#* verse ╱ I’ll make up for all the years I was supposed to be loving you.

[zepskies]

Wake Me Up - Part 1

Pairing: Soldier Boy/Ben x F. Reader

Summary: A few weeks after you and Ben celebrate your first Christmas together, Ben is returning from another mission with the Supe Affairs team. When he discovers that you’ve been taken, he’ll do whatever it takes to find you. And then, to help you heal.

AN: Welcome back to the BMD-verse! Let me tell you, I’ve had this mini series outlined for months, but now I thought it was finally time to get to it. If you’re not tired of the Break Me Down world yet, I very much hope you enjoy Wake Me Up.

**As a reminder, this story is set shortly after Love Actually, and will contain references from that three-part story. 

Song Inspo: For this whole series it’s “I Can Read Your Mind” by the Doobie Brothers. (I pretty much listened to this on repeat.)

Word Count: 5.5K

Tags/Warnings: 18+ only. Starting off strong in this one: with mature themes, show level violence, angst, kidnapping, PTSD, mentions of torture (not too graphic), and character death.

💚 Wake Me Up Masterlist || Break Me Down Masterlist

Part 1: “Familiar Territory”

The start of a new year continued a steady rhythm for you and Ben. Namely, another successful mission for the Supe Affairs team.

While you were patched into the team’s communications line from the safety of your desk back at the S.A. headquarters in New York, your friends were a few states over in Denver, Colorado. They’d just arrested a supe that had been committing a series of bank robberies by literally slipping away from the police, thanks to his particular superpower.

“Somebody better get this shit off of me,” M.M. groused.

He wasn’t too happy about some questionable ooze this particular supe secreted as a defense mechanism. According to Frenchie’s research, it was the same shit that certain frogs could produce to repel predators.

“Need a good hose down, more like,” said Butcher. “You smell fuckin’ foul.”

“Like Satan’s ass crack,” Ben remarked.

You couldn’t hold back a snort of amusement.

“Let’s just get the fuck outta here,” M.M. said, his tone all surly, as per usual. You didn’t envy his plight.

“Good job, guys,” you said, to change the subject. “Now it’s just a short flight back to New York.”

“No layovers this time. I’m not being paid to rot in a fucking airport with a bunch of mouth-breathing assholes and their screaming brats,” Ben said.

Charming. You rolled your eyes, but a smile played on your lips when you imagined his taciturn face.

“Okay, your majesty. I’ll make sure it’s a nonstop flight,” you said. “I’ll be waiting for you at home.”

That last bit, you said with a hint of more behind your words. You drummed your nails on your desk and crossed your legs underneath it. A week was a long time for you and your boyfriend to be apart, and you’d been missing him.

“You better be,” Ben said. His voice was deep and cocky. He was smirking, you were sure, and you knew that he’d understood you perfectly well.

“Anybody else hearing this blatant foreplay?” Hughie quipped.

“I sense cheeks will be cracked tonight,” Frenchie muttered.

“Ugh!” you heard Annie shudder.

You knew she supported you and Ben, but you also knew that she didn’t want to hear about the gushy details. You laughed through your embarrassment. 

“Okay, guys. I’ll see you all tomorrow,” you said, before you officially signed off. 

You grabbed your purse that was stowed away in a desk drawer, fished out your cell phone, and you called Ben’s cell. He picked up on the second ring.

“Yeah?” he said. 

“I love you,” you said with a smile. “Just wanted to make sure you knew that.”

“Mhmm,” he replied. “I’ll see you soon, baby doll.”

You pouted. “Come on, say it.”

“Say what?”

You sighed. You knew he was being deliberately obtuse.

“You know exactly what,” you replied.

Part of you was upset that he didn’t say it back as often as you liked. God forbid Butcher and the others hear him express his affection for you.

But you supposed you understood that any kind of vulnerability was difficult for him, especially in front of others. As much shit as you gave him, you also knew how to pick your battles with Ben.

“I told you. I’ll see you soon,” he said.

You once again tapped your nails, on your armrest this time. After a moment, you relented.

“Okay, baby. Have a safe flight,” you said, even if you were still frowning.

When Ben hung up with you, he let out a deep sigh.

An entire week with these juvenile cocksuckers was almost too much for him to fucking take. While he often felt your presence with you on the comm line during the actual mission, and the occasional phone call on long nights in between, it wasn’t the same. It wasn’t enough.

He was ready to go home.

The flight itself was fine, though dealing with civilians and the tiring experience of a long-ass flight made him even more antsy to land. Because even when they got to JFK, he still had a hired car waiting for him to drive him from the airport to get to Scarsdale, and to the apartment he shared with you. It had already been almost a year of you two living there, in a three-bedroom spanning two floors.

Ben hadn’t thought he would get used to such a small place, but it was all right. It had become his home, far more than the penthouses and party mansions ever were, at least.

When he finally got home and unlocked the front door of the apartment, he stepped into darkness. All the lights were off.

Odd, he thought. He called your name while he shut the door behind him, then flicked on the foyer light. He realized then that he hadn’t seen your car in the driveway. Were you still working? It wasn’t unlike you to get caught up with the paperwork and other logistics after a case.

After a quick look around of each room, from the kitchen to the living room, Ben knew you hadn’t come home yet. A frown marred his face.

He went upstairs and entered the bedroom next. He unclipped his wrist guards and took his gloves off first, followed by loosening the collar of his supe suit. The bed was made, untouched since this morning, he was sure.

Then he noticed the scrap of paper resting on his pillow. He picked it up, and his brows furrowed as he read.

By the time you find me, she’ll wish she was dead.

Ben called Grace Mallory first.

When she didn’t answer, he called Butcher next. Ben’s hand shook the slightest bit while holding the phone up to his ear.

“Evenin’, guv,” Butcher answered with a tired sigh. “What’s this about—”

“We have a fucking problem,” Ben growled.

Ben pushed the limits of his Mercedes Benz while driving himself to Supe Affairs.

The others met him there in a conference room, except for Grace, who was on an active case at the moment. There Hughie and Frenchie tapped into the S.A. security footage on their laptops. 

They eventually found you getting into your car in the S.A. garage, about four hours ago. Then two later, the street cameras picked you up somewhere in the Village. Ben recognized the street. 

You probably had dinner with your friend Yvette and her family, but you intended to make it home on time to meet Ben when you left around 9:00 p.m. 

You had parallel parked at a meter on the street. According to the footage, it looked quiet and empty when you headed back to your car. 

You were stopped by someone before you could get the driver’s side door open. It looked like a man’s height and build; he grabbed you by the shoulder and threw a punch you managed to dodge.

You put up a good fight, but you were eventually knocked out with what looked to be a crowbar, at first glance. When Hughie zoomed in, it was actually a black baton. Ben watched it all with a deepening frown. Anger churned in his gut and ignited his blood as he watched your unconscious body being hauled into a black SUV.

“That looks military-issued,” M.M. said, pointing at the baton that the suspect used to hit you.

Butcher nodded, and also noted the man’s fighting style. “That’s a professional.”

“He would have to be, to take her out,” M.M. said, glancing at Ben. “And the timing. They knew you were coming home. That note was personal, besides the fact that they were casing your place…they’ve probably been watching both of you, waiting for the chance to get the jump on you.”

“The question,” Butcher said, “is who the fuck would wanna tangle with Soldier Boy that badly?”   

“Shit. That’s a laundry list, isn’t it?” Hughie said. M.M.’s glance told him to shut the fuck up.

Ben was silent, but his fury was mounting. His head turned sharply to Butcher.

“Get Mallory on the line. Now,” he barked. When no one moved quick enough for him, his temper snapped at its thinly held leash.

“I said right fucking now!”

Slowly you blinked your eyes open. For a moment, you were seeing in double vision. It soon cleared up to reveal dark, damp, musty surroundings.

It smelled familiar; after that mission to find and subdue Sapphire a couple of months ago, you’d recognize a New York sewer anywhere.

Fuuucking shit, you thought with a groan. Your head was aching. You felt a trickle of blood down the side of your neck, and you found yourself in a familiar position—seated on a metal chair with your hands secured behind your back. Your restraints felt like zip ties.

“You finally with us, sweetheart?” asked a man. His voice was smooth and commanding.

“Jackson, I don’t know about this,” whispered someone else. Another man, though he sounded slightly younger, reminding you of Hughie.

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy,” Jackson snapped.

At least you had a name. He stepped into the light that came from a couple of small lanterns. One was propped on top of a bucket by the wall. The other was on a plastic fold out table that you saw a few feet beside you.

The man who stepped into your line of vision was tall, maybe around Ben’s height, if just shy of his build. He was blonde, just like his skinnier friend. They shared some notable facial features and coloring, but while Jackson’s eyes were dark brown and self-assured, the younger man’s were blue and apprehensive. If you had to guess, they looked like brothers.

“Nice digs,” you remarked, gesturing with your gaze at your surroundings.

Jackson rose a brow, crossing his arms.

“You’re taking all this pretty well,” he said. 

You huffed humorlessly.

“This isn’t exactly my first kidnapping,” you said.

He quirked his head and drew closer.   

“All right. Well, since we’re on the clock, let me tell you why you’re here,” he said. He bent down in front of you so that his face was level with yours. “I need you, sweetheart. You’re going to tell me how to bring down Soldier Boy. How to kill him. How to end him. Then maybe, I’ll let you go without gouging out those pretty eyes.”

You stared back at Jackson with an expression that didn’t change.

Then you spat in his face.

And you expected the hard, back-handed slap that made your head whip to the side. It rattled you for a moment as you caught your breath, but you recovered enough to lean back in your seat. Your eyes met Jackson’s directly after he wiped his face with his shirt. “Tommy” stood off to the side behind his partner. He’d looked away when you were hit.

You focused on the other man, Jackson. He was wearing black cargo pants to match his boots, and a belt with a gun on his hip. He carried himself like a trained killer.

“Military, government agency, or private sector?” you asked.

His head tilted. He studied you, just like you were studying him.

“None of the above really,” he said. “Not anymore.”

He walked over to the fold out table, where he grabbed a black bag and unzipped it. A flash of silver gleamed as he pulled out one sharp instrument after the next. You had to hide your apprehension, and fear that made your insides tremble.

He glanced over at you.

“Let’s get started,” he said.

Hours later, you were teetering on the edge of consciousness.

After the last hit, you spat a wad of phlegm and blood onto Jackson’s shoes. He rotated the ache out of his hand. He looked down at you through furrowed brows.

“Damn, bitch,” he said, catching his breath. “You can take a hit. I’ll give you that.” 

“My dad was a Marine, numb nuts,” you managed to reply, through labored breaths. “He used to hit harder with his open hand than all the strength in that limp-dick wrist of yours.” 

Jackson smirked. “Christ. Daddy issues, huh? Why doesn’t that surprise me.” 

You gave him a droll look. Again, to cover your fear, because you weren’t willing to give him the satisfaction of seeing it.

Angered and frustrated by that defiance, he reached down at grabbed your neck and jaw with one hand. You winced at the force of his grip, but when he started squeezing, this was the one thing that made you truly whimper. You tried not to think about the ghost of your father’s hand around your neck.

“Don’t you get it, asshole?” you gritted out while struggling for breath. “You can’t kill him. No one can. Stronger, smarter people than you have tried.” 

Moments ticked by while Jackson contemplated your words. 

Then he released you. You sucked in gulps of air and tried not to cough out a lung.

“Maybe,” he said. “But Soldier Boy’s got a weakness. If anyone knows it, I’ve got a feeling it’s you.” 

You can’t say anything. You can’t, you can’t, you can’t. 

That had been your mantra for every minute you had spent in this hole. You shook your head.

“Look, Jackson.” You sucked in another breath to steady yourself, and blink a drip of blood out of your eyes. “He’s going to kill you. You and your brother. Take your family and run, while you’ve still got a chance.” 

“…You know what? You’re probably right,” Jackson said, scratching the back of his head with his crimson-stained hand. “But I just realized something.”

He leaned down again, until he was level with your face.

“When he finds you, drowned in your own goddamn blood…I think the look on his face might just be enough for me.”

Your eyes widened. 

It took days. Three painful days to pick up the threads, which led closer to home than anyone could’ve anticipated. 

Grace Mallory put pressure across the chain of command, and even reached out to the FBI for assistance. An alert email finally came to her phone, and she realized that an agent on her own payroll had been flagged for never reporting back for his debriefing on a reconnaissance mission.

That agent was Jackson Rawlins.

The further she read into his file, the worse her frown became. She immediately sent the lead to Ben, Butcher, and the rest of the team to run down. For the first time in years, Grace actually prayed.

She prayed that they would reach you in time. It wasn’t until then that she realized it; she hadn’t thought of you as a cog in her system for some time now—not even as leverage against Soldier Boy. She was genuinely concerned about you.

Grace worried that she was setting herself up for disappointment…if it was too late. However, she also worried about what would happen if you didn’t survive. She considered how Ben might react, with that nuclear power within him that he was still learning to control. The consequences of this mission could very well be catastrophic. 

You were losing track of time in this windowless pit. You knew it had been days, but you didn’t remember how many. The cellar was cold, and the way sound and air traveled, it felt like you were underground. It certainly smelled like it—damp and gross. It made you certain this was a sewer.

Now this is Satan’s ass crack, you thought. You winced at the pain that radiated…pretty much everywhere. Blood had dried from various lacerations across your face, neck, chest, and arms, and bruises were dark against your skin.

Your blouse was in tatters, and your jeans had bleeding rips as well, though at least he’d kept your ankle boots on. You were too weak even for hunger. And a large, heavy chain attached to manacles on your wrists had replaced the zip ties. One end of the chain was fastened between the wall and a line of plumbing.

Footsteps echoed down the hall behind you. You closed your eyes and steeled yourself.

“Are we actually gonna have a conversation today?” Jackson asked.

“Depends,” you replied, your voice dry and coarse. “Are you going to tell me why you hate Ben so much?”

An angry sigh escaped Jackson’s lips. He pointed up in frustration.

“Ben.” Jackson rolled and cracked his neck, like just the mention of your boyfriend’s real name was disgusting to this man.

“You talk about him like he’s a real fucking person. Not like the animal supe he is,” he said.

“He is a person,” you said, both in exhaustion, and in pain. “And he’s trying to be better. Look, he’s done terrible things. I’m not saying he hasn’t. I don’t know what he’s done to you in the past, but—”

Jackson shut you up with a sharp backhand. It made black spots encroach on your vision as you caught your breath.

You noticed his brother Tom come in the room as well, to watch and worry. He didn’t seem comfortable with this way of things. He looked like a civilian. Maybe you could use that to your advantage…

But you lost track of thought after that, when Jackson started in on you with either his hands, or the creativity of the instruments on the table nearby. 

You tried to block out the pain, along with his questions about Ben. If you couldn’t talk about him, you couldn’t let yourself think about him. So you couldn’t say anything.

Not about the Novichok nerve agent, one of the few things that had been found to incapacitate him. Not his imprisonment by Vought or the S.A.—nothing that your captor could one day use against Ben.

You can’t. You can’t. You can’t.

Even though all you wanted right now was him. 

Ben, please…

You zoned in and out of consciousness from there.

When you next registered being awake, mercifully, you were left alone. You raised your head when Tom came to blot at least some of your wounds and give you water. You’d only eaten small pieces of protein bars for days. 

“I’m sorry,” Tom whispered.

“Why does he want Ben?” you wheezed. “Why are you going along with this if you’re so damn sorry?”

Tom looked up at you with pain and grief in his blue eyes. He sighed and dragged a nearby chair from the table. He sat beside you while he fed you half a protein bar. It was a struggle to even get the pieces down.

“Last year,” said Tom, clearing his throat. “I lived in the building that Soldier Boy blew up when he got back from…wherever the Russians had him.”

Your eyes widened as you processed that. “You…but you made it out. Why—”

“I wasn’t home. I was at work,” Tom said. His voice was pained as his eyes became red and glassy. “Our mom wasn’t so lucky.”

You sighed, closing your eyes.

“She was retired, and I was taking care of her,” Tom said. He wiped at his eyes and sniffed. “Jackson wasn’t here. He was on a mission in Colombia. Told me he was cleaning up some cartel shit.”

At that, you had a sneaking suspicion that coiled in your gut. Ben had left a bit of a mess when he peaced out of Colombia, with an entire plane filled with drugs and weapons from whatever cartel he’d infiltrated. (In his words, he’d cut the head off the snake.)

Grace told you she’d sent a team in to handle that mess…

“Your brother—who does he work for?” you asked. Though you had a feeling you knew the answer.

Tom seemed to read your understanding, and his face turned grim.

“The CIA,” he said.

Fuck, you grimaced. So not only had Ben been responsible for their mother’s death, but Jackson had been part of the team that cleaned up his mess in South America. It explained why Jackson was somehow able to find your information; Supe Affairs had become a subsect of the CIA, thanks to Grace. 

“I didn’t know he was planning this. I swear to God. All he said was that he had a way to get at Soldier Boy,” Tom said. You let out a deep breath.

“I’m sorry for your loss. I really am,” you said. Tears welled up hot in your eyes. “But you need to let me go. For your own safety, believe me.”

You saw the guilt, the sadness, the regret on Tom’s face. The brief indecision was overtaken when he glanced down the hall. You knew then that he was more afraid of his own brother than he was willing to do the right thing.

Your tears spilled over, though you tried to breathe through it. You’d tried to save them for when you were alone, those seldom few, cold hours, but you were reaching your breaking point.

“Okay, before I go, do you have to use the bathroom?” Tom asked. There was a bucket in the corner, and Jackson preferred it away from the chair. It was the only time Tom was allowed to unchain you from the wall and let you stretch your legs.

Letting out an exhausted sigh, you nodded in agreement. It was humiliating to know you were going to have to do this yet again, in a bucket, with company. With the manacles still on your wrists, he brought you over to the “special” corner.

Tom sighed and looked away to give you some semblance of privacy.

That was when you used every scrap of energy you had left in you.

You grabbed the chain and yanked it out of his hands long enough to wrap it around his neck from behind. You cut off his sounds of strain and kicked out his knees, so he was forced to kneel on the ground.

