#i really took the concept of night blooming flowers and ran with it

[yostresswritinggirl]

Request: hello!! i rlly like your works, and as someone poly myself i was really happy to see your venti x reader x zhongli one!! your writing is so interesting and immersive, too!! i'd really like to see a xiao x reader x venti, if possible! anything, hc, fic, i don't mind :D i especially cherish the idea of xiaoven being together beforehand and trying to figure out how to proceed together. -🌌 (just in case i decide to drop by ur asks again in the future, haha)

And then that poly fic turned into five requests ahahaha, I'm glad you found and enjoyed that, as my first poly fic uhu. I didn't expect to actually find these kinds of fics interesting, life is wack pfft. With the new trailer up too, this just made it more appropriate! I hope you like it!

Drifting Blooms

Poly Xiao and Venti falling in love with the Reader, and trying to establish a relationship with you. (masterlist)

Beforehand

The first person you met was Venti when you crossed paths during one of his escapades to Wangshu Inn. After visiting his lover, he then wanted to visit his old friend and passed you in the middle of the bridge.

You smelled of a thousand flowers mixed into a single perfume, and despite the many scents, it wasn't pungent or intrusive. It was... comforting, intoxicating. He stopped in his steps while you continued your path to the Inn.

Before that chance encounter, you were commissioned by Verr to gather multiple scented flowers for a mass floral change around the Inn. While your messenger bag carefully carried and concealed your baggage, the many times you'd sink into the floras had marked your clothing with its many scents.

Venti, intrigued and ecstatic about the discovery would fly back to the architecture to express his findings to Xiao, who was surprised to see him back so quickly. Upon hearing of your person, the yaksha would simply inform him that he's not exactly aware of who you are, but only knows you by scent as well.

He dubbed you the florist, because everytime you appear, the vases would be filled with healthy and blooming ones. Never had he actually put a face to your title.

So like little children, the both of them peered over the railings to watch you down below, conversing with Verr as you present the freshly picked flowers bundled in your arms. From this distance, the smell still winds up to find their nostrils, making them inhale as the calming effect takes place once more.

You looked disheveled yet still composed, a glaze lily you particularly liked tucked behind both your ears. And Xiao notices the huge claymore clinging to your back, a full head taller than yours.

Verr asks you to bring it to the balcony where it would be arranged as all the vases had been vacated there for drying, and when you looked up upon the mention of the higher floor, your eyes widen upon meeting two pairs of bright tantalizing orbs.

While the beholder of the amber ones pointedly avoided your gaze right after, the teal ones smiled through his eyes, waving at you enthusiastically. You returned the smile softly before you started making your way over where they are.

The stronger the scent comes, the more overwhelming it pierces through them both. It was distracting in the best way, minds cleared as they relished under the atmosphere the concoction of sweetness it produced. To the yaksha, he was a bit dizzy, tipsy even as his mind floats. And to Venti, it reminded him of home and the breeze the thousand winds carried with him when he was but a sprite.

When you placed down the flowers by the stone rock, you realized that they were standing idly by you in a respectable yet still close distance. They both realized how it clings to you, and you were forced to stay a little longer as Venti chatted you up to make you linger while the other male chose to hang back where he can overlook the Marsh.

They were both charming despite the other's cold exterior, carrying with them their own sense of elegance and beauty. Is it so wrong to like them despite their already existing relationship? You kept to yourself with a blush at the scandalous thought, congratulating them before bidding your farewell.

When you left, the comfort and warmth took off with you. They were both frenzied and are addicted to it, as if you had marked them so violently. No other flower, not even hundreds, can make their hearts both calm and flutter like you do.

Cultivation

Since then, Venti had been visiting frequently and lingering much longer than usual. Xiao would question it at first until he realized the way the Archon seemed very curious of your presence, drifting over to you or dividing his attention when you came into vicinity.

It wasn't hard to miss with the flowery scented aura you carry, your continuous commission with floras had the smell permanently stuck to your adventuring attire. That or you seem to be using a floral detergent for your laundry too.

Once, you've accidentally left an article of clothing by the balcony in your hurry, whether it be a scarf or handkerchief it was easy to miss. And the bard had noticed the discarded garment a bit too late. Is that why your scent lingered despite the fact that you had withdrawn for the night? Xiao keeps it with him to return the next time you came along.

That night, he realized the following night after you received your missing item, was a rare moment of peace with the voices for once quieted down without the help of Venti's songs.

Upon this discovery it would then be him doing the investigation, the curiousity, he'd be more approachable and less guarded. Somehow he had forgotten how normal mortals were affected by their energy but it would seem it isn't that harmful now than it used to before.

One day, they most likely ended up talking about you to each other in passing conversation, and when Venti teased about the idea of them being infatuated to you... they held a pregnant pause at the sudden realization, of the weird intoxication and the similar yearning.

At first they'd be ashamed of the thought that they came to fancy another person when they were already in an existing and steady relationship. But the thought seemed to just be more enticing knowing that the other feels the same way, why be shy over something that you both feel anyways? And besides, humans also partake in far intense concepts of romances.

But it doesn't really start there, it takes them a little more before they finally realized that another one (especially the likes of you) can easily fit in their daily lives. Now the question is, would you wish to be in between two immortals?

Would THEY be willing to invest in a mortal that would one day be engraved as nothing but a painful memory? That they can never revert back to?

Until they realized the capabilities of adeptal energy.

The Grand Plan

The duo does their best to fall into steps over your humane life, understanding you beyond your simple presence, as they continue to soak up the ecstacy. Like two moths drawn to the flame, the citizens around you can see the dynamic. Even before you three's relationship starts, the rumors had spread into established truth. One you were perfectly unaware of.

It was a painful game of tug of war. They would strive for progress before getting pulled back again, still unsure of their decisions and trying to figure it out as they go.

What made them finally pull you into their world of love? Well, cliché as it is, it was their own greed and jealousy upon the sight of other beings of the mortal realm seemingly gravitating to your form everytime. The essence of flowers had imprinted itself to many people that linger around you, pulling them in the same way the two of them had been.

Before the potential suitors could come within your personal space, Venti's arm wraps itself around your waist as he pulls you back into the balcony with surprising strength. And the entrance would be shut as Xiao kicks out the person trying to take your hand.

Next thing you know, you're squeezed in between two twink- cute guys that desperately clings to what they can get hold of you. Your presence may be overwhelming, but you're already so dizzy from the bouts of emotions racing through your mind at the predicament you find yourself in.

It's time to decide if you want in or not.

NSFW bonus: When on a three way, Venti is in front while Xiao is behind, both of them however occupy the same hole.

@kookieyachi @ellitx @struggljng @moaa @dandelion-dreams @witchsungie @zelos-simp @legionqueensav @snackgod @rxsalinee @cala-ran @wind-wheel

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #xiao x Reader #venti x reader #venti x xiao #exile.goblet #exile.flower #sojourner specials #poly #gender neutral

[artnigth]

Migraines Part 3 (Final)

Took longer that I expected to finish this but I made it! This is the final part of this four day project of mine! Enjoy!! 

MIGRAINES PART 3:

It was a lovely spring day, the flower were blooming, bees buzzing, and the fair had just moved into a lovely small-ish town in the middle of Oregon. The fair brought hundreds of shows and games with it, among those hundreds of shows were The Aquatos, a family of acrobats with a taste for danger. Their booth was up and running, the show was about to start. A thirteen-year-old Dion was waiting in the backstage area of the Aquatodome. His legs shaking, his stomach turning and the world was starting to spin. He wasn’t nervous though, he had performed for way bigger audiences in other cities. It was the whispers, voices echoing on his mind, scaring him of the gibberish they were saying. This happened every once in a while but never this strong or whenever his family was about to perform. This made him panic. Frazie and Raz, who were nine and seven years old, were stretching with Donatella. Agustus was checking the nets and safety measures to make sure nothing went wrong. While Nonna was looking after the two youngest kids in the family, Mirtala who was almost three, and Queepie who was just six months old. “Okay Aquatos! Everyone go to your positions were starting this show!”- Donatella sounded determined and excited, like always. Dread filled his system as he walked into the stage alongside two of his siblings, the whispers becoming louder with each step, so much his ears started to ring. Donatella’s voice becoming muted, the world spinning and his skin becoming pale. Nevertheless, the show started.

The show was going well enough, the Aquatos pirouetted and performed like they had all done ever since Dion had memory. Then the final trick of the show rolled around “The Aquato Tower” the voices claimed all of Dion’s attention, he tried his best but the sounds around him became muted, he was standing on his father's shoulders who was standing on his mother's feet who was upsidedown. Dion was balancing Raz on his head, and Raz was supporting Frazie with his arms as she stood upsidedown. Sweat dripped down Dion’s forehead, his head ached enough with the voices, but with his two younger siblings on top of him, the pain became almost unbearable. Now came the final part of the trick that would close the show. Frazie jumped and landed all the way to the right, Raz flipped on his head and proceeded to jump off, landing right next to Frazie. Dion’s turn, his stomach was up on his throat, his mind was breaking and his world was becoming a hurricane of colors and shapes. But he still pulled through, Dion climbed into his father’s head and he jumped. Spinning on the air Dion lost focus for a couple of seconds the feeling of gravity pulling him to the ground snapping him back to reality, Dion landed on his feet right next to Raz. But the world didn’t stop spinning, the voices didn’t stop and his throat threatened to spill all his lunch on the stage. “THANK YOU FOR COMING!!”- his mother’s voice broke his daze, and along with his family, he bowed down and walked back into the backstage. Dion fell on his knees, his breathing unbalanced and too fast for someone his age. His father carried him all the way to the family's caravan and placed the boy on his wore down bed and helped him breathe as Dion passed out. 

Hours passed and in the middle of the night Dion woke up. He saw four of his five siblings sleeping peacefully around him. His youngest sibling was obviously in his cradle that was placed in the living room of the caravan. Dion snuck out of the room to go to the bathroom, stopping in front of his parent's room. The muffled voices of his parents leaking through the door. Dion got closer curious about what they could be arguing about at this hour. 

 “Don’t be ridiculous, he can’t be!” said his father with indignation on his tone.

 “It could be! Augustus, my love. Neither of us knows how the curse could evolve with time. Your mother isn’t explaining anything and Dion was completely fine this morning. He described voices in his head, he could be suffering from a worst version of your family’s curse.” His mother was scared, even though she wasn’t an Aquato by blood the curse could still work on her, though no one except Nonna knew for sure. “Think about it, it’s exactly the type of trick those dammed fortune tellers would pull. Cursing a bloodline to die in water and then turning all generations that follow into people like them. Making the presence of the curse unforgettable, and cursing said children with nightmarish torments, like what’s happening to-

Dion ran down the stair, he wouldn’t let the end of that sentence haunt the rest of his life. He grabbed a bag and began to pack food, water, and some medicine. He finally knew what he was, part of a curse to his family. Well, he wasn’t about to help that fucking curse kill his whole family. Even if it meant never seeing Nonna, his parents, or his siblings ever again, he wouldn’t allow it. Tears were building up in his eyes, he brushed them away with his sleeve. He couldn’t afford to make any noise or to break down at that moment. 

In a hurry Dion let a bottle of water fall on the floor of the living room. He froze, waiting for someone to catch him, for someone to show up and do something to stop him. 

Nothing…

With a sigh, Dion picked up the bottle from the ground and continued his way to the door. “Waaah?” a high-pitched voice sounded behind Dion, Queepie was awake. His small hands rising to try and grab Dion not realizing how far away he really was. Dion turned to look at his youngest brother. His innocent eyes reflecting Dion’s miserable expression. Turning away was hard but Dion barely managed. Queepie saw his oldest brother turning away and started to cry. Queepie was a baby, he was awake and Dion was the only person around. So at the sight of him leaving the baby started to cry. With a hand on the door Dion dropped his bag and pushes it under the small sofa they had. He made his way to the cradle and picked up his brother, trying to calm him down. Eventually, Dion started to softly cry alongside his brother hugging him tight and letting the night pass. Quietly promising to do whatever he could to fix himself, to keep his family together no matter what. 

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Four years had passed since that secret incident, it was a summer morning. Dion and the rest of his siblings were woken up by Mirtala’s sobbing. The little six-year-old held a piece of paper to dear life, and Frazie noticed Razputin was nowhere in sight. “Tala what´s wrong?” Dion stood up to check on Mirtala, half asleep but still very much concerned. Mirtala showed him the note, still bawling her eyes out. He took the note and started to read. Every word from that letter felt like a punch in the gut mixed with a stab in the heart. When he finished he felt numb. In such shock that the concept of his little brother running away to who knows where hadn’t been fully processed. 

“What does it say?!” Frazie said while shaking him out of his daze. Rage was the only feeling he could suddenly feel, he handed Frazie the letter and made his way outside before he took it out on his other siblings. Going down the stair he listened as Frazie screamed from their room out of, rage? sadness? He didn’t know and he couldn’t help anyway so why should he care? When Dion was finally in the living room he proceeded to ignore his parent’s questions and just ran outside. 

 Dion grabbed a stone and threw it into oblivion, doing the same thing with every other rock he found in the valley they had temporarily settled to rest. 

 Tears ran down his face the more rocks he threw, sadness and grief mixed with his rage, the voices coming back as a result. It had been months since he had heard those whispers, he thought he had finally fixed himself. But now they were back and he felt hopeless. He fell to his knees and just sobbed. He failed on the one thing he wanted to make sure he didn’t. One piece of his family was gone and they didn’t even get to know why. Razputin never mentioned where he was going, just that he was done and couldn’t take it anymore. His mother slowly walked out of their caravan and went to check on him. Her eyes red made it obvious she had been crying as well. She knelt next to him and hugged him as he continued to cry in her arms.

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Now he was walking with Gisu in the Forgetful Forest at night, her scarf was placed on his shoulders and they were still holding hands. Gisu’s hair was a pulled-back mess, the only thing keeping it from tangling was her now loose ponytail. His hair wasn’t much better, his ponytail was holding it together but his bangs were a curly mess hanging in front of his face. His eyes were red, he had finally stopped crying, but the tear marks were still fresh on his face. Gisu’s skateboard was following them not far behind, cracks showing in its surface. The whispers were still there, they weren’t leaving this time and Dion knew that. They walked all the way in silence and Dion already suspected that Gisu would probably not want to see him ever again after this mess. The idea almost brought him to tears once again. They were reaching the limit of the forest to the campgrounds where his family was located. Dread built up in him as he saw the people who were there. His mother sitting on the floor being comforted by his father, Frazie was comforting Queepie and Mirtala was checking on Nonna as she sat on a bench looking concerned. Guilt crept into his mind since he just killed his grandmother’s boyfriend. And that was a really weird thought.

