#no one points out that they’re not really married so the threat is empty

[yoon-kooks]

seven tattoos later | jjk

🐰pairing: fuckboy!jungkook x tattooartist!reader

🐰genre: fluff, smut

🐰summary: if the hottest fuck boy in town made it a point to visit your little tattoo studio every week, how many tattoos would it take to make you fall in love with him?

🐰word count: 3.3k

🐰warnings: unprotected sex, slight exhibitionism, sex on the couch, doggy, hes big and rough, lip tattoos, hickeys, lil bit of drinking, hes so annoying in this im so sorry

As you close up for the night, you look out the window and count at least four couples out for a dog walk. It’s past eight, but still warm and bright out. It’s like the sun never stops shining. Summer sucks like that.

Maybe you’d appreciate the sun a little more if you had a puppy to walk or at least a handsome guy friend to drag you outside so you aren’t just rotting away in your empty tattoo studio on a Friday night. Everyone’s apparently on vacation or getting married in Hawaii or something, so work’s been exceptionally slow this week. Fuck summer.

It’s lonely.

You might even miss Jeon Jungkook, the last person you ever expected to get along with. The first time he walked into your studio, he didn’t waste any time in hitting on you and making it painfully obvious. You were convinced he only walked in and got a tattoo that day because he thought you’d be an easy lay. 

That was around two months ago.

“What do you think would look good on me?” he’d asked while scrolling through your portfolio. You knew exactly what he was doing. He wanted you to take in his good looks, imagine the carved out physique beneath that leather jacket. That’s what guys like him do. And he was far from the first male client to ask you that. He wasn't special.

“I don’t know, maybe like a bunny or a duckling?” You just said the first things that came to mind—your two favorite animals. You didn’t give a flying fuck about what design would actually look good on someone you’d just met. Your icy heart definitely doesn’t warm up to people that quickly no matter how hot they are.

“Bunnies are cute,” he said without hesitation. You swear he was staring right at the dainty bunny tattoo on your collarbone. Then he tapped the top of his left hand, the one without all the other tattoos. “I’ll take one right here.” 

At the time, you didn’t think he was serious. (He was serious.)

“So, for touch-ups and stuff, it’d probably be good if I had your number, yeah?” he asked, leaning against the counter and admiring the final product on his hand. Him and his cocky ass smile. It’s annoying how hot he is. Unfair, too.

After inputting your number into his phone, you needed to make one thing very clear: “Send me a dick pic and I’ll tattoo all of your exes’ names on your forehead.”

“I promise no dick pics,” he chuckled. He must’ve taken your threat as a cute little joke. “But I would like to take you out sometime.”

For a moment, you just stared at his handsome face. Everything about him was bright and shiny. His pretty eyes, the art wrapped around his arm, that confident smile. The sun had nothing on him.

But the thing is, you knew better than to trust guys like him. They’re always saying shit they don’t mean. And you were tired of being let down by those empty words.

What would make Jeon Jungkook any different from the fuck boys who’ve burned you in the past?

You didn’t know enough about him to answer that question, but you also weren’t willing to get to know him.

It was for the best.

So after you politely declined the invitation, the boy nodded, waved farewell, and jogged out the door. At least he was decent enough to accept his fate and move right along. (He wasn’t.)

Just when you thought you’d gotten rid of him, he spun around. “See you next week for the touch-up, Y/N.”

He was still smiling like an idiot. You didn’t understand why.

“You’re not gonna need a touch-up in a week,” you shouted back as he dashed off. Fast little fucker. You doubt he heard you, but it didn’t really matter. With all those other tattoos, he already knew how touch-ups worked.

Besides, what were the odds of him showing his pretty face again after rejection? Every other client you turned down never came back. Not even for a touch-up.

You didn’t believe for a second Jeon Jungkook would be back.

A week later, he proved you wrong and waltzed right back in like you never rejected his ass. Of course he did. The week after that, he had three of your designs etched into his hand. And he just kept coming back for more, week after week.

Somewhere along the way, you learned he’s a wedding photographer, an artist like you. He’s shown you his photos a few times even after you specifically said you hate weddings. The photos were gorgeous, though. As much as weddings make you want to gag, the sweet moments he captured had the reverse effect. Somehow, you were envious of what those couples had.

You’ve also overcome the impossible task of learning to tolerate his dumb humor. It’s probably because his laugh and smile are so contagious. He won’t stop running his mouth until he sees you smile either, especially when you’re having a bad day. Your cheeks hurt whenever he’s with you.

Fast forward two months and he now has a total of seven of your tattoos. It feels weird not seeing him this week, not breathing in his woodsy cologne, not leaving your mark on his perfect skin. But you suppose that’s just what happens when the guy who’s been annoying the shit out of you suddenly goes to Hawaii. The withdrawal symptoms are kicking in. 

Your world is a whole lot quieter. It’s peaceful for once. And yet, you miss that chaotic idiot. 

Fuck summer. Fuck people who get married in Hawaii.

Your phone buzzes just as you finish cleaning up. Hopefully it’s someone who wants to book an appointment. (It’s not.)

When you read “jungcock,” you roll your eyes with the faintest smile—the perfect example of your clashing feelings for the boy.

jungcock🥴 [8:24PM] “Got time for me tonight?🫦”

Y/N🐰 [8:24PM] “arent you supposed to be in hawaii rn?”

Y/N🐰 [8:24PM] “and dont use that emoji ever again”

jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “I’d never choose Hawaii over you😌”

jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “(They called off the wedding)”

jungcock🥴 [8:25PM] “🫦”

[8:25PM] [jungcock🥴 is now blocked]

[8:31PM] [You’ve unblocked jungcock🥴]

jungcock🥴 [8:31PM] “Is that a yes?”

Y/N🐰 [8:31PM] “i hate you a lot”

jungcock🥴 [8:32PM] “Hear me out”

jungcock🥴 [8:32PM] “What if😳👉👈 I brought snacks?”

Y/N🐰 [8:34PM] “fine”

You groan and shove your phone back into your pocket. Sometimes you wonder how you let this dork finesse his way into your life. Where did you go wrong?

Jungkook arrives at your studio ten minutes later with your favorite peace offerings—soju and pancakes. Ah yes, this is how he finessed his way to the top.

“Ooh snacks,” you hum as if you didn’t believe in his ability to pick something up on the way over. “What kind of pancakes did you get?”

“Your favorite, obviously,” he nods, handing you the warm box and a fork. There’s something about the way he crosses his arms, as though he’s just waiting to catch your reaction when you open it. Why does he look so fucking proud of himself?

“I never told you my favorite pancakes.” You raise a brow. The only thing you told him was your favorite pancake place. But they have like a million different options, ranging from classic (blueberry and chocolate chip) to fancy (tiramisu and that edible gold stuff). There’s no way he can magically guess your favorite pancake.

“Just open it.” He gives you his idea of a “playful shove” on the shoulders, which would’ve knocked you over with the pancakes if he hadn’t grabbed a hold of your wrist. He was definitely that annoying kid on the playground who chased around all the girls he had a crush on.

You mumble on about him being too rough as you open the box. To your surprise, it’s strawberries and whipped cream drenched in red syrup on top of a fat stack of pancakes—aka your favorite pancakes.

You look up from the mountain of strawberries and tilt your head at the boy like a confused puppy.

“I asked the waitress with the purple hair what you normally order,” he explains.

“Okay, but she doesn’t know me by name. How’d you describe me to her?”

He takes a few steps closer until you get a whiff of that woodsy cologne you missed so much. You feel the tips of his fingers trace along your collarbone. He’s not so rough anymore. In fact, the warm caress just barely grazes your skin, as if to tease your body. You’ve always lowkey looked forward to that tiny bit of warmth while working on his tattoos. Maybe he’s always been aware.

“I called you a cutie with a bunny tattoo.” His nose scrunches when he smiles this time, giving your skin one last poke. “She knew it was you when I showed her the one on my hand.”

Of course Jeon Jungkook walked into your favorite pancake place pretending to be your boyfriend. Of course he did something as embarrassing as showing off what appears to be matching tattoos. All for the sake of bringing you your favorite pancakes on an otherwise shitty summer night.

“Now she’ll think we have matching tattoos,” you say softly, shoving his chest. “How am I supposed to show my face in there ever again?”

“Hey, I don’t have a problem with the whole matching tattoos thing.” He puts his hands up to protect his chest from your wrath in case you’re feeling feisty. “I’ll just pick it up for you again.”

You’re not feeling feisty, so you give the boy a thumbs-up and bring him over to the couch in the back corner of the studio where you usually eat or take naps.

At long last, you stab a piece of pancake and strawberry and coat it in whipped cream before shoving it into your mouth. It’s delicious. “Is it mean if I say I’m glad the Hawaii wedding was canceled?”

“Because you’d be lonely without me here?” he teases.

“No, it’s because you bought me free pancakes, you simp,” you grin, handing off the fork to the simp so he too can get a taste of heaven. He passes you the soju in return even though you’re already feeling a little giggly.

“It’s not free,” he denies. “I’m supposed to be here for another tattoo, remember?”

After a tiny sip, you set the green bottle aside and grab Jungkook’s hand with both of yours. It looks so silly with all your tattoos surrounding the cute little bunny in the middle. He’s silly for letting you do that to him.

“I don’t think there’s any more room on your hand for another one,” you giggle. “Where am I gonna tattoo you next?”

You wonder how many tattoos he has under his clothes. Maybe he’s already got them all over the place. Then, eventually, his body will run out of space and you won’t be able to tattoo him anymore. That would suck. You kinda like his company.

“What about a lip tattoo?” you chirp, tapping on his lower lip with your index finger. When he doesn’t swat you away, you tug down on his lip ring to check for a hidden tattoo there. Nothing. “I have one.”

“You do?” His eyes immediately fall on your red strawberry lips. You pull down your lower one for him to see tiny black letters that read “bad girl.”

“My ex did it. I was supposed to tattoo ‘bad boy’ on his lip, but he chickened out,” you shrug. “Isn’t that crazy?”

“Wait, I thought you can’t stand matching tattoos?” He’s such a good listener. Boyfriend material.

“I didn’t have anything against them up until that point,” you hum as you play with his wavy hair. The perm is cute on him. “But that’s basically when my perspective changed.”

That’s when you lost faith in men. When you grew to hate the idea of marriage. When you started rejecting every guy who approached you, even if he was half as hot as Jeon Jungkook.

“Well fuck your ex,” he frowns. Yeah, fuck him. No, wait. Your ex isn’t the one you want to fuck right now. “You’ve convinced me. The next tattoo I’m getting is a lip tattoo.”

“Got any design ideas for what you want there?” You climb into his lap, cup his chin with one hand, and play with his lip piercings some more. You’ve never been this up close and personal with Jungkook, but you like it. You can already feel his cock hardening beneath you through your leggings.

“Your lips,” he says without hesitation. Cheesy, but you’ll take any excuse right now to close the gap between you and him.

Just like that, something clicks in your body, and your lips just find their way to his. You’re not sure how much of it is alcohol and how much is your actual feelings for the boy, but it doesn’t really matter. Not when the kiss tastes like strawberry pancakes. It’s perfect.

You throw your arms over his shoulders as he kisses back. He’s already got his hands slipped up the back of your little tank top. 

Your hips start to roll against him.

“Should we close the blinds?” he asks against your lips. “Unless you like an audience.”

You glance at the window. The sun is finally going down, but of course people are still walking their dogs. Maybe they didn’t get the memo that it’s officially fucking hours, not dog walking hours.

Normally, you’d be all for closing the blinds and turning out the lights, but your ass is nice and comfy in his lap and you’d rather not change that. Plus the back of the couch should hide 90% of what’s going on.

You shed your tank top off and toss it onto the coffee table next to the unfinished pancakes. His big eyes flick to your lacy black bralette. 

“Let them watch.” You press your lips into his neck and suck away like a vampire. The hickeys you’re about to leave him with will have to make do as temporary tattoos for now. You’re not gonna have time to tattoo him tonight.

“You sure you want people to see you so desperate and needy like this?” he asks as you wiggle out of your leggings. His hands immediately find your ass and give it a good squeeze.

“I’m not needy,” you whine, your naughty hand feeling how large his cock is through his joggers.

“I think you’re pretty needy, Y/N.” Two fingers slip past your thong and spread the wet lust between your legs. He has the biggest smirk on his face as your body squirms to his touch. You do everything in your power to hold back a gasp. “Do you want me to fuck you that badly?”

Yes, but you’re not going to admit it. Ever.

“No way,” you answer with confidence. He helps you out of his lap and you let him prop you up on your hands and knees so he can get a good look at your ass. “This is just my way of thanking you for the pancakes since we both know you aren’t getting that lip tattoo tonight.”

“The lip tattoo can wait.” You feel your thong drop to the couch where it belongs. Two very strong hands hold you at the waist. “You’re my number one priority tonight.”

As he fills you with his cock, you’re already melting to the heat between your legs. Your weak little arms lose all their strength. You reach for your fluffy white cloud pillow to muffle your moans and let him do all the work from behind.

The tight hold he has on you is a mix of possessiveness and all the sexual tension built up over the past two months. You wonder how many times he thought about bending you over and fucking you silly in the midst of getting a cute little frog tattoo. You’ve seen the way his lustful eyes look at you during his appointments. You’re not that oblivious.

“Nice ass tattoo, by the way.” He pinches the bit of skin with two pink butterflies. You’d always regretted that one because not everyone shares the same appreciation for it, but that tiny love pinch made it all worth it. “You and your cute little tattoos.”

He slides in and out, pounding your deepest spot, and drawing a pathetic whimper from your throat every few seconds. Doesn’t help that he has a finger or two rubbing away at your swollen little clit. That’s when you realize you’ve been missing out on amazing sex for far too long. Seven whole tattoos. That’s how long it took before you gave in.

He’s already rougher now than the playful shove that nearly knocked you over earlier. Good.

This is exactly what you need after such a boring work week.

“What would you be doing now if I were taking wedding pictures in Hawaii?” His voice is getting breathier. He’s working hard out there.

“Gagging at all the romantic shit you’d be sending me.” Even if he weren’t physically there with you, you know he’d still find a way to be annoying. He’d let you know he’s still thinking of you.

“Don’t worry, I won’t make you gag tonight.” You don’t have to turn around to know he’s got that dumb smirk on his face. “Maybe another time. If you’re into that.”

Your response is a soft moan into the pillow. The thought of his cock shoved down your throat isn’t as repulsive as you would’ve thought two months ago. Giving head isn’t usually your thing, but you’re open to trying it with him. You’re glad he can’t see you lick your lips.

He doesn’t slow down either, instead picking up the pace and going harder. Your fingers dig into the pillow, your whole body dripping in pleasure. It feels too good.

“Mm, Jungkook,” you pant like a poor puppy with your ass up in the air. Your little clit can’t take much more of his fingers. You’re so close.

“Thought you couldn’t stand me,” he teases as you tighten around him. He’s so annoying! During sex, too. “And now you’re about to cum for me?”

“Fuck you,” you gasp as the wave of pleasure passes through you. His fingers and cock help you ride out the high. He’s lucky he’s a sweet guy with a strong sex game. Otherwise you wouldn’t have fallen for his annoying ass.

As soon as he pulls out, he flips you onto your back, staring down at you with his cock in hand. A few extra pumps along his length is all he needs to get his release and drizzle your belly with his creamy glaze.

He climbs over you to give you a soft peck on the lips. You’ve been with a lot of fuck boys before, but you can’t remember any of them kissing you once the sex was done and over with.

This boy is different.

He lets you lie there, basking in the afterglow as he searches the studio for a clean towel. When he finally gets ahold of one, he offers a hand to help you sit up and gets you cleaned up.

“All jokes aside, I’m happy you were here tonight,” you say in a tiny voice. “Fuck Hawaii weddings.”

He chuckles in his usual adorkable way. “You should come to a wedding with me sometime—when I’m not working, of course. Maybe you won’t hate them as much as you think.”

You lean in for another kiss. There’s still a hint of pancake on his tongue, but it's even sweeter. “Sure.”

The corners of his lips curve upward in satisfaction. The annoying little shit is about to jump out. You can feel it. (The annoying little shit does not jump out.)

“Now finish your pancakes,” he smiles. For once, it’s not him looking all smug and shit. And it’s really endearing.

Somehow, he just keeps proving you wrong. In a good way.

You look at your favorite pancakes on the table and wave them off. “Nah, I’m good.” Once more, you scoot your ass onto him and press a finger to his lip. “I think I like the taste of you better.”

#bts smut #jungkook smut #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts fanfic #bts x reader #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook tattoo #bts fluff #jungkook fluff #bts fuck boy au #seven tattoos later

[kitchenisking]

100 Fics for A 100 Followers😍 (81-90) 

Stiles' Happy Ending by halcyon1993  - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 4965, sterek)

Stiles goes to a massage parlour after a long working week and can’t help but get aroused by the touch of the sexy alpha with whom he’s paired.

cry baby cry by wyrmwolf - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 8010, sterek)

“Fuck it.” Stiles says under his breath, swinging his arms with all his strength so he can bash Derek’s skull in and make a run for it.

Just as the wood was about to hit Derek’s head, the man reached up and stopped the bat before it impacted his head. Stiles froze in utter astonishment at the sight, and the feeling of fear began to creep its way up his body. Derek moved, no-moving implied it was normal, human even. Humans moved in a way that was almost clumsy yet fluid. But that’s not what Derek did, he shifted like a shadow going across the walls at night and leaned closer so their faces were a foot apart.

“Come on, Stiles. You didn’t think that was actually gonna work.” Derek chuckles darkly.

sleep by jesuisgrace - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 823, sterek)

Derek finds Stiles sprawled in their huge bed, sleeping soundly on his stomach, limbs starfished to take up the whole bed. A blanket is tangled around one leg but he's otherwise beautifully naked and he takes a moment to just take in the sight and smell of him.

Like French Vanilla Ice Cream by GotTheSilver - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 13702, sterek)

Hale Sounds, Open 'til Midnight.

An Empire Records AU.

“Well, maybe you should sort out your own love life before looking at mine.”

“I don’t have a love life.”

“That’s the point I was making,” Erica responds in a tone of voice that suggests she thinks Derek is stupid.

cruising by thepsychicclam - (Rating: Mature, Words: 17016, sterek)

Stiles and Scott spend Friday and Saturday nights cruising through town. All the kids do it.

Stiles and Scott cruise around, confident and cool. Except, they’re totally not. Stiles and Scott are definitely not cool. They don’t have their own cruising posse, a caravan they ride around with, taking corners too fast and yelling out the windows at each other.

They have Liam and Mason, two freshmen who sit in the back and complain about the choice of music.

A high school cruising au where Stiles sees Derek cruising down the strip and develops a huge crush.

sustain by bleep0bleep - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 9491, sterek)

Yes, there’s another person in the lab with them, someone who’s heart is beating steadily, sounding achingly familiar somehow, their blood sweet and cloying. Stiles drops the empty bag and rushes forward, because it can’t possibly be— that scent— who he thinks it is—

Accidental Sterek by BeniMaiko - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 3862, sterek)

Everybody thinks Stiles is dating Derek.

Something More by kaistrex (weishen)  - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 19148, sterek)

“Derek, what’s going on?” Erica asks.

Derek hesitates to respond, trying to decide on the most concise way to tell the story without his disgust bleeding through. Marie beats him to it.

“After the Argents’ attack, we were the only pack who would give them shelter. As thanks, it was agreed my daughter would marry a member of the Hale pack when she came of age.”

“But Derek is no longer an option because a marriage pact can’t interfere with a pack’s hierarchy,” Lydia fills in, disbelief dripping from every word. “And now every other member of the pack is mated, you’ve finally come calling to sink your claws into Stiles.”

*

When Derek and Stiles stumbled into a friends with benefits relationship purely by accident, they weren’t expecting it would one day save their asses when a threat from Derek’s past comes knocking. All they need to do is pretend to really be in love to avoid an arranged marriage agreed to years ago with a pact of blood. Considering they hadn’t bothered setting up boundaries when the ‘benefits’ first started, it’s no surprise that the lines begin to blur and Derek’s eyes are eventually opened to a truth he hadn’t been ready to face.

This Isn't Control by secondstar - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 12850, sterek)

Stiles ends up taking a 'Sex, Sexuality, and Society' class with one of his favorite teachers and discovers that his thesis for his term paper means more to him than just the grade.

See Derek Date by mikkimouse - (Rating: Explicit, Words: 20699, sterek)

When Derek sees his ex-boyfriend, Jordan, for the first time in ten years, he tells a little white lie about his love life (or lack thereof). Of course, that all blows up in his face when his sister Cora finds out and demands that Derek bring his (imaginary) boyfriend to her wedding. 

Now he's got one month to change that "imaginary" boyfriend into an actual one.

#stiles x derek #sterek #derek hale #stiles stilinski #fanfiction #ficrec #fanfic #kitcheniskingficrecs

[starkillersbae]

venting and christmas angst

Christmas feels like a holiday designed to point out how lonely, dysfunctional and poor I am, and then makes me feel bad about about feeling bad or jealous because it's not supposed to be about the gifts or celebrations it's supposed to be about some nebulous Christmas spirit and the spirit of giving. 

