#undercover trials

[0fps]

JANE DOE ❖ undercover r&b

The big bad daddy who cussed you out every day is gone and yet you still miss him. What are you, a bunch of daddy's boys?

[aroacettorney]

ludger during the international trial: i hereby plead guilty to identity impersonation, large-scale thievery, mass murders, torturing, and destruction of the holy bretus kingdom as the demon king. due to the magnitude of my crimes, i believe i deserve a death sentence.

jury group #1, elisa & wolford, who knew his identity was sus since ages ago and even helped him keep it hidden: ......

jury group #2, eileen & facius, who very definitely have often committed political assassinations in the shadow: ......

jury group #3, marias & mi6, whose job is literally torturing people for intel: ......

jury group #4, all knight captains of the exilion kingdom, who are known for mercilessly and indiscriminately eliminating every threat against the exilion royalty: ......

jury group #5, everyone who attended the holy war, voluntarily or involuntarily, and even lent a hand in killing the holy emperor themselves: ......

[skate-the-onion]

Well that didn't take long.

[bumblingbabooshka]

Live Fast & Prosper

[forbidden-sleuth]

[lavenoon]

Okay, gonna go slightly for pain with this ask:

We all know the boys love and adore their games. How would Dawn/Dusk/Eclipse react to a game having gone just a step too far? Like at first it was all fun, heeheehoohoo, but then y/n either starts crying or outright states 'this isn't fun anymore, that hurt'. And possibly the reason it got to that point was because y/n didn't want to seem like they were rejecting the boy(s) and this is all in good fun right(?) so they just sort of pushed the negative feelings aside until it just got to be too much, leading to the straw breaking the camels back and causing them to possibly be in tears and then feeling horrible because they didn't know how to communicate their earlier discomfort. How would the boys react to the initial fallout and would it change their demeanor for a while, would they try to talk about it, clear the air? Would they try to pretend all was well why also walking on eggshells?

-P

You went so hard with the pain, I have a short answer, and a longer answer for a slightly different scenario

First also the disclaimer, Eclipse does not play like his brothers, he's playful, but rarely snarky with people he likes (unless it's Sun and Moon, that lovely brotherly bond), plus he doesn't really get that sort of contact with Y/N until way later - so he's not going to be a part of this, sorry!

The short answer for this scenario is simply... They don't have a future, or at the very least need distance for a good while until they can stomach each other again. A scenario where Y/N let the boys believe in a playful rivalry/ friendship filled with teasing banter even though it hurts them is simply doomed. The boys trusted Y/N to be honest, and they didn't get that, and have to realize that all they built together is now shattered, all while Y/N doesn't even know where to start trusting the boys again after that last metaphorical gut punch. The boys of course apologize, and promise not to do it again - so they all withdraw into polite distance, because do they even know each other? It's not a happy ending, and I can't see myself entertaining it for long - either be honest from the start and immediately say when things get uncomfortable, or genuinely love banter, both are fine. But letting them trust in a friendship while letting them hurt you is just... No

For the longer answer I'll grab this ask again - what if it's just one of those days where insecurities lurk closer to the surface, setting Y/N on edge? Since you specified Dusk and Dawn, I'll do the scenario where Robin just. tries to engage in the usual banter, but pre-reveal in main/ reverse AU respectively, and of course not successfully.

So Dusk has the advantage of being generally more attuned to Robin's feelings, because they aren't as defensive with him as reverse AU Robin with Dawn. He'd probably notice something is up quickly - their responses are slower, they zone out more, and they seem more like a shadow of themself the entire night. 

But after the nth near-misstep, Dusk still underestimates just how badly a little comment like "Your head's really not in the game tonight, huh?" would be received.

Robin immediately stops, and Dusk does just a few steps later, looking back to find them shaking, hands balled into fists, and staring at the ground.

He freezes. This was not his intention, and his mind is racing - the comment is completely in line with what they usually throw at each other, in fact, they’ve hurled much worse at each other at the beginning of their rivalry - but still this is the first time he’s seen them break like that.

The thing is, Robin is proud, and stubborn. Pre-reveal, there's no admitting to being hurt - not immediately. Just a strained, shaky, forced out between clenched teeth;

"Best if I leave, then."

And they do. Still tense, they just turn, walking back the way they came from, focusing so very hard on not crying right there that they don't notice how Dusk immediately follows them. he can afford it - because he doesn't care about the mission that much, and there aren’t any people to impress or fool, just them, and that’s all he cares about in that moment. He much prefers these missions as a way to spend time with his little rival, so this? This is not what he wanted.

He pulls them to the side, the funny act immediately dropped. Gentle, but insistent, even as Robin avoids looking at him. Still shaking.

"Hey, what's going on with you?"

"Nothing."

"Neither of us believes that. Little bird, it's never 'best if you leave'."

And that's when they break. Fold like a house of cards, and all Dusk can do is hush reassuringly as he kneels beside them, checking their surroundings to ensure they won't be interrupted. He's not caging them in, but rather trying to project stability as he holds on to them, hands reassuringly on their shoulders as his thumbs brush soothing circles through their clothes. It's an awful kind of deja vu - Robin, crumbled before him, and he doesn't quite know what to do.

At least this time they aren't bleeding.

"But what if?"

None of that.

"I much prefer you being here. Who else would I trust at my back?"

And that.. That already helps. It's that absolute trust that they already have, and even in that spiral of negativity Robin finds they can hold on to that.

If only to argue.

"But I keep messing up."

"You're having a bad day. Everyone gets those - not everyone's as stubborn as you though. I just lock myself in my office and don't insist on going out."

"You get bad days?"

"Sure do. Mostly days where talking gets too exhausting. Hard to explain that without words though, so I just do paperwork until it passes."

"You don't gotta talk with me. I'll get it."

Robin, ever deflecting, has no issues trying to comfort Dusk - but he just chuckles, and gives their forehead a little flick.

"That's sweet, but we're talking about you right now, birdie. Do you want to go back? Postpone this?"

They shake their head before ducking down, aware of the risk they're asking him to engage in. It still feels like failure if they go back, and their brain isn't kind to them about it.

"We'll be extra careful, then. You gotta stick close, okay?"

He's still lighthearted, holding out his hand, not a hint of anger or bitterness or annoyance in his expression. They can't really trust their own mind right now, but they trust him. After months of working with him, and ironically because of all the banter he flung at them before - they know he’s honest, as far as is possible for them in their line of work, and wouldn’t trick them like this. He’s not that cruel. 

They take the hand.

"Nice. Once you're back home, you gotta put on your comfiest pajamas though, and make yourself a hot chocolate. Extra sweet. Doctor's orders."

And that's when they find their laughter again, too <3

Dawn, as mentioned above, has it a little harder. Not just because Robin is more on edge around him, but also because he is simply an idiot about it all and more prone to fucking up.

Their shared undercover missions are also social, which adds another stressor for Robin. More people to fool and entertain with polite small talk, which just gets harder by the minute. They struggle to keep up with conversations more and more, spiraling internally about "Oh god, I'm not paying enough attention, am I even smiling? What if I'm giving us away, what if I'm the reason we fail, that'd just prove them all* right -"

(*all being in this case everyone at the agency, including Dawn, as obviously they're all just waiting for Robin to fuck up and boot them from the agency)

Dawn is an idiot, but he's not blind. He notices their fumbling, their strained smiles - and ever efficient, he gives them an out. Hand on their shoulder and leaning in close, creating a bit of a cover for Robin.

"You seem unwell, my dear. Did you eat something wrong? Perhaps you should go, freshen up a little?"

And then lower, quieter, just for their ears:

"You're slipping. Go take a breather."

Robin, stone-faced, goes to do that without another word. There's some awkward chuckles from their former conversational partners, pointing out how there might be "trouble in paradise" - and while Dawn is aware that their situation is nowhere near "paradise", he can't help but agree with the rest of the sentiment.

He saw their expression. He's seen them smug, he's seen them shocked, he's seen them scared, he's seen them happy, he's seen them angry - this is the first time he's seen them resigned.

The breather doesn't stay a breather. After ten, fifteen minutes pass, now Dawn is the one obviously getting antsy, and promptly excusing himself to go check up on his "date". (He's peripherally glad that he gave the explanation of them eating something wrong, because sickness is a valid cover, which both of them need right now.)

He doesn't find them in the bathrooms, nor near any of the public balconies. But the fresh air does give him that idea - his little thief likes their high vantage points.

He finds them on the roof, which they should not have access to.

Robin, hearing the door click, has a good idea of who found them, and only curls up tighter where they're huddled, as hidden as they can get.

"Why are you hiding?"

Dawn isn't here to play games - the mood for that left him as soon as they looked at him with empty eyes. Maybe he'd do well to be just a tad gentler, but he's confused, and honestly kind of worried, so he slips into bluntness.n (They aren't at the stage where he can show concern - is what he thinks)

Robin is still hiding, even with Dawn right there already, and only acts defensively.

“Please, just do your thing. Don’t let me hold you back.” 

They may hide it behind the passive aggression, but the fear is very real. They are holding him back, making him cover for them, making him look for them, and they can’t do anything right, huh? 

The soft sound of shifting clothes, and then there’s a hand tilting up their head to meet his eyes. Confusion twists his expression into a frown, and Robin lowers their gaze almost immediately to escape that searching expression. 

“Darling, in what world would you be holding me back?” 

“In this one, obviously.”

They try to slip out of his hold - but then his other hand cups their face too, and looking away becomes even harder. He looks bewildered, and it makes no sense. 

“Do you think I have any interest in being down there without you by my side?” 

That makes even less sense.

“You can do better without me -” 

“Will you stop slandering my partner? I can do differently, not better. And I want you down there, with me.” 

Robin can’t take it anymore - they push his hands away, trying to curl away, even as one of those hands settles on your shoulder instead. 

“But it’s true, I’m just faking, I’m pretending to be a good agent and somehow I fooled a couple people and now I just -” 

And there’s a handkerchief, dabbing away those first spilled tears. (A fancy one, in red. A little embroidered Sun in a corner, because initials aren’t really an option.) Robin freezes, the rest of their sentence dying in their throat. 