 At the sight of his family, Dion stopped walking, stoping Gisu with him. “What’s wrong?” she said in a soft tone. “I can’t… Not after what I did.” He sounded altered, the events of that afternoon coming back to his mind in a painful flash. “C’mon I’m sure your family will be glad that you’re okay. And if something happens I’ll cover your back!” The same soft smirk that she met him with in the clear was placed on her face. That cursed smirk always managed to comfort Dion, he had no idea how. “okay…” They moved forward towards the light from outside the forest. And for the first time in four years, Dion wishes he had actually left on that spring night.

Never has Dion been tackled into a hug by Frazie. His sisters arms crushing his ribcage. “YOU IDIOT, WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN!! QUEEPIE THOUGHT YOU WERE DEAD” Her tone made it obvious that it wasn’t just Queepie who thought that. “I’m sorry Frazie” he hugged her back softly, too tired to come up with a snarky response. Dion looked past Frazie and met Queepies tearful stare. “I’m sorry Queepie.” His youngest brother tackling them both in another hug. “DION AQUATO!!” Augustus’ voice rumbled through the campgrounds, his tome mixed enough that his emotions were impossible to tell. Both of the Aquato parents run and tackle three of their children, by this moment Mirtala quietly joins the hug. 

 “DION!!!” Raz came out of nowhere and kicks his brother in the knee, hard enough to make his presence clear but soft enough to not actually hurt him. Joining his family in the group hug even if for only a second. 

 Nonna stayed close but didn’t join the hug. Ford was nowhere to be seen. Gisu stood at the boundary of the forest glad that this situation didn’t backfire. “Son, why didn’t you tell us?”Augustus’ voice had calmed down and was very concerned. “I… what do you mean?” Dion was confused but he got what his father meant. “Ford ended up landing here and told us everything” Donatella was clearly tired since they had been looking Dion for hours. “… I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” Dion started to cry again, Gisu wondered if he needed a glass of water since he had been crying so much in the last couple of hours. “I didn’t mean to, I didn’t… Nonna I’m so sorry…”

 This took everyone by surprise, why Nonna specifically. He scared all of them half to death after all. “Dion explain yourself.” Frazie was paniking a little. Because, well, Dion disappeared for an entire afternoon. Then Ford finds him and gets thrown all the way to the campgrounds. And finally, Gisu, who looks like she just survived a tornado, finds him broken and desperate. “I… I… I killed Ford cruller…”

Silence 

“What?” everyone said in unison. What did he just say? Killed Ford cruller… “Oh, Dion… You didn’t kill Ford cruller. As I said Ford landed here and told us everything. I don’t think he could have told us you were lost if he was dead.” 

 “What?” Dion was dumbfounded. He should have asked Gisu… He should have definitely asked Gisu. All this time… Literal hours of unending misery, and he didn’t even kill the guy. “Are you sure? A hundred percent sure?” 

 “Unless I’m a ghost their pretty sure, boy.” Ford cruller appeared from the forest and stood next to Gisu. “By the way Razputin, I might be back at my prime as a psychic but I’m still sixty-two years old. I can’t suddenly start sprinting out of nowhere.”

 “I didn’t kill anybody… Good god, I’m the worst.” The Aquatos finally separated the massive group hug and let Dion make his way to Ford. “Agent cruller I’m so sorry for… throwing you all the way here from the forest. And for screaming at you.” Dion meant this, he felt guilty not just for what he did to Ford but for what he did to everyone. “It’s okay boy, I understand. Things are obviously still tense and it’s fine, you’re a teenager I know how hard it can be. Especially as a psychic. Which speaking of...” Ford reached into his pocket and pulled out a small cloth bag. Opening the bag, there were five small purple rocks. Psitanium. Cruller took one out of the bag and placed it on Dion’s hand. “Now focus your mind on this little piece of psitanium. Think of nothing but this little piece.”

 Dion did as he was told, focusing all of his attention on that little piece. The constant whispers fading into the back of his mind, and for the first time in the whole day, Dion felt relief. But now, he needed to face the music. He was truly a psychic and this was his life now. “Did the voices stop?” Asked Ford. “Yes… They’re gone…” 

“Well, here you go.” Ford handed Dion that little bag. “If you or any of your siblings have an issue with their abilities. You can use one of those bad boys to help and dull them down a little.” Dion was speechless, he felt no words would be able to convey how many mixed feelings he had at that moment. “thank you…”

“Mom, can we have dinner now?” Queepie broke the silence. Leave it to a toddler to break the awkward silence. “Yes Queepie, we can have dinner now…”

 Everyone sighed and began to move towards the caravan, with Ford, Dion, and Gisu staying behind. “Gisu, Ford would you like to stay for dinner?” Augustus’ voice was kind of tense but it was mostly kind. “Actually dad… I think Gisu needs to leave. We’ve been taking too much of her time.” Dion’s voice was soft, not rude at all. Gisu knew that. “Yeah… Thank you for the offer but I need to get back home before Sam locks me out.” Gisu understood and started to walk out of the campgrounds. Dion following behind. “I’ll go with her to the bus stop, I’ll be back soon. I promise.” 

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 The campgrounds were left behind them as they walked back to the Motherlobe. They once again walk in silence, an awkward silence this time. Gisu’s scarf was still over Dion’s shoulders. A couple of steps more and she’ll be gone, on a bus to the nearest town over for the night. Dion had so much to say and so little time. 

 “I’m sorry” 

 “For what?”

 “For today, for everything.”

 “Everything?”

 Dion fell silent. This is what he needed to do. After all she did for him, apologizing was the least he could do. “Calling you in the morning to hang out just to dip last minute, almost throwing you into oblivion in the forest, annoying you about my stupid psychic theories… and everything else…” Dion was calm, trying to mentally prepare himself for Gisu’s response. “It’s okay. You don’t need to apologize” “Yes I do! I wasted your time with my stupid crisis. You don’t deserve to be bothered with my issues…” Dion was determined to make his point clear. This was one part of his life he never wanted to regret. “… If I’m here is because I want to be, no one forced me to stay and wait for you. No one forced me to look for you, I wanted to because I care about you, Dion.” Her tone was warm and sad. Gisu’s mind was more at peace about what happened than Dion’s, she knew what her objective was in this whole situation. She just wanted Dion to be okay and she trusted his family to make sure he gets the treatment he needs. 

 They were now on the Motherlobe’s bus stop. The bus would arrive shortly. Dion took Gisu’s scarf and placed it on her shoulders in silence. He grabbed her hair and fixed it into her typical ponytail. He made his way to her bangs and fixed their shape pulling them out of her face. Both of their cheeks tuning a litte red from embarrassment during the process. In the end, Gisu looked like she did at the beginning of the day. “Thank you. For everything.” “What do you mean by everything now?” Gisu said in between giggles. “Just… everything.” 

The bus came to a stop in front of them, the doors opening and the conductor not minding the two teenagers who were having a moment. “I guess you need to go now…” Yeah…” Gisu made her way to the bus and stepped on the entrance. Stopping for a moment and turning around. She pushed Dion's hair out of his face and leaned in, placing a soft kiss on his forehead. Dion was starstruck as he watched Gisu back away and the bus leave the stop heading back to the road. His face slowly turned red and he realizing that he needed to go back to his family. A tough night of conversations was ahead of them. But he knew that maybe tomorrow would be a better day. Tomorrow, he would work his best to be better. 

#dion aquato #headcanon: psychic dion #psychonauts #psychonauts2 #psychonauts razputin #psychonauts gisu #ford cruller

[gojoscloset]

NSFW

Hello, if you are taking requests, would you be okay with writing a gojo satoru x ready scenario when they try out anal? Thank you

———

WARNINGS:

❌SECKS

❌Butt stuff

❌Reposted from other account

❌not proofread lmao

——

“Tada!~” You stood before Satoru with absolutely nothing on, your back turned to him and you glanced over your shoulder, seeing his expression was priceless.

Your ass spread for him, revealing a butt plug right in the center, bright light blue gem glistening in the light with every playful shake of your ass.

You smiled confidently, but inside you were nervous to see how he would take your request. Anal had been on the brain for a while now, and as nervous as you were, you wanted to surprise him and let him know that you thought you were ready to try out something new.

“Well whaddya think?” You broke the silence between you two, apparently you had rendered Satoru speechless. His gaze switched between you and the gem in between your cheeks.

“Y/n….” he muttered and bit his lip, the corners of his lips curled in a sheepish smile. “A-are you sure you wanna do this?” He motioned for you to come to him and you obediently obliged, swaying your hips confidently as you waltzed over to him.

“I do. I really really do. I’ve been stretching for weeks now! I think I’m good where I’m at, but that doesn’t answer my question.” You sat in his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck.

“What do you think?” You repeated playfully, planting a kiss on his cheek. “I think it looks great. You always look great, no matter what you do babe.... But I just...Again. Are you sure?” He wasn’t opposed to the idea, however, he never asked. He always felt as if it was too much to ask his previous partners for that knowing he was well endowed.

He felt that his partners would be in pain,and to him it’s no fun if the other person isn’t into it. You nodded though, with excitement, practically clasping your hands together and with stars in your eyes.

“Pleeease?” You got up from his lap and scurried over to your drawer, pulling out a bottle of lube Satoru wasn’t familiar with. “I even went out and got this.” You shook it excitedly “water based and all.”

You flashed Satoru a smile he couldn’t help but reciprocate. “C'mon…” he motioned you over and he made quick work of his clothes.

—

Satoru didn’t just go at it, no no he’s cultured.

There were various amounts of foreplay, a couple orgasms here and there, yours of course. Teasing , lots and lots of teasing. But the best part about being here with him, and being able to share this experience with him is that even if this all went terribly wrong, you would still have a good time because you shared it with him.

“I’m ready.” You enthusiastically grab the bottle of lube and break the seal from the top. He lies down on his back and pats his thighs signaling you to straddle him.

“I want you to top, so you can set the pace.”

You nodded and made your way to him. The bed creaked some as you placed your knees on either side of him, his cock was rock hard from the earlier activities so not much more needed to be done.

You pop open the top and generously, generously pour a large amount on his throbbing cock. Generously.

Satoru beamed at you and watched as you happily poured away. His large hands rubbed at your thighs, he noticed the effort you put into this.

He took in the little things, how the skin on your legs wes extra smooth. How your smell was different, you smelled sweeter, fruity. The color of the gem you chose intentionally to match his eyes.

He snapped out of his thoughts when you finally touched him, the slick and dirty sounds your hands made when you squeezed and rubbed his shaft was delicious.

“Let me take this out” you relaxed your muscles and pulled the plug out. You positioned yourself after tossing the plug to the side and looked down at Satoru with a smile. You poured lube into your hand and prepared yourself for the big move. Emphasis on big.

“I’m going in” you say teasingly you ease your nerves.

“More like I’m going in” he gave you the finger guns and you slapped his hands away while bursting into laughter.

—

After finally regaining composure you grabbed his cock, you rubbed the tip at your entrance. He gave you bedroom eyes, watching as you carefully took the tip in.

“Take it nice and slow sweetheart…” his hands gripped your thighs, giving them a comforting squeeze. You simply nod and slowly push him in. You bit your lip, feeling yourself stretch tightly around him. Thankfully the lube was doing an amazing job.

It wasn’t until you got to the thickest part of his dick, thicker than the plug you had in earlier, by a lot.

Satoru noticed you were reaching your limit when you slowed down, the sudden face of excitement switched over to concentration, brows knit together, soft groans escaping your lips.

“That’s my girl, you’re doing such a good job.” He panted through clenched teeth. Instinctively he wanted to ram into you animalistically, the lust boiling through his veins, but he had to control himself, he didn’t want to split you in two. Well he did but didn’t.

His words were soft on the ears, his hands sneaked over to yours, locking your fingers with his.

“Take your time baby...take as much time as you need”

It felt like eternity for the both of you but you finally managed to sit down on it. You looked down at your boyfriend, face flushed and aight layer of sweat on your face. You exhaled deeply and lifted a finger, silently asking him to give you a moment before he started moving.

Satoru couldn’t help but smirk, he laid there completely still to avoid making any sudden movements and fucking your night up.

His hands never stopped rubbing your thighs, soothing the slight sting that came with this form of intimacy.

“Just so you know...if this were anyone else I’d be gone by now.” You said with a small laugh at the end of your words.

The little laugh was like sweet sweet honey to his worries. Satoru didn’t even know he had tension until you laughed, he could quite literally feel the weight lift off his shoulders knowing you were still having a good time.

“I’m honored….” his hands again rubbed at your thighs, moving them up to your core. ”more like blessed..”

One thumb parted your lips while the other rubbed circles on your clit, still wet from when he ate you out like a pudding cup earlier.

Your body jerked some and you grabbed his wrists to stop him. “Hold em up!” You squeaked and Satoru stopped all movement.

“One step at a time...I’m-I’m gonna start moving now..” he nodded and watched you, his hand grabbed yours and brought it to his lips, placing a gentle kiss on your knuckles.

The way he filled you up was a completely different experience. You knew his dick would reach areas that the plug could not, but goddamn. It was like you could feel every vein, every curve, every pulse of his cock inside of you. The pulse of his cock made you grow wetter and wetter the longer he was inside.

It wasn’t until you looked at him that you noticed the layer of sweat on his forehead. You let out a chuckle and reached over wiping the beads away.

“Poor baby~” he was holding himself back as best as he could.

“Take your time. Take your time. But I just want you to know, it’s a tight squeeze.” Both of you burst into laughter “okay okay, moving for reals this time”

You lifted your hips up, pulling him out slowly, but not all the way out, just enough to get something going.

“Satoru…” you whine, he groaned in response, wanting you to know he too could feel the pleasure.

The stinging wasn’t so bad after a few thrusts, you finally fully relaxed around him, making it a lot easier for you to get a rhythm going.

However, despite you getting the rhythm going, Satoru laid there stiff as a board. “Toru…..touch me” you groaned grabbing his hands and you placed them on your breasts

“You can move now…just go slow”

His face lit up almost instantly, and his mouth was now a grin. The once concentrated expression was now a goofy one.

“That’s all you had to say…” he didn’t even know where to begin. Your breasts? Your clit? He was going to have to spin the wheel of fortune for this one.

—

Satoru sat up now, mouth latched onto your nipple, tongue flicking the nub skillfully. You were covered in his markings, intentionally he left a trail from your neck down in between your breasts , claiming you as his, nothing new though.

His nails dug into your hips, leaving stinging crescents into your skin, but all good deeds don’t go unpunished.

