#setting up a trap for half-foots to trigger with this post

[frankenfran]

when i inevitably see chilchuck cosplayers in real life im going to effortlessly pick them up and toss them like pawns in dragon's dogma with no repercussions on account of half-foot discrimination. disarm these nuts old man

#setting up a trap for half-foots to trigger with this post

[jewishcharliebradbury]

long dean/cas fic recs

here is THEE masterpost of long-af fics i’ve been promising!

fics are organized by length from shortest to longest, starting at 50k words 

they’re a mix of au’s and canonverse (mostly canonverse since that’s what i typically prefer)

i’ve added ratings, official descriptions, and my own supplementary description/notes/notable trigger warnings if neccesary

asterisks are added to my fave fics

this list will probably be updated with additions in the future, i’ll mark any new ones by bolding the text (last updated: 10/09/21)

all rec posts

Long Fics (50k to 80k):

Though The Course May Change (explicit/51k)

After a couple who went missing several years ago from an Oregon couples retreat are mysteriously returned on the same night that another disappears, Dean and Charlie plan to go undercover to find the cause--until Dean's foot meets his mouth, and he finds himself fake-engaged to Castiel instead.

(accidental) fake dating case-fic set in an alternate s9. cute, funny, has interesting monster of the week.

Teaching Poetry to Fish (mature/52k)*

In which Castiel teaches poetry to fish. Also, himself. Also, eventually, Dean.

(A series-long story, diverging slightly from canon after S14.)

really good cas pov/lore- heavy fic! feat. many fish and actual poetry.

any port in a storm (mature/53k)

The angels have fallen, leaving Castiel graceless and Dean with, well, more of other people’s problems. When a string of couples goes missing on the east coast, Dean and Cas decide to investigate—and find themselves trapped and hunted on a couples’ counseling cruise. Although battling monsters at sea is dangerous enough, sorting through emotional baggage proves to be far more deadly. (And, in which Cas embarks to find his missing grace and Dean is put out. Not necessarily in that order.)

alternate s9, fake dating case fic set on a cruise ship for couples going though rough patches. they have to talk their shit out while cas still adjusts to being human and tries to figure out what metatron might be up to.

ascend (mature/53k)*

Something in the world is wrong.Demon activity is rising where mysterious black substance oozes and unusual ecological events are shaking the world. Dean, grief hanging on his shoulders, restlessly searches for answers that might lead him to the Empty… and to Cas.But what Chuck wrote can’t be undone. The narrative thread pulls Dean along, forcing him to comply. Because once a story already has an ending, it can’t be rewritten.

Or can it?

EXCELLENT fix it/saving cas from the empty fic.

Twas In Another Lifetime (One of Toil and Blood) (explicit/53k)

Ouroboros is a town where the hills whisper sins and trees snatch up kids. It takes a certain kind of grit to brave the heat waves and the shadows that haunt every crossroads. Dean Winchester has cut his teeth in the magic dusted soil, made a life for himself away from the fae that lurks among the humans. When Sam leaves in the middle of the night with no promise of returning, however, Dean’s life turns upside down. He turns to the only fae he’s come to trust, a man with sapphire eyes who goes by the name of James.

Dragged into the magical world around him, Dean now finds himself as the caretaker for James’ half-human, half-fae son, Jack. Dean and James grow closer despite the West’s old secrets and the Fae’s older magic. In a struggle against old fears, longing for family, and desperation to save his brother, Dean must learn to trust what destroyed his father.

magical realism-ish, western-ish au where demons and angels are the fae instead.

The Prophet Must Die (mature/54k)

"What about Castiel? He seems helpful... and dreamy."

Something about the comment just isn't sitting right, and Dean's jaw twitches. He stares at the wall in the dark, and at a quarter past four in the morning, it hits him.

"Asshole," Dean hisses under his breath, sitting up straight, "that sonofabitch kept publishing."

s8, dean finds the supernatural books online and has some Realizations™.  does some pretty clever stuff with established prophet powers and lore. 

Games of Skill and Fortune (teen/54k)

Turns out, time-sharing your brain with a half-crazy archangel nursing a solitaire addiction is even less fun than it sounds.

(In which Dean kicks out one Michael only to go looking for another.)

to keep au!michael from destroying heaven dean becomes the vessel for the og michael, who is not only extremely weak and traumatized from his time in the cage but also has annoying habits like gambling, les mis stanning, and berating dean for leading on his little brother. interesting heaven/angel lore, good michael chara developement.

Tall Grass (explicit/57k)

“I think we should have a garden,” Cas says.

Dean looks up from his beer. He hasn’t had that much to drink, but Cas still has a vague look of unreality about him, a splash of living color that doesn’t fit in the bunker’s echoing stillness. Dean didn’t hear him coming. A lot of the time, Cas is so unobtrusive it feels like Dean has the bunker to himself, with Sam away.

Dean shakes his head to clear it. “A — garden?” he repeats.

cas becomes thee ultimate plant dad. featuring the wayward sisters gang, cathartic character growth, fun oc’s, domesticity, and lots of actual fun botanical facts.

Plain Language (explicit/57k)

Charlie sets her beer down hard on the counter, making him flinch. “Are you trying to invent a problem?” she asks incredulously.

“What? No, dude, I’m telling you—”

“Your boyfriend turned down sex twice, once because you were concussed and your arm was broken, and once because he was about to drive out of state to help your brother,” Charlie summarises, brutal and unrelenting. “And you think that, what? You can never ask him for sex again because of that?”

Dean’s been playing catch-up his entire life, and he’s still figuring out the whole “asking for what I want” thing.

s12-ish au, dean and cas are an established couple but are still, well, not that great at the whole communication part of it

A Judicious Application of Free Will (explicit/57k)

Dean lives the simple life in Lawrence, running the family business at Winchester Hardware. When Castiel moves into the neighborhood, they strike up a friendship that has the chance to become something more. But before that can run its course, the secrets of Castiel’s past catch up with them both, and their whole world changes.

a very old-school, canon-divergent disguised as a full-on au fic. 

Emergence (explicit/58k)*

Something’s been missing from Dean’s life for the past three years, a void left after a hunt gone terribly wrong. He often feels a sense of longing with no discernible cause, a need to talk to someone who isn’t there.

A call from an acquaintance leads Dean to James Novak, a man who disappeared more than a decade ago, and suddenly Dean gets the feeling he’s found what he’s been missing. But James isn’t really James — he’s the angel Castiel, who’s wanted by angels, demons and hunters alike. And he may be at the center of the storm that wrecked Dean’s life all those years ago.

after s11 dean, sam, and eileen have their memories of cas mysteriously erased. three years later they run into a man they only recognize as their friend claire’s long lost father, but dean soon begins to realize that he might be the key to understanding the strange void in his memories and feelings. tw for torture aftermath.

To Mend The Cracks With Gold (explicit/59k)

After almost losing Charlie to the Stynes, and almost losing Cas in the fight that follows, Dean Winchester is ready to do whatever it takes to rid himself of the Mark of Cain. But when the solution turns out to lie in unfinished Winchester business - shutting the gates of hell - Dean begins to realize this is a quest he might not survive.

au where cas saves charlie’s life after her run in with the stynes and works with her (and kevin’s ghost) to reopen heaven, while dean comes up with a new plan to permanently get rid of the mark of cain involving the trials from s8. dark/angsty but has happy ending. tw for canon-typical suicide ideation and child (teen but still) death.

The Shape of Things to Come (mature/62k)

It almost feels like, if Dean went to sleep right now, he could get it back. Like he would slip right back into the dream, and it would pick up where it left off. But Dean doesn’t even want to, now that he can see that world for what it is: a cheap hallucination, poking at all his weaknesses, going right for the soft underbelly Dean never shows.

All that work. All that work Dean had done over the past few weeks, trying to numb himself and act like he’d forgotten about it. And now it feels like the Empty took Cas all of five minutes ago, all over again.

Or,

A post-15x19, forty one year-old Dean gets a taste of what twenty seven year-old Dean went through in 2x20, “What Is and What Should Never Be,” and sees how the shape of his own happiness has changed.

 dean is forced to directly face all the cas-related emotions he’s been suppressing since the confession after a djinn encounter. things get more complicated when he starts getting strange dreams where cas seems to be trying to communicate from the empty.

Issues (mature/63k)

Best friends since childhood, Dean and Cas have been on shaky ground for years now. When an argument somehow leads to a bet about who’s better at relationships - one that calls for six months of living together as fake boyfriends and going to couples therapy every week - Cas may get more than he bargained for . . .

normal world au, dean and cas pretend to date to win a bet and get in over their heads. its from cas’s pov (who is more endverse adjacent characterization wise), and there’s a sequel retelling it from dean’s pov i haven’t read yet. tw’s for drug usage/mentions of past drug usage and overdose.

what stays (and what fades away) (explicit/64k)

Cas Novak’s life is perfect. He has a job that he loves and friends who support him. Most importantly, he has his husband, Dean Winchester, and his two adopted children, Claire and Jack. With them, nothing could ever go wrong.

That is, until he starts having flashes of a life that isn’t his and meets someone who shares his husband’s face but not his personality, someone who insists that he’s someone, something, different altogether. Cas’ life shatters when he’s dragged into a world that he doesn’t belong to and doesn’t understand.

Canon divergent from mid s15, cas gets trapped in a djinn-dream based spell and thinks he has a normal life with dean and their two kids--even after he gets woken up. As they attempt to break the spell and bring cas back to himself dean does a deep dive into both of their memories and has some significant realizations about the ways they’ve both hurt each other over the years, how to start healing, and the true nature of their feelings for each other.

Memories Bring Back Memories (Bring Back You) (explicit/66k)

When he wakes, he has no idea who he is. Not his name, what he looks like, or why he’s flat on his back, staring up at the stars littering the night sky.

The first thing he learns about himself is that he has shitty instincts, especially if his first one is to protect the blue-eyed man currently stabbing someone in the face.

Or, the story where two strangers can’t agree on much and know even less, but they’re both fairly certain that they’re in love.

s15, the divorce arc is interrupted early on when dean and cas both lose their memories and come to the reasonable conclusion that they are probably serial killers and also a couple. the memory part is fun but most of the fic is about them reacting to the fallout after remembering everything and slowly working their shit out through various means.

The Goldenrod Revisions (mature/66k)*

A rewrite of Supernatural’s final two episodes, expanded into a five episode arc - in which Chuck needs to be defeated, Castiel deserves to be saved, and the characters in this story get a very different ending.

five new episodes in scripts format following 15x18 that not only resolve every single plot point but goes on to radically restructure the entire world of the series.

True as It Can Be (explicit/71k)

Growing up in a small town in Kansas, Dean learned from a young age that there was only one rule that couldn’t be broken, one place he couldn’t go - through the forest, to the long-abandoned Angel’s Hollow. But when Sam disappears, Dean’s left with no choice but to follow his brother's tracks through the dangers of the wood; little does he know that the most dangerous creature of all lurks not among the trees, but in the Hollow itself. Dean sets Sam free, at the cost of his own liberty - and, bound by magic, resigns himself to living out the rest of his days in the Hollow, at the mercy of the being within. The angel of Angel’s Hollow, however, has a story - is a prisoner, too, as much as Dean is. Only one thing can free them both - but it is impossible. For, after all: who could ever learn to love a beast?

beauty and the beast inspired au.

i want to do with you (what spring does with cherry trees) (explicit/74k)*

Dean keeps going back.

When he arrives, it's always to blooming flowers and a windmill in the background, not too far from a brook, the sun painting the plains.

He likes it there. He likes to stand in front of the makeshift urn and check that it's still where he put it, switching out the flowers when they wilt. He likes to listen to the sound of birds chirping, insects singing, the faint sound of water trickling in the distance. He likes to turn his face up and feel the sun on his skin, wondering if Cas would do the same if he were here, somehow knowing that he would.

He likes to talk.

There's never a response, but Dean feels the breeze rustle through his hair and watches the flowers bob when bees come to them and stares as the windmill keeps turning, turning, turning. And he imagines that Cas is replying—the windmill is the tilted head, the bobbing flowers are a gentle smile, the breeze is whatever words Dean wants to hear at the time.

Sometimes, it's almost like he's there.

widower era-through-alternate post-canon fic inspired by the leaked 13x06 “tombstone” script where dean spread cas’ ashes by the windmill, and they (kind of) get together after his resurrection.

When the Bough Breaks (mature/74k)

Years after the Darkness has been defeated, Dean and Cas are living the apple pie life in small-town Kansas. They don’t hunt anymore, and would like to keep it that way, but some young hunters knocking at their door have different plans.Dean, Cas and Sam reluctantly agree to help out, but what ought to be a simple case becomes way more complicated and dangerous than they counted on. And when the hunt starts to invade the normal lives they've carved out for themselves and their kids, Dean and Cas begin to wonder if escaping the hunting life altogether might have been wishful thinking.

future/kid fic that takes place way after an alternate ending to s11 where dean and cas got together, eventually retired and started a family. I’m not normally a fan of kid oc’s but i actually enjoyed these ones and the way dean cas and sam juggled their new families and lives with their past and not-so-past activities as hunters.

the cost of a thing (mature/74k)

16 months ago, Cas became human.

12 months ago, Cas left the bunker and a broken-hearted Dean behind.

Now they must work a case together, where married couples are dying mysterious deaths and the only way to earn the neighbors' trust is by pretending to be married. Slowly, Dean finds that he loves being in a relationship with Cas, fake or not, and Cas finds his loneliness retreating, despite the harsh reality looming right around the corner. As Dean and Cas navigate this fake, but all too real, relationship, can they find the monster that is on a mysteriously motivated killing spree before it’s too late?

fake married case fic, the trials in s8 were done differently and resulted in dean and cas falling out and sam tries to get them to be friends again by working together on a case. good sam/cas friendship, slow reveal of exactly what happened, interesting new motw.

The Harvelle Gospels (mature/79k-2 part series)*

When Jo was on the cusp of 23, her mother was burned alive in an ambush by some followers of the Yellow-Eyed Demon. Back then she didn’t know this was all part of some cosmic plan, that Ellen was supposed to be the Righteous Woman to set off the Apocalypse. No, she just lost her mother, and she did the only thing she could think of: she sold her soul to the same demons who murdered her. Ellen’s soul was freed and laid to rest, and Jo took up the mantle, and broke when she picked up the knife, broke the whole damn world.

au where jo is the righteous woman/michael sword/protagonist, anna is the angel who raised her from perdition, and sam and dean are just important side characters. jo/anna is the main (albeit slow-burn) pairing, dean/cas still happens but is on and off until the end. really really well done and fun restructuring of canon and character roles to fit in this au.

Really Long Fics (80k+ to 150k)

What is Hidden, What is Seen (mature/83k)*

The Darkness has descended, and Castiel must make a choice. What, in reality, is the nature of Free Will, and where does love end and self-effacement begin? And why didn't Castiel know about the Mark of Cain and its relation to The Darkness in the first place?

alternate s11 where the darkness is an apocalyptic-level problem right off the bat and dean, sam and cas all actually deal with the emotional damage caused by the mark of cain. angsty, cathartic, cool worlbuilding/improving on established lore and worldbuilding).

On the Wings of War (teen/85k)

The four Horsemen are not just people with fancy rings. They aren’t even demons with fancy rings. They are another species entirely, a force unto themselves, and Lucifer is kidding himself if he thinks that they are at his beck and call. They are separate. They are neutral. Dean Winchester is not built like them.

s5, dean fucks around with war’s ring and finds out when he becomes the NEW war. plays fun, fast and loose with biblical lore, michael has some rights, aesthetically a tad lovecraftian. tw for some signifigant body horror.

So Says The Sword (explicit/85k)***

The briefing was simple: ‘Stand guard over the Michael Sword until the battle is ready to commence. Await further instructions.’

Castiel doesn’t mind working security duty; he was briefed shortly after the initial salvation of the Sword from the pit, and again before taking up his position. He knows what to do. However, it’s easy to forget that the green room isn’t real. Time moves differently there, the space ever-changing to make a prison of mountains, cathedrals, salt flats, orchards, and whatever Castiel was led to believe about Heaven’s greatest weapon—Dean Winchester is something entirely unexpected.

THEEE cas pov/trueform angels/time travel/canon divergent s4 fic of all time. quite literally required reading for ANYONE invested in these characters, even if you haven’t actually watched the show (it’ll still work if you just know some dashboard-osmosis basics). 

tell me about the dream (mature/89k)

“Shut up and listen,” Bobby says. “I ain’t calling about some monster, I’m calling about Castiel.”

Dean freezes in place. “He’s alive?”

“More’n that, Dean. He’s human.”

On instinct, every atom in Dean’s body is on high alert. He starts moving, fingers already reaching for the keys he hangs up on a loose nail next to the door. “Where is he?”

or, in which after lucifer hitches a ride to hell on sam's back, dean makes good on his promise to settle down. so what if it's with cas instead of lisa?

alternate s6 where dean and cas move in together, take in claire, and live a (mostly) normal life.

a way to go (explicit/90k/wip)

God, Cas can fuck him up so easily, like he’s come across a stray thread and is just pulling without a thought. “I’m gonna get us both killed,” Dean promised him, and his voice was choked. Cas’s answering smile was so wide it split his face. “What a way to go.”

After Zachariah’s vision of the future, Dean doesn’t reconcile with his brother. He doesn’t say yes to Michael. Instead, the world slowly goes to hell around him and he finds that all they have left, him and Cas, are each other. Deviation from canon post-5.04.

a road to endverse-but-slightly-to-the left fic where a lot of things change but a few key things, unfortunately, stay the same (also dean’s trans). Unfortunately a wip that hasn’t been updated in quite a while but there’s plenty to read right now and the author appears to still be active so still worth checking out if this sounds good to you imo!

The Most Important Thing (explicit/94k)

Jimmy Novak remembers nothing of the last six years. Reunited with his troubled daughter Claire, he's struggling to raise her on his own. The most important thing is to make Claire happy. But why does he keep having these dreams of wings, and of two men in a black car?

s10 au where due to mysterious circumstances cas has amnesia, believes he is jimmy, and is living with claire and trying to be a good dad. both the dean/cas and the mystery of what happened are slow burn, and claire + her feelings about and relationship with cas are really well written and complex. 

Named (mature/95k)

Jesus Christ is dead. Somehow, that isn't the worst part of Dean's week.

yes jesus is an important character in this, yes he is killed off in the first chapter, yes it is extremely blasphemous in a fun sexy way. old school alternate s5 fic with a very different interpretation of cas’ mission to raise dean from hell, among other things; unfortunately like many other old school fic (2010 in this case) it is rather misogynistic at times and particularly character assassinates anna in one chapter :/. tw for aforementioned blasphemy/misogyny/some ableist language.

take the long way home (explicit/95k)

Three months ago, when Dean decided to retire, he thought his life was going to end up differently. He'd thought that he might get to have it all, Sam, Cas, Jack, and nice little place to live. Instead he gets Sam and Jack off on their Summer of Love Tour, radio silence from Cas, and a never-ending road trip consisting of himself.

Still reeling from the loss of his grace, Castiel travels the country in search of hunts. Driven by a need to prove his usefulness, he pushes himself beyond all limits of endurance.

Together, with the help of a few friends, a crumbling Victorian house, and a stray cat, Dean and Castiel patch themselves back together and create a home together.

late season-ish/post-canon au where sam and dean decide to retire after a hunt goes very bad and cas becomes human, cas becomes a solo hunter after taking this very badly. cas is in a really bad place mentally and sometimes physically for a lot of this and he and dean have a lot of issues but they mostly work it out and end up heading down the road to the vermont b&b dean joked about at some point in the show. also sam and jack are doing their own thing mostly but they show up eventually, and there’s side sam/rowena. tw’s for depression/suicide ideation/animal death/hunt-related self harm/brief non-con attempt (siren attack).

a turn of the earth (mature/95k)

Dean’s your typical half-orphaned, monster-killing 22-year-old until a trenchcoated stranger crashes into his back windshield one September night, claiming he’s an angel that knows him from the future and that he’s on the run.

Frigging fantastic.

(Or, in which Castiel gets stuck in Dean’s timeline preseries and Dean kind of hates it—until he doesn’t.)

time travel fic where s10!cas keeps popping up in pre-canon dean’s life up until the hellhounds take his soul to hell and cas is seemingly completely erased from the timeline. slow burn, sad at times but has happy ending, also at one point cas meets john and immediately punches him in the face.

take the bones, begin anew (mature/103k)

“What else was I supposed to say, Sam?” Dean asks him. “I’m not...look, Cas is my best friend, and I care about him. That’s it.”

“And you renovated a house for him,” Sam continues. “And live with him.”

or: a year in the life, in which it takes some time, but they figure it out

after cas gets out of the empty he and dean a) do NOT effectively talk about the confession and their respective feelings and b) move into kelly’s lake house together, where they figure out their new lives, do some major home renovating, and (eventually) get their shit together. tw for canon typical alchoholism.

dumbassery, denial, doing (the three d’s to the destination) (explicit/108k)*

Freedom is just one adjustment after the next.

au after 15x17. dean finally gets to enjoy a mostly normal life with his friends and family after chuck is defeated sans any love confessions, but soon starts realizing that his feelings for cas aren’t really all that platonic (aka THEE sobsicles reverse confession fic).

Remaining Grace (explicit/109k)

Sam's missing his soul, Castiel has a pissy archangelic nemesis, and Dean wonders if he'll be spending the rest of his life making sure the Apocalypse doesn't go ahead as scheduled. Still, though. He's happy to see Cas. Indiana wasn't really working out.

Alternate season 6, in a universe where Castiel made a different choice, and things snowball from that point forward.

cas reaches out to dean instead of just watching him rake leaves and their soul-bond becomes the key to defeating raphael. tw for temporary major character death/semi-graphic depictions of alcohol withdrawal.

Bumper Cars (e/111k)

Two teenagers are missing from an abandoned carnival, and there’s enough to raise suspicion that their disappearance involves a ghost. Dean, Sam, and Cas arrive in town to investigate, though what they find leads them away from those teenagers, and on the trail of a ghost story that churns up things from their past.

very slow-burn case fic that’s also essentially one big middle finger to john’s parenting skills. tw for descriptions of (past) child/teen death and canonical child abuse.

My Roots Take Flight (mature/125k)*

After forty years in Hell, Dean’s more than willing to accept the offer: become a guardian angel and earn his freedom. But his new ward seems destined to hunt alongside Sam, and there are secrets in Heaven that the angels don’t want found out. Dean’s going to have to choose between his duty and the people he loves- and to work out just where Castiel fits in.

alternate s4/reverse au where cas is a human hunter and dean’s an angel...at first glance anways! tw for brief depiction and frequent mentions of a psychiatric hospital setting/ableist language/graphic torture.

Epic Length Fics (150k+)

Plot Holes (teen/160k)

Of course it wasn’t over after the apocalypse.

There was season six. Then there was season seven. Against all expectations, there was season eight. There were the alphas and purgatory, and then the Leviathans, and then the angels fell. Enter season nine. Loose threads Metatron, Abaddon, and Crowley have to be tied up. Sam, Dean, and Cas have to try to tie them while at the same time dealing with their evolving relationships and newfound graceless states.

Amidst all the chaos, someone has started publishing the Supernatural novels again. Convinced there’s something amiss in the pages, Charlie starts her own quest to suss out the truth behind the Winchester Gospels.

With the help of various faces, old and new, they must now not only deal with the typical runs of demons and recently fallen angels, but also reconcile the battles raging inside themselves, as the fate of the world, once again, quite literally lays in the palm of their hands.

a very metatextual alternate s9, where pretty much all the plot points of s8 are resolved and all the major reality-shaking events of the past few seasons have consequences on an interdimensional scale. 

Cinderwings (mature/181k)*

Under the cover of a masquerade ball, Castiel has five nights to recover the key to his people's freedom. The world has changed greatly in the six centuries since their banishment into the void, but the task isn't impossible. Unfortunately for Castiel, this is going to involve talking to people - especially the Knight Prince who has taken an interest in Castiel and his "costume" wings.

fantasy au loosely based on cinderella, has really excellent worldbuilding and a cool magic system.

time has come today (teen/174k/3 part series) 

Cas fetches 19yr-old Dean from 1998 to help the team with a griffin hunt in 2020. Dean Winchester, being allergic to self-reflection, doesn't love it. What follows is character-oriented Case Fic with Feelings in an S15 pocket-time.

teenage dean (my beloved!!) gets whisked to the present to help with a very important hunt and both he and his older counterpart figure some shit out and bond (when they aren’t getting on each others nerves), and he eventually gets a happy ending/world of his own. good character study, intricate world/reality-building, fun oc’s, and some pretty ingenious solutions to preventing a major time paradox. tw’s for child abuse/mentions of past sex work/very brief implied sexual assault/coercion 

Profoundly Different (explicit/190k)

"Castiel?" Sam calls out, carefully. Both of them lower their guns but don’t put them away, yet: there’s no sign of a struggle, but the guy did just break out of an insane asylum by squishing an orderly. With a bureau that he shouldn't have been able to move. "We're not gonna hurt you. We're here to help. My name is Sam. This is my brother, Dean."There's a loud silence. Dean can hear the wind rustling through the structure.A deep voice suddenly speaks up. It’s coarse and raspy and sounds like it hurts coming out; he’s never heard anything like it. It sends shivers down Dean's spine."Dean?” the man asks. “Dean Winchester?"

(A Season 4 AU: what if the fallen angel Dean and Sam ran into was Castiel, not Anna?)

cas is both the fallen angel instead of anna and the one who raised dean from perdition thanks to time travel, and the main plot points of s4 proceed from there. ngl it gets very horny very quickly but if that’s not your thing there’s quite a lot of plot to work with, and i enjoyed the way things were rewritten to work with the new timeline.

heard from your mother (she don't recognize you) (mature/243k/first part of an in progress series)

A man named Cas wakes up in 2003 with no memories, but he's able to piece together a few things:

Supernatural creatures exist, and most of them will hurt innocent civilians if he doesn't stop them; he has abilities that no human hunter should have, but he knows enough about human hunters to keep that to himself, and finally; he keeps running into another hunter named Dean Winchester, who must be as lonely as he is if he's willing to put up with those former facts long enough to help Cas unravel the mystery of who (or what) he really is.

For his part, Dean's still (not) dealing with Sam's departure to Stanford, and figures distracting himself with a bit of mystery and intrigue is as harmless as it gets, right? Right.

after getting taken by the empty after his confession to dean, cas mysteriously ends up in 2003 with no memories or knowledge of who he is, and ends up becoming a hunter and slowly befriending dean. the fic spans the stanford era and an entire retelling of s1 with some MAJOR changes, and since its clearly A Whole Lot the author very kindly made a chapter by chapter summary. aside from some very short timestamps only the first part of the series is complete, and i’m excited to see what happens next in this version of s2!

Redemption Road (multi-part series/652k)

Team Free Will is sent reeling as Sam struggles with the aftermath of his time in the cage, and Dean struggles to cope with the loss of his best friend. Meanwhile, Castiel's miracles have unforeseen consequences that may force Bobby's hand…

an alternate s7 and onwards that was created by a collaborative writing group back in the lj era (and has aged comparitively well compared to a LOT of popular fics from that time). has a cool take on godstiel and the leviathans/the lovecratian mythos connection, and uses ‘the song of songs’ and the concept of dean raising cas from perdition as major inspirations (for the first part at least). 

ngl when i most recently reread it i only made it about 28% in but imo the casual reader can actually stop around there, the rest concerns a lovecraftian apocalypse that is still good  but not required to enjoy the first half. 

Down to Agincourt (multi-part series/wip/basically a million words)*

The world's already over and they're already dead. All they're doing now is marking time until the end.

yes its a million words and counting. yes its a wip (which i normally avoid) . yes its an endverse fic (which i also normally avoid). and yes its INCREDIBLY difficult to describe. all that being said, its SO good and unique, contains multitudes of lesser tropes (fake dating/slow burn/etc), has phenomenal worldbuilding, complex magic systems, a host of really great and complex original characters, and a surprising amount of pan-hellenic historical/mythological references. most importantly despite being endverse its surprisingly light (relatively speaking) and is not graphic at all when it comes to the canonical aspects of it (orgies/drug use/rampant death/etc), and i actually really like this version of endverse!cas!

tbqh i’ve only read the first three books so far but i honestly recommend trying at least the first one if any of this sounds like it might be up your alley.

#thank u for your patience xoxo #also sorry it’s not longer I’m just veeeery picky when it comes to recommending stuff #deancas #fic #fic recs #spn #mine #pop

[oftenderweapons]

YOOOOO ITS MY BIRTHDAYYYYY🥳🥳🥳🥳 that is all sending a big hug

YOOOOO HAPPY BIRTHDAY MATEEEEE!!!!! Congrats, you have won Loyal Reader extra points, I have this commission you asked a century ago so yeah, happy bday sweets

Pairing: Namjoon x reader (nicknamed Vixen)

Wordcount: 1.8k

Genre: smut, basically pwp, mild angst

Rating: 18+ I DON’T WANT TO SEE ANY MINOR CLICKING ON THAT “READ MORE”, ARE WE CLEAR?

Trigger warnings: swearing, hard domme!Vixen, brat!Vixen, hard sub!Joon, strip-tease!Vixen, bondage, vibrating cockring, dildo, overstimulation (male receiving), daddy kink, mention of gagging (with panties), mention of porn, voyeurism and exhibitionism, cumplay, suspension of powerplay. And Switch!Joon, i guess, too. Very unprotected activities USE CONDOMS!!! Don’t eat cum unless the other person/people can prove they’re clean.