“The outcome is the same, dear. Your results don’t change just because your mind tells you to invalidate your efforts. There’s no one else I’d rather have at my side to stomach these kinds of events.” 

Deflection is easier, always. 

“... You don’t even have a stomach.” 

“Which makes the need for an outlet even more dire, no? Have you seen the suit on that ginger? Their lapels are barely ironed!” 

Some of that indignation is real, and Dawn realizes a second too late that this… perhaps isn’t the time. But another second later Robin giggles softly, and maybe it was the time, after all. 

He softens. 

“Why don’t you go ahead and set up the bug - we have everything we need from those people, and I’ll go ahead and say you’re feeling unwell. We can leave right after.” 

Their smile is small, and hesitant, but he’s never seen anything that filled him with more relief. 

“Okay.” 

For good measure, he smiles at them too, tilting his faceplate just a little. Wraps their fingers around his handkerchief - it’s for them to keep, and he’s so very glad when they do <3

Post reveal, should something like this happen again, the boys are prepared - and much less limited in their reactions. They’ll get to reassure them in the moment - and also at home, ensuring Robin actually rests and doesn’t push themself too far, while taking care to not set them off again. It’s not quite walking on eggshells, because they’re more than capable of being soft, but the gentleness is definitely palpable (because neither of them would try to hide it) <3

[elytrafemme]

wearing a crop top even though it is literally like 50 degrees outside... i did this for society btw 

[pseudowho]

Operation: Babymaker-- Honeytrap/Maid Café

When it comes to trying for a baby, Nanami Kento always works overtime. And the reader had better be ready.

You are sent undercover to a Maid Café on ovulation night, to Honeytrap a curse-user for capture and trial. Kento is pissed off, and he won't be letting anyone get away with this lightly.

💛💜Part 1 LINK HERE: A Trip to the Tailors

💛💜Part 2 LINK HERE: Benchpress

💛💜Part 3 LINK HERE: Ditch the Party...again

💛💜 Part 4 LINK HERE: Wet Dreams

💛 💜 Part 6 LINK HERE: Grapple

Warnings: 18+ throughout, breeding kink, fertility/infertility discussion, jealous Kento, exhibitionism, use of toys

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Ships in the night.

Five days...a week...a week and a half. Kento couldn't take it anymore. The universe was conspiring against him. Against you. Work had meant you had barely shared a room together, let alone a bed. Kento hissed as he threw a file onto Yaga's desk, his neck prickling with rage...his balls heavy and untouched.

Another two months of negative tests had passed. He was still yet to see you, swollen and round with his seed. He was still yet to justifiably refuse for you to be sent on dangerous missions. His heart broke for every dribble of cum he saw trickle out of your pussy after he was finished with you.

Kento had taken to plugging you with his cock until he was ready to fuck you full of his seed again. Forcing your arse up on pillows, his cock still cushioned within you, Kento would overstimulate you with your vibrator. With you pinned and whimpering beneath him, his cock throbbing to life again inside those plush clenching walls, there was nowhere your shaking orgasms could suck his cum other than up.

Kento was obsessed. He could feel this desire to breed you becoming pathological. He read dirty doujinshi, full of x-ray panels of cocks spurting cum straight into empty wombs, soon swollen and bursting with load after load. He fisted himself with urgent strokes while reading these, your panties wrapped around his hand, moaning into your pillow with your smell, each time stopping just before he came...just in case you were to arrive home early. Which, you never did.

He cursed at the unreliability of ovulation tests, and grabbed your freshly discarded panties out of the laundry basket instead, fingering your discharge between forefinger and thumb, assessing for that egg-white stretch. You woke up more than once to a thermometer being snuck into your mouth, Kento logging your signs onto a spreadsheet, waiting for that golden ovulation algorithm to ping.

In a mad moment, he even considered buying a long syringe, so he could jack off, fill it, and then fill you with his cum while you slept, exhausted from your long days. Kento laughed at himself, horrified by such a truly insane, unthinkable notion...although...

Kento shut himself into his office, barely suppressing a groan at the thought of squirting his warm cum straight through your cervix. Kento crouched down on his haunches, cock beginning to ache and fatten, and raking his fingers through his neatly parted hair.

With a groan and a prayer, Kento pulled out his phone and messaged you. At first he was thrilled, his heart leaping with love when you text him back immediately...before the slow descent into madness began again.

Your knees. Your panties around them. Your fingers, dabbing clear, stretchy discharge between them.

Kento's cock had never stiffened so quickly in his entire life. He stood, silent. He left you on read. He couldn't possibly put thoughts as debauched as his into words, he thought, stalking through the corridors and paths of Jujutsu High until he reached his car.

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Kento arrived home with a spring in his step, listening to old, saved voicemails and voice notes you had left him, on his drive home. His cock ached, stretching against his tan trousers, weeping pre-cum. He planned to keep you up all night, but he'd graciously keep filling you, prone and sleepy (with your permission, of course), if you tapped out.

"Darling!" He called out, tossing his briefcase into the corner before slamming the door closed with his foot, "I'm home!"

Except, you weren't. He could feel that instantly, and a seed of horror sowed itself in his core, growing into something far meaner as he picked up the note you had left behind on the kitchen counter for him.

Kento's hand shook, crumpling the paper between strong fingers with a crunch.

He had had enough.

Reaching into his pocket for his phone, he dialled, waited...and spoke.

"Ijichi? Tell me where she is. Now, please."

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A brothel, barely masquerading as a Maid Café, skirting the borders of the entertainment districts and the red light districts. The usual Friday night haunt of a Curse user who had been evading capture for months. The dump where you had been sent to honeytrap him before he could escape again.

Kento had dressed to fit in, in a slim black suit and open-necked white shirt, expertly tailored, with just enough room to fit his blunt blade and harness beneath the jacket. He snaked through the dimly lit street, feeling the necking couples in alleyways, cutting through the lamp-illuminated steam billowing from noisy restaurants, until he reached some narrow stairs up, barely visible unless you knew what you were here for.

Ascending the steps, Kento could feel every curve of you on the side of his tongue, tracing your Cursed energy above the suppression of his own. He felt the Curse user, too, and Kento's face twisted into a snarl to feel such filth near you, on tonight of all nights--

"Table for one. Somewhere quiet."

The Maid demurred, smiling and simpering and barely a grown woman, Kento noted, keeping a respectful distance as she led him to his table. The lights were low enough to mute the wandering, clasping hands of the raucous tables of men. The rooms tucked to the side, bathed in red light and sin, were clearly for private commissions.

Urged into a plush corner couch, Kento turned the lamp away from himself, plunging him into shadow. He leaned back, eyes dipped low beneath dark glasses, waiting to taste you on the side of his tongue again. He accepted only a drink.

You had entered actor mode, not unfamiliar with the practice, having reeled in more than one unsuspecting Curse user over the years. In your black and white maid dress, stockings and suspenders, and tall high heels, the devilish fun of the hunt was still tainted by your lost evening with Kento.

You knew, bitterly, that you were ovulating, with sore plump breasts, that familiar low ache on one side of your belly, and your desperate need to be at home, being filled, instead of at a maid cafe trying to reel in this creep. You were doing a good job of looking like you were enjoying the feel of his cold hands creeping around your thighs. You giggled and slapped his chest when he nosed at your neck. Your new manager looked on approvingly, the new girl already raking in the customers.

Before long, you heard the other girls whispering to each other.

"--so hot, but he doesn't want anyone--"

"So what, like...he's just here for drinks? I don't get it--"

"--tried to sit on his lap and he told me I deserved better, what the hell does he mean--"

Intrigued though you were, you hardly had time to see what the ruckus was about. You were moving in for the kill, your flirtations paying off as your prey pressed a wodge of bills into the hand of the manager, and a couple of bills between your breasts.

"Let's go somewhere quiet, doll, yeah?"

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"...sir...I am sorry to interrupt your evening, sir...only, my girls have noticed that they don't seem to be to your liking. Is there anything I can do to make your visit more enjoya--"

"Your new girl," Kento offered, clipped as he interrupted. The manager raised his eyebrows, turning briefly to see you, being toyed with on the lap of another patron. The manager cleared his throat, his pocket full of a fat roll of bills, smiling awkwardly at Kento.

"I'm sorry, sir...it appears another guest has already taken a liking to--"

"How much?" Kento interrupted again, his deep, smooth voice gravitational, drawing the many wandering Maids closer to him. The manager faltered again, so Kento raised his voice, gripping his glass and swirling the bourbon within, amber in the warm distant light.

"How much," Kento enunciated, taking a long draw from his glass, with a hiss, "do you think your new girl is worth? Tell me."

The manager paused, his squirrelly little mind grasping another money-making opportunity. He offered Kento a figure. The girls jumped and squealed as Kento's hand tightened on his glass, breaking it, an audible crack in his hand.

"More," Kento pressed, dropping his glass to the table. Another figure was offered, higher this time. Kento bared his teeth, growling at the manager, leaning forwards on his knuckles as he began to stand.

"More." The manager stuttered, throwing out another, much higher figure.

"MORE." Kento roared, slamming a fist on the table, the café growing immediately silent around him. He thought he saw you try to turn your head in his direction, and a slither of violent disgust burned in his chest as he saw the Curse user grasp you to him by the neck, pressing a sloppy kiss to it.

The manager gawped at Kento, mouth opening and closing like a fish. Kento scoffed, pulling a thick stack of bills out of his pocket, passing it to one of the nearby Maids, without breaking eye-contact with the sweating manager.

"She's priceless," Kento hissed, hearing the Maids gasp behind him at the stack of bills. "So if you know what's good for you...they'll split that between them, and you will not interrupt me. Do we understand each other?"

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You held your Curse user prey by his collar, walking backwards on your heels, leading him to the red velvet room. He grinned at you, all spit and salacious, with cigarette-stained teeth, his hands wandering down to ruck up the skirt of your dress.

You pushed the door open with your heeled foot, pulling the Curse user in with you. The door swung closed behind him, and you had barely a moment to see the hulking, backlit red-spectre lying in ambush behind the door.

