#all your cracks i'll paint gold

[alexanderlightweight]

If prompts are open can I have more of the deruned!alec prompt, specifically angry and protective Magnus confronting people (clary, jace, Izzy)

Yeah, I'm a little bored and waiting for edits to finish before I write new chapters for active wips. Thanks @i-cant-think-of-one-meh

So here we go, enjoy!

~

It takes days for the pain to ebb enough for Alexander to sit up and breathe without choking on his own agony. 

Alexander’s body is no longer protected by angelic grace and it bears its wounds heavily, adjusting to its new normal.

And it is Magnus who wipes the sweat and tears from his skin. Who pieces Alexander back together with gentle, protective touches and bright magic that makes Alexander smile softly.

It’s a gift. Because at the beginning, it seemed that Alexander might  never smile again. 

And Magnus shores up his defenses and when, four days after he found Alexander huddling against Magnus’ wards, he’s reached out to, he snaps on his armor and he portals to the institute. 

Alec is still unconscious. But he’s given Magnus permission to make choices for him. Because Alexander doesn’t even trust himself, but he trusts Magnus, and Magnus has never betrayed that trust.

So Magnus portals to the Institute and he lets the wards wail as they announce his presence. Magic flickers around him and his heels click and clack loudly in the pristine halls.

Most of the shadowhunters in them look haunted, and they send scowls of distaste and hatred towards the group that demanded Magnus’ presence and aid.

“And what trouble have you three gotten into now, that makes you call an old warlock to meddle in shadowhunter business?” Magnus asks dangerously, his voice dark as he gets closer.  

“Ah Magnus.” Clary looks flustered and a little nervous. There is an empty daze to Jace’s eyes and he’s holding onto Isabelle almost desperately. 

And Isabelle, Alexander's precious younger sister, she looks devastated. 

Something in Magnus’ chest gives a satiated croon at the evidence of their suffering.

“We need help.” Clary admits. “We brought the cup back. But we still don’t know which warlock made the potion. Or how to track them.”

“And you might never know.” Magnus tells her cooly, examining his nails.

“What? Magnus, why aren’t you helping me?” She asks, as if Magnus is required to help her.

“You can’t afford me, Clarissa. I helped you pro-bono because you gave me something I wanted. It’s been made clear that what I want is no longer available, ergo, I am also no longer available.”

That catches all of their attention and Isabelle’s lips wobble and Jace grimaces, putting a hand on his side where his parabatai rune once lay. 

Magnus wonders if it’s still there, or if it’s gone like Alec’s is. If it has a scar, or if Jace is like Alec, desperate for the reminder of such a deep betrayal to be erased, forever.

“You mean you only helped me because of Alec?” Clary asks angrily, as though she has any right to be angry.

The Clave may have pardoned her, but Magnus never will. 

“Have you seen him? Have you seen Alec?” Izzy asks desperately, at the same time that Clary does.

“Alexander made his stance on seeing me again clear, Isabelle. I do not linger where I am not wanted.”

Izzy chokes, as if she’d held to some quiet and desperate hope that Magnus would solve her problems, one more time.

“Speaking of which, where is your lovely commander? I’ve heard some concerning rumors about him; they are rumors. Aren’t they?”

They stutter out a lackluster attempt to avoid answering and it turns into a lacking explanation that says nothing of substance until Clary finally mutters that Alec was ‘deruned’ and hasn’t been heard from since the process. As he exited through the portals of the Spiral Labyrinth, no one knows where he ended up. Or if he’s still alive.

And Izzy and Jace flinch like the word itself is salt on an open wound. 

“The only reason I ever helped you, beyond the original consultation and payment, was because I wanted him.” Magnus says it conversationally, as if it’s as obvious as vampires avoiding the sun. 

“And when your choices pulled him away from me. I let it go, because surely Alexander could make his own mistakes. I didn’t realize that he would always bear the consequences of your actions. And I never realized how little any of you would care that he would.”

Jace snarls at him and it’s an angry thing. But Magnus simply sniffs at him.

“Well now that you’ve truly destroyed any hope for me here, I will leave you to your lives. Maybe by the time you’re thirty, you’ll have figured it out.”

Magnus tuts and turns, hears Jace’s angry and upset shouts and Isabelle’s guilty and sad sobs and Clary, confused about it all and trying to make it better, but only making it worse.  

—

“It’s not the lack of the runes themselves that are causing him so much harm.”Brother Zacahariah —but always Jem to a precious few— tells Magnus telepathically.  “It is the lack of anchor, he is no longer tied to Raziel and his devotion has nowhere to go. His faith in Raziel and his family, his culture; it’s been broken too greatly to ever truly be healed.”

“So what do I do?” Magnus asks desperately. Cat is keeping Alexander in a healing trance, her magic stabilizing him as Magnus finds a way to heal and protect him. To keep him alive, because Magnus wants Alexander alive.

Magnus will do anything to keep Alexander and Alexander is letting him.

“You anchor Alec Lightwood to yourself. It is a heavy burden, to be someone’s reason for living. This will be a more intimate bond than you could ever imagine Magnus, you will become his world. His purpose for living, the reason for his every breath.

“Nephilim are powered by belief and devotion. You have enough divine blood, fallen though it is. And if he truly devotes himself to you, you will be stronger than even your father. Raziel is so powerful and untouchable for a reason, Magnus. It is because of the nephilim, who he created and who worship him in turn.”

Magnus is greedy and while he understands the weight of what Jem is saying, he’s selfish enough to admit that he wants what is being offered like a werewolf yearns for the moon. 

If Magnus does this. Alexander will never leave him. Alexander will never want to leave. And Magnus can make sure he never does.

“Anchor him to me Jem, he gave himself to me completely. I want this. I want him.”

Jem looks at him with a solemn gaze before nodding quietly. “Then I will help you steal a nephilim soul from Raziel, and bind it to yourself. He will share your immortality, as he will be your devotee.”

Glee crackles through Magnus’ body, a lust for becoming the most important being to someone, to Alexander specifically, lighting a thrill through his body. 

A stele —an old and elegant, almost deceptively delicate looking— is pressed to his palm. As Magnus watches, it lights up, glowing with the same light as the red suns of Edom do. He sears a rune onto Alexander’s skin, just above his heart. 

It is Magnus name, the rune his power claimed, the translation of himself, in the defiled and unholy language of fallen angels.

It burns. Magnus can feel Alexander shaking under Magnus' firm grip as he sears a place for himself onto Alexander’s body. 

Alexander is claimed, branded with Magnus’ mark.

He can feel him. The desperation. The hope. The depth of his devastation and the strength he clings to Magnus with. Hoarding the fact that Magnus is protecting him, will never betray him, like a dragon hoards its treasures.

“It is up to you what runes he bears. They will integrate better if you do them first.”

Magnus nods at the instructions and lets himself linger in thought. He traces the tender skin of Alexander’s anchor  to him, and knows what to use next. 

He replaces the deflect rune on Alexander’s neck with a similar one. Because something in him hungers for a rune Magnus has chosen, to be easy for others to see. He wants to be able to see it himself, curling above Alexander's shirt collars.  Wants to scratch over it with his nails when they sit together, or leave marks blurring the smooth lines of the rune with his teeth.

And most of all, Magnus will avoid using angelic runes as much as possible. It displeases Magnus to even think about Raziel’s marks claiming even an inch of Alexander’s skin.

Not when he now belongs to Magnus.

[norrisleclercf1]

Can I has Mafia!Jenson x assistant!reader where she wears the body jewellery to a dinner of some sorts, or like an event, and Jenson is just completely speechless? They're in that weird cat and mouse game still where they both know the other has feelings but are too scared to admit their own but Jenson would kill whoever looks at her 👐🏼

A/N: HEHEHE

"I am, not wearing that."

Lewis snaps his fan closed and groans, cracking his neck as he glares at you. "Yes the fuck you are, now, go change." He pats your ass and throws you into the changing room. You turn quick and pull at the handle and groan when you realize the bastard locked it from the outside.

"I'll just stay in here!" You yell, a snort echos, as Lewis's boots click on the floor. "Fine you can stay in there, but Jenson will come in here, now wither I open the door with you dressed or naked, is your choice." Biting down hard, your jaw aches from the threat, blowing air out as you take a moment to calm down.

"I hate you!" "No you don't,"

Groaning, you hate that Lewis was right, you could never hate your best friend. Looking at the outfit you groan and quickly undress.

-----------------

"Goddamn, even I'd fuck you." Blushing at the words, Lewis smiles as he walks around you. Wearing black stilettos, a skin tight black dress that had a deep cut V that went down to your naval, your breasts holding perfectly it looked sinful, it had slits on either side that went up to the curves of your hip bones, you'd keep to yourself you weren't wearing any panties. But the silent killer, was this small but noticeable gold chain that layed on your sternum, but broke off at the end and wrapped under your breasts. It had gorgeous little pearls that adorned your skin, it looked classy yet a little hint of seduction. Lewis loved it.

"Well, okay," Lewis takes a breath and fixes his pants which has you slapping his shoulder but you both giggle, leaning in he kisses your cheek and brings you over to do a smokey eye and paint your lips a deep wine red. "Thank you," You whisper, feeling confident.

You might work for Jenson Button, one of the feared men in the Mafia world and even made him fall to is knees, but even you needed to feel pretty once in a while, and Lewis was always happy to dress you up. "For you," He whispers and kisses your cheeks.

"I have to go," You sigh, not wanting to head to this meeting. Jenson had asked you to come with and Lewis decided to make you gorgeous and confident and have all the men eating out of your hand.

And damn did he succeed.

------------------------

Climbing out of the car you say thank you and hold your little clutch and walk inside to the dark little restaurant. You didn't know where Jenson and the other men where, looking around for them.

Jenson was going to murder Lewis. He was going to kill him and maybe torture him, but he was going to do something to the man. Because explain to him, why he gorgeous, sweet, somewhat shy, and brilliant assistant was currently wearing a dress that was begging Jenson to fuck her in.

Biting his lip he groans, seeing you in that dress should be illegal and the fact he now had business partners here, to see you in this dress. He was going to rip their fucking eyes out. Seeing you look around lost and confused made his blood bump so hard he could hear it in his ears. "Excuse me," He slides out of the booth and walks up behind you, and feels his pants get even tighter seeing the finer details of the dress.

God he wanted to take his hand and reach into the slits of the dress and grab your ass pulling you close, having you sit on his lap and feel him grow hard underneath you. He wanted to slide the long sleeves off your shoulders and watch as you bounce, the body jewelry teasing him and god, he was going to come right here. "Y/n," You jump, and he has to control himself from wrapping his arms around your waist.

"God, Mr. Button, scared me." You blush seeing the way he was eating you alive. "I'm sorry, but...what are you wearing?" He steps closer to you. Body tensing you hate the way you lean forward, craving the warmth and the scent of his cologne wrapped around you.

"Lewis designed it for me," You whisper, as the two of you lean in closer, craning your neck to look up at him, as he looks down at you. "Come home wit-" "Mr. Button, you're table is ready for your orders," The two of you jump back as the waitress smiles, seeming somewhat annoyed and you blush looking away.

"Let's go," He whispers, and holds out his arm, which you gratefully take as he leads you to the table and stops. "Fuck, I can't." He moves to stand in front of you and shrugs his suit jacket off and laying in on your shoulders, covering your body, his hands tighten on the collar and pulls you in.

"Only I can see you like this, understand? Only me," He whispers, leaning in and you have the urge to lean in just a little bit, he smiles and bumps your forehead and moves away. "If they stare at you to long and make you uncomfortable, squeeze my thigh twice and I'll blow their fucking heads off," You nod, getting a smile from him, "Good girl."

[suiana]

yo i saw ur rb && feel free to write about the renting concept!!! if u do pls tag me i’d love to see <33 😋

😻😻 rhanks genie

(yandere! rental boyfriend x gn! reader) (shitpost kinda) (concept based on this post)

you know, it's not like you were ugly, dumb or poor. in fact, you consider yourself rather attractive, smart and quite rich. but it seems that no one has noticed that which... might've been why you were single for a very long period of time.

very meaning from when you were born up until recently.

you had always desired for a relationship. wanting to experience the joys of love, the romance, the contentment you get whenever you're with that special someone.

unfortunately you never got to experience that. never. even after putting down your dignity and renting a boyfriend.

you had rented a rather pretty looking guy from this... dodgy website called 'rent-a-darling'? was that the name? it probably is. what a weird website it's called. anyways, it was basically a rental boyfriend/girlfriend website and you had absolutely struck gold with it.

perfect face, perfect body, incredibly intelligent... he was basically a work of art. and his personality wasn't half that bad either! he cracked jokes and they were entertaining enough! he made you laugh, feel better about your miserable love life...

but he just wasn't it.

so you decided to end contact with him. there was no point in continuing that rental service anyways. it's not like he'd like you back even if you fell for him.

except that was exactly what happened?? a few days after you officially ended your contact with your absolute god of a rental boyfriend, he showed up at your doorstep, panting as a lovesick look paints his beautiful features.

you were concerned to say the least. after all, you had never seen him act in such a way before. which was why you allowed him in... which led you to your current situation which was far from ideal.

"could you let me go please? my arms are sore..."

"you know, you're really cute like this."

you merely sigh in response, looking away as you grow awkward under his obsessed gaze. this has been the fifth day since he tied you up, only allowing you to leave the bed for meals and the toilet.

and in those five days he's openly admitted to be in love with you.

while it was nice and endearing to hear such words, you only wish it was from someone you actually loved back. and maybe not as crazy as this guy was.