“My hands, please. I’m sorry,” Namjoon whined, breathing through his mouth, his chest gluttonously naked, your lipstick marking it here and there. “Vixen, baby.”

“No.” You spoke it with a smile, gathering some saliva in your mouth, your head ten miles ahead of you, already planning what to do after you got up from your legs-spread-bent-over-ass-right-in-front-of-his-eyes position.

He had been whimpering since the moment you found out he wanted you to go cougar on him.

And he’d enjoyed being the prey for once — however, technically, even though you always let him take control, he knew he wasn’t preying on an innocent lamb. You were his vicious fox even when you submitted to him.

“Vixen.” It was cruel. Feet? Bound. Hands? Bound. Dick? Very fucking trapped in a very fucking vibrating cockring.

“Do you need my panties in your mouth to stay quiet?” You rolled your eyes at the fact that you had to swallow and change your plans because he couldn’t for the love of him keep his mouth shut.

“But I’m gonna cum.”

You kneeled on the floor and smiled. “Not my problem.”

He sobbed and threw his head back. “Come on. How fucking long has it been, three hours?”

“Based on my playlist, only six minutes.” You loosened his necktie — currently around your neck — and undid the first couple buttons on his shirt — which of course you were wearing rather sluttily. And that little plaid skirt? The one he always teased you about when he gave you assignments and tests?

He was regretting it now. A lot. It slipped down your legs so torturously as you stood, planting a foot between his parted legs.

He stared at it — at the Louboutins he had bought you after you spent one entire weekend oversexing him — and regretted them too.

You cocked an eyebrow and forced him to look at you. “Still thinking about that stripper?”

“Which one?”

You smirked. The answer was, after all, correct. “I don’t know if I should be happy you forgot or be worried about you seeing way too many of them.”

“It was just porn. Come on. You know I belong to you. Head to toe—” He shivered his glutes flexing a couple times before he growled and arched all the way, his orgasm spilling over his stomach and abdomen. “Fuck— Fuck, fuck, fuck, Vixen!”

“Language,” you chirped, slipping three fingers into his open mouth and pressing his tongue down, drool dripping out causing you to smirk and giggle. “Such a sorry mess.”

He hummed, his hips still swirling as he still tried to find some relief.

You took a step back, wiping your hand against your mouth, Namjoon whimpering as the vibrations didn’t stop. “Switch it off!”

“What? The music?” You tugged the necktie off you, eyes on him as you faked realisation. “Oh! You mean the lights!”

“Don’t you dare act all that smug. Don’t you—”

“Can’t hear you,” you spoke back, undoing the buttons slowly, shrugging off the shirt and turning around, dropping to the floor, grabbing your ass and squeezing it as you rotated your hips slowly, kneeling forward on your elbows, crawling forward until your arms adhered entirely to the floor, your back fully arched as your cheek met the floor.

“Touch yourself,” he growled darkly and needily.

“Do I need to remind you who’s in charge?” You sneered as you turned around to look at him. He had recovered from his post-orgasmic blues and sensitivity and was well on his way to a second high.

So you stood up and turned to face him. The remote to the toy was safely strapped between your breasts, hooked on your bra. “Is this what you’re looking for?”

“Vixen.” He loved how flawless your evil plan was. You had designed it to make him livid. And it was unwillingly playing out to the T. Knowing you, he realised you had probably calculated him being obnoxiously talkative.

He tried his theory. “Come over here.”

You were entirely lost in the music, eyes closed, jamming to it almost naked in front of your tied up boyfriend. Well, fiance. “Or what?”

“You damn brat—”

“Are you gonna spank me, daddy?” you taunted him coquettishly. The laugh that followed had Namjoon considering whether he made the greatest mistake of his life by getting addicted to you.

“I swear, if I get my hands on you—” he said, his voice raspy.

“I’m wondering how that is going to happen…” you mused, still moving to the beat of the music, the swaying of your hips reminding him why he always let you ride him that much.

He shrugged and shook his head, a drip of precum reminding him he was definitely overestimating his liberties. “I won’t be tied up forever.”

“I can lock myself in the guestroom,” you reminded him.

“But you can’t stay locked in there forever,” he replied with a sadistic smirk.

One more shrug before you lowered the vibrations — he was enjoying the toy way too much. “Too bad you’re a workaholic and I’m alone most of the time I’m in here.”

He kept a straight face at the stimulation fading, but he was not as serene about the reminder. “I’ll work from home.”

“Don’t bother yourself for me.”

Your remark poisoned him. “Come over here, babylove. Please.”

You obeyed. Not without grabbing the dildo that had been mocking Namjoon from the very first second of your striptease. He knew you would fuck yourself with it and keep him salivating, watching.

You placed it between his legs and kneeled, untying his ankles. “Keep it still.”

“Please, Vixen.” He wouldn’t be able to stand that.

You shook your head. “Maybe you don’t get it yet, but you must do what I tell you.”

He followed your instructions and stayed quiet. He watched you drool all over the toy before you collected his sticky cum with your fingers. You observed your fingertips for a second, then drew the tip of the silicone cock.

“Miss.”

You looked at him. His eyes were darker, his face more relaxed, no scrunching or pouting or begging. “Yes, Joonie bear.”

“Are you going to lick that, miss?” He had given up. He had pushed you too far.

“What would you like me to lick, Joonie? The dildo? Your cum on my fingers?” Your voice was more gentle and calm this time, no mocking in sight.

“The cum.”

You didn’t think twice. You licked your fingers clean, then straddled Namjoon comfortably, holding the toy as you tried to insert it.

“Doesn’t it hurt, Miss?”

You smiled. This was the submissive you wanted from the start. “It feels just fine, Joonie bear.” He was drenched in sweat, and you had to push his hair off his face to look him in the eye properly. You kissed his jaw, eyes rolling shut as the toy — significantly smaller than Namjoon — slipped in effortlessly. “I'm sorry I was mean to you, love.”

“It's okay.” Seeing him from this up close, so tired and weak, softened you a little.

“I said bad things about your job. I didn't mean it.” You pressed your lips to his, and he whimpered into your mouth, moving the dildo as he shifted for relief. “Do you need me to slow down? Are you still into this, baby?”

“Yes, I'm feeling good, Miss. Please, use me.” He looked so broken. “Use me.” This time he was truly begging.

“Can I use the toy just once? I'll use you afterwards, I promise, darling.” You stretched to kiss his brow. “I promise.”

He nodded, speechless, his head falling to the crook of your neck as he smelled the way his cologne changed as it mixed with your perspiration. It was more opulent and decadent, it became more exotic and dark, almost sweet.

“I wanna put the vibrations on max so I can press your ring to my clit and cum like that.”

He stretched to your mouth. “Please, do it.” He licked your jaw, his arms twitching. He would have grabbed your ass if he were free. He would have helped you grind on him, on the toy, on whatever.

You changed the setting quickly, feeling Namjoon exhale against you, slowly, his breath so cool on your burning skin. “I'm gonna cum again. I'm not sure I can fuck you after that, if that's what you were thinking.”

“You can,” you reassured him. “I'll give you a pause and fuck your face in the meantime.”

He cackled. “That's what I meant by 'use me'”. He groaned once you grabbed his cock, fixing its angle so that the knob of the ring rested on your clit perfectly. “Are we still power playing?”

You shook your head. “We're back to us if you want to.”

He nodded. “I want to.” You both hummed as you started undulating a little on him. Your tummy stroked his sex, the ring took care of your clit, your front adhered to his as you abandoned your body on top of his. “It was fun. But extenuating. I miss my daddy.” You kissed his neck, nipping at it very lightly.

“Daddy's always here, Vixen. Always yours.” He recognised your approaching high. Maybe you would be faster than him and—

There. You were done. Your thighs tightened all of a sudden, your body tensed for maybe five seconds before it all came loose. “Joonie,” you whined out, relief washing over you as you found the utmost pleasure. “Daddy,” you called, Namjoon fighting against the manacles restricting his wrists.

“I'm here, baby. I just need my wrists free, baby fox.”

You stayed loose and lazy for half a second before switching off the toy. Namjoon sighed in relief, your body once more abandoned against his. “Baby fox, free my wrists, please.”

You did as you were told, your hands skillfully operating without you even looking.

“Good girl,” he rewarded you as you undid the first cuff. He stayed still until they both plopped onto the comfy pillow of the armchair. “Get off that toy, babylove. Now.”

You lifted high enough for him to remove the dildo from inside you.

“I told you I would destroy you once you'd free me. Am I correct?”

You looked up at him. And there it was, that little cocky grin. “You said you would spank me.”

“I did not. I let you believe it.”

You faked outrage as you unglued yourself from him and stared. “Unfair!”

He pulled you closer and slid inside you, almost impaling you. “Fuck!” you squeaked before he grabbed your face.

“What?”

“Fuck,” you spat out. “Me,” you added, a look of challenge in your face.

He grabbed the back of your thighs and next thing you knew, your back was pressed to the wall, his hot chest against yours. “Hold on tight.”

#Namjoon smut #namjoon x reader #namjoon drabble #namjoon scenario #domme!reader #namjoon x vixen #52 hertz #bangtansorciere #thetruthuntoldnet #btswritersclub #houseofddaeng

[emotionallyits2009]

deancas fic rec list!

hello everyone! happy christmas to those who celebrate it, my gift to you is my fic rec list that i said i would make like a month ago. the only thing it is organized by is canonverse vs alternate universe. tried to cover a variety of subjects but there are in particular many fics of the genre “postcanon where cas is human and he and dean live together and slowly finally get their shit together” because i know what i’m about, son. HOPE U ENJOY. and if you wanna talk about any of them or rec me other fics please do. :) 

Canonverse:

where the weeds take root by deathbanjo, 30k, explicit “Are you happy? Y’know. Just—being here,” Dean says, gesturing to the yard with his beer bottle. “Being with—I mean, you used to fight in celestial wars and—and save the world. Now you’re growing vegetables and talking about chickens.” There are many fics set in a post-canon universe where Cas is human and he and Dean live together and slowly fall into a relationship. Imo this one is the best of the best of that genre. This was one of the first fics I read back in July when I was getting Back Into Supernatural where I was like oh fuck I’m like in this. Dean builds Cas planters and bookshelves and a chicken coop and they fight and work through it.

Cuckoo And Nest by komodobits, 10k, explicit For a long time, Castiel thought that every earthly possession other than the immediately necessary was excess to requirement. But Dean – Dean who named his car, who keeps a photograph of his mother in his wallet, some thirty-plus years after her death, who still has the crumpled ‘Do Not Disturb’ sign with a sleeping pelican emblazoned on it from the Microtel outside of Roanoke where he first kissed Castiel, clumsy and unsure, under the unsteady fluorescence of an exhausted bathroom bulb – is sentimental. It puzzles Castiel, where Dean draws the line between what is meaningful and what it is worthless. Really Gets the dynamic of Cas doesn’t think Dean wants him to stay/Dean thinks Cas will leave the first chance he gets. Also a nice example of Cas thinking he’s not wanted if he’s not useful/powerful and being told otherwise. Another all-time fave!

lonely hearts by outphastthemoat, 4.5k, gen He thinks he might give up having his own anything just to be able to step foot inside the room next door and sit on the edge of Dean’s bed instead. This one is for the CAS GIRLS who know what LONELINESS feels like.

Helionneiros by aeli_kindara, 24.2k, mature In which Dean visits his mother, and Claire takes Cas on a hunt. I’m always on the lookout for more fic with Claire and Jack. Jack doesn’t show up until the end here but the relationship between Cas and Claire is really nice.

Crawl by aeriallon, 11k, explicit It’s been almost four years since Castiel left Kansas; he'd eventually settled in an island town where he has a job, a house, and a life without the Winchesters. Every winter, Dean drives down to the coast to see him. Another fic where Cas is human but in this one he took some time for himself and got some distance from the Winchesters! He gets to be competent and weird as a human and we love that for him. I must warn you all that this fic contains one use of the phrase “making love” which would normally put me right off but it’s still worth reading. The first of a three-part series.

home where you hold me by microcomets, 1.6k, gen Cas and Dean, in the moments between their battles, ache for quiet spaces. Technically this is a coda to 10x20 but you don’t need the episode for context. Short and very sweet.

Build a Home by domesticadventures, 20.1k, teen After they save the world, Dean expects Cas to come back to the bunker with them. He doesn’t. This one is so cute it’s like what if once they were done saving the world Sam and Dean actually invited other hunters to move into the bunker with them. Obviously Dean wants that to include Cas but doesn’t know how to use his words.

the taste of gravel in the mouth by deathbanjo, 22.4k, explicit This is what Cas gave up Heaven for: greasy diner food, shitty motel rooms with even shittier cable, long car rides spent in complete silence except for the same six tapes playing over and over again, and a burnt-out husk of a man who can barely hold a conversation anymore. Angst fic! They go on a road trip and Dean is severely fucked up post-Mark of Cain.

Unknown Quantities by xylodemon, 8.6k, explicit No one ever tells Dean anything. Another nice getting-together fic.

Creature of Habit by trinityofone, 5.2k, teen The more you love someone, the more you want to kill them. Or: How Cas developed some bad habits, and Dean coped surprisingly well. This one is ancient by destiel standards (written during season 5) but it manages to nail the married couple vibes they give off in later seasons. Cas is a bitch and Dean likes him so much. <3

The (Mostly Accidental) Courtship of Dean Winchester by Tuesday, 11.2k, mature Angelic marriage rites were never intended to go quite like this. Another old one that is a lot of fun! They get Accidental Angel Married and if you don’t enjoy dumb fanfiction tropes like that I don’t know what to say to you.

Vena Amoris and Other Old-Fashioned Bullshit by pyrebi, 4k, teen In which angelic marriage bonds are apparently stupidly easy to trigger, Cas wages multidimensional war in Heaven, Dean can't catch a break like ever, Sam rather enjoys being a dick, love saves the day, and nobody consummates anything. The OTHER accidental angel marriage fic written in 2010. 

Crazy Diamonds by pantheon_of_discord, 24.8k, explicit A week ago, Dean was pulled out of Hell. Now, he’s apparently woken up in 2018, and the angel that a mere twenty-four hours beforehand had threatened to chuck him back into the pit is sleepily pouring himself coffee and wearing Dean’s second-favourite Zeppelin shirt. It all seems like a perfect happy ending, but with Hell’s scars still so fresh, Dean can’t imagine how he could have possibly gotten there. At the same time, the Dean who went to sleep in the bunker, right next to Cas, wakes up on Bobby’s couch in 2008. He’s instantly bombarded with questions by a Lilith-obsessed brother and a man who’s been dead for years, and must decide between keeping his finally-perfect life intact, and the lives he could save by re-writing history. Regardless of these choices, both Deans are trapped in the wrong decade, and their only way back lies with a Castiel still very much under Heaven’s thumb – one who might find the future Dean describes difficult to believe. Time travel is FUN. There’s an excellent part where (minor spoilers) future!Dean is like, “Guess what, asshole? You like me so much you marry me!!!!!!!!!!!” to 2008!Castiel that made me laugh out loud the first time I read it. Also just a good reminder of how most problems in life are temporary and if you could go back in time to talk to your younger self you’d be like, “Hey man. Chill out. You get through it.”

The Path of Fireflies by museaway, 63.7k, mature After his humanity is restored, Dean wakes up in bed with Castiel, a wedding ring, and no memory of the past twelve years. There’s a lot of amnesia fic and djinn fic out there were Dean wakes up ~suddenly together with Cas~ but I like this one in particular because he’s initially very confused and kind of a dick about it until he acknowledges that being with Cas makes him happy.

take the long way home by dothraki_shieldmaiden, 95k, explicit Three months ago, when Dean decided to retire, he thought his life was going to end up differently. He'd thought that he might get to have it all, Sam, Cas, Jack, and nice little place to live. Instead he gets Sam and Jack off on their Summer of Love Tour, radio silence from Cas, and a never-ending road trip consisting of himself. Still reeling from the loss of his grace, Castiel travels the country in search of hunts. Driven by a need to prove his usefulness, he pushes himself beyond all limits of endurance. Together, with the help of a few friends, a crumbling Victorian house, and a stray cat, Dean and Castiel patch themselves back together and create a home together. Do you wanna read almost one hundred thousand words of Dean and Cas having extremely intense feelings but refusing to voice them aloud? Haha of course you do that’s why you’re here. There’s also a lot about Cas adjusting to being human and being depressed about it which might resonate if you’ve ever felt weird about having a body. To be honest the author could stand to use a few more commas but there were also half a dozen moments that made me put my phone down and drag my hand slowly over my face and whisper “oh my god” to myself which is like, the ultimate measure of a good fanfiction so it gets to be on the list.

like moses and batman and james dean by saltyfeathers, 31.6k, explicit dean used to turn tricks. over a decade later, he met cas. Have you seen the fanon (apparently pioneered by Mr. Jackles “Original Deankin” Ackles himself) that Dean used to prostitute himself to feed himself and Sam when they were younger? Are you interested in exploring that concept in fanfiction? Well, this is the only fic you need. Mind the tags on this one! It’s not what I’d call happy but it’s good.

Some Assembly Required by narrow_staircases, 47k, mature It’s September of 2005, and Dean Winchester, in an attempt to outrun old mistakes and painful memories, finds himself in southern Kentucky on a wild goose chase. He’s completely certain this weird religious movement he’s “investigating” is a hoax, despite the miraculous healings people report, and he’ll be back on the road in a day or two. Things are looking up when he meets Cas, an awkward (and gorgeous) graduate student who’s actually doing honest-to-god research into the local tent revival meetings. When that research takes a weird and personal turn, Dean’s left to face two very serious realities: one, this may be a real case after all, and two, he’s fallen way harder for Cas than he should ever have let himself. Stanford-era AU of Dean trying to avoid his father and getting in over his head on a case.

Alternate universe:

And This, Your Living Kiss by opal_bullets, 57k, mature Only a very few people in the world know that the celebrated and reclusive poet Jack Allen is just Kansas mechanic Dean Winchester, a high school dropout with a few bucks to his name. Not that it matters anymore; life has left him so wrung out he never wants to pick up another pen. Until, that is, a string of coincidences leads Dean to auditing a poetry course with one Dr. Castiel Novak. The  professor is wildly intelligent, devastatingly handsome...and just so happens to be academia's foremost expert on the poetry of Jack Allen. Mundane AUs in this fandom have to be really, really good to catch my attention and this one is! It’s exactly what it says in the summary and the characterization is spot-on. 

Out to Drift by deathbanjo, 20.9k, mature Dean drives a black car with a loud engine. He lies too easily. He keeps a gun in the back of his jeans, and Castiel isn’t sure, but he wouldn’t be surprised if Dean has killed someone before. Two people in fucked-up unstable situations meeting and forming a connection. Honestly guys I really just love deathbanjo.

#fic #deancas #destiel

[xlovelyyoongix]

playing the part | myg

summary: On set, Yoongi was your enemy but off set, he was your secret lover. 18+

prompt: y/n is the star of an action movie and Yoongi is her enemy. While they hate each other in the movie, they genuinely like spending time with each other in real life.

genre: action, angst, smut, fluff

warnings: violence, guns, fist fighting, near-death experience, swearing, unprotected sex (please be safe yall) female receiving, stimulation while being penetrated, creampie, aftercare, and feelings that can’t be said out loud.

w/c: 4k

Rating: 18+

a/n: I was initially going to post this at the very beginning of the year, but I ended up getting sick and testing positive for covid-19. (please don’t worry about me. I’m feeling much better now 😊) But a few of my followers have been asking about me since I haven’t posted in a while, so I figured I’d give everyone a quick update. I’m glad to be back and happy to be working on all of my WIPs I have planned for the month. Please everyone, social distance, wear your masks, and stay safe. Happy reading  💕

"I'm done playing games with you." Your furious words bouncing off the walls of the abandoned warehouse as the weight of your pistol points directly at the male standing in front of you. "Hand over the money, or I'll put a hole in your head," Your finger seconds away from the trigger.

Yoongi chuckles, a cocky smirk stretching across his lips. "You won't shoot me-"

BANG

Before Yoongi ever had the chance of completing his sentence, the melody of your warning shot echoes, causing a vibration of whitenoise to jolt the walls of your inner eardrums. Missing on purpose, the bullet still managed to graze Yoongi’s skin, a thin line of blood trickling down his cheek.

Yoongi snickers at your attempt to frighten him while wiping away the blood that stained his flesh. "Why waste a bullet when you could have easily taken my life?" His words oozing arrogance as his body strutted forward, emptying the gap between the two of you. "Is it because you don't have the strength to kill the man you love?" He taunts wickely, onyx eyes peering into yours.  

With Yoongi being this close in proximity, the muscles in your body begin to tense, jaw clenching tightly as your sweaty hands gripped the handle of your gun. "Shut up!" You shout, not allowing him to use your emotions against you.

Yoongi observes your hesitant behavior, licking his bottom lip enticingly. "How about I make it easier, so you don't miss next time, hm." He sarcastically hums, gripping the barrel of your gun to position the weapon against the flat of his forehead. "I've done the hard part; now, all you have to do is shoot, baby girl." He mocks with the pet name he once called you.  

It was at this intense moment, you begin to regret it all. Accepting a job that required your feminine charm to seduce a drug lord that just so happened to owe your client an uber amount of money. You've done it before, sleeping with the enemy only to assassinate them by morning, so why was Yoongi so different? Why was this so hard?

Was it the luxurious dates? His charming smile? Unworldly sex? You don't really remember, only knowing that somewhere along that line, loving him was no longer pretend. "I said, Shut up!" You shake your head in hopes of ridding your brain of all the useless memories that only made your job harder.

"FUCKIN' DO IT!" Yoongi shouts through clenched teeth as his grip around the barrow of your gun tightens.

Flinching with your eyes shut, your finger pulls the trigger, producing another loud bang that causes your wrist to jerk from the power of the gun. Your heart drops at the sound, and you're afraid to open your eyes, knowing the second you do, your vision will be met with your lover in a pool of his own blood.

"Fuck, you were actually gonna kill me that time, huh?"

The sound of Yoongi’s voice causes your lashes to jolt open, shocked that the man was still alive and well, standing before you. It was then you notice your weapon carrying, hand being pinned above your head. The swift bastard must have trapped you in the second before you pulled the trigger. "I have a job to do, and I won't let feelings get in the way of my mission." You announce proudly, but more so to convince yourself than anything else.

Yoongi clicks his tongue at your response. "Is that so?" Taking advantage of your pinned  position, he stares your body down with an almost hungry eye. Your smooth skin glistening with sweat, large eyes that seemed to out shine the moon, delectable lips slightly parted to breathe, and a leather body suit that hugged every heavenly curve; curves he was once oh so familiar with. But, it was also in that moment Yoongi realized, despite the lustful infatuation that pulled him towards you, he'd be damned if he let anyone take his life. "I'll just have to kill you first then."

Before you could react to Yoongi's threat, his stealthy foot sweeps from under you, knocking you off your balance. Your body collides into the ground, gun sliding across the cold concrete. "Shit!" You eye down the weapon, collecting your balance once again to dart towards the object but Yoongi's headstart nearly beats you to it.

He takes the chance to reach down to grab the pistol -possibly to use it to end your life- but your survival instincts emerge,  causing your body to fling forward, tackling Yoongi like a linebacker on a football field. "Son of a..." He sneers at the weight of your body straddling his waist, fist flying forward to attack his face. Blocking your attacks, Yoongi grows frustrated with how long the altercation has lasted. "Okay, baby girl, this ends now." Grunting, Yoongi  uses his upper body strength to flip you, landing on your back as his heavy body pins you in.

For a short moment, Yoongi takes the time to admire your beauty. Messy hair splattered around your glistening face, chest heaving in attempt to collect your breath and cheeks an exhausted pink. "You're so fuckin beautiful..." But as soon as the soft words left his lips, a hand reached behind his back, removing a silver gun from it’s holster. “Which is why it pains me to do this.” Cocking the weapon, Yoongi presses the hold metal to your temple. "But before you go, say one last thing for me."

You struggled with all your might to wiggle yourself from under Yoongi, but his masculine weight bore you to struggle. You also attempted to reach for your gun, only half an inch away, but it was to no avail. "What?" You question back with a sneer, but not because you actually care -or maybe you do- but more so to buy you some time before your death.

Yoongi snickers, leaning in to ghost his devilish smirk over your swollen lips. "Tell me, it wasn't all fake." His jet eyes begin to soften as the pad of his thumb caresses your cheek. "Tell me, you love me."  

Your heart skips a beat but not because of the adrenaline spiking through your veins, but because even after everything, the fights, the betrayal, his heavy gun pressed to your temple, you still loved him. In an ordinary world, you'd be considered a psychopath for falling for a drug lord, but you didn't live in the real world. You were a hitman, and with your busy schedule and the blood of your enemies permanently staining your psyche, there was no room for traditional romance. You convince yourself that was the reason for your undeniable infatuation towards the blonde-haired male, just a girl yearning to finally feel the warmth of love. "Go fuck yourself." It pains you to say it, but in the end, you'd rather die with pride than with the taste of affection on your tongue.

Yoongi winces at your aggressive words towards him. Despite his rugged exterior, he was capable of feelings, and he did love you. He loved you more than any woman he'd ever laid eyes on. Being in this predicament indeed penetrated his heart so deep, he doubted he'd ever recover. "That's a shame." Regaining his stern demeanor, Yoongi clenches his jaw and positions his index above the trigger. "Goodbye, baby girl." A second away from ending your life, the two of you are interrupted by a loud shout.

"CUT!" The director whistles the alarm, and the once dark warehouse illuminates with bright fluorescent lights, bringing the scene to a complete stop. "That's a wrap for tonight, folks," he calls from behind a row of cameramen. "I want everyone back on set first thing in the morning. We'll be finishing up the final scene of the movie tomorrow" The stage and camera crew breaking out in applause at the work that was completed.

With the scene finally over, Yoongi pulls himself from on top of you, kindly extending his arm to assist you up with an eyeing smirk.

"You're fuckin heavy, you know that?" You harshly joke, taking his hand to accept the offer to help you up.

"That's funny," Yoongi's voice dripped with seduction, using his strength to whisk your body into his chest. His soft lips ghosting over the shell of your ear to whisper, "You weren't complaining about my weight last night-."

"Shhh!" Your hand cups over Yoongi's mouth, shushing him before anyone could witness his handsy flirtation. "You know better than to act like this on set." You arch your brow, matter-a-factly.

Yoongi parts his lips to respond but was interrupted by his makeup team stepping on set. "Mr. Min, let's get you cleaned up and ready to go." Politely placing her hand on Yoongi's back, she guides him along before he could get a chance to say good-bye.

A slight giggle escapes past your lips as you watch Yoongi being dragged offset by his team. Your eyes begin to feel heavy for the need of rest, and your throat produces a yawn. Exhausted, you head towards the direction of your makeup team, ready to escape to the confines of your trailer for the night.

   1:30 in the morning is when you're finally able to leave set and head back to your trailer for the night. Stepping out of the shower and into your silk robe, you examine your body in the fogged mirror, muscles sore from stunts -you swore to your director you didn't need a double for- and bags under your eyes being the evidence of long working hours. You couldn't complain though you loved your job, the excitement, the thrill, everything that came with being an actress, and you wouldn't trade it for the world.

A small knock at your trailer door interrupts your thoughts, wondering who it could be at an hour like this. Possibly the director wanting to go over tomorrow's scene? Curious, you peek through the blinds, but not surprised by who you see. A smile slips across your cheeks as you open the door, revealing a handsome blond-haired male standing before you. "I think you're lost." You playfully tease, pointing to the row of luxury trailers in the distance. "Your lodging is that way."  

Yoongi smirks at your sarcastic facade, playing along to entertain your ploy. "No,." He quickly replies, walking up the steps to your trailer until standing directly under you. "I think I'm in the right place." His large hands slip across the silk of your robe, finding their favorite spot on your hips while seductive eyes peak at the curves of your cleavage.

"Is that so?" You question, arching a tempting brow, "So, what is an A-list Actor doing at my trailer so late into the night?" Your fingers trickle to the nape of Yoongi's neck, dancing circles across his ivory skin.

"Well." Yoongi's nose slowly dips across the curve of your neck, getting a tasteful whiff of your natural scent before his pink lips ghost over the shell of your ear. "I came to fuck my co-star."

Yoongi's daring confession causes a vibrating tingle to spike throughout your body, increasing the lustful heat growing between your thighs. Surrendering to the fervor your body craved, your plush lips crash into his, with tongues beginning to dance together in harmony. Lost in the passion, your hand locates Yoongi's collar, pulling him into your trailer, and with a swift kick, he closes the door behind him.

The actor wastes no time shoving you against the counter of your tiny kitchen, large hands fiddling with the lace of your robe. Your silk falls around you, pooling to the floor, unveiling the flawless secrets of your womanly beauty. "Fuck." Yoongi nearly growls at the sight of smooth skin, supple breasts, and voluptuous curves. "I've been waiting for this all day." He could barely finish his sentence before his hungry lips were attacking your neck, teeth nibbling and sucking the flesh while wandering hands located your nipple to tease.  

"Y-Yoongi." You whimper from his touch, body arching off the counter to welcome his ardors actions. "R-remember not to bruise me, okay." If it were up to you, you wouldn't complain about the trademark evidence Yoongi liked to leave throughout your body, but things spread fast in the media. You couldn't risk a 'dating scandal'; in the middle of shooting a major motion picture movie, the press would eat you alive.

