#until they could restore his soul

[angelsdean]

the thing is, jack literally is not a toddler. like i am all for baby jack AUs and headcanons but in canon he is not a baby in an adult body. the narrative does not treat him as a toddler. they settle this debate in jack's second (2nd) episode when jack is mimicking dean (bc he imprinted on him like a baby duck) and he goes to drink a beer and they let him because he's not actually a baby despite being new to the world. it's the same as when amara is born and grows up fast. she is not still a baby when, a very short time later, she is in her fully adult form. jack is a young adult, who yes is a bit naive and learning abt the world, but it's more on par with like angels being new to the world and learning abt humanity, (like cas.)

jack is also an incredibly powerful being! he is literally thee most powerful being on earth, more powerful than any archangel, and only second in power to chuck-amara. and chuck fears him. especially when jack goes soulless. everything that happens in Moriah is because chuck is angling for them to do away with his jack-problem. he's moving the pieces on the board, fueling tfw's (yes all of them) already uneasy feelings about soulless jack and telling them thee Only way to stop jack is to kill him. chuck also establishes that he's a writer and writers lie early on in the episode. then he tells them there's no way to save jack, only kill him. that chuck's hands are tied and restoring souls is beyond his abilities (he literally created souls !! he's GOD !!). he's literally lying to them thee whole time. and it all gets revealed when sam realizes chuck IS scared of jack and that he knows where jack and dean are and that everything is going according to plan and that he's enjoying it. and then dean does something chuck doesn't expect, he doesn't go through with what chuck wants him to do! he disrupts the narrative ! he chooses free will!!! he will not kill his kid. he won't do it. he throws the gun away because he can't do it. jack, very much like dean during the michael arc, is prepared to die if it's for the greater good.

like i said before, jack mimics dean. jack loves dean. jack learned so much from dean's example. (also, an aside but. dean and jack do so much bonding off screen. just from the references to their movie watching alone-- they've watched the lost boys 36 times--it's clear they've spent a lot of time together). anyways, jack learns a lot from dean and he and dean both feel similarly re: sacrifice. jack thinks the same about sacrificing dean during the michael arc, he tells cas it doesn't matter if they can't save dean if it means ridding the world from the danger of michael. similarly, soulless jack IS a threat to the world because he is thee most powerful being in the world after god and right now he is behaving unpredictably. they are right to be afraid of him (and yes they love him, but all of tfw currently fears him.) still, despite dean and jack sharing these similar views, neither of them could follow through with killing the other when it comes down to it.

anyway, all some people want to remember abt 14x20 / jack's soulless arc is dean pointing a gun at jack / putting him in the box but literally dean cannot and does not kill jack and actively goes against god's manipulation. additionally, jack is not a baby who just made a mistake and everyone is overreacting. of course he didn't mean to kill mary, but they are not irrational for being afraid of jack, who is an extremely powerful supernatural being who currently is behaving erratically and where loss of control results in fatal consequences for others. like they are Right to want to take precautions and find a solution to protect the world from jack who at the moment is very much like a bomb that could go off on a whim. also this IS a supernatural fantasy show, like that context matters. they are not putting their literal baby in a box for, like spilling orange juice. they are trying to deal with a supernatural threat on the "dealing with supernatural threats" show. cas even suggests putting jack in the cage / binding jack. they are all afraid of him and looking for a solution until they can figure out a way to save him. and the only reason anyone starts talking about killing jack is when chuck is the one to suggest it as Thee Only Option (because again, it's what chuck wants to happen)

[soullessjack]

i think we need to start talking more about jack's powers actually and how cool he is for them and the fact that he SHOULD be more terrifying they shouldve given him more genuine horror moments i think <3 - 13x02.

need u to imagine harper learning about what a fucking Critter jack can be

i actually have thought about it before and I think she would be soooooo into it like holy shit. Imagine her stabbing jack and thinking she can finally zombify him but he doesn’t die and she’s like oh my goddddd you’re not human what are you Oohohohoh they are so perfect (〃´𓎟`〃)

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷

also the fact that jack has been fully aware of how powerful and dangerous he is since like day one but only really uses it as a threat or leverage and to be a downright bitch to people he doesn’t like while still being adamant on maintaining his silly normal small town boy image … he is so very special

[katsukikitten]

Retired pro hero Bakugou buying a really old abandoned home in Japan and restoring it while living in it.

It's all he's got, a lot of his friends have wives, families, kids, some of them even expecting a first grandkid and Bakugou in his 40s has nothing of his life to show for aside from the undisputed number one spot on the hero charts for 20 years straight and more scars than he can count.

He feels he relates to the house, old, once adored but now empty.

He wants to change that, wants to be more than an idea or idol, wants to disassociate from Dynamight and just be Bakugou Katsuki but he isn't sure he knows who that is. Dynamight is still parts of him yes but exaggerated, in all his years Katsuki knows he can soften he just doesn't know where.

Although he's ready to find out. Sadly or maybe fortunately, he's the type of man who has to find out through action and hard work. He bought the house site unseen, didn't even Google what the front of the home looked like he didn't care.

Standing in front of his mostly dilapidated home he feels good, crossing his arms over his chest as he lets his mind wander on where to start. Eyes sharp, cutting into the features of the home as he assesses just like he would any villain situation.

"Excuse me Dyna-" You clear your throat before he looks at you, as you remember his retiring announcement of him saying Dynamight can go fuck himself. I'm Bakugou Katsuki now.

"Excuse me Bakugou. I brought you a little welcome gift. I'm your neighbor." You don't flinch when his heavy gaze flicks to you, don't shy away from his snarl and if anything your smile grows as you offer up the bento and plate of cookies.

He doesn't take them and you don't take offense, just gently pull them back to yourself as you look at the home

"I'm so happy you bought the Sato house. They were good neighbors. They lived here when I was younger by both passed suddenly. Old age does that ya know? They didn't have any children but Mrs. Sato taught me her special rice for bentos."

You're rambling but you don't care, you'd just bought your childhood home from your parents a month prior. Fearful your home would suffer the same fate as the Satos. That the love and memories would be washed away by the rain and neglect. That the air around the home would worsen each year it went unaccompanied until it became so stagnant with neglect it became a miasma that not even the toughest soul could stomach.

Yet here stood Bakugou strong and tall outside a broken home.

"I don't think it's anything special by the way. Just a bit more soy sauce or sesame seed oil, I think she was what made it special."

Katsuki looks down at you for a long time, sees your fingers twitch against the fabric of the neatly wrapped bento, watches you swallow thickly and lashes flutter to combat the burn in your eyes as you stare at the home. You turn to face him, give a polite smile and nod of your head in a brief good bye before his voice stops you.

"I'll be the judge of that." You furrow your brows in confusion, looking up at him before his big warm palm comes under the bento to lift from your hands, "If the rice is special or not."

He watches your face light up, a true genuine smile that could compete with the sun and he feels something deep in his chest ache. Feels it yearn to reach out to you but he stands firm in his spot as he watches you disappear down the short overgrown walk way back to your home.

He doesn't even need to try the fucking rice to know the answer.

The rice was going to be special because you made it, Katsuki's sure of it.

[dimonds456-art]

CUPHEAD CROSSOVER!

@year2000electronics ask and ye shall receive

Ramblings under the cut!

The general idea is that the AU follows a similar story structure to Cuphead, but the lore is similar to Gravity Falls. There's just one key difference: everyone can see and interact with Bill. He just can't really interact with our world. Yet.

Bill is a projection, brought forth by Gideon Gleeful. He would allow Bill free presence, and in return, Bill basically made him famous, AND his Earthen right-hand. So he takes the place of King Dice.

From there, the history is almost the same as GF. Ford came here to investigate anomalies, found Gravity Falls, met Bill, and started building a portal. The possession came with a different cost this time, though; Ford's soul. Bill promised he'd be in good hands and that it's just kinda part of the gig, but because of this, Bill's ability to possess him never left.

Once Ford got the metal plate installed, Bill was limited, sure, but he still had control of the soul contract, meaning he could basically just. Force Ford to do shit. The main limiting factor here is that he has to know where Ford is and has to be able to see him. If he can't see him, he can't control him. Once Ford is in the multiverse, this is the main reason Bill can't get him. He doesn't know where Ford is.

The main story is just everyone in Gravity Falls making really really stupid mistakes. The only person who has not fallen for Bill's games is Stan, who- like Elder Kettle- tried to warn the twins about making bad deals, but ultimately this fell through when they got curious and visited Gideon's tent, where Bill was also observing.

In my interpretation of this AU, Pacifica takes the place of Ms Chalice. She's hurt and alone, and her dad made a deal with Cipher that resulted in. this. I like to think it was a Monkey's Paw type scenario, but my brain is an egg so I'll figure that one out later. Basically Pacifica wants her body back (ghost rules the same as the DLC), so she decides to help Dipper and Mabel under the belief that they can assist her once Bill is defeated.

However, this falls through. However the deal worked, it persists, and Pacifica starts to wonder if she'll always be a ghost. But that's where Ford comes in.

Ford, taking the place of Saltbaker (kinda? kinda.), offers to try and help her restore her physical form. Call in the twins and let's be off let's go. He says he needs to build a machine that could potentially reverse the effects permanently, and he needs parts. So that's what the twins are doing. The cookie is replaced with an astro-physical restorative remote, but a really, really weak one, and it requires a host to work, keeping the idea that one of them will always be a ghost until the machine is done.

The only problem with this plan is that Ford's contract with Bill is not up, and was not destroyed by Dipper and Mabel, and Bill can see him now. So. In short, that ain't Ford.

The parts the kids were gathering were for the portal.

Once they figure that out, we get a Baking the Wondertart equivalent, Bill is defeated, and in doing so, Ford is freed of the contract as well, meaning Bill can't mess with him anymore.

Not sure if Bill lives all the way to the end of this story, but there is a good chance unless I figure out how to kill him, seeing as Weirdmageddon probably doesn't happen here.

Gotta think on it more, but that's the basic idea. First draft. All of this is subject to change hdfsdfjh

[bunnyreaper]

simon is your most precious bear, but he won't settle for just that.

(18+/MDNI, plushophilia, mild moment of dubcon?)

you'd found him in a charity shop one day and couldn't walk away without him in your arms--the most darling little bear you've ever seen. 

the stitching on his button eyes was barely present, the threads on his body were also loose, and his fur was a little more than worse for wear. usually a sign of a bear well-loved, but you got the feeling looking at him and his missing smile that his state wasn't from something entirely different. 

you'd taken him home and treasured him ever since. restitched his eyes and his precariously hanging limbs, polished his little plastic nose and tied a ribbon around his neck.

you'd tried sewing in a smile underneath his cute little nose, but found the expression didn't quite suit him. when you tried again, arching the stiches downward, you found you much preferred him as your grumpy bear anyway.

once he was pampered and restored, you sat him pride of place on your pillow, having him guard you and keep watch over your bed whenever you weren't in it. at night you held him close, squeezed him tight until you drifted off to sleep--dreams that are always so sweet and peaceful, and you swear it's because he keeps the nightmares at bay. 

little did you know of the soul trapped inside--simon.

he'd fallen in love just as you had, obsessed with the way you'd looked at him and never stopped looking--obsessed with the way you cared for him and held him. he'd never liked being trapped as a bear until you took him home, where he belonged. 

now he took his role as your stuffie very seriously. and clearly, it paid off, as he quickly became the favourite of all your plushies--the one you treasured above all others.

fair to say simon had captured your heart, and in turn, he was always doted on and adored by you. never was he allowed to slide off the bed to be forgotten, never was there a day that went by where he wasn't kissed or cuddled by you.

but sometimes he had to be moved from his place, his spot. when you had visitors over, he'd be replaced in the bed by strange figures, stuck on the nightstand as a spectator to it all.

the comforts they provided were different, bringing bitten lower lips and breathy moans rather than sweet smiles and gentle whispers. and all the while simon was trapped, doomed to watch other men in the bed the two of you shared--knowing deep down in his stuffing that if he were just human again, he could do a much better job. 

late one night, after another visitor, you return to the comfort of your bed with simon clutched between your arms. you squeeze him as tight as you can--a sweet, satisfied smile leaving you as you hold him close and embrace the comfort and safety he provides.

"one of these days, they won't be disappointing." you sigh, releasing your disappointment and unknowingly unleashing wishful magic

it's then simon feels it, something inside him he hasn't felt in so long, as his body shifts from bear to man. 

he should do something about the way you scream, soothe you as he usually does, but right now, there is nothing calming or comforting in the way he feels right now--just pure posessive lust. codependant, ugly love. 

simon takes advantage of his newfound form, using muscular arms to crush you into the bed, determined to make up for lost time no matter what it takes. his dick hardens instantly, so used to the feel of your body against him and yet intoxicated by all the new sensations.

he expects you to keep struggling, to fight back in disbelief, but when the shock wears off he delights in the way you look at him--just as enamoured as you had the first time you ever laid eyes on him.

[minimomoe]

How to Train your Demon

Pairing: trueform! Sukuna x Fem Reader

Summary: Life has all kinds of wins and losses. You don't know which category to put your new demon husband in though.

Tags: MDNI!, red string of fate trope, true form sukuna, librarian reader, soul mates, reincarnation, accidental summoning, love at first sight (buti it's one-sided (until it's not)), Sukuna is demon, but he's v much in love, smut and stuff eventually i guess....

Song inspo: E.V.O.L- MARINA

Part I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. (completed!)

Rule no. 1: Don't show fear

It was a mistake. A comical, nonsensical, monumental mistake, but a mistake nonetheless. You didn’t mean to create a soul tie with a demon . All you did was read a torn up book from the library. Was it an occult book about spiritual practices in the Japanese Heian era? Yes… but it doesn’t warrant an eldritch horror being your life partner. 