"can you please let me go? do you want money or something? i can give it to you-"

"what i want is your love, and that cannot be bought with money."

he interjects promptly, still smiling at you with his pearly white teeth which were honestly starting to creep you out. why were they so white? why was he so objectively perfect? and why was he madly obsessed with you?

"hey can i just ask something? why are you so obsessed? like just why."

he pauses for a second, hummung contently as he shuts his eyes for a bit.

"I'm not sure why,"

his eyes open again and he continues his sentence. this time, you can't help but feel an impending sense of dread in your gut when he speaks.

"i guess i just really adore you."

he then giggles oddly, tugging at your bedsheets as his face nears yours.

"you complete me, my love."

you grimace as his face nears yours. ugh, what you wanted was that lovey dovey shit you saw on television. not whatever this was. kidnapping and constant moans of how your captor loves you.

but oh well, it is a relationship. just not the one you wanted. maybe you could learn to deal with it-

"darling! if you tell me how much you love me, block everyone else you know, leave your job, and promise to run away with me, I'll untie you! how about it?"

...yeah, you're not dealing with this. perhaps you're just not meant for love.

[rb19]

EE: One track you played so often? MV: My dad and I played it in the van. I could sing along to it at the time. *Plays 'Green Grass of Home' by Tom Jones* EE: So it reminds you of the rides with your dad? MV: Absolutely, to Italy. ___________________________ GP: You've just overtaken Ascari in terms of percentage wins in a season. MV: We did that. We all did that. CH: See if you recognize this. Sing along.

The old hometown looks the same As I step down from the train And there to meet me is my mama and papa

Down the road I look and there runs Mary Hair of gold and lips like cherries It's good to touch the green, green grass of home

Yes, they'll all come to meet me Arms reaching, smiling sweetly It's good to touch the green, green grass of home

The old house is still standing Though the paint is cracked and dry And there's that old oak tree that I used to play on Down the lane, I walk with my sweet Mary Hair of gold and lips like cherries It's good to touch the green, green grass of home

Then I awake and look around me At four grey walls that surround me And I realize, yes, I was only dreaming For there's a guard and there's a sad, old padre On and on, we'll walk at daybreak Again, I'll touch the green, green grass of home

Yes, they'll all come to see me In the shade of that old oak tree As they lay me 'Neath the green, green grass of home

[sebsbarnes]

hey love, hope u r doing ok ❤️ i wanted to request a tan x reader where she’s interacting with another guy in a mission (in any way you’d like tbh) and tangerine gets SUPER jealous

it’s kinda like “jealousy” that u already wrote but where the reader makes him jealous this time (i’ve been obsessed with the song u belong to me by the weeknd lately and it’s doing things to me 😭)

hiii i hope you are well also and enjoy this! i am a sucker for jealous tropes i cant even lie so this is perfect

seduction || tangerine

tangerine x f!reader

warnings: none i believe, making the other person jealous

word count: 1.8k+

masterlist

"in and out, okay. i don't want to be here longer than we have to be," tangerine grumbled, fixing the cuffs to his dress shirt.

"why? it's my time to play. i'll take as long as i want," you taunted, throwing tangerine a look over your shoulder and you couldn't help but look him up and down.

tangerine narrowed his eyes at you and though you were no longer facing him, you could see him standing behind you in the large mirror, "we don't want our cover to be blown."

you laughed at the statement, "when do we ever get caught."

tangerine left the room huffing under his breath and you observed yourself in the mirror once more before grabbing your purse. realistically you knew you shouldn't spend so much time trying to pry information out of the man who held the information you, tangerine, and lemon needed, but you knew you could flirt it out of him and that would anger tangerine. so, what's the harm, right? call it cruel, or whatever you want, but tangerine would constantly get possessive or angry when you got a bit too close to other men, but tangerine has never once made a move so what right does he have to get angry.

the air in the car ride over to the gala was tense. all lemon could do was give you and tangerine quizzical looks but refused to ask any questions assuming it was one of your stupid banters. the suv came to a stop outside of the beautiful mansion and the three of you slid out of the car. butlers opened the large glass doors and you were met with beautiful piano music, hundreds of people wandering about, and gold everything.

you adjusted the faux fur scarf that was draped over your shoulders, "i'll see you boys later," you winked at lemon and tangerine before sauntering off, heels clicking as you left.

tangerine pinched the bridge of his nose. 'in and out' he kept internally repeating to himself. lemon nodded his head to tangerine and they followed behind you.

you slinked through the crowd heading for the elevated platform where the man garrett was standing chatting to a group of men who were appeasing his ego and laughing at the pitiful jokes he cracked. you sauntered over to the small table that was next to the group of men and slowly leaned down to grab a drink. you made sure your back was slightly arched, hips dangerously high in the air as you refused to break eye contact with the man who noticed you. garrett swished the brown liquor around in his glass clearly intrigued by you. your eyes raked down his body and your painted lips offered him a smirk. before you turned on your heel you flicked your eyes up to the staircase where a fuming tangerine was staring daggers into you. though you couldn't see it from here tangerine was gripping the railing so hard that it shook. satisfied with the attention from both men, you walked away.

"relax mate," lemon laughed noticing the way tangerine's hands turned white. tangerine glanced at his brother before dropping the railing.

"c'mon she's out of sight."

it was merely a minute later when you felt the gentle tap on your shoulder. spinning around you feigned ignorance at the man.

"i don't mean to bother you, but i wanted to let you know i think you are beautiful," garrett spoke, his eyes briefly looking at your chest as you dropped the scarf to your elbows, exposing the skin to him.

you leaned into him a bit and placed a gentle hand on his forearm, "what's your name, handsome?"

"garrett."

you brought the martini glass to your mouth, your tongue swiping across your bottom lip to remove the drop of vodka.

"garrett," you drawled, "how about we dance?"

tangerine watched from a distance as the man guided you toward the edge of the dance floor. his arms hooked themselves tightly onto your waist and you situated yourself on his shoulders. tangerine's eye twitched as he watched your fingers play with the man's curly hair at the base of his neck. that should be me. he watched the two of you sway back and forth and the deeper you got into conversation, garrett's hand inched its way lower and lower on your back. tangerine felt bile rise up into his throat.

you were working info out of garrett about his uncle and though he seemed like a bit of a fool he wasn't falling into your seduction too easily. he was giving only tidbits of information out at a time and you were internally yelling at the man, begging him to just give it all up so you can stop caressing his body. you threw your head backwards in laughter at some lame joke he made and toyed with the buttons on his open shirt.

"if i laugh anymore i may pop out of this dress," you joked, playfully tapping fake tears off your face.

the emotion in his eyes changed, "that wouldn't be a bad thing now would it, love?"

the way he said love made you cringe. it was forceful and unnatural, much different from the way it would roll off tangerine's tongue. you tried to suppress the grimace on your face and opted to run a finger down his chest and stomach until you hooked it around his belt loop.

you leaned forward to his ear, lips grazing his skin, "there's nothing under this dress."

garrett gripped you tight so your bodies were flushed together. you did everything in your power to not squirm when you felt his fingernails in your skin and the low growl deep in his throat.

"my uncle's room is right down the hall behind me," he breathed into your neck. your eyes flickered to the hallway and you noticed tangerine standing against the wall with a careful eye.

"it would be rude of us to dirty up his room while he's here," you whispered back with hooded eyes.

"he isn't here. he'd never know." the desperate man before you pressed.

"i don't think they'd be able to clean the mess we'd make before he came back," your lips were centimeters away from his.

he brought his hand from your waist to your hair and roughly tugged at it causing your head to jerk upwards, "he's away in the states. at some banquet in new york city at the ritz. he's not coming back for two weeks."

ah, he made it too easy for you. you pondered if you should entertain him and follow him to the bedroom and see if you could pry more info out of him, but this is what you needed and truth be told you wanted to be out of his grip. though you hummed in content and turned your face to press a kiss to his jaw. in your peripheral you saw movement, it was tangerine glaring you down. the look on his face was one you didn't recognize. it was a concoction of emotions but the more evident one was disappointment.

"i need air," tangerine gasped to lemon who had just stood beside the man. you watched as tangerine hurried his way through the crowd and out the door to the balcony. the features on your face pulled together in confusion till you realized you were still wrapped in garrett's arms.

"i'll meet you there in fifteen minutes," you whispered seductively trailing your finger across his bottom lip. garrett didn't move after you retreated away from the dance floor and to the balcony.

tangerine was leaning over the cement railing looking into the garden. his back was rising and falling rapidly, the fabric of his suit slightly constricting the movement. tangerine could hear the clicks of your heels approaching but didn't turn to face you.

you hesitated before speaking, sensing he wasn't in a good mood, "i... i got the information we needed. we can uh- leave now."

he didn't respond so you carefully placed your palm on his back and ran it down his spine. he jerked upright and ignored the sensation your hand on his body produced. he stared you down and you felt so small under his gaze. it was intense and unwavering and his eyes seemed so blue right now.

"what's wrong," you asked in a small voice, crossing your arms tighter under your chest.

he let out a laugh in disbelief, "oh! i don't know darlin' how about your lil performance out there."

"like you haven't done the same or worse, tangerine. besides, i got what we needed," you hissed. your words so venomous you could feel it burning at your tongue. all he did was roll his eyes and start to walk back inside the mansion. you gripped his wrist, yanking him to face you.

"you don't walk away from me."

your brain couldn't work fast enough to catch up with the fact tangerine's mouth was now on yours. the way his lips pressed against yours felt so foreign yet it worked, like his lips should've been kissing you every day and every night and they should never leave until the last shred of air burned at your lungs. and that's what was happening as the sun in the horizon glowed orange onto your skin. tangerine kissed you like it was his final act on this earth. his one hand was flat against your spine bringing your body as close as humanly possible to him with his other hand cupping your cheek. you were gripping his black suit jacket with such vigor your fingers almost poked holes into the fabric.

not a care in the world as your lips interlocked with each other, tongues occasionally escaping their way into the other's mouth. exasperated breaths could be heard from the brief seconds you allowed yourself to part before reconnecting with clashing teeth. the lipstick on your lips had now painted a picture on tangerine's face but you loved it and if you had it your way you'd force him to walk back into the house covered in your mark.

you and tangerine finally re-entered reality to a now dark sky. the kiss happened in slow motion but the sky around you spoke otherwise. with one final kiss tangerine gently bit at your bottom lip and ran his fingers through your hair.

"i'm tired of pretending that i don't like you," he murmured, placing his forehead against your own.

"why does it take me talking to another guy for you to finally confess," you asked genuinely curious.

"'cause i'm a fuckin' idiot, love. it shouldn't take that. i should've told you a long time ago but tonight. seeing- seeing that man touch you," tangerine fumed, his nostrils flaring, "i couldn't take it."

you sighed softly and said, "i'm not innocent in this either, i try and make you jealous on purpose."

tangerine gave you a soft smile and pressed a kiss to your cheek. he didn't care that you did it on purpose. deep down he kind of loved it but he was wrong for being angry at you.

"oh. we should probably leave. garrett has been waiting, i'm sure naked, in his uncle's bed," you laughed, hooking your arm to tangerine's.

"should we kick him out?" tangerine winked.

[scekrex]

Okay, okay, okay, ANOTHA ONE. Winner!reader who got lost in Heaven on his first, because Adam forgot that he was supposed to give him a tour and simply kept walking while Reader got distracted and went after something shiny that he thought would look nice on Adam. Now cue in Brandon Rogers skit with a "mother" looking for her son Timmy. Just Adam running around and screaming "Y/N!!!!" and asking around, cause he's totally shitting himself. He lost a soul IN HEAVEN of all places. After some time he sits down on a bench in a park or something, completely exhausted and distressed, when suddenly the reader appears behind him, placing a shiny little tiara between his mask horns saying: "✨👸🌺You're a fucking pretty princess!🌺👸✨" while holding ice cream in the other hand and Adam just looks at him like:

You can end it however you want, cause honestly you're gonna nail it either way 💁🏻‍♂️

Babes, I fucking love you for that request. I feel like I'll write so many crack fics for Adam n Reader just bc of you and I'm fucking ready for it

Lost and Found

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language, this is a crack fic (kinda)

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

When you had first appeared in Sera's office you had been confused and overwhelmed, the little girl, her name was Emily, was full of energy that you weren't able to deal with at that point. She had been all in your face and while you were aware that it was all good intentions, it made you feel like stumbling right into a panic attack.

So Sera had made a call with some guy named Adam, she hadn't explained who he was and why she called him and not someone else but once Adam had arrived at Sara's office, you understood. The guy was a lot more chill than Emily, sure he could talk a lot - that was the first thing he had proven once he had entered the office - but he wasn't draining you by doing so. He wasn't all up in your face either and you appreciated that a lot.

So once you two had introduced yourself to each other, the two of you took off.

The streets weren't as full and crowded as you had expected them to be. Heaven was painted in bright colors, pastel blue, white and gold were the most common colors you came across. Adam was currently rambling about some chick that he had fucked a couple weeks ago at one of his gigs, you weren't really paying attention though, you were too focused on all the shiny lights that surrounded you.

So your attention was on many things, on everything but Adam, the person you probably should've focused the most on considering that you had no clue where exactly in heaven you two were. And when the two of you walked past a jewelry store you couldn't help but walk right through the door. In your mind you thought Adam would notice and follow you - or wait outside the store.

