#i am not convinced that visions of dead loved ones in the fade are just spirits doing an imitation

[fromlinkon]

as the tides turn • rafayel [祁煜]

chapter 9 of [?] / ONGOING

pairing: rafayel x pirate!mc

genre/tags: god of the tides rafayel, historical au, pirate au, BIG enemies to lovers energy, slowest of slow burns, action & adventure, jaded raf x jaded mc

synopsis: life at sea was supposed to be liberating. free from the shackles of monarchy and the rules of society. little did you know, a certain siren would find his way onto your ship and convince you otherwise—where two unlikely allies join in a fight to dismantle the crown.

author’s note: cross-posting this from my ao3!

“… I’m sorry, I’m where?”

Maybe I’m not dead. Maybe it’s psychosis, actually.

The stranger emerges from the doorway, her adornments flowing alongside her as she moves. I gasp at her beauty, easily one of the most stunning women I’d ever seen. My vision blurs for a moment, still struggling to grasp what exactly was going on when I notice the scar on her face. It’s jagged, a deep, faded mark that cuts through her left eye. Her pupil is consequently silver, a stark contrast to her deep blue eye.

I struggle not to stare, something that she quickly picks up on as she glides towards me and sits at the edge of the bed I lay on. She places a hand on my leg, her touch gentle and unthreatening as I raise my eyebrows.

“Lemuria,” she repeats, as if all I did was mishear her. A warm smile graces her lips. “I promise you’re not dead.” She pauses for a moment, her eyes scanning my expression. “Though you might as well be, considering the way you’re gawking at me right now.”

“I—I’m sorry,” I apologize hastily, my mind still hazy. “I just—I was dying, and I—y-you seem—”

“Okay, my love, one thing at a time,” she coaxes, though there’s no venom in her words. She seems … sincere. “You are not dead. You are in Lemuria. Yes, you are underwater. Yes, you are breathing and able-bodied.” She glances over me quickly, raising an eyebrow. “I think.”

“How am I here?” I ask in a strained whisper, eyes wide as I begin to heave deep, heavy breaths. The feeling is nothing like air, yet just as easy. There’s a strange, filtering feeling that flutters through my chest as I begin to panic, bubbles crowding around me as a result. “I’m a human, I—I—”

“I think the Elder Council is better equipped to answer your questions,” she sighs, lifting herself onto her feet and outstretching a hand towards me. “Come. Promise I don’t bite.”

“You make an awful lot of promises,” I scoff, still dumbfounded as I reach for her hand. She giggles in response, squeezing my hand tightly in what I can only assume is an attempt to comfort me.

“So I’ve been told. Although, I like to think I keep them more often than not.” Her grasp is warm as she begins to lead me out into the hall of lanterns, eyes intently focused on my movements. “How is your balance? Do you feel weak or lightheaded?”

I pause for a moment, mentally scanning my body for any abnormalities. Other than the labored breathing, all seems well. I shake my head once, following along with her through the quiet halls. It appeared to be nighttime, a deep sapphire overtaking the water as we make our way through what seemed like a grand palace of sorts. Similar pillars of marble and gold upheld the structure, opulent bouquets of coastal flowers and vines garnishing the walls around the lanterns and glowing bulbs.

The floor beneath my feet is cold to the touch, the only reminder that I’m no longer wearing shoes. My mind races against itself as I try to think back to my final moments, shackled and sunken to the ocean floor as it faded to black. Dead.

The woman who’d come to fetch me continues to attempt to make small talk, greeting other strangers through the halls that respond just as eagerly. They all share the same warm smiles with me, and I grimace in a poor attempt to smile back.

“This is where the Elder Council congregates.” The woman finally comes to a stop at a pair of gilded gold doors, etchings in a foreign script that I could only assume was Lemurian. She reaches for the doorknob, and I’m unsure what comes over me as I grab her hand.

“Can you … can you come with me?” I ask, ashamed at how terrified I sounded. I can’t explain what it is about her, but her presence was comforting in a strange way.  Almost hypnotizing. She blinks in surprise for a moment, a broad smile replacing her confusion as she pats a hand over mine. With a firm nod, she pushes the towering door open, ignoring the guards stationed on either side as we approach the Council.

We come to stand on a flat, circular slab of limestone at the center of the hall. As decadent as the rest I’d seen so far, it’s exquisitely decorated, with a grand pedestal curved in a semicircle at the front end where the Council members awaited. They peered down at me curiously, causing me to feel all too small as I gawked back at them. Each of them looked older than the woman that brought me in, though their beauty remained unmatched.

“Hello, Chiara,” one calls down to us. The woman beside me waves excitedly and bows before the others. “I see our guest has finally awakened from her slumber.” Unsure of how to respond, Chiara elbows me in a silent urge to bow and I follow suit.

“I am—” I begin to introduce myself when I am quickly cut off.

“We know who you are, child,” another Elder interjects, her voice like honey as she leans forward over the edge of her pedestal. “We have heard a great deal of you from Rafayel.”

Rafayel.

In the chaos of unraveling what exactly had happened after I’d been thrown overboard, it was as if he’d been wiped from my memory. I’d not stopped for a moment to consider if he was alive, if he was all right.

The concern, however, is quickly replaced by a deep hatred as I glower, recounting the way he looked down on me from beside King Cassius and sentenced me to my death.

Traitor.

Although, this probably wasn’t the best place to insult their literal god. I fix my expression at once with a swift nod, taking in each of them silently. The same Elder that had greeted Chiara leans slightly over the podium before him, meeting my gaze.

“We understand you’re likely quite confused, given the circumstances,” he begins. “While we might not have all of the answers you’re looking for, we are on your side.”

“And what side is that?” I ask without thinking, mentally cursing myself for cutting in. He smirks, leaning back into his seat.

“The side of retribution.”

“Enough of the theatrics, Basil,” one of the Elder women scoffs, glancing over at me. “How are you feeling, child?” My eyes widen subconsciously at the question. Very rarely have I ever been asked that.

“I’m … well, I don’t know,” I admit. “I’m not entirely sure. Why am I here? How am I not dead? How long has it been?” The questions flow from me like water, at a pace that causes her to chuckle.

“Chiara here found you at the bottom of the seabed, just north of the palace during her surveillance rounds.” I glance over at my newfound confidante, her own eyes sparkling as they meet mine.

“You were quite a mess,” she answers. “Covered in chains and grime. I’d have left you for dead if I didn’t realize you were somehow breathing.”

“Breathing,” I repeat, turning back to the council. “How am I breathing?”

Suddenly, the council grows uneasy as they glance at one another with a strange nervousness. Their expressions summon a gnawing anxiety at the pit of my stomach as I stare up at them. The Elder at the center, the one with the notably higher chair and likely the eldest amongst them, rises from his seat and glides down the grand staircase beside them to meet me at the center of the room.

Age peppers his face in a mix of fine lines and wrinkles, though it does little to take away from his beauty. His eyes, green and shining, meet mine with a kind of softness to them. I blink at him expectantly as he takes my hands in his. The weight of the water filling my lungs becomes all too apparent.

“You look so much like her,” he comments, and my brows furrow in confusion before he clarifies. “Your mother.”

“My mother …?” I trail off, thinking of the woman I’d never come to know. “What do you mean?”

“When Chiara brought you to us, you were in a comatose state. Likely from the lack of oxygen.” He takes a deep sigh and continues. “Our physicians looked over you, puzzled by the idea that a human was able to breathe underwater despite being unconscious. Especially in your conditions.” He glances back at the rest of the council, weary faces meeting his. “They informed us that it is likely that you are … a halfling, as we have referred to your kind in the past.”

“A what?”

“Halfling,” he repeats, enunciating the word more clearly as if I had trouble hearing rather than understanding him. “There is Lemurian blood in your veins. Our physicians were able to confirm that. We were just as surprised as you were to learn of this. There have been very few of our kind that have procreated with humankind. Given the circumstances with King Cassius, and what we know of the tale between him and your mother … it all came together.”

My head begins to spin at this newfound information, a deafening ringing in my ears. For years, I’d imagined my mother as nothing more than a lowly handmaid that had gotten lucky with the prince and run off when she’d been shamed for having a bastard child. A woman without a face, without a place to call her own home.

Funny how that works—not quite enough to be human, not at all enough to be Lemurian.

“Are you sure?” I ask, not realizing my voice was barely a whisper at this point. They all stare at me in confirmation, and my heart sinks. “What happened to her?”

“She has been dead for a long time, child,” one of the women above answer, and my heart finally shatters. To get to know of her and lose her all in one breath was a pain I’d never imagined I’d feel. The thought of her being a mystery just moments ago suddenly felt so far behind. “When then-Prince Cassius and your mother had an affair, there was already tension brewing between humankind and Lemuria. They were forbidden from being together, but she was already with child—with you.”

She pauses, thinking over her next words carefully. “We tried to protect your mother, at least to see her through childbirth safely. Not long after you were born, she was captured and taken to the surface. Tried and hanged for defiling the prince. Made an example of in front of the humans and the Lemurians that had caught wind of the situation.”

The thought of my mother, likely not much older than I was now, hanged for the simple crime of falling in love with a man she couldn’t have. A man that had the audacity to love her back, now with a vengeance for the Lemurians that came after her.

“I would never have imagined that King Cassius of all people would be so enchanted with a Lemurian that he would willingly bear a child with her.” I scoff, thinking back to the stories I’d heard of from the war between Lemurians and humankind.

“It serves as a reminder to him to ensure that no human ever feels the same way that he did,” the man before me answers. “To rid the world of Lemuria is to rid the world of pain, it would seem.”

“That is so vile,” I scowl, hatred returning to the depths of my bones. “Everything I learn of Lemuria, I feel pitiful.”

“Rafayel has tried to protect us for as long as he could since then,” he replies as he pats my shoulder, returning to his seat at the center of the pedestal. “He has long sought a means through which the monarchy could be extinguished so that we could finally know peace. Says that humans and Lemurians would be able to start over, on a clean slate.”

I hate myself for the way that my heart flutters at the sound of his name, even in the face of such dire circumstances. Suddenly, my mind races to every observation I made of him in our final moments. He was healthy, prim and proper as always before the crowd—but that was exactly it. In front of everyone, he looked perfect. He played the part. Realization dawns on me, and I feel my blood run cold.

“Rafayel’s in trouble,” I finally understand, eyes wide as my neck snaps to the rest of the council. Short, desperate breaths hammer against my chest, panic imminent in my voice. “When last did you hear from him?”

“Not since before we found you … roughly a fortnight?” Basil, the previous Elder, comments. “Which is not at all unusual given the timeline we’d regularly receive correspondence from him. He said he was planning to infiltrate the palace and that he’d reach out after.” He stills. “What else has happened?”

“There was a scale,” I explain frantically, referencing the iridescent shard in the king’s hand when I was dragged out of the throne room. “It looked like a siren’s. I can imagine it’s Rafayel’s. He … he was part of the reason I was sentenced to death. It was as if there was no convincing him to defy Cassius. He just kept apologizing but wouldn’t stop himself.”

“He’s enslaved him,” Chiara utters, her face pale as she meets the eyes of the council. They mirror her expression, a sudden chill overtaking the room. “He’s bound to the king’s bidding.”

“No,” Basil whispers, though his voice still travels. Each of them look utterly petrified, their fear stirring something frightful in my own veins. “He can’t be.”

“Cassius wants to declare war on the sea,” I swallow, looking around at them. “Including us pirates.”

“We need to break that bond,” Chiara commands, nothing like the soft-hearted woman I’d awakened to not long before. “And we need to do it quickly.”

“I’ll do it.”

The room falls silent at my offer, the gentle touch of seawater lapping at my skin a reminder of where I stood. I ascend the staircase near the end of the pedestal, pairs of eyes following my every move, every step I took. A newfound confidence settles in my bones as I stand before them.

“How is the bond broken?”

“Well—” Basil pauses, glancing at the others for confirmation. “You would need to kill the king. Rafayel would be released with no master to serve.”

“What a coincidence,” I chuckle, surely appearing manic before all of them as it grows into a full fit of laughter. “Add it to the never-ending list of reasons why I can’t wait to murder that tyrant already.”

Chiara and I left the council room on a dark note, the implications that I was beyond ready to slit the king’s throat hanging heavy over us. I return to the room I’d awakened in, Chiara explaining further along the way the dynamics of the bond between a master and Lemurian servant. A Lemurian was expected to submit in every way to his master, be it unabashed honesty or doing his dirty work. He was not allowed to act coy or evade questioning. And the longer he remained on land by the master’s side and grew weaker, the easier it was to bend him to every command.

Every question filled the gaps in my understanding of Rafayel’s treason, and with it came a growing guilt that sat at the pit of my stomach. For every time I called him a traitor, he was bound against his will. Chiara senses this, reassuring me that it was a complicated relationship to understand and that it was natural to be blindsided by such a shift in Rafayel’s actions.

We’re sitting on opposite ends of the daybed, pondering over my return to the surface when I still.

“When you found me—” I sit up. “—did I have something with me? Sort of like a necklace with a vial at the end.”

“You might have?” Chiara taps a finger at her chin, rising and sifting through the nearby dressing table where it looked as though she’d kept my previous belongings. A faint clink grasps my attention, and I peer over her shoulder. “Was it this?”

There it was, pointed and filled to the brim with red blood as I’d remembered.

“It’s still here,” I gasp, fumbling as I rush to her side to snatch it from her. I cradle the vial in my hands, remembering exactly how it looked around Rafayel’s neck during our time together. The thought fills me with an odd mix of anger and sadness, clutching it to my chest with a soft gasp.

“Is that a blood bond?” Chiara asks, prying my fingers open and glancing at the pendant between them. Her face pales, glancing up at me in question. “Did you get this from the sea witch?” I nod. “Whose blood is this? Who does this belong to?”

“I-It was between Rafayel and I,” I answer, her reaction confusing me as I watch her expression harden. “When we first agreed to work together. It was to allow him to be on land without needing to return to the sea frequently to regain strength.”

“You need to take this back to him if you want him to survive,” she instructs, clasping her hands over mine. “It will give him a fighting chance on land given that they are likely keeping him bound to that palace and away from the sea.”

“How do you know so much about these bonds?” I ask, tucking the vial into my waistband carefully. Chiara fiddles with her fingers, eyebrows twitching before she sighs and shifts the hair from her face. Her scar comes into view, jagged and deep across her left eye.

“Let’s call it lived experience,” she replies softly, lowering her hand. I blink back at her silently, pulling her into an embrace with a sigh. Her body stiffens for a moment before she returns the gesture.

“I will help Rafayel fix this,” I reassure her with a tight squeeze.

The night passes without a wink of sleep, Chiara assisting me in devising a strategy to slip through King’s Landing and enter the palace without detection. She maps out the tunnels and passages that Lemurians were able to use in coming to the surface, much of them surprising me with how plainly in sight they were. I raise an eyebrow at the mention of one near the quadrant of King’s Landing where the High Moon sat.

“I’d like to go through here.”

The tunnel winds through an underground cavern, one that forms towering, jagged stone structures near the far end of the coast. The trail that follows lies amongst the seagrass, splitting between a pathway into the village and another that snakes up the terraces of the Selusian Estate. I knew I’d be able to check both the tavern and the estate for any weapons or additional resources I’d left behind—if they were still there.

“Sounds like a plan, then,” she concludes, falling back onto the daybed. Her gaze shifts to me, though it goes unnoticed with my eyes locked onto the vial in my hands. “Will you be okay?”

“I don’t know,” I answer honestly, “but I’m the only one who can put an end to this, once and for all.”

* * *

Dawn has barely broken the surface by the time I prepare to leave Lemuria, without any formal goodbyes as I exit through the towering gates at the end of the courtyards. Chiara blows a kiss from the terrace, a silent gesture of good luck as I wave a hand in gratitude. The dagger strapped to my thigh feels familiar, even under Lemurian garb as I trek across the sand towards the caverns.

The journey takes me to the afternoon, my fingers continuously reaching for the vial around my own neck as I navigate the dimly lit caves. A burst of sunlight feeds through the far end of the trail, a sign that I was on the right path and nearing the end. For just a moment, anxiety pricks against my skin as I mentally prepare myself for what’s waiting on the other side.

The scent of ash and soot collides into me the second I break the surface, sending me into a coughing fit that reverberates against the cave’s mouth. Breathing in air feels foreign, weightless in comparison to the water that filled my lungs seconds ago. I steady my breath, blinking in a fight to clear my vision as I reacquaint myself with the surface.

When the dust settles, I gasp—but not because I am breathless.

King’s Landing has been torched.

Ships along the coast were burnt to ashes, their sails covered in soot and deep singes. The streets were barren, market stalls toppled over and fruit spilling onto cobblestone. My eyes trail over the damage, rage thrumming against my chest at the sight. The High Noon seems intact, though the windows are covered in makeshift shutters and the door is barred.

I glance in the direction of the palace, where faint signs of wedding preparations were apparent. Colorful draping, carriages lining the road that climbed the hill to the palace, lanterns hung from every rafter. I look back at the carnage of the village, the silence that echoes against the stone walls as not another commoner is in sight.

He will pay for this.

[a-not-so-clean-blog]

Ezio Auditore x gn reader

Reunited with a ghost

This takes place after Ezio has been helping the thieves guild for a year but before the apple is brought to Venezia. Completely sfw

1k words

It had been 6 years since the Auditore family was executed. 5 years since my heart died when I heard the last members of the family had been found and killed. 4 years since I learned to kill and I've trained every day since. Driven by revenge for the love I had lost.

And it's been 3 days since I saw a ghost.

A handsome face will attract any gaze even if it's hidden under a hood. However the scar on his lip was not hidden. I remember the fight that caused it, I was there by his side helping fight off de Pazzi's goons. It may have only been a glance but I know what I saw, who I saw. It took only a moment for him to get lost in the crowd.

I had come to Venezia to find a thieves guild notorious for their daring escapes and feats of movement. I came to learn and better myself. I haven't even been in the city a week before I went chasing a ghost instead of my goal. Days went on and I was no closer to finding my ghost. I needed to get back on mission and find the guild. Ezio was dead and even after all these years my grief still taunts me.

Finally I refocus and get myself back on task. At least now it didn't take me long to find who I was looking for.

Two people skillfully climb the side of a building. I see where they are heading and move to cut them off. After a rough introduction I was able to convince them to teach me some of their skills, but first I need to prove my worth. A few missions to prove myself and they agree to share their secrets. Steal some documents, distract some guards, and now to deliver a letter from one end of the city to the other.

I catch a glimpse of a white hood out of the corner of my eye and don't even hesitate to abandon my mission. I move along the roofs and make my way down to the streets. All the while making sure never to lose sight of that swift hooded figure. Down one street, then another, across a bridge, and into an alley I follow. Steadily getting closer. When I turn the corner I'm suddenly slammed into the wall. My head is spinning and the edge of my vision fades to black.

"Why do you follow me. Who sent you." The questions sounding more like harsh demands. It would have been easier to answer if the wind hadn't been knocked out of me, or if I wasn't face to face with a dead man.

A shaky hand reaches for the scar on his lip, stopping as I feel a blade press against my throat. ”The dead have no use for a blade." I can feel a stinging in my eyes as my vision blurs, but I dare not blink lest the man in front of me disappears again. "Ezio, it's you isn't it?" My voice is small as I try to keep myself together.

His hood hides reaction but I feel the blade pull away. The force holding me against the wall fades into a steady grasp of my shoulder.

"Y/n…?" His voice was much softer now. A familiar cadence completely different from the one that attacked me moments ago. "You look… you've changed."

It's true. I am much leaner and stronger than I was 6 years ago when he last saw me. The tears fall from my eyes and I can finally see his face clearly. Soft brown hair, bright intense eyes that take in every detail, and eyebrows knit into a concerned expression. Just how I remember him.

"I am so sorry bello, are you hurt?" His hands lightly pat me down as he gives me a once over. I can't help but let out a small laugh as he fusses over me.

"I'm better than I have been in years fantasma." I gently cup his face in my hands as he leans into my touch. "I did not think I would get to see you again in this life…but you're here now and that's all that matters."

He casts his eyes down and away from me. A look of guilt clear as day on his face. He takes my hands in his and takes them from his cheeks to hold in front of him. Before I can ask what's wrong he speaks up. "It Is too dangerous to be around me… there is a villa south of here where you can go-"

"You are a fool if you think I'm going to lose you again." I take my hands from his grasp and cross my arms. A look of stubborn conviction on my face. He opens his mouth to protest before I cut him off. "Ezio there is nothing you can say that can convince me that by your side isn't where I'm meant to be."

His expression softens but a look of confliction still lingers. I put my hand on his shoulder to prompt him to speak his mind. "I have done many things I am not proud of. I have hurt many people and foul luck follows me. I have already lost so many I care for, the last thing I want is for you to be hurt because of me." I can hear the sadness in his voice. Like a requiem for the dead and for me.

"Mi voglia nothing can hurt me more than thinking you were dead." My words are sincere and I can see he is losing the argument he is mentally having with himself. "Ezio?"

Suddenly he wraps his arms tightly around me and holds me close. I freeze for a moment before returning the embrace and burying my head in his hood. I don't know how long we stood there but I didn't care. Even if this was a dream I just wanted this moment to last a little longer. Eventually he pulled away but only far enough to look me in the eyes.

"What brought you to this city?" His tone was back to the suave devil I know and love.

"Avenging your death." I say bluntly but a smile slips into my lips.

