#but also knowing that you ??? left or disappeared from them

[seresinhangmanjake]

Fremen Girl

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Fremen!reader

Summary: The potential wife of any future Baron must prove herself by surviving in the arena before the current Baron will permit the marriage. In this case, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen wants a wife, and he might have just found a woman capable of meeting that challenge.

Notes/Warnings: this is just the first section of this fic, which I can't decide if I want as one long fic (5k words) or multiple short parts (5 or so). If you like it, feel free to provide an opinion on that. Comments help me out and make me happy, so they're always welcome :) Also, Dune inaccuracies and typos.

Words: 900

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

The toe of a boot jams into your calf. Your knees are the first to crack on the tiled flooring of Arrakeen Palace’s throne room. You land with a grunt, followed by four more grunts as the knees of your Fremen brothers are forced down beside you.

That’s all that remains of the troop sent to attack one of the Harkonnen patrol groups. Out of twenty-one, only five. 

The five of you make a neat line in front of the empty throne with you in the middle. From left to right, one after the other reduced to half height, your heads down, arms bound behind your backs, and blood dripping from various Harkonnen-inflicted wounds. 

Your only wound is a swollen, busted lip, which you found curious until you realized their goal was to capture the remaining few of you, not kill. That swift fist to the face had caught you off guard while you were trying to aid a friend who inevitably met their death, and in that moment, you knew you were going to be made an example of; a warning to other Fremen: Be smart. Don’t end up like this girl. 

So, here you are, in a Harkonnen-occupied palace awaiting your grim fate, forced to bow to an old baron you thought was too lazy to leave his home planet of Giedi Prime, let alone bother with a handful of Fremen who made a minuscule dent in his massive army. 

But then you hear footsteps echoing as they make their way through the vast, hollow room. 

“Are these the ones?” is asked in a low, gruff voice. It’s akin to the voices of the men who brought you here, but it contains a unique richness and lacks the worn, overused quality that comes from many decades of aging. Definitely not the Baron.

“Yes, my Lord na-Baron,” one of the brutes answers from behind you, conveniently answering your unasked question as well.

“And which of them did the most damage?” 

Thick fingers dig into your hair, nails scraping your scalp as your head is yanked back. You swallow your whine from the pain and meet a set of deep blue eyes. You know those eyes—well, you know stories of those eyes. As a small child, you overheard whispers amongst the Fremen elders of the Harkonnen boy with the soulless eyes who killed his mother and maimed his family’s slaves. The promising younger nephew of the Baron: Feyd-Rautha. Barely older than yourself and yet word of his deadly glare was already jumping from planet to planet. 

But those eyes change as they look at you. There’s a quick shift from wicked to amused, a glint flitting across his irises as he scans your face. His lips tick upward—almost imperceptibly—but you catch it before it disappears. 

“Release her,” the future baron instructs. The tension from your abused strands eases as he steps forward and crouches in front of you, much too close for your liking. You want to flinch away, but Fremen do not cower to intimidation. 

“So,” he starts, peering into you, “you're the one causing me trouble, hmm?”

“She took down twelve of our men.”

His brow raises and his head tilts, but Feyd-Rautha does not break your stare. “Twelve? Is that right?”

“She bites as well, the fucking bitch,” the soldier grumbles to his leader. When you roll your eyes, said leader's lips quirk again. “Too much spirit in her if you ask me.”

All sense of amusement drains from the na-Baron’s features. Cold blue eyes flick to the soldier, and with the attention momentarily off of you, you take a breath. 

“I did not ask you,” he says in an eerily calm tone. 

You can practically hear the gulp that struggles to make its way down the other Harkonnen’s throat. “Apologies, my Lord.”

Feyd-Rautha returns his gaze to you. He examines you for a few long beats before lifting his hand and swiping his thumb through the blood beginning to cake on your split lip. 

“Don’t touch her!” comes from the left in your native tongue.

You wince. He’s one of the younger ones, just shy of your age. Well-trained enough to be a dangerous force, faster than the older Fremen at your sides, but so full of hatred for Harkonnens that his enthusiasm has him making silly mistakes, clearly not excluding shouting in a threatening tone when it would be best to remain silent. 

The butt of a Harkonnen weapon slams into the back of his head and he falls forward, landing face-first on the floor. 

The na-Baron doesn’t pay the disruption a lick of attention. His index finger meets his thumb and they swirl together in small circles until they’re thoroughly coated in your blood. Then, one at a time, he sticks them into his mouth and sucks that little bit of you off of each pale digit. 

“Lover?” he asks you, nudging his head toward your knocked-out friend. You shake your head.

Leisurely taking in your features, his eyes trace the curl of your lashes, the slope of your nose, then the V of your cupid’s bow before he says, “A woman more deadly than the men who flank her is quite rare...and impressive.” Your brows pinch at the compliment and he smirks. “I think I might have use for you, Fremen girl.”

---

A/N(just a repeat of the notes up top in case you missed it): this is just the first section of this fic, which I can't decide if I want as one long fic (5k words) or multiple short parts (5 or so). If you like it, feel free to provide an opinion on that. Comments help me out and make me happy, so they're always welcome :)

@avidreader73 @alwaysadreamingoptimist @lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom @workof-a-rr-t

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha #dune part 2 #austin butler #dune #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune 2

[literaila]

Hey, I don’t know what you make of love triangles but I’ve always wondered how Typical Family would look like if reader once had a “not so obvious” crush on Geto and the two almost looked like a couple except Geto only saw her as a friend and Satoru doesn’t actually start to “see” reader until he sees how broken up she is after Geto’s betrayal. Kind of looks like the thing between Sasuke/Sakura/Naruto (ahem Except Sakura takes the less toxic path). You don’t have to indulge in this nor does it have to be canon to your original story but I’m just curious 🌚

now i dont think satoru was ever jealous of suguru because 1. suguru is all-knowing and 2. suguru is a literal big brother to you and there is only platonic admiration there.

but. you know who satoru is jealous of? nanami kento.

okay, there’s really no arguing—the boy needs a haircut.

he also needs to stop letting you hang off of him, and taking you out to dinner (because you find his interest in food a bit bizarre, and funny), and making you laugh all of the goddamn time.

satoru may be the strongest, the prettiest—but he has the disadvantage of being older than you. it’s not often yaga sends the two of you somewhere together—or any of the first years with the seconds.

and it’s just not fair, okay?

the only reason you even train with satoru is because he’s the only person who can see your technique, the only one who has a fair fight.

in fact, the only reason satoru gets to hang out with you at all is because you like everyone else. your classmates like suguru and shoko—and tolerate satoru.

and maybe it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth when he sees you standing a little bit too close to nanami. maybe it makes him feel like his world could collapse—disappear—right in front of him.

he does not want to endure being subjected to your schoolgirl crush on a boy who can’t even be bothered to cut his hair. and what would you see in him anyway? are brown eyes preferable to his outer-worldly blue ones? is satoru’s hair just not yellow enough?

…is nanami your type?

all of this to say, it’s definitely not satoru’s fault that he just accidentally threw nanami across the courtyard.

it’s the boys fault, obviously, for daring you to wish him good luck, for saying something so funny before they began that his smug face is still so pleased from making you laugh.

it’s not satoru’s fault.

but he does realize his mistake when instead of aweing over him like he’d wanted—you rush to nanami.

satoru is standing there, a rare frown on his face, looking down at his hands like they’re going to give him some answers.

“are you taking your anger out on the first years, now?” suguru asks, dryly, looking over to where you’re checking nanami’s pupillary response.

“don’t know what you’re talking about,” satoru grumbles, feeling even more betrayed.

what does that kid offer than he can’t?

“you know you could just talk to her, right? you don’t need to beat nanami up to prove a point.”

“if he wasn’t so weak i wouldn’t have—“

and then you’re walking back to them, nanami’s arm slung over your back as you half carry him. his face is already puffing up. “where’s shoko?”

you give him a look with unbridled rage. satoru can already feel the scolding coming on.

“i think she had a meeting with yaga, or something,” satoru answers, giving you his best innocent look.

it does nothing.

suguru inspects nanami. “do you need help?”

“no,” you frown at the boy hanging on you and sigh. “i’m taking him to the infirmary. i don’t know where yu went, but if you see him will you tell him that we left?”

“sure.”

suguru nudges satoru. “uh, yeah. we’ll tell him.”

you nod sternly at them both. “thank you.”

and then you’re walking away, even closer to nanami than you were before.

satoru is already pouting. it doesn’t take much.

“you’re stupid, you know that?”

“he asked me to—!”

“he wanted to learn. not get a concussion for no reason.”

satoru waves a hand. “he wont even remember it tomorrow.”

suguru is smirking at him, looking like he knows something that satoru doesn’t. “because he has brain damage?”

“because shoko will heal him.”

suguru only shakes his head. “i’m going to find haibara. he probably got lost again.”

satoru nods but remains there, with his arms crossed.

seriously, nanami kento of all people?

*

meanwhile, you’re lugging kento up onto one of the tables in the infirmary, feeling like you should’ve forced gojo to carry him the whole way.

you would’ve—if the sight of him didn’t make you want to rip your hair out.

…for a multitude of reasons, of course.

“okay. you okay? how’s your head?”

“bruised.”

you snort, pushing his hair back so you can see the black eye that’s already developing. at least it won’t get the chance to turn purple, you think.

“i’m sorry. i don’t know why gojo did that.”

kento laughs, leaning again away from your hand. you wonder if it’s his possible concussion, or if what you said was really all that funny.

you’ve only gotten him to laugh like… three times.

“you can tell him that i’m not interested in stealing you away.”

“gojo?”

he nods.

“why would i tell him that?”

nanami’s eyes closed. he looks like he’s aged years in the last hour. “are you naturally ignorant, or are you trying to distract me?”

you cross your arms. “what do you mean?”

“whatever’s going on between you and that white haired freak, just leave me out of it.”

“going on? there’s nothing going on. gojo is just an idiot—“

“seems like it’s spreading.”

“are you sure you’re okay, ken? i think you’re going crazy.”

nanami sighs. you can practically see his eyes rolling under his eyelids. “where’s shoko?”

you look around, biting your lip. “i don’t know… i thought she’d be here by now. i’ll go check the classrooms.”

he nods.

“don’t fall asleep, okay? i mean it.”

“just hurry.”

and you turn around the door, more questions running through your head than when you walked in.

*

satoru is still standing there, contemplating his life choices (of which there have been few) when you’re running back across the courtyard.

but you slow as you near him, your eyes filled with intent.

and maybe he was waiting for this.

“you asshole,” you say, hitting him on the shoulder—which he allows because any moment of you touching him is one that satoru wants to savor. “what were you thinking?”

he stands there, completely still, for just a moment more. you’re here now. with him. who’s with nanami then?

still, he shrugs. “i just forgot how weak he was.”

“oh, you forgot? you forgot that it was training and kento isn’t some special grade curse you—“

“is he dead?”

“what? why would you say that?”

“if he was really a special grade curse he’d already be dead.”

“you’re so arrogant,” you grind out, shaking your head at him. “and reckless! kento probably has a concussion.”

“then why aren’t you looking after him?”

“i—what?”

“why are you here yelling at me,” satoru gestures to himself, a grin forming on his face. “instead of making sure that he’s okay?”

