#yet this is the one that rattled my psyche

[rottendecomp]

I had a dream the other day I met part of the cast + official artists for The Hotel and they saw my fanart and they liked it so much they hired me, but I was so painfully awkward and cringe I panic thinking about it.

#it wasnt real and the dream was fairly nonsensical #but im scared if anyone thats ever worked on the hotel sees me #theyll know how cringefail i was in this hypothetical encounter #and regard me with disgust #and tbh i wasnt even that awkward and everyone was very nice #but its still mortifying #for perspective most of my dreams are me/friends/family/pets/etc dying slowly and horribly #or some other torture labyrinth #yet this is the one that rattled my psyche

[kaciidubs]

Open Heart

❣ Summary: When you don't know what to say or do, when life starts living you, you can always rely on Chris to bring you back. ❣  ❣ Word Count: 3.2k ❣ Warnings: Mental breakdown, existential crisis, implied panic attack, angst, fluff, comfort, crying, Supportive BF! Chris, Reader is a mess mentally and emotionally, discussions of family, careers, life, and the future, self doubt, self deprecation, mentioned disassociation ❣  ❣ Female! Reader [No use of Y/N] | You/Your pronouns ❣  ❣ Additional Tags: Chan is referred to as Chris, Channie, Baby, Christopher, and Christopher Bahng [wowie], Reader is referred to as Princess, Baby, Love, Sweet Girl, this is the one that's personal so I'm sorry if you can relate but also you're not alone ❣ Stray Kids Masterlist ❣ General Masterlist

“Yeah, dad, I know... Mhm... No, I haven’t heard back from them yet, but it’s only been a week since I applied so... Yeah, I know…”

You paced the living room of your apartment, holding your phone to your ear as you did your best to tame the headache brewing in your head. 

“I know you do, it’s just - there’s so many things I can do with my degree, I’m just trying to figure out what I want to do... I know... Yeah... Okay... Talk to you later... Love you too, bye.” 

Ending the call, you tossed your phone onto the couch with a heavy sigh - the weight of the world piling on top of stress already weighing on your shoulders. 

Everything sucked - almost as if the world was out to get you for simply existing; years of doing what was right, doing what you were supposed to, only for you to still feel like you weren’t doing enough. 

People pleasing. 

A wave of guilt made your stomach turn, tears stinging behind your eyes as you stood in the silence, yet it still felt so loud. 

You knew your dad meant well, your parents meant well, your family meant well, but every question, every poorly veiled nudge of ‘What’s your next big move going to be? You’ve been stagnant for so long.’ ate at your psyche at every turn. You felt like you did everything; you graduated high school in the high percentage of your class, you went to college, you graduated as a first generation student after five excruciatingly long years - yet through all that they still wanted more from you. 

A pleasure to have known. You have so much potential.

If you had a dime for the amount of times you’ve heard those words, you would’ve been a millionaire by now. 

A shaky breath rattled in your chest as you sighed, your hands rising to cup your rapidly heating face. “Fuck... F-Fuck.”

Your vision blurred, salty tears stinging your eyes before burning fiery trails down your cheeks with no signs of stopping. 

When was it going to be enough? When were you going to be enough? 

Your breath hitched, choking on a sob that your body refused to let go - not now, not right now. You were still young, you had so much potential - so why did it feel like you were being rushed? Why did it feel like everyone saw some invisible clock above you, counting down the days until you’d become useless? 

Wasted potential - those words always used to scare you, the famous buzzwords of any educator wanting to instill proper work ethic in their students; the future of the workforce. 

Wasted potential - that’s what you were beginning to feel at your 9-5; a quaint little job you kept throughout your final semester, something that got the bills paid and kept a little more in your savings. 

Wasted potential - that’s what you felt when your days began blending together, when you realized disassociation was your coping mechanism until your mouse hovered over ‘clock out’. 

You wanted to do so much, so much, but there was never enough time in the day - they were never ideas that would earn you a proper living wage, a career path your family wouldn’t agree with. 

Your body shook as a sob finally tore through your silent cries, your head throbbing as air tried to force its way into your lungs - crying never used to hurt like this.

Your world spun, it felt like time froze while speeding up, but all you could do was cry - stand in your living room and cry like a reprimanded child because you weren’t doing what you were supposed to. 

“Princess?” 

Your eyes snapped open behind your fingers, quickly registering a bigger, warmer pair wrapping around your wrists. 

“Baby, can you hear me?” 

Guilt. 

Chris was home early, and instead of relaxing like he deserved, he now had to tend to you - crying over the same thing you cried over four months ago. 

He felt you tense, he could see the spiral of overthinking, and his grip tightened, “Hey, hey, it’s just me - it’s just me, princess.” 

You sniffled, biting back another sob as you shook your head, “’M s-sorry-” 

“Shh, don’t apologize - you don’t have to apologize, not to me, not for this.” 

Understanding - he was always so good at that, making sure you knew you weren’t the problem of anything; he always joked he got better at it from you. 

Another wave of tears surged through you, nearly making you double over at the rush of fresh emotions popping off in your brain, your jaw tensing as you tried to stifle the illegible babbling falling from your lips. 

“I- It’s- I can’t- And- It’s just so-” 

Chris pulled you into his chest, one arm wrapping around your shoulders while the other cradled the back of your neck, his thumb rubbing circles just behind your ear. “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay - I’m here, you’re okay.” 

He blinked away his own tears, the sounds of your cries breaking his heart when he entered the apartment, and now the feeling of your body shaking against his like a fall leaf utterly tearing him apart inside. 

You weren’t sure how long you both stood there, him whispering words of comfort in your ear while you stained his black hoodie with your tears, but you slowly came out of your breakdown with uneven breaths - your hands holding onto his hoodie as if he was your lifeline. 

He was your lifeline.

“Can we go to the bedroom, princess? Can we manage that?” He cooed softly, a soft smile settling on his lips as he felt you nod. “Okay, we’ll go slow, yeah?” 

True to his word, he slowly led you into the bedroom with shuffling steps, noting how you clung to him like a baby koala, as if you separated from him at any point you’d float away into space. 

Sitting on the bed first, he scooted toward the middle of the mattress and you quickly followed suit; crawling toward him before laying your head on his chest, tangling your legs with his while he pulled you into his side. 

It was quiet, save for the occasional hiccuped breath and sniffle, the sound of his heartbeat slowing the thudding in your own head, the rise and fall of his chest reminding you how to breathe again.

“Love?” 

You hummed softly, your free hand nonchalantly playing with the drawstring of his hoodie. 

“Wanna talk about what happened?” 

Dropping your hand to lay flat on his chest, you took a deep breath to fight back another round of tears threatening to come out. “I... My dad called to check in, see how we were doing and all... He wanted to know if I found a different job yet, one that uses my degree, and I told him I hadn’t.” Swallowing thickly, you squeezed your eyes shut as you continued, “He’s worried that I’m not using my full potential, that I’m not getting paid what I should - and I don’t blame him, really, I went to college for a reason and everything, but it just feels like I'm being rushed into making another decision I’m not ready for." 

“Another decision like picking your major?” Chris chimed in - he’d remembered you telling him about your realization of wanting to switch majors in your junior year, but ultimately choosing not to since you were close to graduating at the time. 

You nodded, “I know he means well, I love my dad, I love my family, but it just feels like they don’t understand that I'm just...tired. I’m so, so tired that the idea of getting a new job - when I’ve only been at this one for just over a year - makes me feel like I can’t breathe. Fuck, the fact that I’ve been at this job for a year makes my skin crawl because this isn't what I want.”

Picking mindlessly at a few cotton pills collected on the fabric of his hoodie, a heavy sigh escaped you, “I feel like all I’ve been doing my whole life is performing for other people, catering to other people, to the point that I don’t even know who I am. I’ve always been told all these great things about myself, but-” A hot tear rolled across the bridge of your nose, “I don’t believe them, at all. Everyone sees all this potential in me and it drives me crazy because I don’t see potential in myself.”

Your name rolled off of his tongue softly, with so much care and gentleness that it made your heart hurt more because he’d been part of the crowd singing your praises and you practically confessed that you didn’t believe him. 

“Princess, my sweet, sweet girl…” 

“C-Chris, I’m-” 

“Please,” he cut you off with a gentle squeeze, “you already know what I’m gonna say if the next words out of that pretty mouth of yours are ‘I’m sorry’.”

Sighing softly, you accepted that fate as his right hand slid down your arm to take your hand in his, another gentle squeeze to remind you that he’s right here. 

“I just... I don’t know what I’m going to do.” 

“Well,” Chris hummed softly, taking in the way your smaller fingers threaded between his own, “what is it you want to do?” 

It was almost as if you stopped breathing, guilt and shame swirling around in your head at his question - the golden question everyone had, but never got the full answer to. 

“...open heart?” 

This time it was Chris’s turn to falter, craning his neck to catch a glimpse of your tear stained face. “Open heart, princess, always.” 

Open heart, something you’d both established years ago in your relationship as a way of asking for full attention - reestablishing that you both were in a safe space with zero judgment, remaining heart to heart with one another. 

“I-” You paused, fighting against the will of your mind wanting to keep yourself protected, from being seen. “I... I don't want to do anything…”

Before he even had the chance to breathe, you jumped into the defensive, “A-And I know that’s stupid- I’m in such a position so early on in my life and there’s so much I can do, but, baby, I’m at a point right now that I can’t see myself working a 9-5 for the next month, let alone another 40-or so years of my life!” Panic quickly began to set in as your thoughts ran a mile a minute, your brain begging you to stop but your heart pleading for you to get rid of this weight. “I can’t be a girl boss, I don’t want to be independent, I-I just wanna be taken care of and loved and supported - I wanna take care of all the things at home and be the one helping you reset after those stressful days. I wanna learn about myself and my hobbies and discover what kind of person I really am underneath all of these learned traits. And I’m sorry, I know, it’s pathetic, it’s shameful, it’s selfish to want to put all of this onto you-” 

The sound of your name falling firm from his lips stopped you in your tracks, your blood running cold as you laid as still as you could be against him. 

“Open heart means we can’t speak for each other, remember that rule?” His tone was softer, light and teasing, quelling the tinge of fear spoiling every word you spoke as you nodded. “Okay, good - now, can I say something, or would you like to continue?” 

“Please say something, Channie.” 

“Alright, first and foremost, don’t ever, ever call anything you want ‘stupid’ - your desires are what make you you, and that includes wanting that 24-inch green matcha squishmallow.” 

He felt your body shake - short laugh, a huff of air, a sign that he was breaking through.

“Second, I don’t think you wanting to be provided for is pathetic or shameful or selfish - it takes a strong person to admit that, and at the end of the day I think that’s what everyone wants in their own special form; somewhere they feel safe, cared for, loved. And, you’re not putting it all on me,” he felt you tense, but his hand held firm to yours, “because I want to be that for you. I want to provide for you, take care of you, handle all the things that are too big and scary for you to figure out on your own. I want to give you the freedom to explore and be yourself, pursue what you want and don’t want to do - and if that makes you ‘selfish’ then, princess, I’m the most selfish person of them all.”

“You-” your voice cracked, throat raw and sore, “You don’t mean that, baby, please-”

“C’mere.” He huffed, pulling you up with him as he sat up before tapping your thigh, signaling for you to sit on his lap - and once you were situated, he cupped your face in his hands, “I would never lie to you, you hear me? Since the day we met I knew I wanted to do everything in my power to care for you, even when we were just friends and you would join the kids in teasing me about how old I was even though you weren’t too far off yourself.” 

Your pouted lips morphed into a sad smile and he had to stop himself from cooing over how cute you looked, even with puffy eyes and an even puffier face.

“Plus, I’ve been taking care of seven other people for the better half of five years, what makes you think I don’t want to do the same for the love of my life?”

Teary eyes searched his for any sign of dishonesty, but all you found was overflowing truth and love, a fresh breath of acceptance cooling your lungs like drinking ice water after eating a mint.

“Open heart?” You murmured softly, taking his hands in your own before pulling them off of your, embarrassingly sore, face.

He nodded, ducking his head to press a fleeting kiss to your knuckles.

“I was always a little jealous of you, you know that?”

“Me?!” 

The shocked squeak in his voice made a giggle, a genuine giggle, bubble up inside of you and you nodded in earnest. 

“Yeah, you. I always felt like I was so far behind everyone around me when it came to having their passions in order, having their lives in order, and when I met you all I could think about was how sure of yourself you were - how you were able to follow through and actually do what you love for a living not only because people around you supported you, but because you believed in yourself.” Dropping your gaze to your entwined hands, you traced your thumbs along his knuckles, “You always knew what you wanted and you worked toward it - I always wished I could be like that, I still do.”

“Baby, you know you can’t-”

“-compare my life to yours, yeah, yeah, I know.”

He didn’t miss the lilt of playfulness highlighting your words, a smile finding its way to his face as he shot you a lighthearted glare, “No mocking! But, really, you shouldn’t - we come from completely different backgrounds, and if anything I’m more jealous of you than you are of me; there’s so many things you’ve done that I haven’t had the chance to experience.”

You let out an incredulous scoff, tilting your head inquisitively, “Like what? Work a draining part time job in the food industry?”

“Yes!” Though he was laughing, you could still hear the serious notes in his voice, “You got to work retail, you went on family vacations whenever you wanted, you fucking graduated college before I did!”

“Okay, first of all, all of my horror stories should deter you from ever wanting to become a retail employee in your near future!” Dropping his hand, you poked him in the chest with a faux glare, “Second, I guess you’ve got me there - between how often I’ve seen my family compared to you, I do win that spot… But that last one you definitely have over me, Mr. Double Major!”

“Oh shut up - you’re a graduate, I’m still in classes; you didn’t have to go from having practice at 8 but an exam due at 8:30, while still needing two demo tracks ready for the first listen at 10!”

The two of you dissolved into a mess of giggles and smiles, whatever tension remained melting away with each melodic sound that escaped you.

“Princess?”

You hummed, a soft smile settling on your lips, “Yeah, Channie?”

“Open heart,” Chris started warmly, deep brown eyes sparkling with a love only you could know, “I want you to know that I meant every word I said - I do want to take care of you, physically, mentally, financially, whatever way you’ll let me. And - not to sound cocky or anything, but I definitely make enough to support the both of us with no issue. Aside from that, I want to build a life with you - so if that life includes you being the hottest stay at home wife then it’s the best life I could’ve ever asked for because you’re in it.”

A wave of heat rushed over you as butterflies erupted in your stomach, “Stay at home wife, hm?” 

Of course, you paid attention to everything else he said, but you didn’t think you’d be able to say anything on it without bursting into tears again.

“Would you prefer stay at home mom? I mean, you’ve already got seven kids calling you it anyways - and I can’t lie, it does have a nice ring to it.” He grinned, releasing your other hand to wind his arms around your waist, scooting your body closer to his.

Rolling your eyes at his less than subtle tease, you snaked your arms around his shoulders, nails playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck, “Let’s just start with stay at home girlfriend and see where we go from there, yeah?”

“So you’ll quit tomorrow?”

“Christopher!” You stood no chance in holding back the burst of laughter that escaped you, narrowly avoiding knocking your head against his as you shook with unabashed giggles, “Tomorrow? You sound like you’ve been waiting for this confession to come!”

“Baby, I was one more angry rant of your supervisor ‘springing last minute work onto you’ away from quitting for you.”

Reeling yourself back in, you leaned forward to capture his lips in a soft kiss, your world finally feeling like the pieces were slowly falling into place - or, at the very least, revealing themselves to you. “I love you, Christopher Bahng, wholly and truthfully, there’s no words in the entire galaxy to express how much you mean to me.”

He held you tight, pressing his forehead against yours with a soft sigh, “I love you more, more than you ever know, more than all the stars in this universe and the next. Whatever you decide, whatever you want, I’ll give it to you - just say the word.”

“Does that include ordering takeout for dinner tonight so we can keep cuddling?”

“Find a menu while I change?”

“Order it while I wash my face?”

“Deal.”

Everything sucked, sure, and there was still much left to figure out - but with Chris by your side, you realized that things could get better with an open mind and an open heart.

#stray kids angst #skz angst #bang chan x reader #bangchan x reader #bang chan angst #bangchan angst #bang chan fluff #bangchan fluff #tw mental health #mental health tw

[spectres-n-soap]

Times Long Since Past - Soap x You x Ghost

Content Warnings - Angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, therapy, pregnancy

A/N - Not gonna lie when I say I nearly cried writing this part.

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

The therapy office was located in a strip mall that had obviously once been a 1950s era housing estate in the past. You glance around the parking lot before Simon places a hand on your shoulder and pulls you from whatever pit you were trying to sink into. “Don’t stress.” He mutters and you roll your eyes.

“When in the history of the world did that ever make someone not stress?” You ask and he shakes his head but you can see his eyes crinkle just slightly. You sigh and look at the general area where the office was as your hand rests on your stomach. “Do you really think this will help?”

Simon nods, “It helps.” You sigh again before you nod and begin walking towards the office. A bell jingles over the door when you enter the office, Simon not far behind you and keeps the door open for you so it doesn’t bang into you. The receptionist smiles at you, a well practiced kind smile as she gestures for you to come forward. The waiting room was comfortable, only one other person sat in one of the chairs mindlessly flipping through the magazines. 

“Name?” The woman asks and you try not to let the happiness in her voice grate on your soul. Would you be happy like her again? You give her your name and she nods as she types it into the computer, “Date of birth?” You mindlessly rattle it off and give her the time of your appointment (in fifteen minutes) and she smiles at you, “Alright, if you could fill out these forms,” She passes the forms on a clipboard with a pen. “And take a seat. The doctor will be with you shortly.”

You waddle over to the nearest seat and sit down before you start to fill out the form. Its basic questions and you recognize them all from your psych evals in the military. You bite your cheek before you begin to fill them out truthfully. When you finish, you hand the clipboard back to the receptionist and sit back down. 

