#a illusion spell was put on him

[sttoru]

[ 𝐈 𝐁𝐄𝐓 𝐎𝐍 𝐋𝐎𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐎𝐆𝐒 ]

⠀ 𝝑𝑒 ⠀⠀ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. the king of curses cannot fight off his primal urges and thus you suffer the consequences.

tags. true form!sukuna x concubine!female reader. smut, angst (w/ comfort), p.orn with mostly plot. mäting press. choking. rough like.. condescendingly rough. objectification. toxic relationship? yes. small hint of creampiē. double cawks. reader gets called ‘slut, girl, woman’ wc: 3.9k

“look at that slutty cunt takin’ my cock. think i wanna try fitting both at once in that lil’ hole. keh,” sukuna grunts as he looks down at you from above. your legs are burning from being folded in half—matter of fact—your entire body is aching.

any normal person would call out their safeword in a situation like this. you’re overwhelmed to the point that your brain doesn’t know what to do. you’re experiencing euphoria, yet feel like your doom is right around the corner.

you’re playing with fire whenever you’re intimate with the king of curses.

it’s too addictive to stop. being his favorite concubine has given you enough motivation to push through any difficulties. any discomfort your body feels, is automatically discarded and replaced with drowning pleasure. it’s like sukuna has put a spell on you; one that’s unbreakable.

“fffnghh—my lord,” you gasp for air as one of his big hands wrap tightly around your throat. your airway is blocked, nearly crushed by sukuna’s immense force. you get a flashback to the last time he’s choked you, how sukuna nearly lost control of his own strength.

your eyes are watery as your insides follow each thrust. back and forth, in and out. it is a simple rhythm, but you cannot get enough. the harsh and sticky echoes of skin slapping against skin are nearly ear deafening. his heavy balls bounce against the plush flesh of your ass with every move, ready to unload everything they’ve stored.

“shut up,” sukuna spits, looking down at you like you’re but a mere insect. perhaps you were exactly that to him in the heat of the moment. his red eyes show that he’s losing himself. that cruel yet greedy look only intensifies with the second, “you only speak when y’re spoken to—or did y’ forget your damn place?”

you swallow your words and resort to simple moaning after you apologise, “i’m sorry, m’lord.” your blurry vision creates a trippy illusion, giving sukuna eight arms and eyes. not only are you seeing double, the feeling of ecstasy is twice as strong. you feel like you’re being ripped apart from the inside.

you can’t speak about it. you’re not allowed to open your mouth unless it’s to moan or breathe. perhaps even the latter is too much to ask. your fingers shake as they wrap around sukuna’s wrist. you try to tug at the hand that is wrapped around your throat, but your strength is gone.

your body is shaking violently with each thrust. you can’t keep up with anything that’s happening. you’re unable to process the feeling of sukuna’s second cock trying to prod its way into your cunt as well. you’re going to break — he’s going to break you.

you want to speak up and tell him you can’t take both in the same hole at once. it’s an impossible task; one can’t even fit that easily. he’s girthy and got an immense length, an inhuman one you’ve never seen before. you swear you can feel him in your tummy. the tip feeling like it's nestled right underneath your belly button.

sukuna scoffs as you tighten up around his lower cock. you’re weak; a weak human who he can’t seem to get out of his mind. he wants to exploit that obedience of yours today—to ruin you mentally and physically.

he can’t ignore those urges to ruin that what causes him weakness. he wishes to regain the power over himself again. that can only be done by consuming you, removing you from existence.

“i can’t fuckin’ stand you,” sukuna growls, his eyes darkening beyond imagination, “y’re always in the way.” you’re scared of the king of curses, which rarely happens. the last time you were afraid of his monstrous aura was during your first encounter in the woods. his manly hand squeezes your throat until you’re genuinely struggling to breathe.

there’s an unmistakable sense of danger boiling in your guts. this is the real nature of the curse named ryomen sukuna. the man above you, who’s drilling his cock into you while you’re suffering, is the real deal.

the true face of the man you thought you knew.

“i’m gonna get rid of you, y’hear? after this, y’re nothing,” sukuna pants, sweat droplets falling onto your cheeks from above. he looks like he’s internally fighting with himself. the expression on his face tells you enough. you want to reach a hand out towards his cheek and hold it.

he looks beautiful, even when he spews such serious threats at you. your cunt is burning and holding tightly onto his cock, even when you realise it may break you.

you’ve stayed for so long with him, even when you know you’ll one day die at his side or by his hands.

locks of his pink hair stick to his forehead. sweat rolls down those black tattoos. all four red eyes are burning with a carnal desire to claim you as his property—to destroy you like his property. as is his right. that’s the only way to satiate that overwhelming feeling inside of sukuna.

whenever you’re around him, he finds himself drawn by your presence. he wants you to stay by his side all day, and if you aren’t, it’s like gravity is pulling him towards you. sukuna despises it—he craves to possess you, yet also get rid of your entire being. that way he can return to his normal self. the monster he's known as.

“i’ll throw ya away—gonna get a new toy to spend more time with,” the king of curses digs his nails into the back of your knees. the tip of his upper cock glides back and forth over your clit, teasing the bundle of nerves until it’s burning. you’re losing yourself in both pleasure and pain.

the hurtful words don’t seem to affect you. you still look up at him like he’s your everything—like he’s the reason you exist. sukuna turns furious the moment he notices that his threats don’t seem to work. you’re impossible and he hates that which he cannot control.

he cuts off any air that may enter your lungs. your eyes widen and your fingers tug at his wrist so he’d let loose, but alas. you’re going to lose consciousness without a doubt. tears stream down your cheeks, though not because of the hopelessness you’re feeling.

“i do not need you anymore,” sukuna says gruffly, trying to convince himself of that statement as well. he never needed anyone else during his entire lifetime, so why would he need you? he can replace you with any another woman.

your body goes limp. sukuna’s voice is muffled as you enter a state of half consciousness. you’re at the bridge between life and death. your eyes catch a glimpse of the faint struggle in his eyes.

he looks like a monster through and through, visibly acting like one too. though you’re able to catch a glimpse of an underlying vulnerability. that part of him that always shows itself when you two are alone—making you feel special because you’re the only one allowed to witness it.

you crack a faint, weak smile. even if you perish right then and there, it’s going to be at the hands of the man you’ve learnt to love. the sorcerer who’s made you feel on top of the world, without him realising it. you’ll forever be thankful for the moments you’ve spent together.

you’ll never forget the times where sukuna has made you feel safe in those same arms that will now be your death.

a tear slides down your temple. you look sukuna in the eyes while you’re seconds away from meeting your end. you show no signs of struggle as he gives you your final command;

“die.”

you close your eyes. your fingers loosen their grip around sukuna’s wrist before you let your hand fall at your side. you’ve accepted your fate with a weary smile, honored to have sukuna be the last thing you see, “understood, my lord.”

you’ve lost feeling in all limbs and your eyelids droop. all you can do is await for death to come collect your soul. it’s dark and you can’t hear a thing anymore. you’re confused when the burning sensation in your lungs returns.

your eyes fly open the moment some oxygen is able to reach your airway again. the harsh fingers around your neck have disappeared, though not without leaving aching marks. you clutch your chest as it hurts to breathe after not being able to for the longest time.

you gasp and cough uncontrollably. you wince and blink the tears away from your eyes, refocusing your vision on the large stature detaching from your side. you’re bewildered to say the least—not realising the reason behind sukuna’s sudden change of heart. he’s sworn to get rid of you, didn’t he?

he told you to die and yet he let you live.

“fuck,” the king of curses groans after he snapped out of the dangerous state he was in. he’s panting snd staring at the hand that was once wrapped around your throat. he’s not looking at you at all.

you feel him pull out which makes you hiss. you sit up, the adrenaline helping your tired body move itself. sukuna is silent, with no emotions apparent on his face. however one thing you can conclude for sure is that he’s caught off guard by his own actions.

he can’t get it out of his head. the vision of you laying beneath him, accepting your doom as told. even on the brink of death, you oblige. you accept his every word. why? sukuna’s head is filled with unanswered questions.

you’re an enigma that he cannot solve.

“out of the way, girl,” sukuna easily shoves you to the side with one hand. he’s still not looking you in the eyes. he refuses to look in the eyes of the one woman whom he tried to kill. the sole woman who seems to accept him for who he is.

you’re the only one who’s able to understand him and yet he tried to get rid of you. perhaps he’s afraid of being understood and accepted. sukuna is fine on his own—there’s no need for anyone by his side.

you manage to get your breathing under control after a couple seconds. you’re still hyperventilating, but it’s getting better. your body shakes as you cover yourself with the sheets, your hair messily covering your vision. you reach a hand out to sukuna, curious about what’s gotten into him, “i’m, ngh- are you okay, m—”

“i said, get out,” the man raises his voice before harshly grabbing your wrist. sukuna pushes you towards the exit of his chambers. you stumble forward and manage to catch yourself by grabbing onto the nearest wall. everything is happening so fast.

you simply nod and grab your robes from the floor. you hurriedly cover yourself before stepping out of the room. you fall to your knees not two steps away into the hallway. your hand flies up to your neck, touching it as if making sure that you’re still alive.

you can’t believe sukuna spared you. if he changed his mind one second later than he originally had, you’d be a lost cause.

tears well up in your eyes as the gravity of the situation settles in. you may have accepted your fate in the heat of the moment, but now that it’s over, you’re left trembling on your own. you can’t shake off that intense look in sukuna’s eyes as he pounded you into the mattress.

he was hungry for your soul. to consume you and not leave any of your bones—to get rid of you so you’re out of his sight and mind.

you sniffle and can’t bring yourself to stand up. you’ve lost strength in your legs because the adrenaline levels in your body have dropped. you slowly crawl over the floor and hope that no one catches you in a pitiful state like this.

you manage to get a couple metres away, though soon find yourself staring at a pair of socks that come into view. you lift your head and the owner of the tabi eventually appears in sight.

“uraume,” your voice is hoarse. you make eye contact with sukuna’s personal chef as they stand before you, their expression unreadable.

the sigh they let out tells you that they’ve expected such an outcome since long ago. without a word, they reach a hand out and help you up.

. . .

it’s been a week since then. uraume has helped you recover from that unfortunate experience. the other concubines didn’t dare talk to you. they’ve noticed the change in sukuna’s behavior after that night he spent with you.

he’s gone on more rampages than he usually does. he’s been killing innocent servants who walked past him while on duty, and visiting nearby villages only to commit mass destruction. his emotions are uncontrollable at this point and no one has a clue on what to do.

the best option is to stay out of sukuna’s sight. and not to mess with you, just in case.

you’ve personally tried to approach him a couple times, but either chicken out or get totally ignored. you really want to talk it out, though it may seem impossible. you’ve evaded death once, you’re not sure if you can do that twice.

you’re currently sitting on a bench in the courtyard as uraume is applying an ointment to your throat. your neck still hurts with every move you make. the strength of sukuna’s hand is not to be underestimated, you know that.

you flinch as they rub the cold liquid over your achy skin. it helps numbing the pain, which is god sent for when you want to sleep. you can easily rest without having to suffer the unbearable discomfort in your neck muscles.

it’s a bit quiet in the garden. it isn’t unusual for uraume to be silent, but you’re aching to talk about what’s bothering you. of course, the oh-so-important subject includes no one other than the king of curses.

you sigh and start rambling about your failed attempts to reconcile your relationship with sukuna. you’re getting frustrated and sad at the situation. you want nothing more than to go back to how things were—with you receiving special treatment.

you miss his voice, his touches, his hair, his skin, his muscles, his eyes, his hugs. . . it’s all too much to bear with. you want the sukuna you know back. you don’t care if he tried to get rid of you. you’ve long understood that it was his primal, unspoken urges that had taken over his brain.

“i don’t know.. he doesn’t want to talk to me nor see me,” you shrug and pout. uraume nods and tilts your chin back gently to get the ointment in every little cranny. you stare up at the bright blue sky, the gentle breeze being comforting, both mentally and physically.

your ears pick up on footsteps behind you. heavy footsteps which you recognise as sukuna’s. you whip your head to the side, perhaps a bit too fast, causing the pain in your neck muscles to return. you hear uraume sigh as they see their hard work go to waste in under a split second.

your eyes are focused on sukuna’s large stature filling out the layout of the garden. uraume politely bows at their master after taking a few steps away from you. they don’t lift their head as sukuna walks past you both.

he doesn’t spare you a glance. it’s like you’re not there at all. you frown and pout, though know better than to make a fool out of yourself and speak up. you watch the man walk into the main building of the estate, his sharp eyes focused on the path ahead, his hands resting inside the sleeves of his black kimono.

once sukuna disappears from your vision, you sigh and slump back against the bench. you look at uraume as they move close to you again, taking a glance at your neck. you huff and cock your head to the entrance of the building, “see! that’s what i mean!”

you’re clearly fed up. you just want to make up. you don’t care about the fact that he nearly killed you in that moment. you simply desire to feel that connection between the two of you again. a complicated relationship with its many ups and downs. it may be toxic, but you crave it.

uraume hums at your worries. they radiate a sense of peace that inevitably calms you down as well. they take a quick glance at the direction where sukuna was last seen. they’ve been serving him ever since decennia back—way before you became his concubine.

they’ve never seen him this conflicted, but they don’t tell you that. uraume looks back at you with a simple nod, trusting that you’ll be fine. if your life has been spared when sukuna was in such an indescribable irrational state of mind, then there’s nothing to worry about.

you’re the only one who’s ever escaped death by his hands. that is an incredible feat by itself.

uraume rubs the oil over your neck again, getting the last spots as they reassure you with one simple sentence; “i’m sure lord sukuna simply requires some time alone.”

. . .

you take uraume’s comment seriously. if sukuna needed time, you’ll give him as much space as possible. and thus it’s been another week ever since then.

it’s a sunday night and you can’t sleep. you get up from your futon and wrap a simple blanket around your body. you can’t be bothered to brush your hair or look proper. no one will be up during this ungodly hour anyway.

you sneak out of your chambers and walk down the long hallways. you slide the door to the courtyard open and step out onto the pavement after putting on your geta. it’s a chilly night with a full moon, perfect weather to take a breather.

you walk around the familiar scenery and crouch down near a patch of flowers. they’re your favorites. sukuna had personally ordered his servants to plant them in the garden after he found out you like them. the memory brings a fond smile to your face.

such small yet meaningful actions never fail to melt your heart. it’s another reason why you want to make up with sukuna. you want to help with whatever he’s struggling with, however you know that man will never accept the aid.

you wish to support him at the very least. you want to show your devotion to him, if that already wasn’t clear to him.

you sigh and stand up. you’re caught up in your own thoughts to realise that someone’s been watching you the entire time. you walk straight forward until you reach the koi pond. you stare at the fish as they float in the clear water.

you wish you could be as carefree as them. you turn around to walk back to your room after it’s getting a bit too cold. you did not expect to bump your head against a hard surface. “ow,” you rub your forehead and look up.

there he stands; the man you’ve been dying to see and speak to. sukuna stares down at you without uttering a word, his sharp eyes finally looking into yours.