“i—“ your mouth opens. then closes. “i went to go look for shoko and i didn’t think that you…” you shake your head again, frowning.

satoru just smiles at you.

he likes you a bit flushed and angry anyway.

“stop smiling at me like that!”

“what? i’m not allowed to smile now?”

“no. after today you’re not allowed to do anything. you’re lucky i’m such a good person or else you’d be six feet under—“

“you expect me to believe that you would actually kill me?”

“if i didn’t have a moral obligation, yes.”

satoru laughs.

“shut up,” you say, hitting him again. “i’m angry enough that i could do it.”

he shakes his head, slinging his arm around your shoulder. he has to make up for all of the time that nanami got to cling to you—has to repossess this, or he might go insane.

“that’s not why i’m laughing.”

“get off of me.”

“you wouldn’t kill me,” satoru whispers, right in your ear, delighting in a shiver that you can’t hold back. “even if you could. you like me too much to do it.”

you push him off of you, scowling. “i do not like you—“ you insist, only slightly breathless. “you just beat up my friend for no reason.”

“friend?”

you scoff, crossing your arms and looking up at satoru like he’s a demon sent straight from hell—just to torment you.

have you ever looked at nanami like that?

no, satoru thinks, you haven’t.

“yes, friend,” you repeat, rolling your eyes, “i know you’re unfamiliar with the concept but really. why is everyone acting so weird today?”

satoru’s grin is almost blinding. there’s no one else you get so worked up over. no one else who you would pause just to yell at.

“c’mon,” he says, instead of answering. he pushes himself back onto you, pulling you close by your waist. “i’ll look for shoko with you. you can tell me about how much you like me on the way.”

“gojo satoru, i will still murder you—“

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #a typical family #gojo satoru #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #gojo x you #satoru gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo x y/n #satoru x reader #satoru x you #satoru gojo x you #satoru gojo x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jjk fanfic #jjk fluff #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu gojo #jujutsu kaisen

[daistea]

marriage hcs with mithrun and kabru? im a huge sucker for domestic stuff lol

Ya!!

2,500 words

Dungeon Meshi Spoilers ‼️❗️

no tw I don’t think

ₓ˚. ୭ ˚○◦˚.˚◦○˚ ୧ .˚ₓ

♡︎ Mithrun ♡︎

Mithrun’s proposal isn’t big. He just slips the ring on your finger and tells you it’s happening.

He wouldn’t care what the wedding is like, just tell him where to be and when. Though if you insist on his opinion he’ll tell you that something simple would be most comfortable.

I wonder if there’s like a formal outfit for the Canaries… Or elven wedding garbs. Idk!

If you have a reception and you force him to dance, then you get to see Mithrun’s nobility training in effect! He can waltz!

He ends up throwing the bouquet because reasons but he just straight up launches it into Pattadol’s face.

Anyway, onto home life. Mithrun actually cleans a lot, just out of habit. So you don’t have a messy husband, yay!

But he doesn’t care much about decorating his surroundings. You’re the one who fixes up the house how you like it.

He teleports around the house but he’s very careful to always know where you are. He often sneaks up on you, not on purpose at first. After a while he starts sneaking up on you because your reactions are funny.

Every good couple finds ways to torment each other. It keeps the romance alive.

Mithrun puts his cold fingers and feet on you in bed. He does it with a straight face but you see the evil intent in his eye…

You reorganize on a regular basis, and sometimes move all the furniture two inches to the left. You do this when he’s gone and honestly he doesn’t notice until he starts running into things without explanation.

Mithrun is a very touchy person with you. And only with you. Nobody else.

He wraps his arms around you from behind a lot. He kisses your neck. He buries his face in your hair. And he’ll do it anywhere, this man does not care who sees.

People new to Melini hear about the fearsome, dangerous, cold Captain of the Canaries. And when they hear he has a spouse they’re like ??oh??

Then they see him cuddling you. His face is blank but he’s holding you tight, closing his eyes as he rests his head on yours. And they wonder if this is the fearsome guy they heard about.

Marriage looks good on Mithrun. He never thought he’d get married, ever. But he craves your company, he wants you around all the time, he wants every inch of your attention. Your affectionate smiles should be only for him. And he has no problem telling you that you’re his and your attention should be on him.

I mean, you’re one of the few desires he has. He’s going to soak up every bit of you, inject you in his bloodstream, graft you into the fabric of his soul. He’s not going to say that, but it’s true.

My guilty pleasure is making Mithrun into an obsessive partner, but that’s honestly just my headcanon/preference and not something I would insist is canon to his character.

Obsessive as in following you around like a lost puppy, always finding some way to touch you, overwhelming attraction, getting a bit irritable when you’re away, being very possessive, etc. But then again, that’s just my preference talking.

At night, he holds you like he thinks you’re about to disappear.

You cast sleep spells to help him rest at night or else he’ll be awake for hours and hours until his body gives out.

Mithrun likes being the little spoon, even if you’re smaller than him. But he also likes being the big spoon sometimes. #switch

You think cooking together will be sweet and fun, right? Wrong. It’s horrible. The first time you try to cook together you just keep bumping into each other, getting in the way, picking up things and setting them down somewhere and forgetting where that was. It gets a bit tense.

You don’t cook together again.

Mithrun actually likes cooking and will probably want to take turns making the food. Except his food is crap at first. Total shit. He’ll learn.

When Mithrun is irritated or mad at you gives you the silent treatment. He’s grumpy. He’ll mutter under his breath a little. Just love on him until he softens up. Wrap your arms around him from behind and harass him a bit.

Speaking of harassment, Mithrun does that all the time. You’ve got some paperwork or whatever that you’re working on? Well he wants your attention. Right now. And he’s going to get it.

You just see him walk into the room with that look in his eye, his pupils focused, his mouth set in a line. And you groan because you know he’s about to do everything in his power to distract you.

That means flopping down like a rag doll in your lap. Or kissing your neck, biting a bit. His hands are going places. He won’t outright say he wants attention, but it’s clear he wants it.

Then the moment you actually give him attention, he gets up and wanders away.

He steals the blankets at night, but fortunately does not spread out much.

I feel like Mithrun would have a bunch of weird hobbies. He’s just throwing stuff at the wall and seeing what sticks. There’s pottery, of course. But that’s kind of messy. He makes really dumb bowls too. Idk, they’re just dumb looking bowls.

He takes up gardening. But one time he didn’t realize he was getting too hot and he kinda collapsed face first into the squash patch. He tasted dirt that day. It was fine.

He tried knitting! He makes a horrible little stuffed pig and sends it to Milsiril. She doesn’t respond with a thank you letter or anything. She hides it in a box in her attic so she doesn’t have to look at it.

Mithrun isn’t concerned with being good at these things, he’s just doing them to do them. King behavior

I think you’d both eventually adopt a pet. And by adopt I mean Mithrun found this dog digging through the trash and brought it home.

You share each other’s clothes a lot. It doesn’t matter how small or big you are, Mithrun is pulling on your sweater and drowning in the scent of you. He also likes seeing you in his clothes! I imagine he wears tall-man clothes half the time tbh, idk I just like Mithrun in baggy flowy tunics that are rolled up at the arms… But elf clothes physically fit him better because he’s so smol.

Generally, your life is peaceful. You might go with him on monster surveys, or help at the noodle shop. You’re a team, you move in sync with each other, able to tell what the other is thinking just from a look.

Often around other people, you and Mithrun silently communicate through passing glances.

He never takes his ring off. Never. He gets grumpy if you take yours off.

Mithrun’s brother likes to visit. I headcanon that his brother has a family by now (UNCLE MITHRUN!!!) and they all love you. (One night he’s putting his niece or nephew to bed and they’re like ‘uncle Mithrun, the hat man doesn’t like you’ and he’s like ..okay. Thank you for letting me know.)

You two have a routine! Mithrun lives by routine anyway, so you quickly follow and do your daily things. It’s not boring though because you’re happy to be doing them together.

Life is calm and he’s content. It’s so much more than he ever thought he’d get. He’s going to savor every second.

♡︎ Kabru ♡︎

Kabru’s proposal is simple and intimate, but he makes sure to do things right. He tells you to meet him at a certain spot and that you’re ’going shopping’ for something. But lol no he’s proposing

Except of course something goes terribly wrong and Kabru is left a stressed out mess and wants to redo the whole thing. But tough luck buddy, you’ve already accepted. He sighs and furrows his brows and smiles, giving you that look that tells the world just how he feels. It’s soft and adoring and so in love.

Kabru is involved in the wedding planning for every step of the way. He’s almost a bit controlling with it.

He knows so many people that the guest list quickly reaches the hundreds.

Eventually Kabru gives up and you two plan to have something small and private instead. Which is a relief, because with something private he won’t feel the need to mask himself the entire time, to play the part.

He’s so! Excited! To see you in your wedding clothes!

He’s actually a bit gushy about it. Like he’s trying to hide his excitement. He puts his hand over his mouth to hide his smile, but his eyes are wide and he’s all riled up.

At the reception you honestly just sit in the corner together and whisper all night. For once he doesn’t intend on using this opportunity to gain information or insight.

Onto home life! Maybe for a tiny bit, you two live in his little room? Just until you get a house.

His landlord teases constantly.

Once you do get a place to stay, he actually doesn’t care about decorating all that much. He’s got stuff though, books and notebooks and random things he’s gathered over the years.

Kabru is a mess. He isn’t gross, but he’s unorganized and kinda just tosses his clothes on the floor. He leaves drawers open, and cabinets open.

He sleeps spread out, limbs everywhere. He drools sometimes. He makes you promise to not tell anyone that ever.

Kabru doesn’t cook. He’ll attempt it for you, though. He’ll try a lot of new things for you. He tries to eat more, to sleep more, and actually take care of himself. He knows you’d like that.

Kabru is pretty social. He keeps you up to date on every little endeavor he has going on. You have a routine of going to this restaurant or tavern frequently and he’ll lean in close to you and whisper about the people.

That guy over there? He’s got some information on this. Kabru’s going to buy him a drink.

This isn’t as effective as it was before Melini became a nation, though, when he was just an adventurer on the island. Because now Kabru is the King’s advisor and people are a little intimidated by him.

This frustrates him. When you get home and sit on the couch, he’ll lay his head in your lap or wrap his arms around your waist and complain. He likes being the advisor, but he doesn’t like how people think he’s intimidating and royal or important.

You visit Kabru at the castle often! Hell, maybe you even live in the castle with him! Idk how that works.

He has a lot of stuffy meetings with diplomats and important people, and you’ll often be on his arm. Galas, parties, dinners. It’s kind of exhausting. But Kabru loves every minute of it. He’s got you next to him, and he’s got the Kahka Brud diplomat tipsy enough to openly discuss the Queen’s affair with a servant. It’s so great.

You also share a lot of knowing looks with Kabru. When Laois does something Laois-y, you just look at each other.

Kabru isn’t much for PDA, he cares about who’s watching and what they think. He’s actually a little paranoid that people might find a way to use you against him. So he’s constantly planting these little ideas in people’s heads, about what might happen if anyone messed with you… It’s more subtle than I’m able to exemplify but you get the point.

Your husband has a room dedicated to his thoughts. His sherlock holmes mind palace.

It’s actually just a dark room where he puts pictures of people on the walls and connects them all with red yarn. You walk in with a lamp and he just flinches and squints at the light. Little freak.