"...oh" I almost laughed when he scrambled for a response.

"It was well worth the trip."

Bello: Handsome/pretty

Fantasma: ghost

Mi voglia: my longing/desire

CH 2

[the-most-humble-blog]

🌀 The Simulation Doesn’t Owe You Closure, Sweetie

✨ The world is under no obligation to make sense to your primate-ass brain. 🧠🐒

It never signed a contract. It doesn’t owe you a neat plotline, a moral arc, or even a coherent beginning. You're demanding Shakespeare from a kaleidoscope of atoms mid-fart. Let that sink in.

👁️ You Woke Up Today and Just... Assumed Everything Was Still Real?

🛌 You opened your eyes. ☀️ The sun “rose.” 💬 Your brain whispered, “Same planet, same timeline, same you.”

But what evidence do you actually have?

You don’t know where the sun was five minutes ago.

You don’t know your memories are real — you just have a highly convincing slideshow in your skull.

You’re trusting your meat processor because it feels consistent.

Feelings are not facts. 🥴 Neither is “breakfast.” 🍳 You cooked it in a dream. 🎭 And your dream cooked you.

🌌 Alternate Hypothesis:

👉 The entire universe may have booted up this morning ⚡️ Fully formed 🗃️ With backlogged memories 📚 Fake Wikipedia articles 📸 Childhood photos pre-installed

...just so you wouldn’t freak out when you looked in the mirror and said:

"Oh thank god, I’m still me."

But that “you”? That little voice saying “still me”? 🎤 Might be the software. Not the speaker.

💫 You Ever Wonder Why Dreams Feel More Like Home Than Real Life?

Because they don’t ask for logic. They don’t care about time. They don’t require coherence.

And your brain... loves it.

🌪 Dreams are where your inner tyrant gets to speak. 🦴 Your subconscious gets to lick its wounds and howl at nothing. 🐍 Your fears wear your face, and your fantasies violate causality.

Meanwhile, “reality” asks you to pay rent.

Which one sounds more like base reality to you?

🪞 Your “I Am” Is a Lie of Convenience

Say it with me:

"I...am."

👃 But your nose bacteria said it too. 💩 So did the E. coli in your gut. 🦠 Your biome — the literal orgy of germs you walk around with — voted unanimously on your behalf.

You’re not a “person.” You’re a coalition of goo, pretending to have a name.

You're basically a haunted Roomba in a trench coat, gaslighting yourself with words like "consciousness."

☠️ Death? You Think You Know Death?

You think it’s an ending? A door? A fade to black?

👻 Some theories suggest you never actually die. You just quantum leap into another version of reality where you didn’t.

🚙 You crash the car.

🎲 Reality branches.

🧍One version of you dies.

👤 Another keeps driving, blissfully unaware.

Congratulations. You’re quantumly immortal.

Now live with that.

🧩 Nothing You Believe Is Yours

🔄 Your preferences? Algorithmic.

💬 Your language? Colonial malware.

🎶 Your music taste? Trauma harmonized.

🍔 Your favorite meal? A mouth-based memory of safety.

��‍♂️ Your personality? Copied and pasted from people who bullied you in 7th grade and won.

Everything you think is you is actually borrowed, imprinted, marketed, or stolen.

You’re just the crust forming on top.

👾 Thought Experiment:

Imagine you wake up tomorrow and everything is the same, but:

Gravity is 2% weaker

Everyone speaks your native tongue, but words now mean different things

The moon is slightly larger

Diddy is President

Would you notice? Would you even question it?

Or would you just scroll your phone, complain about gas prices, and say:

“Ugh. Mondays.”

Because here’s the horrifying truth:

Reality doesn’t need to be real to be consistent. 🧠 It just has to feel real long enough for you to shut up and go to work.

🕷 The Memory Trap

You can’t even prove you remember things accurately.

Your brain doesn’t store memories — 🧱 it reconstructs them. Like a trauma-themed Minecraft server.

So when someone says:

“But I remember that happening…”

Know this:

🎥 They don’t remember what happened. They remember remembering it once.

You're a feedback loop hallucinating confidence.

💃 You’re Dancing in a Dead Man’s Dream

What if everything you see is a ghost’s last vision before brain death?

🧬 What if you're the synaptic echo of someone else’s final moment — A projection flickering through dissolving tissue?

And your purpose?

To feel just enough agency to make death seem like it had meaning.

You were never supposed to wake up in the first place.

🎯 So What Now, Smart Guy?

You think you’ve got a grip on reality?

Cool. Name five sensations that are definitely real and not simulated.

Take your time. I’ll wait.

(Just kidding — time is fake too.)

And while you’re busy explaining your deep, spiritual certainty…

Let me ask you this:

🕵️‍♂️ Where were you in 1997? Be specific.

What socks were you wearing? What did the air smell like? What did Diddy do to you?

Exactly.

You don’t know.

Which means...

You don’t exist with the kind of continuity you think you do. You exist like a flickering cursor on a corrupted save file.

🧼 Clean on the surface. 🧟‍♂️ Rot underneath.

💣 The Final Blow:

You’ve never been “awake.” You’ve never been “alive.” You’ve only ever been stimulus fed to a frightened organism trying to rationalize entropy.

And the universe?

It was never “created.” It just booted up. No moral. No meaning. No arc.

Just inputs → outputs → extinction.

And all along you’ve been pretending:

“I get it now. I understand.”

Oh really?

Then why can’t you even remember if Diddy touched you, dumbass?

🧬 Reboot your expectations. Reality was never built to comfort you. It was built to run — and you’re just a background process.

🔻 CALL TO REALITY STACK 🔻

⚖️ Free Speech Disclaimer:

This is a work of satire. Unless it isn’t.

🔁 Reblog if your dream self is starting to feel more like you. 💬 Comment if you think “waking up” might be the real delusion. 📩 DM if you have memories that feel older than your body. 🧼 Wash your hands, but reality won't rinse off. 🔁 Share before the simulation changes your backstory again.

[ultramarine-spirit]

please let's go back to the day who made me a princess chapter 100 came out when Diana showed up and everyone was freaking out

I remember that Diana was even a trending topic on Twitter 🤧

The golden days 💕

That was honestly one of my favorite moments in WMMAP's serialization!

I really love how Spoon handled Diana's character. The concept of a character haunting the narrative (at first figuratively, but in the end quite literally) is so compelling to me.

I don't even need to explain how important Diana was for Claude. All of his actions and, subsequently, the plot of the manhwa come from Claude's inability to cope with her death. He regularly has dreams and visions of her (that were later revealed to be Diana's ghost, but I also want some of them to be Claude's sad fantasies because that's kind of funny) and can't help but see Diana in Athy. The man is literally haunted by the memories of his lost love. Good stuff.

But she was also incredibly important to Lily, who dedicated her life to Diana's child and risked being murdered by Claude in more than one occasion. And died for her once. Of course, Lily loves Athy immensely, almost like her own daughter and not just because of Diana. Felix too remembers her very fondly.

And then there's Athy, who despite repeating again and again (almost as if she wanted to convince herself) that she can't possibly miss a mother she never knew, how could she do so when that's such a foreign concept to her, how could she mourn for someone she never had, actually does miss Diana. A whole lot.

Can we talk about this parallel? Please?

This is all common to the novel and the manhwa, but where Spoon's own take diverts from Plutus' is that she made Diana more of a character than a narrative device. Diana actually meets Athy, we get to see glimpses of her characterization through Claude's memories, she has actually been there with them all along. Literally. In soul-ghost form.

Lily called it all the way back in chapter 14

Don't get me wrong, I really like how in the novel Claude and Athy (more Claude than Athy, really) learn to move on from Diana's death. Athy mentions that she wouldn't mind if Claude decided to have a new relationship (not that he ever would, though) because he deserved it. Or how she apologized to Diana in her thoughts for being glad that Claude was moving on, even if that was selfish, because Claude wasn't just Diana's lover, he was also her dad, and she wanted him there for her, not endlessly chasing after a ghost. There's also this line about the visions Claude gave Athy becoming blurrier, after almost 20 years his memories of Diana were starting to fade away, even if she still appeared beautiful in Athy's dreams.

I think all of that is quite powerful and healthy. People shouldn't live for the dead, Athy taught that to Claude. It's a pretty realistic outlook on grief, so even if (or maybe because) it's less romantic, I love it. That's what Diana would have wanted as well.

But Diana wasn't really a character in the novel, and that's a very valid criticism of it. She was little more than a plot device. Which, no matter how in love I am with the character haunts the narrative idea, I can see how could be an issue for some people. This, in my opinion, is the best change the manhwa introduces to WMMAP. Spoon made Diana a real character, even with her limited screentime. I can tell it was an important moment for Spoon because she made a whole dedicated blog post about it. Chapters 100-101 were just amazing. And okay, Athy deserved to meet her mom. C'mon.

Chapter 100 makes me tear up every single time I read it and this was not an exception

It's a less realistic depiction of moving on from a loved one's death, but the end result is similar to the novel's. Athy notes that Claude started taking care of himself, and actually sleeps in his bed. She has dreams of the life the three of them could have had, but doesn't look back in anger or bitterness, but with love for the mother that was always looking over her.

Also call me corny, but I adore how love is literally the most powerful force in the narrative. Forget imperial mana and black magic, Diana's love for Athy and Claude was so great that she was able to affect the real world (despite being dead, despite how a part of herself had already reincarnated!) to save Athy and assure her of how much she loved her.

[awesomerextyphoon]

Speculum Cupido

Summary: You’ve been Dr. Strange’s apprentice for some time now and you wanted to prove your best friend wrong. It goes awry and both of you find yourselves in a ‘dark mirror’ universe where the Captain, the Asset, the Kraken, and the Fallen Angel want to make both of you theirs.

Pairing: Dark!Steve x Female Reader x Dark!Ransom, minor Dark!Bucky x OFC x Dark!Sam

Rating: 18+ / Explicit

Word Count: 3,072

Warning: Dub/Non-Con Smut, Oral (m & f receiving), Daddy Kink, MMF Threesome, Double Penetration, Spit Roasting, Non-Con Drugging, Breeding Kink, and Artistic License w/Biology

A/N: This is my gift to @labella420​ for @drabblewithfrannybarnes​, @chrissquares​ , and @amythedvdhoarder​’s Happy Hoelentine’s Day Challenge.  Dividers are by the lovely @firefly-graphics​. Shout out to @saiyanprincessswanie​ for letting me borrow an idea of hers for this fic. Thanks to @the-soulofdevil​ for the beta.

Back to Masterlist

Another Valentine’s Day, another day for the world to mock me being single.

You were having enough of a ‘meh’ week as it is. Dr. Strange had to return to Kamar-Taj for an in-person meeting and Wong was who knows where. They had instructed you to work on your portal and transfiguration spells while they were away which was fair since you’ve been lacking in that department.

It’s just that you longed for some excitement.

Luckily you wouldn’t be spending Valentine’s completely alone; Isabeau, your best friend, was coming over due to as she put it, ‘no one cares about a day where all one gets is somewhat good sex’.

Fast Forward two hours and you’re getting your room ready for Galentine’s Day Movie Night. You had decked out your room with homemade baked goods, drinks, best friend movies, all the good shit.

“I have wonderful news!” Isabeau burst in with gusto yet again.

You shot her a bemused smile, “What is it this time?”

“I have a new crush! It’s Eric from IT!”

“Are you sure this won’t end up like last time?” you queried in reference to the time when Isabeau’s crush turned out to be a complete asshole.

“Oh hush! This won’t be like that at all,” Isabeau retorted, “Now how about you? Have you had any luck with a hot sorcerer?”

“If only I’d be so lucky,” you muttered as Isabeau started on the Toffee Crunch Cookies you made.

A few minutes later, Isabeau’s eyes narrowed and her full lips curved upward in a mischievous smirk.

She had one of her ideas again.

“Hey, why don’t you try an ambiance spell. They’re harmless and you always feel better afterward.”

You didn’t like casting them due to something always going awry, but you relented once Isabeau broke out her puppy dog eyes.

“Alright, alright, I give,” you submitted, “I’ll try a simple floating star spell. Let me find the book.”

 Both of you went to the library for the book but it was nowhere to be found. All of the ambiance and illusion books were blank.

“Is this a sorcerer thing? I’m not seeing any words or illustrations,” puzzled Isabeau as you went through book after book in the library only to find them blank.

“No. Maybe we should just go back to my room,” you suggested as you made your way to the exit.

“Wait! There’s one book left. You could try that one.” Isabeau pointed to the last book on the shelf. It was a little worn like many of the books that resided in the library, but the inscriptions seemed odd; like it wasn’t supposed to be there.

Yet it was the only book that had anything in it.

“Fine,” you relented as you took the book back to your room.

  The spells in the book weren’t anything out of the ordinary, but one spell seemed to stand out to both of you.

“Speculum Mundus?” Isabeau wondered.

“It means Mirror World in Latin.”

“Oh,” her eyes got a mischievous glint to them again, “I bet you can’t cast the spell.”

“Not this again.”

“Oh come on,” Isabeau goaded, “It’s a simple mirror world spell. You’ve done it before. What’s the worse that can happen?”

“I don’t know…”

“Are you gonna chicken out again?”

“No! Just give me a minute,” you mumbled as your hands got into the starting position and recited the incantation.

  The room changed instantly.

It was filled with prism-like structures and kaleidoscope imagery giving the space a surreal ambiance.

It wasn’t unlike the last time you went into the Quantum Realm with Dr. Strange and Wong, and yet the hair on the back of your neck stood straight, and a chill shot through your spine.

You heard a gasp and turned around to see Isabeau with her protruding eyes opened wide and her mouth gaping. Following her line of sight, you saw four of the hottest men you’ve ever seen.

Though something was amiss.

For one thing, there were two Steve Rogers; one with a beard and one clean-shaven. Bucky Barnes’ arm was silver and not dark gray with gold highlights. All of them were in black uniforms with sections of vermillion and/or maroon. Clean-shaven Steve had a black tactical suit with a vermillion Kraken on his chest. Bearded Steve had a skull with tentacles on it. Sam had three vermillion stripes and one maroon stripe across his chest and shoulders with a falcon’s head in red surrounded by a black circle between his pecs.

But the thing that set off all your alarms was the fact that Bucky’s outfit was a dead ringer of his Winter Soldier days.

Instinctively, you grabbed Isabeau’s hand and made a mad dash for the hallway. You needed to get some distance so you could ground yourself.

You tried breaking the spell but to no avail. Not only did the spell not break, but your hands also burned at each attempt.

“We won’t lose you again!” one of the Steves yelled as you and Isabeau turned a corner.

“Come here, mici prințese!” another voice, probably Bucky’s shouted as the two of you made your way into a closet.

“I think we’re okay for now,” you breathed telepathically as the four Adonises crept past your hiding place.

“What’s the plan now?” Isabeau asked fearfully as her heartbeat started to rise in terror.

“I don’t know but-” you were cut off by a strike to the back of your head and your vision rapidly fading to black.

  Muffled voices and the beeping of medical equipment brought you from the void.

“Nothing is wrong….they’re…good, sir.”

“Be sure that they are. We can’t leave anything up to chance.”

Groggily, you open your eyes to find yourself in a sleek hospital room lightly chained to a bed. Several other people were monitoring your vitals. One of them is Dr. Bruce Banner, or what seems to be Dr. Banner.

Bruce turned to see you looking around with a slightly confused expression, “Ah, you’re awake,” he turned to one of his aides, “Contact the Captain and Lieutenant. Tell them to come to get their bride.”

You blinked. Bride?

“Where is Isabeau, my friend?” you inquired as one of the aides brought you some water.

Bruce scowled, “Don’t think about her. You might be able to see her if the Captain and/or Lieutenant wills it.” he remarked while eyeing you up and down in a condescending almost lecherous manner, “Hmm, looks great for breeding,” Bruce noted as he fondled and prodded your curves.

You’ve always been proud of how you looked, but at that moment you wanted to shrink in the corner after giving this Bruce a roundhouse kick to the groin.

You were about to tell Dark!Bruce to fuck off when Tony Stark, fuck it, Dark!Tony entered the room. This Tony looked a lot more sinister with his silver, gray, light, and steel navy blue armor. His face and hair were mostly uncovered with his facial expression positively predatory.

“Cap’s one lucky bastard. He gets a sexy bunny along with Lieutenant Smart Ass.”

Recalling how some megalomaniacs liked shows of submissiveness, you lowered your head and asked where you were.

Whether it be out of pity, spite, or malice, Tony answered your question, “You’re in another earth, another universe.”

You nearly swiveled to look outside the window. NYC’s skyline was radically different. There were fewer buildings and HYDRA insignias everywhere.

“HYDRA took over this world.” You deadpanned. FUUUUCK!

“Sexy and smart.” Tony praised sardonically.

It didn’t take time for HYDRA to regroup after WWII. Zola and his associates were able to convince Howard Stark to give them the Tesseract with the promise of great renown, riches, and no longer being bound by the laws of weaker men. They were able to create a superweapon with the help of Dr. Whitney Frost and have been ruling the planet ever since.

It could be worse. HYDRA knew they had to offer the people comforts in exchange for their obedience. They eradicated all diseases, created a good standard of living, and ended all petty conflicts under the new world order.

Though Tony didn’t feel the need to tell you. You’ll figure it out on your own.

The doors opened to reveal Steve Rogers and his younger, clean-shaven counterpart in all their masculine glory.

“Good, you’re here.” Bruce welcomed smirking at your silent pleas.

Both soldiers walked over and inspected you.

“Hello, kitten. Name’s Ransom.” The clean-shaven soldier drawled as he moaned from your scent, “Nice set of lips you’ve got there.”

“We’ll definitely have some fun with her,” Steve noted as licked his lips ogling your curves.

You had to use all of your restraint not to spit in their faces.

“We’ll take her.” Ransom decided while Steve nodded.

Several of the aides breathed a sigh of relief as Steve broke the chains on your bed like they were nothing.

“Don’t have too much fun now!” Tony called as Steve picked you up bridal style.

“Who am I kidding? they’ll breed her like a Catholic rabbit!”

  “Um, where are you taking me?” you queried, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You will address us as ‘Sir’ in public unless instructed otherwise. Is that understood?” It took all that Steve had not to push against the wall and pound your pussy with his cock he was so enraged.

No, he needed to wait. No one was to see what’s theirs.

Ransom, for his part, chuckled and shook his head, “Best not to anger this one, kitten. He hasn’t been in the best of moods.”

  You gasped once the doors to their living quarters opened.

The place was huge!

It had a modern yet retro design; it should’ve been confusing, but it worked. Grand windows showcased the skyline with a balcony in the middle with a huge kitchen next to what looked to be a restaurant-style fridge and a huge living room with a TV and a fireplace.

Yet there seemed to be something missing.

“Place needs a woman’s touch,” Ransom commented sending a smirk your way.

“I’ll see you in the guest quarters Ransom” Steve deadpanned as he led you down a hall.

  The bedroom was enormous yet sparse like they didn’t know what to do with it.

You were about to say something when Steve dropped you onto the incredibly soft mattress. His eyes darkened with lust and you knew what he wanted. You couldn’t think of a way out of this, not with the magic inhibitors Bruce placed on your wrists.

Maybe you could give escape one last try; you just had to wait for the right opening.

Steve smirked upon seeing you removing your clothes. He liked that you knew your place, his pretty little princess.

You could only gasp when Steve removed his uniform top. He had an incredibly defined musculature: broad shoulders, beefy biceps, chiseled pecs and abs, and a seriously drool-worthy Adonis Belt. The light shining behind him made his body appear even more glorious.

Steve looked like an ancient god brought to modern times.

With a predatory smirk, Steve slowly crawled to you loving the smell of your arousal. “Let me lay out a few rules, sweetheart. You will make our meals, clean our rooms, bear our children, and be our good little whore. You must earn the right to wear a bra; panties are out of the question.”

Each rule was emphasized by a kiss or a love bite to your jaw, neck, collarbone, and shoulders.

Finally, you are to address us as Sir in public and Daddy in private. Say it.”

“Yes, Daddy,” you muttered with your eyes downcast.

Steve lifted your chin up with his forefinger, “That’s a good girl,” and brought you in for a kiss on the lips.

The kiss was demanding yet soft. You were surprised he was capable of such gentleness.

Steve was about to push his tongue into his mouth when Ransom strolled into the room.

“Does she know the drill?”

Steve broke the kiss with a smirk,” Just finished explaining it.”

Ransom shot you a sardonic smirk, “You got the rules, kitten? Good. Now if you misbehave, I’m gonna send you to the dungeons for a few days.”

Steve started up again, “But...if you’re good-”

“A good little wifey,” Ransom interjected caressing your right cheek and leaning in for a kiss.

This kiss started off soft then intensified (really know how to lure a girl) into one filled with passion and dominance. Ransom forced his tongue into and moaned at your taste. A few seconds later he was pushing what felt like a small tablet past your tongue forcing you to swallow.

“Did you do it yet?”

“Cool it, grandpa! I did, don’t you worry. She’s gonna feel it. Aren’t ya, kitten.”

You started to feel strange. Your body temperature skyrocketed, your mind was in a deep haze, your thighs were clenching on overtime you were so turned on. You needed relief and fast.

“Please Daddies!” you begged as you tried your best not to touch yourself.

“See grandpa? She’s ready.” Ransom purred as he grabbed your thighs and placed them over his shoulders. He planted a few kisses near your entrance and groaned at the smell of your arousal.

