#true religion sweat suit

[fandom-hoarder]

A Bibro's

Sastiel Rec List

-for the canon-adjacent connoisseur-

1. Pagan by posingasme

Gen | Rating: Mature | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 17, 782 | Chapters: 8/8

Tags: Blasphemy, Idol Worship, Fallen Castiel, Priest Sam, Hunterverse, Implied/Referenced Torture, Canon-Typical Violence

Summary: Castiel has fallen, too soon. Madness and desperation plague him, but, as always, his heart is still in the right place...with Sam Winchester.

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2. Run Right; or Lie by orphan_account

Gen, M/M | Rating: Teen+ | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 5,197 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: AU, Alternate Universe, Canon Divergence, Pre-Slash

Summary: AU in which Dean died during Faith, the first seal was broken in season one, and Sam met Castiel when his faith was as strong as ever.

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3. Kneel Before the Lord Our Maker by EnInkahootz

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 3,000 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Supernatural Kink Bingo 2021, Porn, Smut, Blasphemy, Angels, Angel Kink, Religion, Religion Kink, Angel Wings, Wings, Flying, Clouds, Cock Worship, Dom/sub, Sub Sam Winchester, Dom Castiel, Dom Castiel/Sub Sam Winchester, Dreams, Blow Jobs, Post-Episode: s04e07 It's the Great Pumpkin Sam Winchester

Summary: After first meeting Castiel and being disappointed in It's the Great Pumpkin, Sam Winchester (Season 4, Episode 7), Sam has a dream about Castiel being the classic sort of angel he had expected to meet. Sam dreams of using his mouth to worship Castiel's holy cock, which Sam sees as an extension of god.

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4. What This Is About by MissMisdemeanor

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 3,147 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Top Castiel/Bottom Sam Winchester, Riding, Sweat, Hook-Up, Secret Relationship, Canon Compliant, canon adjacent?, Making Out, Early season 5 Supernatural

Summary: “This is something you’ve wanted before today,” Cas states, and it’s true. He’s not sure if Cas even had to read his soul to get at that.

Sam’s breath stops. He freezes momentarily. “Yeah,” he admits. “Shit, Cas, yeah. I’d have done this the day we met.”

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5. A First Grasp by Fae-and-night (goodgirlgonegeek16)

M/M | Rating: Gen | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,034 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Season 5 angst, Episode: s05e03 Free to Be You and Me, or at least the sastiel alternate ending to that episode.

Summary: Sastiel-flavored coda for “Free to be You and Me” with some early seasons bamf!castiel.

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6. My Sastiel Valentine by rosworms

M/M | Rating: Mature | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 3,371 | Chapters: 3/3

Tags: Episode: s05e14 My Bloody Valentine, Slash, NSFW, Sastiel - Freeform, Sam/Cas - Freeform

Summary: A very slight AU of the episode 'My Bloody Valentine' where Sam is affected by famine in a different way.

🔆 55 more fics, in relatively chronological order, below the cut 🔆

7. Boy in the White Suit by posingasme

Gen, M/M | Mature | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Words: 13,460 | Chapters: 7/7

Tags: Boy King of Hell Sam Winchester, Post-Apocalypse, Dark Sam Winchester, Insanity, Alice in Wonderland References, Blasphemy, Self-Destruction, Madness

Summary: Sam said no. Dean said yes. Sam lost his mind. Castiel lost his friends. That’s the road so far.

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8. A More Profound Bond by confxsed

Gen, M/M | Rating: Gen | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 5,824 | Chapters: 5/5

Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, Jealous Dean Winchester, Protective Castiel, Hurt Sam Winchester, Emotionally Hurt Sam Winchester, Angst, Season/Series 05, Sam Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Mentions of Suicide, Pre-Slash

Summary: Five little moments where Dean notices the relationship between Sam and Castiel growing.

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9. some space underneath my skin by hellsreluctantheir

Part 1 of touch -- The soulless Sam and Cas were fucking verse.

M/M | Rating: Mature | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 23,607 | Chapters: 8/8

Tags: Soulless!Sam, Season/Series 06

Summary: Humans liked to touch each other in ways that baffled Castiel. Not just in the manner they slyly referred to as biblically. He watched them clap hands onto shoulders and backs, lean into each other in exhaustion, sleep sitting up with feet resting against each other on the floor. A constant, reverberating, nonverbal hymn. I am here. You are here. We are here, and we are alive. Angels did not need that kind of reassurance. Castiel could hear his siblings' songs no matter how near he was to them physically. Prayers and psalms in the back of his mind. It saddened him, somewhat, to think that humanity would never know that.

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10. The Unexpected by muzivitch

M/M | Rating: Gen | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,253 Chapters: 1/1

Summary: Sam and Castiel discuss his missing year. Also, Sam has a crush that would be obvious to anyone but Castiel (except it might even be obvious to him, after all). Takes place after 6.12 "Like A Virgin."

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11. Doing Just Fine by masterlynovak

M/M, Multi | Rating: Explicit | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 1,069 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: idk it's a threesome but not really?, Dean is just watching Sam and Cas have sex, voyerism

Summary: Dean wakes up in a room with a naked Sam spread out on the bed.

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12. Wings by Rowan203

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 1,415 Chapters: 1/1

Summary: AU after season 6. Sam comes back from the cage broken and changed. Dean and Castiel deal with it in different ways.

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13. Between the Shadow and the Soul by Vee (Vera_DragonMuse)

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 6,456 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Poetry, hell is the absence of love, take shelter in me, castiel thinks sam is the wolf, sam thinks castiel is in another story, really they're both just lost in the fog

Summary: What if Sam was the one that went to Purgatory with Castiel?

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14. The Sun Pale as Milk by Icanseenow

M/M | Rating: Mature | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 39,879 Chapters: 21/21

Tags: POV Sam Winchester, Season/Series 08, Purgatory, Post-Purgatory, Slow Burn, Nearly Human Castiel, Post-Season/Series 07

Summary: Instead of Dean, Castiel is the one to return from Purgatory first. He finds Sam, and together they spend a year. Looking for Dean and not looking for Dean.

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15. a body of proof by lordofsoup

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Words: 21,525 | Chapters: 5/5

Tags: Angelic Possession, Consensual Possession, basically possession (romantic), Trials of Hell, Canon Divergence, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma From Lucifer's Cage, Sam Winchester Has an Eating Disorder, a minor point but i wanted to mention it, references to honey!cas, Developing Relationship, Romantic Fluff, Sharing a Bed, Sharing a Body, includes art!! [complete tags on Ao3]

Summary: Sam's sickness worsens after the second trial, resulting in him being rushed to the hospital, the extensive damage has left Sam drained of his fight. To continue with the trials Sam must allow Castiel to heal him, by possessing him. While having an alien home under his skin is nothing new for Sam, Castiel's constant presence unwittingly unburies a host of issues. Two people desperate for forgiveness in the same body should get crowded at times but between the nightmares, the sickness, and the blood; there are some cookies, a quiet beach on the coast of Oregon, and a chance at something new between them.

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16. ficlet - sastiel, a/b/o dynamics by wrenseroticlibrary_archivist

[also on tumblr]

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 580 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Post-Season/Series 08, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Fallen Angel Castiel, Mating Cycles/In Heat, First Time, Porn, Ficlet, Alpha Castiel, Omega Sam Winchester

Summary: When Castiel had Fallen, he’d clearly become an alpha.

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17. Stay in Touch by Cuda (Scylla)

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 6,310 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Post-Episode: s09e06 Heaven Can't Wait, Missing Scene, Human Castiel, Newly Human Castiel, Love Confessions, Not Actually Unrequited Love, First Kiss, First Time, Masturbation, Sexually Inexperienced Castiel, Castiel and Sam Winchester in Love, Sastiel - Freeform

Summary: Concerned about newly-human Castiel's decision to leave the Bunker on his own, Sam sets out for Idaho to find his best friend - and get some answers for himself.

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18. Angels and Answers by klove0511

Part 1 of Milestones 'verse

M/M | Rating: Explicit | Rape/Non-Con | Words: 15,190 Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Possessed Sam Winchester, Memory Alteration, Human Castiel, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, First Time Blow Jobs, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon Divergence, Sam Winchester Has Self-Esteem Issues, Castiel Has Self-Esteem Issues, Alternate Season/Series 09, Winchester communication skills

Summary: Cas has discovered his sexuality as a human when the Winchesters bring him to the bunker, and he and Sam fall into bed together. When Gadreel forces Dean to drive Cas away, the two must find their way back to each other, freeing Sam from Gadreel in the process.

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19. So polite by bloodandcream

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,174 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Season 9, Angst, Sam topping from the bottom, Erectile Dysfunction

Summary: “Please,” was whispered into his mouth. So polite. Sam was in control here.

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20. Had Worse by posingasme

Gen, M/M | Rating: Gen | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 3,687 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Bunker Fic, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: Sam has a very high threshold for pain, and an iron will. So this current hunting injury, even with its weird attack on his view of reality, is nothing compared to what he has been through in the past. He’s had worse. But that does nothing to reassure those who love him.

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21. I'm always dragging that horse around by Trojie

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 5,499 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Unrequited Wincest, Unrequited Destiel, Enochian, Phobias, Hell Trauma, Season/Series 09, Episode: s09e11 First Born, Angel Healing, Implied Wincestiel, Hopeful Ending

Summary: Sam has a horror of angels and Cas has a compulsion to heal. It doesn't help that they speak the same languages, or that Dean is elsewhere - somehow he's always between them, and somehow they still have to meet in the middle.

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22. The Best Medicine by sarasaurusrex

Multi | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,247 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Comfort, Fluff, Depressed Sam Winchester, Season/Series 09, Misunderstandings, Castiel Takes Care of Sam Winchester, Established Castiel/Sam Winchester, Domestic Fluff

Summary: Castiel confuses Sam’s symptoms of depression with symptoms of the flu and tries to help. Set mid season 9.

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23. anything you need, that's what i'll be by starlightswait

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,092 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Dissociation, Bodily Autonomy, Season/Series 09, Aftermath of Possession, Post-Episode: s09e11 First Born, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Self-Harm, Food Issues

Summary: There is a strange discomfort in healing Sam in the days that follow Dean’s departure.

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24. muscle memory by hellsreluctantheir

Part 2 of touch - Sam's POV s7 - s9

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 5,830 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Season/Series 07, Season/Series 09

Summary: Sam lost his soul, slept with an angel, got his soul back, lost his memory, and then lost his mind before they could have a conversation about it. It's fine. The Hell trauma is gone, and he's coping. Even when Castiel comes back, he'll continue to cope.

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25. Divine by Matthew1972

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 8,120 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: POV Sam Winchester, Protective Castiel, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Kissing, First Time, Porn with Feelings, Anal Sex, Bottom Sam Winchester, Top Castiel, Bottoming from the Top, Angelic Grace Play, Angel Wings, Morning Sex, Oral Sex

Summary: Coda/AU scene to episode S09E11, First Born. "But nothing is worth losing you", Castiel shows that what he said was something he meant. Held safe in his arms and wings Sam learns the stunning truth about 'his' angel. How he heals the pain inside of him with something more than trust, care and touch.

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26. Even If We Can't Find Heaven by ellerkay

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 8,044 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Having Faith, Loss of Faith, First Kiss, First Time Blow Jobs, Anal Sex, Pining

Summary: Sam finds his faith and loses it and finds it again, albeit in a very different form. A Sastiel love story and exploration of Sam’s faith and spirituality. [Note: prayer during sex🙏]

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27. Table For Two by the_diving_fox

M/M | Rating: Gen | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,775 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: somewhere in s9, Human Castiel, valentine's day fic, POV Outsider

Summary: A tired waitress at Ann's Diner happens to serve Sam and Castiel amidst all the other obnoxious Valentine's Day couples. Sam and Castiel manage to surprise her, though.

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28. Two Beat Up Humans by PacJazz

M/M, Multi | Rating: Gen | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 3,863 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Fluff and Angst, Pre-Slash, PTSD, Post-Gadreel, Human!Castiel, Hurt Sam Winchester, Post-trials with no angel healing hurt, Hurt/Comfort, Season/Series 09, Nightmares, Domestic Fluff, Hair Brushing, Insomnia, No Smut, Enochian-Speaking Sam Winchester, Sleepiness, Literal Sleeping Together [complete tags on Ao3]

Summary: Both broken, yet eager to help the other heal.... Sam and Cas are living in the bunker now, sans-dean after the gadreel betrayal. Cas is newly Human now, and while he needs some help learning the intricacies of that, Sam needs some help healing. They both share things, and think through what they've lost. *In slight AU where post-gadreel Sam is living in the bunker with newly human Castiel*

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29. A Crucifixion Without A Christ by angelshotgun

M/M | Rating: Explicit | Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con | Words: 18,501 | Chapters: 10/10

Tags: Angelic Possession, Castiel's Angelic Grace, Major Character Injury, Hurt Sam Winchester, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hell Trauma, Sam Winchester is Loved, Hurt Castiel, Guilty Castiel, Crying, Cuddling & Snuggling, Sam Winchester Needs a Hug, voicemail fixit, Post-Gadreel, Trust Issues, Sam Winchester Has a Crush on Castiel, Happy Ending, Schmoop, Hunter Retirement [complete tags on Ao3]

Summary: When Sam Winchester is badly injured on a hunt, Cas has to possess him to keep him alive and help him heal. And though Sam agreed to let him in, Cas is acutely aware of how many times Sam has had his bodily autonomy taken away from him, and how much Cas himself has contributed to Sam's pain. And now that he's inside Sam's head? Well, he tries to be as unobtrusive as possible, but Sam is just... traumatized. And hurting. Maybe, he thinks, maybe this is his chance to put aside his own feelings for Sam to help heal the hurts he had a hand in creating?

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30. Moments of Madness by orphan_account

M/M | Rating: Mature | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,140 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Season/Series 10, ish, Canon Compliant, Enochian-Speaking Sam Winchester, Nightmares, Hurt/Comfort, Trauma From Lucifer's Cage, Protective Dean Winchester, Castiel Loves Sam Winchester, Kissing, Fluff

Summary: It just happens, the first time. Dean's a Demon, and Sam's so alone. The next times?

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31. Blankets by mako_lies (wingeddserpent)

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,212 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Episode: s10e01 Black, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt Castiel

Summary: Sam and Cas try to take care of one another.

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32. Situational Failure (The Chicken Soup Remix) by StripySock

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 2,540 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Season/Series 10, Remix, Hurt Sam Winchester, Hurt Castiel, Sickfic, Frottage

Summary: There is a fear in Cas that if he lets Sam make himself at home in all of the places that Dean had declined to fill, he will lose the ability to ever refuse it again.  Or: Sam is sick, Cas is failing, and Dean is nowhere to be found. [implied unrequited destiel]

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33. Feathers Falling by posingasme

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 13,144 | Chapters: 6/6

Tags: Hurt/Comfort, Angel Wings, Castiel in the Bunker, Permanent Injury, Protective Sam Winchester, Hurt Castiel, Fever, Delirium, Castiel & Charlie Bradbury Friendship, Alternate Canon, Season/Series 10, Angst [complete tags on Ao3]

Summary: Castiel has been hurt, but he won't reveal how bad it is. Sam distracts him from the pain by reading him classic love stories, and Cas just doesn’t think any of them depict a love as strong as theirs.

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34. Since When Does Sam Have PLANS? by Fae-and-night (goodgirlgonegeek16)

Gen | Rating: Gen | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 343 | Chapters: 1/1

Summary: "Dean’s POV on Sastiel, late seasons Sastiel, the ‘mistaken for a couple’ trope.

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35. Keep You from the Gallows Pole by Fallynleaf

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 7,337 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Alternate Season/Series 10 Finale, Mark of Cain Cure, Charlie Lives, Implied Unrequited Destiel, Implied Unrequited Wincest, Implied Wincestiel, Asexual Relationship [complete tags on Ao3]

Summary: Season 10, if it were the love story of Sam and Cas.

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36. Episode 199.5 by posingasme

Part 1 of Before 200...

Gen, M/M | Rating: Teen+ | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Words: 56,473 | Chapters: 20/20

Tags: Mark of Cain, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Stolen Grace, Protective Dean Winchester, Demon Blood, BAMF Castiel, Sam Winchester on Demon Blood, Alternate Angel Lore, Canon-Typical Violence, Torture, Dean Winchester Bears the Mark of Cain, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Guilt

Summary: Dean is dealing with guilt, and fear of losing control to the Mark again. Castiel has new Grace, but eventually, it will burn out just as before. Sam just wants a fresh start all around. Life in the bunker is getting a bit...crowded. Memories and tempers are boiling over, along with something that has been heating up for a long time. Things get nasty when an old foe comes for Sam, and it's all hands on deck.

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37. Wingman by posingasme

Part 2 of Before 200...

Gen, M/M | Rating: Teen+ | Graphic Depictions Of Violence | Words: 65,222 | Chapters: 21/21

Tags: Spoilers, Mark of Cain, Dreams and Nightmares, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Psychological Torture, Canon-Typical Violence, Dean Winchester Bears the Mark of Cain, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Self-Destructive Dean Winchester

Summary: Now that Sam and Castiel have been honest with one another, and Dean has given his blessing, the two are forced into the awkward stage of figuring out where to go from here. Dean is still battling against the Mark, and his anxiety manifests in various ways, some of which are healthier than others.

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38. Sentimental Iterations by fabella

M/M | Rating: Explicit | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 33,370 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Future Fic, Season/Series 11, Season/Series 10, Slow Burn, Friends to Lovers, Betrayal, Deception, Winchester Style Death (Not Typical Death), Semi Curtain Fic, Resolved Sexual Tension, Anal Sex, Rimming, Bottom Sam, Oral Sex, Sam is a big damn hero, Castiel-centric, Human Castiel, Big Brother Dean, Angst, Hurt Sam Winchester, Mental Instability, Sacrifice, Brother Feels, Grief/Mourning [complete tags on Ao3]

Summary: Castiel learned everything he knows about devotion from the Winchesters. In this peaceful future built on the back of Sam Winchester’s most recent sacrifice, Castiel discovers that death itself can be overcome. If he’s willing to pay the price. [Notes: Set after season 10. An entirely different take on season 11.]

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39. Sam's Room by NobleHouseOfBlack

M/M | Rating: Not Rated | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,864 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: No Dialogue, Nightmares, Sharing a Bed, Platonic Cuddling, Feel-good

Summary: Sam's room in the bunker didn't seem like his room. He slept there occasionally but there was nothing that would indicate he lived there.

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40. The Devil’s Gonna Let On That You’re In The Details by sahwen

M/M | Rating: Not Rated | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 3,055 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lucifer Possessing Castiel, Post-Episode: s11e10 The Devil in the Details, Episode: s11e14 The Vessel, Post-Episode: s11e14 The Vessel, Season/Series 12, this fic spans across a lot of time, Hook-Up, Sam Winchester Has Mental Health Issues, Trauma, Protective Dean Winchester, Supportive Dean, Post-Possession

Summary: Sam and Cas have been hooking up casually for a while when something feels off to Sam. He’s sure it’s just his mind playing tricks on him.

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41. Loved by the Devil, loved by an angel by N_13

Part 1 of Of this damned reality

M/M | Rating: Mature | Rape/Non-Con | Words: 3,076 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Rape/Non-con Elements, Abusive Relationships, Angst, Dubious Consent Due To Identity Issues, everybody needs a hug, and therapy, Hurt/very little comfort, Unhealthy Relationships, No really every relationship in this is fucked up on some level, Hurt Sam Winchester, Season/Series 11, Lucifer Possessing Castiel, Enochian-Speaking Sam Winchester

Summary: Cas has loved Sam for quite some time. Then he said yes to Lucifer and everything went to hell.

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42. Heartbreak is Savvy and Love is a Bitch by Cuda (Scylla)

M/M | Rating: Mature | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 2,405 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Lapdance, Light Dom/sub, Dom Castiel, Sub Sam Winchester, Sensation Play, Post-Episode: s11e14 The Vessel, Implied/Referenced Torture, Sam Winchester Deserves to be Happy, Safewords, Sam Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Sam Winchester is Bad at Self Care, Castiel's not the most experienced dom, Established Relationship, Light Angst [complete tags on Ao3]

Summary: Castiel and Sam work on some fractures in their relationship. A gentle attempt at sensory play goes awry, leaving them scrambling to ratchet things back up to normal. Part of the 2020 Supernatural Kink Bingo.

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43. Thirty Years too Late by hyperbolicfae

Gen, M/M, Other | Rating: Teen+ | Rape/Non-Con | Words: 2,770 | Chapters: 2/2

Tags: Hurt Sam Winchester, Protective Dean Winchester, Protective Castiel, Aftermath of Torture, Implied Mind Rape, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Protective Mary Winchester

Summary: Mary Winchester has rescued her son. She’s just thirty years too late. Or: The aftermath of Sam’s rescue from the British Men of Letters

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44. whore of babylon by angelszn (artbabe)

M/M | Rating: Mature | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 2,465 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Infidelity, Movie Night, Sam Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Floor Sex, Non-Penetrative Sex, Drinking, Dubious Consent, Past Rape/Non-con, Guilt, Gift Exchange [contains background destiel]

Summary: “Dean is a good man, and I love him. But sometimes, I…” Cas licks his lips. “Sam, I’m afraid.” Sam should leave. He should walk away. He should run. But his body is heavy and wine-drunk, his head spins at what Cas might be hinting at. “What are you afraid of?”

