#starchasing are something that don’t let me go out

[dumbass-gryffindor1960]

I feel really bad tonight, i should go to sleep, but if i do I’m gonna go insane, don’t want it though. So I’m just gonna keep me awake with some cute Wolfstar things. Also I’m actually obsess with the « p4perback x whataboutpadfoot » duo (perfect actors for Wolfstar i swear)

[cogentranting]

Rating Non-Disney Animated Horse Designs

I’m back by popular demand/well not really but my optimism’s grand

A sequel to my Disney horse Rating post for all the other random non-Disney horses. Dreamworks, Bluesky, random cartoons, anything I could find. Featuring: Altivo, Spirit, some Barbie horses, and a few abominations.

Horse (Sing)

6/10 I don’t hate it and I feel like I should because it’s really hard to anthropomorphize horses that much without making them into the stuff of nightmares.

Shadowfax (The Lord of the Rings) 

5/10 There’s nothing WRONG with him per se, but it’s SHADOWFAX. Lord of all horses. He should wow me, and he doesn’t. Check out Gandalf’s weird sock-boots though. 

Hervé (Barbie as the Princess and the Pauper) 

-6/10 Horses' mouths don’t look like that. Horses’ mouths should not look like that. This thing wants to eat human flesh but can’t because it has two solid curved huge teeth with no physical  relationship with its jaw. Also this horse has the beginnings of male-pattern baldness. 

Princess Brietta (Barbie and the Magic of Pegasus)

1/10 Her eyes are flat like they’ve been painted onto her socketless skull. And there’s something very off-putting about this shade of pink. 

Beauty, Merry Legs, Ginger (Black Beauty) 

4/10 Ginger isn’t ginger. That is not a sorrel horse. There’s ONE requirement. Beauty’s the best of the three which is I guess what counts. 

Hans, Klaus and Greta (Ferdinand) 

2/10 I hate them so much. The core design isn’t that bad but the way they move and pose is. No horse should make that face. The one on the left is stretched putty.

The Grand Chawhee (All Dogs Go to Heaven)

I know what you’re thinking-- “isn’t that a mule or a donkey of some sort?” No. He’s a racehorse. Maybe a thoroughbred. And it’s his birthday so the other horses let him win. 

9/10

Stella (All Dogs Go to Heaven)

1/10 She gets one point for being nice to Chawhee. But she’s clearly some sort of alien giraffe hybrid. 

Odette’s horse (Swan Princess) 

7/10 Just a nice little palomino design.  

That little shaggy pony (The Quest for Camelot)

12/10 Amazing. Look at the determination.

Buck (Barnyard) 

2/10 See this is what that horse from Sing COULD have looked like. 

The Horse in the Back, Not Klaus But I Couldn’t FInd a Better Picture (Klaus)

9/10 He matches his owner and I respect that

Leah (The Star) 

4/10 This is horse is voiced by Kelly Clarkson. That has nothing to do with her rating, I just thought you should know. 

(Starchaser: The Legend of Orin) 

8/10 for both. I have questions but I do not want answers. It’s better this way. 

Fred (Over the Garden Wall)

7/10 don’t love that his head is a different color than his body in a weird way but he looks neurotic and fun. 

The Chariot Horses (Prince of Egypt)

8/10 I’ve just always liked these guys with their square faces and fun hats. 

Altivo (The Road to El Dorado)

7/10 Look at the little curl in his mane. Good personality. A little too much “Dreamworks Face” 

Donkey in Horse Form (Shrek 2? one of the Shreks) 

3/10 Look at his face. I DREAD what he might have to say. 

Esmeralda, Esperanza, Ernestina (Madgascar 3)

2/10 They’re coming for you. Coming to drag you into the Abyss. 

Police Horse (Madagascar)

7/10 I like his face shape. Compare him to the Madgascar 3 horses-- look how much more identifiable as a horse he is. 

Melvin (The Lorax)

10/10 He’s not a horse, but he’s so fluffy I love him. 

Babieca (Puss in Boots)

4/10 This horse has dead eyes. 

Onyx (Rise of the Guardians) 

13/10 She’s the leader of the nightmares and I would fully support her terrorizing the dreams of children. I’m pretty sure she and her mares ate the boogie man. A true Girlboss.

Yi Min (Kung Fu Panda but I think just an online game) 

-20/10 Just from a design perspective there’s far too much going on so it’s hard to even make it all out. Also I would have zero idea that this was a horse if the wiki page didn’t tell me it was. It has split hooves? 

Spirit Jr. (Spirit: Riding Free) 

8/10 Objectively I know the design is good  but my heart rebels against this show’s existence. 

Boomerang Thomas Stone (Spirit: Riding Free) 

8/10 I’m not doing all the horses from this show but I had to throw him in because he’s cute and he has a middle and last name for some reason.

Horse (Centaurworld) 

Why are there two distinctly different designs for her? This one gets a 9/10. The round one is like... a 5. All the other creatures in this show are eldritch abominations that will haunt me in my sleep now. 

Esperanza and all the other horses from this movie (Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron) 

10/10 No notes. Perfect horses. 

Rain (Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron) 

15/10 I don’t have a joke here I just really like the way they differentiated her and made her pretty without too much anthropomorphizing. I like that she has a roman nose.  I like her feather. 

Spirit (Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron)

100/10 He’s everything. He shaped me as a person. No other animated horse can compare. 

[reguluslovesspelunking]

ways my boyfriend and i are jegulus…

me (regulus):

- my birth chart told me to be careful around water and something about an inheritance

- regulus is a star in the constellation “leo”. i am a leo.

- i have a dark sense of humor

- whether i mean to or not, i usually look like i’m glaring daggers at someone

- i used to dislike my boyfriend when we first met, then didn’t want to admit that i thought he was cute.

- i’m a fucking black cat and i hate people. i don’t let people get too close, and people physically make me feel claustrophobic

- i was just told that i apparently snore like how a cat purrs??

- i am the younger sibling, i have an older brother who is a gryffindor while i am a slytherin

- i dont trust easy and i have a small tight knit group of friends who i’d kill for. major fucking guard dog

- i enjoy reading. my favorite genre is murder mysteries

- autism.

him (james):

- wears glasses

- is always fixing his hair

- on the astrology app “the pattern” it said he was most similar to “james potter”

- has red boxers with stags on them??

- has a sun carved on his fucking house, and a stag candle holder statue on his porch

- always tries to see the best in everyone

- “has the ego the size of a lake but a heart to match it”

- still uses pinky promises (art heist, baby?!)

- was dating this girl named “lily” before me…

- fuckin simp

- is the motherfucking sun

- very much ADHD

together:

- we love bagels. it’s crimson rivers coded.

- he’s the only person to get me to fold. i get flustered so easily but literally only by him?? i either forget how to speak or he says something cute and i go “shut the fuck up”

- before i read choices, i was going through A LOT. we had a conversation about how i felt like i was the common denominator so i must be the issue. choices also made me realize that i was a regulus kinnie

- before i read art heist, baby! i freaked out and said that people always leave. i expect it at this point. i have ✨abandonment issues✨ and tbh i was just enjoying all the time i could with him before i thought he was gonna leave. i was grateful i at least had him (he has not left yet)

- i have a hard time with sleep. i sometimes have to dr*g myself in order to knock out. i started sleeping over his dorm this past semester and i didn’t need anything. i felt safe. i fell asleep to his breathing and the beating of his heart. i just read this part of only the brave and my jaw dropped.

- our tropes are pretty much: grumpy/sunshine, hurt/comfort, slowburn, who did this to you?, friends to lovers

- “i’m not letting you go back there”. a situation happened this past semester where i was trapped in an inhumane living situation. it got so bad that one day i was secretly moving out but became physically stuck in there. he barged in and rescued me. it was the equivalent of james potter storming grimmauld place to rescue regulus black from bellatrix ft rodolphos, walburga, and lucius

- i got him to cosplay jegulus with me and we’re really cute :)

anyways…. he doesn’t know the marauders lore except for what i tell him but we discover more and more parallels constantly and it’s gotten to the point where it genuinely freaks me the fuck out. we are jegulus. sunseeker variants. starchaser reincarnated. hopefully this won’t end in tragedy

[iwriteasfotini]

Jegulus Excerpt

My third Jegulus days celebration post. I know it was yesterday, but is there really such a thing as too much Jegulus? Nope. Another excerpt from Book 3, written from James’ POV. It stands alone from the excerpts I shared for day one and day two and is from Chapter XXI. More budding Starchaser for your entertainment. 

Showered and changed, the team left the locker room arm in arm. There were still many people milling about the lawn, as it was such a lovely day. And soon the team was scattered among friends who wanted to recap the match. James looked to the lake, where he thought his mates were most likely to be. All three were there, Remus skimming stones while Sirius and Peter lay in the grass. But they hadn’t spotted James yet, so he took another sweeping look around the grounds and saw what he was looking for, a shadow shifting near the locker room entrances. 

He doubled back, if anyone asked he’d say he had left something behind. He hustled back to the locker room, and slipped through the door. And James should have been surprised, but he wasn’t to find Regulus standing in the middle of the room, hands in his pockets. He was decked out in Slytherin colors, and the emerald green contrasted wonderfully with his pale complexion and dark hair. 

Before James could say so much as “hey” Regulus began speaking very fast, “I know I shouldn’t be here. I know you are my brother’s best friend. I know you hate me and the rest of my house. I just wanted to say I’ve enjoyed watching you fly this season. You are really good James. And you are a team player.” 

James could tell Regulus was rambling out of nerves. So James cut him off, “well I train really hard. You should come fly with me. Not like you need the practice.”

Regulus bit his lip and smiled sheepishly. James had rarely seen Regulus show an emotion that wasn’t disdain or aloofness. He had a really nice smile, and it reached all the way to his eyes, just like Sirius’ did. James’ stomach did a little flip and he felt some color creep into his cheeks. Thank goodness his dark skin didn’t show blushes as easily, what would Regulus think of him?

“You had better enjoy the Quidditch Cup while you have it, because next year we are going to be wiping the floor with you.”

“Oh really,” James took two steps forward. “I don’t know, the Slytherin’s looked pretty tame this year. Maybe you all have lost your touch. And for as little as I’ve seen you training, who’s to say you are even as good as I remember.”

“I’m excellent,” Regulus replied, eyes narrowing. But James shrugged. 

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Regulus pursed his lips, which were slightly less full than Sirius’.

“Fine, Wednesday morning. I’ll come fly with you, as long as -”

“Regulus,” James held up his hand, “I’m taking your secrets to the grave. You can trust me, yeah?” They stared at each other, then James watched a smile creep across Regulus’ face. James smirked back, and to keep the situation from getting any more awkward, he spit into his right hand and held it out to Regulus, who did not hesitate to mimic the gesture. They shook with a squelch. 

And when neither of them had let go after a solid ten seconds of shaking, James looked at their hands and said, “so, um, we gonna stand here all day or…”

Regulus went crimson, and he dropped James’ hand. 

“Wednesday,” James called after him as Regulus made to leave out the back door of the locker room. Regulus nodded and gave him a small smile. James stood in the empty locker room and then put his hands into his pockets, palm still slick with spit he didn’t feel the urge to wipe off. 

…

You can find more info on this series in my pinned post. Unfortunately, this is from Book 3, which is fully written but doesn’t have an announced posting date as of yet. But it’s coming to AO3, I promise! On Sunday I'm announcing the title, POV, and posting date for Book 2 in my Weekly Update.

[hazzypisce]

Starchaser/Jegulus mini one-shot

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─────

But my heart lies with you

Ao3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55288129

Summary:

Regulus writes a love letter to James. One that also talks about his thoughts, feelings, problems and desires. Even if they are not so happy as one would wish.

Notes:

This is all my sadness and stuff that is going on inside my head and I projected all on my poor guy Reg.

Sorry for any confusion or spelling mistakes.

Hope someone reads this and gets the vibe I wanted.

Words:

628

Additional Tags:

Love Letters, Sad and Sweet, Suicide thoughts, Regulus Black Needs a Hug, Regulus Black Deserves Better, POV Regulus Black, Light Angst, i think;

Oh, I feel the burden that is to be alive.

Every thought I have is about how I am going to die. Probably soon, maybe tomorrow, maybe today.

But my heart lies with you, and your existence fills my entire being with love and peace.

This puts me in a very weird position, at the same time that I want to end my suffering, I crave to spend the rest of my life and grow old with you.

If I don’t kill myself, someone will.

In an ideal world, you, my love, would have been living happily ever after with me, maybe with 2 or 3 children even, but life is not fair for anyone, especially with us. Unfortunately, I don’t think that I have any time left or desire to live another day. I can feel all my energy being sucked out of my body and my soul being stolen by some faceless person like someone is targeting and running after me as if I were some kind of plague that needs to be extinguished or else the entire world will die horribly.

Maybe I am a cruel monster that needs to be punished for all my crimes and sins, but you are the angel that lights up my days, and if I can be selfish one more time, let me take you and make you mine, so every day I can see your face and be reminded that there are good and beautiful things in the universe that make living a little bit better. That way, even if I die soon, the rest of my days will be filled with love and good memories.