But all I feel is broke, isolated, and more aware of the weird broken dynamic with my family and how other people have loving warm family relationships, piles of expensive gifts, S/Os who love them and I went to work and was alone all day. I know I have issues with money and I wish I didn’t. I wish I had a good paying job. I wish my parents had money and had been able to help me. I wish I didn’t get jealous so easily over how easy other people have it. 

You’re always supposed to be able to put aside that jealous for how good other people have it because you have love and people who care, but what happens when you don’t? 

I have no deep or meaningful real life connections. I know my mom and dad care and try but they’re so wrapped up in their own little world I’m an accessory to that. Half the time I don’t think my mom even likes me and I don’t blame her. I’m not a pleasant person. 

I’m tired, I’m lonely, I’m sick to death of being poor. I feel like a part of me has given up on finding love. 

I used to get so tied up in knots about finding love, it was the big dream. I wanted to fall in love and get married more than I wanted anything else in the world, but it just doesn’t seem like it’s for me. So somewhere along the lines that dream died. 

Every dream I’ve ever had has died. As a teenager I wanted a horse so bad I spent years doing everything to try and get a horse and it never happened to I just put it aside on a shelf and don’t think about horses anymore. I don’t want one, I don’t want to be involved in horses.  In my late teens early 20s I just wanted to fall in love like in a fanfiction.  It sorta died somewhere in my mid 20s when I realized I wasn’t compatible with relationships and love and all dating was doing was filling my life with clowns and sad depression girlfriends I’d see for a month or two before realizing they were awful.  So I put that dream up on a shelf, and truthfully, I don’t really read fanfiction anymore because it feels like reading horse magazines again thinking like an idiot I might some day have a horse.  So I started dreaming about Europe and getting a degree and I would be happy if I could just travel and see Europe.  Lately though all I think is ‘why would Europe make me happy at all?’ what would it have for me and whats the point? I would just embarrass myself to death if I tried to live there. I couldn’t afford it and I have no education, after flunking out of community college because I still can’t get my shit together. 

I just feel like an empty hollow husk of a person. Why am I living? I don’t think I even am living honestly. I’m just passing time and my body keeps going so I keep going. 

One of these days it’ll get dark enough and empty enough I’ll just end it. Thats not really a threat or a desperate cry for help. No one can survive an empty void life, being half dead and never really alive. Some day I’ll finally do it and get out before it gets any worse.

#personal

[thecarnivorousmuffinmeta]

What would a cw adaptation of Harry Potter look like?

Having not watched too many cw shows myself (I just hear about their nonsense), I phoned @therealvinelle who made the poor life choices of having watched much more of The Vampire Diaries than I have and watching any Supernatural.

The following is her beautiful response:

So for starters, we merge Snape and Tom's characters. This is because Snape isn't hot, and because Tom needs to be near the kids. Tom still looks like Tom Riddle, and he's a teacher who seduces Hermione. At no point are any thoughts about the fact that he's a teacher sleeping with a student had

Harry is a blond now, and he's also dating Hermione. A love triangle ensues, one where Tom will hover sexily but dangerously in empty classrooms and make vague threats that Hermione find very sexually arousing.

The love triangle is the focal point of this show.

Voldemort is Tom's evil alter ego, who killed Harry's parents over that prophecy. He wants to kill Harry as well, but it's not the season finale yet so he's not actually doing anything about it. Too busy seducing Hermione.

Instead he just does vaguely sinister things, like release a basilisk that Harry heroically saves Hermione from.

He every so often has charged conversations with McGonagall (Who has been aged down and is in her thirties. She's still considered ancient), implying they had an affair once.

Harry and Hermione piece together that Tom and Voldemort aRe ThE sAmE pErSoN.

(Piece together meaning that Dumbledore, who only appeared in the second half of the first season and the show never bothers to clarify what his job actually is, gets a focal episode where he tells them the story of Tom Riddle through flashbacks. Terrible flashback wigs and costumes galore.)

Tom will later, in season 3 where he goes full woobie and we learn that none of his evil deeds were ever his fault, reveal that there's more to the story. That orphanage he grew up in? It was a special school for muggle-borns where they trained a future wizarding militia. Tom was the only one who broke free of their oppressive regime. The other children... GREW UP TO BECOME THE ORDER OF THE PHOENIX.

But I'm skipping how season 1 ended. The answer is that Hermione disavowed Tom in the season 1 finale since he was evil, he was too sexy bad boy to care except subtle wigglings of his eyebrow told the captive Tomione-shipping audience that he did in fact care. Harmione shippers think they're all delusional. She then jumped into Harry's arms.

Which was poor decision making on her end, because in season 2 Harry joins the dark side. This lasts for half a season, mostly because the arc featured so much filler. Tom, who was imprisoned in season 1, becomes Hermione's supportive pen pal through this ordeal and she starts to wonder if maybe there's good in him after all.

Sirius Black is introduced, he's a lawyer living in the Muggle world and he was in love with Lily. We get a flashback showing us how sad Sirius was when she married James, and there is buildup for an arc where Harry's paternity will be questioned. This arc is scrapped, and Sirius is written out of the show altogether, never to be mentioned again.

Ginny gets pregnant by Neville. Neville dies tragically shortly afterwards, killed by Harry because Harry is a dark wizard now. This is actually the spinoff door episode to the new show the CW is trying to launch, "The Weasleys".

Neville's death has no real consequences, Harry returns to the light and is forgiven in time to become the child's godfather.

Oh, and can't believe I forgot: they've all been aged up to 17.

End of season 2, Tom escapes prison.

Season 3, we get the whole "DUMBLEDORE is the real villain!" arc. Tom killing Harry's parents in season 1 is forgotten, the show doesn't outright retcon it but it doesn't want the viewers to remember it either.

Hermione is once again in a love triangle, only this time Tom and Harry have both done bad things (but we'll only bring up the 2 bad things Harry did (killed Neville and said a mean thing to Hermione) and none of the 282985204592 bad things Tom did) so Hermione has a hard time.

Hermione also discovers that she's a uniquely powerful witch. She has the power to make windows shatter, candles flicker, and wind blow all about. Everyone is frightfully impressed with this.

Mid-season 3 finale, Dumbledore destroys Tom's body. It's terribly dramatic, but then turns out to only be a mild inconvenience as he is resurrected four episodes later. He's resurrected by Hermione's window shattering powering, she closed her eyes very intensely and bam, he's back.

We learn about the horcruxes, which by themselves are shockingly similar to the horcruxes of the original books. The big change, however, is that this Tom didn't know he had horcruxes, those evil bastards at the orphanage split his soul in the night through ominous rituals (another flashback here). He has no idea where this other half of his soul is.

Season finale, we learn that Hermione is in fact his horcrux. This is why they had so much in common (they don't have anything in common) and why she got through his bad boy persona (he hasn't been a bad boy since season 1!). They were soulmates this whole time!

Harry despairs in the face of this, and he and Hermione have a teary conversation where she confirms that yes, the Tomione shippers won.

He also has a pleasant conversation with Tom, as a bromance has bloomed between the two.

Alas. The episode ends on a cliffhanger, as the door flings open dramatically. Dumbledore walks in, bearing proof that Tom made an Unbreakable Vow to always serve the Order, a Vow that was obliviated from him. He drags Tom kicking and screaming away from a crying Hermione, the season ends with her resolve to find a way to save him.

(Sorry, I'm on a roll here)

Season 4, a year later. Harry and Hermione have been searching ever since Tom disappeared. They've become closer than ever, but apart from three or four moments of extreme sexual tension per episode, Hermione is Faithful™

News of Tom's terrorist actions as an Order member reach them with regular intervals. Hermione remains convinced that he's being forced to do all this and doesn't actually want to hurt anybody, Harry's not so sure.

They catch up to him in Minneapolis (did I mention this entire show takes place in the states? All the actors are American.) and he tells them to stop trying to save him. Hermione, devastated, takes this to mean he never loved her, he was only ever a psychopath playing with her feelings. She tells him as much, and Tom confirms, yeah, he's a cold-hearted son of a bitch (Harry's favorite insult for him).

They break up, and Hermione gets back with Harry. They return to their home city in North Dakota.

At the very end of that same episode, Tom is able to visit Harry for 15 seconds in the form of a specter and very dramatically tell him how he does love Hermione but he's not good for her, better to make a clean break, yada yada. DON'T LOOK FOR ME.

Harry agrees, sure no problem, he can do that. Just one noble bro to another.

Tom nods, thanks for having sex with my girl while I rot in hell, bro.

It is in this same season premier episode that the show introduces the Blacks. Remember Sirius Black? Yeah, this is sexy family.

They become instant fan favorites, and one of them is shipped with Tom (the fans now hate both Harry and Hermione).

Pandering as always, the show lets said character run into Tom. And it's not Bellatrix, oh no. It's Athena, a CW original Black. She's indistinguishable from the original Bellatrix and it's unclear why she's not just Bellatrix.

Tom is ordered to kill her, but they have a moment of truly intense eye contact so he only injures her (the killing curse doesn't exist in this show. Don't ask how Harry got his scar. No really, don't ask, the show never explained it). Shippers go wild.

Tom is eventually able to break free of the Unbreakable Vow through the power of true love (book fans are sobbing, this show gets nothing right), and he returns to Hermione, begs her to take him back. She rebuffs him, and he goes to get drunk at a bar. This is where Narcissa (aged down to 25) finds him. They have sex.

He has a brief fling with her, only to get into a more serious relationship with Athena. This leads to Hermione getting jealous.

We're now dealing with a love pentagon, of sorts. Harry and Tom love Hermione, Tom also loves Athena, Narcissa wants Harry but she has undeniable sexual chemistry with Tom.

The show descends into back-and-forth-ing, and does not get renewed.

The end.

POST SCRIPT:

The oddly popular side character that the CW never wanted to be popular at all and keeps having to make mysteriously vanish for half a season so that the plot(?) can avoid being derailed is Draco.

He's super competent but the show will never admit that.

Later, Athena plays this same role.

- @therealvinelle

#harry potter #harry potter meta #harry potter headcanon #cw #cw meta #meta #headcanon #opinion #vinelle #therealvinelle

[shreddedparchment]

A Wife for Thor Pt.23

A Royal Invitation

05/02/2021

Pairing: King!Thor x Reader          Word Count: 5,960

Warnings: fluff, slight angst, language

A/N: I hope you all enjoy this one. It took me forever to get out after several life events that just couldn’t be ignored or put on the back burner. I had a lot of fun in the second half of this chapter and I hope y’all find it as entertaining as I did. Let me know what your favorite parts are! I’d love to know. As always, thanks for reblogging if you happen to do so. xoxo

Please DO NOT repost my stories on any other sites or blogs.

REBLOGS are always welcome!

The city is in celebration for three nights after you come home.

They’re not necessarily celebrating your return although that is part of why they’re happy, but the baby. The baby is already so loved. The baby is the city’s hope and future.

You can feel their exuberance when you and Thor take a walk through the city, flanked by Valkyrie with Loki on your left walking just slightly behind you.

He’s busy but smug and keeps his fingers moving swiftly across the screen of a tablet provided by Tony Stark who’d left the city taking Bruce with him back to the United States on Avengers business.

What Loki is doing, what's got him so glued to his tablet, you don’t find out until the evening of the first day of celebrations.

As your people’s cheers, laughter, and music filter in through the long wall of windows that Thor’s had thrown open to let the joviality in, Loki crosses to the long couch across from the one where you sit with Thor.

Legs thrown across his lap, Thor’s hands gently massaging your calves and feet, you lean back against the cushions that Thor set up against the arm for you.

The sitting room is long, rectangular and faces the East side of the palace. You can’t see the entire city and have more of a mountain view than on the West side where your rooms are and you can see the expanse of the ocean.

Like the rest of the palace, it’s decorated in a mixture of wood and silver steel. The chandeliers above are carefully carved and wired, the lighting kept dim. The seats are also wood but covered with soft cushions for lounging and restful naps.

There’s a slightly simpler look to this sitting room. Relaxed.

Before you’d taken your break from being Queen, you hadn’t spent much time in this part of the palace. Nothing had called to you. The garden had been the only spot you’d sought out but this sitting room is quickly becoming your favorite.

“I like it in here,” you confess, smiling at Thor who’s still squeezing your foot gently.

He smiles and meets your gaze, “Why’s that?”

“Because Jane was never in here,” Loki supplies, swiping left on his tablet then turns it to face both of you. “We’ve got more energy signatures. New ones.”

You and Thor sit up a little straighter.

“What quadrant?”

Loki purses his lips and then turns the tablet back towards himself cutting off your look at a map of the night sky.

“All of them. Whatever it is, it’s jumping around. I think perhaps they know we’re watching.”

Swallowing hard, you scoot closer to Thor, pulling one of your legs down as you twist to face Loki a little better. Thor takes hold of your thigh instead as it rests over his and wraps his other arm around your waist, eager to have you close.

Both of you haven’t stopped touching each other since your return last night.

“What does that mean? If they’re trying to confuse us, then they’re headed for us, right?”

“I won’t let anything happen to you or our little one, cherub,” Thor’s reassurance comes softly, his smile confident but soft. “Whatever this is, we’ll be ready for it. Have you sent the data to the others?”

“Sif is coming in for a debrief and we’ll send her to relay the specifics in person. It will need some explanation and Fandral will probably only skim the information if we send it to him via email.”

“We must have all of our troops trained for whatever attack is to come. I’m not going to let someone jeopardize our place here on Earth. We will protect our people but we will show the humans that we will defend them too from any threats to come,” Thor declares, his voice deep and determined, even angry.

He doesn’t like someone threatening his new home. Not after what happened to Asgard. The stress is in his eyes and you lean against him which you’re glad does what you want.

It distracts him.

“I had Stark build you a safe room. He called it a panic room, I think? So, should something happen, you’re to go in there and lock yourself in while we deal with any threat.”

You nod but push yourself back again to rest against the arm of the sofa while stretching out your legs again. It feels good and you sigh heavily as you rub your belly. Sitting scrunched up like that had been annoying.

“I have been training though. Even pregnant. At home, Loki would spar with me and help me with my technique. The short swords aren’t heavy anymore.”

Thor looks at his brother who sits smiling proudly at you before he notices the edge in Thor’s electric blue eye.

“It was all done safely. She and the baby were never in danger. I thought it was foolish to have her out there without her swords and the training to go along with them. Just because she left didn’t mean that she could slack off. Don’t give me that look. You know as well as I do that she needs to know. Even carrying your child, it’s important for her to know. One might even say especially because she's carrying the heir."

Loki’s voice grows steadily more subdued. Sad. Like a bad memory is playing itself over in his mind.

“I was too late, Loki,” Thor interjects, drawing your gaze to him too. He also looks sad. “And if you hadn’t been in that cell you’d have been long gone. Neither of us could have saved her. And you’re right. I know how important it is.”

Thor looks at you and takes your feet back in his hands, “I’m glad you trained. Once our child is born you’ll have to show me those skills of yours.”

Despite the playful nature of his taunt, you can see that he and Loki are both still in the depths of their grief. They must be thinking of their mother.

"So, these energy signatures, you still have no idea who could be causing them?"

The question is pointless. You know they don't know but it's something to say when all you can do is worry silently.

“I have theories,” Loki admits, exchanging a careful look with Thor. “But nothing concrete. Nothing that would put you at ease.”

“I don’t need to be put at ease, Loki. I need to know if there’s something to worry about. This doesn’t just affect our family but our people. If we need to warn them, we can’t be hesitant. Earth deserves a heads up, too.”

This is your job right? The voice of both your new Asgardian family and the people of Earth? This is why you were required to marry Thor.

Thor’s hand increases in strength around your foot as he tries to calm you.

“You’re right, cherub. Loki only means that there is no evidence to prove his theories so until we can find something to link these strange power surges to what he thinks it might be, then we should play this safe and hold off on raising any alarms. Isn’t that right, Loki?”

“Mm,” Loki agrees, nodding.

You frown, pulling your leg off of Thor’s lap to sit down properly and face both brothers. They sit up a little straighter in response to your own rigid back, your hands on your lap.

This isn’t right, whatever they might think.

“No,” you shake your head and watch as Loki puts his tablet down.

Thor scoots forward, reaching over to take your hand. You let him because he’s not trying to comfort you anymore. Instead, this reach is one of support and when you look at his singular eye, the patch on his empty socket gleaming softly in the dim light of the room, you can see he’s intent on listening and understanding.

If Jane has made any positive impact on you and Thor, it’s this. He’s really listening to you.

“Thor, you and the Asgardians are a unique people. You’ve all had it hard and I’m not trying to say that your struggles haven’t been difficult, but by nature, just by the very way that you all are made and born, you are stronger. It’s in your body’s makeup.

“For someone like me, if I were to jump from that open window, I would die. If you or any of the other Asgardians jumped from that window, you’d probably ache for a while, maybe a few would even get a few broken bones or cuts but they’d be superficial wounds.

“You know from experience how fragile humans are. Both of you,” the look you give Loki pulls his gaze down to his feet. “We’re unprepared for anything other than each other. We need more of a warning than you. We need time to prepare.”

It all falls into place in your head and with confidence you turn to look at Thor, turning your hand over to take his in your own hand.

With a quick squeeze, you scoot just a little closer to him, “Thor, I need to speak to the ambassadors. We need to schedule an official meeting to give them the rundown on what we’ve been doing here and what we’re keeping an eye on. Because, knowing Tony, I’m sure he hasn’t said anything to anyone outside of the compound?”

Loki sits back, crossing his legs as he shuts his tablet off, “No. Stark is as preoccupied about raising the alarm as we are. But now that you mention it, I suppose both we and he are not looking at this from a regular civilian of Earth’s point of view.”

“Y/N,” Thor calls your attention back to him, “This could backfire. We could be doing more harm than good by sharing with them the information we’ve gathered.”

You shake your head, “Maybe you’re right. Maybe I’m jumping the gun here. The last thing I want to do is cause a panic. But I don't think that’ll happen. It’s not like we’re going to leak it onto the internet. We’re going to meet with the ambassadors and provide this information to world leaders so that they can prepare the way they see fit. Trust me, these prime ministers and presidents and kings aren’t going to just announce to their people that some alien threat is on the way. They don’t want to look out of control or unprepared.

“We need to give Earth’s humans a chance to defend themselves. Even if they end up needing our help, they deserve to know.”

Loki and Thor are silent for what feels to you like a long time. In reality, you know it must only be seconds. However, this is the first time you’ve pushed back with them. This is the first time you’re speaking on behalf of the human race.

It makes you nervous and anxious. Will they let you be Queen in this sense? Or is it all just show?

They look at each other, staring and communicating silently before Loki gets to his feet and turns his tablet back on.

“Well, if I’m to set up a meeting with the ambassadors, NATO, and the UN I should probably get started.”

Your heart explodes with pride. They’re letting you really rule! You’re making a difference. True change. Your excitement mingles with a sudden terror as you realize that your choices are going to affect what will be millions if not billions of people.

Luckily, Loki’s words also serve to distract you from your trepidation.

“Wait, Loki,” you hurry to your feet and scurry to his side before ripping the tablet from his hands and hiding it behind your back.

“Hey,” he protests, reaching around you to try and grab it.

You hurry back to Thor and instead of sitting beside him you plop yourself onto his lap and sit as close as you can to trap the tablet between your bodies.

You can hear Thor’s heart begin to pound. Aside from those kisses yesterday, this is the closest you’ve put yourself to him since you got back. He’d slept with you in your shared bedroom, but he’d laid facing you and you him, a good six inches between your bodies.

He wraps his arms around you, placing his hands along the swell of your tummy. You can almost feel him glowing with happiness.

“As eager as I am to give Earth a heads up, I also think you need a break. The energy isn’t going anywhere and the Warriors Three and Sif are on the watch. Please do me a big favor and just take a day or two? You’ve been at it like crazy since I left the palace and it would make me so happy if my baby’s Uncle Loki would take a breather. He’s gotta be strong and in tip-top shape if he’s going to keep up with his future nephew.”

“Or niece,” Thor interjects. “She’s right, Loki. Rest. We’ll get back on this in two days and you can set everything up then. The city is roaring with celebration. Go out and enjoy it. You always loved a good party.”

Loki glares at the pair of you, “Using the future prince or princess is blackmail. And if I’m out there, what will you two do?”

Thor smiles at him, reaching between your bodies to grab the tablet from where it’s hidden. He sets it aside and his other hand trails over your side before wrapping around your waist to cup your bump again.

“I’m sure my queen and I will find something to keep us occupied. Making up for lost time, perhaps?”

Your neck burns but you grin up at Loki who fixes you with a knowing smile, “Of course. How silly of me. Well, let me not keep you from reacquainting yourselves with each other. If you have need of me, I will be around. Just call.”

“Have fun, Loki,” you call after him.

As he shuts the door, Thor tilts your head to the side, pulling you back against his chest fully so that he can kiss you without prompting.

“Sleeping beside you once more was dreamlike, cherub,” Thor tells you, low and full of want.

“And what would make it more real for you?”