You wrapped the rest of the chain around your thigh, giving you the leverage you needed to tighten your grip and choke him out, until he was unconscious. His body fell to the side, and you heaved for breath. Once again, there were black spots in your vision, but you did your best to blink them away.

Now set with determination, you made your way to the plastic table and searched for the key to your chains. After the manacles were unlocked, you rubbed at your raw wrists and rapidly scanned the room. Adrenaline pumped through your veins as you calculated which way you should go to try and escape.

There were three possibilities in this clearing under the sewer: left, right, or straight ahead. Every time Tom or Jackson emerged, it sounded like it was behind you. The chair was facing to the east, which meant you had to take the left tunnel.

You ran in that direction and tried to find a metal ladder that would take you to whatever manhole cover these guys had detached. Someone couldn’t just open up any of those iron plates without the right tools, from the inside or the outside.

You walked as fast as you could manage, even though your entire body protested in pain. Then finally, you saw a black duffel bag lying on the ground, against the wall. Next to it was a metal ladder that went all the way up to the top.

“Jackson, don’t!”

You heard Tom’s voice, but you felt the presence behind you too late. Jackson hit you in the back of the head with that damn baton, so hard that even he grimaced at how the sound echoed on the walls. You crumpled to the ground.

Jackson stood over you with a grim set to his face. He turned to his brother with a shake of his head.

“She’s a walking welt, and you couldn’t handle her?” he said.

“This is too much,” Tom said in worry. He bent down and held two fingers to your neck. He still felt a pulse, at least, but when he felt behind your head, he found blood. His hand shook as he stared at it.

“If you didn’t want in on this, you should’ve said so from the beginning,” said Jackson. He spun the baton in his hand and clipped the hilt to his belt, from a small metal loop on the end of it.

“You didn’t say anything about…about this!” Tom argued. He cleaned your blood off on his jacket.

Jackson regarded his brother with disappointment, and he hefted you up into his arms. Tom followed him back to their setup with your makeshift prison. There Jackson left you lying on the ground, and chained you back up by your wrists for good measure. He then literally and figuratively wiped his hands of you.

“Come on, we’re leaving,” he said. “For good this time.”

Tom looked at you, then his brother in shock. There was even emotion in his eyes.   

“We’re leaving her to die,” he said, his voice unsteady. He knew then, that their mother wouldn't have wanted this in her name. If she saw both of them now, she wouldn't recognize them.

Jackson grabbed his younger brother where his neck met his shoulder. An iron grip.

“And what do you think Soldier Boy is going to do if he finds us?” Jackson asked. His gaze encouraged Tom to explore that reality for a moment.

Jackson nodded at your unconscious form. “Trust me, that bitch was never going to talk. But this is almost better.”

It wasn’t right, Tom thought. He knew it, deep in his heart, but he wasn’t strong like his brother, or even like you.

That was when they heard it. The rumble of engines dying and tires rolling overhead, dislodging a few stray pebbles and dust from the ceiling. Jackson’s eyes widened. 

“Fuck!” he muttered. “All right, let’s go.”

Jackson forced his younger brother to leave the sewer with him, and leave you chained up on the floor.

Ben, Butcher, M.M., and Frenchie had done much of the legwork in tracking down Jackson Rawlins and his brother Tom (with help from Annie, Kimiko, and Hughie of course). Frenchie had found your likely location with a powerful thermal scanner, courtesy of Grace.

Now, they’d driven up to the wide alley in the city and blocked off all the exits on the block. Ben was the first to get his boots on the ground and stride toward the point of entry, where according to Frenchie’s scanners, more than one body was holed up in the sewer. He held his shield at his side and at the ready when the manhole cover loosened, and slid open.

A small gas bomb rolled out towards his feet, but it was just tear gas, not the kind of thing that could actually affect him. Ben picked up the little round ball of metal and crushed it in his hand. While the rest of the team dove for the oxygen masks stored in the car, Ben stalked forward.

Seeing the silhouette of a man, Ben threw his shield hard enough to rattle a supe.

Jackson Rawlins was thrown clean onto his back with a force that stole the breath from his lungs, even through his gas mask. It also broke half a dozen ribs. Ben was soon bearing on top of him and ripping off the mask.

Jackson cried out as remnants of the tear gas seared his eyes.

“Got us a runner!” Butcher shouted. He intercepted and grabbed up a second man who tried to escape. Tom Rawlins wasn’t the threat, but he still wasn’t going free. M.M. and Frenchie also dove down into the sewer to try and find you after they got their gas masks on.

Meanwhile, Ben hauled Jackson up by his neck and walked him back until he hit the brick wall beside a nail salon. Jackson grunted in pain. Every breath he took was now agonizing, thanks to his now battered and broken ribs.

“Where is she?” Ben demanded.

Jackson actually laughed in his face, despite his now bloodshot eyes.

“All you fucking supes are the same,” he said. “But you…you’re the worst. Quite literally, the original asshole. And what does the government do? What does the world do? Gives you a pass on decades of indiscretions, fuck ups, and straight up murder.” 

Ben didn’t outwardly react, but he knew what Jackson’s problem was. He knew he killed the man’s family. Collateral damage—something that had caused Ben more than one argument with you in the past.

But he didn’t care.

He didn’t care, because all he could see in his mind’s eye was a metal bat hitting the back of your head and knocking you clean out. He saw you being taken against your will. Taken from him. And that, he couldn’t abide.

“Where. Is she?” Ben said, as his grip flexed around the other man’s neck. It would be easy. Easier than snapping a toothpick. And he warned, “Don’t make me fucking repeat myself.”

“Dead, probably,” Jackson spat, despite his red and bleary eyes. “Real tough bitch. I see why you’re fucking her…I had me a little taste myself.”

In that moment, Ben couldn’t compute.

His green eyes widened. His breath stilled.

Then his jaw clenched so tight that his teeth were grinding. A fire in his blood and behind his eyes, and fury that burned hot in his chest, almost giving it that nuclear glow.

His hand tightened and choked any salacious words Jackson might’ve spewed out next.

“He didn’t!” Tom shouted out. He was being restrained by Butcher. Ben glanced at them out of the corner of his eye.  

“He didn’t touch her. Not like that,” Tom said. He looked sincere.  

“Shut the fuck up, Tommy,” said his older brother. 

It earned Ben’s attention back. Jackson had the look of a man who knew he was going to die either way.

Ben’s lips curled into a sneer. He took the man’s head with both hands, and slowly crushed his skull. The scream echoed between Ben’s ears, but he was only satisfied when Jackson’s lifeless body dropped at his feet.

He turned to the other Rawlins next.

Tom had screamed as well to watch his brother’s life ended before his eyes. He now stared straight into Soldier Boy’s, pleading wordlessly for his own life. Ben started toward him.

“Please,” Tom said. He tried twisting away from Butcher, who held firm to the man’s arm. The Brit knew all too well, the rage that Ben had in his blood.

“Ben,” Annie tried, and she even stepped forward. Butcher held a hand out against her with a knowing look. It wouldn’t be wise to stand in the way.

“Hey!” M.M. shouted up from down the open hatch of the sewer. “We found her! Need help getting her loose.”

Ben paused in his steps. Tom was shaking, lips trembling, petrified.

Tilting his head, Ben let out a subtle breath through his nose. He began to turn back toward the sewer.

At the last moment, however, he drew his gun and shot Tom Rawlins between the eyes. The man was dead before he hit the ground.

Annie and Hughie flinched, but Butcher and Kimiko weren’t surprised in the least.

Meanwhile, Ben made his way back towards M.M.’s voice, and into the sewer. He heard M.M. and Frenchie arguing about first aid and head wounds, the further in he went. Ben’s dark mood blackened even more along the way.

Once he reached them, he also reached you, held in M.M.’s arms as he cradled your head.

You were unconscious with your wrists locked into heavy chains. The furrow between Ben’s brows deepened, but he got down to his knees beside you and first, broke your chains. He guided you out of M.M.’s arms and into his own, making sure to support your head. Blood was already staining his half-glove and fingers.

It was then that he noticed the small crimson pool lying where your body had been, likely from the wound he could feel at the back of your head. Ben’s mouth trembled the slightest bit, mostly in anger as he drew himself back onto his feet. Your body was littered with bruises, cuts both shallow and deep made by what looked like a blade, and God knew what else.

“I had me a little taste myself,” Jackson had taunted.

No, Ben internally shook that thought from his mind. No, you hadn’t been touched like that, at least, according to the sniveling, cock-sucking brother.

But can you trust that little cunt’s word?

Ben briefly closed his eyes, pressing his lips to your forehead. He continued walking down the hall and towards the light and fresh air of the world above.

You’re gonna be just fine, he promised you, if just within the safety of his mind.

Yeah, you would be all right.

He was going to make sure of it.

AN: 🫣 I'm sorry...BUT, I can promise it will get better (eventually). First, it's going to get worse.

Next Time:

It was a slow process, and it hurt, but you managed to turn your head. You saw a man sitting in the corner with a laptop balanced on his lap. He typed with two fingers at a time, which reminded you of your grandfather. His brown hair fell over his furrowed brows, but his beard was well trimmed.

His head soon raised, possibly feeling the weight of your gaze. His eyes widened a fraction, and he hastily closed the laptop and set it down on his seat before he went to you. You frowned when he came to sit at your bedside, and even touched your cheek with a gentle hand.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said. His voice was deep and smooth. “How’re you feeling?”

You didn’t have the energy to lean away from his hand, but you did give him a look of weary confusion.

“I…I don’t…who are you?” you asked.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 2

Ko-Fi Me ☕

Break Me Down Masterlist

Soldier Boy Masterlist

Main Masterlist

BMD/Series Tag List (Part 1):

@deans-spinster-witch @this-is-me19 @waynes-multiverse @samanddeaninatrenchcoat @spalady26

@spnwoman @syrma-sensei @wirdbeimaufhebengebunden @muhahaha303 @123passwort

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#Wake Me Up #Part 1 #Familiar Territory #soldier boy #soldier boy x reader #soldier boy/ben #soldier boy x you #soldier boy x female reader #Soldier Boy/Ben #the boys #the boys AU #the boys season 3 #the boys amazon #soldier boy fanfiction #billy butcher #jensen ackles characters #jensen ackles #Break Me Down #BMD-verse #zepskies writes

[theragethatisdesire]

"l’amore è cieco" - eren x reader - 18+!!!

back to the ti penso universe!!! finally!! did you guys miss it? i know i did; i am utterly obsessed with these two. i've had this sitting in my unfinished wip pile for way too long not to share.

our lovebirds have gotten the wedding all wrapped up with, so we're a solid four years past them reuniting in italy....and surprise! they're expecting!!!!! i could literally scream just writing that; the grip dad!eren has on me will never let up, i fear......anyways, this one's a little rough because i've picked it apart a thousand times and i'm just tired of editing, so you guys enjoy!!! sorry if it's not quite up to par :/

pairing: eren x reader

wc: 4k

DISCLAIMER: this post contains MATURE CONTENT that is intended only for those over 18. if you are a minor, please do not read below the cut.

CWs: smut, reader is pregnant, use of names (baby, mama, pretty, beautiful, etc), swearing, vaginal sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, breeding kink, lactation kink, creampie, crying, tooth-rotting fluff

title means "love is blind" in italian, per tradition w this verse <3

-

Right on schedule with your new daily, depressing routine, you stand in front of the mirror running your hands over your body, examining the recent changes. On second thought, scrutinizing might be a better word.

You’re grateful your job has allowed you to work from home for your entire pregnancy, editing articles from the journalists who can actually travel while snuggled up on your couch, but the downside of it is that you’ve had far too much time to mull on all of the ways your body has stretched and warped to accommodate the growing little girl in your stomach. You thought pregnancy was supposed to be beautiful, and sometimes it is, but more often than not, you just feel like a swollen, hormonal mess.

You “popped”, as all the mommy podcasts say, about two weeks ago, and thin stretch marks have begun to appear on your stomach. Eren calls them your “tiger stripes”, having been in full-blown cringe dad mode since the day you took the test. Bizarre cravings control you at all hours of the day, evidenced by the little black crumbs you’re picking out of your sports bra, left behind by your fourteen-Oreo breakfast today. You gaze longingly at the jewelry box on your bathroom counter; you haven’t been able to wear your wedding band in weeks, the tan line already beginning to fade from your finger. Before you can get a hold of yourself, the hormones have you in their grip, and hot, frustrated tears are spilling down your cheeks.

“Babe, have you seen that tie with the red–” Eren materializes in the doorway with absolutely no warning, as he’s prone to do, but cuts himself off at the sight of you, “baby, no, again?”

“Don’t say it like that,” you say, reluctantly allowing him to take you in his arms.

“Like what?” Eren’s voice is sweet, but hesitant. He’s been living under the constant threat of getting his head bitten off for mundane reasons because of you. It makes you feel worse, makes you shove him away and glare at him accusingly.

“Like I’m always fucking crying.” You are always crying, but you wish he would at least muster up some semblance of surprise at finding you in tears yet again. You turn away from him, wiping your face in the mirror. “Shouldn’t you be packing? Your flight leaves in like, three hours.”

“I’ll cancel,” Eren coos, stepping behind you to wrap his arms around your waist, picking your belly up in his hands.

It’s some hack he got off Tik Tok, supposed to take the weight off of your back for a precious moment, and as much as you don’t necessarily want to be touched right now, it actually helps. You’ve been alternating between thinking Eren’s overenthusiastic parenting research is adorable and mind-numbingly annoying, but for the moment, your back has stopped aching for the first time all morning, and you sigh, leaning into him.

“You can’t cancel,” you murmur, momentarily soothed, “‘s a big client. Where is it again? France?”

“I just got back from France, Miss Pregnancy Brain,” Eren chuckles, quieting immediately upon catching your lethal gaze in the mirror. “It’s just over in LA, and honestly, I could have Hitch go if you need me.”

“No, I can take care of myself, it’s just like…” a fresh wave of tears spills down your cheeks, “fuck, I don’t even know what’s wrong with me.”

Eren nods into your shoulder, letting you sniffle. It’s not a new trait, your outright refusal to ask for help, but it’s been exacerbated by your pregnancy, especially considering exactly how much help you actually need now.

You’ve taken custody of all of his sweatpants, not yet able to bring yourself to buy maternity clothes. You’d walked in sobbing and humiliated the other day because you’d peed yourself on the long elevator ride up to your apartment in front of the neighbors. You can’t sleep on your stomach anymore; Eren has to prop himself up just right beside you and sandwich you between himself and a wall of pillows to stop you from turning. You know it hurts him seeing you miserable, and you try to suck it up and enjoy the positives of pregnancy as much as you can, but you can’t muster up that strength every day.

“Hush,” Eren pulls your wet face to his chest, letting you stain the Number 1 Dad! t-shirt he had bought himself. “I’m not going.”

“Eren–”

“I’m not,” he says firmly, rubbing small circles into the bottom of your spine, “you need me here, whether you want to admit it or not.”

You grumble complacently, nuzzling into him. You do need him, as much as you want to think you can tough it out on your own. Eren’s bought book after book, not just for the baby, but for you. Most nights you find him reading titles like You’ve Made the Baby…Now What? or How to Survive Pregnancy: A Guide for Men with his feet propped up on the coffee table, a habit that, despite your efforts, you cannot nag him out of. It’s cute, honestly, how over-the-top he’s gotten with baby prep, especially when you’re often too exhausted to wrap your mind around reading a parenting guide.

“I feel ugly,” you admit quietly, sticky and snotty against his shirt. “I feel disgusting.”

“What?” Eren’s reaction is one of genuine confusion. He pushes you away from him so he can search your face, waiting patiently for you to elaborate.

“I’m gaining an obscene amount of weight, my ankles are the size of my knees, I can’t wear a single one of my rings, what am I supposed to feel like?”

Eren frowns. “Those things are supposed to happen. I read last night–”

“I don’t care!” Your voice cracks under the weight of your frustration, and you press your fingers into your eyes hard enough to see stars, trying to regain control of your temper. “I don’t care that it’s supposed to happen. It still sucks.”

“I think you’re beautiful,” Eren sounds earnest, but you scoff at him anyway.

“We’re married. You’re supposed to say that.”

“I don’t have to.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. “If you want your head to stay on your shoulders you do.”

Eren laughs at that, tugging you over to stand between his legs as he sits on the bed. “So, you’re serious? You genuinely don’t think you look good pregnant?”

“No,” you rub at your nose, “I don’t.”

Eren looks up at you, cupping your face gently. “I disagree.”

“Do you really?”

“I think you look better than ever.”

“That’s an insult to non-pregnant me,” you roll your eyes, moving to step away, but Eren holds you tight between his legs.

“It’s not,” he insists, “there’s just some things your pregnant body has that you didn’t necessarily have before. Some things that I like.”

You cock an eyebrow at him. “Cankles?”

Eren chuckles breathily, shaking his head. “I adore your cankles, but they weren't exactly the first thing that came to mind. Take these, for one thing.”

Eren presses his nose into your sports bra, hands moving up underneath to palm at your swollen tits. You let out a breathy laugh as he explores, already feeling a low heat beginning to simmer in your core. That’s one perk of entering your second trimester; your hormones might turn on a dime, but your sex drive has skyrocketed.

Eren shoves your bra up to free your tits, groaning appreciatively as he takes a nipple into his mouth, licking and sucking. You watch as he feels his way around with his mouth, humming contentedly under your breath, when suddenly, his eyes fly open and he shoots away from you.

“What?”

Eren shushes you, bringing a hand to the breast that had been in his mouth and squeezing lightly. White liquid beads on your nipple, and you cover your face in shame.

“When did that start?”

“A few days ago,” you admit, trying to push his hands off of you, cheeks burning. Eren swats you away, leaning back into your nipple, sucking harder. You can feel a small stream of milk leaving you, relieving some of the pressure in your tits; a moan rumbles deep in Eren’s chest, and you can see his Adam’s apple bob as he swallows. Eren releases your nipple with a loud pop and looks up at you panting, eyes blown wide.