You clawed at his back, leaving streaks and trails of fresh wounds down his back.

“Toru...go harder.” Again, that was all he needed to hear. “Here, let me give you what you want...let me give you what you need…” he growled.

His fingers ran across your slit, coating them with your juices before sticking them inside. Satoru swirled his fingers around in a circular motion creating friction and rubbing that delicious spot with both his cock and digits.

“AH!” Your back arched at the foreign sensation, but your body craved more of it. You bounced on him, juices leaking on his thighs and onto the sheets, but you didn’t care, you needed release.

“Don’t stop!” You cried out when his thumb pressed against your clit, pushing you over the edge. This was Satoru’s favorite part, seeing your face and body wrench in pleasure due to his touch. His fingers. His cock. It was all because of him and the very concept of that made his body feel like it was on fire.

He watched as your body tensed up, watched as you threw your head back, completely lost in the bliss that he provided specifically for you. His eyes were blown and he looked at you like you were the one who hung the stars, the one who made the flowers bloom in the spring, like if the world was specifically made just for you.

Your body shook and twitched around him, Pussy creaming down his fingers as they slowed their pace, thumb still circling your nub, he’d rather overstim you then to cut it short.

However it wasn’t long until your body Couldn’t take anymore, your thighs threatening to close but he held them open until he made sure you were good.

Circles still being traced carefully on your clit, more and more arousal leaking out of you as he did.

“Okay okay okay okay!” You squeaked and grabbed his wrists to stop him.

“You sure?” He let out a chuckle and pulled his fingers out of you, they were coated in your fluids up to the knuckles, strings of stickiness attached to his fingers when he spread them apart.

He didn’t hesitate to put them in his mouth, sucking and licking off your fluids hungrily like a man who hasn’t eaten in days.

“Always so tasty for me” he cooed and moved his body carefully so he was now hovering over you. His hands hooked behind your knees and pushed them as far up as he could while looking into your eyes.

“Give me more.” he whispered.

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk headcanons #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen #satoru gojo #gojo x y/n #gojo x reader #satoru gojō x reader #Nasty Nept✨

[bookjonsa]

Hi! :) In ASoS, Jon asks Ygritte about her lost of virginity. He thinks that she losted it with Longspear, and she responds something like "that's vile. Would you bed your sister?". Jon just avoids the question. I don't know, but I feel like this entire dialogue wasn't neccesary at all. Based in the Jon's reaction, could be this a hint about his true parentage? Could Jon, because of that, actually bed a "sister"? Maybe I´m just delusional haha but I would like to know another opinion about it.

Hi! :)

This is the passage you mention:

"There's been no one," he confessed. "Only you."

"A maid," she teased. "You were a maid."

He gave her closest nipple a playful pinch. "I was a man of the Night's Watch." Was, he heard himself say. What was he now? He did not want to look at that. "Were you a maid?"

Ygritte pushed herself onto an elbow. "I am nineteen, and a spearwife, and kissed by fire. How could I be maiden?"

"Who was he?"

"A boy at a feast, five years past. He'd come trading with his brothers, and he had hair like mine, kissed by fire, so I thought he would be lucky. But he was weak. When he came back t' try and steal me, Longspear broke his arm and ran him off, and he never tried again, not once."

"It wasn't Longspear, then?" Jon was relieved. He liked Longspear, with his homely face and friendly ways.

She punched him. "That's vile. Would you bed your sister?"

"Longspear's not your brother."

"He's of my village. You know nothing, Jon Snow. A true man steals a woman from afar, t' strengthen the clan. Women who bed brothers or fathers or clan kin offend the gods, and are cursed with weak and sickly children. Even monsters."

"Craster weds his daughters," Jon pointed out.

She punched him again. "Craster's more your kind than ours. His father was a crow who stole a woman out of Whitetree village, but after he had her he flew back t' his Wall. She went t' Castle Black once t' show the crow his son, but the brothers blew their horns and run her off. Craster's blood is black, and he bears a heavy curse." She ran her fingers lightly across his stomach. "I feared you'd do the same once. Fly back to the Wall. You never knew what t' do after you stole me."

Jon sat up. "Ygritte, I never stole you."

"Aye, you did. You jumped down the mountain and killed Orell, and afore I could get my axe you had a knife at my throat. I thought you'd have me then, or kill me, or maybe both, but you never did. And when I told you the tale o' Bael the Bard and how he plucked the rose o' Winterfell, I thought you'd know to pluck me then for certain, but you didn't. You know nothing, Jon Snow." She gave him a shy smile. "You might be learning some, though."

—A Storm of Swords - Jon III

There is a lot to say about this passage.  I think this conversation illustrates how different Jon and Ygritte were, how different their cultures and values were.  And yes, I think here we can find hints about Jon’s true parentage.     

Yes, Jon avoids the question, but Ygritte avoids the question first.  And that was because Ygritte and Jon managed two different concepts of kin, in this case, brothers and sisters.  That’s why Ygritte is constantly saying: “You know nothing, Jon Snow."  But the line works both ways really. 

Jon asked Ygritte who was her first sexual partner, and he was glad it wasn’t Longspear, that’s why Jon asked again: "It wasn't Longspear, then?"  And Ygritte instead of saying “no”, said; "That's vile. Would you bed your sister?"  And that’s why Jon said: "Longspear's not your brother.", avoiding to answer Ygritte’s question about bedding his sister. 

For Ygritte, a boy from her village was her brother, her clan kin.  That concept doesn’t work for Jon, who could have married (and bedded) a girl like Jeyne Poole for example, a girl that grew up in Winterfell with him, but she is not a Stark, so she is not his sister, despite being a girl from Winterfell.  For Ygritte that would have been vile.  And I bet that Ygritte would have even said that a marriage between two Stark cousins, like Rickard and Lyarra, would be vile.  

The same thing happened when Ygritte started to talk about wildlings marriage rituals and consent.  For Ygritte, Jon stole her the day they met, while Jon insisted that he never stole her.

Jon sat up. "Ygritte, I never stole you."

"Aye, you did.  “You jumped down the mountain and killed Orell, and afore I could get my axe you had a knife at my throat. I thought you'd have me then, or kill me, or maybe both, but you never did.”

Something similar happened to Sansa the day of the Battle of the Blackwater.  Cersei told Sansa about the blood lust that war provokes in men, and later that night she found a man that left the battle, went to her room, pushed her on bed put a dagger at her throat and demanded a song (a sexual innuendo used by the author) under threat of death.  This was basically the same situation Ygritte described as Jon stealing her.  But Jon would have seen that as a rape attempt, never as a marriage ritual.  And Jon definitely didn’t steal Ygritte the day they met, he thought she was a man and he was about to kill her as he would have killed any man of the enemy lines during a fight or battle.           

I don’t think this dialogue was unnecessary, the author has used it to tell us about the evident differences between Ygritte and Jon, and in a more subtle way, he has used this conversation to tell us about Jon’s true parentage as the son of a Targaryen prince and a Stark maid.

Hints about Jon’s Targaryen parentage: 

“Women who bed brothers or fathers or clan kin offend the gods, and are cursed with weak and sickly children. Even monsters."   

This is true about Targaryen members.  They married and bedded brothers and sisters, and that practice affected the Targaryen women health and fertility.  In Fire and Blood, we can find a lot of Targaryen young girls that were weakened with every pregnancy and at the end they ended up dying in childbirth and/or giving birth sickly children or stillborn twisted and malformed babies.  

This happened with Rhaella: 

Following Rhaegar's birth, Rhaella and Aerys had multiple trouble where childbirth was concerned. In the seventeen years following Rhaegar's birth, Rhaella went through multiple pregnancies, stillbirths and miscarriages:

-miscarriage in 263 AC -miscarriage in 264 AC -Princess Shaena Targaryen, born in 267 AC, stillborn -Prince Daeron Targaryen, born in 269 AC, lived only half a year -stillbirth in 270 AC, gender and name of child unknown -miscarriage in 271 AC -Prince Aegon Targaryen, born in 272 AC, born two months premature, died in 273 AC -Prince Jaehaerys Targaryen, born in 274 AC, died later that same year -Prince Viserys Targaryen, born in 276 AC  -Princess Daenerys Targaryen, born in 284 AC                                     

[Source]

And Daenerys: 

-Rhaego was stillborn and malformed

[Source]

Jon’s father, Rhaegar Targaryen, had not fertility problems tho, and Jon was healthy enough to survive.  

Hints about Jon’s Stark parentage:

“And when I told you the tale o' Bael the Bard and how he plucked the rose o' Winterfell, I thought you'd know to pluck me then for certain, but you didn't. You know nothing, Jon Snow.”

But Ygritte was not a Rose of Winterfell.  The Rose of Winterfell is a clear reference to Jon’s mother, Lyanna Stark: 

“You said you were the Bastard o’ Winterfell.” “I am.” “Who was your mother?” “Some woman. Most of them are.” Someone had said that to him once. He did not remember who. She smiled again, a flash of white teeth. “And she never sung you the song o’ the winter rose?” “I never knew my mother. Or any such song.” “Bael the Bard made it,” said Ygritte. “He was King-beyond-the-Wall a long time back. (…) “Well, long before he was king over the free folk, Bael was a great raider.” (…) “The Stark in Winterfell wanted Bael’s head, but never could take him, and the taste o’ failure galled him. One day in his bitterness he called Bael a craven who preyed only on the weak. When word o’ that got back, Bael vowed to teach the lord a lesson. So he scaled the Wall, skipped down the kingsroad, and walked into Winterfell one winter’s night with harp in hand, naming himself Sygerrik of Skagos. Sygerrik means ‘deceiver’ in the Old Tongue, that the First Men spoke, and the giants still speak.” “North or south, singers always find a ready welcome, so Bael ate at Lord Stark’s own table, and played for the lord in his high seat until half the night was gone. The old songs he played, and new ones he’d made himself, and he played and sang so well that when he was done, the lord offered to let him name his own reward. ‘All I ask is a flower,’ Bael answered, ‘the fairest flower that blooms in the gardens o’ Winterfell.’” “Now as it happened the winter roses had only then come into bloom, and no flower is so rare nor precious. So the Stark sent to his glass gardens and commanded that the most beautiful o’ the winter roses be plucked for the singer’s payment. And so it was done. But when morning come, the singer had vanished … and so had Lord Brandon’s maiden daughter. Her bed they found empty, but for the pale blue rose that Bael had left on the pillow where her head had lain.” Jon had never heard this tale before. (…) “Lord Brandon had no other children. At his behest, the black crows flew forth from their castles in the hundreds, but nowhere could they find any sign o’ Bael or this maid. For most a year they searched, till the lord lost heart and took to his bed, and it seemed as though the line o’ Starks was at its end. But one night as he lay waiting to die, Lord Brandon heard a child’s cry. He followed the sound and found his daughter back in her bedchamber, asleep with a babe at her breast.” “Bael had brought her back?” “No. They had been in Winterfell all the time, hiding with the dead beneath the castle. The maid loved Bael so dearly she bore him a son, the song says … though if truth be told, all the maids love Bael in them songs he wrote. Be that as it may, what’s certain is that Bael left the child in payment for the rose he’d plucked unasked, and that the boy grew to be the next Lord Stark. So there it is—you have Bael’s blood in you, same as me.”

—ACOK - Jon VI

The tale of Bael the Bard and the Rose of Winterfell resembles Jon’s own story: Bael the Bard, a king, and Rhaegar Targaryen, a prince, both harp players, “abducted” a Stark maid, Brandon’s daughter and Lyanna, ‘the fairest flower that blooms in the gardens o’ Winterfell’.  Rhaegar also crowned Lyanna as the Queen of Love and Beauty with blue winter roses, and they procreated a “bastard” son, Jon Snow. Lyanna died after giving birth to Jon, and the memories of that tragic even haunted Ned, who remembers Lyanna’s bleeding in bed and the blue winter roses.

And here is the best part, because it turns out that Jon actually bedded a girl that was his kin:

“So there it is—you have Bael’s blood in you, same as me.”

Ygritte tried to allure Jon with the tale of Bael the Bard and the Rose of Winterfell, but according to this tale Bael and the Rose joined both people, Wildlings and Starks, as kin.  And that’s why Ygritte said to Jon:  “You have Bael’s blood in you, same as me.”     

¡That’s vile!  ¡You know nothing Ygritte! 

So there you have it, Jon Snow bedded a redhead, blue eyed, half-fish girl that, in a broad sense, was also his sister. 

¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Thank you for your ask.

#jonsa #bael the bard and the rose of winterfell #rhaegar x lyanna #ygritte as sansa's foil #anon asks

[omgrachwrites]

Tell a Tale of You and Me - Chapter Twenty

Pairing: Sirius Black x Reader

Summary: You knew that making a bet with Sirius Black was like making a deal with the devil but you just couldn’t help yourself. You had never been a heavenly woman.

Warnings: fluff, mentions of sex

Words: 2169

A/N: I have to reward you guys for putting up with all the angst so here you go! There will only be 2/3 more parts of this! Hope you guys enjoy and please let me know what you think and let me know if you would like to be tagged! I love you all! xxx

Chapter Twenty

There was complete silence in the church, even Sirius’ mother was silent, and perhaps she had died from the shock, that thought almost made you giggle. Time seemed to slow down as you looked at the beautiful man who had just burst in. When you asked what he was doing he hesitated and he looked at you with so much fear that it broke your heart. You glanced at Lily and your friends who were staring at Sirius and your eyes moved over to the opposite side of the church. Walburga was – unfortunately – still alive though her face was steadily growing red.

You looked up at Regulus to find that his eyebrows were knitted together as he frowned at his brother but you could see a hint of sympathy hidden within his eyes, “Sirius?” Regulus prompted and Sirius jumped, almost as if he had been startled.

“I’m sorry Regulus,” Sirius sighed before he looked over at you, “I had to come, I had to say this, you can tell me to leave but please hear me out. Please Y/N.”

His voice was so pleading that you found yourself nodding, you were really curious about what he had to say, “okay.”

Sirius gave you a grateful smile, “thank you, you look beautiful by the way,” he chuckled, making you blush, after all this time he still had the power to make you blush, “I love you Y/N and I’m sorry that’s it’s taken me so long to say it out loud. I don’t deserve you, I never have, you and Regulus will be the perfect couple and I have no doubt in my mind that he’ll make you happy. My brother is a great man. Whatever you choose, I will love you till the day I die but please, consider choosing me. Reg, I’m so sorry but I love her, so much that it almost hurts.”

Sometime during Sirius’ speech tears had escaped your eyes and they were running over your lips in great torrents, you just knew it was ruining your makeup. You loved him too, every feeling that Sirius had towards you was completely and utterly returned.

