#mon-el imagine

[malachai-parkers-cupcake]

Wellcome to my page !

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This page is for Chris wood and all his characters!

Like, malachai parker, mon-el, Jake Riley, and Adam Weaver!

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[hitchell-mope]

Winn: Kara, why is Mon El intruding on our cuddle time?

Mon El: Kara, why is Winn intruding on our cuddle time?

Kara: Boys, please, I have two hands.

[t-marveland]

𝐃𝐂 | mon-el

Mon-el x Reader

Warnings : aucun

Mots : 55

Masterlist

Tu rentras en trombe dans l'appartement, ta journée avait été vraiment horrible. Mon-el leva les yeux de son livre et vit ton expression renfrognée.

❝━ Qu'est ce qu'il y a ? Demanda-t-il, inquiet.

━ Cette journée craint !❞

Il se leva, te prit les mains et t'embrassa passionnément.

❝━ Alors rendons-la meilleure.❞

[dyns33]

Family language

We love a man who can use his tongue in a lot of different ways, even if he's pretty annoying.

It had become a habit.

Of course, sometimes they did it on purpose, to share information without being understood, but most of the time the Shelbys spoke Romani among themselves without even realizing it.

There were often a few words, and sometimes entire conversations. The first few times, Alfie hadn't said anything.

Sitting amidst the screams and noise that always accompanied his in-laws, he silently recited a prayer that they would quickly leave his house, before he lost his patience and killed one of them.

This would probably not please his wife, who was laughing happily with her brothers. Or her fratii, as she said.

He was starting to understand certain things. Alfie Solomons was gifted with languages. But he couldn't guess all the unfamiliar vocabulary, and so sometimes he got lost in very annoying gibberish.

“Cred it soțul tău se îmbufnește.” Finn whispered.

“Nu. E obosit, lasă-l în pace.”

“El simte că oamenii vorbesc despre el.” Tommy said smiling, his eyes landing on Alfie. “Domnul Solomons este deștept.”

No doubt, they were talking about him, under his own roof, purposely making fun of him in an unknown language so that he couldn't understand.

When he asked Y/N, she said he was imagining things. And even if he was right, he probably pleased his brothers by reacting like this. He just had to ignore them and act like an adult for once.

He could have listened to his wife's good advice.

Aside from the threats he had made if anyone misbehaved with her, the community had come to adore Y/N because it was obvious that she knew better than anyone how to control the King of Candem.

There were still fits of rage, because the man remained mad, but she always managed to calm him down. Undoubtedly, taming wild horses as a child helped to acquire this kind of gift.

In a way, Alfie listened.

The normal reaction he would have had would have been to attack the Shelbys directly, getting revenge in some way for their insult. But he let the night pass, thinking about the adult way to deal with this problem.

“DДоброе утро, любовь моя.” he said to Y/N, continuing to read his newspaper with his tea, as she entered the living room, still groggy from sleep.

This seemed to wake her immediately. She stared at him, with a look that showed which family she came from.

"What ?"

"I said 'DДоброе утро, любовь моя'."

"I heard. What does that mean ?"

“Nothing bad, don’t worry, клад.”

Y/N grimaced, visibly irritated, but she didn't insist, announcing that she was going to take a bath. Alfie didn't continue his game right away, because he wished he could join her.

The afternoon arrived, and his wife visited him at the Bakery to check that he had eaten, that he had not died under a pile of files or stabbed by a competitor, and to massage his back very carefully.

“Tes mains sont magiques, mon coeur”

This time, it was Ollie who made a funny face, looking at his boss, then at Y/N, as if silently asking if she understood what he had just said.

“Italian ?” she asked, continuing to massage him, looking detached.

"No. Questo è italiano, mia principessa."

"Prinţesă ? I'm not a princess, and you're becoming a pain."

As painful as her and her brothers speaking Romani in his presence, but he didn't say it. Alfie wanted her to understand it on her own, and no doubt she had understood from the moment he spoke Russian.

But even if she was Mrs. Solomons, Y/N would always remain a Shelby, proud and stubborn, refusing to admit her wrongs, and she would not apologize for having secrets with her family.

That wasn't even the problem. He respected secrets even if he didn't have any for her, and he liked it when she clearly gave him affectionate names that he didn't understand.

Obviously she liked names too. Amore mio, אהובי, mon amour. Their nights were much more passionate when he didn't speak English, the bedroom being the only place where she forgave him for this change.

But in front of others, when she didn't have the slightest way to decipher what he was saying, she didn't like it at all.

"היא הולכת לכעוס, בוס… זה לא מאוד נחמד." Ollie said, very embarrassed at being forced to participate in what seemed like a lovers' quarrel, and not knowing if he respected or was more afraid of Alfie or Y/N.

"אני מקסים עם אשתי. זה המשחק הקטן שלנו."

“I know you’re talking about me.”

“Not at all, милый.”

“Your employees look frantic, staring at me, I know you’re talking about me.”

The game lasted several weeks, before stopping completely, except for the little nicknames. This seemed to surprise Y/N, who wasn't used to seeing her husband give up so easily. She had grown up with the Shelbys, she knew these kinds of men.

Alfie didn't know whether he should be flattered or annoyed that she read him so well, because if he spent less time teasing her, it was to concentrate on another project in secret.

If he was good with languages ​​and didn't like not understanding, the solution was simple. He could learn Romani.

And it would be much more fun if his in-laws and his wife didn't know.

“Pare mai puțin enervat decגt de obicei.” John observed.

“Și mai puțin deranjant.” Arthur growled.

“El plדnuiește ceva.” sighed Y/N, observing Alfie, sitting quietly in his chair, looking at them and smiling. “Nu știu de ce מl iubesc atגt de mult pe idiotul דsta.”

“Cu toții ne מntrebדm asta, surioarד.” Tommy sighed, patting his sister on the back.

Although he had never played poker, Alfie was normally good at hiding his emotions when necessary. But hearing Y/N say she loved him to her brothers, he couldn't help but smile even more, which was noted.

And oh, how he loved his smart wife.

While the rest of the Shelbys were bickering about their future jobs, she came up to him, looking less angry than he expected.

“Ințelegi foarte bine ce spun.”

"Yes, treacle. A little surprise, which I thought I would keep secret for a little while longer. I'm not completely fluid yet."

"It's not fair. I don't understand anything when you speak in other languages."

"Je pourrais t'apprendre, chérie."

Most of the lessons were done in the bedroom, despite Y/N's protests that he was absolutely not focused enough to teach her anything useful.

When she threatened to make him sleep on the couch, Alfie found some time in his busy schedule to give her real lessons, or at least to give her real words.

"… You lied to me, again."

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, love.” he said while continuing to count his coins.

"I wanted to greet Ollie, like you taught me. I said to him 'אתה מטומטם עם זין קטן'."

“He must have been happy.”

"I've never seen him so upset in my entire life. You know my brothers never really made fun of you now, and I'd love to make fun of others with you, but don't make me say horrible things without let me know."

"Okay. You should also stop greeting Italians by calling them 'Stronzo' then."

"… I knew they weren't answering me politely."

"No. I had their balls cut off for that, אף אחד לא מדבר ככה ללב היקר שלי."

"Your 'dear heart' will sleep with Cyril tonight, while you are on the sofa."

"Think about my back, cruel woman ! I'm sorry, okay ? Mоя жизнь, mia vita, החיים שלי !"

“Canapeaua !”

"Does that mean 'I forgive you darling, come kiss me' ?"

He called Tommy to ask him, without explaining why, and even though he had an idea of ​​the answer. At least, the fucking Shleby had a good laugh.