“ry— my lord,” you stammer, switching to a more polite stance. you’re thrilled, but the excitement quickly dies down as you remember uraume’s words; he needs time. you don’t want to disturb him, as much as you want to jump into his arms. you bow your head at him, “have a good night.”

your heart hurts as you force yourself away from sukuna. you step away from him and look at the ground as you walk. simply seeing him from up close again has been enough for now. though, your body yearns for more.

a simple touch will suffice. . .

you’re surprised when you feel a tug at the blanket around your shoulders. you stumble back and nearly fall on your bum if it wasn’t for sukuna holding you up. you feel an arm sneak around your waist from behind, surprisingly gentle. much gentle than ever before.

sukuna lowers his head to whisper in your ear. he lets his wet tongue slide over the shell, nibbling at the skin as if reminding himself of your taste, “stay.”

it’s an order, that you can tell. you’re weak for him and thus you obey without a single sign of protest. you feel a sudden sharp sting on the side of your neck which makes you remember what caused it. sukuna seems to notice the same thing.

it’s been getting better, but you still randomly get tingles near your neck area when you move it around too much. you silently push through the pain, which only lasts about a few seconds.

sukuna doesn’t comment on it, but takes a mental note of the sight. he’s recalling that time when you’ve nearly died at his hands. his eyes darken at the memory. he’s been trying to process the fact that he’s lost control over himself. those dark urges had taken over his mind and body, nearly consuming him whole.

they’re still hidden inside him—the desires to possess you, crush you, consume and devour your heart, body and soul. they intensify when you’re with him. it doesn’t happen with anyone else.

sukuna still cannot comprehend why you. what does that feeling in his stomach mean whenever he’s with you? it’s irritating, because it confuses him. confusing things which he doesn’t hold the answer over, annoy the king of curses.

an urge to claim someone as his forever, going as far as to want to consume them, is a new feeling to sukuna. it’s an unhealthy obsession that’s started because of you.

is that what humans call love?

he’s thought about it. perhaps, that is the case. but it must be a different type of love—one that’s so overwhelming that it’s dangerous. for both parties involved.

sukuna sighs. thinking about emotions and feelings isn’t his forte—it never really was. it’s stupid and foolish. and yet sukuna feels like a true king whenever you’re with him. your devotion to him sends shivers down his spine in a good way.

it showed two weeks ago. he saw how you accepted your position; your death. it turns him on to see you so submissive and obedient. maybe that’s also a reason why he nearly lost his mind that day.

lust is a scary thing.

sukuna’s lips avoid your neck. he rests his forehead on top of your shoulder, simply standing still against you from behind. the chilly breeze is long forgotten as his large stature protects you from the cold air. you don’t even need your blanket anymore.

you smile in content as you finally get what you want. you don’t even need an apology. hell—you don’t even need any words. this moment is more than enough to rebuild your relationship with the man behind you.

“y’re not going anywhere, yeah?” sukuna says in a low and possessive tone. it’s another command you follow without hesitation. he’s never going to tell you directly, but the lack of your presence has definitely been felt. now that he has you, his favorite concubine, he’s not going to lose you again. he won’t allow it.

you nod at sukuna’s words with a chuckle. you’re happy to be back in his warm embrace. you know that sukuna isn’t one to talk about his own inner turmoil, so you don’t push it.

those dark urges of his are to be discussed another day, if sukuna allows it. for now, this fleeting moment is more than enough. you reply to his order as you always do, to any command that leaves his lips;

“understood, my lord.”

[sagaduwyrm]

DCxDP Idea - Tucker x Tim Soulmate AU:

Now on AO3

So the Justice League believes the Fentons and the GIW. Not completely, but enough. That’s the bad news. The worse news is that they have Danny, and are apparently planning to use him in some kind of spell to banish all the ghosts from the living plane. Which, okay, sure, not the worst idea, except that trying to banish a Liminal is a great way to kill them instead, and guess what everyone in Amity Park is? Not to mention what powering such a ritual could do to Danny.

Tucker is not having a panic attack. He might have one later, but right now he has a job to do.

So the thing about the Justice League is that they’re powerful and together they cover each other’s weaknesses, but individually they are, if not manageable, then at least survivable. They can’t take on the entire league, but Ghosts and their ilk have fangs for a reason, and every predator knows how to divide and conquer.

Technus and Skulker are using Lex Luthor’s tech to deal with the Supers. Jazz has got emotional manipulation and FrightKnight’s sword to take down the Flashes. Desiree agreed to start a mage’s duel with the Justice League Dark. Sam, Ember, Johnny, and Kitty hopefully have the watchtower in hand, with Walker playing backup to get Danny free.

Tucker has two jobs. One, work with Technus to take down the Justice League communications without making it look like anything is up. Two, for the love of the Ancients, do not let the Bats realize something is wrong.

And you know what? He’s got this. Duul Aman was the most feared sorcerer of his time. Tucker isn’t him, not really, but he’s no slouch in the magic department. Egyptian magic, the way Duul Aman knew it, was almost like code. Relearning it was as easy as breathing, but the real reason Tucker’s job is to deal with the bats is because he took it further than his last life ever could. Sure, he’s a dab hand at illusions, his curses are almost as nasty as Sam’s, and instant sandstorms are never not useful, but where he really thrives is with tech. Afterall, if ectoplasm can be combined with computers, why can’t magic?

Tucker is the world's first technomage and he’s goddamn proud of it.

It’s his saving grace now. Infiltrating Oracle’s system took weeks, and he still wasn’t able to look at or do anything important, but it was enough of an opening for his magic. He wormed his illusion through every single piece of bat-tech he could reach, whispering in their ear, Gotham needs you. The Justice League is fine. Gotham is where the problems are. 

Weeks of work and sleepless nights, and he still doubts he’ll be able to keep them from noticing anything for more than a few hours. Luckily, by that time Danny will be free and Tucker will be long gone from Gotham.

This confidence lasts until he brushes hands with another guy in the cafe. He can feel the bond snap into place, a soulmark crawling across his body. Tim Drake stares at him, eyes wide but sharp. 

Tim Drake.

Red Robin.

Shit.

Time to see whether fighting ghosts extends to fighting humans, because he is not letting this asshole mess up Danny’s rescue.

+++

The first thing Tim notices when he meets his soulmate is the rage in the man’s eyes.

They’re really pretty eyes. A bright, glowing gold, lined in kohl. Almost certainly a sign of magic. 

They look at him like the man wants to turn him inside out and burn the remains. Tim’s a little offended, beneath the shock and awe.

“Fuck,” the man hisses. Tim’s offense is starting to supersede his surprise. He’s a catch, thank you very much.

He says as much. The man laughs, and it’s almost friendly.  The cafe is empty. The people of Gotham have good instincts, and there’s something in the air around this man that puts Tim’s hackles up.

“You know, I think that’d be more believable if you hadn’t started this.”

Tim’s brow wrinkled. He felt like he’d remember starting something with his soulmate though? What was he supposed to have started, anyway? Saying ‘this’ wasn’t very specific. 

He rolled and dodged to avoid the sudden lash of golden sand. Ah. A fight. He could do that. Figure out why his soulmate was angry later, defeat him now.

He reached up to call for backup and only got static.

Shit.

He was on his own. Time to show this bastard why underestimating a bat was a bad idea.

[certaimromance]

࣪ ִֶָ☾. Cemetery Love.

Dean Winchester x Witch!reader

Summary: Ever since you accidentally discovered that Dean had made a deal and that his days were numbered, you've been trying to make every one of them unforgettable without telling him why. According to him, you're getting crazier and crazier, and according to Sam, you're in love.

Words: 2,9k.

TW: mentions of death, dealings with demons, witches (normal warnings in the series). spoilers for season 2 and 3. angst. fluff. the winchester brothers being chaos lol. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: I love Dean and the Grumpy x Sunshine dynamic, so taking advantage of the sad plot of the deal and mixing it all up with confusion is one of my more chaotic ideas and I hope it turns out well haha.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

You closed the bedroom door behind you, careful not to make any noise that might wake the two brothers who were still sleeping peacefully in their beds. You left the groceries on the table and began to arrange everything to make it a perfect breakfast, the coffees you had bought, the muffin for Sam and the cake for Dean, the wild flowers you had made appear in the new vase you had created with your magic to give the table more vitality, and as a final touch you snapped your fingers and the curtains opened to let in the sunlight.

While you checked that everything was perfect, you stared at them for a few seconds, and the serenity with which they slept made you wonder if all the bad things that followed them were real. So many times you wanted to believe that your mind had played tricks on you, that the first time you saw Sam die was an illusion and that being alive after that was as normal as your magic. You didn't want to believe anything else had happened until you heard Dean talking to him when they thought you couldn't hear and you knew his days were numbered and he didn't want you to know.

That day, you wanted to scream at him that he was an idiot for selling his soul like that, and worse, for not telling you to find a spell to fix it. But the desperation in his voice as he repeated to his brother that you would look at him differently if you knew, and that it scared him more than anything else in the world, silenced you for weeks as you put your secret plan into action. You wanted each day to be better than the last for him as you searched every known coven for ways to avoid his death at all costs.

“Good morning, you lazy pair. It's time to wake up.” You spoke after several minutes of being lost in thought, watching them stir in their beds.

“Shut up, please.” Was all Dean said, pulling the blanket over his head to keep out the sun streaming through the window.

“Good morning to you too. Is that coffee and muffin I smell?” Sam sat up in his bed and looked gratefully at the table. “You're the best, thanks.” He added with a smile.

The best way to start a good day was with a good breakfast, you believed, and you knew the younger Winchester agreed, and that a little cheerfulness, sponsored by a little magic, couldn't hurt in the midst of monsters and supernatural cases. However, the other brother had been in a bad mood lately, and your positivity irritated him, especially when it came in the morning. Of course, he didn't know that the cheerfulness was fake, just an attempt to make him a little happy.

“Let's go! The day is beautiful today, the sun is shining and the birds are singing, all that deserves to be seen.” You said, giving Sam a smile to authorize him to throw a pillow to his brother. “It's so nice.”

You took a sip of your coffee and heard a groan from Dean as he received the pillow his brother had thrown at him. You let out a small mocking laugh.

“You know what's nice? Sleeping and not getting hit in the face by flying pillows.” He replied, finally sitting up grimly in bed, his eyes still closed.

“Be thankful, Winchester. I brought you a nice breakfast.” You said as you sat down in one of the chairs in the small dining room in front of Sam.

Finally, he opened his eyes and scanned you and then the table. He couldn't deny that his stomach rumbled and his mouth watered at the sight of the pie you'd bought. However, nothing took away the feeling of irritability and the headache from not getting the thousand hours of sleep he needed to be well.

“How can you be so happy and look so good in the morning?” He asked after looking at you from head to toe and snorting because you were all dressed up and glowing while he was still in his pajamas.

You raised your shoulders and heard Sam teasing his brother. At that moment, your cell phone vibrated and a message from Bobby asking you to call him caught your attention. You tried not to make the slightest grimace so the brothers wouldn't notice and worry.

“You two take a shower and get something to eat. I'll take a walk and wait for you to join me later.” You got up from your chair and walked briskly to the door.

“What the hell is wrong with her?” Dean asked as soon as the door closed behind you and the creaking sound it made echoed in his head.

“Wrong? She bought us breakfast and she's happy, I don't see anything wrong.” Sam replied, frowning at his brother's attitude. “You're just in a bad mood.”

“I'm not.” Dean replied with a snort, getting out of bed and sitting down in the seat you had used earlier. “She's being weird.”

Until the last few weeks, your behavior had been very different, and the eldest Winchester had noticed it the most. In the past, you barely laughed at his bad jokes or cast spells that weren't meant to save a life on a hunt. Now you smiled so much he was surprised your face didn't hurt, and your spells of pure joy seemed endless. It was as if you had been injected with positivity and vitality.

“She's just happy, it's nice that one of us is.”

At his brother's comment, Dean snorted and began to eat his pie uncomfortably. It wasn't that it bothered him that you were happy, because that was the only thing he could wish for you, it was more a resentment that he couldn't be the same way.

“I think she's in love.” Sam said and took a sip of his coffee.

Automatically, Dean's disinterest in the conversation ended and all his senses kicked in.

“Why? By whom? Since when?”

“Suddenly she is happier, she doesn't stop texting and doesn't let go of her phone, she suddenly disappears and never says where she went, she is much more concerned about her appearance, I have seen her get up earlier to put on makeup and she has asked me a thousand times if she looks good, she rejects every boy who approaches her and she buys us rich food just for the sake of it. The other day I even heard her humming a love song. She is definitely dating someone.”

His brother's full explanation made Dean frown even more and his stomach churn, even the urge to eat was taken away. He didn't like that none of it made any sense, no matter how much it did.

“Or she just went crazy.” He said, putting aside the pie he had been devouring.

“Are you jealous?” Sam asked with some mockery in his tone.

“No. Shut up.”

“Come on, are you still in love with her?” The hunter asked with narrowed eyes, trying to decipher his brother's feelings, even if he only got bad looks from him. “Don't make faces, you told me so.”

And it was true, because months earlier, Dean had gotten drunk in a dive bar after you had almost been seriously injured on a hunt and decided to turn in early. Your absence, combined with the unlimited drinks that a fake card got him, made him finally spill his guts, even his darkest thoughts, to his brother. Most importantly, he confessed that he had been in love with you for years.

“Forget about that night, I was drunk.”

“Everyone says drunks tell the truth and I remember everything you said that night.” Sam remarked, taking a minute to mentally go back to that moment. “Oh Sammy help, I think she cast a love spell on me because I can't get her out of my mind. I don't know what to do anymore.” He put on a high-pitched voice to imitate him and remind him exactly of his words.

“I never said that.”

Sam raised an eyebrow at his denial.

“Well, maybe I did say some things.” He finally admitted with some embarrassment. “But it was stupid.”

“Having feelings for someone isn't stupid, Dean. It's normal, and it was bound to happen to you sooner or later.”

He sighed and could feel the tension in his body rise. “Stop.”

“You can talk to me and...” Sam insisted again, trying to give him some understanding and reassurance, unaware that he was doing just the opposite.

It was definitely too much and made the eldest Winchester feel like a foolish, lovesick teenager chasing an unrequited love thanks to his brother's words. The whole situation infuriated him to no end, it seemed stupid and out of place when he was literally closer to death every day.

“I'm. Not. In. Love. With. Her.” He said slowly, punctuating his voice with every word. He had already lost his patience and only wished that Sam would leave him alone. “How could I fall in love with someone like that? Lately she's been so irritating and stressful. I don't need her songs, or her perfect smile, or her to buy us that damn dream breakfast. We're hunters, and we don't need a witch.”

As soon as he finished speaking and looked at his brother, he heard the door to the room slam shut, throwing an excessive amount of wind at them, almost knocking him out of his seat. It was then that he knew he was completely screwed.

“That was...?” He tried to ask with his voice somewhat shaky.

Dean didn't really need an answer, he knew you had heard him.

“You're an asshole.” That was all Sam said before he got up and walked to the door with the intention of talking to you.

“I'll go.” He said, grabbing his brother's arm and stopping him before he could leave. “I messed up...now pray I don't turn into a frog.”

“It's what you deserve.” Was the last thing Dean heard from his younger brother before he left the room and went to find you.

The sunlight and the sound of birds singing was the first thing he noticed when he left the room, it almost made him smile knowing that you had been right. It didn't take him long to guess that you were in the woods behind the motel, it was the kind of place you always said you found relaxing and probably where you would go when you wanted to get away. He walked quickly and after a few minutes he found you sitting on a rock, staring blankly.

“Get out of here, Winchester.” You said as soon as you felt his presence and heard the distinctive sound of his footsteps, without even turning to look at him. “Or I'll turn you into a rabbit.”

Dean almost smiled, he knew you liked rabbits.

“You have to listen to me, I'm sorry. I didn't mean...that. I didn't mean what I said.” He tried to explain in a confused way, unable to fully express himself. “It was a mistake.”

“What was a mistake, what you said or that I heard you say it?” You replied with irony in your tone, still not turning to look at him because you knew it would hurt.

“It was all a mistake, I shouldn't have said any of that because I don't believe it.” He replied, taking a few slow steps towards you to touch your shoulder. “Maybe I think you're acting weird, but I...”

“You what, Winchester?” You turned and walked away from his touch swiftly. There was something burning inside you from what you had heard and it was releasing everything you had been holding back. “You're going to tell me you don't need a witch because you're a hunter? Well, let me tell you yes because I'm the only one doing anything to save you from the damn deal you made!”

Finally, you stood up from the rock and looked him straight in the eye. You could see him turn pale and frozen at your words.

“How...how do you know?”

“I heard you talking to Sam.”

Once again, a conversation you weren't supposed to overhear had ruined everything for him.