The therapist is nice. Clinically nice. You want to scream and rage as he calmly asks questions about what brought you here. His voice is perfectly level and you can’t even use it as an excuse for the reason you think he’s judging you. “It's not my job to judge, it's my job to help.” He says when you hesitate to answer.

“I lost someone very close to me.” You answer, picking over the words carefully because you and Johnny hadn’t put a label on it before he had died. Your stomach lurches at that sudden thought and you squeeze your hands into fists. 

“I see. Was this person the father of your child?” He asks and you nod tightly. The thought still leaves an awful taste in your mouth.

“He died in action.” You take in a shaky breath, “He didn’t even know.”

“Let's start there. If at any moment you feel uncomfortable we can stop this session.”

You leave not feeling better or worse but like a small weight had been lifted from your chest. As you walk back out into the waiting room with the therapist, talking about the date of your next appointment you see Simon. You freeze, having totally forgotten he had promised to wait for you the entire time. He inclines his head at you and you're brought crashing back into reality. 

You climb into his car and as he turns it on he offers to buy some lunch. “Got any cravings?”

“I’m pregnant. Of course I have cravings.” You grumble, “Mexican food. From this little hole in the wall place.” He hands you his phone, which is all kinds of busted up but the screen still works so he hasn’t replaced it yet, for you to type the address into.

You take a seat at one of the outside tables and a young man hands you both a small menu. The smell from inside the restaurant makes your stomach rumble and apparently the baby is into the smell too because they kick at your stomach. Hard.

You wince and bow your head a little as you hiss out a “ Fuck. ” You don’t see the way panic shoots through Simon but you feel his hand grab yours. You don’t pull away.

“Are you okay? Are you in pain?” He asks and you shake your head.

“The baby just decided to do some kickboxing, no big deal.” You let out a tight laugh that hardly seems to convince Simon. “Simon, I’ll tell you if it hurts okay? Promise.” Those words seem to put at ease and the arrival of your waiter draws attention from the way his ears turn pink.

Lunch is quiet between the two of you after that moment partially helped by the way you sort of shovel the food into your mouth. You can’t help the small moan that leaves you as you bite into enchilada and Simon coughs on the sweet soda he had been drinking.

You and Simon arrive back at your flat, takeout box in hand because your eyes were bigger than your stomach and you had ordered another enchilada and he places it in your fridge as you settle down onto the couch. Exhaustion pulls at you despite the good sleep you had gotten last night and you hardly notice when Simon places the throw blanket on your lap.

“You know… you still have some gifts to open.” Simon mutters and you look at him with bleary eyes and make a noise of confusion before you look at what he has in his hands. The gifts from the MacTavish family. Your stomach sinks and your throat closes up at the sight. You sniffle but reach for one of the soft green green eyes.

Inside the first one is a little soft green dinosaur onesie and a few baby books. One of the books has a couple of lullabies and nursery rhymes. The other is easy recipes to make during the first couple months with the baby. More onesies in the next one, soft blues, pinks and yellows, a teddy bear and a card with a heartfelt message from his sisters. Of course a few items such as a milk pump and a diaper bag are already filled to the brim with items.

Just as you think you’ve finished opening everything, Simon hands you a card and one more bag. “The cards from Mrs. MacTavish, the bag is from me.” He clarifies although he really didn’t need to. The bag was a soft gray. You open his gift first and genuinely laugh when it's a onesie with little skulls. You shake your head at his gift before you set it to the side. You carefully pull the card from the envelope it was in and open it. A couple pictures fall onto your lap but you read the message first.

My bairn was a lot of trouble during those first few months. I hope yours doesn’t come with the same mischief for the sake of both of you. I know there is nothing I can say to ease the pain or the hole that Johnny left in you but you’re not alone. You’ve been given a beautiful gift whether he knew it or not. You’ll always have a piece of my wee boy and you’ll always be welcome in my home. I’ve made a few copies of pictures of when Johnny was a wee bairn for you. Welcome to the MacTavish family.

You glance down at the pictures, tears in your eyes as you look through them. You couldn’t help the small laugh that left you at one of the pictures. Chubby baby Johnny pouting in his chosen outfit but the others make tears fall from your eyes. You rub your thumb over one of the photos of him smiling up at the camera, chubby hands holding his foot up.

#john soap mactavish #john soap mctavish x reader #john soap mctavish x you #soap #call of duty #cod #ghost x reader #mw3 spoilers #simon ghost riley #thyh #simon riley #simon ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x soap #ghost x soap x reader #ghost mw2 #ghost x you #ghost x y/n #soap x ghost #soap x y/n #soap x you #soap x reader

[ghastlytofu]

Wyllstarion thought that’s rattling around in my brain—Wyll’s so willing to give anything for others, even if it’s something he needs, something he can’t afford to lose. So in the long term, if he gets into a position where he trusts Astarion enough to let him feed, it’s entirely possible that he offers himself up even when he shouldn’t—when he’s been injured, when he’s too weak and doesn’t have enough blood to be giving any away.

And Astarion, who has experienced attentiveness to his unspoken needs for the first time in 200 years because of Wyll, notices and stops himself, even though it goes against every instinct he has, and tells Wyll to rest instead.

HE WOULD BE THAT GUY. I hope you don't mind - I wrote a thing based off your thing.

Wyll coughed suddenly, the motion pulling at his wounds under carefully-applied bandages, causing him to grimace both in pain and at the memory of its source. Hours ago now - had it been hours? It must've been hours, the sun had set - he'd taken his own rapier to the gut after a frankly embarrassing display of being disarmed by his opponent in the melee.

He was laid up in their makeshift medical tent now, hurt but healing, his injured ego a small price to pay for his life.

He'd gotten too used to fighting creatures with more teeth than brains, wasn't prepared in the moment for an opponent that could match his wits, not in this barren hellscape where everything was more monster than man.

Sloppy, he thinks, angrier at himself than his enemy (long dead now - few could survive a githyanki silver sword to the skull, and gods if he wasn't grateful for that). He could hardly afford to be careless now, not with so many depending on him.

He vows to pull Lae'zel aside when he's back on his feet, ask her to spar, to encourage more drills and bouts of one-on-one sparring amongst their group in general. The better to brush up on his skills and endurance and test the limits of his companions' own.

They could use the practice, and not just because they'd had their asses summarily handed to them today.

Astarion was wan and bleary-eyed next to him, looking less ethereal in the moonlight than sickly, every bit the walking corpse he was in actuality. His features were drawn tight with exhaustion and pain - nursing several broken ribs, his left side mottled purple with angry bruises from a glancing hammer-blow that had his body ragdolling across the battlefield. It might've been comical if they hadn't narrowly escaped with their lives.

The vampire spawn was plainly exhausted and - and there was hunger there, too, his eyes a little wild with the sharp aroma of blood permeating the med tent, cutting through the noxious scent of sweat and stale air, the suffusive atmosphere of worry that hadn't much abated.

Shadowheart had spent herself patching them all back together and was finally resting, the candle in her tent snuffed out with a tired sigh. The camp was quiet except for Wyll's slightly ragged breathing, the muffled sounds of Karlach snoring into her pillow. Somewhere in the distance or the depths of his psyche, he heard the rushing of a river.

He wasn't feeling his best self. But he wasn't feeling his worst self either. A day of moderate hiking followed by getting his shit wrecked by marauders had him losing precious pints that Shadowheart had tried her damndest to get back in him, to some avail. The pain was tolerable. There were stitches in his side from where the blade had pierced his abdomen - Astarion's work. The lad was surprisingly deft with a needle, and hardly prone to fainting at the sight of blood.

Astarion, who hadn't yet left his side. Wyll wondered distantly if the scent of blood in the air was more a balm or tease for him - did it soothe, the way the scent-memory of the market in the lower city soothed Wyll? Cinnamon apple pie and brioche bread fresh from the ovens, the air suffused with saffron and cloves, spices of every sort peddled by merchants from Neverwinter to Chult. Or was it torturous, to be so near an ambrosia you could only half experience, to merely smell what you were forbidden to taste?

He wondered, but now was hardly the time to grill Astarion on the intricacies of his vampiric hunger. Still, he wasn't looking well. Apart from the extensive bruises and the shattered ribs that lie beneath them, his skin was waxy and clammy like a mortal with a cold sweat, eyes sunken deep in their sockets. Shadowheart could only perform so many miracles a day.

Feeding would hasten his healing. And Wyll wasn't feeling the worst he'd ever felt.

Fancy a nightcap? he thought, didn't realize he'd spoken aloud until Astarion stiffened beside him, subtle as the sun. A moment passed, the other man took a deep breath - necessary only insofar as it seemed to fortify him, his atrophied lungs didn't ache for air, did they? -

An unidentifiable look passed over his tired features before he schooled them into something more imperious, raising a dubious eyebrow. A cool hand landed on Wyll's arm, rubbing soothing circles in his bicep.

"You smell about as appetizing as bilge water, darling," he sniffed delicately, attempting haughty but finding that it didn't quite land. "I'd rather partake of fresh food, if it's all the same to you." He wouldn't meet Wyll's eye, and Wyll couldn't bring himself to comment on the tremor in hands or how very large his pupils looked in the lamplight.

Nor did he seem inclined to leave Wyll's side, and Wyll found that he couldn't bring himself to comment on that either. He chuckled tiredly instead, eyes falling shut, blessedly dark and drifting on the effects of a potent healing potion.

"Another time, then," he assented, mumbling through his exhaustion, "when I'm less rank and more appetizing."

He felt more than heard Astarion's answering laugh - curiously wet, but the threads of conscious thought were tenuous now and the observation escaped him as soon as it was noted, as the Blade of Frontiers drifted at last into a dreamless sleep.

#seized me by the brain anon. i'm weak. WEEEAAAK #wyllstarion #baldur's gate 3 #fic #my fic #it's whump it's just whump #asks #anon #wyll ravengard #astarion ancunin

[roguelov]

just imagine dream, the prince of stories, falling for a mortal who studies stories. Not a story teller, but an academic who researches how a story millennia ago has changed to the modern day. Example: the story fo Eros and psyche became Beuty and the beast, and then, in the modern day, the fae smut books!!! Or anything to do with Joseph Campbell’s hero’s journey. Just… dream watching as this mortal is basically his oracle, and he can’t stop looking at them with heart eyes and soft gazes.

Ugggggggggh my poor heart it’s like a match made in Heaven

Your eyes fluttered open. A giddy smile crossed your lips as you were greeted with a sight only known in your dreams: a library. Yet, no ordinary library, it was a library filled with stories and dreams beyond any knowledge in your world. It was a library you constantly, and happily, got lost in. A library you would never grow tire of. A library which only continued to spark your passion: the evolution of stories.

“Welcome back.”

The deep rich voice seemed to thrum inside your chest. Spinning around, you were greeted with said owner of such a magical library.

“Lord Morpheus,” you smiled as he approached.

His eyes twinkled with a smile. “(Y/N).”

My dear oracle.

He nodded into the direction behind you. “Your things are how you left them, I ensured Lucienne she needn’t clean it up.”

“Thank you.”

You peered over your shoulder to see a long table with one end filled with stacks of books and papers, a truly chaotic cluster yet you knew the organization. When you turned back, Morpheus’s enchanting blue eyes - one which poets would write endless sonnets about - locked with yours.

“And may I ask what has caught your attention this time?” Morpheus asked, stepping a bit closer.

“Recently, with the rise of … certain fae stories, I’ve been seeing how the story of Eros and Psyche has evolved. Because from there is also the Beauty and the Beast from the French novel to the Disney animation and all the various movie adaptations and -“

A smile twitched on his lips. He could listen for hours as you rattled on about stories and their variations, and he has. He eagerly listened to you. And with each visit, and with each conversation, piece by piece, the King of Dreams and Prince of Stories fell for the mortal with a passion for stories - for his works. Or, partial his work, he was more of a gentle guide to those with these stories trapped in their minds.

“- oh, I’m sorry I’m rambling again,” you laughed nervously.

“Nonsense, I have told you time and time again I adore our conversations.”

You glanced away bashfully.

“Now, do not let me keep you from your work. And please if you need anything, ask. I will do all that I can to help.”

Whatever you may need, my little oracle, I will ensure it will happen.

“Thank you.” Your eyes flickered back up with that wondrous smile Morpheus had come to love.

“Just perhaps do not work so hard,” he reached out, running his knuckle over your cheek, “rest is still important.”

Your cheeks warmed at the gentle gesture. “I know.”

His hand dropped, and your heart secretly craved to feel its warmth again. “Good, then I will check back in on you in a few hours if that’s okay.”

You smiled, melting the ancient being’s heart. “I look forward to it.”

#the sandman #morpheus #dream of the endless #morpheus x reader #dream of the endless x reader #x reader #anon #ask

[angryschnauzer]

By The Waning Crescent Moon

Summary: As an Omega you know you need to get home before your Heat starts, but when your car breaks down in the woods you need to seek refuge somewhere safe... surely a Convent will be the best place? Little do you know the nuns have long since left, only to be replaced by the worst possible thing; a pack of Werewolves. Even worse, its a full moon. Fandom: Henry Cavill, Sand Castle - Movie.

Wordcount: 4949

Pairing: Alpha Werewolf Syverson x Omega Female reader (no race or body type specified)

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Smut, Oral Sex (Female Receiving), Unprotected Sex, Desecration of Religious artefacts, Knotting, Werewolf Sex, Monsterfucking, Unplanned Pregnancy, ABO Dynamics

I do not run a tag list, instead please follow @angryschnauzerwrites​ and put that blog onto notifications, you’ll then get an alert each time i post something new. My AO3 also has my entire back catalogue of stories (going back to 2013).

Henry Cavill Masterlist

A/N: This story has been stuck in WIP hell for a couple of months, i originally got psyched to write an entire werewolf gangbang, but then all the bullshit in the USA happened and yeah, forced pregnancy wasn’t at the forefront of everyone’s to do list, even in fanfic. Furthermore the wolf gang was originally going to be a biker gang, but another amazing writer @sillyrabbit81​ has since launched a truly amazing biker gang reverse harem fic, i decided to shelve that idea and instead sit on the original thought of werewolves for a while. I then had inspiration to make this a Syverson story, so here we go. The Were sex scene is heavily inspired by the graveyard scene between Lucy and Dracula in Bram Stokers Dracula movie, which in my opinion is one of the greatest creature feature/monsterfucking movies in the history of cinema.

By the Waning Crescent Moon

You waited at the stop light, the remote intersection of two highways high up in the hills of logging country. It was dusk, yet the sky was hidden behind obsidian clouds, heavy rain systems waiting to release their downpours in sporadic outbursts. Despite the cold rain dulling the summer evening, you were burning up. You’d stopped at the last gas station and had stocked up on a huge slush drink and a popsicle, but neither had done anything to quell the growing warmth within your body. Sat in your flimsy sundress you were at least grateful that in a moment of optimism that morning you’d dressed for good weather, even if you’d spent the day wrapped in the cardigan you’d found on the back seat. However now as you felt a droplet of sweat make its way down your neck and cleavage, you cursed and opened the window, grateful for the cool damp air against your skin.

The red light finally changed and you muttered under your breath to yourself as you pushed your old Nissan into gear;

“C’mon, lets get home” you said to no-one except yourself.

The highway grew narrow as it entered the woods, just a single lane in each direction, tall cedar trees closing in on both sides. The rain wasn’t as heavy beneath the thick canopy above you, instead there were wisps of mist clinging to the roadway’s edge. 

As you continued along you felt the first pang of pain in your stomach, a cramp that grew with intensity like an old lightbulb trying to illuminate but suddenly extinguishing.

“Oh fuck…” you cursed, resting your hand on your stomach as you rubbed to ease the ache. You drove on cautiously, ignoring the rattle that was emanating from the engine, your mind elsewhere. You had only finished your last period a little over a week ago so it wasn’t that. You could feel another cramp starting to build, your concentration far from the road. That was more than likely the reason you didn’t notice the pothole, the car shook and the suspension made a deafening thunk as you hit the flooded crater without pause. With a scream you pulled your full attention back to the road, ignoring the cramp pulling at your gut as you struggled to keep the car on the road, slowing gradually until you were able to pause. The sudden understanding hit your mind as the realisation of what was happening registered. You scrambled for your phone, opening the calendar and scrolling back to the cold winter months. 

A cold chill ran down your back like icy fingers against your spine. Six months. Almost to the day. Six months since your last heat.

“Shit fuck FUCK” you shouted at the rain splattered windows. How could you have missed it? As another cramp hit your stomach you curled over and rested your head against the steering wheel, at which moment your phone chimed. Peering out of one eye you looked at the screen and the reminder that had just popped up;

*Heat starting soon!!!*

“Yes, THANK YOU. 24 hours too late”

As an unmated Omega you set yourself reminders for when your heat was due, coming every six months you generally made arrangements to work from home, and ensure you loaded your purse with suppressants and painkillers so to deal with the build up. It would seem this time however you hadn’t set the reminder early enough, as you had neither medication with you, but would also explain the hot sweats and the reason you’d woken up that morning tangled in the sheets after dreaming of faceless intimacy. 

With a sigh you wiped the sweat from your forehead with the back of your hand, before peering out of the windshield at the dark and twisting road. Engaging first gear you set off but were immediately reminded that something terminal had happened when you’d hit the hole in the asphalt, your car now leaning on the kerbside. For a moment you considered calling for a tow truck, but then the rapidly failing rational side of your brain reminded you that the truck would likely be driven by a man, and the last thing you needed when you were about to come into heat was to risk being stuck with an Alpha you didn’t know. No, you needed to try and limp your car home, at least close enough to town that you could call your roommate to come help, she’d know exactly what to do.  You made it a good couple of miles at a slow pace, the road straight and gently downhill, until a hairpin bend meant you had to sharply turn the wheel. Something loudly went ‘twang’ like a spring being violently recoiled. It was quickly followed by the sound of hissing air, and the car dropped even further on the kerbside. The tell-tale thud-thud-thud of a flat tyre could be heard as you freewheeled to the side of the road, before coming to a stop on the gravel side of the highway.