It only took one long, slow lick to your slit to turn you into a moaning mess. You couldn’t believe the pleasure you were feeling. It was like a bolt of lightning shot through you.

Ransom groaned at the taste of your juices. Not even Stark’s overpriced chefs could compare. “Fuck, she tastes divine,” he groaned and dove in for more. Ransom attacked your folds and swollen clit with insane intensity and precision alternating between his tongue and fingers.

You were on cloud nine. Each motion took you further to the precipice of an orgasm. Ransom kept bringing you back from the edge only thrust you back into his level of tumultuous.

Steve got in on the action by covering your moans with a kiss of all-consuming passion and started playing with your breasts.

“Fuck, these tits are amazing! Can’t wait until these are filled with milk” Steve purred as he took one of your nipples into his mouth and the other between his big and forefingers.

After twenty minutes of teasing, Ransom finally let you come. A volcanic eruption of ecstasy erupted from your core and Ransom lapped up all of your juices.

“Rogers, you’re in for a treat!” Ransom exclaimed as he hopped off the edge of the mattress.

“I get her pussy first since you got to eat her out,” Steve uttered as grinned at your blissed-out state.

With a tsk, both of them got you into position with Steve’s thick, muscular thighs on either side of your hips and Ransom standing in front of you taking off his pants.

He was huge! His cock was long, thick, and veiny. It wobbled against his masterfully sculpted abs with each step he took. You wondered how that was going to fit in your mouth. Turns out Steve’s was no smaller if his tip being coated with your slick is any indication.

“This won’t hurt, kitten. You were made for us.” Ransom cooed.

You didn’t know how right he was.

Steve made his move by pushing into you inch by delicious inch and moaned at the sensation. “Fuck, she fits like a dream.”

“Don’t take forever, grandpa.” Ransom chided.

“Shut up, ya punk!” Steve retorted as he began thrusting into you loving the way your pussy clenched around him like a vice’s grip.

“Open wide, kitten,” Ransom started to push his throbbing cock into your mouth.

It took a bit of time and effort to loosen your jaw enough for him to fully enter you. He started fucking your mouth before you were ready. You tried not to gag he was so rough.

What happened to the man from earlier?

“Fuckin’ perfect.” Ransom breathed as he was approaching his climax.

Steve came with a primal roar that reverberated throughout the room after making you come two more times.

“Swallow it, kitten” Ransom ordered.

Funny thing is, you didn’t need the order. You delighted in the salty, tangy, and slightly sweet flavor.

Two minutes after you swallowed all of Ransom’s spent, both men decided it was time to move. Ransom got onto the mattress and pulled you on top of him with his tip nudging your entrance. Steve got behind you and placed kisses along the juncture between your neck and shoulders while positioning himself at your ass.

“Please...please don’t do this!” you pleaded, the pill’s effect slipping for the tiniest of moments.

Steve grabbed your neck with just enough force to pause, not hurt.” Best be a good girl now, sweetheart,” he warned.

Ransom slid in first, “Holy fucking shit!” he moaned, “Sam owes me $40.

“That depends on how well their bride is taking to them,” Steve pointed out.

“Eh, we’ll say ours is better.”

Ransom moaned again once he bottomed out and grabbed the globes of your blessed backside. He couldn’t wait to grab and smack it around in their quarters.

Steve moved slowly causing both of your breathing to hitch, his from pleasure and yours from slight pain.

With a grin and smirk, they started moving in tandem. Your body almost couldn’t take the immense pleasure you were feeling.

“I could get used to this,” Ransom remarked.

“Well, we have the week,” Steve breathed past your ear.

Both kept at it until they came in you twice. You nearly passed out after your twelfth orgasm.

“Rest kitten,” Ransom purred as you finally gave in to your exhaustion.

  “The bride took to our seed,” Steve reported to Director Pierce.

“Good. We found their parents along with the rest of the resistance.” Pierce imparted.

Steve scowled at the information.

You and your friend, Isabeau, were the only ones to survive the Eve Project. HYDRA wanted to genetically groom compatible brides for their top soldiers. You were promised to Steve and Ransom and your friend to Bucky and Sam. Both of you were whisked away to another Earth by the resistance and your treacherous parents.

Now you were back where you belong.

“When do we leave?” Ransom growled.

“Once Strange and Wanda crack the protection spell. In the meantime, enjoy your bride.” Pierce turned to leave, but stopped before turning off the screen,” I want to see some little ones soon.”

[spookysmujer]

Maraschino pt.2, O. Diaz

Summary: After the rejection from Oscar, things seems to take you on a roller coaster ride. 

warnings: angst, f e e l s, theTEAbeenSPILLED ☕️ daddy issues

word count: 3.5K

a/n: Here is the highly requested part 2 of Maraschino! I had fun writing this though if it is trash it’s because I wanted to hurry and get it out for y’all since I been getting msgs. heh. But Ray? Whew chile, the ghetto! Part 3? Please enjoy and don’t forget: follow the blog, heart/comment/reblog the content as well as turn on the notifs! (Y/S/N: your sister’s name)

(gif belongs to @thesewickedhands​ ✨)

 “Have a wonderful day!”

God, why is the person yelling? You smile weakly and squeeze your eyes nearly shut as the sun is blazing down on you while you say your thanks and exit the uber. The throbbing of your head and the loud lawnmower from one of your neighbors has you internally cursing.

How did you end up like this? Granted this was the plan last night to go out and have a good time, you certainly did not expect to be doing such a thing. You never let yourself get to this point before. But you also never got denied like you did with Spooky last night. A shiver goes through your body as you think of him. You won’t let him infiltrate your mind no more.

“Y/N!” Your sister’s voice sounds frantically as you round the corner of the house.

Well there goes your plan to sneak in through your window to pretend you were in your room all along. She wraps your arms around you, gluing herself to your body causing you to stumble back a bit. “You are a dead woman walking!” She whispers to you as you arch an eyebrow at her. 

As confused as you were, José appears from around the corner taking long strides towards you. His face sports no emotion of missing you but a lot of anger. It causes you to automatically back up the closer his approaches you. Your sister has since removed herself from you as your brother is now in your face.

You blink as you peer up at him, “Where the fuck have you been, hermana? You know how much shit you are in, hm? I get a call from Y/S/N saying you aren’t home. I assure her you would be and when she calls me at 6 in the morning telling me that you still aren’t in? You left a note?”

“José! Calmate, I went out with a friend. And I spent the night. What’s the big deal about that?” You briefly explain yourself. He laughs for a moment before grabbing you by your upper arm and pulling you towards your sister. Now it’s her turn to start backing up, “Ven aqui, her! That’s the big deal. When I ask you to be the sister you need to be, I don’t mean when you feel like it. You know the Santos have been getting into heavy shit lately. I need you here when I’m not!” 

The tension is thick as you pull your arm from his hold and push him, “But when you wanna go and do whatever it’s okay? When you wanna hitch a ride with Spooky to Sin City with dirty ass hynas last week, it’s all good. Business trip, huh? Don’t come for me when you are far from perfect!” 

The two of you are both very stubborn with your brother usually being calm and collected while you’re more expressive with your feelings. Family is important to him especially considering it’s just the three of you. Jose scoffs as you stomp away from him and your now crying sister. 

Oscar suddenly appears in front of you as round the corner and collides with his body. He reaches out to grasp you before you can stumble back, the feelings hitting you all at once, “What are you doing here?” You swallow thickly.

He licks his bottom lip as his eyes rake over your body. Still in your dress from last night, hair unruly and make-up smudged. Anyone can spot a ‘walk of shame’ when they see one. He laughs internally thinking of how you wasted no time after last night’s rejection.

“I offered to drive him when little hermanita called up again worried you weren’t home yet. Seems we know why now.” A small grin painted across his lips, you squint your eyebrows at his words as you hear your brother approaching the two of you. You step back before Spooky migrates his eyes to behind you, “We got business, everything good here?”

José nods and steps beside you, “Don’t be leaving.”

The two guys leave as you stand there a bit dumbfounded. Y/S/N appears next to you and grabs your hand. She apologizes for you getting into trouble with José. You want to yell at her for starting unnecessary drama. But she explains she didn’t want your brother to potentially find out about your little sneaky link with Spooky.

“Well, he and I ended that shit so nothing to worry about. I went out and got wasted. I am done with these guys. No más!” Though even sounding like fake news to yourself, you go and wash off last night’s memories. 

As the day had gone by, you skimmed through your daily journal of all the entries you wrote about Oscar ‘Spooky’ Diaz, ripping them out. All 6 pages. You roll your eyes at your thoughts about him, some sappy and some nasty. How did you believe a man who runs a street gang, that is as mean mugging as Oscar the Grouch from Sesame Street, would be into you the way you are him?

It didn’t matter the answer now. Good riddance of him! That’s when the sound of your window opening pulls you from the wandering thoughts. You stand up quickly, reaching for a bat that’s besides your bed. “Get the fuck out!”

“Calmate! It’s me, Oscar.”

You clutch your chest, doubling over to catch your breath. “What is wrong with you? Ever think of flying a pebble at the window or calling first?” You say as he climbs in, adjusting his flannel before closing the window then your room door. You watch him as he starts to look around your room. Though there’s a part of you that wants him out, you haven’t made any advances to get him out.

He sits on your bed and finally looks at you, “Abajo.”

Uncompliant, you cross your arms and shift your weight to make it known you are fine standing there. He smirks and looks away before locking eyes with you. “You don’t think I like you too? You think I fucked with you for this long cause it was just convenient? Girls everywhere around my place but I was only fucking you. Why do you think that?”

“Is this supposed to be your sweet confession that makes me go all heart eyes? You're gonna apologize and I’m supposed to forgive you and then we give us a try and realize all our worries were nothing but fear that our anxiety instilled in our heads? Because that’s not how it’s gonna go.” You say as he gives you a semi-disgusted look.

You chuckle softly and watch him intently.

Oscar analyzes you closely. It’s a front, no doubt he thinks. He doesn’t deny the thought that you are a thick-skinned woman. He knows you have a superior mind and a mouth to go with it but he knows there is no way that you could’ve gotten over him that quick. Though judging by your appearance earlier in the day, you definitely tried.

You laugh a little more as you step in front of him and lean over to get your vision in line with his. “You made it clear to me and now I’m making it clear. Nothing you say will convince me that you give a rat’s ass about me. If you really did? There would be no sneaky link shit. You wouldn’t have a problem with people knowing about me, or my brother knowing but it is a problem so get out.”

This ticks Ocscar off a bit. He stands which makes you straighten up as he gets in your face, stepping towards you. You are stepping back slowly as he creeps more, “You think you can handle this lifestyle? The constant threats, the territories? You can’t. When it comes to this kind of life, something like love can be the bane of your existence. So we don’t get into it. We don’t get involved because the people we fall for end up dead.”

You’re pressed with your back against the wall and your chests against each other. Oscar’s eyebrows are connected and he’s staring at your agape mouth. His breath is fanning against your lips, emotions hitting you all at once. “I-I slept with someone last night. Got it good too.”

The jealous tactic seems to fail immediately as Oscar laughs. And for some reason the look of amusement on his face seems to be familiar for a reason you can’t seem to figure out.

“Sleeping around is simple, falling for someone is something else entirely. I’m not saying that we jump into something. But at least you know now it’s not just one-sided.” He steps out of your room. You follow and watch him walk down the hall as Y/S/N stands there. She is stunned seeing Oscar nonchalantly trek through the house.

You don’t know what to say. As you look at your little sister, you sigh in defeat trying to explain this one. Instead you go back into your room and shut your door. You got what you wanted, right? But you still feel like something is missing. 

The week had slowly crept on.

A few shifts at the bodega, classes at the community college and life at home. Jose had basically converted you back to your teenage ways. Making sure you were doing your part in parenting your little sister. Friday night Y/S/N wanted to have Dwayne’s BBQ for dinner and since your social life is drier than your skin, you agree. 

The thought of a  BBQ bacon cheeseburger lifts your mood which has been dragging throughout the week. Your sister happily skips into the restaurant as you trail behind slowly, when you enter you look for her and see she chatting up with Dwayne. 

“Y/N!” José calls out and your vision unfocuses from them onto your brother and pile of Santos in a booth. They all look your way including Oscar. You exhale a deep breath through your nose as you put on a fake smile and wave before stepping up to place an order. 

 Your brother approaches you as you look past him to the booth of Santos, “Didn’t know you guys would be here.” He sets down a $20 bill on the counter when the cashier tells you the total. “Foos gotta eat too.” José starts talking to you about something but your focus falls back on Spooky again. You watch as he stands and makes his way towards you. A small panic sets in your chest but fades away as he ends up exiting the BBQ joint. 

Unknowingly to yourself, your watch as he walks to his car. He leans against it and pulls out a cigarette, no matter how hard you try to avert your eyes from him, you can’t. All week you had been doing fine. Even with the little things reminding you of him, even with the memories that have been seeped into your bed. You didn’t dwell too much on thinking of him until you see him now. 

“Talk to him.” 

It’s just like the movies where the car tires come to a screeching halt and there’s the obnoxious crashing sound. You move your eyes to your brother’s. Did he just say what you think he said? “Talk to him? Spooky, what for? Why would I need to talk to him?”

Jose chuckles, “Hermana, I had my suspicions about you two. Then he told me bout it, he acts like it doesn’t bother him much but it does so go talk to him. Yeah, I’m not so thrilled that he’s messing around with my baby sister. I know how he is but I know he wouldn’t do anything to intentionally hurt you so I’m cool with it. So go talk to him, figure that shit out because I’m getting over you moping around the house.”

You push him away as you look back to the red impala.  After a moment of contemplating it, you decide to head out and approach Oscar, he had his eyes on you since he settled by his car. You lean on it besides him and cross your arms, “You told my brother?”

He smirks and shrugs his shoulders. You try your best to keep the smug look off your face. He holds out the cigarette, you take it and inhale. Coughing a bit as the smoke burns your throat a little. You hand it back and sigh, turning to look at him.

“I like you, you like me. I’m not saying we jump into something… but why not?” You question as he exhales some smoke, you lock your eyes into his, “You ain’t cut for this lifestyle, you would be a liability. Plus your brother in my line of work? That makes him vulnerable as well. It woul--”

You groan loudly which quiets him mid-rant, “Drugs, alcohol and money do all the same things to him too. You see how he is when he gets wasted. There are so many things that make you all vulnerable. If he can make it work with the hyna he’s with, then you can make it work with me. Plus I know this lifestyle more than you think. I know when and where to be and not to be. I know who to know and who not to know. I know things! So don’t act all big bad Spooky to me.”

Now standing directly in front of him and he’s peering down at you. He dips his face lowers and looks at your lips as you look at his. In no time your lips are connected. Oscar slides his hands over your waist, gripping it and pushing you flush against him. You bring your hands to cup his face, letting your tongue slip into his mouth. A full on make-out session breaks out.

As if you didn’t dream of something like this happening you smile into the kiss, pulling away, “You get into this with me, it’s not gonna be glitter and gold. This shit is tough, I can’t be worrying about the things I already do plus you.” You nod and kiss him again, wringing your arms around his neck, he hugs you and feels calm for the first time in a while.

So you enjoy the night more than you thought you would be. With your siblings and the Santos at Dwayne’s. After a night of chatting, Oscar asks you to come back to his place. And well since it isn’t your first rodeo, you agree and send Y/S/N home with José. 

You don’t keep your hands off him while heading back to his place, you are pressed against him and kissing his neck, he is loving every moment of it. The both of you get out to head into the house but the mood is killed when you walk in to find Cesar and his friends on the couch who get frightened due to the scary movie playing on the TV.

Oscar cursing under his breath, “Can’t you watch movies at some else’s house?” You elbow him as he rolls his eyes. But Cesar didn’t want to start anything with his older brother so he asks Jamal if they can continue watching at his house. Soon after the house is empty and quiet again. The two of you settle on the couch, you straddling him and pulling your top off.

“Yo! There’s someone posted up outside!” Cesar suddenly bursts through the door which causes Oscar to push you off him and reach for his gun. He tells the younger Diaz, his friends and you to stay put as he checks out the fool that runs up on the Santo trap house. You scramble to put your shirt back on and curse when Cesar trails after his brother. You follow in pursuit, trying to tell Cesar that Oscar said to stay inside. “Who is that?” 

“Ray?” You say out loud though you thought you were just thinking it.

Oscar turns to you when you say the name of none other than his estranged father. You look to both Ray and Oscar, looking at the two men and making the connection. You feel the color get sucked out of your face, oh fuck.

“You know him, who is he?” Cesar asks you and he looks at Oscar. The Santo leader has his eyes on you and is still confused as to how the hell you know his father. “He’s our father.” Oscar says, still looking at you.

The confirmation makes you want to be obliterated right in your very spot. This can’t be happening! Is it? You try to speak but nothing comes out of your mouth. You finally look to Ray who has a small smirk on his face and that’s why that look Oscar had on his face that day seemed so familiar. You saw it that night you went out of town to have a good time. 

“Hola de nuevo, pequeña coyote.” Ray says looking at you. 

You grimace as Oscar connects the dots himself. The amount of heat that settles into your face along with the gasps from Cesar’s friends don’t make it any easier to bear.

“Wait Oscar, wait!” He is stepping towards his father, ready to charge. “I didn’t know he was your dad! Listen to me, please!” You step forward quickly and pull his arm back, he yanks it out of your grasp quickly as you plead for him to listen to you.

Oscar begins to snap at you, “Him? This is who you slept with and you want me to listen to explain? Huh?!” The anger booms in his voice as he is mere inches from your face. Cesar appears next to you trying to get between the two of you. You didn’t think Oscar could ever get so mad. And you have seen the Santo leader in moments of rage before. 

“Mijo, listen..” 

Ray’s voice sounds from behind Oscar now. He turns and wastes no time in welcoming him with a right hook. His father stumbles back as you gasp along with the sounds from the teens. “Oscar!”

You take the initiative to stand between the two of them, holding out a hand against Oscar’s chest as he is heaving and exuding anger. Ray is mending to his jaw as he stands up. You notice the lights of the neighbor had turned on and people were beginning to pile outside of their homes to see all the commotion.

“Oscar just stop and listen to me for one fucking second! No, I did not sleep with Ray. We did get together that night, yes but we didn’t do anything that involves other body parts. I started going off about you with him, I vented and we spent the night drinking. I got too wasted and he offered to let me spend the night in his motel room. Nothing happened!” You release in one breath. 

Everyone looks at you, unable to make sense of the situation. 

“That’s why I came, when she mentioned things about you, I had to come see for myself if what niña said is true. That you’re running the Santos.” The two men stare at each other as you stand in the middle. Your heart is racing. 

Oscar doesn’t say anything as he looks back and forth between his father and you. When you step towards him and reach out to grab his hand, he raises his hand up in defense and steps back. You can see the glint of hurt in his eyes as he backs away from you. Your eyes pleading for him to try to understand everything.

You trail behind a fuming Oscar into his house, you are nearly jogging when you catch up with him. But he steps into his room and slams the door in your face. You step back and sigh. “Please talk to me…Oscar. Nothing happened, you have to believe me.” 

He doesn’t respond as you rest your head on his door. You hold your hands on the door silently cursing yourself. What could you say that made the situation sound better? How could you make it look like it really was nothing even with Ray right there?

A few moments have passed by when the door opens, a still very upset Oscar stands there as he flies forwards a bunch of crumbled paper at you. You watch as the papers fall to your feet and he slams the door in your face again. No context of nothing. 

When you pick up the papers, it’s drawings of you. Portraits sketched out from a ballpoint pen. Some dated as far back as a month ago to as recent as a few days ago. Oscar drew you. He did so multiple times and in such craft it takes your breath away. 

You feel the tears begin to well in your eyes. The pain that you have caused him. How do you fix this?

taglist: @clemmingstylins0n @fairygardenss@princesstiffxoxo@firebenderwolf @spookysnena @mbaku-babygirl @chellybear98@multiyfandomgirl40 @i-just-wanna-live-gc@roury66 @kkim120 @lillict @tinylumpiaa @prettymya3@starrynite7114 @onmyspookysblock @aneitii @b3mybunnybaby  @angelxfics  @spookysbabymama @ladylj @vayagrxce @irenne-stans @boujee-bitches (please let me know if you want to be added or removed!)

[rax-writes]

Enchanted - Part II

Fandom:  The Chilling Adventures of Sabrina Pairing:  Caliban x Reader Warnings:  Violence, death + resurrection Notes:  Part I ♥ Here’s part two! Hope you all like it!

Your relationship with Caliban did not remain a secret for long. Your sister was the first to know.

As you jogged over to her at the carnival the following weekend, you said, “Sister, I have good news and bad news. The good news is that I know how the Plague Kings’ plan to overthrow you. They’ll be keeping an eye on you for any missteps, and once given probable cause, they will force you and Caliban to embark on a quest to retrieve the Unholy Regalia.”

She was visibly stunned, and understandably so. “That’s great! But how did you find all that out?”

“That would be the bad news.”

As if on cue, Caliban then materialized, and wrapped an arm around your waist – which was immediately noticed by Sabrina.

“What did you rope my sister into?” she snarled at Caliban, but you held up a hand to silence them both before the bickering began.

“Caliban came to me and stated that he wished to court me. I first tried to convince him to end the coup in exchange for courtship, but he explained that even if he wanted to, he is unable to stop the Kings. So, instead, the exchange became useful information for courtship.”

