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empireofpearls-if · 11 months

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Embark on a captivating journey as you assume the identity of Birbal, a brilliant prodigy, and immerse yourself in the enigmatic realm of the Mughal Empire. Behold a world thrown into chaos following the demise of Emperor Humayun, as a mere 14-year-old Akbar inherits the illustrious throne. Your choices shall shape the destiny of this young monarch, as you aid him in becoming the legendary emperor he's destined to be, or plunge the empire into turmoil by orchestrating a web of subversion and deceit. The power to shape an empire lies within your hands.

Amidst a cast of colorful characters, tread cautiously as you determine which souls can be deemed trustworthy, while remaining ever vigilant for those who may, with a swift and treacherous strike, plunge a dagger deep into your unsuspecting back. In this enthralling tale of loyalty and betrayal, the art of discerning friend from foe becomes your most vital survival skill. Make allies, face challenges and uncover hidden secrets. Just as internal conflict reaches a boiling point, the walls of the royal palace begin to tremble, beckoning you take a stance. Whose side will you embrace?

Empire of Pearls: A Mughal Tale is an interactive story inspired by historical events. It is set at the beginning of Abu'l-Fath Jalal-ud-din Muhammad Akbar's reign as the youngest-ever Mughal Emperor where you play as his most trusted advisor and friend, Birbal. This reimagined work is entirely text-based and your choices help shape Birbal's personality, skills, relationship with others, and of course the fate of the Empire.

Content warning: This game explores dark themes such as abuse, bullying, manipulation, use of drugs and alcohol, blood, gore, violence etc. and is strictly rated 18+. Besides that more in depth warnings will be provided before each chapter and certain trigger points can be turned off completely at the start of the game.

Demo | Character Appearances | Tags | FAQ |

Play as male or female and choose your real name and sexuality.

Customize your appearance and personality.

Choose one of three different backgrounds that will impact your reputation and relationships:

A noble possessing a remarkable talent, invited to join the court by Emperor Humayun himself; a child of a maid serving a powerful military commander, hired on the recommendation of the commander or a street urchin caught stealing from the royal palace, rewarded with a place in the elite circle owing to the incredible feat.

Romance any of the five different love interests or not. Friendship is always an option.

Be a part of an elite group of courtiers serving none other than Emperor Akbar and shape the fate of the Empire.

Abu'l-Fath Jalal-ud-din Muhammad Akbar (he/him) 💕 : The newly crowned young emperor. Friendly and affable, the ruler has a tendency to be a bit impulsive at times. Despite his age he has been preparing for this role for years and doesn't seem at all nervous to be the new monarch. Akbar can be a powerful friend and an equally dangerous foe. How he perceives you vary depending on your background. A year younger than Birbal.

...........

Bairam Khan (he/him): A military commander and the most trusted ally of the throne until the death of Emperor Humayun. Since then he has been promoted to commander-in-chief, if that wasn't all he also happens to be Akbar's guardian, chief mentor and advisor. Bairam knows his way around the empire but can you actually trust this man?

...........

Ruqaiya Sultan Begum (she/her) 💕: An aloof but fiercely loyal woman and Akbar's first wife. Being cousins, neither of them ever saw each other as anything but friends. But Ruqaiya also hides a big secret, one that has her loathing herself. Will you able to form a deep enough connection to assist her in embracing her true self and breaking free from her constraints? A year younger than Birbal.

...........

Salima Sultan Begum (she/her): A strong and intelligible woman and Akbar's second wife. She feels heavily undervalued and undermined by the court which causes her to constantly act out and push the boundaries of what is acceptable for a woman. Though she sees Akbar as a friend, anything more than that with anyone is unfathomable to her. Two years younger than Birbal.

...........

Mahira Khan Mughal (she/her) 💕: A softspoken and timid young woman sold as a political pawn by her own father to become Akbar's third wife. Mahira longs for companionship and understanding which she can't find in the palace but you can fill that void in her life by secretly courting her or by providing the friendship she desperately craves. Two years younger than Birbal.

...........

Arslan Khan (he/him)💕: The son of Bairam Khan and another young prodigy, seemingly possessing supernatural powers and later becoming known as the legendary Mulla Do-Pyaza. With a mixture of rivalry and occasional bullying, he views Birbal as a formidable adversary. Arslan, driven by an insatiable desire for his father's approval, harbors a volatile temper that ignites at the mere mention of insults hurled towards his family. Peering beyond the myth, can you uncover the man within? A year older than Birbal.

...........

Nadeem/Nadia Mirza (opposite gender of Birbal) 💕: Birbal's betrothed and distant cousin of Akbar. A noble with a secret lover, N only accepted the marriage offer because it was arranged by commander-in-chief Bairam Khan himself and it was made obvious that refusal would not bear good consequences for their family. Can you form a connection with your betrothed despite the rocky start? Two years older than Birbal.

#interactive fiction #if wip #romance #history #drama #LGBTQIA #choicescript #no demo #intro post #dashingdon #empire of pearls #empire of pearls: a mughal tale #mughal era #historical #interactive #choice of games #hosted games #tragedy

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legolasghosty · 2 years

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excuse me while i send you a million questions from that ask game 😂 but.... 2, 4, 5, 7, 8, 23, 29, 37 and 38!

Hiiiii babe!!!!! No excuse needed, I love the million questions!

2 - Is there a trope you’ve yet to try your hand at, but really want to?

Answered here, but I'll add another one cause why not. I don't think I've ever actually written a kid fic, either where one of the canon characters is a much younger child than they are in canon and it's about their childhood, or where you have canon characters becoming parents. I've thought about various versions of it a fair amount with various characters, but I've never really messed with anyone's age more than a few years in either direction. Willex would be great parents though, just saying...

4 - How many fic ideas are you nurturing right now? Care to share one of them?

Uhhhhh.... a lot? I don't have a ton of writing time at the moment, so the ideas are just building up in my head. There's at least half a dozen, probably more, in various stages of planning and daydreaming and being written.

One that I'm in the process of setting up is actually a response to a prompt you sent me like two weeks ago. Basically, Willex goes on an ice skating date. Neither has done it before, but both assume the other will be great at it, since they both dance and Willie is almost never without his beloved skateboard. Spoiler alert, they are both awful at it. Chaos and flirting and falling and probably a lot of hot chocolate ensues.

5 - Share one of your strengths.

None of the above.

Kidding, don't kill me please! Uhhh, I guess I'm alright at domestic fluff? Like, just the blurbos hanging out and doing boring life stuff together and loving each other. I really like some good domestic fluff, and I've been informed that I am decent at making it too, which is cool!

7 - Share a snippet from one of your favorite pieces of prose you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Stop making me say nice things about myself! Okay, answered here, but I guess you'll yell at me if I don't do another one so...

There were many things that were hard about being on tour. The long hours on the bus, for example. Or the fact that he couldn't just leave when Luke got too loud, or wail on his drums whenever he wanted, due to them being packed away between locations. But he loved touring with Julie and the boys. And he loved that Willie was able to come with them. Because it meant that he could do the things he loved, with the people he loved, all the time. They'd had to wait a couple of years after forming the band and Julie's Magical Hug of Destiny to go very far from LA since Julie had to finish high school, but they were finally doing it! And it was amazing!

Except when it wasn't. Except on days like this when Alex just didn't have the energy for anything beyond the basic necessities. And, unfortunately for him, his body and brain didn't count showering as a 'necessity’. It wasn't that he didn't like showering, or that he didn't feel sweaty and dirty, despite still definitely being partially a ghost. No, there was just something about showering, specifically in unfamiliar places, that freaked his brain out. And, because of the tour, Alex was always in an unfamiliar place.

This is from the first proper fic I ever published(Read it here). It was basically just a projection fic to get me through a rough patch, but I think it actually turned out okay and it holds a special place in my heart as the first thing I posted.

8 - Share a snippet from one of your favorite dialogue scenes you’ve written and explain why you’re proud of it.

Do I have tooooooo?

Then Willie turned around and Alex’s gaze fixed on his face. The conflicted wave of emotions from before seemed to have simplified into just two: excitement and fear. “What do you think?” they asked softly, chewing nervously on their lower lip.

Alex was across the room in an instant, pausing for a beat to wait for Willie’s nod before resting his hands on their biceps. “Willie, you look incredible! ” he stated quietly. “I’m pretty sure half of my brain isn’t even working right now with how good you look. How do you feel?”

Willie chuckled and stepped forward, leaning into Alex’s chest. “I feel good,” he whispered as Alex pulled him close. “I really like it.”

“I’m glad,” Alex murmured. “I really like it too.”

Willie pulled away suddenly, grinning as he threw his arms out and spun around in a circle, the black fabric flying out around him. “It’s so swishy!” they exclaimed, giggling.

I guess this? It's from a fic called It's New, It Looks Good On You that I published a few months back, in which Alex gets Willie their first skirt. I guess I just like how comfortable they feel around each other, even in a pretty vulnerable situation. Healthy relationships, my beloved!

23 - If you were to revise one of your older fics from start to finish, which would it be and why?

Oh gosh, well none of my stuff is really that old. I only started actually writing early last summer. I guess... Okay, I didn't post I'll Be Here, I'll Hold You Through It till like six months ago, but I wrote it over a year ago now. It was basically written in a late night fit of anxiety and seriously needing a hug, and I feel like it isn't that good. I mostly posted it out of nostalgia and because I wanted to post something. I kinda feel like I could do better with the material now and it would be a better fic.

29 - If you could write the sequel (or prequel) to any fic out there not written by yourself, which would you choose?

Oh gosh, I wouldn't dare touch most of my favorite fics with a ten foot pole, I'd wreck them. But... there's some thoughts lurking in my ideas doc about a prequel to Girl Crush by the lovely @valiantlyweepingdreamer, giving the story of one of the couples that is already together in the main fic. I have no idea if I'll ever actually get around to writing it, but we discussed ideas for a while back in November I think.

37 - Talk about your current wips.

Oh you're gonna regret asking that one, I could ramble about my wips for hours. I'll try and keep it short here, and expand on the Willex ice skating fic I mentioned above. (No I haven't actually started writing it, shut up!)

The date is Alex's idea, cause Reggie and Luke were teasing him and Willie about how they never go on 'proper dates'(Hey, who needs to stay legal when you're invisible, and they have the best cuddle dates). So Alex googles a list of date ideas and is like, "Oh, ice skating, I bet Willie will be good at that." So they go(invisibly), snag a couple pairs of skates from the rental booth(They can put them back later, it's not like they're gonna leave germs on them or something, Alex!), and go out on the ice... only for Alex to immediately fall. Willie laughs and tries to help him up, only to lose his balance and fall too.

They kinda sort it out eventually, but they never get off the wall without hanging onto each other's hands for dear life. Afterwords, they poof back to the Molina's and make hot chocolate, because what is ice skating without hot chocolate?

38 - Talk about a review that made your day.

Okay, this was just on a doc I sent to a friend(after many conversations about said fic and me tinkering with it for literal months despite being under 1k long), but their response was so sweet!!!

"i have something to say i think this might be one of my favourite things i've read from you, if not the favourite it's so good for one because i love kissing in any way shape or form, highest form of expression of love for me, but also because it's written just so beautifully, it's lyrical almost, the images, the phrases, the language metaphor, it's great!! i love it so much"

(^Copied from our DMs)

It was just so sweet and it totally made my day and while I have no idea if that fic will ever see the light of day(literally, cause I only ever seem to be able to work on it at night...), it just makes me really happy that someone else loves it so much! I love that fic, I'm just also terrified of it so... yeah. Anyways, I won't tag them cause I don't wanna be annoying, but if you see this, you know what I'm talking about and I love you!!!!!

#whew #that took a minute #/nm #love you shelly #legolas tag #legolas ask #legolas answers asks #ask game #writing asks #jatp fanfic

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spongebobafettywap · 8 months

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Well... I actually stumbled on the Star Wars X X-Men Fanart you're referencing about a week ago and, after reading the real X-Men parody of it, feel completely robbed of how much of an interesting plot it could have been...

Because what we actually got in Sins of Sinister is Mystique and Destiny leaving the mutant island after the latter foresaw Sinister taking over the whole thing (+ Earth and other worlds) 5 WHOLE years before shit hit the fan and... They both completely ditched Rogue. Throughout the 3 issue series that continuously features Mystique and Destiny, neither even mentioned her by name. As far as we know? She ded

Beast for the past 4 years has been entirely rewritten to be an irredeemable villain, worse than Sinister from what the writers explicitly tell us. He's still team bad guy here

Nighcrawler was mostly caged and incapacitated throughout the whole event. He's out of the loop for any crossover because none of his friends or biological family ever came for him

Gambit, like Rogue, is non-existent in this plot. Otherwise, he would have taken the spotlight from Sinister and his clones or Storm and the mutant team she's been hanging out with this whole time instead of her longtime friends or Nightcrawler's half a dozen spliced clones or Destiny

The parody is one issue set 100 years in the future and features longtime characters like Storm + X-Men's Darth Vader counterpart... Destiny wearing a new weird outfit

That's it

Where's Mystique? Well she showed up for a 3 panel flashback in that issue before croaking in a battle that didn't matter. Destiny warned her but Mystique was fed up with being cooped away in a cell (?!?) for the past century by her so she decided to leave for what she knew was her death instead of staying any longer with Irene. She's the only one to die amongst a team of newbies and for the rest of the event, the only sight we get of her is a flashback of Destiny crying over her corpse (which didn't even look bruised in its Snow White like glass coffin)

The plot was that they (Storm and Destiny) need to now look for the macguffin to reset the timeline back before Sinister took over because... Mystique was dead. That's Destiny's only motivation to participate in this plot and yes both her and Mystique could have prevented shit hitting the fan this whole time but didn't

The story ends with Storm killing Destiny (which she saw coming but whatev) to not reset the shitty timeline because look at all the people who were born during it and the nation she built (completely disregarding the threat Sinister was as he kept expanding his conquest on the galaxy even magic worlds like Hell) and then getting a power boost to teleport everything and everyone away before dying

Results: Needs more Polaris and fan content is my only canon from now on

Yeah that fan's concept of a X-men Star Wars is way better than anything Marvel would do with it, I kind of guessed that would be the case even if they didn't do what they did its like you can count on them to mess a concept up. I swear Community has a similar vibe to what X-men SHOULD be with a ensemble cast of characters doing various things sometimes parodying movie plots. Marvel should have taken notes from their Star Wars homage.

So what you're saying is they're turning Beast into Dark Beast? Seriously? Why are they trying to make almost every X-men member a Supervillain? most of them are REFORMED Supervillains. Great job missing the point of your own franchise Marvel! hahaha.

This all sounded like a major mess really.

#Maz answers #X-men

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struggling-with-time · 2 years

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"You look like shit" [c!Wilbur x m!reader]

Pairing: c!Wilbur x male!reader, platonic

Summary: Your life unfolds alongside the musician you met. A common phrase rises to become common in moments of silence and triumph.

Warnings/tags: Angst, Alcoholism, PSTD, hurt no comfort, bit of fluff

Words: 2.3k words

Masterlist: Wilbur’s Masterlist - Full Masterlist - Event Masterlist

A/N: This was written for @allywritesforfun's valentines day event. "Secret Cupid/Secret Platonic Lover." I encourage you to check out the rest.

I got the prompt, "c!Wilbur x m!reader, platonic, any" For my secret valentine @a-spex for ally's event.

(Also requests are still open! Click here!)

“You look like shit.”

Is a sentence so lovely, it has been uttered many times through the years, through the centuries, through your friendship.

The phrase was quick to leave your mouth as a musician was knocking on your door in need of shelter for the night, to get away from the rain.

A musician who would spend the night in your small house, lie on your couch, and tell you stories of the world you had never experienced. He tells vividly of his travels, from his hometown, out to the sea, to climbing mountains, and descending caverns.

Although you never truly believed in his stories, you were captivated by his sense of adventure and search for something greater than what he had ever seen before.

He tells his name.

Wilbur Soot.

A man from nothing, who sealed your fate the day he knocked on your door.

A traveller gained a travel partner that night, and you were out of the village before the church bell ever rang. You had never been big on taking risks, but when staring down the eyes of destiny, you take her hand and let her guide you along. It’s better than for her to drag you on your way on a path you refuse to take.

“You look like shit.”

He tells you laughingly as you’re sitting around the campfire, a small settlement has been made in unoccupied fields. A man with the name of Dream had invited Wilbur to his new settlement, and Wilbur had dragged you along.