You took a deep breath and let out a scream, yelling at the windshield, before your stomach cramps hit back again. They were getting closer together and you knew you needed help. Checking your phone hopefully you were still disappointed when you saw that there was still no service, more than likely due to a combination of location and the bad weather. With a sigh you stared out of the windshield and you noticed a sign on a wall;

“The Sisters of St Augustus’ Refuge” you paused, the synapses in your brain firing and finally connecting; “A CONVENT! That’s just women!”

Climbing out of your car you grabbed your purse and cardigan, holding the latter over your head in a vain attempt to keep the worst of the rain off as you started to trot up the long driveway towards the building that loomed on the horizon. You failed to notice the other sign that lay on the ground, one put up by the real estate company handling the sale of the building but has since fallen.

The driveway was considerably longer than you anticipated, and by the time you were halfway your pace had slowed, your cramps now even worse. The large wooden doors of the convent came into view as you staggered closer, the rain and sweat mixing and running into your eyes, blurring your vision. You stumbled, your no longer white Converses catching on a pebble, righting yourself before you fell flat on your face. Another two steps and another pebble, you were falling when suddenly a pair of arms caught you, the dark robes fluttering in the storm as you blacked out.

-

Sy sat back in his chair, his boots resting on the large table as he picked at his nails with one long claw, being able to control the change to his advantage. Walter was pacing the room, pausing to glare at the clock on the wall before returning to pacing. Sy let out a small sigh, the entire pack was antsy, anxious and ready for the turn of the full moon, however this summer storm obscuring its silver rays was turning the pack into an angry mess. August had wisely disappeared into the depths of the building and Sy was thankful for that, he and Walter would always argue over the smallest thing. Sy also glanced at the clock, his stomach growling;

“Where is Mikey with that takeout?” he muttered to himself.

A sudden increase in background noise caused both Sy and Walter to pause and look up, their nostrils flaring. August entered the room from the door that led to the private quarters, just as the large double doors to the chapel opened. The two youngest members of the pack came bustling in, Will holding the doors open as Mikey staggered along, his long black duster raincoat still dripping with rain, a now soaked bag of takeout hanging from one hand, but what caught everyone’s attention was what else he was carrying; a young woman.

The room fell into an eerie silence as Mikey stood still, waiting to gauge the reaction from the rest of the pack;

“I…I found… she passed out on the doorstep…”

There was a pause before everyone sprang into life, the men helping Mikey carry the unconscious woman in, Walter lifting her and setting her down onto the makeshift workbench they’d commandeered when they’d moved into the old building. 

Sy’s eyes widened before he cursed;

“Fuck…” he dragged his hand over his face before clearing his throat; “Aug, Walt, gotta talk. Will and Mike, make sure she’s ok”

August simply raised his left eyebrow before following, Walter trudging closely behind as Sy pushed the door partially closed behind them;

“Shit, this is the last thing we need, especially tonight…”

Walter nodded;

“I agree, whatever she’s doing here, we need to get her out of here before the storm passes”

August stood in the corner of the room, his silence eventually what drew the others attention;

“August, you’ve been uncharacteristically quiet on this” Sy questioned

“Maybe she’s not an Omega?” he simply shrugged; “Could just be lost or her car broken down”

“Then why is she unconscious and reek of heat scent?…” he paused… “And why…”

Sy fell silent, all three elder members of the pack’s attention rising to the tall stained glass windows, the pale light from the full moon spilling into the dark room as the clouds started to part. A simultaneous chorus of ‘fuck’ sounded around the room, before they started to change, the moonlight triggering the lupine curse within them. 

They grew broader, their shoulders filling out their shirts. Jaws clenched as canine teeth elongated. The flick of fire in their eyes started to burn as the silvery rays of moonlight spread throughout the room. At first they didn’t notice the wisp of orangey vapour that curled through the small gap in the door, but as it moved around the room like a lost serpent August was the first to notice;

“What the hell is that?”

Sy and Walter followed his gaze before noticing more tendrils of the vapour, watching as it sparkled gold and copper in the moonlight. Sy gritted his teeth and pushed back the urge to fully transform, the skill he’d accomplished once he became the full Alpha leader of the pack;

“Stay here” he all but growled, stalking towards the mist and out into the hall, the sight before him stopping him in his tracks.

The young woman was awake, but was clinging to Will as she nuzzled against his neck. One of her hands curled through Mikey’s hair, pulling him to the other side of her neck. Wisps of orange vapour curled around them, seemingly emanating from her.

“BOYS!” Sy barked, both younger men trying to turn to the pack elder, but looked punch drunk.

“Uncle Sy…” Mikey muttered; “She’s… there’s something…”

Sy crossed the room lightning fast, pulling both younger men from her grasp before pushing them into a ray of moonlight as it spilt in through a side window, knowing that although the moon would turn them, it would also clear whatever was happening due to the vapour from their minds. August and Walter helped the two boys up, both elders now having almost completed their transformations, the younger turning as they stood. Sy gritted his teeth again and pushed back the urge to transform, knowing four, five full Were’s would destroy this young woman, and that someone needed to find out what the hell was happening;

“August, Walter, take Will and Mikey, go run, go hunt, anything, get all of you out of here”

The other’s paused, seemingly torn between the draw of the full moon and the pull of the young woman, but as Sy turned and growled, his eyes flashing golden they finally retreated. 

Sy listened, his acute hearing picking up four sets of padded feet running across the gravel driveway and into the woods, before he turned to her;

“What the hell am i going to do with you?”

-

You sat on the hard surface, the blanket beneath you doing little to pad out the cold stone underneath as you watched the hulk of a man approach. You could immediately tell he was an Alpha, strong and virile, he was extremely broad with thick arms and thighs, he seemed to be 250lbs of solid muscle. Beneath the scowl on his face you could see stormy blue eyes that sometimes had a flash of gold in them, and hints of red in his thick beard. Your entire body was sweating, desperate for the touch of an Alpha. The two young Alpha’s you hadn’t been able to control yourself from scenting with had done a little to sate the heat hunger burning within you, but as this beast approached you your body burned for him.

Reaching for him your body immediately calmed the moment your hands grasped at his muscled forearms, breathing in his scent as he looked you over. When he spoke his voice was deep but soft;

“Miss, i gotta ask, but what are you?”

“Just an Omega… and i fucked up, my heat started…”

“Then why’d you come in here?”

“It said it was a convent… Nuns are women… i woulda been safe here…”

The man let out a long sigh;

“Oh honey… this wasn’t a convent of Nuns… it was a refuge for Moon Makers” he looked you up and down; “They shouldn’t have put ya on the altar…”

You were confused, you had heard the term Moon Maker before but it was so long ago you couldn’t recall exactly where. It was as if it had been a whisper you’d eavesdropped as a child, of something mothers and aunts had gossiped about with a sense of sordid envy. 

Before you could dwell on that thought the storm outside blew wild, the crack of a tree could be heard and as it fell to the ground it let in a stream of moonlight right to where you lay. Bathed in the silver light the tendrils of orange mist started to swirl with vigour, and the Alpha before you let out a groan;

“Sugar, i gotta see the mark…”

He pushed you back as he stood between your legs, his large hands on your thighs as they crept beneath your short summer dress, pushing it up until your panties were visible and the fabric of your dress was bunched around your waist. His nostrils flared as he picked up your scent, the dark patch of wetness between your legs drawing him like a moth to the flame, but instead he hooked his thumb over the waistband of your underwear and tugged them down just a little until he saw your birthmark on your hip.

“The waning crescent…” he muttered

“What’s… huh? Moon Makers… Waning Crescent… I don’t understand” you were struggling to concentrate through the heat cramps, pulling the Alpha closer to you as you’d wrapped your legs around his thighs.

“Moon Makers are a special kind of Omega… the only one’s strong enough to bear the pups of a Were… the waning crescent is the shape of the birthmark they carry… shaped that way as if you breed on a full moon you’ll know if you’re carrying the pups by the time of the next waning crescent… It’s old lore, there hasn’t been a sighting of a Moon Maker for, well, almost twenty five years…”

You pulled him close, not even knowing this beast’s name, but were drawn to him. You hooked your nose beneath his chin, his soft beard rubbing against your face and you could feel him shake with restraint;

“You’re testing big Sy to the limits Sugar…”

“Sy…” you muttered, his name like a syrup on your tongue; “Sy… i’m still an Omega, and i need your help. This heat isn’t going away… i need you, as an Alpha”

Nodding, Sy cradled the back of your head. He knew what he needed to do. He just needed to get you through your heat, long enough to get you back to your home. He also had a secret, one that he’d brushed over many times when his brothers had joked about it, but an injury when he’d been in the army had meant he could no longer sire any pups with an Omega. It was something he and only he knew about, not even confessing this to Walter or August, and it had been safe in that knowledge that he’d been able to concentrate on leading the pack, without the distraction of offspring. Countless Omega’s had warmed his bed, but he’d insisted it was never the right time, not on a full moon, not the right point in their heat. Right now though, he needed to fight off his hind-brain, the part of him that wanted the Were to take over. He didn’t even consider things would be different with a Moon Maker.

He pressed his face to your neck, inhaling deeply against your scent gland, the soft dip in your clavicle, and let your scent wash over him. You were grinding against him, the slick in your panties dousing the front of his old combat pants, the thick cotton straining against his growing erection. His lips brushed against your neck as he spoke;

“Will you let me taste you? Get you ready with my tongue? Sugar… Omega, you want me to eat that pussy?”

“Sy… Alpha, please… I need it. I need you”

You were desperate; desperate for relief, desperate for pleasure. You watched as his massive hands curled around your panties as he gripped the thin cotton before with a low growl he tore the thin fabric to shreds. Licking his lips he fell to his knees between your legs, his face between your thighs as his tongue found heaven. That long thick tongue dove through your folds, lapping at your slick as he eagerly tasted your essence. Your hands fell to his head, the short buzz cut soft beneath your fingertips, but without anything to grip onto you felt lost, unable to anchor yourself. As if sensing your need Sy lifted one hand to yours, curling his fingers between your own as his piercing blue eyes never left yours, all whilst his tongue delved deep into your velvet channel. The more you cried out and wriggled the quicker he fucked you with his tongue, bringing you closer and closer to pleasure before with a final wide swipe of his tongue you came with a scream, calling out to the stars above as white hot pleasure coursed through your body and lifted your soul. Sy eagerly drank down your slick as it gushed from your channel, growling at the taste on his tongue before you finally fell back limp on the altar. 

He pressed a kiss to each of your inner thighs before he moved to stand, and you watched as he pulled his t-shirt over his head and tossed it aside, before unbuckling his pants and let them drop to the floor. Toeing off his boots he was standing naked before you, his cock hard and rigid, thick and uncut, the knot at the base already starting to swell. You had been with an Alpha before but never one as big as Sy was, he was almost grotesquely huge, his girth as eye watering as the length. It was an angry red, his skin flushed and he was already dripping with need;

“Omega, I need you as much as you need me, you gonna let me fill that pussy?”

You nodded, and as Sy stepped forwards you saw there was hesitation in his step;

“Sy… what is it?”

“You ever been with a Were Alpha before?”

“A Were?” you shook your head; “But i want to. I need you Sy…”

“Not sure how much longer i can hold back the change, gonna have to be quick”

“I don’t want it to be quick, i want you… all of you”

What you were agreeing to was unheard of usually, very few had ever been with a full Were, let alone a Were Alpha, you knew the pheromones could drive an Omega crazy; “Do what you need to do Alpha”

With a growl Sy pushed you back, his body covering your own as his hands grasped your wrists;

“Hold still Sugar… need to tie you down so you don’t go flying off the altar”

“Altar?! Tie me down?!”

Sy paused, his face inches from your own;

“Say so now and i’ll stop, otherwise you’ll get as you asked and i will ‘do as i need’”

Swallowing nervously you nodded, wide eyed as you watched him pull ceremonial silk ropes from two corners of the altar beneath the blanket, tying your wrists in place. You could see his fight against the change was already starting to wane, his eyes burning like fire as his elongated fingers ran down your torso before grasping at your hips. He knelt between your parted thighs, pulling you up his thighs until his tip was poised at your entrance, dousing the bulbous head with your copious slick. With a growl he pushed forwards, stretching your tight walls as he slowly filled you. The pressure in your belly was intense, a white hot heat surging through your body as your mouth fell open in a silent scream. With your back arched you struggled to let your body adjust to his size, but then you felt the rough brush of the blunt tip of a claw circle your clit, carefully teasing the sensitive pearl from beneath its hood. As the moonlight poured down over your joined bodies you felt Sy start to change, of the Were taking over.

You moved your hips, realising you were now completely stuffed with his thick cock and eager for more, opening your eyes you let out a gasp, he had changed fully. Covered in a thick layer of auburn brown fur, his body was that of a Greek mythical beast. Though his features had changed, you could still see the same eyes that had burned for you just moments before. Shoulders as wide as the altar you were being defiled upon, which continued into enormous arms, thick with muscle as massive hands gripped at your hips as he started to thrust into you. You could both watch as he filled you before pulling out and repeating, his angry red shaft glistening in the moonlight with your slick before he’d plunge deep into you again and again. Each thrust stretched you so well you knew you’d be ruined for any other man, Alpha or not. 

The pleasure coursed through your body, coming with a sudden force but the Were between your thighs just fucked you straight through it, now Moon drunk and high on the literal cloud of your scent surrounding the pair of you as you were carnally joined. With his biceps and forearms bulging the beast pulled you onto his thickening shaft repeatedly, his body arched as you were stretched on your tethers, legs bent at his thighs as you felt another orgasm chasing after the last. As your body squeezed him tight he let out a mighty roar, howling at the moon as you all but pushed yourself further onto him, your fragile body a plaything for his pleasure. Through the haze of lust and sin you felt the pad of his thumb move from your hip to brush over your birthmark, your gaze immediately drawn to his fiery eyes and you realised what would happen;

“Alpha, give me your knot, i’m ready”

With a growl the Were fucked into your plyable body harder and harder, pulling you to one final orgasm, and as that crested you felt the push and plug as he filled you, his seed pumping into you as his knot plugged you tight. Your scream echoed around the ancient chapel, and the world turned black.

-

A loud knocking at the door pulled Tina from her bed, glaring at the apartment as she strode through it, ready to give whoever dared disturb her at this ungodly hour of the morning a piece of her mind, but as she violently opened the door she was stopped in her tracks. In the morning light a hulk of a man stood on the doormat with you - her roommate - sleeping peacefully in his arms;

“Hey… I got her address from her driving licence”

Tina immediately scooped you into her arms, carrying you to the couch;

“Where has she been? Who are you?”

“Syverson… Her car broke down outside our place in the hills. She stayed out the storm with us but was up all night, she’s completely exhausted now”

Tina checked over your pulse and it was calm and steady, pulling at your eyelids which caused you to grumble and bat away her hands before you went back to snoring on the soft couch. Turning back to the giant Alpha currently standing in your doorway she held out her hand, to which Sy gently took it, surprised at how firm her handshake was;

“One of my brothers will bring her car back in the next couple of days if that’s alright? Got a lot on for the next two days”

“Yeah, that’s fine, but if i can take your number so i can check in, i know she drives a heap of crap but it’s still hers”

“Absolutely”

Tina watched as the enormous mountain of man carefully bent down and in neat cursive writing wrote his name and number onto the small notepad on the hallway console table, before ripping it off and handing it to her.

“I’ll… i’ll be going now”

Tina narrowed her gaze;

“You… you didn’t do anything to her, did you?”

Sy turned and met Tina’s glare;

“She spent the night” he turned and paused; “You might want to check her calendar, mentioned her heat is due soon” he let out a sigh before turning back to the doorstep; “Anyway, gotta go, the moon waits for no man…”

Tina watched him go, toying with the piece of paper as his truck pulled away, before she stashed it in her wallet.

-

A couple of weeks later you were irritable and snapping at anyone that crossed your path. The only thing that had gone right was your car had been returned to your apartment three days after your night in the hills, the suspension fixed, the engine running beautifully. It was like it’d had a complete overhaul by an entire team of mechanics. You weren’t going to question it as it was the one stable thing now in your life. The young guy that had dropped it off had practically thrown your keys into your hands, before sprinting off and climbing into a truck driven by someone that looked so similar he could have been a brother. You vaguely recognised them, but your only clear lingering memory of your time in the hills was Sy. You weren’t even sure how to even find him again, having taken drives through the forest a number of times but never able to find that same route again. 

That night you were hungry, pulling a pint of your favourite ice cream from the deep freeze. You stepped outside into the warm summer night to eat it on the pallet wood seating Tina had built on the porch outside your apartment, watching the fireflies float into the air. After a while she joined you, a beer in her hand as she sat down silently. She was your best friend and had helped you through so much, but she’d been very quiet for the past couple of weeks, almost avoiding you.

“Hey Tiny” you used her nickname, one she’d very much grown out of after 5th grade when she’d grown a foot taller than you in the space of the summer break; “Everything ok?”

“Yeah yeah, i’m good… how are you doing? You’ve been… different recently”

You stabbed at the ice cream before setting it aside;

“Haven’t felt that great to be honest. Not sure what’s up, thought my heat was coming a few weeks ago but it seemed to end abruptly after i got back from…”

“Gotcha”

Tina looked up at the sky and you followed her gaze, seeing the thin crescent of the moon;

“Looks kinda like your birthmark, the waning moon…”

She didn’t finish what she was saying as you’d suddenly bolted to the bathroom, your retching clearly audible. With a sigh she rested her elbows on her knees… fuck, what the hell had you gotten yourself into? She’d been able to tell that Syverson was a Were the second she’d opened the door, counting the days back on her fingers she finally realised that you’d been with him the first night of the full moon, when its at its most powerful, and how your heat hadn’t appeared, yet she’d been able to pick up your bonding scent as you’d slept on the couch. 