“Is it weird that that’s kinda hot?”

“Probably.”

“Does it hurt?”

“No,” you hum, threading your hands through his hair and urging him back to your chest, “feels good.”

That’s all Eren needs to hear, diving back into your chest with renewed vigor. As he continues, you realize it doesn’t just feel good, it actually feels incredible. You’ve always had sensitive breasts, but with the pregnancy, sensation has increased tenfold; you can feel your panties getting wetter as the weight of your full breast decreases. When Eren’s gotten all he can from your left nipple, he moves to your right, replacing his mouth on the now-abandoned nipple with his hand to twist gently at the wet skin.

The combined sensation makes your knees buckle; Eren saves you smoothly by wrapping an arm around your lower back, yanking you to him to straddle his leg. It’s the perfect angle for you to roll your hips against his thigh slowly, feeling the much-needed friction of his sweatpants against your cunt.

“Eren…” you breathe out, voice nothing more than a wisp of air.

“I know baby,” Eren speaks directly into your flesh, not willing to back away for even a moment, “feels good, doesn’t it?”

“Feels so good,” you whimper, clutching him to you with fistfuls of his hair.

“Told you this new body’s not so bad, hm?” Eren closes his teeth down on your nipple lightly; you almost keel over from the shockwave it sends through you.

You nod, rubbing yourself against his thigh faster. It’s awkward and cumbersome with your belly in the way, but it’s enough for now, enough to light your nerves on fire in that way that only Eren’s ever been able to.

“Fuckin’ ridiculous,” Eren mutters, grabbing onto your hips to help you get your rhythm right, “you’re so perfect, and you don’t even see it.”

Your fingers dig into his arms as you moan. “But my stomach–”

“But nothing,” Eren kisses you, mumbling into your mouth, “love your stomach, love your tits, love all of it. You think it doesn’t make me so fucking hard, watching you walk around with that big belly and knowing what it came from? I did that. We did that, didn’t we baby?”

“Mhm,” you bite into his shoulder, the friction on your clit through your sweatpants is getting to your head, making you dizzy. “Eren, Eren–”

“Sh sh sh,” Eren shushes you, moving so that he can look you in the eyes, “what do you need? Tell me.”

“I don’t– I don’t know, I just…” you can’t find the words, so in need of him that you can’t even decide what sounds best. His mouth? His fingers? All of it?

“Okay, okay,” Eren says quietly, standing you both up only to lay you against the pillows, “I’ve gotcha.”

He nudges his sweatpants down your legs, bringing your panties with them, spreads your legs so he can see the most intimate part of you. Eren brings his hand to your clit, rubbing tentatively, but you’re so desperate for him that it’s enough to make your back arch, a long, throaty moan ripping out of you. He lays beside you, gently playing with your clit and watching in awe at the reaction you give him, already a blubbering mess after only a few minutes.

“So sensitive, aren’t you mama?”

“Yes,” you hiss out through clenched teeth, a fresh wave of arousal flooding you at the name, “s-so sensitive. Need to cum, I need, n-need–”

“I’ll make you cum,” Eren promises, sinking a finger into you, “I’ll make you cum, baby.”

“Fuck, Eren, it’s– I can’t–”

“Feel good?”

“So fucking good,” you’re basically sobbing at this point, fingers clenched into the muscles of his bicep, clinging to him and humping his hand. You’re not sure if it’s the lack of sex over the first trimester (“What if I hit the baby’s head?” Eren had asked nervously whenever you approached him) or the rawness of the sensation against your over-sensitive body, but you’ve never been so close to your orgasm so quickly.

You don’t hold out long; Eren’s skilled with even just one finger, and before long, you’re crying out his name, gushing all over his hand. Eren presses his lips to your forehead in a sweet kiss despite having utterly destroyed you less than thirty seconds ago.

“Ready for me?”

“Sit,” you pant, pointing to the massive stack of pillows against your headboard. Eren raises his eyebrows in surprise, but does as he’s told, only pausing to pull his clothes off. The loss of the stupid dad t-shirt is a relief as much as feeling his bare chest under your hands. Due to your hormones, you’ve thrown Eren out of the house several times, and you’ve demanded to be alone enough to where his only solution is to go to the gym downstairs and work out until you’ve calmed down. It shows: his chest has grown broader and stronger, and the veins on his arms are nearly popping through the skin. “You look good.”

“Yeah?” Eren offers a shit-eating grin, flexing his bicep ever so subtly. “You should see yourself.”

“You seriously think I look good like this?” You’re straddling his hips now, rubbing your clit on his bare cock. It’s a lewd sight, his cock drooling on his abs, glistening with your cum; your cunt clenches around nothing, more than ready to be filled.

“Mhm, you look so fucking good like that,” Eren grunts, hands finding your hips again and lifting you up to sink you down on his cock, both of you letting out loud, satisfied groans, “but you look much better like this.”

You grind your hips against his, not possessing the energy to bounce your now-heavier body, but it makes you see stars. Eren rarely lets you ride him, much preferring to bend you over or pin you to the bed himself, but with your bump, you now have an excuse to hop on top of him whenever you like. It’s been close to a decade of fucking him, but the full stretch of him never fails to shock you, the way he pushes into you until you’re positive he’s in your stomach. With Eren sitting up, his cock stays firmly nestled against your g-spot, pushing little bits of squirt out of you with each movement of your hips.

“Eren–” you whimper, holding your breasts as you rock into him.

“Shit- you’re so tight like this,” Eren says through his clenched jaw, throwing his head back against the headboard, “why don’t you ride me more often?”

“You don’t let me,” you say with a watery giggle.

“Stupid,” Eren gasps, “‘m so fucking stupid.”

You’re too fucked out to voice your agreement, opting for sliding a hand down your body to flick at your clit. You can’t quite reach it around your bump, though, a discontented noise leaving your lips. Eren opens his eyes, takes notice of the way you’re hunching your back, and swats your hand away.

“I got it, I got it,” he pants, tucking his hand underneath your swollen belly to rub your clit just the way he knows you like it.

“Oh, f-fuck,” you choke out, throwing your head back.

“Good?”

“Yeah,” you hiss, “‘s perfect.”

“Take what you need, mama,” Eren’s watching you intently, a glimmer of admiration in his eye, “take what you need.”

You’re moaning pitifully, loud and wanton as Eren’s cock moves inside of you. Your cunt tightens around him desperately as the bubble building in your stomach threatens to explode.

“Think you get wetter like this, all swollen with my baby,” Eren muses, leaning forward to latch his mouth around one of your nipples where more milk has already started to pool. His words have a visceral reaction on you; you cry, tears welling in your eyes as you spiral towards your release. 

“I think–I think I’m gonna– oh fuck, don’t stop,” you croon, rocking your hips as fast as you can manage. Eren mumbles around your nipple, something about how beautiful you look, and you come undone around him, grinding your hips hard against his and cradling him to your chest. He might have a point- there’s damn near a puddle of your arousal at the base of where you’re connected, slicking up the skin on his hips and the inside of your thighs.

“Better?” Eren pulls you in for a kiss; you can feel him grinning through it.

“Maybe a little,” you admit, laughing light and watery against his mouth.

“Mmm,” Eren hums, grabbing you by the hips and lifting you only to drop you down again and turn your laughter to a quiet whimper, “not good enough. Need you to be much better.”

“Fuck me, then,” you nip at his bottom lip, earn yourself a deep groan.

“Can you— can you hold yourself up like this?” Eren scooches both of you down, albeit, a little awkwardly, so that he can lay flat on the bed. He moves you up until you’ve only got him halfway inside of you, cocking a questioning eyebrow at you.

“Yeah, I–I think so.”

“And you’re sure I’m not going to hurt–”

“Jesus Christ– no Eren, it’s fine, just– fuck,” he cuts you off with a sharp snap of his hips up into yours, grinning menacingly when your eyes roll back.

“Like that?”

“Just like that,” you moan, annoyance wiped from you with one clean stroke. Eren takes that for the green light that it is and starts pistoning his hips up into you, swearing under his breath. Even though he’d instructed you to hold yourself up, he makes good use of his new muscles, suspending you at the perfect height to feel every inch of him as he fucks up into you like his life depends on it.

“You look so fucking gorgeous like this,” Eren growls, “all swollen with my fuckin’ baby. Gonna keep you like this, give you as many as you want.”

“Eren–” you choke out, suffocating on the way he’s fucking you, his words, him. For the first time in months, you feel amazing, holding your chest and groaning long and loud as Eren thrusts up into you.

“Baby, I’m- fuck, not gonna–” Eren cuts himself off with something that sounds suspiciously close to a whimper, throwing his head back.

“Cum in me,” you pant, nodding urgently at him, “want it so bad.”

“Oh fuck,” Eren groans, hips moving impossibly faster. His fingers are digging into your hips near to the point of pain, and that little frown he makes when he’s about to cum is crumpling his face. You do want it, badly.

“Please Eren, I need it,” you gasp, legs trembling on either side of his hips.

“Fucking love you, love you so much,” Eren slurs, hips stuttering. With a long, throaty moan, he slams you down one final time, cumming deep inside of you. You grind against him as he does, moaning along with him at the familiar warmth in your belly. Exhausted, you momentarily forget about your bump and try to collapse facefirst on him- that’s enough to snap Eren out of his post-orgasm haze.

“Whoa, whoa,” Eren shoves you back upright, lifting you under your shoulders and laying you on your back, “careful.”

You wince. “Shit, sorry. Sometimes I forget. It’s still sort of new.”

“I know,” Eren agrees, eyes locked lovingly on your baby bump, “love it, though.”

“Really?”

Eren cocks a disbelieving eyebrow at you. “If that didn’t convince you, I don’t know what will.”

You giggle at that; he’s always been good at this, cheering you up and diffusing your worries like it’s second nature. After ten years, it probably is at this point.

“I don’t mean to be so down on myself, really,” you sigh, tracing a finger over where his hand’s splayed on your stomach, “it’s just…so much harder than I thought it would be.”

Eren nods thoughtfully. “That’s reasonable. But you’re so good at it.”

“I haven’t even– what?” The insecurities that you’ve been successfully masking under good natured teasing and occasional annoyance come slipping from between your lips. You’ve thought it for weeks; how Eren’s so into all the baby stuff, so enthusiastic about learning everything he can, while all you’ve managed is trying not to gag when he cooks eggs in the morning and picking out some onesies. “What about all of your books and your podcasts and crap? You’re the one doing everything.”

“That’s all I can do,” Eren scoffs, “you’re doing all the hard stuff, like carrying the baby around and puking every morning and crying all the time–”

“Hey!”

“I’m serious,” Eren shushes you, “you’re putting in all the legwork. I mean, you’re literally growing our baby. You’re a fucking rockstar mom already. If anyone’s not doing enough here, it’s me.”

That’s one thing about Eren that will never get easier; his deep, unwavering admiration for you, no matter what you’re doing. Sure, it’s endearing when Eren spins you around in his arms for something as simple as finally getting that croissant recipe to come out well, but when he’s praising you for something that’s actually difficult? It’s sweet enough to give you a cavity, warm your heart, and turn your cheeks pink all at once, even after all this time.

“Well, if you’d like to take a shift carrying her around, be my guest. She’s a chunky little thing already,” you roll your eyes, tucking your face into Eren’s ribs to mask the flush rising to your face.

“I’d do it for you if I could,” Eren sighs in faux-thoughtfulness, “but I wouldn’t look half as hot.”

You giggle furiously when he lands a slap to your ass, swatting at his chest. “God, it still doesn’t feel real, does it? A little girl that’s half you, half me.”

“It does and it doesn’t,” Eren shrugs, bringing a hand back to your stomach, “I don’t know about you, but I’ve been thinking about it since Italy.”

You gape at him. “That long?”

“You know I’m always ahead of you on this stuff,” Eren teases, squeezing your cheeks together, “knew I wanted you first, knew I wanted you back first, knew we should get married…”

“Yeah, yeah,” you roll your eyes at his bragging, “it’s just, like…are we ready? To do this?”

“This?” Eren cocks his head.

“The whole…‘parents’ thing.”

“Putting aside the fact that you're way too late to be having those kinds of thoughts,” Eren says, rubbing your lower back, “of course we’re ready. There’s no perfect parents, but I believe in us– believe in you. Gonna be the best mama any baby’s ever had, I know you will.”

“I don’t even…oh, Eren.” You’re tearing up again–damn hormones. Eren wipes at your tears, planting a big kiss on your forehead.

“I mean it. You’re going to be great, already are,” he says, smiling down at you. He holds you just like that for a few moments, letting you nuzzle into his chest, until his little grin grows wicked. “Although…the only thing I can say I am worried about is which one of us is going to accidentally teach her her first swear word. Should we bet on it?"

Even through your tears, you cock an eyebrow at him. “You and I both know that’s going to be Jean. Especially after what you taught Clara the last time we babysat.”

Eren barks out a laugh. “Hey, hearing her call Jean ‘Daddy Jackass’ was funny, and you know it!”

“Thanks for reminding me,” you smirk, “now I know what I’m teaching our little girl first.”

“No way!”

#eren jaeger x reader #eren yeager x reader #eren jaeger smut #eren yeager smut #aot x reader #snk x reader #snk fanfiction #aot fanfiction #eren jaeger fanfic #eren jaeger fanfiction #ti penso universe #ti penso uni

[avocado-writing]

Now I’m not saying ‘sexytime roleplay where aristo princeling Aziraphale has to somehow persuade reader/Crowley/both to help smuggle him across the border’ but…

Basically, Aziraphale in his 1793 outfit, being sensually undressed, and seducing his partner(s) while getting humiliated a little? If you feel like it ofc, your writing gives me life !

notes: once again absolute smut. this outfit drives me insane. costume designers you know what you did. thank you to my friend M who pretty much wrote the lil Crowley monologue at the start of this fic, couldn't have done this without you!

pairing: aziraphale x reader x crowley

rating: E, minors dni

words: 2.2k

tags: roleplay (humiliation; degradation; dirty talk; dubcon); aftercare; TLTDATSIB-verse

Overall, when you think about this situation, there are two things that you’re quite certain of.

The first one is this: Aziraphale likes to be rescued. It’s why he’s always getting himself in silly little situations. Usually it’s Crowley that has to do the actual rescuing, given that he’s a demon with otherworldly powers and all, but you’ve been known to distract a guard or lift a key. Bust down a wall with a battering ram. Helpful little things like that. 

In the aftermath Aziraphale is always very pleased and finds ways to make it up to you both later, so there’s never any complaining. 

The second thing you know is that after all these years you can still discover things about yourselves and about each other. It’s always lovely to start a sentence with, ‘oh, I didn’t know that…!” You find new little ways to fall in love with them over and over again.

You’ve just made the tea, and put Aziraphale’s down on the desk next to him. He thanks you the usual way but doesn’t look up from the book in his hands, so when he reaches over to pick it up he instead knocks the mug over and spills the hot liquid all over his lap.

“Aziraphale!”

His head snaps up. He’s barely aware of the situation at all. You imagine his corporeal form isn’t hurt by little things like these, but your natural reaction is to worry; get a little bit panicked.

“What are you doing? You need to watch out! You could really hurt yourself if you’re not paying attention, don’t be so silly!”

Aziraphale is looking at you, but he seems to have gone a bit glossy-eyed as you dress him down. Mouth agape a little. You know this look.

This is how he looks when he’s turned on.

“Aziraphale?”

“Hmm? Sorry, yes darling, I’ll be more careful,” he mutters, miracling the spill away. Across the shop floor you lock eyes with Crowley. Yes. He noticed that too. 

The two of you silently agree to address this with him later. So, that night, with a couple of bottles of merlot between you, Crowley turns to your husband and says, as easily as if he’s discussing the weather:

“So, angel, it seems you really enjoyed being told off earlier.”

Aziraphale chokes on his wine. Ah. Got him. 

“It’s alright if it’s true,” you tell him, running a hand up his leg. “You just need to say.”

“I… I…”

“It occurs to me,” Crowley begins, sitting back in his seat as if he’s about to say something very astute, “that when you get captured, it can’t all be for our benefit. Maybe you enjoy it before we even get there to carry out a daring escape. You like being somewhere you’re not supposed to be and being punished for it, don’t you? Do you like being treated a little rough?”

And there’s that look again: eyes glassed over, pink tongue darting out to lick his lips. 

“Go on Aziraphale, you can tell us. We can be very accommodating.”

“Yes,” he manages, pupils blown wide as you walk your fingers up his chest. 

You and Crowley exchange a grin. 

The three of you don’t roleplay a lot. You’re happy enough with each other as it is, there’s not usually a need to bring the fantasy element into it - but variety is the spice of life and after floating a few scenarios this is the one you eventually agreed to. It really happened, actually. You can still remember the guard you knocked over the head to clear the way for your lovers’ escape. Ahh, fond memories.

You have some clothes still kicking around from then too, so a little bit of searching your wardrobe really meant you could get into character. Aziraphale and Crowley get to cheat by just manifesting whatever they fancy wearing. You feel they get off a bit easily.

Well, they will by the time we’re done, a devilish voice in your head pipes up. 

Crowley has really gone the whole nine yards for this, though. Clearly he wants all parties involved to enjoy it to maximum effect, and so when the two of you step into the bedroom it’s no longer a bedroom, in fact it looks exactly like a dungeon where your poor angel has been imprisoned before. His curls sit neatly styled on his head as he wears his pretty little aristocrat outfit, the one that did things to you back in the day and still does things to you now. His wrists are shackled and he looks up at you both with the most pathetic little gaze.

You swallow. You’re going to enjoy this.

“Well, well, well,” Crowley says, wasting no time before getting into character, “look what we’ve got here. Some lost little rich boy who got caught by the wrong people, eh?”

Aziraphale shifts in his seat. Already he’s affected; eyes soft and mouth slack. He tugs uselessly at his restraints and looks very pitiful indeed.

“Please let me go,” he whispers, encapturing the role of a feeble little captive perfectly. You and Crowley exchange a look, lit by a hot undercurrent of lust.