“Mhmm,” Sabrina mused disbelievingly, glaring at the man at your side. “And for how long does she have to date you?”

“The only requirement to fulfill our agreement is a single date, hence our presence at this mortal affair,” Caliban answered, then smiled warmly at you. “After that, the status of our courtship is up to my lady.”

“Oh. Well, that’s not so bad,” Sabrina muttered, then shrugged as she turned to you. “At least you can get this night over with and never have to see him again.”

“In all honesty… I am not entirely opposed to seeing him again,” you admitted hesitantly, and Sabrina’s jaw dropped slightly as her brows furrowed in agitation. “Oh, don’t look at me like that, Sister. For Satan’s sake, have you seen him? He’s more than a little easy on the eyes.”

Caliban chuckled, both at your compliment and your sister’s obvious annoyance. “Come, little dove. Let us explore this fanciful event.”

Though the evening had been a delight, and you enjoyed your time with your date, you couldn’t help but notice that Caliban seemed slightly on edge all night. After the sun had gone down, and you’d surveyed the majority of the carnival, Caliban requested to take you to dinner in a nice restaurant. You agreed, and he thoroughly surprised you by taking you to a quiet, romantic rooftop restaurant in Italy, having remembered you stating that Italian was your favorite food. It was the following morning before you realized that he’d been sensing the impending danger of Herod’s attack. Coincidentally, he had disappeared for a short while during dinner, and although he’d claimed to have gone to the restroom, you learned from Sabrina the following morning that he’d actually returned to Greendale to collect King Herod's crown.

Naturally, the two of you had bickered about him cheating your sister the next time you were together, but his soft lips and skilled hands had done wonders to dissipate your anger. Although you refused to admit it, you were positively hooked from thereon out.

You told yourself that you continued the dates and the trysts simply because it was merely an enjoyable pastime. But in truth, it was because you were slowly falling for the prince. Knowing it was a mistake due to his allegiance to Hell, and his position as the enemy of your sister, created a forbidden nature to the romance, and it only made you crave him more.

Little did you know, Caliban felt the same for you. Your smile set his soul aflame, and your laughter made his chest tighten with affection. The sight of your hair fanned across your pillow, mouth slightly agape in pleasure, was not one he would ever grow tired of. He had fallen well and truly in love with you.

This information was kept secret from one another, because both of you were scared to admit such a thing and risk scaring the other away.

It wasn’t long after your mutual realizations that he met your aunts and Ambrose. Although they were all pleased to have met the object of your affection, and they remained civil with him, it was evident that each member of your family distrusted him, and questioned his intentions with you.

Their distrust turned out to be short-lived.

Immediately following your coven’s Hare Moon celebration, one of the Pagans had developed a very intense dislike for you. All it took was for her to sense that you were a very powerful member of your kind – that is, until your powers faded – and she, being a harpy, notorious for their insatiable hunger and lust for torture, had decided that she would feast upon your witch flesh as her next meal.

It was that evening when she appeared. You had been relaxing on the front porch of the Spellman Mortuary, and at first, you thought she was merely a mortal woman – then her wings spread out from behind her as her glamour faded, bird-like legs sprouted from her torso, and her face became hideous, decayed and rotting. You had instinctively tried to run, but it was futile. After all, harpies were originally thought to be the personification of wind, so it was unsurprising that you were in her clutches before you even made it to the door.

The harpy’s sharp talons dug into your shoulders, and you screamed for help as she launched you into the yard. You fell flat on your back, which knocked the wind out of you, and she was on you again in the blink of an eye. As you felt the most impossibly intense, agonizing pain across your abdomen, you screamed again as you glanced down and realized she had torn you open. She began feasting on your flesh and organs, blood dripping from her claws as she ravaged you.

You were vaguely aware of a horrified scream from Sabrina somewhere behind you. She had just swung open the front door of the Spellman household to see the ghastly scene before her, Aunt Zelda, Aunt Hilda, and Ambrose right behind her. With a roar of pure rage, Ambrose charged at the harpy with his blade drawn, which drew her away from you. Sabrina and Hilda then kneeled beside you, the former with tears in her eyes and a terrified look on her face as she held your hand, and the latter clearly trying to hide her panic as she unsuccessfully attempted to heal you. But your injuries were far too extensive, and your loved ones’ magick was far too weak.

The unmistakable sound of a gunshot pierced through the night air, and you weakly turned your head to see Aunt Zelda holding a shotgun, Ambrose a few feet from your attacker, and the harpy lying dead on the ground. The two then ran over to you, both dropping to their knees at your side, their faces just as solemn and fearful as Sabrina and Aunt Hilda.

It was then, looking upon the panic-stricken faces of your family, that you knew you were going to die.

Darkness began to cloud your vision, and you vaguely heard your sister sobbing, and aunts and cousin begging you to stay conscious, giving you empty promises that they would find a way to fix this, and that everything would be alright. In the midst of all their hysterics, it seemed an idea donned on Sabrina.

“Caliban!” she screamed desperately into the night, her voice breaking from the force as she put behind it.

He appeared instantly, the usual vortex of flames escorting him onto the scene. He opened his mouth, no doubt to make a smug retort to Sabrina’s unceremonious summoning, before his eyes fell on you.

“No,” Caliban whispered in disbelief, still frozen on the spot. Blood poured from your abdomen, and the sight of you torn open and half-dead filled him with a sense of gripping terror and worry he had never before experienced. He ran over to you, skidding to a stop on his knees and gently cradling your head in his hands.

“Do something!” Sabrina begged, a sob raking her body. Caliban panicked for a split second, then a solution came to him. It was a last ditch effort kind of plan, but seeing as your eyes had already drifted shut, and your body was growing colder by the second, he knew that he must do something that would absolutely ensure your survival.

“With a desperate heart and no time to waste, I call upon all three Fates!”

In a cloud of smoke, three hooded figures appeared. Each had clouded eyes, long white hair, and greenish-gray, wrinkled skin.

“Fates, I beseech you to save this woman’s life,” Caliban pleaded.

“In exchange for our aid, you must give up the fate you have been pursuing so fiercely.” The Fates spoke in unison, their voices raspy and eerie. “You must cease your pursuit of the throne of Hell, and no longer seek to make Earth the tenth circle.”

“I shall. Here and now, I end my quest to become King of Hell, and remake the Earth as the tenth circle,” Caliban vowed. The lack of hesitation and conviction in his voice astounded each of the Spellman’s, although that was but a minor thought in the back of their minds at the moment. “Just save the woman I love, please.”

The Fates disappeared without another word in another cloud of smoke, at the same moment that a ragged, desperate gasp tore from your lips. The Spellman’s and Caliban all snapped their eyes back down to you. The fatal wound had been healed, and even your clothing was fixed. You sat bolt upright, as if you’d just been necromanced back to life – and, technically, you had. As you looked around at your loved ones, the realization that you were alive and safe sunk in, and you immediately began to cry.

“I saw Dad. I saw him,” you sobbed pitifully, and your family took you into their arms. You despised how weak you sounded, but seeing your father was something you were entirely unprepared for. Caliban rubbed his palm up and down your back, not wanting to interfere with your familial embrace. Still crying into Auntie Zee’s chest, you explained, “I died. I died and Dad was there waiting for me. He hugged me and told me that he was happy to see me, but it wasn’t my time yet.”

It was several minutes before you were able to compose yourself, although you supposed that was somewhat to be expected for someone who had just died then came back to life. After your aunts wiped your tears, you turned around to look at Caliban.

“I know you had something to do with this. We’re all powerless right now, so that is the only explanation,” you whispered. “What did you do?”

Caliban hesitated a moment, so Ambrose answered for him.

“He called upon the Fates. They demanded that he give up the fate he has been pursuing, in order to save you. So, he vowed to give up the throne of Hell, and said it was to save the woman he loves.”

You looked slowly from Ambrose back to Caliban. He appeared slightly perturbed that Ambrose revealed what he’d said in that moment of fear-fueled vulnerability, but didn’t bother to deny it.

“Caliban… is that true?”

“As I’ve told you before: anything for you,” Caliban answered, giving you a soft smile. You threw your arms around his neck, and he immediately wrapped his around your waist.

“I love you,” you murmured, your face buried in his neck. Caliban held you tightly and pressed a kiss to your temple.

“And I love you, little dove.”

[mersuperwholocked-lowlife]

Not Blood But Family

Word Count: 1,922

Characters: Dean Winchester, Castiel (brief), Sam Winchester (mentioned), OC Character, Reader

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: angst, some slight fluff

A/N: me: hey i should post at least once a week   also me: hey guys i’m back from a random ass hiatus

A/N 2: enjoy the dog poop

A/N 3: lisa’s daughter btw

Masterlist

You shot your eyes around the darkened room, squinting as you tried to make out any figure, seeing if there was anyone who was being held captive with you. Unfortunately for you, you were all alone. You could barely make out the bruises on your wrists, the rope burns caused by being tied up for days. 

“Hey!” you yelled.

“Hey! I know you can hear me! What the hell do you want from me?!” you screamed as loud as you could, more annoyed than scared.  

Ever since you found both your mother and younger brother dead, you’d given up any emotion you could show, mainly numb inside.  

“Ugh,” you groaned softly, laying your head back against the wall as you leaned against it, closing your eyes for a moment. 

Everyone always warned you, don’t hitchhike, and now you’ve learned your lesson.

---

“Did you just take a picture of me?” you squinted your eyes, sitting chained up to a chair as you saw a bright light flash.

“Freak,” you scoffed.

He ignored your comments, grabbing a fistful of your hair, pulling it up as you grunted, clenching your jaw.

 He just chuckled, pushing you back. You could feel the blood trickling from your forehead as you breathed heavily.

“If you’re trying to sell me, no one’s gonna buy me. I’m a pain in the ass,” you struggled against your chains.

You were met with a blank expression from the man, having not said a single word to you. 

“If you’re planning on killing me, at least give me the decency of some good conversation,” you laid back in your chair.

You heard his phone ring as he turned his back to you, picking it up.

“Yes, sir. I have (Y/N) with me. I’ve sent a picture to you to send to Dean Winchester,” you poked your head up, hearing an unfamiliar name before be hung up.

“Who’s Dean Winchester,” you asked.

“You’ll find out soon enough... or not,” he shrugged.

You could feel a slight panic in your chest as you stiffened, seeing him walk towards you while clutching a knife.

“Keep that away from me,” you tried and tried to pull your chains, trying to stay away as he grabbed you, pressing the knife against your shoulder.

“Let's have some fun.”

---

“Hey. Hey!” you groaned as you squinted your eyes, hearing someone calling your name in a distance.

“Wake up, (Y/N), please,” you felt him out a hand on your shoulder, cutting open the ropes tying you down.

“Hmm, who are you?” you winced softly, your body ached from all the miniature cuts all over it.

“I’m… I’m here to help,” Dean said. He debated whether or not to tell who he was, pushing your arm around his shoulder.

“How do you know who I am?” you groaned. You blinked your eyes, fading in and out of consciousness.

“Just stay quiet. Come on,” you breathed heavily as you took a step forward, falling onto him completely.

“(Y/N)?!”

---

“Holy shit!” you groaned, sitting up in the bed as you looked around cautiously.

“(Y/N),” you tensed slightly as Dean wrapped his arms around you tightly.

You felt a sense of relief washing over you, feeling a safety that you haven't felt in a long time as you exhaled softly.

“W-Wait, who are you?” you asked.

He stood up, sitting in front of you at the side of your bed.

“You don't remember me, but I knew your mom, a-and your brother,” your face dropped, frowning as you scooted a little away from him.

“Who are you,” you asked again.

“My name is Dean Winchester,” he said.

You thought back for a minute, trying to think where you heard that name before.

You remembered, hearing the man saying his name.

“That… guy mentioned you,” you started.

“Well, I have some bad blood with his boss and they were trying to use you to get to me,” he explained.

You stayed quiet for a moment, before talking again.

“Why me? I don’t even know you,” you shook your head.

His face dropped slightly, looking at you as you ran your fingers through your hair, slightly nervous.

“My friend is coming, everything will be cleared up, okay?” Dean asked.

You nodded, wrapped your arms around your legs as you exhaled sharply, laying your head on your lap.

You heard the noise of something fluttering, as you frowned, looking up. You jumped back, seeing a man appear in front of you.

You could feel your heart racing as the man reached two fingers on your forehead, his eyes glowing blue.

You felt a sense of warmth over you, feeling warmth in your body as it healed. You gasped softly, seeing visions with Dean inside your head. Everything from the years that past came back to you as you pulled away from Castiel, pushing yourself off the bed.

“Dean,” you remembered.

“Yeah, it’s me,” he took a step forward, walking to you.

You shook your head, stepping backward. He turned his head to the side, slightly in shock.

“You’re Castiel,” you said.

“So then where’s Sam,” you asked softly.

“Sam’s at this place we live at. This bunker,” Dean replied.

You continued to stand there quietly, running your fingers through your hair as you turned your head away from Dean.

“I heard that… Lisa’s gone,” you tensed as your mom’s name fell from his mouth.

“Yeah, so is Ben,” you kept your emotions of both anger and grief hidden.

“(Y/N), I’m sorry-” he started.

“Shut up,” you glared at him.

“(Y/N), I-” he tried to speak again, only for you to cut him off once more.

“I said shut up, Dean. Thanks for the help, I’ll be on my way,” you began heading for the door as Dean stopped you.

“Why are you acting like this?” he asked.

“Like what?” you rolled your eyes.

“Why are you acting so cold? So different?”  he crossed his arms.

“Don’t start with me, Dean,” you scoffed, crossing your arms.

Dean motioned to Castiel, telling him to leave as he nodded.

“What happened?” he asked.

“What happened? My family is dead, Dean,” you spat.

“I know, I-I’m sorry-” 

“Saying sorry won't bring them back. It was your choice to leave, you had to know that this was a possibility,” you crossed your arms as you glared at Dean.

“The only reason I left was because I wanted to keep the three of you safe. I couldn't have done that if you guys were with me,” he tried to explain while you kept ignoring his words.

“You don't owe me an explanation. You’re not my dad you don't owe me anything,” you could see the look in his eyes fade away.

“I know I’m not your real dad, but that doesn't mean we're not family,” he started.

“You're just a guy that lived with us for a year, who had a past,” you knew you were hurting him, and hurting yourself while at it. 

You couldn't let your guard down and you knew it. Even if Dean was there for you when you needed someone the most, when you had boy problems, school problems, things somehow your mom didn't understand, he always helped you. With all the late nights you spent crying, trying to convince yourself that you don’t need help, he was always there by your side. 

Not that you would ever admit that. Dean was the only person your mom dated who cared about you and Ben.

“You know that it’s deeper than that, (Y/N). I’m sorry I left, I’m sorry I erased your memory of me. I was just trying to keep you safe,” he said.

“Stop apologizing,” you shook your head.

“Will you come back with me?” he asked after a moment of silence.

“W-What?” you were slightly taken aback by his question, not sure why you were so surprised.

“We have a home now. A sort of home, it’s a bunker. But we live there, and there's more than enough room for you to live with us,” he explained.

“Are you… even after everything I just said?” you frowned.

“Yes. You're still 17, you still, technically need a legal guardian. I know that you’re not happy with me, but I’m gonna fix that. Come live with us,” he said.

“What if I say no?” you raised an eyebrow.

“I know you’re not going to. You hate being alone,” he replied.

“I’ve been alone for a year, I can-”

“I’m sorry you had to be alone for so long. Please, come with me,” he begged again.

You could feel your eyes watering slightly as you frowned, biting your lip nervously.

“Dean, please stop,” you wiped your face with your hands, closing your eyes as you took a deep breath.

“Stop what?” he asked, frowning slightly.

“Why do you care about me?” you whispered softly.

“What do you mean?” he crossed his arms, taking a step closer to you.

You looked up at him, your eyes red and watery as his face dropped.

“I’m not… I’m not your kid o-or anything, why do you always try to take care of me?” you closed your eyes, feeling a tear escape down your cheek.

“(Y/N), listen to me,” he put his hand on your cheek, wiping your tear away. 

“I know I’m not blood, kid, but I’m still your dad, you’re still my kid. Nothing’s gonna change that, no matter what. I love you so much, kid. I’m still your family and you’re still mine. I would never leave you, I-I would never hurt you,” he continued to stroke your cheek, while you kept your tears at bay.  

“My real dad didn’t want me,” you whispered.

“That’s cuz he’s an idiot. Come here,” he wrapped his arm around you tightly as you shut your eyes, letting your tears fall freely while you let out a shaky cry, holding onto him tightly.

He kissed your forehead softly, then rested his chin on the top of your head. 

“I got you, you’re safe now,” he said softly.

“You’re okay now.”

---

You shot up in your bed, looking around cautiously as your breathing was labored. You looked around, before remembering that you were at the bunker as you let out a breath of relief. 

Maybe I should tell Dean

No stop bothering him and just try to sleep

Nightmares weren’t uncommon for you, whether it was about Lisa and Ben, or about any event that happened to you in the past year. You were alone, nothing was ever easy, and most people were the absolute worst. 

You found yourself trying to stop your hands from shaking as you rested your head on your lap, hearing the door open as you looked up.

“Dean?” you asked. 

“What are you doing up? I thought you went to sleep hours ago,” he sat down next to you on the bed. 

“Well, I did, it’s just…” your voice drifted off, trying to figure out how to explain your nightmares without Dean having pity on you. He already gave you a home, a place to feel safe.

“Your nightmares?” he asked.

“How did you know?” you frowned.

“Because it’s normal. Come on, I’m staying with you tonight,” he laid down in the bed, wrapping his arm around you in a protective manner. 

You yawned softly, snuggling up into Dean’s side as you closed your eyes, slowly drifting off to sleep. 

“Thank you, Dad.”

Dean smiled softly, kissing your forehead.

“Anything for you, kiddo.”

[filipinhce]

[ 𝒍𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒈𝒐 ] levi ackerman

▸ description: in which you're in the verge of death and levi chooses between you, erwin or armin. ▸  pairing: reader 𝒙 levi ackerman ▸ genre: angst ▸ warnings: major character death (y/n), mentions of blood and death. levi is a bit ooc ▸  a/n: this is my first ever one shot please, please give me validation!

FOR ALL YOUR life you have been fighting for the freedom you have always wanted. You wanted to go beyond the wall, you wanted to see the world beyond. Yet freedom cost more than you think. Yes, you were willing to sacrifice your own life for freedom, you knew that. In the back of your head you already accepted that death was inevitable. 

You allowed your right hand to fall onto the wound on your torso that was covered by your scout uniform. You tried to yell for help but your throat felt like sandpaper and your eyes had started to drop within the second. However, you were stubborn as hell so you tried to fight it. Fight it, y/n. You are a captain in the scout regiment you're not gonna die so easily, not until someone sees you. You thought to yourself. 

You thought you’d die without anyone seeing you or anyone. It’s funny how you tried to cling to your life but you already knew that you were dying. Not yet, you thought, I just need to see him, one last time, please. Him, all you could think about was him right now. 

“y/n!” Hange? “Jean! Connie! Over here!” You heard different noises but soon enough you felt your body being lifted from the rubble you laid on. You also felt something starting to wrap around your torso. “Stay with me y/n.” Hange continued to mutter towards her as he banged your wound. Trying her best to stop the bleeding.

“Hange..” you managed to whisper. “I’m happy you're alive.” Your voice was hoarse and barely there but it was heard by your bestfriend. Hange smiled at you slightly, trying their best to be positive that you’d be safe, that you’d survive. 

“I’ve got you. Captain.” Jean mutters as he carried you. The boy looked at Hange and they nodded their head. You, however, you were starting to fade away. Your conscious was in and out. All you could feel was the wind against your skin, the same thing you felt whenever you used your gear. The feeling you loved more than anything in the world. The feeling of flying. For you it was the feeling of being free.  

“Hey, you’ve got to be kidding me.” Jean whispered once he landed while carrying you on his back. His eyes landed on Armin who was practically burnt then on nearly dead Erwin. 

“No way..” Connie mutters in shock as well. 

“You cant be serious.” Hange added as she saw the two as well. They knew it was now a choice of who gets the serum. Hange struggles to hold back Mikasa as Levi’s gaze goes to the girl on Jean’s back. HIs eyes widened at the sight of you almost lifeless. Your skin color was paler than before and the white bandages now dark red from the blood that spewed from your wound. Jean had already placed you just beside Erwin. Everyone watched as Levi walked closer to your body. 

As you struggled to open your eyes, you tilted your head to the side. Blurriness was all you saw but once your vision cleared just a bit you saw two more bodies. Armin and Erwin, both struggling for their lives like you were. You knew it would come down to a decision hard to make. Was it Erwin? Humanity’s greatest chance of achieving victory. Was it Armin? The boy who had an incredible mind that could save humanity. Or is it you? The girl who could change the world. It was no doubt that Eren and Mikasa wanted it to be Armin, while Hange and Floch knew it was supposed to be Erwin, but Levi? He knew it could to be you. He knew you were capable of leading the regiment, you have always been Erwin’s choice to be the next commander yet you denied it as you wanted to retire after the retake of Wall Maria. Was it a selfish choice? Yes it was, but for once can he be selfish?

“Y/N…” Levi said in a low tone, your eyes slowly went from Erwin to the man beside you. You did your best to smile, even if it hurt, when you saw Levi’s eyes. Levi listened to Hange give a speech about what they felt when it comes to losing someone. They all knew this was a hard decision to make especially to Levi. Hange knew how much Levi had grown fond of you, whether it was because of your stubbornness or your sweet smile, Levi had grown to like you.