“What have you gotten yourself into?” she muttered to herself, the piece of paper in her wallet almost burning a hole in her pocket. She had sworn to your mother that she’d protect you, that she wouldn’t let you continue the Were bloodlines… but she’d failed. Now she had a decision to make… but first she’d go help you throw up, no doubt there would be another eight months of it to follow, the child within you already growing. 

Pulling the paper out she held it between her fingertips as she stood, heading towards the bathroom where you were, you had a phone call make.

#syverson x you #captain sy x reader #werewolf sy #alpha sy #henry cavill #henry cavill smut #captain syverson smut #Alpha sy x omega reader

[suddenlybambi]

bracelet ♥ kenny mccormick

pairing : kenny mccormick x gn!reader

tags : this is just pure fluff

word count : 1.1k

The park was busy. It was a hot day, and the parents had sent all of the kids outside to play while they relaxed in the nice weather. It was a rarity in South Park, so they intended to make the most of it.

“I like your bracelets,” Kenny had psyched himself up for ten minutes to talk to the kid he didn’t recognise as they sat on the grass making daisy chains. They hadn’t spoken to anyone, but they had a positive energy to them that could be spotted from a mile away as they happily threaded the flowers together. Their arm was decorated with about 10 different beaded bracelets that rattled as they moved.

“Really?” They looked up with a smile that made Kenny’s heart race a little faster. “Thank you! Which one is your favourite?”

“The orange one,” He answered quickly, not having to look at them again up close. He had seen them as he watched from a distance, and that was the one that caught his eye the most. The beads were brightly coloured with different shades of orange. They reminded him of the sunset. He was always happy whenever he got to live long enough throughout the day to see the sunset.

“Come here,” They gestured for him to get closer to them, holding out their bracelet-covered arm. “Hold my hand real quick.”

“What?” Kenny froze at the words, his heart suddenly beating even faster. “Why?”

“Just trust me!” He did so without any further need for an explanation, holding his hand out as they took it carefully. He watched as they slid the bracelet from their arm to his.

“Now it’s yours!” They smiled at him, letting go of his hand after a second. He missed the feeling instantly but couldn’t stop staring at his newly acquired accessory. “A reminder of this day, of this park, of me.” They laughed softly, and he could have sworn it was the best thing he had ever heard. Their laughter echoed through his head like it was the sweetest love song in the world. At the time, he didn’t really understand that feeling.

Ten years later, he did. The bracelet had lost a lot of its colouring over the years. The oranges had faded, and some had even lost their colour altogether, now just dull cream beads. But he still wore it every day.

He never even caught their name. They spent two hours together one afternoon in the park at 8 years old, but he was still caught up remembering them whenever he looked down at his wrist. They left their mark, and they probably didn’t even know.

Kenny fiddled with the bracelet nervously as he sat in the café before his scheduled interview for the scholarship he had spent his entire high school career hoping to get. He didn’t know what he would do without it since there was no way he could afford to go to college without it. His whole future depended on the scholarship.

“Your coffee and a brownie,” The barista placed the cup of coffee Kenny had ordered on the table in front of him, along with a plate. He looked at it in confusion.

“I think you might have confused my order for someone else’s?” He checked the coffee. It appeared to be exactly what he had ordered. “I didn’t order a brownie.”

“You seem stressed, and I’m a firm believer that brownies can fix anything,” The barista explained as Kenny looked up at their face. There was something familiar yet comforting about them. They gave him a quick wink. “Don’t worry. It’s on the house, just don’t tell my boss.”

“Thank you,” He sighed in relief at the kind gesture, one of the first he’d had in a while. “Seriously, thanks.”

“No worries,” They grinned, looking down at his arm. “Nice bracelet.”

“Thanks, I like to think it’s a good luck charm,” His fingers traced over it again. The barista laughed lightly, and Kenny’s eyes widened. That laugh had matured over the decade since he had last heard it, but he knew it. It was ingrained into him.

“I’m surprised it lasted so long,” They pulled their sleeve up to show two bracelets, both looking in as faded of a state as the one on his wrist. “The others all broke.” Kenny wasn’t thinking straight when he grabbed for their hand so he could look closely at the bracelets they wore. They let him with no complaints, just a smile on their face.

“It’s actually you,” He whispered as though he were trying to convince himself to believe it by saying it out loud. “I can’t… I…” He was at a complete loss for words. He had imagined this day multiple times, the day when he would finally meet them again. Everything he had planned out in his dreams was gone. His mind was empty as he tried to comprehend that it was actually happening.

“I’m going to get fired if I keep standing here holding hands with a customer, so…” They laughed again, gently pulling their hand away and pulling their phone out of their apron pocket and placing it on the table in front of him. “Quick, add your number before we get caught.”

Kenny didn’t have to be told twice as he quickly added himself as a contact on their phone. He passed it back and watched as they typed something out quickly, and his own phone buzzed in his pocket.

“There, now you have my number,” They grinned and slipped their phone back into their apron. “Enjoy your brownie and let me know how whatever you’re stressed about goes.”

The day the bracelet finally broke, Kenny cried. His comfort came in the form of the arms of the person who had given it to him all those years ago. They held him as his tears streamed down his face, soothing him and insisting that it was okay. They would fix it.

A week later, they returned to their shared home with a small box. “You know how I was going to fix your bracelet?” They asked, holding the box nervously.

“Yeah?” Kenny smiled a little, tilting his head in curiosity. “Did you manage to-”

“Yes and no,” They took a deep breath. Before Kenny could fully process the situation, the love of his life dropped down to one knee, opening the box. “There were only a few beads in good enough condition to- I guess what I’m trying to say is-” They stuttered through their words as Kenny stepped towards them, eyes wide as he looked at the ring the little box held. In place of any diamonds were a few of the beads from the bracelet.

“Yes,” He answered quickly. They laughed. It was the same laugh that had caused him to fall in love with them twice over already.

“I haven’t even asked the question yet!” Their eyes shone with happy tears that threatened to fall at the slightest movement. “Kenny McCormick, will you marry me?”

“Yes.”

#south park fanfiction #south park fic #kenny mccormick x reader #kenny mccormick #kenny mccormick fic #sp kenny #south park kenny

[vodika-vibes]

Magic and Knights AU

The Sphinx's Riddle

Summary: You are a sphinx, a member of a desert dwelling people who guard the temple to the Goddess. At least, that's what you're supposed to do. There have been no heroes to visit the Goddess in centuries, and you, a Sphinx who is just a little too good at seeing through illusions, learn the sickening truth about the Patron who your people have served for generations...and now you're his prisoner, deep within the temple.

Pairing: Pre-Fixer x F!Reader

Word Count: 7447

Warnings: The Patron is described as a half rotting corpse. Reader is an anxious mess

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: Wow, this took forever for me to finish, but I also wrote, like, 30 some odd pages since 5 pm yesterday, so I guess I just needed inspiration, lol.

You sniffle and curl your arms around your legs. It’s cold, so very cold. You must be deep beneath the temple for it to be so cold. You tug the thin blanket your mother gave you tighter over your shoulders, and it does almost nothing to ward off the cold. 

You don’t understand how this happened. 

A chain rattles down the hall, and you wince and bury your face into your arms. You hear the chains rattle down the hall and feel, more than see, someone peering into your cell.

“Are you ready to beg for forgiveness, child?” A voice, soft and silky and smooth, slithers through the room and you clamp your hands over your ears on the top of your head, and you can feel your tail twitching with anxiety under your blanket. You don’t want to hear this. Don’t want to hear him. But his voice cuts like a hot knife through butter, “Not yet ready to beg for my mercy, child?”

The cell door creaks open, and you tremble when you feel a hand, cold and almost skeletal, run through your cropped hair.

“Have I not treated you and the rest of your people well?” Your hands tighten over your ears, pressing them flat against the top of your head, “Have you not thrived while under my watchful eye? Have I not gifted you all with great beauty and great intelligence? And I all ask in return is your undying fealty…and you deny me that one small thing?”

The hand fists in your hair and jerks your head up and back, and you squeeze your eyes shut, to avoid looking into the flaming eyes of the man your people have served for thousands of years. 

Though there’s no hiding from the stench of rotting flesh.

“Look at me, child.”

You, stubbornly, refuse to open your eyes. And a heavy sigh escapes from your captor, the scent of rotting meat washes over you. The scent is strong enough that you gag.

And he finally releases you, and steps away, heavy chains dragging along the stone floor.

“You disappoint me, child.” And he sounds so, very, disappointed. Your heart lurches in your chest, but you very pointedly don’t look at him, or speak to him.

You know, in the same way that you know the sun will rise every morning, that if you give him the chance, he will slither his way into your psyche, like the viper he is, and you will no longer see him for the monster he is.

You hear a deep inhale, and the chains move closer again. You take a chance to open your eyes, and you see his feet, swollen and purple and putrid-

You slam your eyes shut. Just in time as his hand fists in your hair and you’re jerked, roughly, to your feet. “If you will not obey,” He says, “Then you will be punished.”

And then you feel something strange against your cheek. Warm and slightly rough and slimy-

A choked off scream or revulsion slips from you when you realize that it’s his tongue sliding across your face.

Panic wars with sheer terror, and your mind both goes blank and starts racing a million miles per hour.

And then you reach inward, towards that warm golden glow that belongs to you and no one else. You grab the glow with both hands and hold it close, drawing comfort from the natural magic of your people. 

You let the glow grow and fill you, from the bottoms of your broken feet to the tips of your roughly cropped hair, and you lash out with one strong burst of magic.

The room fills with the golden glow of the midday sun, and you hear a vicious scream of pain, before you’re flung against the hard wall, and you slide to the ground.

You hear the cell door open, and then slam shut, and then you release a shuddering sob as soon as you’re alone. You quickly clamp your hand over your mouth, refusing to give that thing any more power over you than he already had.

You are going to die here.

There’s no one to save you.

You’ve lost track of how long you’ve been in this dungeon.

There are no windows, and He comes down to visit you at such random times, that there’s no way to keep track.

You know it’s been more than a week. Perhaps more than two at this point. You’re still getting fed, though it’s 50-50 on whether the food is edible. Everything he brings you is rotten to the point that it’s inedible. It’s something that happened to food in his presence.

Though, sometimes, a member of the family brings you food instead. The meals are simple, soups and breads and water, but it’s enough that you’re not in danger of dying.

But it’s not enough for you to keep your strength up. Which, you suppose, is the point. The weaker you are, the more likely you are to give in.

You roll onto your side, your back towards the cell door, and you squeeze your eyes shut as you curl your hand around your tail, a nervous habit that you thought you grew out of ages ago…but apparently not. You’re so exhausted that it’s a wonder that you haven’t passed out yet.

You tense when you hear the familiar sound of chains dragging on the stone floor. The noise stops in front of your cell, but the door doesn’t open. Instead the cell across from yours creaks open, and you hear the sound of something heavy hitting the floor, and then the door slams shut.

The sound of chains drags away until the dungeon is silent once more.

You roll onto your other side and slowly crawl over to the door. You peek through the bars at the bottom of the door and you try to squint into the other cell.

It’s no use, the dungeon is too dark. You can barely see your own cell, let alone into the one opposite of yours.

You hesitate for a moment, and once you’re sure that you’re alone, you hold your hand out and summon a spark of your magic. The spark floats from your hand, across the hall, and into the other cell. It offers enough light to see a young man, maybe around your age, with dark hair. 

“Hey,” Your voice is soft. He doesn’t respond, “Hey!” You repeat a little louder, “Are you still alive?”

There’s silence for a moment, and then you hear a groan, and the young man moves, “Stop yelling.”

“Oh, thank the goddess,” You breathe out, you shift a little closer to the bars, and squint at the man, “W-what’s your name?”

He groans again, and you watch as he rolls over and peers at you through the bars of his own door. He’s bleeding from a wound on his temple. “Fixer, what’s yours?” You hesitate for a moment, and then introduce yourself, and he nods once, “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I’m going to remember that.” He admits as he presses his hand to his head and grimaces.

“It’s okay, you have a head wound. It looks like someone hit you with something heavy. You’re lucky you’re not dead.” 

He grimaces, “You aren’t wrong about that,” Fixer touches the wound on his head and then drops his hand, “Where are we, sarad?”

“You’re in the old shrine,” You explain quietly, “We’re…we’re pretty deep underground.”

“How long have you been here?”

“I…don’t know. He keeps trying to get me to serve him again, but I can’t…” You hesitate, “Fixer, listen to me. When he comes, you can’t look at him. You can’t meet his eyes. That’s how he exerts his control over people.”

Fixer stares at you for a moment, and then he nods slowly, “Alright. I’ll keep that in mind.”

You release a quiet sigh of relief, “How did he even catch you? You look…well, you look like you can hold your own.”

Fixer grimaces and presses a hand to his temple, “I wasn’t expecting to be attacked. This area is so far away from the front lines-”

“Front lines?” You ask.

Fixer stares at you for a moment, “Mandalore is at war with Serrano.” He explains slowly.

“Oh. I didn’t know.” You reply quietly.

“I can tell.” He stares at you for a long moment, “Is there a way out?”

“Of the cells or the temple?” You ask.

“Both.”

“I haven’t found a way out of the cells, but I also wouldn’t know what to look for.” You reply after considering his question carefully, “But the temple has many exits. Just most of them are sealed with magic.”

Fixer frowns, and then you see his gaze flicker to the small orb of light, and then back to you, “Magic like yours?”

“Supposedly. The lower levels of the temple haven’t been regularly visited in…” You shake your head, “I don’t know how long. Before I was born.”

“But,” Fixer says intensely as he stares you in the eye, “If I can get us out of the cells, can you navigate the lower levels of the temple safely?”

“I can try.”

He nods and opens his mouth to say something, only to pause when the sound of chains rattling down the stairs echoes off the stone walls. 

You immediately douse the golden light, and scramble to the back of your cell, screwing your eyes shut and turning your head away from the door as the noise gets closer and closer.

He stops in front of your cell, and the door rattles open.

Your breath quickens in fear as the sound of chains gets closer and closer, until you’re able to hear the sickening squelching sound of him approaching you. 

And then he stops. And, for a moment, you hear nothing but the deep rattle of his breath and you can only smell rotting flesh, and then a skeletal hand lands on the top of your head, and you cringe away from him, or your try to, he’s quick to fist his hand in your hair.

“My dearest daughter,” He coos, and you slap your hands over your ears. His voice hurts, and you don’t want to hear him. “Have you met the sacrifice? I’m sure you have. Your sisters and cousins have been so good to bring me such a fine specimen. And as I was thinking about it, I came up with a wonderful idea-”

He pauses, as if waiting for you to respond, and when you don’t he shakes you violently enough that the back of your head cracks against the wall, pulling a pained cry from your throat.

“My idea, my dear, is that you’ll be the one doing the sacrificing. Aren’t I such a kind and devoted patron?”

You don’t reply, there’s no point. You can’t convince him that he’s wrong, anymore than you could convince your family, so you just shake your head. 

He sighs, and you gag as the scent of rotting flesh grows stronger.

He grabs you and flings you into a wall, pulling a second cry of pain from your lips, and then you hear the sound of him moving away from you, “Unfortunate, but it won’t be the first time I have to sacrifice one of my sphinxes.” He says loud enough to be heard over the sound of rattling chains. And then he’s gone, the sound of the chains fading away to silence.

You clamp your hand over your mouth to muffle your sob, you don’t want to die, not to him. Not to make him stronger-

And then you jump as the cell across the hall creaks open. You turn to your cell door, and watch, stunned, as Fixer picks the lock, and slides the door open. He looks…furious. Furious enough that you cringe back away from him.

Fixer’s expression gentles, and he enters your cell and he kneels in front of you. “Are you okay?” He asks.

You slowly nod, wincing as the movement shoots pain through your head. “I’ve had worse.” You admit.

Fixer’s gaze flickers down to your bare feet, which are badly bruised, and then to your tail, which has bald spots from stress, “I don’t doubt it.” He agrees, and then he helps you to your feet, “It’s time to go, sarad. How do we get out of here without crossing that…thing?”

“We have to go deeper.” You explain, pointing further down the hallway. “It’s going to get cold.”

“That’s fine. We’ll go slow, and stick together.” Fixer pins you with a severe look, “If you can’t keep up, you need to let me know.”

“I’ll keep up!” You say quickly, “Please don’t leave me behind-”

Fixer’s touch against your shoulder is so very gentle that you kind of want to cry, when was the last time someone was kind to you? “I’m not going to leave you behind, sarad. I just need to know if I need to slow down for you.”

You nervously lick your lips, and you wince when you taste blood, “I can keep up.” You whisper.

“Don’t push yourself if you can’t. I’m not leaving you behind. I’ll remind you as often as I need to.” Fixer says, and then he lightly tugs you out of your cell and he casts his gaze around, “You said we need to go deeper.”

“Yeah. There’s…or, well, there should be a path that I can open.”

“Should be?”

You shrink under his gaze, and avert your eyes, “Um…”

“It’s fine. We’ll figure it out as we go.” Fixer offers you his hand, “Come on.”

Nervously you take his hand, and Fixer gently propels you down the hall, into the dark.

It takes less than ten minutes for him to stop, a curse falling from his lips, “What’s wrong?” You ask.

“I can’t see,” Fixer says, “It’s black as pitch down this hall.”

You blink at him, and then turn to the hall yourself. It’s…not that dark. Sure, it’s not as bright as it might be outside, but you can see clearly enough. Hesitantly you squeeze his hand and tug him down the hall.

“...you can still see?” Fixer asks, and you can feel his stare on the back of your head without looking over your shoulder at him. “Right. Sphinx.”