Actually, according to the demon, you didn’t create the soul tie, he has been waiting for you all his life. Cute, but it didn’t make the situation any better. Damn your natural inclination to catch the old and withered items thrown into the donation boxes of the library you worked at. It just pained your heart to see pages falling out of books, and the ominous leather bound grimoire was no exception. 

Restoration was one of your favorite things to do. Knowledge is always worth saving, no matter how old it may be. Books were your life. You found yourself lost in them, enchanted, terrified, taught. You had no genre as your favorite. Everything was welcomed, nothing was off limits. You knew a little bit of every culture, every study, every block buster fantasy. If you could, you’d build a machine that would let you live inside of a book and experience the scene yourself. 

Technically you could ask your all powerful demon to do that, but you didn’t want to deal with him right now.

You still weren’t all too sure on how it happened. First you were glueing the pages back to the spine of the book, running your fingers over the deckled edges when you opened a page that was stuck together. You carefully peeled it apart, a task that took ten minutes to do to avoid any additional tears, and opened up to a page that was different from the rest. The words were written in a rush, the strokes of the characters dragging much longer than it should. You only knew a tiny bit of Japanese (but much more of Latin, Russian, Yoruba, and French from having just an abundance of time on your hands), but this time you could make out some of the words. 

You muttered the ones you knew for sure, used context clues for the ones that were beyond reading. It didn’t make a lick of sense to you. You closed the book with a clamp so that the glue would set and decided to come back to it tomorrow since it was closing time. There was no rush of wind, flash of lightning, or eerie sounds. Just you and the screech of a thousand cicadas as soon as you stepped outside to walk to your car. A normal Thursday night.

Until it wasn’t. 

You shuffled around your house with a new arc from your favorite novelist in one hand, a glass of wine in the other, and the largest frame of glasses known to man perched on your nose. Jazz music quietly spilled out from your hidden speakers, preventing the house from getting a little too quiet as you lived alone with your cat. It was a total boring cliche, you were well aware, but you were happy with your life. You had friends who you trusted, a great relationship with your parents, and just recently got out of a relationship with someone who you didn’t hate, you just grew apart. There was no chaotic, negative energy to feast on in your household and you liked it that way. 

You thought you heard your cat clawing on the door when you were snuggled away in your bed. You flipped the covers over and went to let her in to snuggle with you. 

“I’m so sorry, Cleo. I thought you were already in here with me,” you said, scooping her up from the floor. The ragdoll cat begrudgingly accepted your kisses of apology. You set her down on the bed, watching her find a good spot to curl up in and smiled. You went to reach for your wine glass you knew that you set on your nightstand, but there was nothing in the glass. You were sure that you didn’t finish it. You paced yourself well enough for it to last until at least chapter five, but there wasn’t a drop of alcohol left. 

“The quality of sake has diminished over the years, I see.” 

The voice came from all around the room but also deep in your chest. Cleo hissed, making a run for it out of your door, leaving you wildly spinning around for the intruder. You lunged for the heavy duty taser you kept in your nightstand, but when you turned around there was nobody there.

“What is that?” 

The bone chilling voice spoke again. Was it one person or many, you couldn’t tell. 

“I— I have a weapon!” You tried to steady your voice but it was hopeless. You were terrified. There was nobody there but you could feel a heavy presence in the room. 

“You call that a weapon?” The voice laughed. “The only weapon my wife needs is me.”

The statement made you falter. “Wife? Who are you?”

You turned around once again and nearly jumped out of your skin. A man, or a close approximation of one, sat on your bed flicking through your book. It was impossible, but he had twice as many limbs on his top half than he should, and double the amount of eyes. They were bright and red when scanning through your novel. “What language is this?” 

“F-french,” you whispered. You were dreaming. You had to be. That was the only way this could be happening. Still, dream or not, you had to protect yourself. You pressed your taser and watched the prongs leap out and touch his bare skin. He looked unbothered, merely looking down at his stomach where the taser landed and moved his arm to reveal a mouth on his abdomen. A tongue flopped out and licked the prongs, dragging it back to the mouth and the taser was slowly dragged out of your hands and into the mouth. You watched in horror as the hard plastic was crushed to pieces in front of your very eyes. 

“Useless weapon,” he reiterated, this time looking directly at you. “Don’t insult me again.” 

“Pl—please don’t hurt me.” There was nothing left to do but beg. You already punched yourself till blood was drawn. This was not a dream, you were looking at a real, evil monster who didn’t know French and ate high voltage tasers. 

He rose from your bed. You crawled away as much as you could until you bumped into a wall and still you wanted to move through it. He stood before you, looking over your trembling frame and called out for you. 

“Rise.” 

You rose, unsure if you really had a choice in the matter. One of his many hands cupped the side of your face. A clawed thumb brushed away the tear that fell on your cheek.

“Why do you weep?”

“Um… well… I don’t really know who you are,” you said honestly. You were still pinned to the wall, unable to flee and he took up your entire frame of sight. He nodded, removing his hand from your face and raising it in the air. You thought he was going to strike you and you flinched. When you opened your eyes again he was multiple steps away from you, still raising his palm.

“Time has faded your memory of me. You are my wife, and I am your husband. The string of fate proves that we are mates.” 

He stated it so matter of factly. You are my wife, and I am your husband. My wife, your husband. Mates. Forget dreaming, you have officially lost your mind. 

“I don’t… remember agreeing to that,” you said carefully. The words “husband” and “wife” bounced in your head in a crazy echo. You slumped to the floor, your body suddenly very tired. A laugh bubbled up your throat and escaped your mouth. So much for your boring life.

“Do you not feel the connection? The string is tied from my last finger to yours.” You looked at your hand, not seeing any supposed string and shook your head. 

He frowned. “You do not agree to it. It has been decided.” He crouched in front of you, inspecting your face earnestly. One side of his face was strange, not normal skin, instead inhuman, bumpy and shades darker. 

“You look the same after all this time,” he murmured. “I will make you remember.” 

“Let’s not do that,” you said quickly. “I don’t even know your name and I am not married. I’m a librarian and I have a cat. And I have never, ever met you before.”

“I am known as Sukuna, among other names,” he responded to one of your distresses. “What title is a librarian?”

This time you laughed. An deranged laugh, loud and unbecoming. Sukuna waited as impatiently as he could for you to be finished, but you kept on cackling. Once out of breath, you wiped the tears out of your eyes and leaned against the wall. It finally dawned on you how this happened. The drying grimoire that was locked up in the library was responsible for this strange turn of events.

“It’s not a title, at least, not in the way you’re thinking. It’s my job, one that I love very much. Was I ever a common worker before?”

Sukuna bristled at the thought. Even his tummy mouth frowned. “You were a queen. You wanted nothing because you had everything.”

“Interesting,” you mused. “I’m so not your girl.”

“I’m not interested in little girls.”

“Kudos to you. I think I’m going to sleep now. I’m clearly much more tired than I think I am.”

“We have things to discuss,” Sukuna protested, but you already slipped under the sheets. If I force myself to sleep he will go away, you thought. 

Instead you felt the dip of the other side of your bed and flung your eyes open. Sukuna was in bed, with you, staring your down with his four eyes. He was much too close for your liking. 

You looked at him wildly. “What are you doing?” 

“Resting with you.” 

“Get out of my bed!”

“Are you no longer tired?” 

“I am tired. Extremely tired, but that doesn’t mean I want you on my bed! Stay on the floor or something!”

Sukuna rolled his eyes at you and turned on his back, his arms crossed in two sets on his chest. 

“You were always particular with your sleeping habits. I see that hasn’t changed either.”

“Stop acting like you know me!”

Sukuna got off the bed to sit on the floor like you asked. The only problem is that you could feel his gaze prickling your skin, making it impossible to ignore him. You didn’t feel bad about kicking him out, he certainly didn’t have a pout on his face because of it, but something needed to be done. 

“Face the door instead of me,” you mumbled. 

His eyes twitched. “Commanding me like footmen,” he grumbled, yet he still turned away. You wondered if his obedience had something to do with the book. Sukuna had the aura of someone who doesn’t listen to anyone, yet he’s been more than understanding with you. Maybe you really were his wife. Maybe you were having a very elaborate and maladaptive daydream. You thought of “maybe’s” until the sun came up, still staring at the back of his pink, spiky hair. 

Your alarm chirped for you to get ready for work. You groaned. You didn’t get a second of sleep. You were too afraid of being eaten by the demon you accidentally summoned. You reached out to shut off the ringing clock as quietly as you could, but Sukuna touched it first. 

“How strange,” he said, turning the clock around in his hand. He brought it up to his ear, shook his head, tapped the glass. Then he crushed it. It was made of plastic, but the shards bent and broke to the floor left his hand unscratched. You gaped at the mess he made as he let the remains fall to the floor. “It was making a wretched sound.”

“Yeah…” you sighed. “It was pretty noisy.”

You had to find out how to get rid of him. Fast. 

Thanks for reading loves!! lemme know what ya think xx

Part: I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII.

M.list || Twitter || Ao3

[ramblings-of-a-chaotic-neutral]

Hello everyone! I'm back with another Merlin au! I hope you all enjoy! :D

In this AU, Merlin is born much, much later than in canon, such that Arthur is already in his late thirties and has been on the throne for over a decade by the time Merlin arrives in Camelot.

In this world, Uther had been assassinated by Morgause, leading to Arthur taking the throne and, at first, continuing the purge as a means to avenge his father. However, after some kind druids help him in finding Morgause after getting lost in the woods during a search party for the witch, Arthur slowly starts to soften his heart towards the druids, allowing them to live undisturbed on Camelot's lands. After all, they kept to themselves and offered assistance whenever a curse befell the land.

After a few years of peace with the druids, some of the druid elders travelled to the city itself, something they had never done before, and requested an audience with Arthur, claiming to have important information regarding a prophecy and Camelot's future. Trusting their word and curious about this prophecy, Arthur welcomes them into the castle and hears what they have to say.

And what they had to say was earth-shattering information for Arthur. They spoke of a prophecy as old as the Old Religion itself, how a king would be born to unite the warring land of Albion and restore peace, bringing the land into a gold age as the gods intended it. They spoke of how this Once and Future King would have a counterpart, the other half of his soul who would complete him and make him the glorious king that he was destined to be.

They told Arthur of Emrys, all-powerful magic made into the form of a man, the son of the Triple Goddess sent to the mortal plane to complete the Once and Future and guide him towards his destiny.

And just like that, Arthur's whole life changed.

The thing you have to understand about this Arthur is that he is very lonely. He has friends, people he trusts, but he's never been able to have a friend that sees Arthur instead of the prince or king. But the prophecy, according to the druids, says that Emrys would see beyond his titles and have a connection to Arthur, not the king. That Emrys would complete him in a way that he'd never fully comprehend.

They also describe Emrys's godly abilities, far beyond anything a mortal sorcerer could ever hope to achieve. He could command the elements of nature, the powers of all the world arose at his call, and time itself bowed to his command.

(And this all sounded very appealing to a repressed Arthur. Soon, Arthur's pleasant dreams started to feature a powerful cloaked figure bringing Arthur to heel, just as he had brought all the powers of magic under his control.)

So, Arthur eagerly awaits Emrys for years, waiting for the day that he meets his other half of the coin and the golden age can finally begin.

The druids, some of whom now stayed permanently in the castle to help Arthur with matters concerning magic until Emrys arrived to take over that role, told Arthur that they could sense when Emrys was nearby, and that they would alert him if they felt Emrys's presence in Camelot.

So, Arthur waits, and waits, and waits, never once giving up hope of meeting his destined other half.

He waits, until one day, the druid elders calmly announce at court that the day has come. Emrys had arrived at the gates of Camelot.

And Arthur's heart nearly leapt out of his chest with excitement. He was here! At long last, his life would be complete and he would become the great king his people deserved!

Arthur rushed to call for the entire court to assemble in the courtyard, ready to welcome Emrys with fanfare, and he sent word to the servants and cooks to prepare a celebratory feast as soon as they could. He needed to make a good first impression on his "other half of the coin" after all!

Arthur, not for the first time, wondered what Emrys would look like when he arrived. The druids didn't have a physical description for him, since his unimaginable powers gave him the ability to change his appearance at will. Perhaps he would look like a druid himself, or would he take on a more noble appearance, befitting of his status? Would he teleport himself into the courtyard with flair, or perhaps he would ride in on the back of a magic beast, like a dragon or unicorn!

Between all of the rush to prepare the castle for Emrys's grand arrival, Arthur forgot all about a skinny peasant boy accidentally bumping into him. The boy had apologized and asked politely where he could find Gaius's chambers. Arthur had looked at him oddly, since that was a rather large breach of decorum to ask the king such a trivial question, but Arthur simply brushed it off and pointed the young man in the right direction.

Finally, after everything was prepared, Arthur stood outside on the steps of the castle with his entire court behind him, straining his eyes at the gate for any sign of movement.

And he waited, and waited, and waited. But there was still no powerful warlock coming through the gates.

Finally, he turned to the druid elder next to him and asked, "Where is he? I thought you said he was in the city!"

The druid responded patiently, "He is, my lord. He might be in a disguise though, as to avoid attention. It is known that Lord Emrys is rather humble."

Arthur grumbled about prophesized warlocks never arriving on time and dismissed his court to attend the feast, hoping that perhaps Emrys would make himself known there, in a less public space.

The feast in its own right was a splendid time, with fresh food, fine wine, and even an famous songstress brought in for entertainment. However, as the night went on and the chair to Arthur's right remained empty, his mood soured. Emrys was supposed to be here, by his side, so where was he?!