Before you could answer there came a high pitched scream, “you beast! Get out, get out before you ruin this beautiful day!” Sirius flinched at his mother’s harsh words.

“Mother,” Regulus said in a warning tone and Walburga fell silent. Regulus let out a deep breath as he turned to face you, taking your hands in his, his eyes were sad and soft around the edges. You suddenly remembered that this was his wedding day too, it wasn’t just yours, “how do you feel about Sirius? Do you love him?”

There was no way that you could deny your feelings for Sirius any longer, “yes, I do, with all my heart.”

Regulus sighed sadly and turned back to face his brother, walking down the steps that led up to the altar. Sirius almost shrank back as Regulus grew closer, “I heard what you said to Lily last night, that you weren’t going to come and that you wanted to give Y/N and I a proper chance,” Sirius nodded in confirmation and you frowned, you had no idea that Lily had even spoken to Sirius, “but I know now that both you and Y/N will be miserable for the rest of your lives. I can’t bring that upon you two; you’re both much too important to me. You too should be together; you were clearly made for one another.”

For a moment, your brain almost short circuited as you felt the happiness bloom in your chest, you couldn’t quite believe that Regulus was doing this for the both of you, he was so kind, “Regulus, you’ll be miserable. Nobody can win here.”

The guests were watching the interactions between the three of you like it was a stage show. Regulus smiled at you and he shook his head as he kissed your forehead, “I’ll be happy knowing that you’re happy. Besides, I know you don’t feel the same way about me, thank you for trying but I don’t want the rest of our lives to be built on a lie,” you nodded, feeling sick and feeling guilty.

Regulus turned away from you and walked up to Sirius, pulling him into a tight hug. You could see Sirius’ shoulders shaking and sure enough, when the brothers pulled away Sirius was crying, “will you have me Y/N? I can’t offer much but I can love you and I will never let you go again.”

You smiled as you felt tears prick at your eyes, Merlin, how you loved him. However, before you could run to him, Walburga spoke up again.

“No! I will not let this happen!”

“Mother!” Regulus shouted his face uncharacteristically hard, “for once, can you just be quiet?”

Walburga gave her youngest – her favourite – son a shocked scowl before she pointed an accusing finger at your parents, “and you two! What do you have to say about this?”

There was a pause and your mother smiled at you, “we want our daughter to do what makes her the happiest. We didn’t know that she felt so strongly about Sirius.”

You smiled gratefully at your parents while Walburga sputtered and gasped, her face now stark white. She stormed to the church doors and gave Sirius a nasty look but with Regulus’ arm around his shoulders, he stood tall and defiant. When she was gone, Sirius repeated her question, he seemed so more confident, much like his normal self.

“How about it, Y/L/N?” he smirked as he gestured to himself.

You rolled your eyes slightly as you ran down the aisle and you all but jumped into his warm and waiting arms, giggling as everyone cheered and Remus shouted, “finally!”

Sirius cupped your rosy cheeks and he gazed at you with complete adoration in his gorgeous eyes, this had turned out to be the happiest day of your life, “Merlin, you look so beautiful; I firmly believe that I’m the happiest man in the world. You know, this is a bit forward but to hell with it, we shouldn’t waste a good wedding. Will you marry me, right here and now? I know that you’re the one.”

You rested your hands on your chest, you wanted to marry him but not like this, “no Sirius,” you continued when his handsome face fell, “you’re the one for me too and I would love to marry you  but your mum organise this whole day. I had no say in it, when we do get married I would like for us both to organise it. You don’t have to take anything from your hag of a mother, not anymore, especially not a wedding.

Sirius’ eyes sparkled and shone, creasing at the edges as he smiled at you, “I love you so much,” he pulled you closer by the skirts of your dress. The champagne material was bunched up in his hands as he captured your lips in a passionate and hungry kiss. He swallowed your moan as you curled your fingers through his soft hair.

The guests were whooping and cheering but they sounded so far away, almost like they were underwater. You paid no attention to them; all you were focused on was Sirius’ gorgeous lips and his thick stubble brushing against your lips. When he pulled away your lips felt swollen and tingly, and you felt a little bit dazed. Grinning, Sirius swopped you up in his arms bridal style, you giggled and pressed a kiss to his cheek as everyone laughed.

“For those of you who were only here for the alcohol then never fear! The Three Broomsticks had been reserved just for us!” Regulus called out happily, being replied with cheers and yells. He sounded happy but you could hear the strained sadness in his voice.

It was a bit of a struggle to get everyone to the reception but it was completely worth it. The pub and the garden had been decorated so beautifully, it was your parents who had done it; it was like something out of a fairy tale. There were roses everywhere and the air was alive with the sweet smell of honeysuckle as bees hummed lazily over the flowers and fairies were flying in and out of the flowering shrubs, giggling as they did so. A large white marquee had been set up in the middle of the green lawn. It reminded you of a legend you had read once, about a King who ruled over Camelot.

Sirius looked around in awe, his handsome face lighting up in wonder, “let’s get this party started shall we?”

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

The reception – and Sirius’ girlfriend – was beautiful, the pub had been decorated to perfection, Y/N’s parents had done a really great job. Sirius grinned as he walked out into the blazing sun with a round of ice cold Firewhisky’s mixed with pumpkin juice. It sounded like a weird concept but it turned out to be delicious. He pressed a kiss to Y/N’s cheek – he was so happy that they didn’t have to sneak around together anymore – and she beamed at him as she plucked a glass from the tray and took a long gulp of her drink.

“I reckon that they’ll be the first of us to get married,” Y/N smiled, her face lighting up as she pointed at the middle of the marquee where James and Lily were dancing.

Sirius grinned as he watched his best mate dance with the love of his life and Sirius wondered whether he should tell Y/N the secret, “don’t say anything to Lily but me and the boys have already been to look at engagement rings with James. He’s going to propose soon.”

Y/N gasped happily, her eyes filling up with tears as she rested her head on Sirius’ chest and Sirius smiled down at her, wrapping his arm around her waist.

“Hey, congratulations you two,” Morgana grinned as she made her way over with Remus who was holding their baby daughter in his arms.

“Thank you,” Y/N giggled and hugged Morgana, “who would have thought that we would have ended up here?” she asked, smiling and looking up at Sirius like he was her entire world. He was hopelessly in love.

“I knew you would,” Remus grinned, “it was painfully obvious from the start of 7th year that you were each other’s soulmates.”

Remus’ words were so lovely; all that Sirius and Y/N could do was smile and gaze at each other.

The party grew more and more raucous, and Sirius felt drunk and giddy, he hadn’t even drank that much. His happiness had a big impact on how he was feeling. Sirius had danced with everyone, even Professor – Minerva – McGonagall who was now red faced from all the sherry she had been drinking. Sirius was having such a good time but he just wished that he could whisk Y/N away; he didn’t want to be impolite. Remus and Morgana had been the first ones to leave due to them having a new born so Sirius supposed that at least they weren’t the first ones to leave.

He smirked as he spied Y/N standing alone at the bar and he sauntered up to her, wrapping his arms around her waist from behind, grinning at her surprised gasp. He moved his lips down to her ear as he moved his hands downwards, “I can’t wait to get you all to myself,” he almost growled as he pressed a kiss to her shoulder.

Y/N hummed happily as she pressed herself against him and she turned to face him, she cupped his jaw, running her nails over his jaw gently, causing Sirius to get goose bumps. She leaned in, as if to kiss him and Sirius could hear the blood pumping in his ears. Y/N smirked as she stopped, an inch away from his lips, “then what are we waiting for?” she fluttered her eyelashes and Sirius almost felt his eyes darken with lust, “let’s get out of here while everyone is preoccupied.”

Y/N grinned at Sirius as she walked out of the en suite with the linen sheet wrapped around her, and she got right back into the warm bed. It was about 6am, they had made love all night, they had told each other that they were making up for lost time but Sirius hoped that they had made a baby.

Y/N ran a gentle hand down his stomach as she rested her chin on his chest, “I’m the happiest that I’ve ever been. The day that I had always been dreading turned out to be the best day of my life. I love you Sirius.”

Sirius grinned lazily as he smoothed his fingers through her wild and tangled hair, “it was a day that I had been dreading too, I love you so much,” he kissed her lips, “thank you for choosing me,” he whispered against her lips.

“I’ll always choose you Sirius.”

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

@approved-by-dentists​ @thefuturelawyer​ @a-miserable-hufflepunk​ @firelordmillie​ @seriouslysiriuss​ @sleep-i-ness​ @play-morezeppelin​ @pregnant-piggy​ @sleepingalaska​ @smiithys​ @blisfvll​ @rexorangecouny​ @findzelda​ @wangmangagavroche​ @the-moon-and-the-book​ @hxrgreeves​ @ghostofstudentspast​ @they-write-once-in-a-blue-moon​ @my-unique-mind​ @im-an-angel-of-the-lord-you-ass​ @acciovisio​ @obsessedwithrandomthings​ @kashishwrites​ @fific7​ @blackbirddaredevil23​ @siriusblackspam​ @mads-bri​ @lilulo-12fanfiction​ @mrspadfoot4​ @tinymalscoffee​ @ur-riddikulus​ @obsssedwithjustaboutanything​ @ourloveisforthelovely​

#sirius #sirius black #sirius orion black #pads #padfoot #moony wormtail padfoot and prongs #sirius black fluff #sirius black fanfiction #sirius black x reader #sirius black x reader insert #sirius black x you #sirius black x y/n #you x sirius black #sirius x reader #sirius x reader insert #sirius x you #sirius x y/n #you x sirius #james potter #lily evans #james x lily #jily #remus lupin #dad!remus #peter pettigrew #regulus black #walburga black #minerva mcgonagall #fluff #the marauders

[itsgrishaverse]

DEVIL TEARS ♞ MICHAEL LANGDON 002.

heavily inspired by favorite book; au. without losing the sense of the main canon character.

Summary; As unpredictable as a dream, Michael Langdon shares an intimate moment with the enemy at the edge of his death. It woke up a certain curiosity — and possibly obsession with you.

this is so short because, I want to see if it’s a good idea and if you all will like it! certainly it will turn into a fic so if you’d like to be in the taglist, let me know.

Favorited by the gods was a concept out of her hands. Favorited would mean to be special, to believe in any kind of speciality would refer to the existence of any God. She didn’t believe in either. The woman with gold eyes; as bright as the sun, was a dreamer. That’s what she often told herself. Enough to believe it. A dreamer didn’t always control what was shown, a dreamer didn’t have to explain herself or abilities. There was an underlying pleasure feeling at the thought of no explanation, belonging to no one, being no one. Even if it was farther away from the truth. How long could one pretend? A dreamer could also stop dreaming, she whispered.

It all went back to that night, no matter how busy or tired you found yourself. It chased you like a starving dream ━━ only that it wasn’t one. It was real. It happened, and every time that you allowed yourself to think about that certain event, it became more real than possible. Like a part of you; a flower, the thought crossed your mind. Blooming inside you.

The possibility of how such events would’ve turned out if you didn’t save that man’s life also crossed your mind. It has been six months already and yet... the sensation of his fingers against your skin wouldn’t leave you. How tight his grasp remained as you hunched down, examining his wound. It was firm, tight, impatient yet hopeful. Wide dilated pupils looking at you. He clung to you as if his life depended on it. And that night, it did. The world became unstable, lost in an ocean of bones and smoke even before the day you were born. Your kind against the crows. A group; no. Legion of people that found pleasure in power and control and a certain liking for degrading, making your kind their servants. Rumors that they bonded with witchcraft also ran in the wind. That’s how you met earth, that’s how you lived in it and that would be too how you left it the day that your soul escaped your body. Everyone would die, eventually. Others did it sooner than their time. Unfortunately. Others’ death visited in your dreams before it happened. It was a painful promise and while fate couldn’t be always avoided, you still allowed them the knowledge of how you saw them dying. To prevent anything.

Sometimes they would ask you if you’ve dreamt of your own death. You never answered.

Walking in your room with thoughts still bringing down walls of your mind, the clothes you often wore were easily discarded. A pair of tight black jeans which matched with the buttoned up shirt and the coat. It was something worn whenever it meant going outside because of duty. As soon as you turned around, the sight of a red wine dress laid out in your bed caught your attention. It carried a note with simple words. “Wear it. It’s not from me, but him. How adorable and considerate of him, right? Red is your favorite.” The handwritten let it known that your mother has written it —— and she was talking about the man she always brought up whenever you were around. One of the high family’s son and future leader in your clan, after your father, if he happened to be absent one day. The fact the man who would arise from someone close to you’s death had the courage to court you made it kind of morbid. Yet, nothing would change when it came down to rules embedded for so long. His name was Duncan.

Inside bathroom, in the bathtub filled with warm water, muscles relaxed. Your body welcomed it as well as your mind. A breath of peace. One hand was raised in front of you out of instinct, long fingers stained by dry blood mark you. It wasn’t yours, but someone else’s who was found out in the streets a couple of hours ago. Begging for help. Matthew and someone else hurried over as soon you called them, both of your hands pressing against his wound in an attempt to prevent him from bleeding out. He didn’t make it. Those last words still rang in your ears. He whispered “crows.” Crows. Crows did that and they would keep doing it. No matter what. It was either them or you.

But was it always like that? Adversaries? The night you found one man from the opposite clan laying down on the floor, bleeding out. The night you chose to keep it a secret to save his life, it wasn’t him against you. It was him and you.

flashback.

Slow, yet steady steps alarmed Michael Langdon about someone else’s presence in the building. He was on the edge of dozing off at the tiredness and the constant pain digging into his side. A wound caused by a quick shift and blade, someone else who has been skilled enough to reach him. That night was one of the bloodiest he had witnessed, his people were dead as well as everyone else who stepped inside that place. Not even three hours later. He remained on the cold floor, his shoulders against the wall. Between keeping himself awake and not dying, his mask has been taken off. Dropped by his side, revealing golden silk long curls, sticking to his forehead by sweat. The masks they wore whenever out in public were in the shape of a crow. You never took them off to reveal your identity, that was one rule written by him, the main representative and leader. Rule which was broken by himself. Everyone was dead either way.

Three minutes later. As expected he caught the glimpse of someone else’s figure wandering around. Hunched down before one of the bodies only a few feet away from him. Uncertain of whatever they were doing to them, his right hand gripped his own blade weakly. He couldn’t do much, but it didn’t mean that there wouldn’t be an attempt to have a worthy death. For him and his position. Four minutes. He observed the figure stand up this time, turning to face him. As eyes met through dim lights, confusion hit him as surprised must have hit the other. A female. She froze in her place, it made him guess she certainly didn’t expect someone to be alive at this point—— the fact it was probably the first time she had seen someone without their mask didn’t cross his mind that second. It was because of both reasons.