“Shall I show you?”

And he waits, like the jerk that he is. He literally just dangles the carrot in front of you. His hard body pressed against your back, the heat of his legs seeping through your clothes to your skin.

His hands trace tantalizing circles around your stomach but make the slightest tickles to the fold of your pelvis. You hate him!

“Oh my god, hurry up, dummy.”

That’s all the invitation he needs. In an instant you’re in his arms as he settles you on the sofa, his hands already yanking and pulling at your clothes but when your tummy is exposed, he drops to his knees and worships your pregnant body with gentility and softness.

At least until you growl and yank him up to finish what he’s started.

~~~~~~~~~~

The sheets against your skin feel soft as silk. They’re slightly sticky but that’s more to do with your own body’s sweat.

“Why are you up?” Thor’s voice is heavy with sleep.

It’s thick and rough. It makes you smile and your ears burn because he sounds delicious and you missed mornings like this.

“I’m hungry,” you admit.

Thor tumbles from the bed, dragging with him the heavier faux fur blanket that sits at the foot of your bed for decoration usually. He wraps it around his waist and pulls the cord by the door.

“I already called them, puppy,” you assure him, and he smiles sleepily at you before moving towards you.

“I missed my term of endearment. Why a dog?”

As he reaches you, you open your sheet and his eyes roam the length of your naked body before he gets all handsy and dives into the sheet with you, eventually settling his hands on your bum. No groping, just resting. Then slowly he trails his fingers up along the sides of your back up to your shoulders and back down.

It leaves your skin full of goosebumps and you shiver. He misinterprets it and instead of stopping his stroking, he uses his flat hand to create friction instead.

“It’s not a dog, it’s a puppy. They’re cute and they’re kinda, I don’t know, like...clueless?” You laugh because that’s not the word you were looking for but it’s what comes out.

“Uh, excuse me, I have plenty of clues,” Thor argues, but he doesn’t seem offended.

“That’s not the right word,” you laugh again. “I don’t know how to describe it. I just want to squeeze you and cuddle you because you’re like this big blonde golden retriever only sexier.”

Thor makes his thinking face as he tries to pull up the picture of the dog breed you just compared him to, and he nods slowly.

“I think I can live with that,” Thor smiles down at you then leans to meet your lips.

You kiss him eagerly, your bodies both humming with anticipation even though you spent the last two days--practically--in bed.

Both of you know that there’s a time when this lust might not necessarily fade but dull a bit? Then again, it is Thor and he’s ravenous for you almost all the time.

You chuckle against his lips and he pulls back to look at you.

“What has you laughing so adorably?”

You let go of the sheet and before it can fall, Thor replaces your hands with his own to hold it up around you both. With free hands you’re able to trace the length of his arms, tracing the large curves. His skin is so damn soft.

You’re still not sure if that’s a Thor thing or an Asgardian God thing? What you know is that you love it and your fingers eat it up every time you touch him.

Whatever laugh or trace of humor you had falls away as you start to really look within yourself and examine why you’re so happy.

You shove your arms underneath his and wrap your arms around him, small whisper slaps of his skin as your hands are splayed out along his wide back. You press your ear against his chest. The thud of his heart is strong and slightly speedy, probably in response to your sudden shift in mood.

The swell between both of you, the little life kicking in response to your mood pulls both your attention for a few seconds before you find your voice.

“I missed you, Thor. More than I thought I would. Way more than I ever knew I could.”

The somber tone of your voice has him giving you a nice gentle squeeze. He likes having you right there right up against him just as much as you like being there.

“Well, you were very angry with me,” Thor reminds you. “I didn’t know your face could make those expressions. That day at your home?”

You hug him tighter, staring out at the small bloom of sunrise in the distance. It’s very slightly starting to glisten on the still ocean line.

“I was angry. But it was more than that.”

“I know,” Thor kisses the top of your head. “I hurt you. What I said, I-I didn’t mean it, cherub. I promise you. It was a temporary insanity. The moment you came into that room after I said what I did, I knew that I could never go through with it. And if you’d told me that we were expecting a child-”

“I couldn’t,” you sigh, leaning back to look up at him. “In my head, if I told you then after what you'd said that I was pregnant and you chose to stay with me, I would live the rest of my life wondering whether you chose me because you really loved me or because I was finally going to give New Asgard their heir.”

Thor’s face crumbles a little, brow scrunched, mouth pulled down at the corners as he shakes his head.

“I will always choose you. Not because you are the mother of my children, but because you are the love of my life. The one I did not expect. The one that I can never chance to lose again. I’m sorry that I ever made you doubt me.”

Staring into his eye, the intensity of his gaze, you know that he means what he says. He loves you.

Even though you can’t admit it to him because your reconciliation needs all of the positivity that you can both muster, in your heart, you can’t help but wonder if you can truly trust him.

~~~~~~~~~~

The days go by like routine after the Asgardians find that they have to go back to their jobs and lives.

As much as they all love a good party, Thor and Loki included if the last two days are any indication, they know they can't keep going and must get back to life as usual.

Thor at first makes an attempt to stay with you. The last few months of being without each other makes it difficult to be apart and for Thor especially, with the baby.

He hates leaving you. He wants to be there for every kick and every shift.

His largest grievance is that he can't listen to your laugh when the baby kicks and it feels weird. This you only find out because Loki, in his annoyance with the constant trips Thor makes him do to check on you when he's in his meetings.

Although you believe Loki, you take all of these little indicators of Thor’s love with ease but with the knowledge that it might very well be fleeting.

You try not to think about it and instead just allow yourself to enjoy the fact that Thor does indeed love you and you love him too. Even if it may not be forever. Even if it can change. Even if the future is now a little less certain.

Your meeting with the ambassadors approaches quickly. It takes a month to set it up. Longer than you'd thought and it doesn't take long to understand why.

"This is the third time they've pushed the meeting back," you gripe, moving over to Loki’s computer to look over his shoulder at the surprisingly very short email.

Please inform Her Majesty, the Queen of Asgard, that we are unable to meet with her as previously scheduled this week and will be in contact as to the next available day.

Should any true trouble arise, please tell Thor that we are more than happy to meet with him.

Sincerely,

Earth AMB Mark Coates

You're seething. You've never been this angry. Never this absolutely heated. Not even with Thor and what happened with Jane can compare to the absolute rage flowing through your veins.

"They don't seem to take you seriously," Loki realizes. "Because you're a woman?"

"Partially, probably," you growl as you move back around his desk to sit in the padded armchair by the window where you'd been watching Thor visit with the Valkyrie.

He's not there anymore though and you can see Hilde and her girls relaxing a little. Adjusting their armor, laughing, sitting and talking. Now that their inspection is over they can breathe.

Why they get so nervous you don't understand. Thor’s such a fanboy. He gushes about them constantly.

"What other reason might there be?" Loki asks, rising and moving around his desk to lean against it casually, hands shoved into the inky black pockets of his slacks.

His jade vest is unbuttoned and the sleeves of his dark gray button-up folded up to his elbow.

Summer is almost here and it's getting hotter.

You don't answer right away. Hands slowly stroking your belly, trying to calm down for the baby's sake. Feeling that upset can't be good for him.

You take a long deep inhale and with a heavy sigh release the stress.

"My Queen?" Loki urges, and you smile.

Realizing he's calling you by your title to reaffirm your place among them to make you feel better, you turn your smile on him.

"You've always been my biggest supporter. You and David," your smile falters. "I miss him."

"Is he still in Baghdad?"

"Yeah. He’s in deep so, no contact. I hope he's okay."

"You know, you do have a part time Avenger as a husband and the best magician for a brother-in-law. One word and we'd be happy to assist with your lawyer's extraction."

"Which is why I don't ask. If he needs help, David will let us know. He has his panic button."

The gift had been given to you by Tony who had made it for you to press when you and Thor had been estranged. An easy way to call for Thor if something should happen.

Your brother-in-law nods.

"I suppose it would be a little like nepotism. Fine. What should I do about the misogynistic email?" Loki wonders.

"He's not exactly a misogynist. Not completely anyway. The ambassador blowing me off has more to do with me specifically than it does with me being a woman."

This seems to set Loki off more than if the ambassador was doing this because you're a woman.

"What right does he have to snub the Queen of Asgard? Doesn't he know what that might do to relations between Earth and our people?"

You shake your head, smiling because his anger makes you feel better.

"No, he doesn't. Because to the world my marriage to Thor is show. It's a necessary political move. They don't care whether Thor and I love each other and Jane and Thor’s relationship was so publicized that it’s hard for them to accept that Thor might actually love me.

"Thor went to extreme lengths to protect Jane in the past. Public displays of affection like that aren't forgotten easily.

"To the ambassadors and probably most of the world, offending me doesn't mean an offense against Thor. To them, I'm a queen in name only. No real power here."

Loki huffs through his nose, standing straight with his hands at his waist before he turns to walk back behind his desk.

He stops for a moment, thinking hard you guess, then whips around and stomps towards you before shoving his finger towards the windows.

"I know it has been a while for me, but I can very easily open another tear in space over New York. Or wherever you need me to. I might need a bit of time to locate the power and forces to do it but I will show the people.of Earth what happens when they underestimate the love of the Asgardian people for their queen."

Leaning back in your chair, you keep your arms around your bump as you watch Loki make his threat.

"That's a bit much for a dude who just thinks that my political marriage is just that, isn't it?"

You keep your face clear of amusement, because it really is very sweet of him to be so upset for you. But you can't help the small smile that stretches your lips.

He deflates, moving to other armchair across from yours and sits but leans forward with his elbows on his knees.

"It's shameless disrespect, Y/N. We cannot let them get away with it. You are Asgardian now. A slight against you is a slight against this Kingdom."

"I know, Loki. But-"

Behind Loki his office door opens. It faintly creeks and through it pokes Thor’s searching gaze.

He looks confused as he scans the room until he spots the two of you and with a little skip in his step and a wide unfettered smile, he shuts the door and moves towards you.

"Hi," you smile at him widely in reaction to the loveable look on his face.

"Hello," Thor replies, his voice low and quiet as he leans down towards you.

"You finished early today," you observe, voice just as quiet.

"You know I hate being apart," Thor whispers and presses his lips to yours.

His kiss is so soft and slow.

He pulls away too quickly and as your heart stutters, you reach up to hook your hands into the sides of his chest plate and pull him back down for another kiss.

He'd worn his full uniform today for an early meeting and the inspection of the Valkyrie. He looks so good but with his hair growing in, now just past his shoulders.

He still has the two small braids you'd worked in on the left side of his head and he looks so good, you might jump him later. If you don't pass out for an afternoon nap.

He pulls away again, this time smiling brightly.

"Will I always get this welcome if I come home early? I might have to shorten my days."

You chuckle as he moves around you and stops by a side table where Loki keeps a few weapons on display on a stand. He starts to remove his harder pieces of armor and places them aside.

"What has you looking so stern, brother?" Thor asks, keeping his back to you both as he moves onto the leather pieces that keep his chain mail from shifting.

Loki sits back, sighing heavily as he considers how much to tell Thor.

"Something I should worry about? Come. Tell me and lessen your burden."

"He's upset for me. That's all."

You hear the clink of Thor's mail as it falls on the table then he's moving around your right to squat by your chair so that he's below your eye level.

"Upset for you? Why?" His look of concern is upsetting and pleasing at the same time.

You purse your lips and look at Loki.

"It might be easier if I showed you," he says then rises and moves to his desk to get his tablet.

Thor reaches out to place his hand on your belly and you place yours over his.

He smiles at you then leans down to kiss your tummy while you run your fingers through his hair and try to ignore the utterly breathtaking and heartaching butterflies that his sweet love on your baby gives you.

"I missed you," he whispers to you.

Again, your heart stutters. He’s so easy with his words. These declarations feel so good but that little voice in the back of your head also makes your heart ache.

You just smile at him. Unable to speak when you feel like you're glowing and grieving at the same time.

"Here," Loki holds out the tablet and Thor stands then takes it.

He moves to the loveseat across from your and Loki's armchairs and plops down before reading.

You watch him, admiring the out of armor look. His black leather pants are just as hugging as they always are. His top, a dark gray long sleeve made with breathable fabric leaves no room to wonder just how defined his muscles are.

He's Asgardian perfection.

He breathes in deeply then exhales loudly, a passing shadow of rage overcoming his Godly features before he tosses the tablet at Loki lightly who catches it easily.

Thor spreads his legs a little, tapping his heels as he throws his left arm along the back of the small sofa, his other hand resting on his thigh.

"Write the bastard and tell him I'm requesting the meeting then. Then my cherub and I will both be waiting to give him both the information he needs to warn Earth and a piece of my mind."

You look down at your feet, heart pounding and stomach tumbling with nerves.

You don't want to be the reason any rifts come between New Asgard and Earth. The whole purpose of the position you hold is to protect the citizens of this city.

"Thor," you warn, turning to meet his gaze only when you know you can handle it.

"He wants me to contact him, so I will. In fact, send a raven instead. Do the works. Scroll. Seal. And when they arrive, give them a royal welcome with trumpets and a guard."

"Thor…"

"They will not disrespect you and find warm welcomes in my home. You are my wife. My Queen! Even if all they assume is between us is political agreement, they should respect the title you hold. We may not be above them, but we do outrank them an they need to know that you are not to be messed with.

"The fact that I love you only makes my resolve stronger."

"Okay. I get it, puppy. And I'm grateful to both you and Loki for standing up for me. With your tempers, no one would believe you aren't blood related. Sheesh."

You gran hold of the arms of your chair and groan only a little as you push yourself up onto your feet.

"Oof," you reach back and place your hand on your waist.

Thor’s arm immediately extends out towards you. Beckoning you to his side.

It takes you a moment but you get your footing back and move for him. As soon as you're within reach his arm is around you, helping you sit down carefully.

He doesn't let you sit back all the way. He pushes you to your left so that you'll shift and sit angled while he sits up straighter and turns to face you.

With gentle but firm hands he starts to work out the kinks and knots in your back.

Unintentionally you moan with relief. Thor’s eyes are on Loki though.

"What was your idea?"

"I offered to open another tear in space above whatever city she deemed proper. With the allowance of time to find both the power to do so and the army to lead through it."

You can't see Thor expression but when he speaks, his disapproving sounds fake.

"I'm not sure even idly that threat is in good taste. But I understand the sentiment."

"Do you really want me to make all of that fuss to make the ambassador come and meet with you?"

"Yes. I think he needs to be humbled. He may be in a position of power and my Y/N may owe her marriage to their insistence and meddling, but she is Queen and they are speakers for Earth. They would not have jobs had we not come to live here. Their disrespect of our Queen is a slight on our people.

"The moment I took Y/N under my banner is the moment she became Asgardian from the tips of her cute toes to the top of her irresistible head. And with our child on the way, they should know better."

Loki gets to his feet and moves towards the door, "Very well. One royal invitation coming right up."

As he leaves, Thor’s focus is diverted completely to you.

"Does that feel good, love?"

You only moan in return.

Thor chuckles and keeps going for a few minutes longer before you push back towards him and he lets you rest your back against his chest.

You can't be scrunched forward too long before your stomach begins to feel squished.

You look straight up at his face and he smiles.

"Hi," you tell him.

"Hello."

You smile.

"Was the massage satisfactory?"

"Mmmm, it was great. Your hands are godly, puppy."

Thor chuckles at the pun but leans forward to kiss the tip of your nose.

"And you, my sweet cherub, are a Goddess. And I will make sure you are treated as such."

#king!thor x reader #thor x reader #arranged marriage au #royal au #thor odinson x reader #king!thor x reader fanfiction #king!thor x reader fanfic #king!thor x reader fic #king!thor x you #thor x reader fanfiction #thor x reader fanfic #thor x reader fic #thor x you #avengers au #marvel au #marvel fanfiction #a wife for thor #a wife for thor pt23

[itscominghome]

Hey bestie , I love what you write . Can you do one with mason , where they are dating and she gets negative comments and like she feels very bad but didn’t tell him . At the end he finds out and he takes her defens .💕💕

thank you for your request :) sorry it took so long x

Summary: Since you and Mason made your relationship public three months ago, you have received negative and abusive messages from fans. But when everything takes a drastic turn, Mason is there to protect you and takes to social media afterwards to shut down all the abuse and threats.

Warnings: Derogatory language

I'll Always Protect You

"Mason deserves better"

"Slut"

"You're not even that pretty"

"What does Mount see in you"

"I wish he'd just hurry up and break up with you"

"Lets be honest, you wouldn't look twice at him if he wasn't who he was"

"You're just with him for the money"

"I know where you live"

"Break up with him, we know where you live"

These were just some of the many Instagram messages I would receive daily. Some were just calling me names or making me out to be a gold-digger and the sorts. But those on the worse end of the spectrum, those threatening me made me feel sick in the stomach. They had started just over three months ago after Mason and I had gone public with our relationship and they hadn't stopped, only gotten worse. I hadn't told Mason about any of them, I mean surely all of the threats were empty, just a series of words strung together to try and scare me. But part of me was scared that if Mason saw them, he'd start to believe them himself.

"What you looking at, baby," Mason asks from beside me on the bed, sounding concerned. I realised that there must've been a shift in my emotions and immediately plastered a smile onto my face.

"Nothing, Mase," I reply, my voice unsteady. I hate lying to him.

"Tell me you're not reading one of those stupid articles about us again," he says, looking at me, a look of sadness on his face. On top of the private messages I had been receiving, there were a few articles online from gossip sites and even big newspaper companies slating our relationship. Of course, Mason knew about those, there was no way to keep them quiet.

"I don't care what they say, I love you," he would affirm every time he saw one or caught me reading one.

Mason had stayed over at my house last night, not yet moved in with each other, but today wasn't one of the days we could have a lazy day. A day spent cuddling up to each other in bed, doing nothing but watch films, or catch up on the latest episode of 'Married at Frist Sight', which Mason would repeatedly remind me he hated (he loved it really). But, unfortunately, Mason did have training on my day off. I felt him press a kiss to the top of my head before the bed dipped beneath me as he started getting ready.

"I'll come and pick you up later and we can go out for a meal or something," he promised as he opened the door thirty minutes later, pecking my lips lightly.

"Sounds good," I smile, "I love you,"

"I love you too," he says before closing the door and making his way to his car.

Tap. Tap. I looked up from the TV to look around for the source of the tapping noise. I noticed it almost straight away and my heart skipped a beat. There was someone outside my window, tapping on the glass, wearing a black balaclava. I froze in my seat, my hands shaking. He continued tapping for a few more seconds before moving to another window and continuing. Then he moved to the door, jiggling the handle in an attempt to open it. At this point, I start to panic, even more, rushing around looking for my phone.

"Where is it..? Where the fuck did I leave it..?" I whisper to myself as I rush upstairs, extremely distressed. I find it on my bedside table in my room and immediately dial Mason. Ring ring. Ring ring. Ring ring.

"Come on, pick up, pick up, Mase." Ring ring. Ring r-.

"Baby, you can't be missing me that much already, I've only been gone for ten minutes," he jokes light-heartedly.

"Mase..." I say, unable to form a coherent sentence.

"Baby, what's wrong? What's happening? Talk to me," he says, concern evident in his voice.

"Someone's outside, they... they were at the window... tapping it. And... And then they... they started trying to open the door. I can hear them shouting through the letterbox and hitting the door. Mase, I don't know what to do," I say, tears streaking down my face.

"Shit... I'm turning around right now, I'll be back as quick as I can, lock yourself in the bathroom or something, just in case they get in. Stay on the phone," I nod, trying to steady my breathing. On my way to the bathroom across the hall, I can hear the abusive muffled shouts. I pray to God that Mason can't hear what is being said through the phone.

I hear Mason's car pull up in the driveway and his car door slam shut. I unlock the bathroom door and race downstairs where I can see him attempting to confront my perpetrator before he runs away. I open the door, tears of terror still staining my cheeks. Mason sees me and runs over, pulling me into a hug

"Hey, hey it's okay, they're gone, I'm here now. I've got you," he comforts, taking me back into the house and sitting me down to calm me down.

"I didn't think they were being serious..." I say under my breath.

"Baby, what are you on about?" I try my best to play it off as nothing, but Mason won't listen.

"It was just a few messages, it doesn't matter,"

"Show me them," I reluctantly pass him my unlocked phone and he scrolls through my message requests.

"Why didn't you tell me..." he says with a frown, clearly upset that I had not confided in him.

"I thought that if you saw them, you'd start to believe what everyone was saying,"

"Oh, baby..." he whispers, pulling me into his chest, "Nothing anyone says will ever change how I feel about you. Go and get yourself a bag packed and you can come to training with me,"

"It has recently come to light the amount of hate, abuse and downright threats have been hurled at my girlfriend, Y/N. And to tell you the truth, I'm disgusted. So, I've come to Instagram to address it.

I was unaware of how much abuse had been projected onto her until earlier today when I read some of the messages she has been receiving on both Instagram and Twitter. Most accounts claimed to be Chelsea fans, but as I'm sure all of my teammates would agree, to verbally abuse one of our partners, someone that I LOVE, does not qualify you as a Chelsea fan.