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45. The One You're With by gracerene

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 5,397 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Unrequited Wincest, Unrequited Sastiel, Platonic Sex, Friendship, Sexually Inexperienced Castiel, Fuck Or Die, Curses, Frottage, POV Sam Winchester, Season/Series 12, Hung Sam Winchester, Present Tense

Summary: Sam knows better than to touch anything in the bunker that looks even the slightest bit suspicious. And yet…

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46. Wins & Losses by Threshie

M/M, Multi | Rating: Teen+ | Major Character Death | Words: 17,384 | Chapters: 8/8

Tags: Temporarily Dead Castiel, Heartbroken Sam Winchester, Comforting Dean Winchester, Sharing a Bed, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Sastiel, Wincest, Wincestiel, Poly Vee With Sam Pivot, Cuddling & Snuggling, Men of Letters Bunker, Angst with a Happy Ending, Touchy-Feely, Grieving Sam Winchester, Idiots in Love [complete tags on Ao3]

Summary: A few months after Sam and Castiel start dating, the angel is killed. Still reeling from the loss of his best friend, Dean can’t just sit and watch Sam’s heartbreak slowly pull him away, too.

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47. Now I am here by Matthew1972

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 13,728 | Chapters: 5/5

Tags: Friends to Lovers, Asexual Relationship, Literal Sleeping Together, Sharing a Bed, Feelings Realization, Hugs, Boys Kissing, Case Fic, Monster Hunters, Crime Scenes, Angst, Blood, Hurt, Pagan Gods, Magic

Summary: Castiel and Sam have come to another nameless town to free it from the claws of a dark and ancient power. As they work the case their friendship grows stronger, changing into something more or does it? This, here, now… brings the confirmation they each needed.

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48. Something Good by posingasme

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 5,876 | Chapters: 4/4

Tags: Food Issues, showtunes, Sleep Deprivation, Hurt Sam Winchester, Sick Sam Winchester

Summary: Everyone deals with their losses in their own way, and Sam prefers to work things out on his own. But his angel friend can’t stand on the sidelines as the hunter wastes away in pain. Sam may have had a complex past, but an angel’s love is proof that he must have done something good.

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49. Something to Talk About by Fae-and-night (goodgirlgonegeek16)

Gen, M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 777 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: mentions Castiel but he's not actually here, Bunker Era, Dean being a big brother, telltale hickies, Love Bites

Summary: To be honest, Sam thought it took Dean way longer than he would’ve expected to figure he and Castiel were together.

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50. Lois by posingasme

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 4,195 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Superman References (DCU), Awkward Crush, Mutual Pining, Misunderstandings

Summary: Jack discovers the joy of comic books, and reminds Castiel of a time when Bobby Singer called him Superman. And Dean had an opinion about who his Lois Lane was.

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51. Happy Ain't a Two-Story Victorian, But it Might Be This by Cuda (Scylla)

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 3,382 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Episode: s14e15 Peace of Mind, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Fake Marriage, Mind Control, Mind Manipulation, Dean Winchester Tries, Family Issues, Jack Kline & Dean Winchester Bonding

Summary: Sam and Castiel have been on a mission to an Arkansas hamlet, and they haven't checked in. When Dean and Jack trail them to a quiet street in Charming Acres, what they find is nothing like either of them expected. To be honest, cleaning out a nest of vampires might be easier than this, but Dean's going to give it the old college try. Whatever that means.

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52. Milestones and Misunderstandings by klove0511

Part 2 of Milestones 'verse

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 2,711 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: mildly homophobic!Mary, inappropriate anniversary gifts, protective!Dean, Sam Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Season/Series 14, Fluff, Tumblr Prompt, Oblivious!Dean

Summary: There is something different about Sam and Cass. The lingering stares, the intimate touches. The careful whispers and secret smiles. Dean knew it. He was going to get to the bottom of it, one way or another.

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53. Stricta Dormire by klove0511

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | Major Character Death | Words: 3,583 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Temporary Character Death, Fairy Tale Type Death, Established Relationship, Hurt Sam Winchester, Angst with a Happy Ending, Hell Trauma, Season/Series 14 Spoilers, Sad Dean Winchester, Sad Castiel, Grief/Mourning, True Love's Kiss

Summary: When Sam is hit by a spell, Cass is the only one that can save him. Meanwhile, Dean is grieving his brother, unaware of the struggle going on within Sam’s mind.

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54. Roadhouse Rough by posingasme

Gen, M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 12,738 | Chapters: 10/10

Tags: Curtain Fic, Alcohol, Hurt Sam Winchester, Retired Hunter Sam Winchester, Bartender Sam Winchester, Permanent Injury

Summary: The last tangle with the last archangel ended with an act of spite, from which Sam will never recover. Lucifer’s bitter parting gift to his wayward vessel means Sam’s forced retirement. He runs the hub from his very own Roadhouse, and watches over a powered-down nephilim, while a weakened but recovering Castiel hunts at Dean’s side. It’s a rough life, but someone’s got to do it.

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55. Familiar Spirits by Cuda (Scylla)

M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 6,619 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Wisconsin - Freeform, The Beast of Bray Road, References to Norse Religion & Lore, Season/Series 15, Monster of the Week, Case Fic, Sastiel Secret Santa Exchange, Sastiel - Freeform, Sastiel Secret Santa 2019

Summary: Fills in a little gap of time between 15-7 and 15-8. Sam's on the hunt for Eileen, and winds up on a case in the middle of Wisconsin in December. What seems like a straightforward case of werewolves gets out of hand, when the werewolves turn out to be something Sam's never encountered before. It's Castiel to the rescue, but in the middle of the night in a refrigerator of a forest, one wrong move could be the last one they ever make.

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56. a rock with a hole in it by De_Nugis

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 11,052 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: faerie - Freeform, possibly in some way a Canadian shack fic, except Faerie, Consent Issues, animal death (hunting), Unrequited Destiel, Soulless Sam Winchester, POV Castiel

Summary: Castiel walks back into Faerie with Sam's soul in a jar in his pocket.

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57. Right Now by spideybegins

Gen, M/M | Rating: Teen+ | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 1,512 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Hurt Sam Winchester, Comforting Castiel, samcas, Sastiel - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Season/Series 15, Angst, Crying Sam Winchester, Don’t Look at These Messy Tags, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, no beta we die like men

Summary: The one where Cas hears Sam crying and realizes he’s been avoiding the youngest Winchester for much too long. Set somewhere in season 15.

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58. It’s Good to Be Here Again, With You by raisinghellonstarbug

M/M | Rating: Gen | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 2,240 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Canon Compliant, Reunions, Mentioned Dean Winchester, Fluff and Angst, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Sharing a Bed, Season/Series 15, Episode: s15e07 Last Call

Summary: Sam is missing Castiel and doesn't understand why he left. He knows Dean has something to do with it. But then he shows back up just in time before Sam's in real trouble.

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59. wishing too hard for them to stay by angelfishofthelord

Gen | Rating: Not Rated | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 1,727 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: Episode s15e17 coda, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Angst, One Shot, Season/Series 15, Season/Series 15 Speculation, POV First Person, POV Sam Winchester [complete tags on Ao3]

Summary: You tell me you’re doing to die, and I don’t yell at you. Instead I say, “Let’s go for a walk.”

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⚠️ Unfinished Fic - last updated in 2013

60. Of Blood And Water by lovedsammy

M/M, Gen | Rating: Mature | Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings | Words: 20,081 Chapters: 7/?

Tags: 8x23, Fallen Angels, Post Season/Series 08, Hurt/Comfort, Family, Romance, Angst, fallen!cas, Hurt!Sam, Hurt!Cas, Slash, stigmata!sam, Stigmata, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, AU, Season/Series 9 canon divergent, Friendship

Summary: Now AU to season 9! Post-8x23, "Sacrifice". Both of them were wounded, broken, in need of repair; both of them had done things in the name of the greater good and had ultimately failed and caused something or another to bend and break and destroy upon itself. They'd both wrecked themselves to achieve an end, and in turn wrecked others. But they couldn't have been more than two opposites on the end of the spectrum that somehow aligned at the middle-point, and now there was no going back.

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💜💀🖤 Self Rec 💜💀🖤

(because this is a list of my favs, and I wrote it for me)

61. grief and husbands on the interstate by ladygizarme

M/M | Rating: Explicit | No Archive Warnings Apply | Words: 2,787 | Chapters: 1/1

Tags: background wincest, background wincestiel - Freeform, they're a polycule but they're sam-centered, Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Rimming, Bottom Sam Winchester, Spit As Lube, Wound Tending, Episode: s14e01 Stranger in a Strange Land, part coda, Part fix-it, Polyamory, Anal Sex

Summary: En route from Detroit back to the bunker, Cas makes them stop at a motel. Sam is exhausted, and so is everybody else. But right now, Castiel's priority is Sam, and he knows just what he needs. Part coda, part fix-it to 14x01.

[mech4nicalbr1de]

Rating: +18

Fandom: Hannibal (TV)

Pairing: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter

Characters: Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter

Tags: Post-Episode: s03e13 The Wrath of the Lamb, Post-Fall (Hannibal), Murder Husbands, Bl*w Jobs, Hannibal Lecter's Very Active Cowper's Glands, Bruises, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Will loves Hannibal more than anything and treats Hannibal as his religion, Will Graham Loves Hannibal Lecter, Hannibal Lecter Loves Will Graham, Sub Hannibal Lecter, or traces of it, Pet Names, Will calls Hannibal baby, and he loves it, Hannibal speaks Italian, Fluff, they are so in love it's diabetes-inducing, i love them so much your honour, Coming Untouched, Coming In Pants

Summary: Will blowing Hannibal in their living room post-fall. That's it.

Word count: 2k ish

AO3 link here

Notes: i have not posted fanfiction in forever. i hope someone out there enjoys this was-to-be-drabble that got out of control <3

Text under cut. Reblogs are appreciated <3

To Will, this was as close to Heaven as he would get, as he thought was possible — kneeled between Hannibal’s legs in front of their couch, hands squeezing his strong thighs with the intent of painting his skin with varying shades of purple, and his mouth full of his fiancée’s cock. It was wonderful, truly. The delicious stretch his throat made as he bobbed his head up and down around his monster’s length, his own saliva sliding down his chin, along with copious amounts of precum — so much of it, always, every time. It never ceased to amaze Will just how messy it could get with Hannibal, and his cock that never stopped leaking. Will was always more than eager to clean it all up, however; to take him into his mouth and swallow until there’s nothing left, or to ride him until he’s dripping, and even letting — often enough asking — the other man to paint his skin with his cum. It was never enough.

And how could Will ever get enough?

How could he get enough of anything Hannibal-pertinent? Of how his fiancée’s skin glistened with sweat, glowing with a hint of something akin to gold, an illusion crafted by the orange hue of the lit fireplace behind them; of the way his chest heaved as he sighed and moaned and even cursed under his breath when Will sucked the tip between his lips, pulling away ever so slightly to run his tongue over the slit —the act of getting the oh so sophisticated Doctor Lecter to lose his composure to the point of cursing always brought the younger man great satisfaction—; of the expression of pure bliss on Hannibal’s divinely sculpted features, and how the beautiful honey of his eyes was obscured nearly completely by black from how dilated his pupils were. The darkness was present, the monster within the man staring back at Will, but it was pliant, willingly submitting to his ministrations, aching for what Will decided to give, and the person-suit was nowhere to be seen.

The moan that escaped his throat sent vibrations all over his fiancée’s cock, who gasped and tightened the hold of his fingers on Will’s hair. Not to control and dictate the rhythm, but for stability, to have a level of grounding as Will accelerated his movements gradually. He pulled away completely, chuckling at the choked-out protest Hannibal gave, and ran his tongue up and down along the length of the older man’s leaking cock, gathering every drop, even as more came trailing down. Bless that man and his unusually active cowper’s glands. It was enough that often, they could forego lube altogether, able to use Hannibal’s slick precum as a substitute. It was messy and it felt so good.

Will was in charge, and he was aware it was an act of love. Pure, unbridled love, powerful enough to devastate Troy and all the gods that may make foible attempts at stopping the inevitable.

This was true power.

‘Will-,’ Hannibal whined, the lovely sound blending into a moan when Will focused his tongue on the man’s frenulum.

Gazing up into his monster’s face, Will smirked in a clear display of enjoyment at being the reason Lucifer himself was being reduced into a whimpering, supplicating mess. And just because he could and would get away with it without any long-lasting consequences, he almost halted his movements, taking to lap his tongue over the thick head of his fiancée’s cock in kitten licks.

‘Yes, love?’

Innocence was impersonated in his tone, but the malice in the striking blue of his eyes denounced his true intentions.

‘Please.’

‘Please what, baby? Use your words. You’re all about that anyways, aren’t you?’

Will cocked his head at Hannibal playfully. 

“Wicked boy.” The doctor sighed languidly. “You might be enjoying yourself more than I am.”

He directed a pointed glance at the wet stain on Will’s dress pants, the smooth fabric tight around his crotch. 

Will hummed, taking the leaking head between his lips once again, sucking lightly. He revelled in the hiss that blended into a whine that left Hannibal’s throat.

“Yeah. I enjoy sitting here and make an absolute mess out of my fiancée. beg Watch America’s most prolific serial killer submitting to me is something I’ll never get sick of.’ Will grinned, running his tongue along Hannibal’s shaft. ‘And you look so pretty when you beg, darlin.’

It was intentional. The use of the term fiancée, the southern twang at the pet name darling, it was all meticulously crafted to get Hannibal melting further into Will’s ministrations, and the way he moaned at those magic words brought Will a sense of victory. It was a trick the younger man often pulled, the usage of terms of endearment. It was both adorable and amusing how easy it was to get Hannibal to behave exactly like Will wanted by doting on him.

Will took his fiancée’s hard member between his lips again, hollowing out his cheeks, resuming the previous suction movements.

‘Mi demolisci e ricostruisci con ogni singolo tocco, sei il mio tutto. Mio splendido ragazzo. Ti amo tanto.’

Italian flowed from Hannibal’s lips graciously, his pronunciation ever so flawless, even with his shortness of breath and the soft sounds of pleasure escaping his throat with every word spoken. He could understand most of it, a feat he had none other than his partner to thank for, who had been teaching him the language. The surge of affection and love coursing through his chest held an intensity enough to rival the power of a thousand suns, and for a brief moment, he thought he might explode. Holding Hannibal’s adoring gaze as he fell apart under his touch solely bolstered his imminent combustion.

And oh, those were beautiful words. Words he never even dared himself to dream of for the years that lasted their cat and mouse game. You demolish me and rebuild me with every single touch, you are my everything. My gorgeous boy. I love you so. If death was to strike him in that very moment, Will Graham (soon to be Will Lecter) would go a happy man.

If I die, you die too, he had told the doctor once, two or so months after they fell into the frigid Atlantic. Back then, they were cooped up in a cosy little bungalow in a quiet island in the Caribbean, allowing their bodies to heal from their injuries sustained in the fight against the Dragon and their subsequent fall. They sat together, side by side on a couch outside, watching the steady crashing of the waves, breathing in the sea. That was a moment of realisation for Will. It wasn’t a question, it wasn’t a confession, it was a statement, plain and simple. A statement of the truth. 

He had never loved anybody or anything before the way he loved Hannibal Lecter. The mere concept of being capable of nursing the raw, unbridled love and devotion he felt for the man was unattainable to Will before they met. And now, Will could not bear to live without it, to live without his other half. He had tried for three years, miserably. Every night, he would lay beside his former wife and try to stop his mind from drifting to the man waiting for him in a cell, with a muzzle over his mouth, but he couldn’t. On the days he did fall asleep, his dreams were filled with Hannibal; at times, a tall, horned monster with claw-like fingers, wrapping around his throat and reminding him where he was, and at other times, he would leave forever, and Will was unable to stop him, unable to scream his name.

Safe to say, for those three years, he did not do much sleeping.

He was foolish to believe he could ever run away from a man like Hannibal Lecter. That he could replace him with someone so mundane. No one could ever compare to Hannibal, not even God himself. Hannibal was above that. Above God, above the Heavens, above any and all. He ignited Will’s body, mind and spirit with a mere grazing touch, or a lingering gaze. The monster that beat inside Will’s chest trashed in want to be with Hannibal’s own, unsatisfied with every moment they were not pressed together in some shape of form, even if by a light brush of hands, or lips upon a forehead. Mates. That’s what they were. One and the same, perfectly made for each other in all their destructive beauty, never one without the other. 

That is true, dear Will, Hannibal had answered, warm pools of amber eyes boring into Will’s very soul. And if I die, you die too.

We won’t survive separation again.

So it was, so it is, and so it will be. Being separated from Hannibal would be to have his very soul ripped out from his body, and he knew his fiancée shared the sentiment. They would murder any and all standing in their way back to each other, or die trying. And a death suffered by hands other than each other's was heresy. It would not happen.

‘Please, my darling boy,’ Hannibal pleaded, fingers digging into Will’s mess of brown curls. ‘Please, please. Undo me, my heart, my love, mia vita-.’ 

He stuttered in his words, moaning languidly and hoarse. 

This was going to be the end of Will. Hannibal, with that sultry voice of his dripping with pleasure, with sweat glistening on his tan skin, with his strong, broad chest heaving with each gasp and ecstatic sound, with strands of golden and silver falling messily on his forehead, with his beautiful, noble facial features contorted in bliss, and hazel eyes boring into Will’s very soul, asking for permission to cum. It was too much. 

The younger man pulled away briefly from his fiancée’s cock with a lewd pop.

‘Cum for me, baby, and keep your eyes on me. Need to watch you,’ he conceded, at last, the use of the pet name Hannibal claimed to hate but melted every time it was spoken being intentional in its purpose of getting the other man to give himself in to Will.

With that, his mouth was back at Hannibal’s hard, leaking member, resuming the previous suction movements, humming and moaning. The fingers in his hair twisted hard as the doctor came with a cry for Will spilling from his lips. Warm liquid filled Will’s mouth and throat in waves, and when Hannibal held his head down and thrust into his lips, he moaned. 

Euphoria hit him right then and there, unexpectedly so. His eyes shut as it washed over him, lips still wrapped around his fiancée’s cock. The orgasm held enough intensity to send tremors coursing through his body, to whiten his vision, and for a moment, he saw Heaven; it had Hannibal’s honey-eyes, his blonde, soft hair with grey skins, and the protruding apples of his cheeks. Or perhaps it was Hell that he saw, because his beloved had black feathered wings and blood on his divinely sculpted place.

Hell was a much better place to be, anyhow. Hell was freeing. Hell was home. 

When Will opened his eyes again, he was met with his Devil staring at him, a soft, fond smile on his lovely pouty lips. There was a finger stroking his cheek gently. 

‘Hello, Will,’ Hannibal greeted, voice warm and loving.

He pulled off the older man’s cock with another pop, earning himself a hiss. Will allowed himself to be pulled upwards, onto his fiancée’s waiting lap. When Hannibal brought him in for a slow, sensual kiss, he yielded automatically. He had made a mess of himself inside the expensive grey pants, but he did not care. All he cared about was Hannibal; his touch, his scent, his tongue. Will guided his hands to rest at the older man’s shoulders, gripping with just enough intentional force to bruise. 

Marks were part of their demonstrations of love and worship, after all.

Begrudgingly, they broke apart, simply because they needed to breathe. Will thought it was absurd that they could not live off each other and nothing else. Nothing else was necessary. Sometimes he wondered what they could do if they were not bound by these suits of flesh—that was a very Hannibal thought, he realised. It made him smile.

‘What?’ asked his Il Mostro with a smile.

‘Just thinking about how sometimes I think like you. Sometimes I’ll have these very specific thoughts that are as well-articulated as your speech, and I wonder if you’ve not just found a way to whisper them inside my brain.’

Hannibal chuckled. He lifted a hand to brush chestnut curls away from Will’s forehead, letting his thumb stroke the scar there.

‘I can say the same myself. Often I hear your voice inside my head, even displaying some of your signature bluntness, speaking words which are so unlike me, and yet I would never usher it away. You did say we are conjoined once, darling. I believe that now more than ever. We are one.’ 

The blond man brought him down for another kiss. Will’s chest grew warm with his words, searing him from the inside out. Loving Hannibal Lecter was beautiful destruction.

‘I love you. You know that, don’t you? Love you more than anything,’ Will breathed. He kissed his fiancée’s forehead, nose, cheeks, then his lips.

‘As do I, mylimasis. Forevermore. In this life and in what may follow.’

[bells-of-black-sunday]

Something I have been talking about a lot on discord recently is how different modern Tarhos doesn't really view himself as a person a lot of the time.

Which makes him act so much different than his base verse who is just "If I don't consider myself a person that means they have broken me and I'd rather slit my own throat than let them win." For hopefully obvious reasons with how much he hates the systems he exists in to the point where he hates all nobility for purely the fact that they are nobility. Modern verse he's spent his life from the day hos mother tried to kill their family and almost succeeded he just happened to be the only one that woke up.

So when he spends all his life living in places he doesn't care for, because the foster care system isn't good at all (especially if you're afab) and as soon as he's out of it and in a group home trying to make something of himself he gets fed all these loes recruiters always tell. How he'll have all these nice things if he just serves for a number of years and that nearly killed him so many times, but one of the main things he picked up from that experience is that if you can't rely on whose next to you to be strong in the face of everything you really don't have anything.

He also picked up the idea that the only thing he's really good for is just being a wall for other people which is how he initially got into security. And both of those ideas are not only not true, but are also so harmful to himself as a person to the point where je doesn't feel like he has the right to talk to anyone about any of his issues. Robin only gets him to talk by getting him to talk about things that don't seem related until he's saying the quiet part out loud that he can pry at. Which is hard enough since he doesn't talk a lot to begin with and I think his reflection of his own self identity issues really show in how he dresses and carries himself.

