#my desk is covered in thread and my floor is covered in books that i had to move from the desk

[danikamariewrites]

Taken (part 2)

Cassian x reader

A/n: thank you all for your support with part 1! Here’s part 2 and I hope you enjoy 😊

Warnings: some angst and canon typical violence

This was not the escape you were hoping for. It felt like you had been crawling for hours through the passageway. It didn’t help that it was dark and was full of dust from being untouched for centuries. If it was this dirty there was no way Beron knew about it. He’d have spies crawling from room to room at all times if he did.

Keeping your left hand on the wall as you pushed yourself through the tight passage helped you focus. You couldn’t think about the throbbing in your cheek from the bruise Beron gave you. And you couldn’t think about your family risking themselves for you.

After what felt like another eternity of crawling through the unending darkness, your pointed ears picked up on voices. Their yelling is muffled by the thick walls. As you get closer you hear Beron berating his guard. They must’ve seen your empty cell. Cauldron, how long has it been? You wonder how many other secret doors you’ve passed.

Coming up to the hidden door you press your ear against it. The voices still muffled but clearer, “I’m going to kill him! How unaware can he fucking be?” “My lord -“

“No! Search for her now!” Before the guard can respond someone bursts through the door. “My lord.” “WHAT!” “They’re here.”

Beron sighs and silence follows for a long moment. Glass crashes and more silence. You could feel the tension through the wall. Even you were holding your breath, your body was taut, afraid to move in case Beron reached through the wall to grab you.

“They’re early,” he sighs. “Bring them to me in the throne room. I want their wings pinned to my walls and those Valkyries dead. Nothing is getting in my way, understand!” A unanimous ‘yes high lord’ sounded throughout the room.

They move out, Beron exiting first. The door closes and you lean on the wall, exhaling in relief. After counting to a hundred you push and push on the door. Like the door in the cell this one takes a few tries.

The door opens and you tumble out onto a carpeted floor. Looking around the large dimly lit room you realize it’s Beron’s office. Kneeling the carpet your eyes roam over the dark red and yellow-gold threads, the Vanserra family crest lays at the center.

Picking your head up you take in the many bookcase stocked from floor to ceiling. There were odd trinkets he had collected over the centuries, books old and new, some in pristine condition, others looked so frail that if you disturbed them they would fall apart.

Standing, you look behind you to his ornate oak desk with gleaming gold hardware lining its frame. The surface is covered in papers and open books, inkwells and various writing utensils.

Stalking over to the desk the strange symbols on one of the open pages of the center book catches your eye. You had never seen a language like this before. It couldn’t be a dialect of the old language, so you wrack your brain for where in Prythian something like this could be found.

It has to be valuable if Beron is acting this erratic. You move his chair back and something falls with a thud. Laying on the floor, and clearly torn through, is your work bag. “Bastard.” You whisper to yourself.

Searching through your bag you see nothing was taken. But a lot of your books were stuffed in. The guards who took you must’ve had orders from Beron to bring anything you’d need.

Thinking through your current situation your hands start to shake. Placing your hands on the desk to ground you, you take a deep breath, closing your eyes. You think of Nesta, Feyre, Elain, Mor, and the Valkyries. Rhys and Azriel who are like brothers to you, all risking themselves for you.

You think of Cassian. Your mate. The love of your life. He needs you to stay strong so he can hold you in his arms again. You need him to keep a level head. So you can kiss him again.

Exhaling, your eyes flutter open. Scanning the desk you stare daggers at the mysterious book. You know what you have to do.

You snatch up the book, stuffing it into your bag. As soon as the book is secure you hear footsteps echo down the hallway. Pushing the chair back in, you dart into the secret passage and pull the door shut. You don’t wait for whoever it is to enter before continuing your exploration of the miserable passageway.

Now that you know where you are in the Forest House, navigating yourself out should be easier.

———

Eris leads Rhys, Feyre, and Mor toward his fathers office. Rhys was fuming at what Eris had told him about Beron’s new find. Feyre and Mor trailed behind the two males as they approached the door.

Eris flings the door open to an empty office. Mor and Rhys relax from their fighting stances as Feyre walks across the threshold. The group follows. “I don’t know if he’s keeping it hidden but her bag should be behind the desk.” Eris says over his shoulder as he tears through the far wall bookcase.

Feyre walks over to the desk, Rhys keeping close to his mate while Mor looks over the back wall. Feyre pulls back the chair, crouching to find your familiar worn blue work bag. “It’s not here.” She announces to the group.

“Beron was clearly studying the book himself. Notes are left out on the desk and it looks like the book was here.” Rhys emphasizes his find by giving the empty space a hard time with his index finger.

Eris and Mor’s attention snaps to the High Lord and Lady. “What.” Eris whispers and clears the room in a few strides. His wide eyes roaming over his fathers desk. “He said he left it to the researchers.” The lordling whispered. Feyre’s eyes widened, “That’s why he took y/n! He wants her to translate it.”

Rhys reaches out to Cassian and Az in his mind, “Her bag and the book are gone.” Azriel is the first to respond, “Beron’s in the throne room. He’s pissed. I’m trying to find out what’s going on.”

“We need to get out of here. Find a different room to hunker down in.” Mor says, glancing between the trio by the desk and the door. They move out to find a safer room.

———

Cassian and Azriel stay hidden in a dark alcove, covered by Az’s shadows for extra protection. When Azriel’s shadows return to him their whispers are rushed. He looks to Cassian who is trying to stay as calm as possible.

“Cass,” he says barely above a whisper, “I need you to stay calm.” Cassian gives his brother a tight nod. “Y/n isn’t in a cell. And Beron’s guard can’t find her.” Cassian lets out a shaky breath.

On one hand Beron wasn’t torturing you, but on the other no one knew where you were. A straggling shadow flies back to Azriel’s shoulder. He leans his head down, his face pulling into a frown as the shadow tells Az about the dungeon and the guard. “She escaped.” Cassian went still. Looking at the shadowsinger. The ghost of a grin playing on his lips. “That’s my girl. Did you tell Rhys?”

Azriel’s eyes get that distant look in them when Rhys speaks mind-to-mind with them. “Told him. We need to get upstairs. Now.” The pair rush through the halls still covered by the shadows until they’re with the rest of the rescue squad.

Eris was in the middle of hashing out a new plan. The old one changed thanks to your impromptu escape. As he thinks about it, Cassian’s heart skips a beat. They don’t know how you escaped but Cassian knows it was probably a brilliant accident that you pulled from the back of your brain. He couldn’t wait to hear all about it. He was starting to have hope again.

“I have someone on his personal guard that’s loyal to me. I had him tip off the others the book is missing. He’ll know soon, but he’s unpredictable right now.” Azriel closes the door silently as he stares through the gap.

Joining the group everyone turns to Cassian. He’s noticeably less tense, but Rhys can still see how stressed his brother is. “Any updates?” They all turn to Eris. “My father knows the book is missing. All we can do is wait.”

Cassian didn’t like that answer. His hands curl into fists at his sides as he takes a deep breath. “I can’t just stand here and wait.” “Where else can we go Cass?” Rhys asks. He folds his arm across his chest leaning against the long meeting table in the center of the room as he continues, “We have to keep in mind that Beron knows we’re here. We can hide all we want but we have limited time before we make our move.”

Moments pass and a knock sounds at the door. Eris strides over as Azriel shields the group with his shadows. Eris opens the door a crack, “What.” He says flatly. The guards whisper too low for anyone else to hear.

He closes the door and Azriel drops his shield of darkness as Eris turns, his face paler than usual and nervous. Looking at Rhys he says, “He wants to see us.” Rhys nods slowly, “Are you ready?” “Yes.”

Rhys looks to Feyre, “Is there any chance you’ll stay here?” She raises an eyebrow at him, “Nope. You need me.” Rhys sighs but gives his mate an encouraging smile. “Nesta, Emery, and Az I want you to stay behind. The rest of us will head to the throne room but I’ll stay in contact.”

The rest file out of the room. Cassian brings up the rear, his heart beating faster and faster with each step he takes. He’s ready to help Eris take down his father. No one takes his mate and lives. No one.

———

You crawled and crawled and crawled. At this point it felt like you’d be crawling for eternity. Your bag was getting heavier and you wished you could just stand and drag it along. But you didn’t want to risk getting thrown back in a cell again.

You felt disgusting. Dust and dirt covered your dress, hands and face. You were coughing and your throat was dry. You had to get out of here or you were going to suffocate. You stopped, running your hand across the right wall in hopes of coming across another door.

Feeling the grimy stone wall you let out a joyous cry. You felt the cracks of a door. Letting your bag slip off your shoulder you pushed with all the strength you had left. Giving one final push you fall flat on your stomach, gasping and coughing for fresh air.

You heard footsteps approaching quickly and freeze. You hear Emery gasp and Nesta chuckle, hiding it with a cough. Lifting your head you stare at your three friends and stand. Pulling your bag out of the passage you huff. Turning back to your friends to say, “So…how’s the rescue going?” Azriel’s eyes go wide and Nest doesn’t bother to hide her cackle this time.

Azriel holds your shoulders gently, scanning your dirty form for injuries. He wipes the dirt away from your cheek, revealing the bruise Beron gave you. “You're hurt.” You shake your head no. “Are you ok? I-I have no words.” You look around the room and ask, “Where’s Cassian?”

———

The throne room was in all out chaos. Cassian was flying, sending out power from his siphons at guards trying to shoot him down. Eris and Beron battled in the center of the room, surrounded by fire. Rhys was beating back guards that were trying to stop him from helping Eris.

Mor was guarding Feyre as she took down guards across the room with arrows. Cassian landed next to Rhys, causing the room to shake and guards to stumble backward. One that remained charged at Rhys. Cassian moved in front of the male, punching him right in the face, grabbing him by the throat and throwing him backward into a group that just broke through the door.

Cassian looked at Rhys screaming at him to help Eris. Rhys jumped through the flames and began slashing with his dark sword. Cassian just wanted this to end. For Beron to be gone and to reunite with you.

After what felt like hours, Eris had won. The fire died along with Beron and an intense power shook through the room. Guards dropped their weapons and kneeled before Eris. Rhys bowed and the rest of the Inner Circle followed.

When guards who are still loyal to Beron were locked away and the hysteria died down, Eris thanked them for their help and told them they could leave and search for you.

Heading back to their hidden room a wave of exhaustion washes over Cassian. He wants to hold you. He’s ready to scream at this point. He won’t rest, or let anyone else for that matter, until he finds you.

Emery speaks up first, “Is it done?” “Yes, Beron is gone.” Feyre answers. Cassian’s eyes roam to Nesta who’s smiling and hiding a laugh behind her hand. She’s looking behind Az’s back. Was this all a joke to her?

“Why are you laughing, Nesta?” His tone was sharp. Nesta sends him a glare that would make a lesser male drop dead.

You walk out from behind Azriel, giving Cassian a wide smile. Your eyes water, leaving tear tracks in the grime on your face. He runs to you and you fling your arms around his broad shoulders.

Cassian lets out a sob and drops to his knees. He pulls you from the hug to cradle you to his chest. He looks down at you with a loving smile. “Found you.” You joke, your voice making your stuffy nose evident. He lets out a broken laugh. “Yeah, you did baby.” Rhys grabs Cassian’s shoulder and winnows you home.

When you look up again Cassian is setting you on your shared bed. Rhys was already gone. Cassian sits next to you, running a finger gently down your bruised cheek. “Oh baby. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there. And I’m sorry I didn’t get you out sooner I-“ you cut him off by holding his face.

“Cass, I’m here. We’re together, it's ok.” He shakes his head. “You were taken from our home. I’m supposed to protect you.” Sadness took over his beautifully rugged face. “I know Cass. And I’m not going to lie to you, I was terrified the whole time. For you and me. I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

You let yourself feel all the pent up emotions that you’ve pushed down over the last 12 plus hours. You start shaking and crying hard. Cassian holds you close to him, kissing your head and whispering sweet nothings.

You pull back from him, wiping at your still dirt covered face. Cassian rubs your head. “We don’t have to talk about it tonight, but I’d love to hear about your great escape.” You chuckle. “I’d love to take a bath. That secret passage was gross.”

Cassian’s eyes look like they’re about to pop out of his head. “Secret passage?” You nod slowly. Standing up and stretching out your body. You hold your hand out for Cassian, turning shy for a moment. “Come with me?” He nods, walking with you toward a much needed hot bath.

tags: @nyotamalfoy @auggiesolovey @bubybubsters @baybay123455 @msiecrane @katrina0-0 @obixix @forsiriussake

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar reader imagine #acotar reader fic #acotar imagine #acosf #cassian acosf #cassian acotar #cassian imagine #cassian x reader #cassian acotar x reader #cassian x you #cassian fanfic

[happysadyoyo]

Oh! Oh! Can you do the human diguise? Just anything really.

But if you want ideas I'm thinking maybe...

Sun wants to read some books but he himself doesn't know where to even start because outside of a few picture books for abolute toddlers DCA never even held a one in their hands!

maybe about knitting? or general survival tricks? or maybe just some novels?

So Sun asks librarian for recomendations but in his excitment he goes thourght books far faster that should be humaly possible and then he catches himself and is seriously afraid but

the librarian just worry the books they recomend must be not what Sun needed because this guy CLEARLY doesn't read them at all.

Ahh you've unlocked a core memory of mine. I might've gone off the rails and put a little too much of me into y/n but here we are.

As always, Human Disguise AU belongs to @pillowspace. She just lets me play in her sandbox.

"You haven't even used your library card yet?" You're almost offended for the library honestly. A building full of worlds and your new friend hasn't even touched them.

"It's been a bit hard to find the time, buuut I want to!" Sun's quick to reassure you when you frown (pout really) at him. "I do, I promise. Maybe you can give me some recommendations on where to start?"

The magic words. Every job has that One Task that makes it worth it. When you had been a cashier it'd been your uncanny ability to pack bags perfectly. As a janitor, it was leaving a floor sparkling clean after a night pushing the waxer. And here?

Here it was finding the perfect book for someone to read.

"Okay let me think," you say, grabbing a cart of returns to push. "I don't know if you're more of a nonfiction or fiction reader. I need some clues."

Sun's chuckle is just a little on the shy side. Cute. "I'm not entirely sure I know either. Sorry." At your exaggerated sigh, you catch a glimpse of his gloved hands raising in mock surrender. "I really will enjoy whatever you decide!"

"Okay well, you've given me a challenge. Let's find a few things and see what you like the most." You shove the cart a little too hard around the corner, catching a misplaced stool. The cart jerks and Sun grabs it before you can tip it over and lose all your books. "Oh sorry! Are you okay?" This is what you get for being too excited.

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Are you?" Sun rests his hand on you for just a moment, jerking away just as if he's been burned. It hurts, just a little, but he just seems to be adverse to touch. So you bite your tongue and deal.

"I'm fine. You're my hero, saving the cart," you say, watching Sun's face. He turns away, and you can only guess he's being shy. "Anyway, I have an idea for your first book."

"Oh?" He trails after you as you abandon your cart, far too excited. You duck into the crafts section, finding the colorful spine of a well worn book. "Knitting?"

"You're always so bundled up. I think you'll enjoy making your own mittens and things. Oh and! Arthurian legends. That'll be a good litmus test for what sort of stories you like."

Sun takes the knitting book and follows you as you go from shelf to shelf, creating a precarious pile in his arms. Your cart has been lost to the stacks, and you find yourself babbling about the different people you've helped find books for over the years.

"You love books," Sun says as you make it back it back to the reference desk to check him out.

"I do," you agree, smiling to yourself. "I read a lot as a kid. It was like... I don't know. Having friends? It sounds silly, I know."

"I don't think so." Sun brushes against your hand again on a cover decorated with embossed ivy and a golden sword. You freeze, and his hand lingers, close enough you can feel the tickle of his glove's fuzzy thread. "I think it's wonderful you were able to find friends in these stories. I can't wait to meet them myself."

You sort of stumble through the rest of the conversation, face hot. Usually it's easy enough to laugh off your own excitement sharing books, but with Sun responding so earnestly...

It's nearly dark out when you finally get off, yawning and stretching. You had to relocate your cart and spent the rest of the day putting things away and trying not to seek out your friend as he read. You'd noticed the one book, the Arthurian one, already back in the return bin.

Sun is waiting for you at the door, as he has been doing the past week and change. "I take it King Arthur wasn't up to your taste?" You ask by way of greeting.

"What? Oh, no! I loved it. The knights are so gallant. But it's so melancholic as well, reading their adventures. I feel bad for Lady Morgan the most."

"You do?" Sun is a reassuring presence in the evening light. "But you've already returned it."

"Oh, um." There's a heavy pause. "I think I just got so invested in the story I forgot to put it down."

You knew fast readers, and that seemed nearly plausible. Nearly. You still give a doubtful squint at him. But maybe you're being too judgemental. "I'll see if I can't find any happier stories with Morgan in them. She used to be a healer, you know. In the early stories."

"Really? Tell me about them."

You're more than happy to, tracing the memories of the old stories in the air as you speak. You nearly miss your road, stumbling to a stop when you hit an unfamiliar crack in the sidewalk. And it's there you say goodnight, leaving Sun to go home himself with thoughts of gallant knights and magic swords to keep himself occupied until you saw him again.

#human disguise au #dca #fnaf daycare au #fnaf daycare attendant #eh this ksnt my best work

[coffeehighallthetime-blog]

I am kind, not Complacent chpt 1,{next}

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

Word count: 4.9 k

Multi chapter

Heimdall gow x fém! Reader

hi all, this is a Heimdall x reader fic that I was inspired to write thanks to the very kind and talented @engardeitsme I want to thank you for reading my draft and encouraging me to share this with people.

synopsis: You are a little goddess of peace, alone for so long, fearing interacting with the outside world may just make things worse. odin hears of your existence and finds that you may be of use to him, but what will happen when he finds out that peace to you means freedom and fighting for what's right? what will he do as you, just a child, turn his allies against him? turn his son against him?

the reader will be a child for a few chapters, mute at times (spoilers) and the first few chapters will also be a back story before the events of Ragnorok, but we will get there as it is based on the game's plot! aka: Don't worry, there will be some adult pining as well, maybe smut??( idk what I'm doing) and you will see Atreus and Mimir, and Kratos and the rest of our found family.

please enjoy and let me know if you like this and want more because my plan is to write a pretty long story with multiple chapters and I enjoy positive enforcement :..)