Even if it’s not my intention, I know that it hurts you .My lack of self-love, my will to give up, my sadness, my silence, my absence and my impossible desire to be fulfilled by you- it’s probably a burden to you at this point.

Something good can happen because of this situation. Maybe it will make you grow as a person and force you to go on with your life, even if it’s not with me. I wouldn’t want you to be alone if I am gone, you deserve everything good in your life, more than anything that I could ever have given you.

Sometimes we have to let things go. They can still pester our thoughts. They can still eat us up.But we are free from their restraints and limitations.

Life can be a punishment for me, regardless if you are by my side or not, but it doesn’t have to be one for you too.

James, I love you.

I love you with all my being.

I don’t even know who I am without you.

Furthermore, I want to be selfish. I do. If I were in your position and you were to die, there’s not a chance I would survive. And that’s one more reason why I need to die-to end the dark thoughts that reverberate inside my head 24 hours a day, every day.

You can go on and live your life, I couldn’t.

This is a weird love letter about my love for you. One that transcends life and death.

And this is also a letter telling you my thoughts and feelings, because I’m afraid of them, but more so, I am afraid to lose you.

Marry me now and let’s give our lives to the universe so it can decide our fate, or, leave me and get going with your life, just don’t look back and get stuck in the past.

I really love you James; you are the single most precious and beautiful man that’s ever walked on earth, and I am glad that I could have called you mine someday.

Love, Reg.

[starchaserdreams]

Little Ball of Fire

(Jegulus/Starchaser)

Your prompt: Regulus gets into a heated argument with someone. Regulus begins threatening them, so James, picks up Regulus and carries/drags him out of the room before anyone gets hurt.

.

James could hear raised voices from the stairs as he walked back from Potions, but it wasn’t until he reached the corridor that he actually recognized the voices. 

Regulus. Snape.

James hurried up and pushed through the crowd. 

When he reached them, both of their wands were drawn, but neither of them were firing spells, so that was a good sign at least. 

“Don’t you dare say anything like that,” Regulus hissed. Snape just sneered in response, though he seemed to take in James and realize that Regulus had reinforcements. 

James didn’t know the context of the argument - was it homophobic? Something racist against muggles? Something particular about Regulus? - but he could tell from the state of the corridor that this was not a fight that Regulus would win. 

It wasn’t that Regulus couldn’t hold his own in a fair fight, of course he could. But in this particular instance, all of Snape’s cronies were standing around behind him, waiting for the conflict to turn into a duel that they could jump into. And James knew all too well that they wouldn’t hesitate just because it wouldn’t be a fair fight. 

If the fight started, James would be in it in Regulus’ defense immediately, but he would try to deescalate it first.

“You spineless, soulless ingrate,” Regulus went on, hurling insults almost faster than James could follow, “you worthless piece of thestral shite-”

“That’s enough, that’s enough,” James said hurriedly when he noticed that Mulciber and Avery’s wands were suddenly in their hands as well, “let’s go, Regulus.”

Regulus looked over at him immediately, registering his presence for the first time.

“No, this little-” Regulus began, but James cut him off by putting an arm around his shoulders and talking quickly. 

“We should go for a walk, Reg, just me and you.”

Regulus glared at him, now seeming to turn the direction of his anger. But James thought that was good - at least then he wouldn’t be at risk of starting a duel with the other Slytherins.

Snape was still sneering.

“James,” he said sharply, “I can hold my own in a fight, I don’t need you to-”

James shook his head, unable to communicate silently that the Slytherins wouldn’t fight fair. 

“Alrighty,” he said instead, trying to sound casual, “let’s go then, Reg.”

He tried to use the arm he had around Regulus to casually turn him away from the crowd.

Regulus kept his feet firmly planted on the floor, so James made the split second decision to act for him. He hoisted Regulus up into his arms and walked briskly away.

The sound of hisses rang out from the Slytherins behind them, but thankfully there were no spells fired at their backs. 

Regulus hit James a couple of times on his back, but he didn’t fight the motion until they’d reached the end of the hallway and turned into a new corridor.

“I’m alright, James,” he said, sounding resigned, “I’m not going to go back there.”

James let him down easily, fully trusting his words. 

Regulus leaned against the wall and sighed. 

“You were right, it wasn’t going to end well.”

James nodded. “Sorry for-” he gestured vaguely towards Regulus.

Reg waved the thought away with a hand.

“Better than getting cursed in the hallway, I guess.”

James nodded. “What was the argument about, anyway?”

One corner of Regulus’ mouth turned up. 

“You, as it happens.”

James blinked in confusion. 

“Me?” 

“Dating a Gryffindor is a betrayal, apparently. He had some choice words about you.”

James couldn’t help but laugh. They both turned and walked further away from the dungeons, James slinging his arm around Regulus’ shoulders again, but more casually this time. 

“Were you defending my honor, Regulus Black?

“Pffft,” Regulus denied. “As if. Defending my own, more like.”

James made a hero pose. “I must go back there to avenge your honor and defend my right to court you!”

Regulus just hit him in the arm lightly. 

“No you will not,” he said. “Let’s just go.”

James grinned. “Alright, where do you want to go?”

Regulus shrugged helplessly. “Anywhere, as long as it’s with you and away from them,”

James mock swooned. “Awwww, that was so sweet, Reg.”

Regulus blushed. 

“I said away from them, that’s not romantic, that’s self-preservation.”

James shook his head, not letting Regulus deny it.

“You said you’d go anywhere with me, you can’t take this moment from me, let me bask in it.”

Regulus just rolled his eyes. 

“Whatever you want, Potter.”

“First it was you’d go anywhere with me, now it’s I get whatever I want? This is the best day ever.”

“Potter,” Regulus said, “enough.”

James shifted to take Regulus’ hand and gave it a squeeze. 

“Lead the way, Reg, anywhere you wanna go, as long as I can come with.”

James saw Regulus roll his eyes, but he could still see the hint of a blush, and could tell that he was pleased.

On AO3 here

[cosmo112]

Its Alright

TOH [The Owl House] + Markiplire Egos x reader Angst Fluff

Illinois X reader

Tags <3

@dragonangel201 , @theo-cpr, @shrimpwreck , @aike-dbunny , @thebeezkneez , @lazyemisfandomtrash , @starchaser-the-prophet , @qualityearthquakes , @shrekisathot , @paradoxtverror , @a-patchofmoss , @destinysdreamer ,

warnings

Spoilers for The Owl House season 2, Self blaming, mentions of eating, [my terrible memory-]

————————-

You walked into the cave holding your lover’s hand. It was a well but instead of a reflection in the water it was a galaxy with yellow circles. And in Illinois’s hand was a strange skull. 

“Illinois. Don’t.” You looked over quickly as he threw in the skull. Before you could catch it it landed in the well. “ILLINOIS!” “What? Look again. I think we can jump in.” You sighed and got on the edge. Illinois followed after standing next to you. 

“Alright.” You sighed getting down and hurrying over to grab both of your backpacks. “Let’s go!!” You yelled and swan dived in as Illinois followed. You opened your eyes seeing the portal close and you where falling with Illinois into a forest. 

“FUUUUUUUUUUU!” You yelled before somehow not breaking every bone in your body as you landed on your ass. Illinois on the other hand fell in a tree’s branches.

“Ow.” He groaned as you laughed. “Alright! Let’s move I hear something over here!” You help Illi out of the tree. You both walk to a school looking place and seeing solders run around and you ran inside before Illinois could stop you. 

You saw two of those soldiers holding kids hostage. “Who are you?! Are you a teacher?” The Soldier hissed as you grabbed your bow and shot a warning shot. “Let them kiddies go. Before I introduce you to death.” You hissed as one dropped the kid and ran off. 

“C’mere kid your safe with me. I ain’t with child attackers.” You hissed as you loaded up your bow again. Before you could let go you saw a glowing circle pointed at the kid’s head. “If you shoot that THING! At me, I’ll kill the kid!” 

You laughed dropping your bow. “Fine I won’t shoot you with my bow. I’ll just walk away.” You smiled walking past smiling at the terrified kid. “C’mon bucko show me where you need to go.” You held the smaller kid’s hand as you reached in your bag. 

You grabbed a rag and tackled the soldier as Illinois walked in. “Babe-“ you looked up as the soldier fell unconscious. “Shhhh you knew what you where getting into dating the town Mystic.” You wagged your finger and grabbed the kids gently. 

“Kiddos what’s going on?” “The Emperor’s Coven! Their attacking the school to make us use sigils! Their gonna take our magic!”  One yelled grabbing your shirt and start crying.

“Illi. We gotta help.” You looked back as he fixed his hat and nodded as you walked through the school that seemed to change. You walked til you saw a battle in front of the auditorium. 

“Kids!” A teacher yelled as the students ran to them smiling. “Let’s go.” “Stop.” You turned back seeing a man with Fabulous long black hair. Especially for what age he looked like!

“Who are you?” “I’m y/n, the Human. This is Illinois. Also a Human.” You smiled and sucked punched a soldier who ran at you. “I wanted to return these kids after a run in with this-“ you waved to the soldiers as he laughed. “Alright.” You and Illi mostly hid in the back. 

Eventually entering the auditorium you noticed a blonde kid who had a terrible scar for his age! You looked away as he glanced at you. You walked up to Illinois and leaned on him as the HeadMaster explained what the bloody fuck was going on. 

“So your telling me. There’s a evil Emperor named Belos, who’s trying to do something evil with Covens.” Illinois tilted his head as you just sighed. “When will Evil People leave us ALONNEEE!” You bonked your head against Illinois’s shoulder with each word. 

[time skip to Unity Day] 

“Are you alright?” Illinois sat next to you as you had your head in your hands. Luz the other human, which was also. . Just a kid. She only sighed watching as you sat up. “We’re gonna do this. C’mon.” You got up and trudged outside. 

You all snuck to the Blight house. “You got this kids. You know how to reach me I’ll be distracting the Monster- I mean mother.” You kissed Illinois’s cheek and ran off giggling. 

If you went back you could hear teasing from Luz to Illinois. You knocked on the door straightening your attire and smiled at the woman with mint hair. “Hello! I would like to speak to you about the Abomatrons? I’m with the Emperor’s Coven.” 

She nodded and let you inside as you pulled up your sleeve and revealed the Illusion-created Mark. “As I was saying. The Emperor is very glad for your work! And I hope you already know?” “Yes. I know. What was the point of this visit?” She snapped at you as you stepped back laughing. “Well sorry! As I was saying.” 

You stopped for a second. Hopefully not too long. “The Emperor wants your Offspring to be semi royals! Of course under his almighty power. But your family has done him good! And he rewards those who do good!” 

Her eyes widened as you nodded. “Well tell The Emperor. We will gladly accept this!” She spoke with greed as you shook her hand. “Too bad your fake.” She gripped your hand hard and goo trapped you in place. “NO! No no no!” You yelled and fought the Abomination. 

Illinois appeared and got you out thankfully. “Let’s go.” You ran upstairs and got the kids outta there. “We need to stop the Abomatrons.” You hissed and jumped out the window and a kid named Gus who gave you the fake Mark magicked up some Uniforms. 

“This would’ve helped a ton earlier kid.” You laughed and snuck into the lab. “That’s Kikimora.” The blonde kid said pointing to the tiny demon climbing up a bot. 

“Alrighty.” You stood up straight. “C’mon.” Amity lead to the lab seeing it as empty. “What are you doing?” The Mint haired woman hissed as you jumped. Everyone started making excuses. You pulled the group from their babbling mess and escaped out.  

You guided them out and broke into a run before hitting your head on the edge of a magic wall of a dome. Amity and Luz monologues with the Mother while you walked over to Hunter and Gus. 

“You both okay?” They nodded as you hugged them close as Illinois joined in the bicker. “Honey!” You jumped as Illinois called you seeing Amity’s blood boil. Along with the restraints. 

“Amity. Calm down-“ you tried over the noise but the restraints popped off into a fist and she started punching the dome. Her face contorted into anger. 

The Luz whispered to Gus as you and Illinois started also punching the dome. Before you knew it it was popped and Kiki appeared and started the attack. Luz saved Hunter and Gus as you distracted them. 

Kiki grabbed Hunter as you yelled “NO! PUT HIM-“ Illinois Pulled you back and stopped you from the attack. He pulled you into his shoulder. “He’s a brave kid. He’ll be safe.” He whispered as neither of you knew what was going on other then you all escaped. 

Soon ushered onto a blimp you slid down the side and curled up next to Illinois who’s sat down. Luz looked around and stood by Amity. Gus looked tired as Amity addressed Luz and suddenly a puff of smoke and Hunter appeared instead of Luz. 

Gus explained how it was Luz’s idea. And the panic settles. You just slowly started drifting on and off sleep as started to bicker. “Hon you wanna something to eat?” Illinois poked your face gently and you nodded slowly. You both shared a sandwich as Hunter sat next to you. 

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled as you sat up. “What for kid?” “For dragging you here. You came for me if I wasn’t coming on this you would’ve never joined.” He looked down. And his ears where tilted in the same direction. 