In that he's not hurting for money and works for a pretty prestigious company that handles a lot of celebrities. He not only works security for Robin, but he's also worked it for Karth many times and I'm sure probably others. But... He wears old dress shirts/suits to woek and t-shirts you can buy in a pack of 5 for like 10$ and sweat pants at home, they don't fit well and they certainly don't make him look as good as he could. He also doesn't really do anything with his hair either, it's just pulled back and out of the way where it can't be pulled easy.

And once he actually starts to humanize himself and see himself as a person again he'll actually put in effort into his appearance. Haru will drag him out shopping, braid his hair, make him take care of his skin and scars and for once he'll actually keep up with it if only just to see the way he looks at him. But it will be a huge milestone eventually where with him looking better and happier and being more comfortable with pda and everything else, he will start acting more how he does in his normal verse just minus the dramatic nature of it and the sexualization of religion.

He'll look so pretty and probably a lot more approachable outside of work.

[percivalwriothesley]

CHARACTER STATS BELOW THE CUT.

𝐁𝐀𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐒

full  name  :  percival henry wriothesley.

meaning  :

percival :  Created by the 12th-century French poet Chrétien de Troyes for his poem Perceval, the Story of the Grail. Chrétien may have derived the name from Old French perce val "pierce the valley", or he may have based it loosely on the Welsh name Peredur .

henry : From the Germanic name Heimirich meaning "home ruler", composed of the elements heim "home" and rih "ruler". It was later commonly spelled Heinrich, with the spelling altered due to the influence of other Germanic names like Haganrich, in which the first element is hag "enclosure".

wriothesley :  The surname Wriothesley was first found in Staffordshire where the family name was first referenced in the year 1170 when Adam de Wrotteslega held estates in that shire.

pronunciation  :  p-ER-s-ih-v-uh-l hen-ree RYE-uths-lee

monikers  :  percy, pers.

title  : lord wriothesley of  southampton (  1532  -  current ).

age  :  twenty  seven.

gender  +  pronouns  :  trans male & he / him .

sexual  orientation  :  pansexual ( grey ) & panromantic ( grey ).

status  : lord wriothesley, companion and advisor to the king .

𝐁𝐀𝐂𝐊𝐆𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐃

date  of  birth  :  october 3rd,  1532.

place  of  birth  :  hampton court , the king's advisor's suites.

nationality  :  english.

religion  :  the church of england / protestant .

family  :  the wriothesley family of southampton, staffordshire & titchfield.

father  :  Thomas Wriothesley , Earl of Southampton, Baron Wriothesley. ( BORN 1505. )

mother  :  Jane Wriothesley , ( nee Cheney. )  ,  Countess of Southampton , Lady Courtesy . ( BORN: 1509. )

siblings: 

FIRST SON: Gideon Thomas Wriothesley .  (  BORN 1526 )

FIRST DAUGHTER: Matilda Wriothesley .  (  BORN 1528 )

SECOND DAUGHTER: Constance Wriothesley . ( BORN 1536 )

THIRD SON: Nathaniel Wriothesley . ( BORN 1538 )

FOURTH SON: Christopher Wriothesley . ( BORN 1538 )

THIRD DAUGHTER: Madeleine Wriothesley .  (  BORN  1540  )

marital  status  :  unengaged , with no broken engagements prior.

issue  :  none.

𝐏𝐇𝐘𝐒𝐈𝐂𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

faceclaim  :  Luke Pasqualino.

hair  :  Falling to the shoulder, thick and dark, a deep reddish brown.

eyes  :  Darker still than his hair, his eyes are almost black.

complexion  :  A deep olive, brought deeper by his time in the sun and outside pursuits.

height  : 6'0

build  : Mesomorph. While on the leaner side, he is toned and built up in muscle. Training focus more on athleticism, speed and stealth than strength, he holds most of his muscles in his arms due to archery and legs due to stamina training.

distinguishable  markings  or  scars  : nicks and cut scars around his body from jousts and training, including callouses on his palms and fingers. Otherwise, some freckling on his cheeks and nose, his hands and forearms, and a spattering of moles and birthmarks across his body.

scent  :  From a small pouch he keeps upon his person to mask his scent from hounds and remove the day's sweats, he carries a medley of herbs and wildflowers, including pine, rosemary and thyme.

𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒𝐎𝐍𝐀𝐋𝐈𝐓𝐘

dominant  hand  :  right.

zodiac  sign  :  libra sun, aquarius moon, libra rising.

mbti  :  intj-a

alignment  :  lawful neutral.

temperament  :  melancholic.

positive  traits  :  meticulous, eloquent, captivating, dutiful, loyal.

negative  traits  :  vitriolic , stoic , reticent , indulgent , possessive .

skills  or  hobbies  :  an accomplished hunter and archer, as well as trained in warcraft and swordsmanship. however, his true passions lay in the arts-- he plays both the flute and the lute. Enjoys the drawn arts , and often partakes in portraiture. Also reads literature and enjoys theatre and spoken word.

habits  :  Digging his fingernails into his palms to ground himself. Running his hands through his hair. Exhaling and huffing. Little 'looks' to notion humour, including raised brows.

[cheerstotheelites-if]

Super excited for all your wips! 👀👀

How do you render your drawings they look so cool!

*SWEATS* Mamser, I literally have no idea what I even do while I make art—

My rendering isn't that grand nor complex (and I don't think there is any rendering. They're mostly all just flats with barely any shading or lightning with this cartoony-anime mixed style), compared to other authors who also draw their character portraits for their IF's.

It's simple and workable, like my artstyle, and I don't think it'll get more complicated than that! If it works for me, then it works.

I don't have any big brain wisdom I can impart on you or for any other budding artists, because I'm no professional and is merely self taught, but I may have some personal ones:

Steal like an artist. Find something in someone else's artstyle that you really like and adapt that to your own! Artstyles are a personal mishmash of the artists you look up to, and not all are the same even if you and someone else may have the same artistic idols. This is different from tracing, however. I DO NOT encourage tracing over someone else's work and claiming it as your own. That is stealing, you utter criminal, and I will dropkick you if you do that.

Practice. Old wisdom, but it works and it's true. You don't become Bob Ross or Leonardo Da Vinci in a day after all. It's a struggle and it'll be frustrating, but I promise once you learn to draw the thing you finally want to draw, the high from reaching that achievement is absolutely real and so, so worth it.

References. If you think you can draw a sitting position freestyle from your brain, you're wrong, because when you look at a reference of that then at your sketch, you're gonna see a lot of mistakes in the anatomy, poses, perspective etc,. So, please, stockpile your references for every possible thing that you'll be drawing, because you'll absolutely need them.

Have fun. As artists we tend to compare our work to those who we think are better in the craft, when in reality we all are just trying to get better in what we do. Look, it doesn't matter if a 3 year old can recreate Mona Lisa in perfect detail, if you enjoy doing your work then that's already enough. I prefer to see "better" artists as inspirations to try and achieve more, not as some unachievable pedestal. You can achieve that too! May not be as quick as the rest, but you will get there in your own pace. Art is a journey, not a race. Take your time, learn what you want to learn, and have fun!

Experiment. You gotta if you wanna find out what stuff sticks with you and what doesn't. It also helps you find out a technique you might like for sketching, lineart, coloring etc., or if you just wanna get the hang of something first! OR if you wanna try out a new artstyle! Art is a science, in a way. A wonderful alchemy of color, wrist pains, and shrimp posture!

Also thank you for showing excitement for my WIPs, anon! I'm trying me best to work on all of them. You get a mwah from me. 😭💙💙💙

Free art from L? How scandalous! This is also just an excuse for me to ramble about my other characters amongst my 200+ bucket of them.

Some of these are old, but I just wanna share 'em for the funsies.

And, yes, the light blue haired, dark blue eyed lady in black and glasses and guy in a green parka with a resting bitch face are Carmen and Everest, Ophelia's older siblings. I also have Weylyn's older siblings, Bleddyn and Riekka, but I plan on reworking their design first. Why do I have so many redesign plans for so many characters.

1. Random character I drew for Religions Class last semester. I loved her design, so I kept her. No name yet, sadly 😭

2. Rival Agent Team in The Company. No names yet, though purple haired gal is named Agent Carrion. All of the designs and colors were from picrews, I just changed whatever was needed to suit my own preferences.

3. Lucian and Louise Dagohoy doing a clothes swap (2020). They're siblings I love dearly. They'll show up in an IF soon. I have big plans for them.

4. Carmen and Everest. Had this for months now, and I had no idea when to show it. Might refine their design a bit when I have the time.

5. Mint. Yes, her name is Mint. Not a Familiar, but a different kind of Fae entirely. Did this on my phone in 2019(?). I was bored at the time, and wanted to do a simple doodle, so I drew Mint about to eat a carrot.

6. - 7. MSPaint doodles from 2021, during a boring class if I remember. First one's Quentin the Monarch Fae king because it's been a while since I drew that man, then Louise. She's usually drawn happy all the time, but I wanted to make her sad, so I did. Not that hard to draw on MSPaint, really. Great for lineless practice because there are no layers.

8. - 10. Raphael, Gabriel and Michael Zealon. A pair of twins and an older brother. They have the old designs of High Court Angels (this was 2021), and their conversation was based on a tweet I saw on Twitter. Don't ask why. I'm too sleep deprived to answer.

And if you're wondering what art program I use, I either use MSPaint (when I'm bored) or FireAlpaca (for most of my works). The drawing tablet I use is a Huion H430p. It's smaller compared to the normal drawing tablet (H640p) of Huion, and it's as big as a standard notebook.

I would add 20 more art if I were on my laptop right now (and also because most of my art is stored there), but that'll be all for now.

[truereligionhoodie]

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[seokjinsdisciple]

forbidden fruit - part one

mark x reader (literally all smut and completely self-indulgent)

mark is the epitome of innocence. pastor’s son and good christian boy. can he be tempted by the forbidden fruit?

UNEDITED

if you see this and you know me. inreal life, no you didn’t 

word count: 3.8k (blame red wine me)

warnings: language, fingering, choking kinda? (mark chokes himself), mutual masturbation, mommy kink, handjob, sub mark, blowjob, mentions of virginity and religion, uh wet dreams, sex toys, probably more lmk what i missed

You had met Mark 3 years ago in your church’s youth group. You never really liked church if you were honest, finding the whole thing rather stupid. However, Mark made coming to church very worth it. He was your age, the pastor’s son and probably the most handsome boy in your small town. 

You spent your high school years pining after the boy. Your hormones were out of control and associating all horniness with his face. A real problem when you had to spend hours with him at church. 

You ran into him one day on your campus your freshman year, his face lighting up as the two of you made small talk. You talked pretty regularly after that, becoming closer than you had been before, and when the two of you moved in together you thought all of your wet dreams were about to come true. 

At least until Mark drunkenly confessed to you one night that he was “like totally a virgin, dude.” 

The two of you were giggling messes, too many bottles of empty soju surrounding where you sat on the floor. Mark’s cheeks were deep red seconds after the words came out of his mouth. 

“Yo, I can’t believe I just said that, omg,” he said, hands covering his face as his ears reddened. 

“It’s ok, Mark,” you giggled, pulling his hands off of his face, “I kinda figured you were.”

You hadn’t, but you didn’t want him to feel embarrassed, and you certainly didn’t want him to stop talking about it. 

“Really?” he asked, a hopeful look on his face, “are you too?”

“No,” you giggled, hands covering your own face now, Mark’s whine ringing out in your mostly empty living room. 

“This-uh,” Mark whispered, “Sorry if this is uh- a weird question and you totally don't have to answer if you don't want to dude, but what did it feel like?”

So you told him, you answered every question he had that night. And when the two of you drunkenly parted ways, it was with a stickiness between your legs and an obvious tent in his pants. And that was the start of your current relationship with Mark.

It had been awkward at first, after that night. But he had started asking you more and more questions. They started off innocently enough, like what kissing felt like. Yeah, he was that innocent. But the questions started getting more and more sexual, and it was getting harder and harder to control yourself around him. 

You found yourself starting off simply at first. Changing what you wore around the house. It began by you wearing shorter and shorter pj bottoms. And then by wearing tops that gradually increased in sheerness, until you started just wearing oversized t-shirts. Losing pieces of underwear as you went.

Yeah, you were trying to seduce him. But who could blame you? Mark was the center of your wet dreams, and he had been so since the start of 8th grade. So who were you to deny his request?

It had been a regular Tuesday, classes attended and dinner shared when a blushing Mark had turned to you on the couch. 

“Something has been happening to me,” he confessed, his bright pink cheeks enough to make you soften. 

“Are you ok?” you had asked, completely convinced that he had never approached any topic like this before with you. 

“It’s just-,” he started, glancing nervously to the clasped hands in his lap, “I’ve been thinking about all the answers you’ve given me about...sex and all that. And well everytime that happens, I get this...heat in my abdomen. And no matter what I can’t make it go away.”

“Mark-,” you breathed out, glancing swiftly down to where, sure enough, there was a tent in his pants, “Are you talking about being horny?”

“I don’t- I don’t know what you mean,” he whispered, flushing an (impossibly) deeper shade of pink. 

“Oh sweetheart,” you whispered, “Are you feeling the heat in your abdomen now?”

You smiled gently as he nodded shyly back at you. Encouraging him with your facial expression as you hummed in acknowledgement.

“This is called being horny, Mark.” you spoke, much more calmly and clearly than you thought possible because of the heat tickling your own lower half. “What do you normally do when you feel this way?”

“I-I don’t normally do anything,” Mark admitted, eyes flicking up to yours for just a moment before settling back to his own clasped hands, “I just try to distract myself until it goes away.”

“Oh you poor thing,” you whispered, drawing your hand up to Mark’s face and caressing it gently, “Have you ever made yourself cum, Mark?”

Mark looked up at you again, confusion on his brow as he shook his head, “I don’t know-know what you mean.”

“You’re such a sweet angel,” you said, “Would you like me to show you how you can make it go away?”

Mark’s eyes connected with yours, and finally, they stayed there. He looked deep in thought, but before you could rush to apologize and hurry back to your room, he spoke.

“You can make it go away?” he asked hesitantly, and god did you want to ruin him on the spot. Wrap your lips around him and make him curse the lord he so deeply believed in. But you held back. The last thing you wanted to do was scare him away. 

“I can show you,” you spoke slowly, “if you want me to.”

“I think I might like that,” he whispered, the bob of his adams apple making you grow damp between your thighs. There was just something about Mark that made you insatiably hungry. And not for a meal. 

You scooted closer to him on the couch, ignoring the thumping of your heart and the wetness between your legs as you spoke, “I’m gonna tell you what you need to do. And you’re gonna listen, aren't you, baby?”

Mark’s eyes widened as he gulped, but he still nodded his head. You felt a little bad for how nervous he seemed, considering how excited you were. 

“Are you sure you want to do this?” You asked, analyzing his face closely. When he nodded you just tutted at him, “I need words, Mark.”

“Yeah,” he spoke, “I really want to do this.”

“Okay,” you smiled gently at him, “I want you to start by letting your hands explore. Touch everywhere, slowly, and find what feels best for you, Mark.”

You watched intently as he slowly brought his hand up to his neck, letting his fingers hesitantly dance across his skin. His eyes shot to yours when he shuddered, unable to stop himself. 

“Is-is that good?” he asked, whining as he dropped his hand to his chest. 

“You’re doing so good, Mark,” you encouraged, hesitantly placing your hand on his thigh, “Is it ok if I touch you like this?”

Mark nodded so quickly you almost laughed, the blush dusting his cheeks almost as cute as the way he squirmed under your grasp. His breathing increased as you crept your fingers slowly up his thigh. You let your hand rest on his hip, splaying your fingers so close to his dick but so far away.

“You’re- you’re making it worse,” he stuttered out, letting out a shocked moan as his fingers brushed over his nipple.

“No, baby,” you smirked at him, “I’m making it better.”

Mark’s cock jumped in his sweats, his blush deepening as he let out another quiet moan, “I- I like it when you call me that.”

“Hmm,” you hummed, “I’m glad you like being called baby, it suits you.”

His breath hitched as you dipped a finger beneath the band of his sweats, letting it rest there. You smiled when his hands met yours, grabbing his pants and tugging them off. You almost moaned as his glistening red cock slapped his stomach. He hadn’t been wearing underwear. 

“What do I do now?” he whispered, eyes blown out with lust and hair perfectly tousled. 

You let your finger trail up to where a bead of precum rested on the head of his dick. You watched as his face scrunched in pleasure, breath knocked out of him as you swirled the wetness around the tip. 

“Make sure your hand is wet enough,” you said, spitting into your hand, smirking as Mark’s eyes shot open at the noise, flickering down to where your hand was hovering over his cock. 

You watched as he swallowed, his own fingers curling into the couch as he said, “Will you please touch me now?”

“How could I say no when my baby asks so nicely,” you said, eyes never leaving his face as you finally wrapped a hand around his length. 

Mark was a sight to behold. Sweat glistened on his forehead as you wrapped your hand tightly around his cock. The guttural moan he let out was enough to have you cumming in your pants, but you held strong. Well as strong as you could as he clung onto your form. You dragged your hand slowly up his length, thumb flicking over the head of his cock as he groaned into your shoulder. 

You felt on top of the world, Mark’s pleasure the direct response to every flick of your wrist. You barely recognized him. Whining, needy mess as he mewled into your shoulder. 

“Mo-mommy,” he whimpered, hands quickly finding your core, “Can I touch you too?”

Who were you to deny your polite boy, quickly and ungracefully shoving your panties to the side to give Mark an easier access to your heat. You’d be lying if you said the term mommy had no effect on you. In fact, you were dripping at this point, just one look at Mark enough to make your pussy throb in need. Not that you would tell him that. 

“Baby,” you said quietly, guiding Mark’s over-enthusiastic hand to your clit, “right here, keep rubbing in circles.”

“Yes, mommy,” he whimpered, shoving his reddened face into your shoulder as your wrist moved quicker up and down his length. 

“Good boy,” you groaned, squirming where you sat on the couch as Mark slipped a finger into your dripping cunt. 

You were getting each other off at an inhuman pace, the two of you squirming and wiggling where you sat. The pleasure of it all too much to take. This was Mark’s first time feeling any contact on his cock, and you’d be lying if you said you never dreamed of Mark’s fingers pumping into you at the pace they were now. 

This was the definition of a wet dream, for both of you. And as you came with his fingers reaching a place in you no one else had reached before, you were determined to make Mark cum. 

You flicked your thumb around the head of his cock, watching with half lidded eyes as he shuddered. He was putty in your hands, and there was no way in hell that he would ever be able to touch himself the way you were touching him now. And you didn’t care. The only thing you cared about in this moment was throwing him off the edge with you. Corrupting that sweet little church boy the only way you knew how. 

It was with a satisfying grin and an earth-shattering moan from Mark as you watched cum spurt from him. Eyes scrunched in pleasure as his entire body shook with a feeling he had never experienced before. An orgasm. 

You watched in wonder as he clung onto you. Sweat dripped from his forehead as he threw his head back on the couch. You watched as his cock twitched as rope after rope of cum sprung from him, years of pent up pleasure finally releasing at your hands. You had never felt more powerful in that moment. 

You parted that night with a sweet kiss to his lips after cleaning him up. Boneless Mark even more pliable than before, and as much as you hated yourself for it, you couldn’t stop thinking about what you could do to a sleepy Mark. That night there was no awkwardness between you. 

That, of course, changed as time passed, both of you ignoring the mutual pleasure you had achieved by the other's hand. You ignored any feelings you had, whether it be attraction or lust. Mark deliberately avoided you, and as much as you hated to admit it, but you avoided him too. 

You were convinced the two of you would never recover from this, from your experimentation with each other's bodies. At least until he burst into your room one Sunday afternoon, notably after his father’s church service, with a question and burning cheeks. 

“Have you ever given a blowjob?” he asked, the door to your bedroom swinging into the wall with a loud bang that neither of you could hear. 

“Mark?” you asked, putting your laptop to the side as you looked quizzically up at him.

“I watched one..porn video about it last week and I haven't been able to focus since.”

“You watch porn now?” you asked, raising a critical eyebrow as you looked him up and down.

“I-, no” Mark stuttered, face flushing an impossibly deeper shade of red, “yes, what about it?”

“You sound sure of yourself,” you teased, “come sit.”

“Never mind-”Mark rushed out, turning away from you and hurrying towards your open door. 

“Sit, Mark. Now please,” you spoke, dominance in your tone as you watched his body language change. 

You smiled softly to yourself as he shuffled to your bed, sitting on the edge and avoiding your gaze. 

“Did you have a question for me, baby?”

You almost laughed as he sighed, body immediately relaxing at the nickname he had told you he loved so much. 

“I was just wondering,” he said, glancing up at you and losing his confidence, “haveyouevergivenablowjob?”

“What was that? I couldn’t quite catch that, Mark,” you said, knowing glance as you watched his lips form into a perfect pout.

“Are you really gonna make me ask again,” he whispered, looking down from where his eyes previously met yours. 

“Yes, baby, I am.”

You grasped his hand as he whined, squeezing his palm slightly as he pouted up at you. 

“Have you ever given a blowjob?” he whispered, eyes glancing to every corner of the room to avoid your gaze. 

“I have.”

You couldn’t help but chuckle as his eyes met yours curiously. Fingers playing with your comforter as you watched the wheels turning in his brain. You were begging him to ask, practically groveling for him to say the words that would fuel the corruption kink you had solely for Mark. 

“Can you…” Mark started, scotting subconsciously closer to you, “can you give me one?”

“Well that depends on you, Mark. Do you think you deserve my mouth?”

You watched with bated breath as he nodded, a tent already fully formed in his pants as the conversation went on.

