#everything has a glow permanently now to them

[lazyjellyfish300]

hi, jelly 💕 bee here!

about the Miguel blurbs, how about this: Migs has a crush on reader, but he tries to ignore his feelings and treats her like he would anyone else. but when reader gets stood up on a date, Miguel crumbles and comforts her.

it can be on Spider-Verse or any other au you prefere.

sending you lots of love!

Bee my lauvv!! Ty for the request!!! 🖤🖤🖤I also made it so you have a crush on Miguel too hehe. Here ya go!!

Stood up

Miguel O'Hara x Fem Spider!Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

CW: ANGST, FLUFF, BETRAYAL, PINING. MIGUEL AVOIDING FEELINGS, BIT SUGGESTIVE, MINORS DNI

----

Your boss is a hard egg to crack. You do your best to impress him. Going the extra mile, setting an example to your fellow spiders, even fine with bearing the label of boring co-worker once in a while when you gracefully shut down the banter between you, Hobie, Pav, Gwen, Margo, and Miles that has gone on a little too long. Reminding everyone to stay on task. 

You do it for him after all. You pity the guy, just wanting to be the reason he has one less frown line and one less grey streak in his hair. 

Also the fact that he's really handsome and has just about every quality you admire in a person. But that's besides the point.

He keeps the same stoic look on his face, almost like he's tired of you. After a while, you get the picture, backing off little by little. Doing your best to put all your efforts into being the best Spidey you can for your Earth. Putting your handsome boss out of your mind. 

For now. 

----

Of course he notices. He's not a professional at social cues but come on, you make it so obvious. How you wait up for him, the way you stop what you're doing just to turn your attention to him not even a second after he enters a room. You must have memorized his footfalls coming from a mile away, and not just because of your Spidey senses. 

But the worst part is the fact that he not only notices. He also appreciates it more than you know. And what you don't know is he feels the same if not more strongly about you than you could ever imagine. 

Shock. 

Thank God that spiders aren't mind readers, a deep blush painting his face at the thought of you accessing the diary of cringe that was his brain that housed the obsessive and love sick thoughts he had about you. 

You were everything Spider-Woman (or let's be honest, more like his dream employee) should be. Composed, focused, thorough, calculated, patient, and PUNCTUAL. (arguably his favorite quality out of all of them) 

But one thing you won't get out of him is any blaring indication that this silly little crush exists. No, there's a multiverse worth saving that is permanently at the risk of imploding at a moment's notice, all because a Vulture decided to have a heyday on the beach in some aquatic dimension because he's never seen the ocean before. 

No, he needs to keep it all business. Repeating that mantra in his head over and over again every time you come walking in with that glow on your face that he could just pluck effortlessly out of a crowd of many. 

She's just like everyone else. She's just like everyone else. 

But damnit when you showed him that gorgeous smile. 

Those deep eyes of yours. Bottomless.

Sucking him in like the holes in the multiverse he dedicated his entire life to patching. 

And when you spoke, it was like you had his full attention. Putting that advanced hearing to good use as he tuned out the rest to hone in on what enriching thing you had to say next, no matter how mundane it was. Clutching it like he was a seagull and you were a loaf of bread shredding crumbs. 

---

To stifle the burning sting of rejection, you found your attention being taken by another, golden haired Spider-Man, Ben Reilly. 

He'd tell jokes occasionally, smirking when you returned with equal friendly fire, indulging you with letting you try out his protein shakes and spotting you at the gym, jaw falling open with surprise and a growing attraction when you continuously reset your PR. 

You thought you weren't misreading the signs he was giving you. He wasn't shying away from your touch. In fact, he was the one who couldn't keep his hands off of you. Feeling yourself get warm in tingly places when his hand lingered on the small of your back. 

When you were eating the famous Miguel burgers in the cafeteria and he used his thumb to get a stain of ketchup off your lips, definitely making a point to keep those electric blues on you as he slowly brought the ketchup stained finger to his own mouth, licking it up. 

But I guess you did.

Even though he was the one that pulled you into the closet, stealing breathy moans from your lungs as you kissed him like he was your only source of oxygen. 

Even if he did tell you he's always been obsessed with you. 

Even if he did send you memes and songs that reminded him of you.

Even if he did send you "Goodnight, beautiful." every night before he fell asleep. 

And you sat there on the picnic blanket waiting with enough food for two people for the date HE asked you out on only to leave you hanging instead, wondering where he was all afternoon. 

You made the mistake of calling his watch, only for a mystery woman's voice mixed with his, and sinful sounds to come out of it. 

You hung up with tears stinging your vision. 

No matter how perfect you tried to be or how diligent you were, how interesting or funny you thought you could be, how pretty you thought you looked, somehow every time you decided to lower your guard just a little bit, life swiftly humbled you and made you realize you should have never taken it down. 

You weren't good enough for Miguel and you weren't good enough for Ben. You're a silly girl who projects her unrealistic standards onto things that just don't happen in real life. 

Or maybe they just don't happen for you. 

-----

Miguel is checking on the baby ducklings by the pond at the Spider Society HQ gardens when he hear what sounds like soft crying coming from a little spot tucked between some trees. Curious, he follows it until he finds you down on your luck, stood up by a guy who wasn't worth your time. 

This tough guy act he had put up crumbles instantly when he sees tears flowing down your cheeks for the first time. There was no reason a lovely woman like you, who wouldn't hurt a fly, who worked her ass off, who was kind to others, 

who inhabited every single thought he had and kept him awake at night, should be crying like that. 

"You okay...?" He asks, ducking underneath a branch, sitting on the blanket with his feet off to the side so he doesn't spread any dirt on it. 

"Heh...no..." you answer weakly, occupying your hands by opening a canned Arnold Palmer and popping a cracker covered in the homemade spinach artichoke dip into your mouth. 

"¿Porqué?" (Why?) He leans forward on his elbows, patient cardinals peering at you waiting for your response. 

So, you explain to him how you started falling for this guy and he sent you all these signs that said he was falling for you too, only for the road to lead to a dead end and a broken down car of disappointment, catching him standing you up to go mess around with some other girl instead. 

Miguel silently seethes on your behalf, not loving hearing how wrapped around this guy's finger you were but happy to sit and listen if that's what you needed to feel better. 

When you tell him it was Ben, he already has a little something planned for him, hoping that HR won't catch up to him for switching Ben's assignment to Earth-67. (A dimension with a notoriously annoying reputation among spider society with ungrateful and sassy inhabitants. That should do the trick.) 

Besides he's the boss. Rules can bend if he wants them to. And he normally would never do this but he'd just about do anything for you. 

".....I even made club sandwiches." You sigh at the end of your rant, gesturing to the stacked sandwiches in their matching containers with cute little puns written on them. 

Miguel feels his mouth salivate at the buffet you got there. But that was the least of his concerns. He's here to cheer you up, not steal your food. 

But, I mean, there's no way you can eat all of this by yourself, right?

His stomach makes a lengthy announcement to both of you that he hasn't eaten in 12 hours, much to his embarrassment. 

With a smile, you shyly ask him if he wants to help you out here, since you'd hate for all this food to go to waste. 

That's what lead to you both munching happily, the sun sinking lower in the sky but you both paid no mind, thoroughly enjoying the other's company. 

That old little crush of yours started to set alight once again while his just fanned into an all out wildfire. Never guessing that actually spending some time alone together would go so well or that you'd wind up speaking like you've known each other for years. 

"What is the perfect job for a spider?" He asks.

"Mmm, I give up."

"A web developer." 

"Hah...uh...yeah... that one's honestly terrible." You shake your head, realizing your sense of humor really has gone downhill in recent years if that's the best one you could find. 

He rolls up the sticky note, tossing it into the garbage bag of shame. "Total squander of his talents if you ask me."

Your turn, "Why was the spider so smart?" You barely wait five seconds before you answer your own joke. 

"He spends all his time on the world wide web!" 

"Lies." Miguel says with a chomp of his sandwich. 

"What do you mean?!"

"Utter lies. I know anyone who spends more than an hour online daily is not the brightest." He smirks as he pops another spinach artichoke dipped chip in his mouth. 

"Coming from the guy with over 6 surveillance monitors he watches every day from 9-5!"

"I work from 5-8 but that's besides the point."

You suddenly feel brave, after spending over two hours letting him cheer you up, deciding to put your comfort with him to the test. 

"Well, you think you could shave off a couple hours for me so we can do this again next week?"

He looks at you like you're the answer to his prayers. 

Yes, yes absolutely he could.

--- 

And so it became weekly. Then it became daily. Until you no longer needed a picnic basket.

Both sandwiches in complimenting lunch bags side by side in your shared refrigerator of your shared home together. 

He smiles down at you while you sleep, knowing he slipped you an extra dessert in yours that he thinks you'll really like, closing his eyes to savor the final 3 minutes you have side by side before you both need to get up and shower for work. 

----

🫶🏽

@1-900-venusluvs @thatone-writer

[greaserink]

I LOVE learning to be a butcher but like, my eyesight is now permanently fucked up from the amount of bleach that has accidentally gotten in them from this job

[merchant-wizard-and-jerry]

(This is going to be linked as the card drawing post from now on)

(List of effects)

TP who TC Gains partial divinity

TP who TC can ask one question to the universe and gets a true answer

TP who TC is immune to all undead for 24 hours

TP who TC can ask one request of the Flock of seagulls

TP who TC gains absolute mastery of there most proficient skill

TP who TC gets there perfect ideal of a follower summoned, the follower is made of stained glass

All people who wants to attack TP who TC becomes completely peaceful

TP who TC has the vision permanently enhanced by 4x

TP who TC brain grows 10x as fast and smart for 1 hour

the next good effect drawn from TD is doubled

TP who TC has everything blue that there touching enchanted randomly.

TP who TC gains a skeleton key

TP who TC arms turned to metal (I forgot to say, for 1 hour)

TP who TC is recognised as a minor noble in the nearest nobility system

all eyes in a 1 mile radius of TD glows gold for a year

TP who LC gets magic equal TP who C's magic capabilities for 1 spell

TP who TC can see how corrupt anyone is

TP who NC has there card effect double

TP who TC can identify if it’s safe to drink any water they see

TP who TC gets 10 currency

TP who HC has control over a small company of knights

TP who TC gains scales for 1 hour

TP who TC begins to be observed by a god

TP who TC will have all cuts immediately scab over for the next month

(Automatic custom card)

TP who TC is turned into an animal chosen by TP who NC for 4 hours. TP who TC keeps their mind, unless this card is drawn again in the same time and the same animal is chosen. If it is picked again but with a different animal, TP who TC will hybridize as both animals.

TP who TC plays a game of 20 question, if you win, you get a clue finding spy glass. If you lose you lose an eye.

TP who TC next spell will go wild

all water in a 30 foot radius of TD turns into wine

TP who LC has its effect happen to TP who TC

TP who NC has TP who LC effect added to theres

TP who NC will gain the ability to know where you are at all time

TP who TC has all there hair light on fire, they are not armed nor is there hair

TP who TC experiences 1 years worth of advanced mutation that would be handy in this situation

all grass in a 3 yard radius of TD turns into a fungus based alternative

TP who TC will lose all their hair and have it regrow in a 24 hour period

TP who TC is swarmed by pollen

TD loses its magical effect for 10 minutes

TP who TC gets struck by lightning

TP who TC if they have a scarred over stump it grows cactus spines making it impossible to restore, if not you are immune to cactuses.

TP who TC loses their sense of smell for 10 min

in a 1 yard radius around TP who TC rain will clouds form and rain for 1 week

TP who TC becomes a telepathic potted plant for 1 hour. they're completely inanimate but still conscious anyone who touches them is given a random effect from these options #1. they too become a telepathic potted plant but without the secondary effect #2. they get healed a whole bunch (regenerating limbs n such. but no resurrection) #3. their clothes are replaced with grass and leaf equivalents that are not very covering.

TP who TC becomes a potted telepathic plant for a year

TP who LC attacks you

TP who TC loses all of wealth

TP who TC has there most prized possession trapped in this card for 1 year or until they tell someone a deep secret

all events that took place in the last hour reverts in a 20 yard radius of TD

TP who TC Dies

TP who NC will gain control of your body for 1 minute

(List of terms)

The person (TP)

The deck (TD)

Drew this card (TC)

Drew last card (LC)

Draws next card (NC)

Holds this card (HC)

(Rules)

You can ask pay for a card with 10 currency

When you pay you can specify our of character whether you want a random card or if you want me to make a new one for you

If I make a new one I’ll add it to the list

Also if the card calls for good or bad it is referring to thirds, the first 1/3 is good, the last 1/3 is bad and the middle in neutral, round down and give the neutral the extra cards.

If you pick random, roll for me out of the numbers and tell me what you get

[niki-phoria]

⋆｡°✩ I KISSED THE SCARS ON HER SKIN / I STILL THINK YOU'RE BEAUTIFUL

kissing their cursed marks with itadori yuuji, inumaki toge, kamo choso

notes: gn reader (no pronouns used), maybe ooc choso ?? he's a little insecure, sad yuuji, not proofread, header from pinterest, title from pierce the veil - a match into water

ITADORI YUUJI has the weight of the world on his shoulders. it’s a heavy burden to be the vessel of the strongest curse jujutsu sorcerers have ever seen - one that places an unrelenting amount of pressure on him to be perfect, lest the world be destroyed due to a moment of lost control.

yuuji moves in a daze as he trudges back to jujutsu high. some of the tension in his shoulders relaxes when he notices you, curled up on the couch in the common area, patiently awaiting his return.

you look up when he closes the door behind him, tossing your phone to the side. “long day?” 

yuuji sighs, all but collapsing onto the couch beside you. his head finds a place in your lap, resting against your thighs. “i had another meeting with the higher-ups.” 

you frown, gently beginning to card your fingers through his hair in the hopes of providing some comfort. yuuji looks up at you, unshed tears stinging in the corners of his eyes. “what if i lose control and he takes over again? what if i hurt you?”