Well, Adam didn't even notice you were gone at first, he was too caught up in his storytelling. So he continued to walk through the streets of heaven for a good twenty minutes without you. That was until the man stopped to look at you - or at least that was why he turned around. But you weren't there.

Fuck.

For how long had he been walking alone? Where were you and why weren't you following him anymore? A wave of panic hit him. What if Sera would find you all alone without him in sight? He'd be in so much trouble if that were to happen.

So he walked in the direction he came from, checking every back alley he had walked past but he couldn't find you. “Y/N?” he called out for you as he entered yet another back alley, hoping he'd get a response. He tried to remain as calm as possible, that wasn't easy considering that he had just lost a fucking soul in heaven. Oh he was so fucked if he weren't to find you by sunset. He was so fucked if Sera were to find out.

Another wave of panic shot through his body as he rushed out of the alley. He grabbed an angel who just went about his day by his shoulders, shook him slightly as his voice filled with panic got louder and louder, “Have you seen my-” Adam stopped for a moment. His what? You weren't his. Ah, fuck this, “Have you seen the dude I'm supposed to watch? He's about this tall,” he raised his hand to show the angel - who was slightly frightened by Adam's behavior - how tall you were, “clearly gay and has a thing for me, but we haven't had the talk yet.” The second the angel started to shake his head Adam was gone, calling out your name over and over again.

“You fucking little shithead, get your sexy ass over here,” Adam yelled, earning himself a few strange looks from bypassing angels, he couldn't care less though. A panicking expression was visible on his mask as he continued to walk all the way back to where you and him had come from. He opened a door to one of the countless stores you two had passed, “Y/N are you in there? You better get the fuck out if you are!” The customers inside the store looked at Adam in confusion and disgust for yelling so loud. He slammed the door shut and crossed the street to enter a park, maybe you had seen some kind of animal or whatever bullshit it was a soul like you were interested in.

“C’mon you little bitch, I'll let you fucking do drugs if you move your ass over here right now,” that was a total lie, obviously it was, but Adam was trying to get you back and he really had no idea how to do it properly.

Another angel walked up to him, she seemed slightly worried about the situation that was playing out, “Have you tried retracing the steps?” Adam shoved her out of the way, “Fuck, you think I'm stupid? Of course I have!” The lady who just had wanted to help flinched away from the first man and was quick to take off once his attention had shifted away from her.

He rushed through the entire park, even looked at the entire thing from above in hope he would be able to spot you, but nothing. Once his feet were back on the ground he broke down on a park bench, his hands were covering the LED face that was displayed on his mask and he was done with it, there was no way he'd find you before sunset - which was when Sera was expecting the both of you to return.

He was completely fucked, there was no way he'd be able to explain to Sera what had happened. And even worse: what if you got hurt? Shit, he didn't even know why he cared about that, you were just some random soul he had met a couple hours ago but yet there he was, worrying about your fucking ass.

Adam flinched when he heard the sound of metal clicking against his mask and turned his head around. There you were. A soft smile was curled around your lips and you held a cone of ice cream in your hand as if nothing had happened, “Y’know,” you started to speak up and pointed to the thing that was resting on top of his mask now, “For someone who talks about ‘fucking bitches’ a lot you're a fucking pretty princess.”

Adam reached for the object you had placed on his head and looked at it closely. It was a fucking golden tiara. It had tiny purple gemstones attached to it and it surprisingly fit his aesthetic pretty well. He stared at the shiny accessory for a moment before he put it down on the bench, got up and lifted you over the bench he had been sitting on. Before you knew it your ice cream cone landed on the ground and Adam pulled you into a bone crushing hug, your feet still dangling in the air, you simply decided to wrap them around his waist. The taller man didn't seem to mind it all that much.

“Don’t you fucking dare to ever run off again you little shithead,” he whispered as he held you, the face of his mask was pressed flush against your neck. “And I thought I was the one having a thing for you when clearly it's not one sided,” you teased the first man, your hand playfully grabbing his horns and pulling him away from your neck to look at him. “You heard that?” he asked in a mix of anger and embarrassment. “Yeah,” you shrugged, “Next time when you're looking out for me, do better.” Adam couldn't help but simply stare at you in pure disbelief. There was simply no fucking way he had missed you. “Also,” you looked down on the ground where your ice cream cone was melting, “You owe me ice cream, idiot.”

“I swear I'll fucking get you a shirt that says 'If lost, return to Adam' or some shit in case that ever happens again,” Adam mumbled and even though he sounded slightly annoyed, he seemed pretty happy you were back. “Oh, it will happen again, trust me,” you simply grinned.

[minhosimthings]

Fault

Prompt by @banghyunchanji : Imagine when Chan finds out that your manager is making you perform the day after you have a miscarriage.

Pairings - Idol!Husband!Chan × Soloist!Fem!Wife!reader

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy, reader has a miscarriage, angst with a shit ton of comfort, mentions of food, chan has a nightmare

A/N: saw this one gif and I just had to write it! I don't like the way I wrote the ending much but I think this was my favorite descriptions to write. Thank you to @banghyunchanji for the prompt! I hope all of you like it.

"Channie-" you gasped for air. The lilac painted room, your favourite colour, seemed to be whirling around and you swore you could see the moon dancing up in the sky through the magnificent windows. Why was the moon shining tonight? Why were the city lights still turned on? Why were the buildings still stinking of coffee? Why wouldn't the world stop for you?

More under the cut

"Channie- I-Im-" Chan immediately pulled you into his chest, engulfing you in a warm comforting fire, as all the crystals you've held in your eyes started coming out. Chan felt the fabric of his shirt getting wetter and wetter, but he couldn't care less. His eyes were bloodshot, illuminating his dark circles, from all the days you got him back home at midnight from the studio.

"Shh princess. Shh, it's alright it's alright." Chan rubbed circles on your wrist, always a way of calming you down, "I'm here. I'm here." He tried to keep his voice from cracking.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry." Your voice tried to be stable, and your soul tried to stop itself from bleeding. Chan's heart broke into a more than a million pieces, probably enough to scatter the entire world. "Baby no~" he shushed you, his voice as warm as a freshly baked pecan pie, your favourite wasn't it? "It wasn't your fault. It wasn't anyone's. No shhh don't cry baby, you're still very weak." He held you tighter, as your tears dried up, "you'll only get weaker. Have some water, come on."

Chan got you up slowly, hands resting on your waist, trying not to float over to your stomach, where stitches lie, tightly packed, but still bleeding gold. He pressed a glass of water to your lips, gently lifting it, so that your throat could get a drop of hydration.

"thank you." You whispered, laying back down on the bed. Chan smiled gently at you, a weak attempt at calming you down. You could see the rotten pain in his smile, his dimple shining less than it usually did. "It's alright." He mumbled into your ear, as you wrapped your arms around him, as he spoke a lie which would perhaps become a disguised truth, "Everything's gonna be alright."

The next day

"Alright Mrs Bang," the doctor clapped her hands together, rearranging her stethoscope around her bruised neck, "Your tests are looking good. I think you're free to go home today! But please-" she turned to Chan, who had his hand wrapped around your shoulder, "-make sure she doesn't do any physical activity. I know, her being a top class soloist is hard, but she absolutely cannot do any physical activity until her next checkup." Chan smiled gently at the doctor and shook her hand bracingly. "Thank you Dr Yang. And I'll make sure she doesn't even move a limb until you say so." Dr Yang laughed heartily and moved out the door, chan following behind her, while a nurse removed all the saline bottles hooked up to your veins. "Thank you." You said, as she threw all the bottles into the bin. She looked like a warm presence, with her hair tied into a bun, exactly how your mother used to do it. "It's alright." She fidgeted with her fingers. She mus'nt have been older than you, probably three or two years younger. "Uh Ma'am?" She approached, "I know it's insensitive to ask you in such times like this. B-but-" she looked down at the floor, "my little girl, she's 15 and she really loves your songs a-and her birthday is coming up and I saved up enough to buy her one of your albums." Your heart warmed at her words, distracting you from what happened the night before. "It really would mean the world to me if you could sign the pc. I would love to see her this weekend, since we haven't been talking much." You smiled at her and took the pc she offered you. You traced the frame of the pc and laughed at your younger self posing for the photo, dressed in a tube top that would barely fit you now. "Here you go." You handed the pen and the pc back to the nurse. "May I ask, you seem so young to have a child? Were you-" you lingered in the last words as the nurse smiled again. "Got pregnant when I was 16." She let out a chuckle. "Couldn't let my baby go, so I endured it for nine months, and now she lives with another family. I visit her from time to time to give her gifts and remind her I still exist. She's started calling me mom now!" Your heart engulfed in flames hearing the nurse's words. The excitement with which she talked about her daughter was so melodious to you, like hearing one of Chan's songs before the rest of the kids did. It was like that word you read once what was it what was it? Ukiyo! The Japanese word. To be unbothered by the duties of life, when your heart tells you to. A beautiful word, you thought. Languages really are pretty, more prettier when you notice for the first time, that you weren't alone.

"Baby can I lie down on the bed for a minute?" You had finally reached home after what seemed like the longest drive of your life. It felt lonely, to have nothing in your arms instead of having a crying baby. You didn't mention a word of it to Chan. True, letting go is easier than keeping it in, but as you looked at his bloodshot eyes and remembered Minho telling you in secret about how much your husband wept, you decided to keep it in just a little bit.

"Sure darling." Chan guided you slowly to the bedroom, his arms holding you so tight yet so fragile, "I'll wake you up when you need to eat alright?" He kissed your forehead as you hummed in response, drifting off into peacefully troubled sleep.

"Ahh fuck." You groaned as you woke up. You checked the time on your phone. It hadn't even been fifteen minutes since you slept. You decided that it was best to wake up and go outside to your husband, instead of laying in bed with your pillow giving you the worst ideas.

"Ch-channie?" You voiced out, nervously stepping into the kitchen. You couldn't see a broad shouldered figure clad in black anywhere in the kitchen, so you gave up your search there and instead strolled over to the living room.

There he was. Dozing off on the sofa, without a blanket. You smiled at him gently shivering every now and then. You could hear him muttering something in his sleep.

"No- not- fault", he kept muttering, "ocean-give the". He started shivering a little more violently, and you could see his fingers start to fidget. You sighed and went over to his sleeping figure, and upon closer inspection you saw that his eyes were twitching uncontrollably.

"Baby?" You shook him gently, to which he groaned but still didn't open his eyes. "Channie wake up." You shook him more harshly this time. "Wh-what?" He mumbled, slowly opening his eyes and blinking up at you, as he usually did on the rare times that he fell asleep. "Baby were you having a nightmare?" You plopped down next to him on the couch and wrapped a blanket around both of you. As if it was a natural response, Chan wrapped his arms around you and buried his head into your neck. "Just had a dream about the ocean." He mumbled into your neck. "Alright Mr Huggabear." You chuckled, feeling his breath on your neck, "How about we order something hmm?" Chan nodded, still not removing himself from the crook of your neck.

You picked up your phone and quietly tapped your fingers on it, ordering all of Chan's favourites, without him knowing, as he was still deep in your neck. "I'll pay." You heard him mumble, trying to stifle a yawn. "It's alright baby." You stroked his curly hair, "I already paid so you don't hav-"

The sound of the bell echoing through your house slightly startled you. Was the delivery man already here? That was certainly quick, you thought as you decided to give the delivery man a tip for his speed.

"I'll go darling. You sit." Chan finally got up, rubbing his eyes. You smiled up at Chan and got up anyways to turn the tv on, switching to the last episode of Hannibal.

"Uh baby?" You heard Chan call your name from across the house, "Paul's here!"

Paul was one of your many managers, the main one you could say. And yes, only ONE of your many managers, because a world class soloist has got to have atleast a hundred of them right?

"Hey Y/N!" Paul walked in casually, followed by some members of staff. You felt slightly uncomfortable having so many people in your house, but like a good Samaritan, you kept it in. Chan followed behind.

"Nice of you to drop in Paul." Chan smiled, "Please do sit down." Paul plopped down on the sofa opposite you as Chan sat down next to you, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. "What can we do for you Paul?" You smiled gently. Paul brushed a hair out of his face and pulled out a paper, giving it to you. "So I got the schedule for your shows." Paul smiled brightly, "Tomorrow you'll be performing in Busan and for the next month-" "I'm sorry can we pause for a moment?" Chan's stern voice shut Paul up. "She can't perform." He took the paper from your hands, and gave it back to Paul, "She's on maternal leave you know that right?" Chan eyebrows were furrowed and anger was starting to creep up to his face. You put your hand on his, a weak attempt to calm him down.

"Now now-" Paul laughed awkwardly, "no need to get angry Mr Banhg. But this is entirely Y/N's buisness not yours." "Excuse me?"

You felt Chan visibly shake beside you. "Channie-" you whispered, in a vain attempt to calm him down. "This is my buisness, she's my wife incase you didn't know. And she just had a miscarriage, so could you atleast pretend to be sympathetic, you fucking Asshole?" Flames seemed to erupting from Chan, as Paul scoffed, looking offended. "Mr Bangh I really suggest you not use such language." "And I suggest you leave right now." Chan fired back, as you watched the scene unfold, not being able to do anything, "Tell PD Nim that she cannot perform and whe most certainly will not."

"Mr Bangh." Paul started, but Chan was quicker in his words. "Nothing you say will convince me to let her go so please I suggest you leave."