Leading to you having struggled with setting up a tent all afternoon, more out of breath from the activity than you had thought was possible. It’s a horrendous sight, but you’re overjoyed in the moment. It’s a moment of victory that needs to be celebrated.

The alcohol is quick to be pulled out as you share the bottle between you. It’s homebrew, but anything intoxicating is better than nothing.

The children of the settlement are long asleep as the adults, that are not much older than the children, share their stories, and laugh in the face of the other's pain and suffering from their travels. Each one seeking the fortune of the unknown.

“You look like shit.”

You wrap your soldier’s jacket around Wilbur, it’s late. It’s far too late for him to still be up. He may be your commander, but he’s still your friend. He’s your friend long before he’s anyone of authority to you.

“You don’t look much better.”

“No, but at least I remember to wear something other than nightclothes when pondering my thoughts to the skies.”

“I’m not pondering.”

“Sure, and that isn’t half-finished poetry.”

Wilbur hides his documents, you don’t know if it is poetry. You don’t know what he’s working on anymore. It all just seems to bleed together in between the shots of riffles and TNT blowing up. It all feels so meaningless when you watch others fall on a battlefield, they never wanted to be on in the first place.

He looks at you, his eyes are sunken, you know he doesn’t sleep as much as he should. Because neither do you, wandering the grounds, hoping to make them a bit safe in the night.

“Why are you still here?”

“Well, you stumbled into my house, gave me a call for adventure, then called me brother. I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t let me leave if I wanted to.”

He punches you in the shoulder, and his laugh rings into the night.

“Why do I put up with you?”

“Because I can put up with your bullshit, get some sleep Will, I’ll stand watch.”

You pull yourself up from the ground, he follows suit. His hand clutching the jacket you draped across his shoulders. You take it back, wearing it once again, feeling proud in the soldier uniform. Fighting for a country, for freedom, for your friendship.

“You look like shit.”

His voice getting carried from the wind behind you.

You smile tiredly at Wilbur as he comes to stand beside you, admiring the nation you’ve fought for together. Your wrist still burning from the missing heart on it, signifying the loss you’ve experienced. One you will happily take again, all over. Trusting your friend, your brother, deeply and thoroughly.

“You don’t look a whole lot better.”

Wilbur snorts at your comment, you can see his mind-twisting and turning to find the right words, either to get another quip at you or to find something poetic to say about the victory you’ve shared today.

A nation of freedom becoming independent from an oppressive force. The route for happiness is only paved from here on out.

He bumps your shoulder lightly with his own, settling on silence. And so the silence encapsulates you as you mourn the lost ones, and the sacrifices that have been made, all for the greater good, and all for the good that will come.

“You look like shit.”

“Oh, for fucks sake, could you say anything useful?”

Wilbur snaps at you, as you lean back in the chair, bored as ever. Legal documents and party promises have never been your strong suit.

“I could, like, have you seen Fundy today? Have you talked to Sally at all? I hear Tommy has been causing problems again, and I’m not the one on clean up duty.”

Wilbur sighs exhausted, and finally put down the documents in his hands. You never understood how an adventure as great as him, has tied himself to a place like this. The peace that has come with freedom has often been nice, but it’s all feeling so awfully similar to your life in your old village.

L’Manberg is great, and you would fight for it any day of the week, but right now it’s Saturday and a weekend, and you are craving fun.

“Alright, alright, I get it, you’ve become too important and high and mighty to share a drink with me. I get it, don’t worry dear President of mine. I shall take my leave.”

You do an overdramatic salute and wait approximately 46 seconds outside his door before the president has joined your side once more.

The steps of your shoes, falling in step with his. Many have called you brothers, and even more, have speculated, as the word seems to tumble from both of you, yet neither sharing any blood. You have the same taste of feeling like the world has the ability to be greater, and you will strive for that.

“You look like shit.”

His voice hits you like a dash of fresh air.

“I see you’ve escaped your cave of depression.”

“It’s called Pogtopia thank you very much.”

You snort at his response as you grab the flask from his hands. It’s cold, it’s always cold these days, the new President, Schlatt was his name, has put restrictions on the heat. He tried to tax the alcohol too, but that was quickly disputed when the alcoholic himself had been hit the hardest by his own tax plan.

“Yeah, yeah…”

The side of his eyes crinkle as he takes the flask back, you can see the way his fingers cling onto the bottle, the way he clings to this moment.

“Yeah…”

He breathes out.

You can feel it in the air, there is so much he wants to say. But there is nothing he can say. You both know what’s going to happen tomorrow. You planted the TNT yourself, under the eyes of a Wilbur you barely recognise, and the tyrant you once fought. But this is war, and thus the enemy of your enemy becomes your greatest ally. And how he has truly proven himself by providing exactly what Wilbur asked.

One day, you hope to never see that mask again, but it seems he’s never too far away from the chaos that is created.

“You look like shit.”

You kick a pebble away from his gravestone, you know it doesn’t matter if there is one or not. But at the moment, it feels like it makes the greatest difference.

It’s not even a real gravestone, he never got one.

Nobody thought he deserved one, yet there is a memorial for the dictator who once ruled the country of L’Manberg. They ruled like nobody meant anything and like you were all disposable.

And you can say you were, for now, you’re missing the greatest person you’ve ever met, and yet the world keeps turning. His body was buried somewhere far away from here. He was never meant to die, not after you finally found freedom, not after you were finally meant to walk the path you paved so many years ago.

Wilbur was meant to become a great man, and you can’t help but hate him for making you believe he would.

He was destined to do great, and thereby only did the worst.

You hate him.

“You look like shit.”

This is how the letter addressed to you starts. It was handed to you by Tommy, he told you it was one of the last things that had been left in Pogtopia, as Tommy had moved back into his embassy outside of the nation, and you had moved right back into its heart.

The letter is an apology wrapped in a lack of empathy.

Written days before the events of his death, written with a form of finality to it that you can’t help but wonder how many times he has rewritten this letter.

He rambles about so many things, about justice, about his traitorous son, about Eret, about Tubbo, Tommy, Techno, you. He rambles about you, calling you a brother, traitor and the best friend in his short life all in a sentence.

It reads as deranged as he was in his last days, at peace with the future, yet uncertain about the present.

You know you should either throw it out or save it, but it’s a decision for a future you, a future you refuse to remember as you head straight to your liquor cabinet.

The alcohol burning is ever-familiar as you once again drown out the world and the way you sometimes can hear the faintness of a gunshot, the smell of burning flesh, the way Wilbur looked dead long before a sword was pushed through his stomach.

“You look like shit.”

His head snaps open, he has been caught like a deer in the headlight, so innocent if you ignore the blood on his hands and gunpowder in his hair.

“If you’re going to raid my fucking liquor, at least say something and share with me.”

You fall down beside him on your couch, ripping the bottle from his hands.

“I can’t believe I’m still fucking drunk.”

You tell no one, the man beside you another hallucination, although he looks different than usual. A white streak in his hair was the most prominent change. But he looks older too, a lot more worn out, his clothes further ruined.

But the dead don’t come back alive, so you share your alcohol with him as you drown your sorrows, conversing with the hallucination, not realising how cold his touch is, or the way he looks so closely at you.

Words never leaving his mouth.

They never do.

The only ghosts that talk around here, is the one of him, but a version so innocent and happy. A version you can’t stand to look at, the ghost feeling nauseating to be around.

So you surround yourself with depressed hallucinations and bottles with no end. As you sleep the haziness away on your couch.

“You look like shit.”

You spring up from the couch, who the fuck is in your house. It’s the man from the night before your hallucination.

“Why the fuck are you still here?”

“What?”

“Am I still fucking drunk? How much of a bender am I on? I swear I would have slept most of it out by now.”

You run a hand over your face, already readying yourself for the headache to come, your house already dark, so that’s one less thing to worry about.

“No, it’s me, I’m alive.”

“Yeah sure.”

You turn away from the man, to gather bottles, there seems to be more than usual, you really must still be drunk.

“Dream brought me back.”

You stop in your step, letting the bottle in your hand fall onto your floor, it lands with a sad thump, before rolling over the couch.

“I’m sorry, say that again.”

You turn around to look at the man that was once named Wilbur. Wilbur Soot. A man that rose from the ashes, only to create so much pain and suffering around him, trashing everyone around him. A man that only left ashes behind as he moved on to a better place.

“Dream brought me back.”

“Get Out.”

You don’t have the time for this, and you certainly don’t have time to harbour resurrected dead presidents.

“What?”

“I said get out.”

Wilbur stumbles for a moment.

“But you’re my brother.”

“Don’t fucking call me your brother, if you still saw me as your fucking brother you wouldn’t have come in the middle of the night, and you wouldn’t have fucking come here at all.”

“But-“

“Get out of my house Soot. Get the fuck out of my life. You already took two from me. I refuse to give you more.”

You can see him bite his tongue. He has always been one to fight with words over actions. Leaving him defenceless without his silver tongue.

You watch him as he turns around and walks out your door. But you can’t find it in yourself to not yell after him.

It leaves your mouth before you realise the words are even there.

“You look like shit!”

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thecarnivorousmuffinmeta · 2 years

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Do you have any thoughts on the prophecy in Harry Potter? Per one of your asks, I think if Voldemort found out that Harry was a Horcrux, he’d attempt to keep alive. The line “Neither can live with the other survives” is disproven here. I also always thought it was a bit random how Neville was thrown into the prophecy, and I’m still not sure how to feel about it. On 1 hand, it’s great that Harry isn’t destined for greatness but on the other, Neville is an NPC and really doesn’t matter.

A Few Initial Thoughts

Well, it felt like a prophecy put in because JKR decided she desperately needed a prophecy.

One that would mark Harry Potter as the clear subject, something that would have made Voldemort come after him, but also something that would give him a choice and give the indication that Harry could lose.

So what we end up with is a prophecy that makes no damn sense.

A oddly specific first half that narrows the choices down to just Neville Longbottom and Harry Potter and no one else. Alright then. Then a very vague second half where, erm, neither can live while the other survives.

Despite both of them being alive at the same point in time.

And a power that the dark lord knows not but, er, no one else necessarily knows either.

And uh, "has the power to defeat" but not "will defeat".

When, by how Tom actually dies, anyone could have done it had they simply killed all the horcruxes. The power Harry had to defeat Voldemort was in that he himself was a horcrux and knew he needed to die to do it.

It's a weird prophecy, man, and one that given the circumstances it was heard in could... very well have been falsified.

FALSIFIED?!

Alright, who knows the prophecy?

Severus Snape, and through him Tom, knows the very specific first half (but we'll get into this).

Harry himself does not hear the prophecy. Before he can, the prophecy is destroyed in the Department of Mysteries. Neither he, nor Tom Riddle, ever hear the full original prophecy.

Harry gets the prophecy, then, from Dumbledore who until that point had seemed to have no intention of showing Harry the prophecy. Harry witnesses Dumbledore's memory, hears the prophecy in full, and learns that a) it could have been Neville but isn't b) it's his destiny alone to defeat Voldemort and this is the reason for his suffering.

Notice a common thread here though?

Dumbledore is the only one who has the prophecy in full and he's present in the room in which the prophecy is originally relayed.

Let's go back a bit here.

Dumbledore is giving a job interview, rather than this being done in Hogwarts, as Tom Riddle's was (a man who he never intended to give the job in the first place). Dumbledore does this in the back room of a pub run by his brother. The pub is noticeably not empty at the time and Severus Snape is allowed to lurk outside the door for a pivotal moment, in which Sybil Trelawney happens to give a prophecy about no one on the premises at the time.

And how do we know it's a prophecy? Sybil's voice gets a little weird and she starts speaking in prose.

Neither Voldemort nor Harry Potter are there, she gives the prophecy just the same.

This prophecy is oddly specific, and what Severus Snape is allowed to hear sets Voldemort up to hunt an extremely specific target that Dumbledore himself knows about.

Then, before he can hear anything else, he happens to be caught and happens to be removed from the premesies.

When Dumbledore relays the prophecy to Harry, we get these two mismatching sections: one extremely specific and one extremely vague. The prophecy as a whole, though, makes it very clear that Harry alone can do this and he should stop questioning this immediately.

What I'm saying is that all of this starts to look very... suspect.

Dumbledore sets a trap for Voldemort, knowing he won't be able to resist and will come after either the Potters or the Longbottoms, had Peter not been a spy they likely would have been able to ambush him rather than be taken by surprise.

The prophecy Harry hears is entirely useless except insofar as it galvanizes Harry to continue being the boy who lived. Something Dumbledore desperately needs.

The point remains though: can we be sure that anyone actually heard the prophecy?

But Dumbledore's Not That Evil!

There's some holes in this, obviously.

The Longbottoms seemed to have much less protections in place than the Potters and were tortured into insanity by Bellatrix, Rodolphous, Rebastian, and Barty Crouch Jr. Even though Albus gave Tom two targets, an ambush clearly wasn't set up at the Longbottoms.

The Potters did have protections in place, but those protections were to put them into hiding and make them untraceable. Had Peter not given their location away, Voldemort presumably would have had a much harder time even finding them making the likelihood of a trap waiting for him minimal. It's unlikely that Dumbledore could have predicted the boy who lived incident.

(Unless, of course, the prophecy Albus heard was a different prophecy entirely.)

It also requires Albus being so much of a bastard that he'd sacrifice his very young supporters, without their knowledge, and use them as bait for Tom Riddle but...

That's pretty in line with what Dumbledore does all the time.

WAS THERE EVEN A PROPHECY?!

It seems so, yes.

There was something recorded in the Department of Mysteries. Some reason Dumbledore has placed all his faith in Harry Potter and was rewarded for it.

What that prophecy really was though...

Who knows?

#harry potter #harry potter meta #harry potter headcanon #albus dumbledore #anti albus dumbledore #meta #headcanon #opinion

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teyvattherapist · 3 years

Note

Once you write for Baal, I'll request her with Mona and Kazuha with the god of fate.

Like the usual

I also added Thoma per your other inquiry!

tags: m!reader/Baal, m!reader/Mona, m!reader/Kazuha, m!reader/Thoma, God!Reader, Khaenri'ah spoilers, Inazuma archon quest spoilers, just spoilers in general.

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Khaenri’ah wouldn’t have had any survivors if it hadn’t been for a particular man that seemed unfazed by the battlefield the once prosperous nation of humanity became. Neither Khaenri’ahn nor from Celestia, simply an outlander. Despite showing great fighting prowess and strategic skill, Khaenri’ah had still fallen under the watchful gaze of the man. Of course, this was just a legend, a small rumour only known by the most curious of historians or academics. And even then, it’s debated. With the legacy of Khaenri’ah long gone, all that was left was anecdotal evidence.

Baal

-Divinity, humanity, both pale in comparison to eternity. You were nothing more than something in her way. Much like the rest of Khaenri’ah as a whole. To her you were nothing more than inferior. And she didn’t stop to take the time to investigate like Morax had nor did she take the time to recognise the marks of stars like Barbatos.

-Her ideals quickly shattered when she realised Divine Punishment means nothing when faced by another of her status. A divine being capable of braving the lightning’s glow. Too prideful to admit her defeat she proved to be quite a thorn in your side during the war. But even one whose ideal is closest unto Heaven cannot compete with the one who controlled Fate.

-Baal has all but forgotten the faraway God, too focused on her own ideals, too focused on herself in the present day to remember such an aimless point in time. In a closed off nation tucked away on the sea, talk of your presence in Teyvat went unheard by the Raiden Shogun.

The 100th vision hunt decree ceremony was commemorative. The Goddess turned to face the crowd of onlookers, violet eyes narrowing at an almost familiar face standing towards the back. You lifted your head to her, flashing the Shogun a smile before pulling the notebook from the black and gold cloak. Almost too quickly her attention turned back to the man kneeling at the foot of the statue. Her 100th vision.

Baal lifted her hand, summoning the pyro vision to her and despite the blond’s attempts at keeping his vision they were futile as it soared through the air towards the Goddess. You almost dropped your pen when Aether pushed by you, using his newfound electro abilities as a boost to snatch the vision. An interesting but not surprising turn of events that was scrawled into the notebook.

You watched as she brought her blade up to strike an unconscious Aether. The taller blond managed to get his binds off, throwing the polearm that she then deflected. The blowback caused Aether and Paimon to go flying backwards into the blond. As they ran off she gave the order to seize them under the decree, turning back to look up at the statue. That was your cue to leave, the work had been done for now.