He will talk your ear off, explaining each and every thought he has in his little web. Actually, doing that helps him sort things out and come to realizations!

He likes sitting on the floor with you in his lap, his arms around your waist. Idk he’s just the kind of guy to sit on the floor and stare at the wall in deep thought.

Kabru doesn’t really get mad at you. He gets very concerned if you do something reckless and might look a bit frustrated on the outside, but he generally keeps his cool and speaks respectfully.

He can be a bit snarky though.

Different from most couples, you don’t terrorize each other that much. You might terrorize him, but he doesn’t do that. Kabru doesn’t do pranks or cute little revenge things. Kabru’s idea of terrorizing someone is slowly gaslighting them into insanity over the years. He won’t do that to you, obviously.

He never takes his ring off! He’s hurt if you take yours off.

He dances a lot with you when you’re alone. He’ll come up behind you and wrap his arms around your waist and sway a little. He’ll grab your hand and your hip and spin you around the kitchen. There’s no music, he doesn’t need it. He just wants to see you laugh.

If you make horrible crappy food he’ll still eat it. He hesitates to tell you it’s bad. It’s only when you insist on his opinion that he’ll admit it’s shit. (But he does so nicely)

Wear his clothes. Please. Please wear his clothes, it drives him crazy. You’ll be the death of him.

Y’all are weird, you match each others freaks. He adores your quirks and hobbies and is genuinely interested in learning about everything.

Seriously. He wants to know everything. Every thought that passes through your pretty head, every inch of you, every beat of your heart. He explores your body a lot. He worships you.

Kabru never thought he’d get married, actually. Not that he was opposed to the idea, he just wasn’t considering it until he met you. He’s extremely loyal, though, and you’re stuck with him forever. He reminds you of that often.

He keeps a mental list of people who have flirted with you or checked you out. He has his eye on them.

Kabru likes being the little spoon!

He likes bathing with you, washing your hair. It’s just intimate for him.

Your evenings are spent talking about everything and nothing. And he’s not digging for info, he’s just enjoying himself.

He likes to watch you sleep sometimes. Don’t ask why, just let him do his thing.

Milsiril visits often. She’s a relatively chill mother in law, if not a bit clingy. But she won’t just cling to Kabru, she’ll cling to you too (after you prove your worth)

Milsiril unfortunately shows up without warning sometimes, and her timing is horrible. It’s usually when you and Kabru are kissing and your hands are everywhere and you’re being gently laid on the bed and—

Oh there’s elf mom.

He gets embarrassed with her. She tells a lot of stories she thinks are cute. Kabru does not think they’re cute.

Once she leaves there’s a huge sigh of relief.

Kabru speaks other languages to you sometimes, but he refuses to tell you what he’s said.

Life with Kabru is interesting! You’re always busy. You’ve always got something going on. But it’s those moments when you’re in bed together, when your limbs are tangled in the dark, that he treasures the most.

#yay! #asks #dungeon meshi #mithrun #delicious in dungeon #mithrun of the house of kerensil #dunmeshi #mithrun x reader #dungeon meshi headcanons #kabru x reader #kabru #kabru of utaya #dungeon meshi imagines #dungeon meshi x reader #reader insert #x reader #my writing

[nicolinocolino]

@wolfstarmicrofic | May prompt #22: locked in a room | word count: 806

“You look silly like that.”

Sirius, with James’s invisibility cloak pulled up to his neck, was just a floating head bobbing next to Remus, following him around like a puppy on his prefect rounds.

Sirius winked and pinched Remus’s cheek. “Well, I’m out past curfew. Wouldn’t want to be caught.”

Remus blushed. Potent satisfaction swelled in Sirius’s chest.

Yet with only a week left until the end of their sixth year, he was tired of playing this game. Remus was never going to make the first move, which left the life altering decision on whether their friendship could survive love — requited or not, forever or not — up to Sirius.

“Stupid,” Remus mumbled, smiling.

Sirius pulled the cloak over his head and completely disappeared.

“Sirius. Stop it.”

Sirius giggled.

Remus stretched his arms out, trying to snatch the cloak. “Sirius, c’mon, where are you? You know what, whatever.”

Still hidden and following several long paces behind, Sirius let Remus walk all the way up to the seventh floor. “Moooooony,” he’d call every few minutes in a hollow voice, like a ghost. “Oh Moooooony.”

“Fuck oooooffffff,” Remus would sing back.

He acted annoyed, but Sirius saw the smile on Remus’s face. It was starting to feel dangerous being alone with him. Many a daydream involved this very scenario, with Sirius pulling Remus under the cloak, unseen, kissing him hot and fast until they were out of breath.

Sirius contemplated. His own thoughts made his face warm and zipped an energy through him he didn’t know what to do with, so he took off running. He didn’t try to hide the sound his pounding footsteps made.

“Sirius? AAHHHHG!”

Sirius tackled Remus around the middle, cloak slipping off his shoulder, knocking the wind out of them both. “Gotcha, Moons!”

Remus grabbed his shoulder and tried to pry him off. To Sirius’s surprise, he also pulled out his wand.

Sirius cackled. “Gonna hex me, Moony?”

“Thinking about it,” Remus exhaled, but pocketed it quickly. “You drive me nuts.”

“Tell me about it.” No, really, please tell me about it.

Arms still wrapped around Remus’s middle, their faces a breath away, Sirius could feel his heart beat incessantly in his temples, his longing almost giving him a headache. It would be so easy to kiss him right now.

“That’s odd.” Remus pulled away and Sirius let him.

“What?”

“The room of requirement just appeared.”

An intricately carved door, which was not there a moment ago, had nestled its way between two sleeping portraits.

Remus pulled the map from his pocket. Studying it, his eyebrows pinched together. “No one is around,” he said, looking up again and peeking down both ends of the hall. He turned back to Sirius. “Did you need something?”

“No,” Sirius lied. He was very certain he knew why the door had appeared.

“I wonder what’s inside…” Remus trailed.

Sirius very pointedly did not indulge him.

“Don’t you wonder?” Remus asked him, his annoyance turning playful. “Let’s go inside.” Remus held the door open for Sirius, and they both stepped across the threshold.

It was simply a broom closet. Cramped, dark, dusty.

“Well, this is stupid,” Remus mumbled. “Perhaps someone’s jinxed it?”

Sirius doubted it. “Maybe.”

“Let’s go then.” Remus reached for the door, but it was gone, as if it had never been there at all. He palmed the wall in a panic.

Sirius groaned and tipped his head back.

“It’s gone,” Remus breathed. “The door is gone.”

“It will come back,” Sirius calmed him.

“It’s jinxed,” Remus said to himself. “It’s a prank. Oh Merlin, is this what James was trying to tell us he was working on? I’m going to —“

“Moony. Moony.” Sirius grabbed Remus’s chin to turn his face towards him. They both stopped breathing. “It’s not jinxed.”

“How do you know?”

“Because I summoned the room,” Sirius grimaced. “On accident, but I think I did. And now it won’t let us out until I get what I asked it for.”

Remus’s eyes bounced across Sirius’s face. His stare lingered on his lips. “What did you ask it for?”

Sirius’s heart ambled up his throat until he was choking on its pulse. His grip, still on Remus’s chin, slid up to cradle his face. Sirius smoothed his thumb across Remus’s cheek, who leaned the weight of his head into Sirius’s hold. Fuck, why was this so easy and yet so hard?

“The courage to do this,” Sirius whispered, guiding Remus down to kiss him. Soft, slow, scared. When their lips met, his stomach flipped and his knees might’ve buckled.

Sirius felt Remus sigh in relief across his cheek. He threw his arms around his shoulders and felt himself be tugged in by the middle.

When they broke apart, amazed and grinning and on the verge of disbelieving laughter, the door was back.

#I’m rusty but this is funnnn #sirius black #remus lupin #remus x sirius #wolfstar #the marauders #marauders #marauders fic #wolfstar fic #wolfstar microfic #*

[arliedraws]

I read many fics where the marauders where the main characters: either Harry and Co traveled back in time or it was from James', Sirius', Remus' or Lily's perspective and in most of them Sirius is either unemployed and just focusing on the war efforts or he's training with James to be an auror. But I also read few focs where Sirius decided to become a healer, both because he wanted to help Remus with his illness and because he wanted to make up for what he did to his friend.

What do you think he did during the war? Which one of the options sounds the most like Sirius?

Hmm, make up for what? I’m not sure I know what you mean by that.

Canonically, I think that Sirius was living off his uncle’s gold and doing stuff full time for the Order. I think he was really wrapped up in the war, frankly.

If Sirius were to have a job at this time, I think it would have been a Muggle one. Working in an auto shop, a pub, something with animals, etc—or potentially something where he could work sporadically, maybe, and no one would consider it weird. Maybe working in a Muggle factory job, idk.

As a person in his early 30s, however, I think he could have done a number of things. Magizoologist, Cursebreaker, Unspeakable—if there was nothing keeping him in the UK, he probably would have traveled for work, imo. I also think he could have been an Auror but I believe he would have hated it and left eventually. I could see him as a Healer, but I really see him as a pediatrician if that were the case.

Alternatively, I could also see him falling unwillingly into fame. Like maybe he becomes a wizarding musician and accidentally gets really popular and he HATES it. But he likes making music and then just tries to hide as much as possible and once in a while releases a single that makes everyone lose their minds and then simply disappears for a few years.

#sirius black #asks #hp meta

[femalefemur]

1. Captains and Cabins.

warnings: mentions of child abuse, mentions of child death, mentions of murder, mentions of dead bodies, mentions of skeletons, mentions of desecrating graves, mentions of piss, please let me know if I missed anything!

word count: 1.2k

synopsis: Kyle, Simon, Johnny and you have volunteered at a summer camp, you've arrived a week early to help with preparations, what could go wrong?

A/N: I am aware that summer camps are not a thing in the UK, I'm also not American so I have no idea if this is accurate, summer camps are also not a thing where I live but camping with other groups are.

“There’s a legend that the camp is haunted, they say that the guy who originally owned this place went crazy and killed all the counsellors one night while they were asleep. Snapped, just like that” Johnny snapped his fingers to emphasise his point as he spoke, a grin spread across his handsome face. 

“Shut up, he did not, that’s just a story kids tell to scare each other” Kyle rolled his eyes as he carried a box into the hall and placed it down with the others. 

“He did too! How else do you explain them all disappearing?” Johnny frowned as he crossed his arms and pouted at the taller man. 

“They probably just got lost in the woods, probably went for a hike and didn’t stay on the path or something. These woods are huge so it’s pretty easy to get lost in them even now, imagine back then when they only had paper maps” Kyle rolled his eyes as he mirrored Johnny’s stance. 

“Whatever,” Johnny rolled his eyes back and turned his attention back to you “don’t listen to him bonnie, the guy definitely went crazy.” “Sure,” you laughed as you looked at them both “I have to say Kyle’s story sounds more plausible than a guy suddenly went crazy and killed everyone” you shrugged as you left the hall to bring in another box, the two men trailing behind you and bickering about what really happened.

The Camp that they were arguing about was the very camp that you were currently at, Camp 141. You had been hired as a camp counsellor for the summer along with your three best friends, Kyle, Johnny and Simon. The three of you were inseparable since you had met in high school and that friendship had carried over into your adult years. 