“What have you done?” His tone was serious, there was not a hint of playfulness left, only concern.

Your lips were fully sealed for several seconds before you spoke. “It doesn't matter anymore.”

All the events of the last while began to flash through Dean's mind with speed and began to make a different kind of sense. Every argument his younger brother had given him about you being in love with someone and doing everything for that person made sense, only that someone was him.

“Tell me what you've done.” He repeated coming dangerously close to you. “I'm serious. I know you did something.”

It was so obvious that you couldn't stand by and do nothing to save him. So why didn't he ask for your help in the first place?

“That's why you bought me so much pie, you know I'm going to die. And the calls you make so much...what did you do?” He began to recapitulate all your strange attitudes in his mind and it bothered him that he hadn't noticed it before. “Tell me you haven't done anything stupid, please.”

“Doing so much for you when you don't appreciate it or care is the only stupid thing I've ever done in my life.” You tried to walk past him and leave, but he stopped you.

“You're going to tell me what you did and you're going to forget it.” He said firmly, never letting go of you for fear that you would leave. It was stupid, because he knew you could leave with a single spell if you wanted to. “Speak.”

You looked into his eyes for a few seconds and knew he meant it. He seemed more concerned about your actions than his own situation, and that confused you. You had heard him say how annoying you were and that he didn't need you, but your heart still pounded at his touch. You knew that if you confessed to him that you had been looking for ways to save him for months without caring about the consequences, you would look desperate and vulnerable, you didn't like it, but it was the truth.

“You don't want to talk? Fine, I accept that, but then you're going to stop whatever it is you're doing.” He said after waiting several minutes for you to speak and getting no response.

“But...”

“No buts, I'm serious. I don't want you to do anything, I didn't even want you to know about this before.” Dean sighed tiredly, as if he didn't know what to do. “And again, I'm so sorry for what you heard, it's not the truth and I only said it because Sam was bothering me. I do need you and know it, but not in this.”

“Why? It's my decision.”

“Listen to me for once in your life.” He moved closer until you could almost feel his breath and put a hand on your cheek. “I can lose myself, but I can't lose you, and you have to understand that or I'll go crazy.”

You froze in place, not knowing what to do or say.

“Please forget about it and go back to being yourself.” He finished.

“How am I supposed to do that? What am I supposed to do without you?” You asked, feeling your voice crack as you spoke. “I don't want to say goodbye.”

Dean didn't say anything, he just hugged you tightly, hoping that for once in your life you wouldn't fight. To his surprise, you clung to him and your fear of him disappearing became apparent. You lost count of how many times you heard him whispering to you to let it go, to focus on the present, and that he was with you now, kissing your forehead and repeating that everything was okay.

“Will you turn me into a rabbit if I kiss you now? Be honest.” He asked as soon as he was able to pull away from you a little to look into your eyes.

“Honestly? No. Would I like to? Yes.”

One of his hands rested on your waist and the other tangled in your hair, pulling you closer to him and finally shortening the small distance that separated you. You saw him smile for a few seconds before he placed his lips on yours, letting you know that you had indeed lost your mind. His movements were soft and slow, something you had never imagined from him before, and it surprised you for the better. He seemed to be making an effort to be gentle and that, combined with the sweet taste the pie had left on his lips, had you hypnotized.

Time flew, and almost as if under a spell, you broke the kiss only when your human need for oxygen appeared. You could only guess that it had been a while because his lips were red and he seemed as agitated as you were. All you knew was that you had waited a long time for this and that the possibility of losing him was a thousand times more terrifying now.

“Part of me has been grateful all along to know that I will die before you.” He spoke, and you looked at him as if he were completely insane, because he probably was. “Really, don't look at me like that.”

“Sure, you always want to win and go first.” You rolled your eyes, tried to fake a laugh, and hugged him tighter.

“No, I just can't imagine life without you, my sweet witch.”

[hwajin]

★༉‧₊˚✧ — 𝖜𝖊𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖗

𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐭𝐨𝐛𝐞𝐫 004. — 𝐇𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐉𝐈𝐍 | 𝐬𝐢𝐫𝐞𝐧

𝖌𝖊𝖓𝖗𝖊: smut, hints of angst

𝖕𝖆𝖎𝖗𝖎𝖓𝖌: siren!hyunjin x fem!reader

𝖘𝖞𝖓𝖔𝖕𝖘𝖎𝖘: initially, he played with you. manipulated you into his trance because it was his calling, hypnotizing you to fall under his mercy — he never expected you to do the same to him, to be intoxicating, to be utterly addicting.

𝖜𝖈: 2.9k

𝖈𝖜: oral (f receiving), fingering, edging, piv, unprotected sex, cumming inside, slight dacryphilia, hints of unrequited love, hints of manipulation (since hyunjin's a siren-)

— series masterlist

His fingers on your skin cold, wet, enticing. His pale lips made their journey against your body, kissing and leaving moist patches on moister skin, giving a bite or two, simply to hear you whine, to feel you squirm beneath his touch. You never wanted to miss it, his touch, always urged for more when he was on the brink to pull away.

You met Hyunjin by the lake, as always from the very moment you had first encountered him – a picknick by yourself, a book on your legs and the sun in your face, and he had stood before you. Had sung a melody so pretty you’d been under his mercy momentarily; and ever since you’d been addicted. Hyunjin needn’t to sing to lure you in anymore, needn’t to use his voice on you to make you want him; you started coming to the lake voluntarily, always waiting for him to show up again, always eager. Maybe his voice had put on a permanent effect on you, a long-term spell. Maybe your longing for the man was illusionary, created by him simply to toy with you – to have his fun before he vanished again, because he never stayed. The very moment he left you and him satisfied he was gone in the blink of an eye, before you’ve had the chance to come to your senses. He slipped away from under your touch as quickly as he emerged, as though not real at all, as though a produce of your imagination.

Hyunjin’s teeth grazed your skin, not leaving a spot of yours untouched, not tended to. You were laying on wettened grass, green and fresh beneath you, paying little mind to the way it soaked you, the way it made you shiver in your place. You’d started to care far less about your clothes or hair soaking whenever with him, started to be reminded of him when in contact with water, in its simplest form – drinking a glass you imagined his wet lips on your own, taking a shower you felt his body all over yours, his hands on your hips and his chest atop yours. It was pathetic almost, reeked of hopeless desperation; and then you kept coming to the lake, kept coming and looking for him, kept stilling desperation only for it to flame within you again, not seconds after your ways parted.

The sky above you made Hyunjin’s figure hovering over your own seem vibrant, glistening almost against grey heavens and fog, beaming in shining droplets of water against cold autumn which lay everything in gloom darkness. His body was everywhere, indulging into you, fully submerging you into the spell of his, into the illusion of his love. You lay under his mercy, hopeless with every touch he granted you, needy for ever more when he as much as shifted in his place. His lips continued their journey on your body – giving a kiss to your temple, to your forehead, far too tender, far too loving; moving on to lips and jaw, more urgent now, more vigorous, mouth having missed yours, inhaling your every sound, making your breath his own, bitten lips caressing chin, biting at sharpened jaw; kissing down delicate neck, teeth breaking softness of thin skin, painting dark flowers onto body, nearly drawing blood; moving down to nibble at shoulders, at collarbones and chest, to soothe with kisses momentarily; doting on waist and hips, leaving matching bruises, painting images of love. You doubted it was any more than that, an image simply – yet you let yourself get lost in it, letting yourself lull into prettiest colours and promises, if only for the moment, if only for the few hours spent with him.

Hyunjin looked up at you from beneath his lashes, long and dripping water, seducing you with not more than a gaze. His eyes dark, deep, bearing oceans. He had the powers to drown you, and you were foolish enough in trying to swim.

His hands accompanied his lips on their path across your body, though it was a far messier one. His palms everywhere at once, halting on cheeks or breasts or hips for only mere moments before they were gone again, eager to touch more of you, to explore your every inch, your every hill and vale, the very flaws upon your skin. He was everywhere and nowhere, leaving you hungry for his hold, his grip on you yet granting you more than you were capable of taking. He marked you entirely as his, going as far as marking your soul, carving his name into its’ pages for you to never forget, to always remember. He was intoxicating, manipulating, impossible to refuse.

His kisses tickled your thighs. You lay exposed before him and he latched onto your inner plush, softly, giving kitten licks to pubic bone, only to kiss, just to see you squirm. He was taking his time with you, testing his own patience – you were long hot and bothered, and Hyunjin – seemingly composed – wasn’t any better. Every of your whimper, your every spasm and plea drove him further to senselessness, to overbearing thirst. He didn’t know quite when his touches on your body started to linger, when his heart started aching whenever he submerged into the lake again, whenever he left you laying on the grass only to come back the next day to find you in the same spot, waiting for him. He didn’t know when looking at you started to pang at his heart, because suddenly aware of the impossibility of it – such feelings weren’t in his nature. You shouldn’t be the one luring him in, you shouldn’t be the one taking up every last bit of his mind, you the only thought playing on a loop. You shouldn’t have the same effect he had on you; it was his power to have, a mere human like you wasn’t supposed to confuse everything he’s thought to know about himself.

He kept teasing, didn’t let your whines of desperation get the better of him. He liked taking his time with you – it allowed him to stay with you longer under the pretence of simply looking for pleasure. He watched you, your every move – your body was covered in purple and blue, in blemishes and marks he’d created, his love blossoming on your skin. Your face was contorted, seemingly struggling, longing simply for relief, for more than Hyunjin was giving you now. His lips grazing your skin, moving closer and some more to your core only to pull away, to let his hands wander upon your body and lay his kisses onto tummy or thighs. You chased after every touch, body moving wherever his hands met, arching and pleading. Your hands helpless – you didn’t dare touch him, because you deemed it too intimate. He would turn real if your hands caressed him the same way his ones did, and you felt far too weak to contain yourself from falling under his spell fully, if he only felt attainable. You let a conscious distance, to save yourself, to save your heart – you wondered if it was all too late entirely.

It felt like salvation. You had almost lost hope, had almost started begging and pleading for relief when suddenly you felt it, Hyunjin’s lips on your core, testing waters. Giving kitten licks only to sensitive clit, soft tongue against wetness. It was far too little to what you needed, what you had begged off him for the past half hour you had lay before him, yet the little pleasure he granted, teasing and edging and mean, was enough already after all to send you through insanity. It made you want more while fighting oversensitivity, it had you pleading for his body while the tip of his tongue alone was far too much to bear. You wanted him entirely while having him excessively.

And Hyunjin wanted you to have him, wanted to be yours. Near impossible to resist your wishes he gave in, after all, despite wanting to drag this affair out, to lay with you until late morning hours, side by side throughout hours of dark. He dove in, mouth now lapping onto you, barely capable to contain his own urges – your smell was enticing, your taste more so, the way you felt beneath his touch made Hyunjin forget all about his very being, the bare purpose he walked this planet for; to lure in helpless humans, to sing prettiest melodies and eat them alive. He forgot all about it when his tongue licked a thick stripe from your entrance to your clit, his groan vibrating through you, the tune of his voice intoxicating you. He forgot all about it when his fingers dug deeper into your thighs, drawing blue bruises, when his mouth sucked onto your sensitivity, when he kissed around your core, when he returned to your entrance, tip of his tongue prodding against. When your fingers found his wettened hair, entangling into it, fiddling with strands, pulling at his scalp and his head closer, drawing pain he moaned at. He forgot all about himself in you, and it scared him. Hopelessness like this, not less about a human like you was foreign to his kind, his species, and he wondered if he was twisted. If maybe not true to his nature at all, too weak and foolish to be a creature of seduction, the very embodiment of lust.

Though he couldn’t mind, not with you beneath him, not now. You were writhing underneath his touch, muttering his name in whines and whimpers. His mouth’s ministrations never halted, never stopped on your cunt – he made you soak in arousal, his tongue back on your clit and two of his digits teasing at your hole. Your hips rutted against him, careless of the way you shoved him deeper into you. He enjoyed it, you were aware – Hyunjin was neither scared nor incapable of holding down your hips to keep you still, to have his way with you, yet you learned he enjoyed feeling you fuck yourself against him on occasion, rutting and grinding your pussy against him to your liking, using him as nothing more than a tool for your pleasure. He enjoyed your desperation, your visible frustration – it was teasing malice under pretence of permitted control.

His fingers entered you with no resistance, wetness gushing out of you, your back arching into him, feeling a portion of possible pleasure with the curve of his hand, the pressure of his palm against your pubis. He kept a steady pace while rising to your chest, lips kissing wherever they lay, nibbling on skin, teeth grazing hardened nipples. The pads of his fingers caressing the cushion within you, prodding against it, eliciting sounds of you he dreamed of in his sleeps. Your voice whiny, breathy, hushed.

“Please… Hyunjin.”

He wasn’t one to deny you – had once been though learned the pleasures of giving into you. He understood without much more, with two of your words, not more but a plea, a hopeless attempt at asking for more, asking for something, anything; asking for him. You would never say the words – I want you; I need more of you; I want this to last forever; Stay – and yet Hyunjin liked to pretend it was the meaning behind your begging, the very core of your longing, your craving for him. Liked to pretend for feeling naïve himself to wish upon you, upon a life with you. If he pretended you wanted him as much as he wanted you it eased his aching heart, his yearning soul. If he pretended, he could bear himself a little more, the pain that final reality brought upon.

You were close, Hyunjin could feel it. Your walls were clenching around him in spasms, your voice a higher pitch, your legs on verge of giving out – you pleaded, further and further, his thrusting continued, increased in speed, his palm coming in contact with your clit with every movement – and he pulled away. Watched and watched you intently, and denying you the bliss of orgasm right when you’d swear to be tasting it on your tongue, right when it was within fingers reach. You whined out, long and drawn out, frustrated. Hyunjin has taken what you needed most when you needed it most – an irony within itself, seemingly his entire persona; disappearing when you most wished for him, after giving you a mere taste of it.

His fingers left you, frantic suddenly, remaining patience of his vanished. One would not blame him – the way you stared him down, desperation laced beneath your eyes, your lips caught between your teeth, your hands clinging onto him, pulling him closer, legs caging him in; anyone in love would have fallen far deeper, and he was no exception. His heart swelling at a sheer look at you, your touch igniting fires within him, so very untypical, so very strange. Though he didn’t have enough time to overthink it – you pulled him in for a kiss, deep and passionate, breathless. He melted into you, your mouth a shore his waters collided with, pulling him deeper into you, turning him to an addict.

His erection – painful and abandoned – lay hard between your bodies, cold against your thigh, tip against your core when Hyunjin shifted. He grew impatient, his very own tedious ministrations on you having weakened him just as much, more so, you’d argue. He was leaking, pearly white cum dripping down the length of his shaft, painting his blue veins in white, making you salivate at the sight alone. You arched into him, back lifting from the grass beneath you slightly, enough for Hyunjin to hook his hand beneath it, to draw you closer. The other hand guiding his tip against your entrance, spreading his precum against your slit before nudging in, finally, entering you slowly, inch by inch. You were sensitive, spent after simply teasing, Hyunjin pent up, denied – both of you would last laughable seconds if you only lost an ounce of control, of carefully tended composure. Overwhelming pleasure flooding your bodies, two whimpers of desperation merging into one at sheer contact – none of you moved yet and both of you reduced to a hopeless mess, embarrassing if the circumstances were different. Right this moment, with Hyunjin’s body atop yours, with his tip teasing at your cervix and his hands holding a tight grip on your flesh neither of you was clear minded enough to care. Lost in the other, indulging in the sight, in the scent and feel of skin against skin, wettened, laced in water and sweat, dripping pearls grazing shoulders and tummies and plush thighs, cold water everywhere.

And Hyunjin started moving. Fluid motions against you typical for him, body moving in soft waves always, whether he was walking or fucking into you. His hips gave you no chance of catching your breath – you felt losing control of your body as his own swam against you, pulling out of you until the tip to enter you entirely again, deeply, deeper with every thrust. Dignity, control, coherence left you bit by bit, with every kiss Hyunjin granted against your temple, onto your neck, littering you with wettened paths of his lips on your skin. With every further second you drowned into him, deeper and with no return, sinking meters of depth he presented you. Your hips desperate, chasing his own, your hands homeless, searching for a leverage, for a steady place to stabilize.