She didn’t move. It sent a cold shiver through his spine not knowing when she’d attack him. If he blinked once, would they still stand there? If blinked twice, would they then attack him? He didn’t blink, but attempted to speak. His voice came out hoarsely. “I’m ready.” Why for? He didn’t know. “I’m ready for death.”

That certainly did catch her attention, enough that she stepped closer —- hesitantly, and lowered close enough to the body by his side. Wait. What the hell was she doing? Ignoring him? “Well.” Her accented voice reached his ears. His head turned to cast her another glance, keeping blues on her. She ran one hand along the corpse’s chest as if looking for something. Another wave of confusion hit him. It must have been one of her people, as soon as he saw her taking a necklace from them. “I am not. Death must be really boring, don’t you think? For young people like us. If you are as young as you seem. I wouldn’t recommend it.”

Michael couldn’t see his own face at the moment, but he was certain he probably looked perplexed. Because he was. Everything made him feel dizzy, uncertain of its way. If there was something he was certain about, apparently, was that he having a conversation with someone who was supposed to kill him the first time they saw him. And he, attacked them. Or probably use her as a way to save his own life. His thoughts were snapped out upon catching her hunching down before him this time, his breath caught. Fingers tightening around the material of the blade. Her neck was exposed, how easily it would be stab her and kill her there, immediately. He would die, but at least he would’ve taken another life with him.

“Show me your injury.”

“So you can make it worse?”

“No.” She shook her head and he found himself wanting to run his fingers through her hair. How stupid of him. Irrational. “So I can heal it.”

“Why would you do that?” He mocked with a brief breath. Allowing a smile, but it looked more like a grimace. “I am not your friend.”

She seemed thoughtful at his previous words and for a second, Michael thought that they might have changed their mind. But instead, a surprised grunt left his lips at her following actions. He felt her reaching out for him; her fingers touched his briefly, pulling his own hand away from the wound he has been pressing on. Lifting up his shirt.

“That doesn’t look good at all. I will have to clean it and you will be quiet for me, think you can do that?”

“How do you know I won’t kill you as you try to heal me?” Michael pressed on as if awaiting for a possible reaction out of her. She just gave him another glance; locking eyes, before looking down at his wound again.

“I don’t. But then, you’d be a hell of an idiot. If I die, you die here. Now I need you to—-“ Whatever she did, it earned a loud wince from the blond male. He deserved it. He knew it. And so did she, by the small smile that hid at corners of lips. He saw that. “To stay quiet.” She added.

The next consisted of him gripping onto her. Long fingers wrapped up around her arm as if he craved to feel something close to him. Perhaps they did. There was an odd feeling of comfort. Shown by kindness for the first time, Michael Langdon just didn’t know that yet.

“Y/N!” Someone else’s voice echoed in the room from the other room. Close to the door . Catching both of them by surprise. She was quick to glance behind her, before turning her attention back on him. “Where are you?”

“Don’t say anything. Don’t make any noise.” She whispered to Michael, her hand gave his hand a gentle squeeze before letting go. Perhaps that’s what surprised him the most. She knew he could die there too if someone else found him before he managed to find a way out. Perhaps that was her way of saying farewell. “I will leave with them and you will be able to get out of here.”

That was the last time he saw her. And she left without being aware Michael Langdon’s life was saved, the reason of everyone’s wrath.

After the warm shower, you stood before the mirror. Dressed in the gifted red dress, which complimented your figure and curves. Tonight it was meant to be special, it was the first moonlight festival. A celebration where upcoming weddings were announced. A lovely evening to be courted by someone. A fitting evening to be someone else in the masquerade ball. You told yourself that tonight, that’s what you would do. Forget about the things that have been haunting you for so long and welcome open doors for the future. And maybe, finally, meet the handsome man who has been kind enough to give you a present. It would be a change, maybe for better.

What you would find out later was that the same blond male whose life you’ve saved six months ago and somehow found its way back into your mind, wandered around the same place as you those exact same minutes. In your home, amongst your people, hiding behind a bird mask. Observing, searching for something —— looking for you.

#michael langdon x reader #michael langdon x you #cody fern #michael langdon #ahs fandom #fanfic #ahs apocolaypse #drasangel writers

[theheartsmistakes]

The Last Night Part XXI

A/N at the End:

Parts I-XIX:

Here is Part I

Here is Part II

Here is Part III

Here is Part IV

Here is Part V

Here is Part VI

Here is Part VII

Here is Part VIII

Here is Part IX

Here is Part X

Here is Part XI

Here is Part XII

Part XIII

Part XIV

Part XV

Part XVI

Part XVII

Part XVIII

Part XIX

Part XX

.XXI.

The cluster of ewes kept a respectful distance on their side of the fence, heads lifted now and then to watch the pair walking along the empty country road. Cordelia avoided a rather large puddle, filled over with dark murky water, and resumed her step with James on the other side. They were losing the light, and the setting sun had tinged the clouds a golden rose that glowed against the cold flat blue of the dusk.

James, tucked his hands into his pockets and resumed his guided tour. “I’m terribly sorry about having to abandon the carriage. It’s never clear how the wheels are going to weather the roads after a storm.”

“Another added to perk to Algernon,” said Cordelia.

“I’ll pretend you never said that and that you didn’t just use its given name. Matthew needs no further encouragement” said James and nudged her with his shoulder. “You know, Magnus owns this whole estate?”

“Really?” Cordelia looked across the narrow, feudal fields of rich red earth and verdant pasture sloping gently down from either side to form the shallow valley of the village, thinking how furious her father would have been to know that a Downworlder owned all of this. He hated the concept of massive estates. “That’s quite impressive.”

“He inherited it apparently. He owns everything— the pastures, the village, everything. Has done for nearly two centuries. Although he’s sold a lot of it in the past century or given it away, but he insists that the architecture be kept the same. That’s why some of the houses look sprung up from the colonies. Neo-Natalian, they call it, that flat-topped design. And that small cottage with the blue smoke coming out of the shoot”— he pointed down into the valley— “that’s his. Not too far to go. Are you alright?”

Cordelia tucked her hands into her coat pockets. “A little walking never bothered me. I would wonder around all over Tehran when I was a child. Alastair would grovel while I dragged him through the streets from one street merchant to the next.”

Squinting a little, Cordelia studied the westernmost end of the road, mentally comparing the earthy tones of England to the desert warmth of her homeland.

“I imagine it was beautiful,” said James.

“It was,” she said with a nod. “Though a different kind of beautiful than I imagine you’re accustomed to. The beauty lies inside of the city, with the people, the culture. It’s like every sense you have comes to life and you come to life. The air is so filled with spices and burning incense that you can taste it in your mouth. The language being spoken by neighbors sounded more like water trickling in a brook then the clumsy verbiage of English. Some streets were covered in rugs being woven and silks being beaded. It is its own piece of the world and could never be replicated.”

“You miss it.”

It wasn’t a question, but she answered as if it were. “Almost everyday.”

“Almost?”

Cordelia carefully avoided another puddle. “As I’ve told you before,” she started as they merged back together. “I grew up very much alone. I didn’t speak the language well— English being my first language, and the children often poked fun at my clothes or the way that I spoke. I had Alastair, but well, we both know how he can be.”

They began the slow descent now into the valley, not more than ten yards distant from the small cottage with the blue smoke chimney. If she was going to have this conversation with James, then she needed to start it now. She cleared her throat. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about what happened the other night. You have to understand that, there was once a time when Alastair and I— we were all each had in the world. And in that time, he protected me from a lot more than I realized and I don’t think he ever learned how to stop.”

“You don’t need to apologize for him, Cordelia,” said James. “As a brother myself, I understand perfectly well what he was doing and if a man had treated my sister the way that I treated you—even unknowingly— I would have flattened him to the gravel before he had a chance to speak. At least Alastair gave me a chance to explain myself before threatening to brazen me.”

Cordelia smiled. “He’ll probably never like you.”

James laughed and Cordelia’s heart responded to the sound. They’d come to the edge of the cottage’s property now, and the cottage seemed to be waiting for them.

“Then it’s a fine thing that it’s not his approval I seek,” said James, an eyebrow arched. “But I know he means a great deal to you.”

“He does,” she answered quietly.

She felt small in the shadow of the old cottage. The stone walls rose covered in a thin veil of moss and bright colored mushrooms. It was a narrow structure, hard and angular, save for the turret-like structure at one corner that probably sheltered a stairwell inside.

Reaching out, Cordelia ran her hand caressingly over the cold stones as they walked past. “Should we knock?” She asked, unsure how to approach the home of a high warlock— much less one with Magnus Bane’s social standing in the Shadowhunter community.

“Yes, I think so. He left specific instructions not to step on his azaleas,” said James, giving a flower bed full of the illusive purple flowers a wide berth.

He walked ahead of her towards the door tucked into the shadows of the wide porch. Cordelia’s trailing fingers snagged on something sharp, and she pulled her hand back, breaking contact with the stone wall.

“Curious,” said Cordelia, examining her finger tip where a small bead of blood now bloomed. “How does he get azaleas to grow this time of year.”

“I plant the bulbs in early winter,” said a voice from the porch, followed by a curl of smoke that drifted away into the air in the shape of a small white rabbit. “They freeze in the earth, then thaw in the summer, just in time for the rains to make everything moist. They’ll bloom until January.”

Magnus Bane emerged, resting his patched elbows on the porch banister. His eyes flickered, cat-like between the two shadow hunters on his lawn, and as a feline grin changed his face. “Come in,” he said, “it’s getting cold. And these hills are notorious gossips.”

Cordelia stepped through the front door, through the white-painted foray with the checkerboard floor. It smelled sharply of cut wood and coal dust and damp quarry tile.

“When I sent the letter, I expected to be invited back to your flat in London,” said James as he started unbuttoning his coat. “I hadn’t expected to be invited to the cottage. I haven’t been here since New Years of 99’ when you hosted that party.”

Magnus chuckled. “Yes, I faintly remember you and Matthew getting merry on spiced rum. One of you fell asleep in the antlers of my stag wall ornament.”

James blushed. “I have no recollection of that.”

“You wouldn’t, would you?” said Magnus. “It was very good spiced rum.”

James cleared his throat and quickly went to help Cordelia with her coat.

“Speaking of drinks, can I offer either of you something?” asked Magnus, lifting his hands towards the arched passageway into the kitchen. “I have fresh coffee, tea, biscuits, or a plate of chutney if you’re feeling peckish.”

Cordelia shrugged off her coat, and handed it off to James to hang beside his own. “I’ll take tea, if it’s not too much trouble.”

Magnus’s eyes flickered. “It’s not too much trouble at all.” Faint blue smoke curled from his fingertips as he snapped them. Cordelia heard the shuffling of glassware in the kitchen, but could not see who might be inside. “Follow me, we can sit in the front room with the fire so you can warm yourself.”

They followed the warlock through the arched walkway into the adjacent room. The large fireplace stacked with a glowing wood pile that crackled but didn’t seem to burn stood center against the forest green papered wall. A mural of Magnus sitting on a sofa with his ankles crossed and a gray cat in his lap hung over the gold painted mantle lined with fresh garland. Cordelia felt the texture of the floor change under her boots and looked down to notice the grand Persian rug underneath her feet. The style and design must have been over a hundred years old. She wanted to place her hands on it, to smell it, and see if there was anything left of its original home left on it, but resisted the strange urge by taking her seat in one of the wingback chairs that faced the fire.

James took his seat in the couple of her chair.

Magnus chose to stand beside the fireplace. “Your choice in correspondence has left me quite intrigued. It’s not often that one of your kind asks my permission before showing up at my doorstep. You either don’t want anyone to know you’re here or one of you has been raised with manners.”

“When have I ever just shown up at your doorstep?” asked James.

“Who said I was referring to you?” said Magnus, his eyes flickered to James’s wrist. “Aw, broken free from the manacle, I see. How did you manage it? Is that what this is about then?”

James gripped his wrist with his other hand. He glanced to Cordelia, probably weighing her reaction, and then back to Magnus. “We’re not here for me. It’s Cordelia.”

Magnus crossed his arms over his chest. “Aw, the young miss Carstairs. You look much better since I last saw you. You seem to have recovered nicely since your rendezvous with the prince of hell.”

“I wouldn’t call it a rendezvous as much as an unsuccessful kidnapping,” said Cordelia and allowed the comfort of Cortana strapped to her back to fight off the memory of being held against her will. Perhaps it was best that she didn’t remember any of it. What if he’d done something unspeakable to her.

“Tell me what ails you and I will see if I can help,” said Magnus.

“When I woke from my coma,” said Cordelia, taking a deep breath, “its seems that I have forgotten everything after the moment I got into the carriage with my brother to go to Alicante. I don’t remember being attacked, I don’t remember Belial, and I don’t remember how I got back except for what Lucie and James have told me. We were hoping that you would be able to gain access to my memories to hopefully learn what we can about Belial and his plan.”

“Curious.” Magnus tipped his head and thought for a moment, seeking a reply. “But you did hit your head rather hard in the attack, did you not? It could just be that your brain became scrambled just a bit and you’ve only temporarily forgotten.”

Cordelia and James glanced at each other. “That might be so,” said James, “but if Belial disclosed any information about his plan on how to capture me as his host to Cordelia and erased her memories as she was escaping, then perhaps her memories are key to his defeat.”

“Perhaps.” He looked between the two of them. “Unfortunately for you, your very concerned parents have requested that if you were to come to me, I not assist you.”

Cordelia and James both dropped their shoulders in dejection.

“Fortunately for them,” started Magnus, “in assisting you, I am actually assisting them, which they also asked me to do.” He examined some dust on the mantle. “This is a tough decision.”

A silver tray topped with a simple white teapot and three cups drifted into the room and gently bumped into Magnus’s shoulder. Without looking, he waved it away. “None for me, thank you.”

Cordelia watched as the tray floated over to the elegant wooden table and sank down with a delicate rattle.

“Cream or sugar?” Magnus asked.

“Just cream,” requested Cordelia.

The pot and the milk jar lifted and poured simultaneously into an awaiting tea cup. Cordelia’s mouth gaped as she watched.

“You never fail to dazzle,” said James.

“I invented the word, boy,” grinned Magnus as the tea and cup soared to Cordelia’s awaiting hands. “And don’t you forget it. But, now, back to our predicament. No one else has tried to access these lost memories?”