“Kid. I’d never blame you. And illi don’t either. Your protecting your friends. That’s more then any kid where I’m from would ever do. Ya got spunk.” You smiled and patted his head. 

“You all must be tired. C’mon kids nap time.” You grinned as you opened your arms. Gus sat in your lap leaning on Illinois who just smiled at you. Admiring your sheer will to make sure these strange kids are at least healthy. Hunter leaned on your shoulder and Amity leaned on a box. 

Willow leaned on Illinois yawning as her Palisman sat on her lap. And the other palismen also joined in the snuggle party. Amity’s father chuckled as you gave a thumbs up and drifted off to sleep. 

Whatever it takes. These kids are your top priority.

[wlw-lovestruck-fiction]

Hey! Can I get a story with Galen? I'd love to read something smutty with that hot pirate!

"Had I known this port was home to such beauty, I would come far more often."

You whipped around from where you were sitting at a table and looked at the newcomer that had waltzed into the tavern. A charming smile on their face, an equally charming twinkle in their eye, fitting the charming voice - but if they had expected you to fall at their feet, overcome with swooning, they were mistaken. Instead, you smirked at them.

"If I had a gold piece for every time a sailor said that to me, I'd be rich by now."

"I would lie if I said that was surprising. May I get another chance?"

You chuckled, unable to resist the little smirk that had crept on their face, or the challenging look in their eyes.

"This one time."

"Splendid! Very well then..."

The sailor cleared their throat and then put a hand on their heart, looking into your eyes.

"They call me Starchaser."

"And?"

"Your eyes shine brighter than any in the night sky. May I gaze into them for a while longer?"

That brings a smile to your face as you avert your eyes for a moment, a slight flush springing to your cheeks at the sincerity in the sailor's eyes.

"Fine, I give you points for uniqueness on that one."

"I have heard no sweeter words today."

"You might later, if you would stop with the pick-up lines and take a seat."

"Ah, but before I do that, may I buy you a drink?"

"Only if you'll allow me the same later."

"That sounds like something I can live with."

---

The door was hard in your back when Galen shoved you against it, their lips soft but unrelenting on yours, their hands holding the key to your room - had you even given it to them? - and unlocking the entrance quickly, as if they'd done this sort of thing multiple times by now. Both of you didn't want to break the kiss while you half walked, half tumbled towards the bed, impatiently tugging at each others clothes. Their coat came off just before your vest, then you were pushed onto the bed, propping yourself up on an arm as you looked at them taking their shirt off.

"If you meant it when you said I'm the most stunning you've seen today, you certainly haven't looked into the mirror this morning."

Galen laughs quietly, climbing on the bed and on top of you, straddling you, cupping your cheek with one hand as their other begins opening the buttons on your top, deft fingers quickly making work of them, their eyes switching between yours and the new skin exposed, clearly unable to decide where to look.

"Oh, but I have."

"In that case, you clearly didn't speak true."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"Possibly."

"You wound me."

You smirk.

"Enough to ruin the mood for you, or will your heart be able to handle this?"

They chuckle again, although their eyes are darker this time, their teeth sinking into their own lip as they fully open your shirt and slide it off of your shoulders.

"Looking at you now, nothing could ruin my mood. May I?"

"I was under the impression we're past the stage of asking."

A low purr comes from Galen's throat as their lips descent back onto yours, their cool chest brushing over yours. You wrap your arms around them and pull them against you completely, moaning softly at the contact - just as they do, your foreheads resting together for a moment. Then you move up and take their bottom lip between your teeth, sucking, just as their hands stroke down your sides and to your hips, thumbs sliding under the waistband of your clothes. It tickles slightly, but yet it feels so cool, so perfect that you let go of their lip to moan again, a chance they use to trail tiny kisses along your jaw.

Galen quickly divests you of your clothing completely, groaning against you as you rake your nails over their back and tease your fingertips over their scales, kissing down your body - they nip at your collar bone with sharp teeth, just enough to sting a tiny bit amidst the pleasure, moving lower and lower, teasing their tongue over one of your nipples as their fingers toy with the other, their other hand on your hip, holding you steady when you want to grind against them.

"Patience, sweet star."

They purr into your skin, making you groan in impatience, continuing their path down, mapping you with their mouth and fingers.

"If you weren't such a smooth talker..."

"Then what? You'd flip me and return the like?"

"Possibly."

"You'll have plenty of chance for that later."

"I'm counting on it."

Galen purrs as they suck on your hipbone, trailing their tongue inwards, causing you to shiver - and the guttural moan that slips from your lips when they reach your core is more than earned, your hand tangling in their hair as their tongue skirts over your clit - ever so slightly at first, more teasing than anything else - but then they angle their head upwards, looking into your eyes as they sink two fingers inside of you, pressing against you with a hum. You claw into the sheets, your head falling back, back arching in pleasure as they begin to move both hand and mouth, curling their strong fingers against you, sucking and moving their tongue in a slightly different pace, never leaving you without sensation. You hold them against you as you pant, your eyes closed in delight, one of your legs moving to rest over their shoulder, giving you better hold as you give them better access.

For a moment, their mouth leaves you. Your whine fom the loss is quickly replaced by a moan as you look at them in the just perfect moment to see them sink their teeth into your leg, biting, sucking a mark on the inside of your thigh where no one but you will see it. Still holding your eyes, they lick back to where they were, tongue leaving a warm, wet trail on the inside of your leg right up to your core.

"Stars, Galen-"

You moan out their name more than say it, more curses spilling from your lips as they increase their pace just the right amount, taking their other hand away from your hips and allowing you to roll them freely against their face, hand scratching down your thigh before they move it up your side to tease your breasts.

"Don't stop. Fuck, I-"

With a hum, they continue just as before, listening to your words and your body to keep you there, closer and closer to the edge, holding you on it for a few torturous moments before allowing you to fall over, increasing their pace ever so slightly when you come and slowing down then, prolonging your orgasm for as much as they can and leaving you panting under them as the pleasure fades out, replaced by satisfaction and bliss.

"Fuck."

Their grin is warm against your neck before they fall to their side next to you.

"I stand corrected on my earlier statement."

Galen murmurs against your skin ever so softly, sighing a tiny bit.

"I've heard sweeter words since then."

"Told... you so."

They chuckle as they kiss your cheek, following your wordless demand as you angle your face and kissing you properly. Their lips taste slightly better with yourself still on them, their tongue tracing over your lower lip and deepening the kiss for a moment. You roll onto your side and stroke your fingertips over their back, enjoying the slight shiver that runs over their skin - and just a moment after, you kiss their neck and nip on their shoulder, the low groan and hiss from their lips a beautiful reward when you haven't even started yet.

Another moment later, they're on their back and you on top of them, pinning their hands down next to their head.

"And what's this supposed to be?"

You smirk and nip on their lower lip again.

"Payback."

[hadleeestenlily]

One of the Boys | (ATYD timeline)

One of the Boys | (ATYD timeline)

paring: Regulus Black x James Potter (Jegulus/Starchaser)

genre: Marauders Era, Harry Potter

warnings: child abuse, graphic depictions of violence, major character death

summary: Follows the timeline of ATYD through Regulus’s PoV, 1972-Death.

status: incomplete

!! This is only the first chapter !! You can read the full fic here:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29866974/chapters/73494978

Chapter One | First Year: The First Meeting

“Hurry up! We haven’t got all day, Reg.”

Regulus rolled his eyes, trailing after his older brother with little enthusiasm. He wasn’t nearly as excited as Sirius, who'd been bouncing off the walls before they even left for Platform Nine and Three Quarters. When he had come back for the summer, he could hardly shut up about Hogwarts. It was the only thing he seemed to talk about anymore, specifically during Regulus’s piano lessons, and dancing lessons, and history lessons, and all the other lessons his mother had given him to busy himself before he got to school. It seemed she wanted him to learn every useful thing he could before studying magic, and Regulus couldn’t really blame her. Ever since Sirius got back, he’d become a complete waste of space, lounging around and scribbling away at what he said to be homework, though Regulus knew he was secretly writing letters to his friends.

Sirius had dragged him into a compartment on the train, pulling Regulus by the sleeve and saying, “You’ll love them! I know you will.” Surprisingly, Regulus had let him. He wouldn’t usually encourage such behavior, but it wasn’t every day that Sirius looked so cheerful, and part of him didn’t want to ruin that, though he’d never admit it.

Summer had been a right mess, though he wouldn’t admit that either. Bellatrix’s wedding went smoothly, but after that, everything had started going downhill. Sirius just didn’t know when to stop. He never did.

“Here we are,” Sirius said with a grin, sliding open the carriage door and gesturing to the seats.

There was only one other person in the compartment, a straw-haired boy that looked like he could be younger than Regulus. He was abnormally small for a twelve-year-old, and he looked nervous, as if he wasn’t quite sure whether he was sitting in the right seat. His eyes darted between Sirius and Regulus, no doubt noticing how similar they appeared. Maybe he was actually having trouble telling them apart.

“Sirius,” the boy greeted, finally, giving the older brother a timid smile. “Have you seen James yet?”

“He’ll be along,” Sirius said, waving a hand dismissively. “Oh!” he added, as if he’d already forgotten, “This is my brother, Regulus. Reg, this is Peter.”

Peter smiled cheerily, but Regulus shot the expression down with a fierce glare. He didn’t have time for making friends with filthy half-bloods. Instead, he brushed into the compartment and sat down in the corner seat, placing his chin in his hand and staring broodingly out the window.

“Er… Sorry ‘bout him,” Sirius said apologetically, stuffing their stuff into the luggage rack.

“S’ok,” Peter said, twisting his hands anxiously in his lap.

Sirius plopped down on the seat next to Regulus and nudged his elbow, to which Regulus shot him a glare. Surprisingly, his brother didn’t return it. He only raised an eyebrow at him quizzically, silently asking why he was in such a foul mood. But Regulus didn’t want to talk about it. He never wanted to talk about it. He wouldn’t even know where to start.

Well, that wasn’t entirely true. The source of all their troubles always led back to one person in particular; their mother. Sirius knew that better than anyone, it seemed; even better than Regulus. He always knew exactly how to get on her bad side, and did so quite often. Too often, in Regulus’s opinion, but no matter how hard he tried to get Sirius to do as he was told, he just kept disobeying. He’d already fallen out of their family's favor for being placed in Gryffindor. You’d think that might’ve been enough, but no, not for Sirius. If anything, it had given him even more determination to be the worst kind of nuisance the Black family had ever seen.

Which led to Regulus’s other problem; what house he’d be placed in. He was terrified of what would happen to him if he got into Gryffindor, or any house other than Slytherin for that matter. His mother was so adamant that he not add to the list of family disappointments; first Andromeda and now Sirius. What would happen if a third Black child was led astray? Their family reputation would be in ruins. They would fall out of favor with the other pure-blood families, and what then? Regulus wasn’t sure, but he didn’t want to find out.

It was then that the door decided to slide open, cutting Regulus’s thoughts short. He didn’t even bother to greet whoever it was - just another dirty blooded wizard his brother had befriended - but his ears still pricked upon hearing the joy in Sirius’s voice as he welcomed the newcomer.

“James!” Sirius cried, jumping out of his seat and clapping the other boy on the shoulder.

Ah, yes. The infamous blood traitor.

“Hello Sirius, been a while,” James drawled, sounding just as cheerful. “You too, Pete.”

“Hiya James,” Peter replied, much more relaxed now that the other boy had arrived.

Regulus didn’t bother to greet him, or even glance at him. He just studied the view out his window all the more intently, watching as a girl chased an orange tabby cat down the platform, attempting to squeeze through the crowd so as to not lose track of it. He saw another girl hugging their mother goodbye, tears in her eyes. Pathetic, he thought silently.

Then Regulus heard rustling from behind him as James placed his luggage on the rack. “And who’s this?” he asked no one in particular.

“Ah, that’s just my prat brother. Don’t worry bout him,” Sirius said as the boys settled into their seats. “You seen Remus?”

As if on cue, the door slid open again. Regulus rolled his eyes, becoming increasingly agitated with the noise. Was it too much to ask for a little peace and quiet? As the chorus of greetings started again, he attempted to stay focused on the platform, watching as a small boy tried to stick his fingers through an owl cage. Regulus wanted to warn him, but instead he just grimaced as the bird pecked the boy’s finger, drawing blood, and watched him burst into tears.

“Lupin!”

“Hiya lads. How’s it been?”

“We should be asking you!” James laughed. “Not one owl all summer!”

“You know I’m practically a muggle over the holidays. Couldn’t even get into my trunk to do homework; they locked it up.”

Regulus scoffed at the word muggle. He couldn’t help it. It’d become a habit he’d picked up from his mother. She always seemed proud when he did it, and it certainly didn’t hurt her mood. It was too late, however. The boy was already frowning at him. He was on the taller side, with a shaved head of hair and a glower that seemed oddly familiar. Regulus found himself not fully despising this one. At the very least, he didn’t sound nearly as cheerful as the rest of them.

“This is Reg,” Sirius introduced, now that his presence had been acknowledged. “Say hello, Reggie.”