“you won’t. and if you do, you’ll fight like hell until you get it back.” your fingers twist around strands of his hair; your nails gently massage against his scalp. yuuji closes his eyes when you brush your fingers against the small mark near his left eye. your touch is gentle - comforting. his breath hitches when you lean down, pressing a fleeting kiss against the scar. “i trust you, yuuji.”

INUMAKI TOGE’S hands burn as he wraps them around a hot cup of tea, feeling the warmth of the boiling water through the ceramic. his smile is hidden behind the hem of his jacket when you slip into the chair beside him, holding your own cup. 

underneath the golden glow of the kitchen lights, toge can see the fresh bruises littering your knuckles. he’ll have to remember to pick up some ointment the next time he goes out for cough medicine, he notes. 

“is your throat feeling any better?” 

“salmon,” toge nods. he tugs the hem of his jacket down just enough to expose his mouth before taking a sip of his now bearably warm tea. your own drink goes forgotten as you watch him, your gaze trained on the curse marks near his lips. 

“tuna?” toge asks, cocking his head at you in confusion. 

“everything’s fine. it’s just…” you softly smile, hesitantly reaching up to rest your hand against his cheek. toge watches with wide eyes when your fingers brush against the edges of his cursed mark. the skin is rough against your skin - permanently embedded with the mark of the inumaki clan. “you’re very handsome, toge.”

his face burns at the praise and toge has to resist the urge to hide behind the safety of his uniform again. 

but he doesn’t. 

instead, he leans into your hand, encouraging you to continue your ministrations. there are a million words lingering on the tip of toge’s tongue. but in the quiet of the night, nothing else needs to be said.

mornings with you were quickly becoming the favourite part of KAMO CHOSO’S day. waking up to your body curled up beside his; watching you carefully style your hair in front of the bathroom mirror; dancing around the kitchen together as you attempt to make breakfast - he could never get enough.

it was part of your routine. choso would watch you with an attentive gaze and a soft smile. today, however, was different. choso studies his reflection in the mirror, his eyes fixated on the mark stretching across his nose. 

“hey,” you whisper, placing a hand against his back. “is everything okay?”

choso relaxes a little at your touch before turning to face you. “do you think my curse mark looks weird?”

“no. of course not.” you furrow your eyebrows, cocking your head at him in confusion. “do you?” 

he remains silent, stealing another glance at the mark across his cheeks. “it’s just… humans don’t have curse marks. i thought you would prefer how i look without one.”

“choso,” you whisper. he can feel heat rising to his cheeks when you reach over to tilt his face to look at you. the edge of your thumb brushes against the edge of the mark; your fingers gently caress his cheek. he remains still when you slowly lean in, pressing a few stray kisses against his cheeks. “i love you. and your cursed mark. please don’t ever forget that.”

an unfamiliar warmth settles itself into choso’s chest. it’s a feeling he’s still not used to - how his heart beats faster around you. he softly smiles, leaning his cheek against your hand. “i love you too.”

taglist (open! send an ask/dm to be added): @sunoooism @vamxpi @sad-darksoul @kamote-kuneho

if you liked this fic, please consider leaving a like, comment, feedback, or rebloging !! and if you want to support me, check out my jjk masterlist <33

[shinynewboots]

The Alchemy: Adam x AFAB Morningstar!reader Part 1

Prompt/Summary: She’s Charlie’s older sister and when Charlie first has a meeting with Adam and Lute he couldn’t stop staring at her! To him she was like a goddess her beauty, her voice! Almost everything to him was beautiful. But she gets pissed off when he doesn’t take them serious not in his meeting room in hell or in heaven.

But he bribes the older Morningstar that he will stop the extermination and would talk to the higher ups and try to convince them about Charlie’s idea if only she agrees to be his (as in marriage).

She was considering it, ( Lucifer and Alastor were definitely against it), everyone in the hotel were also asking her to reconsider this plan. (But at the end she says yes).

Also if u can… like add a part where he betrays her at the end and does the extermination but before Nifty stabs him she’s there to save him.

For @jennieyeager Your request darling that I accidentally took forever to write! I have loved writing this prompt so far and I hope you enjoy it at as well! I intend on it being a 4 part series so please stay tuned!

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel

Warnings: 18+ eventually, somewhat dubious consent, language

Part 2

“Are you coming, Y/N?” Charlie asked, practically radiating excitement. You looked up at your little sister (who had been the sibling to inherit your mother’s height) and sighed. You were not particularly optimistic about Charlie’s meeting with heaven (hell, you weren’t optimistic about anything, you left that mostly to Charlie), but you didn’t want to rain on her parade.

Besides, Dad had asked you both to represent him at the meeting with Heaven. And there was no way you were going to let Charlie face the wolves alone.

“I’m coming,” You replied. “But I think we need to tone down the singing in your presentation. You remember how well that went over with Katie Killjoy.”

Charlie smiled awkwardly, her permanently flushed cheeks growing even redder at the reminder. She reminded you a lot of Dad at this moment. Full of dreams and hopes for a better future. You wanted to believe in a better future. You did. But all your hopes had been smashed when Mom had gone off the grid without even a single phone call and Dad holed himself up in the castle.

However, you did believe in Charlie. She had always been the best of your family. And if Charlie wanted to use this meeting with Heaven to try and convince them to cease the yearly Exterminations, you would be right there at her side.

You and Charlie stood outside of the Embassy, both hesitant to open the door. Neither of you had ever gone inside before as your parents had you avoid the building like the plague growing up. And now the building seemed daunting and out of place with its glow of angelic light. You and Charlie looked at each other and pushed on the door together.

The foyer of the Embassy was empty and dark. You weren’t sure what you had been expecting but this certainly wasn’t it. Rows of sofas made a path to a desk and set of elevators that stood at the other end of the room.

“Hello!” Charlie called, her voice echoing through the room. No response.

“Creepy,” Charlie said. You nodded in agreement, taking in the embassy. It smelled old and unused. Almost like moth balls. You both walked slowly to the desk where Charlie rang the bell. A flash of blinding light revealed a golden document with the words “sign here”. You both shared a glance before signing the document. The document disappeared as soon as it was signed and a glowing light appeared from one of the elevators.

You both walked towards the elevator and ascended to the top floor. Rock music played in the background as it made its slow journey. You looked over at Charlie. “You’re going to do great. And I’ll be right here by your side through the whole thing.”

Charlie beamed at you, her face bright. She pulled you into a fierce hug “I really appreciate you, Y/N.”

The elevator stopped abruptly and you broke the hug. “Now or never.”

You and Charlie walked out of the elevator and were met with a pair of open double doors, beckoning you to step inside.

“Anyone here?”

Charlie walked through the doors first.

“Hello!” She called out, you following behind her. Light began to emit from the room through the doors and you hurried to catch up with her.

“Sup.” You hear a voice call out. Your eyebrows furrow. Why was Charlie so fast? How dare you inherit your father’s height.

“Holy shit!” Charlie calls out. You finally make it to her to see to angels at the other end of the table. The one sitting wore a black exorcist mask with gold trimmings along with purple and white robes. The angel standing wore an traditional exorcist mask complete with the gray armor.

You stand behind Charlie, nervous but letting her do her thing. She was so much more jovial and charismatic than you were. You knew she would win heaven over.

“Um, hi! I’m Charlie! My dad asked me if could meet you.” Charlie said, a grin on her features. She reached out her hand for the angel to shake.

“Yeah I know.” The angel responded. He looked uninterested in the conversation. In anything. Fucking angels. He looked down at his nails and seemed bored.

“And this is my sister, Y/N!” Charlie said, moving aside so the angels could see you clearly. The lead angel glanced up and suddenly you could see the eyes of his mask fill with interest.

“Hi.” You said sheepishly, throwing the two angels a wave. The exorcist scowled back. The lead angel looked at her with curious eyes (could a mask be curious?).

There was an awkward silence as no one spoke. You and Charlie glanced back and forth until Charlie decided there was no time to waste. She fumbled in her pockets for her schematics of her plan (maybe crayon wasn't the best option but there had been no arguing with Charlie).

“Well um I guess we can go ahead and get this meeting started. So we all know Hell’s biggest problem right?” Charlie asked, holding up the crayon drawing of exorcists raining from the sky on extermination day. She glanced over at you nervously. You tried to give her an encouraging smile.

At this, the lead angel stood and walked towards you and Charlie.

He doesn't look at Charlie and instead his attention is solely on you. He looks you up and down and you suddenly feel very exposed under his gaze.

“Hey, my sister’s trying to speak to you.” You said, meeting the angel’s gaze.

The angel looked back and forth between the two of you before sighing. “Fine, let’s getting on with it.”

“Uh thank you,” Charlie stammered, trying to collect herself. “So again as well all know Hell’s biggest problem is it's overpopulation and subsequent exterminations. I have a plan to redeem sinners through a program at the hotel I recently opened!”

Charlie was actively shoving the crayon drawings into the angel’s face. He rolled his eyes. He barely gave Charlie a glance however, and kept most of his attention on you.

“Listen, let me stop you right there sweetie. You’re wasting everyone’s time.”

You saw red. Who did this motherfucker think he was? Charlie looked visibly defeated but tried to collect her presentation.

“But they're human souls.”

“Human souls that made a choice,” The exorcist angel said, walking up behind the lead angel.

“But-” Charlie started but was cut off by the lead angel.

“And there's no fucking way in heaven or hell that anyone would choose to stop the exterminations. Not only does it control the disgusting sinner population but it's so fucking fun to come down here and kill demon ass.”

You could feel your demon form starting to bubble to the surface. Horns began to sprout from your head and you knew your eyes had taken on a reddish hue. You glanced at Charlie who was in full demon form, her face red and full of anger.

“This isn’t fair. What makes you or anyone else in heaven any better than these souls?” Charlie exclaimed, her voice taking on a deeper, more sinister tone than you were used to hearing.

“Woah, settle down sweetheart. Chill out. They’re just sinners.”

“They're our people,” You replied, glaring at the fucking arrogant lead angel. Fuck, you wanted to punch him in his stupid face.

“And that must fucking suck for you guys,” The angel answered, laughing. He had grown in height, his golden wings unfurling around them. You hated to admit it but they were magnificent to look at. Smug asshole.

“Anyways, the real reason we’re here is because the angelic council has made the executive decision to move up the next extermination.”

“What?” Charlie exclaimed. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, sweetheart, that we will be back in six months.”

“You can’t do that!” You argued. The lead angel looked at you with a grin on his masked features. He pulled out a guitar (where in the fuck did he get a guitar) and strummed a cord.

“I think this meeting is over,” He said, the sound wave of the guitar creating a force strong enough to push you and Charlie out of the meeting room and out the double doors. The doors slammed close and you both landed on the floor with a thump.

“No, no, no!” Charlie cried out, her eyes brimming with tears. You had to do something. Anything! This was Charlie’s dream and you weren't about to let some asshole angel with a god complex stop her. You jumped to your feet and pushed against the doors with all your might.

The doors opened (shockingly easy considering how loud they had slammed closed just seconds earlier) and you rushed into the room.

“Who in the actual fuck do you think you are to just ignore my sister like that? And to move up the extermination? Who in the actual fuck do you think you are?” You yelled as you entered the room. The double doors behind you closed with a bang, leaving Charlie out in the hallway alone. The lead angel gave you a long look and stood from the table. His hands moved to his mask and he pulled it off of his head.

You hated to admit it, but he was very handsome. His hair was light brown and messy in a boyish way. He had dark circles under his eyes, as though it had been a few millennia since had a slept. But what really got you were his eyes. They were a gold color that you had never before seen on another person.

“I’m Adam.” He said, a smirk crossing his features.

“Like, like the first man?” You asked weakly.

“The fucking same,” He grinned and began to walk towards you.

“That explains so much.” You whispered to yourself.

“Pretty awesome, right?”

You scowled. “No it's not ‘pretty awesome’, it's fucking rude of you to not even give my sister a chance and to be just a total fucking dickwad.”

“Because I don’t think your sister's idea is a good one. I mean, redemption for sinners? There’s a reason they ended up in this godforsaken place in the first place. And dickwad? Real original, sweetheart.”

Emboldened and full of anger you marched up to Adam and pointed a finger at his chest. You did not, however, anticipate that he was a hologram and so you fell right through.

“Falling for me already, sweetheart?” Adam’s hologram laughed, turning to the exorcist angel and giving a fist bump. You felt a blush rush to your cheeks.

“You’re impossible!”

Adam shrugged. “I might have an idea that benefits both of us. It would require a little effort on your part though.”

“You mean stopping the exterminations?” You ask warily. “And redeeming sinners?”

“You know that's a very heavy ask sweetheart, but yeah. I can talk to the higher-ups about it and see what I can do. Just in exchange for one thing.”

One thing standing between you and helping Charlie achieve her dream. Someone could have pinched you, this was like a dream come true. Charlie had always been the ray of sunshine and full of hope and optimism and dreams. You would give anything for that to come true!

“What is it?”

“You.”

“Uh, what?” You asked, not sure you heard him clearly.

“You. I want you. Come to Heaven with me and be my wife.”

Your mind automatically went the worst (oh my satan did he want you as a sex slave?). Your mouth had run dry and you felt your palms grow sweaty. Why would Adam, the first man, want you as a wife. Oh my satan, wouldn't that be weird because he technically was married to your mom. This was so wrong on so many levels. And he was such an asshole.

“You want me as some weird sex slave?” You questioned, looking warily at Adam.

“Ew fucking no, that's disgusting. No, nothing sexual unless you ask,” Adam said. “Which, you know, you probably will.”