“Why would we do that?”

“I can reward you. Very handsomely. My family –”

“We don’t care about your family,” you laugh, cruelly, and he flinches. You close the gap and take his face in your hand roughly, forcing him to look up at you. “We only care about seeing your pretty little head in a basket. Look at you. Pathetic, aren’t you?”

The ardour in Aziraphale’s eyes is evident: his pupils have blown wide, engulfing the beautiful colour of his irises. You can see his trousers tighten and he has to adjust himself.

“Yes. Yes, I am,” he agrees. You grin down at him.

“And what would you do, hmm? To get us to help you? Smuggle you back on a ship on its way to merry old England, where you’ll be safe?”

“Pay.” His voice is breathy now, strained as he looks up into your eyes. You press your calf more firmly between his legs and, almost without realising, he begins to rut up against you. He’s already fully hard. 

You didn’t realise how much he wanted this. If you had, you and Crowley might have indulged him earlier.

“Pay with what?” Crowley echoes. He sounds stern but you know him well enough to hear the reediness in his words. He’s probably half-mast too.

Aziraphale doesn’t answer, just rubs into your leg a bit more.

“With your body, you pretty pathetic thing?”

He moans, actually moans, and nods.

“Look at you. Fucking up against me like a dog. Is that what you are, hmm? Some piteous little mutt?”

He makes a noise of affirmation. You can see a wet spot appearing at the front of his trousers where his precome floods him.

“Say it.”

“I’m a dog,” he whines. You shoot Crowley a grin. The demon, for what it’s worth, seems to have become a captive audience to the scene of Aziraphale trying to get off using just the pressure he can create. A stamp of your foot stops both Aziraphale in his attempts and brings Crowley back to the moment.

“If you want to be free so badly, show me what you’re willing to do. Suck his cock.”

Aziraphale looks over to Crowley and, without missing a beat, lets his mouth fall open. It’s like a magnet to your husband who closes the gap immediately and, with some fiddling with the buttons on his fly, frees his rock-hard member and presses the blunt head of it against the angel’s tongue, who takes no time in swallowing it down.

You don’t move from your place between Aziraphale’s spread thighs. In fact, you shove your leg between them even harder and he understands what you want, continuing to try and get himself off. His head is twisted at an almost painful angle to be able to fellate Crowley at the same time as desperately humping you, and you can see the tears prick in his eyes.

You consider asking for a moment if he’s alright, but know if he needed to tap out, he’d let you both know. This is about humiliating him after all. And you really want to play your part properly.

Hungrily you watch the sight of Aziraphale swallowing down Crowley’s cock. God, he is magnificent at taking a dick. You can see spit drip over his lips as he tongues at the slit, his eyes rolling back in pleasure at being used. Crowley’s hand come to tangle in his soft curls as he fucks into the angel’s mouth and hits the back of his throat over and over. You’re taken in by it too, and in the heat of the moment find yourself ensnaring Crowley in a delicious kiss. Your husband kisses you back leisurely and lovingly. You know he’s enjoying both of his spouses to the fullest. Aziraphale gags and finally the tears spill, hot streaks staining his pretty roseate cheeks. 

“Pathetic,” you say, lovingly, adoringly. Aziraphale’s thrusts up against your leg are beginning to get a bit sloppy now, you know he’s close to coming; you extract yourself and turn sharply to Crowley.

“Stop. We can get more use out of him. I want to see you fuck him in front of me.”

You make quick work of your clothes. Usually you’d relish undressing for them, put on a show, but tonight is all about satisfaction. Lying on the floor you open your legs, gesturing Aziraphale to between them.

“Come on, you wretched thing. Show me what else you can do.”

Aziraphale moans and falls to his knees before crawling over to you. His mouth leaves Crowley with a very sultry little pop, spit still covering his face, lips fucked open and red. As he gets into position between your thighs Crowley kneels behind him, making short work of his dress breeches and brings them down to his ankles, around his heels. You position yourself propped up on your elbows so you can look over Aziraphale’s back as Crowley presses into him, not giving him the kindness of a warmup but knowing that Aziraphale will be able to take it anyway. His heavenly body can stretch and adjust with more ease than a human’s.

Your blond-haired husband looks up at you with deference and just a tinge of fear which goes right to the pit of your belly. He kisses your thighs sloppily, working his way inwards before he presses his mouth to you properly; attentive and thorough to your sex. 

Crowley begins to fuck him, hard and rough without any care for his well-being - exactly how Aziraphale wants it. You hear him moan around you as he uses his tongue to satiate you, every time Crowley thrusts he’s pushed harder against your body. Crowley is essentially fucking you through him. It’s an entirely filthy thought that has you panting as you feel yourself begin to crest. You didn’t realise how taken you were with this scenario until Aziraphale began his ministrations, and now you’re just as caught up in it as your husbands are.

“That’s it… fuck, look at you, splayed out between us like the whore you are… are you going to come on his cock, you pathetic little thing? Debase yourself like that? Are you going to swallow me down too?”

Aziraphale pushes his face even harder into you, his nose brushing against your tight curls there; Crowley’s thrusts begin to get erratic; all three of you are close. You grip the angel’s hair so hard he shrieks in pleasure, and it’s enough to get him to spend all over the floor. Crowley comes inside him with a bitten-off snarl, his hands digging into the softness of Aziraphale’s hips so hard they’d leave bruises were he a human; and you release in the angel’s mouth after a particularly dexterous lick. The combined sound of your orgasms shatters whatever hold Crowley had on the manifestation of the situation, and suddenly you’re all back in the bedroom, sweating and gasping and replete.

“Aziraphale,” you manage as you catch your breath, “are you alright, my darling?”

Aziraphale has collapsed into a giddy pile onto the carpet. He nods and hums, blissed-out, and you bring his head to lay in your lap as you stroke his curls.

“You did so well. Fuck, you’re wonderful.”

Aziraphale turns to look at you and reaches up to caress your face with a shaking hand. You press a kiss into his palm and look over to Crowley who’s gathering himself as well, serpentine eyes full of adoration at the image of the two of you embracing.

“I’m going to go and get some water. Keep him there, will you? I don’t want him discorporating from lack of aftercare.” Normally you’d engage in some light banter, but you’re so tired you let this sentence sit as fact.

“Yes my love,” you tell Crowley, accepting the kiss he offers you, and watching him saunter away. Lord. You could watch that demon for hours.

Heaven might be above, but right now, it’s entirely located in your bedroom in a townhouse in West London.

taglist: @angiestopit @dazed-soul  @foolishprincipalitee @smile-eywa @staygoldsquatchling02 @underratedboogeyman @specter-soltare @candlewitch-cryptic @cool-ontherun-world @emilynissangtr @willbedecided @bdffkierenwalker @cool-iguana @ilyatan @civil-groupie @willyoubethepookietomypookster @lxsm2 @clarina04 @wtfhasmy-lifecometo @mrgatotortuga @wereallbrokenangels @silcosmoke @kimqueenofhell @chewbrry @night-affiliate @bajablast23 @h3k3t @am-i-obsessed---maybe

#crowley x reader x aziraphale #ineffable husbands x reader #good omens x reader #fic: the light the dark and the spaces inbetween #request

[rainbowdaisy13]

TTPD The Anthology Summary Part 1 *IMO*

This is viewed through a queer lens because I believe she is fucking done playing nice so now she’s throwing it in our faces—FUCKING SEE ME

1) Fortnight—

I was supposed to be sent away but they forgot to come and get me/I was a functioning alcoholic till nobody noticed my new aesthetic

*MIGHTY GOD we start right out the gate sad as hell—no one noticed her queer flagging both quiet and loud and that pushed her from being a functioning alcoholic to a not functioning one. She then says to the fans who refused to acknowledge her truth “I hope that you’re ok but you’re the reason” FOR ME BEING INSANE

*Mentioning wanting to kill people that’s a first and I love it

*I love you it’s ruining my life OUCH 🤕 yes that sounds like something straight people deal with 😑

2) TTPD-

*I’m sorry I can’t remember what mutual said this, but I love love this as coming from Karlie’s perspective. It absolutely fits. She ground Taylor in a way no one else can

*First mention of suicide—both can’t live without the other

*Were crazy—owning the demons together

*The wedding ring line—GOD

3) MBOBHFT—

*I see this one as Taylor viewing herself as a commodity, also as someone who is broken and needs to be fixed so that she remains lovable. It also gives me Cardigan vibes without the redemption arc

4) Down Bad—

*Love this Alien Abduction theme. Melody is even spacey sounding. The entire song uses alien motifs and I adore it. Fave line “they’ll say I’m nuts if I talk about the existence of you” Brilliant 👽 Also the concept of an Out of this World Love

5) So Long London—

*Cool opening—beautiful when they layer her own voice

How much sad did you think I had in me? 😫

*I see this song as a My Tears Ricochet 2. Taylor giving all her youth to someone for free. You say I abandon the ship but I was going down with it—I truly believe she tried and begged them to let her come out for years and she was always shot down—2 graves 1 gun, more murder imagery

*So Long London, so long Big Machine

6) BDILH—

Absolutely beautiful and heartbreaking song

These people only raise you to cage you 😫

*Sarahs and Hannahs/braided hair/church/Elders making decisions—giving cult/LDS vibes

Stay away from her -Elders are yelling this—to who? Taylor? So Taylor needs to stay away from HER interesting

*Shed rather burn it all down than listen to them complain about her sexuality and how it impacts them

My good name, it’s mine alone to disgrace —absolutely shots fired at Scott Swift

*Soliloquies line is incredible—“I’ll never see” is such a burn 😆

*This isn’t a phase, this is who she is!!

*YOU AINT GOTTA PRAY FOR ME!! GET THEM ALL BITCH—SHOW THEIR ASSES

*This is my choice!!

GET 👏🏼 THEM 👏🏼 ALL

NO YOU CANT COME TO THE WEDDING PERIOD

7) FOTS—

*Pretty Baby, much like Babydoll is reserved for women and gay men and theys and thems. We don’t call straight men this 😒

*Fresh out the slammer—realllly trying to get these idiots to understand that she’s felt jailed /caged/trapped

My friends…Watch me daily disappearing 😫 fuck

Wearing Imaginary rings 😫😫😫 Says hello to paper rings says hello to imaginary lockets

*It’s gonna be alright she did her time!! 🥹

8) FLORIDA!!!—

I adore this song—my second fave on the album and absolute fucking banger. So glad Florence agreed to this they makes an amazing duo vocally—main vibes—Florida is the place Taylor wants to go to fucking escape the mess she lives in day to day. Anything goes, everyone is there hiding from something—the law, family, winter—nothing is too weird or unaccepted—and a certain someone has a house there 😎

My friends all smell like weed or little babies 😆

Florence’s verse is chefs kiss—Earl had to die vibes, watching bodies sink into the swamp, just full on misandry I LOVE IT—is that a bad thing to say in a song?? 😆 GET THEM ALL

Also I bet this song made Swifties uncomfortable 😆

FUCK ME UP FLORIDA 🤘🏼🤘🏿🤘🏾

9) Guilty as sin?

The Gay Longing/Gay Sex Song

*Another* suicide reference—but she’s just joking right swifities?

👀

No no that’s fine she just described an orgasm and if she’s not touching the person, let’s assume the pic below ⬇️ is like HEY THIS IS THE SEX IM SPEAKING ABOUT—it’s very much giving The Man pose for getting dome👀

And then the Jesus reference is just chefs kiss—gay sex is seen as sin and unholy by idiots and she said ok then bitch, what if I tell you the sex is so good we ARE what’s holy??

👀

She literally said messy top lip kiss and got away with it like 😆😆😆😆😆😆😆

10) WAOLOM—

I just……this may be my favorite song of hers ever. It’s absolutely incredible in its intensity, rawness, and truth as well as being a banger

Every lyric screams her pain

My bare hands paved their path/you don’t get to tell me about sad/ If you wanted me dead you should’ve just said

I leap from the gallows and I levitate down your street —Witch Imagery again!!

WHOSE AFRAID OF LITTLE OLD ME

👹YOU SHOULD BE 👹

Shots fired again at Scott Swift!! Let’s hear one more joke—they mocked her pain because they truly thought they could convince her she wasn’t gay 🫥

GODDDD 😫

Put narcotics into all of my songs—“a drug or other substance that affects mood or behavior and is consumed for nonmedical purposes, especially one sold illegally—a drug that relieves pain and induces drowsiness, stupor, or insensibility”

SHE SAID I HAVE TO USE MALE PRONOUNS AND FAKE REFERENCES TO MEN IN MY LYRICS SO YOU IDIOTS STAY STUPID AND HAPPY

and that’s why you’re still singing along 😎

Just WOW

Brilliant and Heartbreaking and RAW

🤍🤍🤍 We love you Girl 🤍🤍🤍

[krirebr]

For the IKISKB verse: what if Curtis was the celebrity (maybe an actor) and Reader was his PA or publicist? How would that change the dynamic?

Oh, I love this question! The short little thing I came up with has real ch 1 of IKISKB vibes. I went with Actor (action star) and PA. I hope you like it and it answers your question!

Just Part of the Process

Pairing: Actor!Curtis Everett x PA!Reader

Warnings: Explicit language, references to excessive drinking, adult themes, angst

You sat at the kitchen island on your laptop, going through emails and updating Curtis’s schedule. Schedule Tetris was your superpower, moving things around to make sure everything fit just so. It was one of the reasons he’d kept you around the last two years. One of many, you hoped.

It was about 1 PM when Curtis stumbled down from his bedroom and entered the kitchen. He went straight to the fridge, pulling out one of the fancy, high-electrolyte hangover cures you kept stocked. He pounded it quickly, recycling the container, and then finally looked at you. “Oh hey. How long have you been here?” he asked, his voice gritty with the remnants of sleep and whiskey.

“A few hours,” you said quietly. “I put your drycleaning in the downstairs closet. I didn’t want to wake you up. Now, I’m just working on your schedule.” 

He grimaced. “Please tell me I’m clear today.”

You shook your head. “Your trainer will be here in half an hour.”

“Fucking shit,” he muttered and grabbed another drink out of the fridge.

You almost reminded him that his trainer was going to be pissed at him for being hungover, as Curtis was supposed to be bulking up for his next movie, but you didn’t need to bother. He knew.

“Did you have a good night?” you asked, instead.

“No,” he said in almost a growl. Shit, it was one of those nights. “Anything online?” 

“I haven’t checked yet,” you said, carefully. Wondering what was on the gossip blogs was a bad sign. “Anything in particular I should be looking for?”

He shrugged. “I don’t–” he started, then looked away from you. “I don’t really remember clearly, but I feel like there might be something.” Oh, double shit. It was a really bad night, then. 

This wasn’t fully out of the ordinary. Known as America’s Bad Boy by the tabloids and gossip blogs, it wasn’t uncommon to see stories about him insulting someone outside of a club, smashing a paparazzo's camera on the ground, loving and leaving some starlet. So you’d been surprised when you first met him to find that he was actually very quiet, soft-spoken when he did speak, respectful of your time, and appreciative of your effort. He was the third actor you’d PA’d for and by far the easiest to get along with.  

But lately, he’d seemed increasingly tired and maybe a little – sad? He’d been going out even more than usual, blowing off prep for his next movie – which wasn’t like him at all, talking to you, or anyone, even less than normal. You’d prided yourself on being a help to him, knowing how to take care of him, but this? You didn’t know what to do about this.

The other complicating factor was the pesky feelings you’d developed over the past two years. You’d always known he was hot. He was an action star, that was part of the job. But up close and personal, you appreciated how beautiful he was. How kind. How thoughtful. How gentle. You were in love with him and you had been for a long time.

“Well,” you said, trying not to show your concern too plainly, “I’ll take a look and let you know what I find.”

He nodded absently, still looking away from you. You gave yourself a moment to take him in. He was a little hunched over, his skin paler than usual, his eyes a little sunken. You sighed, knowing you shouldn’t do it. He was an adult, he could face the consequences of his actions. But. You sighed, again. “I’ll call your trainer, and let him know you’ve come down with something. But that just means he’ll kick your ass even harder next time.”

You half-expected him to respond with a shit-eating grin or a sheepish smile. Instead, he looked at you very seriously. “Thank you,” he said. “I don’t deserve you.” You just sort of blinked at that, having no idea what to say. He turned back towards the stairs. “I’m going back to bed, wake me up if you need anything.”

He was almost to the staircase when you were finally able to turn your swirling thoughts into words. “Curtis,” you called out to him. He stopped and turned to look at you. “Are you ok?”

It was then that he shot you a cocky grin. You were a little stunned by the degree to which it didn’t reach his eyes. “Why wouldn’t I be ok?” he asked, then spun back around on his heel and trudged up the stairs, leaving you to worry alone in his kitchen.

Join my Krismas Party!