"Shit, forgot, sorry." He mutters an apology, loosening his hold on your breast and trailing succulent kisses down your abdomen. "Guess I'll just have to leave hickies where people can't see them." A flash of greedy lust shimmers in Yoongi's eyes the moment he hoists your thigh over his shoulder. His mouth nearly watering at the glorious sight before him. "So fuckin' wet for me already." Teeth sink into his bottom lip enticingly, witnessing your glistening arousal coating over your heated sex. "Makes me wanna taste it." Yoongi's crafty tongue darts out, sliding between wet folds until lapping across a sensitive bundle of nerves that causes your body to weaken.  

"Fuck, Yoon...," You could barely finish your sentence as Yoongi's ambush on your needy clit caused you to fall mute. Your hand gripping onto the actor's shoulder, rolling your hips into his mouth to ride out your delectable pleasure. "M-more,"  

Knowing precisely what you desired, Yoongi slowly inserts two digits deep into your soaking walls. The second he hears your breathy moan,  his fingers curl at just the right angle, locating the spongy surface responsible for your g-spot. "Mhmm," You're a wiggling mess, so Yoongi uses his free hand to hold your hips in place while his mouth sucks up your clitoris once again.    

"Shit~." The delicious stretch of his fingers and stimulation on your nub causes the muscles within your abdomen to tighten. With your body preparing for an orgasm, your fingers move on their own to lock in Yoongi's thick hair, guiding him to where you need most. "B-baby, c-close." Words frantically falling from your trembling lips.  

Taking note of your approaching release, Yoongi stiffens his tongue, lapping figure 8s around your pink nub to send your body into overdrive. His thick fingers thrusting into your walls, producing creamy arousal that dripped onto his knuckles. Yoongi absolutely loved watching you like this, legs wobbling like jello, skin glistening with sweat, pretty lips moaning his name. He took pride in witnessing you being a fucked-out mess. His own personal, fucked-out mess. "Cum, baby."

As if on demand by Yoongi's words, the tightness within your abdomen bursts, body tensing as the magic of euphoria courses through your veins.  "Y-Yoon-, fuck~" Lashes slamming shut as an assortment of circling colors rupture behind your eyelids. Your body rides out it's sinful high only for your body to fall limp moments after.

The evidence of your orgasm drips between your thighs as Yoongi carefully removes his digits from inside you. Standing to his feet, his tongue licks the last of your arousal that lingered on his fingers, always making sure your lovely juice never went to waste. "Fuckin delicious." He smirks devilishly, hungry eyes peering down at your exhausted state.

You can barely catch your breath as your hazed vision attempts to focus on the handsome man before you. His thick brow wickedly arched, jet eyes glowing with ungodly lust as the corner of his lips curls smugly. An expression that only meant Yoongi wanted more. "Ready for my dick now, babygirl?" He's quick to make haste of his shirt, tossing it someplace behind him and stepping out of the thick material of his jeans.    

You gulp anxiously at Yoongi's erotic words, curious eyes trailing down the curves of his abdomen in awe as if you haven't seen his immaculate body 100 times before. "Mhm." You reply with a hum, teeth sinking into your lip while impatiently waiting for the reveal of his sturdy dick.

Yoongi chuckles at your minimalistic response, dropping his boxers to unveil the erect curve of his fat length. Stroking up the base of his impressive dick, leaning into your ear to whisper, "You know I need to hear you say it." His warm breath causes an array of goosebumps to accumulate across your skin, a delightful shiver slithering up your spine. "Tell me what you want."

Having moved between your legs, Yoongi's mushroom tip begins to tease against your folds. "I-I," Your lashes flutter as the heat of desire begins to spiral within you, as if you hadn't already experienced a powerful orgasm a few moments prior. "I want you to..." You mew, Yoongi positioned his tip at the soaking hole of your entrance, knocking you from your train of thought.

He grins smugly at your expression, always taking delight to taunting your body. "Tell me what you want me to do, or I'll stop-"

Knowing better than to keep Yoongi waiting, you nearly shout. "I want you to fuck me, Yoongi!" You sound needy, but that's beyond your worries. Your body wanted him, your aching pussy craving him, and if you had to play the part to get what you wanted, so be it.  

Not giving you a second to breathe, Yoongi's fat tip thrusts into your wet core. "Fuck~" You both curse in unison, you because of the delectable stretch that made your pussy full and Yoongi due to your drenched walls tightening around his girth.

"Mhm, Yoons~." You whimper at the sting of his stretched entrance, but you absolutely love the feeling.  How his dick fits perfectly snug within your walls, the throbbing of protruding veins and his oozing tip teasing at your moist cervix. You often fantasized about staying in this position forever. Having Yoongi live, deep inside you as time passed the both of you by; then again, you're also dying for him to bang your brains out. "Baby, please." You plead for him to start moving inside you.

With your tight pussy finally adjusted to his size, Yoongi's large hand's grip at your hips, beginning an easy pace in and out of your core. "Shit~" His teeth clench, hissing at the heavenly sensation of your narrow walls sucking at his length. "You're so wet and warm. Always taking my dick so well."  

Your lashes begin to flutter at the sensation of Yoongi's fat tip massaging at the area of your g-spot. "All for you~." You purr, scooting as close to the edge of the counter as possible, craving for his inches to reach further inside you. "Please," With brows furrowed together beggingly, eyes screaming for him to go faster.

Observing your desperate expression, Yoongi knew it was time for him to pick up the pace. He grips at your thighs, placing your legs around his waist while positioning his hips at the angle that could explore deeper into your slit. "Ah, shhhhhit." He hissed at the pleasure, hips beginning to snap in and out of your sopping core at an autopilot speed.

Your nails pierce into the flesh of Yoongi's shoulders, holding on as he pounded into you. With your neck lulled back, your head knocks into the shelf with every swift jap he punctures in, but you don't care. Your skin is on fire, and your pretty pussy, utterly addicted to the pleasurable attack. "Feels good," You hum, eyes locking down on the pornographic scene of your creamy slick lubing Yoongi's shaft as his dick pleasantly stretches in and out of your entrance. "Wanna cum all over your pretty dick, Yoon." You plee, lips in the form of a pout.  

Your whimpering need causes a carnal temptation to spike within the actor, producing the adrenaline he needed to please your every desire. "So cum, baby." His veiny hand slipping between your thighs, swiping across your clit while pounding into you.

"Oh, god," You moan—the attack on your sensitive nub precisely what you need to feel the pressure building within your core. "Fuck, baby," Your legs gripping tighter around his waist, encouraging him to keep up the speed that slammed into your cervix.

"So fuckin' wet." A throaty moan escapes Yoongi's lips, your walls sucking tightly around his girth as he fucked into you deeper. He could feel the familiar ball of tension tightening within his core, dick becoming increasingly sensitive upon the approach of his release." y/n," breath staggering in his throat as he grunts your name. "Fuck~, gonna cum soon." Glistening sweat pearling across his creamy skin, with jet eyes glossed with desire.

Your hips rock forward, matching the devilish speeds of Yoongi's thrusts as your eyes lock on him. The ends of his blonde hair paste to his steamy skin, lips, pink and swollen, and dumpling cheeks a rosy fluster. The expression in his glass orbs screamed that he was close. "Me too," you moan with arching feet and toes beginning to curl. "Cum inside,"

"Shiiiiiit," Despret to oblige your request, Yoongi continues his powerful ruts, the erotic sounds of your wet pussy guiding him. He could feel the muscles throughout his body starting to flex along with the anticipating tingle of his ballsack, begging to release its load.  "B-baby I,..." His thrust becomes sloppy, and the tight grip he has on your hips causes his knuckles to whitein.  He would explode any second.  

Even with his body tense, Yoongi doesn't let up the massage on your clit. Only speeding his swift swipes on your throbbing nub, sending spikes of electricity zapping throughout your body. "Y-y-y-Yoon...., g-gonna~," and just like that, an euphoric explosion happens within your core, blasting you into ecstasy. "FUCK!" Your back arches, your head lulls back, and the muscles within your wet walls clench around Yoongi's dick, sucking him in for dear life.

"___, g-gonna..." With one final thrust, Yoongi's pulsing dick shoots warm coats of cum into your core. His throat releases a horse grunt, eyes rolling back, and breath getting caught in his throat ."Hmm," He hums at the peaceful feeling, the pent up stress of a long workday finally vacating his body. "Fuck, you're pussy's so good." He chuckles, eyes fluttering open to witness your sweaty body stretched out across the counter, swollen pussy leaking his creamy cum.

Your exhausted body doesn't stop a smirk from slipping across your flustered cheeks. "You're dick's so good." responding to Yoongi's complement, chest heaving for air.

A gummy grin pulls across Yoongi's lips in observance of you. Your messy hair pooled around your face, skin lushly glossed, and large dewy eyes that expressed your body's satisfaction. You meant the absolute world to Yoongi, and being with you on and off set was the best year of his life. Getting to watch you grow as an actress and putting your best foot forward every day. You were Yoongi's muse, his love. "I'll clean you up." He runs a paper napkin under the warm fouset, placing the dampness across all the places between your thighs he left a mess.

You watch Yoongi in awe with your heart fluttering in your chest. It was clear the growing spark between the two of you was more than just sexual tension. You saw the way he'd sneak cute glances at you on set, how he'd be the first one to make sure you were alright after an intense stunt. You want to confess that you love him, that he meant more to you than just a person to fuck. But, the time wasn't right. The two of you still had a job that needed to be done. "Hey." Your small voice, grabbing Yoongi's attention. Instead of saying, I love you, you say, "Good luck on set tomorrow."

However, Yoongi finds the truth in your soft eyes, making it clear you held the exact same feelings that he harbored to himself for the past year. "Yeah," There wasn't a need for him to say much; he knows that you know the truth of his heart. "Good luck to you too."

date posted: 1/8/2021

#min yoongi smut #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi fanfiction #yoongi fanfiction #min yoongi imagine #bts smut #Min Yoongi one shot #bts one shot #bts imagine #min yoongi x you #min yoongi x y/n #bts fanfiction

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Obsession ||Yandere!Alec Volturi x Female Reader|| Part 1

Warnings: Yandere!Alec, obsessive behaviour, unhealthy relationships and implied non-con later on. This is possibly one of the darkest fics I have ever written so please be aware if controlling behaviour, gaslighting etc. If this is triggering to you, do not read this fic. This and posts like this one will be tagged under dark themes so please feel free to block that tag if you do not want to see content like this in the future. 

The following link will take you to a Citizen’s Advice Page that have resources regarding Domestic abuse and violence. They detail various organisations offering support, refuge and advice for both women and men in abusive situations, however these only apply to the UK. 

https://www.citizensadvice.org.uk/family/gender-violence/domestic-violence-and-abuse-getting-help/ 

I am from the UK and therefore am not sure about what resources may be available internationally, however I know many of you are from places outwith the UK. If you have any resources you know of that would be useful or helpful to add here then please do! You can reblog this post with link in or message me a link to have me edit it into the original. I will post this link and any that get added in all three parts of this fic that I post. 

Words: 3116

Summary: A request for @tiger-khans-blog Savings your sister’s boyfriend was an act of kindness, something you had done out of the goodness of your heart, but hadn’t they always said the road to hell is paved with good intentions?  Alec is aged up to 16 in this fic.

Part 2: When You’re Lost I’ll Leave My Gaslight On 

Part 3: These Violent Delights 

It had been near constant since you’d entered the room.

His eyes were the most piercing ruby red – until they weren’t. The onyx colour had followed you ever since you’d set foot in the throne room, a sharp inhale being the extent of his communication with you. If he wasn’t so damn creepy he might have been handsome, with his shock of dark hair framing a pale face with all the sharp, angular cheekbones and jawline of a model. He was taller to, definitely taller than you by at least half a head, but his stare was piercing and completely at odds with his otherwise apathetic expression. He showed no emotion at all yet the way he looked at you…it was like the whole world revolved around you and only you. There was hunger and excitement and need and envy and a whole host of other emotions in his eyes. It had made you so uncomfortable you’d gravitated towards Alice as best you could, but the whole plan had gone out of the window when the hulking mass of muscle they called Felix started towards your sister.

Isabella Swan was two years older than yourself, but for most of your life she had been the one taking care of you. Renée hadn’t planned on having a second child but like so many other things in her life, you were a complete accident. As loving as your mother was, she wasn’t necessarily fit to take care of one child, never mind two. Bella was the one who had helped with homework, who had crawled into your bed with you when you had nightmares or were sick. To see Felix coming straight for her was like something straight out of a nightmare and you’d moved without thinking. One minute you were facing the taunting smirk of a mountain man and the next the room had blurred, and your vision was filled with the furious stare of the boy who had been watching you all day.

“What do you think you’re doing?” he hissed. His grip on the tops of your arms tight enough to bruise. You winced, wide eyes filling with tears, and in the next second the boy had released your arms and moved to tenderly cup your face. “Shhh, shhhh sh sh, it’ll all be over soon.” He promised, thumbs stroking your cheeks while you tried to squirm out of his grip. His eyes hardened, clearly unhappy with you trying to escape him. You could only see him, his face the only thing in your vision, but you could hear what sounded like rocks colliding, granite smashing. Your body trembled, anxiety filling you up. It wasn’t clear if the boy was more upset with your trying to get out of his grip than your interference with Bella’s execution, but those coal black eyes never lost their laser focus on you.

“Alec?” the petite blonde beside him sounded thoroughly confused while you fought off a shudder. You hated how his name sounded so appealing. Everything about him was enticing, even his scent, but he terrified you beyond belief with the way he was acting.

“Is it the noise? Would you prefer not to see? To hear?” he asked. In the next second it was all gone, like the world had fallen away around you. You couldn’t see, couldn’t hear; you were left screaming in your own head with absolutely no idea if you were still in that awful, awful room or if your soul had mercifully fled your body before you could feel any pain. There was simultaneously nothing and everything, an endless abyss of silence and the imprecise, ever-shifting image of what you thought you remembered the Volturi’s throne room to look like wavering in your head.

Being left alone with your imagination was somehow worse than seeing the actual thing. In your mind Bella was torn in half, one hand stretched towards you while the other remained in Felix’s grip. Alice was trapped by Demetri, Felix holding Edward by the throat. Then the scene would shift and Bella was limp in his arms with Felix’s mouth attached to her neck, both Cullen’s dead and Alec descending on you with that insane stare of his. There were too many ways to envision what mutilation might have occurred and you were beginning to drive yourself insane with them when suddenly the darkness faded.

You blinked rapidly, unsure if what you were seeing was real since it was so blurred. A gentle hand dabbed rough wool beneath your eye and you realised the world looked so watery because you had been crying. Alec used the sleeves of his jacket to dry your tears. Bella was watching you with horror filled eyes, your trembling body almost giving way as you fought the urge to run – you were sure Alec would just drag you back. You could feel his breath on the side of your face. He clearly didn’t understand the concept of personal space.

“Mesmerising, to see what you have seen before it has happened.” Aro murmured, stroking Alice’s hand before she pulled it back with a clearly forced smile.

“But what will.” She reminded him. He clapped his hands, looking so joyful you were left utterly paralysed with confusion. Did he not understand how terrifying this all was? Had he not seen the sheer crazy that was waiting to burst forth out of the boy holding you back? His behaviour was erratic, completely at odds with the rest of the refined and well disciplined Guard. How could Aro not see?

“Yes, yes it’s quite certain, you are free to leave.” Aro informed them. Your breath escaped you in a rush and you immediately tried to dash for your sister. Bella had opened her arms straight to you and the safe haven was so close, yet so far. Alec didn’t let you take a step, hauling you back against his chest and burying his nose in the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply.

“No you don’t, I’ve waited too long.” He grumbled. You struggled frantically, the tears springing to your eyes again as Caius tried to protest his brother’s decision. You had drawn the attention of most of the Guard and the man you knew to be Marcus by now though, the brunette king looking somewhat sympathetic towards you. For a man with no respect for human life to look at you like that could most certainly not be a good thing.  

“What are you doing brother? Let the foolish thing go.” Jane said, reaching for his arm. His head snapped up, a growl rumbling through his chest into your spine. If looks could kill, you had no doubt the petite blonde would have burst into flame then and there, bursting into a thousand pieces with the intensity of the danger in his glare.

“Bella!” you whimpered. His hold was like having an iron beam wrapped around your torso, two strong arms refusing to let you move so much as an inch from his chest. It didn’t make sense, none of it did, why was he so obsessed with keeping you near? Did he want you dead? He couldn’t, he’d had plenty of chance to do so by now and hadn’t taken a single opportunity to hurt you on purpose. So what was his problem with you?  

“Alec, dear one, is something the matter?” Aro asked, eyes glistening.

“Aro.” His brother held a hand out to him and the black haired leader flashed towards him while you continued to struggle, your frustration mounting.

“Let me go!” you cried, You stomped on his foot – nothing. You threw your elbow back into his ribs – nothing except a sore elbow for you. You tried to pry his arms away from your body – nothing.

“No.” he hissed. You squeezed your eyes shut.

“Let me go! Please! Let me go!” you begged.

“I said, no.” he repeated, his voice ice cold. Your heart rabbited in your chest, the nausea in your throat rising until you were sure you were on the verge of throwing up. You could barely breathe and it wasn’t just his tight grip that was the problem. There was a panic attack looming on the horizon for you if he kept this up.

“Please, let her go, she’s done nothing wrong. Aro said we were free to go.” Bella tried. She took a step towards you and with one swift jerk he had turned his back on her. You screamed, your limbs fatigued and losing strength with every hit.

“I’m afraid young Y/N will not be going home with you,” Aro’s voice was soft, “To separate them would clearly only cause harm. Alec cannot leave his mate.” You froze in his grip, fingers curling into the fabric of his jacket as you lip trembled. Mate? Mate? What the hell did that even mean? Animals mated, not humans! Was that what he was implying? The boy was so horny for you he wouldn’t let you leave? The fear that gripped you was utterly paralysing as you thought of a thousand different scenarios that made you want to be utterly sick with the horror of them; your choices taken from you, your voice inconsequential as he did things to you you never consented to.

“She’s my sister! Please, I’ve looked after her since she was born, you can’t just-“

“And from this day forth she’ll be looked after by me. She is mine.” Alec snarled quietly. He didn’t seem to notice you’d gone completely rigid in his grip.

“Alec her father will be devastated, she hasn’t even finished school, if you keep her here you’ll just make her unhappy.” Edward tried to reason with him, but he merely tightened his grip on you. You cried out, a sharp pain ripping through your midriff as he almost choked the life from you. The blonde-haired Guard appeared in your line of sight then, his expression somewhat concerned as you struggled to force air into your lungs. If Alec could hear you rasping for air he didn’t show it.

“Alec, old friend look at her,” he coaxed. Alec had done plenty of looking at you, you didn’t want him to look anymore. You shied away from his gaze, head ducking and hair falling between you. Shuddering gasps escaped you as your heart began to roar in your ears, a sure sign there wasn’t enough oxygen getting into your lungs. One arm moved from around your waist but you were too scared to move away from him now, his freezing cold fingers gently brushing your hair back. You flinched.

“She’s mine, Demetri.” He insisted, frowning like a petulant child who was being threatened with their favourite toy being taken from them. Demetri nodded his head.

“She is, and yet she flinches from you. You are scaring her Alec, and she will most definitely bruise if you keep holding her so tight, that’s I she doesn’t suffocate first. Do you want that for your mate? Do you wish to hurt her? To make her fear you?” he questioned. Alec gave a soft wince, immediately loosening his grip.

“I’ve hurt you?” he asked, looking a lot like a wounded puppy now. You swallowed past the lump in your throat, not trusting your voice to remain steady and simply nodding in response. His eyes were still wide with conflicting emotion, but Demetri seemed to be getting through to him at least. You were grateful, and pleaded with your eyes for the man to keep going.

“You cannot simply claim her Alec, she is so young still, would you not prefer her to live a full life and come to you willingly?” Demetri wondered. You felt your stomach drop as Alec’s expression hardened.

“You’re trying to take her from me to.” he growled.

“Alec you are-“

“She, is, not, leaving!” he snarled, a sea of black exploding around him. Your eyes widened, a cool mist swirling about your legs as you finally managed to stumble away from him. Only Bella was still standing, the others having crumpled to the floor until only he, you and Bella remained conscious.

“Y/N!” she cried out. He didn’t stop you running to her this time. You stumbled into her arms, sobbing and shaking. She held you tight to her, her fingers pressing harshly into her skin. It felt like butterfly wings caressing your flesh compared to Alec’s vice like grip. “It’s okay, we’ll figure this out, it’ll be okay, you just have to-“

“Make this quick, say goodbye to your sister. That’s what you want isn’t it? A proper goodbye?” Alec asked, mist still pouring from his hands as his black eyes followed your every move. You shook your head frantically.

“I don’t want to say goodbye, I want to go home! Let me go home!” you begged. Alec hissed.

“What don’t you understand? You are my mate! I’ve waited a thousand years for you, you are mine and you cannot walk away from me!” he snapped. Bella tried to hush you, stroking your hair gently as you collapsed into her.

“Please don’t let him keep me here.” You cried. Bella remained silent, horribly, startlingly silent. Her hands shook as she held you close. Alec approached you, the mist seemingly absorbing back into his body as he walked. The room was in an uproar as soon as everyone was on their feet again, Felix and Demetri forcing him to his knees with furious expressions. He still never took his eyes off of you, his expression devoid of any and all emotion suddenly.

“Are you insane Alec? Using your gift on us? We’re trying to help you!”

“How could you brother? You broke our promise and for a human no less!”

“What insolence is this? Need we remind you of your place boy!”

Alec didn’t respond to any of the accusations, his neck straining so he could keep his eyes on you. Aro only had to touch his hand to know his intentions for you, but you didn’t dare look anymore, choosing instead to bury your face in your sister’s neck as you struggled to calm your breathing and sobbing.

“I would advise you leave now.” Felix huffed.

“We can’t,” Edward’s voice was quiet, apologetic, “Y/N, if we take you, he’ll destroy us all.” Your chest constricted, you felt like you could barely breathe as a lead weight settled in your gut. Destroy them? Alec was a killer, if the red eyes hadn’t told you so then his actions just now had. It wasn’t difficult at all to believe he’d go so far as to kill anyone who stood between you both, but what hurt even more was that you didn’t trust him to be good to you if you stayed either. Why did it have to be you? You’d come to Volterra to do something good, to save someone’s life! So why were you losing yours?

“You ought think on your actions Alec, your mate will be here waiting for you, but for now you need some time to reflect on your position. I think two weeks in the dungeons ought to suffice.” Aro’s voice was ice cold, his fury obvious. Clearly, he had never thought one of his own guard would dare use his powers against him.

“You monster! You fucking monster! Edward I can’t leave her here, she’s my baby sister!” Bella protested. You tightened your grip on her shirt, eyes itchy red and cheeks wet as the terrible weight of hopelessness sank down on your chest. There was no way out. Even if they had tricked Alec and let you leave what then? Did you run from him for the rest of your life? Did you just wait for him to find you? Maybe the dungeon might mellow him out some? It was a bit of a relief really, when the stress just shut your brain and body down, even if the moment of relief was as brief as blinking.

You could almost pretend nothing had ever happened, that perhaps you were at home, as your consciousness dripped back into you. You were on soft sheets, your pillow cradling your head, and you wanted to just burrow away in them. The only thing was, you could feel sunlight warming your skin, and that addictive, woodsy smell was not the lavender your laundry usually came out smelling like. You felt awfully nauseous for a moment when you opened your eyes, your body readjusting to having your brain in control once more, but the red eyes that met yours were far kinder this time than Alec’s aggressively territorial stare. The chestnut brown hair and angular face was familiar to you, and you warily sat up to lean back against the headboard. Demetri let you put the distance between you with an aura of calm that tempted you to relax to. He was alone, no Felix or Jane by his side, but that didn’t mean he was any less dangerous.

“Where’s Bella?” you whispered. She had to be somewhere nearby. Maybe she was in the bathroom? Or had gone to find food and drink? How long had you even been out? Whose room was this?

“She and the Cullen’s departed for their return flight to America not an hour ago.” Demetri informed you. Your stomach dropped, your nausea rising and face paling.

“No…no she – she didn’t leave me here, she didn’t….you’re lying!” Knees curling to your chest, you gripped tightly at your jeans until your knuckles turned as white as your face.

“Not without protest,” he assured you, his voice softer now with sympathy, “But it seems Alec has become unpredictable. His reaction to the mate pull unnerved us all, you are not alone in your fear, though perhaps we fear different things.” His voice was soothing in a way not much else to you was right now. Thoughts swirled in your mind, the bitterness at your abandonment only outweighed by terror at being left behind.

“What is he going to do to me?” you asked, your voice barely more audible than a whisper. Demetri’s head tilted.

“And that is why I am afraid…I truly cannot tell you.” He murmured. He didn’t exactly comfort you when the tears came again, your eyes beyond irritated with all the crying you’d done today, but he didn’t stop you from letting your emotions run away from you instead. He remained close enough to remind you you weren’t alone, but Demetri didn’t hold you as Bella would, or stroke your hair or do anything remotely soothing. His greatest gift to you in that moment was to simply let you be human.

You didn’t know how long that would last.

#twilight #twilight fanfiction #yandere alec #alec volturi #alec volturi x female reader #demetri volturi #felix volturi #jane volturi #request #volturi #dark themes

[grilledcheeseandguavajelly]

“It Was Hard To Breathe, And She Called To Me” -- Cordelia Goode x Reader

Long story short, I had a lot of feelings and anxieties about coronavirus when everything got bad back in March, and this was the product of that. I wasn’t going to post it (for multiple reasons), but after revisiting it I changed my mind. Hopefully it isn’t too rough!

Words: ~3,600

Warnings: Coronavirus, panic attacks, anxiety, hyperventilating, scratching (if anything about wearing masks or claustrophobia triggers you, I would skip this one!)

~Enjoy, my little peaches!~

It hadn’t hit you. The severity of it all, the effect all of this was having on the simplest things. Holed up in the academy, it hadn’t affected your day to day life, besides not being able to go out. Cordelia had strictly enforced the quarantine, but she didn’t let you girls go out during the week anyway, and your weekends were usually spent in her bed, the only real alone time the two of you got nowadays. 

It made the sneaking around more fun, though, having to dodge prying eyes all seven days of the week. Never getting a break from the questions and the constant knocking on Cordelia’s door. Only able to steal kisses in the fleeting moments before dinner or deep into the night. 

You had been so wrapped up in everything with Cordelia and so dead set on not watching the news, that you didn’t realize how bad it had gotten until you actually stepped foot in a grocery store. 

You were all on a rotating schedule for groceries and errands, but so many girls had joined recently and Cordelia always needed you for something else, so you hadn’t gone out for groceries for roughly two and a half months. Until today. 

It was Coco’s turn, but she had come down with a cough and Delia refused to let her leave her room. Nothing serious, she had said, but she wouldn’t let her leave if her immune system was even the slightest bit compromised. 

You had volunteered to go, and Cordelia had looked at you with frantic eyes, but when Mallory innocently offered to cover your chores, there was no arguing, and before you knew it you were masked and gloved and fighting the New Orleans heat to get to the store. 

The streets were empty, a few leaves blowing across the sidewalk in front of you the only sound. It made the hair at the back of your neck stand up, this once lively city now stark still and abandoned. But you brushed the uneasiness away, trudging along and relishing the air conditioning once you arrived. 

Everything had gone well at first. You dug out your list, scratching a few things off quickly as you pulled them from the shelves. But then you were tasked with getting meat, and when you walked down the aisle, everything was gone. There were two containers of wrapped salmon, and that was it. No chicken, no beef, no pork. And you couldn’t pick up the salmon because one of the new girls had a fish allergy. 

Twenty minutes later and you had found someone to help you, had had a garbled exchanged through your respective masks, and were waiting for them to pack you some new meat. Luckily, when you mentioned the school they recognized you and were willing to help. 

After that it was toilet paper and napkins, but that aisle was also practically empty. Signs were put up saying “one of each”, so you grabbed whatever you could find. No hand soap, no disinfecting wipes. 

What felt like hours later, you were snug in your place marker on the floor, waiting to check out. Tugging at your mask and cursing the stupid thing for exacerbating the heat and making the air entirely too thick. You swallowed down the thought that you couldn’t breathe, pushing a panic attack out of your mind. 

You can breathe. It’s just fabric. Doctors do this all the time. 

The woman at the register barely talked to you, only enough to tell you that you had to choose between the toilet paper and the napkins. When you referenced the sign, she clarified that it meant one of any, not one of each. 

You shook your head incredulously as you thought about how sad it was that the world had come to this, and inevitably took too long to make a decision between the two. 

Ultimately, the toilet paper won out. It should have been a no-brainer, given how many girls lived in that house, but somehow, with the panic attack ebbing and falling in your chest, you couldn’t think straight. 

Your heart was pounding by the time the cashier finished scanning and bagging your items, and you tugged at your mask as it slid down your nose with your soft panting. 

You remembered when Cordelia had given it to you, smiling as you tried it on for the first time. She had told you it suited you, and you grinned in the mirror because the blue pattern did look good against your skin. 

That had been almost nine weeks ago. It hadn’t seemed that long, hadn’t seemed that bad. All you had used it for were your weekly walks with your girlfriend, and even then, you were more focused on her hand in yours and how her eyes crinkled around her own mask to notice. 

But now, as you tapped your phone to the keypad and waited for it to process your payment, time started to stretch around you, the past lengthening as the cashier printed your receipt. 

By the time you had left the store, the stress of the world was making the air press in around you. 