⋆˖⁺‧₊☽◯☾₊‧⁺˖⋆

“Excuse me?” a timid voice whispered from the large wooden chest being hoisted between two winged warriors. The moonlight of Vaneheim shone through the keyhole, and YN could only guess the direction they were headed from her memory of the woods. She knocked on the inside of the box on the side of one of her captors. “E-excuse me?” she mumbled a bit louder, “ Um, where are we going? You shouldn’t take me too close to people. And I-it’s starting to feel a bit cramped in here-” A slam came from her left, cutting her off with a start and she held her breath.

“Shut your mouth, Serpent Tongue.” A voice of the Valkerie on her left boomed. YN sighed through her nose and sat silently, her little fingers squeezing into fists and resting on her thighs as she curled up tighter into the cramped chest. Her heart shuttered the farther they got away from her camp, and she could only hope that wherever she was going, she would be able to talk her way out of it and go back to solitude. It was best that way.

Suddenly, the marching of the two Valkeries stopped, and the rushing sound of wind and the screeching of ravens rang in YN’s ears. 

The chest rattled, and sweeping darkness fluttered over the moon’s light streaming through the keyhole. YN shut her eyes tightly, covering her ears as the screeching and wings got louder and louder until suddenly there was silence. Not eery, or deafening, but somehow suddenly calm and warm. YN slowly uncovered her ears, willing her eyes to open even slightly. A warm stream of candlelight and the sweet smell of juniper berries and oak came from the keyhole. She slowly rolled onto her knees and peeked out to see where she had been taken. The room was vast and stacked from floor to ceiling with books. Scrolls lay sprawled across a large wooden desk, and she could hear a fire crackling to the left. The screeching of a chair’s legs against the wood floor took her attention, and as she tried to peek at who it was, she gasped; the chest being dropped about a foot onto the floor.

“All-father,” the Valkyries stood rigidly at attention, “We have captured the girl, as requested.” The bottom half of a blue robe, embroidered in intricate golden threads and beading was all YN could see come into view and she swallowed thickly as he stood only a few feet from where she was. 

“Wha- she’s in there? The poor thing must be terrified, let her out at once!” He commanded, knocking on the top of the chest, “ I’m so sorry, dear child!” Odin apologized as the Valkyrie on the right unlocked the chest and both Valkyries lifted the top open. Inside, YN winced at the sudden flood of light and hid her face in her hands. Odin crouched down gently, resting his hands on the edge of the box. He waited patiently for the little girl to raise her head, peeking slightly at the man who just smiled down at her. “ I’m so sorry, child. I sent my valkyries because I knew they could be trusted with bringing you here unharmed, but I suppose I forgot to explain that you were to be treated as a guest,” he glared at one, “and not a suspect.” he glared at the other. They stayed unmoving, staring straight ahead. He sighed and turned his attention back to the little girl in the chest. “ You are here now, though, and you are safe now.” He said finally, reaching out a hand for her to grab. She stared at him for a moment and down at his hand, before slowly grabbing it and allowing him to help her from the chest. 

“Thank you…” she whispered finally as she got her footing on the wood floor. She still couldn’t look away from their hands as she spoke again. “Am I… in trouble? I apologize if I’ve done anything to upset you.” she froze at the sudden booming laughter of the man in front of her.

“ Trouble? Of course not, sweet girl. But you are very well-spoken, may I just say!”

“Thank you, sir.”

“ You may call me All-Father.” he offered with a pat on her hand. She nodded apprehensively but responded in any case.

“Thank you, All-Father. You may call me YN,” she said instead, bowing a bit lower. Odin tutted and tucked a finder under the girl's chin, making their eyes meet. 

“ Now, now. None of that.” he stood tall and with a wave of his hand, the Valkeries dismissed themselves, and YN and Odin were left alone in his study. Odin turned to walk back behind his desk and took a seat, ushering the girl to sit in front of him. She obliged, crawling onto the large chair and letting her feet dangle off the floor, barely able to see Odin over the desk. The man chuckled softly and leaned in closer, resting his elbows on a stack of scrolls. “Do you know why you’re here, YN?”

She thought for a moment before shaking her head. “No, sir. But I hope I can help in some way, so that I may return home. It is best you keep me away from others.” Odin chuckled again, pointing at her. 

“That. That’s why—quite the negotiator. You are very well-spoken, YN, and you are so small. Did your family teach you such good manners?” he questioned, already knowing the answer.

“No sir, my family passed away long ago, I’ve been on my own for a bit now.”

“Hm… and how long is a bit?” 

“ 3 years in the spring, sir,” she said a bit too quickly. She had been counting every day she had been alone since she could remember. She was truly just a tot when it happened. Only remembering the screams and the flame of her village burning to the ground. She remembered sobbing over her mother’s corpse and promising to never let any needless bloodshed happen again. She didn’t realize her grief was so strong it had cursed her with immortality and the responsibility to hold up her end of the bargain. And though she tried her best to learn and meditate, no one took a little girl asking them to stop fighting seriously. Godly rage in the hands of an emotional child caused more harm than good, turning entire civilizations into mindless drones. No bloodshed, but no soul either. She went into hiding soon after, thinking it better for people to fight for what they believed in, rather than being complacent.

“And you don’t look a day over 12 years.” Odin broke her out of deep thought and she only nodded.

“My… aging has slowed since my family has passed...” She spoke slowly, starting to understand the circumstances.”... you know who I am, don’t you, sir? What I am…” She simply watched as Odin stroked his beard, seeming to ponder what to say next. 

“ I do…you are the young goddess of logic, strategy, protection…peace. You seek nothing but peace… And do you know who I am?” He questioned. YN paused for a moment, looking around the room before meeting his gaze once again, “ You are someone important… but I do not know beyond that, I am sorry…” Odin nodded again.

“ I am Odin, the All-Father. Kind of the Asir Gods. it is my job to protect Asgard and the rest of the 9 realms.” 

“Odin…” The girl let the name linger on her tongue and realization made her go ridged. “Yes… Yes, I have heard of Odin… are we in Asgard? I thought it wasn’t allowed for people like me.”Odin laughed at this, shaking his head in amusement.

“Yes for our protection I have closed us off from the other realms. But you are a guest. You’ve been alone for a long time.” He stated. 

“Yes, sir. I know nothing much outside of Vaneheim, and I have spent little time talking to people enough to understand what is happening in the realms. The easiest way to keep peace for me… is to keep space…”

“Mmh…” he hummed, hinting he wanted some elaboration. The girl nodded and continued,

“ I have found that when I speak… when I speak with people and I’m not careful… they become, uhm… empty?” she tried the word on her tongue, “they don’t act the same. Like ghosts just passing by each other. There is no war or hunger… but there is also no life…” she explained, starting to lose her train of thought. “I just don’t know what I’m doing…” she whispers finally. Odin nods and straightens himself to look down at YN.

“ I’ve been keeping my eye on you for a while, dear child. You seemed so alone, it was heartbreaking…Are you lonely?”

“Yes.” She spoke, without hesitation, not even quite realizing her own words until they rang in her ears. She stiffened in realization, but slowly relaxed into her seat, fidgeting with her hands. “Yes, I am…I don’t run into people much… and Skoll and Hati are a great company, but I miss… I miss my family…” she all but whispered at last, her lip quivering as she came to the realization this was the longest conversation she’s had in nearly 50 years. A blink of an eye in her immortal life, but long and unbearable just the same. She was, after all, only a child. Odin took a moment to listen and let the girl sit in silence before standing up slowly and walking up to her before crouching at her side. 

“ I have been watching over you… and how deeply you care for every breathing creature around you so much that you find the strength to stay away is something deeply admirable. You are a very powerful, YN. And I think if you stayed here with me… I would be able to help you use your power to help Asgard build strong connections with all the realms, to create peace everywhere, without fear that you may be manipulating people with your words.”

YN looked up to meet Odin’s gaze and rubbed a tear welling up in her eye. The idea that she may be able to help so many people. May be able to stop needless bloodshed. And to do so without taking away people's free will. It made her heart thrum with hope for the first time in years. 

“You think you can teach me?” she asked softly, rubbing under her nose. Odin smiled, resting his withered hand on her head. “Teach me to help people? To help build relationships and… and keep their souls whole?”

“With my help?” Odin asked dramatically, “ Absolutely.” 

YN’s heart pumped fast in her chest and she couldn't stop herself from throwing her little arms around Odin’s neck, pressing her teary eyes into his shoulder. He stiffened, staring at the girl clinging to him, before relaxing with a chuckle and patting her back. She knew better than to trust strangers, but for the first time in a long time, she didn’t feel alone.

“We will talk more soon, but now it is late. Let me show you to your room, There is a hot meal waiting for you, and we don’t want it to get cold now, do we?” He held her at arm's length by the shoulders and helped her whip her tears with the end of his robe. She could only nod as she tried to subside her gently sobbing and Odin stood tall, guiding her with a gentle hand on her head to the upstairs level of the lodge. It was mostly quiet, with gentle murmurs coming from a room here or there. The candlelight felt so calming and YN took this moment to just take in the grandness of the lodge. 

“ It’s so big…” she whispered. Odin snickered and ruffled her hair.

“I suppose it is, isn’t it?” he stopped in front of a large oak door at the end of the hall with gold inlay and burnt carvings. He swung the door open to reveal and gently lit the room, Simple yes, but to YN? It was the picture of comfort. I fireplace in one corner, a large queen bed in the other piled with a stack of fine furs with a corner table. A bowl of stew steamed and being cooled by a light breeze flowing through the window. Finally, her eyes landed on two shelves, one full of books and one full of weapons.

“Weapons?” she looked at them quizzically. Odin simply nodded as he led her to her bed, pulling the small table closer so she could start eating. 

“ yes. You will be taught to hone your brains, but every Asgardian god must learn to fight. It’s an unfortunate precaution. But it’s because I care so deeply for my family.” YN, swallowing a piping mouthful and staring at Odin with eyes wide as dinner plates.

“Family… me?”

Odin just smiled in return leaning town to tuck a stray hair behind the girl’s ear and kissing the top of her head. 

“Get some rest, sweet girl.” With that, Odin walked to the door and bowed before taking his leave. As he shut the door and turned, he could see piercing pink eyes staring from the room across the way. “Heimdall?” he questioned, and was met by the embarrassed gasp of the little boy who had been caught red-handed. Odin sauntered over to the door and the door opened wider, revealing a young boy who looked about twelve, with a mop of golden blond hair and bright rosy sapphire eyes, freckles showing in the candlelight. The boy bowed deeply.

“I’m sorry, All father. I heard noises…different ones I mean.” He stated, not looking his father in the eyes. He seemed to wince now and then, as a barrage of noises and conversations pounded into his ears. Odin patted his head lightly and Heimdall looked up, trying not to show his nervousness. “Who is that girl?”

“A guest, Heimdall. She’ll be staying with us for a while.”

“A guest… do you think she can be trusted, All-father?” Heimdall looked nervously beyond his father’s figure, staring at the door and listening to what could be happening. There was the clinking of a spoon hitting the bottom of a bowl, the crackle of a dying fire, and a soft hum that seemed to soothe his trembling the more he focused on it. He looked back as his father chortled. 

“ I suppose I’ll leave that up to you. She can be of great use to us as a mediator, and she seems eager to help if it means she can learn her powers. But only time will tell.” Heimdall nodded, wringing his hands together nervously as he spoke up again.

“ Do you think… we could be friends, All-Father?”

“Friends? My boy, I’m sorry but I can’t have you getting too distracted. It would be best if you could read her mind and be done with it. If only you were improving faster.” He tsked and Heimdall lowered his head.

“And besides,” Odin continued, “ She will have her own studies to focus on.” Heimdall’s shoulders drooped at the answer and he nodded, meekly. Odin sighed, pinching his temple in slight annoyance before putting on another smile and resting a hand on his Son’s shoulder. “Listen… I will introduce you two, and maybe I can have you two do some combat training here or there. This will allow you the opportunity to learn more about her; do some intel work for me, hm? But you have a very important role to fulfill, Heimdall, I can’t let you lose sight of that. Alright?” Heimdall perked up slightly and nodded.

“Yes, All-father. Thank you, All-father. I promise I won’t get distracted,” he bowed deeply and retreated behind his bedroom door. “Good night, All-Father.”

Heimdall spun from the door, his little bare feet carrying him to his bed where he tucked himself into his furs. He would learn more about the girl with the soft voice tomorrow. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

YN woke to the sound of bustling outside her door. She rubbed her eyes, listening to the heavy footfalls of leather boots and the clatter of daggers and axes dangling off belts. She took in the noise of people talking and shouting down the hall, the sound of sparing outside her window, and what sounded like staff calling out to each other while running errands. She rubbed her tired eyes, stretched her arms high above her head, and flopped deeper into the furs, opening her eyes to look at the ceiling. The more she listened, the more it made her nervous; the thought she was so close to so many people. Her lips pressed tight, she sighed through her nose to ease her nerves. 

“ Just don’t try to fix anything…” She mumbled to herself. She didn’t know where she was and how long she would be here, and though Odin had been welcoming and explained that being locked in the chest was a gross misunderstanding, she couldn’t shake a feeling of unnerve hidden under the warmth she felt being in a soft bed and being fed kind words. She learned long ago to never trust first impressions, but being paranoid wouldn’t help either. She felt her body start to shiver but caught herself, frowning and smacking her cheeks lightly to knock out the nerves. “Everything will be fine.”

“Who are you talking to?”

“Ah!” she yelped and sprang up from her bed to see a maid had made herself comfortable in YN’s room. The maid paid no mind to the girl’s scream, simply walking over to the window to open it, letting a cool breeze in.

“I was wondering when you would finally wake up. Goodness, I only checked five different times this morning! The whole lodge is awake now and you are supposed to be at the training grounds in 30 minutes!” She was an older woman; round and soft with a simple dress that skated across the floor and a tattered apron covered in what looked like coffee stains and dust. She had rough brown hair with lightened streaks that showed her age. Crow's feet pulled at the corners of her eyes and she had permanent worry marks on her forehead. Despite that and her fast pace, she gave off a comforting aura that made YN feel safe. She hustled about, grabbing a shirt and a pair of trousers from a wooden cabinet, she set them on the bed and the girl's feet. “My name is Maliorn; you can call me Mal, Do not call me “maid” or I will smack you,” she warned. “Quickly now, grab these and come with me. I need to get you in the bath and dressed in 20 minutes.”

“Oh, ok, but-whoa!” The maid ushered her out of the hall and pushed her towards a grand bathroom. “W-wait I’m sorry I don’t understand can I at least-” YN yelped as she was shoved yet again.

“No time, we are far too behind for questions. Hurry, hurry, hurry!” YN felt eyes around staring at her, most likely because she was an unfamiliar face being corralled into a bath and trying and failing to get a word in. Before the maid slammed the door, YN saw bright pink eyes stare back into hers, the boy’s shoulders shaking in laughter at her. Her face flushed with embarrassment and she couldn’t do much but hide her face in her clothes. Mal huffed as YN simply froze and ushered her to the bath. “None of that now. I wouldn’t have to rush you if you had just woken up earlier. Clothes off please.” 

“I didn’t know I needed to, I’ve never had a schedule before,” YN explained, pulling her nightshirt off over her head. “I’m sorry, Ma’am.”

“Just Mal, dear,” Mal stated, picking YN up from under her arms and dropping her into the bath. YN gasped, shivering and trying to crawl out before Mal pushed her back and poured a pitcher of ice-cold water onto her head, grabbing shampoo.

“It’s f-freezing!” YN whined, shaking like a leaf as Mal pulled her sopping hair from her face and scrubbed any grime from it. 

“Tch, well it would have been warm if you were awake when I drew it.” Mal teased with a smile, pouring another pitcher of water to wash the suds out. After a more thorough scrub down than YN would have liked, Mal pulled her out of the bath, tossing her a soft towel. “Hurry and get dressed. If you are quick you may be able to grab some bread from the great hall before I take you to the training grounds. Do NOT,” mal pointed a finger at the girls forehead “ go to the great hall alone. Find me and I will get you something to eat.” With that, Mal slipped out of the room, most likely to run off and take care of her other duties while she waited for YN to get dressed. The girl finally took the first deep breath since she woke up and pulled on her black trousers and green tunic, tying in the back around her waist to stop any bunching. She used leather straps to tighten the cloth of her shirt to her wrists, as well as her trousers around her ankles. She wrapped a final piece around her hair into a ponytail and ran off to try and find Mal. 

YN ended up wandering into the great hall, The smell of fresh bread and lingonberry jam, sausage and lamb roast, porridge and honey, and even sweet almond cakes made her mouth water. She followed it to a main table, crowded by people nearly stacked on top of each other. Warriors in the morning were desperate to eat their fill before going off to train, and as a result, there were stronger warriors at the forefront hoarding food while others pushed against the table to grab at anything they could find. This caused fresh loaves, cakes, butter, and jam jars to topple off the table in a waste, causing more problems of ‘I was going to eat that!’ and ‘You owe me a new pair of boots, worm!’. 

YN was able to dissect the entire situation and how it could be fixed, but shook her head. ‘No’ she thought ‘I can’t intervene on my first day. I just need to grab something and leave.’ With that, YN tried her best to squeeze between the crowds of people swarming the table to get some food. She huffed and tried again to move past the large lumbering bodies, her heart beating faster as the crowd’s shouting made her lose her bearings. She started to panic at the yelling and lack of space and gasped as she was grabbed by the hair and yanked to the side. 

“Oy, I’m not done yet, vermin.” A man sneered down at her, his face caked in the oils of sausage links and jam. He spoke with his mouth full, sputtering food, and cackled as YN whipped her face from flying crumbs before turning back to his food. YN scowled, feeling something primal bubble up deep inside her. Letting her frustration get the better of her, YN took a deep breath before tugging on the leg of the einherjar who had grabbed her not a moment ago. He whipped around at her, snarling in annoyance. 

“What do you want, you little rat?” the man sneered. YN blinked her big eyes and smiled up shyly at the hulk of a man.

“I’m very sorry, sir, but I’m having some trouble getting to the food table. Don’t you think it would be better if everyone simply took turns grabbing what they needed and then taking a seat?” Her voice seemed to echo and carry through the great hall like a song, and the shouting and clamoring started to quiet as people listened to her “suggestion”. The man in front of YN seemed to get clouded vision as he nodded slowly, his features relaxing as he finally swallowed his food and moved to the side so she could get to the table, others following suit, humming in agreement at the suggestion. The girl smiled and grabbed a loaf of warm bread, breaking it open and watching the steam ripple from the inside. She hummed as she slathered it with butter and jam and folded it back closed. Turning back, she bowed slightly at the crowd slowly surrounding her.