Tag lists are open

@stargazingfangirl18 @drabblewithfrannybarnes @thezombieprostitute @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @bval-1 @km-ffluv @texmexdarling @ladyvenera @before-we-get-started @veltana @andydrysdalerogers @royalwriteroftheuniverse @whosana-maria @dancer3205 @ijustneedpopcorn @mrsevans90 @pekusofixus @i-can-do-this-all-dayy

#krismas party #ask kris #curtis everett x reader #curtis everett x you #curtis everett #snowpiercer #actor au #drabble #chris evans characters #chris evans fanfiction #i know i should know better #what if #kris wrote something

[autistic-skeletons]

Good Omens season 2 is about what religious trauma does to indoctrinated people, and here’s why.

so i finally watched Good Omens after my friends BEGGED me to ever since the first season first dropped and even though the ending stabbed me in the balls repeatedly for several hours i can’t help but marvel about how genius the ending really is and how crucial it is to both Aziraphale and Crowley as characters

i was hesitant to watch this show bc i was indoctrinated and conditioned by evangelicalism from birth (i’m literally the kid of two ex-missionaries and my dad was a chaplain for 36 years) and i knew that i could easily get triggered if i wasn’t careful.

i’m so glad i watched this show. there’s many reasons but i really just wanna talk about the ending of s2 aka The Divorce. it went entirely over my friends heads bc none of them grew up in the church but when i watched the ending it felt like i was watching pieces of myself at war with each other even though they didn’t want to be. to me, i was watching two people so broken by heaven and hell that they don’t understand that what they’re doing is hurting themselves more than it’s hurting each other. this is a pretty long ramble so i’ll continue under the cut

Aziraphale and Crowley are two halves of the same coin (literally soulmates) and are narrative foils to each other. obviously right, i mean, everyone noticed that. but what they truly represent in the grand scheme of things is the fallout of religious trauma. Crowley has seen the absolute Worst of heaven and the angels. he’s been outcast, scorned, and tortured for (assuming based on the opening scene of season 2) simply asking questions and questioning his faith. Aziraphale is the poster child of what a good angel is in the eyes of heaven and has reaped the benefits for millennia.

what is happening here is a war between two halves of a whole, Denial vs Bitterness.

as a young child it was drilled into my head over and over that my faith had to be as strong as a rock all the time or i would crumble like sand. i idolized all the bible characters and memorized all the verses and did all the good and right things i was supposed to. i was a standard in all the churches i went to, i was the example of what a good christian was, and i knew it.

then, over time, i began to see behind the curtain on what was really going on in the church and i was devastated. how could something based on love do all of that? why am i so scared to think freely? why do i feel like i can never be good enough? the more i questioned the more shame i felt and the more bitter i became, but i longed to go back to that innocence of being the best little christian kid in the church.

Aziraphale cannot truly comprehend the uncomfortable reality that what he’s been subscribing to all this time isn’t good for him. heaven has been hurting him for a long time and he doesn’t understand that. how can something he thinks is so right, so true, so good hurt him and his friends so much? no, it must be something he’s done right? it must be some bad apples right? the whole orchard can’t be bad right? he just has to fix this. he just has to make it better for him and for Crowley and then everything will be ok again.

Crowley can’t wrap his mind around why Aziraphale cares so fucking much. hasn’t he seen what heaven and hell have done? they barely stopped the end of the fucking world!!! they tried to destroy both of them with holy water and hellfire!!!!! they’re still trying to meddle in their personal lives after everything!!! why is Aziraphale so stubborn???? why does he choose something so asinine over him? Crowley has been there for Aziraphale a hell of a lot more than heaven has, can’t he see that?

both of them are hurting deep down into their very souls and they just can’t see it. that’s what religious trauma does to you. it strips you so bare of your personhood that without your religion, who are you? without your god, you’re just an empty shell. you’re nothing without “us”, without the church.

without Aziraphale trying and failing to fix heaven, he’s never gonna understand how corrupt of a system it all is.

without Crowley learning that Aziraphale is hurting just as much as he is, he’s never gonna learn that Aziraphale really had his best intentions at heart and just wanted to do what he thought was the good thing

without both of them realizing that they’re both wrong, they’re never gonna come together and really stand up for themselves and for their friends and for earth as a whole. without this grief, without this pain, without this separation, they’re never going to be truly free

and i, for one, cannot wait to see them kick some ass when they decide that enough is enough

#this show is so good i’m so glad i watched it #good omens #good omens season 2 #crowley #aziraphale #ineffable husbands #ineffable divorce #aziracrow

[sparklecryptid]

In the Maglor-has-a-son 'verse, combined with both the cousins and the two OC daughters of Maglor 'verses you've come up with - well. It occurs to me that if you toss Celebrimbor in there, you have seven grandchildren of Feanor. (Seven grandchildren. Seven sons. The years roll and the wheel turns, and stories loves a pattern.)

Caladion does not expect to have more siblings. He does not expect for Ruiniel to toss him over her shoulder in front of all the other smiths and carrying out of the designated smithing area to plop him in front of two women and the rest of his cousins and he most certainly does not expect for one of the women in front of him to be silent.

The Song does not join in harmony. It slides off of the dark, curly haired woman in front of Caladion like water falling from a seals back.

It’s annoying. The Song shouldn’t act like that. Everything is a Song. Everything sings.

This woman doesn’t. It puzzles him. It puzzles the ghosts on either side of him. Caladion remains silent and listens.

The table is silent as Caladion and the two women seize each other up.

Caladion makes the first move. A single note breaks through the air and coaxes Song from the woman. She does not speak. The Music does not come from her lips but from her soul as it stumbles and falters and reaches a harmony with the Song around her.

“Oh,” Anordil says and that’s her name, that’s his sister, “What - Why is everything so loud?” She turns toward the silver haired woman with scars on her lips as if to ask for help. “Is it always like this?”

“Most of the time,” the silver haired woman agrees, “You get used to it.”

Anordil groans.

Saeleth can’t help but laugh.

“Aw shit,” she cackles and Huan boofs disapprovingly, “Caladion, what did you do!” Saeleth pauses for a moment and studies Anordil. “Wait I know you.”

“No you don’t,” Anordil’s response is immediate, “You know nothing.”

“You’re the one that brought that stupid mortals keep down around him!”

Calemir and Ruiniel share a look.

Celebrimbor turns his head to the sky and despairs.

Caladion sips his wine with his forge gloves still on.

The other woman - Caladion’s sister the Song swirls around her like a sheathed weapon - shakes her head.

“Was that the time you almost got married?”

“He tried to marry me,” Anordil corrects, “I said no.”

“Rather adamantly it seems,” Ruiniel crosses her arms across her chest as she speaks. She looks mildly impressed. No small feat considering who and what Ruiniel is.

“Linavron brought an entire city to ruin! I think I can get away with destroying a keep or two!”

The table turns their gaze toward Caladion’s other sister.

Linavron sips her wine delicately.

“It was a city of slavers and other such things,” Linavron says with no ounce of regret in her voice, “They deserved it.”

Ruiniel blinks as if several dots connected.

“That city in south-east - Mor - the rebellion that was sparked - that was you?”

Linavron looks Ruiniel in the eyes.

“It was needed.”

Ruiniel tosses her head back and laughs.

Linavron turns her attention to Celebrimbor who doesn’t look uncomfortable but wary.

“I won’t turn your city upside down,” Linarvon says. She pauses a moment before adding. “Unless you need me to.”

“Thanks for the offer,” Celebrimbor says dryly and he reminds Caladion of Curufin in that moment, “I’ll think about it.”

Calemir shakes his head.

“I’m too old for this.”

The table pauses and everyone’s attention shifts to the two women who joined them.

“Who has seniority?” Calemir asks innocently.

Neither of them are expecting Anordil and Linavron to share a look.

Linavron shrugs.

“I remember the Sun rising for the first time,” she offers, “I suppose that makes me the oldest after Lord Celebrimbor.”

“Just Celebrimbor,” the man in question corrects, “We’re family.”

#maglor has a son au #asdkjalkhalfdjlk I LOVE THIS #anyway i also must add that this would be a totally deviation from canon #because the moment the others sense tyelpe in trouble shit is gonna go down #the moment Sauron oversteps his boundaries and attempts to harm tyelpe the others are on him #the cousins: let us be feral #gilgalad: no #the cousins: we’re gonna do it anyway. #gilgalad: then why ask for my opinion #the cousins: it would have been nice to have permission

[tiabritana]

For @softest-punk who’s hobhusband verse I read for the thousandth time today and got inspired. Here’s Hob meeting one of his in-laws

————————————————————————

It was one of the rare times that Death was able to get away from her busy schedule for more than a few moments, and Hob was not about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

They were currently the only two in the flat and were spending time together at the kitchen table drinking some local ale that Moira gifted him over the holidays when a thought popped into Hobs mind. He never really gave it much thought before-assuming that as with most things in the beginning- his gift was from Dream, and that was that. With the arrangement now, and knowing that prior assessment to be false, Hob turned to Death and pondered how to ask his question.

“Yes?” Death asked, seeing his stare.

“I was just wondering how I stayed the same age after all these years.” He started setting his mug down and playing with his fingers. “I just never really thought about it before, but your gift prevents me from dying, so how do I still look young.”

Death was silent for a bit, playing with her own mug, swirling the liquid around as she pondered his question.

“I never really thought of it much,” she finally admitted. “When I first made the wager with Dream, I just wanted him to see the beauty of humans. You all are-especially you-,” she paused and gave him a warm look, reaching between them to gently grab his hand from where he was still fiddling with them, “so full of life. I just wanted him to understand.” She stopped and shrugged, and Hob understood what she didn’t say. By now they all knew that Dream was in a bad place for a long time and was just starting to see that there was more to life than just his function.

“Anyway, if I had to guess I assume that Father had something to do with your preserved form.” She took back her hand to instead cup her mug and bring it to her mouth to take a long gulp.

Hob stared at the column of her neck admiring as he thought about what she said. He never gave much thought to the Endless parents as none of his spouses liked to talk about them. The closest being Delirium’s nonsensical musings about there being a black hole inside her sometimes, and the twins sharing a look.

“Why would he grant my body stasis- for lack of a better word?” He asked. His musings were starting to give him a headache the more he tried to wrap his head around the subject.

Death shrugged again, putting her now empty mug down. Hob pushed his half drunk glass towards her. He didn’t think drinking anymore would help with his burgeoning headache.

Just as she was finishing his mug, Death turnt her head and gazed off into distance with her ear cocked, listening to something Hob couldn’t hear.

“I got to go,” she said as she stood up. Hob got up and leaned towards her to press a chaste kiss to her cheek.

“I’ll see you later love.” And watched as her great wings took her off to her next appointment.

“She’s right you know.” Hob quickly whipped around at the sound of an unfamiliar voice in his now not so empty flat. Standing behind him was a young man with bright red hair-looking just like Destruction. Hob wet his lips, suddenly wishing he didn’t give Death his drink as the man changed forms into a wizen old man. He instinctively knew who was standing before him even though this was his first time meeting the being; and wondered if this had anything to do with the flat being on the border of the the Endless siblings realms.

The being-Time-circled around Hob, making him feel like a sculpture on display. He swallowed down his sudden feeling of inadequacy and smiled what he hoped was a welcoming grin. “Hel-,” he was cut off before he could finish the greeting.

“I suppose congratulations are in order.” His tone not giving anything away as he continued his perusal. Hob fought the urge to wipe his sudden sweat coated palms on his trousers, and instead met his father-in-laws eyes as he finally circled back to the front.

“I don’t like company, even from my own children, but I do keep an eye on them from time to time.” At the last part his lips twitch up, reminding Hob of Destiny when he managed to make him smile. His form shifted again, turning him into a small red headed child, though the intense look in his eyes didn’t change.

“I watched that day Death and Dream made that wager, and knew how important you’d be.” He stopped and stepped closer to Hob, his form shifting again to a baby, small tufts of red hair and a cherub face. Hob looked down and wondered how this didn’t even make it into his top ten list of weird things to happen to him in the last decade alone. “Imagine my surprise when the least likely timeline overwrote what the Fates had in store for Dream and changed Destiny’s Book.”

Hob swallowed, “uh-,” and once again was cut off from whatever he was about to say.

“Thank you.” The words were softly spoken as Time shifted again, his form now a middle again man with white streaking into his red hair and beard. He finally tore his eyes from Hob, who let out an inaudible sigh as the pressure he didn’t know was slowly suffocating the room disappeared.

When he looked back up, a shadow flashed over the man’s face making him look every eon he was. Hob blinked and the being was gone. As silence slowly descended he heard the knob on the door turning and Destruction emerged from the rain, red hair dripping and boots creating puddles in the entry way. He had shop bags in his great arms as he slowly looked a Hob’s gobsmacked face after shutting the door.

“You okay love?” He asked. He walked around Hob to deposit the bags onto the counter, but stopped and turned to face him again when he received no response. Setting the last bag down Destruction walked over to Hob and took his hands into his own larger ones.

That finally seemed to shock Hob out of his catatonic state. “I think your father approves of me.”

Destruction just stared at him as Hob let go of his hands and wandered the few paces to the kitchen counter to peak into the bags the redhead had left there. “What’s for dinner?” He asked unaware of the stunned expression his blasé response brought.

Needless to say, dinner was late after Destruction called his siblings and they all ended up talking over one another, save Destiny who sat on the couch with a small smile on his face as he read from his Book-Hob sitting beside him as he let his soothing presence help his now migraine- and handed him an aspirin and a glass of water.

#the sandman #softest-punk #Hob husband verse #hob gadling #dream of the endless #destiny of the endless #death of the endless #destruction of the endless #desire of the endless #despair of the endless #delirium of the endless #father time #ficlet #I guess I write now #dreamling #hob x dream #hob x Destiny #Hob x death #Hob x destruction #Hob x desire #Hob x despair #Hob x delirium

[inviiberu]

[MHYK] 2021 Proposal Lines

2021 Proposal Lines from all 21 wizards! Translation by me and proof-reading and some revisions of the western wizards lines by @amorest-viesse​

✧˖°Central Country°˖✧

Oz: Even time, which feels like an eternity, is finite. Think carefully about whom you want to be with in this limited time you have.

Arthur: “Will you make miso soup for me every day of our life?” …I hear this is a common way of proposing in your world. We don’t have miso soup here, but I think it’s wonderful that such a simple word can become a pledge of eternal love.

Cain: We lose our magic if we break a promise, but there must be some other power you gain by makin’ a promise to someone you love dearly. I hope that I can make a promise like that one day.

Riquet: I love you Master Sage! Um, if I may ask, which of the wizards do you love the most? …Huh, me? Ehehe~ That makes me so happy!

✧˖°Northern Country°˖✧

Snow: If I were to ever get married, I would like to say the line that the previous Sage taught me. Ehem. Sage, would you like a meal? Or maybe a bath? Or maybe… Hohoho~

White: Should we be reborn again, I hope to also spend my next life with you. …Hohoho~ That’s my favourite pick-up line. Did I make you swoon?

Mithra: If you love me, please make sure it lasts for a thousand years.

Owen: How foolish of you to ask a promise of me, just as foolish as love itself.

Bradley: Marriage, huh… I’d probably consider it if it were with the kinda guy I wouldn’t be able to live without. Well, it’s not every day ya find someone who’d love ya like that.

✧˖°Eastern Country°˖✧

Faust: You want me to teach you the most common ways to propose in this world? How should I know? I could teach you the most common curses though.

Shino: A proposal is an important line you only get to say once. I should think about it while I still can.

Heathcliff: To think that someone might propose to me one day... I've no idea when that could be, but I'm getting nervous already.

Nero: It seems like everyone's proposin' left and right today. Marriage ain't really for it a guy like me, but I suppose it wouldn't be so bad to live a peaceful life with the person I love.

✧˖°Western Country°˖✧

Shylock: We Western wizards are known for seeking pleasure and thrills. Thus, if you'd like, I would be glad to entertain you for the rest of your life... Am I joking, you ask? Would you like to find out?

Murr: Hey, Master Sage! Gimme a proposal! Huh? Why? 'Cause I wanna know what you'd say! C'mon!! Please?

Chloe: A proposal!? Ehehe, just thinking about it makes me blush, but I think it's wonderful to be able to tell someone how much you truly care. Someday, if I ever get the chance, I want to be able to confess with everything I've got.

Rustica: Have you ever proposed to someone, Master Sage? What did you tell them? We Western wizards are quite fond of love stories after all. Why don't you confide in me next time?

✧˖°Southern Country°˖✧

Figaro: What kind of confession would you like most, Master Sage? I'll tell you whatever you want to hear.

Rutile: “My eyes are like a lake of stars. I gaze at you with everlasting love” …Fufu, beautiful, isn’t it? That was a verse from when my mother and father met. I hope that, someday, I will find a love like theirs too.

Lennox: If I had a significant other...? Ah, I know. I'd like to protect them, so they'll never have to feel sad.

Mitile: I suppose my brother might get married someday, but I'm sure whoever his partner is, they'll be a wonderful person! Eh, what about me? Well, if I ever meet someone, I'll definitely make sure to propose to them in a cool way!

#mhyktl #mhyk #mahoyaku #mahoutsukai no yakusoku #mhyk oz #arthur granvelle #cain knightley #riquet ortiz #mhyk snow #mhyk white #mhyk mithra #mhyk owen #bradley bain #faust lavinia #shino sherwood #heathcliff blanchett #nero turner #shylock bennett #murr hart #chloe collins #rustica ferch #rustica ferucci #figaro garcia #rutile flores #lennox ram #mitile flores #woah that's a lot of wizards... #i had fun translating this!

[here2bbtstrash]

HI! I wanted to say I love your idol joonie one shot I enjoyed reading it it was amazing. If only the OC can be invited on tour and ride him backstage before he starts the show.

five minutes (explicit)

genre: smutty lil drabble!! and me popping my request cherry >:)

pairing: namjoon x reader

summary: your fuckbuddy has a graduation gift for you, but he might have overestimated your self-control.

this is a companion fic to my oneshot park and ride! read that one first if you want to get all the references, or don't, i'm not your mom

word count: 2.6k

contains: explicit sexual content~*~ idol verse, fuckbuddies, semi-public sex (aka a quickie in the green room), fingering, unprotected sex, dick-riding, dirty talk, squirting, a 3 second blowjob, joon's dick is still Very Big, ft. tiny cameos from JK and yoongi

A/N: remember when i said i would write this later, i LIED, i'm a LIAR, i wrote it NOW because i really liked the idea (and i was super bored while traveling). ask and you shall receive anon, i hope this is what you were looking for!!!! 💜

this is also on AO3!

~*~

You’re enjoying a quiet Friday night in, basking in the glow of not having to stress about homework for the first time in two years, when a familiar number pops up on your phone.

“So, how does it feel to be done with grad school?” You’re surprised to hear him ask. Maybe the bar is in hell, but his own schedule is busy enough, you didn’t think he’d have the brain space to remember yours, too. “I know you worked hard for it. I’m proud of you.”

“Yep, I finally got my stupid piece of paper.” You say dryly. “Maybe now I can actually get paid enough to get a new car.”

You swear you can hear him smile on the other end of the phone. “Pretty soon you won’t even need me anymore.”

“I thought we discussed last time that I keep you around for one specific reason.” You can’t help yourself. “A very big reason.”