Adam winked at you. Fucking pig.

“Why me?” You were never picked first for, well, anything. No one had ever gone out of their way to make you their first choice. It had always been Charlie due to her charismatic nature and people pleasing tendencies.

Adam blinked and looked you up and down. “You’re beautiful. Hot as hell, no pun intended. And you're loyal. Doing anything to help your sister accomplish her pathetic dream? That takes guts and I respect it.”

Butterflies fluttered in your stomach. Could you do this? Marry this strange man who played a villain in your bedtime stories as a child. He was a pig but if he made it to heaven, maybe he wasn't all bad.

“Can I take some time to think about it?” You asked weakly.

“You’ve got 24 hours,” Adam said, snapping his finger to make a digital countdown watch appear on your wrist. 23:59, 23:58, 23:57…

“You can meet me back here when you've made a decision.” He said, smirking at you. Suddenly, his form appeared more real and you realized he had somehow materialized in front of and was no longer a hologram. His large hands grabbed your face and forced you to stare into his golden eyes.

You suddenly felt his lips crash into your own. His lips were soft and tasted like a cherry hard candy. One of his hands fiddled with the ends of your hair and you couldn't help but moan as his tongue lightly flicked at your lips, leaving shivers down your spine. Your tongue wrestled with his own and you felt so lightheaded.

You had been kissed before but never like this. Suddenly his many millennia of living seemed to be paying off in his favor.

You heard someone clear their throat behind you and you pulled away, a blush coming to your cheeks as you realized the exorcist angel had been present.

“Yeah, yeah Lute I know. I’m leaving.” Adam pulled his hands from your face and smirked at you.

“24 hours, sweetheart. I hope to see you here.”

And with that, Adam and Lute disappeared in a cloud of light and smoke leaving you alone in the board room. The double doors opened and Charlie rushed in, pulling you into a big hug and was frantically asking what happened. You couldn't make anything out that she was saying, however. All you could focus on was the way your lips tingled and began to swell from the ghost of his touch.

You were totally fucked.

[sanjoongie]

ᵢ wᵢₗₗ cₒₙₛᵤₘₑ yₒᵤ

🌺Second Submission for The Language of Flowers event held by @cultofdionysusnet

🌺Prompt Chosen: Endelweiss {courage, power}

🌺Pairing: Hwang Hyunjin x Reader (f)

🌺Genre: smut

🌺Trope: strangers to lovers

🌺Au: modern gods au, immortal au, dystopian au, priestess au

🌺Rating: 18+, MDNI

🌺Warnings: contains dark themes of sacrifice for the greater good, religious tones, suppression of the public by the government, execution speak, death Kinks>>> orgasm untouched, magic fingering, overstim, consensual ownership, dom! hyunjin, sub! reader, penetrative sex with no barrier, pull out method (glowing god cum!), breast play, biting, dacryphilia, aftercare

🌺Word Count: 3,878

🌺Summary: When a horrid government decides the only way to deal with you is to make you a priestess of a dark god, 'a great honor', when actuality is a death sentence, you put on your bravest face and go head to head with the horror of your fate. But when it turns out not everything is as it seems to be, just perhaps you could be in charge of your fate... if you survive, of course

🌺Author's Note: originally i had this entire story planned out for mingi and a slavic spring celebration and it was gonna be epic, but @anyamaris and Hyunjin hijacked my creative processes but i'm not complaining 😆 thank you once again for inspiring me anya 💞 love me some good god aus

🌺divider by @cafekitsune

"But what do we do with her?"

Bruised, battered and beaten, you kneel prostrate before a bench of dark faces. Men and women in charge of your life, who you've never met.

"She can't go unpunished," another supplies.

"But if we reveal to the public what she has done..."

The silence is palpable. How does one publicly punish a citizen and not make them a martyr for their cause? They were in a predicament.

One dry, old voice speaks up. "There is one option... he has an opening for a priestess."

This silence is sharp now, razor edged and worrisome.

"A Bride... yes... that would suffice..."

You'd have asked questions if you weren't gagged.

"A cover up. We could celebrate. Bring back the old ways. He would be pleased."

Your heart hammers in your chest when one of them says, "She wouldn't survive the night."

You begin to struggle when another agrees with, "He's a monster."

The guards drag you away as you hear, "There's a reason he has no permanent priestess."

All this because you dared to ask questions. Your government was not meant to be questioned, however. You wanted to know the why’s and how’s but you were just supposed to be a good little sheep that went with where the shepherd told you to go. 

Perhaps… that had evolved into poking and prodding. Perhaps you might have gone to a meeting or two of like-minded individuals who also had questions. But they also demanded answers. Perhaps your government didn’t know what to do with you once they caught you. Perhaps you were fucked.

“It’s a great honor to be dedicated to one of the gods,” a soft spoken priestess chirps as she offers you garments that were too luxurious for you to have ever touched before.

“But this one…” another hesitates.

The first one hushes the second. “We clothe you as a bride for you are committing your life to the God you shall be serving. He will provide you with everything you need for your life with him.”

“He?” You prompt.

“He,” the second says firmly. “Your job is not to ask questions but to receive his blessings.”

You reside yourself to being quiet and simply absorbing. There is a hint of fear in the air, you can feel it like goosebumps on your flesh. You try to not let it infect you but fear burrows deep into every part of your mind. 

You put on a brave face and smile when you’re being told again and again how much of an honor it is to be given to a god. To an immortal, having a human be an intermediary between his brilliance and the minds of the lesser, was an honor gifted. But was it an honor received? 

“A veil for our bride to be,” the soft spoken priestess offers and you bend down for the wizened old lady. She fixes it upon your head and spreads the black lace over your face.

“Now it is time to celebrate your honor.” The second priestess waves her hand to the door that will open to your fate.

You walk along a corridor of gathered people. They threw flowers at your feet, like they were truly celebrating your nuptials. They cheered and whistled and shouted well wishes. 

They didn't know they were celebrating your last day on this planet but at least they weren't jeering you at you as you made your way to an execution stage.

The grand path took you straight to the temple of the God of Chaos. You didn't know much about him but the temple had seen better days. Still, you kept your head high as the cheering died off when they realized where exactly you were going.

It was utter silence as the guards of the temple opened the door and you stepped through it. This was it; this was the beginning of your end.

The doors close behind you with a loud boom and then you are left with the dust and the disarray. The temple interior, for it lacked a priestess, had no upkeep. Melted candles and wilted incense cover every surface. Alcoves held art that didn't paint a pretty picture for you. There are burning cities and tornados and plagues. He truly was the god of chaos.

Well, there was no delaying the inevitable.

At the back of the temple, there was a chipped fresco of a door. You had been instructed to simply bow and wait for your ‘husband’ to receive you. So you threw yourself to your knees, with your black lace wedding dress pooled around you and said the words to summon the god in charge of your life now.

“Oh God of Chaos, oh husband of mine to be, please bestow unto me your earthly form, so that I may tend to all within your realm and shower you with prayers and attention,” You pray.

The mural of the door becomes murky and iridescent, like quicksilver alive, and through steps your God. His brilliance almost blinds you and you throw up an arm to brace yourself from the light.

A big sigh can be heard. “I forget how weak you mortals are,” the voice drawls.

The light recedes and you put your arm down. You had expected to see a monster but instead you are awestruck with beauty. The god, the man, has black hair down to his shoulders, held back in a simple half-up do. He needs no clothing of opulence but requires a simple robe, falling off one shoulder like he barely minded to keep clothed. He walks down the steps, pat pat pat, a pace of a lazy being, not held to the restraint of time. 

“Let’s see my bride,” He murmurs, chucking a finger under your chin.

You stare up at him, directly so, and see chaos swimming in his pupils. If he is your death, so be it. You would embrace it as if it was a gift. You refuse to go out whimpering like you regret your choices. You were firm in your stance that you deserved answers.

“Oh, how delectable,” the god smirks.

“Husband,” You reply demurely.

The god casts back his head in laughter, almost melodic in its sound. “Hyunjin. We can do away with that wife and husband stuff. Those are constructs of humans. I am not one of those.”

“Hyunjin, then,” You say, somewhat at half-mast. 

He tilts his head curiously. “You’re different from the other ones they sent me. Why?”

You chew hesitantly on your lip. What did you have to lose? Your life was already forfeit. So why not give this god the blunt truth. “They feared you. I do not.”

“Courage, hmm?” Hyunjin begins to pace around you, a sandaled foot slapping the slab of concrete. “You humans are wondrous and yet disappointing most days.”

You jut out your chin stubbornly. “Yes, courage. Now are you going to kill me or play with your food?”

The pacing stops and Hyunjin stares at you for a moment before a maniacal grin pulls at his features. “Play with my food, huh?”

You feel like your heart is akin to a trapped bird, beating its wings against your chest. Are you even breathing? What does an immortal get from killing a human? A temporary amusement and then flock back to their realm? 

“If you're my priestess now, will you pray at my temple?” Hyunjin runs the back of his finger down the lace of your arm.

“I--” You didn't know what to say but you could feel the underlying words. Is this how you survived?

“Please, Hyunjin, I would be your priestess. I would dedicate my life to serving you. I would--”

“What about your body?” Hyunjin wonders, biting down on his thumbnail. “Would you release it to my control? Give yourself utterly to me?”

“My body is no longer my own.” You collapse to the floor, arms above your head, palms up, knees still tucked under you. “Do with it what you will.”

“And what if my will was to have you bent over my altar?”

You gasp, sitting up. You cannot help yourself, because you did not expect to be spoken like this by a god. Then again, he was the god of chaos.

“If it would please you, Hyunjin, I would.”

“Would you?” Hyunjin cocks his head, looking to read the words on your face. “Would you let me part your moistened lips with my cock and we've barely introduced ourselves?”

“I know you said to do away with the constructs of humans, but if I am your wife and you are my husband, would we not consummate our marriage?”

Hyunjin holds your gaze, deep and dark, penetrating and digging. “I would. But I ask you again, Priestess, would you?”

You rose slightly on your knees until your lips were so close a flower petal would barely have room. “I would become your priestess in every way, Hyunjin.”

For if you had to fuck a god, one beautiful and tempting, and yes mad, would you not, in order to live? 

“Then I will take all that you have to offer. Your initiation to become my priestess begins now.”

With a flick of Hyunjin’s wrist, you find your body pushed up against the altar that he had been speaking of before. It is a rusty color, which you quickly dismiss from your mind as old blood. You brace yourself as you feel hands touching your legs, firmly pushing them apart but you feel no warmth of Hyunjin’s body behind you. Those same ‘hands’ rip the back of your dress and you feel the cool, dry air of the temple, giving you goosebumps.

“Human… why do you not have any underwear on?” Hyunjin drawls, still sounding far away.

You swallow, your mouth suddenly dry. “They did not supply me with any… the other priestesses…”

Hyunjin cackles wildly. Suddenly, with a snap of a finger, Hyunjin appears before you, a slight cocky smile tugging at his lips. “I love a good surprise.”

That being said, you watch with eyes big with wonder when Hyunjin makes a crude motion with his fingers. You feel as if he is fucking you with his fingers but he is directly in front of you. Whatever chaotic power the god wields, it’s fucking you good. You gasp and press your cheek to the cool stone of the altar, holding on as the ‘fingers’ push in and out of you. Hyunjin crooks his fingers in a come hither motion and you moan wantonly as he presses against your g-spot like he knew where it was all along. 

“Pray to me, Priestess,” Hyunjin croons softly.

You stutter and moan through broken sentences and Hyunjin glows with the soft power only a god must be able to hold. You’re sure he could make you explode into a tiny million red chunks but instead he uses his godhood in a pleasurable way on you, and you add a silent prayer that it remains that way.

You came on that altar untouched and a moment of shame runs through you. Are you truly that easy? But it was your life at stake, shouldn’t that also matter? You gasp on the altar, and the same hand that ‘made you come’ smoothes over your hair. “You did wonderfully for me, my lamb”

You raise your head curiously. “Did I pass?”

Hyunjin throws his head back and laughs a belly laugh, both high and low pitched at the same time. “My lamb, that was only the beginning.”

Hyunjin’s robe slips off his shoulder and pools on the floor below him, kicking off his sandals as well. He walks, slowly but firm-footed, around the altar to move behind you. His hands are soft but callus-worn against your hips as he guides you to turn around and face him. His eyes sweep over your face but when he finds no hesitation, only excitement, he grabs a handful of your dress at your chest and rips it open. 

He wraps one of your legs around his hips, almost lovingly, fingers skimming over your skin. “This is the next test, my lamb.”

You swallow trepidation down your throat, refusing to let your courage falter. “I can do it.”

Hyunjin crawls forward on his altar, hips slotted against yours. His cock is heavy against your mound, both slender and long. “They say I’m a monster, are you sure?”

You don’t speak anymore, but buck your hips upwards so your wet heat smears against his length. “You excite me, God of Chaos. I’m sure.”

Without further adieu, Hyunjin’s cockhead parts your moist lips, just like he had described previously. He pushes and pushes and pushes until he’s nestled deep inside of your heat. He moves with sure strokes that only delight you and send a thrum of pleasure through your system. He fondles a breast, thumb strumming your nipple to a pert peak. His hips do most of the work but soon he finds that your body writhes for him.

Hyunjin is quick to press you into the stone. A hand holds your hip down so that he can drive deeper into your depths. Another hand holds your hand above your head, fingers interlaced with strong support. He holds you down, not to keep you in place, but so that your pleasure doesn’t escape you. 

His dark eyes dart all over your face, picking up each minute frown and tiny gasp. His body speaks to yours, able to read how each stroke of his cock pushes you slowly forward to a pleasurable outcome. This is only his first time sheathed inside of you but he moves as if this was the thousandth time he’s fucked you. It’s poetry and you revel in the rhythm and rhymes.