Fine, I won't like you all in the dark like that :

“Cred it soțul tău se îmbufnește.” - "I believe your husband is sulking." (romani)

“Nu. E obosit, lasă-l în pace.” - "No. He's tired, leave him alone." (romani)

“El simte că oamenii vorbesc despre el. Domnul Solomons este deștept.” - "He feels that people are talking about him. Mr. Solomons is smart.” (romani)

“DДоброе утро, любовь моя.” - “Good morning, my love.” (russian) “клад.” - treasure (russian)

“Tes mains sont magiques, mon coeur” - "your hands are magical, my heart." (french)

"No. Questo è italiano, mia principessa." - "No, this is Italian, my princess" (italian)

Prinţesă - princess (romani)

Amore mio - my love (italian)

אהובי - my love (hebrew)

mon amour - my love (french)

"היא הולכת לכעוס, בוס… זה לא מאוד נחמד." - "She's going to be angry, boss… that's not very nice." (hebrew)

"אני מקסים עם אשתי. זה המשחק הקטן שלנו." - "I'm charming with my wife. It's our little game." (hebrew)

“милый.” - "Dear." (russian)

“Pare mai puțin enervat decגt de obicei.” -"He seems less annoying than usual." (romani)

“Și mai puțin deranjant.” - "And less mad." (romani)

“El plדnuiește ceva.” "He's planning something." (romani)

“Nu știu de ce מl iubesc atגt de mult pe idiotul דsta.” - "I don't know why I love this idiot so much." - (romani)

“Cu toții ne מntrebדm asta, surioarד.” - "We're all wondering that, little sister." (romani)

“Ințelegi foarte bine ce spun.” - "You understand very well what I'm saying." (romani)

"Je pourrais t'apprendre, chérie." - "I could teach you, darling" (french)

'אתה מטומטם עם זין קטן'. - 'You're a moron with a small dick'. (hebrew)

'Stronzo' - assholes (italian)

אף אחד לא מדבר ככה ללב היקר שלי - Nobody talk like that to my dear heart (hebrew)

Mоя жизнь - my life (russian)

mia vita - my life (italian)

החיים שלי !" - my life (hebrew)

“Canapeaua !” - "The couch !" (romani)

[blazethecheeto]

hi so i watched the supergirl finale. and like. what the fuck guys.

that might have been the biggest queer analogy i've ever seen without it being explicitly stated. the whole talk where kara compares how she feels like she's been trapped, how she's been hiding and never living her authentic truth to alex feeling free and joyful with her wife.

the life she wants to have. the metaphors of her not feeling ready to come out. the constant parallels to alex's journey and her wedding vows resonating with kara so deeply. CAT SAYING "most of all, i hope you choose to become your full self."

TEARS. CRYING. LIKE HAPPY PRIDE MONTH??? I GUESS???

and then, AND THEN- out of every single person, lena luthor is the one she has her last conversation with. she is the one to support her, to believe in her, like she always has. lena comparing how both of them were always being told who they were supposed to be, the roles society set up for them, and how they both defied it by becoming friends.

no, because don't get me started with how lillian said in the very beginning of the episode to lena: "live your life the way you want to live it." the insane queer metaphors and parallels with her magic being programmed out of her as a kid because 'it wasn't how the luthor family was supposed to be".

lena turning to kara in that conversation, saying she's finally living her own life and it feels amazing, inviting kara to join her and go through and take on that journey together. kara wondering how it would feel like to connect with someone as her full self NOT KNOWING THAT PERSON IS RIGHT IN FRONT OF HER? lena just responding "i think it'd be empowering" WISTFULLY? i can't do this guys i sobbed.

like TF DO YOU MEAN "i didn't get to grow up to be the person i was supposed to be, and i think it's the same for you" and "i give people speeches on how to live their best lives, but i'm too afraid to live my own".

also, ain't no way they killed off william AND made mon-el come back JUST to confirm that ship was never becoming canon. the writers really said yeah, both of them will be the only people at the wedding with absolutely no other love interests except each other!!

finally, on a less serious note, in that last cat + kara conversation, the way she said-

"i just feel..."

"bi...furcated?"

and i was like LMAO WAS CAT JUST GONNA SAY "KARA, YOU'RE BI GIRLIE."

tl;dr: that was an insane show to go through, i can only imagine how the fans reacted, but man. queerbaiting's really something isn't it. i'm gonna cry and read more supercorp fanfiction.

[marinawolf]

I think that your constant and downright delusional shipping of supercorp is sick. Don't you think that if they were meant to be gay, the show would have made them gay? There was no queerbating in supergirl because THEY WERE BOTH CANONICALLY STRAIGHT AND NOTHING EVER HAPPENED BETWEEN THEM.

Your fics are ridiculous delusions. Kara had more chemistry with mon-el and Lena really did have good chemistry with James.

The show already had a lesbian couple endgame so if there was any truth to Supercorp, they would have made it endgame.

Supergirl is not gay and Lena was not into her. In fact, Lena was pretty shitty as a friend to her. Imagine if a man used Kryptonite on Kara- you would think it was disgusting, wouldn't you?

So please stop. I love Supergirl (as it is in CANON) and my feed is constantly plagued by supercorp content. It's hard to even avoid at this point.

You're a good writer just write about better things bestie.

lol what

get off my blog, then. You're cordially invited to fuck off, "bestie". ❤️

You know you can filter stuff, right?

I'm not going to even argue with your nonsense here, because frankly, it isn't worth it.

Supercorp makes me happy. I will continue posting fics.

[supercorpkid]

When Was It Over?

Supergirl. Kara Danvers x Reader!

Word Count: 2121.

Notes: not a happy ending, sorry.

Kara Danvers has known the sting of a heartbreak on many occasions.

Kenny was her high school sweetheart and he has literally died. Mon-El had to leave the Present or he would die as well. William also died, granted they weren’t together together, but she can't even imagine what would have happened if they were. 

Now as she watches you leaving her apartment, she can feel her heart being torn apart and she knows she will not get over it. She will never be able to recover. Kara Danvers will never be the same after this heartbreak. 

But not like she wasn't her true self when Mon-El left. How she was a blubbering mess, crying and rolling on her bed to find it empty and how her heart was somehow emptier. Kara really thought that was the worst thing she would feel in her life. Forget about kryptonite, that heartbreak was one for the books. Life was so good, almost perfect and then faith or whatever it was just snatched from her and she was alone.

And yet, this heartbreak feels worse of all. Feels like Kara's ground just got pulled under her feet and she feels like Alice, falling, slumping, downward into the rabbit hole. And while she spins out of control, no breath left in her lungs, no words out of her mouth, no heart doing its job, she sees your eyes.

Kara will never laugh again. Not in the same way, anyway. Your jokes were the best. Tailored to her sense of humor. One that most people didn't even get. And she knew you did it on purpose, to get a laugh out of her. When she laughed your face would light up and her heart would swallow on her chest.

She doesn't know what to say. Doesn't know how to describe it. Right now you're leaving with a piece of her, her favorite one, and so she is hollow and lonely, so terribly broken she doesn't know where to even start.

Because you are not leaving her life unwanted. You're making this decision and she doesn't know if this searing pain will ever cease to burn her heart and the pit of her stomach, and if this wound will ever truly heal.

"Don't go." She thinks she begs out of her mouth. Tasting salt out of her tears, and the bitter tang of your leaving. A sharp pain on her heart like it's going to give out soon.

But you keep going. No words uttered out loud. No sound. No noise, except your hand on the handle, and your feet on the floor.

"Please." Kara is sure her voice came out this time, so loud in the deafening silence, it almost startled her.

"You know," You don't turn around. Can't, or you might not ever leave. Heart squeezed so tight, you wonder how it is that the words are leaving your mouth in the first place. "I really thought it was you."

Kara would never have to ask what. She was everything. And yet she almost hears the word leaving her mouth. She holds it back, having a million other questions fighting on her brain, but she knows she won't get the answer to them all, so she needs the perfect one. The question that will make you stay. The question that might bring her peace. 

"When was it over?"

To that question you can't help but stop and turn around. Breathe caught on your lungs.

"I –" You blink, thinking about the answer. You don't know, which is weird. How can you not know when this was over? How can you not know why you're leaving the life of the person you were so sure you were going to spend the rest of your life with? 

The question grows inside you. Turned into a moment filled with tension, heaviness, and yet it almost feels sacred. There's no air left between you and Kara anymore. Nothing but a suffocating and deafening silence. 

She is the first one to speak again. "Was it that night you didn't care where I've been?"

Kara slipped in, late at night. You're almost asleep, but you still noticed her. She didn't look like she was in any Supergirl emergency. She stunk of beer. She wasn't drunk, though. You know it would take almost all the beer in the word for Kara to be drunk, but still she was being louder than she usually is. 

Her cold hand glided through your stomach and you flinched, escaping her touch. "Go to sleep. You stink of alcohol." You moved farther away from her.

"Aren't you going to ask me where I was?" She sounded offended.

"I don't care."

"What?" You finally turned around to look at her. Kara had her brows furrowed, crinkle in the middle of her forehead, confusion crossing her face as if you just said something crazy.

"I'm trying to sleep." You explained, but she huffed, annoyed. 

"Don't let me get in the way of that." Kara stood up, and she was quick to fly away from the same window she flew in.

You blink your memories of that night away. That wasn't it, but it surely didn't help.

"No. No, it wasn't that night."

Kara's eyes are full of tears, looking around, trying to remember more things. Trying to find out when this was done.

"Was it when I met your friends and acted indifferent?"

"Why are you mad? I – I had to go. I'm sorry I didn't stay there and chat with your college friends. Honestly, I had more important things to do!"

"Oh, I'm sorry my friends are not secret agents trying to save the world! But they are important to me, and it was important for me that you'd meet them."

Kara breathed out. "I did! I met the cheery lady and her sad-looking husband. I heard them talking about their new baby, but I had to save people from a car crash." 

"It's not about leaving! It's about acting like you're above them."

"I didn't do that." You snorted at her lie. "Just because I said her husband couldn't be the smartest man on Earth? I have a friend who's literally a 12th-level-intellect! That man only knew how to talk about stocks! And he was so boring."