When Baal turned to look back at the crowd she got the glimpse of that cloak that seemed to come back to haunt her departing from the crowd.

Mona

-Ah the great astrologist Mona. One who believes fate cannot be changed nor reversed, merely accepted. How funny an outlook. Though you’d never tell her that, she is for all that she’s worth, a wonderful astrologist. But that was the thing with mortal magicians, even they could get things such as fate wrong.

-She tried only once to glimpse into the mysterious stranger’s destiny. But when one has no destiny, what does she see? The threads of fate themselves have barred her vision into him. To her he is an uncertain piece in what should be absolute certainty.

-This however just makes her curious to know more. She thinks she’s being sneaky as she follows you around to try and garner more information. But Mondstadt isn’t all that big and her hat is very telling.

You narrowed your eyes at the telltale sign of somebody watching you, you lifted your head to look around but there were no more stares than the usual ones that came with being a stranger in a small nation. You did notice, however, a very familiar witch occupying herself with the fruit stand. Could she even afford that? Probably not. You bowed your head to Flora, tucking the windwheel aster behind your ear as you made off.

Mona put the apple back, waiting a few moments before she followed you down the cobblestone path. This was the problem with magicians in every world, always far too curious for their own good. You turned a corner to try and get her off your tail, you had far too much work to do to deal with her nosing around. She was smart, though. You had to give her that as you pressed your back against the wall of the alleyway, waiting for her to go by.

“I just have a question!” Mona popped her head into the alleyway, figures you wouldn’t be able to escape her. Mona looked around before stepping into the alleyway. “You are not from this world and sand clouds my vision every time I try to view your true nature. I am merely intrigued by this turn of events.” She put her hands on her hips, green eyes trying to discern something about you. She was certainly blunt, at least she knew what she wanted at the end of the day.

Her stare was intense as she tried to see through you, but whenever she looked too hard she found herself attempting to shake off invisible strings. You merely offered her a smile, what’s the point in lying to somebody you may not ever see again? “I’m a record keeper of sorts. You have impressive skill, Mona.” The compliment had her smirking, praise would be her undoing. But it at least changed the subject. What a fascinating woman.

Kazuha

-Unsurprisingly or perhaps surprisingly you met him while he fled from the Raiden Shogun’s forces. As in he ran directly into you and nearly dropped the dead vision he was still clutching in his hand. Interesting isn’t it? What a simple change of cloak can do to conceal one’s identity. Always intervening whether or not you should, that seemed to be the staple when it came to Teyvat.

-You did not spend much time with Kazuha beyond that. His path was his to walk and you would not meddle further. Though you knew that he knew, somebody as observant as he would be able to tell, wouldn’t he?

-That was a while ago though. Now you once more found yourself face to face with Kaedehara Kazuha. Or well, less face to face and more in the same area.

“I hope you can afford all these mercs!” Beidou called as she and her crew rushed into battle against the Shogun’s forces. Far enough away to not involve yourself, but close enough to listen to the resulting conversations. You jotted things down, whatever seemed important in the moment, minor details you may forget, a rough draft, if one will.

Kazuha lifted his head after greeting Gorou, eyes scanning the rocks jutting out of the nearby sea on the beach that had become a location of endless bloodshed. And for a moment, he faltered, red eyes widening before narrowing. He should have expected this. You always seemed to be where big things happened. “Kazuha, watch out!” Beidou warned and Kazuha snapped out of it, returning to the battle.

The rain began to start and you safely tucked your notebook away as you watched the rest of the battle. Ultimately Sara called back her forces when Kokomi showed up, the Shogun’s army quickly retreating from the bloody battlefield to rethink their strategy. You held your hand up, rain soaking through your glove. The battlefield cleared itself of most soldiers, Gorou, Beidou, Kazuha, two soldiers, and Aether remained to talk to one another.

Kazuha turned, looking over his shoulder and back at the sea around him. He wondered if you’d come, help like you had helped him back then. He lifted a bandaged hand, no doubt the same hand you had once given him bandages to cover the injury from clasping a dying vision. In turn you gave him a wave. All these people whose lives you have impacted in some way or another. Small things here and there. You wondered how much he knew of your deeds.

Thoma

“State your business here!”

“Oh- he’s a friend! He’s with us.” Aether interrupted the teahouse lady before she could say anything else. The woman huffed but conceded, allowing you to move past her and towards Aether and the taller blond from the ceremony. The teahouse door was opened and you stepped inside with them, pulling your notebook out to take notes. “Thoma, Ayaka this is… Well he doesn’t have a name.” Aether turned his head to look at you and you merely shrugged.

“You may refer to me as the Recordkeeper. Ha, that’s kind of like the Doctor.. I’ll have to write that down.” You make a note in the front of your notebook. Ayaka, Thoma, and Paimon look confused but Aether understood the reference. At least. “I’m merely here to listen. Pretend I’m not here, yes?” And with reassurance from your traveler friend, they did just that. You noted their plans, their ideals, where they’d go. It was all fascinating. A resistance against a God. The last time that happened…

You shook the thoughts, that was then, this is now. You cannot get involved again. Ayaka stood to leave, saying her goodbyes. Aether was gone next, a promise to meet again. That left you with Thoma. “Are you sure you don’t have a name? I feel a job title shouldn’t be a name.” He joked, leaning on his elbows as he watched you write into your notebook. Your pen stopped against the pages, the edge of the D growing thicker. “At least, I think that’s your job, right?”

You looked up from your book, setting the pen down against the pages. He was curious to say the least, despite everything that happened earlier. “I suppose it is my job, yes. I keep records. And I’m known by many names Fate Weaver, the Recordkeeper, God of Fate, I believe I’ve also been referred to as the God of Time once.. That’d be incorrect though.” For a moment something unrecognisable passes through his green eyes before his smile is back on his face.

“How about we call you (Name)? That way you don’t have to admit what and who you really are everywhere you go.”

“(Name)? Hm.. Very well.”

#Baal x reader #Mona x reader #Kazuha x reader #Thoma x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #God of Fate #he's back!#asks #anonymous #Lane Writes #thoma is ur new bff #p3 #btw

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kay-diggle · 3 years

Text

The Promise Ring

Summary: Some promises are broken, some promises remain intact, and new promises are made.

Pairing: Jungkook x Female Reader

Genre & Rating: Angst, Smut, Hint of Fluff, 18+

Warnings: oral (m. recieving), somewhat dom!jungkook (he’s actually a big softie) sub!reader, hairpulling, mentions of jealousy, overstimulation, vaginal intercourse, unprotected sex (pls pls pls stay safe guys!)

Length: 4.2k

Notes: I apologize that the first fic I post in months is so terrible (it highkey feels like it’s all over the place but that’s okay!) If you somehow enjoy this... please let me know! I’m still kinda in hiatus bc of school btw :( {Requests are closed}

Kay-Diggle’s Ultimate Masterlist

Before

“It’s so pretty out here tonight,” you commented on the beautiful scenery in front of you. You were laid across your boyfriend’s lap while he leaned back, both taking in the view.

For your four year anniversary, Jungkook took you out to a clearing that overlooks the city. You had a late night picnic, eating your favorite foods while sharing some of your favorite memories from the past four years you’ve been together.

“Yea… but you’re prettier.”

“Ugh, corrrnnyyyy,” you whined despite feeling yourself begin to blush.

“Yea, but you love it,” he placed a sweet kiss on your forehead. “And I think this is the perfect time to give you your anniversary gift babe!”

“No! I definitely told you I did not want a gift this year.”

“Well that is definitely too bad because I got you one anyways,” he countered, playful as ever.

He sat up, reaching into the pocket of his jeans. It was hard to see since it was dark outside, but when you clearly saw the velvet black box, you felt a rush of all different types of emotions exploding within you. Upon seeing your shocked face, he stupidly grinned before opening the box, confirming your suspicions about what was inside.

“Jungkook….” your jaw dropped as you looked at the most beautiful diamond ring you had ever seen.

“Y/n,” his hand found yours, “I love you so much baby. These past four years have been…. just, so amazing that it’s kind of hard to put into words, ya know? But the one thing I can tell you for sure is that we were meant to be together. You were literally made for me -- my handcrafted destiny. And I promise you that will never change. I promise that I will never stop loving you, I’ll never hurt you. I promise you that I will never break your heart.”

Nothing could stop the way tears pooled into your eyes at his heartfelt words. You were speechless, only being able to mouth the words ‘I love you’ while Jungkook began laughing at you while wiping away your tears.

“I know what you’re thinking but it’s not that, so don’t freak out! It’s a promise ring,” he took your left hand, placing said ring on your finger.

You couldn’t even focus on his words, you just wanted to hug him. And so you did. As soon as he slipped the ring on your finger, you were wrapping him in your arms and tackling him to the ground, crying while laughing at the same time while he laughed with you.

“Did you even hear me just now?” he chuckled.

“Yes, not a proposal, but a promise ring,” you nodded.

“Okay. Just keep in mind I will ask you to marry me one day,” he smirked.

"And I, Y/n, promise you, Jungkook, that when that day does come, I'll say yes. If you would've asked me tonight I would have said yes with no hesitation."

“Well then, I can’t wait for that day, hm?”

“Yeah, me neither.”

And that night, the two of you made love outside, underneath the stars.

Now

When you walked into the room you felt your stomach drop. Seeing your ex-boyfriend’s face months after the worst break up you’ve ever had instead of his best friend who you were planning to meet up with was not what you were expecting when you opened the door.

“You’re not Namjoon,” a deep frown set on your face.

“I know. I asked him to get you here. Y/n, please… just hear me out.”

“No Jungkook,” you shook your head. “I believe you said enough the last time we saw each other, yea?”

You turned, placing your hand on the doorknob and turning it. Before you could fully open it, you felt a force push it back closed with Jungkook’s strong presence behind you, his hand pressed against the door above your head.

“Y/n. Stay.”

He whispered it in your ear and although he said it in a commanding voice, his voice was strained almost as if he was begging. You stood completely still for a moment, your heart and mind battling against each other even though you already knew their fight was pointless. In the end, your heart always made you cave.

You turned to face him, realizing that you were completely trapped between him and the door, you quickly became uncomfortable. Fuck your stupid heart for not being able to resisit the man who broke it.

“What do you want?”

“I miss you.”

You scoffed at that.

“Well that’s something you could have communicated over the phone rather than creating this whole elaborate plan with Namjoon and getting him to lure me all the way to this hotel.”

“You realize that you blocked me… on everything, right? I can’t communicate anything to you,” he rolled his eyes.

“Yes, I realize that. And I did that for a reason. What part of ‘I never want to hear from you or see you again’ did you not understand from when we broke up?”

“Oh I understood that shit perfectly and I still think it’s fucking bogus.”

“Yea of fucking course you would. You know that was always your problem. You never see things from my point of view.”

“Oh and what point of view would that be? Starting arguments over nothing because you’re bored to the point where we had to actually BREAK UP?”

“Bored Jungkook? Really? I assure you that if I was really bored I would’ve found better ways of occupying my time than arguing with your ass over the same shit.”

“Oh get real Y/n.”

“No, you get real!! Your head is so far up your fucking ass that eight months later you still can’t see what you did wrong.”

“There’s nothing to see! I didn’t do anything!!”

“Jungkook I fucking told you on multiple occasions that I didn’t appreciate you entertaining that girl when she flirted with you! You know, the one who was only supposed to be a close FRIEND?!?”

“Jesus Christ y/n, you act as if I FUCKED her. I didn’t even flirt back!” he stepped back from you, crossing his arms under his chest.

“IT DOESN’T FUCKING MATTER! Do you understand how it made me feel?? How she would whisper with her friends, talk shit about OUR relationship and I just had to sit back and listen. OH but the ONE time I get drunk and flirt with Taehyung in a moment of weakness, suddenly I was the villain. Suddenly I destroyed our relationship and was all types of whores and sluts. Honestly Jungkook, you can go to hell.”

“You flirted with my BEST FRIEND y/n.. Basically offered to suck his dick. I’m sorry, was I not supposed to get angry?”

“No but I definitely wasn’t expecting you to disrespect me by calling me out of my name Jungkook!”

“I APOLOGIZED! I apologized as soon as I realized what I said. And I’ll apologize again if that’s what it’ll take to-”

“No you don’t have to do shit. I’m leaving. I can’t believe I even stayed this long. Ugh, this is my problem. I’m always too nice to people who don’t deserve my kindness,” your words came out venomous.

Jungkook bared his teeth, visibly upset before he walked towards you, forcing your body back into the wall.

“No your problem was you never wanted to fucking talk. It was ALWAYS arguing with you. EVEN NOW! I invited you here to have a conversation and look at what you started!”

“No YOU started it!” you poked your finger into his chest. “You knew exactly what would happen if we saw each other again which is exactly why you got me here under false pretenses. This is all your fault,” you screamed. “Everything. Was. Your. Fault.” you poked his chest with each word.

Jungkook grabbed the finger you kept poking him with and it made you audibly gasp. He stared down at you with a look that came across as angry but having been in this position with him before, you could also notice a slight hint of lust in his eyes.

He let go of your finger before gently pushing his palm into your chest, making your back hit the door and grabbing your wrists, holding them against the door.

“Listen. To. Me,” he spoke slowly. “I am not putting up with your attitude tonight so stop.”

“Make me.”

It was like clock work, the way the two simple words you uttered set him off. He let go of one of your wrists to wrap his hand around your neck, choking you lightly and bent down to whisper in your breath.

“Stop fucking playing with me Y/N. You already know what happens when you do that shit.”

“Hmm… well it has been eight months. Maybe you need to refresh my memory?” you challenged.

Jungkook grunted out of frustration before tightening his grip on your throat and kissing you. The kiss was rushed and furious, much different than the ones you’ve shared with him in the past. No matter how upset he was with you, his lips were always gentle on your skin, but this was completely different. He forced his tongue into your mouth and bit on your lips so hard you were worried he would draw blood.

His other hand let go of your wrist, trailing it up your thigh to squeezing your waist and ultimately groping your ass while giving your lips a break to attack the sweet spots on your neck instead.

“Fuck….” you moaned out when his hand began squeezing your breasts, brushing against your hard nipples.

“You like when I play with your tits?”

“Nope,” you spit out. “You’re barely doing anything for me right now.”

“Hmm well you wanna know what I like? When you can’t talk. How about we shut you up.”

He shrugged off his jacket, placing it on the floor before pushing you to your knees. Having been in this position before, you reacted automatically, rubbing his length through his pants a little. You unbuckled his belt and undid his pants before pulling them and his boxers down just enough to reveal his semi hard dick. After finally seeing it again after months, it would be a lie to say you didn’t miss it.

“Suck. Now.”

At his command, you looked up at him while wrapping your hand around his base, letting spit drip from your mouth onto him to make him wet. You moved your hand up and down his length a bit before finally taking him into your mouth, You let your tongue run on the underside of his dick from base to tip before wrapping your lips around his tip and lightly sucking, just like you knew he liked. You looked up at him, covering your teeth with your lips and taking his length further in your throat. One of his hands found purchase in your hair, guiding you up and down his length while his other was spread against the door as if using it to hold himself up. You felt him twitch in your mouth before there was a knock at the door.

“Jungkook? Y/n? I just came to make sure you guys didn’t kill each other in here,” Namjoon joked wearily.

“Yup! All good,” came Jungkook’s hasty response when he felt you take in his length completely, deepthroating him.

“I see you’re acting out for Namjoon,” he whispered looking down at your teasing face before using your hair to push you further down and hold you there.

After a few seconds he let you up, coughing up spit while gasping for air loud enough that Namjoon could hear.

“Jungkook what was that? Where’s y/n?”

“She’s here. She’s fine. We’re working it out. Bye Namjoon!” Jungkook made you go back to sucking his cock after letting you get a few breaths.

“Maybe I should come in and mediate….” Namjoon contemplated, completely unaware of what was happening on the other side of the room.

“Unless you want to see her choking on my dick, maybe now is not the best time Namjoon,” Jungkook was starting to get annoyed.

“Oh… in that case.. I’ll just get going I guess…. Glad to hear you two are.. Working it out?” Both you and Jungkook could hear Namjoon taking off in the opposite direction of the room. It made you giggle a little bit, vibrating against Jungkook’s cock. Nearly cumming down your throat at the feeling, he slapped his hand against the door before using your hair to pull your mouth off of him.

His hand wrapped around your arm, pulling your body back into a standing position before capturing your lips in a heated kiss again.