“Hy-hyunjin,” You stammer. “I--”

“Go ahead,” Hyunjin encourages you, “Scream my name. It will only be one of many.”

Your limbs tighten as a force of lightning runs among your veins. You scream his name just like he commands, cunt convulsing around his perfect length. He doesn’t stop driving into you. At first it feels as if he is escorting you through your orgasm but then it feels too much and you cry out at the overstimulation.

“This doesn’t stop until I’m done with you,” Hyunjin whispers against the shell of your ear. “And I’ll never be done with you.”

Your insides feel as if you’ve been plowed a dozen times over, raw and sensitive, eventually giving over to another building of pleasure. You fight through your fog-filled mind to gasp, “Will… will you come as well?”

Hyunjin quirks an eyebrow at you. “A god comes only when he wants to. A seed given to a mortal can change the world's destiny.”

Hyunjin uses both hands to hold you down, a beautiful sheen of sweat covering his body and face. You briefly wonder if perhaps you will add a mural to the temple, one of this beautiful, chaotic god above you, beaming over you as if you are doing a fine job under him. Would that ruin his mythos or would it only add to it?

You find another orgasm with Hyunjin’s face buried into the crook of your neck. Hyunjin bites down on the junction, as if to ground himself. You’re raised on your hands and knees and taken like a beast from behind, if only to find another pleasure in the angle difference. You find your orgasm again and again. You feel like a quivering nerve, all exposed and lit with rapture.

But you don’t protest, simply whining through the pain to pleasure. You drink in everything Hyunjin gives you and it only makes his grin grow and grow. 

Hyunjin seems to feed off of you, in ways you didn’t quite understand. The god enjoyed fucking. He wasn’t lost in the pleasure, but it was more like he never finished seeking out yours. For each orgasm you discovered, each longer and more drawn out to pull from your shaking body, he was determined to pull another one from you.

“You know I could go from sunset to sunrise and still never have enough of this,” Hyunjin admits. 

You’re sweating and gasping for breath but still you find yourself yearning for more. Hyunjin simply looks to gift you with more pleasure than you possibly could hold but this feeling of being pampered, of being pleasured, it is intoxicating. You’re drunk off Hyunjin’s adoration of your body. 

Your limbs are entangled in a lover’s pile. Still, you broach the subject again. Courage seems to prop you up time after time. “Come inside of me, Hyunjin,” You plead with a hoarse voice. 

Hyunjin smiles angelically, clearly happy you insist on his pleasure. “Are you that greedy to carry a demi-god?”

You shake your head, surprised you even have the energy to do that. “I wish to see your pleasure written along your face.”

Hyunjin blinks in surprise and then laughs. “I am a god, I take pleasure in whatever I choose. You needn’t worry about me.”

Still, you press your case. “I wish to see your face when you come inside of me, Hyunjin. I want to see what it looks like when you’ve found pleasure inside of me. Is that not what a priestess is? Do I not serve you in the highest regard?”

Hyunjin runs a finger along the side of your face. “I have never had a priestess like you.”

“Then I passed the initiation? I am yours?” You raise yourself up with one arm.

“My lamb, you've been mine the moment you walked through that door,” Hyunjin whispers.

Hyunjin gathers you in his arms and presses your back against the mural where the world burns in the tiles. He penetrates you with ease, jaw dropping to mimic your own delighted gasp. With each thrust, his head nodding, following your own body rocking to his movements. He is enraptured by the way your pleasure made form in your features. 

“Hyunjin.” You feel tears pass over your cheekbones. 

“Don't be frustrated, you've done so well for me,” Hyunjin praises you, wiping away the rivulets of salt water. “I'll come, just like you wanted. I’d love to fill you up but I’d rather have you as a priestess than a god bearer for now.”

Hyunjin flexes his pelvis, his body making a wonderful line between your legs. You cling to his hips, legs locked behind his back, intent on showing the god you’re worthy of his climax. You squeeze down on him tightly, the crude squelching of your wetness and the way he is drilling into you echoing in the temple. His eyebrows furrow in concentration, teeth clamping down on his lower lip. You’re aware he won’t fill you up by his previous words but you’re simply looking forward to his orgasm. 

With a great shout, Hyunjin pulls out, rutting against your mound and he comes, his cum hitting both your stomach and his. It glows golden, just like his godhood and then dies, like a firefly fading out. You love the way his pink mouth parts open, face full of pleasure as he releases, even though it can't be in side of you. Still, the pleasure is yours. Hyunjin grins, breathing heavily, appearing sweaty but satisfied. “Was the show worth what you paid for?”

You sigh dreamily. “I only crave for more now.”

You groan loudly when your legs untangle from his body and Hyunjin pins you against the wall with both hands heavily on your shoulders. “You need a good soak, my lamb. I still forget how fragile humans truly are.”

“That would be very much appreciated,” You say hopefully.

With a wave of Hyunjin’s hand, your gown simply disappears from your body, like it had never been there in the first place. You feel relieved to be free of the costume the other priestess’ had put on you but didn’t realize the repercussions of revealing your full body to him.

With your ripped gown having been vanished, you send a tired smile Hyunjin’s way but find that his face is stormy with rage. “Hyunjin? What have I done?”

Hyunjin shakes his head, one iris becoming light while the other remains dark. “They hurt you?”

You purse your lips. “They seeked to punish me for my questions, Hyunjin. I wasn’t a good little citizen like they prefer.”

Hyunjin paces, his perfect thighs taut with the movement. “They beat you and then decided that a bruised fruit was good enough to be my priestess? They insult you and me in the same breath.”

“Hyunjin, I believe you promised me a long soak.” You hold your hand out, wiggling your fingers. You couldn't very well rewrite the past and you aren’t looking to relive it either.

You feel a surge of power as Hyunjin takes your hand and takes you both to the large Greek styled bath of old. He sits on the bench, you between his legs. His arms frame the lip of the pool, tendrils of hair framing his face.

Your arms wobble as your hand dips under the water to wet your arms and upper body. “I’m not sure I’ll be able to do much other than float,” you state.

You turn your head to see Hyunjin looks quite smug but also content. He is glowing and you’re not sure if it’s his godhood or simply happy with what he has accomplished. “You performed your duties perfectly, Priestess.”

You duck your head, images of the many ways Hyunjin has taken you again and again. You had really done that with a stranger… no, a God. “I am happy to pass the initiation.”

The comfortable silence between you two stretches over like a soft and familiar blanket. You’re content to let the hot water soothe your aches and pains, well earned from the way Hyunjin had fucked you right. You’re not exactly sure what Hyunjin gets out of this, he was a god, could he have aches and pains? Regardless, the way he leans into your body, hugging you to his. It seems like he is still enjoying the presence of your body.

For what seems like centuries but perhaps only lasts a few moments, Hyunjin stretches and removes himself from the bath. You move to leave with him but he insists you remain. “I think it’s time to make the world quake for me again. I’ve been absent from this realm for too long.” He sends you a long look. “Tell me exactly what they did to you.”

You do not dare leave any detail out, so you spill your truth in a frenzy of stumbling words. Hyunjin, instead of getting angry, re-acquires that grin you had first seen on his face, full of madness. He leans downwards and tips your chin up for the softest of farewell kisses.

“You did so well for me,” He purrs, “Allow me to do this for you.”

Without truly understanding the full meaning, you nod your head in acknowledgement. Hyunjin throws back his head with a cackle bubbling from his throat. He shoves on his sandals and tosses on the robe he had removed a long time ago.

You watch as Hyunjin leaves just as he arrives, covered in a simple robe to frame his perfect body. You swear you can hear faint screaming, crashes and bangs, and a faint licking of orange in the distance. He was burning the world down for you, for everything it had put you through. And frankly, you couldn't find the will to pity them.

[nymphybae]

Rainstorms with Alastor

It's unusual for hell to rain, yet this time the droplets grow heavier and thunders struck loud enough to make you unease. You shivered, covering your ears as you tried to focus on the television in front of you. Everybody else was asleep except for yourself, how can you when the storm reminded you of how you met your life's end.

The tv lost its signal and soon powered down, leaving you in an unsettling silence in the lounge room. You pursed your lips, feeling restless as you watch the rain pour from the window.

Footsteps were heard, coming closer into the room. You didn't need to second guess who it was, facing the red haired demon who looked down at you with a sly grin.

"Can't sleep my dear?"

"Yeah.. I just-" A loud thunder storm cut your sentence, immediately putting you in an anxious stance. Your hands were shaking, hugging yourself as an attempt to calm the pulsing in your heart.

Alastor puts his hand on your shoulder, giving you a faint squeeze. "Come with me."

You were a little curious, wondering why he's leading you to your own room.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" He asked, pulling the chair of the tea table you had next to the window. 

"I'd love it." You smiled as he motioned for you to sit. 

With a snap of his fingers, he conjured the equipments needed for the drink.

"This is my favourite batch of tea, it's aroma is just purely sweet as if it came straight from heaven, ha!" he brewed the pot with his dark magic. 

"Here." 

You took the cup, thanking him as you took a sip of the warm tea. Who would've thought the caffeine would help you so much. "It's really good! No wonder you order this batch every other month."

Alastor sat across you, holding a cup himself. He had a pleased smile on his face. "Glad to hear. Now, tell me what's troubling you so late at night?"

Should you really tell him? You figured it was too silly, especially for the radio demon himself. Out of all things that could displease you in hell are the vigorous sounds from outside.

"I hate thunderstorms." You admitted. He didn't say anything, as if waiting for you to continue so you did. You took a deep breath. "It reminds me of the little remnant memories I have left of my death. I lived below mountains, you see. My brothers locked me out of the house because I turned in on our family’s illegal trading to the police- which I obviously didn’t. Then a really terrible thunderstorm came, wiped out most of our crops and farmland. The heavy wind threw me down a lake and I drowned till water filled my lungs.” You took another sip of the tea. “I guess it wasn’t the death, it was the fact that my own blood betrayed me only because of their own assumptions, and I end up losing everything in the end. But they got to live, probably thinking that I left and never came back.” Your hand formed a fist at the thought. It was a short silence for a bit until Alastor spoke.

"Hah, Men.” He poured more tea into his cup. You chuckled at his remark. Who taught him that sort of phrase?

“When exactly did you die again?”

You hummed in thought. “Decades ago.. I can’t recall.” 

Alastor’s permanent smile remains plastered on his face. “Men are soulless and willingly disobedient during my time! There were always reports of disloyalty in newspaper. I would know, I broadcasted them in my radio show!” 

You clicked your tongue playfully. “So much for someone who was a serial killer.”

His grin grew. "Haha, But I was not a vicious idiot darling!" 

“Oh? Did you happen to have any experiences with men in your li-“

A lightning struck at the hotel's electric circuit.  electricity buzzed and every power in the hotel was cut off. The only bit of light in your room came from the windows. 

"Shit, see this is why i fucking hate the rain." You panicked, shuffling around in the dark until a pair of hands grasped you from moving and hitting the furnitures. You look up and saw his glowing red eyes. 

When you finally stood still, he pulled his hands off from you. "Don't worry yourself. I'll take care of this." 

"Wait- You can't leave me here." 

Alastor hums a familiar tune, holding up his cane as he gave you his arm to take.

You hesitated at first, taking his arm before you both teleported to his radio station. 

"Why are we here?" You asked, looking around his personal building.

"Who did you think manages the electricity here? I can't let outsiders control our power supply, especially that excuse for a television head!" He opens a large electrical box, taking a glance at all of the smoked up wires. You waited there awkwardly, covering your ears in preparation for the next thunder strike. 

"You’re just too good to be true, can’t take my eyes off of you~" he sung to himself, working on the wires. 

"Frankie Valli's a classic." You spoke out. He's been humming the song for the whole week now.

“Couldn’t agree more darling! Apologies if it’s bugging you. I suppose the song is stuck in my head for some time.” he turned on the said music on his radio.

“How ironic! I remember my last theatre show was me dancing to this song.” You tapped your feet to the beat.

Alastor walks over to you, taking both of your hands that were covering your ears. “Let’s see if those dance moves are still in tact.” 

The music swept through the room as they danced together, moving enthusiastically while you try to hold in your laughter.

I love you baby! And if it's quite alright, I need you baby. to warm a lonely night.

I love you baby, trust in me when I say

You felt warmth spread throughout your entire being as Alastor spun you around. All the anxiousness from the on going storm washed away as you lead the dance, guiding him through a series of steps.

And there, in the midst of the music and the rhythmic beat, he saw something in you that he had never seen before. A determination, a drive, and a passion that left him chuffed.

The music faded away, and so did the rainstorm. You were quite pleased at this, looking at Alastor with a bright smile. "That was fun. Didn't even realized the power went back on halfway through the dance."

He tilt his head, planting a gentle kiss onto your knuckles. "It's been a pleasure. I suppose now you'll feel much better to lay off in bed?"

You nodded. Why of course, as from now on the heavy thunderstorms will only remind you of this unforgettable night with your beloved co worker.

[mistystepmoonbeam]

Reborn into BG3: Chapter 12

You're reborn into BG3 with only the memory of your past life. Now you're Tav's companion on his journey, and must learn about yourself as much as your new reality.

Chapter 12: You take a walk through the cellar in the blighted village. When the others catch up you say something that freaks out Astarion.

Word count: 2.6K

A/N: I was undecided if I wanted to post this >.> But what the hells.

You’re on your own, now.  Just for a bit, thanks to Wyll convincing Tav you don’t need to be watched at all times.  And with no more goblins between you and camp you’re able to be left alone to sort out…yourself, you guess. 

You didn’t throw up again after leaving Ethel’s, but you may have done some crying as you walked in circles around the forest by the village.  If it wasn’t for having to face the others you’d have run back to camp, pulled scratch into your tent and bawled your eyes out.