You blinked at her, tired, exhausted from this fight. "Yeah." 

"Wait, you're agreeing with me? You also think he is boring?"

"No Kara. I'm just too tired to fight. Too tired for this."

She wouldn't see it. Kara thinks her friends are much better than yours. And they might be, anyways. You love her friends, but hey, your friends aren't so bad.

"Fine. You're too tired. I should go then."

You breathed out. "Yeah."

"I'm sorry." She finally says, a whole two months later. "Sad-looking-husband and overcompensating-cheery-lady are fine!"

"You didn't even bother learning their names!" You yell, but something brings you back to it. This isn't it. This is not the reason why you're leaving Kara, so it won't do you any good getting mad about it right now. "Whatever. It doesn't matter anymore. You will never have to see my horrible friends again. You should be thrilled about that."

"I'm not. I'm not thrilled about any of this, but I need to know. If your friends aren't the reason why you're leaving me, then what is?"

"Why does it matter? It's not going to change my mind. You saying sorry months later won't change my mind!"

"I need to know when it was over! When was I dancing with the ghost of you?"

You blink. The question hits you hard. When did you become a ghost in this relationship? 

"Was it that time Mon-El came from the future?"

Oh yeah, here's Mon-El making his appearance right on time. Right when she mentions ghosts. Of course he would come back to haunt you guys again.

"Was that after or before you met the president, you fibber?"

"I'm not lying!" Kara defended herself, after a burst of laughter. She looked around the park and dropped her voice. "You're just jealous you've never been to Mars."

"You're right. Sounds like you had the time of your life fighting White Martians. I so wish I was there." You joked and she pulled you by your waist, a smile dangling on her face. Faces so close you knew what was coming next.

"Kara?" You heard a man's voice and both of you looked in the direction of it. Wait, you know this dude. Kara's hands left your waist, the distance grew huge. It was a matter of seconds, but you could cut the tension between them with a knife.

"Mon-El!" She exclaimed in total shock. "Rao, you're back from the future."

Mon-El. Her ex. That's where you knew him from.They exchanged amenities. You were not introduced, talked to, or acknowledged even once. 

"So I'll see you back at the Tower?" He asked and she agreed vividly. 

"I'm right behind you." And she was, indeed, almost flying away behind him when you cleared your throat and she noticed you. "Oh!" Kara looked back at you like she's never seen you before. "Would you like a ride home?"

"A what?" You asked in shock. No. Not possible. She wouldn't. 

"Well, he is here from –" She whispered. "the future. It has to be important. I have to go see what's going on."

You stared at her in disbelief. She wasn't joking. Nope. Your girlfriend of a very long time that was on a date in the park with you, was going to run off to her ex-boyfriend the second he showed up.

"So," Kara insisted, when you didn't talk for a while. "Ride or –?"

"I'll walk home." 

"Oh, cool. See you tonight then." 

And then she left.

"I don't know, Kara. I can't just pinpoint it to one moment."

"When was it over for you, Y/N?" Her voice comes out full of anger, so loud it's almost a yell. "When was the moment you knew you'd walk out eventually?"

"I don't know!" You answer in the same tone, with the same anger. 

"You're leaving! Gosh Y/N, you're leaving –" Her voice breaks, and it comes in a whisper so easy to hear, the gnawing pain in your heart gets stronger. "me."

"You know it's over. Don't do this now, Kara. We've been growing apart for so long, you'd have to be absolutely out of yourself not to have noticed." 

"So you don't even wanna try? Don't wanna talk about it? Won't figure it out?"

"Kara."

She comes closer. One single bold stride towards you, closing the huge distance in half. "What would it take for you to stay?"

And that's when it hits you. You know exactly when it was over for you, and weirdly that brings a smile to your face because it feels good to finally understand why you and Kara Danvers will never work out.

"I needed you to stay." Kara furrows her brows, cleans her tears on her sleeve. "That's when it was over. It was over a little every time I needed you to stay, but you left."

"But –"

"And you kept leaving me, didn't you? Huh."

You think back at all the moments she brought up as a reason to why it could've ended and you realize they all have one thing in common. Kara leaving. 

Supergirl, ex-boyfriends, imminent fights, work emergencies, and the list goes on. All of it was always more important or sometimes not important enough. No, she won't stay and have a fight with you, you're not important enough. No, she won't finish that date because Alex called, CatCo called, her stupid ex-boyfriend called. You'll walk home alone and you'll finish that dinner by yourself, you'll wake up to an empty bed and you'll get the dial tone. 

You'll think about jumping from really tall somethings, just so you can be an emergency so you'll get her to stay. 

"You know, when you said forever, I almost bought it. But the truth is, you were my forever and I was your in-betweens. And I deserve more than that." You breathe out. Finally. You can finally feel the air back in your lungs, in the atmosphere, right in the middle of the distance between the two of you. 

"What now?" Comes in a heart-breaking whisper. Kara drops on her knees, face soaked with tears, clear ache in her heart. You're feeling free, but you can tell she isn't feeling the same, and you know it might take her a long while to feel the same. 

"Now?" You look back at the door, hand on the handle one more time, ready to go. "Now I'll be the one doing the leaving. And this is what our forever will be like."

And so you're gone.

[pjsk-headcanons]

i think we should get more theater kid kohane. like imagine early on in vbs akito still doesnt believe in her singing abilities so challenges her to sing a whole song without breathing. and theres very few songs she knows the whole way through and well enough to sing them faster to make it. so she sighs heavily, resigns herself to this fate, and quietly whispers "seventeen seventy six. new york city." before looking up at him with the most determined eyes and singing at the top of her lungs (while staring directily at him) "pardon me are you arron burr sir that depends whos asking oh sure sir im alexander hamilton im at your service sir i have been looking for youimgettingnervoussiriheard you name the princetown i was seeking an excellerratedcourse of study whn i got sort of out of sorts with a buddy of yours i may have punched him its a blur sir he handles the financials you punched the bursur yes i wanted to do what you did graduate in two and join the revolution he looked at me like i was stupid" (this section very pointed) "im not stupid." (BREATH) "so howd you do it howd you graduate so fast it was my parents dying wish before they passed youre an orphan of course i wish there was a war then we could prove that were worth more than anyone bargined for can i buy you a drink that would be nice while were talking let me offer you some free advice" (this section said with regular rythmn bc it is a crime not to) "talk less. what. smile more dont let them know what youre against or what youre for you cant be serious you wanna get ahead yes fools who run their mouths off wind up dead" "a yayowyayoa what time is it" (finger guns toya) "showtime!! like i said ayayowyayayow yo im john lawrence in the place to be a two pints a sam addams and im workin on three ya those redcoats dont wanna believe that i will bam chickabam those hats till im free a oui oui mon ami jmmapelle laffeyete" (i dont speak french idk man sorry) "the lancelot of the revolutionary set i came from afar just to say bon swa to the king cassoutire whos the best say moi brah brah i am hercules mulligan upping it loving it yeah i heard your mother say come again ayy kinda hard to have intercourse o'er four sets o coursets wow no more sex pour me another brew son lets raise a couple more to the revolution well if it aint the prodigy of bryston college arron burr drop a verse drop some knowledge" (BREATH) "well good luck with that youre taking a stand you spit imma sit well see where we land well the revolutions imminant whadda stall for if you stand for nothing burr whatll you fall for o who are you who are you who are you o who is this kid and whats hes gonna do i am not throwin away my shot i am not throwin away my shot yk im just like this country im young scrappy and hungry and im not thrownin away my shot imma get a scholarship to kings colledge prolly shouldnt brag but dawg i amaze i astonish problem is i gotta lotta brains but no polish gotta holler just to heard with every word i drop knowledge im a diamond in the rough shinin piece o coal tryin reach a goal pow'r speech unimpeachable only nineteen but ma mind is older these new york city streets gimme colder a shoulder every burden every disadvantage i have learnt to manage i dont have a gun to brandish i walk these streets famished the power to ponder to spark a new flame but damn its gettin dark so let me spell out my name i am the ay el! ee ex! ee en dee! ee ar we are! meant to be a coleny that runs independantly who needs britan keep shittin on us endlessly essentially they tax us relelntlessly then king george turns around and runs a spendin spree they aint never gonna set our decendents free so there will be a revolution in this century and to me he says in parenthisis dont be shocked when your history book mentions me i will lay down my life just to set us free eventually youll see my acendency!" (BREATH) "do you want me to keep going because i can" "i am both impressed and horrified."

kohane proceeds to teach toya the entirety of six. theres a specific line that gets stuck in his head every time and kohane spits out her drink when toya mumbles "all you wanna do, all you wanna do baby - touch me, love me, dont say maybe" while running his hand through akitos hair (who is oblivious)

minori and kohane scamper away to a hidden corner of miya at lunch break and shiho walks in on them singing a combanation of cringy idol songs and overhyped theater songs.