Arthur was so caught up in his thoughts that he almost missed the moment when the singer's voice became threatening, her song became sinister, and an unnatural stillness came over everyone in attendance.

Arthur watched with barely-open eyes as the sorceress unsheathed a dagger and took aim and his chest, a vengeful smile on her face.

He could barely breathe as the dagger flew, his death drawing closer and closer until...

Until the blade stopped in mid-air, frozen by magic. Arthur's breath hitched. Could it be?

Arthur felt himself be pulled out of his chair, and the dagger hit the back of it, right where his chest had been moments before. The sorceress turned to where Arthur and his savior had landed with a furious expression, but before she could even take a step towards them, the chain holding the chandelier above her, which had never shown any signs of rust or damage, snapped, landing directly on top of the witch with a loud crash.

With the witch now dead, her spell was lifted, and Arthur scrambled to his feet the second that his limbs no longer felt like they were made out of solid lead. With his heart hammering in his chest, he turned around to face the sorcerer who had stopped time itself to save him.

This was Emrys, right behind him, and all of a sudden, Arthur wasn't quite sure what to expect.

Arthur turned and gazed down at the man still sprawled out on the floor, his arm outstretched to where the chandelier had been hanging. His eyes flickered wildly over his form, unsure of what details to take in first.

When his mind was finally calm enough to catch up to what his eyes were seeing, his thoughts came to a screeching halt. Because this man was certainly Emrys, and he had certainly been in the castle today. Arthur had seen him after all.

He was the peasant boy, from before. He had indeed snuck into the castle under a disguise to avoid suspicion, and had tested Arthur's heart, just as the druids said that he would. Any other king would have ignored a peasant asking for directions, or would even had them punished for such disrespect towards royalty. But Arthur had stopped to help him, and he must have passed Emrys's test, because he had saved Arthur from the witch's dagger with his own two hands.

Arthur's didn't know how much time passed as he and Emrys looked at each other, both of them staring with wide eyes.

Finally, after what felt like hours of silence, Emrys climbed to his feet and looked around the room with wide eyes, taking in the shocked and awed stares of everyone in the court.

Looking back at everyone with matching shock, Emrys stuttered out "I'll, uh, be going now. I, um, hope you all enjoy the rest of your feast," and ran off before Arthur's mind could come up with some kind of response, weaving in between shocked lords and bowing druids.

After Emrys had left the room, all eyes turned to Arthur, who took a moment to calm his breathing and his racing thoughts.

"It seems that Emrys has truly arrived in Camelot at last! Since this feast was interrupted, let's postpone the festivities to tomorrow, when Emrys can truly be in attendance."

That seemed to bring the court back to reality, and they slowly began to make their way out of the feasting hall, moving slowly so that everyone could talk amongst one another about Emrys's sudden appearance.

As soon as the last of the courtiers had left the hall, Arthur sprinted out of the room, running to his own chambers as fast as his feet would carry him. He only stopped briefly to breathlessly ask one of the druid elders to pass along a message to Emrys, inviting him for a private meeting with a king later that evening.

Racing back to his own rooms, Arthur was beyond glad to find them spotless. His chamber servants would get a raise after this, they had outdone themselves this time. Everything was perfect, his rooms free of any dirt, his desk immaculate, his furniture exactly where it was supposed to be, and his bed made.

Arthur anxiously paced around his own rooms, worrying about what Emrys already thought of him. Had he been too dismissive during their first encounter? Was he disappointed that Arthur could not recognize him, the other half of his soul, through his peasant disguise?

Finally, there was a soft knock at Arthur's door. Taking a deep breath, Arthur called out, "You may enter," in a deceptively steady voice.

The door opened slowly, revealing a now-familiar face in the doorway. Arthur's breathing sped up as Emrys slowly stepped into his rooms and closed the door behind him.

"You- you wanted to see me?"

"Of course! I apologize for not recognizing you when we first met, but I did not expect you to come in such a disguise. Now that we are alone though, you can drop your magical glamour and reveal your true face. You do not need to hide anything form me, I promise."

But Emrys simply looked at him, blinking with confusion.

"I... appreciate that, but what are you talking about? What glamour?"

"The illusion that makes you appear like," Arthur waved his hand at Emrys's peasant garb, "this. You can freely show you true splendor here!"

Again, Emrys looked at him with nothing but confusion.

"But... but this is what I look like. I'm not using any sort illusion right now."

A beat of silence. Then, one dumbfounded word escaped Arthur's mouth.

"What?"

TL;DR:

The sorcerer Arthur thought he was getting:

Vs the sorcerer he actually got:

[stvolanis]

Now i know you better

PAIRINGS: Alastor x Fem!Sinner!Reader

WARNINGS: ANGSTTTT, mean!Alastor, cheating w/ Lucifer, probably inaccurate time line idk, foul language,this is honestly kind of poorly written I’m sorry, manipulation, abuse, Alastor owns Readers soul, toxic relationship, possessive!Alastor, pet names, brief mention of suicide

NSFW WARNINGS: dubcon, slapping, hair pulling, choking, forced cream-pie, degradation, dacryphilia, p in v sex, knotting, humiliation, blood if you squint

SORRY IF I MISSED ANYTHING!!!

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

It wasn’t your fault that your grave was dug the moment you stepped foot into the fiery pits of hell.

It wasn’t your fault that it was dug by Mimzy when she introduced you to her dear friend, the Radio Demon who, oh so casually, casted peoples screams for hell to hear.

Mimzy, known to drag people into her messes when shit hits the fan, had deeply embedded you into an on-going war with one of the various overlords, simply by seeking a place to lay low for a few days. You didn’t expect Alastor to show up, that damned smile engraved onto his face.

And it most definitely wasn’t your fault that you laid in said grave.

He was charming, and charismatic. A lethal combination when a sense of confidence and dad-humor was thrown into the mix. The way you met wasn’t the most ideal, especially when he basically bombarded through you, inviting himself into your wrecked home to find Mimzy himself without a word.

His smile, then, seemed aggravated. He did little to hide the annoyance she had somehow caused him, and the way his voice grew in static when he spoke showed that. He was scary when you had watched his figure enlarge, his once normal, slim body now turning into a tall, beastly, and lanky figure with protruding antlers and dilated pupils.

Dread set into your core that day when he directed his wrath towards you. His tall frame stalking over you, a hand quickly shot to your throat. Your back hit against the wall as you were lifted from the ground, gasping for breaths of any air you could possibly get.

His breath was drug out and uneven as his chest moved up and down at a surprisingly slow pace. Even though he seemed to be filled of fury and unease—he had a sense of control over his calmness to an extent. Eerily, he had glided his mouth along your neck, inhaling your scent.

A harsh groan, almost as if he were in pain had slipped past his lips. It rumbled deep in his chest, and your eyes watered as your vision began to fade. Only then, did he release you and let your body fall to the floor. You held your throat gently as you finally got what you were begging for.

“Maybe you’ll listen, since sweet Mimzy won’t.” He began, his voice deep and contorted with static and brute. “You will fix the mess she created, and restore what was mine to begin with. Your soul will be mine until you have fulfilled your duty as said.” He finished.

Your mouth gaped. He had presented it to you like you had a choice in the devastating matter, but you knew better. You sobbed as your curled into a ball, and watched as he raised a hand towards your frame that wracked with sobs. “Hush now, girl. You will be under my care so long as I’ll have you.” He ushered with a grimace as he watched you wipe your nose with your wrist.

You longed to object. To scream and yell out that never in a million and one light years would you ever agree to such a thing. Your freedom was yours alone, and you liked to keep it that way. He’d have to drag you through hell and back for you to allow that to happen, yet as you took his sharp hand into yours, it was all said and done.

A bright light consumed you, and just for a moment, you thought maybe it was the light shower everyone talked about up in heaven. The bright beacon of a light so blinding that cleansed you of all your wrong-doings, took away all your pain and replaced the emptiness with a euphoric feeling of content.

Warmth spread throughout your body, and that moment of hope ended when you felt thick, heavy metal of chains cling around your throat and wrists. Alastors smile haunted you. It crept up on you in your dreams, and ate away at the only good things you had left to hold onto.

The life you once cherished, even in hell, soon faded away till it was nothing but a faint distant memory of someone you once knew that was yourself. It was replaced by an evil demon, in the form of a gentleman who disguised plots and alterier motives with wide smiles and laughs.

but again, you knew better.

The person you once were was stripped from you, and you were bare before him to bend and mold how he saw fit. And so, he did. You became his his underboss of sorts, a quiet and submissive being who did as told. They always said behind every powerful man, there was a woman. And it was you. Everyone got the good side of Alastor, yet it was you he took his frustrations out on when the day was said and done.

It was you who endured his aggressiveness when everyone was fast asleep in their bedrooms, dreaming of a better life you knew you’d never receive.

You were his lap dog, and his favorite toy to play with whenever and however he wanted to. It was unofficial, and confusing to others, but you somehow managed to find yourself in some sort of situationship with Alastor. You were his. body, mind, and soul.

You tried your best to please Alastor, constantly seeking his approval that he so generously bestowed upon others. You chased your tail around, and ran in laps, jumping through hoops just to earn a small nod in approval for him.

He wasn’t always bad. He cared for you, in his own fucked up way. He cared in way that he would never let something bad happen to you, and would protect you at all costs. You were his delicate little flower, how could he ever allow anyone who isn’t him to inflict any kind of harm onto you? He’s a bitch, but to an extent.

He loved you, yes, but only when he was in the mood to love you. When he loved you, he’d hold you close to him when you were perched on his lap in the hotel lounge. He’d whisper sweet nothings to you as he kissed along your neck, making giggles vibrate through your chest. He’d run his fingers through your hair till you fell asleep against him at night after a particularly hard day.

And on days when he knew he went to far, his classic water works he only had in store for you would come into play. He couldn’t bare his favorite toy hating him. He didn’t know how to deal with the colder shoulder and short-answer responses from you. It aggravated him that only you could get under his skin without doing much, so when you were heavily upset, only then would he drop down to his knees and kiss the inside of your thighs lovingly.

Tears would align his eyes, but his smile never once wavering, and beg for your forgiveness. He’d tell you how much he loved you as he rubbed your sensitive bud, and wash away your worries with so many orgasms, you forgot why you were mad at him in the first place.

Yes, he owned your soul and tended to be abusive, but he wasn’t heartless.

He’d tell you he’s sorry, and that he’d never hurt you again. It’s always a lie, and each time you allowed yourself to stupidly believe it.

But the truth was, you didn’t know what else to do. You hated to admit it, but you were nothing without him. You spent so long shaping yourself into the person he wanted and needed you to be, that you forgot how to be yourself. You forgot what your previous hobbies were, or what else made you happy besides him. Your world revolves around him, and without him, it felt like your world was coming to an exaggerated end.

So, you put up with it. Each and every time.

It wasn’t till today, the day of Charlie’s fathers arrival to the grand hotel Alastor managed to put together and run, that you’d ever seen him so genuinely with any sort of nerves.

The moment Lucifer walked in, in all his glory, Alastors personality took a flip. He went toe to toe with the ruler of Hell himself, all because he was afraid of someone who he knew had more power than him. But Alastor wasn’t a weak man, not at all, and that’s why he made it his mission to piss off Lucifer as much as he could.

You’d never seen him this way before. With you? Yes, but with other people? Never. He was cunning and every word he spat at Lucifer dripped with malice and confidence. Alastor knew he couldn’t beat him with power, so he hit him where he knew it would hurt. His family. Specifically, the only one he had left.

What Alastor didn’t expect, was for Lucifer to become completely and utterly smitten with you. From the moment he laid his eyes on you, he’s been all smiles and giggles with you.

He listened when you talked, even the little small words or sentences no one cared to listen to. His lips against the top part of your hand when you first met was the only thing that circled your mind for days. His lips were plush and warm, soft and tender. It was a contrast to the kisses Alastor left you of pity and forgiveness.

He was sweet, and undeniably handsome. He made you feel ways you’d never felt before. He made you feel like you had a choice. A voice that wouldn’t be spoken over and genuinely listened to. He was charismatic, in a way like Alastor, but it was real. His smiles were real, as were the sweet nothings he said to you.

For weeks, you snuck around with Lucifer. At night, when Alastor was fast asleep, you’d sneak out from under his watchful arm and find your way to Lucifers room. His arms were more welcoming, and warm. His kisses sweeter than honey and his love as gold and bright as they come.

His voice was soft, and vibrant as he hummed against your ear. The fingers that raked through your hair were gentle and soothing, calmed you to your slumbers that comforted you through the night. His smell was intoxicating; cider and musk, like an orchid full of ripe apples. The two rosey spots on his cheek shined in hue when you’d enter the room.

I didn’t take long for Alastor to notice. He want a dumb and oblivious man. He was a ruthless overlord who couldn’t afford to look past the little things. He noticed the stares that the two of you sent when in a room full of people. The lingering touches no one else noticed when you brushed passed each other.

And most of all, they way you’d slip from his grasp in the dark of the night like he was stupid.

He knew, of course. He knew the whole time. And he let you let yourself believe that there was any other choice besides him. He allowed you, from the goodness of his heart, to feel a speck of the freedom you longed for. He let you grasp it and cradle it with all your might, just to draw you back in by the chains that shackled you to him for eternity.

He liked knowing that he controlled you. It fueled the god complex he had, knowing that no matter what you tried to do, you’d always be his. His to love, his to fuck, his to torment.

He mocked you for it, too. Rubbing it in your face that you were chained to him for as long as you’d live in hell. Suicide crossed your mind a few times, the only way you saw yourself out of it—yet, you knew that no matter what life you had next, you’d still always belong to him in some way, shape, or form.