“It’s Regulus,” he corrected irritably. Sirius only used ‘Reggie’ when he wanted to sound older, even though Regulus was the one who acted more his age.

“My darling brother,” Sirius told the boys.

Then someone shoved a hand toward him, and Regulus finally looked up to meet the gaze of the boy sitting across from him.

“Hi Regulus, I’m James,” he said, with an annoyingly friendly smile. His head was topped with dark curls, and large round glasses took up most of his face, but it didn’t stop his eyes from twinkling brightly. Regulus felt his stomach flip, no doubt a reaction from studying James’s detestable features, and looked down at his hand with all the disgust he could muster.

“Potter,” he spat.

That earned him a slap upside the head, which he flinched away from. It didn’t hurt, but whenever Sirius touched him, it always managed to take him by surprise.

“Stop being such a little prick,” Sirius snapped. “These are my friends.”

Friends. Sirius’s ‘friends’ were half-bloods and blood traitors, and Gryffindors at that. Regulus shouldn’t be seen with them. With any of them.

“I didn’t want to sit here,” he snarled at Sirius. “You made me.”

Something flickered over Sirius’s face then, and Regulus thought it might’ve been disappointment, or even guilt, but it was gone so quickly that he thought he must’ve imagined it.

“Oh, go on, piss off, then,” Sirius said coldly. “Dunno why I bothered.”

Something boiled in Regulus’s chest. Sirius had no right to hold his convictions against him. He was only trying to make their family proud, something Sirius had failed at over and over again. He thought about slapping him back, but quickly decided against it. He didn’t feel like getting into a fight. That would require yelling and hitting, both of which Regulus wanted to avoid. Instead he stood, storming out of the car and slamming the door behind him. He made his way down the corridor, realising he hadn’t bothered to grab his bag. He decided he’d just go back for it once they arrived at the castle.

“Regulus?”

He stopped short, turning to see his cousin, Narcissa Black, poking her head out of a compartment door. She’d curled the ends of her new, platinum-blonde hair, and her bright blue eyes were narrowed at him suspiciously.

“Can you not find a seat?” she frowned.

He shrugged noncommittally at his cousin, not really wanting to sit with her either. Not if she was all cozied up next to her boyfriend, Lucius Malfoy. He didn’t want to have to watch them stick their tongues down each other’s throats, which he’d already seen plenty of at Bellatrix’s wedding.

“Come,” she beckoned to him.

He clenched his jaw in silent retaliation, but still did as he was told, walking toward the compartment timidly and pausing at the door. Thankfully, his sister was not with Lucius Malfoy, but with two other Slytherin girls, who smiled at Regulus fondly. They all wore the same silvery pin on their robes, encrusted with a ‘P’ for prefect. He’d almost forgotten that Narcissa had gotten the position, but now recalled how she’d offhandedly mentioned it at the wedding. She seemed quite proud of herself when she said it, but was quickly brushed aside without so much as a single voice of praise. Regulus had wanted to say something to her about it, but never got the chance.

“This is my cousin, Regulus,” Narcissa introduced. “It’s his first year at Hogwarts.”

“Hello,” he greeted them shyly.

“Wait,” one of the girls gasped, “Isn’t he the brother of your other cousin? The one who got into Gryffindor?”

Regulus flushed with shame, his eyes darting away from the girls as he grimaced. Apparently, Sirius had already formed a reputation at Hogwarts, which would no doubt only hurt Regulus’s image further. He wished his brother would just shut up and blend in for once.

Narcissa rolled her eyes. “Ugh, please don’t bring up Sirius. He’s such a disappointment. Don’t worry though. Regulus is nothing like him. Isn’t that right, Reg?”

Regulus hesitated for a second. He felt like saying it out loud would be wrong, like some sort of betrayal, so instead he just nodded curtly.

“See? He’ll end up in Slytherin for sure.”

Then Narcissa patted the seat beside her and Regulus obeyed, sitting down next to his cousin. The girls began to chat about their summer holiday, but Regulus didn’t feel inclined to join in. Instead he looked out the window, propping his head up on his hand like he’d done before, and as he watched the countryside whiz by, he couldn’t help but feel more out of place than ever.

* * *

When they finally arrived at Hogsmeade station, Regulus slumped back to his brother’s compartment, in search of his bag. When he made it to the door, he was surprised to find the seat was still occupied by none other than James Potter. He had kicked his feet up on the opposite bench and was sucking on a Liquorice wand contentedly. Regulus’s bag sat next to him, teetering dangerously on the edge of the cushioned seats. When he opened the door, James scrambled to his feet, pulling the candy from his lips as he gave the younger boy a once over.

“Er… Regulus. Right,” he said. He grabbed the strap of Regulus’s bag and offered it to him with a smile. “I figured you might come back for it.”

Regulus snatched it from him, carefully keeping his distance from the older boy.

“Didn’t steal anything, did you?” he snarled.

James frowned at him, shouldering his own bag. “No,” he replied indignantly.

“Good,” Regulus snapped. Then he rounded on his heel and began making his way off the train. He rummaged around in the bag, just to make sure that they really hadn’t stolen anything. It seemed everything was in its place, as far as he could tell, and he allowed himself a small sigh of relief. Down the platform, someone was calling first years, and he headed in that direction, stuffing his hands in his pockets as he went.

No one had told Regulus about the boat ride across the Black Lake. Unlike the other eager students, who awed at the reflection of the glowing castle, Regulus felt a wave of uneasiness wash over him. He studied the dark water warily as the students were called into the boats, but it wasn’t like he had much choice in the matter. He took a deep breath before stepping inside and taking a seat, staring contentedly at his feet for the duration of the trip. He wondered if Sirius had conveniently forgotten to mention the lake to him, or whether he was indulging in the slow torture Regulus was currently experiencing. The trip couldn’t have lasted more than ten minutes, but to Regulus, it felt like it’d taken ages.

Then came the even harder part: the sorting.

Regulus was too apprehensive from the boat ride - and too concerned about the sorting - to care much for the magical ceiling of the Great Hall, or the floating candles, or the intimidating row of teachers at the head of the room. He just wanted to get into Slytherin, please his parents, and get it over with. That would end up attracting the least attention possible. He just wanted to fit in, and as a pure-blood, and a Black, there was no better place than Slytherin.

As the first years made their way to the front of the hall, Regulus spotted Sirius sitting at the Gryffindor table. Their eyes met briefly, but Regulus quickly glanced away, not wanting to think about what would happen if he ended up like his older brother. He could only imagine what his parents would say - or do - none of which was pleasant.

He was at least thankful that his last name started with a ‘B.’ That meant he got to be one of the first ones to go, which was better than anxiously waiting for his turn. Still, he felt his heart drop into his chest when his name was finally called. He slowly made his way to the stool, sitting on it and placing the hat on his head. It covered his eyes and most of his nose, and he jumped when a small voice spoke in his ear.

“Interesting,” it said softly. “Another Black .”

Oh Merlin, Regulus thought, Please let me be in Slytherin.

“You want to be in Slytherin?” the hat asked, though it didn’t seem all that surprised. “Are you sure? You have plenty of courage; intellect too. Not to mention your determination...”

Yeah, determination to be in Slytherin, Regulus thought sarcastically.

If the hat could laugh, Regulus thought it might’ve, because when it spoke again, it sounded exceedingly amused.

“How very resourceful of you,” it said gleefully. “Have it your way... SLYTHERIN!”

Regulus felt an enormous wave of relief crash over him, and he took the hat off, placing it back on the stool as he looked toward the uproarious table on the far right side of the room. Narcissa was smirking at him, her eyes twinkling with pride. He felt a surge of satisfaction then, and made his way to the table, his peers shaking his hand excitedly.

Suddenly, a boy with greasy black hair and a long, pointy nose patted him on the back. “Lucky you’re not a foul git like your brother, eh Black?”

Regulus felt a hot sear of anger flash through him, and he had the overwhelming urge to break the boy’s already ugly looking nose. He shoved the feeling down, however, as he always did, instead following the boy’s gaze over to the Gryffindor table. His eyes landed on Sirius, who was staring directly at him. His expression was unreadable, but there was something heavy in his gaze. After a second, Sirius looked away, his long hair falling into his face as he turned towards James to say something.

Regulus watched them for a moment before Narcissa grabbed his shoulders and smothered him in a hug. He cringed, trying to squeeze out of it, but she was a lot stronger than he was. Finally, she pulled away.

“Our family is going to be so proud, Regulus!” she beamed, elated. “I can’t wait to show you everything! You’re going to love our common room.”

Regulus only smiled, too taken aback to say anything. He rarely ever got hugs, especially not from his family, but he had to admit she seemed freer here; happy even. Possibly more exuberant than Regulus had ever seen her at home. She sat him down beside her, and the sorting continued. He attempted to catch Sirius’s eye again, but his brother didn’t so much as glance in his direction for the rest of the ceremony.

The feast was a welcome distraction from this, however, and Regulus indulged himself in the wide selection of foods. He never got to choose what he ate at home, so this small freedom was a welcome one. Then, when dessert came, he regretted filling his plate so much, thinking he might combust if he had one more bite.

“But you barely had anything!” Narcissa exclaimed as she offered him a platter of chocolate eclairs.

Regulus only shook his head, nauseated just by the thought of taking one. His cousin shrugged, picking out one for herself and lowering it onto her plate.

The greasy haired boy had introduced himself as Severus Snape, and the boy to his left was Garrick Mulciber. To Regulus, they both seemed frightfully impertinent, but Narcissa talked to them conversationally, smiling wickedly whenever they began to complain about the other houses. Severus brought up a group called ‘the marauders’ once or twice, but Regulus wasn’t curious enough to listen to his pompous complaints. Instead, he chatted with the first year who’d sat down next to him, a freckled boy named Bartemius Crouch.

“They just call me Barty though,” he told Regulus through a spoonful of pudding. “I’m jealous. Regulus sounds much smarter.”

“Well, thanks,” Regulus said with a small smile. “I think Barty is alright.”

Barty let out a sharp laugh in response. “Yeah, right,” he said sarcastically, grinning as he took another helping of pudding.

Regulus smirked and shrugged. “Actually, I think Sirius has the coolest-”

“For Salazar’s sake, please don’t bring him up,” Narcissa interjected. “You’ll only make things worse for yourself.”

Regulus glanced over at her, wondering if she was joking, only to be met with a look of genuine aversion. He blinked at her for a moment before turning his gaze toward his crumb filled plate. Suddenly, he felt quite bad for his older brother. Sure, he had a knack for trouble and a flair for rebellion, and he did bring quite a mess to their family name, but he was still Sirius. He was still their family.

Narcissa seemed to notice his dejection and let out an annoyed sigh. “Don’t you remember what happened with Andromeda?” she asked tightly.

Regulus jerked his head up to look at her. He didn’t need reminding.

[hydrangeasimagination]

Clean

Kiyoi AU - An alternate to Mitsu of the All Smite Universe if they’d end up in the clutches of Overhaul.

Pairing: Husband! Chisaki Kai / Overhaul X Gender Neutral! Reader

Summary: After a business meeting; Overhaul rejoins you, his dear spouse, in your shared room. Just to get away from the parasites that plague his everyday. You were perfect. Clean. A welcome escape he indulges in whenever he can.

Warning(s): Underage Reader. Forced Feminization. Forced Marriage. Toxic Relationship. Suggestive Themes.

A/N: ... Okay, this is dark as hell. An idea I ran by @starchaser-the-prophet​​ and went through with because the idea itself made me interested to explore. First of all, this is another version of Mitsu. Where in which their birth parents ended up selling them to Overhaul, who is just as intrigued in their quirk as he does in the OG.

This is not canon.

This is a hypothetical.

What would happen if he was the candidate for the quirk marriage and succeeded in wedding them before they ran into Smite. Either way, this relationship is terribly unhealthy and illegal.

This version is nicknamed by Overhaul himself.

Their nickname is “Kiyoi” which means “noble”... And “pure”.

I also did art for this with Prophet’s version of them.

Viewer Discretion is Advised: Please Heed My Warnings

"Angel."

The term of endearment flooded the nearly empty room, coupled with the unattractive creaking of the door. It was actually cringe worthy, annoying, and in clear need of fixing. Sight of the dimly lit space was also slightly straining to the eyes, much to the doctor's dismay.

Brows pulled together just slightly in disapproval, Overhaul allowed himself to get used to the change in lighting. The door swinging shut behind him.

Gaze flickering around the space, he paused mid-step in his search of the space when the sound of water met his ears.

Along with the radio spilling the drivel of that pro hero, Present Mic. "This next song is an oldie but a goodie, an song straight from the states! This is "Tonight You Belong to Me" by Patience and Prudence!!"

The notes of an piano along with a snare of a light drum, upbeat and bright. He feels his shoulders fall just slightly, though his expression remained.

"i know, you belong to somebody new...

but tonight, you belong to me..."

A moment passed before the water shut off, the click of the radio switching off following. He turned his head towards the bathroom door just as a slight fog of steam billowed out.

"Kai...?"

