#flash redemption sort of

[idk-bruh-20]

Irondad fic ideas #102

When Flash first overhears Peter talking about the "Stark Internship," he rolls his eyes and thinks, "Of course he'd go with that excuse at Midtown School of Science and Technology."

Whatever. Flash knows the truth. He's seen the car that Parker gets picked up in, seen the body guard / chauffeur and the absolutely insane amount of discrete safety tech he always has on. Flash is convinced that the whole orphan thing is just a cover story and Peter secretly has parents at least as rich and influential as Flash's own.

Maybe they're politicians or the mob or something, and that's why all the secrecy. Honestly, Flash is doing him a favor by bullying him all the time for being an unimportant orphan. It's the perfect cover. Maybe he'll even drop the ridiculous Stark Industries lie and come up with a more believable backstory soon.

Then, one day Flash and Peter end up in a kidnapping situation.

The kidnappers take Flash's watch, but they leave some of Peter's tech since it's better hidden. As soon as they're alone, Flash expects Peter to hit that panic button and get them the hell out of there.

Only... he doesn't? Did Peter learn nothing from K&R training? Flash reaches over and hits the secret panic button 3 times immediately, no hesitation. Peter is shocked. Flash is like, "Oh come on, I obviously know your secret."

He's kind of curious and excited now to see who Peter's secret parents are, once the cops get them out of there.

He is not at all prepared when Iron Man bursts through the door.

He's even less prepared when Tony Stark steps out of the suit and totally freaks out at Peter, hugging him and checking for injuries.

... maybe he's finally met Peter's secret parent after all.

[stairain]

Vegas Redemption.

You spot Spencer at a hotel lounge alone, you see has a ring on his finger, but that doesn't stop you.

Warnings: Dom + Rough Spencer, sort of switch reader, brat reader, light drinking, cheating, his wife is cheating on him too so don't worry, cunnilingus, hair pulling, mentions of Spencer getting reader pregnant. 

WC: 7K

A “business trip” is what you had told your friends, when you packed your bags for the weekend and all too eagerly got on a plane to Vegas. After all, being coined the “city of sin” and going just for business seemed foolish. 

Adorned in elegance and dripping in determination, you made your way from your hotel room to the bottom floor with a fiery look of pursuit in your sultry eyes. 

You're walking through the cozy and sultry atmosphere of the hotel lounge, the bar immediately catching your eye. It wasn't because of the wide range of drinks they had on display, nor was it the colorful light fixtures they had installed above said drinks. It was because a beautiful stranger was sitting alone at the bar, keeping to himself as he sipped on his drink. 

You waltz over to him, subtly going to sit a few seats away from him, you couldn't pounce just yet.

He sits at the bar, drinking quietly. The only sign that he's noticed your presence is a slight turn of his head to the side, his eyes fixed on his glass in front of him. He keeps his back straight and his hands on the counter. When you sit close to him, his eyes look up at you and he smiles briefly before taking another sip of his drink. His expression returns to complete indifference when his eyes return to his glass, and he takes another slow, deliberate sip. The drink is probably an expensive scotch.

As he raises the glass to meet his lips, you squint and look at his finger. A ring. The man was married.

But that did nothing to deter you, in fact, it only made you want him more. You would make him yours, he wouldn't belong to whatever woman sported the other ring, not after tonight.

After you order a drink of your own, you slowly get up from your seat, and migrate to the one directly next to him. A playful smile is plastered on your face.

You can see him look at you briefly as you move closer, and the corner of his mouth lifts very slightly - the barest hint of a smile - before he returns his attention to his drink.  He doesn't say anything, but you notice that he sets the glass down more gently than he needed to, in a way that shows he doesn't mind having you close.

You tilt your head to the side a bit as he doesn't immediately look at you, but still flashes the tiniest smile. "What brings you here? Business trip, vacation.. an escape, maybe?" 

Your tone is teasing, insinuating that he was here to get away from whatever wife he has at home, whatever wife he would inevitably be taken away from anyways.

He looks up at you when you speak, the faintest smile on his face, and he runs his thumb along the edge of his glass in the most casual way, as though he's doing it purely out of idle habit.  His eyes scan you for a moment, his gaze stopping over your face and body for just a moment too long before returning to the glass. He seems completely relaxed. His tone is calm and almost lazy when he speaks, and he almost seems amused by you.

"An escape."

Bingo. That was the exact answer you were hoping for. You lean forward a bit and choose your next words carefully. 

"From what.. or who..? If you don't mind me asking, Sir."

The only response you get at first is a faint quirk of his lips, followed by a slow sip of the scotch in his glass. When he's finished, he sets the glass down and looks at you with a mild amusement in his eyes. 

“What's it worth to you, darling?" His voice is low and soft with a hint of a sarcasm, his hazel eyes studying you calmly, with just the slightest flare of interest lurking just beneath the surface of that studied calm.

The bartender hands you your own glass, and you raise it to your own lips, licking over them in a teasing manner before taking a small sip. 

"Everything, depending on your answer."

He lets out a low chuckle after you speak, and you can see a trace of genuine amusement in his eyes now.  His eyebrows raise in a playful way, as though he's impressed, but his tone remains calm when he speaks. 

"Is that so? Very well then."

He turns in the barstool to face you, leaning in casually and running his right palm over the back of his neck for just a moment before he stops. 

"My wife is cheating on me."

You can't help the wicked smirk that creeps on your features at hearing that. Your eyes flash from his ring, back up to his mysterious eyes. Taking another sip from your drink, your other hand reaches out to touch the ring on his finger. You don't say anything.

His smile only grows with your smirk, and you can see the playfulness in his gaze deepen slightly as your hand reaches out and touches his ring. His dark eyes never leave you, and you can see that playfulness in the faint quirk at the corner of his mouth and the twinkle in his eye, as though you both know that he's not planning on staying married for much longer.

"And you want a chance to replace her, don't you?"

His tone is neutral, but there is an undercurrent of amusement in his voice. Something in his expression dares you to say it aloud.

Quickly looking up at him and stopping your movements, your smile only grows. Your touch retracts from him, and you lean back into your own seat. 

"What are my odds, sir?" You say with a cocky tone, lifting your glass to your mouth.

He laughs, as though he appreciates your boldness. You can see the amusement in his eyes grow, and it's clear that your confidence is having a definite effect on him.  His voice is tempting when he responds, and the corner of his mouth tilts up in a teasing smile. 

"Very high, as long as you play your cards right, sweetheart."

"If you're the one dealing the cards, it seems I've already won.." 

The tone in your voice has significantly lowered, but the confidence and cockiness never left, if anything, it only grew. This man would be yours, and by the end of the night, you'd hope to pawn that ring of his and buy him a one way ticket to your place.

He smiles at you as he takes another sip of his drink, holding his position for a moment before he leans a little closer and speaks in a soft tone.

"Now darling, it wouldn't be any fun if I just gave the prize away so easily, would it? Do you know how to play your part, or do you need me to help teach you?" His voice is quiet with a hint of an invitation in it, his smile playful and teasing as his eyes scan you from top to bottom.

"Tell me what to do, and I'm yours." Your chin lowers as you stare at him right in his own piercing eyes, as if trying to challenge him.

His tone is low, and you can hear the amusement still in it when he speaks.  He meets your gaze, his eyes glassy with desire, and he pauses for a moment before the corner of his mouth curls up into a wicked smile. He leans even slightly closer as he speaks, and his voice is a purr.

"Make me want you, darling.”

"Already done, Sir." You arrogantly lean back in your seat and take a sip of your drink, looking unamused.

He laughs at the cockiness in your voice, his smile growing. In the corner of your eye you notice a couple of other people have turned to stare at both of you, and you can tell at least one of them is intrigued by the scene unfolding between you two. Your confidence seems to be having that effect on people.

"So you've already caught my attention, then? That's half the battle. Your next move will have to be enough to make me want to keep you."

"Tell me the part you want me to play then, sir. I don't mind a challenge."

He lets out the ghost of a chuckle.

"Tell you what..." He reaches into his suit coat and pulls out a business card, leaning forward as he sets it on the bar between you. His expression is relaxed, his eyes studying you calmly, and his tone is serious as he speaks.

"How about I invite you to my hotel room? That way I can show you exactly how badly I want you."

You swallow at his words, and pick up the card, trading it for the glass in your hand. 

Dr. Spencer Reid. 

You look back up to him and nod.

"Lead the way, Doctor.”

He smiles at you, his gaze roaming over your face and body again before he nods towards the door. "My room is on the top floor." He stands up from the bar, waiting just long enough for you to get up as well before he begins to walk towards the door and makes his way to the elevator, his movements deliberate and confident. 

"I expected no less from a man like you, Sir." You follow behind him like a dog, trying to keep up.

"Then I expect no less from a girl like you." His shoots back and he reaches out as you follow him towards the elevator to give you a wink. His eyes dart up and down you in that subtle way he had, and his eyes linger on your legs for even just a moment too long before he pulls the hotel room key out of his suit pocket and swipes it through the elevator, waiting for the doors to open before he steps inside, holding the door open as he turns to look at you expectantly.

You walk into the elevator silently, and stare up at him longingly as he walks in and presses the top floor, then stands right next to you. The stretch of his arm, his tall back, it was already driving you mad. There's desire running all throughout your body, and you don't know if you could wait the entire ride up to keep your hands off of him. He no doubt would be able to feel the utter desperation radiating off of you. 

His eyes never leave you as he presses the button for the top floor, and you can tell that he enjoys the effect he has on you. You can see that it only adds to his allure for you, and the closer you get as the elevator rises, the harder it would be for him to resist if you were to start kissing him right now.

And so he doesn't resist. It's not a second longer until his hands are cradling your head, and your hands are grabbing at his wrists as he pulls you in a fiery, passionate kiss, right in the middle of the elevator. You're taken aback, but that doesn't stop you from trying to kiss him back with the same possessive passion he's pouring into you.

He leans against the elevator wall and pulls you in close with a passion that takes you off guard, the sudden heat of his kiss and the feeling of his hands in your hair taking you by surprise and sending electric shocks through your body. The elevator dings to alert you that you've arrived at his floor, and it takes a moment more before he pulls away from you. His gaze is intense as he looks at you, a low moan rumbling in his throat as he looks at you hungrily.

He licks over his lips once, and swallows. 

"You taste like heaven."

It takes you a few seconds to catch your breath and compose yourself after the dizzying kiss, and you breathlessly laugh.

"Just you wait, sir.."

He chuckles, and you can see that the kiss has left him visibly flustered as well.  He takes your hand and leads you out of the elevator and to his room.  He unlocks it with his key card, but before he opens the door he turns to look at you with a sly smile and raises an eyebrow.

"And just what do you mean by that, darling?"

"It wouldn't be any fun if I just gave the prize away so easily, would it, Sir?" You repeat his previous words back to him, and shoot him a wink. He lets out another low chuckle. 

"Well played, dear." He opens the door and steps back to let you go first, and he closes it behind you once you've entered. 

You walk in, not before flashing him a playful smirk. As you step in the room, you're immediately met with such a luxurious atmosphere, it almost makes your jaw drop.

The room is luxurious, with plush carpeting and elegant furniture.  He gestures to a comfortable-looking chair across from a small coffee table, and as he's letting you take in the room he leans against the wall and crosses one long leg over the other. 

"Make yourself comfortable, darling, I'll mix you a drink." His tone is still teasing as he looks at you, and he gives you a quick wink as he turns to the built-in bar to grab the decanter of scotch and two thick glasses.

You nod and try not to let your awe take over your entire mind, you were here for a reason. As you sit down, you turn your body to watch him, and you lick your lips at the sight of him in that suit of his, fixing a drink for the both of you.

Spencer smiles when he sees that you're watching, his tone teasing as he speaks.

"Enjoying the view, are you?" He turns back to the decanter as he pours the whiskey into the two glasses, and he looks at you over his shoulder with a look in his eye that suggests you might enjoy him even more once he takes off the suit jacket and tie.

“Too much, Sir." You bite your lip.

“I can fix that, if you’d like…” He turns around completely to face you. He’s holding the two glasses in his hands now, and he flashes you a knowing look before leaning forward and setting them on the coffee table.

He starts to unbutton his suit jacket, but he doesn’t move to take it off yet. His attention is focused on you, as though he’s waiting for a response before he proceeds.

Your eyes snap to his skillful fingers as they push off the buttons of his suit, and you find yourself looking at him with pleading eyes as you give him a gentle nod.

He smiles at you, his eyes meeting yours for just a moment before he finishes with the buttons so the suit jacket comes off cleanly and easily. He drapes the jacket over the arm of the other chair, and he flashes you another small, taunting smile before he starts to undo the buttons of his dress shirt.

“Would you like me to take this off as well, or save it for later?” His tone is teasing as he speaks, and you can tell that he’s enjoying this exchange as much as you are.

"Keep it on, sir." You softly command before leaning over and picking up the glass from the table. Your eyes travel up and down his body as you take a sip.

He smiles when you command him, and you can tell he likes the control.  He reaches out to grab the other glass, still watching you with soft eyes. His voice is content when he speaks. 

"Well then, darling..." He leans forward just enough to place a kiss on the back of your hand, and he looks at you with an expectant smile, his tone tempting as he speaks. "What would you like to do, now that we're alone?"

You subconsciously rub your thighs together, and lightly moan the slight friction it provides to your aching clit. You sigh and smile up at him. "What happened to a challenge, sir? Seems like you're giving it up quite easily for me.."

"We both know you're the prize.  So.." He gives you another one of his playful winks, taking a sip of his scotch as the two of you look each other over with a faint smile. His eyes flash down to your legs and he tilts his head to the side, looking over your body again with fervent interest as his expression falls into a dark smirk.

"I think the challenge will be seeing who gives in first."

You set your glass down on the table at his words, then suddenly you're grabbing at his tie and pulling him closer to you, making him stumble a bit. 

"Let's see how long you last then, Doctor."

He lets out a soft laugh as you pull him closer to you and he reaches up to place his hands on your hips. His eyes take you in again, and the smirk on his face only grows with every glance.  In this moment he's focused entirely on you, and the desire he has for you is palpable, filling the room and growing with each lingering look he gives you.