I had obviously seen all of the news articles, those I could look past, but the threats became very real today. I am sure that those of you who messaged threats like "We know where you live, break up with him," were all just empty words. But today, I had to drive back to Y/N's house after leaving for training after receiving a phone call from her, telling me that someone was tormenting her in her own home. If this happens again, it WILL become a matter that will need to be treated more seriously.

Finally, I would like to say that no online abuse of anyone should be tolerated. People in the public eye have feelings too, they are human too. It is never okay to attack someone for loving who they love. I know that this message will not stomp out all of the abuse, but I hope that the majority of you are mature enough to take what I have said into account and will consider what you say before you send it.

M19" I read aloud to myself when I see that Mason has posted. I feel a pair of arms snake their way around my waist, pulling me closer into his body. Mason.

"Thank you for protecting me today,"

"I'll always protect you,"

Sorry I'm taking ages to write requests, I have been so busy with coursework and homework as of late. That, and posting about 30 things about the match today. So, sorry for the spam, but I hope you enjoyed this request! <33

#mason mount #mm19 #m19 #chelsea fc #ktbffh

[zevexsii]

naib subedar sfw + nsfw hcs (gn s/o)

cut for length and nsfw content !

sfw 

another difficult person to enter a relationship with. naib has lost too much to feel comfortable getting close to someone he knows isn’t going to stay close- you’re in it for the long run. 

in matches, you’re naib’s first priority (when you’ve been assigned to a team together, of course). the second naib notices you’ve been chaired, he’s headed your way as fast as he can. typically, he’d like you to stick together so he can keep a safe eye on you, but naib’s not too pressed if you two split of your own volition. 

there’s an incredibly low chance of being injured during a match with naib. if you’re wounded at the end, it’ll be small scratches or a bruise here and there. regardless of how small or shallow any of your scratches may be, naib is cleaning and bandaging them up, scolding you for being so reckless the entire time. 

he’s another big eater! devours anything you make and is more than happy to show you how to cook nepalese food. cook for him and let him curl up and rest his head on your shoulder afterward and he’ll be tempted to marry you on the spot

loud noises overwhelm naib extremely easily. crowds also make him edgy and anxious. when naib’s panicky, he gets annoyed and will probably snap at you- he would do best with a relatively calm s/o who’s able to keep their head in stressful situations. 

if you’re looking for ways to calm him down, don’t go to overwhelming physical affection right off the bat. someone trying to wrap their arms around him will be seen as a threat to naib’s safety and would only trigger his ptsd even more. instead, grab one of his hands and try to help him regulate his breathing. remind him that he’s safe with you, that there’s nothing to worry about. when naib needs physical comfort, he’ll seek you out. this tactic goes for calming him down after nightmares, too.

the most comforting position for naib is allowing him to sit on your lap and bury his head in your chest- he’s caught between the urge to hide from everything and the urge to protect you. like this, he’s got a solid rock of refuge and it feels like he’s shielding you from any perceived danger. 

undo his strict ponytail and massage naib’s scalp and he’ll be passed out in a heartbeat, snoring softly, his grip on your clothes tight as ever. 

on naib’s bad days, he’s practically glued to your hip. he’s terrified something horrible’s going to happen to you- like the things that happened to his fellow soldiers or even worse, the things he’s done and (seen done) to other people during his time as a hired mercenary. it’s scary, who can blame him? 

wouldn’t mind too much if his partner was into pda, but would feel uncomfortable reciprocating the vast majority of it. naib’s still trying to unlearn the “vulnerability is bad” mindset. he’s been surrounded by that idea his entire adult life, so give him time. this has been touched on before, but hand-holding makes naib soft!! whether you’re enjoying a mellow walk through the manor gardens or lingering in the lobby post-match, one of naib’s calloused hands will find a way to intertwine with yours. 

making naib blush is difficult. very few things can force their way into the chinks in his stoic armor, but soft kisses pressed to his cheek are guaranteed to send an intense flush to his face

if you’re too shy or uncomfortable with pda, you can bet naib’s doing everything he can to fluster you in a safer setting. you’re doing dishes? surprise smooch! indulging in some much-needed downtime? smooch! if naib’s feeling cocky and the time is right, he’ll land his lips somewhere on your face right after you’ve finished a calibration during a match

not too huge on nicknames!! your name is satisfying to say, and naib doesn’t think anything he could call you would fit any better. if you hear him mumble a sleepy “sweetheart” in the middle of a cuddle session while he tries to pull you closer, no you didn’t

naib’s idea of a perfect day ends in a steamy shower or relaxing bath with his s/o. nothing spicy, just soft moments with his love. once y’all are dried and done, throw on your pajamas or one of naib’s shirts (if you’re small enough- mans is 5’6”) and crawl into bed. naib tends to curl in on himself (think fetal position) if you aren’t there- a lot of times he ends up unintentionally becoming the little spoon. 

when naib wants to hold you close, his arms will snake around your waist and he’ll invite you to lay your head on his chest or burrow your face in his neck. when you wake up, it’ll most likely be to naib pestering you in the most loving way possible- ever the early riser, this one. 

nsfw

naib can’t really be pinned down to any specific top or bottom role (no pun intended). during the beginning of your intimate relationship with him, naib leans towards taking a dominant role. it’s indescribably difficult for naib to relinquish control over a non-intimate situation, so you can imagine leaning back and letting go would be even harder. 

gets incredibly handsy when he’s horny. won’t hesitate to seek you out, either. naib doesn’t see the point of masturbation if he has a partner, but he respects your boundaries if you’re not in the mood. 

going back to the surprise kissing bit earlier, when naib wants to let you know he wants to fuck, he’ll pin you up against the closest surface or loop his arms lazily around your shoulders (if you’re short enough) and smash his lips into yours a little rougher than usual- nibbling on your bottom lip right before pulling away. 

has a bit of a fixation on oral. favors receiving over giving slightly, but is still addicted to the way you taste. for masc readers, it’s literally impossible to gag him. to be entirely honest, you could facefuck him with very little resistance. naib wouldn’t hesitate to use you and he expects you to treat him the same way.

 tug on the sheets ever so slightly while he’s sucking your cock and naib will drag your hand to the top of his head, reminding you to pull his hair.

for fem readers, he’ll slowly spread apart your sopping pussy and the corner of his mouth will lift up in a pleased smirk, his rough hands buried in the plush of your thighs. if you attempt to rut your hips against him, naib’ll put an end to that right quick, pinning your hips to the bed, his grip tight enough to leave bruises. 

no matter what, naib’s covering every inch of your bottom half he can reach in hickeys and bruises, occasionally leaning back to admire his handiwork, leaving poor you all needy and aching, whimpering pitifully. 

he’ll look up at you underneath his dark brown eyelashes when you cum, feeling up your sides and pulling your hips closer to his face. the whines his actions pull from your throat will never cease to satisfy him. 

when naib has pleasured you to your mutual satisfaction, he’ll sit up and wipe his mouth on the back of his hand, intentionally smearing your fluids across his face, grinning hungrily as he stares down at you.

now, when you’re sucking naib off, things can get intense pretty damn fast. one moment you’re gently stroking his cock (decently sized too, a good 6-7 inches, average girth), and the next he’s got you by the hair, ramming his dick in your mouth. might accidentally cage you in with his thicc thighs- he’s lost in the feeling of your pretty lips around him, what can he say? gently tap him on the leg and he’ll loosen up a little bit. 

groans loud. louder than he does when he’s actually having sex (at least when he’s topping). the noises he makes are nothing short of animalistic; low growls and heavy moans, straight from his chest. you might have to stop him and remind him to relax. there’s much more to come (no pun intended), and it wouldn’t to well to have naib tire himself out now. his breath will hitch in his chest when you suddenly pull back, but he’ll give you a shaky nod when you tell him to calm down. 

really makes a show of undressing, unless he’s been super pent up lately or something happened to pull out jealous naib. naib isn’t as buff as one might expect; he’s more of the lean type, his strength concentrated in his shoulders and core muscles.

naib’s torso is littered with various scars, some deeper and more noticeable than others. he doesn’t like to admit it, but they’re definitely an insecurity of his. run your fingers over them, or press your lips to the most obvious one, and naib’s heart aches (in a good way, of course). it feels so tender, so soft, so warm to be accepted and wholly loved, regardless of any self-labeled flaws and mistakes. but, mr subedar needs more. 

so he stuffs himself inside of you, letting out a breathy groan at the sudden contact and throwing his head back in delight. when he’s sure that movement wouldn’t cause you too much discomfort, he’ll begin to sloppily thrust himself back and forth, panting heavily. he’s breathing too hard to let out a coherent sentence, egged on by your moans as he angles himself as deeply inside of you as possible. 

depending on how long foreplay lasted, naib can go anywhere from 2-4 rounds. he’s already quite sloppy and forceful, so you can imagine how he gets when he’s tired- sweat beads on his forehead and his chest heaves with every breath, each of his desperate thrusts deep enough to make you see stars. 

naib views cumming inside of you as more intimate, but if you’re uncomfortable with that, he’ll pull out and empty himself onto your stomach. if you have a uterus, he’ll do his best to pull out anyways- considering your current setting, neither of you can really afford a pregnancy scare. 

as mentioned above, naib is more of a top-leaning switch. he defaults to domming because it puts him in control, so you’d have to have a strong relationship with him already. 

if you want naib to sub, you’d have to initiate sex. naib values people who are outright with their intentions, so hold true to that. settle yourself on his lap, arms linked lazily around his shoulders, and press a few soft kisses to the side of naib’s neck. this is the point where he’ll tense up and either gently tell you he isn’t in the mood, or tug you closer. 

naib doesn’t mind where you take him, as long as it’s in a private space. probably has a thing for being fucked on furniture anyway. oral (for both parties) is fine in semi-public spaces- the risk gets naib off more than he’d like to admit- but penetration is reserved for you to witness, and you alone. 

pay special attention to the sensitive spots on naib’s neck and he’ll turn into a whining mess under your touch. grind down on his lap as you gently undo his low ponytail- grab a fistful of his soft hair near the nape of his neck and watch him turn to mush.

in any situation (domming or subbing) naib’s particular to the missionary position. it gives him a perfect view of his s/o at all times.

prep him thoroughly if you want to fuck him in the ass or peg him. he has very limited experience with being penetrated, so no matter how many times naib roughly groans for you to “hurry up and fuck him already”, make sure he’s lubed up and ready to go.

gasps so loud?? when you push your cock or a strap-on inside of him, his entire body goes rigid for a second, and his eyes roll back in his head. it’s delightful. let him shift around for a moment- he’s still getting used to the hot, full feeling that’s overwhelming his senses. naib will grunt out when he’s ready for you to move.

 naib tries to give you what he’d want from a partner; hard, sloppy thrusts with no particular rhythm that leave you aching for more. in barely any time at all, naib is squirming underneath you, choking out requests for “more” and “harder” between half-baked curses that die on his lips. when he cums for the last time, you can see all of the tension leave his shoulders and his final yelp of ecstasy fades into a content sigh.

as far as aftercare goes, naib prefers showering with you over taking a bath. it’s quicker and more convenient, and at this point, naib is puckered out. he just wants to crawl into bed with his s/o. 

falls asleep real quick! it’s lights out as soon as naib’s head hits the pillow and he’s sure you’re in his arms or vice versa. 

gosh i love myself one (1) mercenary 

#damn i REALLY went ham on this one #anyways it's 3am #night yall #naib subedar #naib subedar x reader #idv #identity v #idv x reader #idv x reader headcanons #identity v x reader #identity v x reader headcanons #idv smut #identity v smut #mercenary x reader #idv mercenary #idv naib #identity v mercenary #identity v mercenary x reader

[fragileizywriting]

i think i know where to put this, but, anyway, i would like to write the beginning of a fic where marinette is fucking gone in a book. just gone. she has a pizza slice in one hand and her phone in another and she is scrolling so hard she’ll end up with some kind of joint problem on her thumb, completely enraptured with it, mouthing at the pizza crust.

luka looks up when she goes pawing for a second slice and finds the pizza box empty. “are you reading porn?”

“no.” she looks around for the other boxes. they always end up getting three, because adrien is on his mission to eat the most ridiculous combinations, and luka eats a whole pie by himself, and that leaves marinette to either succumb into eating whatever adrien doesn’t like, or get her own. pepperoni is always such a favorite. “hey, where is my—”

“you ate all of it already.”

well. okay. that’s weird. she must’ve been more caught up in her reading than she thought. “what? no i only ate a slice—”

adrien snorts. “no, beautiful, you really ate the whole thing. what flavor was it?”

“…pepperoni.”

“it was margarita.” oh. well, shit. luka’s eyes sparkle like stars from how much he wants to laugh. “you sure you’re not reading porn?”

“no, i—” she looks up and blushes, putting her phone face down on the table and scratching at the back of the phone case. “why, exactly?”

luka points to his chest. marinette pouts in the silence. ah. well.

“sorry. too loud?”

“i just don’t get why you’re wishing for a rich guy to rail you,” adrien scrunches his nose. “i’m a rich guy who rails you.”

“i want to be a sugar baby.”

“you refuse to take my money whenever i offer it to you! you have access to my whole bank account, princess, and you don’t take a cent!”

okay, well, yeah, but it’s different. “i want to be looked at across the bar with someone with danger in their eyes and a threat in their smile and—”

“that person is someone you’d never approach at a bar,” luka raises a brow.

she sours. “i want a rich vampire demon to take me to his mansion and threaten to take my blood but also fall in love with me.”

“i hate vampires,” adrien makes another face. “it always makes me so squirmy. what do they need all that blood for, anyway? they always act as if they’re dead. they don’t even have a soul.”

oh for fucks sake.

“i want—”

“and we have a mansion already. the chateau—”

“you mean the castle in the countryside?” she raises a brow.

“it’s too small to be a castle, but sure, that. is that not good enough, princess?”

“why can’t i live in a fantasy book?”

“angels and demons exist.”

“but—”

“and princes.”

“i’m in agony,” she moans. “this is so… plain.”

“not as cool as you’d imagined, huh?”

“i can’t believe i’m living a fairy tale and it’s not as glamorous as the books make it.” she purses her lips, flattening her eyes. “i mean if i told someone that i married an angel—”

“the angel,” adrien interrupts, hiding behind a smile when luka flicks an uneaten olive at him.

“and, like, the demon— god, i— ugh. someone would think that i was living in one of those novels that have an oil painting as a book cover.”

“with a title that’s something like out of the eighties.”

“exactly! meanwhile, real life is just like… i taught a— the— handsome demon prince just last month how to cook noodles.”

luka laughs. “and we live with a succubus that doesn’t actually trap her in her claws and never let us go.”

“unless i eat your peaches without asking,” adrien grins.

“you deserve hell for that,” she whines. “i bought those on sale, you know. real life isn’t like the books. succubi are sexualized by the media.”

“i wonder why!”

#speakizys #demon lovin

[yan-twst]

yan-twst’s yandere twst base guidelines

long story short, i’m tired of not writing yan characters consistently so this is more so a guide for MYSELF to write them consistently. it’s not going to be 100% coherent or like, poetic, because this is moreso a reminder for myself to know how i’m characterizing these boys, but i thought i might as well post it so everyone has an idea how i work with yan characters

warnings: death mentions, general yandere content, mentions of verbal and physical abuse, non consensual drug use, you know the drill

riddle rosehearts is desperate for control and affection. his mommy issues make him seek out the sort of coddling and care he never got from his mother, and at the same time makes him want to establish he’s the one in charge to feel safe. he is easily jealous, doesn’t mind getting his hands dirty if it’s for his darling. he can be manipulated by them in his weaker moments, but he’ll usually be able to tell when they’re trying to use him and retaliate. he wouldn’t be opposed to letting those he trusts oversee his darling. he’ll keep his darling in his dorm; they may be allowed to roam around with trey or maybe cater, but riddle fully expects them to only go out when he’s there.

ace trappola is sadistic and a bit immature. he likes to make his darling’s life hell, tear them down and make them cry until he’s the one who comforts them (not very well). he’s the standard “little kid teasing his crush in the playground”, except way more violent. ace trusts nobody with his darling- he’ll use threats and violence to get them to stay away. he mocks his darling for being weak. ace can’t really keep his darling locked up due to his dorm situation, but his verbal abuse and manipulation are enough to keep them silent about how he treats them

deuce spade is conflicted but selfish. his past as a delinquent makes violence come easily to him, and he might hurt his darling in an outburst of anger. likewise, he’ll get rid of people he thinks are “getting too close” to his darling with threats of physical violence, and he’ll easily make good on those threats if prompted. the idea of locking them up isn’t something that comes up naturally (besides, he can’t really do that), but he’s always waiting for his darling in the door of their dorm in the mornings and drops them off, making sure they aren’t wandering off. he has bouts of extreme sweetness, talking about how they “changed him”, bringing them flowers, making them meet his mom- a big contrast to his violent tantrums, but his sweetness is enough to make his darling think he might stop hurting them (and also fear of what he could do if they broke up with him)

trey clover is a manipulator. he doesn’t really need fancy tricks or strength to make his darling stick by his side. the fact everyone sees him as a friendly and helpful man means nobody questions his actions too much. he pushes his darling to act the way he wants them to, usually gaslighting them or guilt tripping them into doing as he wishes. trey will not lock up his darling, at least not in school, but he’ll make them feel like they aren’t allowed to talk to anyone or interact with anyone other than him. he’ll also freely twist his darling’s words to make people who try to get close to them stay away

cater diamond needs to be told he’s loved, be told he’s good. he craves to have a close connection to somebody, and he’s just not used to feeling so attached to someone. he’ll use lots of blackmail to keep his darling obedient. whether he kidnaps his darling or not depends on how easily he can do so: if they’re the MC, he might not do so, since he craves to take pictures and show the world who he’s dating, and if he kidnapped them and published those it’d be too obvious. however, his blackmail makes it enough that his darling doesn’t dare go against him. cater won’t use violence to get rid of “rivals”, but he’s very much willing to use rumours and blackmail to ruin them

leona kingscholar wants both a plaything and someone to treat him like a king. he will make his darling feel weaker and inferior to him, but he’ll also seek comfort in them. leona has no trouble using some physical violence to keep his darling in their place, nor does he have qualms in killing people who he sees as a threat. luckily, it takes a lot to get him to that point, since he’s quite lazy about the effort it takes to kill. he fully expects his darling to pamper him, but he often makes allusions that once he sets a life for himself, they’ll be his “queen” of sorts. ruggie absolutely knows this is going on, and leona will let him be around his darling once in a while, as long as he knows his limits. lots of jealousy towards his brother- mentioning him is a surefire way to get beat black and blue

ruggie bucchi wants someone to call his own. he’s possessive and jealous, and he’ll do all he can to make them be his. he treats them more like property than as a lover sometimes. at the same time, he’s very much a needy lover, and he’ll be whining and keening for constanta affection. physical violence isn’t usual in his darling, but he has no issue getting rid of others- he’s very, very good at getting rid of the body. he keeps his darling locked in his room out of jealousy, and he’s got no problems with using his unique magic to make them give him affection

jack howl feels bad about how he feels but ha can’t stop himself. he rationalizes that he’s “protecting” his darling from the outside world, seeing them as weak and helpless compared to him. he scales up slowly in his obsession, starting from walking them around to locking them in his room. he thinks his darling is being thankless for not appreciating his worry. jack will not use physical violence on his darling, but he might make empty threats just to make them understand he’s stronger. jack will be hesitant to kill for his darling, however if he gets mad enough and if someone seems to be trying to rescue them or contact them, he might snap

azul ashengrotto is desperate to be reassured. he often cries and guilt trips his darling, asking them to assure him he’s good enough for them. the way he treats his darling wildly varies on his mood; when he’s feeling confident he’ll use smooth talking and act in a way so gentlemanly it might be able to temporarily make them forget their situation, but when he’s in the deep end of his insecurities he’s all screams and tears. when he’s out of his mind, he might leave bruises on his darling, but it’s more of a lack of control than a desire to hurt. he lets the leech twins around- under his watch- and makes them make sure his darling doesn’t think of escaping lest they be hunted by the eels. he’ll absolutely use a contract to take away his darling’s magic, and by extension take away the magic of anyone he sees as a “threat”. likewise, he’ll sic the twins onto the “threats” 

jade leech is sadistic but calculating. he wants his darling to be dependent on him and him alone. upon kidnapping them, he makes sure to treat them nicely; bringing them warm food, physical comfort, etc. of course he also punishes quite liberally: however, he’s always careful in how he does it. he either makes it out to be entirely his darling’s fault so that he’s not “the bad guy”, or he might send in floyd to make them suffer. either way, jade is always the one to comfort them, and make them associate his presence with being well. jade absolutely keeps his darling locked up, and while he doesn’t like them being alone with someone else, he does let floyd or azul see them sometimes, maybe for dinner or something. jade has no problem killing to teach his darling a lesson, but he’s more often lowkey and clean about it