also she rearearaeearreally likes beetlejuice. vbs have a warmup where they take turns singing the song thats stuck in their head at that moment. kohane glances around. an gives her the thumbs up. "MOM. DEAD MOOOOOMOMOMOM I NEED A LITTLE HELP HERE. are you really in the ground? cause i feeeeeeeel you all areound me are you hear dead moooom dead mom. in skipping the middle. CAUSE DADDY'S IN DENIAL, DADDY DOESN'T WANNA FEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEL HE WANTS ME TO SMILE AND CLAP LIKE A PERFORMING SEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAAAL IGNORED IT FOR A WHILE BUT DADDYS LOST HIS MIND FOR REAL FOR REAL FOR REEEEAAAAAAAL YOU WONT BELEIVE THE MESS THAT WEVE BECOME DUN DUN DUN DUN" toya sitting there sweating and hoping that neither an nor akito can understand english that well because it would most definately bring up some unwanted memories.

and because its canon. she also LOVES wanadashow. going to school with OOTORI FUCKING EMU makes her a mess every time. her current vocal stims are "haha! you are king~" and "RULERRULERRULER ITS SHOW TIME HIGHERHIGHERHIGHER ITS SHOW TIME CRAZY CRAZY CRAZY CRAZY" and that just repeats until someone ducktapes her mouth

oh and! if someone asks her what time it is she'll always say "it's showtime." arata does this too and everyone thinks she picked it up from him. nope. its both a wanadashow and hamilton reference. (he'll never admit it but arata is also a hamilton fan. he saw it while he was in the states and something about it entranced him. probably how well the rap is written. it heavily inspires a lot of his music and kohane makes the homophobic dog face every time. thats why she was so surprised in walk on and on with soumas unfinished track!!!)

no i dont project onto her whahahahahahahahhahaahaaaaaat. my theater kid phase is coming back. - 🎲 anon

.

[yakuly]

𝐒𝐮𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐚 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐝𝐚

𝘽𝙖𝙣𝙜 𝘾𝙝𝙖𝙣 𝙭 𝙇𝙚𝙞𝙩𝙤𝙧𝙖

𝙋𝙖𝙡𝙖𝙫𝙧𝙖𝙨: 3.014

𝘼𝙫𝙞𝙨𝙤𝙨: Mask kink; tentativa de suspense; sexo desprotegido (pessoas gostosas usam camisinha!); sexo no espelho; palavrão; sexo explícito;

𝙉/𝘼: É como dizem: "quem é vivo sempre aparece"! Não tenho muito que dizer, apenas agradecer meu tiktok por me bombardear com edits do primeiro filme de Pânico, pois agora esse é meu novo hiperfoco :), apesar de nunca ter assistido o filme de fato – se ficou muito perceptivo, relevem, por favor!– Com isso + a beleza de Bang Chan, nasceu esse querido imagine aqui, que quase que não sai, mas para felicidade geral da nação, saiu. Será que podemos considerar como uma mini participação minha de Kinktober?

𝙉/𝘼²: Enquanto terminava de escrever, uma ideia de um segundo final, não muito fofo me ocorreu. E apesar de não ser meu gênero de escrita, resolvi tentar mesmo assim. Então caso alguém queira ler o imagine (sim, postarei o imagine inteiro, mon amours!) mas com um final alternativo, basta clicar aqui em baixo:

[ 𝐅𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐥 𝐚𝐥𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐨 ]

01° de outubro, e para Christopher Bang isso significa apenas uma coisa: uma namorada feliz e levemente assustadora. Outubro é simplesmente seu mês favorito do ano todo, trazendo consigo as melhores temperaturas, as melhores atividades, as melhores maratonas de filmes, e claro, o arrepio na nuca do terror e do horror do halloween.

Uma das primeiras coisas que Chris aprendeu sobre – e amar – você foi a sua paixão pela época do ano, tratando a festividade quase como um feriado religioso. Todo final de setembro você começa a preparar um planner bem detalhado e recheado para outubro, e claro, maratona de filmes clássicos estão sempre presentes, independente da ordem.

Como um bom namorado, Christopher sabe exatamente qual a sua franquia de filmes favorita: "Pânico". Mais especificamente, o primeiro, lançado em 1996. Quando te perguntou em um dia qualquer, o rapaz não esperava ver seus olhos brilharem tanto, com tanta animação que o pegou desprevenido.

"Meu Deus, esse filme é o melhor! Olha, eu sei que muita gente prefere os outros, mas esse é um clássico dos clássicos! Os primeiros ghostfaces, as falas icônicas, a Sydney..."

Chris percebeu também a sua paixão pelo assassino mascarado. Não somente pelos personagens Billy e Stu, mas pela figura mascarada. Ele não conseguia ignorar como sua respiração ficava descompassada sempre que ele entra em cena, pronto para levar a vida de um personagem; ou omodo como você acabava por esfregar uma cona ma outro, pendendo a cabeça para o lado, no que pareciam ser suas cenas favoritas.

E apesar do seu interesse fictício ser um pouco incomum, seu namorado Christopher que te ama tanto quer fazer uma bela surpresa de Halloween!

...

É uma sexta-feira qualquer na sua vida, seguindo rigorosamente seu planejamento mensal, com um balde de pipoca e sua franquia de filmes favorita, mas sem seu namorado, que precisou cancelar a noite do filme pois tinha uma reunião muito importante na JYPE. Uma pena mesmo!

"Quem foi o assassino no primeiro ato?" Você assiste a voz mascarada perguntar à personagem da Jena Ortega. "Billy Loomis!" No momento em que a garota diz ao telefone você rola os olhos colocando mais pipoca na boca.

"Ah, desculpa Tara, mas não está certo..." Absorta na cena você repete as falas junto ao assassino "A resposta certa é Billy Loomis e Stu Macher. São dois assassinos no ato original"

— Viu? Se não tivesse esquecido do Stu você não morreria, vadia burra!

Infelizmente seu telefone começa a tocar, mas no identificador consta apenas um número desconhecido que você ignora. 1 vez... 2 vezes... 3 vezes, até você atender frustrada com a interrupção.

— Alô? — atende passando o filme. Nos primeiros segundos só consegue ouvir uma respiração abafada, então decide desligar, mas a voz se manifesta do outro lado da linha.

"Olá S/n." a voz abafada soa arrastada, e um arrepio sobe a sua espinha. Você olha novamente a identificação apenas para encontrar as palavras "número desconhecido" brilhando.

— Quem é você? —pergunta obviamente confusa, e já deixando o pote de pipocas de lado.

"Alguém que te conhece muito, muito bem"

Seu coração começa a bater mais forte e rápido. Você tenta se recordar se viu alguma notícia de morte suspeita, mas nada, e apesar de seu consciente começar a brigar com você mesma, não consegue deixar de lado o pensamento de que finalmente um louco da cabeça resolveu trazer Pânico para a vida real, e escolheu logo você como sua primeira vítima.

— Você acha que eu vou cair nessa brincadeirinha? Uma cópia mal feita do filme...— Você tenta soar o mais confiante possível, apesar de já estar duvidando da realidade.

"Tudo bem, vamos brincar de verdade ou verdade..." a voz diz, e você se agarra ao telefone, enquanto a imagem congelada do próprio ghostface te encara no filme pausado. "Eu falo um fato sobre você, e você me confirma se é verdade, certo?"

— T-tudo bem...

"É verdade que você ama Halloween" a primeira pergunta é feita, e você demora um pouquinho de tempo para responder, deixando a pessoa estranha impaciente "Responde S/n, é verdade?"

— Sim...é sim.

"Ótimo. Próxima pergunta...é verdade que você ama os filmes de Pânico?" Dessa vez você confirma mais rápido, e o outro lado da linha parece bem satisfeito. Você sente seu coração bater mais rápido a cada segundo que passa, assim como sua respiração, e você tenta ao máximo não deixar transparecer, ao mesmo tempo que decide se deve olhar na janela ou não. "Você está indo bem...é verdade que você tem um namorado?"

— Sim, é verdade...o-o que você quer com ele?

"É verdade que seu namorado faria de tudo por você?" Meu Deus, o que essa pessoa tem com Chris?! Você confirma pensando no seu namorado perfeito e no quanto você o ama. "Lembre-se disso, pimpolho." E com isso a ligação é encerrada.

Pimpolho? As únicas pessoas que te chamavam assim eram seus pais até os seus 12 anos, e nunca mais ninguém soube disso...A não ser...Christopher. poderia Bang Chan estar por trás disso?

A sua mente gira em círculos tentando entender o que está acontecendo, quando um vulto surge no seu corredor entre as escadas e a sala, sendo iluminado pela luz da cozinha. A primeira coisa que você vê é a máscara de ghostface te encarando, mas ao invés da capa e luvas, era uma roupa e um corpo que você reconheceria em qualquer lugar. Calças pretas justas, e a camisa preta que você o presenteou, que felizmente era incrivelmente justa ao corpo, com um coração vermelho se derramando no peito.