“Thank you, now I will take my leave and let someone else go. See? Isn’t that much better?” the girl asked with a smile, going to suck some jam off her thumb. 

“Yes… You are right. So sorry, goddess…” She froze at the title, her thumb still in her mouth. She quickly popped it out and shook her head. ‘I did it again…’ she thought in a panic. YN swallowed thickly and waved her hands in the air. 

“N-nevermind! It was a dumb idea, do what you want!” In a split second everyone seemed to regain their senses. The warrior she had spoken to blinked back his foggy haze and focused back down at her, glaring. 

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing? I wasn’t done eating yet, you little runt!” She gasped as he reached out his arm to snatch at her, and yelped when she was suddenly pulled by her scruff from the crowd. She was all but dragged outside and whipped around to a panicked Mal, who grabbed her face and scanned her body.

“My goodness, are you alright?!” Mal sighed as the girl nodded and then put on a scowl. “I thought I told you to come find me. The great hall is no place for you to be going alone, they’re all animals in there. ESPECIALLY in the mornings! The bunch of heathens.” Mal scolded YN until she noticed the girl's shy form looking meakly down at her bread. She sighed and patted her head before putting a hand on her back and leading her towards the training ground. “Now now, no use crying over spilled milk. I’m glad you got something to eat, you’ll need it. Hurry and wolf that down while you can.” YN nodded and took a bite of her breakfast, humming at the soft texture of the bread and sweet jam. She looked towards the training grounds and focused on a small boy, about her age. His golden hair shimmered in the morning sun as he moved swiftly against his opponent, a large lumbering man with fiery red hair. The boy turned, feeling YN’s eyes on him, scowled as he met her gaze. The girl frowned in return. ‘What’s his problem?’ she thought, suddenly feeling anxious at having to interact with someone who held such obvious disdain on his face.

 Heimdall clicked his tongue as he focused more on her, trying to hear her thoughts, but couldn’t focus when they were so far apart. He didn’t pay enough attention to dodge a blow to the back of the head from the man he was sparing.

“Ow!” he exclaimed, glaring up at his brother, “ Hey, I wasn’t ready!” he snapped. The young man rolled his eyes, tossing his hammer lazily in his hand. He was nearly seven feet tall and still growing. His hair was tied back in two braids and a bun, and the scruff of his beard was just long enough for a single short braid.

“Pay attention, brat. I have more important things to do than teach you how to swing a sword around. The least you could do is pay attention,” he looked down at Heimdall and smirked, “and stop making it so obvious you’re trying to read minds. It’s pathetic.” Heimdall gritted his teeth.

“I’m already more useful than you, Thor. All you’re good for is throwing your weight around!” he snapped back. Thor stopped tossing his hammer and instead harshly held it under his brother’s chin, making him strain to look up at him. 

“Better than being a sniveling little monster who can’t even use his gifts without sobbing like a baby. Should I tell All-Father about a few nights back? When you wept for hours because “it was just too loud to sleep~” Thor made a mocking whimper as he impersonated Heimdall and his last episode. Heimdall shivered at the mention of the All-Father and what he would do if he found out Heimdall had been crying from the voices in his head again. Thor continued, “At least I do what I was made for. I can fight, and you can barely do that.”

“Yes, I can!”

“Oh yeah?” Thor looked over at the girl coming closer to the training ground. Odin had already told him he was going to be given another brat to babysit and was dreading it until now. He smirked as he looked back down at Heimdall. “That little runt has probably never fought in her life. I bet you can’t even beat her.” Heimdall looked back towards the girl and then up at his brother.

“Is that a wager?” he smirked. Thor snorted.

“Sure. if you can best her, I’ll tell Father you’ve been improving much faster these past few days. If you can’t beat her, then…” Thor strokes his beard as he ponders a punishment then shrugs, “I’ll tell the All-Father about your most recent tantrum.” Heimdall’s eyes widened and he shook his head.

“You can’t be serious!”Thor simply stood straight and crossed his arms.

“I mean, if you don’t think you can do it-”

“Of course, I can!” the boy snapped, his cheeks flushed with embarrassment. Thor snickered and held out his hand. 

“It's a bet then.” Heimdall scowled and put his little hand in his brother's. He wasn’t going to lose to some little girl from who knows where. He was an Aseir prince. And no one would know about the things that keep him up at night. Not even the All-Father. 

⋆˙⟡☾𖤓☽ ⟡˙⋆

#fiction #heimdall x reader #heimdall gow #gow ragnorak #gow odin #god of war x reader #fem!reader #gow x you #heimdall x you #i don't know what else to tag #@engardeitsme #i think thats it #let me know if i'm missing one #mute!reader #child!reader #child!Heimdall #I am kind not complacent #dance with me like the sun and moon

[yutafrita]

An Angel, my Angel, and Me — PT. 3

⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖

Navigation…. Preview // One // Two // Three

[Feat. Soyeon, Yangyang, Eunseok, and Yuqi]

Chapter Warnings: Religious imagery and lore (primary Catholic), potentially occult imagery, court room drama, mentions of angelic police force/criminal system, small allusions to depression/ suicidal ideation (it’s a very small blink and you miss it moment)

Genre: Fake married, court room drama, romcom

Word Count: 4.5k

CHAPTER THREE- 12 ANGRY ANGELS

Your local public library allowed people to rent out rooms. Some used these free spaces for book clubs, others used it for work or school projects, and as it turns out, Shotaro used them for nephilim meet and greets.

You paced in circles outside of the library, Sungchan having his arms crossed as you did so.

“You don't have to go,” he repeated this for the third time in ten minutes.

“I know, but I want to.”

“Then why have you been out here pacing for the past ten minutes?”

You groaned in frustration, stopping in your tracks. You wished you could drag Sungchan into the meeting room with you, but Shotaro made it extremely clear that you were to come alone and ready to speak to others. You couldn’t help it- Sungchan made you feel safe. He didn’t have to do anything but be around you and you could feel perfectly at ease.

“Hey,” Sungchan put both of his hands on your shoulders, “it’s going to be just fine. Plus, I’ll be out here the whole time if you need anything.”

“Thanks… I appreciate it,” you forced a nod. Your relationship with the angel at this point was a tangled ball of yarn that gave you a headache whenever you attempted to pull at the threads. You found yourselves holding hands when no one was looking, being around each other all the time despite Sungchan not needing to be around you at all hours, and have even stolen a few more touches than just the occasional kiss.

“Good luck, now go!” Sungchan lightly shoved your shoulders and pushed you towards the front door. 

You stumbled as you entered, earning a surprised look from the librarian. Standing up tall, you approached her desk.

“Hi, where is the meeting room for,” you stopped your whisper to look at the club name Shotaro had texted to you only to then say it through gritted teeth, “the Catholic Geologist club?”

“Second floor game room,” she nodded before extending her hand, “here is a pamphlet with all of the clubs offered here.”

“Thank you,” you politely took it before you followed her directions. Considering how painfully underfunded the library was, you wondered how Shotaro could even justify the space he had the group taking up. That was until you entered the room.

The space was the size of your living room and was broken up into thirds. The left hand side contained a few rectangular tables all covered with board games and card games. The right hand side was wall to wall filled with arcade machines all buzzing with life and ready for use. The center third is what surprised you. It was filled with fold out chairs and every seat was taken and facing the door.

“There she is!” Shotaro had popped out from the side of the door, slinging an arm over your shoulder in his excitement. “Welcome the newest member of the Nephilim meetup group!”

The 15 people gathering all smiled and cheered, the warm buzz in the room helping set you at ease. Shotaro pointed to the singular empty chair in the front and you scooted into the spot. 

“Welcome, I’m Yuqi,” the girl to your right introduced herself to you as hushed discussions fell amongst the group.

“Hi, nice to meet you!”

“Don’t get too close to Yuqi, she inherited her angel grandma’s ability to change memories,” the guy to your left cut in. You were nervous about being caught in a spat before you saw the smirk forming on his and Yuqi’s lips. “I’m Eunseok, I’m half angel.”

You introduced yourself and timidly added, “my… father is the angel.”

You hadn’t really admitted it to yourself. Your Mom had told you that she met your Dad in a whirlwind romance she had on a study abroad trip in Japan, and by the time she got back, she was pregnant without any way of contacting him. Your Mom, your grandparents, and the rest of her large family all leant a hand, and you never sought out more information since you didn’t think there was any. So, learning that he was an angel… it needed time to sink in.

But, saying it out loud was still a good first step.

“All right everyone!” Shotaro called everyone's attention, a clipboard waving in his hands. “You guys know the deal- first two minutes is roll call, next ten minutes are whatever y’all want to discuss, and then it’s game time,” he then met your eyes, “and our rules state that any new members have to be a part of the first fight.”

By first fight, they meant playing the first three rounds of Dance Dance revolution.

“I can’t believe the library just has these games,” you muttered as Shotaro set up the first game. He had taken it upon himself to be your first challenger. 

“Oh yeah. We’ve been coming here for years so we did a fundraiser last year and were able to fully upgrade the room,” he explained before clapping his hands, “all right, let’s go.”

You typically viewed yourself as being pretty good at rhythm games, but wow, Shotaro really made you question that notion. He wasn’t just pretty good- it was like he was a completely different person when the music came on. You completely lost the game to him but you almost couldn’t even count it because he was a complete monster in the game.

“I’ll go!” Yuqi nearly yanked Shotaro off the console after the first song.

“Are you all as good as him?” you asked, still breathing embarrassingly heavy.

“Oh god no- he’s a professional dancer. He was just trying to flex,” she exposed, causing you to look back and glare at Shotaro who could only laugh at being exposed. 

You were able to keep up a bit more with Yuqi, both of you smiling and laughing the whole time. You came out on top by only ten points, and considering your miserable defeat beforehand, you considered it a true victory.

“I’ll take this last one!” Eunseok popped forward, and that was when you noticed it. On his back was a set of small, uneven wings. A few others in the room had their own, all different sizes and different variants of shapes and colors- Eunseok’s wings were fully gray.

“You can pick this last song,” you smiled, leaning back on the machine’s bar.

“Oh? Hell yeah,” he chirped. After Eunseok beat you by a few points, you stepped off the machine, finally released from your hazing.

“Wanna play cards?” Yuqi phrased it as a question, but was already grabbing your hand and guiding you to the other end of the room. 

The night was wonderful. You were able to laugh and smile with other nephilim, and while you were certainly annoyed by Shotaro’s ominous approach to showing you everything, you were happy to finally have an understanding. 

After exchanging phone numbers with Yuqi and Eunseok, you left the club room with a few minutes remaining on the clock. Outside, you felt the soft kiss of fall approaching and you tightened your cardigan as you looked around for Sungchan. 

“Meow,” you looked down, seeing the black cat you haven’t seen in ages. You knelt down, confused until his tail angled itself to gesture to something. Following the eyeline, you noticed a set of two angels across the street, both looking down on a tablet before glancing back at the library.

“Troops,” you whispered, earning a nod from Sungchan’s cat form. Scoping him up in your arms, you pressed him close to your chest and started making your way to your apartment. With your shielding abilities and the charm that allows Sungchan to turn into a cat, you were able to breeze by the troops and make the brisk three blocks back to your apartment in one piece.

“I can’t believe they got that close,” you announced once you made it back inside and released the cat. So quickly it occurred within the blink of an eye, Sungchan returned to his normal angelic state, a layer of sweat having formed on his forehead. “I wish you had told me, I would have left sooner-.”

“You have a life,” he was kurt in his response. “I’ll be out of your hair after this trial… I’ll turn myself in as soon as Soyeon gives me the go ahead.”

“I- I’m not bothered by you being around,” you defended, moving towards him, “do… you plan to leave after your trial, though?”

“You can just tell everyone that your husband left you, you’ll gain sympathy points,” he laughed, a hint of bitterness in his tone. You went to grip his arm only for him to turn on his heel and go to the kitchen. “I’m going to make a snack, do you want anything?”

“Sungchan,” you were confused and frustrated, and approached the kitchen with a furrowed brow. “Sungchan, listen to me.”

“Hm?”

“Sungchan, I love you,” the words spilled out like a waterfall. He froze, dropping the jar of peanut butter spread onto the floor as you continued. “You are free to do whatever you want, and I’ll make sure Soyeon still helps but… I can’t pretend anymore. I want you in my life.”

His bottom lip quivered before all you heard was, “no.”

Your blood ran cold, “what?”

“You shouldn’t love me. It’s not good for humans if they do. It’s okay if I love you but-.”

“You love me?” you cut him off, inching closer and closer to him. Sungchan closed the space between the two of you, and wrapped his arms around your waist.

“You idiot, I love you so much it hurts. But… if something were to ever happen to you because of me-.”

“I love you,” you pressed your hands on both sides of his face, “I love you so much. I would do anything for you. But, that’s my choice, not yours.”

He pressed his lips to your forehead before pressing his forehead against yours, “I love you. I want to always be with you, if you’ll have me.”

Eagerly you met his lips in a soft kiss, “I love you too.”

He tucked your hair behind your ear, his fingers trailing down along your neck and leaving goosebumps before he stood up tall and swiftly picked you up. 

“What are you doing?” you laughed, now folded over his shoulder as he carried you easily from the kitchen to your room.

“We’re home alone, and we’re in love. We’re going to finally fuck.”

“Oh wow, finally.”

Be that as it was, the jar of peanut butter stayed on the floor the rest of the night.

*********

“The trial is in a week,” Soyeon repeated this sentiment to you as you laid on the couch, pouting. It had been two weeks since you and Sungchan officially began dating, and for one of the weeks he was in Angel jail awaiting trial. “Stop moping.”

“I know your defense is kick ass but what if the jury doesn’t care?” you aired your true worries then. Soyeon was viciously intelligent. On earth her degree was in Public relations, but apparently when she was training to be a guardian she went to the equivalent of angel law school. You knew she was the best defense Sungchan could get, you were terrified by the other angels not being open-minded.

Soyeon shoved your feet off the couch and sat down, sighing as she met your eyes.

“You know, this is why I begged to be your guardian angel.”

You blinked, “what?”

“Your guardian angel had like, four different people he was responsible for. I was implanted as your neighbor just to give a helping hand to any other proper guardians in the area. Anyways, he was never there to help you and you… you were so kind and you cared so much about everyone…”

“I can take care of myself,” you sat up then, before playfully punching her arm, “but thanks, for being there for me.”

“I know you can take care of yourself, but everyone needs a helping hand. Whether they’re a human or an angel.”

“I just hope the jury agrees too,” you folded your hands on your lap, nervous as you continued to spiral.

“They will, because… you’re going to do us both a favor.”

******

“These sunglasses are ridiculous,” you were irritated, but you weren’t going to do much beyond that unless you wanted to have your eyeballs melt out from their sockets and speak in tongues. The sunglasses nephilim needed to wear to be able to walk around heaven were bulky, dark, and would typically not allow any natural light enter.

Heaven did not contain any natural light.

Soyeon was holding you firmly in her hands, her wings emitting golden flecks as she maneuvered around the busy courthouse to guide you to where you would have to wait before taking the stand.

“Well, sorry they didn’t have any designer sunglasses. Next time you have to be a character witness for your boyfriend I’ll bear that in mind,” she sassed before stopping in front of a tall oak door. “This is the room you’ll be sequestered in until the court officer comes to get you. I think it’s going to be a troop member… unless they want to scare you.”

“Isn’t a troop member scary enough?” you asked, arms crossed as you looked around the hall. While most people had bright white wings, you did see the occasional pair of black wings or other people like you with a thick pair of sunglasses.

“I would say a Saint would be scarier… you’re going to be fine,” she squeezed your shoulder with one hand, realizing the absolute fear your face wore. “The judge presiding over the case on behalf of the Lord is nice, I think we have a chance.”

Soyeon breathed deeply before looking at her wrist watch, “look, just read your book or doodle or stare at the wall. I’m going to make sure your boyfriend can get out so he can pay us back by getting us dinner,” she opened the door for you before maneuvering towards the courtroom entrance and away from you.

The room was relatively bare- a small bookcase, a table with a few wooden chairs, and a floor to ceiling window that was still freakishly bright even with the special sunglasses. 

It was bold of Soyeon to assume you’d be able to do anything besides nervously pace for several hours. The trial wasn’t meant to go beyond a week, and according to Soyeon had been going a little better than she anticipated- as in the jury was paying attention and not immediately calling Sungchan a blasphemous heathen.

Thinking back to your time with Sungchan in the last few weeks, you sighed. Sungchan had been wildly nervous, and had taken up your habit of picking at his own cuticles to a point that you started carrying around bandaids in case he accidentally plucked off his skin. 

Looking at your own bag that carried your untouched book, you frowned upon seeing the Kero Kero Keroppi bandaids. All you could do was hope that he had stopped picking at them, and if not, hopefully he’d be able to heal quickly. According to Sugchan, Guardian angels were the ones that had relatively indestructible flesh and insane healing abilities. For Fallen Angels, unless they were members of the troop, their healing abilities may be a little faster than humans, but that was it.

“So, can you guys die?” you remember asking.

“Not really, we’ll just have our souls sent to hell,” Sungchan had answered this question with a shrug as if it was no big deal.

Drowning in your thoughts, the door opened. “It’s your time to take the stand.”

Time moved in a blur until you were seated in the witness stand.

“Objection.”

“On what grounds?”

“The witness is in a relationship with the accused and is being guarded by the defendant’s lawyer,” the prosecutor countered. You gulped, trying to keep a straight face as you sat frozen at the front of the courtroom.

“Seeing as there are no rules against either of those factors… you may continue with your testimony,” the judge’s voice was oddly soothing, cutting through the bright gold and white emitted throughout the courtroom. The jurors all but two had bright white wings with gaudy gold flecks, and it refracted the already searing light in the room. 

Soyeon cleared her throat and started her line of questioning. You and Soyeon had such a natural way of behaving with one another that you were both visibly struggling to not crack jokes at the other or laugh. Her line of questioning felt like eons, but after looking at the clock above the jury you widened your eyes slightly to see only two hours had passed.

“The prosecution may now approach the witness with any questions,” the judge announced. Your throat ran dry, and you took a short sip of the glass of water in front of you. 

The prosecutor sent a short wink to another person on his team before standing tall. He had an arrogant air to him. It surprised you considering that his wings indicated that he too was a guardian angel.

“Thank you, your honor. This will be quick,” he stood between you and the jury before directly meeting your eyes, “ma’am, so to confirm, Sungchan was a vagrant whom tricked you into taking him in by disguising himself as a cat?”