“What makes you think you deserve it, huh? You’ve been ignoring me for weeks, Mark. After Mommy made you feel so good. You ignored me, and now I find out you’ve been watching porn. Being such a naughty boy. Doesn’t really seem right to give you my mouth.”

You had him now, hook line and sinker. He was trapped, listening to every one of your words, waiting with bated breath as you made up your mind. 

“I- I’ve never felt it before, Mommy. I promise I’ll be better next time. I’ll do better next time. Just please suck me off,” he begged, filthy words dripping from his mouth in desperation. 

“I’m ruining you, Mark,” you whispered, “Absolutely destroying your sweet innocence. What about your God, Mark? Would he want you to beg for my mouth like you just did?”

“I-,” he started, quieting as you pushed a finger towards his lips. 

“It’s ok, baby. I’ll make you worship that God of yours in a way you didn’t even know was possible. 

You steadied his shaking body as you switched him places on your bed. Sitting in front of him in your disgustingly dirty pj top and messy bun as he laid in front of you. You tugged his pants down, licking your lips in want as his cock slapped his stomach. 

You wanted this just as much as he did, evident by your drool and dirty thoughts. You hadn’t noticed his sizable length before, too focused on all of the other unbelievable things that had happened before wrapping your hand around his cock. You took it all in now, the glory of Mark’s cock, pulsing red and so incredibly hard in need. If he hadn’t whimpered you would’ve stared at this beautiful sight for hours. But he was needy and so were you. So you wrapped your mouth around him. And dear God was Mark a sight to behold.

He had stars in his eyes as your tongue ran up the length of his cock. He could barely contain himself as his hips bucked up into your mouth. Politeness leaving his body as he followed his craving for pleasure. 

Within seconds his hands were in your hair. Tugging as you worked your mouth over his sensitive length. He was barely holding it together, and the second you reached the bottom of his cock, he cursed. 

His hips were itching to move, you could feel the way they bucked ever so slightly as you took him. Your hands grasped his thigh tightly as he unintentionally pushed your head down. You were taking as much as he gave you, and as he whined in pleasure you couldn’t help  A second later he wasn’t touching you anymore, eyes wide when you glanced up at him. 

“So-sorry,” he whispered, for what you weren’t sure. 

“What’s wrong, Mark?” you asked gently. 

“I should go,” he said, face paling as he scooted further away from you on the bed, “This isn’t right.”

You stood up quickly, sitting beside him and cupping his face in your hands, “Mark you can go if you want to, I won’t stop you. But do you really think something that felt so good could be bad?”

“I-I don’t know,” he whispered, shying away from your touch, “I’m going to the library.”

He stood up quickly, half tripping as he tried to pull his pants back up, fumbling with himself and the door as he tried to leave. 

“Mark,” you called out to him, waiting until he turned to meet your gaze before continuing, “It’s ok that you aren’t ready yet. But I’m always here if you have more questions.”

He nodded at you, “Thank you, for understanding,” blush returning to his cheeks as he spoke, “I feel comfortable around you, Yn.”

He closed the door after he left, and while your Sunday afternoon was spent attached to a vibrator, you were glad Mark had felt comfortable enough with you to tell you that he wasn’t comfortable. 

Maybe you had pushed him too far, and as much as it killed you, you were glad he was taking his time. If your baby wasn’t ready to go any further than handjobs, then that was that. He was too innocent to be corrupted, which is what made corrupting him all the better. 

Yes, Mark had been full of curiosity and questions. But you were the one who wasn’t ready for the question he asked next.

[worstloki]

The Sylvie Show

this got a bit long so i'm putting it under a cut but basically it's episode summaries of what i would do if the loki show had sylvie as the main character instead, since I do think the plot of the show would be better suited to be focused around her rather than 2012 loki. I've tried to keep it so that a lot of existing canon shots/sets/scenes can be reused.

episode 1: the show opens up with young Sylvie on Asgard. The TVA appear and drag her towards a temportal. She wakes up from the apparent nightmare, gasping heavily. cue title card and cool music. a portal opens within a church, sylvie interrupts the man giving a talk on religion, questioning what he's saying with roundabout logic and being generally witty, even managing to incorporate giving a bar of gum she had in a pocket to a child sitting on an aisle seat who is really happy about it. the man is still coming up with an answer to what she said when the doors of the church are broken open and TVA agents start to file in. Sylvie says "about time," and proceeds to have fun slaying the unit and stealing a tempad. She picks up the charge on her way out, sending a blow kiss to the devil mural on the wall on her way out. cut to stepping out of a temportal, throwing the charge behind her over a shoulder (it lands on a mattress) and taking a heavy seat in front of a set of screens which show the inside of a mall. the cameras are mostly empty and where there are people it does not fascinate her (one of them shows someone reloading shelves). she scrutinizes the screens, drumming fingers on the table, but quickly sighs and pulls out her tempad: it flashes with low battery and she rolls her eyes, throwing it into a bin filled with likewise empty devices. she's about to get up when the cameras show a group of agents walking into the store. among them is one with a jacket reading VARIANT in bright orange. "Sh*t," she says, getting up and going to the mattress, rifling through a pile of clothes on the floor next to it "sh*t sh*t sh*t where is it". She pulls out a dark brown jacket, and the camera pans over to the screens again, where the VARIANT turns: it's Loki. A golden portal opens on the beige walls of the TVA, Hunter C-20 stepping through holding a man in 1940s army uniform by the arm and dragging him towards a desk. the man protests but she places a grenade on the counter and tells the deskworker to log it. "it wasn't a dummy," is the explanation she gives. In the background a single guard steps through a portal, looking around and proceeding to the doors out of this room. It's Sylvie, and she walks alone past other guards and rooms labelled Court and Memory Chamber. A group of people run past her saying a variant is loose and she walks faster. She walks past one court room, catching the words "trust me, you can smell the cologne of two Tony Starks," but continues looking around. An analyst (Mobius) rounds the corner in the direction of the court rooms and seems to be in a hurry, and Sylvie takes a sharp turn opening the closest door to her to avoid being seen. She is in a room with a Sacred Timeline screen, and zeroes in on the man closest to her, "what are you--" she places a hand over his mouth and pushes him down into his desk area behind his trolley, shushing him. "Do you know where the Reset Charge Storage Chambers are?" "Why?" *deep breath* *serious face on* "Tell me where the storaGE CHAMBer iS or I'll GUT YOU like a goAT!" "is that... like a fish?" *confusion* "how do you not know what a goat is?!" she spots a poster on the wall with a location guide and pushes Casey away with a hand to the face. "Nevermind." - We see Loki monologuing "the idea that your little club decides the fate of trillions of people across all of existence at the behest of three space lizards, yes, it's funny. It's absurd." an agent walks past in the background pushing a trolley but no attention is brought to it "I thought you didn't like to talk," mobius says. Sylvie pushes a door reading "Storage: Units" open, but looks and finds bodies in little cyro pod chambers lined up. "wrong door," she says, and pulls the trolley across the hall to the door reading "Storage: Charges." She's in a room with shelves filled up with reset charges, and opens the trolley drawer to find it already filled up with useless junk like infinity stones and such. to which she has no reaction. She shoves all that stuff to the side and out of the drawer, making space to

carefully place reset charges there. She individually picks up the two Tesseracts in it though and admires them, saying they're shiny and placing them on lower shelves in the room instead of on the floor. While she loads up the trolley ("a few more should do it") Loki walks past the door in full TVA outfit, happy and carrying a stack of papers that read RAGNAROK in bright red letters. She closes the drawer, takes her Hunter helmet off to shake out her hair and wipe sweat from her forehead, then puts it back on, pushing the trolley towards the door. Mobius has a hand at Loki's back, guiding him out of the Memory Chamber, Loki has clearly been crying and Mobius comforts him "it won't be so bad, you love being useful. and wearing suits." Sylvie walks past, pushing the trolley in the background. Sylvie continues down the hall, and when she sees no one behind or in front she pulls out her tempad and opens a portal, pushing her trolley and herself through. She's already gone and misses Classic Loki with a collar around his neck being escorted through the hall. - Sylvie and her trolley push through the portal and are in a mall, the lights dim and flickering above. Thunder is heard and lightning strikes as she places a reset charge on a shelf, flicking open a panel on it's side, and then walking a bit further and placing another. "May I help you?" a store employee asks, startling her. She considers. "Actually..." and places a hand to the person's temple - it takes a few seconds of effort but her fingertips glow green, and so does the person's eyes and temple, "don't mind if you do." She walks away from the trolley in a rush, and the store worker behind places a reset charge on a shelf. "I'm a bit short on time," she says to herself, pulling out her Tempad. Suspenseful music as the screen fades to black. - Everything cuts to a desert, with a small town in the background. A portal appears high up, and Loki falls from it to the ground. the words "twelve miles east of Puento Antiguo" appear on screen, and we see Loki formed a small crater in the ground, reminiscent of Mjolnir and the one in Stark Tower. "Ow," Loki says, taking the muzzle off with one hand, and then pulling the cuff chains off. The dust settles around him and he's still extricating himself from the hole in the ground and groaning about sand being irritating and getting everywhere when a golden portal opens up (we get a high shot, showing that Loki did indeed land within a larger crater too). Loki puts his hands in the air. "Appears to be a standard sequence violation. Branch is growing at a stable rate and slope. Variant identified." "Beg your pardon but I--" "On behalf of the Time Variance Authority, I hereby arrest you for crimes against the Sacred Timeline." "I didn't meddle with time, that would be the Avengers." "You're coming with us." *agents point pruners at him* "It's been a long day, I'm afraid you'll have to make me." *loki's hands start to glow green but B-15 presses a button, freezing him in place. Any sand blowing in the wind or any dust rising has also now stopped. There is a bird stuck mid-flight. B-15 pulls out a collar and places it around his neck. An agent places a reset charge on the ground and activates it, it starts to fizz purple. Time unfreezes and B-15 drags Loki going "hey!" through a temportal, and it closes, leaving the audience to watch a few seconds of the charge going off and the radius of the charge increasing, washing the ground in a bright neon-ish light.

Episode 2: this one is a combination of the Loki episodes 1 and 2. Basically, Loki goes on trial, the TVA has no reason he's committed a crime, but Mobius who had been at the church crime scene saves him and takes him to the memory chamber to break. What gets him to stop acting as if he actually wanted to rule all of space and whatnot is Mobius bringing up the topic of choice in Avengers 1, and asking if Loki knew the mind stone was effecting him too, along with him explicitly asking about the torture which happened before, even during - he pulls up footage - the invasion. Mobius pulls up footage of Frigga and Loki pickpockets the collar remote etc. everything else remains the same, including most of episode 2, with Sylvie fighting to "I need a hero" etc, but C-20 is left behind after being enchanted. When the TVA show up C-20 is tied up hastily in leather belts and rope. She's mostly out of it saying stuff like "it's real, it's all real" but she also says "we're variants, we're all variants" which Mobius obviously brushes over casually. Loki narrows his eyes though, and says stepping out of the renaissance fair tent would have them winding up dead like the agents scattered around here, B-15 calls bluff and Mobius says to wait but the people walking in front of the ones holding C-20 up to take her to the TVA for medical help fall dead upon stepping out. Loki was stalling for time with the wold anecdote, and doesn't tell how he knew the death thing would happen ("I see a scheme, and in that scheme I see myself" "bullsh*t" "it's true. my reflection looks quite good, too." "you *sshole." *he smiles softly, as if t'were a compliment*), and everyone gets back by opening portals from within the tent. The dots between the gum and the apocalypses is drawn, they see Pompeii, end up going to Roxxcart, where we see Sylvie watching the screens, now in her leather gear. B-15 and Loki split up together, the guy at the 'hurricane sale' placed a charge on the shelf but no attention is drawn to that bc Loki and 'Loki' are talking. Sylvie emphasizes that she holds a grudge because he's a traitor, specifically for working for the TVA because they're "condescending time fascists." Loki assures her he knows, and that he's seen the charges around the place. She comes to the realization that he's been undercover/faking. We're shown Mobius and co. finding the room with screens but it's just got Sylvie's random junk, nothing really useful. They talk some more, no physical fighting but the vessel sizes get bigger and Loki calls it 'real mature'. While they still disagree on what to do with the Time Lizards (destroy or overthrow) Sylvie settles on leaving the portal open for him at the end and giving him a chance. She waits for him to go through first, with Loki looking back at Mobius meaningfully determined and then walking through.

Episode 3: Young sylvie is going through the stripping/signing/temporal aura process. She's sent into the court room. she bites and runs out of the room, putting distance before fiddling with the tempad she took, figuring it out, while Renslayer gets stuck answering the Judge. Sylvie appears back on Asgard, but there's already a Sylvie there playing with her toys. a TVA portal opens and she presses another "Asgard" on the device to escape quickly. "I just want to go home," she says to herself, appearing in the same room, but the child is a bit older (a teen?) and a boy and black and reading instead of playing but he's clearly also in green/gold and a loki. the kid turns after hearing her and she panicks and goes through another portal. another one with adult loki in the same room, she looks hopeful as if she could ask for help but then sif walks in with insults and slaps him but spots her. "who's the kid," sif asks and a portal opens up next to her. Agents step through and Sif punches one that does, asking Loki what trick this is now. Sif/Loki fight them while they're still coming through, sylvie presses another asgard but sees a knocked out agent has a tempad on his belt and takes it before running again. no loki in the room, it's empty, but a group of people rush across, talking hurriedly about 'the goddess of death' and 'odin's real heir' and 'thor and loki dead' and 'seeking refuge in the moutains.' Sylvie looks lost. Cue titlecard and cool music. They step into the TVA. Sylvie is determined, telling Loki to hurry because they won't have much time the TVA remains in disarray from the reset charges everywhere, but stops when he says he needs to get a weapon. "Why didn't you use magic to get some earlier," she asks. "Spares," he smiles, "magic doesn't work here after all." Sylvie notes that it explains her last attempts to infiltrate failing so badly. They fight some guards together on the way to the elevator rather than fighting each other. The elevator to the time keepers opens but Renslayer and a bunch of guards are in it waiting. Sylvie grabs Loki and tries to use him as a bargaining tool. Doesn't work, obviously, and Sylvie is shaken upon coming face to face with the same Hunter who had caught her as a kid, she doesn't react in time to stop Loki taking her tempad and dropping them somewhere. Same plot from here, the two of them fighting over the tempad, with Sylvie wanting to go back and Loki telling her they clearly already failed and she should explain what's going on first. She says she doesn't need to and if he wants to help defeat the TVA he needs to trust her and give the tempad back. He makes it vanish and she gets frustrated, asking if he gives up on everything that easily, and maybe that's why he's the first Loki she's seen working with the TVA. Etc. They need a power source anyway and get to the train hoping it'll lead to the ship that won't get off-planet anyway. Loki acts a fool Sylvie naps, wakes up to singing. Sylvie calls him out for not actually being drunk and also he downs a glass and offers her one, and when Sylvie asks how he's paying for it he says it's on the house and points to the barkeeper (male. we're implying/showing flirting. maybe a wink at him or a cute wave.). It's blatantly clear he's trying to get info on her backstory along the way and she's not falling for it but allowing him to know a bit of stuff. (eg. "I know everything is watered down ale for an Asgardian," "watered-down watered-down, more like. But you know of Asgard? Do go on...") She softens at hearing his backstory, and shares hers too. The people appear and ask to see their tickets, everything is the same from here forward. The episode ends with them watching the ship getting destroyed.

Episode 4: different music when sylvie and loki look into each others eyes since i didn't like that. cue titlecard and song after the TVA portals open on Lamentis. this episode remains the same mostly with Sylvie and Mobius driving the plot. No narcissist comment but Mobius gets to act jelly of what Sylvie and Loki have going on. Instead of it just being a bad memory loop with Sif we get her three times and then it alternates to Thor who is also angry. If he's not already down Thor will punch him (even though Loki is just happy to see him bc he didn't think he'd see him again--) and then tell him to hold still so it'll hurt less. It's framed as bad and Thor will imply it's only a fitting punishment. Thor is only shown twice, the first time the scene cuts at Loki being hit and held down, the second is Thor leaving the room, chuckling about how Loki didn't need to talk to anyone anyway bc he's alone, says he'll heal soon anyway. Loki isn't shown, but Thor's fingers have blood on them where they hold mjolnir. the loop resets and Loki is back to standing in the middle of the room and ghosts a hand over his mouth and then Mobius arrives. Loki calls the repeated memory boring and cruel, says he hates when Thor is drunk and feeling rash, with Mobius saying at least he didn't send him to Thanos or something and gave his crotch a break. Sylvie asks what her nexus event was and Renslayer doesn't remember. The end of the episode is the same, with Sylvie 1v1-ing Renslayer and beheading a Time Keeper, Loki getting pruned. The credit scene remains the same.

[jungcity]

𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞, 𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐧𝐚𝐥.

genre: romance, fantasy, erotica

au: fallen angel, reincarnation

pairing: jung jaehyun x female reader

note: This is a work of fiction. The portrayal of the celebrities included in this story does not reflect their true nature in real life. I am just using them as a way to bring life into the story and to give entertainment to readers. Concerning the plot which is about Lucifer, I do not— in any means— sympathize with the devil and I do not intend to offend any religion. Furthermore, I discourage you to continue reading if you feel uncomfortable with this type of stories. I’d appreciate it if you'll leave some feedbacks! Thank you so much!

“he was the worse of his kind—

dared the Almighty with

pride in his mind.

banished from heaven,

the infamous fallen.

the one you cannot tame;

lucifer, that is his name.”

Unable to process the words printed out in the sheet of paper that was in your hands, you stare dat your termination contract with dread slowly creeping up into your face. Maybe you want to scream or to cry– heck, you have no idea what to feel as yet another hindrance towards a stable life lay heavy in your palms. An exhausted exhale of breath escaped your lips as the realization hit you– you were indeed terminated by the management of the fast-food chain you were working on for the reason that they could not meet their quota anymore and they had to terminate some employees. Unfortunately, you are one of those workers.

You have witnessed as the same dread fell upon your co-workers while they skimmed the paper in their hands. The fast-food chain stood as your only means to support yourself and your sister, so you never once took it for granted and did your work diligently despite the low wages and the awful workplace it had offered. Now, you have to find another job or else you will surely die of hunger.

You do have a talent in arts, and you graduated with a fine arts degree. But life after college was beyond what you had expected when you were still studying. You had anticipated to have a stable job suited for your skills, but life did not go as you planned. Your mother fell sick and died a year after you graduated, leaving you and your sister all alone. From that day onwards, you became the modern Atlas who carried the world in your shoulders. Yet you couldn’t complain. And despite all of the hardships, you only felt the need to take care of your little sister even more.

You continued walking the side streets like a ragged doll being pulled sluggishly by whatever force there was, thinking of other ways to get by tomorrow. Being jobless wouldn’t be so hard if you didn’t have another mouth to feed. Your sister will be a freshman in college next year, and that’s the sole reason why you needed to work your butt off harder than before. And life isn’t really helping right now. So you grabbed your phone and rang your best friend’s number. She picked up after fifteen seconds.

“Hey, gorge—”

“I am jobless,” you greeted Soojin. There was a surprised ‘oh’ in the other line and you could imagine your best friend looking at you pitifully. It made you bite your lower lip to fight the urge to cry in front of the judging eyes of the city.

“Tell me, is there something I can do to help?”

“I don’t know what to do anymore. I am deep in fucking debt and Yuqi’s going to college soon. I couldn’t possibly pay for our rent with my current situation— oh. I am a mess!” You heaved a deep sigh, your chest constricting from all the emotions you were keeping locked up inside you. Different set of eyes were on you as you tried not to crumple in the side streets. There were adults giving you sympathetic looks and children almost laughing at you.

“Hey! Hey, Y/N! Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale!” You did as you were told. Gulping a large amount of air, you didn’t even bother how polluted it was now that you were in the heart of the town. You have to get a new job before you lose your mind.

“Okay, is everything calmer now?” Soojin asked.

“Yes. Yes,” you replied, still taking deep breaths.

“I could recommend a job, Y/N.”

Your ears perked up. “I’m listening.”

“But it wouldn’t be an easy one,” she sighed on the other line before continuing, “The job is right here in Jung’s Fiscals. Luckily for you, the former secretary of Mr. Jung decided to resign today; rumor has it that it’s because of the cold and ruthless demeanor of our CEO. I know you’re fit for the job because you’re one hell of a hard working bitch. However, I want you to give it a thought. Mr. Jung is not someone to mess with. Heck, he does not even—”

You replied before she even had the chance to finish her sentence, “I’ll take it. I’m really not in the position to say no to a job right now, am I? I badly need one so whatever the character of this Mr. Jung, I’d cooperate with him.”

You heard your best friend sigh in defeat. She knows you too well to try to stop you. So she simply directed you to prepare your resumé and other documents for the interview tomorrow.

“God! Thank you!” You kissed the mic of your phone as thanks to your best friend-slash-life savior.

You were too desperate to even think about her advice and the possibility of the CEO mistreating you. As long as there is money in your card to support your sister and food on your table, you are always ready to serve anyone— even if that person was forged straight from the womb of the devil.

All energetic and ready to take the challenge of the world again, you blew your friend one last kiss before ending the call and trudging towards the bus stop.

It was a night of simple ready-to-eat-ramen pack. Your sister had already known about your termination and currently feels bad that there is nothing she could do to help.

“It’s okay. Worry about school and nothing else, Yuqi,” you told her. The younger girl pouted her lips, reluctance clear on her face. “And I could not possibly let you work. We know enough not to overwork you.”

She has a weak stamina. Asthmatic since she was a kid, you never allowed her to do any part-time jobs for the fear that it would take a toll on her health. You couldn’t afford to lose the only relative you have, so every attempt of hers to help you boils down to nothing.

