#but i prefer the feel of metal tools all the way. all the way.

[exculis]

i like knitting way more than crocheting and yet i own way more crochet hooks. fascinating.

[websterss]

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐁𝐔𝐆 — 𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐄 𝐖𝐀𝐋𝐓𝐄𝐑

𝐑𝐄𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐒𝐓𝐒: Can I do a request for Cole Walter where he and the reader are about to sleep together for the first but she figures that he just will hook up with her and go back to Erin. But he actually has feelings for her and he found out it is her first time ever so he makes sure to tell her that he actually has feelings for her. (Some mature content if you’re cool with that)😏

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒): Angst, fluff, only indication of smut at the end, no actual smut.

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 2,804

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Cole Walter x fem!Reader

𝐀/𝐍: I hope you enjoy it! I don't how to feel about this lmfao. Listen I suck at smut so I'm sorry there isn't any my love. Also, I don't do taglists anymore guys!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

If there was one thing you couldn’t let go of it was trying and not being able to have a conversation with Cole. You found it difficult since he had been avoiding you like the plague. He’d brush past your shoulder in the halls, and if you locked eyes in public he was already walking the other way. Your friendship has been one for the history books. A long-lasting friendship since elementary, but you wondered when and if your bond was soon to expire. You wanted to keep trying though because trying meant you wouldn’t have to lose Cole for good. 

You had had your doubts the second Katherine had invited you to attend Haley and Will’s wedding. Your doubts clouded your mind as you felt your presence and attendance would cause a great deal of stress or frustration for Cole. Seeing as how he didn’t want to talk to you, you did your best to stay far away, sit far, but even then you watched as he left in the middle of the dancing. Heading towards the barn. You had wished you had gone after him sooner, but you waited, waited till everyone was asleep. Anxiety was all you felt as you faced his workshop shed. The light was on indicating that he was in there but if it hadn’t been for the banging and clanging of tools against metal you would have assumed otherwise. It was only one foot after the other. You thought to yourself. Some part of you told you to run and turn, but he was alone and in his element, this would have to be your only time to get your chance. You had to be brave, and strong, but you were not at the moment so you went head first, heart second. You had opened the door and made your way inside. You complicated whether to make your presence known but it ended up being one hesitant knock followed by two certain ones. You had barely made your way into the area before his voice made you halt in your tracks. 

“Didn’t expect you to be hanging around still. It’s late, shouldn't you be on your way home by now?” 

“H-How’d you know it was me?” You gape at him like a fish out of water, not having expected him to speak first. 

“You’re the only person I know that knocks after walking into a room.” He continued to twist a bolt. “Plus you do things in threes.”

You gaped at him. “No, I don’t.” 

You watched as he turned his eyes towards you, a shit-eating grin on his eyes as he leaned to his left. His hand curls into a fist as he reenacts your entrance. Tapping against the metal for effect.

One… two three. 

“Three times.” He smirked, raising his left brow. You wanted to slap him then and there. 

“Didn’t peg you as the type to pay attention to things like that?” 

“Like what? Like how you scrunch your nose and close your eyes when the sun is in your face, and continue to have a conversation like that. Or how you like to listen instead of speaking when you’re in a group. It's just how observant you are. Or how you do things like knock three times after entering a room.” He chuckles, pointing and mocking where you entered. “Or how you don’t ask or expect anything from anyone because you feel like you’re being a burden. Which you’re not. Or how you go out of your way to help others so much, even though some people don’t deserve to be blessed by your kindness. Or how you prefer bikes to cars cause it means you're helping out the planet a little bit more. Or how you prefer Custard instead of Murphy now because when we were younger Alex said you’d be fine riding him…but then you fell off and you got hurt, and it took a long time to get you to trust us again, and get you back on a saddle. Or… how you’ve been nothing but sweet to me when all I’ve done is treat you like shit.” He slams the hood of his truck down causing you to flinch. Regret fills him instantly. “Or…how you hate loud noises because it reminds you of all the yelling that happens at home.” If your heart could stop you’d have collapsed dead on the floor before him. But it hadn’t, it only skipped and increased in speed because you never thought he'd be so attentive to you. 

“Still don’t peg me as the type to pay attention to things now?” He opened his arms out and gave a tight-lipped grin. 

“What happened to us?” 

“I don’t know what you mean.” He brushes past you like he’s done so time after time again. He walked over to his work table looking for a torque wrench knowing the one he needed was over by the truck in his toolbox. He just couldn’t face you right now. 

“Cole…will you look at me, please? I’ve been trying to talk to you for months now and-“

“Have you seen my torque wrench anywhere I can’t find it?” He cut you off. 

“Cole, I’m serious, if you’d just give me a second-“

“Can we not do this tonight? I need to work on the truck okay? It needed more work after it broke down on me and Jackie the other day and I’d appreciate it if you-“

“Can you just look at me for once, dammit!” You walk over and bang your fist on the hood and flinch. You see his side profile first before his body follows, he raises a brow at you unimpressed. 

“On my truck.” He gestures to where your fist rests. 

“I have been trying and trying for so long now to get your attention. To talk to you.” You run your hands down your face. “Because I miss you…” You gesture an open hand to him. “I miss my best friend. I miss wanting to know how your day is going or if your knee has been hurting, but I can’t do those things because you don’t give me the time of day.” 

“I’ve been busy…” He shrugs. 

“Busy right? Yeah, I know what you've been up to.” You close your eyes. “Look Cole, I don’t know if I’ve done anything to make you want to avoid me but if I have then I’m sorry.” You let your head hang forward. “I don’t know what to do anymore…” You hear him before you feel his hands touch your skin gently. In a soft gentle caress, you can’t help but lean into his palm. “I’m sorry…” 

“Hey, you don’t have to be sorry for anything. I’ve been a jerk okay…I've been a shit friend and an even shit brother, but I’m working on it. I am. Things will be different. Okay, if my speech was anything to go off of, I meant every second of it. Meeting your person…When I met you, nothing, nothing else mattered to me. I should’ve realized it sooner too but when do I pay attention to you.” He joked slightly, causing you to roll your eyes. “I should've held you closer because as my mother likes to remind me constantly. You’re good for me, to me, and way out of my league…” Cole laughed lightly. “I guess what I’m trying to get at is I’m sorry…for everything. I know I don’t deserve to be forgiven for the way I’ve treated you.” 

“You don’t.” Cole retreats his hands from your face. Accepting that as your final word. He’d have walked off with a nod if you hadn’t given him the sweet smile he loves seeing on you. “It’s a good thing I forgave you two days ago then..” 

“Wait what?” 

“Thanks for fixing my bike by the way.” 

He breathes out a laugh, shaking his head in disbelief. “How did you know about that?” 

“I had to take Luna to the vet since she got out the night before, she came back with a limp, but that’s a story for another time. Anyway, your mom and I chatted and she assumed we were on good terms again and asked if you had given me my bike back yet. It didn't take long to put two and two together. That and I’ve been missing my bike for a week now.”

“Can’t trust her now.” He joked. 

“When did you even take it?” You shook your head.

“When did you start asking people for rides again?” He raised a brow at you but laughed as you went to playfully smack him for he was the reason for your lack of transportation. “I was driving the boys home from school when I saw you one day kneeling beside your bike. I wasn’t spying by the way, I just happened to see you in all your damsel ness…” He dragged out the s. 

“Right…” You squint your eyes at him in amusement. 

“I figured it could’ve been the chain since you complained about it falling out one time, so it was either that or the tires finally gave out because let’s face it, sweetheart, that thing was ancient.” He started walking backwards with a smirk. “It was supposed to be a surprise but I guess now is as good of a time as any.” He grabbed a hold of the sheet that covered it and yanked it off.

Your heart did stop then and there. You gasped quietly as a cherry red bike was presented before you. Cole rolled it over in front of you before pulling down the support lever. Though it had been the basket with a pink bow on it that caught your attention. It was beautiful.

“You fixed it.” You reached a hand out to touch it but left it hanging mid-air. Too scared to ruin it. Break it. “And…painted it?” You raised a confused brow at him.

“No. I got you a new one.” He grinned sheepishly as you looked up at him in shock. “The basket was a personal touch I added to it though. I thought you could use something to carry your backpack and books, and the flowers you deliver on Wednesdays. You’ve always carried your bag on your back so I thought this could help take that heavy weight off your shoulders.” 

“Cole…T-This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. Thank you…” His heart swelled as you flashed him a smile. You looked back to the bike…thinking he must’ve spent his paycheck on it. You couldn’t believe he’d done such a thing for you. 

“You’re welcome bug.” He nodded. “You deserve something nice. Plus your old bike was on its last limb. That and I thought it’d be good for me to get some exercise in. Work the leg out some more ya know. Believe it or not, I don’t remember the last time I ever rode a bike.” He chuckled. 

"Bug...You haven't called me that in a long time."

"It's my name for you..."

"Yeah, I know it is..." You mutter softly. You thought about the name for a second before your brows furrowed in confusion. “Wait if you got me a new one…What did you do with the old bike?”

“Ah thought you’d never ask. I fixed it.” He jogged back over to the corner. Rolling over the old rusted red one out. He swung a leg over the seat. “Thought you can use the company on Wednesdays.” 

“Keep me company huh?” 

“Yeah, I think it’s time I find a new hobby.” 

“Sulking bored you out.” 

“Among other things…” He shrugs. “I want things to be different.” He cleared his throat and held your gaze. 

“I’m happy for you Cole.” You nodded. 

“Anyway…Let’s test this bad boy.” He pedaled out a few feet then you both watched and heard as the clank of the chain fell out. It lay on the floor. You looked up in time to meet his gaze. You had to cover your mouth to keep you from laughing. 

“Thought you said you fixed it.”

“Yeah…The chain won’t stay. So expect a lot of stopping when we go out on them.” He gave a sheepish grin. 

“You took the old one.” You stated. Turning back to your new one with a new sense of warmth and longing. 

“You were due for a new one. No way I could keep letting you ride this thing. I mean, look at it!” He judged the rusted two-wheeler. 

“Hey don’t make fun. She held out for as long as she could.” 

His eyes flickered onto you, lingering on your eyes a little longer before he let his eyes roam to your heels, up to where your dress ended, then his eyes raked back up to your pouty lips. The accidental double entendre wasn’t lost on him. You had held out for him as long as you could too and he’d been nothing but an ass. 

“Yeah, she sure did…” He nodded slightly. You hold his gaze for a bit longer then look away. 

“For what it's worth. I appreciate you doing this for me.” You grew closer to him, a timid stance as you fiddled with your already chipping nail paint. “I don’t think I can show you just how thankful I am, but all I got is this.” You exhaled, then leaned over to press a kiss against the side of his cheek. Cole closed his eyes wanting the touch of your lips to linger on him a bit longer. You pulled away the slightest, your eyes flickering down to his lips before you averted your gaze. Cole’s chest rose and fell at the sudden change in the atmosphere. He often wondered what your lips pressed against his felt like. Thoughts and questions he probably shouldn’t have had like what did you taste like? What noises he could get out of you. He was hungry for your touch, and he wasn’t about to ruin the opportunity to do the one thing he longed for. 

You watched as he stood up from the bike, letting it lean on the support bar. You took a step back as he closed the distance between you two. His hand reached up to find its place again against your cheeks. “I’m gonna kiss you now.” Your breath hitched at his words. “Let me know if you’d like me to stop.”

“Okay…” You had closed your eyes shut as you waited for him to lean in. It was the barely-there brush of his lips that had you gasping for air. It was the effect he had on you. When he was sure you wouldn’t pull away from him, he slid his hand underneath your jaw holding you there as he walked you both to his work table. The wood had met you back as he knelt to pick you up. Your hands slid over and into his locks. Tugging him closer to you as he stood in between your thighs. 

“Say the word…” He pulled away from your lips kissing down your jaw, onto your neck. “And I’ll stop.” He breathed out as he took note of each sigh of contentment you let out. 

“D-Don’t stop. Please don’t stop.” You lifted his chin to have him look at you once more. You curled a hand into his hair and crashed your lips onto his.

“I won’t stop then.” He pecked your lips, pulling back in a teasing manner. You grabbed both sides of his face to press your mouths together, having enough of his playfulness. You just wanted him then and there. You knew you were in for a long evening hearing him unzip his slacks. His belt buckle following next.

“P-Promise this isn’t just a one-time thing. That this won’t be like Erin or any of the other girls you’ve been with. That you won’t leave after this. This is my first time after all.”

“Is that what’s worrying you?” He leaned in and pecked your lips sweetly. 

“Would you be upset if it was?”

“No. Thank you for being open and honest about your concerns to me. But I promise you this time it's different, with you it’s different. I feel something when I’m with you, and I don’t want to find out what my life will be like if you aren’t in it any time soon, but as long as you’re game. I’m in this for the long run.”

“I thought Cole Walter didn’t do relationships…” Cole knew you were only kidding by the teasing in your tone.

“Yeah well that Cole didn’t know what love felt like until he met you.”

“You love me?” You grin feeling that warmth spread over your heart once more. 

“I love you.” He nodded certainly.

[merlincmgirl]

Your Boys To The Rescue

Summary: You've somehow managed to get trapped in the refresher and it's up to your boys in the Torrent Company to come get you out.

Author's Note: So this is my first clone fic, and the first fic I've written in ages! I was heavily inspired by the tiktok (link below). Please be kind, I hope that I was able to capture everyone right. Can be seen as pre-relationship or platonic reader x torrent company.

Characters: Rex, Kix, Jesse, Fives, Hardcase, Tup, Dogma

Word count: 2020

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGe12t8Sr/

You were mortified. Absolutely mortified. Hearing the voices on the other side of the door, arguing between themselves was not making you feel any better. You desperately wanted to disappear but there was no chance of that, not while the kriffing refresher door was stuck.

It was just your luck you decided to shower in the refresher attached to your office. The work you had been doing was still piled high on your desk, and you thought a nice warm shower would be just the thing to relax you and prepare you for the unending amount of flimsi you had to go through. It had been going so well until you realised that you had left your clean uniform in your office and went to go get it, only a towel wrapped around you. A simple, honest mistake that was now costing you because the door was jammed. It refused to open, no matter how many times you had tried.

That had been when Captain Rex had knocked on your office door, wishing to talk to you about some report that you had sent over to him. Your desperation to get out of the refresher outweighed your pride as you banged loudly on the metal door, begging him to help you out and find a way to open the door. He had tried everything to open the door by himself, but after trying everything he could, he had to call in reinforcements.

Now, you were leaning against the counter, towel covering your modesty as Torrent Company tried to either break down the door (Hardcase had swiftly received a slap off someone for that suggestion); or slice the mechanics/electrics of the door to at least slide it open to get you out of there. That suggestion was greatly preferred.

“Mesh’la, how you doing in there?” Rex called through the door. He sounded quite close to it and you shuffled forward so that he could hear you better over the small curses of his men and the sound of tools.

“I’m fine Captain, just… bit cold in here” you admitted, rubbing up and down your arms to try and bring some warmth into them. It had been about half an hour since you got out of the shower, and the cool metal of the room was not helping you at all.

“We’ll warm you up as soon as you as we get you out of here” Hardcase assured, followed swiftly by a cry of pain.

“Hardcase!”

“What?! It was a joke! Lighten up a little Dogma!” Hardcase complained, not sounding a bit sorry about what he said. You couldn’t help but let out a small snicker, used to the clone’s brand of humour.

“Knock it off you two. How are we in getting this door open?” Rex rebuked, bringing them back on task.

“It’s not looking good. Looks like it might be a manual override” you heard Jesse admit quietly. Groaning at your misfortune, you began to pace up and down, as much as you could anyway in the tiny refresher. “Don’t worry, cyare, we’ll get you out of there soon” Jesse promised, not wanting to upset you even more.