floyd leech does whatever he pleases. it doesn’t take much for him to decide to take his darling and force them into his room into the role of a toy for him to squeeze and bash around. floyd’s darling is always bruised and injured in some way- floyd sometimes treats their wounds, sometimes jade drops by to treat them, but he’s too rough for them to heal entirely. floyd rejoices in his darling’s tears and missery: he isn’t going to comfort them or try to make them love him, but rather demand they act how he wants when he wants and hurt them to get that. he’ll happily kill anyone his darling even as much as seems to think of- and he’ll also be very happy to show his darling the corpse and the gore to make them cry and sob

kalim a-asim truly doesn’t want to do his darling wrong. at first it’s his worries over his darling’s safety that makes him take action and lock them in the dorm; he prepares a room for them, lavish gifts and whatnot. kalim seems to be trying to buy his way into his darling’s heart, believing his actions can be forgiven with enough repentance (but not giving up what he’s gotten). although kalim would never harm his darling, he’ll chain them up so they can’t run, believing he’s doing the best. while kalim loathes violence and death, if he truly does believe it’s “needed”, he might pay his family’s assassins to silently get rid of threats, but he’ll be very careful to keep this a secret from his darling. talks a lot about the future and how he’ll marry his darling and how good life will be

jamil viper wants to be, for once, the most important person to someone. he wants to be seen for all he is and congratulated, worshipped. his obsession starts with being praised and given attention, and suddenly he wants more. jamil has no issue using his unique magic to keep his darling locked in his room and acting as he wants; however, he wants them to act like that out of their own accord. punishments may be verbal or physical, but in the end, he wants his darling to act like they love him without him having to hypnotize them. there’s a fair chance jamil will let kalim know about the situation, albeit word it in such a way kalim believes jamil’s darling is actually a willing lover and lend him an extra room to keep them in or something. jamil will try to avoid getting blood on his hands, but if he sees that it’s going to be better off it he kills people who may try to release his darling or expose him, he’ll gladly remove them from the scene

vil schoenheit finds peace in having someone to control and fuss over. his day to day life is very busy, always having something to do, something to study, maintain his image and his grades and his job. when it comes to his darling, vil feels relaxed when he can simply pamper them like a doll: to have some absolute control for once. he prides himself in how he “polishes” his darling. vil will use any sort of potion, from potent love potions to numbing or calming draughts to keep his darling dumb and pliant under his care. because he believes that hard work means doing everything needed, vil will easily use untraceable poisons to get rid of those he thinks are trying to tarnish his darling. he doesn’t care if the love he’s being showered with comes from a love potion, as long as he feels like he’s being entirely appreciated for who he is (and not just who the world sees him as). he’d trust rook enough to stay around and watch over his darling, but usually he’ll just keep them in his room, knowing full well the potions make them too docile to hurt themselves or make a big mess

rook hunt loves all things beautiful and thinks of his darling as a muse. he’s the very image of the stalker who watches his darling through their day, stealing trinkets and making a small “shrine”, taking creepshots, and sending anonymous letters with enough detail to make his darling scared. he builds up the “fear” (in his mind, he’s just elongating the hunt, making it a game) until he finally catches them and takes his prize home. rook has no problem letting vil know he’s keeping someone locked in: honestly, this isn’t too surprising, and as long as he doesn’t cause trouble, vil might be willing to supply love potions and such to keept he ruckus down. still, rook much prefers to “tame” his darling the natural way- with fear, punishment, and reward. he’ll often make them think they have a chance to escape only to catch them later, crushing their spirits

epel felmier wants to be told he’s strong, he’s manly, he’s his darling’s one and only. he’s grown up seeing the traditional quiet marriages of the people back in his village, and he fully believes he’ll play the role of the supporting, strong, capable man to his darling, meanwhile they’ll be his domestic and pliant spouse (regardless of his darling’s gender). he may use his innocent appearance to fool them into his trap, and then use any means possible to keep them, from mild poisons in food he brings to spells that make their body lock up. he luckily isn’t one for physical punishments, but that can change if his darling tries to insult him or imply he’s effeminate or weak. 

idia shroud is a creep. he spies on his darling with the campus security cameras, he sends small drones to spy on them sleeping, when he dares venture out to the campus he nervously pockets their belongings and builds a literal shrine to them. he might even use ortho to lure them into his room- and once they seem to trust him just a little, he strikes and keeps them locked inside. idia is so very aware his darling thinks he’s a weirdo and a creep, but he still wants their affection. idia may force his darling into cosplays of his favourite characters, using empty blackmail threats or threatening to somehow hurt or sabotage the people they care about using his borderline horrifying technological creations. he even uses ortho as leverage, telling them that if they keep acting that way and crying they’re going to worry the small child who sees them as another sibling figure

malleus draconia has never felt this way before and all he knows is he feels a need to keep and protect. his dragon’s instincts are to hoard his treasure, and his darling is the most precious thing to him. malleus keeps his darling captive as part of that hoarding instinct, although he does crave genuine love and becomes frustrated and angry when he doesn’t receive it. if he’s angered enough, malleus might have outbursts where his darling is seriously hurt- although he’ll be very guilty later. he’s very, very jealous of anyone who gets close to his darling, and he really might turn them into a pile of ashes if they irk him wrong. he has his guards and lilia making sure his darling doesn’t run away, although more often than not that’s not even possible with the sleeping curses he puts on his darling while he’s away

lilia vanrouge has been alive for long enough to know he can get away with pretty much anything, and so he really won’t hold back. he’s a sadistic lover, but more than teasing or being mean it’s sometimes him downright enjoying his darling’s pain and misery. he has enough experience to know exactly what to do to make his darling do what he wants without them even realizing they’re playing right into his tricks, and if not, he’s never afraid to come back home a little bit bloody and make his darling guess who he got rid of because they refused to behave. lilia can keep his darling about anywhere; he’s experienced enough with teleportation magic to switch back and forth from NRC to wherever he pleases, but it’s more likely he’ll keep them in his dorm room so he can “play family” with malleus, silver, and his unwilling darling. 

silver is just doing what his heart tells him, unaware his love is an obsession. being raised by fae, he isn’t 100% of how human romance and courtship works, and it doesn’t really help his parental figures are either clueless in love or twisted enough to encourage his obsession. silver doesn’t want to punish his darling or bring them harm, but he’s ruthless on those he thinks are threats or are trying to tear him and his darling apart. malleus and lilia let him keep his darling locked in diasomnia, even offering to help keep them locked in when silver falls victim to his sleep. of course, the one thing silver wants is affection and warmth- the kindness and sweetness with which he treats his darling are so contrasting to how ruthlessly he kidnapped them that it’s almost painful to see his sad face when they refuse to embrace him

sebek zigvolt is mad. he’s mad that someone is causing him to be confused and distracted, that he can’t properly protect malleus because his heart is going wild at the thought of some silly human. he takes this anger out on his darling; they think he hates them, at first. but the stares, the blush, the fact he’s stealing their personal belongings, smelling their sweaters he stole before he goes to sleep tell another story. and yet he’s mad; when he kidnaped them, he locks them up, telling them he’s punishing them for distracting him. over time, he’ll give in, once his thirst for affection and for holding his darling override his initial anger. but that won’t change much- he’ll still be controlling, very violent when angered, despite him drinking up their praise and basically begging for their affection

#yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere tw #death ment #blood ment #drug tw

[honey-dewey]

Our Small Slice of Paradise

Pairing: Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/Reader

Word Count: 1,696

Warnings: None, this is pure fluff. 

Four years and one child later, Frankie is a whole new man. He’s a wonderful father, a diligent working man, a kind soul, and a beautiful husband. He’s had his fight and his struggle, and now he has earned his small slice of paradise. 

“Frankie!” You called through the house, directing your yells towards the garage door. “Frankie! It’s dinner time!” 

“Huh?” Frankie poked his head in from the garage, genuinely looking shocked. His daughter was across his chest, dead asleep. “What’s up?” 

You smiled. “It’s dinner. Tell the boys to come inside.” 

Frankie turned red. “How do you know they’re out here?” 

“Because I could hear Benny through the walls.” 

All four boys and Nessa came in, Nessa incredibly upset that she couldn’t sit in Frankie’s lap throughout dinner. 

“Baby,” you grabbed her hands as she flailed in her high chair. “Baby! You can sit on daddy’s lap after dinner. But he has to eat too.” 

Nessa pouted, crossing her arms. “Want daddy!” 

Santiago snorted. “Wonder where she gets that attitude from.” 

“Watch your mouth Pope, or you won’t be invited back.” 

At your threat, Santiago wisely shut his mouth. 

Eventually, Nessa calmed enough for you to serve dinner, earning you praise from everyone at the table. 

“Delicious as always,” Benny said happily, taking a rather large bite. “Damn Fish, you really got a good one.” 

Frankie leaned over and kissed your cheek, garnering childish groans from the table. “Yeah, I did.” 

Once dinner was over, Nessa loudly insisted upon sitting with Frankie, so you all headed out back, where William set up the fire pit and went to grab a couple beers. 

“So,” Santiago said, gesturing to you and Frankie with his beer bottle. “When is the family expanding again? We have bets, you know!” 

Frankie laughed, gazing at you with loving eyes. “I dunno babe, should we have another baby?” 

“With these boys?” You said, raising your eyebrows and looking at the three boys sitting across from you. “I’ve got my hands full enough. I swear, your friends are like teenagers.” 

“Oh no.” Santiago shook his head. “You know nothing about our lovely Fransisco when he was a teenager.” 

“Oh?” You leaned closer to Santiago. “Explain.” 

Immediately, Santiago launched into a long and hilarious story about how Frankie earned his beloved nickname. Best you could tell between the laughter and the yelling, Frankie had gone on a road trip with Santiago before they’d joined the military, and they’d stopped in Louisiana. They’d gone swimming in a river, and poor Frankie had been bit not once but twice by a catfish.

“Well excuse you, those fuckers hurt!” Frankie argued once Santiago had finished. 

You smiled. “Pope, where did the fish bite him?” 

Santiago grinned a rather telling grin. “The first one got his foot.” 

Benny, who was doubled over with laughter, sat up with wide eyes. “No,” he said dramatically. “You did not get bit in the dick by a catfish.” 

“Have you never heard this story?” William asked, also breathless from laughter. “Pope told it at least twice on our road trip.” 

“I was asleep for most of that.” 

You leaned back, smiling at the boys. It was hard to imagine them as anything other than best friends. 

“I’m gonna go put Nessa to bed,” Frankie said softly to you once his watch had hit 9. “Is the spare room set up?” 

“Yeah,” you said, setting down your bottle or ginger beer and holding out your arms. “You stay with the boys. I’ll take Nessa.” 

Frankie smiled, kissing you and passing Nessa into your arms. Benny and Santiago wolf whistled, but you ignored them in favor of carrying your daughter to bed. 

Once she was situated and had been properly kissed good-night, you trailed back out to the yard, grabbing s’mores materials on your way. 

“What in the fuck?” You said, standing in the doorway out to the backyard and just watching. Benny and William were wrestling while Frankie and Santiago were making bets, cheering the other two boys on. 

Immediately, Benny sat up, smiling childishly at you. “Hey! Welcome back!” 

You raised an eyebrow. “Get off the ground Benny. And William, I expected better from you!” 

Both boys chorused out apologies, and you nodded. “Thank you. Now, who wants s’mores?” 

Immediately, all four boys leapt upon you, eagerly taking the s’mores materials from you. Frankie dug out the s’mores sticks the pair of you had and you had to stop a joust between Santiago and Benny. 

“Damn!” Santiago said, waving a flaming marshmallow around. “Fucking burnt it.” 

“Oh! Dibs!” William said, reaching out. “I like mine burnt.” 

“You disgust me.” Frankie smooshed his own lightly toasted marshmallow between two graham crackers and a piece of chocolate. 

Benny shrugged. “I like mine more toasted than that,” he said, taking chocolate from you. “Pope doesn’t even fucking toast his!” 

“Oh it is on!” 

You sighed, not even bothering to do anything as the boys began to wrestle. Again. Frankie got pulled into the mess when Santiago shoved a warm marshmallow into his back. William, who genuinely tried to stay out of it, was literally pulled into it when Frankie grabbed him and used him as a human shield. 

Leaning back into your chair, you munched on your s’more, watching the boys fight. It was good to see them happy, especially with how much they’d been through. They deserved to be at ease, not worried about some huge looming threat. 

“You’re out of ammo,” you eventually pointed out once the fighting had reached fifteen minutes, nudging the empty marshmallow bag. “And you’re messes.” 

Santiago untangled himself, sitting up and grunting as he rolled Frankie off his legs. “I’m sticky.” 

“You’re all sticky.” You stood, heading towards the hose. “C’mon, let’s get you all cleaned off.” 

It took some finagling, but with the right pressure setting and a good amount of scrubbing with the rough side of a kitchen sponge and some heavy duty dish soap, all four boys were mostly clean. You carried the pile of ruined clothes to the laundry room, hoping you could wash them tomorrow. In the mean time, something else had to be done. 

“Who’s first?” You asked, heading back outside with a small bucket of hair care supplies.

Everyone pointed to Benny except for Benny. He pointed to William, groaning when he realized he had to go first. “Why me?” 

“You’re youngest,” Santiago said, putting another log in the fire pit. 

Benny grumbled, but sat in the chair you stood behind, waiting for the pull of the comb as you attempted to remove the smeared in bits of marshmallow and chocolate. 

You were much gentler than he expected, using some old tricks and a warm washcloth to get the smaller chunks. The bigger ones needed more convincing, and you did have to cut a particularly stubborn chunk out, but it was a mostly smooth operation. 

After Benny, it was William, who had less in his hair that needed to be slowly massaged out. 

The brothers nodded to you once William was done, trailing into the house and to the guest room. 

Santiago needed more time than Benny, softly chatting to Frankie as you worked on his hair, eventually seeming him clean once his shoulders were damp from the warm washcloth and small marshmallow coated snippets of his hair littered the ground. 

“Well,” he said, standing and stretching. “I’ll leave you two crazy kids out here alone. Do not fuck each other, please. The walls are thin and I do not need to hear my best friend and his wife going at it in the backyard.” 

You gave him a good night, and Frankie gave him a middle finger as Santiago headed inside to pass out on the couch, as he usually did when he spent the night. 

“Come here mister,” you said, gesturing Frankie closer. “You’re a hot fucking mess.” 

Frankie smiled as he sat down, relaxing under your careful hands. “Mhm. You love me anyway.” 

“Not like this,” you said, tugging at one of the marshmallow chunks caked into his hair. “I dunno how much I can save Frankie.” 

“That’s fine,” Frankie promised. “I’m overdue anyway.” 

You smiled, spinning the kitchen scissors on your index finger. “Yeah, you kinda are.” 

By the time Frankie was free of the marshmallow and the chocolate, it was nearing 11, and Frankie was having a hard time keeping his eyes open. 

“Done,” you said softly, ruffling through his hair and dusting off his shoulders. “C’mon, let’s get to bed.” 

Frankie followed after you sleepily, watching through half lidded eyes as you put the kitchen scissors back in their drawer, tossed the dirty washcloth in the laundry, and pushed open your bedroom door. 

“I love you,” Frankie said abruptly, shocking you out of your rhythmic actions. You’d been in the process of getting dressed for bed, your day shirt on the floor and your sleep pants halfway pulled up. 

“What?” 

“I love you,” Frankie repeated, and there was so much sincerity in his voice that you almost cried. 

“Frankie.” You walked over to him, still shirtless. “Babe, you’re exhausted.” 

Frankie nodded, letting you take his shirt off. “Yeah, but I still love you,” he murmured, wrapping his arms loosely around your waist and holding you close to him. 

You smiled, trailing your arms over his neck, threading your hands through his newly trimmed hair as he bowed his head to your shoulder. “I love you too Francisco.”

The pair of you stayed like that, holding each other in the moonlight, half naked, until Frankie untangled himself from your arms and tugged you gently to the bed. You fell beside him, rolled into your side so you were facing him. 

“Hello handsome,” you said with a grin, kissing Frankie’s nose. “Wanna get married?” 

Frankie smiled, poking your cheeks one at a time and causing you to giggle. “I dunno, I got this wife at home, and I think she’s a real keeper.” 

You curled closer to Frankie’s chest, reveling in the warmth he provided. “Well damn. Why don’t you kiss her for me?” Your voice grew softer with each word as the night’s antics caught up to you. 

Frankie kissed the top of your head, feeling your breaths even out as you fell asleep. “I love you,” he whispered one more time, feeling his own eyes close as he too slipped away into the peace of sleep beside you.

#triple frontier #frankie morales #francisco 'catfish' morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #my writing #pedro pascal

[cuubism]

good evening friends i now present to you: malec alliance rune arranged marriage AU - chapter 1!

@magnusbae come witness your child

****

mind & heart, body & soul

3k words, ch. 1/however long my motivation lasts 

AO3

*

There’s no reception. No afterparty. Even Shadowhunter weddings, solemn affairs at best, usually have some kind of celebration afterwards.

But this—

It seems like everyone wants to distance themselves from this.

It’s a travesty. Alec knows that everyone thinks so. He saw the disgust in the eyes of the few Clave officials present as witnesses, heard the whispered remarks—it’s so sad to see such a promising young Shadowhunter’s future tarnished like this, don’t you think?

And the thing is—Alec isn’t entirely sure he disagrees.

He understands the necessity of it. Knows the Downworld had demanded proof of the Clave’s intention to uphold the new Accords. He doesn’t even really begrudge them it, after all he’s learned recently about the true depth of the entanglement between the Clave and the Circle. He understands why it had to be him—the eldest son of a prominent Shadowhunter family, a family of former Circle members at that, a literal symbol of the Clave’s future, offered—sacrificed, the other Shadowhunters would probably say—to maintain the peace.

But no one’s hearts seem to be in it. Certainly not his parents’—they hadn’t even attended the ceremony, despite being key players in arranging the whole thing. Certainly not his future— his husband’s, his husband who’d barely looked at him as they’d exchanged their vows.

Nothing about this feels real, and what’s the point of both of them both ruining their lives for a hollow gesture?

Because the thing is, the ceremony is over. The halls of the Institute are quiet, somber, in mourning maybe. Alec feels alternately completely numb and like his heart is about to beat out of his chest.

And his husband is nowhere to be found.

Alec has absolutely no idea what to expect from Magnus. He doesn’t know what kind of person Magnus is at all, hadn’t even met him before today, though he’s heard the name, the reputation. He knows Magnus… gets around, as they say. He knows the Clave sees Magnus as a threat for his raw power, his role in quashing the Uprising, the respect and loyalty he commands from the Downworld. Maybe they think they’ve neutralized that threat now. He knows his parents, despite having arranged this, think Magnus is a disgusting demon-creature who will corrupt their son. Alec doesn’t really want to think about what it says about them that they’d believe that and still make him go through with it.

He’s trying not to have expectations, but it’s kind of hard not to have fears. Alec doesn’t understand why someone like Magnus would tie themselves to him. Supposedly, he had volunteered, and Alec has no fucking clue what that means, what possible ulterior motives Magnus might have. Revenge against the Lightwoods, against the Circle? He has no idea.

Truthfully, Alec still doesn’t know what he thinks of Magnus. Mostly, he just knows that he really, really needs to talk to him, except Magnus has fucking disappeared.

Alec wanders the empty halls, searching for him and feeling like an idiot while doing it. Surely Magnus wouldn’t have just left him here, right? Surely. They may be married in name only, but they’re still married.

Thankfully, after a few minutes of searching, Alec turns a corner—

—and there he is.

Alec’s breath catches at the sight of him just as it had when Magnus had walked down the aisle. He’s slumped against the wall, cellphone pressed to his ear, all the strength and ferocity that he’d worn facing Alec at the altar now drained away. But a searing breathlessness rushes through Alec’s chest all the same, he’s just— he is so beautiful.

When the arrangement had first been drawn up, Alec had let out an almost startled breath of relief at learning his future spouse was a man. It was a bitter sort of relief, because it came with the inescapable knowledge that the Clave would have never approved a marriage between two men just because it made Alec happy, but would go for it in a second if they thought they could get something out of it. But regardless, the end result was the same: Alec got to marry a man.

Strange, to get something he’s wanted so desperately out of a marriage everyone thinks is a travesty.

He gets to marry a man. To be married to a man. And God, what a man.

He’s really trying not to let himself think about how stunning Magnus is. He doesn’t have the right to think that. They’re not— it’s just a contract, just politics.

And if how fast Magnus had disappeared at the end of the ceremony is any indication, just getting Magnus to talk to him is going to be difficult enough. There’s no point in getting carried away with thoughts of something he’ll never be able to have.

Magnus is still on the phone, and doesn’t seem to have noticed him yet, so Alec waits, debating whether he should leave him be, or stay so Magnus can’t disappear again.

“—I know, the ceremony was a farce,” Magnus is saying quietly into the phone, “and the Lightwoods didn’t even show up, can you believe the nerve? Tells you what the Clave really thinks of the whole thing.”

Alec swallows. It’s not that he himself hadn’t been thinking it, but it still kind of hurts that his— his husband thinks so little of their marriage, too.

“No, the Accords are solid, I made sure of it,” Magnus continues. He’s holding out his hand in front of him, staring at his wedding ring. It’s almost lost amongst his other jewelry. “In fact, I’ll—”

And he starts to walk away, and Alec just cannot watch Magnus walk away from him again.

