#making a tag like that. dangerous. gives future me permission to do this more often.

[deesseshesca]

PAC: What vibes does your future relationship give off ? (18+)

Yankee Doddle went to town riding on pony.

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PILE 1

SONG : TAKE YOU DOWN - SZA

SORRY BABE BUT YOUR READING IS LONGER 😭

PILE 2 

SONG : BABY - REMA

6 swords (reverse), judgement (reverse) 8 wands, King pentacles (reverse) 

This is the friend of your older brother. He’s writing a paragraph as a text while he's drunk… which he will never send. He may engage in dangerous behavior because he's behind the wheel texting it but he's not driving … just sitting there. Like he took a moment away from the party to catch some fresh air.  

There's so much sexual frustration and tension in his body is incredible. 

There's a clicking of keys… which is important. Is like his pondering if he should leave or spend the night over like it was planned. I don't think he will actually drive … should he leave, he would tag along with other boys to an actual party. Is like your brother has a lot on his mind regarding another girl from uni … you will not know. You will just be shocked he came back from campus earlier. Even your mom, like her heart might stop. Lol she is so sure for a moment that your brother got kicked out, your brother may have problems accepting answering to more important people ever since he’s a child. Like he’s not annoying or rude, he may come like that but he actually has good reasons to act up. He may be a crash out, but it's always been justified. Lol the bffs are going through it with women … they both seem to deal with it the same way … running away. They may actually act like fucking twin brothers at times. 

What the actually fuck ? I though I actually dealt with my fucking heart. I aint even lie, this past years I try to take my fucking distance with you. I mean I am trying to stay alive and keep my balls. Do you know what would happen to me if your brother could read my brain ? Especially with the past I have, fuck what past … I am too emotionally available with females … he’s not wrong keeping me away from you . I mean … I may not be worth you but can your homeboy dream ? I did not know you have to ask permission to think ? Why do I have to ask permission to use my own brain while you take possession of my thoughts 24/7 like you are paying the bills in this bitch. Your brother told me, we were going to surprise you today. I know he’s was running away, I am always going to have bro back but fuck why do I have to fucked in the process ? You were in your bed, your long hair braided, legs hanging, wearing your short booty shorts, white tee dancing to some pop girl music (his snorting). Dancing like a maniac (explosion of laughter). The scream that came out of you is deserving of an Oscar but the way I had to keep my composure  when you jumped in my arms after hugging your bro was something. Fuck I miss having my hands around you, I miss caring for you, I miss your face, your scent and even your weird habits. Than you came downstair cooking something for me and the bros because your mom was caught up in a meeting and we can’t fucking cook to safe ourselves. Again I had to keep my composure, while your body was moving lazily to the music in your headphones. Keep my eyes on the game, keep my focus on the conversation, keep my attention on the character on the screen. When all I wanted to do was peeking at you. Than like you wanted to torture me … you put the plates a front of us with smile before running back upstairs to your bedroom. All I could think about for the rest of the evening, while drinking was do I claim a need to the bathroom so I can stare at you through the door … FUCK when did I become a such creep ? 

That man grew up in a house where spanking, physical abuse was the way to discipline. 

You often grow up, watching him with purple eyes, you thought maybe he had a temper he was hiding you because he's always calm whenever he deals with you, your family, fuck almost everybody, yet…

For some y’all actually know him since childhood and he always had bruises on him, so you never question it. When  you were younger you even though he had a purple birth scar. This shows the frequency and the normality of the assault he endured for your kid brain to normalize it. 

For some of you, that are fucking shock about that text … to confirm is him … go ask him about his family, childhood or parents, that will be your confirmation that's the pile for you. 

For the one too shocked to believe it, remember that energy is ever changing but if you keep up living the way you do, you will in fact finish your life with  the bff of your older brother. To unclaimed, change something … To claim … no need is already yours (I just saw someone giggling … LOL) 

This collective y’all are really shocked he will actually be interested in you because he treats you like a little sis… from my humble tarot reader opinion … he is too protective and soft for it not to be romance. The intensity in which he holds your gaze is too much to just be platonic 

I just heard : ‘’But nah girl…’’. BABE IF YOU DON'T WANT IT, CHOOSE SOMETHING ELSE. 

The card also shows that he is terrified to show care, empathy and love. You guys have no idea how stoic he is whenever he is interacting with his environment. The fact that he he check on you, the fact that you can call him when you need help (availability), the fact that he reply quickly (you don't how many people he leaves on deliver … ), the fact that he goes out of his way to always bring your fav snack, the fact that he always make sure nobody is annoying you at work, school or even calm your brother down when his become too smart with you . Or the FUCKING fact that he actually smile at (even though is fucking small), the fact that he don't mind hugging you. He's only that soft for you, there's not a single girl he fuck, been a relationship with or even flirt with in which he was this attentive and kind. 

He’s a lightweight when it comes to alcohol. 

VIBES: Crush, brother bff, secrecy, secret admire and one sided romance 

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PILE 3

SONG: JONI - SZA FT Don Toliver

POV is your past self and future self. Is like a small note. Maybe you guys use the note in your phone like a diary. 

The Chérie D’Amour coming from PILE 2, this is your POV from the situation in PILE 2. Also your brother doesn't know you are out there living an all year hot girl summer and have a whole roster. They only see you as your innocent self. Funny enough (my own  observation), now I understand how hard it is for you to believe what I wrote because you are the same. The dude plays mister nonchalant, while you play Miss Innocent. Both of you have a facade that does not exist with each other. Like you guys actually have an intimate bond with each other. You allow yourself to be soft with him and he allows himself to accept it.

PAST: 9swords, 9 wands (reverse) 

 You are on the bus. A week after a crazy night where u spend the night at your one night or maybe sneaky link. You just have an epiphany 

Honestly … I want more. Is it crazy to say. I want someone to hold me close while playing in my hair. I want someone to look at me like I am the star of their life, like maybe if they look away I may vanish. I want to be the banter of their existence. I want to be the reason for their every breath. I want to go on vacation with the one that loves me. The one that will spend hours, hours and his money just to see a smile on my face. Someone ready to die to hear me laugh. Someone who is just like Jack, will let me, Rose stay on the door  because he prefers a cold death than letting me feel the pain of Atlantic water. Someone will pick me up bridal style after I call him because I am too drunk with my homegirl and can't make my way home. I want someone to comfort me when the tears are rolling down  my cheeks, I want someone to drop anything when my voice has a subtle shake and I want someone to be my safe haven. I want someone who will enjoy spending time with me even when all we do is sit in silence in a quiet room. I want to slow dance in the living room while the dinner is cooking. (Bitter laugh) What the fuck for ? Even if the one came I will destroy it the same way I destroy the marriage of my parents. Maybe all I actually need is a break from having sex. I am tired of getting disappointed , I am tired of sexting, I am tired of the 2 am booty call, I am tired of being easy, I am tired of hair pulling, the spitting, the fucking, the aftercare, the uber, the walk of shame and the fucking hole that's keep growing deeper every time I come home to an empty house after giving my all to another looser because I can’t seem to attract he right one and I am too lonely to refuse anyone.

I am tired of feeling lonely . 

Future : Knight swords, Hermit 

I am hearing : ‘’ Omg he hears me ! Omg he knows my name’’ 

This one is a note but the intention behind it is almost like a prayer.

Please don't take him. Let him love me. Let him stay in my life. (Your eyes are burning with tears, none fell, you are holding on for dear life. You are sitting in your bedroom). I will do anything you ask. Don't let him resent. Let him love me forever. Don't let life take his warmth away from  me. I love every part of him, I love his tattoo, I love his grumpy attitude, I love the way he holds on to my hand. The way he always longs for some physical contact with me otherwise he loses his mind (bitter laugh, oh no… babe you broke … the tears are flowing slowly). I love the way he trust me with his Lego collection, with his car tools and on his bike. I love the way he let me in, my pretty boy, my very pretty boy, he don't deserve all that (Fuck … I finally got the vibe … he may have been in altercation or just an argument with his family which trigger him extremely which made him take its distance. Like you know he's in a dark place but he refuses to let you see him like that (aww now my heart is breaking … y’all going to make a cold ass bitch emotional, now he’s asking me if you are crying. He hates when you cry and it would put him in so much pain to know he is the reason for it). Usually he is transparent and you have amazing communication. That why you are ugly sobbing because it must be very bad, if he is taking his distance). He always comfort me when my periods hurt, when my mom say mean things to me, when school is too hard or life become to overwhelming. Even when I am trying to ignore him, he drop everything for me. I don't know what else to say … you must let him love me. Who else is going to look at me with so much love, caress me with so much passion, make love to me, worship my body with kisses, tell me how much he loves me and how hard is going to work so I never regret choosing him. 

Technically it's stop here …because you are sending him a voice note but since I love y’all let me add it here. I apologize because it might be too messy to read. 

Hiccup, hiccup, (his name), breathing trying to keep it in, breaking down in  tears, talking while having hiccups :  just so you know I love you. Please don't leave me behind, pretty boy. You remember what I told you … you ain't have to feel ashamed for what you did. Baby please come to me, we can work it all. Let me comfort you. 

Breakdown again:  Fuck I am stress. You better comeback (weak attempt to a bossy tone). Please (pleading tone). 

VIBES : Forbidden romance, one bed proximity, touch her and I will kill you, I want and see only her, I don't deserve her, she's too good for me, he's the only one that truly loves me and know me, we should not be doing this but can't seem to stay away from each other.

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PILE 4 

SONG : STAY - Adanna Duru FT Leven Kali

POV YOUR FS. 

I actually shuffled some cards but y’all nasty step dad came through. He's a fucking pervert Chérie d’Amour and I am so sorry you had to deal with this looser in your childhood. I am fucking sorry your mama did not protect you more. 

Your husband DONT PLAY WHEN  IT COMES TO YOU. 

Is a text after the first night spent together. 

Hey beautiful,

I know we just hang up and you probably sleeping rn. Fuck sure is 3 am in the morning but I cant get enough of you. I hate the fact that I can't dream because sleep is keeping me away from you. I want to spend every one of my seconds on earth dedicated to you. Texting you, calling you and hearing you. I am so obsessed with you girl … so you know we are lock in, lock in. There's nobody but us. I don't care if you're mad or tired of me, we are going to work this out. I see the bigger picture with you baby. That not the only picture I have of you… I love kissing you. When your lips lay on top of  mine, my eyes I can't help but close, pushing into a transit state of pure bliss. I love having sex with you, your moans are like  music to me. You have such a beautiful voice, I know I always compliment you about it. I guess you awakened a new kink in me babygirl.I  can recognize your voice, touch and scent in a room full of strangers because my soul knows you. My fav habits of yours when it comes to loving me … is the way you kiss my forehead, my eyes, my cheek and my lips in one setting just to make me smile. I love staring into your pretty face. That’s probably why I stare that much at my phone when u aint around. And she gets even prettier when I am thrusting in and out of your tight pussy. I love when you baby me, even though I am 6’4 (maybe taller) and 3x your weight. I love being the small spoon. I love being your good boy. I love finding safety in your arms. I aint joking girl … I am going nowhere. I LOVE IT HERE. 

VIBES: Commitment, marriage, long lasting romance, wedding day, husband and wife and growing old together 

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[lazaruspiss]

adding a cut bc hah. aha. im normal.

once upon a time i was talking in the DMs with a friend about betas in omegaverse sex trafficking/breeding rings (essentially being given to omegas as comfort objects) and i got a Very Specific mental image of a mutual noncon scenario, of a beta+omega+one to two alphas. my friend says "is this juicier if the beta wanted the omega. and now is bitter that some random alpha is fucking them better than the beta ever could. even when the omega is trying to beg for the beta. is that anything" and i knew in my heart of hearts i had to make this tim/dick. like the concept had me up the walls so fast.

THEN it got wayyyy longer. like several pages worth of DMs about a ra's/tim/dick plot. which is what im working on rn. current title is 'Nature's Order (As Told From Alpha To Beta)' which Will make sense i swear. i have an outline started and a few context-less lines already.

like i said my notes are literally pages and need to be whittled down but im gonna try and explain it without making an entire essay about a fic i havent even written yet.

SO. timmy. actually im just gonna copy paste this bit from my doc

I have something of a ‘main’ omegaverse AU in my mind, and in that one Tim unlearns his shitty thinking via dating Omega!Steph and having some eye opening heart to hearts. (and getting pegged also helped.) This fic is essentially one huge butterfly effect where Tim and Steph never meet and instead of Steph teaching him about omegas it’s… Ra’s. It goes about as well as you’d think it would.

But even before Ra's, Tim is a bit. hm. sexist in a way that people usually ignore bc he'll "grow out of it". and he's also just very quiet about it bc he sort of knows that it wouldn't go over well. it's important to me that at the start you can look at him and think that if he had just gotten a decent talking to then everything that happens after could have been avoided. bc u know. hurts more when you can look back and go this mightve been avoidable </3

Tim has a Dick obsession, who doesn't! but he has no clue how to approach it normally. Dick is, quite literally, the only omega Tim has hung out with on a regular basis. his parents were betas, bruce is an alpha, and this is pre young justice or a no young justice AU so his social circle is very limited. looking up advice for courting omegas just brings up alpha bro podcasts. (which tim dismisses not bc of the sexism, but bc hes not sure how it would transfer over if he tried it as a beta)

so tim sabotages Dick's medication for his heat and plans his confession for the time he thinks Dick's judgement will be the most impaired by omega hormones. as one does.

Ra's has Also been tracking Dick and his cycles as part of his whole heir thing. Probably because he and Talia got into a fight about her having a baby, or smth along those lines. So hes stealing the detective's omega son to use as a living incubator. as one does.

Ra's kidnaps the both of them, deciding to take Tim for the whole 'omega comfort object' bit i mentioned before.

over the course of the kidnapping it becomes clear that this is an omegaverse sexism kicked up to 11 type of environment. if Tim is a slave then Dick is toy. even narratively i wanna play into it, with perspectives switching from Dick to Tim as Dick loses more and more of his agency. Ra's very much exploits Tim's existing beliefs in order to fully convince him of the A>B>O hierarchy. Even when Ra's punishes Tim he does it in a way that still maintains that Tim is more deserving of basic respect than Dick. (or any other omega, but dick is kind of the main vessel for that)

Also Dick absolutely gets pregnant very early on into the kidnapping, in no small part due to Tim's past interference with his medication. whoops?

And I have way more written out. it gets even worse. it's so fun. it's also crazy long and i am so scared but i Do wanna write it!! just. augh. my doc for this story is already 6 pages total and its almost entirely just notes. anyways. sorry for the wall of text, heres one of the 3 lines i've actually written so far.

"Your alpha never did mate you, by the looks of it. From what Talia's said it seems he hasn't fucked you at all. Poor thing. The detective doesn't know what he's missing." It’s far from the first time someone has insinuated something less than appropriate about Dick and Bruce’s relationship, hell, it’s not even the first time Ra’s has implied it. But hearing it while drugged and tied up in such a violating position is enough to make Dick whimper as he fights against the beginnings of tears in his eyes and a sob in his throat.

dreamy sigh. you know the angst is gonna be fun when just writing the outline has your stomach in knots

[remmysbounty]

reunited//din djarin x f!reader

first off, thank you to my Siri ( @booksmusicteaandanimals​ ) for giving me this fic idea earlier today, especially bc after she gave me this idea i ended up getting two other ideas bc of it. 

I hope you all enjoy it :) 

I’m gonna tag some of you that I think will be interested, if you don’t want to be tagged in the future that’s totally fine, just let me know. 

please comment and/or reblog what you think, feedback is very much appreciated

You’d felt him before you saw him. It had been years since you’d felt another Force user in your presence, and even though he was clearly bothered by something, the waves of despair that you felt did not surprise you in any way. Feeling him as you walked down the path, you found yourself standing in front of a creature you had only heard about in legends and bedtime stories.

“Hello little one,” you brought your hand out to touch his three fingers, allowing him to infiltrate your mind, talk to you, “Would you like for me to help you find this man, the Mandalorian?”

You felt a resounding yes come through the force and after securing the little one in your arms, you continued down the path you were on. Clearly whoever you were looking for was someone who would stand out, whether intentional or not, and you had heard rumors about a bounty hunter being in the area that morning, so you figured the best place to head towards would be the cantina. As you walked you got to know more about the child in your arms and he shared with you memories of his journey with this Mandalorian. A Mandalorian who reminded you very much of one that you’d met when you were just on the cusp of adulthood. 

You waved at the little Mandalorians who ran through the marketplace, still having the freedom to do so before the Empire had forced them into hiding, and continued down to your stall, hoping that today would be a good day. The different teas that you’d prepared the night before rested in their containers, waiting for hungry eyes and watering mouths to request them and you sat there, eager to speak with anyone that viewed your stall as appealing, especially a certain Mandalorian who made his appearance every sun-down. 

He had his own blend, one that you’d created by accident, but that he’d enjoyed so much, you couldn’t help but make sure you always had some on hand. The sun had already started to set, the pink and orange hues covering everything around you, as you started to pack your stall- it had been another slow day.

“I hope I’m not too late,” your Mandalorian’s sudden appearance had caught you by surprise, something that happened often.

You smiled softly at the beskar covered man in front of you, “No, you are right on time actually.”

After giving him his tea bag, you finished packing up everything you’d need and started your trek home, accompanied by Mando, “Was your day good?”

A slight tilt of his head and a deep sigh escaping his lips told you that it was anything but, and you couldn’t help but agree, “Me too.”

As the two of you arrived at your door, you watched to see if Mando would follow you inside. Recently, you had gotten the feeling that things were changing between the two of you, and you wanted to tell him how you felt but there was another thing on your mind that you knew needed to be said first.

“Mando,” you whispered, waiting for the iconic tilt that told you he was listening, “I’m leaving Navarro.”

The second those three words left your lips, Din’s hold on the box in his hands released and he almost dropped it before catching it- and himself, “What?”

One word. That was all you got out of him, but what else could you expect.

You looked down at your twitching hands, wondering how you could explain everything to him. How much you loved him, cared for him, and also put him in danger. You knew he had a dangerous profession, but one thing was being a bounty hunter, and another thing was being on the run from the Empire.

“Something’s come up,” those three words told him everything he needed to know. You were hiding something from him and he didn’t like it, but watching your trembling figure next to him, made him wonder why you were lying. You’d always been so talkative, so open, so kind, so- he’d even considered giving you his name tonight, but now he wasn’t so sure.

Your eyes looked at everything but him, “I have to leave. I was won-” you looked down at your feet and took a deep breath in, “Can you stay here tonight, please?”

A deep sigh came from his helmet, “No, I’m sorry.”

You shook your head as a watery chuckle escaped your lips, “It’s okay, don’t apologize Mando-” “Din. Call me Din, please.”

“It’s okay… Din.”

 You hadn’t realized that you were projecting this last memory of your Mandalorian until you felt the child shift in your hands. Looking down you realized he wanted to share something with you. Suddenly, you were bombarded with different images of his Mandalorian as if he were trying to send you a message, “Do you think he’s my Mandalorian?”

As you asked that very question out loud, Din had caught sight of you and the child in your arms. He almost hadn’t recognized you, and if it weren’t for the fact that you held his son in your arms he would have easily skipped over you in his search for Grogu. What a coincidence that the one time he loses Grogu during a fight with some other bounty hunters, it is in the very town you are in.

Din had been so consumed by your appearance, he hadn’t realized the way Grogu had pointed you towards him until you were standing there as clear as day.

“Y/N?” He hadn’t realized he had even whispered your name, still in awe of seeing you after years of separation. It was sweet on his lips, like honey, and he wanted nothing more to drop on his knees and bask in your presence. 

Of course, you hadn’t been sure that the child in your arms was correct until you heard your name escape the helmet in front of you. Your eyes watered as you finally accepted that the child was very much right, “Din?”

Tears ran down your cheeks as you took Din in, “It really is you.”

You felt the child move around in your arms and you suddenly remembered what it is that led you to him, “I take it he is yours.”

Din nodded his head quickly in agreement as he grabbed Grogu from your arms, “Could-” there was a pause, “Would you like to come with me to my ship? We can talk more there.”

You gleefully nodded, even though the tears continued to fall, as you motioned for Din to lead the way.

Soon you found yourself in the comfort of the Razor Crest, and even though you had only been on it once before, it felt more like home then the planet you were currently residing in.

After settling down in the cockpit you found yourself telling Din everything, not only why you left but how you ended up in Navarro in the first place to how you ended up standing before him with Grogu in your arms. While he has hurt that you had never told him any of this before, he understood, in a way you’d wanted to make sure he’d stay safe and that could only be for certain if he didn’t know.

“Oh, cyar’ika,” Din’s hand hovered over your cheek waiting for you to give him permission to touch you in a way he had never done before, “I missed you.”

The tears returned as did the memories of your time right after leaving him, “I missed you too, Din.”

Somehow Din allowed you to come closer and you soon curled up into his chest, your head finding comfort in the sliver of skin open to the air around you, “I don’t want to leave you Din, ever again.”

Din seemed to grunt something at your words and whispered, “Then don’t.”

You brought yourself even closer to Din, which you didn’t believe was quite possible, and whispered a simple ok as you finally let your mind come to terms with the fact that you had been reunited with your Mandalorian, your Din.

--

tags: @booksmusicteaandanimals​ @lathyrusodorxtus​ @thewayofthemandalorian​ @maybege​ @pikemoreno​ @dindjarindiaries​ @dindjarinscape​ @littlemisspascal​ @bitchin-beskar​ @captn-andor

[booksrbetterthanpeople]

The Primaries: Beautiful

Adrien: September 1st, 1989. Dear Diary:

I believe I'm a good person. You know, I think that there's good in everyone, but—here we are! First day of Senior year! And uh... I look around at these kids that I've known since I got here, and I ask myself—what happened? Students: Freak! Liar! Burnout! Moron! Poser! Dumbass!