“Boys, perhaps we should get a service droid in to fix it?” you suggested, leaning your head against the metal door. It was soothing and brought you out of your head a little.

“We’ve got this, cyar’ika! They teach us slicing in ARC training” Fives bragged, making his brothers groan and tell him to shut up.

“If that was the case, Rex would have been able to get me out. This rate, I’m going to have to give my briefings through the door dressed in a towel!” you complained, unable to help the little pout that pulled at your lips. It was the least you deserved, especially as you had a morning briefing with the Admiral and Generals.

“At least you’d look hot, cyar’ika!” Fives flirted with you, making you smile.

“Not helping Fives!” you chuckled, going back to pacing again.

There was a large creak before lots of cursing and cries of pain. “What happened?” you demanded, rushing to the door and trying to pry it open with your bare hands.

“These di’kuts pulled the wrong circuits and got shocked for their troubles!” a grumbled voice came from further away in your office. You knew that voice, even if it was the same as his millions’ of brothers. Kix was here. Rex must have called him when he had went to get the others.

“Your bedside manner needs work vod!” Jesse complained, shaking his head and going back to the door along with Fives and Hardcase.

“Rex! You called Kix? But I’m fine. I’m not hurt at all!” you argued with the Captain. Now there was even more people to witness your shame and embarrassment.

“Just a precaution, Mesh’la. You can’t be too careful” Rex answered, and you could already imagine the smirk on his face at that. You didn’t like to be checked over by the medics, especially if there were clones who were also injured. You would rather put them in front of you.

“Hey, I think we’ve got it. Stand away from the door ma’am” Tup soft voice warned you. It warmed your inside at how caring these boys was to you.

“Thanks Tup, but there’s not much room in here if it falls in” you informed him, standing as far back as you can.

“Oh wait a minute! I think that’s it!” Fives muttered, voice rising in excitement. By the force you hoped that they had finally got it.

“There’s a piece right there!” Hardcase pointed out, tinkling with the tools in his hand.

“You see that piece right there?” Dogma asked, leaning over his brothers’ shoulders to poke at it. Kix pulled him back before he could get sparked.

“Yeah, yeah, I see it. Hold on” Jesse grunted, trying to move around Hardcase to be able to fix it in place.

“Just hold it right there, no. Not there, di’kut, where I’m pointing! Tup keep the torch still!” Fives grumbled, as his brothers were not helping him at all. You sighed, it had been like this for half an hour, all of them sniping and snapping at each other.

“No, you have to pull it up to the side” Hardcase argued instead.

“I am keeping it still!” Tup added.

“Someone just get General Skywalker! I’m sure he’d be able to fix it in no time!” you begged, desperate to get out of the kriffing refresher and into bed to catch a few hours of sleep before you had to go back to work.

“Men!” Rex’s sharp voice cut through their argument. “Don’t worry mesh’la, I promise they’re nearly done. Just a few more minutes” Rex soothed, hearing how frazzled you were becoming with the situation.

Sighing heavily, you waited for the door to open. You loved these idiots, but god did you feel like killing them right now. They could have their arguments later, but all you wanted was to get out. You didn’t want to be stuck in a refresher all your life. There was plans on the horizon for your future, not dying in the refresher because of the kriffing door!

There was a loud twang and your heart leapt into your throat as you hoped it was the mechanism for the door. But still nothing happened. It kept stubbornly in it’s jam.

“I wouldn’t drive it in though” Dogma frowned, shaking his head at his brothers’ rough work with the delicate pieces of machinery.

“Shut up Dogma!” Jesse huffed back.

“He almost had it then!” Hardcase assured his brother, as the wire in front of them shifted back to where it wasn’t meant to be.

“Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Whoa! Don’t push it!”

“AHH FIVES! I said DON’T push it!” Jesse cried, as he almost had it again but it slipped through his fingers as Fives moved his screwdriver slightly.

“Well I thought you meant push it!” Fives complained, and you couldn’t help but laugh, burying your head into your hands. The vode always made you laugh, even in the direst of situations.

There was some rattling and without any resistance, the doors pulled apart, revealing the group of men by the door. Hardcase, Jesse, Fives and Dogma was squashed around the panel housing the controls. Tup standing behind them, torch in hand. Rex and Kix was standing in the doorway, both of them looking you over.

“Ooh!” you squeaked out, clutching onto your towel tighter.

Rex, realising that him and his men was getting a good look at you in your towel, quickly snapped out of his heated gaze and turned to address the men. “Eyes front and centre soldiers!” he barked out, making them snap to attention and face forward.

“Er… Captain… I’m still front and centre” you mumbled, heat rushing to your cheeks as Fives winked at you.

“Oh… right… sorry Mesh’la. Avert your eyes!” Rex ordered, voice wavering slightly. If you didn’t know any better, you could have sworn that the Captain’s cheeks were becoming a little redder.

“Hey, cyar’ika, how are you feeling? Any shaking? Signs of hypothermia?” Kix asked, jumping straight into his medic role as he came over to scan you.

“How come he gets to look?” Hardcase complained, making you blush even more.

“Because I’m a medic, and a professional! You might want to look that up, vod!” Kix retorted, before turning back to you. “Anyway, are you experiencing any symptoms of dizziness, nausea?” Kix questioned, running an eye over you as you shivered slightly.

“I’m fine. Just a bit dizzy and tired… and hungry” you admitted, rubbing the back of your neck abashedly.

“Hmm, we should get you sitting down and something to help warm you up” Kix nodded, turning to his commanding officer. Rex nodded, instructing Tup to go and get you something warm from the mess hall.

“Thank you guys, I don’t know what I would do without you” you bid the troopers behind Kix. Tup nodded swiftly and hurried out the room, the back of his neck colouring.

“Come sit down” Rex encouraged, hand coming over to your elbow to help guide you into your office and onto the couch that you had smuggled in with the men’s help last time that you were planet-side.

Rex and Kix helped you to sit down, Kix busying with making sure that you were okay and not hiding anything. “Honestly Kix, I’d tell you if I weren’t doing good. I’m just a bit cold, that’s all. I promise, nothing to worry about” you assured, not noticing the towel fall open on your thigh.

Rex coughed, making his men spin around, mumbling apologies and excuses not to look your way. “I think that’s enough gawking for one night. You’re dismissed” Rex stated, crossing his arms and standing in front of you, trying to block you from sight.

“Wait! Before you go, you’ll have to let me know how I can repay you for this” you called after them, resting your hand on Rex’s back to help push him gently to one side so you could see your rescuers.

“You can buy us a drink at 79’s if you really want” Jesse suggested, making you beam. That was an easy thing for you to do to repay them for their kindness and help.

“Done!” you agreed, before you remembered a conversation with General Kenobi last time you were on shore leave with the 212th. “Wait! I thought you got drinks free at 79s!” you frowned, as they were nearly out the door.

“Oh the beer we do. The cocktails… well that’s all on you now cyare” Fives teased, before pushing Dogma and Jesse out the door in front of him.

You gaped after their retreating forms. What had you just gotten yourself into?

“I hope you have a lot of money, ad’ika” Kix shook his head, finishing his checks on you and pulling the scanner down.

“Because they’re going to bleed you dry, Mesh’la” Rex chuckled wryly, amused at your surprised at being played by his men.

[sins0fthefather]

Wrath.

Jeff the Killer HCs:

General HCs:

Full Name: Jeffrey Alexander Woods (Only responds to Jeff though. Best case scenario if you call him his full name is he’ll ignore you, worst case scenario is him flipping his shit on you)

Age: 22-25 (Based on where in the story a character study/fic takes place)

Birthday: September 22 (Older than Liu by 2 years)

Wasian— Father is Chinese, mother is a born n’ raised Texan

Biromantic, Demisexual

Has autism, C-PTSD, BPD (contributor to his auditory hallucinations), NPD, ASPD, and BDD

Right Handed

6’1 (185~ cm)

Covered in burn scars, most noticeably on his chest, forearms, and back

He uses white facepaint, it makes his face’s silhouette look “cleaner” in his eyes

His cuts have healed up for the most part, although he’ll have moments where he relapses and cuts at them again. The ends will also sometimes tear if he does something like laugh too hard.

Very touchy with other people, but he despises being touched first. He prefers to initiate physical contact- both because of the control aspect of it and because of his general distrust of others.

His sense of humor waxes and wanes from extreme condescension to the most morbid sentences you’ve ever heard. Half of the time it doesn’t even sound like a joke.

Reckless driver, cursed with terrible road rage

Smokes cigarettes, his brand of choice is Marlboro

Drinks vodka straight as if it were water

I feel like his favorite band would be Tool or Slipknot. His music taste is just metal and dad rock.

Was brought up in a Catholic school for most of his life, although he obviously doesn’t keep up with the practice anymore. This is a big catalyst for why he develops a god complex however since he “has authority over life and death”— something unique only to gods from what he was taught.

Very observant of the people around him. He memorizes speech patterns, demeanors, even the way people walk. He’s gotten to the point where he can read people and their intentions well before they’re explicitly stated, making it much easier for him to spot a lie. However this also makes it much easier for him to tell when he’s truly pushing somebody’s buttons, and there’s nothing he loves more than pushing people past their limit.

Always stealing glances of himself in any mirror he walks past

He’s an opportunistic killer. Limiting himself to patterns clashes with the creativity and the thrill of the moment to him. However, there are specific elements of a kill he will often repeat if the mood strikes him. An example of this would be often including strangulation (albeit usually not the direct cause of death) to reflect his acquired need for control in all moments of his life. Sometimes he will also pose bodies in a “prayer” position to call back that god complex I mentioned.

He doesn’t always kill people immediately. If someone catches his eye, usually because he finds them beautiful in some aspect, he’ll take it a step further. He has no problem with being patient when the situation arises for it- stalking the person, learning their habits and schedules, the whole shebang. He’ll then slowly start to ruin said person’s life, isolating them through the slaughter of those closest to them and destroying any sense of peace and security they once had. He’s the sound that goes -bump- in the night. He’ll toy with his food until he eventually grows bored, disposing them like all the rest. After all, how dare someone else try to be beautiful in his presence- a punishment of the highest order is necessary.

His anger can be very… explosive. He doesn’t stick around very long for enough people besides victims to see it, but it can be as unpredictable as his own kills. It’s worse when he’s silent in his anger however, since with the former you at least have enough of a warning to brace yourself.

Backstory-Centric HCs:

(TW: csa, murder, mutilation, religious trauma, general stuff)

Takes place in college. Jeff is 22 at the start while Liu is 20.

Instead of being a one-off instance, Jeff and Liu have been subjected to bullying/borderline harassment since middle school. This builds up Jeff’s gradual distrust of others and leads to him shutting himself off from his peers.

Most of said bullying revolved around their mixed race situation. It only got worse as Jeff shut himself off and Liu became a people pleaser.

The two didn’t even have peace at home, since their parents were sexually abusive and excused it through their religion. It was “all apart of god’s love” as they said. This + the bullying leads Liu to develop DID and kickstarts Jeff’s resentment towards their parents. It also led Jeff to develop a twisted belief on what love and beauty is since god apparently “favored” the beauty of his parent’s form of “love.”

On one particular instance of bullying/harassment, a small group of people he grew up with planned on jumping and mugging Jeff behind a bar. Things escalated when Jeff retaliated in self defense, beating his aggressors with a nearby pipe found laying against a dumpster. He didn’t leave unscathed however, since one of the attackers dropped a lighter into the flammable materials (alcohol, trash, etc) that had been scattered in the fight, planning on making everyone go down in that moment. Jeff managed to survive (albeit with severe burns along his body) after being found by an employee who went to go check out the noise/smell of smoke, but the others succumbed to their wounds.

While in a heavy state of shock and psychosis (paired with being drugged up out the wazoo at the hospital) his usual unchecked auditory hallucinations worsened, leading his mind to trick him into believing this situation was a sign from god- that he was supposed to survive while his tormentors burned. Paired with his already twisted concepts of love and beauty, he began to believe that his burns were part of god’s plan to make him more beautiful- because he was favored.

This only gets worse when he’s released from the hospital’s custody due to a neglect in checking his mental state. After being sent home with his family and therefore being thrown back into the abusive environment he hoped to escape when going to college he ends up experiencing a psychotic break, mutilating himself in the process.

When his parents catch him, they attack him. In their eyes he had disgraced them, no longer upholding the “beauty” of heaven that they enforced. He ends up killing them in self defense, but furthers it by mutilating their bodies in an act of defiance induced by his break. He believes he’s outdone god in this moment, deluding himself into thinking he’s on the same level (or even better) than god.

While overcome by his psychotic break, he ends up severely wounding Liu after he wakes up to check out the noise. It becomes a conspiracy on if Liu survived or not since his body was never found by authorities.

The reason why Jeff continues on his spree after these instances is the feel of control he gets. After being forced into submission by those around him for so long, he finally feels a stable sense of power over those he deems as less than him.

He ends up wandering throughout the states after this, hopping from town to town. He never stays in one place for long, although sometimes he’ll revisit his home town to give the urban legend fanatics something to fear again.

[spookyrea]

Love at First Sight (or should I walk by again?)

Everyone keeps pointing out the fact that Loki can't keep his hands off of you - but that's just the kind of guy he is, right? Right...? (Or: the one where Loki keeps giving you mixed signals and you decide to take matters into your own hands. To mixed results.) Chapter 1 / 2 to read on AO3, click here

The office was empty and drearily dark; the sun had only barely crossed the horizon, bathing the 27th floor of the Avengers Tower in a deep purple haze. The early morning silence was tempered only by the sound of rain pattering against the window and the occasional rumble of the metro a couple blocks away. It was the kind of morning best enjoyed in bed under a mountain of blankets - not filling out cost-analysis reports.

Fury had had you out in the field for three weeks straight on consecutive missions, meaning you had returned home -  bruised, exhausted, dreaming of clean sheets and hours of mindless television -  to a veritable mountain of paperwork. Paperwork that you probably could have finished by now - or, at least, made way more progress on - if it weren’t for your resident distraction-on-legs.

Loki rearranged himself in the seat across from you; the toe of one of his meticulously polished shoes bumped against your sneaker, bullying its way between your feet to hook around your ankle. Your desk lamp cast a warm golden glow across his cheeks, accentuating the long line of his nose and the narrow cut of his jaw. His hair, usually so meticulously styled, was loose and curling wildly.

You signed off on the file in front of you, pointedly ignoring the warm flush that crept along the back of your neck, and added it to the mounting pile to your left.

Not twenty minutes after you’d settled in at your desk, Loki had strolled out of the elevators into the office. With all the magnificent theatrics he could muster, he’d thrown himself into the chair opposite yours - his chair - and plucked up the paperback he’d left dogeared a fortnight ago.

(Loki had a desk, kitty-corner to yours in the Avengers semi-circle. He seemed to prefer to sit at yours and complain about the lack of space.)

Not that it mattered where he sat. Your eyes seemed intrinsically magnetized to him; to the dark curls that brushed his jaw; to the way his eyes crinkled when he laughed. You could spend hours watching the meticulous flick of his wrist when he crossed his t’ s, or the way his fingers deftly rolled his cufflinks free to turn his sleeves up. 

Or, like you were doing right now; your pen hovered lamely over your paper while you admired him through the fan of your eyelashes, fixated on the way his index finger and thumb rolled the corner of one page as he read.

“Particularly interested in fourteenth-century extraterrestrial poetry, are we?” Loki intoned. Your eyes darted up to find that his were already on you, watching with a peculiar expression. It was easy to forget, sometimes, that he wasn’t human, but up this close there was a preternatural edge in his eyes that pinned you in place.

