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nayatarot777 · 5 months

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how does your family view you? • pick-a-card

*please remember that this is your family’s perception of you. it might not be how you perceive yourself.

• pile one •

overall, i see a very positive and empowering perception that your family has of you.

first of all, they know that you’re intuitive af. clairvoyant specifically. you can see through situations and people clearly. aspects of things that they themselves perhaps miss. they feel like you can’t be lied to or tricked, so for a lot of you, your family doesn’t worry about you being naive within your friendships, relationships, and life in general. you’re not easily fooled.

there’s something about your anger too. they might see you rebuild yourself after experiencing destruction in your life - especially if someone has betrayed you or fucked you over. it seems as though you use that anger to rebirth yourself into a more “upgraded” version of yourself. you learn lessons quickly and seem to not make the same mistakes again. and thanks to your increase in awareness after these tower moments, these newfound experiences are added to your internal library of knowledge for your intuition to pick up on if similar people or situations are presented to you yet again.

you know your own power, so your family sees you as the person who dares to possess dreams and aspirations for yourself that not many others in your family would have the courage to put trust into achieving. and they know that your rebirths are motivated by what you see for yourself and your life in the future. they feel like you have a very good self esteem - or at least a high level of trust in yourself and your abilities. they feel as though you have a figurative crown on your head. if your parents are very successful people (whether that’s due to their career, building their lives from little to nothing - especially if they’re immigrants and worked hard to build the life that they have) then they believe that you’re someone who will continue on their legacy of success in your own way. i’m hearing that they don’t worry about where you’re gonna end up in life because the trust in yourself puts trust in them that you’ll build a legacy of your own.

they also see you as very head-strong. someone who controls and leads your life in whatever way you want to. you don’t seem to take no for an answer, nor pause your journey in the face of obstacles. there’s a lot of drive that you have when it comes to determining what your world looks like according to your vision. there’s something untameable about you. almost like you don’t listen to anyone. you trust that you know what’s best for you so you’re the ruler of your own kingdom with your clear vision.

despite all of your seemingly extravagant or unconventional dreams, your family believes that you’re extremely grounded in reality. you have a great balance of living within your internal world as well as the physical world. in stressful moments of life, you can balance out your emotions and view things practically. you have a good head on your shoulders and you listen to what comes from your heart space. what you actually feel in all of its authenticity and honesty.

your family also believes that you’re extremely body confident. whether this is because you take care of your body through exercise and eating well, or because you dress however the fuck you want to. the way that you dress could be a style that shows off your body for a lot of you. your family sees your self love and your self worth through this.

significant numbers: 12, 13, 28, 24, 15, 21

astrological placements/aspects: pisces/neptune, scorpio/pluto, aries/mars, taurus/venus

for more readings, check out my patreon!

• pile two •

your family views you as someone who has already undergone or who is undergoing some type of powerful personal growth within yourself. this could be related to listening to yourself and your own intuition. your family may feel like you feel as though you can’t trust them, despite trying to for so long. but for some of you, they can tell that you’ve finally decided to listen to yourself and see them for who they truly are. they can see sadness in your eyes or in your face whenever they look at you. there’s a feeling of betrayal here - from them towards you - that they recognise.

they view you as someone who feels detached from them. they could try to show you love but they can tell that you feel uncomfortable whenever they do. they’d describe the familial “love” between you and them as strange or unfamiliar to you. this “love” could’ve come after they realised that you were growing more distant from them as a last attempt at keeping you close to them. but again, they know that you know the truth about them and so the feeling of awkwardness during these attempts at trying to show affection towards you is mutually felt. they feel like you don’t want their love. like you’d rather just be left alone by them. these family members may be very energetically draining and this is how you protect your energy from them. and there’s also a feeling of this love being forced. not genuine. it’s fake or forced out of them for a lot of you and you can see that.

they might also be aware of some body image issues that you have. or this might just be their perception of you - especially if you have any body modifications like tattoos and piercings that they don’t approve of. they view this as “mutilation” of your body. i’m also seeing them view you as someone who’s very protective over your body with the clothing that you wear. based on the way that you completely cover up or your oversized clothing. so if you do have any body image issues, they might’ve picked up on them based on that observation. at least you dress like this around them. you might be uncomfortable wearing certain things around your family because they always have some comments to make about your body. but i am sensing some shame about your body for some of you. i’m seeing that for a lot of you, your family feels like you don’t treat your body like a temple. if these are the same people who’d make negative, nitpicking comments about your body then idk wtf they expect. that might’ve been their goal tbh (for those of you with malignant ass, jealous ass family members who want you to feel like shit about the way that you look).

for others of you, it’s the opposite and your family feels like you dress “too revealingly” in public or maybe online in your social media posts. for a minority of you, your family knows about your online sex work (or this is an assumption that they’ve made about you). but for some of you, there’s something about your family feeling like you’re too naked in the public eye. this could also be metaphorical, meaning that your family may feel like you’re well-known by people but i don’t get a good energy from this (from their perspective anyway). they may feel like you’re known for something that’s not a positive thing to be known for. or like you’re just vulnerable in the public eye.

they view you as someone who takes the time to take steps forward in your life. and they may feel like you’re waiting on divine timing to make moves in your life. but some of your family members view this as you just being lost and “behind” in life in some way. like your head is just up in the clouds and like you don’t really know where you’re headed in life. they don’t understand moving forward when you feel like you should be moving.

they know that you have a lot of childhood trauma to unpack. and they feel like your heart is blocked or locked because of it. for some of you, your family would like to figure out how to unlock it but i feel like they feel as though there’s not much that they can do. you may have been a very angry child, and i feel like you’re not necessarily an angry person now but your family can tell that you’re suppressing a lot. and that in order to unlock your heart (your feelings), you’re going to have to let out a lot of anger and resentment first.

significant numbers: 41, 27, 2, 18, 24, 35

astrological placements/aspects: chiron, venus in scorpio/8th house, venus conjunct chiron (particularly in the 4th house/conjunct the ic), taurus, lilith in taurus/2nd house, aquarius/uranus, lilith in 11th house/aquarius, pisces/neptune, mercury in pisces, chiron in 4th house, chiron in 5th house, aries/mars in 5th house, sun in aries, pluto in 1st house, scorpio rising, chiron in aries, chiron aspect mars (mainly conjunct)

for more readings, check out my patreon!

• pile three •

your family view you as someone who prefers to be alone. even if you know that there are people around you who love and care for you, you still prefer to be by yourself. and some of them can tell that it’s because you only feel comfortable enough to be vulnerable with yourself.

they also might view you as quite messy too, whether this is your bedroom or your home in general. but there’s a lack of energy that they witness you having that’s the root cause of this.

despite all of this, they view you as someone who’s very accepting of your solitude that you use for the sake of finding peace. you could be very meditative or very peaceful by yourself within your own energy. and they feel as though, whenever they bother you in your alone time, you become very defensive and repel them. some of you may struggle with depression, but it’s not depression that you want help with. not from them at least.

this energy is vastly different to how they viewed you before. maybe compared to when you were a child. because there was some type of sudden shift in your energy towards them that resulted in you being very isolated and repellent towards them.

they either feel like they don’t know you after this shift or they feel like you don’t really know yourself. someone in your family in particular feels like you’re forgetting who you are who where you came from. maybe even who you came from. they feel like you wear a mask around them. as if there’s always a detachment between you and them. kind of similar to pile two.

i’m getting a lot of “black sheep” energy from you guys. like your family just doesn’t understand you but they know that you’re not really interested in being involved with family gatherings or interactions. if you believe that they do know that you know who you are very well, they view you as someone who hides who you truly are from them. and if you’ve always been singled out or you’ve just always felt different to everyone around you then it makes sense.

they view you as someone who’s at peace with yourself though. just not at peace when being around them. this could make them deeply sad and upset as there’s an energy of them not being able to quite pinpoint why this is the way it is. unlike in pile two. pile two’s family we’re outwardly toxic. but for you guys, i feel like your family just don’t understand you. maybe they never really tried to make an effort to. but whatever the culprit of the reasons behind your familial connections, there are a lot of unknown things that your family feels like they don’t know or understand about you.

significant numbers: 17, 9, 17, 6, 22, 10 - look up the angel number 1717 for an extra message

astrological placements/aspects: pisces, leo, pluto in 5th house, (heavy) scorpio, lilith in 4th house, pluto in 4th house, strong sun-pluto aspects, connection between cancer + scorpio/pluto placements

for more readings, check out my patreon!

#pick a card #psychic readings #pac #tarot reading #pick a photo #tarot #pac reading #pick a picture

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castieltrash1 · 1 year

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the devil has come home → charlie w.

summary → during one of your regular movie nights, charlie asks to take your relationship a step forward

word count → 3.4k

warnings → smut; virgin!charlie x f!reader, oral, literally an entire fic dedicated to charlie eating pussy idk what u want me to say, dirty talk, switch!charlie, established relationship, almost fingering, premature ejaculation, cumming untouched, overstimulation, and hair pulling

a/n → everyone and their mother is in their rory culkin era rn so here u go, whores (affectionate) <3 no but fr i watched scream 4 the other day and knew what i had to do so pls enjoy xoxo

+ bonus points to whoever can figure out the title ;)

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Charlie shifts beside you, gnawing at his bottom lip to restrain the interruption on the tip of his tongue.

“Did you know,” he suddenly begins, unable to stop himself. “That the school is actually called Ewen High in the book?” On the screen in front of you, a meek Carrie White stumbles through the library in a scene oddly similar to your boyfriend’s own reclusive attitude, and you drag your tired eyes to meet his; wide, with an excited glint reflecting off their pale blue hue. “They renamed it in the adaptation as a nod to Psycho.”

“Really?” you ask, surprised. “I don’t think you’ve told me that one yet.” The comment, while honest, makes Charlie flustered, and he unconsciously shifts closer to the opposite end of the couch. “But I like hearing about all the facts you know,” you reassure his silent insecurity, nuzzling closer. Pressing your lips to his shoulder and kissing the soft cotton sleeve of his shirt, you continue, teasing: “Even if I have heard most of them before.” He groans, but his chest rumbles beneath you with his own restrained amusement.

Peering up at Charlie, you prepare for what is bound to be a lengthy explanation. “So, what, it’s like Norman Bates?” you ask, but Charlie simply nods, mumbling a quiet affirmation under his breath. Already, his eyes are locked back on the television, colorful lights bouncing off his face. It must be his tenth time watching the classic horror film but he stares with the amazement of a first-time viewer, as if he wasn’t rambling about something called a split diopter shot just a few scenes ago.

You can’t help but smile at his quick shift in attention, ultimately content with settling down and letting him focus. As long as a scary movie is playing, you’ll always be the second most important thing in the room to Charlie; a title you hold with pride. Unlike others in his life, his passion doesn’t bother you. In fact, you find yourself admiring his ability to juggle a film studies degree, the leadership position of your college’s cinema club, and weekly series rewatches with the rest of his busy life. Your only complaint would be having to share the small couch in his apartment with Robbie, whose presence makes the already rare mid-movie makeout session completely non-existent. Thankfully, he’s visiting family this weekend, but the lack of a clingy roommate has seemingly had zero effect on Charlie’s inclination to make a move.

So, when your boyfriend awkwardly clears his throat, you quickly tune back in, caught off-guard by the scene unfolding. On-screen is a vivid reminder of the part of your relationship that, up until now, has been virtually unexplored. Despite being unphased during the naked locker room title card, Charlie now fidgets uncomfortably as one of the male characters, whose name you can’t remember, receives a blowjob in his car. The actual act is offscreen, but there’s enough crotch-leveled head bobbing in the camera’s view to surmise what’s happening below the cutoff.

When it comes to anyone else’s sex life, Charlie is as interested as you could expect any newly independent young guy to be. If a couple is getting handsy during a party or other gathering, he’s the one to speak up and tease them about getting a room. When one of your friends unknowingly makes an innuendo, it’s him who laughs, derailing the conversation with some form of that’s what she said joke. Even during the gratuitous nudity scenes popular in his favorite genre, your boyfriend usually pairs his reddened cheeks with a low whistle of appreciation.

Simply put, Charlie is not a prude.

That fact had been what stumped you as your relationship grew, regular milestones coasting by at average speeds. It took three instances of him not reaching under your bra during makeout sessions, happily groping at your chest through two layers of clothes, for you to realize that his personal experience ended abruptly atop second base. Even when it was physically obvious he was ready to move on, Charlie had never mentioned or hinted at continuing, so neither did you. Now, it’s almost as if the glaring depiction of a couple being intimate has finally reminded him how little you two have done.

Thankfully, a bout of bad editing eases the sudden tension. “How is she talking right now?” you snort, referencing the actress’ voiceover poorly edited into the scene. Charlie flinches at your interruption, but you barely notice, too busy jabbing your pointer finger directly at the screen. “She’s still got John Travolta’s dick in her mouth!”

“Billy,” Charlie tensely corrects.

Assuming his tone is just a result of your outburst, you roll your eyes. “Whatever. All I’m saying is you can barely remember how to breathe while giving head, let alone start… I don’t know… monologuing about the girl you hate.” You huff, shaking your head. “Sorry, I won’t interrupt again. Promise,” you apologize, feeling a wave of guilt wash over you when Charlie doesn’t immediately reply. You hadn’t meant to insult him or the movie, but maybe your attempt at a bad joke had fallen short, too personal and poorly timed to do anything more than hurt his feelings.

You start to pull back, intent on apologizing again but are surprised to see Charlie already staring at you. Thinking he’s waiting for your regretful spiel, you start to speak. “I’m s-”

“I want to try,” Charlie says at the same time. The rest of your words suffocate in your hitched breath, offering a subsequent silence that he quickly tries to fill. “Giving you head or, like, e-eating you out, I mean.” The admission makes him swallow heavily, wide eyes unblinking, and you sit there motionless in surprise. When you offer little more than a shaky exhale in response, Charlie squeaks out an excuse. “Not that we - not that you have to or anything, I just…” Regret spreads across his face and you quickly recover, grabbing his shaking hand with yours.

“Okay,” you agree, trying to steady your breathing as the image of Charlie between your thighs flashes through your head. “Are you sure?” He nods so quickly that you almost blink and miss it.

“I’m definitely sure,” Charlie reassures, squeezing your fingers between his. “A-are you?”

“Definitely,” you echo, already feeling a steady warmth spread across your body. Despite your shared revelation, there’s a long moment where neither of you moves even an inch, hands clasped together as if carved from one marble stone. It isn’t until Charlie’s gaze flickers to your still-parted lips that you take the bait, reeled closer and closer until your mouth meets his.

“Fuck,” Charlie breathes, words becoming a muffled vibration when you press harder, tongue dragging to gather the taste of him. You reach for his hair now, dark waves weaving themselves between each of your fingers, and he lets out a little whimper when you tug, pulling him against you. His grip seems to have no end in sight, blindly reaching at and grasping whatever parts of you he can, fingers meeting your thighs, hips, chest, and neck. His thumbs prop up your chin, giving him the angle to lick needily inside your mouth, and you melt in his grasp, letting him take what he needs.

“Can I…” Charlie leaves a shallow bite mark on your bottom lip, soothing it with a gentle pass of his tongue. His fingers dip to the hem of your shirt now, tips brushing the inside seam. Faintly, you remember he’s never felt you here. He inches back just enough to speak clearly, voice filling the thin space between you. “Y-you can take it off and…” Already, he’s trying to pull the offending garment over your head, and you let go of his hair to help, tossing your shirt to the side the second you can.

Despite your arching into him, Charlie doesn’t immediately kiss you again, lashes fluttering as he stares shamelessly at your exposed skin. Without thinking, you reach back to undo your bra clasp with ease, straps sliding down your arms until they fall off completely. Still amazed by the previous sight, Charlie inhales sharply, pupils blown out with lust as you become barer in front of him.

“Woah…” he finally breathes, fingers tentatively brushing right below your chest. Slowly, his touch inches higher until he gives in, cupping your tits softly. The warmth between your thighs grows as he feels you in ways you’ve only imagined alone at night, eyes squeezed shut and fingers under your panties. “Holy shit.” Each exclamation falls under his breath as if he can’t contain them, commenting only to himself. “Fuck…” His grip tightens, thumbs dragging over your hardening nipples, and you sigh. “You’re so… soft.” With a grin spreading across his face, Charlie looks to you for reassurance, squeezing harder when you nod and let out a pleased sound. “D-does it feel good?”

“Mhm.” You wonder if he can feel your heart pounding, skipping beats against his hands. “You can be rougher, though,” you tell him, reaching up to lay your palms on the back of his. “I’ll tell you if it hurts, I promise.” Growing more confident from your words, Charlie begins experimenting with different levels of pressure, nails digging into your skin one second and then pinching and tugging at your nipples the next. His breathing grows heavier with each passing moment, and you can’t help the low moans escaping your lips at the feeling of his desperation and the excitement radiating off of him.

And then, without needing any reassurance, Charlie replaces his hands with his mouth, sucking eagerly at every inch of your heaving chest. “S-shit,” you gasp, then let out a breathy laugh. You push some of his long hair back, tucked behind his ears, and smile at the sight of him. His eyes are closed, face red and warm, lips slick with spit as he runs his tongue against the contours of your body. “You’re so good,” you tell him, panting when he moans against you at the praise, the vibration tingling your skin. He wraps his mouth around your nipple before pulling it between his teeth, the sharp sting sending a shiver up your spine.