"Let's see how long you last, darling."

A smirk is all the warning he receives before you're capturing him in a passionate kiss. Your eyes flutter shut at the feeling of his lips on yours again, and you feel his hands reach out to cradle your face.

He leans into the kiss, his hands holding you close to him and his grip slowly tightening throughout the kiss.  The passion in his eyes matches your passion, and the feeling of his tongue against yours is intoxicating. For the moment, there is nothing else in the world that matters except the two of you, and as he pulls you closer he lets out a soft moan against your mouth that sends a shiver down your spine in the best way possible.

You feel the cold metal of his ring pressing into your skin, and your expression quickly turns into a scowl at the feeling. It was mocking you, he was yours now. Without pulling away from the kiss, you use one hand and grab his, and pull the band off of the digit, before throwing it off.

He lets out a soft laugh as you take off the ring and throw it, his kiss never falters and he wraps his arms around you as he continues to hold you close.

"Oh, sweetheart..." His tone is playful, and you can see the smile in his eyes grows even more as he holds you close. His lips are still close to yours as he speaks in a low voice, and you can feel the rumble in his tone. 

"You're mine now, sir. Forget her." You yank on his tie once more and pull him back in for another intense kiss.

He lets out another soft laugh as you pull him back in for another kiss, one of his hands sliding down to smooth over your ass as the other gently cups your face. He's still very clearly enjoying this, and as he lets out a small groan against your mouth he pulls away just long enough to whisper his next words in your ear while his hands slowly tighten their hold on you.

"What is it that makes you want me so badly, darling?"

Your hands move to the back of his neck as his lips start skimming along your skin, pressing gentle kisses against your neck, and licking over your collarbone. Your eyes flutter shut as you respond. 

"Saw you sitting alone.. Thought you were so handsome.." Your mouth drops open in a moan when he nips at the flesh of your throat. "Then, saw the ring... Just made me want you so much more, just knew I could treat you so much better than she does."

He lets out a soft laugh, and you can feel his lips grazing your neck. The feeling is like a live wire, sending shivers down your spine in the best way possible. You moan again, and the sound is enough to send a thrill throughout his entire body. 

"Is that so?" As his lips brush your skin you can feel the heat in his breath, and he kisses you again, pulling you even closer now. "Is that all it took for you to be ready to take me home?"

"Worked.. didn't it?" You cockily mutter out, your words accompanied by a moan.

"Oh it definitely worked, darling..." He lets out a soft chuckle, his eyes watching yours flirtatiously, and he makes no attempt to hide the desire he has for you. "So tell me, sweetheart,  what is it I get out of this arrangement?"

As he speaks, he moves both of you so he's sitting on the couch, leaning back against the cushion as you're planted in his lap. 

"You leave your wife.. come back home with me, and I'll be yours forever..." You reach down to play with the buttons of his dress shirt, slowly pushing them out of their loops.

His eyes watch you as you play with his buttons, and a smug smile spreads across his face. 

"You drive a hard bargain, darling..." He laughs once more, taking in the sight of you as the buttons come undone.  He has no intention of stopping you as he speaks. "And what will happen if I say no?" 

You give him a small faux pout at his words, you know he's not serious, he's already too deep in this that he can't possibly be serious.

"You really want to leave this hotel room tomorrow, go home to your cheating wife, and think about me for the rest of your life? Wishing it were me in your bed at night, the one you wake up to.." 

You lean down to his ear as you seductively whisper your next words. 

"The one you get to touch, kiss, and taste..?"

He lets out a soft moan as you lean in and whisper in his ear, causing a shiver to run through him as he pulls you even closer to him.

"You're good at this, you know..." His voice is deep and seductive, a playful grin on his face. "I think I'd rather stay with you, darling."

“You’d be stupid not to, Sir..” You lick over his ear, sending tremors through his body at the feeling.

Spencer lets out another soft moan, his body shuddering from the feeling of your tongue on his ear.  He leans back and watches you, a mischievous look in his eye as he's trying to see just how far you'll go.

"And what if I was stupid..?" His tone is still unserious, as if testing you, but he's starting to take charge of the situation now, pulling you closer with his arms and pressing you onto his lap as he leans in and gives you his own passionate kiss.

“You wouldn’t be in this hotel room with me on your lap right now if you were stupid, Sir.” Your hands go to lift the bottom of your dress, teasing him. “You know you made the right decision taking me..”

His eyes flash down to the bottom of your dress as you start to tease him, and his eyes flash back up to yours. He whispers his response in your ear, his voice starting to take on some of that familiar authority and intensity as you continue to tease him.

"Then why don't you help me make sure I never have reason to regret my decision, darling?"

Nodding, you take his large hand in yours and run it under the satiny fabric of your dress, allowing him to caress the soft skin of your hips and waist. As his hands touch your body, you go to finish unbuttoning the rest of his shirt.

He lets out a soft moan as his hand touches your hips, moving his hand up and down your body. Your skin feels so silky under his touch, he could touch you forever as long as you let him.

You can see his eyes looking over you, and he's making good use of every ounce of his self-control to keep from taking you here and now.

"You're not making this easy for me, you know...  But I suppose I'll let you continue." His voice is soft but there's still the ever-present hint of playfulness, and the hint of authority that he's starting to let bleed into the conversation.

“You want it off, Sir?” You let one of the straps of your dress fall from your shoulder, looking up at him with hopeful eyes.

The man bites his lip, letting out a low groan as you start to let your dress fall, and you can see the desire in his eyes is only growing.

"It's killing me, darling..." His tone is heavy with desire, and his expression is full of want. His eyes are glued to you, and you can tell that all he wants in the world at this moment is to have you, right now, right here.

“Take it off of me then, Sir. Earn your prize.” Your voice is low, teasing, and almost cocky. You’ve already taken him from his wife, and now all you wanted was for him to take control over you.

His eyes watch you with intensity as you speak, and he raises one eyebrow in amusement. "Make me work for it, is that it?  Well, I don't mind a bit of a challenge..." He bites his lip once more, and he lets out another low moan as he moves his hand to move your dress the rest of the way off your body.

His hands are moving slowly but purposefully, as if taking his time to admire every little piece of skin he revealed. He lets out a low shiver and a soft moan as he takes in the sight of you in your body, his hands trembling at the sight of you. You can almost feel the electricity fill the air between you as you let him admire every inch of you.

His hands are moving slowly but purposefully, as if taking his time to admire every little piece of skin he revealed. You bite your lip at the primal look in his eyes, and lift your arms when the dress reaches your chest. His eyes land on your bra, and the way it looks like it was made for you, filling the cups deliciously and fitting you absolutely perfectly.

"Why don't we make this a little easier for you, sweetheart."

Spencer practically rips the rest of your dress off your body then leans forward to you into a kiss again, pushing you down onto his lap against the firm bulge in his dress pants. He takes in the smell and sensation of you with that look of desire in his eyes that says everything. 

You let out a small huff when his eager hands practically rip the dress off of your body, but you lean further into the kiss as you moan into his mouth at the feeling of him under you.

He lets out a soft laugh at your noise of frustration, but the laugh dies in his throat as you moan into his mouth. He holds you there for a moment, his mouth moving eagerly and messily with yours, before he pulls away and pulls you closer by your waist to hold you to him. His heartbeat is pounding out of his chest as he presses your burning hot skin against him.

You can feel the heat in his eyes as he looks you over, his breath growing heavier as he gives you a look of pure, unbridled desire, his mind starting to fill with filthy arousal and lust. 

"Now.. I think I'd like to see what's under that bra first.."

He whispers, his tone still full of desire as he looks you over, as though he's trying to memorize every inch of you.

You don't move, just give him a look of bratty defiance.

"If you want it off, you'll have to take it off yourself."

Spencer laughs at your defiance, clearly enjoying your brattiness, and you can feel his chest rumble as he breathes in and out. His eyes start to travel down your body again, and he bites his lip in want. 

"So be it, darling."

There’s an edge of authority to his tone that says you may be in trouble if you continue to refuse. 

You’re willing to challenge that. 

You raise your brow at him and your tone is entirely too sassy towards a man who you know can ruin you and your body in an instant.

"Then get on with it."

You cross your arms over your chest.

He lets out a low chuckle and a sigh at your response, but he doesn't back down. He leans in and speaks in a soft voice, his eyes shining a bit with a light-hearted threat.

"Don't test me, sweetheart.”

His words are playful and his tone is full of desire but you know he's absolutely prepared to follow through on whatever threats he makes. Despite the threat you can see an amused smile on his face as he's watching to see what you do now.

He sighs but you can tell he's enjoying your defiance, his expression going to a smirk as he looks you up and down, watching you with a hungry eye as he drinks you in.

"I suppose this is what I get for letting a brat like you be my mistress..."

He lets out a soft laugh and gives you another taunting flash of his smile, his tone is suggestive once more and his fingers reach around your small frame to find the clasp of your bra. He’s starting to undo the hooks as his other hand begins to move down your body in anticipation for what will come.

“I’m not your mistress.. You don’t belong to her anymore, you’re mine.”

"Oh, is that so, darling?" His voice is full of amusement, and you can see the glint in his eye that says he's more than happy to play along with your bratty game.

"So what does my sweet little girl want from me, then?" His voice is low, looking at you with a mixture of amusement and lust. 

“What she wants is for you to hurry up and undress her." He pulls your bra off of you, and throws it over the arm of the couch, his eyes traveling from the bottom of your breasts back up to your eyes as a grin spreads across his face and he leans even closer to you.

"And what's she going to do if I take my sweet, sweet time?" His words are hushed and accompanied by a playful smirk as he raises his eyebrows at you and you can feel the burning desire in his touch as he moves his hand lower and lower. 

"Then she would ask very nicely for you to hurry up." You let out a soft laugh and try to not let his touch down your stomach and waist distract you.

He lets out a soft chuckle, his eyes shining with amusement as he moves his hands around your body. He's clearly enjoying the show, and he's in no hurry to take your clothes off, instead taking his sweet time getting there.

"And even if she asks very nicely,  what will I get in return? You have to bargain for these things, sweetheart, you know..”

His touch is gentle but insistent, as his hands move closer and closer to the waistline of your underwear.

"I'll give you whatever you want, Sir." Your body trembled with shivers at how light his touch was on you, almost like he wasn't even touching you as he inched closer and closer to your panties.

He lets out a soft chuckle at the answer, his hands continuing to move as they reach the waistline of your panties. 

"We'll see about that, darling..."

His voice is playful, but a little part of you feels the threat in his voice, too.  He clearly wants you very badly, and it's not entirely out of the realm of possibility that he's not completely joking.

Unexpectedly, Spencer reaches into a cabinet sat next to the couch, and rifles through it for a moment before pulling out scissors. Your eyes widen in confusion and disbelief, and the expression only intensifies when he slots the blades of the scissors between your hip and your panties, and snips. You'd almost swear his eyes are shining a little brighter as he drinks in the sight, being so impatient to take you that he’s cutting your underwear off your body.

“S-Sir..” 

You try to reason with him, but it’s far too late. He’s in his own little world as he continues to cut and snip at the delicate lace of your panties, not bothered by your words nor your noises of protest.

There’s nothing you can do but sit there, trembling in his lap as the look of determination and sadism shadows his face. The freezing metal of the blades against your skin do nothing to help your shaking, and it makes the very skin it presses against raise in goosebumps. 

Once he’s cut through the lace on both sides of your hips, he sets the scissors down on the table and pulls off the remnants of your underwear with ease. He’s got a sinister glint in his eyes and in his smile as he gathers them in his hand before setting them on the table next to the blades. 

“You know, she would’ve never let me do that.. But you..” Spencer laughs wickedly, it almost frightens you. “You.. You’d do anything to make me want you, wouldn’t you?” 

You find the bratty attitude you were sporting earlier fizzle into a blazing desire of obedience. Like you weren’t in control of your own body, you nodded. Your lack of speech made him laugh again. 

Suddenly, you’re wrapping your legs around his waist as he’s lifting you from the couch and into his arms. You cling to him like you’ve got no other choice, and can’t help but feel exposed in front of the large glass window. 

Spencer walks over to the large bed pushed against the wall and throws you down on it, and as you land, your legs are spread, as if on command. He bites his lip at the sight of you spread for him, cunt leaking arousal onto his bed sheets, sticky slick coating your beautiful thighs. 

You swallow and watch as he pushes the sleeves of his dress shirt up to his forearms, and runs a hand through his hair before kneeling down in front of you on the bed. He grabs under your thighs and hooks them around the tops of them, flashing that same teasing smile he’s been sporting all night. 

You let out a small yelp of surprise when he’s pulling you closer to the edge of the bed, so your pussy was pulsing right in his face, just the way he needed it to be. 

“This what you meant when you said ‘Just you wait?’, darling?”

His breath ghosts over your wet cunt, and it makes you let out a small sigh of pleasure. You don’t respond, you know he’s not looking for an answer, he’s just looking for a way to stroke his ego, knowing he’s got you right where you were so reluctant to get to. 

“What happened to that smart mouth of yours?” 

“Come fuck it and find out.”

Spencer huffs in amusement. 

“There you are..” 

Is all the warning you get before he’s diving in and burying his scruffy face between your thighs. Your legs threaten to close at the feeling, but he’s already a step ahead of you, holding them down in his strong grip as his tongue licks a long stripe up your cunt, collecting your essence. 

A loud moan is pushed out of your throat at the feeling, and your hand instinctively reaches out and down to grab at his messy hair. He only groans at the feeling though..

You’d have to explore that later.

But for now, you couldn’t focus on anything else except the way the thick, wet, muscle of his tongue was swirling around your sensitive clit, sucking and kissing at the nub. He was teasing you, you both knew if he kept this up, you’d be cumming on his face and around his tongue in no time, and you didn’t want that. 

You couldn’t embarrass yourself in front of him like that, especially when you know how much shit he’d give you for being able to make you finish that fast. 

And still, your head spins with each calculated and tortuous movement his tongue makes over your pussy. He moves down to slide his long tongue into you, finally. You whimper at the feeling and clench around him. 