“No,” You replied quickly. Flustered, you flipped a random dossier open and scanned it over, adding the appropriate signature on every other page. Loki’s eyes burned a hole in the side of your face - you could practically feel the patronizing arch of his brow. “Just tired. Zoning out. You know. What was the name of the knife you let me borrow?”

“Earthbreaker.”

“Right, thank you.” You jotted the name down under Resources Returned With. It was the only weapon you’d not lost in Shanghai; all your other daggers and close-combat tools had been dissolved by an alien gunk that ate through Earthly metals like sugar in water. Loki had sliced the offending creature’s head clean off its shoulders before flipping the knife around to you, hilt-first. 

You did not, however, mention the pocketful of extra-terrestrial stones Loki had shared with you after the fact - but you knew from experience that Finance didn’t care about Loki’s magpie-like tendencies.

( These were very rare on Asgard. Courtiers sometimes sewed them into their sleeves as symbols of status.

They’re beautiful.

Yes, he’d agreed. But I think they’d look better against your arm, no?)

You finished off a comment on page seven and tucked your report into the Shanghai, Domestic (Earth) Threat folder. Despite Tony’s seemingly endless pockets, the Avengers finance department was meticulous about tracking your spending, which required an extreme detail when justifying any and all decisions made out in the field.

(It probably had something to do with the Berlin Incident, where a stray explosive arrow and a couple hundred tons of Hulk had cost Stark Enterprises a few hundred million dollars. Which, you would like to remind everyone, was not your fault. You were off a few blocks away wrestling mutant bat-dog-horses away from some celestial object intent on challenging Thor for his hammer.)

Loki materialized something out of thin air and slipped it between the pages of his book. “I think a break is in order, pet.”

“It’s only been forty-five minutes.” 

He flicked an errant curl out of his eyes while leveling you with a truly magnificent pout. “Forty-five agonizing minutes.”

“You haven’t even done anything today.”

“I’ve been keeping you company. It’s exhausting work. Really - I have a sudden appreciation for the court jesters back home.”

“Well your jester routine could use some work.”

Loki gasped. “I’ll have you know I am a wonderful jester.”

With a syrupy petulance, Loki plucked the folder from your hands and handed it off to the little robot Tony had assigned to the bullpen - the Paperwork Assistant Lite, or PAL for short. PAL shot off with a chirp, zipping on his tiny treads, the security badge on his chassis swinging merrily behind him.

You tried to tug your foot away in retaliation but Loki was faster. His other foot slid along the side of your shoe until your ankle was trapped between both of his. You twisted in his grip but with a quick yank Loki had you teetering on the edge of your seat. He leaned across the desk and bracketed your forearms with his. “Yield.”

You blew out a breath and screwed your face up in mock defiance. “No.”

“Do not force my hand, mortal.” His eyes shone a brilliant green and a crackling bolt of seidr whispered across your wrists warningly. He plucked your pen from your hand and tossed it aside carelessly. “Yield.”

“You’ll run out of things to throw eventually.” You swatted ineffectually at his calf with your other foot.

“And when that happens, it will be you I put over my shoulder.”

He caught your chin between his thumb and forefinger. You could hear the storm outside swelling; the rain was deafening, the wind rattling the glass in its frame. The desk groaned under his weight as he leaned in just a hair closer. Your breath caught in your chest as his mouth parted, lips shiny where he’d chewed them in contemplation. “You’ll yield one day, pet.”

The train rumbled along in the distance.

Twenty-seven stories below, a car horn blared.

Your pinky brushed the inside seam of Loki’s sleeve, and the whisper of skin on wool seemed deafening.

Loki fell back in his seat with a shove and loosened his grip. He slipped his hands in his pockets and shrugged. “What if I promise to leave you alone. On the condition that you let me buy you breakfast.”

You blinked at him. “Alone-alone? Or ‘alone for ten minutes before you blow up the coffee machine’ alone?”

He nodded grimly. “Alone-alone.”

You sank back in your chair. There was a mischievous glint in his eyes that the smarter, more sensible part of your brain cautioned you about. When you didn’t immediately respond, he offered his hand and wiggled his fingers enticingly.

“Fine.” As soon as you acquiesced, Loki unfolded from his chair and rounded the desk. He had already pulled your jacket off the back of your chair in the time it took you to locate your security badge and was holding it out for you. He helped you slip your arms in and straightened the collar so it lay flat across your shoulders. “But I fully intend on eating you out of house and home.”

He grinned. “Only the best for my little mortal.”

Loki stood at mock attention, his body ramrod straight but eyes slitted rebelliously, and offered you his arm. You rolled your eyes but did not deny yourself the luxury of folding your hands over his bicep.

Sleepy beams of sunlight filtered through the gaps between high-rises, drowned out by sheets of rain. The first few commuters were filtering along the sidewalk, heads bowed and shoulders up to block out the chill. Loki magiced an umbrella from nowhere and drew you in tightly. The cover it provided was cramped, giving you an excuse to tuck into his side. 

The two of you made the three-block journey to your usual coffee shop in companionable silence. It wasn’t until he had deposited you safely under the store’s awning that he dropped your arm, only to usher you inside with a hand on your back.

The shop was a hole-in-the wall, the kind of place without any seating except for a few mismatched tables in the back. Narrow enough that you could almost touch either wall if you stretched hard enough. But the coffee was good and the food even better, and on freezing mornings like this it was a welcome distraction from the sharp cold outside. 

Your usual barista, Yvonne, barely glanced up when you entered. Her dark eyes flickered knowingly between the two of you, lingering on the casual way Loki thumbed the seam of your coat sleeve.

“Morning,” She pulled open the pastry display and piled an assortment into a paper bag for you. “Coffee will be just a second. You want to try something new today?”

Loki was already nodding, sliding a stack of bills across the laminated countertop. To you, he said: “pick whatever you want, pet,” and then slipped to the end of the bar to wait for your drinks.

Yvonne dipped into the kitchen before returning with a little plastic container. “It’s a new recipe but we’re not sure if we’re going to sell it yet. Let me know what you think.”

You smiled and accepted the box, along with a paper bag containing your usual orders - a bagel for you and a couple of honeyed pastries for Loki. You and Loki were the only patrons in the shop, so you didn’t feel too bad lingering at the register. Yvonne leaned her forearms on the counter and poked your forearm. “So how’s it going with… you know.”

You took a forlorn bite of your bagel and cast your eyes to the end of the bar. Loki was chatting with the other barista, leaning over the counter to whisper something conspiratorially to her. She hung off of every word which, how could you blame her. He was, after all, charming and handsome and princely and a notorious flirt.

It was no secret that Loki thrived off of attention. When he had first arrived in his brother’s tow he’d been nothing but easy grins, sandwiched between Thor and Banner. It only took a week before Loki was grudgingly accepted after helping to stop the Bad Guy of the Week in a fishing town in New Brunswick, Canada and saving Natasha’s life, and it only took a year and another brush with near-death - which involved Loki using his seidr to literally hold Steve’s insides inside - for him to gain some leeway among the team. 

Which he abused immediately.

He was a terror. He was unpredictable, constantly underfoot, and he and Thor spent just as much time brothers-in-arms as they did at eachothers’ throats. He flirted his way out of most scrapes and connived his way out of the rest. Meaning - he absolutely thrived.

You had all come to rely on having him in your back pocket for missions. He was a great strategist and an even better fighter - even if he gave Tony a run for his money in the obnoxiousness department.

And you liked him. You really liked him - liked his company, liked his dry sense of humor. You liked the way your stomach swooped every time you heard his voice from around the corner, and how your heart clenched whenever he shot you a private smile during briefings. He was a great sparring partner and he seemed to have a sixth sense for when you needed a pep talk. But his attention never settled on you the way it did on marks or pretty secretaries or baristas.

A larger-than-insignificant part of you understood that what Loki liked about you was how your focus never waned. He liked the attention - for his little mortal to fawn over him. 

You’d thought he’d been interested at first, in the week after he’d saved Natasha. 

The touching. 

The pet names.

And then months went by and you watched him flirt with anything that breathed. And, on one occasion, something that didn’t.

“I still think he likes you,” Yvonne said. “He practically hangs off of you. Like one of those little baby sloths in a Dodo video.”

“That’s just Loki,” you said around a mouthful of bread. You’d confided in her a few weeks prior about your little crush in a moment of weakness and she, like Natasha, had taken to the cause like a dog to a bone. “He’s like that with everyone. I mean - look at him. He doesn’t really like me like that.”

The doorbell chimed, and Yvonne pushed away with a dramatic sigh. “He’s an ass then. Not worth it.”

“Who’s not worth what?” Loki sidled up beside you, coffee cups balanced in either hand. Yvonne shot you a look and waved the question away. You said a hurried goodbye and let Loki corral you into the deluge outside.

Heavy droplets of rain battered the pavement. Cars trudged along through broad trenches of water. Sliding his arm around your waist, Loki steered the two of you back the way you came. He held you tightly against his side to keep you both under the umbrella, so that your hips bumped with every other step and you could feel the heat coming off his coffee cup at your elbow. You took a sip of your own drink to distract yourself.

“Oh, I think you gave me your drink by mistake.” You pulled the cup away to check the label. Instead of an order, you found a ten-digit phone number scrawled in thick black marker.

“Terribly sorry, pet.” You didn’t miss how Loki’s grip tightened on your forearm when you strayed a little too far from the umbrella. He swapped your drinks, then made a disinterested noise. “I have to admire her bravery. I mean, it was clearly a stupid decision, but brave none the less.”

“Oh, be nice. The poor girl can’t help being charmed by your wiles.”

“I am devilishly charming, aren’t I?” Loki jostled you with his shoulder. You swallowed a sigh when he turned his nose into your cheek, his hot breath fanning over your jaw. “But I’m clearly not interested.”

“Loki,” you chided. “Your idea of clearly not interested is most peoples’ ‘oh god take me now’.”

“Preposterous. On Asgard we took courtship incredibly seriously. There were steps involved. A whole process. That,” he waved his hand, “was merely my enchanting nature.”

You rolled your eyes. “Jane told me that Thor offered her the head of a robot overlord he took down in Brazil.”

Loki pulled you to a stop to wait for the crosswalk sign to turn. “It likely would have been a stag on Asgard. Thor made do with what he could. Though I always imagined myself offering up a manticore, personally. Maybe a giant serpent.”

You hummed. “What a romantic.”

Loki shot you a curious look. “I spent much of my boyhood imagining how I might court my future mate. The gifts. The parties. I always imagined a woman at the edge of a dancefloor, how I might ask her to dance. She’d be dressed in my colours in a public declaration. Covered in gold. My sword at her hip…”

The crosswalk chirped. Loki drew you along, finishing lamely: “So no. That’s not ‘interested’.”

The rain was coming down harder, whipped up by the wind so it blew directly in your faces. A bead of water slid down your cheek; the umbrella only covered so much, and dark splotches were beginning to pepper the shoulders of your jackets and creep up the hem of your pants. A chill had settled over your skin unpleasantly… yet you couldn’t help but groan as you rounded the corner and the crisp steel contours of the Avengers tower melted into view.

Loki glanced over his shoulder, a boyish grin tilting his lips upwards. A few damp curls clung to the column of his throat.  “Tell you what, pet. Why don’t I practice my court jester routine a little longer?”

Loki crowded you against the side of the Avengers tower, shielding you from the worst of the storm. He launched into regaling you about the book he was reading - a collection of alien poetry from sometime around Earth’s 14th century, found in one of Tony’s art collections gathering dust. ( We called them engagements on Asgard. Because suitors would often ‘forget’ them in their intendeds’ parlors as an excuse to return later. ) All the while, he drew the plastic container Yvonne had given you from your paper bag and pried the lid off. Inside was a collection of small pastries with cracked sugar shells on top - profiteroles, you thought. Loki plucked one and gestured with it wildly to emphasize his point, nearly upturning the entire box in his enthusiasm.

“Okay, that’s enough.” You took the container from him and held it securely in your free hand. “What were you saying?”

“I was quoting. I said ‘ If love was like an ocean, then mine was like a well.’”

“Deep and drinkable?”

“Hand-dug.” Loki popped the sweet in his mouth. His eyebrows rose comically. “That’s good. That’s very good,” he said around a mouthful.

You hummed and held out your coffee so you could try. Instead, Loki took another one out and held it up to your mouth.

You sputtered out a nervous laugh. “What? No, take my coffee.”

Loki tsked and prodded your lips with the dessert. He fixed you with a strange look, something coy but serious at the edges. A warm flush rose along the back of your neck under his scrutiny, growing so unbearable by the second that eventually you opened your mouth and let him place the treat between your teeth. Sweet cream burst out of crisp, flaky pastry and chips of hard sugar - he was right, it was delicious. 

His narrowed eyes shone with mirth. “Good?”

Your breath stuttered when Loki pressed his lips to the pad of his thumb, licking away some sticky residue. His mouth pulled away with a wet peach sort of sound.

Your knuckles brushed the fabric of his shirt, warmed by his skin - a pleasant contrast to the cold, wet city air. You felt his muscles twitch under the barest touch. 

His mouth tipped upwards; the back of your hand slid against his abdomen when he leaned his hand against the wall next to your head, dominating your personal space.

In a panic, you blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “Do you have a date for the party tonight?”

“Oh sweetling,” he purred. “I thought you would never ask.”

You grimaced. “Very funny. I thought you would have already asked Emily from Accounting.”

Loki blinked down at you. “What?”

“Emily? Tall, big hair, legs for days?”

“Why would I ever ask her?”

You picked at the label printed on your coffee cup. “I don’t know. I just figured someone like you would…”

“Would…?”

You huffed out a sharp breath and glanced at him from the corner of your eye. A strange expression had crossed his face. You regretted asking at all; it wasn’t like you wanted to know the answer to that question anyway.

“Nevermind. It doesn’t matter. I’m sure you’ll be fending people off left and right anyway.”

Silence settled over the two of you, decidedly less comfortable this time. His hand slipped from the brick wall and into his coat pocket roughly.

“Do you… Do you have a date tonight?”

“No! No, I…” You laughed uncomfortably. “No. No dates right now.”

Loki hummed. The furrow between his brows lessened but only slightly. 

You pushed away from the wall a little awkwardly, still balancing the box of profiteroles in your hand. Loki followed a step behind, pulling the door open for you mechanically. 

You rode the elevator up in silence.

When you reached the floor for the common office, you found PAL waiting dutifully outside the elevator. His little paper tray bobbed as he spun circles around your feet. 

“You are entirely too kind to him,” Loki chided while you cooed down at his adorably square face.

“Maybe he’ll be my date tonight. What do you say, PAL? Want to dance the night away?”

PAL lead the two of you to your desk, where he waited for you to assign him another file. The city was shrouded in a thick grey haze behind the floor-to-ceiling windows and bright, early morning light had flooded the room - a far cry from the intimate room you’d left. You sighed and slunk heavily into your seat.

Loki loitered. He drew the tip of one long finger down the cover of one of your folders, flipping through a quilt of post-it notes. “Ok. I’ll keep my promise and let you work now.”

“Thank you.” Before he could leave you reached out and grabbed his sleeve. He startled, glancing down at your hand before his eyes flickered back up to yours. You rolled the seam of his coat sleeve between your thumb and forefinger, dropping his gaze when it grew too hot. “I’ll see you tonight, yeah?”

Loki hummed. “I’ll be the one in black.”

You couldn’t help but feel like you’d said something wrong. His hand slipped from yours and into his pocket, his little book of poetry tucked under one arm. Your eyes lingered on the elevator doors long after he’d left.