And by the time you made it back to the iron gates of the academy, the panic had completely overtaken you. 

Your arms were scratched raw, bags dragging you down and making you feel trapped in your own body. Your gloves were gone, torn through and lost somewhere along the way. The heat amplified the pounding of your heart, sweat pricking your neck as your head churned around the thought that you couldn’t breathe, there was no air. 

Somehow you found your way to the kitchen, dropping the bags on the counter as the room spun around you. And when the girls started to trickle in and dig through the bags, you pushed past them. You needed to get out. You needed to be alone. You needed to breathe. 

They called after you, voices echoing against the high ceilings of the building, and you dug your fingers into your hair and pulled, desperate for the pain to distract you from your thoughts. 

But you didn’t even feel it, the room tilting and spinning and making you stumble against the walls. 

You found the door to your room on instinct, reaching for the knob and pushing against it desperately when it didn’t budge. You froze, choking on your breath, but then you registered that you had to turn the handle. Then you would be safe. It would be quiet and calm and no one would find you.

No one would find you.

You could choke and suffocate and have a heart attack, and no one would know. 

You twisted, pushed, and the door unstuck, hand slamming hard against wood as you desperately threw it open. 

The door banged against the wall and you flinched, pushing your hands against your ears as your eyes frantically searched the room for somewhere to sit. Somewhere to stay. Somewhere to hide. 

Quiet, quiet, quiet. 

You needed quiet. 

The only thing you could register was your breathing, hard and fast and out of control. It was out of control. You were out of control. 

The room was too hot and you couldn’t get enough air in and you thought you might suffocate, your chest tightening as you pulled and tugged and scratched at your ankles. 

You hadn’t realized you had curled in on yourself, pressed against the wall beside your dresser, but it felt better like this. Safer like this. If you could get down low and tuck yourself away, the world would melt down and nothing could hurt you. 

Don’t touch, don’t touch, don’t touch.

Footsteps broke through your racing thoughts, steady at first until something clattered to the floor. You flinched at the sound and suddenly heels were clicking roughly against the wood, closer and closer and louder and louder.

You whimpered, digging your face further down between your knees.

“Y/N?”

The voice was warm, panicked, and hands on your shoulders made you cry out, breath wheezing as you struggled to breathe faster, take in more air. 

There was no air in this room. There was no air on this earth. 

The harder you sucked air in, the tighter your chest constricted, pushing it back out of your body and leaving your mind spinning with a lack of oxygen. 

When the person spoke again they sounded farther away, muffled, their words barely seeping into your brain between the pounding of blood in your ears. 

“Look at…don’t…slow down….I’ve got…you can…why don’t…can you….”

You whined against the sound, fingers digging into your scalp. And you hadn’t registered your hands over your ears until they were being pulled down and away and the world was forced back into full stereo around you.

“Y/N, look at me, breathe, you’re alright.” 

“No no no no no,” you started, batting at their hands and digging your palms back over your ears as you rocked. 

“It’s okay. You’re okay. It’s just me. It’s me.” Cooing, shushing, pulling for your hands again. Gentler, calmer. Slowly peeling them off of your ears and smoothing them down onto your knees. 

“Stupid stupid stupid stupid,” you mumbled, tears pricking your eyes as warm hands enveloped yours, tracking small circles over the back of your wrists. 

“No, Y/N. You’re not stupid. Shhh. You’re not stupid.” 

Suddenly there were thumbs tracing your palms, rubbing lines and patterns firmly into them. And it grounded you enough that you registered the voice that was talking to you. 

You lifted your head from your knees and looked up with bleary eyes, the room swimming around you as tears streaked down your face. You blinked against them, the light refracting in them too much of a sensory overload. 

But then there were fingers there, wiping at your cheeks and clearing your vision, so soft and so tender.

And she was there. Right there. Close enough that she could reach every inch of you, but far enough to give you space to breathe. 

Something shiny glinted behind her and you glanced over, registering a tray and a shattered tea cup laying abandoned in the doorway. 

Your breathing quickened again at the thought that you had done that. She had dropped that tray because of you. Shattered the cup because of you. A mess. Everything was a mess. You were a mess, that was a mess, the world was a mess.

“Shhh shh shh,” she cooed, pressing her hands hesitantly to your cheeks, the warmth distorted by something rough. “It’s okay. None of that. I’m right here. Take a deep breath.”

Something inside of you shattered with her words, heart plummeting as your chest constricted again. You clawed at your shirt, heat pressing in on you again.

“I- I can’t,” you choked out, pulling and yanking at your collar to force space around you. “I c-can’t breathe, Delia.”

Her name was more of a plea than anything else. Desperation to fix everything, fix the thickness of the air, fix the panic coursing through your veins, fix—

She shushed you again, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Sweet girl, let’s take this off, alright?”

And you nodded, assuming she meant your shirt. Assuming she was trying to help you cool off.

But fingers behind your ears startled you, and your eyes flashed open, frantic as they searched her face. She only smiled, soft and delicate as her fingers dug under elastic and pulled, looping the bands of your mask from around your ears and pulling the fabric away. 

You sucked air in like you hadn’t breathed in a thousand years, hands flying out to her shirt and grounding yourself in the satin there. And then you blinked, heart rate slowing as she folded the mask in front of you and set it down. 

You hadn’t realized you had still been wearing it. 

You hadn’t even thought.

Her hand on your chin caught your attention and she tipped your face up so that you were looking her in the eye. 

“Better?” she murmured, eyes soft as she tried to gauge your reaction. 

And tears pooled in your eyes because it was. Infinitely. But not because your mask was gone. It was better because she was here. 

Your breaths stuttered and you sniffed, and then Cordelia was right there, hands cupping your face. 

“Shh, it’s okay.” Her brows pushed up as she searched your eyes, and then she pulled your head to her chest, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “It’s okay. You’re safe.” 

You grounded yourself against the feel of her, her heartbeat quick against your cheek, and you could feel her heavy breathing as yours finally slowed. 

Her fingers tracked over your spine, tapping as they hit the bumps of your vertebrae, one by one. She cooed at you, she shushed you, she whispered sweet nothings in your ear, her other hand skimming through your hair. 

Suddenly the weight of the world lifted from your shoulders, and just like that, the world felt normal again. Everything aligning and righting and slowing down around you. 

And you broke. 

You cried for what could have been hours, gripping your fingers further into her shirt and twisting and folding and rubbing the fabric together against the pads of your fingers. And all the while she sat with you, rubbing your back and kissing your hair and rocking you softly, back and forth and back and forth. 

By the time your sobs subsided into sniffles you could hear the girls bustling downstairs, pots clattering somewhere in the distance and soft arguments drifting up the stairs. 

Cordelia didn’t pull away, though. Her grip on you stayed constant, wrapped tightly in her arms as her chest pushed into yours with every breath.

She let you break the embrace, sniffing as you pushed a kiss to her jaw and pulled away to look her in the eye. 

“I’m sorry,” you started, the only words you could comprehend after your brain had churned itself inside out. 

“No no,” she chided, finger coming up to shush you. “You have nothing to apologize for.” 

“But I—“ 

She cut you off again, leaning forward and brushing her lips over your nose. “No.”

You swallowed, nodding softly as she stared you down, a small smile on her lips as she almost dared you to try again. 

You cleared your throat, coughing lightly. “I didn’t know I would have such an issue going out.”

She nodded, brow creasing as her thumb came up to wipe a tear from your cheek. You hadn’t realized you were crying again. 

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” she tried, head tilting. 

You shook your head, unsure that you would be able to put your feelings into words. But somehow they fell out of your mouth anyway. 

“I didn’t realize how bad it was,” you started, fingers tapping against Cordelia’s arm as the empty aisles and numbered tiles flashed through your mind again. “I mean, I had heard you all talking about it, but I brushed it off as nothing. I didn’t— But being there, finding half of the grocery list out of stock… What is happening to this country?”

Your voice cracked as your breaths started to wheeze, eyes searching Cordelia’s face frantically as you shook your head. 

But she shushed you before you could work yourself up again, pressing her hand against your chest and splaying out her fingers. 

“Look at me,” she said gently, eyes soft. You did. “Put your hand on my heart, darling. Okay?”

You nodded, reaching up and mimicking her, spreading your fingers out and pressing in until you found her heartbeat. The feel of it grounded you, and you noted that it was pounding quickly beneath her ribcage.

“Are you alright?” you asked softly, eyes flicking up to hers. All she did was smile, pressing firmly against your chest.

“Breathe with me, darling. Can you do that? Breathe with me.” 

Her thumb tapped against your chest and you felt it reverberate through you, slowing your heart rate. 

“In for four,” Cordelia started, her thumb tapping four times, slowly. 

You complied, inhaling in time with her. 

“Hold for four,” she said, searching your face as her thumb tapped four more times. 

You held her gaze, your heart rate slowing as you held your breath. 

“And out for eight,” she sighed, releasing a long breath as her thumb tapped eight times. 

You watched her as you deflated, the way she was holding onto your eye contact like a lifeline. The way her brow was creased down the middle, just barely. The way color had risen into her cheeks, flushing them a dark pink. 

“There,” she tried, leaning into your hand on her chest. 

There was a long silence, you relishing the way her hand felt against you, relishing the steadiness of her breathing, the warmth seeping through her shirt. 

When you looked back up at her, you realized she hadn’t moved her gaze from your face the entire time. Guilt washed through you. 

“I didn’t mean to scare you,” you started, hand falling from her chest. But before you knew what was happening, she had scooped it up in both of hers and pushed it back into place. 

“You didn’t scare me,” she said softly, offering you a reassuring smile. 

You tilted your head, brow furrowing. 

“You worried the hell out of me, but you didn’t scare me.” 

You laughed then, something light expanding out through your chest. And then you were practically tackling her in a hug, wrapping your arms around her shoulders as you squeezed her to you and settled down in her lap. 

“How are you always so strong?” you asked softly, nuzzling your nose against her pulse point. Her hands found your hair on instinct, threading through your curls. 

“I’m not,” she answered quietly, and you hummed as she trailed off. A moment later she found her voice, pressing a soft kiss to the top of your head. “You say that I’m strong, but I’m just as frightened as you.”

You pulled back, brow furrowed. “Delia…”

“What gets me through, though,” she continued, fingers trailing from your hair back down to your heart, “is this.” 

You blinked at her, nose twitching. “My heartbeat?”

She nodded, pulling your hand back to her chest. “Do you feel that?”

“Of course,” you replied, fingers twitching on her shirt. 

“That is all that matters right now. Alright?”

You shook your head, brow furrowing. “I don’t understand…”

She leaned forward then, pressing a soft kiss between your brows. “This heartbeat, your heartbeat,” she started, fingers fidgeting against your chest, “is the only thing that matters to me. We do the best we can, day by day. We count our blessings and help people who are suffering. And that’s it. That’s all that’s in our control.” 

She tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. You hummed, pushing your forehead against hers and melting into the feel of her. The comfort of her so close, so strong. 

Her nose brushed against yours as she spoke again, breaking the silence that had settled. 

“We are healthy, we are safe. And that is all that matters.” 

You nodded, fingers finding her shoulders and scratching lightly in acknowledgement. You felt her sigh, and you let out a long breath, the pressure and stress of the day finally deflating out of you and leaving you weak and pliable in her arms. 

Cordelia nudged her nose against yours, prompting your eye contact. She watched you, eyes lidded and questioning, and waited for your soft nod. And as she leaned in and kissed you, softly, gently, purposeful and delicate, you realized that she was absolutely correct. As long as you had her, nothing else mattered. 

She cupped your cheek as she deepened the kiss and you parted your lips, moaning at the comfort of her and the warmth that was pooling through you at her touch. The familiarity. The inevitable protection that came with it. 

Before you knew what was happening your hands were up under her shirt, sitting straighter in her lap so you could roll your hips down over hers. Her mouth was locked to your neck and your eyes were screwed shut. Until you heard a thump outside the door and a soft “Miss Cordelia?”

Your eyes flew open as Cordelia froze and you had time to register one of the newer girls standing wide-eyed in the doorway. And then there were fifteen more girls there, all piled around each other, mouths agape. 

You heard one of them whisper “I knew it!” and then you dissolved into laughter, burying your face into Cordelia’s shoulder as she chuckled in your ear. 

Madison’s heels came clacking down the hallway before either of you could say anything, and as you lifted your head from Cordelia’s shoulder, you met her eyes.

“Oh come on, you pervs,” Madison groaned, batting at the girls and reaching for the door. “Don’t you have better things to do than peep on a lame-ass make out sesh?” 

The giggling subsided and the door clicked, and you pulled back, looking at Cordelia.

Your brow popped. “Lame-ass?”

She shook her head, biting down on a smile. “Make out sesh.”

You cackled at her sarcasm, and the way she was looking at you — her smile growing yours, yours growing hers, her eyes entirely too hungry for your own good — you thought that maybe being quarantined wasn’t the worst thing, after all. 

Tag List: @thatgirlintheleatherjacket​ @shineestark​ @duchessfics​ @darling-dontforgetme​ @midnight-lestrange​ @nerdaroo​ @pradababey​ @mssallymckenna​

#cordelia goode x reader #cordelia x reader #cordelia foxx x reader #cordelia goode #cordelia foxx #ahs coven #ahs apocalypse #ahs #ahs fanfiction #ahs fanfic #ahs fandom #american horror story #ahs imagine #sarah paulson x reader #angst #fluff #coronavirus #covidー19 #fanfiction #fanfic

[shewhohangsoutincemeteries]

lay over

Peter Quill x Reader

Prompt: “am i your lock screen?” “you weren’t supposed to see that.”

Requested by: @starlord7555​

Summary: five years after the battle of earth, you are helping run the avengers and find yourself looking forward to every brief visit the team gets from your galactic counterparts.

Warnings: smut, fluff, vaginal sex, oral sex (female receiving), shower sex, unprotected sex, sexual over-stimulation, adult language,

Word Count: 4,099

Got a Request? Prompt List: here

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a/n: full disclosure, I have not proof-read this but I’m too tired to do so and overdue on posting. Enjoy :)

.

“You know, I could spend every day for the next ten years training my ass off, but I still don’t think I’d ever actually win one of these no-powers-allowed fights.” you pointed out jokingly as you pushed yourself back up off the floor, having just been knocked on your ass by Peter Parker. You brushed a few wayward strands of hair out of your face with the back of your hand, and he bounced happily on his heels as the two of you caught your breath. “Not while you’ve got those super-special-spidey reflexes playing in your favor.”

He grinned back at you, one corner of his mouth rising in a crooked, charming smirk. There was a faint sheen of sweat on his brow and the same was darkening the collar of his shirt and the curls of his hair. The two of you had been sparring for the last hour and a half, and you knew you looked worse than he did.

“No, but it’s cute that you keep trying,” he replied in an easy taunt. His smile widened when you rolled your eyes at him, and he laughed cheerfully before conceding, “Your reaction time is getting better.”

“Thanks.” The two of you began trading blows again, and you flinched away when he landed a hit on your shoulder. “How do they not count as a superpower, by the way?”

Peter shrugged, ducking under a wide swing you threw, using the movement to sidestep and get behind you. You turned quickly on the ball of your foot, catching him by surprise with a spinning kick. ‘It’s not like I can turn them off. Besides, I don’t need them to kick your ass.”

The two of you were dressed for training, and at twenty-one, Peter Parker was a more capable opponent than ever. His shoulders had broadened slightly in the last five years, his muscles more defined and his hair worn a little longer. Still, he had the same almost lanky frame, and the same soft, disarming features he’d had when you’d first met him.

You’d been the same age before the Blip, and he’d been the one to introduce you to Tony Stark and the rest of the Avengers before Thanos’ attack after he’d caught you using your abilities at school. Hell, it was his heightened senses that had tipped him off about you in the first place. But he’d disappeared during the Blip and you had remained, aging five years before you got to see him again. It had been more than a little disconcerting for him when he’d returned. Still, despite that adjustment you were as close a pair of friends as ever, and as some of the longest serving members of the Avengers, you spent a lot of your free time together.

You were living at the compound full time, leading the team alongside Sam and Bucky. Peter was attending classes at NYU and still living with his aunt, but he was at the compound at least three times a week, often working out of the labs Tony had set up with him years ago to upgrade and experiment with tech. the only person he might have spent more time with lately than you might have been Bruce.

“Don’t get cocky, web-head.” you snarked back at him as the two of you circled each other slowly, eyeing his movements warily. Peter had been thoroughly beating you for the entire training session, but only just. His heightened reflexes meant that he would always beat you in a fight where you couldn’t use your abilities, but you’d spent the last two months focusing on your hand-to-hand combat with Bucky, and it showed. “You know I’d destroy you in a real fight.”

“Oh, c’mon. We’re like fifty-fifty.” he argued, dodging another kick you aimed at him. It was true; your abilities might make you hard to pin down and give you a definite edge in a fight, but his spider-sense meant he was able to keep up. It also made the two of you a hell of a pair in a battle. “And I’ve got some new tech you haven’t seen yet.”

“Ooh, color me intrigued.”

“I’ll show you la—” he stopped suddenly, straightening and turning towards the windows. “EDITH?”

“Nothing to – A ship has just entered the atmosphere above us.” the A.I. corrected itself midsentence calmly.

“That spidey-sense of yours never ceases to amaze, Pete.” you told him as the two of you moved to the windows. Picking something up before EDITH’s sensors was impressive to say the least. You both craned your necks to watch the sky, and a smile slowly grew on your face as a ship came into a view.

“Did you know they were coming?”

You shook your head, eyes still on the sky. “I haven’t had an alert over the comm system in weeks, not even from Wakanda. EDITH, send a message out to everyone on the current residential list; tell them to expect company when they get home. And contact FRIDAY; I’m sure Pepper will want to bring Morgan by once school lets out.”

“Right away.”

Peter rolled his eyes in amusement as he watched you bounce in place. “You really have no chill when it comes to this guy, you know.”

“Shut up, Parker,” you shot back. “You’re just worried you’re my second favorite Peter.”

You winked at him cockily as his mouth fell open in mock-offense. You pointed finger guns at him, snapping your fingers and disappearing with a muted popping sound. You reappeared in the same second, now standing at the front door downstairs. You could barely make out Peter’s answering bellow as he came thundering down the stairs after you, no doubt exasperated at your sudden teleportation. You heard a dull thump; rather than take the time to walk down the stairs, he’d clearly jumped the rail to the landing below.

“I better not be!”

***

Peter Quill was one of the last to saunter out onto the lawn from the ship, a cocky smirk on the edge of his lips and his eyes squinting against the afternoon sun. The light caught in his hair as he joined the other Guardians on the grass, blonde shining honey gold. He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling a long breath of air of his home planet. His smile broadened as he opened his eyes and caught sight of you, stepping out of the main building, Peter Parker by your side.

You cast a brief glance over the rest of his team, your gaze lingering on Gamora for a moment. She stood beside her sister, her expression a polite kind of friendly. She nodded in greeting when she caught your eye, and you turned gaze back to Quill. “This is unexpected.”

He shrugged a shoulder, stepping forward until he was barely three feet from you. “We were in the area,” he replied easily, and Rocket scoffed beside him, rolling his eyes.

“No, we weren’t.” Drax corrected him, genuinely confused by Quill’s claim. “You said you wanted to see Y/N.”

Quill rolled his eyes in exasperation. “Drax, c’mon, man.”

Your lips quirked to one side in amusement. “You could have let us know you were coming.”

“Why, you got plans?”

Your teeth caught your bottom lip as your smile widened, and you jerked your head toward the man standing beside you. “Peter was going to show me some new tech, but I’m sure he’d prefer Rocket’s opinion.”

The raccoon’s ears flicked forward in interest; his eyebrow cocked. “Yeah?”

Peter nodded, an almost boyish excitement lighting his features. And despite Rocket’s brash, dismissive attitude towards Earth’s current level of tech, he was always more than happy to offer his opinion and advice to your crime-fighting partner – even if it came with a healthy dose of sarcasm and derision. “I’ve been playing with some new ideas, working on my own version of those suspension traps you showed me last time. Wider range, triggered by sudden displacement and reappearance of body heat.”

You smacked his arm. “You sneaky son of a bitch. That’s how you were going to beat me?”

“You and anyone else faster than me,” he shot back with a wink.

You rolled your eyes at him. “Oh, honey. I’m still gonna find a way to kick your ass.”

“Now who’s getting cocky?”

You snickered, shaking your head and turning to head back into the building. The Guardians followed after you, and both Peters fell into step close behind you. “Help yourselves to anything in the kitchen, and you’re welcome to any of the amenities on the grounds. If you need supplies, give the list to EDITH; she can have pretty much anything delivered from the city within the hour.”

“Mr. Barnes and Mr. Wilson are on their way back to the compound now,” the A.I. announced coolly as you came to stop in the foyer. “Dr. Banner should be here by nightfall. I took the liberty of notifying the Langs, but they are currently unavailable.”

“Thanks, EDITH.”

“Mrs. Stark is on her way.”

You turned to Nebula. “I thought you might want to see Morgan. She asks about you whenever I see her.”

The woman nodded, a grateful, awkward smile on her face. “Thank you.”

Quill stepped into your side as the others dispersed, his arm wrapping around your shoulders. “It’s so hot when you get all commander-in-charge like that.”

You scoffed a laugh, pushing him away. “Cool your jets, Space Cowboy. I need a shower.”

***

Your breath left you in catching moan as your back met the tiles behind you, melting into a giddy laugh before your lips were crushed in a kiss by the man holding you against the wall. You wrapped your arms around Quill’s neck, one hand sliding through the hair at the back of his head as he slid his tongue into your mouth. His body pressed hard against your own, his naked thigh pushing between your legs to press against your sex.

The hot water hammered down on the two of you, your whole body warm and tingling with his touch. His lips left yours to tease the side of your throat, his teeth grazing against your pulse point and up to your earlobe as his hand slid down over your naked hip, slick with vanilla and jasmine bodywash. He took hold of your thigh, hitching it up against his side.

You moaned again, louder than before, grinding down on his thigh. You grabbed hold of his bicep for leverage, rolling your hips into him. You other hand fumbled down his stomach, nails grazing over his abs before your fingers encircled the base of his cocked and squeezed. Peter grunted against the curve of your collarbone in approval as you stroked him slowly. He palmed your breast roughly with one hand, biting down on your shoulder. “Holy shit, I’ve missed you.”

You smiled, breath catching and head tilted back, your eyes closed against the spray of the shower. You gave his cock a playful squeeze. “I noticed.”

Peter snickered, his laughter catching as you swiped your thumb over the head of his cock. He pinched your nipple hard in response and you gasped, hips faltering for a moment. His lips finally found yours again as the roll of your hips became hurried and more disjointed, your breath quickening. His tongue slid over your own almost languidly, his stubble scratching at your chin. You carded your fingers through his hair and his hand slid back up your side, tickling at your waist before he took hold of you hip again.

His grip was hard, enticingly strong, his fingers digging into your flesh as he forced your movements to stop and pinned you harder against the wall. You couldn’t help the whine of complaint you made in response, and he broke the kiss, chest heaving for a moment as he caught his breath. He paused long enough to shoot you a cocky wink before he fell to his knees in front of you.

Peter pressed a kiss to the skin below your navel, inhaling through his nose to drink in the scent of you before burying his face between your thighs. His tongue curled around your clit and he pressed his forearm to your stomach, hand clutching at your hip, holding you in place as you tried to buck up against his mouth. His other hand travelled up the back of your leg, hooking under your knee and hooking it over his shoulder.

You gripped blindly at the top of the shower partition for balance, your other hand fisting in his hair. Peter hummed against you, hand moving up your thigh to caress your ass. He broke away from your cunt to press teasing, biting kisses to your inner thigh, his hand moving from your ass to roll his fingers over your clit, soaking them in your arousal before burying two of them inside you. He sucked a mark into your thigh, and your eyes rolled back as he returned his talented mouth to your clit.

Peter tortured you like that, fucking you slowly with his mouth and hand until the leg you stood on was shaking and your hand was so tight in his hair your fingers were cramping. You’d come more than once, every high he brought your to only half gone before he began building you to another.

“Pete—fuck, Peter…” you groaned through gritted teeth, moaning when he hummed against you in response. You tugged his head back forcefully, pursing your lips to hide a smile when he grinned cockily up at you, eyes squinting against the spray of the shower. He reached down to fist his cock in his hand, withdrawing his fingers from you to pinch your clit instead. His smirk widened when you jerked in response. “Quill, if you don’t hurry up and fuck me right now, I swear to whatever god you believe in, I—”

Peter was on his feet before you could finish your threat, taking hold of your thighs and lifting you. Your surprise at the sudden shift bubbled out of you in a laugh, and you wrapped your legs around him. Your teeth dug into your bottom lip as his hands squeezed your ass reflexively. Peter pressed his forehead to your own, nuzzling his nose against yours. “You know I’m half-god, right?”

“And all cheeseball,” you retorted jokingly, grinning as his jaw dropped in mock offense. You grinned, pulling him into another kiss, the gesture long, languid and yet still almost aching with need. He groaned into it as you reached down to take hold of his shaft, stroking him slowly and shuddering as the head of it pressed into you.

Peter spoke again, his breathless voice teasing, affectionate and cocky. “Just remindin’ you in case you feel the need to invoke a god’s name in the next few minutes or so.”

You smacked his chest, your response melting into a moan that he echoed as he lowered you onto his cock. His lips found yours in a harsh, despite kiss as he began to fuck you in long, steady strokes.

“How are you always so fucking tight?” he muttered, his lips brushing against your sternum. He dragged his face your nipple, stubble grazing along the wet, sensitive skin before he sucked into his mouth. He circled it with his tongue, catching it between his teeth and tugging. You grabbed at his shoulder, your other hand returning to the top of the partition to leverage yourself over him. You pushed your hips into his with every thrust, the sound of flesh meeting flesh echoing off the tile. “You keep squeezing me like that, sweetness, and I’m not gonna last as long as I’d like…”

You caught his earlobe between your teeth for a moment before speaking in his ear, a shiver running down his back. “I’m not kicking you out right away, Star Lord… you’ll get another go ‘round. Just make this one good.”

Peter growled into your neck, biting down hard enough to make you gasp. He kissed you again, roughly, his hips pounding into yours. Any break to breathe was filled with cursing and grunting moans, almost obnoxiously loud in the steam-filled room. You jerked suddenly as overwhelming sensation met your clit, your body arching into his as your toes curled and your whole body tightened. He’d unhooked the detachable showerhead from above you, turned it to jet and brought it down to your clit, and you could feel his smirk against your lips as you came again.

Each bounce on his cock brought the rush of water back over your clit, and your nails scored his shoulders and back as you clung to him. You released him only to grope at his wrist, urging the showerhead away from you. But Peter shook his head, lips teasing along your jaw.

“Not a chance, sweets.” he growled, his other hand tightening almost painfully on your ass. “You don’t get to stop coming until I’m finished.”

You whined in response, hips seizing as another wave hit you. Peter groaned as you tightened around him, his thrusts losing their rhythm for a moment. You arched your neck back, eyes half closed, and Peter’s lips found your throat once more, sucking a mark into the skin below your jaw. “Fuck, Peter… I can’t…”

“Hold out for me, Y/N.” he murmured back, barely audible over the sound of the water. It was beginning to cool, running too long, sending goosebumps over your over-sensitized skin. Your nipples brushed against his chest with every thrust, your hair slick and sticking to your neck. “I’m so close, baby… I’m so fucking close, baby. God—”

The showerhead clattered against the wall as Peter released it, his hips almost buckling as he finally came, his face buried in the side of your neck. You whimpered, body shaking with aftershocks as he lowered you to the floor, hands pressed to the walls for support, your body held up by his still pressed against yours.

He kissed your cheek, giggling almost deliriously in your ear as the two of you caught your breath. His hands came to rest on your hips, trailing over the skin carefully to your waist. You slung an arm around his neck, pulling him into a kiss, reaching past him with your other hand to turn off the shower. “It’s good to see you too, Peter.”

***

You scrubbed a towel through your hair, sitting at your vanity and watching Peter through the mirror. You’d dressed in a pair of shorts and an old tee shirt, and EDITH had announced that all but Bruce had since arrived at the compound. “So, how far out of your way did you go this time?”

Peter shrugged, nodding absentmindedly along to the music you had playing, his own hair an endearing tangle of still-damp curls. He was stretched out on your bed, a towel wrapped around his waist and his back pressed against the headboard and pillows. He had one hand tucked behind his head, the smallest of smirks on his lips. “A day or two. Maybe more.”

“So, you’re thinking about hanging around then?” you asked, turning around to face him, leaving your towel on the vanity. “You keep doing this and that crew of yours is going to hate me.”

Peter chuckled, shaking his head. “We’re between jobs. We’ve just been paid; they could use a few days leave.”

“And the free room and supplies just made us all the more appealing, huh?” you teased, moving towards the bed.

“And a couple of other things.” he held a hand out to you and you took it, making yourself comfortable and curling up into his side. He draped his arm around your shoulders, and you didn’t release his hand, holding it by your shoulder.

You smiled, but the expression slowly faded into something more somber as a thought returned to you. “So… Gamora…?” Peter exhaled, a crease forming between his brows. “I take it you two…”

He shook his head. “She’s… she’s sticking around for Nebula. And we’re friendly, it’s just…” He sighed, but his voice wasn’t pained like it had been in the past. “Sometimes, she’s so close to who I remember. Which makes sense, I guess. She’s the same person, but… she’s not. Whatever we went through, whatever it is that made the old Gamora love me, she doesn’t have that, she didn’t go through the same stuff. So, she doesn’t see me the same way as the other Gamora did. And she can’t even… she doesn’t know that Gamora. She can’t see what we had. The whole thing is like… she told me, hearing the stories, it’s like I’m talking about somebody else. Someone she’s never met. And she’s right.”