“I mean, who am I in this household? I don’t want to be a leech, sucking all your money and energy like that.” She scrunched up her nose.

“Yuqi, it’s my responsibility to take care of you. This is nothing, really.”

Even though you had almost lost your mind earlier thinking about the fact that you were indeed jobless, you tried to show your strong façade and smiled encouragingly to your sister. The least that you want right now is to worry her.

“Not to mention that you have to work in that wretched company– where the CEO is Jung Jaehyun. I’ve heard a lot of rumors about him, you know. They say he fucks—”

“Language, please,” you warned with a glare.

Yuqi rolled her eyes before continuing, “They say, he brings famous models into his penthouse every single night. And some say he does it even in his own office.” She talked while pointing her chopstick at you, munching her food deliciously like it was the best ramen she has ever tasted.

“Well, let’s be glad I am not a model then.” You shrugged. The both of you laughed.

She rambled about Jung Jaehyun the whole dinner with you, half-listening to her. Yuqi almost sounded like she was a fan and you seriously couldn’t grasp the need to be cautious towards Jung Jaehyun. You were hell-bent to impress him tomorrow that you refused to indulge yourself around the bad rumors circulating his name and well-being. All that matters to you is you are going to get that job, and you will do your best to stay in that office long enough to support your sister’s education.

This is the day where your fate is divided into two. You have a chance to make everything better for you and your sister, or you can prove that your life has been cursed and there is no more hope to rescue it from the depths of poverty.

The fate is in your hands and right now, your palms are sweating and your hands are trembling. Shaking your head and clearing your mind— with a determined heart— you trudge inside the thirty-story building of Jung’s Fiscals.

You were greeted by your best friend, Soojin. She was wearing a slightly loose pencil skirt paired with simple white polo sleeves. Her hair was styled into a neat bun, just like any other girl at the front desk. You have presumed that that would also be your hairstyle once you got the job.

“You got this,” Soojin mumbled as she led you towards the elevator. Unfortunately for you, she couldn’t accompany you all the way to Mr. Jung’s office for the reason that the building is buzzing with work and she couldn’t leave her position at the front desk for too long. You wave her a nervous goodbye before pushing the button on to the 28th floor.

There was really something about CEOs preferring to locate their offices on the top floor of their building. It was not like you mind, but you truly couldn’t believe that it really happens in real life. You once thought that they only appear in televisions.

Surrounded by the shiny metal covers of the elevator’s interior, you decided to check on your clothes and overall appearance. You have picked your best set of formal clothes for this day because you obviously wanted to impress the CEO and look presentable on your possible first day of work.

After a few minutes of standing alone inside the shiny elevator, it finally dinged and opened. You step outside, eyes roaming around the surroundings before taking a step forward. A nice and wide room greeted you as you walked through. The secretary’s table was made of polished wood, with the company’s logo engraved in gold. There were sets of black marble columns at the back and two comfortable armchairs in front of the secretary’s table to serve as a waiting area.

A woman, with the same bun as Soojin, stood up from her seat to greet you. Unlike your best friend, she was wearing a brown blazer that slightly hugged her waist and a fitted black dress underneath it. In your own opinion, she was too young to resign in this prestigious company. Which made your mind fall back into thinking that maybe the rumors were true– that the CEO, indeed, mistreats his employees.

“Good morning, Miss. Mr. Jung is ready to meet you.” She greeted with a slight bow. Her whole aura screamed professionalism. Something that you were not acquainted with— being a former waitress at a fast-food chain. All you had to do was take orders and smile and obey inquiries but you had never, ever, worked in a place where those aforementioned skills were almost nothing compared to the huge building that you were— hopefully— going to work in. Although, you suppose you have a bit of advantage when it comes to noting something and smiling. The only difference is that, rather than French fries and diet coke, you would have to take notes about meetings and business trips.

You breathed slowly, calming your nerves. The woman must have heard your heart thumping against your chest since she hesitated to open the door.

“Just be yourself, Miss. Do not worry too much. You’ll get through this.” She offered you a kind smile. You couldn’t help but think that she was accompanying you towards your own doom. You returned the smile even as you felt your lips wobble. A few inhales and exhales later, you told her you were ready. She slowly opened the door to Mr. Jung’s office and Jesus Christ— you thought you would collapse by the expansive space that greeted you in.

Typical CEO, he was obviously sitting on his swivel chair, the back of it facing you and the secretary. You have guessed he was looking at the spectacular view outside. The interior of his office wasn’t quite different from the secretary’s. Floor-to-ceiling glass windows that overlooked the skyscrapers and buzzing life outside. Light brown wood with grey walls surrounded you, partnered with black leather furniture. Hints of gold in the CEO’s table were also visible and there were minimalistic abstract paintings with the same hue as everything in the room.

Jung Jaehyun. CEO. — was printed on the glass plaque on top of his table.

“Leave us.” He said without turning his chair. The voice was deep and raspy— clean and masculine— the kind of voice from someone who knows he was in authority and that he owns the whole place.

Shivering, you almost begged the woman not to leave you with the predator sitting not two meters away from you. The secretary gave you an encouraging nod before turning on her heels and walking away. At the sound of the door clicking close, the swivel chair whirled.

You expected to see a grey-haired, middle-aged man to greet you. As a large company like this one, the CEO wouldn’t be as young as the man in front of you now. You tried to focus your breathing because fuck— the man is beyond gorgeous. It has been a while since you had encountered a creature as beautiful as him.

Hair, raven black against the white swivel chair that stood out in the whole room like a throne only for his to take, his lips were too red as a freshly plucked cherry against his pale skin— so white you could almost see the blues and the violets of his veins. And those eyes— the perfect dark brown; screams calmness after the storm and the rage of the hurricane fused together.

“Are you quite done staring?”

His voice shot you back to reality. You prayed to the saints that you hadn’t been drooling as you took in his whole features. If that was the case?You were absolutely doomed. Your chances of ever being hired beginning to thin.

“I… my apologies, Sir.” You bowed your head, suddenly confused as to why your body reacted that way. This is not a medieval fantasy where you were inclined to bow before the king, but the man in front of you exudes the energy of the likeliness of a monarch and it felt right to bow in front of him.

He didn’t answer. You could only assume that he was looking through your documents by the sound of the papers shuffling.

“Fine arts degree? To a waitress?” His words ended with a ‘hm?’. He almost sounded disgusted by your resume. It made the veins on your temple ticked but you really couldn’t blame him. The job that you landed on after graduating wasn’t really what you expected after those too many sleepless nights struggling to finish all your plates.

“And with this basic resume…” Your head automatically recovered from the bow and your eyes stared at him. He didn’t call your resume basic, right? But he did. It was crystal clear in your ears, ringing in your mind. And all your hopes of getting the job were gone in an instant. “… why should I hire you?” he finished.

His eyes were emotionless but his voice was taunting. Despite the insult of calling your resume basic, you smiled at him. It was your time to prove yourself and there was no stopping you now.

You cleared your throat, “Because I am a hard-working woman ready to give you her utmost effort—”

“You’re hired.” He simply declared with a wave of his hand.

You blinked, doubtful of the words that you have heard. “Sir?”

“You’re hired. Go and talk to Maggie about everything that you need to know,” he coldly stated, not looking at you but into his computer.

You could really jump from happiness, right in front of him. And you didn’t even care that he interrupted the speech which you practiced all night with the hopes to impress him. What truly matters is you got a new job not twenty-four-hours after you were terminated from that wretched fast-food chain. However, you wouldn’t provoke him to fire you on your first day so you remained calm.

“Thank you, Sir!”

Clasping your hands together was the only vessel you have to let go of a fraction of the happiness that you have felt. You turned on your heels with a smile that could reach your ears. But before you could open the door, he spoke again.

“Try harder when it comes to your clothes, next time. They don’t match mine.”

It was the best pair of formal clothes in your wardrobe. You inhaled sharply and faced him with the same smile, already not so fond of your newly-acclaimed boss.

“Alright, Sir. I understand.”

Then you dashed outside, instantly regretting being his secretary even before your job to serve him had begun.

The secretary, Maggie, introduced you your new workplace. She must’ve seen how happy you were when you departed Mr. Jung’s office that she automatically guided you towards the secretary’s table with a smile.

Her corner was neat, the folders clearly stacked on one end and notebooks at the side. The computer was placed on the right corner alongside the telephone. It was easy to move around since everything is in its place.

Then she guided you towards the pantry. It was decorated with the same brown, grey, black hues with a hint of gold accents. Adjacent to it is the meeting area, composed of the same black leather furniture and a glass table partnered with a minimalistic chandelier. Everything around you looks so expensive that you felt out of place all of a sudden.

“Mr. Jung wants his coffee a little bit warm in the morning. There’s a coffee maker ready, you just have to watch a few coffee making videos and you’re gonna be alright.” You shared a chuckle. It would seem as if Jung Jaehyun is meticulous when it comes to his coffee. So you mentally reminded yourself to watch some coffee making videos tonight.

“Sometimes he likes it cold. Plus, he usually drinks iced-americano. Easy to make,” she said with a wink.

Is working for Jung Jaehyun also requires you to be a barista? Cool.

“For his breakfast, you have to ask him every morning if he’d like to eat. More of the times he does not. And I think one of his personal pet peeves is when someone wastes food. So be careful about that.”

You listed everything she has told you, emphasizing the words ‘ask him’ to remind yourself not to impulsively make him food for there was no guarantee that he was going to eat.

“On the days that he wants to have breakfast, he usually likes to eat scrambled eggs with slices of bacon and don’t forget about the apples. He loves apples,” she exaggerated, “You just have to cut them in equal pieces or else he won’t eat them.”

Bringing a ruler with you won’t do any harm, right? So you listed it together with the reminders that Maggie informed you of. She continued walking you through the works that she does: from the emails that you need to go through to make sure no insignificant message would irate Mr. Jung, to her techniques in taking notes and arranging schedules for the boss.

“And there’s a proper uniform made for you,” she said while eyeing you from head to toe. But not in an insulting manner like what Jung Jaehyun did. Her scrutinizing was more on the calculating side. It would appear as though she was mentally analyzing your body size.

“On Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays– you will have to wear this same outfit as I am wearing.” By that, she means the dress and the brown blazer.

“Tuesdays, and Thursdays, you have to wear slacks the same color as this blazer. It’s paired with white silky polo sleeves. Nothing uncomfortable, don’t worry,” she chuckles. But your tongue wanted to ask whether you were going to buy your own set of clothes. The uniform looked so neat and expensive that by the lookds of it, surely you do not have the luxury to buy one. As if reading through your knitted brows, Maggie told you that all uniforms are provided by the company. Thank God.

“On Saturdays, you can wear anything you like. Just be mindful of it. Mr. Jung does not like it when his secretary—”

“Wears cheap clothing? And does not match with his?” You finished the sentence for her. It was the sentiment of the CEO before you exited his office.

Maggie’s lips was formed in a thin line, telling you to go along with it. “It’s not exactly like that. But you have to at least try to catch up to his fashion sense.”

Well— Jesus Christ— the man exhales the air of Balmain and Versace and you do not have the richest to afford a Chanel outfit to pair with him even if you sell your soul to the devil.

“Is that… really necessary?” You asked her, clearly agitated. If that was what the CEO wants, you would gladly go back and work in that cursed fast-food chain and wear the same uniform six days a week than thinking about robbing a famous clothing brands’ store every fucking day to match his highness’ clothes.

“Yes. But don’t worry. The clothes I wear every Saturdays were all thrifted. You just have to really dig every clothes to find a decent one.” She winked at you. You smiled at her nervously. You wouldn’t trust yourself thrifting clothes, simply because you do not have the patience for it. But your little sister, Yuqi, does. So you would have to trust her taste and maybe she wouldn’t feel so helpless anymore once you give her the task.

“That’s pretty much all you have to know,” Maggie declares while clasping her hands together. You suddenly felt the need to ask her the reason why she was resigning. But it seemed too personal to inquire. You shrugged and let the question die in your mind.

“How long have you been working here?” You asked instead. She smiled at you, looking around the place like she was reliving some kind of memories.

“I interned in this place when I was still in college. Mr. Jung applauded my performance so I decided to work here when I graduated. It’s been three years, to be exact.”

Jung Jaehyun must’ve been owning this empire at such a young age, based on Maggie’s story. He was the CEO when she was still in college until now. You wonder how old he was when he took this company.

“Mr. Jung’s must’ve been really young when he took over this company,” you voiced. Maggie nodded and told you she was impressed by how young yet clever Jung Jaehyun is to be managing a top company such as Jung’s Fiscals.

After a few minutes of small talk and reminders, Maggie bid you goodbye. Her things were all gathered and she was ready to go even before she walked you through the rules and reminders of the company. However, before she left, you asked the one question that you have been itching to know the answer to the very moment you walked out of Mr. Jung’s office.

“Is he… is he really terrible? Like in the rumors?” You know it was not pleasant to ask such things regarding your boss. But you need at least some warnings before you dive in headfirst to the trouble.

Maggie chuckled and you didn’t know if that was a good sign or not. “He doesn’t mistreat his employees. It’s more like, he doesn’t really care enough. I don’t know. He’s excellent in his field but he’s aloof towards everyone. Never really socializing and talking outside of business.” Maggie smiled and you hate to be the one to noticed it, but it seems like she adores Mr. Jung. With the possibility of romantic feelings bubbling beneath her weak facade.

Before you knew it, your tongue is rolling and asking the question you whispered only to yourself. “Do you like him?”

At your question, all the professionalism deteriorated from Maggie’s presence. She looked like a giddy thirteen-year-old lovesick teenager when she answered, “Who wouldn’t like him? The man is like, rich-rich. And that aura? That body? I’d let him spit on me.”

You were slightly disgusted by the latter but you were not going to argue that Jung Jaehyun is indeed the kind of man who could easily wreck you. Physically, mentally, and emotionally. He has that power in him and you know it the second you laid your eyes on that beautifully cruel face. Those eyes— oh boy— eyes that could make you feel alive but drown and capture you within the depths of them— yet his looks; looks that could almost kill. Men like him know their place, and that is above everyone else— including you.

Your first week went smoothly. There were new emails sent to Jung Jaehyun’s inbox that you need to check. There was also a telephone call, once, from a girl named Chaelin who wishes to visit Jaehyun once his schedule wasn’t too jampacked to bother. You silently asked your boss whether he would allow it, checking his schedules first before asking. He told you to insert Chaelin’s visit on one of his them. That made you wonder if she was one of those rumored models caught leaving Jaehyun’s penthouse and office. But you shook your mind off the thought. Clearly, you have no business wondering about those kinds of things. He is your boss and you are his secretary. You would never meddle in his personal life.

Maggie was right, Jung Jaehyun was indeed aloof. He eats alone and employees never really stay in his office longer than ten minutes. Maximum. And they would always come out with their hand on their chest, heaving a deep sigh. He didn’t welcome small talk and he was all about business. Slowly, you have grounded and reminded yourself exactly where your place was inside the office; and that is inside his territory, but out of his life.

It was easy to master the perfect taste of his coffee. And yes, you would admit, you almost collapsed on your knees when he first tasted your office-made americano. You even stayed for two minutes after he took a sip, hoping for some good comments but he just raised a brow at you. That was your cue to exit. Just like what Maggie reminded you, Jung Jaehyun does not eat breakfast often as a normal person would. But today, he finally ordered one.

Chaelin, who called you, finally arrived fifteen-minutes ago. If Jaehyun looked like a king, Chaelin was his queen — or so you assume. She carried the dominant female aura in her; ash grey hair, red lips, and red bottoms, with a 90’s silk dress hugging her body paired with a Chanel purse. Everything about her screams perfection. You were glad that she smiled softly towards you after you guided her towards Mr. Jung’s office; making you more comfortable in her presence instantly. Maybe that was why you were preparing breakfast for the duo.

The whole office is lonesome. The surrounding eerily silent with literally only the three of you on the whole floor. All you could hear was the crisp sound of the slices of bacon as you fry them, and the thud of the knife against the chopping board as you prepare his apples— fresh and pristine on the plate.

Everything was ready in twenty-five minutes. You placed the food on a clean tray before walking towards Mr. Jung’s office. Balancing all of it with your hip, you pushed the door slightly. The main office stood empty before you, but you heard their murmurs silently echoing from the meeting area that was adjacent to Mr. Jung’s office.

Reluctant to barge in without asking for their permission, your steps slowed. But Mr. Jung ordered for a breakfast today, he must have been hungry. You did not want to make him wait, or his visitor— so you inhaled and exhaled, continuing your walk towards the meeting area.

“So basically, this visit is to tell me to clean up your own mess?”

You heard Mr. Jung asked, contempt clear in his voice. It definitely felt like the conversation is not for anyone to hear. You hesitated in your position.

“This is not my mess. It’s theirs. How many times—” Chaelin was obviously frustrated by the tone of her voice. You heard a playful chuckle from your boss, interrupting the lady’s discourse.

“And how many times do I have to tell you that I. Do. Not. Give. A. Flying. Fuck.”

“Come on! You’re the only creature here on Earth who could do what needs to be done.” Chaelin sounded tired, worn out from the male’s large ego.

You were about to turn on your heel and walk away, the conversation clearly was between both of them alone, and you didn’t mean to eavesdrop. You were just torn between serving their food or walking away. You started doing the latter until Mr. Jung’s voice boomed in the whole office that you literally felt the plates in the tray shook.

“Who’s there?!”

You froze on your spot— and your breathing too. It wasn’t just a question. It was a scream of command to reveal yourself. You didn’t even know how he had known someone staying outside the meeting area. Before you could run away from the scene, you heard footsteps coming your way. You turned around to face your boss, you regretted doing so. He was looking at you with his emotionless eyes. And you felt a trickle ran down your spine as he continued walking towards you— grabbing your arms like he wanted to crush your bones. You were too shocked to even feel the pain but it was there, slowly slicing through your skin, certain it was going to leave a bruise.

“What did you hear?” He asked, rage evident in his voice. Chaelin was looking at the both of you, not enjoying the scene but also anticipating for your answer.

You squeezed your eyes shut because you couldn’t stand looking at his eyes as they seemed to burn you to ashes. “N-nothing, Sir.” You trembled.

He pinned you down with that same, deadly stare. His body only a tray away from yours, you could smell his spicy perfume mixing with the smell of portions of bacon and eggs. And his face, too close, so close he almost seemed familiar. He stared at you, not saying anything with his mouth but shooting you death threats with his eyes. You couldn’t stand it. Your knees began to wobble but before you could lose your balance, Chaelin decided to intrude.

“Jaehyun, let go of the girl. She’s telling the truth.”

His hand automatically slid away from your arms. He drew a frustrated sigh, running his hand through his raven-black hair. You let out a sigh of relief. But it was short-lived as he spoke with his toneless voice again.

“Get the fuck out of this room. Now.” His back facing you while he gripped the edge of the table.

You gathered all your strength, placing the tray on the small table two steps away from you. You were dumbfounded and beyond scared, you didn’t even bother to arrange their plates, you dashed towards the door like a contender in a marathon.

The moment the oak door closed behind you only did you allow yourself to breathe. It came out shaky. But surprisingly, there were no tears rolling down your cheeks. You simply clutched your chest; the pain in your arm numb because of your fear.

It was only your first week. Yet all you wanted to do was resign and get the hell out of the building.

With a glass of liquor in one hand, Jaehyun stared at the vast expanse of the city lights below from his penthouse; thinking that every twinkling light is his to conquer. He was always been fond of high grounds; it reminded him of his place before he was cast out of heaven and became the most infamous fallen in the history of mankind.

The fall. History had withered and repeated itself for millions of years. Yet he still could not forget how it felt like to fall into nothingness, with the gates of heaven closing in before his very eyes.

Did it hurt? The poets tried to ask the unknown; they bled ink trying to fathom the feelings of Lucifer when the Almighty and every angel declared him a traitor. Yet no poem had the exact metaphors to decipher his doom.

Did it hurt? Jaehyun sometimes asks himself the same question. Did it hurt when his wings started to smolder with fire as he plunged into the abyss of nothingness and into the Earth? Did it hurt when every bone in his body twisted and shattered as he landed into hard ground of a place too grave to be called heaven? Did it hurt when he was all bruises and blood and ill-fated to burn into the pits of hell? Just like the poets, Jaehyun has not found the metaphor to describe the feeling; but unlike them, he knew too well how it felt like.

He had lost count of the millennia that had past. He had lost count of his own age if he ever had one. The world made its inevitable change. And it continues to change, leaving him behind. Because he was still him; all wings and sins. Forever damned, forever unforgiven.

He was there when religion had been born, and he watched as the pious made different names to describe him; Prince of hell, the devil, Satan, the Fallen Angel. He watched them cursed him and condemned those who believed in him. And back then he realized that people were quick to describe and hate something they do not understand.

Kings and queens died. Kingdoms rose and fell, and he watched them all with obloquy in his face. Because he couldn’t believe that despite the spitefulness of humans against each other, the Almighty still loved them above all else.

They say he was destined to burn in hell, but his true punishment lay more grievous than being scorched alive. He pulled a locket out of his pocket with his too pale hands. Opening the little old golden thing, it didn’t fail to make his breath run wild every time he looked at the picture inside. The girl is smiling, the one thing she does not practice usually.

How many years has it been? He forgot the faces of his friends and of his enemies. Yet the one thing he could not forget is her ocean eyes and how her lips tasted salvation in his.

One hundred years, my love, he whispered.

One hundred years of her gone, and one hundred years of him keeping her closest to his aching heart despite the death that separates them both. And he would do everything to live; to keep her as his secret, to keep her alive in him.