Overhaul preens at the call of his given name, pleased to hear it after being around filth and incompetent beings with no business living or breathing the same air. It leaves him with a pleasant warmth crawling under his skin, gaze falling upon the figure slipping from the bathroom.

Cheeks flushed from the shower, a pure white towel pillowing against slightly wet skin, still weighed down with water. Eyes peering innocently at him betwixt fluttering lashes.

You were a welcome escape from the monotony.

A clean escape.

A polished diamond among coal.

"Kiyoi, angel..." He nearly crooned, finding satisfaction how two simple words made goosebumps break across your flawless skin.

How you flustered so quickly at his very presence, turning into a mess under his attention.

So sweet and so pure.

Like your namesake.

Slowly, he seats himself on the couch, lifting a gloved hand and holding it out. There was no need to speak, as you hung the towel to dry and rushed over him. It was amusing how eager you were to sit with him or rather, on him.

Drinking in how the pencil skirt stretched over the plush of your thighs, he shifted as you settled one of his. The light sheen of stockings on your soft skin elicited a low noise from his throat, pleased to see in the items he'd chosen for you. Reclining slowly into the leather couch, the man relaxed.

With a half nod given, arms snaked around the back of his head. He leaned forward just so to allow you the space, hooded gaze crossing your's.

"How was your day?" The soft inquiry came, the mask around his head loosening under nimble hands.

A low sigh slipped from between his lips once he breathed in the filtered air, lavender clinging to your clean scent. His own hand grazed over the fabric of the sweater, settling upon the curve of your hip and carefully drew you against him.

"Exhausting." His fingertips delicately slid over the dip of your waist, serving to only pull you even closer to him. "Being surrounded by those uncouth businessmen put me in a bad mood."

Nose carefully nuzzling against the side of your head, greedily taking in the sweet smell with fervor. His hold tightened when you shuddered, warming up under his touch and stare.

"Make me feel better, won't you, angel?"

Kai's eyes lingered upon the plush of your lips giving as you pursed them, how you leaned against him. Baring his neck to you with purpose.

Taking notice of your hesitation, the flush dusting over the bridge of your nose, he has to resist smiling.

You should be honored.

You likely were.

He doesn't show weakness so openly or often, nor give affection in this manner.

He is very aware of how enticed you are by his looks.

"Don't make me wait."

How you traced the pads of your digits up along the fabric of his dress shirt send a thrill through him, nervously tugging at the tie wrapped tight against his throat.

It was almost uncomfortable.

But it didn't last as the knot loosened, becoming undone almost agonizingly slow.

Were you teasing him?

Turning his head just so, he could smell the mint on your breath. How it ghosted over his lips in the most tantalizing of ways as he focused on the pretty darkening of your cheeks.

Kissing you was something he barely does, but he'd be lying if he didn't enjoy it.

Closer and closer he came.

Almost.

So terribly close.

"Boss."

A throb settled in the back of his skull, the beginnings of a headache. Suppressing the snarl that threatened to rise in his throat, your head dropped onto his shoulder with a long exhale. He grunted as he feels the arm draped around him settle on his hip, goose-flesh rushing over his body when your soft lips touched the side of his neck

Only to mumble against his feverish skin, "Duty calls."

Chisaki sighed, still holding you.

"Come in."

The door swung in and Kai fixed Chrono with a stare that could freeze blood, but he just bowed his head. He knew better than to interrupt if it was something poultry.

Leaning his body against the leather cushions, he drawled, "What is it?"

"Bubaigawara Jin and Toga Himiko have arrived."

He breathed lowly out of his nose, eyes shutting for a moment to quell the pain drumming in his brain. With a light squeeze, he'd finally let go.

"Tell them to wait another minute."

Reknotting his tie, he flicked his fingers to shoo his right hand from the room. As the door clicked shut, he peered down at you, almost contrite. Tenderly, his fingers trace over your cheekbone.

His voice dropped, just low enough for you to hear.

"I'm sorry Angel."

Turning your head, your lips touched the tips of his gloved fingers.

The sweet call of them begged him kiss them especially as you spoke, "You're busy. I understand."

Overhaul swiped his hand under your chin, tilting your head back. Your legs buckle and the corners of his lips drag into that devilish smile that never failed to make your heart race...

Though not in the way one would be with one's spouse.

With the quickening of your pulse, it was unmistakable.

That fear mixed with want to please him.

Good.

He didn't want you getting too full of yourself.

He loved you, naturally.

But if he didn't teach you, you'd never learn.

"I am forever blessed." He sighed, brushing his nose over your's.

"K - Kai..." The quaver of your tone made a pleasantness crawl under his skin.

Gold irises glimmered as he watched tears flood those pretty eyes he adored. Stroking his finger under your chin, he listened to your breath hitch.

He was so close.

Tightly squeezing you to his chest, he purred, "Remember Angel, I own you."

You only trembled.

A quivering whimper escaped as he kissed you, as he was dying to do. The gentle jingle of the chain around your neck made him smile, sighing at the taste of mouthwash lingering behind.

He felt you shake.

Adorable.

He supposed he himself was lucky.

You were clean.

So perfect and compliant.

His.

If he'd have to tear you apart to keep you, he would.

But he knew you'd stay.

You didn't have a choice.

[thewhiterabbit42]

Wicked Games

Pairing: Gabriel x reader

Series Summary:  When a trickster seeks revenge on Gabriel, he traps the archangel in a sex dungeon with the person he despises the most: you.  

Word Count:  3432

Chapter tags/warnings: swearing, people being dicks

Series tags/warnings (as it stands): dark fic, medium burn, kidnapping, sex dungeon, mutual pining, enemies to lovers, violence, graphic depictions of horror, dub con, non con, oral sex, it’s a sex dungeon so likely all the sex, confessed feelings, bondage, more tba

A/N: This is a dark fic.  Please read all tags/warnings carefully.  Big thanks to my beta and @starchaser-the-prophet for taking a peek at this!

Based off the following request by @inuhimesblog

Part 2

“Seriously?  You’re going to leave me with her?”  Gabriel’s disdain is palpable, overflowing from his features and spiraling out into the space surrounding him.  

You try not to take it personally.  You’d hate feeling leashed too, if you were an ancient being whose entire existence consisted of being top of the food chain, and you imagine it especially hits a nerve given how he’s spent the last seven years.  

“If you didn’t want a chaperone, then maybe you should have stayed put for the five minutes we told you to, instead of inviting a bunch of your old friends over for tea and almost getting us all killed!”  Dean insists.

“How was I supposed to know they were on Loki’s side?”  Gabriel demands.

You can see the way betrayal sparks bright behind gold, another heavy blow to an ego that, by all accounts, should be shredded beyond recognition.  Maybe it is, but even you have difficulty discerning when he insists on being such an ass about everything.

"Because all gods are a bunch of backstabbing assholes?" Dean guesses.  He’s just as sardonic and pissy as the archangel is these days, so much so, you can’t stand being in the same room with them.

"They're not gods," Gabriel says flatly.  "They're maenads."  

"I don’t really care what they are," Dean retorts, gesturing to dismembered corpses strewn along the floor.  "Demi-God, god, trickster, whatever.  The name changes, the song stays the same.    You can't trust any of them!"

If eye rolling were an Olympic event, the archangel would take home the gold.  He folds his arms over his chest, his entire upper body getting into the movement.  His head drops back and the look on his face suggests even Heaven can’t help him as his weight shifts between feet.

You can't blame him.  The entire situation screams power move by Dean.  As much as you don’t agree with it, you’re not really in a position to either challenge or refuse him, and you suspect the current predicament is as much a means to keep you in line as it is Gabriel.

"Look," Sam steps into the fray, trying to be the voice of reason in this whole mess.  "We need you, and, like it or not, you need us."

Short, sweet, to the point, and more importantly, accurate.

"And if there are more of these things out there," he looks down at the bodies at his feet.  "Then it sounds like you could use someone to help watch your back."

Gabriel's glare swings toward him, skepticism bubbling through the surface of his anger.

“And I don’t know what you’re complaining about, because she’s the one that dropped those things, not us,” Sam adds, a touch of attitude broaching his tone to drive his point home.  

While you appreciate the reminder, it’s not as if the archangel wasn’t there, moving perfectly in tandem with you.  Somehow, you make a great team, despite how roughly things go when there isn’t a common enemy you want to murder instead of each other.  

As Gabriel’s scathing stare slides in your direction, you feel another layer of your patience peel away.  You’re not thrilled with the situation anymore than he is, but then again, when has he ever been thrilled to see you?

That’s not entirely true.  There was a time he was playful and cheeky, where he used to call you endearing nicknames that drove Dean insane.  Even if they weren’t really for your benefit, it had been nice to pretend someone might want to call you those things.

Now, he calls you the littlest Winchester, despite the fact you are not related to the infamous brothers, and he treats you no differently than if you were one of them, which most days means you catch a whole lot of flak for things you’ve never done.  

You recognize it’s a defense mechanism.  He’s been through so much between his family, Loki, and Asmodeus, though it’s hard to remember that when you’re dragged into the latest pissing match, and he acts like the whole thing is your idea.

“Yeah, well, you’re not exactly my idea of a good time either,” you mutter, your irritation getting the better of you.  

You miss the way something shifts in his features, eating away at the hardness around the edge of gold as you glance back to the brothers and add, “And if I’m delegated to playing nursemaid to that one,” you jam your thumb toward the surly archangel, “Then you two are on cleanup duty.”

Dean makes a face, looking down at the collection of limbs on the floor.  Surprisingly, he doesn't argue.  "Sam, get some trash bags from the trunk.  The industrial ones."  

As if he has to specify you need the body-sized ones.  

“And my bag please,” you ask.  

Sam nods, slipping out the door without another word.  

There’s an extra tension in the room whenever it’s just the three of you.  You used to be the one to manage it, the one who could smooth things over whenever the two of them locked horns, but now you’re just as at odds with them as they are with each other.

It doesn’t feel right.  None of it does.  The bitterness.  The constant fighting.  Only you don’t know what to do about it anymore.  

"C'mon, grumbles, let's get your mess cleaned up,” Dean orders, toeing what might be part of an arm with the edge of his boot.

Gabriel is not pleased to be on the receiving end of a nickname, face pulling into a sardonic smile that borders on murder. Before he can zing anything back in the hunter’s direction, the door swings back open and Sam walks in, supplies (which wisely includes a tarp and some heavy duty rubber gloves) in hand.  

"Notice I said you two."  You gesture between the brothers, murmuring a thanks to Sam as he hands you your bag.  

"What do you plan to do?  Supervise?"  Dean’s in rare form, and there’s a thinly veiled accusation simmering beneath green that you can’t touch right now.  

“You think those claw marks are going to stitch themselves?”  You question, gesturing toward the Gabriel’s shredded leg.  From the amount of blood and nearly black stain on his pants, you’re certain he’s only alive because he can’t technically die from bleeding out.  

You reach into your satchel and pull out your modified first aid kit.  It has the basic supplies, the biggest difference being the amount of gauze and bandaging included (for those archangel sized wounds) and some herbal components that stimulate grace regeneration.    

You move a chair next to the dresser in front of what might be the only clean section of carpet left.    

"Drop the jeans,” you order, patting the back of the chair with invitation as you begin to lay out what you’ll need.  

There's a brief moment where the Gabriel you knew flits to the surface.  "Here?  In front of everyone?  Kinky."

You almost smile.  Almost.  Because one light moment isn't even close to being a bandaid on your relationship.  No matter how much you'd like it to be.  

Especially when he follows it up with another blow.

"But I think I'll pass on being the guinea pig to your Dr. Doolittle and take care of myself, thanks."  He holds out his hand expectantly, and it takes a concerted effort not to smack him upside the head with the supplies.  

You settle for shoving them directly at his chest.

“Well if nobody needs me, I need some air.”

“They need you,” Dean gestures to the body’s on the floor.  “Us, right here?”  He swings his finger between himself and Sam.  “We need you,” he says pointedly as you pass right by him.  “Hey!”

Your instincts flare as he moves toward you, and there’s a visceral jolt through your chest that prepares you to react.  Sam intervenes before you get the chance, tall frame stepping between you as he puts a hand on his brother’s chest.  

“Dean.”  

You don’t care what look is burning into your back right now.  You’ve spent the last two days trapped in a car with a volatile version of Dean who reminds you of something you spend most of your time desperately trying to forget ever existed.  

“Let her go.”  

Dean doesn’t fight him, and the slam of the door is your final contribution to the conversation before you take off across the parking lot.

***

You should have kept walking.  Doubled back to the highway.  Hitched a ride in any direction, so long as it was away from there.  Away from him.

Gabriel’s camped out on the floor, leaning against the foot of the bed.  Instead of watching TV or playing on his phone like any normal being would, he’s bouncing a baseball against the wall with a persistent ker-thunk.  

It’s the same motion over and over: off the thin carpet, against the same dingy spot parallel to the dresser, pausing just long enough to make you wonder if he’s finally done, before starting all over again.  

Good god it’s annoying.  How did you ever put up with him?

Only you know how.  

Before, he was smooth.  He knew how to lay on the charm and flatter his way into good graces.  He used to be like Cas; beneath that outer surface lay something soft and warm, though instead of a rough veneer, it was the guise of detached hedonism.  