You should’ve known better. Should’ve known that you could never be happy. Should’ve known that Alastor knew the whole time. Yet you were naive enough to think you were smart enough to go behind his back with a person he detested the most. The one person who could easily kill him with a blink of an eye.

Alastor would never say it out loud, because he knew deep down that he would never win against Lucifer. So, he did what he does best, and he took it out on you.

Tonight wasn’t supposed to be any different from any of the other nights you left Alastors bedroom.

You lay in another man’s arms, his chest rising and falling beneath you as soft breaths slipped past his pale lips. Lucifer looked especially beautiful like this. His white skin glistening in the dull lighting of the room, and his streaky blonde hair ran through messily against the plush pillow.

You wished you could stay in this very moment forever. You’d rather spend an eternity admiring Lucifer for all his greatness, than suffering in Alastors darkness miserably.

You never told Lucifer about the way Alastor treated you behind closed doors. You knew that if you did, Alastor would be dead without a second thought. It crossed your mind a few times, obviously. How could it not? It was your only way out. The only thing that stopped you was the fact that Alastor wasn’t always like this.

He wasn’t always a bad person towards you. In the beginning, he tried to make you as comfortable as possible. He made you happy, and lively. His presence didn’t make you want to cower away in a corner, and his stare made you flush red, as bright as the color of his hair.

After all he’s put you through, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of guilt shoot through you each time you looked back at Alastor asleep in your shared bed. He never cheated on you. The one of many things he’s never done, yet here you were, every so happily cheating on him. You felt like a two-timing snake, and you knew if he found out that he’d feel betrayed.

With that thought, you slipped from under Lucifer’s heavy arm, watching with soft eyes as he muttered under his breath at the loss of your warmth against him. You kissed his cheek and whispered a goodbye as you exited his room, softly shutting the door behind you. Your finger glided along the walls of the hallway, all the way till you found yourself outside of Alastors room.

You inhaled deeply, reaching for the doorknob, twisting it ever so slowly. Your entered the dark abyss of the room, shutting the door softly behind you with a wince as it creaked lightly. Damned this old ass building.

What you didn’t expect, was for Alastor to press against you from behind.

His breathing was uneven, and sharp as his chest still moved up and down slowly. You froze. You felt your dead heart stop as if you were alive. It seemed like oxygen didn’t exist anymore as you gaped, jaw slightly fallen slack as your eyes lined with tears. Your body shook as his hand traveled to the bed of your throat, craning your neck back to meet his eyes painfully.

“A-Alastor—” you gaped. He clicked his tongue. “Hm, silly girl. You really thought I was unaware of your whore-ish activities?” He chuckled out, his breath warm against the shell of your ear. “Wait, please—” you began, but you didn’t get a chance to think of what to say next as he slammed your back onto the bed.

You tried desperately to crawl away from him, but within a second, chains tied you down to the bed frame. You wracked with sobs and please of despair. He stood silently for a moment, watching the way you crumbled so easily without him even having to really do anything.

“How dare you.” He hissed out after a moment. Climbing on top of your tense frame, he pinched your cheeks together and watched as tears ran down your cheeks pathetically. “I give you everything you could possibly need. I make sure you’re alive with a roof over your head and out of the clutches of hells streets, and this is how you repay me? By sleeping around with men?” He growled through his sharp teeth.

His smile was formed still, but more into a scowl of displeasure. His antlers were grown and prominent as he began to shift to his demon form that you hadn’t seen since the first time youd met him that fateful day. He was like a rabid animal, drool slipping through the cracks of his jagged teeth as his body became large and monstrous.

This was it. This how your soul would finally be put to rest. By the claws and bared teeth of a monster with the facade of a charming, hotel manager. Not the way you’d want to go out, but hey, at least your were gonna get out of it, right?

Or so you thought.

His claws, sharp as knives tore through your shirt, ripping it off of your figure and discarded onto the floor. Your white lace bra on display in front of him. Your pajama pants adorned with cheesy pandas torn to shreds alongside your favorite sleeping shirt. But all you could think about was the abnormally large bulge hard and prominent against your inner thigh.

God, you hated yourself. You danced along the line of lust, fear, and hatred. Hatred for him, mostly. You hated that you loved Lucifer—yet your body yearned to be used and played with at the hands of Alastor.

The sweet sex, praises and butterfly kisses Lucifer showered you was amazing, but this—this was different. The way Alastor fucked you was different. Yes, he was rough and fucked hard—but this was his way of showing you that he loved you. It was peculiar, to say the least. A man so easily able to use his words to fluster anyone couldn’t look you in the eye to tell you that he loved you.

So he fucked you like he hated you. But you knew what he meant.

His finger hooked under the middle of your bra, effectively slicing upwards to cut it in half. Your breasts sprang free, and your nipples hardened under the tense, cold air. You squirmed as his breath fanned against them, his long tongue shooting out to lick against them tenderly.

He played tricks on you. It was his favorite game. Giving you false hope. Dangling things he knew you longed for in front of you, only to yank it right back. Killing every last good thing you had left till you had absolutely nothing but him.

So you should’ve known better than to trust his soft tongue kitten licking your nipple. His sharp teeth bit down—hard enough to draw specks of blood around it. You yelped out in pain as your eyes lined with fresh tears waiting to be spilled over. The pain was dreadful, but god, did it feel good.

Alastors thumb trailed to lower, tracing down to your stomach till he reached your cotton panties, dampened with your arousal. “What a slut. Getting off on this. You should be ashamed of yourself, darling.” He mocked out with a cunning smile. He didn’t think twice before ripping your panties off.

He fumbled for second with his pants, unzipping them before letting them reach low enough just to pull his cock out. “Now, I’m gonna fuck this cunt till I’ve had enough, and after that, you’re going to go into the small-dicked-duck fanatics room with my cum dripping down your thighs and tell him just how good I fucked you.” He growled out, his hand finding it’s way back to your throat, squeezing tightly as he lined himself to your entrance.

“Alastor, please just listen—i” his cock bullied is way into you. Long, and thick. 9 inches of pure, heavy meat sat snugly inside of you, playing with your insides. He was perfectly trimmed, and his balls heavy balls slapped against the underside of your pussy with each agonizingly perfect thrust he delivered into you.

“Oh, oh fuck!” You moaned out, head thrown back as your hand clenched onto the chains that bound you to your bed post. “Tight little pussy. Tell me, does he fuck you like this, baby?” He panted out as he watched the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

He always thought you were the prettiest like this. Underneath him, writhing in pleasure, cock drunk and hungry for him. The only time you didn’t resent him. The only time you wanted him. He cherished this, not that he would ever say it out loud.

“I asked you a fucking question.” He said, slapping the side of your face harshly, leaving a painful sting behind. You whimpered at the familiar impact. “No, Alastor!” You all but screamed out as his cock kissed your cervix.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed loudly, and the smell of hot sex was in the air. A distinctive, vile smell. Your body was lined with sweat, as was his, and your breasts bounced each time his hips met flush against your ass. All you could think about was him.

He consumed your thoughts, plaguing your mind. You couldn’t escape him. And as of right now, you weren’t sure you even really wanted to all along.

Some sick part of you enjoyed this relationship you were in. The part that liked to be put in your place, and told what to do in return for praises of affirmations. A relationship that never got boring, and always kept you on your toes no matter what. Traumatic? Definitely. Toxic? 100%. But, this is what you had to endure. The least you could to was learn to like and deal with it.

You clenched down tightly onto him as his hips slammed into yours repeatedly, his dick hitting every right spot, including the little nerve of your g-spot inside of you. The angle he had your hips positioned in hit it better, and he could tell you were close when your cunt began to pulse around him.

“Please, please, I’m gonna cum!” You babbled on and on, drunk on the feeling of him inside of you. He chuckled as he pulled your head up by the root of your hair, just enough to have your lips crashing down onto his. “Fucked you stupid, honey, i know.” He cooed out against your lips.

He tasted bitter. Like whiskey and old cigars, mixed with a strange tea refreshment. It was an odd combination, but one that suited him indefinitely. His tongue swirled and glided against yours as they fought for dominance in a sloppy, and surprisingly passionate kiss. One that said what he didn’t have to out loud. ‘You’re mine’. He won the fight for dominance, and he sloppily suckled your tongue into his mouth.

The kiss was nasty, sloppy with saliva dripping down your chin and a few cuts on your lip from his sharp teeth clashing against them, but it was the least of your concerns as he rested his forehead against yours, nearing his end.

“I’m gonna fill this pussy up. Nice and full so everyone will know in dues time just who the fuck you belong to.” He growled out through clenched teeth. You shook your head back and forth, your eyes widening with fear. “No, don’t! Please don’t!” You begged, on and on, but to no avail.

His thrusts became harsher, and more demanding. Chasing his high aimlessly as you begged and moaned out his name underneath him. It was then that you felt it. His cock balls deep when you felt it began to swell up inside of you.

You gasped in shock as you were stretched painfully to your limit, the bulge in your lower stomach large and prominent as he pressed against it, triggering your orgasm. Your juices flushed out of you and all over his lower abdomen, and he groaned at the sight. You clenched down onto him impossibly tighter and he felt like he was gonna lose his mind.

“Pull out. Please pull out.” You desperately tried to reason with him, but he didn’t care as he sat snug inside of you, his knot finally emptying inside of you. It was warm, and you could feel it drip down your ass when his cock finally fell flaccid and limp, slowly pulling out of you.

“Maybe now, you’ll learn your lesson. You must be a fool to think that anyone could ever love you like i do.” He said, shaking his head. He bit his lip with a satisfied smile as he watched his mounds of cum pour out of you. “Milked my cock so well.” Was the only praise that slipped past his lips the rest of the night.

He didn’t allow you to clean yourself, only letting you thrown on a pair of panties from the drawer in his bedroom. Your inner thighs were slick and sticky with his warm, salty cum. “Run along now, dear. Come back when you’re finished.” He said in a singing tone, knowingly.

A flame rose in your core of embarrassment as you waddled out of the room, the uncomfortable feeling between your thighs growing by the second. It was humiliating, doing the walk of shame down the hallway, all the way to your now past lovers room.

A soft knock was laid on his door, and after a silent, dreaded minute of standing there, his door fell open. There you stood, in nothing but panties. Bite marks around your nipples and your neck prominent with a lingering bruise from the grip he held on your neck. His eyes trailed down to the cum slick between your plush thighs.

His eyes widened.

“The fuck happened to you?”

˚ ꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ˚

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[chatsukimi]

ｓｃａｒｓ： "ᴛʜᴇʏ ꜱᴀʏ ɪᴛ'ꜱ ᴡʜᴇʀᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴡᴇʀᴇ ᴋɪʟʟᴇᴅ ɪɴ ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴘᴀꜱᴛ ʟɪꜰᴇ"

Sukuna x deceased reader. pt 1.

Sukuna whose flames are unleashed solely on special occasions. One day, when Yuji wonders aloud why he has two, he tells the brat to "shut up and get yourself your first technique before asking for seconds." Yuji winces, shutting up nevertheless.

Sukuna who quietens next to the bonfire on New Years. The open conflagration bursts and wanes. He peers at the sparkling flames, dancing before Yuji's worn out sneakers. He wills the boy to let him switch places- one minute, just as he had promised when Sukuna restored his heart. Now the Devil will restore his own.

Sukuna who appears, silent, next to a mossy pillar in the middle of a redwood forest; a trick of Cursed Technique, long lost. He only has a minute: prepare the incense, plant the prayers, spare one longing gaze at your statue. He clenches his teeth as he hears Yuji banging on inside his mind, but it's the one chance he has of being with you, alone.

Sukuna who had always been concentrated compared to the other Special Grade sorcerers, capable of miraculous devotion. Suffice to say, he likes it best when there aren't passerby's, mistaking zeal for shortcoming.

He sinks to the ground, bowing his head, pressing his palms together, before wisps of flame start drifting from between them, touching every candle and incense to life. Wisteria scents float over him.

In this forgotten corner of the world, all who remember you are the monks who tend this shrine, and the strongest of them all.

When Yuji wakes up, on the stone floor of the Fujiwara Clan's tombs, sputtering at the cold. Shocked, later on, by the violent burn in the middle of his chest he had never seen before.

"Curious..." Gojo murmurs, inspecting the wound. "Yuji, you're growing more and more like him."

This used to be his scar.

Sukuna who doesn't come out for days when Gojo informs Yuji about the Fujiwara Clan's destruction. What was he doing at the shrine? Why did he kill them all, the children, the soldiers, the wives?

Everyone assumes Sukuna's just tired of Yuji's moral clamouring. No one suspects he is drowning in the shadows of his domain, his head collapsed back onto the animal skulls, exhales spilling out in long drawn out phrases, in the nightmare he created.

Sukuna who used to hate fire because it quashed the dark, until he saw you manoeuvre flames and arrows as though they were a second skin. He was the Disgraced One, but you- you were kind.

Sukuna who was killed by you, when he killed your clan. He was promised your technique when he said he would protect you. He made a vow. He had to keep it.

So, when it came time, he had simply let you press your burning hand upon his chest and feel him recline in agony. He knew it would be the last time you touch him. He wanted to feel it burn.

"Sukuna, you told me you would try to get better. You told me you didn't care how the others saw you, about us- how could you lie to me?"

He never wanted to lie to you, of all souls. If it makes you feel better, he still thinks of you when he uses your flames, only on special occasions. Your strength, your grace, and the look you wore as you killed him, they all come wobbling, like moth to a flame. Like a lowly cast-away boy on his way, in rage, to destruction.

Sukuna who thinks to himself, "you have given your technique to me, but what if I had asked for your soul with mine forever?", looking for your voice in the flames.

It only cracks and cackles.