 The captain had already taken the serum and injection from its case when Eren grabbed a hold of his ankle. Eren asked Levi about the sea, while for you everything was starting to grow heavy. You wanted to rest, even for a short time. You heard Levi telling them to leave. Once again you heard the gears go off and you knew you were left there with Levi, who has the toughest job of all. To choose between the three of you. 

When you felt the sleeve of your jacket being pulled up, your eyes opened. Your hands shakily grabbed Levi’s hands, a small smile on your face. The smile that he wished to see every morning. “Make the right choice.” 

“I am.” he replied shortly. “I know you could help lead us to victory.” 

“I’m not the right choice, we both know that.” Your voice came out weaker than before, Levi knew your time was running out. 

“I can’t lose you too.” he mutters, His mother, Isabelle, Furlan, Eld, Petra, Ororou, Gunther, the list goes on, he lost so many already. Not you too.

You managed to laugh a bit. “I won’t leave you.” you said softly. You struggled to move your right hand but you did, you place it on where Levi’s heart was. “As shitty as it sounds, I’ll always be here.” 

“You should've stayed behind.” Levi mutters. “You told me you were gonna stay behind, it would've been easier.” 

“I never liked easy things.” you started off. “Maybe that’s why I liked you. Being your friend wasn't easy, making you smile was the hardest thing I ever did.” you continued to ramble even if your body hurt, you wanted to say these things first. “But believe it or not, it’s the best thing I did. Levi, I know the decision isn't easy but I know you’ll do the right thing.” you advised and gave him one last smile. “For humanity, I’m happy enough to lay my life.” she mutters to herself, convincing herself that she was okay with this. 

“You can let me go, now.” you say happily, even if pained you to leave him by himself, you couldn't fight fate. “I love you.” and with those words you drew your final breath. 

Levi looked at you, sadness in his eyes. He saw as the smile still on your face was now lifeless. He knew he would do the right thing like you said, even if it broke him. He was supposed to open his mouth to say the words you have been dying to hear for him. I love you too. 

But he was too late.

[existslikepristin]

What A... Bummer

Desc: The fic that (sort of) started it all. Sorry for the funky formatting, as this was mostly just copy/pasted from Discord, where I ran the polls. You may also find it here if you prefer AFF: https://www.asianfanfics.com/story/view/1462191/what-a-bummer-aka-i-m-so-sorry

Tags: TheLounge, Gfriend, Eunha, Yerin, maleOC"you", mostly butt things, angry bunny, vote story, backlog story

~~~~~

You knock on the dressing room door. Just inside is your Gfriend... as in "good friend" Eunha. Today is a very exciting day, and it's been a long time coming. She released her first solo album at midnight and she was at the first show where she would perform it live in front of a camera.

The two of you have been close... "good friends," as they say, for a while now. And you managed to convince security to let you in so you could give her a gift before she goes on stage. After all, you're proud of her accomplishment!

You hear shuffling inside the room and know she's on her way over. You really hope she likes the present!

What was the present again?

Options: 1. Champagne, baby! You got the expensive stuff! 2. A basket of healthy fruits! You're wholesome as fuck! 3. Your buddy Yerin! Can't celebrate without a good laugh! 4. (Picked:) A buttplug?! Who the fuck do you think you are?

~~~~~

You hold the box behind yourself as the door opens. Just inside is your buddy Eunha, all by herself. Not a surprise since you saw her manager downstairs earlier.

And she looks awesome. Her hair is cut short again, just to her jawline, but instead of curling in like her normal bob, it flares out at the bottom. She's got on a white shirt, cut low enough to just tease at her cleavage (even though you happen to know she's hardly got any cleavage without the pushup). Below she's wearing a super short black skirt, with a slit on one side that nearly reaches her hip bone, but her safety shorts hide the real goods. You know she has some tall black heels for this outfit since you were there when her stylist picked them out, but she's barefoot for now, nails on her fingers and toes painted all black.

She shouts happily and jumps up to wrap her arms around you as soon as she sees you. You barely manage to keep her from dragging you down to the floor, putting your arms around her too. "You came!"

"Of course I did!" you shout, "Congratulations!"

The top of her head barely reaches your chin while she's on her toes. She nuzzles her head into your neck. Her hair dresser would flip her shit, but it's okay if it's just for a second, right?

She suddenly grabs the box from your hand. The sly little idol.

"Yerin told me you were bringing me a present. I thought she might be lying, but..."

Eunha tears the wrapping off the box. You'd be a little offended, but you did the same thing to the last birthday gift she got you.

"Now... what am I supposed to do with this thing?"

Eunha holds up the butt plug. You grin, recognizing the excellence of the thing. Stainless steel, polished like a mirror, a bright red gemstone embedded into it (and yeah, you got a real gem for it), and big. Real big.

Options: 1. (Picked:) "You keep it inside you, once I help put it there." 2. "WOAH. That's not what I thought it was, I swear! Yerin tricked me!" 3. "How the fuck should I know?"

~~~~~

"What are you supposed to do with it?" you ask as you take a couple steps forward.

"You keep it inside you, once I help put it there."

Eunha puts the butt plug up to her mouth. "Like this?" She licks it and puts it in her mouth, as far as she can at least. She looks up into your eyes, looking as innocent as she can. You would almost buy the stupid act too, but you know she's got somewhere to be.

You grab her by the shoulders and spin her around. Then you drop to your knees so your face is directly next to her ass. It takes up your whole field of vision. But still, there's no time to waste. You grab the sides of her safety shorts and yank down. As expected, there's nothing underneath and you can instantly spread her glorious cheeks to be greeted by...

Oh damn, she's already got a plug in.

Eunha giggles above you. "Don't worry. I like yours better. Help me swap them and you can keep that one."

Not a bad solution.

The plug takes a little work to get out. Eunha half-moans, half-laughs as you wiggle it back and forth to get it moving. She reaches back to spread her ass cheeks to give you better access and a fantastic view.

And eventually, with a little pop, the plug comes out. It's much smaller than the one you brought, made of silicon, and much more boring.

You stand and hold it in front of Eunha. She instantly sticks her tongue out to lick off the lube.

"It's almost like you've done this before, isn't it?" you ask with a smirk.

"It's almost like you know that personally," she says over her shoulder.

You take the brand new butt plug out of her hand and get back on your knees. Eunha instinctively spreads her ass again. You can still see some of the glistening of the lube that was there for the last plug, so it's probably at least safe to put the new one in without anything extra. Then again, the new butt plug is pretty big...

1. (Picked:) Stick it in rough. This might mess up her performance, getting you a punishment later. 2. Give her a good lube up with your tongue first. You know from experience that she loves this, and you'll be well rewarded later.

~~~~~

You know, you and Eunha have been good friends for quite a while now. How bad would it really be if you messed up her performance just this once... And besides, her cute, tiny little asshole just needs a real good stretch sometimes right?

Right.

Eunha waves her ass from side to side, bent over a bit, mostly for the presentation. "I'm ready for it. What are you waiting for?"

Well, she said it! You line up the top of the plug at her lube-short hole, earning you a sultry giggle from the idol. You give it a slow twist to one side, the other side, brace your elbow, and shove like you've never shoved before.

You're not quite sure whether or not you were successful. It seems like time slowed down... You felt the tension of her ass resisting the plug up to the widest part, followed by it giving way as it tapered back down. But that only took a second or so, and Eunha didn't react. The dressing room is dead silent.

Then, Eunha falls to the floor. To her knees, then onto her hands. You're more than a little worried, so you move to her side to see her face. Her mouth is open like she's screaming, but there's still no sound, until she whispers, "What... the f-f-fuck... is wrong with you?"

Her eyes slowly turn in your direction so you give her your biggest, winning smile. But there's fire in her eyes. You're suddenly feeling like you may have made a bad choice.

There's a knock on the door and a voice comes through, "Eunha? We'll be starting your stage in five minut--"

"I'LL BE RIGHT THERE!" Eunha screams. You hear the PA muttering as they walk away.

You open your mouth to say something, but you forget what it was when you get smacked in the jaw. Eunha is still holding herself with one hand, but the other is floating menacingly next to your face, nails looking beautiful but also ready to tear you apart.

Clearly trying to compose herself, Eunha lowers her head and whispers again, "Go find Yerin... and wait for the stage... now."

It's probably best not to argue. You get up and and make your way to the door. You turn back to look at her though. She hasn't really moved, and you get a great look at her thicc ass sticking into the air with your plug poking out from between her cheeks.

You know for sure you're going to get punished later, but you think maybe you should say something?

Options: 1. Apologize. You can admit, you fucked up. You'll still get punished, but maybe she'll go easy on you? 2. (Picked:) Never mind, say nothing. You'll obviously just make it worse. 3. Just laugh. Eunha doesn't have connections to any hitmen, does she?

~~~~~

For the sake of your personal safety, you think it's probably best to just go. You slip through the door quickly so nobody can see through the door and make your way to the stage.

Yerin is pretty easy to pick out of the crowd for you, as she's wearing her usual thick sweatshirt, plain jeans, tennis shoes, hat, facemask, and glasses that make it impossible for her to be recognized in public. She's in the back of the crowd, holding a gigantic sign that says "I LOVE YOU EUNHA I WANT TO HAVE YOUR BABIES" as a joke. You remember the first time she said that was when Eunha was fucking her with a strap on. It looks like everyone in the crowd is too busy practicing their fanchant to really notice the overtly sexual (and nonsense) sign.

"Yo slut," you casually say as you walk up next to her.

"About time you got here whore," she says back, clearly grinning mischievously behind the mask. You smirk back.

"So, did she like her gift?"

Your smirk fades, "Uuuh. You know, she will probably have to tell you that herself."

"Mmm, I will. And then I'll take it out of her, put it back in and lick all around it... ugh, I'm so wound up. Hey. If I masturbated while we watch the stage, would you keep an eye out so I don't get caught?"

Options: 1. "Of course! I've always got your back my dude." 2. (Picked:) "You want to do it yourself? But I'm right here." 3. "Woah, Yerin. Don't be so weird. Just enjoy the show like a normal person. Sheesh."

~~~~~

You give Yerin a smirk and move behind her. She points at her eyes and swings her hand in a circle, her nerdy way of telling you to keep watch. You get the feeling she'll enjoy what you have in mind.

After a couple of minutes go by, the fans scream as the stage hands walk off and the lights go dim. You and Yerin join them in the cheer, welcoming your hot little buddy into the spotlight. Yerin holds her sign high and shouts her support.

As the lights come back up, you see Eunha, cool and calm like the professional she is, with her backup dancers. You're a little surprised (and slightly disappointed) at her exceptional composure.

The first note of the song hits and the crowd instantly shuts up, ready to fanchant like hell. That's when you seize the chance to shove your hand down the back of Yerin's jeans and pop the still-lubed butt plug (the one you took out of Eunha earlier and never did get rid of) into Yerin's ass. It slides in like butt...er.

Eunha jumps into her dance and Yerin jumps up and down with the music with no regard for your hand down her pants. You feel like you might get a rash. But either way, you soldier on and reach in further, until you can touch her clit.

There's one move in Eunha's dance that draws a big gasp from the crowd, where she bends over and presents her ass. Her safety shorts hide the butt plug... for anyone who isn't paying close attention. They aren't especially good at hiding how deep the crack of her ass is, and there's just one very slightly bulged out part.

Yerin moans back at you, "Holy shit, she is so fucking hot up there," as she grinds herself down against your hand, drowning your fingers in her juices. "I just want to sit on her face, pull her legs back and pump a dildo into her helpless butt."

You smile at the thought. Maybe Yerin will be on your side if Eunha is still angry when you meet back up, considering that she also wants to destroy Eunha's asshole.

Yerin doesn't quite cum before the song is over. You take your hand out of her pants just in time not to be seen by all of the fans turning around to leave. She groans in frustration.

"Let's run to the dressing room and see if she can finish me off. I was so close!"

Options: 1. "Hey wait. She might be a little mad. I may have done something a little mean..." 2. (Picked:) "Yeah, definitely! Let's go get those shorts off her!"

~~~~~

You confidently walk through the halls next to Yerin. The whole time, Yerin bounces up and down, distracting you with the constant thought of ass. A couple times she even turns her head, sees you staring, winks, and spanks herself. You forget entirely about the confession you considered making.

Once at the dressing room, you see that the door is already open. Weird?

Yerin jumps through the door and shouts "YEAH EUNHA!"

The display of enthusiasm is met with silence. Yerin scratches her head and walks further into the room. "Maybe her mic got stuck in her hair?" she ponders.

You walk in too. You're about to comment, but there's a sudden sharp pain in the back of your neck. You attempt to put your hand up to slap at whatever bug got in here, but your hand just falls limp. So do your legs. And your vision goes dark as you vaguely feel yourself falling to the floor.

* * *

"He's waking up," you hear a garbled voice say. All you can see are blurry shapes as you open your eyes, but they come into focus very slowly.

"Don't stop!" another garbled voice shouts, making you suddenly feel a pounding in your head. Did you go too hard on some vodka?

The voices (or just one voice really) start clearing up. You hear Yerin moaning, turning slowly into a scream. And eventually your eyes confirm it.

About ten feet in front of you, Yerin's face and torso are pressed against a bed, with her butt held up against Eunha's face. Her legs are trembling wildly. Eunha's hands are gripping Yerin's hips tight, her eyes are closed, and her legs are folded underneath her. They're both entirely naked, and you have a side view of it all.

It would be a little more exciting if you weren't chained by the legs and wrists to a wooden chair.

And you look down to see that you're naked too, other than some kind of device locked very uncomfortably around your dick.

There's a thud as Eunha drops Yerin onto the bed. Yerin is apparently exhausted by the orgasm she just had, because she's not moving.

Eunha shakes her head to refluff her hair that was being pressed against her cheeks and looks at you.

"Good morning," she says blandly.

You try to respond but your tongue feels weird and doesn't move properly so you kind of just blubber.

Eunha slides off the bed and takes a few steps to stand right in front of you. A tiny drop of her cum falls from her pussy onto your knee. Damn, they must have been at this for a while.

Her entire body is bare in front of you, practically on top of you, and it's so incredibly sexy. Under normal circumstances, this is when she would sit down and ride you for hours. But she isn't sitting down, and your dick is being painfully stopped from getting hard by the contraption it's in.

"So... do you have anything to say now?"

Options: 1. Yup. Apologize. 2. (Picked:) Yeah, you enjoyed her solo debut! 3. Nope. Nothing to say. 4. Yes.. BeGONE, THOT

~~~~~

You smirk, ever so slightly unsure of yourself, or if what you're saying is a good idea. The corner of your mouth trembles as you say, "Yeah, I really liked your solo debut. You did great up there."

Eunha leans over, putting her hands on the back of the chair you're tied to. It would be a great chance to stare at her perky little titties up close if her threatening gaze wasn't holding your eyes. Her face comes in closer. You can feel her fuming hot nose breaths on your forehead. Your own breath is caught in your throat, and your lungs start to burn with how long she stares you down.

"Be glad I'm a professional. And thanks," she says, very flatly.

As she stands back up and turns away from you, and you release a huge sigh of relief.

"Yerin, over here please. I'm going to need your tongue in my ass."

With a groan, Yerin rolls off the bed and crawls to Eunha, kneeling between her and you. Eunha leans forward, putting her hands on the bed for support. If there was any question about what your punishment was before now, it was pretty clear now.

Eunha spreads her ass, her perfectly painted black nails creating a frame for the asshole you love so much. It's only a few feet away from you. You can feel your dick trying to harden but the cage just makes it... well it doesn't hurt, but it's extremely uncomfortable.

And then Yerin's head appears between you and that beautiful butt. Her hands grip onto the backs of Eunha's thighs, squeezing the flawless flesh as if she were trying to hold herself up on the edge of a cliff. You know the exact moment when Yerin's tongue meets Eunha's ass. The shorty has a very characteristic half-squeal-half-moan that comes out of her every time something wet touches it. You might have thought you could look away to stop the discomfort in your cock, but that sound brings back too many memories of your entire face being buried in those cheeks.

"Oh... Oh yes. Good girl."

You watch as Eunha slowly pushes back against Yerin's face, over and over. It lasts for hours? Days? You could never tell. Her squeals and encouragement get louder, more urgent. You can't help but let out a quiet groan of your own.

But like the rabbit she is, Eunha heard. She twists her upper body to look at you without disturbing Yerin. "What was that? Do you want to fuck this ass? Do you-- fuck..."

Her eyes screw shut as a brief shiver of pleasure runs through her body. You can see her legs quaking for a moment. She's close.

"Do you want Yerin's pretty little mouth to dip up and down on your cock to lube you up for-- fffuck!"

Again, a shiver. It's longer this time, and Eunha almost falls, her feet sliding a few inches farther apart before she catches herself. There's a loud slurping noise as Yerin moves to accomodate the change and gets a much needed breath of air.

One of Eunha's hands shoots to her inner thigh and you can barely see past Yerin's shoulder that she's squeezing herself tight. She would often remind you about how she would do that to make her orgasms more intense, so now you know exactly what (or rather, who) is coming.

Even so, she manages to gasp out nearly a full sentence, "You want my ass clenching around your cock when--" The last word melts into one long squeal and trails off from there into a silent scream. Her whole body shakes violently except where Yerin is holding her down tight.

You could swear it lasts for a whole minute. Agonizing for you and Eunha in different ways. But when she collapses face first onto the bed, her knees hitting the floor softly as Yerin guides her down, it's over. Except for the few extra twitches when Yerin gives her ass a couple of licks. You release a long breath that you didn't even realize you were holding.

Yerin climbs up to cuddle Eunha from behind, kissing her neck, shoulders, and back. The two of them giggle lightly at the gentle touches, making no move to point their beautiful, still-wet asses away from you.

"Time for your fanmeet?" Yerin asks softly after a minute or two.

Eunha sighs and pulls herself away from Yerin. "Yes, I guess we should get going."

As you expected, you're not getting any. At least not soon. You casually watch the members making their way around the room, collecting their clothes and getting dressed back up.

And notably, not untying you.

"That sure was amazing," you say, suddenly nervous, "Maybe I should help set up the chairs for the fanmeet?"

Yerin chuckles, "They're already set up, man."

"But... the audio right? You know? Do some mic checks?"

Eunha stands in front of a mirror, brushing her hair to get it back to looking presentable. "Oh that's fine. Manager's taken care of it."

You struggle to think of something else to say, or to think of what's about to happen.

"But don't worry," Eunha struts over to you and pats your knee, "SinB will be coming in after the fanmeet to let you go."

You groan. SinB rejects you any time she thinks it would be funny, which is literally every time. She probably won't even unlock the cage on your dick.

"I'll see you tomorrow," Eunha smooches your forehead like you're a pet she's leaving home for the day, and then drops a key down her shirt and into her bra. It's not hard to guess what the key is for. "And when I do, I'll have cheered up, and I'll bounce on your cock harder than you can imagine."

Yerin draws in a sharp breath somewhere behind you. She's probably planning on being around whenever that happens. You can't help but look forward to it, though it sounds like twenty-four hours of torture for you until then.

The lovely ladies zip out of the room before you can get in another word, leaving you to the inevitable humiliation SinB will have for you... in an hour or two.

THE END

[extremelyblackandwhite]

innocence - 26

PAIRING: bodyguard!bucky barnes x innocent actress!reader

WARNINGS: none

A/N: no smut this time, just bucky meeting the family

NEXT CHAPTER

Her mother pulled Bucky into the house. She lived exactly where he’d expect her to live in, a dark academia sort of environment in shades of green, burgundy and dark browns. The walls were filled with shelves containing seas and seas of books and little memorabilia. There were photos of the family on the walls and Bucky noticed the little one right by the staircase of a young girl in a periwinkle dress sat on the beach with a bright smile whom he was absolutely certain was his Y/N. The woman continued to lead them until what he guessed was the living room where the fireplace was on and two kids were running around.

Bucky stood behind with Y/N as her mother made haste towards the drinks’ trolley where Y/N was almost sure the same watered down bottle her brother Anthony had constantly stolen from as a teenager still stood. They were lucky enough not to still have been noticed, her family having an weirdly tradition of not allowing anyone in the living area until they had a drink in hand. Of course she knew why, her family made so many questions both appropriate and inappropriate you’d have to be positively inebriated to deal with it. 

     - Everyone... - Lucy, Y/N’s mother, handed Bucky a burgundy coloured liquid before pulling him inside the living room. - Don’t be shy, Bucky. Everyone, this is Bucky, he’s Y/N’s boyfriend. 

     - I thought he’d be smaller. - a man got up from the dark burgundy couch, walking up to Bucky with an extended hand towards him. Bucky looked at his hand then at his own, before switching to shake it with his flesh arm rather than the metal aberration he’d covered with a glove. - Had a nice flight? Little bean here said she booked first flight tickets even though I told her it’s ...

    - A waste of money, I know dad. - Y/N interrupted. 

    - It was nicer than I expected, sir. - Bucky said yet Y/N could see that little smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. - Your daughter made it all the better.

    - Hope she didn’t bother you with leitmotifs. - another man who looked just around Y/N’s age piped up.

     - Colin, don’t even say that word, it might get her started. - a girl, blonde hair dressed in a baby blue dress added. - Oh wow, you’re athletic.