"Whatever." Paul scoffed, getting up along with the rest of the staff and swinging his bad over his shoulder. "When she loses her fans because of her laziness, don't tell me I didn't tell you so." You could have punched Paul right then and there and you were going to if Chan hadn't gotten to him quicker. The glass vase on the round table fell off and shattered noisily as Chan slammed Paul into a wall. You heard gasps from the rest of the staff members and you rushed over to Chan, holding him by his arm and whispering "let him go Channie he's not worth our time" into his ear. Chan begrudgingly let go of Paul who adjusted his collar quickly and scampered out the door, along with the staff. "Hey!" Chan called out to the last staff member who was about to leave. She turned around quickly and bowed to Chan. "Tell JYP that Y/N will be on a hiatus for the next three months and Bang Chan from Stray Kids will also be on hiatus for very related reasons. Put emphasis on the related. Got it?" The girl nodded frantically and rushed out the door.

"Chan" you sighed heavily, "Alright that slamming into the wall was hot, but what was the hiatus about?" Chan meekly smiled up at you, a total contrast to how he was five minutes ago. "You're not going anywhere nor are you doing anything related to performing in three months. You're staying at home and I'm feeding you chocolate and hugs and kisses until you die." You laughed heartily and plopped down onto the couch, getting the food that had magically appeared at the doorstep.

"I love you Channie." You rested your head on his shoulder, leaning into his warmth. "I love you too babygirl." Chan kissed your forehead, "More than you could ever know."

[seaofgoldensand]

a love so cruel, it's a sin.

rafayel x mc (they/them | GN reader)

god of the tides, forbidden sea timeline

word count: ~1.5k

tw: angst, blood, murder, stabbing, major character death

summary: love will be the downfall of lemuria. rafayel has heard this one too many times and thought of it as a bunch of rubbish words, not that he would ever fall for someone, right? how can someone fall when all they have been taught is to protect and rule over an entire civilization. he would have a horrible wake up call that forces him to choose... his people, or them.

writer's note: this is the first time i'm using they/them, so if you see any mistakes or me using feminine pronouns, please excuse it. i'll look through this again at a later time. anyways, i hope you all enjoy this because phew... it's been a while since i posted something like this and oof. just stashing it.

to kiss a lemurian is to grant the human the ability to breathe underwater. 

they remembered something in the myths they read through the duration before the day they were to be sacrificed to satisfy the sea god and keep the lands safe from the god’s rage. so they had already accepted their faith; however, of course that acceptance washes away like the waves crashing against the ship that held the offerings and them.

rafayel, annoyed by the humans, could only scoff as he overheard the men speaking about what the sacrifice and offerings will do for the sea god. all rubbish. 

and he thinks they’re no better than the rubbish he was brought up to believe in or rather place his duties upon. 

to protect and rule over the entire civilization of lemuria. 

love would be the downfall of lemuria. 

suppose the seas are lucky that rafayel had no inkling when it came to love. it was hard to even form some understanding with the concept when it was never introduced. his devout follower shouldn’t have anything to do with him possibly falling in love with them. they were just a tool for the elders (such as himself) to ensure the survivability of lemuria. 

the elders never truly cared for anything else other than their sea god and lemuria.

and rafayel had no inkling as to why he would save the human, perhaps it was to get back at the humans for the misconceptions about sacrifices and to appease the angry god or perhaps he was so desperate to find a devout follower just to get elder amund off his back about the prophecy. regardless, he now had the human with him, but he didn’t know how much they were going to mean to him.

the elders saw it immediately the moment rafayel brought the human into one of the rooms rather than in some cellar below the palace. they see the way rafayel looks at his newfound devout follower and what was once something innocent and nothing derived from feelings within they had made sure rafayel would never experience to make the ceremony run as smooth as possible. 

the past transgressions of the prior sea god were beginning to show in rafayel and the elders have then since begun panicking. somewhere in the cracks of the prophecy on the slate spells the tragedy of a god falling in love with a human and the downfall of lemuria would commence.

it was hidden underneath the gold paint that was near impossible to wash off, so no one, but the elders knew of the mistakes that were made and what had to be done in order to ensure the fall of lemuria will never come true. 

that is why rafayel’s teachings had nothing to do with falling in love. if anything, they would deter him from even looking into the subject. 

“what exactly is love, elder amund?”

“something that will bring down the entirety of the civilization we have lived with for many years.”

“is it truly that horrible?”

“love blinds you from your duties. it pulls you into the depths of nothingness—a facade of something beautiful that evidently makes you forget your people. you... forget who you are.”

rafayel thinks thinks it’s a bunch of bullshit, but then again, the concept of love never crosses his mind. if he were to pursue such a thing, it would be to spite the elders. and so he thought that was exactly what he would be doing.

until it wasn’t just out of spite, but out of feelings that they managed to pull from him. it is shared between glances towards one another, the subtle brush of rafayel’s fingers against theirs, and the fleeting kisses the god would steal from them. 

it is only a tragedy when the god loves a human back. 

rafayel figured out what the elders were planning to do. the day he brought the human back to the surface under the guise of having them show him what the sunrise looks like, he meant to keep them there and not to return to lemuria, but little did rafayel know that the elders had already spoken to them about the truth of the ceremony.

how rafayel needs their heart otherwise he and the rest of lemuria would be turned to seafoam and all its glory would crumble to ruins. they agreed to continue the ceremony unbeknownst to the god himself. that is until something his devout follower stated made him aware that they were willing to give their heart just for him to continue his duties. 

his duties he never wanted to begin with. 

and it is then that he utterly despises, not only the elders, but his existence in general.

the night comes to where all hell is let loose. 

rafayel had made it clear to the elders that he would not abide to prophecy and surely there is some other way to maintain the entirety of lemuria without having to cut the heart of a human out of their chest. 

“it is rubbish.” 

“it is the prophecy, rafayel!” 

“then i refuse to do so... i—” 

“do not speak it, those words should not be carried through the currents.” 

rafayel pauses with a smirk on his face. “i love them. i will not take their heart even if they are willing to do so.” 

“rafayel!” 

but rafayel was already gone and meeting with his now lover, holding them close and cupping their face. they share a kiss and then more, limbs tangled between the sheets as they proclaim their love to one another. neither of the two lovers knew of the horrors that would come after their first and last time intertwined both in body and soul.

that would be their final night together. spoken secrets between the two, the pinnacle of lemuria’s impending downfall. 

it comes too quickly and rafayel is enraged by his foolishness. he is too late when he meets with them again. he already felt something off. the way they smiled at him wasn’t the way he remembered them doing so. it felt distant, as if something else was controlling them. they weren’t the person he had allowed himself to fall for. 

“rafayel, my love... come closer. i’ve missed you. i need you.” they whisper with a knife behind their back. “let us leave this place and live together happily. would you not like that, my lord?”

“you—” he shakes his head, but his feet move. his body yearned for theirs, there’s a scent he catches from them, oddly enough through the currents of the water that pushes against them, their clothes flowing by it and he couldn’t help but continue the steps towards, almost as if hypnotized as he gets closer to to them before stops before them. “this is not you.” 

“or perhaps... you never know who i truly was. did you not wish to take my heart for the sake of all of lemuria? how foolish, rafayel. you are utterly fool—” 

they stop the moment rafayel grabbed their face and pressed his lips hard against theirs as if somewhere in the back of his head, that kiss would break whatever spell the elders had placed upon her. “come back to me.” he whispers, desperately as he clings onto them. “come back to me, and we will escape this place. just me and you—” 

but his efforts are proven futile; his lack of ascension to godhood did not match the ancient powers of the elders who have lived much longer than he has. their magic is far more potent than anything he was able to conjure. and he knows this the moment he feels a dagger—his dagger—stabbed through his chest. the blade twists and pulls, repeatedly. he lost count after the first few stabs and yet he holds onto them tighter. 

“i will not... i cannot kill you like they wish for me to do... my love, my devout follower... my... my beloved pearl.” he speaks weakly, between harsh breaths. 

but he watches as his lover’s face twists into something foreign to him. the look in their eyes lost to the spell and he watches as their resolve slips.

they’re laughing.

they’re taunting.

“oh, rafayel, help me! help me! save me from this wretched curse placed upon me!” they giggle with a mocking tone that pierces through rafayel's chest until he finds himself collapsed on the floor.

he couldn’t understand if this was their true nature or the nature of the spell, but he feels the pain intensifying even more as his lover’s face contorts to something of sheer insanity. they flee the palace and the wake of their rampage, shrills coming from within the palace walls carry through his ears. and his final moments punctuated by the elders filing into the room. 

“we tried to help you, sea god.” 

“those who go against what is written in the prophecy must be punished.” 

“this is what lemuria becomes because of your betrayal.”

“this is your fault.” 

“you chose them over your people; you chose love... and love will be the downfall of lemuria.”

the words ring in his mind as visions of lemurians being slaughtered fills his head and the last of it was the beginning and ending to the lemurian civilization and whalefall city brought to ruins with the rest of lemuria soon to follow suit.

all because he had chosen love. and tragedy spares no one, not even the gods.

[kalevalakryze]

Saia

"Why do you paint your armor?" Shin questioned one day, knee propped up against the ledge of the table, artificial light catching the dull silver across their shins.

Sabine glanced up from her pauldron, lifting the brush up just in time to avoid dripping orange all over the drying blue, instead sending a thick blob of paint to drip onto the unprotected table, seeping between once pristine white cracks.

"Mandalorians don't wear their hearts on their sleeve, and many of us choose to cover our faces, so we paint ourselves on our ancestral armor to show the kind of people we are."

"Explain," Their legs lowered from the table, shoulders slouching as they leaned forward, brows furrowing cutely as they focused their entire attention on the artist.

"Well, okay, so our colors aren't random. Each one has some meaning as a whole, one that will be noticed by all Mandalorians, regardless of their standing with a particular group. Grey, that's the color of mourning; You'll be hard pressed to meet any of my people without it, anymore..." The smile slipped from her lips as she brushed her fingers across the plate on her chest.

"Orange is a lust for life, purple is for luck, red..." Her fingers brushed against the dark paint, grimacing at the thought of the paint she though she would never have to spread across her beskar. "Red is the loss a parent; honoring them."

"Blue is the color of reliability, teal is for those that are healing, white is cin vhetin; starting again, gold is the color of vengance, so on and so forth." Picking up a dry brush, Sabine worked away at smoothing and bleeding certain pieces together against the still wet paint on her pauldron.

"It helps us essentially judge the book by it's cover, I guess; A Mandalorian has to be able to really know who they are when they paint their armor, because that determines, or at least, used to, determine if someone was friend or foe."

"Are Mandalorians the only ones who can paint armor?"

"What? No, we don't have exclusive rights to the rainbow," Sabine shook her head. "We had to share with the Zhell," Nose crinkling at her own joke, Sabine lifted her head away from her piece. "Why, you thinking about getting out of the shiny phase?"

Cheeks flushing, Shin's shoulders shrugged as their arms moved to rest on the table, hand reaching across their chest to pull on the neat beaded braid.

"It'd be alright if you were, you know; I always figured you'd look good in blue,"

They snorted, leveling Sabine with a crinkled stare. "You said blue was for Reliability, even after everything, you still believe blue is right?"

"I've never been wrong about what color I used... sometimes the picture around it changes, it's not that the color was bad, or didn't fit the piece, it just needed time to see for itself that it belonged."

Eyebrows furrowing in speculation, their head shook. "Explain it to me like I have never seen color a day in my life,"

"You know, I heard canines may have yellow and blue on the spectrum for their vision," A dorky smile cracked Sabine's face and she had to duck to avoid a flying wet paintbrush that was flung her way.

"The point is, Kurs'kaded, you figured it out... I can't lie and say I didn't doubt it, that I was sure you would stay true to it in the end, because really, i was certain you would have let him kill us..."

Shin's expression dropped at the reminder of Peridea, the reminder of why they were aboard the Jedi's T-6, and not with their Master.

"But you did it, you kept your word... you're just,,, blue."

Shin's lips twisted in a mix of thought and doubt.

"But here, just... Gimme one piece, and I'll think on it for a few days; I'll put on it what I really think of you,"

With reluctance, Shin slid the vambrace from their right wrist, placing it on the table with a heavy thunk. "And here, so you aren't running around without armor," The artist removed her own gauntlet, motioning for them to extend their wrist.

The grey and gold beskar fell shorter than the steel alloy vambrace, stopping at only halfway up her arm instead of closer to her elbow. Shifting uncomfortably, they nodded in false understanding, got up, and promplty exited the room without another word. "Gotta stop giving women emotional talks; they keep walking out on me," The Mandalorian grumbled to herself, picking their pauldron off of the table and turning it in her hands.

▬▬ι═══════>

"Hey, Shin, wait up!" Sabine ducked out of the ghost and into the bustling hangar, grateful to catch Shin and Ahsoka on their way out of the T-6. "I finished your armor!" The adrenaline from the dogfight still rushing through her veins.

Shin blinked once at Sabine, raising their left arm to check the beskar gauntlet on their wrist, seemingly for the first time. "It took you a while,"

"Told you I had to think about it more, now come on," Sabine grabbed a hold of the Apprentice's arm, just above her gauntlet, guiding Shin back through the hangar to the ghost. Hera met their eyes and offered a knowing smile and shake of her head.

"Please don't put anymore paint on my floors!" The General called to their retreating forms, rolling her eyes at the promises from the Mandalorian bouncing back to her. "Kids,"

"Hey, she takes after you more than you'd think," Ahsoka defended with a snarky smile spreading on her face.