Você finalmente entende. Seu namorado perfeito armou um jeito de ser o seu ghostface no seu mês favorito, do melhor jeito possível. E de repente, o nervosismo se tornou excitação, e você estava pronta para pular nele. Bang Chan do lado mascarado, lê o seu comportamento corporal, percebendo que você entendeu o que estava acontecendo, observando como seus olhos o devoravam, como a sua cabeça pendeu levemente pro lado, e você passou a morder seu lábio. Excelente! O plano deu certo!

Os dois se encaram por longos segundos, enquanto um sorriso malicioso surge no canto do seu lábio, enquanto Chris faz o movimento de cabeça igual ao do personagem cinematográfico. Você se levanta do sofá, e anda lentamente, se aproximando do rapaz, aproveitando para movimentar bem os quadris no ato.

— Então, você me me ligou...— não é uma pergunta, apenas uma estatação da situação, que é confirmada por ele — eu tenho um namorado, sabia?! — você argumenta tentando ser convincente, mas piscando "inocentemente" para a máscara impassível — mas você não se importa, não é? — é como resposta o homem nega com a cabeça. Sorrindo, você repete uma das cenas icônicas do filme: — Você quer brincar de assassino psicopata? — Chris confirma com a cabeça, e você continua, fazendo uma voz falsa de vitima de filme — tá, tudo bem... por favor não me mate Sr. Ghostface! Eu quero estar na sequência!

Sorrindo você tenta passar pelo corpo do rapaz, acreditando que ele iria te seguir, mas ele te pega de surpresa, te pressionando na parede do corredor, com a mão firme em seu pescoço, pressionando no local certo para arrancar o ar dos seus pulmões, te fazendo revirar os olhos.

— Que tal uma brincadeirinha diferente? — Abafada pela máscara a voz de Christopher fica aindamais atraente, e o fato do rosto do homem estar tão próximo do seu não ajudava em nada na sua excitação. Perdida em pensamentos impuros e ávidos para as brincadeiras de verdade, você demora va entender que ele tinha começado a contar, e então precisou de um esforço maior para perceber que você precisava correr e se esconder.

...5... A escada que liga os andares do casa pareciam ter dobrado de quantidade, e mesmo subindo 2 de cada vez, eles pareciam não ter fim ...

...4... você só tem duas opções para se esconder : seu banheiro, ou seu quarto. Ambas as portas te encaram, mas você não consegue se decidir qual a melhor opção...

...3... ao olhar o banheiro, seu cérebro tenta enlistar os possíveis lugares para se esconder, mas apesar da falta de luminosidade, você não tem muitas opções...

...2... tem o gabinete embaixo da pia, mas você não cabe, já que ele é pequeno de mais, e ir para atrás da cortina da banheira, é a ideia mais ridículo do mundo! Então você só tem uma opção...

...1... tudo bem, você conseguiu chegar a tempo no quarto! Está tido sob controle, você ainda tem tempo! Mas onde se esconder? Embaixo da cama? Dentro do armário? Atrás do guarda roupa?

É o momento em que você percebe que o andar de baixo está muito silencioso. O mascarado não estava mais contando e você não ouvia passos. Tentando raciocinar o que pode ter acontecido, seus olhos se movem pelo quarto, até pararem na janela, que no momento também parecia um espelho, mostrando a figura de preto logo atrás de você.

— Por favor...— Você súplica se virando de frente para ele, e as mãos do rapaz vão direto para seu pescoço novamente, te fazendo revirar os olhos. Tentando continuar no teatro, e não demonstrar o quão excitada está, usa a sua voz mãos desesperada, segurando o braço que te segurava. — eu faço o que quiser...

— Ah...música para meus ouvidos...

Usando a outra mão livre, o homem a prende nos seus cabelos na nuca, te puxando para baixo, te fazendo se ajoelhar. Você entende o comando de cabeca lhe dado, e abre o cinto que segura a calça preta justa, e assim que abre a peça, a desce até seus joelhos, junto com sua cueca, liberando seu membro já ereto. Sua boca saliva com a visão: seu namorado com a máscara mais atraente do mundo, com a camisa mais gostosa do mundo, com o pau mais delicioso do mundo, te encarando.

Pegando o pênis que já estava melecado de pré gozo, você o coloca na boca, sentindo o peso delicioso na sua boca. Movimentando sua cabeça lentamente, em um movimento de vai e vem, o olhando com grandes olhos pidões. Mas o rapaz não tem planos de te deixar no comando, usando a mão na sua nuca, para se forçar para dentro da sua boca, te surpreendendo enquanto ele solta um grunhido alto de satisfação.

Christopher estava cada vez mais incisivo com seus movimentos, não só com a mão, pressionando seu rosto contra o dele, mas também movimentando os quadris contra sua boca, fazendo seu membro chegar até a ponta da sua garganta, e voce pressionar suas unhas nas coxas masculinas, tentando nao se perder na situação. Seu namorado sempre foi mais dominante no quarto, mas dessa vez a máscara parecia ter libertado uma fera que ele tentava prender. Fera essa que fodia sua boca e preenchia o quarto com gemidos roucos e abafados pela máscara

Você sente as veias do seu membro ficarem mais grossas, e o pênis do rapaz se contrair na sua boca, indicando que ele estava perto do orgasmo, mas ele se retira da sua boca, ato que você não gosta nenhum pouco, tentando o pegar novamente, mas recebendo um leve tapa na mão para te afastar. Bang Chan observa seus olhos vítreos, as bochechas vermelhas, e o modo como a saliva se mistura com seus próprios fluidos ainda conectaram seu pênis com a sua boca. Como ele queria poder gravar essa cena para sempre!

Ele passa a mão por seu rosto, te acariciando, e claro você aproveita o momento. Com uma ordem abafada, ele te auxilia a ficar de pé, te fazendo caminhar até o pé da sua cama, onde te coloca de quatro, de frente para um espelho que você tinha certeza que ficava do outro lado do quarto. O rapaz enrola seu cabelo no pulso, fazendo como um nada eficiente rabo de cavalo, mas um cabresto bem útil.

Bang chan puxa sua cabeça pra trás, te fazendo grunir de dor, excitação e surpresa, sua máscara se aproximando lentamente do seu ouvido. "Novo joguinho, vamos ver se você vai ser melhor nesse, tudo bem?" Apesar das palavras ameaçadoras, você não conseguia sentir nada além de excitação. Ainda no teatro, você confirma com a cabeça avidamente "Você só pode gozar, quando eu disser, entendido?"

O corpo do moreno se afasta de você apenas para poder te livrar dos seus shorts e calcinha, que estava extremamente molhada com a sua excitação. Se posicionando atrás de você, Christopher afasta suas pernas, se alinhando na sua boceta. Ao invés de te penetraram de uma vez, o mascarado brinca com o próprio membro, o melecando com a sua excitacao, ao mesmo tempo vendo sua reação através do espelho. O modo como tombou a cabeça, jogando sua bunda delicioso para trás, em busca de mais dele.

Com um forte tapa em uma das suas nádegas ele te segura pela cintura, e te penetra, arrancando o ar dos seus pulmões. Suas estocadas começam lentas, mas precisas, saindo completamente de você, só para poder entrar novamente, mas ainda mais fundo. Ele coloca o corpo sob o seu, puxando seu cabelo novamente, mas posicionando sua cabeça para que você veja bem o reflexo de seus corpos se movimento em cada estocada.

— Olhos no espelho garotinha, se você parar, eu paro. Entendido?

Com você repetindo sim, e implorando pra ele não parar, Christopher sorri dentro da máscara. Ele sempre amou a garotinha obediente dele, e sabia que hoje não seria diferente.

O rapaz levanta a camisa grande do seu corpo (que na realidade você o roubou), e massageia seu seio, brincando com um de seus mamilos, arrancando um gemido mais agudo da sua doce boquinha. Ele então passa a estocar mais rápido, te fazendo revirar os olhos, e quando você os fecha por dois segundos para se concentrar em não gostar, ele para. Abrindo os olhos, você resmunga "não...por favor..." e Chris repete o movimento de cabeça dos personagens que você tanto ama, sentindo sua boceta se contrair com ele dentro.

— Olhos no espelho princesa! — ele avisa, arrastando o modo de falar, cada segundo se parecendo ainda mais com os primeiros assassinos.

Bang chan volta com as estocadas, mas ele estaria mentindo se dissesse que não estava prestes a gozar. A visão de te ter de quatro, seu rosto no espelho se contorcendo de pazer, com a bochecha ainda molhada com fluidos dos dois, as bochechas ruborizadas e os olhos lutando para ficarem abertos, o encarando com um desejo hipnotizador. Sua boceta tão quente e molhada, o fazendo deslizar como nunca, e sua própria excitação melecando não somente sua bunda, mas também como a virilha e as coxas dele. Você está em todo lugar, e é por isso que ele decidiu fazer essa surpresa em primeiro lugar.