“I could do this forever,” Charlie lets go to admit, and then, remembering the task at hand, begins to descend lower, kissing and licking down your bare stomach. His hands steady your twitching hips, ticklish as his soft hair brushes your sensitive skin. You continue to whisper praises until he reaches the waistband of your pajama pants and halts. He swallows heavily, the movement of his bobbing throat almost audible above the drone of the television. You blindly reach for the remote and crank down the volume until it plays a low buzz of sound you can barely make out. God help him if your boyfriend gets distracted by a bucket of pig’s blood at a time like this.

“Do I just…” Charlie trails off, unable to vocalize his thoughts. Instead of answering verbally, you lift your hips, fingers meeting his. You drag the elastic past your thighs, letting Charlie pull the rest of the fabric off once it reaches your knees. He stares intently at every inch of your exposed legs, amazed by the sight, as he mindlessly tugs your feet free. It’s only when you start to move, making yourself comfortable against the arm of the couch, that Charlie finally shifts, offering you more space. He moves closer the second he’s able to occupy the emptiness between your legs.

It’s not the most ideal position but if you stop him now, Charlie might lose his boost of confidence in the few seconds it takes to walk down the hall to his room. With one knee pressed against the back of the couch, your opposite leg balancing precariously on the edge of one of the cushions, you spread out as much as you can, offering yourself to Charlie entirely. Even with your whole body on display, his eyes stay locked on one spot: the center of your underwear, where a wet spot is surely visible. You love knowing the only other time he has this look is when one of his favorite films is on.

“Is this good?” you ask, breaking him from his stupor. He blinks, confused. “The position,” you clarify, smiling at the blush that rapidly coats his cheeks.

“Y-yeah, it’s…” Charlie clears his throat, leaning in slowly. “It’s perfect. You are, I mean. You’re perfect,” he whispers, gaze darting from your face to your panties before returning. “I can see it… Does it - do you feel good?” Even with the physical proof, he seems unsure, the tone of his question bordering on disbelief. Before you can find your words, he moves in, shaky fingers meeting the inside of your thighs. “What can I do?” he asks, skin growing redder with desperation. “I-I wanna turn you on more and-”

“Charlie,” you interrupt, propping yourself up on your elbow. “You’re doing so good.” Your amazement thankfully doesn’t embarrass him, and soon enough you feel his warm exhale right where you’ve imagined him so many times before. “I-I’ll probably cum pretty fast,” you tell him, unable to make the desperate confession sound like a tease. “If you want, you can tease me through- fuck,” you gasp, feeling Charlie’s nose bump against your clothed clit, his tongue darting out to tentatively lick at the damp fabric covering you. You whimper something that vaguely sounds like his name when he presses harder, now dragging his tongue over the entirety of your core.

“Charlie,” you repeat breathlessly, grabbing at the hair that frames his face. “T-take them off, please,” you suddenly find yourself begging, hips arching for more. When lithe fingers brush against you, you almost whine at what is surely an attempt at teasing, but then Charlie is pushing your panties to the side and tentatively sucking at your now exposed cunt. Overwhelmed by the change in sensations, you buck into the feeling, immediately rewarded by the slow drag of Charlie’s tongue circling your clit before lowering to ease inside you. The technique in his actions is not lost on you and you heave in a breath, trying to speak.

“Y-you’ve really n-never?” you squeak out, thighs squeezing around his cheeks when he attempts to shake his head. When he pulls back, you shiver at the feeling of your panties sliding back into place, fabric sticking to your wet skin. Charlie looks up at you shyly, instinctively licking his lips clean of your arousal.

“I’ve… I’ve imagined this a lot,” he whispers, tone rising as he grows more confident. “You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.” His cheeks are flushed and his body shakes as he clings to you for support in every form. “I’m just gonna take off your panties and- and I want you to cum, okay? Don’t hold it back or anything, please. I-if you need to hold me in place or move me, just do it. I’ll…” Stunned by his proclamation, you wait in awe for him to finish. “I’ll be good for you, I swear,” he finally promises.

True to his word, Charlie immediately resumes the task at hand, finally tugging your panties completely off and shoving them to the side. Despite the vulnerability of your position, laid bare for him, you can’t stop yourself from bucking your hips when he leans back in. Charlie drags a soothing palm down the inside of your thigh before his mouth is on you again, now slower and more precise. His gaze is focused, flickering between your expression and body, taking in every shift of your features and shiver that runs across you.

He starts by tasting the entirety of you, tongue flattened and firm as it glides against your cunt. He repeats the motion a few times, letting you grind onto him until you both build a steady rhythm. It’s not enough to make you cum, but it isn’t meant to be; a consistent sensation that keeps you wanting more, without unbearably teasing you. That comes when Charlie begins to flick his tongue against your clit, so quickly and effortlessly that it takes your breath away. A litany of sounds escapes you as he dedicates all of his attention to your most sensitive spot, torturing it endlessly. His own moans only add to the sensation, a low vibration that seems to trail up the rest of your body, filling your head with a rhythmic buzz.

“Fuck,” you gasp, vision blurring and thighs trembling as Charlie replaces his tongue with his thumb, calloused skin circling your clit in a steady motion. With his mouth free, and between quick inhales, he starts to speak again.

“You taste so good,” he says, the vulgarity of his words no longer seeming to phase him. He rubs harder, faster, and his breathing hastens. “I-I want you to cum on my tongue, please?” His question sounds more like a plea, especially with the way he seems to pant around each word. “I’m gonna keep licking h-here, okay?” he asks, thumb dragging lower until the tip sinks into you with ease. Both of you still, the motion propelling the room into complete silence. Charlie lets a bit more of his thumb push into you before he pulls back completely, shakily exhaling. “It… You’re so warm,” he remarks, staring intently at where the arousal slowly drips from you. Like a moth to a flame, his mouth returns, messily licking clean your wetness.

You cry out his name, tugging on his hair so harshly you know it must hurt, but he doesn’t relent. Your hips buck and you grind your clit against his firm thumb, his tongue pressing inside you just as the thick digit had moments prior. Your mantra is only quietened by the sound of Charlie’s, a muffled please, please, please mouthed against your core that has you spiraling, desperation mirroring his. A quick glance shows you that while his head and hands are focused, the rest of his body is uncontrolled as he ruts against the sofa, so turned on he can’t help but chase release.

The sharp edge of your own impending orgasm hits you so hard it seems to isolate the rest of your senses, body and mind falling into an endless abyss with only Charlie’s touch anchoring you to the present. His incessant effort to satisfy himself with your pleasure intensifies everything until you find yourself succumbing to his ultimate desire. A broken admission falls from your lips as you cum on his tongue, neverending high propelled as his licking and rubbing only grow in speed and desperation. Even after you’ve stopped grinding against him, Charlie tastes you like it’s his last chance, his hips bucking wildly into the cushion below. He eventually slows, but his tongue doesn’t stop, and you’re too overwhelmed to realize what’s happened.

It takes you whimpering from overstimulation and pulling Charlie back by his hair to make him stop, his mouth chasing you even after you’ve pressed your trembling thighs together, knees digging into his heaving chest. After a few seconds, he seems to blink back some clarity, swallowing heavily and shifting back awkwardly, cheeks flushed bright red. “Charlie?” you breathe, shakily pushing yourself into a sitting position. “Are you - oh.” Despite his quick maneuvering, the new angle allows you to see the slowly spreading wet spot at the front of his jeans.

“I-I’m so sorry,” Charlie squeaks out, trying to yank himself from the couch. “Let me just - fuck, uh - go to the bathroom or something and…” When he tries to cover his crotch with his hands, you bat them away, immediately reaching for the zipper and button on his pants. “W-what are you doing?” he asks but doesn’t stop you, even when you ease his sensitive and spent cock out from his stained underwear. His expression is pure shame as he quickly hardens in your grasp, hips bucking to escape the overstimulation of your fingers wrapped around him.

“Let me return the favor,” you tell him, tilting your head softly in silent questioning. He must only think of the wetness of your mouth on him since his blush deepens, cock twitching against your slick palm. You stroke him slowly and softly until he stutters out a yes, which you reply to with a widening grin, unknowing that he’s imagined this moment more than you could ever guess.

You lean down with a teasing imitation of his previous word and Charlie suddenly feels all of his wet dreams come true.

“I want you to cum on my tongue, okay?”

#charlie walker smut #charlie walker #scream 4 #scream 4 smut #rory culkin #rory culkin smut #charlie walker x reader #charlie walker imagine #charlie walker oneshot #charlie walker fanfic #scream 4 fanfic #scream 4 imagine #scream 4 oneshot #charlie walker x reader smut #fic: the devil has come home #t: writing

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teaboot · 1 year

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True facts about my home town that I think about sometimes:

Nobody knows how big it is or what the borders are. There is some general consensus on what buildings are inside the town and which buildings are outside the town, as well as which buildings are definitely a different town entirely, but there is no clear "You are now in" or "You are now leaving" type locations you can point to on a map.

Tangentially, there are people one or two towns over, less than a 45 minute drive away, who will regularly ask "where is that?" Or, "I've never heard of that place" when you mention the town by name.

There are so few people that it is technically classified as a Village.

For many years, our only gas station did not sell gas. Once it began selling gas, I remember that they had to patch up the giant hole in a nearby billboard and use it to declare, "We Have Gas!", which was hilarious.

The whole place is mostly just woods.

There is some disagreement among locals as to whether or not there are wolves in the area. That being said, I have absolutely seen wolves in the area.

There is a public transit system that passes through. That said, it only stops by three times a day, and there are no set stops, so you kind of just have to pick a spot on the side of the road and hope for the best. If you are already on board and want off, you have to ring the bell and tell the bus driver where to pull over, which they may or may not do depending on the driver, the weather, traffic conditions, and general vibes.

I had three neighbors and I didn't even see any of them until about fifteen years in. One property across the road was a farm where I never saw anyone outside, but cars and equipment would move places throughout the day.

There is a post office. The woman who operates it is generally regarded as either incompetent or genuinely malicious, as she will often send mail back where it came from with the justification that she doesn't believe your address is real.

The nearest actual city, with schools and a library and a hospital, famously has absolute dog shit cell service to the point that it is locally famous for it.

My childhood home specifically had a reputation for being a bad traffic spot despite being along a strip of straight road with no turns, and we regularly had to patch up holes in the fence from cars going through it. Most notable was one crash that woke me up as a child on Christmas morning, which I received a lovely thank-you card for noticing after I fetched my parents to assist.

Another time when I was a kid I went outside to find a car with the rear wheels in the air, nose-first in a ditch. I was home alone, so I went inside to call 911 on the landline, where I was immediately put on hold.

Someone stole our church and kept it for several years before inexplicably bringing it back and leaving it behind town hall. Just lifted it off the foundation and trucked it away.

The whole place is just around 100 years old and if you go into the woods you can still find hundreds of humongous tree stumps with foot holds carved into them from when the first white people came in and started settling down.

Apparently an entire family was axe murdered here in like the 80's and nobody talks about it

#Death tw

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sister-cna-reader · 1 year

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DC x DP

“Do you know anyone willing to date a ghost-touched woman over 6ft tall?”

Barbara Gordon blinked slowly at the lanky teenager who asked the question. His arms were full of astronomy books and he was leaning in close as if it was a serious question.

“It depends? I’m a librarian, not a matchmaker.” she replied, holding her hands out for the books to scan. “Why are you asking? It’s an awfully specific criteria.”

Daniel Nightingale was the name of the boy before her. Just registered in the library system a little under 3 months ago. 17 years old and with that black hair, sky blue eyes and scars on the hand partially covered by a fingerless glove- Wayne adoption bait.

“My older sister is great and all.” he said, fidgeting with his sleeves, “But I think she needs to live a little you know? She’s so.. So….” he made a compressing motion with his hands, like packing a snowball.

“Repressed?” Barbara suggested, scanning the book on the Hubble Telescope.

With a snap of his fingers he grinned. “Exactly! Now if only I could find a guy for her that is ghost-touched…” he muttered under his breath.

“What do you mean by ‘ghost- touched’?”

“Oh you know,” he mimicked the paddles of a defibrillator, “Clear!” he chuckled.

Did this lady have a heart attack? Heart problems?

“I died but it didn’t stick, so someone who is like me would be good. Then we wouldn’t have to explain the whole thing.”

“Oh, I see.” the redhead said, not understanding much at all. “Due date for the books is in one month. I’ll keep an eye out for your sister?”

Danny nodded and gathered all the books into a beat up backpack. “You can’t miss her. Long red hair, super tall, looks like she’ll either have a nervous breakdown or murder someone if you bump into her.”

Barbara could only nod in agreement to the boy as he seemed to float out of Gotham Public Library.

Jazz was ready to shove her little not-quite-dead brother into the Fenton Thermos. She was doing well at her counseling position at the University, but Danny had insisted that her newfound hours of free time should be used in romantic pursuits.

“If you had friends you hung out with I won’t pester you. But Jazz! You need to do something fun!” He had said from the kitchen counter, hair glowing and eyes like two green beacons. “Live a little! We’re already part dead! Let go!”

So she trudged her way to the Public Library. If she had to get out of the house to shut her brother up, she’d at least be an introvert about it.

Jazz put on her best pleasant face and made her way to the librarian’s desk to get registered.

The woman behind the counter was like looking into a warped mirror. Glasses, hair just a shade brighter, and eyes the wrong color looked back at her in mirrored surprise.

“Bad hair day?” the mirror image guessed, pointing at the slouchy hat and messy bun that contained the mass of copper hair that Jazz hadn’t cut in the last year.

“Uh yeah. Little brother was pestering me about going out, so I’m here for a library card.” Jazz rambled, doing her best to not play with the strap of her purse.

“I’m Barbara, and welcome to Gotham Public Library!” The woman smiled warmly.

When Jazz handed over her ID for Barbara to input the required information in the database the lady smirked. “I met your brother a few days ago actually. Tall, scrawny, likes space?”

Jazz groaned. “I’m so sorry about him.”

The librarian’s glasses were white from the monitor. “Oh don’t worry about it, I know how younger siblings are. They mean well, they’re just annoying about it.”

Card squared away, Jazz went in search of a quiet corner to read a trashy romance novel in.

Jason took his rare day off to visit the Library. He was also going to drop off a coffee for Barbara, and maybe sweet talk some info out of her.

He needed some blackmail to lord over some birds.

“Jason! How good to see you in the daylight! Oh! Coffee! Gimmie,” his favorite tech person greeted.

Coffee offering made, Jason and Barbara traded information.

“You should take a load off.” She suggested, waving him away towards the adult fiction shelves as some patrons came to check out. “See you at dinner Sunday!”

The building was warm today, rare sunlight coming through the skylights and windows, making his leather jacket too hot to wear indoors. And there was nothing else pressing on his schedule today, so why not read a bit?

Austen novel in hand, Jason made his way to his favorite reading nook. Instead of the two empty armchairs he’d push together into a lounge, there was a woman already there, firmly in the ray of sun that made her red hair look like fire.

Her long legs were stretched out, boots cluncking together in a slow rhythm as she read.

“Oh,”

Bright green eyes startled and looked at him dead in the eyes. He blinked, and they were no longer green but a calming ocean blue.

“Sorry,” she said, folding her legs back to let him pass.

“Nah, it’s okay, I kind of want to soak in some sun too. Mind sharing?” Jason offered, fully prepared to leave the tall amazon alone. But deep down he felt something warm and grow fuzzy.

“Sure,” she scooted her chair over and pulled the other closer so they both shared the spot of sun. “I’m Jazz.”

He sat down next to her and the scent of her shampoo reminded him of the herby bread that Alfred made with soup. She stretched out again and he realized that her legs were much longer then his.

“I’m Jason.”

Inside the pit barely rippled.

Her phone beeped and she opened the beat-up thing to scoff. “Danny for Ancient’s sake,” she typed something out only for another beep to immediately reply.

Jason frowned. “Danny your boyfriend?”

Blue eyes met him in an exasperated roll. “No. He's just a little brother who can’t mind his own business. Now he wants a selfie to prove ‘I’m not alone being a cave troll.’ Just a sec.”

She started to angle away to send a picture of her flipping off the phone, but Jason pulled her closer and let his arm be visible around her shoulders in the selfie. He hadn’t thought, just acted.

There was a surprising amount of muscle under that sweater.

The pit purred in pleasure and Jason wanted to melt into the floor.

Jazz giggled, her smile showing teeth that were just a little too sharp. “Oh he’ll be happy with this I think. Only thing that would be better is if you had a big black motorcycle. That’d send him through the roof.”

His breath hitched. The sun must’ve been too hot, and he felt himself grow warm under that bright smile.

“Would a black and red motorcycle do?” Was this flirting? Was he flirting? Was it working? He hoped it was working.

Those eyes lit up again and she tossed the book onto the chair, towering over him. “That’s perfect. He hates the idea of me on a motorcycle with a biker boyfriend.”

Jason stood up and tossed his jacket to Jazz with a feral smile. “Let’s get you some pictures riding a motorcycle my lady.”

The pit crowed in happiness, a rare thing when not caused by blood or murder. He made sure to get a few pictures of her on his bike with his own phone before remembering it should really be on Jazz’s phone, to send to Jazz’s brother.

Not wanting the fun time to end, he put his helmet in her hands. “I know a good burger joint. Want to stay out late? See some sights?”

He was so focused on the redhead woman in his leather jacket straddling his bike, he forgot about the other redhead with access to the security cameras.

#dp x dc prompt #anger manegment #jason todd #jasmine fenton #Jason/Jazz #danny phantom #Liminal Jazz #if I write more it'll go up on Ao3

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starcurtain · 4 months

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The Kinda Unhinged Ratiorine Fic I Want to Read

In an (admittedly very contrived) AU situation, Dr. Ratio finds out he's about to be cut out of his (mostly estranged) family's inheritance forever because of his complete lack of interest in continuing the family line. Which, all factors considered, does make perfectly logical sense. Investment of capital should go to the branch of the lineage most likely to benefit from it, and Cousin Tiberius has five sons and daughters already. Let the house and the trust fund go to them.