“Um, it shouldn’t be far. The tunnels underneath the shrine are probably well lit.” You reply nervously as you lead him through the darkened halls, casting your gaze across the floor and walls as you walk. 

According to the stories, the passage will be marked with a symbol only visible to a sphinx’s eyes. You hope the stories were accurate. Or else this is going to be a very short escape attempt.

You turn to check on Fixer, who’s been very quiet since you’ve started leading him, and…there!

Your head snaps to the side, when you catch a glimpse of something golden glittering on the wall, and you slow to a stop. “I found it.” You tug him over to the wall, and reach up to touch the sigil, your own magic flowing to the surface of your skin as you touch it.

The magic is old. Ancient even. Old enough that it barely recognizes you as a sphinx, and for one heart stopping moment, you worry that the magic is going to reject you, and then there’s the sensation of sunlight against your skin, and a part of the wall melts away into nothing.

You very nearly topple into the opening, and if it wasn’t for Fixer’s strong arm suddenly around your waist holding you steady, you would have.

“Is that the opening?” He asks, his voice low in your ear.

You nod, and then, remembering that he can’t see, you hasten to add, “Yeah. Um, there’s some kind of magic…I can’t see through it.”

“Does it feel dangerous to you?”

Your tail and ears twitch as you consider his question and the feel of the magic in front of you, “It feels like it could be, under the right circumstances.” You finally reply as he releases you and settles a hand on your shoulder.

“Alright. Then we continue.” Fixer says.

“Are…are you sure? I don’t think it will hurt me no matter what, but-”

His grip tightens on your shoulder, “The death we choose is better than any death that this god might give us, sarad. We need to continue. No matter what.”

“...okay.” You lightly take his hand again, and then you take a deep breath and step into the shadow, squeezing your eyes shut as you do so.

Stepping through the shadow feels like walking through cobwebs, and you have to fight the urge to release Fixer’s hand to wipe the sensation off of your face and bare arms. But the sensation dissipates just as quickly as it appeared, and as you open your eyes you’re relieved to see that your prediction about light was correct.

You turn to look at Fixer, and notice that he’s watching the wall slide back into place. “Looks like there’s no way back,” He murmurs, before he glances at you, “And it looks like the only way forward is down.”

“I did warn you,” You say nervously.

He smiles reassuringly, “I know, I’m not mad. I’m actually relieved that you were right.”

“...you are?”

“It means that the stories you were told were right.” He looks around a moment longer, and then he steps off the platform and onto the first step, “So, sarad, what else did your family tell you?”

Fixer’s not sure what to think of Sarad. He knows it’s not her name, but he can’t, for the life of him, remember what her actual name is. It’s frustrating to the point of maddening, honestly, but he can’t think about that now.

Not when the young woman trailing behind him is so nervous and jumpy about absolutely everything.

Not when there’s a literal god hunting them.

She’s thin. Too thin. He has a feeling that she’s been in that cell for a lot longer than she’s even considered. The fur on her tail is patchy, and he can’t help but wonder if she realizes that she’s pulling her own fur out. 

He frowns and reaches back to stop her from pulling some more of her fur out, carefully taking her hand in his as they continue down the stairs. “So, Sarad, what else did your family tell you?” Fixer asks.

You frown and tug on one of your ears, and Fixer sighs, he doesn’t have enough hands to stop her from pulling on her ears when she’s nervous, and she’s always nervous. “Grandmother used to tell a story,” Sarad says slowly, “About how, a long time ago, heroes would come to the shrine to ask for a boon from the Goddess-”

“Wait. Goddess?” Fixer asks, “The person holding us was definitely male.”

She nods, “Grandmother says that the Goddess lives in the realm of the divine, and that the man who the sphinx people serve is her most loyal servant. Though I’m pretty sure that’s not accurate.”

“Clearly,” Fixer replies dryly as he reaches up to stop her from tugging on her ear, “Continue.”

“Um, right. Well, heroes would come to the shrine to ask a boon from the Goddess, and they would have to go through her trials. We, the sphinx people, were the guardians of the trials. It was our job to determine if a hero could enter the trials or not.”

“And what were the trials?” Fixer asks, a feeling of dread filling him.

“Um…I don’t know.” She admits nervously, “There haven’t been any heroes trying to enter the shrine in generations. Sorry.”

“Hey, you don’t have to apologize for not knowing. It’s not your fault.” Fixer replies. “Things get lost to history all the time. It just means we have to be careful.”

“You.” She says, and he shoots her a puzzled look, “You have to be careful.”

Fixer slows to a stop and he turns to look Sarad in the eye, “What, exactly, do you mean?”

“Uhm, well,” She tries to grip her tail again, but Fixer swiftly grabs both of her hands and threads his fingers with hers so she’s not able to pull her fur out, “Well…the trials are meant for heroes, and the Sphinx people were guides,” She says quickly while staring at the joined hands in puzzlement, “The trials won’t…er…shouldn’t activate for me.”

“But they will for me.”

“Supposedly.”

Fixer considers her words for a moment, and then he nods slowly, “Good.” He says decisively, “You’re injured. More injured than I am, and more injured than you want to admit.”

She ducks her head, “It’s not so bad.”

“Sarad,” He says softly, gently, “Did you even notice that you’ve been pulling out your fur?”

Her gaze snaps to his face and then drops to her tail, and her face falls, “I…no…I did that?”

“You’ve been in that cell for a lot longer than I think either of us will ever know,” Fixer continues, his voice still so soft, “So I’m going to take care of you. And when we get out of here, I’m taking you with me.”

Sarad blinks at him, “What about my people?”

“I’m going to be really mean for a moment and tell you that I don’t care about your people.” Fixer says bluntly, “I care about you. And getting you, specifically, to safety.”

“It’s not their fault! They’re just…they’re brainwashed-”

“Does that make it better?” Fixer interrupts, “What they did to you? What they allowed to be done to you?” She hesitates for a moment, and Fixer continues, “Would you be able to live with them, with the memory of everything that happened to you still living in your head?”

“I…” She trails off, unable to answer, which is an answer in and of itself.

“Will you let me take care of you, Sarad?” Fixer asks, “Will you let me help you? Someday we’ll come back, and we’ll set things right, but we can’t do that with just two people.”

She gnaws on her lower lip for a moment, and then she nods. “I can agree to that.”

Fixer relaxes slightly and a small smile crosses his face, “Thank you.” He reaches out and lightly smooths his hand over her knotted hair, and is surprised when he hears a noise that can only be a purr.

She flushes, mortified, and Fixer releases a laugh as he pets the top of her head a little longer, “How long has it been since someone touched you without the intention to hurt you, sarad?”

“I don’t remember.” She whispers, and then she ducks her head, “Can we keep moving, please?”

He flashes a small grin at her, and then pulls his hand away, only to reach down and take her hand in his once again, “Stay close, Sarad.”

The staircase is massive. And, luckily, it’s not too steep and the stone isn’t too rough on your bare feet, but you’re still grateful that Fixer seems to know when you’re not able to walk any further. In fact, he seems to know when you’re unable to go any further before you are.

At the moment, your arms are around his neck while he continues carrying you down the steps.

“Ah,” Fixer says with a relieved sigh, as he stops and lightly sets you back on your feet. You can see, right away, what caught his attention. An open room, decorated in whites and golds, and a large door on the opposite side of the room. “The first trial, I take it?” Fixer asks you.

You glance at him and shrug, “That would be my guess.”

“Right.” Fixer closes his eyes in thought, “Okay, stay close to me, Sarad. And stay behind me, I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You nod and wrap your hands around his upper arm, and then release him again when he shoots you a look, and you sheepishly grab the back of his shirt, “Sorry. I’m a little nervous.”

“It’s okay.” He gives you a moment, “Are you ready?”

“I…I think so.”

Fixer nods once, and starts down the stairs, slowly so as to not rush you, and as soon as the both of you are in the large room, the stairs completely vanish, pulling a startled squeak from you as you press against his back, “It’s okay, sarad. It’s okay. It’s just a little magic. I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

You cling to him for a moment longer, and then slowly release him, “Sorry.”

“It’s okay. You’re okay.” Fixer looks you over for a moment, “We need to take a break, as soon as we can. A proper night's sleep will help you feel better.”

There’s a sudden swell of magic, and you instinctively lay your ears flat against your head, “Fixer-”

“I know, stay behind me.” He says, his gaze darting around the room.

WELCOME HERO

A voice, loud enough that you have to clamp your hands over your ears to make it a little more tolerable, echoes through the room. 

WELCOME TO THE GODDESS’ TRIALS

The booming voice continues.

WHAT IS IT THAT YOU SEEK, HERO

“A way out,” Fixer says as he makes sure that you’re still behind him, “All I want is a way out. For both of us.”

There’s silence for a moment, and then, again, the booming voice returns.

WHAT IS IT THAT YOU SEEK, HERO

“I-”

“You have to give an answer,” You whisper, “It’s a spell, designed to activate the trial. Only after you give it an answer. You have to answer in the form of, ‘I seek-’.”

Fixer glances at you, and then frowns, “Seems a bit…convoluted. But fine. I seek,” He emphasizes, “an escape from the temple, for myself and my companion.”

Nothing happens for a moment, and Fixer frowns. Your ears twitch as you search for any sound of movement anywhere in the room, but there’s nothing. 

YOU SEEK SAFETY FOR YOURSELF AND ONE OTHER. CONTINUE TO THE TRIAL.

A wall slides open on the other side of the room, and Fixer grimaces. “I thought you said that you weren’t going to be involved in the trials?” He asks.

“I think…I think it’s because you mentioned me.” You offer hesitantly, not really sure yourself.

“Damn. Sorry, Sarad.” He mutters, “Come on. Let’s get this over with.” And then he pauses, “Wait, what kind of trials are there?”

“All sorts. There are puzzles and combat and combat puzzles-” You reply nervously.

Fixer grimaces, “Alright. I guess we’ll be going blind from here.” He leads you to the opening in the wall, and as soon as the both of you are on the other side, the wall slides shut again.

“No backtracking allowed,” You whisper as you lightly grip his arm.

“We probably should have guessed that.” He murmurs back to you as he leads you down the stairs.

It’s a much shorter staircase this time, and the room that the pair of you come to is massive, though the only thing in the room is a massive statue. The statue looked like it should have been a woman cloaked in cloth, but the statue has been ruined over the years.

“Who’s that supposed to be?” Fixer asks.

“I think it’s meant to be an aspect of the Goddess,” You reply, “There…there aren’t any depictions of her anymore. They’ve all been destroyed by time.”

“By time? Or by the creature who’s calling himself the Sphinxes Patron?”

“I don’t know. Either one is possible.”

“Hm,” Fixer motions for you to stay near the staircase as he slowly walks around the room, looking for a possible exit, “Hey, Sarad?”

“Yeah?”

“When did heroes stop coming to the temple?”

“Oh, uh…” You tug on some of your hair as you try to remember, “It’s been centuries, if I remember correctly. The stories all say that it’s because there aren’t any more heroes.”

“Hm…does that sound right to you?” Fixer asks.

You’re quiet for a long moment, “I think…” You trail off, and then you fold your arms, “I think the heroes stopped coming here because they were all dying. I think they were sacrificed, just like you were going to be.”

“I think you’re probably right,” Fixer agrees, “All the more reason for us to get out. Unfortunately, I don’t see anything that could be an exit, or a puzzle.”

You move further into the room, and the staircase vanishes as soon as you’re far enough away. You make your way over to Fixer, though you keep your gaze locked on the statue. “I think it has something to do with the statue.”

His gaze drifts to the statue, “That tracks,” Fixer moves over to the statue and carefully runs his fingers over the base, “No-there’s nothing…ah, wait.” He pauses and crouches on the side, “There’s something here-”

Fixer examines the item he found closely, and he frowns, “I think it’s a pressure plate. There’s a symbol carved on it.” He’s quiet for a moment, and then he frowns, “Come here, Sarad. I’m not activating this unless you’re next to me.”

You cross the room, back to his side, and lightly curl your fingers around the back of his shirt. “Okay. Go ahead.”

Fixer presses the plate, and there’s a sudden surge of warmth. Magic coils around the pair of you, and suddenly you find yourself on the other side of the room. And the floor is covered in tiles with different symbols etched on them.

And on the other side of the room, a wall opens.

“That’s our way out, I take it.” Fixer says, as his gaze lingers on the tiles on the floor, “What do you think?”

You open your mouth to say something, but the words die in your throat.

“Sarad?” He turns to look at you, and then he pauses, “What’s that?”

You shoot him a puzzled look. Fixer stands and slowly reaches out to you, his fingers brushing against your neck.

“There’s…some kind of magic wrapped around your neck.” Fixer says slowly, “It encircles your entire neck.” He frowns, “Are you able to speak?”

You open your mouth to say something, but the words die in your throat again, and your ears flatten against your head.

“I guess not.” He murmurs, “Good thing you’re so expressive.” He frowns at the magic collar thoughtfully, “I guess this is to keep us from cheating? Even if you know the answer, you can’t tell me because the collar prevents you?”

He lightly squeezes your shoulder, “It’s okay, Sarad.” Fixer says soothingly when he sees your distress, “I don’t need help with the puzzles, you don’t have to worry. Stay here. I think the room will reset to normal once I’m at the other side.”

He squeezes your shoulder one more time, and then releases you to turn his attention towards the panels on the floor.

Fixer examines each panel closely, and then after several minutes of this, he steps on one of the panels, and slowly, carefully, makes his way across the room.

Each floor panel he steps on lights up in a warm golden color, and as he makes his way across the room, you feel your anxiety lessen. Fixer doesn’t move onto the next panel unless he’s sure that it’s the right one, and though it takes time, eventually he finds his way to the other side of the room, and he presses his hand against a glowing sigil on the wall. 

There’s a blinding flash of light, and, as you blink the spots out of your eyes, you notice that the room has returned back to its original state, save for the open wall on the other side of the room.

“Come on, Sarad,” Fixer says as he turns his gaze towards you, “We can move on now.” He doesn’t move from his spot next to the wall until you’re safely at his side, and he immediately taps your chin to tilt your head back to get a look at your neck, “The collar is gone.” He says, sounding relieved.

“Oh, that’s good.” You say, just as relieved that there’s no longer something forcing you to stay silent. You lightly wrap your hands around his arm, and gently, he tugs you through the opening in the wall.

The wall shuts behind you, and for a moment there’s no light, before torches flare to life. This room is much smaller than the previous room you were in, and there’s nothing in the room at all. Save, of course, for the door that leads to another set of staircases.

Fixer rubs his cheek for a moment, casting his gaze around the room. And then he gently untangles his arm from your grip, and he pokes around the room. “Well, this place seems safe enough.” He says after several minutes of very thorough investigation, “And it’s warm enough in here that we won’t freeze. We should take a break here.”

“You don’t want to keep going?” You ask.

“I don’t think you’re able to keep going.” Fixer corrects. He leans against the wall and slides to the ground with a quiet groan, “Come here, Sarad. You need a break more than I do.”

“...sorry.” You whisper, even as you slide to the floor next to him.

“You don’t have to apologize. Not to me. Not about this.” Fixer considers you for a moment, and then he, very gently, tugs you onto his lap, and guides your head to rest just under his chin. “There, now you don’t have to sleep on the stone.”

“What about you?”

“Don’t worry about me, Sarad. I’m going to be just fine.” He smooths his hand down your back, and slowly, you drift off to sleep with your fingers curled against his shirt.

Fixer keeps his gaze on Sarad’s face until he’s sure that she’s asleep, and then he releases a quiet breath. Carefully, as to not wake her, he checks her over for any serious injuries, and he releases a sigh of relief when he sees that, aside from being too thin and being covered in bruises, she doesn’t have any serious injuries.

Not that it would matter if she did, it’s not as though he has a first aid kit on him. Fixer adjusts her so that he’s a little more comfortable with her on his lap, and then he reaches into one of his pockets and pulls out the only item that wasn’t taken from him, his comm.

No video or audio, but he is able to send a text message to his brothers. 

Fixer, reporting in.

Where the hell have you been? We’ve been trying to reach you for days! Scorch replies, almost immediately.

The boys were right, there is something weird happening out here in the desert. Fixer replies, I got caught, I’m in the process of making my escape as we speak, but it’s a little…complicated.

In what way? Boss asks.

Well, I’m not alone, for one. Fixer glances down at Sarad, and adjusts the comm so that there’s no light shining on her face, For another, I have to perform trials to get out of this place.

The person with you, are they a threat? Sev asks.

No. She was being held by the same person who was holding me…and he’s been holding her for a lot longer. She’s been starved-

You were only supposed to find out what was going on in the desert, Fixer. Not get involved. Boss chides.

He was going to kill her. I couldn’t just leave her anymore than you could have.

I suppose that’s fair. What’s the play then? Boss asks.

I have to get out and get her to safety before anything else. But…there’s some kind of living corpse that’s controlling the Sphinx people. I doubt we’re going to be able to handle it alone. Fixer admits grudgingly, only to pause when Sarad shivers and tries to press herself closer to him for warmth. He sighs and wraps his arm securely around her, and only looks back at his comm when he’s sure she’s not going to wake up. I don’t believe the Sphinx people would be a threat if they knew what they were serving, but this creature has them totally ensnared.

Understood. I’ll inform Alpha. Boss sends back. Odds are we’re going to have to wait until the Serrano thing is handled before we try and deal with this situation. Do you need support?

No. But I’ll let you know if that changes.

Understood. Good luck, vod. Boss replies, and then the comm disconnects, and Fixer slips his comm back into his pocket.

For a moment, he allows his head to bump back against the stone behind him, and then he looks down at Sarad. He’s not going to be able to sleep, and since she can’t help with the puzzles anyway-

Very carefully, Fixer adjusts the way his arms are around her, and slowly he gets to his feet. His sarad doesn’t even stir. Now much more sure of his actions, Fixer turns to the stairs and carefully continues his path through the temple. 

Hopefully his Sarad won’t be too upset about letting her sleep.

