#my brother said force ghost and I said world between worlds

[itsthegirlinthebowtie]

fulcrum….sabine finally wearing her armor…!!! ahsoka flexing and using only one lightsaber against the inquisitor because she only needs one to absolutely destroy them…very snips of her…. “funny, he never mentioned you”!!! carson teva my boy…the way sabine caved because she loves Ezra and couldn’t bring herself to risk losing the opportunity to get him back…fucking ANAKIN AND AHSOKA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BITCH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! IT FUCKING HAPPENED FUCK I’M NOT OKAY. HER FACE WHEN SHE HEARD HIS VOICE NOBODy TALK TO ME

[wineauntie]

IT ISN’T THE END OF THE WORLD— q.hughes x hughes sister!reader

summary: three times that Quinn comforted you and one of the times you returned the favour.

notes: big brother Quinn is my Roman Empire, I can’t lie! You are five years younger than Quinn.

warnings: literally the fluffiest of fluffs, use of y/n and y/n/n, fem!reader.

word count: 3.5k+

1. being left out – aged six and eleven

You sat on the grass outside of your home, your knees tucked into your chest as tears dripped down your face. Ahead of you, Jack and Luke were skating around in rollerblades with a singular net set up on the tarmac as they played a game of hockey. You'd tried to join them, even going as far as strapping up your purple rollerskates but when you'd asked your two older brothers to join them, they'd outright told you that you weren't allowed.

"Y/n/n, this is boys only game," Jack had explained, half lifting you towards the grass and away from the road. "You can't play!"

"Yeah, you can't play," Luke piped up, fidgeting with his stick, his curls peeking out from beneath his helmet.

"But-" You'd tried to wiggle out of Jack's grasp as you reached the grass.

"Stay on the grass," Jack had urged, patting your head before he skated back towards Luke.

Your bottom lip trembled as you collapsed onto the grass beneath you, being forced to watch rather than partake. You couldn't understand why you couldn't just play with them. And as you cried, neither of the two boys noticed your tears or your splotchy face.

"Mom said dinner will be ready in an hour!"

Quinn's voice called out from the front door, in shock, you turned just in time for him to glance towards you. His face fell at the sight of your miserable eyes and he quickly shut the front door before making his way towards you.

"What's wrong?" His worried voice caused your lower lip to tremble once more. Even at eleven years old, Quinn was your protector. He was the one you ran to with every small problem, the one who'd sit you down and explain things and the one who you secretly favoured the most.

You cast a look over to Luke and Jack who continued their game, before you dropped your head between your knees. Quinn sighed and carefully sat beside you, his legs stretching out far beyond your own.

"What's wrong, y/n/n?"

That was what made you burst into tears again. A very startled Quinn rapidly put his arm around you, hugging you into his side. Your tears began to stain his shirt as he awkwardly patted your head.

"Jack and Luke won't let me play!" You wailed, as a small scowl crossed Quinn's face. "They said I have to stay here...I hate here!"

"C'mon now," Quinn tried to calm you. "We don't need to play with those two stupids." You let out a sniffly laugh as you rested against his shoulder.

"Mom said you can't call them stupid anymore," you croaked out, and now it was Quinn's turn to laugh.

"I know but I'll tell you a secret–they are!"

You smiled and looked towards your two brothers who were now fighting, pushing one another back and forth.

"How about you and me go in and have a tea party?" He suggested, scrunching his nose up as he watched Jack and Luke battle it out. "We can even dress up?" You jumped to your feet excitedly, dragging Quinn up with you.

"Please!" You giggled, pulling Quinn towards the house, your tears long forgotten. "I have a tiara for you!" Quinn painted an excited expression across his face, but very real happiness spread through his body at the sight of your joy.

2. the nightmares – aged eight and thirteen

You shot awake with a startled gasp, your small hands clutching your childhood teddy. You'd been getting nightmares for weeks yet you couldn't pinpoint where they'd begun— in reality, Jack had told you countless ghost stories about a small evil ghost lurking in your room, and you seemed to have taken that story to heart.

Tears welled in your eyes as you glanced around your room in terror, the light of a pink wall flower illuminated the majority of the room...yet the shadows that lingered left your body shaking. The horrors from your nightmares, which couldn't be remembered, haunted you and the thought of going back to sleep was virtually impossible.

Your bottom lip trembled as you clutched your teddy to your chest, and jumped out of the bed towards the hallway, not daring to look behind you. The light from the bathroom down the hall illuminated the darkness, as you stood dead centre with your head tilted slightly.

You didn't know where to go.

You'd already run to your mom and dad multiple times during the night and your little self felt rather guilty. You knew they needed their sleep– everyone did.

You stifled a whimper, your tears dripping down your face as you glanced down the hall, noticing a door slightly open. Without another thought, you rushed down the hall, your bare feet slapping against the wooden flooring as you entered the open door.

You slipped into the dark room, your teddy close to your chest as you approached the lump beneath the covers on the bed by the window. Soft snores echoed through the room as you crept towards the bed as quietly as possible. Your tears were still falling, as you sniffled and carefully tapped the lump's shoulder.

You watched as he stirred, and then a familiar voice broke through the darkness, "What time is it?" The voice was groggy with sleep, but the concern was evident.

"I had a nightmare again, Q," you whispered with bleary eyes, your voice trembling with pure fear and exhaustion. "I can't sleep. I'm sorry..."

Quinn sat up, rubbing his eyes before reaching out to pull you into a comforting embrace. "Shh, it's okay. C'mere," he yawned while reassuring you, his arms enveloping you in warmth and security. He lifted you onto the bed, his half-lidded eyes glancing towards his digital clock that blinked the time 3:45 am.

You buried your face into his chest, clinging to him as if he were your lifeline. His steady heartbeat beneath your ear offered a soothing rhythm, calming your racing thoughts.

"Want me to go tell Mom?" He asked, earning him a rapid shake of the head from you.

"Okay...do you want to stay here?" Quinn hesitantly offered with as soft of a voice as he could muster so early in the morning. He pulled you away from his ever so slightly so that he could look down at you. With a half-nod, you cuddled closer to him, letting him drape half of his blanket over your body.

"Just don't hog the covers," he grumbled, lying back down on the bed, his head burying itself in his pillow. "And don't wake up early."

You smiled and melted into the comfort of Quinn's bed, your head on the edge of the pillow you were being forced to share. The feeling of the weight of exhaustion finally pulled you under and as you drifted off to sleep, the nightmares seemed to fade away, replaced by the comforting presence of your older brother by your side.

The next morning, your mom had woken up, ready to bring you to practice, only to find your bed empty. A flare of panic shot through her body, all those horror stories of child abduction running through her mind as she exited the room with pursed lips.

Ellen peered into Luke's room first, her head sticking around the wooden frame. For a mere second, she allowed herself to stifle a smile at the sight of Luke sprawled across the bed like a starfish, his covers abandoned on the floor as soft breath escaped his mouth. She nodded slowly and closed the door before checking the room beside his.

Jack's room was messy. That was the first thing she noticed. Clothes were strewn across any furniture left in sight, with muddy shoes thrown into the corner. Ellen covered her mouth to stop herself from laughing at the sight of Jack sleeping. Jack, like Luke, was sprawled across his bed, only instead of actually being on the bed– Jack was hanging half off of it. His head was almost touching the rug on his floor — his toes the same. His head was thrown back with snores periodically escaping his mouth.

She shook her head lightly before closing the door quietly and moving towards the last bedroom in the hall. Quinn's door was ajar, allowing Ellen to silently slip in. She paused in her steps at the sight ahead of her. You curled up around Quinn, your teddy snug between you two, as his arm wrapped around your head protectively. The two of you were fast asleep, oblivious to the utter relief Ellen was feeling.

She watched the two of you for a few seconds before taking a quick picture and sending it to Jim with a soft smile. Ellen looked down at you two once more and fixed the cover over the both of you. She backed away slowly and slipped out of the room leaving the two of you to sleep in for the day.

3. sickness – aged 10 and fifteen

"Are you sure you'll be okay looking after her?"

Ellen grabbed a bag from the floor beside the couch Quinn sat on, a bowl of cereal in his hands as he watched a game. You had fallen sick two days prior due to the flu and were currently bed-bound. Your dad was out of state, and your mom had to take Luke and Jack to a hockey match in the next town over.

"Yeah, Mom, don't worry," Quinn answered through muffled words as he swallowed a spoonful of food. "I can take care of her for a few hours, it'll be fine."

Ellen bit her lip in worry glancing towards the stairs before ruffling Quinn's hair. "Don't start a fire or kill either yourself or y/n," she instructed, "she might wake up soon and might want food, only give her toast and water or she'll throw it all up."

"Mom, I got it," Quinn reassured her, standing up and gathering Luke's hockey bag in his arms. "I'll help you bring these out."

Your mom had left ten minutes after with Jack and Luke, leaving Quinn in charge of the house. You had woken up to the sound of Luke yelling and the door slamming behind him. Your throat felt raw from the amount of coughing you were doing combined with the fact you could only breathe from your mouth as your nose was blocked up.

You groaned into your pillow, your clammy hands clutching your uneasy stomach as you buried yourself beneath your covers. Quinn cautiously peeked into your room at the noise of you moving around, his eyes wide and careful as they landed on your paled face and shaking body.

Quinn hesitated for a moment, unsure of what to do. He had never been in charge of taking care of you while you were sick before. But seeing you there, looking so vulnerable and unwell, he knew he had to step up.

Taking a deep breath, Quinn quietly approached your bed, trying not to startle you. "Hey, it's just me," he said softly, his voice filled with concern. "How are you feeling?"

You managed to croak out a weak response, your voice barely audible. Quinn frowned and his eyebrows furrowed upon seeing how much you were struggling. Without another word, he hurried downstairs to grab a glass of water and a slice of bread for toast, just as your mom had instructed.

Returning to your room, Quinn carefully placed the items on your bedside table, as he helped you sit up, propping pillows behind your back for support. You moaned in discontent at the feeling of sickness that continued to roll through your body as he handed you the glass of water and a piece of toast.

"Drink slowly," he spoke carefully, watching anxiously as you took small sips and nibbled on the food. "You don't feel like getting sick, do you?!"

You shook your head weakly, placing the leftover crusts on your plate. You felt a tickle grow in your throat as another cough wracked through your body. Quinn jumped into action, running your back as he'd seen Mom do countlessly over the past two days. His warm hand lent you comfort as your body contorted.

Once the coughing subsided, you leaned back against the pillows, feeling exhausted but a little better with Quinn by your side. He stayed with you, chatting softly and making sure you were comfortable until you drifted off to sleep again, knowing that you were in good hands.

As you rested, Quinn kept a watchful eye on you, ready to spring into action at any sign of distress. Halfway through your unrestful nap, your body shook violently, yet your forehead was beaded with sweat. Quinn gulped in worry as he covered you with a blanket and wiped your forehead with a cool cloth.

He hated seeing you like this, it made him want to kick whoever had passed the sickness onto you.

Throughout the day, Quinn checked in on you regularly, making sure you were comfortable and had everything you needed. He even brought up some of your favourite books and movies to help pass the time when you woke, staying by your side until you drifted off to sleep again.

When your mom finally returned home with Jack and Luke– both elated from their win, she was relieved to find you resting peacefully, thanks to Quinn's attentive care.

"You did well, Quinn," Your mom smiled, pressing a kiss to his forehead as he scrunched up his nose. "Thank you."

Quinn simply shrugged it off as he looked towards your sleeping figure. Despite his nonchalant expression, deep down, he felt a sense of pride erupt inside of him knowing that he had been there for you when you needed him most.

"Let's hope you don't get sick now," Ellen hummed, brushing a hand through his hair. Quinn pushed a smile onto his face, getting sick would be worth it as long as you were better.

4. moving away – aged 16 and 20

The morning sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a warm glow into Quinn's room, illuminating the chaos of packing strewn across the floor. Hockey jerseys, equipment, and mementoes from his years of playing for the local team adorned his walls, each item holding memories of victories, defeats, and the camaraderie of teammates. But today, there was a sense of bittersweetness in the air, a mixture of excitement and sadness, as Quinn prepared to completely leave Michigan behind and embark on a new chapter of his life in Vancouver. He had been offered the opportunity to play for the Vancouver Canucks, a dream come true for any aspiring hockey player. But with it came the prospect of leaving behind everything he had ever known – our family, our home, our tight-knit community.

You sat on the edge of his bed, watching him carefully fold his clothes, a furrow of worry etched on his brow. "Are you okay, Quinn?" you asked softly, reaching out to place a comforting hand on his shoulder.

He sighed, setting down the hoodie he was folding and meeting your gaze with a mix of apprehension and sadness in his eyes. "I don't know," he eventually admitted, his voice tinged with uncertainty. He ran a hand through his tousled hair. "I mean, Vancouver is such an incredible opportunity, but... I'm going to miss everyone and don't you dare tell that to the idiots out back."

You let a small smile grace your face at the thought of Jack and Luke catching wind of Quinn's unease. You found yourself nodding understandingly, feeling a pang of sadness yourself at the thought of Quinn leaving. He was not only your older brother but also one of your best friends, someone you had always looked up to and relied on for guidance and support. The idea of him being thousands of miles away was daunting, to say the least.

Even when he was in college he was only one measly phone call away and then another forty-minute drive. He was never thousands of miles away in a different country.