“Objection- leading question,” Soyeon nearly shot out from her seat. 

“Please strike that from the record and rephrase your line of questioning,” the judge sighed. You frowned, balling your hand into a fist to try and keep yourself together. You had been avoiding looking at Sungchan, terrified that seeing him would bring you to tears, but you more than anything hoped that he didn’t take what the prosecutor said to heart.

“Sungchan, the accused, disguised himself as what animal?” the prosecutor started.

“In order to keep himself safe he took on the disguise of a cat. His intentions-,” you were cut off by the prosecutor. 

“I didn’t ask about his intentions, ma’am,” you watched as he sent a glance of irritation to the jury as if wanting them to judge you, “in the two years he was there, did Sungchan reveal himself to you?”

You shook your head, “no.”

“So, he simply mooched off of you for that time?”

You chewed on the inside of your cheek before you spoke up again, “no, he didn’t. He may not have contributed to the rent, but he did contribute to where we lived, even as a cat.”

The prosecutor seemed irritated by this and cleared his throat before pressing on, “how did he contribute?”

“Well, for starters, my roommate and I aren’t the cleanest people in the world, but we’re the only people on our floor of our apartment complex to not get a roach infestation. Sungchan- or rather Eerie, what I named his cat, was the one that basically guarded us from it all.”

“Was that it?”

“No,” you bit your bottom lip before you continued, “those last two years of my academic career were some of the most emotionally taxing in my life. Having Eerie there to rely on me, be near me, and be a non-judgemental ear was frankly life saving. Sure, Sungchan needed me around to stay safe but,” that was when you finally met Sungchan’s gaze. You choked up a bit seeing a ghost of a tear run down his cheek, and you passed the back of your hand under your glasses to stop a tear from falling before you finished speaking. “He needed me around to stay safe, but I really needed him around to stay alive. He cares deeply for humans… isn’t that what you’re all supposed to do?”

Grumblings and mutters broke-out all throughout the court-room, several of the jurors discussing amongst themselves and angels in the back of the room standing up as if to have a talk with the court officers. The judge hit his gavel loudly, the noises all trickling to a silence after he hit it a second time.

“Do you have any other questions for the witness?” the judge asked, his voice much softer now after hearing you speak.

The prosecution's face was red with anger before he answered, “no, sir.”

******

Soyeon taped up her last box, and you both looked away from each other to wipe away your tears.

It had been five months since Sungchan received his verdicts and sentencing, and in that time you and your best friend/ guardian angel had a lot of conversations. One of which was her deciding to take a job promotion that required her to move to another part of the world.

“Sungchan, you better take good care of her,” Soyeon shoved the taller mans shoulder, his white wings glistening despite the light in your apartment’s kitchen needing to be replaced. You didn’t quite realize that Soyeon provided most of your kitchenware, so you added to your mental to do list that you and Sungchan needed to grab a new skillet.

“Soyeon,” you turned back around after wiping away your tears, “you don’t need to worry about me. I want you to focus on yourself.”

“You better call me… you’re still my best friend,” she was visibly fighting back her tears as she went to grip your shoulders. 

“Yes, and now she’s only your best friend,” Sungchan emphasized, placing a hand on Soyeon’s shoulder.

“I can’t believe part of your sentencing was you needing to be a guardian again,” she seethed, a small glint of pride showing itself. She should be proud of herself- Sungchan may have gotten one guilty verdict, but he did get a not guilty verdict on the most hefty charge. She was a miracle worker, no pun intended.

“It just so happens to work out that my old guardian angel was taking on a new job,” you taunted, a laugh escaping you. “What kind of amazing luck is that?”

“Oh please, like I wouldn’t make sure he ended up around you somehow.”

“Soyeon, is this box ready?” Eunseok interjected, gesturing to the box she just closed. Sniffling, she nodded before walking off to instruct another mover in her room.

“I’m gonna miss her,” you confessed, leaning your head on Sungchan’s shoulder.

“I know, I’ll miss her too,” he wrapped an arm around you before pressing a kiss on the crown of your head. 

“Hey, you’ve known her forever, I just started being her friend,” Yuqi popped back out from Soyeon’s now empty room, a thin layer of sweat across her forehead. “It’s so not fair that now is when she’s moving.”

“I’ll visit all the time,” Soyeon defended, quickly rushing and obnoxiously pinching Yuqi’s cheeks. “It’s not like I’ll need to pay for airfare or anything.”

“Another perk of having a full set of wings,” Eunseok frowned.

“I’m telling you, Yangyang said he could help out with that,” you reiterated. The weird, eclectic group you had formed over the past few months was shifting again with Soyeon leaving, but you knew it would be okay. 

“He’s gonna charge me my life savings- no thanks,” Eunseok pointed, to which Sungchan nodded in affirmation.

Sungchan’s verdicts at the time were shocking enough for news to spread rapidly from guardians, to fallen angels, down to the nephilims.

You dreaded a guilty verdict- but remember the shock of hearing the jury’s decision. Guilty from robbery from the Library of Alexandria, and not guilty for returning the items to the human community.

“The defendant did have to break sacred glass to retrieve the book, therefore we the jury find him guilty of robbery. However, seeing as the items belonged to the human community, regardless of the idolatry harbored in them, it is not considered stolen goods to us, the jury. Therefore, we find Jung Sungchan not guilty on the charge of giving or selling stolen sacred goods.”

“All right,” Soyeon looked down at her watch, “I have to go ahead and deliver my items to get shipped over before I fly out.”

“Wow,” you huffed. You were going to miss seeing her everyday, but you knew that she deserved this promotion more than any other being. You were proud of her, and excited to see where her new guardian job would take her now.

“Please stop crying,” she begged, wiping away tears from her own face. After everyone walked Soyeon off to her car and several hugs and tears were shed (and more tears from you two), your best friend drove off. 

“You know you’ll see her in a week, right?” Eunseok poked, earning an arm punch from you, Yuqi, and Sungchan. “Ouch! Sorry!”

You and Sungchan cautiously entered Soyeon’s now empty room, expecting to be stunned by the sudden echo. Instead, you raised your eyebrow at the small crate in the corner with a note on top.

“We figured you’d want an actual cat. Plus, this apartment always does better with 3 inhabitants,” you read the note aloud, looking back at Sungchan who was smiling wildly. “No way.”

“Please let her out of her crate,” he was bouncing on his toes now, eager for you to see what he and Soyeon had presumably been planning for a while. Cautiously, you knelt down, eyes widening as you saw the small black kitten nestled on a bed in the back corner of her crate. Her eyes were shut until she heard your nervous fingers undo the clasp of the crate, her yellow eyes landing on you.

“Oh, hi,” you cooed, opening the door and moving back a few steps to give her space. Sungchan knelt down next to you, your eyes meeting.

“I already scheduled a vet visit for her next week. Soyeon and I both scoured all of the local rescues and agreed that she was the one for you,” he explained before he placed a small kiss on your forehead, “are you happy?”

You nodded eagerly before leaping forward and wrapping the angel in a hug. Sungchan, even when he was the cat, was watching out for you and your roommate. As your boyfriend, he’s gone along with the lie of pretending to be your husband. Now, as being both your boyfriend and guardian angel, he was more perfect than you could even imagine and just so thoughtful.

“I love you, Sungchan,” you squeezed him tightly as he hugged you back.

“I love you, too,” his face was buried in your neck until you felt a small body press itself against your leg. Breaking apart, you looked down to see the cat rubbing its body against you in both a bid to show that it felt comfortable and also to get your attention.

“Oh, she is so cute,” you could cry, gently petting the cat.

“She is, both of my girls are very cute,” he reached forward and scratched behind the cat’s ears, its eyes closing in comfort. 

“Now, the big question is, what are we going to name her?” you asked aloud. Figuring out the name of the cat was simply another step in your relationship with Sungchan, and another one you were happy to encounter.

⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖ ⊹˚. ♡.𖥔 ݁ ˖

More Sungchan

More of my works overall

Tags! @nini0620 @cherriruto @deonuism @90s-belladonna @lesserahyuck @hrjlvrs

Thank you so much for reading <3 please be sure to reblog and interact!

#sungchan x reader #sungchan fluff #sungchan imagines #sungchan scenarios #sungchan fic #sungchan x y/n #sungchan x you #riize x reader #riize imagines #riize fluff #riize scenarios #nct fics #nct fanfic #nct scenarios #nct imagine #nct x reader #nct x yn #nct x y/n #nct x you #kpop imagines #kpop fanfiction #text #fan fiction #mine

[shi-daisy]

Quiet Comfort

Hi everyone! Tamlin Week has begun and I'm very excited! I love our golden boy and while I have full length fic with him (This is a self ad go read A Court of Threads & Daisies 👀) I can't wait to try my hand at making mini fics with our cutie! 💚 Today on the agenda hurt/comfort Tamcien with beastly Tam. Hope you like!

@tamlinweek2023

Tamlin Week 2023- Day 1- Beast/Forbidden

Quiet Comfort (Set 20 years before book 1)

Lucien noticed the tears streaming down Tamlin's wolf like face. The High Lord had remained in his beastly form whenever he felt one of their own fall for the sake of the curse.

He stood up from his desk, laying down on the fluffy carpet beside Tamlin and gently drying his eyes.

Tamlin tried to stop the tears to no avail. He knew this was inevitable but from first to whatever last if they ever managed to see the end of it, he would grieve.

"I'm so tired." Tamlin spoke in a ragged roaring voice in this form. It always cought him off guard.

"Do you want to go to sleep?"

"No, no that's not what I meant." He said, looking at Lucien with his shimmering emerald eyes. "I'm tired of losing them because of the curse."

Ah. That he understood all too well. Almost everyday they'd lose a sentry, and after 30 years everyone was begining to lose hope, them included.

"I know what you mean, it dosen't get any easier."

Lucien found comfort in just looking at his High Lord. The green gaze, the fluffy golden frame, his antlers, even his downcast tail. No matter what form he took, he was always in awe. 'That's not awe you just love him.'

Lucien tried to shake the thought away. They had an unspoken agreement not to dwell on this, they had to break the curse for the sake of the court not mourn a romance that would never bloom again thanks to the blasted spell.

Tamlin looked at him in the same way, as if he could read his thoughts. He was trying, really trying to let go. But how can you let go when you actually found the love of your life?

Amarantha must've known, she must've seen how he would never be hers, how he'd been in love with the seventh Autumn prince since he first met him, how hurting Lucien insited more rage out of him than anything else she'd ever done. Perhaps if he'd been more guarded none of this would've happened...

"It's not your fault." Lucien told him. "She's the monster, not you."

"If I had submitted from the start, then the court wouldn't be in peril. It is my duty to protect them."

"Then who protects you?! Tamlin, you can't seriously think sacrificing yourself for our sake is prefrerable!"

Tamlin just kept looking at Lucien, at his lovely face covered by the fox mask, his golden eye and his russet one, the messy red curls and the soft dark skin. "Your mere presence is protection enough. I can withstand anything if I have you. I could even lived out the rest of my days in this form, without objection, if you're with me."

He should've told him off, he should've refused, or just reminded him that the love they had for eachother was now forbidden. They had to think of the court, they shouldn't be selfish and yet...

Lucien leaned closer, gently kissing Tamlin's lips. He didn't care that the latter was in beast form, or that there might come a day were he couldn't kiss him anymore. For now, all he wanted was to comfort him. "No matter what happens, what form you take, or whatever curses we face, I shall always love you."

"Me too." Tamlin didn't hesitate. Even if he did exactly as the curse entailed, even if he and Lucien ended up with different people, they'd never stop loving eachother in their own way.

Tamlin couldn't kiss him in this form, so he just gave him an affectionate lick. Lucien laughed relishing in the soft affections he missed so much.

The two were already sleepy, driffiting away upon the office floor. They both dozed off in an odd hug, given the size difference when Tamlin was in this form. By morning they'd have to forget, to keep trying to break the curse and forget their ill fated romance.

But for tonight they'd bask in eachothers warmth, and forget that moments like this would come to an end someday.

#tamlin week 2023 #tamlin week #pro tamlin #tamlin #lucien vanserra #tamcien #mini fic #Day 1: Beast/Forbidden

[scientistservant]

Oh yeah!! I completely forgot to mention this, but if any of you remember my posts last year on my old blog about a Long Live The Pumpkin Queen rewrite/fix-it-fic... that's still in the works! I just have a bunch of other projects I'm also working on but the prologue is almost done!!!!!

A small preview under the cut.

On a crisp autumn night in February, Dr. Finkelstein sat at a desk in his bedroom. Unintelligible notes were scattered about the table, the only noise he made was the tap-tap-tapping of his pen, along with a stray hum or two of thought.

The Doctor never liked to be too far from his work, but he greatly enjoyed his privacy — and so his room was tucked, inconspicuously, in a corner of his laboratory and away from prying eyes.

With another hum, Finkelstein opened the metal skull-cap that contained his brain and scratched at it; the Doctor did this whenever he really had to think hard about something — perhaps he was the one who started the phrase, “to rack one’s brain”.

With both hands Finkelstein shut his skull-cap in frustration, and got to his feet to search the desk’s drawers.

“Igor!” The ageing scientist shouted from his room and it carried through the hemispherical lab, the concave walls amplifying the volume and allowing Finkelstein’s hunchbacked assistant to hear, as clear as day, from the observatory’s cold, dark basement, “Bring me my tomes on apparitional properties!”

There was the sound of stumbling feet and panting, and after a moment Igor had entered the Doctor’s private room with a small tower of dusty books.

“I-I thought Master wanted to get rid of these,” said Igor as he tried to crane his head over the books.

“Nonsense,” Finkelstein stated matter-of-factly, “I never get rid of anything! Give them here.”

As the tomes were taken from Igor’s hands, a particularly dusty one slipped out from between two considerably less dusty books and fell, directly, onto the floor in front of the odd pair with a heavy ‘thump!’

The Doctor peered down at the book that now called the floor it's home from behind his small, black spectacles.

“Igor,” he said with a hint of both intrigue and irritation, “what is that?”

Through the dust, the book in question coloured a cool blue, adorned with a sparkling golden border on the covers both front and back. The book’s front bore no title, nor did the spine, yet in place of one was a dark blue silhouette of what appeared to be a lanky, bearded old man.

Not bothering to wait for his assistant’s answer, Finkelstein scooped the tome from off the cold, stone floor with a grunt. It was large in his small hands, and the dust collected upon his gloves, sparkling like tiny stars.

His right hand quivered as it reached for the cover, as though something dangerous would happen if the book were opened.

“Master?” Igor spoke up, seeing the Doctor’s apprehension.

Finkelstein clenched his hand tightly.

“Set the other books on the desk, Igor. I’ll look through them later.”

Right now, this tome was the only thing that held his attention.

The Doctor sat in a large reading chair that was nestled in a corner of his room, and opened the strange book to the first page.

He was greeted with wondrous penmanship, coloured a shimmering gold.

DREAMLAND: THE REALM OF DREAMS AND NIGHTMARES

the first page said. There was no author mentioned anywhere, as though the book had simply come into being one day.

Finkelstein continued to read,

The realm of dreams and nightmares is nestled in the deepest and darkest of wood. One can only find it if They have a strong dream They wish to fulfill. The souls of dreams will call to You.

The Doctor’s brow furrowed. He looked over, staring past the doorway of his private room, and into the laboratory.

On the operating table, covered in a white sheet, lay a body. It was nude, save for several layers of gauze completely surrounding the head and neck to the point of suffocation.

Tightly stitched seams of dark blue thread held the pale, grey-blue body together in sutures.

Finkelstein had been working for a long time on a creation he could spend time with, have conversations with. He felt he was far too old to start a meaningful relationship with anyone in town — that part of life was well past him now.

And so, instead of finding a relationship, he would make one.

But a creation made to converse with, to spend time with, needed a voice. A mind. The scientist of Halloween Town couldn’t simply ask a resident ghost to inhabit his dear creation, no — a ghost already had a life lived, its own memories and loved ones.

But a soul, made of dreams… his dreams — that seemed enticing.

Soon, Finkelstein made his way down to the observatory’s foyer, dressed in a moth-eaten cloak for warmth and an oil lantern in hand. Igor followed behind him.

“I’ll be alright, Igor. Don’t tell anyone where I’m going.”

“Master, is that wise? Going out into the Hinterlands alone? Igor should go with Master.“

“Don’t follow me. You need to stay here and look after the lab.”

“But…”

There was a tug on his sleeve — a useless attempt to have Finkelstein stay — and the Doctor whirled his head to face his assistant, a small hand clutching the door handle in fury.

“Igor, that is an ORDER from your MASTER!”

Silence seemed to fill the entire observatory and, not wanting to anger the scientist further, Igor backed away.

Finkelstein exhaled deeply from his nose, having opened the door. The cold night air greeted him, as did the silence of the town.

“I’ll return soon,” he told Igor, and the door shut behind him, slow and heavy.

The moon hung in the sky, bathing the town in its soft light. It had been a few days since the Doctor was last outside; the air in the observatory was old, dusty. The lab was no better. The strong scent of chemicals and strange liquids from pickled limbs kept in jars were things Finkelstein was perfectly used to — yet a small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as the crisp, earthy scent of fallen leaves and cold, wet dirt mingled in the air.

#nightmare before christmas #tnbc #dr. finkelstein #long live the pumpkin queen #fanfic #fix it fic

[kalopses-sonderes]

Sonders YanTober Day 8

Hotel Horror Story

Yandere! Eclair x Reader, Earl Grey x Sonder

“Hey Earl Grey! I found this old book in one of the older hotel rooms..” Sonder says walking up to Earl Grey whose cleaning the front desk off.

“Whats it about?” He asked.

Sonder skims the back of the book, some words are crossed off. “Hm… Royalty, knights, a scholar, ooo and a hotel…. Seems like its about the old kingdom. Remember the one that was taken over by a mad man then it crumbled when he took control? Yeah, that one, the books called My Love for them, wanna read it together?”

“Im a little busy cleaning, do read it aloud for me Dear?”

“My pleasure” Sonder sits in one of the chairs behind the front desk and begins to read aloud.

Once upon a time.

Deep into the unknown forest. The sun does not shine, only the light of the moon. Where dragons roam.

Theres a hotel, hiding away the kingdoms queens first born. They was taken the day they turned eighteen, the day they were supposed to get married to prince of foreign kingdom. Never to be seen again.