The four of you had been through it all, helped Simon leave his abusive home, been there for him when his family died, held his hands at the cemetery as he cried at his mother and brother’s grave. You had all watched him piss on his piece of shit father’s grave that very night, hell you’d even helped him smash the headstone and every one after that until they finally stopped replacing it. You’d all been there when Johnny’s family kicked him out for coming out as bisexual, taking him into your homes with open arms, just as you’d all taken Simon in. Been there when Kyle started feeling the pressure of getting into a good university. You’d reminded him to sleep and eat, dragged his fingers away from his mouth when he’d started to bite his nails down to the quick from the stress of it all.

You’d all moved in together into a flat half-way between Oxford and London when you had all finally graduated high school, free to finally escape your small town and leave behind the bad memories. Kyle’s rigorous studying had paid off and he’d been accepted into Oxford University, and Simon, Johnny and you had been accepted into various universities across London. None of you minded the commute as long as it meant you could stay together, your little found family. That all led to the present, you had all graduated university a good few years ago, settled into your jobs and moved together into an infinitely better flat, now that you all had a much better and stable income. 

It was Simon’s idea to volunteer as camp counsellors for the summer, he’d said it would be good for you all to get away from the city for a bit and be close to nature. Though you suspected that he wanted to do something for the children, the camp was for children aged thirteen to fourteen which placed them around the age that Simon’s brother was when he passed. After the three of you had sat around the dining table and looked at every inch of the brochure you’d all happily agreed, not that any of you needed convincing, not with the way Simon’s face had lit up when he talked about the camp. So you’d all taken time off and found yourselves packing into Johnny’s 4WD for the long trip up north to the camp, arriving a week before it was set to open to the children to help set up. 

The camp director hadn’t been there when you’d all arrived, but he had left a note explaining that he’d had to make a trip into town for some last minute hardware supplies. He had also left instructions to bring in the boxes from the storage shed and into the main hall, along with where your counsellors' cabins were and told you to make yourselves at home. You’d all worked tirelessly for the whole afternoon, bringing the boxes in and unpacking the various supplies and activities from them, the thought of children happily following along with the activities making you smile. Your childhoods may not have been the best but you sure as hell could make these children’s childhoods a good one, even if it was only for a couple of weeks. 

“Where do you think the director is?” You had sat down outside on the steps up to the main hall, a cold bottle of water in your hands as you relaxed. 

“Who knows, should have definitely been back by now” Simon frowned as he glanced at the setting sun on the horizon, shades of pink and orange painting the sky as he leaned back on his arms and tapped his boot against yours, a silent “I love you.”

The director still hadn’t returned by nightfall and you’d all made yourselves right at home, settling into the cabin before exploring the kitchen and making dinner. You’d finally settled in for the night, showered away the grime and sweat of the day before slipping into a comfortable pair of cotton sleep shorts and an oversized t-shirt you’d stolen from Kyle. It had already been oversized on him and on you it was even larger, it also somehow still smelled of him no matter how many times it got washed, the warm scent of musk, honey and oud clinging to the fibres of the fabric. 

“You know they say he used to be a SAS Captain” Johnny spoke as he lay on his bunk bed and scrolled on his phone before Kyle smacked it out of his hand and onto his face.

“Stop talking about that, we really don’t need to hear about a murderous camp director right before we go to bed at said camp” Kyle scowled as he was hit in the face with Johnny’s pillow. 

“Someone scared?” Johnny teased him as he grinned and wiggled his eyebrows. “He’s right, it’s just unsettling to hear about it right before bed” You huffed as you watched the two play wrestle and laugh, snuggling in further under the covers while Simon joined in on the wrestling. 

“Am just saying that he could have snapped, probably saw a lot of shit as a Captain, and it could have gotten to him” Johnny shrugged as the three of them lay sprawled out after the wrestling. “Probably knew how to kill them quietly and hide the bodies too” he kept speaking, “maybe they’re buried under the floorboard” Johnny laughed as your pillow hit his face.

“Please shut up, I don’t need to think about sleeping on top of literal dead bodies” You frowned at him as you picked your pillow up and tucked it back under your head, closing your eyes in hopes that you would fall asleep soon and not dream of skeletons or murderers. Failing to notice the shadow that passed by the window behind the men.

#task force 141 #taskforce 141 #x reader #task force x reader #cod #call of duty #cod x reader #call of duty x reader #gaz #ghost #soap #kyle garrick #simon riley #johnny mactavish #tw piss #kyle gaz garrick #simon ghost riley #johnny soap mactavish #tw child abuse #tw murder #tw child death

[tgmsunmontue]

Where do I know you from? 10/10

Hangster crackfic (that kind of turned serious and then hurt-comfort). There are too many Jakes and Bradleys for Jake and Bradley to be dealing with. Or the Universe is just as fed up with them being blind.

PART ONE PART TWO PART THREE PART FOUR PART FIVE PART SIX PART SEVEN PART EIGHT PART NINE

PART TEN

                “Well, that made for a more dramatic exit than they needed,” Six grumbles, but he’s already cleaning up the broken teacup. Maverick is definitely crying, his grip on Rooster white knuckled, but Penny has stepped in close, and Rooster is handing him off, his own eyes red. Jake turns away sharply, doesn’t want to be caught watching such a vulnerable moment, even if a version of himself was at the center of it all. Not that he’s there anymore and he wonders what made him disappear. He’ll ask, if the opportunity arises.

                There are only four other pairs of Rooster-Jakes now, Three, Five, Six and Eight. It’s far more manageable to keep track of, and he’s kind of missed what has happened with everything that’s been going on. He can ask some of the others later, because he can see Halo and Phoenix gathering their things, all the female versions of himself and Rooster have also apparently gone and the idea that there are female versions of himself is still unsettling.

                “We’re heading out. You want a ride?”

                “No, I’ll be okay. Thanks though. Javy’s here.”

                “This has been… educational. Good luck with the ones that are left…” Phoenix says, eyes quickly darting around the Hard Deck before settling back with Jake. She slaps his arm and then walks away and he shrugs, looks between Jakes Three and Five and Jake suddenly misses Thirteen, despite not even knowing him very long. He rubs at his face, because he’s trying to be more honest with himself. He wants a Rooster that would be like Thirteen. With him. He’s not going to get it, so he shoves the want down and does his best to ignore it, walks over to Roosters Three and Five, who are both still working on their spreadsheet.

                “You planning on leaving your spreadsheet?” Jake asks, and he’s only half teasing, because now that he’s feeling less overwhelmed he’s interested in taking a look.

                “I took photos of it. And made Jake take photos. And then we emailed the photos to a couple of different addresses. Plus I took some photos of other stuff earlier,” Five says, hitting the palm of his hand with his phone.

                “Did you do that too?” Jake asks Three, because he feels like it’s something he’d do.

                “Uh, no. I don’t have a phone with me,” Three says, and he’s shooting his Jake a quick look, like he’s worried he’s about to get an earful.

                “Did you lose it or just forget it?” Jake Three asks, looking resigned and also softly amused and Jake shoves the wanting down further.

                “Pretty sure I just forgot it and it’s at home.”

                “Because being transported to an alternate universe is an acceptable reason to lose your phone,” Three’s Jake says dryly, and Three grins widely, then he’s leaning forward and pecking a kiss against Jake Three’s lips and then they’re gone. Just like that. Five blinks and looks at Jake.

                “I don’t think he remembered that would happen when they kissed…”

                “They’re back where they belong,” Jake says, and Five looks a little bereft, like he’s maybe lost a friend, and he guesses him and Three did pretty much solidly stick together the whole time they were here. It’s only been a couple of hours though.

                “So, we don’t know what’s going to happen when we’ve all gone back to where we’re meant to be. Whether you’ll forget this ever happened, or it’ll become a hazy memory, or remain something weird and crystal clear. It’s not like we have any experience to call on, and the ones who have maybe had the closest have already gone back…” Bob says and Jake blinks at him and does a little double take.

                “You… know about this type of stuff?”

                “I like sci-fi,” Bob states, and both Rooster Eight and his Jake are grabbing Bob in a hug, telling him how he’s just as great in their universe, before turning to Jake.

                “We’re going to head out. Home? Away? We’re going to go,” Eight says, and his Jake is nodding, but not before he grabs Jake in a tight hug, words whispered in his ear he’s a stubborn shit but he wants to be taken care of just as much as you do. He pulls back and nods once, sharply and Jake finds himself nodding back. That message, coupled with Thirteen telling him to be patient is making him think that maybe he just needs to dig his heels in and out-stubborn Rooster. He has always enjoyed beating him at things.

                Then Rooster Eight and another version of himself are kissing; it’s not a soft peck like Three exchanged, but a tongue filled exchange with hands on faces and then they’re gone and Jake is left with Five and his Jake, the spreadsheet clutched in his hand. Six is at the bar talking to his Jake, along with Maverick and Penny. Rooster, his Rooster, is walking toward him, looking hesitant for some reason and Jake quirks an eyebrow and tries to smile, although feels it probably looks pained. He moves away from the others, wants to have the chance to talk to Rooster without anyone else listening in.

                “Hey… how does it feel to be the center of a tear between alternate universes?”

                “Really fucking weird. You seem to be taking this whole thing better than me. Looking out for everyone and making the best of this…”

                Jake shakes his head, because this isn’t normal by any stretch of the imagination, and he can’t imagine making light of any of this, not now.

                “Just doing my level best. I’m… sorry about the photos. I didn’t think he’d be able to show you photos.”

                “No, don’t apologize,” Rooster says, shaking his head. “It’s okay. It was… weird. But good. They’re my parents, but they’re not my parents you know? But seeing them in those photos? Older and happy? It’s nice to have that image at least, not just my imagination of what they might look like.”

                “Yeah…” Jake says, thinking of the photo he saw of Laura. “I know what you mean.”

                “That Hangman, the one that was here by himself…”

                Jake swallows roughly and nods, realizes he might not even have to ask, that Rooster might just offer up what he might have said to him. The other version of him.

                “He… he’ll be okay. I told him that I didn’t want him to waste the life he had simply because mine had been cut short in his universe. That as annoying as he is I wouldn’t have wanted him to drown himself in guilt or stop living. That the mission had already taken two lives and it didn’t need to take a third one.”

                “Jesus Rooster.”

                “Then I kissed him and he… said thank you and then kind of… melted away.”

                Jake sucks in a breath, throat tight as his eyes prickle as he thinks about what could have been and he’s reaching for Rooster and just wrapping his arms around him into a tight hug, fingers curling tightly into the fabric of his hoodie.

                “Losing you was not an option. Not for me.”

                “You think it was for him?”

                “No. Not at all. He’s unlucky. All it would have taken was a buckle not already done up and I would have been too late as well. I didn’t need to see dozens of different versions of you to know that I’m lucky to have you alive.”

                “Oh…”

                He pulls back from the hug, not surprised to feel Rooster already withdrawing.

                “Leave them alone you idiot! They’re finally talking!”

                “It feels rude to just leave without saying goodbye!”

                “If anyone is going to understand, it’ll be alternate versions of ourselves.”

                He glances over his shoulder and Six and Jake-Six are standing there awkwardly, clearly wanting to go and Jake steps up and grabs his counterpart in a tight hug, glad when he’s hugged back just as tightly.

                “Don’t forget to tell her.”

                “I won’t, not matter how unhinged it’ll make me sound.”