But the library.

There's absolutely no way Veritas could bear to be permanently parted from the staggering assemblage of paper volumes under his collected family's auspices. Not only would being separated from tomes so full of memories be heart-wrenching, but think of the devastating blow to his research! There are records in those archives that no other mortal eyes have ever gazed upon!

So there's only one solution for it: He needs to pass on his family name, immediately.

(Andddd the rest is under a read more because what is brevity?)

Problem 1: Veritas Ratio is very gay.

Problem 2: Statistically, single men have the lowest chance of being selected for adoption placement, and this Child Welfare Agent is looking at his alabaster head very, very strangely.

Think, Ratio, think. What is the most efficient way to solve such a tedious quandary?

The obvious first step is to increase his likelihood of being selected by the adoption agency, and the quickest way to do that is... Eureka! How elegant a design! He just needs to enter into a (temporary) committed and stable partnership to demonstrate a degree of domestic dedication and home-building prowess!

Problem 3: ...Where in the universe is he going to find a stable and committed man willing to marry him?

Ratio does not exactly possess the world's most endearing personality. He might... never have had any form of romantic relationship lasting past a one-night stand even, because it turns out most people don't like being scored a 2/10 on their technique during intercourse.

So he's probably not going to find a stable and committed man.

But... He might at least find someone willing--for the right price.

Enter Aventurine (stage left). He's as expensive as they come, the greatest reward saved for the highest bidder, but despite his festering ambitions, he's still trapped as nothing more than a high-class escort, owned by a company the IPC has on the books as selling everything but what they actually trade in: Avgin slaves.

Sigonians... The reputation--and sleazy men's curiosity--precedes him, and though he only has to get on his knees for the truly bold nowadays, he hasn't yet been able to make the ultimate gamble, pull the last string needed to finally gain his freedom: the freedom to live his life as he pleases--and to enact every ounce of vengeance he's been storing for decades like cards up his sleeves.

Until now.

Until an absolute madman shows up at the underground headquarters waving around an offer that no average person would possibly make: He wants to buy Aventurine and wed him.

(Because marrying a Sigonian thrall is a safe and sane thing that safe and sane people do.)

The offer is far too good to be trusted: A real marriage certificate but a perfectly fake marriage, a no-fault divorce once an adoption is finalized, and a guaranteed sponsor for his citizenship documents. A year or two of fake homemaking, this Veritas Ratio claims, and then Aventurine can walk away a completely free man, no strings--no chains--attached.

Well, Aventurine of the Myriad Stratagems has always held one skill dearer to his heart than any other: a crystal clear knowledge of when to fold--and when to go all in.

(...Problem 4: Amber Lord help him, Aventurine's new husband is the most irritating man in the entire universe.)

Alas, if only that was their biggest problem. Somewhere between learning to navigate the citizenship process, the adoption process, a truly unacceptable level of systemic racism, and also, increasingly, each other, Ratio and Aventurine discover that the circumstances of their lives might be far more entangled than they ever could have imagined from the beginning, and the same shadowy parties that profited off Aventurine's existence might have a vested interest in parting Ratio from valuable research secrets--permanently.

While struggling to maintain a charming and loving facade and struggling not to kill each other behind the scenes, Aventurine and Ratio also end up having to out-roll and out-plan a particularly dangerous enemy; something they can really only do together.

Or, tl;dr: Dr. Ratio chooses the most efficient but most unhinged method of finding a husband that intelligence could possibly contrive, only to determine that marrying a guy whose track record for unexplained deaths matches his track record for card counting really is the encyclopedic opposite of "committed and stable." Ridiculously enough, the trouble they get into is almost entirely Ratio's fault, the only one who is remotely convincing in front of the Child Welfare Agency is Aventurine, and sometimes it turns out the guy you married for the library ends up being the guy you married for life.

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uglypastels · 1 year

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i have to say this, eddie love fucking you when you’re in a messy bun and your glasses almost falling down your nose. Chef’s kiss

Chef's kiss indeed and i hope this is ok, but this gave me major librarian!reader vibes, and I meant to make this pure filth, but as I started writing, I realised that I adore these two wholeheartedly, so please enjoy the fluff fest around it.

warnings: 18+ only MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. p in v sex. sex in a public place. unprotected sex (dzon't dzo it). swearing.

masterlist // inbox //

Working in the Hawkins Town Library, you got to be in the presence of almost everybody who lived there, from the youngest readers to the eldest. Everyone needed books for one reason or another, let it be homework research, recipes or just some entertainment. There were the quiet readers who settled themselves somewhere in a corner to spend the rest of the day with their noses in between the pages; the ones who search for hours for the one book they had their mind set on the moment they walked in; the ones that, for whatever reason, forget to stay silent. There were fans of fantasy as well as historical non-fiction, philosophy and romance. There was a place for everybody here.

With such a variety in patrons, it was only natural you grew to have favourites. Some might be more self-explanatory than others. Of course, your heart doubled when Julie came in with her daughter, Sandy [who just turned six!], to pick out a new book every few weeks. Or old man Farrell who already knew all the facts in the books he checked out and was more than happy to share with you.

It could come to most people as a shock then that the person you looked forward to seeing the most was none other than Eddie Munson.

Surprisingly, he could be the definition of the perfect library patron. Besides the fact that he had never been late with book returns, when you started working there, the first few times Eddie came by, he scared you to death—so quiet was he, sneaking around the aisles and up to the counter to check his stacks of books out.

‘Sorry, didn’t mean to scare ya there, sweetheart,’ he said as he put the books on the desk.

‘It’s alright.’ You started picking up books from the pile, stamping in the date on the inside sheet. ‘Might have to consider getting a bell.’ You smiled, ‘that way I could hear you coming.’

‘Hmm, too bad I don’t have a bell.’ Eddie clicked his tongue but reached into one of his pockets, ‘but… would these do?’ He pulled out a handful of thin metal chains. They rattle around.

‘Why do you have those in your pocket?’ You asked curiously as you gave him back the books.

‘Always have them on me– I mean, on my jeans, but I take them off when I’m hear. Don’t want to disturb anyone.’ And with that, he gave you a shy little smile that made your heart melt.

‘That is, actually, really sweet of you.’ If only more people were so considerate. ‘Thank you.’

‘Yeah, well, I have my moments.’ He shrugged nonchalantly. ‘I’ll see you around.’

‘See ya.’ You waved as he walked away, barely able to contain the smile on your face that the metalhead had caused.

Not a lot changed since that day, but your and Eddie’s conversations did begin to grow. You’d keep on talking while you checked out his books, sometimes for so long that another patron would have to interrupt to get their books. Then, Eddie would pop by your desk to ask for the location of some particular book— one you had never heard of, in all honesty, but he probably easily could have found it if he bothered to look through the cards.

‘Excuse me, sweetheart,’ he’d clear his throat, ‘do you have any idea where I could find Carrots Love Tomatoes?’

‘Sorry?’ You must have misheard the title.

‘Carrots Love Tomatoes: Secrets of Companion Planting for Successful Gardening. It’s for my uncle.’ Eddie would clarify, reading the title out from a scrap of paper he had scribbled on.

‘Right. Do you know who it’s by, perchance?’

‘I’m surprised you don’t.’ He reread the paper. ‘Louise Riotte– shit, I’m definitely mispronouncing that.’ He quickly spelt it out for you.

Well, you had to admit, you weren’t personally familiar with Miss Riotte’s work, but you knew this library inside-out and told Eddie to follow you into the section you thought it most likely to be. The non-fiction section was off in the corner of the library, with only rectangular windows blocks near the ceiling, letting in barely any daylight. The light was, instead, coming from the lamps above you; they flickered and buzzed on the off-moments.

Eddie stayed a step behind you as you navigated through the shelves, muttering the alphabet to yourself repeatedly as you tried to find the RI– shelf. Once you finally found it, you realised it was on the top of the bookcase, where you couldn’t reach it.

‘It’s up there.’ You pointed, thinking that maybe Eddie would just get it himself now. But instead, Eddie offered to pick you up. A bit flustered, you accepted the offer and tried to ignore the feeling of his hands on your hips, the way his rings dug into your soft skin. He picked you up, and you grabbed the book quickly. Once back down on the ground again, you handed it over to him. Eddie thanked you with a large smile as he looked at the book.

He frowned.

‘Something wrong?’ You asked.

‘No, no, it’s all good, thanks. It’s just that…I don’t know…’ He looked at the book a bit longer. ‘Oh, you know what? I think I must have read it wrong.’ He looked down at the scrap of paper again. ‘...yeah. That definitely says Catcher in the Rye. Well, thank you anyway, sweetheart. Really ‘preciate it.’

‘You’re an idiot, Eddie Munson.’ You laughed.

‘Uhm, I’ll have you know,’ he leaned against the bookcase by your side, ‘that this had actually all been an act of sheer brilliance.’

‘Oh?’ You were leaning against it, too, your shoulders almost touching.

‘Yes. I would say that the way I got you here with me, away from all those people, is MacGyver-level brilliance.’

‘Don’t you think it might have been easier to just… I don’t know, just ask me to meet you here.’ You would have been going on a break soon anyway.

Eddie grinned as he leaned forward to you, ‘Now, what would be the fun in that?’ You could feel his breath on you. The scent of excessive bubblegum chewing greeted you.

‘Fair enough,’ you tried to act cool, ignoring the hot flashes he was causing all over your body. ‘So, why did you want me to come out here? What couldn’t wait until my lunch break, Munson?’

‘Just wanted to say how cute you looked today.’ Eddie smiled, then, as if he remembered something– ‘Oh, and this–’ he leaned in, cupping your face in his hand, kissing you softly.

So, perhaps, some things had changed over time. Smalltalk and jokes at the front desk turned into stolen kisses and hushed laughter in the dark corners of the library. Just as with everything around, Eddie was gentle and soft. His grip on you was there for support, to make you feel how much he wanted you near him.

You pulled away with a small gasp, chest-beating fast, eyes fluttering open.

‘But I suppose I could have waited with that.’ Eddie said afterwards, his hand still on your cheek.

‘I’m glad you didn’t.’ Your voice was hushed, but you kissed Eddie deeply instead of breathing in the air you needed. You pulled at his shirt to bring him closer, and his other hand reached for your waist, tugging at the hem of your shirt.

‘You should probably get back,’ he muttered between kisses.

‘Probably,’ you replied. Neither of you meant any of it, and you both knew it. You had no idea why you only saw each other at the library. Maybe because you always knew to find each other here; it was a certainty. Outside, it would be a mere coincidence to bump into Eddie. Here, you knew he would be here every week.

Maybe because it felt like a haven for both of you and it felt like a different reality—an escape from the real world. But it was precisely this that made everything else so fragile. Who knew what it would be like outside of these bookshelves? You didn’t want to know, so why risk it? What you had now, it was an unspoken agreement. One you both were more than happy with. It was special—a rarity.

Everything- the kiss, the hold, the emotions, the heat- all intensified the longer you kept going. It was getting messy and rough. Eddie had locked you in between him and the bookcase. You could feel him all over you. His hair tickling your face, his cold rings on your skin, his clothes pressing into you, his— fuck, he was huge. You could feel him against your thigh, no hiding it.

‘Fuck, I’ve been thinking about this the whole week.’ He breathed against your neck. ‘Haven’t stopped thinking about you.’ You would have told him the same if you could form an entire sentence. It was hard to concentrate daily when you had the memory of his touch plague you every day, and everything around you at your job was a heavy reminder.

‘Need… I need you, Eddie,’ you gasped out as he kissed your neck, right on the spot that made your knees go weak. ‘Please.’

‘Hmm, need you too, sweetheart.’ He was roaming his hand over your bare thigh underneath your skirt. Sometimes you wondered if anyone around had noticed that you really only wore them on days of Eddie’s library visits. Perhaps Eddie hadn’t picked up on that specifically, but he certainly enjoyed your style. ‘Drive my fucking wild in these short skirts of yours.’ The words rolled out of his mouth as he began unzipping his jeans. ‘Look so fucking good.’

‘Thank you,’ you moaned, giggling about how giddy you felt that he was complimenting you while preparing to thrust his dick in you. It was all so silly, so stupid. You were doing something incredibly risky, most likely illegal, but you couldn’t care one bit. All you could think about was how good he made you feel. How happy you felt with him.

‘C’mere,’ Eddie groaned, pulling you up by your thighs, holding you against the shelves. Luckily, they were pretty sturdy, bolted to the ground, so his force pushing you against them barely mattered. On you, however, it was another story.

‘Oh, fuck,’ you whimpered, trying to stay quiet at the feeling of him inside you. After letting you adjust quickly, he started thrusting in you hard and deep. The way he was moving against you, it made your whole body shake. You could feel your glasses slip down your nose. In the haze of it all, you had forgotten to take them off but were about to do so– when Eddie interrupted.

‘No, keep them on.’ He kissed your cheek.

‘Why?’ you didn’t see a reason for them.

‘Want you to see me fucking you.’ His smile was airy. ‘Besides, it’s hot as shit. The way you get so messy for me. And your hair,’ he punctuated each sentence with a deep thrust. One of his hands brushed some of your hair out of your face, ‘I wish I could take a picture of you right now. Would cum to it like every day.’

‘Gross.’ You joked, and in return, Eddie grazed his teeth over your collarbone, nipping at your skin slightly.

‘Calling me gross as if you’re not getting fucked in the middle of the library.’ Eddie’s smile was contagious. As he continued, your glasses were falling again, but he quickly pushed them back over the bridge of your nose. ‘You’re fucking filthy, sweetheart.’

‘I’m–’ you gasped as he went deeper.

‘Yeah, baby?’

‘I’m– I’m close, Eddie.’ You tried to whisper as best as you could, biting down on any noises that could be heard from afar.

‘Mmm, I know, you’re so tight. So perfect.’ he moaned through his last hard thrusts. You could feel your climax coming, knew how it would come, and quickly hid your face in the nape of his neck to muffle your scream of pleasure as it washed over you. Eddie rode it out with you, only moments behind.

He held you briefly, letting you come down and stabilise your breathing. You smiled at eachother sheepishly and kissed deeply once more. There was nothing else to say.

Eddie pulled out, the emptiness hitting you immensely. It was a strange sensation, and you still didn’t feel quite yourself as your feet touched the ground again. But Eddie’s hands stayed on you for stability.

‘You’re a dream, sweetheart. Just… unbelievable.’

Eddie brushed the loose strands of hair from your face again while you readjusted your glasses. There was nothing else to say.

Now came the awkward part where you timed your exit from the aisle and hid the guilty sex-glow look on your face.

It was a slow day at the library, so no one awaited you at the front desk. You took your place and tried to shake off all your emotions, and it worked for the most part, except for the giant smile. That you just could not get rid of.

It was still there when Eddie returned to you twenty minutes later, now accompanied by a new stack of books.

‘Found everything you were looking for?’ You asked as you took the books from him.

‘That and more.’ He leaned his elbows on the wood, grinning like an idiot. You had to tell yourself not to look at him, or you would get lost in those big brown eyes.

‘I’m happy to hear that.’ You stamped the date into all the books and returned them to Eddie. ‘Here you go.’

‘Thanks, sweetheart.’ Eddie grabbed them under his arm. ‘Same time next week?’ He winked. Once, the words really were only meant for this little exchange. That had been all you were looking forward to—the small chat at the desk. Back then, you would have never imagined the things you would get up to with the metalhead in the barely visited sections of the library.

‘See you, Eddie.’ You shook your head, still smiling, of course. And that was that. There was nothing else to say.

At least, there wasn’t before. All those other times, that really would have been it. Eddie would have walked away, and you would have watched him do so while already awaiting his comeback. Yet this time…

This time, Eddie stayed in his place.

‘Can I… help you with anything else?’ You raised a brow.

‘Uhh–’ Eddie cleared his throat. ‘Yes. Yes, you could. See if I have these… these two tickets for this thing— a concert… and see, I have no idea what to do with this second one, so maybe you could help me with that.’ He spoke fast and like he was stumbling over an uneven pavement instead of words, but you followed it nonetheless.

‘Concert?’ You asked.

‘Yes.’ He expanded with the name of a band you had never heard of before. ‘This weekend.’

You thought for a moment, or at least pretended to, as you already knew your answer. ‘I might have a friend who would be interested in taking that ticket off you.’

‘Any chance this friend of yours wears cute glasses, short skirts and works at my favourite spot in the city?’

‘She just might.’ You bit the inside of your cheek.

‘Then it’s deal, sweetheart,’ Eddie slammed his hand on the table in excitement, then immediately cringed at the noise he made. That same noise seemed to have awakened a quick realisation in him: ‘Wait, we were talking about you, right?’

‘Yes, Eddie. I would love to go to the concert with you.’ You rolled your eyes at the needed clarification.

‘Cool, just checking. Great.’ he started walking away now. ‘Great. I’ll pick you up– wait; I don’t even know where you live.’

‘You can pick me up here.’

‘Do you live at the library?’ he asked quickly, and you were sure he was being serious.

‘No, Eddie, I do not, but I work weekends too. But you can bring me back to my place afterwards. Stay the night, maybe?’ Was that too much too quickly? You started to panic for a second, thinking you took it too far, but then Eddie replied, repeating his previous words.