Namjoon laughs softly. “Well, maybe this will help my case. I got you a graduation present.”

Now he’s surprised you twice in under a minute. “I– what?”

“Did you know we have a stop on this tour that’s right by you?”

You do know. The tickets had sold out in approximately four seconds, if your Twitter feed was any indication. You didn’t even try for one; you’re so broke you’d only be able to afford nosebleeds at best anyway, and the thought of being that close but that far from him makes your heart sink in a way you can’t quite understand.

“So I’ve heard. Am I gonna be your Uber driver again?”

“I probably won’t be able to get away, unfortunately.” He says, and you nod, leaning back against the cushions of your couch. Hearing that phrase never sucks any less, but you’re used to it. He’s a busy guy. Sex is nowhere near the top of the priorities list.

“But,” he continues, “I did get you a ticket, if you want it.”

The revelation shocks you, and your stomach turns a little. Better seats would be great, especially for free, but you have other reasons for not being an avid concert-goer.

Namjoon is an incredible performer, they all are, but the thought of standing in a massive crowd where people next to you are loudly obsessing over his thighs and his chest has never sounded particularly appealing. It’s not jealousy; you understand as well as anyone that he’s an attractive man, it’s just… it’s weird.

“Joon,” you start, with no idea how you’re supposed to phrase this. Who turns down a free ticket to a BTS concert?

“It’d be backstage in VIP, okay? I promise, the screaming isn’t so bad there.” Backstage? Your head swims. He pauses for a second, but can clearly tell you’re not convinced, and his tone softens. “I hated the thought of being so close to you and not doing anything about it. I really just want to see you, even if we can’t…” he clears his throat with a half-laugh. “You know, go for a drive.”

You absolutely do not feel like a VIP, but your heart jumps at the thought of seeing him before you can tell it not to.

“Okay,” you say. “I’ll be there.”

He can only chat for a few more minutes before he’s pulled away for the next thing on his schedule. After you hang up, you slide entirely off your couch and onto the floor in a daze, wondering what the hell you just agreed to.

~*~

It turns out attending a concert as a VIP guest is not that far off from your well-worn hotel ritual. You go through the familiar motions, flashing various people your ID and the badge around your neck, and you receive a security escort through the network of hallways that lead into the heart of the stadium.

At security’s direction, you hang a left, past a room where you see racks upon racks of clothes ready and waiting for quick changes, and you’re so distracted that you nearly collide into Jungkook. His eyes widen. “Oh, hi!”

You’ve met most of the members in passing– it’s sort of hard not to– but you’ve always had a particular soft spot for JK. It might have something to do with the time he voluntarily sexiled himself to Taehyung and Jimin’s room for a night so that Namjoon could invite you over. A true friend.

“Hi, Jungkook,” you say with a nervous smile.

“It’s good to see you! Namjoon said you were coming. He’s in the green room if you’re looking for him.” He gestures to a door at the end of the hallway, and you thank him as your pulse starts to race.

You gently push the door open and peek in. Namjoon is sitting alone at a chair in front of the vanity mirror, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his legs. He has headphones on, and his fingers are steepled, pressed to his lips. He’s clearly deep in thought, and a feeling washes over you like you shouldn’t be here, like maybe you should just turn around.

But then he glances over and sees you standing there, and his whole face lights up, those killer dimples on full display.

He slips his headphones off as you step inside; you can’t close the distance between the two of you fast enough. You loop your arms around his neck and he wraps his around your waist, and then you squeak as your feet leave the ground when he fully picks you up.

“Hi,” he says against your ear with a laugh, and when your feet make contact with the floor again, you push up on your tiptoes to kiss him.

Butterflies flutter in your stomach at the feeling of his lips on yours, his hands at the small of your back. Kissing Namjoon standing up doesn’t happen often, and it’s enough to give you a head rush.

His lips linger on yours as his hands travel gently downwards, and then he makes a noise of surprise against your mouth and pulls away.

“Oh my god,” he groans softly, pinching the fabric of your new favorite skirt between his fingers. “You did this on purpose.”

You can’t hide your wicked smile. “It’s possible. You did say you liked it, if I recall correctly.”

You lose your composure as his hands slip under your skirt to grab your ass. You inhale sharply, thankful that you’re alone. Namjoon’s mouth drops to your neck. “God, I wish we had more time,” he groans against your skin.

You should behave. The fact that you can see him and touch him should be more than enough, and you should just be grateful. But he really does make you insatiable. “I can be quick if you can,” you murmur against his ear.

His life-ruiningly big dick hardens against your thigh; you can feel every inch of it straining against the fabric of his pants, and you shift to grind your core against him.

“Fuck,” he hisses. Arousal floods through you at the notion of how close he is, the fact that only a few layers of clothes separate him from where you need him most. You’re already soaked, ready for all of him.

You hear a grunt and a shifting sound from behind you and nearly jump out of your skin, quickly leaping back to put some space between you and Namjoon. When you turn towards the source, you realize that you completely missed Yoongi, asleep on the green room couch.

Namjoon winces when you whip your head back to glare accusingly at him. “Sorry. I totally forgot he was there.”

You fix him in your gaze for a second, but you’re honestly too horny to stay mad. “To be fair, you were distracted.”

“Still am,” he grunts, running a hand over the front of his pants. You can only imagine the internet-wide panic that would ensue if he went out onstage this hard. The dick print blogs would have a field day. You’re frozen in place, ridiculously turned on but also starting to feel guilty for putting him in this predicament.

Namjoon crosses to the sofa, one hand slipping into his pants to tuck his erection into his waistband.

“Hyung,” he whispers, giving the couch a light kick.

Yoongi grunts again, but doesn’t move, eyes still closed.

“Hyung, I need the room for a minute.”

At this, he finally cracks an eye open. “Hmm?”

“Can you nap somewhere backstage?”

Yoongi squints at both of you as he slowly sits up. He looks pissed– although he kind of always looks like that, so maybe that’s just his face– but seems to realize he can get back to sleep faster if he doesn’t waste time on an argument.

He yawns as he shuffles out of the room, turning over his shoulder in the open doorway. “Just so you know, you’ve got like, five minutes.” Then he slams the door behind him.

Namjoon doesn’t waste even a second, instantly pulling you to him and finding your lips with his, tongue sweeping into your mouth. You let him guide you backwards until you’re pressed up against the green room door, and you hear the lock click.

His lips move to your neck again, his hands sliding up your thighs. “Can you do five minutes, baby?”

“Y-yes,” your answer turns into a whine as his hand brushes over your panties, and you spread your legs to give him more room. He pulls the fabric of your underwear to the side, and when he slips two fingers into your cunt, you both groan: you at the pleasure, and him at how little resistance there is when he pushes in.

“Fuck, you really want me, huh?” Namjoon practically growls into your ear, and you whimper open-mouthed as he curls his fingers inside you. He shifts and you can feel him pressed hard against your thigh, and your knees nearly buckle. “You want to take all of this?”

“God, yes.” You think you’ll die if you don’t.

He hesitates for just a second, clearly weighing some option in his head. Then he groans in your ear again. “Will you ride me, baby?”

You can’t even speak, but when he sees you nod, it’s enough. Pressing you up against the door, he lifts your legs to wrap around his waist, and then his hands move to cup your ass and pull you to him. He lifts you up and carries you like that across the room, his still-clothed erection grinding into your core. Your desire is almost painful now, you want him so bad.

He settles on the couch with you in his lap, and you lean forward on your knees so that he can fumble to undo his belt and pull his pants and boxers down.

There’s no time for the teasing you’re both so fond of, but you don’t feel like you could last a single second longer without him inside you. When you pull your panties to the side again so you can sink down on him, it’s fucking perfect, and you can’t hold back a moan of relief.

“Shit, baby,” Namjoon groans. His head drops against the couch and his hand is already on your clit in steady circles. The urgency just makes everything hotter.

You rock up and down along his length, and you’re so fucking wet that he easily bottoms out inside you, hitting the spot that makes you squeeze your eyes shut and gasp. Your arousal coils tight inside you, the pressure already building.

Namjoon’s fingers work you expertly, and he knows your mind just as well as your body. He knows the fastest way to get you to come is with his words, and he doesn’t hold back, his hips starting to rock up into you.

“You take my cock so well, baby, fuck. This tight little pussy was made just for me, huh?”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you whine with every thrust.

“Mine to have whenever I want, wherever I want. Always so fucking wet and ready for me, so desperate to take it all like a good girl.”

You whimper loudly in agreement. His cock, his hands, his voice, it’s all too much. He can feel your walls start to flutter and that only makes him thrust and circle his fingers faster, and your moans are nearly sobs now.

“That’s it, baby. Soak yourself for me. I want to feel you come all over my cock.”

“Oh, fuck!” You cry out as the pressure inside you swells and bursts, and you can feel the rush of fluid as it splashes over him and the couch beneath you.

Namjoon groans beneath you at the feeling, and you thank god he has the awareness and the strength to lift you up off of him, because it fully escaped you that he never put a condom on.

He strokes himself fast and hard, clearly just shy of his own end, and even now, you still can’t get enough. You drop to your knees on the floor and practically shove his legs apart so you can take him in your mouth, your cunt still quivering from the aftershocks of your orgasm.

“Holy shit,” he gasps as you bob up and down, sloppy and fast. When you swallow him down, gagging slightly, his hips buck against your mouth, and you take it all with a whimper as he comes down your throat.

You make sure to work every drop out of him before you pull off, sitting back on your heels and wiping at your mouth. You watch Namjoon as he collapses against the couch, breathing heavy and smiling wide. He runs a hand through his hair and looks down at you, clearly still trying to recover.

“You,” he says with a gasp, “are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”

You beam at the compliment, and you stand up on shaking legs, reaching down to awkwardly adjust your underwear back in place. At his request, you circle around him to assess the damage as he pulls his pants up. 

It occurs to you only in hindsight that attempting a mess-free quickie with a girl who squirts is quite the lofty goal, but there doesn’t seem to be any sign of it on his clothes. The couch cushion, however, was not so lucky. You both giggle at the wet spot as he wraps his arms around you and presses a kiss to the top of your head.

“I think we’re at five,” you murmur, but he tilts your jaw up anyway, his lips finding yours for one more kiss.

He reluctantly walks you towards the door. “I gotta go get my mic, but if you head backstage to the left, there’s a spot where you can watch the show.” He presses his lips to your forehead one more time. “I’ll make it a good one for you.”

You laugh as he opens the door. “I’ll be watching, so you better not fuck up the choreo!”

For the second time tonight, you nearly run face-first into Jungkook. “Ah, sorry! Is my phone in here?” He shoves past you both and lets out a sigh of relief as he retrieves it from the vanity counter.

You give Namjoon a final smile and then head towards backstage, but you’re still in earshot to hear Jungkook ask, “What happened to the couch? Hyung, did you spill something?”

You press your hand to your mouth to hold the laughter in.

The show is even better than you thought it would be, and though you might just be imagining it, you swear Namjoon’s hip thrusts are a little more enthusiastic than usual.

A/N: i wrote this in like 30 minutes (so it is quite literally a quickie on a quickie) so if this is slightly lower quality than my usual, don't roast me!!! but i had so much fun revisiting these two!! hope you enjoyed, would love a comment or review if you did 💜 and i'm always tentatively open to requests, tho i have very little control over what will spark the muse lol. ALSO I SWEAR TO GOD THE ACTUAL NEXT THING I POST WILL BE LDOMLT 🙈 thanks for reading!!!!!

#namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon x y/n #bts smut #bts x reader #fic request #anonymous #five minutes

[wings-of-sapphire]

Snow White rewrite

Hello loves, so I’ve been procrastinating this for a WHILE but I was like fuck it I’ll post what I have so far

Remember like fifteen years ago when I said I’d post my Snow White rewrite? Well, I want to get at least some of it out to get some traction going, especially since Disney’s live-action Snow White is coming out soon and I’m… intrigued to see how it goes.

Anyways, here’s my WIP rewrite— not finished, may be subject to edits later, I have reasons for what I’m doing trust me

Red as the Rose

A Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs rewrite (revamp? Idk)

Meet Snow Dysni.

Her stepmother is not the nicest person.

She’s never met her mother, as she died shortly after Snow was born, so she wasn’t exactly well-versed in motherhood knowledge. But she was pretty sure stepmothers aren’t supposed to kill you.

Some backstory.

Snow is the princess of the kingdom of Grimm. Grimmians are a wonderful people. At least, Snow assumes so. She hasn’t interacted with them much.

Her birth mother was allegedly murdered by an enchantress, and then her father sort of freaked out and banned all magic. All the neighboring kingdoms started to follow his rule, forcing all the magical creatures to go into hiding. Most fled to the Twists, a cursed forest full of the Wrathborne– nightmares come to life. Yeah. Magic, from what Snow has learned, isn’t the greatest.

But still, being cooped up in this castle all day isn’t really the life. Snow knew all the staff’s names by heart. But there’s no teens in the palace, and her only friend is this cat that roams the castle grounds sometimes. Snow named her Shanks. She brings Snow flower snacks sometimes.

It’s just meetings and being locked up in her room. Her stepmother says it’s unbecoming for a princess with such little social awareness to be among the people. Snow’s only meeting royals and nobles. Like today, a meeting with Isel, the eastern kingdom, and their prince, Florian White.

Snow talks with Florian. When he laughs, it makes something inside her bubble. Maybe he poisoned her.

Oh, no. He poisoned her!

The royal nurse clears Snow, though. I guess Florian can pass for now.

There’s also Huntsman, whose real name Snow doesn’t know. She tries to talk with him sometimes. He doesn’t really talk otherwise.

But one day, Huntsman tells Snow that he can sneak her out of the castle for a night. She agrees. Because obviously!

Huntsman takes Snow out to see the Grimmians. To see her people! Away from her stepmother. Queen Isla Grimhilde. Snow doesn’t know why her father puts up with her. She really doesn’t.

They end up in the Twists.

Snow asks Huntsman what they’re doing here.

He pulls out a knife and stabs her. Snow screams, blood splattering the floor. She hears a Wrathborne near, then something tackles the Huntsman. Probably. She can’t see anything, too blind from pain. White, searing pain. All she can think of is blood. Her blood.

Snow sees the Wrathborne fighting with the Huntsman. Snow gasps out in pain and starts to stumble away. She sees a cottage in the distance. She falls to the floor. She hears voices above her.

She passes out.

Snow awakens up to grumbling. Something about red on the sheets. She blearily opens her eyes. She see six noses poking out on top of the bedframe.

She tries to scramble up. Someone cries out. It took Snow a moment to realize it was her. Red-hot pain shoots up her back.

“Woah, woah, steady there!”

Snow stares at the man beside her. Er… child? Man the size of a child?

Oh. Dwarves!

“You’re dwarves!” she croaks out.

The dwarf laughs. He introduces himself as Doc, the eldest brother. He explains how their nephew found me outside, bleeding, and had to go, but notified Doc and his brothers about her. They treated her.

Snow tries to scream, but a hand claps over her mouth. Snow sees another dwarf in front of her. He looks like he wants her head.

“Quiet, lass! You’ll attract Grimhilde’s soldiers!”

“The heck I will! You’re illegal magicals! You should be arrested!”

“We saved your royal life! Show some gratefulness!”

Aaaanyways. The seven introduce themself. There’s Doc, the oldest and the kindest. Happy, who’s… happy all the time. Snow has a suspicion he may be on drugs. Grumpy doesn’t like her at all. Dopey— at least she thinks that’s his name… maybe it’s Mopey but that doesn’t seem right— is mute and signs. Snow unfortunately doesn’t know sign, so his brothers have to translate.

Uhhh there’s Sleepy. Mate, same. Sneezy… please stay away. Bashful Snow doesn't know much about, as he tends to stay away.

Apparently there was an eighth named Raspulstin or whatever… Snow wasn’t really paying attention. She’s too busy analyzing everything.

Magic was evil. Magic killed her mother. Magic is what creates the Wrathborne, the evil spirits of the Twists.

But these magicals… saved her.

#lol gonna edit the hell out of this later #idk #current wip #snow white #writing by sapphire #disney rewrites #snow white and the seven dwarfs #snow white and the 7 dwarfs #idk what I’m doing

[imichelle-l-rigby]

Reflections: Cillian Murphy’s Limited Edition

Season 3, episode 10

✨the last one 😢✨

———————————————————————

*I am a music prof (predominantly classical vocalist), and I LOVE listening to Cillian’s music choices! That being said, sometimes I won’t like a song simply because of a vocalist (it’s a professional hazard - sorry!) 👩‍🏫

** The following are my own observations/opinions. We may not agree, and that’s ok! That’s what makes music fun! 😊

*** I wouldn’t say I’m well-versed in Cillian’s music preferences, but I do enjoy them (for the most part). I always wind up adding to my own playlists after listening to Cillian’s recommendations.

———————————————————————

OMG IT’S THE LAST ONE!!!!

🎵Set 1 (Wandering Star - Undenied)

Wandering Star: such an interesting mix of “folksy” with urban sound effects

fun fact, I always accidentally mispronounce “Portishead”. Idk why I can’t learn, but there ya go!

Undenied: again, this is has a blend of soft and harsh sounds, but I like how it’s completely different from the first song. The timbres/qualities are different, so it’s a fun experiment in how far you can go with a musical idea.

🎤Talking Break

Last show 😭😭😭😭

“A total pleash”

WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT’S BEEN 10 YEARS OF CILLIAN MUSIC?!?!

I love that he’s embraced the word “ain’t”

🎵Set 2 (Someday - When I Go Deaf)

Someday: ok but I’m loving the harmonies in this cover version 🥰

When I Go Deaf: ok, but the premise of going deaf - YES SIR I DO MIND!!! *PSA please take care of your hearing* regardless it’s a beautiful song about growing older and cherishing the moment and all that you have. That being said, I LOVE when the music goes from folk to rock 🤘😎

🎤Talking Break

Yes Cill - go for all the favorites! Love it!

FINALLY some more Bowie.