"Ta-da!" Sabine guided Shin inside her old room, still thick with the lingering smell of dried paint, hair dye, and the many different perfumes and colognes she'd sprayed over the years. The rebel picked up a decorated piece from the bunk, though it seemed unrecognizable to the blonde now.

The entire piece was painted a dark grey, gold outlining every scratch and dent, with dark blue paint swirling from every notch, interconnecting into a personal galaxy. White and red speckled the purples and blues in their background of mourning, creating a constellation of 'stars' that formed the image of a large wolf in the red, and a smaller wolf in the white.

"It took me a while to figure it out, but I wouldn't take back a single drop," Reaching back again, Sabine pulled the late retrieved hand plate from her pillow. Teal, blue, green, and white clashed together in the form of a crashing wave, a circle of unpainted middle sitting nestled in the darkest of blue, a Moon to always take with them.

They were sad to give up Sabine's gauntlet after weeks of learning how to use beskar to their advantage, and at first, the colors had been an overwhelming distraction. Eventually though, Shin began to embrace the colors they showed to the world, and Sabine was more than glad to help Shin see past what they may have thought of themselves before, and maybe it was a little bit to keep the light from being reflected into her eye when the sun caught her in the middle of staring at them.

[iboatedhere]

I saw the word "farmhouse" in the Henry POV chapter and promptly lost it. Thanks @rmd-writes @pragmatic-optimist and @welcometololaland for all the hand-holding you've done and will continue to do.

Tagging @rmd-writes @welcometololaland @lemonlyman-dotcom @beautifulhigh @basilsunrise @ramblingdisaster73

--

It takes two trips to unload everything he bought. The stairs are one challenge and David is another, twirling around his feet, happy to see him even though he was only gone for a short time. 

He changes into his designated work jeans, already  broken in and comfortable with a tear at the left knee and a stubborn leather polish stain on the thigh, and one of Alex’s old t-shirts, so old and threadbare he’s surprised it surprised the journey from Brooklyn. 

He takes off his wedding ring and leaves it in the gold keepsakes box on the top of their dresser, not willing to take any chances after losing it in the barn. They had found both their rings almost side by side the morning after with the metal detector. Alex had started waxing lyrical about how it must have been fate and Henry, who was so thankful to have the ring back tucked both rings safely into the front pocket of his shirt then hauled Alex into the tack room then dropped to his knees to thank him. 

In his office he pushes all the boxes out of the way then lays the drop cloths over everything. He tapes off the baseboard and around the ceiling and all the electrical outlets and switches. 

He sits back on the floor and surveys the work he’s already done, knowing he hasn’t even done the hard part yet. 

Primer, Matt had said, was an important first step. 

Henry puts the first coat on too thick and it drips off the roller onto the cloth, immediately proving their worth. 

He learns from his mistakes and gets the proper coating of primer on the wall, stopping halfway to throw the windows open and fetch a fan from downstairs to cut down on drying time and help ventilate the fumes. 

He’d never hear the end of it from Alex if he’s almost passed out again. 

While the primer dries he takes a break for lunch and takes David on a walk. Back upstairs he cracks open the bucket of Oak Grove, a moss green that reminds him of early spring at Balmoral. 

He’s halfway through the second coat when Alex arrives, stepping through the front door with a loud “honey, I’m home,” greeting. 

“Upstairs,” Henry calls. 

“Still?” Alex hollers, followed by the sound of him climbing the stairs taking them two at a time. “Did you pass out from the fumes?”

“Not once,” Henry promises as Alex slides into the doorway and huffs. 

“Holy fuck.”

“Do you like it?” Henry asks, stepping back and admiring his work. “I can’t believe how many colors there are to choose from. Do you know that there are one hundred seventy seven different shades of white?”

“Does it remind you of looking at your family tree?”

“Need I remind you you’re now a part of that tree? A little dash connects me to you forever.”

“That doesn’t change the fact that everyone else is beige to extra beige and that’s not what I was talking about.”

“But do you like the color? I thought maybe it was too dark but there’s plenty of light from the windows—.”

“I wasn’t talking about the color I was talking about you. Jesus tits, look at you.”

Henry looks down at his paint splattered outfit. “What about it?”

“What about—what about it? It’s everything. It’s unlocking a very specific fantasy that I never knew I needed. It’s like you’re the hot handyman and I’m the overworked, under-sexed—.”

“You have never once been under-sexed your entire adult life.”

“Don’t interrupt me, Handyman Henry, or I'll...dock your pay? No, that’s a douchebag move, I would never do that and depending on the contract you signed–illegal. Are you in a union? What am I talking about, this is my sexual fantasy, of course you’re in a union.”

“My god. You’re worried about my contract but not the legality of propositioning your employee? 

“Who said I was going to be the one propositioning you? Nah, you’re gonna come onto me.” 

“Am I now?” 

Alex hums and crosses his arms over his chest. “I’m gonna be in the kitchen making my dinner for one and you’re gonna come downstairs with a wound that needs to be tended to.”

“How do I wound myself?”

“I don’t know…opening a paint can? Don’t you have to shove a little thing under the rim and pop it out?”

“These cans actually have a very convenient pour spout. Matt, the clerk at the hardware store said it was a new feature. He's a nice kid. I thought he had a bit of a crush on me.”

“Of course he did, look at you.”

“Turns out he’s a fan of both of us.”

“Of course he is, look at me.”

“I am looking at you. I’m looking at you leaning against wet paint.”

“Oh shit,” Alex says as he pulls himself away from the wall.

[resident-mercie]

Leon S. Kennedy Smut One-Shot - The Shooting Range (NSFW).

➵ The mission to find Baby Eagle is exhausting, but respite reveals itself in an incredibly out-of-place room.

author's note: GN!reader, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, creampie.

"Holy fucking shit." I sigh, absolutely exhausted, reloading my handgun as a way to take my mind off of the failure of a mission we'd endured so far. No sign of "Baby Eagle", but plenty of signs pointing towards some freaky biohazard shit. Seriously, you could NOT pay me enough to stay in this profession. I fancy an early retirement if I make it out of all this alive.

"You alright?" My fiancé cracks a slight smile, but still wearing a weary expression synonymous with my own.

Thank god he's here, my one little breath of sanity in a world of consuming chaos. Leon S. Kennedy. Met at training, glued to each other's sides ever since. In a world so rife with confusion and uncertainty, he was the one thing that kept me grounded.

"Yeah." I plaster a weak smile on my face, wiping the sweat from my brow. The area seemed safe, for now, dimly illuminated by a violet light. In all honesty, I hadn't really taken in my surroundings until now, one of the sparse moments of calm on this mission. A cavern that reeked of petrichor and stagnant water, the only sound being a water droplet falling from a stalagmite suspended from the ceiling. "In all honesty though, I'd kill for a hot meal right about now."

Kennedy gave a weary smile, nodding slightly in agreement. We were exhausted, but had made hardly any progress to show for the lethargy we felt.

"Sorry to interrupt, strangers—"

Emerging from the familiar violet light, has a merchant we'd gotten used to seeing throughout our journey. There was something eerily mysterious about him in comparison to the other humans we'd met here so far, but an ally is an ally, we didn't have the time to question it.

"I hope you don't mind me saying, but see that lift over there? Should take you to a place where you can have a little break."

"Sounds sinister." Leon scoffed. "What's in it for you if we take a break and go in that lift?"

"It's good to know your own limits." The merchant chuckled. While his mouth remained covered with a violet cloth, you could see the grin in his eyes. "Wouldn't want you dying out there. Means I'd lose my two most loyal customers, heh heh."

"He's right, Leon." I plead, taking his hand. "A little rest will do us some good."

"I guess you're right." He smiles, intertwining his fingers with mine. Gesturing towards the lift with his free hand, Leon ensured that this would take us to a quiet space.

"Of course." The merchant nodded, his eyes grinning once again. "Have fun up there, strangers."

Offering a smile to the merchant, I stepped into the lift, Leon behind me. The doors closed behind us, and for the first time in a very long while, it was just the two of us.

"How are you holding up, honestly?" Leon gave a gentle smile, running his fingertips with care over the lacerations my body had endured on our journey thus far.

"I'm fine, honest!" I laugh, taking his hand. "Just a little sleepy. And hungry. I could really go for a three course meal right now."

Leon chuckled, looking down at his shoes. "When we get out of this dump, I'll take you anywhere you want, my dear. I love you. And we'll get through this, together."

I blush a little – despite the length of our relationship, I always melted a little when he called me dear, honey, sweetheart. He could wrap me around his finger that way, if he wanted to. I place my head against his chest, as he took me in an embrace, thinking about if only this moment could possibly last forever.

The lift jolted, ringing out with a little bell sound as the door pulled itself open, revealing the most opulent – and admittedly, incredibly out of place – room beyond the threshold.

"What the hell is this?"

The walls consisted of wood panelling, painted black, and adorned with decadent gold lining, where burgundy curtains were suspended from the ceiling in an asymmetrical pattern. The furniture, not arranged in any particular way, was comprised of dark oak wood, burgundy upholstery that matched the curtains, and litten golden decals that were a little scratched and scuffed.

"Whatever the hell it is, it's respite." I smile, taking a place on the couch, and relishing in its comfort. God, how I missed my bed at home. How it was so comfortable, moulding to my shape, and the way the pillows and bedsheets smelt like Leon's cologne.

"You've got that right." Leon took a seat next to me, and out of routine, I laid my head on his chest.

"I've missed this. I've missed you." I sigh, curling up close to him, looking up to his face with a sad smile.

"Me too." He sighed, before leaning in, placing a gentle kiss on my lips. He reminded me of cinnamon sugar, and I couldn't help but place my hand near the back of his head, pulling him in for another kiss. I wanted everything to stay like this forever, his lips against mine, feeling the passion build between us. "I've missed you so fucking much."

It may sound silly to some, but these missions feel like your humanity is ripped away from you. In missions like these, Leon isn't my fiancé, and I'm not his – we're each other's means of survival. So to be able to be intimate together like this? Heavenly.

"There's something I want us to do." Leon whispered, placing a kiss on my jawline, leading to my neck. "I need you to undress. If that's okay."

I nod, hurriedly getting out of my seat, and sliding my clothes off in sheer excitement – jacket, body armour, shirt, trousers, boots – everything, until I stood facing him in solely my underwear. I could see Leon drinking in my image, a mixture of admiration and lust, blushing at he watched every inch of me.

He slid his own jacket off, and came towards me, before putting his brown aviator jacket around me.

"You'll need to wear this." He smiled, unbuckling his trouser belt, as I snuggled into his jacket, relishing in the way the fur interior felt against my skin. "I love you so fucking much." He whispered, clearly desperate to take me right there and then.

I press my lips against his again, groaning a little in the pleasure, as I felt Leon's hands slip under the jacket, groping at my chest in an almost pleading way. We were both desperate, after all. Pinching a nipple, I whimper under his touch, feeling my arousal growing.

He carries me over to the burgundy couch in one deft movement, laying me down on my back, his jacket wrapped around my body lazily. I feel my breathing hitch as I feel my hands near my sex, a shy moan escaping my lips and he begins to touch my most sensitive areas. His touch was dominant yet tender, being able to see from the look in his eyes alone that your pleasure was just as arousing for him as it was for me – after all, satisfaction was Leon's prime goal.

He found his way on top of me now, almost unable to restrain himself from leaving kisses across my body, blushing when a moan escapes my mouth after he places more kisses on my neck, nearly writhing in arousal now.

"I'm ready when you are, my love." He whispers, the desperation evident in his voice.

"I'm ready, Leon." I whisper in reply. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

With an elegant thrust, I feel his cock inside of me, throwing my head involuntarily back in ecstasy. God, how I'd been waiting for this. His thrusts started gentle and slow at first, taking my hands in his, but a slow rhythm was clearly unbearable for him. He was desperate for this release, and so was I, nearly aching for his touch. We craved one another. Our bodies, our scents, our presence.

His rhythm began to quicken, and I couldn't help but arch my back in pleasure, every buck and thrust from Leon causing my body to quiver more. I couldn't help but whimper, trying my best to stop myself from cumming so early, but feeling the sensation of Leon throb inside of me was near unbearable.

Leon groaned under his breath, the pleasure clearly having snuck up on him too, his thrusts quickly becoming more erratic as he struggled to contain himself. My eyes rolled back in ecstasy, right as Leon hit just the right spot, my whimpers becoming louder, as it was impossible to stop myself from cumming in such a way. I was desperate, needy, feeling myself clench around his cock in my own pleasure.

Leon's own orgasm soon ensued, with a breathy "fuck" escaping his lips, pressing himself desperately against me, as if he didn't want the moment to end at all. He pulled out, leaving me full of his cum, running down my legs, and staining the burgundy couch underneath me. I was still panting, wanting to relive the moment so badly.

Leon placed a gentle kiss on my lips, his face mirroring my exact thought – how unfortunate it was that our moment of respite was over. There was no use complaining, we did have a mission to attend to after all – but it wouldn't be long until we craved each other's touch in such a way again.

[hellspowerthrouple]

Welcome To The Happy Hotel

Charlie had long since memorized every last detail of the chandelier that was currently hanging over her head. From the way the lights flickered off the gold painted silver chains, to the obvious crack that was forming where it was attached to the ceiling. When she'd first come to the hotel, the crack had been about an inch across; now, it was about a foot across... Threatening to drop the chandelier on the people below.