"Get your dirty fucking hands off my wife, or I'll snap your neck."

Picked up by the back of the collar, and tossed sideways like a ragdoll, the Curse user hit the wall beside the bed with a dull crack, out cold in under a second. Kento snatched a curtain-tie, binding the Curse-user's hands behind him. You flustered at Kento, as he stood.

"Kento-- what the hell are you doing her--"

You felt your chin gripped, firm but gentle, between Kento's thumb and forefinger. He glowered down at you, icy cold, his protectiveness frosted with jealous possession. His voice was calm, measured, manipulative.

"What am I doing here? What are you doing here, little one? Dressed like that, no less...anyone would think you weren't married."

You swallowed, blushing and moving to defend yourself; "It's work, Kento, you know I--"

"--didnt mean anything by it? That it wasn't real?" Kento kept you gripped by the chin, slowly moving you back towards the high edge of the bed. You teetered on your heels, and he stabilised you, one thick arm looping around your waist, pressing you to him. You could feel the throb of his cock lengthening against your belly, and trembled.

"You're right..." Kento whispered, his breath ghosting your lips as he leaned down to trap you against the foot of the bed, caging you in, "...you couldn't possibly be satisfied by him, over me."

Kento fingered the lace edge of your stockings, the ruffled puff of your barely-there skirt. He shuddered against your lips, feeling his cock jump in his boxers.

"...seems a shame to waste this. Let's give these bastards a real show, shall we?" Kento hooked open the door with his heel, enough to hear the laughs and chatter from the café beyond.

After pressing a single, deep kiss to your lips, Kento dropped to his knees, glaring up at you in challenge. You found yourself glassy-eyed with anticipation, biting your lip, smiling as you teased the ruffles of your skirt up, to edge your lace stockings; "...do you like it?"

Kento bit, gripping you round the thighs and pressing them open with bruising force, aggressively nuzzling his face under your skirts. You squealed, laughing as he nipped and licked at you, growling against your mound and nuzzling your wafer-thin panties aside; "I love it...fuck, I love it, c'mere--"

Kento hooked your knees over his shoulders, looping his arms under your thighs to pin you against the foot of the bed. You heard a passing Maid outside your door gasp at the same time as you, at the sight of Kento kneeling and shoulder-deep in the ruffles of your skirts, your stockinged legs over his shoulders, his tongue plunging between your folds to taste you with an ecstatic moan.

"--oh god Kento-- yes yes yes please," you babbled, sinking your fingers into his hair and tugging at the roots. Kento murmured against your pussy, lubricating you with his spit, rolling his nose, tongue, and chin up and down the length of your folds, with all the fervour of a man deprived.

You heard whistles and catcalls from the café, and blushed, throwing one arm over your eyes, your pleasure building with the sloppy debauchery of Kento dipping his tongue into your entrance and nuzzling his nose firmly into your clit. He repeated this, patient, stroking his tongue over and around your clit with relentless wet flicks and sucks. When Kento gently nipped your clit between his teeth, you screamed in alarm, juddering and close to orgasm.

You clamped your thighs around Kento's head, muffling the sounds of the café around him. Reaching up two fingers, plunging them into your pussy and hooking them forwards towards him and the squashy g-spot in your cunt, Kento hooked you. Flicking his tongue from side to side over your clit, Kento chuckled against your pussy, his cock leaping within its confines.

"--in front of every-- Kento, fffuuuck please close them-- nnnngg cumming, cumming I'm cumming--"

You cried out in bliss, convulsing, gripping Kento's hair for dear life. In tandem with your twisting and mewling, you heard a chorus of cheers, hoots and clapping in the café, the men jeering and the women giggling. You shuddered, stunned, still wracked with pleasure.

"More?" Kento asked, nuzzling between your folds still, gripping you tightly to him so you couldn't clamber away across the bed. You babbled nonsense at Kento, slapping at the top of his head as his pulled his face away a little, and repeated, louder; "MORE?"

More cheers sounded from outside, and Kento grinned beneath your skirts, diving in to pleasure you again. You could barely stay upright, seeing stars, crunching around his head. The Curse-user began to stir on the floor to your right, as Kento dragged you across the coals to another stinging orgasm, so sharp after following your first so closely.

Kento came up for air to find you, flopped backwards, flushed and gasping on the bed. Slapping your thighs hard enough to make you squeak, Kento reached down and pulled you up by the back of the neck, pressing a long, familiar kiss to your lips. Tasting yourself on his mouth, you knew his next words to be true.

"Mine. Now, always, and especially-- fucking-- tonight," he emphasised each word with a brittle slap to your thigh. Flipping you over against the bed, face down and arse up, your heeled feet wobbling against the floor, Kento sighed, flipping your skirts up and admiring the view. He trailed his fingers against the top of your stockings, and the way the plush of your thighs peeped over them.

"Still no fucking baby-- and you fuck off to seduce another man tonight? The audacity," Kento purred, and you heard the clink of Kento undoing his belt behind you.

Kento was hooking his weeping, heavy cock out of his boxers just in time to see the Curse-user awaken, dazed and furious at Kento stroking his cock in preparation, over his Maid, strewn helplessly over the bed. Kento smirked, letting his Cursed-energy burst out with enough force to leave the man on the floor, and you on the bed, breathless with the stormy oppression of it.

"...you bastard-- that's my...I paid for her," the Curse user snapped, straining against his bonds. Kento laughed, bracketing you with his thick arms against the bed. His left hand grasped your left hand as he lined his aching cock up with your entrance. Kento slid your clasped hands, wedding bands clearly visible, across the sheets towards the Curse user.

"Yeah? I married her," Kento growled, kicking your heeled feet aside and fucking into you in one smooth movement, rocking his hips a few times against your cries, until he bottomed out with a roar. Kento pulled you to him by your hair, and smacked an affectionate kiss to the side of your face, before flinging you back against the velvet sheets.

He stood tall, gripping your hips to press your pussy close, and cracked his neck from side to side. He heard the enthusiastic crowd behind him, feeling a bizarre prickle of competition down his spine.

When Kento began thrusting into you with joyful abandon, you felt every vein, every throbbing ridge of him. Gripping the sheets for something, anything to stop you from being fucked up the bed, you screamed into the sheets with every hit. When you turned round to shoot Kento a blushing look of barely-sincere fury, Kento landed a stinging slap to your arse, and the Maids behind you giggled at the door.

Kento was lost in the moment, thrilled to be finally able to fill your belly, ecstatic with the knowledge that he was about to spill into you at just the right point in your cycle. His pleasure built fast, grasping your hips and slamming them back onto his cock, with rough slaps and grunts. He controlled himself for long enough to slip his hand beneath your mound, pinching and rolling your clit between his fingers while he whispered husky promises in your ear.

"--so fucking good-- waiting for me...haaah yes, take it-- good girl-- fuck a baby into you tonight-- you want that? Hmm? Is this-- is this it-- is this the--the one...fuck, not gonna last, cum with me, c'mon, please--"

Kento reached over you, his hand grasping you by the neck and jaw, craning your head backwards. He thought he'd be able to last, but when you sucked his forefinger into your mouth, your wet little tongue rolling over the pad as you suckled on it, Kento came with a slew of curses, a rough, alarmed bark.

Wildly overstimulated, you clenched around Kento as he pumped thick ropes of cum into you, feeling him tense and groan against your back with the blinding force of his orgasm. He continued to roll your clit, plugging you and panting until you came with a shaky little cry, your pussy tightening and sucking at his cock until he shivered with residual bliss.

Panting, coming down from your respective highs, you and Kento both turned to look at the Curse user on the floor. A noisy round of applause rang in from the café and you laughed despite yourself, wiggling against Kento.

"Lucky bastard..." the Curse user whined into the rug, "Piece of...piece of shit...should have been me--"

"Fuck off," rumbled Kento, "you're lucky you're not dead. Save it for trial."

You felt Kento rummaging in his pocket behind you. As he slipped his softening cock out of you, you squealed to find yourself hurriedly filled with a dildo, plugging you all the way to your belly. You groaned against the sheets, squirming, and Kento flipped your skirts down.

"...do you want to finish your shift?" He offered, voice full of mirth. You kicked back at him with one heeled foot as he laughed.

"If this is the one that gets us pregnant, I'll kill you."

[bet-on-me-13]

Talia took a 20+ Year Undercover mission a while ago

So! Talia is the Daughter of Ra's Al Ghul, and has been alive and at his side for many years now. Decades even. She is well into her 100's, even though her physical Body looks like that of a 20 yr old.

And in all the years that she has lived, what's to say she didn't take a few years off as a vacation? Even Ra's must take a few years off every once in a while, leaving to spend time on some remote island he can relax on for once. So, one day in the Early 80's she decided to do the same.

But she wouldn't be completely relaxing, she would take the break to further the League's goals still. She decided to Dye her Hair, change her Name, get into an acceptable College, and study Lazarus Waters to their scientific limit. She decided to name if Ectoplasm, to avoid any unwanted attention.

And while there, she met a pair of men doing the exact same.

Jack and Vladimir were nice enough. Although their Research was more focused on Ghosts, or as she would call them, Pit Demons. They were convinced that Ectoplasm and Ghosts came from another Dimension, and if they could find a way to open a Dimension Gateway to this theoretical Ghost Zone, they could aquire Limitless Clean Energy (and maybe find a way to contain the Ghostly threat).

Over the years, Talia Maddie would fall for Jack. Eventually, even after she had completed her College Studies and Vlad had left contact with them, she decided to extend her Vacation to further study Ectoplasm with Jack. One thing led to another, and eventually she found herself pregnant. And then it happened again.

Jazzmine and Daniel were the cutest little babies. But she knew the danger they would be in if it was ever discovered that she was their Mother, so she trained them in everything she could so they could survive. She knew her time as Maddie Fenton was coming short, but she resolved to stay, at the very least until Jazz was an Adult.

She didn't account for Daniel becoming a Small Town Hero, but those were just the Trials of motherhood.