And tears rolled down your cheeks, wet and thick, droplets of water against your skin. More tears with every of Hyunjin’s thrusts, with every additional kiss, with every time his palm pressed onto your body harsher, as though scared you’d slip away from underneath his touch. His hips stuttered at the sight of you – entirely water, him having made you, wetness on your body; behind your lids, on your lips, wetness on your cunt. He had lay you in waters entirely, having lulled you into his world, having made you his, and his mind reeled off any sense. He was obsessed with you, addicted hopelessly. His body spasming, two of his digits toying at your clit desperately – he wouldn’t be able to hold his orgasm out much longer so hoping you would reach yours.

Your legs tightening against his torso, your nails clawing into him, daring to draw blood, painting desperation onto his body, your face contorting into pleasure, brows furrowed and mouth agape, head fallen into your neck – and you came in gushing wetness around him, coating him in your release, fluttering around his length enough to pull release out of him in spurts of white, coating your walls, wetting you further. You were messes, both of you, panting, chests heaving up and down – and he stayed. Calming down from your orgasm and Hyunjin hadn’t disappeared. His lingering touch on your body, his lips remaining on your skin, your jaw and neck and shoulders, licking over the bruises he'd drawn onto you. He stayed to lick your mixed release off you, lapping up your essence, basking in your scent, the taste of you. And his heart clenched when it was time to leave, after all – though not with a last longing kiss against your lips, slow and drawn out; maybe you should keep hoping, maybe you shouldn’t quit seeing him by the lake day by day, after all.

@reianagarcia @mixtape-racha @bbyboychanyeol @artisticbirb @fire-08 @lxverss @unlikelysublimekryptonite @aiko0invalid @salfetkablog @saintriots @boi-bi-ahaha @summer3sworld @bangchans-angel @jenos-eye-smiles @alnex05 @imwithurmother @yangjeonginswifee @hydroyaksha @starlit-rin @channiesgoodgirl @lizzetmv @poody1608 @fandems @stanskzsstuff @cypher-girlx @kayleigh-28 @jetblackbelle @agnes-king @seoseoya @lipstickandloveletters @viviixlyy @hanjisungsgirl @having-an-internal-crisis-rn @es-kay-zee @jeyelleohe @angelwonie @yvniek4ng @ppiri-bahng @bintificreads @svintsandghosts @llunapastell @sensitiveandhungry @minniesvenus @junebug032 @noellllslut @wolfennracha @unexceptional-h @like-a-diamondinthesky

@katsukis1wife

[hazelfoureyes]

What would be really cute is if a spell backfired temporarily turning alastor into the cursed cat alastor and the reader ends up fawning over him and taking care of him, not realizing its actually him. He's just loving all the attention from her 🤭

I love catlastor! Omg yes! Just a quick little piece while he’s so popular. That is so cute!!

It was, decidedly, not cute. A … raccoon? Mutant Fennec Fox? No, no it was more feline. But, hmm. Maybe hell had their own breeds of trash animals. Either way, you picked up the little creature. Red and black, stupid fucking smile, sharp teeth. It seemed to be shaking? No, vibrating? Quaking?? You struggled to keep it in your hands, but managed to tuck it under your arm like a football.

You had found it roaming the lobby, perhaps it was a resident’s … pet? It cocked it’s head, staring at you while you were staring at it from your bed.

“Psst Psst,” you offered it a piece of meat, but no response. Its eyes searched the room, seemingly not limited in their range of motion. With a screech it launched itself at the mounted deer head above the fireplace.

You pulled and tugged, its jaw locked onto the antlers. “Come on you little shit, come on,” You put your leg against the wall for leverage. Then your other leg. Soon you were hanging from the deer, too, by way of the tiny animal’s legs.

How was it so strong? Determination? Magic? Pure unbridled insanity? The ever dilated eyes seem to beg the latter.

Finally, it lost interest and you both dropped to the ground.

“Do… do you want scratches?”

It’s eyes blinked independently of eachother.

You reached out a trembling hand, focused entirely on the row of yellowed teeth grinning back at you.

With a well placed scratch behind it’s ear, the little creature softened and fell over onto it’s side like a horse about to die.

“Aww?” You wondered out loud, “You like that?” You scooped it up and got comfortable in the plush chair opposite the cold fireplace. “Only Lucifer would think a fireplace in hell made any sense,” you ran your hand down the length of the ball of fur and fangs, “He belongs on a travel size chess set, not designing hotels.”

Your hand jumped, “Are you purring? Wittle Gobwin hates Luci?” It’s tail wagged side to side, “Awww. Okay, yeah, you’re pretty cute.”

You don’t remember falling asleep, but you woke up gasping, struggling to expand your lungs fully. Looking down you found none other than the cannibal deer of the Pride Ring, Alastor, cuddled on your lap.

Too weak to move him, too scared to wake him, you wiggled yourself up enough to breath and pretended to be asleep. It was best, you thought correctly, that he could have the illusion of sneaking out undetected.

The next morning you passed him in the halls, unable to stop yourself from whispering “wittle gobwin.”

Luckily, you were a fast runner.

༻Masterlist༺

∰ Summoning the Horny Little Deer Cult: @nonetheartist , fizzled-phoenix , @tsunaki , @janchei , @wettiny-in-smutland , @moonmark98 , @hoebihoeshi , @fjorjestertealeaf , @pansexual-opera-house , @ive-no-idea-what-to-call-this , @roxxie-wolf , @polytheatrix , @lorddiabigmommymilkers , @backinthefkingbuildingagain , @harley2223-blog , @coffee-colored-hopeless-romantic , @poinappel , @midnightnoiserose , @spookieroz , @missmidorima , @phobophobular , @ivebeenthearchersstuff , @downbadforfictionalppl , @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx , @sleepylittledemon , @aether-th3-enby , @dontfuckbutimfab , @surusurusuru , @breathlessaura , @aperfectidiot , @certainlygay , @jth12 , @star-kujo-platinum , @ivebeenthearchersstuffn, @rubyninja1

🏹Alastor stalkers: @celestial-vomit , @amurtan

[moonselune]

Hey! Could you write something about jealous Gale, Wyll and Astarion, please? 💕 (Thank you!!)

jealous jealous boyyyyyyy I loved this so muchhhhhhh jealous prompts just make my brain go brrrrrr

Gale:

You had always admired Gale's prowess with magic. His spells were elegant, his incantations precise. Yet, on this particular day, as you walked through the bustling streets of Baldur's Gate, a different mage approached you, offering to teach you a new spell.

"Allow me," the mage said smoothly, his eyes lingering on you with more interest than was purely professional.

You hesitated, intrigued by the promise of new knowledge. Gale, walking beside you, stiffened noticeably. His jaw clenched as he watched the mage perform a simple cantrip, showing off a minor illusion with a flourish.

After the mage walked away, leaving you with a scroll and a promise to meet again, Gale turned to you, his eyes dark with barely restrained jealousy. "Why would you need someone else to teach you magic?" he asked, his voice tight.

You raised an eyebrow, a playful smile tugging at your lips as you tucked the scroll into your pack. "Gale, my love, are you jealous?"

"Of course not. It's just… I know your capabilities and it’s insulting to see someone else presume to teach you as if you were an amateur." He huffed, crossing his arms defensively. You stepped closer to him, placing a hand on his arm.

"You know you're the only teacher I could ever have," you said softly, looking up into his eyes. You smiled again and pressed a kiss to his cheek, moving to hover over his ear. "Your lessons are much more intimate and attentive."

His tense posture relaxed slightly, a small, satisfied smile playing at the corners of his mouth as a small blush bloomed across his cheeks.

"Very well, then," he said, his tone warming as he pulled you to his side, a hand snaking around your waist, "I have a few new spells in mind that I think you’ll find quite invigorating"

Wyll:

The vibrant melodies of a bard's lute filled the air as you walked through the marketplace. The bard's eyes lit up when he saw you, and he began to serenade you with a heartfelt tune. Before you knew it, he extended his hand, inviting you to dance.

Wyll, ever the gentleman, stood nearby, his eyes narrowing slightly as he watched the bard's antics. The bard spun you around gracefully, and for a moment, you were caught up in the music and the joy of the dance. But just as the bard pulled you closer, Wyll stepped in, intercepting the dance with a fluid, graceful motion.

"May I cut in?" Wyll asked, his voice polite but firm, not waiting for an answer as he took your hand and led you away from the bard.

You smiled up at him, amused by the possessive edge in his movements. "Wyll, are you jealous?"

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. "Jealous? No, no. Gentlemen don't get jealous."

You pretended to believe him, nodding solemnly. "Of course, how silly of me. I'm glad I have such a composed and unaffected partner."

Wyll smiled, spinning you around before pulling you close again. "Just remember who your real dance partner is," he murmured, his voice low and full of meaning.

You smiled again and pressed a kiss to his lips, but to your surprise he dipped you over his leg and deepened it. Kissing you passionately before lifting you back up. You giggled and pressed your face to his chest in slight embarrassment, trying to hide your rosy red cheeks. He laughed and put a hand on your back, definitely not sending a glare to the bard who had seen the whole thing.

Astarion:

Astarion had always been charmingly possessive, but today his jealousy was more biting. As you spoke with an attractive merchant, Astarion's eyes darkened with jealousy. Later, when you returned to him, he greeted you with a cold, cutting remark.

"Enjoying your time with every attractive stranger who crosses your path?" he sneered, his eyes flashing with a mix of hurt and anger. "Or are we just so deperate for attention that we will take any measly means of it."

You bristled at his tone, your own temper flaring. He had been acting like this all afternoon and you had had enough. "What is your problem, Astarion? Why are you being so foul?"

Instead of answering, he turned away, his shoulders tense. You threw your hands up in the air in frustration and stormed off, your heart heavy with hurt. You walked a few metres outside of camp, Scratch diligently following you, and sat on a fallen tree. Scratch put his head in your lap as you stroked him for comfort.

It wasn't long before you heard footsteps behind you. Astarion appeared, his usual confident demeanor replaced with a look of remorse. Scratch let out a low growl, the dog being rather attached to you and sensing how this was going to play out.

You didn't look at him, just remained petting Scratch and looking out into the forest. "What do you want Astarion, or are you just here to shame me some more?"

"I'm sorry," he said softly, his voice lacking its usual sharpness and trembled with an emotion he was unfamiliar with - guilt? Shame? "I was out of line."

You stopped petting Scratch and turned to him, your eyes searching his. He looked downtrodden and overall quite pathetic, his usual bravado nowhere to be seen. "Why do you do this, Astarion? Why do you push me away when you're jealous?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair and he walked to you, dropping to his knees. Scratch eyed him with slight irritation as he pushed him out of his spot, but he soon became distracted by a squirrel that ran across the path and he left the two of you to it.

"It's because I care about you more than I care to admit. The thought of losing you to someone else.... it.. it.. terrifies me. Please, I can't lose you" Astarion begged, as he held your hands in your lap, looking up at you with wet red eyes.

You softened, leaning towards him, brushing a strand of his pale curled locks behind his ear. "You won't lose me, Astarion. But you need to trust me."

He nodded, resting his head in your lap. "I know. I promise I'll try to be better. Just… don't ever leave me."

You combed your fingers through his hair, a small smile on your lips as you felt the sincerity in his words. "I won't. Not ever."

my hands slipped and I accidentally made Astarion's a bit angsty - or should I say Ass-starion, am I right.?... I'll leave now.. - Seluney xoxox

[honey-milk-depresso]

okey so it my first time writing a request T^T but i absolutely love your batboys fics so i wanted to ask about batboy x scarlet witch reader ｡ﾟ(ﾟ´ω`ﾟ)ﾟ｡

Scarlet Witch = Baddiest of the Baddies ❤️ I love her

Main 3 Batboys with a Scarlet Witch s/o (GN)

Dick Grayson

Talk about being such a total hottie! That’s what he said out loud when he saw you for the first time. But who can blame him when you’re so cool using your insane witchcraft powers? Absolutely no one.

Dick finds you so cool: when you conjure up spells and hover about in the air like a ethereal being from above (and you are to him), he can’t help but be absolutely in awe of you. In other words, he’s your biggest simp, he’s absolutely smitten for you.

You know how cartoon witches have their own evil minion beside them? Dick’s acting like that with you whenever you two are on a mission or on a patrol.

“Nightwing, hand me my spell book so I can put this demon in place.”

“ANYTHING FOR YOU, S/O—”

But… he also feels sorry for you. There were times you just couldn’t take the stress of things and when he came into your room to talk, he found himself in a completely different world you created out of your power as a form of escapism and engulf yourself in your own imaginary world to shield yourself away from the harsh realities of your life. While impressive… he sympathises.

He doesn’t have powers like you, but when he was younger he used to dream in his sleep he was still with his parents at the circus, living the life. But he’s grown from that to know when to move on. If something unfortunate or even small has happened to you, he’ll always be there in your little sphere of your imaginary world, whispering sweet things about how things will be okay to hopefully get you to open up to him and that you don’t have to always rely on your powers to feel better.

He’ll always be here for you…

…and he’s completely downbad for you. But he loves you is all that matters- <3

Jason Todd

And he probably liked you immediately because you wear red and you have a shade of red in your name. Jason won’t be a simp immediately, but as time goes on I bet you the sum of Bruce Wayne’s net worth that he’ll be on his knees for you everyday.

Your witch powers are just so cool? Hello??? He loves going on patrols or missions with you just to see you in action. I’m also very convinced that Jason has thought of asking you to join the Outlaws (either version). You’d make a perfect addition.

Like Dick, he probably sympathises on your escapism habits through using your powers to create an illusion of an imaginary world suited just only for you, and probably a lot more. He didn’t have a very good upbringing, and a lot of time while his parents were arguing and the environment of his home got too scary, he’ll shut himself out and dream of himself in his own little world to escape the situation around him. It’s just that for you, you take that to a whole new level.

Jason, while he understands your reasons for this, he knows by experience it’s not healthy. You’ve got people around you who you can confide and if you feel insecure to share your feelings, he’s there for you. You shouldn’t feel ashamed to tell him.

He’s not so good with words, but he’ll sit there and listen if you want him to. He’ll hold your hand in his and hopefully get you to open yourself up more to him and confide in him instead of relying solely on your powers.

Overall, he’s in love with you. <3

Tim Drake

Tim finds your powers really interesting (and cool). He’s always asking questions about them: “How does it feel when you use astral projection?” “Have you ever travelled across multiworlds?” “Probability manipulation? How does that work? Mathematically or…”

Yeah, he’ll be yapping a lot when he’s around you. But he does find you quite dangerous if you’re not on his side, luckily you are though so he thinks your powers are super cool but also super life threatening if you aren’t careful but he trusts that you can handle your own powers.

Tim also likes to ask about your witchcraft and magic (and maybe his D&D brain is sparking when he asks about it), he always wants to be beside you to see the kind of spell books you’re reading. You’d also be surprise of how many languages he knows if the book is in Latin or some otherworldly language, like how does he knows?? Let’s be real, he knows just to impress you-

Oof… escapism? When has he not ever try to escape reality in his life? Out of the three, this habit of yours hits him too hard to home. When he was a child and up until now, him sleeping for the very little moments he has before he needs to get to work is his own form of escapism and imagining things are okay.

He feels a bit hypocritical for saying this to you, but he knows it’s not always healthy doing that. Tim, like the rest, will sit beside you in your little bubble of illusion, hugging you close and kissing you softly, asking whether or not you want him to share your feelings to him and that you can confide in him.

He just wants you to know you’re not alone, and that he’ll always be there for you if you need him. <3

Reblogs help! ^^

[yantako]

Hello! Can i request yandere Malleus , Floyd and Kalim with an s/o who cant feel fear? (Its not that they are brave or anything its a real problem in their brain that they of course cannot fix)

Hi there! Thank you so much for the request!