That was when his thoughts weaved its way to you. A girl who has the ability to ruin everything he holds dear in his damned eternity. You might’ve heard things earlier; he wasn’t sure. The way your eyes looked at him frantically and how your body almost convulsed in his touch, he couldn’t explain why but he never wants to see that same reaction painted on your face again.

Drinking the last contents of his glass and with a touch of warning in his voice, he whispered your name against the miles that are separating you both. With the hopes that it would caress and remind you of the storm coming.

A mere mortal like you is nothing compared to his ancient greatness. Yet the thought of a human knowing his secret nagged in his system even if he didn’t want to. He couldn’t let you out his sight. Not tomorrow, not ever.

masterlist.

[azritesx3]

Coming Down - Lucifer & F!Reader

Anon: Hey I don't know if you do fics based on songs ( im kinda new here after suddenly thirsting for Lucifer— ) But I was wondering if you could a Lucifer x Reader based on ‘Coming Down’ by Halsey? Maybe this had been done, I don't really know. Nothing specific just whatever speaks to you if you do make this! Thank you!!

Description: You married a religious man to get away from the abusers. Who knew that he'd not only turn out to be one too, but that your savior would call himself the Devil and you agree to be his lover?

Rating: Mature Warning(s): Domestic Abuse, Implied Smut, Fluff, Angst, Angst but with a Happy Ending

AO3, FanfictionNet, Wattpad, DeviantArt

--------------------------------------------

Tighter and tighter. Cold hands on your throat.

"Why won't you just do what God made you for?!" John, your loving Christian husband, hisses. His hair falls in front of his face as he leans over you on the bed.

You claw at his hands. Your eyes begin to water. Cold sweat drops from his brow and falls into your agape mouth.

This was it. This was finally it.

"LAPD! Open the door!" John whips his head up, then snarls back down at you. He releases his hold and slaps you hard across the face, almost knocking you out.

Thinking he knocked you out.

You listen to him walk down the hall and open the door. There's chatter, and you hear people walking in. You hear footsteps coming back towards you.

"Excuse me sir, please don't go in the bedroom! My wife is sleeping." You hear John call out.

"Detective! A 'home search' is searching the entire home, correct?" A different voice calls out in the hall, a British voice. You don't hear it, but the British voice gets a reply, "As I thought. I shall ever be a gentleman around your wife."

"Please take no offense, sir. I was simply weary because-"

"Of my name, yes?" You hear footsteps enter the bedroom and the British voice becomes loud and clear, "Your decor taste is quite poor."

You listen intently as the new man looks around the space. His last stop is coming to your side of the bed. He doesn't look at you.

Please.

Before he leaves your sight you manage to grab hold of the man's finger. He stops and finally looks down at you. You pull on his finger and he kneels down to face you.

"Sir please-"

"Shut up." The man says to your husband. He stares at your face, taking in your red cheek, dry lips, and tear streaks.

You move your mouth, but your voice is too dry to make a sound. You mouth:

Help me.

"Detective! It seems the call in on violence was correct!" The man calls out. He stands and starts to gather you in his arms.

"Don't you dare-" John is cut off by a punch to the back of his neck and knees, making him fall face first on the floor.

"You're under arrest for domestic abuse." A woman's voice says. In the man's arms you see her cuff your husband.

You begin to cry again.

"Hey now, darling." Voice so soft. You look up at the man. His eyes are sparkling and his smile is comforting, "Rest now, dear. You're safe."

--------------------------------------------

"A toast, darling!" Lucifer cheers. He raises his wine glass and gives you a bright smile. You laugh and follow his lead, "To one marvelous year of being together!"

"And to being free!" You add in. Both of you cling your glasses together and take a sip. You begin to giggle causing a sly smile to pull across Lucifer's lips and a perfectly teased brow to raise, "Penny for your thoughts, my dear?"

You continue to giggle, "Oh, just thinking of the irony of all this."

"Oh?" Lucifer smiles and takes hold of your empty hand across the table. He kisses the top of it, "Do tell."

"Oh you know," you blush at his actions and smile joyfully, "Being abused by a Christian husband for many years, only to be saved by a man who calls himself the Devil and having a better life with him."

Lucifer chuckles softly, then turns your wrist to kiss your palm, "A beautiful irony indeed."

After the celebration dinner he takes you to his lavish hotel suite in Las Vegas, and enjoys the wonderful dessert between your legs. You sigh in bliss and relish in the pleasure, the feeling of real love. You thank God for sending you such a savior, even if he does claim to be the Devil.

No one's perfect, after all.

--------------------------------------------

It was true. Everything he said was true. He didn't lie, after all.

And now here you are, in a room that was now being swarmed with demon possessed dead humans.

They crowd around you and Lucifer, taking hold of you to pull you away from him. You scream and reach out to Lucifer. He stretches his arm too you, but the demons keep a strong hold against you. You watch his arm fall, and despite the shock on his face, you see a painful decision cross his eyes.

He turns from you and stands on the stage. He releases his full Devil form, causing his shirt to tear off. The demons around you stand frozen and look up to their King. You do the same, memorized by the scarred beauty.

"YOU DO NOT BELONG HERE. GO HOME!" Lucifer yells to them, and they listen. The bodies fall instantly.

You stay standing and just watch as Lucifer returns to his normal self. He studies your face. After regaining yourself tears well up in your eyes and you run up to him. He lifts you in his arms and cradles your body against his.

Back at the penthouse, after what you learned too late was one final night of passion, he tells you he loves you and returns to Hell to keep you, all of earth, safe.

--------------------------------------------

You've been a broken soul ever since that night.

Every day after sleepless nights you wake to see your Lightbringer's sun rise, and pray for his return. Every night you pray that when you wake it won't be alone. That he'll be with you once more to watch his star rise together.

Years pass. The prayers don't work.

You now lay in a hospital bed, not very old but with a heart so broken it can't last any longer. You and Lucifer's friends surround your death bed, and cry when you let your heart shatter completely.

You wake in a sort of limbo space, in a queue with other dead souls. You teleport to the front of the line and are in the presence of the Angel of Death.

She looks at you somber, "You died far too early."

You stare back at the angel, "I couldn't take it any longer."

The angel nods, "You're destined for Heaven-"

"No!" You interrupt her, "No, please. He cannot be with me there! Please, send me to Hell instead!"

She looks confused, "But you are guilty of nothing. You'd be tortured for nothing."

"Being without him even in death would be torture itself." The angel studies you. Then looks up where a blinding light shines down on her. She closes her eyes and seems to listen to the light.

The light disappears, and she looks back at you, "Very well."

The next moment you are in a dark, hot space. Around you are stone black pillars with doors etched into them. Some doors were chained up, some unlocked but shook from inside.

"Y/N?"

Your breath hitches at your name being called by the voice you loved and missed so much. You look behind you to see Lucifer in the same suit he wore when he left, but he looked older in the eyes. Hell affects every being.

You run and embrace him. He returns the embrace hesitantly, "You shouldn't be here, love."

"I cannot be in a place without you anymore, Lucifer." You move back slightly so you can look him in the eyes. Your tearful eyes shine with joy and you smile at him, "You are my savior. The one I made into my own personal religion." You cup his now tear streaked face, "I love you, Lucifer Morningstar."

He embraces you back with just as much passion and kisses you passionately. He then buries his head in your neck, "I love you too, Y/N, and I've missed you terribly."

You scratch the back of his neck lightly and whisper, "So, you're not angry that I chose to be here?"

He laughs in your neck, something he hasn't done in thousands of years, "Are you kidding?" He removes himself from you and smiles while getting down on one knee, "I have my Queen with me again. How could I be mad over that?"

You laugh in joy and tackle him to the cold, yet hot, cracked ground. You both stay like that. Crying and laughing together at your eternal partnership.

[urmomsstuntdouble]

more skater au

Annelise peered out the window, drumming her fingers against the steering wheel. Skaters leaned against the chain link fence, clustered in small groups, with one doing a little trick every now and then. She scanned the skate park once more, and looked down at her crystal watch. Julchen was still absent from view. Annelise brought a hand to her head and massaged her temples, growling to herself- Fortunately no one was close enough to hear. But still! Where was that girl? She was going to be late to her own band practice! 

Annelise took another glance across the park, but once again, Julchen was nowhere. Annelise sent her a quick text. Julia. I’m here in the car. Where are you? She looked up in time to witness a tall-looking, muscular woman roll past her car. Annelise blinked, Julchen’s tardiness forgotten. God, she thought, as the woman stepped off her board. Perhaps the true religion was strong thighs. 

The woman hopped off her board, and tucked a piece of hair behind her ear. She approached a group of skaters, and another woman of a similar build pulled her into a headlock. The second woman nuzzled her fist into the strong legged, dreadfully attractive one, and laughed. If Annelise had any say in the matter- Which she didn't- she would’ve taken a comb that hair. It was unruly, and sort of cute, but needed to be better cared for. 

The women disentangled from each other, and went on talking. Annelise’s phone buzzed, though she didn't notice. She was too busy staring, and feeling gayer than she had in quite some time. Her mouth fell open as she watched the woman laugh, toss her head back and clutch her stomach with one hand. She looked like summer. 

Her phone buzzed again, and again, as if someone was calling her. She took one last glance at the stranger, drinking in her appearance, and looked down at her phone. Oh, it was Julchen. Hm. She’d anticipated a text, but any contact was good, Annelise supposed. She answered the phone. 

“Anna, baby!” Julchen crowed. Her voice was harsh on the ears. 

“Julchen. Where are you?” 

“I’m at the skatepark, what do you mean?” 

“Check the time, you cretin.” Silence. Annelise looked down at her watch once again, and rolled her eyes. Julchen’s band practice started in five minutes, and the location was a fifteen minute drive away. 

“Oh, yeah, I already told Kiku I wasn't gonna make it on time. He said it was cool.” Annelise rolled her eyes. 

“I don't care what Kiku thinks,” She growled, “I care that you wasted my time!” 

“Woah, way to speak your mind, Anna. I think you should care what Kiku thinks-” 

“Well, I don’t right now!” Annelise shouted. She was overreacting, but her car was in the sun, and she was sweating, and it was so hard not to peek out the window at that beautiful woman- 

“It’s okay,” Julchen said, voice melting like fondue. “You good, Anna?” 

“I’m fine,” Annelise said, pinching the bridge of her nose. God, Julchen was insufferable. Why she ever felt anything for that girl, she’d never know. “Can you please come here? Now? I’m next to the entrance.” 

“Yeah, I’ll be right there,” Julchen said, “Kisses!” She made a loud smooching noise, and hung up. Annelise rolled her eyes again. Julchen would absolutely not be right there. Not for lack of trying, though- A few weeks ago, Julchen took a bad fall, destroying her right knee in the process. Torn ACL, patella shattered, the whole nine yards. Annelise held her hand through the reconstructive surgery. Now she relied on crutches to get around and pretended her knee brace didn't exist. The crutches, unfortunately, were a great impediment to Julchen’s speed. But whatever, she said she’d be right there. Annelise lasted three minutes before she got out of the car and stalked towards the nearest group of skaters. It happened to include that gorgeous woman she’d ogled earlier, but who was counting?  

“Do any of you happen to know where I could find Julia Beilshmidt?” Silence fell upon the group, and it took Annelise about five seconds to regret her choice. She was out of place, in terms of fashion and physical activity. There were five skaters before her, and they filled out their clothes, to say the least. Especially the woman she’d been looking at earlier. Her shorts hugged her thighs, tighter around her hips, and Annelise was fairly certain she had pierced nipples. There was a chain attached to her belt loops, for Christ’s sake! Annelise could never wear such a thing. 

“Julchen? Yeah, she’s here,” Said the Extremely Attractive Woman. “Why’d you need to know?” Annelise looked up, meeting her eyes. And what beautiful eyes they were…But she needed to find Julchen, not admire pretty girls.

“I’m her roommate,” She said, biting her lip. “I’m here to take her to band practice, since she can't drive right now.” 

“Oh, yeah, the band. Are you in it?” The woman asked, and Annelise shook her head. She wasn't sure how that was a question. Her sleeves were frilled, and Julchens had been cut off long ago.

“No,” She said, finally. Instead of replying, the other woman nodded with a half smile on her face. How was one supposed to react in this situation? “Anyway,” Annelise cleared her throat, “Do you know where she is?” 

“Oh, right,” The woman said, “Yeah, she’s back here.” She slinked out of the circle, and motioned for Annelise to follow her. Annelise stepped back, exiting the circle, and stumbled as she followed the woman with laughter at her heels. Heat prickled at the back of her neck and down her spine. Maybe it was the slight incline, but Annelise was sweating more than usual. Or maybe it was that the woman held her board under one arm, at a position which highlighted her forearm. 

Her forearm was tan, a bit darker than her upper arm, and more freckled. Tiny hairs gave her skin a fluffy halo. Despite her muscular build, her body still looked soft. And her hair- Gorgeous, curly and dark, slipping from a low bun. Annelise could imagine running her fingers through it under the soft light of her bedside lamp. You don’t even know her name, said her rational side. But she’s built like Julchen, said another, And you know what Julchen can do. Annelise tried to push the thoughts out of her head. And failed. This woman was exactly her type, and had a cute face. A round nose, not quite button shaped, and deep, brown eyes…Oh wait no, those brown eyes were looking right back at her. Fuck. 

“Not to interrupt your staring, but I don't think you mentioned your name,” the woman said. Annelise set her eyes forward as her cheeks burned. What a- hm! 

“It’s Annelise.” 

“Hm. I think Julchen’s mentioned you before. I’m Isabela.” Isabela. That was a nice name. 

“Nice to meet you,” Annelise said out of politeness. She was more sidetracked with wondering what exactly Julchen had said about her. 

“You too, babe.” Babe- It had been quite a while since anyone called her babe. Annelise shivered, and chose to blame the heat behind her cheeks on the sun. 

“Babe, already?” Annelise chuckled, electing to flirt back. “Bit- Bit forward isn't it?” Isabela chucked back and God, Julchen was gonna be so late to band practice. Annelise wasn't paying attention to where they were going anywhere. They’d passed the main area of the skate park, and now followed a dilapidated chain link fence toward a Port-A-Potty. 

“I disagree,” Isabela sniffed, “I think babe suits you.” 

“Oh?” Annelise said, her breath catching in her throat. “I happen to like the way you say it.” Isabela gave a soft laugh, and cast Annelise a sideways look. 

“What are you trying to say there, Annelise?” Isabela asked, 

“Oh, just admiring your accent. Where might you be from?” That hadn't been at the top of her mind, but it never hurt to ask. Perhaps she could later make a pass about wishing to visit Isabela’s home. Isabela cast her a smirk, one eyebrow raised. Without warning, she came to a stop. Annelise swung herself around, grinding her pivot foot into the ground, in an effort to appear that she knew what she was doing. 

“Spain,” Isabela said, and turned towards the chain link fence. She looped her fingers into a hole near the top, and pulled towards herself. “What about you?”

“I was born in Vienna,” Annelise said, “What are you doing?” 

“Oh, uh,” She grunted, peeling back the fence from the frame. “This is the easiest way to get to where Julchen is.” Oh, right. Julchen. Annelise had been a tad preoccupied as they walked. Not that she’d forgotten about Julchen. She was a wonderful friend, thank you very much. 

“And where might she be?” 

“Uh,” Isabela said, “Back there?” She gestured towards the dead shrubs behind the fence. Annelise wrinkled her nose- Isabela wanted her to walk through that? No thank you. 

“Oh.” 

“I promise it’s not that bad. There’s, like, a spot where people hang out. You can't see it from here, but it’s not far,” Isabela said, “Mind holding my board for a sec?” She thrust her board into Annelise’s hands before she could agree. “Thanks, babe.” 

“I didn't agree to this,” Annelise pointed out, clenching her fingers around the board. 

“Well, you’re holding it now, so. Yeah,” Isabela said. She shrugged, and pulled the fence back even further, then extended her left leg through the gap. God, her legs. How could one woman be such a distraction? Moreover, how could one woman have such good legs? Her quadriceps were defined, the separation between muscles showing as she transferred weight onto the outstretched leg. She ducked under the frame, and pulled herself through the hole, then released the chain links. They bounced back up, but did not meet the frame. Isabela turned away, and stepped towards the shrubs. 

Annelise glanced down at Isabela’s board. The bottom was visible to her, revealing several flowers painted in an impasto style- Quite beautifully, too. It must’ve required a strong hand- Had Isabela done them herself? She didn't seem the type. 

“Uh, Annelise?” She jerked her head up. Isabela leaned against the fence from the other side, using a foot to hold the gap open. 

“Yes?” 

“Are you coming?” 

“Oh, yes! Apologies, dear, I was admiring your board,” Annelise said, hurrying over to the fence.

“Thanks!” Isabela said, “You like the flowers? I did ‘em myself. They’re chunky, you see-” 

“I do see,” Annelise said, “Your technique is good, and the color palate is…interesting. Though I must say, it looks better than I would expect, had I known you painted.” 

“Thank you? I think?” Isabela said, “Are you trying to say I’m a bad painter?” Heat filled Annelise’s cheeks once again- Yes, she had been implying that, but only a little.

“N-No, dear, quite the opposite.” 

“Okay,” Isabela said, amused, “So are you coming or what?” Annelise sighed, and crouched down to crawl through the hole in the fence. Before she had to touch any dirt, however, she heard a raucous laugh. She and Isabela looked up to see Julchen emerging from the brush. She hobbled on one crutch, with one arm slung around another woman Annelise vaguely recognized- Catherine, perhaps?

“Oh, hey Julchen,” Isabela said, “What’s up?” 

“Hey Bela!” Julchen screeched, “I’m on my way out, gotta go to band practice- Oh, Anna, how ya doing?” 

“You’re five minutes late to your band practice, Julia!” Annelise shouted, raising her wristwatch. “And we haven’t even left yet!” 

“Okay, chill,” Julchen said, “Practice doesn't start til I walk in anyway.” Catherine rolled her eyes. 

“God, you’re insufferable,” She muttered, though she maintained a tight grip around Julchen’s waist. 

“You were singing a different tune when-” 

“Shut up!” Catherine shrieked, cheeks darkening, “Go- Go to your fucking band practice or whatever.” 

“Mmkay, babe,” Julchen said, and untangled herself from Catherine’s grip. She stumbled off to the side, but caught herself on her crutch. 

“Where’s your other crutch?” Annelise asked, “If you lost it and we have to buy another one-”

“I didn't lose it, it’s just- Look by the fence. On Isabela’s side- Yeah, near your feet-” Julchen guided Isabela as she bent down to search for the missing crutch. In doing so, the loose bit of fence she’d bent over bounced back into place. Annelise managed to jump back in time to avoid being hit. A yelp left her mouth, and she readied a scathing critique of Isabela, though her words died on her tongue. She clutched the board to her chest as Isabela bent down, searching for the crutch. The look of determination on her face was too much. After a few minutes of rummaging in dead leaves, Isabela came up with a crutch. 

“A ha!” She shouted, raising it in the air. “I have found your walking stick, m’lady!” 

“Thank you, m’lady!” Julchen crowed, and attempted a curtsey, but tipped over. And now Annelise could criticise them both again. 

“If you’re done,” She spoke up, “Our agenda does not have time for your hooligan behavior.” 

“Aww, you know you love me,” Julchen said, struggling to her feet. Annelise rolled her eyes, glaring, as Julchen crossed back to the right side of the fence. It was slow going, since she was still learning how to move without her knee, but she managed. 

“Come along now,” Annelise said, and they speedwalked back to her car. Isabela and Catherine argued behind them, though she didn't pay attention. 

“Wait, what if I used Isabela’s board,” Julchen panted, heaving herself forward. 

“Absolutely not,” Annelise said, “Skating is what put you on crutches in the first place, I’ll not allow it.” 

“I’m just saying,” Julchen said, as they approached the main area of the skate park. “If you, like, sat me down on the board, and I, like, crossed my legs or whatever, it would be way faster than if I-” 

“Explain how you plan on crossing your legs.” 

“Fair point, but you’ve gotta admit it would be faster,” Julchen said, and she was correct, though not looking at the full picture. Doing that sounded like an excellent way to further damage the rest of her leg, and Annelise told her so. Julchen rolled her eyes, and the argument would’ve continued further had they not reached the car. Annelise unlocked it, still holding Isabela’s board under her arm, and helped Julchen into the passenger seat. As she walked around to the driver’s side of the car, Isabela approached her once again. 

“Hey there,” She said, and fuck.

“Hello,” Annelise said, “I’d love to stay and speak with you, but we must be going.” 

“Oh, yeah, totally. Just, uh, you still have my board.” Annelise looked down, and yes, she did. She’d been so focussed on Julchen that she’d forgotten. 

“My apologies,” She said, and extended the board towards Isabela. 

“Don't worry about it,” Isabela said, taking it with both hands. Their fingers brushed as she handed it over. Annelise felt her eyes drawn to Isabela’s, and they held eye contact for a moment. Who knew brown eyes could be so deep and beautiful? 

“Uh, anyway,” Isabela said, “You- You had to go, didn't you?” Annelise nodded, gazing down. 

“Unfortunately, yes.” 

“Unfortunate? Why?” Isabela purred, raising an eyebrow. “Is it-”

“No reason,” Annelise shouted, overcorrecting, “I’ve gotta go. Nice meeting you!” She stumbled in her effort to make a speedy turn, and ran to the car. She got in, slamming the door after herself, and buckled in with clumsy fingers. 

“What was that?” Julchen asked, a note of amusement in her voice. 

“Shut up,” Annelise said. Before Julchen could retort, something tapped at the window behind Annelise, and she jumped at the surprise. Annelise swiveled her head around, and oh, it was Isabela, tapping at the glass. 