But now he’s all pointed barbs and caustic sarcasm, and it rubs you so raw that you have little patience left to weather the truly obnoxious moments anymore.

“Drama queen, much?”  You finally snap.  You’re young, but the reference isn’t lost on you, and as much as he wants to act like he’s imprisoned, he has far more ways to escape this hole in the wall than you ever will.  

Ker-thunk.  “Better than being a lap dog.”  

He doesn’t miss a beat, and this remark hits harder than you expect.  You’re not certain if it’s the connotation or the sheer acidity behind it, but he’s never this mean-spirited with you.

You breath in.  

Ker-thunk.  

Then out.  

Ker-thunk.

And in.

Ker-thunk.

Reminding yourself - ker-thunk - of all - ker-thunk - the horrible things - ker-thunk - he’s been through - ker-thunk - and how they - ker-thunk - change a person - ker-thunk.

Ker-thunk.

Ker-thunk.

Ker-  

You grip the edges of your lorebook so hard you’re convinced you’re fingerprints are going to sear straight into the leather binding.  

“Just because you’ve been dealt a shitty hand doesn’t give you the right to be a dick to the rest of us.”  

Not exactly where you’d hoped to land, but between him and Dean, the well you maintain to stay diplomatic in these situations has run so dry it’s going to take some biblical sized relationship repairs raining down on you to fill that sucker back up.  

Silence falls and you’re given a moment of reprieve.

Literally, one.  

“I’m the dick in this situation?”  His head whips around so fast it reminds you of the movie The Exorcist.  “Tell me, which one of us is on a leash right now, and which one is holding it?”

Right.  Because it’s your fault he goes into situations half-cocked, low on energy, without any backup, nearly gets himself killed, and pisses off the only allies he may have left.  

“Door’s open, don’t let it hit your ass on the way out.”

There’s a window in the bathroom you’re happy to shove him out of as well, but you decide to keep that suggestion to yourself in an attempt to keep things marginally civil.  

You get up from your chair and toss your book aside, in need of another way to decompress.  Despite the fact it’s not even noon, you head toward the mini-fridge, which is stock full of your maladaptive coping mechanism of choice.  

The moment Gabriel sees you pull out a beer, he lets out a scornful snort.  "Have another one, Winchester."

His insult hits a target dead center, though it’s not the one he’s aiming for.  Instead of slamming your integrity or moral turpitude, or whatever the shit he thinks he’s poking at, you feel cut off at the knees.

You’re not a Winchester, and it’s not that you want to be one so much as know you never can that makes this a particularly sore spot for you.

The reminder is draining, because it’s always there, hanging over your head, and you’re as sick of it as being caught in a game of Tug of War between two equally stubborn individuals.

“Can we do something other than argue for once?”  Exasperation softens the sharpness in your tone as you sit on the edge of the dresser.  

You hold the beer in your hands, focusing on the cold against your palms and the dampness that forms against the warmth of your skin.

He considers your question, absent-mindedly tossing the ball up in his hand.  “We could always play a game.”  

For a moment, he almost looks like himself again, mischief sparking, shaking off the varnish within gold.  His lips twitch as if attempting to smile, but they're heavy, immobile, and another indication of just how much has changed.

Part of you wants to humor him for the sake of keeping this tenuous break, but the rest of you is pretty god damn tired of being someone else’s punching bag.

“I have a novel idea,” you begin, leaning forward and resting your elbows on your legs.  

He deflates, dour demeanor returning.  “Oh, this should be good…”

You regret saying anything, but as with most things in your life, it’s too late to go back.  You run your thumb along the condensation of the bottle, tongue darting out across your lips as you prepare yourself for whatever comes next.  

“Why don’t we do something productive like, I dunno, talk about the group of deities out for your blood?”  You’re careful not to sound too concerned.  Doing so gets you batted at faster than a feral cat who’s cornered.  

“Yeah.  Real fun topic to be revisiting.”  

It’s still the least combative response you’ve received recently, and it gives you some hope you might be able to reason with him.

“Gabriel, if I’m going to be sitting next to someone with a giant target on their back, I’d like to know what it is my enemy might be firing so I can do something about it.”  

That, and you’d really like to avoid becoming a smear on the wall.  

“Don’t worry, sweetheart, there’s nothing coming but a whole lotta blanks.”

You’re not sure what rankles you more: the insincere and wholly mocking term of endearment he throws at you that used to mean something, or how dismissive he is of the danger you’re both in.

“Why won’t you let anyone help you?”  

In the few moments he isn’t forcing you to see a spectrum of red that exists only in his presence, there are startling shades of deep blue that squeeze around your heart because you already know why.

Some part of that must show, his mood worsening exponentially.  "Maybe because I don’t need anyone’s help?  Especially yours."

And back to square one you go.

"You are the most frustrating man I've ever met," you mutter, slamming the top of your beer down on the edge of the dresser and popping the cap off.  You bring the bottle to your lips and the bulk of the drink bypasses your tastebuds, pouring straight down your throat.

“Seems unlikely, given your Winchester worshipping status, but you’re no walk in the park either, toots.”

You glare at him, wondering just how much trouble you’ll be in with said Winchesters if you decide to paint a banishing sigil on the other side of the bathroom door and blast the archangel’s insufferable ass into the next state.  

As if sensing the brewing mutiny, both your phones buzz, Dean’s contact flashing across both screens.  

Meet me at this address.  Important.  

Thank God, or the gods, or whatever was out there for small favors.  You need something to do other than go another ten rounds with each other.

“C’mon," you tell him, hopping back to your feet without a second thought.

“Really?”

Here it comes.  

You down the rest of your drink as he readies his next jab.

“What's up between you and the lumberjack?”

You’d ask which one, but the question is so ridiculous you can’t do anything except blink. “Excuse me?”

Is he implying… what the hell is he implying?

“Every time he says jump you ask how high without a second thought, but here you are, all up on my lamp post about not knowing what you’re walking into.”

There are differences between him and Dean.  Big ones.  Ones he should be able to grasp, but you don’t trust him to, and if there’s anything you’ve learned with either of them it’s that sometimes it’s just easier to deal with things on your own.

"There's nothing going on."

Your quick dismissal only has the archangel's stare narrowing.

"Does he have something on you?"

“Jesus christ, Gabriel, can we argue about this in the car?”   You’d prefer not to argue at all, but getting him out the door is now your number one priority, and you have a feeling this is going to be worse than the time Dean left you with that toddler from Hell.  Literally, a demon hiding in a three year old’s body that knew how to push every one of your buttons so you’d overlook the fact it couldn’t cross the line of salt in the doorway, rather than wouldn’t.  

“I’m being serious,” he says grabbing you by the arm as you try to pass.  The contact startles you, as does the admission that follows.  “I know I've been kind of an douche lately --”

“Kind of?”  

He ignores your knee-jerk response.  “The point is, you can talk to me."

That might be the funniest thing he’s said all day.  

You snort.  "Good one."

“I’m serious.”  He pins you beneath a sober stare, one noticeably lacking a scathing edge.

You’re not certain what to do with that.  

“He doesn’t have anything on me, alright?” You sigh.  “Now can we please go?”

He eyes you even more intently before his features abruptly harden again.  “Don’t tell me you’re in love with him.”

You decide not to justify that with a response.  Not a verbal one anyway.  You hope the middle finger you raise in his direction as you try to head to the door is a clear enough indication of where you stand on the matter.  

As usual, the idiot-savant in him has already made up his mind on the matter.  

“Oh for shit’s sake, you are.”  He grabs you by the wrist, stopping you in your tracks, and you’re too busy trying not to scream to notice the myriad of emotions that flash through his gaze.  “Seriously?  Since when did you become deaf, blind, and dumb?”

He's so far from the truth it should be laughable.  Except it isn’t, because it’s him, and you’re over this conversation.

“Since when did it become any of your business who the fuck I’m interested in?”  You yank out of his grip, shoving him out of your space.  “Don't act like you care about me or anything other than playing Uma Thurman in your little Kill Bill revenge fantasy."  

Gabriel freezes, surprised by the sudden burst of hostility from you.  

"Now you can either get in the car, stay here, or fuck off to Fiji for all I care, but I am leaving," you snarl before storming out of the room.

You didn't sign up for this.  He and Dean can sort it out between themselves if they're going to insist on being self-centered pricks the entire time.  You just want to wake up one morning and feel like you’re worth something again, something no one else seems inclined to let you do.

Before you even make it to the vehicle, Gabriel’s there, waiting for you in the passenger seat.  You’re relieved and annoyed.  You need a break, but despite that, you know this is far, far better than facing an irate Dean.  

Mostly.  It really depends on how much trouble either of your mouths can get into.

The answer is potentially plenty once you plug the address into your phone’s GPS and realize you have a forty-five minute drive into the middle of nowhere ahead of you.  

You take a deep breath, managing not to wrench open the car door.  There are far worse things you’ve endured.  How bad could one car ride turn out?

Part 2 >>

ALL the tags

@girl-next-door-writes @blondecoffeecake @room-with-a-cat @nobodys-baby-now @lucifer-in-leather @crashdevlin @idabbleincrazy @lovelyhexbag @megasimpleplan4ever @brokencasbutt67-writer @mrswhozeewhatsis @ourloveisforthelovely @copperseraphim @ladyofletters67 @azlinh @authoressskr @bofa-deans-nuts @phantomwarrior12 @karichanarts @archangelgabriellives @mizzezm @curious-trickster @tardis-is-mine @archangelashiah @katekvnes @datajana @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @marichromatic​ @falcatrecon​ @flufy07​ @alisoncdariel @angelofwinchester17 @feelmyroarrrr​

Gabe Squad (Gabriel)  

@disneymarina​ @starchaser-the-prophet​ @bloodstained-porcelain-doll​ @the-kryomancer​ @supernaturalways​ @erisunderthemoon​ @hankypranky​ @fruitypieq​ @missihart23​ @a-wing-and-a-pen​ @waywardspringchild​ @luciferseclipse​ @greeneyedtrickster​ @fand0maniac​ @gabegirrl86​

[tharroswrites]

Swords and Strawberries and the Sea

Request #1: A Kacchako Pirate AU for Anon!

"I'm telling you, Cap, the crystal sword's in Moonstone Bay."

It was the third time they'd had this conversation since leaving port that morning and King was irritated.

He stood at the helm of his ship with Kirishima, his first mate and navigator, looking down at the map spread out on the gleaming deck of his ship, the Mightian.

"Why else would the Starchaser be heading through the sirens' nest?" Kirishima continued, pointing at the narrow, monster-ridden pass that led off the sea and into Moonstone Bay. "We're just lucky Queen and her crew didn't figure it out while we were stuck making repairs. Thank goodness for that Hatsume woman or we'd still be—"

"Shut up for a minute, shitty hair," King growled, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes against the blinding light of the noonday sun glittering off the sea.

It was hot, and most of the crew had stripped down to little more than vests and loose pants. Even King had succumbed and unbuttoned his tunic, sweat rolling down his back and between his eyebrows as he weighed his options. A warm, heavy breeze from the south carried with it the smell of a storm, which meant they were getting close to their destination. He would have to make a decision soon.

The crystal sword—a mythic weapon said to drink the blood of those it slays and heal the wielder accordingly—was rumored to have reappeared after centuries lost to the deep, but the location was unclear—he who found it had to prove himself worthy of the honor.

He. Or she.

And she was after it too, the bane of his existence, the rival that had wrecked his ship halfway to hell and forced him into that backwater trash of a port they'd been forced to stay in for the previous month. He would never get the reek of the place out of his clothes.

He could still see that wild gleam in her eyes, barely visible under the dark hood she wore and over the mask that obscured the lower half of her face—tricks and lies and secrecy, that was how she won fights, how she'd made a name for herself among the pirate lords. Queen, she called herself, like a jab at the name he'd used since childhood. Her eyes had mocked him from the deck of her ship as cannon fire echoed across the open water between them. The horrible, resounding crunch as her mermaid friends managed to rock his ship at the last second—his cannonballs soaring harmlessly over her ship while hers thudded into the base of his would ring in his ears for a long ass time.

And now, if Tokoyami's crows were correct, Queen and the Starchaser were making their way to Moonstone Bay.

Fuck.

"I can see the Thundering Strait!" Kaminari's voice rang down from his perch high above the deck, and he slid down the mast, landing hard on the polished wood. He stumbled to the south-facing starboard rail of the ship next to King's place at the helm. "We're getting close, Cap!"

The familiar scent of burnt hair wafted off Kaminari with the wind, and he grinned manically at King and Kirishima. He was missing both eyebrows and his clothes were black and singed at the edges—too many run-ins with lightning while at sea, but his yellow eyes were bright with anticipation—an addict waiting for the next hit.

"The place of never-ending storms," the lookout continued wistfully. He clenched his hands into fists in front of him. "We're taking that route, right Cap?"

"Don't look so excited, moron."

"We haven't decided yet," Kirishima answered. "It's a gamble either way."