‘It’s a deal, sweetheart.’

the end

thank you so much for reading!! please consider supporting with comments and reblogs <3 (maybe leave a review??) I would love to hear your thoughts

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florenceafternoon · 27 days

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━。゜✿ jily fic recommendations ✿ ゜。━

Some more AUs I've been loving. I'm trying to alternate between AU and canon verse rec lists so bear with me. Remember that if you like a fic you should definitely let the author know as such.

For reference, anything in italics is taken from the summaries on ao3.

theogony by @clare-with-no-i

The trip that Lily Evans expects to go on is the annual pre-dissertation jaunt to Athens with the rest of her Classical Civilizations PhD program. The trip she does not expect to go on is to 479 BCE, right on the cusp of one of the most important battles in the Greco-Persian war. Now, she has to navigate antiquity as she tries to find her way back to the 21st Century, God—or gods—help her.

James wants to win this war. No, James needs to win this war. He is a man of honor and duty, and even if it means dying a gruesome, bloody death, he will go down in history as one of Athens's great warriors. He will suffer no distractions; not even beautiful ones who speak strangely and refuse to listen to his orders.

-- OR: The Outlander-Meets-Ancient-Greece Jily AU that no one asked for Maya dreams of.

I can't believe it took me this long to read this fic but OH MY GOD!! Clare's writing is phenomenal, I've known this for a while now, but THE DEDICATION TO HISTORICAL ACCURACY, I'm so impressed. If only I could put even half that amount of effort into my major essays for school. EVERYONE GO READ THIS NOW

Sweathearts' Special by @tinyluminaryzombie

What happens when your coffee shop nemesis, asks you to pretend to be a couple?

Or "I’ve been staring at the stupid cupcakes for the past hour, and they look way too good. Anyways, would you be willing to join forces and pretend to be together for the free cupcake and coffee?”

Welcome to Pettyville by @women-inthe-sequel

When Lily Evans accidentally sends a text to the wrong number, she isn’t expecting to find the right person behind it. She can’t stop talking to Prongs. The only thing is, Prongs can’t stop talking about the girl in his class. What could go wrong, other than the number?

A love square but it's just the same two idiots

Tall Dark and Glasses by @jamesunderwater

Tall Dark and Glasses (or TDG as he is more affectionately known) is the mysterious, painfully good-looking stranger who has been frequenting Lily's favourite coffee shop for months now. But despite having an embarrassing acronym for him, Lily, a burned-out STEM major, is too comfortable being a wallflower to go up to him herself. Thank god for playing cards, I guess.

coffee shops and copious amounts of sugar by @mystinkysocks

James decides to finally start revising, the coffee shop he attends introduces him to someone new!

As someone who spends an ungodly amount of time studying in public (at cafés and libraries), all I dream of is to one day live out my very own coffee shop AU

Unlicenced by @ohmygodshesinsane

Lily Evans begrudgingly agrees to get in the car with classmate and sometime-foe James Potter and his not-quite-earned P-plates after a particularly rubbish day.

Drop-Off also by @/ ohmygodshesinsane

James Potter takes Lily Evans home, and wants to make something clear.

Disclaimer that they’re Australian in this AU. You guys don't understand how much Lily Evans means to me. I want to give her a hug.

pretty, pretty boy by rosiemary0 (on ao3)

Pretty face, with golden brown eyes and strong cheekbones (one of which is adorned with a smudge of charcoal). Pretty hands—very, very pretty hands, Lily’s thoughts interject—which hold a jar each, one with water and the other paintbrushes.

Or the one where James is an artist and Lily hates socialising.

I'll Manage by @kaymardsa

James and Lily fall in love during the war.

In which Lily runs a refugee camp and James is an ex-sniper

I can't remember if I've recommended this fic already but again I recently re-read it and wanted to share

'Tis the Fucking Season by @thequibblah

Six-year absences. Yearly photograph burnings (figuratively). Low-cut tops. Two nosebleeds. Little red notebooks. The Past, with a capital P. The desire to pour your heart out to strangers (maybe pathologically). The desire to do unspeakably bad things to one James Potter. These are the ingredients that make up Lily Evans's holiday season.

Shelby the cabbie is in for a fucking ride.

I have been searching for this fic for two months and nearly gave up. An absolute classic that everyone should read!!

Two's a Crowd also by @/ thequibblah

Regency AU in which "the only thing Lily Evans can share with the Earl of Devon is a healthy dose of mutual dislike."

In Search of Something More by @kay-elle-cee

In the sunlit garden of her sister’s home, Lord Potter had promised Lily a life of her own design, with minimal expectations—her presence at community events, companionship, and an heir. As the two stumble into the routine of marriage and work to make a life together at Stinchcombe Hall, unsolicited feelings provoke each to start wondering if this is merely a marriage…or if it could be something more.

No, I will not shut up about this fic. Anything that Kelsey writes is bound to be amazing but this one holds a special place in my heart. Note that this is an ongoing fic though. I tend to recommend completed works but this one is too good not to include.

Pinkest Bluestocking of the Ton by @wearingaberetinparis

Dearest Reader, the ton are abuzz with the latest gossip, and so it is my honour to impart to you the news that the Duke of Peverell has returned to London at last! A year after setting off on his tour of Europe, Lady Peverell's son has returned and rumour has it that his mother is preparing for the most joyous of occasions: a late summer wedding that sees her son wed the next Duchess of Peverell. It is my sincere hope that you have stored a bottle of wine for this most delightful of upcoming events for if ever there were a more determined mama, this writer is Icarus and this society paper has been scorched for flying too close to the sun.

A Jily Regency Romance inspired by Shondaland's "Bridgerton".

Again this is an ongoing fic, but it's too good not to include in this rec list! I haven’t caught up with all the chapters yet but I love the story so far!

A Heart of Coal also by @/ wearingaberetinparis

They say fortune favours the bold, yet Lily Evans was given her death sentence at seventeen. As soon as midnight strikes on the eve of her eighteenth birthday, her heart will turn to coal. Gryffindor knight James Potter, however, is the last to accept such a fate. For while Lily Evans’ curse foretells her death, his foreshadows a life without his unrequited true love at his side.

Fairytale AU in which the love is requited they're just idiots

Three Lemons and a Dragon by @thelighthousestale

Once upon a time, there lived a Prince named James who had to save his father's Kingdom by getting married. One day an older woman gifts him three lemons that will lead him to his true love.

Dillweed in a Fancy Metal Can by @eastwindmlk

When Lily gets dragged to a Renaissance Faire, she reluctantly agreed to go to the jousting event where she is pulled into the show against her will, or is it?

Lily represents me

Queen Foxtail also by @/ eastwindmlk

Once Upon A Time...

There was an arrogant prince who turned down every suitable match and drove his parents to do something drastic. Marry him off to the next merchant that steps through their gates.

across the universe by rcdwings (on ao3)

“So, you’re saying that in these other worlds, James Potter and Lily Evans exist, too?”

She hadn’t expected to hear that, hadn’t even thought about it that way. She was too busy thinking about if in those other worlds, she and her friends could be seventeen and free instead of the war torn teenagers they were. Now that he’d put it that way, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander.

“I would assume so,” she swallowed. “Not sure what we would be like, though.”

A beat, then a soft hum. “Anything,” he smiled at her, “There are countless worlds, right? We could be anything.”

only love can hurt like this by @fireblts

Lily doesn’t quite know everything, but it feels pretty close.

The main thing she still doesn’t get is soulmates. Love doesn’t seem like something that should be painful. Or rather, love seems like it’s painful enough on its own without any help.

Soulmate AU - whenever your soulmate is hurt or in pain, you can feel it too.

Soulmate AUs are my comfort genre of fics. I haven't been feeling to well lately and rediscovering this fic was a delight

The Librarian of Hogsmeade Village by @ohmygodshesinsane

Lily's work as a librarian in the small village of Hogsmeade has kept her occupied for the past six years, forever keeping the wheels of the town on the track. As the holidays approach, she prepares to settle in with a nice mug of tea and a well-thumbed old book. When a new resident and his son arrive at her weekly story-reading, with cheeky smiles and big hearts, those plans are tossed out the window in favour of chasing love, for once - not escaping it.

Lily living the cozy life of my dreams. I think it's well known by now that I love reading about single parents and well James with his baby boy always puts a smile on my face.

Spitting Image by @charmsandtealeaves

James Potter always knew he wanted to build a family, he just hadn’t found the right person to build it with - yet. Freezing his sperm at Gringotts Sperm Bank was a no-brainer really. He’d have children when he found the right person, and now he had an insurance policy. Then Lily Evans walked into his place of work with her son - the spitting image of him.

linking this art that the talented @constancezin drew inspired by this fic

Every time I see that Ray has updated, reading the new chapter becomes the highlight of my day

The Stag Prince Across The Sea also by @/ charmsandtealeaves

The realm of Hogwarts had lived for decades in a carefully negotiated harmony between the leaders of the four clans. However, when the time came for son to marry daughter, the Slytherin King refused to offer his daughter's hand to any of the other grand houses’ suitors. As the Slytherin King departed the shore, bound for the ship that would allow him to escape across the Green Sea, he cast a curse on the great families.

“Let ye be marked. Marred by tooth, hoof, and claw. May your sons never be fit for any bride!”

Slytherin invoked an ancient magic, which transformed each family's eldest son into creatures under the light of the full moon. The Kings searched far and wide for a cure to no avail while trying to keep secret the wrong that had been done to them. Years passed and with them grew a sense of unrest, a kingdom on the precipice of collapse...

what love is, I think by @potterandevans-blog-blog

It's James Potter's birthday, his nineteenth to be exact. Some people, if they're lucky, find a tattoo on their back on their nineteenth birthday, a tattoo that can help them discover their soulmate. And if the antlers on his back are anything to go by, James might just have a soulmate of his own out there, somewhere.

oil be there for you by @abby10fanfic

Texting/Social Media AU: Lily and James haven't spoken for 2 years. But that's all about to change thanks to Peter and his involvement in an essential oil pyramid scheme. Featuring boss babes, toxin-free lifestyles, binding contracts, and a very oily journey.

#if you're like me and check the jily fic tag nearly every morning you've probably read most of these already #but I just wanted to share my recent favourites #lily evans #james potter #jily #jple #james x lily #lily x james #jily fic rec

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punkpandapatrixk · 1 year

Text

☕️Soul Story with Your Divine Counterpart ♦︎ Timeless Pick A Card

A long, long, long time ago, in the harmonic realms of Pure Bliss, there was nothing but Dharma. Bored as whoa from a lack of strife, our Souls began to yearn for Drama. In the theatre of the Universe, Game Masters joined forces to create the most hyper-realistic Game of Polarity—of opposites and contrasts. We were told, we would understand Unity better if we could master Duality.

Divine Pairs were invited for the launch of the Game as the unbreakable bond between them was deemed the most powerful, enough to withstand the chaotic nature of Duality and Polarity. In time, we all jumped into the Game expecting all kinds of immersive experiences of playing knaves and heroes, destroyers and builders, enemies and lovers, et cetera, et cetera.

In the beginning, we played amongst many of our own Kind but eventually met those from other harmonics who had later been invited to the Game, too. In a world of illusions… we were dreaming all kinds of events and adventures with our cosmic avatars, and in time, all kinds of storylines intertwined to weave an even bigger cosmic narrative.

We all played for so long we were beginning to forget our true form. Many of us could no longer recognise each other’s Divine Counterparts. A multitude of shape-shifting had caused a distortion in reconnecting to our Original Memory. The game world had now become a second Reality.

🎧Alone Again, Wonderful World by Plastic Tree

🎧I Love You by Off Course

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

There is a super special behind-the-story for this PAC on Patreon. If you’re already subscribed, don’t forget to check the full post ^o^v

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 1 – Finally, Happily Ever After with You♥︎

MOVIE: Howl’s Moving Castle (2004)

your Home World – Page of Swords

I have a feeling your Home World (at least one of them that is significant in your current stage of soul evolution) was a relatively new world. You’ve come from a civilisation that prized intellectual pursuits more than anything. Your Kind loved to study; you enjoyed improving your environment and society. Researching plants—understanding them and making chemicals and potions with them—was a pastime of your people. You were working to understand your Planet.

Your Home World had many large, expansive libraries of all the things your people had come to learn. Many people loved to visit the library and read and just have fun studying. You were such big-brained folks. There was no school like we know on Earth. There were academies and laboratories for children to partake in research and new inventions. The weather on your Home World was always pleasantly sunny and you could see buildings that are similar to hot houses on Earth. There were gardens and open fields, of course. Vegs and herbs were your main interest and food was aplenty.

People had roles in society but nobody had any semblance of a concept of what we call ‘jobs’ on Earth. People didn’t work for money. People lived with the joy of knowing that they were alive and that the Planet had provided for them. Your people loved the Planet so much—you appreciated and cherished this new world you were beginning to understand. But… this also meant you didn’t have any concept of conflict, power struggle, and war… You didn’t have a military—never crossed your mind the necessity for such a thing.

And so, when warmongering space invaders attacked your Home World you couldn’t protect yourself.

a promise before birth – 4 of Swords Rx

From the moment the space invaders arrived, it was clear that there was no way your civilisation could stand a chance against the enemy’s warships. The imbalance of military power was too overbearing. You didn’t even have an army, not even a fighter. All you could do was try your best to evacuate your people and escape the Planet. Homes and gardens were destroyed and families were torn apart. Friends and lovers calling out names of lost loved ones. Sisters and mothers shielding children and escaping. Brothers and fathers staying behind to buy time.

This horror was etched in your Soul Memory for a long time. Your heartbreak became a default setting when you chose to be born on Earth. As if, you’d forgotten how it feels like to have peace. But you craved it from the deepest unseen well of your subconscious, and at one point in your soul evolution, you prayed to Infinite Intelligence. You prayed that you could be saved from the looping horror of being trapped in the same scenario of sorrows. You had come to resent the Game.

‘Please, salvage my heart from betrayals, isolation and loneliness.’ Infinite Intelligence heard your plea and whispered: ‘If you could remember your Divine Counterpart, they will remember you, too, and you will be calling out for one another. If you could remember your true form, you will remember what your Divine Counterpart feels (looks) like. And all will be fine in all of the worlds again when you meet.’ And you fell back into slumber to find yourself awake on Earth.

finding each other – 5 of Swords Rx

Earth is a world that is just as war-torn as your Home World, if not a lot worse out here. Being born into a world so reminiscent of all your traumas, navigating Life here has not been easy. As if Infinite Intelligence had played a cruel joke on you. But the truth is, Earth is the perfect place for you right now because by being here you resolve your traumas a lot faster than if you had been born somewhere comparatively better. You are in the midst of recovering from bad dreams of lives lost in wars.

Did it cross your mind that your Divine Counterpart has also been doing the same? You’re not alone. You’re working really hard to purify yourself from all of these bad dreams, bad memories, all so you wouldn’t mistakenly destroy each other when you meet. Infinite Intelligence had arranged for you to face your traumas head on so you wouldn’t have to show your ugly healing to each other. That scenario isn’t for you. Isn’t it so graceful?

Although it’s hard to face your challenges feeling like you’re all alone in the wild wide world, trust me, it’s better to have those quarrels and separations with people who mean little. I can hear a soft voice from the aether saying: ‘You’re… the only reason I’m still breathing… We will meet. When I’m good, I can make everything in your world good!’ So confident. So loving, indeed.

TURNING THE PAGES🔻💜

story behind your Union – Gold Physician (Hippocrates)

the rest of your days – Priestess of Ambition

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 2 – True Calm That Comes Only After the Storms

MOVIE: Grave of the Fireflies & My Neighbor Totoro (both 1988)

your Home World – 8 of Cups

Quite similar to Pile 1, you still carry deep sadness and heavy regrets in your heart that are, truthfully, only remnants of memories from your Home World. Your Home World was quite advanced technologically. Your civilisation depended on the Masculine energy—Yang energy. Societies were run on varying degrees of strictness but the modus operandi was clear: the masculine form and structural ways of running things were favoured.

Obviously, not everybody was happy about that though for a long time, peace was maintained. However, influences from visitors and ambassadors from other civilisations (by comparison they were freer; more fluid) eventually seeped into the consciousness of the main populace, and in time, underground rebellion groups were formed. These alliances were made amongst multiple races of beings that felt they weren’t accepted (or respected enough) by the main races.

Friction began to tear apart the establishment and government officials tried their utmost to crack down dissents. Many went to prison or got killed in the numerous conflicts that were becoming a plague in your Home World. In a last attempt to preserve the codes of freedom, many elders told their young warriors to flee and find refuge in other Worlds that were, hopefully, more balanced in their operation of Yin and Yang.

a promise before birth – 3 of Cups

You left your Home World carrying a promise to come back and make everything better after you’ve learnt enough about the ways of other Worlds. Tears were inevitable but the determination in your heart was solid. You were a new legion of Ambassadors from your own Home World. You didn’t really want to think of yourselves as refugees, after all, many of your Soul Family members were still living alright in your Home World though things were just… a little too unpleasantly unjust.

When you departed your Home World, you created a mirror image of yourself to accompany you across the Multiverse—a divinely ordained Counterpart. This was possible by the grace of the Infinite Intelligence, of course. In the beginning, you went to the same places and learnt similar things. Over time, your understanding of each other’s capabilities became clearer and, with confidence, you decided you would travel separately from now on.