I have definitely heard of this brain disorder before and honestly, it is really scary to think about it. Not sure if I'm doing it justice though, please forgive me if it doesn't sound like the condition! ><

Anyway, without further ado, let's begin!

Warning: Yandere and dubious elements.

Yandere with a S/O who can't feel fear

ft. Malleus, Floyd & Kalim

Malleus Draconia

• When you two first met, he was surprised that you smiled at him instead of being shocked or scared of him.

• However, because of such a reaction, he grows an interest in you for being so 'brave'.

• Everything would go well with his talks with you, getting to know you better and all, and slowly he started developing feelings for you.

• He'd always known you for being fearless about everything, even in the dangerous situations that you sometimes put yourself through from what he has heard from your stories.

• However, he started to feel curious about what your fearful face might look like and decided to play a small trick on you. Would maybe a giant dragon suffice in scaring you?

• When he saw your first reaction was lacking in fear, he'd try again with bigger and bigger moves. Malleus could feel his tiny smirk slowly distorting into a frown filled with worry and pain. It only became full-fledged anger at the point where it seems as if you didn't even care when the dragon was about to kill you [ of course, with you trapped with no room for escape ]. You didn't even seem remotely afraid as you tried to think of a way to combat this. However, when the situation is so bleak, you used your rational mind to think of the most painless way to go, and that is to tank the hardest hit in hopes of a one-shot KO.

• When you were about to be hit, Malleus immediately stopped the illusion and merely hugged you tightly. He had just wanted to see another side of you but ended up making himself feel like a disaster for putting you through that. He even had some thoughts if you would just give up your life so easily, why didn't you call him to help you?

• You felt pleasantly surprised that he was suddenly in front of you. Happy to see him, you gave him a smile, but also a knowing look when you realised what was going on just from his expression. It's about time you tell him about it.

• When he hears about your condition, his heart sunk.

• From then on, he has you kept by him the entire time. He had a mindset that if you can't feel fear, you won't know your dangers. It only made him more fearful for you.

• He becomes a lot more possessive over you and warier of the people around you, going so far as to cast spells on you without your knowledge.

• He becomes way more protective each time you get injured, on the basis that you cant feel fear even if you explained to him multiple times that you do know your dangers.

• He would do anything to keep you protected at all costs.

Floyd Leech

• Shrimpy! Aren't you scared of me?

• You just witness him punching a bloody student in a secluded area in school. Of course, you did stare for a while and wanted to leave as you presumed this to be troublesome and dangerous for you if you remained.

• However, this tall eel immediately noticed you and dropped the student he was holding. His eyes glinted as if he saw a brand-new toy being served up to him.

• He peered down at you threateningly after cornering you at a wall. However, even as he did that, you didn't show as big of a reaction as he wanted to see. Weren't you supposed to be squirming under him like a worm? Hey, why are you looking away when he's glaring at you!

• At first he thought it was very boring that you gave him such a lukewarm reaction, but when he figured that you were trying to find a way to escape calmly, his curiosity peaked again. He understood that normal people would be in a state of panic and give him their fullest attention in case he would hit them, however, he didn't feel any sense of fear from you but rather, a very cold way of ignoring him.

• With his interests piqued, he decided to let you go after attempting to scare you with his threats. He found it amazing that you showed no signs of fear in such a situation and decided to make his next days fun in school by harassing you.

• He continuously placed you in dangerous situations, even to the point of near-death situations, to simply observe and find entertainment. Well, that is until you actually got a near-death experience which scared the fuck outta him.

• Looking at your pale and weak figure lying in the infirmary, he thought about how much danger he had put you through. Regrets came washing over him. Initially, he thought it was fun and entertaining to watch your fearless gait. But now, he could hear alarms ringing in his head whenever he thinks you are in danger. In some magical and mysterious manner, somehow, he became smitten for you.

• Ever since then after you recovered, Floyd seemed to have a flipped his treatment of you. He would protect you fiercely from even the smallest threats, growling and even resorting to violence even at small teasings people do to you.

• He finally felt as if he had something he needed to do, something motivating him. He had to protect you even if he had to resort to violence and intimidation. He finally got a spark in his heart and he would do his all to protect this spark. Finally, something he could not get bored of. If you aren't scared by his actions, that means you allowed him to do so, right?

• Shrimpy ignited something in him, so you better accept it, okay?

Kalim Al Asim

• Hm? He doesn't understand it. What do you mean you can't feel fear?

• Even after explaining it to him, he still does not understand it.

• That is, until you were kidnapped because of him. When he found you all battered up but yet lighting up when you see him. He had questioned you all the essentials. Why didn't you scream? Why didn't you call for help? Why do you still look so... okay about this situation?

• You chuckled as you joke. "At least I wasn't killed or hit so badly."

• Kalim stared at you for awhile before getting reminded of what you had told him before.

• Ever since then, he decided to take your safety into his own hands, having bodyguards around you and even giving you your own aide so that you could be protected. He just wanted to keep you safe, so please allow this of him, alright?

• Privacy? Is that more important than your safety, darling?

[theonceandfuturequeenoftarts]

There’s something different about Potter.

Draco heard the other boy had spent the summer before seventh year at some sort of student duelling program in Russia. Maybe he was hit with a lingering giddiness spell. Or he hit his head and is even more of an idiot than before.

Stupid Potter, with his stupid smiles.

The other boy is often writing letters or in the owlery, and the amount of owlpost he receives is far greater than in previous years. Weasley and Granger keep giving him looks when he gets a letter or a package, too. Maybe Potter made a new friend and the golden trio’s about to fall apart.

(Draco keeps his fingers crossed for that option.)

The first morning that’s chilly enough to necessitate a muffler, it all becomes clear. 

Draco spots Potter, Granger, and the Weasel in the courtyard during a free period. “Oi, Potter – what’s with the scarf? Gryffindor doesn’t want you any more?”

Instead of the expected red and gold, the muffler wrapped around Potter’s stupid head is navy with black trim.

Weasley, predictably, turns a startling shade of red; Potter and Granger roll their eyes at him.

“Wow, Malfoy, top-notch insult. Slytherin’s best never ceases to impress,” Potter deadpans.

“That’s one way to say you know nothing about the colours of other magical schools,” Granger snipes. “How expectedly Anglocentric of you.”

“Harry’s boyfriend is–”

What. “Boyfriend?”

“Ron…” Potter sighs, and oh, he is blushing.

Draco sneers. “Oh, a boyfriend at Koldovstoretz, eh? I’ve heard that one before.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Weasley growls.

“How pathetic, making up a fake boyfriend.”

“Why would I make up a boyfriend?” Potter says incredulously. “I don’t care whether other people know about Vee or not.”

“Just ignore him, boys,” Granger says, and the three do just that, to Draco’s indignation.

Pshah, like anyone would be interested in dating Potter.

…And what kind of a name is ‘Vee,’ anyway?

—

But, as becomes obvious in early November, someone actually is interested in dating Potter. Or the scruffy git is so desperate to prove his boyfriend is real that he has someone pretend to send him a Howler love letter. Either way, it’s downright embarrassing to hear across the Great Hall - almost enough to put him off his breakfast.

Potter opens the red parchment cautiously, but relaxes as soon as he hears the voice it contains.

“Hello, darling,” the Howler says in a smooth, cultured voice, with the barest hint of an accent. Draco swears it sounds a little familiar. “I wanted to wish you good luck for your first quidditch game of the season. I know you’ll do phenomenally. One day, I’ll be in the stands, but for now know I am there in spirit, zolotse.”

Several other students swoon and start tittering to each other over the romantic cheesy message. Really, how sweet crass to send that schlock as a Howler, forcing everyone to hear it.

Stupid Potter and his stupid Russian boyfriend.

He was planning to cheer for Ravenclaw in today’s match anyway, but now he really hopes they crush Potter and his merry band of Gryffindorks.

(They do not. Draco is irritated for the rest of the weekend.)

—

The Hogwarts Express is nearly empty of students excited to be home for Yule, and Draco is doing a final check of the carriages when he sees it. He rushes outside to make sure it wasn’t an illusion some brat placed on the window, but no. That’s Tom Riddle, five-time IMC schools' duelling champion and Koldovstoretz’s wunderkind. And he’s embracing Potter.

Draco must make some sound, because Potter is suddenly facing him with his wand out.

“Malfoy, what the hell?”

“That’s– You–” he gapes. “Tom Riddle is your boyfriend?? He’s not Russian at all!”

“Who is this?” Riddle says, frowning at Draco, before turning the frown on Potter. “You haven’t told your friends we’re dating?”

Potter wrinkles his nose. “That’s not my friend, that’s Draco Malfoy.”

Rude.

Understanding dawns in Riddle’s eyes and the frown dissipates.

Doubly rude.

“And everyone knows we’re dating. You sent a Howler to me at breakfast - the whole school heard it." Riddle looks so damn smug about that. "And people keep telling me to stop talking about it because of how ‘disgustingly soppy I am over you’ – their words.”

Riddle gives him a warm look. “Zaichik…”

“Your boyfriend’s name is ‘Vee!’” Draco insists. “How would anyone know that meant Tom freaking Riddle??”

“Because that’s what I call him? That’s what he likes to be called?” Potter says slowly, staring at Draco like he's grown an extra head. “I wasn’t aware all of Hogwarts needed to know his full name.”

He throws his arms up. “Unbelievable. How do you function on a day-to-day basis,” he mutters as he walks over to his mother, whose presence helps settle his vexed nerves. 

His only consolation is that he won’t have to see or hear about Potter for the next few weeks.

—

The first morning back from winter holidays, Potter receives another Howler. 

“Good morning, solnyshko. I’ve just gotten back to St. Petersburg and thought I’d drop you a line to wish you a good start to the term. I’m already counting the days until I see you again. 

“Yours, Tom Marvolo Riddle.”

“What?” someone squawks. 

Several different voices shout, “Tom Riddle?!” 

The sound of Potter’s embarrassed groan carries over the din. “Vee…”

Draco sits back and enjoys the chaos. At least one of those two love-struck idiots understands how these things work.

[powdermelonkeg]

Personal headcanons for Gale's tower layout:

5F: An astronomical observatory with an orrery in it. The stardome is enchanted to reflect whatever sky and weather Gale wishes; if he wants to see the stars in Kythorn, that's what it shows him. If he wants rainy weather to read to, guess what. The stars reflect whatever position the orrery's been set to. There's a walkable ledge around the exterior of the roof for Tara's pigeon-hunting.

4F: A portal room, surrounded by three guest bedrooms and a bathroom. The bedrooms are themed: one smells like a sea breeze and faces the harbor, colored with sunset shades with gold accents, one smells like rose potpourri and fresh grass, mostly pastel purple with brass, one smells faintly spiced, deep maroon and bronze. Morena prefers the rose one. Each one comes equipped with a vanity that has three (magic) mirrors, a wardrobe that removes wrinkles and stains of anything hung in it and repairs minor stitches, a set of candles that never burn down their wicks, and curtains that, when drawn, enact a silent barrier around the room. The floors are polished hardwood with plush, patterned carpets. The bathroom is self-cleaning, has running water on command, whatever temp you want it, warms towels for you, and has a magic mirror (magic mirrors in my headcanon show hairstyles and things you WANT to try before you actually try them out).

3F: Gale's floor. His bedroom, a walk-in closet, a room for Tara, and a personal bathroom. Gale's bedroom has silence-spelled drapes, glowing crystal sconces he can dim with a wave, a desk, a large canopy bed (the one he summons during his last night in Act II), a small bookshelf for whatever he's currently reading that doubles as his nightstand, and a plush window seat. The walk-in closet is neatly sorted, with everything from travel robes to finery to wear to the annual Blackstaff Ball, and has the same enchantments in it as the guest room wardrobes, with the added effect of making anything put in it inexplicably smell like a library. His bathroom is just like the guest ones, but larger. The bathtub inside, when activated, always assumes he wants his bath piping hot and lavender-scented. Tara's room is smaller, but fully designed for her little cat body. Scratching posts, cat-sized perches and comfy cat towers, and a little bookcase and window seat of her own. She keeps her space VERY neat, in contrast to Gale's "organized chaos" sort of living.

2F: This is the floor we see in Gale's Act II illusion. The packed library, the messy desk, the private study, the balcony... He sorts his books by topic, then by date rather than author. Tara is appalled by it. The balcony has a minor enchantment to keep weather, pigeons, and seagulls off of it. Tara is upset at the lack of birds; it's SUCH a cozy napping spot, and you're going to take away her free breakfast, too? Gale's compromise was the 5th floor's walkable ledge, which is a prime pigeon-hunting perch.

1F: The entry floor. It's got a sitting room to entertain guests with, and a large, well-kitted kitchen. The dishwashing basin does the washing for Gale. On the wall in the sitting room, there are two notable paintings: one is of young, 10-year-old Gale in a cape, standing proudly with both his parents and holding his first-ever proper wizard staff. He's TRYING to have Tara on his shoulders, he insisted, but she's just too big, so he's wound up leaning forward where she awkwardly perches on his back. He has a snaggle tooth. The other painting is of a much older Gale, dressed finely and standing with his mother, smiling. It was made before he got the beard, so he looks a decent bit younger than he is. Tara is wrapped around Morena's shoulders like one of those feather boas, but she's headbutting Gale's shoulder affectionately.

B1: Gale's wine cellar and well-stocked pantry. He collects all kinds of wines from all over Faerûn, usually getting them from merchants that pass through Waterdeep, but he's not opposed to cracking open an expensive vintage with the right company. There's a locked cabinet labeled "in case of Elminster" that contains some cheeses and wine to offer the older wizard, that way Elminster doesn't raid Gale's pantry when he's not looking. If you don't feed Elminster, he WILL feed himself at your expense.

B2: Gale's spell workshop, scroll storage, alchemy lab, and vault. Gale's not especially well-versed in alchemy (I think Wyll's got dibs on that, personally), but he DOES mix himself up some Arcane Cultivation elixirs from time to time. And if a potion recipe intrigues him enough, he likes to have a place on hand to try things out. The vault is well-guarded with spells, but, sadly, pretty empty; it just has his savings there now, where once it held all sorts of enchanted items he'd picked up through his studies and younger adventuring days.

An additional note: Tara has perches all throughout the house, on every floor, basically anywhere Gale spends a lot of time doing things. The cushions that are hers are magically heated and smell like tea and mint.

[dcmainlybillythoughts]

Consider if you will: Billy gets hit by some spell that sort of shows the gods who are in his head All the Time. Not exactly though, mote like misty gray human shapped blobs. Like someone took the Smooth tool in photo shop to them to erase all the details and faces. They still have different body shapes, postures, and voices though. Everyone can see all seven- wait seven?

Everyone there, especially those who don't normally have bodies of their own are Very excited to be there with Sort Of Bodies. Mercury immediately jumped on the table and started to sing while doing the Freestyle Dance Teacher dance. Atlas and Zues are brawling in the back and Hercules cheers. Achilles talking to Billy who is Not Responding while trying to figure out how to copy the dances Mercury is doing on the table. Solomon is simply giving some long winded lecture that Billy is already tuning out as he introduces each of his patrons to his coworkers and says, "and yes. They are always Like This. 24/7. Actually I'm surprised Hercules isn't trying to over power Mercury's singing with his own."

Hal points to the 7th and final figure who is yet to be introduced, A very small and skinny figure tucked between Marvel's cape and his legs, face to blurred and smooth to know but clearly glaring and body language frightening, and asks who this one is and what power they give. Thinking fast and maybe with a touch of help from Solomon sending a bit of extra power, Marvel says, "oh this? He's shy and doesn't like his name being given out. And he may not be the strongest or the bravest or the fastest, but he is undoubtedly one of the most important blessings I have. The Heart and Mind of a child. He keeps me honest and nags me about doing the right thing simply because it's The Right Thing. He also reminds me of the beauty and wonder in the world in small and simple ways. Like the time he got so excited about finding a 5 leaf clover that he made me preserve it and keep it in my pocket because the 5th leaf *clearly* means it's *extra* lucky. Or he'll point out things like how pretty the sun set is or how nice ice cream is on a hot day and just. All the little things that remind me of why I fight in the first place. He's a good kid, even if he didn't get to be a kid for very long." Billy feels a bit awkward patting his own(?) Head but he's got to sell the illusion.