—

You were in the process of deciding between two pairs of shoes when your front door slipped open. Never one for boisterous entrances, Natasha sashayed down your front hall into your living area, shoes and makeup bag clutched in one hand, and made a bee-line for your bathroom. You padded after her, adjusting your glittery skirt as you went.

It had become customary for you and Natasha to get ready together in your apartment, even outside of Official Team Events, so you didn’t bat an eye when she leant her hip against your counter and started pinning her hair out of her face. You hoisted yourself up onto the bathroom counter while she unpacked her tools, idly playing with a tube of toothpaste in companionable silence.

“On a scale of one to ten, how bad is the crisis you’re having?”

“How can you tell I’m having a crisis?”

Natasha waved her hand, as if to say international super spy, duh.

“Like a twelve,” you moaned. “I can’t do this anymore. I just get so… so awkward around him. And he gets off on it, I know he does. He amps it up to a hundred because he knows it makes me uncomfortable.”

Natasha leveled a look at you through the mirror. 

“He called Lydia in the mail room ‘Enchantress’ for a week. He calls me his pet. ”

“Some guys are into that.”

You made a face. “He’s not a guy though. He’s a god. How could I ever live up to that.”

You heard the front door open. Wanda had promised to come by once she’d gotten dressed. You called out her name, then returned to your moping.

“He just- ugh - he makes me crazy, you know? I like him so much. I swear if he touches me one more time I’m going to burst into flames. Or cry. Or worse, say something embarrassing. Something needy like ‘I love you please oh please let me have your babies’.” You wailed and buried your face in your hands. “I just need to find a guy to fuck it out of me.”

“If you’re looking for sex, Loki would be more than happy to help you,” Natasha grumbled. “Even if he wasn’t doing the roll-over-and-show-my-belly routine for you - which he absolutely is - he’d jump at the chance to ‘fuck it out of you’ .”

“You are not being helpful at all.” You hopped off the counter and adjusted your skirt. You were beginning to regret your decision, but the dress was a beautiful shade of green that both Wanda and Natasha had cooed at over Facetime a week ago. “I’m serious. I just need some random guy to blow off some steam. Get my mind off of him.”

Natasha tossed her eyeliner pencil in her makeup bag and zipped it shut. “Maybe you’re selling yourself short. Maybe you’re way more of a catch than you think you are.”

“And maybe sleeping with someone who actually wants me will fix my ego problem. Maybe my problem is that I’ve been spending way too much time around super soldiers and GQ models. Someone in my league. Someone totally normal who won’t laugh in my face and pat my head like I’m a horny lap dog.”

Natasha tsked. “It sounds like you’ve already made up your mind. So, what’s the plan? You find some guy, take him home, ride him into the sunset and then… Go on pretending you’re not totally in love with-?”

“Don’t say his name! I’m serious, you’re going to jinx it or something.” You glared at her reflection. “The guy doesn’t matter. In fact, he shouldn’t matter. Someone I have absolutely no interest in, who I can spend one fun night with and then move on from. I just need to regain control over the situation.”

“Mhmm. I just don’t see why Loki’s not an option here. Plug this in for me.” You squawked indignantly while she handed over her curling iron. “Worst case scenario, he’s only ok and you never have to talk about it again. Maybe he has a tail or something. Horns.” 

You tried to imagine her head exploding. Or stubbing her toe really hard. Tripping up the stairs. “It’s more complicated than that.”

Natasha hummed. She sorted through the belongings strewn across your bathroom counter mindlessly, straightening out your array of weapons leftover from when you stumbled home in the early morning. One of her manicured fingers traced the edge of an ornate gold knife. Earthbreaker . “Interesting choice for a telekinetic super spy. Abandoning quiet and calculated for something a bit more ostentatious, are we?”

“I’ve been meaning to return that.”

“Return what?” Wanda rounded the corner, a tote bag in one hand and a bottle of wine in another. “Cute dress.”

You smiled. “Thank you. What took you so long?”

“Oh,” Wanda sidled up next to Natasha and began pilfering through her makeup bag. “Nothing, really. I couldn’t decide between this dress or an old red one I found in the back of my closet. I came as fast as I could.”

“No, I mean, I heard the door-”

“She’s going to hook up with a stranger tonight,” Natasha interrupted.

“What? Shit-” Wanda dropped the kohl pencil she was using and licked her thumb, scrubbing at her eyelid. “Wait, why not Loki?”

“I never said I was certain,” you interjected.

“She’s worried he doesn’t feel the same way she does.”

Wanda pouted at her reflection, assessing the symmetry of her eyeliner. “Not to be dramatic but… does it matter? He’d say yes.”

“You don’t know that. Just this morning he turned down a barista when she gave him her phone number.”

“But with a little wine? A little dancing? He looks amazing, by the way, I passed him on my way here.” Wanda turned to face you, leaning her elbows on the counter. “He’ll say yes.”

“Speaking of wine, why don’t I-”

“Worst case scenario he’s only an okay lay. Loki will leap at the chance for a one-night stand. Why would you-”

“I don’t want to just fuck him, okay?” You cried. “I know he’d fuck me. But I want more. ”

You turned on your heel and fled to the kitchen. You had never gotten around to buying wine glasses - something Natasha loved to make fun of you for - so you pulled mugs down at random.

It was only your familiarity with Natasha that tipped you off to the fact that she’d joined you. You avoided her eyes while digging through your cutlery drawer for a corkscrew.

“Babe.” Natasha took you by the shoulders and tipped her head so you were eye level. “Hey. Tell me what the worst-case scenario is.”

You shrugged, a little pathetically. “I don’t know. He’s uncomfortable. Or- or he makes fun of me.”

“He already does that.”

“But not- not like this.” You scrubbed the heel of your palm over your eyes. “I really like him. And I don’t want to lose him as a friend.”

“I think you’re gonna lose him as a friend no matter what if this continues. And I think he likes you a lot more than you think. I- and you can never, ever repeat this - I think he’s a lot more empathetic than he lets on. Hell, his brother has tried to kill him multiple times and they live on the same floor.”

Her thumbs worked in small, soothing circles over your shoulders. You leaned forward to rest your forehead against her chest and sighed. “What if he says no?”

“Just ask him to dance tonight. If he says no then no harm, no foul.” She pushed you back by the shoulders and leveled you a look. “We’re master tacticians. We can seduce that stupid peacock. Now come on, come help me do Wanda’s hair. I curl, you pin.”

You took a deep breath in and held it. On the exhale, you pulled away. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

You gathered up your glasses. Wine bottle in hand, you started to formulate a plan. A strategy. Something Peter might call Operation Get Laid if he didn’t blush every time a kissing scene came on TV. 

You nodded. “Okay.”

-

part two!

[whxre-bxby]

"Special Appointment"

recom Mansk x human f. reader

Masterlist Click here for art

Summary: You're in charge of the physical and mental health of the recom team. Mansk has an appointment and he gets a massage. Little do you know, he has developed a crush on you which becomes fairly obvious during the appointment and there is a turn in events.

WARNING: SMUT, fluff, bad language, penetration, blowjob, fingering, breeding kink

Word Count: 5482

The RDA is a busy place to work in. On Earth, I had a lot to do already. On Pandora, my chores seemed to double. Luckily I’ve been slightly transferred from the research department to… whatever department this is. 

I studied Na’vi species. Their body structure, muscles, skeletons, genes, and organs. The psychology too. Their language, culture and behaviour. 

Now, I no longer have the desk job which I am thankful for. I was moved and assigned to the newly created recombinant team, to give them regular checkups and make sure everything was okay. 

Part of my job now was to give them physiotherapy. Not all of them needed it but even the smallest complaints of pain or pressure could be a fault in the system so I needed to look at it. 

Today, I had Mansk assigned to me. It was a check-up with an included massage because he wasn’t sleeping well. 

I had gotten to know most of the recom’s pretty well. Mansk was one of them. We’ve had a few previous appointments and I enjoy talking with him. He’s the only person who asks me questions back when he comes in. I definitely don’t expect anyone to do that but it does often make my day. Of course, I don’t tell Mansk that because I want to keep things professional but I look forward to having him come in. I’ve also never massaged him before so let’s see how it goes.

Lyle came in for one yesterday. Not because he needed it, he’s in good condition. He insisted he needed a massage so I just let it happen and he fell asleep before we were even half done. 

Anyway, I knew what I was doing. This was my job, after all, so there was no need to be nervous. It’s all going to be okay, he’s just going to take his… shirt off. And I will not stare OR make it awkward because I’m a professional at what I do and I’m still trying to get a raise so I can’t have anything going wrong!

He’s meant to be here in a few minutes so I get the room ready by putting away anything that wasn’t needed for this appointment. Since I wasn’t working in a laboratory anymore, I didn’t have to wear the stupid coat or the gloves. My clothes were more comfortable and that was part of the reason I preferred this over my previous job. 

The big and heavy metal door beeps and the light above it flashes green instead of red. They automatically open and outside it is a colleague in a lab coat and half of what I’m assuming is Mansk. 

Yes, the doors were absolutely humungous for me but apparently still not big enough for the Na’vi body. The person holding the clipboard direct the soldiers here and they nodded before turning to leave. 

Mansk slowly leaned down, tilting his upper body slightly forward and stepping into the room. At least the ceiling was high enough. 

“Don’t hit your head.” I say, smiling and quickly arranging my desk. 

Mansk grins and breathily answers “Yeah.” before scanning the room. 

“Hi, welcome back.” I greet him and he smiles. 

“Hey.” he nods and I point to the large chair. 

“Take a seat there and I’ll be right with you.” I say, finishing what I was doing. 

Mansk listens, walking over to it and taking a seat while moving his tail out of the way. He always paid extra attention to it here because he didn’t want to knock anything over. 

“Alright, I’m ready.” I say, turning around with all the necessary clean tools. 

He nods again. I noticed he didn’t talk much, only when it was important. Yet he would still go out of his way to ask me things. 

“How are you feeling?” I ask, stopping on his side and placing a few things on the trolly next to the chair. 

“Alright.” he said, straightening his posture on the seat. “How are you?” he asks. 

I chuckle and a smile forces itself onto my face. 

“I’m alright too, thanks for asking.” I say and he smiles. “You know this check-up is about you, not about me, right?” 

The corner of his mouth lifts up into a slight smirk. “Yeah, I know.” He says and I see myself in the reflection of his shades. 

“Do you mind if we take those off?” I ask, motioning to his sunglasses. “You can put them on again when we’re done.” 

He looks away and nods, taking them off and holding on to them. I smile. 

“Thanks.” 

I start with the check-up by examining his reflexes. The good old snapping next to the ears to see if they react. Everything worked well. 

Next, I need to check the eyes. I reach for the torch and then gently place my hand on the left side of his face to guide him to look towards me. 

I notice how his eyes widen as he watches me intently but lets me do what I need to. 

I turn on the torch to its weakest level and shine it in his right eye. He squints a little and his pupil shrinks. The other eye does the same. It’s healthy. I keep his head there while I put the torch away and I feel how his eyes continue to linger on me. 

I face him again, noticing that they are slightly red in the corners. Probably from lack of sleep. His eyes keep flicking back and forth, probably looking at mine but I refuse to let myself get distracted. Not that I didn’t want to. If I could I would sit down in his lap and stare into his eyes all day but I don’t want to make him uncomfortable because that would clearly be crossing the line and I would probably get fired. 

I smile, gently tapping his cheek with my fingertip in praise that it’s all good and I step away. 

“What happened to your face?” Mansk suddenly asks me and I remember the small scratch I have. 

I grin at the memory. “Me and a friend were messing around with paperwork and she threw some of it at me. It’s just a papercut, no biggie.” 

“Important paperwork?” he asks, smiling and looking up at me. 

“Don’t tell your Colonel or the General.” I slyly say and he chuckles, dropping his head and shaking it. 

I then scan over his braid, picking it up and checking whether everything is in its place. I pull it over his shoulder to make sure that it's still flexible like it should be. A Na’vi virus side effect is a stiff cord which is extremely painful, so luckily he doesn’t have that. 

He watches how my hand glides over his braid and has to suppress a shiver which I don’t notice. 

I move it down his queue and pinch the end of it gently while making sure he isn’t showing any signs of discomfort. The braid was very sensitive and it had to be handled gently or else it could potentially cause some disruption in the body. 

He stayed still so I examined the small strands that moved as if they had a life of their own. I didn’t touch them, I just looked. As long as they move, everything is fine. 

“Good, everything looks fine.” I say and flash him a reassuring smile before taking all the tools back to the cupboard. 

“You said your back hurt, right?” I ask him, to make sure I didn’t get it wrong. 

“Yeah.” 

“Did something happen?”

“Nah, I just slept badly.” 

I nod, writing it down. “Okay, then please remove your shirt and you can lie down over there.” 

He nods and I turn away to give him a little privacy just to keep everything comfortable as I finish my notes. I get out the oil that helps with cramps and sore muscles from the cupboard next to me while I hear him shuffling around and laying down. 

I turn around and walk to him with the bottle of oil in my hand. Since the mattress for him to lay on is the height of his waist, that makes it as tall as me so I have steps to climb on. 

Mansk turns his head to the side and grins. “You have steps?”

“Yep. We don’t talk about it.” I say, quickly shutting him down. 

“It’s cute.” he mumbles and the words make my heart race but I’m so in the character of the version of Y/N that doesn’t give a shit, that I can respond quickly. 

“I feel like a Chihuahua.” I say, making him chuckle again. 

I climb up and kneel next to him. Mansk is resting his head on his arms again and his tail is swaying around. 

“You have to keep your tail down for the next 20 minutes.” I say and he lifts his head. 

“Still too?” Mansk asks, seeming a little worried about that. The tail was hard for them to control. 

“No, just try to keep it flat down if possible.” I laugh and he drops his head in defeat before nodding. I knew he struggled to get it under control too.

He managed though and I climbed on top of him, placing my legs on either side of his waist. 

His tail was beneath me so I refused to sit down. Mansk’s ears were flattened back, focusing on me instead of pointing forwards. 

“Just relax now.” I say with a smile and he answers with a soft “Mhm”. 

I flick open the bottle, pouring some oil on my palm before rubbing it between both my hands to warm it up. 

I then place my hands on his bare back and notice him flinch a little. Goosebumps rise on his skin making me smile but I say nothing. 

I start working on his back, feeling his tense muscles and focusing on loosening them. 

As the minutes go by, Mansk grows more relaxed and lets his shoulder slump. 

(I made art for this :D click here)

Occasionally, he sighs and I smile because it makes me feel better about my work when I know that he isn’t uncomfortable or in pain. 

I start telling him about the crisis I had with paperwork this morning because I know Mansk prefers listening over talking and he also prefers listening over silence. 

So when I speak and rant, he listens and gives me his attention and it often helps me blow off some steam. Sometimes he adds things like nods or agreeing noises or even questions. 

“Why was the deadline at 2:00 in the morning?” he asks, it sounding like a mumble though because his head is between his arms. 

“Ask my bitch of a boss. Never giving us a normal time to do anything. That’s why your appointment is this late.” I complain and I feel him chuckle. 

I work my way up his back, not leaving out a single spot. Apparently, I found a good area because Mansk is now letting out a few groans and his ears have drooped to the side. 

The noises he is making hypnotise me and I can’t get enough of it. I’ve zoned out a few times already, daydreaming while massaging him. Mansk is now suppressing them and it makes me wonder whether I did something wrong or whether he felt a change in the atmosphere. 

I also noticed he was no longer as relaxed as before and I tried to redo what I had previously done to ease the tension but it didn’t work. 

That didn’t stop me from continuing though. We had a few minutes left and I was working on his shoulders right now. 