You had this unbreakable bond and an immense capacity for telepathy, so you weren’t the slightest bit worried about losing contact with your Counterpart. You believed that it would be just as easy to call upon each other and reunite as you deemed fit. Alas, your travels brought you to Earth, finally, and things over here were just… slightly over-the-top chaotic for even you to handle. The level of evil on this new World was… NEXT LEVEL.

finding each other – 7 of Pentacles Rx

Crash landing on Earth! Coming here felt like a major accident. Your whole world upside down. The reason being something related to betrayal trauma. To find a World that’s even more polarised than your own; to see a World that operates on the highest level of toxic masculinity; to be in a World this corrupted by its own leaders; needless to say the whole being born thing was traumatising.

The shocks of being born on Earth made it difficult to reconnect with the essence of who you are on a Soul level. Thus you forgot how to contact your Divine Counterpart. You’ve felt like you have so little guidance living Life on Earth. But deep in your psyche, you’ve always known you’re here for something greater than the mundane. You know you don’t belong to this Earth. You’re here on a mission. You want to build something with someone… Someone dear, but you can’t remember.

Can you believe that you and your Divine Counterpart are meant to inspire the dissolution of anger? Yes, this World so deep in the clutches of aggression. You are special Souls who have been ordained to meet on Earth when the time is right to help inspire peace—after all, it is what you seek and Infinite Intelligence is arranging every couple’s rendezvous in the most magnificently mysterious ways. I think your finding each other is just gonna happen naturally by virtue of matching vibrations. So~ Keep focusing on your Life’s mission and just like that~ BOOM! There they are.

TURNING THE PAGES🔻💚

story behind your Union – Green Historian (Herodotus)

the rest of your days – Priestess of Inspiration

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

Pile 3 – ‘Kiss You Better; I’m Your Only Other’

MOVIE: Princess Mononoke (1997)

your Home World – 6 of Wands

The Home World that’s currently significant in your soul evolution was a world of glory and magnificence. Your Home World looked nothing like what we know of abundance and celebration on Earth; it was such a rich and happy World. It emanated so much pink, gold, blue, turquoise and soft violet. Back in your Home World, people didn’t even look… humanoid, per se. Your Home World was… fluid. It was a different type of consciousness. Life itself was fluid. Existence was simply flowing with the sweet symphony of the Cosmos.

Your Home World operated on the basis of Love. People were very kind and jolly most of the time. Your people didn’t really understand this whole concept of non-Love. Suffering and terror… what the heck are those? Manipulation and lies… for what? Taking advantage of someone else, murder and theft… but… why? All of those concepts were so foreign yet so fascinating to your people.

When you heard that Earth needed some high-vibe volunteers to ‘raise her vibrations’, actually, not that many people from your Home World were interested LMAO The risks of being separated and forgetting Love sounded not worth a good dime. Your World was so peaceful, loving and fulfilling. But the call from Earth felt a little too urgent! So… Some curious and courageous Souls finally decided to take a test drive. Just a preview. It couldn’t be that bad, you thought.

a promise before birth – King of Wands

With gleeful optimism, you promised people back Home that you would be back with grand stories! Off you and your Soul Mates went to a big academy (on another World) to study and prepare for a reincarnation on Earth. Yup, unlike the other Piles in which they couldn’t help but arrive on Earth, you chose to come here out of genuine curiosity. You were expecting dramatic fun!

You and your Divine Counterpart were giggling with anticipation as you prepared yourselves to dive into the Earth Matrix. You and your Divine Counterpart are powerful Souls; you were confident this Game would be between easy to medium difficulty, although you had been told Earth Game’s level of easy is the equivalent of extra hard anywhere else! Your optimism deafened you to that piece of information🤷🏻‍♀️

You kissed your Divine Counterpart and said, ‘I love you. Let’s find each other quickly in this Game. Let’s have fun and then go back to tell everyone what we’ve seen! It’ll be great!’ Your Divine Counterpart nodded in agreement and waved to all members of your Soul Family and they did the same. With great determination to serve your collective consciousness back Home, you dove into the illusions of Life on Earth🌎

finding each other – 5 of Pentacles

Arriving here, from the moment you were born as a child the world was already chaos. The reality of Earth was too shocking to bear alone. Who would’ve thought the density of Earth would cause you this much pain? Physically, emotionally, psychologically, spiritually, everythingally. You thought, ‘Damn, my training at the academy told me nothing, NOTHING, of this!’ Literally you didn’t expect Earth’s negative polarisation would be THIS fucked up.

For you’ve come from a world of nothing but Love, Life on Earth was soul-shattering to say the least. Many moments you’ve thought it impossible to go back to the frequencies of Love and you became dejected as fuck. But you’ve only forgotten that YOU are Love. You carry the memories of all your collective consciousness that supports your coming here. As long as you tap into this Love deep within yourself, so shall you be reconnected to the essence of who you are on a profound Soul level. There, as well, you will feel the heartbeat of your Divine Counterpart.

For you’ve come from Love, it’s as if your Divine Counterpart had left a piece of their Heart in yours so you never feel alone. You are both a complete whole carrying a piece of each other’s essence everywhere you go—a perfect personification of the Yin-Yang symbolism. You are literally inseparable and have never truly been separated. A piece of your Heart in theirs is always reminding them of their ultimate goal in this incarnation: to find each other, weave stories together, and infuse a piece of yourselves into the collective conscious of Mankind as a token of gratitude—for all the experiences.

TURNING THE PAGES🔻💛

story behind your Union – Red Astronomer (Johannes Kepler)

the rest of your days – Priestess of Illumination

Access full reading + cards on Patreon🌸

☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・. ☆♪°・.

[PAC Masterlist] [Part 1] [Part 3]

[Patreon] [Paid Readings]

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dragonmurray · 9 months

Text

Childish Games

Pairing - Loki x F Reader

In which a bet made amongst avengers junior agents leads you to finally confronting your feelings for Loki.

Warnings - smut

“What is it you want Price?�� You asked the young agent as you stood in the training room of the Avengers compound. You had just completed a round of training with a group of first years, looking to work their way up in to the field and join the ranks of full agents.

You were already there. Having excelled in all fields, you were now working with the Avengers and actively joining missions. You had quarters in the Tower and there was never any doubt that you belonged there.

“Actually it’s what I can do for you Agent. It hasn’t gone unnoticed you know” said the cocky agent. He stood next to you, arms folded across his chest, smirking down at you as you gathered the last of the equipment from the floor, ready to head home for the evening.

“Please get to your point faster Price, we all have places to be” you couldn’t wait to get back to the Tower. To sneak in to the library and catch a certain god reading. How you loved when he would read to you and tell stories of his youth. You had struck up quite a friendship. Though your heart ached for more.

“You are alone agent y/n, there’s no Mr Agent waiting for you at the tower. You never date. I bet it’s been years since you’ve been kissed. Let me change that” he gripped your arm pulling you upwards in an attempt to bring his mouth to yours. Before he could get close to your face his arm was twisted enough to bend, his legs buckling and an undignified scream escaping his lips.

“Touch me again Price and I will break you, limb by limb, molecule by molecule, until there is nothing left of you but ash and unkissable dust. Now tell me, what the hell are you doing?” You pressed him further into the cold stone floor of the training room, your knee in his spine.

Suddenly the doors to the training room flew open. Loki entered, dragging an equally terrified female trainee behind him.

“Ah, I see I am too late to rescue you Agent. Have you heard what the children are up to?” His voice dripping with malice, sending a shiver down your spine. Did nothing sound bad from his mouth?

You looked at him with confusion as you buried your feelings, once again.

“It seems they have a game being played, they each have avengers assigned to them to try and seduce into bed. This poor thing here, picked me. A clear mistake on her part. I would never lower myself to such a level”. He glared at the trainee behind him, pushing her over to her friend on the floor as you stood up. Price letting out a relived cry.

Loki’s words stung. You knew he was a God. A God couldn’t be with a mortal, why would he try.

“Spill it Price, tell me everything” you sighed. Moving to stand next to Loki, looking down at the two agents like disappointed teachers.

“It’s just a bit of fun, seeing how far we could get before the end of the year. We’ve only got 2 weeks left and you’re the only two left not to crack. You’ve never been seen with anyone so we figured we had to try” he whined rubbing his bruised arm, and ego.

“So this is all because we’re the only avengers not throwing ourselves around? Although I am surprised at Steve” you shrugged.

“He caved pretty quickly, Janine dressed up in a 40s uniform and he kissed her then cried, it was pretty sad actually” said the female agent, she looked down as she mumbled.

Loki stepped forward “I see. Well, we disappoint you then. And it’s off to bed for you two. Goodnight agents, we will leave this little failed operation between ourselves, for now” he glowered down at the two.

As he was talking, an idea was forming in your head. Slowly working it’s way to the surface.

“You know, we could end this now Loki. Take ourselves off the game cards” you said.

He slowly turned to you, his eyes shimmering with confusion.

“I mean, I don’t know about you but I don’t like being cornered by idiots. I also don’t like the reputation of never being kissed. Which isn’t true by the way” you glared at Price.

The two agents on the floor stood up, thinking they were about to win big and compete their score cards. But, before they could straighten, Loki took two strides across the room taking your face in his hands and bringing your mouths together.

You stumbled but his hand reached behind your back pressing you against him, hard. He tilted his head, his tongue asking permission to enter your mouth which you granted, still too shocked as your arms hung in the air unsure how to react.

As his tongue slid against yours, you melted. Your hands went to his chest, gripping his shirt. He moaned in to your mouth pulling you even closer to him. As if nothing was good enough, as if he needed to be one with you.

The two agents stood dumbfounded. As moans started to fill the room they made their hasty escape. Either way they had lost this round.

As the training room door slammed shut you pulled backwards gasping for breath and sanity.

“I… we… I mean..” you stuttered, with no idea what you were even trying to say.

Loki gave you a devilish smile. “Oh agent, I couldn’t agree more” he pulled you back to him slamming your lips together as you both gasped. Gripping each other and pulling at each other’s clothes.

He pushed you backwards until you hit the locker wall, instantly gripping your thighs to wrap them around his waist. You opened up for him, grinding on to him. Incoherent mumbles leaving your mouth.

“I had always pictured our first time being slow, meticulous on my part Agent, but I fear I am past the point of no return. I need to be inside you, now, I have already waited too long to show you how I feel” Loki growled into your ear as he placed kisses down your neck. Your head falling back in ecstasy.

“I didn’t hear a lot of that, my head is swimming. But if I’m correct, then take me Loki, now, please” you sighed.

A green glow worked it’s way across your bodies as your clothes melted away. His cock pressing against your dripping core as the barriers between you disappeared. You took his face in your hands forcing him to look into your eyes.

“Loki, I need you to know. To me you are always worthy. I will always chose you” overwhelmed with emotions you poured your heart out as a million fantasies finally came true.

Loki’s eyes blazed in to yours with so much emotion you couldn’t comprehend.

“Y/n. I have waited eternity for you, and I will spend eternity worshipping you”

With his declaration he pushed inside you. Both of your crying out in pleasure as he set a steady pace. You had never felt anything like this and could do nothing more than grip his shoulders as the pleasure built inside you.

He picked up the pace, burying his head in your shoulder. Kissing and biting as he speared in to you. You couldn’t hold it any longer, your orgasm slammed into you like a freight train and you screamed his name.

Loki gripped your hair to slam your mouths together as he emptied himself inside you. Both of your breaths mingling as you tried to steady your heart rates.

His forehead rested on yours as he slowly withdrew from you, setting your shaking legs on the ground but not letting you go incase you fell. The green glow clothes you both again and you held on to each other. Emotions whirling around you.

Doubt started to creep in. Was this all a heat of the moment scenario? Would he move on to the next conquest? Loki saw your eyes change and tilted your chin up to meet his eyes.

“Take my hand Agent. We are going to my chambers and we will not leave until I have worshipped every inch of your body and proved to you that you are mine” he kissed your hand and started walked towards the door pulling you with him.

A cracking sound filled the room as Tony’s voice came over the intercom “Does no one in this compound care about the cameras? My eyes are burned. Also I erased it, you’re welcome kids”

#loki smut #loki #loki god of mischief #loki laufeyson #loki odinson #loki x reader #loki of asgard #loki x you #loki x y/n

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mayajadewrites · 2 months

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Sweet Secret (Levi Ackerman x Reader)

Pairing: Levi Ackerman x F! Reader CEO Levi Ackerman coming in hot. I've been wanting to write a CEO Levi/Sugar daddy Levi story for a hot minute. Enjoy! Summary: You needed a job. Ackerman Inc was hiring for an in house assistant for none other than the CEO: Levi Ackerman. He's known to be essentially the worst to work with, you decide to take the job and take on the challenge that is Levi Ackerman. Will your relationship remain professional, or will their be monetary value added to the stakes? Or possibly even... love? ao3 Chapter Ten: Falling

The next morning you and Levi find yourself at the breakfast buffet, the warmth of the sun kissing your tanned skin. You have 3 more days in paradise and you're soaking up all the warmth while you can.

Since last night, Levi has been a bit softer with you. You woke up wrapped in his arms, feeling his heartbeat against your chest. You almost didn't want to get out of bed because of how peaceful he looked. You studied the dark circles under his eyes, thinking about how he probably doesn't sleep much. If he does, it's short lived.

"What did you want to do today?" Levi took a sip of his tea. You eyes scan down to his upper body - his chest dressed with a linen white shirt with two buttons undone.

"Hm..." You tap your chin with your index finger. "Can we look at the shops? I saw some cute trinkets there that I think my sister would love."

Levi nods as he dabs his lips with his napkin. "Tell me more about your sister."

"What about her do you want to know?" You tilt your head to the right. Levi has never really shown that much interest in your personal life, besides things that he already knew.

"Anything."

"Well, she's 18 and very independent." You take a sip of water. "She's always been rambunctious and causing trouble, but I'm always there to pick up the pieces. I've been taking care of her since she was 6."

"6? So that means you were 16?"

"Yeah. I... left my parents and took her with me."

"That must've been a lot for you."

"Some days I don't remember how we even survived, if I'm being honest. My only goal was to get Alexis a stable home. I finished high school and took college courses through computers at our library. We stayed at a shelter until I could find us a cheap apartment."

Levi is absorbing all of this information. His eyes never leave yours, making sure you know he's listening. "You're very strong." He paused and looked towards the water, the ocean air invading his nostrils. "I'm sorry you had to go through that."

"Nothing to be sorry about." You smile at Levi before pressing your lip gloss wand to your lips. Levi watches as you lather the clear, glittery substance on your pouty lips. His eyes wander to your curvy figure - your black sundress caressing every dip and curve on your body. "Did you enjoy breakfast?" You break his stare.

"It was... average. The tea could've been better."

"Is there a place that always makes your tea right?"

"Yeah. It's in Japan."

"Of course it is.

_________________________

"Levi, look at this!" You walk into one of the shops in the hotel. This hotel has a fucking mall inside of it, something you never thought you would've ever experienced. "They have vintage teacups!"

Levi put his hands in his pockets as he browsed the teacups, taking in all of the detail. You've never seen him so focused on something, so you're proud of yourself for bringing him in here. You watch him, feeling your heart beat a bit faster.

None of this is real.

This is a transaction.

Snap out of it.

"Do you see any that you want?" You bring yourself next to Levi. He glances down at you.

"I do. I'm having them sent to the house." Levi handed the cashier his black AMEX card. "I've only seen them in Japan."

"That's amazing." You smile at him. Your gazes catch each other and the both of you can feel your hearts skip a beat.

Levi clears his throat to break the tension that you're both feeling.

"Where to next?"

"I saw some cute bags over there." You point at a store across the way. You know Levi enjoys the luxuries of life, so why not indulge a little?

As you walk in the shop, Levi's large hand presses to the small of your break.

No affection outside of the bedroom, You remember him saying. You decide to test the limits- wrapping your arm around his bicep. His arms are a weakness of yours - the muscles look like they were carved by Greek Gods. Levi didn't move you, nor say anything.

"Aren't you two a beautiful couple?" The saleswoman said. "Are you looking for anything specific?"

"I like that bag." You point to a small, soft green structured bag thats in a display case. It was gold hardware, simple but so elegant. Levi nods in approval.

"We'll like that."

"We do free monogramming/engraving, did you want to do that?"

"Yes." Levi answered for you.

You raise your eyebrows as Levi walked toward the register. "You stay here."

As you wait, you watch Levi again. You feel your heartbeat quickening as his mouth moves when he speaks. You don't hear any words but you're engulfed in... him.

The slight tan in his skin, the way his shirt bellows over his muscles, the way his eyes are drawn to yours every other minute.

Is this what falling in love feels like?

Levi brings the bag over to you, smiling to himself.

"Why are you smiling?! What did you do!" You peek into the bag.

"Open it and see for yourself." Levi shoves his hands in his pockets.

You gently take the bag out of the bag, looking at the engraving that was done on the bag.

You see a simple L in the center below the straps. "L for Levi?" You smile at him.

"Do you like it?"

"I love it." You press the bag to your chest, unsure if this a moment where you should hug him.

"I'm glad." He nods. You put the bag back in it's bag, gazing into his eyes. You're both almost hypnotized by each other as your bodies get closer.

"Levi," You breath, almost feeling his nose on yours.

"Mm?" He whispers as he presses his hand to your hip.

"I thought you said no affection outside of the bedroom." Your big, doe eyes land on his.

"Today we can ignore that rule." He gently takes the bag from you as he pulls your body into his. His hand trails to your ass, giving it a squeeze as his face leans into yours.

Your lips touch and it feels like a fire has been lit inside of you. This isn't a frenzied kiss, nor is it a peck. Levi moves his lips with purpose, taking care of every inch of your mouth. He squeezes your ass again, massaging it gently after. You wrap your arms around his neck, fully letting yourself fall into him. He pulls away gently, kissing your lips, nose, cheek, and forehead before turning to be on your side.