You nodded sympathetically, understanding the weight of his dilemma. Quinn had always been fiercely devoted to our family and friends, and the thought of leaving them behind was undoubtedly terrifying. But deep down, You knew he couldn't let this opportunity slip away – not when it was his chance to shine on the ice and pursue his passion for hockey at the highest level.

"Quinn, listen to me," I said, stepping closer to him and placing a reassuring hand on his arm. "I know it's scary to leave, but this is your dream we're talking about. You've worked so hard for this moment, and you can't let fear hold you back."

"You'll do great, Quinn," you continued to reassure him, with a cracked smile. "And we'll still be here for you, no matter how far away you are. Plus, Vancouver should be nice, and I've only been there twice, maybe I can visit with Mom and Dad?"

Quinn managed a small smile at your words, though you could tell the worry still lingered in his eyes. "I know," he said softly. "But it won't be the same without having you all there with me." He looked at you, his eyes searching yours for reassurance. "I don't want to leave you all behind."

I smiled softly, feeling a swell of pride for my big brother. "We'll be okay, Quinn. Mom and Dad are proud of you, and so are Luke, Jack, and I. Hell, before you know it, Jack might be up there playing with you, who knows!"

A sense of calm washed over Quinn as your words sank in, his tense shoulders relaxing ever so slightly. He knew that no matter where his hockey career took him, your family would always be his anchor, his support system through thick and thin. You scooted closer to him, wrapping your arms around him in a tight hug.

"We'll always be here for you, Quinn," you whispered, feeling the weight of the impending separation settling over you both. "And we'll be cheering you no matter where you are, no matter what happens, every step of the way."

You sat there in silence for a moment, clinging to each other as if afraid to let go. But eventually, Quinn pulled away, a determined look in his eyes as he resumed packing his belongings.

"You're right," he sighed, his voice steady with newfound resolve.

"As always," you beamed with a laugh, as Quinn elbowed you playfully. You bowed your head glancing at Quinn briefly. "I'm gonna miss you, y'know?"

"I know," he hummed, "but like you said, you can come visit whenever you want and you can call or text me whenever you need to." You nodded silently, swallowing the lump in your throat.

You smiled, feeling a surge of pride welling up inside you. Your brother may be leaving Michigan behind, but you knew that he was destined for great things in Vancouver. And no matter where life took you, you would always be there for each other, bound by the unbreakable bond of family.

[shotmrmiller]

Submitting to his dominance part I

Pairing: Simon 'Ghost' Riley x F!Reader

TW: mean dominant, rough oral

18+ MDNI

WC: 1.5k

Being Johnny’s best friend had its downsides. Like how he essentially forced you into ‘guy talk’. Yeah, sure, you liked women too. But having to listen to him rant about his conquests was going to make you tear your hair out. You liked women, you did, but this buffoon going on about what he liked to do in bed was too much. He was essentially your brother from another mother. Ew.

An hour into his stories, you tell him that if you have to sit through any more of his freaky sexcapades, you might just murder him. And that’s how he brings up Ghost. You’ve met him several times— being Johnny’s residential pest. He was a big motherfucker who always had his face covered. You always were a sucker for the tall, dark, and mysterious type but he always seemed uninterested in everything— including you.

“Ye think I’m a reprobate, hen, ye should hear ‘bout Ghost! He’s the freaky one! Telling the lasses he’s with to kneel and behave or will spank them ‘til they cry. Ghost is a skyrocket, I tell ya!” And that gets your attention. 

“What?” you blurt out. 

“Yeah, hen! He’s into the whole collar and gags— boorish if ye ask me.” 

You could kiss Johnny. Having more than dabbled in the world of BDSM, you knew you could handle many things— maybe even more than what Ghost offered. You bite back an ecstatic smile as Johnny continues with his story-telling, but you aren’t listening anymore.

Unbeknownst to Johnny, he’s just given you a way into Ghost’s trousers.

━

You lounge on the couch as Ghost and Johnny sit around the island drinking. By the sound of Johnny talking in cursive, he’s more than a little sloshed. Then he slaps his hand on the countertop, the sound startling you, and declares how he’s gonna go take a piss. You roll your eyes. Charming.

He stumbles away and then it’s just you two in the living area. This is your only chance. Steeling your nerves, you make your move. 

“Hey. Ghost.” 

He turns his head to the side a little, a cue that he’s listening. 

“I have a proposition for you.” Then stand up and make your way towards him, casually leaning against the island. Ghost looks completely lax, but his eyes sparkle with slight interest. 

Now or never.

You summon your courage and say, “Johnny spoke of you being dominant in bed. I want you to dominate me.” 

He looked at you with a hooded gaze, before scoffing. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, pet.”

That’s not an outright no. This horse isn’t dead yet, so you’re gonna continue to beat it. 

“Said you like to collar your women. Keep them quiet with a gag. I can crawl on my knees if you ask it of me. I’ll speak when spoken to.” 

Ghost’s shoulders are stiff as he stares around your face as if trying to catch a sign of a prank. He inhales and looks like he’s about to shut you down completely but you talk first.

“My safeword is Pelican. I like to be ordered around, spanked, and tied up. I promise to surrender myself completely. I promise to be a good girl for you.”

Ghost sits there, looking at you in complete silence. Your heart pounds in your ears, your cheeks warming in embarrassment. Maybe he’s not interested. Maybe Johnny had been joking. God, you didn’t even think about it being a bloody joke.

You straighten, getting ready to either run away or curl up and die when two big hands grab onto your hips— keeping you in place.

“You want to be dominated, eh?” and pulls you to stand in between his legs.

“I’m not going to be kind,” and tightens his grip on you, “I’m not going to murmur sweet nothings in your ear. I’m going to use you for my pleasure— like my personal sex toy.” 

One hand moves from your waist to grab your hair in a vicious grip and pulls you down to his eye level, close to his masked face.

“Oh, pet. I’m going to ruin you.”

You swallow hard because you know he is and can’t wait but then the sound of the bathroom door opening brings you back into the present. Ghost lets go of your hair and you jump back, putting space between you. 

As you run your fingers through your hair, Johnny stumbles into the kitchen, tripping over a chair. Positively pissed. You move to catch him, putting his arm over your shoulder, yours around his waist to hold him upright.

“Right, Johnny boy, it’s time for bed.” you chuckle at his drunken mumbles.

After tucking him in, you head back to the kitchen. To Ghost. You watch him put his used glass into the sink before crossing his arms and leaning back. Expectantly. As you’re about to walk to him, he holds his hand up in a stopping gesture. 

“No. You’re gonna be a good girl f’me, remember?” he cocks his head to the side, and with finality in this tone says, “Crawl.”

Oh. Your heart is about to burst out of your chest. It starts now. Your reaction is visceral— dropping to your knees so hard they’ll be bruised tomorrow. Holding eye contact, you slowly drag your body towards him. One hand forward, then a leg. Repeat. 

Reaching his feet, you keep your palms flat on Johnny’s wooden floor and arch your back to look up at Ghost with wide eyes. He looks cool, indifferent. But the bulge in his jeans tells you otherwise. 

You wait for him patiently, continuously holding eye contact and it feels like an hour has passed before he talks. Commands.

“Take my cock out.” 

Your thighs tremble in anticipation, your pussy throbbing at his words. Hands to his waist, you can’t unbuckle his belt fast enough. You hook your fingers into his pants and pull hard enough that you hear a seam unstitch. That earns you a slap across the cheek, hard enough to sting. 

“Careful.” You wish you could say it was a reprimand but the feel of his calloused fingers on the soft skin of your cheeks sends a jolt straight to your cunt. 

Pants down, you stare at his cock. It’s a goddamn sight. Long and so very thick, heavy enough that even erect, it bends downward— foreskin covers half of the head and balls hang low. A masterpiece. 

Another slap to your cheek snaps you out of your adoration. 

“Open your mouth, pet.” 

He tastes of salt and his musk. You could sit here with him in your mouth forever. You go as deep as you can take him and he hisses when you hold him there until you gag and pull back— getting the stringy saliva from the back of your throat onto his cock. Flattening your tongue, you start to bob on his length until he’s properly wet. 

Ghost puts his hand on your head and begins to rock his hips and you start to add a twist with your head on every thrust. Soon, you feel him leaking more salty precum and know he’s close so you start sucking— cheeks sinking in. His thrusts start to get harsher and sloppier and the noises coming from your throat as he fucks it is sinful.

His grip shifts from your head to your hair and you put your hands on his thighs— digging your nails into his skin and he growls out, “That’s it. Come on, pet, you can take it.” 

Then there’s salty blooming on your tongue, cum leaking from the corners of your mouth because there’s simply no more room with his cock in it— dripping down your chin and onto the floor. It’s completely silent apart from Ghost’s stuttering breaths and Johnny’s muffled snoring behind his closed door.

Ghost pulls out his softening length and tucks it away, pulling his jeans back up but leaving the belt unbuckled. He then cups your jaw and makes you watch him watch you swallow his cum.

He gives you a light tap on your reddened cheek from his previous slaps and breathily says, “Atta girl. I didn’t even have to tell you what to do.” 

Your knees throb and your thighs burn but his compliment makes every single ache worth it. Any crumb of praise from him, you’ll take. 

He bends down to your kneeled form before saying, “Next week, I’m gonna pass by your flat. Until then, you do not masturbate, you do not come— And I don’t care what you tell Johnny but make sure he doesn’t visit.” and turns to leave. 

Clearing your throat, you croak out, “But you don’t even have my address.” 

Holding the door open, Ghost shrugs. 

“Don’t have to tell me. I know where you live, pet.”  The noise of the door clicking shut echoed through the apartment. With a groan, you put your arse on the floor and slowly extend your knees— hissing at the sharp pain of your knees finally unbending. Ghost is mean. So mean. How does he expect you to not touch yourself when the cum still drying on your chin has you soaking your knickers?

@thychuvaluswife

A/N: ha ha! hes a lean mean machine! i had way too much fun writing this i need help

[azrielsdove]

Love and Loss: Final Chapter

Warnings: None?

Ch.10 Here

***

You were happy, curled into Azriel’s side on a couch in the library. Cassian sat across from you, doing his own reading. The past week had been the most peaceful of your life, especially in recent times. The three of you had been left alone, doing what you pleased. The discussion of moving to a new court had not been brought up again, allowing you all to enjoy the fake peace. You were beginning to think it wouldn’t be all that bad to stay here, if Rhysand just left you alone.

You should’ve known better than to hope for such a foolish thing.

The House shook, as if to announce that evil had arrived. You stiffened against Azriel, eyes flicking up to catch Cassian’s. “Let us go congratulate the happy couple,” he said, voice dripping in animosity. You laughed and stood, pulling Azriel up with you. Cassian flanked to your other side, a silent show of who he chose in this ceaseless fire. The three of you entered the grand dining room, finding Rhysand and Feyre standing there rather unhappily.

“This is the grace you give your High Lord? Forcing me to wait while you three casually shuffle through the halls?” You resisted the urge to roll your eyes at his haughty tone, Feyre smiling smugly at his side. You’d hoped she’d realize that Rhysand wasn’t worth it, even with a mating bond.

Unfortunately, it seemed like she was attached to him with glue.

Rhysand gestured for the three of you to sit, taking the head seat with Feyre next to him. “We have much to discuss. Mor and Amren should arrive shortly.” He glared at you, eyes narrowing. “I’m not sure you need to be here for this.”

A low growl came from Azriel, and you turned to see him staring holes into his brother. “She stays. She has as much right as anyone else does to be here.”

Rhysand cocked his head, eyes moving between the two of you. “She does not work for me, as you all do. She is not privy to the classified information we discuss. Why should I allow her presence here?” Gods, had his time with Feyre rejuvenated his insufferable cockiness? “Or do you just wish her here as your pretty little mate, brother.” You chose to ignore the way he sneered ‘mate’ as if it were an insult, a disgusting and horrible thing.

Cassian answered for him, sensing the quickly growing anger in the shadowsinger. “Perhaps the same could be asked of you, Rhysand.” He motioned to Feyre. “What does she do besides ride you?”

You stifled a laugh, shocked at the brazenness of your friend. Dark power curled throughout the room, Rhysands eyes narrowed at the General. “You will watch your tongue around her.” Cassian held up his hands in mock surrender, a smile ghosting his lips.

“My apologies, brother.” You knew he planned to follow up with another witty quip, and maybe it was lucky that Mor and Amren chose that moment to arrive. The pair paused at the tension in the room, looking at each other.

“Please, sit,” Rhysand commanded, waving a hand to the two empty chairs closest to him. Pathetic. Once they were sat he stood, holding a hand out for Feyre to stand with him.

Next to him.

You twisted your hands together in your lap, a feeling of dream settling around you. Whatever Rhysand was about to say was going to tear your world apart, you knew. As if he could feel the tension in you, one of Azriel’s shadows swirled comfortingly around your hands and wrists, soothing the anxiety coursing through you.

“I would like to re-introduce you all to Feyre,” Rhysand drawled, a sickly sweet smile plastered to the females face. “My mate. My wife.” He turned to look directly at you, eyes blazing with righteous power.

“The High Lady of the Night Court.”

High Lady. High Lady. High Lady. The title ran around and around your mind, mouth slightly open in pure shock. All those centuries of staying a step behind him, allowing him to command the attention of the Court. All that time of standing off to the side of his throne, the picture of obedience. All those years of Rhysand telling you that politics were no place for a wife of the High Lord, that your job was to serve and love him. All the moments in which you had wanted to offer suggestions to the goings-on of court, only to be shut down immediately.