Though you promised to go back to camp you find yourself in the blighted village.  You can't read the sign at the entrance but you know it says Moonhaven, and you try to memorise what you think the letters might be.  

A little stop can’t hurt, you think.  Anything to avoid a conversation about what happened.  And you can collect the herbs that are in the cellar, along with anything else that might be useful.  You take a small swig of the health potion to get the taste of bile out of your mouth and then stash it into your bag, since it’s now nearly empty after leaving your personal hoard at camp, and head down into the cellar.  Whatever objects had been clinking in there remain a mystery–you still haven’t looked inside and won’t even as you add more to the pack.

As much as you had wanted to abandon your staff you took it with you.  Necromancy or not, it could bludgeon someone should the need arise.   And apparently it can cast light in a small radius around you because it does just that when you make it to the bottom of the ladder.  

With a slight purple tint, the staff lets out an eerie glow giving you just enough light to see by.  There’s a small buzz of energy through your body that you assume is the Weave.  Not wanting to question things anymore, you get to work prying open the barrels and crates and find the herbs you’re there for.  You circle around and pick up a couple health potions, a couple mystery potions to be identified later, and find the hidden lever.  You hesitate before pushing it down, but curiosity gets the better of you in the end.  You watch the shelves move and step into the secret cave.

Now that you’re aware of the phantom limb and what it has been reaching for, you can feel the dead weigh on your mind.  You know where they are, kind of in the same way you could navigate your room in the dark.  They’re permanent objects stuck in place, and should you so desire, you can reach out and move them. 

“I guess I’m a necromancer,” you mutter as you pluck a bone cap out of the ground.  “Awesome.  Couldn’t be a wizard or a sorcerer or…wait, am I one of those?”

Wyll seemed to make it sound like a necromancer was separate, but it kind of was a subcategory of wizard.

You straighten and keep moving, turning the corner and finding the cavern.  You ignore everything there and head for the mirror that waits beyond the wooden planks.  

When you step up to it the staff's eyes glow violet again, and the mirror slides open.  You sigh.  “Necromancer it is, then.”

But…maybe there’s a clue to your identity in this place if you’re powerful or rich enough?  You move inside and find the lab on the right, the paperwork scattered about, and logbooks.  Or you assume they’re the logbooks—you can’t read, after all.  Instead of flipping through them you head to the exit and find the rusty key on the shelves.  Soon enough you’re standing before the first trap that lights the braziers, and risk the step.  The room is filled with light as the fires blaze to life.  

The Necromancy of Thay is just beyond the barred door, and this time you can hear it.  It whispers to you, quiet little voices that speak in a language you don’t know.  They’re distant, but like with the bodies of the dead you know where the book is.  

It takes some strength to push the rusty key into the padlock on the door, and with some force you manage to turn it.  The whispers quiet.

“A well hidden laboratory, wonder what it’s doing down here?”

You turn to find Tav, Wyll and Astarion walking into the lab.  He still has both eyes, at least.  After he outed Astarion you thought he might take the hag’s deal. 

“How did you find this place?” you ask.  

He only offers you a shrug, eyes darting around the lab in search of loot.

You relent,  “I found the hatch and started looking around.”

Tav smiles and rests his hands on the back of his head.  Maybe he’s just happy you aren’t ignoring him again, or running away.  By the way his tail flicks at the air you think that might be it, and the reason he’s being quieter than usual.

“I followed your tracks,” Wyll reveals.  Well, he did hunt down all sorts of beings as the Blade of Frontiers.  “What have you found?”

“Creepy book,” you reply.  They approach you, surveying the book and everything else in the small cage.  

“Trapped, most likely,” Astarion says.  He steps forward carefully and does something to the stand the book is on.  It’s so quick you don’t have time to peer around him and get a good look at what “disarm trap” really looks like.

Astarion picks up the book, turning it in his hands.  They begin to discuss what it could be when you remember the bracers that are down here.  You slip away without a thought and find the nearby gilded chest, poking it before opening it.  There are traps here, who knows what else could be rigged to explode?

When you open the chest you feel a wave of magic—Weave—come from it.  It’s different from the warmth of the healing magic, somehow sharper, more demanding.  You pull the bracers out and put them in your bag, nearly overflowing with loot now.  

You turn to rejoin the group only to nearly run into Astarion on the level below you.  You stumble back and catch yourself.  “I think Shadowheart was right about putting a bell on you.”

He gives you a smirk, genuine, your surprise.  A thought occurs but rather than ask it you bite the inside of your right cheek.  

“You are just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Astarion asks.  You don’t know what he’s referring to, considering the amount of surprises you’ve had lately.  He goes on, waving one hand in the air.  “Filthy rich, can’t read, enchanted clothing, and now, a necromancer.”

“To be fair, I don’t know anything about all of that.”  You try not to sigh too hard thinking of what Auntie Ethel had said.

“I wonder what other secrets that little head holds…” he muses.  It’s more to himself than you.  “And you killed on my behalf, I’m flattered.”

“I didn’t mean to, though.”

“I know, that’s what makes it all the more entertaining.  You, the picture of innocence, murdered a man for a vampire spawn.  Ha!”

You furrow your brow, unsure how you could be considered the picture of innocence.   But maybe that was only compared to those Astarion knew.  It was your first murder…and only murder!  Not first.  Just the one, and only, murder.

Yes, you are rather innocent in the terms of this world.

Astarion pinches your cheek between two fingers, bringing you back to the conversation.  “Don’t think this makes us even.”

“Okay,” you say when he lets go.  You rub at where he’d pinched, shocked he touched you so casually.  And not just that…his fingers are warm.  “Uhm…”

Astarion quirks a brow.  “Yes?”

“Can I ask you a question?  About being a vampire.”

He leans his weight into one foot, crossing his arms as he eyes you warily.  “I suppose.”

“Why are you warm?  Shouldn’t you be, like, cold?  Or room temperature?”

Astarion, for all his acting, is easy to read.  His eyes widen as he steps back, arms uncrossing and held out before him like he’s trying to catch his balance.  “What did you say?”

“Sorry, is that rude?”  You shift on your heels.  “I just thought vampires would be cold, with the…being dead, and all.”

“We are,” Astarion confirms, voice grim. 

“But your skin is warm.”

“I assure you, it is not.”

“I literally just had your hand on my cheek.  You’re warm.”

“I think I know what temperature my own body is!”  Astarion huffs and walks away.  You notice the bag that rests on his back has the weight of the book within.  

You move down the steps as he paces, annoyed.  

“What’s wrong, Astarion?” Tav asks.

You answer, “I asked him why—”

But you don’t get to finish it because Astarion wraps one hand over your mouth and the other on the back of your head, successfully silencing you.  He says, “Nothing!  Nothing at all.  Just discussing what reward I might offer for valiantly saving me from a monster hunter.”

You roll your eyes.  But having his skin on yours again confirms his heat.  He feels like a living, breathing human.  Why did that freak him out?  When he releases you he gives you a hard stare that’s easy to understand.  Shut.  Up.

Wyll and Tav watch you, waiting to see what you say but you just shrug.  “It’s not that important.”

Wyll frowns, but lets it go.  For now.  Tav bites into his bottom lip but keeps silent.

Astarion’s words remind you of something you’d like to forget.  The Gur.  You can’t even recall his name right now.  Maybe you should have tried harder to keep Astarion away, or convinced them to not go there at all.  But you didn’t, and there was no reset now.

You watch Tav flit about the basement collecting loot.  It does little to help your mood, but at the very least you take comfort in the fact that they didn’t call you a monster for what you did.   You promise to keep better watch of those chords in your head, the little phantom strings that connect to the dead around you.  Because avoiding the dead is an impossible task, at least as long as you travel with Tav and everyone.

When you return to the surface the others are waiting by the well.  You spot your bag of gold on Gale’s shoulder and hurry to take it from him, but he holds up his hands to stop you.  “What kind of man would I be if I let an injured person carry so much weight?”

You’re about to argue but think better of it when the world sways a little.  You manage to stay still, probably, and thank him instead.  

“Oh, right,” you say, pulling the magic bracers from your other pack.  “I thought you might want these.”

Gale takes the bracers.  It’s then that you notice the bags under his eyes are especially dark—and you realize he hasn’t told anyone about his condition.  As far as you know.   The little lines that travel up the side of his neck and towards his left eye are darker, too.

Your thumbnail scratches at your staff as you wait for him to say something.  Anything.  Literally anything would be good right now because it’s been ten whole seconds of him staring at the bracers and that’s long enough of him being silent that the others are now looking.

“Gale?” Tav asks.

It jolts him out of his stupor.  “Yes?  Oh, yes.”  He looks at you.  “Thank you.  Perhaps there’s something I must admit…”

Gale goes through his first speech about the orb, and then his second.  It’s a lot to take in in one go, if you haven’t heard it all before.  At the end he says, “I understand if you want to part ways—this orb, for lack of a better word, is immensely dangerous.”

Tav asks, “Why?”

All eyes turn to him, his head tilted with a smile on his face.  

“Because I could explode,” Gale says slowly.  

“So?”  Tav points to each companion as he adds, “Shar worshipper, warlock turned devil, angry githyanki, infernal engine that could explode, vampire, necromancer with memory loss, and I’m sorry Halsin we’ve barely just met, but…uh, old?”

There are worse things to be said, about all of you.  

“Plus we’ve all got worms in our heads,” Karlach says.  “Oh, well except for…”

Gale lets out a small laugh.  “Thank you.  All of you.  Now, even I’m getting tired of my own voice so shall we get going?”

The group begins their journey back to the goblin camp. 

“I am not angry,” Lae’zel says, her voice almost a hiss.  “At least not at any of you.  The mindflayers, however…”

Halsin walks next to her, asking questions about the tadpoles and their magic, while Astarion and Wyll follow, then Shadowheart, Karlach, and Tav.  You and Gale are last to leave the village.

“You knew, didn’t you?” Gale asks. 

You hesitate too long before answering.  “No.”

“You are a terrible liar.”  He keeps his voice low as you walk, putting the bracers on his wrists.  “But I consider that a good thing.”

You chew the inside of your cheek, unsure of what to say.  They seem to consider your knowledge to be some kind of deadly premonition, so maybe you should lean into that.  “I can’t really explain it.”

Gale smiles but it’s weak.  

“We’ll find lots of stuff for you to eat,” you assure him.  “Or absorb, I mean.  Like those!”

You point at the bracers.  He holds them closer to where you know the orb is tattooed on his chest, breathing deeply. 

“And if we can’t find anything there’s always my boots, or coat.”

“You would offer me those?”  Gale looks you up and down like he had when you’d first met.

You shrug.  “Of course.  Oh, do you need them now?  Because I just need to sit down to get them—”

You lift a foot as you walk, nearly stumbling to the ground when Gale stops you.  “No, no, I’m fine for now.   I am just—very grateful to have such a generous companion.”

“It’s not really generosity if it’s something you need though,” you argue.  

Gale smiles gently but moves on.  “So what’s this I hear about you being a necromancer?”

Whatever emotion crosses your face makes him pull back and try to change the subject.  Regret, maybe, or pain.  You can’t focus on controlling your features with so much going on.   “I don’t want to be…that.  I can feel…I can feel where they are—like something is dragging behind me.  It’s heavy, but easy.  I don’t want it to be easy.”

“Just because something comes easily to you doesn’t mean you need to do it.”

You look up at him, unaware your gaze has been on the ground this whole time.  “But I did it by accident.  I can’t—I can’t exactly control it.”

“That’s no problem to learn,” Gale says, as if moving the dead was no harder than riding a bike.  “Learn to control it, and don’t use it.  Though if you can move a boar in your sleep you must have some considerably…powerful benefactors in Baldur’s Gate to deal with.”

“What do you mean?”

“I don’t mean to frighten you,” he says, “but if you can use magic without the intent, without the movements or incantations, then you hold a great power.  And that is something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the wealthy elite.”

Chosen.  Like Gale had once been of Mystra you too could be the preferred mortal of a god.

“Meaning there may be some unhappy people if I don’t use magic.”

“It’s only one possibility of many,” Gale assures you.  “And until we know more I am happy to help you control your magic.  I’m told I’m an excellent teacher.”

You twirl the staff between your fingers and laugh.  “It would be an honour to learn from you.”

Taglist:

@half-poison-and-half-hope @sanscas @hotmesshobbit @godoffuckedupcats @thequeen-oni @terrenuserinj @straewberrysoda @theomnipotentfox @becksynthetic @quitecontrary-to-mary @furblrwurblr @mega-trash-cringe @fandomsbookclub @dontneedbiologytoadopt @pebble-bb @v3lv3tvampir3 @mrow-kat @jeneralmischief @notsaelty @runaway-17 @aoirohi @tinswhimsy @xxgrimripp3rxx @kemonocat-blog @thetiredtoad0-0 @sleepydang @iwannabealocalcryptid @troutberryspoon @betwixttheweave @the-pale-elfs-love

[sugarlywhispers]

Thinking about best friend, biker!Bakugou, who always goes for you to pick you up in his big ass bike; no matter where, no matter when, he's outside waiting for you sitting in his bike with his arms crossed over his chest, a permanent scowl on his face for whoever looks disapprovingly at him because of his bad boy appearance. Piercing in the right side of his bottom lip, piercings in his ears, black leather jacket, black ripped jeans. You need him to pick you up from work? He's there. You had to stay late doing extra hours? No matter what time it is, he's there waiting for you to take you home. You need to go buy ladies stuff to the farmacy? He's there ready to take you, and then bring you back. You woke up at 3 am and want a snack? He'll call you an annoying pain in his ass when you phone him, but he tells you he'll be there in ten minutes.