It is Yuji who first notices you on the street.

"Hey! Hey!"

You turn around. A boy with pink hair is jogging towards you. He waves.

"Oh. Hi, do I know you?"

"Don't think so. You just look really alike to someone I saw a while ago at a shrine."

You can't pinpoint what but the slit on his face... you can't tear your eyes from it. You shake your head. What is wrong with you today?

"I don't go to shrines," you say. Your fingers itch to reach out to graze his cheek. "... that's a cool scar you've got there. Both sides of your face. They say scars are where you were killed"

"Oh I've got many scars," he mutters sheepishly. "A big one on my chest, s'kinda lame though, 'cause I don't remember how I got it."

You laugh. "Me too." You drag your T-shirt neckline down just an inch, pointing at it with your thumb. "I was born with mine."

A scar.

A burn.

A flaming arrow.

Right above your heart.

[kingkat12]

nightmare (eric draven x reader)

WARNINGS: angst, mentions of blood, kinda spoilers?

summary: you were sure that your murder was a nightmare... all until you had to face the deep, dark truth of why you were waking up from it in the first place

word count: 1,018

I had no idea where I was when I finally awoke. 

It felt as though I had been sleeping for several days. Images from my supposed nightmare flashed before my eyes-- both of us getting choked out in plastic bags on his bedroom floor, Eric's muffled screams of struggle, the sound of my nails clawing against the wooden floors, trying to cling onto any last slivers of life. The memory made me press Eric even closer to my chest as we knelt in a pool of red, muddy water. He held me tighter than ever before, almost as though he had lived through my nightmare as well; because that's what that had been, right?

Just a nightmare. Nothing more.

However, I quickly realized something was wrong. I dared to look up at the sky, seeing the ruins of skyscrapers resembling our hometown of New York towering above us; this place looked like the equivalent of what would happen if humans abandoned the city. It looked like we were at an abandoned train station, with a thick, grey fog surrounding us. Eric's sobs brought me back, and I pressed him harder against me. "I just had the worst nightmare," I mumbled, my fingers digging into the back of his soaking wet coat. "I swear it was almost as though I was in hell just now."

With this, Eric's grip around me only tightened, and I could feel his lower lip quivering against my neck. "It's over now," he whispered, his words coming out with his next shaky breath. "You'll never have to go back there again."

What? I pulled away, taking his tear-stained face into my hands. "Eric, it was just a dream," My thumbs brushed over the ink he had smeared around his eyes and across his cheeks. "Baby, what happened to you? Why are you so..." It took me a few seconds to realize that it wasn't only ink. Suddenly, the strong smell of iron hit me like a wave-- it was blood. 

My heart sunk all the way down into my shoes; "Eric...?" I felt my hands give in to a tremble as I brushed over the blood trickling down from his forehead. It wasn't coming from an injury, and that was a relief... until I realized what that meant. He was practically sprayed in it from top to bottom. "What have you done? Where are we?"

Eric took my hands into his, a certain hollow look about him. "I've made a deal... And I did what I had to do to bring you back," 

My eyes immediately filled with tears, remembering the feeling of my soul getting sucked out of me and watching the same happen to the love of my life. "I'm so confused, Eric, what's happening?--"

The ground beneath us shook, and Eric immediately pulled me into a kiss, pulling me flush against his chest in an act of desperation. "My life for yours," he breathed in between flashes of aching passion, the taste of salty tears and blood mixing in with our kiss. "I did it all for you. Everything."

I grabbed his blood-soaked coat, pulling him away from me as I felt another sob build in my chest. "What did you do?" I cried, shaking him. A chilly breeze passed us, followed by the loud cawing of crows gathering in a circle above our heads. "Eric, please!" I recognized the coat from the time we first went to my apartment-- the flashing memories of our good days made the wait for his answer even worse. 

The coldness of the water around us made me shiver as Eric grabbed my face, tears streaking down his ink-stained cheeks. The beautiful man I loved, the man I wanted to marry, had never looked so broken before, and it was scaring me more than anything ever had. "I killed them all," he whispered against me, his voice lowering with darkness hiding in the depths of his words. "All of them. Every single one of them. And now the balance is restored, and you can get your life back."

It shook me to see a smile forming across Eric's lips, who now seemed to be finding solace in his actions.

My nails dug into the fabric of his coat, the sinking of my heart ensuing as I cried in his arms. Horror struck me as I realized that everything hadn't been a nightmare, after all. "No, Eric, no, you didn't!--"

"I did," he breathed, his words just as hollow as his gaze. Eric's soft smile only made my heart ache more; "I love you more than life itself. Knowing I have avenged you, knowing you will be safe, will allow me to rest."

"Rest?!" My cries grew louder, holding onto him for dear life as the crows above us became many more, the cawing persisting. "Eric, get up, let's just go!" 

Finally mustering the strength to stand up, tugging at the sleeves of his coat, I quickly realized he was stuck to the ground. Panic filled me as Eric didn't try to fight it, making no attempts to save himself from his destiny. "I love you," he breathed, holding onto my wrists as he slowly started sinking into the puddle, the smile remaining on his face. "Remember me."

I fell to my knees once more, wrapping my body around him as I sobbed. "Stop it!" The cry I let out was unlike anything I knew I was capable of, watching the heartbreak streak down Eric's beautiful, green eyes. "Get up, Eric, get up!" 

Eric's body was now halfway sunken into the ground, his grip around me loosening. "I love you," he echoed, pulling me in for one last tear-stained kiss.

After Eric disappeared into the ground, I clawed at the mud for what felt like hours, crying out into the foggy abyss. I didn't know where I would find the strength to leave, how I was supposed to live knowing he had sold his soul for mine, taking my place in whatever hell I had just been in during my few days of death.  "I love you," I sobbed, screaming my throat raw.

"Eric! Eric!"

[readerforexiao]

𝐀 𝐊𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐋 | 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ

⌗ Itoshi Sae x Reader | fluff, romance | word count: 1k

⌗ A/n: i love this man. I love having thoughts about him. Also is tumblr ruining the quality of my banner?? :(

⌗ "For a peck could leave you breathless and lightheaded, but a kiss— his kiss— could unravel you piece by piece, leaving you vulnerable to everything he promised."

Sae doesn’t kiss you often, but when he does, it is always special and deeply meaningful.

Slow. That is how it begins. Not necessarily in the sense that it drags on endlessly, but in the way he ensures every second counts.

Sae lingers still at first, unmoving, as if savoring the closeness. Then, with the softest, almost hesitant of motions, his lips brush against yours to test the waters, relearning and remembering their shape. His movements are deliberate, intentional, so much that he needs to feel the intimacy bursting between you both before he even dares to consider it a kiss.

He leaves gentle pecks, his tongue barely grazing your lower lip and it sends a shiver down your spine, sparking what you cherished most, his attentiveness.

His eyes remain open and gazing at you before they flutter shut and he indulges himself.

It all happens in mere seconds, yet it feels like time stretches on with every heartbeat sundering and unweaving the threads of your resolve.

His touch. Fingers that brush along the length of your forearms, tracing over soft, pampered skin— provokes a shiver to cascade down your spine. It elicits goosebumps, a subtle reaction but so dearly cherished by him. It ripples through your very being, how he can love you such that it gravitates towards your core and embraces it.

And your soul unfurls for him. Like two ends of a string destined to intertwine, they meet, his love anchoring itself in your heart and becoming home.

The world dissolves into a haze until all that remains is the weight of his forehead resting against yours and his hands steady but sure as they hold you close.

Sae knows that when you kiss, it is meant to be a moment where his guarded walls are lowered and you can feel the sincerity of his feelings.

It amazes you to no end how he, known to be cold and blunt in his ways and relentless in his drive, is able to pour all the words he cannot say, the emotions he struggles to express, and the love that seems to overwhelm him beyond his ability to comprehend— into a single, fleeting gesture and mean it so passionately, for there’s a strange comfort in how he can engulf the emptiness when you’re at your lowest.

There have been times before when others offered comfort, only to unintentionally leave you feeling even more depleted. Sae somehow replenishes you without taking a piece of your soul.

He fills that empty glass with delicacy that not a drop manages to spill through the cracks. His effort is there, albeit subtle. It is never overwhelming and restores what's been used without leaving you more exhausted.

So yes, Itoshi Sae may not be the most expressive or the most forthcoming with displays of affection, but he is far from unware of your feelings and your rights. In his own quiet way, he respects and understands you, always finding a compromise that neither discomforts him nor deprives you.

Like during mundane tasks, such as house shopping when he walks with his arms slack at his sides, the distance between you blurring as his pinky purposefully brushes against yours. Before you know it, he takes your hand loosely in his, not even realizing that simple act is calming the anxiety within you.

Whether it’s a grand event or something small, Sae remains the star of the show and the center of spotlight. Always. And though never one to entertain the crowds, his presence was strong, the protectiveness and loyalty toward you undeniable!

As you leave the venue spent and yearning for the plush of your mattress, under the night sky and stars glimmering the pathway of your leave, his hand settles on your arm, gently running up and down to warm you, because unfortunately he is not wearing a blazer he can offer.

Sae pulls you a little closer to his side, opens the car door for you, straps you in, and presses a passing kiss to your temple.

Or maybe it’s a random Saturday evening, and he has nothing on his agenda. He’s doing what he does during resting periods, not resting, when he hears you moving about in the kitchen.

For a while, he’s content with that— the simple sounds of you being near, a reminder that you’re there. Then, without a sound, he appears in the doorway as the TV hums in the background, a distant murmur. His laptop and work were forgotten.

You’re caught off guard when he peeks over your shoulder to see what’s cooking in the pan.

“Sae?”

He doesn’t respond and merely glances at you from the periphery of his vision, shrugging before he pulls out a barstool and grabs his phone. He settles into the kitchen, preferring to be closeby while you cook or bake.

On nights after long games and yet another win, the front door clicks open, soon followed by the shower spraying. When he finally settles into bed in nothing but boxers, a low hum draws out in relief as he feels your skin against his own, bare and warm. He lays there, watching you from his side of the bed, his hand reaching out to caress your cheek.

“Beautiful” he says softly but aloud, and you hear it. You always do, just before you drift off to sleep. You’re happy, knowing you’re loved by the man beside you.

Thus, the passion beneath his exterior easily seeps through if given time— and time, your relationship had been built upon.

Itoshi Sae, who doesn’t kiss you often, takes every time he does with utmost seriousness! There is nothing more important to him than proving to you that he wants you, he loves you, and he is yours. He will always be yours.

For a peck could leave you breathless and lightheaded, but a kiss— his kiss— could unravel you piece by piece, leaving you vulnerable to everything he promised.

You look forward to every meeting of your lips, and Sae, little by little grows obsessed. Fearing one day, he may not want to leave your lips alone, because already he finds himself losing to the pull of it.

But no matter how often or rarely it happens, whether a little or much more, each kiss is special— and so it shall remain.

All rights reserved | Copyright @readerforexiao 2024 | Do not copy, steal, or repost to any other platform 🧡

[shiplessoceans]

Good Omens S2 Episode 6 confession scene speculation:

Aziraphale didn't respond to the love confession from Crowley because he didn't realise it was one until Crowley mentioned the Nightingale and kissed him.

Allow me to explain.

---

Aziraphale interrupted Crowley to give him the news from Metatron, so when Crowley starts his spiel:

"We've been together a long time, I could always rely on you...we're a group....we've spent our existence pretending we aren't...if Gabriel and Beelzebub can go off together then we can...we don't need heaven/hell they're toxic...you and me whatya say?"

Aziraphale interprets everything Crowley is saying as his rebuttal to the 'good news', not a separate declaration of his feelings.

What Aziraphale just told him shaped Crowley's confession, instead of finally telling Aziraphale how he feels about him, he's now backed into a corner and trying to change Aziraphales mind. Offering to run off with him as the alternative to the Metatron's offer.

The repetition of the phrase: "go off together" from the bandstand fight in season one feels very intentional here. It would be easy for Aziraphale to think 'this is just Crowley's response when the divine plan interferes, he always wants to run away'.

Aziraphale believes that he just needs to make Crowley understand the situation and opportunity that this is and everything will be alright:

"Come with me! To heaven, I can run it, you can be my second in command. We can make a difference!"

Crowley is looking defeated already, in his mind he's bared his soul and Aziraphale is a brick wall. So if he can't tempt the angel into staying with the love he has for him (which Crowley thinks he's declared but he really hasn't), he'll get him to change his mind by evoking something else he loves:

"You can't leave this bookshop."

Aziraphale scoffs fondly. 'Silly demon, you were just suggesting we run off together and abandon it only a moment ago!' He thinks Crowley is trying to 'work' him here and the old serpent might even be selflessly trying to spare the angel the loss of his beloved bookshop in order to restore Crowley and help the world, which would be just like him to be so covertly protective. So Aziraphale reassures him, a bookshop doesn't matter to him as much as Crowley and the world. It's just a collection of objects really. Humanity is more important. Crowley is far more important.

"Oh Crowley, nothing lasts forever."

Crowley is crushed. Nothing lasts forever. Not even the two of them. So he covers his sadness with his glasses, walls back up, and he tries to leave.

Aziraphale is baffled. He just reassured Crowley that he was alright with change if it means things could be better. Why is Crowley leaving? Is he worried that they won't spend time together anymore? That he won't have time for his friend as a supreme archangel?

"Crowley come back!....we can be together, angels!...I need you!"

Crowley can't even look at him in that moment. Why would Aziraphale say that? The two of them together only if he accepts heaven again? Conditional love? That's not fair. It hurts.