“Fucking Namjoon….” Jungkook trailed off, his hands now exploring your body again. “And why the fuck were you coming to see Namjoon dressed like this?” He asked, referring to the tiny black dress you were wearing that barely covered your ass.

You replied with the most petty thing you could think of. “I don’t know. Maybe it was so that I could finally fuck one of your best friends, like I was accused of doing.”

Jungkook gritted his teeth, yet again visibly annoyed with you. “And how should I fuck you fuck, hm? Should I fuck you against the door? Make you scream my name? Make sure everyone in this hotel knows how much you’ve fucking missed me?”

His fingers traveled under your dress and pulled your soaked panties to the side, easily slipping a finger into you and then adding another beginning to fuck you

“Ah, shit!”

“Answer the question.”

“Fuck! Yes, fuck me wherever you like”

At that, he quickly ripped your underwear off your body and pulled your dress off, wanting as much access to your bare skin as possible. He pulled the rest of his pants off as you tugged his shirt off and threw it across the room.

He pushed you completely against the door and raised one of your legs to wrap around his waist. Taking his length in his hand, he slapped it against your clit a few times, smirking at you as you whimpered at the feeling. He rubbed his length against your wet folds until you couldn’t take it anymore.

“Jungkook,” you were annoyed.

“Yes?” He looked at you with a sly smile on his face.

“Just put it in!”

“Beg me first.”

“You’re so goddamn irritating.”

“Now Y/n, is that any way to talk to someone who can give you what you so desperately need?” His condescending tone of voice only worked to aggravate you further, but you not wanting to waste anymore time, you gave in.

“Please Jungkook! Please fuck me. I can’t wait anymore, it’s been too long. Please i- I need you!”

He pressed your waist further into the door before finally sliding inside of you.

“I don’t want to hear anything out of your mouth that isn’t you begging or my name,” he whispered in your ear as he began to fuck you, his movements made easier by your wetness. “No talking back.” Hard Thrust. “No smart ass comments.” Hard thrust. “Nothing.”

When he began pounding into you, you lost your footing, almost slipping. With a grunt, Jungkook grabbed both of your thighs, hoisting you up against the door and trapping you under his body. With this new position, he spread your legs further, now being able to go deeper within you. When you felt his tip repeatedly nudge the spongy spot within you, you let out your loudest sound yet, a combination of Jungkook’s name and a moan. He apparently thought it was too loud because he covered your mouth with the palm.

“Be quiet” he whispered in your ear harshly.

You wrapped your hand around his wrist, moving his palm so that you could speak. “‘I’m sorry, it’s just so good, ugh fuck.”

“Yea, bubby? Did you miss me fucking this tight pussy? Missed me pounding into you just the way you like?”

The cute pet name he used to call you when you were in a relationship completely flew over your head. The only thing you could focus on was the way his cock felt sliding against your walls, throbbing inside of you.

“God, please! Please make me cum.”

“You wanna cum? You missed cumming all over my cock right?”

“Fuck yes! God,” you cried out when he went harder, your body banging into the door with every thrust.

Jungkook was too busy holding your body up so he could fuck you properly, so you one of the hands that was gripping his shoulders down to your throbbing clit, rubbing it so that you could bring yourself to your end. Jungkook’s eyes traveled down to where your fingers were working, biting his lip at the sight.

“Mmhmm, yes bubby. Rub that little pretty clit of yours. Are you gonna make yourself cum, hmm? Be a good girl for once and make yourself cum for me?”

“Yes.. yes, I’m gonna cum so hard Jungkook, just for you! Ahhh, fucckkkk” You were spewing so many words in your moment of bliss that you couldn’t even recall what you were saying.Your legs trembled while your hands wrapped around Jungkook’s wrist as he fucked you through your high. Your entire body felt overwhelmed as you came, especially when Jungkook kissed you while you were still shaking all over his dick, making it even harder for you to breathe.

Disconnecting your lips so you could both catch a breath, jungkook asked “You came so hard, can you take more?”

“Yes. Please, I need more.” Jungkook could see in your eyes how fucked out you were. The look you gave him had his cock throbbing so hard that he felt he could cum in that exact moment.

He carried your limp body to the bed on the other side of the room, placing you down on the edge and instructing you to move up towards the headboard, holding back a laugh as he watched you struggle to crawl with your worn out legs.

He joined you on the bed, sitting on his knees between your spread legs, touching himself at the sight of your post-orgasm face and glistening wetness. Watching him bite his lip and touch himself while looking you dead in the eye had your worn out pussy whimpering for him again, demanding more, and you couldn’t wait. You wrapped your legs around his waist, prompting him to hover over you, hands right beside your head to hold himself up.

“Do you want it?”

You quickly nodded your head.

“Words, bubby.”

“Yes Jungkook.”

And then you both watched as he slid his length back inside of your cavern. Compared to his fast and rough thrust earlier, these were slower and more calculated. He was grinding into you in a way where you could feel his pelvis brush against your clit every time he moved deeper into you. You cried out to him again from the overstimulation.

“You okay y/n?” he questioned, not stopping his movements.

“Yea, just sensitive. Please don’t stop,” you begged,

“I promise I won’t. I don’t ever want to stop….”

You couldn’t focus on his words while he moved inside you. All you could do is let the moans roll out of your mouth that hung wide open. And all Jungkook could do was watch, thinking about how much he missed this. How much he missed you.

He lowered his body so that he was basically laying on top of you, one hand gripping your waist while the other gripped the sheet next to your head. He rolled his hips into you at a faster pace and you couldn’t help but fling your arms around him, holding on tight. He dropped his forehead to yours and you finally looked at him, really looked at him without the lust clouding your eyes. You were still able to read him the same way you always could. You finally noticed the drop in his earlier dominant persona and how he became softer with the way he touched you.

You felt his love radiating through you. He was making love to you.

“Fuck y/n, I’ve missed you so much.”

“Jungkook … please, please don’t. Please just fuck me,” you begged. You couldn’t do this. You weren’t ready to face your feelings.

“I can’t just fuck you. I want more. I want you.” Both of his hands found their way to yours, locking your fingers together while looking each other in the eye. “I only want you. It’s all I’ve ever wanted. I love you, bubby. I’ve never stopped… ugh, I promised I never would.”

His sudden confession made all of the emotions you thought you had locked away for the past eight months come back. You were crying. You were sobbing under the guise of pleasure.. It was all too bittersweet. Jungkook was simultaneously making your body feel good but your heart feel so sad.

You couldn’t speak. You didn’t have the words. You just clamped your walls around him, pushing you both towards your climaxes. He squeezed your hands when he felt his balls tighten and cock throb, kissing you and groaning against your mouth as he came inside of you. He left open mouthed kisses on your face and down your body. This time, it was his fingers on your clit that brought you to your second end, all while whispering sweet, meaningful words in your ear about how beautiful you were and how much he misses you. It made your orgasm more intense, your feelings overriding your senses as you spasmed around his now soft cock inside of you.

When he finally pulled out, he kissed you deeply for only a second, hugging your body closer to his and wiping your tears away as you both tried to catch your breath yet again. When the stickiness of your lower body began to feel as heavy as your heart and to Jungkook’s dismay, you got out of the bed and went into the bathroom, taking some time to clean up and silently sob into your hand before splashing water onto your tear stained cheek. You weren’t prepared for what would happen when you walked out the door and faced your ex lover again, but you knew you couldn’t avoid it either.

Exiting the bathroom you saw Jungkook already dressed and you scanned the room for your clothing which was mostly by the door. Jungkook silently watched as you dressed yourself and when he saw the look on your face when you turned around, he shot out of the bed and rushed towards you.

“Marry me.”

Your jaw dropped. “Jungkook…. What? Are you insane?!?”

When he brought his hand into your line of sight, you recognized the item you threw at his chest eight months ago as you packed your bags and prepared to leave him. The cursed promise ring.

“Do you remember when I gave this to you? I promised you that one day I would ask you to marry me. Well today is that day…... Do you remember what you promised me?”

“Jungkook… “

“What did you promise me y/n?” he was desperate.

“I promised- I promised that I would say yes when you asked,” you mumbled, eyesight being blocked by fresh tears.

“Well I’m asking,” he got down on one knee. “Y/n, will you marry me?”

“This isn’t fair,” you sobbed. “I said that when we were still together. Things have changed Jungkook.”

“Oh really? What’s changed y/n? We haven’t been together for a few months, but who cares. The only thing that matters is that our feelings haven’t been affected by our time apart. And they never will be. We’re always going to be in love. I promised you that.”

Jungkook was crying himself at this point, and it broke you. Your head and heart were once again at war, but that didn’t matter. Nothing else could matter to you when the love of your life was on one knee in front of you, professing his undying love for you and asking you to spend the rest of your life with him. Your heart and your mind ultimately knew that he was right. Your feelings for him never changed, and they never would. There was no point trying to fight it. And yea he might have broken a promise or two, but he was making good on them now, and that was all that mattered.

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, before mumbling out a small “Yes.”

When you opened your eyes, your new fiancé looked dumbfounded with the brightest smile you had ever seen on him. He cried out in joy before coming off his knee, lifting you up in his arms and twirling you around before trapping your face in his hands and kissing you as if his life depended on it. You couldn’t help but laugh as you wiped both his and your own tears away.

“Was this your whole plan? To propose to me tonight?”

“It was,” he grinned. “Now that I know what my life is like without you in it, I’m never letting you go again. And that’s a promise.”

#bts #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook #jungkook imagine #jungkook fic #jungkook fanfic #jungkook oneshot #bts oneshot #dom!jungkook #sub!reader #jungkook x y/n #jungkook x reader smut #jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook

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the-insomniac-emporium · 3 years

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Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 11

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: Nope! Notes: Here we are, a breath away from the end. This features not one, but FOUR songs written by myself. If you only choose to listen to one of them, listen to the final one (Cradle of Heaven), as it is a duet I wrote specifically for this fanfiction, as something that the reader wrote to play together with Daniela. The links to these songs will be within the fanfiction itself, at relevant times. Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy, Pt. 7: Harmony, Pt. 8: Obbligato, Pt. 9: Berceuse, Pt. 10b: Hymn AMAB

Chapter 11: Cadence

(Cadence: Two chords that mark the end of a song)

The stage is set, the lights are dimmed, your heart pounds within your chest, and the world is yours. Soon, it will be Daniela’s. She is right by your side, as ever, hand gently taking hold of your own. There’s a silent reassurance in her grip, a reminder that the two of you have overcome a plethora of challenges. A promise that this will be no different. Both of you take a deep breath, in sync, before exchanging a quick kiss. All of your hard work has been leading up to the coming moments. Although you are beyond confident in your lover’s abilities, there is a shadow of doubt in the back of your mind. Not for her sake, but surrounding the expectations held by her mother, the standard against which you would be measured.

“Come hell or high water, Songbird, I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise,” Daniela whispers, squeezing your hand again, eyes unblinking as they stare into yours. “You’ve made every right choice, worked harder than anyone I know, and there is nothing more I can ask of you… except another kiss to celebrate afterwards, that is.” Giggling in response gives you the moment you need to relax, nerves fading into the background of your mind. “Now let’s put on a show the likes of which my mother has never seen, mhmm?”

THREE HOURS EARLIER:

“Here, you can borrow my brooch. It’s been in the family for generations, since before we even came to the village, passed down starting with an ancestor who crafted it himself, from materials he scavenged while fleeing his home country,” Daphne rambles, helping you attach the jewelry to your shirt. Thankfully, her hands do not tremble nearly as much as yours have been for the past hour. “I’m more than sure that Lady Daniela will tell you this much, but I feel the need to repeat just how good you look right now. I don’t know where the hell they’ve been hiding this version of our uniform, but damn do I wish I could get one for my next date with Ygritte. Seriously, if you can get one in my size, please do me that favor.”

“Anything for my best friend. Especially after all the times you’ve saved my ass these past few months,” you reply, pausing to give her shoulder an affectionate pat. If not for her constant interference running, someone would have certainly found out about your relationship with Daniela. “Speaking of that… of my life being on the line, I mean… no matter what happens today, no matter what Lady Dimitrescu decides, take care of yourself. You’ve gambled with your own blood to keep me safe, but what I’ve done, what I’ve risked, those were my choices. My consequences. The last thing I’d ever want is for you to pay for them, somehow.”

Rolling her eyes, Daphne gives you a playful shove to the chest, before smoothing out the fabric of your dress uniform. Now she refuses to meet your gaze, a familiar mistiness taking over her brown eyes.

“Nobody around here is stupid enough to think you’ll die today. You managed to get Lady Daniela, of all people, to stay focused long enough to learn some absolutely beautiful pieces of music. You have proved, time and time again, that you are a talented musician, teacher, and ‘servant’. So get out there and kick some metaphorical ass, my friend, because you are ready,” she finally says, offering you what seems to be a handshake. But as soon as your hand meets hers, she’s pulling you in for a hug, holding you tight for a solid minute. When at last you part, you give her what may very well be the last smile she’d ever see gracing your lips.

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

A hand’s edge against xer forehead, parallel to the ground, kept perfectly flat. From anyone else, it would be mockery. From xer? Honest salute, solidarity in a traditional form, accompanied by a sharp-toothed grin. Mimicking the expression, you wave at Ava, glad to see that xe would be awake for your concert. After your first night with your girlfriend, Daphne had helped arrange for someone to be your “cover story” for sleeping outside of your usual quarters. With Daniela’s input (and jealousy), only one candidate had revealed themselves, in the form of a (conveniently) mute butler with an inconsistent schedule, love of mischief, and somehow the respect of the Dimitrescu family. Now, xe appeared ready to escort you to the location of your trial by fire.

“Are you sure our mutual friend won’t be upset to see the two of us together?” You teased, knowing full well that Ava was one of the only people that Daniela trusted 100% around you. In response, xe gives an exaggerated shrug, then quickly links xer arm with your own. Together you march onwards to your destiny, amused by the way xe practically skipped down the hallway. Maybe there was a certain wisdom to xer shenanigans, a carefree philosophy that encouraged laughter in the face of death, and you embraced the thought with a smile.

Before long, however, the two of you encounter another unlikely pair headed towards the same destination: Lady Cassandra, looking somewhat embarrassed, with an unfamiliar maiden at her side. Their hands are clutching each other desperately, although neither of them dares to look at the other. Instead they both watch you closely from where they’ve paused in the corridor. Oddly unfazed, Ava gives them a short bow of acknowledgement, earning xer a brief nod from Cassandra. Seeming eager to move on, she addresses you quickly before gesturing for you to keep walking.

“Good luck. Don’t fuck this up for Daniela, or I’ll never hear the end of it,” she growls, doing her best to downplay her obvious concern. Wanting to let her keep up with her facade, you merely give a nod as you resume walking towards the concert stage. Soft footsteps behind you let you know that the strange pair are accompanying you. Still walking alongside you, Ava repeatedly glances behind you, putting out xer hands in the shape of a heart, giggling all the while. If you didn’t know any better, you would almost assume that xe wanted to get hit by Cassandra.

“Ava, please calm down. If you’re not careful, she’ll throw something at you. If she does that, you’ll probably dodge, and then I’ll probably end up getting hit, and then I’ll miss the concert, Lady Dimitrescu will kill me as punishment, Daniela will be sad and whiny about it, and none of you will have any peace for, like, a month. Three weeks, bare mims,” you tease, nudging xer in the ribs. Emphasizing a pout, xe sends one last look at Cassandra and her ‘friend’ (whose hand she was still holding onto like a lifeline), mouthing words you couldn’t parse. Based on the way Cassandra groans, it was something ridiculously cheesy. Regardless, xe behaves the rest of the way there…

ONE MINUTE TO SHOWTIME:

“I love you, Firefly, and I know that you’re going to do absolutely amazing out there. I’m so proud of you,” you murmur, pressing a feather-light kiss to Daniela’s cheek. As dearly as you wish to stay behind the curtain, in her arms, you know that the show was inevitable. With one last nod to your beloved, you part the fabric shielding you, stepping into the spotlight. Imaginary crowds grow hushed at your appearance, a sea of faces greeting you warmly. In truth, there are but five members in this audience, each gazing upon you with veiled interest. Donning you best presentation persona, you set this final act in motion. “Lady Dimitrescu, Lady Cassandra, Lady Bela, and Mx. Caldwell, it brings me great pleasure to present to you, on this day, a concert performed by your own Lady Daniela. For three months now I have acted as her instructor, and these three months have been, perhaps, the most rewarding of my entire life. I could not possibly be any more proud of her than I already am. Now, without further ado… let us begin!”