                “Not out of the ordinary for you then,” Jake says to himself, because his sisters give him shit and this Jake has those same sisters. His answering grin is warm, then he’s offering his fist for a fist bump and Jake knocks against it. Watches as they kiss and turns to find Five watching it all, his arms around his Jake, chin almost resting on top of his Jake’s head he’s just that fucking tall. His expression is a little sad and Jake realizes that they’re the last ones left.

                “This whole experience has been fascinating. No idea what caused it but I look forward to reading into potential theories when I get home…” Five says, and then he’s hugging Jake, and he tucks himself under Five’s chin, just to see what it would feel like. When he glances at Jake Five he seems to know what he’s thinking and is looking smug. Ass.

                “Lead good lives. We wish you all the best…”

                He doesn’t have time to say anything before Five is ducking his head down to kiss his Jake firmly and then they’re gone as well. He’s the only Jake left, and Rooster is still there, also looking a little rattled and he knows the universe is trying to tell him something, and if not the universe then all the other versions of himself have told him. He has to try again.

                “Do you think the universe is trying to tell us something?”

                “I think multiple universes are trying to tell us something…” Rooster says, his body tense and Jake blows out a long breath.

                “On the carrier, right after the mission… What did you think I wanted?” The look on Rooster’s face is incredulous, like he can’t believe Jake is dumb enough to be asking such an obvious question. “Humor me. What do you think I wanted?”

                “Sex.”

                Jake winces, because he can appreciate why Rooster might have thought that. His relief and joy that he’d saved him had been overwhelming, forcing him into uncharacteristic actions and kissing Rooster in the sickbay of all places. He hadn’t exactly stopped to talk. He shakes his head, looks away, can tell Rooster is studying him but doesn’t want to meet his eyes, feels far too raw after everything that has happened in the last couple of hours. Then Rooster is speaking.

                “I was high on pain meds, concussed, thought my godfather had died, accepted that I was going to die over and over and then lived through it every single fucking time… I wasn’t ready to get on another rollercoaster ride, especially if it was only going to be over in a matter of minutes.”

                “Wasn’t just sex…” Jake says, voice quiet. “Isn’t just sex. What about now? You want to take that rollercoaster ride?”

                “Depends. Am I getting on it alone?”

                “You were never getting on it alone.”

                “Oh.”

                Jake looks then, Rooster is watching him, eyes hopeful and he wonders if seeing all these versions of themselves coupled-up is making Rooster more open to considering and accepting Jake at face value. There might not need to be any need to dig his heels in and needing to out-stubborn him at all. Rooster is stepping into his space and kissing him and Jake revels in it. The scrape of his moustache, his hands on Jake’s waist tugging him closer, tongue licking into Jake’s mouth and he presses back. Lets his own hands go, one reaching for Rooster’s curls, running through his hair and then just cradling the back of his head, other hand curving around the swell of an ass cheek. Then there’s a cough and he pulls back an incremental amount to see Bob and Maverick looking at them but also looking uncomfortable.

                “You two are actually going to need to drive home. No magical transportation for you, you’re already in the right universes. Just… this isn’t the place.”

                “Come home with me?” Rooster asks, and Jake nods, finally feels like he’s in the right place.

#Hangster #Sereshaw #Top Gun Maverick fanfic #where do I know you from?

[ssailormoonn]

❛ Crimson ❜ ── 001

Phantom Troupe X Fem!Reader

| 000 | 001 | 002 -coming soon |

Chapters ✦ 2/??

a/note:: this chapter is quite short as the next chapter will be really long and getting into juicy stuff, next chapter will be over 2000-3000 words guys dw 😭 i was going to write smut in this chapter but i didn't that that you all wouldve been somfortable with smut straight up.... remember that {y/n} already has a some what established relationship with the love interests

TW/CW; check 'crimson' desc

The waves had swallowed me whole, casting me ashore on unfamiliar territory. I knew I was far from the Dark Continent, a realization that sank in as I stretched my arms above my head, the salty sea breeze tousling my hair. Those fools on the ship had no idea where they were heading. Now, the Dark Continent was too far to swim back to, leaving me stranded and uncertain about how to return.

I need to eat something, maybe they have better specimen on this land instead.

"{Y/n}," Shizuku's voice called out, snapping me back to reality.

I turned to see Shizuku, Machi, and Phinks approaching.

"Yes?" I responded, curious about their intentions.

"We're heading into the city for some food. Want to join us?" Shizuku offered.

Despite my hunger, I shook my head. "As tempting as that sounds, I'll eat out later. Thanks, love," I said with a reassuring smile.

Shizuku sighed, a note of disappointment in her voice. "Alright. We'll see you later then."

The three of them left the abandoned building, their footsteps echoing in the empty space. Just as they disappeared from view, Chrollo's voice broke the silence.

"When was the last time you ate, dear?" he asked, not lifting his gaze from the book he was engrossed in.

"Last week," I admitted, standing up. "The Hunter Association has made it difficult for me to find a meal. Not only did they seal me, but they're also restricting how much I can consume now."

"That's unacceptable," he murmured, closing his book with a decisive snap. "It's in your nature to consume beings. They can't control that."

"I know," I said quietly, frustration evident in my voice. "If only they hadn't found me in the first place, none of this would be happening."

"It isn't your fault," Chrollo reassured me. "You are a threat to them, yes. But if it comes to that again, you don't have to go out looking for someone. I am here to meet your needs."

His words carried a deeper implication. He was offering himself again, as he had before. Chrollo had always been willing to let me feed on him when necessary. The last time it happened, he had reveled in the experience, too much for my comfort.

It didn't feel that good, right?

I met his gaze, the memory of that encounter fresh in my mind. "I appreciate your offer, Chrollo," I replied, my voice steady. "But we both know it's not ideal."

"I'll do whatever I can to ensure you're comfortable," Chrollo said, moving behind me and placing his hands on my shoulders. I felt his touch melt away some of the tension. His breath was warm against my ear as he lowered his head to my height. "I'm sure you enjoy taking from me," he murmured.

The memory of our last encounter flashed in my mind. Feeding from Chrollo had escalated into something far more intimate, our shared hunger turning into a passionate exchange. It had nearly gone further if Hisoka hadn't abruptly interrupted us.

"But enough about that," Chrollo continued, his voice a soothing hum. His hands remained on my shoulders, and I stayed rigid under his dominating touch. "I have a new task for you."

I stiffened slightly, anticipating his next words. "Look after Hisoka for me again this year."

I exhaled, annoyance creeping into my voice. "I have to go again?" He was referring to the Hunter Exam. Last year, I had to keep Hisoka in check and ensure he got his license. However, Hisoka had killed an examiner and failed.

"He's like a child," I muttered. "So hard to manage."

"I know," Chrollo hummed, his lips brushing against my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. "But you'll do it for me, won't you?"

I hesitated, feeling the weight of his request. Hisoka was unpredictable, dangerous, and a constant challenge. Yet, Chrollo's proximity, his touch, and his unwavering confidence in me made it difficult to refuse.

"For you," I whispered, turning my head slightly to meet his gaze. "I'll do it."

Chrollo's eyes glinted with approval, and he squeezed my shoulders gently, his touch sending a shiver down my spine. "That's my {Y/n}," he said softly, his lips brushing against the sensitive skin below my ear, trailing along the curve of my jawline.

He's making this so hard for me to say no to his requests.

do not steal, copy or modify and of my work, ONLY REBLOGS!

❛ Crimson ❜

tell me in the comments or dm if you want to be added to the taglist:3

taglist; @nobunagahazamaworlddomination @yashiro2809 @honeypiedoll @bubblebum-b1tch-blog @simpforramenboy @sxyriii

#·:*¨༺ ♱CRIMSON♱ ༻¨*:· #Chrollo x reader #hxh x reader #phantom troupe x reader #illumi x reader #feitan x reader #hisoka x reader

[timidxtempted]

It's a fact of online life that sometimes people disappear. They post their last meme, or write their closing entry, or reblog their final post.

You won't know that's the last one.

They might not even know.

But at some point in the future, you will realize that you haven't seen them in a bit. You'll wonder. A little more time might pass.

You will worry.

You will reach out.

You may never, ever hear back.

You will be left wondering, hoping that they are living their best life, irl. You will wish them well in your heart, and hope that someday, you will cross paths again.

Sometimes, you will - against the odds - get a response. Not from your friend, but from someone kind enough to let you know that your friend is gone.

The permanent kind of gone.

And in your heart, you will wish them peace and hope that somehow they knew that they were an impactful, important part of your world.

And you will, once more, resolve to tell the people you care about that they are loved... Because you just never know when the last post is the last post.

.

To few the people here that I interact with: please know how much you mean to me. Your presence in my life is a joy, and I am grateful for you.

To the very few whom I call friends: never doubt for one second you are loved. No matter where you are on the planet, you're also in my heart - which is fuller because you exist.

You get what anyone gets. You get a lifetime." - Neil Gaiman

#i'ma miss you valentine 🖤 #hugz n tisses bish

[sonkitty]

Crowley S2 Hair Post #51

(For reference: The Sideburns Scheme)

Crowley, Good Omens 2, Episode 3, I Know Where I'm Going, threshold

...

Sideburns Check

The sideburns are still long.

In fact, I think they are still longest-length even though Crowley has crossed the bookshop threshold. There are plenty of humans around but another known supernatural presence with Shax being another demon, besides Crowley himself.

The idea behind the forming connection in my theory is that Crowley's sideburns stay longer due to an expanding border around the bookshop. He'll have to go for a drive to shorten the sideburns when Aziraphale returns.

...

Brighter Red Streak Check

The more saturated red streak of hair can be found, but it possibly disappears or is a lot harder to find when Crowley's moving more and showing stronger emotions. Sometimes it even looks duplicated or shifted to the right front part of his hair.

...

Hairstyle Changes

The hairstyle changes during the scene because tendrils form and spread when Crowley's more frantic with Shax moving around using different bodies.

Then it smooths over. The front hair swoops in and out in the center when Crowley's telling Shax to get out of the way. Once inside the bookshop but still holding the door open, the hair looks darker. The front starts to tilt to Crowley's right, something that tends to happen when Crowley is closer to Gabriel. By that point, Gabriel is on screen in the background for some cuts. The hair looks even darker once Crowley's closer to Shax and preparing to close the door.

When thinking and comparing all of this movement with the preceding scene, the front hair is not as defined in being centered at the front.

...

Earthly Objects

(For reference: Earthly Objects)

Crowley starts with two questions, "Shax? Where are you?" Conceivably, he earns a touch with a raised platform in front of the door to the bookshop since he goes through the trouble of making sure his left foot is partly over the edge of such a thing.

After that, the earthly objects touched by both demons are actually the humans, and in Shax's case, maybe whatever that human is touching or holding. Otherwise, dialogue points are mostly names and questions.

When Crowley has the door open, Gabriel has a "Hello" with "Hello, customer!" Shax follows that up with a question to Crowley that includes the number "two".

Gabriel has background touches with books since he keeps dropping them to test gravity.

...

For paying attention to the pockets...

The Tied Hands probably retie. Because this game loves to mess with an audience player, the touch with a clasp to a lapel edge happens as Crowley says, "I'm not playing these games."

Liar! He's lying! He's lying, Your Honor.

Admittedly, it is funny.