Spencer eats at you like a starved man, and you’ve been pushed to believe that maybe he is. With the way he’s tongue fucking you.. making you gush on his lips and drip down his chin? You can tell he’s needed this for a while. 

You lift your head from the bed to look at him, and you can see he’s already staring daggers into you. He shoots you a wink and it almost makes you roll your eyes at his cockiness.  

“Why- oh fuck.. Why don’t you fuck me, sir? I know you want to..” You pant out and grip his hair harder, twisting it in your fist. It makes him moan into your cunt, and the vibration makes you gasp. 

He pulls back for a moment, and speaks quickly, like he’s been preparing his answer for a while now. 

“Because.. If I fuck you now I won’t be pulling out, can’t get you pregnant til’ I leave my wife, darling.” 

And you thought you had been the one to be moving fast. Your legs jolt and your pussy clenches at the thought of him fucking his cum into you, pushing it deeper and deeper into your womb until you’re full. 

The thought of him fucking a baby into you has you whimpering in a panicked frenzy, you were far too close.

“Fuck fuck fuck, sir.. I’m- I’m right there..”

You moan and are pulling at his hair now, it was no doubt painful, but he couldn’t let you know how much he liked it just yet. At your words, he nods from between your legs and his eyes flutter shut. 

The movements of his tongue in your and his lips on your folds increase in speed, intensity, and passion. He’s swallowing every spurt of arousal you have to offer him, and fucks you with his tongue quicker than you can even process. 

You reach a hand down to play with your clit, but just as quickly as he was fucking you, he just as quickly pulls away with a scornful expression pulling at his eyebrows. 

“W-Why’d you stop…? Please sir..” 

Spencer moves your hand from your clit and plants it back into his hair, making you grip at the root tightly as he lowers himself back onto you, and murmurs in a controlling voice. 

“Hands off, your body belongs to me, sweetheart.”  

And with that, he’s attaching his lips around your aching clit, and begins to suck at it like it’s his job. It makes you throw your head back in a silent moan, the pleasure robbing you of your ability to speak or make noises, and even think.

Your mind goes entirely blank at the feeling of him pulling the sensitive nub between his lips and using that stupid mouth of his to bring you to the edge all too fast. 

With a pornographic moan, you’re drenching his mouth and chin in your release, your thighs spasming in a desperate attempt to balance out the surge of pure unfiltered arousal that was forced out of you.

Spencer’s greedily swallowing every gush your cunt pumps into his awaiting mouth, and he just can’t seem to get enough. He’s moaning uncontrollably against your pussy as he drinks in everything you’ll give him, and if you weren’t absolutely losing your mind at your orgasm and spilling moans of your own, you’d be enjoying his noises a lot more. 

But now, it seems like your body and your release are the only things on both of your minds. You’re shaking, clenching your thighs around his head as your fist pulls so irresistibly at his brown locks. 

You’re the one to push him away, and you can’t help but laugh at the sound of absolute dissatisfaction he produces at being denied any more of your release. And you’d be more than content to let him at it, if you weren’t gasping for air and hopelessly shuddering at the after effects of no doubt the most powerful orgasm you’ve ever experienced. 

He’s suddenly laying by your side and pulling you into a desperate kiss, and you can feel the stickiness of his chin against yours as he eats away at your lips. It makes you pull back to chuckle and attempt to catch your breath again, and after a few beats of silence you look around at where half of your garments are torn and destroyed, and you look at him with a pout. 

"You ripped my dress.. And my underwear.."

Spencer laughs and rests his head back against the sheets, and you can see his chest rising and falling, he was quite breathless himself. 

"I'll buy you an entire new wardrobe, sweetheart, anything you want.." 

[flowerygrdn]

WHAT THE FU- || k. parker

pairing: kai x vampire!reader

warnings: swearing, kissing, fluff, obsessive!kai (sort of)

summary: y/n is on her way to the sheriff's funeral when she gets an alarming call from alaric...

a/n: hello, so i used the deleted kai and jo scene for this because, let's face it, that scene deserved kai's redemption.

---

I could hear my heels clicking on the pavement as I walked towards my car. My head was currently tilted downward towards my purse as i was trying to dig out my keys. This is why I need to clean out my shit more often. Aha! I finally found them. After about five minutes of digging.

Suddenly, my phone starts ringing. Now I have to dig that out of my purse. Damn this bag. Once I retrieved my phone from my bag, I saw the screen lit up with Alraic's name across it.

"I know, I'm running late. Can you tell Caro-" I start, but was immediately cut off by Alaric.

"y/n, I need you to get over to Jo's place right now." His voice is urgent and I immediately stop right in my tracks.

"Why? Alaric, I need to be at the funeral right now."

"y/n, just get over here! You'll see why I called you when you do." I didn't know what to do with that. I didn't want to disappoint Caroline by not being there, but Alaric sounds like he's desperate.

"Okay, but I swear to God if it's something stupid, like you got your hand stuck in the sink, I'm gonna be so pissed." I say as I open my car door.

"y/n!"

"Stop your whining, I'm on my way." I hang up and change the gear to drive. Alaric better have a good excuse.

---

I get to Jo's apartment and open the door. I have no clue why it was unlocked. Do they not care about serial killers? My heels click with every stride I take towards the living room and soon enough I'm at the doorway.

"Alright, what was so impor-" I stop in my tracks when I see a devilish smirk from across the room. Along with the stupid expression, I get a little wave. My eyes shoot over to Jo, who's now standing there, giving me a look of pity.

"What the fu-"

"y/n, save it for a better time." Alaric says, putting his hand up to hush me.

A better time? The best time to swear would be right about now. When Kai Parker is standing there, smirking at me.

"This is why you called me here?! Jo can I please kill your fiancé?!" My eyes begin to darken and veins flash under my eyes. My vamp side comes out when I get pissed. Jo immediately comes over to calm me down.

"Okay, calm down. y/n, no one is killing anybody. We just called you over because we knew that if you were here, my asshole of a twin wouldn't try anything." Jo turns her head over her shoulder and sends Kai a glare.

"She's right." Kai shrugs, still not whipping that stupid grin off his face.

"You! I do not want to hear another word out of your mouth!" I demand. His hands go up in defense.

"Yes, ma'am. " he mutters under his breath.

"Why me though?!" I shout some more.

"Because he's obsessed with you." Alaric responds, rubbing his temples. Kai winks at me. I roll my eyes and try to walk out, but Jo pulls me back.

"y/n, please. He claims he's sick, so can you please come with me to my office so we can check him?" Jo's voice makes me calm down a little bit. I've always kind of seen her and Alaric as close friends, family even. So, if me being here ensures their safety, then so fucking be it.

---

Me, Jo, and Kai walk into her office and Jo leads us to one of the rooms.

"Motus!" Jo says as soon as the door closes. I see Kai fly across the room and hit the wall. She then does that one spell that makes your head feel like it's going to explode. It nice to be on the opposite end of that for once.

"Talked to Dad. Guess who's not sick? Him, Liv, and I'm feeling pretty good right now. Which leads me to believe I'm not gonna die anytime soon. So, what's your game?! Tell me!" She shouts.

"I don't have a game!" Kai shouts back. "God!" He shouts again before doing the same spell to her. I fall down next to Jo, grabbing her arm and trying to think of a way to help her. He stops when I make eye contact with him. I'm pretty sure my vampire face flashed because, he looked a little scared.

"As much as my suffering might bring you two pleasure, this is not the way to handle the situation." He stands up and starts towards us. I help Jo to her feet and dust off my dress.

"Is this all just a ploy for you to get more magic?" Jo's tone is an accusing one, and Kai's face twists into a serious one. A face I've never seen before.

"It's a ploy for us all to stay alive, actually. I'm sorry if that seems selfish!"

"I don't believe you! Because you are a liar. And you are the worst kind of liar because your lies sound so much like the truth, it's impossible for me to tell the difference. " That's something me and Jo agree on. No matter what faces I've seen before, Kai has never shown an honest one.

"You're right, I am a liar, alright? I'm the black sheep. You know, the defective twin that nobody wanted." His voice cracks and this gains my attention. Something about me is that, even without compulsion, I can tell when someone is being sincere. And for once, Kai is.

"It must feel real nice for you to stand her, judging me. Surrounded by all the things you got out of life while I spent eighteen years in isolation as the family reject." His eyes flash over to me before returning to Jo. I never thought I'd be saying this right now, but I kind of feel remorse for Kai.

"Let me tell you, every inch of me wants to kill you for that. Every part!" I slowly start to step in front of Jo, but she pulls me behind her instead.

"But I can't. Because the only way that I can survive is if you help me. And I'd like to live, frankly. Because I didn't get to do a whole lot of that before everyone decided that I wasn't worth it."

There it is again. The feeling of remorse for the man in front of me. His words made me realize that he wasn't born a monster. His coven made him that way. All because he was different. Malachai Parker is evil, but maybe there's a part of him that isn't. A part that can consume the evil and make a whole new person.

"I'll give it to you." Jo replied.

"But under one condition. You take it and get out of my life. I never want you anywhere near me again." She spits out.

"Fine."

"I'm not finished. If you break our promise, I'll kill you." My head snaps towards her.

"I'll take myself and our entire coven down with you. Because I don't want to live another minute, afraid of my own brother." I'd never have thought Jo would do that, but given everything Kai did, she has every right. But something inside me hopes, prays even, she never has to do that.

"You got it?"

"Got it." Kai looks over at me again. My eyes have softened, and I'm now starting to see a whole different person when I look at him. He brushes past us and walks out of the door.

---

After Jo gave Kai her magic, He was out the door in a heartbeat. Not before whispering one last thing in her ear. I quickly say my goodbyes and run after him.

"Kai, wait!" He turns around while standing in the middle of the parking lot. His hands are in his pockets, and his lips part at the sight of me lightly jogging. When I stop a few feet away from him, my words suddenly exit my mind. I have no clue what to say.

"You know, I always thought that the only thing that would make me happy was being coven leader." Kai starts. My eyebrows scrunch. I don't know where he intends to go with this.

"The day I met you in the prison world, I started feeling things. After I merged with Luke, I started feeling even more things. And then it dawned on me." He started taking steps towards me. My feet stay planted in the pavement below me and my stomach twist into knots. I don't know what I'm feeling but, I don't want it to stop.

"Sure, being gemini coven leader is amazing. The power, the title, it's all I've ever wanted. But, then I met you. You are what I've always wanted. Well, maybe not always, but from the day that I met you, you were all I wanted, no, needed." He stops in front of me. My breath gets caught in my throat.

"It's always been you, y/n. And I know you hate me. I know I'm just another monster that you and the gang had to face, but to me, you are my world." What is happening right now? Why are his words having this effect on me? Why do I want him closer? What the actual hell?

"When you're happy, I'm happy. When something hurts you, I want to hunt it down and destroy it. So, hate me. Help your friends plot my death. But just know..." His hand comes up to cup my cheek. I flinch, but don't take his hand away. For some weird reason, I like the way his skin feels against mine.

"I'll love you even if I'm in hell." Holy shit.

Kai Parker loves me? How? Why? What the fuck?! Wait...no there's no way...do I love him too? All I've ever felt for him was disgust, but maybe that was just a cover-up. Because what I'm feeling right now didn't just happen within the span of a few hours. I guess it's always been there, I just didn't see it before.

He leans down and kisses my forehead then turns around. He begins to walk away, but I don't want him to. I can't let him.

"Kai!" He stops and turns around again.

I don't think. My body is moving before my mind can process it. My legs are taking long strides, and soon, my arms are thrown around his shoulders, and I'm pulling his head down to mine. Our lips meet in the middle, and his hands quickly find my waist.

Passion. Sparks flying everywhere. That's what I feel when I'm kissing Kai Parker. His hands are moving up and down my back and mine are racking through his hair. We only pull away when we're about to run out of oxygen. We keep our heads rested on each other's and try to steady our breaths.

"I love you, Kai." I feel his arms tighten around my waist. He let's out a breath that sounded like he had been holding in.

"I love you to hell and back, y/n." He says before capturing my lips in another passionate kiss.

---

[bloodblotz]

Task From Heaven

Hazbin Hotel x Angel!Reader

Post Hazbin Hotel Season 1

The reader is an angel from heaven tasked by the Heavenly Courtroom to aid the Hazbin Hotel and its goal on rehabilitating Sinners.

Part 1

The order given was simple in nature but couldn’t be any less difficult: aid Princess Charlie Morningstar in her quest to redeem Sinners so they may see the golden gates of Heaven.

Definitely simple of a goal but complicated in nature. There was a reason it had never been accomplished or attempted before, for the sheer controversy of trying to redeem a person who had already made their choices were hard to sway.

Sir Pentious had given Heaven much to think about and as such the buzz that a Sinner had somehow become a Winner was unheard of.

For God to have such forgiveness for a sinful man, who were angels not to follow in their Father? And as such, you were sent down to the Hazbin Hotel to aid the Princess in her endeavours to save Sinners from their fiery fates.

The air in Hell was heavy with smoke and brimstone, making your nose wrinkle in the slightest. Back in Heaven the air was sleek and clear, as fresh as a meadow far from any sort of city. It was just one of the many things that you would have to get used to.

The hotel came to view, a grand thing it was, with its name in tall and bright letters that flashed with pride.

Landing gracefully onto the pavement, you quietly tucked your wings away as to not be seen by the average Sinner. Although your halo remained stubbornly atop your head.

Entering the hotel, it was just as large as it was on the outside. The ceilings were tall enough as to not induce claustrophobia.

“Hello! Welcome to the—” a young woman’s cheerful voice welcomed you as you make your way to the foyer. It stopped abruptly as you make your way closer to the stairs. Dressed in a bright red suit with long blonde hair tied in a long braid was the Princess of Hell: Charlie Morningstar. She stood shocked at the sight of you— well, more so your halo than just the appearance of you.

You give a cordial smile as you spread out your wings in a way that you know was probably sinful pride in your appearance. Your wings stretched to showcase pure plumes of white, stark against the harsh reds of Hell.

“Greetings to the Princess of Hell,” you start, voice soft as to adhere to image of angelic. “I am Y/N, have no fear as I have come to aid Sinners with redemption on behalf of Heaven.”