Stepping to the side, a tug of a rope has the curtains parting entirely, revealing your beloved, waiting ready at the piano. All at once your audience (including Cassandra’s partner, acting as a mere servant in the background) sits up with wide smiles. They look Daniela over, taking in the sight of her fanciest dress, and the way her eyes light up with joy. By the time her fingers begin dancing away at the keys, there is not a single ounce of anxiety in your entire soul. This first song is a relic from your past, a representation of an abandoned idea, yet she plays it like a celebration. It’s fast, hits hard, a bold take right out of the gate. Admittedly, it is also somewhat short. Nonetheless, it serves its purpose, igniting a spark of excitement in those present. Once the song ends, Daniela is surprised by the intensity of her family’s applause. In the back of her mind, she trembles with excitement, knowing that the best was yet to come.

Riding this wave of pride, she immediately settles into the next song, something slower but far grander. Affection thrums inside your chest as you watch your pupil perfectly execute another piece. You can only imagine what her mother must be feeling, to see just how far her daughter has come in such a short amount of time. A quick glance in Alcina’s direction reveals the barest hints towards her being impressed. For now that was enough to satisfy you. Soon enough her face would twist in surprise, as the second song ended, and a new face steps up onto the stage: Lady Bela. Wordlessly she retrieves her violin from the back of the stage, then turns to the front with a mischievous smile.

“Now, a duet! Presenting the ever-talented Lady Bela, to join Lady Daniela for a rendition of an original song, dubbed ‘Northern Lights’. Enjoy!” You call out, before once more taking your place at the side. While Daniela did not need you to count her in for her solo performances, this feels ever so slightly more important, and as such you do your best to conduct for the duration of the song. If either of the performers need it, they hide it well. Honestly, you weren’t sure if your girlfriend had looked your way even a single time so far. ‘Twas incredible to witness her. Akin to a siren, near glowing, taking to the stage as if born to grace its center. Even with Bela working her own magic, Daniela is ever the star. Together they weave a lovely song, notes rising high into the air, swirling around an enchanted audience.

When it ends, both performers give a bow, as if the entire affair had come to a close. Without hinting at what was to come, you switch places with the eldest Dimitrescu daughter. A deep breath rattles your ribcage as you find your center, reaching out to take Daniela’s hand, the two of you raising your arms upward in a display of union. For the first time this evening, Lady Alcina narrows her eyes in what feels like disapproval. But you pay her no mind. Instead you sit alongside your beloved, quietly settling into your practiced position.

There is no introduction for this song. No announcement, no showmanship, nor even a countdown into the symphony. Simply, like exhaling a breath, the two of you start to play. Your phrases echo hers, and vice versa, calling and answering, accompanying all the while, natural as anything holy in the wild. ‘Tis the second shortest song of the night, only long enough to showcase the degree of your partnership with Daniela. As the song crescendos into an ending, you manage to meet the gaze of your employer. Perhaps it is merely an illusion of hope, or a reflection of lights above, but you swear you see tears in her eyes.

“Outstanding, incredible,” she praises, rising to her feet alongside her other daughters, clapping all the while. Once again you rise to your feet, hand clasped with Daniela’s, bowing as deeply as you can manage. Before you can even process what’s happening, your girlfriend is being pulled away from you, swept up into the arms of her mother. Desperation digs like a knife into your heart, as you ache to celebrate with her, but you remain ever in the guise of a professional. “You did amazing, my dear. I cannot begin to describe how proud I am.” The family gathers around each other, buzzing with affection fit to make the hardest of hearts melt. You are left on the outside, awkwardly waiting, without a hint of acknowledgment.

Even if this concert was a measure of your skill as a teacher, Lady Dimitrescu had never bothered to consider you more than another servant. This night was about Daniela. About your secret girlfriend, the brightest star in all the skies. That is not something that bothers you, nor does it surprise you. All that makes you wish to weep is the desire to kiss her. To sweep her into your arms, with celebratory kisses, singing her name as a praise to higher powers. In the end, it takes several minutes for Daniela to pull away enough to move back to you, and even then she cannot give you the reaction she yearns for.

“I’ll come by to talk to you tonight, I promise,” she whispers, as she gives you the weakest hug you have ever felt. Then she is returning to her family, clinging to her mother with a massive grin. Soon enough you are left alone on stage, quiet surrounding you, mixed feelings gnawing at the pit of your stomach. Something feels… wrong. You cannot put a name to it. No one has hinted to you what your beloved has planned, for none but her even have a clue. As soon as she is alone with her mother, as soon as she has the smallest sliver of an opportunity, she knows what she must do. “Mother… we need to talk. I... I have a confession to make.”

#daniela dimitrescu x reader #daniela dimitrescu #resident evil: village #re8 village #avaskian caldwell #cliffhanger #sorry folks #not beta read

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altruistic-meme · 3 years

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AFTG fic recs

Hi all! I just wanted to share some of my all-time favorite fanfics for aftg, for no real reason other than I want more people to read them and send their love to the authors :)

Under a readmore because it got. A little long. But please enjoy!

WIPs

Dangerous Habits by LovelyLittleGrim ( @lovelylittlegrim )

Andrew has run into problems while on undercover jobs before. None of those problems were anything like the troublesome runaway that is one Nathaniel Wesninski

Aka: the fic where Andrew is undercover as a hitman for hire and Neil is the guy who hires him. Things get complicated from there.

Undercover Andrew? BAMF Neil? Hitman AU?? Absolutely. I’m in love. The story is just *chef kisses*

Chapters: 8/9

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, past rape/non-con, Drake Spear (who is his own warning), Butcher Neil,

Negotiations by elesary ( @elesary )

This is what Andrew Minyard knows: his brother is dead, killed by a petty Raven prince who has never learned to keep his hands off of Andrew's things. His brother's daughters are his responsibility, a job that is made infinitely harder when their shitty grandparents want custody. Nathaniel Wesninski is a liar, but he might be the only way to avenge Aaron and protect his nieces. All Andrew has to do is watch Nathaniels - Neil's- back as he carves out his own life and identity from everyone who thinks they own him.

Andrew has always been good at upholding his end of the bargain, has he finally found someone willing to uphold theirs?

This fic has got me fucked up, honestly. I’m emotional over it. It’s fantastic.

Chapters: 11/?

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, attempted sexual assault, Butcher Neil,

the upper hand by plantelty ( @plantelty )

Shortly after losing his mother, Neil arrives in the small town of Palmetto, South Carolina, alone in the world and with an impossible plan to carry through.

At the age of eighteen, Andrew ends up helping a boy stage his own death.

Just two fucked up boys learning to trust each other during the course of a summer, but also: multiple references to songs, twinyard angst (Nicky tries his best), The Plotting of Neil Josten's Gruesome Demise, and shit hitting the fan in a variety of ugly ways!

The cliffhanger has got me on the edge of my seat, but it is 100% worth the read and the wait for the last chapter!!

Chapters: 10/11

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Canon typical violence,

The Butcher’s House by Fire_Bear ( @fire-bear )

Andrew thought something was odd with the house the Foxes had to move into after their Athletes' House had been burnt down. He just wasn't prepared for what was actually wrong with it.

For this was a house full of monsters.

Ghost story! Ghost story! Ghost story! I literally think about this fic every other day, it’s fantastic.

Chapters: 6/?

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: character death (major or minor is unclear), injuries,

Promise of an Unbroken Boy by elesary ( @elesary )

Neil is caught by the police with Mary's burning body and is sent to juvie in Oakland where he is assigned to share a cell with one Andrew Doe, who promises him Exy, if only Neil will tell him all of his secrets. With no access to tinted contacts and hair dye, he agrees, it's only a matter of time until he's killed after all. What does he have to lose?

But Andrew's found someone who knows what a promise means, and he'll be damned if he lets that go without a fight.

Ngl this is definitely in my very top favorites -- I LOVE the idea of Neil and Andrew meeting pre-series, and this fic just BLEW my expectations for that plotline out of the waters

Chapters: 14/?