Then, the day came. She left a note on her bedside table explaining that she regretted what had to happen, and left in the middle of the night. It was better this way.

...

The year right after she returned, her Father forced her to have a Child with his most prospective Heir. The Bat, he called himself. Oh he was Charming, there was no denying that, but unfortunately she was still working through her feelings about Jack.

She treated her resulting child poorly because of that, and that she regreted it deeply. She loved him, honestly she did, but it was hard to look at him and not remember Daniel. Still, she persevered.

The day she once again had to give up her son for his protection was the hardest of her life.

But it was unavoidable. The Coup that had taken her Father's life had also fractured the Organization, anyone could have taken their shot at her Son as the rightful Heir. She needed to protect him as she took care of the Traitors.

...

Damian always knew he was the One True Heir. It was his defining character trait for his early years of life. Even though he had grown to be more than just that over recent years, he always felt like it was a key part of his identity.

Until now.

Because the BatComputer had just finished running a DNA Test on the Blood of a man who he had spotted on his Patrol the previous night.

A DNA Test that had come back, with results claiming that the man, who looked almost exactly like a younger male version of his Mother, was his Half Brother.

[reality-detective]

On this day in 1992, Randy Weaver and his family were attacked by Federal law enforcement at their home on Ruby Ridge in Boundary County, Idaho. What began on that day would quickly become known as one of the most egregious examples of Federal police tyranny in the nation's history. 👇

Randall Claude Weaver, who preferred to be called Pete as he hated his given name, was born in Villisca, Iowa to poor farming parents. One of four children, his family was extremely religious, though they often struggled to find a denomination that fit their beliefs. In 1968, Weaver dropped out of high school and enlisted in the US Military. 👇

While home on leave, he met his future wife, Victoria "Vicki" Jordison. In 1971, Weaver left the Army at the rank of Sergeant and a month later, he and Vicki were married. Randy quickly enrolled in Community College with the goal of becoming an FBI agent, but the high cost of tuition prevented him from completing school. He found work at the local John Deere factory while his wife became a homemaker as they began having children. 👇

Over time, they began developing a deeper and deeper distrust of the government, and Vicki began having "visions" that the Apocalypse was coming. The family decided their only option was to move off the grid. They spent time among the Amish, learning how to live without electricity. Then they emptied their life savings of $5000 to buy the small mountain property in northern Idaho. 👇

In 1984, their troubles began. Randy had a falling out with neighbor Terry Kinnison, over a $3,000 land deal. Kinnison lost the ensuing lawsuit and was ordered to pay Weaver an additional $2,100 in court costs and damages. Kinnison took his vengeance in letters written to the FBI, Secret Service, and county sheriff, claiming that Weaver had threatened to kill Pope John Paul II, President Ronald Reagan, and Idaho governor John Evans. 👇

Randy and Vicki Weaver were interviewed by the FBI, Secret Service, and the County Sheriff. Police were told that Weaver was a member of the white supremacist Aryan Nation and that he had a large gun collection in his cabin. Weaver denied the allegations, and no charges were filed. 👇

The Weavers filed an affidavit in 1985, claiming their enemies were plotting to provoke the FBI into killing them. The couple wrote a letter to President Reagan, claiming a threatening letter may have been sent to him, over a forged signature. No such letter ever materialized but, seven years later, prosecutors would cite the 1985 note as evidence of a Weaver family conspiracy against the government. 👇

One of the Weaver's neighbors, Frank Kumnick, was a member of the Aryan Nation, and invited Randy to attend a World Aryan Congress in 1986. Unknown to either man was that Kumnick was already a target of the ATF. 👇

While at this "Congress", Weaver met a man posing as a gun dealer who was actually an undercover ATF agent. Randy invited this man to his home to discuss forming a resistance group against what they called the "Zionist Occupation Government". 👇

Later that same year, the ATF would charge Weaver with selling that informant two sawed-off shotguns. 👇

The ATF offered to drop all charges, as long as Randy was willing to become a confidential informant. Randy refused. The indictments came down shortly after, claiming that Randy was a "bank robber" with an extensive criminal history. These allegations were of course fabricated. However, Randy was still arrested and then released, pending trial. 👇

Trial was set for February 20, 1991 and subsequently moved to February 21, due to a federal holiday. Weaver’s parole officer sent him a letter, erroneously stating that the new date was March 20. A bench warrant was issued when Weaver failed to show in court, for the February date. Randy was, despite being completely unaware of it, officially labeled a fugitive from justice. 👇

The U.S. Marshals Service agreed to put off execution of the warrant until after the March 20 date, but the U.S. Attorney’s Office called a grand jury, a week earlier. It’s been said that a grand jury could indict a ham sandwich and the adage proved true, particularly when the prosecution failed to reveal parole officer Richins’ letter, with the March 20 date.

The episode fed into the worst preconceptions, of both sides. Marshalls developed a “Threat Profile” on the Weaver family and an operational plan: “Operation Northern Exposure”. Weaver, more distrustful than ever, was convinced that if he lost at trial, the government would seize his land and take his four children leaving Vicki, homeless. 👇

Federal surveillance of Ruby Ridge began. Marshalls attempted to negotiate over the following months, but Weaver refused to come out. Several people used as go-betweens, proved to be even more radical than the Weavers themselves. In a rare show of reason under the circumstances, Deputy Marshal Dave Hunt asked Weaver neighbor Bill Grider “Why shouldn’t I just go up there … and talk to him?” Grider replied, “Let me put it to you this way. If I was sitting on my property and somebody with a gun comes to do me harm, then I’ll probably shoot him.” 👇

On April 18, 1992, a helicopter carrying media figure Geraldo Rivera for the Now It Can Be Told television program was allegedly fired on, from the Weaver residence. Surveillance cameras then being installed by US Marshalls showed no such shots fired and Pilot Richard Weiss, denied the story.  Even so, a lie gets around the world, before the truth can get its pants on. (Hat tip, Winston Churchill, for that bit of wisdom). The ‘shots fired narrative’ now became a media feeding frenzy. The federal government drew up ‘rules of engagement’👇

On August 21st, 1992, six Deputy US Marshalls entered the property to provide ground level reconnaissance and choose a spot to ambush and arrest Weaver. Deputy Marshall Art Roderick threw rocks at the cabin to see how the dogs would react. The cabin was at this time out of meat and, thinking the dog’s reaction may have been provoked by a game animal, Randy, a friend named Kevin Harris and Weaver’s 14-year-old son Samuel came out with rifles, to investigate. Vicki, Rachel, Sarah and baby Elisheba, remained in the cabin. 👇

When Striker discovered the team's locations, on of the Marshalls shot and killed the dog. This caused a brief firefight. By the time the shooting stopped, Deputy US Marshall William Degan had been shot and killed by Harris. Tragically, 14 year old Sammy was also dead, shot in the back by the Marshalls while trying to help his dog. 👇

The situation quickly spiraled. The National Guard was called in, as well as SWAT teams and helicopters. The Weavers moved Sammy's body into a small shed near the main house, then retreated into the house. 👇

The next day, August 22nd, Weaver and his 16 year old daughter Sarah, along with Harris, left the main house to enter the shed Sammy's body lay. FBI sniper Lon Horiuchi fired from a position some 200 yards distant. The bullet tore into Weaver’s back and out his armpit. The three raced back to the cabin. Horiuchi’s second round entered the door as Harris dove for the opening, injuring him in the chest before striking Vicki in the face as she held baby Elisheba, in her arms. Vicki did not survive. 👇

Two days later, FBI Deputy Assistant Director Danny Coulson wrote the following memorandum, unaware that Vicki Weaver lay dead:

“Something to Consider

1. Charge against Weaver is Bull Shit.

2. No one saw Weaver do any shooting.

3. Vicki has no charges against her.

4. Weaver’s defense. He ran down the hill to see what dog was barking at. Some guys in camys shot his dog. Started shooting at him. Killed his son. Harris did the shooting [of Degan]. He [Weaver] is in pretty strong legal position.” 👇

The siege of Ruby Ridge would drag on for ten days. Kevin Harris was brought out on a stretcher on August 30, along with Vicki’s body. Randy Weaver emerged the following day. Subsequent trials acquitted Harris of all wrongdoing and Weaver of all but his failure to appear in court, for which he received four months and a $10,000 fine. 👇

In August 1995, the US government avoided trial on a civil lawsuit filed by the Weavers by awarding the three surviving daughters $1,000,000 each, and Randy Weaver $100,000 over the deaths of Sammy and Vicki Weaver. Randy would pass away on May 11, 2022, after a long illness.

The atrocity at Ruby Ridge would not be the end of the story. Six months later, many of the same agents would be involved at the siege of the Branch Davidian compound in Waco, Texas.

The story of the Weaver family and Ruby Ridge reminds us all that just wanting to be left alone is often not an option. The Federal government, in particular the FBI, ATF, and US Marshalls, used deception, outright lies, and terroristic tactics, all in an attempt to entrap a man who refused to become an informant against his neighbors. 👇

History is not what we were told. Everything is a fμ¢%in' lie. 🤔

Posted August 21, 2024

[itsswritten]

gone. | 2

Pairing: Azriel x fem reader

Word Count: 3.2K

Warnings: Slight angst, unrequited love, fluff, reconciliation, kind of miscommunication.

Summary: Sometimes it take's heartbreak to move on.

<< Previous Part

The voice beckoned to him like a siren's call, pulling Azriel through the familiar halls of the house in a daze. His shadows moved with urgency, some darting ahead while others tugged at their master, urging him to quicken his pace.

There was a small part of him that knew why they were behaving in such a way, but there was a sinking feeling that came with that revelation. 

Azriel felt as though he had forgotten how to breathe when he finally laid eyes on you.

Of course it was your melodic voice that had drawn him.

Caught in a bear hug by Cassian, you were lifted off the ground and spun around amidst the joyful chaos of your friends who had gathered in the foyer of the River House to greet you. You had returned at last. Your laughter rippled through the house, filling it with a warmth that had been dearly missed.

Six months had passed.

Six agonising months. 182 days.

Azriel had been counting every single one since the moment you departed after Solstice.