One day, he picks you up at work because you have talked about going to see the fireworks show that was going to take place due to some celebration. He takes you to a place closer to where the whole show will be, people already around waiting. You sit on the grass next to each other as you keep talking about the events of your day. He mmhs and ahhs and pffs and tsks to everything you say, smiling and frowning when it needs to.

The show is about to start, and he sees your discomfort. He knows that even though you love the colorful lights, you hate the sounds of explosion; he knows it's a small trigger for your anxiety, so he takes out he's special airpods that he uses when he's riding his bike for longer periods of time and the loud engine actually annoys the hell out of his ears and they cancel every sound from the outworld but the music in them. He doesn't say anything as he gives them to you and you smile thankful at him while putting them on.

The show finally starts, you don't hear anything but the chill song 'Apocalypse' by Cigarettes After Sex as the spectacular shining in the sky illuminates above you.

Bakugou, even half way through the show, can't take his eyes out of you. Your face enjoying it it's even brighter than the lights. Your smile it's the biggest he has ever seen, and he has known you since you dropped a weight next to him by accident at the gym three years ago–you became instant friends since then. He has seen you at your best and at your worst, and vice-versa. But he has never seen such… beauty in your whole demeanor before as he does in that moment. Content. Fascinated. Relaxed. Happy. And your eyes… he can practically see the show reflecting on them, and he thinks it looks much better that way.

That's when he realizes. How relaxed he also is next to you, how he enjoys much more your reactions than the show itself, how the pit of his stomach flutters when you suddenly wooow to a big bright explosion that almost whiteness the whole sky. He realizes how much he wants to hold your hand, to kiss your cheek for how cute you look at that moment. To actually kiss your lips to discover if your taste is as cute and sweet as you look right now. To hold you in his arms to protect you from the world, because it doesn't deserve a person like you walking on it. You're precious.

The show ends, and the shine still glows in your eyes when you look at him, smiling big as you give him back his airpods, talking how amazing the show was and how cool and pretty all the lights were. You're pretty.

And as he can't take his eyes out of you while you speak, he realizes then.

"I'm falling in love with you." He blurts, and he has never said anything as sure as that.

You immediately shut up, completely taken aback. "W-what?"

His vermillion eyes don't leave yours, and he repeats, "I'm falling in love with you. Hard."

You don't know what to say. He can see the surprise and confusion in your face, but if there is something Katsuki isn't, it is a man that backs aways from his own actions or words. But he understands that probably this is too much now, yet he needs you to know.

"I'm not saying this for you to do something about it. I just want you to know it. Because from now on, I'll be whatever you need me to be. A friend, a lover, your driver, your fucking servant if you need me to. But I won't back away from trying to make you like me back. It's on. I'll convince you to let me be yours and you be mine."

Your eyes fill with tears, emotional tears that don't mean something bad but either something good and you don't know what to say, what to answer. But you do realize something…

He's always there. And he will always be. The butterflies in your stomach wake up and start fluttering around.

[thatsdemko]

this love - l.norris

masterlist

t-swift inspired works

requested: n

pairings: lando norris x fem!reader

warnings: mentions of anxious thoughts/worries + fear of commitment + mentions of kissing(if this is even a warning idk)

a/n: inspired by the song this love by Taylor swift. feedback is always appreciated xx my requests are temporarily back open!

This love left a permanent mark

This love is glowing in the dark

the fear of falling in love is more common than you think. you so want the man in front of you, with his crystal blue-green eyes, thick lashes, and beautiful smile what was there that couldn’t make you fall in love? he’s the same man who has shown you time and time again, he’s not going anywhere. the man who gives you unconditional love and never washes away.

he’s like a home, a place for shelter and safety. he promises to always hold you in the dark, and love you during the thunderstorms. this love feels good, but why are you scared?

all you’ve ever known are the ones who get close and then run away. the ones who go with the tide and drift further out to sea. he’s as permanent as sand, always there and never washes away.

you’ve tried to leave him, tried to push him away, but he’s persistent. he hates that you feel the way you do, that you’ve been conditioned to pull away when things get too good. this love is good.

he’s tangled in your limbs, any part of his skin that he can get is touching yours. if he can’t give you love, he’ll show you it by wanting to be with you. his head is rested against your shirt’s being used as pillows, he watches you try to fight and untangle yourself, but ultimately fail. your heart wants this. this love is good.

“you can fall in love with me, you know?” he’s said time and time again. he says it in the most random and obscure places he feels the need to remind you. you could be playing videos, swimming, drinking beer, at dinner, etc. he’ll remind you that he’s not going anywhere. this love is good.

he sees the worry, the want to trust but you’re unsure. he doesn’t know how else to convince you he’s got all good intentions. he wakes up every morning cooks breakfast for you, makes coffee just the way you like it, holds you when you’re down, kisses you to make you smile. it’s good, nothing could ever be bad about this love. this love is good.

“what’s the worst that could happen?” he whispers in your ear, chills run down your warm spine, your body shivers despite the humid air surrounding you.

“you could leave.” you reply, moving your head to the side to look at him. those beautiful crystal green-blue eyes are practically transparent in this sun. his skin is turning tan and pink all over his bare chest, you so badly want to run your fingers over his burns, remind him to wear sunscreen.

his hand brushes against your sandy cheek trying to wipe the grains, “I’d never do that.” he wants to kiss you right now, he wants you to feel his passion and his love. he’s said those three little words, he doesn’t mind waiting to hear you say them back. this love is good.

“that’s what they all say.” you want to cry, why was he so patient? so nurturing? out of all the boys you’ve loved before, why was this one so different? you swore off men until him. until he bulldozed in and changed just about everything.

“two years.” he says, you watch him untangle himself from you flipping onto his stomach, “two years and you think I’m leaving? let go of your fears for one second.”

you move closer to him, skin touching his damp swim trunks, “okay.” you whisper, head dipping in, and he gets the hint. he’s moving closer, lips just brushing yours like they always do, but you’re determined to feel it this time. your lips softly press deeper against his, he’s shocked, you can feel him want to pull away but he doesn’t. he presses back, his lips fit like a lock in a key, and the door opens. his lips taste like sweet chapstick, there’s a passion to them that you can’t help but melt into. you can’t fight it any longer, that switch flicks and there’s no going back. this love is good.

“not so bad?” he breathes out, gravity is pulling him towards you, but you’re pulling away rolling onto your back, allowing the rays to burn your chest that’s already full of warmth from him. all you do is nod and for once when he looks over those eyes aren’t full of worry, they have something else in them. something he’s been waiting to see.

you turn your head in his direction, lips about make the three words he’s been wanting to hear, but he cuts you off, “I can wait. don’t say it when you’re not ready.” his finger tips reach for yours, palm squeezing your hand in assurance.

“I am ready, lando.” you sit up, brushing the sand that’s collected against your back, his eyes watch you for a moment unsure he’s ready to hear you say it. he’s never waited this long, but with you? it’s been worth the wait.

“I love you.” a smile creeps on your face, it’s so bright he’s never seen anything like it. he mocks your smile with one of his own, you dip your head down once more pressing a kiss to his lips, “you remind me I deserve you every day, I never want you to leave.”

“good, because I never will.”

In silent screams

In wildest dreams

I never dreamed of this

This love is good

[lvlyghost]

Maybe Someday

PAIRINGS: John Price x F!Reader

SUMMARY: She never expected to see him again, but months after their breakup they find each other.

WORD COUNT: 1.2k

TW: suggestive themes, angst, hurt/little comfort. heartbreak. lovers to(? 3rd pov. think that's it.

A/N: just something that came to my mind today whilst in the middle of a storm. enjoy!

Masterlist✨

The soft pitter-patter of rain above her dampens her hair.

The Big Ben marks the hour.

Six o'clock.

A gentle breeze that blows her strands in different directions; she shouldn't have come, shouldn't have agreed to this meeting. God knows it'd be painful. But she came, she showed up, and maybe bringing an umbrella would've been a good idea, not that she cares. She hasn't felt a thing for months now, stuck in a permanent state of numbness, the sky's dark and people around her run away from the rain. But not her. She waits as the cool air hits the uncovered flesh of her legs, resulting in goosebumps and a shiver that travels through her body.

And then the rain's gone, her sight partially blocked out. A warm body behind radiating enough heat; she remembers it. It's familiar. Eyes threatened to close and take in the well known sense of belonging. She knows him like the back of her hand.

"Eager to catch a cold, aren't you?" heart beating fast at the sound of his voice, deep and raspy. Breathing deeply she spun around facing a big broad chest, strong shoulders and a beard. Her eyes drift all the way up until she finds his face, those baby blues she was enamored with. "Rain's coming down hard, yeah?" The corners of his lips quirk up in a faint smile. 'Was he just as nervous as her?' Was he remembering all the things both had gone through? The nostalgia in his orbs glowing.

"John." She greets him at last.

Her voice is music to his ears. The same tone, the same softness and quietness. Something he loved. Soothing his nightmares away.

His bad days.

When he saw her standing alone, arms crossed over her waist, staring up at the sky in that bloody outfit. He almost wanted to scold her for her poor choice of clothing. The dark green jacket did little to nothing to protect her from the weather. Her bottom barely covered her legs.

"Love." He whispered back, leaning over her ever so slightly, something that has her sucking down a sharp breath. The black attire he wears only serves to make his eyes even more blue. Like the blue of the sea in Mykonos. John hesitates for a second but eventually offers his much better dark coat to her to which she refuses. He sighs, closing his eyes and opening them back again. "I believe you've got something for me."

From a black purse she takes out a manila envelope, trying not to think about how close he's standing, feet almost touching.

"Kate apologizes for not delivering it herself. But she's quite busy right now." She explains as John examines the envelope with curious eyes. "Said she'll reach out to you as soon as she's able."

Stuffing her hands in her pockets she chewed down on her lower lip, something that doesn't go unnoticed by John.

"You alright, love?" she freezes. Eyes boring into hers. She knows what he's truly asking. What he so desperately wants to know. The things that were left unsaid...

Give me a sign. Just one.

"Apparently the CIA wants nothing to do with this. So they're passing it on to someone who may get the job done...-"

He interrupts her, her name leaves his lips in a hushed voice that reminds her of shared late nights at his loft.

"Please... you know you can tell me. It don't matter what happened to us."

-

Sweet moans bounce around the place. The headboard that slams against the wall with every thrust of his hips. His fingers intertwined with hers. John's lips kissing down her neck. The sound of skin against skin. Hands that leave marks on his back, that he would proudly wear tomorrow morning as the everything that could have been.

Another blink of her eyes and she lays on her side, facing him as tears roll down her flushed cheeks. The same he gently wipes away with a broken heart and a deep frown on his lips. John's holding back his own emotions. It won't help anyone. She doesn't have to know how utterly broken he is by this.

"Hey..." he calls her in the quiet night. "Talk to me."

She shakes her head, she won't say a thing. He wanted answers and maybe he should've fought more. Fight to keep her close. But he always gave her what she wanted. What she asked for.

His bare legs tangled up with hers. This is it, she thinks. The last time they'll be together and it's ripping her apart at the seams. She cries silently, and John can only watch swallowing down the lump in his throat.

"Maybe someday we get that ending you imagined for us." From one moment to another he's pulling her close to his arms, laying a kiss on her forehead. More salty tears trailing down, hitting his exposed chest and she swears there'd be no one after Johnatan Price. "Just not today. Not in this lifetime. Not in this universe."

-

He waits patiently, glaring over her shoulder every now and then. He was sure no one had followed him but he couldn't risk it. One could never be too sure. If only she said the words he'd take her home. Back to where she belonged. In his arms, next to him. The small golden ring that was tucked away for months was still waiting for her to come back. It felt heavy whenever he held it in his hands.

"I guess...-" she trails off trying to find her voice. "It's hard to see you again."

John sighs feet shifting and jaw tightening.

"Not a day goes by where I don't think if... we-" his mouth snapped shut.

A loud rumble echoed through the sky above that startles her.

"Storm's coming in." She observed. Taking a step back from him, out of his reach.

John can't find it in himself to let her go just yet. Just a little longer. Please.

Please.

"Let's take cover... there's a café down the street." he points out the opposite direction.

"I don't think that's a good idea." She reasons but doesn't decline his invitation either. Taking a deep breath she fiddles with her hands. "You and I together are never a good idea." He snorts. Despite the situation. Despite the months apart, he hasn't stopped thinking about her. He hasn't stopped loving her and looking out for her even if she didn't know. What he'd do to have one more night with the girl. "But you know I can't deny that I'd kill for a latte and a chocolate cake."

Smiling fondly he gestures for her to hold the umbrella for him, she obliges. John is quick to unbutton his coat and wrapping it around her small figure. His hands rest on her shoulders and gives them a gentle squeeze.

"Now don't tell me you don't feel much better now." He takes the umbrella back and starts walking with her following down the street, arms brushing with every motion.

"You always knew how to treat a girl."

His lips twitch when he hears the words out of her mouth and she blushes aggressively. Her brain seemed to stop working when he was around.

The short trip is silent, two souls that were drawn to each other yet not meant to be together. All both could ever hope for is that another universe would soon come for them.

Or pray that something changed in this one.

[scaly-freaks]

cherry wine stains 8.0

playing it a little differently and rewinding back to their school years but with an Aegon POV this time.

all previous parts in pinned.

"I like your knee-high socks."

"I like the chain you wear like a crucifix."

"Strange way to describe it."

"I don't know. It just - it hangs around your neck like the absence of something."

Her words dissolve like sugar into the cup of his mind.

Clever people don't realise the riptide of their soul is not being fed until they meet another clever person. Aegon's currents slow to a whispered crawl as his eyes trace Amara's profile, creating images in the tangle of her windswept curls.

She's left a lipstick print on his mother's favourite mug. When he sees it, his soul unhooks from where he keeps it folded away, right there at the base of his neck where the silver chain fastens.