Everyone is awwing almost enough to not notice when Murcury starts singing "FROM THE WINDOW, TO THE WALL!" And gets the the shit smacked our of him by Achilles before he can finish the next verse.

This is so cute. Imagine that when Cap was introducing Billy he put emphasis on his job by telling them "He is the only difference between me and Black Adam" because that is why Shazam picked him.

Also I am living for the chaos the gods are bringing to the table, or on the table if you're Mercury.

[vbecker10]

Loki's Silent Sentry (Part 3)

Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 / Part 7

Pairing: Loki x female reader (y/n)

Summary: You are not just a soldier in Asgard's Royal Army, you are Lieutenant Y/L/N, Prince Loki's personal guard, his sentry and you are not supposed to fall in love with him. If you followed your training properly, you should never have even spoken to him. As a sentry, you are expected to remain silent and invisible as you shadow your appointed member of the royal family or member of the court protectively throughout their daily tasks.

Rumors (that happen to be true) begin to circulate through the palace that you serve the younger prince of Asgard both outside and inside his chambers. There is little you can do once word of your off duty activities spread through every maid, cook, gardener and seamstress in the palace. You soon find even the soldiers in your own company are now questioning how exactly you had come to earn your seemingly quick rise to lieutenant.

As the annual Winter Solstice Ball approaches, you come to the heartbreaking realization that your relationship with Loki must come to an end if you are both to fulfill your duties.

Warnings: Angst, arguing, Thor trying to be a better brother, Odin being a terrible father

A/N: I know this was only supposed to be three parts but you guys know not to believe me when I say stuff like that lol... enjoy 💚

You close your eyes as he pulls you tighter to him, you are sure he can feel your heart pounding in your chest. "Are you really here?" you ask in a whisper. You fear he will vanish like one of his illusions the second you let go of him.

"I'm here my love," he reassures you. He kisses the top of your head and you look up at him. "Follow me," he says in a low voice.

You smile and nod without caring where you are going, you will always follow him anywhere.

He takes your hand and leads you into the room he came out of. You can see he has been busy with his magic, his abilities have always thrilled and impressed you. The magically altered office is twice as large inside as it should be and is an exact replica of his chambers. You look around in awe and can't help but wonder if this isn't an illusion but one of his transportation spells.

He smiles with pride at your reaction and puts his arm around your waist, pulling you close to him again.

"How did you do all of this?" you ask. "Its amazing... you're amazing," you tell him as you turn in his arms to face him.

"I'm afraid the young corporal spent has a large portion of her time this week dutifully guarding my empty office," he jokes and you laugh with him.

"Gods, is that why you requested a new sentry?" you ask.

He smiles mischievously, "Sergeant Tones paid far too much attention to my comings and goings." He strokes your cheek slowly and says, "Now, enough about them," he leans down to kiss your lips and you kiss him back, gripping the fabric of his shirt. Without breaking the kiss, he waves his hand slightly and your armor suddenly vanishes. You smile against his lips, feeling the added weight disappear and his hands rest on the back of your shirt.

You look up at him and say, "I've missed you so much. Did your mother tell you?"

He nods and takes your hand, leading you to the sofa where you sit close together, his arm around your waist and your hand on his knee. "She told me," he answers. "There are only two people in this world I have ever been able to confide in, you and my mother." He pauses for a moment then says, "After you left the throne room, my mother and I went to her private library. I needed her to know how much I care for you, how much you mean to me. I was still afraid my father would find a reason to send you away somewhere but she promised me she would protect you."

"She's been very kind to me," you tell him, smiling to reassure him that you are okay. "You're very lucky to have a mother like her."

He nods in agreement but you can see something is weighing him down. "Loki, what's wrong?" you ask in a worried tone.

"I hate this," he says after a moment. "I hate not being able to see you and when I do, I'm barely allowed to look at you. I hate being able to give you orders but not speak to you. I hate having to pretend that you mean nothing to me. I don't know how much longer I can stand to be without you."

You kiss him and you feel him relax slowly in your arms. "Our passing moments together will never be enough for me but I promise you, I savor every second I see you or hear your voice," you tell him.

He smiles at your response then you can see his attention shift and he says, "I need to tell you something."

"You can tell me anything," you remind him.

"Your paperwork for the transfer wasn't denied... I never submitted it to your captain," he admits, "And I was never going to."

You look at him in shock and he continues.

"I'm so sorry I lied to you. I know it was wrong and I swear on all the Gods that I've never lied to you before but... I just couldn't let you leave me," he says, you can hear the worry in his voice.

You can't help but let out a laugh and he shifts uncomfortably. "I'm sorry," you smile but he still looks concerned. "A part of me was desperately hoping you would somehow delay the transfer. I never wanted to leave you," you admit. "I was a fool for thinking if we were apart, I would be able to move on."

He smiles and kisses you again, his hands traveling up and down the back of your thin shirt. "Stay here with me tonight," he says between kisses. He doesn't say it as a prince ordering his sentry but you obey his request without a second thought.

You stand quietly in front of the queen's office, eagerly awaiting the end of her current meeting. She had informed you this morning that her last meeting was going to be with her youngest son. You couldn't wait to see him, even though you knew it would be brief and he would be unable to speak to you. Any second you saw him outside of the time the two of you stole was appreciated greatly.

It is almost three months since your new Sunday night routine with Loki began. He would slip through the palace with ease after he dismissed his sentry for the night and you would take a left at the top of the stairs after his mother released you.

While hidden away, surrounded by his illusion, the two of you could pretend everything was perfect. You love him with all of your heart and he loves you back just as fiercely. He would kiss you and hold you and tell you that you were his but the moment the sun came up, everything would change. You always did your best to hold back your emotions as you put your armor on and returned to your silent duties.

It devastated you every time you needed to leave him but you kept your pain to yourself. You were afraid to ruin the small window of time you had with wishes and false hope that things could somehow be different.

You follow the queen as she moves gracefully through the long marble halls of the palace, her dress flowing around her. You groan internally when a third council member stops to greet her, delaying your arrival at the prince's office yet again. She nods politely at his failed attempt at what you assume was a joke and kindly excuses herself.

After what seems like hours, you finally you turn the corner and his office is in sight, your heart races knowing you will see him even if it is just for a moment.

You can see his young sentry leaning against the wall behind her and remember how heavy your armor was when you first started. She hears you approaching and stands at attention. You signal for her to knock and announce the queen's presence which she does quickly, it is easy to see how nervous she is. You can't fault her for being anxious around the royal family, especially when you are terrified of the king and less than fond of the older prince.

The door opens and you hold back the smile that tries to slip free when he steps out into the hall. "Hello mother," he smiles at her and she embraces him.

"Good luck with your meeting," she says after taking a step back.

You look between the queen and Loki in shock when you realize she is talking to you. "I'm sorry your highness?" you say quietly.

"Prince Loki has something to discuss with you, Lieutenant Y/L/N. Corporal Glasgow will be temporarily assigned to me for the remainder of the day," she says.

You and the corporal exchange a quick look with a mix of surprise and confusion. It was not protocol to simply switch sentries, especially in the middle of a shift but neither of you were in a position to question the queen. The new guard bows to Queen Frigga and Prince Loki, then without another word they leave the way you came.

You find yourself standing in front of Loki, completely alone and unsure why. It was only Tuesday, had something happened that couldn't wait until Sunday? Your mind suddenly races with all the horrid things that keep you awake at night. Had someone discovered the two of you have been sneaking off together? Were you being sent to a post far from the palace? Had he finally gotten engaged to a woman his father and the kingdom would approve of? Both Loki and the queen were far too calm for any of these to be true but you couldn't push the thoughts away.

He motions for you to follow him and you close the door upon entering his office. Your fears subside momentarily when Loki pulls you into his arms. You close your eyes tightly as he whispers, "I have news."

"Good news or bad?" you ask hesitantly, pulling away slightly but his arms hold you to him.

He smiles in response, "Very good news my love." He takes your hand and the thoughts that had been swirling around your mind fade in an instant. "Come, let me show you," he says, you can hear the joy and excitement in his voice as he leads you through his office.

He pulls out the leather chair behind his large desk, "Sit." You pause before doing as he asks, sometimes it was hard to break protocol even when you were with Loki. You had never sat on this side of his desk before and hadn't realized that until this moment.

"Relax," he says with a light laugh. "I promise you, no one will barge in and find you sitting here."

"Sorry," you let out a nervous laugh. "I guess I'm still a bit worried that your father will banish me to Migard or somewhere."

He kneels next to you and takes your hand. "I would never let him send you away, you know that right?" he asks.

You nod, "I know." You clear your throat, pushing away that fear and ask, "What did you want to show me?"

He smiles so wide you can't help but smile in response. He gets up quickly and grabs the large book on his desk, picking it up he places it right in front of you. "What is this?" you ask, opening the cover. "Asgardian Marriage Law..." you read the cover slowly. "Loki, what-" you start to ask.

"I found it," he is too excited to let you finish your question.

You look at him for a moment, unsure what he is talking about when suddenly it clicks. "You found... you found a loop hole?" you ask, your heart beating faster.

He nods quickly and he repeats, "I found it."

You pace anxiously outside of the throne room, your heart pounding in your chest as you wait for the grand council to convene. "Please stop, Y/N," Loki says as he leans on the wall across from the tall doors. "You are making me dizzy."

"Sorry," you walk over to him. "I'm just nervous. What if he says no? What if he gets angry again?" It was only a day ago when Loki spoke to you in his office but in that short time, your mind had invented hundreds of scenarios that filled you with dread.

Loki seems quite the opposite, he has never been more sure of anything as he holds his research calmly. He extends his free hand and you take it, "Y/N, if I know my father as well as I think I do, he will say no and he will be angry."

"That is not making me feel better," you frown but he chuckles.

"Do not give up on me now," he says. "I told you I will find a way to make you mine and I intend to keep that promise."

You smile at his words and move closer but before you can kiss him the large doors to the throne room are swung open. You pull away from Loki and swallow hard as your nerves ramp up again. He keeps hold of your hand and leads you into the throne room.

The room comes alive around you as the council members that line the room begin to whisper frantically to each other but you pay no attention to them. Your eyes are fixed on Odin, sitting atop the tall throne at the rear of the room. Frigga stands to his right and Thor, in his full dress uniform to his left. Loki squeezes your hand tighter and you are unsure if he is trying to calm you or himself.

The two of you come to a stop at the base of the stairs leading to the throne and Odin holds up a hand to silence the council. Loki bows briefly out of respect for his parents and you kneel as you've been trained.

After a moment or an eternity, you can't tell, Odin says, "Rise".

You stand but keep your head down slightly, knowing Loki is the one who needs to address the council. You are simply here because he wanted you to be, but this isn't where you belong and you know that.

"Why did you call for the grand council to meet?" Odin asks and you look at Loki who gives you a small smile before facing his parents.

"I've called you all here to discuss the marriage requirements for the second child of the king," Loki says.

"The laws are the same for all children of the crown," an older man to your left calls out. The crowd mumbles amongst themselves in agreement but Odin holds his hand up again.

Loki continues, "I am not speaking about the laws that my older brother is meant to follow. Prince Thor is heir to the throne, the next king of Asgard but I am not on the same path."

A few more hushed whispers are heard but it doesn't stop Loki. "There is no argument that the heir must marry someone who is of a certain status and has the approval of the grand council as well as the king and queen," he says and Thor nods, knowing that is his fate. "What I am bringing to the court's attention is that the rules for the second child, the spare, are not the same," he pauses for a second, "And they never were."

The council members all begin talking at once, denying Loki's claim that he is not to be held to the same rules as Thor. The throne room fills with voices and Loki looks around as if he is becoming lost. You squeeze his hand to get his attention and when he looks at you, you reach up and kiss his cheek. You know you shouldn't but he needs to know you support and believe in him.

As soon as your lips touch his cheek, he smiles but Odin stands up, causing the whole room to go silent in an instant. The queen gently places her hand on his arm and he slowly sits without saying a word but it is obvious your display of affection for Loki is not appreciated. After a moment, he waves for Loki to continue.

Loki takes a deep breath and begins where he left off, "I am not suggesting that the second son or daughter of the royal family is free to many anyone. I am merely stating that the rules are not the same for the heir as they are for additional children."

"And what are the requirements for the son who is not the heir?" Thor asks, you are surprised that he genuinely sounds curious.

Before Loki can answer, a woman you always found especially condescending says, "Does it matter? This soldier will never meet them."

Laughter spreads through the council and you look down at your boots as you feel your face flush. Loki squeezes your hand again and you look up, raising your head high.

"I would like to know, that is why it matters," Thor says simply and the laughter stops. He offers his younger brother an encouraging smile, "Continue, please."

Loki answers Thor's question, "The council is of course aware of the numerous rules that surround choosing a spouse for the heir, but the rules for the second son or daughter in the royal family are the same as those written for the children of council members."

Several low whispers begin to fill the room but Loki keeps talking over them. "It is true," he looks at you briefly before turning back to his parents. "Lieutenant Y/L/N does not currently have the rank to become my wife but in a few short years, she will."

"This can not be true," a voice off to your right says.

"It is, I am allowed to marry a soldier from an established military family who is ranked captain or higher. Y/N's family has served Asgard for generations, several members of her immediate family are high ranking officers in our army or royal guard and she is only one rank shy of becoming a captain herself," he explains.

The whispers become louder until the council members are shouting amongst themselves. A few voices in favor of acknowledging the forgotten rule rise above the others and you dare for a moment to feel excited.

Odin raises his hand for silence once again and your heart sinks. He looks at his youngest son then at you and you can see in his eyes he is not convinced even though it seems some of the council is shifting their opinion.

"I wish to see this rule," Odin says. Loki nods and holds out the leather bound book he is holding. A young council clerk walks between members of the crowd to Loki. Loki opens the book, pointing to the page he marked and hands it to the clerk who delivers it to the king. Odin sits quietly, reading the passage again and again.

Loki looks down at you and smiles but you can tell he is as nervous as you feel. "It's going to be ok," you whisper.

"I love you," he whispers back.

Before you can tell Loki you love him as well, you hear Odin stand from the throne. He holds the book open, looking down at the page at if it offends him. "This was clearly a mistake," the king insists, still looking down. "One which I intend to correct immediately," he says, looking up at you and Loki.

He rips the page from the book and crumples it in his hand, you can barely believe your eyes. "Thank you for bringing this unfortunate error to the council's attention. From this day forth, all children of the crown, regardless of birth order, must follow the same strict rules for courting and marriage. Spouses will be chosen from the family's of the high court as they always have been," Odin proclaims. "Soldiers will continue to be ineligible for marriage to a person of royal blood, no matter their rank or lineage," he adds, making sure you will never be able to marry Loki even if you become a general in the future.

"No! He can't do this," you think angrily. Your mind is spinning and your heart races. How could he take this away from his own son.

"You dare to tell me what I can and can not do!?" the king asks in a booming voice and you suddenly freeze.

You look at Loki, his eyes filled with fear and realize you didn't think that, you said it out loud. Odin slowly takes a step forward and you fight the urge to turn and run.