All of that, and he had decided to make Feyre his equal.

This was enough. You stood, palms flat on top of the table in front of you. Rhysand glared, anger rising again. “You will show respect to your High Lady.” You looked directly at him, forcing your body not to shake with rage.

“She is not my High Lady.” Feyre frowned as a cruel smile made its way onto Rhysands face.

“I believe she is. You have always been dutiful to this Court, my dear. Let us not start this new age in a jealous spat.” Your ears were ringing. A jealous spat? You sucked in a deep breath, forcing your voice to stay calm.

“You are not my High Lord, Rhysand.” You were pleasantly surprised by the power in your voice, straightening up to your full height. “This is not my Court. I have served by your side for 500 years, and this is how you have chosen to treat me? No, I will not obey your useless laws any longer.” You clasped your hands in front of you, turning to fully face Rhysand.

“I am leaving.”

There was a stunned silence throughout the room, broken by loud laughter from the High Lord. “You cannot leave. You truly believe I will allow you safe passage from the streets of this Court? After what you know, I would be a fool to allow you to leave this place alive.” Azriel stood suddenly, the threat against you too much. Cassian stood as well, a hand lightly on the sword strapped at his side.

“You should know better than to threaten me, Rhysand.” Your voice was cool, dangerous. “While you have been off galavanting with your new plaything, I have been in contact with some of the other High Lords.” His eyes widened, surprised that you would have the forethought to do such a thing. “You may recall our old friend, Lucien.”

“You wouldn’t dare-“ You raised a hand, cutting him off.

“I would. I have written to him, as well as to his father. Did you know, Rhysand, that Lucien has been claimed as heir to the Day Court?” You gave a small laugh, enjoying the way his face paled. “Helion was very interested in what you have been doing, playing this petty game while Prythian is on the brink of war.” Rhysand blinked, mouth open as if he were going to say something, but no words came out. “He has decided it is rather worthwhile to have me serve in his court, along with your Spymaster and General.” He looked at his brothers, hurt and betrayal shadowing his eyes. “We go to him today, actually. He is expecting us, and if we fail to show the full force of the Day Court armies will march upon Velaris. Is that what you wish?” You gestured towards the windows, to the peaceful city below. “Your precious home destroyed, all because you don’t have the skills to be a proper male?”

Rhysands eyes flared, his fists clenched tight at his side. Feyre stood next to him, looking like a wounded puppy. “You will regret this,” he growled, knowing he was stuck.

You smiled at him, giving an exaggerated curtesy. “I do not think I will.”

***

Helion had truly sent for you later that day. You had packed only the things most special to you, choosing to leave majority of your Night Court belongings here. You would not need them in the brightness of Day.

Azriel and Cassian joined you on the edge of Velaris, twin leather packs slung over their shoulders. You smiled at them gratefully, thankful for their support now more than ever. The beating of wings captivated your attention, the three of you looking to the skies to see two pegasi coming to land in front of you. Your breath was taken away at their beauty, the strong silky wings. It took all your self control to not reach out and touch them.

“Well, here we go,” chuckled Cassian, pulling himself up onto the tawny beast closest to him. You knew a part of him was devestated to leave to Night Court, to leave Velaris. After all Rhysand had done, they had been as close as brothers once upon a time. It brought great sadness to your heart as well to accept how much had changed.

Azriel helped you up onto the gleaming white pegasus, climbing up to sit behind you. His arms wrapped securely around you, keeping you safe as the pegasi shot into the sky. You looked forward, between the ears of the animal you were riding, ignoring the shrinking city of Velaris behind you.

***

Helion and Lucien were waiting on the grand balcony of the Day Court Palace when you landed. You beamed at your friend, running up to throw your arms around the redhead. It had been far too long since you had last seen him. He wrapped his arms tight around your waist, burying his face in your hair. “Thank the Mother you made it,” he sighed, voice full of emotion. Tears began to prick at your eyes as you inhaled his comforting cinnamon woods scent, having finally escaped Rhysand.

Azriel cleared his throat from behind you, the fresh mating bond not too pleased with your extended embrace. You pulled away slowly from Lucien, placing a quick kiss to his cheek. Azriel made no effort to hide his annoyance at the affection, causing you to laugh at your surly mate.

Helion stepped up to you, grasping one of your hands tight between his. “It is an honor to have you here,” he said, before looking to Azriel and Cassian as well. “To have all of you here.” You smiled gratefully, all the adrenaline rushing from your body. Helion released your hand and Azriel curled an arm around your waist, holding you tight to him. A sight Helion definitely noticed, winking suggestively at you. “Come, I imagine you are drained after your journey. I have rooms prepared for all of you. You may rest tonight, and tomorrow we will begin discussing what all has happened and where we go from here.”

You all followed Helion into the palace, Lucien coming in step at your other side. He ignored the daggers Azriel glared at him, looping his arm through yours. “I can’t say i’m not pleased that Rhysand has showed his true colors,” he said, smirking down at you. You rolled your eyes and playfully smacked his arm.

“Oh, hush. You never much liked him.” You laughed, remembering all too well how your friend loved to criticize your now ex-husband. “You didn’t like these two either,” you stage whispered, pointing to Azriel and Cassian.

Lucien looked at them as well, tipping his head in apology. “I learned early to not trust the High Lord of the Night Court and his closest confidants. Can you truly blame me?” Cassian laughed, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry Lulu, we don’t condone the way he’s acting these days.” Lucien groaned at the nickname, leaning down to loudly whisper to you.

“Must we keep them as well?” You laughed again, squeezing his arm tight.

“Unfortunately one of them is my mate, and they kinda come as a package deal.” You and Lucien dissolved into fits of laughter as the two Illyrian shoulders stared you down.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Azriel grumbled, pulling you away from Lucien. Cassian nodded in agreement, although a smile played on his lips.

Helion stopped in between two matching golden doors, one on each side of the hall. “I assumed you would like to remain close, at least for now.” He looked to Cassian. “If these two become a bit too much of a disturbance, we can easily arrange a new room for you.” Your cheeks flushed as the General laughed, knowing you wouldn’t hear the end of that anytime soon. Azriel chuckled at your side, pulling you gently towards your door.

“I’ll make sure to get her to be extra loud for you tonight, Cass,” he cooed, blowing a kiss to his brother as he shut the door behind him. You gasped, swatting at his chest playfully.

“Azriel!” You scolded, though laughter bubbled from you. You already felt lighter here, happier. Azriel moved closer, pulling you close against him before dipping down to press a soft kiss to your lips. You hummed into him, love flooding through you. He began moving you backwards, lips still connected, until your legs hit the bed in the center of the room. You fell onto it, looking up at Azriel. He leaned down over you, hands skimming over your thighs.

“Well, shall we make good on my word?”

***

The next days were spent with endless planning and debates, Azriel and Cassian telling Lucien and Helion what they knew. Truthfully you were bored to tears being in these meetings, but you knew it was important. The Day Court had to find a way to protect itself from the High Court, along with a way to fight the army from Hybern. Potential ally’s, armies, and treaties were drawn up and tossed out over and over.

In the end, the courts worked together to take down the bigger threat. Helion would never truly welcome Rhysand into his court, but it was decided Hybern was dangerous enough to overshadow any other current issues. When the way with Hybern ended, Prythian successful, things did not go to plan in the Night Court.

Rhysand had returned triumphant, expecting his soldiers to come with him. Instead, a surprising number of Illyrian’s approached Cassian after the battle, asking to follow him here. The General had been taken aback, certain that none of them even liked him. It turned out there was a large group who held him in the highest regard, and would rather abdicate from the Night Court than live there without him. Helion had been pleased at the new soldiers, thankful to them for strengthening his own armies. Even Mor and Amren ended up coming, apologetic that it took them so long to see the truth of Rhysand’s wrongs.

The Night Courts reputation was already one of darkness and dismay, but somehow it managed to get worse. Once the kind citizens in Velaris had found out what Rhysand did, many came to the Day Court as well. The ones who remained showed no love to their High Lord or Lady. The cushy, beautiful life Rhysand had with you crumbled out from under his feet. Feyre may be the High Lady, but she was seen as the sad excuse of a replacement for you.

In the Day Court, you thrived. Helion had given you an advisor spot within his closest circle, allowing you to be an active part in decisions. Azriel and Cassian fell perfectly into their predetermined positions. Cassian trained the Day Court armies with a strength you hadn’t seen from him in decades, and Azriel was often gone on missions for Helion. You reconnected with Lucien, the two of you often teasing your mate and his brother. You knew that everything you had gone through, all of the terrible games Rhysand played, had been worth it.

All of it had been worth it to end up here, laughing on one of the lush white couches in the palaces sitting room. Azriel was by your side, arm wrapped around your shoulders. The loose white shirt he wore glowed against his golden skin, his eyes bright as he spoke to Lucien. Cassian held a drink in his hand, the lighter colors of his Day wardrobe making him even more handsome. You sighed happily, leaning onto Azriel as you took in your friends, your family. Your hand came down to rest on your growing stomach, feeling the happy babe kick against you.

All is fair in love and loss.

***

Here it is! The end of Love and Loss!! This story got so much more love than I anticipated, and I hope this ending was what you all wanted. I’m a sucker for a happily ever after, and I felt like our favorite little trio is finally happy and at peace. Please let me know what you think and THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU to everyone who supported and followed along on this journey. I love you guys ❤️

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[hbyrde36]

STWG Drabble 9/19/23

Prompt: “We’re not family”

“We’re not family!” Dustin spit the words in Steve’s face, looming over his hospital bed with a scowl.

Steve's heart sank. Oh no, not Dustin too. “But, you said I was like a brother to you.”

“Maybe at one point you were, but then you let Eddie die. How could you possibly think things could ever be the same after that?”

Had he done that? Was Eddie dead, and was it somehow his fault? He couldn’t remember, it must have been the pain meds clouding his mind. No wonder the kid was so upset.

“I’m sorry, Dustin, I'm so sorry. You know I would have done anything to save him if I could have. Please, you have to know that.” Steve begged. He had so few people in his life that really cared about him, and his heart was breaking at the thought that he’d ruined things with his pseudo little brother. He’d already been disowned by his parents after he didn’t get into college, what more could he take?

“You know what I think?” Dustin began, with a most unpleasant smile on his face. “I think you wanted him to die. I think you were so jealous of him, so afraid that he was going to take me away from ,that you’d do anything to get him out of the picture.”

“No, NO! That’s not true. I liked Eddie! I cared about him! I swear! Why would you…why are you saying these things to me?” Steve cried.

Dustin scoffed. “You're lucky I'm even standing here right now. What good are you to me like this? To us? Bedridden and broken. You can’t even protect these kids you supposedly love now. You’re worthless, Steve. Might as well throw in the towel.”

Steve tried desperately not to fall apart, but what reason did he have to hold himself together now if even Dustin didn't want anything to do with him anymore?

That’s when he heard a familiar voice start screaming his name in the distance. Nancy. She was calling out to him but it sounded like she was a million miles away. Suddenly, he realized that nothing around him made sense. He shouldn’t be in the hospital, and what had Dustin just said about Eddie? Eddie was fine the last time Steve saw him, not ten minutes ago! The last thing he remembered was climbing the stairs to the attic in the Creel house. Robin had just tripped over a vine, he was trying to get to her to help when another one had wrapped itself around his throat. 

“You know she’s only trying to save you out of guilt, Steve. She doesn’t love you, she doesn’t even like you.” Dustin-not-Dustin said, his voice dropping lower with every word spoken. 

Vecna.

Steve jumped out of the bed on the opposite side and ran for the door. He threw it open and sprinted down the hall. The hospital was a ghost town, which he figured made sense considering none of this was real. 

He looked around as he ran, desperate to find a way out. Max had described a portal opening up when she���d escaped Vecna’s clutches in the graveyard, but she’d had the music to guide her then. He knew neither he, Robin, or Nancy had brought a walkman with them into the Upside-Down. 

He kept running anyway, desperate to get as much space between himself and Vecna as possible while he tried to think. He wondered what had happened with Max. Had he not taken the bait, or was Max… already dead? 

The thought made him want to give up. To just lie down on the floor, curl up in a little ball, and let that bastard take him too, but Robin would never forgive him if he gave up now. He pushed on, rushing past empty room, after empty room, finding nothing helpful or useful.

The feeling of hopelessness became overwhelming but just when he was again considering admitting defeat, the world around him dissolved and he was plunged into darkness. 

He woke with a gasp in Robin’s arms. She was rocking him, tears spilling down her face.

“Oh my god, Steve, you’re back!” She cried, squeezing him tightly.

“Where’s Nance?” He asked.

“She’s up in the attic finishing Vecna off. When we couldn’t wake you, we went up there to start the attack, hoping it would force him to let you go. Nancy thinks he was trying to get you and Max at the same time, and it left him too distracted and vulnerable. We got him Steve, it’s over.”

He sagged in relief. Vecna was dead. He was okay, it sounded like Max probably was too. That’s when he remembered what Dustin/Vecna had said about Eddie, and his blood ran cold.

Steve pushed himself out of Robin’s arms and to his feet, quickly grabbing his axe from where it had fallen. He flew down the stairs taking them two at a time and praying he wasn’t too late.

“Where are you going?” Robin shouted at his back.