Adrien: We were so tiny, happy and shiny! Playing tag, and getting chased! Students: Bitch! Jerk! Liar! Bullies! Adrien: Singing and clapping, laughing and napping! Baking cookies, eating paste! Students: Blowhard! Stuck-up! Tabloid! Adrien: Then we got bigger, that was the trigger Like the Huns invading Rome! Welcome to my school, this ain't no high school: This is the Thunderdome! Hold your breath and count the days, we're graduating soon! Students: White trash! Adrien: Next year will be paradise, if I'm not dead by June!... But I know, I know, life can be beautiful I pray, I pray for a better way If we changed back then, we could change again. We can be beautiful...

*Alya trips Aurore* 

Aurore: Hey! Adrien: Just not today. *He goes to help her up* Hey, are you okay? Aurore: *She smacks his hand away* Don’t talk to me. Adrien: Oh, okay Students: Jerk! Liar! Poser! Doormat! Doormat! Doormat! Adrien: Things will get better soon as my letter Comes from Harvard, Duke, or Brown Wake from this coma, take my diploma Then I can blow this town. Dream of ivy-covered walls and smoky French cafés Lila: Watch it! Adrien: Fight the urge to strike a match and set this dump ablaze! *Lila smacks Mireille’s lunch tray out of her hands*

Lila: Oops. Adrien: Lila Rossi. Third year as an Agreste Model, and tenth year of smacking lunch trays and being a lying bitch! Lila: Do you want me to tell your dad what you just said? Adrien: ... Shut up, Lila. But I know, I know... (I know, I know...) Life can be beautiful (Beautiful) I pray, I pray (I pray, I pray) For a better way (For a better way) We were kind before; (Ooh...) We can be kind once more (Ooh...) We can be beautiful... (Ooh... Beautiful...) *Nino taps on his shoulder*

Adrien: Ah!... Hey Nino. Nino: Hey! Adrien: Nino Lahiffe. My best friend since I started this school. Nino: We still on for movie night? Adrien: Yeah, you're on Jiffy Pop detail. Nino: I rented "Jurassic Park." Adrien: Again? Wait, don't you have it memorized by now? Nino: What can I say? I'm a sucker for a good Spielberg movie. Alya: Nino! You can’t go to movie night; I need your help with the Ladyblog. Adrien: Alya Ceasaire: Blogger. She is always jumping to conclusions. It often leads to trouble. Lila: Oh! Then that means you’re free tonight, Adrien! Adrien: No! Nino and I are having movie night! Work on the Ladyblog another time. Lila: I'm sorry, are you actually standing up to me? Adrien: Yes, I am! I wanna know what gives you the right to act like a high and mighty control freak. You're a high school has-been waiting to happen. A future cocktail waitress!... Jean: Wow, Adrien! Your balls finally dropped. Congrats.

*The students laugh while Adrien blushes from embarrassment*

Adrien: Dear diary: Why... Myléne: Why do they hate us? Mireille: Why don't I fight back?

Marc: Why are they such creeps? Adrien: Why... Lila: Why won't he date me? Kim: Why did I hit him? Juleka/Mme. Bustier/Nino: Why do I cry myself to sleep? Adrien: Why... Students: Somebody hug me! Somebody fix me! Somebody save me! Send me a sign, God! Give me some hope, here! Something to live for!

... Students: Ah! Nathan, Chloé, and Mari...

Adrien: And then there's the Primaries. They float above it all... Students: I love Nathan, Chloé, and Mari... I hate Nathan, Chloé, and Mari... Adrien: Nathaniel Kurtzberg, president of the art club. His family is dangerous—they’re the Jewish mafia.

Students: I want Nathan, Chloé, and Mari...

Adrien: Chloé Bourgeois, my sort of best friend. Her dad runs the city. No discernible personality, but her mom did pay for hair extensions. Students: I need Nathan, Chloé, and Mari... Adrien: And Marinette Dupain-Cheng, the Almighty... She has connections all over the world. They’re solid Teflon—never bothered, never harassed even though they’re in my class... I would give anything to be like that. Aurore: I'd like to be their girlfriend. Students: That would be beautiful... Sabrina: If I sat at their table, guys would notice me. Students: So beautiful... Ooh... Nino: I'd like them to be nicer. Students: That would be beautiful... Ooh... Lila: I'd like to kidnap a Primary and photograph them naked in an abandoned warehouse and leave them tied up for the rats.

*Cut to the Primaries in the locker room* Marinette: And after we take down that tabloid blog, we-

Mme. Bustier: *She walks in* Ah, Marinette, Nathaniel, and Chloé. Perhaps you didn't hear the bell. You're late for class. Marinette: Oh, yes. It’d be a shame if we were late to a class that had us read fairytales about princes kissing princesses to break spells. Ever heard of Edgar Allen Poe? *Chloé and Nathaniel snicker*

Mme. Bustier: *Sputters* Week's detention!

Adrien: Um, actually, Mme. Bustier, all four of us are out on a hall pass. Yearbook committee *He shows her the fake hall pass* Mme. Bustier: ...I see you're all listed. Hurry up and get where you're going. *She leaves*  Marinette: *She takes the forged note and examines it* This is an excellent forgery, Agreste. I didn’t know you had it in you. Adrien: Thanks... I crave a boon Marinette: What boon? Adrien: Um. Let me sit at your table, at lunch. Just once. No talking necessary. If the others think that you guys tolerate me, then they'll leave me alone... *They laugh* Before you answer, I also do report cards, permission slips, and absence notes- Nathaniel: How about prescriptions? Chloe: Shut it, Nath. Nathaniel: You shut it. Marinette: ... You know, for a tall, lanky nobody whose father puts him on a strict diet and trims away body fat so you look like a twig in your shitty fashion magazines... You do have good bone structure. Nathaniel: And a symmetrical face. If I took a switchblade down the center of your skull, I'd have matching halves. That's very important. Chloé: Of course, you could stand to gain a few pounds. Marinette: And ya know, ya know, ya know? This could be beautiful. Some new clothes, brush his hair out. And we're on our way. Get this boy some blush; And Chloé, I need your brush Let's make him beautiful. Nathaniel: Let's make him beautiful... Chloé: Let's make him beautiful... Marinette: Make him beautiful... Okay? Adrien: Okay! *The next day*

Lila: Out of my way, bitch! Aurore: Why don’t you get bent?! Mireille: Your class will die at 3 pm! Marc/Jean: Don't you dare touch me! Get away, assholes! Alix/Kim: What did we ever do to them? Students: Who could survive this? I can't escape this! I think I'm dying! Juleka: Who's that with Mari? Students: Whoa... Nathan, Chloé, Mari... Aurore/Mireille/Marc: And someone! Students: Nathan, Chloé, Mari... Lila: And a babe! Students: Nathan, Chloé, Mari... Nino: Adrien?! Students: Adrien? Adrien? Adrien?! Adrien: And you know, you know, you know Life can be beautiful You hope, you dream, you pray And you get your way! Ask me how it feels! Lookin' like hell on wheels... My God, it's beautiful! I might be beautiful... And when you're beautiful... It's a beautiful frickin' day! Students: Nathan! Chloé! Mari! Adrien! Nathan! Chloé! Mari! Adrien! Adrien! Adrien! Adrien! Adrien! 

[bastardsunlight]

WIP snippet meme thing tagged by @avi17

Tagging @daughterofnero and @heamatic

Post a snippet of a thing you're working on

“Earthrealm’s champion is a mighty warrior,” Raiden observes, wrapping a cloth bandage around Shang Tsung’s right hand and wrist with firm care. His glowing eyes are downcast, watching his work, his mind a million miles away. The sorcerer recognizes the distance and reaches out with his as-yet unwrapped hand to tilt the thunderer’s chin upward so their eyes meet, bright and dark. There is still that old thrill of excitement, meeting those strange eyes and Tsung is surprised by his own enthusiasm. This is why I keep him around, he tells himself, as if in a last-ditch effort to maintain control over his emotions. Raiden, as no one else in his life, has been able to step effortlessly past the walls the sorcerer has built to protect himself—his mind and heart, so damaged and broken from a young life in the gutters of an unforgiving city—to lay hands upon the deepest parts of him. He fears this, loathes it, in a way, because it symbolizes his ultimate weakness, the largest gap in his otherwise impenetrable armor. Yet he, ever at war with himself, loves it, deeply and completely, craving the nakedness such intimacy brings.

[[MORE]]

“I am also a mighty warrior, old friend,” Shang Tsung reminds Raiden, pressing his lips to the corner of the former deity’s mouth. Raiden does not smile and the gesture is, for once, unable to pull him back from his distraction. The sorcerer begins to wonder if the man has not lived these moments before.  They have spoken little of Raiden’s life before it became entangled with that of his chosen champion and for many years, that had been just fine, a mystery which would reveal itself or which Shang Tsung would unwrap with great care and gentleness, as he had unwrapped the man’s habit on that fateful night just after he had secured Earthrealm’s safety for ten generations. He of insatiable greed cannot, naturally, hold back that curiosity for eternity and soon he will enquire after it. For now, he supposes, speculation will do.

“And you are fighting on behalf of your Emperor,” says Raiden sourly, knowing what has to happen, what must be done in order for time to continue its course. He has had many conversations with Lord Liu Kang on this exact subject and even a few with Shang Tsung, who, upon meeting Shao Kahn, took an immediate interest, if not an outright liking to him. “His tactics,” the sorcerer had declared, “are far too brutal for someone so old; one might have learned subtlety by now.” But the subtlety had come from somewhere behind the throne—if Quan-Chi’s brand of mad soul sorcery could be called subtle. In other timelines, Raiden reminds himself, he is insidious; now he is a raving zealot with my father’s head whispering blasphemies to him. But he is still dangerous. By winning the Kahn’s favor in the first tournament, Shang Tsung had ousted Quan-Chi as Shao Kahn’s favorite sorcerer; the great Emperor had even granted Tsung the use of Quan-Chi’s flesh pits, an offer Shang Tsung had graciously accepted out of pure, human curiosity.

It is said—in whispers, mind; no one would speak such a thing aloud—that the Kahn’s lovely daughter, Mileena, had been created here, that she is not his flesh and blood, but a copy of the girl Sindel had borne to Jerrod of Edenia. Shang Tsung’s informants had soon given him even more detail about her creation and the reason behind it. “Evidently,” he had told his divine consort one evening as the breeze became chilly off that weird ocean and they lay together under furs, “that mad fool, Quan-Chi, claimed he had the power of something called an Elder God—that he could reverse death. Sindel’s little Kitana was too far gone, they said, and her mind was in shambles. Clever Quan-Chi used his creation, Mileena, to save the Empress and make himself valuable to the great Kahn. How is that for family melodrama?” The power of the Kahn had been such that no one questioned Mileena’s place at his side and her mother, the queen Sindel, had regrettably gone quite mad and so only wanted a daughter to love and dote upon.

“Yes I am, pet, at your suggestion—or have you forgotten?” Shang Tsung’s grip has not relinquished its hold on Raiden’s chin, but he does not pull away.

“No,” he says quietly, “I have not.” Some things, certain events, must happen in order to keep the sands of time from shifting out of control, Raiden reminds himself. Liu Kang had told him that this is one of those events. The new keeper of time, thankfully, is not so cryptic as Raiden’s own, past self—or doomed future self, as time rolls. On the other hand, he is also not dying.

“Do you regret advising me this way?” Shang Tsung’s hand has slid its way around the back of Raiden’s neck under his hair, which is secured with a simple, but pretty hairpin of gold. The sorcerer’s forehead presses forward and their knees touch as he leans into his lover, drawing strength from their proximity. “It is my right to challenge him, as former champion, and as my island sits between all realms, I can ally myself with whomever I choose, can I not?”

“You can,” breathes Raiden, “and his choice of you as his ally and favored sorcerer has angered Quan-Chi, who now seeks to upset the empire of Outworld.”

Shang Tsung does not speak. This is more than Raiden has ever said about his own machinations. The sorcerer is under no impression that his companion is a true fool or simpleton in any way, but his sincerity often gives that impression, so hearing this side of things thrills him. He would take Raiden right here if his match was not coming up shortly. He may still do so; there can be time for them… there is always time for him.

“Even now, in his fury at the affront to him and therefore to his mad, dark god, he is opening a rift between Outworld and…. Elsewhere.” Raiden’s eyes close and he sighs deeply.

“So his dark god… does exist?” Only now does Shang Tsung interpose his voice, so curious is he about the goings-on of the divine aspects of a world which has known few gods. Raiden sighs, shoulders sagging. He signals for his champion’s other hand and it drops gently and obediently from the back of his neck to his lap. Shang Tsung flexes the other one, testing its strength carefully, drawing away from Raiden to sit up straight and regard him intently.

“Yes,” Raiden says eventually, “he is—a remnant of a… dead timeline.”

Shang Tsung feels his heart beat a little more quickly then. Timelines and worlds apart from his own—what riches and knowledge such a thing must hold. But dead? How can a timeline die? How can a world die? Aside from merging with another, a realm can never cease to exist, can it? He makes a mental note to check his library for any old texts which might hint at such a thing, though he is fairly certain if he possessed such a tome, he would remember it.

“And this rift?”

“Could be disastrous for Outworld, but its opening will ensure the Shokan people never ally with Shao Kahn, forcing him to rely upon the Tarkatan tribes as his foot soldiers. They are mighty and many, but…”

The lack of prince Goro in the next tournament ensures long life for Kung Lao, the soft-spoken, humble choice of Lord Liu Kang. A Tarkatan champion might be a worthy foe, but they, at least, only have two arms apiece. This shifts the sands of time, but not beyond Lord Liu Kang’s ken and control. Shang Tsung still fights for Outworld and Kung Lao still faces him. “And if the Tarkatan are allied to the throne of Outworld, the Osh-Tekk will not be; that is an old feud, and a bloody one.”

“So, my sweet, gentle emissary has a few schemes in him, does he?” Shang Tsung’s voice is a purr as Raiden passively finishes wrapping his hand and wrist.  

“A few,” Raiden agrees.

“You are destabilizing an entire realm, o’ exquisite one,” continues the sorcerer. “I admire your ruthlessness.”

Raiden looks up and their eyes meet. Shang Tsung is hungry, his gaze roaming over the thunderer as if the man were utterly naked before him. Raiden knows Kung Lao will win—he must, for the sake of the timeline—and knows he will spare Shang Tsung which, in another life, embitters him and sends him limping foolishly back to a pitiless ruler who punishes his failure. This, Raiden knows, is something Quan-Chi would love to see, though the Netherrealm sorcerer’s mind is currently elsewhere. Shang Tsung is not the only one with informants. This time, however, Shang Tsung will not return to Shao Kahn, as his servitude is a ruse. Still, Raiden worries…

That worry presently evaporates as Shang Tsung’s oh-so-clever hands find his thighs beneath the layers of cloth which conceal them and push them gently apart. He is seated on an ornate bench of dark, carved wood, inlaid with mother-of-pearl and shaped with sensual elegance. It is an ideal place for someone as beautiful as Raiden to be seated—or so Shang Tsung opines. The cushion beneath him is comfortable, the best there is, and it supports him pleasantly as his former student drops to his knees between great, powerful thighs, looking up with glittering, obsidian eyes, asking only the permission of the deity-who-was.

“I would offer more,” Shang Tsung asserts with the weight of years and complete devotion dripping honey over every word, “but…” His eyes dart minutely to the door which will lead out and down to the arena for Final Kombat. His look flashes annoyance, as if the event were a mere inconvenience. Right now, it is, of course, and will be treated as such.

Raiden can feel his pulse rising, core beating hard in his broad chest, and a gentle flush of red-gold crossing fine-boned features. A distant rumble of thunder from an unexpected storm whispers of deep, aching desire, but the sorcerer awaits Raiden’s express permission. Coercion will simply not do.

[stardustndice]

𝒮𝓉𝑒𝓅  𝒷𝓎  𝒮𝓉𝑒𝓅  𝒯𝒽𝓇𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽  𝐹𝑒𝒶𝓇

part one of an obi wan kenobi x senator!reader trilogy

summary: You save Obi Wan using the force, both of you are shook. You then strike a deal.

a/n: Surprise bitches it’s two days early!! This was based on this ask from a long-ass time ago and was reeeeally fun to write. There were a a lot of different routes I could’ve taken with the story, but I’m happy with where it went. Hope you guys are, too. 

wordcount: 2071 (WHEW)

warnings: mild violence, semblance of a panic attack

taglist: @karasong​ @kaminobiwan​ @snips-n-skyguy0501​ @captain-skytrash​(let me know if you’d like to be tagged in this work, future Obi Wan works, or overall!)

The moment was brief, and yet it changed everything.

Your eyes had begun to burn from staring at the quivering blaster shot. The only sound was the deep reverberations of the force and your heavy, shaking breath. The man whom you’d risked your life for scrambled up, taking out the figure behind the gun before carefully stepping over to you.

He held up his hands in the cautious way one does when approaching a frightened animal. “Senator, you can let go,” he whispered, and it was as if those were the only words holding you together.

Your exhale came out as more of a sob. The blaster shot resumed its path, leaving a scorch mark in the Coruscanti marble floor of your quarters. The only thing keeping you from crumbling into panic was Obi Wan’s hands gripping your upper arms. You thought you felt him soothingly tracing small circles into your shoulder and you shook your head slightly to better focus on the situation at hand.

“Where did they come from, t-the assassin?” you spluttered as Obi Wan approached the body. He knelt by the body and glanced at the window, a look of suspicion painted on his face.

“I don’t recognize him. Must be working on his own, but we can’t be sure. I’ll meet with the council.” he said. A lump was forming in your throat as you chewed your lip, unable to tear your eyes away from the new lifeless decoration on the ground. Footsteps tapped across the marble closer to you. Obi Wan appeared in your tear-blurred vision, brows knit in concern. You had trouble meeting his eyes. You felt ashamed for showing weakness and fear of death in front of such a practiced and skilled warrior. Not only that, but a handsome warrior you’d grown fond of over the past months you’d been on Coruscant.

“Senator?” The world snapped back into your brain. After taking a deep breath into your aching lungs, you met his gaze. “The council will make sure that you’re safe. I will make sure that you’re safe,” he half-whispered. You nodded, staying silent out of the fear that your voice might crack and then the lid would be lifted off your terror.

You didn’t want someone so strong to see you so pathetically weak.

Obi Wan straightened as a few clones entered. “Increase security measures around her room. Don’t miss a corner, window, or ,” he ordered. As the clones exited, Obi Wan trailed behind, but not before sparing you one last reassuring look. A smile managed its way onto your face and you jutted your chin out to show an illusion of bravery. Although, as soon as the pair of doors closed, your knees buckled and you hit the floor harshly.

This was never part of your plan. You’d come from a struggling planet, Nuca, in hopes of providing resources and protection for your people, who had been struggling with invasive Seperatist forces for many moons. It had taken a year for you to gain any kind of respect from many fellow senators simply because you came from a world that wasn’t nearly as gaudy as the rest of them. Homesickness had simmered in you during the first month. Coruscant bore no semblance to Nuca’s tropical forests and low-lying volcanoes dusted with brilliant wildflowers. Instead, you were cornered by far too many shades of beige. You’d tried to grow a few of Nuca’s native plants in your quarters, but the change of climate caused them to wilt and crumble.

You hoped it wasn’t an omen.

Now your world had been thrown off-kilter. The Force was never something you’d concerned yourself with. You’d always believed it was meant for the Jedi and the Sith, a weapon wielded only by a chosen group. Senatorial duties had taken up so much of your day-to-day life that the Force and its influence almost never reached you. The only thing that exposed you to the mysteries of the Force was the Jedi Order. You’d become interested in one of their members recently. More specifically, it was the one that had touched your shoulder and looked at you with borderline-ardent affection just moments earlier.

Obi Wan had strolled onto your path just a few months ago. You’d been on more diplomatic off-world missions recently, which meant you were often flanked by a Jedi, but you definitely weren’t bothered. You weren’t bothered when you were accompanied by Obi Wan, at least. Missions and high-stress visits became less stressful in his presence. His clever humor and sarcasm almost caused a break in your composure numerous times, but you weren’t angry. Upon arriving, you’d usually be nervous, but his calm demeanor helped you take a deep breath and negotiate. His presence helped you find your footing.

Sometimes he would come dangerously close to catching you staring at him. Whether it was talking to a member of the council or standing in a LAAT/i, you couldn’t help but focus on him in all his mystery. He was commanding yet gentle, always making sure that you were comfortable although letting you handle tense conversations. Perhaps that’s what drew you to him: his trust in your abilities to negotiate. It was high, silent praise coming from ‘The Negotiator.’

Your head fell back as you stared wordlessly at the ceiling. There wasn’t time to reminisce, to hide away from your discovery. For now, it would have to be set aside. You had a meeting to get to. Even if an entire squadron of clones had to drag you out for your own safety, you had to at least show up. It was common courtesy.

After a year as a senator in the Galactic Republic, you’d learned to keep your chin up in the winding hallways of the senate building. Despite the blood pounding in your head and the sweat on your palms, the mask of determination on your face remained intact.

Once you entered the sunlit meeting room, the chatter of the other senators fell quiet. You set your jaw and locked eyes with a fellow senator, one whom you held a tremendous amount of respect for: Padmé Amidala.

“Senators, good afternoon. It seems the party has already begun without me. Please, continue,” you said, attempting to ease the tension. You really just wanted to move on from the earlier incident. It seemed that your colleagues didn���t share your eagerness, however.