The Princess guffaws for a long second, a thousand emotions that were too quick to read flickering across her face. Her companions were not so hard to read as wariness spread across their faces. One in particular, a young woman with long hair and an interesting ‘x’ atop one of her eyes. Similar to an exorcist, you idly note.

The long haired woman thrust a spear in your face, an angelic spear you notice. Her mouth is twisted into a snarl as she holds an unwavering spear to your throat.

“What business does Heaven want now? Extermination is over.”

You smile, bringing a finger to the point and pushing it down slightly. “Have no fear, I have no intention in hurting any Sinner of the sort.” The woman’s face is stone, making it clear that she has yet to believe you. “I was sent by Heaven to aid in redeeming Sinners.”

The woman scoffs but is quickly calmed by a gentle hand to her shoulder. The Princess looks at you. Her face is not unkind but isn’t entirely friendly. Her face swims with wariness.

“I thought Heaven didn’t believe in the redemption of Sinners.” Despite her wariness, her eyes shines with hope. “What changed?”

Your disbelief makes it way forward. Don’t they know? They had to know that one of their very own residents made it to Heaven, and yet their wary faces tells you otherwise.

“One of your own occupants have been redeemed.” You start, projecting an image of the serpent into her palm. His heavenly image is revealed to the Princess whose eyes shine with emotion. “This changes everything, don’t you think? Because of this, Heaven is willing to help in your crusade.”

Something in your heart twists at the unshed tears in the Princess’ eyes.

You let the Princess take the image of Sir Pentious, watching as she cradles it like was something precious. The rest of her companions stare down at the ball with a range of disbelief and relief.

You were ready to meet an incarnation of evil, a product of Hell and Lucifer. In the end, Hell’s daughter is nothing but a kind girl.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.

Parts:

1 2 3

[ilikepjo24]

OMG FINALLY someone talks about Octavian If u don't mind me inputting this, but it's mentioned in The Hidden Oracle by Apollo that Octavian was duped by Gaea,, plus there's super strong parallels between Nero/Nero's Adopted Demigod Children and Octavian (that nobody addresses) and if that aligns with the absolute W takes you've been chugging out I think I won't tear my hair out over him tonight

Octavian was, in my opinion, the funniest dude character in Heroes of Olympus. He sounded like a demonic toddler mixed with your middle school weird nerd 🤣 This fandom should definitely take advantage of that comedic potential. Plus, he has no backstory, which gives us endless creative freedom. Why wouldn't I talk about him?

And if you scroll a bit on my blog you'll see that picking up stray aggressive, mean characters and defending them like my life depends on it is sort of my thing, so it was only a matter of time until Octavian caught my eye.

Unfortunately, I have not read the Trials of Apollo yet. I got the first book of that series during the winter holidays, and I haven't started it yet 😅 but I've seen a couple of spoilers, so I'd really want Octavian to have survived Heroes of Olympus and be in the Trials of Apollo. One of the reasons being that I didn't want him to die at all, but other than that, Apollo getting kicked out of Olympus and living amongst mortals and needing their help? Octavian would eat that up, I'm telling you.

He'd follow Apollo on his journeys and that would give him sooo much time for character development. Plus, being essentially "kicked out" of Camp Jupiter to be send to a quest with a god you user to be obsessed with but then sort of manipulated you could be written as a punishment due to Octavia's actions and could help trigger a redemption arc.

And all the prophets having issues with their powers because Apollo is not amongst the gods anymore? As an augur, that would affect Octavian as well. He may have had flashes of the future or all that other overwhelming suffering stuff we see other prophets have, and Lester would help him with that, while they also help other prophets.

Octavian surviving the Heroes of Olympus and being in the Trials of Apollo would be ground for character development, bonding dynamics, a backstory, a redemption arc, a healing arc, maybe a power up? 👀👀 There were SO many opportunities and it's a waste that Riordan threw that away.

[owlpellet]

I miss old skool Death Knight rp so much. I know there are classic servers and people who are still dedicated but I’m so checked out of WoW now. I came back to tumblr recently and all my old WoW mutuals seem to have had the exact same experience since 2018~2019 of just completely checking out of the game. Most of us seem to have quit even before the big Blizzard scandals.

But idk, I just get so nostalgic for Acherus. I don’t think I’ll ever get over Death Knights 💀 I didn’t play on US servers but I always wished (I could have joined you all!)

It really was a flash-in-the-pan type of RP that can never truly be revisited, and I miss it terribly sometimes. With the scourge plotline basically concluded not once but twice-over for good measure, the whole premise of the class loses its identity and casts them adrift and without purpose-- something for which they were always sort of destined, but with Shadowlands even things like the crises of faith and redemption and what happens when they finally let go and properly join the dead are negated. The uncertainty and fear of it all is what made them so interesting!

When I left the game, it felt like 90% of the RP happening was very "domestic"-- family dynamics, shipping, people having bake sales, exploration/travel, picnics, parties. It can be occasionally fun to see how a living weapon tries to fit into that sort of dynamic, but I personally found it quickly tiresome and unfulfilling as the moral quandaries of existing at all fell to the wayside. It's very hard to continue to RP someone grappling with their identity when all the other RPers are basically going "oh yeah i just drink a potion to stop the endless hunger so i can run my fashion business :)", and rather than mire in my lore snobbery I just... left.

[creepling]

hi! happy 1k <3 may i request a piece with johnny x single mom reader + the prompt “will you stay?” “of course, i’m not planning on leaving anytime soon.”? i thought it’d be interesting if reader was formerly captured by the sawyer family, while she was on vacation with friends, but johnny relented and decided to let her go because of how badly she begged for her life & at the time her baby was only 2 months old, which she told him. so johnny being johnny as well, he was able to track her down a month later — at first just to check up on her, but he decided he wanted to help her raise her kid & kind of switch up his life since the baby’s father is (willingly) out of the picture. also reader is a young mom (early 20s), around the same age that johnny is, he’s just a lil older. they’re still warming up to each other/developing their relationship but to the reader’s surprise, johnny’s really good with kids & has done a lot to help reader out to give her a break? AAAA THIS IS A LOT OF INFO IM SORRY but i hope it makes sense & that you have fun with making something out of this <333

AAAA ok no but i love this, idk it makes sense for the sawyers to spare a victim if they have a kid?? the whole "family" motto would get to them lol. i love all your info but i apologise if i've missed out on anything. i've made this drabble more like a time passing sort of thing so i could include everything.

tags: angst. single-mum!reader. reformed!johnny. kid is gn (use of they/it). descriptions of trauma. johnny feels a lot of guilt. mild blood ment.

“Drop the god-damn knife, Johnny. She’s got a kid for crying out loud!” Drayton barked.

Johnny’s adrenaline shot through his body, tensing his muscles and trembling his hands. “Is that true?” He growled, eyes shot out at your petrified stare.

You pulled a Polaroid picture out of your pocket, your bloody hands staining the corners. You beheld it to Johnny, trying to steady your shakes. Johnny gazed at the picture, the newborn clouded in white, its eyes closed in a peaceful sleep.

“My baby . . . My baby. I need to go home to my baby,” You sob, begging on your knees, hysterics maddening all parts of your manner.

Johnny’s knife dropped to the floor, and he thought about every bad thing he had done. There was no coming back from this.

It had been a month of silence. A month of sleepless nights and looking over your shoulder. Breastfeeding became agonising. Your baby’s cries sent you into uncontrollable alertness. Your hair was brittle and your skin shallow, the stress shivering through your body like a ghost entering your soul.

The letters came around that time. Off-white envelopes with a few dollars in cash. All that was left was a note,

For the Baby, I’m sorry.

Meeting him again after the kidnapping was an anxiety-driven step, bouncing your baby on your lap as you waited in the diner booth. You convinced yourself you lost your mind, wanting to rekindle with your kidnapper. But you hadn’t heard from anyone since the birth; the baby daddy became non-existent. Your family refuse to return your calls. The only person willing to help you was Johnny.

He was silent across from you for a while. The only words he uttered were to order from the menu. He shovelled down an apple pie while you bottle-fed your child, lulling them to their afternoon nap.

“Why are you helping me?” You remember asking. Visioning Johnny’s deep gaze, his subtle glances at your first-born, a tinge of sadness glazing his eyes.

He said he owed you too much. Your baby deserved to grow up with a male figure in its life, and you deserved someone to protect you. The sight of your youthful features withering away from stress, the permanent damage he inflicted on you, ached your eyes and down-turned your smile. It kept him up at night thinking about you, struggling with the fussing cries and flashes of his brute force. He wanted to step up. He was ready for redemption.

He drove you back home, watching over his new companions with careful eyes. His arm outstretched as he turned the wheel, hoping not to disturb the baby’s slumber. The rascal woke up eventually, full of energy the minute you invited him inside. “Would you like to hold them?” You asked, unable to ignore his loving stares.

He felt like crying, holding something so precious. Knowing he nearly orphaned this child, ridding it of a beautiful mother. He swore to protect the kid, holding its gentle head and leaning it into his chest. His gentleness surprised you, the warmth filling your smile for the first time in months.

Johnny never left the house. He hadn’t seen his family in months and had no plans on returning. Your little one was proliferating, and Johnny got used to using his strength to pry the ankle biter from dangerous objects. He ditched the knives and retired into swinging the kid until they were out of breath from laughter. He stepped up, got a job, and brought money in to keep you secure.

He was a different man, and he changed you as a mother. He repented for his sins. He begged for forgiveness with every stare your way, with every gentle touch. You finally forgave him, praying that his presence is destined to be everlasting.

“Will you stay?” He held you in his arms as you choked up, clinging to his body. 

“I’m not plannin’ on leavin’ anytime soon.” Johnny kissed the top of your head, his arms around you. Your loving touch soothing the aching heart he’s adorned for decades.

[ao3feed-irondadspiderson]

Denial Is a Cruel Mistress

https://archiveofourown.org/works/51889249 by sabertoothhousecat “Hey Spider-Man!” Flash yelled down the hall at Peter. “Do a flip!” Peter looked at Ned who looked at MJ who raised an eyebrow. They seemed to reach some sort of agreement because Peter turned, shouted, “Okay!” back down the hallway and executed a perfect back flip. Literally no one noticed. Not a single person looked up from their phones or their stupid conversations or whatever they had going on. Flash was going to cry.  Or: Peter stops hiding his identity so much at school (for convenience, he swears). Flash is the only one who notices, and to his increasing frustration, no one believes him. Or: Flash is the Candace to Peter, Ned, and MJ’s Phineas and Ferb Words: 9292, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English Fandoms: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: Gen Characters: Peter Parker, Michelle Jones (Marvel), Ned Leeds, Flash Thompson, Academic Decathlon Team Members (Spider-Man: Homecoming), Tony Stark Relationships: Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Flash Thompson, Peter Parker & Tony Stark Additional Tags: Crack, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Flash Thompson Being A Jerk, Good Friend Michelle Jones (Marvel), Michelle Jones is a Little Shit (Marvel), Good Friend Ned Leeds, Pranks and Practical Jokes, Identity Reveal, Spider-Man Identity Reveal, Flash Thompson Redemption, but only like the tiniest bit, and it's after much suffering believe me, Tony Stark Has A Heart read it on AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/51889249

[mushrubes]

Another?

Masterlist | Red dead redemption masterlist |

Requested : no

Based on character ai { Hosea Matthews by @/addynot }

Pairing : father! Hosea Matthews x child! reader, John Marston x matthews! reader

Pronouns : you/yours

Type : platonic / familial + fluff

Word count : 1.4k

Warnings : Swear words, familial, best friends in love, slightly ooc <3

Have a great day !! <3

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You stood still as Hosea cleaned the blood from your nose. He looked genuinely angry this time. You had a habit of getting into fights at school, but after this last one — your father seemed to be at his wit’s end. “I can’t believe you. I’ve tried so hard to get you an education and you go off and get into trouble.” He mumbled to himself, his hands gentle as he cleaned off your bruised face. He was extremely disappointed in you. "Pa, I'm sorry! It was deserved!" You defended, rolling your eyes. “I doubt that,” he argued. “You’ve told me before that every time you get into these things it’s ‘deserved’.” Hosea sighed. “Tell me. What happened this time?” he questioned. "O'driscolls. Two of them. Cornered me and they punched John after calling you and Uncle Dutch murderers so threw a punch at them and then the three of us started fighting." You explained.

Hosea rolls his eyes. “You know, you really shouldn’t go around throwing punches every time someone insults the gang.” He sighs again. “If I’m being honest… I’m almost scared to ask what happened to the O’Driscolls. How’s John?” he asked, the disappointment and concern evident. "They were threatening to get their guns out, and me punching them is too far? yeah, bullshit." You mumbled under your breath. "I think John's okay. I got him to go to Miss Grimshaw when we got back - he'll most likely have a black eye tomorrow." You sighed. “You don’t have to curse, kid. I understand the situation but what you failed to remember is that you’re only 16. You can’t go around throwing punches just because someone insults you.” Hosea sighs. “And as much as I don’t really like the O’Driscolls, I don’t think you should’ve punched them. That’s a good way to get yourself killed.” he shook his head.

Hosea sighs — a look of sadness and disappointment flashes through his face. “I know, love… I know. But, that doesn’t change anything; It’s still very dangerous to try and start fights with them. One day, you might end up picking the wrong fight…” He lets out another deep sigh. “You’re a smart kid. I just don’t want you to… do something stupid.” his voice softened, eyes full of love and concern for you, only wanting the best. "Whatever." you rolled your eyes, scoffing at him. “I’m serious, love. I don’t need to lose you the same way I lost your mother. I’m all you got right now, and it’s tough parenting a child in the gang. If anything happens to you, I’ll never forgive myself.” Hosea paused, thinking. “Can I trust that you won’t get into another fight? Just while you’re at school?” he pleaded, wanting some sort of confirmation. "Yeah, sure." You huffed, getting up.