He paused for only a second to explain. “I think Eddie and Dustin are in trouble, wait here for Nance and meet me back at the trailer!”

-

He found Eddie kneeling on the ground surrounded by dozens of dead demobats. His spear and shield had been tossed to the ground. He was breathing heavily, hands pressed tightly to a wound on his side. He was hurt, he was bleeding, but he was alive. 

Steve started stripping out of his jacket as he approached. He tugged the t-shirt over his head and ripped it, trying to create bandages the same way Nancy had. 

Eddie stared up at him with wide eyes. “Am I dead?”

“No.”

Steve pulled Eddie's hands away from the wound and pulled the shirt up so he could get a better look at it. It was pretty bad, but it wasn’t gushing. If they wrapped it tight, and got him to a hospital quickly, Eddie would be just fine. 

“Are you sure? Because the way you just stripped out of those clothes for me is definitely making me feel like I've died and gone to heaven, big boy.”

Steve blushed hard. It was just the blood-loss, he reasoned. Eddie didn’t know what he was saying, so he ignored it.

“You’re gonna be fine, Eddie. Hold that shirt up for me so I can wrap this.”

Eddie did as he was asked, but his gaze never wavered from Steve’s chest. He was pretty sure he even caught the other boy licking his lips at one point, and it definitely didn’t cause warmth to start pooling in his stomach. 

Steve fought hard to concentrate on his work, but he had a feeling that as soon as this was over he was going to need an emergency bathroom floor meeting with Robin.

[the-slasher-files]

PLEASE DONT TAKE MY SUNSHINE AWAY

JOHNNY "SOAP" MACTAVISH FT. SIMON "GHOST" RILEY

Ok yall, here is the fic that fixes it lol. Ignoring canon with a passion and throwing this in it. Also im very obsessed with the sunshine nickname lol. Warning: heavy angst, inaccurate medical, soap almost dying... hope you enjoy 🔪🤍

MASTERLIST

The lump in your throat hadn't ceased since you received that phone call hours ago. Hands shaking, you packed an overnight bag that had become more Johnny's things than your own. He would need his favourite body wash- the one that would finally ease him as the sand flowed away. Johnny would want that stupid hair gel you had gotten as a sample. He said it made his mohawk withstand the Scotland wind and rain like no other. Your smile curled as a tear fell down your cheek when you piled in his favourite hoodie- "Y'know I've had this since I was 21, if I ever lose it, a piece of me will die, Bonnie" His thick fingers pulled slightly on the drawstring. Cobalt blues shifted from the SAS logo to your eyes with all the love in the world. He was your world, and all you could do was wait.

"Love," Ghost's timber trembled over the plane engines, "We are transferring him to Glasgow now-"

"T-tell me..." Your breath caught with a deep inhale as you tried to form a sentence, anything. "Tell me he'll be ok"

You were met with silence for a few beats before a sigh shook on the other end of the line. It held your shattering hope.

"Just- P-Please wait for me to text you with the details, okay?"

"Si-"

"Okay?" His voice was harsh with a grunt becoming the cold Liuentent, giving you the order to follow knowing just how much it hurt. He didn't mean to- he would never mean to.

"Okay..."

Rushing into the hospital, you saw him there. Shrouded in black under the blinding white, standing outside a door with arms folded and brown eyes lined red, looking into the abyss that was nothing. Lost somewhere in his mind, your voice broke him away. "Ghost!"

Like a shield, he became almost robotic in nature, functioning on fumes and fight or flight, protecting himself in and out— He couldn't lose the best man he's ever had. This was his fault and he could still feel the blood on his hands, the reak of copper, and the bits of brain matter that wanted to force their way out, only to be stopped by a dead man's hands.

Hollow eyes met yours, quickly looking away to look beyond you, not wanting to face the love of Johnny's life in this circumstance. It was like he didn't know you, pushing it all down even though Simon had become something of a brother to Johnny and a brother-in-law to you. You placed a gentle hand on his broad shoulder.

"He's stable, outta surgery, and sleeping. He won't wake for a while. " He breathed methodically, reaching out a gloveless hand to have you take Johnny's shining tags with a sick stomach. He left out the part where the doctor said that anything could happen. 'Stable for now' 'the swelling is a concern'

Sliding your hand down to meet his, the metal clicked between your shaking fingers, almost dropping them until Ghost curled your fingers delicately around the cold steel.

Your voice was barely above a whisper as you tried it out, "C-can I go see him?"

Simon nodded, still unable to see your pleading face as he turned the door knob allowing you inside. Adrenaline shuffled your feet inside the dimly lit room with Simon slowly slipping in behind you, an arm outreached in case your knees gave out, which they threatened to do.

Your eyes adjusted to the dark. Only one lamp and several monitors illuminated the small space. Lighting up Johnny's tan features; Swollen and bruised, his head was propped up on white pillows that had been stained with his blood before the guaze was changed. Mohawk obscured in white wrapping and blue eyes held shut, one starting to leak bruises beneath the soft lashes that lay on his under eye. You were unsure how your body carried to you to your husband's side, but your fingers carefully lingered, hesitant to touch, to break what had already been. After moments of hovering and your breathing held, your fingers lightly grazed the dark stuble on his strong jaw. Eyes flashing everywhere they could to gather and collect an inventory of what you could fix.

"Si— Simon, help me get him c-cleaned up." You sniffled, hands fluttering around each bandage looking for anything that you do. Pulling down the light sheet, taking in the scrapes and discoloration on Johnny's expansive chest, your breath increasing with each inhale— Panic setting it.

"I-I have to," you studdered, feeling a large body begin to pull your body away softly. "Simon. I—Help me clean him up, please—He, he has blood on hi—him, I"

"Love." Caring and warm hands turned you towards him, feeling your panic and trembling frame within his grasp. He knew too well what ran in your head.

"Simon, please. He's—He needs"

"Ssshhhh, I know, love..." Simon tucked your head against his chest, "I know... I'm sorry"

The flood came in your eyes, spilling onto Simon's hoodie as you began to sob. Months apart, promises, future endeavors, memories, and seeing a man so full of life laid out helpless made you break. "Ghost, he— Johnny needs to come home. He promised me, " You whined, gripping and beating on Simon as he stood still, hushing you with brown eyes firm on his brothers body.

Both of you lost track of how long you held each other in the dark. Just the sounds of slow, steady beeps, rain on the windows and soft breathing filled the space until a nurse came in. Without a word, the masked man grabbed a chair for you, placing it beside Johnny's bed and he hovered over the nurse intently. Every touch, every breath was protected.

"He is doing well so far. The body just needs time," The nurse spoke softly with a sympathetic smile, nodding to both before making her way into the labyrinth that was the hospital. And Simon followed, taking your keys to give you a moment alone and for him to get the bag you packed.

Your body released a sigh, one that you felt had been stuck for hours inside your burning lungs. It was just you and your husband. 8 months. Way too long without the love of your life by your side.

Whispering his name, you smiled with silent tears streaming your flushed cheeks. Grapsing his large hand in yours, it looked so small, even now with his fingers twitching slightly but muscles lax. Tracing every scar and vein, you picked away at the dirt lightly as you watched Johnny's face. So peaceful, calm under the bruises and bandages, the world seemed to cease to exist around you as you took in every twitch, every sweet inhale and breathy exhale. You were just thankful for him to be alive, to hold on just a little longer so the time would come, if it had, to hold him as you did.

You recall the memories gazed into pure azure pools, the room painted in honey as the morning sun graced you both in tangled sheets. His lips floated on your soft skin, the delicate nips to your collar bone left breathy moans falling from pouted lips. Promises he made to you as he worshipped "I'll always make it home to you." "I'm gonna be 'ere to protect you" "Never worry about me. I will fight to always be next to you"

"Come on, sunshine... Please" You pleaded to any god that was listening as you traced his knuckles with gentle kisses, tears following in the path.

"I'm 'ere." Blue eyes met yours with his signature smile.

[lokisgoodgirl]

The Avengers Expo: Clandestine F*cks [Avenger!Loki x Fem.Reader] 18+

Part of the Clandestine F*cks Collection [Link] A link to my regular Masterlist is HERE Summary: (12) It's the biggest event in the Avenger's calendar - you and Loki can keep your hands off each other for one night. Right?Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI. Language. Smut. Semi-Public Sex. Mild Angst. Mutual pining. Mild Jealousy. Secret relationship. (w/c 3.4k)

There was a soft knock at door. You muted the TV, walking over while fastening a final curler to your scalp. You pulled it open to reveal Loki, wearing a tight sweater and an apologetic smile.

You frowned. He never came to this floor.

God, he was so perfect. So brazen. How you wanted to pull him inside, push him on the sofa and mount him. You would ride him mercilessly, pulling the syllables of your name from his wet lips like a mantra. Or maybe you would suck him until he begged for release. Until he couldn't remember what day it was. Until he couldn't remember his own name.

"Can I help you, Laufeyson?" you announced loudly, hoping the formality would be convincing to anyone within earshot in the busy corridor.

"Stark has requested I remind all team members of details pertaining to the event this evening" he said coyly, a smirk playing on his lips, "in person."

You felt a giggle rising in your throat. Stark and Rogers were really wielding his looming evaluation like an axe.

"I presume you shall be in attendance? 7pm sharp for those involved with the display." Loki purred, his hand drawing towards the fluffy cotton tight to your waist. You felt the pressure of his fingers on your body before brushing them reluctantly away, noting the frown that ghosted his eyes. You nodded with a lingering smile.

One more day. You just needed to keep your hands off each other for one more day.

"Excellent" he murmured, before noticing something over your shoulder. "What in the nine hels is that?"

You glanced in the direction of his stare, seeing your outfit for tonight hanging against the living room door. "It's for the event" you winked, "do you like it?"

Loki's eyed widened in disbelief, checking the corridor to his sides as agents came and went from their rooms. "You mean to tell me you intend to circulate Stark’s gala tonight wearing that little dress and nothing more?"

You smirked, enjoying watching the wheels of jealousy whirring. "Don't worry Loki, I'll have shoes too..." you said lightly. He opened his mouth and closed it again.

"I'll see you tonight!" you quipped, before shutting the door on his muffled sounds of protestation.

Tonight was the most important event in the Avenger's media calendar, a chance to dazzle and charm the politicians and glitterati of New York and beyond. The whole team would be out in force; dressed to the nines, ready to mingle and primed to appear in tomorrow's headlines. One day. Just one day.

It had never been more important that your clandestine relationship...whatever it was, with Loki remained secret under the glare of the world's media. And yet, you couldn't help yourself.

You looked up at the dress hanging against the door-frame. A floor length skirt swished gently beneath your touch, the chiffon of the wide thigh split dragging between your fingertips. The bodice that had so inflamed your secret lover hung perfectly, strapless goddess style edging cutting down to a deep, stiff V that spliced down your sternum. It was sinful, and it was blood red. Tonight, you fully intended to knock them dead.

-

Loki regarded himself in the full-length mirror, frowning as he straightened his tie. The crown jewel of Stark’s superfluous Avenger’s Expo was a runway of sorts where it was deemed necessary to parade the team to a backdrop of thumping midgardian music. He cursed inwardly at the simplicity of his ensemble for this grand occasion. Apparently, his fine Asgardian leather did not fit the ‘vibe’, whatever that meant. “Need I remind you, brother, that your evaluation is tomorrow…” Thor’s spoke with warning lacing his words, watching his brother grimace. “Thank you. I am aware.” Loki spat, “As if I could forget, with the number of ridiculous duties I have been assigned these past weeks.” Thor nodded knowingly, squeezing Loki’s shoulder. “Tonight is a celebration, brother. A chance to show Stark, Rogers...the world, that you are truly no longer a threat. You are one of us.” Thor smiled broadly as Loki’s bored gaze swept his reflection. “Indeed.” he muttered, thinking of that sliver of red material you intended to parade about in. Every pair of eyes in the room would be on you...on that incredible body he knew every inch of. Intimately. Not only that, images captured would be circulated throughout this realm. The thought made Loki’s cock twitch with seething jealously. Between event preparation and the inane duties prescribed by his overlords, Loki hadn't had the opportunity to fuck you in two days. Two and a half, actually. In that time, he had edged himself more times than he cared to count. His cock was screaming to feel your tight, hot walls squeezing around his length. To hear you moan his name wantonly against the pillow, trying to silence yourself. To claim you again and again with his prowess; pleasuring you relentlessly as he took his fill. “Shall we?” Thor boomed, his tie still hanging loose around his neck. Loki nodded with a sigh. Showtime. Thirty minutes later, he was lined up with the rest of the male Avengers backstage in one of the city’s prime event halls. The buzz of a heaving crowd simmered beyond the curtains of the stage as a well-heeled Steve paced up and down the line, inspecting them. Loki rolled his eyes as Rogers brushed an imperceptible flaw from Clint’s shoulder, turning to Bucky with a judgemental look before the winter soldier frantically smoothed his hair. “You all know from dress rehearsal that the ladies come first” Steve began, as Bucky turned to Loki with a wink. “As always, right man?” he murmured, as Rogers frowned with disapproval, folding his arms before continuing. “You're placed in order, so Lang you’re first up after Natasha and Y/N take their places in the line-up. Then Banner, Vision, Wilson, Barton, Barnes, Odinson, Laufeyson...followed by myself and Stark for the speeches. Got it fellas?”