Padmé uttered your name softly before she stood, giving you a pitying look. “Take the rest of the day. After the attempt on your life, you’re not in the mindset to focus on diplomacy.” She looked around at her fellow senators. “No one would.”

Her resolve nearly angered you. She was one of the strongest people you’d ever met, and somehow it still shocked you when she would stand her ground. “Senator Amidala, I’m perfectly alright. I am uninjured and ready to resume my duties,” you declared, breaking her gaze and sitting in your chair. You made sure to keep your back straight. Any sign of weakness after an assassination attempt would mean an immediate exile to your quarters, likely for the rest of the week.

Luckily, she backed off, lowering into her seat and squaring her shoulders. The room’s tension sank back into nothingness and you exhaled quietly.

As the meeting inched along past the two hour mark, you became lost in your own thoughts. Thoughts of your home ricocheted in your mind until suddenly, the sound of breaking glass lurched you back into the room. Every pair of eyes in the room locked on you as you felt your heart struggling to slip past your ribs. Then you noticed that you were no longer sitting, your hands in fists on the tabletop. You hesitated, though, when you glimpsed confusion in the gazes of your colleagues.

On the far end of the table, one of the newer senators had dropped whatever cocktail glass they were sipping from. You furiously blinked away incoming tears, shaking your head.

It sounded exactly like the window just a few hours ago. You could’ve sworn…

“Excuse me for a moment,” you mumbled, nearly knocking your chair to the floor as you stumbled out of the room. Your ears rang as the hallway blurred in front of your eyes. Someone could help, you knew that. All you needed to do was find that person. That task was becoming more difficult by the second, especially because you had no idea where the person or their quarters were located.

With no clue what your body was reacting to, you swallowed and straightened to the best of your ability. Salvation finally offered you a merciful hand when you turned the corner.

Your favorite Jedi was a ways in front of you, practically gliding down the hallway, and beamed upon spotting you. His pace quickened, however, when his eyes flit over your exhausted frame. At last, it felt like the world gave you permission to let go. You slumped against the wall, deflated.

Obi Wan’s hands on your arms were enough to coax your gaze to his concerned expression. The sound of your name falling from his lips felt like it was worlds away. Something wet on your cheek pulled you partially out of your daze. You were crying. The tear vanished soon after its presence was known, a calloused thumb brushing it away.

Before you knew it, he was leading you through the hallways, a hand on the small of your back. Other figures strolling through the halls stared at the Jedi half-carrying a senator. Once you arrived at your quarters, he helped you sit on a simple chair by your desk with a surprising amount of gentleness. The wood was rough under your fists while he sat beside you.

“You’re safe, no one is going to hurt you here,” Obi Wan whispered. You managed to nod and take another deep breath.

“Someone broke a glass and I thought...it sounded just like-” you babbled. Obi Wan nodded, having put the pieces together. “I hate this,” you mumbled. “I don’t want to feel so weak. It feels like I’m not in control, that my life isn’t in my own hands. And now I find out that I can use the Force. Maker, it has been a long day.” The hand you were dragging down your face was plucked away and grasped by Obi Wan. A blush crept over your cheeks as you peered over at him. He avoided your eyes, focused instead on his hand encasing yours.

“The universe is never going to be safe for people like you,” he said. When you raised a brow and waited for him to elaborate, he sighed and finally locked eyes with you. “You’re trying to make things better for your people. There are always going to be people who want to snuff out the light you’ve brought here, to the Republic.” His soft smile lit what felt like a million candles in your chest.

“I represent Nuca in everything I do, in everything that the public and my colleagues see. I’ve been here for a blink of an eye compared to other senators. If I slip up even once, it could spell disaster. I can’t afford to be seen as a coward, even if I am.” More tears were forming in your eyes. Everything that you’ve worked for was crumbling around you. You could feel your heart start to pound again.

“I don’t see a coward. You’re struggling, yes, but being frightened does not make you a coward,” Obi Wan firmly declared. You smiled at him. It wasn’t faked this time, you truly valued his opinion. He took a shaky breath. “If I taught you how to use the Force...would you think more highly of yourself?”

You blinked. He wanted to teach you? “General Kenobi, I doubt you have time to-”

“Midnight tonight in the training arena at the temple,” he blurted, a grin quickly forming on his bearded face. You couldn’t help but smile at his eagerness. Perhaps he was right. Additionally, you’d get to spend some time with him. You’d come to realize that he was quite easy on the eyes, to say the least.

“Alright,” you agreed. His boots softly tapped on the marble floor as he traipsed to the exit. He gave you the same smile as he did the last time he left, and slipped out.

[kandyrezi]

anonymous asked: How would Reficul react to her darling becoming interested in Sin? Or the reverse, Sin becoming interested in her darling? A lovers squabble, the two of them sharing, or something else entirely?

– Yandere!Sin & Yandere!Reficul sharing a darling HCs;

(i deviated from your request a little bit uuu i hope it isn’t too troubling... ; n ; )

- : - : - : - : - : - : -

» Sin is likely the one who ends up finding you first, alone and lost someplace you weren’t meant to be, by which, you won’t have much of a choice when she claims you as her own. The garden of Eden is her domain and that’s where she holds you in her possession. The pentagram world is no place for a fragile human such as yourself and the garden is the most optimal place to keep you safely tucked away. Despite the dread of an unfamiliar, barren place void of life aside from non-sapient animals and plants, Sin isn’t cruel towards you – coming to visit often and talking to you in a soft tone of voice, cooing like a motherly pigeon would over its baby squab.

» Reficul and Sin keep no (crucial) secrets from eachother, so the former knows you exist. After a little while, she would become curious about what you look like, she offers to let her wife’s ‘human lover’ (or a mere pet was more likely) inside their mansion.

» Sin doesn’t want for her human to be frightened, but it might do them good to have some company, or at least tell them a little about herself, since they were so keen on wanting to know of the world she inhabits. You’ve been on good behavior as of lately, so she agrees to it.

» You were certainly an interesting little thing Sin had taken a liking towards; you were headstrong and didn’t quiver before Reficul. She hadn’t really come into contact with humans before. She knew they existed, but didn’t have much of an opinion nor interest in them (beyond the jokesters who attempt to summon her from time to time by drawing the symbol of  the pentagram on the ground in red paint and lighting candles around the circle. not that she’d ever bothered actually showing up, but she’s tempted to just to give them a bit of a fright).

» After spending several weeks inside the mansion with only one way to see how it looked like on the outside as tree branches hit against the window of your room due to never-ending atrocious wind and rain, the backyard was surrounded by tall metal gates. You were beginning to grow a little antsy; if you wanted to escape at all, you needed to know more about the world you were trapped in. 

» You put on your best performance and politely approach Reficul one day to inquire if you can accompany her on her stroll to examine if everything is in order – anything to get away from the ‘naga wife’s’ constant overbearing doting on you. Reficul thinks it over, then looks to Sin with a silent glance, as if to ask for permission, to which the serpent nods.

» “Of course, but keep them safe for me.” she tells Reficul, “I have a bit of business to attend to with an otherworldly visitor anyhow.”

“An otherworldly visitor? Something of importance?”

“You could say that. Just going to have a bit of chat with her from where we left off yesterday.”

» Sin bids both of her lovers goodbye as they leave the mansion. Before you can take in your surroundings more clearly, Reficul snaps a collar with a tag around your neck that reads, ‘if lost, return to Reficul’ attached to a leash.

» “Can’t have a helpless little thing such as yourself running into any possible dangers. Darling wife would most certainly be upset with me if I didn’t bring her pet back in one piece.” she tells you, yanking along the leash, silently urging you to get a move on, and you compliantly do so.

» It was still drizzling slightly even after it’d rained heavily nonstop, the demon queen brought an umbrella with her to hold it over her head with one of her shadow hands sprouting from her wings. You tried to huddle a little closer underneath to shield yourself from the rain as well, but her steely gaze on you once you accidentally bumped your shoulder against her arm made you halt and keep a respectful distance.

» As you pass by several buildings through the streets reminiscent of Romanesque architecture, you would use the opportunity to timidly ask questions about the world’s history, its inhabitants, precise location, so on and so forth. Some to which Reficul graciously gives answers to at first, though she quickly becomes bored and opts to ignore you instead.

» You were certainly given a few funny and some… rather ravenous looks from some of the demons (the pink-haired girl with spider legs eyeing you making a shiver run down your spine), but you didn’t feel afraid when the devil herself - ironically enough - was at your side.

» “I would certainly pity a creature like you should you somehow have accidentally stumbled in here all on your own. The lot here can be quite a vicious, mean bunch to anyone they deem easy targets; you might as well have a dartboard glued to your forehead.” she tells you, and you can tell she isn’t the type to sugarcoat her words.

» You stand by Reficul’s side as she converses with some of the residents about potential interlopers and how they had already caught two of them. You didn’t pay much attention as you tried to look through the stained glass window of a town hall.

» It goes on a little longer than expected, but eventually Reficul’s dragging you to where you were staying before. Sin hasn’t yet returned once you’re back at the castle and the devil orders you to sit on the sofa and not move an inch until then.

» Hours must have passed by then, you feel yourself beginning to nod off, until you feel fingers gently combing through your hair. Startled, you look behind you to see the serpent had slithered her way over to you without a sound. Her hands are covered in something red, with a few spots at the base of her lower serpent half and there are white feathers stuck at the tips of her hair. Her sclera is fully crimson-colored alongside her irises, yet she’s smiling sweetly as ever, unbothered by the mess covering her, opting to instead ask how you’re liking it here so far.

» It would definitely take longer for Reficul to take interest in someone, years even. You would need characteristics or skills that would impress her in some way – your strong will and perceptiveness to the devil’s own character without coming off as nosy or intrusive might be a good starting point. She thinks you would look cute sitting on her lap as decorative pet while she herself sits on the throne, redirecting all denizens coming to her with a problem over to Lzet. Sin might’ve been correct in her assumption of you being unfit for this world, but the serpent was insistent on not allowing you back to your original world either, almost to a possessive extend. She would end up telling Sin how much you interest her and wouldn’t mind getting to know something – someone rather unconventional.

» Sin would never otherwise share her precious human lover with anyone, but she knows her wife would take good care of her human. Although not the kind of care Sin enlisted. Reficul’s means of showing care were more along the lines of ‘tough love’ kind of concern, where she controls your every movement.

» It’s unlikely the two of them would squabble over sharing a lover, when a solution can easily be reached through compromise. They have always worked as a team and supported eachother through thick and thin. Even if you favor spending time with one of them over the other, the ‘left out’ party still treats you with gentility in hopes you’ll have an equal amount of love to share in the future. How can you not, when the two most powerful creatures in the pentagram world worship you like you’re one of them? 

» If you are on good behavior, then Reficul is always content spending time with her lovers and strolling the various worlds. You’ll still have to wear the collar, but she’ll rid of the leash if you promise not to wander off too far out of her or Sin’s line of sight.

» The demon world is so different from the human one and as much as you despise being trapped here, you relish when they bring you along for sightseeing. Your favorite ones so far have been the Star Isle and the Rainbow Isle in the great sea world.

» Mors doesn’t think much of you – so you don’t have to worry too much about him bullying you as he only sees you as the family pet. Though you should probably avoid being too affectionate with either of his parents when he’s nearby. He already has his hands full with one other certain buzzing homewrecker.

» Reficul will teach you basic skills in self-defense and grants you a weapon you can handle, so she won’t need to hover over you all the time, although she’s already made it abundantly clear by marking you so everyone will know the devil’s wrath will befall on them should they harm you in any way.

» If the constant reminder keeps dawning on you and weighing you down about basically being kidnapped and held in confinement far away from your homeland keeps nagging you at the back of your head – it’s nothing Sin can’t fix. Maybe make you ‘hallucinate’ that you no longer have a place to even call home other than with her and Reficul in the castle, manipulate your mind in such a way you’ll be convinced there is no one waiting for you out there.

» Should you misbehave or act out, Sin uses it as an excuse to to dish out the appropriate punishment. Maybe a little similar to Reficul in terms of isolation. The serpent will tie you down with vines in the garden in a little time out, where she leaves you with plenty of fruits to eat when she’s gone. Fruits containing hallucinogenics unbeknownst to you – faces of your relatives and friends back home telling you how glad they are you’re finally gone, insulting you and calling you all sorts of derogatory names.

» Once you’re forgiven of your mishaps, Sin takes you back to the castle. Reficul is the one who notices your reddened eyes and blotchy cheeks and asks, “Have you been crying, little one?” a small nod from you, then “Oh, and why is that?” You don’t notice from the corner of your eye how Sin has been smiling the entire time through your explanation, but Reficul certainly has, but whether or not she knows anything, chooses not to comment on it for the time being.

» Sin tells her wife you already unknowingly accepted the apple from her from the very beginning the first night you found yourself in her garden, the forbidden fruit which will grant you immortality, neither of them will no longer have to fear you withering away from old age.

» Time will tell if you’ll end up being grateful for this blessing (or curse) you’ve been granted.

» Now you were even more trapped than ever before. When one of them would be too busy to keep an eye on you, then the other would take over.

- : - : - : - : - : - : -

(if you want me to make another version of this with darling being reficul’s s/o first with sin becoming apart of the relationship, feel free to shoot me another request.)

[writersrealmbts]

Painted Crown: Part 3

Description: You have faithfully served the royal family for years. But as reality sets in, Jungkook, a prince from a neighboring kingdom, offers you something you had never dreamed of having.

Warnings: N/A

Posted: 08/26/2019

Tags: Jungkook x reader, Prince!Jungkook, Prince!Taehyung, Prince!Hoseok

?: 1,963 words

A/N: Third part! I have a total of 71 words for the next part, so I’m going to be buckling down here. I just got distracted watching Hwarang again, plus we got a puppy on Saturday and then had to give it back because our dog reacted to it in a really unusual way. So. Yeah. It’s been a rough weekend.

You quickly guided him another way, seeing Taehyung with the visiting princess. “Apologies, sir, I did not wish to run into—” “Taehyung,” He finished the thought. “I saw. I was about to suggest diverging, myself.” You fixed your gaze on the flowers in bloom. “There is already talk of them getting engaged. A long engagement, as it must be to allow for their parents to work out the details of their wedding, but still.” “They are very much in love, even if he does look to you still.” “I have ways of avoiding his majesty’s presence.” “I can take you away from him so you would never have to be in pain again, and he will no longer be distracted by you. He will do as his country needs,” He said, softly. You looked at him in the corner of your eye. “I would give you time to think about it, but we leave for my country on the morrow.” “Then I should wonder at you courting me at all,” You answered, looking away momentarily. You had enjoyed every moment spent with him, truly, but you weren’t certain you could go with him. “I am, for all intents and purposes, asking you to marry me. You would leave with us tomorrow, and we would wed in my kingdom.” He was almost pleading, but not quite. “I can make you comfortable for the rest of your life.” “There is no assurance you can give me that we would ever wed, nor insurance that our union would be welcomed. There would be no point.” You turned away slightly, surveying the ballroom. “My dowry would be inconsequential to a prince. Should you not marry in a way that benefits your kingdom?” “In marrying you, I would do the kingdom more good than if I were to marry some foreign princess who has never so much as lifted a finger for herself, let alone others. I know we haven’t had suffiecient time to court one another, I know that you do not feel for me as I do you. But I know that as my wife, you and I could help my kingdom in so many ways. I know that comfort is of little meaning to you, so I also offer adventure. I would only ask you to leave my side if the danger to you was greater than what I thought I could defend you from. I often travel throughout my country to help deal with problems, and you could travel by my side.” Your breath was caught in your chest, and you could see the gravity of his demeanor from the corner of your eye. Taehyung was all smiles with her, and you could see that he was in love with her. It was the same look he had when he was with his dogs, or a good tall tale. The same look he had when talking about art, or painting. His only hesitance was you. The kingdom needed a royal wedding. He needed to marry the princess. And you… Prince Jungkook took your hand, placing his ring in your palm. Your eyes widened as you looked up at him, facade completely destroyed by this gesture. “There, now you hold my power in the palm of your hand. My authority.” He was grinning, of all things. Like it was a challenge. Only, you were the prize he was aiming for. Very flattering. You looked down at his signet ring. Your father wouldn’t dare to disapprove, your mother would be overjoyed, were she alive. You’d have to take leave of the royal family, those you had served faithfully for so many years, however you knew that only Taehyung and his sister would truly care. “Well?” You closed your hand around it, and dropped a curtsy. “I would be honored, my prince.” “Truly?” He sounded surprised and excited. You peeked up at him and couldn’t help but smile as well. “I will make sure you never doubt your decision,” He told you eagerly, taking your unoccupied hand into his own and holding it as if it was delicate and precious. You felt your heart melt a little at the expression on his face, the way he looked at you, everything. “I will aim to please, sir.” “Jungkook,” He corrected gently. You bit your lip, then nodded slowly. “Jungkook.” “Y/n,” He said as he gently touched your cheek. “There will be much to prepare. You should pack. May I see you home, that I might ask your father’s permission?” You dipped your head. “We live in the castle, Pr—” His lips met yours ever so briefly, but so sweetly. You looked up at him, slightly dazed and surprised. “I told you, call me Jungkook,” He admonished sweetly. “Yes, Jungkook,” You whispered. He grinned at you. “You live in the castle?” “My father fell ill some years back, ever since we’ve lived in the castle so that the physician can watch his health. Since I’m one of the Princess’s ladies in waiting, it benefits us both if I am located in the castle,” You explained, taking the arm he offered you. “Our lands are far enough away that it was inconvenient for the physician.” He nodded slowly. “I see. Would he be willing to have company?” “I am certain he will.” “Your father, would he wish to…” “My father has little tolerance for travel, and is loyal adviser to the king. He will likely only attend the wedding and visit every now and then when he feels up to it. It will pain him having me so great a distance away, but he will be happy for both of us.” Jungkook nodded, resting his free hand over the hand you had on his arm. “Do you think he would be willing to part with you?” “If he believes I will be content.” “Do you believe you will be content?” You thought for a moment, looking up at him as you walked. “I think…I hope I will be.” Honestly, the prospects for marriage weren’t good for you. It was unlikely that you marry for love, but if your impression of him was a good indication, you could see how you could quickly fall for him. Indeed, you had already begun. His kindness, and his enthusiasm, the way he handled you so delicately as if you were a precious thing to be cherished; all were alluring in their own way. But most of all, you trusted him. He was so sincere and open, that it was hard not to. And every story and piece of gossip painted him as a bright, caring prince, who worked hard to ensure that his father’s country thrived. He toured the many cities to ensure they were all stable and safe, review the garrisons, check the buildings to ensure they were warm for winter, and he and his brother had personally seen to one of the old manor’s conversion into a home for children. “Jungkook! There you are. And my lady y/n, a pleasure.” Hoseok grinned as he dipped his head to you. “How are the gardens today?” “Rather romantic, it would appear, Prince Hoseok,” You replied. “You’d best not enter with a lady, lest you be trapped with her forever.” “If I should be so fortunate as to be trapped with a lady such as yourself, I would consider myself exceedingly fortunate, but it appears my brother has earned that privilege.” “Hyung, we’re on our way to meet her father.” Hoseok’s grin, if possible, got even broader. “Father will be pleased. You will travel back with us, y/n?” You nodded. “Unless my father does the unthinkable and refuses. Even then, I cannot stay here.” “You will make a fine princess, y/n,” He said with a bow. “I will let you both be on your way. I’ll make sure Yoongi prepares for you to join us on our return journey.” “Thank you, my lord.” He bowed again as you curtsied and walked off with a bounce in his step. “It is somewhat unorthodox for the younger to be married before the elder,” You pointed out to Jungkook. He shrugged. “My father wishes him to marry the princess of another kingdom we are in good relations with. Hoseok is not quite ready for that, so it has been put off for now.” “But he has no qualms regarding you and marrying a mere lady of the court?” “Our country is strong, as you already know. One strategic marriage is enough for our country. In a test of will, I outlast my father every time, but he already said having a happy marriage will be better for our country than a second strategic marriage which could cause conflict with our current allies. Our people have worried that we are unhappy. They fear it could lead to instability, which ultimately affects their lives.” He guided you indoors, facing you and tilting your chin up to meet his gaze. “My brother was correct. You will make an excellent princess.” You studied his face. “Will I travel with you?” “If you wish to. I will never ask you to part from me, but I would wish that you stay away from the most dangerous of situations.” “I think that sounds like a fair compromise,” You said, looking down with a smile. “But maybe I shouldn’t be a princess.” “You will be my wife, which makes you a princess. You know how a princess behaves. You’ll do well. I know you will. And we can collect ingredients for paints while we travel,” He suggested, brightening up visibly. You grinned. “That could be very fun.” “And maybe I could paint you?” He asked, looking at you with such innocence that it was nigh on irresistible. “Perhaps you may. We would be seeing quite a lot of each other. Nothing quite so modern, though, imagine if someone were to see it.” He chuckled softly. “That would be quite the scandal.” “Don’t laugh, I’m perfectly serious,” You scolded lightly, smiling and laughing a little with him. “Y/n!” You flinched and then dropped a curtsy at the severe tone of the young princess. “Princess, my apologies, I did not see you there.” She gave you a pouty look. “It is Monday, we ride on Monday but you were not there! I had to go with my brother and his…whatever she is.” “The princess your brother is courting may very well be your future sister, try to have patience. I apologize for not riding out with you this morning, something else came up that prevented my enjoying your company. Perhaps we could go riding in the morn?” She grinned, her smile similar to her brothers, yet cute in it’s one way. “Really?” “I would not have said if I could not follow through, my lady. If you could pardon us for now, though, we must go speak to my father.” She nodded, taking on a regal air. “Yes, you are dismissed. Give Lord Henley my regards.” You gave a sharp nod of approval, making her eyes sparkle with delight as she flounced off happily. “I see. They made you her lady in waiting to teach her how to properly conduct herself.” “I’ll have to tell her I’m leaving,” You murmured, looking after her sadly. “And make arrangements for another companion for her.” “Sorry,” He said softly. “No, it would happen eventually,” You replied, taking his arm once more, and looking up at him. “This lighting is very good for you.” He smiled. You stopped him in front of a door. “Ready?” “To make you my wife? Yes.” His shoulders seemed to get broader, and his whole posture screamed ‘Royalty’. You impulsively kissed his cheek, then entered the sitting room. “Father?”