Aziraphale meanwhile is hurt by Crowley's turning away, his silence and a bit incensed at what he perceives as ingratitude. Aziraphale didn't really want to go back to heaven, but he'd do it if it meant Crowley could be happy and safe and Crowley doesn't seem to appreciate that:

"I don't think you understand what I'm offering you."

Crowley went through the fall. He asked the questions. Did his best to protect humanity and it has brought him nothing but suffering. He's well aware what's on offer. He's seen heavens cruelty and capriciousness firsthand and been burned by it repeatedly. How can Aziraphale choose them over him and still think everything will work out?

"I understand. I think I understand a whole lot better than you do."

Crowley loves Aziraphale's big foolish optimism and kind heart and he thinks it's the very thing taking the angel away from him. This isn't how it was supposed to go. It's all slipping away from him.

"Listen. You hear that?"

Aziraphale can't even keep up at this point.

This is what comes of thousands of years of 'not talking about it' and living under threat of holy retribution if they are discovered. They're talking past each other, having two different conversations. Obfuscation and code has become their communication medium by necessity and it's failing them.

It's frustrating Aziraphale that he can't get a grip on this conversation:

"I don't hear anything!"

And Crowley drops the bomb.

"That's the point. No Nightingale's."

Oh. Suddenly we're on the same page. You can see from Aziraphale's face that he understands to what Crowley's referring. The Nightingale in Berkely square. Angels dining at the Ritz...

"You idiot! We could have been... us."

Crowley's talking about the big unspoken thing between them. Their relationship, thousands of years of dancing around each other like binary stars gravitationally and inexorably drawn together over and over. The thing Aziraphale was beginning to be bold about, (dancing notwithstanding) before Metatron came along and distracted him.

And it seems to Aziraphale that gut-wrenchingly, Crowley is finally acknowledging their mutual love only to point out that it's gone. Lost. They could have finally been together, an us, but Aziraphale ruined it because he's an 'idiot'.

After being quietly in love with Crowley for years, for Aziraphale to have his offer to return to heaven together and his unspoken love rejected in one fell swoop is devastating.

Overcome, he begins to cry and turns away, not wanting Crowley to see how hurt he is.

Crowley for his part is desperate. He has to do something. Maybe Aziraphale doesn't understand what Crowley is offering him! One fabulous kiss and va-voom right?

In a final desperate act, he kisses Aziraphale. Tries for passionate. Tries to show him that he loves him and show him what they could be because his words clearly aren't working.

Aziraphale is shocked and angry. He wants to kiss Crowley of course. But not like this. Not as a taunt. Crowley just told him their chance is over so what else could this be but a final insult. A kiss to punish the angel. It's a cruelty he didn't believe Crowley capable of.

And despite how mean it is. It's also what Aziraphale has wanted for so long he can't help but melt into it for a brief moment. Allow himself to feel what it would have been like to be that close before losing it forever.

Then Crowley lets go and Aziraphale breaks away on a sob, feeling wounded. Hurt beyond words that Crowley would use his feelings against him like this, gutted to be losing the man he loves and not understanding why.

The worst part is that Aziraphale doesn't have it in him to hate Crowley, even if he thinks the kiss was a cruel gesture. He still loves him. So he gathers himself and does what Aziraphale does when someone hurts him.

He forgives.

"I forgive you."

I forgive you for rejecting my attempt to restore you and make you happy, I forgive you for rejecting God and heaven yet again, I forgive you for acknowledging our love and then rejecting it. I forgive you for kissing me, giving me a fleeting glimpse of what we could have been to each other. I love you and I forgive you all that.

Crowley is done. Breath knocked out of him on a last sigh. He tried. And the Angel forgave him yet again for something he never asked or wanted forgiveness for. He doesn't want to be penitent for loving Aziraphale. Shouldn't have to apologise or regret wanting them to be together.

"Don't bother."

Aziraphale looks surprised Crowley is leaving because he genuinely is. He can't understand how it's all gone so horribly wrong. He gasps, shocked and can't even call out to him to stop, come back.

He cries, touches his lips where Crowley had kissed him. Tries to gather himself and barely has 10 seconds before Metatron is back.

At the end of that scene:

Crowley thinks he confessed his love and Aziraphale chose heaven over him because he didn't want to stop being a demon.

Aziraphale thinks Crowley rejected heaven, then rejected Aziraphale and threw their love back in his face as a final unkindness.

Aziraphale leaves and goes to heaven anyway because in his mind he's already lost Crowley and there is nothing left to stay for. If he doesn't have Crowley he needs a new purpose and it's going to be saving the world. He'll convince himself of it. And he'll push that broken heart down and the pain will fade if he just smiles through it. It will be enough, to make heaven better. It has to be. Maybe if he proves that he can make a difference Crowley might see the error of his ways and speak to him again? Surely. Hopefully.

---

Both of them are hurt and confused and lost and oh dear hell I really feel for them.

[t-a-a-1]

Dandelion: Prequel

4k Words

One-Shot

Summary: Optimus loves you. You love him. The two of you are too stupid to realize each other's feelings. 

But following a conversation about the afterlife, you realize how much he means to you.

...

A/N: Yearning. Love confession. Jealousy. Optimus confesses but doesn't realize it. You are dumb. Angst and Fluff. Enjoy!

Dandelion: Prequel

.....

Optimus thinks about you.

A lot.

And more than he likes to recognize.

Optimus has learned many things about Earth. You showed him music, art, poetry, literature, and movies. He enjoyed them, mostly because you shared them with him. The archivist in him was hungry for knowledge and you were the chef who satisfied his craving.

He also enjoyed sharing things with you. Of everything he could of Cybertron. The arts, the poetry that sometimes you didn't understand. The history and legends of his people.

He had thought many times of the things he would like to show you once Cybertron is restored. You would love it, he was sure of that. He could take you to see a play or maybe show you the beautiful cascades of Energon or the resting place of the Primes.

Optimus also thought of building you a home. You would be coming to Cybertron often after all. Maybe if you were comfortable enough, you could live with him. That way he could take care of you, just in case you woke up scared from a nightmare. He would cradle you until you fall asleep again and if needed, you could share his berth with him. Cybertron is naturally cold, he could keep you close to his spark to keep you warm.

"I won't live forever you know?"

You were waiting for him to roll into your driveway. He had promised you to do this for a very long time now and there's no way escaping it.

"I am aware," he says as he swiftly moves forward. "Your life expectancy is rather short."

"The more reason I have to clean you up," you walk towards him. "I may die tomorrow and you may live on without a proper bath? Not in my watch."

You had two buckets of water and a hose ready to be used. Some soap, sponges and rags. The buckets were heavy as you struggled to pick them up, you somehow still managed to whistle a song as you made your way to him.

He didn't understand how you could look so content while talking about your death. Optimus couldn't even phantom the idea. Much less imagine a day when you won't be with him. He had grown too accustomed to your presence. His spark had grown too fond of you.

In fact, you had occupied so much space in his spark that he knew that it wouldn't be able to function without you.

What will he do once you are gone?

"Where will you go?"

He asks as he feels the warm water impact his windshield and hood. It was nice to think you took the time to heat up the water just to make him comfortable.

"What do you mean?" you ask as you put soap on the big sponge and start rubbing it around. You had to use a small stool to reach the top of his hood. This is the first time you were doing this and you were trying to be extremely gentle. You had to remind yourself that Optimus is still a biological being. His body may be made out of metal but he still feels everything.

"Once I stop functioning, I am certain my spark will become one with the AllSpark," he makes a small pause before continuing "But what about you? Where will you go once you die?"

You stop and look at him.

"Will it be a place where I can meet you? See you at least?"

Contemplating what to do, you look at the sides to make sure no noisy neighbor is listening to you talking to a truck. You look back at him and wonder if you should tell him the truth or lie a little. He sounded worried. It is no wonder that he perceives death differently. For him, it was just another transformation. To you ... Well, you didn't know nor could explain the finality of death. You didn't want to worry him.

"Human souls work differently," you say as you go back to wash him. This time more delicately, trying to feel each inch of scratch he has ever gotten. War was written all over his body. "We don't go to a specific place. But I think we become one with the universe."

"Whenever you feel the wind on your faceplate," you lie to him but there's enough hope in your voice to comfort him. To make him believe you. "Whenever you see the rain or snow, when you see a rainbow, a flower or star. That's where I will be. Always."

It's comforting to know that everything beautiful the universe has to offer, is because of you. Of course, it would be. How couldn't it? When you smile the sun becomes brighter. When you laugh, the sound becomes a melody. You were alive and made life so breathtaking because of it. He imagined your death would be the same. Eternally beautiful as you become one with the universe.

He ex-vents in relief and you smile. Your lie was good enough. He believed it.

Nothing else was said but spent the rest of the time in a comfortable silence. You took your time to really study him. He has many scratches, some parts of his paint were even gone and you wonder if he had insecurities about them.

After all, if humans did, what made Cybertronians different?

You ran a finger through a large scraping on the top of his hood, feeling each small bump. The scrapped metal is rough against your fingertip, wondering what had attacked him to make this much damage.

"Are they not of your liking?"

For a small second, you could hear the doubt in his voice.

"Oh, no, I-"

As soon as you are about to respond, a sports car passes by, honking loudly and making the sound of its motor as loud as possible. Although you were uncomfortable you didn't want to give the guy the satisfaction of receiving attention. But you were now self-conscious of what you were wearing, Shorts and a dirty old black shirt. You wonder how was this even attractive.

"Hey, beautiful!" the guy rolls down his window and you feel the urge to wipe the smirk off his face. "Wanna ride this instead of that old rusty truck?"

You were about to defend yourself until you heard Optimus's engines turn on, the sound of his motor was so piercing that you felt your entire being vibrate. He turns his headlights as well, bright and powerful, almost blinding the guy.

Turning to look at Optimus, you see his holoform taking the pilot seat. You hated that holoform but it will do.

"Sorry, but my husband is quite overprotective."

You tell the guy, hoping he will take the hint and leave you alone.

"Well, if you ever want a good time, I am always available," his words disgusted you but you are glad he is finally leaving. "That truck got nothing on my car anyways."

Optimus moves forward in an aggressive manner. You are surprised at his behavior but don't question it.

"Thank you," you say as you step down off your stool.

You made sure that Optimus was covered in soap before taking the hose and letting the water flow.

"I don't know why every guy with a nice car has to act so weird."

"Oh, so you did find that car to be visually appealing?" He asks. "I would understand. After all, you might prefer an automobile with more agreeable qualities for someone of your age."

"Is that jealousy I hear, dear husband?"

You liked to tease him and even flirt with him from time to time. Mostly, you knew that nothing would ever happen. It was stupid to think that a Cybertronian and a human could ever be something more than just close friends. You assumed Optimus thought the same.

He had to.

"Just mere curiosity," he says as he feels the water running through his body, watching off all the dirt. It felt nice. "And what is a husband?"

"A life partner. Husband and wife usually take care of each other until the end of their days," that was the simplest way you could explain such a concept. "And I prefer Cybertronian men if you ask me. Even old rusty trucks."

"Can I conclude that you know other Cybertronian males who are old rusty trucks besides myself?

"No, just you."

Although you couldn't see his faceplate, you knew he didn't mind the comment. The two of you had joked around before and Optimus can definitely take a joke.

"So, you do indeed believe me to be an old rusty truck?"

"Yes, but you are my old rusty truck."

Optimus didn't know why but he enjoyed the sound of that.

"And that makes all the difference."

.

.

.

The hospital wasn't like you remembered. You had grown used to being in a military facility and being taken care of by soldier medics. Not only because of the Decepticon attacks you had faced before but because you had seen your fair share of war while reporting for the news.

"OH YOU ARE IN SO MUCH TROUBLE NOW!"

The last person you expected to see was Agent Fowler. Stepping inside your room, with a suitcase on hand and documents on others.

"I am fine thank you," you say as you sigh heavily. "The car crash didn't kill me and no Autobots were involved... so why are you here?"

"Because I have a very bothered Prime demanding to see you, saying that as your husband he has a right to know of your well-being."

"... What?"

"Look, I knew you and Prime had something going on but this has become a national matter," he shows you the documents he was holding but your head still hurts and don't feel like reading at all.

"If you and Prime are indeed married then by law I have to let him come see you. Do you know how hard we have worked to keep the Autobot's existence a secret?"

"And since when does the government of the United States care bout following their own laws?" you look around your room. You hoped to see another change of clothes but nothing. You were in desperate need of a shower. "Look, this is all a misunderstanding, I'll talk to Prime."

"It better be. We don't want to deal with court cases about deciding which constitution laws will apply to non-human beings," Fowler was moving the documents very aggressively and you assumed those were drafts of new laws to be reviewed. He works fast.

"Do you know how many laws we would have to re-write if you and Prime were to be married? Don't even get me started if you two were able to conceive a child."

"You better than I know that's never going to happen."

"I don't know the way Prime was begging to see you didn't seem normal," he put the documents in his suitcase and for once you were glad to see him go. "If I was you, I would hurry up. I don't want Prime to cause a commotion because he can't see his wife."

"I am not his wife," you say again, the term annoying you a bit.

Fowler just rolls his eyes and opens the room's door.

"Yeah, yeah, just hurry up Mrs. Prime."

.

.

.

The drive back to the base was unexpectedly quiet. When you saw Optimus parked outside the hospital parking lot, you thought you would be bombarded with questions.

Instead, Optimus just opened his pilot door and let you in. Nothing else. You didn't even dare to ask him to take you home. You just let him do what he pleased.

You two arrived at the base's tunnel. He stopped before reaching the hangar. He opened the door and you assumed he wanted you to get out. You were worried by his strange behavior.

As soon as you got out, he changed back to his normal form. He didn't hesitate to kneel in front of you. His optics look at every inch of your body, examining you.