Suddenly, I felt something brush up against the back of my leg and turned to see that Mansk’s tail was no longer down on the mattress. 

I was about to say something about it when it suddenly caressed my hip and then seemed to try and wrap around my thigh. I froze for a split second, watching it move. 

Was he doing this on purpose or was his tail once again acting up against his will?

I tried ignoring it, speeding up the massage because we were almost done. Maybe Mansk fell asleep? 

Then, I felt his tail brush the inside of my thigh which was so close to my crotch and it made me jump. I suddenly grew extremely nervous and decided to stop. 

“Okay, you’re all done.” I say, being so thankful that I didn’t stutter and trip over my words. 

I climb off Mansk, putting the bottle of oil away and when I turn back to him, he hasn’t moved at all. 

“You can come down now.” I say, trying to encourage him to get up because his appointment is finished. Not that I had anyone after him, he was the last person.

He runs a hand over his face and suddenly he seems frustrated. 

“I uhm- I can’t… get up.” he says and his words confuse me. 

“Does it still hurt?” I ask and he shakes his head no but I’m already returning back to where I was before. 

“Is it the same spot as before?” I ask and Mansk shakes his head and starts to panic slightly but keeps his composure as I climb back on him, running my hands down his back.

I notice how tensed up he is but he doesn’t seem sore anymore. 

“I can prescribe you a cream to relieve muscle pain.” I say, looking over to my cabinet again. 

Little did I know, Mansk needed to be relieved in a different way and of something else. But he would never dare tell me. 

Mansk thought of you too highly. You were like an angel to him and he appreciated every second he got to spend with you. Yes, he had developed a crush but he was denying it even to himself. He didn’t want to ruin what you had. 

Even though his new body was difficult to deal with and he had to put up with it needing more attention, he wouldn’t ever touch himself to the thought of you or anything like that. In his head, you were too good for him. He knew that if he got up, you would visibly see what had formed in his pants and he would probably kill himself or lock himself away forever if you would see him as some creep. 

But all that holding back had the tension in him just build up and he was currently having a very hard time suppressing his feelings. 

I lift my left leg up, ready to climb off of him but suddenly his tail is around my thigh and it’s keeping me there. I don’t move, wondering whether it will let go but it stays still, just holding me there. 

“Mansk?” I ask and I notice his head is raised but he seems to be avoiding me. 

In the next second, the tail tugs me down and I land on Mansk. My weight is now fully seated on his lower back and- 

…the beginning of his tail is pressed up right against my clothed pussy. The contact makes my breath hitch and I watch the muscles on his back flex. He must feel it too. 

Then, his tail moves and I gasp. His ears shoot to where my noise came from and he is gripping the edge of the mattress so tightly his knuckles have turned white. 

The smell of you fills the air and Mansk is able to pick it up. It makes his pupils widen a little and he bares his fangs while fighting himself to not turn around and touch you. 

I start to imagine what could be going on and while I can’t see his expression nor pick up any scent, I can feel how the atmosphere completely changes. 

The shift leads me to a conclusion of why Mansk isn’t turning around and why he is so tense all of a sudden. But since I’m not sure, I don’t want to risk too much. 

However, I will act on it slightly because I can see that his body language confirms my hypothesis and I’m the expert in that after all. 

“Mansk.” I say, with my voice more confident now and no longer shaky. His ears twitch back before flattening out again. Yeah, he heard me. 

I lift myself up a little while his tail still holds on to me. 

“Turn around.” It almost sounds like an order and it seems to surprise him a little. This time he inhales a shaky breath. 

“But uh- I can’t I have-” 

“Do it now.” I add and I watch him swallow nervously before he complies. His tail becomes loose around my thigh and he slowly turns around, to lie on his back while I give him some space. 

His face is tainted with an embarrassed blush, his ears are once again strained back and he refuses to meet my eyes. He’s just staring down at himself and he looks almost ashamed and guilty. I follow his gaze, letting my eyes trace down his bare torso until I see his problem. And with that, my theory is indeed confirmed. 

Mansk had a boner and he was clearly embarrassed about it. 

I inhale sharply and my lips part. I don’t know what to say but seeing him worked up like this is really doing it for me. I just need to know whether he feels like this about me or whether his body is just messing with him again. 

I move back a little so that I’m not right above it. Mansk’s eyes flicker up while his cheeks continue to burn. 

“Is this for me?” I ask with a smirk. “Or is it your Avatar messing up?”

Finally, Mansk looks at me. He looks like a puppy that just did something bad and is in trouble. 

He’s been trying to come up with any plausible excuse to save himself from this situation but your words hinted at amusement and now he wasn’t sure whether he should lie to get out of this or see where it goes. 

I notice he is hesitant so I decide to give him a little push. I move up, now hovering over his torso and staring down at him. Mansk watches me with wide blown eyes and perked-forward ears. 

“Come on, you can tell me.” I smirk again, taking one hand and tracing it along his collarbone and down to his chest. He shivers beneath me and his expression is changing from being hypnotised to fighting himself. 

“If you don’t want to I will leave.” I say, wanting him to know he has the option to get out of this if I really have misinterpreted this whole situation. 

“No-” he breathes out and I watch how defeat floods him. He’s given up on holding back. 

“Y/N I love you.” he blurts out and his words take me by surprise. I wasn’t expecting him to say that. I can see he’s still deeply blushing but he’s just staring at me like a lovestruck idiot at this point and I’m starting to love this. 

“Yeah?” I ask, raising an eyebrow while a grin forms on my face. 

“Yeah.” he almost whispers. His voice gave out for a split second and he sounds hoarse now. 

“How much?” I tease, letting my fingertips dance on his glistening skin. 

“So much.” 

I just watch him in amusement. Who knew a big man like him would be so whipped and desperate? 

“I need you so bad.” he adds and it almost sounds like a whine. Yep, he’s losing his barrier of being an emotionless and quiet soldier. 

I chuckle, wrapping my fingers around his dog tag and leaning down to him. 

“Magic word.” I say, thriving in the fact that I have so much control over him who is 3 times as big as me. 

“Please.” he whispers and I grin. I lean down, keeping our faces just mere millimetres apart and then Mansk leans his head up and connects our lips. 

I kiss him and rest my hands on his chest while his own start to wander my body. I let him touch my waist and face, but the rest will have to wait for later. 

His hand travels down my back and once it passes my hip I pull away and smack it lightly. Mansk retreats his hand and stares up at me. 

“Not yet.” I say and the words make him shiver again. 

I sit back on him and let my hands glide over his torso. 

Slowly I inch to the waistband on his pants and soon I am sitting on his upper thighs while his erection is straining his pants in front of me. 

Mansk leans on his forearms to watch me and I grin at him again. 

“Can I?” I ask, teasing his skin while dipping my fingertips beneath the fabric. He shakily sighs and nods his head. 

“Words, baby.”

“Yeah…” 

I slowly open and tug down his pants, thereby noticing he isn’t wearing a belt for once. I pull them down his thighs along with the underwear beneath and he sighs in slight relief when his erection is freed. 

This time I gulp, staring at the size of it. It’s so big it blows my mind. I might have to rethink my strategy here. 

Mansk notices and seems a little worried. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.” he tells me and it warms my heart but the longer I see him like this the more I need him inside me. 

“I want to.” I say, leaning forward and kissing him again. “You’re so beautiful.” 

His ears perk forward and I take note that he likes the praise. 

I then sit back again and wrap one hand around him. Mansk shudders and bites his lip and then I do the same with my other hand. 

I stroke him a few times to test the waters and it seems to be working because Mansk is falling apart. 

I smile to myself when I see how his mouth is hanging open a little and how his breathing gets heavier. He groans when I tighten my grip a little.

I lean down after collecting saliva on my tongue and lick over his tip. His teeth sink into his bottom lip and he tightly clutches his hands into fists again. I hear Mansk whimper and I continue to lick the tip of his cock, running my tongue along the slit where what I think is precum is forming. 

I lick a long stripe from the base to the top before I wrap my lips around his tip and suck on him. Mansk throws his head back and his body shakes. 

He’s been so desperate for your touch for so long and he refused to ever take care of himself or acknowledge it so now he’s so much more sensitive to you, he can’t help himself but already spill all over your hands. 

Mansk is cumming and I try to swallow everything I can but the white ropes of cum are spurting out on me and my hands, it’s a mess. 

He’s breathing heavily and I watch how his dick is throbbing in my hand. I myself and completely hypnotised by it and I wonder whether it’s going to go soft but it doesn’t. 

Mansk has his head tilted back while he steadies his breath before he looks back at me. 

“Can you do another round?” I ask, licking some cum off my hand and then licking my lips. The sight of that has Mansk feeling sure that he can do it. 

“Fuck yeah.” he breathily says and I grin. 

I sit back on my legs and pull my top over my head while he watches me with heart eyes. 

I throw it to the side and quickly, my bra joins it on the floor. Mansk is speechless, still unable to wrap his head around the fact that you are doing this here with him. 

My shorts and underwear are gone in the next second and Mansk sighs while letting his lust-drunk eyes rest on the newly exposed parts of your body. 

He sits up once I’m naked but he keeps his hands on the side, not sure whether he is allowed to touch me or whether I even want that. 

“You’re so cute.” I smile at him, sliding my hand over his head while one of my hands holds his cheek. 

His cheeks heat up even more and he can’t suppress the big smile that formed on his face. 

“Who’s making you blush this bad, huh?” I ask, in a teasing manner and he chuckles, dropping his head but doesn’t answer because we both know the answer. 

I lean forward and connect our lips once again. This time we are closer and I arch my bare chest into him. 

The make-out session is heavy and soon he builds up the confidence to touch me. It starts out small, with his fingertips lingering on my thigh. Then he holds my waist.

I grow impatient, wanting to feel more so I take his arm and wrap it all the way around me. Mansk presses me right against him, wanting to be as close to me as possible and he moves his kisses from my lips to my jaw before he starts to mark my neck in hickeys. I don’t even care if they will be visible, I need him more than anything right now. 

I run my hands along his shoulders, appreciating every part of his body that I can and then my fingertips reach his braid and I let my hand glide down it. Mansk sighs into the crook of my neck and I decide that I need to feel him now. 

I look down between us and grind myself down against him. He stops what he’s doing and relishes in the feeling before leaning back a little. 

I watch as his hand travels between our bodies and he rubs the inside of my thigh before gliding his finger over my pussy. I whine, forgetting how good it felt to be touched like that. Maybe I needed this just as much as he did. 

He was rubbing me and I rested my head on his shoulder, closing my eyes. 

Before long, he pushes his finger halfway into me and I tensed up. It was obviously much bigger than my fingers and already stretched my walls a little but I tried relaxing again. He carefully pulled it out and repeated this action, thrusting it in a little further each time. 

After a while, Mansk was fingering me knuckle-deep and then he added a second fingers and I held on tightly to his arm. 

“Fuck-” I whimper and he just leans down and presses his head against mine in a form of comfort. 

“You’re so pretty.” he whispers, making me blush. I hide my face by pressing it against his torso and he smiles. 

I finally start to relax and it feels good but just then Mansk pulls his fingers out of me. I watch as he puts them in his mouth and licks them clean and it makes my heart skip a beat. 

“God you taste amazing.” he groans, kissing my cheek before reaching for his dick which is almost pressing up against his stomach. 

I lift my waist up a little more and Mansk supports me by holding my hip. He lines himself up with me, pressing his tip against my entrance. 

“Go slow, please.” I say, a little worried about how it will feel. 

“Yes ma’am.” he smiles, pressing his forehead against mine and rubbing his hand up and down my thigh. 

Slowly I lower myself down and I feel the resistance. I adjust my position a little and push myself further down until finally, his tip pushes inside me. 

Mansk’s mouth drops open and he relishes in the feeling of how I’m hugging him. 

Even this would be fine with him. He just needs to make sure you feel good.

I clench my teeth together, stopping for a moment before letting myself sink down. The further inside me he goes the thicker he becomes and I’ve never felt anything like this before. 

Mansk isn’t pushing me down at all, he’s letting me go at my own pace. Meanwhile, his eyes are fluttering closed and he’s trying to gather all his self-control to not spill just from how tight you are around him now.

I don’t manage to bottom out but neither of us expected that. He hit my cervix with his tip and he was just a little over halfway inside me. 

I dig my nails into his skin, trying to fight back the discomfort and closing my eyes. Mansk notices and gets worried. 

“I’m sorry…” he softly says, guiltily looking at me to make sure I’m still okay. 

“Don’t be. I’ll be fine in a few minutes.” I say and give him a smile before readjusting myself on him. 

“You feel so good.” he whimpers, cradling my body with one arm while holding himself up with the other. 

I smile, glad that I can please him. 

For the next two minutes, I just stay like that, needing to get used to him. 

After that, it doesn’t feel like such an intrusion and I nod. 

“It’s okay now.”I breathe out and his eyes shoot open and meet mine. He returns the nod and I slowly move up before letting myself sink down. 

I set a slow pace and know that I won’t manage to keep it for long. Luckily Mansk helps me out by guiding my movements. 

It starts feeling good and with time my legs turn to rubber and it’s Mansk who is moving me up and down his length. Both his hands are on my waist while mine rest on his shoulders and he’s effortlessly lifting me before pushing me down again. One would think that the person on top has control but that is definitely not the case. 

As soon as the first moan leaves my lips, it encourages Mansk to pick up the pace a little. 

His ears are once again strained back as he focuses on making us both feel good. 

My eyes are glossy because I’ve never felt so full in my life and he was managing to hit all the good spots inside me at once. 

“Mansk-” I moan, starting to feel hazy. “Don’t stop.” 

He hisses, your words making a volcano of butterflies erupt in his stomach. 

“Y/N- I can’t hold it much longer.” Mansk pants. 

“It’s okay, I’m almost there…” I reply, feeling the tension build up in my lower abdomen. His hand dives between our bodies again and suddenly his thumb is rubbing against my clit. 

I moan out his name again, letting my own head fall back while Mansk continues to fuck me down on him. 

I feel his dick twitch and his eyes close as he chases his high. It’s all too much for me and with the next thrust, he pushes me over the edge. 

My pussy clenches around him as if it weren’t already tight enough and it drives Mansk feral. He’s cumming right behind me, filling me up while I see stars. My body trembles while he presses us together again to keep us grounded in reality. 

I gasp for air, leaning against him for stability while his hot breath fans against my back. 

“Holy shit.” I whisper and he chuckles. I notice how his cum isn’t dripping out of me. That’s how tight it is for him. I feel a little sore now that the pleasure is gone but I remain close to him. 

We pull away a little and Mansk gazes into my eyes. He’s about to say something but I cut him off with a kiss. Of course, he doesn’t complain. 

When I pull back I smile, realising I’m in love with him too. He’s the best person I know here. Why not give it a shot?

“I think I love you too.” I whisper and my words make his eyes widen. He wasn’t expecting that either but it made him smile. 

“Let me take you out some time.”  he suggests and I giggle, looking down. 

“Sure.” I reply and Mansk pulls me into a hug. 

We clean ourselves up and he sets a day for the date. 

“See you tomorrow.” he says as he leaves. 

“Don’t be late!” I call after him with a grin. 

“I wouldn’t dare to. I’m meeting you.” he says, turning around with a grin. That was so cheesy it made me blush. Fuck.

This evening went much better than expected.

Tag List: @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @number1gal

[danddymaro]

Flattered | Vincent Sinclair x Reader

I watched it again lol. 

perhaps fluff, ( YK, as far as slashers can get with fluff)

Word count: 1483

Flattered

Your finger lightly petted the falling wax that gently ran down the long, white candle, toying with it betwixt your thumb and pointer before it cooled into a thin coat over them.