For this retying, these are the shots where it feels like Crowley's actual hands are up to something and meant to be noticed:

Crowley's left hand touches his jacket when he says the word, "happy" for instance. I don't know if that's just for the retying this time around or something more than that.

Both Shax and Crowley make repeated pockets with their arms.

Various human pocket users are around in the background.

While Gabriel ends up playing shoulder-angel to Crowley, Gabriel does also end up visually pocketed between the demons on screen.

...

Story Commentary

The camera starts viewing from a top angle and down, much like it did in episode 1, so maybe Saraqael or someone in Heaven is watching.

From memory and checking some transcripts, the word "threshold" is only verbally stated once in this story, and it is here.

That's our Clue with a capital "C" that thresholds are important in this story.

While that significance is understood with the demon invasion of episodes 5 and 6, the word use is still yet another clue regarding Crowley's sideburns and the 6 Threshold Tricks.

For whatever is happening with the expanding sideburns border, Crowley is implied, but not confirmed, to have at least one foot on the road and one on the sidewalk, maybe even the edge of the sidewalk. There's a human far behind him with such a position, presumably to be a clue for such a thing.

When Crowley has the door open and talks to Shax, the camera never confirms his actual touches to that door. There is a point where it looks like the lapel of his jacket might be touching it, but then following cuts show that there is a gap, as if to say it's an illusion or discredit and that the jacket is not actually touching the door. Crowley could be up to more than I know since he's such an expert with this type of thing in Earthly Objects.

Crowley's line about Shax maybe spotting an archangel is another clue that he himself might have been an archangel before his fall.

In the cut where Crowley says he's technically not capable of allowing Shax into the bookshop, I think she is reflected in his sunglasses. I've actually never noticed until drafting this post. The previous two similar reflections had a character holding an earthly object and showing it to Crowley. This one does not. I take that to mean the holding and showing an earthly object is not an actual requirement for Crowley to be able to see that character. He has selective sight. These reflections are clues about The Window Trick.

I bet Crowley could have invited Shax into the bookshop. Aziraphale will be able to do it with Crowley's car in the next episode.

...

That's it for this post. Sometimes I edit my posts, FYI.

...

Main post:

The Sideburns Scheme

#crowley #david tennant #good omens 2 #good omens #good omens season 2 #good omens s2 #good omens meta #good omens analysis #good omens crowley #crowley good omens #good omens clues #good omens theory #good omens theories

[thatoneocmaker]

My cousin (who is unfortunately a Swiftie) talks about how people hate Taylor because "they hate seeing a successful woman."

No, the reason why I hate her is because:

1. I'm getting sick of hearing her songs everywhere. It doesn't help that my cousin put on the Eras Tour on her TV.

2. Her usage of her private jet. Like girl, use a damn car, you'd be less wasteful that way.

3. The whole dating a racist thing (like seriously...)

4. Joe Alwyn. Like, she seriously left him because of his mental issues even though he was there for her mental issues??? Come on, I barely even know about that guy and even I think that's messed up.

and 5. Her album, "The Tortured Poets Department". More like the "Dear God it's an actual form of torture department". I read the lyrics, and holy shit it's bad. You'd think I'm kidding, but I'm not:

This is from "So Long, London", and this is about Joe Alwyn.

"Died on the altar waiting for proof", huh? You mean the fact that he stayed with you during your darkest days, but you decided to go off and have an affair with someone else for his? Like girl, be fucking for real. And this isn't even the only example of horrendous lyrics. "Tattooed golden retriever"? Really??? "Touch me while your bros play Grand Theft Auto"?? My God, even rappers with more explicit lyrics have a better understanding of songwriting.

Also, there's the whole "mental ward" aesthetic, but that's another story.

I'm hoping this lady disappears from the public scene. Like, I don't want her to die or anything, but I just want her to just...stop. Like, you have enough money, and it feels like you're just writing lyrics for the sake of rhyming them instead of trying to tell a coherent story or something.

You want an actual album that tells a good story? Try "IGOR" or "DAMN". Those are some good choices.

Sorry if this rant comes off as nonsensical, I'm just mad.

#anti taylor swift #worktoom speaks #I could never post this on my Instagram #too many ppl I know irl are Swifties #I'm in hell

[heliads]

seven devils all around me - connor lassiter x roland taggart

Connor Lassiter is stuck in the basement beneath an antique store. Roland Taggart is waiting for him.

masterlist

They take the Unwinds away one by one.

It makes it better, somehow. The waiting. Better and worse. Better, because this means they’ll each individually move faster than if everyone was removed from the cellar underneath Sonia’s antique shop in one great, easily distracted group. Better, because there’s a slimmer chance of everyone getting caught by vengeful Juvey-cops if there’s just one feral moving at a time than a group of a dozen dead kids walking.

Worse, because it means that the familiar faces are disappearing slowly but surely. The idea exists that they are being taken somewhere safe, but no one can be certain. All Connor Lassiter knows is that the few people in this world that he even halfway trusts are vanishing into the hands of khaki-uniformed strangers. Every few days, someone else goes up the trapdoor and  back into the light, and their numbers shrink down to dust, a not-quite friend group being wound down into a mere handful of uneasy souls.

At first, it didn’t trouble Connor all that much. He pictured it like a doctor’s waiting room:  no matter how long he waited, they’d all be seen eventually. A couple of the kids he barely knew were taken first, which didn’t matter, but then he got to know the rest better and their loss hurt more than when he didn’t remember their names, so. That’s what he gets for trying to make friends, apparently.

As their numbers seriously started to thin, though, Connor started getting shifty again. All of a sudden, there were four. Connor and Risa (the baby removed first, probably less out of moral obligation than the need to get the wailing infant out of that tiny space), joined at the hip ever since they crossed paths while running away. Also remaining in the darkness is Hayden in the back, trying out his sarcastic jokes on an ever-shrinking group of people, and, because the universe apparently cannot hate Connor enough, Roland.

Risa goes next. Connor expected to feel more unsettled by her disappearance after so much time spent watching each other’s backs, but instead the first uncharitable thought in his mind is that at least he won’t be glared at every time he says something wrong. He’s not a flawless human being, even if Risa seems to expect that he’ll be just as perfect as she is.

About half a week later, soldiers in khaki come back down the stairs. Connor waits to see which one of the three remaining unwinds they’ll bring out. It must be him or Roland. Connor’s more of a high profile figure at this point, but Roland’s been here longer, and if they’re trying to get the kids who’ve been waiting for greater intervals, they’ve got to take him out first. Maybe that’s just wishful thinking, though.

To Connor’s surprise, the guards instead point to Hayden and gruffly tell him to get a move on. The blond pumps a fist in mock celebration, then glances between Connor and Roland. “Try not to tear each other to pieces, will you? Leave that for the Juveys.”

With those words of wisdom, Hayden heads for the door, not inclined to loiter in the dark basement any more than he has to. Connor can’t blame him. If he had the chance to get out, he’d sprint up those stairs in a heartbeat.

The guards replenish some of the supplies in the basement, then leave at last, shutting the trapdoor behind them with an ominous thud. Connor is left with the chilling realization that Hayden was the last person who could possibly stand between him and Roland. Now that Hayden’s gone, nothing can stop Roland from finally acting on the hatred that’s been simmering between both of them from the second Connor got here.

Connor can’t believe they’d actually leave him here with Roland. When you have two guys who obviously hate each other’s guts, you don’t abandon them to each other. It reminds Connor of a riddle he heard when he was a kid– a chicken, some corn, and a fox stuck on one side of a river, a raft only big enough for two passengers, and a hapless farmer forced to figure out the order in which to ferry his passengers across so nothing gets eaten. Whoever’s playing the game with their lives has obviously fucked up this round, but unlike in a riddle, there are no second tries. Connor is left to get consumed by the fox eyeing him coldly from the other side of the basement.

Above him, the footsteps of the guards and Hayden bleed away, softened by antique rugs and then gone for good. Most days, Connor likes to pretend that he can hear trucks coming and going. It makes him believe that maybe there is a plan for all of them after they leave, that they won’t just be dumped somewhere alone again.

Today, though, he hates it. Hates them for leaving them here. Shouldn’t they know better? Even Hayden managed to figure that out in the span of a second. Any soldier with a week of experience should be able to tell that you don’t stick the two kids who hate each other the most in a dark basement with only the other for company. Already, Connor’s eyes are adjusting to the gloom again, but he doesn’t like the sight any better than he did on his first day.

“So,” a cold voice rings out across the semi-darkness. “They actually left us here alone. Didn’t think they’d do it.”

Connor scoffs, trying not to let any sign of apprehension slip through. “What, you got bored of my lively personality?”

“Humor doesn’t suit you, Connor,” Roland drawls. “Hayden got away with it because we liked him better than you. You can’t hide behind him any longer, though. It’s just us down here. Just you and me.”

“Charming,” Connor mumbles. “But it’ll be over in a few days. Then one of us will be alone. I hope it’s you.”

Something almost like sympathy twists at Connor’s gut as he says it. Even though he despises Roland, the thought of being alone down here in the dark and depressing basement is a fate he would kill to avoid. If he’s thinking that, though, Roland probably is too. And if Connor is willing to kill to not be the one left behind, Roland must be foaming at the mouth at the thought of it.

Roland chuckles. The sound issues across the basement until it coasts up to Connor, making the hair on his arms stand up with a rush. They’ve positioned themselves to be as far apart as possible, but their placement on opposite sides of the basement means that they’re constantly staring each other dead in the eyes. One blink, one glance away, and one of them could be on the other in a heartbeat. So they keep staring, and no one moves. There are no more bodies to keep between them. Just Connor, and Roland, and the awful distance between.

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? You’d love it if they left me here? Bet it would make you feel awfully safe if I was locked up all the time. You think you’re a big man, Connor, but you’re scared of me.”

Connor scoffs and looks away. There’s a little too much knowledge in Roland’s gaze, and it sharpens to a knifepoint between Connor’s brows. In his peripheral vision, Connor can see Roland shifting slightly, jutting his chin up. Proud. Correct. Despicable.

“I’m not scared of you. Guys like you are a dime a dozen. If I wanted a greasy thug, I’d go to a gas station.” Connor spits out.

Roland stands in one swift motion, like he’s been yanked up by an invisible hand. Connor’s head jerks back up, but he’s looked back too late– Roland is already moving. The pretense is gone. Whatever they do here, they’ve been building up to it since the first day.

At first, Roland just hovers on the balls of his feet, leaning casually against the wall behind him. The basement is not tall, and he has to bend slightly so his head doesn’t scrape the ceiling. This gives the impression that Roland is leaning towards him, close enough to reach. Close enough to snap his jaws shut around Connor’s throat.

“You are scared,” Roland breathes triumphantly. “You’re so obvious. Even if you left me here, you’d never stop being scared. You’d go all across the world and you’d never stop thinking about me. I’d be a bigger part of you than anything.”

Connor shakes his head. “You’re wrong. You’re nothing to me.”

“I don’t believe you,” Roland hisses, and he’s across the basement in a second. Connor doesn’t even see him move. He blinks and the other boy is standing right in front of him, the tips of his shoes nudging Connor in the sides. He has Connor bracketed just slightly, hardly touching him but making it obvious that Connor cannot move without Roland’s express permission.

“You can’t do that,” Connor says. He feels like a little boy, whining about someone stealing his toy. “You know the rules.”