The day after your departure, Rhys had declared that you had been sent on an urgent undercover mission to the continent. It was a mission originally briefed for both you and Azriel, but in the span of mere hours since your last interaction with the Shadowsinger, the plan had shifted. To Azriel's dismay, Rhys had approved your solo assignment.

Azriel had argued vehemently with Rhys that day, his frustration boiling over until he was blue in the face. But Rhys remained steadfast, unwilling to change his decision or disclose your whereabouts. Azriel knew deep down that you had been sent alone because of him, that you had chosen a means to escape from the pain he had caused you, and the weight of that knowledge only added to his self-hatred.

After you left him in the library that night, Azriel had desperately searched for you, his heart heavy with regret. He wanted to speak with you, to mend the fractured pieces of your friendship. But despite his efforts, you remained elusive, slipping through his fingers like mist.

Even his shadows, loyal companions that they were, failed to locate you. Always returning empty-handed. It was as though you had vanished into the night, leaving Azriel to grapple with his own turmoil alone. He knew his shadows wouldn't divulge your whereabouts even if they found you; their allegiance to you had always been unwavering.

Their disobedience was a punishment he deserved. You didn’t owe him anything more than you had already shared. You had already revealed your heart to him.

And your heart wasn’t something he ever imagined being worthy of.

So he pleaded with his shadows then, if they wouldn’t tell him where you were that they must promise to keep you safe.

And with that several tendrils left him, not hesitating with their duty.

Though the end of your mission was anticipated, the exact date of your return remained uncertain. Due to the covert nature of your assignment, communication had been scarce. Yet, every now and then, a note bearing your unmistakable perfect handwriting would appear in the dining room.

Safe. It would reassure.

And for a brief moment your family would ease from their worries, Azriel though, remained on edge, his concerns never truly leaving.

Frozen in place, Azriel watched as tears of joy flowed freely from his family's eyes, overwhelmed by your homecoming. Despite the trials you had undoubtedly faced, you appeared radiant, a sun-kissed glow gracing your skin that perhaps spoke subtly of where you may have been stationed on your journey.

Azriel’s eyes slowly moved over your features, his gaze taking in every inch of you. Devouring this moment and saving it somewhere deep in his mind, because this version of you he didn’t deserve. He felt unworthy of the sight before him, fearing that you would never want to share this radiant version of yourself with him.

His throat tightened as your face turned to him, catching him lurking with his shadows in the corner. His companions that had accompanied you through your time away, quickly returned to their master, fluttering quickly to be amongst the others, seeking approval that they’d done their job. That they’d kept you safe.

But Azriel couldn’t even bask in their return as he stared at you. Azriel was terrified, terrified of what expression would bore your face when you saw him. He had caused you so much pain, surely you detested him? But instead your expression became bright and your smile spread wider at the sight of him.

Azriel dared not trust his heart to continue beating if your expression had reflected true hatred. It was a fear that had haunted his every dream since the day you departed, a relentless torment that gripped him. So when your expression softened into that smile that reached your eyes he felt himself slump in relief.

In the six months of your absence, something within him had changed. Your confession, with your absence, had lifted a veil that had clouded his vision for far too long.

With you no longer by his side, Azriel had felt the void you left behind keenly. He had always held you in the highest regard, placing you on a pedestal that he believed himself unworthy to approach. There were times he had even considered himself unworthy of your friendship, which was why he cherished you so dearly. But your confession to him, had shattered the barriers he had erected, revealing how the depth of his own self-worth had brought blindness to himself.

And in turn, caused you so much pain.

“Azriel.” You smiled softly, tilting your head as you took in your best friend. Despite the turmoil churning within him, he couldn't help but feel a flicker of hope stir in his chest at the sight of you.

You’re not sure you’d seen him look so broken in all your centuries of knowing him, and there was a twang of guilt that surged through your chest. With two quick strides you moved to him, knowing he was too respectful to cross that boundary himself. 

Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him into a warm embrace.

For a moment, he simply allowed himself to bask in the comfort of your presence, the familiar scent of you filling his senses and calming the anxiety raging within him. It took a while for him to trust his movements, before he let his arms wrap around your back, fully sinking into your warmth and hold.

His heartbeat was loud, fast and fluttering. Concern filled the outer corners of your mind as you felt your friend's composure falter, how rare it was to see him this way.

Drawing back gently, you met the gaze of your friend. His eyes, a mesmerising hazel, held a sadness within them that made your heart ache. His long lashes fluttered with each blink, and his jaw was pulled tightly as if not trusting himself to speak.

You couldn’t help but indulge in his beauty for a moment, as sad as he may have looked. Azriel had always looked like he’d been carved by the gods, so painstakingly beautiful. It had been so easy to fall for this face, and you had to be careful to not do it again.

When you left, things had reached a breaking point. It felt less like a departure and more like an escape—a desperate bid to flee from the shattered remnants of your heart and friendship. True, the mission loomed ahead, a joint task that was supposed to be with Azriel, and was still a month away. But facing him, working side by side after his rejection, seemed an unimaginable task. So you made the choice to run, to seize control for yourself.

So you ran away that night. Stealing the reports from Rhys’s office was a risky move, but it felt like the only option. You had to do this alone. You had sent a mental message to Rhys of your choice, he didn’t once force you to return. Despite your actions being so unlike yourself, perhaps it was the raw vulnerability he had witnessed in the hallway that night that steered his hand in giving you this control. Instead, Rhys supported your decision, expecting you to stay in touch and made you promise you would let them know if you needed help.

But that time and space was exactly what you needed. Those six months became a transformation. At first, the weight of your heart was heavy. The bitterness of rejection, a constant companion, thoughts of Azriel and Elain often haunted your daydreaming and nights. 

Yet, with time, you found comfort in solitude. You had learned to embrace the stillness, confront the pain and eventually allow yourself the space to heal. Your day-to-day tasks of stealth, stalking and slaughtering was also a welcomed distraction, but in the midst of some close encounters it really did give you a new perspective.

That even though your romantic feelings towards Azriel may have been rejected, you still refused to let that fracture your friendship. You realised you would much rather suffer a little, to ensure your friends happiness even if that wasn’t with you.

Sacrificing your own desires for Azriel felt like a small price to pay.

For Azriel deserved nothing less than that. Out of all your family, your brooding friend truly deserved the most. And if Elain was the key to his happiness, then you would embrace her presence in his life, even as it stirred heartbreak within you.

And instead you would be grateful for the parts of him you did get to have– his laughter, his counsel, his friendship.

Because a life without Azriel, wasn’t a life you wanted to live.

Azriel found himself captivated by your gaze, drawn into the depths of your eyes after so long apart. There was a sadness etched into his features that caused your brows to furrow sympathetically. With a tender hand, you reached out, your hand finding its way to his cheek. The gentle pressure of your touch– something he had longed for so deeply in these months apart, made his eyes close briefly, a shaky exhale escaping his lips in response.

“Hey, don’t look at me like that” you whispered, pulling a soft smile onto your lips hoping your optimism in this would give him the reassurance he needed. It dawned on you then, the toll your abrupt departure and heartfelt confession might have taken on him. How you should have known he would spiral into self-blame. 

Azriel's throat tightened with emotion as he struggled to find the right words to express his own feelings. "Gods, I have missed you," he finally whispered, his voice laced with a softness as he met your gaze, his hands were on your waist now and he was completely lost in you. 

Lost in that beautiful glowing smile you had so kindly shared with him.

He needed to speak with you, needed to apologise, needed to try and repair the damage he had unknowingly caused. Explain to you how he was the foolish one, admit he had been blind not only to you but his own feelings. But before he could even phantom how he would express all that, Mor was quick to tug you away.

“How come he gets that kind of welcome? I want more of you!” Mor whined, her tone teasing as she looped her arm around yours.

It was clear Rhys had kept to your word on not sharing your true reason for a hasty escape. No, that was something between you and Azriel only.

And even though your family had noticed a shift with Azriel during your absence, they chalked it up to only missing you. 

❊

Your reunion with your family was filled with laughter and chatter as they eagerly filled you in on everything you had missed during your absence. 6 months to Fae, in the grand scheme of things was such a small amount of time, but your life, your family dynamic was so different now that you felt as though you had missed so much. They seemed to take turns vying for your attention, each craving a moment in your company. Mor was the first to claim her spot, promptly sprawling across your lap, her hair cascading around her as she regaled you with tales of the latest gossip from Rita’s.

Next came Nyx, rousing from his nap to claim his turn on your lap. As you held him, a mixture of joy and sadness swirled within you, struck by how rapidly he was growing and how much you felt you had missed. Then it was Cassian's turn, settling on the floor between your legs with his wings spread awkwardly to either side of your chair. Apparently, you were the only one who could braid his hair gently enough, as Nesta was too harsh he had told you before sending his mate a glare which she ignored with an eye roll.

Your fingers moved with practised ease as they threaded through his locks, weaving them into two neat plaits while the voices of your family filled the room. Amidst the chatter, one name struck a chord within you, causing you to momentarily freeze.

“So yeah, Elain moved in with Lucien about four months ago,” Feyre continued, unaware of the effect her words had on you. “They’re living in Day Court now, but I’ll make sure to send word to her about your return. She’ll be so happy to know you’re back.”

Your gaze involuntarily drifted towards the Shadowsinger, who had been silent since your arrival but now fixed his intense stare on you. Confusion swirled within you. While you were aware of Lucien and Elain's bond, and you couldn't deny the strength of any mating bond, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something more between her and Azriel.

Wasn’t there?

If there wasn’t, what had you walked in on all those months ago?

"I swear they’ll be tying the knot soon, absolutely besotted with each other," Feyre exclaimed with a radiant smile.

"That's wonderful news, Fey. I'm genuinely happy for them. Perhaps we should plan a trip to visit them in Day soon," you suggested.

"Oh, count me in!" Mor chimed in enthusiastically. "And a chance to see Helion again wouldn't hurt," she added with a playful purr, eliciting an eye roll from you as you finished braiding Cassian's hair.

“Get the chance to have any fun on your trip?” Mor continued, shooting you a teasing look.

