#so this is kind of like pouring gasoline over a lit fire when you have a fear of fire

[terabyteunion]

Okay so don't shoot me for this but

I feel like we can acknowledge that there is no non-rightwing party in our two-party system, due to the overton window both democrats and republicans are far right, and that they both are awful people or at best well-meaning people who still perpetuate the cycle of violence and enrichment, both of these choices are awful choices

but at the same time we can also say, Hey, one of these parties are sort of classical republicans in a sense and probably won't make big or particularly impactful change across the board (at least not to the extent that is necessary to place a bandage on the usamerican pipe's gaping hole), and the other party is a rabid imperial cult who promises and has shown to make thing worse and who's functional god-king has shown he has acumen to direct the cult as attack dogs

yes it's fucked up that everyone who can vote has to make a choice between bad and worse, yes this is an unacceptable state of affairs for a nominally "democratic" country but not voting is basically leaving up to those who do, and as 2016 showed the right wing WILL vote for those who don't, and functioning as a centrist is how shit gets worse i thought we were past "abstaining from politics" when we were ragging on enlightened centrists

[cherrylibby]

Spitfire and Smirks

word count: 2145

“You ass!” you snap, your voice slicing through the smoky haze of the bar. The room is alive with murmured conversations, clinking glasses, and the occasional roar of laughter. A neon sign flickers erratically above the pool table, casting shifting shadows over Jake’s figure as he lines up his next shot. He’s so engrossed in the game that he doesn’t notice your approach until you’re standing just behind him, your anger radiating like heat off asphalt on a summer day.

The sharp clack of pool balls colliding echoes through the air, but your tone drowns it out. Jake Seresin straightens, turning toward you with a curious smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. His eyes flick to yours, a glint of amusement lighting them as if your anger is nothing more than a passing storm cloud.

Before he can react, you shove him hard.

Jake stumbles back, his boots scuffing against the faded linoleum floor. He lets out a low chuckle, the sound rich and unbothered, like he’s heard this all before. Leaning the pool cue against the table with lazy confidence, he crosses his arms and tilts his head at you. The soft hum of a country song plays in the background, adding to the tension between you.

“Hey, watch it, sweetheart,” he drawls, his grin widening as his gaze sweeps over you. The nickname, said with that infuriating smirk, feels like gasoline on the fire of your anger.

You shove him again, your hands trembling as frustration pours out of you like a dam breaking. “Why did you do that? Why!” you demand, your voice cracking slightly. Around you, a few patrons glance your way, but most return to their drinks, too familiar with Jake’s antics to be surprised by the scene.

Jake stumbles back another step, but he’s still smiling, as though your anger is the most entertaining thing he’s seen all day. “You know,” he says, tilting his head, “you’re kind of cute when you’re mad.”

His hand reaches out, brushing against your cheek. The contrast between his rough fingertips and your heated skin sends an involuntary shiver down your spine. His thumb traces along the curve of your jaw, his voice dropping into a teasing murmur. “Don’t be too upset now. I was just having a little fun.”

The intimacy of the moment twists your stomach into knots, but your anger burns hotter. You slap his hand away, your glare sharp enough to cut glass. “Fun?!” you scoff, your voice rising. “You think ruining another one of my dates is fun?”

Jake straightens, his grin faltering for a split second before he recovers. “Feisty as ever, Spitfire,” he mutters, his voice laced with exasperation. His gaze lingers on you, softening slightly as if he’s about to explain himself, but you’re already done with him.

“Unbelievable,” you spit, your voice trembling with a mix of fury and hurt. Without waiting for a response, you spin on your heel and storm toward the door. The dim bar lights reflect off the polished surfaces of tables and chairs as you shove open the door, letting in a gust of cool night air.

The parking lot outside is dimly lit, illuminated by a flickering streetlight and the faint glow of neon signs from nearby buildings. Gravel crunches beneath your shoes as you march toward your car, your heart pounding in your chest.

“And where the hell are you going, Spitfire?” Jake calls out, his boots thudding against the pavement as he follows. His voice carries a mix of amusement and frustration that makes your blood boil even more.

“Away from you!” you shout over your shoulder. “Or else I’ll run you over with my car!”

Jake’s laugh is sharp, echoing in the quiet night. “You’ve got some nerve,” he mutters, but his footsteps don’t stop.

You reach for the car door handle, your fingers barely brushing the cool metal before his hand wraps around your wrist. The strength in his grip halts you instantly, though it’s not painful. “Oh no, you’re not going anywhere,” he says, his voice dipping into a tone that’s firm and unyielding.

“Let me go, Jake!” you snap, twisting in his hold, but he spins you around effortlessly. Your back presses against the cold metal of the car, the chill seeping through your clothes.

Jake leans in, his frame towering over you as he cages you in with his arms on either side of your head. His scent—leather, cologne, and the faintest trace of whiskey—invades your senses, making it impossible to ignore his closeness.

His teasing edge is gone, replaced by something darker, more serious. “We’re not done talking,” he says, his voice low and steady. His breath is warm against your cheek, his eyes searching yours.

Tears well up in your eyes as you blurt out the words that have been eating away at you. “How could you tell him about me being a virgin?” you choke out, your voice trembling. “I’m already insecure, and you… you used it against me? Seriously?”

Jake’s expression shifts instantly. The smirk vanishes, replaced by a frown that deepens with every tear that spills down your cheek. “Hey, hey, I’m sorry,” he says softly, his thumb brushing away a tear. His touch is gentle, but you slap his hand away.

“Don’t touch me!” you snap, shoving him with all your strength.

Jake stumbles back a step, his scowl returning. “Come on, Y/N, let me make it up to you,” he pleads, his voice quieter now. His eyes lock onto yours, searching for any sign of forgiveness. “Please, just hear me out.”

When he reaches for you again and you flinch, he freezes. His expression falls, guilt clouding his features as he lets out a heavy sigh. Running a hand through his tousled hair, he struggles to find the right words.

“Look, I know I messed up, Spitfire I do. But please, I just want to make things right,” he pleaded, taking another small step towards you.

Jake kept his eyes locked on you, not tearing his gaze away as he stopped directly in front of you. Even in the dim night light he could still see fresh tears in your eyes, guilt filling his chest.

“I’m sorry,” he repeated quietly. Jake gently reached out to take your hand, his touch feather-light as if afraid you’d pull away again.

You don't pull away as Jake gently cupped her cheek, caressing as he leaned forward "I'm sorry for everything" He apoglize "It was a mistake I didn't mean to cause you pain, please" He pleads "let me make this up"

He gently pulled your face closer to his, his hands still cradling your head. He looked down at you, his gaze soft and sincere "Thank you, Spitfire," he said quietly, his voice barely above a whisper.

He pulled you into a tight hug, his arms wrapping around you once again, holding you close against him. He buried his face into your neck, breathing in your scent as he savored the feel of you in his arms.

He continued to hold you close, his arms encircling your middle like a protective barrier. His breaths came out in soft, warm puffs against your neck, each one punctuated with a light press of his lips to your skin.

You cross your arms over your chest, your glare unwavering. “Why should I? You think an apology is going to erase the humiliation you caused me?”

Jake’s shoulders sag, and he lets out a long breath. “I wasn’t thinking, alright? I was stupid and jealous, and I let my emotions get the better of me. I just… I didn’t want him getting too close to you. I didn’t mean to hurt you, I swear.”

“Jealous?” you scoff, shaking your head. “So your solution was to humiliate me? That’s twisted, Jake.”

“I know,” he admits, his voice dropping even lower. He steps closer, cautiously, his gaze locked on yours. “It was wrong. All of it. I didn’t think about how it would make you feel. I just… I didn’t want to lose you, okay?”

“Lose me?” you repeat, your voice trembling. “You can’t lose something you don’t even have, Jake.”

That hits him like a punch to the gut. He winces, his jaw tightening. “I know I don’t deserve you. But I’m asking you—begging you—not to walk away. Let me fix this. Let me fix us.”

His voice cracks on the last word, and for a moment, the cocky, confident Jake you know is gone, replaced by someone raw and vulnerable.

“You hurt me,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper.

“And I hate myself for it,” he replies instantly, stepping closer again. “I’ll do anything to make it right. Anything, Spitfire. Just tell me what to do.”

You stare at him, your heart warring with your mind. Part of you wants to walk away, to leave him to stew in the consequences of his actions. But the way he looks at you—with desperation, regret, and something dangerously close to love—makes it impossible to move.

Jake’s hand rises halfway, then falls back to his side, as if he’s unsure whether he’s allowed to touch you. His gaze softens, and the usual cocky smirk is nowhere to be found. “I don’t expect it to be easy,” he says, his tone quieter now. “I know I messed up—big time. But I’m standing here, asking you to give me a chance to make it right.”

You shake your head, your arms still crossed tightly over your chest like a shield. “You humiliated me, Jake. You made me feel small—like a joke.”

His face falls, and he takes a deep breath, his chest rising and falling as he fights to keep his emotions in check. “You’re not a joke,” he says firmly. “You’re everything to me. And that’s the problem, Spitfire. I didn’t know how to handle it, so I lashed out like an idiot. I thought if I pushed everyone else away, maybe I’d have a shot with you.”

Your breath catches at his confession, and you stare at him, searching for any hint of insincerity. But all you see is Jake—raw, unguarded, and utterly sincere.

“And what makes you think you deserve that shot?” you ask, your voice softer now but still laced with hurt.

“I don’t,” he admits, his voice breaking slightly. “But I’m willing to spend every damn day proving that I can be better—proving that I deserve you.”

The tears you’ve been holding back finally spill over, and you quickly wipe them away, frustrated by how easily he still gets to you. “You make it so hard to stay mad at you,” you mutter.

Jake’s lips twitch into the faintest of smiles, though it’s tinged with sadness. “Is that a good thing?” he asks, stepping closer.

You don’t answer, but you don’t step away either. His proximity is overwhelming, his warmth chasing away the night’s chill.

“I know I don’t deserve it,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. “But I need you to know… I’m crazy about you, Spitfire. Always have been.”

Your heart thuds painfully in your chest, and for a moment, you hate how easily he disarms you. But then his hand rises again, this time hesitating near your cheek.

His hand cups your cheek, the roughness of his palm a stark contrast to the tenderness of his touch. He leans in slowly, giving you every chance to pull away, but you don’t.

His lips brush against yours, tentative at first, like he’s afraid of pushing too far. The kiss is soft, almost apologetic, and it sends a shiver down your spine. But when you don’t pull back, he deepens it, his other hand moving to your waist to pull you closer.

The world around you fades, the cool night air, the distant sounds of the bar, and the hum of passing cars all melting away. All that matters is Jake—his warmth, his scent, and the way his lips move against yours as if trying to say all the things he can’t put into words.

When you finally break apart, your foreheads rest together, both of you breathing hard. His eyes search yours, still pleading, still vulnerable.

“I’m sorry,” he says again, his voice a low rumble. “For everything.”

You nod, your hand resting on his chest where you can feel the rapid beat of his heart. “I’m still mad at you,” you say, but there’s no venom in your tone anymore.

Jake smiles, a genuine smile that makes your chest ache. “I’ll take mad, as long as you’re still here.”

For the first time that night, you let yourself smile, just a little. “Don’t make me regret this,” you warn, your voice soft.

“Never,” he promises, sealing his vow with another kiss that makes your knees weak and your heart flutter.

[daycourtofficial]

Falling in Love on the Fourth Floor - Part 10

Summary: Out of an act of desperation, you move in with a guy you kind of know who happens to have a really hot brother who lives next door.

Author’s note: yall. I love this part. It’s all Azzy baby.

(Masterlist)

Cassian: I feel weird doing this

Cassian: it feels like an invasion of privacy

Rhys: just let me know, one way or the other, how she feels about Az

Rhys: it’s not really an invasion. They invited you.

Rhys: this way, if she doesn’t like him, we can help Az move on

Cassian: they’re grilling her about Az

Cassian: if she doesn’t like him she’s an incredible actress

Cassian: shit, the movie’s starting - talk later

-

You wake up sometime close to midnight, throat dry and in desperate need of water. You groan into your pillow, reaching for the glass on your nightstand only to not find it.

Cursing yourself for washing the dish and not replacing it, you push off the bed, not quite opening your eyes fully in the hopes of going back to sleep quickly.

You open your door, padding through the dark living room toward your kitchen. You grab a glass from the cabinet and open the fridge, filling your glass from the carafe.

Your legs start growing cold in the night air as you slide the pitcher back in, closing the door with your hip as you walk back to your room, only to stop short at a phone screen lighting up the living room.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, sitting on the couch at Azriel’s feet. He bends his legs, pulling his feet towards him to let you sit down.

He looked incredibly cozy - he was wrapped up in a massive blanket that showed the night sky, his tiny stuffed bat was perched on his chest. He locks his phone, putting it on the coffee table, giving you his full attention.

“Rhys and his dad were arguing over the phone, and those fights can last ages. I wanted to give him some privacy.”

To accent his point, you can hear muffled shouting through the wall, Rhys’s anger permeating the wall between you two.

“And to be somewhere more quiet.”

He pauses, then looks at you, hazel eyes glowing in the darkness, “I’m sorry, I should go, I kind of auto-piloted over here-“

“You don’t have to apologize. It’s fine,” you say, nestling into the couch.

“Does he have a name?”

He knits his brows at your question, until he follows your eyes to the bat in his arms.

“Uh, no, he doesn’t.”

“That’s a shame,” your gaze lingers on the bat as Azriel sits up. You two fall into a peaceful quiet, until he tells you, voice soft, “I uh - Cassian got me this plushie. When we were kids, my uh step-brothers lit my hands on fire.”

You turn to him, and he’s not sure if it’s how big your eyes are peering at him, or the way your hair is mused with sleep, or just how small and vulnerable you look, but he continues.

“Cassian bought it for me when I was in the hospital. He didn’t have much money, but with his last damn dime he bought me this stuffed bat.”

He looks at it, the thing that has brought him such comfort from such a horrifying experience. It was worn, its color inconsistent across the fabric from where his hands and arms have constantly held onto it.

“Sometimes in my dreams I’m that kid again, and they’re pouring the gasoline on my hands again. But the - the bat helps.”

Hence why he brought it over, you think.

He keeps talking, unsure why. “The bat can also be warmed up and it helps when my hands hurt.”

“Do they hurt now?”

“A little,” he tells you.

“May I?” You nod towards his hands, and he can’t hide the shock on his face at your question.

He’s never had anyone ask. Everything about this is so new. For someone to let him come to them when he was comfortable, instead of feeling entitled to his trauma.

He reaches his hands out to you, placing them gently in your hands. Your hands are cold, but soft. Your thumbs begin stroking softly, working their way into the muscle, and he moans at the sensation.

His cheeks redden, but you continue your task at hand, rubbing into his hands, soothing the dull ache that always accompanies them.

He almost misses your words, too focused on the way your fingers feel.

“I wish the world had been kinder to you.”

You don’t look up, your eyes focused on his hands as you continue your work.

“But at least you had Cassian and Rhys to be there. I know it doesn’t stop what happened, but at least you weren’t alone.”

His lips part, and his fingers twitch, the urge to wrap yours in his stronger with your kind words.

But he doesn’t, not yet. He lets you continue your work, massaging his hands, and a comfortable silence settles over both of you.

He shifts his legs as you turn to face toward him, and he cages you in with his legs. He pushes forward a bit, resting his forehead on yours as you continue massaging his hands.