Later, he'll kiss that print, see if the measure of his mouth is enough.

Helaena told him in private: You can't! You can't, you can't, you can't! You ruin everything!

The frantic protests of a younger sister who thinks - knows - that her older brother getting involved with one of her friends is going to end up in a loss for her. He's dated one of Helaena's friends before (it ended in the kind of operatic disaster you only ever see on Eastenders).

He does not want to date Amara as much as he wants to pry her open like a game of cat's cradle and weave apart the strings that keep her mobile. Half the time, Aegon suspects she isn't truly awake. Some part of her is drowning in slumber, deep as Briar Rose. He catches that moment sometimes, as she blinks at him with those sleepy eyes.

The texture of her thoughts - when she gives them up - slips like satin over his fingers.

"Do you want a smoke?" He flips the mint-green box in his palm and grins.

Her gaze is longing. "I told my mother I'd quit. Besides, aren't menthol cigarettes banned here?"

He shrugs, slipping one between his pinched lips to hold it steady. "Nothing's banned if you squint."

"Flawed logic," she laughs.

"She said to a drug dealer."

That makes her laugh harder. He likes making her laugh. Feels worthwhile somehow. Not much in his life feels that way these days.

The younger siblings are all growing up, leaving school, moving onto greener pastures, where the chaotic drudgery of the council estate turns into a crystalline vision in the rearview, something to put into personal statements and add what rich tossers would call flavour.

They don't need him like they used to. He and his mother have raised them to become self-sufficient and now Aegon has to figure out what he wants to do with himself because where the kids are going, they won't want to admit what their brother does - has done - for a living to ensure their survival. He predicts he'll be the family embarrassment every Christmas, the uncle that shows up drunk, with a sliver of something in his eyes that suggests he could have been something once.

He knows he won't end up that way. His need to be someone, get somewhere, is far too aggressive. But he does fear no longer being needed by the people who have relied on him so long he can no longer extricate himself from the identity of protector.

Maybe it's why he likes making Amara laugh.

She doesn't have siblings. Her eyes still dart around, nervous, as if aware her protection in this world is lacking compared to that of others. Her parents won't always be around. When they are gone, there won't be siblings to divide her grief up with. It'll just be her.

If his subconscious is turning her into his new surrogate sister, it doesn't reconcile well with the instinct that stirs when her skirt rides up an inch.

Alicent's stained glass lamp flickers, bulb on the brink of permanent death. Aegon reaches over to ensure it is screwed on properly and it affords them a last burst of weak light. Amara reaches out her hand under the dappled glow of its illumination, slipping her fingers under the violets, yellows and greens, as the crook of her elbow turns rose pink.

"I've always liked your mother's taste in furniture."

"Yeah? Take it. She wants to throw it out."

"No. If she's decided it's dead, it should go. I'll just be keeping the corpse if I took it."

Aegon's eyes wrinkle at the corners, smile disguised by the inhale of the cigarette. "It's not organic material. There's no corpse."

She glances at him, as if aware of his mockery despite the affection he delivers it with. "I think some inanimate objects come alive if they are loved enough. Alicent's had this lamp since I've known her. It's lived with her, and now it'll die. We shouldn't interrupt the process."

No wonder Helaena adores her.

They are both odd creatures, his little sister, and this intense, doll-eyed mirage that turned up at their doorstep one day, hungry for oven chips and love. She reached out her cold hands to Alicent, and found herself overwhelmed with the warmth and affection given in return.

He's known her so long, she should feel like a sibling.

What does it say about him if he can't stop wondering what it must feel like to graze his lips over her stomach and tongue that bellybutton ring she got in a short-lived fit of rebellion?

Aegon flicks aside the cigarette, mouth acidic with guilt.

He isn't the kind of person who wants. Other people want. Aegon goes out and gets. There isn't enough time to submerge in the feeling of want and understand the true depth of craving the human soul can achieve.

But he sees the whorl of soft hair at the nape of her neck and the feeling crawls up the rungs of his ribcage like a creature possessed. He pictures being small enough to curl up in the soft folds of her clothing, to soak in the scent of her until he passes out from exhaustion.

That feels like enough wanting for today.

"I'll see you downstairs, yeah?"

If she looks disappointed, it's just wishful thinking on his part. She knows he's not going anywhere. He'll be in the living room with the rest of the family who've put on Shrek and are split into two groups - the half that sings along, and the half that won't.

"I'll be down in a bit."

"Cool."

A sudden gust of wind lifts her hair, and the flimsy ribbon comes loose. He catches it before it finds freedom. She turns, expectant, waiting for the inevitable return of her almost-lost property. He pulls it between his fingers, wonders if it also carries life inside the woven thread, the way she claimed his mother's lamp does.

The weight of her hair rivals Isolde's.

Irish myths were a rooted part of his childhood, laced into Alicent's quiet voice every bed time. She swears the Hightowers are mostly, if not fully, Irish. But she could never be sure of how far back, or of the intricacies of any bloodlines. Rich people have the luxury of unfurling a family tree across the polished mahogany of their dining room table. They get to find their eyes, noses and mouths in the faces of people who lived too long ago to care what has become of their DNA.

Poor people make do with maybes and perhaps because most of the time, the lives of their ancestors are of no interest to anyone but themselves. Unless a mining forefather was crushed in a collapse and the resulting riots tore down a political establishment.

So, his mother pulled them back to times so ancient, the ancestors became common for all, their bloodlines too distant to maintain individuality.

If Tristan and Isolde are in Aegon's ancestry, that past life becomes tangible when he runs his fingers through Amara's hair and tames it into a braid he's practiced on Helaena a hundred times.

"There's something mythical about your hair," he says, and then cuts himself short because he deals drugs for a living, and whatever fancy thought this was about to be would make more sense from someone more booksmart.

She cranes her neck back and gives him the brightest upside-down smile. "That's the best compliment anyone's ever given me."

Aegon bites the inner corner of his lip and nudges her to look straight so he can keep braiding.

Once her eyes are off his face, it splits into a smile. Warmth drains down his spine like gold egg yolk poured from its shell. Once the braid is done, he rests his chin on the top of her head, and passes it off as brotherly with a goldfish-squeeze of her cheeks.

He lingers, inhales deep, smells her, turns her scent into binary code that he will decipher in isolation later.

"Don't be too long. You'll catch your death out here."

[legitalicat]

Out of Time

Chapter 2 - "Through the Gardens"

AN: Thank you all so much for the love on chapter 1! It truly was unexpected but I'm so grateful. I hope as the story continues, the love for it does as well! This dedication has been removed.

If you love this header go check out zaldritzosrose for more amazing work! She is tagged on the series masterlist and on my welcome post!

Find the series Master list here!

Summary: From her room, through the gardens, to the Dragon Pit, their route was always the same. Aemond and Y/N walked that path so much when they were younger it was a wonderful there wasn't a permanent foot path burnt into the earth. Between two dragons, everything burns with a deep intensity.

TW: mentions of being forcefully drugged/intoxicated, talks of injury, near palpable grief, reader is AFAB, romantic/sexual tension, first person POV, Aemond giving Ser Erryk the biggest crisis of his life for approximately five seconds

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader, talks of Jacaerys Velaryon x Velaryon!Reader, ghost of a thought of Aegon Targaryen ii x Velaryon!Reader.

Word Count: 2.8 k

The Grand Maester and his younger assistant both seemed relieved with what they found. They said my ribs were cracked but were mostly healed at this point. My lip would heal in a few days. There was no evidence of my captors violating me, which caused mother to let out a sigh of relief. I had at one point had a broken wrist but it had been long since healed. The rest of the bruises and any cuts were superficial, the more extreme wounds now being pink scars.

“And her memory?” she asked the men.

“It is highly possible she was kept drunk or under some form of intoxication these last years. If that is the case, she may regain memories but I do not feel comfortable guaranteeing such a thing,” the Grand Maester said to her. I appreciated his honesty as I imagined sitting in his seat, telling the Queen the opposite of what she would want to hear.

When she dismissed them, we sat in front of my fireplace together. There were so many things I wanted to convey, but my brain couldn’t form the words. There was nothing adequate I could say or do to ease her mind, so I just sat with her in silence and watched the flames dance.

The flames seemed redder than normal with a slight shimmer to them. It was something I was certain I had never seen before but the shimmer mesmerized me. In my mind I could see it, having captured the flames in a small vial. There was a glow to the vial as the red shimmery substance flowed along every part of the glass. I imagined it tasting smoky but comfortable and pleasant, leaving me feeling warm as I drift to sleep.

I couldn’t tell you where these thoughts were coming from. All I knew is it felt simultaneously too real to just be my imagination and too ridiculous to be real.

“I think grandsire’s crown suits you,” I commented, smiling over at her. She had been so concerned over her place for years that actually seeing her with the golden crown resting on her head granted me a happiness I had never expected.

She smiled back at me. “It weighs heavily on my head at times,” she told me honestly. “Yet I am grateful it came as it was supposed to.”

Mother didn’t have to explain to me further what she meant. Though I had doubted Aegon’s desire to take the Throne, Otto Hightower was a conniving man. It would’ve been far too easy for him to succeed if Alicent hadn’t put a stop to his plans. I imagine he had planned for Aegon to wear the Conqueror’s Crown, to make people think he was more deserving.

Imagining Aegon adorning the Conqueror’s Crown caused my cheeks to heat up. He was very handsome and always had been. When I was little, I thought Aegon hung the moon and stars, and I followed him around like a lovesick puppy dog. Before I had more of an understanding of what Jace and I were, before Aemond made it clear how he wanted me, I thought Aegon was my future. In fact, he almost was.

I distinctly remember my mother approaching me before she had Joffrey. Jace and I were only seven and were becoming increasingly aware of our place in the world. One of us would be heir once she took the Throne, a decision she allowed us to make. She told me she wanted to suggest a marriage between Aegon and I if I were okay with it, which even at seven I knew would be best for our family. It was a no brainer for me. Even so, it did not come to fruition as Alicent adamantly refused.

“I think I shall go see Vhaela,” I told her, standing slowly. As long as I moved slowly, my ribs did not hurt so much.

“I have assigned Ser Erryk to watch over you, he shall accompany you,” she told me, standing herself.

Just as I was about to protest, I bit my lip and held my tongue when I saw her face. Fear could be seen on her every feature. I wondered if she now felt uneasy as I would be out of her sight for the first time all afternoon. Could she be worried I would disappear again?

“Okay, mama,” I said with a small smile. I hugged her as tightly as I could, wishing I could fix all the holes in her heart my disappearance caused.

After a moment, I pulled away and gave her a small smile before leaving my room. I nodded to Ser Erryk in a greeting as I shut the door behind me.

“Good afternoon, princess,” he said as he smiled. “Where would you like to go?”

I was about to tell him my desired destination when a voice called out to me. I turned to see Aemond quickly approaching which caused my heart to rapidly beat.

He was as perfect as he had always been. His silver hair went to his mid back just as it had for years. He wore a black leather doublet with long sleeves and matching pants with black boots. He wore his eye patch over his left eye, despite how much I had always wished he would allow himself to wander free without it. He looked simple and elegant without being boring.

“Princess,” he said as he slowed to a stop in front of me.

“Prince Aemond,” I said to him, giving him a slight nod of my head. Desperately I tried to steady my heart and slow my mind.

Jace never made me so nervous. I knew him the way one knows their favorite book. Every thought, feeling, or action could be anticipated. With Aemond, I never actually had any idea of what he could possibly be thinking. He kept his feelings and thoughts close to him, not wanting anyone to know him ever.

In fact, it wasn’t until he kissed me the first time that I ever understood his words of marrying me were rooted in feelings for me. I could remember it as clear as though it happened mere hours ago. The way I was sitting in the window of the library, reading the personal journals of Rhaenys Targaryen, when he approached me with a singular red tulip in hand. The way he looked at me as he presented it, telling me it was the only flower worthy of my beauty. What I remembered most was the way his lips felt on mine, the way it made the world go quiet if only for a moment and caused my pulse to somehow quicken yet disappear all at once.

He smiled brightly at me. It was unusual for him to smile but it was a sight that always made my heart try to beat out of my chest. It was something he had always saved only for me. When we were children, when Aegon, Jace, and Luke separated themselves from us because we did not yet have dragons, he gave me sanctuary. He made me feel better than anyone else could.

“Did you find comfort in your bath, byka zaldrīzes?” he asked me, taking my hand in his and pressing it to his lips.

“I did, issa mīsio,” I told him trying to hide my smile.

My protector. It is what I have called him for as long as I could remember. He earned the nickname when I was four and he removed a spider from my room. Luke had alwayss believed that it was something I should’ve reserved only for Jace. Yet he never understood that while Jace would fight for me, Aemond would kill for me.

“Leave us,” he instructed Ser Erryk.

“But the Queen-“ my guard said quickly. He was rather panicked at the idea of leaving me against my mother’s wishes.

“Should understand there is nobody better suited to keep the Princess safe than I am,” Aemond said firmly.

The demanding tone to his voice left no room for further debate. He had always made sure that those around us knew that everyone in the world was insignificant when compared to him in regards to keeping me safe. It didn’t matter if it was his mother, the guards, or even the Gods themselves. He would strike down anyone or anything that dared to threaten me.

I could see that there was an internal debate in his head. Which should he fear more, his Queen or Aemond? Aemond acted more frequently out of anger than Mother did.

“Mother has always trusted that Aemond is a capable swordsman and knows I am safe in his company. If anything is said I will speak to her. Thank you, Ser, for your dedication,” I told him, smiling at him. He nodded quietly and walked away, knowing I would take all responsibility and feeling ease from that.

Aemond offered his arm to me. I linked mine in his without a second thought. The year I spent here before my disappearance, this is how we walked anywhere. Arm in arm, like we were a singular entity. He would escort me everywhere, never once being late and always ready for some form of contact. I would be with him every moment I wasn’t with my grandsire.