“Trip?” You scoffed. “It was a high-stakes mission, not some holiday.”

“No time for any kind of fun at all then?” She pouted. You knew exactly what she was implying.

You hesitated for a moment, you could feel his eyes on you. As if anticipating your answer. Azriel’s gaze hadn’t left you since you’d arrived, and if you didn’t know him so well you might have considered it unsettling. 

But you hadn't had any fun. As Mor liked to call it. Not that there hadn't been a few opportunities to seek the warmth of someones bed, but the calling to do so never came.

“No fun for me.” You ignored his gaze, tilting your head “Sadly.” you added. 

“Shame, I was really hoping for some juicy insights of your escapades.” Mor sang.

The conversation veered toward planning a long-overdue night out at Rita’s, and you let your friends debate whether it should be exclusively a girls' night, with Cassian humorously advocating for his inclusion.

Seizing a moment while your friends were engrossed in their discussion, you quietly rose from your seat and made your way toward the Shadowsinger, who observed you with an unreadable expression. Offering him a gentle smile, you gestured for him to follow you out of the room.

Your departure went unnoticed by the rest of your family, a testament to your usual stealthy movements. There was a reason you and Azriel were usually paired together on missions, always so silent and unseen. But, you felt a sense of urgency in having this conversation with Azriel, especially after six long months.

Out in the garden, the setting sun bathed the surroundings in a golden hue, casting warm light over the grass and flowers. You noticed here Elain's absence more, the garden not as vibrant without her green-fingered touch.

You settled onto a bench, closing your eyes momentarily to bask in the sun's rays kissing your face. Azriel could have just stayed in that moment indefinitely, captured by the soft expression on your face that basked under the sunlight. He moved quietly beside you, the proximity of you was something he had missed and it was taking every control he had not to hug you again.

And was it only a hug he wanted?

Either way he still felt unworthy of your touch.

“I think we should probably talk…” you chuckled sheepishly, suddenly feeling slightly awkward but you faced him, and he replied with a nod.

There were words brewing inside Azriel, thoughts and feelings he had only recently come to terms with in your absence. But before he could find the courage to speak, you surprised him with an unexpected apology.

“I’m really sorry Az.”

Azriel began to shake his head. He was confused, you had nothing to be sorry for.

“Az, please, let me say my piece,” you insisted, your hands finding his on his lap. Your touch sent a shiver down his spine as your thumb traced over the scars on his hands. “It was unfair of me. I’ve realised that now. The position I put you in.”

Azriel shook his head gently, but you pressed on, your gaze drifting to the sky as you cringed a little when reflecting on your confession you had dramatically spilled to Azriel all those months ago. “The expectations I had for you, expecting you to return my feelings when I had never even made my affection clear—it was unfair.”

“Y/n…” Azriel murmured softly, disbelief colouring his voice.

“It’s my fault for not being honest,” you continued, a self-deprecating laugh escaping your lips. “How can I expect someone to return my feelings if I don’t make them known? So silly of me, really.”

You squeezed his hands gently, and Azriel felt a tug at his heart as he listened to your words. “And I realised when I was away that it was okay if you didn’t feel the same. If you wanted someone else. Whether that be Elain…” You trailed off, acknowledging that perhaps that wasn't to be Azriel's fate anymore. “Or someone else entirely. As long as they made you happy.”

“Because truly, that’s all I want. And it’s genuinely what you deserve.”

Azriel was at a loss for words, his mind racing. This wasn’t how he had expected this conversation to go. No, he thought it would be a chance for him to be honest, but as he looked at you, so radiant and at peace he couldn’t bring himself to selfishly express his deepest desires.

Didn’t dare to disrupt the healing you had clearly worked so hard on.

“You’re so wonderful, Azriel,” you beamed, holding his hands tightly. “So wonderful that I’m just grateful for a part of you. This part of you—the part where we’re best friends.”

“So what do you say Az, best friends again?”

He saw it then, the slight fear in your eyes that he might reject this too. So he buried whatever feelings had creeped up these past months, assuring himself too that even just a small part of you was all he needed.

“Always.” A smile spread on his lips gently, and he watched as the shaky breath you’d been keeping in left your lips. You laughed softly before pouncing on the Shadowsinger, hugging him tightly.

This would be enough, he told himself.

This was all you needed, you told yourself.

Who would have guessed you'd both become a pair of liars.

Final Part >>

a/n: oh wait sorry, was this the second part you wanted...wait no, you wanted them to get together??....hmmm you might just have to wait and see ;) but I promise I'll try give you the resolution you want! - Lottie

Forever tags: @sleepylunarwolf @daily-dose-of-sass@alittlelostalittlefound-blog@milswrites@amberlynn98@marscardigan @illyrianbitch

[undercovercannibal]

I will forever be sad that we didn't get to see Hannibal's trial, the lost potential of it all keeps me awake at night.

Espec Will Graham's testimony and his subsequent cross examination.

Will being confronted with the fact that because he went undercover suspecting Hannibal of being a cannibal, he must have, if not known, at least highly suspected that some of the meals Hannibal's was serving him contained human meat. And yet he still ate them.

Just imagine the defense, in their best effort to undermine Will Graham's testimony (and shine a light on his own suspicious behavior) asking him how difficult it was for him to eat them? Maybe even being extra bold and asking him if they still tasted as good to him as before he started to suspect Hannibal? Hannibal is known as an excellent cook in the community after all.

How did Freddie Lounds describe the look in Hannibal's eyes when Will lied and said he could barely keep the food down?

[earlysunshines]

parenting trial

son chaeyoung x fem!reader ; fluff

synopsis: in which your date is interrupted when you hear someone’s child crying their eyes out

warnings: ummm none(?) ; not proofread

a/n: im actually supposed to be studying for my last final but uh oops... and happy pride!

chaeyoung’s head is in your lap, your fingers run through your hair as you two people watch, making up a background for each person that passes by.

an elderly woman walks a small poodle, humming a small tune as she does so. chaeyoung points to her and smiles.

“she’s definitely an undercover spy.” she says, making you laugh.

“was spy kids just permanently engraved in your brain after you watched it or...?”

chaeyoung turns her head and looks at you, offended. she pushes your face from where she is and you giggle at her expression. you scratch her scalp, then she rolls her eyes before explaining.

“it's the glasses, the way she holds herself, the poodle! who owns poodles? they’re definitely a breed planted by the government.”

you almost snort after hearing her little tangent.

“you’re so…” you move your hand down to squish her cheek for no reason. “creative.”

“thank you, i’m very proud of that trait.”

“why am i in love with you?" you mumble, looking at her squished cheek in between your fingers and her closed eyes. you smile at the answer in front of your eyes. “you’re so stupid.”

“you’re equally as dumb.”

“yeah okay whatev-“

your bickering is cutoff when you hear a loud wail, it catches pretty much everyone’s attention.

there’s a kid on the bench across the concrete path rubbing her eyes and sniffling. she looks to be around five years old, her bangs are quite wispy and her hair is cut just above her shoulders. she wipes her runny nose with the pink shirt she has on and starts to cry again — louder than ever — before quieting down in ten seconds.

chaeyoung looks at you — head still in your lap — and you look right back at her. the soothing movement of your hand in her scalp stops when she gets up to look at the kid as well.

“stay here love, i’m going to go check on the girl.” you say cupping chaeyoung’s face lightly before getting up from the blanket you had been on and putting on your clogs.

chaeyoung watches you walk towards the kid and exchange a few words, which quickly has the girl quiet as she directs her attention on you. in a minute, you walk back towards the blanket with your pointer finger in the girls grip. your girlfriends eyes soften at the sight.

you sit down on the blanket and urge the hesitant child to sit down next to you. the girl shakes her head, then looks at chaeyoung skeptically. your eyes widen at the realization and you smile softly, holding her hand in yours.

“this is chaeyoung, she’s my um…” you begin, pausing to lean over and ask your lover: “do kids know about girlfriends? i mean probably — definitely. but is it like, appropriate?”

chaeyoung giggles and nods, “i think so.”

you face towards the girl again and say, “this is my girlfriend chaeyoung. she’s really nice and sweet, come sit, she’s a great person. trust me.”

the girl looks at the two of you hesitantly then sits directly in front of you and your lover. she sniffles again, unable to look up.

“what’s your name?” chaeyoung asks, voice soft and sweet. “my name is chaeyoung.” she introduces, sticking out her hand for the girl to shake.

the girl simply looks at the hand that has tattoos scattered all over, observing them for a bit. she doesn’t answer; she’s too mesmerized by the little doodles.

“oh, these?” chaeyoung asks, pointing at the tattoos that have the girls attention. “i drew them myself.”

“really?” her eyes widen, she's amazed. this is the first time you and chaeyoung have heard her speak. her voice is small and hesitant, though it seems she’s willing to lend her trust to two adults that decided to care for her.

chaeyoung nods. “you see this one? i drew it two years ago. do you like it?”

the girl examines the flowers on her fingers, a small smile spreads across her lips.

“i like those.” the girl mumbles, reaching for chaeyoung’s fingers to get a better look.

“me too.” you agree, looking at chaeyoung lovingly.

“can you draw one on me?” the little girl asks, looking at your girlfriend with curious, hopeful eyes.

chaeyoung turns to look at you, making eye contact and tilting her head to silently ask for you to help her out. to be fair, this is someone's child and you can't just start vandalizing someone's lost child. the two of you have a silent interaction with raised brows, mixed expressions, and mouthed words before the child tugs at chaeyoungs hand again.

"please miss chaeyoung?" the little girl asks, pouting.

chaeyoung looks at you again, portruding her lower lip to mimic the girl. your girlfriend is already convinced, it's just you that has to give her the green light before she goes ham on this kids arm with her pens.

"um, hold on." you interject, "we don't know if your parents would be fine with that."

the girl frowns again after being reminded that her parents are nowhere to be found, then starts to tear up again. you panic and so does your girlfriend after she begins to get vocal again, a tear now falling down her cheek.