Before all this, they were in love with their dear bodyguard, such a forbidden relationship. The knight was hurt beyond belief, a month into his grieving he told his parents he was off to go find you. They pleaded and begged for him to not go, not to risk his life. He continued to get his armor on and left on a journey that will risk him his life. Many knights have went and have never returned.

it was long and tedious journey. bugs would keep the knight from sleep. Monsters coming and going. His chest plate was holding on by a thread it seemed, it did him no good. It covered little to nothing but he still kept it on. His food supply began to dwindle but he never lost confidence or hope.

After days, maybe weeks of walking and fighting. He was just outside the hotel. He noticed no dragons in sight. The outside of the hotel was freezing to the touch. There were lights coming from all around the inside of the hotel.

He began to push the huge doors open, they creaked and fought against him. When he finally got it open enough to get in, he walked in to see an elegant interior. The walls had intricate designs, there were paintings hung all around. As the knight got closer looks, it was you. He walks further into the hotel, the stairs creaked and groaned as he walks up them. He goes to the second floor, the corridor has different wall designs but still theres paintings of you. His cheek started to heat up and heart began to skip beats as he proceeds further in the hotel, the you in the paintings seem to loose more articles of clothing.

the lights at the end seem to not be lit, but by the moon light shining through the windows he can see a door at the end of the hallway, Its made of some type of metal.

The dear knight reached the door, he got a closer a look and the door seems to be rusted in some areas. He tried the door nob, no use. He then tried to shove it open with his shoulder, no use. He fidgeted with the nails to see if he can completely take the door off.

He heard muffled sounds coming from behind the metal door, it came to a stop, he stopped, the door cracked open. From just the crack in door, it seemed to be a bed room. He walked in, you were tied up on the bed, gag covering your mouth. You were in a blue and vanilla outfit, sitting on top of an elegant king sized bed. More paintings filled the room, but it was you with another man.

He looked back over to you when he heard you muffle words. There were tears pooling in your eyes, you kept looking at something behind him and then back at him. He quickly figured out and turned around. There was a man in red stained clothes, sword in hand. But it was too late, the man in red stained clothes stabbed him in the heart, his broken chest plate not provided any protection. You began to scream, still, they were muffled.

The man walked over to you, he was also the man in the paintings, Eclair. His clothes has been stained red over the countless knights that came for you.

Eclair undid you bindings, he kept your gag on. You began to thrash and cry, trying to reach the dead man that layed across the floor. Eclair gripped your wrist tight, pulling you to his chest, blood began to smear on you and your clothes.

Your lover, your suppose-to-be knight in shining armor was you last hope at escaping this hell. So many knights came, all received a similar fate.

You reach for your gag and yank it off. You look Eclair in the eyes, ready to say something. You open your mouth and nothing comes out, tears continue to blur your vision. Eclair looked at you and smiled, not saying a word. He picks you up and places you in chair thats in the corner of the room, his painting chair. He places your dead lovers body next you, then gets a canvas and easel. He grabs his paint and brushes, stands in front of the canvas. Before he starts he says,

“This is a big celebration, your dear bodyguard has been killed, it deserves to be remembered through out history. Once your parents are dead, I’ll paint their heads on pitchforks and hang it for all to see. The entire world deserves to see how much work I put into loving you, but for now, things that happen in the hotel stays in the hotel.”

Sonder stops reading.

“Hm? Why’d you stop reading? I was actually interested..” Earl grey says.

Sonder and Earl Grey are now curled up together with a blanket on a sofa to the side of the hotel lobby. The lights are off besides a small lamp to their left.

“The pages are ripped out… I’ll go back to the room to see if I can find them.” Sonder got up and left for the room.

Some time passed, Earl Grey was getting inpatient. He decided to look around the hotel for Them. He first went to the second floor since those are the oldest rooms in the building. He started calling out their name, no answer. He saw a slightly cracked door at the end of the hallway and went to it.

Some more time passed. Sonder found the pages and went back to the lobby. “Sorry it took so long Earl grey, but I found some more pages and this weird painting of (name)… Earl Grey?” The blanket was on the ground and Earl Grey was not in sight.

Sonder decided to walk up the stair, they knew Earl Grey would probably go looking for them sooner or later. the stairs started squeaking. “Thats weird, that never happens…” They continue down the hallway. “Earl Grey! Earl Grey are you here?”

As Sonder continues, as she gets closer to the end of the hall, the last door slightly cracks open. “Earl Grey! Haha, if you’re trying to scare me you’ll have to do better.” The door fully opens, the silhouette of Earl Grey is seen in the dark. “Oh! Is that the room thats similar in the book? Awesome!” They cheerfully say.

Earl Grey suddenly drops once Sonders basically touching the door, a cookie with a big hat and blood stained clothes is shown. Earl grey was bloody and dead on the ground. They started walks closer to Sonder as they back up. “Wont you tell me where (name) is? You have my painting of them…Give them back..”

Event taglist:

@n0n-gh0stn4ry

#sonders yantober #yandere x reader #yandere cookie run #yandere cookie run ovenbreak #yandere cookie run kingdom #crk #crk x reader #cookie run ovenbreak #cookie run kingdom #cookie run #earl grey x sonder is totally canon #cookie run eclair cookie #eclair cookie #eclair x reader

[goldenmagnolias]

lost in the labyrinth of my mind

pairing: OC High Lord of Dusk x Archeron!Sister

summary: Reverie Archeron has always been different. Different in a good or bad way depends on who you asked. Now a High Fae, and with another war approaching she tries to be as helpful as she can around Velaris and with her baby nephew, but at a High Lord meeting, the countless dreams she has as a child and the feelings that are not quite hers suddenly make sense and things become something that she never could have seen coming.

masterpiece / ao3

CHAPTER XIII: THREADS OF GOLD LEADING ME HOME

Reverie was never good on saying goodbyes.

She remembers being a child and her father going on to his merchant trips, she disliked them very much.

Father wasn’t a saint, but between him and mother at least he didn’t lash out, surely he more than not ignored her existence. But between being belittled and ignored, the lesser bad was the second.

She was never good on goodbyes.

When she went first, being dunked into the Calderon she thought in some twisted way it had been a small mercy, not having to say goodbye to her sisters.

Back than she had been sure it would be the end, as soon as she hit those waters.

She was never good on goodbyes.

Even with all the almost ends, and possible deaths and things that had happened in the last years. She still vehemently dreaded them.

Her sisters were aware of such thing. So it wasn’t really a bad thing when Nesta had squeezed her arm before letting go, Elain kissed her cheeks, and Feyre’s eyes met hers in a silent conversation, a promise of protection no matter what.

She gave them a small smile and walked forward, nervously moving on her own, towards where her mate still stood.

He bid her sisters goodbye with a slight dip of her head, and as Reverie walked down the steps and heard her sisters walking back, she noticed that the court, however, nowhere in sight.

“They went ahead,” Ophiuchus’ commented, upon noticing her gaze searching around, offering his arm to her so she wouldn’t slip on the ice-covered stone steps.

Reverie gave him a small smile before resting her hand on his biceps taking some leverage to walk down the last few steps.

“How are we to go?” She asks him, she doesn’t quite know if he winnows.

“Winnowing, if you’re comfortable.”

“So all High Lords, do Winnow,” Reverie says quietly.

“I do believe it’s a perk intertwined with the position,” he says back, his lips tugging upwards slightly. “Shall we go?”

Reverie inclines her head in agreement tightening her hold on his arm, she feels his hand resting on hers, keeping her hold on him, and then everything melts and unravels like watercolors.

For a second all she can feel is his hand, closing her eyes upon the swirl of colors, light and darkness. As the world tips and she feels like free falling before her feet once again find the ground.

She slowly opened her eyes, trying to deal with the slight dizziness from winnowing. The room she was in was well lived in that’s for sure. Books lined shelves that ran from floor to ceiling, some books and papers over a desk. A large bed draped in dark silk sheets, with a canopy of a lighter fabric a contrast to the furs that rest by the end of the bed, that billowed in the slight wind that moved across the room due to the large opened floor to ceiling windows opposite to the wall that held the bookshelves and a fireplace. She realized then that not only the fireplace was sculpted into stone but so were the bookshelves. Dark marble, as the floor was wood. A dark one that looked like mahogany.

She realized she had been quietly staring around, and not saying anything at all, so she snapped her head back towards Ophiuchus, cheeks flushed and eyes wide, but only found him looking at her with a small smile.

“Come,” he says, waiting for her to move, before he starts to walk.

Leading her towards the balcony that the large windows lead to, as soon as they step into it she’s able to see a beautiful city, vast lands, and the sea.

Buildings of stone that look old as time, bustling noise of a city. Laugher of children, conversations of adults, music.

Her eyes widen in wonder as she takes everything in. For once grateful for the Fae senses that allowed her to take everything in with acute, meticulous detail.

As the breeze moves through her, tugging at her curls, ringing at her ears.

The wind sings promises of old, promises lost eons ago. Everything feels so alive.

She feels so alive.

The breeze that moves through her holds the scent of salt water, and oranges mix with the scent of the male beside her.

She feels at home. It feels oddly like a homecoming.

She feels at peace.

“Welcome to the Dusk Court, My Lady,” Ophiuchus whispers, eyes not leaving her face, he wants to fully engrave her reaction in his memory. “To Euryphaessa, to be more exact.”

…..

Taglist: @imma-too-many-fandoms @shadowcrowsworld

#acotar fanfiction #acotar #dusk court #archeron sisters

[thatwitchrevan]

KotOR 2 snippet of the first visit to Dantooine.

-

The Enclave halls were so dark. The damage was extensive, large parts of the complex completely caved in, and what remained was so deathly quiet that Meetra imagined she too was dead and this was her hell.

Nevertheless, she wanted to explore every hall that remained intact enough to walk through. Atton followed her, uncharacteristically silent. He was looking around, too, studying what remained of her home with solemn curiosity. She didn't know what she had expected - jokes, comfort maybe. He gave neither.

Meetra turned onto one of many familiar halls. It looked unrecognizable without the light pouring into it, without her fellow students milling through. She followed the path her feet had followed hundreds of times before until she reached her bedroom.

The wall was cracked, a wild vine crawling up through the tear, and the door was jammed open, but the room itself was there, intact. She stepped inside, glancing cautiously at the ceiling, but it seemed it would hold at least for a while.

The room felt smaller than she'd even remembered. Just four narrow walls with a bed and a desk and some hooks that robes would hang from, a little chest at the end of the bed. Meetra could tell, as similar as everything looked to her memory, that someone else had lived here after her. Maybe multiple students had come through in the years since she'd left. A few books were still on the desk, a small robe laying across the floor.

She wondered if they were dead.

Atton gave her a moment before entering the room behind her. "This yours?"

Meetra hugged herself, second guessing her choice to bring him down here. She hadn't wanted to be alone, but maybe that's what she needed. Maybe she needed to let herself feel. "Yeah."

Atton whistled lowly. "Fancy." He moved to the desk and looked at the books, turning them around to read the covers.

Meetra walked to the bed and laid down, ignoring the dust that she agitated. She laid in the middle and stared at her old ceiling. Closed her eyes and imagined for a moment that the world would just melt away, that she could go back a decade and be a kid again, and Revan's voice would wake her up.

"Mind if I join you?"

Meetra peeled her eyes open to see Atton standing beside the bed. He was smiling, but it wasn't a joke. His expression was soft. She should give him more credit. He may not know, but he understood.

She shuffled over to the side and patted the side of the mattress, disturbing more dust.

Atton flopped down beside her, lying with his side against hers. It was a small bed for two people, anyway. He looked at the ceiling with her as if he could see what she saw.

There was another stretch of silence. Meetra contemplated the absurdity of being a grown woman in her padawan bed with a non-Jedi, about how many taboos she'd piled on top of her actual sins, about what her younger self would've been thinking this time of day back then.

Atton threaded his fingers through hers. "This place... was it always this creepy, or is that a post Malak thing?"

Meetra laughed. She rolled onto her side to face him - it was a better view than the ceiling. "No, it was... The Enclave was always small. Insular. Some said suffocating. But it was a home. There were always people relaxing and laughing in the courtyard. Always someone to talk to when you needed them. I had my master, my friends.... I was never alone."

He just listened to her, his eyes clear and soft. When she paused, he tugged her hand to his face and brushed a kiss on her knuckles. "What else?"

Meetra sighed. "It wasn't just the Temple. It was the community. We would visit people in the village, help them with their work. They'd invite us to dinner. We went on missions in groups, a lot of the time. We helped each other on projects." Selena helped me on projects, she thought, and Annie dragged me out of my room to play when I was getting too caught in my head, but names stuck in her throat. She had lost the right to speak them.

"Are you okay?" Atton still held her hand, and with his free one he reached up and brushed a tear from her cheek. "I mean I know the answer's 'no,' but relatively? What do you need?"

Meetra stared at him. She didn't understand him at all. He was a self-professed loner, operating on self interest, and the Jedi freaked him out. But here he was in the depths of her shit with her. She really did need to give him more credit.

"Hey, Meetra. It's okay. What do you need?"

Meetra reached for him. "Hold me."

He pulled her close, folding her against his chest. His arms wrapped around her, letting her tangle their legs together, and he rubbed circles on her back.

For a while, they just laid there. Meetra closed her eyes and listened to Atton's breathing. It wasn't the same as turning back the past, but she knew that was a fantasy. What she could do was take comfort in someone who was alive and here and cared about her.

She pulled back enough to look at him. His eyes were warm and concerned - he bumped her forehead lightly with his. She kissed him. He reciprocated, more gentle and subdued than unusual.

Meetra shifted onto her back and he followed her, rolling over so he was laying on top of her. He kissed her deeper, his hand cupping her waist.

Meetra chased his warmth, one arm around his back and her other hand on his neck, leaning up into him. The moment was all too brief, though, as someone cleared their throat at the other end of the room. Atton jumped, rolling hastily off of Meetra, and Meetra pushed up to glare at Kreia, standing in the doorway.

The old hag had her arms crossed and was staring directly at them. She couldn't have been there more than a moment, but Meetra's skin crawled. "Stop making your masters cry, girl. There's work to do."

Meetra grabbed a pillow and threw it at her. "Get out of my room."

Kreia didn't need to see the projectile to easily side step it, looking deeply unimpressed. "You no longer have time to dally, child. This is no longer a home." She turned and walked away, which was infuriating because Meetra would very much like to beat her ass for that remark.

She got up, her hands shaking a little. She glanced at Atton, who was looking up at her with a wide smile. "Did you just throw a pillow at Kreia?"

Meetra shrugged. That's nothing, she thought, Revan hit her with a ball once. "Be more impressive if I'd hit her. Come on, she's right. We've wasted enough time. Let's go back to the compound."

Atton followed her but paused in the hall. "What about Revan's room?"

Meetra looked back at him. "Why? It's the same as mine."

He shrugged, but his expression told her it mattered somehow. She couldn't fathom why. But as she opened her mouth to say that she didn't care about Revan's room, she realized it was a lie. Of course she wanted to see it. Her feet followed the path just as easily as they had the last one, and they found a small room that was indeed just like hers, except this one was caved in.

"Of course," she muttered. It was as if Malak had come down here with a sledgehammer - the doorframe revealed only a wall of rubble. There was nothing left.

Atton's hand traced down the cracked stone. Meetra swallowed a lump in her throat and grabbed him. "Come on. I can show you something better than her room, if it's still intact."

She dragged him to the library.

#griffin writes #my fic #meetra surik #revan's room said: enough nostalgia for you #r: meant every word

[coffeedrgn87]

Sweetest Human Being Alive

Song by George Ezra from his 2022 album ‘Gold Rush Kid’. Listen here.

***

Somewhere out there is my girl boy Harry

My future flame, my save the date

My come-to-bed-now for heaven's sakes

And I just cannot wait to meet my girl boy Harry

***

Running out of the Manor attic, a tattered old journal clutched tightly to his chest, Scorpius bounded down the stairs and straight into his father’s study. Upon his less than gracious arrival—Scorpius nearly tripped on the rug that covered half of the study’s floor and fell against his father’s desk—he was met with a raised eyebrow and a grin that was a strange mixture between mocking and amused.

“One day, Scorpius, you’ll actually break a bone or five. Would it hurt all that much to slow down just a fraction?”

Scorpius rolled his eyes. He left the question unanswered. Instead, he placed the worn old leather-bound journal on his father’s desk.

“Can you unlock this? The pages won’t part no matter what I try. They’re stuck together.”

“Did you try stroking the spine? Most charmed books like that.”

Scorpius couldn’t work out whether his father was pulling his leg or actually being serious, but he decided that he didn’t care. He was far too obsessed by the locked journal to allocate brain power to anything else.

“Just, please.”

But Scorpius needn’t have asked. His father had already reached for his wand and after waving it over the book and casting several diagnostic charms, he eventually picked at the glowing threads of a page-sealing charm. A few tugs and the protective layer fell away. Scorpius snatched the journal and shouting a haphazard thanks over his shoulder, he practically ran out of the study. He was vaguely aware of his father calling out something, reprimanding him for his Gryffindorish ways, but Scorpius didn’t stop long enough to listen to the entire spiel.

***

We’ll dance by the light of the moon in the sky

We’ll sail on through forever for a while

You’ll tell your friends and I’ll tell mine

Well, goodness gracious, what a time

I’ve found the sweetest human being alive

***

The owl that knocked on the kitchen window of Harry’s cottage wasn’t one Harry had ever seen before. As such, he dithered for a while, unsure whether he wanted to accept a letter from an unknown sender. It was always a bit of a hit and miss. Even two and a half decades after the war some people still liked to share their opinions with him, opinions he genuinely didn’t care for.

In the end, his curiosity eventually got the better of him and approaching the counter, he leant over the sink and pushed the window open. The brown barn owl with its shiny black ear tufts hopped inside and turning its head it looked positively disgusted at the lemony peppery smell of Harry’s basil plant.

Harry chuckled.

He wandlessly summoned a bag of premium owl treats and offered his guest a palmful.

“Have some, friend, they’re especially good.”

The owl accepted and after swallowing several snacks, it extended its right leg. Harry carefully untied the letter, then gently petted the owl. It let him.

“Thanks, take another treat for the road, pretty.”

The owl hooted, snatched the treat. It hopped back outside and took flight.

Harry turned the plain white envelope over. The letter bore his name but no address and certainly no sender identification. Frowning, Harry cast a detection charm on the envelope but it came up clear. The sender, whoever they were, bore him no ill will. Harry hesitated for as long as it took to boil the kettle and steep some Earl Grey tea, then he sat down at the kitchen table, and pushing the sketchbook with his doodles aside, he went to open the letter.