Hosea breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, sweetheart. Just… please try to stay out of trouble. You’re the only child I’ll ever have, and I don’t want you to go the same way your mother did.” He looks at you, his face softening. “Just… just give me a hug, would you?” Your face softened and you gave in, hugging him tightly. You didn't even notice your tears staining his shirt. Hosea hugs you back tightly, holding his emotions back as tears begin to fall down his cheeks. “You’re… you’re the closest thing I’ll ever get to seeing your mother again.” He whispers quietly. “Don’t do that to me again, okay?” He holds you close, not wanting to let go. “I love you darling.” he caressed your head gently. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry, Pa. I love you too." You whispered, wiping your tears. “I know, sweetheart. Just… just don’t do something like that again, okay?” Hosea holds you close for what feels like forever, not wanting to let go. Eventually — and reluctantly — he does. “Now go on, get washed up and get to bed. It’s late.” he said.

"Okay. Goodnight, Pa. I love you." you responded, kissing his cheek gently. “Love you too, sweetheart. Goodnight.” With that, Hosea shuts the door behind you — leaving you alone to get cleaned up and head to bed. You made your way to the bathroom, brushing your teeth and getting changed. You get changed into something comfortable, ready to go to bed. As you start brushing your teeth, you begin to remember everything that happened earlier as well as the promise you made to Hosea — not to get into any more fights. This was probably one of the last times he was ever going to be easy on you, you thought to yourself. He genuinely didn’t want you to get hurt. You smiled softly when you walked back into your shared bedroom, seeing John sitting on his bed "Hey loser." you called lovingly, making him look up in your direction. “Shut up, runt.” John replied back lovingly with a smile on his face.

“How did your talk with father go?” John had a cut on his eye, it was swollen and red — but it wasn’t too bad. He looked completely exhausted. "Usual lecturing. How's your face doing?" you asked, gently cupping his cheek, frowning at the cut. “Same as always, numb to the pain,” John chuckled, leaning in to give you a kiss on your cheek. This was always your relationship with John. You teased and bickered a lot, but you both cared for each other deeply. He sighs. “I just… can’t believe you punched those bastards. What if they did get their guns out?” he pondered, concern evident in his voice and on his face. "Was worth it. They punched you and insulted my dad and Dutch." You shrugged, not even hesitating, meaning every single word. “Still not worth it.” John argued — but you could tell he wasn’t being serious, he was just worried about you. “Hosea was worried you were gonna get yourself killed. He was on the verge of tears talking to you.” John pauses for a second to think.

“Just… try not to do this again… okay, love?” he asked. "They're lucky I didn't kill them for hurting you." You commented, sitting next to him on his bed. “I know… but they weren’t worth the effort,” John chuckled weakly. “Now, come here.” He motioned for you to cuddle up with him on his bed. “I’m too tired to keep arguing.” he chuckled. You smiled softly, cuddling up to him, head on his chest. John’s body was warm. It always felt safe and cosy whenever you cuddled up to him like this — his large frame was comfortable to rest against. He wraps his arm around you, holding you close as he kisses your forehead. He was so big and handsome, and it made you feel safe in his arms. "Hey John?" you called quietly, turning the light out so it was dark. “Yeah, love?” He looked down at you. You could see his eyelids were slightly heavy — he was half asleep. “What’s up?” He asked softly. "Y'know I'd do anything for you, right?" you whispered, nuzzling into him.

John smiles at you, feeling slightly amused by your words. “I have no doubt,” he chuckled. “What’s your point?” He pulled you closer to him, feeling completely comfortable with you by his side. "I love you. I know we're teenagers but…" You trailed off, a lovesick smile on your face. John looks at you, his dark eyes filled with love for you. “I love you too, darlin',” he whispers back — his soft voice echoing softly through the room. “I know we’re just teenagers… but I can’t imagine living the rest of my life without you in it.” He pulls you even closer to him, his hand brushing through your hair. “We’re gonna get through this… okay? I promise.” he assured, pressing kisses to your forehead and cheeks. "me and you forever?" you questioned, intertwining your hands. “Me and you forever, my love. No matter what that means or where that takes us.” His words were sweet, he meant every one of them. John had done so much for you, he was so much more than your best friend — he was the person who you trusted and loved more than anyone in this world. He was, truly, your soulmate.

Maybe everything was going to be okay after all.

[nights-at-crystarium]

January 9 is Vivi’s birthday \;w;/ The date’s cheeky, it’s when I reached ShB on him ingame. A year ago. JUST A YEAR. No other oc of mine had such an intense development process. I wanted to try writing a disaster, and, well....

Lemme have today as an excuse to ramble about his influences. Of course I didn’t merely lump these together, I kept realizing the likeness as time went on.

The concentration of unhinged blondies and literal idols is past the critical level, take cover, it’s gonna blow.

Spoiler warning for everything.

Anarchy Panty

Because his full name’s Vivien Fucksalot Rell x’D A good number of their tropes match perfectly.

This speech could as well be copypasted into his final battle with Emet:

Panty: You're right, I'm just a little bitch and I'm proud of it. But guess what, douchebag? That's not the point. News flash, I don't need special fucking powers to beat the shit out of you. You know why? Because I'm a bitch who doesn't give a fuck. You and your half-dead face can preach about hymens and demons and other weird words that supposedly mean shit, but that doesn't change the fact that if any of you fuckers get in my way, I'm gonna kick some twisted-ass ass. You hear me dick? I'm a hot bitch angel named Panty. And no matter what anyone says, I DO WHAT I FUCKING WANT!

Princess Ai

An edgy fashion icon that I'm still in love with. Brainstorming the visual styles for Vivi, I simply decided to indulge as hard as I can.

Howl

Howl gets his redemption arc, Vivi, uh.... Surprise, the entire ShB part of Fragments is his redemption arc of sorts. But he exists outside ShB as well. He’s not meant to be a goody two shoes. But hey, his drama queen moments are entertaining to watch.

Raha has a lot of Howl in his character too. With Vivi, he’s basically this, except he doesn’t swallow him.. Okay he does but in a different way *kicked*

Arataka Reigen

Because I’m physically incapable of writing a classic hero.

Vivi has a complicated relationship with his career and a pragmatic approach to most things in life. He also prefers words to violence, will fight only if that fails.

When confidence and persuasion carry so hard you don’t really need anything else. Vivi firmly believes in everything he says and does. He doesn’t derive any fucked up joy from being right, but he knows as a fact that he IS right.

Sakuma Ryuichi

Duality my beloved \o/ And dorkiness. Other than that, Ryuichi doesn’t have as much influence on his character, but the visuals?

I mean I literally use this shirt and necklace as an easter egg/homage. Gravitation triggered my queer awakening in the faraway 2006, might as well give it the acknowledgement it deserves.

And, lastly, the he.

What else do you expect from a character tailored for a ship \o/

Short. Sassy. Dorky. Gremlin. All of their direct likeness stems from ARR, while the more subtle parallels and extreme opposite values form later.

If Raha’s eccentric, Vivi takes that just a tad bit further, simply because he’s always been allowed to.

What Raha keeps repressed, buried deep down, Vivi embraces in full. He’s an unruly, effervescent spark of life, he’s meant to be Raha’s “manic pixie dream boy” according to tvtropes, to slowly lure him out of his shell and teach him confidence, the joy of living, and find a way to stop him from killing himself over and over again.

Words of praise and affirmation have no effect on them. Both are competent in some field, but never brag about it. While Raha has a severe imposter syndrome, Vivi knows he’s cool as a fact, which still doesn't mean he loves or values himself as he should. He just acknowledges and uses his status for his own benefit as openly as the world keeps using himself.

Destiny (affectionate) and destiny (derogatory).

Raha’s The Adult (tm) Vivi needs to stay somewhat stable. This’s the reason they don’t quite get along in ARR yet, Raha must go through that century of suffering that, despite all common sense, refines him into something delightful, Vivi must go through HW-SB to realize his priorities in life and frankly get fucked up enough to form a perfect chemistry with Exarch.

Raha has a moral compass that he may adjust at will, Vivi has none at all. How much more questionable would they be if they weren’t cute and charismatic :’D

They’re feisty and competitive towards each other, Raha especially so. Vivi has a red cloth effect on him. Forever wrestling for that imaginary control (yep, in bed too). On the emotional side, it’s forever “you matter, I don’t”. They’re mirrors of each other, reflecting some parts as they are, twisting others in most peculiar ways.

Vivi literally wouldn’t exist without Raha, both ic and ooc. So I daresay Raha has the most influence on his character, at the same time he’s his own guy enough to stay interesting. I’m so proud of him. I’m holding him by the scruff and helplessly shaking him in the air.

[space-mermaid-writing]

The witchling and the god [Loki x Witch!Reader] Chapter 1

Summary: The Avengers were looking for someone to help Loki fit in with the team. To become socially acceptable, so to speak. He had been given the choice of sitting in a cell in Asgard or serving some sort of community service probation on Midgard. The Avengers and Shield both felt that as long as Loki was on Earth, he should be under supervision.

This is now your job. Why? Because you’re a witch. You’re not sure why this qualifies you, but here you are, giving it a shot. What could possibly go wrong?

Tags: Witch!Reader, Magic, Witches, slow burn, everybody lives in the tower, character development, Loki‘s redemption, Stephen Strange is a friend, Loki and Stephen are frenemies, Tony Stark is a good bro, kids love Loki, Tony has stupid nicknames for everybody, eventual smut

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Read it on AO3 | Next Chapter

Chapter's Note: Well, here it is! A brand new Loki x Reader series. It's finished on paper and will be updated regularly. New chapters every Saturday. As always: thanks to my lovely beta @zaria-04

Chapter 1: You have my attention

You flash your brand new work badge at the SHIELD agents that greet you after you step out of the elevator. They also take a look in your bag, but find nothing they don’t like and let you pass.

The next door leads you into one of the large suites of the Avenger Tower. It’s an open room concept: a luxury living room with a kitchen, a dining area and a bar. There, one of the walls is one giant window with a magnificent view over the city.

There are several doors into the private rooms. The two Asgardian princes live in the suite, but you see neither of them. You take a quick glance at your watch, and see that you are on time.

"Hello?" you call out questioningly to the room as you walk through it. There's no answer.

You place a bag from a bakery on the coffee table. Everyone likes pastries, right? And it's still early enough that it could count as breakfast.

Then you sit down on the couch and wait. For this occasion you've chosen a smart casual outfit with pants and a beautiful blouse. Not quite the style you normally prefer, but it fits the job and the city.

You somewhat wonder what you are doing here.

A few days ago, Stephen Strange contacted you with a request for a job. They were looking for someone to help Loki fit in with the team. To become socially acceptable, so to speak.

He had been given the choice of sitting in a cell in Asgard or serving some sort of community service probation on Midgard. Probably neither option had appealed him much, but as far as Thor had let slip, ‘unworthy people were still more bearable than the stern presence of father’ – Loki’s words

In any case, the Avengers and Shield both felt that as long as Loki was on Earth, he should be under supervision.

Strange asked you because they were looking for someone from outside, preferably someone with skills. The Sorcerer Supreme himself doesn't have the time or inclination to deal with this. But he recommended you because he seems to think you're quite good at dealing with people.

This elicited an amused snort from you, because you've spent the last decade in a small cottage in a remote part of Europe, meeting people only when work requires it.

But apparently the Avengers were desperate enough that they invited you in for an interview anyway. You got a plane ticket emailed to you, which merely elicits another laugh from you.

On the day of the interview, the door to Tony Stark's office suddenly lit up as you stepped through.

"I take it you're the witch Doctor Wizard told us about?" He greeted you with raised eyebrows.

"And you are the flying tin man," you replied just to tease him.

He took an instant liking to you and that was a good foundation for this job interview. He explained to you the details of what this was all about.

"We need someone who tries to understand him, if that is even possible. Some kind of responsible contact person. Preferably someone who won't be easily intimidated by him."

"A babysitter," you summarized.

"Babysitter, friend, chaperon. Call it what you will, Sabrina. So far, Loki has been too unpredictable and therefore a threat. Thor can't be by his side 24/7. Besides, the relationship between the two isn't always the best either. If you're successful, we'll be all eternally grateful. And, of course, there's hard cash money in for you."

"I don't know if I can make a difference," you admitted, "You can't change people just like that."

He didn't seem to hold it against you and merely shrugged.

"It's worth a shot. I won't hold it against you if it doesn't work. We're just running out of options here."

That did make you a little curious.

"What else did you try?" you asked.

"A lot. So… yeah. It can only get better."

He offered you a drink, but you declined. You took the job, because you were curious. It was not everyday you get the chance to meet Norse gods.

If they would show up, that is.

You wait an hour before you get up and leave. You leave the paper bag, otherwise there is no evidence of your visit. As agreed, as soon as you're back in the elevator, you call Stark to give him a report.

"You lasted longer than I thought, Sabrina," he greets you, right after the first ring, as if he had waited for your call.

"That would probably be more impressive if Loki had actually shown up," you reply, giving him a brief summary of your less than eventful meeting.

"According to Jarvis, Loki hasn't left the floor," Tony notes after a brief pause. "It's a game for him. Everything is."

"Well, I've got time. And honestly, I'm not complaining when I get paid for just sitting there," you say with a shrug.

"That's the spirit. See you tomorrow, Sabrina." You guess Tony really likes giving nicknames.

You leave the elevator and walk through the corridors. Tony has given you the key card to a room where you can make yourself at home. Not that you plan on staying here outside of your job hours, but it's nice to have a retreat where you can be undisturbed. Plus, you can set up a permanent portal to your home there. It's easier and faster than having to open a new one every time.

The door to your room is in the middle of the hallway and you can recognize it only by its number, because they look all the same. You hold the key card in front of the scanner and with a short ‘beep’ the lock opens.

You step inside. The room looks like a spacious hotel room. In the front there is a small sitting area with several armchairs. A work desk is facing the wall. Further back is a queen sized bed and on the wall opposite is a dresser with a TV. Everything is in neutral colors.

You see two more doors. One leads to a modern, bright bathroom, while the other to a walk-in closet. You choose the latter to set up your portal. You take chalk out of your bag and draw runes on the door frame, muttering words softly. It's a complicated pattern, but over the years you've memorized it. You always know your way back home.

After you have made the last line and said the last word, the chalk lights up briefly and burns into the frame. You touch a specific rune and open the door. On the other side you see the kitchen in your cottage.