“Magnus!”

Magnus actually flinches, but he does stop walking, turning to look at Alec, a cautious smile that Alec can’t help but read as fake sliding onto his face. Alec takes a step back from him, even though he’s already standing all the way on the other side of the hall.

Magnus ends his call. “Alexander.”

Falsely warm or not, Magnus has a lovely voice. It’s low and soft and curls around Alec’s chest. Alec cautiously takes a step back closer to him.

“Yeah… hi. I was wondering where you’d gone off to.”

Magnus gestures with his phone. “Duty never rests, I’m afraid.”

Alec can relate to that. His duties at the Institute are not going to slow down now just because he’s married. If anything, he’ll probably have to go to even more meetings, more political events, as a representative at best, a spectacle or cautionary tale at worst.

“I’m sorry you had to get dragged into this,” he says to Magnus.

Magnus softens a little. “Fear not, I knew what I was getting myself into.”

“Even if the Clave isn’t taking it seriously?”

At that, Magnus cringes. “I hadn’t meant for you to hear that. I apologize.”

“Yeah, well, it’s not like everyone else wasn’t thinking it, too.”

Magnus nods.

They stand in awkward silence for a long moment, still at opposite ends of the hall. Alec doesn’t know what else to say to him, and Magnus doesn’t seem particularly inclined to start conversation with him. Alec doesn’t know what to do here, how to handle this. It’s rare that he finds himself in a situation he doesn’t know how to handle.

Finally, Magnus says. “Don’t feel obliged to keep me company. I’m sure you have work that you’d rather be doing.”

And feeling somewhat stupid, Alec just says, “What?”

“I understand we have certain obligations as—” Magnus stumbles, but forces his way over the words— “as husbands—functions and political negotiations and such things—and we should probably have a long conversation at some point about what— what this is, but I’m not going to ask you to pretend we’re going on our honeymoon or something.”

Alec’s gotten the impression, however brief, that Magnus is not generally a person who stutters or stumbles, which makes the way he’s speaking now all the more startling. His smile is strained, and it occurs to Alec that Magnus may not want to be around him at all, and is just too tactful to say so outright.

However reasonable that feeling may be, it sort of hurts Alec’s heart.

All he can manage to say is, “We still have to do the rune.”

Magnus blinks. “The… rune?”

Surely they must have told him?

“To make the marriage official. It was part of the… agreement.” Alec recites the words of the new Accords, which he unfortunately has burned into his memory now. “‘A union of mind, heart, body, and soul.’”

“Ah… yes.” Uneasy recognition slips into Magnus’s expression. “Somehow I’d thought, when it wasn’t part of the ceremony, that they might have changed their minds.”

“Usually—like, in a Shadowhunter marriage—it would be. But I think, uh. No one wanted to witness it.”

Magnus looks down at the floor. “I see. Well, lead the way, then, husband.”

He probably doesn’t intend the note of bitterness that slips into his voice, but Alec hears it anyway.

“Hey, listen,” he says, taking another cautious step closer to Magnus, “can we talk first?”

Relief and apprehension war on Magnus’s face, and apprehension wins. But he nods. “Here?”

He seems sort of uncomfortable with the idea, and Alec says immediately, “Doesn’t have to be.”

He’s feeling a little sick of the Institute himself.

Magnus’s shoulders relax a fraction. “Then perhaps you’ll agree to come home with me?” There’s the slightest touch of playfulness in his tone now. “So long as you don’t mind being dragged into the lair of a Warlock.”

He holds out a hand, the other already glittering with blue sparks meant to make a portal.

Alec ignores everything he’s ever been taught and takes his hand.

 *

Magnus’s apartment is unlike anything he could have expected. It’s softly lit and cozy and very unlike the Institute and Alec feels a smidgen of weight disappear from his shoulders just being there.

Magnus lets him go and strides over to a drinks cart in the corner of the living room. “Drink, darling?”

Alec doesn’t know if Magnus means to make his stomach flip by calling him that, but it works. “Um, sure.”

“Feel free to take a seat, I’ll be right over.”

Alec sits down on the couch, taking off his jacket and laying it carefully on the seat beside him. They’re both still wearing their suits from the ceremony, and Alec watches the way Magnus’s back and shoulders shift under the maroon velvet of his jacket. Suddenly overheated, he has to untie his bowtie and let it hang around his neck.

Magnus snaps his fingers, and a drink appears in Alec’s hand, and Alec jumps with the suddenness of it, almost spilling it. When he’s gotten it steadied, he looks up to find Magnus watching him with a subtle smirk playing on his lips. He doesn’t say anything, though, just sits in the armchair to Alec’s left, taking a sip of his drink.

Alec takes a sip of his own. He wants to be polite, to not insult Magnus in his own home, but he can’t quite manage not cringing at the taste. When he looks back up, Magnus is still smiling at him, a bit softer this time.

“So,” Alec says, because he’s an idiot, “marriage.”

Magnus’s smile widens, but he hides it in another sip of his drink. “Indeed.”

He’s even lovelier under the soft lights of his apartment than he was in the Institute. Alec forces himself to tear his gaze away from the line of glitter under Magnus’s eyes.

“Can I ask—” he starts once he’s managed to gather himself— “why did you volunteer? It’s just, you sort of don’t seem like you want to be involved in this.”

“I suppose that’s true,” Magnus agrees quietly. “It’s rather simple, really. One of New York’s Downworld leaders had to volunteer, and I happened to be the best candidate at this moment in time. Least entanglements, that sort of thing.”

Alec thinks that’s a really understated way to phrase something pretty monumental.

“Why did you volunteer?” Magnus asks.

“That’s… not exactly the word I’d use,” Alec says, and Magnus looks down at his hands, swallowing hard.

“Oh,” he says, “right. Of course. I’m sorry.”

But—Alec’s not entirely unhappy about it. He’d always expected his marriage to be political. It might as well be with someone who’s interesting. Any fear he might have felt before at the idea of being with Magnus is disappearing now that he’s actually with Magnus. He’s finding it kind of impossible to be afraid of Magnus, actually.

“I mean, I did sort of make sure they picked me, and not Izzy—that’s my sister,” he continues. “But yeah, it was going to be one of us either way. Though I think they always preferred it to be me, except for the whole it-being-two-men thing.” 

Magnus looks back up at him at that, gaze discerning. “May I ask a question now?”

“Sure?”

“You seem—how can I put this—less uncomfortable with the situation than I would have expected from a Shadowhunter.” And Alec thinks he knows what Magnus is going to ask, but he expects him to hedge it a bit, not just come right out and say— “Are you attracted to men?”

Alec tries not to choke on the sip of his drink he’s finally managed to get into his mouth. He forces himself to swallow. “Uh, I am, um—”

“You don’t have to tell me,” Magnus continues, “though it is a… relevant question in a marriage, shall we say.”

Honestly, Alec wants to tell him, even if he doesn’t have a lot of practice saying it. “I am... attracted to men, yes.”

Magnus looks at him for a long moment, then takes another sip of his drink. “Interesting.”

Alec doesn’t know what to make of that, so he just takes another agonizing sip of his own drink and tries to ignore the fluttering in his stomach at the way Magnus was scrutinizing him.

Magnus watches him cringe at the taste of the drink again and lets out a small laugh. “You don’t actually have to drink that if you don’t want to.”

Gratefully, Alec sets it aside and focuses on Magnus instead. His posture has relaxed in his chair. His shoes are off and he has one leg tucked underneath himself. His jacket is draped over the back of his chair now, too, though he looks no less put together for it.

“You seem like you’re feeling better now,” Alec says.

“Pardon?”

“At the Institute—you seemed really tense.”

He sort of expects Magnus to deny it. Instead, Magnus unfolds his legs and leans towards him, hands clasped together in his lap.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I feel that I’ve been unfair to you.”

Alec raises an eyebrow.

Magnus continues, “I heard who I was marrying and I expected—”

“—Someone more like my parents?”

Magnus just inclines his head. “In all honesty, I feared the whole thing might be some kind of elaborate plot to take me out, weaken the Downworld.” He pauses, contemplative. A little wary. “But sitting here with you now, I no longer believe that. I do not believe… that you intend to hurt me.”

Alec almost says that he doesn’t think he’d be capable of hurting Magnus, even if he wanted to, that he thinks Magnus is too powerful to allow for it—and then pauses.

Because while that may be true in a normal circumstance, this isn’t normal. If Magnus were to injure Alec, or kill him, even in self-defense, the Clave would blame him and side with Alec. The new Accords would dissolve. Magnus might even be punished for it.

Alec’s hit with a sudden desperate understanding of just what a dangerous position Magnus has put himself in, and how much more dangerous it could have turned out.

Their situation feels very real then.

“Magnus, listen,” Alec says, wracked with sudden urgency, leaning forward to take Magnus’s hands between his own even though he hasn’t actually contemplated yet whether he’s allowed to do that, “I don’t know what this… relationship is, or what it will be. But I promise, I will never put you in the position where you have to choose between protecting yourself and protecting the Accords. I will never hurt you. Okay? Do you believe me?”

Magnus hesitates for a long moment, just staring into Alec’s eyes, until eventually, the wariness in his gaze cedes into belief. “I do.”

Alec leans back and awkwardly releases his hands. “Okay. Good.”

Magnus keeps staring at him. “You are a strange Shadowhunter, Alexander,” he finally says, “but I can’t say I’m unhappy about it.”

Alec doesn’t know if he’s strange. All he knows is the idea of Magnus being afraid of him is completely intolerable and he has to remedy it however he can.

“Whatever you say,” he agrees, and Magnus smiles again, and it’s such a lovely expression on his face. And Alec feels the first spark of hope in his chest, actual hope that they can get through this amicably, without coming to hate each other or their own lives.

And then he ruins it. Not because he wants to push, but because this is actually important, if they don’t do things properly their marriage won’t be considered legitimate by the Clave and then this will all be for nothing. “So…” he says. “The rune—”

Magnus’s face shutters completely and he turns away so Alec can only see him in profile. “Just—” he says, waving a hand, floundering— “give me a moment—”

And he gets up and disappears into his apartment so quickly it’s almost like he was never there at all. Alec swallows a hot rush of disappointment at his absence, forcing himself to stay put and give him space. He knows Magnus will most likely come around—he had agreed to this marriage, after all—but it’s hard not to take this as rejection, especially when it had seemed like they were finally making progress on finding some common ground.

Can you even be rejected when you’re already married?

Alec doesn’t know, but somehow he feels like he’s going to find out.

#malec #malec fic #my writing #alliance rune arranged marriage au #absolutely wild turnaround on this one

[fuckspn]

fuckspn’s mini deancas fic rec

i said a few days ago that i would write a mini fic rec list, and here it is! i tried to limit it to fics i hadn’t seen on other rec lists before, but there are a few that i couldn’t resist adding even though everyone and their mother recommends them. there’s a whole section for “dean pulls cas out of the empty” fix-it fics because i know what the fuck i’m about. also literally all of these are deancas because i don’t read any other type of supernatural fic, and they all have happy endings because i’m not reading supernatural fanfiction to make myself sad.

a quick disclaimer before we start: i generally don’t like explicit sex scenes in fic unless i feel like they’re really narratively earned, realistic, in-character, and necessary to the emotional arc of the story. so while there are explicit fics in here, all but the last two on the list are sufficiently character- and plot-driven that you can skip the sex scenes entirely if you want.

Finale Fix-Its:

(they’ll never break) the shape we take by ~ME~ (Teen, 9k) Yes, this is my own fic, but listen, I wouldn’t have written it if it didn’t hit what I wanted to see in a fix-it! I’m not gonna make any promises as to whether or not you’ll like it, but I do, and that’s what matters here. Read it if you want to see basically every wrong prediction about the finale rolled up into one fic, if you wish they’d kept the Empty as a morally neutral outsider instead of a villain, or if you just like somewhat uncanny, slippery dream logic and gratuitous callbacks. Also even though idk if I’ll ever finish or publish it, I’m working on a fluffy domestic follow-up featuring, among other things, fixes for both Jack and Billie’s endings. I’m just saying that so if you read this fic you know that even though it’s not mentioned, Jack does come back and get to be a normal toddler with his two dads.

my heart a compass by lagaudiere (Teen, 10k) Again, I REALLY hope you like uncanny, slippery dream logic because that’s in this fic too! Cas POV is such a rare and difficult thing and I think lagaudiere nails it. Literally my only complaint about this fic is that at one point Cas imagines Jack having missing baby teeth at age 4 and my immediate reaction was to worry about why Jack would be missing teeth that young. This is because my brain is broken. Your brain is presumably not broken in the same way mine is, so you should enjoy this fic fine.

The World At Large by cenotaphy (General, 4.9k) This fic is so sexy because cenotaphy was like “hey what if there were actual stakes for Dean in the Empty besides the threat of losing the love of his life? Like what if he had a time limit? What if he got fucking stabbed?” and then somehow turned it into the softest little thing about how much all the characters love each other. Truly incredible artistic decisions made here. Despite being relatively short and deancas-centric, Sam and Jack get a lot of screentime here too and they’re absolutely delightful. Tbh you should probably read all of cenotaphy’s season 15 fix-its but if you’re only gonna read one, make it this. (Or Bring Home, but I’ve seen that one on so many rec lists that I think statistically everyone on Earth has read it.)

Other:

You And Your Husband by mikaylamazing (General, 17.9k) 5+1, Dean and Cas getting mistaken for a couple, 80% fluff then 10% angst that genuinely hit me like a gut punch then 10% fluff again. Dean and Cas are at PEAK old married couple in this fic. Yeah they bitch at each other constantly, but they also will tool around the country in their car like a couple of retirees and Dean will indulge Cas’ random flights of fancy even when they’re for something he hates, like the original Starbucks at Pike Place Market. (I’m with Dean on this one.)

Command Me To Be Well by prosopopeya (Explicit, 28k) Not gonna lie, this one hits the “angst with a happy ending” trope hard. The author is NOT fucking around with the warning for internalized homophobia, and I damn near cried at how Dean and Cas clearly loved each other and wanted to be together but just couldn’t because Dean’s psychological hangups were hurting them both. But not only does the happy ending come, the fic luxuriates in it—this is no band-aid slapped over the end, they genuinely fix their shit. Also, this fic has my favorite “Dean coming out to Sam” scene I’ve ever read.

Bring Up the Deep by deathbanjo (Explicit, 22.6k) Okay. Listen. Yes, this is the fic I was talking about the other day, with the tags that make it sound way kinkier than it actually is. And yes, technically this fic does contain dom/sub undertones and sex pollen. But look at me—hey, look at me. This fic owns. It’s a horror case fic, so it’s mainly plot (and three brief sex scenes, but two of those are part of the plot). The monster is genuinely creepy and creative, the supporting characters are enjoyable to read about, the setting is well-drawn, and the ending is something I’m still digesting but in a very enjoyable way. As far as the kinky tags go, the fic basically plays out like Dean and Cas (who are in an established, albeit new, relationship) are slightly randier than normal due to case weirdness: the dom/sub undertones are so light that I barely noticed them, the “sex pollen” is a deliberately unnerving plot device, and both Dean and Cas have nuanced emotional reactions to the whole situation that they are allowed to process and talk through with each other. I’ve never read A Complete Kingdom and never will, but if you’ve ever wanted a Deancas horror casefic set in coastal Maine that won’t leave you a shattered husk of a human being, Bring Up the Deep is for you!

Though The Course May Change by imogenbynight (Explicit, 51.5k) I’ve seen this one on a number of rec lists, but I couldn’t not include it because it’s just so fun. Another case fic involving Dean and Cas staying in a cabin in a rainy, semi-isolated location surrounded by colorful OCs, but this time the only horror is the prospect of fake-dating the guy you’re secretly actually in love with. It’s a delightful read.

More Than Ever by Sass_Master (Explicit, 20.2k) Canon-divergent fic from 2015 about Cas choosing to become human and Dean being a real bitch about it. It’s very fun, but I’m mainly recommending it because it’s part 1 of a series and therefore provides the necessary backstory/buildup for the next fic on this list.

You’re There by Sass_Master (Explicit, 11.5k) This is part 3 of the same series (part 2 is not required reading, it’s just a short explicit fic set in between these two fics), and while most of it is about sex, it’s also a fucking A+, 10/10, award-worthy character study of Dean and his internal relationship to his sexuality. Literally I was reading it going, “That’s it! That’s the Dean Winchester who lives in my head!”

till the juice runs by deathbanjo (Explicit, 8.4k) The epic saga of Dean’s terrible knockoff-Grindr hookups while Cas waits at home for him like if you could see that I’m the one who understands you been here all along so why can’t you see you belong w— Listen, I’ll be honest here, this fic is completely not my usual speed (lots of sex, relatively light—but not nonexistent!—romance, zero Big Emotions), so it doesn’t have much in common with any other fics on this list besides a rotating cast of fun OCs. It is, however, the single funniest fucking deancas fic I’ve ever read in my life. Fun minigame: count how many times one of Dean’s hookups is described as having messy dark hair and/or blue eyes.

#fic rec #idk how 'mini' this is at this point it's 10 fics #but that's only a tiny fraction of the amount of deancas fic i've read in the last 100 days so

[2manyfandoms2count]

Alix's rom-com night

The June event of the @mlwritersguild was to create bonus content for one of our fics - I decided to seize the opportunity to finally sit down and write one of the bonus scenes of You can count on me (I will be there for you), and to do draw a bit of fanart to go with it (4 panels, including a Marichat piece)! Let me tell you that the Burrow is a pain to draw, but I'm actually quite proud of the result :)

About YCCOM: It's an aged-up, one-sided reveal with "fake" wedding fic, based on Sallteas' art. The fic is 9 chapters and 20k words long. It was written before season 4, so it's no longer canon compliant in terms of who knows who's identities at the beginning.

Synopsis: Ladybug's identity is compromised, and somebody is after her. After a lot of pondering, she and Chat Noir come to the conclusion that her best bet is for her to marry Adrien Agreste. It breaks her heart that she is not marrying Chat Noir, but she knows that she's buying them time to figure out who is behind the anonymous letters she's been receiving, and hopefully to find Hawkmoth. Whatever the situation might be, her wedding day should provide a moment of respite. And maybe it would have, had Chat Noir refrained from coming to visit her just before the ceremony...

About Alix's rom-com night: it's a one shot that's chronologically set before the main fic, but I recommend reading it after reading the latter since it contains spoilers for it. It follows Alix (obviously), and includes Ladybug revealing her identity to Chat Noir and the set up of their "fake wedding" plan.

Hope you enjoy!

---

Alix opened her door and dropped her keys in the bowl as she kicked off her shoes with a satisfied sigh. Home, sweet home.

Her studio apartment wasn’t very big, but then again, she didn’t need a huge surface when she had a whole extension waiting for her just a transformation phrase away. She’d mentally thanked Marinette more than once for choosing her to wield the Rabbit Miraculous, rather than somebody else, just for the savings she made in rent.

She whistled happily as she made her way to her kitchen area, grabbing a bag of popcorn out of a cupboard and shoving it in her microwave.

She deserved the treat. She’d been running around all week, trying to slide letters to her targets without being spotted, spending hours on end to find the perfect stationary, and then staying up at night to get the wording exactly right, a delicate mix of subtlety and threat to elicit some sort of response from them. It had taken a lot of trial and error, especially for Ladybug. Her friend had always been surprisingly oblivious on many fronts, and it seemed that her honeymoon phase with Chat Noir reinforced her optimistic ability to brush ominous details aside. It had taken three letters for her to start freaking out and to promise Tikki she would talk to her partner about them, whereas Hawkmoth had started the analysis phase upon the first one he’d received.

Alix had only been mildly surprised by the identity of their nemesis when she’d decided it was high time she knew who they were facing; it was all too fitting that the man who leached off Paris’ most intense negative emotions should be the most embittered person she knew, and the one who, in retrospect, had been the cause of many an Akuma (she still shuddered at the what-could-have-been of Chat Noir’s akumatisation).

The microwave dinged, bringing her thoughts back to her timeline. She took the bowl out and called for her Kwami.

“Fluff, clockwise! Burrow!”

A white portal appeared in the middle of her living space and she walked through it, emerging in the ovoid room covered in screens. She made her way to the furthest point, hung her umbrella up on the coathanger she kept in there, and grabbed a folding chair. It was a director’s seat which supposedly had belonged to a rising name in the cinema world before their career had been shot down for obscure reasons, but she didn’t really care about its story; she’d bought it for a very low price at a yard sale, and that was all that mattered to her.

“Right, where are you…” She muttered, scrutinising her surroundings, until she found the screen she was looking for.

She unfolded the chair, zoomed in on the empty (for now) rooftop, propped down in her seat and threw a fistful of popcorn into her mouth, waiting for the show to start.

Unsurprisingly, Ladybug was the first to arrive on the scene. She paced around, mumbling to herself as she wrung her hands together. Alix felt a pang of guilt as she watched her rehearse how she would break the news to her partner, but reassured herself that the ordeal would soon be over.