Kaminari hopped up the steps to the helm and leaned lazily across the wheel. "You're not seriously considering the sirens' nest? We'd be dead before we even catch up to the Starchaser. Not to mention Queen's crew is...better equipped to deal with the threat."

"We'd be fucking fine," King spat, stomping down to the main deck and looking back up at them. "But we've got a better shot of actually getting there first if we take the Strait. So head that way, Kirishima."

Kirishima looked like he wanted to argue, but saluted and turned them further south, Kaminari letting out a "Hell yes!" beside him.

Rolling his eyes, King slammed through the door beneath them and into the humid shade of the cargo hold. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dim lighting, and the movement at the edge of his vision didn't register until his sword was yanked out of his belt and pressed hard into his neck.

"Scream and you're dead, Pirate King." The voice was low, rough, and distinctly feminine, right in his ear, and the hand that twisted in the back of his sweaty tunic was strong and unrelenting.

"Tch," said King, though he didn't move. "I don't scream."

"Mm, we'll see about that."

"At least face me, coward." The iron of his sword was hot against the sensitive skin of his throat, and he felt the warm itch of blood running down onto his chest as she pressed harder on the blade.

Using his shirt for leverage, she spun him around, letting go of the back of it to grip the front instead, holding the unbuttoned sides together and pushing him back toward the wall. The sword was still at his throat, but it was her eyes in the dark that made his pulse spike.

They thundered like every storm he'd ever faced and burned like oil on the surface of the sea.

She was smaller than he would've guessed for her strength, standing almost a whole head shorter than he. Closer inspection revealed wiry muscle in her arms, a round, suntouched face—tan and freckled and pink high on her cheekbones, a thin white scar that ran from temple to chin and another, nastier scar that started at the base of her throat and slashed down her chest, between her breasts and below the wide neck of her shirt. She was dirty, but she smelled of salt and gunpowder and something...sweet—familiar and foreign all at once.

Her lips, full and pinked and chapped, were pulled back to bare small white teeth.

"If you're here from some shitty revenge because you think I killed your dad, or your boyfriend, or whatever, you should reconsider, round face," he said, his voice coming out bored and unconcerned. He met her glare and held it. "You'll be dead before we hit another port."

She growled, looking at him like a sword to the throat would be too merciful a death—he knew the look well. But there was something so familiar about her eyes. Had she worked at the inn they'd stayed in at port? Had she been one of that manic shipwright's assistants?

"Revenge isn't the right word, king," she said, pressing her knuckles hard into his chest. "Though I'm sure you deserve plenty of that, too."

"Then what the fuck are you doing here, round face? I don't have all day."

The corner of her mouth pulled down, bottom lip popping out in an almost imperceptible pout.

"You'll regret underestimating me," she said. "And not...looking—"

"I have to be alive to regret anything, shit-wit. But you don't seem so sure about killing me. So I'll say it one more fucking time—what are you doing here?"

She hesitated, only for a second, but was enough for King to get his hand between his neck and the blade, the metal slicing through his palm as he forced it away and wrapped his other hand around hers on the hilt.

It was an impasse.

He had greater physical strength, but she had the advantage of being able to slice his fingers clean off if he moved too suddenly, as he was still palming the bare blade less than an inch from his throat.

"I know what you're after and I'm here to make sure you can't get it for him," she answered, as if he hadn't just turned the tables on her at least a bit.

And who the fuck was 'him'?

King growled. "What's some piss-poor peasant like you know about me?"

A smile tilted across her mouth and sent a spark down his spine.

Who the fuck IS she?

"I know that you were nothing better than a 'piss-poor peasant' yourself, king," she said softly, her cheeks going red in spite of her confident tone. "I know you're looking for the same thing I am—something that will make you the best, indisputably. King in more than just name."

And suddenly, violently, like a cannonball splintering through his ribs, it clicked.

Memories chased each other through his mind, there one moment and replaced by another the next—his childhood, living in the streets of Musutafu, dirty and hungry and entirely alone. His parents were dead by the time he was five years old, and he'd learned the hard way that the other urchins had no time or place or need of him. He'd fended for himself, by himself, and never relied on the kindness of anyone else.

Then, when he was seven, she came along, twice as lonely and just as tough. She'd followed him for weeks, learning all his hard-earned tricks and secret places, never bothering to thank him or offer anything in return.

But slowly, without him realizing, she managed to weedle her way into his heart.

They were eight and sitting on a rooftop, arguing over who got the strawberry on the top of the pastry they'd worked together to steal. The obvious choice was to split it, but she'd snatched it and popped it into her mouth with a wicked grin as she savored it.

They were ten and sneaking into a circus that traveled through town, spreading out and picking pockets of the unsuspecting wealthy patrons. They spent some of the money on spun sugar, but she stashed the rest away—she was always saving extra for the younger, smaller, less fortunate kids they ran into in the streets. He'd never bothered to ask her why she even cared.

At eleven, she'd been caught stealing, and would've lost a finger if he hadn't shown up at exactly the right moment—some unknowable feeling pulling him to her even though they hadn't seen each other in weeks. Without thinking, he'd grabbed a rock and slammed it into the back of the guard's head, dragging her by the wrist and fleeing while the man was stunned. They'd run for what felt like hours, finally slipping into a small alcove, shimmying up the wooden fence, and hauling themselves up into the small haven created by connecting roofs—his most secret hiding place. They'd leaned against each other, quiet save for their ragged breathing. When he demanded her side of the story, she said she'd been going through the baker's garbage, looking for food for a young mother she'd found huddled in an alley earlier that day.

At fourteen, she'd shaved off all her hair and started binding her chest—looking more like a ten year old boy than the woman she was turning into. "It's safer," she'd said to him, her tone all business as she tucked the long knife she'd used on her head back into her belt. She'd smiled at him, then, "I'm trusting you not to tell anyone, 'kay King?"

King. An old nickname, and the only thing she'd ever called him. They'd made them up as kids, when they first discovered that their petty thieving worked better when each had someone watching the other's back. "What do I call you?" she'd asked, poking him in the cheek in a way that would've earned someone else a punch to the stomach. "King," he'd answered resolutely, crossing his arms. "I'm gonna call you Sweets." She'd laughed at that. "Sweets? Why?" "Because you like them too much, dummy. They make your face all pudgey and round."

It was about two weeks after she'd shaved her head that she'd disappeared, and a month spent searching the streets brought up nothing. Angry and frustrated for allowing himself to get attached to someone else, he'd taken work on the next ship that docked at the bustling port on the north side of the city, and never looked back. When they were attacked by pirates nearly a year later, he'd joined the ragtag group without a second thought.

Because always, both of them had dreamed of something better, bigger, more—a fool's dream, an urchin's hope, but both of them had always longed for the sea.

Now, at twenty-three, he was the most feared pirate west of the continent.

And he'd never stopped going by King.

"Sweets?" he breathed, blood from his hand dripping down the sword she still pressed against him.

Something in her eyes cracked as she smiled. "I haven't used that name in years. It seems to still be true though, if 'round face' is the first thing you go for."

"I thought you were dead." It was like something deep and buried was digging its way up through his heart.

She didn't remove the sword. "You underestimate me."

And maybe he had.

The ship rocked as the ocean beneath it became turbulent, and Sweets's brown eyes widened. "You chose the Strait?"

"What?"

"You dummy," she growled, removing the sword and dashing for the door.

Stunned for a moment, he stared after her. 'Chose the Strait'? Did she know the sword was in Moonstone Bay? Did she know what his options were?

"Wait!"

She didn't, and he followed after her.

The deck was in navigable chaos as the crew prepared to brave the eternal storm that guarded the second entrance to Moonstone Bay. Rain lashed at King's face and mixed with the blood on his hand and at his throat, but he hardly felt it as he watched her.

Sweets went mostly unnoticed as she charged across the deck and leaned out over the side of the ship. Her hair, long now and tied away from her face, was drenched in the time it took her to get there, but she grinned out at the thrashing sea. Something warm and aching burned in his chest at the sight—like the feeling he got when they finally made port at Yuuei after months away at a time. A sense of familiarity that didn't scare him, an attachment that had always echoed in the corners of his heart, no matter how he tried to suppress it.

"You're out of your mind, King," she said as he stood beside her. The ship pitched again, but they both held their footing. "I thought for sure you'd follow me through the sirens' nest."

Like a bolt of lightning through the mast, it all clicked again.

"You're Queen."

She smiled, a bright and blazing thing that sang of pocket change and spun sugar and racing across rooftops, of close calls and hungry bellies and angry tears and home. Or the closest thing to it he'd known.

"You're hunting the crystal sword," he continued, the rain and the sea soaking through him, making the deck slick beneath his feet. "And you snuck onto my boat to what? Kill me?"

She gripped the side of the boat, scanning the water below like she was looking for something. "There are rumors that the All for One is hunting the sword too. I couldn't let that happen—not after the Decayer and his cronies razed the slums of Musutafu. They want the sword for...for evil."

"You don't think we're evil?" he snorted, ignoring the shouts of his crew behind him as they struggled to keep the ship steady.

Her eyes reflected the rumbling clouds above them, rain running dirty tracks down her cheeks. "That's a conversation to be had in some tavern somewhere," she said, almost wistfully as the sky flashed and lit up her new and familiar features. "With ale and food and time. And as for trying to kill you...there were rumors that the Decayer was controlling you. I couldn't...I had to see for myself."

"Tch. Like I'd let some weak-ass tell me what to do."

The boat tilted again and she climbed up on the side, holding onto part of the rigging to keep her footing.

"The fuck are you doing, Sweets?"

"Snatching the strawberry from under your nose, King," she gave him one last look—a challenge glinting in her eyes like the intervening years had been nothing but a clap of thunder. "Catch me if you can."

And she dove off the side of the ship and into the swirling sea below.

"Oy!" King leaned over the rail, ready to fling himself after her idiot ass, but then he saw her, hanging on the back of a dark-haired mermaid and laughing like a fool as they swam away—off in the direction of the sirens' nest to the north.

"You owe me for wrecking my boat!" he shouted after her, thinking his voice was lost amid the storm.

Faintly, though, he heard her calling back, "That was for not finding me sooner, King!"

And damn it all, he'd never underestimate her again.

[iwriteasfotini]

Jegulus Excerpt

In honor of Jegulus day, I’m breaking my own rule and revealing something earlier than scheduled.

My whole series is based off some interesting astrological facts (not this one though). I’m going to post three little excerpts from Book 3 which is written from James’ POV. On Monday I shared some budding Wolfstar from The Heir and the Spare, and here is some budding Starchaser from Chapter VI (of a totally different book, just to clarify). 

The first Wednesday of October, James had the entire day lesson free after Transfiguration ended at nine forty-five. He had an essay to work on for Professor Flitwick, the topic being cheering charms, and two chapters to read for Ancient Runes, plus practice of the Relashio jinx for Mwalimu, but those things could wait until after he went flying. He bid a hasty farewell to the other boys, then hustled up to his dorm to grab his Nimbus and change into flying gear. 

It was just past ten when he made it to the quidditch pitch, having to walk most of the way down as the corridors were crowded during the passing period between lessons. Much to his chagrin, as he approached the pitch, he saw a slight figure in black robes mount a broomstick identical to James’ own and rocket into the air. The temptation was too great, James threw his leg over his own broom and shot off the ground, in pursuit of the other flier. 

His mysterious fellow swooped and dived, turning at high speed before rocketing off in the new direction. James followed as best he could, it was a great workout, not knowing what the other person was going to do, and then copying them. Finally, the flier pulled up, and it happened so fast James went rocketing past them before slowing his own broom and flipping around. 

And there, hovering in mid-air was Regulus Black. James did a double take, then let out a chuckle. 

“What’s so funny,” asked Regulus. 

“I didn’t know you could fly,” said James, and his mouth fell into a frown. This was not good. He would have to tell Marlene about this revelation immediately. Regulus on the Slytherin Quidditch Team would mean trouble for the rest of the school. 

“Well now you do,” Regulus flipped his broom around and rocketed off. But James was right on his tail. Regulus slowed again, and this time James came up beside him. 

“So, do you play quidditch?” said James; no subtly at all, that was him. 

“I play seeker.”

“But Black, other Black, female Black, plays seeker.”

Regulus nodded. 

“So, you aren’t playing this year but you want to play after she leaves?”

Regulus nodded. 

James let out a breath of relief. 

“That’s good news because I was about to inform my team Captain we needed to up our game if someone as good as you was flying on the Slytherin Team.”

“Guess you don’t have to try now, huh?” Regulus sneered. 

“We train plenty hard, thank you very much. But with a seeker like you, matches are going to last minutes, not hours. The strategy needs to be adjusted.”

Regulus shook his hair out of his eyes, and scoffed, “I’m so happy you won’t have to adjust your strategy then, for another year at least.”

James was thinking they now had an entire year to prepare for this inevitable situation, but he also said, “do you fly often?”

“Sometimes.”

“Me too.” 

But Regulus had apparently had enough. Without so much as a rude departing hand gesture, he plummeted to the ground and dismounted, walking with his broom back up towards the castle. James watched him go, shrugged, then went back to his own flying drills. If he and Sirius hadn’t been in their weird fighting-notfighting phase, he may have mentioned the unexpected meeting to him, as it was, he kept the information to himself. 