You still feel the ghost of his kiss on your lips and you know you want, no need to feel that sensation again. Your core is already feeling needy as he takes your hand and laces his fingers with yours.

Levi leans down to your ear, pressing his lips against the shell of your ear. "You knew what you were doing with that sundress, hm?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." You giggle, pressing your hand to his forearm.

"If we weren't in public I would be-"

"Would be what?" You turn to him, pulling a hair behind your other ear. "Tell me what you want to do to me." You whisper, letting your lips hover against his as you turn to him.

"New rule." Levi pulled your hand as he started walking. "No dirty talk in public." He cleared his throat.

"Why?" You pick up your face as you look down and see exactly why that new rule has been enacted.

#levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi x reader #levi ackerman fanfiction #levi ackerman fanfic #levi ackerman smut #attack on titan #aot #levi ackerman attack on titan #levi ackerman x you #levi x you #ceo levi ackerman

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contentloadingandstuff · 1 year

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Lisa x Male!Reader Oneshot - Library Duty

CW: Male!Reader, not proofread. Just a silly and short fic.

“Tale of Winter, Tales of Winter, Tales of Winter…” You guide your finger along the bookshelf. “Oh! Here you are.”

You pull the dusty volume out, and give it a few rubs with the back of your hand. The cover is plain, only the three words written in golden font standing out from the washed-out green background.

You turn away and walk towards the stairs back to the top floor of the library. You jog up the steps, and you see two familiar figures behind the receptionist’s desk. Lumine and Paimon are writing something on the machine Lisa, now seated in the background and sipping tea ordered a while ago. They seem to be too absorbed to notice you standing in front of them. They look up at you simultaneously, and Paimon clears her throat.

“Hello, sir! Are you here to borrow, or return?” Her voice is just as squeaky as always.

“To borrow, specifically - to borrow this book.” You place the tome on the desk, looking over to Lisa. She sends you a wink.

Her mischievous smile is just begging you to do something amusing. Just as always. Hm, why not humor her a little?

“Do you have a library card here, sir?” Lumine asks.

“Hm? Oh, I don’t. But you got me interested… What are the benefits of having one?”

“You can borrow books for longer, and you have early access to new publications. Also, you automatically join Miss Lisa’s book club, and you can attend its gatherings on Saturdays at 7 PM.” The floating fairy almost sounds like a salesman. You smile.

“Then I would like to make one, please.”

“Alright… May I have some identification?” Lumine looks up at you.

You pat your pockets for a moment, before sighing theatrically.

“Sorry… I left it at home. Can I just tell you all you need to know from memory?”

“I suppose that can work, sir.” Lumine pulls out a fresh piece of paper, and hands it to Paimon. The creature pulls out a jet feather from the inkwell, and places it against the paper.

“Your name and surname, mister?”

“Grzegorz Brzęczyszczykiewicz.”

Both of them stop and look up at you in surprise.

“Brzęczyszczykiewicz.” You repeat, barely containing a laugh. “Grzegorz.”

Paimon’s mouth hangs slightly open, but she shakes her head and focuses again.

“Hm. I see.”

She puts the quill on the paper, clearing her throat.

“Gsh… gshe… psh… pshe… be… bshe…” Her small face turns and twists, steam nearly coming out from her ears due to how fast her brain cogs are working.

“Brzęczyszczykiewicz.” Lisa is covering her mouth with her gloved hand, her body tense from how hard she tries to keep quiet.

“Agh! Traveler!” She throws the feather on the table and crumbles up the paper. “I, um, I mean. Traveler?”

She turns to her companion.

“Can you write it on the typewriter, please? I’ll go and put those books back!” She motions to the bin of returns, and before Lumine can protest, the floating lavender melon is already gone.

Lumine sighs and rubs her forehead. She types a few words on the sheet before she shyly asks:

“Your name and surname, sir?”

“Grzegorz Brzęczyszczykiewicz.” You say it with pride and confidence.

“Grzh… How??”

“Grzegorz Brzęczyszczykiewicz.”

Lumine is sweating visibly. “Can you… Can you spell it out sir?”

“Sure thing. G-r-z-e-g-o-r-z B-r-z-ę-c-z-y-s-z-c-z-y-k-i-e-w-i-c-z.”

Muttering to herself, she punches in a very rough version of the word. When she finishes, a bright smile of satisfaction creeps up on her face. The girl looks up at you again.

“Where were you born, sir?”

“Chrząszczyżewoszyce, powiat Łękołody.”

Lumine’s arms fall limp, and her expression turns to one of defeat. She hides her face in her hands. All of a sudden, Lisa bursts into laughter. You join in with a chuckle, and Lumine looks up at you two in pure confusion.

Lisa gets up from her chair. She walks towards the desk, and bends over it. “Don’t worry cutie, we were just messing with you, right Y/N?”

“That’s right.” You lean closer to her, your noses just millimeters away from each other. “Y/N… I like how it sounds coming from your lips.”

Lisa smiles seductively, and moves her hand to gently lift up your chin. “Y/N. Y/N. Y/N. You like hearing that, don’t you, my dear?”’

“Mhm.” You look each other deep in the eyes.

Lumine, her face now beet-red, fakes a cough.

“Um… do you… still want that library card, sir?”

Thanks for reading!

#genshin impact #genshin #genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin x male reader #genshin impact x male reader #genshin impact fluff #genshin fluff #fluff #genshin impact lisa #lisa minici #lisa #lisa x reader #lisa x male reader #lisa x you #lisa x y/n #lisa fluff #crack?

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orqheuss · 4 months

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Even the iron still fears the rot PART 5

(Ominis Gaunt/Sebastian Sallow/GN!Reader ANGST)

This is definitely moving in a more "female rage" route...oops.

Parts: 1 2 3 4 5 6

Summary:

Sebastian mourns. Ominis dreams. You rage. A letter falls from the sky, bearing a single line of text, an ominous message, and a gift that sets your world ablaze. Let the games begin.

Word count: 6.6k

Tags: Self deprecating thoughts, actions similar to self-harm, mentions of torture, emetophobia, illness, infection, disassociation, arson, child abuse, verbal degradation regarding a physical disability, graphic depictions of injury, blood, nightmares, feminine rage (kind of. it's still mostly gender neutral)

Read at your own discretion

AN: Surprise! New part. There was already so much happening in this chapter, and I wanted the action to get its own spotlight. So, one more part. Sorry...

It had been a long flight back from Hogsmeade, probably the longest flight you had ever experienced. Tears clouded your vision as you flew, the small droplets following you like staccato music notes to your song of sorrow. You did not know how long you had stayed in that clearing, cradling a little black button against your chest as if it could tell you the secrets of the universe. Nothing could quell the anguish deep in your chest, throat hoarse from your wails and knees dirty, caked in mud and flecks of dried blood— the blood of your best friends. All you could think about was how scared Ominis and Sebastian must be, trapped somewhere for what must be nearly two days at this point, starving and cold and alone, so very alone without the thought of someone coming for them. They didn’t know how hard you were searching for them. They knew how much you cared for them— that you would do anything to keep them safe. It was a small comfort to think that they had hope of rescue. That being said, fear does fickle things to the mind, even to the strongest of people. You could only imagine the torment that they must be going through at the hands of the villains after you.

Desperate to erase the pain harbored in your chest, you flew. There were no feelings in the sky, no sadness in the wind caressing your face with its gentle gale. There was only freedom before you. Free from your binds as a Keeper of ancient magic— free from the responsibilities placed upon your shoulders before you even understood what they meant. You were much too young for this level of sadness, not even sixteen and having to deal with the possibility that your two best friends may very well die at the hands of your enemies. You shouldn’t even have enemies. You should be studying in the library with your friends, laughing with a confidence that could only be found in a young, obnoxiously mischievous teenager— like you were the sunlight that warmed the day and the moonrays that cooled the night. Instead, you were dealt cards that you had never seen before for a game that had no rules to follow.

Once you touched down on the grassy lawn of the bell tower courtyard, you were angry. More angry than you had ever felt before. A ravenous hunger for revenge scorched through your veins and licked at the ancient magic swirling in your chest, pushing and pulling the magic to and fro like it was trying to call forth an army of unimaginable disaster. Static swam in your ears against the pounding of your heart as you ran through the hallways of the imposing school, throwing yourself around corners and fighting against the crowds of students that were all too aware of the terrible fortune that has befallen your existence. All they saw was a poor, heartbroken bastard that had just lost their closest friends— a pitiful excuse of a human in search of a hopeless miracle. Fools, all of them. They didn’t know the velocity of pain slamming itself against your heart. They didn’t know that your world was falling apart faster than you could put the pieces back together. You could feel their whispers against your back, their eyes boring into your skin like you were a freak show in the traveling circus. The names of your lost loves followed you like a feral beast tracking the scent of blood. How dare they utter the names of your beloved. How dare they view you as helpless— as weak. For too long had these neanderthals viewed you as less than because of your house, your upbringing, your name. You would show them, you’d show them all.

Even still, under that blistering, that blinding anger, there was a deep and foreboding sadness inside of you. It called to you— implored you to cease the rapid pounding of your feet against the linoleum floor and quell the explosive hatred bubbling in your gut. You knew that it wasn’t the fault of any of your peers that Ominis and Sebastian had been taken. It was yours. You were the reason they were gone. If anyone deserved your ire, it was yourself. Skidding to a stop near the main entrance to the hall of Herodiana, you nearly dropped to your knees as the thought ricocheted through your brain like a bullet. The melancholy inside was right. It was your fault. There was no one else to blame but yourself. How could you be so dense? You were the one with ancient magic, after all. You had ended Ranrok and his rebellion. You had murdered Victor Rookwood. You had killed countless dark witches and wizards on your pillage towards righteousness. Who were you to think your power as something godly— something blessed by the saints, something divine? They had cast the first stone, but you had made it hale boulders. You needed to run, to hide from the outside world. You were a monster. An omen of death. Anyone close to you was as good as dead— Fate had made that fact inordinately clear.

Through it all, there was only one place you wanted to be, and that was cradled in the arms of your Slytherins.

Fortunately, if you could even call it that, there was another place that you could go to feel close to them. Just the thought of the Undercroft sent a pang of guilt through your chest, making your eyes move against your will to the lonely corner where your favorite blond liked to nap in the sunshine. Steel stronger than anything goblin forged grew cold in your eyes, the embers of the fresh metal dying out with only the sound of your shattering heart as fanfare. Grief and rage swirled in your gut like a demented, Hadestic hurricane. Fire threatened to spill from your panting lips with each step you took, your soul unable to even comprehend the pain resting just behind your teeth— the ache of grief— the burn of fury.

But still, on you ran— ran to the safety of the closest you could get to your home.

The gun-metal gate of the Undercroft creaked open with a sickening wail, like it too mourned the loss of its original owners. Your feet felt like lead as you finally skidded to a stop— your knees threatening to give up and let your weight tumble to the ground as waves of memories assaulted your mind. This was the room that you fell in love in; the room that held so much of your devotion to the two Slytherin boys you befriended what felt like years ago; how quickly they had wormed their way into your naive heart. It was a scary thought that they had this much power over you, even though it had only been a little over a year since you met the pair. Melancholia began to cloud your vision again, tears threatening to spill down your already reddened and wind-raw cheeks. At any other point you would think you were going insane with how often your emotions were shifting— anger, to despair, to worry, to anger again— sadangrysadangrysad— boundless, cosmic. But, for once the chaos felt right.

It felt like home.

Your footfalls were as loud as stone falling down a cliffside as you trudged around the space, your steps shaky and unsure like a newborn babe. To your right you could hear the ghost of Sebastian pouring over Slytherin’s spellbook— not a pleasant time, but how you loved the sound of his voice when he was excited. Just over your shoulder you felt the misty presence of Ominis as he practiced his potions. He was still rubbish at it, but it was rare to see him so disheveled, like an eclipse that only came around once in a lifetime— it was also quite cute when he scrunched his nose in frustration. You finally reached the desk you sat at so many times before, the three of you leaning over the roughly sanded wood with homework strewn across the surface as you argued over the answer to a Divination question you were all puzzled by. Everything was painful now; no happy feelings fluttering in your chest at the sight of the brunette’s discarded ties or the blond’s evergrowing collection of quick-note quills. Your heart ached at the realization that it was beginning to feel hopeless, like you would never feel happiness again for as long as you lived— you wouldn’t if you never saw their smiling faces once more. Just once, that was truly all you were asking for. Alas, the gods above did not grant miracles to people like you. They did not bless the heretics.

From inside your robe, the two wands tucked safely in your breast pocket burned.

An uncomfortable feeling began to grow in your chest, the feeling of despair soon taken over by an all encompassing rage. Flames licked at your ankles and ash grew thick in the air— you choked against the sludge building in your lungs. Even if the room was as cold as the Arctic, not a bit of heat in the large, echoing space, you felt like you were burning alive. With trembling hands, you gingerly— carefully— took the two magical instruments from your pocket and placed them onto the mahogany table.

The world did not end quietly for you that day. It was big, and loud, and infinite. It did not come from nowhere.

It came from you.

The only sound that could be heard over your heaving, ferocious breaths was the ricochet of crashing lumber against resolute stone. Screams lodged themselves in your throat as you furiously threw spell after spell around the space. Boxes lining the walls were sent splintering across the floor with one simple flick of your wrist, plooms of fire following soon after as you exploded the rubble. It was a catastrophe, that room. That once wonderful room that housed every piece of your joy— your true, unfiltered happiness. Now, your one remaining source of bliss was gone— ripped away from you far too soon. Your footsteps shook the ground as you paced across the space, your fingers frantically wracking through your hair and pulling at the roots, sending sparks of pain through your skull. The color around you seemed to fade into a blinding monochrome, painting your vision a startling black around the edges as your ire festered deep inside. If Ominis was here with you, he would chastise you for your incessant back and forth, grouchily complaining in that petulant tone of his that you were disturbing his peace; something he so rarely got, as he liked to remind you. You would smile in a sickeningly sweet way as you turned to face him, gesturing rudely before continuing your path. He would, somehow, know what you did, and would give you the same gesture in turn, a smirk turning the corners of his lips. Sebastian would laugh behind the pages of the thick tome he had decided to snatch from the library that day. You would tease him that if he kept reading like that he would need glasses one day soon. He would wave you off with a chuckle.

You could hear them all around you at that moment, the ghost of two complementary laughs filling the echoing space— one loud and boisterous, twinged the color of tree tops under your feet as you flew against the brilliant blue sky, one a subdued chuckle, jovial, but fragile, rare, mirth painting your world the color of sunsets over Loch Lomond.

How you longed to hear those sounds again.

Unable to hold it at bay any longer, the tsunami of your wails breached the delicate, raw skin at the back of your throat for the second time that day, sneaking through your tightly clenched teeth with small whimpers, each one increasing in volume as the seconds bloomed into minutes. Blood pooled in your mouth and threatened to make you choke on it.

Under all sounds, the two wands resting like sleep on the table hummed.

With one mighty breath— one deep and stuttered inhale, you screamed into the vast space. Your pain swam in the air like a thick granite-toned fog across the Clagmar coast, filling every corner of the room until you could only choke on the thick plumes. You wrenched the wands from the surface, each branch of wood still thrumming with the magic of its owner and carrying a distinct aura, something you once would have blushed at the notion of identifying so easily, and threw them across the room with every ounce of might you could muster. They bounced off the farthest wall from you before tumbling to the ground, the tiny sparks of magic sputtering out of each tip hissing against the dusty floor. You wanted to rip the world apart at the seams, scorch the very fabric of existence in your devastating rage. You wanted to devour the sky whole and spit out stars in its wake. Hell hath no fury like a lover scorned, and you did not fear Hell. You howled again, loud and long and lingering against the echoing cathedral ceilings as you wordlessly casted a spell of brimstone and fire. You held your wand steady in your hand, fingernails digging into your skin and drawing pebbles of blood to the surface, your steps turning your body in a small circle where you stood as you set every box, every table, every chair in the encompassing space ablaze. Flames roared to life around you as you fell to your knees within your personal pyre, sobs crescendoing to their highest peak as you mourned. Scattered papers fluttered to the ashen floor like embers in a steadily burning bonfire, tiny little stars reaching their hands upwards in hopes that they, too, would be looked at in wonder each night.

You were no closer to finding Ominis and Sebastian as you were when you first set off this morning. No clues could be found anywhere to signify where they could have gone— where they could have been taken. There was no guarantee if you would ever see them again.

A bit of parchment landed softly against where your hand was clenched on the ground— a touch of care in your monument of grief. Your eyes trailed downwards, catching on the smoldering corners of the piece of sheet music. A shaking hand entered your field of vision— yours, you realized— and hesitantly picked it up with vibrating fingers. Written neatly across the bars were the gentle curves of piano chords, each one tucked together like birds huddling for warmth in a tune you did not know. The handwriting was almost perfect, like it was printed in one of the many scores on the impressively stocked shelves of the music room, but there was still something distinctly imperfect; something alien, something human. Each note was slanted, like someone else was dictating what should be on the page and another noted it down. Some sections were crossed out ferociously, tiny dots of ink splattering with each harsh strike. Letting your eyes roam, new misty tears gathered on your lashes at the chicken scratch decorating the corner of the piece.

Property of Ominis, 1891.

You touched the ink gently, imagining it when it was freshly wet. Ominis did always like to write his name himself; everything else could be done with his quick-notes quill. There was something, he told you once, about writing out your own name on a piece of parchment. Labeling something with your identity in ink black as pitch and just as permanent. It was yours, he said. Not your families, not anyone else's. It belonged to you and you alone. He liked the idea of owning something that his family couldn’t touch.