Finally, Chat Noir landed beside Ladybug, and she flung herself at him, holding him so tight he had to untangle himself from her arms to breathe.

“Well, well, well, my Lady, I know I couldn’t make it to patrol last night, but I didn’t think you’d miss me this much,” he chuckled, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

Alix rolled her eyes at just how lovestruck he looked as he did so. How could her friends be so sappy, and yet still be at square one in terms of knowing who the other was?

Some might have said that it was romantic, that they loved each other regardless of who they were; but those people did not have to deal with the constant end of the world threat.

“What was so important that you couldn’t just text me?”

Ladybug took a deep breath. Her fingers slid along his arms as she relaxed her embrace, taking his hands in hers at the end of the line. “Somebody knows my identity,” she said quietly, looking down. “And I don’t know who they are.”

“What?!” Chat’s voice detonated in the previously peaceful quiet of the evening, making a couple of pigeons take off in a loud flutter of wings.

“I’m so sorry, I must have been careless when I got home one night, they must have seen me, I bet it was last week when I was tired and I-”

“My Lady, no offence, but I don’t care about the when and why, just... are you okay?” He tilted her chin up, gently turning her head to each side, checking for any signs of injury.

She placed her hand on his, making him stop, and gave him a soft, sad smile. “Yes, Chaton. Just a little rattled; you know you were the first person I wanted to reveal my identity to. Not including Bunnyx, although technically I never told her who I am.”

“And technically, I’m still the only person who knows who you are,” Bunnyx smugly commented between two handfuls of popcorn. “Now come on, I want to see how you react when you reveal your identities to each other.”

“How do you know somebody knows, though? And do you have any idea what their intentions are?”

Ladybug’s expression darkened. “I received some letters. They’re not signed, but they’ve got enough butterflies on them to make me think that even if they’re not from the biggest pest in Paris, then they’re probably from somebody who’s up to no good.”

Chat Noir swore under his breath, then regained his countenance. “So, what do we do now? Do you think we can hunt down the bugger?”

“We definitely will, but…” Ladybug bit her lip, and Alix leaned forward in her seat. This had to be it. “Chaton, I think the time has come for me to tell you who I am.”

“YES! Finally!” Alix cheered, almost spilling her popcorn bowl.

“Are you sure, my Lady?” Alix didn’t have to be on site to tell that Chat Noir’s heart was beating faster than usual; the corners of his mouth twitched as he repressed a smile, as though his excitement could make her change her mind.

“Yes.” She nodded. “I really want you to know.” In case something happens to me, Alix was pretty sure her friend had left unsaid.

“Okay, okay.” Chat Noir took a deep breath, buzzing with anticipation, so much so that he apparently missed the whole subtext of her previous words. “Do you want to do this now? And how do you want to do it? Do you want me to close my eyes? Are you going to write it on a piece of paper for me to read? Are you going to detransform? Should-”

“I was thinking the latter, and yes, now,” Ladybug said timidly. “Up to you if you want to look or not.”

“For some reason, I feel like I shouldn’t.” He took her hands in his and kissed her knuckles without breaking their eye contact, then took another deep breath and closed his eyes, a blissful smile on his lips. “Ready when you are, my Lady.”

“Ok, here goes.” She let out a shaky breath and called off her transformation. The soft pink glow engulfed her and receded, her suit melting away to reveal her true appearance.

“Wow, Marinette, you actually broke out your favourite dress for this? Glad to see all of this isn’t affecting your ability to think straight.” Alix smirked. If her friend had gone home after a long, stressful work day, and found it in her to change and doll herself up to make a good impression on Chat Noir, things couldn’t be that bad. She had to agree that her dress, simple, white, with little red hearts embroidered on it, was perfect for the occasion, though.

“You can open your eyes now, Chaton.” Marinette gave his hands a squeeze.

Chat Noir obliged, blinking slowly as he took in her appearance, her identity, her. Marinette squirmed under his gaze, his expression not giving away any of his thoughts.

“H-Hi,” she stammered when she couldn’t take it anymore. “I, erm, I guess I should introduce myself? We’ve run into each other before, when we were younger, and even if you actually had lunch with my family that one time, I guess it’s been a while… My name is-”

“Marinette. Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” Chat’s smile finally broke free, spread from ear to ear, almost literally illuminating his face. Alix wondered if anything could ever wipe it off. Love and admiration twinkled in his eyes as he picked her up and started spinning her. Marinette wrapped her arms around his neck, giggling giddily, before Chat Noir closed the gap between their lips.

Bunnyx modestly looked away, allowing them to have their moment. Her eyes landed on a rerun of Plagg putting an end to the dinosaurs’ reign.

“I should have known that it was you, Princess.” Chat panted slightly as he carefully set Marinette back on the roof. “Everything makes so much more sense now, I-”

“Before you finish that thought, I can’t know your identity.” She placed her index finger on his lips. “Yet, of course.”

“What?” Chat froze, and so did Bunnyx, her hand pausing midway between the popcorn bowl and her mouth. “But why?”

“I don’t know what might happen to me, but I don’t want to put you in any danger.” Marinette cupped his cheek. “And I don’t want to lose my memories of you. Of us.”

“Oh for Kwami’s sake.” Alix rolled her eyes. “Boo!” She threw a fistful of popcorn at the screen as her friend continued to list all the reasons Chat couldn’t reveal his identity.

“My Lady, Marinette, if you’re worried about your safety, maybe we should do something about it. I could move in with you, or in a flat nearby, maybe, stay transformed or wear a mask at all times so you don’t know who I am, we can figure it out… Of course I know you can protect yourself, but I could stand guard while you sleep, or...” Chat raked his hand through his hair as he thought.

“You know I love you, Chaton, and that’s why I can’t let you do that! You can’t live like that, I can’t ask that of you. Not to mention how difficult it would be for me, do you really think I could resist having you so close, and not trying to get a glimpse of who you are?” She joked, trying to diffuse the sudden tension.

“Then we need to get you a bodyguard,” he insisted.

“I thought about it, but… Well, I can’t really afford it, and how could I justify suddenly needing personal security? I’m just a designer, and nothing I’ve ever done has been avant-garde enough that I should be worried about my safety.” She shook her head.

“Damn, I knew I should have targeted Chat Noir,” Alix swore under her breath. “He would’ve had to reveal his identity, and she definitely wouldn’t have been a pushover on her kitty’s protection matter. Come on Adrien, do something.”

She could tell that he was up to something just by looking at him. He’d been silent for a little too long for it to be natural. Cogs turned in his head, making him squint. He let go of her completely and paced around the roof, almost pulling his hair out as he did so. Alix sensed that whatever was on his mind was going to be big. She leaned forwards in anticipation.

Finally, Chat Noir came to a halt in front of Marinette, the fever in his eyes and his dishevelled hair making him look slightly unhinged.

“Buguinette, I think I’ve got a solution,” he whispered.

“You do?” Marinette’s voice was full of hope, although she looked slightly concerned about him.

“You’re probably not going to like it,” he warned her, lifting a finger.

“Beggars can’t be choosers.” She shrugged, taking a step forward.

“Right.” He gave her one last look, an opportunity to stop him before the words tumbled out. She nodded encouragingly. “Okay, here’s the thing. I have it on very good authority that Adrien Agreste is being pressured into getting married by his father.”

“I see Gabriel’s just as delightful as always,” Marinette shook her head.

“Unlike good cheese, he definitely doesn’t get better with time.” Chat smiled bitterly, eyes losing focus a little.

“What’s it got to do with us, though?” Marinette prompted, placing a hand on his arm.

“Oh, Agreste, you absolute genius, I think I know where this is going.” Alix took another handful of popcorn.

“Oh, yes, right.” He cleared his throat. “See, Adrien’s not dating anyone at the moment…” Right, Alix snorted. “And he’s not really planning on starting a relationship with his father breathing down his neck, but, well, he happens to owe me a favour, and I’m sure that he’d be more than happy to put his security detail to good use…”

“So you’re suggesting that I marry Adrien.” Marinette deadpanned.

“Well, er, I actually thought you could just date, but thinking about it… It would be less strange for you to request a bodyguard if your relationship was more serious…” He trailed off.

Alix was impressed by how well he concealed his emotions. His poker face was truly exceptional.

“And you think Adrien would be ready to marry me because of a favour he owes you?” Marinette crossed her arms over her chest, pursing her lips and squinting at him as she tried to pick at his lie.

Alix winced for Chat. Maybe he should have waited a bit before blurting out the (as it turned out) probably only sane option in that situation so he could work out all of the details for himself. Marinette was very good at trying to shake plans to see how solid their foundations were.

“Please. Adrien had a crush on you when you were younger, if anything I could probably smuggle it as another favour, given how perfect the fake scenario would be. Although I guess that since you also liked him… It might just cancel out.” He tapped his lip pensively.

“Adrien had a crush on me?” Marinette frowned. “Oh, you must mean Ladybug. I think Nino mentioned it once.”

“Well, yes, but he also had one on you, Marinette.” Chat stepped forward, mischief twinkling in his eyes as he poked her on the nose.

“Really, now,” she muttered to herself.

“The main reason he didn’t act on it was that he thought you loved somebody else.” Chat smiled ironically.

“Wow, what a pair of idiots.” Marinette chuckled.

“You don’t know the half of it.” He kissed her forehead.

“But you know what?” Marinette didn’t pick up on her partner’s comment. “I’m actually glad we didn’t get together. It probably would have delayed us getting together.” She pressed a peck to his lips. “If we’d gotten together at all in that timeline.” She smirked.

Alix snorted. Out of all the timelines she’d watched unfold in an attempt to keep things in check, there wasn’t a single one where Marinette and Adrien, Ladybug and Chat Noir, didn’t end up together, and not just because of her interventions to help them, and the rest of the planet, stay alive.

Marinette’s face fell at Chat Noir’s lack of response. Alix knew her friend didn’t particularly believe in soulmates, but she understood that she would have liked a sappy Chat Noir special comment on how he’d told her he’d grow onto her anyway, and that she would have soon discovered that the Agreste boy had nothing on him. She assumed that he was too busy restraining himself from saying the wrong thing.

“Actually… What about us, then?” Marinette cleared her throat and looked up at him, eyes glistening slightly in the half light.

“My Lady… If you really think that you being a divorcée will spur me away…” Chat Noir looked down at their entwined hands, locks of blond hair falling in front of his eyes, concealing his giddy smile from her. You sneaky cat, Alix thought.

Marinette followed his gaze, letting out a long sigh as she watched their hands sway lightly. Alix knew her brain was probably trying to find all the flaws in the plan. She crossed her fingers, hoping that it would be enough for her friend to accept. It was perfect, whether they got their act together and figured everything out before the event, or not.

“Fine,” Marinette finally said with resolve, making Alix mentally thank whoever was out there. “I’ll do it on two conditions.”

“Anything, my love.” Chat let out a sigh of relief.

“Firstly, we’re honest with Adrien from the get go. No lying about anything.” Chat nodded along. “Secondly, we get cracking on finding Hawkmoth, and after we do and the divorce is settled, if we even get that far with Adrien because obviously if everything is settled before the wedding we won’t be going through the whole plan…” Chat smiled fondly as she took a deep breath. “After all that, we are getting married.” She gestured between the both of them.

“My Lady, are you proposing to me right meow?” Chat Noir all but purred.

“I guess so.” Marinette shrugged, a smile and a blush spreading on her cheeks.

“Wow, then, I’m definitely putting Adrien in charge of the proposal planning,” he replied with a smirk.

“Chaton!” She stomped her foot, her mildly amused smile cancelling out her frown.

“What?” He teased her.

“Will you? Marry me?” She held his gaze.

“Do you even have to ask?” He chuckled. “You know, my Lady, I’m pretty sure that, in my head, we’ve been married since that speech you gave on the Eiffel Tower during our very first fight. Well, I’ve been married to you; you do whatever you please.”

“You’re such a dork,” Marinette laughed, brushing her nose against his and throwing her arms around his neck.

“And yet you still love me.” He pulled her closer.

“Unfortunately, I do,” she sighed dramatically before pressing a kiss to his lips.

Alix dismissed the screen. She’d seen what she wanted, and it seemed like a good place to stop; a happy, sappy ending. Also, she’d finished all of her popcorn.

Everything was on track, her friends would start their Hawkmoth hunt, and soon everybody in Paris would be able to live without fear of their own negative emotions.

(Of course, that was the theory; she’d soon find out that she’d underestimated Adrien’s will to organise the perfect wedding for Marinette, and that, my friends, was no small oversight.)

#miraculous ladybug #the miraculous tales of ladybug and cat noir #ml #mlb #miraculous fanfiction #miraculous fanfic #miraculous fanart #alix kubdel #bunnyx #ladynoir #ladybug #chat noir #half-reveal #one-sided reveal #aged-up characters #elle writes #elle sketches #yccom

[skelemira]

Ooooh whats Rowan's lore? *grabs popcorn*

ALRIGHT BUCKLE UP BUTTERCUPS

Gonna leave it after the cut (if I remember how to do the cut right on mobile lol) so I don't clog up feeds

So Rowan started out as a human. Her family was okay financially, probably lower middle class. Not rich enough to be truly comfortable, but not in a whole lot of danger debt-wise. She had a mother, a father, an older sister named Magnolia (Nolia for short) and a little brother named Cedar (lol do you see a naming pattern here I'm so creative). Her parents were... Okay. They weren't abusive or anything, but they weren't exactly doting. They didn't really have the time to be doting, since they both worked all the time. The siblings all got along really well, though, the type of siblings that stuck together initially because they lacked that true family relationship but slowly morphed into ride or die siblings.

So one day, little 14-year-old Rowan (Nolia was 16, soon to be 17, and Cedar was 10) gets home from school, pretty average, normal day.

She's sitting at the table doing her hw when someone knocks at the door and her parents (it was kind of weird, they were never home at this hour) rush to open it. There stands a man in a lab coat, holding an envelope. Rowan hated him instantly. Something about him seemed wrong.

He talked to her parents for a bit, and her parents asked her to go get Nolia and Cedar with some urgency in their voices. And.... If she was right in placing that tone.... Guilty excitement...?

She got her siblings and they came downstairs.

Turns out her parents had been closer to debt than she realized. So to get some more money and.... Relieve some financial burdens, they sold their kids to a group of scientists needing victi----research participants.

Of course there was a struggle, Nolia stepping up to try and defend her siblings, screaming at her parents, Rowan holding Cedar close while silent tears poured down both their faces.

But the scientist was prepared, and before anyone could react, three men appeared with rags, holding them over the kids' mouths.

She woke up in an empty white room.

Well... If you could call it white. It was more of a dinghy, hardly cleaned beige. These men were not with the government, she could immediately tell that.

Gonna sum up this part bc it involves torture but basically the scientists were experimenting to see if they could turn a human into a monster. They found only Rowan's soul was compatible. They used her siblings to keep her under control..... Only they had dumped Nolia and Cedar on the streets weeks ago. They simply reused footage to "prove" to Rowan they were still there.

They almost succeeded in their experiment. They forced so much magic into her soul that it started to flip.... But it was too much and Rowan flatlined. They dumped her body in the woods, only disappointed that they came so close.

A couple months passed. Her body decayed until only her skeleton remained. The decaying process was helped along by all the magic, which seemed to have concentrated in her bones, morphing them slowly until they were all connected.

She woke up.

She spent several years on the streets. She begged, she stole, and... She drank. Or at least she tried to. (She was allowed into bars because people thought she was a monster, and she wasn't wearing stripes, so that must mean she was an adult.) She quickly discovered that her alcohol tolerance was *legendary*. She drank bars dry having drinking contests with people (that's how she paid for all her drinks) but felt no different than before. Eventually someone dared her to try Everclear, and though she grimaced at the taste, she drank the entire bottle.

The bar was silent.

The taste eventually grew on her, a kind of self-inflicted punishment that soon became a routine, almost a comfort.

Now a good chunk of the next part has to do with my friend's sonas which I'm not going to talk about because they're not my characters, but suffice it to say they were amazing friends to her and helped her recover and get on her feet.

One such friend discovered her sleeping by Grillby's dumpster, and Grillby let her stay the night on his couch, setting up a job at Muffet's for her the next day. She and Muffet became really close friends and finally she started to have a more stable life. (She finds and dates Underlust Sans but that's another story lol which I would be happy to share in another ask~ but y'all these two are so cute plz)

So someone suggests she go see a therapist. Goodness knows she's got some trauma. So she agrees. The name of her therapist seems..... Eerily familiar but she decides to ignore her gut and go anyway. She walks into the therapist's office and---

And sees her mother sitting there, looking professional and well-rested and happy.

She runs.

Yeah so suffice it to say she isn't gonna trust therapy again for a bit lol, and it takes her even LONGER (and some good therapy sessions) to accept the fact that her mother was clearly better off without her and her siblings.

Yeah ya girl has a lot of issues, especially abandonment <3 she is very much a people pleaser and WILL put your needs high above her own. Anything to make you want to stay. Anything to make her feel needed or wanted.

So she's hanging out at Grillby's one day (he and his bartender like to try out different mixes on her, try to see if they can get her to make a face at a cocktail) when a huge party comes in. Rowan automatically shrinks a bit from discomfort because of the big crowd, and she continues her game with Grillby and the bartender (the bartender is my friend's sona that's why I'm not naming them lol). Then she hears something that makes her freeze mid-sip.

"Let's hear it for Magnolia!!!! The first of us to get tied down!" Followed by raucous laugh....ter...

She recognizes that laugh.

She flees the bar, with no explanation to anyone. She catches a glimpse of Nolia, with Cedar by her side, and both of their eyes squint slightly in confusion as she passes by them.

She makes it outside, looking around for where to go, unable to think in her panicked confusion when---

"R......Rowan?"

She goes ramrod straight and slowly turns, hands balled into fists to hide the violent shaking. Nolia bursts into tears, Cedar immediately clinging to her stiff form, his shoulders shaking as bad as her hands.

They.... Recognized her. They.........

Were *happy* to see her.

Slowly she hugged them back and they got to catching up. (So yeah if it wasn't clear Nolia was getting married, they both had survived on the streets together until Nolia was old enough to get a job).

Also something I forgot to mention lol is Rowan had found 2 kittens behind Muffet's, an older girl kitten fiercely protecting a little boy kitten. They immediately latched onto her after she made it clear she wasn't a threat, and she decided to name them after her siblings.

Also things worth noting, she smells like apples, she has magical red translucent hair, her soul wavers from more upside down like a monster's to more upright like a human's, she loves to bake, she is like the DEFINITION of cottagecore, she has magical tattoos on her face that change around to look like the Day of the Dead skulls (the colors get brighter or darker with her moods), and she drinks 2 bottle of everclear every time she goes to Grillby's. The paramedics in the area quickly become used to people calling the ambulance when she drinks (seriously look up everclear it's basically pure alcohol). She eventually stops drinking (not that it was *really* harming her since she had that alcohol tolerance and a body made primarily of magic at this point (plus alcohol isn't really gonna hurt her, she doesn't have kidneys lol) but she wanted to stop anyway. She loves to paint and teaches one of her friends to paint, tending to her friend's garden while her friend paints. She also loves to cook and bake, she eventually helps out with baking at Muffet's, though she refuses to bake the spiders into the pastries. Her scones are things of legend, they sell out as soon as she brings the tray out of the kitchen.

Yeah that was a lot lol and there's little things here and there that I missed so feel free to send in questions about her if you want to know anything! Or if you want to know how Rowan and UL Sans got together (spoiler: they eventually get married and it's so cute)

#ask #anon #oc time babyyyy #Rowan #Rowan beloved #also thank you guys so much for asking about her #I adore her so much and don't get the chance often to share her lore

[sadoeuphemist]

Stories I thought about writing, but didn’t:

my voice is poisonous, a gift from a strange god my parents once befriended. I’m careful not to speak, but I know they’re afraid.

A poison-voiced girl is born to deaf parents, but falls in love with a hearing boy. Their courtship is marked on her end by a thrilling restraint, biting her lip, knowing she could kill him with an indiscretion; he, on the other hand, longs to see her act without inhibition. He manages to make her laugh, sigh, gasp out in wonder - each time he falls ill from the poison of her voice, but is undeterred even in his convalescence, returning renewed in his goal to tease another sound out of her.

Her parents tell her to break it off; she’ll kill him. She reluctantly agrees. He refuses, pleads with her, grasps her hands so she can’t sign. In anguish she cries out his name — but lo! he does not sicken, does not die. It turns out his repeated exposures to her voice have mithridatized him against it. She can speak around him freely! They both agree that this development has taken a lot of the excitement out of the relationship, but it has been replaced with a greater casualness and intimacy that balances it out.

I can see the angels in their true form, a thousand splendid eyes and all. They think it’s funny, and have taken to hanging around my apartment 

The angels start making excuses to keep showing up at my apartment, in the manner of the annunciation, but for increasingly trivial reasons. They come bearing tidings about how I should definitely get the turkey wrap for lunch, which brand of fabric softener I should buy, how that quarter I’ll find on the sidewalk is a sign that I am favored by God. They come bearing bad tidings too: The Lord has heard of all the evil in your printer, and has sent us here to jam it. Their presence becomes completely overbearing, but they are insistent. There’s a reason you see us in our true forms, they say, all their splendid eyes shining. Is it so hard to believe that the God that formed every atom of you in the womb should watch over you always, that every mundane moment of your existence in this world is shot through with the divine?