You released a little hum before using a nail to peel off the remains with ease, soon feeling just a bit happy with how soft your skin felt afterward.

 Though, the delight was short-lived.

- It usually was.

Boredom had you sitting here with a halfhearted gaze, wondering if you'd ever get out. 

The man that held you captive did nothing much but put himself to work, occasionally looking back at you to confirm that you were still there. 

As if you could go anywhere else but under his nose.

It made no sense as you didn't know where else you could go but sit, making you wonder why he did so, so often.

"I'm not going anywhere," you reminded him in a soft voice as you then lay back on the bed there. 

It was the only thing that had been saved from the touch of the melted substance he worked with, and you were grateful. You were surrounded by it.

"Can't," you mumbled before closing your eyes tiredly. 

Like hell you'd try anyways when his brother was lurking anywhere the masked one wasn't. 

'I'm better off here,' you inwardly mused.

If you were completely honest, you preferred being stuck with this man instead.

 At least he just kept you there at a distance, something the other one had trouble doing when you first got into town.

You didn't even want to think about what he would have done to you if Vincent hadn't intervened, pulling you to him with a sort of claim that had you conflicted.

Because you didn't know if being with him was going to be better or worse, luckily, things had gone pleasantly thus far. 

-You weren’t dead and that counted as a victory.

He didn't try and touch you, excluding the few moments his soft hands grazed your cheek, feeling the texture of your flesh to what you concluded was inspiration to his more innocent work. 

Gently his fingers trailed the line of your lower lip, and as you tried to follow the movement of the exploring digits, your eyes practically glowed at the act. 

He wasn’t stupid enough to think of it as anything other than utter interest, but even then he adored the look you possessed.

You quickly lost your initial cowering when you realized he wouldn’t draw lower than our jawline, or roam anywhere else other than your face.

So, you let him do as he pleased, occasionally voicing out little teases that got you little, flustered responses. 

‘Having fun?’ you questioned him while trying not to laugh to much at the way his movements would be interrupted by a sudden, minuscule jerk that would be akin to a stutter in someone’s voice.

You noticed the way his fingers would tremble, and for whatever reason it was ….cute.

For just a moment you opened your eyes again, a half-lidded look pointed to where he continued to run the warm metal utensil over little mistakes he’d made.

You blinked your eyes open wide before you suddenly turned your whole head, your face pointed to his direction, your entire body soon following the movement until you lay at your side, observing.

‘Is that what he’s been up to?’ you asked yourself, realizing how it made sense the amount of times he stared at you, studying.

"Is that me?" you asked with a touch of a smile, asking from where you now sat, your legs hanging off from the side of the bed. 

At the finishing details, you finally found yourself eased enough to ask just as he took a step back to give it a final once over.

Granted for the past few days, you hadn't talked , but the simple boredom of all those hours had you begging for some interaction.

At your question Vincent turned back to you and nodded slowly before looking down, shifting awkwardly. 

You watched as his hands toyed with the tool he held, and as you observed, you detected what was perhaps bashfulness. 

His lack of words made his body language much more exaggerated, that was for sure. 

But, of course, you didn't mind much.

"Can...um...can I get a better look?" you asked with a crooked smile, waiting for his response. 

His head shot up and he looked at you for a long minute before he nodded. 

You weren't sure why, but you felt a bit amused before you walked over to him and the wax figure, eyeing it as it was just at your height. 

Your hand went out to touch it before it retreated, and you looked up to the massive man, uncertain, 

 "Can I?" you asked, afraid to ruin his work.

Though, he nodded fiercely, the hand closest to him hesitating before it reached for yours, guiding it towards your replica's face. 

That's where you started, petting an eyebrow before skimming down it's chin. 

You then brought the hand to your own face, feeling the difference with awe. 

"It's amazing," you said while looking op to him, the single eye that stared you down holding appreciation. 

Though, you could hardly see it as it was hidden by the shadow of his mask and jet black strands that had framed his face. 

"You're really talented," you told him, flattered by the work, moreover appreciating that he had only used you as a muse and not the base for his sculpture. 

"I'm nowhere near your skill, but maybe I can sculpt you sometime, " you joked while looking the work over more.

He even caught the fabrics of your clothes right, making you softly sigh.

 It had only been a silly remark, because you doubted you could pull it off anyways, but he seemed elated. 

his hands both took your wrists captive as he turned you towards him, the act nearly tearing a scream out of you in frightened surprise. Other than the first time he’d practically tore you out of his brother’s brute grasp on you, it was the first time he’d used any real force.

 He lightly shook you as he bent down a bit, looking down with a tilted head, not speaking, but communicating with a nearly muted hum you found somewhat endearing. 

Quickly, your terror subsided as you took in his response.

"Ah, You like that idea?" you said with a short chuckle, and he nodded quickly, excited. 

"I'll take that as a yes," you said as you eased your wrists out of his grip, only doing so thanks to the dying pressure of his hands.

He'd never had anyone try and capture his likeness. 

Not even he bothered to do so.

 But you had offered, and it was something he didn't know he yearned for until he watched you try and mimic the steps he'd taken to create yours. 

You explained to him how you’d work on a much smaller scale, the figure no larger than six inches, giving you a small enough goal that didn’t require all of his precise touches.

He helped you start of, slowly guiding you with silent advise and little nudges you smiled at.

You were somewhat sloppy, and when you weren't, you were far too considerate, your pace careful, almost afraid of messing up. 

Soon after, he let you try your hand while he sat back and watched for hours, giving you the workspace needed to become familiar while he stayed out of the way. 

However, it didn't mean he sat back and did nothing, because he found the sight of you moving around his usual workspace to be charming as you copied many of his movements , even the unnecessary ones. 

It was cute watching you move around in his apron with no real direction. 

He’d help you out, but given how determined you were to do it on your own, he refrained from it after you pleaded with him on the first attempt.

Flattered was in no way near what he felt, because it was far greater. 

In his sketchbook he recorded the various faces of your process, the purse of your lips, the lines of frustration and consideration that decorated it too. 

-And especially your moments of little victories as you saw your efforts pay off.

Even the light smudges of dried wax you had dotted on your cheeks as you wiped them occasionally had been captured. 

He recorded it all on paper, and hoped that after he finished the moments, you thought of them as fascinating too. 

Gently his fingers ran down the slick wax that protected his face, realizing how warm he felt beneath the mask, his cheeks flushed with color that spread over his ears too. 

for a moment you looked back at him, his living muse smiling preciously. 

[lamamasjamas]

Love at First Sight (2/9)

A/n: Had to redo some of this and the first part because I want the story to be cohesive and neater. Most likely going to happen with all of the other works too.

Warnings: Dark!Din, Dub-con Smut, breeding/ pregnancy kink, pregnancy stuff, Stockholm Syndrome, kidnapping, I love making Din super lovesick and sweet lolz, Dark Fic!!!!

Love at First Sight Masterlist

He’s been conditioning you. He revels in the way your thighs clench together whenever his hands wander over your body.

At first, he let you isolate yourself, keeping yourself in the bunk as he piloted the ship, letting you take the cot every night. He didn't even try to interact with you, keeping himself busy with the child, his bounties and credit collection.

He would allow you outside of the ship, trusting you to be completely alone with Grogu. He was surprised by how you never once triggered the tracker embedded on your bracelet. He didn't know you knew that he had modified a cattle tracker into a shiny golden pendant.

You'd woken up with it your first morning in the Razor Crest. The soft hum of it was hard to locate at first. You lacked the tools to deactivate them.

He had plans. He wanted to find a home planet. Soon. Preferably somewhere adequate to raise his children. The holopad he conspicuously left out in the hull while he was out one evening was full of data files on hundreds of mid-rim planets.

Most of the planets he landed on were among those in the holos. They were safe, quiet, and isolated. Once you had found the pad, he checked which images you would stare at the longest, which descriptions you would read with rapt attention.

He would watch as you would glance outside of the ship. You clearly had a preference. Your eyes would glimmer in regions with cooler temperatures, lots of trees, deciduous and changing with the seasons.

As the fifth month of your Razor Crest residency arrived, he lost his patience. He thought finding a planet would come easier. Some were perfect but the people were too hostile. Some the opposite.

He was tired of the lack of communication. The dead silence whenever he was around.

He would start to get you used to his presence; the way he could make you feel. If only you would give him leverage.

You would often hear him pleasuring himself, murmuring about how you looked so beautiful carrying his child. How you would look so pretty all cock-dumb and fucked out over his bed sheets in a real home.

You would try to sleep after, but you couldn’t help but think of the way wetness dampened your underwear and how a part of you thinks back on how he pleased you back in your home. Before you realized his plan to take you.

You would usually stare half awake at the panels above you. Shifting uncomfortably against the small bunk that only seemed to get smaller as your bump grew.

He broke the silence one day while he was making portions, he stated how he had enough credits to buy an isolated unit near farmlands. A sleeping Grogu was taken out of your arms and placed in his metal bassinet. With a press of a button it was closed shut, leaving you alone with 'Din'.

You'd spoken directly to him a couple of times since your taking. His name was revealed to you the day you had woken up. Despite your anger, the fear, and the desperation to be free, you often caught yourself thinking of his name fondly.

Who would have known a bounty hunter to have such a simple name.

You blinked up at him in confusion. He sighs wistfully. As he sat down on the blankets and pillows he set up on the floor as a makeshift common area in the Crest, he reaches for your hand.

You let him pull you up against him. He’s strong enough so that he could position you any way he wants without your assistance. He pulls his helmet off with a hiss and motions for you to pick up your plate of food.

“We’ll be home in no time,” he soothes. You look back at him in confusion and he just smiles and caresses your cheek. His hands skim over your tunic and stop on the swell of your belly, lightly tracing it up and down with the tips of his fingers.

He cups the underside of the bump, his nose pressing against the side of your neck.

The defeat was present since the beginning. You never fought back, barely argued. Things couldn't have gotten much worse than life in your village, barely able to make it through a work shift without passing out from dehydration or starvation.

Chills run down your spine and goosebumps start to rise. He holds you against his chest for a couple of minutes, urging you to continue eating. Breathing in the scent of your hair and lightly caressing your belly.

Then his hands move further down and caresses over your mound, you shiver. A shot of pleasure goes up your spine. He continues to ‘accidentally’ rub against you in between his praises of how well of a mother you’ve been. Especially to Grogu, whenever he was gone.

You were throbbing by the time you were done with the portions, mumbling that you were full. That prompted him to ask you to feed him spoonfuls in return. He didn’t want to put anything to waste. It felt very intimate, especially with the way he loudly chewed next to your ear and groaned as if he was eating gourmet cuisine, almost mimicking the sounds he made when he last had you in your bedroom back in your home planet.

The baby cried, you were grateful for the respite, especially as he was starting to graze over your inner thighs. You excuse yourself to the restroom and curse yourself. It was the hormones, it had to be. You wouldn’t be this affected by his gentle touches otherwise.

He’s been doing the same technique afterwards for a little over a month. Grazing over your ass as he walked by. 'Accidentally' cupping your breasts and lightly squeezing as he mewled over your bump. Having you sit over his erection whenever you ate 'together'.

You hate the way your body now responds to a simple touch on the shoulder and jumps to imagining him thrusting into you against the side of the hull.

It got worse when you were finally 'home'. He was able to find a small house in a planet you didn’t know the name of. He didn’t allow you to even step outside the door. He said it was too dangerous.

You questioned him, considering you were a long way from other people. He never answered. Instead, he would hold you close to him and reassure you that it was safer for you and the baby.

Grogu was off to school, taken by his father almost every day. How come he wasn’t fussing constantly over him?

The one positive from being stuck ‘home’ was that he was barely there. You rarely had moments where he would make you want to rip his armor off and feel his skin on yours like months before.

He would often go to earn credits working odd jobs. He'd leave you with the promise that soon, if you complied instead of ignoring all of his advances at becoming a family, you too would accompany him out one day.

He didn’t like the idea of keeping you as if you were a nanny to his children. Just a doll he could stare at and fondle.

But because you were currently pregnant and you didn’t reciprocate his kisses and touches, he thought it was best to keep you where you were. You had enough time alone to think about ways to escape, but with your growing condition the thought was dissipating quickly. You felt tired, nauseous, heavy. Your feet were swollen and even thinking of the months to come made you dread even thinking of being alone. In some sick way the bastard has debilitated you in this form.

That didn’t stop him from praising you though. He likes to watch as you started to waddle around, chasing after his son, now yours, and play with him. Pride is all he feels when he sees the kid patting your stomach in question and you softly explain to him how there was a tiny person growing inside.

“The villagers have been asking for you,” he says one night, as you pull your hair away from your face in front of a mirror he bought you on his recent trip to the markets.

You hum absentmindedly, looking at anywhere but the reflection as he steps closer behind, wrapping his arms around you. “Is that so?” you question sarcastically. He ignores your tone.

“Mm.” He slumps over you, putting his head on top of yours. His eyes lower to your stomach and his brows furrow.

Skimming past your second trimester you outgrew all of your old clothes including those of the man behind you. His stare made you fidget. You feel embarrassed as you try to tug the tunic as far down as it can go. A sliver of your skin still peaks through.

You feel tears well and blur your vision and you try to look away from his now worried eyes. Your hands move to cover your face, but he stops them quickly, asking you what was wrong.

“My clothes don’t fit,” you whine. You think of how stupid you must sound. The way you could be thinking of many other worse things that he’s done to you, for example kidnapping you, and you think to complain about this.

“I’m so big. I'm just so...,” you sigh weakly. His grip tightens on your hands reassuringly and he plopped a kiss to the side of your head.

He’s always liked his women with some meat on their bones. He liked the thought that your body was changing because of him. Seeing you now, insinuate that you're not the most beautiful creation the maker has ever made, made his eyes twitch in irritation. Not at you, of course, but the way women are viewed.

In his culture women are respected as if they were goddesses. They are the foundations of their kind. Seeing you now look at yourself in disdain made him feel like a failure. He failed to take care of you as a spouse should.

All because he never touched you properly, fully and with his full intentions. He's teased you for months, never going farther than a few raunchy touches.

He kisses up your neck and you freeze. His hands wander downward, under your pants and underwear. His hand was so large that you could see it straining the seams of your pajamas.

“You’re beautiful,” he says as he flicks his wrist to palm over your mound, grinding it against you. You gasp as he continues, watching over you through the mirror as you twitch and lean your back further into his chest.

You sigh shakily as he inserts a thick finger inside of you. Then another as your eyes close shut tightly. The sound of your slick cunt resounds around the small room, your hand makes its way behind his head, pushing his mount against your neck and shoulder.

He brings you to climax easily. Your legs threaten to collapse but he catches you.

The rest of the night he praised your body, your caring personality. Often mentioning how you would be such a caring mother to your next child and children.

You were barely awake and on the verge of passing out. You felt as if you’ve exerted yourself trying to keep up with his burning touches. You don’t think you’ve ever been cared for as much as you have been with him.

“Tomorrow we’re going into town to get tunics.”

He presses himself against your back maneuvering a pillow under your body which lays on its side.

He finally presses a kiss to your lips as he pushes a strand of hair from your face. He smiles as he sees you respond back weakly, your eyes closed and lips slack in a light pucker.

[zileans-big-cl0ck]

Hi! hope you are having a nice day :D

Can you please do Jhin x gn! reader headcanons! SFW and NSFW if you want. Please i´m lacking Jhin content :,)

Thank you! Take care <3

✦–Random Jhin headcanons.✦ SFW & NSFW

✦I will definitely not let the League fandom suffer from the lack of Jhin content!

✧ prompt: ✧ totally random headcanons that just appeared to be in my head, because I tend to think about League of Legends hot champions TOO MUCH.