I hope you liked this!! Please like, share and comment if you did 💚💚

@soubi001 @michelleleewise @harlequin-hangout @ace-of-gay @xorpsbane @mochie85 @sheris532 @lokiswife-dark-fox-queen @kkdvkyya @animnerd @peaches1958 @peachyjinx @theaudacitytowrite @lokiandbuckysdoll @winterfrostlovetriangle @high-functioning-lokipath @winniewings @pics-and-fanfics @cabingrlandrandomcrap @icytrickster17 @lokisgoodgirl @mischief2sarawr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @mjsthrillernp @holdmytesseract @holymultiplefandomsbatman @lulubelle814 @crimson25 @goblingirlsarah @janineb86 @chantsdemarins @simone818283 @tonystank8 @im-briana-stan @foxherder @chantsdemarins @catsladen @alexakeyloveloki @siconetribal

[perpetuallyconfused10]

Drive Me Home (2/2)

Part 1 Content Warnings: Creep at the Bar™, Soft Hotch WC: 2.5K

。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。+゜゜。。 “Come on. Just one more!” Emily begs you, her voice loud over the constant chatter. She reaches over the unsettlingly sticky tabletop to grab your forearm, then, sensing your vacancy, searches for another target. “Garcia? JJ?”

Two margaritas and four vodka shots is all it takes to unravel whatever illusion of dignity you’ve managed to scrounge together since joining the BAU. Two margaritas and four shots has you giggling at anything said, funny or not, and struggling to keep your eyes open. Now, if Emily has her way — and you’ve come to learn that she often does when the team unwinds at the bar — a tequila shot is in the cards for you too.

“I’m out.” JJ says with a shake of her head, “Any more and I won’t be alive to see tomorrow morning, let alone Monday.” 

“That’s the whole point,” says a now-pouting Emily as she spins in her seat to hound Garcia into agreeing to another round. The first to Morgan’s at the bar making friends, as he puts it. Watching him with a smile pulling at his lips is Reid, who nurses a soda and regales the rest of you every so often with numerical predictions of his chances for success.

Your head is spinning, and it’s got everything to do with the alcohol flooding your veins, not the unfortunate reality of your boss sitting at the head of the table, with those two top buttons open, exposing just a glimpse of his throat. He’s been checking his watch as often as is socially acceptable. Somewhere deep in the haze of your mind, you suspect Rossi, who's long gone, bullied him into coming. Now he nods along with Reid’s tangents, inserts a comment or two whenever the younger profiler takes a breath.

Emily calls your name once more, pinning her hopes onto you. It’s a rookie mistake you make when you nod, having not processed her question properly. By the time you realize what you’ve agreed to, it’s too late to back out. Suppressing a groan, you grab your card and slide out of the booth. You try not to think about squeezing past Hotch as you do it, try ignoring the warmth that spreads into you when your forearm brushes his shoulder. 

You fail. Sweet as ever, Garcia offers to join you, but you shake her offer off with a smile, standing on only-slightly-unsteady legs and making the short walk to the bar.  

As you slot yourself into the crowd waiting for their drinks, you debate whether Emily will notice you taking a water shot instead of the tequila you’ll buy for her and Garcia. You’re about to take the risk and order one when an unfamiliar hand settles itself on your lower back. Brow furrowing, you whirl around, hoping to see Prentiss or Morgan behind you. 

Those hopes are dashed pretty quickly. A stranger presses in close to your side. His fingers curl around your waist in a manner so confident it’d make you laugh, were you sober enough to react with more certainty. Instead, you shiver. And of course he takes that to be a sign, his grin cheshire-cat-wide. 

“I’m sorry. Do I know you?” you take a moment to respond as you cover his hand with your own, moving it away from you. 

He’s tall, blonde, what many people would deem attractive. But his smile is too quick to appear and just lopsided enough to look practiced. “Not yet,” he says. “What are you drinking?”

“Nothing more now. Just water.”

Your tone is clipped, impersonal, and you hope he gets the message. 

If he does, he chooses to ignore it and steps even closer, reaching the same hand across your body and resting it against the bar, boxing you in against it. The proximity has your stomach sinking. 

Stephen — really, you’ve no idea what his name is, but he looks like a Stephen, and the type to spell it with a ‘ph’ over a ‘v’, just for the status of the extra letter — raises an eyebrow at you. “Just water? Come on, honey. What do you want? It’s on me.”

The pet name sounds wrong on his lips. You’re an FBI agent. You’ve dealt with the sickest people humanity has to offer, seen more in your short time with the team than most people see in their lives. You’re an excellent shot, giving even Morgan a run for his money. You should be more than capable of dealing with a freak who gets a little too close at the bar, for fuck’s sake. 

But you’re tired and a little dizzy, and the scent of his cologne makes your head spin in the wrong kind of way. Emily wouldn’t hesitate to shove him hard, and JJ wouldn’t get herself into this situation in the first place. You’re not Emily or JJ though. You’re just you. 

“Thank you, but I’m really not—” 

The bartender cuts you off to ask for your order, and you try to forget Stephen’s eyes on you as you rattle it off, opting for an extra glass of water just to spite him. 

He isn’t pleased, though his face says otherwise. “You don’t really want that. No strings, I promise. Just let me buy you a drink. Just one.”

You’ve had enough. “I’m not interested.” 

Now the smile drops from his face, leaving it a blank mockery of neutrality that makes you sure ‘no strings’ is an empty promise. He leans in even closer, and you suppress a wince at the sensation of his breath against your skin. “You know, you don’t have to play hard to get.” Stephen’s tone is rougher now, all of its artificial sweetness abandoned. He looks you up and down, eyes the neckline of your shirt with a frown. “It’s obvious what you’re looking for.”

Your throat constricts. The air is hot. Too hot. It’s all you can do to keep your hand steady as you pay for your drinks. “I told you, I’m not looking for anything. Or anyone.”

When the bartender slides your drinks across the bar, you rush to grab them, nearly spilling them in your haste to leave. You’re not that lucky. Stephen’s arm is still in your way. You don’t like how your breathing speeds up, chest heaving just a little despite your attempts to remain unfazed, but it’s all too much. 

Stephen opens his mouth to retort again. 

He doesn’t get far. 

“Move.”

 A new hand settles itself on your back, and its fingers curve ever so slightly around your hip. If you wanted to back away, there’d be more than enough room. But you don’t. 

Turning slightly in Hotch’s hold, you’re not surprised to see him issuing Stephen with the full force of his glare. The creep’s hand retreats, though he stays put otherwise.

“Here, sweetheart,” Hotch takes the tray from you, not even bothering to look at your ‘admirer’ again. His focus is on you, now, and his eyes are soft, one corner of his mouth curving up. “Thought you could use a hand. I think Prentiss might kill you if you drop another of her drinks.”

You manage to pull yourself together enough to roll your eyes. Of course he picks now to bring that up. “That was one time, Aaron. I don’t think she even remembers it.”

Now Stephen turns and walks to the other end of the bar, and you feel your shoulders loosen at the distance. 

Hotch notices, because of course he does. Instead of walking you back to your booth, he stays put and searches your face. “You okay?”

You nod. “Fine. I don’t know why I didn’t…”

Trailing off, you scan the bar. Garcia is laughing at something Prentiss says (some kind of story, based on the gestures she’s making). Reid watches them with fondness in his features, Morgan back and sitting by his side.

“You shouldn’t have had to do anything,” Hotch says quietly. His arm rests by his side now. “I think I’m going to head back. You want to go home?”

“Yeah. I’m gonna call a cab.”

He tilts his head, echoing your words from months ago with just a hint of a smirk playing at his lips. “Everyone and their mother is calling a cab. I’m driving you.”

“Hotch…” you sigh. You can’t trust yourself, now, not to say the wrong thing, not to comment on the something that’s changed between the two of you since you gave him a ride home, not to wonder if he’s noticed it too. 

“Let me do this for you. Please.”

His insistence is too gentle to argue with. 

“Okay.”

Hotch takes the tray of drinks, leading you back towards the rest of the team. 

“You’re an angel, honey,” Garcia tells you. She squeezes your hand in thanks as Hotch sets down the shots and hands you your water. If anyone noticed anything wrong, they don’t mention it, and you’re grateful for that small mercy.

“I think we’re going to head out now,” says Hotch. His hand hovers just above your back, almost touching you, as he goes on to explain that you aren’t feeling well and shouldn’t chance a cab.

You’re not too drunk to miss the communal grin passing through the group like the flu, so you file it away for later and hug the rest of the team one by one, giving Reid a tired smile and a wave goodbye. 

Hotch leads you out of the bar and out into the cold in search of his car. You feel yourself take a real breath for the first time in a while. 

“Are you alright?”

“Fine. Thank you,” you say, and mean it. The chill in the air helps to clear your head some. At the very least, you don’t feel nearly as drunk as you did inside. 

Hotch hums, unlocking the car. Climbing into the passenger seat, you can’t help but laugh.

“What?”

You look over at him, groan quietly. “You’re a liar, Aaron Hotchner. Your car is so much cleaner than mine.”

It really is. You glance over the interior in search of a coffee stain or a loose wrapper, but come up empty handed. 

“Guilty,” he shrugs. “And it’ll stay that way, if you behave.”

You’re pretty sure your brain short circuits when he puts his hand on the back of your headrest to reverse out of the parking spot. It takes you longer to respond than usual to his gentle taunting. When you do, it’s a little half-hearted. Maybe you aren’t as sober as you thought. 

“Please, Hotch. I’m not about to throw up in your car. I’m not that far gone.” 

“No. You’re not,” he pauses, opening the window anyway. “We’re back to ‘Hotch’, now? What happened to Aaron?”

You give him the most innocent look you can manage and plug your address into his satnav. “You’re right there.”

You’re pretty sure the look he gives you now is reserved for murderers. And clearly, on some occasions, you. 

Eventually, he relents. “You called me ‘Aaron’, earlier.”

“You called me ‘sweetheart’,” you blurt out before you can stop yourself. Resting your chin on your hand, you turn your head to look out of the window. You don’t want to see the smug expression you’ve come to recognise over the past few weeks, reserved almost exclusively for you. You know he wears it now. 

“Did I?”

You don’t answer. Your fingers move to cover your lips, as if that’ll stop you from making more of an idiot of yourself than you already have. 

Somewhere in the back of your mind, you register his sigh. “Look in the side pocket,” he says, his voice quiet.

“What?”

“In the compartment in the door. Take a look.” 

You follow his instructions, finding a few CDs tucked away there. You’re about to tease Hotch for his taste in kids’ audiobooks when you spot it, and feel your breath hitch. 

“Hotch…” You say, turning over the copy of Carole King’s Tapestry in your hands. It’s still wrapped in plastic, still new. Taking the disc out of its case, you look to him for permission before sliding it into the player. “When did you…?”

“Indiana. I saw it a few weeks ago, and it made me think.”

You press play, and I Feel The Earth Move floods the car. “You really didn’t have to—”

“—I wanted to,” he frowns as he says it, determination etched into his face. “I don’t have much of a collection, but it’ll get there.”

A comfortable layer of quiet settles between you as you watch the world move outside, late-night stragglers heading from offices with briefcases in hand, or stumbling out of nearby bars, arm-in-arm and laughing. It’s been a long while since you took that first journey alone with Hotch, since your determination not to think about him in any non-professional way wavered and cracked. Now, weeks later, you take turns to bring each other coffee in the morning. You ask him about Jack and revel in how content he is to talk about his son. You look at him and wonder if this slow, tentative thing you’ve built, this easy friendship, is all you’ll ever share.

If it is, you can’t bring yourself to be upset. But you glance at him now, his hair falling over his forehead, and think to yourself that it might not be.

Three songs or so later, Hotch turns into your street. You point out your apartment and wait for him to turn the engine off, but he doesn’t.

“Thank you for tonight,” you say, simply to have something to say that isn’t an admittal of something you really shouldn’t be confessing to. 

He hesitates. The car stays running. “You’ve got nothing to thank me for.”

You nod towards the CD player, pressing pause. Silence. “Thank you for this, then.”

“It was your idea,” Hotch says, “You’re a lot more thoughtful than you give yourself credit for.”

It’s sweet. Too sweet. 

You laugh at him. “God, you sound like a fortune cookie.”

“I’d make an excellent fortune teller.” 

There’s that tone again. It’s flat, but with something exasperated lingering beneath it, something fond.

“Go on, then. What’s in my future?”

He sighs. “A nasty hangover. And a text or two hundred from Garcia, complaining about hers.”

You snort in acknowledgement. “And what do you see in yours?”

Now he turns the engine off, leaning back against the headrest and turns to study you. His eyes trace from yours down to the curve of your lips, and to where your hands lay intertwined in your lap. For a long moment, he says nothing. Your breath is starting to turn the windscreen foggy. Then, with a gentle grip, he takes your hand and brings it to his lips, kisses the tender skin on the inside of your wrist. 

“If you’ll have me? Another very uncomfortable conversation with Strauss.”

Your soft, tired smile is answer enough. He leads you to your front door, kisses your forehead, and sees you inside. When that conversation is over, he promises, he’ll be driving you home much more often. 

It isn’t very long before he makes good on it, and Reid is a little richer.

[mehiwilldoitlater]

*throws a mooncake into your inbox* part 2 of the erlang x reader fic plsssss. Let our boy pine and long from the distance. Yuan Fen just KNOWS he caught feeling and is giving him the stink eyes. Maybe reader is unaware? up to you. LOVE YOUR WRITING AND HAVE A WONDERFUL DAYYY

((mooncake?....mooncake...this gave me setting...thank you!))

The mid-autumn festival, or the festival of the moon. You heard it back in your world, but you never thought that one day you would actually participate. After all, you showed some curiosity when you heard from the other monkeys that in the nearest city the humans were preparing everything for the festival, and it was natural for you to ask to be able to attend it.

What you and your companions didn't know was that you weren't the only not-so-human beings that were ready to take a free night for the Moon festival.

"And WHAT are you two doing here?!"

Yuán Fèn almost snarled at the two deities that looked so normal under their own spell and some normal robes. In front of you, Erlang Shen, THAT Erlang, and the third Lotus prince, Nezha, were just in that moment entering the city walls.

Even if under a glamour spell that made him look like a human, Yuán Fèn still held that small trait that didn't allora his tail to disappear, and it was currently moving like a snake around his torso.

"We have all the rights in the world to attend this celebration!" Said the younger one, snarling like your friend and showing some clean in his eyes.

"Of every city, this one?!"

"Yes! Something to say about it?!"

And while the two were arguing, you couldn't look straight in the eyes of the older deity. You remembered quite well what happened to that mountain in that illusion, and... well, it made you feel quite awkward since that was the last time you saw him. You played with the hem of your sleeve, looking from time to time at the man, maybe searching for a good way to green him.

"You look stunning, y/n."

Instead, Erlang couldn't take his eyes off you. Your hangu was of a sweet shade of blues and lilac; flowers aforned your hair and the silks, making you the most beautiful thing that his eyes ever laid on. But you could have been beautiful in everything to him.

Chang'e needed to be careful, because now she had a rival that night.

"oh!" You scratched your head from embarrassment, a little more nervous than before. "The dress?... it's just an old thing that a friend had borrowed me."

"The third sister?" He said it with a genuine but funny tone.

"Yeah! She said that I need to start tò Look like a lady from now on!"

"She has good taste."

He kept his tongue by making remarks about her being a Yaoguai. After all, you befriended many of them. On your behalf, you laughed a little, feeling the nervousness finally calm down. Then, you remembered that Yuán Fèn and that Sassu child were nearing a handfight, and you had an idea.

"Since we're all together, why don't we go as a group? Tò know each other better!" The looks of disbelief on their faces were priceless. "I mean, we should start to act as allies now that the time has changed. And it would be fun!"

Yuán Fèn wanted to say something. I saw your hopeful face. You really, really wanted to attend the festival without troubles, and if going with Erlang and Nezha was an option for that, then it was worth it!

"All right, if they're not against it."  Which he hopes they were.

Well, they weren't; they both agreed on the spot, and so here you all were, walking in the street, full of people, ready to start the celebrations with two deities, really important ones too, and the One that had hereditated all of Sun Wukong powers—a normal group.

What really caught your attention was the decoration around yourself: everywhere someone had hanged a lantern, on their house, on the streets, between the house and palaces. Children were running around, holding small lanterns made of carved melons, where the adults had cut shapes in the zest, then putted a candle inside. 