Seu namorado mascarado abaixa seu tronco no colchão, fazendo seu quadril ficar mais alto, e ele ter acessos mais profundos. Aumentando a velocidade das estocadas, mas sem te dar nenhuma permissão. Como imaginado seus gemidos aumentam de volume, e suas unhas se prendem no colchão, e a cama passa a fazer muito barulho, batendo contra a parede.

— Por favor...por favor, eu preciso gozar! — você começa a pedir quando sente o no no estômago começar a ficar cada vez mais forte, e Bang Chan acertar seu ponto G. Você não poderia aguentar por muito tempo.

—Implora pra mim, meu amor. — Christopher comanda, parando apenas para te ouvir pedir, com mais clareza. — Auto e bom tom. Auto o suficiente pro seu namoradinho te ouvir implorar pra um cara que você não conhece terminar de te comer de jeito! — ele manda e você o faz.

— Por favor! Por favor senhor ghostface! Me faz gozar como nunca! Por favor!

Satisfeito, o moreno volta a estocar como antes, rápido e preciso, te segurando firme contra o colchão. O nó no seu estômago, volta a se apertar, o ar dos seus pulmões some, e você não consegue mais manter o olhar no espelho. Seu namorado não estava muito atrás, tendo a mesma sensação no próprio corpo, sentindo seu abdômen se contrair, e seu membro começar a se contrair também. Em questão de segundos, com ambos os gemidos preenchendo o quarto, os dois gozam juntos.

Ambas as respirações estão rápidas e pesadas, quando Christopher finalmente tira a máscara, mostrando sua bochecha também vermelha do calor da máscara, e das sua ultima atividade, e ele completamente descabelado ppr conta da forma em que ele tirou a máscara do rosto. Ele sai de dentro de você, espalhando o gozo dos dois pela cama.

Você apaga por alguns segundos, enquanto seu namorado sorri com a sua moleza e limpa seu corpo, e da um jeito de trocar a roupa de cama, enquanto você deita na mesma, uma tarefa difícil, mas que ele conseguiu mesmo assim.

Quando você finalmente acorda, está deitada sob o peito do moreno, enquanto ele te faz cafuné. Piscando algumas vezes você grune sentindo dor por quase o corpo todo. Christopher sorri docemente pra você.

— Bem vinda de volta meu amor! — ele sorri te apertando contra ele. Você sorri se aconchegante no cheiro reconfortante do seu namorado. — Como se sente?

— Como se você tivesse tirado meus órgãos do lugar. — Você grune e ele solta uma risadinha. — Não acredito que preparou isso pra mim!

— Eu sei que você ama Halloween e que fica excitada quando assiste Pânico. — ele comenta, recebendo um leve tapa de você, que fica envergonhada. Após alguns segundos de silêncio, o moreno pergunta: —Você realmente achou que ficou mal feito?

— O que?! — você se levanta, ficando apoiada no próprio braço pra poder observar seu namorado mais atentamente. — Você realmente me enganou! Eu só comecei a falar aquilo pra ver se você parava de me assustar! Eu realmente amei.

A sinceridade no seu olhar e voz fizeram o coração de Christopher bater mais rápido. Um lindo sorriso surge em seu rosto, e ele te puxa para um beijo lento e amoroso. Distribuindo beijos por seu rosto, ele faz uma excelente proposta:

— O que acha de um segundo round no banheiro? Dessa vez com mais calma, romance e com seu namorado, hum?

E é sempre difícil de negar um pedido tão especial como esse.

[skzoombie]

temas: desabafo, culpa e medo

sinopse: namorar o ex da sua melhor amiga estava te afogando em culpa, e vocês precisavam conversar sobre isso.

artista: charles leclerc

-Mon amour, não gostou da comida? - escutou a voz do homem sentado na sua frente, do outro lado da mesa.

-Gostei, só estou sem muita fome - respondeu enrolando a massa no garfo e colocando na boca um pouco.

-S/n - ele parou de comer e ficou observando você, como se estivesse aguardando algo.

Ele ergueu levemente as sobrancelhas, você suspirou e parou de comer também.

-Você ligou para ela ontem? - questionou baixo.

Charles franziu a testa, suspirou alto e passou a mão no rosto como se estivesse coçando toda a região.

-Óbvio que não - ele respondeu e você concordou com a cabeça.

-Eu mandei uma mensagem parabenizando, ela agradeceu e não falou mais nada - contou.

-Esperava o que? Ela ainda deve estar digerindo toda a situação - ele falou como se fosse óbvio atitude e bebeu gole do vinho que estava em uma taça.

-Por que parece que você não se importa? - você perguntou sentando com uma postura mais defensiva.

-Porque eu realmente não me importo - respondeu com frieza e cruzando os braços na mesa.

-Ás vezes você me assusta um pouco - disse piscando os olhos várias vezes.

-Por que eu supero meus antigos relacionamentos? Qual o seu problema? - questionou alterando o tom de voz.

-Medo, esse é o meu problema - respondeu direta - Se você superou um relacionamento de três anos em dois meses, como vai ser comigo então? Ela era minha melhor amiga, chorou no meu ombro com o término, Charles

O homem jogou a cabeça para trás como um movimento de frustração, respirou fundo e pegou a sua mão que estava em cima da mesa.

-S/n, você sabe muito bem que o relacionamento já estava ruim, foi inevitável o término, por que fica carregando essa culpa? - ele insistiu no motivo do seu sentimento.

-Você chegou a me desejar ainda quando namorava com ela? - perguntou com sinceridade.

-Não sei, acho que não - ele respondeu dando de ombros - E você?

-Não, jamais - negou com movimentos de cabeça.

-Então.. - ele disse com a intenção de aliviar a culpa.

Você concordou com a cabeça, soltou as mãos de ambos e levantou da mesa pegando os pratos para levar até a pia.

Charles negou com a cabeça e ficou observado seu escape instantâneo, finalizou de tomar o vinho que estava na taça e também levantou da cadeira.

Sentiu a aproximação do namorado por trás e percebeu quando ele movimentou os braços em volta da sua cintura. Charles cheirou seu pescoço e fez carinho na região onde estava com as mãos.

-Não queria parecer um babaca com o que disse antes, mas é que para mim tudo ficou para trás - falou baixo perto do seu ouvido - Só quero viver esse momento com você.

Você concordou com a cabeça, sorriu fraco e abraçou as braços que estavam na volta da cintura. Fechou os olhos quando sentiu ele deixando beijos no pescoço.

-Francês é a pior raça de homem - você falou fazendo o namorado parar os beijos e soltar uma gargalhada.

Virou o corpo na direção dele, suspirou baixo e fez um carinho no rosto do homem. Ficou observando os traços no rosto que era considerado o mais bonito da formula 1, concordou fraco com a cabeça e já imaginou os anos de terapia que precisaria depois que terminassem.

-Você vai pagar minha terapia pós o término - soltou para quebrar o clima e escutando novamente a risada dele.

-Mas você está pensando em terminar comigo? - perguntou erguendo a sobrancelha.

-O senhor já deve estar bem acostumado a saber que nada é para sempre - rebateu com olhar irônico.

-Por que você não se permite ser amada apenas uma vez? Essa ansiedade para o futuro vai te matar do coração - ele disse confuso.

-Eu sei, quer começar a pagar minha terapia agora? - ambos riram e se abraçaram instantaneamente.

-Promete se lembrar apenas dos bons momentos? - perguntou com o rosto no pescoço do namorado que abraçou mais forte seu corpo como resposta.

[agsbf]

Magia Winx!

STARDUST CRUSADERS X WINX!LEITORA (Headcanons Gerais) 

Sinopse: Imagine sua surpresa ao dormir pacificamente com sua Pixie em Alfea e acordar em um universo completamente novo, onde ao invés de bruxas e fadas serem a norma, existem humanos com personificações das almas em uma coisa chamada “Stand”? A situação fica ainda mais inusitada quando se junta a um grupo de pessoas com esses seres poderosos, onde o principal objetivo é matar um vampiro causador de infelicidade há gerações. 

Abdul: 

Mesmo tendo visto todo tipo de coisa, uma fada vinda de outro universo com uma micro criaturinha é algo que não esperaria nem em seus sonhos mais bizarros. Ele está em choque para dizer o mínimo. 

Tem várias perguntas referente ao seu mundo, especialmente quando você citou que os poderes dele lembravam “A chama do dragão” em Alfea, de sua amiga Bloom. 

Ouve atentamente cada história referente as Trix, Bruxas Ancestrais, Valtor, dentre outros vilões, além de se impressionar em como criaturas que julgava mitológicas são diferentes na vida real. 

Corrige a garota educadamente sempre que faz alguma afirmação errada sobre o planeta ou sobre Stands. 

Te auxiliou a não cometer tantas gafes na terra. 