“Was it hard? Having to let your hands heal?”

“Mm, yes. It was a pain, especially having to relearn everything. I dropped so many cups and plates because my grip would just give out.”

You’re quiet as you let him ruminate on old memories, your touch making him feel so calm. He feels so far away from that boy who had to learn how to grasp doorknobs, to put on socks, to hold a brush.

He thinks about those months and how Cassian and Rhys’s love carried him through those years. How they helped rebandage his hands every day, how they would massage his hands, how they would ensure he did his daily exercises.

They were the most important people in his life, but maybe you’ve wiggled your way into getting that descriptor too.

It’s quiet in your apartment, the only noise the humming from your throat.

“What are you humming?”

You squint your eyes, trying to remember the name of it. “It’s by Mitski, I think.”

He pulls his right from your grasp, pulling his phone back out, along with a pair of headphones. He opens the Spotify app on his phone, typing in ‘Mitski’ into the search bar.

“Oh yeah, it’s that one,” you point at the screen, as he plugs in the headphones, offering one to you. You move closer to him, leaning your head on his shoulder to be close enough to share the headphones.

You nestle it into your ear, the soft sounds of “My Love Mine All Mine” playing into the earbuds that connect the two of you.

Azriel looks down at you, how soft and content you look. He wraps an arm around you, holding you to him as he moves his legs underneath you, stretching them out against the sofa. His hold on you causes you to shift with him, your body half on his, an arm around his waist as your face is buried into his neck.

Your eyes grow heavier, the soft melody of Mitski’s voice and Azriel’s fingers stroking through your hair lulling you back to sleep

-

Cassian opens the door to his room, ready to head out for this godforsaken 8 AM class he had to sign up for. He’s heading towards the kitchen to grab whatever fruit you two have, he thinks there’s either a banana or an orange, when he stops in his doorway.

You and Azriel are asleep on the couch. You’re on top of Azriel, your face tucked between his chest and the couch. Cassian looks closer and sees that your arm is wrapped around the bat plushie he bought Azriel all those years ago. Azriel’s arms are wrapped around you loosely, keeping you in place.

He laughs at the pair of headphones that are wrapped between the two of you, tangled amidst arms and hair, music still playing from them.

He pulls his phone out, snapping a quick photo. He opens his messages, searching for the chat entitled they’re idiots, which included Rhys, Mor, and Feyre, and sends the photo. He grabs an orange, heading to the door trying to be as silent as possible.

As he reaches for the doorknob as his phone starts vibrating with new messages.

Feyre: they look so cute tho 🥰

Feyre: omg Cass wake her up

Feyre: she has class early today!!

Rhys: and risk the wrath of Azriel in the morning?

Rhys: don’t do it

Rhys: he’s a cranky bastard in the morning

Cassian types out a response, shutting the door softly behind him.

Cassian: maybe he won’t be today

[chvoswxtch]

congrats on ur milestone!!! u deserve all the love and followers!!

can we get a margarita with matt something super angsty that turns out could be solved by talking or maybe some jealousy from him? up to u if it has a happy ending lol

nonnie,

i'm going to apologize in advance if this isn't the drink you ordered (& you're welcome to send it back and order another) but I saw 'angst' & 'matty' & 'up to you if it has a happy ending' & i'm rewatching season 3 of daredevil and I was clearly in a fucking mood (mario's in that damn gatorade again) so...

between emo matty & listening to sorry by halsey (which is the song that came to mind while writing this and is also v matty coded) this is what my gremlin brain came up with. 🤷🏻‍♀️

blurb below the cut

sorry

don’t realize how mean i can be

“No one has ever spoken to me like that. Not a stranger, not someone who doesn’t even like me, and certainly not someone that claims to love me.”

He wished that he could say he had never spoken that way to anyone, but that certainly wasn’t the truth. Ironically enough, he never thought of himself as an explosive person, but maybe it’s inevitable when you mix alcohol with a temper-fueled fire already blazing with ferocious anger and resentment. You hadn’t started the fire within him. You were just one of the many pieces of the bridge he was hellbent on destroying that night. Managing to make three different people hate you and erase you from their memory in one night had to be a personal record for Matt. He knew you wanted an explanation, but he didn’t have one. 

Was it even salvageable? All Matt could see was ash, nothing really left to restore. He wondered, what was the point? He couldn’t take back the words that he said. And maybe you could forgive, but you wouldn’t forget. He made sure of that. Perhaps you two could start over, put on a brave face for one another, pretend that the past wasn’t hanging around your heads like an ominous storm cloud threatening to pour at any moment. Maybe that would work. But it would be as effective as putting a bandaid over a bullet hole. Sooner or later, there would be nothing but blood. 

Why did he do it? How did it come to this? When did you become these people? Maybe Matt lashed out because he felt you slowly slipping away. The sun once rose and set with you. There wasn’t a moment you weren’t speaking, talking about your days, baring your souls to one another once the early hours of the night crept into the sky. But then Midland Circle happened. The he happened, and somewhere along the line, the messages came fewer and far more in between. You had both changed. You were out living a life he didn’t seem to play a leading role in anymore while he was still putting back the pieces together of his, and he was torn between feeling indignant and remorseful. But the blaze of anger didn’t even start because of you. It was someone else that lit the match. 

But you were the one out of them all that stayed.

Maybe Matt resented the person you thought he was, because he knew he could never be that person. You had this vision of him in your mind; gilded and polished. A man that was intelligent and kind, charming and passionate, maybe fucked up from time to time but always with the best of intentions. He wanted to believe it. He wanted to believe he was the man you saw. Not the moody asshole that destroyed everything he had built, except the barbed wire fence he encompassed himself in to avoid letting anyone too close. He wanted to be good, and he wanted to be worthy of your compassion and faith. But maybe he knew the truth all along, that he never would be.

So what do you do when you wanna bury all the evidence? To avoid being caught as a fraud and imposter who never should have come into the picture in the first place? Burn it all to the ground. Pour gasoline over everything you love, strike a match, and set a fire that burns so bright even God himself can’t fucking look away. And you do it with all of them until there’s nothing left. And if you wanna do one damn thing right, you set them free. You set her free. You take whatever’s left and your last match and you do the right fucking thing. 

So that’s what he did. 

He took whatever was left of that fucking bottle and poured it over himself instead of down his throat, taking his place among the embers and waiting for the flames to destroy everything that he had become until there was nothing left.

Maybe Stick had been right all along.

“I don’t know what else to say except, I’m sorry.”

You said that you needed time and space. He nodded, mumbling something that resembled an understanding, but he knew that you were gone, and you were never coming back. It was all gone. There was no second chance, no miracle, no do overs. It was done, and it was his fault. You were the flame that lit up his darkest moments, and he had put you out. You weren't perfect, but you were one of the best people that Matt knew. 

He always told you that you deserved more than the way people treated you that had claimed to care, yet he had been worse than all of them combined. Matt felt foolish for all of the times he had sank to his knees in desperation, begging God for someone, anyone. He begged for a sign, that his life wouldn’t always be plagued by trauma and pain. Maybe you were it, and he took it all for granted. 

You said you would call when you were ready to talk, so Matt waited by the phone. 

And he waited. And waited. And waited.

[bumbleklee]

philocaly (kaeya x reader)

masterlist | 1k prompt masterlist | discord server

★ ironically this came to me in a dream last night lol. it’s also 4 in the morning so please excuse anything that makes no sense <3

★ summary: you have the worst nightmare of your life but thankfully kaeya is there to calm you down

★ content warning: there’s a very quick, very vague sex scene that isn’t detailed at all but just so everyone knows. major angst but also major comfort so do with that what you will. also reader was written as female but its pretty vague so feel free to imagine them as whoever you want

philocaly

(n) the love of beauty 

The first thing you noticed when you opened your eyes was the intoxicating smell of gasoline that surrounded you. Your body felt sticky and wet and it didn’t take long for you to realize you were drenched in petroleum. You felt dazed and when you tried to look around, your eyesight blurred and you stared into a cloudy abyss.

A voice began speaking and you jolted up, trying to find the source only to find absolutely nothing. You didn’t even know if you were sitting in a chair.

“So naive…”

Your breath caught in your throat when you recognized the voice as Kaeya’s. But your mouth wasn’t moving. You thrashed around but it was like your arms were being held down by invisible bonds.

“Don’t panic, pretty,” Kaeya said. His voice echoed around the room and finally the clouds started to dissipate. Your beloved boyfriend stood feet away from you, wearing a brilliant white tuxedo. “We’re just going to talk. For now.”

Out of thin air, Kaeya pulled a chair in front of you. He sat down in it backwards, leaning his head on his arms. He had his signature smile on his face but his eyes were dull and emotionless. Suddenly your feet hit something hard and you glanced down, seeing a polished wooden floor beneath your shoes.

“Tell me, Y/N,” Kaeya purred, looking at you in a way that made you shiver, “Do you really think you amount to anything in this world?”

His words stunned you. What was going on? You gaped your mouth to speak but no words came out. You didn’t know what to say.

“It would solve a lot of problems if we just got rid of you right now, don’t you think? I would finally be free to find someone worth my time and the rest of Mondstadt would be happy to have such a burden lifted.”

You felt like your throat was on fire. You couldn’t believe Kaeya was saying these things to you but he really was. Tears streamed down your face and you sharply inhaled, your chest aching in pain. You prayed that this was some sick joke.

The gasoline that was poured on your head before started to run down your face, sliding between your eyes and burning your nostrils when you breathed.

“You’re crying now? How pathetic,” Kaeya laughed. He shoved his hand into the pocket of the tuxedo jacket and pulled out a pack of matches. Your eyes widened and you felt yourself stop breathing momentarily. He hummed casually and stood up from the chair, “I can’t wait to find someone so much better.”

You tried to scream, defend yourself, but no sounds came out. It was like your voice box had been ripped away. Your eyesight was blurry again from your tears but you couldn’t even wipe them away. A gloved hand reached out and gripped your jaw, pulling your face upwards. Kaeya was in front of you now, his eyes even more sadistic than before. He cocked his head at you and rubbed his thumb along your bottom lip.

“You always had such an ugly face.”

And with that, Kaeya ripped his hand away and lit a match. He threw it at you carelessly and turned on his heel. As soon as the tiny flame touched the gasoline, it was like an explosion. The flames crawled up your legs and surrounded your body. You had never felt this kind of pain before and it was unbearable. Once again, you tried to scream but only silent heaves escaped your throat. The last thing you saw was Kaeya’s long ponytail being thrown over his shoulder before the flames consumed you.

You shot up in bed, your hands clutching your nightgown like never before. You heaved and erratically inhaled, trying to catch your breath. While you couldn’t feel the flames anymore, in that moment they felt so real. Never before had you had such a horrendous nightmare and you didn’t know how to handle it.

Kaeya’s words rang through your head over and over again. You couldn’t stop the tears falling from your eyes, only this time you could reach up and wipe them away. Hands crawled up your shoulders and Kaeya, the real one, rubbed them slowly.

“You’re drenched in sweat, Princess,” He mumbled, “What happened?”

Your blood grew cold as your dream replayed. You choked back a sob and managed to twist your body so you were facing Kaeya. “I’m okay,” You lied, your voice hoarse and quiet, “I’m just a little shaken up.” Kaeya raised an eyebrow at you. He had seen you shaken up before and it was never this extreme. He opened his mouth to speak but you surged forward, pressing your lips against his. “I want to do it. Right now.”

“What?” Kaeya mumbled between desperate, rough kisses. Normally he wouldn’t be opposed to a spontaneous midnight session but you were clearly in distress.

“Please,” Your voice cracked. You needed to be intimate with Kaeya right now, you needed to feel his body flush against yours. You needed to know that he still wanted you.

Kaeya only nodded and let you push him back onto the bed. You inhaled sharply again and rubbed your cheeks. You slung a leg over Kaeya and wasted no time in kissing down his neck. You placed wet kisses on his skin and Kaeya’s hands grazed your hips. If this was going to make you feel better right now, then he would do anything you wanted.

You inched backwards so your crotch was over Kaeya’s and you pulled down his pants quickly. He was still soft but you didn’t care, lifting up your nightgown and lowering yourself onto Kaeya. He didn’t make his usual sound of pleasure when he entered you but you paid no mind, placing your hands flat on Kaeya’s stomach so you could move your hips and back forth. Your movement was erratic and, honestly, didn’t feel good at all but you needed this intimacy now.

When you and Kaeya made love, it was gentle and sensual. He treated you like glass and his touches made you feel like you were on cloud nine. But this didn’t feel right. You weren’t feeling loved and beautiful this time. You could only think about what Kaeya said in your dream and maybe he was right.

You started crying again and Kaeya’s heart ached. He hated seeing you like this and he knew that having sex wasn’t what you needed right now.

“Alright, we’re done,” Kaeya said softly. His hands tried to lift you off of him but you only ground your hips down and let out a sob.

“No!” You cried, “We have to finish. We have to.”

“No, we don’t,” Kaeya countered. He suddenly overpowered you, lifting your hips off his and moving you beside him in bed. He pulled his pants back up and pulled your nightgown back down. This time, Kaeya leaned over you and boxed your head in with his arms so you couldn’t roll away. “Tell me what happened.”

At this, your cries turned into uncontrollable sobs. You couldn’t breathe and inaudible words floated out of your mouth. You tried to explain your dream but your wails only drowned it out. Kaeya waited patiently for you to stop crying. He hated seeing you cry but knew you needed this and wasn’t going to push you to stop anytime soon.

He stayed perfectly still until your sobs eventually died out. You were still a teary, sniffling mess but at least you could form coherent sentences now. You shakily explained your dream, repeating what was said to you by the love of your life. Kaeya listened and felt sick. His nose brushed against yours.

“None of that is true,” Kaeya said firmly. His eyes stared intensely into yours and your bottom lip quivered again, “You know that, right?”

“I’m so in love with you,” You started, “So in love that a nightmare about you not loving me is more painful than getting stabbed fifty times. I want to be enough for you.”

“You are enough for me.”

Kaeya’s hands brushed through your hair gently, his thumbs rubbing circles in your temple. Your eyes felt heavy and stung from your hysteria. You snaked your arms around Kaeya’s waist and managed to maneuver your bodies so you were both lying on your sides. Kaeya pulled you close to him and you found solace in the crook of his neck. Kaeya pressed soft, warm kisses all over your face and kissed away the rest of your tears.

“I love you, too,” He whispered.

Your eyes fluttered closed and Kaeya waited until your breathing was normal again to close his own. His hand found yours and laced your fingers together and in that moment you realized that this was the intimacy you were longing for so deeply. Your dream that night would haunt you probably for the rest of your life but as long as you could bring yourself back to reality, back to Kaeya, you would be okay.

Kaeya pressed a final kiss to your temple and spoke one last time before sleep overcame you both. Quoting your favorite book Kaeya said, “I’m in love with you, and I know that love in just a shout into the void, and that oblivion is inevitable, and that we’re all doomed and that there will come a day when all our labor has been returned to dust, and I know the sun will swallow the only earth we’ll ever have, and I am in love with you.”

a/n: did i just quote tfios? yes <3

[biggest-stupidhead]

more modern au levi x reader!! is it okay where reader makes petra jealous???

Just a reminder: WE DO NOT CONDONE PETRA SLANDER IN THIS HOUSE!!!

with that said, I will write this heavily focused on Petra to make it a lil angsty, hope you enjoy!