Music could be Heard from the taverns, in the streets, around some temples, and everyone seems busy to have a good time. Your eyes couldn't concentrate on one spot, so immediately they were caught by something else, and you were so distracted that even Yuán Fèn needed to pull you a little. And of it wasn't him; a certain child was now fully invested in the area sourranding him.

"There there! I bet they sell flying lanterns! Bián huá, led me some money so we can take a few for later!"

"Why should I? Firstly, my name is Y/n, and secondly, you have to ask for them!"

"Hey! Have you forgotten who I am? I can turn you to-"

"To nothing. Because if a certain emperor find out you both sneak here, you're in big trouble!"

It was funny seeing Nezha act like a brat with someone that didn't care about his status, and of course it needed to be you.

While he kept complaining or tugging at your sleeves to get your attention on something, a small crowd got your attention. The music and the dances were blasting; a small group of musicians was playing an old song about Houyi and Chang'e, girls were launching handkerchiefs around, and boys were trying to catch them as fast as they could.

"Hey! Over there! What are they doing? What kind of dance is that?"

"That? It's a matchmaking dance." Said nonchalantly Yuán Fèn. "Of the boy can give back the handkerchief to the girl who has tossed, they may get married in the future."

"Oooh, it's cute!" You got closer to the crowd and, without even noticing, a few old ladies, maybe caught in a joyful spirit, had already caught you and dragged you inside.

"Little help here?!" You tried to call for your friend, but he was stopped by the young one.

"Just throw the thingy! Who's going to pick it up anyway?!" He laughed about it, while you just stuck your tongue out at him.

Once you did what they told you, you were free and without your handkerchief.

"Wow, those ladies are crazy about it!"

"They just like seeing young ladies march with young men, even strange things like you!"

"Careful, or I'll ruin your makeup, boy..." The both of you were now making faces at each other, to the dismay of Erlang and the joy of Yuán Fèn.

"so! What now?"

"We should go and pay and offer to the moon goddess; it's her festival after all."

"Allright! Let's move!"

While you, Yuán Fèn, and Nezha started moving, you hadn't noticed a Swift of Wind between the crowd. When you turned around, Erlang was adjusting his robe and hair.

"Aren't you coming?"

"Ah yes. Sorry, I was just...thinking."

He deliberately avoided the monkey glare; the only one who knew that had noticed maybe.

///

After you all had offered the incense, prayed for some good fortune, and paid respect to the goddess, you all decided that it was the right moment to stop and enjoy some dinner.

"Why don't we stop here? It seems nice!"

"I wouldn't mind some crabs."

"I'm starving!"

If it wasn't just for the small details that the place was crowded like nowhere, it would have taken hours to eat something! And you still wanted to participate in other events! Especially when the lanterna would have been left free in the sky to fly! You bought a few without Nezha knowing—a small surprise for him. Your mouth started tò watering while you saw all of those plates full of food and delicacy moving between table to table, and you were really beginning to think that losing at least the lion dance could not be such a terrible idea.

Until you noticed the monkey and the boy eyes fixed on the door that seemed to lead to the kitchen. There, your thoughts start tò running.

"You really shouldn't do that!"

"They won't notice!" Said Nezha, ready already to sneak in.

"We'll leave a few dollars, so it won't be a real robbery. What do you think?" Yuán Fèn winked at you. Just before taking the form of One of the waiters was alongside Nezha, making his way towards the kitchen. You blushed a little, still a little uncostimed by his new-found cockiness that accompanying tò Bajie was provoked by his mind now clear about his love towards you.

"Yuán fèn or Sun Wukong, they won't change. Troublemakers Deep in Their Heart." Erlang sighed, observing the scene.

"I like him this way... He may be a troublemaker, but he got a big heart."

The deity couldn't shake that pounty feeling in his heart when he saw with what gaze you were looking at the monkey. Deep, really Deep, he wished that you could have spared those dreamy eyes for himself. Such a selfish desire, but he was selfish inside...

"I never got the chance to thank you properly for what you've done for me back there." You started again to play with your sleeve, looking at your feet with some shyness that, in his eyes, made you more precious than ever.

"You don't have to. It was my duty to do so."

"I know, but...thank you...for everything."

And there it was again—that damn smile. That smiled so full of kindness and life that virtually you could possess, one smile that could break everyone's heart, especially Erlang's. He looked at you fondly and started to search for something in his robe.

"Y/n, please, I would."

The screaming of the owner echoed in the crowd. Laughs and screams started, and two troublemakers were running out from the restaurant, holding some food and wine.

"THEY'RE NOT THAT GENEROUS!"

///

You were able to get away from the owner fast enough, and, with your spoiler, you were able to find a nice spot. Next to the river, the boat, all of them decorated with more lanterns, seemed like a celestial vessel with reflections on the water. The light played on the surface, the colors shone like the aurora, and the moon, now high in the sky, set herself to be admired by mortals, Yaoguais, and celestials on that peaceful night.

Everything was just nice, with some food, wine, and good friends. 

After a while, you and Nezha standard up and get closer to the river bank to spot more interesting lanterns, leaving Yuán Fèn and Erlang alone and together.

The night was peaceful, but between the two of them, the tension seemed palpable, and the brother of them wanted to open their mouth to speak up. Erlang proved no animosity towards the monkey; he had made sure of that, but it wasn't like he liked him anyway. But he was sure that that night, the monkey really didn't enjoy his presence at all.

"If you have something to say, then talk. Don't ruin the night with this."

"Then give me the handkerchief."

Erlang stopped tò eating his crabs. His expression seemed calm, for now.

"I can smell it from here. Hand it over."

"Are you afraid of some silly mortal tradition?"

"I'm afraid that another stunt from you will cause some damage that I REALLY don't want to fix."

Erlang was sure that Heard a well-hidden snarl from the monkey. He enarched his eyebrow, looking at him with an inch of doubt.

"I'm Sorry?"

"I could smell it... your scent that day... She was soaked in it."

"I tended to her for weeks. Is normal?"

"She told me you kissed her."

He didn't retract this time, preferring to avoid the angry eyes of the companion, while his first became White.

"...she told you?"

"She wanted to come clear to me, and so I am to you. Do not do anything that you would regret."

He chuckled, ignoring the desire of the monkey to just grab him and destroy him.

"It's a treat?"

"It is, if you'll go over the line. I want to protect her from what can hurt her, especially deities that can't keep their eyes on the ground? She already told me she loved me; she doesn't need confusion now."

Erlang couldn't hold a smile. He always loved some good challenges, but you weren't one. Or, at least, you were already being won.

Yuán Fèn stood up, readjusting his scarf and his neck.

"I won't tell you to stop your feelings; I can't do that. I just ask you to be concederate for your own well-being."

He reached his hand towards him, mimicking the gesture of handing over that small piece of silk. That monkey... he could be so cruel, even against a small and harmless tradition.

He gave it to the monkey, observing that stupid and small thing disappear in the monkey pocket. Before leaving to reach you and Nezha, the monkey stopped in his tracks. His eyes shining with a dark light, his teeth showing...

"I won't hesitate to destroy you to keep you with me...got it?"

The first thing that Erlang thought was that the Destined One and Sun Wukong looked so alike and so possessive.

When he keft, Erlang eyes kept in following him..and then you.

He now understands how It felt Houyi, something the man desired, yet he never reached.

@sun-jglim @crimsonflameproxy @everlastingmoonlightsworld @biankanoir

@miraclecherryblossomsblog @certifiedsimpinggalore @sleepingdramaqueen @cromboloni @masksandfeathers

@cinnamonroll-anon @justrandomlypassing @cute-angi @luckyangelballoon @dressycobra7

@naarra @virtualexpertanchor @phoenixeclipse-lmkau @szynkaaa @kirax-the-lazy-girl

@sleepydang @weaverworks @kishimiest @marcu-bug @thepoweroffiction

@riolu4 @angryvampire @s0rr3l

[raayllum]

ALRIGHT, time to talk about the poster in lovely HD.

First things first, I want to talk about these two ladies (?). The upper one closer to the moon looks more like an elf, and is gazing down at the second, closer woman. I've seen people speculate Ziard due to the hair, but none of this usual clothing appendages are there, so I lean towards a new character, and possibly being the human Aaravos had a special connection to. We see what looks like the arches of the Moon Nexus framed behind them, which was the case both when Rayla went through the portal in TTM and when Lujanne used historia viventum to show Callum the way things looked before. Souls of hate and love, maybe?

We see other Moon symbols throughout the posture sure as archangel lunarises, which seek out Moon magic (1x01) and can be used in illusion spells (2x03, 3x09). We also see the enchanted lotuses from 3x03, though for what purpose is unclear (more on that later).

Moving down, we have a fully celestial, quite happy Aaravos. He's in full flourish and clearly using Moon magic for someone, as begetting the moon behind him, though whether he's constructing lotuses or channeling energy into his Key (perhaps making it able to sense Moon magic) is unknown. While the lotuses in 3x03 were occasionally different colours, the deep purple here makes me think of dark magic. If he is channeling his cube, perhaps he's taking moon energy from the lotuses (or moths) surrounding him to put inside.

I don't think I need to scream much further than I already have about the Moon rune glowing on his Key and having it displayed with his usual star symbol (rune cube foreshadowing symbolism my beloved). This bodes well for theories in which 1) Callum goes too far and does something knowingly risky to free the Moon fam for Rayla's sake or 2) does something risky to help Aaravos to protect Rayla's life, each subsequently to being possessed and/or playing into Aaravos' hands. Thank you goodnight.

Then we have the book, which is deeply fascinating. It seems like a very Moon book, the fragments framing it similar to the ones we see on the lotuses and possibly evoking one of the archangel lunaris' flying around. It wouldn't surprise me if the book contains a variant of Deep moon magic of some kind, whatever that would look like. The crescent curved moon is also similar to the symbol we see on Aaravos' poem page for the Midnight Star in show (2x08). I do wonder why each side of the book looks so different though, with no actual visible moon in sight besides the tiny gemstones and the crescent moon, the other side being entirely dark (which, to be fair, is pretty moon-y).

We also sort of but don't quite see Aaravos' famous chest piece, though it is a-glowing. Whether it glowed all the time pre-Fall we just don't know, as the only time we've seen it glow/be filled in is 2x09 when he's channeling magic through Viren, but who knows. It does mean that the cube is even older than his banishment and that if it does hold his chest piece, it was placed after (if it's tangible at all, which has always been one of the biggest questions).

This is perhaps the weirdest thing that I am the most interested in, as alongside his crown and bangles, this is the biggest design difference between Aaravos in-show and out. In show, both in his mirror and even 'pre-Fall' (aka the timeline for the 1x01 shot is probably a lie anyway), Aaravos' hip thingy is a lot more simplistic.

However, Aaravos does have all his flowery (and I mean that literally, it looks like petals) adornment in his concept art.

The fact they have a lotus flower flair to them always felt interesting but ultimately like a coincidence, but perhaps not. Either way as pictured below, it seems like he's either constructing or dismantling the lotuses, which is Eyes Emoji either way.

The most... surely metaphorical / abstract portion of the poster, though, is I'd imagine the very bottom. I hesitate to read into things too literally (one of the S5 posters had Finnegrin's ship being blasted with lightning and Domina watching the waves, and while she featured in the season and played a role in Finnegrin's aims, the scene itself as portrayed did not come fully to fruition) so I'm gonna go with a more symbolic read, just as as disclaimer.

Lastly we have these two figures. I'm assuming the one in white is an elf and betting on young Aaravos or Leola, though it could be someone else connected to the Moon arcanum (the elven daughter who vouched for exiling rather than eliminating humanity?). The red and black shadow figure feels far more sinister (blood and stardust, anyone) but if you lighten the shadows, you get something even more... interesting, shall we say.

Rather than standing up straight, this figure almost seems to swoop down with a draconic like claw and a face that reminds me the most of Sir Sparklepuff's features, honestly, perhaps boasting a similar kind of blood (Viren's) and star (Aaravos) and dark magic (the staff?). It is also clearly moving toward the more humanoid figure on the bottom right, which gives a "corruption is reaching / coming for / offering things to you" sort of vibe.

[devildomwriter]

A Rift to the Future | Solomon x Reader

.7K | GN! Reader | CW: Children

Solomon hummed to himself as he read a book by the fireplace. As time passed the fire became more of a flicker. He frowned and listlessly snapped his fingers, sending a spark to the fire to light it again. Instead, the fire roared and he cursed himself for accidentally overdoing it. The smoke filled the room and he coughed and with another snap of his fingers cleared it all away.

He shook his head wondering how that had happened and turned back around to sit back on the couch only to see it wasn’t his couch at all. The house was the same but the decorations had changed. He looked them over and nodded, liking the changes he assumed he’d subconsciously made.

His confusion returned when you ran into the room to ask worriedly what had happened. He was startled, wondering when his sweet apprentice decided to give him a visit.

“Oh! Hello ___. Come for a visit have you?”

You raised one brow and gave him an annoyed look. “Of course, I came in. I wasn’t sure if my husband was being an idiot or not.”

Solomon’s eyes widened, “husband—“

“And I came to let you know the boys are home so put away the potions before they get into them again, I will not have a repeat of Thanksgiving.”

Solomon nodded and smiled, deciding it would be best to stay silent and gather information; although he suspected this was a mere illusion from the cloud of magic smoke he’d mistakenly summoned.

“Dad!”

“Dad, we’re home!”

Solomon was silent, stunned as two boys with bright white hair ran into the living room and dropped their backpacks by the couch to run up to him.

“Oof—“ Solomon gasped as the boys barreled into him. “Oh…welcome back…boys…” he said awkwardly. He thought when you’d called him your husband that the spell was bringing to life his fantasies but he’d never imagined kids in those fantasies.

But as he looked into the excited faces of the two and saw your eyes looking back at him he grinned and felt an overwhelming sense of love unlike anything he’d ever experienced.

He picked up the littlest boy and gave him a big hug.

“So, how was school?” He asked, looking at the backpacks.

“Sixth grade is easy,” his eldest son bragged.

Solomon frowned. Sixth grade? This child couldn’t be more than eight. He then laughed to himself for doubting his son. It was his son, after all, of course he’d be an evil genius like his father.

“Boys, come sit for dinner!” You called and the three entered the dining room.

His son jumped from his arms to look at the food warily, “did daddy make it?”

“No of course not.” You responded so quickly that Solomon was almost offended.

“Oh but don’t worry I’ll make it next time,” he offered and you and your sons’ eyes widened and shouted in unison.

“NO!”

Solomon was taken aback, “Oh…why not?”

“David still hasn’t recovered…remember dear…?” You questioned and he shrugged. “Christmas at my family…five years ago…” you sounded more annoyed now so he nodded, sweating.

“I can still see it…” a traumatized expression crossed David’s face and Solomon shook his head. He’d make sure his kids weren’t so picky in the future. That’s when it struck him.

This was his future, wasn’t it? It wasn’t the one he’d originally imagined but being there now he couldn’t help but feel this was how it had always been. You had always been his partner and these two had always been his sons.

Solomon hears the fire in the living room crackling and a chill runs through him. He gets up from his seat and gently kisses your head.

“I’ll be right back, I’ve forgotten something,” he excused and you frowned but allowed him to leave.

Back in the living room, he noticed something unusual in the fireplace. A small black rift. “So that’s what happened…” Solomon mumbled.

Placing his hand into the rift Solomon knew what he needed to do and walked into it after taking another glimpse at the kitchen where you and your sons waited.

In the brief moment he spent within the rift he heard his own voice speak to him. “You’ll see them again.”

Solomon blinked in surprise but smiled. He returned to his couch and his book but wasn’t able to focus and tossed the book aside within seconds. Instead, he took out his D.D.D. and gave you a call.

“Hm? Solomon?” You asked on the other line.

He grinned, “Hows my adorable apprentice doing?”

“I’m okay, what’s up?”

“I was wondering, ___. Are you free right now?”