…

You can find more info on this series in my pinned post. Unfortunately, this is from Book 3, which is fully written but doesn’t have an announced posting date as of yet. But it’s coming to AO3, I promise! On Sunday I'm announcing the Title, POV, and posting date for Book 2 in my Weekly Update.

[stellaralchemist]

Come Fly With Me - A Summary

Or: The Gang Robs Protostar

The Starchaser let down amid the jungles of Celestion, the clouds above heavy with rain and rolling with thunder. It was a gloomy day, the jungles lightened only by the lights from the ship and the fires of a crashed ship just at the other end of their little clearing.

“Okay, but how come the ship is on fire?” Jeremy Murdoch asked, sensibly enough given the situation. He was reasonably pragmatic for an exiled Cassian who seemed to spend at least fifty percent of his time inebriated.

"Yeah... I thought it crashed last year or something,” Lady Starheart supplied, but it was too late. The back end of the ship was not on fire and despite the fact it was covered in tumbling vines that should suggest it had been here far too long to be on fire the gang was away.

It wouldn’t really do to be last on the ship, would it? Lady Starheart always ran freckled-face first into danger.

As the gang scrambled around like ants, trying to make hide or hair of this fascinating vessel the ever-sensible Morducai, with his oddly glowing pistols, waited down below. He was far too sensible to get caught in the trap, the trap which appeared to have sprung when rustling sounded from the side. Unluckily for Morducai he seemed to be wrong, and the little bot appeared to be harmless.

Bolo was a Chua, and Bolo was not wholly sensible. E excitedly poked around the little bot before announcing to the crowd, "Is just new Protostar bot. No bombs. Unless bombs come in original model." E couldn’t seem to stop irself looking just a little disappointed with this fact.

"Aww, poor buddy," Bron said, taking a step up to have a look. The granok was always sympathetic to robots, perhaps because (with proper maintenance and unlike the humans around him) they could live as long as he could. "Must'a gone down with the ship."

The granok scraped some mud away from the bot. “You look like an Isaac.”

The gang, with some intermittent bickering, and with the Isaac’s help discovered a door, its keypad indicating that it was even still being powered, at least a little bit. The red light waxed and waned over its face.

“Ooh, power! Good news for us, probably.” Bolo exclaimed. Bolo was relentlessly positive.

"Hopefully," Jeremy muttered to the chua. He was not as relentlessly positive. "Unless there's turrets behind the door or something."

“Is that likely, with Protostar?” Seeker asked, it was possible he was the least positive person in Celestion at the moment, given the current company this was also extremely impressive.

"One advertising bot and nothing else is a bit weird though, right? Protostar shit is usually so... you know, protected,” Lady Starheart pointed out helpfully. It was all a bit weird.

At the door, Jeremy was having trouble. He had a special eye that should have helped him get in, as it stood all he managed was to explode the panel. That made things rather difficult for Bolo, who tried to reconnect some wires. E managed the wires alright, they shocked the chua so badly e ended up rolling down the stairs, smelling of burnt fur.

Jenny Brightmist had a laser, and as the usual ways of opening a door didn’t seem to be working she tried that. Jenny Brightmist was an engineer, an excellent one at that, but even she couldn’t seem to do much more than put a little dent in the thing. Protostar was not fond of being robbed but they also weren’t immune to being blown up. The slightly weakened door coupled with a large number of explosives rendered the doors into pieces and revealed a treasure hoard of gadgets and gizmos, many of which were most definitely not for public consumption.

The hoard was enough to send Bolo into a dead faint but Yautja, the old draken, the clanlord of Mikros who was now the clanfather by default of the Starchaser, knew how to sort that out at least. "He'll come to. Watch this." He leaned down over the chua and said, lowly, "Morducai is touching your tools."

As the crew began to load up the goods, Bolo launched irself at the one-eyed man while Lady ran behind screaming,  "Bolo! Bolo no! Yautja was just trying to wake you up buddy! Don't hurt his face!" She hesitated and helpfully added, "Or his dick!"

It took the crew a few hours to load up the hoard of equipment, above the sky rumbled with thunder and below the crew sat on the ramp, sweating, as the last few pieces went away. Isaac, who had helpfully followed along and beeped cheerfully was nowhere to be seen, an oddity that the crew may have happily overlooked had a heart-rending and panicked mess of beeps not sounded from somewhere in the woods.

Bron was off already, that soft spot for robots would get him hurt one day, and behind him Lady Starheart, whose soft spot for idiots would get her killed. From there it was a domino effect of sorts. Yautja followed along with Jenny, and then Morducai and Jeremy. Seeker and Bolo were smart, they stayed back, at least for the moment.

Isaac was in a clearing, found smoking and injured, its front panels gouged away. It sounded as though something stalked the woods around and Bron, helpful as he was, focused on fixing the droid. Lady Starheart called for Bolo to bring them supplies, something she regretted when the Chua appeared and, beneath the clearing, a crude trap door sent all but Morty, Seeker, and Jeremy tumbling into a cage.

The trapped gang came to with numerous injuries, a snapped leg, cracked ribs, an injured shoulder… perhaps the worst was Yautja’s broken tail. Those were important to Draken, having it broken was a rather large tragedy. Still, none of them were in as bad a state as the bones around them, so there was still hope.

They lay in pain until helpfully supplied with medkits and a few beers from the safe men above. There didn’t seem to be anything to perform a rescue with, either inside the ship or outside. And so, after an hour’s work at the top the three men disappeared and the injured five below were left in the dark, to ponder what had happened to the bones around them.

------

It was six hours or so, before anything happened. When it did it came in the form of a J-X3 Protostar Shipping Protection Unit, its shoulder-mounted laser cannons were decorated with red and gold leaves tied together with vines and it communicated toward the cage in a series of beeps. It looked like it might be an Edgar, possibly a Francis. It came with five other protection units, these ones smaller and flying.

“This definitely how Chua expected to die,” Bolo observed. That was fair, now that it was upon them it seemed reasonable now they would all die this way.

Edgar/Francis tried to communicate, Bron tried to translate, they came to the agreement that what the bots wanted was the Starchaser and this was non-negotiable.

"Tell them they can get fucked,” Lady said after two abrupt a laugh. “Over my dead body and all of yours. Sorry Bolo, dude." She did sound apologetic about that but at least this way her mother would be wrong and she wouldn’t be dying alone.

"That's a no from the captain, friend. How about we work something else out?" Bron asked hopefully but this was not a negotiation on either side. But Isaac was there and Isaac was helpful. It tried to point out the power core in the corner and may have succeeded then if Seeker hadn’t appeared in another cave mouth.

The three men who had not fallen had been trudging all day, through miles of twisting caves, until they found a tunnel that opened here. And now, frustrated, Seeker has stepped out to try to negotiate. This may have been a poor decision given the jumpiness and unease of the bots, one fires and burns the man’s arm. It is not going well.

The bots descended into bickering, the one that shot Seeker even tries to offer him a pebble as an apology. It isn’t going well. The pebble clatters to the ground. The bot looks upset if bots can.

In the cage Bron is just excited to see Jeremy, they are good friends after all. A few pleasantries are exchanged, an attempt to understand what is going on. Edgar (or Francis) points to the power core, it lies dead in the corner beside a powerless bot. An examination of the others yields an indication that they’re all running low on power, their indicators are yellow and red.

Jenny voidslipped out of the cage, why she hadn’t done that hours ago was anyone’s guess but now she stood next to Morty, looking over the power core.

"Power core's fine,” Morty said “Just off. Looks like these bots tried to fix the damage to it and got themselves fried."

"Shame,” Jenny said without meaning it.

They got to work while the bots freed the caged group. They did look excited to be free at least, it was better than being in the cage. The bots seemed mostly curious about them, the bots hadn’t seen people in a while, not living ones anyway.

On the edge of the room Jenny, Seeker, and Bolo were at work on the power core while Jeremy and Bron determined whose fault this was (Bron’s) and Lady Starheart expressed her happiness that Morty had not “Stolen her ship and fucked off”.

Things, it seemed, had ended well for the gang. They repowered the robots (who still had a cage full of bones it was best not to think about) and said their farewells to Isaac, who sent them off happily. And then, well, they were up in the air. Back home and safe.

Well, except for Bron who had a bomb around his neck, but that was very much a different issue.

[jojotier]

Oho sure would be a shame if I added a certain kind of bad end to starchasers.... one where you know something has happened to Sugimoto and co. but dont know what, and at first, you can choose to slowly progress through the chapters, gaining only little sense details, or opt out

would be a shame if I stopped giving the option to opt out by chapter 5 of the path. By around the fifth time you have to continue, it would be a shame if the link said "why are you making me do this?" instead of "will you continue?", and keep going like that until the 9th chapter of that action's path

"why are you making me do this?" 

"She's only thirteen- please, stop." 

"Don't let Shiraishi see too..." 

"Let me go alone... please"

Of course, by that point, you have no choice but to continue with all three of them- no opting out, no lessening the blow. If you wanna see what happened to Sugimoto, Asirpa, and Shiraishi after they’re caught by Usami and Edogai, then all three of them will have to see what’s happened to them as well. You, as the reader, hold the ultimate power.... hehe

[thewhiterabbit42]

Galvanized

Pairing: Gabriel x reader

Written for: @shaylybaby2032

Drunk drabble request:  The hunt turned out to be not their kinda thing, it's storming so bad outside you'd think Thor and Zeus were having a pissing contest, and the power is out at the safe house Gabriel, the reader, Sam, and Dean are at. Dean suggests whiskey and truth or dare. Reader's Feelings/desires get revealed, she thinks Gabe could never feel the same, but he shows her he does once they are alone.

Word Count: 486

Warnings/Tags: Uhhhh, only warning is i’m drunk?  UST, implied sexy times

Special thanks to @blondecoffeecake for the help with the title when I coudln’t English any longer and manfriend for trying lmao

“Talk to me, sweetheart,” Gabriel murmured, lips brushing over yours with every word.  He had his arm above your head, trapping you against the wall.  Heat poured off his body, washing over you in waves and sinking straight down between your legs. 

He’d never been this close, this bold, and you had Dean and his little game of Truth or Dare to thank for it. 

“If it was the whiskey, say so,” he continued, free hand tucking loose strands of hair behind your ears before teasing their way down along your jaw.  “But, I don’t think it was just that.  Was it.”

His fingers curled beneath your chin, not a single question lingering beneath his statement.  

He was right.  It wasn’t just the whiskey, and you’d spent the last twelve hours thinking you were a complete idiot. 

It was supposed to be a game.  One harmless game, Dean had insisted, and you had gone and agreed because what else were you supposed to do?

The storm that rolled in had been biblical, nearly washing you away with the flood of rain that poured down on you.  You’d been lucky to find the cabin when you did, before the darkness truly set in and you only had the flashes of lightning and a very powered down archangel to guide you to safety. 

Unfortunately, that also meant you were stuck in the dark when you found out you had no working electricity.  

It wasn’t supposed to come out.  You weren’t supposed to be a little too caught up in the things that made you prefer a certain archangel’s company, but the moment you had confessed to rather being stuck there with Gabriel than the others, Dean just hadn’t been able to let it go.

At the time, it had been humiliating.  Now, it seemed to be working out in your favor. 

There was no mistaking the electricity that sparked between your bodies, no doubt about the intent that gleamed within gold.  All the careful lines you held with each other vanished in the blink of an eye, leaving you pressed against the wall of your room almost immediately upon returning to the bunker. 

You nervously licked your lips, accidentally skimming his in the process.  His eyes fluttered, body leaning into yours as the warmth of his breath suddenly stilled.  

It was then that you realized just how much power you held in the situation.  

“Gabriel,” you purred, making sure every letter of his name could be felt against his mouth.  “Is there something you’d like to tell me?”

He smirked, hips pressed brazenly to yours so you could feel his growing arousal.  “Why don’t I show you instead?”

aaaaand drunk me forgot the tags again...

ALL the tags

@girl-next-door-writes @blondecoffeecake @room-with-a-cat @nobodys-baby-now @lucifer-in-leather @crashdevlin @idabbleincrazy @lovelyhexbag @megasimpleplan4ever @brokencasbutt67-writer @mrswhozeewhatsis @ourloveisforthelovely @copperseraphim @sherlockedtash88 @azlinh @authoressskr @bofa-deans-nuts @phantomwarrior12 @karichanarts @archangelgabriellives @mizzezm @curious-trickster @tardis-is-mine @archangelashiah @katekvnes @datajana @shadows-and-padlocked-hearts @marichromatic @falcatrecon @flufy07 @alisoncdariel @angelofwinchester17​ @feelmyroarrrr​

Gabe Squad (Gabriel)  

@disneymarina @starchaser-the-prophet @bloodstained-porcelain-doll @the-kryomancer @supernaturalways @erisunderthemoon @hankypranky @fruitypieq @missihart23 @a-wing-and-a-pen @waywardspringchild @luciferseclipse @greeneyedtrickster @fand0maniac @gabegirrl86