Summary: Petra watches her ex fall for another

Word Count: 1.7K

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It had been two long years since Petra and Levi ended things. It wasn’t messy but it was painful, she had seen it coming from a mile away. He had grown just as distant as he had been when they first met. Staying late at work, texting her dryly, and using terrible excuses. Although she had known it was coming, she still was a wreck when he actually ended things. She spent the months following the break up drinking wine and crashing at Oluo’s place regularly. After two years she was finally feeling better, dare she say, ready to get back into the dating scene? Or at least that’s what she thought, she was scrolling through her instagram feed when she stumbled across Hange’s page. It was someone’s birthday, someone she wasn’t familiar with. 

A woman with bight eyes and an even brighter smile was in the center of the group photo. On her right was Levi, who had an arm thrown casually over her shoulder, the faintest trace of a smile on his lips. Petra pinched the screen to zoom into Levi’s side, where she saw a feminine hand on his waist. She stared stupidly at the image. She shouldn’t feel jealous, she had no right. It had been two long years since the break up. But the picture only dredged up old memories of times when she would hold Levi that same way. When that smile was directed to her. She then turned her attention to the caption, which read: 

Happy Birthday (Y/n)! 24 never looked so good!

She then scrolled through the comments, many of them consisted of birthday wishes and support. She lost interest when she didn’t see Levi’s username and instead went back to the collection of photos, three of them in all. The group one that she assumed had just been taken, the second one was a picture of Hange and you on the beach, Petra felt a involuntary wave of self consciousness wash over her at the site of you in a swim suite. The final picture was the one that hurt the most though, it seemed to be a very old picture of you, maybe from your early years in college? You were sitting on a couch with younger versions of Hange, Erwin, Levi, and Moblit. Levi’s arm was casually thrown over your shoulders. Why had he never mentioned you before? Were you the reason that they broke up? No Levi had assured her that it wasn’t like that, said he wasn’t seeing anyone else. She tried to stop herself from going down that rabbit hole, but she couldn’t seem to. Before she really knew what she was doing, she had clicked on your profile which she was almost disappointed to find as public. This meant that there was nothing stopping her from judging every perfect image that was posted, and to her pleasant surprise, there was only one photo of you and Levi. The photo was posted the week prior, the two of you were hiking in the mountains, the dusty trial behind you. Your face was flushed from the exertion of the climb, Levi seemed cool as a cucumber, his face blank and void of emotion. She scrolled through the post and found a video, the sound of your shoes crunching and Levi talking behind you were clear as day. 

“I mean come on, who uses fucking Lipton? Have some god damn class.” Levi spat, as you snorted in amusement. Petra found herself chuckling along with you at Levi’s little rant. She felt a rogue tear slide down her cheek when you showed the phone to Levi, who’s face fell from being mildly animated to apathetic once more. You cackled as he swiped the phone and the video ended abruptly. It was so innocent, it was clear from the rest of your page that you were a private person, much like Levi. With little indication that you were dating him, it left her wanting to know more. More about the girl that had taken her place, had managed to worm her way into Levi’s heart of stone and make herself comfortable. As soon as these thoughts crowded into her head, she deleted instagram all together and powered her phone down, determined to wipe her memory of the images she had seen. 

__

The music was a nice distraction from the awkwardness that hung in the air. You had arrived uncharacteristically early to Hange’s party, and consequently meeting a whole group of people that you had never met before. The new people were about your age, three young men and one stunning young woman. It was early fall and Hange’s annual bonfire bash as you all had dubbed the event. Basically you lit a massive fire, when you were younger it was your past assignments from your pervious school year, then it became just regular old wood. You tapped your finger against the cool beer bottle as you leaned up against the counter, the men were laughing obnoxiously as they dropped the alcohol that they’d brought into one of the many coolers. The woman was looking at you almost nervously, she seemed extremely on edge, shifting her weight back and forth, eyes wandering around the room in a jittery manner. You frowned, wondering what was bothering her, but ultimately deciding that it was not really your business. Erwin shimmied behind you, his hands on your shoulders as he slide past you into the kitchen. You caught his arm, clinging to his familiar presence. 

“Erwin.” you hissed as he stooped to reach your level. 

“Who are these people?” you asked as you held his bicep firmly in your grasp. He pulled away and looked at you with a confused expression. 

“You mean Levi didn’t tell you?” He said slowly, clearly he was unsure if it was his place to speak on the relationship between Levi and these people. 

“No....” You said carefully, not wanting to make Erwin uncomfortable. 

“Oh well they used to work in the same department before Levi switched.” He said, he looked over to the men and motioned for them to come over, they ambled over with curious expressions. 

“What’s up Erwin?” the dark haired man asked as he looked between the two of you. 

“Just thought I’d ought to introduce you to (Y/n) here, she’s an old friend of ours from high school.” Erwin explained, his hand still comfortingly placed on your mid back. You waved shyly and smiled at all of them, including the girl. 

“Pleasure to meet you.” The blonde with a ponytail said, outstretching his hand to shake yours. 

“I’m Eld, this is Gunther, Oluo, and that fine young lady over there is Petra.” He said, pointing at all of them respectively. 

“It’s so nice to meet you guys!” you said sweetly as you struck up a conversation with Oluo about what they thought about the department that they worked in. It didn’t go unnoticed that Petra remained nearly silent, her amber eyes wide and a bit fearful. When the interns arrived, the men were quick to go help them carry in the alcohol that they brought, leaving you and Petra alone in the kitchen. You cocked your head at her as you poured some pretzels into a large bowl. The warm glow of the setting sun cast a halo over her head and you couldn’t help but voice your admiration for her. 

“You’re really pretty.” you gushed as she blushed at your words and turned to look at you with wide eyes. 

“So are you...” She returned the compliment and you smiled, feeling more at ease now that the two of you were alone. 

“So how long have you known Hange?” You asked conversationally as you crumpled up the bag and tossed it into the trash. 

“Hm let’s see...about four years now?” She responded with a bit of a wistful tone. 

“Really? I’m surprised we haven’t met sooner!” you chuckled as the two of you opened a bottle of wine and poured it into two large glasses. The two of you strolled out into the bark yard, where Hange and Moblit were chucking large pallets of wood onto the fire pit. You and Petra sat down in two lawn chairs watching as Hange and Moblit bickered over if it was safe enough to light the fire with gasoline. 

“I am too, you seem....like a really nice girl.” Petra said a bit downcast as she looked deeply into her wine. 

“So do you! We should grab breakfast ooo or maybe even brunch sometime!” You said excitedly and Petra sat there in awe, wondering if there was even a mean bone in your body. Or if you had any clue that she had dated Levi. 

“Yeah...this is kind of random but...are you dating Levi?” She blurted out, her face turning to look at you with a flushed expression. You nodded nonchalantly and took another sip of your wine. 

“Yeah we just started dating about a year ago.” You said with a shrug, Petra inhaled, readying herself for the next words that would either make or break the future relationship between the two of you. 

“Did...you know we dated?” she said, cringing when the words left her mouth. She sounded crazy and she knew it, but she felt obligated to clear the air between you before it got bad. 

“Hm I think he mentioned it once or twice, and Hange told me about you when you first started dating.” You said looking up thoughtfully, your tone held no malice or any sign of ill will. 

“You’re not...” 

“Insecure? Nah, and don’t take that like I’m being cocky! I just mean that...” 

“No, no let’s just not do this. I’m sorry for bringing it up. God I’m such a bitch.” Petra went to stand and you followed her, catching her wrist. 

“It’s alright really, I don’t care about what happened between you and Levi. It’s frankly none of my business, I just...wanna be friends with you.” you smiled at her sheepishly as she looked at you with wide eyes. 

“Oh” She managed to say dumbly. 

“That is if you want to be friends.” You said, letting go of her hand and giving her some space. 

“Yeah...I think that I’d like that very much.” Petra said with a bright smile. 

__

In honor of Women’s History month, I couldn’t bare to write something that was a stereotypical jealous ex, so I did the next best thing and wrote this more geared towards the reader and Petra bringing each other up instead of tearing one another down. As someone who was apart of the fandom back in like 2014 I am way too familiar with writers turning Petra into a psycho bitch, and I don’t like that. SO I hope that this is good enough to fit the prompt! 

[animeyanderelover]

I have been reading your blog for the past few days and I absolutely love it! Is it okay if I request Modern S/o from a Modern World with Yandere! Naruto, Sasuke, Sakura, since we have already have Hashirama and the other 2 with Mordern S/o, also take your time!

So many modern reader😂. I didn’t try to get too much into detail with how they would share a darling since I got a request about that as well.

Tw: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, delusional thoughts, possessiveness, obsessiveness, vicious behavior, violence, kidnapping

modern s/o

🍜💙🌸Due to Sasuke needing a lot of time when falling for someone, you most likely appeared during the Team 7 days, when all three of them were still genin. They most likely discovered you together with Kakashi one day on a mission, finding a young you all by yourself and looking obviously flabbergasted and shocked when being found by them.

🍜💙🌸And they of course helped you, realizing that you were lost and their Sensei offering you to lead you home if you would tell them where you lived. You on the other hand just stared back and forth between him, Naruto, Sakura and Sasuke before muttering something from if you were dreaming, pinching yourself to make sure you weren’t dreaming and that this was reality. After painfully discovering that this was indeed real you wanted to be 100% sure, asking if they were Kakashi Hatake, Sakura Haruno, Naruto Uzumaki and Sasuke Uchiha.

🍜💙🌸Whilst you might have known Kakashi as the famous copy cat, they were all surprised when you knew the names of his pupils. You were pretty far away from their village, making the possibility that you knew them from there very little. It led to Kakashi suddenly getting a weird feeling, his intuition telling him that something wasn’t right here. So he asked you once again from where you were, leading to you explaining yourself. And knowing that they would most likely not believe you without proof, you also used your phone, showing them that you weren’t lying.

🍜💙🌸You were like this brought with them together to the Village, Kakashi deciding that you wouldn’t be safe all out there on your own and if someone would find out about you, you could become very dangerous for them. And just like that you were introduced to the Third Hokage who you showed your proof as well, amusing him greatly that in his old life he was still able to witness something like this. A dimension traveler, how utterly fascinating.

🍜💙🌸But he understood why Kakashi had brought you with him. You had explained after all that in your world their whole story was all written down as a “Manga” and could also be watched as an “Anime”. In short, you knew what would happen in the next few years, knowing what abilities someone would possess in the future and what secrets there were. It made you very valuable and if people like Orochimaru would find out about you, you were doomed. And they would be as well if Orochimaru would find a way to press everything you could possibly offer out of him.

🍜💙🌸So you were most likely given a apartment, most likely near Naruto, and were given permission to live in the village. It was also decided that Kakashi should teach you a bit how to fight, also finding out whether you possessed chakra or not. This was made a secret between you, the Third Hokage and Team 7, all promising to not tell anyone.

🍜💙🌸It should come to no one’s surprise that Team 7 naturally grew closer to you overtime since they had found you and were one of the very few who knew about this secret. So they became quickly your best friends.

🍜And Naruto was the first one who developed some more unhealthy feelings for you, openly displaying his big crush on you and making it obvious for everyone that he liked you. For the reason that you never seemed to make fun of him and always cheered him on, not thinking of him as a monster like many others or just an annoying little brat. Much more on the contrary, you always told him that he would be very strong one day. And you had to know it the best. Since you two lived directly next to each other, sleepovers and just spending every evening time together became somewhat a normality to you two, allowing Naruto to grow closer to you. His obsessive tendencies grew stronger due to the fact that you were from another world and he often begged you to tell him more about your world, listening in awe whenever you did tell him.

💙Surprised by who became Yandere next? I’ll explain later on to why not Sakura. Let’s face it, Sasuke was most likely annoyed when first finding you which might have changed quite a bit after finding out who exactly you were. He knew that you weren’t allowed to talk about it, but it did happen quite a few times that he asked you direct questions about his future and you just told him that he would later on become one of the most powerful shinobi which led to Sasuke hanging out more around you, hoping to squeeze something more out of you. What powers exactly would he gain? Would he meet his brother? How could he reach that point of being one of the strongest ninja to exist? Sasuke would keep it more subtle with his feelings even though his possessiveness was most likely triggered due to knowing that Naruto liked you as well, leading often to snarky comments from him when Naruto was all over you.

🌸Sakura was at first just your best friend for a rather simple reason. At that time she still had a crush on Sasuke and also saw that Naruto liked you a lot. And she cared for Naruto a lot, leading to her being glad that he had finally someone who seemed to understand and support him and she became a huge Naruto x (y/n) shipper. Sasuke is a lot more subtle with his signs that he likes you, but Sakura is very observant when it comes to those she’s close and will notice the way Sasuke keeps looking jealous and annoyed whenever Naruto tugs you away or tries to show off in front of you or the way he seems to tolerate you more than others. Even the way he displays a bit more softness with you which will lead her to feel a bit more conflicted, realizing that you are stuck in a love triangle. But different than with Ino she won’t suddenly start disliking you since she also sees that you keep pushing Sasuke away, most likely because you know that Sakura likes him and take that into reconsideration. You also support her just like Naruto all the time, knowing that she’ll later on become one of the strongest kunoichi to exist.

🍜💙🌸After Tsunade was made the next Hokage, she and Tsunade were informed about your secret as well in order to be able to keep in mind that you were somewhat of a special case.

🍜💙When Sasuke left the Leaf Village he might or might not have tried to take you with him, but since I need you here so Sakura can form her obsession, he failed. Even if he would have managed to take you out of the village, we all know that the with Naruto robbed him temporarily all his power, giving you the chance to free yourself and run. The fight between those two would be in general a lot more vicious than it would have been without you. Sasuke had pent-up frustration inside of him due to the fact that Naruto had gotten so strong, him fearing that Naruto might be one day able to beat him. Not only that, but Naruto also liked you a lot, more than a lot and this poured only even more gasoline in his fire since Sasuke had only you left. And now that blonde idiot was starting to become stronger and the strongest wins always in the end. He despised the thought that he could lose to Naruto. And our sunshine boy was mad as well that Sasuke had dared to kidnap you.

💙And so there is a chance that due to Sasuke’s betrayal another person found out, Orochimaru. He most likely sensed during the Chunin Exams that something about you was different. You didn’t participate or anything, but he kept an eye on you because Sasuke was really close to you and what better way to get his hands on Sasuke than blackmailing him and manipulating him with the one he loves dearly? I can even see him as someone who lit the hatred for Naruto inside of him when he noticed Sasuke’s growing jealousy. Would he seriously let such a weakling like Naruto get his darling? And with Orochimaru finding out this situation will become a bit twisted since Orochimaru will form an obsession with you as well for pure egotistical reasons. He wants to know all the secret and just now a mystery bigger than everything else he witnessed in his life so far was offered to him. So he would be all up for kidnapping you as soon as the chance is there.

🍜If we go with the theory that Sasuke did manage to kidnap you, but you were saved, Naruto would afterwards be so incredibly apologetic and feel guilty for not coming to rescue you sooner, adding even more pressure and misery onto him next to the fact that he already didn’t manage to save Sasuke. But he was also incredibly glad that you were now back, due to the shock most likely clinging terribly onto you afterwards and not leaving you alone until he left with Jiraiya, giving you into Sakura’s care for the time being.