🎵Set 3 (I Can’t Give Everything Away - Fame)

I Can’t Give Everything Away: this is not the soundscape I think of when I think Bowie. And I like the disjointed melodic line in the title motif.

Fame: what a classic 😎 now even if I’m not the biggest fan of Bowie’s voice, even I listen to this a good deal because it’s just perfect.

🎤Talking Break

The way Cillian goes insane over “Fame” - the only version of fame I think he’ll ever like 😂😅

Yay!!! A John Lennon quote!!!!!!

🎵Set 4 (Perfect Day - I Want You)

Perfect Day: why does the tonality of this song refuse to be stably in a major key? 🤔 I don’t necessarily consider that a “perfect day” association - the way it keeps mixing major/minor refutes the “perfect” quality. I suppose it’s just a “wistful” thing, but still!

I Want You: YES I LOVE EARLY DYLAN!!! This is prob in my top 5 fave Dylan tracks. It’s so heartbreakingly beautiful, simple, and earnest.

Fun fact: “Don’t Think Twice, It’s Alright” is my #1 Dylan song

🎤Talking Break:

Final reasonable question!!! 😢

I actually like this one - what song do you listen to on repeat?

Omg, of course he would listen to experimental loop music. 🤦‍♀️😅😂 ok, it’s official, he needs to join my music history class. 😂😂😂

🎵Set 5 (Jesus Going to Clean House - Ida)

Jesus Going to Clean House: ok, but can contemporary praise music be this groovy?? Please????

Let’s Go Swimming - Gulf Stream Dub: this sounds so water sports, and I have no idea why other than the name has convinced me this is music for the beach! 😅😅 the power of suggestion!

Ida: I can’t decide if it’s distorted accordion in the background, or a keytar or some other strange electronic instrument. I’ll have to do some research later!

🎤Talking Break

Exclusive ident - I shall miss you!

A poem!

No, Cillian, please make a dad joke!

Oh dear, I’m over 30. Let’s see how I respond to “forgetfulness”

… yeah. I agree 😬

An exclusive reading!

I really liked his thoughts on listening. Good selection!

🎵Set 6 (Coffee & TV)

Coffee & TV: I’ve said this before, but I find it odd that certain songs are produced in such a way that the vocals are subservient to the instrumental line. I think I hear this more in “alternative” sounding music. Maybe that’s a trend I’ve just never noticed!

🎤Talking Break

“Banal and unverified facts”

The way he says “palm trees” 😂 “pam trees”

🎵Set 7 (Saat Alfarah - Midnight)

Saat Alfarah: again, saxophones! Of course he loves this, and frankly, so do I! Idk what’s going on, but it’s got good vibes and it’s just fun! 😎

Midnight (ft. Raphael Saadiq): not my favorite, but it’s cool sounding, for sure. Also, when wearing my AirPods, the background pop sound almost seems like I can feel it reverberating through my skull. That’s weird.

🎤Talking Break

Irish music! Finally!

🎵Set 8 (Wishing Well - Satisfaction)

Wishing Well: it sounds all wishful/wistful, but the static buzzes definitely fight that.

(I Can’t Get No) Satisfaction: it’s a little mind-boggling because the vocals do NOT follow the beat established by the backing track. I assume they were recorded separately. I really hoped I would like this cover, but… nope! 🙅‍♀️

🎤Talking Break

“And that’s a cover version!” Indeed, Cillian. Indeed.

Last Yorkshire Man!

Wait… did he just not reveal his identity?! Did I miss something???

🎵Set 9 (Sweet Leaf of the North)

Sweet Leaf of the North: ummm… I must say I’ve never been that impressed about a leaf. 😅 I don’t love his voice, but the vibes are cute.

🎤Talking Break

A favorite band, and his kids agree!

🎵Set 10 (A Cold Freezin’ Night - Blackbox Life Recorder 2f)

A Cold Freezin’ Night: I can appreciate this as a quirky twist on “electronic sounds as music” + experimental music, and I even appreciate the interplay between siblings (as an older sister with a healthy rivalry with her brother 😂), BUT. not my favorite.

I’m glad he explained about the siblings beforehand, otherwise I would’ve been MAJORLY confused and concerned. 😅

Blackbox Life Recorder 21f: still following the “electronic sounds as music” theme, but less experimental 👍

🎤Talking Break

Yay new music!

🎵Set 11 (Lately - Blackpool Late Eighties)

Lately: I like this. Soulful, atmospheric, and groovy. Just a fun combo.

Blackpool Late Eighties: dude, what a build up!! It certainly keeps you wanting more!

🎤Talking Break

NO IT’S ENDING 😭😭😭😭😭

Aww, he “did have a little cry” over Nina’s song!

“Mind yourselves”

🎵Set 12 (Wholy Holy - Stars)

Wholy Holy: YES! YES YES YES YES YES!!! ✨favorite song of the episode✨

Stars: Nina. No, no you did not just GO OFF on the piano at the end there! Dang!! She is just too good! What a great way to end the show!

———————————————————————

YOU HAVE MADE IT TO THE END! CONGRATULATIONS! 🎊🎉

Thank you so much to all y’all who kept reading these - I hope you enjoyed it! It’s been a pleasure (although a significantly larger project than what I expected at first), but I definitely had fun!

Tag list:

@iammrsrogers @deliciousnutcomputer @mariamoonie @brownskinsugarplum76 @look-at-the-soul @kj-davis @neverroad @teapothollow @thepurplearmyposts @possessedmarshmallow

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy’s limited edition #bbc 6 music

[kujo1597]

It’s been a bit! But I suppose that’s normal for these. I did have a good reason for it taking so long this time. In the first episode recap or whatever you’d like to call these posts I said that I started doing them to get back into writing Unbreakable. Well! I’m done chapter 6!!! 🥳 Woo! Well… mostly done it. I have to like, write at least a couple verses for a song Stormer wrote and do my usual week of proofreading before I post it. But! I’m 99% done it!!!

Let’s celebrate my new spare time with an episode of Jem.

I had literally no idea what this episode’s title was. It completely escaped me for some reason. Why am I so confused by that?

Kimber’s my favourite character! How did I forget the episode with her name in it? I think the actual answer is that there are a couple episodes where Kimber’s rebelled and those ones were a little more of a meaningful rebellion. Especially the one that really kicked off my favourite Jem ship.

Oh by the way. I actually forgot that the last episode ended on the yacht being on a crash course with an oil tanker. I think part of why I don’t feel too bad about how densely packed my Jem fanfics tend to be is because the show itself covers a lot in each episode.

Let's get to it.

So the yacht almost crashes into the taker ship, Danielle’s crew manages to save the ship. Although the party guests get a little thrown around.

Jem included!

So… Is this how boats work? I grew up in a landlocked province; I didn’t even see the ocean until I was in my mid-20s. My family would go to a lake but it was small, probably too small for a speeding yacht. I don’t know boat physics.

Anyway, Rio pulls Jem back onboard.

And here is our first kiss between Jem and Rio. Jerrica got caught up in the moment and gave her boyfriend a kiss on the lips. But of course she’s Jem right now and Rio to his credit, pulled away and said that it’s wrong to cheat on Jerrica with Jem.

He’s not bad in these first few episodes!

With the crisis averted everybody makes sure Jem and Rio are okay, then they see the Misfits taunting them from their little speed boat. And Stormer does a Flim Flam as hell laugh. Sorry Sue Blu I love The 13 Ghosts of Scooby Doo so I associate this style of laugh with the lovable scam artist. Now that everybody’s nice and frustrated with the uninvited guests they decide that they need to start filming Jem’s first music video as soon as possible. Anthony says he’ll direct it, and the countess offers to fund the whole thing and fly everybody to Paris.

Kimber wanted to do the whole thing the very next day. But Jem being Jerrica is like, “Sounds great, but we need to actually record our album first.”

Now we cut to Starlight Mansion and the girls. Krissie says that Jem and The Holograms will be leaving in two days. Deirdre is pretty into the idea of Paris but Ashley sure isn’t. She’s pretty darn bitter about how everybody is talking so much about Jem.

Lela asks Ashley how much money she’s made for the Honor Jar (We’re almost done with this thing. So far I haven’t spelled it Honour Jar once.) and Ashley presents the $30 she got off of Stormer. But Lela explains the rules of the jar, you must say how you earned the money because the work is as important as the cash.

Ashley has a pretty understandable reaction. She’s new and feeling unwelcome. She’s been getting criticized a lot lately and reached her breaking point. Ashley throws the money to the floor and storms out.

Yeah she didn’t earn the money in a way that would be seen as “acceptable” but I feel like at this point Ashley feels like nothing she’ll do will be good enough for the people in this foster home. And who knows what her previous one was like. This could be something she’s been dealing with for years for all we know.

Time to watch Jem and The Holograms record their first album. The song playing is Twilight in Paris, I’ll say more about it after the actual music video.

Rio asks the band to tighten up the song and asks them if they can keep going. Jem tells him that they’ll keep at it until they nail the song.

Then we get an immediate comparison to The Misfits who are recording their album. Eric tells them to pick up the tempo, Stormer enthusiastically agrees to work at it. But Pizzazz and Roxy have very little interest in honing their craft.

Then Pizzazz complains to Eric that he’s not flying her group to a place like Paris. And Eric tells her that he can only embezzle so much money from Starlight Music before he owns it.

But he does fly Zipper to Paris in order to sabotage Jem’s music video.

After a quick pan over Paris we see Anthony going over the steps for the music video with Jem. Kimber gets jealous of Jem and storms off.

She starts heading towards Zipper and her first kidnapping of the show. But Rio catches her in time. And well

is pretty rough with Kimber.

Kimber’s frustrated and tells Rio to not play big brother with her. And then after a little fight she goes to tell Rio that Jem’s not so great because she’s actually Jerrica. Shana and Aja stop Kimber right in time.

Kimber points out that Rio has the right to know. And she’s right! And Shana agrees with her! But also points out that this is Jerrica’s love life so she should be the one to tell Rio.

After that scene Zipper looks up at the top of a skyscraper and sees the gargoyles and he hatches a plan.

I’m fond of the song Twilight in Paris. Not because it’s a great song. It’s really not, the music video is kinda neat. No. I’m fond of this song because the lyrics feel like Kimber was scrambling to think of stuff that has to do with Paris, and France in general. And I just love the mental image of that. Kimber scribbling in a notebook everything she knows about Paris and coming up with only four things, the Eiffel Tower, City of Lights, a location Jem sings that I can’t understand, and France being a romantic country. And that’s it. That’s all Kimber could come up with in a day. It’s wonderful.

After the music video we see Zipper’s plan in action. What is this plan?

Why crush Jem of course! Literally!

The gargoyle misses the mark though. Zipper is very good at his job.

Rio gives Jem a tight hug after her close call and she asks him to never let go.

Kimber’s not dumb and knows exactly who sent Zipper.

Time to get an update on the Ashley subplot. She runs away from home and to a bar frequented by the Misfits.

Stormer likes kids. I did a post about it. She sees Ashley at the bar, leans down to get closer to eye level and asks Ashley for her name, and if she’s in trouble.

Pizzazz leads Ashley into the bar and I highly doubt it’s because she likes kids. She probably just saw an opportunity to get at Jem. Or Jerrica. At this point she probably dislikes them equally.

Now we see the Misfits giving Ashley some life lessons. These lessons are the opposite of what Jerrica’s been teaching her girls. Be rude, be pushy, never thank people.

Back to the stars of the show, intended stars anyway, and they’re discussing things with Danielle. Kimber’s still jealous of Jem. I do like how Danielle calls Kimber “my petite.” It’s pretty cute. I think the countess likes Kimber.

After getting into the airport, whatever section this is, I’ve never been on a plane, Jem runs off to change. And we get our first instance of Rio’s pissiness. Aja reminds him that Jerrica is supposed to meet them at the airport and he blows past her to be all mopey. Jerrica’s disappointed that Rio took off.

Aja promises her that taking a look around town will cheer her up. However...

*laughs hysterically*

Oh, sorry. I just forgot how shitty this poster looks.

Um.

Okay, so while Jem and The Holograms were in Paris The Misfits were busy putting up posters advertising them. Or maybe Eric hired a bunch of people because Pizzazz and Roxy couldn’t be bothered. Either way, their faces are plastered all over town.

Song time! This is a pretty nice song complete with convenient hole for Pizzazz to climb out of. We see Jem and The Holograms along with some Starlight Girls running around town trying to hang up all their posters and just advertise their band in general. But they’re being sabotaged the entire time. And one of the saboteurs is Ashley.

Kimber sees this and she is not happy.

She confronts Eric in his office where he is writing directly onto his desk.

And Eric starts being creepy as hell! Stop it! Jesus. If Jerrica’s 18 then Kimber’s only 15.

Eric tries to butter up Kimber by saying that as the songwriter she deserves far more credit than she’s getting, that she should be star instead of Jem. And even offers to sign Kimber on without Jem. She doesn’t outright say no to the offer but she does leave.

Now to Starlight Mansion where we see Aja and Shana reading magazines, Kimber playing guitar, and Jerrica being bushed from all the work they’re been doing. Then the phones rings.

It’s Lindsey Pierce! She asks to speak to Jem and after filling her sisters in Jerrica speaks to Lindsey in the exact same tone of voice she normally speaks in and says, “This is Jem.” I can excuse Lindsey for not really caring because Jerrica is currently a nobody. But it’s just very funny.

Lindsey says that she only wants to interview Jem and she’ll do something with the Holograms at a later date. But when Jerrica tells Kimber that only Jem is invited to this interview Kimber yells and storms out declaring that she’s going to go solo.

Hey look, Kimber’s first cry of the show. Not counting the funeral. *adds this to the Kimber rarely cries around others pile* Don't worry I won't call attention to every time a character cries. I'm just putting these into my crying folder. That is a totally normal sentence I just typed.

After Aja and Shana try to comfort Jerrica she decided to make a phone call to Lindsey to insist that the entire band be on her show. And Lindsey doesn’t mind one bit.

With that mess sorted out it’s now time to sort out a different mess. Getting Kimber back. Jerrica knows her baby sister well and figures that Kimber’s driving aimlessly while listening to her favourite radio station. And heads there in the Starlight Express to ask the DJ to broadcast a message to Kimber. Jerrica figures she’d be too unknown to get any air time but Jem definitely would be allowed on the air.

They deliver their message and Kimber hears it and returns home saying that with no Jem there is no Holograms.

Rio pulls up and calls out to the group that they’ve got 15 minutes until air time. Jerrica tells her sisters to take the roadster while she rids with Rio in his van.

There’s a lot of vans in this show.

During the drive Rio tells Jerrica that he can’t be Jem’s manager anymore. That he’s afraid he’ll hurt Jerrica. And she insists that Rio keeps working for them because they all need him and he’s irreplaceable. Rio does give in because it does mean a lot to Jerrica that he stays a part of the team.

He did not appreciate Jerrica being pulled off to do more work for Jem, as shown by him shaking his head. Part of the problem probably was the fact that Jerrica got yanked out of their hug.

Live interview time! The Misfits see this and are not happy. They run out of whatever building they're in to put a stop to it.

So, before I started this episode summary I tried very hard to remember which Misfits song played in this episode. There’s a reason I couldn’t remember! There wasn’t one!

I like this song a lot. I find myself singing it on occasion. To be honest I generally prefer Misfits music and those are the songs that tend to get stuck in my head. But there are some Holograms ones I find myself humming and singing.

Boop.

What was I doing? Oh yeah, the interview!

At some point the Misfits picked Ashley up before arriving at the TV station. Last time we saw them they were hanging out in one of their houses. I think. It's unclear where they were.

Well, trying to get in with the Misfits name didn’t work so Pizzazz sent Ashley in. And Ashley distracts the guard by kicking him really hard in the shin.

Lindsey asks Jem and a really good question. Where did the name Jem and The Holograms come from?

I suppose an easy answer would be to say that it sounds cool and futuristic.

But before Jem can think of that explanation the interview gets interrupted by The Misfits. They’re their usual pushy selves and Jem stands up to them and insults them. Good for her! I like how this show isn’t afraid to have the protagonist be rude right back.

A quick tangent because my brain is funny. I listened to the Jem audiobooks a while back and was amazed by how completely rude Jem is in some of them. Not because she was being rude to Pizzazz, but because she was being rude to everybody. The show strikes a nice balance. Jerrica does get more patient with Pizzazz post-syndication but not a lot more patient, and in season 3 all that patience is gone. With good reason!

Back to the show, Lindsey sensing a brawl on her hands asks the station to cut to commercial. She informs the Misfits that she was planning to invite them onto the show for an interview too, but now she doesn’t want to.

The Misfits demand equal time and that they get to play a song so they take the instruments on stage. But Jem isn’t having any of this and pulls Aja’s guitar out of Stormer’s hands.

Lindsey’s had it. She asks the men on the set to escort these ladies off of the set.

And we get our first slap of show. Pizzazz tells Lindsey that her show isn’t classy enough for The Misfits.

Rio is one of the people dragging the Misfits away. He grabs Pizzazz and she makes an offer to Rio, that he should work for her. And Rio turns her down. So Pizzazz elbows Rio in the gut sending him careening off into some equipment which causes a domino effect putting Jem’s life at risk.

A fire breaks out and that is where the episode ends.

A lot of fire in this show.

And well, now you see what I mean when I say that Jem is a densely packed show. A lot happens in it. Part of why these first five episodes are like this is likely the nature of the original release of them. But wow, this is a lot to take in. Imagine being a kidling trying to keep up, watching the shorts once a week. What if you missed one? You’d be so lost!

The next one of these should get done a lot sooner than my current pace. I'd like to finish the opening five episodes before I finish writing that dreaded wedding I promised.

#Jem and the Holograms #Kujo Watches Jem #I was originally not going to put these in the main tag but they seem to be pretty well received so I'll keep doing it

[presidenthades]

I am doing very minor revisions of Daemon’s Handbook (mostly formatting and continuity errors), and I wanted to do some behind-the-scenes commentary before too much time passes and I forget my original thoughts. Here’s Chapter 7!