"okay okay! wait, wait." you quickly say, trying to prevent others in the park from looking at you, your girlfriend, and someone's lost child. "how about you tell us your name first before chaeyoung draws anything, yeah?"

"tara. tara hong laurent." she immediately says, then turns to chaeyoung, urging her to start doodling.

so you have her whole name, which was easy enough to get although quite concerning because she had just given out her government name to strangers. chaeyoung picks up her pen and starts to draw something small on her pinky, then mouths "ask... more..."

"um, okay tara." you start, looking at her skeptically. "when was the last time you saw your parents?"

she frowns again, looking up at you. "i miss them."

"i know," you say softly, pushing her hair to the side. chaeyoung watches the whole interaction, the small gesture, and the small smile you give her; chaeyoung melts. "that's why we're going to help you find them. do you know their names?"

"james and jihyuk." she answers, watching chaeyoung as she scrunches her brow and doodle a small flower on the back of her hand. "do you know them?"

"oh, i don't know a james or jihyuk, but we'll find them tara, don't worry."

she grins. "miss chaeyoung, you're very good at this."

"thank you." chaeyoung turns to look at you, there's a sparkle in her eyes. "do you want to draw on y/n?"

"chaeng i-"

tara interrupts you, beaming at the opportunity. "yes! yes! please? can I?"

chaeyoung smirks at you and giggles mischieviously before handing the pen to the girl, then grabbing your forearm and pushing it toward the little girl. "the floor is yours tara, but can you answer a few more questions?"

she nods aggressively, making both you and your girlfriend laugh.

chaeyoung continues, "so, where were your parents the last time you saw them? how did you lose them?"

your girlfriend hands the girl the pen, she grabs it eagerly. tara starts to scribble something just below your already existing tattoo, something not so far off from a bunny. it's a messy scribble, clearly done by a child, but it's adorable.

"we were by the water and then my dads both went to get something from the store with me... then I saw a rabbit in the store! it was as big as my head! and it started running around the store and I followed it and it went outside and I followed it again and it kept running away from me!" she explains with frustration. "and then I looked around and I couldn't find my dads... and I went to the benches over there before miss y/n found me."

she adds small whiskers on the bunny she's drawing on your forearm, the drawing is the size of her hand, taking up a lot of space -- but it's adorable.

she seems unbothered by the fact that she's basically missing now, too busy admiring her work and smiling up at you. "do you like it miss y/n?"

your lips turn up, your cheeks flush from how happy she looks, then you nod. "I love it tara."

"yay! is it as good as miss chaeyoung's?"

pretending to think to yourself, you put a finger on your chin and look up at the sky. a little dramatically, you hum, then look back at the bunny inked on your forearm.

leaning closer and lowering your voice -- but not too quietly so chaeyoung can hear -- you respond, "I think it's better than hers."

tara smiles with her teeth, then leaps into your arms and gives you a big hug. she's so small, at least compared to you, clinging onto you like a koala. she pulls away to smile even bigger. "thank you thank you! i think I want to be an artist someday."

you look down at her and chuckle before placing a hand on her head and fixing the strands poking out. "do what you love, okay? i think you'd make a great artist."

chaeyoung watches the whole interaction, her head in her palm and cheeks warming from how adorable you are with her. chaeyoung sigh adoringly just from the sight, falling a little more for you -- especially after you look up, make eye contact, and smile warmly at her. she feels like a popsicle on a burning day.

"tara, we should find your parents. they shouldn't be too far from here, I hope."

"do you want my dad's number? the one with the mustache."

you and chaeyoung look at each other again, mouths widening and faces looking dumbfounded; tara's known her dad's phone number this whole time. the two of you laugh like idiots.

you reach for your phone and hand it to tara. "could you type their number in? I'll call them and we'll get you back to them soon."

"on it!" tara responds with a fist in the air, punching up excitedly.

chaeyoung watches her sit down next to you, and how you tilt your head a little strangely to match her level and meet the screen of your phone. tara's little fingers tap at the screen, then she shoves the phone up and hits your nose, eliciting a small squeak from you.

you rub your and nose and chaeyoung puts a hand to her mouth to stifle the laugh that's threatening to come out -- loud and so strong it'll have her falling down on the blanket -- she barely manages to do so.

rolling your eyes at her, you bring the phone up to your ear and wait for an answer. ten seconds pass before you hear a low "hello?" from the other end of the line.

"hi, is this james? or-- no, maybe jihyuk?"

"how did you get my number?" the man asks, his voice Is so low that it catches you off guard, but he's soft-spoken. "who are you?"

"hi, i'm not sure which dad this is but we found your daughter on a bench crying. she gave us your number and -- my girlfriend and I -- we've just been watching over her. we didn't know she knew her parents' numbers."

the man man lets out a sigh, it sounds like a weight has been lifted off his shoulders. "oh dear, y/n right? you're a life saver, thank you. where are you located? near the riverside I assume?"

"yeah, that's right. would you like us to meet you there soon? by the convenience store? it's not too far from us."

"yes, that's perfect. thank you so much, my husband and I have been panicking like crazy. see you soon."

"of course." you respond before hanging up. chaeyoung tilts her head, silently asking for a brief explanation. you look at tara, then hold her hand comfortingly. "we're going to go find your dads okay?"

tara nods before standing up, you and chaeyoung get up with her. the three of you all work together to fold the thin blanket that was previously under you, then shove it in the tote bag you had brought.

as you hang the tote bag on your shoulder, you feel your pointer finger being tugged at and look over to see tara. she's also holding chaeyoung's hand-- well, her pointer, middle, and ring finger. chaeyoung looks at you and smiles, mouthing a "she's adorable" in your direction. you nod in agreement and mouth back, "not as adorable as you" before winking teasingly, making chaeyoung roll her eyes and look away to conceal the faint dust of pink on her cheek.

the three of you make your way to the little riverside convenience store, tara in between you and your lovely girlfriend. you and your lover share eye contact again, both of you falling deeper in love without knowing it.

tara starts to drag you over to the railings near the riverside, but you and chaeyoung resist (somehow terribly, she's dragging the two of you with enough force for two grown adults to struggle holding her back), instead redirecting her to where her parents should be.

you catch the convenience store in the distance, then look down at tara. "almost there, you alright?"

"mhm!"

chaeyoung smiles at this side of you, she's never seen you so caring. you've always been an idiot or overly teasing with your friends -- she loves that, it's why she fell for you -- never this protective and caring.

you were always caring with your friends, attentive to their well-being. you were even more caring with chaeyoung, in a subtle way she always noticed. usually quiet in how you helped others, seeing you so sweet with this little girl shows how genuine and lovely you are. chaeyoung realizes that if you had kids someday, she’d love to be around a protective, caring you—just like you are right now.

the revelation is exciting, chaeyoung finds another way to love you even harder.

you spot two men outside the store. one stands out more—a big, buff, tall man. next to him is a shorter, lankier man with his hand on the other's shoulder, seemingly calming the bigger man with his touch -- just like how you comfort chaeyoung.

tara jumps, then lets go of both you and chaeyoung, running up to the two men and yelling "papa!"

the bigger man catches her in a hug, holding her close and his huge arms practically engulf her. his eyes widen and soften at the same time, then he kisses tara's temple and sighs in relief.

"tara! oh darling, i've been worried sick, your dad and I have both been." the voice is the same one you had heard on the phone earlier, the octave of his voice matches his appearance but the softness and care he shows reminds you of a huge teddy bear.

the smaller man looks at you and chaeyoung, offering a sincere, thankful smile. "thank you for taking care of our daughter, we've been quite worried."

he has a thick french accent, and just his appearance, mannerisms, and the way his words flow out make him seem a bit intimidating. she puts his hand out for you and introduces himself, "jihyuk."

you shake his hand before responding, "y/n."

chaeyoung also does the same, introducing herself and giving him a grin, "chaeyoung."

"thank you for taking care of her, seriously, we owe you the world." the other says, from what you can remember, he should be james since jihyuk has already been introduced.

chaeyoung waves her hand, then holds yours, squeezing tightly as she says, "my girlfriend noticed your daughter crying on a bench, she wanted to help. we were worried."

you nod and send her a quick smile. "ah! also, sorry about the scribbles on her..." you panic a bit, unsure of whether they'd approve of the artwork on her. "we tried to warm up to her and ask her questions, but she wouldn't budge until my girlfriend had drawn something on her." you explain, then you frantically start to ramble, "I'm so sorry about that, my girlfriend's tattoos caught her eye and she--"

jihyuk places his hand on yours before fixing the glasses he wears to sit on his nose bridge. his voice is higher, but he speaks with certainty and some slight authority in his tone, voice levelled, "it's alright dear, we're just glad that our daughter is well."

"right, yeah."

chaeyoung laughs at you and holds your hand a little tighter.

tara starts to squirm in her other dads grip, which urges james to set her down. she runs over to chaeyoung, hugging a leg and muttering, "thank you miss chaeyoung for the drawings, can you do it again sometime?"

your girlfriend looks at you, you look over at james, james looks at his husband jihyuk. jihyuk laughs and nods approvingly.

chaeyoung bends down to meet her level, then fixes the wispy bangs. "of course, anytime."

"yay!" tara beams, then hugs chaeyoung tightly. you watch the whole interaction, feeling your heart overload with adoration, threatening to burst out of your chest.

then tara runs over to you, almost making you lose balance when she collapses into your leg and holds on. you do the same as chaeyoung had done: meet her level and smile at her. "hi tara."

"thank you for helping me y/n, you're very beautiful and kind." your lips twitch a bit; she's seriously adorable. you hold her hand in yours and manage to mutter a low, "thank you."

tara hugs you one more time, it's warm and lovely and wow you never really thought about having kids--but now it's all you can think of as the small, energetic child hugs you with adoration and care.

she runs back to jihyuk and he holds her small hand in his.

james walks up to you, tilting his head down to match your level. this guy has to be at least 6'4 or something. despite his build, he's sweet just from how he smiles at you and the little glint in his eyes.