Roland actually rolls his eyes. “There’s nobody down here, remember? They can’t see us.”

The rest goes unspoken. Nobody is here. Nobody would know. And nobody would tell. Certainly not Connor. That would mean admitting that he let one boy bother him to the point of telling, and even if they fight, Connor’s not a coward. He’s going to handle this himself.

He tries to stand, but Roland’s hand flashes out to grab him, pushing him down to the ground again by the shoulder.

“Get your hands off of me,” Connor spits.

“Make me,” Roland says, all teeth. He pinches Connor’s shoulder as he says it, further proof of what they both know by now to be true:  Roland does what he wants, when he wants. And Connor won’t do a thing to stop it.

“You’re crazy,” Connor says, leaning away from Roland. Maybe the guy will back off if Connor pretends he doesn’t care. “Did you get hit on the head recently? Be honest.”

“It’s sweet of you to ask,” Roland simpers. He sinks to one knee so he can get a better read of Connor’s disgust, and they’re practically breathing each other in now, barely a millimeter between them. “Of course, it’s not your job to worry. Not mine, either. It’s not my head anymore, is it? Belongs to the Juveys. Who knows who’ll get my brain? Maybe you might end up with a piece or two.” He knocks his fist against Connor’s temple, less like a punch, more like a tap against an unlocked door. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Not knowing who was flirting with your girl, me or you? Or maybe my brain’s too good for you. Maybe you’d get my arm instead.”

Connor tries not to let his disgust at the idea show, but he’s not entirely successful. His dislike must be obvious, because Roland flashes him a dark grin, the expression broad and all-consuming. “What, you don’t like the ink?”

“I’m not a big fan of dolphins,” Connor hisses back.

Irritated, Roland snaps his jaws, teeth crashing together just a hair’s breadth from the tip of Connor’s nose. He doesn’t flinch, thankfully, but his eyes track the movement nonetheless, which makes Roland’s victorious smile loom again as if he had moved after all. 

“See?” Roland says, smooth and slow. “Scared. I see you.”

“You wish,” Connor retorts. “I’d be more scared of a spider.”

“Prove it, then,” Roland tells him. He’s so assured of himself that he even leans back a little, resting casually where he kneels on the cold floor of the basement right in front of Connor. He truly doesn’t believe that Connor could do a damn thing to him that matters.

He’s wrong, though. Connor can. Roland is expecting a fight, or an insult, something he can counter, but that’s the wrong move. Mama may have raised a boy she could give away for forms signed in triplicate but she sure as hell didn’t raise a fool, so Connor knows he must do something terrible, something worse, something to ruin this dark place forever. There’s one last trick up Connor’s sleeve, but it’s the wrong move, it’s the wrong path to start because once he starts going he’ll never stop. He should back off now, but he’s just like Roland in that aspect– could never back down, could never do anything but hurl himself directly into trouble– there is simply no other option– no choice– 

Connor’s mouth collides with Roland’s so harshly that their teeth crush together. He has the brief thought that he’d like to do that again, leaving the other boy bloody and bruised, and a sharp spike of something hot but not entirely unpleasant courses through him at the thought. Connor’s hand locks onto Roland’s throat a moment later, fingernails scrabbling for purchase before sliding down to grip the neck of his t-shirt. Maybe he should have gone for the throat first instead of the mouth, but that wasn’t the part that mattered. It was an afterthought. Throttle the boy, but not before you make him yours.

Roland lets out a surprised choke of air, just enough for Connor’s stomach to twist with satisfaction at getting the other hand, before he kisses Connor back with the same force if not more, enough to knock Connor’s head back against the wall. Connor gasps at the impact, giving Roland enough purchase to start pushing him into the ground again. Roland would bury him beneath the earth if he could, Connor thinks. He would erase all evidence that Connor had ever existed. Only Roland would know that he had been there at all. 

He’d like that too, Connor thinks with a shiver. Having that power over Connor. Owning him in every way that matters. Absolutely evil, but Connor is worse, because he has seen all of that and liked it. And allowed it to continue. And started it first.

Roland pulls away just a little, leaving both of them panting for breath. He kneels over Connor like a wild animal, and there’s a spark of something new in his eyes. It might be respect. “Didn’t think you had it in you, Lassiter.”

“You don’t know anything,” Connor growls, and forces them back together. One of his hands is bunched in the material of Roland’s shirt, the other reaching up past the throat to knot in Roland’s dark hair. He’s seen it from across the basement for days now, how it seemed to suck in all the light that touched it. He’s wanted to touch it, too, for a very long time. Connor tugs on the roots, jerking Roland’s head back, exposing the veins pulsing against the skin. If he only had a blade– but he is the blade now, he is the weapon. Connor could kill him right now, and he wouldn’t even need a knife.

The thought shocks him out of whatever trance made him do this. Connor pushes him away, suffering for purchase against the dirty floor until he picks himself up and flings himself across the basement, ending up where Roland had been just minutes before. They stare at each other again, so far from where they started, but somehow exactly in the same position. Two lions stuck in a cage, pacing, circling, until one lunges to draw blood and they engage once more.

“This won’t happen again,” Connor informs him. Even he doesn’t believe it.

Roland laughs pityingly. “You tell yourself that. We’ve got plenty of time before they let us out. You’ll get bored. Face it, Connor. You can never let me go.”

Connor shakes his head resolutely. This was a breach of judgment, a one-time slip. A mistake that won’t repeat. But he can still taste Roland’s breath on his tongue, and he can see where Roland’s dark hair is mussed from his hands, and Connor knows– he knows that he is wrong. That it will happen again. And he will start it, or Roland will, or both of them. It won’t matter. In the dark of the basement, where no one knows they’re alive, they can do whatever they want. This is what Connor wants. He's in a position to take it, so he will, again and again until they pull him out.

Then, who cares. He doesn’t have to think about that. He doesn’t have to think at all.

Roland grins. He’s won this round. Connor will have to beat him at something else, find a way to expose his throat to the cold, violent air or otherwise make him weak. He still has two hands and a pulse. He’ll find a way to get back on top.

Until then, Connor doesn’t have to remember a thing. The darkness swallows everything anyway. No point in looking.

a/n: for u babe @nealshustermanbrainrot

unwind tag list: @reinekes-fox, @sirofreak, @locke-writes

all tags list: @wordsarelife

#unwind #unwind imagines #unwind oneshot #unwind fanfic #connor lassiter #connor lassiter imagines #connor lassiter oneshot #connor lassiter fanfic #unwind dystology #unwind dystology imagines #unwind dystology oneshot #unwind dystology fanfic #roland taggart #roland taggart imagines #roland taggart oneshot #roland taggart fanfic #conroland #conroland imagines #conroland oneshot #conroland fanfic #lassitaggart #connorroland #connor x roland #connor lassiter x roland taggart

[ask-ursa-tonypeter]

[DB AU] how would Pyrite!Tony react to learning exactly what happened to Peter (including that it was an alternate version of himself). Obviously this would depend on Peter making it back and maybe Tony also seeing Peter’s clear discomfort around him now.

[[this snippet also answers another question sent in: "How might Pyrite!Tony and Pyrite!Peter's react to seeing each other, after P!Peter returns home? Would P!Peter ever tell P!Tony about the details of alt-Tony? How would the kidnapping affect their relationship?"

warnings for: allusions to noncon and grooming, mentions of long-term captivity, general Sads]]

Tony thought he knew why Peter was so uncomfortable with him.

Their parents didn't seem to notice, or if they did, they were chalking it up to something else. Peter being ashamed of the big brother he idolized knowing about what had happened to him, maybe, some kind of insecurity along those lines.

If they'd really recognized it– the way Peter alternated between always watching Tony out of the corner of his eye and not being able to look at him at all, the way he went tense when Tony moved too suddenly, the way he hovered close to them but sat as far away from Tony as possible– if they'd really recognized it, they would've said something by now. They certainly wouldn't have left Peter alone with him.

It hurt, but it wasn't like Tony didn't deserve it. He had betrayed Peter's trust in a way, even if it had taken– some scumbag– taking him, keeping him, using him for Peter to realize it– so now here he was, sitting by Peter's bedside and trying to figure out how to say 'I promise I won't hurt you' to someone who had no reason to believe him.

Peter was in one of his avoidant moods. He had a mug of hot chocolate cupped between his hands and was staring down into it, quiet, the mood heavy and awkward between them while their parents dealt with phonecalls to law enforcement and publicists elsewhere in the house.

And then Peter took a breath, and he said, "Do you believe in multiverse theory?"

The non-sequitur and the fact that Peter was talking to him at all took Tony aback, but– he thought he understood.

He'd thought a lot about different versions of himself that might have made different decisions while Peter was gone, after all.

"I don't see why not," he said, slow, wanting to leave the door open for Peter to take the conversation in whatever direction he liked. "The science isn't anywhere near proving it, but the atom didn't care how long it took us to discover it, right?"

Peter nodded, almost absent-minded, his eyes still trained on his mug of cocoa. He was quiet for so long that Tony was scrambling to think of anything to say to not lose that tiny thread of connection– a joke, a string of science talk to get Peter excited, an admission of all the choices he thought the best version of himself would've made instead– but Peter still beat him to the punch.

"Mom and… our parents can't know this," he said abruptly, tipping his head slightly towards Tony even though he still didn't cut his eyes Tony's way. "They'd just think I'm crazy, probably. But it's real. The multiverse, I mean."

A chill crept into Tony's blood as he stared, Peter's words and their implications slowly sinking in.

Because there were two possibilities here, and they were both bad.

First, Peter was crazy; he'd cracked under the weight of everything he'd been through and they had an entirely different kind of recovery ahead of them than they'd thought.

Or second–

It never had made sense how Peter just disappeared out of his room.

"Yeah?" Tony prompted, and it was harder than he expected to keep the tremble out of his voice.

Peter hummed an affirmative, blinking slowly like there was something hypnotic to the warm brown of the cocoa in his mug, and he lifted his shoulder in a little shrug before he said, "It was you. Or, not you. Another version of you, I guess. He was older. And his eyes were blue?"

It didn't make sense. It didn't make sense. Cold all the way to his bones, Tony said, "Pete, what?"

Peter finally glanced at him then. Just quickly, there and gone, checking Tony's expression.

The cocoa in his mug started to ripple when he said, soft, "The man who took me."

The man who took him. The man who'd taken him away for months, for over a year until even their mother had started to give up hope, who'd left them to be tortured with questions of where and why and what, who'd put that haunted look in Peter's eyes and made it so that he couldn't stand to be touched except through layers of bundled blankets or heavy sweaters, the man who'd– who'd–

Peter's hands were still trembling around his mug, but he was the one to fill the silence again when Tony could only stare, horror-struck and unprocessing.

"He was… he was his Peter's dad. Um, the Peter in his world was his kid, I mean. They weren't brothers." Peter breathed a shaky sigh, like the words themselves were heavy. "But that Peter died, and so D– so that Tony… He wanted a replacement. So he took me."

"Pete," Tony said unsteadily, because he just– he needed a minute, he needed– he needed this to stop, he needed Peter to say he was joking, he needed things to make sense–

But Peter was suddenly in tears then, sniffling, his voice wavering wetly as the words kept coming: "He was like… a dictator, I guess? He took over the world. Or the country, I don't know, all the newspapers were about how great he was so it's not like… B-but he could do whatever he wanted. He'd just, like– execute people? You know?"