You stir awake after the best sleep you’ve had in a very, very long time. And the first thing you’re aware of is the fact that you’re moving. You blink up at Fixer, who is now nursing a series of bruises on his face, and you shift slightly.

Fixer glances down at you, and a small smile crosses his face, “Good morning,” He stops moving and carefully sets you on your feet, steadying you as you stretch out.

And then you take in your surroundings.

You’re no longer in the white and gold marble of the upper temple, but rather you’re in the deepest parts. The stone under your feet is cool to the touch, and the only light comes from the blue crystals hanging overhead.

You turn a puzzled look up to Fixer, who, at least, has the grace to look a little sheepish. “I couldn’t sleep, so I decided to keep going while you were sleeping.”

You feel a flash of guilt, “You should have woken me-”

“No need. You were tired, and you can’t take part in the trials anyway.” Fixer points out, “I’ve already gone through three more trials while you were asleep.”

You stare at him, stunned, “You did?”

“Yeah. One of them was a combat trial, which has been the hardest so far since I didn’t have a weapon.” Fixer admits, “But I managed.” He lightly takes your hand in his. “Come on, let’s get to this last trial.”

“Um, okay.”

You allow him to lead you down the stairs, and you press closer to him as you start to get more and more nervous. “What’s wrong, sarad?” Fixer asks.

“I dunno…my fur is standing on end, and I feel scared.” You admit.

He stops and lightly presses his hands against your cheeks, ��Hey. There’s no reason to be afraid. I’m not going to let anyone hurt you. We’re going to get out of this.”

“But, what if-”

“I promise.” Fixer interrupts, “I promise that you’re going to be okay. Just trust me.”

Slowly you nod, “Okay.”

His smile is gentle for a moment as he lightly strokes your cheek, and then he releases you and takes your hand in his, offering what comfort he can as he leads you deeper and deeper into the temple.

At last you come to a massive room, with beautiful pillars carved out of crystal, and blue flames lighting the room. And there, in the center, is a frail looking old woman sitting on a throne.

Like you, she has rounded ears on the top of her head, and a long tail with a tuft of fur at the end. And as the pair of you approach her, she opens her eyes and pins you both with her sightless gaze.

She sighs, and it’s sounds like wind across the dune sea, “How long has it been,” the woman murmurs, her voice like sand, “Since anyone has visited me?” 

“Do you know her, sarad?” Fixer asks, his voice soft.

You shake your head slowly, “No. But…she feels familiar. Like a memory…or a dream of a memory.”

The woman pins you in place with a stare, and it’s almost as if she’s looking through you. You flinch and try to duck behind Fixer, but find that you’re unable to move. 

And then the woman laughs, “My daughters have tried so hard to forget my name and my face, but even now, one of my youngest knows me.”

“Sarad-?”

“I think…I think she’s the Goddess.”

“Indeed I am,” The woman flashes a fang filled smile, “And you are the first visitors I’ve received in centuries. So tell me, hero, what is your wish? Money? Power? Fame?”

“None of that.” Fixer says, as he tugs you behind him, “All I want is a way to get the both of us to safety.”

The old woman tilts her head, “That’s all?”

“That creature was going to sacrifice her-”

“...us,” You correct softly.

“Right, us, to make himself more powerful. We’re not safe here.” Fixer says, “All I want is to get ourselves to safety.”

The woman is silent for a long moment, and then she sighs, “My daughters have lost their way. If I can save at least one, then all will be worth it.” She gazes at Fixer, “I will grant you your wish, on one condition.”

“What condition?” Fixer demands.

“You protect my daughter.”

He scoffs, “I’m going to do that anyway, with or without your condition.”

And she smiles. “Good.” She closes her eyes, and there’s a swell of magic, “Goodbye, son of man. Live well, daughter of the sands.”

There’s a blinding flash of light, and the sensation of sand swirling around you, and then a sudden weightlessness. 

Solid ground appears under your feet, and you stumble, and the only reason you don’t fall is because of the strong arms wrapped tightly around you. 

“Fixer?!” A man, identical to Fixer, hurries over. “You…what…how?”

“Boss,” Fixer makes sure that you’re steady, and then you immediately duck behind him, “It appears that we’ve escaped.”

“No kidding!” Another man, this one clad in yellow armor sputters as he hurries over, “I…who’s this?”

You squeak when his gaze lands on you, and you hide behind Fixer, “You’re scaring her, Scorch.” Fixer chides, “She needs medical attention, and so do I probably, and then I’ll tell you everything.”

“No, hold on…does she have lion ears?” Scorch asks as he tries to peek around Fixer to get a good look at you.

“Scorch! Enough!” Boss orders, “Go ahead and get to the hospital, Fixer. Sev should be around here somewhere…kind of glad he’s not here to scare her even more, though.” He mutters.

“Come on, sarad. There’s no need to be afraid, my brothers aren’t going to hurt you.” Fixer says as he turns to look at you and offers you his hand, “Don’t worry, I’m going to take care of you.”

Hesitantly you take his hand.

After all, Fixer has never lied to you before.

Six months later, you’re largely healed, though you’re still much thinner than anyone would prefer, yourself included. You release a rumbling purr as you stretch out in the sun, your tail flicking lazily as you soak up the sun’s rays.

“Sarad,” you crack open an eye to look up at Fixer, who’s watching  you with a fond smile on his face, “We’re moving on. We have a new mission.” You yawn widely and then roll over onto your feet.

“Where are we going?” You ask, and then you pout as Fixer pulls a wool cap over your head.

“Serrano.”

“I’m going to turn into a Sphinxcicle.” You whine, “I’m not made for snowy weather.”

“Good thing that we made sure to get you winter weather gear.” Fixer teases, “Come on, Sarad. You know I’ll always take care of you.”

“Yeah, I know.”

He leans in and presses a light kiss against your temple, “Good. Now we need to hurry, or Boss is going to send Sev after us.” Fixer offers you his hand with a small smile, and you grin as you take it.

This isn’t how you expected your life to end up. You expected to die in that desert, unmourned and forgotten. And yet, here you are, surrounded by people who love and worry about you. 

And you’ve never been happier.

#star wars #tcw #star wars au #Magic and Knights AU #Fixer x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #F!reader fanfiction

[bronx-bomber87]

Happy Weekend all :) This one was very fun to review for me. Its one of my fav eps of s1. Such good content for Chenford and Lucy. Non stop goodness from beginning to end. Had to take some screen shots with my phone while watching cause there wasn't a gif for everything. Luckily have new phone so they came out pretty nice. TON of moments and I only get 30 gif/image limit which I hit quickly and felt on this one haha Lets delve in shall we?

1x14 Plain Clothes Day

First off Tim in street clothes? Yum. Gimme. I’ll take that all day. Plus he’s in a Henley too whew lord. What a distraction to have haha Second you can see he’s already fully enjoying himself. Ah plain clothes day. I’m sure Tim has been looking forward to this for awhile. They all look so excited. Lucy is as amped as the other two to make decisions solo. Well that is until Tim opens his mouth.... He is very eager to get under her skin. Asking her what she's looking at? That he's not even there...

You can see the nerves written all over Lucy’s face now. All she wants is to prove herself to him and this is her biggest opportunity to do so. You can see how uneasy she is while the other two still seem psyched af. Oh the amount you will grow in this episode Lucy. You have no idea.

All the T.O.’s start to talk bout their wash out numbers on PCD behind them. Tim saying his is in the double digits by now. 11 to be exact. Tim is an ass and says he’s looking to making it an even dozen today. (Like he would ever actually want that... please Timothy why you always lying? ) Lucy’s discomfort only continues to grow. Poor thing. It’s clearly a tactic to get under all their skins, sadly working on Lucy more so than the others atm.

Lucy is loading up the shop when Tim pulls out an envelope. She sees it has her name on it and asks what he’s doing? Tim informs her that he already filled out her eval. Lucy looks confused as hell saying they haven’t even started yet. How could he possibly have her eval done? Determined to be under her skin and live there today, Tim tells her he already knows how this day will end. So mean good sir so mean..

Lucy is refusing to let him psych her out, but then gets in the passenger side LOL Oh my girl it's gonna be a long day for you haha. He does say Thank you when she leaves the passenger door open for him though ha

Tim hands her the envelope. She is not allowed to look at it till end of shift. I do love her tenacity/confidence after he does this. Lucy has gained back some in this moment. Telling Tim she’s gonna prove him wrong with whatever he wrote about her. As I said earlier she wants so badly prove herself to him. Even if she has to puff herself up in order to do it. Wants Tim to see her bravado before they head out.

Sadly it doesn't last long. Its his mission to rattle her cage as much as possible today. He goes and squashes that confidence out the gate. Because Tim be Tim. The fact that he knows Lucy this damn well is backfiring on her hard. Instead of leaving the garage confident she leaves deflated.

Doesn’t take long for Lucy to find her first criminal of the day. A perv pretending to be a cable guy filming a woman in her house. I do love Tim watch her during it all. The way he silently observes as she handles it. Her taking that guy out with her door was pretty bad ass. Trying right off the bat to show him she’s capable. Lucy is feeling pretty damn proud of herself atm. Caught a pervy guy early on and thinking she has totally got this. That look from Tim is so very telling as Lucy puts that guy in their shop. It's a 'We'll see.' as she puts away their criminal.

Speaking of criminal It should be to look this damn good leaning against a van. Even though Tim is being smug af in this scene, he looks fine as hell just standing there. Ovary explosion for me haha that badge, his Henley riding up over it. *fans self* Eric you’re so attractive it’s not fair haha

Lucy starts rattling off her checklist before they leave. Making sure she's done everything right. Tim is clearly trying to get her to notice the van for which he is leaning on. It’s for more than just looking sinfully delicious. He’s trying to get her to put two and two together and finish this scene up properly. He has his phone in his hands for a reason. Just in case she doesn't pick up on the clue he's trying to emit to her. Lucy senses something but she isn't sure what.

He gives her ‘the look’ the one Lucy has learned and seen for months. The one he gives her when he is trying to get her to think a little more. This is his other way of trying to get her to connect the dots. Now Lucy notices he’s giving her his 'Bradford' look. She just isn’t sure why....

Lucy finally says they’re all wrapped up confidently. That this is a solid arrest. Trying to prove to him she did a good job on her own. Tim pushes off the van as his last ditch effort to get her to notice it. Lucy sadly doesn’t do this or realize what she is leaving behind. Her body language is reading she isn't sure of herself now and no idea why but leaves anyways.

They make it to back to the station and Lucy pulls out the eval when she’s alone. Or thinks she is. Naturally Tim knew she was going to open it early. He knows her like the back of his hand. It’s not the real eval and he catches her. Uses this as a opportunity to tell her about the van she left behind. Tim goes over how she left a treasure trove of evidence on the street. Didn’t process the scene as throughly as she should’ve. Or thought she did. That he saw this coming because he knows everything she is going to do. Lucy panics and checks the pervs phone in evidence and sees he’s texted a friend to get his van.

She rushes back to the scene only to find it gone. Lucy calls it in and finds out it was impounded. Tim had it taken care of for her. Hence the phone in his hand the entire time he was near the van. Teaching her a lesson without actually getting her in trouble for missing evidence. It was a stressful adrenaline rush for Lucy to go back, but she’ll never forget to do that again. She may not think he was taking care of her in the moment but he is. Lucy thinks he’s doing it to humiliate her. She's so frustrated she is lashing out at him.

He explains he did it this way cause she overlooked a massive detail. That he is teaching her to control her environment, be detail oriented and honestly she will never ever forget this. It’s rough for her but like everything else, Tim is challenging her like this because he knows she will rise to the occasion. Lucy wouldn’t have remembered this if he had just handed it to her. She is rattled and annoyed. This is a rough rough start to her plain clothes day.

They move onto Lucy’s next call. It’s for a noise complaint for a dog. Lucy tries to calm the dog down and the dog barks at her. Tim comments this isn’t what he meant by her ‘controlling her environment. ’ The guy Akers is a douche and not good to his dog. Honestly I would’ve wanted to verbally eat him too tbh. I’m with Lucy on wanting to take this guy down. You’re mean to animals something seriously wrong with you IMO. Animal lover in me was rooting Lucy on in this scene. She tells him she's going to make him her 'Personal Pet project' leaving both Tim and Akers stunned.

The way she says that line what a BAMF. Also lets talk about the look on Tim’s face. It’s a mixture of impressed and a little bit of ‘Why am I turned on right now?’ Baha You know he didn’t hate seeing her with some serious confidence after that first crime scene. That attraction for him with her for sure growing in this moment. Sadly even though she feels justified with what she said it comes back to bite her in the ass. She over compensated and threatened the man while trying to prove herself after the van incident. They are called to Grey's office with some bad news.

Akers has decided to call in a rude conduct complaint on Lucy. His way of getting her back for putting him in his place. You can see how visibly upset Tim is over this. Grey tells them he called it in saying she threatened him. To be fair he made the first threat but she’s supposed to be better than him. Being the bigger person always sucks and is never fun. Lucy now faces possible firing and washing out. IA has been notified and Lucy looks devastated.

They go to lunch and she of course is freaking out she’s gonna get bounced. Talia and Tim are talking about it as well. She asks why didn't Tim step in if Lucy threatened the guy. He says its cheating and he is a man of principals after all. Talia is actually very worried Lucy could get terminated. Its then you see that protective side of Tim come out. Saying he won’t allow her to get fired. That this guy is a jerk but there is no way he would let anything happen to her. Plain clothes day or not.

Talia calls him out on that, she thought he was a man of ‘principles’. He of course is going to contradict himself for Lucy. Like in previous ep when Tim said circumstances dictate his actions. Well he’s not going to let this ass hat take her career principles be damned. Any other rookie he would've let wash out. Or even been ok with that. Not Lucy. He wants her to succeed so badly. Everything is different with her. He would go against his principles to save her. That is the thing of importance to note here.

This is the second best scene the entire episode for them. Tim refuses to let his schmuck get her fired. Lucy say's they shouldn't be back here. This guy filed a complaint against her. Tim tells her she's not he is. He’s bending his own rules to save her job. By saying she 'made' the decision to have him save her career. Sneaky sneaky Tim, good way around your own rule.

Lucy recognizes he’s going to bat for her here. That he's had her return them to this house so he can fix it. Tim is going to scrape and claw to keep her from washing out. Even if it means taking on the complaint himself instead of her. I don’t think Lucy has ever had anyone believe in her or protect her the way Tim does. Now at this point in time we don’t know her parents. Or the emotional damage they’ve inflicted upon her. But if you do you can see why this would mean so much to her. It’s a career her parents don’t want for her and were hoping she would give up on, and here is this man who believes in her and is willing to fight to keep her around.

Tim can’t expose too much vulnerability in this moment. So he deflects her appreciation for what he’s willing to do for her. Says if she’s going to be fired it’ll be because of him. The irony of that statement in this moment. Such a small but impactful moment for them. It’s what makes Chenford great. All these small moments that add up to what makes them so damn incredible in first place. That foundation being laid.

The chat doesn’t go in Tim’s favor at all. Acker says he’s going to file a complaint against Tim too. He returns to the car and tells her drive. Lucy notices the dog crying at the garage and pacing. They see blood on it and Lucy says she has probable cause to check. Tim tells her if she’s wrong she will definitely get fired. That this is her call to make though. Lucy doesn’t hesitate in going to check the garage. Acker sees her and tries to stop her.

They open the garage and find the body of his neighbor. Guy tries to take Lucy out. She takes him down easily and Tim looks on impressed as hell with her. Not only for that takedown but her initiative and going with her gut in the moment. She noticed the blood on the garage and knew something was wrong. Then made the right call when the moment called for it. That’s all Tim wanted her to do all day. Trust her gut. He knows she’s a great cop He just needs her to believe that. His goal was to build her self esteem and he did.

This final scene really seals the deal for the building of that self assurance. Tim knows right now she needs some comfort. So he has Lucy read her evaluation. Lucy thinks it’s the end of the road for her so what’s the point? He needs her to know how well she did today. Not the whole day mind you but she was clutch at the end. Lucy is only going to remember what she did wrong today not what she did right. Tim knows this about her. Why he makes her read it. To him it’s not how you start it’s how you finish and she finished strong as hell.

Tim is very attuned to what Lucy needs and when. At this moment in time she needs comfort, and words of assurance. He compliments her for the first time really. Lets her know yeah her day started off really rough. But when the chips were down she didn’t hesitate. She made the right call when it mattered and he knew she would. He is dying for Lucy to see what he see's in her. This scene is the start of that. The start of her believing in herself as a cop. Because when the pressure came at her she was strong, self assured and kicked that situation in the face.

Tim knows this is not the time to hold back what he thinks of her. To put away the tough ass T.O. in this moment. He’s so damn proud of her and wants her to know it. After he's built her up he tries to lighten the moment for her. Makes his little shot of 'Now he has to rewrite the damn thing.' Cause she proved him wrong. He wants to make her smile before her meeting with the Capt. He would never tell her as much but he’s probably so relieved and happy to do re-do her eval. Their foundation is so damn solid I can’t get over it. He believes in her so much. It’s why he pushes her the way he does. I know he thinks she’s exceptional he just needs Lucy to start believing that.