🌸Do you remember my Naruto and Sakura sharing a darling post? It would be exactly the same to that. Sakura spent the next few years training with Tsunade and also dedicating a lot of her time with you. And it was during these years that she started developing feelings for you. The betrayal of Sasuke hurt her a lot and she also felt terrible for what you had to endure due to Sasuke’s selfish act, you were her best friend after all. You could say that after this she finally opened her eyes a bit, realizing that Sasuke wasn’t the perfect man she had always pictured in her head. It was somewhat of a wake-up call, and suddenly she realized how kind you had been to her all this time, making her feel appreciated, a feeling she hadn’t experienced so far that often. She grew very close to you and when realizing her feelings she was totally embarrassed as well as ashamed since everyone knew about you and Naruto. You were unofficially together at this point. It gave her a lot of mood swings since at one day she was on cloud nine and the next felt like hiding in a hole out of shame.

🍜🌸When Naruto came back, Sakura most likely told him about her feelings, a big sign of how close her bond with him was. And whilst Naruto was at first a bit conflicted about this, he and Sakura came eventually to the terms of sharing.

💙Sasuke on the other hand trained in order to kill his brother and get rid of Naruto with the ultimate end goal of finally getting you back in his clutches. He had started feeling incredibly lonely without you, the emptiness inside of him really getting to him. If we do go with the scenario where Orochimaru ended up finding the truth out about you, he would want to meet you as well. Not only are you interesting for him because you’re the person Sasuke’s in love with, but you’re also a dimension traveler. He does try to ask Sasuke a bit out about you, but whenever Sasuke shoots him this glare it’s obvious to him that he won’t talk. If Sasuke does manage to kidnap you, he wouldn’t let Orochimaru touch you without losing it. He knows how Orochimaru ticks and is just disgusted by this. Would be really pissed off the moment he finds out that Sakura is now in love with you too. He used to be annoyed by her because she was in love with him, now he’s mad that she loves you and shares with Naruto.

🍜💙🌸Sharing a darling is not necessarily easy for Sasuke as long as he isn’t really close to that person or it isn’t his brother. All free of them most likely started sharing after the war was over and Sasuke was forgiven his crimes. It would settle for quite the turbulent relationship because Naruto and Sasuke would constantly get into fights and it’ll be yours and Sakura’s job to separate them. More to that when I start the sharing a darling post. I don’t want to only repeat myself.

🍜💙🌸All three of them wouldn’t travel with you back to your world if there should be a chance. I do think that Naruto and Sakura would display a certain degree of curiosity in it whilst Sasuke would be more annoyed about it. But all of them would still stay in their world since all of them are dedicated to something in their world. That also means all of them will stop you if you should try to escape them by fleeing back into your world.

[lynne-monstr]

Writers Month Day 3: Magic

Shadowhunters. Magnus and Lorenzo

Magnus and Lorenzo discuss magic and magical taboos over drinks.

.

Lorenzo’s voice is slightly slurred when he leans over, elbows on his knees, and asks, “How do you do it?”

And fine, Magnus isn’t exactly sober himself but even sober Magnus wouldn’t be able to make sense of Lorenzo’s ravings. “Do what? I’ve done a lot of fantastic things in my life. Pick one.” He leans back, toasting to empty air. Satisfaction coils deep in his gut as a muscle in Lorenzo’s face spasms.

“Your magic. The blue and the red. I’ve never seen a warlock whose magic is more than one color.”

Suddenly, being tipsy isn’t nearly enough. Magnus needs to be drunk for this. He keeps his smile in place with an effort of will. “Perhaps I just naturally go both ways. Some of us have more fun than others Lorenzo.”

Lorenzo’s answering scoff threatens to spill his drink onto the plush carpet of the sitting room. The opulent style isn’t to Magnus’ taste but it suits his former rival. Imposing and arrogant at first glance, but surprisingly comfortable after prolonged contact. Or perhaps it’s like a garbage dump where you eventually get used to the smell. He’s not sure yet but at least Lorenzo’s liquor is the good stuff so he’s willing to be magnanimous and reserve judgement until he sobers up.

“Spare me your sexual exploits, Bane. I’d like to have some semblance of an appetite when I meet Andrew for dinner later.”

“Oh, Andrew is it? I didn’t even know dear Underhill had a first name.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

Magnus taps a finger on his chin. “What was it you once said to me? Something about the disgrace of dating a Shadowhunter? If I was a lesser man I might have a few choice words to say.”

Lorenzo raises an eyebrow but irritatingly enough, doesn’t take the bait. “You’re avoiding the question,” he muses as he takes a considering sip of his drink. When he puts the glass back onto its coaster with a soft clink, Magnus still hasn’t said a word. With sigh, Lorenzo shakes his head. “Very well, keep your secrets.”

“I don’t owe you an answer.”

Lorenzo inclines his head. “True, but…” The words trail off. For the first time, Lorenzo looks uncomfortable. He puts up his hands in a gesture of surrender and it’s so unlike him Magnus almost drops his own drink. “My apologies. The questions was a mere curiosity. You don’t have to answer if you prefer otherwise.”

Funny to think that just a few short months ago Lorenzo was bursting into his home and throwing accusations of corrupting ley lines in his face. Never in all his years did Magnus think they’d get to the point of a civil conversation, let alone whatever this is.

They aren’t friends.

Not with all their bad blood. The taunts, the threats, the attacks against each other still cast too large a shadow for anything more than occasional camaraderie and the exchange of ideas about potential threats to the city. Lorenzo still occasionally keeps a hand free in his presence, as if Magnus is going to summon his father into this plane of existence at any moment. He may think he’s being subtle, and perhaps he is to most warlocks. But to a warlock trained in combat magic, his readiness is obvious.

Magnus himself has mostly forgiven Lorenzo for blacklisting him in the wake of losing his magic. Mostly. His forgiveness waxes and wanes depending on his mood but he’s in a fine state tonight and despite Lorenzo’s very personal question about his magic, this get-together has been one of their better evenings.

He rises from the settee, pretending to study one of the hideous portraits of Lorenzo that line the walls. He doesn’t owe Lorenzo an answer but the whiskey always makes him more included to discuss magic. And the fact still remains that Lorenzo walked into the demonic equivalent of hell for Magnus. For Alec. For both of them.

Perhaps in a few centuries they’ll have a shot at real friendship.

Tomorrow, Magnus will blame the liquor for why he admitted the truth. It’s an easier lie than admitting that he perhaps misses the company of other warlocks. Ragnor is gone. Elias, too. Dot is on the run. Catarina is wonderful but even she can’t singlehandedly be everything to Magnus on her own.

He keeps his back to Lorenzo as he explains. “I put emotion in my spells. That’s why the color changes.”

Lorenzo’s gasp is poorly hidden and Magnus amuses himself in the growing silence by imagining the scandalized look that must be scrawled on Lorenzo’s face. He keeps his back turned and his magic ready. It’s both a test and a challenge.

Surprisingly enough, Lorenzo passes on both counts. “It’s probably for the best that I did not know that about you when I first came to New York.” Try as he might, Lorenzo can’t entirely hide the shake in his voice.

Magnus swirls his drink around in his glass and finally turns to face him. And winks, for good measure. “As if you could’ve hated me any more than you already did.”

“That kind of casting is dangerous! It’s—” Lorenzo cuts himself off, slumping back in his seat. “You don’t need me to tell you that, I’m aware.” It’s not acceptance but it’s not the outright denunciation Magnus had expected, either.

Perhaps one day he’ll tell Lorenzo the full story. About how he didn’t know how dangerous the technique was when he began using magic, at first because he had no one to teach him and later because the teacher he did have was his father.

His father, who took him in when he was only a child and taught him what it meant to be a warlock. Asmodeus had encouraged Magnus to throw his feelings into the fire of his magic. He’d encouraged the rage and the disappointment and the bitter grief over being rejected by the only family he ever knew.

It was only when Magnus turned his back on his father and struck his own path that he realized the teachings of his childhood were not how others practiced. They used words and techniques and drawing upon their own innate power. Magnus used that too, and then lit a match to the gasoline of his magic by pouring his emotions over the mass of power in his hands. Calming blue and livid red.

He’s tried to change but the technique is ingrained into his very bones.

Luckily, his type of casting is so rare that no one has ever guessed the true meaning behind the changing colors of his magic. Like Lorezno, they assume it’s some lost art rather than one of their greatest taboos.

The fact that Lorenzo isn’t judging him or threatening to expose him to the council means he might one day earn the right to hear the full story. Or maybe it means he’s too drunk to care. Either way, Magnus counts it as a win and he has a couple centuries, by his estimate, to figure out the rest.

In the meantime, he shrugs a shoulder and throws back the rest of his drink. “Yes, I’m aware,” he says, once the burn in his throat subsides.

Lorenzo pours him another and that’s the end of it.

[moralitybog]

I am reading through Clementine Morrigan’s “Love Without Emergency” and maybe it was an irresponsible way to spend money but tbh it is so healing From “The Cuteness Matrix”, an essay I read years ago and never found again, that is present in this zine: “ I had this really amazing, healing, validating conversation recently withmy friend Sabrina. We talked about the scarcity of decent dudes (forthose of us who date/are into dudes/masculine folks), how there are sofew guys who do not have serious issues with being misogynist andfucked up towards feminine people, and there is an overflowingabundance of cute, rad, babely, smart feminine people. And we, asfeminine people, are expected to compete with each other for theattention of the few masc people who are decent. And then there’s thispressure, that if we are less than perfect in any way, we can easily andreadily be replaced. We called this phenomenon the ‘cuteness matrix’ ina half joking way. It was amazing to hear another person saying out loudthe feelings I have had…...We aretaught to regard each other with suspicion and fear, to perform ourdesirability the ‘best’, to have all the femme skills down from wingedeyeliner to feminist politics to care work to acting like it all comes easilyand naturally and we don’t even notice that we’re doing it. But we donotice that we’re doing it and we do notice the femme skills of otherfemmes and instead of it just being a lovely and supportivefemme4femme thing, it actually is far too often a stressful and terrifyingthing about who is prettier and cuter and cooler and am I pretty, cute,cool enough? ...The polyamory literature I have read does not address this shit at all. It does not address transmisogyny, racism, ableism and how these things affect the politics of desirability either. Mainstream polyamory lit justacts like we’re all on the same playing field, that we have to ‘own’ ourown feelings because they are ours alone. But actually, no. We are in community together. These power dynamics are not up to the individual to ‘transcend’ and get over. It is all of our responsibility to notice, name and uproot these oppressive dynamics. It’s up to masc people to own their privilege and notice the way they interact with feminine people and make space for the pain feminine people feel living in this culture. It’s on all of us to complicate jealousy and polyamory and to acknowledge the complex factors that make our experiences of these things different. “ From “A Love Letter to the Anxious-Preoccupieds”: “ I know how crazy making it can be. And I know it can make us act in ways that we regret, ways that are not in line with our integrity, our values. The feeling of coming out of an attachment episode reminds me of the feeling of waking up hung over and full of regret. Things we said and did in the heat of the attachment fueled terror seemed necessary and urgent in the moment, they seemed like the only course of action. The blame and accusations we hurl at people we love, the desperate attempts at control, even the ultimatums or threats to leave when we don't want to leave. The desperate attempts to re-establish contact at all costs, the texts, the pushing when our partner is trying to withdraw. The panic at their withdrawal, the way this fuels the frenzy of attachment cries even more. And then after: the shame, the regret, the deep and heavy fear that maybe this time we have really ruined things for good. I've been there. I've been there and it sucks. I've hurt people I love with this behaviour and I have hurt myself with it too. I have felt way too ashamed to talk about these things, and I have felt way too focused on the ways I felt neglected and abandoned to take an honest look at my own behaviour. “ From “Polyamory and Shame”: “Pouring more shame over distress is like pouring gasoline on a fire. If you notice yourself responding to polyamory with shame, humiliation, or other forms of distress the best thing you can do is pour as much compassion over this as you can muster. Be kind to yourself. These are deep wounds being activated and they are compounded by a culture that insists on a very limited imagining of what love can be.”

[dog-poundsystem]