Maybe that wouldn't be so bad right about now...

"Charlie?" Vaggie asked, looking down at her. "Hun, are you okay?"

She forced a large smile onto her face. "Of course! Why wouldn't I be!? The hotel is failing! Angel Dust isn't keeping promises! Everything is a mess! Why would I POSSIBLY be upset!?" The ground began to shake as twisted, antler like horns appeared on the top of her head.

"Alright hun... Alright..." Vaggie knelt down, helping her girlfriend sit up. "I'm sure we'll get more tenants soon. We just... have had a rough start, that's all."

Charlie took a deep breath, smiling a little more genuinely this time as she picked up her cane and hopped to her feet. "You're right Vaggie! We can do this! Infact, I'm going out right now, and I'm not coming back until we have at least one more tenant for the hotel!"

Vaggie sighed, and then smiled softly, kissing her on the cheek. "Alright, I'll go look for more of Angel's stashes. Don't overwork yourself hun."

"You know me!" she replied, making her way towards the stained glass covered door. Then, about halfway there, her hell phone rang from inside her pocket.

Vaggie turned on the stairs. "Who is it?"

Charlie's eyes widened as she looked at who was calling. "Its... Its..."

"Are you alright?"

"Y - Yeah... Its just.... Its..."

"Charlie? Sweetie? What's wrong?"

"It's... my... my dad... It's pa. But I haven't seen him in... Years, at least since they split."

Vaggie's eyes widened as she rushed towards Chrlie. "Wha... But... Didn't you say your pa doesn't own a hell phone?"

Charlie shrugged, staring at the still ringing phone. "I didn't think he did either... Maybe mom or dad got it for him?" she shook her head. "Should I answer it?"

"I guess there's no harm in it.. Hopefully..."

Charlie nodded, answering the phone and putting it to her ear. "P - pa? Is that you?" There was a moment when nothing but static could be heard, then, a voice came through, speaking so loudly that Charlie had to pull the device away from her ear.

"CHARLIE MY DEAR! GOOD TO HEAR FROM YOU AGAIN!"

"Uh... Hey pa. I... Didn't expect to hear from you!"

"AH, WELL, I SAW YOUR FIASCO IN A PICTURE SHOW AND COULDN'T HELP BUT CHECK IN ON YOU! I MUST SAY, I HAVEN'T BEEN THAT ENTERTAINED SINCE THE STOCK MARKET CRASH OF 1929!" he chuckled. "SO MANY ORPHANS..."

"Uh... Pa... Could you... lower the volume a bit?"

"Ah yes! Of course my dear! It's just so good to hear from you again and I..."

"Where have you been?"

There was static on the other line, and then; "No where of importance my dear! What matters is that I'm talking to you now, and I've taken it upon myself to help you!" there was a pause, and then he hissed out; "Not like Luci or Lily would do such a thing... But anyways my dear! Look just outside your door, and you'll find two of my associates that have graciously volenteered to help!"

Charlie knew that "volenteered" most likely meant that he had used one of his soul deals to control two sinners to help her... But it was something.

"A - Alright... I guess. Thanks for calling, I didn't even know you had a phone... Since V..."

"Oh I usually don't! But let's just say I'm..." the static came back full force, so that Charlie could barely make out his next words. "Out of his range."

"Okay then..."

"Now now my dear, I don't need to see you to know that tone of voice! Smile! You're never fully dressed without one! And besides, you want to make a good impression, don't you?"

Charlie took a deep breath, and then smiled. "Yes! Of course!"

"Good girl. Now, good luck with your little project, futile as it is... I'm excited to see where it goes..." he was obviously planning to hang up the call.

"WAIT!" Charlie cried, static going through her end this time. "Wait... I... Pa, are you gonna visit?"

"Oh, eventually... I'm a bit... Out of sorts at the moment. But I'd be thrilled to see your little endevour! Goodbye my little Applepie!"

"Bye pa!" Charlie's smile returned full force as she made her way across the room. "I love you!"

The phone beeped, and she returned it to her pocket before turning towards the stained glass before her. Charlie took a deep breath, reaching for the handle...

And opened the door.

[pacifymebby]

t r o u b l e / chapter thirty two

"What do you wanna see Michael for?" Asked Isaiah later that evening as we sat together in Alfie's kitchen. We'd been served dinner and though I was hungry I'd already decided I couldn't eat the food which had been placed in front of me.

He was giving me such a cynical look, face screwed up, disbelief worn shamelessly on his smirking lips.

"He's family." I shrugged but he just chuckled and shook his head. "What?" I asked when he didn't reply, when he simply kept up that smirking raised brow stare.

"Feelin home sick all of a sudden love?" He was laughing at me, I could see the amusement dancing in his eyes. I rolled mine.

"Michaels the only one who came to our recital when we finished left lower school and moved to 16+" I said cutting up my food carefully, studying it as I did. "It'll be the same this year no doubt... If we even manage to graduate after Tommy's little shit show..."

"You're so fuckin dramatic..." He said with a smirk, "obviously you're gonna graduate," he said shoving another meatball into his mouth, pausing only to chew and swallow, cutting me off just as I opened my mouth to argue. "And, when you do... I'll come."

"What?"

"When you graduate," he said mopping up the last of his stew with a slice of bread, "I'll come to your recital or your ceremony or whatever..."

And when he closed his mouth and held my gaze I realised I couldn't bide myself anymore time by asking "what?" One more time. Realised that if I didn't have anything to say in that moment then all I could do was remain quiet or shrug him off. And I couldn't think of anything to say because I wasn't sure what to make of his statement. Wasn't sure whether I should be pleased or touched or suspicious.

So I didn't say a word about it and instead turned my attention back to the plate.

"You want this? I'm full." I said standing up before he could answer, my chair scraping across the floor as my feet hit the stone and I pushed away from the counter we'd been eating at.

"Aye go on then.." he sighed reaching for my plate, taking another piece of bread and tearing it.

I couldn't watch him eat and so instead I turned away, arms folded across my chest as I gazed out of the kitchen window.

The view wasn't particularly impressive, it was simply a stretch of roof, clean slope of grey slate cutting down from one wall to meet another clean slope of grey slate which climbed to meet another. There was a kind of hollow in the middle where the house gave way to a walled garden in the middle of the structure, a tree confined along with a goldfish pond and a bench, a bowl of water left for Cyril.

The sunset broke behind the rooftops and gold light leaked between the cracks and the nooks. Spilled over the moss which grew on the slate slopes and painted them amber shades of soft green.

Outside the evening was still and peaceful and soon to be swallowed once again by London's muted grey night.

"You don't wanna see Michael Sylvie..." said Isaiah from where he sat perched by the counter.

"I do Isaiah."

"They fucked him up pretty badly..."

"I know, that's why I want to see him..."

"What do you wanna upset yourself for girl, what's the point in that?"

"Who says it'll upset me..."

"I do alright, I say it'll fuckin upset you because it will fuckin upset you alright?" He snapped, his cutlery clattering against the table when he smacked his hand down. The sound was shrill and sharp but I didn't flinch. Just remained still, watching two magpies on the roof.

"Oh well if it's your expert opinion..." I smirked aware that I was pushing his buttons again, aware that I was about to drive him to despair once more. But I couldn't help myself, couldn't help the urge to push him until he snapped, just to prove that I could. I told myself it was to remind him that I wasn't just some girl, that I wasn't fragile, that I was just as dangerous as him. But I wonder now if it was perhaps just that I liked the tension in his jaw when he was gripped by the frustration I caused him.

"Why do you really want to see him?" He asked after another moments quiet. A moment in which I'd been able to hear him deliberately draw a slower breath, trying to calm himself down.

"I told you, he's family... And I know it's worse than John told us so I want to see him for myself."

"You want to risk your life just to prove your brothers lie to you?"

"You make it sound unreasonable but it's not."

I heard his chair scrape against the floor then too. Heard him get up. His cutlery scraping on his plate as he stacked it atop mine. I felt the shift in the atmosphere as he crossed the kitchen floor and stopped just beside me. His elbow knocked mine as he placed our dirty dishes down in the deep basin and reached for the tap.

"It won't upset me," I said again, "and I want to know who hit him... I've visited my brothers in hospital before Saiah..."

"This is worse," he said quietly, "Michael should be dead love, he ain't in any state to tell you anything..."

"I still want to see him..." I said stubbornly plunging my hands into the hot water until I found a plate I could concentrate on washing instead of concentrating too much on Isaiah, how close he was standing to me, how quietly he was talking to me.

"I'm not gonna take you Sylvie," he said with a small smirk, "y'can phone him if you're worried..."

"You said he isn't in any state to talk..." I said, eyes focussed with a dead glow on the plate I'd long since scrubbed clean. "It won't upset me." I said again knowing the words were falling on deaf ears, not expecting him to reach out to me the way he did when I said it again.

He took my chin in his hand and turned my gaze away from the plate, forced me to look at him.

Scrutinised my dead dark eyes for a moment. And though I held his gaze with a stubborn determination he saw something there I hadn't been able to hide.

"You already are." He said letting me go, taking the plate from my wet hands and resting it carefully on the dish rack.

"Fine." I said quietly, my voice so certain, so unwavering, all the sharp smoothed carefully down by my tongue, that the word fell light but lay heavy in the silence between us which followed.

He didn't say anything, just took the sponge from my hands and nodded for me to leave him to it. But I didn't want to because doing the dishes had felt like biding my time. Had given me something to think about whilst I was busy thinking about other things. It had been something for my hands to busy themselves with whilst my mind raced through calculations and weighed up suspicions.

So I remained by his side feeling blindly in the soapy water for something else I could pick up and wash. A ghost of an apology skimming both our lips when my fingers brushed over the back of Isaiah's hand beneath the water. The relief moments later when I found a knife, felt the blade dig a warning into my palm as I closed my fingers around the wrong end.

And as we stood together washing the dishes in silence I tried to think through too many things at the same time.

First their was the trouble with Sunny.

Something about Freddie Sabini's note had been troubling me since I'd held it pinched between my hands. The risk he'd taken to deliver it to our door.

Because if he'd known he'd been found out, if he'd known there was a chance he was being followed, then why had he crossed the city to our front door and left a sign.

Second there was the trouble with Michael.

I hadn't been lying to Isaiah when I'd given him those reasons for wanting to see my cousin. Michael had been the only member of our family to attend that recital. One which had felt pivotal at the time when we were only 16 and didn't realise yet that every recital, every show we danced in was going to feel pivotal. Was going to feel make or break.

At the time the flowers he'd left us had been the only good luck and the only congratulations, I'm proud of you, that we'd had. He was the last member of the family to show up to any of our performances and the week Sunny had been announced as Odette he had sent her flowers to the flat.

Perhaps his reputation with the outside world was one of a sleazy playboy always getting arrested for petty possession charges, kicked out of clubs with bulging pupils and red eyes, but he'd always found time amid his careless antics for me and Sonya.

And I hadn't forgotten that. If not especially because of the reputation he had. The bad seed. There wouldn't be a single member of the public not secretly thinking he'd deserve it if he died. And if he deserved it then so would my brother's, so would my Aunt Pol, so would Uncle Charlie, so would Ada and Esme... So would Isaiah. So would Sunny and I.

I couldn't leave him on his own in that private ward. Couldn't leave him to the company of the armed police who would be being paid to guard him but who could probably be swayed with a little nudge from a Changretta or Sabini.

Not when I knew the devastation that Polly would be gripped with having been forced by Tommy to keep her distance. He was holding her hostage in that big house too and I knew she would be desperate to know her boy wasn't alone. Knowing Polly she'd probably be able to sense the second I stepped inside his hospital room. And I hoped she would know it was me, that he was in tender company.

"Whatve you got to do before bed?" Asked Isaiah, his voice a little lower, heavier than it had been before. The warm water lapping at our wrists had clearly subdued him, lulled him and left him suddenly aware of his own exhaustion.

For that I was grateful. It was going to make my evening much easier.

"I haven't practiced today so..." I shrugged knowing he would force himself to stay up with me, knowing he would sit there in a chair in the corner of the room, watching me, longing for me to give in for the night so that he could get some rest.

And if I could wear him out just enough then perhaps he wouldn't wake when I left in the middle of the night.

"Don't you reckon you should just try an get a decent night's sleep in you?" He asked but I could tell from the way he looked at me that he new it was a futile question.

"I napped."

"Mmm sure that half an hour's done you the world of bloody good..." he said only really grumbling to himself as he pulled the plug in the sink and reached behind me for the tea towel.

I ignored his comment and took up the other half of the towel scrunching it in my own hands to dry myself off.

He kept holding it even after he'd finished, waiting patiently for me to be done.

"Well I'll wait up with you," he said letting me get away with ignoring him again as I dropped the towel and turned away. Listening carefully to his footsteps as he followed me. He flicked the kitchen light off behind him and followed me to the gym Alfie had shown me earlier that afternoon on the "guided tour." The guided tour which had been his way of showing us all the rooms we could use and all the rooms which were barred to us upon "pain of death."

He'd been fairly generous with his permissions and really his little tour had felt like simply another method of talking too much to teach us who was in charge. To have us walking on eggshells aware that every second spent in his home was thanks to his generosity. Something he'd reminded me more than once, wasn't a trait he was famed for. Impatience, contrarianism, a short fuse... Those were the traits he was remembered for and wouldn't we do well to remember that.