—--

Part 2 ~ Part 4

Masterlist ~ Jungkook Masterpost

[maidenxfmight]

penny for your thoughts

Tagging: @jeangrcysummers & Kara When: The day the siege started Where: Central Park (it all happens in Central Park) What: Jean tries to understand why Kara has changed. Warnings: Blood mention, death mention Word Count: 4,231

JEAN: Something was wrong. Something was wrong far beyond the general anxious gnawing Jean had at her gut since the United Nations meeting gone wrong, since Mystique dropped that man to the ground and Jean was left wondering what kind of army she’d signed up to, what price she would pay for achieving freedom for her people -- that was if this plan of Erik’s actually worked. If they got to the end of this and still had nothing to show for it, what would Jean do then? What would the next step be?

The future had never seemed so uncertain, and Jean was the woman who had died more times than most of the students could keep track of.

In the midst of the chaos of her life, there had always been lynchpins, points of contact, anchors that she could come back to. Scott. Rogue. Illyana. Erik, when he returned. Charles. Kara. Kara Danvers, who looked her straight in the eye and said that the Phoenix, what it made her do, changed absolutely nothing about their friendship. Kara who provided a home, right from their first meeting. Kara, who made Jean feel like she was alive again, instead of masquerading in the place of a ghost.

Kara, whose aura she could pick up on, even dimly, across cities, countries, continents. Kara, who Jean knew like the back of her hand.

Kara, who had changed. It was a dangerous move, to return to the Institute and use Cerebro to search for her. It was putting people at risk, it was opening up the shield to potential Sentinels, it was stupid by all tactical considerations -- but love made people stupid. And Kara was someone Jean loved, someone she considered family.

As it turned out, she could’ve just looked at the news.

Central Park. It couldn’t be anywhere but Central Park.

(Bullets flying, blood staining the grass, that sound of a disembodied scream that turned out to be her own, an Enforcer falling to the ground and then disintegrating into dust.)

Jean swallowed all of that back, landing lightly on the grass.

“Supergirl,” Jean called out, allowing the name to reverberate through psychic channels, too -- but she couldn’t get through. Kara’s natural immunity seemed to have been bolstered, shifted in the past few days. “It’s Jean. Can you hear me?”

KARA: Somewhere overhead, a helicopter beat a sharp staccato against the mid-afternoon sky. Kara could hear each blade as it spun, the heavy, rapid breaths of the news crew in the cabin. Their lens made a soft scrape as the cameramen spun to zoom. Their hearts beat too fast: scared.

She was a reporter, she knew what message was being broadcast to the world. Another superhero out of control, more collateral damage, more reason to control them. Her fingers curled into her palm, her head tilted to the helicopter as it circled above her. At one point, she may have written a story about how they misunderstood, but now...

She was tired of trying to convince them. They didn't care that she was a refugee, that she liked chocolate pecan pie, and she considered herself a Gryffinpuff. They didn't care that Gabbie just wanted people to look at her like she wasn't something to fear, or Peter had a right to his identity. They didn't care that Scott died in love not too far from where Kara stood, and Jean only ever wanted to love him back.

They didn't care. They only cared about what they could do. And in that moment Kara could do so much. She thought about wrapping her hands around the landing skids and dragging it back to Earth. They metal would give so easily. She could...

Jean's voice broke through, more than just aloud. Something prodded at the edge of her consciousness and her thoughts derailed. Her gaze dropped, squinting to find Jean landing on the grass just through the trees, and she smiled. She caught, just for a moment. No one had approached her since Alex the night before, and there was Jean. Of course there was Jean.

(A part of her screamed, if anyone would understand what was happening, how her mouth formed words she didn't want, how her hands had pulled apart struts even as she fought so hard not to–)

She was in front of her in a moment, "This is awfully public of you. Are you here to try to talk some sense into me, or is this just a check in?"

JEAN: Everything was supposed to be coming together. The rest of the city was living life on a knife’s edge, never entirely sure of where the next chess piece would move, but Jean was on the inside of this one -- she knew where she needed to go, knew what needed to happen, knew that the outcome would be the same even if they were forced to improvise on the finer details for part of the way. This was supposed to be, at least for her, the wind down. It was supposed to be where everything slotted into place, where the gnawing anxiety that had been building in her chest since Central Park started to wane.

Instead, it felt like everything was falling apart.

The first person she thought of when this happened, naturally, was Kara. Kara, who maintained something of a distance from her life in the Institute, who represented someone outside of mutantkind who looked at Jean and saw all of her and accepted her anyway. Kara, who was her friend, her sister, her family.

She didn’t realize until she investigated further that those bridges falling weren’t the work of the Brotherhood, or the defected X-Men. She mentioned it, albeit briefly, to Scott, who knew nothing -- enough of a warning bell that she knew asking Erik would give her nothing but more questions. So she investigated for herself.

And now she was standing face to face with Kara, and her voice didn’t sound like Kara. It didn’t feel like Kara. This force pressing back on Jean’s psychic push, the natural Kryptonian immunity seemingly bolstered by something that wanted her out, that wasn’t normal. Jean never looked deeper into her friend’s mind than she was asked to -- but the option was there. The option was there because they trusted each other. Jean hoped that would stand by her now.

“The latter,” Jean replied, “unless you feel like you need some sense. I’m not entirely sure I’m the right person to give it.” After all, what had she done for the past few weeks that indicated she was good at thinking things through? Every action Jean took only seemed to lead to more problems, or encourage those around her to take a situation and make it worse. “What are you doing, Kara?”

KARA: There was something nagging on the edge of her mind, and she knew it was Jean. It was different than the fight she'd been waging with herself for days. It was different than Alex and her gun, or Lar and his papers and that look. It was something she didn't feel very often, not even with Jean, who respected her boundaries better than most.

It meant Jean didn't know, and oh, that was interesting. Maybe Erik did have something he couldn't stand to lose.

"I'm–" Failing, somehow. Thoughts slipping one over the other, unable to grasp more than the ones that hurt. And Jean was right there, pressing in. Somewhere Kara screamed; she could imagine Jean pressing each bad thought down, one by one. Untangling the web so she could just think, just for a moment. She could apologize, or run, or fling herself into space until she didn't feel as much like tearing the whole world down to make a new one. But red outlined her veins and the screaming was smothered.

"I'm remodeling." She spun with a grin, squinting at the buildings around her until New York was nothing but skeletons. The bridges in the distance were warped steel and iron, and smoke rose steadily from various incidents throughout the city. She settled on one building, seventy-stories high, the inside wrecked. "I think L-Corp is a bit of an eyesore, don't you?"

Erik had cautioned her to wait, and her mind easily wavered from Lena. Jean had been at the United Nations. Jean had been on the news, she didn't flinch. Kara wondered if she was following orders, or if she believed just as passionately as Erik. Or if, like Kara, their goals would only run parallel for so long.

"I'm doing just fine, Jean. Having the time of my life, actually. Don't you have better things to do?"

JEAN: She didn’t enter minds without permission. She did, once, a long time ago -- she was a child without a notion of how to control these new abilities, and everyone’s thoughts blurring into hers. Sometimes they were like bulls in a china shop, tearing through her memories, their psyches confoundingly present. Other times, it was far more sinister. Their ideas, their concepts, slid into Jean’s thoughts and wrapped around her own mind. They made her feel as if they were hers, and before long, she didn’t know what was really Jean Grey and what was something else.

Maybe that’s why she was the ideal host for the Phoenix in the first place. Maybe that’s why days and nights disappeared into darkness, why she woke up in the morning and knew, instinctively, that she had been somewhere, done something, that she couldn’t pinpoint. Jean knew what it was like to be in the backseat of her own body, screaming that they were headed for a cliff, powerless to stop it.

She didn’t know why she was thinking of that now. She didn’t know why Kara -- her friend, her sister, bridesmaid at her wedding and co-parent to her cat -- would be pushing back this ferociously now, why her voice would be sharp where it had once been warm, but jumping immediately to something like that…

It was paranoia, from watching Erik. Paranoia, from seeing how Scott was growing more and more obsessed with plans, staying awake late into the night, seeming almost startled when she passed him a cup of coffee. Paranoia from seeing herself.

But this wasn’t Kara. Jean pushed just a little more as she stepped forward -- and pain rippled through her own temple. Resistance. Strong resistance. Kryptonian level resistance if Kara was really trying to keep her out.

“What kind of remodeling?” Jean asked, keeping her voice casual, as if she was asking her friend for a Starbucks order. “You know I’m not great with interior design, but maybe you can let me in on it.” She followed Kara’s gaze towards the skyline, still keeping her form in the periphery of her vision, and saw the familiar logo. “Well,” Jean said, thinking back to Erik’s rage about Lena Luthor, about the Sentinels, about what she had said on the matter -- that the woman deserved what she got.

Jean wasn’t so sure about that, now.

“I can think of worse places,” Jean commented. “Luthor … you’ve spent time with her before, right?” Supergirl always seemed to be there when Luthor needed help. Jean wasn’t going to act like that was a coincidence. Kara turned back to her, and Jean sucked in a breath. It was uncharacteristic, a bit like a slap in the face, but she could take it.

She could take it now she knew what she was dealing with.

“You’re not yourself, Kara,” she said, simply and firmly. Her voice softened as she continued. “I know what it feels like, to be … to be angry. Believe me, I know. But I can help you. I can help this all go away, you just need to let me in.”

KARA: "On Krypton, we didn't have all of these blocks. Our buildings curved." She could almost see it, tracing the bend of her family home with a finger. Her voice was almost gentle for the first time in days, and her heart thudded painfully in her chest. She didn't want to see it anymore. She was so tired of painting Krypton in shades of red and orange, of covering her canvasses and hiding them in corners because Rao forbid someone were to walk in. Someone who didn't know. Someone who didn't agree.

The sky was blue, and the buildings were blocks, and Kara was still the last one who cared.

"I could see all of them from my bedroom window, all the pods, the lights." She paused, her hand dropping to her side. For a moment, her veins glowed red, her hands clenching into fists. "We also didn't hate each other just for being who we are."

She caught again on L-Corp tower. There was so much about this world she'd grown to love. It was amazing how so much of it could be erased in moments. Just one word, built upon one too many missteps. She didn't want to remodel. She wanted to tear it all down. She wanted to dig her fingers into steel until it warped and tore. Again and again until the world broke or she did.

Jean might know what it meant to be angry, but their anger came from different places. It aligned at times, of course. They both lived in a world that punished anyone who dared to be normal. They both knew what it was like to hide. They both hurt in ways that couldn't be described or quantified, it just was. Jean was born into a world that had already decided she shouldn't be there.

Kara could still remember a world that had loved her, and she lost it. And she never had a choice.

She never had a choice.

"I'm more me than I've ever been." She looked to Jean again, eyes traced in glowing red. One hand lifted to rub at the slight prick at her temple, taking a step closer. "I'm finally helping myself. I'm– stay out I don't need you, Jean."

JEAN: Jean couldn’t read her friend’s mind,  couldn’t get past the invisible wall that she’d formed between them, and she’d always promised herself that when someone said no she would listen. When a friend looked her dead in the eye and said get out, she would.  Telepaths had an even greater responsibility than most mutants, she knew that — and she also knew that right now, she had a responsibility to her friend, to her fall, to the city, to bend some of those rules without breaking them.

“It sounds beautiful,” Jean replied, voice thick. “Maybe you can show me those memories, sometime. I would love to see it.” Life had been so hectic since their respective secrets came out. Jean learned Kara’s identity in a hospital room when they were uncertain if Alex would even wake up. Kara learned about the Phoenix over orange juice only a few weeks before the world fell apart. They knew each other, but they hadn’t had time to talk about it, not really.

Jean knew that look in Kara’s eyes. She’d seen it reflected in the mirror a million times — and she’d seen it in the faces of her husband and mentor in the past months since Central Park, too.

Was it the bird? For a brief second Jean reached to her,  but the flames didn’t lick against her skin. There was energy here, palpable and unnatural, but not cosmic fire.

“Okay,” Jean said, taking a step back, hands up as she moved. “You’re doing what you feel is right. Why don’t you tell me what that is, Kara? We can fix this, together. We can fix all of it.” Jean sucked in a breath, letting the silence sit between them for only one tense moment. “Burning the world down,” she started, “will not bring you peace.”

KARA: "Then what is supposed to bring me peace?" Kara took a step forward, brows drawn together, hands restless at her sides. "Putting on a pair of glasses, pretending to be human? Making myself less every day because if I don't someone somewhere will punish my family for it?"

Kara thought of Krypton. She thought of curved spires and the markets at street level. She thought of Rao's prayers, and how her family would recite them every night. And she felt peace, then. With her mother's soft voice guiding her through words born into her she was home. Soft and warm under Rao's light. She hadn't fully realized how much she'd missed it until Reign, and then Lar came into her life. It was something lost among the stars; she'd shifted and changed so much she'd nearly forgotten it was a part of her.

And truly, it was lost. Her family had turned there backs the moment she'd spoken Magneto's name. Lar's heartbeat had faded not long after she'd shoved his proposal against his chest.  Alex held a gun to her chest. There was only Kara, and her memories, and a world that insisted it didn't want her. It didn't want her prayers, or her history, or her culture. It stole the word 'alien' and morphed it into 'roach' and wrote it on protest signs to wave in Central Park. If she was going to find peace, she was going to have to make it.

"Besides," she pulled in a breath, steady, letting her hands unclench, "Isn't that what you're doing? Searching for peace in war?"

JEAN: It had always been different for Jean. She could pass, where other mutants within the Institute were forced to be recognize for what they were, outed by their appearance or abilities that couldn’t be hidden behind measures of control. When Kara tales about a pair of glasses, about blending into human life, about denying her true self so she could live in peace, Jean understood that — but that didn’t mean she could let her friend keep going.

“I know what it’s like, keeping yourself under control. Every single day, you ... you can’t even breathe in case you take down a building with you, in case you brush a little too close to someone and ruin their life. I get that. But Kara, lashing out won’t get you anywhere. It only ends badly.” Jean had died before, when she leaned into that fear, into her anger. She had burned up on the lawn and she came back, only by the grace of an entity she still couldn’t completely figure out the intentions of. “You’re right. I am fighting a war. But I’m not doing it alone.”

Jean took a small step forward, hand up. “You are so powerful,” she said, “but your true strength always comes from the people who love you. You taught me that, more than anyone. If you want to fight, you can fight with us. We are making a world better for everyone who is different. We are forcing them to give us a place to rest. You can help with that. Don’t let the pain force you into doing this alone.”

KARA: I'm not doing it alone.

Kara's apartment had a revolving door, and it wasn't because it was a particularly nice apartment, or a convenient location. It was average, and out of the way. No, it was because for so long, Kara had loved everyone she could, everyone who needed it. She'd fostered a home and called her friends family. El Mayarah meant stronger together, it meant hope, and it was one of the few things she could take from Krypton and embody entirely. She'd crawled out of a pod and watched Kal fly away, and decided she wasn't going to let anyone ever feel unloved or unwanted.

For a moment, Kara caught. Jean had a family and a purpose. She had Scott, and Erik so obviously loved her. They were fighting for their family, for the people they loved, so they may live in a space safe for them. Late nights with tea and a purring super cat said Kara was a part of that family. But–

"I asked my family." Kon told her to get out, Alex held a gun to her chest. Kal was only ever a cape on a television screen, there only when it best suited him, and gone before she could ask him to stay. Donna was off putting the pieces she'd left behind back together, and hadn't truly talked to her in so long Kara wondered how they'd let so many miles grow between them.

She couldn't hear Lar's heartbeat anymore.

She wanted her family. Stronger together, she thought. She wanted them to understand her anger just as well as they understood her hope. She wanted to tell them about Krypton, to see the same vision for the future she did. She wanted curved spires and marketplaces that smelled of food Earth couldn't even dream of. She wanted her dad and his lab, her mom's arms around her. She wanted, she wanted all these things she could never have, and it hurt.

It hurt until she couldn't hold it anymore, and when she broke she was answered with guns and lit eyes and 'not like this, Kara.' "I asked my family, and they said no. Why don't you tell them we're supposed to be stronger together." Kara pulled in a breath, fingers flexing at her sides. "What was your goal here, Jean? Stand here and tell me I'm loved, and it'll all be okay? We'll figure this out together? It's not enough." She took a few steps back, shaking her head. Something tugged at her, something that said Jean had understood better than anyone else. Jean actually said things that mattered.

Jean had sat across from her and talked of anger, and how hard it could be to control. She wasn't just reaching a hand out because she wanted Kara to stop, she was reaching a hand out as someone who could see her, honestly see her. And Kara rallied, she tried so hard. Let her in, let her in, but her thoughts tumbled away. "Unless you have something more productive than 'love bonds us all,' I think we're done here."

JEAN: Jean was a scientist. She was a soldier. She’d been a part of the X-Men since before she was anything else, and that meant logic and pragmatism needed to be at the forefront of everyday life. In the Institute, they put a target on their own backs in order to prove to the world that mutants were there to protect themselves, yes, but also humanity — to prove that they weren’t there to propel evolution forward, or to wipe out other races in an attempt to save their own.

That meant that her heart should never outweigh her head, but it did, constantly and consistently. Jean acted on her gut far more than she did on tactical expertise or reading the terrain. She fought on her own terms, allowed the auras of the people around her to guide her actions. It was only when she took that feeling out of it that things started going wrong. When she looked at the logic of a situation, like the decades and centuries of mutant suppression and discrimination, and figured that nothing would change in her lifetime, in any of their lifetimes, that they were doomed to live half an existence for as long as they were allowed before dying a premature death. When Jean allowed herself to see only in facts, hope diminished, and people got hurt.

People were getting hurt now. That was never Kara’s intention. It wasn’t just a smiling girl in a karaoke bar that drew Jean to Kara — she knew that the second the truth came out in the hospital, and then over the island counter in her kitchen. They were more alike than they ever thought. “I can do that. We can work it out, together. You could come with me, and we could talk to them.” There was nothing that couldn’t be solved if they worked together. (Was that hypocritical to say when Jean’s family reunion turned into a civil war in New York? When what they accomplished together was only more bloodshed, albeit with good intentions?) “Your family love you, Kara. You’ve formed something here that people can only dream of. I know what you’re going through, but we are never better alone.”

There was a moment, just a split second where Jean stepped forward and Kara didn’t increase the distance between them, a brief instant where she saw something shift in her friend’s eyes. She reached for her hand, and then Kara was gone, in a burst of speed she’d never seen before, not this close.

We could follow her, a voice whispered. Jean would. She needed to. Kara was her friend, her sister, the woman she wanted by her side on the best day of her life and every day before and since. We could follow her, but you don’t want to do that.

The wind picked up, blowing through the park. The grass shifted, and Jean was back in that moment, blood soaking into the dirt.

We have other battles to fight, it said, and you need to save your strength.

It was right. (It was always right.)

It was time to pay Erik a visit.