“Peter, I’m sorry.” You murmured, leaning your head against his shoulder. You squeezed his hand gently. “I thought maybe… it’s been three years since you found her, and with Nebula wanting to stay with you guys—”

“It’s okay, Y/N.” he assured you softly, turning his head to press a kiss to your temple before resting his chin on top of your head. “Like I said, she’s not the same. She’s not the person I… my Gamora is gone. And it might’ve taken a while, but I… I get that. It just took me a while to wrap my head around it.”

The two of you fell silent for a while, the weight of the conversation settling over you like a blanket. You played with his fingertips absentmindedly, eyes unfocused.

“You hungry?”

You looked up, offering him a warm smile. “Starved.”

Peter’s face broke into a cocky, teasing smirk. “Yeah, you are.”

You scoffed at him, elbowing him in the side. He laughed, shying away from you, arm withdrawing from your shoulders. “We can order from that steakhouse; get it delivered?”

“Works for me.”

“And you won’t even have to put pants on,” you teased, laughing as he poked you in the side in retaliation. “Is it too early to order? Hand me my phone?”

Peter picked it up from your bedside table, the screen lighting up as he did. You snatched it out of his hand quickly, your cheeks warming slightly. A surprised, smug grin slowly bloomed on Peter’s face. “Am I your lock screen?”

“…You weren’t supposed to see that.” you admitted awkwardly, face flushed. Your background picture was a photo of the two of you that you’d taken on a previous visit; grinning at the camera like fools, caught up in the music you’d been blasting at two a.m. He’d been emulating everything he thought a Rockstar should be, over the top and frankly, adorable. You pushed yourself away from him, moving to clamber back off the bed and away from the embarrassment of being caught out. “It’s not a big deal, I just thought it was a good picture, and—”

He caught hold of your wrist, dragging you back to him. He pulled you on top of him, legs on either side of his, trapping you there with hands on your waist. “Come with me.”

“What?”

“Come with me,” he repeated, his expression surprisingly earnest. He released your waist to take hold of your hands instead, enclosing them between both of his. “Come see the universe.”

“Quill, you’re being—”

“C’mon, Y/N.” he insisted, his tone an almost boyish excitement at the idea. “It’ll be great! You and me and the whole universe to see. You’ll love it, I promise.”

“Peter, I—” you struggled to find the words, taken aback by his sudden proclamation. This was something you thought about, late at night when you were too tired to think of all the reasons it wouldn’t work. “I ha-have responsibilities, here. I can’t just—”

“Just think about it,” he urged, his head ducked down to meet yours beseechingly. “We could be like this all the time. We could… we could be together.”

“And… you want that?” you couldn’t help but ask. You knew Peter’s reputation – Drax and Rocket had alluded to it more than enough – and up until now you weren’t entirely sure if you were his only… hell, you didn’t know what to call it.

He nodded, hands tightening slightly on your own. “We fit, you and me.” you swallowed, halfway torn between running from the room declaring your avenging too important and throwing yourself into his arms. “Just… say you’ll think about it? Please?”

After a moment, you nodded slowly, wetting your lips nervously. “I’ll think about it.”

.

.

.

tags: @lovely-dreamer19​ @wittyforachange​ @wefracturedmotivation​ @january-echoes​ @glossyloner​ @capitalnineteen​ @youclickedthislink​ 

If you would like to be tagged in future peter quill stories, or in my marvel stories in general, please send me an ask :) I hope you enjoyed it, and please like/reblog/comment :)

#peter quill #peter quill x reader #peter quill x you #peter quill imagine #peter quill fanfic #peter quill x oc #peter quill x ofc #peter quill fanfiction #peter quill reader insert #star lord #star lord x reader #star lord x you #star lord imagine #star lord reader insert #star lord fanfic #star lord fanfiction #star lord x ofc #star lord x oc #marvel #marvel fanfic #marvel fanfiction #marvel reader insert #marvel imagine #mcu #mcu fanfiction #mcu fanfic #mcu imagine #mcu reader insert #mine: fanfic

[mci-writing]

Attachment (Villain!Midoriya Izuku x Reader)

A/n:This fic was originally meant to be posted July 20th for @birds-have-teeth‘s Izumonth Server Collab! I enjoyed writing for this event and I hope you all enjoy this fic!

Warnings: Somewhat mature themes; reader is a sex worker; gun use; non-consensual touching of naked skin, but not quite groping; Slightly ooc Midoriya Izuku; Reader implied to not be the greatest at defending themselves

There’s a certain loneliness that comes into your mind when you’ve been put down all your life. It’s a form of depression everyone faces once in a while, one that hits some a little harder and hits others a bit less. Then there’s always a trigger and it hits some so low it’s nearly impossible for them to pick themselves back up. 

Some have no idea where their sudden upset came from, settling for letting the slump pass over instead of getting to the root and removing that unneeded variable. Others know exactly what set off the feeling and rather hide it from themselves, wearing a facade over their emotions until they finally can’t handle all the turmoil. That usually leads to… unruly situations and one to a few lives get taken in the process. 

Midoriya has observed enough to know that this… weak point can be manipulated into getting people tricked up in numerous webs for his own self gain. What point in time varies on the person and the situation, but people usually get pretty desperate once all the pieces finally hit just a little too deep for them to shake off the depressive state of unwantedness. He knows all too well himself what paths unwarranted thoughts lead you down when you’re trapped in desperation.

“Here’s the deal then… I help you if you help me,” However, as time passes and you’ve watched numerous people fall for the same trick from a couple of choice words, the small tug of remorse at the back of your mind eases into a silent plea of muddled feelings. Any struggle is resolved with a simple “for business” before he fast talks his way through another bungled, one-sided proposition that ends up with a once innocent civilian put behind bars for the blood they never had on their hands. Twisting fate in his scarred hands for the sake of his survival, “This whole situation will disappear if you just assist me in this one situation. You even get a cut”

There were a few successful missions here and there, and he always made sure to make his end of the deal rather quickly before anything could get too overly complicated. People would go missing and bank accounts would be filled with stolen money; Police turn their heads with a simple threat or bribe. Then the cycle repeats again and another kid that needs therapy gets sent down a dangerous path. If it was just a little over his jurisdiction, another body is left in the gutter of some busted neighborhood with little trace as to just what happened. 

And those that couldn’t wallow in the filth of their crimes usually handled their own punishment.

He learns to lay low, move places, but never forget names or faces. The process can be emotionally tolling on him at times. Certain situations tend to remind him of his times growing up, those hopeless situations that crawl from the depths of your mind and keep you up on late nights. He pushes them away and continues with his day, keeping an eye out for his next victims before he hits the road again. 

He passes numerous people on his way up to his apartment, his body swerving and curling in various ways to avoid the rambunctious space up the stairs and through the halls. He’s lucky to only bump into one person when he happens to glance away a moment. They’re also not paying much attention, squeaking out in surprise from the sudden collision and their hoodie falling in the aftermath. 

They fall back a bit, catching themself with their back-foot before they can fully trip up while Midoriya manages to hold himself from the impact. He’s forced to take in their features, finding himself gazing upon them a little longer than he intends before tearing his own emerald eyes away from their form before he can embarrass and draw extra attention to himself. It doesn’t help that their seemingly tantalizing, (e/c) eyes curiously stare up at him. His body warms in a way that reminds him of his prepubescent awkwardness and his cheeks light up a rare shade of red he’s normally able to keep composed.

He clears his throat before his feet begin moving again to quickly remove himself from the situation before he can open his mouth. He’s only able to have enough decency to give a half-assed apology in the midst of retreating to his home. His heart beats a little faster and takes awhile to calm.

~~~

He keeps notes on the surrounding tenants, documenting every inconvenience that they face and each unfortunate event that seems to surround their bubbles while he’s there. He tosses darts at possible targets daily as he keeps himself holed up in his small apartment. 

It’s a little more than surprising when you get a set of darts as a housewarming gift to accompany the usual “Yoroshiku onegai shimasu”, especially an expensive, name brand set of this caliber, but there are times where you get lucky, I guess? Then again, it came from the person he practically bulldozed his first day of being here and they insisted the incident was their fault, buying them as a “makeup gift” or something? The gift was accompanied with the information of their name as well. He wasn’t opposed and accepted them with open arms (of course, sending the darts in to his associates to check before he properly used them) before coming to the quick decision to distance himself just a little more than he usually does (because there’s something up with the way he finds himself just a little more on the warm side when he talks to them).

His room smells like katsudon from some random takeout restaurant from down the street that he picks up on his way home from those times he goes in and comes home late. He carries a duffel bag to and from his office, filling them with a spare set and replacing them on days things get messier than planned. There are days he finds bloody weapons he forgot to get rid of and days where his neighbors become curious of his occupation. Both are brushed off in the same manor, taken care of and disposed of respectively. 

He maps out the surrounding area for his next aim. He notes the various factors in notes, from the Pro heroes in this specific area to important landmarks he’d like to hit up for priceless souvenirs. He only takes a break to check and manage his time “responsibly”, but only the smell from his leftover boxes really distracts him by reminding him that he needs to probably get some food soon. It becomes a last priority each time he manages to push it away, but his body can only handle the denial for so long before he finally forces himself from his seat.

Midoriya steps out of his apartment once he gets everything he needs, pausing at the sight of his neighbor standing in front of their ajar door. He can only really see past it a bit, catching sight of maybe a chair and a stand? Their fingers are rummaging through a small pouch, their eyebrows furrowed and lips upturned in a pout as they search through it. He watches for a moment before releasing a sigh, walking up to them and clearing his throat to garner their attention.

“Are you looking for something?” He speaks up, his hands shoved in his pockets. His eyes catch the way their face lights up a shade or the nervous downturn their (e/c) eyes make. He takes note of the way their hold tightens around the pouch, the way they begin to sweat under his gaze before their eyes shyly glance back up at him.

“No. Not at all” They lie through their teeth, glancing down at their small bag one last time before they close it with a huff. They open their apartment door, sending him a quick smile, “Thanks for asking, though. I-I’ll see you around”

He stops himself from asking further, quickly nodding his own head and heading out the door of the building. He brushes the encounter off and instead focuses on getting himself a nice bowl of beef katsudon from down the street.

The trip doesn’t take him very long as he walks back in his apartment building with three plates stacked in a bag and a stick of pocky between his teeth. He stares ahead rather blankly as he mentally runs over the crap he’d recently gathered in passing. Some guy a few buildings down needs help with rent payment, a dad struggling over custody of his kid, and a washed up businessman needs enough money to get himself off the ground again. He grins to himself as his plans of another successful caper begin to formulate, so lost in his head he almost passes his door.

He pulls his keycard from his pocket, taking the time to swallow the cookie between his teeth before he gets the door opened. He pauses when he hears the door across the hall slam shut, his back straightening in panic and his body contorting to catch what happened. His eyes narrow at the hefty guy beside his neighbor’s door, rolling his eyes as the guy continues to knock at the door.

“Come on, (Y/n). You've gotta let me in. I’ve changed-” Midoriya sighs as he closes his door, his grip on his bag tightening as he fully turns around and walks up to him. He pulls on an old smile he only pulls in situations that are a little more sensitive and he prays it doesn’t seem disingenuous when he steps up to the door.

The guy is just a foot over Midoriya, bulkier and forcefully intimidating. His intimidation is so fake that Midoriya has to hold himself back from laughing. He settles for clearing his throat to garner the guy’s attention, holding the bag up and innocently tilting his head.

“Hey, is, uh, is (Y-Y/n) here? We sort of planned a l-lunch date for today…” He inwardly cringes at his own words, still managing to hold up the act. The idea of even doing something remotely that romantic with anyone was enough to get his cheeks flushing enough and his, as others say, green, doe eyes was enough to help pull off the innocent look for him.

 “You don’t seem like much..” The dude looks him over, lip upturned in judging disgust. Midoriya has to hold back a roll of his eyes, his free hand making it to his back pocket and setting itself inside as he waits for the guy to finish sizing him up. The smirk that comes to that guy’s face seems to piss Midoriya off just a little more, his voice now louder and taunting, “You really couldn’t do any better, (Y/n)?!”

“LISTEN HERE, YOU PIECE OF SHI- Midoriya? H-Hey!” The sudden yank of the door causes Midoriya to jump just a little more than he thought it would. Hearing their tone of voice and the sudden rise in volume was a little more than surprising to him, especially considering how quiet and to themselves they tended to be when he was around.

“I said you could call me Izuku, i-if you wanted. We’ve already been through so much as is, (Y/n),” He watches their (e/c) eyes dart between the bag in his hand, him, and the other guy standing next to him. They seemingly calm down a bit, a bit of a nervous smiling coming to their face at the sight of Izuku being there. He lifts the bag a little more, stepping to be more in their peripheral vision and reassuring them of the situation, “I hope you don’t mind katsudon…”

“Come on then, Izuku” They open the door a little wider with a kind smile, turning away from them before walking inside. Midoriya takes a moment before following behind, grinning as he closes the door in the guy’s face.

He doesn’t know what to expect when he walks inside, but the barren apartment was a bit of a surprise. It shouldn’t have been. He’s seen people with gaping holes in their walls and others with cow sized rodents running around. This wasn’t anything new at all, especially in such a cheap apartment complex, but it didn’t connect with the housewarming/apology gift he received from them the first week he moved in. There’s a flyer on a small table conveniently placed near the front door. Green eyes scan over the paper covered in various shades of lustful blues and accentuated pinks, swiping the leaflet with finesse and walking just a little further inside after removing his shoes. 

He pushes it to the back of his mind and instead focuses on sharing the katsudon he ordered. It was more than likely a little more lukewarm than either of them would have liked, but that isn't enough to wane his hunger as he pulls the take out bowls out of the bag. He passes (Y/n) some chopsticks, taking his own between his fingers and flipping the top off of his.

The two eat in silence. One believes it to be calming, allowing him to get a look around the room and properly inspect the other without seeming out of place, while the other finds it rather awkward as they search their mind for how to break it. When (y/n) finally does find the right words, they speak up almost meekly. It’s a great contrast from their fussing earlier, yet it was what Midoriya was used to hearing from them, “Sorry that you got involved with all… that”

That was one way to describe that encounter…

“It’s fine. We all deal with crazy people from time to time”

“Yeah…”

~~~

That wouldn’t be the last time Midoriya would find himself stepping into a similar situation for his neighbor across the hall. It seemed every week there was some dick outside waiting on them, trailing them home, or practically trying to force their way into their apartment. It seemed almost non-stop and was very distracting from his job. He had plans he needed to work out and pawns to create to go in his stead, but instead he was playing hero for his resident next door. He could make it easier on himself and ignore the pricks outside, let them have at them however they were looking to. Turn a blindeye to it all and pretend he has no idea when they inevitably go missing.

However, the flyer on his wall above his laptop reminds him that he just can’t do that. He has to watch over them for a reason and to just let that go out of sheer annoyance won’t feign him much luck when he finally sends his next team out to the field. If he has to feed them every night, have his goons keep watch of them on their way to work at the darkest hours of the night as well as their way home at the very crack of dawn, and leave them small gifts for the better fit of their survival then he’ll do just that to ensure that this deal doesn’t just slip away from his fingers. A sex worker is more than essential to the very job spending time with (Y/n) was distracting him from, especially if they knew their way around the underground of this neighborhood. 

They were good at their job, very good at their job. He’s visited once or twice, only really making his presence known as of late (how many times he has gone to see them prior to that is really only his concern and a personal choice on his part) so they’d talk more openly about it with him and stop dancing around their profession (pun intended). They had a proficiency to their movements that he’s rarely seen in such low par establishments which, added with their fluidity and attractiveness, made it pretty obvious why so many patrons try to find their way to (Y/n)’s apartment in an attempt to gain just a little more than a bit of lewd teasing.

His mind races with the various places and positions he can place them in for this to work, reminding him just how important it is for him to properly socialize with the tenant across the hall. Getting attached wouldn’t be much of a problem. It’s never been much of a problem to him before and it's not like he had much of a reason to keep up such a facade of caring after. Whatever happened to them after wasn’t much of his concern, even if taking them on for more missions later would make a couple a little easier-

That was the original objective, anyway. There’s no room for truly caring for someone when you’re working underground, no room for getting beside yourself and growing any bonds deeper than respected co-workers. Midoriya’s been doing this job for years, first starting out as an intelligence kid for one of the yakuza groups in his neighborhood. He’s seen what kind of hurt it can lead to by keeping people close and how climbing up the ladder of power adds to the heartbreaks caused. 

Midoriya feels himself sigh as he shakes himself from thinking on the subject any longer, going back to his map of the High Cape, an expensive bar upstreet commonly used as a venue for support item bidding. One support item in particular had his and everyone else in the industry’s attention. He knew a couple of villains that would bid ten times the amount of money the device would actually go for and he could definitely use the money for his future projects. With the various vents and ducts in the building (mainly for quirk occurrences rather than heating and cooling the building), he’d need someone with a quirk or some similar ability that would allow them to easily slip by. His eyes move up his table, landing directly on the perfect person: A tenant down the hall, practically a teenager living on her own. She’s small enough for it and she could definitely use a cut of the cash they’d get-

“Hey, Izuku? I’m using your shower again” Midoriya jumps in his seat at the sudden opening of his door, his hands scurrying to put everything out of view. He turns around just as the door closes behind his intruder, towel wrapped around their body and the sparkly new loofa he bought them the other day held tightly in their hand. He’s seen this sight so many times the past month and it still manages to make his cheek tinge a hint of red at the idea of a bare body being there (it doesn’t help he has a very good idea of just what lays under there from the various performances of theirs he’s attended). Times like this make him feel more like their overprotective sugar daddy than an employer trying to get them in a job.

“You sure you don’t want me to pay your water bill? I don’t mind” He reminds as he watches them make their way to his bathroom. His swivel chair moves with his body as he stretches, the satisfying cracks his bones makes causing him to hum out in misplaced pleasure. He doesn’t expect too much of an answer back once the shower water comes on, turning his chair back to his desk and grabbing his planning journal, “I’m pretty close to just doing it against your will!”

He opens it up, reading over it’s contents. He adds a few more spare details as he thinks the plan over, sighing once more as he thinks over his current lab rats. He’s already planted the seeds for a few needed pawns, catching sight of their responses to his anonymous proposal and enjoying the way many of them were quick to send their responses to their designated areas. It makes him chuckle each time he sees those so ready to change their situation “for the better”. Those same people who jump at the deal without hesitation tend to be the ones to fully follow the plan through, do everything they're supposed to and deliver what he needs to his palm, yet they also do the irrational once the deeds they’ve committed really sinks in.

“You’re always writing in that thing when I come over” He hears their wet footsteps on the tiled floor before he realizes the water’s cut off.

“Don’t sit on the bean bag chair until you fully dry off” His jade orbs slowly look up at (Y/n), a knowing look on his face when he looks up to find them loosely dressed in one of his old t-shirts and, hopefully, a pair of underwear. He finds himself frowning seeing the fabric stick to their wet body the way it did, accentuating parts of them that he wished other people didn’t see. He sets his notebook down and trades it’s position for his phone (purposefully bugged in a way to keep out peepers), “Have you eaten today?”

The shrug he receives reminds him that he shouldn’t have bothered asking before he orders them something through one of his subordinates. His eyes gaze over their body again, this time lingering just a little longer. He turns away again, ignoring the way his cheeks warm. 

Having them laid out on his bean bag chair, legs spread enough for him to get enough of a view to confirm that they were indeed wearing underwear added another rosy shade. It reminds him why he’s approaching them in such a protective way and why he has to make sure he gets close enough for them to trust him with their life.

“Do you trust me?” It’s a simple question. It should’ve been a straightforward response from here on out. He discretely reaches under his desk as they hesitate, keeping the steel device out of their line of sight as he stands to his feet. 

(Y/n) nervously grins as Midoriya slowly approaches and there’s this look in his eyes that they’ve never seen from him. They stand to their feet themselves in a wary manner, glancing around for any indication that this was just a prank that they’d laugh off in a few minutes, “Of course I trust you… You’ve already done so much for me, it’d be kinda crazy for me not to-”

“But with your life?” Their heart stops when he pulls the gun out and aims it their way, his index finger close to the trigger and ready to pull it so easily, “Are you willing to dedicate yourself to my case if your survival depended on it?”

“What the hell are you talking about?!” He shoots once, the bullet just barely missing them and perfectly hitting the center of his dart board on the wall behind them. A sign that that’s not what he wants to hear, “Izuku-”

“Are you going to listen to whatever I say when the time calls for it?” The smirk on his face holds nothing more than amusement as he stares them down, patiently awaiting their answer. His head tilts to the side, eyes narrowing slightly as he speaks again, “We both know I’m the only thing keeping you alive and well… I’m really not asking for much and it really benefits you in the long run”

Another hesitant, painfully awkward silence follows that statement as (Y/n) thinks over their options at the moment. They could either defy his request and die right here in his apartment or they could accept his request and do whatever he says to keep yourself alive and, most probably, be taken care of the way he has been taking care of them. It doesn’t take rocket science to decide which was better at the very moment, “I trust you, Izuku...”

“Call me Deku when you’re working” He takes a step forward, the gun still threateningly being held. He flips it in his hold before getting it in a comfortable position again, enjoying watching the person before him squirm under scrutiny at the possibility of a bullet shooting through them. The whole scene gave him excited goosebumps, his coy smile still on his face as he watches them reveal their nervous ticks before him. All of this because they really thought he’d shoot, “Take my shirt off”

He watches as it comes off, the sight of their bareness almost enough for him to put the gun down and properly take it in. He releases a breath through his nose, stepping forward enough for him to reach out and press his fingertips into their skin. He pulls (Y/n) closer, the gun pressing into their side as he enjoys the feeling of having them flushed to his chest.

“I could kill you so easily and no one would know…” He buries his nose in their neck, the cold metal pressing a little harder into their skin as his hold on them tightens. Deku feels the tremble in their breathing and it almost makes him chuckle as he’s quick to reassure, “A shot here would cause quite a bit of damage, but not an immediate kill-” He digs the barrel more into their skin, almost enough to leave an indent, before he lifts it to their forehead with a degrading laugh, “Here would definitely kill you immediately”

His hand eases down their side, relishing in the soft feeling of their skin and giving weightless squeezes. He stops just above their hip, fingertips brushing over the waistband of their underwear (which he ensures to pull back enough to startle them, but not really harm them), before his fingers slowly ease up with feather-like touches. He pulls back a bit and lifts the gun to their chin to have their (e/c) eyes meet his. The look they gave him seemed vacant, yet submissive in a way he wasn’t used to seeing from them. It causes a small ping in his heart and a soft shade to come to his face once he realizes just how close he was to the very naked (Y/n) in the middle of his apartment. 

“Stuff like this would leave you vulnerable during an assignment, y’know? I won’t always be there to protect you from getting taken advantage of…” He’s quick to back away, lifting their hand and setting the gun there. He closes their hand around the trigger, circling around and leading them to hold the gun up properly, “So I might as well teach you how to use it, right? A thank you gift”

He ignores the warm feeling in his chest at having them pressed against his body again (this time with the added bonus of him being more self aware) and continues with his instructing, pulling away to let them try at shooting at the target just above his desk. He throws advice towards them here and there as he grounds himself against, thinking over just how he was going to get through the rest of this without his feelings developing beyond this point.

He reminds himself that he was just trying to warn himself of this very things, his hands reaching over carefully and helping them aim just a little better. It allows him to get a feel for how cold they are, their goosebumps riled up against the skin of his palm enough indication. He tugs his jacket off before he carefully drapes it over their shoulders, lifting the wet shirt from before off the ground, “Go ahead and get comfortable again while I take care of this. The food’s right down the road”

“Hey, Izuku? I meant what I said about trusting you, even if it costs me my life in the long run…” He originally took their nod a bit ago as an okay sign of where they’d just left off and it would’ve been enough confirmation for him to retreat with the wet clothing in his hand. However, he stops once he hears them speak up for the first time since he forcefully interrogated their loyalty to him and their words are enough for his heart to pound in his chest a different way than the original adrenaline he’s used to feeling when having someone swear their allegiance to him, “I’ll do what I’ve got to if it means helping you after everything you’ve helped me with this past month”

Typically, Deku doesn’t find himself too concerned with those he signs contracts with. The process is cut and dry: He helps them and they help back. How they go about their lives after has nothing to do with him as long as they’re not caught snitching. He’s seen various different responses and scenarios play out with these random civilians, situations he’s learned to let happen as they are because they’re out of his jurisdiction. He knows he could probably save a few lives if he wanted with the power he has baking behind him and maybe he could save certain people from prison, even if they put themselves there.

None have managed to make him tear up the way he currently did. He realizes just how attached he’s gotten to (Y/n) in a little over a month (which is really a big jump when compared to the literal months he’s spent with others that were nothing more than irritating) and it’s so hard for him to just accept that they’ve taken the job without much hesitation or question. He knows what that can mentally do to a person, he’s seen it before his own eyes. There have been more than many times someone’s realized they got screwed over after putting everything they had into a job and then for them to take a gun, knife, or maybe even using their own quirk to take that last breath. He’s never been so… concerned over how someone’s life would be majorly fucked from agreeing to his terms.

And all he’s really left to do is mentally reprimand himself for allowing himself to get so attached to some random sex worker he met by chance in the midst of moving into his apartment building. This was going to be a little more than a mess of blood on his hands when he finally gets that support item.

#midoriya izuku #midoriya x reader #izumonth collab #izumonth collab fic #izumonth #izucult server #bnha midoriya #mha midoriya #midoriya izuku x reader #villain deku x reader #villain!deku #villain deku #tw gun use #tw: gun use

[chaos-caffeinated]

Emotions can help you remember Part 2 (Sebastian Michaelis x reader)

 A/N: Part two is here, excited as always, so I hope you enjoy it as much as I did. Thank you so much for the comments, for the support. I did not know that I had the date set to that day, I thought it was the 19th, but oh well, it’s done. I hope this second part satisifes as the continuing part. 