***

Well, maybe we already met once before, oh, oh

Another time, late night

Same kids in a different life

And I cannot wait to meet my girl boy Harry

***

Grumbling under his breath, Draco pushed his fancy leather swivel chair back and got to his feet. He hesitated by the edge of the table, contemplating whether to take his cane, but after a short moment of deliberation, he decided against it.

Stretching a little, Draco wriggled his soaked toes, then set off down the hall to open the Manor’s front door. Upon doing so, his heart very nearly stopped and he instinctively crossed his arms over his chest.

“Potter?” he asked, raised eyebrow disappearing underneath his fringe (a terribly decision for which he still blamed Scorpius), which had fallen into his face, obscuring the better part of his forehead. “What are you doing here?”

Potter’s lopsided grin caused Draco’s stomach to flip. It was an involuntary reaction, something he was entirely helpless against, something he couldn’t stop.

“Hm, me, yes.” Potter nodded. “I got your letter, thought I’d stop by to deliver my response in person.”

Draco frowned.

“What letter, Potter? I didn’t send you any letter.”

Potter chuckled.

“Hm, likely story. Was your handwriting though, so unless you’ve a doppelgänger I don’t know of who also happens to have your handwriting, I think you did owl me.”

Uncrossing his arms, Draco raised two fingers to his temple and pressing against it, he rubbed slow circles, attempting to stave off a rapidly approaching headache.

“Potter, I’m in the middle of doing the estate taxes—”

The yellowed page Potter held up for him to see looked rather familiar and not bothering to finish his complaint, Draco squinted, trying to make out the words. When he did, he felt his cheeks heat and the tips of his ears burn. Apparently, even at forty-two he was not immune to embarrassment-induced flushes that coloured his pale complexion an unsightly reddish pink.

Reaching out, Draco tried to snatch the page from Potter but Potter was faster and moved it out of reach. Draco growled.

“Sweetest human being alive, eh, Draco?”

Draco pressed his lips tightly together.

“I was 14, okay!” he growled.

Potter grinned.

Draco refused to meet his gaze.

“I’ll kill Scorpius,” he said.

“Al would murder you, he loves your boy.”

Draco rolled his eyes.

“Evidently. Bloody Slytherin.”

Potter laughed.

Draco refused to acknowledge how the sound or Potter’s laughter made him feel. His stomach flipped and fluttered anyway, treacherously reacting and leaving him unable to maintain his cool nonchalance.

“Says the Slytherin. Anyways, I just wanted to ask how if you still mean those words.”

Draco blinked.

“Excuse me?”

Potter’s low chuckle made his knees shake.

“You heard me, Draco. Do you still feel that way?”

Draco’s gaze flickered back and forth between the parchment in Potter’s hand and Potter’s face. He considered his options, decided on denying everything and slamming the door in Potter’s race, then responded with a very simple yes.

Potter smiled and Draco’s heart stuttered helplessly.

“Thought so. Can I come in?”

Draco stepped to the side and before the door fell closed, his lips were on Potter’s and his hands in Potter’s messy mop of hair and he forgot everything around him that wasn’t Potter’s lips, Potter’s hair, Potter’s arms circling his waist, Potter’s body so close, so goddamn close. Yes, sweetest human, yes, come to bed now for heaven’s sake, come and stay and stay and stay.

The End.

#drarry #draco / harry #draco malfoy and harry potter #draco and harry #draco x harry #Harry / Draco #Harry potter and Draco Malfoy #harry and draco #harry x draco #song fic #impromptu #evening writing #coffeedragon writes #coffeedragon should be sleeping #it’s just fluff #so much fluff #getting together #idiots in love

[out-of-control]

STEPS

words: 1157

warnings: none

summary: Jim’s been pretty bored around the apartment.

“I think I’m going fucking crazy,” Jim says casually, lounged on the bed, not even looking up from his clearly exciting issue of National Geographic: one he pulled from a pile of magazines that he scrounged up at the used book store down the road. “Like, a new brand of crazy. For me.”

Jax is sitting at his desk, slouched over and soldering away at something that he’s rambled on and on about countless times that still goes way over Jim’s head. Jax just has a knack for this stuff that Jim doesn’t. He's kind of glad, though. Jim likes just listening to him talk about it. Jax straightens a little, pivots his shoulder to look at Jim. “What’s up?”

“I don’t know, like,” he makes a face and closes his magazine. “What the fuck are people supposed to do all day?”

“Most people have fucking jobs,” Jax snorts. “Or hobbies.”

“Yeah, well,” Jim wrinkles his nose, and rolls over onto his back. “I don’t think that even I could just play bass for 12 hours a day.”

Jax puts the soldering iron back into the holder and scoots his chair around to regard Jim. “You know, uh. I bet I could get you some kind of gig at the Pross,” he says, scratching the back of his neck. "We've been needing a second bartender pretty bad since Bianca quit."

Jim tilts his head to look up at Jax, brows knitting together. “You sure about that?” he asks cautiously. Anna hasn’t exactly been Jim’s biggest fan. She came over once to hang out with Jax, a month or so after he moved in, and an immediate rude comment about Jim getting guys to break their hands right to Jim's face turned into a pretty big fight between her and Jax. She's cooled it on biting Jim’s head off since Jax explained to her Jim was trying to get clean, but she still clearly doesn’t like him.

“Well, I don't have strings to pull anywhere else,” Jax says with a snort. “If you apply to Dunkin’ you’re on your own.” He slides off the chair onto the floor, and kneels at the edge of the bed, face hanging upside-down over Jim’s. “But for real. I think you’d fit in there.” Then he leans down, kisses Jim’s forehead. “If you’re worried about Anna, I’ll eat her alive.”

He couldn’t exactly apply to Dunkin’ if he wanted to, which he doesn’t. Jim huffs a laugh. “You have a point,” he mumbles. “Questionably run, damp, poorly-lit, loud,” he counts on his fingers.

“Like all the best,” Jax says with a grin, and kisses Jim on the mouth, horizontal Spider-Man style. Pulling back, he says, “Seriously, though. You wanna be a working girl?”

Jim reaches his arms up, knitting his fingers together behind Jax’s neck, trapping him there. “Well, what the fuck else am I gonna do? Sit here bored out of my mind? ‘Least I could pay rent, or like, save up for a new car or something.” Jim got rid of the Tercel around a month ago; it hurt like hell to say goodbye, but it’s been better for him in the long run. All the bad memories built up around it over the years were far outweighing the good ones, and it was bringing him down a lot more than he’d realized every time he saw it. Luckily, he has a roof over his head, and a boyfriend to hold his hand through the hard days. Some days, he even feels like the luckiest guy in the world.

“If I had the funds, I’d make you my gigolo in a heartbeat,” Jax says seriously. “But I can settle for a workplace affair instead.”

“We could make Tom’s life a fucking nightmare,” Jim grins.

Jax laughs. “Try to lisp when he’s around. It’s a great deterrent.” He kisses Jim again, this time for a bit longer. “As for what the fuck else you could do,” he murmurs, a hairs breadth away from Jim’s lips. “Got some ideas.” And he climbs onto the bed. 

“Is that so?” Jim chimes, raising an eyebrow and propping his head up on his elbow, rolling onto his side to face Jax. “I am a big fan of your ideas.”

“Mm,” Jax says sagely, though he can’t fight back a smile. Knelt on top of the covers, he dips down and kisses Jim, slow and languid, one hand threaded through Jim’s hair. “They’re pretty good ideas,” he continues, between kisses, “If I do say so myself.”

Jim hums thoughtfully, carefully sitting upright as they kiss, runs a hand up Jax's chest. Then Jim shoves him down against the mattress, leans in close, says into Jax’s ear in a low voice, "Prove it."

Jax immediately wraps his legs around Jim’s back, crossing his ankles. “Yeah, sure. I guess I can give you a hands-on demonstration,” he says, curling his fingers in the hem of Jim’s shirt. “On one condition.”

“And what would that be,” Jim murmurs, mid-way through kissing a line down to Jax’s chest.

Jax grins. “You gotta promise me you’re gonna ace that job interview, baby.”

Jim pauses, pulls back, blinks at him. “I’ve never had a job interview in my fucking life.”

Jax laughs aloud, genuine and bright and happy. “I’ll build you an earpiece, feed you all the right answers,” he says, and wraps a hand around Jim’s bicep, squeezing encouragingly. “No, it’ll be dead easy. They aren’t picky. They hired me.” 

Jim laughs too, gives Jax another slow kiss, nips at Jax’s bottom lip. “I’ll study hard, like a good boy. They can’t say no to me, I’m too cute.” Then he lowers his mouth to Jax's throat.

“Hey, hey,” Jax gasps, as his neck is kissed. “Hey. How would you say you fare in high-stress environments?”

“I think I’m alright,” Jim breathes, leaning back a little to slip his shirt off. “But maybe you should demonstrate how you do. I wanna get it right, baby.”

Jax immediately gets his hands on Jim’s tattoos, with Jim gladly sitting up further to let him, luxuriating in his touch. Jax traces the bleeding hearts first, then the SLUT, and finally, the LOVERBOY. “You know, confidence is key. They’ll love you.” He looks up, hands resting on Jim’s hips. “I know I do.”

A wide grin spreads across Jim’s face, sharp little teeth poking out over his lip. “Aw, shucks. You mean that?” he teases.

“But not conceited,” Jax murmurs. “He’s the perfect employee.”

“I’d better get the fuck to work then, huh?” Jim muses, running a hand up one of Jax’s thighs.

Jax inhales deeply. He seems unable to keep up the game any longer, and simply says, “Please.”

Jim chuckles, self-satisfied, face hot. "Love you too," he says, once the act is over, helping Jax get his shirt off. Jim knows he knows already, but it feels nice just to say it anyways.

—

#words

[catboii]

╔ 🎧 Grey space - Cavetown

YT - Official / Lyric

← Part 2 - Part 3 - Part 4 → Full Thread

“Right, because your Deity gave you the power to read minds, huh?” The unassuming man probably shouldn’t poke a sleeping bear, there’s two of them, and one of him, in a dimly lit basement under a ‘church’ that’s a front for a supposed murder-cult.

And he can’t get the image of the Sphinx out of his mind. Was that all a hallucination? 

But, the Leader doesn’t reply yet. His body seems to be- melting? No, he’s just- changing shape… After a moment, his arms and legs have stretched the material of his suit, which appears to be made of something a lot thicker and stretchier than at first glance. His skin is now a dark, rich red shade, and it seems that all light that hits it just dissipates. Two sets of horns sprout from his head, a pair like ram's horns curling down beside his face, and a pair that swoop upwards and back, and as they grow, sharp points grow from them. “The Deity… is here.” He gestures to himself grandly. 

The other man recognises the form that the Leader is taking as the one depicted on posters around the Sarkite Church, the one written about in the books they were all handed, which, admittedly, he had only skimmed the first twenty or so pages of. He, for the second time tonight, drops to his knees, but this time he prostrates himself, internally berating himself for being so flippant and rude to the being that he’s been praying to this whole time? “I didn’t… I’m so…”

“Yes. I know.” There is the faintest snarl in his voice now, and when the man looks back up, the creature in front of him has large lower fangs that jut out over his top lip. He’s muscular, but from what he can see of his skin under the suit and shirt, it looks as though there are armoured plates on his body. His arms are crossed now, showing that his fingers had turned to long clawed talons. Quickly, his companion scampers over to him from behind the man on the floor, where he couldn’t see that they too had shifted shapes, apparently a lot faster than their Leader, as they seemed to now be in a stable, final form, dark furred like a panther stood on its hind legs, curled; spurred horns on their own head, and a pair of closed wings like a bat, each set of claws and the horns all a glowing, bright red. They step behind their Leader and fiddle with the back of his suit, seemingly undoing something, as, once they’re done and they step back, a pair of small wings unfurl slowly. Or, perhaps they’re still growing. Once they stop growing they’re much larger than those of their companion, splayed out and commanding, and their overall sizes and builds are at dramatic contrast, as if they’re completely different species of… whatever they are. “Now. Would you like to hear my terms?” 

The man moves to stand, then falters, but the Leader nods to him and gestures him upward. So he stands, again his knees ache, but this time his back and arms hurt too. He can’t bring himself to care though, the adrenaline running through him is incredible and he hasn’t felt anything like it in such a long time… “Yes! Of course. Anything you wish.” 

The creature shakes its head slowly, almost more of a sway from side to side, with the large, presumably heavy, horns. “You have to want it, or it will not work. Although I do not see why anyone would turn down the chance to become… More.” He doesn’t elaborate on what he means, but from the quick glances at the pages of the books from the church, there are a lot of instructions and possible results. They were all marked as fictional, but it’s explained in the meetings that that’s just to keep it from falling onto the wrong desk, and giving them away to the authorities. They need to operate under the radar, otherwise… well, there would be no one to worship, as the Leader had previously put it, ominously. 

“I’ll do whatever it takes to be better, to be more than-” he looks down at himself, shabbily dressed and now dust covering his clothes. “Than this.” 

“Good.” The creature smiles, but it doesn’t seem friendly. “We noticed you wrote some interesting things in your journal.” 

“In my- journal? How do you know about that?” The Leader looks over at his companion, who’s now back at his side and looks more comfortable in this form. Although its eyes are fully red with no pupil, so it’s hard to tell where it’s looking, and it’s so dark in the room that its expression can’t be read. “We have our ways. So, you would sacrifice her for us?” 

Any doubt that he was just bluffing were blown away in an instant, and he nodded before he could even think about what he was agreeing to. “She ruined me. She- I’m sorry.” 

“No. Please continue. Anger is fuel for hatred, and hatred feeds intent.” 

The words are lost on him, but he takes the invitation to metaphorically spew his hatred all over the concrete floor. “She took me for a ride. Over twenty years we were married. And she was seeing that… that piece of shit lawyer for the last five at least!” 

The Leader’s companion seems to shrink back, as he steps forward. "This- lawyer. Did he know? That she was married?” 

The man almost steps back in surprise, but holds firm, nodding vehemently. “Yeah. I bet they were laughing about it. She would tell me that she had car trouble, or that she needed money to help her elderly mother. But I bet she was spending it on *him*.” 

“Him too, then?” 

There’s no other context, and the man is at a loss. “Him too, what?” 

With a tilt of his head, the Leader smiles again. Closer up it’s clear that his lower fangs are indeed very sharp. “Would you give him to us?” 

After a moment of working out what that meant, the man’s face drops. “Oh… Well. I don’t-”

“Are they still together? Even now?” he interrupts. The man doesn’t answer, but he nods. “Then they’re still laughing at you, and you let them?” He turns back to his companion slightly, but not enough that the man can’t still see his face. “Perhaps we have the wrong one.” 

“No! I’ll do it. I’ll kill them both.” He swallows. What was he saying? Would he really murder someone because some almost-stranger in a creepy basement asked him to?... Did he really have anything else to live for aside from this? 

With another wide unfriendly grin, the Leader turns back to him, raising his hand to almost touch the other’s forehead. “You do not need to kill them yet. We will help you. But you must bring them to us. One at a time, of course. Can you *say* that? Can you tell me, ‘yes master, I will bring you…’ whatever their names are.” He presses the palm of his large clawed hand to the man’s forehead, and it seems to glow.

Before the man can respond though, he’s thrust into a dream-like state.

He’s alone, he thinks, in his childhood home. As he runs from room to room, trying to work out what's going on, he notices the windows are all black. Not nighttime black, but like they've been covered from outside. One window, however, is not. The one on his landing. He runs to it, leaning out to see what’s out there.

It is daytime. There is a mountain, but it seems so far away. As he leans closer to see it better, he falls from the window, but he doesn’t hit the ground. He seems to travel toward the mound as if flying, but it’s not at all enjoyable or freeing, it makes him feel sick as his surroundings fly past him much, much too fast.

As he gets closer, the mountain forms into a volcano. There’s an overwhelming rumble from the ground, and everything is shaking. Suddenly there’s a loud crack as the volcano begins to erupt, but it’s not a quick spurt like it is in a cartoon, or an action movie. It’s agonisingly slow, small spits of liquid jumping over the rim before anything really happens. When it does though, it’s not the bright fractured lava he’s seen on nature documentaries, it’s a dark red liquid that he immediately just somehow knows, is blood, and it pours down the sides of the volcano as if an artery had been slashed. As it reaches the bottom, it starts to pool.

After what feels like five minutes of him being transfixed by this red liquid, he turns to look back where he came from. But he doesn’t see what he expected. There is no childhood home, nestled in the street he remembers. There is a small town. Not one he thinks he recognises from real life, but maybe he’s seen it on TV before? He recognises it… somehow.

He realises with a start, that the blood had started flooding the houses, and it was already perhaps 2 feet deep. He can hear screaming now, and he tries to move. He feels the same sickly whooshing motion as he’s brought closer, much too close much too fast. He’s right in the middle now, and hovering above the blood in front of a little cottage. From the door a woman runs, shouting back to someone inside. It’s his ex-wife. He’s suddenly overcome with rage, and tries to move forward, but he’s fixed in place. He’s not even sure he has a body, if he’s even really here. From the house, follows a man. He doesn’t need to look long before he recognises him, and he starts to weep. 

He comes to a realisation, here, in this moment. Somehow, this flood will kill them. And he's alright with that. Moreover, he's happy! And if everyone else in this town has to perish with them, then so be it. They brought this upon themselves, and everyone here. Not him. He had no hand in this, he is just an unwilling witness...

Right?

Above them all, unbeknownst to the man, this is all being broadcast to two others. The two from the room, who flap their wings to stay high up in the air. The vision is not their doing, it is, in some ways, the man’s deepest desires given flesh and brought before him. And, before them. 

With a shiver, one of the beings whispers, “Ugh, what a nightmare. I hate water”.

“It is not water, Tiiamos, it is blood.” 

“Blood’s just water with…” a shrug, “people pulp.” 

The larger being chuckles, loudly. The man cannot hear them no matter how loud they are. They are not really there. None of them are. They are still in the room. “You have such a way with words, my sweet.” 

With a purr, his companion flaps its wings hard a few times, to get closer to him. “Nah. Words just have a way with me.” 

#posted OOC. #Drabble. #TB:S #Story: Kreed #meta misgendering;; #murder imp- #religion mockery;; #cultism;; #ask to tag. #readmore.