"How are you feeling?"    He asks you but there is a certain coldness in his voice.

"I am fine, thank you."

He stands up, his optics still on you.

"You shall remain here until the next sun cycle. To make sure of your well-being."

He turns around and starts to walk away.

"Are you alright?"

You run towards him, your head still hurts but you want to talk to him. His indifference hurts more than you imagined.

"You lied to me."

You were confused. Speechless. Has he found out? That the only reason you were helping the Autobots to find the ancient relics is because you were waiting for the right moment to expose them? That you had a notebook in your home, with all the evidence you have so far of the existence of robot alien life? That every day you were waiting for the final piece of the puzzle. The last thing you need before revealing the truth to the world.

"While at the hospital, Mrs.Darby approached me and briefed me about your status. We talked, and she informed me that there are no scientific conclusions on Earth that your soul can become one with the universe."

You weren't expecting that.

"She said that your soul may be going to an unreachable dimension or just become nothing."

You didn't know what to say. There was a certain hurt look on his optics that you couldn't believe. He is grieving. It's the closest thing you have seen him in pain. But you couldn't say a thing. You weren't expecting this would affect him so much.

"Prime, I just ... I just didn't want to-"

"My apologies," he stops you and turns around. He didn't want to see you. That made your heart sink. The thought of disappointing him, of inflicting any type of pain was unimaginable to you.

But why?

"I just need a moment to myself."

.

.

.

A few days had passed. You hadn't talked to Optimus. But today was Friday and as per usual, you made your way to the rooftop, outside of the base. It has become a spoken agreement between you and the leader of the Autobots. To meet every Friday and just enjoy each other's company.

You two usually go on patrol night before and end up talking until sunrise. But today Optimus had left the base early, leaving you unattended. You took the time to go to the closest gas station and get yourself a pack of cigarettes and Optimus's favorite brand of oil. With the hope that he will still meet you.

But the hours passed and you had waited. You started a bonfire and lit up a cigarette.

More time passed and you became worried. Was he still upset? The day had become dark, the night was cold and you missed him. Stupidly so.

And you feel pathetic.

You were about to give up until Optimus finally showed up. He looked surprised to find you there. Probably thinking that you didn't want to see him either. When, in fact, it was all the contrary.

He didn't say a word as he sat next to you. You quietly put a small bucket of oil next to him. Of course, he noticed you and accepted the gesture.

You are about to take another puff from your cigarette when you see Optimus' servo reach out towards you. Using two digits, he takes the cigarette from your hand and throws it on the bonfire before you.

"Hey, I was-"

"Ratchet has informed me that this object you inhale from can reduce your lifespan significantly," Optimus slightly lectures you and you can sense some anger in his voice. "I see no meaning in you engaging in such activities."

"I am here for a good time not a long time," you say as you search in your backpack for the cigarette box. Marlboro wasn't your favorite cigarette brand but it was the only one that had menthol flavor at the gas station. "A very, very short time compared to yours."

You wanted to somehow go back into the topic of the afterlife. Anything that could open the conversation so you can have an opportunity to apologize. You wanted to hear him too, his thoughts. You wanted to know if he still finds your company enjoyable. If things were right between you two.

"You know, it kinda makes me sad that you'll probably forget me one day," you use a lighter for the cigarette, feeling piercing optics coming from Optimus. "And there's nothing I can do about it."

"I don't believe my processor will ever be capable of erasing memories related to you."

"How are you so sure?"

"I'll always have you in my spark," Optimus doesn't look at you but rather stares into the bonfire. His optics follow the dancing of the flames. He speaks freely.

"Even after I rust away and turn into nothingness. Once my spark has joined with the Allspark, it will still remember you. Even after the last star in the universe bursts into oblivion, my spark will reach you and it will call your name."

You are about to take another puff from your cigarette but his words stop you. Eloquence was not unknown to the Prime, he speaks it rather fluently but you didn't imagine it like this.

"I remember you now and I'll remember you then."

It seems he was on autopilot. It wasn't Optimus speaking but Orion Pax.

The bot who once knew how to love, the one who had dreams and hopes and was free to be himself. Without the pain in his shoulders, without responsibilities. No. This was not Optimus Prime. It was not Orion Pax. It was someone else.

His spark.

It was talking directly to you.

"My spark will look for you and I'll know it's you even if I was blind and deaf. Even if I ripped off my sense of smell and touch. I'll know it's you because not even time or death could take you away from me."

It's like he came back to himself. He blinks repeatedly after staring at the flames for too long. It was as if he was in a trance and when he turned to look at you, he noticed your cheeks. A little more redder than usual.

And all you could think of was him. Of the purity of his words. Of his beautiful being, of everything of him. His kindness, his truth. How he had changed your world with simple words. It was just him and this moment. United in this time. And you thought that maybe the reason you had been born was only to meet him. To hear those words that will forever be engraved in your heart. Will he ever know how much it means to you?

You weren't a believer. You used to be, when you were younger and less experienced. Before you witness war. Now you don't believe in anyone or anything.

But you believed in him. If anyone could make the impossible happen it was Optimus.

If he says he will find you in the afterlife, you know he will.

He made you believe.

You feel relieved to know that your existence meant more to the universe. That there's more than just finality, your soul will travel somewhere and have an impact on the bigger scale of things.

And if not ... then at least you could spend all of eternity with Optimus.

Your heart had finally begun to feel hope again.

And maybe something more than that.

Oh.

"Are you alright?" He asks, concern in his voice. "It seems you are overheating-"

"YOU GUYS CAME HERE ON A DATE WITHOUT TELLING US?!"

You shake a little and Optimus immediately moves closer to you in a very protective manner. The unknown voice startled you both although Optimus is always alert in a different way.

He immediately relaxes as his optics lay on the known small figure. You kinda wished he had stayed closer.

"Miko, leave them alone!" Jack comes out of the rooftop door, following Miko close behind. "Besides that's the whole point of a date. Let them enjoy it."

"Oh, no, you actually missed it!" you decide to amuse the kids, knowing that Optimus probably wouldn't mind you playing along.

"Prime just proposed and I said yes! We are getting married and having a bunch of human-cybertronian hybrid sparklings!"

You giggle a little, saying that out loud sounded ridiculous.

"Aha! I knew you two had a thing! Optimus always cleans his windows when he knows you are coming!" Miko turns to look at Jack and points at him. "You owe me a free meal!"

"She's not serious!" Jack says with a hand on his hip, frustration is clear. "Besides Ratchet said Earth didn't have the necessary resources for (y/n) to conceive."

"Wait, wait, wait," you throw away your cigarette into the bonfire, not wanting to be a bad influence and smoke in front of the kids. "You two talk to Ratchet about us?"

"Well, yes," Miko says. "He also bet cleaning duty-"

"Ahh, tsk,tsk!" coming from the rooftop door, the medic bot pops out. "Not talking behind my back! I did not bet on anything!"

"Yes, you did!" Miko points at the Autobot leader as Ratchet fully steps outside the door. "You said Optimus would never confess!"

"Is that true, old friend?"

Finally, Optimus speaks. He doesn't seem angry but confused.

"I-umm," Ratchet stumbles with his words until the realization hits him. "WAIT, YOU DID!?"

"No," Optimus says. "My feelings for (y/n) are strictly platonic."

"Ha! I win!" the medic turns to look at the kids. "You two will be doing cleaning duty."

Optimus sees you laugh with the kids. A scene that warms his spark. He can't guarantee tomorrow so he will treasure the now. Then maybe, if the stars align, he will gift you the strange flower he found.

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

A/N: Sorry for any mistakes I made, I don't proof read lol.

In this story, I originally intended for Optimus to have this big realization but Dandelion was already too long and rushed for my liking.

But, I think he has loved the reader for way longer than he realizes and  when he does realize it...

 Uff. He feels like a complete idiot and begins yearning for you like crazy.

I think Optimus would be devastated at the thought of one day losing you. He just doesn't know he would feel like that.

But I think my version of Optimus and Reader is that both of them are very oblivious to each other's feelings. Because in their mind, there is no way a Cybertronian and a human could ever share intimate feelings.

So they just go around each other thinking, 'Oh, this is a person whose company I enjoy very much' and 'Caring so much for this individual is absolutely normal ... Right?"

Dandelion was supposed to be a one-shot story but due to the support given I decided to write a prequel for it.

Sadly, I don't think I will write a continuation of the story. This is to prevent any more spoilers for the current fanfic I am writing 'The Darkest Hour.'

This prequel already gave out too many spoilers as it is and as I was writing this I had to stop myself from integrating certain scenes I wanted to write.

For example, Optimus finding out that human souls actually go nowhere goes completely different.

He can't understand the finality of death and he grieves for months at the thought he may not see you in the afterlife. He makes his research, anything, any sign that your soul and his spark might reconnect again.

And one day he sees you throwing away some of your things (you were cleaning your house) And he goes through the trash and asks you if he can stay with the things.

You tell him no because those things were trash (to you) they were like old used notebooks, empty boxes, pens, old clothes and make-up. He starts gathering things up but you take them away and he very anxiously tells you:

"Why are you so cruel to me? I only wish to preserve your memory once you are gone. You have taken my spark, do you also wish to take what's left of my sanity once you leave my side?"

Of course, he later on realizes that his love for you is so intense and real that he is certain his spark will meet your soul once again.

Dandelion may have come to its definite end but if you really want to read more then I do recommend reading 'The Darkest Hour' although it is a slow burn, it will have this type of content but more improved and polished.

ALSO

Requests are open so if any of you have any prompt ideas, you may inbox me or send me a message on this account. If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, everything is welcome! I can write small drabbles and other stuff.

And once again, I want to thank you all for your kind support! I am very new to Transformers and I didn't think I would be good enough to write fanfiction of it. But all of you have been extremely kind and I'll continue to write things that make me and all of you happy. Thank you for reading!

And I'll see you next time :)

Dandelion Pt.1:

https://www.tumblr.com/t-a-a-1/768702467874684928/dandelion?source=share

You can also read my other stories in here or Ao3:

https://archiveofourown.org/users/peachesandream

Thank you!

[tracklessreason]

Hi. It's me again.

WHERE THE FRICK IS BUMBLEBEE?! Sorry, let me calm down and retry.

Thank you for answering my last ask, I can't help but notice how no one knows where Bee's ghost is. And Megatron is the one looking into the Matrix... Is he haunting Megatron? Trying to stop him from doing it? Helping him?

Is Optimus's ghost following Ratchet around like a sad puppy?

Also just the pairings- Jazz with Megatronus? THat sounds... like fun.

Do the primes miss the other Primes and ask their host if they can check on the other bots that got shrapeneled? Maybe one of them asks if they can find a way to talk with the others... or maybe they can talk trough the hosts... maybe... (ah ah possessed arc)

(PS I really vibe with Hive's whole deal, he is very cool :D and I'm devastated that I'm the one that discovered how he explodes)

Hug hug!

Hi again!!! Don't worry, Bee is still here!

His spirit is just...struggling. He's weak at first, flickering like a dying light bulb. He hasn't left the fractured core of the Matrix still in his corpse, but his soul signature is so weak no one can find him. He's just sort of trapped there for a while, in the burnt out room he died in. Until Megatron of course.

Megatron breaks into the autobot base, walks past every sleeping mech he could easily have snuffed, and steals the Matrix core, and by unintentional extension, steals Bumblebee. Now at first, Bee is rightfully upset. He hates being at the gloomy decepticon base, he hates Megatron for taking his voice, he's just mad. Time passes as Megatron tinkers with the core, and Bee regains strength enough to....throw things???

It shouldn't be possible. Somehow this unstable remnant of the Matrix doesn't contain him, but merely houses him, and as he grows stronger, he can appear as an apparition to Megatron. He uses it almost solely to hinder him. With no voice (even ghost Bee gets no respite) all he can really do is mess up Megatron's workspace and insult him through pantomime. Really he doesn't understand why Megatron puts up with it, but aside from the occasional fit of rage at his antics, the decepticon leader ignores him as much as possible and puts his all into trying to restore the Matrix.

Before long he starts having one sided conversations with Bumblebee. Its mostly complaints at first, and insults towards him and the autobots and whatever else goes wrong in his life outside of this little workshop Bee cant leave. It soon gives way to more private matters; intentionally or not, Megatron is revealing his very convoluted, very mixed feelings about Optimus Prime.

The war has gone on too long, why couldn't that idiot just see things from his perspective, he deserved to die, he will be brought back, how could his oldest friend just leave him like this...

To Bee it sounds...exactly like how Optimus felt about Megatron, just drowned in molten anger issues. Against his self preservation instinct, Bee decides to work towards putting this whole mess to bed. Nothing better to do.

With what limited knowledge and communication he has, he does his best to try and help Megatron fix the Matrix. They have spats still, and plenty of set backs, but things smooth over when Megatron (begrudgingly) admits to feelings of regret over taking Bee's voice. As an olive branch, Bee explains something to Megatron that he's been dying to know: how Optimus died.

Things sour fast. Megatron is determined to murder Starscream, Bee is frustratedly trying to explain that if he does so, this little partnership of convenience is over, and he will ensure that the Matrix is never restored. The end of the war relies almost solely on Megatron reeling in his damn anger, and Bee doesnt intend to allow any slip ups. He has no idea how this will end when Megatron leaves the workshop that night.

On the other side of things, the Primes are having a real...weird time?? The ones without hosts can communicate with each other, but the other four are basically cut off from all but their hosts. They don't have the ability to take control anymore, and even if they did, their hosts are nowhere near as easy to possess, nor as willing, as Hive Prime was. Ratchet especially has threatened to tear the Matrix metal from his frame and grind it to dust if Prima so much as thinks about trying it. The other three hosts are similarly put off.