[shieldedsouls]

this largely covers information in terms of thor learning of and dealing with loki’s mortality. mostly this has to do with thor’s perception of their relationship, but touches on his relationship with frigga as well as her assumed death.

tw for: death, death mention, faked death, anger issues

please message in private if i missed something or you need an extra tag !!

aside from a couple of groups such as the asgardians and olympians, there really aren’t any immortals within the nine realms

jotunns are part of the mortal stock, and i’ll get back to this in the next segment

thor and loki are raised believing they are of the same blood, that they are siblings in every way and they therefore both have eternity to see through together

while it does not go unnoticed that loki sort of ages and grows differently, no one in their group thought much of it beyond general teasing

it DID make thor more protective of his sibling than he might have otherwise been, which really pulls together on how much he still cares in the future after things go wrong

even when he does first find out about loki’s heritage, he’s more angry about the fact they were lied to and trying to calm his sibling down than he is focused on what exactly that means for loki’s lifespan

thor is dealing with so much else happening at the same time that he doesn’t have the ability to process this until much later on.

it isn’t for some time after loki’s fall from the broken bifrost that thor really mourns that his sibling is gone, that he won’t be getting loki back because mortals simply do not pass in the same way immortals can choose to. as far as thor knows, that moment is it, that’s the last time he’s ever going to have a sense of his sibling being around.

then loki shows up again, in midgard of all places, and with a dangerous weapon but something is off about the whole thing and thor is going to find out what so he can bring loki home. loki does a bunch of really shitty/stupid things here, but ultimately he’s unharmed as far as thor is personally concerned, and he’s able to successfully bring his sibling back to asgard in one piece without a terrifyingly heavy reminder loki will still die one day

then loki is imprisoned, and that turns into a sort of new status quo. when thor isn’t off cleaning up messes in the nine, he is trying to get loki’s sentence changed, or trying to visit ( often being blocked permission one way or another by odin ), though he doesn’t have the chance to do either as much as he would like.

when malekith shows up, thor is already trying to deal with protecting jane and figuring out what to do with the aether

frigga actually does a huge amount of emotional damage to him at this point, using an illusion of herself and jane to distract malekith and keep the aether away from him

thor doesn’t find this out until much later, and his grief is very raw and real as he’s spending time thinking she chose to pass on in order to protect jane and the nine

this is why he ultimately still goes to loki and breaks him out

despite them both being very fragile in a lot of ways because of frigga’s decision, thor appreciates getting his sibling out of the damned cell and giving loki an opportunity to prove themself, a chance to protect the nine like thor has always thought they were meant to: together

the plan of apparent treachery goes off beautifully and jane is safe, but thor gets thrown about a bit more than he had expected to

he doesn’t get a chance to tell loki to run before his sibling is being killed by the same person who seemingly killed their mother and thor cannot handle that much loss in such a short time

literally the only reason he gets up and doesn’t absolutely fall apart at this point is because he has to stop malekith, he has to protect the nine to the best of his abilities, or his family’s sacrifices will mean nothing and he can’t disappoint their memories like that

by the time the whole problem with the aether is wrapped up, thor is quietly carrying his grief and realises in that moment he cannot accept becoming king, not for a very long time at least, because all he sees in this set of experiences is where he failed to protect. his only duty up to this point is to protect and defend the nine and its inhabitants, and not being able to save his mother or sibling shakes him to the core so vividly that continuing to protect others is all that will hold him together.

so when odin ( coughdisguisedlokicough ) offers the throne, he can’t accept it. thor feels this desperate need to make up for not being able to do enough for his family, and he retreats into his duties again, buries himself and his pain in saving others, because if he doesn’t, all he’ll want to do is mourn.

when thor finally does find out/realise frigga and loki are both alive, though both hiding in very different ways, he is angry. angry with them for lying, for leaving, and in many ways he handles both situations like a petulant child would.

he throws a fit with frigga, complete with tears and “ how could you do this to our people, to father, to loki and me ” because she’s one of the only things both he and loki care about in equal measure in the entirety of existence

it’s very purposeful to include loki in every mention of himself, because as far as he’s concerned, frigga truly sees them as siblings still the same way he does

he does not do this in public however

this happens in private where she’s been hiding on midgard, resting and recovering from extensive use of her magic

and she ends it with a promise to return home eventually

with loki he exposes the lies with threat of bodily harm and somewhat childish “ yes you are/no i’m not ” kind of banter, outing him in front of everyone

he keeps frigga’s living a secret, tells loki when they are alone because his sibling deserves to know but he won’t reveal her to all of asgard without her being ready to return home to back it up

as for the future, and how thor could or would handle loki dying: he can’t. Straight up, end of story, cannot deal with the fact he is going to one day lose his sibling and it will be real and painful.

every illusion gets him every single time, because thor stops processing beyond oh my stars loki is dead that’s my baby sibling and i couldn’t protect them even though he knows loki cannot live forever

loki might seem to be playing it as a game, and maybe to them it is, but thor’s reactions are always genuine and raw for this reason

he tries very hard to internalise his grief the way he can with most other things, but it has always been different when it comes to loki

and when it comes down to it, there are so many possibilities of how loki is going to pass. It could be in front of him, in battle, of sickness, they could be realms apart; anything could happen, and the thought always terrifies thor

if loki actually dies and it’s in battle, the first thing thor is going to do is beg them to stand up and reveal it as an illusion 

that the fight is over and they’re okay they can get up now, that he won’t even get mad this time

the more gruesome/scarring the death, the more hysterically thor responds

thor holding his sibling’s body and literally crying for hours

electricity gathering in the air around them, storms rolling in that are the worst the region/world has seen and he just stays there cradling loki and apologising for not being able to keep them safe

if loki dies from illness or simple old age, thor is there the entire time and is helping them do even the most basic of tasks in hopes that the saving of energy will keep his sibling alive just a little longer

thor taking every jibe and mean word without trying to argue back because he’s just glad loki is still talking at that point

he still cries, so much, because losing his sibling was never going to not hurt

thor making sure to get loki a proper funeral on asgard, the way all their people are supposed to be honored

to welcome them home one last time, to have asgard see his sibling

and never in all his life will thor wish he could follow someone to whatever comes after death, mortal or immortal

[bookenders]

15 Questions Tag

I’ve let this one sit in my drafts for a long, loooong time. Tagged by @vhum ages ago - thanks! 

Rules: Pick a character from your WIP, and have them answer these 15 questions, then tag 15 people!

Bilbo Taggins: @abalonetea, @half-explored, @waterfallwritings, @kowlazovdi, @writinginslowmotion, @sundaynightnovels, @azawrites, @tricksexual, @leftover-starlight, @estroniaidwrites, @writing-every-other-star, @ink-and-petrichor, @writingonesdreams, @novel-scribe, @holotones

It’s finally time to introduce Fish Food’s antagonist: 

Nightmare!

[Interview provided after careful consideration and with the kind permission of The C.I.I.P.]

1. What is your full name?

Careful, dove, or you’ll find yourself at the bottom of somewhere dark and... cryptic.

2. What does your name mean, then?

That depends on how Biblical you want to get. Let’s just say it’s an old word.

As for my code name? I like to leave that up to the imagination.

3. What are your nicknames/other names?

I don’t like to get friendly with reporters.

Look how that turned out for all the comic book heroes. Wouldn’t want something to happen to you, now would we?

4. What’s your gender?

I use she/her pronouns, if that’s what you’re asking. Everyone knows gender is an institutionalized social construct with a meaningless binary.

But I’m a woman, if that wasn’t what you were asking, which, honestly, dear, it should’ve been.

5. What’s your sexuality?

I know this is important for some people to know, but it isn’t, in my case. You’d be surprised to know that my personal life is really pretty bland. Including the gentlemen I date in my free time.

6. Where are you from?

Not too far. I have ancestry in Ireland.

7. How old are you?

Be glad this isn’t in person, or you’d find out just how intrusive someone is allowed to be when I’m around.

I wonder what it’d be for you. Heights? Bats? Illness?

No. I’d put money on isolation and ignorance. Being a journalist, and all.

How close am I?

8. What is your magic form/What designation are you?

Grab a newspaper and see for yourself.

Our naming conventions are really quite simple and self-explanatory.

The Coalition has assigned me to the Manipulation Class with the Mental Power Set designation. Not very creative, if you ask me.

9. What does your human form look like?

Why do you think I wear a mask, honey? Not to hide these cheekbones, that’s for sure.

10. What’s your aesthetic?

I do a good job at not being caught by cameras, don’t I? But there’s always a slip every so often. I think there’s one photograph out there of me turning around a street corner. You can see the back of my head - mask, I mean - and my left foot. Dark boots, dark hood, dark half-mask. Red everything else.

Not very inventive, I know. C.I.I.P. really needs to step up on the costumes front, if you ask me.

Outside of work, I’m one of those flowery, kimono-wearing hippy dippy young ladies. Like a farmer’s market hipster who actually gives a crap about the environment. 

I wear pink even though it clashes with my hair because what’s life without a little conflict, huh?

[A:NTMR59 - meeting scheduled with C:DRCTR - see comm attachment]

11. Who’s your best friend?

Again, dear, remember the comic book characters.

But there is someone I talk to every once in a while. Not as much as I used to, though. Since I started with the Council, I’ve been quite occupied. I try to make time for a call every few weeks or so. They’re good people. 

Good people deserve friends who can be there.

12. Would you ever get a piercing/tattoo?

Once upon a time, maybe. Now, though? No way in hell. It’s actually banned, as per my contract.

13. When are you happiest?

I [REDACTED] two weekends every month. It’s also in my contract that I get that time off unless there’s an emergency or unavoidable event. 

[Be careful, A:NTMR59.]

14. What’s your biggest secret?

I love dogs. I’m also a literal small town girl, but I think the dogs thing is more important.

15. Do you have a sidekick?

I‘m one of the few villains who never had a henchperson. My power set isn’t conducive to outside help. In the beginning, when I was fresh, they might’ve gotten caught in the crossfire. And we generally don’t like hurting our own team members.

(Yeah, I know the general term is “henchmen” but come on, we live in the goddamn future. I stand by whoever graffitis the Coalition posters and paints over “mankind” with “stop it you Biffs.”)

+1. After so many years spent avoiding the press and living under the radar, what made you accept this offer to interview with a local reporter?

It’s important to support local businesses. 

Everyone else got to do one, so why shouldn’t I have the same chance? It’s not like people are beating down my door to ask me personal questions.

Outside of the COH interrogators, I mean.

Lovely bunch.

xxx,

Nightmare

[Tag List and WIP Info under the cut:]

WIP Intro Post | FF WIP Tag | WIP Page | PowerPoint Intro

Character Tags: Iron Will | Overseer | Lithium | Babylon | Nightmare | Sparkplug

OC Intro Post:  Phase 1 | Phase 2

Individual Intros:

Phase 1 (Main Cast): Iron Will | Overseer | Lithium |  Babylon | Nightmare

Phase 2 (Supporting Cast): Sparkplug | Battalion | Ferro

***

[Let me know if you want to be added or removed!]

Fish Food Tag List:  @theevolutionofledarose, @kriss-the-writing-nerd, @quilloftheclouds, @waterfallwritings, @dontwritethatone, @aeschknight, @abalonetea, @ladywithalamp, @writevevo, @danger-writes, @disfunctionaldeity-writes, @sunlight-and-starskies, @writing-every-other-star, @shadeshadow234, @jaimistoryteller, @leave-her-a-tome

[yukipri]

YOI Future!Verse ABO AU, Visual Headcanon Web Charts #01

So I always wanted to make one of these. Turns out my headcanons for the most part are WAY too wordy for these things and uh, they’re a bit of a mess >.>;; BUT I hope nonetheless that they’re somewhat fun to read even if barely legible, it was fun to make ^ ^;

1. Super basic relationship chart of the core members of the lovely poly family in this AU.

2. “Adults Think,” the color of each adult indicates their feelings towards the person to whom the arrow is pointing.

3. “Kids Think,” the color of each OC kid indicates their feelings towards the person to whom the arrow is pointing.

There’s obviously a lot more to it than what could be crammed in the lil text boxes, but a gist and pretty much the first things that immediately popped into my mind regarding their interactions. 2 and 3 also mostly show their thoughts while the kids are younger, which will change a bit as they grow up, to be covered in a future post.

*Recommended you right click view image to see full size bc the text is tiny oops

Because the text is so illegible, text only versions of charts 2 and 3 beneath cut, all elaborated quite a bit because I’m so rambly oops:

~~

IF YOU ARE NEW TO THIS AU: It’s Yuuri-centric polyamory in an ABO setting, Yuuri’s married to four mates (Victor, Yurio, Phichit, Minami) and they have OC kids.

BASICS of this AU

INTRO to how ABO works in this AU

OTHER POSTS (comics + illustrations) in the Future!Verse ABO section of my YOI Masterpost.

~~

Please keep ship bashing out of the comments/tags. Don’t like, just skip <3 Thank you.

~~

PLEASE DO NOT REPOST, EDIT, OR OTHERWISE USE MY ART WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT PERMISSION. More detailed rules available on my Rules & FAQ Post.

~~

Yuuri thinks:

Victor: Vitya I love you but there are some things I REALLY wish you wouldn’t encourage with the kids, I don’t care if you could do it when you were younger it’s terrifying!!

Yurio: Yura, how does it feel now that the kids all think you’re older than me? NO don’t use this as an excuse to call me baby-faced!!

Phichit: PHICHIT please knock some sense into the others, you’re my only hope!--NO don’t just sit back and laugh! I was counting on you!

Minami: Kenjirou, you’re my student and husband NOT my butler, I can get my own bags thank you very much.

Yasha: Darling you can wear whatever you want but PLEASE wear SOMETHING under that dress the old ladies at the park will never look at me the same again

Shura: You don’t need to try so hard to be a rebel, and you also don’t need to spoil Yasha so much. Just tell him no, he’ll deal.

Arisa: Darling it’s amazing that you can do that and I’m so proud of you but please don’t hack the neighbor’s security system again, it’s very hard to explain to them that my toddler was just stretching her intellectual curiosity.

Yuuji: Yuuji, your smile warms my weary soul and I’m sure you’ll inevitably be a little trouble maker too but let me be in denial a bit longer.

Victor thinks:

Yuuri: It’ll be fun, they can handle it, please don’t look at me like that, I’m (pretty) sure they’ll be okay...

Yurio: You may seem like the more responsible parent but you’ll always be my cute bratty student. Now that my seniority is less obvious though, I’m comfortable making you indulge my own brattiness too. what do you mean you were always forced to indulge my brattiness

Phichit: You may act like the most reasonable parent but I see through you--and I’m proud. We’re startlingly alike if I’m honest. Let’s conquer the world.

Minami: You may be a bratty puppy but I rest easy knowing you’re always be Yuuri’s side. Couldn’t ask for a more loyal or dangerous watch dog. Don’t worry I do think of you as human, really.

Yasha: Trust me, I know how fun it can be to tease your brother but take it easy sometime, yes? I love you having fun but it hurts my soul to see Shura have red eyes so often...though yes I do admit that’s cute too OTL

Shura: Sweet child, come here, did Yasha make you cry again? Daddy will give you all the hugs. Don’t run away just because Yasha’s in my other arm!

Arisa: I feel like your adorable eyes are judging me...and guess what, they’re still adorable!! It’s okay, you can judge me all you want! *HUGS*

Yuuji: I have dropped the dishes so many times because it looked like you wanted a hug...I can’t help it...you’re like, a super mini Yuuri...

Yurio thinks:

Yuuri: OI Katsudon, I made this new food thing, try it, am I better than Phichit yet? YEAH NO I know I won’t ever be a better all rounder than him but...what, it’s really good? W-W-WELL OF COURSE IT IS I KNEW THAT HA HA HA *flees*

Victor: I’m mature enough now to recognize what a brat you can be, not that I didn’t already know but--HEY DON’T LAUGH THAT WASN’T PERMISSION

Phichit: Okay FINE I admit I need your help...stop looking so smug! Yes, ugh, fuck that’s clever, alright I know (fuck it’s worse because he’s genuine and never follows up with “I told you so”)

Minami: YOU HAVE SOME NERVE CALLING ME YOUR RIVAL JUST BECAUSE YOU WON GOLD OVER ME TWICE, it was all thanks to Yuuri! NO I’m not being overly conscious of you as a competitor, ugh FINE I admit your skating really impresses me but FUCK YOU

Yasha: Brat, did you just...make me run around the house five times for no reason at all?? UGH I’m not even mad, I’m too tired and too used to this, it’s my own fault for falling for it every time...

Shura: What do you MEAN “I bet you cried a lot when you were a kid too,” don’t say that to me while CRYING like ugh FINE will it make you feel better if I said I did??? Please stop crying I don’t want you to cry OTL

Arisa: Risa, I don’t want to suspect you, but I have a hunch you might be the one putting the twins up to mischief and I think you’re still too young and I want to think you’re as pure and innocent as you look but...dare I trust my instincts on this...

Yuuji: YUUJI YOU EASE YOUR FATHER’S WEARY SOUL how are you so pure you seem to make my adult exhaustion melt away...

Phichit thinks:

Yuuri: Perks of marrying your BFF: know just the perfect amount to pamper and also to tease. And also know all the deepest darkest secrets you’re too embarrassed to tell your other mates. Shh it’s okay they’ll never hear it from me ;D

Victor: We had some rough moments early on but you’re a good guy, Victor. I recognize our compatibility. Let’s conquer the world together and present it to Yuuri.

Yurio: I’ll look after you, not-so-lil Russian, you leave your troubles to me. I know how vulnerable you can be and I see you as my own now.

Minami: Kenjirou may act like a super groupie but he has it together better than most of us. I trust him to still prioritize Yuuri even in situations where the rest of us are emotionally compromised, which gives me the confidence to go full offense.

Yasha: Oh, you say someone’s picking on Shura at school? Okay, so here’s what you do, and here’s how to pin the blame on someone else because we wouldn’t want Yuuri to be called to school yeah?

Shura: Your brother’s picking on you again? But you don’t want him to stop either? Well then, how should we solve this? Oops is he a future masochist to Yasha’s sadist...

Arisa: I see what you did there, very clever, I’m proud! But if Yuuri found out he’d have a heart attack, so let’s not do that again, okay? Here’s something even more difficult for you to try to figure out...

Yuuji: Yuuji sweetheart I know making Victor drop dishes is funny but Yuuri likes those dishes, one last time ‘kay? You can make him do other things equally amusing but slightly less destructive of our collective family property.

Minami thinks:

Yuuri: Y-Y-Yuuri-san, NO I still can’t take the honorific off, I RESPECT YOU TOO MUCH plus it makes it feel that much more intimate in bed *turns brilliant red to match his hair streak*

Victor: Victor look at what I taught the twins!! Aren’t they absolutely amazing?! They’re going to break all of your records! And I can tell you’re not even upset :’D

Yurio: I never mentioned rivalry, you were the one who used that word first? ;3 But in all honesty, it’s an honor to be considered the rival of Yuuri-san’s rival so I’ll fight my hardest to not let that title go to shame.

Phichit: The fact that you are both fun and terrifying is not news to me, I’m glad you’re my family and not my enemy. I’ve seen what you can do to your enemies. Participated too, actually he he.

Yasha: You and your bro are perfect angels and I’ll show you all the cool skating things! I’m so happy your enthusiasm hasn’t died as you’ve grown older <3

Shura: It’s good to cry! Cry all you want! I’ll cry with you too! It can be a real sobfest! And then Yuuri can bring us tissues and then it can be a snotfest! Whoo!!

Arisa: DARLING CHILD you are the sweetest and you’d never do anything naughty, I have not a clue what the others are talking about. *genuine*

Yuuji: *SOBBING*

Yasha thinks:

Yuuri: MOM IS THE BEST AND MINE, YOU CAN’T HAVE HIM, and that includes all you dads so back off ;P

Victor: Dad is weak to puppy eyes and will give me anything I want. His affection can sometimes be stifling, but I love him nonetheless.

Yurio: Dad always gets flustered really easily and it’s fun to test his boundaries. And push them. And break them. But he never snaps, I think he’s getting stronger...

Phichit: The really smart dad who sees through all the pranks but still plays along, even intentionally lets me finish playing my pranks on him. It’s a bit annoying even if I appreciate it. I gotta up my game.

Minami: Ken-chan’s the BEST and he and mum are gonna kick dads’ (Victor + Yurio) asses in the next competition. I’ll cheer for dads too but Ken-chan’s No. 1!

Shura: He’s fun to make cry because he gets riled up, but the best part is the comforting that I get to do afterwards because no matter how mean I am he still comes running <3

Arisa: I’d beat you up if you hurt my sister, except she’d do it first and better than I ever could so I’ll just be prepared and bring the popcorn and watch from the front row, maybe help with clean up.

Yuuji: He’s not as innocent as he looks but you won’t hear it from me. Let the others live in denial, come to the dark side in your own time lil bro.

Shura thinks:

Yuuri: I want mum’s attention but Yasha hogs it, but mum’s the best so he makes time for me too and not just for selfish jerks like Yasha. Even if I have to share. It’s okay. I love how mum loves everyone all the same.

Victor: Dad spoils me rotten but he’s not a good shield against Yasha because he also spoils Yasha rotten. He spoils everyone. It’s okay tho, dad has a lot of spoiling to go around.

Yurio: Dad sorta gets picked on too and I sympathize...it makes me feel better knowing he was probably just like me when he was younger. The hard part is getting him to admit it, but that’s what other parents are for.

Phichit: Dad holds the answers to life and the universe in his magic smartphone. He has yet to fail to answer a single question but I’ll keep trying.

Minami: Ken-chan always plays with us even when he’s busy and shows us all the cool skating things! I didn’t get why he wasn’t dad too when Yasha and I were younger, but I’m glad that’s fixed now, though I still can’t shake the habit of calling him Ken-chan.

Yasha: He makes me cry and is such a JERK but I can’t stand to be away from him, it makes me so anxious, and he gives good hugs too so I forgive him (am I being too easy on him...)

Arisa: I want to say I protect her but it’s honestly the other way around, the best I can do is make sure she doesn’t hurt herself because she’s really reckless and it’s TERRIFYING, I sympathize with mom...

Yuuji: PLEASE DON’T STEP ON MY LIL BRO, HE IS VERY SMOL, he looks like he would go squish with one step! Risa wasn’t this smol?? What do you mean I’m bigger now so my sense of size is biased...?

Arisa thinks:

Yuuri: I’m going to protect mum. He doesn’t need it, at all, but I can do it so I will.

Victor: Dad acts gullible but I’m not fooled. He’s weak to puppy eyes though, that’s for real. And I have the best puppy eyes, or second to Yuuji. I’m okay being second to Yuuji.

Yurio: Dad’s trying really hard but he’s also really gullible so I can’t help but tease him. It’s okay I won’t be too mean, and I’ll even reign Yasha back some.

Phichit: Dad knows I’m smart and will protect my bros so he gives me the tools and education to do so. I don’t think mum and my other dads know just quite how much but it’s okay. We’re not hiding it on purpose.

Minami: If you hurt Ken-chan, I’ll knock your teeth out. I’d say “with my fists,” but I don’t think I can reach. It’s okay, I’m creative.

Yasha: My partner in crime, he’ll follow my orders even if they’re impossible and will somehow make it work. Because Yasha’s a miracle-worker and I believe in him.

Shura: The only ones who can make him cry are me and Yasha. But we do it a lot. Which means he has no more tears for anyone else. Back off or I’ll make you disappear : )

Yuuji: He is my squishy smol. He’s smaller than me! He never complains when I hug him and squish his cheeks until they turn red, and then I feel a bit bad...

Yuuji thinks:

Yuuri: Mum is the best! He gives me a lot of attention because I’m the youngest, but I kinda want a younger sibling too. Dads always hush me when I try to bring it up and I don’t really get why.