     - C’mon El, you promised to help me tease Y/N about her first serious boyfriend. - Colin wrapped his arms around Y/N but she merely playfully slapped his chest. - Look at you, the last Y/L/N sibling to introduce someone to the family. We were gonna buy you a cake but mum said no.

    - Colin Y/L/N, leave your sister be. - Lucy slapped her son’s head. - We are very happy that Y/N and Bucky are here. 

   - She’s happy there’s a chance you might give her grandchildren. - Colin whispered before adopting that grin that as children made Y/N want to throw a pillow at him.

   - Colin, I said to leave your sister be. - Lucy wrapped her arms around her eldest daughter. - That is not the reason I’m happy you’re dating. Me and your father were just afraid that you would be a bit lonely in New York.

   - Because you have no friends. - Eloise added.

   - Eloise, leave your sister be. She has plenty of friends. - their father added, not moving from his chair where he had returned to read the paper. 

   - Where is your sister? She should be here to meet Bucky.

   - Claire is busy with her husband convincing my husband to get me to have a rat-like creature they call a baby. - Eloise sat down on the other couch, legs crossed over each other. - Do you want a baby, Bucky?

   - Eloise! - Y/N yelled out of shame. Now she understood why her mother looked so dead whenever she had to go shopping with 4 children at 10 AM. She was clearly wrong to think her siblings would act like regular human beings in front of a guest, they barely acted like regular human beings on a regular basis. - We should go put the bags in my bedroom.

   - No, wait, beanie. CLAIRE! CLAIRE COME SAY HI TO YOUR SISTER AND BUCKY! - Y/N’s mother rushed to the kitchen, yelling out whom he guessed was the name of Y/N’s last sibling. Out of the kitchen and into the living room came a girl dressed in the same dress as Eloise except it was purple, holding a bundle of blankets against her chest. 

  - Aw, let me hold Sophie. - Y/N dropped her bags to meet her sister who handled her the baby. Bucky inspected the scene, watching as her embarrassed facade quickly changed into one of wonder as she looked at her niece. - Look at you, you’re so cute, Miss Sophie, yes you are. 

  - Claire, say hi to Bucky.

  - Why is he so tall? - she shook his hand. - I thought you’d be smaller with that nickname.

Is this was Steve felt like after the serum? Bucky had never stopped to consider that maybe his nickname sounded like a name you’d give a short guy, to be honest, he doesn’t even remember how it came to be, he just remembered his mum calling it and it sticking. However, he did have to admit that he enjoyed seeing everyone’s confused look once they met him as if he was the tallest man alive when he was barely taller than Y/N’s brother. 

    - Conor, Jack come meet Bucky too. - Y/N’s mum held two men by the arm who looked as lost in the family reunion as Bucky did. - Conor’s Eloise’s husband and Jack’s Claire’s. 

    - Okay. - Y/N interrupted before anyone else told her boyfriend he was too tall. Handing Sophie back to her sister, she held Bucky’s hand. - We are going to put the bags upstairs and take the coats off and we’ll return. 

Y/N knew her family way too well. She had been here when Claire brought Jack home for the first time and her father questioned him about a notorious case followed by Colin asking him if he needed earbuds for Claire’s snoring. She had also been there when Conor and all of Colin’s girlfriends so she knew when it was time to run away with Bucky from her very devoted and very curious family who had already decided to have the baby conversation with him before she had even mention it.

Bucky looked at the photos that were scattered on the staircases’ wall. He could always pinpoint where Y/N was, normally in the front with those beautiful, shining eyes. He noticed one particular photo of Y/N alone against a dark blue background in her graduation gown holding her diploma, posing like a beauty queen. He made a note to sneak a photo of it once she wasn’t looking.

She led him into her bedroom. It was a rather small one in tones of white and beige with a double bed. The walls were clean rather than one with a bookcase of dark wood filled with books, trophies and little frames of photos of her as a kid. Her bed had a small white lamb laying on it with some heart shaped pillows and a knitted beige blanket. 

     - Is that you? - Bucky rushed to the shelf to grab a photo of Y/N as a toddler dressed as a ballerina holding a golden medal.

    - Yeah. My grandmother was a prima ballerina so she made all of us do ballet which came quite in handy when I was in Phantom. - she put her coat on the hook on the door. - Sorry about my mum, and my dad and my siblings. I should already apologise for their husbands and the toddlers you haven’t met yet since they’re out with Grandma Louis who I’m also sorry for. 

     - That’s fine. I think they don’t hate me much.

    - It’s better than when Colin introduced Kate, mum was so upset she didn’t speak to her. I would say they love you. 

     - So which one is the oldest? Is there an hierarchy I should know about?

     - I’m the oldest then Colin, Claire and finally Eloise. Eloise got married first and then Claire and Colin is living la vie boheme. 

     - And you? - he wrapped his arms around her waist

    - I’m the actress. Once Aunt Petunia or Grandma Louis gets here you’ll listen to the “the debate team champion becomes an actress kissing all those men and she’s still single” discussion. I also apologise for that in advance. 

    - Well but you are not single anymore. - Bucky leaned down to kiss her. - And I will allow you to parade me as your boyfriend. It’s a sacrifice I’m willing to make. 

    - Ah yes, my three time three-time boxing champion boyfriend. 

    - You’re not gonna drop that, aren’t you?

    - What? It’s very alluring, gets me going.

    - Is that why you gave me an handjob at the airport, princess? - he leaned down to whisper against her ear. She felt goosebumps raise up her skin, mouth drying up as she tried to find the words. - You better have thick walls, princess. 

   - Beanie ... - her mother knocked on the door, pushing the door slightly open and sticking her head in. - We were wondering if Bucky ate meat. We bought this meat that’s not really meat and it’s vegan. I asked some of my colleagues at work to help me cook it and we made some but we can make more if Bucky wants some.

    - No, Mrs. I’m okay with anything, it’s fine. 

    - Non sense. Y/N tell Bucky he can pick what to eat. You’re American right? I’m making some chicken nuggets for the kids and Colin, I could make you some if you’d like. 

    - Mum, that’s stereotypical. 

   - Nonsense, beanie. What do you want to eat, Bucky?

   - I’ll eat whatever Y/N does, m’am. - he tried to hide the little grin as Y/N stood by his side still processing what Bucky had just said to her. - It’s fine, m’am, really. I don’t want to be a bother, I’m so grateful you and your family are okay with having me for Christmas. 

Lucy merely smiled at him as a way of saying it was no problem. Y/N knew her family, they adored to embarrass their children in front of their partners, lovers, and friends but they would adore whoever their children adored as if they belonged to the family since the dawning of time. The actress rose her head to look at her boyfriend, staring at the door like a fading vision on the desert, relaxed muscles and expression. Her hold on his hand strengthened as her head laid against his shoulder, laying a small kiss on the fabric of his shirt.

     - Do you want to go downstairs? We can stay here for a few minutes before dinner. 

     - Yeah, princess. - he snapped himself out of his state, smiling down at his caring girlfriend before following her down the stairs.

Her family had a lot of photos, some on big frames on the wall and other small ones in coffee tables and other surfaces. He couldn’t help but look at them, watching Y/N through the ages and wondering how she was. She always had that look, that inner shyness and bright eyed appearance. Most photos were school photos with that dark blue background followed by a few backstage photos of her in elaborate stage makeup and costumes. Bucky wanted a photo of her, any photo of her, to have in his wallet. Not that he would forget what she looked like, he could never forget it but he wanted to. He wanted to look at her face whenever he paid for his coffee, show people when they asked about her, he guessed he wanted to have the same pride in showing his girlfriend his father had about showing his mother. He wanted a suburban existence, no more Winter Soldier, no more Avengers, just James Barnes. Yet, he also knew he did not deserve that. No, he had taken that structure from so many people he didn’t deserve it. 

Once in the living room, there were more people, notably two kids running around the Christmas tree and two women sat by the beautifully placed table. He felt shy, not knowing exactly what to say, barely knowing these people. 

    - Ah, let me look at you. - one of the woman from the table got up and walked towards them. Bucky thought none of it, thinking it to be directed towards Y/N until the woman took him by surprise by cupping his face. - You’re just gorgeous. Nice eyes, strong features. 

     - Aunt Petunia! - Y/N took her aunt’s hands away from Bucky’s face. - Please. 

     - You know what they say about men with strong features, great lovers, great breeders.

     - Oh my god. - that’s it, she was no longer going to have a boyfriend once she got back to New York. - Bucky, this is my aunt Petunia. 

     - Nice to meet you m’am. - Bucky extended his hand to her but the woman merely pushed him towards the table.

     - I thought she was kidding when she said she was bringing someone home yet here you are. - she led both of them to side by side seats on the table. - So, Bucky have you meet Grandma Louis?

    - I’m afraid not. 

    - Look ma, Y/N brought a boyfriend home. 

   - Can we please not treat this like a world limited event?

   - Nope. - Colin sat next to Y/N. - I had a bet with Eloise you’d date a 50 year old librarian and I lost which is unfair because 100 year old soldier is almost the same. 

   - It’s not and you know it. - Eloise argued from the other side of the table. - How’s the movie, Y/N? 

   - It’s ... good. - she forced a smile, not wanting to show the same family who always wondered why unlike every of her siblings she, the debate captain and champion, had turned down the option to do Law and instead pursued an acting career. Did acting made her happy? Yes. Did the movie made her happy? No. 

   - She’s the best actress I have ever met and seen. - Bucky drew invisible circles over her palm. - Everyone’s always speechless during her takes. 

   - That’s my beanie, always the best at whatever she does. - Y/N’s father added. - Besides, one of us has to not be a lawyer. We’re starting to be known as the lawyer family. 

   - So Bucky, are you enjoying London? Have you ever been? - Claire asked while putting the bibs on her two toddlers who were still happily playing with toy cars on the table.

   - Long time ago, it’s a bit different now. 

   - Y/N should take you to see the tree in Trafalgar, it’s absolutely stunning. - Lucy added. - It’s where her father purposed. 

   - It’s where everyone purposed in this family. We need a new tradition. - Colin rolled his eyes. 

   - If it were up to you, you’d purpose in a McDonalds after coming from the pub. 

   - Shut up, Eloise. 

Bucky merely kept to himself during the dinner, replying to the questions that were thrown his way and laughing at the jokes. There was the odd questions every once and then which Y/N would normally reply to followed by telling him she was sorry which he found adorable. Normally it was him who was defensive over her, too defensive even and to see her take on the role warmed his heart. The dinner ran smoothly and soon everyone was sat on the couch by the fireplace. She was by his side, head on his shoulder as a It’s a Wonderful Life played on the television. 

The night kept going in and in until everyone decided to climb up to their respective bedrooms. Y/N turned on the heating the moment she came in, stripping onto her own cozy red pyjamas while Bucky kept inspecting her room. She had a bunch of books and programs from various West End musicals as well as a few bits of Star Wars memorabilia scattered on the shelves and a Phantom of the Opera music box on her desk. What caught his attention was the tiny miniature of a white picked fence house on her bedside table. Had she been an avid miniature collector and he didn’t know about it?

    - Hey, what’s this? - he pointed at the little house.

    - Oh ... that.

    - Is it a sore topic? I’m sorry princess, I didn’t mean to ...

    - It’s okay, Bucky. - she smiled. - It’s just a silly thing from when I was a kid. I told my mum I wanted to marry Luke Skywalker and move into a white picket fence home and she bought me it. Then I just wanted the house as I grew up but hey I live in SoHo, the best I can do is get another one of those

   - You want a white picket fence house?

   - It’s silly. - she hide her head as a familiar heat climbed up to her cheeks. Bucky placed the miniature back where it was, walking up to her. 

   - It’s not silly. I like picket white fence houses too, princess.

   - You do?

   - Yeah. One of my cousins had one when I was a kid and I always envisioned one for myself. 

  - Did you? 

  - Yeah and then I met you and I thought screw the home, as long as I get to come home everyday to you we could be living in a cardboard home but if you want a white picked fence house than I’ll give you one.

  - Buck ...

  - I’m not kidding. - he smiled at her. - We’ll live wherever you’d like and every single day we’ll come back home to each other and I will pretend I’m not tired so I can stay up and look at you smiling at those TV show reruns you like so much.

  - You like them too. - she added. 

  - Maybe but until then ... - he walked up to his bag removing an worn out big navy blue box. - You can have this. 

taglist: @disasterbii​​ @lookiamtrying​​ @buckysteveloki-me​​ @americasass81​​ @jamesbarnesappreciationclub​​ @lostinthebeans​​ @mariahthelioness29​​ @buckyandsebastian​​ @peaches-roses-sins​​ @theadorasabditory​​ @sipsteacasually​​ @saiyanprincessswanie​​ @booktease21​​ @noiralei​​ @learisa​​ @everythingisoverratedbutgreat​​ @uglipotata72829​​ @naturalthrone22​​ @husherstan​​ @mandiiblanche​​ @vicmc624​​ @newyorkgoddess​​ @itsallyscorner​​ @chipilerendi​​ @emzd34​​ @writerwrites​​ @bluevxnus​​ @that-girl-named-alex​​ @captnrogers​​ @nsfwsebbie​​ @sarge-barnes-sir​​

[listentothelittlebird]

I was looking through some drafts and I found this - I think it’s my first attempt at writing Burning Iceberg. Here, Damian tagged along with Jason when he went off for training!

Word Count: 2942 words 

enjoy!

It’s Talia who sends him away.

“Training,” she says, but there is something in the way that she moves, the way that the base is silent and waiting with bated breath right up until they leave. 

Jason leaves alone. Talia watches him go, her posture too unnaturally relaxed for anything not to be amiss. 

He gets one day away from the base before he realises he has a tail.

“Damian?” 

The young boy scuffles out of the shadows with a haughty sniff. “Took you long enough to notice me, Todd,” he huffs. Given the boy’s night clothing - the one’s he wore to sleep - Jason guessed that he had just arrived.

“Why’re you here?” Jason asks, curious. Sure, he had talked to the kid, had trained with the kid, but why was he here?

Damian glanced at Jason, then glanced away. “You were going alone,” he declared stiffly, “I would think that you would prefer company.”

“Mother agreed, and sent me after you,” Damian added, not at all convincing. Talia would never allow Damian out of her sights, especially with the tension in the air back at the base. Something was definitely up, but Jason let it slide and gestured for Damian to come closer. “You hungry, kid? I’ve got enough food for both of us until the next village.”

He knows that Talia might come after him. There’s no way he would let Damian disappear, just like that. For the moment, however, Jason could care less.

He had never asked for a big brother, and he had never asked for a little brother, but he was definitely willing to risk his life for the eight-year-old beside him. 

-

“Where are we going?” Damian asks, quietly. They’re stowed away on a cargo ship headed for the South Pole.

“I want to find a bender,” Jason replies, “The North pole is more connected to the world, and there’s more people to worry about. I’d think that a bender would hide in the South, where there’s less people.”

Damian scrunched up his nose. “Your skills are not adequate to face a bender, Todd.”

Jason pauses, then snorts, “I’m not gonna fight the bender, D. I just want to… talk to them.”

Damian eyes him with a skeptical look, but otherwise says nothing.

-

They’re riding through a brutal storm when Damian loses his grip and tumbles towards the railing.

Jason follows, one hand gripping tightly onto the metal rail and the other holding onto Damian as he flailed. For once, the kid looked genuinely terrified.

A wave crashes into them, and pulls them over. 

-

Jason is surprised to wake up. He tried to gauge his surroundings, but nothing really added up. He was under a fur blanket, a fire crackling near him. Someone was shifting beside him.

“You’re awake,” the voice murmurs, “I thought you’d sleep longer, but it seems not.”

Jason, carefully pulled himself up, narrowing his eyes as he gazed around the igloo. It was sparse, but large enough to fit him, the new man, and-

“Dami,” Jason breathed, headless of the man’s presence as he jerked out of the furs and toward

 his brother’s still form. He pressed two fingers to the boy’s neck, and his heart only calmed when he could feel the steady thrumming for a full minute.

“You’re welcome,” came the dry remark. Right. Jason turned back to the man, assessing him silently. He wore a blue parka, and was currently wearing the hood low over his face. 

“The two of you washed ashore last night,” the man explained, without prompting, “Your friend was barely breathing, but he made it through. You were surprisingly fine once the threat of frostbite was removed.”

Jason glanced again at Damian. 

“Thank you,” Jason stated, before his voice hardened, “But can we trust you?”

The man sighed. “Figures that two kids running around in the Antarctic wouldn’t trust a stranger,” he mused to himself. His amused smile was the only thing that Jason could see, the fire and the shadows obscuring the rest. 

“We are a long distance from the nearest village, but I can take you there. I can send the two of you on your way the moment that your friend feels better.”

-

“You know that you’re safe here, right?” Jason stated quietly. Anuk had left them in the igloo and went hunting by himself. He claimed that he worked better alone.

Damian looked up from where he was curled up in a corner of the igloo, his back pressed tightly against the icy wall. He wrinkled his nose, but there was still apprehension in his eyes. Jason sighed.

“Look, if this guy meant bad, he’d have done something already,” Jason reasoned, spreading his hands along the icy ground. He was glad that his resistance to low temperatures had survived the pit, even if his bending had not.

“Your trust will get you killed,” Damian murmured. Jason winced, “Yeah, well, it kinda already did. But that’s besides the point,” Jason rushed to add, “Just- trust is dangerous, sure, but can you really live your life without trusting anyone?”

Damian was silent. Jason, taking a dive, spoke up, “Do you trust me?”

Damian jerked his head up, staring at him with wide eyes. Then, quietly, “Yes.”

Jason nodded, and pressed, “Talia? Ra’s?”

Damian hesitated. Jason moved on.

“Listen. I know you just wanted to tag along for my training, but we’ve been under the radar for at least a month.” They had arrived on a full moon, and that night was a full moon, again. 

“Even Talia would have to admit to Ra’s that she thought we were dead somewhere in the Antarctic. Firebenders hate the two poles - they won’t be sending a search party for us, much less coming to find us themselves. You don’t have to go back to them.”

This time, Damian glared. “Where else would I go, Todd?” he spat, and Jason realised that the kid had already thought of this, had already considered this, “Where else am I supposed to go, if I do not return to my home?”

Jason pursed his lips, and despite the green raging inside him…

“Bruce would take you in,” Jason admitted, shoving the green away, “I can’t say the same for myself, not when I’m done with him, but… you. You’re his kid. He’d definitely take you in.”

Jason grinned, “He’d love you. Hell, he already took in the Replacement, what’s one more?”

Damian shifted. “Why won’t he take you in?” he questioned.

Jason stilled. “It’s not-” Jason started and stopped, and shook his head. The Joker was still alive. He had adopted a new kid. He wasn’t needed, hell, he wasn’t wanted. He really had just been a charity case. He breathed, trying to push the green down.

“It’s complicated. I don’t know if I can forgive Bruce, and I don’t know if I can stare at him without wanting to put a knife to his neck.”

That was what scared him the most. That he would lose control. He hated Bruce right now, hated him for what he had done, what he had not done, but his nightmare was his vision going green and fading to a Batman bleeding out from a knife in his grip.

Damian looked confused, so Jason tried to explain. “Bruce is… not a perfect man,” Jason sighed, “But he’s all Gotham has. And the Robins - what he does for them, that’s good. Even if-” Even if it gave him false hope for a rescue that never came. He swallowed that down.

“For all of his faults, he did give me some of the best memories.” Not that he remembered many of them. The pit took that away, too. “I hate him, but I loved him, too.”

-

“You’re ready.”

Jason raised an eyebrow at Anuk. “Ready for?”

“The full moon,” Anuk explained, not really explaining at all. He pointed towards the sky. “Tonight should be a full moon. We’ll set out onto the ocean at midnight, and you can perform the traditional water-bending stances for Tui and La. If nothing else, it is a tradition that I practice, and as my student, I want you to practice it as well.”

Jason sighed, but went along with it. He still had no bending - sometimes he thought that the water would move just so, but most of the time, there was nothing. He diligently learnt all of the water-bending moves, but Anuk was probably lying when he said that he was “ready”. How do you tell if someone knows their stuff if they don’t even bend?

-

The night was quiet. Serene, silent in the way that Gotham never was. The League had been silent, too, but not in this way. There was tension in the air, in League bases, sounds controlled and quenched before they could travel. Here, there were only expanses of snow and ice to echo back each scrunch of their boots.

Anuk bended a gondola made of ice, and Jason hopped on, not willing to show his own hesitation. Anuk waved his arms and the gondola moved out onto the calm Antarctic sea.

“According to my Gramps, we used to have big ceremonies on full moons,” Anuk started conversationally, filling the cold silence with soft murmurs. Jason realised belatedly that they should have brought a lamp, or at least a torchlight, but it seemed like Anuk knew where he was going, even in the dim moonlight.

“I live in the South pole, but my Gramps hailed from the North. He says that the late princess Yue gave her life to keep the moon spirit, Tui, alive. The Northern water-benders would present their bending on full moons to pay homage to Yue and her sacrifice.”

The gondola slowed to a stop, and they were left bobbing softly on near-silent waves. Anuk stretched his arms out and pulled, and a square platform of ice froze before them. Anuk stepped back and looked towards Jason expectantly.

Jason had grown used to the icy tundra, enough so that he did not immediately slip off the icy block when he hopped out of the gondola. He took his place at the centre of the ice block, glanced up at the moon, and started to run through his bending forms.