The ending is perfect. The work flirts continue but this time on Lucy’s end. She walks over to Tim and hands him an envelope. Tells him it’s her evaluation of him. Tim tells her that’s not how it works. Lucy replies ‘If you don’t want to read it don’t.’ and cooly walks away. Lucy ushers the boys out before Tim can open it. When he does he realizes it’s their bar tab LOL just like in 1x06 when she steals his wallet he’s too impressed to actually be mad haha such a good episode for them top to bottom.

~~~

Non Chenford stuff didn't really have any. Too much Chenford goodies haha

As always thank you all for your support, likes/comments and reblogs. I can't express how much they mean to me. put a lot of effort into these reviews and the support I get back is incredible so thank you all. I shall see you in 1x15 when I can. :)

#Caitlin rewatches the Rookie #chenford #chenford hiatus #summer rewatch #s1 #1x14 Plain Clothes Day #tim x lucy #the rookie #tim bradford #lucy chen #lucy x tim #eric winter #melissa o'neil #otp: doing my job #tim bradford x lucy chen

[sinfulauthorwrites]

Dream Machine - A Mettaton x Reader Fic

As you lie awake in bed, only able to focus on your worries, your boyfriend Mettaton offers encouragement and help.

So, not so fun fact: while I had this idea rattling around my head for a while, I only got down to writing it while I was in the psych ward 🙃 Though, writing fic by hand in a journal without autocorrect or Grammarly made me feel like one of the OG Star Trek slash shippers in the 60s, which was a really fun feeling! Aside from word choice and a few extra sentences, the typed version remains relatively unchanged from the handwritten one, though I may still share the pics of my journal on Tumblr or Twitter! Also, the title comes from the Steam Powered Giraffe song of the same name!

Rating: General Audiences

Ship: Mettaton EX x GN!Reader

Word Count: 891

Applicable Tags: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Reader Is Not Frisk, Reader Has Anxiety (the anxiety isn't specified, it's more open-ended for the reader to project onto), Self-Worth Issues, Self-Esteem Issues, Meditation, Sleep, Crying, Fluff, Established Relationship, Pet Names, POV Second Person, Not Beta Read

You lie awake in bed next to your android boyfriend. He was already powered into sleep mode for the night, as his LED eye displays were dimmed and his tail-like charging cord plugged into the nearby wall. You look at him for a moment before turning to the pink canopy of the bed above you, starting at the shadows in the fabric formed by the lights from outside your shared penthouse apartment. The darkness warped, presenting visual manifestations of the problems keeping you from sleep. 

Yes, you knew Mettaton had his worries, but as the Underground’s biggest star now on the surface, he had much more significant concerns compared to yours. Tour dates, filming, recording sessions, the list goes on. Yours are small compared to his. Insignificant. Human. You feel your stress tug your eyelids open, preventing your “beauty rest,” as your boyfriend lovingly called it. As you shift once more and pull the satin sheets closer to you, you hear a familiar boot-up sound and fans whirring to life. Oh shit. Your tossing and turning set off Mettaton’s motion detection, a vestigial feature not yet removed since his purpose was changed.

“D-darling, is something the matter?” The robot’s voice glitches momentarily, his now-illuminated pink eyes looking at you with concern.

“Y-yeah! I must’ve rolled over too far,” you nervously chuckle. “I didn’t mean to wake you, babe. Get some rest, as neither of us wants you low on battery tomorrow.”

Mettaton purses his lips, not taking no for an answer. “Darling, look at me.” His tone sharpens when you curl up tighter with your back facing him. “Look. At. Me.” With a resigned sigh, you turn to face him. “Oh, beautiful,” he sighs, cupping your cheek with his gloved hand, his thumb circling below the dark bags and worry lines underneath your eyes. “How much sleep have you been getting lately?”

You mumble your response, prompting your boyfriend to look at you sternly. “Usually only two hours a night, especially when you’re not here,” you fess up.

You can see the guilt hit your boyfriend, causing you to quickly run your hand through his synthetic hair and reassure him. “It’s not because of you, I promise!”

“But why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Despite being the biggest celebrity of the century, Mettaton still immensely cares for you. You’re his star, his world, his everything. Seeing you suffer makes his SOUL feel like shattering.

You inhale deeply. “I-” you quickly correct yourself. “It just feels all so unimportant compared to you. I mean, you’ve got so much amazing stuff going on right now. And with me, it’s just…” You hesitate momentarily, unsure if you want to continue, until you see Mettaton nod with understanding and compassion. Soon, your words flow out of you, every insecurity and doubt leaving your lips. Tears begin to fall from your eyes, leaving small damp spots on the pillowcase you rested on. Mettaton extends his arm in back of him to pass you a tissue box, the lotion-infused tissues a welcome relief for your sore eyes.

“Did that help you feel better, sweetheart?” You nod, and Mettaton presses a soft kiss to your forehead. “Good. Now, I want you to listen to me very closely.” You nod, and the robot cups your cheeks once more. “You will never, ever be inconsequential to me, darling. You mean so much, not just to me but to everyone around you! Don’t ever feel like you don’t matter, or whatever you’re going through doesn’t matter, either. I care, we care.” He kisses you on the lips this time. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you murmur back, held tight in his embrace.

After a few moments, Mettaton lets go. “Do you think you’ll be able to sleep now, darling?”

You let out another breathy, anxious chuckle. “Probably not, to be honest. It’s alright, though. I’ll make it up tomorrow during the day.”

“There has to be something we can do, sweetheart.” Mettaton’s pupils shift from his usual hearts into turning gears before changing to a lightbulb emoticon. “Hey! It’s not technically released yet, but Blooky and Alphys were working on music to benefit monsters and humans!” He shoots you one of his signature grins. “Co-produced by yours truly, of course!” Mettaton finds the demo CD in the nightstand drawer, preparing to play it from his speakers. “How would you like to be our first test subject?” His eyes sparkle with encouragement, and you just can’t say no to him. 

The robot pats the bed, motioning for you to lie down. He loads the CD into one of the slots built into his EX form, his other hand drifting down to hold yours. The ambient tones soon lull you into a reverie, with the faint sounds of rushing water mixed into the track. It’s an obvious callback to the family of ghostly cousins’ original abode, but it soothes your mind as your anxieties flow away. As you close your eyes, you feel the sensation of the water surrounding you, floating through space and time and easing your body and mind. Mettaton’s hand is a tether to the physical world, keeping you grounded as your mind drifts away peacefully. Although they were once wide and bloodshot, your eyes become heavy and worn as you finally sail away into a restful sleep.

Liked this and want more? Check out my AO3 here!

#anxiety tw #one-shot #undertale #ut #x reader #mettaton x reader #mettaton ex x reader #mettaton x gn!reader #mettaton ex x gn!reader #mettaton x gender neutral!reader #mettaton ex x gender neutral!reader #mettaton #mettaton ex #undertale fanfic #undertale fan fic #ut fanfic #ut fan fic #mettaton fanfic #mettaton fan fic #mettaton ex fanfic #mettaton ex fan fic #mtt x reader #mtt ex #mtt ex x reader #utdr #utdr fanfic #utdr fan fic #tooth rotting fluff #hurt/comfort

[septimusmoonlight]

Anonymous: I think you might be the reason i'm into ear/brain fucking. It's not something I've ever thought about before but now I'm obsessed with it. Specifically with it being long, drawn out and painful. It should hurt having someone stuff their cock in your ear. Something forced into your brain against your will. but it would hurt in a good way As it fucked you (cock tentacle doesn't matter), it would obviously damage your brain. making you dumber and dumber they more they fuck you. Your eyes start rolling back, your tongue hangs out drooling. Once they're done they cum in your head leaving basically braindead, but now you're ready for the next cock to fuck your head. Now it's all you can think about.

Ooh, yes, it should be painful~ It should hurt, and the pain should only make the entire experience better <3

Ears aren't meant to accommodate cock, which honestly has its appeal already. A tight hole, not designed for penetration and yet oh so ripe for it? That's a target. And it's one I unfortunately find out about when someone talks me into trying it despite my reservations; I'm interested enough for it to be an intriguing prospect, even though I know it will be uncomfortable. A cock forcing its way deeper into my skull hurts, of course, but there's just something, something about it that gets me throbbing. The person fucking me holds my head still as they push deeper, ignoring my uncomfortable shifting to resolutely spread out a hole never meant to be fucked.

Eventually, painfully, they stuff enough of themselves inside to reach their target. The sensation of cock meeting neurons is something I'm entirely unprepared for. A jolt of undiluted input, just sheer physical feeling rattles me to my core, followed by another; the pain is reduced to a dull ache, a current in the background that serves to elevate the rest of the experience while the person fucking my skull works their way deeper. Brain matter gives way so easily that it's almost like I was meant to take something like this - a thought that comes out of nowhere. Or maybe a thought that comes from the literal cock on the mind I'm experiencing.

Shoving aside connections and chunks of matter to slide deeper, the person at my head doesn't take long to get hilted. They groan in satisfaction, adjusting positions slightly while my consciousness starts to wriggle uncomfortably, aware that I'm in danger, somehow; unfortunately for the lucid part of my brain, the part currently yielding to sexual pleasure is much louder, and much more in control. The first thrust does away with almost all of my reservations, and the next serves to wipe away what remains of my trepidation. It's all too easy to start fucking my soft, warm brain, the matter in my skull cavity squelching and sloshing as it's pulverized into a useless sludge that used to make me human.

On the outside, the damage to my head is clear. I'm already moaning wordlessly, my eyes rolled back in my head as my hand works furiously at my cunt. I'm so dripping wet that I can stick three fingers inside myself with ease, jamming a fourth in with little hesitation while I slouch to the side, into the grasp of the person reducing me from a human being into a moaning fleshlight. It still hurts, on some level, but I've stopped caring about the pain; in fact, I welcome it at this point. It's just a part of the experience, and the experience is one I'm relishing at every turn, now that I don't have any other choice. Now that I don't have the presence of mind to do anything else.

With a moaning slut under their control and a tight hole milking them dry, the person fucking my skull doesn't take long to cum after I start drooling, my tongue lolling out and my eyes rolling back in my head like I'm getting railed normally instead of brainfucked. That's really the nail in the coffin for what remains of my psyche. Once able to complain and think for myself, the only thing I'm capable of now is begging to have a cock in my head at all times, something to get rid of the rest of that pesky gray matter leftover. I only want cock and cum to fill my empty skull cavity.

Luckily, there are plenty of people willing to oblige. All it takes is a few phone calls.

#Originally posted August 14th 2023 #asks #anonymous #my writing #nsft text #patreon.com/septimusmoonlight #brainfucking #mindbreak #pain #anon writing

[zirawrites]

Y'know that one Ranbo scene where he *firmly grasps* this one dudes windpipe and rips it out? How would the Nuka-World faction heads react to Sole ripping the F*** out of Colter's throat in an incredibly brutal fashion?

I wrote this entire reaction not reading NUKA WOLRD FACTION HEADS. I’ve admittedly not played Nuka World since it came out, so I wouldn’t be able to write them anyways. So enjoy Sole’s companions reacting. Oopsy.

Cait: “Fuckn’ brutal, Sole!” Cait took a step backwards, forcing herself not to look away from Colter’s body. “I mean, it serves the raidin’ bastard right. But ya didn’t need to make a spectacle of yourself.”

Codsworth: Codsworth shivered, his mechanical body rattling against the screws that held him together. He had seen Sole fight ferals with their bare hands. Snack on human corpses. Threaten settlers into submission. But this was new. And oddly personal. “He won’t be spouting off any nonsense now,” Codsworth noted. “Shame. I quite liked his accent.”

Curie: Curie let out an uncharacteristically girly shriek. “Sole! Disgusting!” She shielded her eyes from the carnage. “That violence was completely unnecessary.”

Danse: Danse thought Colter was raider scum. He was a slaver and a bully and a menace to the Commonwealth. But did Sole have to act so savage? It would send a message to the factions, alright. Yet it wasn’t the one he wanted traced back to the Brotherhood. “I think we’ve done enough damage here, soldier.” Danse flinched before mustering the courage to place a hand on Sole’s shoulder. “Lets leave this godforsaken theme park before someone recognizes the Brotherhood symbols on our power armor.”

Deacon: Deacon couldn’t say he hadn’t been as merciless on raiders when his old gang killed Barbara. But this violence was unlike his partner. He worried something had snapped in Sole’s psyche, and the pieces might not fit together like they used to when he swept them up. “Well that’s one way to win a fight.” Deacon shoved his hands in his pockets. He didn’t even have a joke for this. “Remind me not to have a lover’s quarrel with you, boss.”

Hancock: The ghoul whistled lowly. First Sole shot Finn and now they ripped out Colter’s throat. He was impressed by their brutality. Finally, someone who got things done in the Commonwealth. “Can’t say I’d have done the same, but I like your style.” Then he handed them a can of jet. They desperately needed to learn how to relax.

MacCready: “Oh shit!” MacCready pawed desperately at his face. “I think some of it got in my eye!” He was one for long-ranged, clean kills. Sole completely freaked him out.

Preston: “What the hell was that?!” Preston’s neck and cheeks flushed red. “We want to clean up the Commonwealth, but we’re not savages.” He pointed to Colter’s mutilated body. “That isn’t the future, Sole. Or at least, it’s not one I want to be part of.”

Piper: Piper nearly jumped out of her coat. Sole’s hands were covered in Colter’s blood, and it took everything in her not to fall to her knees. “Did you just... grab his throat out?” She gagged. “Oh gosh, I think I’m gonna be sick.”

Nick: “Great. Just great.” Nick wiped at the wet blood on his coat. “Because the Commonwealth is full of dry-cleaners.” He was actually furious at Sole’s savagery, but he doubted even his harshest scolding could get through to them.

X6-88: “Fuck.” X6 took a respectful step backwards to avoid Colter’s blood from pooling at his feet. And there was a lot of blood. “I didn’t see that coming. I bet neither did he.”

#fallout 4 #fallout 4 reactions #nick valentine #piper wright #fallout deacon #maccready #preston garvey #paladin danse #fallout cait #fallout curie #codsworth #hancock #x6 88

[hylianmewmew]

maybe i do: ch 2 messy hair and stolen glances

read ch 1 here ♡ read ch 3 here

Link was escorted into the throne room by Rivan and another Zora guard who pushed open the massive pearl and lapis lazuli encrusted doors. Link picked up on the shock that echoed through the room, here he was in all his abysmally pathetic glory. There was a new figure sitting to the side of who he recalled was Prince– no King Sidon. There was a foreign feeling in Link’s chest, though he couldn’t place the emotion.

He stood up from his formal bow after the guards had announced him, after the formalities he was gonna crash so hard. There was nothing that drained him more than being around people, acting formal and composed, and being asked about his “adventures” and gushing about what a great hero and person he was. He wasn’t either of those things. He was rash, abrasive, selfish and an overall mess all of which he had to hide from the entirety of Hyrule. Not even Zelda had known the full extent of these feelings, even with her he felt an obligation to act like a different person despite how comfortable around her he felt. The truest emotions and the oh so heavy guilt he felt for all the death and loss he had caused were nestled deep within his psyche far far from anyone to see. He was the chosen hero of the Goddesses, the savior of Hyrule, and the one who had conquered Calamity Ganon. All of this was either a lie or the truth stretched so far they were basically lies too.

He snapped back to reality at the sound of an orchestra beginning to play. Oh, the banquet had started and somehow he had been so consumed by his wallowing in self pity he had been running on autopilot thanks to the amount of events he had been forced to attend with Zelda. He was also somehow mid conversation with Bazz, the captain of the Zora guard. 

“... and then King Sidon had burst through the doors drunk as all hell! I don’t think he’s ever going to recover from the embarrassment of completely interrupting his father’s council meeting after attending a party hosted by my guards.” Bazz choked back laughter in order to mostly retain his composure at this formal banquet. 

Sidon had looked up from his meal quickly glancing over at the mention of his name. He furrowed his brow at Link’s apparent blank, spaced out expression which Link quickly cleared and composed himself, setting his face to his usual stoic yet semi pleasant look as quickly as possible. He stared at his plate and picked at the food, his usual hearty appetite was replaced by a sickening feeling in his stomach, he needed to clear his head as soon as possible. Somehow he zoned out yet again and magically everyone began clearing the hall signaling the banquet is wrapping up for the night.

Link slinked his way out of the building and headed as swiftly as he could to his favorite spot in the Domain, the Veiled Falls. The fierce but somehow gentle roar of the falls lulled the disturbing thoughts that rattled around in his brain every waking hour. He sat down on the edge of the pond the falls fed into, pulling off his boots and socks and stuck his feet in the cold water. Despite it nearing fall the air was still warm and sweet after the sun had set. Watching the fireflies dance and bob through the air, his mind calmed. This, this is what he loved about Lanayru: the fresh air that smelled and felt different from anywhere in Hyrule. Absolutely nothing could compare. He sat there for a few hours, letting the spray from the falls douse his messy hair and his feet go numb from the frigid water. Boots in hand, he trudged back to the guest room that had been prepared for him. The room was small, he had specifically requested the smallest room that was tailored for non-Zora guests who couldn’t use the sleeping pools. He threw his boots in the corner with the rest of his belongings and went to take a much needed bath.

⟡ ⟡ ⟡

He woke up to the sun burning his retinas as soon as he opened his eyes, clearly he had forgotten to undo the curtains. The bed was surprisingly comfy for being as hard as it looked. Wanting a few more moments in a real bed, which he hadn’t slept in for several days he pulled the comforter over his head and dozed off again. That was until there was a brisk knock at the door. He grumbled internally and heaved himself up out of bed. Whoever was waiting outside was very impatient as there was another brisk knock. Link scurried to the door not bothering to smooth his wild bed head or throw on more presentable clothes, he typically dressed in his most ragged clothes not wanting to throw out clothing that was still technically functional. He opened the door just enough to see who was outside, fucking Goddesses help me of course it’s the Zora king. Sidon waved, seemingly unbothered by Link’s severely unkempt appearance.

“Greetings dear friend! I just wanted to personally invite you to breakfast and make sure you were doing well. I had noticed you looked a bit out of sorts last night. If you need to talk about anything I’m here as your friend as a shoulder to cry on so to speak.” Sidon absentmindedly rubbed the back of his neck, his head tail swaying slightly.