"i hope you don't mind, i'm going to save your number and," he looks over at his daughter and lover. "I hope we can repay you with coffee or lunch sometime in the future." then, he looks over to chaeyoung, his head tilting down even more. "tara seems to love the art on her skin, and we'd love for her to smile like this again. and you two are such a lovely, kind couple. thank you for this, you saved me from a heart attack."

chaeyoung nods and assures, "it's no problem, we're glad you're all back together."

jihyuk stands next to his husband and links arms subtly before looking up at him, then back to the two of you. "thank you chaeyoung and y/n. we hate to cut this short, but we have to get to dinner on time with my parents. thank you again."

"it's no problem, you all enjoy the dinner alright?" you respond, jihyuk's diastema between his two front teeth is shown when he flashes a smile.

tara waves to you and you watch the small family leave.

chaeyoung kisses your cheek suddenly--you turn in surprise.

"what was that for?"

"you are so adorable, i hate you."

you can't help but chuckle before pecking her lips.

"you love me."

she rolls her eyes before dragging you away from the convenience store and towards the little viewing area nearby.

the breeze hits you two perfectly as you both lean against the railing, chaeyoung leans her head against your shoulder and kisses it through the cloth of your shirt. you turn to press a kiss on her forehead, watching boats make their way to their destination, birds travelling, and the waves flow calmly.

your girlfriend holds your hand and kisses the back of it. "do you want kids?"

"i'm," you pause, chaeyoung watches your lips part as you think of a response. "I'm not against it, but not now I think. if and whenever it happens, I think you'd be the greatest mom ever."

"no," she looks at your features with admiration. "you'd be better." she moves over to kiss your lips and pulls away just barely, lips brushing against yours. "I've never really thought about it much, kids and all." she kisses you once more, then pulls away fully in order to gaze at all of your features. chaeyoung blows some of your hair out of the way, making you laugh.

"me neither."

"but," she begins again, "if it's with you, I know i'd be set just waking up to see you being the mother of our kid. i really like this side of you."

"thanks." you mumble, savoring the moment of intimacy and tenderness. "i'd love to see what kinds of new art would pop up on our child's skin everytime I come back from work."

her face makes its way to the crook of your neck as she giggles. she holds you close.

"there's a lot to look forward to."

"as long as you're in my future I'm fine with anything chaeng."

[sp1d3rpu7k]

What ultimately gets me every time about Star Wars(including the Star Wars Jedi Apprentice series) is how much Obi-Wan suffered throughout it all, as well as his destiny of infinite sadness. From before he had even become a man, he was fighting for the light and for good and it backfired in every instance. He worked hard as an initiate to find a master to take him on, but was ultimately unsuccessful until Bandomeer where Qui-Gon finally decided to take him. He did his best to be a good padawan and still follow the will of the force, especially once Melida/Daan happened and he chose to stay with the Young to help them fight. He still ended up leaving the order and breaking his bond with Qui-Gon to stay and help the Young. But Cerasi still ended up dead anyway and so he went back to the Jedi. We also know that Obi-Wan had a mission on Mandalore when he was still a padawan, where he was assigned to protect Duchess Satine Kryze, and where he consequently fell in love with her. Obi-Wan himself confirmed that he would have left the order(again) and chosen to stay with Satine if she had only asked him, but she never did. Obi-Wan wasn’t allowed that happiness or love. Then later Obi-Wan has to watch Satine be murdered by Maul right in front of him as he is helpless. He had to watch as Qui-Gon freed Anakin from slavery and decided to take Anakin on and thrust Obi-Wan into the knighting trials when he was clearly not ready. Obi-Wan had to watch as Qui-Gon dropped dead from Maul’s killing strike while protecting him and Anakin that same week. Obi-Wan had to promise to Qui-Gon to train Anakin, a challenge that Obi-Wan was in no way prepared or ready for as a freshly padawan-turned-knight. Obi-Wan had to suffer through slavery on Zygerria with Rex, an experience where he became severely injured and suffered immensely from both his physical injuries and the mental and emotional injuries of witnessing the other slaves hurting too. How about the Rako Hardeen mission? Obi-Wan had to do what the council(and the chancellor) asked and follow through with the mission, changing himself bodily and suffering mentally in the process. Obi-Wan was harassed over the mission and the fact that he did not inform people of the mission prior. Yet he was only doing what he had to- an undercover mission where the details HAD to be classified. How about Anakin’s betrayal? Obi-Wan had to watch as the boy he RAISED and loved like his own son or younger brother fell. Watched him turn so dark that he had to put him down. Obi-Wan had to force himself to do what needed to be done to keep Anakin from taking any further harmful and murderous actions. Obi-Wan had to deal with the fallout of his SON falling hard to the point where he slaughtered the jedi younglings in cold blood and turned away from everything Obi-Wan had taught him. Obi-Wan had to help Padme through her pregnancy and then urgently rush to find them good homes where they can be raised safely away from their father. Obi-Wan had to suffer through Order 66 and watching his men that he cared deeply for turn on him. Obi-Wan had to witness the chaos of Jedi masters and knights and padawans dropping one after the other from the betrayal of the clones(since the Jedi did not know of the inhibitor chips at the time- making it even more heartbreaking for them). Obi-Wan had to exile himself on Tatooine after everything that had gone down, withering away in both appearance and spirit. And then, he had to die, die by being killed by his own ex-padawan- his son.

[forbidden-sleuth]

I love my laptop

[bellisima-writes]

A GO Season 3 Fanfic Friday

Hello fandom fam,

First let's get a few things out of the way - I believe the victims, and always have - they deserve justice and what happened with GO S3, I hope, is only the beginning. Having a 90 minute series finale instead of an entire season stings, but if it protects vulnerable people and gives consequences for a sexual predator, then it is what HAS to happen. We can be sad, but we must remain enraged at the actual cause, and him alone.

NOW. This is a fanworks blog, so I feel compelled to shout from the rooftops - There are COUNTLESS SEASON 3 SPECULATION/POST SEASON 2 FANFICS OUT THERE. And I know there is a population of the fandom who avoids them because they don't want to be disappointed (I was this person) - but guess what! YOU DON'T HAVE TO WORRY ANYMORE.

So dig in, let loose, read every bit of Season 3 fic as your heart desires and choose the one you love the most as your version.

Here are a few of my favorite completed Post Season 2 works that have stayed with me:

Please note - Now, I've not read as many post season 2 fics as others, and there are a few giants that are not on here, and that's not to say anything about the quality of those works at all. I am just a human, with my own tastes and things I gravitate towards and things I shy away from.

Most canon compliant:

Factory Settings - the original and the best with an air of mystery that makes it almost magical. This is the closest to canon season 3 story I've read. The gist is after Aziraphale returns to Heaven he finds the Starmaker standing in front of him in Crowley's clothes, with no recollection of his life as a Demon. It's a beautiful story that if you haven't read yet, you should.

Sexiest:

We Can't Keep Meeting Like This by @gingiekittycat - if you want to read the sexiest, angstiest, heart-breakingest version of Season 3 imaginable, this is it. I LOVED this story, but I love this type of angst, so proceed with caution. Aziraphale and Crowley meet once a year to discuss the Second Coming, but instead of planning they keep having sex. There is a fully blown plot driven story here that is so great. When you're ready to handle heavy angst and the hottest smut around, read this.

Funniest:

Trial & Error by @fellshish - Fellshish is my favorite author to read when I need to smile, and Trial & Error is a fantastic post season 2 fic if you need some levity and a lot of heart. The plot is simple - Crowley is brought to Heaven to face charges that he engaged in trying to tempt an angel. The way Fellshish writes Crowley is one of my favorites: carrying himself with both his heart on his sleeve while also maintaining an unwavering amount of self worth and confidence, even if it's fragile. Crowley knows who he loves, and he knows who he is, and I find the balance of the two is rare in post season 2 fics.

Fics by lesser known authors: I always like to highlight the works of a few lesser known fics because our fandom is overflowing with amazingly talented people. So here are a few I've read that stood out despite not being as popular as the ones above.

The Beginning of the End (Again) by @addledmongoose - a sweet post season 2 story that focuses on Crowley being employed by Hell to stop the Second Coming by showing Jesus around Earth and trying to convince him not to end the world. Supreme Archangel Aziraphale hears about these clandestine rendezvous and is...jealous? The characters in this are spot on, paying respect to both Aziraphale and Crowley. Some angst, but not much, and lots of sweetness. And BAMF Aziraphale coming in strong to save the day. I definitely hoped for some jealousy from Aziraphale around Crowley and Jesus' relationship in season 3, and since that's not looking likely now, this fic will always hold a special place in my heart.

A Place for the End of the World by @kitty-kat-undercover - another tender and unique take on a Season 3. The premise is, after Aziraphale returns to Heaven the Second Coming is happening fast, so Crowley heads to an old friend's house in deep rural Canada to spend the end of days time. The characters have a ton of heart with some really lovely OCs that rounded out the story nicely. The prose in this one are the standout, as well as the tender care and time that's taken to paint a picture of the beautiful landscape as well as Crowley's heart. Like a warm cup of cocoa, this one is a slower, sweeter take on a Season 3, but it could be what people need right now. Also, never seen a better take on jealous Aziraphale than in this fic. Raging, angry, jealous Angel.

And because life is short, I'll throw my own in here - Time Marches Forward. More of a sequel to Season 1 than Season 2, if Season 1 ended with the final fifteen. This story follows Aziraphale in Heaven and Crowley on Earth as they march towards the Second Coming. No book of life, no deconstructing what secrets lie in the final fifteen. In addition to Az and C, this story has an angsty and powerful teenage antichrist coping with the knowledge of what he is and how he fits into the world and the upcoming plans for everything to end, a witch contending with knowing she destroyed the key to saving everything, and a Messiah who's been left alone for 2,000 years, waiting for his "big comeback." Lots of plot, in-depth character arcs for everyone involved, an incredible amount of heart, and an actual resolution that includes justice for Heaven, Hell and humanity. This story is very dear to me.

AND IF NONE OF THESE SOUND GOOD - Here you go: Post-Good Omens (TV) Season 2 - there are over 1200 works under this tag.

Go forth and feast, dear fandom friends.