Not requested

Rated: NSFT/W, 18+

~~~

Yes, I do love using Gifs that send a chill down your back, it may even help trigger some emotions for sexual purposes ding ding :)

Also extra note, Microsoft Bing Translator was used, so 1) Do not come at me for any mistakes 2) Do not start requesting stories in French please, gracias! 

Part 1: https://chaos-caffeinated.tumblr.com/post/623644027625127936/emotions-can-help-you-remember-13-sebastian-x

The moment you heard the bell when someone walked into the shop, you greeted them. While Nina was busy tailoring in the back, you were in charge with inventory; looking up you greeted the client with a smile, “Hello, welcome to- Earl of Phantomhive, it’s so good to see you again.” You perked up, setting down your quill and walking around the counter to greet him, “What brings you here today, Lord Phantomhive? I can call over Madam to prepare your tailoring.”

The earl nodded at you in acknowledgement, even replying, “There’s no need for that, Miss. (L/N). Actually I am here to ask Nina for a favor, but I need both of your presence.”

Confused, you just had to nod, “Of course, I’ll be right back.”

You head towards the back and Ciel called forward Sebastian, “Sebastian, see what you can know about her and you can decide on it.”

He nods, placing his hand over his chest and leaning forward, “Yes, my lord.” He smirked softly and stood up on point when Nina and you walked out. 

“Lord Phantomhive? You wanted to see us?” Nina asked in a confused manner, but remaining straight.

“Yes, I wanted to ask about Miss. (L/N) living at my manor for a few days. I figure you would be busy, so I wanted Miss. (L/N) to take note on what outfits-...”

While you and Nina listened, Sebastian strolled his way to your side, tapped on your shoulder softly. When you turn to glance at him, he had that same smirk he always possess on his pale face with piercing red eyes and nodded his head subtly towards the backroom, enticing you further. However, you were ready to say no to pay attention to the earl when he raised his hand to yours and pulled lightly, his grip on your fingers were light, but they guided you to the backroom you were previously in.

How he managed to get your own body to obey his silent commands were unknown. Since the last meeting, you were curious for more, you were beginning crave more of him. His comments, his words, his teasing yet professional manners were all getting to you. But you needn't him enough to go after him.

You asked in a whisper, “Sebastian, what is this about?” You asked confused, “Why does Lord Phantomhive want me to spend a few days in his manor?”

Instead of answering your questions, he added a few of his instead, “I was actually just going to ask you about this. Tell me, Miss. (L/N), how did you come about to work for Miss. Hopkins?"

Hesitant about revealing some information, you lightly shrugged, "My father works as a merchant, and I started working with him since I was 8. When I began to work, the sales increased dramatically until Madam stepped foot in the store when I was 17. She said because of my 'beauty' that she would help me obtain enough money to help my parents live a peaceful life without having to struggle. I'll occasionally have some modeling sessions with her clothing, and well...that's about it."

Sebastian crossed his arms over his chest, raising the back of his clothed forefinger to the bottom of his lip as he stood there in thought, "So I assume you asked about her teaching tailoring to do more than modeling?"

You nodded with a smile, "Yes, she has such a charisma and how joyful she is to create clothes for people is just inspiring. I would be lying if I said I didn't want to do it."

Your smile shifted into a softer one, gazing back into a memory, "It gives me the power to gift others the opportunity to feel just as good as the elite."

The corner of his lip curved slightly as he offered a deal, assuming that you would take up on it, "Then for a few days, would you grant us the wish of you appearing as the guest of honor in the incoming ball?"

"A guest of honor in a ball? That means a lot Sebastian and I thank you, but...why?"

"My young master is going to host a party in celebration of the successful partnership with the Northern countries. It's because of you that it managed to be so." He charmed his close-eyed smile, "It would be an honor to have your presence. It would definitely be if I got to see you once more." His tone slightly shifted into his sultry one. Even his eyes radiated something, but you couldn't pinpoint what it was.

You felt a small chill down your spine, barely noticeable in his eyes, but you kept pressing, "But me? I didn't do anything but provide a suit for the lord. It's a material for many, so surely it can't be because of that."

He was taken aback from the response, he thought you would be greedy like everybody else, but you had common sense in you. Questioning, acquiring the knowledge needed. It surprised him to see that in you.

"Being the guest of honor grants you the opportunity to meet with many patrons, with future clients for Miss. Hopkins and yourself. You said you wanted to help your parents, your success here in meeting with the guests can aid in your dream at a faster pace."

When he saw your eyes widen slightly in realization, he felt the ease of getting to you was accomplished. He was ordered to get you on board with the invitation, tell his master about your history which cleared out. Because you were a noble woman, you wouldn't back out from an opportunity to help the ones you treasured. With that he had you in his grip, a step closer to not only his master's wish to use her in his plan to trap a murderer amongst the noblemen the Queen ordered to get rid of, but also his desire. He had grown to lust, to search for a simple toy whilst in contract, yet here he was obtaining the information for his selfish wants as well.

"...So Lord Phantomhive is asking Madam for permission so that I stay with you until the ball?..." Your voice trembled with nervousness as you were hit with a dilemma. You wanted to quit the modeling, having the eyes of other people made you feel uncomfortable. You tried so hard that you even asked Madam about teaching you how to tailor, but the man in front of you- the mysterious man- was giving you an opportunity to reach higher by just attending a formal event.

"Yes, at the moment they are. In the meantime, we can discuss about further responsibilities to avoid any problems."

"Well I'm sure Lord Phantomhive can help me on that then-" You were about to walk out when you see his arm place outward in front of you, his hand placed on the wall.

You stopped immediately, looking at his arm before you saw him at your peripheral.

Sebastian leaned his face forward, quiet as he stared at your reaction with his eyes half-lid and his lips pulled into a smug smirk.

“Miss. (L/N), you will be a great addition in our current situation. Having you on board can prove a good time for you as well. My master may be distracted with business partners, but his servants will be in alert if there is any discomfort. If you ever need me -in any case- I will be there in a second.” The hand beside your head guided towards your chin, softly grabbing with his forefinger resting underneath it, and his thumb gently pressing against your lips, "Like I mentioned before, it would be a great honor for me if you attended..." and he leaned closer and closer to your lips.

Your eyes widen as your cheeks darken with a pink/red hue, and you moved your head aside from his hand and face getting closer. You wondered what he was doing, you wondered if you genuinely had that affect on him, but you had to stay alert.

Upon this, Sebastian was surprised as well, smirking softly and closing his eyes before backing away completely. She was smart, and she was indeed unlike other girls who would take up on the opportunity.

“A-A-and this is because... because of my ‘beauty’?... That’s the qualification?” You closed your eyes for a moment, pinching the bridge of your nose before completely turning to the man ahead of you. If it weren’t for this, you would be blushing as you see him nearly hovering over you. His eyes seemed much darker, his bangs nearly coverng them, “It would be a brilliant way to cast your beauty, and if the compensation is not enough -or interest- we can arrange that in a meeting. I’m sure anything you ask for can be arranged, I assure you as such. It can be for Miss. Hopkins as well.” He smirked softly. 

You thought for a moment, sighing softly in reluctance, “You’re very convincing, but is my presence alone the only thing needed for this event?”

Sebastian stood back, his arms crossed in a soft manner while he brought one hand up to his chin, rubbing softly, “There is one thing. We may need you to speak in fluent French, many guests there prefer to speak French for an unknown reason.” 

“Wait- I-I don’t know French.” you added to which Sebastian stare at you with a semi-surprised expression, “You don’t? Well I assumed that because you worked under Miss Hopkins she would have taught you-”

You shook your head in response, “She always speaks English to me unless they are simple phrases like, ‘Bonjour, Comment-’ ... uhm...vas-tchu?” You were already messing up your pronounciation to which the butler simply stared at you with the best attempt of sympathizing. 

Letting out a breath, he shook his head, “Well, it can’t be helped.” Then he smiled small, “I can provide the help needed to ensure that you do speak fluent French. You can even surprise Miss. Hopkins and avoid any language barriers within.” He offered a warm smile which you reciprocated, “Alright, wait you are going to be teaching me?” you askeed confused.

“Yes, I will.” He nodded, his smile shifting into a prideful one, almost like he was giddy to show off his ability to speak French.

“But you don’t sound like Madam at all.” You bluntly stated as you acknowledged the lack of accent.

What came out of his mouth surprised you nonetheless: “Un humain en particulier que vous devez avoir remarqué de tels détails, mais attendu de la benficiaire de Nina. Ce sera amusant à coup sûr, car je vais m’assurer de vous donner autant que l’attention, mon petit chaton.”

The way he suddenly showed you up with this second language made you not only blush, but sense a chill. His voice enunciating each syllable with ease like it was his native language made your heart flutter. You almost prefer him talking that way from now on, but you were not only blinded, but deaf of his subtle approaches. 

“...So you do speak french.” You confirmed, speechless from the action.

Smiling with his eyes closed, a confident, yet playful smile, he responded, “Why yes, a Phantomhive butler who can’t do this much isn’t worth his salt, I would have high hopes for your success in learning a new, wonderful language, but I know all my students are succesful when it comes to speaking French.”

When he said that, you couldn’t help but ask, “You taught Lord Phantomhive French? A butler?” You asked curiously as you tilted your head to the side a bit.

Smirking smugly, he replied, “I’m not just a mere butler, my lady. I’m simply one hell of a butler.”

A series of chills traveled down your spine as his eyes darken and his smirk remained, catching a glimpse of his whites, a sharp canine tooth showing itself. With his response, you felt pulled towards him, now a sense of being with him getting stronger. INstead of replying, you simply turned to walk to the main room witha  soft blush across your cheeks as Nina was going to tell you with excitement to participate in the ball. Sebastian, on the other hand, had a soft smile on his face, his features no longer had his previous intent. He had gone back to his façade butler character as he hid the fact that he was soon going to take fully advntage of you when you two enter the  manor. 

~~

Currently sitting in front of the earl in the carriage, you simply remained staring at his boots out of respect.

“As much as I respect your manners, Miss. (L/N), I’m sure your neck is sore, please just look up.” He commented, his arms were crossed as he crossed one leg over the other. 

Just like he guessed, your neck was slightly strained from keeping it at a certain angle for a long time, “I’m sorry my lord, I just don’t want to offend you any way.” You responded with honesty as he focus went from the outside fields to your face, “I appreciate that, but you don’t have to worry about that. You are a guest of honor, please do relax.” He smirked lightly, his left blue eye glinting softly, “I’m sure Sebastian explained why we needed you?”

You nodded, “Yes, my lord. A guest honor to your incoming ball?”

He nods in response, “Yes, but in addition you will be further aiding in providing extra clients for Miss. Hopkins which can help your experience with tailoring as well.”

“Yes, but if I may ask, my lord...why go that far for me to be a guest honor when I'm simply a tailor?...”

“Good question, Sebastian commented that since very little people are aware of you, it would be a great way to expand the opportunities from a wider stance. You have skills, you are smart, you need a lot more practice and how when clients occur weekly or monthly. And please, start calling me Ciel, it would be more appropiate."

“Ciel...” You pronounced it, testing it, “It’s a beautiful name.” You complimented, watching as he hesitated a smile, “Thank you.”

“However, if I have to call you Ciel, you can just call me (Y/N).” you smiled warmly.

Now he smiled small, his weight shifting underneath, “(Y/N), it’s a beautiful name.” 

Ciel smiled softly before traveling over at the window to watch the scenary while recalling some events.

~

Sebastian knocked on the door only for Ciel to respond, "Come in."

Opening the door, Sebastian walked in and closed the door. He strolled over in front of the mahogany desk and reached out his arm, "A letter from the Queen, my lord." He gazed downwards.

Ciel was writing on a paper when he sat up, placed down the quill and took the letter. Opening it and silently reading it indifferently by himself, he hummed afterwards, "Seems we have a rotten apple in our bunch." He commented and set down the letter to focus on his dessert Sebastian brought earlier.

"Indeed, if it remains there, the others will rotten as well." Sebastian smirked, "What's your plan, my lord?"

"The murderer seems to appear in the parties, so he is invited." He sighed, "Honestly, if I have to create a party here just to catch it then it would be annoying since I have so much work to do." He chewed on his dessert when Sebastian spoke up.

"It's unfortunate we can't perform the ‘Robin’ again." He smiled smugly as Ciel choked on the last piece, blushing hard as he looked at him with an angry expression, "Shut up! I forbid you to ever speak of that event! That was utterly embarrassing, you know it."

Sebastian raised his hand to cover his mouth, "Really, I thought you were a splendid lady." He teased with a taunting tone as he chuckled into it.

Ciel felt a chill down his back as he was enraged with the teasing demon, "I said shut up!" He huffed into his chair, "Anyways..." He raised a fist to cough lightly in an attempt to brush it off, "We may have to use a decoy to this party, someone rarely anybody knows of."

Sebastian nods subtly, "Yes, I agree. What about Miss. (L/N)? I do believe she would fit the qualifications to be a decoy in the trap."

Ciel picked up the letter and read it again, "She does seem to fit the profile the murderer selects his victims from." He sighs, "Very well-..." He view the letter once more before becoming bewildered.

"Something the matter, my lord?"

"...Fluency in French. For some reason the murderer likes girls who speak french." Ciel commented in an irritant tone, "Does Miss. (L/N) even speak french?"

Sebastian pondered on it, rubbing his chin softly with his finger, "I'm uncertain about that. Judging by her accent, no, but you don't have an accent either despite being bilingual as well. How about we trick her into being a guest of honor, but not disclosing that with that with the guests?"

He sighed as he placed down the letter, "Fine by me, just don’t mention anything to her about the case.” He raised the cup up to his lips and sipped on the tea. 

Sebastian’s cornered lips perked up as he placed his hand over his chest and leaned forward, “Yes, my lord.”

Ciel glanced at the demon ahead of him and pondered what true intentions he had with the lady at the tailor shop. Of all the other women laying around, the name that came out of his mouth belonged to you, it was a recent visit too. Nonetheless, he just wanted the case solved.  

~

When the carriage stopped in front of the mansion, Sebastian opened the door with his head bowed slightly, “We’ve arrived, my lord.”

After Ciel walked out, you followed, admiring the manison. 

You were hopeful that you were going to have fun being with these two without realizing you were going to risk you own life as well. 

#Black Butler #sebastian michaelis #sebastian michaelis x reader #kuroshitsuji #chaos #sebastian michaelis nsft #sebastian michaelis smut #black butler #kuroshitsuji smut

[outlier-rookie]

Of Blood And Greatness - Chapter 3

Chapter 3/?? - Settling In With Some Concerns

AO3 Link

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26305741/chapters/71331201

***

The next few chapters might be a bit slow pace wise because I want to build up a few more interactions between Reader and the Gang members. Don’t worry, we’ll get to the action soon enough.

TRIGGER WARNING: Anxiety/Panic Attack

***

“Wow (Y/N)! You’re as strong as Uncle Arthur!” (Y/N) paused long enough to shoot Jack a cheeky grin as they continued their path towards the horses, slowly carrying the last hay bale. The tall skittish fella, Kieran, had tried to offer to take the bales instead but (Y/N) was insistent that it wasn’t that heavy and they were no stranger to hard work and heavy lifting. Miss Karen had also had a good laugh with the other girls about the teen putting the likes of Bill and Sean to shame with how much heavy lifting they did around camp. Mrs. Grimshaw, as scary as she was at times, was also quick to praise (Y/N)’s hard work and help with the camp chores.

It had been a few days since everything that happened up near Cattail Pond and as the teen feared, Dutch was less than pleased with the total sum brought back to camp. But like Arthur had promised he was also understanding and despite (Y/N) feeling like they hadn’t delivered on their promise, Dutch welcomed them into the ragtag family of outlaws with a speech and fanciful words of things only getting better from here.

Still, the teen spent their days mulling over their failure with a hollow feeling sitting in the pit of their stomach. Mr. Hosea had sat next to them by the campfire one night with stew in hand and talked about nothing in particular. He started telling short stories from the gang's past and it didn’t click until the teen was falling asleep that night but the stories all had similar feelings to their blunder with the money. (Y/N) fell asleep smiling at the stars that night, putting the memory of Dutch’s ill-concealed disappointment behind them.

***

“Arthur! Welcome back son.” Dutch was sat by his tent smoking a cigar as Arthur led (Y/N) over to him. “So!” he started, standing with his arms extended; whether it was meant in a divine or welcoming manner, (Y/N) wasn’t entirely sure. “How’d your little excursion go?”

“’Fraid we ain’t getting to Tahiti or Australia with what we recovered.” The grizzled outlaw started. “Seems that someone else got to the stash before young (Y/N) here and took most of what we had.” Something in the teen's stomach dropped as the light in Dutch’s eyes seemed to dim slightly. The dark-haired man hummed and folded one arm across his chest, the other bringing his cigar back to his lips. He paused for a moment breathing slowly, the smoke flowing past his lips before being taken by the breeze.

“How much did you get then?” He finally asked

“Would have had ‘bout one third.”

“’Would have’?” (Y/N) shifted nervously and refused to meet Dutch’s eyes, ashamed that they had disappointed this man.

“O’Drisscols.” Arthur replied. “Weren’t the kids' fault. They ambushed us as we were crossing Cumberland Falls. Some of the money went over the falls. Didn’t want to risk staying around in case the law came snooping around. Was a pretty big scene.”

“I see.”

(Y/N) timidly raised their head to find Dutch’s piercing eyes once again focused on them. An old but familiar feeling of helplessness gnawed at their insides, causing their stomach to twist. As their instincts yelled at them to hide, Arthur stepped forward slightly and half placed himself between them and Dutch.

“It wasn’t their fault Dutch.”

“And you can be absolutely sure about that Arthur?”

“As a matter of fact, I can. If they was working with the O’Driscolls to set a trap, then they would have shot me and not three of Colm’s boys.”

Dutch actually seemed surprised by this.

“Sounds like they weren’t embellishing their skills with a gun.” Hosea’s smoother voice was like a cool balm on (Y/N)’s nearly fried nerves.

“Damn right. Them idiots didn’t know what hit em. Kid put them all down with one bullet each.” Arthur replied, stepping back some. An unexpected swift and heavy pat on the back sent the teen stumbling slightly and (Y/N) swore they saw a slight grin on Arthur’s face.

***

“You ok there?” (Y/N nearly dropped the horse brush they were using, as Charles’ deep voice startled them out of their thoughts.

“Y-Yeah! Sorry, was just thinking. Did you uh, need something Mr. Charles?” Charles smiled and the minor change in his breathing suggested silent laughter.

“You can just call me Charles you know.” (Y/N) scrunched their face-up made a noise that was a mix between disagreement and something a bit lighter than disgust which drew another silent laugh from Charles before he continued. “Pearson was complaining that the camps getting low on meat so I offered to go hunting for him. You’ve got a good eye and steady hands so I figured I’d ask if you’d like to come.”

“Really?” Excitement bubbled up inside at the thought of being able to do more than just chores around the camp. (Y/N) could only lug so much water and carry so many sacks before it got repetitive and boring. They weren’t strong enough to properly chop firewood and Mrs. Grimshaw and practically chased them away from laundry and sewing after the first hour. “When you leaving?”

“As soon as possible. I’ll ready the horses while you grab your gun.”

“R-Right! Just give me five. I need to check my satchel.”

With a soft ‘Alright’ from Charles, (Y/N) dropped the horse brush by the hitching post and jogged across the camp towards the medicine wagon. A ratty lean-to was set up next to it and under it an old bedroll. It wasn’t a whole lot but it was more than they had before joining the gang. The well-used bedroll wasn’t nearly as soft as their bed back at Estelle’s home. A small framed photograph of the woman peeked out from under the corner of the bedroll. The faint reminder of the woman who could be sweet as honey one moment and mean enough to give an angry Mrs. Grimshaw a run for her money brought a familiar pang of guilt to the teen. Bitterly they pushed the feelings and memories away and turned the picture over, hiding away from the loving eyes of a woman hundreds or thousands of miles away.

(Y/N) blindly stuffed a few items in their satchel and reached for their gun. Their fingers had barely grazed the sun-warmed metal before they jerked their hand back as if it had burnt. Glassy blue eyes stared blankly at the gun laying on the ground, seemingly mocking them from its pathetic position.

Stupid child.

What were you expecting?

These people were outlaws.

They were no stranger to killing other people.

If you want to survive in their world, it's either shoot first or get dead.

It was hard to breathe as (Y/N) felt their chest tighten like a red hot metal vice had been wrapped around their chest. An old familiar panic started settling into their whole being, starting in their stomach before it wrapped its tendrils around their bones before boring its way into their throat and brain. The air itself caught in their throat and their vision was starting to blur slightly when a hot and heavy pressure made its presence known when it landed solidly on the teen's shoulder.

“Woah there! ‘Sokay! ‘Sokay kid, you’re alright ya hear?” The voice was deep and familiar and most importantly grounding. Still, it took a second for the pressure on their chest to dissipate enough and allow a cool, fresh breath to fill their burning lungs. Blinking, (Y/N) realised that some tears had gathered in their eyes and quickly moved to brush them away, sniffling as they did. Finally, they were able to look up as see Arthur crouching next to them, his brows furrowed gently as he watched them.

“Everything alright Arthur?” (Y/N)’s eyes flicked up to the approaching figure of Hosea.

“We’re fine Hosea. I just startled them is all.” Arthur replied easily. Hosea stood by for a moment before slowly approaching the teen, not too dissimilar to how one would approach a scared animal.

“You alright?” His soft, aged voice reminded the teen of Estelle once more.

“Y-Yeah.” They mumbled. “’M sorry. Dunno what came over me.” They looked away from the two men, eyes once again landing on their repeater as once again a wave of hot white anger flowed through their veins. A weight in their dominant hand drew their attention and (Y/N) suddenly understood why Arthur and Hosea were acting so cautious towards them.

In their hand was their trusty knife, the bronze metal gleaming dangerously in the sunlight. It quickly dawned on the teen that they had pulled it on reflex when Arthur had startled them. A hot flush of shame and embarrassment flooded through them as they frantically shoved the knife back into its sheath.

“Those are some damn fine reflexes you got kid.” Arthur said. The words may have formed a compliment but the tone was wrong and questioning. (Y/N) didn’t want to answer. They just groaned out a vague noise of agreement and pointedly avoided looking at the two men and finished packing their satchel. Slinging the strap over their shoulder the teen all but bolted past Arthur and Hosea making their way back to the horses where Charles stood waiting, making some final adjustments to Taima’s saddle. His movements held some extra tension and (Y/N) just knew that he had seen their little incident and the heat returned to their chest.

“Ain’t we going to go? Mr. Pearson needs meat, doesn’t he?” They snapped.

“You don’t have to come if you-”

“I’m fine!” They cut him off. “Come on.” They huffed, barely resisting the urge to stamp their foot. They were fifteen and basically a grown-up and grown-ups didn’t stomp their feet like toddlers when they were angry. A heavy hand was placed on their shoulder once more.

“Alright then kid.” Arthur said. His gruff voice was uncharacteristically soft. “Mount up. And let’s get goin’.” Gently, Arthur nudged them towards Fortuna who nickered and shoved her nose into (Y/N)’s chest. The mare huffed as the teen half-heartedly scratched her cheeks before silently climbing on. Fortuna shook her mane out and turned as much as she could, keeping an eye on her rider. She let loose another whine as she tried to nose (Y/N) again.

“I’m alright girl.” The whispered, pulling a carrot from one of the many pockets in their satchel and offering it to the worrisome mare. Fortuna took the carrot without protest and calmed as (Y/N) stroked her neck. Tugging on the reins, (Y/N) directed the mare’s head towards the path out of camp. Charles and Arthur were on the backs of Taima and Admiral. Not obviously watching them but also doing exactly that with incredible obviousness for two seasoned outlaws. Huffing, the teen kicked and urged Fortuna forward

***

I started hitting a wall with this chapter towards the end so the ending may feel somewhat abrupt. I didn’t have the energy to beta read this or whatever so all mistakes are mine.

I have a better plan for what will happen in the next chapter or two

#rdr2 x reader #rdr2 x male reader #rdr2 x gn reader #rdr2 x female reader #rdr2 fanfic #red dead redemption 2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 #rdr2 #of blood and greatness

[nadiris-hq]

GOOD EVENING. IT’S SATURDAY SEPTEMBER FOURTH, IN DOWNTOWN NADIRIS CITY, AND THIS IS EYEWITNESS FUJI NEWS, REPORTING ON LOCATION. BUILDING LOT 666 IS NOW SURROUNDED IN WHAT APPEARS TO BE A SHADOW OF FUMES — 

Neon lights bled through puffs of smoke to fashion a haze of beautiful transparent clouds. Truth be told, the city had never looked so beautiful. The phenomenon was reported on for the entire weekend. Stories streamed by various institutions, stations, and vloggers accounted for a high speed chase that ended in the demolition of the building. Roads were marked off, and safety officials were stationed at intersections to redirect traffic away from the main street. From Friday, 11 o’clock at night, well into the daybreak of Sunday morning, most entries into downtown Nadiris were heavily monitored by law enforcement drones and AI patrol bots.  

Those of the underground know the real story, which began weeks prior... 

The orders started out simple. Parking Lot 666 was gaining the attention of a team of respected investigators. Uncleared foot traffic, reports of suspicious activity, and the snarling sounds coming from the building were signs the CCG couldn’t exactly ignore any longer. The board of directors were split in their decisions: hearsay, recordings of masked individuals, and anonymous tips were not substantiated. Half of the team wanted more time to explore their options– the other half wished for nothing but extermination.

A team of undercover investigators were instructed to gather enough evidence to surround the building, and take a peek inside, nothing more. And yet, later that night, the CCG would initiate a code red. 

The raid would then begin unplanned. Despite the much needed caution, the investigation unfurled, and because the order was given exactly how it shouldn’t have been,– fueled by emotion, and in haste–– the board of directors have since been on edge. Never has the CCG ever had to defend their competency in leading their investigations against the Aogiri. 

Regardless, the outcome was a bit of a success. The first grenade of its kind was launched into the depths of the dark lot, where many of the suspects were rendered incapacitated. RC grenades, as they’ve been called, were but the only defense the Doves had until back-up was reinforced. Their efforts were valiant, but those on the front lines of the investigation were soon to lose their lives, since the RC grenades couldn’t hold the hordes and waves of newborn hybrids. 

Stronger mildly-harmed ghouls were able to trigger what CCG investigators have only heard of myths of. Kagune signals were sent by subordinates of the Aogiri tree, and down the line, their own reinforcements came in droves. The fight for life and dominance piqued well into the night. As Doves rained fires of Q bullets, Kagune walls and Traps would help defend the tattering shambles of the now found Aogiri hide out. Though the unplanned ambush surprised the Aogiri, the faction had plans of their own–

The final battle ended in a siren blaring through the city which served as a warning for those wounded to retreat and evacuate the area. Once the dust and ash finally settled, Fuji News was on the scene and the first to report on the citywide curfew enacted by city officials, any other news reports have been deleted from the cloud. 

OOC INFO:

SUMMARY: 

PARKING LOT 666 —much like its sister space LOT 668, this is an abandoned lot in the lower Fuji District, just north of Downtown Nadiris. Or rather, it was. The building was recently rumored to be a hangout for hybrid ghouls who’ve been recruited to the Aogiri faction and through use of anonymous tips, undercover spy drones, and hidden alliances, the CCG were able to confirm such rumors as fact. Plans were drafted and quickly executed thereafter, leaving an array of bullet shells and bloodshed from the skirmishes between the Aogiri and the CCG. Casualties were had on both sides, as well as some unaffiliated ghouls caught in the crossfires.

The event occurred in game the first weekend of September, beginning roughly around 11 PM FRIDAY SEPTEMBER 3RD and lasted until 7 AM SATURDAY SEPTEMBER 4TH. The building was completely surrounded and marked off at 8 AM THAT SATURDAY and heavily patrolled and guarded until SUNDAY EVENING SEPTEMBER 5TH. The building is still enclosed with crime scene tape, but is finally free of any CCG activity.

1. FUJI NEWS HAS REPORTED ON ONE STORY ONLY: THE FAKE ONE. 

FUJI eyewitness news has reported on a false high speed chase involving an armed robbery which started at Fuji Mall, and ended at the crime scene. Highway lanes and nearby streets were sectioned off and closed for transportation to and from downtown. Reports claim the suspects were cornered and ultimately brought in for questioning September 4th, 8:00am. 

2. LOCKDOWN INSTATED.

Nadiris City is officially on an unjustifiable lockdown, which is raising some eyebrows of concern. No traveling in, or out of the city for the foreseeable future. All flight plans for traveling to the outer islands have been canceled as well as any autotrain tickets. 

3. DESPITE THE LACK OF PLANNING THE CCG CONSIDERS THIS A VICTORY 

Now that Lot 666 has been fully evacuated and raided, Lot 668 is currently being investigated — this time with more caution. CCG investigators are using all their efforts to infiltrate and gain any evidence to provide more insight on the building. Ghouls are discouraged from meeting in the parking lot, and Aogiri are now being briefed to eliminate any drones, spyware devices, or other outsiders who may incriminate their cause. 

INTRODUCING:

The following have been added to our glossary and are strongly encouraged to be used in any future interactions.

RC GRENADES — otherwise known as control RC gas. an experimental weapon made by the CCG. when released and inhaled by ghouls or hybrids, it begins to affect the respiratory system, weakening and impairing ghouls or hybrids to the point of unconsciousness. 

KAGUNE WALL — a defense mechanism used by ghouls which burrows into the ground and sprouts like a thorn bush or other organic barriers. It extends itself to fill the entire area, making passage impossible.

KAGUNE TRAP — a protective measure, in which the kagune can be buried within any surface, and springs forward for an offensive strike. These traps will lie in wait until nearby movement triggers them, bursting from their hiding place to impale what has set them off.

KAGUNE SIGNAL — a signal for help that is able to relay a distress call to any neighboring ghouls. Signals are typically only responded to by a ghoul who is part of the same faction as the one who utilizes the signal, however most ghouls can hear and respond to the signal should they wish to.

IC INFO ( PARTICIPATION IS NOT MANDATORY ):

IN CHARACTER TASK PROMPTS:

Consider how / if your muse was involved in or contributed to the raid. CCG agents would have been alerted by the CODE RED. Ghouls in proximity may have reached kagune signals. Humans and the unaffiliated could have been caught in the crossfires !!

Feel free to explore how your muse feels about the raid. Are they scared or hurt ? Are they feeling successful ? Are they still feeling rage ? 

Will the raid provide caution for your muse? What was the damage to your muse? And did they inflict damage on others? 

What’s the aftermath? Do they know anyone who was injured ? Are they grieving a casualty ? Are they guilty of a body count ? 

How do they feel about the citywide lockdown? Does this derail any of their plans ?

Will they believe Fuji News, or will they be coming up with their own conspiracy theories ?

Reflective self paras are also encouraged should you choose to engage in the task !!

STARTERS:

Starters may consist of any events after the plot drop but are not limited to the previous event !! Reacting to the plot drop IC is completely optional !!