woohoo fic time

I actually got around to writing something | Minors DNI 18+ Strade belongs to Gato Mira belongs to @twafawgaw-waw I couldn’t be bothered with translations so uhh good luck lmao

~~~

Mira looked around the basement in a panic, her eyes wide, pupils blown. She didn't know this place yet, didn't know the kinds of things that went on down here. Her gaze darted quickly around the room, wondering only in the back of her mind where Strade could possibly be. She tugged at the ropes tied tightly around her wrists. She soon realized she was able to twist herself enough that she could slip free, quickly glancing around the room. There was nowhere to go, no place to run. She panicked when she heard the heavy door of the basement thrown open and darted to the nearest corner. She squeezed herself underneath then behind the table saw settled in the corner of the room with just enough space between it and the wall for her to squeeze into. She panted, pulling her knees to her chest and wrapping her tail tightly around her waist. She heard the heavy footsteps fall to an eerie silence when he hit the bottom of the stairs.

"You can't hide from me, mein kleines Kätzchen," His voice rang through the basement, husky with that thick accent. It sounded similar to the tone he'd used in the cafe he abducted her from, a false kindness in his voice that would convince anyone that he wasn't the monster he revealed himself to be when he took Mira away and brought her here to this hell. "I'll find you eventually." She could almost picture him twirling that large hunting knife as if it wasn't sharp enough to kill with ease. Her heartbeat pounded in her ears, a rapid thump as it beat against her chest in panic. She was cornered, she had nowhere to go. It was either come out now or wait until he found her and suffer the consequences.

If she had any sort of logic left in her brain, the former would have been the smart thing to do. But in her increased state of panic, the flight overpowered the fight and she stayed put stubbornly despite Strade's increasing rage as he searched the basement for his runaway captive. Her breathing halted when he came to a stop right in front of her hiding spot.

"Hab dich gefunden, Kätzchen," He snarled out and suddenly his face was in view over the top of the table saw. "You really thought you could hide from me?" Mira let out a startled hiss, backing herself further into the corner. Her ears flattened on her head and her tail swished, her claws readying themselves. She knew better than to attack this dangerous man but maybe if she made herself look big enough, he would back off. Of course, that didn't work. She was a good 3 inches shorter than Strade and he was built much heavier than she was. There was no way some hissing would get him to back off.

It all happened in a flash. One second he was calmly rolling the table saw out of the way and the next she was off of her feet, his fingers digging painfully into the soft flesh of her arms.

"You're a slippery one, aren't you kitten?" He asked in an infuriatingly cheerful tone as he sat her down in front of the pole again. She didn't dare move this time, too terrified of what he'd do. She growled low in her throat when her arms were yanked behind her, letting out a yelp when she heard the unmistakable sound of zipties being secured around her wrists. She tried tugging them loose but there just wasn't enough give for her to slip out of them. She was trapped. She looked up at Strade with wide eyes as he paced in front of her. She had a strong feeling she didn't want to know what was going on in that sick, twisted head of his. "Not many have been able to escape me like that." He didn't look at her, gaze trained on his knife held delicately between his fingers. He sounded impressed, however, that she was able to escape the ropes he put her in like it was nothing. And it really was. All she had to do was twist her hands around and slip out. She didn't dare utter a word, though. He trailed his gaze across the blade then glanced at Mira out of the corner of his eye. He had something planned, she could feel it. He turned to face her and she flinched, waiting for a pain that never came.

"I think I just might keep you," He rose a brow. "How does that sound?" Mira shook her head quickly, trying to move back away from him. She didn't get very far, of course, trapped between him and the pole. She had nowhere to go. He mumbled something to himself before he was up the stairs again, leaving her alone in the basement. She struggled for a few more minutes in a failed attempt to break through the zipties. She just started to relax a little when the door opened and Strade returned, dropping a few things on the counter. He turned around with a collar in his hands and her eyes widened.

"You could use some decoration, I think," He dropped down on one knee in front of her and panic rose in her belly. She, despite her better judgment, kicked out, trying to get him away from her. He grabbed her by the ankles with one hand, effectively pinning her legs to the ground. She froze immediately after and stared at him with wide eyes as he clipped the collar around her neck. The weight of it was heavy on her throat in a way she didn't like and she wanted so desperately to claw it off. She flinched when he pulled that knife out again but instead of cutting her, he sliced her free from her restraints. She rubbed the pain from her wrists, keeping her eyes trained on him just to calculate what he'd do next. 

"The collar looks good on you," Strade moved away from her to the things laid out on the counter, pulling on a pair of gloves. She shook as she watched him but didn't dare move from her spot. "But I think you need more. Meine eigene Berührung." He laughed at whatever he said and she was even more terrified as a result. "Come on." He grabbed her by the arm, forcing her to her feet. She went easy, not wanting to find out what he'd do if she struggled. He dragged her to another part of the basement and shoved her to the floor. She would have scrambled back against the wall if Strade didn't step down on her leg aggressively.

"Don't move," He growled, going back to the counter once again. He came back with a can of gasoline, matches, and a metal stick that Mira quickly recognized as a brand, embellished with the same symbol as the patch on his shirt. Panic rose in her stomach, a disgusting feeling that made her wanna throw up. He poured gasoline over a tiny pile of wood sitting a few feet away from her then lit a match, tossing it in. The wood immediately caught fire, illuminating both of them in its warm glow. He let it heat up for a moment before sticking the designed end of the brand into the flames, only pulling it out when it was hot and glowing red. 

"This may hurt a bit, Kätzchen," She yelped when his foot came down on her tail, holding her in place. She tensed up and whimpered, yowling in pain when the brand came down on the back of her shoulder with an ugly hiss as it burned her skin. She tried to scramble away but that only caused the foot on her tail to grind down harder, pulling it painfully. She sobbed loudly when he kept it on her skin far longer than it should have been. 

          After far too long, Strade finally removed the awful brander, tossing it to the side with a loud metallic clink. He poked the burn roughly, burying his fingers in the stinging flesh, and barked out a laugh when Mira hissed, trying to pull away from him. It yielded the same results as before, a harsh and painful tug on her tail. She gave up rather quickly when she realized running away wasn't an option, flattening her ears on her head and pulling her knees to her chest. She tensed up again when Strade trailed his hand across the back of her neck, a cry passing her lips when he suddenly grabbed her tightly. She looked up at him with alarm in her eyes, her stomach filling with dread as she was yanked from the floor.

"Wh-what are you gonna do?" She asked hesitantly, her voice coming out a lot smaller and timider than she would have liked.

"So she can talk," Strade looked at her in surprise as he sat her back down against the pole, securing her wrists behind her and to the pole with those dreaded zipties. There was no use in trying to escape, she wouldn't be able to with how tightly her wrists were bound. "You should really use your voice more, mein hübsches Kätzchen." She shook like a leaf, staring up at him with wide eyes. "To answer your question-" Strade picked up his knife again, looking at it for a moment. "I'm gonna keep you." His voice darkened and the knife left his hand as he threw it. She didn't notice at first until she felt the blood trickling down her arm. Her gaze fell to the spot and suddenly pain blossomed in her shoulder when she saw almost the entire blade had embedded itself in her arm. She let out a loud cry, hot tears falling down her face. Strade walked towards her and yanked out the blade just to watch the blood pour from the wound. She pulled at the restraints desperately as if she could run away from the pain. 

"Look at that," Strade cooed, dragging his fingers through the blood before pushing his finger into the wound. She howled in pain, a scream forcing its way past her lips as she cried harder. He practically fingered the hole. The more blood that poured out the more Strade seemed to get into it, his breathing picking up as his face flushed red. "I'm getting excited." He whispered huskily, pulling his bloodied fingers away from the hole in her arm. He licked the blood from them and let out a deep groan, looking Mira up and down. "Why don't you have a taste?" He didn't give her a chance to respond before shoving his fingers in her mouth, letting out a shaky breath when she gagged around them. She could taste her own blood on his fingers, metallic and coppery. He thrust his fingers, practically fucking her throat with the digits. She gagged and drooled, more tears falling from the corners of her eyes. Her blood-mixed spit dribbled onto the floor in a puddle between her legs and the mixture of bodily fluids only seemed to fuel him on.

He picked up his discarded knife and sliced through the zipties again, forcing Mira onto her hands and knees before she could even move. He grabbed a handful of her ass, grinding his already hard cock against her. 

"You're gonna be good for me, aren't you kitten?" Strade murmured in her ear, removing her shorts and panties with a loud ripping sound as he tore through the fabric with his bare hands. He traced a finger between her folds and let out a shaky moan. "You're liking this just as much as I am." He bit down on her burnt shoulder and another cry tore through her body. He continued to grind down roughly against her, low pleasured moans coming from Strade and high pitched whined slipping out of Mira. Suddenly, she was flipped over onto her back so she could stare up at him.

"S-Stop," She begged weakly, pushing on his chest in an attempt to get him off. "Please." Strade simply laughed and undid his belt, slipping out of his pants just enough for his cock to be exposed.

"Ich liebe es, wenn du weinst," He didn't bother prepping her before he slid into her roughly. She let out a loud cry that sounded somewhere between a sob and moan, digging her claws into his shoulders. He wasted no time in setting a quick and brutal pace, the pain from her claws trailing harshly down his back only egging him on. He didn't seem to care about her pleasure, focusing on chasing his own orgasm. The only sounds in the room were the sounds of skin slapping against skin, Mira's loud cries, and Strade's low pitched grunts.

"Shit, Kätzchen," He groaned as his orgasm hit him and he filled her up, pounding into her until he was finished. He pulled out carelessly and Mira cringed when she felt his cum drip out of her. She was tired, hardly able to keep her eyes open. She let out a small, surprised yelp when she was lifted from the ground, instinctively holding onto him. She closed her eyes, burying her face in his neck. As much as she disliked everything he did to her, he was warm and smelled oddly... comforting. Like machine grease, sweat, and something uniquely him.

She wasn't sure when she fell asleep but she woke up in a warm bed. She was in different clothes and both the wound on her back and the one on her arm were patched up. She sat up and stretched out her limbs when she noticed the weight on her neck. That's right. She tried to find a way to get it off, a clip or something, but there was nothing. She panicked, clawing at her neck desperately. It wasn't until Strade came into the room and yanked her hand roughly away from her throat that she realized how bad it was. Her claws were dripping with blood and her neck stung.

"There's no getting out of that," Strade shook his head, tilting her head back roughly to look at her injuries. He tsked softly, running his thumb less than kindly over them. "Look at what you've done to yourself. Come on, let me patch you up." Mira didn't want to but she went easily when he pulled her away and led her out of the room.

"Can't have you banging yourself up so soon," He sat her down in the bathroom. "I'm not done with you yet."

[rainydaycriminalmindsimagine]

Hope you don't mind another ask! The case is women(brunette) being burned with their hands tied behind their back. Reader is on the team and is brunette, she's kidnapped by the unsub who is killing brunettes due to a mental disorder telling him brunettes are witches so he's burning them at the stake. Reader is put in a white dress and tied up with a 2nd woman to different stakes and just as the team arrives the fire is lit(she ends up with burns on her feet/legs so she has to be carried out).

This reminds me of that weird episode of the guy who I think was burning people in a park because he thought that they were witches or something like that

So you were working hard on this case

Immediately it was clear that this unsub was targeting women with brown hair

You didn't think that that would include you

You couldn't get a lead on the fucker

It was increasingly aggravating and you were walking back to the hotel when something slammed against your head.

You woke up in this basement type area and your hands were handcuffed to a pipe

A man was watching you carefully, examining you

What sent you into slight panic was the fact that you were in a dress that you weren't in before.

"Don't you try to get out of this, witch" the man growled.

You took in a small breath, remaining calm.

"can I ask you your name?" You said calmly.

"So you can hex me!?" He asked

"no?" You said.

It pieced together for you that he did indeed think that this was a witch trials situation

"Any last words?" He asked you.

You had to buy time

"I have a couple of last questions" you said.

The man obliged

" do I get to choose my trial or take my death as you choose?" You asked

"Burning." He said.

"Ah. Okay." You nodded

"why do you think I'm a witch?" You asked.

"because you're all the same!" He said, angry as he did.

You nodded again.

"last one. Can you at least tell me your first name?" You asked.

"....Carl." he finally said.

Okay so your third suspect that Garcia was looking into was right

You never saw a pulled up picture of the guy but you recognize the name Carl Millifred

The man put a cloth over your mouth and forced you to walk blindfolded with you.

"Please please please let them find me" you thought.

You felt yourself walk up steps before something being tied around your wrists.

And your feet

He was serious about the burning and that sent you into panic.

He ungagged you and you started begging for your life

"Pl-please don't! please!" You said as he poured gasoline around you

"PLEASE!" You screamed.

You tried to get your body free but failed each time.

"last words?" He asked again

"SPENCER!" You screamed as loud as you possibly could

The man showed no emotion as he struck a match and the ground lit up.

The heat traveled to you and you could feel that burning sensation at your toes

You hyperventilated, thrashing until you recognized Morgan sprinting out and taking the unsub down

Spencer ran faster than anyone had seen the boy run, cutting the rope and pulling you away from the fire.

You let out a whimper before crying out of relief that it was over

Spencer hugged you, caressing your head before carrying you to an ambulance

You didn't suffer any permanent damage besides a gnarly scar on the side of your leg

But you were put in the hospital.

Spencer visited everyday, something clearly on his mind but never saying it

Well until finally you got it out of him

"Okay what's up?" You asked, leaning up.

"hmm?" He asked.

"you have that perplexed look on your face where you're debating on asking something." You acknowledged

Spencer nodded mindlessly and sat forward.

"...Why did you call me?" He asked

"What?" You asked.

"we were close by when Miller asked you for your last words and you said 'Spencer'... Why did you say me?" Spencer asked

You swallowed and blinked.

"because you're my partner... And..."

You debated honestly saying this next part but you started saying things on your own.

"they say when you die your life flashes before your eyes. I discovered today that's kind of shit." You said.

"Oh?" Spencer asked.

"when you almost die, at least this is how it was for me, I saw the things I loved the most. And with every moment I kept seeing you." You admitted.

Spencer blinked a couple of times

"you love me?" Spencer asked

"Yes." You nodded

"Can I ask why?" He asked

You blinked

"Because you're funny, sweet, unbelievably caring, I work close with you everyday, you remember every little detail of my personality, even things I don't notice-- the hell you mean why?" You asked

"........... Because I didn't think I'd ever be this lucky?" He admitted.

So you and Spencer kissed

You had this original plan to not tell anyone about you two until you were out of the hospital.

But that backfired when Spencer fell asleep next to you.

Sleeping right next to you

Morgan and Garcia decided to sit in chairs and wait for you two to wake up.

And when you do finally did

Spencer hit the floor

You were a shade of red

And Garcia had this devious laugh and

And Morgan was laughing so hard he had to leave the room

JJ came in to figure out all of the commotion

All she saw was Spencer wincing on the floor, Morgan fall out of a chair, Garcia asking for details, and you with your face in your hands.

[bakgouarchived]

LOL ok so i realized that i sounded RLLY stupid in the recording, it was like 12am and half of the things i said were just “AHHHH???” “[inaudible]” or “like… ykwim??” so i decided to write it out instead

> fourteen thousand?? damn wth (amazed bc that’s a lot of words)

> ITS FUTAKUCHI!! BOYFRIEND!!

> why is he so annoying *laughs*

> i agree, disney’s tangled… wonderful, amazing, show stopping, i was gonna say never have been… what? never… been… never been done before but it has *laughs*

> i agree, his ego is alrdy big