Cordelia swallowed a mouthful of hot earl grey tea. “The Silent Brothers refused as my mind was still healing from the trauma. They fear it might cause irreversible damage.”

Magnus frowned. “They’re right. Playing with magic in someone’s mind is incredibly dangerous. Especially when it comes to memories. Just the slightest wrong touch and you could forget entirely who you are.”

The teacup rattled on the saucer in Cordelia’s hand. James reached over and placed a hand on her knee.

“You needn’t go through with it, Cordelia,” he said gently. “We’ll wait for the memories to return.”

“What if they don’t?” She reached forward to set her tea back on the table lest she spill it all over Magnus’s gorgeous rug or plush velvet arm chair. “Can you do it? Do you think you can access them without—“

Magnus studied his polished fingernails. “I can try, but despite what some might believe, there are no guarantees when it comes to magic.”

Cordelia glanced over at James beside her. He was already studying her face; his expression was gentle and considering. They’d come all this way and they’d gone through all of the trouble to lie to everyone and she had promised to help in any way that she could to defeat Belial. Still, she knew that if she decided she didn’t want to go through with it, he’d leave this cottage with her and they’d find another way.

But there was always a trust in everyone’s voices when they talked about the infamous Magnus Bane. She’d heard stories of his camaraderie and bravery with the Shadowhunter community for years. The other thing that could possibly match his style and class would be his power.  

“Let’s try,” she said with as much confidence as she could bear to muster.

“Cordelia,” James started. “Are you absolutely certain?”

“No,” said Cordelia, “but you trust him, do you not?”

“With my life,” said James.

Magnus grinned down at his suede boots, pretending not to be listening, or at least not to have any interest in the exchange.

“Then I trust him too. Besides,” she said as she leaned forward to pick up her teacup. “His magic makes a delicious cup of tea and if that’s any indication of his abilities, then I feel completely safe.”

Magnus snapped his fingers and the tray of tea disappeared from the table. He pointed to James next. “James, you lay that blanket over the table. Cordelia, lay on top.”

They did as they were instructed. James removed the tightly knit afghan from the back of the chair and over the coffee table with it. Cordelia sat and swung her legs over until she could recline back in a position that made her feel entirely too vulnerable.

Magnus rolled up his sleeves to his elbows and rubbed his hands together creating sparks between his palms. He came around the table and kneeled down behind Cordelia’s head.

James knelt beside her and offered her his hand. “Perhaps you’d rather wait in the library? This could take some time and may not be pleasant.”

James brushed a strand of hair out of her face and tucked it behind her ear. “I don’t have to go anywhere if you’d prefer me here.”

“Actually, it might be better if you left the room,” said Magnus. “It will give Cordelia a chance to speak more freely and I don’t need the concerned significant other hovering over my shoulder while I am trying to work in the delicate details of the human consciousness.”

Cordelia took his hand and squeezed it. “He’s right.”

James leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I won’t be far.”

She nodded and reluctantly let his hand go as he stood.

Once James left the room, Cordelia felt the cool press of Magnus’s fingertips against her temple. “When you’re comfortable, close your eyes for me, Cordelia.”

After several deep breaths, Cordelia let her eyes close and focused her attention on the gentle rush of Magnus’s breath through his nose and the crackling of the fire wood.

“What’s the first thing that you remember from that night?”

Cordelia let the memories rush past her strangely warped and out of order. The first thing that came to mind was standing before James. “I said goodbye to James. I’d broken our engagement and was leaving London for Alicante with my brother.”

The warmth of the tears on her cheeks, the weight in her chest, the ache in her throat, she recalled all of it as if it were happening again. “I remember leaving James. I climbed into the carriage with Alastair. We started arguing. I told him of my plans to join the Iron Sisters when we returned to Alicante. He was so angry with me. He forbade me from doing it. He nearly turned the carriage around when we felt a jolt, as if we lost a wheel, and the carriage stopped.”

The picture in her mind started to become disfigured. Alastair stood in the darkness, a spear in his hands as he yelled something out to her.

“What was that?” Cordelia asked, pushing herself up to her knees.

“I’m not sure.” Alastair reached for the door. “Stay here. I’ll see what’s going on.”

“I’m coming with you.”

The memory started rippling apart like a stone thrown into still waters.

“Hold onto it, Cordelia,” said Magnus. “There’s a block on your memories, but fight through it.”

“Cyril!”

“Run, Miss Carstairs, run.”

The memory shuddered again.

Alastair stood in front of her with a spear in his right hand, held out in front of them ready to empale whatever or whomever came near. At some point, he had abandoned his waist coat and tie. His eyes danced sharply around them. “Draw Cortana, I believe we’re under—“

Then, there was blood everywhere, more blood than she thought she’d ever seen in her life. Head wounds bleed the worst, she told herself. It was fine. He would be fine.

“Cordelia.” More blood seeped from between Alastair’s lips, staining his teeth. “You— It wants—“

A sharp pain lanced through her ribcage, stealing her breath.

“It’s not real, Cordelia,” said Magnus. “It’s just a memory. Keep going.”

It was dark, that much Cordelia could tell, and it was cold. So cold the tips of her fingers ached. She was flat on her stomach, laying on something hard- stone possibly— that chilled her to her core. A dull, but intensifying pain, ached on the right side of her ribcage with every breath that she took. It was also the only part of her that felt inflamed with heat. Her lungs felt too full, the air scratched against the back of her throat as though she’d inhaled a mouth full of soot. She tried to cough, but nearly cried out from the pain in her ribcage.

Laughter echoed around her as she walked forward through the hazy dream. A figure stood in the distance. He was dressed much the same as the last time she’d seen him, in an all white tailored suit complete with black buttons that glistened like eyes- perhaps they were eyes. His pale gray hair swept across his face; in much the same way as James’s, but she would not allow herself to think about that.

Belial.

“What is it that you want from me?” asked Cordelia, the words shook on her lips.

Belial chucked, it echoed around them. “Nothing from you.”

“James.”

No. No that wasn’t right.

The memory focused on her Lucie, standing before her grandfather in full fighting gear.

Belial’s smile glowed in her memory.

Cordelia’s eyes flew open and she blinked up at Magnus and James starting down above her.

“Lucie,” said Cordelia as fresh tears spilled from her eyes. “He wants Lucie.”

A/N: Thanks for waiting on the updates. I hope you guys enjoy this update. Magnus has always (and will always) be one of my favorite characters. I always have so much fun writing him. I hope I did him justice. Sorry if the ending feels a bit rushed (it was), but it was a lot of things we already know and Cordelia is just relearning. Leave me a comment, a like, and please reblog if you’re so inclined. Also, follow along for the next update coming on December 6. Stay safe and stay healthy!

#the last night fanfiction #the shadowhunter chronicles #cassandra clare #chain of gold #jordelia fanfiction #james x cordelia #james herondale #Cordelia Carstairs

[thechangeling]

Night blooming

Ok so remember when I said I was gonna write another wlw one shot about my OC and Thais Pedroso? Well I finally finished it. This is a sequel to Only Love. I reccomend you read that one first. It's on my Ao3. Also there are two Buffy references in here. If you catch them you get a cookie.

She was beautiful. Utterly stunning. Like a shining becon of angelic radiance and power. But what honestly made Thais so alluring was her kindness and selflessness. She was the kind if girl who held her heart out before her for everyone to see. You could see it in her smile, hear it in her laugh, you could see it reflected in her paintings.

Janessa was the kind of girl who had thought she had given up on the goodness of humanity a very long time ago. She had seen how cruel people could be first hand during her human life and even now as a vampire. Only now she had power to protect her and a dangerous appetite that was never full.

In theory maybe this was a bad idea. Maybe in theory a lot of Nessie's ideas were bad ideas. But after that kiss in her room. After Thais had slept in her bed and asked Janessa to sing to her. Nessie couldn't lie to herself anymore.

"So where are we exactly?" Thais asked, stepping of Janessa's motorcycle, eager to be done riding it. Janessa hadn't had a helmet available since she never road with one. Thais was shocked when she told her.

"Don't you need one?" She had asked her.

"Nope I'm dead remember? Plus vampires are pretty much indestructible unless-"

"Unless you get them in the heart," Thais had chimed in. She sounded as if she was reciting something taken directly from a textbook.

She probably was.

It was a little unsettling.

They had pulled up to what looked to be an abandoned building. It was dark and worn down, with crumbling broken edges.

"It's a surprise," Janessa answered playfully. Thais rolled her eyes good naturedly. Janessa laughed.

"Come on angel, dont you trust me?"

Thais deliberated this for awhile then finally nodded. "Ok fine, lead me to my death." She held out her hand for Janessa to take.

If Nessie was alive, her heart would probably be racing. She smiled in spite if herself and took Thais's hand.

Thais instantly tensed up. "By the angel you're cold!" She complained. Janessa rolled her eyes fondly.

"I am once again, reminding you that I'm a vampire," she pointed out. "Come on."

She led Thais towards the entrance of the building. Thais seemed to notice something of to the side and gasped excitedly.

"Look!" She pulled Nessie towards what appeared to be a patch of flowers. "Jasmines! They're night blooming!" Thais let go of Janessa's hand to pick one and handed it to her.

"Just like you."

A shadowhunter had just given Janessa a flower. A pretty girl had just given her a flower. Janessa needed oxygen. She didnt need to breathe but somehow she felt like she was suffocating.

Janessa felt really strange. She had been for weeks whenever she was around Thais. There were all kinds of new emotions that she wasn't really prepared to deal with. Nor did she want to.

Janessa shook it off. She reached forward and took the flower from Thais. Nessie felt her shiver slightly when their fingers touched. Thais was smiling at her, her expression was open and warm the same way it always was. Janessa wished she could be the same way.

She wished she knew how.

Janessa made an effort to stop gaping and smiled. "Thanks angel. It's beautiful." Thais shrugged.

"I know your probably not a flowers type of person-" she started, ducking her gaze shyly. Nessie shook her head adamantly.

"No shut up, I like my flower!" She protested jokingly. "And I actually am a flowers person, it's just that no one's ever given me them before." Thais smiled at her shyly, lifting her hand to push Janessa's hair back behind her ear.

"Me neither," she admitted. Nessie found herself instinctively leaning into her touch.

She was warm. Janessa grinned unselfconsciously for a moment before realizing she was showing her fangs. "Sorry!" Janessa exclaimed. But Thais appeared to be unfazed.

She shook her head smiling. Thais's eyes were shining like bright beautiful obsidian stones. Her fingertips felt soft against Nessie's skin. She gulped.

"I didn't even notice," Thais whispered.

Janessa held her gaze for a moment then remembered why they were there in the first place. She shook herself out of her stupor.

"Come on let's go inside." She took Thais's hand again and guided her towards the building. Thais groaned reluctantly, but still followed.

"I swear this is how horror movies start Nessie," she grumbled. Janessa laughed.

"Well if there's anything big and bad lurking in the shadows angel I promise to protect you," she teased.

"Oh please I'll be the one protecting you. I'm the one with combat training."

"Yeah but I'm the one with the scary teeth," Janessa countered playfully. Thais rolled her eyes and allowed Nessie to lead her into the building.

It was crumbled and run down with weeds growing out in every direction, but when they finally made it down to the center wall, Thais gasped.

The entire wall was covered in street art. More specifically street art like looked like it belonged in Brazil. At least according to pictures Janessa had seen.

"Oh by the angel, it's beautiful!" Thais exclaimed. "It looks just like the stuff in São Paulo!" She traced her fingers across the bumpy cement. "I used to paint like this sometimes."

Janessa raised an eyebrow. "You mean spray paint?" She asked skeptically. "I have a hard time picturing a shadowhunter doing graffiti art for some reason." Thais laughed and it made Janessa want to laugh as well.

"Yes I could see why you would think that," Thais admitted, the smile leaving her face. Shadowhunters usually aren't encouraged to pursue the arts. But I love it." Thais turned away from Thais and continued tracing the outline of one of the drawings. Nessie followed her as she walked.

"When I was a kid, everytime I would be super excited and happy and have a ton of energy, I used to run around and destroy the house by drawing all over the walls. At the time the consequences, or the concept of right and wrong, wouldn't faze me," Thais explained. She sounded a little nervous to be telling Janessa this.

Janessa carefully walked up behind her and placed a hand on her shoulder, gently spinning Thais around to face her. "Why not?" She asked.

Thais looked haunted. "Because I didn't realize what I was doing at the time. I didn't know and I don't know why. Sometimes I have these moments where I just get really depressed and heavy for no reason and I dont leave my bed for days and other times it's like I'm on top of the world and I feel like I'm floating on clouds until I run out into traffic and nearly get run over," she murmered. She was avoiding Janessa's gaze.

Thais shook her head as if she was clearing dust from it. "Anyways the point is, spraying and painting has always helped me feel better. More human. One of the things I hate about shadowhunters is there's so much focus on death and violence and war," she said bitterly. "We're trained that our emotions are distractions. To feel is to be weak, and stuff like art, music or dancing, they're made from feelings. I think that's why shadowhinters are persuaded not to pursue them."

Thais sighed, glancing back over to the wall of street art. Janessa stayed silent, allowing Thais time to think.

Thais turned back to look at Janessa her eyes were shining again as she smiled slightly. "But I mean, who wants to live in a world without feelings?" She asked, stepping closer to Janessa.

Nessie was suddenly hyper aware of Thais's proximity to her. Her lips were curved and full and soft looking. She could remember their first kiss quite vividly, the way Thais tasted, the feeling of her warm body pressed against Janessa's.

The smell of Thais's blood overwhelming her.

Nessie reached out and cradled the sides of her face, rubbing her thumb against the edge of Thais's cheekbone. "You're right," she whispered in response to Thais's earlier statement. "There's nothing without feelings." Janessa lowered her head so that their lips were almost touching, paused for a moment to see if Thais would back out, and when she didn't, Nessie kissed her slowly.

Janessa heard Thais's heart sped up the same way it did the first time they kissed. She smiled slightly and deepened the kiss, pushing her tounge against Thais's as she felt Thais grip her arms tighter, pulling against the buckles on Nessie's leather jacket. She continued to kiss her feverishly pushing Thais's hair back. It was incredibly thick and curly, so Janessa couldn't really run in fingers through it very well.

Nessie ran her arms down Thais's shoulders to her waist and Thais made a squeaking type noise and jumped back.

"Cold Nessie!" She cried out. Janessa laughed.

"Aw I'm sorry angel. You're just gonna have to get used to it," she cooed. Thais playfully rolled her eyes.

She was silent for a moment then, studying Janessa carefully with her dark eyes. "You know it's interesting," she mused. "I used to believe that vampires couldn't feel things like love and compassion." Janessa narrowed her eyes.