“Should I lower the window?” She asked, and Julchen only laughed. Annelise lowered the window. 

“Can I help you?” She asked, and Isabela smiled. She had dimples. Nice.

“Yeah, do you have a pen?” Annelise looked down at her purse, resting between the front seats, and rummaged around in it for a moment before withdrawing a pen. 

“Will this do?” She tapped her foot against the brake.

“That’s perfect, thank you,” Isabela said, and took not the pen, but Annelise’s hand. She drew it out from the car, holding tight. Annelise gasped at the contact, and squeezed a little tighter around the pen. Shit, when had she last held someone’s hand- Well, the hand of someone who was awake and sober. 

Isabela uncapped the pen with her teeth, and held onto it with her lips. Annelise tipped her head forward, eyes caught on those lips. Isabela rotated her forearm such that the soft, inner arm faced the sky. She began to write on Annelise's skin, the movement of the pen tickling slightly. Annelise kept her eyes on her face, watching her brow furrow in concentration. It took her a long moment to finish. Once she concluded her writing, Isabela capped the pen and pressed it back into Annelise's hand. 

“Hit me up,” She said with a wink, and pressed a kiss to Annelise’s knuckles before skipping away. Julchen cackled and Annelise groaned, putting the window back up. 

“What- What the fuck-” Julchen heaved, “I can't, you’re so awkward-” 

“I will stop driving you places if you keep going with that thought,” Annelise growled. Her entire body burned. She was not in the mood to be mocked- It was just attraction, albeit to one of Julchen’s friends. 

“No, please,” Julchen said, wiping a tear, “I’m- You’re so fucking funny, Anna- Isabela? She’s the one who floats your boat?” 

“Shut. Up,” Annelise growled again. She put her hands on the wheel, and sped away, cutting Julchen off. As they drove, she rolled her arm to peek at what Isabela had written. She couldn't help but grin at the little smiling flower drawn next to the number. Perhaps Julchen’s tardiness could be good for something after all.

art

[prolestariwrites]

Open For Me [4]

Fandom: Devil May Cry Characters: Vergil/Reader Tags: Explicit sexual content, First time, First love, Violence, Death, Implied dubcon, Implied drug-induced sex Rating: M Part: 4 of 5

Summary: Vergil's life has been difficult as far back as he can remember, until he meets a young woman who saves his life. Can she save it again when he learns the truth of who he is, and bring him back from a dark and dangerous fate? A five-part story of pre- and post-canon Vergil.

A/N: Content warning for dubcon and drug reference.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Oh but that's the irony, broken people are not fragile. —Clinton Sammy Jr.

Vergil scowls as he walks down the street, pulling his hood up over his head. The day is warm and sunny, the streets of Fortuna crowded as people go about their business. But he does not enjoy the weather or appreciate the peaceful atmosphere. Instead, he stalks forward, trying not to be noticed as he heads back towards the inn. He ignores the people that walk by, uncaring that any might or might not offer a glance. Vergil has spent his life trying to be invisible; this is proving to be a help now, when he wants to be alone.

Lost in thought, he only glances up to check street signs as he maneuvers through the center of the town. His hand slips into his pocket to wrap around the piece of paper inside with Arkham's number, knowing that he is waiting for his call. Something about that makes his blood boil; he imagines Arkham's smug look when Vergil confirms that yes, everything he told him has been proven true. His father, Sparda, had been a powerful lord in this region, and now revered as a god among these people, who call themselves the Order.

He had spent much of the past two days visiting the holy sites and prowling through the library, looking at statues and walking through the museum. Fortuna is a mix of religion and government, with the legend of Sparda at the heart of it all. Vergil had stared up at one particularly large monument to Sparda, frowning as he tried to remember his father's face. He certainly hadn't had the two huge horns that jutted out from his brow and twisted downwards.

Vergil finds the entire thing strange, to be honest. He is proud to know his father had such an impact and was still revered to this day, even though he hadn't been seen in Fortuna for hundreds of years. But it only opens more questions, like what he had been doing when he had met Eva, why he had left, and where he is now.

He reaches the Fortuna Inn but hesitates in the lobby. Vergil doesn't want to go upstairs and be forced to make his phone call, so he takes a quick detour to the little bar off to the side. He sits in the last stool and orders a brandy when the bartender places a napkin in front of him. The dark liquid tastes good despite the little burn, and Vergil sags, bowing his head.

Vergil stares at his hands, a feeling of cold washing over him. The skin is itchy and raw from soap; he had taken to washing them obsessively in the past week, ever since he had killed Nell Goldstein.

Not Nell. That human. Easier to think that way, not a person with a life and a family that calls to check on her and a girl at home with school the next day. Just a person, a thing standing in the way of his answers and hurling accusations, that hides the truth of his past and favors his brother. The most annoying thing about humans is how dirty they are, filled with blood that is hard to get out of fabric. There were stains on the cuffs of his jacket that took hours of scrubbing to be rid of, and his hands smelled of gasoline for days. No matter how much soap and hot water he used, Vergil could not get rid of it all, which is why he had not gone home to you after leaving Red Grave City.

He thinks of you now as he finishes off his drink, wondering what you are doing, wondering if you're worried or angry or noticed him gone at all. He fiddles with the change in his pocket for a moment, considering a call. Is he ready to answer your questions? Definitely not.

Someone slips into the stool next to him before he notices, his eyes snapping up when a flirtatious voice says, "Hello, sir."

Vergil frowns. She is wearing a very old-fashioned dress the color of strawberries, but her face is covered with a white shawl. "Not interested," he huffs.

"I'm sorry." She pulls the covering away, revealing dark blonde hair and dark eyes. Her smile is sweet, but curious, and to his annoyance she leans in. "I should introduce myself."

"Don't bother." He leans back a bit and signals the bartender.

The drink arrives and the woman slides a bill across the counter. "It's on me," she murmurs, her eyes glancing his way through the thick lashes.

If she wants to waste her money, fine. Vergil picks up the drink and takes a sip, but when he lowers his hand she plucks it from him and sets it on the counter. "Now that we're friends, shall we get better acquainted?"

"I don't know who you are—"

"But I know who you are." She tilts her head and smiles almost shyly, and Vergil frowns. Her hand presses to his forearm, and she stretches towards him until her lips are next to his ear. "Son of Sparda."

Vergil jerks backward, his mouth popping open in shock. "How do you—"

"I could tell as soon as I saw you in the street." She smiles again, rubbing her thumb against the fabric of his coat. "We have been waiting for our lord's return for centuries. Do you suppose your presence in this city would go unnoticed?"

"Who's 'we'?" Vergil growls. "The Order?"

"No," she laughs with a toss of her hair. "Those men are fools who play with things they could never understand. May the fates help us if they got their hands on any actual power." Her other hand now presses to his thigh, and Vergil stiffens as he looks down to see her fingers massaging his leg. "But there are some of us who are the true believers. The true disciples of Sparda."

Vergil presses his lips together tightly. "What is it you want?"

She eases back on her chair, sitting prettily. "Finish your drink. Then we can go somewhere private so I can explain everything."

With a nod he reaches for his glass, drinking the last of the brandy with one gulp. The woman slides from her stool and Vergil follows suit, walking through the bar and into the lobby, towards the elevator. They ride together upwards, and he takes the time to examine her closely. The woman stares straight ahead, her face serene. She is beautiful certainly, but Vergil can't help in that moment but to think of you, and what you would say knowing he is taking her back to his room. It's just to talk, he thinks, but his vision starts to swim a bit as a sweat breaks out on his brow.

The elevator stops with a jolt that makes him stumble. "This way," Vergil says, leading her towards his room. He feels lightheaded now, and after fumbling with the key he is grateful when they are inside. Quickly he removes his coat and goes to the thermostat, adjusting the temperature so the room is blasted with cold. His stomach turns in the stale air, and Vergil sits heavily in the lone chair in the room.

The woman watches him closely, standing by the door with her hands clasped. "Say your business and go," he rasps, finding it hard to breathe.

"Are you alright?" she murmurs. The woman steps closer, and as Vergil watches his vision goes double.

Two hands press to his face, and Vergil sighs. He knows that touch, and he presses into one palm as the fingers stroke his cheek. "I've missed you," he admits. "There's so much I wanted to tell you. But I was afraid."

"Tell me now," you whisper.

Your voice is different, but Vergil barely notices. He tilts his face up and feels the brush of cool lips against his feverish ones.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

Vergil wakes with a gasp. His brow is drenched with sweat that drips into his eyes and his heart pounds too fast. Immediately his stomach turns, and he rolls from the bed and stumbles towards the washroom. He barely makes it before he collapses over the toilet, emptying the contents of his stomach until there is nothing but cramps remaining.

He sits back against the wall to catch his breath, pressing a hand to his forehead. Never once has been sick in his life: no colds, no flu, no childhood chickenpox. This is the first time he has ever vomited, and it leaves him shaking and confused. How much did he have to drink?

Cautiously he pushes himself to stand, holding steady to the sink as he waits for his legs to stop shaking. Once he is sure he can move he rinses his mouth and splashes cool water on his face. His skin feels hot and tight, and he tries to remember when he started to feel sick. He is in Fortuna, Vergil is certain of that much, and had returned to the inn to call Arkham. Did he do that yet? Was that yesterday?

Vergil walks back to the bedroom and stops. The room is in disarray, the bedsheets pulled from the mattress as if he had been thrashing in his sleep. The drawers are open, as well as the closet door, even his coat in a heap on the floor; then when he looks down, he realizes he is naked. None of this makes sense: he prefers the room to be neat, things put away. And he would never sleep without clothes, unless it is after a night of lovemaking with you, holding your body close against his.

Was he robbed? Was someone here? How is this possible?

He swallows thickly as his eyes fall on Yamato sitting on the desk. Quickly he moves to dress and gather his things, ignoring the nausea that still threatens as he shoves clothes into his bag and checks that Arkham's number is still in his coat pocket. Once he is ready Vergil leaves, knowing that whatever has happened to him in Fortuna, it is not anything he wants to revisit again.

⋆﹥━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━﹤⋆

When the door of your apartment opens, you nearly drop your coffee. "Vergil?" you gasp, and when he walks inside you give a cry and run to him, throwing your arms around his shoulders.

Seeing him is overwhelming, and for a minute or two you squeeze him close, afraid this is a dream, or he will disappear as suddenly as he had before. You press your face to his neck, breathing him in, his hair a bit longer as you drag your fingers through the strands, his frame feeling a bit thinner. Vergil stands stiffly for a long moment before his arm wraps around you cautiously, and a fresh wave of tears fall when he begins to relax in your arms.

"Where have you been?" you whisper. "You've been gone for weeks, no word, where…? What…?"

There are so many questions, but his mouth falls on yours and they fall away. He walks you backward, the thud of his bag dropping to the floor and the clang of the sword echoing in the apartment. He kisses you furiously, like a dying man who has found water, until you reach the bed and he climbs over you.

His hands are hot and insistent as they pull at your clothes, and you are the same, a fire igniting at having him back, and here in your arms. Soon you are both naked and he is grinding against you, his cock thick and familiar as it presses against your thigh. Vergil sucks on a nipple as you arch into him, and he drags his fingers along your thigh until he grabs your backside, yanking you upwards so your sex is flush with his. He enters you slowly, as if savoring the act, finding your mouth and covering it with his. "Open," he gasps, jerking his hips. "Open for me."

You obey. How can you not? The pace is brutal, your cries met with each snap of his hips. You dig your fingers into his shoulders, a tear sliding down your cheek as you cling to him. Vergil puffs against your shoulder, driving his cock into you as if chasing something, or running, you can't tell which.

Your legs wrap around him as his arms wrap around your back, and together you move as if two halves of a perfect whole. When his lips suck on your neck his cock hits a spot inside your body that has you shaking, and suddenly your orgasm crests, the coil inside snapping and making you arch with a cry. Vergil is relentless, fucking you hard, and as your arms fall away weakly he lifts himself on his palms to pump his hips. You watch in a mixture of awe and surrender as his body works over yours, his face twisted in passion, his muscles tight and straining. When he comes, his chokes out a curse, and you tighten around his cock, welcoming the hot rush of seed that fills you.

Vergil hangs his head, panting, and you reach up to cup his face. Usually he'll press into your touch, kissing the heel of your hand or leaving a little love bite. But this time he almost shrinks away from you, moving off quickly to leave you laying on the bed as he sits on the edge and grabs his pants.

You sit up, sliding to lay your hands on his back. Vergil stills, and you press a kiss between his shoulder blades. "Vergil?" you say quietly, your voice shaking a bit. "Can you tell me what's going on? Where you've been?" He doesn't answer, and you lean your forehead to his back, tense under your touch. "I don't know what you're doing, but I can help… or at least understand… I've missed you, and there's so much I've wanted to tell you…"

He sucks in a breath and stands, and you blink up at him, startled. "You wouldn't understand," he says without looking. "Do not ask."

The blood drains from your face as you watch him open a drawer, pulling out a fresh shirt. "No, Vergil," you say through gritted teeth. You pull the bedsheet around your body as he glances over, and anger flares sudden and hot. "You can't do this!" you cry. "You can't leave for weeks and come back and… and just expect me to be okay with this!"

"I'm not expecting that," he says coolly.

"Tell me where the fuck you've been!" you shout. He ignores you and moves to the closet, and you jump up, following him and grabbing his arm. "Don't ignore me, god damn it! I love you!"

Vergil swallows, but does not meet your furious gaze. "That is your mistake, not mine."

Your eyes burn as a sob catches in your throat. "So that, just now… that was nothing? I'm nothing to you?"

"I didn't say that."

"Then what are you saying?"

Vergil huffs an impatient breath. "It's too complicated to explain. I'm—"

But you aren't listening, because now that you are examining him you pull down the collar of his shirt, your eyes widening at the mark on his neck. "What is that?" you hiss, feeling lightheaded. "Who did that? Are you cheating on me?"

Vergil jerks away as if burned, stepping around you. "I need to go."

"No!" Nearly wild now, you grab his arm and tug hard. He tries to shrug you off, but you hold tightly, gripping his shirt to hold him tightly. "Tell me the truth!"

Vergil's expression is furious when he looks down at you, and you dig your fingers into his shirt in response. "Ever since you met that Arkham, and you got that fucking sword… you've changed, Vergil! You lied to me about your past, and won't tell me where you're going, and you…" Your hand slides down his chest before pressing to his stomach, and you remember the wounds he had that night he came home late, and how they had seemed to heal before your eyes. "What are you?" you whisper, blinking back tears.

Your eyes slowly lift to his face. Instead of fury or hurt or the love you've always seen behind his eyes, he looks at you without emotion. "You would cry over me?" he says, but his tone is sharp. "Over a prince of demons?"

"What?" you gasp, shaking your head.

He rounds on you, walking slowly and forcing you back. "There are things you cannot begin to understand. Things a human like you could not comprehend. I have found my destiny, and your tears will not stop me from taking what is mine."

Your legs bump against the bed, and you press your hands to his chest to keep yourself from falling. "Vergil…? What…" It's all so confusing, your mind spinning with his words. It makes no sense, but all you can see is the coldness in his expression and the memory of those wounds.

"I need strength. Power. And you are weak." He lifts his chin and a shiver goes through you. "This is for the best. Perhaps one day you'll understand, although I doubt it, a human like you."

He steps away, and you watch in shock as he packs his bag, stunned into silence. Vergil walks to the door and pulls on his coat before slinging his bag on his shoulder. When he leans down to pick up his sword, you find your voice, and call his name. "Vergil…?"

It comes out as an odd twist, and for a split second, you can tell that he hesitates. But he does not turn around and leaves the apartment, the door shutting with a firm slam behind him.

[sosei]

Commentaries on the Epigraphs of Rhythm of War - Part 2

The second set of epigraphs are a letter from an individual I shall call “Discord” here in the non-spoiler section. The letter is almost certainly addressed to Hoid and contains some of this wider implications for the cosmere I mentioned in part 1.

I will not be avoiding spoilers for RoW, or any other cosmere works published as of December 2020.

"Dear Wanderer, I did receive your latest communication. Please forgive formality on my part, as we have not met in person. I feel new to this role, despite my years holding it. You will admit to my relative youth, I think."

We start off by virtually telling the reader who is writing from not just the information contained in these few sentences, but how they are phrased. The big giveaways are:

The writer’s relative youth in their role (as a divinity, which we know from the rest of the letter’s contents)

The “I think” at the end of the sentence, which is part of how the character in question expresses themselves.

It is clear that this letter is from Sazed, a major character in the Mistborn series who ascended to godhood after the events of the first trilogy. They also appeared in some Oathbringer’s epigraphs. This is after the first trilogy, but before the era 2 books in the Mistborn series. When I said this book was going in hard on the Mistborn stuff, I wasn’t kidding.

An interesting bit is that I am pretty certain Sazed has met Hoid, as he helped the surviving terrispeople move to the central dominance in The Well of Ascension. I know he was in disguise at the time, so either they or I am mistaken. Either way its not that big of a deal.

"I have been fascinated to discover how much you’ve accomplished on Scadrial without me noticing your presence. How is it that you hide from Shards so well?"

"I have reached out to the others as you requested, and have received a variety of responses."

"Much as you indicate, there is a division among the other Shards I would not have anticipated."

The other gods of the cosmere are very scattered, both physically and otherwise. We’ve guessed this, but its good to have confirmation.

"Endowment at least responded to my overtures, though I have not been able to locate Invention again following our initial contact."

Endowment is the Shard making their home on Nalthis, the world on which Warbreaker takes place. They seem alright so I understand their responding. Invention however, has not been mentioned before.

"Whimsy was not terribly useful, and Mercy worries me. I do think that Valor is reasonable, and suggest you approach her again. It has been too long, in her estimation, since your last conversation."

All three Shards mentioned here are new. Sazed’s opinion on Mercy is interesting and I look forward to seeing what that implies later. Valor is likely going to be an important figure later, so looking forward to seeing her!

"The deaths of both Devotion and Dominion trouble me greatly, as I had not realized this immense power we held was something that could be broken in such a way. On my world, the power always gathered and sought a new Vessel."

Dominion and Devotion, as well as their deaths, have been brought up before in previous Stormlight books. Their deaths are what caused the cataclysm leading into the events of Elantris.

"That said, the most worrying thing I discovered in this was the wound upon the Spiritual Realm where Ambition, Mercy, and Odium clashed—and Ambition was destroyed. The effects on the planet Threnody have been … disturbing."

There is one published short story on Threnody, and oh boy do I agree with Sazed’s assessment there.

"Other Shards I cannot identify, and are hidden to me. I fear that their influence encroaches upon my world, yet I am locked into a strange inability because of the opposed powers I hold."

This likely refers to the mysterious “Trell” that becomes important in the Era 2 books. Whom I (and other) strongly suspect is Autonomy, though revelations in this book has lead me to suspect Odium’s involvement as well. If less directly.

"I have begun searching for a pathway out of this conundrum by seeking the ideal person to act on my behalf. Someone who embodies both Preservation and Ruin. A … sword, you might say, who can both protect and kill."

If there was any doubt who is writing this, it has disappeared now. I’ve spoken before on how Sazed’s choosing of the name “Harmony” may have been a touch too aspirational, which paired with the Terris Prophecies naming them “Discord” has lead to me calling him that instead.

The implication of these words here, when paired with the events of era 2, leads me to believe they are attempting to mold Wax into someone who can act on other worlds for him. Either though making him their champion, their avatar or even a more suited vessel for the Shard’s conflicting intent.

"But this does not get to the core of your letter. I have encouraged those who would speak to me to heed your warnings, but all seem content to ignore Odium for the time being. In their opinion, he is no threat as long as he remains confined in the Rosharan system."

"I do not share their attitude. If you can, as you suppose, maintain Odium’s prison for now, it would give us necessary time to plan. This is a threat beyond the capacity of one Shard to face."

The other Shards’ lack of interest in dealing with the situation is concerning. If understandable, given that Odium has killed several other Shards already.

"Unfortunately, as proven by my own situation, the combination of Shards is not always a path to greater power."

Again, hammering in on Preservation and Ruin’s conflicting intents, and the likely part of the reason Odium didn’t take his fallen enemies’ shards for himself. Though interestingly, in Preservation and Ruin’s case, they needed to work together to create. And as Harmony, Discord, whatever you want to call them, Sazed has access to that power of creation.

"We must assume that Odium has realized this, and is seeking a singular, terrible goal: the destruction—and somehow Splintering or otherwise making impotent—of all Shards other than him."

"To combine powers would change and distort who Odium is. So instead of absorbing others, he destroys them. Since we are all essentially infinite, he needs no more power. Destroying and Splintering the other Shards would leave Odium as the sole god, unchanged and uncorrupted by other influences."

Basically confirming what I said above about Odium.

"You say that the power itself must be treated as separate in our minds from the Vessel who controls it."

"I find this difficult to do on an intrinsic level, as although I am neither Ruin nor Preservation, they make up me."

While this is true to an extent, you can say the same of any dichotomy. But I suppose Sazed’s mortal life as a scholar of Scadrian religions, a lot of which involve pantheons of two opposite gods, influences his worldview here.

"Regardless, I will try to do as you suggest. However, you seem more afraid of the Vessel. I warn you that this is a flaw in your understanding."

Hoid knew Rayse before he took up Odium, and did not have a high opinion of the man before he merged with God’s Divine Wrath. I doubt becoming concentrated divine malice has improved his attitude.

"You have not felt what I have. You have not known what I have. You rejected that chance—and wisely, I think."

Nothing like attaining divinity to realize that you probably shouldn’t want to attain divinity.

"However, though you think not as a mortal, you are their kin. The power of Odium’s Shard is more dangerous than the mind behind it. Particularly since any Investiture seems to gain a will of its own when not controlled."