Everyone nodded grimly. They just wanted this to be over. From the other side of the stage, Loki heard a hysterical peal of laughter that was unmistakably yours, feeling his heart leap at the sound. The now-familiar ACDC song Stark had selected blared through the speakers, Back in Black; was it? Loki didn’t know how many times he’d been forced to listen to that infernal song during rehearsals. But this was the last time, and he intended it to be memorable. Steve stood with his clipboard as the opening bars thumped with Tony’s voice-over. Welcome to the stage...your Avengers. The list of names began with Natasha as she appeared to rapturous applause. Wanda followed, and then you.

Loki inhaled deeply as he heard cheers accompany your entrance, whistles of appreciation rolling through the crowd as Stark’s open bar made feeble mortal men brave. He seethed, quietly. Loki watched as one by one, the team ahead of him disappeared; their solemn grimaces giving way to practised smiles of joy and appreciation as they waved at the call of their name; pointing to the crowd. This was ridiculous, Loki thought. But a necessary evil in this strange realm, it seemed. “Loki Laufeyson” He rolled his shoulders as the bright lights grew closer, striding to the middle of the stage and turning with a flourish. To Loki’s surprise, there was not empty silence. A thundering of applause greeted him as his complimentary biography rumbled over the heavy guitar. In the last six months, Laufeyson has completed twenty-one highly volatile missions protecting our planet and our people, saving countless lives Loki found his eyes drawn towards you as the cheers grew louder at the words. There you were, poised and indescribably beautiful.

You were clapping with the others, your leg positioned seductively through a high slit in that little dress that went right to the top of your delicious thigh. He was going to bury his face under that slit, later. That little dress positively demanded to be fucked with you still wrapped inside it. The strapless bodice clung to you like glue, perfectly fitted to your sinful curves. The skin of your décolletage glowed in the theatrical lighting; your breasts nestled at either side of the most daring neckline Loki had ever seen across the realms. Gods, you were perfection. Well, almost perfection. Asgardian finesse, expert-combat, sorcery, great hair...our man in leather. Our newest addition. Let’s hear it for the dark-god in our Avenger’s line up. Loki internally rolled his eyes, waving to the darkened, cheering crowd as he squinted under the lights and paced towards his spot on the line-up. Come on, he thought. There was always one. “Show us some magic, Loki!” a disembodied voice screamed from the crowd. Loki smiled, seeing Rogers shake his head frantically behind the curtain. He spread his arms in a half-shrug towards the crowd, palms upward as he teased them. He always teased them. More shouts of encouragement soared loudly over the music before he snapped his fingers with gravitas.

In a dramatic wave of seidr, the crowd screamed with delight as your vibrant red dress transformed to an exquisite emerald green from the floor upward, bathed in flickering flame. Loki saw the flash of your eyes as he smirked, giving a curt bow to the screaming crowd as he stepped back to take his place in line. Rogers and Stark circled in front of the formation, enjoying their own applause as they geared up for the speeches. He used the moment to cast you a look, catching your eye. Green looked good on you. Now you were true perfection. – The next hours spent mingling were some of the longest of Loki’s life. He would gladly suffer through a one-to-one car polishing masterclass from Rogers to free himself from this hel. Midgard politicians, Loki surmised, were even more tedious than those on Asgard. No mean feat. Leaning against the bar, Loki’s eyes scanned the crowd. He found you, his stomach dropping as he saw you wrapped in the arms of an unknown man. Tall, handsome, dark...seems that the vixen has a type, Loki thought. A stab of jealously twisted in his gut as he swallowed his scotch in one gulp. Rogers had likely asked you to dance with this interloper...but still, this needed to end.

A thick hand slapped across his chest. “Brother, you were phenomenal. A triumph! It’s all anyone is talking about!” Thor boomed through laughter, his voice resonating above the thumping music. Loki frowned, shaking his head as he tried to convey his confusion. “The dress, brother! Y/N’s dress. Rogers is of course, furious, but the high praises you are receiving will surely balance out any misgivings he may have over your disobedience, I am certain.”

Loki nodded, making jumbled excuses to his brother before crossing the dancefloor with his jaw set, fire rising in his heart. The man’s hand was lowering down the exposed skin of your shoulders, his eyes trailing your cleavage. He was whispering in your ear, causing you to throw your head back with laughter, your coiffured curls bouncing. The scoundrel’s hand slid lower, threatening to cup that exquisite ass. “Pardon me” Loki murmured, placing a firm grip on the stranger’s shoulder. He squeezed. Hard. “May I?” he intonated menacingly with a forced smile, tilting his head towards you as the man’s brow furrowed. Loki ignored his mumblings, pushing him briskly away before sliding to take his rightful place flush against your body.

Your hand nestled in his palm, his other lightly encircling your waist, breasts tight to his chest as you began to dance. Loki enjoyed the reluctant smile of enjoyment which twitched at the corners of your lips, the thrill of contact under the cover of believability a welcome surprise. “I liked the red, you know…” you said loudly, straining to be heard against the music. Loki chuckled, his eyes crinkling. Gods, you were funny. You pressed your fingers against Loki’s shoulders, pulling him down slightly to meet your lips at the base of his ear, “but I like the green better.”

Loki’s stomach flipped. The low pulse of bass radiated through his chest as you slid a hand down his torso, releasing a devastatingly low moan deep in his ear. “Darling…” he whispered, “be careful.” His eyes flickered to a photographer circling Thor doing jaegerbombs with the mayor a few meters away. He could feel his cock hardening against his thigh, his arousal tight against the expensive suit. One picture in an overly affectionate embrace is all it would take, and he might lose you forever. He removed his cheek from yours, gazing at you questioningly. “I do not understand you, Y/N” he murmured, the level of his velvet tones barely audible over the din as he swayed you back and forth. “Would it be so against your sensibilities for those around us to know you’re mine?” Your heart pounded. Mine. There was that word again. You had thought a lot about what happened in the restaurant over the past few days, his words re-playing over and over in your mind. You couldn’t recall which were real and which were fiction created by your desperate imagination. “It’s more complicated than that, Loki” you mumbled pleadingly, brow creasing as you willed him to understand. He would tire of you. The attention and intrusion would be too much. His pleasure came from mischief and games, not domesticity. You would gladly play with him, for as long as his attentions lasted – even if it meant a broken heart. “Is it?” From what I can see, I’m good enough to pleasure you in secret but the idea of anyone being party to that fact makes your skin crawl. What more is there to say?” he muttered with a forced smile, watching your eyes widen in alarm. You pressed your lips together. “Follow me in two minutes” you said, turning before he could speak. You noticed Megan circling nearby, glancing at Loki every few seconds as she ran her hands over a confused Scott Lang.

The green chiffon of your dress fluttered around your ankles as you paced towards the side of the stage, slipping behind it away from the buzzing crowds. Loki followed soon after, still wearing that frown. It hadn’t even been a minute. The door barely had time to swing shut before you were upon him, your tongue ravenously sliding between his lips as he gasped in surprise before pushing you gently against the wall. The air was electric, quiet moans of relief escaping you as his hands ran over your curves; mapping you beneath him. “I can’t do this anymore, darling…” he murmured between messy kisses, the words barely registering in your frantic desperation. Loki's palm slid graspingly up the slit of your dress, bringing your leg to rest on his hip. His fingers found their way between your thighs, massaging your clit gently as your head fell back against the wall, his name on your lips.

“What do you want from me?” he whispered, the low embers of his voice radiating against the roll of hundreds of conversations mere feet away. Your eyes opened, finding his as those long fingers slid inside you. “I want you, Loki…” you whispered. Your hands fumbled with his suit trousers, desperate to feel the velvet pillar of flesh you craved beneath your hand as it strained for your touch. “That little dress…” he chuckled reluctantly in spite of himself, “you knew I would not be able to resist you tonight. That man. Such dangerous games pet, you put even I to shame...” You shrugged lightly, a coy smile lighting up your face. He gasped as his cock was freed, your fingers curling needily around the thick girth. Like a tube of cookie dough. You giggled beneath him before his free hand gently covered your mouth. One more day. You couldn't manage one more day. “Need I remind you of our little agreement?” he muttered darkly, thrusting his palm upwards as his soaked knuckles rubbed against your entrance. Your eyes fluttered shut as you shook your head beneath his palm. “No secrets” he murmured, withdrawing his fingers slowly from your core, “we are beside a stage, after all...should you renege on our bargain.” He brought his fingers to his lips, sucking the mess of arousal from them as your hips keened against his hard body. God, you needed him so badly. Always so badly. He removed his hand from your mouth and lifted you effortlessly, the long green chiffon pooling around your hips as you wound your legs around his waist. A pulley rope grazed your cheek, the wide-open stage curtains to your side throwing light in the otherwise darkened space. Loki’s perfect cock filled you as you let out a choked sigh, a low growl of approval radiating from your lover as he bottomed out. “No secrets, Loki" you groaned, as he thrust slowly into you, "it works both ways”. The movements were deep and contained. Tender, despite the circumstances. He chuckled through a quiet moan of pleasure, “Alright…” he murmured against your skin, his lips ghosting against the fine hairs of your cheek. “I need you to be mine, darling. That is my confession. I need it. I need you.” There was no sound but Loki's low primal groans as you tried to process his unexpected words between searing waves of bliss, his cock dragging across the ridges of your tight channel. “But I am yours, Loki” you moaned to the ceiling a little too loudly, feeling his hand creep once more across your jaw. “No, pet. You m-misunderstand me", the firm tone of his voice wavering under his tight thrusts against your mound, “I wish for us to be exclusive, as you say.” Your stomach soared, a wave of fire and nerves rolling up your body as his words ignited dynamite between your legs. You clenched against his cock, a deep hiss escaping Loki’s lips as he tightened the grip of his hand. “Quietly, darling…” he sighed, pulling your ass closer to his hips as he re-angled himself. You felt yourself beginning to climax with every edge of his muscle, his pelvis tugging your clit with every devastatingly slow thrust.

Loki's hand fell from your mouth and grasped the edge of the curtains hanging to the side. His hair had fallen from its preened setting, errant strands dancing seductively around his cheekbones and across his brow as he fucked you against the stage wall. “Darling, answer me…” he growled, the darkness of his tone betraying his coming crescendo.

“No more cruel teasing. No more questioning. No more jealous games...I am l-laying...ohhhh, gods...my intentions at your feet. I wish you to be mine, and I y-yours. If that is not acceptable then I cannot c-continue...this, this...fuck.” You raised your hands from his shoulders, cupping his sharp jawline; the angles fitting perfectly into the curve of your palms. “Loki” you murmured, kissing him deeply as his breaths drew short, his slow thrusts erratic, “Answer me…” he growled, feeling your walls tighten and ripple with climax as he buried inside you. Your legs tightened, drawing him close as you both spiralled, foreheads pressed together as you fought to contain your cries to the party beyond. Loki’s fingers tightened around the skirts of your dress, tugging mercilessly as he filled you with his seed. Low grunts vibrated against your ear, the effort of containing his animalistic moans making him shake. A loud rip tore between you as a strand of emerald fabric fluttered to the ground, turning red mid-flight. Deep exhales filled the space as Loki’s gaze fluttered upwards to meet yours tentatively. “Answer me, darling” he whispered between staggered breaths, pressing your back against the wall. Your head swirled, his eyes were so beautiful. Were you going to...surely not- “I love you, Loki...” you whispered shakily, feeling as though you had jumped from a great height. Falling through the air. Waiting to hit the ground. His brow furrowed, lowering you to the floor. He pulled up his zipper, turning to gracefully pick up the ripped red chiffon tear, running it thoughtfully through his fingers. “Are you sure you are not mistaken?” he murmured, as the material turned once more to deepest emerald green. You felt your chest tighten as he raised his gaze to yours. You nodded slowly, watching his eyes narrow. “Good.” he muttered, re-attaching the fabric to your dress with a flick of his wrist before descending. His hand clasped to the back of your head, absorbing you. Wet kisses rained with new force as his full strength bore down like a tropical storm. Your breath hitched as he surfaced for air, wildness firing in his eyes as he clasped your jaw between his large palms. “I love you, Y/N” he murmured through heavy pants, “desperately...my precious mortal.” He pulled your face to him again, his lips and tongue and teeth claiming you like it was the last time. Your heart was thundering, senses overloaded under the weight of longing confession as you melted together, forgetting the world beyond the curtains. Neither of you heard the side-door creak open. Neither of you heard the sound of a low gasp from the doorway. It went unnoticed, a ghost, as the door shut again with a soft click

- A/N: The next part of this collection is absolute filth :) just FYI. Tags @lokischambermaid @lady-rose-moon @thedistractedagglomeration @lokiprompts @mochie85 @vbecker10 @michelleleewise @ficitve-sl0th @filthyhiddles @evelyn-kingsley @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @xorpsbane @yelkmelk @toozmanykids @dangertoozmanykids101 @mischief2sarawr @mad4marvelloki @mcufan72 @imalovernotahater @wheredafandomat @holymultiplefandomsbatman @five-miles-over @handsaroundmyneck @lyn-soso @123forgottherest @anonymousfiction211 @skymoonandstardust @muddyorbs @simplyholl @homesickcassie @gigglingtigger @ozymdias @xorpsbane @ravenwings73 @itsybitchylittlewitchy @lokikissesmyforehead @ladylovesloki @ravenwings73 @loopsisloops @amethyst-dow @nerdy-fangirl-65 @lonesomegrace @chantsdemarins @peaches1958 @trickster-maiden @absentmindeduniverse

[kerubimcrepin]

Live-read: The Wheel of Destiny #8, Kerubim.