This was a strange thing to be admitting on their first date but sure, why not?

"But then I heard you sing," Thais continued. "I heard you sing and it was so beautiful. Not just because you're good, because you are very good. But because you sing with so much passion and emotion," Thais exclaimed. "And that's when I knew that I was wrong, and that I care about you."

Janessa couldn't help but grin. "God you are so cute," she giggled.

Thais shrugged. "I'm not that cute. Also another thing happened that night when I saw you perform that I thought you should know about," she said innocently.

Nessie was curious. "What?"

Thais smirked in a way that was very not angel like. "I'll tell you once we get back to the institute." Janessa bit her lip to avoid letting out a moan.

"Well fuck then snap some pictures of the wall and let's get out of here," Nessie exclaimed, rushing towards the exit. Thais laughed and raced after her.

"Its fine. We can always come back," she pointed out. "Maybe this could be our special place."

Janessa felt another overwhelming rush of feeling overtake her. She tried not to let it show.

'Yeah," she answered, feeling light and fluffy and on top of the world, just like Thais had described before.

Just be careful, a voice inside her said. Make sure you don't go running out into traffic.

Keep your guard up Nessie.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Just for frame of reference, this is my idea of Janessa.

@eutony-in-whisper @swordwifes @ti-bae-rius @dianasarrow @stxr-thxif @thelandunderthehilll @magnus-the-fabulous-entp-bane @talia-lightwood

#twp #the wicked powers #tsc #Kaitlin's oc #Thais Pedroso #wlw #kaitlin'swriting

[being-held]

There’s Something Strange About How It All Began by Alexis Pera

A draft piece for a book not yet written. Enjoy.

I.  eight when I first caught fire. It was a cold day in my village, as it usually was, near the shores of the lake where my family’s home was built. It was a small dwelling in my home region of Plivium. It rained a lot in Plivium, unlike the rest of Alienis, and no one knew why, or no one really cared. It was home, no one questions that. But, when  it wasn’t pouring, most Plivumians preferred to be outside. We kind of had to be, or else the work would never be done, the harvest never brought up, and the damages never fixed. So as my parents worked, I was free to roam and explore.

    Yet, out of all the land my parents had, all the forests and rivers and ponds, I loved my father’s garden, beautiful in every sense of the word. He had grown flowers of every color and nurtured trees so full of fruit we could never harvest them all. It was my favorite place in the entire world. I would run through the paths, looking up the entire time as I watched the trees rush by and the leaves brush my legs as I went. Who knows how many times I fell, or tripped, or just ran full on into things. My father would always scold me about being more careful, but he would have a smile on his face because he was more than amused by how happy I was despite having just run into a tree or tripped over some vines. My mother would be more upset, she didn’t like seeing me hurt, even if I wasn’t upset about it, and I always had bruises and scratches but a smile on my face. Of course, that all stopped the day I Specialized.

    Most children didn’t Specialize until they were older, when they were turning into grown men and women, but I didn’t. I was still a child, still scared of the stories my parents told me about Specializing, still carefree and unable to prepare for what would happen.

    Because gaining your Specialty and becoming one with nature was something that usually didn’t come in a nice package with a pretty bow. It was painful and unpredictable, and with my family’s bloodline, my Specialty was to be even more so.

    The wind was strong that day, or so I thought at least, and it kept growing more and more until the chill in my spine wouldn’t go away. Then my small kid brain finally realized that none of the trees or plants were swaying from its force, and that my clothes and hair were still in place. I was then wondering why I was so cold and why it felt like someone was waving cold air on my neck. I didn't have much time to think about it.

    A searing pain had bloomed in my temples, my vision and balance immediately going awry. It was paralyzing, and as I hit the dirt, a terribly cold tingling took over my hands and arms.

    My mother found me first, and she was the one who first saw the visible effects of what was happening. My fingers, hands, and lower arms had turned completely black, right up to my elbows. And though it seemed as if I stuck my hands into a smoldering fire pit, my skin was entirely numb to feeling. The headache had faded and vision only slightly better at that point, so I was left sitting on the ground staring at my arms as if they didn’t belong to me. In that moment, it didn’t feel like they did.

    Then the second wave hit.

    While my vision cleared enough for me to see and the overall pain had deadened to a dull throbbing, my arms sparked and white flames enveloped them. I couldn’t feel it, I couldn’t stop it, I could barely see it, but I screamed and yelled and cried. My mother didn’t know what to do, neither did my father when he finally found us. They couldn’t come near, and my mother learned that the hard way. She hated seeing me in pain, so her motherly instinct to hold me, to comfort me, backfired when she tried. She now has a large burn scar down her right arm, a daily reminder of how dangerous I was.

    Because to the horror of myself, my mother, and my father, I had managed to inherit one of the rarest and most dangerous Specialties known to our world, called Aerdior. The unfortunate ability to conjure heat from one’s skin. My version of it, of course, came with the bonus of flames.

    I don’t remember the rest of that day. I just know that my parents had to reach out to one of our neighbors, who could manipulate water, to put me out. And that that day was when everything became different.

II.

    I can’t count how many times in a day I used to catch fire. At first, it was really often, every hour or so, and that’s how I was forced to learn how to will it away. And eventually I could. And after a month, it would go down to every two hours. And after another month, three to four hours.

    By the time I was nine, I could go at least two days without catching, on a good week.

    I also can’t count how many times I’ve hurt someone or something around me. It would come so suddenly, I never had enough time to get away from whatever I was touching. My father had a couple burns on his shoulders and arms, my mother on her fingers and hands. I banned myself from my father’s garden after I destroyed almost half of my father’s rare Cossia flowers, and later from even going outside when I injured a creature that had come too close. I spent most of my time in my room, where anything that wasn’t or couldn’t be fireproofed had been removed. I cried when my mother wanted to take my books, but my father, who taught me to love and cherish reading, spent almost two weeks trying to figure out a way for me to keep them. He finally found the perfect mixture of plants and special roots to create paper that couldn’t burn. And he then spent the next several months copying all of my favorite books onto the special paper so I could read them. I only have one of those copies now.

    I was terrified and paranoid of my Specialty, and of what I could do. No matter where I was or who I was with, I had to watch what I touched and how I handled things. Before long, I was labeling everything as burnable or unburnable, what I can’t touch and what I can, who I couldn’t take the chance on and who I could. It was an unbearable existence for a nine year old child.

    And then we moved.

    I say moved like it was optional, like we made the choice, but truly, we weren’t just changing scenery, we were running.

    I don’t remember much of it. One day we were happy; my mother, my father, me, and the little baby in my mother’s belly that we were all so excited for. Then the next, I was being dragged through the forest by my parents who kept insisting everything was alright. Right up until it wasn’t.

    My father died that day, protecting us. My mother will only tell me that without him saving us, we wouldn’t have escaped, we wouldn’t have made it to earth, the Connected World.

    It’s been nine years, and she still refuses to tell me more.

    But now, I only catch randomly, with no pattern. A rushing feeling will run down my spine, and then my fingers will start turning black. If I don’t separate myself from my surroundings and put all my willpower into making it go away, I will eventually catch, though it’s much slower on earth.

    My mother would always tell me that it was all a blessing in disguise, that coming to earth was good because I was less likely to hurt others. I used to believe that, and maybe a small part of me still does, but now I know that it doesn’t make a difference. Who am I to have a better life when my father never got to live the rest of his?

III.

    My little sister was born the day we came to earth. Because of the way we came, in the chaos and madness, my mother went into labor not even an hour after arriving. We had come through the Pathway into an old church, which had seemed to be abandoned with no one left to take care of it. I was the only one there to help my mother as she gave birth.

    It was a horribly long, terribly painful, and rather traumatizing experience that I would never like to experience again. But once it was over, we had another problem to handle. Because my little sister didn’t come out crying.

    My mother had pretty much passed out once the baby was out, so I was left to try to understand what was happening. It was, fortunately, not long before I realized that my sister wasn’t dead. She was still moving and her heart still beating, with her face scrunched up as if she wanted to cry but just couldn’t get it out. She was mute, a birth defect common to Plivumians.

    I had shifted my mother into a lying position and covered her with an old curtain I found, then proceeded to wrap my new born sister in the torn up cloth from my shirt. I held her as she slept, and didn’t sleep myself, and that night I named her. I never asked my mother after if she liked the name I picked, or of she was upset that I did, but I was fully convinced that my father would have loved it.

    I named her after my father’s two favorite flowers, the ones which he had spent years growing to be perfect for their blooming season, and the ones I adored more than any of the others. Her name was Pella Cossia, my little sister. And the only thing I thoroughly remember from that day, was the promise I made to her, that I would never let her get hurt, that I would protect her no matter the costs.

    I still keep that promise, and I don’t ever plan on breaking it.

IV.

    We found the dwelling, or town, as the earthans called it, that the church belonged to, and met many people who were confused about who we were and what had happened to us. One person called himself an officer, and he helped us find clothes and food. We also met a lady who gave my mother a job at a restaurant, which at the time was a very strange concept, as we didn’t have restaurants or food suppliers back in Plivium. But we adapted quickly, and it was only a year of taking help and staying in hotels before my mother could finally afford a home.

    It was a small, unkept, dirty place, but we were decent enough at cleaning and home-keeping to get it livable again.

    By the time we found out about school, I was twelve and completely unqualified. But due to the laws of the land, and the strict suggestions of anyone we knew, my mother thought it wise to send me to school. The idea of school seemed promising, an organization built to help children learn and grow in the world, but the actual reality of it was a lot more disappointing. The education part was pretty much an afterthought, as the talking, sports, and teasing took the forefront. I came to be a wallflower, even more so because of the... heat problem. People liked to point out that I wore sweaters and gloves all the time, even when it was warm; little did they know that I couldn’t feel warmth at all, or cold for that matter. The sweaters and gloves were more for a safety precaution(made of a special heat resistant material that took years to find and use), and a comforting mechanism.

    I caught up quickly; in my studies, that is. I was pretty much enthralled with anything I didn’t already know, as we didn’t have education anything close to Earthan education back home, where we learned to read, write, count, and that was it. In Plivium, reading more than what basic training required was like being a genius, which both my father and myself easily overstepped. But on earth, being an avid reader was somewhat normal, and even the small amount of people who actually enjoyed learning maths and science and literature were many more than at home. I also had more than enough time on my hands, as I still stayed cooped up in my bedroom with things least fire-prone. I had more books than clothes, and more library passes than shoes, which I was more than okay with. I enjoyed it, even if school itself was much less than fun and little more than torture.

    Though as high school came, with my Specialty growing stronger and more worrisome, my mother thought it time to pull me out. At that time, I wasn’t attached to school, as long as I got to keep the books and the library trips. My mother obliged, but, unfortunately, she was still listening to coworkers and neighbors. Because apparently, by the time your fifteen, your supposed to have a job. Which, of course, my mother and I thought strange and ridiculous, because the whole employment thing was an entirely different situation at home. But we adapted anyway, and I managed to get a job at a small bookstore in town, but only because it was run by an older lady who majorly needed help.

    I still work there today, and Mrs. Gorgio is like the grandma I never had, feeding me when I forget myself and praying when she knows my mother has a job interview. She instantly fell in love with Pella, and asks about her every day I come in. Pella doesn’t like books as much, preferring music and other loud ways of expressing herself, but she likes Mrs. Gorgio and the fact that the older lady wasn’t shocked to find she can’t speak. Pella comes in once a week, and is continually teaching Mrs. Goegio sign language so that it’s easier for them to communicate. I sometimes watch them interact, sitting in the big cushion chairs in the back of the shop, laughing and smiling and gesturing. It’s rather funny to see Mrs. Gorgio get the movements wrong, in which Pella will simply smile and correct her with gentle fingers.

    When we walk home together, Pella will sign to me the whole way, explaining what they were working on and how Mrs. Gorgio has the best taste in music and why the old lady always wears that rusty necklace around her neck. Though I trip on the bumpy sidewalks and my own feet watching her hands fly, I don’t ever shove it off. I know how much it means to her, and that she looks forward to that one day of the week when I take her.

    It also distracted me, helped me pretend that our lives were normal. And that we weren’t foreigners in disguise, tricking everyone into believing we belonged, when we really truly didn’t.

#random writing #writing #story writing #fantasy #otherworldly #fantasy writing #powers #super abilities #heat #fire power #creative writing #draft #first draft #alienis draft

[tommysparker]

Black & White: Prologue [QOH!Reader x Angel!Tom Holland]

Ayyy guess who’s back a few days later with a whole new series in tow :) This au is gonna be a little different to the other ones on this site, so read the disclaimer down below. 

Disclaimer: I am not religious so I have no real idea how any of this works, I just like the concept. Also I was raised Hindu, so I’ve decided to do a mix of Hinduism and the standard Christianity concept for this fic. I really hope you enjoy this! 

Warnings: None? (yet) incorrect representation of religion (like I said, I’m not religious I just like the concept.)

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“Well well, aren’t you a pretty thing?” a sultry voice whispered in his ear. 

Tom involuntarily shivered, not wanting to show any weakness but failing miserably. In truth, he was terrified. Being sent by the Lord to talk to the devil was not on his bucket list, but he knew he was the only angel fit for the job. He spent his whole life on earth praising the heavens, and entering the afterlife and being welcomed with open wings was a true blessing he had earned.  

He would not disappoint. 

He will not give in. 

Lord have mercy on my soul…

“He can’t hear you y’know,” the same voice echoed in his mind. “Down here, you’re all mine. Not even Brahma can help you now. So, tell me angel wings, what sins have you committed for God to send his most loyal devotee to my land?”

“Y-Your words speak of nonsense,” Tom faltered, hating himself for stuttering. “I’ve come by the Lord’s orders to suggest you stop tormenting Earth’s inhabitants at once.” 

A small eerie chuckle bounced off the castle walls and reflected into his ears. He didn’t risk raising his head, not yet. For to look into her eyes, those dark black eyes he’s heard and read many stories of, is thought to be a sin alone worth being banished from the Heavens.  

Some say the moment you look into her eyes, you’re a slave to her will. Others gossip over how you’ll be cursed for all eternity, though they sound both the same.  

“Well then, suggest away.” She was amused by this, the tone was evident. 

Tom didn’t know how to respond, searching his brain for words but coming up short. How could this...this thing have such an affect on him? Dear God--

“I told you, dear, you’re in my world now, not your world. I am the one in control here. I’m the almighty. Your dearest God can’t help you now, and he was well aware of that when he sent you here.” Her words were strong, bold-spoken, with meaning and intention. She wanted to make sure this white snowflake knew exactly what he signed up for when he agreed to pay her a little visit. 