Among the rooms he'd barred us from were his office, his bedroom, two doors which stood beside one another at the top of the stairs on the third floor, and a bathroom. He was very particular apparently about his bathroom. I'd struggled not to smirk when he'd frowned and shaken his head. Struggled not to laugh because an infamous gangster was apparently a nitpicking germaphobe...

Among the rooms he'd been so gracious as to let us use however was a gym. It wouldn't be perfect for training because it had been designed as a boxing gym with the usual soft mat floors, punch bags and lifting equipment taking up the space I would need. But it was better than nothing and, as I was beginning to realise, more than generous coming from a man who valued his privacy and personal space more than anyone else I'd ever met.

I was expecting Isaiah to shake his head at me when I placed myself down in the center of the room and began stretching, I was expecting to be chastised, told off for trying too hard, for wearing myself out. But once we were in the room Isaiah didn't say another word to me. Instead he watched me as I crossed the room, watched me drop to the floor and begin pointing my toes, going through my gentle stretches to ease myself up. He watched me with a growing intensity, with shadowy eyes and a glowering kind of pout.

And then he stopped.

He crossed the floor, brushing past me without a second glance, left me watching him as he stopped in front of the equipment wall and began examining the sets of gloves and guards hanging from the wall.

I watched as he took a pair down, slipped them over his hands and flexed his fingers. Watched as he pulled his t-shirt over his head and left it abandoned on the floor. Tried not to watch when he moved silently and took up a fighters stance before a punching bag, his eyes steely and glazed as he flared the inanimate object down.

Forced myself to watch as he channelled his anger into every rapid punch, the bag taking it all, muting every hit. He growled, the muscles in his stomach tightening as he threw another burst of short sharp stabbing punches that left a little lump in my throat. Left a tight kind of knot in my own stomach as I swallowed down and tore my gaze away from him. Tried to focus on my stretches and then, later on my steps.

I'd thought he might tire quickly with all the sleep he hadn't had. Instead he remained determined, stubborn and cut off from the rest of the world. The sound of his rhythmic jabs punctuating my delicate turns and steps. Every teetering pirouette I managed accompanied by the consistency of his anguish landed into that punching bag.

The sound left a strange sensation settled over me. As if I was being haunted by him. Every time I closed my eyes and tried to concentrate on my steps, every time I tried to slip into my sister's shoes Isaiah would grunt or growl with the effort of his exertion, and the image of his shirtless torso rippling with tension would come back to bite me.

It was knowing I was at the heart of that tension which left the lump in my throat. The knot in my stomach. And though I told myself that that really was all it was, guilt, I knew it wasn't.

And every time I opened my eyes or stole a glance back at him I found myself hoping he'd snap out of his apparent trance and cut a glance at me. Hold my gaze as he landed one of those cutting jabs into the punch bag. Perhaps he'd feel better if he was looking at me when he landed the punch.

But Isaiah's temper didn't fade until much later, when I was at the trembling crescendo of my routine. When I was en pointe and shivering, pushing myself that one step beyond my limit. Dangerously teetering, the burn in my thigh, in my calf and in my hip, everything pulled taut and trembling. Knee brushing my ear as I held the position my sister had perfected a long time ago.

With my eyes closed I couldn't see him staring, couldn't see the way his eyes drifted over my silhouette, the way his brooding expression seemed to shadow a little more, some kind of sad awe overcoming him. With my eyes closed I didn't see anything of him at all. But I heard it.

Taglist

The silence. The gentle creek of the punch bag swinging to a halt, a stillness capturing the room. A silence I had complete power over.

For a moment the realisation threatened to dizzy me, I felt the tingling rush of selfawareness in my fingertips and cheeks. I drew a breath and forced it down. Shut it off. Remained perfectly balanced, exhaled slowly, in complete control as I began to spin slowly like a china figure in a music box. Delicate. Pristine.

And still the silence remained. Isaiah stood watching me as if he didn't recognise the girl in front of him at all. And perhaps he didn't. I must have seemed a far cry from the girl who'd put a gun to her own head and threatened to throw herself out of the window only the day before.

Perhaps now, in a state of hypnotic concentration, caught in the wrap of my celestial revolve, I appeared from certain angles, to be Sonya.

And it was that thought which choked me. That thought which seized my body so that I knew I was going to fall even before the door burst open and Alfie's voice startled both me and Isaiah.

It was the thought of Sonya which sent me toppling. It just so happened that Alfie's poorly timed entrance appeared to be the cause. The disturbance which left the fragility of my balance all too obvious when I wavered and fell from my position to the floor.

Except I didn't hit the floor. Didn't feel the unforgiving thud or the burn of friction when my thigh came down against the vinyl.

Instead I felt the thud of a chest beneath my shoulder, two arms closed carefully around me as Isaiah stumbled to break my fall and hold me secure.

Instead I felt myself overwhelmed by the warmth of being caught, the snug of someone else's embrace as he scooped me up with ease.

"Fuckin hell Solomon's you never heard of knockin?" Snapped Isaiah, his frustration vibrating through his chest and mine as he spoke, still holding me. His grip was tense but not too tight and I could tell he wasn't about to let me go any time soon. I should have minded that but in the moment I didn't. In the moment I was grateful for his arms around my waist, one hand holding my shoulder, his body shielding mine so that Alfie couldn't see the way I was left trembling like a little bird. I was breathless. Not because of the shock but because the perilous move had torn through the last of my energy reserves and now that I was being held up by someone else I was realising just how exhausted I really was.

"Ever heard of knockin? Sunshine this is my fuckin house ain't it... Oh I'm sorry do excuse me little Shelby..." he said with a faux gracious gesture, "ain't used to minding me language and your little lap dog really does have a way of tempting my worse side..." he said sneering at Isaiah.

"Don't give a fuck who's house it is mate, she coulda been hurt... Fuckin fell because of you!"

I could feel the muscles in Isaiah's arms tense as he spoke and his temper flared and when I leant back against his chest, tilted my head back to look up at him I could see his glare burning, nostrils flared as he snarled at Alfie. But Alfie hardly seemed to notice Isaiahs temper, didn't seem phased by the threat in his eyes as he chuckled and shook his head.

"You care about the little gypsys health so much Lapdog, then perhaps you might like to think about letting her stay up so late eh?" He said, his eyes softening but not soft. "What do you think little Shelby? I reckon it's past your bedtime ain't it..."

And though his condescending tone left my cheeks burning with a furious blush, my eyes shadowy with a stubborn sulk, I could feel my own frailty in every shaking breath I took. So when Isaiah spoke up again in my defense I just shook my head.

"He's right Siah, I'm fuckin tired anyway." I said trying to shrug my way out of his hold on me, but in the moment I tugged away he held me a little more firm. His hands moving down to my waist to steady me before he let me go.

And even when he let me walk free he followed so close behind that I was sure I could feel his steps overlapping mine. His chest shadowing my shoulder blades.

I stopped in the doorway, inches from Alfie. Looked up at him with wide and blinking innocent eyes.

"Goodnight Mr Solomon's" I said as sweetly as I could, my smirk tugging at my lips when I curtseyed, held his gaze with a simmering glare to let him know I was laughing at him still.

"Call her Gypsy one more time..." growled Isaiah, his eyes full of disgust when he snarled at the older man. The two of them starring eachother down in the doorway, neither one willing to back down.

Alfie let out a low whistle, his eyes twinkling with unforgiving amusement.

"Get a muzzle for your pet little Shelby..." he chuckled as he stepped inside the gym and watched us walk back down the hall together.

@inalovesrabbits-blog

@cocoaflowers

@zablife

@jomarch-wannabe

@itsghostgirlyo

@marwwfairy

@toddlerbodybag

@everysage

@tommyshelbyswhore

@kas3ylovesyou

@kxnnxy

@starrykitn

@call-sign-shark

@only-malala

@galactict3a

@darkcastle167

@liliac-dreamer

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@mollybegger-blog

@vanhelsingsbigtoe

[alexanderlightweight]

Wednesday prompt :) what if the reason Valentine made Luke a wolf was that a wronged nephilim in a parabatai bond can declare the other an oathbreaker, to trigger divine judgement, and if the judgement finds fault with the other you get back your soul piece and the other is punished? What if Alec, faced with another entitled and selfish rant, just snaps and declares Jace an oathbreaker?

okay so I couldn't figure out a way that would work like you were wanting but i did really like the idea that traditionally, a ritual with the silent brothers as a conduit to raziel is the only one allowed to judge and break a parabatai bond

this is actually an au of all your cracks i'll paint gold. because my thought is that an alec who didn't have the faith or hope to wait to give jace till the very last minute (because until the first rune is taken, some part of alec still believes jace is coming). this alec knows he's about to be deruned and he wants to lose his parabatai bond on his own terms. because fuck if he's going to let the clave tear him from jace, he's going to ask raziel to judge them and whoever ends up taking the brunt, so be it. because only raziel can judge the bond between him and jace.

also a part of alec expects to be the one judged as an oathbreaker. he's really tangled up in his own thoughts at this point and he knows he's not thinking straight which makes him doubt himself.

alec wants answers and to fuck the clave by not letting them get their way.

also tbh, for parabatai, i think the loss of the bond itself, especially not knwing what is happening would feel like divine punishment itself. especially for two peple who are so devout to the bond.

i hope you still enjoy <3

lumine

-

Alec doesn’t know what to do, but there is only one thing left to try and Jace is going to lose him either way. This is the most selfish thing Alec’s ever done in his life and he almost doesn’t do it, until he thinks about how long he’s been sitting here, alone.

Jace isn’t coming. Alec knows that at this point. Wherever his parabatai is with Clary, it’s far beyond anywhere that Alec can reach him in time.

And Alec can’t stay sitting here, waiting to be deruned whenever Imogen gets bored of making him wait.

Treated like he isn’t a Commander and not even given the choice of someone as a witness of his own to keep watch.

“I demand the presence of a Silent Brother for an oath.” Alec rasps to the next shadowhunters who pass, and they wince, looking at him with concern but they shake their heads.

Imogen has scared them all with his imprisonment and Alec is paying the price. Alec is normally the backbone of his Institute, the shield between him and the clave and while they trust him to do that, Alec’s never been their official leader or had the chance to make these hunters completely his.

It’s with a snarl and the determination of spite in his heart — because what was the point of any of this? Of denying himself and Magnus even a moment of anything if this is the way things end — and Alec spits his blood and saliva onto the ground.

It’s grueling work.

Alec was already tired from patrol and the mess with Meliorn when they dragged him to a cell and pronounced him a traitor.  There’s been no soul sword and no trial. They want an example and they’re not afraid to use Alec as one.

Where once, Alec would have assumed he had the protection and privilege of the Lightwood name, he knows now that none of it is true. He’s protected himself and his siblings by his own merits, despite their name, all of these years.

So, Alec reaches deep within himself and calls forward the blood magic that every nephilim is told about but rarely any ever attempt.

It’s a brutal, vicious magic that can turn even the simplest of magical desires into an onslaught of eldritch curses.

Alec uses the blood from his split lip and cut cheek and paints a series of runes before placing his hand down and willing it to activate.

His fingers shatter from the pressure he’s using t push down at the same time the array activates and Alec smiles in satisfaction, copper thick on his tongue.

—

“The Silent Brothers have been summoned and so will remain, especially for a trial we were not notified of.”

“Because this isn’t a trial.” Alec rasps out, “I’ve been asked no questions and offered no recourse. I request two things of the Silent Brothers, one of each.”

“Your requests?”

“I declare a broken oath between parabatai. I wish to let the angel judge my parabatai and I’s bond, not the clave.”

Alec isn’t going to fight his deruning, he can’t.

But he’s not going to let the clave strip away his bond, the angel himself can do that.

“The second request?”

“After the first is finished.” Alec says firmly, not about to let them know that his request depends on how the ritual goes.

“Very well. You will need a warlock to maintain your vitals.”

Alec hates to do it, but there isn’t a warlock who he trusts more than Magnus and Alec is very tired of being betrayed.

—

“What is going on?” Magnus asks tightly, because the Institute is full of strange nephilim and there isn’t a single one he recognizes. Which normally isn’t strange, except it wasn’t like this even a week ago.

“You’ve been requested to monitor and maintain the vitals of the nephilim, Alexander Gideon Lightwood, during a ritual.” The Silent Brother escorting him informs him with their invasive way of communication.

Magnus freezes, because this sounds dangerously close to the idea that he’ll be holding Alexander’s life in his hands.

“And he knows I am the warlock working with him?”

“You are the only warlock he would agree to work with.”

Magnus wonders at what that means and curses the flare of hope in his chest. As he enters the room he frowns, noticing it’s heavily guarded by what are clearly clave guards.

They sneer as he passes and Magnus lets his glamour drop, smirking as they flinch from him.  The cell-like quality of the room means he’s not prepared for Alexander when he enters, though he should be.

Alexander looks exhausted and worse than Magnus has ever seen him, and his eyes are dull. There’s a small spark, the softening of Alexander’s gaze on him. When their eyes meet there is wonder and curiosity for a brief heartbeat before Magnus’ glamour goes back up and Alexander’s eyes drop to the floor.

“Well, this is not how I imagined seeing you again.” Magnus says, trying to soften his words but he’s surprised, and he can’t help it and the hope makes him coy. “In my dreams, I imagined crashing your wedding. Not being summoned here to keep you alive.”

Alexander lets out a hoarse, defeated laugh and shakes his head. “There’s not going to be a wedding to crash, Magnus. I’m being deruned for treason. If I’m alive in a week, it’ll be considered impressive.”