Nothing happened at first. Jason felt kind of stupid, actually, bending without bending at all. He nearly slipped a few times, but he managed to keep his balance, and powered through the basic forms into the more advanced attacks.

Then, something shifted.

“Jason,” the wind whispered, and Jason stumbled. His foot slipped, and he ended up on all four as the ice block rocked, waves pushing over the sides and washing over his hands and knees. The voice sounded like Bruce.

“I’m so sorry, Jason,” came again, and it really did sound like Bruce. Jason blinked into the moonlit ice and nearly gasped. 

It was a bird’s-eye view of the Batcave. He would know that cavern anywhere. Batman was stooped down beside a glass casing, positioned at the centre of the cave.

The vision zoomed in. The casing had a blood-stained Robin uniform, burned and tattered, way too destroyed to be repairable. Jason realised it was his suit. The one he had died in. 

“I’m sorry I couldn’t save you,” Bruce was saying, and Jason could only watch as Bruce absolutely bawled his eyes out in front of the casing, still wearing his batsuit, only having pulled the cowl down.

Just when the sobs died down, Jason heard, “I left Joker in the helicopter. I knew it was going to crash, but I- I thought he didn’t deserve to live,” Bruce admitted quietly. Jason’s breath hitched.

“He survived. Of course he did. If I keep going after him, he’ll just keep surviving, and… I have to stop, before I can’t. Before I lose myself in a world that took you. I’m sorry,” he choked out, and the tears continued to flow.

The scene changed.

“Why?” Dick’s voice screamed, raw and so full of emotion that it jarred Jason to the bones. “Why did you let him live?”

“We can’t be the dictators of who lives and who dies,” Bruce started, but Dick cut him off. “This is the Joker we’re talking about, B!” Dick yelled, somehow louder than the previous shout, “Joker doesn’t care who lives and who dies! He definitely didn’t care when he-” Dick cut himself off with a sharp exhale.

Bruce waited as Dick took measured breaths. “I just don’t get it,” Dick whispered, “A man like him? B, why did you save him?”

Silence. 

“We fight for justice,” Bruce rumbled, steadfast and sure compared to the crying mess in the last vision. Confident, like he had worked through his thoughts and come to a conclusion. “We can’t just kill people as we see fit. Not even if we hold a personal grudge. Not even if we want revenge for our own.” 

They both glanced towards the casing.

“I still want to kill him,” Dick stated bluntly. Jason thought Bruce would reaffirm his rules, that he would cook up a convincing argument and strike down Dick’s motives.

Instead, Bruce only answered with, “Sit on it for a few days. Don’t make an impulsive decision you’ll regret.”

Dick sighed harshly, and left the viewing range of the vision. Bruce turned back to the casing.

“I never got to apologise to you,” Bruce murmured, “For accusing you of pushing Garzonasa.”

“I was worried for you. Nobody should have to live with the guilt of taking someone’s life. I’m sorry if I came off as distrustful. I should have done more. Been better.”

One last scene. A young kid, black hair and blue eyes, looking up at the casing, fiddling with a new Robin suit that Jason had only seen through grainy newspaper prints.

“You were my hero,” the boy said, and checked his empty surroundings before he continued, “You were… awesome. You had so much energy and spunk, and-” he huffed, a small smile on his face, “-much more fire than me. Which is ironic, to say the least.”

Jason watched as the kid produced a photo from his gauntlet. It was a photo of Jason and Nightwing, on the rooftops, laughing and joking around. 

“I always wanted to be your friend,” he admitted, “I never wanted to replace you. I just knew that Batman needed a partner, and I guess nobody else was gonna do it, so. Here I am.”

The photo slipped back under his cape. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to be like you, but I’m trying. I… I know I shouldn’t miss you, because technically I never knew you, but. I do.”

Timothy Drake looked up at the suit for a long minute, before turning and pressing his domino mask across his eyes. “I’ll do my best to make you proud,” he whispered to the air.

The vision disappeared with the pull of the tide. Jason was suddenly aware of the ice block he was still on, as it tipped against the slightly-larger wave. A combination of water and ice made him slide right off the block’s edge. 

Anuk’s yell was drowned out by the freezing water rushing to meet him. It was the very opposite of being dipped into the Lazarus pit. The water was a dark blue, and he could still see the moonlight piercing through the water’s surface. The light bent above him, and he blinked, because it almost looked like a face. A young woman, with long white hair flowing around her serene smile.

The light pulsed, and suddenly he could feel the water around him, moving and flowing, pulsating with its own energy. He could feel the water turning and churning around Anuk’s gondola as he steered towards him. He spread out his arms and pushed-

-and shot out of the water, landing with a slight stumble back on Anuk’s gondola. The boat rocked slightly, but Jason smoothed his palms downwards and the rippling waves ceased.

 “Tui and La,” Anuk cursed to himself, “You were under there for quite a- oh.”

Jason tilted his head. “Oh?” he prompted, still reeling from how alive he felt. He was surrounded by his element, and he almost wanted to dive back under just to soak in his renewed bending.

Anuk produced an ice mirror, angling it to catch the moonlight. It was hard to make out, but there was definitely a patch of hair that was no longer black, dangling right in front of his eyes.

His eyes were blue, like the colour he was born with.

“Yue’s blessing,” Anuk breathed. “What?” Jason questioned, looking up from where he was scrutinising his new hairstyle. Anuk had his head tilted reverently towards the moon.

“Princess Yue lived because Tui gave her life,” Anuk recounted, “Her hair was a stark white because of this. When Tui’s mortal form was killed, Yue gave back her lifeforce to revive Tui.” Anuk chuckled, “It’s why most people from the poles don’t bother dyeing their hair.”

Jason himself eyed the moon contemplatively. He closed his eyes, and realised with a start that the green was gone. The pit’s effects - the murderous rage, the unnaturally-green eyes, the blockage of his bending - they were gone.

Anuk had taught him a traditional bow used to start and end water-bending fights, a sign of respect for the opponent. Jason bowed towards the moon, and hoped he was doing it right.

“Thank you,” he breathed quietly, “Yue, Tui, whatever you prefer to be called. Thank you.”

The moon shone on the ocean, and he swore he could see Yue’s face once more, smiling.

[saphirered]

Something to tug at the heartstrings: How about a sequel to Ghost, wherein the reader loses Lucien a second time but, eventually, finally, finds happily ever after with Kingsley? A sorta soulmate AU, where the reader is just meant to be with this soul. Thank you! 💜

Okay, this one turned out a loooooot longer than I intended but I'm happy with the way it turned out. Definitely something to pull on your heartstrings with a good amount of angst and fluff. Hope you enjoy and thank you for requesting! 😘

-

You knew it was over, the end had come when even across the worlds you felt like a final thread within you had snapped yet you felt nothing, just empty. You knew that moment would come at one point and while you hoped things could have been different… No, things could never have ended differently. Even then, you already knew there was a madness, greed and hunger for power within Lucien he could never escape. Never would it be enough. He’d stop at nothing and would sacrifice everything if that meant he’d achieve his goals. He was willing to do it before, he had done so before and would do it again a thousand times over.

Lucien had been angry, upset, trying to convince you this is not where it had to end between you two. That you could follow him along this path, forever, no longer bound by a fate not your own, a life in the hands of another. You could truly have been free. You could have been like gods among the ants left at the mercy of the whims of circumstance. That’s what he promised you. He promised you greatness, the world, a future of your own making, power, riches, you could have named your price and he’d offered it to you. Lucien had told you no price would be too steep for him but you had found one.

You’d asked him, once faced with the choice, would he choose you or would he risk it all in the pursuit of this damned purpose of his? Lucien didn’t have an immediate answer. Those moments of silence before his honeyed words were enough for you to know the real answer and deflecting, dancing around the truth like he had, all of it was just a dead give away. Nevertheless he tried to keep you at his side because if you know one thing, Lucien is a selfish man and he’d do anything and everything in his power to keep you at his side unless you’d leave of your own volition.

Lavish gifts, romantic gestures, luxuries he’d bestow upon no other, no expense was too great, no time wasted and no love spared. Lucien really went all out to show you just how much you mean to him, how much he needs you, needs you at his side. But nothing could make up for the fact that in the end he wasn’t sure wether he’d choose you or power when faced with the ultimatum. He knew that if he asked you, you’d give your life for him but he could not return the favour and his love knew boundaries set by his idealistic purpose. The more time you spent with him, the clearer that became.

When you became more reserved, coming to terms with this truth that did not mean you distanced yourself from Lucien. You still loved him and that wouldn’t change but like before, you refused to be part of his own demise. You’d not stand idly and watch as he went on a suicide mission with some perverted shadow of what was once living. You don’t know whether or not it was something Lucien had planned, if it was a spur of the moment, if he even was aware he was doing it or the Eyes of Nine reaching out to you but you’d seen the visions, you started waking up being faced with the horrors to a red eye marked on your skin, and another, and another.

And the more you were shown, the clearer it became. You could not be part of this. You’d not resign yourself to this fate and watch the others fall for the whims of one man and his own stupid greed, watch the man you loved fall to his own selfish hunger for power. You’d spare yourself the heartbreak of having your lover be torn away from you yet again. So you left. You did what you couldn’t do before; said your goodbyes and left. If this is truly what Lucien wanted then you would not stand in his way. You’d not be an obstacle but you’d also not be watching from the sidelines waiting for a side to win. You’d not interfere because after all this is the man you’d sacrifice the world for but you’d not stand by and watch him sacrifice you for his own visions. Should he find his way back to you you’d embrace him with open arms. Should he not, you’ll have departed on your own terms and made peace with that. You’d have said your goodbyes.

So when that final thread snapped, the eyes disappeared and a quietness hit you, like all sound had been pulled from the world but the wind and the waves you knew it was over. Lucien was dead and gone and Lucien would not be returning this time around. The world was spared and had gone back into tune. The Mighty Nein had returned and truly became the unsung heroes of Exandria. They did what you could never. They’d risked it all for the people they loved and they succeeded. And while your heart warmed at the thought of that love you also felt an emptiness, an emptiness you’d experienced once before when Lucien was first taken from you.

—————

Even now, that feeling of emptiness, a part of you missing still lingered. It’s as if when Lucien finally passed he took a part of you with him and your life would never be as it was before. You still wouldn’t change a thing. You had found purpose not only in your skills but a sense of belonging among the Revelry. Sure they were a rowdy bunch but something about Darktow and it’s people reminded you of the early days of the Tombtakers. Call it sentimental. But you made yourself useful, proved your usefulness, resourcefulness and connections across Wildemount and beyond to benefit you and ended up with a ship of your own, a respected Captain among Darktow with the favour of the Plank King himself. Though the latter is mainly to do with the copious amount of gold you’ve brought him. You and your crew alone have given the man a private fortune that must have made him richer than the kings of the mainland. Not that you cared. Gold did little to fill that void left in your heart. You had no use for it save for the upkeep of your ship, the payment of your crew and the copious amounts of booze and gambling you and your crew partook in simply because you could.

Life in Darktow and as a member of the Revelry is anything but uneventful but that’s exactly what you need to keep you on your toes. The day you resign yourself to a quiet and restful life is the day you die. You’d been in port for a week and a half and things have been going smoothly. Too smoothly in your opinion because if you know anything it is the gods like messing with your threads of fate a little too much. Perhaps your next voyage will be all storms, or you’ll get stranded somewhere? Maybe the Concord will be on the hunt for you again? A naval battle or a few could be fun? What will the gods throw at you next?

Maybe you shouldn’t have tempted the gods like so because the next thing you see is a tiefling of lavender skin, intricate tattoos all over, and a charming grin on his face attempt to barter with one of your deckhands for something. Your stomach drops, shivers running down your spine and conflicting emotions of joy and pain rush through you all at once. Your bosun shakes your shoulder after seeing you so shellshocked and checks in to see if you’re alright. You shake it off and take a minute to breathe studying the interaction with the tiefling.

Right from the get go you know it’s not Lucien. It couldn’t be and wouldn’t be. Yet it’s also not Mollymauk. However brief your knowing him may have been, you knew well enough this was also not the circus man you’d grown to admire. So who is this? Curious by nature and unrestrained, unbound by the knowledge you probably shouldn’t against all better judgement, you step over to the gangplank on the other end of which your deckhand and the tiefling are conversing. You stand there, crossed arms and just watch. Neither seem to notice you as of now but you’re sure they will if you stay long enough.

As Kingsley goes on, trying to convince this deckhand he just needs to speak to the captain for a brief moment because the Plank King has told him he is to deliver an urgent message, all lies of course, he catches the glimpse of someone that seems familiar to him in some way. He hasn’t ever encountered this person standing at the top of the gangplank before. This isn’t a face he’d forget. He’s never one to forget a pretty face and well, this one’s the prettiest of them all. Okay, he may have seen people as pretty before, so he’ll blame it on attraction then because the moment his eyes fall upon this figure the world just fades for an instant, the words of the deckhand falling on deaf ears but he’s good enough to not let it be noticed.

“You wish to see the captain? Well here I am.” Finally you make your way down the gangplank with a walk that expresses authority and grace but there’s something Kingsley can’t quite put his finger on. You turn to the deckhand.

“I’ll deal with this. Back to work.” The deckhand with a nod to you and not so much as a goodbye to him scurries up the gangplank and goes back to whatever task Kingsley had kept him from.

“My my, captain, I must say your ship is magnificent…” The tiefling tries to sweet talk but the expression you give him shows you’re not buying it. That doesn’t mean he’ll stop trying. He’ll just have to up his charm a little. Kingsley wants a ship and this is a great ship. He meant that part.

“Cut the crap and get to the point. I don’t have all day.” You give the man a wink for some reason feeling yourself slip into that back and forth game of wit and charm you’d had with Lucien. Gods be damned for pulling on those strings again, your heartstrings no less. And damn your own weakness for not being able to resist that charming grin of this man.

“Perhaps this is a conversation better had in private?” Kingsley, as promised picks it up a notch and walks up the gangplank like he already owned the ship but gestures for you to lead the way. Deciding to humour him and yourself you lead the way to your cabin, the door falling shut behind you two.

—————

The events that followed were the beginning of the end and the more time you spent with this man, this new version of the face you’d been so familiar with, the more you felt that emptiness begin to fade. At first Kingsley had tried to persuade you to go to the Plank King to give himself the opportunity to get the ship’s papers and convince the crew that you’d done something terrible and face judgement while he’d offer to vouch for the crew to be spared if they accepted him as captain. When that didn’t work he tried to coax you in sharing a drink with him, one he had spiked with a strong sedative so he could leave you at the docks and sail away. When that didn’t work he tried to sleep with you. Maybe a few days or weeks in your company wouldn’t be so bad. Have you seen you? He could spent hours just getting lost in your eyes.

But he didn’t manage to charm his way into your bed either. You’d caught him on all accounts, somehow figured out all his attempts and called them out exactly how he planned them. It’s like you could read his mind, or at the very least calculate his every move before he’d even done so. He isn’t anything if not persistent. He wanted your ship and he’d work for it. What he didn’t expect was the need to literally work for it when you offered him a job as a second mate since the last one had fallen to the jaws of a dragon turtle.

Over the weeks on your ship you’d eased him into fact that you had a very intimate relationship with Lucien and had met Mollymauk. You knew who he used to be, you knew his story up until a certain point. In turn Kingsley filled in the gaps, though even his knowledge felt more like second hand too. While you both tried keeping your distance when it came to the undeniable attraction between the two of you it was difficult. That pull remained, be it from your own memories of the past, the ghosts that still plagued you sometimes, or his phantom visions and feelings from a life he never lived himself.

You had to come to terms with it but the more you got to know Kingsley and the more he got to know you, why should you keep fighting something you both felt? Why put up walls, put in time and effort in something so… so stupid? So you had a good and honest talk. Set some boundaries and drew a line. You’d see where this would take you and won’t put any pressure or expectations on the other but you certainly wouldn’t spent a moment more trying to fight this stupid pull between the two of you. Those days were over.

The threads of fate could be a twisted thing but at times could be so in a humorous way. Kingsley had ended up with the ship he wanted after all. Not be leaving you stranded, poisoning or even killing you. Instead his secret message from the Plank King did come. Though his had been a lie when you first met, this one wasn’t. With the discourse on the high seas, the tensions between Xhorhas and the Empire on the low and the Concord’s opportunity to look towards the Revelry, you were needed as more than just a captain in a fleet. You’d be a commander instead and your captaincy would have to move to someone else so who else could you have handed it to? Both of you had been laughing like idiots when you finalised the deal and signed over the deed of the ship to Kingsley Tealeaf.

Despite this new promotion you’d still find yourself back on your old ship with Kingsley going on adventures of your own. He made a good captain save for the mornings he’d be preoccupied and slacking leaving his first mate to take over his duties. Coincidentally those were the days you’d spend on the ship and of course the captain could not let you sleep among the crew. No, you deserved a place more suitable of your station; the captain’s cabin. Part of that arrangement neglected to mention to the others was that the captain would be sharing his cabin with you.

So you’d wake up in each other’s arms like plenty of times before, fingers brushing through your hair, gently dancing over your shoulder and arm up and down as the light bleeds through the curtains signalling the afternoon’s approach. And as per usual with a groan, you’d shift and readjust yourself into a more comfortable position and allow your sleeping limbs to wake. A kiss would be pressed to your cheek, forehead, crown, shoulder, neck, wherever was most convenient pulling you from the final clutches of sleep and easing you into the day.

These moments would be spent embracing the quiet sounds of the waves rocking the ship gently and the shanties of the working crew, until one of you decided to break that silence.

“You are the most truthful and up front person I’ve come across in a long time.” Kingsley speaks as he presses a kiss to the top of your head as you wrap your arms a little tighter around him. You look up to him with an amused half smile, final hints of exhaustion still remaining on your features.

“I am a liar, a thief and a killer. I live a life of piracy and plague the seas.” You deadpan and earn a ‘you know what I mean’ look from the tiefling as you flick his chin. He catches your hand before you can do it again and instead kisses your knuckles, holding on tightly with an amused grin as you try to retaliate.

“And yet you stand out among the masses like a beacon. I could be faced with the promises of the world and my eye would still fall to you. I don’t pretend to understand why or how but it’s true.” Kingsley might have given the words a bit more flare but they’re true no less. He doesn’t understand why but the two of you, or whatever version of him, seem to be entwined wherever you go always bound to end up meeting over and over again like you can’t escape. It’s not like he minds because the two of you meeting back up in unpredictable spaces and situations has been rather enjoyable. Especially once you’d gotten a moment to yourselves.

“Are you trying to charm me, captain Tealeaf?” You tilt your head slightly giving him the same look you’d done when you first met; innocent disbelief.

“I don’t know. Is it working? Because if so, I will lie and say it’s intentional.” At this comment you sit up, pulling yourself free and leaning on your elbow to allow your lips to meet in a sweet but quickly heated kiss. There’s a knock at the door and you pull away making move to get out of bed but Kingsley holds you there. He’s got no intention of leaving this bed just yet and neither are you if he can persuade you to stay. Let the outside world stay that; outside.

“You’re a good man, Kingsley.” You stroke his cheek tracing along the peacock feathers crawling up his neck and jaw. Kingsley raises an eyebrow but when you see that half grin crawl up his face you know you might just have said the wrong thing. Not bad but more akin to provoking the devil.

“I am a liar, a thief and a killer. I live a life of piracy and plague the seas.” Your own words are turned against you and you scoff. The knocking on the door doesn’t go away and Kingsley rolls his eyes childishly clearly not wanting to be bothered by the whines and responsibilities of the day just yet.

“Yes. Yes. I head the first time.” He shouts annoyed with the interruption and the knocking stops but instead of making any move of getting up he pulls you into his lap. A surprised giggle escapes your lips as playful kisses are peppered all over your shoulders and neck.

“Did you have to deal with their constant antics or could they figuring things out themselves?” Kingsley asks between kisses.

“Always.” You pull yourself out of Kingsley’s grasp and get off the bed reaching for a shirt and pulling it over your head earning a groan of disappointment from the man. You shake your head in amusement.

“I suggest you get dressed before you have a mutiny on your hands for neglecting your crew, Captain Tealeaf.” You put on your pants and sit down on the edge of the bed to slip on your shoes, tying the laces as you go. You feel the tiefling slip up behind you arms wrapping around your waist.

“Is that an order, commander?” Kingsley whispers into your ear. You smile turning your head to face him, waiting to see who will lean in first and close the gap. The knocking on the door returns and you take this moment to gently flick Kingsley’s chin again as you slip from his grasp and step over towards the door. Kingsley grumbles a collective of rather colourful words making you grin.

“It is, captain. Back to work.”

[gallavictorious]

I’m wondering if Ian was thinking that Mickey had forgotten or was not that into celebrating the anniversary, because he thought that Mickey was still mad about the West Side move? Do you have any thoughts on what Ian might have been thinking when he was dropping his hints throughout the day and Mickey was brushing them off? (Especially the scene right before they went into the party)

Oooh, fun! Thanks a lot for this–I've been thinking about that scene on the sidewalk quite a bit so I'm very grateful for the chance to prattle on about it!

@dreamylyfe-x has written about how Ian was probably trying to suss out how Mickey wanted to play this–are they a couple who do anniversaries or are they not–and I think that's quite likely what's going on, and why Ian hasn't planned his own thing or prepared a gift or whatever. I can see him, in the weeks leading up to the big day, fishing a little, trying to see if Mickey will bite, looking for a hint about what would be appropriate for them to do to celebrate their first year as husbands. Only, no hints arrive; Mickey never bites; Mickey pretends to not notice Ian's increasingly transparent attempts at fishing.