Satisfied with your work, you step home.

~~

The next morning you walk at the same time into the suite of the Asgardian princes. And you are greeted by the same picture as the day before: a seemingly empty apartment.

"Hello?" you call out questioningly, announcing your arrival. Even if you are sure that you haven’t gone unnoticed.

Again, you get no answer.

On the coffee table is still the baker's bag you picked up yesterday and when you look inside, you see that the contents are untouched. As if no one had been here in the meantime.

"It’s very nice of Stark to send me a new pet toy," you suddenly hear a deep voice. It sounds like a dark velvet cloak wrapping around your shoulders. Not comfortable and relaxing, but heavy. As if it wanted to capture you and never let go.

The voice sounds so close behind you that you whirl around in surprise, your hands clenched into fists.

In front of you stands Loki, grinning amused at you. This is exactly the kind of reaction he wanted to evoke. He wears Asgardian clothes: dark trousers that seem to be made of leather or a similar material and a wraparound dark green tunic , decorated at the edges with fine golden lines. Everything fits perfectly, as if it were tailor-made for him.

You draw your brows together and your expression turns cool. You hate being startled like this.

"I'm not a toy," you clarify. Thankfully, your words sound more confident than you feel. Your heart is still pounding up to your throat, but you try to calm it down with a deep breath.

"My name is-…"

"I don't care," Loki interrupts you, seeming almost bored. "You won't be here for long anyway."

What a nice greeting.

Loki's eyes scrutinize you closely, wandering down your body and back up again. Outwardly, he can't see any trace of fear on you. Just maybe a hint of discomfort because he's standing in your personal space.

"You're different. What are you? Another PR agent? A SHIELD agent? A psychiatrist?"

His voice turns to liquid oil running down the back of your neck. It's like he's trying to make you slip so you'll make a mistake. He takes another step toward you, but you don’t retreat. Instead you look up at him, almost defiantly.

Your fingers next to your body are tense, ready to defend or even attack should he venture any further. But you don't intend to let him upset you so easily.

"Neither," you reply shortly, breaking eye contact now to circle the coffee table. You sit down at the same spot as yesterday and invite Loki with a gesture to sit down as well.

He ignores this invitation. "What are you then?” he demands to know instead.

"Does it matter?" You cross your legs and tilt your head. "I thought I wouldn’t be here for long anyway."

Loki eyes you again, but this time with more interest. You imagine to see the corners of his mouth twitching upward minimally as he finally sits down on the couch.

"You have my attention."

That's a start. The beginning of a normal conversation. You just have to play your cards right. You pull out a small notebook and a pen from your bag.

"Do you prefer to be called Mr. Odinson or Mr. Laufeyson?" you ask the Asgardian.

Immediately, his face darkens. "I despite both," he hisses.

You don’t press into details. "So just Loki?"

"'My Prince' or 'Your Highness' will do."

He grins slyly, showing his white teeth. It's like the smile of a snake about to lunge forward and bite. His whole attitude is like someone who is used to making everyone jump at his every command. You make a little note in your book.

Spoiled brat.

"I understand that you are Asgardian Royalty but I don't care about titles or ranks. How about Mr. Loki?"

It annoys him that you don't react to him. "How would you like it if I called you ‘my little pet’?"

"I wouldn't like that."

"If you say so, pet."

This is going to be a long day.

"I think it's quite fitting,” Loki smirks.

You look at your watch. "Well, it was certainly nice to meet you, but I'm afraid I have to go."

You actually don't but you have enough of Loki for one day. If anything his presence is draining. You heard what he can be capable of and even though you're not afraid, you're still on guard. After all, you've been walking this earth for some decades and you're not reckless.

You rise and Loki nods to yesterday's bakery bag, still untouched on the table. "Your offerings have not found favor with this god. Take them with you. I don't want them. Make an effort next time."

You are exceptionally calm as you turn around to him one last time. "I will make as much of an effort as this god deserves."

The door closes before you can hear his answer.

So that was the famous, infamous God of mischief. You don't wonder why so many people seem to have quit this job after only a few days. He is intense. But at least he showed up today and you were able to talk to him. You count that as a success.

You send a short report to Tony as you take the elevator up. There is an area that has been described to you as a general location in the tower. Curious about it, you head there.

It's on the upper floors and turns out to be a large lounge with access to an outdoor area. There are several couches, a large bar and a stunning view of the city.

Through an open passageway, you see a kitchen area. There, you look through the cabinets for a bowl to put the pastries from the bag. Just because Loki doesn't want them, it’s no reason to throw them away. You take one for yourself and put the rest at the bar for everyone.

~~

Your cottage is located in the middle of nowhere, a good distance away from the nearest village. There are a few small trees around it and it is bordered by berry hedges. In the back you have several herb beds, which you always take care of diligently.

The house itself is not very big, but it is enough for you. The main room is a large kitchen, where you spend most of your time. Even now you are standing there. Around you float several bowls and a whisk that moves by itself, stirring a batter.

You open one of the many cabinets at the wall and search the compartments for a particular jar. Most of it is sorted alphabetically, because otherwise you would lose track with all the ingredients and supplies you store here.

"Caterpillars, caramel chicken beaks… ah, cocoa."

You pull out a jar of brown powder and add a few spoonfuls to the bowl with the spinning whisk.

Cooking and brewing potions are often not so different. You just have to be careful which pot you use for what.

Today you're baking, because spurred on by Loki's words, you want to bring him something he'll like. Normally, such challenges don't interest you, but in this case it's different. Last time you brought him something from a baker. This time he will get something from your own kitchen. And you'll be damned if he doesn't like it.

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

Tag List: @lokisgoodgirl @lokixryss @itsybitchylittlewitchy @yokshi-unbeliebubble @fictional-hooman @elennair @all-envy-suyu

Tell me if I forgot you. Tumblr messages can be chaotic. Comment or dm me if you wanna be added.

[stusbunker]

Tattered: The Prodigal’s Redemption

A SPN ABO Fan-fiction Series

Featuring: Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Dean x Omega!Reader, Alpha!Sam x Omega!Reader x Alpha!Dean

Word Count: ~4575

Warnings, etc: Hospitals, at risk pregnancy, hormonal imbalances, amnesia, claiming, little bit of blood, Sam and Dean tag team smut, emotional sex.

Series Masterlist

Special shout out to @lastactiontricia​ for putting up this series the entire time.

Sam

I’ve never been more grateful to be heading back to Bobby’s. Dean’s been an ass this entire case—- it wasn’t even a case, just infiltration and trying to secure a way in to end Dick Roman. But it took longer than we had hoped.

Though the IT girl, Charlie, seems to think it’s all doable. So, we’ve got that now that Garth has some sort of ancient spell tablet that is giving us some sort of direction. Thanks to a new prophet named Kevin. Poor kid.

The stress of being away from our Omega is making us both snippy, but Dean must be close to rut or something because I want absolutely nothing to do with him. His scent even seems off, which doesn’t make sense, I’ve been around him since he’s presented. He’s never smelled this— gross.

We’re driving through Sioux Falls when I get a text from Bobby and my stomach gives out.

“Turn around,” I might yell. 

Dean’s head whips around and he glares. I hit the call button and side eye him as I wait for Bobby to answer. “They’re at the hospital.”

“What?! Is she okay?!” Dean growls.

“I don’t know, Dean, that’s all Bobby said. ‘Meet us at SF General.’”

He pulls an illegal U-turn and floors it. Bobby doesn’t answer, but he texts again saying to not come stomping in. He gives me a room number. I know it’s her, otherwise she’d be the one texting us. I just don’t know if it’s the pups or —-

“They’re on the fourth floor. The Omega Health Pavillion.”

“Fucking hell. We never should have left,” Dean curses and changes lanes.

“Yeah, and who’s idea was it?” I remind him under my breath, trying not to crush my phone in the palm of my hand.

“Now’s not the time,” Dean warns, not taking his eyes off the road.

I chew on my words and let him get us there— to her. The hospital security are in our faces before we can make it to the elevators. I force myself to not rip their throats out. 

“Sorry, but, official business.” I flash a badge, not even sure which one it is and shove it in both guards’ faces.

“And him?” the older Alpha guard challenges, leering at Dean who is reeking of anxiety.

“I left mine in the car, tub-o, there’s an Omega in danger. Are you gonna let me go or do I have to call your boss?” Dean’s not doing any better than I am, but he’s also not trying to reel it in.

I glare at my brother over the guards’ heads. Dean rolls his eyes and waits out their unnecessary permission.

We could have just said we were next of kin. But two claims—- it’s not really heard of anymore. And they wouldn’t have let us both go. Or either of us.

I worry over the legalities of our situation as Dean punches the floor number on the elevator, forcing the doors closed.

“How long has she been here?” Dean asks like I know anything more than what I’ve told him.

I shrug. “Dunno. Bobby just texted.”

Dean stares at the screen with the increasing digits like it will speed up under the weight of Alpha fury. I try to keep the frustration out of my scent. Dean is too far panicked to pretend to be professional about anything anymore.

I’ve always hated the smell of hospitals, even though they keep the air purified and the surfaces sanitized, you can always smell death. Or loss. Fear is probably the most unrelenting, but it’s the most understandable. And I know we both leave a heavy wave of it behind on that elevator.

The nurse’s station doubles as the security checkpoint, and I can smell pregnant and lactating Omegas from all directions. Dean stops and waits as I check us in, forgoing the badge to keep them from asking more questions.

The nurse tells me, “follow me Dad, we’ll get you to your Omega.”

I nod in gratitude and pointedly don’t look at Dean as I follow her and her mauve scrubs down a corridor away from the scent of fresh pups, to another, shorter hallway blanketed in quiet vigil.

“Bobby?” Dean marches past the nurse when he spots him waiting outside her door. “What the hell happened?!”

Bobby nods at the nurse and she only pauses briefly to scent the air and leave us in peace. Then, finally, he explains. She’d been having more cramping and was feeling faint. He made her go in to check it out on Monday.

“Wait, Monday?! It’s Thursday, Bobby. Why are you telling us now?!” Dean says what I’m thinking.

“She didn’t want to worry you until we knew what was wrong,” Bobby shrugs, but I can tell he never liked the idea. He was just doing what she wanted.

“Is she awake?” I ask.

“I didn’t tell her you boys were on the way, she’s gonna be pissed that you’re pissed. So cool your jets before you burst in there, but I think having you back will at least even her out enough to get out of here.” Bobby sighs. “Or at least I hope so.”

I need more than his hunches. “What are the doctor’s saying?”

“Hormonal imbalance. Like the pregnancy is fighting her. Oh, by the way, there’s three pups. Which they’re also monitoring. Only like twelve-thirteen weeks along, so none of them are viable yet, but yeah.”

Bobby explains like he didn’t just completely break us both.

“Three?” Dean gapes.

Bobby cocks an eyebrow. “You wanted more?”

“I just— three?!” I am not processing this. We knew there was a chance of having multiples, especially with two Alphas, but that’s a lot—- 

“I’m going to check my messages and get some grub. I’ll check in before I head home.” 

“Of course, Bobby. Thank you.” I say before he walks away. 

Dean looks like he’s doing math in his head and I can’t really blame him. “What does he mean by viable?”

Oh.

I sigh and weigh my options. “It means they won’t survive outside of her, yet. They’re too small, underdeveloped.”

“Okay, yeah. But, by chance, with all your reading, you know how long before they could?” Dean is trying to increase her chances while not putting the pups in danger, I can tell.

“With multiples there’s a much higher chance of premature birth. But if we want to keep them, they need her as long as possible. Another twenty weeks would do it, but the ideal? As long as possible.”

“Cuz forty is full term.”

Impressed, I nod. “Yeah.”

“Do you think I smell okay to go in yet?”

I inhale and try not to gag. “It’s hard to tell. You’ve been off to me anyway.”

Dean glares and breathes deep, closing his eyes. I feel him try to force himself to relax. Which, when does that ever work? His heart rate goes down at least.

“She’s exhausted,” Dean mutters, trying not to pace. “She missed us.”

I reach out and try to sense what he’s getting. We’re close enough, she’s probably getting a read on us too, but she hasn’t outright said anything or called us in yet. I’m not as good at it as Dean is, I’m not sure if it’s time or just something he’s better at, or maybe my own worry is clouding over my other senses. I don’t want to dwell on it right now, but he had to say something. Like he’s translating.

“Yeah,” I just agree. “Me, too.”

Because, of course I missed her. But also, I don’t want to sound surprised. He eyes me and inhales, psyching himself up. 

“You coming?” Dean nods to her closed door and I stop short of going in before him.

Her whole room smells of home and anguish.

Dean’s on now, he’s smiling softly and easing inside. I forget how much of him is bravado anyway. I close the door quietly behind us and walk to the side opposite of Dean. Naturally, we each gravitate to the side of her that bares our marks.

She hums in her sleep and her face softens as she catches our scents in her dreams. Dean can’t stop himself from touching her, just a small brushing of her hair behind her ear. It doesn’t wake her, but I know that he’s checking her temperature as he does it.

She’s okay. She’s not thriving or anything, but it feels good just to see her. I pull the blankets up and rest my hand on her stomach, feeling the belt they have tucked around her middle to monitor the babies. I try to find their heartbeats, but they’re so small and so fast, I can’t pick them apart.

It’s enough, for now.

Dean asks me a silent question and I nod, but I think he can feel my relief enough. He nods and grips the rail on the side of her bed. And we wait.

Dean

She’s been in and out of the hospital since we got back from Chicago. It seems whenever we’re separated for more than a few hours, she dips again. We’re guessing the hormone fluctuations happen when we can’t be there to regulate her.

The doctors are literally having us do their jobs for them. They are out of their depth with two Alphas fathering a single, if multiple, pregnancy. 

By her third overnight stay, I hate everything they stand for. 

We get her home and into our bed and just nest for an entire afternoon. She’s putting on weight, which is a good thing, but she’s losing muscle. Sam’s been feeding her his green smoothies— all the extra kale you could ask for. And, I’m not even complaining, because whatever helps.