Magnus feels his heart crack with the icy hands that have suddenly grabbed it.

“Tell me, everything, Alexander. Now.”

Alec sends him a weary, hopeless gaze and then shrugs, his hoarse voice forming words that tear into Magnus’ cracking heart.

—

Alec recites the words of his oath, the one that will allow Raziel to judge the bonds of his and Jace’s soul.

If he’s to lose this, then he’s going to do it by his own choice.

He expects the pain, when it comes, but it’s more excruciating than he thought it would be. 

The part of Jace’s soul that is melded with his own is burrowed tightly. It writhes and tugs and fights leaving, and Alec is too tired to do anything but accept the pain and the struggle. He doesn’t even have the energy to fight for himself, he certainly doesn’t have the energy to fight for Jace one last time.

Instead, he lets him go and wonders, whose soul will be returned to who.

—

Magnus has never seen such a gruesome, intimate ritual in all of his life, and it galls him at how many are watching it.  He’s keeping Alexander’s heart beating only through the strength of his magic, or Alexander would be lifeless on the flat table they’ve laid him on.  There is nothing to comfort him or ease him from the cold marble and Magnus seethes that he wasn’t allowed to add any kind of magical cushioning.

It’s as if they want Alexander to feel the most discomfort possible.

He can see it in Alexander’s eyes, the surprise and confusion of waking up and it breaks apart the walls he tried so hard to hastily rebuild.

Alexander didn’t expect to wake up and Magnus was the only one he trusted to make sure that if he did die, he was properly taken care of. Death is an intimate affair for shadowhunters, and Magnus knows the honor he’s been given, but every part of this except keeping Alexander alive feels like a curse.

Because what could have happened in the mere days since they last talked and saw each other, to send Alexander spiraling so low? When he was so proud in his own misguided beliefs the last time they saw each other.

“His soul and bond have been judged. Alexander Lightwood’s soul has been returned to him; he has not broken the oath of his bond.”

Alexander doesn’t look pleased by the pronouncement, if anything the distress and grief grow before they’re hidden away.  It’s then that Magnus realizes, while there are a variety of important shadowhunters, there isn’t a single person there connected to Alexander. 

“Is family not allowed?” He asks casually, smirking at the Silent Brother, because all of their order know Magnus’ reputation enough that it’s better to indulge his curiosity.

“There was no family willing or available to come.” Is what he’s told instead of something like, ‘they’re not allowed’ and Magnus, Magnus itches with the urge to destroy something.

“And Alexander?”

Whatever information Magnus is about to learn, is interrupted by Alexander himself.

“My second request, to the Silent Brothers. To request the right of severance. A trial of law.”

Magnus is curious and he raises an eyebrow imperiously at the Silent Brother standing near him.  Magnus hears the mental sigh before he’s told, “to request such a thing, means the clave has first betrayed the nephilim requesting it. There is no risk besides the soul sword knowing it is a lie and he is still due to be deruned. If he cuts himself from the clave, the clave cannot destroy first destroy him.”

“Does he need a magical aid?” Magnus asks without thinking, because of course he wants to help Alexander get away from the people doing this to him.

“Only comfort, when the strength of his own will finally fails him.”

Magnus wonders what that means but he has no further interest in what is being said and he takes the five steps that separate him and Alexander.

“What will happen, when you succeed in the next ritual?”

“I might fail.”

“You won’t.” Magnus assures him, his fingers light as he boldly places his hand on Alexander’s shoulder. Alexander stiffens for a moment and Magnus almost moves, before Alexander visibly relaxes and leans even closer.

“I’ll be allowed to leave the clave, though I doubt any Institute will take me. I wouldn’t trust them either, not anymore.” It’s a bitter thing for Alexander to admit and Magnus can tell. “I’ll still have my runes; I won’t be hunted. I can hide in the edges of the mundane world if I need to. I’m sure Night Markets have some use for what I can hunt.”

Magnus tsks and tightens his grip on Alexander’s shoulder and sends a soothing, warming pulse through Alexander’s muscles. His shadowhunter has been shivering since the ritual and not a single shadowhunter has offered him a blanket.

This entire time he’s been dressed in thin clothes, the kind nephilim are buried in, as if his fate is already decided on. Magnus is going to burn the horrendously white shirt and pants Alexander is wearing and never let him wear the color again.

After Alexander agrees… of course.

—

Alexander’s voice is low, but strong as he speaks his truth upon the soul sword. It carries across the room as he grips the soul sword and speaks.  He looks at no one but Magnus as he talks, repeating line for line the various laws the clave have broken in his case. Even Imogen looks a little pale when he’s done, as if hearing the truth of her own crimes is worse the committing them.

Alexander seems stunned when he’s finished.

As if he didn’t really think it would work, as if he thought he might actually be in the wrong and Magnus heart breaks.

“Alexander—” Magnus murmurs as he walks towards him, for his shadowhunter’s eyes haven’t once looked away from Magnus’ unglamoured ones. His dark eyes are weary as he watches Magnus, there’s no satisfaction in having one.

Hazel eyes widen in shock as Alexander watches Magnus reach out and wrap his fingers around the hilt of the soul sword.

“None of it has ever been a game. I would cherish you, darling. Far more than the clave, your family, your parabatai or even your exalted angel, Raziel.” The sword doesn’t stop him from speaking, because it isn’t a lie. Raziel cares little for the race he created and what Magnus is starting to feel for Alexander can’t be matched even by a divine being.

Let alone the petty, hateful mortals that have brutalized Alexander’s heart and soul so badly.

“What if you get tired?” Alexander asks and Magnus knows he’s too worn to voice the ‘of me’ aloud.

“I will keep you for every moment of your life.” Magnus tells him, swearing upon an angelic relic that croons temptingly to the corrupted blood in Magnus. “I will never throw you from me. Or give up on you. Whatever exists between us, it can grow to whatever we let it and no matter what that is, I will never abandon you. You, just you, would be enough, Alexander.”

Alexander wraps his trembling arms around Magnus and nods, “then take me away. Please, Magnus. From all of it.”

Magnus smirks at the one Silent Brother who never approached him and Jem nods in return. If his friend hadn’t told him about the properties of the soul sword in detail, this never would have worked.  However, Jem isn’t afraid to toe the line of nephilim law and Magnus has never seen him so enraged as he was when he pressed against Magnus’ mind in secrecy earlier.

The clave cannot refute Magnus’ words, not when sworn on the soul sword or witnessed by two Silent Brothers and that means that this is binding.

The clave no longer has any say or power over Alexander, only Magnus does.

[bambistan]

A correspondence between jegulus in a homophobic world bc angst.

⬇️⬇️⬇️

Dear Regulus,

It's been a while since we last spoke, but . . . I was thinking of you today.

I was by the ocean, and the greying clouds created a storm as beautiful as the one in your eyes. I couldn't bring myself to look away, even as it turned violent.

I fear I'll spend every second of my existence longing for someone I can't have . . . Someone I shouldn't want.

I wish one of us wasn't condemned to live in a man's body. Maybe then, I could love you as loudly as I please.

Maybe then we could've been together.

Sincerely,

James

~*~

Dear James,

Much to my own dismay, I was excited to receive a letter from you. We'd agreed not to speak - though is writing really speaking?

I share your sorrows, your pain. I know the feeling all too well as it has made a home inside me.

In the darkest hours of the night, I fantasise about how differently things could've gone had I been born a girl.

I miss you.

Sincerely,

Regulus

~*~

Dear Regulus,

I will admit I hadn't expected a reply - I thought you'd hated me. However, I'm pleased to know you miss me.

I miss you too.

I miss waking up next to you. Watching as the sun slips through the crack in the curtains and paints your face in the most extraordinary shade of gold.

I miss having you close to me. Feeling your head on my chest, rising with each breath I take, ever so slightly.

Do you remember that day in the orchards?

Sincerely,

James

~*~

Dear Jamie,

How could I forget?

We'd exhausted ourselves on the race there and ate almost every apple on every tree.

However - shamefully - my favourite moment was afterwards, in my parents' lake.

I can still recall the feeling of water rippling as you moved against me. The words you whispered in my ear as your grip on me tightened.

I'd sell my soul to go back to that day.

Sincerely,

Regulus

~*~

My dearest,

Regulus,

You have no idea the things you do to me.

If anyone knew, I'm sure I'd be castrated and hung for my crimes - but I'd die with a smile on my face.

Why did we ever stop?

We could go back to that day together.

I need you like I need air. Please come back.

Yours,

Jamie

~*~

Dear James,

Please do not make this harder for me.

You know why I can't go back. There are people who hold such hatred for love like ours.

My parents, the church, everyone in that godforsaken town.

I have to kneel for hours on end in the darkness of the church basement to repent for my sins. To forget you had ever existed . . .

But I cannot.

Even if it hurts . . . I fear that's when I love you most.

Sincerely,

Regulus

~*~

Dear Regulus,

Just say the word and I'll come to you.

Please, my love, I am desperate. It's been years, yet without you, they feel like centuries.

We could run away together - live in the mountains. You always did like caves.

I don't know any other way to ask then to beg, so please please please . . .

Come home to me, love. Let me come to you.

Please.

Love,

James

~*~

Dear Regulus,

I had hope for a while. I'd thought your inability to write back was due to your travelling.

However, it became apparent that that wasn't the case as you would've reached me already.

I can only assume my feelings aren't reciprocated and your previous letters were nothing but a reminiscence of good times.

I will bother you no longer.

Fondly,

James

~*~

Dear Regulus,

It's been months.

I know I swore not to write but is it really so hard to pick up a pen and tell me to fuck off?

I'd do anything you asked, including leaving you alone, so just say the word, and I'm gone.

I'll be, but another memory you smile fondly at before passing by.

Sincerely,

James

~*~

Dear Regulus,

You know it's not like me to give up.

I will fight for the things I want - and I want you.

Madly, desperately, I want you.

Feel free not to answer my sorrows, but know that they will never stop coming.

Love,

James

~*~

Dear James,

Come to me.

Love,

Regulus

Yay!! Happy ending.... Or is it?

[metatronhateblog]

The Opening Credits Pt.1 Jimbriel

Okay so as I'm sitting down to take a crack at ciphering the angelic language on the show, I've come tot the conclusion that I have so many clues and other things I found, that it's time for me to start slowly dropping these out because boy oh boy have I been collecting clues and theories like a dragon hoards golds. I've also added another member to this blog who will be posting theories and clues as well.

That being said, welcome to the Sequence of Opening Credits Post Part 1, or the I sat down and played the opening credits at .25 speed and took screen grabs of everything weird I found. (Which, brief disclaimer, my eyes are not perfect and I'm bound to miss things, even my glasses don't 100% correct my vision. There's bound to be things I miss and if you happen to find them feel free to add in your finds!)

Today I'm starting off with Jim/Gabriel. Since it was said recently in a panel he's in every scene of the opening, and I knew that cause I've found him...at least I think I found all his appearances... I'm going to start this series of posts off by sharing them with you.

Right off the bat, we have him in the scene directly after Crowley lights a match in a cave.

He's there, nice and clear and noticeable. Keep that in mind because I think that's the most openly we see him in the opening credits.

The next scene after the goats his the graveyard scene. He's already a little trickier to find.

And for those who don't see him in that picture, here's a closer look.

Next seen they enter the mausoleum and you see Gabriel as they decline

(I'm realizing now that if I use too many images there might be a parts 1.1 lol) Any ways after hiding behind that tombstone shaped similarly to (but not quite) the one that says 'Here lies the former shell of Beelzebub) we see him (or at least me, I'll be honest I don't see him when they're walking over the lake of fire) Is in London??? Getting bombed.

Now is you don't see him here that's okay, I told you it gets harder.

He's standing here in this window, even more interesting to me, once the plane drops the bomb that explodes into rabbits...

He's hiding his head in the box lol.

Moving on, I ALMOST didn't see him in the next scene (walking through West End) because I shit you not, he's tucked away in a little nook.)

He is actually hidden (paint me like one of your French girls style) IN THE FRONT of the scene. Makes me wonder if that's where he might be when they cross the lake of fire.

Moving on. Next time we seem him is in space, while Crowley and Aziraphale are doing an interesting little 'swapping sides dance.' Our mans is clinging for dear life lol

In the next scene is where I get confused. Crowley and Aziraphale are sitting on the roof aaaaand...

Jimbriel is standing above 'Give Me Coffee or Give Me Death?' Why not about the bookshop??

In his next appearance....he actually has wings? Which is sus to me again but what isn't sus about this show lol. Jimbriel is in an elevator, riding down as the line of people making their slow death march pass.

Using all my will power to acknowledge the blatantly weird things in this screen grab alone, I move on.

In this one, I will momentarily ignore our boys kissing in the opera box and instead show you, Jimbriel. ALSO in an opera box.

Now I'm not sure Jim is in the direct next scene cause no one is, but there is a falling apart? statue of Gabriel in front of Mount Zion.

Aaaaand finally we have him walking along with everyone else, preparing to seal his fate. I won't do a close up of this one because he's right there.

And that concludes The Opening Credits Pt.1. I would say something more, make a little theory or something, but I don't think there's much to say on Jim giving someone (whose name currently escapes me) said in an interview Jim is in every scene. So anyways. Here's this for you to hold as reference, or just look at, or ignore cause I'm not sure myself how important it is. (Yay me for fitting this all in one post!)

Anyways I'm going to get started on cracking this Angelic language. Stay tuned for more Opening Credits posts because believe me. I have more.