Conversa muito com sua pixie, já que ela é extremamente faladora e curiosa. 

Acha sua transformação extremamente útil, já que permite que você voe livremente, além de potencializar seus poderes, mas não entende por que você luta descalça. 

A habilidade que mais te admira é a de cura e captação de magia obscura. 

Tem muita curiosidade para conhecer Magix, Linphea e Domino. 

Polnareff: 

Inicialmente? inconformado, depois? extremamente feliz, mas ainda inconformado. 

Faria diversas perguntas de acordo com o que sabe de fadas: “Vocês produzem um pó capaz de voar?”, “Podem transformar abóboras em carruagens?”, “Pode fazer com que o nariz de um inimigo cresça caso ele minta?” 

Também faria cantadas cafonas envolvendo sua espécie: “Mon amour, a poção da beleza deve ter sido criada por você no seu mundo, pois somente isso explicaria tamanha formosura”, “Ma chère, creio que aquelas bruxas que tanto me avisou me amaldiçoaram. O único encanto capaz de quebrar tal infortuno é um beijo.” 

Ele ensinaria algumas informações erradas sobre a terra por achar engraçado, te avisaria depois de dar umas boas risadas. 

Outro entusiasta das suas vivências, as favoritas são as mais inacreditáveis de terem acontecido. 

Acha que a transformação te deixa mais gostosa, sempre que te vê na forma de fada fica boquiaberto. 

Você teve que utilizar magia de cura nele mais vezes do que é possível contar. 

Possui uma relação boa com sua Pixie, porém de vez em quando discute por discordar de alguma coisa que a pequena disse (ele sempre perde). 

Já perguntou para ela como te seduzir e a resposta foi: “nascendo de novo.” 

Ele colocou a micro fada no mesmo nível que o Iggy depois disso. 

Tem vontade de visitar Solária. 

Jotaro: 

Sua primeira reação foi: “Mas que porra é essa?” Porém depois de se lembrar da existência de Stands e de um vampiro que usurpou do corpo de seu trisavô; uma fada vinda de outra dimensão não era algo para se impressionar. 

Finge não ter tanto interesse nas suas histórias, todavia ouve atentamente as que incluem os especialistas ou lutas complexas. 

Solta um: “yare yare daze/mas que saco!” sempre que você faz uma afirmação óbvia sobre algo que acabou de descobrir sobre o planeta terra. 

Te dá cobertura para nenhum inimigo te atacar enquanto se transforma. 

Na luta com N’Doul te fez carregá-lo voando em direção ao usuário, ao invés de deixar a tarefa para o stand de Iggy. 

Você ficou com dor nas costas. 

Nem rivais, nem amigos possui uma relação mediana com sua Pixie. 

 Gostaria de viajar para Fonte Rubra e usar os equipamentos dos especialistas. 

Kakyoin: 

Ficou estupefato para dizer o mínimo, é o tipo de coisa que ele esperaria ver em um filme de fantasia, não na vida real. 

Como um amante da cultura geek, faria todo tipo de pergunta sobre seu universo, desde referente a cultura até sistema de organização da sociedade. 

Surtou quando você disse sobre a tecnologia de Magix, potencializado 50x quando citou os jogos e competições existentes. 

Melhor amigo de sua Pixie, quando ambos se juntam é fato que começará uma conversa nerd. 

Acha sua transformação linda, e diferente de um certo francês não é malicioso com isso, a parte que mais acha bela são as assas. 

Não te passa conhecimentos falsos sobre a terra, mas ri discretamente caso você cometa alguma gafe, antes de avisar porque não deve fazer isso. 

Assim como o Jotaro, possui vontade de ver os equipamentos de Fonte Rubra. 

Tem como reinos favoritos Zenith e Andros, porém gostaria de explorar toda a dimensão mágica. 

Joseph: 

O mais descrente de todos. 

Não, fadas não existem, você é uma usuária de Stand e essa criaturinha que te acompanha é... bem, alguma coisa! 

Só passou a cogitar a possibilidade de realmente se tratar de um ser mitológico quando se transformou, mas ainda assim buscou achar uma resposta para isso. 

Depois de muito tempo finalmente aceitou, porém acha que algumas das suas histórias são mentiras. No mínimo irônico vindo de alguém que, quando mais novo, lutou contra 3 super-humanos com intolerância ao sol. 

Assim como um certo alguém, te acha gostosa na transformação em fada. 

Gosta da sua Pixie, apesar de não ser próximo. 

Iggy: 

Se une a sua Pixie para irritar Polnareff. 

Só para esclarecer:  

1-Referente as transformações: 

- A personagem está no nível enchantix. 

- Quando as personagens se transformam ficam dentro de um casulo. (canônico no desenho) 

- A transformação em fada é bem mais rápida do que pensamos, levando apenas míseros segundos para que todo o grupo se transforme e ela pode ser interrompida por ataques. (canônico no desenho) 

2- Referente aos poderes 

- S/n é capaz de ver stands. 

- Por uma questão de não deixar a personagem extremamente imbatível, os poderes foram reduzidos. 

3- Informações extra: 

Ela possui uma pixie com a personalidade da Digit, porém a pequena atua mais como uma conselheira. 

[t-marveland]

𝐃𝐂 | mon-el

Mon-el x Reader

Warning : aucun

Mots : 110

Masterlist

Cela fait quelque temps que Mon-el ressentait autre chose que de l'amitié pour toi mais il ne savait pas comment te le dire. Après une journée où il avait failli te prendre, il décida de t'avouer tout ce qu'il ressentait, quitte à te perdre.

❝━ Je t'aime (T/P)... Dit-il.❞

Il baissa la tête, ayant peur de ta réponse. Cependant, tu ne le rejetas pas comme ce qu'il pensait.

❝━ Moi aussi. Avouas-tu.❞

Il leva les yeux vers toi et tenta de déceler la vérité dans ce que tu disais. Quand il comprit que tu ne mentais pas, il sourit, soulagé et surtout heureux.

[winn-schott-throughtheheart]

anyone else like to imagine their faves with conditions or disabilities that don't align with your personal headcanons at all

the explosion at the funeral in 3x14 leaving winn schott a wheelchair user, with chronic pain, or using other mobility aids like crutches or canes, overcome with fresh hatred for his father and having to learn to live with his new body.

winn schott with ocd, whose compulsions and intrusive thoughts get worse when he starts working for the deo. his friends, his family, being supportive and understanding of this and trying their best to ease the anxiety when they can.

winn schott developing did as a result of all the trauma he had to endure as a kid. winn schott with hearing loss, who removes his hearing aids whenever he needs a bit of peace and quiet. winn schott with pots, who leans on the solid muscle of kara or mon-el when he feels faint. winn schott with a service animal, winn schott with arfid or diabetes.

please don't tell me this is just a me thing lol

[moistvonlipwig]

9 10 16 please? :D (cwsg, i’m sorry)

aye aye cap'n 🫡 under the cut for length

9. worst part of canon

I think it has to be Mon-El, who is so very terrible that even now he is stealing my ability to kvetch about other things. ...Luckily, this is my blog, so I can do what I want. So the other worst part of canon was the demonization and eventual murder of Manchester Black at J'onn's hands in the same season that saw James cozying up to the Children of Liberty (WHY) and the Superfriends insisting that killing them (the neo-Nazi analogues), even to prevent them from killing their marginalized alien targets, was Wrong and Bad.

(Crisis on Earth-X was pretty bad, too. Not sure how it didn't occur to any of the higher-ups that putting their heroes in Nazi uniforms in order to make them ~Cool Villains~ was maybe kind of a super fucking antisemitic thing to do.)

10. worst part of fanon

I was sorely tempted to just answer this with "el problema es el racismo," but thinking on it further that is technically the worst part of fandom, whereas fanon is generally understood to mean (a) post-colonial Marxist philosopher Frantz Fanon or (b) fan-constructed canon, i.e. headcanons that have become popular and widely accepted by many people in a fandom (sometimes to the point where people mistakenly believe that these headcanons are canon). I've already talked about my problems with the "Kara is a genius"/"Krypton is Advanced™ and Earth is Primitive™" take, as well as the "Lena never really cared about James" take; other popular fanon ideas I can't stand include "Clark is an asshole" (no >:( I like Clark), "J'onn is Alex and Kara's space dad" (citation needed), and "Eliza Danvers is the best mom ever" (when, lest we forget, Alex's whole Deal is a direct result of her Not being the best mom ever lol). Um...there's probably more but to be honest I'm blanking on what they would be.

16. you can’t understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

Hm, well, I could talk about general fanfic tropes I don't get but I prefer to stay fandom-specific in order to maximize damage from my biting and maiming. So I'll just expand on what I commented on your earlier post: I don't understand the appeal of the trope where Kara shows Lena Disney movies or imparts upon her the True Meaning of Christmas and thus transforms her life from one of forever sadness to one of joyful bliss. I'm not saying I don't like fics where Kara's presence in Lena's life improves her life -- ideally, I would imagine that both of them improve each other's lives. But the specific trope of "OMG, Lena had an abnormally wealthy and abusive childhood and thus has never done [normative thing for American (Christian) children to do that there is no canon evidence she hasn't done and also that is not necessary for healthy childhood psychological development], we must rectify this immediately!!!" baffles me.