Link wiped the puzzled look off his face quickly, he had no idea the King thought they were so close. He didn’t remember visiting the Domain that often, perhaps Sidon just got easily attached? Regardless of the reason why there was definitely something Link was not aware of. Mentally shrugging off the thought he nodded before signing to Sidon, “Let me get a little more presentable. I’ll meet you in the dining hall? I think I remember where that is.”

“Actually, my family and I have invited you to our personal dining area for a more secluded breakfast. I remember you not liking the attention from the masses. I’ll wait here and escort you if you would be so willing for me to do so.” 

With a hesitant nod, Link spun around and closed the door to scrape himself together for a breakfast with the Royal family. Link took the fastest bath of his life and furiously scrubbed his travels off his body. Despite having managed to bathe last night he still felt too unkempt to be in the presence of royalty again. He rifled through his belongings, looking for something decent to wear. All of his nicer clothes he had ditched back in his old house in Hateno, the memories of him being forced to wear Hylian regalia while serving Zelda and the Hylian Royal Guard was too painful not to mention a waste of space and weight on his near constant travels across Hyrule. The best he had was his champion’s tunic and a somewhat ragged pair of trousers. Good enough. Hoping he hadn’t taken an outrageous amount of time, Link slid out the door and was greeted by Sidon who didn’t seem at all bothered waiting for Link to get ready.

“Well shall we?” Sidon motioned for Link to walk by his side and they took a path Link had never seen before. The walls were etched in Zora writings accompanied by simplistic drawings of historical events. Link stopped when he noticed the familiar symbol of the Triforce and the Master Sword resting in wait. 

“This is the Calamity isn’t it?” Link signed in awe of the sheer size of the depiction of one of Hyrule’s greatest tragedies, one that he had lived through and caused. His ears drooped ever so slightly, the waves of negative emotions rushing back with more force than a tsunami. He hesitated before tracing a finger over the Triforce. So much for embodying the Triforce of Courage. Fucking coward. He looked up at Sidon who had been hovering just behind Link, patiently waiting for Link to continue moving. The king was staring at something, in Link’s direction… his hand shot up towards his hair. Fuck. In Link’s frenzy getting ready earlier he hadn’t really bothered brushing or even finger combing his hair instead opting for a frantic towel dry and rushing out the door. What a disastrous mess he must look like. 

Link heard Sidon muttering something about Link and wavy hair? He chose to ignore this, not wanting to think about the Zora KING judging his appearance. Instead, Link turned away from the wall of pictographs. At this point they were close enough to the Royal family’s personal dining hall Link could hear the King-Father Dorephan’s bellowing laughter echoed through the empty marbled halls. He and Sidon walked the remaining paces and entered the much smaller than expected room. Dorephan’s eyes lit up at the sight of his son accompanied by Hyrule’s hero.

“Welcome dear Hero Link!” Dorephan motioned to an empty seat already laid out with two or three courses of breakfast. While Link’s stomach grumbled quite audibly he still hesitated to begin eating until he felt expectant eyes from several people. His insides churned from the oncoming spurt of anxiety, but forced himself to take a bite of salmon which was buttery soft and seemed to melt in his mouth as he chewed. Instantly, he relaxed a little bit and as politely as possible began to shovel food in his mouth. He took another bite of  the grilled salmon and pondered if the taste rivaled his own to which he couldn’t decide and simply finished off what was left on his plate.

The breakfast conversations were polite but very light in substance. Mid-bite Link glanced up at Sidon chatting away with a green manta-type Zora, who wore a silver circlet on her head encrusted with sapphires. The royal gemstone. For some reason which Link hadn’t quite figured out, he choked on his bite of food and tried to play off the coughing fit that had sent him into by chugging his goblet of water.

“Hero Link! Are you alright?” The green Zora exclaimed, reaching to the center of the table for the water pitcher which she quickly passed to him. Link gratefully refilled the cup and chugged yet another goblet of water finally regaining his composure. Her face was laced with what Link could tell was genuine concern. To which Link chalked up to if the hero of all of fucking Hyrule had asphyxiated in the presence of the Zora royal family surely public relations with the other peoples wouldn’t be good. 

The rest of breakfast passed by without many other incidents. As Link was beginning to exit into the hall Sidon beckoned Link over to where he and the green Zora stood. “Link! I would like to formally introduce you to Queen Yona, my newlywed wife! We just recently got back from our honeymoon trip to Lake Hylia.

The ringing in Link’s ears became deafening, but again why? He thought he barely knew the Prince, no, King. Link reminded himself again of that fact, just another sign that the world was changing and leaving Link far, far in the past. Link snapped himself back to the present just in time for the weight of Queen Yona and King Sidon’s expectant looks honed in on him.

“Congrats! I had no idea you two were even engaged let alone married or I would’ve sent a wedding gift.” His hands fumbled through the signs, giving the couple a feeble smile of congratulations. 

Sidon smiled, “Why just knowing all of Hyrule is safe within your hands is enough of a present for the both of us. Peace truly is a gift that couldn’t be more treasured.”

Yona politely excused herself, explaining that there were some other tasks that required her attention but she would see them again at dinner if Link was so inclined to join the family again. She gave Sidon a gentle pat on the shoulder before leaving them completely alone in the dining hall. 

“I just so happen to have been given the all clear on my schedule for the day so I can show you around and spend some time outside of my duties. Would you like to join me?” 

Link cautiously nodded, mentally shrugging. It seemed like a quiet retreat in the more secluded sections of Lanayru would be more than impossible at this point. It was whatever, he told himself, it’s not like this would be the end of the great hero of Hyrule. Maybe this would end up being good for him.

#legend of zelda #the legend of zelda #tloz #sidlink #maybe i do #link has ptsd and surviors guilt #link is nonspeaking and uses hylian version of sign language #link #sidon #sidon x link #loz #mew fics

[sacrificethemtothesquid]

This is a quick rant because of something I saw in the news and I’m suddenly furious about it. 

“The inmates are running the asylum” is a complete and absolute bullshit gutpunch of a sentence.

First of all, the concept of the asylum is outdated and offensive - asylum versus psych unit or treatment center, inmates versus patients or clients - but that’s not the part I’m mad about. I have a diagnosis of bipolar II, panic disorder and ADHD. I am also a member of a peer-driven mental health organization. What does that mean? It means everyone in my local chapter from the executive board to the weekly group attendees are all peers: people living with mental health challenges. Some of us have professional training, but we do not act in a professional capacity. We are volunteers working side-by-side WITH our peers. 

We are the inmates and we are running the asylum. 

It’s early and I haven’t had my caffeine yet so I don’t have studies to cite or statistics to rattle off, but behavioral health programs benefit greatly from having peers. We understand what it’s like to need those services. We’ve been there. We are capable of advocating for ourselves in a way that allies never can. As the slogan goes: nothing about us without us. We are people with opinions and rights. We are people, full stop.

Gah. I’m sure this is incoherent and there are people around me who are much more articulate. I don’t consider myself an advocate. If my organization were a D&D party, they’re the tanks and fighters, setting themselves out front to bear the brunt of the action. I’m a cleric: I’m a trainer. I’m a support. I’m not the one to give the speeches, but fuck if I’m not mad.  

Bottom line? Don’t use that sentence. It isn’t thoughtful and it isn’t kind. 

#yes it was elongated muskrat who said it #but other people say it too #and they shouldn't #mental health

[robynlilyblack]

Shes underwater again - Send me a situation along with a character and i’ll write a lil blurb (e.g sirius black x shy! fem! reader on their first date) could you pretty please do y/n is peters girlfriend but the boys haven't told her about the animagus situation yet. In defence against the dark arts her boggart turns into an army of rats and lil petes like oh no what do I do now meanwhile remus is trying so hard not to laugh and sirius and james have lost it and y/n's is so confused at how they find her boggart so funny (I love peter but rats freak me out so bad I can't even go near hamsters or just anything even rat like just eww)

Nope

Peter Pettigrew x fem! reader 

Summary: Peters finds out his girlfriends boggart

Warning: swearing

A/n: 0.6k words, the idea of a swarm rats reminded me a little of dishonoured, this is such a funny idea too I love it! Thank you for the request, I hope you like it x

Navigation | Marauders Era Characters Masterlist

You sighed in relief as you and the boys finished the last of the glass containers in the DADA classroom “Can we go?” Sirius asks your professor

“Not quite, since you all decided to skip yesterday’s lesson to turn the Ravenclaw’s quidditch gear pink…” you all start sniggering before shutting up as the man glares “…you lot missed our lesson on boggarts, therefore one of you must volunteer to cast the Riddikulus charm on theirs…only then are you free to leave” he says smugly looking at the five of you “So, who will it be?”

Remus and Sirius collapse into themselves, you knew why, James and your boyfriend also looked a little nervous so you decided to go for it, hoping they’ll remember that the next time you ask them for something “I do it” you volunteer

Stepping towards the rattling wardrobe you pulled out your wand, you really had no clue what was going to come out “Ready?” he asks

“No” you half scoff gaining chuckles from your friends and a small eye roll from your professor

He opens the wardrobe, at first nothing happens and a part of you hoped the boggart decided to go on vacation, but then little things started scurrying out of it…rats! A swarm of them coming towards you, nope fuck this, you think as you scramble onto the nearest desk yelling as you go

“Ew no, ew…no no no nope-ity nope” you squeal shaking as you stand on the desk the rats running around in a circle around it “Please do something” you bounce up and down on the desk hoping your friends would help but they’re…laughing?

Sirius and James have lost it, bent over in contagious laughter while Remus’ lips are pressed together as he tries his best to contain his, your boyfriend however looks mildly nervous, okay mild was an understatement, maybe was he scared of them too?

“Pete help please!” you plead gaining his attention, fluttering your eyelashes his face softens 

“Use the charm pumpkin, imagine them wearing little hats or something” he suggests even if there is an evident lump in his throat

You nod taking your wand and picturing all of them with little top hats “Riddikulus” you say but nothing happens, you bounce a little more on the balls of your feet psyching yourself up before trying again “Riddikulus…yes!” you celebrate as the rats run back into the wardrobe with cute little top hats…they still freaked you out but at least they looked amusing now

“Well done miss Y/l/n…” you teacher nods closing the wardrobe and locking it “Now get off of my desk and out of my class room” he eyes you and the boys, his tone light hearted

Sirius and James turn to Peter as you slip off of the desk bashfully “I know what I’m buying you for Christmas” James teases

“Oh…” Sirius taps James arm quickly “…get a monocle too”

“Shut up” Peter hushes as you join his side “Hi Pumpkin” he gives you a cringy smile

“That was something” you giggle “I’m getting you lot back for laughing at me though” you point at them before turning to your boyfriend “Can we get out of here rats give me the heebie-jeebies” you shiver clutching onto his arm making the boys chuckle “Stop it” you pout

“Course” Peter says giving the boys a weird look as he heads to the door the boys parting and bowing as he passes 

“Right this way oh gentle Pete” Sirius says

“I tip my hat to you” James gestures as if he has a hat earing a discreet elbow to the gut as Peter passes him

As you exit you turn to Peter “What was that about?” you ask confused

He shakes his head kissing your cheek “Nothing, don’t worry your pretty little head about it” he says and as you hug him his brain goes into overdrive, maybe we’ll just never tell her

Thank you for reading 💛

#peter pettigrew x reader #peter pettigrew x you #peter pettigrew x y/n #peter pettigrew #peter and you #peter and y/n #marauders fic #maraders era #marauders x reader #robyns600celebration

[helloliriels]

loved what you made of my last fake fic title so here is another one! eeeeek!

product in your hair

hehhehe

*hugs from a turtle* (as always no pressure tho!)

... ooohhhhhyeahhhh!!! Have sum real fluff this time, as promised!!! Haha ☺️😄💕

Product In Your Hair

John ran his fingers through his hair, making sure this was *more* ... waaaaay more product than he normally used!

If there was anything the genius hadn't picked up on yet - it was that John wasn't straight;

Wasn't dating anymore;

And was about to come undone every time he was around his gorgeous flatmate ...

............................

John grinned devilishly. Looking at his reflection in the mirror with satisfaction. Then topped it all of with a nice bit of setting spray.

There.

Time to play a game of 'deductions' with the world's greatest detective.

.

He took a deep breath ...

Psyched himself up ...

And headed out the door.

........................

"John, you've really outdone yourself tonight," Lestrade beamed, leaning in to be heard over the noise at the pub, "do you think he's noticed yet?"

John's eyes automatically rose to find Sherlock. Then he winked at Lestrade, catching Sherlock's eye from across the room as he leaned back. "Yeah ..." he nodded, "I think he's catching on, Greg - finally! Did I make it obvious enough?!"

He practically glowed.

Beaming with pride.

.

"Thank GAWD! At long last!" Lestrade gave him a hearty pump on the shoulder. Smiling up at John's reclining figure. At ease. At home at last, in his own skin ... "Seeing you like this ... makes me proud John. I'm so happy-!"

Sherlock was suddenly wedged between them.

Eyes dialled in to the contact he had just interrupted. Razor sharp gaze on Greg's fingers, until they pulled back to his own glass ...

.

John could not comprehend quite how Sherlock had managed to move across the room so quickly, without their notice?

Let alone why ... ??

.

"Ah, Gordon. Good to know you had time this evening to hang out with the cool kids. No cases requiring your overworked and underpaid attentions? Or perhaps you came tonight to request my assistance ...? Continually out-of-your depth, as always. I hope you were giving John all the details ..."

Sherlock’s deductive insults began rattling out - rapid fire - and John covered his face in mortification. Quietly dying a little inside as the genius prattled on and on ...

"Did I notice you were leaning into the bar more heavily than normal, Geoff? Your stomach was making enough noise to rival this frankly alarming establishment," he continued, "probably not the best idea, these chips ..." as he moved them out of reach ...

John zoned out. Ignoring the words being spoken. Hearing only the sound of Sherlock's tone. Cutting it's way through all else ...

Sherlock was jealous ...

Sherlock was JeALoUS ...

Sherlock was ... ?!

.

John was an idiot.

.

He groaned into his hands and a frantic giggle escaped, realizing how stupid he'd been not to just SAY something! To stick like GLUE to Sherlock's side until the braniac actually caught on!

"... perhaps we should all move over there?" Sherlock pointed to a booth nearer the loos, "Does your doctor know you're developing Ulceritive Colitis? I DO hope they've suggested treatments for someone of your advancing age ..."

How could a genius be this thick!?! ... John wondered ... even as the words spewing forth became more viscious and belittling. John came to and realized he had better make it STOP. And NOW!

"Sherlock?" He tried quietly.

".. you really should see someone for the thinning hair and extra weight you've been putting on, too. John and I agreed it's at least 15 pounds-"

"SherLOCK ..." John tried again. Growling.

Sherlock continued regardless.

"SHERLOCK!!" John shouted!

Catching everyone by surprise.

.

You could hear a pin drop.

John's small stature seemed to suddenly take up the whole room.

Sherlock stared down at the floor. Pursed lips. Hands held behind his back.

A schoolboy. Caught.

Embarrassment. Anger. Frustration. Hurt. Panic. Flashed in those eyes as he dared to meet John's commanding gaze ...

.

"That's enough." John calmed his voice down. Having the attention he needed now, and having ceased the damage from continuing ...

The noise in the room picked back up. A backdrop drowning out any further attention towards them alone.

John stepped over and pulled Sherlock aside.

"Bloody git!" he seethed, "you didn't have to go at Lestrade like that!" He still held on to Sherlock’s arm, tugging him along. Sherlock was not protesting. Not arguing. Just letting John lead.

John stopped. Took a deep breath. Pinched the bridge of his nose and gave Sherlock a second before physically turning him so they faced each other ...

"You noticed," John stated. Nodding for agreement, "I assume you noticed my hair??"

Sherlock nodded.

Swallowing.

.

"And you drew some conclusions?" John continued.

Again, a nod.

.

"I want to hear you say them," John commanded. Arms folded.

"You put product in your hair." Sherlock announced it as if he had just declared the death of a family member. "You've decided to embrace your bisexual nature and moved in on the nearest male of approachable target age."

.

"Jesus, Sherlock?!" John laughed, incredulous at how close ... and yet how FAR from correct the deductions were!!

... He immediately regretted it.

.

Sherlock looked at him, pained. Turning away.

.

"NOooOoo!" John declared. Grabbing and latching on to Sherlock's warm hand ...

"You're so close!" John praised, "Brilliant even! ... and yet ... yet you've overlooked the most obvious part of the equation??" John slipped his hand into Sherlock’s palm and pulled him close.

Arms snaking around the detectives hips.

Then he looked up with adoring eyes and waited ...

.

Sherlock stared at their connectedness. At the warmth of John on him.

On him.

On.

HIM.

.

Sherlock blinked.

"I'm apparently not being obvious enough?" John tsked, then holding Sherlock's face in his hands, pulled him down for an impromptu kiss...

"How's that for obvious?" He asked, not getting a reaction, "Didn't think I was after the belhop?" John pulled him into a kiss again! "The bar boy?" John teased, getting more cooperation and infinitely more blinks ...

"The guy playing billiards? Was I after him? Hmmm?" Sherlock met him halfway this time, greedily kissing John's lips like he was suffocating for air. Ironically making them both gasp and pant with the exertion.

"Now that's more like it!"

John grinned on reply, tugging Sherlock into the corner, where Sherlock quickly took over the lesson ...

.

"Oi! You two - get a room!" Greg cheered from the bar. Raising a glass to them both.

John and Sherlock both turned on him, shouting, "RUDe!" Then burst out laughing, holding onto each others sides as they doubled over with it ...

"Actually ..." John sobered, petting Sherlock's jacket lapel, and stealing a kiss by his ear whispered, "would you mind?"

Sherlock's eyebrows raised and he glanced towards the hotel lobby ...

A gleam in his eyes ...

.

Sorry this one took so long to answer! I wrote it like 3 different ways before I got what I was after! lol, I said I'd get to them all! 4 more to go!

#sherlock #johnlock #fake fic titles #ask games #liri answers #helloliriels #(not so) fake fic titles #on ao3 #over 100 and counting!