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, Underage, attempted rape/non-con, canon-typical violence,

~~~~~~~~~

Complete

The Nameless Monster by kanekicure ( @kanekicure )

Nathaniel Wesninski wants nothing more than to see his father dead and buried. But when his father promises him the title of The Butcher, Nathaniel quickly realizes that his destiny of following in his father's footsteps is closer than ever before.

So of course, when he gets forced to go undercover for the Baltimore police, he starts seeing what living could truly be.

Andrew Minyard is a newly recruited police officer for the worst precinct in Baltimore, who is dedicated on hunting down the notorious Butcher and his unnamed underling. But when Neil Josten is thrown into his midst as his civilian consultant; he starts to realize some things don't quite appear as they seem.

I love the story telling -- the secret identities, the plotting, everything.

Chapters: 14/14

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence, Butcher Neil, implied/referenced rape/non-con, implied/referenced child abuse, implied/referenced slef-harm (I believe there is a scene that is somewhat detailed on this subject), some characters also get drugged at one point,

that’s just something people say by nanatsuyu ( @theoctopusnods )

Neil makes the mistake of stealing the wrong car. Andrew makes the mistake of offering a ride to a liar. They both make the mistake of turning the whole affair into a road trip ‘home.’

Gonna be honest; the summary does not give a big idea as to what is in store and i am SO GLAD I gave this one a try so i’m telling you that you will be too

Chapters: 24/24

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: implied/referenced child abuse, panic attacks (somewhat grahic descriptions of)

The Story After You by kanekicure ( @kanekicure )

Andrew Minyard does not understand how Riko Moriyama landed Neil Wesninski.

How the snot-nosed, small dick, rich brat, second son of the Moriyama family who also just so happened to own the largest EXY gear and merchandiser company in the world “RAVEN” - had landed smart mouthed, quick witted, stupidly blue eyed Wesninski, was beyond him. Well, unless Wesninski was a gold digger, but Andrew doubted it.

Or; how Andrew Minyard says he doesn't get into messy situations, until he meets Neil and suddenly he is in the most messiest possible situation ever imagined in his life - oh and also, he might be becoming a homewrecker.

Ok I am behind bc I haven’t read the final chapter of this but!! I love the story, it’s very emotional and moving, and I love the characterization in it.

Chapters: 10/10

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Abusive Riko/Neil, abusive relationship, implied/referenced rape/non-con, implied/reference child abuse, implied/referenced self-harm, graphic depictions of violence, some descriptions of injuries/scarring,

This Complicated Life by 5a5b5p5 ( @andrewsbutterflyknife )

“This is exactly why I don’t want you and Andrew to meet,” Aaron says grumpily. “You two would get along far too well.”

Neil grins. “I just like pissing you off,” he says, “It’s not my fault your brother does such a good job at it.”

—

Neil doesn’t expect much from his Sophomore year of college, but when he becomes a waiter at the Palmetto Bistro, his life gets a whole lot more interesting. As it turns out, maintaining friendships new and old as well as navigating an interesting relationship with the head chef of the restaurant—who just so happens to be his best friend’s twin brother—is a lot more complicated than he’d thought it would be.

A much more light-hearted fic than most of the others! Includes a secret relationship, and also chef Andrew >>

Chapters: 10/10

Rating: Mature

Warnings:

When I Fade, Keep Me in Your Memory by demesh

Neil Josten has a secret: he can flicker out of existence.

He can vanish with the turn of a thought; click his fingers, and suddenly he’s not there anymore. Invisible and untouchable, he becomes a living ghost.

Having promised his mother never to let his ability go, Neil teeters the line between faded and real, a person and an echo. He can’t risk getting hurt.

But then, one day, someone sees him when they shouldn’t be able to.

A (flower-shop) AU about how a faded and lonely Neil finds it in him to become someone real.

Another fic that I need to catch up on ;; but anyway it’s amazing and I love Neil’s ability in it, it’s so well explained and well-written about

Chapters: 12/12

Rating: Teen and Up Audiences

Warnings: mentions of past abuse, panic attacks

12 Ways to Woo a Minyard by NikNak22 ( @knickknacksandallthat )

Neil is a math nerd who, by a stroke of dumb luck, falls into a group of friends that are the closest thing to family he’s ever had. So, when he tells them about his new mysterious crush, he shouldn’t be surprised how immediately they come up with a plan to help win them over. One they insist that if Neil follows it, he’ll have them falling for him in no time. But things don’t always go to plan – or do they?

Nicky wants to set him up with someone else. Matt and Jeremy are confused but supportive. Allison and Seth offer lewd suggestions, while Dan does her best to keep everyone in line. Jean and Renee know something, Aaron doesn’t really care, and Kevin just wants Neil to join the lacrosse team.

But one thing’s for certain – whether Neil’s successful or not, everyone’s got money riding on this.

The romance-trope-filled fanfic of my dreams. Sometimes you just need a fic of pure joy -- this is that fic.

Chapters: 14/14

Rating: Mature

Warnings:

finders keepers by moonix ( @annawrites )

Andrew meets Nathaniel through a scavenger hunt app. As their team takes part in a hunt that sends each of them to creepy, abandoned places alone to solve clues and gain points, Andrew and Nathaniel begin a little treasure hunt of their own. The anonymity of getting to know each other in small increments, never meeting face-to-face, allows them a level of intimacy neither are used to. Meanwhile Renee’s friend Neil is acting weird whenever Andrew shows up…

This was one of the first fics I read for aftg!! And BOY what a great start!! All of the little pieces and parts that work together, and just the scavenger hunt itself is fantastic! (I also REALLY wanna know if there is an app like this out there because I would be down to do that)

Chapters: 8/8

Rating: Mature

Warnings: (these all come from the author:) “mentions of historical abuse in a mental asylum, mentions of suicide, mentions of murder and kidnapping, morbid facts, creepy abandoned places including a haunted house at a theme park with disturbing rooms, special appearance of a creepy clown doll, fatphobia and some introspection on body image/complicated relationship with food, mention of self harm scars”

-----

Scared to Live (But I’m Scared to Die) by Major_816 ( @major816 )

Neil Josten goes to the Nest for Andrew, but he stays for a lot more.

"I'm sorry Coach," he muttered.

"For what kid?" Wymack shifted. "You've got to give me something to work with here."

Wymack watched the thin traces of sorrow as paper exchanged hands and he was looking down at a contract with the Edgar Allan Raven's.

"I signed them Coach, I'm sorry."

The one where Neil doesn't come back from Winter Break.

It is VERY dark, and is one of very few fics that I have actually been almost unable to read one of the scenes, so DEFINITELY pay attention to the warnings -- both these, and the ones provided for each individual chapter. I did go through the fic to collect as many warnings as I could find in the chapter warnings, but be sure to take care of yourself.

Chapters: 36/36

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: rape/non-con elements, implied/referenced rape/non-con, discussions of rape/non-con, canon-typical violence, graphic descritions, physical abuse, panic attacks, descriptions of injuries (often graphic), psychological warfare, dissociating, psychological torture, physical torture, use of knives, alcoholism/alcohol abuse, pain-induced delirium, rape/non-con, emotional self-separation, suicidal ideation/thoughts of suicide, emotional distress (which sums up the whole fic and also me while reading it), handcuffs/chains used as restraints, referenced/implied abuse towards animals, vomitting, begging, excessive use of painkillers, drowning, waterboarding, physical restraint, mutilation of an animal, mild hallucinations, non-con drugging, sleep deprivation, starvation, humiliation, the Butcher,

Also one of the first fics I read and 100% my absolute favorite fic!!! Which is adfjhsd a little worrying, considering, but it is what it is. Anyway. This fic absolutely wrecked me, and while it is technically complete, there is a sequel in the works! So! But I am so so excited for the sequel, and I am working on rereading this. It’s amazing. 1000/10.

#also!! btw i would love if anyone has more fic recs >> just an fyi >>#idk if demesh doesn't have a tumblr but i couldn't find one :(#also major816 for some reason i can never tag and idk why #aftg #all for the game #andreil #the foxhole court #tfc #andrew minyard #neil josten #fic rec #rec list

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shysneeze · 3 years

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Colour Me Surprised | George Weasley x F!Reader

Description : the reader and George are perfect for one another, which complicates things when fates is telling them otherwise

soulmate au in which you only see colour when you meet your soulmate - from this request

Warnings: kinda angsty, arguments (if I’ve missed anything please tell me so I can add it)

Taglist:

general taglist: @accioweaslcy

george taglist: @amourtentiaa , @omghufflepuff , @daisyyy2516 , @i-padfootblack-things , @imtooanonymousforyou

(this is the form for anyone wanting to join :))

“Leave me alone, George!”

The intensity of (Y/N)’s voice sends several younger pupils scattering from the common room before the door has even swung shut behind her and a second voice joins her, just as full of the same sharp anger.

Stumbling in behind her, George reaches for her, fingers curling around her wrist before she can storm up to her dorm. (Y/N) pulls from his grasp with a huffed breath, though his touch has left that warm buzz on her skin as it’s prone to do.

“Please,” He pants, “Let me talk-“

“No, George,” She seethes, “What are you going to say that can justify setting off a portable swamp underneath my date's chair!?”

He grimaces.

“It was only a small one?”

“George!”

Even as the remaining pupils scatter from the common room, no one can blame them. It’s cruel in a way really, that the world should throw together two people so perfect for one another, and allow fate to tell them otherwise.

Although, perhaps the whole theory of soulmates is cruel by itself.

It’s fine when you’re a child, when seeing the world in shades of black and white is normal. When you’re so young, colour is just one of the unsolved mysteries brought by youth, like where the moon goes in the morning or why the clouds seem to be in such a hurry to pass us by.

It’s growing older that brings that itch, that thirst for colour, the desire to know the different shades of the sky and the pigments of petals so warmly spoken of in stories.

Colour comes with soulmates, it’s the rule of life… but life has never been rumoured to be fair.

While a large portion of wizards and witches meet their soulmates when they start Hogwarts, and upon doing so are thrown into a world colour, no longer strangers to the warm oranges of sunshine and the cool greens of the leaves on the trees, many aren’t quite so lucky.

It can take years, lifetimes for the truly unlucky, to meet, the person the universe has tied your soul to, the perfect match, the missing piece of an incomplete heart. It’s what anyone might look at George Weasley and (Y/N) (Y/L/N) and see… a perfect pair.

In fact it was Fred who first believed so. So excited to introduce them back in third year, so convinced by ‘twin’s instinct’ of their destiny for one another that he practically dragged George to her, only to be sorely disappointed when their faces never brightened with the joy of seeing colour for the first time.

It’s left them with only friendship, one strained by the desire for more. Years of getting to know each other, of the quirks and habits so perfect for one another’s, has only added to the frustration of being destined for other people.

“It was an accident!”

He falters under her warning gaze.

“Well, kind of- I was planning to prank him anyway.” He admits, “ I’m very sorry it interfered with your date.”

She wishes he were lying, it might make it easier to be this angry at him for it. Though from years of friendship, of wishing for more, she’s able to pick out every edge to his voice and there's no lift in his tone where there would be with a lie.

“I mean I did help you dodge a bullet.”

Like that, the anger is again justified.

“Oh come on, everyone knows about Liam, (Y/N),” He argues, “He’s a player and you deserve better.”

“That’s my decision to make!”

He falters, nodding reluctantly.

“I know and I’m sorry but-“ He sighs, “He’s not your soulmate.”

Neither are you

It sits there on her tongue like fire, held back as not to burn him, and most likely, herself, with its truth.

“I know that,” (Y/N) spits weakly, her resolve to be angry crumbling with the newly returned pain in her chest, longing she assumes. “That doesn’t mean I can’t date. Who knows when I’ll meet my soulmate? Is it so bad to want to be loved in the meantime?”

You are.

It’s written all over his face and her heart twists with it. Every fibre of her being wants to love him, in fact she’s already sure she does, but to be with him now will only hurt more when, inevitably, he leaves for somebody else, the person who brings colours to his eyes.

“Don’t say it.”

It comes out pleading, her eyes scrunched and lips beginning to wobble in the anticipation of tears. Eyes shut though, she can still hear the way his breath hitches.

“Clearly you already know.”

One last spark of anger ignites in her chest, though as the words tumble out she’s not sure it’s at him as much as it is at fate, whatever cruel, twisted thing put him in her life, taunting her with something that can never be hers.

“I know!” She seethes, eyes opening only to frown, “Everything tells me it’s you. Every bit of me wants it to be you and yet every time i look at you all I see is grey and it hurts!”

When she meets his gaze, her tight knit frown is mimicked with the same frustration as her own.

But his eyes.

His eyes aren’t the same as she’s always seen them, bursting with a colour she doesn’t know, but warm, like the feeling of the sun on her skin on a late summer afternoon and they’re glittered by speckles of something else that she craves the name of.

His hair is bright and vibrant and just a shade darker than the millions of freckles that dot his cheeks, that hide in his dimples and the crease between his brow that is slowly easing in surprise.

“You’re beautiful...”

Something warm floods his pale cheeks and he hears her breath hitch at the sight. She’s not sure how she’s lived her whole life deprived of something as wonderful as this.

“We’re soulmates.”

“Colour me surprised.”

A second passes for him to grow sheepish under her disapproving gaze.

“Too soon?”

“Yep.”

“I knew it,” He says quietly, as if saying then any louder will take away their truth and fling them back into the dull world they were in only moments ago. “I just knew it,”

Yet she can’t find the same joy he has, held back only by the question of why, why now of all times? This isn’t their first meeting, this isn’t how it works.

“I can practically hear your brain working on overdrive.”

“I don’t understand,” She begins to frown again, “I’ve known you for so long- soulmates are supposed to see colour the first time they meet and we- we met years ago.”

“I know.”

“I guess you hear of g-glitches sometimes...” (Y/N) begins to ramble, finger pulling nervously at her sleeves, “It’s rare but-“

“It doesn’t matter,” George blurts softly, warm hand pulling her own from her sleeves and clasping it reassuringly, “We’re soulmates, (Y/N).”

“We are,”

The strange knot that has been tying itself in her chest with worry begins to come loose, eyes finding his again, those little specks of colour swimming in warmth. Then, his hair, his beautiful bright hair.

“Are you going to stop staring at my hair long enough to let me kiss you?”

“I don’t know, George,” Her lips twitched into a teasing smile, “It’s so bright-“

The rest of her sentence lodges itself in her throat with his face suddenly inches from her own. His breath tingles her lips and she feels herself gulping.

“I’m sure I can admire it more later...”

His lips meet hers with that same buzz left by his touch and she finds herself wondering momentarily if it’s a soulmate thing, though kissing him soon replaces all other thoughts.

It’s perfect, and somehow having missed out on this is worse than ever having missed out on colours. In fact, she’s sure she’d sooner give up colour all over again for the promise of getting to kiss him.

As he pulls back though with his cheeks awash with that bright blush, warm where her fingers have lifted to cup his cheeks subconsciously as they kissed, she’s glad she doesn’t have to.

#george weasley x reader #george weasley soulmate au #george weasley imagine #george weasley imagines #george x reader #george imagines #soulmate au #george weasley fluff #george weasley angst

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wrenhyperfixates · 3 years

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Ever Since We Met

Prologue

Pairing: Loki x reader Series Summary: After making a bet with Odin, Loki finally has a chance to prove he is worthy of being heir to the throne. Under mysterious circumstances, you find yourself stranded on Asgard, left with no option but to team up with Loki and help him win the crown. Now posing as visiting royalty, you must be careful of rumors in court that say you’re not who you claim, all while battling your growing feelings for the raven haired king. But some things are easier said than done because secrets, you’ll soon learn, can be deadly. Chapter Summary: Before Odin leaves for Alfheim, Loki makes one final bid for the throne. A bet that has the power to alter his future. Chapter Warnings: none :) A/N: Greetings guys, gals, and non-binary pals! I am beyond excited to share this story with you! It takes place pre-Thor 1 and will update every Friday until we reach the end in about six months. Without further ado, I hope you enjoy!

Permanent Tag List: @lucywrites02 @frostedgiant @lunarmoon8 @twhiddlestonsstuff @lokistan @lowkeyorlokificrecs @gaitwae @whatafuckingdumbass @castiels-majestic-wings @kozkaboi @cozy-the-overlord @birdgirl90 @myraiswack @mythicalgarlicknot

ESWM Tag List: @happygalaxymilkshake @electroma89 @joyfullymassivewhispers @darkacademicfrom2021 (Both tag lists are open; message me to be added!)

⚜︎ Masterlist | Next >>

Disclaimer: Gif not mine.

Thankfully, the halls outside the throne room were empty, leaving plenty of space for Loki to pace back and forth. He never would have let his anxious energy show in front of others, but right now it was just him. The guards had gone in to announce Loki to his father, gain permission for him to enter. It was ridiculous that he couldn’t just waltz in, the prince thought. Then again, that’s all he was. A prince. Not the king.

See, Loki had been trying his whole life to prove his worth to his father, desperately attempting to show he was deserving of the throne. But nothing had worked, and whispers that Odin was going to announce his heir any day now were common throughout the kingdom. And not a single person was saying it was going to be Loki. Luckily, the younger Odinson didn’t give up so easily.

“Prince Loki,” one of the guards said with a little bow of his head as they re-emerged from the throne room. Loki immediately stopped his nervous movement and looked him in the eye. “The king will see you now.”

“Thank you, gentlemen,” Loki replied, regal as ever. “As you were.”

Taking a final gulp of air, he pushed through the heavy golden doors and walked towards Odin. As a child, Loki had always thought his father looked so imposing sitting on the throne, as if he had in his palm the fate of all people. Well, now Loki was grown, and he knew that the old man sitting in that glorified chair did hold someone’s fate. His. And if Loki wasn’t careful, Odin would crush his dreams, his destiny, without so much as batting an eye.

Loki’s heeled boots clicked on the cold floor, as if counting down the steps left before he could make his request. They were, perhaps, a bit more formal than something one might wear on a regular basis, but he figured why not dress to impress? His semi-formal cloak swooshed behind him, and he had to resist anxiously fiddling with the fabric. With his hair slicked back and combed perfectly in place, he thought he looked very princely, but if all went well, he was going to be far more than that.

“Your majesty,” he greeted Odin in the formal way he’d been taught since birth, bowing at his waist. Oh, how he so despised that part; if he had it his way, he’d never bow to anyone again. At least he didn’t have to kneel as most of the lesser nobles and commoners did.

“Rise my son,” Odin said with a wave of his hand. “Why have you felt the need for this audience so close to my departure?”

“Well, father,” Loki began. He summoned all his strength to keep up his nonchalant facade. “It has come to my attention that you have invited Thor to join you and mother on your diplomatic mission to Alfheim. An invitation, I might add, that he has accepted.”

“Yes, yes,” he yawned. “What of it? I hope you are not looking to come. The convoy is already full.”

“On the contrary, I think it best if I stay here.” Loki studied his father’s expression a moment before continuing. “To rule the kingdom.”

It was painfully silent in the near-empty throne room. And then Odin began laughing. Not chuckling, but full on laughing at his son. This was perhaps the most embarrassed Loki had ever felt, and there wasn’t even anyone else in the room. But all he wanted was to show his father he was capable of ruling. That he would make a far more competent king than his oaf of a brother. This was a critical moment, he knew, and he couldn’t let any cracks in his armor show. He kept his face completely neutral as his father slowly ceased his cackling.