[appropriatelystupid]

It’d be really interesting to study the history of trends in supercorp fic. Like for eg. I feel like Mon-El appearances really took a nose-dive after the show ended. Maybe it’s just the stuff I’ve been reading but I feel like he’s less present in fic now than he was in even the s6 era

idk but i imagine it dropped in s4 but also i think it became a collective realization that he wasn’t actually necessary to the story if you don’t want him

personally i only include him if he’s gonna be a good himbo bro to one of them (a la myiy vibes)

[mrowmrowmrow9]

@themoonfortress you probably don't even remember this, but a million years ago I asked for AU ideas and you mentioned a karamel witness protection AU where they have to pretend to be a couple. Surprise, I actually wrote like 1500 words and a rough outline for it, but somewhere along the way the inspiration petered out and I never ended up finishing it. While I'm sharing unfinished stuff, I thought you might like to see what I had <3 Sorry it never got to the publishing stage!

Reading it back I'm disappointed that I lost the groove, this was a lot of fun to imagine! The rest of the plot will remain a secret, just in case ;)

Title: Survivors

The apartment was tiny. Incredibly tiny.

And Mon-El didn’t just think that because he grew up spoiled rotten in a mansion—the space was literally smaller than his living room. He couldn’t for the life of him figure out how two people were supposed to live here together. If they had virtually no concept of personal space, maybe. But that’s not typical for a couple of perfect strangers.

It was a bit of a relief when his companion’s eyes widened comically, mirroring his as she took in the room. “It’s…so…small.”

“Yup,” Mon-El breathed out. 

“I mean, it’s about the same size as my apartment,” Kara continued and he cringed. “But for two people…”

Perfectly in sync, their eyes moved over to the single bed in the corner…the one that couldn’t possibly, by any stretch of the imagination, be meant for two people. 

“I’m sleeping on the couch,” he decided. 

Her head jerked over to him. “What? No, I’ll take the couch.”

He blinked, surprised by the sudden resistance. “It’s fine, I really don’t mind.”

“Well, I do. That thing’s barely bigger than the chair! You’re taller, so you take the bed.” 

Mon-El resisted the urge to groan out loud. He just wanted to sleep, preferably without feeling guilty about taking the more comfortable option. But of course she had to be stubborn about it. “Fine. Whatever, suit yourself.”

They dropped their bags on the table and Kara pointedly turned her back to rummage through her bag as he undressed. Kind of. They weren’t given any pajamas (or much of anything, really) but he settled for taking off his jacket and jeans and slipping into the bed in his t-shirt. 

It was even stiffer than it looked, the mattress paper-thin. Mon-El closed his eyes. He heard the sound of fabric rustling, and the creak of the couch spring as Kara laid down on it, followed by more creaking over the next several minutes as she attempted to get comfortable. He sighed and buried his face into the pillow.

After a while he heard a disgruntled huff, and then there were footsteps and the mattress dipped with the weight of another body.

“Look, can you, uh…”

Mon-El shifted enough for her to crawl in behind him, against the wall. She’d followed his lead and stripped down to a t-shirt and socks, her bare legs brushing his as they jostled together, trying to get comfortable. The bed really wasn’t meant for two people. Finally they settled with him on his back, taking up most of the space (it was only fair, he reasoned somewhat grumpily, he had been there first) and her curled on her side with her back to the wall. Try as they might, the bed wasn’t quite big enough to avoid touching and her knee pressed into his thigh, her arm grazing his shoulder. 

“Sweet dreams,” Mon-El muttered, and hoped sleep would come for him quickly. 

***

It did. But not without a price. 

He dreamt of the day it all started, the day his life came crashing down around him. And coincidentally…the day he met her.

“It’s an honor to meet you, Mr. Gand.”

“Please, it’s just Mon-El. Mr. Gand is what everyone calls my father.”

Kara awkwardly chuckled along with him and withdrew her hand, nervously wringing it with the other. “Um, would you by chance know where her office—”

“Right, yeah, of course. Follow me.” Mon-El led her down the hallway, glancing back every now and then to make sure she was following him. Despite his words, he was already dreading taking her to meet his mother. Someone like her—young, earnest, eager to make a good impression—was exactly the kind of person Rhea relished in tearing apart, shattering their spirit with nothing but her words. She might’ve been chosen as their new maid out of countless others, but he doubted she’d last a week.

Perhaps it was better that way. One less person dragged into the dark, twisted life his family led.

He’d shown her to Rhea’s office, and found the door ajar. He should’ve run then, should’ve known better than to walk into that room, least of all with an innocent girl by his side, but that was exactly what he’d done. And they were both paying the price for it.

“Father?” he whispered hoarsely, unable to look anywhere but the body lying limp on the floor, surrounded by a pool of red. The body that had once been his father.

Rhea slowly rose to her feet, adjusting her grip on the blood-streaked knife as she trained her eyes on Mon-El and Kara like a predator gazing upon its prey. No, not like a predator. She was one. 

“Go,” he whispered.

“W-What?”

“Don’t think, Kara, just GO!” Mon-El grabbed her arm and pulled her with him as they sprinted from the room. He clomped down the stairs, deliberately making a racket and sure enough, the other servants started to fill the hallway, wondering what was causing the disturbance.

He knew exactly what was going through his mother’s mind; she had just committed a crime and he and Kara were the only witnesses. If they talked, her reputation would be ruined and if there was one thing Rhea cared about, it was the family’s image.

That alone ensured she wouldn’t kill him and Kara in front of the entire house, but it wouldn’t guarantee safety for long. They had to get out of there.

And never look back.

The best idea the police department could come up with was a witness protection program, and a flimsy fake identity that would never be enough to keep his mother from finding him. Nothing ever was. He remembered being a little boy, hiding in closets or underneath mahogany desks, his heart pounding, while Rhea’s footsteps thundered through their mansion as she yelled that he’d better come out right now, you stupid little boy, or so help me Rao I’m going to— 

It didn’t matter. That was in the past. The point was clear: she always found him. And she would again.

Kara smiled at him, nervously tucking a strand of hair behind her ear as she followed him up the stairs.

He just hoped he didn’t take her down with him.

***

In contrast to the way she fell asleep, Kara woke up warm and comfortable. She sighed and shifted closer to the source of that pleasant heat, squinting her eyes against the sunlight. Wait a minute. She opened them just a sliver, and discovered that her entire field of vision was obscured by black fabric. Also, the pillow she was holding onto felt unusually…muscular? 

Well, that was embarrassing. As memories from the last twenty-four hours came flooding back, Kara realized that the “pillow” was indeed a person. Somehow during the night they’d moved even closer together and now her hand was curled around Mon-El’s bicep, her head nestled against his shoulder. 

Delicately she attempted to remove herself from his personal space, letting go of him and scooting away until her back hit the wall—which lasted about two inches. Double bed, her ass. At least he was warm. Whatever heating system the apartment had had was clearly out of service judging by the frosty temperature. Kara drew up the covers to her chin, still feeling embarrassment at how she’d subconsciously clung to him during the night, despite barely knowing the man. She supposed it was probably a habit left over from her years in the foster system, when a loose grip on your pillow or phone or book or whatever meant a strong chance an older kid would steal it. She’d never quite managed to let go of that feeling of being on edge, always on the lookout for danger. The little scars dotting her arm twinged in remembrance.

Mon-El suddenly shifted and yawned, thankfully stretching his neck at the same time so Kara was spared from a stranger’s morning breath in her face. He squeezed his eyes shut almost immediately, understandable given the lack of blinds in their stupid apartment, and then scooted forward and…wrapped an arm around her waist?

“Um,” Kara said.

He mumbled something incoherent, and then seemed to wake abruptly, jerking away from her as his eyes snapped open. “Uh…hi.”

“Hi.”

They stared at each other for a moment, the awkwardness thick in the air, and then Mon-El sighed and threw the covers back. “I need some fucking coffee.”

***

The only caffeine to be found in the apartment was some crappy instant coffee like what Kara usually bought (it was the cheapest she could find). She’d grown accustomed to the taste and didn’t really mind it, but she guessed Mon-El didn’t feel the same, judging by the way he grudgingly accepted it from her and badly disguised a grimace after the first sip. He was probably used to something more expensive, exported from a faraway country where children did the labor for pennies before the product was ready to be shipped off to National City’s wealthiest. She imagined he got the darkest, most bitter kind and drank it black, with no milk or sugar. Like a sociopath.

(It was possible Kara needed to rein in her imagination when it came to judging her rich employers—ex-employer now, she supposed. Although she was usually right, so.)