✧ champions: ✧ Jhin, the Virtuoso.

✧ reader: ✧ gender neutral.

✧ author’s note: ✧ As I stated, I will definitely NOT let the League fandom suffer from the lack of Jhin content, even if this means I have to actually WRITE something AND share this. I’m a 300k+ Maestry Jhin main by the way, from the times I actually used to main adc. A very painful backstory, as you see. (As always, please ignore any mistakes. Let’s say I’m tired.)

masterlist

✦SFW:

First of all, you are Jhin’s muse. You are his everything. His inspiration, his devotion, his deepest desire.

That’s the first reason why must you be protected at all costs, kept safely in his mansion. The word ’jealous’ is not worthy of his exquisite person, therefore he prefers being claimed as protective - he is obsessed with you.

It is somewhat between the thrill of keeping his precious muse close to himself (always skulking, always taking care of them) and the repugnant fear of losing them.

You are aware of his perfectionism, but it does not mean that you always have to be on the alert, be the best of yourself, always present your virtues - for Jhin, you are the definition of perfection, you embody the word of ideal creation. He claims you as the noblest person in the world, despite your free opinion on yourself that can sometimes let you down.

Jhin would never let you think of yourself as unworthy of his love, unworthy of life, unworthy of your body (if you ever even caught a glimpse of that feelings).

He cherishes it, your body, and wants you to see yourself in the same light as he does.

Because Jhin is well aware of the fact, that he is the only one who can gaze at you admiringly and see the whole concept of your person, most true and undisputed. He would never be mistaken if it comest to you, to your goregous person, the one he worships and adores.

So Jhin is a romantic lover. He sees no world beside you, no colors and no inspiration. It wasn’t a long time after he realized that his surrounding becomes dull and monochromatic whenever he finds himself missing you.

✦NSFW:

Body worshipping is not like a thing he enjoys, as an artist, a virtuoso, a connoisseur - he thinks it is crutial, obvious. He treats your bodies like an artwork, a composition of two perfectly fitting sculptures.

I would call him a soft dom, though sex itself is a way to express himself for Jhin. In the end, trivial human desires are nothing in the face of performance.

The moment with him is always intimate; I think he would be against any kind of public sex, taking the risk of being caught as aggravating.

But he enjoys gun play. Whisper is a fundamental part of his life, though it is only a weapon- no, not even a weapon. A tool destined to paint his canvas. It has to touch you and you must shiver from the cold feeling of metal against your skin.

I don’t think Jhin is a rough type either. Eventually, he is a sensual lover, placing a great impact in foreplay and the scene around you, so it can be perfect and remain undisturbed.

He appreciates you being needy, though. Jhin finds it amusing to see you squirming for him, maybe even begging. You can always take advantage of his soft spot for you and those little sounds you make.

He is very talkative during sex. Moreover, it is not only teasing, but also reassuring words and sweet promises.

And he is a man of word. You can await him fulffiling every of these dark whispers, sooner or later.

[altraviolet]

Ch 47 sneak peek 👀

Hello and happy winter* festivities** all!

*summer for southern hemisphere **normal day for those without festivities right now

I'm hoping to finish Ch 47 before 2024, but wanted to share a lil sneak peek! Everything below is subject to change, of course, but as of now Ch 47 will be told from Rodimus's point of view.

In case I don't see you again til 2024, wishing you all a very happy seasonally appropriate greeting! All the very best! Excerpt beneath the cut >D

Rodimus awoke in a tangle of tentacles. He stretched, careful to avoid scratching Soundwave's visor. “Mmmm.” He wiggled and settled down against the smooth protoform of Soundwave's body. Soundwave didn't stir.

The low hums and cyclical pumping of the Lost Light's utilities were louder here than in Rodimus's room, courtesy of the torn walls. The sheeny curtain had pulled back, revealing little crystals glowing faintly in their nooks and crannies. With soft metallic ssshhhks, Soundwave's tentacles repositioned themselves around Rodimus. They always moved so their cool sides coiled against him. Rodimus wasn't sure if they got too hot when touching him, or if they liked being warm and moved to distribute his heat evenly.

Rodimus traced a burned section of tentacle with a fingertip. Its metal was darkened and marred by tiny ripples. The segments were offset, preventing the tentacle from coiling properly. It bent into a soft corner. A rounded corner.

Rodimus snerked to himself.

It wasn't really a laughing matter. Rodimus gently pet the darkened metal. Its tiny ripples caught in the mechanisms of his palm. He'd dealt this damage. He felt bad about it. But... not guilty. Soundwave didn't deserve to be burned. But Rodimus wouldn't fault himself for his body's defenses.

Besides, Ratchet had a plan to fix it. They were gonna fix it, just like they'd fixed the holes in his chest, and they'd both be good as new.

"A virus.”

“Compassion.”

“I only want yours.”

Rodimus grinned to himself. No one had believed him when he'd said Soundwave would find his place. Hell, there were times when he barely believed it. But he'd done it. He, Rodimus, proud co-captain of the Lost Light, had shown this emotionally-starved, devastatingly loyal Decepticon there was another way. A better way. And now Soundwave was flourishing. He had friends, and a really weird but wonderful hobby, and tendrils that could leave a mech gasping in pleasure. And holy hell, Rodimus never would have thought that last thing was a thing, let alone it could be true, let alone he'd be the mech gasping.

“Preferred: Rodimus, happy.”

The grin faltered. Of course Rodimus was- well, he was happier. That was good. And of course his new bedmate would want him happy. That made total sense. That's what a good friend would want. What a lover would want.

What a lover would-

Rodimus wrenched himself from that train of thought. He scanned the room, desperate to distract himself. The desk was cluttered, projecting a dim data cascade in Soundwave's native cyphers. The makeshift shelves were crammed full of random tools and crystals. Bare wiring poked through in places, backdropped by shadowy pipes and conduits.

It was barely recognizable as Drift's room.

Maybe it never had been.

…

Oh, it had been. It definitely had been. And he'd been on this bed before, tangled up in limbs, feeling serene. Feeling at peace. Feeling like the mech beside him was a beacon, and for the first time since their initial jump, he could see where he wanted to go.

That bright and gentle feeling tightened in his chest.

No! Shut up! It's not happening again!

Rodimus knew he should get up for his own good. But his frame would not obey. He found himself burrowing harder into Soundwave, willing that cool body to shield him from those memories. Beat them away. Bury them. Better still, forge new ones. He wanted – he hated that he wanted – Soundwave woven into the fabric of his reality. Heavy in his arms and weighty against his plating. Too weird and wonderful to be washed away by the tides that pushed and pulled at Rodimus.

Soundwave stirred. His visor onlined with a flash. It displayed a rapid pulse. “Rodimus: agitation?”

Rodimus's field perked up out of habit, ready to push the concern aside. Dammit. Soundwave always knew when he was lying through his field. He didn't like it.

“False field express-”

“It was automatic. I didn't mean it.” Rodimus shoved the false cheer away. His true feelings seeped out. He couldn't hide them, but that didn't mean he had to explain them, either.

Soundwave's tentacles snapped up, tendrils sampling the air. “Rodimus: afraid? Danger in vicinity?”

“No,” said Rodimus. He parted the sheeny curtain and pushed himself off the bed. “Old thoughts. Don't worry about it.”

A tentacle wound around his arm. “Rodimus: needs...?”

“Breakfast.” Rodimus pulled away. The tentacle's biolights slid under his fingers, one by one. Blue light peeked between the bevels of his joints. “Why don't you sit with Nautica and Blaster today? We don't want people getting suspicious.”

The tentacle retreated. “Affirmative.”

Rodimus returned to his room via their secret door. He gave himself a big smile in the washroom mirror. A big, huge, totally happy smile accompanied by a forceful spoiler raise. Rodimus scrubbed faint, dark paint marks from his plating and polished his biolights. The glass of his body dulled when pressed against Soundwave's for hours. Rodimus didn't bother to wonder why. The explanation was always dimension stuff.

[speedforce-zoomies]

“Can I ask you a question?”

Janet turned to face her semi-regular visitor, an alternative version of her son, and boy, wasn’t that a sentence?

“Different from the ones I’ve been asking, I mean?”

“Oh course, birdie.”

It had been rather awkward for the both of them the first time Janet had instinctively used a pet name that she used for her own Tim, one that his Mother had also used for him.

He had blinked away tears so quickly that if she hadn’t known all versions of her son so dearly she would have thought she had imagined it.

From that point on she made sure to only call him Tim or Birdie, a pet based off his hero identity, (and it still took the breath out of her lungs to think about any version of her baby fighting criminals with nothing but a belt full of tools and a metal staff. Her fear for him was not at all canceled out by her pride). The name deemed safe since her own Tim was a civilian.

Though, even “Tim” got confusing sometimes when trying to differentiate between her son and the son of dead version of herself.

She had asked if it would perhaps be better to call him Jackson and he had frowned at the suggestion, suggesting Alvin or Carl as alternatives instead with a sudden, sly smirk and a snicker when he saw her expression.

He smiled at her now, a soft, gentle thing, that spoke of comfort but his eyes were sad.

“Do you think…” he paused, “Do you think, if things were reversed between our worlds and you had passed, sorry, this is, uh, um a pretty heavy question...”

Tim trailed off, eyes glued to the bare white wall across from him and Janet walked over and sat beside him, not touching, just silently offering support.

“It’s okay, it’s obviously burdening you, let me carry some of the weight. What’s on your mind, Birdie?”

“If it were you that had die-passed, and your Tim had access to trans-dimensional travel, would it… would it make you sad or hurt your feelings if your Tim was to visit my mom?”

Janet paused, thinking it over.

Tim didn’t look at her, allowing her to consider her words carefully.

“A little bit, I think. Not hurt, but sad, because of course my preference would be to be a part of his life. However, even if it would make me a little sad, it would mean the world to me that another Janet was able to open up her arms to my son, that he had found a way to ease his pain, even if just a little bit.”

He smiled at her and it was watery.

“You know, when I come to visit, I take the information you give me and I go though my Mama’s stuff, almost like I’m gathering clues here and putting the pieces together there.”

He paused, trying and failing to not fidget.

“I had no idea, about the Emily Dickinson poem, until you told me and then I went home and she had used that poem in a couple of her poems and social media posts.”

He leaned in to her space.

“It’s nice, getting to learn about her, even now that she’s gone… I appreciate you, you giving me the chance to do so.”

Janet gently bumped shoulders with him, “Of course, Birdie.”

“It also kind of feels weird,” he confessed, “to investigate my own mom like this.”

Janet hummed, and took a chance, “Well, you are two anthropologists’ son, investigating the dead is kind of in your blood.”

Tim choked out a laugh, “Yeah,” he huffed out, voice low and rough but still amused, “guess you’re right.”

He leaned back against the sofa, “She’d love that, I think, being an anthropological revelation.”

“I’d be flattered, certainly.”

Tim snickered at that.

“Do you think your Tim is gonna be an anthologist. Like you and his dad?”

Janet hummed, “Maybe. He enjoys coming out to digs on holidays and summer vacations. But he also enjoys his photography and he keeps making jokes, that I’m not entirely sure are actually jokes about becoming a professional skateboarder.”

Tim snorted in amusement, “Well, I’m rooting for him if he goes for it.”

Janet grinned. “I will too, if that’s his passion in life, though I will expect him to have a backup plan, of course.”

“Of course.” Tim agreed.

“Anything but vigilante!” She shook his shoulder gently, “I already have one of those to worry about!”

He laughed, and he didn’t sound like her own Tim when he laughed.

He sounded like her, or well, she thought, another version of me.

——

I wrote a lot of words just to say I’m not over Batman (2016) #134 & I never will be ^.^

[dilfsonic]

PLEASE tell me more about Sonmetadow! Anything at all- headcanons, meta, just rambling about them, anything!!

Sorry this is so late!! But I wanted to answer this for a while.

> Metal gradually develops complicated feelings the longer he’s allowed close proximity with his organic copy. As an AI he learns constantly, but given he’s only ever around Eggman his emotionally intelligence can only go so far. The more he watches, learns from, and mimics Sonic, the more his emotional intelligence grows. And the more he ‘feels’ what Sonic feels (this headcanon is derived from a mix of the OVA movie from the 90s and modern iterations).

> In my au, Metal naturally forms feelings for Shadow because SONIC has feelings for Shadow first. Metal inadvertently mimics these emotions and they develop the longer Sonic’s emotions influence him. In turn he becomes influenced by Shadow’s feelings…it’s a never ending feedback loop, feeding into one another.

> Metal may mimic their emotions to begin with, but as he becomes more advanced, he comes to grasp his own uniquely complicated feelings. He hated Sonic, but it was a hate he was programmed with. When hardwiring meets fallible emotion— which comes out on top? That’s the question. He now can no longer tell if he wants to be his organic copy or if he wants to be WITH him. Sonic has a unique ability to the touch the core of those he empathizes with, and I think if he got past Metal’s hardwiring/if that was ever compromised, Metal has the potential to be the most touched by him.

> He’s still learning, he never ‘finishes’ developing and therefore his feelings are ever evolving, the more self aware he becomes and can begin to pinpoint and predict his own feelings. Sonic is his primary guide in this, while Shadow (who is peak example of holding onto very complicated emotions) kind of learns alongside with him.

> Metal and Shadow bond a lot over things that have been brought up in canon. Shadow has a unique and interesting facet of his character in which he’s shown to consistently show a great empathy and understanding of robots and androids. Metal Sonic, Omega, Emerl, etc… Particularly with Metal, who has a similar dilemma as Omega, in which he’s a tool for the Doctor, like Shadow was. Whereas canonically Omega defected on his own, Shadow is trying to convince Metal to do it. He won’t hesitate to fight Metal, but he would prefer not to, and he’s set aside their necessary opposition to work with Metal in the past, who was even willing to take the chaos emerald from his own body to give Shadow a chance to warp back home. That’s pretty awesome.

> An interesting observation to me is that Shadow and Sonic are both often in opposition from a moral standpoint, they actually both share a goal with Metal. Both of them extend their hands in offering to him, and encourage him to make his own decisions independent of Eggman. And it’s not that Sonic and Shadow even want Metal to be a hero necessarily— even if Metal were to remain an adversary, they just want Metal to come to that decision on his own. Shadow and Sonic both have a strong sense of freedom in their own ways, and encourage others to exercise their own freedom even if it means that person continuing on their own opposing path.

> In a what-if scenario, seeing Sonic and Shadow combine their efforts to free Metal is really fascinating to me. Metal is like Shadow in the sense where it begs the question, can he really learn to love? Is he capable of that particular emotion? Can he grasp what romantic interest really means? He understands as best he can, and is still learning all the while… Yes, while Sonic and Shadow certainly hold a candle for one another by this point in the story, their ‘love’ is considerably complicated. They’re still rivals, after all. Rivals with benefits, I suppose! Except the longer they’re ‘stuck’ together (affectionate) the more they fall into a comfortable push and pull.

They become sort of inadvertently committed (though Sonic continues to see other lovers he’s kept up over the years, Knuckles and Jet), and it probably stems from the fact that Sonic is canonically one of the only (if not the only) people to touch his heart. They are both still guarded in their own ways, and would probably require many lifetimes over and over to fully learn and know the other, and it’s something they enjoy exploring.

The difference is, Shadow has endless time to learn about Metal, but only one lifetime to learn about Sonic. It’s sort of bittersweet, the way Sonic continues to live on through Metal after he’s gone in lots of little ways, but Metal is still his own unique personhood, and Shadow knows better than to think he could use him as a replacement.

Anyway, sorry for this wall of text!! I have a Lot of opinions and feelings on these guys. They’re my OT3 LOL. Please feel free to ask more questions whether it’s regarding my au or just sonmetadow as a concept in general because I have a never ending fountain of thoughts and scenarios on them.