You may also post any flashbacks or travel back in time should muses have any participation in the plot drop !! 

Please tag any flashback interactions, threads, or self paras as ;; nadiris: event, ;; nadiris: task and/or ;; nadiris: plot drop i.

#nadirishq ; announcement #;; nadiris: plot drop i. #;; nadiris: event #;; nadiris: task

[flightrules]

Which Kind Do You Want to Be?

Chapter 6: No Promises

Sometimes, a sleepless night is a good thing.

Summary: This is a story about trust and kindness, loneliness and loss, belief and transgression. And two people crossing paths just long enough to find each other.

Previous chapters: I keep hearing tumblr suppresses posts with links. So, visit the pinned post on my blog or the same username on AO3.  

Relationships and characters: Din/female reader (both similar age to Din in canon), Grogu, and a cameo from Peli.

Rating: Mature? Explicit? Anyhow, grown-up sexy stuff. Please be old enough to be reading this kind of thing.

Tags and warnings: Moments of angst, domesticity, kindness, explicit consent, and Din doing his best to be a conscientious parent in the midst of everything. Heads up for descriptions of canon-typical violence, mention of past dubious consent, and a moment of (unintentional) violence between our protagonists. Ending is bittersweet.

Supper is the same as the midday meal, cold rations washed down with tinny tasting water. "You eat like this all the time?"

"I try not to," he says. "He needs real food. I haven't had much chance to go shopping."

The child is sitting on your lap now, as you hold his little tray for him and he picks out bites to eat. He's seemed subdued ever since your game of chase went so wrong. 

It's a bit of a balancing act to manage your own meal while keeping the tray steady and the little body balanced. But you turned down the man's offer to take him.

You should be careful about letting the child think there's something changing here, that you'll be a presence in his life. 

It's just so nice to imagine, for a small moment, that you could be. That a child's laughter could be part of your world again.

There's not much conversation over the meal. You're tired and your body still has that vague achy feeling, like it isn't ready to forget getting thrown to your knees. 

The ration trays get washed in the sink again, and then the child gets a bath in the sink again, too.  

"You don't mind, do you?" he asks first. "He doesn't like the sonic shower. I think it's hard on his ears."

You stay at the table while he pushes his sleeves up past his elbows, pops the child into a mess of warm water and soap bubbles, and lets him splash around a bit. By the time the man lifts him out again, there are bubbles all across the counter and water on the floor. "I've told you not to do that," he says mildly as he wraps the child in a towel and, holding him in one arm, swipes a rag across the counter and then uses one foot to wipe the rag along the floor. 

He crouches to pick the rag up again, a perfectly balanced movement with the child cuddled against his chest. 

"I'll let you get him ready for bed," you say, getting up from the table and resisting the urge to go over there and melt yourself against this man. You are not his family, or the child's, and you need to remember it for yourself as much as for the little one.

The bedtime routine consists of a quiet, one-sided conversation, the man narrating all the little things they did today and the child cooing in response. You take the opportunity to use the ‘fresher while he’s busy in the little sleeping room, then spread out your bedroll, stuffing some clean clothes in a carry-sack to serve as a pillow. It's early, but you stretch out and close your own eyes, letting your back and shoulders rest flat against the blanket. 

There's something comforting about his voice, the slight gravel in it, the way almost everything he tells the child is framed as "we." You've never been sure how much the child understands, but you hope he can at least hear how safe he is in this man's care.

You're almost asleep, yourself, by the time he gets to how he hurt you. "I made a mistake," he says, clear and matter-of-fact. "I'll always protect you, but that doesn't mean it's all right to hurt our friend. I want you to know we can trust her. Don't make the same mistake I did."

*

That's very sweet, you think drowsily. As if the tiny creature could do you any harm. 

"Are you awake?"

You open your eyes to find he's standing a couple of meters away. Earlier today you might have thought that strange, but now you think, Right. No sudden moves.

"May I…" his voice trails off.

You sit up, making room for him to join you. And now it's your turn to ask, as he's left a careful few centimeters space between. "I'd like to touch you."

His voice is quiet, his usual confident tone sounding suddenly half strangled. "I'd like that."

You don't do it right away, though. You look at him, contemplating. There are curls falling over his forehead again. The scruff of beard he had yesterday is gone. Did he shave for you, or is that just something he does every few days? With the helmet covering his face all the time, he certainly wouldn't have to worry about looking neat. 

Loose as it is, the shirt he's wearing does nothing to hide his solid-looking shoulders, and you've already seen the shape of his chest and waist from the t-shirt he had on this morning. Stars, that was so long ago.

You turn your body toward him and reach out, so slowly, to skim your hands over his hips and under his shirt, pushing the fabric up to bare the flat plane of his stomach, and then a little more so your hands are framing the bottom of his ribs. "Help me?" you say, meaning help me get your shirt off, but he's just staring at you, lips slightly parted, not moving at all.

"You tell me if you want me to stop," you remind him, and then get up onto your knees so you can lift his shirt further. The bruises from earlier remind you to move carefully, but you're able to shift your weight so it almost doesn't hurt to kneel.

He has dark hair across his chest. You resist the urge to run your thumb across one nipple, instead asking him more clearly to lift his arms so you can get the shirt over his head.

He does, now, taking over with a single smooth movement and then actually stopping to fold the thing and set it aside. 

There's something about that that makes your heart hurt. That makes you think you could fall in love with him, if you had the opportunity to try.

You do finally have the chance to see what happens when you drag your teeth across his ribs. You start at his collarbone, lining kisses from neck to shoulder, then down over the muscles of his chest. As you do you can feel his breathing quicken, turning to a gasp as you go from soft kisses to the scrape of teeth. You should probably remind him to breathe but now you're tracing your tongue along a pale line of scar where, you realize, the beskar breastplate doesn't reach.

His hands on your shoulders stop you. He's gentle but firm, guiding your body back upright, giving you plenty of time to fight it if you want to. 

You don't want to. 

"Show me how to kiss you," he says. 

"It takes practice." Kissing a new partner's mouth usually starts out clumsy and uncoordinated, until you find each other's rhythm.

"We have until morning," he says. 

It is, indeed, uncoordinated at first. He's obviously got the general idea--you can't spend 40-something years in this galaxy without seeing what people do--but no idea how to actually do it. He's a quick learner, though, echoing back your movements until he's got the hang of it. And then that precision kicks in and he's got your mouth trapped beneath his, tongue at the corner of your lips and then gently opening you up to his warmth, and you're the one who's forgetting how to breathe.

It's new to him and it's been a while for you, and the two of you end up making out like teenagers for a while, his hand against your jaw and your fingers in his hair, and when you need to catch your breath you bury your head in his shoulder until gently insistent hands lift your face to his again.

What stops you is a small sound from the child. You might not even have noticed it, coming from behind the metal door, but he's already turning his head to listen. He kisses your forehead before getting up to trigger the controls.

The noises from the hammock sound like sobs. 

"Hey," the man tells him, sitting on the edge of the mattress, leaning in to lay a hand over the little body. "Whatever it is, I'm here." He turns to you. "He cries in his sleep sometimes. Usually I sing to him."

"Then you should." You get up to go sit beside him on the floor and lean your head against his knee. It's the same lullaby you heard that first night on board the Razor Crest. He can barely carry a tune but that's all right, you don't know the melody anyway and you don't understand the words. You stay there for a while even after the child's cries have stopped, as he continues through a half-dozen verses, you resting against him and his hand against your hair.

*

More of the evening disappears into figuring out his body, into his hands finding confidence in how to touch your skin. 

The last time someone touched you with such reverence, you were probably sixteen years old, trying new things for the first time with a boy you'd grown up with, whose body you'd seen change as you both slipped toward adulthood. He's long gone, that boy, not even buried, just lost in the ash that used to be your home.

Your shirt's off now, too, and he folded it for you, and you can't even explain why that makes you ache inside.

He's tracing your breasts with his fingertips, light against your skin but following every curve. He seems to know, by instinct maybe, to leave your nipples until they're aching for him to touch, and then to follow his fingers with his mouth, with his tongue and then lips and then, so very gently, with his teeth. He's got you panting, your fingers digging hard into his shoulder until you suddenly realize that's the side that was bothering him and you drop your hand. 

He looks up at you, and it takes him a minute to find words. "What's wrong?"

You're slow to make sense, too. "You--you're hurt, I don't want to--" 

He looks down at his own shoulder, the one you were working on together this morning. Then he's pulling you in to him, so very slow again and careful, until you're skin to skin against his body, your breasts pressed up against the muscle of his chest, his head bent down to yours. "Thank you," he says, and it's a whisper against your temple and then just the two of you breathing together for a while, the hum off the ship's engines the only other sound.

You know the shapes of the muscles on his back now. You've run your fingers along the grooves between them. You know now how his skin feels different over scars, and how the burn scar at his neck is different from the knife scar on his side. 

You were surprised to find the small, circular bump of a contraceptive implant on his arm, and at first you looked at him in accusation. From what he’s told you, he shouldn’t have needed it. But he just shrugged. "When I swore the Creed," he said, "I swore I would care for any child I made. I've never been in a place to be able to care for a child." You could feel your eyebrows go up as you nodded toward his bunk, where the tiny being in his care was sleeping. "I'm still not," he said. "It seemed like a good idea, to make sure it couldn't happen." 

He knows the most sensitive spot on your neck by now, and he knows the way you'll move your head if he kisses you there. He knows that if he runs his hands over your belly you'll jump at first, ticklish, but then lean into his touch if he uses a little more pressure. He's figured out what happens if he traces the shell of your ear with his tongue. 

Right now you're kneeling behind him, one hand on his chest, one finger sliding over a stiffened nipple while the other hand traces the hair that trails down his abdomen to the waistband of his trousers. For the first time, you slide your fingertips beneath the fabric. His hand comes up to wrap around your wrist and hold your arm still.

But he doesn't tell you to stop. 

You tuck your chin over his shoulder and ask him if you should.

He doesn't answer. He's sitting up straighter, though, that uncomfortable posture you'd started to hope he'd left behind.

Carefully, you move your hands from his body, and his fingers slide from your wrist as you do. You shift around to face him. 

Slow. You promised him slow. 

Your own body is edging toward impatience. You've been wet for him for hours and, although you're not complaining about any of this so far, there's a sense of emptiness that your body is letting you know, in no uncertain terms, it would like him to fill.

You check in before you move next, get his permission to settle yourself back on his lap, knees to either side of his hips. It lets you press against the length of him through his trousers, and you find you're shivering as the most sensitive part of you connects there.

His voice is a vibration through your own chest as he says, "I can't."

You know you should let go, move back, but your muscles won't listen to your brain until he speaks again, until ingrained reflex takes over when he says the word "Stop." 

He's keeping his hands to himself now, still breathing a little hard but keeping his body constrained. One hand clenches and then slowly opens, coming to rest at his side.

"If we keep going," he says, "I'm going to want you to stay."

Your heart skips for a second, and you're already thinking, yes.

"I can't let you stay." He's sitting so still. His fingers move again, what seems to be an involuntary tic. It's his right hand, the one that would reach for the blaster that's usually at his hip.

"I can't be distracted. If I had to choose between you and the child--"

He doesn't finish. You don't need him to. You reach over, slowly, slowly, and take his right hand. Slowly, you help him open those clenched fingers, and you place a kiss on his palm. "No promises," you remind him. And then, because there's nothing else you can say: "I'm leaving at Pavotha."

It's still so curious, getting to see his face. How sometimes his expressions are open and sometimes they're unreadable, like in all those years with the helmet on he's lost the ability to mirror certain feelings. Lost the muscle memory.

Right now, though, there's no mistaking that you're looking at pure gratitude.

"Do you still want to stop?" you ask him, and you're asking a little bit for him, but it's mostly because your body is longing to see the rest of his, to touch him in new places. To settle in against him, take his cock inside you, and move together until the rest of the galaxy disappears.

"No promises?" he says.

And, although your whole body is screaming at you not to say it, you tell him again: "Only that I'm leaving."

*

If you were planetside, it would be dawn by now. But here in the dimly lit hold, there's only the chrono to tell you it's near morning.

You're not looking at it though.

You're sitting on his lap again, legs around his waist and feet planted against the floor. His hands are on your hips. You showed him how this position works and now he's helping you move, bringing you down against him so his cock is buried deep inside you, holding you so there's pressure against your clit as he presses closer, then lifting your body so the length of him slides against your opening, setting every nerve on fire. You didn't teach him to pause sometimes, keeping your hips in place against him, and lean up to kiss you. He figured that out on his own.

He lasted longer than you might have expected the first time, when you drew his body over you and slow disappeared when he said "Are you sure?" and you said "Yes." And although you guided him in gently, carefully, neither one of you could stop after that. You bit your own lip so hard, trying not to cry out and wake the child, that there was blood on both your faces by the end.

You're going to have to sleep soon, before the child wakes up and the new day starts. But for now you're going to stay like this, your skin slicked with your sweat and his, the taste of him in your mouth, and the sacredness of trust between you.

#the mandalorian #fanfic #din djarin x reader #din djarin needs a hug #touch-starved din djarin #reader character also needs a hug.

[quicksilversquared]

The Lucky Charm

Normally, when an akuma pops up, it's Ladybug (and Chat Noir) who save the day. This time, though, it's the Everyday Ladybug who came to the rescue.

There are...some side effects.

links in the reblog

The akuma showed up ten minutes after Adrien returned to school, all towering body and glowing eyes and snarling mouth. Most of his classmates shrieked and ran, scrambling for the door, but Adrien hadn't had a chance, trapped at the back of the classroom where he had been getting a book and with the akuma's eyes focused right on him.

This Was Not Good.

"I don't understand why you're after me," Adrien said, glancing around as subtly as he could manage, hoping to find an escape route or a distraction or- anything, really. He couldn't leave Ladybug hanging again, not after there had been several akuma lately who had prevented him from transforming and helping her, but he didn't see any obvious escapes. The akuma was blocking his path, and a table had been flipped onto its side in front of the door, meaning that even if he did manage to sneak around the akuma, he still wouldn't be anywhere close to home free. "I didn't think that I had upset anyone today-"

"I was fired!" the Model Model shrieked, making him cringe back. Hopefully Ladybug's Lucky Charm covered hearing damage. "I was fired for being late once, but you- Mr. Boss's Son, Mr. Gets-Everything-Handed-to-You- you're late all the time, and does anyone care? No! Do you get told off? No! Do you get fired? No!"

Adrien very nearly opened his mouth to dispute that- he wasn't late all the time, maybe once or at most twice a month when an akuma attack ended up overlapping with his photoshoot time, and while the photographer never said anything, Adrien's father most definitely found out and told Adrien off afterwards. There were groundings, there were scoldings, there were privileges taken away and extra assignments given to him- but it was pointless to argue with an akuma. It didn't help anything, they didn't remember it, and besides, if there were any of his classmates still around...

Well. There were some things that Adrien didn't tell them.

"So while maybe you weren't the one to fire me, you're hardly Mr. Innocent," the Model Model finished. She glowered at him. "And if Vincent weren't so fed up with your tardiness, then he would have been more forgiving! It's not like it was my fault that I got stuck in traffic!"

"I could speak to him for you," Adrien offered, thinking fast. Surely Ladybug would know about the akuma by now- Alya would have made a post on the Ladyblog, or at the very least triggered the official akuma alert system- and he just had to buy himself some time until she arrived. "Remind him that there's a three-strike over six months policy."

"And how many strikes have you accumulated over the past six months, hmm?"

Adrien winced, trying to come up with another idea. Clearly the akuma wasn't going to stop focusing on Adrien's tardies any time soon, so he had to change tactics. The offers to smooth things over could come later, after Ladybug purified the akuma and set everything to rights. "I, uh..."

Movement at the front of the classroom caught Adrien's eye, and he stuttered to a stop mid-thought, blinking at the spot where he could have sworn he had seen someone ducking behind Madam Mendeleev's desk. Moments later, Marinette's head popped up over the desk, caught his eye, and then vanished again a second later.

What- what was she still doing here? She wasn't trying to pull an Alya and get close to akumas just to get video, was she? Marinette had more sense than that. Maybe there was a table in front of the door, but the akuma wasn't paying attention to Marinette. She should be able to clamber up and over, no problem.

"You don't even have a defense," the Model Model scoffed, drawing Adrien's attention back to her. "Not even a hint! I'll get my revenge on you, and then that damn photographer, and then- oh, I know what the root problem is here, why you're allowed to get away with everything. And I'll get my revenge on Daddy Dearest, too."

Adrien gulped. He hated it when akumas went after his father, even if he was sometimes surprised that there weren't more akumas targeting Mr. Agreste. Still, if an akuma was going to go after either him or his father...

Well, only one of them had the power to stop the akuma and help Ladybug put everything back to right in the city, so if Adrien had to throw his father under the bus to get away, he would.

"I can't always control if I'm tardy or not," Adrien protested, keeping one eye on the akuma and one eye on Marinette, who had snuck out from behind the desk carrying- was she insane? An extension cord, or maybe cords, he couldn't tell- and was creeping up on the Model Model. "Sometimes other activities run over. And I'm not the one who decides if I get to keep modeling or not."

She snarled at him. "I know that. Didn't I just say that I was going to go after your father, too? I know what you're trying to do- escape seeing any actual consequences, just like you always do!"

The Model Model lunged. Adrien threw himself out of the way. Marinette ducked down under desk level, apparently finally aware that the akuma was dangerous and she should make herself scarce. Adrien rolled across the floor, then pushed himself to his feet and tried to make a dash for the door. The akuma blocked him, still trying to hit him with the purse she carried.

The purse, which no doubt held either the akuma or the akumatized item, and which doubled as the Model Model's weapon, if the excessively-destroyed desks were any indication. He would have to point it out to Ladybug, whenever she arrived.

"You can't run and hide this time!" the Model Model snarled, swinging for him again. Adrien ducked and made another short dash, making sure to step over the cord that Marinette had dropped on the floor so that he wouldn't trip over it. "I'll get you! You might as well stop tryi-EEEE!"

Adrien glanced back, just in time to see the Model Model tripping over the cord that he had just avoided, and his mind short-circuited.

Marinette hadn't dropped the cord. She had tied one end to a table leg, left it slack for him to pass over, and then had pulled it tight to trip the akuma before flinging the heavy end just so, sending it wrapping around the akuma's ankle. The Model Model hadn't noticed yet, still thrown off balance and stumbling in her heels.

Marinette was a genius, and- oh. Oh, she wasn't done yet, was she insane? Adrien watched in equal parts disbelief, awe, and terror as Marinette reappeared behind the Model Model- now the akuma was behind her and the door, which would be bad if the akuma spotted her and switched targets- spinning a second cord in her hand like a lasso. Marinette's eyes were narrowed in focus, tracking the Model Model as she stumbled back and forth. Her entire body was tensed and ready to strike, and all Adrien could do was watch.

Well, watch and keep moving himself, now focusing on moving back and forth just out of reach of the Model Model, playing up the distraction as much as he could since he still wasn't in a good spot to get out of the classroom himself. If Marinette was going to try to play Ladybug, then he would help her as much as he could.

Even if he thought that she was totally nuts. Even if she had somehow pulled off the tripping, trying to lasso a supervillain was just complete, utter madness. Ladybug could probably do it, sure, but Ladybug also had a magic yo-yo, and practice, and superpowers, and-

The spinning cord-lasso reached whistling pitch, and the Model Model paused in confusion, just long enough for Marinette to toss her lasso and tighten it snugly around the Model Model's middle, typing the akuma's arms to her side. Before the akuma could react, Marinette dashed around her several times, wrapping the cord around as she did, then tying a fast knot- her hands practically blurred- and grabbing a chair-

Wait. Wait wait wait. A chair?

Adrien only had half a second to wonder at what Marinette was planning now when she flipped the chair, taking hold of the chair's legs, and slammed it at full strength into the wavering Model Model's back, sending the akuma crashing face-first into the floor. Marinette didn't even wait for the (metaphorical) dust to settle before she was dashing up the akuma, ducking down to grab the purse and ripping it away from the Model Model. Adrien's breath caught in his throat as he stared, disbelieving.

Had- had Marinette seriously just defeated an akuma all on her own, without any superpowers? And gotten away with it unscathed?

Before Marinette could jump off of the Model Model and make her escape with the possessed purse, the Model Model thrashed, sending Marinette tumbling off of the akumas back before she meant to. As she landed on the floor, Adrien spotted her stumble and let out a sharp gasp, clearly landing on her foot wrong. Marinette winced, but amazingly enough, she didn't stop. Instead, she kept moving, pulling herself over the upended table and out the door.

He definitely hadn't imagined the misstep. Marinette's teeth had been gritted and while she hadn't let it slow her down much, she was definitely favoring one foot.

Adrien spared a glance to the shouting, thrashing akuma on the floor, then dashed after Marinette. If the Model Model got loose from the cord, she would go after Marinette right away. Combine a towering, long-limbed akuma and the much shorter, injured Marinette and, well, Adrien could guess how that would end.

Besides, he didn't know what Marinette's plan was. She had a possessed item, and if he and Ladybug couldn't find her, that could become an issue.

Over the table, then down the hall. Around a corner, and then Adrien practically tripped over Marinette, who had fallen on the floor. She was struggling to her feet, using the wall for support, and Adrien winced. Her injury had to be pretty serious if it had made her fall, and that she was still struggling on at all was impressive.

Impressive, but Adrien could help. With only a half-formed plan in mind, he dashed forward and scooped Marinette up like he might as Chat Noir, one arm around her back and the other under her thighs, and almost automatically, her legs wrapped around his waist so that some of her weight was supported on his hips instead of fully in his arms. Adrien gave her one quick adjustment so that they were more comfortable, then took off down the hallway, trying to think of a plan.

If they went for a back staircase, then that might be a good hiding spot. Adrien could claim that he was going up to the rooftops to see if he could find the superheroes, then leave Marinette in a hidden corner and come back as Chat Noir. He would be able to reach Ladybug more easily that way- if she was transformed, at least, he had to hope that she was- and then they could take care of the akuma before it pulled itself out of the purse and infected someone else.

Veering to the side, Adrien ducked into one of the lesser-used staircases in the school, adjusting Marinette again so she was a little higher. They should probably head up to at least the next landing, in case the Model Model got free and glanced in the staircase, but even though Marinette was small and light, it probably wouldn't be particularly easy to carry her up the stairs, at least not in his civilian form.

He could do it, though. Marinette had been so brave and done all the hard work of defeating an akuma, so he could get her up some stairs and to safety.

Adrien's breath came in heavy pants as he dashed up the first section of stairs, doing his best to avoid overbalancing in either direction. He didn't hear any banging or shouts, so presumably the Model Model was still trussed up in Marinette's fabulous handiwork.

Adrien reached the landing, and paused to catch his breath. Before he could start up again, though, a blur of red coming towards them caught his attention, and he stumbled to an abrupt halt, eyes wide.

That was Ladybug's kwami. What was Ladybug's kwami doing here?

"Hello!" Tikki chirped, flying to a stop in front of them. In his arms, Marinette tensed up before twisting to try to see where the voice was coming from. "I'm Ladybug's kwami. She can't get away to transform at the moment, so I'll be taking care of purifying the akuma! All you need to do is tear the purse!"

"Oh, thank goodness," Adrien breathed, turning so that Marinette could see Tikki without craning her neck quite so much and adjusting his grip to compensate for her letting go of his shoulders to rip the possessed purse in two. There was a jerk as Marinette tore the fabric, and then Tikki swooped in to grab the akuma and shove it in her mouth, bright light shining out from between her lips.

...okay, that was a bit weird. But seconds later, the purified butterfly fluttered free, and Tikki beamed as she tossed her paws up in the air and let loose a cloud of sparkles, her Cure rushing around the school. Adrien let out a sigh of relief- and almost immediately, it turned into a gasp of surprise and worry.

Marinette had slumped in his arms, suddenly seemingly drained of all energy. Adrien tightened his grip, frantically glancing between her and Tikki.

"What happened to her?"

Tikki had clapped her paws to her mouth in clear surprise. "Oh! Whoops!"

"Whoops?"

"It's been so long since I cast the Cure without a transformation that I forgot that it, well...it has some side effects," Tikki told him, clearly sheepish as she eyed the slumped Marinette. "It's not nearly as strong without being channeled, and, uh, it drains Ladybug of energy- I don't know why, really-"

"Wait, if it drains Ladybug of energy, why did it get Marinette, too?" Adrien asked, frowning. That didn't make sense. "I mean-"

"Oh!" Tikki exclaimed with a titter, eyes going even wider for a second before she rushed on. "Well, that- that's a combination of factors, really. I mean, if I'm remembering correctly. She was heavily involved in the fight, and the Cure had to do the most work on her, and, uh... and she was close by when I cast the Cure, and I hadn't had enough cookies this morning so I had to borrow more energy than I might otherwise-"

Adrien blinked. "O...kay?"

"So that's why it took her energy, too!" Tikki finished with a chirp. "There might be some lingering effects like some soreness in her ankle, but it'll be all healed and right as rain by tomorrow morning! And I should get back to Ladybug now before she wonders where I went, so good-bye!"

"Bye," Adrien managed before Tikki zipped off. He frowned after her for a moment, still worried. He- he had more questions, really, but he couldn't ask all of them with Marinette still in earshot. He was worried about Ladybug- was she still with friends who could catch her before she collapsed to the floor? What would they think? Should he go and help somehow?- and about how quickly the two girls would recover. Marinette was still pretty limp but stirring enough that he knew that she hadn't been completely knocked out. Hopefully a nap would get her her energy back, but what if Ladybug had been hit just as hard and there was another akuma attack this afternoon?

Hopefully that wouldn't happen. Still, her friends had to be super confused right now, and if Ladybug had collapsed to the same extent that Marinette had, she wouldn't be in any condition to come up with a believable excuse for her sudden weakness.

Maybe her friends would just think that she was sick or something.

After another couple seconds had passed, Adrien gave himself a shake and turned, heading back down the stairs. Tikki had gone up, which suggested that Ladybug and her friends had retreated to the roof. If that was true, they would be coming back down soon, and it wouldn't do for him to still be hanging around.

Besides, with the akuma gone, he had to get back to class. Madam Mendeleev had a track record of not being very lenient with people who stayed missing longer than the rest of the class after an akuma attack had ended, and while he would probably get a pass because he would be returning with an unconscious classmate, it was better not to tempt fate too much.

As it turned out, he hadn't needed to worry. When Adrien returned to the classroom, Marinette clinging to him like a sleepy sloth, his classmates and teacher were all gathered around the deakumatized model on the floor. Rose was working at the knots in the computer cords, doing her best to loosen them and free the model.

Another thing that hadn't gone quite right with the Cure. Normally, the cords would have all been returned to their original spot. Maybe it was because Marinette had been the one to use them instead of the superheroes or the akuma, because the formerly-broken window had been put right.

"Adrien! You got away- bro, what happened to Marinette? Did the akuma hurt her or something?"

Chloe sniffed from here spot on top of her desk, where she had been surveying her nails and the trussed model on the floor. "She's just faking it for attention, Adrikins, just drop her on the floor or something."

Adrien frowned at her, hugging Marinette closer. "She's not, and I'm not going to do that, Chloe."

"Something happened, though, didn't it?" Alya had abandoned Rose's side in favor of hurrying over to Adrien, either for a scoop or to collect her best friend, Adrien couldn't tell. He wasn't going to give her much of either. "Ladybug's Cure was weird, and I didn't see her or Chat Noir arrive like usual, and now Marinette's practically asleep and the akuma victim is still tied up and the superheroes weren't here when she came to and-"

"Alya, slow down," Nino said with a laugh, cutting his girlfriend off. "Let him talk. Adrien was in the room a lot longer than we were, maybe he saw something."

Adrien nodded, his mind racing to come up with a cover story. There were some things that he didn't want to mention with either Alya or Lila in earshot, and the fact that Ladybug had apparently been caught unable to transform on the school property, close enough for her kwami to come looking for them, was definitely one of those things. Ladybug had managed to throw Alya off when she claimed to be 5000, so the last thing they wanted was for Alya to get back on her trail. Still, the best bet was to get as close to the truth as he could.

"Marinette defeated the akuma even before Ladybug could get here," Adrien told his classmates, and all eyes turned to him. On the floor, the model gave him a disgruntled glare as Rose finally freed her from the tangled lasso wire, but he ignored her. He could deal with that later. "She made a tripwire, then made another cord into a lasso to trap the akuma so that we could take the possessed purse and escape. She landed funny, though, so her ankle got injured, and then we ran into Ladybug up on the roof." It wasn't a common place for people to go, usually, so hopefully no one would be able to dispute his story. "The Cure went a little funny because there was no Lucky Charm, though. I, uh, don't think that Ladybug expected that, or she probably would have called for one anyway."

There was an impressed murmur at that, (almost) all of their classmates regarding Marinette with a bit of awe. While it was hardly the first time that a member of their class had fought back against an akumatized villain, no one had ever defeated one before. Most of the time, all their fighting accomplished was buying Ladybug and Chat Noir or escaping classmates a bit of time.

Unsurprisingly, a sour look flashed across Lila's face at the attention that Marinette was getting.

"Oh, that makes sense!" Max exclaimed, and everyone turned to look at him. He looked a little flustered by the attention, but adjusted his glasses and continued on regardless. "Ladybug's Lucky Charm always helps Ladybug defeat the akuma, and it no doubt contains a lot of magical energy. This time, Marinette helped Ladybug by defeating the akuma, which would make her the replacement for the Lucky Charm. When Ladybug casts the Cure, it releases the energy stored in the Lucky Charm to fix the city. Likewise, the Cure took Marinette's energy."