You can find this article on the Dofus MMO's site, by simply googling it.

A bit of context: this is an article, from the series called "Wheel of Destiny," which focuses on small character studies of various ecaflip characters from the World of Twelve. I won't be doing all of them, just the ones that interest me.

It is my decision to start with this in particular, because of the relatively small size of the article, to test out this... reading liveblogs thing. I hope it goes well, and isn't too boring.

I hate Eca so much it's unreal, just so you know.

To make it more obvious which parts are me, and which parts are the article, while you're skimming the post, I turned on my computer's night mode for making screenshots.

...My sincerest apologies to tumblr's dark mode users, though. I'm sure this is a nightmare for you.

And this is what I was talking about in the previous posts, where I said that, canonically, Kerubim's friendship with Bashi started before the Quest of Two Mornings in Episode 3, Strich Hunt.

Very sad to disappoint, but there does not actually seem to be a Croc Ness monster in the Dofus MMO.

Yet another confirmation of the temple being situated in Amakna. (Besides my own geographical estimations while watching the show, and it literally being there in the Dofus MMO.)

It's a long ass way between the temple, and the swamp, but it is realistically doable for two kids, especially if they have a carriage. (Which Kerubim, being the guy responsible for feeding Ecaflip, does have access too.)

"Five-Cat Monte" is a reference to "Three-Card Monte" which is a real thing.

Glad to know Bashi is also very normal and sane as a kid. Also, very glad that older kids, who give lessons, react to things like this by essentially going "Sure, go die I guess."

God, they are so fucking stupid. Anyway, they are talking about some real landmarks here, all of which are also around Amakna, and seem to be pretty accurate to the in-game geography.

...It feels nice to be right.

...I suppose that, despite its faults, the orphan temple actually gives a shit about its disciples not dying. Color me surprised? Eh, I'm mostly joking. It would be very weird if they didn't.

I will spoil things ahead for you: Ecaflip used magic to make Kerubim look like Atcham.

Bashi's reaction to Atcham being "AAAAH NOT THAT FUCKING CREEPY KID AGAIN 😨". The way he pretty much says, "a ghost?? NO. SOMETHING SCARIER. YOUR WEIRD FUCKING BROTHER."

It all implies., So much. It implies so much. I'm still not over it.

Pictured: my vision of how Bashi reacted to Atcham, when Kerubim (against his will, unwillingly, and deeply embarrassed) was forced to introduce them to one another.

I like to think that before they began to hate one another, Kerubim's relationship with Atcham was similar to what he had with Patafiks. Except instead of copying him, Atcham would, idk. Threaten to kill himself if he got any friend other than him? Threaten to kill his friends?

Something insane and jealousy-based like that.

I may be that guy who's very critical of Kerubim, and constantly going "Atcham's sad implied backstory this, Atcham's sad implied backstory that," but you don't get reactions like that by simply being extremely bullied.

You get reactions like that by being That Heavily Bullied Kid With 20 Mental Illnesses Who Attacks People With Sharp Objects.

Pictured: my rough theory of whatever the fuck happened between Kerubim and Atcham in the orphanage.

It is a funny image... that quickly wraps around back to being sad, once you think about little orphan Atcham, who people fucking hate for being a bingus, who has nobody except for his equally-orphaned brother (who doesn't look weird, can actually make friends, and leave him alone, if he wants to. Which he does.) and how at such a young age he got desperate enough to resort to what seems to be violence to protect himself.

Which got him absolutely no help. And also made people look down on him even further.

I think the funniest part of it all is that Atcham as an adult has:

1. The knowledge that hating Kerubim is literally not productive and a weird fucking coping mechanism.

Yet he keeps doing that.

2. A sort of moral compass that's all about protecting and respecting those in the same shit situation as him. (Even if they insult him. He hates that, but he's mature enough to uh.... just shave people against their will about it.)

While Kerubim is like. Still struggling with even saying that he doesn't even hate his brother. Somehow, he's the more emotionally constipated one.

So normal of them.

Anyway,

I think here we can see a bit of the internal growth Kerubim has had, from the time when he was a child, to adulthood.

Joris cannot picture Kerubim being ashamed, or disgusted, by Atcham, despite this article showing him doing exactly that.

It is the reason why I think one of the factors that contributed to Kerubim adopting, and keeping, Joris, was his guilt over whatever Atcham went through, despite how much he likes to say that he doesn't like Atcham.

Joris is different from other kids: small, weird, probably bald. And in any other situation, it's likely he'd develop a complex about it, except his dialogue in the movie specifically implies that Kerubim has put in conscious parenting effort into preventing exactly that.

While it's obvious that Kerubim loves Joris, there are many flaws in his parenting. So him putting a petabyte worth of effort and research into one single aspect of it is... very telling.

Now for a bit of a reach/headcanon: Who's to say that the reason Joris doesn't have many friends, is not Kerubim trying to isolate him from any potential source of shame or trauma? This part, as I've said, is purely speculation/headcanon — but it is an interesting thought.

And Atcham, who was there, and experienced shit like this from Kerubim, is still swayed by Joris's words.

What I think happened between them is that Kerubim, who yearns for societal approval, is afraid of being like Atcham, who is often ostracized and disliked by people for his looks. Besides this, I think Atcham, who was Going Through Horrors, was clingy.

For these reasons, he pushed Atcham away, and it is this betrayal, coupled with Kerubim's advantages in the form of not looking weird and being Ecaflip's favorite, that made Atcham fucking detest him.

What it all means is that Joris isn't necessarily wrong: Kerubim wouldn't hurt Atcham (at least, not unless it's self defense), and what he did was just... trying to save his own skin as kid.

Which isn't exactly malicious.

And I guess Atcham agrees with Joris on Kerubim's incapability of doing harm to him on purpose. Otherwise, he would never be convinced to change his mind.

There is probably a reason for why Kerubim would rather live in a forest, than go back to the temple looking like Atcham. And as I've said, I don't think it's a happy one.

Now think about Atcham doing this his whole life and get sad. Like I just did.

I think that, of all the things, it's most disgusting that whatever happened to Kerubim and Atcham was happening under the watch of Ecaflip, and perhaps even because of him.

I wouldn't put it past him to orchestrate their hatred for each other for fun. Or because he wanted Kerubim all alone, to himself.

I also find it interesting, the way Ecaflip says "once more" here. Implies that it used to be a normal thing for him. I suppose my guesses of Kerubim being disliked by other kids due to Atcham may have some merit.

And god, it makes me so, so sad.

He cares enough to intervene when Kerubim is about to die, which goes against his own rules, but not when it's about his kids' life being fucking awful.

...Maybe Oropo was right.

Do we know if Ecaflip's emotions are even genuine? He is the narrator of this story, after all, and he could be lying. He puts Kerubim in danger many times. Many. Just for fun and his own amusement.

I will take Ecaflip's narration as a straight-forward one, — that he really is feeling these things, but it still reads as manipulation, even if he is doing it for "Kerubim's sake". He's not a good father and never will be one, and these are very cruel lessons.

I will be real, their relationship disgusts me to my heart <3 Amen.

And now we know why Kerubim is... like that. And why his parenting is so overbearingly sweet, controlling, and obsessed with making sure Joris knows he adores him and adores him back.

Perhaps, despite everything, Atcham was the luckier one for not having Ecaflip's "love" the way Kerubim did, but honestly, I feel both of them had it equally shitty.

A true "would you rather sit on an anthill or sit on a cactus" choice.

[snowywinterevenings]

I’m working on the last chapter of Scars on Our Hearts, so I thought I’d throw this on tumblr. I know I’ve posted it before, but tumblr’s search function is a disaster, and I can’t find it, so here it is again, a glimpse into one of the many worlds Obi-Wan stopped in before getting to the one in the story.

The ghost follows them for three days, and Obi-Wan waits for it to show itself, more curious than anything about the visitor to whom he feels a strange connection. Their shadow is filled with such infinite sadness that it makes something in Obi-Wan’s own chest ache, pain so sharp that he cannot even begin to fathom its cause. He does not hunt for the ghost, sensing no ill will from him, but the love and devotion he feels bent in Cody’s direction makes him a bit uneasy.

The intruder makes his move while Obi-Wan is away one night dealing with some absurd emergency. He ends the meeting with an abrupt resolution for the matter and speeds home, ready to tear their unwanted guest to pieces, but he is met with the most unlikely scene imaginable, his own double seated on the edge of the bed beside Cody who is sound asleep. There are differences between them, his counterpart’s hair cropped short along the sides and worn longer on top, his form a touch thinner as though he doesn’t always remember to eat, and a blade that is similar but not identical to Obi-Wan’s own, at his waist. The most obvious difference is his attire, more that of a Jedi than an emperor, though darker in color than the Jedi favor.

“A few moments more please.” It is strange to hear his voice from the lips of another, but he hums, granting the ghost his request, knowing deep in his soul that no version of him could harm his sleeping heart.

He would agree to nearly anything to soothe the ache he feels in the Force.

When the ghost eventually stands, he whispers, “sleep well, my heart,” and champagne gold eyes wet with grief finally meet his own. The words have been said before in a much different context, and Obi-Wan knows now what has caused such pain. He has a hundred questions, but he leads his counterpart into another room in silence and settles him into a chair, drawing a blanket around his shoulders. He doesn’t know whether it would have been a kindness or a cruelty to leave him watching over Cody while he disappeared to make tea, but some of the grief has ebbed away by the time he returns.

“Forgive me. It was not my intention to disturb your peace, but… you reminded me so very much of us.”

“What are you?”

“A traveler.” It is not a terribly satisfying answer, but Obi-Wan supposes it’s easier to admit than calling himself a broken ghost. “I move between realities. I have seen so many now, but this is the only one where I have encountered someone like me.”

“Someone fallen.” It does not surprise him to know that the Obi-Wans of other realms live more often in the light. Even he clings to it each night.

His other half nods, thumb tracing over the lip of his tea cup, clutching it tightly in his hands as though he is attempting to leech the warmth from it like he has not been warm in years. Perhaps he has not with his Cody lost to him somewhere along the way.

“How long ago?”

“Three years.” The end of the war then. A little shiver winds down his spine as he recalls their discovery of the chips. “He spared me from death at the hands of his brothers.”

“Did you burn your galaxy to ash?”

“It is not what he would have wanted.”

“I doubt he would have wanted this for you either.” He nearly offers their home as a place for the ghost to rest, but he has never been very good at sharing, and he does not think it would truly ease the pain. His haunted other half must find and make his own peace.

“Keep him close.”

“Always.”

The ghost leaves, vanishing into the night, and Obi-Wan takes up his vigil, watching over Cody as he sleeps. He joins him eventually, holding him close, and he hopes that someday the ghost can do the same, that he finds the lost love for whom he has been searching.

[ipromiseimlying-blog1]

Excerpt from my fic: "The Soul Burns Brighter Than The Sun" (on ao3)

Dean musters up the courage and finally opens his mouth, “What would it be like?”

Dean internally cringes at how choked up his voice sounds, but he asks it anyway because he’s a piece of shit who likes to have his cake and taste it without eating it at all. He’s a coward, but he’s a coward who wishes he wasn’t.

“What would what be like?” Cas asks. 

“You and me.”

Cas takes a second to respond, and Dean scrubs at the casserole dish with his sponge like he’s not waiting for world-shattering news. 

“It would be good.” Cas finally says, voice confident and scared at the same time. “It would be right.”

“How so?” Dean asks. 

The sound of Cas’s footsteps tell Dean that the angel is waking over, but slowly. So slowly like he’s worried he’ll startle Dean into running away. They come to a halt just behind where Dean’s washing the dishes, elbows in the suds, fingers pruned from the water. He can feel the few feet of space between them like a physical ache. 

“It wouldn’t be any different,” Cas says, like it’s the simplest thing in the world, to love. “Than how we are right now. Nothing would change.” 

“What the hell does that mean?” Dean whispers, his voice weak. 

“It means…” Cas starts. “I’d be there for you when you wake up, and I’d be there for you during your nightmares, making sure that none dare to haunt you. We’ll go on hunts whenever you want and take care of them together. We’ll watch movies in your room or in the Dean Cave.” Dean hears the twitch in Cas’s lips as they turn to a small smile. “Maybe even go for long walks on the beach.”

Dean snorts, but it comes out choked. He doesn’t know what to say so he scrubs the casserole dish. 

“If nothing changed physically between us, I’d be content. But I’d love to kiss you when you asked me to, make love to you when you ask for it, and–-” Cas’s voice drops, but Dean knows it’s not for effect, it’s just the way the words leave Cas’s mouth that make them darker. “Fuck you when you need me to.”

Dean inhales sharply, and continues washing the dish he’s holding. “That’s a lot, Cas.”

He hears a soft shifting of clothing, likely a shrug, something human that Cas has picked up from Dean. “I used to try not to… fantasize about things that could never happen, but I’ve realized it might be a lot closer than I think, and I’d like to be prepared.”

“Buddy, it’s not–”

“Is it?” Cas says, and there’s two more step falls and then he’s pressed along Dean’s back, not hard, just there. One of Cas’s hands grips the counter with–-what Dean thinks–-is enough force to dent it, but his other hand is gentle against Dean’s hip. 