[happy-beeeps]

Slip of the Tongue

WC: 1.3k

Pairing: PoexMando!reader (Mando a la Sabine, not Din)

Prompt: “You look so pretty” “What did you say?” “I said you look shitty.” from @ghostofskywalker fic exchange because I saw someone write Tech with this prompt and it changed my life.

Warnings: language I guess, but that’s it! Pure fluff~

A/N: This is a oneshot, but I’m gonna start writing more for this pairing soon, I think!

“My favorite thing about you is that you continuously surprise me every day with the new ways you manage to be so stupid.” You say, barely audible over the sound of the power tool Poe is using on one of the open consoles in the Falcon. He cranes his neck over to where you’re at, suspended by a harness working on the ceiling of the ship, head angled towards him.

“And you surprise me everyday with just how romantic you can actually be.” He chirps back, sending you a wink as he gets back to work. You’re grateful he can’t see your expression now beneath your helmet, the glare you’re shooting at him and the rising blush on your cheeks.

Your work on the Falcon seems to neverend, and despite you and Poe’s mutual deep seeded hatred for one another, he’s begrudgingly told you that he “respects your craftsmanship” and refuses to take the Falcon to any other mech in the Resistance. You, in turn, get the immense privilege of working on the ship of your childhood dreams, learning the ins and outs of the hunk of metal. Besides, with Poe comes BB-8, Rey, and Finn, and you much prefer his team to the pilot himself. Today, unfortunately, Poe’s fancy flying has not only placed the Falcon in need of medical attention, but Finn as well, and you’re left alone with Poe to work on the fried circuitry and damaged hyperdrive. 

“What was it this time? Hyperdrive jumping?”

“Correction. I was avoiding hyperdrive jumping by gravity launching, you know, going in and out of the different moons and propelling myself forward with it.”

“Both an impressive technique and an impressive failure.” You sigh, and he pokes his head out to peak at you. 

“What’s it gonna take to impress you, huh Mando?”

You cringe at the nickname. Well, not as much cringe as you do blush, but still. “I’ll be impressed when you can get her back to me in one piece.”

He smirks, “Yeah, but then I don’t have any excuse to come see you.” When you don’t respond at first he continues, “I bet your helmet is getting steamy just thinking about me.”

He narrowly avoids the wrench you throw at his head.

Poe is remarkably frustrating, he has the unique ability of getting under your skin more than nearly anyone you know, and you’ve worked with Mandalorian coverts and Imperials. It also doesn’t help that he’s sickeningly attractive, and knows it, and you can’t help but wonder if you didn’t hate him so much if you could love him. He’s clearly got a soft side, BB-8 is the most precious droid in the world and follows him around like his shadow, and you’ve never known Finn or Rey to be a bad judge of character. Still, there’s something so aggravating about him that you can barely stand to be in his presence. Then, just as he steps back from the spot near the wall to admire his work, you see him in all his glory, and it dawns on you. Poe is remarkably beautiful. His sleeves are pushed up past his elbows, and his curls are flopping haphazardly around his face, partially slicked back with sweat, and despite it you have a fleeting feeling of wanting to run your hands through his hair. His shirt hangs open in the front and clings to his chest, and he has grease coating his hands and running up his arms, and it makes him look even more ruggedly handsome, as if that was possible. 

“You are so pretty” you whisper, then clamp your lips together and pray it was soft enough that it doesn’t get picked up by the modulator in your helmet. Fate is not on your side today, however, and Poe glances at you with wide eyes and a smile.

“What did you say?”

“I said you look shitty.” You respond, voice hurried and nervous. 

He doesn’t buy it, not for a moment, and walks over to where you’re suspended, placing a grease covered hand on the cheek of your helmet. “You sure about that, mando?” Before walking down the ramp of the ship and towards the base. You let go a sigh you hadn’t realized you were holding before removing your helmet, and sure enough, inspecting the large grease-print he’s left on your beskar. 

“Dank ferric, Dameron.” You hiss, but he’s already gone.

* * *

You’re in your quarters, scrubbing away at the stubborn mark Poe left on your helmet, mumbling to yourself, when you’re distracted from your work by a tap on the foot. BB-8 is in front of you, beeping excitedly and rolling around your quarters. “Hey buddy,” you smile, setting your helmet down beside you to pat the little droid. 

“How's the cleaning?” comes a voice from the hallway, and you whip your head back to the doorway to see the insufferable pilot looming in it.

“Come to admire your handiwork?” You say, gesturing to the still spotted helmet beside you.

He laughs and lets himself into your quarters, looking at the various discarded armor pieces and ship pieces lying around before letting his eyes fall back to you. “Something like that, yeah.”

You feel tiny underneath the intensity of his stare, and now worry that you may have 

offended him with your comment earlier. “Look, Poe, I-”

“I was thinking about what you said earlier.”

You wince. “Oh?”

“I think you look shitty too.” He states, walking towards you and picking up the helmer from the floor. “I think you look so shitty with your helmet on.” He brushes a hand over it delicately, so carefully that you stand up immediately.

“Ok, listen, I didn’t mean-”

“You look super shitty when you’re in a flight suit too, when you join us on a mission.” He’s looking back around your room now, and your mouth is opening and closing like a fish. 

“Excuse me?”

“You look even more shitty when you meet Rey for a drink, and you wear that one green top with the,” he moves his arm across his chest to indicate a cutout, you think, when you imagine the green top he’s thinking of.

“Poe.”

“But,” and he moves to stand in front of you, his chest rising and falling quickly now, and you realize how red his cheeks are when he’s standing in front of you. “I think you look most shitty right now, with your hair like this, in your rec clothes, hanging out with bb-8.” And then Poe Dameron does the most unthinkable thing. In a quick movement, he runs his fingers over the hair by your ear, pulls his other hand up to meet your face, and cups your cheeks to bring you in for a kiss.

And oh. Oh. You get it. You get absolutely every good thing that’s ever been said about Poe Dameron before. He tastes like sweets and a little bit of alcohol and smells like fuel and something warm and musky, is it amber? He kisses you with the slowness of a nervous man and the hunger of a starved one, before pulling back and looking at you.

“Did you get it? The shitty thing? Because you said I was pretty and then shitty?”

“I got it, Poe.” You breathe, arms draped around his neck. You haven’t moved since you both pulled apart, and neither of you wants to break the moment first, worried you’ll scare it away. 

He makes the first move, going to play with a piece of hair that slipped free from your braid, running it between his fingers. “You really are pretty, Mando,” he mumbles, and you blush before opening your mouth to respond. He doesn’t let you, instead pulling you in for another kiss. Poe Dameron doesn’t need you to tell him you think he’s pretty. He already knows.

[beeffilledshark]

Had shower thoughts about IBO in a hotel bathroom so I need to have a quick rant about all the dipshits who hate season 2 because they think Orga “just got stupid” or whatever the fuck.

So I decided to make a compilation of all the adults that tried to deceive/use/betray Tekkadan throughout the show

(Note: i didn’t include Nobliss Gordon because I forgot and the app only lets you include 10 images. Also including McGillis because he’s an adult even tho I consider him an Iron Blooded Orphan (but that’s a rant for another time))

Like, is it REALLY that much of a surprise for an orphan child soldier who gets involved with the mob at 16 to want to financially set his family for life by taking the shortest avenue possible? Growing up, he never met a single adult who didn’t view him as sub-human trash or a literal tool, other than Nadi (the mechanic). His first actual role model was a fucking mobster that commanded a ship full of wives. It’s an absolute wonder he lasted as long as he did as an interplanetary political figure.

In his experience, adults will always try to take advantage of him and his family because that’s just how the world works. It’s only a matter of time before the next adult that works with them will try to screw them over and get them killed. He wants to protect those he loves, and to an orphaned child soldier, the only way people won’t fuck with you is if you’re the literal King of Mars.

This poor kid had the weight of an entire family resting on his shoulders and the pressure to give Mika a place he belongs. AT THE AGE OF SIXTEEN. WHAT THE FUCK WERE YOU DOING AT SIXTEEN BECAUSE MY BIGGEST CONCERNS WERE OVERWATCH COSMETICS AND AO3 FICS (I know he’s 18 in season 2 but that mfer did not have the chance to mature between the rapidly expanding Tekkadan responsibilities and the Half-metal trade moving to Teiwaz and, by extension, them).

Also, it’s made painfully obvious that Biscuit fulfills a crucial part in Tekkadan’s decision making. He’s the voice in Orga’s head that tells him he’s going too far or he’s forgetting the rest of the family. It makes his death and the inertia they build towards the fatal endgame all the more tragic.

I’m sure there’s other reasons people dislike season 2, but this is, by far, the point I’ve seen stressed the most when people sight their preference of season 1. I, personally, LOVE season 2 BECAUSE of Orga’s failures. He and Mika easily take the spot of my favorite shonen protagonists because it’s so easy to be swept up in the genre of being the scrappy underdogs that always come out on top by sheer force of will and a LOT of luck. But this is the first Shonen I’ve seen that ends with the protagonists getting utterly fucked because of their inability to not push on and move forward. In a way, it feels like a subversion of the genre and it makes it so much more gripping.

But that’s just my two cents. I’m not denying that Orga is an imbecile, by the way. Look, he says it right here.

[baldursfate]

All Comes Crashing Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Her dreams were haunted by the urges, yet even those were clouded by a vision of ebony and gold. A gauntlet, warmed from clenched fists, pressed into her cheek. Messy hair tickled her sweat drenched skin, full lips meeting hers in a rushed kiss, full of teeth and adrenaline and vigor of a battle well-fought. Breaking away from the union, her dream self looked down at her hand. She was clutching a crown of sorts, though it hummed with an arcane energy. The fires of the hells burned hot around them, yet the metal of the crown was cool to the touch, the details of its making unknown to her. She looked up once more into the eyes of her lover, but found nothing. The memory of this man escaped her yet.

It was some time later before Tav awoke, chained to a crude imitation of a healer's table. She noticed she had been stripped of her equipment, left only in her undergarments. She observed with relief that her body was in tact. The stone slab was cold against her skin, and covered in the life blood and body fluids of countless other creatures. Fragments of bone shard littered the area, the edges uneven as if they had been smashed. A glance to her left revealed a stone bench with a multitude of surgeons tools, not unlike those she saw in the hands of Malus Thorm's apprentices. They were rusting, dull things, and sure to cause insurmountable pain. She shivered involuntarily, and for the first time since the nautiloid, she felt terrified.

As she took in her surroundings, more memories resurfaced. Pain, blood, her dark urges, a call to a father to not abandon his daughter, for her lover to save her. The memories were fragmented still, and along with the dream left a mounting ache in her temples. She knew for certain that she had been here before. Moonrise held the secrets to her past. She focused on the visions, hoping to claw her way deeper into her ruined mind, to find some sort of clue as to how to escape. She needed to act and fast. A whole lifetime had been taken from her, and Tav could not shake the feeling that the perpetrators wanted more.

The sound of footsteps interrupted Tav's quarry. She closed her eyes and evened her breathing, perhaps she could convince the cultists that she was still unconscious. She hoped that they preferred their prey awake and aware. The woman from before strolled up to the table, before roughly prodding Tav in the head. "Wake up, pet. Our games will have to wait. The chosen have congregated at the morphic pool, and our Lady has requested your presence." When Tav didn't respond, the woman grabbed one of the rusty scalpels. Tav felt a burning sensation, and a scream ripped it way out of her throat, her skin torn apart. Her eyes flew open, just in time to see the woman pull the instrument from her torso, and send it into her leg. Tears ran down Tav's face as she struggled in her restraints. "It seems like you've been a stray for much too long, pet. I shall have to domesticate you once more. When I speak, you shall reply, is that understood?" Humiliated and bound without a clear plan of escape, Tav nodded. "Wonderful, then let's get you ready to meet with the Lady. The Absolute blesses us this day, not many get an audience with her chosen."

Rusty shackles were clasped onto Tav's neck, wrists, and ankles before she was roughly pulled to her feet by a chain. A fresh rush of blood poured onto the floor, and she noted that the cut must have been deep. Hopefully, her companions would notice her being transported and intervene. Then Shadowheart could heal her. She limped behind the woman, being pulled at a pace much too quick for her wounded body. Three other cultists emerged from small rooms within the chamber, but were waved away by the woman. This was her pet, and she would be the soul recipient of the Chosen's blessing.

Tav followed the women throughout alleys of undulating flesh before coming to a transport of sorts. Working the cartiligenous controls, it began to move deeper into the colony. As the plate steadied, she was roughly shoved off by the woman and directed down another path.

Eventually, the pair emerged into a large room filled partially with morphic brine, and teeming with necromites. In the middle of the room was a raised platform, and Tav could see the silhouettes of three people. She recognized the tallest one as Ketheric. Tav caught sight of Dame Aylin, secured once again by arcanic shackles. The woman continued to lead Tav further into the room, and as they approached the platform, Tav caught sight of her companions. They were hidden, out of sight of the chosen, and the woman was too focused on her task to notice them. They all stared, wide eyed and horrified as their friend was led past. Tav felt a sense of relief. Although it was not in preferred circumstances, she had been reunited with her companions once more, and now had a fair chance of survival. Feeling more confident, she squared her shoulders and stood as straight as her broken body could, readying herself to face the chosen.

[wanderingsorcerer]

The Sacred Bell

A blessed bell, enchanted with the purpose of expelling the malignant energy from an area or person. Can be created from a glass or metal bell.

These can be created by the practitioner or by outsourcing it to a priest or other holy person. Doesn't matter which religion it simply matters that the belief during its creation is unwavering.

Today I'll go over one of the ways for its creation

Opus Est~

Blood of Caster

Water

Salt

Bowl

5 Candles

Setting Up the Ritual:

To begin, place the bowl in direct sunlight, middle of the afternoon is best as the sun's rays are the strongest(hottest).

Place the Bell in the middle of the bowl.

Surround yourself with candles in a five point array, take care not to light them yet.

Make sure the other ingredients are nearby and you can start the Ritual

Ritual Of The Sacred Bell

Begin by igniting each candle in a clockwise direction, as you light each candle chant:

"Spirit of fire and flame, bringer of light, grant me your power and holy might."

Once the circle has been completed add the salt into the bowl, as you do so chant :

"Salt of the blessed earth, grant me your power and divine touch"

Next add the water, all while chanting:

"By salt and by fire, I (insert Magick name Here) bless these waters and make holy in the name of the old gods and spirits of nature."

Next add the blood of the caster, your blood, this fuels the magick and adds a permanence to the spell, as you do so chant:

"Blood of life, sacred and eternal.

Holiest of water, purifying and kind.

Salt of the Earth, blessed and plentiful.

Fire of Creation, Life Giving and Protective.

I (insert Magick name here) sanctify this tool with the divine properties of the cosmos, with every ring the bell shall banish malignant energy from its midst and bring forth goodness and light"

you will then pick the Bell up and hold it outstretched facing the sun, you will be naming the magical tool. The name gives it strength, it gives it a personality. While I cant give you a name for it I can give you an outline for how you should do it.

"I (insert Magickal Name Here) before the old gods and the cosmos themselves grant the title and name (insert objects name you've made) unto this tool until the end of time, may every time its name is said strengthen a reaffirm its purpose. As it was said so it has always been."

This is just one of thousands of ways to sanctify a bell, if it doesn't vibe with you I always say to make your own. Magick is inherently personal to each practitioner, if you would prefer to have a priest or a rabbi or a Buddhist monk do it then feel free. There's nothing wrong with that<3

Well I hope I was able to teach you a little something on Magick today, until next time :)