> like a flower that had not yet met the right conditions to bloom… that’s so sexy ok

> the target is iced out

> ITS FUTAKUCHI!!

> love the action, not boring, very engaging, very sexy *laughs*

> i wanna punch him *laughs*… with love.. actually no he’s annoying… still one of my favorites tho

> DAMN i just got here and there’s already guns… FIRING

> woah ok so… the scene where it’s like… where time slows down?? and the reader could see the bullet move like it’s in slow motion… putting in the readers thoughts or like thought process really helps make the scene as if it rlly slows down like… in a movie, if that makes sense… YKWIM?? it’s good, very sexy (i was trying to say that by putting in the readers thoughts, you drew out the moment and really made it seem as though time slowed down, and gave the same slow motion effect you see in movies LMAOO)

> “u sure u want me to be honest?” SHUT UPPP

> ITS KYOUTANIIII

> his gift is so… UGH it’s not aggressive it’s not the word… it’s not violent either… ykwim (intense…i think that’s what i was going for)

> they’re like… passively aggressively flirting and i’m LIVING for this

> :O oh.. OH!! HE SAVED HER!! FROM THE BULLET!! AHHHXHDJD

> all that… all that and you can’t figure out that it’s futakuchi????… UGH

> the metaphor! it’s back! (“that same seed of infatuation you’d swallowed months ago threatens to sprout”)

> omigosh… is this a date

> AH THEY TOUCHED SHOULDERS!! that’s like, flirting, right?

> YEAH u idiot, you’re in love with him UGH… imagine…

> THEYRE KISSING!!¥{¥{ THEYRE KISSING!! that’s illegal

> oH ok metaphor, come thru!! (“The house of cards you two had so delicately put together is lit aflame, but in this single selfish moment, you have no regrets. You pour gasoline all over everything you know, tilting your head to take as much of Ace as he’s willing to give.”

> THEYRE KISSING AGAIN

> yo… yo is… is he gonna erase her memory??

> is thiS A DATE?? this is a date right

> i wanna punch him for getting the turtle… do i have permission

> GHOSTED?? UGDHEHEHSB

THAT IS HIM!! YOU’RE KISSING THE SAME PERSON omigOSH

> yes agree, oikawa is very cute. reader says “kind of cute” but i think he’s very cute

> *laughs* “tobio” *laughs some more* (why did i find this funny????)

> *panic noises* HIS MASK!! HIS MASKJDJDJ

AHH.. i hate that the reader knows that ace is futakuchi but he doesn’t know that she *noises* AH this is frustrating

> yea… leave me alone :/

> omg… omigosh HDBSJXB i’m scared

> omigosh… he’s leaving her on delivered… or read idk… pain

> OH it’s on read… pain… OMIGOSH WAIT NO THEYRE MEETING…. crying… CRYING

> bro… it was tsukki this whole time?? i mean i shoulda guessed since he was blond but… *laughs*

> THEYRE PARTNERS! THEYRE PARTNERS OMIGOSH WAIT

> THEYRE HOLDING HANDS !!!

> and there’s the title reference!

so then i tried to post the end of the audio but APPARENTLY THE VIDEO IS TOO LONG !?:!:637 so here’s after i finished reading

> i’m literally gonna dream abt this... and go to sleep like thinking abt this

> this was so sexy i can’t even like... UGH ugh ok

> man... MAN!! idek what to say

> i kind of want to see this... not animated.. or ig yea but like... as a movie? idk

> just college students w gifts, who work part time jobs *laughs* one of the part time jobs happen to be ...working for criminal organizations

> i would love to watch this, reading this was very fun

> i feel... UGHH

> i KNOW futakuchi looks so hot w his mask on... even mask off, but yk, i would never tell him that

> so sexy. idk how many times i said that already, but i had to say it again

> i hate that your works don’t get more notes. it rlly shows that notes don’t reflect the quality of the writing because this... this was so good

> the action scenes were so... so UGH

> and it’s not... what is the word for it... whatever, ykwim... actually maybe you don’t BUT just know that i’m trying my best to compliment your writing *laughs* but my brain... my vocabulary... it can’t... it cannot... no words... actually there are probably words, i just don’t have them *laughs*

> anyways besides the point

> will most definitely be rereading this

> this was so good... gave me miraculous lady bug vibes, but better, a lot better

> *sigh* thank u i hope u enjoyed this *laughs* this... asmr... very sexy for this, thank you

> ok, goodnight! wait damn, fourty minutes?? fuck... ok i have to listen to 40 minutes of audio *laughs*

> ok goodnight for real... except idk when you’re going to hear this... listen to this idk

> ty for this very lovely, sexy, entertaining, exciting fic of my boyfriend

[strangergrove]

The final prompt from @harringroveholidayexchange. Thank you so much for these prompts! I had an absolute blast writing them. I hope everyone enjoyed reading them. Hoping this one goes out with a bang.

Day 12: Snowman

---

God, it was so fucking cold. Billy's bones ached, like the frost had set into them, cold and creeping. His breath ran trails up to the stars and he wondered if Harrington was still awake. What was it, 3 in the morning?

Billy tugged on his gloves as he trudged through the snow. He hadn't needed these in California. Didn't even own a pair. But God, it was so cold, and he wasn't sure he was prepared to lose fingers over this shit.

He considered turning back. His Camaro was only a few minutes away, tucked away on the side of the road, out of sight. It was probably still warm. But no, he had to do this. He wanted to do this.

The house was dark when it finally lazed into view. He wondered for a moment if anyone was even home, until the soft thudding of music drifted to him across the frigid air. It was almost lost beneath the crunching of snow beneath Billy's boots. As he rounded the side of the house, he saw light spilling across the snow from one of the upper story windows. The music was louder here, too.

The snow in the back yard was pristine, a glistening blanket stretching back into the woods. A shadow crossed the span of light in front of him and he looked up. Harrington stood with his back pressed against the window, his hands running restlessly through his hair. His shoulders drooped, like the silence and darkness outside of his room were trying to drag him down.

Billy grabbed a handful of snow and packed it into a neat little ball. Light glittered off it as it sailed from his hand and up toward the window. Harrington nearly toppled over in surprise when the snowball hit with a loud thud. He looked out across the dark yard, confusion crumpling his soft features. When his eyes finally landed on the blonde below his window, he stilled. Billy could almost see the rhythm of his heartbeat fluttering in his neck.

Harrington was bundled up and in the backyard within minutes. "The Hell are you doing here?" he asked.

"I needed a partner," Billy said simply, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Harrington's eyes, glowing in the light still pouring from his bedroom window, widened in expectation. He sighed. "Fine. For what?"

Billy squatted down and began scooping snow together. "For building a snowman." When Harrington didn't reply, Billy looked up. He was greeted with a flat stare, the boy either bored or disbelieving. "Aren't you going to help?" Billy asked.

Harrington laughed and put his hands on his hips. "You came out here at God knows what hour, throwing snowballs at my bedroom window, so I would help you build a snowman? Seriously?"

Billy shrugged. "Have something more important to do?"

He didn't. Of course he didn't. It was Christmas and his parents weren't even home. He was the only spark in the dark void of the Harrington household and if he didn't find something that could catch fire, that would be it. Snuffed out like his parents, left to drift endlessly in nothingness.

Billy had never known that dark chill. He'd only ever known fire, biting and licking at him. He was so afraid he would ignite, could feel the burn beneath his skin. He was gasoline. Turpentine. Kerosene. One small spark and he would be engulfed in the insatiable blaze.

Harrington cocked his head, brown eyes scanning Billy's ocean ones, as if he could see images burned into the inside of Billy's skull, as if he wanted to do something about it.

"Help me or go back inside to your shitty music," Billy grumbled.

They worked in silence, piling snow together until they could roll it. Their shoulders bumped together as they rolled the ball across the yard. Neither of them said anything about it, but neither did anything to avoid it. Their knees knocked together as they knelt in the snow. Their hands brushed each other as they chipped away at the lumps and smoothed the spheres.

Harrington found broken branches to use as arms. Billy pulled an old sheer scarf from his pocket and draped it around the snowman's neck. It had belonged to his mother.

"I think we have carrots in the house," Harrington offered. "You know, for the nose."

"And coal for the eyes?"

"I don't even know where we would keep that."

Billy laughed. "You telling me a little shit like you didn't get coal from Santa?"

Harrington shot him an unimpressed look. "Ha. Ha. Now come on, let's finish his stupid face."

The carrots in the fridge had long since met their expiration date, and neither of them could find coal anywhere. Instead, they found waffle cones and Oreos and peppermint candies.

"This is gonna be the dumbest looking snowman," Billy said.

"Well I'm sorry I wasn't prepared for building a snowman in the middle of the night with Billy fucking Hargrove. My bad. I'll do better next time." But there was a slight blush to Harrington's cheeks, accompanied by a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"God, it reminds me of you," Billy said, putting the last candy on the snowman and completing its mouth.

Harrington looked at him, brows furrowed. "The fuck's that supposed to mean?"

Billy shrugged and lit a smoke. "I don't know... It's surprisingly cute."

They stood quietly, passing Billy's cigarette between them, staring at the snowman they had spent all morning making. The cold had seeped into their very beings, to the point they were almost numb. Smoke curled from their mouths, drifting endlessly upward and disappearing into the stars. Billy watched Harrington's mouth. Watched the way his cigarette hung from it. The way the boy's lips curled as he exhaled.

Without a word, they trudged inside, stamping out the cigarette on the way. The darkness swallowed them up, their cold hands rushing to meet each other, lips crashing, skin burning.

Harrington had expected to spend Christmas alone again, in a big house filled with the kind of cold that didn't come from winter. Billy had expected to spend Christmas avoiding the searing wildfire that was his father, waiting to finally burst into the same flame he'd spent his life running from. Neither of them had expected Harrington's little spark to catch fire, to bloom into the inferno that was Billy Hargrove, to blossom into a new kind of flame. Neither of them expected Billy's blaze to chase away the crippling chill of the void that was Harrington's fate.

[crispychrissy]

Intoxicating

Summary: Being a rare female Alpha, the reader comes across the Winchesters and decides to reveal her sub-gender. Hitting it off with Dean, she decides to get to know him a whole lot better, even if he is an Alpha, too. Pairing: Alpha!Dean x Alpha!Reader, Sam Winchester, other OC’s Word Count: 4687 Warnings: ABO dynamics, SPN canon violence, language, angst, fluff, smut, oral sex (both receiving) a bit of dom!Reader, knotting A/N: This takes care of the Alpha x Alpha square for @spnkinkbingo​ and it was a challenge! This ABO story has some differences between my other ABO stories, but everything is explained. This was beta’d by my lovely @dean-winchesters-bacon. This year’s SPN King Bingo Masterlist can be found here.

“Hey lady, watch out!”

The gruff voice that came from behind you was just distracting enough for the vampire to lunge forward and take a bite out of your bicep, making you yelp in pain and slam the heel of your palm into his nose with a satisfying crunch. Taking advantage of your stunned adversary, you swung your machete right as two sets of footsteps stopped a few feet behind you.

Not bothering to see who was there, you watched as the vampire’s head rolled off his shoulders and landed in the dirt next to your feet. Grabbing the bleeding bite wound on your arm with a grimace, you growled in anger and kicked his head, sending it sailing across the room and into the far wall with a wet thwack.

Spinning on your heel, you glared at the two flannel covered Alphas that were staring at you, their own machetes in their respective hands. “What the fuck?!” you screeched, making both of them flinch.

“Calm down,” the shorter of the two said, sheathing his blade in a thigh holster. “We didn’t know a hunter was on this case already. Thought you were a civilian.”

“Do I fucking look like a civilian?” you growled at him, wiggling your blood soaked machete and gesturing to the belt of dead man’s blood syringes across your chest.

“We couldn’t tell what was happening,” the taller one admitted, “and all we could see was you struggling. We didn’t know if he was feeding on you.”

“Well, thanks to you, he was able to get a last meal.” You pulled a clean bandage out of one of the pouches on your belt and wrapped it around your arm. Cleaning it would have to wait until you got back to the motel room. Raising a finger at the two of them, you continued, “And you’re lucky that wasn’t a werewolf. I would have killed you both just out of spite.”

The shorter one rolled his eyes while the taller one chuckled nervously. They were both attractive guys, but being an Alpha yourself, you didn’t need or want anything to do with them. While male Omegas were rare, female Alphas were even rarer, so you knew there was a low possibility of ever finding a mate unless you wanted to settle for a submissive Beta.

Good thing hunting was a solitary lifestyle.

Slipping your machete back into the holster at the small of your back, you walked toward the door to the barn, making sure to walk right between the two men, making them stumble out of your way. You heard both of them scent the air, but you doubted they could tell your presentation due to all the scent masking lotion you wore on a daily basis. It was made for Omegas, but it worked fine for you as well. It prevented the curious looks and whispering when you went out in public.

“Wait, what’s your name?” the shorter one asked.

Ignoring his question, you spun around in the doorway, pulled out a box of matches, and lit one before glancing back up at them. “You guys gonna come out or am I torching you along with the vamps?”

Their eyes went wide and they both sprinted outside, watching as you threw a match on the ground outside the right side of the door, then lit another match and dropped it onto the left side. An invisible trail of gasoline lit up in a circle around the entire building along with several trails that led up from the circle to the actual building itself, setting it on fire in a uniform manner.

“Several ignition spots… makes the burn more complete,” the taller one commented, obviously impressed. “Very nice.”

A single nod of acknowledgement was all you replied with before silently heading back to your car where it was parked in some trees about a half mile down the road.

“Wait, you killed that entire nest by yourself?” the shorter one sputtered. “That was like eight vamps.”

“Eleven,” you corrected him, turning around while still walking backward, “but who’s counting?” The heat from the fire fueled your instincts and you flashed your gold irises at the two men, smiling when both their eyebrows shot up in surprise. “Goodnight, boys.”

They were both speechless as you walked further away, but you heard the shorter one speak about a minute later and you had to strain to hear him. “Sammy, she was an Alpha!” He paused before continuing, “my dick is so confused.”

“Come on, Dean, gross,” the taller one groaned.

A smile twitched at your lips as you walked out of earshot. At least you had names to go with their faces in case you had the unlucky chance to run into them again.

Of course, luck was not on your side.

Striding into the local hole-in-the-wall bar for a nightcap before you took off tomorrow morning, your eyes scanned the bar and you scented the air. Alpha and Omega scents fighting for dominance made your nose twitch, but you didn’t scent any male Omegas. While female Omegas have a very light and fruity almost flowery scent, male Omegas have a scent that smells like rain, fresh laundry, and a hint of citrus.

At least that’s what you remembered of the only male Omega you’d ever met.

Shaking your head to rid your mind of unpleasant memories, you beelined for one of the few open booths near the bar, content to snack on some greasy bar food and drink your weight in liquor. The door opening drew your attention, and of course none other than the two hunters you’d met earlier strode in. The shorter one, Dean, saw you and his face lit up, pushing his way through the crowded bar over to your table with his partner in tow.

“Fancy meeting you here,” he drawled, both men sliding into the seat across from you.

“Well, it’s the only locally owned bar that’s not a chain restaurant so it’s really not that strange,” you countered, shoving a handful of fries into your mouth. Swallowing, you continued, “And I know you mean well, fellas, but I’m not interested in whatever you’re offering. I can handle my own.”

“We’re not doubting that,” the taller one chimed in. “My name is Sam, this,” he pointed to Dean, “is my brother Dean. Winchester. We’re hunters, too.”

You recognized the last name, what hunter wouldn’t, but you rolled your eyes. “Y/N,” you slapped Dean’s hand away from your fries before you continued, “and I figured you were hunters when you ran into the barn with machetes.” Downing the rest of your whiskey you slid up the sleeve of your shirt and pointed to the bandage wrapped around you bicep. “My arm is fine by the way, thanks for your concern. Hurt like a bitch in the shower.”

“Sorry about that again.” Dean dipped his head like he was a child being scolded. “Let us make it up to you. Can we buy you a drink?”

Rolling your empty glass between your fingers, you hesitated; there was a reason you worked alone and stayed away from other hunters. But… the Winchesters had a mostly positive reputation from what you’ve heard, and it seemed they were trying to be sincere. Nodding, you jumped slightly when Dean slapped his hands on the table and gave you a thumbs up before disappearing into the crowd, headed towards the bar.

You could feel Sam’s eyes on you, and he looked away when you met his gaze. “Can I help you, Sam?”

“Sorry,” he rushed out, “I’ve just never seen a female Alpha before.”

“Do you wanna take a selfie with me or something?” you said with a chuckle.

Sam laughed nervously and scratched the back of his head. “No… I just expected to scent you when we were in the barn, but I couldn’t. It wasn’t until you flashed your eyes we realized you were an Alpha. Thought you were a Beta.”