It was ridiculous. Science fiction. The type of thing someone came up with to distance themselves from the all-too-real horror of being chained to a radiator a few miles from home by an average, everyday creep.

But–

"It was really scary," Peter said, hunched over his mug to steady it in his shaking hands. "I was scared all the time. He never, he never hit me– I wasn't lying about that–"

He'd tried to lie about the rest of it, about what had been done to him, but the way he'd crumbled into tears just at their mother's horrified, faltering implication of a question had given him away.

But watching him shake, watching the words pour out of him now like poison that he needed to purge– Tony was absolutely, sickeningly certain that he wasn't lying.

"–but it was still s-so… I never knew what he was going to do? To me or someone else or…" Peter lifted one hand to wipe at his eyes, and his voice broke when he kept going. "He made me call him 'Dad.'"

That was the thing that made his steady trickle of tears tip over into a hitching sob, and Tony didn't want to think about why. He didn't want to think about any of this– he didn't want to know about any of this; he didn't know what he was going to do with the rising tides of guilt and horror and regret flooding his heart and lungs and throat, and he wasn't even the one who had a right to be upset here, he wasn't the one who'd had to live it–

Peter had one hand pressed to his mouth, covering the grimace of his quiet sobs while his mug tipped dangerously close to spilling.

"Your drink–" Tony said, helpless, useless, so fucking useless, hearing all of that and worrying about fucking chocolate stains on Peter's covers like that mattered, but what else could he say? What else could he possibly do or fix when it was his face that was making Peter break down and sob like this, when every second just had to be a reminder of–

Peter heard him, though, and he adjusted his grip, because even in the middle of crying his mangled little heart out he was still perfect and good and someone Tony shouldn't even be allowed near.

But maybe that was the thing he could fix.

"Kid–"

Tony's voice cracked, and he cleared his throat hard, pulling himself together. He wasn't going to let Peter feel– fucking guilty about this, and he wouldn't put that past him, even now.

He tried again:

"...Do you want me to leave?"

It was almost a relief to think about. Accepting that he didn't have a place in Peter's life and slinking away to where he couldn't hurt him; putting that corner of his heart to bed for good. He'd thought so much while Peter was gone about whether Peter would've been better off never getting involved with him, and there would be some closure in knowing it for sure.

But instead of sending him away, Peter groaned, "I don't know," wrung out and scrubbing one sleeve across his damp eyes. "No. I don't know. I'm just… I know you didn't… b-but I… do you believe me?"

It felt like confessing to a crime somehow, accepting that he believed some other version of himself out there could be that kind of monster.

But Tony wasn't going to lie.

"Yeah, kid. I… fuck."

He cleared his throat again, chasing away the tightness that wanted to gather there, and if he couldn't help the prickling in his eyes– well, Peter wasn't looking at him anyway.

"M'sorry. For everything. I'm– yeah." He shook his head, and Peter deserved more from him– so, so much more from him– but he had to move on then, because if he gave Peter the apology he deserved and let all of it spill out he really would just break down right there and fuck up everything worse than it already was. "This– this– fucker– how did you– can he follow you? I've gotta– I won't let it happen again. Pete, I won't let it happen again."

It was a stupid thing to promise, probably. The whole idea still sounded like fiction, and Tony didn't even know where to start with– finding some way to anchor Peter to home, making some kind of multiversal warning system, cutting their whole fucking universe off from whatever else was out there if that's what it took, but–

If another version of himself had figured out how to tamper with the multiverse, then so could he. And this was something he could fix.

Peter stared at him, then. Not a sideways glance, but an outright, unprocessing stare like it was beyond belief that– what, that Tony would believe him? Want to help him? Care about keeping him safe?

Care about him at all?

Tony clenched his jaw, fingernails biting into the meat of his palms with the effort of pushing down every other thought and feeling and impulse, and he said, "I won't let anyone hurt you."

Peter's gaze went distant, almost like he hadn't heard Tony at all. He blinked slowly, and then his eyes meandered away from Tony and back down to his lap. He finally took a long sip of his cocoa, and then shrugged.

"He can't follow me," Peter said finally, slowly. Dreamlike, almost, like he had to hunt around for the words and was surprised to find them. "He's… gone. So it's okay."

It was a relief to hear that the guy was "gone." It was another moment of horror to imagine what that meant for Peter; what he'd had to see and go through and what else was lurking in his memories for him to dole out in soft, uncertain, devastating words.

And it hurt to have him brush away Tony's promises. Without even an instant of taking comfort in them, without even a second of his old starry-eyed gratitude, and Tony didn't need that from him but– to see it so clearly, how his words didn't hold any weight at all anymore after what Peter had been through– and why would they, why would they when it was Tony who was saying them–

Tony didn't know if he was trying to reassure Peter or punish himself, if he was fishing for forgiveness or reprobation, but the words finally clawed their way out of his chest in a wave of sincerity and self-hatred that he couldn't stop:

"I won't hurt you," he said, desperate, and it was what he'd wanted to say all along. "We're– all of that is done, okay? I would never hurt you. Never."

And Peter–

Smiled.

Not a sweet smile. Not a shy smile or a relieved smile or anything at all like an expression Tony would ever expect to see on Peter's face. It was a tiny, bitter twist of his lips as he stared down into his mug, his gaze so faraway that he may as well have still been in another universe, and Tony's heart dropped before he even spoke.

"I know," Peter said, simple.

And with the same terrible certainty that Tony had known that Peter's story was true– this time, he knew that Peter was lying.

#fic: double blind #multiverse: kidnapping au #fic response #ursa interlude: #this took forever because I started so strong and then abruptly lost steam like #half a page from the end #nonnies I am sure you already forgot you asked these questions but! here you go! #the second question also included a bit about time distortion between the two universes which is interesting but not what I went with here!

[raytm]

there's this sentimentality that comes from seeing old fandoms or people you used to write with being active again ?

#but also knowing that you ??? left or disappeared from them #and i never mean to do it or make people feel that way #ive been grappling with my adhd want for serotonin and jumping between things for close to a decade #and i usually go back to the things i love the most or have written alot over the years but. #there's a happy gradient to sadness that comes with it. #ooc. #negative tw

[journey-to-the-attic]

friends are currently debating whether 'lost in the citadel' or 'montero (call me by your name)' is the better solphisto song and here are the main points for each side of the argument:

"lost in the citadel works for both perspectives and their tragic yuri romance" (lines 'i need time to get up and get off the floor / i need time to realise that i can't be yours' given as main example) - jo

vs

"montero cos those two definitely want to f-" - james (perhaps better known as captain bhole)

#on a more serious note jo's point did make me a little insane #again: the line 'i need time to get up and get off the floor / i need time to realise that i can't be yours' #this is so solomon-trying-to-recover-from-mephisto's-perceived-abandonment coded #but it is also so mephisto-unsure-of-how-to-go-forward-after-disappearing-on-solomon-for-millenia coded #obey me solomon #jtta mephisto #solphisto #there were arguments to be made for some of the other songs too but these were the main contenders #personally i also nominated life after salem #it feels like something solomon would listen to that abandonment aftermath once he's hit the bitter anger stage of grief #(at least he would have if music recordings had been invented and also lil nas x had been born back then) #i just feel in my gut that he went full teenage-girl-after-first-break-up for a period afterwards #(the other nominee was 'thats what i want' for the time they had together before mephisto left but that one was less talked about) #you know i didn't realise it until i went back and re-did some stuff but solphisto ended up with such Divorced vibes #believe it or not i didn't actually intend for them to be romantically involved when i first wrote their backstory #(you can see that in the first asks proposing the pairing i was kinda hesitant lol) #but looking back. the tragic yuri was always meant to be #to the anon who first called them yuri btw: you've changed my life

[astrxealis]

good morning 🥺

#⋯ ꒰ა starry thoughts ໒꒱ *·˚ #sorrey ... not active ..... lots going on but also not (?) #IDK anyways i've reconnected w an old friend who's a childhood friend bcs shes the daughter of my mom's friend ^___^ #she said she's gna get into the 1975 more !! but she's alrdy going to the arctic monkey's concert soon which is super cool #and i rmbr our mom asked me and lune if we knew them too <3 but we didn't know there was a legit concert SOBS #yeah miss her a lot and it's sweet how wnvr we do reconnect a bit it always so happens we're into the same thing of sorts :(( #AND THEN! wow idk i've grown a lil less hesitant. somehow. idk. literally replied to the story on ig of a guy ik but haven't talked to in ag #ages* purely bcs he kept posting like woaaa based game and then ff6 best ff so i was like SO TRUE but have u played 14 #and he has NOT but does want to and then wow we could have had a lil convo but i left to watch a movie sorry bro <//3 #what else ... hmm ..... WELL. an old friend from all the way in 6th grade. okay so we often message each other a bit just like 'hey wna be #grpmates' or smth like that and that one time where they gave me a lil help for the chem grp work and i'm like. just comfy talking like #myself fr BUT THENNN messaged me sometime last week bcs. like smth w a grpwork and they got anxious they did smth wrong #bcs no one in the gc replied to them (sorry i didn't either SOBS) T___T ended up turning the convo to 'hey wt abt i finally try to talk w u #properly more' and HELL YEAHHH we both r the kinds that talk/type a lot but sometimes dip and disappear how lovely /gen LMAO <3 #idk. uhm. with the school fair we have booths and shifts for the booths and my group is the one with uhh the 4 kids who i'm often groups #with and they're all the. yk kids. ppl who i'd get along w and i've been classmates w all of em b4 but you see they're a grp of friends now #RAGHH ONE OF THEM IK LIKES PERSONA (MULTIPLE?? IDK. they once were like yo apollo u seem like u like persona lol #IDK WHAT THAT IS SUPPOSED TO MEAN but yes i do have akechi and ren charms on my backpack for school #AND THEN ONE is into like gi pjsk a lot of rhythm games and gacha mobile but all like uhh. yeah? tot love live bandori ... still cool fr tho #she's rlly nice tbh lol ^___^ wait tbh all of them are HELP but uhm idk but it's nice when ppl r nice to me #tbf that's literally how i got my first crush BUT WE DON'T TALK ABT THAT !! yk sometimes i unconsciously wonder abt her or look for her and #then i did see her again after a few months since seeing her early in on the school year bcs shes in basketball and i hung out at the uhh #covered court w my best friend whos in another varsity bcs we stayed late at school that day to help out w fair preparations! #i refuse to like her again but i realize i like that familiarity with feelings and uhmm yeah shes cool ig i kinda wish i was less. uhm. shy #back then? you see i barely cld talk to her ... LIKE. she'd be like. heyy! and do shit sometimes and i WOULDN'T TALK or just smile and #mumble RAFGHHHFHFHDHH but she'd say hi to me and include me in things and jokes and it made me rlly /@!(@/'dmdkzn okay #AND sometimes when i do talk back I am SOOOO GODDAMN AWKWARD GOOD GODS anyways now i'm like. less awkward. or maybe i've just accepted it n #i'm cooler now B) and a lot more confident zEjfhejdjsnk. yeah. and uhmm yeah that's it #BUT YEAH nice classmate she asked me for a hug once lol and i notice she's affectionate w her friends n it reminds me of m y own bestie awhh #she sometimes talks to me which i rlly appreciate even if it prolly seems like i hate her sorry i just suck w talking