(Note that these commentaries aren’t canon to the verse until/unless the author writes them into the series. I might change my mind on a few points later, but these are the thoughts I had while writing.)

If I had to pick a favorite chapter to write, it’s this one. It’s the first post-time skip chapter, so we get to behold all the children (now young adults) in full horny mood.

Also, Alyssa develops a personality, and BOY is it a personality. I originally planned to make her a female version of Aegon III, who is very quiet, but it occurred to me that a hellion would be more fun (and torturous for Daemon, which is the real goal in this fic).

Aegon and Aemond are supposed to return directly to King’s Landing and wait with their family to receive the Dragonstone party, but Aegon decided he couldn’t wait to see Jace again and Aemond only required mild convincing to go along. And yes, the boys took a bath first in some river so they look nice and groomed~

One of Jace’s biggest character quirks is anxiety. She has ALL the anxiety. Comes with being an eldest sibling and second in line for the throne. I don’t consider her shallow, but she perceives her appearance as an important part of her political and social toolkit because the society they live in puts a lot of stock in appearances, especially women’s. So she’s finicky about looking the right part for every occasion. (Also she wants to look nice for her husband whom she hasn’t seen in three years, nothing wrong with that.)

I made Luce a knitter, partly because I’m a knitter and I like incorporating my interests, and partly because I wanted to give her a textile craft that wasn’t embroidery. I hope I’m not being too biased when I say that in this era, knitted products (like socks) are more useful than embroidered products (like fancy handkerchiefs). The practical value of knitting, and it being an acceptable craft for ladies even if it’s not as popular as embroidery, seemed fitting for Luce, who isn’t super conventional but also not a complete rebel. I also really like the imagery of her sending flowery socks to the Stepstones for Aegon and Aemond and Grandpa Corlys to wear.

Daemon is fit for his age, but he’s in his 40s and he’s got a lot of old battle wounds, so chasing around toddlers is fairly strenuous. Also, toddlers are FAST. Alyssa is closer to three than two, and she’s spent her entire life trying to keep up with her older sisters, so she’s got a fairly good sense of balance and isn’t stumbling around as much.

“Pretty girl” is 100% Aegon’s pet name for Jace, and I’m using it gratuitously in one of the sequel fics, which is Jace and Aegon-centric. (I’ll have an update soon on what I’m writing next, but I’ve decided to break down the epic longfic idea into multiple, more manageable mid-length fics.)

Aemond thinks Alyssa is spooked by his eyepatch and scar at first, but she’s actually falling in love at first sight. 😂 She’s got heterochromia so she probably *likes* that his eyes aren’t symmetrical either.

Aegon and Aemond are no longer afraid of Daemon! They’ve seen a lot of shit in the Stepstones, so their middle-aged uncle seems like less of a big deal now. Poor Daemon.

Aegon and Aemond are currently 18 and 16, so I made their stomachs black holes like most teenaged boys. They also have been eating a lot of rations at the Stepstones, even as royal princes, so a “plain” meal at Dragonstone seems awesome.

I have nothing to say about the melons, except that I’m very sorry for Lucera 🥲

Idk why but there’s something about Jace being very dutiful and proper that attracts messy rebels like Aegon and Baela. Opposites attracting, maybe? Kinda like how Luce is on the wilder side but Aemond is super put-together. I’ve thought about a crackish scenario where Viserys messes things up (as usual) and betroths Jace/Aemond and Luce/Aegon. I think Jace and Aemond would get bored with each other while Luce and Aegon might accidentally kill each other.

Jace and Aegon know their siblings are being stupid about their feelings for each other. Jace tries not to meddle (she doesn’t like it when Daemon meddles so she resists the urge), and Aegon makes fun of Aemond in the half-hearted hope it’ll goad Aemond into doing something.

I like to imagine that Luce eventually invents double-entry accounting in this universe. I also think she’s a big fan of the abacus, which is a more visual way of keeping track of numbers. She also likes charts and graphs in general.

The three dragonglass daggers that Luce orders from the blacksmith are for her, Jace, and Joff. (Luce loves all her sisters, but she has a special place in her heart for the three of them who are full-blooded sisters.) Purple for Jace (royal color for the future queen), green for Luce (like the sea and Velaryon colors), red for Joff (Targaryen color, nice and bloody). She isn’t expecting her sisters to use them as weapons; she wanted to make a gesture before Jace’s official wedding, since it marks a huge change in their lives.

I keep describing Luce and Aemond’s relationship in this fic as Pride and Prejudice-esque, and I stand by it. Miscommunication, ego issues, awkward flirting, a failed first proposal. One commenter described Daemon as the anti-Mrs Bennet, trying his best NOT to let the girls marry. 😂 And if we keep the analogy going, Clement Celtigar is Mr Collins while Otto is the closest thing we have to Lady Catherine de Bourgh.

I established in the beginning that Daemon is very bad with feelings. This scene where he tries to comfort Baela is part of his character arc and emotional growth, but he stumbles a few times more before the end of the fic.

I am very pleased that so many readers pinpointed Joff/Daeron as black cat and golden retriever energy, because I was definitely going for that. Daeron spews a lot of word vomit in his one line of dialogue, but you might notice he mentions “I got that thing you really wanted.” See the final scene in Chapter 11 for “that thing.” 👀

Jace is making PR a priority in her reign (and before her reign). She’s observed how loyal the Dragonstone smallfolk are to the Targaryens and wants to spread that loyalty to the realm’s smallfolk in general. This is why she and Aegon do the flight into the city, and why she has her Princess Diana moment on the way to the wedding.

#my writing #hotd #house of the dragon #hotd fanfic #meta #hotd fic #house of the dragon fanfic #daemon’s handbook

[writtenobsession]

The Blind Man’s Folly

Gale x Tav?

Summary: Fem Tav, who has been chasing after Gale, finally decided to move on after being hurt one to many times. Modern AU

A/N: I literally wrote this in a sleepless night. I just want this off my chest. I have to listen to music to try to sleep, but got inspired instead. I’m not sure about this, but take it as it is. I don’t think I’ll back to this. Wrote this in my notes app.

Words: Unknown, I wasn’t keeping track

Tav was excited for the evening. It was supposed to be a monthly movie night with Gale and Tara, but he got a call halfway through the movie. Tav heart dropped a bit. She sighed and told him to answer it. He got off the couch and walked into the hallway. He was gone for just a few moments and came back with his cheeks flushed.

“I’m sorry Tav, but I have to step out for a moment.” She glanced at the movie then back to him.

“Will you be long? It was getting good.”

“I shouldn’t be more than an hour?” He slowly inched his way towards the door before she waved him off.

“I promise to make it up to you.” He said as he quickly dipped out the door and locking it behind him. His apartment fell silent. Tav turned towards Tara sleeping in her armchair.

“It’s just you and me again, huh?”

Tara’s ear twitched in acknowledgment. Tav pulled her notebook from her bag and jotted down her thoughts of the day and her crushed feelings. This wasn’t the first the she’s felt her heart break from Gale. He’s been doing it for a little over two years, but she couldn’t bring herself to move on. She loved the spark in his eyes when he could talk about his favorite subjects or it was smile he gives her when she eats his cooking that she loved, but it was getting harder.

She set her notebook on the coffee table glanced at her phone. An hour had passed, but not a word from him. She hesitated for a moment before settling on calling him. It rang for a moment before it was sent to voicemail. Hearing his voice hurt a bit, but she wasn’t surprised. She set her phone down and curled up before pulling the blanket off the back of the couch, trying to feel some comfort. Her mind feeling a bit cruel, she reminded herself of a song she’s heard plenty of times. Breaking the silence of the apartment, she began to softly sing out the sad lyrics, “Feeling kind of sick tonight.” She was lost in the lyrics, feeling the sting of every verse that described her love life to a T. Reaching the end of the song, she felt her voice start to strain. “Let you break my heart again.” Instead of silence taking over once more, her soft crying was the last thing she heard before drifting off to sleep.

The next moment, a gentle shake wake Tav. Through blurry eyes, she sees Gale. He looks down at her with such sad eyes and apologizes. He looks disheveled, like he didn’t get any sleep. “Tav, I didn’t realize,” he thought about his next words, but couldn’t come up with anything, “I’m sorry.”

“What do you mean?” Sleepy and confused, she raises herself and tilts her head to the side. The blanket she used slide off her shoulders. She rubbed her eyes and looked him over. Her heart stopped.

Whatever words said after didn’t matter to her, all she could hear or see is the evidence from last. It was written all over him, from the wrinkled clothes to his swollen lips. He still loves her. Mystra won again.

There will never be room in his heart for her. She picks up her phone and sees it’s almost 7am. He left her around 11:30 and promised he’d be right back. Another lie she happily accepted.

“I heard your voicemail.” Dread filled her. She didn’t even realize she never hung up after she called him. Mentally kicking herself, she gripped the blanket she wrapped herself trying hide herself and to regain any sense of comfort. She couldn’t look at him right now, it hurt too much. He carefully sat on the couch next to her. “Tav, please look at me.” He pleaded. She just shook her head. “Will you at least listen to me?” She stayed silent and listened.

“I’m so sorry for everything. I never realized you felt that way.” He hunched over and looked at his feet. “I wish you would’ve told me sooner, I wou-“

Tav’s soft voice interrupted him, “Five.”

“Excuse me?” He raised his head to look at her, just to see her tear filled eyes looking back.

“I’ve told you how I’ve felt five times since I’ve known you.” Her feelings were everywhere. She wanted to feel hurt and angry, but sadness took over. “But every time it was over shadowed.”

“What do-“ Again, he was interrupted.

“Gale, are you truly that blind?” A tear rolled down her cheek. “She’s still the only person you talk about, probably only one you think about too. You’re not over her, far from it. You always jump at the chance to see her.” Her voice started to waver.

“Tav, I’m sorry. Please let me make this up to you.”

“There’s nothing to make up, Gale. You still love her and I’m not her.” Tears start to roll down her cheeks faster. “I can’t keep doing this.” She removes the blanket off her shoulders and stands up. She takes a deep breath and looks him in the eyes. “Does knowing my feels change anything for you?” Silence fills the room. Gale couldn’t manage to say a word. He looked helplessly into her eyes. She gave him a weary smile, “There’s my answer.” She gathered her stuff in a hurry and headed towards the front door. Gale realizing what’s about to happen, he scrabbles to catch her. “Please wait!”

She turned to him and frowned. “I’m done waiting.” The door closed behind her.

Gale stood there for a moment just staring at the door. He was arguing back and forth with himself. He heard a meow coming from the living room to see Tara sitting on the coffee table.

“I’ve really gone and done it, haven’t I?” He turned to couch and sat down with his head in his hands. He sat like that for a moment before Tara meowed once more. Looking up at her, he noticed a notebook next to her. He grabbed it and something fell from its pages. A small Polaroid picture of them. He remembered when Tav bought the camera and wanted to show it off. Flipping over the photo, he noticed she wrote, “One day,” with a small heart and the date. It was over two years ago. She had been chasing after him for so long, but he was too blind. He shot up from the couch and rushed out the door. Running down the early morning streets, Gale searched for any sign of her. A hallow pit grew in his chest, as if he just lost something.

“Tav!” He shouted, looking around in hopes for her head to turn his direction, but only got strange looks from people walking by. If desperation hadn’t taken over, he would’ve felt some form of embarrassment. “Tav!”

He stood there for a moment before moving on to the next street. He continued his search for her, yet it was the same result. Defeated, he made himself return back home.

Walking through the front door, Gale was was greeted by ghosts of the past. Memories of them sitting on the couch goofing around, Tav at the table gushing over food he just made, and her asleep on the couch with Tara sleeping on her chest. He never realized how empty his apartment was really until she left. He looked at his phone and dialed her number. He listened to each rang before going to voicemail. “Tav, it’s me…I’m probably the last person you want to hear from, I’m sorry for everything. When you’re ready, call me back…bye.”

Days turned into weeks, yet Gale hadn’t heard a word from Tav. It’s as if she disappeared off the face of the Toril. Astarion and Shadowheart won’t tell him anything and Karlach only gives him a , “She’s fine,” answers, but nothing more. Guilt and worry has been gnawing away at his soul and it’s been showing in his appearance. His beard looked unkempt, dark circles started to become more evident on his face, and his clothes seem to be just thrown together, no care put into his outfit. Astarion had enough of the sorry state and invited him to grab a drink at the Elfsong.

Later in the evening, Astarion, with little details as possible, told Gale what was going on with Tav. That she needed time to mend her broken heart for the last time and that seeing him was too much right now. Hearing that, it hurt him.

“Astarion, was I…,” He thought his next words for a moment.

“An idiot? Definitely.” Astarion took a sip of his wine.

“I was going to ask if I was that blind about everything.” Gale sighs.

“Well wisdom was never your strong suit.” Astarion set his glass down and looked him in the eye. “But I didn’t call you out here just to point out all of your obvious flaws. Gale, what’s going on in that pretty little head? I’d say you look like the dead, but I even have standards when it comes to my appearance.”

“I’m not sure honestly. Since the whole Tav situation, I feel like I’ve lost a spark and I just feel like my chest feels empty. Just like when Mystra left me.”

“By the Gods, Gale! You’re a damned idiot! All it took was for her leave for you to realize that you had fucking “feelings” for her?!” Astarion glared down at the man. “We’ve tried so hard to get you to realize that for the past year, but now her heart is good and damaged you suddenly-?”

Astarion cut himself off, realizing he raised his voice loud enough that other people’s eyes were on them before the pain in Gale’s eyes, Astarion pinched the bridge of his nose and tries to calm down before continuing. “I’m sorry, that was uncalled for. Gale, we’re just worried about you.”

Gale faces towards the door of the bar, trying to hide his deception. “I appreciate the sentiment, but I’m truly fine. I just need to -“ Gale stops mid sentence, watching the couple walk through the door. Astarion follows his gaze just to see Tav with Wyll, laughing at whatever was just said.

“Shit.” He whispered under his breath, but Gale didn’t acknowledge it. He just stared at them. She looked so happy. The sight was like a knife to the heart.

“Gale, are you okay?” Concern started to fill Astarion’s voice.

“I love her,” he finally admitted, “and I have to let her go, for her sake.” Looking down at his drink, let out a soft sniffle. This wasn’t going to be easy, but he knew if he wanted her to happy it had to be done. For now, he’ll use this night as a starting point to move on.

#I just want to point out that I was up for 24hrs when I wrote this #whatever inspiration I had left just like Tav #I didn’t think I was gonna write for Gale first but here I am #Please don’t look into this too hard #gale bg3 #gale fanfic #baulders gate 3 #gale of waterdeep #Spotify

[thefvllsun]

nct dream series

❥ nct dream - bitch hunters

actual name: bitch hunters

synopsis: huang renjun, lee jeno, lee donghyuck, and na jaemin are determined to have girlfriends by the end of their college years, but that’s easier said than done when they’re known as the biggest players on campus.

❥ nct dream - "Hot Sauce"

actual name: hot sauce (m)

preview: “Why don’t you just fuck all his friends? If he really was that heart broken over you moving away back then, he’ll go mental.” you friend suggests. You stare into the screen, swiveling back and forth in your computer chair.

“Have you seen his friends? That would be too easy..” you smirk to yourself toying with the idea.

❥ "그래 wulf, 내가 wulf"

actual name: into the wolves den

preview: [★]; TWO BOYS. TWO UNIVERSITIES. TWO RIVALING TEAMS. And then there's you, stuck weightlessly in the middle of it.

The time left on the clock is running out— and soon, you're going to have to pick a side.

❥ Boom

actual name: boom (m).

preview: “Here it is, high end hybrid shop in the heart of Gangnam. A couple of us should go check it out, get an idea of price and stuff.”

“I’ll go, I am the most well versed in hybrids. You idiots will end up picking the first one that flirts with you.” Renjun skims Jaemin’s phone, nodding to himself.

“Make sure you steer clear of bunnies. I’ve watched a few videos.. they’re hot but insatiable all the time. Heats are insane.”

Renjun waves him off, familiar with bunny hybrids sex drive. He knew better than to purchase one, at least he thought so.

❥ “camp half-blood” - starring 00 liners

actual name: demigods.

synopsis: summers at camp half-blood are never dull—especially when there’s a cute boy at every corner.

❥ “water. earth. fire. air”

actual name: master of all elements

synopsis: y/n, a waterbender of the northern water tribe, has been named the new avatar. she must master all of the elements in order to keep the peace of the four nations. which path will she choose first?

❥ “Dive into You”

actual name: dive into you (intro.)

preview: “Who is that?” You ask Mark. Eyes lighting up watching the boy- the man in conversation with the pastor.

“Oh.. that’s Haechan. The pastor’s eldest son.” Mark follows your line of vision with a sound of disapproval. “Don’t bother with him. He’s bad news.”

❥ spellbound

actual name: spellbound (series)

synopsis: When it comes to spells, you think it’d be simple: follow the steps in the book, use the correct ingredients and boom, magic... WRONG. Anything can happen and it’s just your luck that your mistake drags seven unsuspecting souls into the mix, as well as yourself, and sends them off to parallel universes where everything is much different than it’s supposed to be.

Instead of sidewalks and cars, there’s forests and fairies. Lampposts are replaced by the blinked red eyes of vampires and the howling of werewolves sends chills down your spine. Sirens lure innocent sailors to their demise while ghosts wreak havoc and and demons possess the living. It’s absolute chaos, and you have no idea what to do to reverse the spell or how to get home, but maybe one of these seven newcomers who came here with you might be able to help.

❥ playing field

actual name: playing the field

synopsis: well-known athletes in their college and respective fields, the members of dream struggle to find love that's genuine. they play the field of available suitors in attempts to get laid despite their demanding practices and lonely hearts.

❥ 00’ line at hogwarts

actual name: a hogwarts collection

❥ 7 boys

actual name: Midnight Memories 💫

synopsis: don’t know where you’re going but you want to find your way? look no further. 7 boys, 7 different stories. this is midnight memories.

#recommendations #renjun #mark lee #jeno #jaemin #haechan #nct dream #chenle #park jisung