Victor: Dad spoils me rotten and I kinda feel bad because he never says no to me (or any of us), but when I mention it he gets all teary eyed and spoils me worse...^ ^;

Yurio: Dad is too paranoid about my safety. I’ll be big and strong like the others too! Just wait! Look how big dad is, I’ll be that tall one day too. What do you mean, that’s not how genetics works?

Phichit: Dad makes the best food, I wish he were home more often...I know he’s busy with his ice show in Thailand and it’s really really cool but I miss him...

Minami: Dad says he hit his growth spurt late, because he presented late. I BELIEVE! I won’t be smol forever!

Yasha: Yasha-nii has really good instincts and is there when I need him. It’s like he has a special radar and then brings the whole cavalry. So I don’t need to worry about going anywhere by myself--what do you mean, I shouldn’t be wandering off in the first place??

Shura: Shura-nii got picked on again, it’s okay, here’s a cookie I made with Yuri-dad and here’s a hug, I have short arms but love power!

Arisa: She’s my favorite sister! Even if she’s my only one! She gets really proud when I say it and I’m happy she’s happy so I say it a lot.

[xxxdragonfucker69xxx]

chuubo’s marvelous wizardry engine

A Frantic Knight Arc

Young Wizard is a miraculous Knight Arc. It’s meant to model a specific kind of wizardry: specifically, that from Diane Duane’s Young Wizards series. Wizardry revolves around the use of the Speech, a magical language that everything in the universe (and outside it!) can understand and speak. Wizards are sworn to defend Life, in all its forms, against the Lone Power, who invented death and wishes (approximately) to destroy everything that exists.

[If you are finding this through the young wizards tag and are confused: Chuubo’s Marvelous Wish-Granting Engine is a tabletop rpg, and this is some content for it. I recommend it!]

Talk to the World (Arc 0)

Type: Imperial

Cost: --

This is, sort of, a wish: that words can, eventually, change anything.

That talking, and listening, are an answer to any problem.

It compels anyone who opposes you to hang on a second, drop their sword, and give you a chance to explain yourself. It requires that even the Lone Power, who hates all things bright and beautiful, who could crack your skull like an eggshell with a look and a thought -- that he hear you out.

He doesn’t have to agree with you. Once you’ve laid yourself bare to him, or to Principal Entropy, or to your mom who’s mad that you haven’t taken out the trash, he can think about your speech and decide that it’s wrong and get back to killing you and unmaking the world.

But he -- the HG playing him, or the PC playing whoever you’re in conflict with -- has to listen. Has to consider. Has to answer you first.

The Oath (Arc 1)

Type: Level 2 Bond

Cost: --

You have sworn, in your own idiom, to fight for and guard and guide and love Life. While you uphold that oath, nothing can take wizardry from you.

Invoke The Oath when something attempts to nullify, remove or cancel your miraculous or magical powers. You can overcome an Obstacle this way or add +2 to your intention.

Invoke The Oath when you use miraculous powers to undo such an obstacle or effect, for yourself and others. You can add +2 Strike to such a miracle, though this doesn’t stack with Strike from other Bonds.

Invoke The Oath when you are constrained by it -- not to kill when there is another option, not to strike first, not to change others without their permission -- and you can get up to 2 MP or Will.

The Speech (Arc 1+)

Type: Magical Skill

Cost: --

If you have a spare slot, you receive a free Magical Speech Perk. This is a Skill that has several levels: at Obstacle 1, talk to any sentient thing; at Obstacle 2, talk to any living thing; at Obstacle 3, talk to any inanimate thing you can see and touch; at Obstacle 4+, possibly talk to intangible or spiritual things. This is similar to Spirit-Speaker, the Spiritual miracle: fire is probably willing to burn in a different direction, or maybe even extinguish itself, but not to float in midair and make funny faces. That’s not something fire does!

The Speech also offers something of a fringe benefit: you can emote with anything you can talk to. Really, you could do this normally, but instead of emoting to a friend or yourself, you can emote to the waves as you sit on the beach, or to a rock you’ve found on the moon. And it’ll emote back.  

Special Friend (Arc 1)

Type: Miraculous Action

Cost:

0MP -- 1/scene invoke your specialty over a few minutes

1MP -- use this power again in the chapter, or invoke something that is not your specialty, or invoke your specialty instantly

2MP -- Invoke something that is not your specialty instantly

You have a particularly good relationship with some part of the world. It could be an element, like earth or fire or machines, or it could be something a little more out there, like the future or dreams or healing.

For you, it will do things that are impressive or impossible. For Special Friend, fire will dance in the air or make funny faces. That’s what it does, for you!

Alternately, you can ask something that isn’t your specialty to do impressive and impossible things for you. Even the most devoted geomancer can, with a little effort, talk to storms and fire and superstring knots. But this costs more, and usually faces a higher Obstacle.

Rename (Arc 2)

Signature Wizardry (Arc 2)

Type: Major Miraculous Action

Cost:

0MP -- starting mid-scene, invoke this power 1-2x/scene

2MP -- starting mid-scene, invoke this power as often as you’d like

You have written a wizardry that you have memorized: a portable muon accelerator (read: death ray), a sunbeam that you’ve crystallized to use as a spear, or a spell to make nuclear reactors react unfavorably. You can use the Speech with this wizardry for this specific purpose; if you do so, it becomes a Major Miraculous Action. You may have a number of such wizardries up to your Arc Trait.

The High Road (Arc 2)

Type: Special?

Cost:

1MP: Over the course of a few minutes, open a gate to somewhere specific 1/chapter

0MP: 1/book, go somewhere you need to be

Wizardry deals with a multitude of worlds; not only Earth and the Earthlike, but alien planets and dimensions. The Crossings, an interstellar shopping mall/transit hub, is one of these, but so are places like Tir na nOg and Timeheart. (If you’re aiming to integrate this with canon Chuubo’s, these are possibly places that can be reached by crossing Outside.) Sometimes, it even deals with different times (though more often places in the “past” are in some kind of hazy half-timeline that could have happened or will be revealed to have happened all along, so that you don’t need to worry too hard about paradoxes).

The High Road allows you to reach one of these places. It can, at its most mundane, open a portal between two places in the same world: between your fridge and your friend’s, for example, so you can steal his sister’s favorite sodas. Often, it is used to go to the Crossings and pick up some blue food, or to undertake some serious business on Mars. Sometimes, it simply takes you where you need to go; either somewhere you are needed, or somewhere you can get the help you need. Often both at once.

This is a blurry power, and a dangerous one. Once you’ve gone, you can’t come back until you’re done, even if you invoke The High Road yourself. And if you use this to get out of a sticky situation or cast around for a solution, there’s every possibility you’ll end up in even more trouble instead. But there are two guarantees you can count on:

That you will always have the chance to come back, eventually, and that you will get something out of it.

Even if you end up on a world at the edge of the galaxy where a sentient computer race is crying to be born, or stranded in the middle of an alien invasion, you’ll come back with something: a psychic link to superfast mobile computer children, or shopping vouchers for the mall you helped save, or a personal epiphany that lets you unlock hidden powers.

Ordeal (Arc 2)

Type: Imperial Miracle, Ritual Power

Cost: 0MP -- once per book, invoke the Ordeal

The devil works in mysterious ways. The Lone Power often prefers to hide at the bottom of the soul, whispering hatred and greed and misery into the hearts of -- well, everyone. But you can force it to come meet you on your own ground.

This power functions as two related wishes, kind of. The first wish is: that whatever is lost, is not lost in vain. The second wish is what brings on the Ritual: that the enemy would appear to me.

And it does. The evil king is revealed as a facade, the troublesome devil’s advocate is cast aside as an empty shell. The Lone Power appears before you, tall and dark and beautiful. The Ordeal begins (or its climax does, anyways).

The HG begins by describing the Lone Power in his terrible glory. When the spotlight comes to you, take a ritual action:

Greet him and state your intent to oppose him (the traditional words being Fairest and Fallen, greetings and defiance! but you can put a little personal spin on it),

Use Talk to the World and tell him why he’s wrong,

Return from The High Road just in time (obviously, you can only do this i you were somewhere else),

Describe what you have lost, and what that sacrifice has gained you,

Take any of the actions under Making Answer to the Bleak, in response to the Lone Power and everything it stands for.

After everyone has gone at least once, the Lone Power will probably start trying to kill you.

Special Friend, Powered Up (Arc 3)

Type: Miraculous Action, Major

Cost: 4MP

At Arc level 3, the work of your Special Friend becomes Major, and can be used on a major scale: pull up the entire ocean to hit someone over the head, or pitch a black hole into the sun.

A New Cousin (Arc 3)

Type: Imperial? Bond?

Cost: --?

When you take the High Road to somewhere you are needed, you can bring a friend back with you; someone from there, who still belongs there, but has agreed to come here and repay the help you gave them. Such a friend often becomes a recurring character, and if anyone in your PC group has this then one or more of those PCs may have met each other through this.

Ordeal, Powered Up (Arc 4)

Type: Imperial

Cost --

At Arc level 4 the reach of your wish increases, should you manage to survive and defeat the Lone Power, the echo of that victory will ripple throughout the world. The darkness will be brighter, the hateful will be more loving. You may define a Region Property -- something like people starve in the shadow of riches or people never get exactly what they want -- that the Lone Power has been enforcing on the world. Then you strike it out. Once our old enemy reforms, he will probably put it back, but until then, the world is a little better.

Advisory (Arc 5)

Type: ????

Cost: ???

You have enough experience to become a mentor to other Young Wizards. You take responsibility for an area, usually geographic but possibly political or social, and you become aware of problems in that area: interventions that other wizards are performing, natural or artificial disasters in danger of forming, and the action of the Lone Power upon the world. You can, as you see fit, ask wizards to solve a particular problem.

again, not entirely happy with this one. i really dont know cmwge well enough, and i spent most of the time writing this under the impression that it was purple and not orange. nor do i really have a good diegetic grasp on what’s part of the main characters’ personal journeys and what’s endemic to being a wizard. but i will say that kit is on Become Somebody and nita is probably on ... Creature of the Light? maybe shes more on this arc. ronan is on Wounded Angel, bless him

[jaxssecretroom]

Insomnia pt.2

Type: Angst, Fluff, (maybe some light smut in the future)

Pairing: Chanyeol X reader, Xiumin X reader (might change as the story goes on?)

TW:Mentions of rape

College!au

Word count: 1,8k

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

You stood in front of your bathroom mirror desperately trying to make your ponytail look halfway decent. You didn’t mind your work outfit that much, but the fact that you had to wear your hair in a tight ponytail with a hat that looked like it belonged on a doll and not a grown person kinda bothered you.

You put on the short-sleeved white button up shirt, the olive green skirt that was almost too short, and finally the black apron. Not really something you enjoyed wearing in the cold autumn weather. You grabbed the raincoat from the hook next to the door in one hand, and your umbrella in the other and headed out.

You went in through the back entrance, as always.

“Hey Y/N, your here early” Earl, the main cook and your boss, greeted you with his crooked smile. He was a good boss. He cared for all of his employees and insisted on only hiring college students like yourself. This would sometimes bring in creeps who were much older than the employees but still thought, for whatever reason, they might “get some”. And these men would always be there during your shifts since you mostly worked nights.

“Just being a diligent worker” you smiled back. “So, what do you think? Will it be a busy night?” You struggled to put that damn hat on.

“Nope. But you do have customers in booth 5.” Nicki, the day waitress who was just getting of her shift answered. You finally got the hat to stay on.

“Just fix your name tag sweetie” You looked down at your name tag and realized it was upside down. “Oh, thanks Nicki” you fumbled with it until it was in place.

 “Bye boss, bye Y/N” she said as she made here way out the back, you and Earl waving goodbye. 

You made sure once again your uniform was on properly and made your way out of the kitchen. Nicki was right, it didn’t look like it was gonna be a busy night. The diner was mostly empty except two girls studying in booth 1, which was on the right-hand corner, and a group of guys in booth 5, in the left-hand corner. Since you could see the girls were already served you walked over to the other group. You were amused when you saw that one of the guys was Minseok.

 “So, you’re stalking me now?” Minseok looked up and seemed to be genuinely surprised by your presence. 

 “No, actually we live across the street. If anything, you’re the one stalking me.” He smiled and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms. The other two guys were obviously confused by the interaction. 

 “Guys, this is the girl whose room we broke into last night, Y/N.” He gestured towards you and the other men just sat there, frozen, not knowing what to say. You could see the guilt in their eyes.

 “So these are your partners in crime huh?” you shot them each a smile and they seemed to relax. They were both handsome, and even tho one of them was wearing a sweater and the other a hoodie you could just tell they were well built. 

“Yeah, this is Yixing” he gestured towards the taller of the two with a cute dimple in his smile. “ and Joonmyeon, the mastermind behind the plan” he gestured towards the one who was wearing the sweater. You could see Joonmyeon shoot Minseok a ‘wtf man’ look and you laughed. This whole situation was so bizarre. 

“Look we are really sorry, we had no idea-” Joonmyeon started.

 “No, it’s okay, really. Minseok explained everything.” You reassured them. “So what can I get you?” you asked tapping your little pad with your pen.

 “What do you recommend?” Yixing asked smiling at you.

 “Well, Dimples, since you asked…” you heard Minseok let out a laugh. “My personal favorite is the peanut butter chicken” you said, pointing at the menu with your pen. None of them really seemed impressed by your suggestion.

 “Why are you asking for recommendations? I thought you lived across the street, this can’t be your first time eating here.”

 “Hey, don’t I didn’t lie” Minseok immediately defended himself.

 “Actually it is my first time eating here. I don’t know about them.” Yixing explained. You nodded and wrote down their orders. Joonmyeon ordered the spicy wings, Yixing the hamburger, and Minseok the special of the day.

 As they were leaving that night they left you with a pretty generous tip and about a million apologies. After that time they came to the diner a lot more often, and mostly during your shift. They always sat in the same booth, and always ordered the same things: the spicy wings, a hamburger and the daily special. And every time you’d tease them about their failed break-in attempt. But that was it, you couldn’t really call them friends since you never hung out with them. They were just regulars at the diner. 

 Then the night that ‘it’ happened.

 They came in as usual, but this time the diner was much busier. All the tables, but one, were taken. Since you worked alone serving the people at the tables you didn’t really have time joke around with the guys that time. You didn’t even take their order since you knew exactly what they would get. As you were bringing them their food you stopped to give a man, who had come alone, his order, a black coffee. 

You put the coffee and the receipt on his table, and smiled like you always did at customers. As you were leaving you felt someone grab your ass. It was unexpected. You quickly turned around and the man winked at you. He winked at you. You felt disgusted and angry but you didn’t know how to react. 

So you just turned around and headed towards the guys’ table. Minseok had seen what happened and he was coming your way. You had never seen him angry, but you had a feeling that this was as angry as he gets. His fist was clenched, teeth gritting. You realized what his intention was and blocked his path.

“Don’t.” You said quietly, hoping nobody else could hear you. He looked you in the eyes and his expression softened. You felt your stomach turn. Was he really willing to hurt somebody for touching your ass without permission?

“Anybody would do that Y/N. Don’t think too much of it.” You thought to yourself.

You walked back to his table together.

 “You should have let beat the living crap out of him” he said as you placed the bowl of spaghetti in front of him.

 “What happened?” Yixing and Joonmyeon asked simultaneously. 

 “Nothing. Forget about it Minseok.” you walked away before he could protest.

 It wasn’t long before the diner started emptying out. You would catch the man staring at you a couple of times. He didn’t look like a creep. He looked like the average man who was in his late 20s. You would also occasionally catch Minseok staring at you, and his anger didn’t seem to be growing weaker. But eventually the guys finished eating and were about to leave. You said goodbye to Yixing and Joonmyeon, but had to practically kick Minseok out. He didn’t want to leave and insisted on walking you home after work. But you still had 4 hours in your shift and you didn’t want to make him wait.

 The first two hours went by fast. Earl asked if you could lock up tonight because he had to go home early. You did really mind doing this, so you agreed and he gave you his spare key. You looked at the time and it was half past midnight. Just an hour and a half until closing time. But the man, he was still there. Still sipping on his coffee. You had refilled his cup 4 times already. He had been sitting there for almost 4 hours and he was making you nervous. You could feel him staring at you. That’s why you felt so relieved when he left 30 minutes to closing time. He just took his coat, left a 20$ bill on the table and left. 

 By the time it was time to lock up the diner had long been empty. You cleaned the floor and made sure all the tables were wiped. You said goodbye to the other workers and locked the main entrance after them. You headed out the back and locked the door after yourself.

As you were putting the key in your purse you thought you heard someone breathing heavily. This made you nervous, because the dark alley was already creepy enough. 

Someone grabbed you, pushing you roughly against the wall. Your breath hitched when youn saw it was the man from the diner. He was stalking you, like a lion would a prey. He was waiting for you so he could do this.

‘‘You-’‘ he put his hand over your mouth so you couldn’t scream. You knew exactly what his intentions were, but you didn’t want to believe it.  His hands felt rough against your soft lips. And the fear kicked in, paired with anger both at your attacker and yourself. Why didn’t you just let Minseok walk you home? Why didn’t you ask one of your coworkers to wait for you? Why did you agree to lock up? This was your fault for not noticing that the guy was obviously dangerous.

“Just don’t fight it and don’t scream” he whispered in your ear and the small hairs on the back of your neck stood up. You felt a warm tear stream down your face. You pushed him with all your strength. He stumbled back for a moment but before you knew it his hands were around your neck. You felt a shriek leave your throat and hoped it was loud enough for someone to hear. Anyone. He was much stronger than he seemed and you quickly felt your mind going blank and vision going black.

Like a prayer answered you found yourself gasping for air as his hands disappeared from your neck. You weren’t quite sure what was happening but you found yourself on the ground with a sharp pain in your temple. You tried desperately to see what was going on but your vision was blurry and your head was pounding.

“Hey, miss are you okay?!”

“Y/N!!”

A/N: I didn’t proof read this one. Hope you guys liked it ٩(♡ε♡ )۶. Thanks for reading.

[thewhiterabbit42]

On The Edge

Summary: While Sam and Dean try to beat Lucifer to Cas and Kelly, you’re left behind with Crowley who isn’t acting like himself. 

Pairing: Crowley x Reader

Word count: 6975 

Warnings/Tags: smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up folks), foreplay, ummm, filth? (Jesus, how did Crowley come out with tamer tags than Gabe?) a little bit of everything as far as feels go.

Written for my 100/200 follower celebration  

Requested by: @devilsnevercry1388 Quote: “This must be what going mad feels like.” Kink:  Surprise Sex

Author’s Note:  The poetry Crowley uses is from Part II of Rime of the Ancient Mariner by Samuel Taylor Coleridge.  They are my absolute favorite lines from that entire piece and just jumped into my head as I was writing this.  

Special thanks to: To my wonderfully amazing beta @sumara62, aka my Jedi Master wise in ways of the force and the comma.  You don’t just catch my mistakes, you help me bring to life what I’m trying to convey and I am grateful you know what my wordy ass is trying to say ;)   I also want to thank the lovely @blondecoffeecake for keeping my muse fed and helping me take a direction in this story when I got stuck.  Oh, and extra thanks for the future crack fic.  Probably coming around Christmas.  

***Please do not repost or copy my work to any other site without my permission.  Giving credit does NOT count.***

The world sits on the edge of a precipice, the Winchesters scrambling to keep it from toppling over.  You, on the other hand, sit back at the bunker, arguing with a rather pissed off Crowley who does not like having his hand attached to the furniture.  Not that you blame him.  You’d be a little miffed if your friends got a little stabby as well.  

It doesn’t matter how many times you tell Dean not to leave you with the king of Hell.  You might as well be telling him that one day Sam will die.  It skitters across his radar before he deftly bats it far out into the stratosphere where reminders of his own mortality have taken up residence.  For the most part, you’ve been able to avoid any close, direct contact, but everyone’s luck has to run out sometime.   

You just hope yours is the only one that does today.    

The problem isn’t that you don’t like Crowley or you think he’s a danger.  It’s that you don’t know how you feel about him.  The last few years have been especially confusing, the boundaries blurring between ally and enemy, and he’s taken to walking that fine line of cooperation until it benefits him to step off again.  The uncertainty puts you in dangerous territory, walking something equally as thin and fragile and you don’t know anyone in their right mind who would want to star in a tightrope act without having a safety net in place. 

Yet, out the door your friends run, though you can’t be mad at them.  Not only are they trying to stop the devil and save the world, but leaving you behind is their way of protecting you.  Leaving Crowley, however, is the one thing they are doing to cover their own hides, and you can’t blame them after the secrets the demon has kept.   

Though it does leave you with a royal pain in the ass.    

“Crowley, we’ve been over this…”  

Over.  And over.  And over… to the point where you’re one nerve away from finding a spell that will seal his mouth, temporarily or otherwise.  He cocks a brow as if he’s heard that and you wonder how privy he really is to your thoughts and how much he just plays dumb.  

“You’re not their lap dog, you know,” he tells you.  You expect for there to be a hint of disdain accompanying the phrase, but there’s nothing, save that familiar rasp and something that pushes just beyond the fringe of neutrality.  

“You’re right,” you agree, though what you’re conveying is far different than the portrait of the undervalued sidekick he’s trying to paint.  “I’m not.”   

“You’re so much more than they give you credit for,” he continues as if you haven’t even spoken.  Then again, that’s Crowley.  When all the doors he’s tried are locked, he’s persistent enough to circle back around again to see if there’s any he’s missed.  

He’s never tried to pit you against the Winchesters before.  Then again, you’ve never been in his sights.  Just as you’ve always preferred to stay on the periphery during any dealings, he’s always seemed more than content to overlook your presence.   

There’s a heady moment as your eyes connect and there’s no doubt about where his attention is focused now.