The blond had notated one section, right near the end of the set of bars and crescendoing into the next, that garnered your attention. Someone else had drawn a crooked arrow that pointed to one of the half notes, a single sentence following just within the margin of the page.

This note is wrong.

The lettering was swirled slightly, like someone decided to learn cursive but gave up halfway through the lessons. The writer had a heavy hand; tiny drops of ink decorated the loops of their i’s and g. Each word was written like the person had something better to do, something more to jot down as their brain moved faster than their hand. A tear dripped onto the page, smudging the lettering as you recognized the handwriting.

Sebastian.

Just under it, another scratched sentence— the letters perfectly imperfect.

You can’t even read sheet music, you walnut.

Such a little thing, such a small detail, but oh how it meant the world to you. How much sorrow you could feel from two scribbles of words on a bit of parchment.

To anyone looking in from the outside, they would only see your grief. They would see your mourning in the tears that streaked down your ash covered cheeks— your agony in the wrinkles and dusty fingerprints adorning the pretty pastel yellow sweater under your tweed coat. They did not know the truth, though. You were out of tears— out of sobs and wails. All you felt now was blinding, incapacitating rage. You wanted to cry more, to scream and rip the paper clutched in your hands to shreds and wait until the universe granted you this one wish: to bring your boys home to you. But, there was no more time for that— no more wishes to come true, no more room inside of you for anything other than outrage. Fury. Hatred.

Revenge.

And so you stood up on your shaking legs, casting a wordless water charm to put out your flames. Your eyes glowed as the pyre dimmed, leaving only ash and ruin. True, opaque smoke tumbled towards the peaked roof of the hideaway, curling around each other with a sizzle and stray spark— an Oroborous of cataclysmic size. From within the circle of your own destruction, you couldn’t help but think that the room looked morbidly beautiful.

With the last iota of grace you could muster, you tucked the piece of music into your pocket, gingerly picking up the discarded wands once again— relishing just a bit in the warmth that still resided in each piece of magical bark— and tucked them where they should be in your pocket.

A wolfish, wicked grin stretched across your face as you stared at the carnage you made. Your shoulders straightened— dangerously so, unnaturally so. A new sparkle grew in your eyes— something deadly and unfamiliar, but so damn right.

If a fight was what they wanted, a fight is what they would get.

You were a beast— bloodthirsty with an insatiable appetite for slaughter.

You were not an option. You were inevitable. A horror beyond their comprehension. An omen. A threat. They would soon understand that. You would make them understand that.

They would pray for mercy with their pretty words, and then you would sink your teeth into their throat and rip each of them out until there was nothing left.

It was a common occurrence for Sebastian to take care of Ominis after his nightmares. It was amazing that he didn’t have to do it more often, honestly. He was always a perceptive boy; it was one of his best assets. So, when Ominis would wake up in the dead of the night, his breathing heavy and panting with a sheen of sweat coating his clammy skin, it wasn’t hard to figure out the young Gaunt’s secret. For the longest time the boy refused to tell Sebastian anything— he was ever so insecure, after all, and he did not want anyone to know that about him. But even still, the brunette slowly, carefully, chipped away at his barriers piece by piece until the blond would let him crawl into bed with him and hush his muffled cries.

It took him even longer to pry what the nightmares were about out of the boy— nearly three years of waking to Ominis screaming himself conscious. Sebastian knew that the Gaunt family was not a kind one. Being a pureblood wizard himself, just not of the same pedigree, as the sacred family would say, he was well aware of the politics surrounding blood purity and the cruelty of the families that practiced those types of ideals. What he did not know was how unfeeling they could be towards their own children. The Sallow family was one of love— happiness. Joy seeped through the cracks in their threadbare manor by the coast and coated every inch of their meager belongings. He learned of care, of family, of belonging— most importantly, he learned what it meant to learn. There was never a night that his mother and father did not bid the twins goodnight without a kiss on the head and a story. Ominis did not grow like that. The Gaunt house was cold, both physically and emotionally. It rested atop of a lone hill just on the outskirts of wizard London, the walls as tall as the clouds and the wards surrounding the property even higher— a house of ghosts. He never knew what it meant to play, to run through the grass and jump into the creek just beyond his fence. Instead, he learned of pain, of neglect, and, of course, of fear. The one thing that they had in common was that they both learned the meaning of the word “family,” even if they had been taught very different definitions.

So, when Ominis awoke in the middle of the night with a howl trapped in his throat and a plea of mercy towards his father at the tip of his tongue, Sebastian did not ask any questions. It was not a time for answers, it was a time for comfort. For care. For kindness.

After the screams had subsided and the tears had dried on the blonds boney cheeks, it was some of the most peaceful times the two boys had ever shared.

Sebastian was warmth to Ominis. He was hugs in the middle of the night and waking up to his arm around his waist. He was the calm after the tremulous storm in his mind. And in turn, Ominis was Sebastian’s balm. He kept the heat within him from roaring out in a grand blaze with a simple touch of his hand. He was his beginnings and his ends— his softly whispered fable in front of the common room fireplace. Above all else, he was his good.

It killed them both inside, a little bit more each second that passed, that they couldn’t comfort the other. Ominis had expressed his anguish last night as he listened to Sebastian’s shaky breaths and the stuttered rhythm of his heart as he drifted into a sickly sleep. Now, it was the freckled boy’s turn to listen out for the other. For the longest time he wasn’t sure if the blond was even alive; his chest was that still. It took an hour at least— an hour of the youngest Sallow twin sobbing and calling out for his love— for Ominis to make the smallest sound. Sebastian didn’t hear it at first against the pounding in his skull. His skin was a sickly pale color at that point, sweat beading at his brow and trailing down the sides of his face even though it was hellishly cold in their dismal prison. Tremors shook his entire body, fighting against the hot that scorched just under his skin and the chill that permeated the air around him. The infection was getting worse. Much, much, worse. It was a miracle that he was still conscious— a miracle or his death. He would take either at that point.

Awash in terror and sickeningly macabre thoughts, it took him a moment to register movement from the other side of the room. He didn’t believe it at first; it must have been a trick of the light, or the breeze blowing through the dungeon had simply tossed Ominis’ hair like a lover smoothing it away from his face. But sure enough, his chest had begun to rise and fall at a faster rate. His breath pushed out of his bruised lungs with much more effort than what was normal. The tiny puffs of air coiled around the bars of his cage like a soul swallowed by the demons of Azkaban. Sebastian’s own panting stilled in his throat, finally registering that the blond was alive. Joy felt like the wrong emotion to be feeling then, but he couldn’t help the relieved smile that pressed at the corners of his mouth— couldn’t stop the nearly soundless laugh that tumbled from the very depths of his heart. How could he feel anything but elation knowing that Ominis had survived what some of the strongest Auror’s could not? Stars, he loved him. He loved him more than the sun loved the moon— more than ships loved a lighthouses song just off the shore. If his light was alive, if he was okay, then by Salazar, he could do anything. Sebastian felt the familiar feeling of hope fill his chest with butterflies for the first time in a very long while.

That was, until he heard the sounds coming from the boy just out of reach.

They started quiet, like the buzz of a crackling coal in a still fire. Tiny whimpers— the smallest iota of a sound. But then, they got louder. The coals caught ablaze once more, drowning the suffocating silence of their downy prison with clipped screams and harsh whines. It sounded like it pained the blond to even utter the noises breaching through his chattering teeth. The chilling realization washed over Sebastian like the icy waters of the black lake— Ominis was trapped in a nightmare. His heart sank once more, dread pooling just under his jaw and threatening to tear its way out of his sweat and dirt marred throat with its deadly sharp claws. He wanted nothing more than to take the young Gaunt into his arms and hold him close— to press his face against his blood soaked hair and shush his cries into the clammy skin at his collar.

That was Leona’s greatest torture, he realized. Keeping them apart. Just out of fingers reach.

His hope bled from him like the sea bled moonlight, and he let his body fall onto the stone wall just at his back, head resting in his shaking palms as his fingers fisted at his greasy, knotted hair. Soft sobs filled the still air once again.

Please, he prayed, hoping that his voice would somehow carry to the tall castle that seemed to be on the other side of the world. Please, come save us.

The nightmares always started the same. He was in the halls of the Gaunt manor, the dismal aura surrounding him stealing the joy from his soul and crushing his lungs with its banshee-like claustrophobia. He could feel the harsh grip of his older brother at his shoulder, his fingers digging painfully into his velvet dinner jacket and pressing bruises deep into his skin. He wasn’t sure what to make of the attention at first. Before it truly registered in his mind, it was almost familial the way Marvolo wrapped his arm around Ominis’ taut shoulders, steering him away from his path towards the library and instead leading him deeper and deeper into the foreboding manor halls. No words were spoken between the two— conversation was rare between the pair… between any of the Gaunt leaders and the small boy, really. He was a pariah in his own home. The black sheep hiding in a den of wolves.

Ominis recalled it being a fairly normal day. He had had tea with his dear Aunt Noctua just an hour before, only stopping their conversation when the sun had begun to set and the air around them had begun to chill. That was when he found himself meandering his way towards the grand library at the center of his abode. That is, until his brother so rudely interrupted him. He remembered feeling unsure at the sudden attention from the elder Gaunt sibling. Marvolo tended to ignore him as of late, instead favoring his father’s company as they discussed his work at the Ministry. He was quite curious as to where the taller of the two was taking him, but he knew better than to ask questions, instead electing to simply follow and see what panned out. All he knew was that his brother’s fingers felt piercing against his skin.

The memory played out behind his eyes like a moving picture on the tall walls. It was one of those rare nightmares that Ominis could minutely picture what was happening around him. While he did not have the gift of sight, he had an active imagination when it came to visible stimuli. The halls of Gaunt manor, as he had been told before, were painted a muted olive tone with silver embellishments along the vaulted ceilings and dangling chandeliers above his head— like the sound of leaves rustling in the trees on a fall evening. The walls were lined with sentient pictures of his ancestors, dating all the way back to Salazar Slytherin himself. He did not know what his family truly looked like, but he knew some small specifics. Soft yellow hair, nearly white in some lantern light. Strong features across their pointed faces. Unnervingly blue eyes and a haunting stare to match. All things that he had in common with everyone on his family tree— more of a tangled bush than anything, he liked to joke to himself. They were unusually quiet that night, not even a whisper of a scathing remark about his impairment to be heard in the hushed hallway.

Strange, Ominis had mused to himself.

The vision shifted then, the green and silver foyer falling away to a dark and dismal room. The air was startlingly still in the youngest Gaunt’s ears, not even the softest breeze could be felt in the echoing space. Everything around him was black— no description to go off of in his mind for what he was experiencing. There were others in the room, but even they were silent. He could smell his mothers strong perfume, something heady and obnoxious in his sensitive nose. The harsh smell of his fathers cigars mingled unpleasantly with the scent of the overly powdery notes. Beyond them he could place something unfamiliar— something striking and metallic, like old galleons at the bottom of a coin purse. It reminded him of when he had scraped his knee earlier in the week on the patio outside. Copper. Iron.

His breathing stilled in his chest.

Blood.

It was then that he heard the panting breaths off to his left, the cadence foreign to anyone in his bloodline. The breathing was shallow in nature, with a slight stutter between hisses of pain. He could not sense any new magic signatures in the space. Something was wrong. Very, very, wrong.

His father stepped forwards then, pulling him from his brother’s grasp and replacing the bite of Marvolo’s fingers with his own as he steered him farther into the room. He led him to what he thought was the middle of the room before letting go and turning to face the boy, his form towering over Ominis like a dragon to a simple goat. The boy fought against the shiver that threatened to move through him at the intensity of the Gaunt patriarch’s stare.

“Ominis.” His father’s gravelly tone scratched at his ears. “It is time that you prove your worth in this family.”

He was puzzled. Had he not done so already? He was their flesh and blood. Surely that was enough?

“What do you mean, father?” He said, confusion lacing his young voice.

Annoyance shed from every corner of the room— all three of his closest family members. His anxiety began to subtly increase, a knot beginning to form in his throat. Had he said something wrong?

“I mean,” his father hissed. “It is time that we show you why we are the strongest, the most widely known, the most feared wizarding family to date.”

The stillness around him was cut by the sharp swipe of Erebus Gaunt’s wand as he threw the first spell.

“Crucio.”

Ominis had never heard screams that loud before. They were sharp, painful, terrified. He covered his ears against the harshness of it, his eyes slamming shut as he processed what just happened. There were two distinct voices calling out, he noticed. One higher— feminine. The other lower in tone and with a more masculine lilt. They wailed in agony from the spell, its electric current pulsing in their bodies as it burned away the blood in their veins. Pleas of mercy filled the room like a never ending current. The boy’s arms were ripped away from his head, forcing him to listen to every sound of anguish. Each howl was like a blinding light straight into his frontal cortex. Tears pooled in his eyes at the pure agony soaking him to the bone.

Just as quickly as it began, it was over. The youngest Gaunt’s body trembled in place as silence bathed the room in blackness once again.

His voice shook against the words escaping from his clamped throat. “What— what was that?”

Marvolo’s voice came from over his shoulder. “Pest control.”

Ominis’ heart nearly gave out when he grasped his brother’s meaning. Muggles.

He shook his head rapidly, taking two stumbling steps back before bumping into the strong chest of his father. Two hands clamped down roughly on his shoulders, holding him in place. All the puzzle pieces floating around in his muddled mind fit together with a sickening click.

“No.” He breathed, his panic growing stronger and stronger by each passing second. “No! I won’t do it! This is too much— you’re asking too much!”

His father’s grip tightened, his fingernails digging fresh indents into his collar. “You will not question your father, boy.” He spit the word like an insult.

Ominis shook his head, fighting against the arms holding him in place. Frightened tears spilled down his cheeks. All he could hear against the blood pounding in his ears was the weak cries of the couple at his feet, begging him for mercy.

His mother finally spoke, her voice resigned and twinged with irritation. “Just get on with it, Erebus. We haven’t got all night.”

His father growled above him. “You will hold your tongue, Catarina.” He turned his attention back to the shivering boy clamped under his bruising grip. “Cast the spell, boy. I will not ask twice.”

Ominis felt a slender piece of wood be shoved into his hand.

He shook his head again, terror flooding his tiny, ten-year-old body. “Please, father. Don’t make me do this.” He dropped the wand onto the floor, listening to it roll away from his feet.

As quickly as it began it was over. His father released him, harshly shoving him to the cold granite ground. The blond caught himself before his face hit, his hands outstretched and nearly sliding away against the blood that bloomed across the floor. He felt like he was going to be sick.

Erebus Gaunt’s footsteps rang in his ears as he paced away from his hunched form, the thumps only ceasing for a moment as they were replaced by the clatter of wood against tile. His deep, foreboding sigh filled the entire room like the hiss of a snake.

“I didn’t want to have to do this, boy.” He said, his tone almost sounded sympathetic if Ominis didn’t know any better. “Know that it was you who forced my hand.”

He could only puzzle what it meant for a stagnant moment before his entire world came crashing down around him.

“Crucio!”

Pain. Unimaginable pain. Excruciating. Constant. Incapacitating. That was all he felt. That and betrayal— heartbreak. Never had they hurt him like this before. Nothing physical, at least. Words can leave just as harsh of a sting on your soul as hands can. This was new, though. His very being was on fire, like the strings that kept him tied together inside were being ripped apart by the hands of the Fates. His blood boiled under his skin— his tongue felt like it was as thick as fresh cotton and as heavy as steel. It was a miracle he didn’t bite through it. The magic licked at every bit of him, every pore and hair follicle, like a rabid dog. He had never been burned before, but Ominis was sure that even the touch of the hottest coals in all of Tartarus itself would hurt less than this. If he was able to see before this, he would be twice as blind by the end. He was sure that if he opened his eyes— his mouth— his insides would leak out like melting ice at the bottom of a glass.

Through it all, he thought he heard a scream. A small part of him hoped it was his mother, begging father to stop. Only when the pain finally ceased and he felt how raw his throat had become did he realize he was only hearing himself.

The tinkle of wood against the granite mosaic was familiar to him now when his father dropped the wand next to his trembling hand. The world felt muddled around him— too much, but also too little against his skin.

“I tell you again, Ominis.” His father’s voice was like shattering glass. “Prove to me that you are worthy of the life we are providing you.”

As much as his heart bled— his soul screamed and pleaded against the hand wrapping around the wand— he knew that this was life or death now. Torture or be tortured— kill or be killed. He stood on shaky legs, a hand clenched around his stomach like his insides would tumble to the floor if he relieved the pressure there. His already overactive senses kicked into overdrive. The blood covering his once pristine clothes smelled twice as strong as before. The sobs of the poor muggles his family had taken from their home grated against his ringing ears with a startling clarity. The wood in his left hand— much too big for his small fingers— felt like a ten pound weight. Everything was too much. He had to make it stop— everything had to stop.

All he wanted was for it to stop.

He cast the spell.

This all was the same, of course. Every nightmare was the same.

This one, though, was an anomaly.

Because, instead of the voices of the two muggles that he was forced to torture, all he heard was the screams of you and Sebastian.

From the sky came a note. Nothing special— no identifiable penmanship, no return address, no nomenclature. Just your name printed neatly across the front.

Inside the old, yellowed envelope were two things. One, a letter— a scrawl of some coordinates and the request to come alone, all signed with a swirled see you soon.

Huddled at the bottom, tucked into one of the corners, was the second thing— two things, really. Tied neatly together with a piece of twine, a delicate bow decorating it like a present on Christmas, was a bundle of hair. White and brown.