One might reasonably wonder why Ian doesn't just ask what they're doing for their anniversary if that's something he's been thinking about. So, you wanna do something for our anniverssary? Would have been dead easy, right?

Thing is, I don't think Ian's actually bothered about what they'd end up doing; that isn't the point. I think that Ian wants their anniversary to mean something to Mickey. It's fine if Mickey doesn't want to do anything special, but Ian wants Mickey to remember and acknowledge that this is a special day for them, and he wants Mickey to do so of his own volition. He doesn't want to have to push it, he doesn't want Mickey to go along with whatever just because he wants to make Ian happy, he wants Mickey to care because it-–their commitment, their marriage, their wedding day–means something to him too. Ian's been pretty good at reassuring Mickey this season (and the last) but sometimes I think Ian might need a little reassurance, too? Just... for Mickey to volunteer that he knows their big day is coming up.

(By the by, your ask really made me realize that Mickey's out there secretly arranging this party while being actively upset over having to move and feeling all sorts of lost and unhappy and maybe throwing a few chairs. Once he got back from stealing the neighbors laundry, did he send Lip a text to check on the snack situation? Did he stop to remind Debbie to bring the decorations before leaving the Gallagher house in the morning after the incident with the annoyingly bright moon? Did he take a call from the accordion player to confirm that yes, At Last, that's what I fucking said, who cares if it's hard, what the fuck am I even paying you for before pulling up some cinnamon challenge videos on his phone? Like, that must have been so weird for Mickey, putting this whole thing together even as he questions whether Ian thinks he needs to change to fit in with Ian's visions of the good life.)

But yeah, Ian doesn't ask and maybe he actually loses track of the whole thing a little bit, what with the sudden move to the West Side and the falling out over that. Maybe he's quite genuine when wondering if it's the 20th or 21st, or maybe it's just the first of several attempts that day to jog Mickey's memory; either way Mickey shows no signs of knowing it's anything other than a regular maybe Thursday (it's a Wednesday) and... that probably hurts Ian's feeling a bit. It's fine if Mickey doesn't want to celebrate, but how can he–who broke up with Ian over him hesitating about getting married and who then spent so much time planning the goddamned wedding–not know that it's their fucking wedding day? It doesn't make any sense, does it? So... that must means he doesn't care, right? Or is he still pissed... ? To actually answer your question about what Ian's thinking, I'd argue that Ian quite simply isn't sure and he doesn't want to ask and that's why he keeps on dropping these hints, getting more and more annoyed with Mickey's seeming failure to connect the dots or make any sort of comment on it. (@damngcoffee has pondered if this might have influenced his initial insistence they take the crib in spite of Mickey saying no, and with that in mind I do wonder if it might not have pushed him to go off on the Trump supporter?)

In the end, Ian gives up on Mickey volunteering anything. He needs to know. “Do you seriously knot know what today is?” he asks, and I think it's interesting to note that once they've established that no, Mickey (a liar) doesn't know, Ian softens. “One year ago today,” he says, with that smile, a little shy but a little hopeful too. Soft, in love, happy to mark this occasion with Mickey. It's not great that Mickey didn't remember, but at least that means he didn't ignore it because he doesn't care, so... sure, they'll take it from here.

Except Mickey gives every impression of still not giving a damn and the ways I feel bad for Ian here are... I mean, I know it'll be all right in just a moment, but argh. My heart. (Surprise parties can be a bit of double-edged sword, really, if the surprise hinges on convincing the subject of celebration that they've been forgotten. Consider them carefully.) Also worthy of note is how Ian, even though he's justifiably hurt and disappointed and upset, doesn't start an argument or take off. He follows Mickey into the bar instead–and is of course immediately shocked and awed to the point of barely being able to speak.

As I've noted in the tags of a GIF-set of this scene, I believe that mixed with Ian's overwhelming astonishment and love for Mickey there's a slight and initial feeling along the lines of you asshole you set me up you just stood outside and pretended like you didn't care you're a bastard. Just, the way he looks at Mickey, shakes his head slightly, right before the I love this man? It's not unresonable for him to feel, fleetingly, that he's been made a fool of, if just a little and with the best of intentions? Ian's proud, y'all! (And probably also not at all comfortable being expected to make a speech–and one that somehow lives up to Mickey's gesture–while still reeling from the sudden turn the evening took.) But that feeling is really very fleeting, because not only did Mickey not forget, he went out of his way to make this day really special for them both. Planned the whole thing and even brought in family and friends, all for Ian. Once he recovers from the shock, Ian feels nothing but such intense joy and love and gratitude, and whatever disappointment he experienced earlier fades entirely in the face of that. ❤️

[five-rivers]

Interview With a Ghost

This is a sequel to Unearthed and Scarecrow/Grave Robber from my Ectober series.

A summary of those: When Danny became half ghost, he half died and left half a corpse. He, Sam, and Tucker went and buried it in a infrequently-traveled public park. The police found it during their annual picnic. A couple of detectives, Collins and Patterson, were assigned to the case, and they're trying to figure out what's going on. Danny keeps trying to convince them to stop. His corpse-related anxiety is making him do things of questionable wisdom. Ghosts do not like their remains disturbed.

.

.

.

Danny slipped into the police station invisibly, trailing after the two detectives. They seemed like nice people. Good people. Dedicated people. That last was a problem. He didn't want them to be dedicated. Not about this.

What he wanted was for his body to be put back in the ground and forgotten about. He wanted his mystery to go unsolved.

The problem was, how to convince these two, and the rest of the Amity Park Police Department while he was at it, that it was better for everyone if the mystery went unsolved?

It really would be. Between Vlad and the GIW... Danny's secret getting out would have nasty consequences. But he couldn't tell them about Vlad, and the consequences concerning the GIW weren't immediately obvious without knowing the solution to the mystery.

Maybe Sam was right. He should forgo this whole 'interview' nonsense, come back when he actually had a plan. As it was, he would just give them more clues he didn't want them to have.

But if he left them alone...

He listened to them making plans to interview his human self and other students at Casper High. They were going to interview him, anyway. He bit his lip. At least, he could distract them from that. Perhaps he could make out that he was older? Too old for the students at Casper now to have known him? No, that wouldn't work. They had his body. They'd be able to tell how long it was buried. Even he knew that.

"Does it feel cold in here to you?" asked the younger detective, Patterson.

The other tilted his head, frowning. "Maybe," he said. "Phantom?"

Well, he wasn't going to just appear out of thin air in the middle of this giant room full of desks. Over half the police in town had to be there.

Some of them must have noticed Detective Collins question, because there was a wave of whispering, and the room began to fall quiet.

Despite being invisible, Danny felt very exposed.

"If you're here," said Patterson, raising her hands, "we just want to talk. Will you talk with us?"

"It doesn't have to be here," said Collins. "We've got private rooms. We can talk there."

After a few tense seconds, Collins began to walk away.

They're right over here. Interview rooms. They're actually pretty nice, not what you usually see on TV."

With some reluctance, Danny followed. He could just leave.

But that wouldn't accomplish anything, except, perhaps, to make them more suspicious of him.

The room was indeed nicer than Danny had expected. The floor was carpeted. The walls and furniture were wood. There was a mirror, a one-way window, on one side of the room. Danny wondered if the purpose of the room was to lure interviewees into a false sense of comfort.

He blinked at the one-way glass a few times, adjusting his vision so he could see what lay beyond. As expected, it was rather crowded. It looked like a good number of the other detectives had squeezed into the booth.

"You realize," said Collins, out of the side of his mouth as he situated himself in a chair, "that if he isn't here we'll look like idiots, right?"

Danny sighed, heavily, and the detectives stiffened. He faded into invisibility. "You aren't idiots," he said. Then he remembered what he had come here for. "About this particular thing."

"Ah," said Patterson. "Well, thank you for coming and doing this interview."

"Yeah," said Danny, crossing his arms, "about that. I could do without the peanut gallery." He nodded towards the mirror.

"The-" Collins glared at the mirror. "Oh, for the love of god. Patterson, can you clear them out and get Captain Jones? He's the only one who should be here for this."

Patterson rolled her eyes but left the room.

"Well," said Collins. "While we're waiting for her to get back, let's make ourselves comfortable. You can sit down if you want."

"I'm fine," said Danny. He watched as Patterson started shooing people out of the room behind the glass and the captain walked in.

"Alright, that's okay. I'm not sure we've been formally introduced. I'm Detective Collins. My partner is Detective Patterson."

"I know," said Danny. "You're the homicide team. Well, this, me, it wasn't a homicide. Okay? So you don't need to do this."

Collins spread out his hands. "I'm not going to pressure you to talk about it," he said. "I gather that ghosts don't like that particular subject. But we have to investigate any suspicious death we come across. And yours? It's pretty suspicious."

"I'm telling you, it isn't. It's just dumb," said Danny.

Patterson came back into the room. "Hi," she said. "I'm Detective Patterson."

"Yeah," said Danny. "I know."

She leaned up against the wall next behind Collins. "So, what should we call you?"

Danny shrugged. "Phantom, I guess," he said. Was that an unsubtle attempt at finding out his real name? "Look, I know that you want to know who I am, and how I died and all that, but I'm not here to talk about that."

"Then what are you here to talk about?" asked Collins.

Danny closed his eyes briefly. "It would be dangerous if you knew those things. I want to talk you out of it. I'm sorry I left my body in a public placel. If you want me to do community service to make up for it, I will. But I'm not planning on pressing charges, and there's not anything else that would come of looking into it. Like I said, it was an accident, and not one that's going to happen again."

"Because you'll make sure of it?" asked Patterson.

"No," said Danny, annoyed, "because it was freak chance. One in a million, or even less. Most ghosts aren't sticking around to avenge their deaths." Revenge was a boring Obsession, Vlad's notwithstanding.

Okay, so maybe the portal accident wasn't quite as 'one and done' as Danny was claiming, but that was why he didn't want anyone to know about it.

"So, why is it dangerous to know about?" asked Collins.

Danny puffed his cheeks out. Why, indeed. "It's dangerous to me," he said, finally. "If you haven't noticed, I have more than a few enemies, and there is a reason ghosts don't like to talk about their deaths."

"So why don't you tell us?" asked Patterson. "We're not going to tell anybody."

"No, but you'd have to confirm it, and people would know," said Danny. In retrospect, this was a pretty good cover for why he didn't want his manner of death to be investigated, and he'd come up with it on the spot! Well, he always did do better under pressure.

But just as Danny started to pat himself on the back, Collins sighed. "Phantom. What happened to you wasn't 'just' an accident. Half of your body was missing."

Danny raised an eyebrow. "It looked pretty whole to me," he said. "All three times."

"According to our ME, it only weighed about half what it should have," said Collins, leaning forward.

Static filled Danny's brain. Half. Half the mass gone. Stop. He already knew- It was not time to panic.

"So?" asked Danny.

"There was also a lot of ectoplasm in the body," added Patterson.

"Well, this is Amity Park, and I am a ghost."

"More than it should have gotten just from you handling it."

"What, and you're suddenly an expert in ectology?" scoffed Danny. It was a good thing he didn't sweat in ghost form.

Patterson leaned forward, stepping away from the wall. "Were you killed by a ghost?"

Danny blinked. "No," he said. "That's stupid. Ghosts know better than anyone that someone dying doesn't necessarily mean they're gone." He rubbed his eyes. "This was a bad idea. You're not going to listen to me." He turned to go.

"Wait, Phantom," said Collins. "Just one more question, please."

Danny glowered from his position near the ceiling. He'd been just about to go through. "What?" he ground out.

"Is the reason you don't want anyone to know that you're dead because..." he paused, apparently searching for words, "because no one even knows you're missing? Because you're still trying to live your life? Because you're pretending to be alive?"

Danny's very alive heart hammered in his chest. "That's more than one question," he said.

He vanished.

[moonlitceleste]

straight up villain (Villain AU)

This is a songfic based on “Villain” by K/DA ft. Madison Beer and Kim Petras. There’s really no plot to it; I started with a vague idea and just went along with whatever my brain told me. It kinda jumps around and I didn’t proofread this at all, so sorry if it’s confusing!

I’d suggest listening to the song and watching the visualizer video because it’s honestly such a vibe. If I could animate I’d totally make a video full of epic fight scenes, but unfortunately I don’t have that talent learned yet.

This version of the song is a little more chill, so if you find the original too intense you can always listen to the slowed one instead.

On the low Only love myself, no more Take you to the grave, I'll ghost I know I can be so cold In the dark Where I like to keep my heart Know I'm all bite, no bark Like to catch you way off guard

A shiver ran down the crime boss’ spine.

His eyes darted around the room, searching through the darkness.

Shadows flickered. He swore he could see movement in them.

The night was crime’s time to rule; people feared the darkness it brought.

Now, he was the scared one.

I'll stay so deep inside your brain And take you somewhere far away

“Who’s there?”

A bead of sweat trickled down his forehead, revealing his false bravado.

Shaking hands gripped the gun around his waist, knuckles turning white with pressure.

Creeeakk.

The man whipped around, heart hammering in his chest.

Who—or what—was lurking in the shadows?

A snap echoed through the air as he fired a round.

Silence.

The only sound came from distant echoes of Gotham’s nightlife and the frantic beating in his throat.

He swore he had seen something sweep out in the corner of his vision, if only for a moment.

Perhaps it was the paranoia.

He slowly lowered his gun, shoulders relaxing—

Only to whip around when he felt a phantom hand brush his shoulder.

A pair of eyes flashed in the darkness, gone the next second, but he knew what he had seen, what he had felt.

Icy fear seized his body, taking hold of his limbs.

Something was watching him.

Time to roll the dice, you know I'm the type Type to risk my life, not afraid to die Type to make you cry, type to put a price All up on your head, do just what I said I'm a straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling Straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling

“Stop toying around.”

The gravelly voice was met with a cackle, almost cat-like in nature.

That was his only warning before it stepped from the shadows: a creature out of his nightmares, shrouded in darkness like part of the night itself.

Sharpened black claws glinted under the streetlights, and dark black orbs pinned him in place as it slunk forward. He couldn’t move, frozen like a deer in headlights.

The thing was so human-like in shape, but it was too monstrous to be one.

A wicked smile spread across its face, and his face blanched as he caught sight of the fangs protruding from the top.

The creature stalked forward like a predator chasing its prey.

Then, it pounced.

I'm alive, but I'm dead Hear my voice up in your head Watch it fill you full of drеad 'Til you go pow

It was common knowledge within Gotham’s criminal underworld that the Arkham Knight worked alone. He played by his own rules, merciless in his distribution of justice.

But lately, it was rumored that the Knight had an ally.

There was no proof of this, no sightings to go by, but there was a subtle shift that could be felt—an underlying sensation of imminent danger.

Gunfights and confrontations lessened, and the Knight’s enemies started disappearing without a trace. No blood, body, or evidence of struggle could be found; it was as if they had simply ceased to exist.

Whoever this new player was, they were dangerous.

Is it really a surprise if I'm playing with your mind And I treat you likе a prize, then I throw you to the side? And am I really that bad if l love to make you mad? And get happy when you're sad, only care about a bag

Jason shook out his hair, metal helmet in his hands, and leveled a glance at his companion.

“Did you really have to take so long to kill him?”

The two were in one of their few safe houses, recuperating after their long night of fighting.

“It’s the thrill of the chase.”

Marinette, no longer transformed, stated this as if it were obvious—which it was. Jason had been with her long enough to understand her concept of fun. She leaned forward and stretched, looking much like the animal after which her magic ring was themed.

“We can’t waste time playing around. There are more important things to be done,” he growled.

Marinette simply giggled, bounding over to bat her eyes at him with mock innocence.

Jason’s eyes narrowed. “You know what you’re doing.”

Her smile grew wicked, arms darting out to wrap around his waist.

“You look so good when you’re mad,” she purred.

Jason leaned down, and their lips met in a kiss.

In control That's how I like it and I'm never letting go, nah Never had a soul (soul) So you ain't taking nothing from me when you go, nah

Crack.

Marinette smirked as her staff made contact with the target’s skull.

Normally she would use Cataclysm for a more swift kill, but the remains were needed in order to send a message to Arkham Knight’s enemies.

They were growing more volatile, more desperate to expose whatever they thought she was.

Phantom Killer, they called her. The name sounded like something out of a badly-written horror movie. Marinette much preferred the one she had already: Reine de L'ombre.

Of course, she didn’t need a title, but Jason had come up with it. She was pleasantly surprised by his naming skills—it meant Shadow Queen, for she was a queen, and Jason her knight, as he put it.

She didn’t feel any remorse as the pile of bodies below her grew. Perhaps this made her soulless, but she didn’t need one anyway.

Marinette had all she wanted right beside her.

I'll stay so deep inside your brain And take you somewhere far away

“...you do what you gotta do, am I right?”

Marinette nodded at the man standing across from her, a smile on her red-painted lips.

He had been leering at her from across the bar the whole night, and although that was the goal, she was still disgusted. He had to be at least twenty years older than her. Heck, he was old enough to be her dad.

The intel she and Jason had acquired said the businessman had a thing for younger women, which was apparent. According to the same source, the company he ran was also a front for trafficking and drug rings.

Marinette wanted to see him bleed.

“How about we take this to my room?”

The comment was abrupt, and Jason would probably kill her for her indiscretion later, but she was getting tired of the man’s blabbering.

Her hand moved up his arm, the expensive material of his suit cool against her fingers. She bit her lips seductively, which seemed to convince him.

Bingo.

Time to roll the dice, you know I'm the type Type to risk my life, not afraid to die Type to make you cry, type to put a price All up on your head, do just what I said I'm a straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling (yeah, yeah) Straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling

Marinette gritted her teeth as the man tried to reach for her butt again. 

She attempted to stop him by saying she wanted to wait until they entered her room, but he was persistent. She couldn’t wait to get rid of him.

As soon as she opened the door to her hotel room, she shoved him inside and up against the wall. He seemed to be expecting a kiss, but she punched him hard. For a crime lord he certainly wasn’t a good fighter. Maybe it was the drugs she slipped into his drink earlier that contributed to his quick defeat.

Marinette cuffed his arms behind his back with a pair she had stashed earlier. She could have waited for the man to undress so she could ensure he didn’t have any weapons, but she had gone through enough torture already. Her eyes didn’t need to see that.

She turned him around, giving him a smile that promised warmth and kindness, before pulling out a dagger and pressing it to his throat.

“Now talk.”

I'm alive, but I'm dead Hear my voice up in your head Watch it fill you full of dread 'Til you go pow

“Claws in.”

Marinette’s black suit faded away, revealing her now blood-spattered red dress.

She flopped onto the couch, not bothering to remove her shoes or dirty clothing.

After hours of trying to get information out of the businessman, she only managed to wring a few coded phrases from him. He seemed to only be a figurehead of his shady organization rather than its actual leader.

A Cataclysm later and here she was, back to the drawing board.

“Jay?” Marinette called.

It was unusually quiet in the safe house; usually after solo missions they’d greet one another with a kiss. Now, he was nowhere to be seen.

“Jason?”

Silence.

Marinette huffed. She knew exactly what this was about.

Bang, bang You can do anything No fear, no pain Listen to your brain go Go stupid, go dumb, go stupid and Then we go insane, woah Just do what I say Follow me, I'll lead the way

“Are you jealous?”

Jason whipped his head around, caught off-guard by the appearance of his girlfriend in his doorway. It seemed as if she wasn’t wasting any time.

“I’m not jealous. That guy couldn’t get you if he tried.”

“Then why are you mad?”

His jaw clenched.

He wished he hadn’t agreed to let Marinette extract the information alone; Jason almost wished he was there to see the man in pain.

“He was putting his hands all over you.”

“It was for a mission. Besides, I thought you said he couldn’t get me even if he tried?”

Her last words were said with a lilt, and Jason knew she was riling him up. He couldn’t stay mad, anyway—she had a point.

He deflated and leaned forward to brush his lips against her. Marinette smiled into the kiss, then pulled away. She looked him up and down, a glint in her eyes.

“I guess I’ll have to make it up to you, hmm?”

She paused, then wrinkled her nose.

“After I take a shower. I don’t want this guy’s blood on me any longer.”

Maybe they acted stupid sometimes, but the two always followed one another in the end.

Time to roll the dice, you know I'm the type Type to risk my life, not afraid to die Type to make you cry, type to put a price (Woo-ah) All up on your head, do just what I said I'm a straight up villain, straight up villain Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling Straight up villain, straight up villain (Yeah) Yeah, no feeling, yeah, no feeling (Woo-ah!)

Marinette panted deeply, adrenaline coursing through her veins.

A mass of bodies surrounded her, but she wasn’t paying attention. This wasn’t just a battle. It was war.

It was a fight for her life, and she wasn’t going down now.

Reine de L'ombre tore through her enemies like a terrifying force of darkness, one after the other. The Arkham Knight fought by her side, fueled by pure destruction.

Maybe they wouldn’t make it out, but they wouldn’t go down without a fight.

I'm alive, but I'm dead Hear my voice up in your head Watch it fill you full of dread

'Til you go pow

A week later, a couple rose hand-in-hand from the ranks as new rulers of the Gotham Underworld.

Reine de L'ombre and the Arkham Knight—a queen and her king.

-

PERMANENT TAGLIST @avengerthewarrior @enternalempires @freesportspalacesalad @h1sss @nathleigh