“And why should I allow for that. You see, Loki, I have already chosen my successor, and it is not you,” Odin bluntly explained as Loki’s blood began to boil and hopes began to drop. Maybe this was just a nightmare, and he’d wake up to make his plea for real. No such luck. “The official announcement was going to come upon my return, but it seems cruel to keep it from you now.”

All the times Loki played this out in his head, it never went quite this poorly. Never in his wildest dreams had he been expecting Odin to admit what he already knew deep down; he’d lost. But all his training, his preparing, his effort to show that he was the one deserving of the crown, could it really be for nothing?

“Come now, my son,” Odin said when Loki took too long to reply. He wondered if his father was trying to have a comforting tone. If he was, he was failing miserably. “You always knew I would have to pick one of you. That only one of you could take the mighty throne of Asgard.”

Yes, but I should be the victor, Loki thought, ignoring the tears pricking the back of his eyes. The last thing he would do was cry in front of the Allfather. Especially when he still had a chance to make this work in his favor. All he had to do was keep it together for the next fifteen minutes and alter his argument a little. If Odin was taking drastic measures, maybe that’s what he had to do, too.

“I do not think you should act so rashly, father,” Loki spoke up, voice impressively even. “After all, you have yet to hear my proposition.”

“And what might that be? Speak, son, and tell me.”

“Let me rule Asgard while you are gone. If I do well, you wait to make your decision on who will be your heir, allow me to continue to compete for the crown.”

The old king laughed again, not as loudly as before, but just as unkindly. “Why would I do that? I see no way in which this benefits me.”

“On the contrary, as a prince, I would have the right to plead my case to the Allmother if you took me out of the running. It would be a long, tedious process if you had to go through all the right channels to prove my brother is better suited for the kingship. And then again, they might not even find that he is. Or I could even challenge Thor for the crown, if it comes down to it. Such scandal to mark the end of your reign would be a shame, do you not agree?” He paused for dramatic effect, and to let the words sink in. “However, should I do poorly on the throne, I would have no argument to make, and would back down peacefully.”

The tension was so thick, Loki was tempted to whip out one of his daggers to try to cut it, and give himself room to breathe. But even the subtlest of movements would give way to an accusation of weakness, so he stood where he was, his piercing gaze staring into his father’s one eye, waiting for him to speak. Odin tapped his fingers on the arm of his throne, mulling over the very thinly veiled threat. By the time the king was opening his mouth to speak, Loki felt ready to scream.

“Very well,” he finally conceded. “But your success will be according to my terms. There are three things a good king needs. The first is the respect of those he rules. The second, fear and awe of his enemies and allies alike.”

Loki’s eyes flitted down for the briefest of seconds before looking up with renewed confidence. “And the last?”

“Worthiness,” Odin continued, standing up and walking down the steps, “to have the crown on his head.”

More eagerly than he would have liked, Loki nodded. He was certainly clever enough to figure out a way to prove he had each of those. It seemed that his silver tongue had not failed him today. But before he could say he accepted the terms, Odin had one last stipulation to add.

“You may not set foot out of the kingdom. Everything must run smoothly while you are here. Is this understood?”

“Yes, father, it is. And you will not interfere with my reign,” Loki replied, distrusting something about the look in the old man’s eye. “So then, do we have a deal?”

He considered for a moment more. “Yes, we do. From the moment I leave tomorrow until the second I return, you will be acting king of Asgard.”

“Thank you, father. You will not regret this,” Loki said, bowing again before leaving.

Whether he left before his father could say anything or if he never planned to at all, Loki wasn’t sure. It hardly mattered anymore. Now, his future was nearly set, for certainly he was already admired to some degree, right? Or even if he wasn’t, he’d been preparing for this day his whole life, studying his father. He knew how to be king, and he’d be damned if he let anything ruin this opportunity.

After a fitful night of sleep, Loki saw his family and their entourage off at the Bifröst. True, he was more than eager for them to leave already, but he did his best to mask it. After all, his eagerness may be mistaken for arrogance, and that was no way to start his reign.

“Alright, brother. I bid thee well,” Thor said, clapping him on the back. As far as Loki was aware, neither he nor anyone else knew of the specifics of the bet that had been made, save for his mother and Heimdall, who had been tasked with keeping an eye on him. “Do not get too comfortable on the throne, though.”

“Good luck, my son. I have every confidence in you,” Frigga said, cupping his cheeks.

Loki looked to Odin for him to speak some final words of parting. When he didn’t, Loki said, “Thank you, brother, mother. I wish you all safe travels and shall be awaiting your return.”

He waited until they disappeared into the rainbow lights and, with a nod in Heimdall’s direction, headed back towards the palace. The throne. Almost reverently, he circled it once before sitting down. Feeling perfectly pleased with himself, Loki didn’t even notice the bright flash of light in the distance. Nor what came with it.

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dreamsmp-au-ideas · 3 years

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The Twisted Fairy Tales au is so cool! And it got me thinking about another possible au.

So there’s this book series where all the characters are the kids of fairy tales, and they go to school to learn how to better be said fairy tale roles, because when they grow up, they’re meant to take on those roles and repeat said story, just as their parents did before them, and on and on. The story focuses around the kids of Snow White and the Evil Queen, and the Evil Queen’s daughter throwing everything into chaos because she doesn’t want to be evil and refuses her role.

So what about an au like that? Everyone is set to become the next [insert character here] and then we’ve got Tommy and Tubbo. Tommy’s meant to be the next Sleeping Beauty, and they’ve modernized it a little bit so that he won’t have to sleep 100 years, just a couple months, and so he’s not too bothered by his role.

Tubbo, on the other hand, is meant to be the next Evil Fairy, the one who curses Tommy to die and all that. His actual dad (the Captain) disappeared after fucking up not only his own role but a bunch of other stories as well, and so he’s been sent to live with Schlatt, another villain, in hopes that Schlatt will steer him down the “correct” path (aka the evil one). So Tubbo is growing up with powerful evil magic he can’t control, and everyone telling him he has no choice but to be evil and hurt others and if he doesn’t he’ll mess up their world just like his dad. But this is Tubbo! He doesn’t want to be evil!

And then of course the two get to meet and Tommy is shocked because Is this small kid really supposed to be his enemy? He’s nice! And Tubbo really doesn’t want to hurt Tommy, even if it’s his role. And so the two of them end up throwing everything into chaos.

Plus, imagine who would be going into what role is fun!

Aw fuck yea, Ever After High au!

I loved this when I was a kid! Man, we can come up with so many different ideas for this. This is guaranteed to go off sideways from canon, I know it. That’s literally what happened with so many aus, we’re going to find a way to make it go sideways.

Anyways, holy fuck! I love this!

God I’m not sure how we can fit Sleeping Beauty of all roles onto Tommy but we can go and probably have it so that others had to convince him for a long time that if he does so, then he’ll get a happy ending. He’s still salty about it but he plays along until Tubbo becomes his friend.

From then out, he’s a chaotic fucker who is surprisingly heroic and does not play the damsel in distress role. If anything people would argue that he’s more suited in the villain role more than Tubbo is with how much chaos he intentionally or unintentionally caused. (They forget that Tubbo is still a gremlin under his cinnamon roll facade)

Tubbo as the role of the Evil Fairy? Perfect. I love that. I love that a lot. He now is powerful and has magic. Also, I feel like Tubbo is going to be the one who probably signs the book because he doesn’t want his friend to not have his happy ending. Yeah he’ll be shunned but that’s fine. His friend will get his happy ending at least.

So in this au, Tommy says fuck you and then finds a way to vandalize the book to delete Tubbo’s name and everyone else’s as well. Because you know what? Fuck destiny. They’re going to make their own happy endings, and they’re going to make them where neither of them suffer.

Wilbur is actually someone who would like to follow his destiny at first before slowly just becoming accidental brothers with Tubbo and Tommy and realized that oh. I care about these people and this isn’t right. They should get their happy endings too and they should go and not have to suffer for it.

So Viva la Revolution!

Niki and Jack are a bit pissed that there are people trying to go against that mainly because they really don’t want to lose their happy endings and suffer for it. The thing is less of trying to nuke Tommy and more of trying to get him to sign the book in increasingly hilarious ways.

I don’t know who everyone can be but I do know that Dream is going to be a rebel if he isn’t a jackass in this au. Society has progressed pass the need of Villain Dream.

It’s time for Dream who is stressing the fuck out over his legacy because he’s apparently supposed to be a jackass there but he doesn’t want to be one of those people. Maybe a Mother Gothel type of villain for Dream.

Puffy probably is the child of Captain Hook and she’s pretty satisfied with that. Kind of wishes people would stop being scared of her whenever she talks to them.

We have so many possibilities in this au. We have so many fucking possibilities.

#mcyt #dream smp #dream smp au #ever after au #tommyinnit #tubbo #captain sparklez #jschlatt #wilbur soot #nihachu #jack manifold #jack manifold tv #dream #dreamwastaken #captain puffy #ask

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witcher-trash · 3 years

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Weekly Witcher Fic Recs 3

(I have a lot this week haha) All Your Life (lambert-centric, angst, complete, mature, 1k) Lambert is a parrot. Lambert is a parrot and it’s eating him alive. Lambert is a parrot and there is nothing he can do about it.

Cat in the bag (aiden/coën/lambert, complete, mature, 15k) Aiden gives a cheeky little grin. “I’ll write down the recipe for you once we’ve survived this entire mess.” “If we survive.” Lambert sighs as he shrugs his shirt back on. Their plan does have a reasonable chance of success, true, but the risk is still substantial and a lot of it depends on factors he can’t really control. “We will.” Coën radiates the same optimism and calmness that he displays in the face of almost every adverse situation, something that Lambert has come to rely on more than he sometimes likes to admit. “Well, let’s see it this way – if it goes wrong there is a good chance that all of us will be dead, so not much to worry over, no?” Aiden adds cheerfully. * Coën and Lambert take a contract to protect a king from assassination. A straightforward contract, really - until it turns out that one of the supposed assassins, a Cat School witcher, has decided to go rogue. Now, the three of them have to figure out whether they can trust each other and how to keep both themselves and the king from getting killed.

Crimes Against Gwent (lambert&geralt, complete, teen and up, 2k) Lambert leaps from his chair at the dining table so forcefully that it topples backwards with a loud clatter, and quickly rounds the table to tackle Geralt, bowling him over without any regard to their surroundings. Geralt’s chair tips back with the both of them in it, creaking and then slamming to the wooden floor. The two of them tumble backwards, rolling onto the plush rug in the living room as they grapple with each other. Geralt has the audacity to laugh, full-bellied and genuinely happy, and it makes Lambert squawk indignantly. The older witcher shoots Lambert a grin and Lambert lunges again. or, Geralt “cheats” at gwent.

Following the Thread (aiden/lambert, wip, 25k, explicit) Lambert thinks Aiden is dead, and killing Jad Karadin is just the final step in that journey. That is, until the truth comes running him down. Aiden is very much alive, he's just missing, and Lambert will do anything to find him and to set things right. If they happen to fall in love along the way, no one is complaining.

Hug a Witcher Day (geraskier, complete, teen and up, 14k) Jaskier writes a new song ‘Hug a Witcher Day.’ It gains insane popularity and Geralt finds himself hugged by random strangers on one particular day every year. He doesn’t mind the hugs. And yet, He realizes that Jaskier has never hugged him. Not on that day, not ever. Oh, but Jaskier looks like he gives great hugs. What can a witcher do to get one from his bard?

Leave You Behind (eskel/lambert, complete, explicit, 2k) “I won’t leave you behind, i promise.” He sounded so sincere. Lambert took a deep breath and nodded, steeling himself for Eskel’s inevitable departure. He’d take the lands to the south this year while Lambert headed west. Neither were sure what Geralt would be doing - perhaps he’d be too distracted by destiny to make much of a dent in outstanding contracts at all. ++ It’d taken decades for the two of them to finally get together. And now that Lambert finally had him, he wasn’t sure he could let go

Living Like This (geraskier, teen and up, wip, 9k) Based off of the ‘Robber: *wakes me gently* ‘You live like this?’’ meme. Geralt is a single father, jobless and down on his luck. One night, a masked man breaks in to his apartment meaning to steal from him only to find that there is nothing there to take…

Love is an Ongoing Process – series (geraskier, mature, wip, 40k) Netflix Canon-related Geraskier falling in love over the years series. It has all the following tropes: Bed Sharing, Geralt Apologizes, Geraskier Slow Burn, Witchers Senses and Pining. Divided in one-shots in a series instead of chapters in a single fic in an attempt to prevent myself from writing too much.

my dearest love, i'm not done yet (jaskier/yennefer, complete, mature, 5k) It's a funny thing, really. A last memory. As if every memory before that counts for nothing, as if that last one will define a love of a life. As if she would love him less if she saw him in agony. As if her heart wasn't already given away and thrown aside with the most violent way. As if the sound of the bottle shattering on the floor wouldn't wail in her ears forever. or A death for a life, a potion and four days. Yennefer wishes it was that simple.

number one wiener eater (aiden/lambert, complete, 8k, explicit) When Lambert loses the hot dog eating contest that he’s won for the past three years in a row, there’s nothing he would love more than to find who beat him and punch them in the face. Unfortunately, he was too busy throwing up to know who the winner was. All he knows is that he’s kind of maybe in love with the guy who held his hair while he puked.

Sometimes I Can See the Wounds (geralt/eskel, complete, teen and up, complete, 3k) Eskel is wounded in a hunt, and no one in the three towns he passes on his way back to Kaer Morhen will give him aid. He arrives at the keep in bad shape. Geralt has a bit of a breakdown about it. This is very soft with a soft ending.

The Alchemist. (aiden/lambert, complete, teen and up, 3k) "This person is known only as ‘the Alchemist’ and neither I, nor any of my associates, have been able to gather any more information on him. I require someone to locate this person and… dispose of the problem.” In which, Lambert is offered a contract and finds what he thought he'd lost forever. Written for the Save A Witcher Bingo! The prompt was secret identity.

There Must be More to Life. But What? And Why? (iorveth/roche, mature wip, 2k) The universe is bound and determined to make Vernon Roche enjoy retirement, even if it means forcing his hand in the matter.

Three Bells, Each With a Separate Sound (aiden/lambert/voltehre, complete, explicit, 30k) In a dank cave in the Blue Mountains, a stripling just barely past the cusp of manhood looks up at a cyclops looming over him and raises his arm in a futile effort to ward off the massive hand as it swings towards him. On the banks of a river, hundreds of miles and precisely five decades later, to the day and the hour and the ticking second, a man raises his hand to deflect the arrow hissing towards him and knows he’s going to be too slow. Both of them have the exact same thought as their deaths approach: Lambert is never going to forgive me.

Tired Of Chasing Ghosts - series (arnaghad/erland of larvik, guxart/keldar/vesemir, wip, explicit, 18k) "A feast," Erland replies. "A revel." Any and every joyful memory from Skellige he harbours involves some kind of celebrational drinking. If it could tie together wind-whittled seamen and -women that mistake insults for proclamations of affection, it can tie together this young collection of witchers. "A revel... with dancing?" Arnaghad sounds pensive, but underneath that, Erland can hear the first inklings of ideas sprouting to life. "Yes." "Alzur-" "Doesn't give a shit," Erland cuts in. "And neither does Cosimo." Only then does he step back to give Arnaghad the space to ponder. "Think about it. Find me after dinner in the stables." In which: Erland wants to make a home out of Morgraig and Arnaghad makes an exception. A song you know's begun - series (geraskier, wip, 200k+, mature) Jaskier wasn't exactly sure what he had expected Kaer Morhen to be like but the keep was everything and nothing like it. The place was a dichotomy. Magnificent and sad in equal measures in its derelict state. Silent but full of noise. Cold yet filled with warmth. But most importantly, it was Geralt's home. Seeing him so relaxed, the sharpest edges rounded down with the knowledge of being safe and surrounded by his family was a beautiful sight to behold. Jaskier wished he too would relearn what safety felt like.

#the witcher #geraskier #lamden #iorveth/roche #geralt/eskel #fic recs

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hotdamnhunnam · 4 years

Text

The Gavel Corrupts

A/N: Here goes – one of the premises from my Imagine Ideas post! In which Jax fucks you for the first time since becoming President... and shit hits different. (Note: This starts off with a short scene framing the title quote, followed by a flashback to the smutty episode!)

Pairing: Jax Teller x F!Reader Warnings: smut, swearing, dirty talk, dom!Jax, rough sex (like really fucking rough, hair pulling, choking, slapping, biting, all that good stuff!) (but also fluff, because this savage is a baby who deserves all of the love 💖)

Word Count: ~2.4k

He knows that he fucked up. Knows that he’s gone too far, and he can feel how terrified you are. By now he’s lost count of the bullets, all the shots taken without a second thought. The scariest part is he doesn’t even give a shit.

He knows he’s changed, more than his heart wants to admit, but still you’re here to talk him through it. Always have been. You’re his queen, and he will always be your king. In spite of everything. For all your life, you’ve had to fight for him. Together you can fight off anything.

Standing beside him in the meeting room, the two of you alone, you look down lovingly upon him, seated in his loveless throne. Your small hands cradling his big strong frame, seeking in vain to ease the pain that cuts him to the bone.

Jax reaches slowly toward the gavel on the Reaper table, runs his thumb along the wooden handle. Wishing he could blame this thing, this empty toy, for all the times that he’s fucked up. The little boy inside him does. “The gavel corrupts.”

You shift from where you’re standing, take a seat across from him, so you can look him squarely in the eye. His words are one thing, but those blue eyes never lie.

He meets your gaze, his guiding light amidst the mayhem and the madness. Knows you can hear, can taste, the bitterness in every word he says. “You can’t sit in this chair without being a savage.”

All too true. There are days’ worth of shit that you two have to talk through. Don’t even know how. But right now... there is something else you’d rather do.

You reach out toward his vest, the presidential badge that weighs so heavy on his chest. “Sometimes being a savage... can be an advantage,” you tell him as you run your fingers wistfully along the tattered edge. “Remember the first time you fucked me, with this little patch?”

If there’s one thing that sets a spark within the darker side of Jax, that thing is sex. With you. The thought of how it feels between your legs, the way he makes you beg, for all the things that only he can do. Your words just now have started melting through the ice in which he hides, igniting heat that he can’t fight. The heat that only you can manage. This has always been the healing that he needs, when he’s most damaged.

Of course Jax remembers the first time he fucked you as President. Neither of you could forget. But the way he describes it is different, a devilish smirk on his lips as he adds on to what you just said. “Not just fucked... fucking ravaged.”

***************

So it’s finally happened, you think. Walking into the room where your man sits as king. After every damn thing—all the shit that he’s done, all the battles he’s won—all the wars that you’ve lost... no, you can’t bear to think of the cost—it amounts to just...