“Always tucked away in their shadow, kept on the sidelines, and told to stay behind,” that touch of something in his tone grows louder, and you feel your stomach flutter beneath his unwavering stare.  “The truth is, they can hide you all they want and you’re still going to steal the show.  Every.  Single. Time.”

Your heart picks up a few extra beats and it’s a reminder of why you avoid him in the first place.  Your stomach also rumbles and the hunter in you reminds you there’s plenty of space between Crowley and the kitchen.  The woman, however, is starving in ways that go beyond not having eaten since that morning, and she is what makes you linger longer than you know is wise.

You expect a smug smile.  A little mocking amusement to round out the look.  Instead, he simply looks tired, worn in a way that’s beyond your understanding.  You wonder if it’s connected to the fact that you only have a single lifetime to endure when he’s had so many.  

You also wonder at what point timeless beings lose track of what number they’re on.

Whatever the look is, it’s not one he wears well, and he is most certainly wearing on you as he scrapes the bottom of the barrel trying to get beneath your skin. 

“Let me up, kitten,” his tone is lined with silk that caresses over you, ensnaring more than just your hearing.  The sudden nickname has you so distracted you almost step straight off the safety of that wire.  Despite the weariness that clings to his features, there’s an energy simmering beneath the surface.  Your instincts flare, warning you that something is off, and it’s enough to keep your feet firmly planted where they belong.  

“I can’t let you up,” your voice comes out a little more breathy than you intend, something that does not go unnoticed.   His gaze fixes more intently on you, becoming increasingly uncomfortable, and you unconsciously shift your weight.    

Whatever he’s selling, you don’t want any of it.  

You don’t even know how you feel about the fact he lied about Lucifer.  Is it betrayal churning in the pit of your stomach when you look at him?  Is it resistance to the hope that descends now that your anger has abated, insisting that he must have had his reasons?  Or is it possible you’re unnerved at how close you came to never seeing him again?  

If you’re being honest with yourself, you know which one it is.  Most days, however, you don’t like to be.  Today is no exception.  

You rise from your seat next to him, intention clear in the way your eyes drift to the door.  

“Wait,” he insists, his good hand shooting out to grab you by the wrist.  Electricity sparks beneath his touch and you almost gasp at the way it shoots up your arm.  It ricochets back down the length of you, sending smaller shockwaves off within your chest and stomach.  You’re not the only one that feels it and you watch as the darks of his eyes suddenly swallow the cinnamon flecks sprinkled around the centers.  It leaves only uncharted and vast green seas staring back at you.  

“I can’t do this, Crowley.”  

You’re not sure what this even is, only that you don’t intend to stick around to see what he has to say.  Surprisingly, he doesn’t stop you.  You slip through his grasp with ease, a final jolt sliding through you as his fingers trail lightly over your pulse before dropping away entirely.  You can’t even look at him as you leave the room, as you focus on simply getting away.

***

You try to eat something, but find yourself checking your phone more often than bringing food to your mouth, which only results in cold chicken and an even colder appetite.  You push your plate away, letting out a long, drawn out breath.  

You don’t like that you’re stuck here while your friends are off trying to outsmart the devil.  You don’t like how they feel more like family than your actual one does anymore and you’ve let them leave to defuse the most unstable nuke in existence without you.  You most certainly do not like the restless energy that thrums until you can’t sit still and your hands itch to do something other than press a button and tap a screen.  

Your options, however, remain limited.

You decide clearing the table and doing dishes is as good of one as any.  It won’t occupy your mind, but it will help keep your hands busy.  You let the water run as hot as it will go, using the scalding temperature to keep you grounded.  It’s not enough to drown out the buzzing on the edge of your senses that rises steadily, culminating in an electrifying crescendo.

It’s strange.  You can’t remember ever being this keyed up.  Not during the apocalypse.  Not even when Amara was on the brink of destroying existence.  Your friends have come back heroes from worse odds and yet you’re coming apart, stitch by unraveling stitch.  It’s more than that, though.  You feel as if you’re slowly stepping onto the wrong side of sane until even the simple task of washing silverware requires far more concentration than necessary.  

By the time you realize you’re not actually going crazy, it’s too late.  

He’s already there by the way the hair on the back of your neck stands on end and his presence crackles on the air.  It makes it harder to breathe, or maybe it’s just the sudden realization of how much trouble you’re in depending what side of the line Crowley decides he’s on.

“I’ve tried so hard to stop this from happening,” his smooth voice reaches out from across the room.  You have no idea what he’s talking about and with everything that’s happened, you’re not sure if you should be reaching for a weapon, running, or offering him a glass of scotch as a peace offering.

“Day after day, day after day, we stuck, nor breath nor motion…”  His voice starts as a murmur, words taking on a smooth, seductive cadence that speaks of something long-endured which rises palpably in the air around him.  

“As idle as a painted ship, upon a painted ocean…”

You’ve considered the possibility he went insane the moment he decided to alter the plan to put Lucifer back in the cage.  The fact that he’s speaking English but still not making a lick of sense is certainly not helping his case.  Then again, at least he’s saying something, since the only way you can track him is through his words.  

The way he moves, however, has instincts whispering with warning.  You recognize the feeling.  It echoes of cases that have slipped beyond your control and you immediately still.

“Water, water, everywhere,” he continues, his presence a slow stalk that inches closer and closer.  If you had to guess where he was, it would be just passing the kitchen table.   

“And all the boards did shrink…”  His voice reappears much nearer than that and he’s closing in faster than you anticipate.  “Water, water, everywhere…”  

The silence that lapses is deafening.  You’re on edge, ears straining, but the only sound you can make out is the rapid beating of your heart.  There’s a heady rush as the air around you becomes charged, thick, overwhelming to the point it’s almost suffocating.  

This time when he speaks, he’s close enough for his breath to ghost over the shell of your ear.

“Nor any drop to drink.”

His hands move to the counter on both sides of you, and you can only hope this is all just some elaborate plan to unnerve you and not actual insanity.  

“I have tried so hard to be good,” he murmurs, his nose pressing lightly against the back of your ear just before he inhales.  Deeply.  

The fact the king of Hell is smelling you right now suggests his eggs are, indeed, a little more scrambled than usual.

Your body is just as confused as your mind, adrenaline rushing out to combat the threat even as your stomach flutters with excitement.  Your hand, however, instinctively closes over a steak knife, the action hidden beneath the foamy layer of bubbles that sway across the water’s surface.  

You wonder how much of a head start you could get if you catch him someplace good with it.  

“Put the knife down.”  This is neither a suggestion nor a threat as if he, too, can hear that song of dissonance that often hums when he’s around.

You do as you’re told, the weapon slipping through your grasp before you pull your hands out and place them on the rim of the sink in plain sight. You know you’re caught.  The question is, what is he going to do with you?

“Turn around,” he instructs and, as with the knife, you have no choice but to obey.  He steps back, allowing you room to move and as soon as you do, you find yourself face to face with something unexpected.  

“Crowley?”  This isn’t just a question of what he’s doing.  You’re also wondering just who it is you’re looking at because the Crowley you know is many things.  Calm.  Collected.  Clever.  At least three steps ahead of everyone.  The man in front of you?  Looks like whatever thread of logic tying his plan together has become significantly frayed.   

The only time you’d seen him this out of sorts was when he’d been hit with a spell that melded his mind with his vessel’s until each personality was wrestling for dominance.  You can’t help but wonder if Lucifer had done more than just try to put him in the ground.  

“So this is what going mad feels like,” he remarks, and it’s the last thing you want to hear.  There’s an odd glow in his eyes, one that echoes with the same manic buzzing skittering between the small gap between your bodies.  You don’t know what it is, only that it leaves goosebumps racing across your skin in not an entirely unpleasant way.

“I’m worried about you.”  You pause, watching as the darks of his eyes swallow more color in response to your words.  “You’re not acting like yourself.”

“Or perhaps I am myself more than I’ve ever been,” he counters, his fingers caressing your cheek.  There’s an intimacy beneath his touch that has your eyes going wide, and once again your instincts are telling you to freeze.  He pushes your hair back from your face, tucking it behind your ear before fingertips dip down along the curve of your jaw.  That same electricity sparks again, this time jolting straight into your pulse until it’s forking through your system to the point your nerve endings are positively tingling.  

You do your best to ignore the rush of blood that accompanies it, though you’re aware most is rising to the the surface in a heated flush that is not just limited to your cheeks.

“What do you want?” How you manage to ask is beyond you.  Coherent thought is a concept swiftly abandoning you, as is your ability to take in any air.  

He smiles, and you have a feeling whatever he’s about to say is not going to bring you any relief.  

“Just a taste,” he insists, and there’s no doubt about what he’s after as his gaze drops to your lips.  He doesn’t wait for a response, his hand taking you by the chin to guide you toward him.  He does move slowly enough, however, to let you know he is asking.

The question, though, appears time limited.   

Your mind is present enough to understand this is a terrible, terrible idea, and it transfers that memo to your hands which fly up to his chest as he starts to lean in.  Pushing him away, however, is just as decisive as pulling him to you, and once again you cannot move, too scared to leave the safe confines of that careful line in either direction.  

It doesn’t stop his lips from meeting yours.  It doesn’t prevent the searing heat that unexpectedly blossoms beneath the contact.  It most certainly is not stopping it from unfurling across your cheeks, creeping down the length of you or melding with that previous warmth that still has color singing across skin.  Once together, it sinks lower, slipping beneath the surface, and sending tendrils through your system as if in search of something.  

You have a feeling whatever it’s looking for is a lot more than just a taste. 

You feel your legs grow shaky, his tongue sweeping languidly along your lower lip before he draws it into his mouth.  The way he suckles it, though, is what has your balance faltering.  You almost lose it completely with the gentle nibble that follows and as before, the only thing keeping you from plummeting over the side is that sustained, cautious, lack of response.  

He doesn’t try to push for more, but the pressure of his mouth is increasing, that persistent edge within his gaze beginning to enter his movements.  With every subsequent kiss, he seems less satisfied, as if the taste he seeks only parches him instead of bringing relief.      

You’re proud of yourself for keeping it together, for not letting your senses become ensnared by the scent of his cologne or the lingering taste of scotch that transfers indirectly to your tongue.  You do not succumb to the warmth of his body that hovers so close to yours, and you convince yourself if you can just hold on to something, you can keep keep from getting swept away.   

Unfortunately, your fingers decide that something happens to be Crowley.  

They slip beneath the lapel of his suit, clutching the smooth fabric.  You’re not sure if you’re the one that’s dragging him closer, or if he’s taken it as a sign of encouragement and is now moving toward you.  Either way, the small gap between your bodies disappears and the world shifts a little sideways as his hips meet yours.  The moment he backs you into the sink, your stomach abandons ship, dropping somewhere beneath the floor, and you’re not certain if the noise that catches in the back of your throat is one of alarm or anticipation.  

Whatever it is, it spurs him to action, and the fingers beneath your chin break away to thread through the back of your hair.  The way he handles you is tender, bordering on the familiarity of a lover’s touch, and the unexpected gentleness has your heart fluttering in ways of which you don’t approve.   

Gently he guides your head back, mouth breaking away from yours, but instead of ending the madness, he takes it one step further.  Lips and tongue dance over your jaw before dipping down the side of your neck where teeth take hold of your pulse and tug.

“Crowley,” you gasp, his name just another shade of gray on this spectrum of ambiguity you’re caught in.

Part of you knows you shouldn’t be doing this.  He’s a demon, the king of Hell, and everything about those two things, and the fact you’re practically a Winchester, should have you ending this.  Yet, it’s also not that simple.  

He has stood with you against greater evils.  He has saved your life on more than one occasion.  He has even gone out of his way to protect you.  You.  Someone who really is just a sidekick to the more important characters in this ongoing cluster for which Chuck has set the stage

“Tell me you don’t want this and I’ll stop,” he rasps, soothing over where he’s just nipped.  “Tell me to stop and I’ll leave.”

Desire roughens the smooth edges of his words, but as he draws back for a fraction of second, you notice his voice and gaze are at odds with each other.  A fleeting glimpse is all you catch, but you almost swear his eyes hold a plea for you to end this.  Yet, his lips are descending down the other side of your neck, his tongue teasing its way to your ear where it grazes along the outer edge.   

The moment you feel his teeth upon your earlobe, your resolve to remain neutral vanishes.  

You grab the sides of his face, fingers splaying over coarse stubble as you pull his head back.  His breath grows as still as yours does, or perhaps it’s just the entire world stopping in that brief moment before you give your response.  Even you’re not certain what it will be until the words are tumbling from your lips.   

“Don’t you dare stop,” you warn, stepping straight off that line into the unknown as your lips rush forward to meet his.  Your permission strips away the barriers of his control, his tongue hastily pushing into your mouth, eager to explore.   

Your fingers card through his hair, holding his head to yours as if afraid he may pull away at any second.  His hands, however, are everywhere, rising up your back, sliding around your side, ghosting over the sides of your breasts before smoothing down the length of you.  They land briefly at your waist, fingers taking possession in the form of a light squeeze before slipping down around the back of you.  He grabs you right where your thighs meet the curve of your ass, and he takes a moment to appreciate this part of you before deftly hoisting you into the air.   

You fold against him, your arms resting on his shoulders and legs instinctively wrapping around his waist, trapping his increasingly hardening length between your bodies.  You’re vaguely aware he’s taking you somewhere, but that tongue of his is doing things to yours that makes it hard to think of anything else.  It’s not until he sets you down on something solid that you realize he’s brought you to the kitchen table.   

You take some time to get a taste of him, but it’s clear neither of you are satisfied with just this.  You need to feel his hands on your skin, his body pressed to yours, and neither of those is happening with how much clothing you both still have on.  Your fingers begin to pluck at the buttons on your shirt when his hands come up and cover yours.

“Allow me,” he offers, and a sudden chill washes over you as your entire top layer disappears in the blink of an eye.  

He hardly gives your bare skin a glance, foregoing sight to take in this new aspect of you through touch.  His mouth comes down on your shoulder and he places hot, open mouthed kisses along it before making his way lower.  Teeth and tongue come out to add taste to his exploration, and they expertly tease along the ridge of your collarbone, drawing from you an appreciative hum.  

His hands slide up to the band of your bra, though only one of them takes hold of the fabric before deftly undoing the hooks.  A smile tugs at your lips.  It’s such a subtle and very Crowley-esque move.   

“Show off,” you tease, and for a moment, he looks like himself again, a cocky smirk stretching across his features as his head hovers just over the swell of your breasts.  

“If you think that’s impressive, I’m just getting started.”

His gaze never leaves yours as his hands resume their course, moving up behind your shoulders with that same, feather-light touch.  He hooks his fingers beneath the straps, drawing them down your arms before he removes the article altogether.  The sudden coolness has your nipples hardening, and even as he tosses the garment over his shoulder, his eyes are still on yours and that confident grin remains in place 

The promise that gleams within hazel breathes vitality back into his features, and that heat burning its way through your blood pools straight between your legs 

The king has returned and the way his stare slides down the length of you, his entire kingdom now sits before him.  

His eyes linger, as if committing every curve to memory, before his hands reach up to cup your breasts.  You exhale, a soft sigh passing your lips from the breath you didn’t realize you were holding.  Tension releases though there’s a different one slowly growing in its place as his thumbs tease over hardened nubs.  A band of pleasure begins to stretch beneath your stomach, growing tauter as his mouth dips down, tongue teasing languid circles around sensitive peaks.   

Your hands splay out along his lower back, and luxury resonates in the smoothness of the garment that whispers through your touch.  You grab a fistful of fabric, hastily untucking it from his pants before delving within to grab his ass.  It’s firmer than you expect, and your fingers take ownership before pulling him tight against you.  

The table begins to sway as you roll your hips against him, a soft creaking underlying your gasps and sighs that punctuate the silence.  You feel him twitch against you, a low moan rumbling in the back of his throat.  

“Easy, kitten, or I’m liable to just bend you over and take you right here,” he warns.  He’s only partially joking.  The energy beneath his skin suddenly spills over onto yours, and the frantic cadence to which it beats leaves you wondering just how he hasn’t just taken you already.

“Then why don’t you?” You question, enjoying the way his eyes flutter as you rub yourself against him again.  

“This isn’t exactly how I imagined this.”  Everything gives a sudden shift, apology lacing his words and vying for a spot within his gaze.  As he drinks in the sight of you – your lips swollen from his attention, your skin ablaze with your own heightened desire, the way your sex is so wet the dampness is spreading to his pants –  there’s an undeniable thirst that overtakes everything other than the driving need to quench it.

“I’m not complaining,” you breathe, and his stare turns wholly unapologetic as you take hold of him through his trousers, thumb smoothing over the tip straining through the dark material.  

“Eager, are we?” He chuckles.  “So am I.  Though perhaps we should move someplace a little more comfortable?”

You expect him to magic you into your bed.  Any bed, really.  What you don’t expect is to find yourself in his lap in the middle of the library.  There’s just enough room for you both in the giant, antique leather armchair you’ve dubbed the throne by how he never fails to commandeer it when around.  

“I may have imagined this however…” You blink and your last remaining article of clothing disappears along with all of his.  “On a number of occasions.”  

You’ve always wondered what lay beneath that suit of his.  It takes you a moment to wrap your head around the fact that for a moment, it’s all yours.   

Your hands take in the lean planes of his chest, smoothing over the tops of his shoulders before dipping down along the corded muscle of his biceps.  They come to rest at the crook of his elbows, and you look up at him through lashes with a combination of coyness and shyness.  

The latter is something you’re not used to feeling, though you suppose you’re also unaccustomed to sitting astride an actual king’s lap.  

“Touch yourself, darling.  Show me how you like it.”

A thrill sings straight down the center of you, and you’re not sure what turns you on more: the sensual lilt his voice takes on or the wickedness that burns within his stare.  You want to obey him, but you are all too familiar with what your touch is like, and you have waited far too long to feel his.  

“I have a better idea,” you tell him, lips curling carnally as you raise off the chair.   He tilts his head curiously as you turn around before lowering yourself again.  You settle your legs on either side of him and his breath hitches as you sit back down, intentionally rubbing yourself against him in the process.

“Well, you certainly have my attention,” he murmurs, his hands gliding along your inner thighs before coming up to rest on your hips.  The sensation fuels your excitement, and it’s a concentrated effort to keep your movements slow and steady.  Your hand overlays his, index finger lining up tip to tip, before you pluck his grip from your side and place it over your mound.

“You want to know what I like?” You purr, dragging his finger along your folds, wetting it with your slick.  “I like the thought of you touching me.”  

“As do I,” he drawls, his free hand sliding up over your stomach, brushing along your rib cage before finally closing over your breast.  You let out a whimper and guide the finger in your possession to your clit.  You start him with slow, sensual circles, teasingly light in pressure.  His other hand takes a sensitive bud between fingertips, alternating between rolling and gentle tugs.  

The combined sensations has you mewling and the embers of your desire catching fire.  You allow him to take the reins, rewarding his efforts by rocking back against him.  You relish the way his breathing begins to pick up, matching yours as an increasing tempo of ragged gasps interspersed with moans.  

“Is this really the way you like it?” He rasps, his tongue flicking out around the shell of your ear, sending goosebumps skittering across skin.  “Or are you someone who likes things a little rougher?”

He pinches your nipple harder, your pleasure soaring as he simultaneously increases the pressure with the finger between your legs.  

“I like anything, so long as you’re the one doing it.”

You’re not sure where the confession comes from, only that it’s stumbling past your lips faster than you can catch it.  His cock twitches against you and the moment you realize what buttons you’ve pushed, you can’t resist hitting hitting them again 

“I’ve always wanted you to touch me,” you continue, “To know what it was like to have your hand down my pants.”  

Deep down, you always wanted it to be him fucking you into those cheap motel mattresses, instead of all the random drunks from the bar.  

The snarl that rises in the back of his throat suggests he does, indeed, hear far more than he lets on, and his teeth flash out across your neck, his nip wholly ungentle.  His finger picks up speed and you let out a whine, your legs beginning to shudder as those flames lick more insistently at your core.

You’re so close, teetering on the brink of release, when you feel his breath fall heavily against your ear.

“I’m going to show you exactly what you’ve been missing,” he promises, and it’s the decadent silk within his tone that ignites your senses, sending those flames into a crescendo of heated bliss that sings across your system.  

As your walls shudder around nothing, however, you feel more than a little incomplete.  

You barely finish coming when the world shifts around you in a blur.  You don’t even have time to blink when you find yourself face to face with him once more.  The odd glow remains in his eyes but it’s grown so much brighter, pushing the fringe of feral as he grabs you by the back of head and drags your lips back to his.  

His tongue slides over yours and as he’s in the process of reclaiming your mouth his hands shift.  The fingers digging into the soft flesh of your hips are as demanding as his kiss.  His cock is positively throbbing, and you reach between the two of you to give him some relief.  There’s a half-growl, half-moan that hums against your lips as you work your hand over the shaft, sliding up around his tip which is dripping with pre-cum.  

His grip over you tightens as he jerks you up to your knees.  You know what he wants, and the fact he wants it now has your legs trembling with anticipation.  

The manic energy buzzing beneath his skin hits a fever pitch as he lines himself up with your entrance.  His fingers become possessive, tips pushing to the point it’s almost painful as he pulls you down upon him. The movement is faster than you expect, and he swallows the sharp cry you give with his mouth.  You’re so wet, the only resistance he encounters is from the fact it’s been awhile since you’ve slept with anyone.  

After a few, short thrusts he’s fully sheathed and there’s a satisfied rumble that spreads through his chest.  He holds you there a moment, allowing you to adjust, or perhaps he, like you, is simply taking the time to savor how he feels inside you.  You can’t remember the last time you felt this good, your walls stretched to the max, but not uncomfortably so.  It brings with it a feeling of completeness you’ve always been missing with other men.  