[immortalsins]

hate sewing so much ive spent all day on one thing

#ramblings #i love it as in i'm good-ish at it and i enjoy the end result #there's nothing like being proud of something physical you made with your own hands #and when it's also art .. !! unparalleled #but. the stress. the autism. #my desk is covered in thread and my floor is covered in books that i had to move from the desk #can't even put them on the bed because guess who's there #my cat #taking up a whole half #and another half #under the covers #is my laptop #which froze immediately after i opened youtube for the first time in months #accidentally clicked a video by danandphilgames #(i havent watched them since i was 14. youtube doesnt know what to recommend me) #realised the volume was up #tried to pause it quickly #laptop freezes #is stuck playing the same two seconds of one of them saying smth about walls #and i can't turn the volume down #so it's being muffled under a pillow #they've been at it for hours about walls #you can just about hear it when i turn the sewing machine off #it's a bit creepy

[cassandraclare]

The Whispering Room: James’ POV

Here it is finally — James’ POV of the Whispering Room scene from Chain of Gold. I wanted to wait until Chain of Iron was released to give more people a chance to read the book, and also because what we learn in COI does inform the scene. I hope you enjoy!

*art by Cassandra Jean

Cortana wove with her words, underlining each one with steel. She turned as her sword turned, and her body curved and moved like water or fire, like a river under an infinity of stars. It was beautiful—she was beautiful, but it was not a distant beauty. It was a beauty that lived and breathed and reached out with its hands to crush James’s chest and make him breathless. — Chain of Gold

James had felt a strange emotion when Daisy first took the stage at the Hell Ruelle. It was a mix of several feelings...

worry on her behalf, annoyance at Kellington, curiosity, and admiration for her bravery and poise. It was unfair of these Bohemians to force her to caper for them, and, he thought, a bit insulting to Shadowhunters in general. He supposed that Matthew had given them a rather unusual view of what the Nephilim were like in such circumstances.

And then she had begun to dance. And suddenly she was not Daisy, his old friend. She was Cordelia, whose name meant heart, whose every gesture was fire. Every earthly worry he’d had had been swept out of his mind. He was conscious only of Cordelia, whirling back and forth across the small stage. Cortana danced around her, shedding light like embers. The dull glow of the lamps illuminated her body, describing her every movement, her every curve as she danced. Her scarlet hair whipped around her in time to the music, and the golden light of the lamps in the Ruelle slipped across her skin, slow and hot, like beads of honey. The cadences of her voice, rising and falling, seemed to weave a cage of silken thread about her audience, and James was no exception.

Later, James would think it was odd that he had not compared her to Grace. Grace had never entered his mind at all. Cordelia danced, and by the end of her performance, James’s entire life had been disassembled and put back together in a new and different shape. He was conscious of Matthew, beside him, also staring as the crowd cheered, his sharp cheekbones flushed. He looked dazed; James couldn’t blame him.

Cordelia descended the stage and slipped through the crowd to come back to them, blushing at the looks and murmured comments she was drawing from the audience now. James could see the desire in the eyes that followed her. Everyone wanted her. He felt a dull fury. They had no right. They did not know Cordelia. She was more than just that dance.

When she reached them she let out a long breath of relief and smiled. She glowed with the exercise of dancing. Sweat beaded along her collarbones, shimmered between her breasts. Her eyes were bright as Cortana’s blade, strapped to her back.

“Bloody hell,” Matthew exclaimed.  “What was that?”

A look of uncertainty crossed Cordelia’s face. James said, “It was a fairy tale, Math,” and Matthew nodded. His dark green eyes searched Cordelia’s face, as if looking for the key to a locked room he had only just discovered.

Cordelia looked uncertain. James couldn’t bear that. She’d been magnificent; she should know it. But he couldn’t say that, of course. It would only make her self-conscious.

“Well done, Cordelia,” James said instead; when he unfolded his arms; his wrist hurt and he wondered if he’d been clenching his hands.

Cordelia. He hadn’t called her Daisy, and she looked a little surprised. It seemed inappropriate, somehow. Daisy was Lucie’s friend, the Merry Thieves’ compatriot; he found it a smaller name than she deserved. Cordelia, though—she had been a queen, hadn’t she? Queen Cordelia, daughter of Leir, ruler of Britain before the Romans had ever landed on those shores. Like Boadicea, a legendary warrior queen. A blazing white fire behind fathomless black eyes.

“Anna has disappeared with Hypatia,” James said, noting the empty settee, “so I would call your distraction a success.”

Cordelia’s lips twitched into a smile. “How long does a seduction usually last?”

“Depends if you do it properly,” Matthew said, with a wink. James felt it as a spark of relief, a bit of lightness amid the feeling that something heavy was sitting on his chest.

“Well, I hope for Hypatia’s sake Anna does it properly,” James said. He registered, with the reflexes of a parabatai, that Matthew had gone still next to him, and wondered what was wrong. “Yet for our sake, I hope she hurries it up.”

All hint of Matthew’s jocular tone from before was gone. “Both of you,” he said urgently. “Listen.”

Did he mean all the muttering about Shadowhunters? Was he only noticing it now? It had followed them since they came into the place. But when James followed Matthew’s gaze, he found Kellington staring with an expression of vexation, not at them but at the door. All questions were answered as through the door came Charles Fairchild, looking around him with a haughty expression. He looked like was about to raid the place; so much for whatever work Matthew and Anna had done for Downworlder-Shadowhunter relations here.

Matthew narrowed his eyes. “Charles,” he sighed. “By the Angel, what is he doing here?”

Charles was, James thought, probably looking for them. He was making his way through the crowd and gazing around him. Luckily for them, the crowd was not interested in letting him through, and he was moving very slowly.

“We should go,” James said. “But we can’t leave Anna.”

In one way, at least, Charles’s arrival was helpful; it threw a bucket of cold water on the roiling heat that had gripped James’s heart since Cordelia had begun her dance. Back to the matter at hand: a demon, a Pyxis, a plan.

“You two run and hide yourselves,” Matthew said, still keeping his eyes on his brother. “Charles will go off his head if he sees you here.”

“But what about you?” said Cordelia.

Matthew shrugged, but James could see the tension in his jaw and his shoulders. “He’s used to this kind of thing from me. I’ll deal with Charles.”

Not for the first time, James wished that his parabatai wasn’t in such a hurry to sacrifice his own reputation. He exchanged a long look with Matthew, but Matthew was sure, and determined, and his desire to rush into his own humiliation was an issue that would have to wait. Nodding, he turned and caught Cordelia’s hand with his own. “This way,” he said, and she nodded back in acknowledgement. As he pulled them into the crowd he heard Matthew’s voice calling, “Charles!” in a hearty tone of pleasant, if entirely false, welcome.

James didn’t know his way around the place, and the crowd made orientating himself even more difficult, but after some trial and error he and Cordelia managed to get behind Kellington and slip into a corridor leading away. This wasn’t safe in itself, since from the main chamber one would have a clear view down the entire corridor. In fact, they were temporarily more exposed than before, and James’s hope for the hallway to take a quick turn or to contain large statuary to hide behind was quickly dashed. He continued to hold onto Cordelia’s hand, not that he needed to; she seemed to know her way better than he did.

Partway down the corridor, James caught sight of an open door — its silver plaque labeling it the entrance to THE WHISPERING ROOM. Swiftly he drew Cordelia inside, out of sight. He slammed the door behind them, causing a loud noise, but he thought it couldn’t possibly be heard over the crowd in the main chamber. Only then did he release Cordelia’s hand and take stock of their surroundings.

The room was dimly lit, but not cold: a scented fire burned in the grate, filling the space with the smell of sandalwood and roses. It was a study, he guessed, based on the gigantic walnut desk against the wall and the bookshelves opposite, but it was too richly decorated to be solely a place for studious contemplation. Phoenix feathers and dragon scales danced across the gilded wallpaper; there were no windows, but the walls were hung with patterned tapestries, the floor covered with a rug so thick James felt his boots sink into it as he moved further into the room.

Cordelia had leaned her back against the wall next to the door. Her eyes were closed and she was taking deep, full breaths, calming herself down. Cortana gleamed gold over her shoulder; the firelight gleamed a deeper gold on her skin, which seemed to take and hold its warmth. James curled his fingers in against his palm.

He wanted to touch her. He half-turned away, pretending to study the books on the wall. Any other time, he would have been fascinated by the titles. Now they seemed distant, neither immediate nor imporant. He could have sworn he heard his own heart hammering. He said, “Where did you learn to dance like that?” surprising himself with the roughness of his own voice.

His gaze snapped back to Cordelia as she opened her eyes and gave a little shrug. There was something magical about the dress she wore: it followed the shape of her own body rather than the shape of corsetry or whalebone petticoats. It slid softly against her skin as she moved, just as her dark red hair tickled the bare skin of her throat, her shoulders. “I had a dance instructor in Paris. My mother believed that learning to dance aided in learning grace in battle.”

The word grace pierced James like an icicle. He could not quite picture Grace at the moment, it was true; could not quite envision her face. He had given Grace his heart — that was an immutable fact, something he knew as he knew that two plus two equaled four. But he had to admit that at the moment his heart did not feel given. It felt like a thrumming machine inside his chest, pumping blood and heat.

“That dance,” Cordelia added with a quirk of her soft mouth that struck James like a blow to the stomach, “was forbidden to be taught to unmarried ladies. But my dance instructor did not care.”

“Well,” James said, keeping his voice steady with practiced control, “thank the Angel you were there. Matthew and I could certainly not have pulled off that dance on our own.”

Cordelia turned away from him, the smile still on her face, as though she were keeping it secret from him. She trailed her hand along the top of Hypatia’s desk. At one end was a stack of papers held down by a large copper bowl of fruit, and she brought her hand up to trace its rim.

James may have been distracted beyond the capacity for distraction he’d known before, but he was still a Shadowhunter. “Be careful,” he said warningly. “I suspect that is faerie fruit. It has no effect on warlocks—no magical effect, at least. But on humans…”

Cordelia pulled her hand back as though stung. “Surely it does not harm you if you do not eat it.”

“Oh, it does not. But I have met those who have tasted it. The say the more you have of it, the more you want, and the more you ache when you can…have no more.”

Cordelia was looking at him now, and though it took a great summoning of courage, he returned her gaze. In her dark eyes the silver and blue flames of the fireplace danced. James could not catch his breath. He had never felt this before, this breathlessness. It was like pain, but with a sweet, sharp edge. Like licking honey from a knife. He said, in a low voice, “And yet. I have always thought…is not knowing what it tastes like just another form of torture? The torture of wondering?”

The door shook on his hinges suddenly, making a clatter that made both he and Cordelia jerk their heads around to look at it. The knob was starting to turn.

Cordelia paled. “We’re not meant to be in here —“

James’s world closed down to just this: Cordelia was here, she was with him, and she looked frightened. He would do anything to stop that look on her face. He caught her in his arms, and the relief was incredible — he had not realized how much he wanted to be touching her until he was. Until he was holding her, and her strength and warmth and softness were all pressed against him, and her face was so beautiful it hurt, and her lips were parted in surprise and without another thought he kissed them.

He could feel her sharp intake of breath with his hands, clasped together at her lower back. She gasped, but did not draw back, or away — he thought he would have died if she had — she leaned into him, her full lips opening under his. She was kissing him back. He tasted honey, smelled jasmine and smoke. His hand slid up her warm cheek and into the soft fall of her hair.

Time stopped.

Cordelia’s arms were around his neck. Her lush mouth opened a little against his, and the kiss deepened. He moved his hand to the back of her neck to bring her closer. Her teeth grazed his lower lip, and he couldn’t help it; he moaned, and felt her tremble against him.

Very far away, a voice chuckled and the door closed with a soft click. This whole thing had been intended as a ruse, he knew, for the benefit of whomever was trying to get into the Whispering Room. Probably some Ruelle attendees, Downworlders most likely, who had snuck off for a rendez-vous.

Ruse accomplished, then. With intense regret, James drew back from Cordelia. Her hand, warm and soft and wonderful, was against his neck; her fingers stroked his pale white scar. Her eyes were fixed at the level of his shoulder. He could hear himself say her name — Daisy, my Daisy — instead of responding, she whispered, “I think more people are coming.”

He knew it wasn’t true. He didn’t care. He knew what she was saying: that she was asking and giving permission at once. All James’ life, he had struggled for control: control over his sudden falls into shadow, control over the dark world he could see, that was invisible to everyone else. He had worked and fought and trained for control every day, and for the first time in as long as he could remember it deserted him.

The walls he had put up burned to the ground in an instant as he caught Cordelia to him. He groaned against her mouth, his hands slipping over the silk of her dress, the hot satin of her skin. He undid the strap that held Cortana, got rid of it somehow — carefully, he hoped — and let himself fall back into delirium.

He did not ask himself why he had never felt desire like this before. He could not. He was lost in the feel of her, the incline of her waist, the flare of her hips, the rise and fall of her chest as she gasped. They were kissing wildly, uncontrolled; they fetched up against the desk, Cordelia’s back to it.

Her body bent backward in an impossible arch, her hands going behind her to brace herself. Her eyes half-closed, her head fell back, revealing the bare column of her throat. He pressed his lips there, eliciting a gasp of surprised pleasure.

His hands trailed up the sleek material of her dress — he could feel the heat of her skin through it — from her waist to the neckline of her gown. His palms followed her curves until the tips of his fingers were pressing into the bare bronze skin just above the neckline of her dress. She was sleek and soft and hot all at the same time, like nothing else he’d ever touched. He heard her whimper; she was saying his name, and his heart beat in time with her words: James, James, Jamie please.

The please undid him; shrugging off his frock coat, he caught hold of her around the waist, lifting her until she was perched on the edge of the desk. The material of her dress bunched around her knees, her thighs, as she took hold of his shirt by the starched front and kissed him. His mouth drove against hers, hot and demanding, even as he clambered onto the desk after her. She reached up her arms for him and he sank down on top of her, bracing his weight with a hand above her head.

He paused, just for a moment, looking down at her. Her scarlet hair fanned out across the desk, her eyes glazed, her full lips red from kissing. He was cradled by her body, her legs on either side of his hips, her skirt rucked up nearly to her waist. She wrapped her long, bare legs around him and he shuddered. What was in him, what he wanted, was inchoate but insistant, a force he’d never known. A yearning like hot wires in his blood, the pain-pleasurable ache of unbearable wanting that drove him to kiss her again, kiss her harder. She tangled her hands in his hair, pulling at it as he kissed her breasts, flicking his tongue over the sensitive skin until she gave a low scream and clutched at him with desperate hands.

He sank down against her and kissed her, hot and deep and hard. She arched into the kiss, her breath coming in gasps. He felt her through the thinner material of his shirt: the heat of her, the swell of her breasts against his chest, her hands smoothing over his chest, his sides.

His hands aching to touch her in kind, to find out what she liked, what made her gasp, and do it again and again . . . Nothing had ever felt like this, nothing. He’d known desire before; so he remembered, so he had believed. It turned out he had stepped into a puddle and thought it was the sea. As Cordelia moved in his arms, as her lips, he realized there was a depth to desire he hadn’t even guessed at: that it was more than just desperation, but joy and need and wanting and being wanted back. It was a fever dream, his hands sliding up under the heavy satin of her skirts, the salt-sweet taste of her skin, the soft sounds of her pleasure as she urged him closer, urged him onward, the desk seeming to spin beneath them.

He heard, as if at a great distance, the sound of the door opening. He lifted his head, saw the slim fair-hared figure in the doorway. Ice washed through his veins. Cordelia stiffened, began to scramble to sit up. No, he thought, but he couldn’t stop her, couldn’t blame her. It — whatever it had been — was over.

He slid off the desk. Already the fever was vanishing, that feeling —the glorious freedom from the burden of his own will — receding. Grasping at his control, he drew it around himself,  reaching for his coat, turning to calmly meet the gaze of his parabatai.

“James?” Matthew said.

#the whispering room #james herondale #cordelia carstairs #the last hours #cassandra clare #cassandra jean #chain of gold

[bangchanswolfpelt]

Kinktober Day 10: Swimmin' in a Mirror

oh shit, I just saw the prompts and 10º - Clones/Selfcest with soobin, would be the dream, getting fucked by soobin and his clone is dijzfkDJNj< my mind went straight into thinking about all of the cum oooooof :')

cw: magical school au >:D ; Soobin x 2; reader - unspecified pronouns/gender; reader has a vulva; no barrier protection used; clones; threesome; cunnilingus; vaginal fingering; PIV intercourse; selfcest; fellatio; cumplay - cum eating, swallowing, facials, reader makes Soobin snowball himself >:] ; reader is a bit of tsundere; i confused myself writing two people who are actually one person, and reader is just as confused, i’m so sorry

wordcount: 2,501 words

not a Harry Potter au 🙃 also, writing a threesome where two people are actually one person was a wild fuckin ride, i'm still not sure how much this makes sense 🥲

tagging: @jensdior, @gyulfriend (not quite pervy/dommy Soobs, but i think this might still be up your alley?)

“I need your help.”

When you open your door, Soobin is the last person you expect to see on the other side. He’s hunched over, as if he’s trying to make himself smaller, eyes darting nervously down the hall. You consider shutting the door in his face, but your curiosity gets the better of you and you open the door further, just enough to let him in… and to let him in again?

“How did you fuck up this badly?”

He flinches at your language, ears red as he looks at the floor as though he wishes it would swallow him up. Soobin… Two? is similarly avoiding your gaze, back pressed to the door like he’s ready to bolt at any moment.

“I was working on my final project, and it… didn’t exactly go the way I thought it would.” He’s being cagey, but so much of your irritation melts away when he mentions his project. You can’t blame him; you’d be just as awkward if your own had gone wrong and you had to ask someone else for help.

“Right, well. Don’t just stand around, it’s weird.” They both wince at your words, looking around for somewhere to sit; they’re both about to sit on the floor when you roll your eyes and motion towards your bed. “How… long do you need—to be here?”

“I’m not sure.” He looks at himself questioningly, before looking back to you with twin shrugs. “It should pass with time, I just don’t know how long it will take.”

“Right…” You glance over to your desk, back to him, then sigh. It makes you twitchy, pulling your own project out while Soobin is here, but the sooner you can get him out of your room, the happier you both (all?) will be. You lift the darkened bell jar off your desk to expose intricate, moving parts of brass and light, thrumming with magic; it’s difficult to ignore the weight of his gaze as you shift the gleaming metal, but you manage, looping threads of energy around your fingers to tug this way and that until you’re satisfied.

“Is that…”

“It effects the way time passes here,” you say curtly, covering it with a pointed thunk.

It’ll be fine. It’s not as if you’ve shown him your notes, and whatever his project is, the focus of it clearly doesn’t have much to do with your own. It’ll be fine.

“Thank you for showing me.” It’s harder to ignore him when you’re making your way back to your bed, but you studiously avoid his warm smile in favor of flipping through the book he’d pulled you away from.