This. Just a seat at a table, a hand on a gavel, a patch on his vest. This is all it is. All it will ever be. His fucking destiny, this curse he shoulders so heavily, rests on a symbol so small that it fits in his fist.

God, you fucking hate it. All the hatred you wish you could feel toward him, toward the king, you end up channeling into this stupid thing.

You silently reach down to pick it up. Just at the touch, something inside of you already feels corrupt.

And then he speaks. His voice is... strong, but in a way that feels so wrong. A way that makes you feel so weak. “Who said you could touch that.”

His tone is low. Cold. Fucking flat. Doesn’t even lift into a question. You know shit is bad when that happens, yet wouldn’t dare show him you’re frightened. You can’t.

“What?” you snap at him. “Jax, it’s a damn wooden stick. It’s not even that big.”

He reaches up without a word, and wraps his hand around your wrist. So hard it hurts. As if he wants to fucking choke it in his fist.

You bite your lip and fight to keep the gavel in your grip.

So Jax tightens his grasp, till you gasp, and it finally slips. Letting go of your hand, takes the gavel in his. Towering over you as he stands.

Makes you cower beneath him now just ‘cause he can. “Y/N. Do you know what this thing—this position I’m in—being king... do you know what it gives me?”

On instinct, your gaze drops. Ends up at his crotch as it so often does, and your heart stops. A hard-on, apparently.

“Clarity,” he then goes on to say, setting the gavel down to place both hands around your face. The hands that command you in every damn way. “Turns out that looking at you now, all I can see are all the times you ever lied, and let me down. I always let it slide. You knew I’d come around. Because I fucking love you, babe. You make me... soft.”

Hard where it counts, you want to say. But not out loud. You know to shut your mouth, for now. Fuck how the sea inside those damn blue eyes is deep enough to drown...

“So fucking soft,” he repeats, feeding off of your heat, grazing his lower lip with his pearly white teeth. In a ravenous snarl that’s not soft at all. All his tenderness toward you just suddenly fades to give way to the beast that’s beneath. “But not today. Today I’ve had enough. Today you’re gonna pay.”

Well, shit. You fucking want this, more than anything. To give yourself completely to your king. But you’ll be damned before you let yourself admit it, in a moment such as this one. You can’t let him know he’s won. “Ugh, come on, Jax—all the things I’ve done—we’ve both done wrong, but gotten past all that...”

“Maybe you did,” he cuts you off. Sharp and abrupt, like it’s his job to shut you up. The gavel really does corrupt. In every way. “But I’m still dealing with that shit. Every damn day.”

“Then we should talk, babe—”

“Talk?” he scoffs, spitting the word back in your face like it’s a curse. You almost wish you didn’t like the way it hurts. “What’s there to say? The only thing that mouth is good for now is sucking cock.”

Oh fuck. You’ve practically just died. “Jax, I...”

He leans in close, shifting one hand down to your throat, the other drifting low to reach between your thighs. High on his own hunger as mirrored in your eyes. The way your breathing comes in heated moans and sighs. “Shut. The fuck. Up.”

While your cunt pretty much erupts, you can’t resist spluttering out the only obvious reply. “Make me.”

He smiles, slick and sly, taking the open invitation that you know he won’t deny. Lips curving up into that smirk that never fails to drive you crazy. “Oh, you asking for it, baby?”

“Begging. Please.”

“Then get down on your fucking knees.”

Jax doesn’t have to say it twice. He never does. Because he knows that he’s the boss. Pushes you down until your face is in the space between his thighs. One of his hands rests masterfully upon your head, the other making quick work of his belt. Your desperate hands reach up to help; he slaps them off, sudden and rough, dead set on doing every fucking thing himself.

His massive cock is unleashed soon enough. Hard as a rock as it springs free. And God, the sight of it is slaying you already. Even after all these years you’ve been together—so damn many—still it shocks you every time to see something so fucking powerful yet so insanely pretty.

He doesn’t give you time to gawk. Your job right now is just to swallow his entire goddamn cock.

Taking a fistful of your hair in his firm grip, he shoves the wet pink tip forcefully past your panting lips. “Suck. Suck this dick till you choke on it, bitch.”

Jax knows that words like this completely scratch your every itch. You open up and do as told. Like you were put on earth solely to fill this role. Your face is nothing but his filthy little fuckhole. And he proves it now, shows you exactly how he owns your mouth. Feeding you so full of this dick that you can’t fucking live without. With each pump of his hips, the back of your head bumps against the blunt edge of the table that’s behind it, hard wood banging on your skull, bruising you up in ways that make you feel so broken yet so whole. In ways that satisfy the slut inside your soul.

Though you are aching now to swallow down his load, you know it’s not meant for your throat. No, not today. He’s gonna fuck you in another hole to make you really pay.

All of a sudden, with a feral grunt, Jax pulls his cock out of your mouth and hoists you up, swiveling you around to bend over the Reaper table facedown, yanking down your pants in one swift motion, brutally exposing your bare ass and soaking cunt. You’ve never felt more like a total fucking whore, more at the mercy of the man you love. The fucking President. It’s not as if Jax Teller never fucked you hard before—he knows how much you like it rough—but this is just... God, it’s just different. And you cannot get enough.

He deals your ass a ruthless smack, then twines his fingers in your hair to pull your head violently back. Latches his mouth around your gasping neck. Licking and biting hard, scratching you up with savage marks to last this week into the next, the battle scars of this intensely epic sex. As he teases his throbbing cock against the desperate burning heat between your legs, you know Jax wants to hear you beg.

You cry out in excruciating bliss as his nails dig into the soft flesh of your tits, your sides, your hips, scratching lines all across your back. “God, fuck me, Jax...”

He wraps one hand around your neck, just as the other slaps your ass again. “That what you want, Y/N?”

“Fuck—yes...” you whimper as he rubs his raging cock against your cunt, slicking it up with all your juices; you can hear him groaning out in satisfaction at the feeling of your wetness, just before he plunges deep inside and fucks you dry, till it feels like you’ve literally died. “Just... please, Jax, fucking fuck me up...”

And that’s exactly what he does. Thick cock slamming inside you to the core in just one thrust. He clamps his hand over your mouth to stifle all your wild screams as he fulfills your wildest dreams. Your senses blur into a mess of pain and pleasure, worn out leather scraping up against your skin, as you and your king drown together in a sea of shameless sin, as he pumps in and out and then—fuck, even deeper in—hitting spots so deep inside you no one’s ever fucking been, not even him. He’s never done such fucking damage. Never been so fucking savage.

In a matter of seconds, you end up cumming just about a hundred times harder than your body can even fucking manage. You are ruined, in ways you could never have imagined. Unable to fathom what just fucking happened. Utterly and absolutely fucking ravaged.

Jax keeps his cock buried inside you long after you both are done. Because you never are, with one another. No matter how many battles you both have fought, and lost, between each other, and against the world... this is the only war that counts. The war for dominance, the struggle over who is fucking right, through all the wrongs you’ve done, the fight for pride that threatens every day to drag you down. At least until you fuck it out at night. The war that rages in your hearts, vying in vain to tear the two of you apart. The war you’ve both won, time and time again. For what feels like forever. Together.

He holds you near and murmurs in your ear, the words you always know before you hear. “I love you, Y/N.”

Still gives you butterflies, every damn time. “And I love you, Jax Fucking Teller,” you wholeheartedly reply. “Or should I call you Mr. President?”

A soft laugh whispers past his lips, resting against your cheek in an extended kiss, where his big strong body is still slumped over yours in post-orgasmic bliss. “Guess that depends. I think this patch is fucking poison. Babe, I know you never wanted this to happen—honestly, if you just say the word, right now, I’ll leave this all behind and...”

“Oh, shut up,” you interrupt. “Now’s not the time to talk like that, you fucking idiot. Whatever that patch is, I’m just—I’m addicted. You completely fucked me up, and I’m still riding high on feeling so... God, I don’t even know the word for it... corrupt?”

Your eyes randomly flicker toward the gavel on the table, as you say it. Damn, what is it with that thing...?

Jax follows the shift in your gaze, subtle though it was, able to tell where you’re looking, as always. “What is it, darlin’—got some kind of gavel kink? I thought you said it ain’t even that big...”

You smile at that as he kisses your cheek again. “That’s cause it isn’t. Nothing is, compared to your big fucking dick, Mr. President. You are my one and only kink. My one true king.”

“Mmm, well thank God for that, sweetheart...” he growls suggestively, desire stirring up within the both of you again, despite how recently you came—your body is so fucking ready, for this man to fucking ravage you again. And Jax can tell just what you want now as he finishes his sentence, set on ripping you apart. “...‘cause the President’s big dick is still inside you and already getting hard.”

***************

... Continued in Part 2!

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@itsme-autumn @rebelwrites @happyhenners @band--psycho @witching-hour @est11

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iamanartichoke · 3 years

Note

Fic prompt: If you feel like doing another hurt/comfort with Mobius, I would love a version of that end scene where Loki's freaking out but it actually is our Mobius. So Mobius listens to everything Loki has to say, and then they just kind of...take a breath, I suppose, before whatever they're going to do to fight Kang - perhaps Loki gets some tea, and/or an actual meal, a little sleep maybe (has he eaten since that cake on the train or slept since that brief nap in ep 2??), or whatever comfort-y stuff you want - I just need that sweet fic healing lmao.

@scintillatingshortgirl19 Thank you for the prompt and I hope you like it! <3

Summary: Takes place at the end of episode 6, where instead of saying "Who are you?" Mobius knows Loki and they pick up from where they left off in the void. Word Count: 1956 Author’s notes: I'm not feeling super confident with these prompts, so please don't judge me bear with me as I dust off my little writer-brain gears and try to find my footing with these new characters and characterizations.

Completed prompts.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Mobius is saying, holding his hands up, but Loki can’t stop talking. The words are spilling from him; he’s tripping over them, and from the look on Mobius’s face Loki knows he’s not making sense, but still, he can’t stop.

“He’s set on war,” Loki babbles. “We need to prepare, Mobius.”

“Hang on.” When Loki pauses to take a breath, Mobius reaches out and places his hands on Loki’s shoulders. It’s almost comical, the way he needs to reach, as Loki towers over him. Yet Loki feels very small, too, and doesn’t protest the contact. “You’re speaking faster than my brain can process words. Breathe, okay? Start at the beginning.”

Loki doesn’t know when the beginning was. It could have been the moment he’d leapt up and grabbed Sylvie’s arm before she could land a fatal blow to their enemy; it could have been all those days (or months, or hours, Loki has no idea; time, for him, has completely ceased to exist) ago that he’d landed in a Midgardian desert and the TVA immediately swarmed upon him.

“You’re not understanding me.” Frustration colors Loki’s tone. “There’s no time to stop; he’s - they’re - coming.”

“You’re right, I’m not understanding you.” Mobius lets go of Loki’s shoulders and rubs the back of his neck. “I want to, but you gotta slow down and fill me in, okay?”

“Maybe we should take him somewhere,” says B-15. Loki had barely noticed her but now he steps back, his gaze flicking from her to Mobius, taking in the confusion on both of their faces.

“You don’t look so good,” B-15 adds, taking in Loki’s appearance. He must be a sight, he realizes; his hair is matted and tangled and he feels grimy, his skin caked with so much dirt and blood from injuries he doesn’t remember getting.

But, what difference does it make? Loki turns back to Mobius, desperate. “Mobius, listen to me. Sylvie and I -”

“Come on.” Mobius cuts him off. He moves in, taking one of Loki’s arms. “You can tell me everything, okay, Loki? I just need you to calm down and to come with me, preferably before you pass out. Hauling around a five hundred pound demigod wasn’t on my to-do list today.”

Loki bites back a sharp retort. He’s vaguely aware of B-15 taking his other arm, and it’s only once Loki’s shoulders slump and he allows himself to be led away from the shelves that the exhaustion hits him. He’s been running high on adrenaline for hours, and now that he’s moving slowly, supported on either side, all of that energy seems to drain from him at once. His knees buckle.

“Careful,” Mobius says. Were it not for him and B-15 holding him up, Loki is certain he would have collapsed. He squeezes his eyes shut and focuses on placing one foot in front of the other, not caring where they’re going. The archives, the time theater, one place is the same as another.

They move through halls that are bustling with activity, minutemen running and disembodied voices crackling over speakers. They don’t know it’s pointless, no amount of hunters in the field will matter or make a difference.

He thinks he says so, or perhaps he just imagines he does. Neither Mobius nor B-15 acknowledge him, at any rate; they only keep moving and after awhile, they arrive at the dormitories, where Loki has not been since the first day Mobius brought him here as an official TVA employee.

“Why are we here?” Loki asks, confused.

“So you can get a shower and a change of clothes,” Mobius says simply, “and then we can have some coffee and you can tell me what happened after the void.”

Loki sighs, and then nods, resisting the urge to insist that everything else could wait (until when?), because Mobius isn’t understanding the precariousness of the situation, but he knows it won’t do any good.

“Fine,” he says instead, giving up. The sooner he does what Mobius asks, the sooner Mobius will listen.

He’d not realized just how badly he needed that shower and change of clothes until he’s scrubbed the dirt and blood from his skin and allowed the hot water to beat over his sore muscles and rapidly-forming bruises. For lack of anything else to wear, he puts on a clean suit, fastening the cuffs firmly around his wrists and buttoning the collar up to his neck.

He’s sick of this outfit; he never wants to see it again but, without his magic, he has no other choice.

In the dormitory kitchen, Mobius is brewing a pot of coffee. He looks up when Loki walks in, and his mouth quirks in a half smile. “Better,” he says, “but you could still probably use some sleep and a meal.”

“Stop fussing,” Loki snaps, irritated with Mobius’s sudden desire to hover over him like a governess hovering over a petulant child who won’t eat his peas. “I hate coffee, by the way.”

“You’ve never had my coffee,” Mobius retorts, sounding unbothered. “Just sit down, okay? You still look like hell, is my point. When’s the last time anyone fussed over you, anyway?”

Loki makes a scoffing noise as he drops down into a chair at one of the small kitchen tables. “I’m sure my mother did at some point, I don’t remember.” Actually, he remembers very well that it was always his mother who looked after him when he was sick or tired or lonely, until he’d grown too old to allow himself to seek her out for comfort.

But he doesn’t want to think of his mother, who is lost to him and perhaps lost to the real Loki as well, the sacred timeline’s Loki, if enough time has progressed and Malekith has indeed run her through with a sword and left her bleeding out on the palace floor.

Loki shudders as he thinks of it, remembering the sight of his mother’s lifeless body projected onto a screen. He’d been helpless to stop it, utterly powerless, just as ultimately he’d been powerless to stop Sylvie.

His mother, dead. Sylvie, lost to him. The timeline destroyed - the end of everything. The weight of it all crashes over him; had he not already been sitting, the sheer despair of it would have brought him to his knees.

Loki drops his head into his hands instead, thinking back to Mobius’s words that first day: you were born to cause pain and suffering and death.

In retrospect, Loki knows that Mobius was merely fighting dirty, using whatever words necessary to break Loki down - the ends justify the means, and all that - but he wasn’t goddamn wrong.

How could Loki have ever believed, even for a second, that he could possibly change?

We write our own destinies now, he’d told that creepy little clock hologram, and she’d smirked, seen right through the words because they were rubbish and they both knew it.

Good luck with that.

Loki doesn’t realize he’s crying until Mobius sets down a steaming mug of coffee in front of him. He lifts his head and rubs tiredly at his tear-stained cheeks, unable to meet Mobius’s gaze as Mobius sits down across from him with his own mug.

“Here,” Mobius adds, reaching into his inside blazer pocket. He pulls out a slim, red candy stick wrapped in plastic and hands that to Loki as well.

Loki stares at it. “What is this?”

“Something better than grapes or nuts,” Mobius says dryly. “It’s a Twizzler. Popular Earth candy. I’d say don’t tell anyone I’ve stashed a bunch, but …” He trails off and shrugs, glancing around at the kitchen with forced amusement. “Doesn’t really matter anymore, does it?”

He pulls out a second Twizzler and unwraps the plastic, then bites into the candy. Loki watches him for a moment, and then imitates him. “Gross,” he says, after he’s taken a bite. It’s a very bland candy, with texture not unlike rubber. “Think I prefer grapes.”

“Well, maybe Twizzlers are an acquired taste,” says Mobius.

Loki finishes the Twizzler anyway, and then takes a sip of coffee. He does usually dislike coffee, but either he’s hungrier than he’d realized or Mobius has a gift, because this cup is actually quite good.

“Okay, now let’s go back to the beginning,” Mobius prompts, after a silence. He drums his fingertips against the table. “What happened? I’m assuming you were able to enchant the murder cloud?”

All of the words that had been spilling from Loki’s lips before, so desperate to be released, now get stuck somewhere in his throat. He wraps his hands around his mug and takes another sip of coffee, wondering idly how long it had been since he’d actually had something warm to drink. Or eat, for that matter. The train on Lamentis, perhaps. A moment ago, a lifetime ago.

“We did,” he finally says. Despite the coffee, a chill breaks out over his skin and he sets the mug down, choosing to fold his arms as if to fold into himself for warmth. “We made it past Alioth and found him - the one who’s responsible for all of this.”

Just like that, the words are no longer stuck. Loki pours out the entire story, starting from when he and Sylvie had crossed the threshold into the citadel and ending with his own tumble back through the tempad’s portal into the TVA.

But he omits the kiss, only mentioning that Sylvie had distracted him to get the upper hand. He’ll never speak of it - either that Sylvie had used his feelings for her in order to betray him, or that he’d fallen for it (of course he’d fallen for it; for a few seconds there, he’d let himself believe - but, it doesn’t matter, it wasn’t real, and there are bigger problems now).

“She closed the portal before I could get back through it,” Loki says. He notices that he’s twisting his fingers together so tightly that his knuckles are turning white. He forces himself to stop. “I can only imagine she finished the job after that because, well.” He barks a laugh that sounds, even to his own ears, broken and pathetic. He used to be so good at maintaining a cool, calm facade but it, like so many other things, had been steadily breaking apart, piece by piece. There is very little left to guard the scared little ice runt who trembles at the core.

“Look at the timeline,” he adds; he laughs again and rubs his eyes against a fresh wave of tears.

For a long time, neither of them say anything. Loki finishes his coffee and Mobius eats two more Twizzlers before another word is spoken.

“So we lost.” Mobius’s voice is hollow. “We lost before we could begin to fight.”

“I’m sorry.”

Mobius shrugs. He runs a hand over his short, gray hair before letting out a laugh of his own. “He Who Remains,” he repeats, more to himself than to Loki.

Loki allows a beat to pass. “We have to try to fix it, Mobius.” The only way to ease the weight of his guilt, Loki knows, is if he goes back and tries to make it right - or to die trying.

“How are we supposed to do that?” It’s Mobius’s turn to rub his eyes. His shoulders slump and for a moment, he looks very tired. Older. Loki studies him and wonders, fleetingly, if the real Mobius is someone’s father. “I don’t even know where to begin, Loki.”

“I might.” Loki straightens. Deep down, beneath the anguish, a seed of determination has taken hold and he focuses on that; a lifeline. “But you’ll need to trust me.”

#charlotte writes #follower celebration prompt series #loki series spoilers #loki spoilers #loki tv series spoilers #loki series positive #loki + mobius (platonic)#hurt/comfort #validatemepls #i was listening to the titanic soundtrack as i wrote this lmfao

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