Dean’s hands stutter over the dish, and he almost drops it. “It’s not happening man. I–It can’t.”

Cas hums, and Dean feels his breath ghost over his neck, feels the sound reverberate in Cas’s chest against his back. “Tell me to stop then.” 

Stop, Dean thinks. Don’t stop. Never stop touching me. I can’t take it when you leave.

“Cas–” His hands shake, and he puts the dish down in the sink so he won’t break it. The glass clatters against the metal of the sink bottom and Dean raises his eyes to the ceiling. “We can’t.”

“Give me a reason.” 

“It wouldn’t work. We drive each other crazy, and I can’t–you can’t leave. I can’t take it when you do.”

“Then I won’t leave.”

Dean wants to laugh. He feels six years old again, begging their dad to stay a little longer with them while Sammy’s sick, because Dean gets grossed out when he has to clean up his brother’s puke.

It’s time to grow up, Dean. John had said. You know why I need to go. Pick up the slack while I’m gone.

He feels like his twenty-two year old self, seeing Sam’s Stanford acceptance letter, knowing there’s nothing he can do to make him stay. Watching John grow red, to blue, to purple in the face, screaming and yelling at Sammy. You walk out that door there, don’t bother coming back.

At the time, Dean didn’t know if he was gonna see Sam again, so he drove his kid brother to the bus station. Sam had always been the soft one, talking back and not following John’s orders, and Dean sat there in silence as Sam pretended he wasn’t tearing up. 

Dean had watched his little brother walk away, seeing the duffle bag filled with clothes and weapons and books that looked too heavy for him to carry. Sammy! Dean yelled. 

Sam had turned, his eyes rimmed with red. 

Dean charged him and wrapped him in a bear hug. Watch out for yourself, bitch.

Sam choked out a laugh, holding on tight, hands balled into fists against Dean’s back, holding him there like he didn’t know if he’d ever get a hug like this again. Jerk. 

Dean’s always had people leave him, and he’s always let them go. 

“You say that, Cas, but you’re always leaving.” Dean chokes. Cas is warm where he’s pressed against Dean’s back, and Dean can’t help himself as he leans into the feeling.

Cas’s thumb rubs against Dean’s hip, at the denim and flannel wrapped around his body. “You’ve never asked me to stay before.”

“I wanted to–” Dean rushes out like word vomit, like the truth he’s been meaning to say for years. “I should’ve.” 

“Ask me then.” 

“No, you asshole.”

“I’m not leaving, Dean, so long as you want me here.”

“I–”

But then Cas kisses his shoulder, and Dean’s whole body is lit on fire by the simple press of skin to the cotton of his flanneled shoulder. 

“So the first problem is negated, I won’t leave. Problem solved.” Cas continues their conversation like he never interrupted it by kissing Dean’s shoulder in the first place. In fact, Dean doesn’t think he’s ever been kissed on his shoulder before. Before he can shove that thought away, his brain wraps its arms around the feeling of Cas behind him, his lips pressing to Dean’s clothed skin, and files it away for safekeeping. “What are the other reasons?” 

Dean knows there are more reasons, but goddamn he can’t think of any. Cas is warm against his back, and Cas’s chin rests on Dean’s shoulder, right over where he kissed it. 

“Uhm,” Dean’s brain helpfully supplies. It’s too busy cradling it’s new favorite memory close to his chest. “You’re a guy.” 

“Hmm. How much of a problem is that?”

Not very much, Dean’s dick supplies. Dean tells his dick to shut up. 

“It’s a problem.” Is what he says instead. 

Cas doesn’t miss a beat though. “I could be in a female vessel if you prefer, although I’ve grown so fond of this one. It feels more like my body than anything else has.”

And that breaks Dean’s heart because Cas has lived through millennia, seen continents move and civilizations come and go, but this body, the one that Dean stabbed when they first met, is the one that Cas feels at home in. 

“No.” Dean interjects. “I don’t want you to have a different vessel.”

Cas presses his lips to Dean’s shoulder again, not a kiss though, this time, Dean feels Cas’s lips spread into a shy smile. “So how much of a problem is it, then?”

“It’s–it’s not.”

Cas hums, and the hand resting against Dean’s hip skates upward and under Dean’s shirt, just touching the warm skin there, like Cas is stealing whatever he can get away with. “Alright, so what else?”

Dean’s brain grasps at straws. He had a list. Where the hell is it?

“We drive each other crazy.” Dean blurts out. “And you listen to shitty music.”

“Ah, right. You did mention that we drive each other crazy.” Cas murmurs, and he leans forward so that his lips whisper against Dean’s ear, and goosebumps spread along Dean’s skin. “Think about how that would translate into sex, then.”

Dean swallows. 

“As for the music.” Cas continues. “I think I can come up with ways to make it up to you.”

And then Cas fucking kisses his neck, right below Dean’s ear, on his pulse point like a bullseye. Like maybe Cas was scouting that spot out for a while. Like maybe Cas fantasized about doing exactly that. Like maybe Dean kinda wanted him to do it too, because Dean’s lit up from head to toe like a fucking teenager from one little kiss on the neck from his best friend. 

Dean audibly gasps, and he feels Cas smile against his neck. Cas’s hand presses more firmly against Dean’s ribs, the very ribs Cas rebuilt and then carved sigils into. 

“Don’t think that I didn’t notice–” Cas says huskily. “That not one of your reasons was that you don’t return my feelings.” 

Cas’s hand leaves his skin, and there’s a shocking wash of cold, as if somebody’s dumped an ice bucket on his back once Cas steps away from him and walks out of the kitchen. 

Dean stands there for five whole minutes, his heart racing and breathing hard until he calms down enough to close his eyes and relax. He picks up the casserole dish and finishes washing it. 

[staycalmandhugaclone]

I'm counting this as my response to @chopper-base's Last Line Challenge (your fic looks like it's going to break my heart, btw, and I need it), as well as @rosechi (you take all the time you need - those few lines have certainly garnered my interest, and I am happy to wait for what you're creating!) and @ladyzirkonia's (what a taste little teaser that was!!) Wednesday WIP tags.

Given that I'm using this for both challenges, I am shamelessly offering a large chunk. Because. Reasons. Also, this one's both super exciting and super complicated!! One of my Asks was for this group, @clone-force-333, who, apparently, go about "attacking" certain people on here with words of encouragement when they need them most, which is just fucking adorable! It also means the characters they gave me are both OCs, so there's been so, so much chatting to figure out how to portray these guys! This is going to be a painful one, but it's actually super fun to get to play with such wildly new peoples! They both had such heartbreaking stories, and I'm really hoping to do them justice.

K, here's what I have so far:

Despite the wealth of foreign planets he’d been to, the incalculable variety of life forms he’d seen and ecosystems that had proven just as deadly as they were beautiful, still Ghost occasionally found himself stunned by what mysteries awaited him just beyond the metal doors of the transport shuttle. There had been no war here; no endless theft of lives tallied as fiscal loses in the stead of fatalities as fallen brothers left crimson rivers staining soil that ignorantly devoured the nutrients with a gratitude far more potent than the Republic had ever feigned pretense of.

This world was untouched by intelligent life; innocent and brilliant and ultimately doomed as the Empire steadily made their way ever closer that they might strip the wilds of every shred of value until only a barren husk remained. That was why they had come; because the treasured that laid hidden in shimmering sapphire foliage streaked with something far too near silver to appear real held the potential to solve whatever great scientific mystery Dex currently found himself obsessed with.

Dex…

Ghost’s dark grey helmet shifted slightly, attention drawn back to the slim man already treading animatedly toward the distant dance of singing trees and hidden brush. Even from a distance, he could hear the subtle whirr of machinery voicing the scientist’s every step. It had taken months for him to offer the origins of his disability. Ghost wasn’t sure what prompted the reveal, nor why he’d taken so long to open up, but nothing about the injury had changed things between them. The older clone still regarded the nat-born with a deep-seated distrust and disdain despite Dex’s almost obtrusively joyful demeanor.

The change between them had been sudden. Violent. He couldn’t remember exactly what the smaller man had said; just that it had something to do with the chips, and that Ghost had lashed out in a way that finally shattered Dex’s infallible exuberance. They’d shouted. It was the first time he’d heard such betrayed anger in that normally soft voice. They’d roared at each other until both shook with anger, fists clenched, teeth bared. And then something had changed.

Heated words crumbled into broken sobs revealing truths neither expected to ever allow voice. He didn’t remember who’d been the first to reach out for the other, couldn’t remember how they’d fallen into each other in search of a comfort they’d suffered without for far too long, but everything between them was different now. Snide words were laced with a fondness audible to even distant strangers; the silence between them as Ghost merely lingered calmly in Dex’s lab held a gentleness he’d never felt before, and when the scientist got it in his head that he needed some unheard of ingredient found only in the most dangerous of climates, the clone didn’t hesitate in accompanying him.

Which is precisely how he’d found himself on this unnamed, untouched world of sapphire trees and mauve soil, gaze trailing around them for any sign of danger, be it from flora or fauna, that might threaten the brilliant, infuriating man before him.

Taglist: @thrawns-babygirl @echos-girlfriend @starqueensthings @youreababboon @merkitty49 - yall can choose if you want to do the WIP or the Last Line <3

[eyes-of-mischief]

weekly fic recs | 41

fandoms: bsd, dc, hp, svsss, tgcf

bsd

A Game of Chance by freefan1412

Instead of following Oda himself, Dazai arranges for his life to be saved by making a call to someone who has the means. That has consequences, chief among them that he could not have handed Mori a better card against him if he tired.

dc

Brother Wanted by Vamillepudding

Well-behaved boy (10) is looking for big brother (11-15). Must meet up with me three times a week, for at least two hours each. Overall duties include helping me with homework, playing videogames with me, and showing me how to play catch. 10$ per hour.

Tim, lonely and in desperate need of company, decides that if his parents are not going to give him a sibling, he's going to hire one instead. Luckily, Jason Todd-Wayne shows up in the nick of time.

hp

family and other wonders by resonance_and_d

Harry was supposed to pick- move on and be with his parents, or go back to finish the battle with Voldemort. But even Dumbledore doesn't know everything, and Harry finds that there are actually a lot more options than those two.

Harry wants more than what he got. He wants a home. He wants a family. He wants a chance to be happy. He isn't sure he deserves all that, but he's going to try anyway. If only to spite Dumbledore and Voldemort's plans both.

OR: Harry Potter wakes up ten years old but with all of his memories from age seventeen. He immediately begins to make Mistakes.

my head is bloody, but unbowed by NorthernRanger

Once again, she lifted the spell, and the wizard behind him moved forward. He reached down and took hold of Harry’s arm, pulling his shaking body up and twisting his arm behind him. “We should take him to the Dark Lord,” he said, and Harry’s heart beat wildly. Voldemort was dead. The war had ended. What was going on?

Ouroboros by NovusArs

(mature) (graphic depictions of violence)

Salazar Slytherin woke up in the body of a three-year-old boy with the most ridiculous head of black hair & a runic scar carved into his forehead. The last thing he recalled was dying. Now it is over 900 years in the future. There are a million things to deal with between new inventions, lost knowledge, missing spirits, & parasitic dark lords.

svsss

hey. by Nomette

(explicit)

After a strange artifact transports Shen Qingqiu to a world where the Peak Lords are demons, he is captured by Demon Lord Liu Qingge of the Burning Valley. Demon romance ensues, and Shen Qingqiu is forced to confront the fact that maybe he didn't know his world's Liu Qingge as well as he thought he did.

take me home, bury me there by nyoomerr

(mature) (graphic depictions of violence)

When Shen Qingqiu transmigrates, he finds himself in a world where heartbreak can make a person fall apart - literally, since those who are heartbroken crack open starting from the space over their heart, and only cultivators can survive the blood loss by using their qi to hold their blood inside their bodies where it belongs.

Having a physical indicator like this that alerts Shen Qingqiu in real time of the hearts he's breaking... well, it changes things.

Luo Binghe, somehow, still ends up suffering more than Shen Qingqiu ever wants him too.

tgcf

Something Foreknown by crowdedcafe

E-ming is born with a hole in his heart and an emptiness in his soul. Through centuries of hearing stories about Hua Cheng's beloved, E-ming grows to love the man he was born missing.

Whoops, I Almost Killed You Again 天官赐苦，鬼拂🈲️忌 by TentativeWanderer 

As if on cue, the silver chain snapped for no reason whatsoever. Xie Lian startled and attempted to catch it as it fell, but a burst of bad luck ensured that it slipped through his fingers and went tumbling merrily down the slope. Catch me, come catch me, the ring winked in the sunlight. Naturally, Xie Lian attempted to do so. Naturally, he stubbed his toe on a root, toppled over, and rolled down the hill in hot, uncontrollable pursuit of the ring.

For a ghost, giving your ashes to a loved one is a high-risk decision. Giving your ashes to the God of Disaster is a tremendously high-risk decision.

Hua Cheng is the most qualified being to make that decision. And, as Xie Lian discovers, a Ghost King does not do take-backsies.

💍🔪💍☄️💍☠️💍⚠️💍🎭💍☢️

[thelustybraavosimaid]

Dragonstone was a place of wonders.

Tall and grand, with numerous dragons carved into the towers, claws wreathed in stone flames, their mouths opened in a grimace. Some held torches in quiet solace, others stood tall and proud, others still kept their eyes on the gates, silent watchers. Enormous wings and tails formed entrances to the grand doors, led to seemingly endless stairs ascending to the top of towers, Jon watched them all.