There was a body in the river, ice cold and snow white. Sometimes it was all the way dead. Sometimes it sat up and talked to me.

A king has declared that whoever can complete the following tasks shall marry his daughter: 1) to recover a lost treasure stolen from his family hundreds of years ago; 2)  to name the start of the pact between men and horses; and 3) to find a cure to the plague ravaging the land.

Our plucky folk hero helps an old lady who sits by the river; she tells him of the snow white body within, who has sat up and spoken to her at odd times throughout her life. It is the spirit of the glacier: the glacier melts, and forms the river; layer by layer the past frozen in it is uncovered, parts of it living and parts of it dead. Our hero builds many bonfires and melts the glacier faster; the body lives and dies and lives many times over and tells him the three answers. 1) The thief fell into a crevasse and was frozen over; the ice is melted now, and the treasure can be recovered. 2) Iron horseshoes frozen in the glacier reveal the pact is many thousands of years old. 3) The plague is an old one, frozen and released anew with the glacier’s melting; it is carried in the livestock, and they must be slaughtered.

The hero solves the king’s tasks and marries his daughter. Presumably the new king is then faced with the challenge of the rising sea levels; no idea how that plays out.

“We’re all nice to each other here,” they told us, “we’ve got angels in the hills. They like it when we’re nice. And they see everything.”

This one’s tough to summarize adequately. Two men are going door to door, seemingly taking a survey of the religious beliefs in a small town. They finish, sit together in their car. People have been very cooperative. One of the men remarks that the local religious beliefs are disappointingly unremarkable: yes, they believe in angels watching from the hills, but most people believe in an omniscient God watching over them, and whether it is God or his intercessors, does it make a significant difference?

They sit in the car. Perhaps they smoke in the lazy sunlight. They have finished their survey ahead of time. One of them proposes: Suppose we have a picnic lunch up in the hills?

They park at the base of the hill and walk up. Lovely day. They spread out a blanket from the car, stretch their legs out on the grass, take off their coats, loosen their ties. They’ve brought their packed lunch, sandwiches, a thermos of lemonade. They talk about how pleasant all the people were. Their kind of religion seems so ... brittle, one of the men remarks. If I thought there was someone waiting to punish me the moment I stepped out of line, I’d want to do something horrible just to get it over with.

You think so? says his partner. I think just the opposite. The grand problem with religion is that there aren’t enough consequences for wickedness. I know if I saw the wicked being smote down on a regular basis, I would very satisfied in my religion indeed.

Well, of course you would; you’re a sadist.

Me? A sadist? Hardly.

You’re a sadist, his partner says teasingly. A sadist and brute.

They smile at each other. Idle conversation. There is a suggestion that they have visited many such towns and cities, asking the same question, but have yet to receive a satisfactory answer. At one point one of them notes that there’s something in the trees, but this remark is ignored and nothing is ever made of it. The conversation turns back to whether the angels in the hills are real or not. The ‘sadist’ stands up, declares his intent to do something wicked to test them. He marches around, swinging his arms, then looks around at the trees and puts his hands on his hips and laughs.

You know, up here away from society, he declares, I can’t think of a single wicked thing to do!

(Maybe a conversation here about how he could tear branches from trees, despoil the scenery, find an animal to kill; but then again animals in nature strip bark from trees, kill each other bloodily all the time, tear each other to bits, so how wicked could that be, really?)

He looks down at his partner still lying back on the blanket. Unless, of course, I were to do something wicked to you.

Whatever happens next, it is very leisurely. The scene is easy, very relaxed. Lovely day. Calm. Bright blue sky. Clouds float across it, white like feathered wings, and then pass, leaving not a trace behind.

None of us can imagine what life was like before the Clocks came, before clockwork cities, and all their technology. They rebuilt our crumbling society, in perfect, mechanical order. 

Brief musings on a hypothetical pre-Clock society. A society built around the sun, all buildings roofless, everyone’s necks craned upward. Cities built running north to south so as not to block anyone’s view of the rise and set. A society built around hourglasses, everyone judging the passage of time by the sand puddling around their feet, knees, waists, clambering up onto growing dunes, waiting for the flip, for the sand to slowly drain away and the furnishings of their homes to be uncovered. Perhaps this was our unimaginable life before the Clocks came: sands stretching far away and bare, the hypothetical counterpart bulb of an hourglass reflected invisible above us, empty and vast with unrealized possibility, waiting to be reset.

When I was very young, I met a bear at the edge of the woods. Before I could play dead, it bowed to me.

Jokey little fic where a child is instructed on the etiquette of bears: when to bow, when to curtsy, when to raise your hands and make yourself as large as possible, when to climb a tree, when to play dead. (Note that grizzlies are territorial, so if they attack you and play dead they’ll leave you alone because the threat is neutralized; whereas black bears are not territorial, so playing dead will do no good because a black bear will only attack if it deliberately wants to fuck you up.)

I was given very specific instructions. Go to the rosebush on a clear night. As the moonlight turns the roses silver, feed them three drops of blood.

After years of trying for a child, a couple turns to an old witch to help. The woman is instructed to eat a rose from a magical rosebush. If she first pricks her finger and stains the rose red with her blood, then she will have a son, ruddy and robust and bold in battle; if she visits the bush on a clear night and eats a rose painted silver by moonlight, then she will have a daughter, as pale and graceful and elegant as the moon.

The woman is uneasy with the implications of this binary, and says so. The witch smiles and gives her a new set of instructions. So she pricks her finger at night, her blood painted black by the moonlight, and nine months later gives birth to a child as black as a rose, who is neither boy nor girl.

Never manged to come up with a plot for this one. The kid grows up to have a career fulfilling all those “Neither man nor woman” prophecies? Eh. Kinda corny. There’s something about gender roles in fairy tales here, but I couldn’t put it together.

Not for the first time, the company time loop drill had gone very, very wrong.

I did actually write a response for this one, but it got too long and I gave up on it. Summary of the rest of the idea I had:

Time resets. Nagle confirms that it is both an actual time loop and a drill; the company is doing a controlled time loop to prepare them for the real thing. People complain. What’s the point of a drill when an actual time loop would let you keep doing things over and over until you get it right? Nagle points out that could take years, subjectively, and that this is a controlled experience where he has a code to abort the exercise if anything seriously goes wrong. He insists they try to make it work.

They go through a bunch of loops. Don’t succeed. It’s highly technical stuff that none of them are trained for. Morale drops. People start complaining, they’ve spent hours at this, they should be off duty by now. Nagle points out there’s a ruling, established with VR training, that companies don’t need to pay their employees according to their subjective experience of time, and officially they’ve only spent 34 minutes at this.

More loops. Morale drops further. People start demanding Nagle use the abort code, threatening to quit. Nagle points out that while they’re in this time loop, their actions are consequence-free, but once he ends the loop they’ll have to live with their decisions for the rest of their lives. Are they sure they really want to quit?

At that point someone loses it and kills Nagle. Shock. Panic. Some satisfaction. He’s reborn the next loop, starts screaming about it - someone kills him again. Complete social breakdown. Eventually some people decide, fuck it, let’s just live in this loop forever. Killing Nagle becomes a standard thing they do at the start of every loop, so that he can’t input the abort code. They go through various reconfigurations of their social group - orgies, riots, open paranoia where everyone colonizes a different part of the building, regressing to primitivism, open warfare between various sects, rebuilding of society along different axes of thought. Everyone starts thinking of themselves as immortal, they start calling themselves things like ‘Chronobog of the Infinite Plane of Despair’ or whatever; the narration gets increasingly surreal.

After god knows how many cycles of this, everyone finally achieves an equilibrium of perfect enlightenment. They know what must be done. They leave Nagle alive, he watches as they move in perfect unison to unlock the server room and overcome all the obstacles and repair the tachyon servers, loop is finally terminated, normal flow of time resumes.

Nagle stands up, gives a speech, starts congratulating them on completing the drill. As he talks, everyone can feel the rapport they’ve built start to slip away - they no longer understand each other perfectly outside of the context of those 34 minutes. Time is moving forward again, and with it introducing unfamiliarity, uncertainty, an impossible onslaught of variables that they cannot predict or prepare for, and they are all moving inescapably further from each other even as they glance around and try to catch each other’s eyes and keep holding on to that feeling of perfect unity - but it’s too late now, they are strangers behind familiar faces, all of them heading in their own directions, going to be returning to their own separate lives; that moment of solidarity they had is past.

And then Nagle claps his hands at them and says, “OK, drill’s over, everyone back to work!”

#fiction #dumping grounds

[cozy-the-overlord]

Dances and Daggers

Summary:   The Summer Festival is upon Asgard, as is the tradition of the dagger ceremony, where each unmarried gentleman chooses a lady to bestow with the honor of carrying his dagger for the night. As Prince Thor’s betrothed, Teki’s only goal is to accept his dagger with grace and hope that her violent stepfather doesn’t find fault with her in the process. But Prince Thor is unpredictable, and when he ignores his engagement on a whim Teki finds herself in a desperate situation. Luckily, Thor isn’t the only prince in Asgard…

Pairing: Loki x Original Female Character

Chapter 14: The Reckoning

Previous Chapter  |  Next Chapter

Word Count: 2,438

Chapter Summary: With Loki gone, Teki finds herself reaching a breaking point.

A/N:  I’m sorry.

This chapter includes depictions of violence.

Thanks for reading!

TW: Graphic violence, child abuse

Tags: @lucywrites02 @gaitwae @moumouton4 @berriemalfoy @whatafuckingdumbass

if you want to be tagged, feel free to just send me an ask/message! :)

Read it on Ao3!

The rest of the day passed in a blur. Somehow, Teki managed to return to her rooms, although she didn’t remember how—she was fairly certain the Queen had offered to escort her back, but she wasn’t sure if she actually had or not. Perhaps she was in shock, or perhaps her mother’s training to keep a mannerly expression was rooted deeper than she realized, but some way or another Teki made it back to her bedroom before she completely fell apart.

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. She sobbed into the front of her dress, the words circling her head in an endless chant. It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair.

It wasn’t fair.

He was the only person she had, the only person she could talk to, the only person who would listen. He was the only place were she could smile, where she could stretch out and actually breathe instead of suffocating all alone laced into a crimson dress. He was the only person in her life that didn’t have to care about her and somehow the only person who did.

And they had taken him away.

It was clear that her mother and Osvald had known about it. The dressmaker debacle made sense now—it was all planned, to keep her and Loki from protesting until it was too late. That night, Teki face down on her bed, hiccupping into her pillow, listening them whispering outside her door.

“It’s a good thing,” her mother was saying. “Even with her throwing a fit about it. I’m glad the King agreed. He was just mucking everything up.”

Teki turned her head to the wall, staring but not seeing. Empty vials of poison danced across her vision.

Was Daddy mucking everything up too, Mama?

She was still sniffling that night when her door creaked open just a crack.

“Teki?” Brant’s voice was hushed, uncertain. “Can I sleep with you?”

She quickly wiped her cheeks, humming in quiet affirmation as she grasped for her responsible voice. “Did you have a bad dream?”

Ever since he had learned to walk, Brant had been sneaking into her room at night, fleeing his bed and the snarling creatures he was certain lurked in the darkness. He had only stopped this a few months ago, after Osvald found them curled up together one morning and spent breakfast ranting on about how Teki was turning his son into a recreant.

But tonight, Brant shook his head as he crawled under her covers.

She frowned. “Then what’s wrong?”

He stared up at her with wide eyes that glistened in the faint moonlight coming in from the window.

“You’re sad,” he said.

Oh, Brant. Teki pulled him close, and he hugged her back. She rested her cheek against his sandy hair. It was nice to have somebody to hold on to.

“Yes, I’m sad right now,” she murmured. “But it’s going to be okay. I promise. I’ll be fine.”

“I have to take care of you,” he whispered solemnly. “Prince Loki told me I’m s’posed to.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Prince Loki?” she asked. “When did he tell you that?”

“He came while you and Mama were gone. He said they were sending him away and he had to talk to you. He said he’d be learning more magic things, so when he came back he’d be able to give me wings.”

Teki bit her lip. She wondered what he would’ve said, had he managed to get to her before they sent him off. She thought of the day of the Games, hidden away in the healer’s tent.

I don’t want you to marry my brother.

Next to her, Brant inhaled.“Teki?” he asked slowly, as if he were afraid to put the thought to words.“Do you think you could maybe marry Prince Loki instead?”

There was a lump in her throat as she pushed his bangs out of his face. “No,” she sighed. “It has to be Thor.” Saying out loud only made the cords around her heart pull tighter.

“I like Loki better,” he whispered, barely a breath.

Teki stared into the nighttime shadows. “So do I.”

Suddenly, Brant grinned through the darkness. "We could run away!” he hissed excitedly. “Prince Loki says there's secret tunnels all over Yggdrasil. We could go through one and meet Loki in Vanaheim!"

"Brant." She hadn't heard that one before, but it sounded like something the prince would tell her brother. Teki felt very tired. "That's just a story. They're aren't any secret tunnels."

"Yes there are! He told me where— I put them on my map!" He sat up, readying to crawl off the bed. "I'll show you!"

Teki pulled him back. She wished she had his steadfast belief in everything-- in magic wings and secret tunnels and happily ever after. As it was, all she could do was hold him closer. "It wouldn't work," she said. "They'd follow us and take us back. It wouldn't work."

For a moment, Brant seemed completely deflated, but then he perked up once again. “If I change my wish, do you think he could make it happen?” he asked excitedly. “Instead of the wings?”

Something about his face, the way hope seemed to radiate from his smile, crushed her even more.

“No,” she whispered. “Nothing’s going to change.”

…

The next week was less of a continuous period of time and more like a string of actions that looped over and over again. She dressed. She played piano for Frigga. She picked halfheartedly at her food. She waited for Thor to ask her to dance, then waited for him to move on once he had. She fell asleep to the empty throbbing of her heart.

Rinse and repeat.

Sometimes at night, she’d  pull Loki’s dagger from its sheath and stared at her reflection in the polished blade, running her hands over the golden snakes on the hilt and wondering what he was doing. He had said he had always wanted to study in Vanaheim. She wondered if he was enjoying it. She hoped he was. Somehow, the thought that he was just as miserable worlds away from her as she was here made Teki feel even worse.

Her mother tolerated her gloom for a bit, but by the end of the week it was clear she was ready to move on.

“I had an idea!” she announced one day after barging into her room without warning. Teki had barely any time to shove the dagger into her nightstand drawer, but luckily her mother didn’t seem to notice her scrambling. “You know those little white cakes you love, that they make for the Winter Festival? I was thinking that perhaps we could convince the chefs to make an early batch. We’re nearing fall after all, and I can’t imagine that they’d refuse a request from the Crown Prince’s bethrothed!”

Teki mumbled a nondescript reply. Speaking to her mother—even looking at her—had suddenly become one of the most difficult tasks throughout the day. She avoided it when she could.

“Or, perhaps the three of us could take a day trip to the countryside! Remember that little cove we visited when Brant was a baby?”

When Teki didn’t even bother to answer this time, her mother huffed indignantly. “Tekla, I am trying here. You can’t just sit and mope in your bedroom forever.”

“Why did you marry Osvald?” Teki asked suddenly. It had been a question that had clung to her like a shadow for the last few days, Loki’s words rattling in her head. Your mother had a plethora of other options. Why Osvald? Of all people?

For a moment, her mother was stunned into silence. She laughed nervously. “Well, your stepfather and I met, and we got along very well, and we felt that we liked each other very much—”

“I don’t believe you.” The Teki of last month—the Teki of last week—would have fainted at the thought of such bitter words, but now she didn’t even flinch.

Her face darkened into a deep scowl. “What do you mean you don’t believe me?”

She should’ve stopped there, but the simmering resentment that had been bubbling within her for so long had just found a vent.

“Why did you really marry him?” she snapped. “What did he do to get you to marry him?”

“Stop!” her mother snapped. “I’ve had enough of this from you! You’ve had your time to sulk, now we have appearences to maintain.” She stormed from the room, only pausing briefly in the doorway to spit one threat. “If you won’t listen to me, then perhaps you should have a talk with your stepfather.”

The door slammed as she left. Teki sat in silence as the vibrations echoed in her eardrums. She had the sudden urge to scream—just to scream, at the top of her lungs until the windows shattered and the very foundations of the palace shook—but she swallowed it.

…

It came to a head the next day. She had just taken Brant for a walk in the gardens—his idea, as he insisted that looking at flowers always made people feel better. It had been sweet sentiment, and Teki tried her best to smile for him as they strolled past the lake, hoping that her brother didn’t realize that the sparkling water only reminded her more of Loki.

When they returned to their apartment, Osvald was waiting just inside. His cold glare immediately screamed trouble, but it wasn’t until she realized what it was that he was holding that Teki’s chest turned to ice.

“I found your little hiding spot.” His voice was low and dangerous as he tapped her father’s journal against his other hand.

Teki didn’t say anything. She watched the journal swing up and down against his palm, hypnotized by the soft beat of worn leather against skin. Besides her, Brant whimpered, gripping her hand more tightly. She didn’t move. Something kept her frozen in place, but it wasn’t the usual chill of fear. No, a single thought broke through the fog in her mind as she watched her only physical memory of her father dance in Osvald’s hands.

How dare you.

“You stole from us,” he continued. “You went through your mother’s things and you stole from us.”

“I didn’t steal anything.” She felt Brant stiffen at her words. You didn’t talk back to Osvald. They both knew this. They both knew what would happen if you did. But the fire blazing within burned through her caution.

Osvald was seemed taken aback by her bitterness, but he recovered quickly. “No?” He stalked closer to her, waving the journal in her face. “You’re lying to me now? Is this what I’ve raised? A filthy, lying little thief?”

“I didn’t steal anything,” she repeated. Every instinct in her body was screaming at her to drop her gaze, but she held her glare into his glittering eyes. How dare you. “That book is my father’s. It belongs to me.”

His scowl deepened. “I am your father. And I will not tolerate this behavior—”

“You’ll never be my father.”

She cried out when his fist crashed into her abdomen, doubling over as pain exploded across her ribcage and air rushed from her mouth. Her stepfather grabbed her by the shoulders and shoved her backwards, slamming into the door. Colors splashed across her vision as her head smacked against the wood. Before she could completely lose her balance, Osvald yanked her up by the front of her dress.

“You think you’re tough, don’t you?” he hissed, throwing her back to the floor. Somewhere in the background, Brant was sobbing. “Brave little bitch.” His boot collided with her chest. Teki’s pained scream almost drowned out the sickening crack from her ribs. His foot came down again.

Her chest was on fire.  

Teki coughed as she struggled to shield her abdomen, the taste of blood metallic and heavy on the back of her throat. He kicked her again, crashing against her lower back. When she gasped for her next breath, it felt like burning coals rushing down her airways.

“You never seem to learn, do you?” he snapped. She braced herself for the next blow, but instead her stepfather cursed.

Painfully, she craned her neck just enough to see her little brother pulling at Osvald’s arm.  “Stop it!” he cried, tears running down his cheeks. “Get away from her!”

No—

Teki fought to get up but her limbs weren’t working properly, everything was throbbing, she couldn’t move, she couldn’t breathe—

Brant shrieked in pain, a horrible screech that cut Teki to her very core. The room shook as a body hit the floor, Osvald growling words that she couldn’t hear over the pounding of her heart.

Get away him from Brant—get him away from Brant—

Her brother lay lifeless on the ground, Osvald towering over him like some malevolent spirit about to feast. Teki wasn’t sure how she made it to her feet, but once she did, she flung herself at her stepfather with the last shreds of strength she could muster.

He must not have been expecting her to move, because when she collided with him her meager effort was enough to send both of them tumbling to the ground. Her body howled as they hit the hard wood. She had barely enough time to gulp for air before Osvald had her pinned to the floor.

“Is that the game you want to play, you fucking cunt?” he snarled, his hand a vice around her neck. Teki thrashed against his grasp, but he only pounded her head against the floorboards. “Is this what you fucking wanted?”

She couldn’t breathe. Teki clawed at his hand in a panic as she battled for air, scanty gasps that were rewarded with a tighter grip.

She couldn’t breathe!

“Please!” she choked as his wild eyes bored into her. Her vision was going white around the edges. “Please!”

Osvald didn’t budge.

He’s going to kill me.

Tears flooded the corners of her eyes, running down the sides of her head.

Dead dead dead dead dead dead—

Please! she screamed in her head, for her voice no longer worked. Please! Mama! Norns! Somebody!

But it was only Osvald, panting down at her with eyes as black as Hel—

I don’t want to die!

Only Osvald, sneering mouth twisted in laughter because he knew no one else was coming—

… please …

But there was nothing. Even her stepfather dissolved into a million bits of sparkling glitter as Teki faded away into the white abyss.

#loki x ofc #loki marvel #loki fanfic #dances and daggers #dances and daggers chapter 14 #the reckoning