“You haven’t seen anything, not really. Why did you come here anyways?”

“You’re the only person I know with their own room.”

“Right.”

The silence stretches on excruciatingly, like molasses dripping off a spoon, and you do your best to refocus on your reading. To your surprise, it’s the second(?) Soobin that finally breaks it.

“Why do you hate me?”

“I don’t.” Your response is automatic, and draws identical snorts from the both of them with an immediacy that startles you. “I mean, you—you’re annoying, but that doesn’t mean I hate you.”

“What about me annoys you?” They ask the question in perfect unison, both of them leaning toward you now, and you find yourself curling back against your headboard. Just one Soobin is more than enough to deal with; you don’t like feeling like you’re outnumbered on top of that.

“You—you’re too perfect,” you finally admit with a grimace. “You’re smart and hard-working and reliable and hot and it's so—”

“You think I’m hot?”

“I think you’re the worst,” you snap defensively. It doesn’t stop the twin grins from spreading, though, both of him edging across the bed towards you until you’re curled against the headboard of your bed like a cornered cat.

“I don’t mind if you—” “—if you think I’m annoying—” They’re both tripping over each other’s words now, and despite your best efforts, it’s endearing, a matched set of rosy cheeks and bright eyes closing in on you. “As long as you don’t hate me.”

One of them reaches forward to gently tug your book from you hands, carefully marks the page and sets it aside, as the other curls an arm around your waist, his body heat sending a shiver up your spine.

“I actually… really like you…” Lips brush across your ear with the admission, as the Soobin in front of you tucks his head into your neck, hands curling cautiously at your hips.

“Y-yeah?” There’s no steadying your voice when you have two solid bodies pressing in on either side of you, but you’re not sure there’s any point in trying to save face at this point. When you feel simultaneous nods, silky hair brushing against your collarbone and rustling against your hair, it’s like that last thread snapping. You bring your hands up, wrapping one around the wrist at your waist, tangling the other in the hair tickling your throat, take a deep breath and drag Soobin up for a kiss. His mouth is soft and pliant under yours, and you pull away just as he gets over his surprise enough to kiss you back, twisting in their arms to kiss the Soobin behind you.

This is… not exactly how your fantasies usually go, but you can work with this, you think.

The hands at your hips grip you more firmly as the Soobin in front of you rolls his hips forward, pressing his hard length into your core, grinding you back into the firm bulge waiting behind you. The sensation has your insides fluttering, suddenly painfully aware of how empty you are, of how full you could be.

You don’t even realize that the other set of hands are working at getting you undressed until soft, warm palms are skimming along your bare shoulders, lips moving hungrily across the line of your collarbones, long fingers pinching your nipples sweetly. The three of you (two of you?) are such a confused tangle of limbs, your hands don’t know where to go first—fumbling with the buttons of the first shirt you reach for, growling and tugging in frustration as you realize he’s somehow already dragging your underwear down your thighs.

It’s not fair, you think—there are two of him, more clothes to take off and more hands to work at yours, and you’re not sure how you’re supposed to keep up. Fingers sliding through the slick of your arousal cut your thoughts off with brutal efficiency, though, spreading your lips open as Soobin buries his heard between your thighs and licks firmly up your folds. Your hips jerk forward into the soft heat of his tongue, and his copy laughs against your mouth as you whine, cupping your face and taking the chance to dip his tongue into you as well.

They tonguefuck you with gentle, mismatched thrusts, until your legs are shaking against Soobin’s shoulders, until you’re clutching his double’s shirt, rocking helplessly over and into his mouths. It’s a painfully teasing roller coaster they drag you along, teeth nipping at your lower lip, lips sucking at your clit, ramping you up and up until you’re dizzy. Two long, thick fingers press into you, filling you with slow, experimental strokes, until he finds the spot that makes you moan around his tongue and clench around his fingers. The orgasm he drags out of you is slow and inescapably cruel, drawn out and hazy under the unrelenting heat of too many hands, too many tongues, and it shudders through you until you’re sobbing under the weight of it.

When the Soobin between your legs resurfaces, his glasses are fogged up, lips and chin shiny with your cum, and he looks far too pleased with himself. Before embarrassment can settle properly in the pit of your stomach, though, he’s cupping your face with big, warm hands, pressing sticky kisses to your lips with a giddy laugh. The other Soobin looks just as delightedly smug, eyes crinkled up in a matching grin as he watches himself make a mess of you. The taste of yourself on his tongue, sharp and musky, burns you up, makes you hungry for more as your greedy hands grab at a slender waist, rocking into a clothed thigh desperately.

“Can I fuck you?” You’re not sure which one of them asks—if it’s just one of them that asks—and they’re both looking at you with matching expressions of hunger, eyes wide and bright, plush lips parted.

Your hands are quicker than your words, fingers fumbling with the cool metal of a belt before your stumbling ‘yes’ trips off your tongue, and you think he might laugh again if he wasn’t busy brushing your clumsy hands away, freeing his erection himself. Big hands manhandle you across the bed until you’re draped over one of their thighs, the other wrapping your legs around his waist to slide the stiff length of his cock along your folds, his blunt head nudging against clit teasingly.

You reach for his hips and rock up into him, catching the tip of his cock at your entrance, drawing a breathy moan from him as he gives in and begins to slowly push into you. He stretches you nearly to the point of aching, toes curling and heels dig into the small of his back as you’re filled more completely than you’ve ever been before, until his hips are finally flush against your own. The other Soobin dips his head down to catch a nipple in between his lips, sucking and nibbling lazily across your chest until you’re twisting a hand in his hair, until your nipples are hot and puffy from his attention.

It’s impossible to keep your eyes open under the onslaught of sensation—one mouth worshiping your breasts while another fills the air with wild, needy groans; a hand tangled in your, stinging at your scalp while another tweaks and toys with your nipples, yet another hand gripping your thigh with an almost bruising force while another twines its fingers with your own sweetly; and all the while, his thick cock moving inside of you.

Soobin doesn’t slow even as he finishes inside of you with a high, needy whine, his cum spilling out in messy gushes around his cock as his double laves your nipples. When he finally pulls out, it’s only to move down your body immediately, mouth sealing over your swollen lips to lick his own cum out of you.

Watching him dive face-first into his own release, lapping up your mingling fluids, unlocks something a little wild inside of you—before you can second-guess yourself, you’re tugging him up and off of you by the hair.

“The two of you should kiss.” They both look up at you with wide eyes then, before you can backtrack, they’re leaning in across your body, identical pairs of full, pink lips meeting in a sloppy kiss over you.

They’re putting on a show for you, you realize with a thrill, cum dripping from the corners of their mouths as Soobin pushes his own release into his mouth. The sound of it is just as obscene as the sight, loud and wet as it breaks the stillness of your room, soft sighs and moans as they work each other up for you. Candy-sweet flashes of pink tongue and white teeth between rosy, kiss-swollen lips make your own empty mouth water; you can’t resist the urge to lean in yourself, to lick up one of the shining trails of spit and cum off one of their chins, and then they’re both turning into your mouth, both of them trying to kiss you at the same time.

It’s a mess, two sets of lips moving over your own, tongues tangled and spit dripping down your chin. One of them takes your hand, presses it against his still-clothed erection, and you break away from the kiss to wiggle down, jerking his pants open with sharp, impatient movement—the fact that there’s a cock here you haven’t had inside of you is untenable.

Even after having him inside of you once already, he’s intimidatingly big as you draw him out of his pants, thick and hot in your hand. You have no idea how he fit into your cunt, how he’ll fit into your mouth, but the impossibility of it doesn’t do anything to abate your hunger. You lick a stripe along the underside of his cock, savoring the weight of him on your tongue, the salty-sharp taste of sweat and precum as you suck his head into your mouth and curl your tongue along his frenulum, up to dip into his slit.

You realize Soobin is jerking himself off to the sight of you sucking him off, panting at the sight of your lips stretched around his cock, drool slipping out of your mouth to drip down his balls. Knowing that he’s watching just fuels your fervor, bobbing your head back down until he’s bumping against the back of your throat, forcing your muscles to relax until you can take him in even deeper. Tears fill your eyes, your jaw slack around him as your focus narrows down to two tasks: breathing and fucking his cock into your throat.

It’s the way you swallow around him, the delicate muscles of your throat working around his cock, that has Soobin grabbing your hair, stilling inside of your mouth with a pained groan as he cums—thick, hot spurts that taste briny and bittersweet on your tongue. You swallow it down greedily, but it fills your mouth more quickly than you can keep up with, sliding from the corners of your lips in fat, pearly droplets. The sight has the other Soobin pressing the warm, ruddy head of his cock against your cheek to smear his double’s cum across your skin, to paint your face with his own heavy ropes of release.

You’re floaty and vague as gentle hands pull you carefully off his cock, jaw aching and head stuffed full of cotton. Something soft and damp wipes gently at your face, feather-light as it swipes over your lashes, firmer as it scrubs the stickiness from your cheeks. At some point, you’re going to have stop and think about what just happened, but with two sets of warm, sturdy arms wrapped around you, matching heartbeats lulling you into relaxation, that moment feels impossibly far off.

“The, uh… the project on your desk…”

“What about it?” Wariness cuts though the drowsiness that weighs down your lids, but when you look to Soobin sharply, you’re only met with twin shy smiles and guileless eyes meeting your own hopefully.

“You said it changes the way time passes… maybe, we could steal a little more, before this, uh—wears off?”

Something in your chest flutters at the thought, despite your best efforts to tamp it down, and you snuggle down to hide the warmth spreading across your cheeks.

“…maybe.”

#soobin smut #txt smut #kinktober 2021 #kinktober #this is wildly late because i died trying to make this make sense #i gotta start making these shorter #ficlets📓 #txt👾 #magical school au🕯 #one shot📖

[captains-simp]

Ummmmm........

Can I have Yelena Belova "I'll stay as long as you need me too" or Fluff number 3?

I think i got the right prompt but it's definitely fluff.

If you still are accepting these requests and you haven't already done this one yet.

Chskdjks I didn't think anyone was actually going to request anything, this sparks so much joy (all of the requests are amazing and I'm working on them all). Soft Yelena let's gooooo

"I'll stay as long as you need me to."

Warnings: injury detail and my extreme lack of knowledge regarding medical treatment

2k words

[ masterlist ]

Buy me a coffee ☕

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Hearing someone knocking at your door at 11:48 pm was never something you took much comfort in. Especially when there was no previous heads up about it.

You considered not opening door, telling yourself to continue watching your show and not think about the fact that you didn't live in the best neighbourhood.

When the knocking continued you wondered if you should call someone, anyone, but the faint and very much strained sound of your friend's voice had you sprinting across the apartment to open the door.

Yelena was leaning against the door frame, frighteningly pale and looking as tired as someone who had just fought a war on their own. Given her line of work you guessed you weren't that far off.

"Lena you...what happened?" Your eyes fell to her stomach where she was holding her blood stained shirt. You felt faint imagining how bad of an injury she had sustained.

You stumbled backwards and motioned for her to come in before you shut the door behind her and rushed to the bathroom to get your well-stocked first aid kit.

You had meant to go back to the front door to help Yelena into the bathroom but she had already made her way towards you.

"I love that you have such a small appartment." She breathed out. You smiled weakly and supported her weight as you helped her manage the final few steps to your bathroom and sat her on the edge of the tub.

"You should be thankful for the friend that owns it too." You joked as you knelt down infront of her.

"I am." Yelena was quick to say. "I really am." You smiled up at her took her hands away from her shirt before you slowly peeled it away to expose the gun shot wound. You took a sharp intake of breath at the sight of it.

"You need to go to a hospital." You said as you tried to examine it without causing your friend any extra discomfort.

"I can't." You knew better than to push that. It no doubt had something to do with her mission, which meant you weren't allowed to know.

Yelena had never made it a habit of coming to you for medical assistance - especially as you weren't a doctor or nurse. The first time you had done so was when you picked up on her strained walk. You kept bugging her about it until she finally showed you the gash on her calf. It had been easy to clean and healed quickly. After that was a deep cut on her arm, then a burn on her back, then another cut. All of which you noticed. It was only when the injuries were bad that Yelena asked for your help. Too stubborn to ask anyone else and smart enough to know she needed assistance.

You never told Yelena, but you had gone out of your way to learn a little more than the basics on dealing with injuries. Once or twice you had to sneak away from her in your bathroom to double check one of your books to make sure you were doing everything right. Whenever she asked how you knew so much you made up some lie about watching a lot of TV...okay so maybe that wasn't a complete lie.

"Where's the bullet?" You asked, confused by the absence of an exit wound.

"I took it out." Yelena mumbled, she was starting to look worse now.

"Yelena!" You scolded. "No wonder you're bleeding so much." Yelena knew better than to do that but you decided you would investigate that further another day.

You placed a cloth against the wound and held it there with one hand and bit your lip as you glanced up at her.

She's lost a lot of blood...really needs a hospital...are stitches enough?

You didn't want to leave Yelena's side for a second to check one of your books. You weren't sure stitches would cut it, the wound should have been cauterized but you had no experience with that and didn't want to try your luck. Stitches would have to do.

You prepared the needle and thread as Yelena held onto the cloth. Your hand was shaking slightly in anxiety over the situation. You wanted to hear about the mission, about who shot the blonde you cared for so deeply. She wasn't meant to tell you anything, but you needed to hear her voice and it would help her stay conscious so you tried.

"Did you get the jackass who shot you?" You asked as you started to hold the skin in place. Yelena hissed sharply before speaking.

"Of course." Even bleeding out she was smug, what else would you expect from her?

"Mmm, and the mission was a success?"

"It was." You were surprised at the confirmation. "Besides getting shot." She added. You had been trying to keep her attention off of that fact.

Yelena gripped the bathtub tightly and groaned. There had been no time for anaesthetic.

"Almost done." You assured.

You stayed in a concentrated silence as you finished the last stitch. It wasn't perfect, but you had done a good job.

You got up to get a bottle of painkillers from the cabinet and handed them to Yelena with a glass of water. She waved them away at first until she begrudgingly accepted them after a firm look from you.

You carefully cleaned the blood off of her stomach with half a dozen wipes and placed a dressing over the wound as gently as you could manage. It would need constant attention for a while and you could only hope that Yelena would stay with you in that time. You wanted her by your side until she was well. You wanted her by your side when she recovered too. That was a convosation you weren't ready for.

"Thank you, y/n." Yelena said as she struggled to keep her eyes open.

"Let's get you to bed." You said, lifting her arm over your shoulder again to help her up.

"No, you don't have to-"

"Doctor's orders." You insisted, not in the mood to deal with Yelena's stubborness when she could have bled out in your bathroom. There was still a chance that could happen. She could sense your slightly agitated tone - she was superspy and your best friend of years, so of course she could.

"Not a doctor." She muttered as you guided her to your room. You rolled your eyes but didn't manage to stop the small smile creeping onto the corner of your mouth.

"I'll take the couch." She made a move to separate from you but you held onto her waist perhaps a little too desperately to lead her to your room.

"No way."

"It's your house." Yelena said, trying to look at you but you kept your eyes forward, afraid of what she would discover when she read you.

"Then we'll both take the bed." You sighed. Yelena managed a sly smile at your words and you gently nudged her side as you sat her down on your bed. "It's not like we haven't shared a bed before." You said that to yourself more than Yelena, trying not to think about how close you would be during the night and how that would probably keep you awake.

You handed her a spare pair of pajamas and went to leave for the bathroom to change and clean away when you noticed her struggle.

"Let me." You muttered in the least pitiful and condescending tone you could, knowing if she thought she heard some she would reject any further help from you. She nodded so you lifted the stained shirt over her head as carefully as you could, using her breathing patterns as a guide to tell you if she had any discomfort.

"You want that off too?" You motioned to her sports bra and averted your eyes a little too obviously from her toned stomach.

Yelena huffed when she noticed the sports bra, clearly thinking about how much of a literal pain it would be to get off.

"Just get me some scissors." You nodded and grabbed some from your desk and handed them to her, instantly turning on your heals to leave to avoid a sight that would be stuck in you head for the rest of your life.

God, y/n. Don't be such a perv. You mentally scolded as you cleaned and cleared everything away before quickly getting into your pajamas.

You knocked on your bedroom door and heard Yelena tell you you could come in.

Her discarded and very much ruined beyond saving clothes were in a surprisingly neat pile on the floor, you would deal with that the next day.

Yelena was wearing one of your shirts, which looked much better on her, and hadn't bothered with the pajama bottoms. You gulped as you realised you would be sleeping next to her in that.

"You always have your heating on way too high." Yelena mumbled, you smiled sheepishly and let the complaint go as she was clearly not having the best of days.

"I get-"

"Cold easily. I know." Yelena smiled knowingly at you as she pulled the covers over herself and layed on her side facing your side of the bed. You got in next to her and mirrored her position.

"Please don't go disappearing as soon as I fall asleep." You said with a slight pout. It wasn't like she hadn't done that before.

"I'll stay as long as you need me to." Yelena smiled reassuringly at you. You wanted to believe that, but it seemed much more likely that you would wake up without Yelena next to you the next day.

The blonde must have picked up on your skepticalism, she placed a gentle hand on your hip and the other snaked around your back. Together, they pulled you closer to her slowly until you were pressed against Yelena as she moved onto her back. One of her legs even tangled around yours to keep you close.

You didn't move for a moment, almost not trusting yourself, but eventually you gave in to what you were craving and rested your head in the crook of her neck and wrapped your arms firmly around her.

Her familiar scent engulfed you in a way that was much more reassuring than her words. This was amplified when Yelena kept her hand on your hip while the other combed through the top of your hair in the most comforting gesture you had ever seen from her much less received. You felt yourself sink into her more as you fully relaxed.

You couldn't contain the smile on your lips. Nor could you ignore the butterflies throwing a rave in your stomach. It definetly didn't help you get a handle on your ever-growing feelings for your friend, but there was no way you were going to pull away from the embrace.

In the warmth and security of Yelena's comfort it didn't take long for sleep to overtake you. You knew she was safe, as you kept brushing your fingers lightly across the part of her shirt concealing the dressing, and you knew she was there with you. It put your mind at rest better than anything else ever had.

But just as you slipped into your deep sleep you could have sworn you felt Yelena's soft lips on your forehead.

Maybe there was a chance you could fall asleep in her arms more often and maybe it could be when she was unharmed. You were unsure about a lot of things in life, but that was something you felt confident on.

And rightly so.

#yelena belova oneshot #yelena belova imagines #yelena belova #yelena belova x reader