Hm, this is setup for what happens towards the end of the book isn’t it? As well as a mention of high concentrations of investiture attaining sentience. Like spren, or Nightblood.

"My instincts say that the power of Odium is not being controlled well. The Vessel will be adapted to the power’s will. And after this long, if Odium is still seeking to destroy, then it is because of the power."

Yeah, definitely setup. Later appearances of Odium in this book shows Rayse falling apart after his personal plans failing.

"Of course, I admit this is a small quibble. A difference of semantics more than anything."

Ever diplomatic, ey Saze?

"In truth, it would be a combination of a Vessel’s craftiness and the power’s Intent that we should fear most."

<sweats in Taravangian>

"Regardless, please make yourself known to me when you travel my lands. It is distressing that you think you need to move in the shadows."

I am like, 85% sure he hides bc Kell would find him and kick his ass if he didn’t. The remaining 15% is knowing what other Shards would do if they learned he was on their worlds.

[ditzbaby1]

naruto characters as animal crossing tropes

naruto : a dog character but for some reason is orange and looks like a fox. runs through your flowers and wears pixel shades, has shit lying all along the ground.

sasuke : called his town hyrule and called his character zelda even tho his character is dressed like link. probably gold furniture and a gaming room with all the hacked NES games. probably wishes he can send letters to his in game mom.

sakura : time travels so that she can breed flowers while simultaneously growing more weeds. will restart her town for a whole week until she is offered the perfect map, with cherries, a heart shaped pond and marshal and raymond as her starter villagers. Expects nothing else than 100 NMTs and 10 Million Bells when selling a villager. only has played acnh.

shikamaru : never feeds his villagers and has messy hair and roaches all up in his floor cuz he's the type to think animal crossing is a girl game or sum. Only plays on holidays then doesn't touch the game for months.

ino : puts cleavage on her designed clothes and has Gracie (the alexander wang of animal crossing) sweating. Regal furniture or gorgeous furniture. possible animal crossing sugar daddy

choji : actually enjoys the game at his own pace and is constantly having people over. Cancels and reports you on twitter if you step on his flowers and probably wears those ugly ass anime girl glasses.

shino : wears the round shades or HMD shades and for some reason his basement is furnished as a drug dealer. sells weeds on nookazon for 5 NMT a pop. loaded with a completely upgraded house. All his trees are money trees.

hinata : cries when a villager is mad at her cuz she forgot to fulfill a request and sends an apology letter. cries when they leave. leaves her house as it is after 2 upgrades. cottage core slut. ignores your text cuz she is talking to wolfgang. has a knitting basket somewhere in her house

kiba : jock dog character that snorts protein powder and the only place to sit is a toilet next to a watermelon table. gives you stationary after delivering his item. weeds and fished up trash are his only town decorations. never heard of the golden watering can.

neji : spits on animal crossing pink themed instagram account. refuses to time travel because of his religion morals, and calls anyone who time travels mudbloods. Played animal crossing since population growing. me.

tenten : japanese themed town and house, wears kimono in game. decided eyebrows was now a thing in animal crossing and she hasn't been able to shut the fuck up since. will request a town tour and will give you fake compliments on ur non japanese styled town. gives villagers kimonos to wear and disbands them from existence if they change to any non japanese outfit.

lee : live laugh love is a design he created that he plastered on his walls because he felt the ACNH interior options didn't speak to his true creative expression hence he had to create his expression. Will take instagram photos on your flower beds and trample them up. Gives everyone letters because he has the energy to do so. Wears green skin tight suit and bowl haircut with eyelash eyes

extra -

itachi : deleted his brother's saved file from the memory card on the gamecube.

[dougmeet]

SMC Clusterf***: Richmond Inn & Suites, Baton Rouge, La. Only Good Ol' Boy Hotel Group in Shreveport -- Hotels for Walmart Corp. -- Could Have Anti-White GM, Trudi Veals, F***-up The 'One-car Funeral' Which Was My 10-month Stay ...UNTIL BLACK JANITOR & COP EVICTED ME CHRISTMAS 2020!

(via Who Kicks Out Hotel Guest During Pandemic? Wyndham Hotels Richmond Inn & Suites GM Trudi Veals Baton Rouge LA, Owner SMC Hotels Group, President Delton Smith, Trademark Collection : mrjyn : Free Download, Borrow, and Streaming : Internet Archive)

Richmond Inn & Suites, Baton Rouge, Louisiana, 225-924-6500 Front Desk, 24 Hours, Trudi Veals, GM

In retaliation with protection of owners, SMC Hotels Group, Wyndham Hotels Resorts, Trademark Collection, a concerted campaign of Constructive, Self-Help Eviction and Violation of Federal , CDC Eviction Moratorium, 12.27.2020, this commemorates Trudi Veals first extortive influence of former Front Desk Clerk, Faith, her first principal conspirator.

Faith tried what the Janitor did succeed, in temporarily impressing a sullen -- from censure -- Trudi Veals had her  momentum halted by superior,  Senior Vice President of Hotel Holding company, SMC Hotels Group, John Holmstrom, who upon hearing from an ex-employee through me what had been happening, had ordered Veals to fire her Assistant, Faith, but because of Faith's faithful efforts in helping her boss, Trudi’s illegal force-out of long-term tenant (me), Veals refused, with a tbsp of lies, and with that, crossed the line of no-return, forcing, on the morning after, a pall   throughout the employees faces.  And they all blamed me, courtesy of the rumor-mongering Trudi Veals.

Dispatch one employee to preserve stability, assuage a resident offended is necessary business to corporate execs, and if they happen to stop the personally motivated machinations  of an employee like Trudi Veals, which they had no idea existed, then all the better.  Whether it was rabidly disputed, although well-known among her confidants and helpers, they knew she was lying because they’d blown it and given her free reign.

For Trudi, just groom another assistant in the final intimidation -- the same spoiled dinner which put her appetite down -- only whetted it now.

Commission, as agent of Hotel, someone with no authority, who could then be explained away as acting autonomously in whatever foolish, non-procedural lunacies he decided of his own to commit, as  what occurred with the janitor, whom she picked as her favorite, one day after Christmas Holiday Weekend,  standing in my hall among his posse commitatus, all in the presence of a silently nodding BRPD, as if to say to any question I definitely had about the absurdity of this shitshow of authority, “... n da tom perrod'f tree our  firm nah (read in Jamaican patois) ...” officer nodding, there wouldn't be an answer. Just a command by the janitor to vacate, as a paid in full, with no court writ or order or notice to leave, to pack and be gone in three hours during the height of COVID-19 lockdown and Presidential Eviction Moratorium, December 27, 2020 -- 10 months since I had, a tenant in good standing occupied legally the dwelling at Richmond Inn & Suites, Baton Rouge, La.

Flight of Ideas and Magic Thought with a virulent predilection of her fantastical imaginings; her inability to control her trait -- relating as fact, lies of incredible construction, Dalian Hotel Policies of absurdity meant to entertain her during these manic episodes which, if confronted, she would blithely revisit, delighting herself again in her shock at admitting, ‘yes, it was all true,’ --  the grievances at Richmond Inn & Suites  left unaddressed for at least the year I was there were accommodated under the management of Trudi Veals.

Two coequal haints visit themselves upon unsuspecting whitebread rubes causing chaotic dustdevils of indeterminate origin.

What number in a year?

How many in a decade?

Of what percentage in the recent past did she dispense with issues in precisely this manner?

Veals enjoyed (as i would see it perpetrated) the $250 assessment.

A rainbow of dreaming washes over me to see its filthy lucre pour from tablespoons of sugar which Trudi administers herself and stirs in that same Macbeth Witches cauldron, while she is now rendered diabetic, debited of limbs and digits -- payment for criminality which through mawkish tears to a shrill interlocutor, she will respond in her Video Sentencing, as the culmination of a life in hospitality.

Inhospitable. No matter, Judge, nor Virtual Jury, Habeas Corpus Delecti, let him / her / it prevail.

That when HIS HONOR enter through Virtual Gallery his Courtroom, Hizzoner, heard bursting from Bailiff, virtual or corporeal, motions remanding  to house arrest, not withstanding, an ankle device shackles, which she did through counsel plead, too much like slavery its burden, her ankles hurting; unto which, adjudged too late, she fell prostrate, her clangorous show farced, and from request of referent obdurate did the Seersucker clown, whose Public Defense came from her diminution of payment -- she was entitled to her Constitutional Right to an attorney --  provided freely by the court, from the unrefined cowshed, overburdened, he couldn't remember which case was hers again -- from his car, to his watch, to his heels -- and through motions improper to a stickler at home for Kramer Vs. Kramer, but not in this Federal District Court of Appeals, appellate counsel for appellant to Bard of the Bench, his days at Harvard and Oxford and his rise through the ranks, horsehair wigs, robes, bibs and gavels,

Criminal barristers will keep wigs and gowns, as the Lord Chief Justice intends to keep the current court dress in criminal proceedings. The Bar is a single advocacy profession with specialisation in particular practice areas. There is logic in having the same formal court dress, where formality and robes are required, for criminal and civil barristers... There is strong identification of the Bar of England and Wales in the public's mind and its formal dress nationally and internationally.

to Justice whose scales weild equal to the malice practiced by those whose Liberty it steals, the gavel heard in the Barrister’s Vatican, like a Solomonic Revelation brought from  unsealing  those Seven Seals -- no Branch Davidian to waste judgement further,  enthroned, not  by Holy Rood,, but Terrible Swift Sword -- the Word of Law -- and before it ,she ask Mercy, which jurisprudence disinclines, a Judicial Granting on what she was standing, on grounds that she just couldn't stand up much longer,  Honorable man in the robe she did cling to as he floated on issue to his decision, a final declination to a continuance deemed by  court; that, And hereby, on this day, now, Say:

By preponderance of irrefutable evidence and with special circumstance, a verdict of guilty, through choice of Defendant --  wishing no man to judge her, but the eminence through Law Whom Ruleth Equal  All. No Prejudice Nor Fear, did he set down sentence which should end thus: To a term no longer than that which Defendant should be incarcerated, as to  the amount of days and nights in moral turpitude she squandered her victims, he rendered the craven acts with special malice and cruelty of intent, as a mere agent Lessor of Lodgement, an Innkeeper, unlawfully with deprivation in violation of Plaintiff’s Covenant of Peaceful Existence, did she relieve.

And so by Order of the Court, she SHALL serve out her sentence under the overpass where the I-10 ends in a maze of Los Angeles’s Skid Row, in a tent where she be remandered, although not really standard, under the lowermost overhanging awning, in a place of habitation -- already, before her, the I-10 so loud and fumid, where she'd be able to think clearly throughout the ordeal.

Warranty durable, should it of necessity in its fulfillment of determinant, subsection policy of coverage to which no clause, nor likelihood of risk amortization, through those Great Bodies of Bayesian Logic, Probability Statisticians, managed to assess that which boldness demurred, with warning our proclivity of enjoyment, times of danger and lack of inhibition, such courageousness wasted of adrenalized wash, natural narcosis, which we enjoy, compared with our duty to dispatch one-quarter century of pent-up niggling, as visited our frustration, whose credit shall present us who read this, no obloquy which I caused, you hear, as that to same degree, I shall enjoy a fireplace on the side of the transcontinental dedicatory slab to the movement of all our narcotics, this land, from its West to its East, an hyperbolic Woody Guthrie pharma-colonized mixture, which is our land now, and made for you and me.

In the deep, wretched South of my birth, says Barry Hannah -- wretched, but, still howling -- like the dinning rubber meeting road of Mario Andretti on nights you hear high-whining Formulae, its Straightaway Quarters where races are won; cacophonous to God -- to the Devil such an idea of fun -- inner-perturbation become discomfit as in dreaming,  you find yourself lost in its midst, the ringing never respite,  tintinnabulation -- this starts, so you now do, clangorous noise you weren't dreaming, remember the concept of Hearth, warm like home, your stay it may see you through this place, the same way as Religion absolves, guarantees of mortals to Glory and Promise of sinning, wanting you commit  your memory as Gospel, when you from sweating awaken into a sub-tropical destination, at 90 degrees humidity, it's really not the heat, it's the torpidity which require strong one-two punch to cough-up your lunch, from economy of motion lost is gained 90 degrees insight whose side of the Highway is not paved with gold, nor paved with  sound barriers, when looking across, it is seen, the thing which precludes  asking aloud when outside, but which would provide perfect protection from eavesdropping G-Men tailing John Gotti and Sammy the Bull, who loved nothing more than eluding them through Bridge and Tunnel traffic massing upon Little Italy Gravy Joints,  FBI packing in for home; the other side, where I, from my third story watch as you, like the painting by Munch, I cannot hear, but the shape of your mouth is as though you appear, ready to scream.

I know because it happened to me, I, like you, now also deafened by sounds only Eviller ears hear, they abound on both sides of the Slab, I-10, where you hear -- its squeals, through the name of the One, it to you hearkens with dread, and dead cursed squall, its sequel, again, and once more, it screams: Trudi Veals!

You late check-ins may wish her, or beware (by reading) The Curse of Richmond Inn & Suites, a Wyndham Hotels and Last Resort Trademark Collection, or the story of Trudi Veals. She is most simply recognized by her bromidic, counterfeit deficiency of presence, resembling the Executive doubles, who, saved by the Plague and its Social Distancing, indispensable to onerous owners of Inns and Suites which are inhospitable and untenable, and cannot be defended. Though Katrina would finish a Century of Death denied it by five years with interest, and finally restore it through penalty of profiteering, abusive mobs, unlike the present Gallows Humored fable, 'Ring Round the Rosie,' illustrative of Corporate Raiders and bottom-tier Hoteliers, whose review provides, simply through teetering acquisition by newly installed CEO, for reasons illustrated by its janitor, Mike, with two unopposable thumbs, the minimum rating it can receive is 'Two Thumbs Down.' SMC Clusterfuck, only Good Ol' Boy Hotel Investment Group of the Shreveport Country Club, Marina, building Hotels for Sam, over to Alabama, Walmart Corp., right in their back yard, who through anti-white racist tending by a General Manager of one-quarter century employ, Mrs.Trudi Veals, to fuck up the 'one car funeral' which was my brief 10-month stay at his lodge,  Richmond Inn & Suites, a Wyndham Trademark no one wants to steal. But everyone wants to read what really went on in the NEW Hospitality Horror Mystery Novella:  The Curse of Richmond Inn & Suites Repeats - a Trademark Collection John Holmstrom, through what strikes me as sensible,  and intuitive in his initial resistance in support for Trudi Veals -- refusing to authorize her request to evict me over what was transparently fallacious.

but President, Delton Smith, Number One Son of great old man Henderson Smith who has just passed, to carry on a family business with as much respect, courtesy, decorum, and hospitality, as a preppy rich kid in a Beemer, wheeling through cherry-picked gig of 8 years at the Hyatt®, a riot of paychecks, nothing really his, everything free to take, the helm, the Presidency of Boards and even Louisiana Hotel and Lodge Association (a derelict clubhouse), even the spotlight at the Socialite event of the Season, marrying another Shreveporter, Dame of Vassar, probs.  Together through wealth and throwing money at things, may their short time together, as they settle down in a place, well, since they both hate it there, it is excellent indeed, that Delton's a Hotelier.

Grandson of former Times section editor feted at engagement party Maggie Martin Shreveport Times  Elegant black and gold invitations requested the presence of friends at the Nov. 10 engagement party for Delton Smith and Caroline Wiggins, who marry on the most glittery of evenings — New Year's Eve.Invitees gathered at the Pierremont area  home of Dr. Kurt and Prissy Grozinger with others co-hosting.

It was an evening to remember with lamb chops on the dining room table and fried oysters passed by wait staffers, the talked about offerings of the evening.

Smith and Wiggins met through mutual friends, and Smith proposed at Capella Resort near Singapore. 101 is a lucky number for

Capella as well as promising 101 alluring waterfront accommodations, the hotel opened

its doors on 10.1 - October 1st

The two went were there for wedding of friends Smith met when he worked in the city. Smith is in hotel development and Wiggins is manager at Poppy's Monograms.More:

Fireworks surprise newlyweds after Coushatta reception

Smith's parents are Harrison and Cissie King Smith. His maternal grandmother is the late Beverly King Hand, a former Times editor well remembered for revising a Times style section. The bride's parents are Susie Wiggins, of Shreveport, and Pat Wiggins.Spotted in the crowd: Brian A. and Ginny King Homza, Drs. David and Carol Clemons, George and Clare Nelson, Bobby and Maura Pugh, Andy Querbes, Gary and Lisa Love, Dr. Charles and Katherine Sale, Lounelle Black, Mary Patrick Baucum, Bill and Nancy Broyles and the groom's paternal grandparents Shelby and Adelaide Smith. Maggie Martin is a Times reporter/columnist. She can be reached by calling 820-7404. Email: mmartin@shreveporttimes.com.

More on this story

trudi

trudi

veals

hotel atrocity

fuckin dickhead who is a dumbass bullyhes such a fuckin delton

Long Reads

Mental health

Social media

Young people

[loreolympians]

How to Search Archive of Our Own (AO3)

Pro Tip: Sign up for an AO3 account here. If you’re worried about anonymity, use a shell email and make an absurd username. The benefits of getting an account:

You get more fics! Many writers have their work “locked” to only registered users. 

Searching is easier because you can save the fandoms you’re interested in

Going back to old favorites or wanna catch up later? “Bookmark” or “Mark for Later”

Commenting! More than kudos, writers thrive on comments. Even a simple heart emoji means a lot, but if you’re not sure what to say, check out this “Comment Builder” tool another group created to help give ideas for amazing comments.

Use DARK MODE! With an account you can go to Preferences-->Site Skin-->Reversi, and voila! Dark mode ;)

Now that the PSA is out of the way, how do we search and find what we’re looking for?

1. Find your fandom’s homepage.

For Lore Olympus, it’s here (bookmark it, if you don’t have it saved already)

2. Right hand side, you see “Sort and Filter”

If you’re curious, the most popular used are:

Kudos (The number of readers who, at the end of the fic, hit the “kudos” button)

Date Updated (Showing you the newest fics published)

Hits (Showing you the fics with the most visits/clicks)

But that’s just the beginning. Maybe you read the most popular and want more! Now it’s time to ask yourself what you want to read? Fanfiction is about exploration and fun...what do you want from this world and characters? Rule 34 of the internet whispers there’s almost always a fic out there to suit your needs. Again, we start on the right-hand side in “Sort and Filter” - For each of these sections, choose whether you want to INCLUDE or EXCLUDE the following:

3. Filters for Days

Though out-of-order, I’m going to start with the filters I use most frequently (and consider undervalued), then go on down the line.

RELATIONSHIPS: Is there a ship you LOVE? Check for the ship here. A slash (Jill/Joan like to kiss) means romance. An ampersand (Jill&Joan are buds) means platonic.

Pro Tip: There is a NEW search functionality to search for fics where you can search a relationship that is a “one true pair,” meaning no other relationships are clouding the fic. To do this, check-off the “Relationship” you want and in “Search within results” type: otp= true

ADDITIONAL TAGS: This is a good place to search for specific tropes, kinks, or situations if you want something very specific. As you read more fanfic, you start to learn the tags you prefer. As a start, you can check out the most popular tags on AO3.

Completion Status: If you hate the heartache of reading something that isn’t (and may never) be done? Click Completed Works Only.

Word Count: Do you prefer short or long stories? To give context, here’s a rough gauge:

2,500 words = 10 - 15min to read

10,000 words = 40min - 1 hour to read

Most novels range from 70k-90,000 words

RATINGS: What kind of story do I want - wholesome, kinda sexy, or sweating from the heat?

Explicit - Erotica-level smut. Can also mean extreme violence (but that’s rare)

Mature - Story includes sexy times or violence but doesn’t revolve around it.

Teen - Suitable for 13+ and may have romance, but nothing sexy

General - All ages. No disturbing content.

Not Rated - Writer did not clarify.

WARNINGS: Do you want to avoid stuff that may trigger you?

No Archive Warnings Apply - Reader doesn’t need any warnings. Nothing below applies to this story.

Choose Not To Use Archive Warnings - A warning below applies, but writer chose not to divulge.

Graphic Depictions Of Violence - Gory, graphic, explicitly described violence.

Major Character Death - A central character dies.

Rape/Non-Con - Non-consensual interactions, usually sexual

Underage - Characters under age 18 engage in sexual activity

CATEGORIES: Which ROMANTIC relationships do you prefer?

F/F  &  F/M  &  M/M - Female/Female, Female/Male, and/or Male/Male romantic relationship, respectively. Check off what you want.

Multi - More than one kind of romantic relationship, or a relationship with multiple partners.

Other - Romantic relationships that do not fall in the above. This is RARE. Do not tag family relationships with this. You will confuse/alarm your readers.

Gen/General: Either no romantic relationships or relationships are not the main focus of the work. (man against nature, solo roadtrip across the country, etc)

FANDOM: This shows some of the OTHER fandoms a fic may have integrated in their Crossover/Alternate Universe.

CHARACTERS: Is there a specific character you HAVE to see? This is good especially for the more minor side characters

CROSSOVER: Search for fics that have multiple fandoms. This search is a bit wonky with Lore Olympus because a huge number of fics also tag “Ancient Greek Religion & Lore”, though can exclude that if you like

4. Tailor your search

The cool thing is you can run MULTIPLE filters at once - 

a novel-length fic with an “angst” tag that includes your favorite side character

a short, explicit (erotic) story with your OTP characters

a “fluff” tagged story about your favorite character

The possibilities are endless

5. Don’t forget the most important thing - Hit “SORT & FILTER”

Keep reading and experimenting until you find some new things you like :)