Once again the Primes are relegated to giving advice, but it's not advice anyone seems to want, and yeah, it's mostly because of the wild pairings. Megatronus is constantly clutching his pearls over Jazz's laid-back attitude and deliberate ignorance of his wishes. Prima's calm rationality does little to temper Ratchet's snappy demeanor and only really gets on his nerves (how can you be so calm after what you all did?). Ironhide straight up refuses to acknowledge Quintus. Drift is probably the only one feeling alright with all this. Alpha Trion is generally reasonable, and isn't interested in having control over Drift's form, nor was he interested in it with Hive, so they just vibe like college roommates.

It's uncomfortable, but the Primes are used to sharing space. The worst part is actually sharing it with fewer mechs than usual. The Primes all miss each other to varying degrees, but for the most part are either too egotistical to admit it, or think it improper to mention.

Of course, grand prize for worst ghost time currently goes to Optimus. Dying, watching Bee suffer, feeling his friend's life force extinguish...

He might as well be a husk right now, full on silent treatment is all he's capable of at the moment. The other Primes know better than to try and speak with him. This is their doing to begin with, the channeling of their energy that strained Bee so heavily. Optimus follows the elected council around during the days, but at night he sits outside the room where Hive's body rests. He was there the night that Megatron broke in.

It takes immense effort to travel far enough out from the base to go see Megatron, and he needs several cycles to recover after every attempt, but he keeps doing it, knowing he could fade away permanently. When he gets there, he's too weak for Bee or Megatron to detect him. But he can hear their talks. He misses them both more than words can say.

(Sorry the response is so long, lol. This ask really got the gears turning in my head. I hope at least that makes up for being the one to find out that Ending 3 Hive dies bloody. I'm really flattered to hear you like him! For me that's quite high praise coming from you. Hug hug!)

[spiritsonic]

Hi Evan! Big fan here, hope I'm not disturbing you at an inconvenient time. I love your work as an artist and writer, but it's not just Sonic that you work on. It would be cool to know more about your work Ensouled. What is it about? Who is the ghost guy and the human girl?

Sure, I’ve been wanting to write some new character bios. Check it all out under the break!

CHARLEY PARKHEARSE

Once, long ago, Charley was the best teamster in Santa Alma county. His stagecoach flew over treacherous mountain roads, One crack of his whip could snuff a candle’s flame from six yards, and any bandit who dared to stop his stage would meet the business end of a rifle. Anyone who cared to comment about his sour temper or murky past knew to keep their voices low… and God help any fool who questioned Charley’s refusal to remove his heavy greatcoat, no matter the weather. 

But Charley’s fame was bound to earn him enemies… When the bandit Sugarfoot learned that Charley was in fact born a █████, the secret spread like wildfire through the mountains. Charley was ruined. He thought his life was over, until he was visited by a being dealing in black magic; a devil known in his human guise as Aurelius Flood. This devil promised to erase Charley’s secret from the minds of Santa Alma’s people, restoring Charley’s reputation, in return for his soul. Charley accepted, though he would not learn the depth of his folly until the night he died… and was raised as a ghost by that same devil, now bound to his service. Still, the devil was true to his word. Charley’s secret was safe, even beyond the grave.

At one point in the many decades since his death, Charley thought he could escape Aurelius’ control. But today… he’s given up that hope. He haunts the roads he was once the master of, frightening drivers to meet his quota of Soul and waiting ‘till his memories fade away, taking the pain of his mistakes with them. That is until, in a flash of ill-advised mercy, Charley spares the life of a young woman he scared off the road…

(Charley is LOOSELY based on Charley Darkey Parkhurst, a real historical figure. Look him up! He's a really cool example of a queer, probably trans person ((by today's standards)) in history. The real Charley's dying wish was to be remembered as a man; a wish that has not been respected by history. I want to explore the pros and cons of living closeted or stealth in an ever-changing world, while also honoring his memory and wishes as best I can in a modern context.)

SEQUOIA LOGANBERRY

Sequoia would like you to believe that she is a monster. It’s easier that way. Ever since her father left for a mistress on the east coast in her senior year of high school, Sequoia has been working a dead-end job at the local amusement park and doing her damndest to drink and drive herself into an early grave. And she almost does it… Until a friggin' SKELETON GUY fishes her out of the lake she drove into?! And now she’s getting these insane migraines and seeing spooky shit everywhere???? 

After a close encounter with death (and Charley), Sequoia develops an unpredictable 6th sense that threatens to finish what she started in her car the other night… Until she’s found by the misanthropic wizard Monty and his much nicer siren husband Luka, who help her get her new powers under control… in trade for her helping them with a few odd jobs. Nothing crazy, just, oh, infiltrating the local magical crime lord’s fey court. Sequoia is just the wild card they need to break a fifty-year standoff between the supernatural powers vying for control over Santa Alma. Sequoia will need to learn fast, about both magic and herself, or else end up a pawn in other people’s plans. Will she be able to make the friends she desperately needs and find direction in her life before she’s swept away?

OTHER CHARACTERS INCLUDE...

MONTY MOUROS, aforementioned misanthropic wizard. Older than he looks. Came to Santa Alma in the 1930’s to earn his fortune, and ended up embroiled in one of Charley’s bids for freedom. It didn’t go well, and he still holds a bitter grudge. He’s guarded the local amusement park, the Boardwalk, from Aurelius Flood for years, but other than that has hidden himself from both the magic and mundane worlds for decades.

LUKA, a siren who lost his singing voice in a trap set by Flood. If not for Monty, it would have taken his life. When they were young the two fell in love, and Luka defied his family’s traditions to be with Monty. They’re still together, and Luka is the only person who can get past Monty’s harsh exterior. Luka now runs a speakeasy for spirits hidden beneath the Boardwalk, where he mixes magical cocktails and turns the rumor mill. He is a kind soul who defines himself through service to others…perhaps to a fault. 

AURELIUS FLOOD, The mastermind behind most of Santa Alma’s woes. A cruelly ambitious leprechaun who thrives on greed, he’s been following the money since the time of the Romans. In the 1800’s he came to the new world, where he found fabulous opportunity during the California gold rush. Assuming a human disguise he carved out a business empire in the mundane world, and a criminal one in the magic world. He built Santa Alma himself, engineering the city’s growth. Fattening a pig for the slaughter. Now, the only thing standing between him and his ultimate payday is Monty and the pivotal bit of territory he controls at the Boardwalk. It’s stymied him for years, but he’s got a new plan…

SUGARFOOT, Flood’s left-hand man. As the illegitimate son of a powerful Californio rancher and an Ohlone woman trapped in the California mission system, fate did not deal Sugar a kind hand. After his father’s family lost their rancho, Sugar turned to a life of crime. He got his sarcastic nickname from a festering leg wound he earned in a shootout with Santa Alma’s top teamster, Charley Parkhearse. As his infection grew, so did his hatred… These mountains should belong to him, not some johnny-come-lately from New Hampshire. So he turned to another stranger for help; Aurelius Flood. In trade for his soul, he gained information; a secret that, if it were to get out, would ruin Charley forever. Sugar leapt at the deal, and got exactly the revenge he’d wanted… until Charley came for him, blinded by rage and shame, and shot him dead in the street. In death, Sugar and Charley found themselves in the same situation… bound to serve Flood forever. As coworkers. Hell would have been a mercy. 

(Sugarfoot is also based on a historical figure of the same name, but almost nothing is known about him other than he was a bandit with a very stinky foot. IRL Charley shot him when he tried to raid his stagecoach.) 

ZINNIA LOGANBERRY, Sequoia’s annoyingly precocious little sister. While Sequoia turned to delinquency after their parents’ divorce to avoid her feelings, Zinnia threw herself into her studies for the same reason. She has become the model student and daughter, earning their workaholic mom’s favor… but man, this kid is Burnt. Out. When she finds out about Sequoia’s new adventures with the supernatural, she throws herself into this new world as a release from her demanding daily life only to once again take things too far. And now, the consequences come with fangs, and hair, and claws…

DEBORAH LOGANBERRY, Sequoia and Zinnia’s mother. She knows she could be doing better by her daughters, but ever since her no-good husband left them, she’s been the family’s sole provider. Her job in the city’s planning and zoning department is the only thing keeping them off of the streets, and the price of housing in Santa Alma is only going up. It’s a matter of survival; surely, once they’re more financially stable, she’ll be able to patch things up with Sequoia. And maybe something will come of the new friendship she’s struck up with Mr. Flood. He IS quite the successful developer, after all… perhaps they could be more than friends?

[gay-dorito-dust]

Can you write a part 2 for the gambit scenario? Where they're restored by the tva per Wade's request and they'll go back to their respective timelines and gambit wants the reader to come to his? Thank youuu!

Part 1 here

When Wade told you that he would find a way to set things right back at the TVA for you, Remy, Laura, Electra and Blade, you didn’t bother to believe that he could. He was only making and educated wish on something he wasn’t fully aware on how it worked, and only did so to appease people, people who had long since had all semblance of hope drained from them the longer they stayed in the Void with little to no chance of escape.

And even if you were faced with the opportunity to go home, you were then forced to face another issue; would you have the heart to part from Remy? Would you be able to and go back to a home where he didn’t know you and was instead completely enraptured by a southern belle, knowing that at one point you and another version of him had something that words couldn’t barely describe?

You honestly didn’t think you could leave Remy, for you’d mourn the life where he would make you something to eat on whatever he could find, giving you sweet affection as he held you from behind and whispered sweet nothings in his native Cajun against your lips. Remy has become a vital part of your soul that you don’t want to taken away, and you’d assumed Remy felt the exact same with how much more affectionate he had became after Wade made his promise before leaving with Logan; It was almost as if the poor man thought you were going to disappear if he were to ever let go of your hand as you slept.

‘Remy?’ You asked.

‘Yes mon Cher.’ He replied, moving to his side to look at you.

‘What if Wade manages to find us a way out, a way home? Do you think you’d take it?’ Remy made a face of thought, going home was all anyone in your group wanted and he was no exception to this, however whenever he looked into your eyes he found himself already at home. ‘That depends.’ He replied.

‘Depends on what?’ You asked, shifting to your side to look at him better.

Remy grabs your hand and intertwines your fingers with his own. ‘Depends on whether I can take you home with me without consequences.’ You gasped softly. ‘You’d want me to come with you? Remy I don’t think the TVA-‘

‘Screw what the TVA think Cherie.’ Remy interrupted as he leaned in close to press his forehead against your own, making you look into his eyes. ‘I’m not leaving this here void without you nor do I want to return to my timeline without you either. So they have to abide by my terms if they don’t want ol’ Gambit stepping a toe out of line.’ He adds with a charming smirk and you couldn’t help but press a kiss to his lips,

‘I don’t want to go back to my timeline without you either.’ You whispered to him as you shuffled closer to him until you were practically tucked under his chin before falling asleep.

However the day Wade promised would come did came when an orange doorway like portals appeared before you and Remy, along with a TVA agent who told you that the portal would take you both to your respective timelines.

‘On whose orders are you acting upon?’ You asked the agent.

‘A one Wade Wilson.’ The agent replied before disappearing into the portal, leaving you and Remy to realise that Wade wasn’t full of shit and was being legit about his promise.

‘We can go home.’ You said but even after you said the words, the pit in your stomach only grew larger as your fear of having to depart from Remy grew stronger. ‘He wasn’t lying, he said he got us home and he has.’ You looked to Remy who had a conflicted expression across his face. ‘No wonder we didn’t see Blade, Electra nor Laura today because they must’ve already gone home.’ Remy says as he looks at the organ he doorway like portal before looking back at you and smiling. ‘Well mom Cher I think it’s about time we leave also. It is time to go home.’ He adds as he stands up, offering you his hand to take as you started at it then him.

‘Home.’ You echoed as you took his hand, allowing him to pull you out to your feet as you both walk closer to the portal, that was until you stopped completely and blurred. ‘I can’t go home! You are my home Remy and I don’t want to leave you and-‘ Remy stops your rambling by grabbing your chin and gently encouraging you to look at him, only to see him smiling sweetly at you as he pressed a kiss to your forehead. ‘And I promised last night that I wouldn’t leave you either mon Cher. I do not intend to break that promise as my offer for you to come home to my timeline still stands waiting for a response.’ He tells you.

You on the other hand couldn’t help but feel as though this was all some dream and that you were still asleep. ‘Wouldn’t we get in trouble?’ You asked knowing that the you in his timeline was dead. So you could clearly see how this wouldn’t go down too well with the higher ups at the TVA, bringing you home to your timelines was one favour, but letting you live out your life in a different timeline was another thing that they’d probably won’t tolerate as well.

Remy shrugs as he pulls you in close to him, smiling reassuringly. ‘Then we shall meet the consequences head on if we must, but I have made it known that there is no Remy without you mom cher. My heart lies with you as it has since the day we first met and I have no intentions of living out a life without you to complete it.’

You smiled at him as you stole a kiss from his lips, still scared of what was to come but finding yourself more and more convinced to leave with Remy. ‘You wanted my answer? Well here it is.’ You took a deep breath as did he as he watched you with a slight nervousness. ‘I’ll come with you Remy. I don’t want to be unhappy in my own timeline when I know I can be far happier with you wherever we go for you are my home and more.’ You confessed as you watched the smile on Remy’s face grow as he swoops in to steal a sweet kiss from your lips this time, which sent off the butterflies in your stomach as you met his passion with your own, happy to know that you weren’t going at this alone anymore and had someone who was going to make it all worthwhile.

‘Let us live out the rest of our lives starting today mon Cher.’ Remy said softly as he squeezed your hand reassuringly as you both then walked through the orange door like portal, ready to start your life together but real this time.