“I use scent blockers, the ones made for Omegas. It does the job.” Glancing over, Dean was on his way back to the table with a mid-range tier bottle of whiskey and two glasses. “Wanna see why?”

Sam nodded as Dean sat down, and while they were pouring drinks, you reached into your bag for the packet of wet naps you keep in case you get splattered with guts and are nowhere near a shower. Dean watched, confused, as you swiped the wet cloth around your neck, chest, and wrists.

“I thought you said you took a shower. What are you doing?” Dean asked.

“She’s getting rid of her scent blocking lotion,” Sam whispered. “Apparently she uses the stuff Omegas use. Wants to show us why she wears it when most Alphas don’t.”

Once the lotion was gone from your skin, you saw both brothers scent the air and straighten up in their seats, genetics and biology telling them there was another Alpha in their presence, a potential threat. They both visibly relaxed when you tilted your head and raised a brow, but when nothing happened, Dean raised his glass and gestured at you.

“So what was supposed to happen? I mean, I can scent it, but nothing crazy happened.”

Smiling, you turned in your seat so your legs were dangling off the end and continued eating your french fries, staring out into the sea of people in the bar. “Give it a few minutes.”

Like clockwork, you waited only three minutes before you saw people in the bar begin scenting the air. Several eyes snapped to you, and you heard a few low growls to accompany the glares you were getting. Some of the male Alphas were looking at you with interest, like you were a challenge that would earn them some kind of sexual conquest achievement, while others were eyeing you like you were a predator that was going to swoop in and steal whoever they were chatting up.

Towards the middle of the bar, you watched as a petite brunette pushed off the male Alpha that was pawing at her clothes and began making her way over to you, hunger and lust in her eyes.

Omega.

“Here we go,” you said under your breath, drawing confused looks from the Winchesters.

Once she got to where you were sitting, she flipped her hair over her shoulder, allowing you to get a nice whiff of her delightfully fruity scent, and looked up at you through her eyelashes. “Hi, I’m Amber.” She moved so she was between your legs, running her hands up and down your thighs.

“Hi Amber,” you purred, smiling when she shivered.

Amber didn’t wait for an invitation, she leaned forward, pressed her body against yours, and buried her nose in your neck, pressing soft kisses against your skin and taking deep breaths of your scent. Turning your head, you grinned at the completely bewildered looks on both Sam and Dean’s faces.

“She would be like… the best wingman ever,” Dean whispered to his brother, watching the Omega rub herself against you and practically purr with arousal.

You shook your head and pointedly looked back out at the bar, nodding at the very angry Alpha that was forcefully making his way toward you through the crowd. The same Alpha that Amber had left to come to you.

The guy puffed up his chest when he got within a few feet of you, which only made you laugh, and grabbed Amber’s arm, pulling her off you.

“Amber, we’re leaving,” he commanded, but she shook free of his grip and returned to continue scenting you. “Omega!” he shouted, making her sigh against your neck and turn around.

“You’re not my Alpha, Todd,” Amber said, crossing her arms across her chest before turning to look at you. “And… she smells amazing. I… I’ve never met a girl Alpha.” She pressed herself against you and nuzzled into your neck. “You’re intoxicating.”

You could practically hear Todd’s blood pressure raising as he clenched his fists at his sides. “So, what? Two years of a relationship down the drain because some fucking bitch with a synthetic Alpha spray wants to get in your pants?”

“Oh, boy,” Dean muttered.

Sliding off the seat, you stood to your full height, which was about the same as Todd, with Amber still clinging to you. Flashing your eyes gold, you watched as the color drained from Todd’s horrified face. “Synthetic, huh?”

“I don’t… you… how…” Todd stammered, taking a step back.

“We’re rare, not extinct,” you informed him, looking up at the suddenly quiet bar. Almost every patron of the bar was staring at you, and you allowed your eyes to return to their normal color. “I don’t want your girl, Todd. I was just proving a point to my friends here,” you gestured to the Winchesters, “so you can take Amber and skedaddle.”

Amber pouted and looked up at you. “But -”

“Sorry, Omega. You smell lovely, though, sweetheart,” you said, lips twitching up in a smirk when Todd growled at you and pulled Amber with him back through the bar. Sitting back down, you took another handful of french fries and glanced up at the Winchesters. “So yeah, that’s why I wear scent blockers. Female Alphas are apparently catnip to Omegas.”

Dean scoffed, looking out at the bar and noticing several other Omegas had taken interest in you. “I’ll say. Looks like you turned a few more heads after you ditched Amber.” Dean said her name in a teasing sing-songy voice.

When another Omega began making her way toward you, you saw the bartender getting yelled at by the Alpha she left, who was wildly pointing at you. The Beta bartender grabbed a baseball bat and began walking toward you, a scowl on his face.

“Here we go,” you sighed, quickly shoveling the remaining french fries into your mouth and washing it down with the rest of your whiskey.

“Excuse me,” the bartender said once he was at the table. “I’m gonna have to ask you to leave. You’re causing disruptions and several fights have almost started because of it. I can’t have Alphas gettin’ into fist fights over their Omegas.”

“Isn’t that a little sexist? You can’t -” Sam began, but you held up your hand to stop him.

“It’s fine. I’ll get out of your hair.” Standing up, all eyes were on you once more, and you were pleasantly surprised when the Winchesters both stood up as well and grabbed their jackets.

“Thank you,” the bartender said, pushing out a sigh of relief that you didn’t put up a fight. You were used to this, it was something you dealt with often before using scent blockers.

“I’m keeping the bottle, though.” Shooting him a wink, you grabbed the bottle of whiskey from the table and walked toward the exit, the sea of people parting for you like you were Moses as you walked.

Once outside the bar and walking back to your motel, the Winchesters asked you questions about being a female Alpha and how it was different from a male Alpha. When you arrived, you were actually happy to hear they were staying in a room a few doors down from you. Inviting them to your motel room to finish off the bottle of whiskey, they both accepted and joined you after dropping their jackets off in their room.

Surprisingly, you found it very easy to talk to them. While they were curious, none of their questions were disrespectful or crossed the line, even though you could tell Dean was wanting to ask some that would. After several hours filled with a lot of drinking, Sam tapped out and stumbled from the room, biding you and Dean a mumbled good night.

The two of you sat in silence for a couple tense minutes before Dean finally spoke up after downing the rest of his whiskey.

“So how does it work?”

Smirking, you placed your glass down on the table. “How does what work?”

“You know,” he wiggled his hand toward your crotch, “sex.”

Hiding your smile, you leaned in towards him. “Well, Dean. When a girl and a boy like each other, they get naked and -”

“Very funny,” Dean interrupted. “You know what I mean. Female Alphas were almost extinct when I was taking high school health class, so they didn’t bother to teach us the mating habits.”

“Are you asking me if I can knot Omegas?” you asked. Dean swallowed and nodded. “Yes, I can, but only during rut. It’s… it’s similar to how male Alphas do it, but instead of a knot at the base of your dick swelling, my vaginal muscles swell and lock the Omega inside me.” The blush on Dean’s cheeks made you reach for your glass of whiskey, using it to hide your smile while you sipped.

“So, do you produce slick?” Dean mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

“No. Male Omegas do if they’re with a female Alpha. It’s almost like precum, but a lot more of it comes out.” Setting down your glass again, you leaned towards Dean in your chair. “And while female Omegas might be really tight, I can control my pelvic muscles like they’re any other body part. So I can squeeze down on you as hard… as… I… want.”

Dean’s eyes went wide and he swallowed hard, trying to shift in his chair to adjust himself. You knew he saw the predatory look you were giving him, so when he flashed his golden irises at you and puffed his chest out, you leaned back away from him, unsure if he was showing signs of aggression.

“Oh come on, sweetheart,” Dean purred, “don’t tell me you’re not interested anymore. Ya ever been with a male Alpha?”

You smiled. Hook, line, and sinker. “No, I haven’t. But I think I should change that.”

It was as if someone shot a starting pistol. You and Dean were out of your chairs in an instant, fumbling with each others clothes. Dean pushed you backward against the wall next to the table, pawing at your breasts through your shirt and shoving his knee between your thighs. A small laugh escaped you before you grabbed Dean by the torso and spun around, pressing him back against the wall while you fiercely kissed him and worked on undoing his belt.

Dean growled deep in his chest at the challenge for dominance and tried to push you back, but you tightened your grip on him and pushed your body up against his, your lips right next to the shell of his ear.

“I am not some little Omega you can push around, Dean. This cock,” you gripped him through his jeans, “is mine tonight.”

Dean groaned as you palmed him, but his lust-clouded eyes snapped open and stared you down. “You might think it’s yours, but I’m not gonna give it up without a fight.”

He used his body weight to push you off him, making you stumble backward a few feet. Yours and Dean’s eyes were glowing gold at this point and you maintained eye contact as you both began to strip out of your clothes. When you were completely bare, you watched as Dean unzipped his pants and pulled them down along with his boxers. His cock sprang free, thick and leaking, and he gave himself a few strokes while you shamelessly stared and ran your fingers over your nipples.

Before you could make your move, Dean rushed forward and scooped you up, tossing you backward onto the bed and settling on his stomach between your thighs before you could get your bearings. With a low growl, he spread your legs further and licked a wide stripe up through your folds, flicking his tongue over your clit. When your hips bucked, Dean’s arm came down across your stomach, holding you still.

“Fuck, Dean,” you mewled as he continued to lick and suck at your pussy like it was an Olympic sport and he was going for gold.

Two thick digits prodded at your entrance before they slid inside, making you gasp as they immediately found your g-spot and began rubbing over the sensitive spot. It didn’t take long until you were screaming Dean’s name, squeezing down on his fingers, and trembling at the overwhelming sensation of bliss.

Dean sat back on his legs, his face glistening with your juices, a smug smile on his lips. You reached up, wrapping your hand around his neck and pushing your fingers into his hair… but when he leaned in, assuming you wanted to kiss him, you pulled him down and flipped him onto his back. His eyes flashed again, likely unused to being manhandled, but he was still a willing participant with his hooded eyes and bottom lip pulled between his teeth.

Since your sexual experience had only been mostly with Betas, you took time to admire how thick and long Dean’s cock was when you gripped it in your hand. You could see the thickening muscle of his knot at the base and Dean grunted when you ran your tongue along it. Licking all the way up his shaft to the tip, you sucked the head of his cock into your mouth, ran your tongue along the underside, and traced the several thick veins you could feel.

“Fuck,” Dean hissed through gritted teeth as you took as much of him inside your mouth and down your throat that you could, making sure to gently play with his balls as you teased him with your tongue. It only took another thirty seconds before Dean was gasping and writhing on the bed, showering you with praises.

Once you felt his cock begin to swell, you released him from your mouth and winked at him, allowing him to calm down and catch his breath. His hands were fisted in the blankets on either side of him and his chest was glistening with a thin sheen of sweat. When he sat up and grabbed your wrist, you straddled his lap and pinned his arms on either side of his head.

“Not so fast, cowboy. This is my rodeo.” Moving your hips back and forth, you slid your pussy along the length of his cock, smiling when Dean let out a shuddered breath that turned into a low growl.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” he taunted, one of his cheeks indented with a dimple from a lopsided smirk.

Lifting your hips, you grabbed his cock - maybe a little tighter than you should have based on the grunt he let out - and positioned the thick head at your entrance. Not being one for taking things slow, you dropped yourself down onto his lap, taking his entire cock at once and releasing his hands.

“Je- fuck!” Dean shouted, his hands shooting to your hips to steady you as you adjusted to his size. When you squeezed down on him, almost painfully tight, he gasped and jerked his hips up, pressing the tip of his cock against the entrance to your womb.

“Feel good, Alpha?” you purred, brushing your fingernails gently over his nipples.

Dean wasn’t used to being dominated like this, you could tell, and it was taking almost all of his willpower to not flip you underneath him and pound you into the mattress. “You gonna just sit there or are you gonna ride me...” he flashed his eyes, “Alpha?”

Growling at the use of your title, you began to slide up and down on his cock, making sure to swirl your hips occasionally and squeeze down on him. The sensation of having an Alpha cock inside you was just as intoxicating as it probably was for Dean to feel the walls of your pussy basically massage his cock as you rode him.

Dean tried to sit up and take control at least three times while you rode him, but you shifted your weight and pinned him down, much to his dismay. The lustful look in his eyes betrayed his frustration though; Dean was definitely enjoying himself. His fingers gripped you tighter as you came closer and closer to your climax, and you could feel the tug of Dean’s knot at the base of his cock as it began to swell.

“You wanna knot me?” you mewled into his ear, picking up the speed of your hips and ignoring the burning in your thighs. While you’d never been knotted before, the competing pheromones and scents in the air were driving you mad with lust and you ignored the likely discomfort that being knotted would bring.

“Y-yes,” Dean gasped, lifting his hips up to meet your movements, allowing his cock to slam into your g-spot with every thrust. “You feel so fucking good, gon’ knot you so hard.”

“Come on, Dean,” you panted, “knot me, baby. I know you wanna feel me squeeze down on you while you fill me up.”

With one violent jerk of his hips and a shout of your name, Dean slammed into you at full force, lodging his knot in your pussy while his cock twitched and filled you. The stretching sensation of being knotted sent you over the edge as well, holding onto Dean’s chest while you shook and spasmed around him, milking every drop of his cum from his cock.

Dean was still coming as you collapsed against him, both your bodies slick with sweat and pheromones as you tried to regain control of your breathing. Dean ran a hand up and down your back as exhaustion pulled at your consciousness, but you cleared your throat, shook your self out of it, and looked up at him.

“Well, that was interesting,” you said with a chuckle.

Dean laughed and kissed your forehead. “Yeah. Are you okay? I’m not hurting you am I?” A mischievous smirk crossed your lips as you fluttered your pussy around him, making him twitch and release another spurt of cum inside you. “Fuck,” Dean groaned, “don’t do that.”

“You weren’t complaining five minutes ago,” you mumbled against his chest, drawing nonsensical patterns on his skin with your finger.

“No, no I wasn’t,” Dean huffed a laugh before you felt his body go rigid. “Shit, we didn’t…”

Snuggling further into his chest, you waved your hand around lazily. “Relax, Dean. You can’t get me pregnant. Female Alphas are infertile unless they find their true mate, and since male Omegas are rare, too… I don’t think I’m getting pregnant anytime soon.”

Dean relaxed and wrapped his arms around you. “I’m sorry.”

You raised your head. “For what?”

“That you can’t have pups, or don’t think you see yourself having pups in your future. I know a lot of Omegas dream of it, and you’re an Alpha, but just because it’s rare doesn’t mean it can’t happen. Don’t give up. I can see if Castiel, our angel friend, might be able to help tomorrow, if you wanted to see if you had a soulmate out there.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. “You’d do that?”

Dean nodded. “It might be unpleasant how he has to do it, but it’ll be worth a shot.”

Before you could answer, there was a loud knock at the door, making you both jump, and making Dean’s knot tug where you were both still locked together.

“Are you two finished screwing each other? You’re stinking up the whole motel,” Sam’s slurred and angry voice came through the closed door. “And there’s like… three Omegas in the parking lot out here waiting their turn or something.”

Dean glanced at you, and you looked up at him, before you both broke out into full-body laughter. You were bouncing on his chest as you cracked up, but you didn’t miss Sam’s mumbled curse nor his footsteps walking away from the door. Bracing your arms on the bed, you lifted yourself up so you could look into Dean’s eyes.

“Like catnip, man. Like catnip.”

The laughter continued even when Dean could pull free from your body, and you snuggled up into his side, excited what tomorrow could bring.

Forevers [CLOSED]: @katymacsupernatural @queen-of-deans-booty @your-modern-shakespeare @wheresthekillswitch @holyfuckloueh @just-another-busy-fangirl @growningupgeek @jensen-gal @mizzezm @there-must-be-a-lock @atc74 @pilaxia @supernatural-jackles @impala-dreamer @bambi95-blog @wonderfulworldofwinchester @batmmgray @brooke-supernatural16 @dwgrl1903 @hey-bxtch @turnttoverr @kittenofdoomage @leanbeankeane @emoryhemsworth @xalgaliareptx @mhnfatima @bi-e-ne @speakinvain @pebblesz892 @kararanae23 @kassablanca13 @mogaruke @tockettt @imagining-supernatural @wildefire @serienjunkiegirl @mrswhozeewhatsis @stars-and-seas @jaremish @ellen-reincarnated1967 @nyxveracity @andkatiethings @bamby0304 @deathtonormalcy56 @winchesterprincessbride @moonstar86 @missihart23 @mrs-meghan-winchester @miss-rebel-without-applause @dean-winchesters-bacon @curly-haired-disaster @supernatural-teamfreewillpage