You have a feeling it has nothing to with Crowley’s size, though it certainly is kingly.

His hands slip down the curve of your ass, resuming their insistent grip as he urges you to start.  You begin to move slowly, enjoying the feel of him languidly dragging across your walls and the way he perfectly hits that sensitive spot inside from this angle.  The moment his grip passes the threshold of pain, however, you decide you’ve both waited long enough.  

The next time you raise up, you take a moment to tease his tip along your entrance, in and out, in then out, before abruptly slamming down onto him.  You catch him by surprise and are rewarded with a guttural half-grunt, half-groan.  You repeat the movement, and this time he moans, deep and loud, and before you can do it again he’s taking control, thrusting up into you with slow but hard strokes. 

The sudden roughness awakens something in you, and you realize just how much you need this – him.  Your nails rake over his back, leaving raised paths of pink in their wake.  Your teeth take hold of his bottom lip and you don’t just tug, you bite.  The next breath he takes hisses in through his teeth and for a moment you’re afraid it’s too hard.  

“The kitten has claws,” he murmurs in approval, picking up the pace.  

The chair begins to rock beneath you, wood groaning in protest, and every now and then there’s a high pitched squeak as the entire seat jerks across the floor.  His hand flashes up to the back of your head, pulling your hair and drawing you back, exposing your throat to him.  His teeth leave a trail of stings in their wake and the sensations he’s creating has heat lapping at your core once more.

Your eyes slip closed, and you’re amazed at how fast he already has you ascending back up that blissful summit.  Everything suddenly stills, from the noises unconsciously slipping through your lips to your very breath as you focus entirely on him.  The way he’s pistoning in and out of you.  How it feels as he hits that inner wall whenever he gives a particularly deep thrust, burying himself as far as he can go.  From how surprisingly warm his body is to the feel of his skin against yours, you have an inexplicable urge to remember every detail you can about this encounter.  

“Look at me,” his voice breaks through the riptide of sensation you’re all but lost in, drawing you back.  

You do as he asks and something shifts.  That driving need he’s been battling slides a little further beneath the surface, his thrusts slowing as his hand comes up and cups your cheek.  The thumb that grazes along your lower lip is tender, his penetrating stare speaking with an emotion far less casual than you’d ever expect from him.  

He doesn’t just want you, he wants all of you, and that does more for you than seeing him wild with desire ever could.  

“You are perfection,” he marvels, and the way he looks at you it’s like he’s seeing you for the first time.  In many ways you feel the same, this man before you almost a stranger in comparison to the one you thought you knew.  The weariness still clinging to the lining of green has a different word whispering across your mind: human.

You don’t have time to dwell on the revelation.  His thumb brushes across your clit, causing you to shudder as sparks shoot from beneath his touch.  You clench around him, wanting this to feel as good as he’s making it feel for you, and you realize just how little you’ve given in return.

It’s time to fix that.

“Enjoy the ride, sire,” you tell him, loving the way desire darkens in his gaze at the term.  You give a few slow roll of your hips before you begin to raise up off him, bouncing on his cock at a steadily increasing pace. 

He allows you to take over, eyes riveted to your features.  He’s drinking in every detail, watching every nuance and expression as if enraptured.  Perhaps, like you, he feels the need to commit you to memory.  Whatever his reason, he pays more attention to you now than he has the entire time he’s known you, and that bundle of nerves is receiving the majority of it, his finger swirling around and around as he continuously adjusts the pressure.

It isn’t long before both your sensitive spots are singing, from one of his tips or from another.  The symphony he creates is carnal, filled with decadence and heat, much of which flows from his stare alone.  He’s proud of the song he’s creating, the notes striking chords within him as well that have him humming right along side you.  He holds back, however, waiting for your blissful tune to finish before he writes the rest of his.

The chorus is rapidly approaching, a crescendo building until you’re standing at that edge once again.  You’re so close you can peer right over it, but as your eyes slip shut in preparation for the fall, his voice draws you back.

“Look at me,” he rasps and you realize he wants to watch more than just your features when you tumble over the brink.  You open your eyes again and you’re surprised at the depth in which green has become illuminated, a stark contrast to the darkness in his pupils that are so vast and wide.  Impulse takes you by the hand, drawing your palm against his cheek.  As an unexpected tenderness settles within your chest, you realize just how deep you are in this.  

The way the sentiment echoes within his gaze, you also realize you’re not alone.   It takes you a few moments to work your way back to that peak.  You’re still wrapping your mind around the fact this is, by far, the most intimate thing you’ve ever done with anyone.  You manage to maintain the eye contact, daunting as it is, as you line yourself back up with that ledge.  The sweet symphony sends its final wave of notes singing through you and you take that final leap, your movements stuttering as you drop straight into the heated verdant waters that continue to stare at you.  

This time, when you come you feel so full and whole, it almost aches.  

You have yet to hit the ground again when his hands slip down your waist and you can tell he’s grappling to remain in control.  His grip is bruising, and suddenly he’s slamming into you at such a breakneck pace you can’t even make a sound.  The impassioned gleam within his gaze carries with it that touch of madness, releasing it in a final, bright burst as soon as his rhythm grows unsteady.  

He gives a few final thrusts, his hips rising off the chair as he pushes into you as far as he can go.  His cock pulsates before spilling his seed inside of you, something you don’t normally allow anyone else to do.  

Perhaps Crowley’s crazy is catching.  

Your body melts against him.  You know you should move, but you can’t seem to extricate yourself from him,  You don’t want to let him go.  You don’t want this moment to end.  You know beyond a doubt there’s no going back from here, but you’re not sure what going forward means either, and hiding a few more moments while you’re both in limbo seems far less intimidating.

“It’s always been you.”  He breathes his ragged confession against your neck and this time the entire universe grinds to a halt.  It’s probably as close as he’ll ever be able to come to saying the three words that hold more power to create or destroy than any spell or ritual ever could.  For the king of Hell, this is immense, and brings with it a startling burst of clarity, that has all but a few pieces of today’s puzzle sliding into place.

You swallow, head slowly drawing back so you can look him in the eye.

“Crowley…” Your tongue almost fumbles at the rising emotion that threatens to cut off your words.  “What’s going on?”

The smile he gives is open, full of adoration and a sadness that squeezes around more than just your throat.  It feeds the fear rising in your chest, and you can’t help but feel like something awful is going to happen.  It makes your grip over him grow tighter, more possessive, and now you have no intentions of letting him go.    

“For once, I’m going to do the right thing,” he says, an unmistakable apology resonating beneath his tone.  A heavy sense of foreboding washes over you.  Logic becomes bypassed and you no longer care what it is he’s talking about.  All you can think about is the sudden, visceral need to tell him no one else has ever meant anything to you, either.  It’s always been him.  

A sudden weight dampens his features, one that has weariness returning ten fold while something suspiciously looking like guilt and regret mutes his stare.  You have a feeling you don’t need to say a word to him, but it doesn’t stop you from trying.  The moment you open your mouth, however, he vanishes, leaving you with nothing but the fading warmth of his heat on leather and the chilly bunker air.  

All the Tags:  @girl-next-door-writes @wayward-mirage @fand0maniac @feelmyroarrrr @omgreganlove @jannalionheart @baritonechick, @deaths-maiden @lucifer-in-leather @stone-met   @the-moose-of-baskerville @summer-binging-spn   @raspberrypuddle @ourloveisforthelovely

[confusedunit]

Universe of Unreality - Chapter 3

Chapter 3 -  "W-what...could he mean...?" It's time, for the cascade. Tommy feels unsettled. Bubby and Coomer are confused. Dr. Freeman remembers something. 

Tommy was sure it couldn't have been long, that they couldn't have been too far behind Dr. Freeman. But by the time they made it to the observation room, he was already long gone. As the three entered, the men in the room looked up at them, and they didn't seem happy. But they never really seemed happy in the first place.

"Ah, Dr's Coomer and Coolatta. And Bubby." The man crossed his arms, even as Bubby growled quietly. "Once again, you three seem to have found your ways to exactly where you don't belong."

"Ah, but we are here to supervise!" Coomer spoke brightly, a grin on his face. To anyone who didn't know him, it probably looked genuine. "Dr. Freeman told us about his experiment, and we heard over the Black Mesa Automatic Diagnostic and Announcement System that the test had been pushed forward! So here we are!"

"And yet, you're late. Just as Gordon was." He sighed, tapping his foot. "You used to be so punctual, Dr. Coomer. I think that boy has rubbed off on you."

Bubby leaned forward. "In case you were somehow unaware, there's been problems with the tram system all morning. Everyone's running late. Unless someone stayed and worked unapproved overtime?"

The man seemed more uncomfortable, at that. "We've changed up the test, we all needed to make sure that nothing would go wrong. It's not our faults that Gordon decided to sleep in."

"He's been sick! With a flu that probably was caused here!"

Hmm, Tommy took note of that. Bubby remembered the illness too. But thinking he'd just come back from that...that was a problem for future him. Current him needed to try to get Dr. Freeman away from the room, without actually being able to get to him. He wished, for a moment, that Benrey was there. The troublemaker could just clip through the walls and go mess with the VOX, make a fake announcement. But he assumed the guard was with Dr. Freeman, which may just be safer.

"Are you accusing us of something, Bubby?"

"N-no sir, he's just...concerned for Mr. Freeman!" Tommy nodded, opening and closing his hands as he thought. "I...I think we shouldn't do this test today...it's- it's dangerous enough as it is, with- uh- without health concerns!"

The man turned to look up at him now. "You have no idea what you're talking about, Dr. Coolatta. With all due respect, you don't work in Anom, you work in HR."

Ah, right into his trap. Perfect. Like a horse kicking a hornet's nest. "Act- actually, that's exactly why I- I do know what I'm talking about...!" He smiled brightly, as his words became a bit more focused, as if he was reading them off a page. He wasn't, of course. He'd memorized them. "Working conditions for an employee of 'Black Mesa' and other subsidiaries are required to maintain the highest of possible safety, including but not limited to; well maintained equipment, monthly safety inspections, meticulous count of specimens, continued health of people and animals and experiments one may come in contact with, and multistage approvals of any and all tests posed, including any updates or changes to test protocol, sample, or equipment."

The other two Sector C scientists looked nervously to the first one. The Science Team all grinned back.

"...Ah, well-"

"So as you can see, Mr..." He glanced at the man's name tag. "...Teasley, currently at least three of those requirements are- are being broken right now!"

Bubby crossed his arms, nodding. "Continued health of those one would come in contact with would include Dr. Freeman."

"He's been cleared to return to work, Bubby. That meets the requirement."

Tommy shook his head. "He is still unwell, even if not contagious. Putting him...right back in- into testing with the radiation, that's unsafe!"

"He is a grown man, Dr. Coolatta. He doesn't need your protection."

Oh, but he does, he wanted to insist. But he knew Teasley wouldn't understand. But it wouldn't matter anymore, soon.

"Actually, as far as I remember," Coomer spoke up. "No labs in Sector C have been properly inspected lately. Or Sector G, now that I think about it."

Teasley tensed up again. "We have one scheduled, and we've been given the go ahead on the test. That isn't a problem either."

"But the last two are. Meticulous count of specimens, and multistage approvals. I- I haven't heard of anyone getting any r-requests from your department!" He stared down at the smaller man. "We've b-been assigned all the paperwork, you know. E-even stuff that isn't...ours."

Teasley suddenly stiffened, staring right up at him. "We've gotten permission from Administration to conduct this test directly."

Tommy recognized that language. He doesn't like it. He narrows his eyes. "The Administrator would never approve of such a violation of-"

Teasley cut him off by taking a step into his space, lowering his voice. "The Administrator, isn't who you think he is, Tommy."

He took a step back, and he knew from the reaction of the men in front of him that his eyes had changed colors for a brief moment. He covered them quickly, hoping that his friends hadn't noticed the glow.

Pink, to grey, to white as chalk, means 'I am feeling quite the shock'.

It seemed like they hadn't, as they both moved forward to his sides. Coomer latched onto him, while Bubby moved a step in front.

"Tommy, are you alright?"

"What are you getting in his face for? What is your problem??"

Teasley stomped his foot, loudly. "That is enough! All three of you, get out of here before you make a mess of our equipment. It is our job to keep Dr. Freeman safe, and the fact that you've all barged in here is going to make us even later!"

Tommy let his hands fall, looking over at the man one more time. He had to try one last time. "But-"

"No buts! Everyone out!"

He felt shame, as the three of them left the room. They couldn't stop it, this time. They hadn't the other time either, but...at least they'd been there for him then. He sighed quietly, moving over to sit with his back against one of the walls.

Coomer sat on his right side, taking his arm once again. "...He will be alright. He is a strong man, for how young he is."

Bubby sat on his left, taking off his glasses to clean them. "He made it through before, he'll be fine."

Tommy pressed his palms into his eyes. "That was Gordon, not- not Dr. Freeman..."

"...Wait. Wait wait wait, Tommy...you know that?"

He tensed. "Uh..."

"If I may also interrupt, how do you two remember Gordon? I can understand why I do, however..."

The power flickered for a moment, and they felt as the machine started to rumble.

"...A conversation for a...a later time." Tommy said quietly, hands falling into his lap.

The others said nothing in return, as they all watched the door.

-

Dr. Freeman sighed, as they walked down the final hallway. "And they keep changing it! All the time!"

"wow, bro, that's like...super sucks." Benry gave a grin. "want me to beat them up?"

"Nah, man, that's like...my boss. I think. I've got so many I don't remember who's the highest up." He shrugged. "So we just sneak into the vents to break in. Or at least, we used to. I haven't seen him in a while...Hope he hasn't gotten sick too." He looked over to his friend. "You've met Calhoun, right?"

"uhhhh..." He seemed to think about this for a few moments. "...nah, don't think so. he cool?"

He smiled a bit. "He's a riot. He's the reason we aren't allowed to have Sector-wide bar parties anymore. Well, he and I. We got absolutely hammered one night, and someone decides to dare us to- well, I don't remember the details anymore, but I do remember that the surveillance system on that part of topside was busted for two months, and we only ended up with minorly broken bones. They scheduled him in different Sectors more often after that." He laughed. "Kleiner threw a fit, because no other guard knew how to get into his office through the vents, but they didn't really change their minds."

"huh. good to know." He glanced away.

"I think you two would get on like a house and fire."

"we'd what? huh?" He looked quickly back.

"It's a saying. Means you'd get along super well. Because houses burn easily?"

He blinked slowly, like a cat. "not human bro. don't know your...weird language."

He shook his head, as he entered the airlock. "I think it's called a...well I guess it's a metaphor, but I meant something else."

"malaphor." He stepped in after him.

"No, that's- what? What does that even mean?"

"like, you'll burn that bridge when you get to it. tommy says them."

The two scientists in the room decided, blessedly, to ignore the conversation, and just move to their stations.

"No, that's definitely a metaphor, what he says. But that's...your example isn't even one. There's crossing the bridge when you get to it, and burning bridges. Those are completely different things."

"but like, why not do both at once? 100% speedrun that shit."

"No, like, that would mean something entirely different, is what I'm saying." He shook his head as the door opened, waving to the two scientists. "Thank you. Sorry I'm late. I'll get right to work."

"they should give you an apology..." He muttered quietly to himself, standing right next to him.

Dr. Freeman took a breath, looking around the room. It felt like it had been ages since he'd been inside the test chamber, and being back...filled him with a feeling of ease. This was his stomping ground, his domain, the one place that his coworkers seemed to actually take him seriously. As sad as it was, it almost felt like home. Like it reached to him, pulled on him like a siren's call. He would feel the Resonation, hear the crystals sing, and he would almost feel at peace.

He was pulled from his thoughts by a small tug on his arm. "uh...bro? you good?"

He blinked slowly, looking over to Benry. "Huh? Oh, uh...yeah." He looked back at the machine. "Just thinking."

"what about?"

"The Resonance. It's..." He shook his head. "Look, they got...they got microphones. They'll call me crazy again. I'll...tell you later."

For a moment, the smaller man looked like he was going to say something, but the intercom cut him off with instructions.

Dr. Freeman moved through the process with ease, activating the bottom console before moving up the ladder to activate the top one. He went through the startup process with the observation crew, taking note of the unplanned changes. Increased power, larger sample...ugh, his data was going to be a mess. They'd have to run at least two more tests to actually get any usable data out of this. Well, at least he could organize what they were going to get later. Give him something to do at least.

He climbed down, giving a thumbs up to Benry as he passed his spot where he'd decided to sit on the floor. He moved across the room, to wait for the sample. As soon as it arrived, he rested his hands on the handle of the cart, trying to calm his breath. Every step he took towards the machine made his heart pound, and he didn't know why. Sure, this was the first test in ages, but everything would be fine. He was in control. It wouldn't mess up this time-

He stopped in his tracks, wracking his brain. What did that mean? They'd definitely never done this test before...they'd done smaller ones, but not one this big. Did something...no, the smaller ones had all gone fine, hadn't they? He'd been there for all of them-

He felt his heart skip again, before he shook his head and returned to his work. He felt his skin crawl as he got near, an anxiety he wasn't expecting starting to pop up. His own song, his brain, was screaming at him. Something was wrong. The song wasn't supposed to be like this. Not his. He took a steadying breath, just as he finally pushed the crystal into the beam.

The immediate cacophony was almost deafening, and he scrambled backwards. That was the wrong shade of green, and it was so much worse than the last time he'd seen it- His back slammed against the lift cage, and he gripped onto it like a lifeline, as he watched the colors pulse and shine. The wrong shade of green, and the crystal's song was upset. Not like before, when the only crime was pushing in the sample too fast, this was a song as if the crystal itself was distressed, faint waves of sound mixing with the Geiger counter in the HEV, mixing with his own song, and as he stared up into the glowing mass he felt a small bit of confusion, before a moment of understanding.

This wasn't supposed to happen. But...he could fix it.

He pushed himself to his feet and started to sprint across the room, not even flinching as the glass up above him shattered. He stumbled at a shake of the ground, but made his way over to the lower console. He'd done this before. He could do it again. And once it was all okay, he'd figure out why the hell he knew he'd done this before. A problem for a him that gets to be alive.

He looked up, and saw Benry holding onto the ladder for dear life, black and grey and yellow and blue orbs hovering around him. Once the smaller man saw him, he dropped, rushing over. "bro we gotta get you out of here, you don't got a helmet-"

"I'm not worried about the radiation. It hasn't killed me yet." He looked down at the console again, before returning his look to his friend. "Benry, I need your help."

"anything, bro, just-"

He tightly gripped Benry's upper arms, trying to ground himself. "I need your help. I can shut this down, but I need your help."

A few orbs seemed to pour from the guard's lips, a fragile looking gold. "wha?"

"There's a failsafe, here in this room. But I need your help to do it." He flinched, as the machine gave a worrying groan. "I don't have the speed to do it myself this time."

"this time? bro?"

"I'll...I'll figure out what that means later. More being alive now." He pulled away, rushing for the ladder.

"wait! what do i do?"

"Everything's numbered! When I tell you to start, you hit the numbers backwards! Hit one, then yell the number to me, and I'll hit mine! When I call out the number back, you move to the next!" He climbed up the ladder as quickly as he could while the world shook, stumbling along the catwalk to the upper console.

"uh, what-"

"On my mark, you start at five! And go backwards from there!" He held onto the console for dear life, glancing down. "Ready?"

Benry looked up for a brief moment, before he nodded. "ready."

"Now!"

A click. "five!"

He reached out to his own console, flipping a switch. He looked over at the machine, smiling faintly as he heard the crystal's song change slightly. "Five!"

Another click. "four!"

He pressed a button this time, and the machine's spin started to slow. "Four!"

A thunk, this time, before the click. "three!"

He twisted a knob this time. "Three!"

Another click. "two-"

An explosion shook the entire room, as the laser arched and burst off of the mass. He barely kept from toppling off of the catwalk. "Shit, Benry, you good?"

He was given no response.

"Benry??" He looked down over the edge of the catwalk, and felt his heart stop. Below, the lower console was destroyed, a burning husk of metal and plastic all that remained. The spot where Benry last stood was burned, part of the blast even having damaged the wall behind. There was no sign of the guard, or even of his helmet.

He covered his mouth with his hands, trying to calm down. The man had always insisted he wasn't human, that he'd be fine in any dangers. In that moment, more than anything else, he hoped that he'd been telling the truth.

He pressed a button on his own console, feeling sick. "Two..." He mumbled to himself, starting to lose balance. His friend was gone. He hadn't been fast enough, couldn't protect him...and now he couldn't even shut the machine down. But as he heard the song change more, the lights fading closer to yellow, he knew he could at least stabilize the beam. Maybe...at least then his work wouldn't have been in vain.

He entered commands into the console on autopilot, taking a step back once he was done. Minimal power, into the crystal, which would keep the machine from destroying itself, and seemed to have made the green energy minimal. It would give a stable amount of data. And according to said data, the power from the crystal would keep the machine self sustaining, if not actively feeding back into the grid. What a time to find a green power source.

He stumbled on his way to the ladder, dropping to the catwalk and crumpling over himself. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't exit the room without the bottom console to override the door, no one in the observation room was talking to him, and Benry...

He shook his head, trying to keep himself steady. But all he could think of was all of his friends. Would this be effecting anyone else in the facility? With the amount of power drain, the shaking, the explosions and the screams he'd heard...what had they done? How many people would...

He heard the song change pitch, and the laser arched again. An explosion hit the wall. The part of the catwalk under him gave way, and he fell through the air. He heard another change, and felt electricity strike through him, pain keeping him from screaming.

His last thought was, 'strange, my glasses aren't cracked this time', before he felt nothing.