Many ladies in the court once asked me how long it would be until we were married. I assured them that there was no possibility in that happening, but they were convinced. They said that not even their own husbands doted on them the way Aemond would dote on me. But they were always so ridiculous sounding I never gave them any mind.

We had always considered ourselves just children in a game. We were better, smarter, more talented than other players. Never did something so trivial as the gossip at courts ever stop us. But now I wonder if maybe we should’ve stopped.

“You look beautiful in that color, Y/N,” he told me as we began walking towards the gardens. This was our route every time. From my chambers, through the gardens, past the training yard, then to the Dragon Pit.

“Why am I the only one you speak to with such affection?” I asked him, raising an eyebrow. I tried to ignore the people we passed by who stopped to stare at me.

“Yet you do not respond with even half as much,” he said to me as he pulled me closer into his side. He seemed to also be aware of everyone staring.

“What is the purpose of this, Aem?” I asked him. “No longer are we children playing a game. We cannot continue as though we are only friends.”

“But we are friends,” he pointed out as we stepped out into the gardens where nobody seemed to exist.

This was one place in the Red Keep I always felt I belonged. Surrounded by flowers of brilliant blues, reds, pinks, and yellows dotting the otherwise green landscape here. The pink peonies were always very beloved by Alicent. The yellow hydrangeas were Mother’s favorite. Helaena always preferred looking for the bugs that inhabited the ground, so much so I had once destroyed the stores of garden soil they used to kill the bugs. They stopped using it when they realized It was me.

“You are in love with me,” I reminded him. Aemond chuckled at my words as he picked a purple hyacinth and put it in my hair beside the flower Mother had stuck there earlier.

“And if I remember correctly, our last night together was spent with you telling me the names of our no less than four children and all of their dragons,” he said with a smirk.

He spoke as though it were the simplest thing in the world. As though he and I were able to marry for love rather than duty. His words ignored the fact I was to marry Jace and become his queen, that my place in this world was to support my twin. It had been decided a long time ago.

“We were fooling ourselves thinking we could ever be together,” I whispered as I stopped walking. Though the knot in my throat that formed as I spoke those words made my voice sound weak and unsure.

“You are fooling yourself if you truly believe that you love Jacaerys enough to toss aside what you and I share.”

I let out a huff of annoyance. He was always so sure that he was right. He spoke so absolutely that almost anyone would believe him.

“And you think I love you enough to toss aside my duty?” I asked him.

There wasn’t enough time for me to process what he did before I was in the position. A look to make sure we were truly alone and then I was pulled into an alcove we had discovered long ago, hidden behind bushes that nobody ever looked twice at. It was small and dark, but always held room for the two of us.

“You scream my name in our nights together. You tell me over and over how you love me as you cum around me. You begged for us to go away, find someone to marry us in Valyrian tradition before you could be forced to marry him,” he whispered in my ear. “You cannot act as though you do not love me enough. Time has changed many things, but I can assure you that our love for one another is not one of them.”

“Aemond,” I whispered cautiously when he ran his fingers over the low neckline of my dress. “That was all before I was betrothed formally.”

“I wish for you to be my wife. Do not expect me to give up on that so easily,” he told me.

My heart was pounding so hard against my chest I was sure he could hear it. Maybe my mother had a point. Time had been so cruel, ripping me away from everyone I knew and loved. Maybe I should allow myself some time to play the game the way I wish to.

And Aemond was electrifying in all of the right ways. He was irresistibly handsome, almost intoxicatingly so. There was something about him that assured every bone in my body that no harm would come to me as long as I was with him.

Further than that, I loved him. Put aside the promise of safety that he had always provided and I still loved him. I had known it when he would stay with me all night as I prayed to every god in the world that my egg would finally hatch. I had known it when he pulled me out of bed to come with him the night he claimed Vhagar because I was the only one he wanted to share the moment with. When he lost his eye during the resulting fight with my brothers and cousins, I had cried for the rest of the night because I had failed to protect him the way he always protected me. And when grandsire sent for me to join him at the Red Keep, I jumped at the opportunity simply because I would be with Aemond. I loved Aemond with my entire being.

“I am still betrothed to Jace. Your desire to marry me does not change that,” I whispered even though it broke my heart.

“You can! You think I don’t remember that your mother has always given you a choice? That you got to choose whether she named you heir or Jacaerys? You have a choice, more than anyone else ever has,” he all but shouted.

There was not a doubt in my mind that he would back off if I told him I did not want him. If I made it clear that my reasons for denying him were more about how I felt rather than about duty, he wouldn’t question it for a second. My wants and desires were placed above his in regards to us. It was one of the many ways I was certain he loved me.

While I couldn’t lie to him that I did not want him, I also couldn’t decide anything without speaking to Jace. He deserved that.

“I will speak to Jace. Only after will I decide anything,” I said.

Only after several moments of silence did my words have any sway in him. It seemed that promise was enough for him as he pressed a small kiss to my forehead before exiting the alcove, gesturing me to follow. And while it may have been a better idea to leave his company, there wasn’t anything I could do to avoid taking his arm in mine and walking with him.

[steddiecameraroll]

It Takes a Muscle to Fall In Love - Part 2

Part 1 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Eddie shakes his hands at his sides and tries calming his heart down as he continues to the front door.

He doesn’t love lying to Steve but knows that if he doesn’t keep a clear line between them, his feelings will overwhelm them and ruin their friendship. 

He’s still pinching himself now, thinking he has to be living through a dream. He just had sex with the Steve Harrington. Steve Harrington proverbial ladies’ man. Steve Harrington the man who could have anyone he wanted with the flick of his pretty eyelashes. Steve Harrington, the guy whom Eddie thought was straight and has had a crush on for ages.

There’s no way Steve will want to be with Eddie. It’s just sex, incredible sex but sex nonetheless. He feels lucky the man kissed him, let alone everything else. So he told Steve it was ok, not a big deal. Gave him the safe out so he won’t feel guilty or obligated to try and explain that it didn’t mean anything. 

Because it didn’t, right?

He wishes it did, though.

God, does he wish. 

When his hand grabs the doorknob, he glances back, trying to hold this moment tight. He would etch it into his brain if he could and permanently leave a mark. 

His eyes bounce around the house, trying to use all of his senses to solidify the memory. He takes in the smell of fresh lemon, most likely cleaning products from Steve’s over-eager morning routine. The glow of the setting sun streaming in from the windows makes the house feel comforting and inviting. The texture of the metal in his hand, cold to the touch, reminding him how long he’s been in Steve’s presence.

He doesn’t want to leave.

He wants to go back upstairs, wrap his body around Steve so tight, and never let him go, but Eddie’s never been that lucky.

He doesn’t want to be greedy or overstay his welcome. He’s appreciative and grateful, and he’ll do anything to keep Steve comfortable. 

So, he takes a deep breath and pulls the door open, letting the crisp fall air bite at his cheeks.

He opens his mouth to call out, say something, tell Steve thanks, but he’s too scared his mouth might betray him, so he clamps it shut and heads to his van.

This is the best day of his life.

Fic title from song It Takes a Muscle by M.I.A.

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed): @sunfloweringstories @solalasoforth

[tani-b-art]

Janine’s district era has officially come to an end.

This episode activated my emotions more than I was expecting. [The way Quinta emoted her anxiety…had me — you (and your acting coach) absolutely deserve a standing ovation for capturing it in motion.]

I wanted to reach through the screen and hug her and calm her down on the fact alone that you could literally feel the sensory overload she was experiencing. I felt myself on the verge of crying because you could see Janine wanted this to work. So bad she wanted it to. Work in that she could do both somehow. Everything was bombarding her and she was panicking. And the reality was the position was becoming real in that she was finalizing everything to say “yes”. I thought she was about to have a breakdown right then and there. She was overwhelmed and feeling the permanence of her decision to be away from Abbott.

But there was no way she was staying away from her Abbott kids a school day longer! Because she luh them kids! So much and that’s the most touching thing about her. Her enormous love for what she does, where she does it and who she does it for.

Janine was never going to stay at the district. You could see that the minute the position was offered to her that her heart was already in limbo. She was never going to stay there only because she didn’t belong there. Her heartstrings were always pulling towards her home and her home is Abbott.

But what’s she’s gained in development professionally and personally is probably what was her true purpose to be there. And the confidence she gained while there. She’s always been confident but now her confidence is with assurance. They had full support for her and championed behind her. Her voice was heard. Her ideas were heard and backed up and she was acknowledged in a way the Abbott crew really hadn’t and didn’t (they partially do now but initially not at all). All the achievements, gains and successes she accomplished in her short amount of time there was so Janine-esque! Boss-mode! Big Teagues! Sis created and got whole approved programs in less than a year. She gets to see the fruits of her efforts too now that she’s back at Abbott and everyone (students and teachers) benefits from it (the library and gardening programs that both her crushes Ava & Gregory are enjoying).

Had a glow up in many ways (check the new and improved fits, hair, makeup, accessories)! An inward and outward glow up! It looks good on her—all the glow!

Even came back to Abbott able to be more assertive and standup to her peers that she otherwise wouldn’t have had the courage to do before (her work mom Barbara).

She should be proud of herself. I am proud of her!

Her district peers gave her a boost of confidence I’m sure she’ll always be grateful for. And now, the Abbott crew has a new kind of respect for her. Btw - y’all saw how overly excited the squad (the quad being Barbara, Melissa, Gregory, Jacob, Mr. Johnson and Ava (even though she tried hard to pretend) was when she announced she was back!? They missed her and probably won’t ever admit that they really do like and enjoy all her quirky Janineisms! She fits with them and they fit with her and they’re a family.

Even though it was temporary, She needed to be at the district (if even for a season).

[mossmurdock]

omg hi bestie :3 if ur doing requests i was wondering if we could get more stuff abt stablehand!reader x prince!gojo 🩷 only if you want to ofc! btw i love ur writing so much!

hello hello! and yes ofc!! it was very fun tapping back into this little au again :oo and thank you bestie that means so much ! i hope you enjoy

prince!gojo/stablehand!reader

Satoru’s bed is comfortable and large; capacious even, some people might simply say too big. He thinks you would say so, with a look on your face that says he grew up with too much. 

Though, he might never find out. Satoru still hasn't found a way to sneak you up into his room. 

This late afternoon is quiet, slow in chatter and bickering. Satoru came to unwind from his new frivolous duties to find you already wrapped into your chores.

“There’s hay on your back,” he says, breaking the silence. He’s been staring at it for at least five minutes now. Your shirt is thin, practically transparent, so much so that the sun is shining through the fabric, blessing Satoru with glimpses of your imperfect skin. You might be trying to kill him. “When’s the last time you bathed?” he questions cruelly. All he gets in return is a soft chuckle. 

“There’s always hay on my back, Satoru.” You don’t turn as you speak, still working on whatever it was you were doing before he walked in. The lack of obvious attention from you isn’t meant to be conveyed as dismissal. Your interest is hooked into his veiled words, trying hard to coax what he really wants to ask you out of him. When you speak that way, the hands you work with so frequently feel like they’re inside of him somehow, continuously pulling and weaving. He likes it; loves making it more difficult for you. 

“Do you sleep here?” he reiterates. 

You shift your shoulders before finally turning, wiping the sweat off your palms by dragging them across your pants. “Sometimes. When I’m too exhausted to walk back home,” you explain. 

He looks at you pointedly, “The palace is closer,” he suggests. 

That earns him more than a chuckle. “The palace is guarded. Last I heard they’re meant to be protecting someone very important there.” 

“Wouldn’t sharing the same bed be nice, though?” Satoru asks. You don’t blush at his words yet, letting them hang in the air. There’s an expression on your face that says you’re actually considering his thoughts. But you lack the time to humor him so obviously; the sun is setting and your shoulders are beginning to sag heavily. You’re missing the glow of your healthier exhaustion, instead shrouded in a paled and lethargic dullness. 

You distract, moving towards him and hesitantly nudging at the leg of the bar stool he’s sitting on. There is a strange displacement behind the action; it’s like you replaced the thought of another movement with a half baked one. Your mouth moves around the air before finally pushing something out. “I’m nearly done here."

He frowns at your words, a disgustingly dramatic expression. “You’re kicking me out.”

“I’m asking you to go rest.” You cast a fond grimace at the look on his face, placing your hands on your hips before deciding to lay them to rest on the empty sides of the stool. The space between the two of you shrinks in the span of a cruel second. Satoru’s knees are subtly pushed together as they slot between your legs; he can smell the scent of the old wood that’s permanently cemented itself into your skin, the smell of the animals you take care of, the feed you pour out for them, hay and dust are subtle but noticeable notes. 

The aroma used to be too overwhelming for him, completely ruined and punched out by the odor of manure that he used to performatively complain about, but now everything has turned warm and pleasant. It’s a complex thing, like earth during spring, like something deemed ugly taking its first beautiful breath. No one else could carry that as elegantly. 

He can never bring it back with him properly; the scent fades and erodes itself into something only slightly recognizable. It isn’t strong enough to seep into the fabric of sheets, never strong enough to wrap around him tightly as he tosses and turns. It's like a rejection of transference.

“Hypocrite,” he accuses, finally finding the sense to move his hands, ghosting them across the shadows underneath your eyes. You hold your breath when he does, suddenly tense and serious. It’s a funny thing, the way you react to him touching you won’t ever not make him preen. Your roles are reversed. He’s the only one meant to think that he’s untouchable. 

You send him away after that, hay still stuck to your back, hands curved back into your hips. He watches you head back inside without any plan, eyes empty and tired, never cast toward what could be your home. 

Satoru doesn’t sleep that night and he hopes you don’t either. Maybe the both of you will learn more quickly that way.