His classmates lit up in understanding, nodding along.

"That makes so much sense!"

"I can't imagine defeating an akuma by myself- that must have been so scary!"

"I bet she outsmarted the akuma, Marinette is fantastic like that!"

Alya waved her phone, the most excited out of all of them. "I gotta get an interview for my blog! My bestie, taking on an akuma by herself, no superpowers needed!"

Adrien frowned at that. A civilian going after an akuma would no doubt become a target for Hawkmoth, either to try to attack as revenge or as a potential akuma victim, since she was crafty enough to defeat an akuma and might be able to defeat the superheroes. If Hawkmoth hadn't seen who Marinette was through his akuma, then they shouldn't just hand over the information. "Alya, I don't know if that's a good idea-"

"It's too bad you didn't get a video, Alya, I bet people would have loved that!"

Adrien tried not to sigh. He would try to get to Alya later, before she could try to harass Marinette into giving an interview.

Rose was clasping her hands together, forever eager. "Marinette is our Everyday Ladybug and a Lucky Charm! That's so amazing!"

Mylène nodded, sending an awed glance over at Marinette, who was doing her best to burrow into Adrien's shoulder. Clearly she was exhausted and just wanted a nap, but she couldn't do that with all of the noise. "It is! Marinette has to be the only person to ever be a Charm, I haven't ever heard of anyone else doing that!"

There were murmurs of agreement all around at that, people nodding in agreement.

And then Lila opened her mouth.

"Actually, it's been done before," Lila spoke up, just loud enough to be heard but not so loud that she would obviously look like she was trying to take attention away from Marinette. Still, she drew more than a few eyes as she laid a careful, modest hand on her chest. "I mean, I don't want to minimize what Marinette has done or anything, but..."

"Have you been a Lucky Charm before, Lila?" Rose asked eagerly, and Adrien's blood started heating up, headed for a slow boil. What Marinette had done was a first, and it had been super brave of her. She had earned the respect and praise that her classmates had been giving her.

Lila had not.

"Just the once," Lila told them, ducking her head as though embarrassed by the attention. "I happened to be in the area, and, well, I saw an opportunity and I took it. And I wanted to help Ladybug, of course, since we're besties. It was harder than I anticipated, but I didn't want to give up, even after I broke my arm."

There were murmurs at that, and the impressed looks were directed at Lila now, not Marinette. Adrien's blood boiled even more. Marinette had twisted her ankle- maybe even broken it, considering that she had collapsed after only getting a short distance away- and hadn't just sat down and given up on the spot, or thrown the akumatized item to Adrien and told him to run. Instead, she had been in the middle of pushing herself up to continue running, pushing on regardless of the injury.

"What akuma was it?" Sabrina asked eagerly, leaning forward. "I don't remember seeing anything on the news!"

"Yes, well, it was one of those akumas that vanished out of public view and was defeated out of sight. They're common enough, of course." Lila shrugged, the picture of modesty. "I don't know what he was upset about, of course, but he kept, uh, making cell phones explode like- like he had a grudge against them or something."

"Ooh, Cellphobia?" Alya exclaimed, already reaching for her phone. Adrien could see questions for another interview dancing above her head, even though there clearly wouldn't be time- after all, Madam Mendeleev had just entered the classroom, and looked none too thrilled about the scene greeting her. "That one was so dangerous, and there was so much damage! And you were the Lucky Charm for that fight?"

Lila nodded, a small smile dancing across her lips. "Yes, Cellphobia was the one! It was so scary, of course, but Ladybug was down and Chat Noir hadn't caught up yet, so of course I had to step in-"

"Cellphobia was a month and a half ago, when you said that you were traveling around Africa to deal with an emergency at your charity there," Adrien interrupted, anger making his words tumble out before he could rethink them. "So you couldn't have possibly-"

Lila sniffled at once, loudly enough to make everyone's attention snap back to her before they could really think about what Adrien had said. "Are you calling me a liar? That's so mean! Cellphobia happened right before I left!"

There were more murmurs at that, and the entire class's eyes swung back to Adrien. He froze for a second, not at all comfortable with the attention. Was now really the best time to get into this argument? Marinette clearly needed sleep to recover, and if Ladybug was in a similar condition, now was not the time to get Lila upset and in an akumatizeable mood. On top of that, Adrien wouldn't be able to get away very fast, because he was carrying Marinette and she would no doubt be a target for Lila.

As much as it pained Adrien- because right now, Lila was trying to steal an amazing accomplishment from his friend and that on top of everything else she had done had pretty much used up all of his patience and then some- he didn't want to get into any sort of showdown right now. Before he could try to diffuse the situation, though, Alya spoke up.

"Maybe you're misremembering when Cellphobia was," Alya suggested from where she had edged closer to Lila, one hand on the other girl's shoulder. "Because Lila wouldn't lie about that!"

There was a snort at that from Adrien's shoulder, and then Marinette lifted her head up slightly, just enough so that she could speak, though her words were still a bit sleep-slurred, as though she weren't completely awake. "Yeah, right. Google is free, Alya. Feel free to use it for once."

There was a shocked silence at that, everyone staring at Marinette. For her part, Marinette had gone back to curling into Adrien's shoulder, clearly done with the conversation. Lila's mouth was open as though to protest, but she clearly couldn't think of anything to say.

At the back of the group, Max looked up from his tablet. "Adrien is correct. Cellphobia's appearance was on the tenth of last month. I sent my notes from class to Lila due to her travels from the fourth to the twelfth, and she told me that she would return to Paris late on the day on the fourteenth, then return to school that Monday. That means that she either lied about being a Lucky Charm during the Cellphobia attack, or she lied about being out of the country for that period of time."

Out of the corner of his eye, Adrien saw Madam Mendeleev perk up at that comment, eyes narrowing in focus. Lila followed his gaze, the barest hint of panic entering her expression.

Well, it was out of Adrien's hands now. Also, Marinette's lack of filter when tired was pretty funny.

"That- that wasn't Cellphobia's first appearance," Lila insisted, her eyes darting around the group. "I wasn't aware that he had been akumatized again when I was away, and the first occurrence was very contained-"

Even Alya was looking doubtful now as she backed away from Lila, letting the hand that had formerly rested on Lila's shoulder fall back to her side, her fingers flexing. "Why would the battle have been bigger the second time around?

"All right, class, stop dithering around and find your seats!" Madam Mendeleev called, cutting off whatever Lila was going to say next. "Adrien, does Marinette need to go to the nurse?"

"I think she just needs sleep," Adrien told her, maneuvering himself into his seat while jostling Marinette as little as possible. He kept one arm around her, just in case she started tipping off balance.

"She can sleep back here next to me, Adrien," Alya said eagerly, leaning forward to catch his attention. "She's fallen asleep at her desk before, it'll be fine."

Adrien could see through that in a second. As much as it pained him to admit it- after all, Alya was his friend and he wanted to think the best of his friends- he could tell that Alya wanted Marinette near her so that she could get the scoop about the akuma fight as soon as possible, either by pestering Marinette during class or pouncing on her straight afterwards, even if Marinette needed more sleep. Still, he wasn't going to call Alya out on that right now. "I'm good, Alya. Marinette can use me as a pillow, I don't mind."

Alya opened her mouth, then hesitated, clearly torn. Adrien didn't give her another chance to argue, though, turning back to the front in time to see Madam Mendeleev escorting the former Model Model out. It was someone who Adrien vaguely recognized- they had maybe had a couple scattered shared photoshoots- and they shot him a dark look as they headed out, clearly not having forgiven him for- well, for not getting fired from the family business, apparently.

Ah, well. Maybe Adrien could have a word with the photography people later and try to make sure that they were being fair with dealing with lateness.

Turning his attention to the front and making sure that he didn't disturb Marinette- who, from the sounds of her quiet, even breathing in his ear, had fallen asleep- Adrien resolved to stay focused throughout class, even with all of the other things there were to consider.

Lila's clearly impending downfall and the fallout from that. Trying to keep Alya from posting anything about Marinette's involvement in defeating an akuma, and from accidentally harassing her friend in her eagerness to get an interview. In general trying to convince his classmates to keep Marinette's amazing work on the down-low for her safety- perhaps he would pay the class a visit as Chat Noir or something so that people would actually listen. But then there was the entire issue of Lila and the fact that- well, Lila was totally the type to use information like that as a weapon. If it occurred to her that she might be able to get Hawkmoth to target Marinette's family, she would make sure to get the information out.

That could be an issue. Maybe Chat Noir should just go to Alya after school and maybe a couple other classmates, ones who might be likely to spread the news. That way, he wouldn't be giving Lila any ideas.

Two classes back-to-back in Madam Mendeleev's room, and then they moved back to Ms. Bustier's classroom to finish the school day. Adrien got dismissed early so that he could carry Marinette to the next classroom without getting jostled around too much by other students, and he caught Alya snapping pictures of the two of them on the way out of the classroom.

Hopefully after school would be early enough and she wasn't drafting a Ladyblog article in class right now. If she was...well, maybe Adrien would have to do some damage control before their next class.

Marinette stirred in his arms as Adrien headed down the hall, doing his best smooth model walk to keep from jostling her. "Wha...?"

"We're just heading to the final class of the day," Adrien explained, keeping his voice low. He didn't know how awake Marinette was, and he didn't want to startle her. "The teachers know that your energy got sapped after the akuma battle, and so they're fine with you sleeping. I can bring you home after school. Just keep napping."

Regardless, Marinette jolted and lifted her head, clearly more awake. "They...know?"

"They know that you took down the akuma," Adrien specified, wondering if maybe Marinette's short-term memory was perhaps a little fuzzy at the moment. "And that you took her akumatized item to Ladybug to purify. Max theorized that you were Ladybug's Lucky Charm for this fight and- well, he said something about transfer of energy and it was a little hard to follow, but that's what everybody thinks now."

Marinette sounded puzzled. "But- we didn't see Ladybug?"

"I know, but the fact that her kwami was here suggests that she was in the school while detransformed and I didn't want Alya to know that." Marinette would understand why, he was sure. Adrien had overheard her arguing with Alya before about the Ladyblog's goal to find out who the superheroes were behind the mask. "And, uh, I don't know how much of it you were really fully awake for, but Madam Mendeleev is on Lila's trail now, I think."

He could feel Marinette's smile against his shoulder as she settled back down. "That's good."

"Mm. It'll be nice to not have to hear her lies all the time, I'll admit." Adrien adjusted his grip on Marinette, letting his cheek rest against Marinette's head as he waited outside of Ms. Bustier's door. He hadn't expected it, but it was such a relief to know that he wouldn't have to listen to Lila reaping the rewards for things that she hadn't done. "I can't believe she tried to claim that she had done the same thing that you did, defeating an akuma on your own."

Marinette didn't respond. It sounded like she had fallen asleep again. Adrien smiled, making sure his grip on her was secure before letting his attention wander, eyes automatically scanning over the school for any signs of trouble. Everything seemed calm for now, though, and hopefully it would stay that way.

If something did happen- if Lila got angry enough about the class discovering her lies and got akumatized- then, well, Adrien would do his very best to protect Marinette and keep her out of harm's way, even if that meant going toe-to-toe with an akuma before he could get away and transform.

After all, she had done so much for him and the rest of the class. Now, it was his turn to help her.

#Miraculous Ladybug #My writing #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #Everyday Ladybug

[rebelcourtesan]

My D&D 5e Build for Hordak

@firapolemos05​  requested Hordak, I did some digging and thinking and came up with a build for this character.  My judgement is based on what we’ve seen in the show and what I think suits his character best.  Feel free to agree or disagree with this build or come up with one of your own.  

Hordak, a member of a clone army that was rejected by his creator for having a defect in his cloning.  He was sent on a suicide mission only to find himself taken through a portal and crash landing on Etheria.  With the remains of a broken ship, he launched an Empire, taking over lands and territory and building his own army in the hopes of proving himself to Horde Prime.  He serves as the main antagonist for most of the series before Horde Prime takes his place.  

Long Post Below

***Stats***

Intelligence:  Top stat.  Hordak has a technological mind.  He’s built machines, weapons, and portals and is one of the most intelligence characters in the series.

Strength:  Second Highest.  Reason being that we’ve seen him life heavy machinery in building the portal and throwing a slab of metal across the room.  And he managed to push a huge beam off himself when it fell on him.  

Constitution: Third Highest. I had thought of putting this lower on the list due to his chronic illness, but he did survive was having a crane fall on him and is managing to fight despite the illness.  

Dexterity: Fourth Highest. Hordak can be quick when the needs aride.

Wisdom:   Fifth Place.  Hordak needed Double Trouble’s help to see through Catra’s lies about what happened to Entrapta.  

Charisma: Dump state.  Get. out!  Hordak isn’t the most charming character in the series.      

***Race***

I considered going with Variant Human again, but I just discovered the Gith- Githyanki race which I believe would suit Hordak better.  

He automatically gets +1 to Intelligence and +2 to Strength.    

Choose Arcana to be Proficiency skill.  Hey, he must have taken time to study Etheria’s magic at one point and he has Entrapta helping him out.

Also, Hordak starts off knowing the Mage Hand cantrip.   

Choose the Soldier background:  This nets Hordak a Proficiency in Athletics and Intimidation.  

Okay, after some thought and consideration, I’ve decided to start Hordak off as a Barbarian.

The reason for this when Hordak get’s angry, he can become quite dangerous and resilient to damage.

***Barbarian Level 1***

Hordak gets the Rage ability: 

- advantage on Strength checks and Strength saving throws. - A melee weapon attack using Strength, gains a bonus to the damage roll  - resistance to bludgeoning, piercing, and slashing damage.

Unarmored Defense -  armor class equals 10 + Dexterity + Constitution.  His suit is more of an exo-skeleton for his health condition.  And his dress is a bit revealing.

 For Skills choose Perception and Survival.  The first few years after crashing on Etheria must have been rough at the start.

***Barbarian Level 2***

Hordak receives Danger Sense : Has advantage on Dex saves against effects he can see such as traps and spells.  He’s been fighting magical princesses for years, however he can’t use this ability if he is blinded, incapacitated, or deafened.

Reckless Attack: For the first attack on his turn, he can choose to attack with advantage with melee weapons using Strength, but attack rolls against him will be at an advantage until his next turn.

***Barbarian Level 3***

Barbarians can choose a Primal Path.  For Hordak, reveres Horde Prime and conquers Etheria in his name, the Primal Path for him would be Path of the Zealot.  

Divine Fury: when Raging the first creature Hordak hits on each of his turns with a weapon takes extra damage equal to 1d6 + half Barbarian level.  Choose Necrotic damage he is fighting in the name of an evil cult leader.    

Warrior of the Gods: Hordak is easier to raise from the dead.  If any spell cast to restore life to Hordak doesn’t need any components.  That’s the advantage of a having a devoted hi-tech wife.

***Barbarian Level 4*** 

Ability Score Improvement: Put the points into Intelligence to max it out.  I know Strength is important for a Barbarian class, but there is a method to my madness. 

***Barbarian Level 5***

Extra Attack: Hordak can make two attacks when he takes the attack action.

Fast Movement:  His speed increases by +10 feet when he isn’t wearing heavy armor.

***Barbarian Level 6***

Path of the Zealots gives Hordak Fanatical Focus which allows to reroll a failed saving throw while Raging, but must take the new roll.  Ability can only be used once per Rage.

Now you’ll see the method in my madness with a high intelligence score.

We’re going into Artificier, a class the melds magic and technology, which he learned from Entrapta and from studying Etherian magic and First Ones Tech.

***Artificer Level 1***

Talk to your DM about the Optional Firearm Proficiency.  If they agree, then Hordak has a proficiency in firearms, such as laser cannons! 

Being an Artificer gives Hordak Magical Tinkering: Hordak’s Tinker Tools come into play which allows him to create a spark of magic in a Tiny nonmagical object with a magic effect such as giving off light, playing a recorded message (Like the Imp), etc.

Hordak is able to use his Intelligence to create magical effects in objects through spellcasting, but use his tools to do so.  So choose plenty of offensive spells for Hordak to use against Princesses.  I would recommend for cantrips:

Acid Splash:  You hurl a bubble of acid. Choose one creature within range, or choose two creatures within range that are within 5 feet of each other. A target must succeed on a Dexterity saving throw or take 1d6 acid damage.  

Fire Bolt:  You hurl a mote of fire at a creature or object within range. Make a ranged spell attack against the target. On a hit, the target takes 1d10 fire damage. A flammable object hit by this spell ignites if it isn’t being worn or carried.  

For 1st level spells:

Absorb Elements: The spell captures some of the incoming energy, lessening its effect on you and storing it for your next melee attack. You have resistance to the triggering damage type until the start of your next turn. Also, the first time you hit with a melee attack on your next turn, the target takes an extra 1d6 damage of the triggering type, and the spell ends. (Good for when he goes into melee against elemental Princesses).

***Artificer Level 2***

Infuse Item:  Hordak can Imbue mundane items with magical infusions.  At this level you can choose up to 4 infusions to know, but can replace one of them at each level. 

Choose:  

Enhanced Defense: Needs a suiit of armor or shield to grant  a +1 bonus to Armor Class while wearing (armor) or wielding (shield) the infused item. 

Enhanced Weapon: Needs a simple or martial weapon to grant  +1 bonus to attack and damage rolls made with it. 

Enhanced Arcane Focus: Needs rod, wand, or staff (requires attuning)  a creature gains +1 bonus to spell attack rolls. 

Replicate Magic Item :  Any item of your choice to replicate.

***Artificer Level 3***    

The Right Tool for the Job :  with tinker's tools in hand, Hordak can magically create one set of artisan's tools when needed.

Now Hordak can receive an Artificer Specialist.  Take Artillerist.

Tool Proficiency: Gain proficiency with Wood Carver tools, but to better fit Hordak’s character, I would go with Smith’s Tools if the DM allows it.

Hordak gains 2 additional spells.

Shield:  An invisible barrier of magical force appears and protects you. Until the start of your next turn, you have a +5 bonus to AC    

Thunderwave:  A wave of thunderous force sweeps out from you. Each creature in a 15-foot cube originating from you must make a Constitution saving throw. On a failed save, a creature takes 2d8 thunder damage and is pushed 10 feet away from you. On a successful save, the creature takes half as much damage and isn’t pushed.

The golden part of this level is Eldritch Cannon.  Hordak can create small or tiny canons.  Think Horde Robots.  They can have one of three effects: Flame Thrower, Force Ballista, and Protector.  

***Artificer Level 4***

Ability Score Improvement: Max out Intelligence to attain more spells and make them more powerful.  If Intelligence is already maxed out, you can put them into Strength so Hordak can hit harder when in melee or you can round out the other ability scores. 

***Artificer Level 5***

Arcane Firearm:  Hordak can turn a rod, wand, or staff into an Arcane Firearm (such as an Arm Cannon) to case offensive spells.  Doing so gives a 1d8 bonus damage to spells.  If the spell hits multiple targets, choose one to take the bonus damage.  

Hordak can now use 2nd level Artificer spells.  I recommend:

Heat Metal :  Hordak can cause a metal object (armor for example) to glow red-hot. Any creature in physical contact with the object takes 2d8 fire damage when you cast the spell. Until the spell ends, you can use a bonus action on each of your subsequent turns to cause this damage again.

Also Artillerist gains two additional spells.

Scorching Ray:  You create three rays of fire and hurl them at targets within range. You can hurl them at one target or several. Make a ranged spell attack for each ray. On a hit, the target takes 2d6 fire damage. 

Shatter :  A sudden loud ringing noise, painfully intense, erupts from a point of your choice within range. Each creature in a 10-foot-radius sphere centered on that point must make a Constitution saving throw. A creature takes 3d8 thunder damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one. A creature made of inorganic material such as stone, crystal, or metal has disadvantage on this saving throw.   

***Artificer Level 6***

Tool Expertise: proficiency bonus is doubled for any ability check you make that uses your proficiency with a tool. 

Also, Hordak gains two additional Infusions.  

Pick Homunculus Servant so Hordak can create his own Imp, a tiny construct that obeys commands.        Repulsion Shield : grants a +1 bonus to AC when using this shield.  Also has 5 charges to push an attacker back 15 feet as a reaction to being hit by melee weapon.    

***Artificer Level 7***

Flash of Genius: As a reaction, Hordak can add his intelligence modifier to an ability check or saving throw of a ceature within 30 feet of him.  

***Artificer Level 8***

Ability Score Improvement: By now Intelligence should be maxed.  Put points into Strength if you are having Hordak wade into melee battle.  And/Or, you could get the War Caster feat which will make it easier for Hordak to cast and maintain spells in battle. 

***Artificer Level 9***

Explosive Cannon: Eldritch Cannons now cause more damage with additional 1d8 damage and Hordak can have them self-detonate for 3d8 force damage on a failed Dex save.  

Hordak can now use 3rd level spells. 

Dispel Magic:  Choose any creature, object, or magical effect within range. Any spell of 3rd level or lower on the target ends. For each spell of 4th level or higher on the target, make an ability check using your spellcasting ability. The DC equals 10 + the spell’s level. On a successful check, the spell ends. (Hordak must have been studying a means to remove magical effects, plus this spell is super useful).

Plus being an Artillerist grants two additional spells.

Fireball:  A bright streak flashes from your pointing finger to a point you choose within range then blossoms with a low roar into an explosion of flame. Each creature in a 20-foot radius must make a Dexterity saving throw. A target takes 8d6 fire damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one. The fire spreads around corners. It ignites flammable objects in the area that aren’t being worn or carried.

Wind Wall:  A wall of strong wind rises from the ground at a point you choose within range.  When the wall appears, each creature within its area must make a Strength saving throw. A creature takes 3d8 bludgeoning damage on a failed save, or half as much damage on a successful one.   

***Artificer Level 10***  

With Entrapta’s help, Hordak can become a Magic Item Adept: he can attune up to four items at once instead of just two.  And it takes a quarter of the time to craft a common or uncommon magical item and doing so costs half the gold.   

And Hordak can learn two more Infusions.

Spell-Refueling Ring (Unearthed Arcana) - A ring that can recover expended spell slots. (Hordak can keep throwing spells back at Princesses)

Mind Sharpener (Unearthed Arcana) - Robes (or armor) that can allow the wearer to maintain a spell as a reaction if they failed a constitution check.      

***Artificer Level 11***  

Spell-Storing Item: Hordak can store a 1st or 2nd level spell inside an item for a creature to use

***Artificer Level 12*** Ability Score Improvement: Intelligence should be maxed.  Strength should be maxed.  Also round out any Ability Scores.  Or you can get the War Caster feat.

***Artificer Level 13***   4th level spells are now available.  I recommend:

Arcane Eye:  You create an invisible, magical eye within range that hovers in the air for the duration. You mentally receive visual information from the eye, which has normal vision and darkvision out to 30 feet. The eye can look in every direction. 

***Artificer Level 14***   With the help of his beloved Entratpa, Hordak becomes a Magic Item Savant.  He can attune up to five items with magic and he can ignore all class, race, spell and level requirements to use any magical items.         

And there you have it.  My version of Hordak in D&D 5e.  With the Barbarian levels he can deal decent melee damage and withstand receiving damage and gaining extra strength while Raging.  

As part of his background and his close relationship to Entrapta, he can infused magic into items and use offensive spells against the Princesses in his conquest of Etheria.   

#Hordak #dnd character build #d&d 5e #d&d character

[splendidlyimperfect]

written for @fuckyeahft-poly-ships​ fairy tail poly ship week 2020; promt: falling

Natsu is frustrated by his injuries from the accident, but his boyfriends are there to make him take care of himself. 

version française ici

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Fairy Tail Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Rogue Cheney/Natsu Dragneel/Sting Eucliffe/Gray Fullbuster Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Polyamory, Established Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, Aphasia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Natsu's a stubborn shit, but his boyfriends take care of him Series: Part 16 of i'm with them

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“Happy, get off the table!”

Sting grabbed the water bottle from the counter and moved to the kitchen table, spraying Happy in the face as he tried to drink the leftover milk from Natsu’s cereal bowl. Happy meowled indignantly, jumping down to the floor and shaking out his fur.

“Aww,” Natsu said from the kitchen, looking down at Happy and giving him a sympathetic look. “That’s mean.”

“I’m not mean, he’s being a shit.”

Continue reading on AO3

Happy sauntered into the kitchen and rubbed himself against Natsu’s legs.

“Poor…” Natsu hesitated, looking down at Happy and then back at Sting.

“Asshole?” Sting suggested. Natsu rolled his eyes. “Cat,” Sting said eventually, filling in the blank for Natsu.

Natsu nodded. “Poor cat. He’s just… wants to drink.”

“Well he’s not supposed to be eating human food,” Sting said. He was about to set the bottle back on the counter when he frowned at Natsu. “Where are your crutches?”

Natsu sighed, gesturing to the living room. “I forgot them—” He was interrupted by a spray of water in his face and he sputtered, rubbing his eyes. “What the hell?”

“Natsu Dragneel,” Sting said firmly, holding the bottle with his finger over the trigger and waving it at Natsu. “Use your goddamn crutches. Next time I find you without them I’m gonna spray you again.”

“You can’t do that,” Natsu muttered, shaking out his wet hair.

“What’re you gonna do about it?” Sting asked, raising his eyebrow and taking a step back. “Stop me?”

“You—”

“If you can walk over here right now without the crutches and take this away from me, I won’t spray you in the face again.”

Natsu glared at him, shuffling on his good foot and leaning against the counter.

“That’s what I thought,” Sting said.

“You’re mean.”

“No, I’m taking care of you.”

Natsu bit the inside of his lip, staring down at the counter where he’d been cutting tomatoes. The dull ache in his hip was starting to spread down his leg and it pushed him from mild irritation to frustration.

“Come sit down,” Sting said gently, setting the bottle on the table and moving over to help him. “Either let me help or use the crutches.”

“I’m fine,” Natsu insisted, cheeks burning with embarrassment.

“No, you aren’t,” Sting argued. “You’ve only been home for a week, and the doctor said—”

“I know!” Natsu’s voice broke and he rubbed his face, swearing when he stumbled forward and into Sting’s arms. Sting held him close, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. “I know,” Natsu said again. “I don’t—it’s just… the… I feel…”

“I’m not trying to be an ass,” Sting said gently. “But I know how stubborn you are.  Let me help you.”

Natsu nodded reluctantly, holding onto Sting’s arm as they walked the short distance to the couch. Each step was staggered and uneven, and Natsu made a pained sound of frustration when he finally settled down against the armrest.

“Hate this,” he mumbled, holding the pillow against his chest while Sting grabbed the blanket from the other end of the couch. “It’s…” He trailed off, feeling the irritation grow as the word he was looking for slid just out of his reach.

“I know you’re tired of hearing this,” Sting said gently, crouching down next to the couch and taking Natsu’s hand, “but you need to take it easy, because I’m not going to watch while you hurt yourself again.”

Natsu ground his teeth in frustration, trying to pull meaning out what Sting was saying. He knew the words, but the way they flowed together made no sense.  “Slower,” he said quietly, cheeks burning.

“Sorry,” Sting said quickly. “I know you’re frustrated.” He paused and Natsu nodded. “I want you to be safe.”

Natsu looked down at their joined hands, wishing he could describe the angry, desperate sense of resentment that filled his mind. Everything was difficult. Sleeping was uncomfortable, showering took forever, and half the time he didn’t understand what everyone was saying, or he couldn’t tell them what he wanted because his words didn’t make sense.

“Sucks,” he mumbled eventually. “Want to do—I can do things.”

“I know you can,” Sting said. “You feel trapped.” Natsu nodded. “I know you want to be independent.” Natsu frowned and Sting added, “Do things yourself.”

Natsu sighed. “It’s… frustrating.” He felt a small sense of victory at being able to pull the word he wanted from the fragmented pieces of his mind. “I’m always asking. For help. Showering, um… lying? In the bed.”

“Sleeping.”

Natsu nodded. “And the words don’t make sense. Mine and yours.”

“I know.” Sting squeezed his hand. “You have an appointment on Friday.”

“Hate appointments,” Natsu said, groaning and rubbing his face. “Always—the car, driving, waiting. People and… and they want me to—to tell them. Their words, then mine. And I can’t.”

Sting looked like he was about to respond when the front door swung open, bringing a damp-looking Gray and Rogue along with it. Snow still clung to the sleeves of Gray’s jacket, and he shivered when he unwound his scarf and hung it on the hook. Natsu studied his face carefully – he looked exhausted.

“Hey,” Rogue said, setting down his bag and making his way over to the couch. “You okay?”

“’m fine,” Natsu muttered, bringing the pillow up and pressing his face into it. He knew he was sulking, but part of him didn’t care. Then Gray settled down at the other end of the couch and Natsu noticed him flexing his fingers uncomfortably.

“Your cast,” he said, sitting up and letting go of Sting’s hand to reach out and touch Gray’s arm. “Got it off?”

Gray nodded. “It feels weird,” he said.

“Hurts?”

“No, just weird.” He turned his hand and slid his fingers between Natsu’s. “You okay?” he asked, looking up at Natsu’s face.

Natsu sighed. “No.”

“Me either.” Gray tugged on Natsu’s hand and shifted carefully until Natsu could lay with his head in Gray’s lap. “Today sucks.”

“Mm.” Natsu sighed happily as Gray’s fingers ran through his hair. “That feels nice.”

He felt Sting stand from his spot next to the couch, and then a gentle kiss was pressed to his forehead.

“Do you want me to finish making those nachos for you?” Sting asked. “Or should we get takeout?”

Natsu looked up at Gray, who shrugged.

“Both?” Natsu suggested, giving Sting a small smile. Sting laughed and looked over at Rogue, who nodded in agreement.

“Both it is,” Sting said, pulling out his phone. “Chinese? Sushi?”

“Pizza,” Gray and Natsu said at the same time.

When Sting and Rogue headed into the kitchen to tidy up, Natsu turned onto his back and looked up at Gray.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Bad sleep?”

“Yeah.” Gray rubbed his eyes. “And I don’t like being at the hospital.”

“I know.”

They sat in silence for a while, Natsu with his eyes closed while Gray brushed out the tangles from his hair. Sting and Rogue talked quietly in the background, and after a while, the cats joined them on the couch. Frosche wriggled onto Gray’s lap next to Natsu’s head, while Lector and Happy made themselves comfortable lying across Natsu’s legs. The cozy familiarity of it all helped to calm Natsu’s frustrations and he felt the tense anxiety slowly bleeding out of his body.

“Pizza’s gonna be here soon.” Rogue appeared next to the couch and poked Natsu in the side. “You wanna sit here or at the table?”

Natsu cracked an eye open and peered up at Rogue. “Here,” he said. “Gray’s comfy.”

Gray, who had his eyes closed and his head tipped back against the couch, hummed in agreement.

“Fine, but when we get up to go to bed—” Sting started, but Natsu interrupted him.

“I’ll use the crutches,” he said. “Promise.”

“Good,” Sting said, waving the spray bottle at Natsu threateningly. “Because this is still half full, and I’m not afraid to use it.”

#fairy tail #gratsustingue #ot4 #imwiththem #ftpolyweek2020 #gray fullbuster #natsu dragneel #sting eucliffe #rogue cheney #fluff #hurt/comfort #it was supposed to be all fluff but feelings happened #french version available on ao3 #fanfic #my fic