My nose is buried in her hair and Sam’s her big spoon. Just laying in the not-quite-waking haze before one of us gets up to start dinner.

We don’t talk about the pups unless it’s with the doctors, because we know the more we think about them, the more attached we’ll get. Nobody wants to lose them. But it is still a very real possibility. It’s been this silent agreement— nobody wants to be the jinx.

Meanwhile, Bobby’s been deep in the lore. Most of the books that talk of the older styles of packs are more legend than anything. Maybe a few stories of weathering the elements and fighting for land. There’s very little medical knowledge to gain from all that, but he’s trying.

And then there’s the pesky red-headed beta texting me updates from Dick Roman’s central hub. Not to mention, Garth’s lanky ass helping to calm down an anxious honor-student-turned-prophet. It’s been a rough month.

I breathe her in, trying to keep my thoughts’ foot off the damn gas. She still smells like the hospital, but I know it will be gone by morning. We’ll cover her in us until she takes a shower and then start the process all over again. The healthy glow of the early days of her pregnancy has faded into almost a sheen under her skin, like something is leeching the color out of her.

I make the executive decision to order food for pick up. Nobody wants to cook or clean up at this point anyway, Sam can calm down about whatever he’s gonna say about her sodium levels. She needs food.

Besides, it gives me an excuse to go check on Bobby’s research.

Eventually Sam relents and agrees on pizza when I remind him she can’t have subs unless they’re well toasted. So there, pregnancy guru, I do pay attention. Once the food is ordered, she gets extra cuddly, knowing I’m gonna be the one leaving to get it.

I don’t hate that. 

We watch TV, just some nature show or another, me leaning back against her chest as she plays with my hair and just coats me in nesting Omega pheromones. Sam’s on his laptop next to us, half watching half scouting for anything more the Leviathans can subtly do to slowly conquer the world.

It’s when I drop Bobby’s pie off that he tells me he’s found something. And I mentally start packing before I’m even back with the rest of the food. If Bobby’s network says this guy is the real deal and there’s no trapped Reapers involved, then I’ll take what we can get. 

For her, anything. Always.

Reader

I’m staring at a ghost. Or whatever a dead angel becomes.

“Cas?”

Dean’s looking at him like he hung the moon and I can’t help but worry they’re both actually Leviathans. 

“Did you test him?”

Dean scowls at me. “He’s not possessed.”

I ignore his rudeness and look at Sam, he nods and goes inside to find some borax. 

“Y/N? I understand you’re having some difficulty?” Cas is not right. He’s not a power-tripping wannabe God, but he’s shifty. It’s weird to see him out of the trench coat.

“Okay, what is going on?” I cross my arms over my chest and wait for whatever stupid excuse Dean has for leaving us for an entire day.

“‘Mega, this is Emmanuel, he’s a faith healer.”

I swallow a few choice words and look at Dean and then back to Cas. “Emmanuel. Interesting. How’d you find him?”

“Bobby did.”

Of course he did.

“And what do you do? How do you heal people?” I step down off the porch and look into Cas’ eyes, silently daring him to lie to my face. Just one reason and I’d finally get somewhere to put all the anger that’s been ricocheting around inside my head lately.

“I emit some sort of healing energy after sensing someone’s malady. It is localized and requires little contact, if that’s what’s got you so worried.” Cas— or Emmanuel, whoever, explains cautiously, clearly aware how dangerous I can be. Or maybe that’s just from Dean and however he got him all the way out here.

“How much?” 

“I don’t ask for money. And after your mate saved mine, it’s the least I can do?”

I spin and give Dean a face.

“Yeah, found a demon about to ambush his wife trying to get at him.”

“Wife?”

“Little Beta named Daphne.”

“That shouldn’t matter,” Cas-Emmanuel seems annoyed that his wife’s secondary gender is being scrutinized, not understanding what he was— or must still be if he’s healing folks.

I shake my head and feel Sam join us again. “She cute?”

Dean nods and shrugs. 

“Good for you, Manny.” I turn to Sam. “Uh, could you hold out your hand real quick? Just need to ensure you’re not something else.”

Cas-Emmanuel looks to Dean and Dean glares back, he must decide it’s best to play along. He holds out his left hand, pulling the sleeve of his fancy sweater back. Nothing happens when Sam douses his skin with the cleaner. Well, at least there’s that.

“Alright, buddy, let’s see what you got.” I drop my arms and lean into Cas’ space, closing my eyes and waiting for the cool trickle of his Grace.

“Oh, oh my,” Cas-Emmanuel says. “Well, congratulations. But I don’t think I can help this. This is a matter of unmatched claims. Your offspring need equal input from the hormonal parts of their fathers’ claims. It’s almost like they’re experiencing rejection sickness, much like your other Alpha.”

“Rejection sickness?” Sam asks, voice deep and alarmed.

I turn and look up at Sam.

“She hasn’t claimed you back and you share her with your brother whom she has claimed,” Cas says it all so simply, like we’ve been idiots not to realize it. “I assume that’s why you’re short with your brother and his scent is probably more odorous than usual.”

“Sam?” Dean asks for clarification.

Sam looks at me without seeing me, like he just found out the sky is red. “I didn’t even realize—- I thought it was just stress.”

My chest hurts. I didn’t even know he was hurting. My fault. Again, I’ve been the cause of his pain.

“So how can we fix this? Since, apparently, you can’t.” I ask a little huffy, frustrated at Cas’ blunt appraisals and lack of solutions.

He has the nerve to look squeamish. I feel my eyebrow raise and I put all of my annoyance behind it. Dean looks at the ground like he’s in trouble.

“Um, well, I believe if you make even and equal claims your hormones and the fetuses’ hormones will regulate. And your Alphas will be less prone to rejection as well, or at least I would hope.”

I inhale and nod, figure it sounds too easy, but these boys are always whining about something so we better try it anyway. For my pups, I’d do just about anything at this point. I watch Cas-Emmanuel and I hold out my hand for him to shake.

He takes it timidly, but I shake it hard, drag him to me and scent him. 

“You’re still an angel just wearing a person. I don’t know if you’re being dumb or trying to hide something or to keep someone from finding you— or us. But just know we know who you are.” I let him go and see the panic and alarm on our friend’s face.

He doesn’t understand and it makes me even more cautious to be taking his advice.

“Hey! So, how ‘bout some grub, huh? Long drive,” Dean tries to smooth it out. But I keep watching Cas like a hawk.

Sam was making shish kebabs, so I make a salad to stretch the meal for four adults, knowing Dean will ignore the rabbit food anyway. Bobby’s out for the night, but that doesn’t mean he isn’t going to get an ear full from me in the morning about this faith healer of his.

Cas picks at his food, but I can tell he isn’t hungry. He never was.

It’s after dinner while Dean and Sam are doing the almost nonexistent dishes, that Cas slowly comes back to us. We’re walking around the salvage yard and I’m asking questions about his life now. When eventually he realizes he knows the answers to some of his own questions about me and my Alphas.

Cas and I have never been close, but it hurts all the same to see him so lost.

“As a healer, do you know about the different kinds of Amnesia?” I ask delicately, seeing alarm bells flash behind his brilliant blue eyes. He doesn’t respond. I let it settle in his thoughts as we approach Bobby’s porch.

My temples ache and I’m already getting tired, even though the summer sun is still above the horizon. Cas reaches forward and brushes two fingertips across my brow, earning instant relief.

I exhale.

“I’m sorry, Y/N,” Cas says sadly.

“Don’t know what you’re apologizing to me for,” I mutter. “Or only me— I should say.”

“It was calamity on a global scale,” Cas admits.

“Still is. Fuckers aren’t gone yet,” I huff, opening the backdoor for Cas to file in front of me.

“True,” his pensive reply.

Dean

Cas made it sound so easy, so obvious. The pups were suffering because we all were still tip-toeing around this thing we started. We weren’t all in— hormonally speaking— and they weren’t getting the stability they needed. Knowing Sam had been feeling it too really was the kicker, because I hadn’t meant for it to go that far. Especially knowing how much she’s suffered over the last couple of months.

So, basically, I’ve been a world class asshole.

I do a load of laundry and try to get my head on straight as she and Cas walk around the yard, catching up. Sam keeps giving me this look like he feels guilty but curious and all I smell is relief on him. I’ve been so far into my own head I’m tuning them both out.

What happens if the Leviathans get a hold of us? If Sam or I bite it, is she a goner too?

We need to fix this. Tonight. And pray whatever happens from here on out, the surviving bonds are strong enough to withstand anything that gets thrown at us. We were so close to normal, I’m not risking it anymore. If she needs my mark— I’ll give it to her. I would give her a freakin’ kidney, I’m not seeing it as any less now.

She’s sweaty and tired when she gets back inside, but there’s something behind her eyes that I haven’t seen in weeks and it digs into my chest with claws, latching on tight. Sam gets her some water and we congregate around the kitchen table. She explains how she thinks we can do this best, and how we’ll figure out the Leviathans as soon as she’s stable. And how Cas was sticking around for a few days until we would be rolling out the Stop Dick Permanently Plan.

By the end of the week, this all could be behind us. It feels big and it sounds easier than it is, but so do most things. 

“Okay, go get comfortable— I’ll be up in like an hour and we can go from there.” I usher them upstairs. Sam gets his claim first, beating away rejection sickness had to come first or my re-claiming might have actually killed him— if not the pups.

She’s determined to get it all done at once and I don’t blame her, but I also don’t want to tempt fate. Bodies are complicated and you can’t bank on it all working so easily.

I listen as they get close, like a love song in the background. It’s not quite my style, but I can appreciate the melody. Sam’s a pretty rough guy, and I know he’s holding back because he’s scared.

We all are.

The kitchen is spotless by the time their hour’s up. Plus all the laundry is folded in the mudroom. I rub my hand over my face and march up the stairs. The smell of sex has me stiffening up and the closer I get I catch a hint of blood mixed in. She’s cradled in Sam’s lap, legs around his waist as she laps at her claim on his neck. He’s got some color back and there’s a sense of connection, of rightness mirrored in both of their minds.

Somehow, I don’t feel like I’m interrupting.

Sam nods at me as I start to get undressed, and it’s almost like he’s relieved I’m there.

“How long you been locked in?” I ask clinically, curious to see how much build up I have ahead of me.

“‘Bout ten minutes,” she murmurs, content and dreamy.

“You want me to wait or can I join you?”

She hums richly, like she’s contemplating dessert. My stomach does somersaults. “Hold me? My back is cold.”

“I can do that.”

I crawl behind her, kissing her shoulder before rubbing down her back, then up and down her arms, covering her in my touch. I nuzzle into the crook of her neck and scent her, feeling her steady pulse against my cheek.

She’s okay. They’re all going to be okay.

We sit like that for a couple of minutes, her leaning back against me while still stuck on Sam’s knot. He’s playing with her fingers, his other massive mit is protectively pressed against her rounded belly.

She’s fucking gorgeous and she’s ours.

I’m hard against her side, but I don’t care. Not right now. It’s too perfect to go rutting against her just yet.

Sam’s all pensive, but he isn’t giving off much besides Mate and Content and Pups in random hazes of thought. I wonder if he hears me yet.

I rub my nose along her shoulder, kiss where it meets her neck and smile into the crook when she shivers. She sits up and kisses Sam, holding his face between her hands like he’s precious. He growls against her lips, sighing when she starts to scratch his scalp. She whines when he starts to slip out of her, licking into his mouth to make it last.

I’ve got my hands on the notch of her waist, eying her ass crack like it’s manna from Heaven. I’m so hard and already leaking, but she’s still got Sam to take care of. I start nipping at her nape, just to distract myself more than anything.

Sam’s plotting, I can feel it.

Then she jumps because the fucker starts rubbing her clit. Well, two can play at that game, so I grab her tits and start sucking marks all over her neck and shoulders. I twist those ruddy nipples until she’s mewling, rocking hard against Sam’s half soft dick.

“I gotcha, honey, come here,” I husk out, lifting her by the armpits onto my lap and off my brother’s knot. She gushes all over my thighs, both slick and cum. Then I’m fucking up into her before Sam can even complain.

He’s still got her mouth anyhow.

She slumps against me, holding Sam’s fingers to her mound. She calls out a breathy “Alpha” and we both speed up.

God— she’s so warm, just hugging me so good.

I look down and watch her tits bounce, her baby belly hiding the pleasure Sam’s giving her. Fucking hot.

I cup those beauties, pinching the nubs between my second and third fingers, and roll my hips, hitting her right where she likes it.

“Fuck!” she groans, cumming all over all of us.

“That’s it,” I mumble. “Give us the good stuff.”

I punch my knot up against the clench of her channel, blood pulsing through every inch I can shove inside her. I’m not there yet, but the tight, wet, squeeze of her has me salivating. She writhes in my lap, unwilling to let go of either of us. She rides out her orgasm while murmuring the most delicious filth.

Sam licks his fingers clean and then starts in on her tits. She pulls his hair and puts him where she wants him. And I’m growing heavier at the mere sight of her taking what she wants.

She reaches back and cups my neck, pulling me closer  so she can tongue fuck my mouth. She adds a roll to our rhythm and I’m seeing spots. Everything goes high and tight and I’m fucking flooding her with all I’ve got.

I bite her bottom lip on the way to her throat— to the scar I left there all those months ago. She licks her own blood off my tongue before nudging me closer. I take the scar tissue between my teeth and nip— fuck my knot in higher and pull my teeth wide and sink into the unmarred flesh. Biting deep and dragging her into my throat— feeling her infuse my veins. Weaving us further together.

She sustains me.

I tongue the fresh wound as she grinds down against my knot. I feel her lower lips quiver and I’m cumming all over again. The taste and smell of her on me— inside me, stretches out my orgasm into waves of completion— drawing it out until I’m sobbing her name and she’s shushing me quiet.

Fuck— it feels so good.

I want to put three more pups in her.

I don’t know when Sam crawled away, but I’m grateful for the time to ourselves. I kiss my mark and wrap my arms around her middle— just clinging to her and this moment.

The world finally feels like it makes sense.

Tell me what you think?