There were other creatures, too—basilisks, demons and griffins, wyverns and minotaurs, among many more. He stared at them a little longer before three live dragons caught his attention as they let out a cry, circling around their home in grandeur.

There was only one on dragonback, and Jon squinted his eyes and shielded his gaze from the sun to spot the rider. Her pale hair flowed loose and long, flying upwards as she descended. The dragons, in unison, let out an earth-shattering scream. He stepped back, uneasy.

Can they smell fear? Jon asked himself. Not much scared him anymore, though. He had experienced death itself and lived to tell the tale, but though he had wished for dragons, he hadn't actually...expected to see any.

He took another step back, giving wide berth for their great wingspans, trying to keep his face as passive as possible.

"In time for your coming," she smiled as she jumped down from the largest of the three, unruly and scaled black-and-red. His eyes reminded Jon of Ghost, molten crimson pits that shone when the sun caught them in the right moment.

"Indeed, Your Grace," he gave a courteous bow. You are a welcome sight. The young queen was as lovely as men have said, her with the blood of Old Valyria. She was dressed in riding breeches and a flowing top in the colours of her House, the shoulders covered in mock dragonscales.

The dragon she rode the back of gave another roar before he spread his wings and took to the skies. The cream-and-gold one followed suit, the force of their heavy wings kicking up dust and loose grass, leaving only dragged imprints of their claws in the soil.

"Look," she motioned behind him. Her violet gaze fell upon an immense dragon that basked in the rays of the sun. He was curled as if in rest, but his eyes were open and he stared, pools of burnished bronze fixed on Jon as if they were trying to peer into his very soul.

There was something familiar about him, though he had never seen him before.

"This one is Rhaegal." She scratched him under the chin, but still the dragon stared at Jon. "Come closer, Your Grace. Have my word that he will not harm you."

He did as he was bid.

"Reach out your hand and let him catch your scent."

Jon pulled off the glove of his burned sword hand and spread his fingers apart, spying Daenerys' eyes lingering on his scars. The great wyrm extended his neck to rest his snout against Jon's palm, smoke from his nostrils as his huff warmed the king's hand almost uncomfortably.

Rhaegal leaned back, giving a growl of approval before returning his head to the grassy ground, and Jon gave a flex of his hand.

Her hand was back on the dragon, running over his armoured flesh before finding an empty space between his limbs, sitting down.

"He's named after my older brother, Rhaegar," there was a sadness touching her once-jovial voice. "Ser Barristan tells me men all over the Seven Kingdoms loved him."

Her brother.

He had heard of him, of course. He had supped with and learned from the armourer who forged the weapon that crushed the life from him. Lord Eddard Stark would not speak of him, no more than he had of his mother, but he had heard good things of him.

Does she think of what could have been, if her brother had lived? He wondered. He thought of her flying in the sky, seeing the world in a way few else ever would, thinking it invigorating...but lonely. Does she imagine him riding beside her?

Does she take strength and inspiration from his memory, as I once had The Young Dragon? As I do mine own family?

Jon wondered for the first time of what the long-gone man was like, the crown prince. He was curious to know if he was anything like the dragon queen. He wondered what his lord father's sister, the Lady Lyanna was like.

He wondered a great many things.

He shook his head—it doesn't matter now, he chided himself. They were gone, and all that was left was the two of them, encased by a wing and a giant tail of a dragon. A breeze blew through his hair, locks floating effortlessly in the wind. He put his glove back on, plopping down beside the queen.

"I have never seen him behave that way before. Rhaegal seems to be quite taken with you," the little queen smiled, running her hand over the side of his belly, stopping at a horn that claimed the space between the two of them. "Dragons may be lonely without a rider. Are you here to claim him for yourself, brave King in the North?"

Claim him?

That was not something he had pondered. Jon stood again, careful to step over the smooth black claws sharpened to natural blades.

The grey of Jon's eyes found the dragon's bronze and held it for a moment, then he found Dany's, a slow smile brightening his long face.

"No, Your Grace," he let his smile widen, his joy flavouring his words. "I'm here to claim your hand."

Her head bumped the side of Rhaegal's body as she threw her head back to laugh. "Is that so!" Her giggle died down. "I shall grant your request, bold king," the grin was still plastered on her face as her voice dropped to tease, full lips tinged with secrets untold, "but only if you take Rhaegal to the skies."

--

Inspired by [this post] by @tatticstudio55, it's such a beautiful piece of art that I couldn't resist 🥰

[helaelaemond]

50 Helaemond Kisses

day 9 - in public

Helaena is crowned queen, and Aemond must show his loyalty.

Helaena looked into her mother's eyes as she placed the crown of Rhaenys upon her brow. A crown of steel and sapphire, wrought in the age of the conqueror, it sat heavily on her. At her side, Aegon watched on.

"My queen," Mother said quietly, and after a moment, she sank to her knees in a deep curtsey. Behind her, Ser Criston, Grandfather, and the rest of the Small Council looked over them. Aemond was stood to one side, and the sight of his one eye on her was like flame on flesh.

She stood with her back to the enormous crowd gathered in the dragonpit, and Aegon moved to stand in front of her when Mother rose. "My queen," he murmured stiffly. Without a smile, without warmth, he pressed his cheek against hers in the illusion of a kiss. Her lips twitched nervously. Then came Cole, who knelt before her and kissed her hand, swearing his loyalty to her. Of course he would, he always would, and so he said. Grandfather followed, although his knees were too stiff to kneel. He bent over her hand and she looked at the age-marked skin on the back of his neck. He would be dead soon, perhaps.

"My queen," he echoed. "I pledge my life to the service of you and our king, from now until my last day."

"Grandfather," she said softly.

"Don't cry," he whispered as he straightened up. "The world is watching."

She swallowed. She nodded once. At her side, Aegon cleared his throat. The masses behind them watched curiously. And then came Aemond One-Eye. He walked smoothly and with purpose, a slight swagger in his steps, and his bots echoed on the raised dais. Confidence oozed from him. It always did.

Locking eyes with his brother, he sank onto one knee and swore his life to Aegon. Helaena watched intensely and she tried to commit every word to memory. As soon as the words were spoken, though, they were lost to the wind. Perhaps in the wars to come, it would be better that way. Let the promises be forgotten. Promises would not save her.

But when he stood in front of her, it felt like they might.

"Aemond," she breathed. Her lips barely moved.

"My queen."

His hair looked so pretty in the dusky light of the dragonpit. He wore a fine leather overcoat with buckles in the shapes of dragons, all in black. Blackfyre. No, not like Blackfyre, for Blackfyre had a certain gleam to it. Aemond was all shadow before her, smoky and thick, impossible to grasp. Dark was his eye when he beheld his sister.

"Aemond," she whispered again. For what she was begging, she did not know. But something, anything. For him to save her.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, but no words came. Memories of last night danced before her eyes, and a smile flashed across her face for a brief moment. Yes, last night. When you held me and kissed me and found your place in my arms, between my legs. When my thighs were your crown, my name was your prayer. My Aemond, my beloved.

Perhaps the thoughts were in his mind, too. When he sank again to his knee, he looked up at her with a reverence that was familiar. How often had he been on his knees before? Countless. She offered her hand cautiously, and he took it without hesitation. Lips ghosted across her knuckles, and for a moment all too brief, they pressed against her skin. The touch sent heat rushing through her like wildfire, green and bright and dangerous. Her eyes closed.

They were still closed when he stood and kissed her cheek, too. No one else had done that but Aegon. The kiss was too close to her mouth, just at the corner. If it had not been so frightening, she might have turned her head to kiss him better. But thousands of eyes were on them, and Mother was watching. Helaena forced herself to open her eyes and when she did, the corners of her vision were blurry.

"Don't leave me," she breathed almost silently.

His eye before into her like there was no world beyond the two of them. He shook his head ever so slightly. "Never."

A lie. But a lie she needed to hear.

[not-very-kawaii-of-you]

welllllll, boys, I'll declare it official

the love of my life is ghosting me for over two weeks. I've been sending memes and personal queries to start conversations for ever, GMs and "would u love me if I was a waffle?" and yet, I get visualizations, the blue checks assured me he was there listening, but maybe couldn't respond immediately and somehow forgot, but 2 weeks is no time to ignore

I actually somehow lost the man, I WILL NEVER LOVE AGAIN, (I think to myself) because out of years of trying to find someone, nobody was ever connecting to me, until this Florida man came here and became the person I wanted to meet my whole life and didn't even knew. He diagnosed me with autism, he understood a lot about me, and we spoke about several things we had in common and several things we disagreed about. He told me I had "too many opinions", that's the wildest way someone ever described me. I loved sharing the world of Ghibli movies with him, and even making love in between porco rosso scenes, sorry Hayao Miyazaki. What we had for the past year was really special, it took over 22 years to find you, and it may take 23 more years to find another one like you.

I will never forget your blue eyes and your funny smile, I miss hugging you and cooking for you. I'll miss talking to you more than anything. I understand why he would give up on me, he expected to see me shortly, but I'm a messy bitch, my family is bankrupt, I'm a broke ass gen z working my life out of minimum wage, the embassy won't ever accept my visa because my brother is in trouble with the law (at least in the next 2-3-5 years), and he won't come back so soon to my country, he has a job, a house to pay, and finances to manage, neither of us has easy lives and getting in love with me was trouble. I may never bother with the hardships of life because all I do is "it is what it is" my way out of misery and just be happy with dyre things even though I still persist. He may not be so patient like me after all. I am sorry I couldn't visit you so soon, I promised I would come and I still haven't given up on that promise. Maybe you won't be there to allow me in your house, but I'll try anyway.

@sweet-home-augustine, sorry for forcing you to make a tumblr, I know you don't give a shit, you were the only person in the world I shared my social media because I wanted you to see more of me. I hope I can see you one day, since you never said goodbye to me I won't say it for now. And I promise I won't cry since that was everything you didn't want from me after leaving my city and returning to your country.

[rose-red-ink]

Intro Post

Hi there, I'm rose-red-ink, but you can call me Inky! I'm a writer, and a lover of all things nerdy. I'm also an elementary teacher, so I reblog education stuff occasionally. Feel free to drop into my dms or asks if you want to chat about fandom, fic, or anything else!

This is a writing blog where I write lots of things including anime and Star Wars fic, as well as original projects. I'll be dropping links to them and dropping a short summary below. Enjoy your stay, and again, I always enjoy asks and engagement! Come talk to me (I don't bite I promise)

Original Works

My Original WIP is tagged with #theartemiscovenant or #theartemisproject or just #TAC. I don't have a lot of it posted, but I'm happy to chat about it whenever.

It's an urban fantasy thriller about faith, trauma, familial love, and working through your mental illness to become a better person. The protagonist is the holder of the Artemis Covenant, Riley, and there are other "god" characters such as Hades, Persephone, Apollo, Hermes and Demeter, as well as other supernatural creatures like werewolves.

Fanfiction

Everything under here can be found on my A03

If you send in an ask for anything I write, I'd happily drop you a drabble. Just ask!

Star Wars

Force Mandated Bottle Episode (Sequels Rewrite, including Reylo) Ongoing, updated every Saturday

Related Web Weaving

When Finn and Poe escape from the First Order ship, Kylo Ren takes off after them. When both ships are damaged, they crash on Jakku, right into the Star Destroyer that Rey is scavenging from.

Finn is longing for freedom while unable to escape the thoughts of those he left behind. Poe is determined to be the most annoying hostage possible to his old surrogate brother. Kylo is trying to survive Poe while being plagued with curiosity; who is the woman he keeps hearing at the edges of his mind? And new powers are awakening in Rey, powers that seem to be the source of the visions of a strange man in black, exploring the same wreckage, just out of her reach.

Choices will be made, loyalties tested, and bonds forged. Where will they go when they emerge from the wreckage?

One Piece

Featherflower (Dracule Mihawk X OC) Completed

A Kuja named Teria is forced to leave Amazon Lily, and finds herself a home aboard the Red Force, working under the Red Haired Shanks. This puts her face to face with a mysterious swordsman several times. The two form a connection, and eventually, love blooms.

This one is done, but I still write mini fics for them as the inspo strikes.

The Punk and the Surgeon: Lawka (Trafalgar D. Water Law x OC) Ongoing

Law's ship needs repairs, and the only place to do so is said to be haunted. Instead of a ghost or spirit, he meets Aika; a stubborn, kind young woman who's doing her best to keep her family safe. Through a series of tragic circumstances, she finds her way onto his crew, and into his heart.

Cards and Pieces: Freyce (Portgas D. Ace x OC) Ongoing

In his time as captain of the Spade Pirates, Ace drunkenly stumbles across a young woman with a strong spirit, a need for connection, and a loyalty that burns brighter than the sun. She becomes his first mate, and stands by his side through everything.

Jujitsu Kaisen

Candy and Catastrophes (Bluebird) (Satoru Gojo x OC) Ongoing

Natori is wildly thrown into the world of jujitsu sorcery when her cursed technique manifests, leaving her confused and scared. Satoru Gojo steps in, promising to hide her identity from her clan and to give her a job at Jujitsu High, masquerading as a window. He gets more than he bargained for when attraction begins to stir between the two.

(This fic is focused on character development, fluff, and hurt/comfort. It will go off the course of canon for these reasons)