Dean/Jensen: @akshi8278 @adoptdontshoppets @focusonspn​ @spnwoman

[kamimuse]

Too many things to ponder

The lighting of his study was dimly lit as usual, the wick of candles burning down to their base before sputtering out into a thin stream of smoke. Candles were easily replaced of course, a new stick usually placed right over where the old one had been. It had been like this for a few days now. The trove of tomes Hisao and Neugdae brought back from Thavnair were half rifled through. Hisao didn’t have time to actually read through them, but he had been skimming through and transcribed the Thavnarian script to the more common written word into a new grimoire he was crafting for himself. He’d only been transcribing the spells he thought would be beneficial and necessary. It was a good distraction, even if he wasn’t sure half of what he was doing was useful currently, but it beat the strange silence and mix of emotions he’d been feeling over the past week.

He had spent his time pouring over texts and journals about dimensional travel, alternate dimensions and any research involving planar travel. Nothing he found was useful, though his talk with Vindi had been insightful. It had given him ideas to play with and things to research, but these topics were the kind that got scholars and researchers laughed out of their field. There wasn’t enough printed and readily available information out there. Perhaps he just needed to stop formulating plans. Maybe he needed to do something already.

Between his private conversations, the attack in the hall, dealing with the aftermath of that said attack, and then Araijah showing up on his doorstep frightened out of his mind; The old man was starting to feel overwhelmed. His body was physically worn down due to his mental state. He was grateful that Araijah and Neugdae were there for him, as the pair of spirited youth had give him a much needed reprieve from all the stress, by fussing over the Hingan with their doting concerns for his well being. He couldn’t keep running on the same track. Things needed to change soon.

He was temporarily ripped from his thoughts and his transcribing task at hand when he felt a low thrum of energy from beneath his feet. He knew where that was coming from. Slowly he turned to look toward the bookshelf behind him near the stained glass window, his senses starting to slip almost as if someone had tied a rope around him and was starting to pull. That overwhelming sensation pulled right down that secret passage and into the lower basement chamber. This had been happening more and more lately, despite the wards he had in place- which he checked on religiously. Among the many other’s he had to deal with, it had been a distraction he didn’t dare bring up.

Knock, Knock.

The Raen jumped in his seat when the knock came, startling him out of his wits and pulling him back to reality. He pinched the bridge of his nose, sighing heavily when the door slid open. Whether he was prepared to accept visitors or not, in stepped the slender female Raen who had been staying with him. The purple haired woman leaned in the sliding doorway as she watched her brother for a moment, her tail swaying from side to side. Hisao had already turned back to his work at hand, pushing all other thoughts aside while she stood there in silence. It was an odd tension between them. Yui was one of the few who still talked to him within their immediate family, but it didn’t mean their relationship wasn’t strained. Somehow, he had a feeling he knew what she wanted to discuss, and it was a conversation he still wasn’t entirely ready for.

“Yes?” He asked finally, finding her silence more irritating than anything else. It made him nervous.

“I have been here for over a week now. I need to get back to Kugane, the holiday is coming up and it’s my busiest season. I have work to do. Have you made a decision on what you want to do?” She was forward, and straight to the point.

“I will not be requiring your services yet. I’m still not certain on what to do.” He said quietly.  He set the quill pen down onto a small rectangular pen holder while watching the red ink dribble from the metal tip across the porcelain surface. Poetic that he would be using red ink in transcribing Thavnarian blood magic.

Clearly the small woman didn’t like his answer and she frowned quite hard at the back of the old man’s head. Striding over to lean against his desk as she peered down at him, folding her arms over her chest- yes her displeasure with her older brother was quite well known with her body language alone.

“You’ve been miserable. You’ve had more mood swings since I’ve been here in a week than you’ve ever felt in your entire life. You need to make a choice.” She scolded.

“I’m looking for alternative solutions.” Hisao explained.

Yui rolled her eyes. She was frustrated, clearly. While her stay in the Shroud had been an entertaining one, she was getting restless. She couldn’t wait on Hisao to hem and haw over this forever. So she walked around his chair to the other side of his desk and opened a drawer. Hisao immediately felt violated as the young woman began rifling through his things and he simply growled.

“What are you doing?”

She produced a handful of loose blank parchment and then promptly grabbed his quill from his desk, spinning and marching off into the kitchen, calling back over her shoulder.

“I’m just going to write you the rituals. I can’t sit here and wait for you to make a decision.” She sighed, sitting down at the table as she began scribbling out ritualistic instructions she knew off the top of her head. She ought to know them, she performed them quite often for her clientele back in the east. “I do know other rituals, but they require some really heavy-handed spell components. Ones you may not want to even bother with. Regardless- I’ll write them down anyways so you can pick and choose what is convenient for you.“

Brows knit together as the older Raen stood in the doorway leading into the kitchen, staring after her with quiet fury. There were other things he could have done? Why didn’t she tell him from the beginning? A quiet fury began to build in the older man as he took deep breaths, trying not to explode on the woman as he strode over to the table where she sat, watching her transcribe on stolen parchments.

“Why didn’t you tell me this sooner?” He asked firmly.

“Because it’s a lot of work!” she gestured with a huff.

“I didn’t ask for the simplest and easiest solution. I’m looking for the best solution, regardless of the amount of ritual work it takes. How dare you-“

“They all come with sacrifices, Hisao.”

The older Hingan eventually fell silent and sighed heavily. He couldn’t argue with Yui, and she was right- she needed to go home. He only wished she could stay longer- perhaps for another week. If she could write him the rituals, then he could easily perform them on his own or with assistance. He really didn’t need her there in the end, he just needed the spells.

“When are you heading back?” He asked, pinching the bridge of his nose as he moved to slump in a chair across from her at the table. “I was thinking of leaving tonight, head to Thanalan and do some shopping before hopping an airship to Limsa Lominsa. Probably stay there for a day or so then head out in two days.” She cast a glance to her brother thoughtfully.

Hisao reflected on her words for a moment before turning and heading back into the study silently, sinking down into the chair at his desk. Leaning heavily to one side, chin in the palm of his hand, the Raen stared off to the flickering burning candles just to the left of him. Fire was hypnotizing at times, but it allowed him to think while he stared into the brilliance of that light. Too many things to think about. Too many thoughts to process, too many emotions of despair not his own. Even when his own were mixed into the lot, it was like throwing gasoline onto the fire. Then there were the random influxes of pleasure, sadness, rage, and self-doubt. Yui was right. He couldn’t sit on this any longer. He was miserable.

Casting his gold eyes away, he peered at a new fresh leather-bound journal he’d purchased the other day. His conversation with Vindi had given him much to think about. The pages still blank and unused, he had yet to start compiling a list of memories into written form.

Depending on the other rituals Yui presented him with, perhaps he wouldn’t need to.

[writing-of-a-british-bitch]

Not His Fucking Prostitute

silwrFandom: Queen/ Bohemian Rhapsody

Specified gender: Female

Pairing: Brian May X reader

TW: language, Freddie’s a fucking dick, slut-shaming I guess????

Genre: ANGST, tiny bit of fluff

Word Count: 1.6K

Requests: OPEN

A/N: So, this is more of a lazy write, because i wanted to get a fic out, considering that the last chapter of Child Of Mine is taking forever. Because it’s a lazy write, I kind of took my favourite scene from the movie. Sorry if this annoys anyone. This was fun to write and if y’all like it, I’ll probably write a part 2!

You clutched the two boys hands tightly as you were led into the living room by Paul. Your brother, Roger, let go of your hand as he wandered over to one of the chairs, collapsing into it lazily. You shook your head lightly before taking a seat next to your husband, Brian, but still close enough to Roger just in case either of you lashed out. There was a pit in the bottom of your stomach and you could tell that your bandmates felt exactly the same. Roger quickly lit a cigarette, taking a drag before handing it over to you. Brian sent Roger a disproving glance. He didn't care that both of you smoked, it was the fact that you shared cigarettes that he found peculiar. It was something you'd started doing in university. What was the point in wasting money buying two packs for two different people? You both pretty much went everywhere together anyway. Deacy was lounging on his seat, perching his head on his hand. Brian took your hand as you passed Roger the cigarette back after taking a drag. Suddenly, Freddie strolled in trying to look casual, but it was obvious he was on edge. Your fellow lead singer poured himself a drink as Paul took a seat in the corner with a cup of tea. Roger quickly extinguished the cigarette, placing it in the ashtray. Freddie kept his back to the band as he began to speak.

"MTV banned our video. The Youth of America. We helped give birth to MTV." Freddie announced, swiftly spinning on his heel to face you all, annoyance clear on his face.

"It's America. They're puritans in public, perverts in private." Brian reasoned, leaning back slightly.

"I'm never touring in the US again. And I'm the one being blamed for it. Not you dear, whose idea, I believe, it was to dress up in drag." Freddie gestured to you and Roger, who immediately exchanged glances " And not you." he looked at Brian " Not even you, who wrote the bloody thing."Deacy was next to be aggressively pointed at " No. Crazy, cross-dressing Freddie. Freddie the freak. Freddie the fag.  I'm tired of touring, aren't you? Album, tour, album, tour. I want to do something different." Freddie huffed and your friends shot him an exasperated look.

"We're a band. That's what bands do. Album, tour, album, tour." Brian responded, raising an eyebrow

"Well, I need a break. I'm sick of it." Freddie turned to the window harshly.

"What are you saying, Freddie?" Deacy questioned, voice clear of any emotion. There was a pregnant pause, doing nothing to relieve any of your nerves.

"I've signed a deal with CBS records."He finally admitted. Everyone shot up in their seats, faces showing both surprise and anger

"You've done what?" Roger snapped, glaring daggers at Freddie's striped shirt.

"Without telling us?"You added, voice rough. Brian squeezed your hand. You had an identical temper to your brother. Short, explosive and sometimes terrifying.

"Look, I'm not saying we won't record or ever tour again. Queen will go on. But I need to do something different. Do you know what I mean? I need- I need to grow. What's-what-what's the song? "Fly Away"?" Freddie tried, swivelling around. Out the corner of your eye, you could see Paul's beady eyes watching the band's every move, his mole-like face failing to hide his joy.

"Spread my wings and fly away" Deacy quoted, his eyes narrowed slightly. You were shaking at this point, anger coursing through you. Brian was watching you carefully, just as Deaky was watching Roger. One Taylor's temper was one explosion on its own. But two? It was like a world war.

"Spread my wings and fly away" Freddie parroted, a small, awkward smile on his lips.

"A solo album?"Brian asked in disbelief, both his eyebrows raised. He couldn't believe that this was happening.

"Two, actually."Paul chimed in and your head snapped in his direction, fire in your eyes. However, Roger managed to voice his annoyance first

"Another word out of you and ill throw you out the bloody window." Roger barked, his hands formed into a fist

"But that's years Freddie. I mean that'll take years" Deacy stated, resting both his elbows on his knees.

"Ye of little faith, "Freddie remarked

"I don't believe this." Roger huffed and you twisted your torso to look at Freddie.

"How much?" You questioned, voice hard. Even Roger was scared, underneath his own fury. "What did they pay you?" You recieved no response, so you stood up, your knee catching the coffee table, causing it to scoot back. Roger stood up too, prepared to stop you if you tried to hit someone. "I wanna know how much they paid you!"

"4 million dollars!"Freddie yelled and your eyes widened and you began pacing, Roger close behind. He leant on the back of Deacy's seat and you were leaning on his shoulder

"That's more than any Queen deal." Deacy murmured, shock lacing his voice.

"Look the routine is killing us. I mean, you must all want a break from the arguments. I mean, whose song gets on the album, whose song's the single, who wrote what, who gets a bigger slice of the royalties, what's on the B-Side, all of it! You must need a break!"Freddie exclaimed, his tone surprisingly light

"Freddie we're a family."Brian snapped, edging on a hiss.

"No, we're not! We're not a family. You've all got families, children, wives! What have I got?"Freddie shouted suddenly, making you tense. He gestured at you as soon as he said wives, glaring at you slightly. You could hear your heartbeat in your ears as you gripped Roger's arm to stop yourself from doing anything irrational.

"You've got 4 million dollars, perhaps you can buy yourself a family," Deacy remarked, clearly trying to stand up for you considering that your vexation was rendering you speechless for the time being.

"I won't compromise my vision any longer."Freddie growled, bringing his cigarette to his lips as he snapped his body back to the window

"Compromise? Are you joking?" You piped in, unable to bite your tongue

"You were working at Heathrow before we gave you a chance!"Roger continued, usual soft voice turning bitingly cold

"And without me...you'd be a dentist, drumming 12/8- time blues at the weekend at the Crown in Anchor." Freddie stormed over to Roger, getting right up to his face " And you. Well, you would be Dr. Brian May, author of a fascinating dissertation on the cosmos, that no one ever reads." Your grip on Roger grew impossibly tight as Freddie began targeting your husband "And Deacy, for the life of me...nothing comes to mind."Freddie finished, letting out a small breath of air

"I studied electrical engineering, does that meet your standards?"Deaky sighed. You saw Paul hide a laugh. You really wished Roger had thrown him out the fucking window.

"That's perfect."Freddie chuckled before finally looking at you.

"And (Y/N). You'd be sharing an apartment with your brother in a failing theatrical career, standing on street corners to earn extra money. Because you wouldn't have Brian to feed on or to become his prostitute." You felt yourself falter. That's when Brian and Deacy stood up. Deacy held Roger's arms as he lunged at Freddie. Brian began walking over to the group. Brian had a lot of patients... but hearing someone who was supposed to be his and his wife's friend basically call her a slut... it put gasoline on an otherwise calm fire. That's when you suprised Brian. You reached up and landed a harsh slap to Freddie's cheek. Freddie's cheek burnt and he gave you a flabbergasted look.

"You can say a lot of things to me. But never, ever say that I'm using my husband just to get money or fame. Just because you haven't realized that that is precisely what someone is doing to you. There's a lot of things that I am. But I'm. Not. His. Fucking. Prostitute. The fame has gotten to your head Bulsara. " You hissed and Freddie simply replied with a blank stare before beginning to head to the door.

"You just killed Queen."Roger snapped before he could leave.

"Oh give it a kiss one day. She might wake up."Freddie stated cockily.

"You need us, Freddie. More than you know."Brian tried one last time.

"I don't need anyone."Freddie then took his leave. Paul followed, after putting his hand on Roger's should, which was instantly shoved off. Deacy finally let go of Roger who immediately pulled you into him.

"I should have fucking killed him,"Roger mumbled into your shoulder

"Yeah, I should've too," Brian replied and you could see on Deacy's face that he agreed.

"So what do we do now?" Deaky asked and you pulled back from Roger's hug.

"We can't make music without Fred. It wouldn't be the same. I suppose we just continue on with our lives as best we can." Brian sighed and you glanced between your three boys.

"I'm sorry guys. I shouldn't have gotten as angry as I did. And i shouldn't have hit him." You apologized quickly.

"Don't apologize (Y/N). Shit-faced or not, Freddie should never have said that. You have every right to be angry." Deacy replied, running a hand over his face.

"I guess we should probably get out of Freddie's house," Brian suggested and you all nodded in agreement. After leading yourselves out, you and Brian got in a cab, wishing Deacy and Roger goodbye. They were both heading back to their own families. As you and Brian began your journey home, he wrapped his arm around your waist, resting your head in his neck and placing his own head on top of yours. He loved you so much. Freddie could say whatever he wanted. But he was yours, just as you were his.

Tags: @dusthas-beenbitten @writingfortoomanyfandoms @queens-n-roses @silvver-rose @benhardyjones

i think tags are broken again. Also, i know this isn’t everyone but tumblr is super glitchy and and my google docs keeps crashing.