Tagging:  @idreamofdeanie​​ @stoneyggirl2 @delightfullykrispypeach​​    @dolphincliffs​​ @flamencodiva​​ @crashdevlin​​ @dontshootmespence​​ @thoughtslikeaminefield​​  @rockhoochie​​ @dawnie1988 @mrswhozeewhatsis​​ @cosicas-cuquis​​ @foxyjwls007 @tumbler-tidbits @defenderrosetyler​​ @ericaprice2008  @wingedcatninja​​ @akshi8278 @itmighthavebeenintentional​​ @smi727​ @princessmisery666​​ @impalaslytherin​

[lorephobic]

Okay but literally like why was Barry doing all his press and promotion if he's just in 3 eps??? There has to be some sort of flash back or whatever of his character no? Why would they waste him like that???? There has to be something else to his character damn it

somebody pointed out that he’s listed for all nine episodes on imdb but that might literally just be false because imdb is not at all an accurate source. yesterday i would have agreed with u completely and would have had so much hope for a flashback but after watching episode three i am scared that uh. the writing is just not that good LOL.

this episode made it so abundantly clear that mota is just another lifeless horrors-of-war bullshit story and will not give us even an ounce of humanity and idk if i’m even willing to give it another chance. i guess i’ll sit on it all week but rn i am feeling extremely hopeless about this show having any form of a redemption arc.

[snipsnipsnippy]

On Ahsoka vs. Kenobi Shows

I wrote this as a rebuttal to one of those Anakin is a monster and the Jedi are innocent victims who did nothing wrong ever posts, and I decided I didn't want to bring attention to it, and I had my own things to say.

There's this idea going around that the Anakin we see in both Ahsoka and Kenobi are mutually exclusive and one of these shows "got" him and the other is propaganda.

Simply in the timing of these, yes, Anakin feels different between these two narratives because he is. Kenobi takes place about 9 BBY where we see Darth Vader approaching the heights of his darkness. The light in him is squashed. Anakin isn’t coming out. The only time we hear his voice is to tell Obi-Wan that Vader killed Anakin, that the man he once loved is gone, which is in my opinion refutes its own statement, because that wasn’t for Vader’s gain. If his only goal is to destroy Obi-Wan or hurt him, why say this? It was only to show mercy to Obi-Wan’s conscience. It was the smallest flash of the Padawan Anakin we saw. Which is to say, there is a lot of growth we see in Anakin from Padawan to even the start of the Clone Wars and certainly by the end of it.

So when we see him in Ahsoka, whether you think of it as a recollection, a mystic guide, or Anakin himself, the context of his character growth matters a literal fuckton. Ahsoka takes place about 11 ABY. 20 years later. And Anakin has changed greatly in that time, beyond literally dying. The entire point of the original trilogy was to show Anakin’s redemption from Darth Vader. He’s turned back to the light by the end of ROTJ, or at least some part of him has. Even in the flashbacks, these are 2-4 years after when we see him in the Kenobi flashback. One shows Anakin as he is a teenager in a practice fight against the man he called his brother or father and the others where he is in a literal war zone.

The way Ahsoka’s Anakin is presented is not as a true flashback. It’s a sort of a play presented by current Anakin of their past. So it’s Anakin inserting his history as Darth Vader into his history as this funny older brother Jedi. These flashback scenes were designed to help Ahsoka reconcile that Anakin is neither wholly good nor wholly bad. The point was not for him to feel like General Skywalker or Darth Vader. It was for all of that history to be in one character. If the goal of Kenobi was to free Darth Vader of Anakin to fight the darkness, then the goal of Ahsoka is to remove the separation of the two, to restor balance. If you walked out of Ahsoka thinking Anakin was fully good, you didn’t pay attention. If you walked out Kenobi thinking Anakin was fully evil, you didn’t pay attention.

From the time we meet him, we are told he will bring “balance to the Force”. This doesn’t mean he will become a great Jedi. This didn’t even have to becoming a Sith, certainly not to the extent of Vader's genocide, but equal and opposite reactions and all. In order to balance the dark and light, he must have experience in both. Balance includes the dark and the light, which is the sort of Anakin we see in Ahsoka, using this mix of the dark and light. If you’re going to be mad that Anakin is not pure evil incarnate, you’re in the wrong universe. We are explicitly told that this is not the case. That Anakin is not fully evil. “Good” people do bad things and “Bad” people do good things.

You can’t ignore that these stories are told by their main characters experiences. The way that both Obi-Wan and Ahsoka view Anakin is incredibly important as well as the point of their lives this view is in. Obi-Wan saw Anakin as a reflection of his merit. Anakin’s successes were his own, as well as his failures, and being the only witness to Anakin’s darkest failure, his perception is cast in this darkness. Ahsoka never had this experience. She knew he’d become Vader, but she’d left him when he was still very much a Jedi and she still looked up to him. She remembered him as good and leaned on those memories for support, believing that Anakin was always inside. When she hears of him again, he’s killed his master, not for his own gain but to save his son. Compound this with the fact that she’d been talking with Luke who shared this same sentiment about his father, that yes, he'd done terrible heinous things, but there was always good in him.

All this is to bring us back to the core of this godforsaken universe. The entire message underlying each and every Star Wars project is about redemption. From Anakin to Boba Fett to Han or Ben Solo, Reva, Hux, Kallus, Bo-Katan, I could go on... There has always been this belief that no one no matter the evils they have committed can still do good and find good in their heart if they only make that choice. This doesn’t make them intrinsically good or evil. This doesn’t make heroes or villains. This just makes people who walk both sides. No, Anakin’s atrocities are certainly not excused by any number of good deeds, and he is by no means “good”, but the message in all of Star Wars is that there are no truly good or bad people, no heroes and villains. Even the light and dark sides of the Force are not wholly good or evil. Their defining traits are selfishness and selflessness. There is good and bad in both of these extremes.

Ahsoka is also just getting started. Kenobi’s story is finished. Of course, their character development is going to be different at this point. This is the point where we’re watching Ahsoka step into her own self-led narrative. And her sluggish pace is a valid criticism of the character, but it’s not the final word on her story. I'm excited to see more.

[0lk0s]

rhysand ramble, idk if i make sense

i absolutely despise rhysand. like i need stronger word than hatred to convey my feelings regarding him.

BUT IM EVEN MORE PISSED ABOUT THE WASTED POTENTIAL OF HIS CHARACTER!!!

in the first book he was sort of interesting character and I was actually looking forward to learn more about him. because he was actually giving morally grey character, but of course sjm had to make him the good guy while still using his 'moral greyness' as a shield against all the heinous things he did. she took a sort of morally grey character and transformed him into goody two shoes who can't do no wrong and all he does is make the world better place. like???!?!

if he was presented as 'yes, i did those terrible things and no, i don't feel remorse, because i FEEL like i had to do them' then maybe i wouldn't hate him. because i don't hate him for the things he did, more so i hate him for not being able to admit that he did them and it's wrong. and im talking about UTM, illyrian women, CoN women and children, his abusive behavior to Feyre, his weird vendetta against Nesta. all of those are wrong. period. there should be no debate, readers should be able to say 'oh, what he's doing is wrong' but instead we got rhys/feysand stans arguing that he is 'morally grey' and he had to do it blah blah blah. is sjm to blame for presenting it this certain way? yes! but also you as a reader should think about what you're reading and not parrot what is written on the paper. because news flash i can write 'color red doesn't exist' and from my pov it might seem like it really doesn't exist, but you know that is not true.

but back to his potential. his character could have gone so many interesting ways. we could have gotten redemption arc because he wanted to be a better man(fae male?) for feyre. we could have gotten corruption arc and feyre having to fight him. or he could have stayed in the morally grey area for all i care. it would also be interesting to see how his power troubles him and the question of what is okay and what no to do with it. his trauma could have been also addressed and discussion about how it manifests in his obsessive need to be in control would also be nice. but no we got this PERFECT 500 year old male with some nightmares who did bad things but only to protect the people he loves, but other than that he'd NEVER done anything bad in his life.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that all the nuance surrounding him disappeared because sjm had to self insert herself into feyre lmao.

im down to have civilized discussion but idk if it's possible in this fandom.

[mostlymaudlin]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers 💫

thank you @decaflondonfog for the tag !! ill tag @sillyunicorn @starwarned @urban-sith @tea-brigade

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

98!! (woah) plus an unrevealed t&n fest fic, so 99. wow i need to do something rly crazy for 100 lol. what if i do a ridiculous crossover of all my fandoms and everyone in the fandom tags will hate me. 

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

544,914. (again. woagh)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

mostly all for the game and simon snow series, have dabbled in & posted even less for check please, captain america, and one direction! i feel like i’m missing something but regardless my fixations are hardcore, so all except like 4k of that posted wc is for either aftg or ss hahahha

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

all are andreil! boyfriend privileges (4k, T) / Trigger (62k, E) / flashes of intimacy (10k, t) / Would you still love me if I was a worm? (6k, T) / Inside Thoughts (1k,T)

man this is long, rest is going under the cut lol

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

not very often, but i wish i did. i am stricken with a combination of being really awkward when people are nice to me & being bad at interacting with anyone in ways i fear could be perceived as ingenuine. im not sure if that makes sense LMAO. and sometimes when i put a story out, i kind of feel like i’ve said my piece — i’ve put so much into it that i don’t really know what else to say!

anyway, i always reply to questions, because that’s got clear social boundaries hahaha, and i DO love talking abt my stories!! and sometimes i’ll reply to comments that really get me thinking. but yeah, i know i reply less than i could, and i want to like double down on the fact that i am endlessly grateful for everyone who has ever left a comment on my work <3

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i have killed simon snow twice lmfao. i’d actually classify icarus as rather hopeful — it’s about grief & healing. but legacies is just fucked up lmfao

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

oh man, i write a lot of happy endings haha. i feel like even when my story is tonally darker (rare), it still has a happy or at least hopeful ending. this is probably not the correct answer, but i think sing of the moon has a really vividly happy ending. like — the sun rises for the first time in the whole fic! amazing. or maybe my high school au, We Can Live Forever, which is just the happiest thing i’ve ever written. 

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not really, thankfully! people are smartasses sometimes but overall ive been lucky. there have been a couple of fics where ive winced before hitting post, but it usually ends up fine

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

yessss. i guess i mostly write tender smut, bc i write tender things in general. i think my smut tends to be rather exploratory/playful as well? intentionally sloppy and awkward choreography hahaha

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

sort of LOL. once upon a time i was betaing @tea-brigade's medieval snowbaz au, Reliquary of an Arsonist, and there’s this part where three highway bandits mug simon and baz and then get blasted by simon’s chosen one magic. i am sick in the head so im in the google doc like “lol what if its kandreil.” and then i was like… what if it was kandreil….. and so i wrote Reliquary of a Bandit

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

i don’t think so

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes!!! and i’m really thankful for everyone who has done so <3333 shoutout to russian aftg translators, yall go HARD

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

i recently collaborated with @thewholelemon on our episode of Star Trek: Redemption, Heart-Shaped Box. by which i mean: i wrote the outline & a few scenes, got really overwhelmed, and jenny turned it into something worth reading! 

i also wrote Good Boy in the snowbaz stoner verse with @starwarned, which was rly fun — we sat in the google doc for like, 5 hours trading back and forth on POVs as we wrote pure porn together LOL. it’s funny to think about this, because lauren knows like everything abt me now but we did not know each other as well back then!!! and we were just like “yeah lets write porn together” hahahahha 

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

right now it is deeefinitely andreil… they are everything to me for reasons i just cannot possibly be brief about LOL so ill just leave it at that

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i have a postcanon snowbaz time travel/time loop wip that i was going to try to write for COBB this year but i fucked up the deadlines then the brainrot was like “guess that means more andreil !”. i did SO MUCH research for it and i think it’s rather clever and smutty and fun bc they are yeeted back to watford era! but it’s also dealing with snowbaz, who are in their late 20s and are like in a relationship low point/actively fighting when they end up in the loop… so they are dealing with that tension at the same time as they are trying to get out of the loop. and also fucking around watford to fulfill fantasies HAHAHA

16. What are your writing strengths?

characterization is the thing i care most about! and i think that’s the draw of fanfic in particular to me — i love getting such a grasp on a character that i can translate them into endless situations while still making them feel true to self. i rarely let myself publish anything until i can read through the whole thing without any he would not fucking say that moments hahahha. this is of course pertaining to my own interpretations of the characters, which is the only thing i care abt lmfao

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

i rely a lot on body language because im always writing abt reticent fuckers who cant use their words. but i think i sometimes overcompensate, or describe actions that don't actually fit the scene. i've seen this described as "cheek-biting" -- like, throwing in action during a conversation just to delay the pacing/further the tone, but when you really look at it, it's not necessary. (cheek-biting being like, "character bites at their cheek" in the middle of a tense conversation)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i don’t really know any other languages! i think i’ve put a little bit of french in neil/kevin/baz POVs before, but my french knowledge is elementary at best. love the idea of it though.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

one direction babyyyyyyyy !! i wrote quite a bit of it in like 2012-2015 but published very little. there’s 1 on my ao3, some lost somewhere on fanfiction.net (i dont rmr my username lol), and tons in my folders from my old laptop lol.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

hmmmmm. im gonna cheat bc i cant pick a single favorite. i always say i think No Turning Back is some of my best writing from a craft standpoint, and it also includes my favorite type of conflict (andrew self-destructing lol). however, i reread both that fic & We Can Live Forever on a plane trip recently after not having touched either for 6+ months — and the solidness of We Can Live Forever actually surprised me, especially because i wrote the majority of that fic while i was stoned and also view it as just exceedingly silly. the world of it is just very rich, and also very very different from the typical character backstories, and i’m very proud of how much that reread played with my heartstrings.  

ok last one — there are several installments of my flashes of intimacy series that i come back to a lot, because i’m proud of what they each accomplish in 500 words. especially because i often turn to those when im trying to express my own emotions lol. specifically, my favorites are picking fights, i don’t mind, swimming lessons, and practicing gratitude.

that was such a bullshit and cocky way to answer this lmfaooooo. but tbh i am my own biggest fan and that is by design — i write stuff so that i can reread it months later and have it be perfectly catered to my tastes. i love all my fics <3