The wind around you howled as you summoned your broom to your hand. A storm was brewing— you didn’t know which was stronger, the one in the air, or the one inside of you.

Whomever sent the letter would find out soon enough. You thought about where you would hurt them first. As you kicked off the ground, the frigid gale answered everywhere.

AN: The wait won't be that long again, I promise!! Next part will be the last.

41 notes · View notes

delimeful · 9 months

Text

not always what they seem (5)

warnings: misunderstandings, remus-typical mentions of gore and cannibalism, swearing, arguing, lmk if i missed any!

Their captors were up to something.

Janus studied the far side of the room with narrowed eyes, ignoring the pulsing headache that had slowly been developing over the past few hours.

By all accounts, he should have woken one of the others up for a watch shift far before now. Instead, he’d seated himself behind them and watched the aliens unerringly.

A large part of his job required him to observe people. The way someone moved and gestured and reacted physically while conversing with others gave away more than most knew, and Janus was well-practiced in the art. He could read practically anyone like a book.

These creatures might have been from an entirely different library, so to speak, but he’d never let something like that stop him before.

Logan was the easiest, because he had the most to work with and his features were… not quite the most human, but certainly mammalian in nature.

Janus had met many a stray cat whilst lurking totally non-suspiciously in dark alleys, and he found himself appreciating the experience when he observed the way Logan’s ears flicked and flattened in response to certain conversations or actions.

Ever the instigator, Remus had provided his own contribution in the form of thoroughly disturbing the aliens. He’d likely made them think their specimens were damaged with his little shoulder stunt, and while Janus had been quick to point out the potential pitfalls of the behavior, he’d also taken careful note of the way Logan had reacted— their pupils had gone still and slitted, their ears nearly vanishing with how flat they’d gone, and their tail lashing behind them.

The whole mess had at least tapped a wellspring of useful information: Patton’s hands went still and their voice low, while Roman had begun to audibly buzz, rising up on their toes. Clear tells of concern and stress were worth his weight in gold in this sort of situation.

It was extremely tempting to let Remus do whatever he pleased just for the reactions, if it weren’t for the concerningly high odds that the behavior might get him slapped with a defective or diseased label. Janus didn’t have the same preoccupation with panic that Virgil did, but he was still very aware of the ways the situation could turn sour.

Janus wasn’t fond of feeling helpless, and in a situation like this, every glimpse of the aliens was accompanied by the looming knowledge that he was utterly outmatched on nearly every level. Resources, physical power, environment, presence— they held far too many of the cards.

Luckily, they didn’t know they’d picked up someone who was more than experienced at pulling cards from thin air.

He would scrape and gather every sliver of control he could get, and eventually it would be enough to get them out of here.

For now, however, it was vital that he bide his time and pay attention.

Thus, when piles of boxes began to accumulate across the lab and the aliens abandoned their prior workstations to begin setting something up behind a divider, he’d immediately started tracking their movements.

There was nothing overtly morose or angry in their movements, which was a relief in more ways than one. The way they were testing had shifted a few times, and the last thing Janus wanted was for them to decide humans were simply out of their expertise range and better off under a different lab’s scalpel.

Better the devil you know, after all.

Plus, Janus had already memorized a bunch of their tells, and would be incredibly annoyed to have to start fresh with a new gaggle of terrifying giant scientists.

Thankfully, there was no sign of that yet.

In fact, they seemed almost enthusiastic, chattering between themselves as they moved boxes from place to place, or opened one and pulled some strange apparatus out before moving out of sight again. Whatever they were making, it was exciting to them.

Of course, that could mean very bad news for the resident lab rats.

Janus was attempting not to let Virgil’s catastrophizing or Remus’s… imagination infect his plans, but he ended up watching for any sharp-edged implements anyhow.

It was only once they started cleaning up their mess, shuffling boxes and packing items away, that Janus finally reached over to wake up his companions.

“Rise and shine,” he said, opting for a wakeup call that was more obscure and hopefully, harder to translate.

None of the aliens seemed to be in easy hearing range, but better safe than sorry. He still wasn’t sure whether or not they were being recorded by default, after all.

Earlier, he’d tried using a variety of complex synonyms to teach Virgil what he’d learned of their language, only to receive an exhausted, dead-eyed stare.

“I write for a living, but even I can’t handle the ‘swallowed a thesaurus’ vibe you’re putting out right now,” he’d said, and Janus had reluctantly conceded.

Now, Virgil’s body reacted much quicker than his mind, which seemed to be a pattern with him. He jolted awake the second Janus tapped his shoulder, inhaling sharply before flailing away from them to land in a disoriented heap a couple feet away. He attempted to scramble even further back, head whipping from side to side like he expected to be jumped from every angle at any minute.

Janus held his hands up non aggressively, firmly planted in his spot, and watched as the fog of sleep slowly lifted from their youngest member’s eyes.

“A graceful riser, aren’t you?” he commented dryly.

“Shut up,” Virgil muttered, but the tension seeped out of his shoulders quickly enough that it was a little flattering. There was some trust there, after all. “What’s goin’ on? Did– Did nobody wake me for a shift?”

“It hasn’t been that long,” Janus lied smoothly, ignoring the little pinch of doubt in Virgil’s brow. “Our gracious hosts seem to have something planned.”

The distraction worked; Virgil immediately swiveled to glare across the room at where the giants were tidying up.

Still played out on the ground like a ragdoll, Remus cracked open an eye to stare up at Janus. He undeniably knew Janus was full of shit, but didn’t bother saying anything about it as he pushed himself from laying to standing in one move, yet another freakish display of flexibility.

“So,” he said, slinging one arm around Virgil’s shoulder and failing to sling the other around Janus, “what are we thinking? The alien version of a Hawaiian-style barbeque, or Saw-style torture chamber?”

Virgil elbowed him in the gut, but didn’t actually take the opportunity to wiggle out from under his arm. “Stop speaking forever.”

“Aw, but then how would I seduce the aliens? I know I’ve got a smokin’ hot bod, but sexiness is only skin-deep or whatever.” Remus perked up slightly. “Ooh, that’s an idea! What I actually need to show them is my gorgeous skeleton. That settles it, I’m voting Saw trap.”

With all the unfortunate timing of a bad sitcom, Patton approached, carrying one of those transparent cells they’d first awoken in. Virgil took a few steps back just seeing the thing, and Janus wondered what it was specifically about the item that upset him. Claustrophobia? Acrophobia? A simple hatred for the reminder of how very trapped they were?

Regardless, this was the sort of negotiation that he could handle.

“Hello,” Patton said, setting the cell down on the table near them. They said a few other things, too, none of which Janus caught, but the meaning was clear enough when they slid the lid to the cell off and held an expectant hand out.

“I don’t suppose you learned how to say ‘hell fucking no’ in alienspeak yet?” Virgil muttered, edging a little closer to Remus without even seeming to notice he was doing it.

“The next lesson, perhaps,” Janus shot back dryly, and then stepped forward but stopped short of actually climbing onto their hand.

“No cell,” he spoke carefully, pointing to the clear box and then shaking his head firmly.

He wanted to keep as much of their language secret as possible, yes, but there were some words that they definitely wanted the aliens to understand. First and foremost, the word ‘no’.

Patton hesitated, hands freezing in place in a way that Janus expected meant uncertainty, but Virgil clearly saw the stillness as a precursor to attack. Shaking himself free of Remus’s willowy form, he edged close to Janus with his eyes locked on Patton and a snarl that seemed mostly like a baring of teeth.

Janus was fairly sure that biting would have little to no effect on the alien’s craggy, tortoise-like skin, but it was the sentiment that counted, he supposed.

He didn’t react to his impromptu emo bodyguard, keeping his attention locked on Patton, and simply held his hands out, cupped and palm up.

After a moment, Patton reached a second hand over to mimic the posture, and Janus stepped close to it. “Virgil, if you’ll step forward and touch that first hand?”

“If I’ll what.” The glare was practically audible.

Janus sighed. “Work with me here? Unless you’d prefer the box. It would certainly mean less effort for me.”

A short beat of silence, and then Virgil reached forward and tentatively touched his fingertips to Patton’s hand. Janus nodded shortly and then beckoned at another one of Patton’s hands and held his hands out in demonstration again, hoping the intent would come through even with the difference in body language.

There was a pause as Patton looked over at where the other two giants were waiting, and then lowered a third hand into range.

“Remus,” Janus said, and glanced over his shoulder with barely hidden amusement. “Do I even need to ask?”

“You had me at hand stuff!” Remus responded brightly, skipping up to the upheld hand and hopping slightly to casually seat himself on it, like he was boosting himself up to sit on a counter or oversized stool.

Janus took a steadying breath as subtly as possible, and then climbed on himself. This was the first test of how much influence they had. It was better to know now rather than later, especially with an opportunity involving such low stakes.

“We’re really doing this, huh,” Virgil said, and scuffed his hands through his hair roughly with a groan before visibly steeling himself.

To Patton’s credit, he remained patiently still even as Virgil hauled himself into their hand at a snail's pace.

Once they were all settled, Patton lifted them up with all the due diligence they’d used with Janus previously, and glanced over at the cell.

“No,” they echoed the English thoughtfully, and then turned away from it, watching their reactions closely.

The way Virgil relaxed slightly, his expression evening out into something like relief, likely spoke for itself, but Janus nodded slowly in approval anyhow.

Hm. Perhaps their chances of getting out of this alive weren’t as dire as first assumed.

—

Patton turned around slowly, holding all three of their small, skittish guests with an astounded tint to his skin.

“Tell me the recorders were on,” he demanded, his free hands twitching visibly with the urge to fidget. “Tell me you guys saw that!”

His voice went a little too high-pitched, Logan’s ears flattening back slightly, but both he and Roman seemed just as delighted as him.

“We weren’t close enough to catch most of what they said, but the outcome speaks for itself, I think,” Logan said, watching Patton’s hands almost as intently as the Nilh was.

“I’m so jealous right now, you have no idea,” Roman announced. “How did you convince Purple to let you hold them?! They hissed at me!”

“I didn’t,” Patton replied, moving slowly and smoothly towards them. “Yellow did.”

The three of them looked at the tiny alien in question, who didn’t balk but grew the slightest bit tenser on Patton’s palm.

An experienced deceiver, Patton thought sadly, and couldn’t help but wonder just what their former specimens were actually feeling about the situation.

“There must be something that allowed Yellow to take a directive role in the group,” Logan mused, voice rumbling. “They have been leading the other two from the beginning, remember? They were picked up from entirely different locations, but from the beginning there has been a sense of cohesion between them all. It may be worth checking for hivemind organisms, parasitic or symbiotic.”

“I doubt it,” Roman replied. “I caught a hivemind bug in my youth, and the way they move just doesn’t have all the signs. They’re on the same branch, but they’re not interwoven pieces of bark, you know what I mean?”

“I suppose,” Logan said.

“Not really,” said Patton, who hadn’t grown up in a biome with populous tree life.

“Anyhow, if you two will scoot out of the way, I have a feeling that our test chambers will provide some solid evidence against the hivemind theory,” he added, still carefully monitoring his passengers for any sign of fear or unbalancing.

Once the path was clear, he moved forward and then paused at the entrance to the chambers.

They’d been designed with the specimen sect in mind: the entrance had grooves for the box to slide neatly into, at which point they could remotely open the door to the connecting hall and allow the specimens easy access to the space on their own time.

They weren’t dealing with specimens anymore, though, so this could be solved simply enough!

He set the three of them carefully on the stretch of table in front of the first chamber’s entrance, and manually slid the door open.

“Patton, is that… wise?” Roman asked tentatively.

“They seem to respond best to being given choices!” Patton replied. “... Maybe be ready to intervene if they head towards the edge of the table, though.”

—

“I am not doing another death maze. I’m drawing the line in the sand, man,” Virgil announced to the room at large, despite the fact that only half of the occupants could understand him. “The real line in the sand was like, one abduction ago, but I’m drawing a new, deeper line in the sand. Screw this.”

Remus rubbed his hands together in purposefully cartoonish glee. “Y’know, I could get used to this whole space lab rat thing if they keep throwing so much enrichment into my enclosure. I haven’t gotten to destroy the same thing twice in a row since they gave up on rebuilding the local billboard in my town.”

Virgil sighed. “…I don’t even wanna know, man.”

Janus, who had not had the privilege of entering the death maze so far and had no plans of changing that, turned on his heel and started walking the other way.

Only seven steps in, Patton’s hand drifted down to block him from heading any further in that direction.

“No,” the giant said, and gave a solid attempt at shaking their head. Another string of alien syllables, and a flat-handed gesture towards the open doorway.

The other two aliens hovered closeby. Janus considered for a long moment, mostly just to test a few more boundaries before acquiescing.

“Tell me you’re joking,” Virgil groaned, watching him turn around and walk back that way.

“I don’t want to set a precedent that it’s normal or tolerable to ignore a ‘no’.” Janus shrugged. “We can save that for when it’ll be more useful.”

“Useful like avoiding a literal electrified rat race, maybe?” Virgil snapped back, but when Janus showed no signs of stopping, he trudged after him. “Okay, sure, whatever. I’m not jumping in front of any spike traps for you. Your funeral.”

Virgil had already jumped in front of far scarier on Janus’ behalf, but he had enough sense not to say so aloud. Not yet, anyhow. It would make for invaluable teasing material later.

“Can’t spell funeral without fun!” Remus added in cheery anticipation, having waited by the doors expectantly.

He seemed to have understood the sort of boundary-testing Janus was going for quicker than most. It appeared he certainly was keener than his lackadaisical and outright deranged demeanor would imply.

Janus wasn’t typically the kind to take point, but he supposed he had led them into this mess. He was fairly sure at this point that there wasn’t anything intended to harm them inside anyhow. And if there was, well, he’d bluffed his way through worse odds before.

With the same false confidence that carried him everywhere, he led the way through the doors and down the narrow hall into the first room. To his surprise, the doors didn’t immediately slam shut behind them. The lights flickered on, revealing… a floor utterly swathed in fabrics?

“It looks like a laundromat threw up in here,” Virgil muttered, nudging at a pile of fabric warily.

Remus took a running start and cannonballed into one of the larger mounds, thrashing around in it for a moment before sitting up and scanning the room expectantly.

“No death traps here!” he announced to them after a solid ten seconds had passed. “Maybe it’s the alien version of a nice padded cell?”

“It would be a fairly poor cell,” Janus argued, motioning towards the clearly visible doorway on the other side of the room. “I imagine it’s a test of their own, though I can’t imagine what.”

Virgil paused. “Didn’t the big insect idiot take some of your clothes? Remus, don’t even start.”

Remus closed his mouth with a click, grinning.

“Yes, he seemed rather fascinated with it. Persistent, too,” Janus added, his tone distinctly non-complimentary.

The worn hoodie he’d been lent was surprisingly comfortable, but it didn’t change the fact that it didn’t exactly look professional. His appearance was something he preferred to manage himself, besides.

“I’d say maybe it’s a request for tiny clothes, but that’s stupid.” Virgil turned in a slow circle. “Plus there’s no actual sewing supplies.”

Janus glanced up, but the ceiling was opaque. However the aliens were monitoring them, it wasn’t through that.

“The far door is open. Let’s see if the next room can illuminate what precisely they want from us.”

—

“They didn’t pick any textiles!” Roman bemoaned as Patton tapped at his arm in a soothing pattern.

“I told you we shouldn’t have put it first,” Logan said with an ear flick.

“Give it more time,” Patton encouraged. “They’re probably going to go back and forth between rooms a fair few times. We’ll learn their preferences eventually!”

—

“I am never leaving this room. Ever.”

Virgil snorted, as though Janus was being facetious when he actually felt dangerously close to swearing an oath on the matter.

The next room was broken up into five smaller spaces, which turned out to be temperature-controlled.

Janus was currently in the warmest room, practically directly below the heating vent and he had no plans of exiting any time soon.

Remus, who had started sweating as soon as they got to the second warmest area, had already detoured to the coldest section and was currently exposing his pits— and by extension, his body odor— to the fans.

Janus wasn’t going in that section for love or money.

“Stop turning into a puddle,” Virgil demanded, kicking at one of Janus’s legs lightly. “You don’t even know how this thing is heated. We could be getting radiation poisoning right now.”

“Who needs warmth with a ray of sunshine like you in the group,” Janus asked, earning himself a glower. “You have no sympathy for the disabled. For shame.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “Come on. I want to leave but I don’t want to get separated. That’s how they get you in every horror movie ever.”

Janus stretched out a little further, sighing as the heat sank into his bones. “Ahh, the horror.”

“Fine,” Virgil snapped, rising. “Don’t come crying when they start baking you like a pie.”

He stomped off with the energy of a twenty year old. Being an ancient five years older, Janus envied his spry nature.

He’d have to get up and keep moving after all. Just… in a moment or two…

—

They watched as two of the little aliens settled firmly on opposite ends of the climate choice area, with the third one storming off without settling in any particular one.

“…I rescind my hivemind theory.”

“Stars above,” Roman made a low buzzing groan. “This is going to make temperature control so unnecessarily difficult.”

“We’re certainly going to have to get creative,” Patton agreed, unable to conceal his amusement. “Two choices in and we’ve already got trouble on our hands, literally.”

He waved a few hands around to his teammates’ shared exasperation.

“A species with such variance in three samples alone… It’s going to be explosive when we share this footage.” Roman mused. “Nobody’s going to know what hit them.”

Looking down at their tiny guests, Patton couldn’t help but agree.

#nawts #not always what they seem #ts virgil #ts roman #ts janus #ts patton #ts logan #ts remus #my writing #sanders sides fic #g/t #space au #writing

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