“God hears all!” Tom shouted, a small part of him praying his raised vocals would attract the attention of someone, anyone up above. He never should have agreed to do this alone. 

“You’re right, you shouldn’t have,” the smile could be heard in her voice. “Now, I don’t have all night. I’m a busy woman as you know. Say what you must before I dismiss you to my demons.”

Tom dared to look up, eyes focusing on anything but those black-hole pupils. His gaze fell upon the broad, stretched out red and black wings, whose tips fluttered ever so slightly creating the small draft that made the hair on his arms rise. The sharp scales that glistened from the fire's reflection ran all the way behind her back, connecting to her figure. The shape resembled that of a dragon, and for a brief second he wondered if the she-devil could be a descendant of such a creature.

Curled horns sprouting from the crown of their head, wings with power to blow houses over with a single flap, and the fiery look in her eyes when he gazed into them-- wait what?!

In a single blink, she stood towering over him, black eyes with a small hint of white stared back at him, barging into his soul. He fought, did everything in his power to look away but his attempts proved useless. All he could do was stare into the abyss, feeling his grip on reality slowly fall as he got lost in her eyes. There was only black, and endless dark void- until it wasn’t. 

Another blink, Tom was thrown backwards. He fell on his back, gasping for air as if he had nearly been drowned. He rubbed at his eyes harshly, reciting every prayer he’d learned in a desperate attempt to rid whatever evil spell she had placed on him. It was only when he heard a small whimper that he froze. 

He slowly pried his hands away from his eyes, gaze darting in the direction the sound came from. Everything happened so fast his head was spinning, but he managed to make out a black figure, curled up with their wings wrapped around them protectively. 

Tom stood and took a wobbly step towards the person before he suddenly remembered where he was, and exactly who was sitting in front of him.  

Despite that, a small voice in the back of his head told him to make sure she was okay. Demon or not, as an angel he had a duty to take care of people, may God forgive him if he had done wrong by helping a lost soul. 

“Are you alright?” He asked quietly, taking another step, despite his mind telling him to stay as far away as possible. 

The figure rose, gracefully, wings unraveling like a blooming flower. She stood tall, a slight jerk in her hip as her hands gripped her waist. Her hair lit into a blend of red, yet maintained its natural shape. The flames danced along her back, falling over her shoulders, illuminating the structure of her face. Jaw clenched, tongue in cheek, and those eyes, those damned eyes…

Had he known his fate was sealed the moment he looked up. 

“Are you just going to stand there and look pretty?” She quipped, dark written all over her facial expression. “You, my sweet angel, just made the biggest mistake of your afterlife coming here. Now, you will never see the light of your grace again. You’re mine now, and I don’t share.”

All traces of the figure he saw moments ago were gone, replaced by an evil presence that knew nothing of mercy. 

Before he could react, two hands gripped his arms, pulling them back while a rope wrapped around his white feathered wings. Tom cried out, trying to fight but fell to no avail. The material trapping his wings felt as if they were burning him with sins, causing a silent scream to be ripped from his throat. 

“What should we do with him, your majesty?”

“Take him to the chambers. I want no harm to come to this one, got it? If you pluck a hair on his head, if I find a single feather missing from his wings I will personally throw you into the river of lost souls. Do you understand?”

No response. 

“DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!” 

“Y-Yes, Rani.”

Little late for that, Tom wanted to say. Unfortunately, he never got the chance. 

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And there you are! If you liked this please let me know so I’ll actually have the motivation to write more. 

Feedback is always welcome! 

B&W Taglist: @rebekkah4766 @greenorangevioletgrass @allegra-writes @soraitmnt @worldoftom @farfromparker @averyfosterthoughts @parkerpeter24 @angel-spidey @naztheapprentice

#tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland angst #angel!tom holland #queen of hell!reader #qoh!reader #angel!tom holland x qoh!reader #tom holland x reader #tom x reader #angel!tom x reader #angel!tom x qoh!reader #tom holland x y/n #angel!tom #my writing

[intruality-overlord]

Too Soft

2081 Words

Summary: A one night stand goes off the rails. (No smut, just feels.)

AO3 link:

Patton surveyed the room while he nursed his beer. While alcohol was great and all, the drink was more for something to occupy his hands than anything else. Patton wasn’t here for the drinks.

Patton found exactly what he was looking for in the form of walking sin in ripped skinny jeans and a crop top. Perfect. He spotted the green devil across the room mingling in a swarm of sweaty bodies doing whatever he thought passed as dancing. It was the best worm impression Patton had ever witnessed. Mostly random wiggling. With that permanent devilish grin and booming cackle louder than the blasting music, Patton was sure he knew exactly how ridiculous he was.

He seemed to attract as many people as he scared away. Probably with horrendous flirting.

Suddenly, the girl they were currently chatting up threw her drink in his face. Patton snorted. Apparently loud enough for the green devil to hear and— Oh fuck they were making eye contact. Those green eyes were electric. Bright with mischief.

Goodness, and that mustache groomed to goofy perfection.

Welp, Patton was just trying to work up the courage to approach him but it looked like the green devil was doing it for him now. All he had to do was remember however the fuck to flirt.

…and figure out how to remember something he never knew in the first place.

Patton traced his eyes over him in what he hoped was an appealing way. They seemed to not so much walk, but more move his lanky body by swinging his legs in the general direction he wanted to go in.

Soon enough, he was saddled up beside Patton at the bar (and if Patton had any doubts if he was queer, he knew he must be by the way he mocked of concept of chairs). Up close, Patton could see he had several tattoos. He also had many piercings in each ear, not necessarily matching in jewellery or placement, as well as a septum piercing with a cute emerald gemstone (that was glistening with the alcohol he hadn’t bothered to do anything about yet).

“Enjoying the view?” The stranger flirted.

“I was enjoying the spectacle,” Patton tried teasing. That earned him a warm, toothy smile.

“You were staring longer than that, cheeky,” he smirked, finally deciding to dry his face off on his sleeve.

“What did you do to deserve a soak in the first place?” Patton asked.

“Some like the direct approach, others not so much,” he shrugged. Patton giggled. Then giggled more when the stranger's jaw dropped. “My name’s Remus by the way,” he rushed out somewhat breathlessly.

“I’m Patton. Pleasure to meet you Remus-by-the-way.”

Remus snorted.

Damnit, Remus was charming and adorable in his own way and fuck Patton wasn’t supposed to be thinking like that! He’s sexy damnit! Think sexy! (Patton excused his nausea as butterflies.)

“Could you give me an example?” Patton plowed onwards.

“Hmmmm,” Remus pretended to think, twirling that ridiculous but majestic mustache. Propping his chin on his hand like a pillow, he watched Patton with a slow smirk as if he could already imagine waking up to him tomorrow. “I'm always on top of things. Would you like to be one of them?”

Shocked laughter punched Patton’s lungs. That shouldn’t have made Patton blush hard enough to nearly pop a blood vessel.

“So… your opinion?” Remus giggled too.

“I think…”

As he thought, his eyes wandered again. Patton was still taking in the view. There was just so much to admire with this fascinating man. Inked flowers embellished his deathly pale skin. Roses. Though the design was more focused on the thorns appearing to draw bright scarlet blood rather than the monochrome blooms. It started from behind his ear, slithering down his neck and disappeared into his shirt. There was another glimpse of the ink at his exposed midriff, and it teasingly peaked through the ripped jeans too.

Patton really wanted to see the rest of that damn tattoo.

“I think I like you,” he answered truthfully, with a smile way too soft for the situation.

“I think I like you, too,” Remus parroted. The words and his smile, with his own bastardly twist.

If anyone could fix Patton, it would be this green devil.

“Wanna ditch this place?” Remus quirked a brow at him.

“Please,” Patton said before he could reconsider.

“Sweet,” he said, his grin somehow relaxing while his eyes just grew brighter. “My place or yours?”

“Yours.”

~•~

As soon as the door softly clicked shut behind them, Remus turned around and…

Took the time to bother locking the door. Huh. So far, Remus was the most responsible person he’d ever been with. While Remus fiddled with his keys (for what was only a second or two), Patton twiddled his thumbs. This night really was a strange one.

Giggles boiled over Remus at the sight. “Cutie,” he purred, and took Patton’s hand. Calloused fingertips smoothly slipped into his hand, cradling not clamping onto him. Patton was instantly fascinated by the touch. Squeezing their palms flush together, Remus’s palm was glowing hot like a live light bulb.

Patton stumbled as Remus abruptly tugged him up a short flight of stairs.

Wait— were the skipping the making out at the door bit? But that was the best part! Well, Patton wasn’t a huge fan a body sandwiching him to a hard, unforgiving wall, but did this mean they were just skipping straight to—

Patton’s blood ran cold like abandoned soup.

Before Patton registered that they were already at the bedroom, those burning glass hands were hoisting him up by his thighs. He scrambled for his shoulders— damn there was more muscle on his bones than Remus’s thin frame flaunted— with a squeak. Oh, maybe they were just using the bedroom door or walls instead—

Nope. Remus gently lay Patton down on his bed, looming over him. Fuck, the mattress was practically hotel quality. And Remus… His hands were still snuggly glued to his thighs, using pure core strength to hover above him. Breath skated across his skin. Electric green eyes warmed his cheeks with their reverent gaze, and Patton wondered if they were actually a green angel this whole time. Patton found he’d never felt so comfortable in a position with his legs hooked around a stranger’s waist. It took him off guard.

Yet what surprised Patton far more was—

“Can I kiss you?” Remus asked as he smiled down at him. And it sounded like a genuine question.

“O-oh, yeah, of course,” Patton stuttered. They normally didn’t ask that— so they were gonna do the making out part? Wasn’t it just implied that he could kiss him? That was the whole reason he was at his house? It wasn’t that Patton didn’t expect Remus in particular to… have bad manners, Patton just expected Remus to be like everybody else.

“Are you okay?” Remus said, his eyebrows crinkled gently in a way that made Patton’s stomach feel like it was stuffed with wriggling pom-poms— in a good way. Wait, is that what butterflies are supposed to feel like? “I-I’m sorry I’m just a-a bit nervous,” Patton mumbled breathlessly.

Shoulders relaxing into smooth broad slopes, Remus smiled with a tiny sigh. “You’re so cute,” Patton swore he heard embedded in that sigh of honey. “That’s okay,” Remus reassured, “I’ll go as slow as you want.” Slipping a hand behind his neck, tucked beneath his ear, thumb settled on his jaw, Remus whispered, “or as fast.” And that cheeky grin was back. A smile hesitantly lifted his cheeks even as Patton gulped like he was swallowing a rock.

More teeth than lips met his when Remus kissed him, but Patton didn’t mind when he could feel him smiling. That smile was just as bewitching to feel against his skin as it was to ogle at.

Then Remus's weight steadily settled on top of him. Doing the kissing part on cushioning blankets instead of wood digging into his spine was luxury. His mustache tickled, and that septum piercing did too as Remus pressed closer. One hand teasingly trailed up and down Patton’s neck in broad soothing strokes while the hand on Patton’s thigh was a comforting constant. Teeth clashing morphed into a sweet but firm press of lips, only to revert back with the addition of tongue.

Somehow, Remus even made that sweet and gentle.

Teasingly, the tip of his tongue traced the seam of Patton’s lips, followed by slightly sloppier, mostly closed mouthed kisses. Patton properly sunk into the mattress. Then Remus seemed to remember himself and parted specifically to ask, “Is this okay?” As if it was just as vital to ask that as it was to pause for breath. It was even more confusing the second time, honestly. They were already kissing, why was he asking again? Nonetheless, Patton hummed a blissed out, “Yes,” preemptively parting his lips.

Until it suddenly wasn’t.

The gentle caress of velvet touch was swapped for an unyielding, slimy slide against his own tongue. Remus’s breath was becoming heavier and his heart thudded through his chest and against Patton’s. He nibbled Patton’s lips and his hand wondered further and further south.

Right. This. God, Patton was feeling so many feelings and none of them were horny like he’s supposed to be!

Leaning back only as much as necessary, Remus pulled back to yank his shirt off. Remus’s one hand settled back on his thigh like it belonged there, stopping the heat escaping. He tugged at the hem of Patton’s shirt next and asked, “Is this okay?”

No! No, go back to just kissing me like you loved me at first sight! Please, go back to kissing me like you want to know me tomorrow!

“Yeah,” Patton said, despite his throat tightening.

Using much more care than he did with himself, Remus hauled Patton’s polo off. Patton felt way too naked.

Remus eventually sat back on his hunches, Patton’s legs falling away either side of his hips, and Patton could finally get a good view of him. Following a tasteful patch of chest hair, there was a trail of hair that led all the way down to his waistband. Though the thought of what it led to crossed Patton’s mind, he couldn’t help but think it just made Remus’s tummy look incredibly cuddly—

Focus Patton!

Just like he predicted, Remus’s tattoo wandered all around his torso. There were some other tattoos as well, including some old stick’n’pokes, practically indecipherable. Patton’s eyes raked over them before he remembered he should touch them too.

Settling his hand on Remus’s torso, he forced himself not to freeze. He followed his contour, along the roses, across his stomach— that really was soft, yet solid— he flinched when he grazed Remus’s waistband. Wavering, his hand fluttered back up to rest on Remus’s neck, right below his ear where his thumb bumped into a dangling earring.

A hooligan with tattoos and piercings and everything his parents would hate.

Remus’s smile was dampened with that tender look tinged with worry. Patton’s shivered. Patiently, Remus attempted to comfort him by pressing his own hand over his so Patton could feel his thrumming pulse.

He was way too damn soft than he had any right to be— why was Remus making this so difficult?

“…Are you okay, Patton?”

His vision wobbled.

Patton dragged the green devil back into a kiss. Soft, closed mouth lips just against lips. Then Remus kissed back, threatening to add in teeth again with his smile making a comeback.

But the kiss didn’t break apart because Remus couldn’t tame his grin. No, Patton couldn’t hold back his rush of tears anymore.

Patton sobbed against the lips of the stranger he thought could fix him, and broke him instead.

Despite Patton desperately clinging to his neck to keep him close, Remus ripped himself away and scrambled to the foot of the bed.

“I’m sorry!” Patton curled into a ball, covering his shamefully tear streaked face, “I don’t kn-know what the he-hell is wrong with me!”

“It’s okay,” Remus whispered, “there’s nothing wrong with you, Patton.”

…

…

“We could always watch a movie instead,” Remus offered gently. “I have microwave popcorn,” he added.

Patton peaked out from behind his knees. “...Popcorn?” He sniffled.

“Popcorn.”

Remus hesitantly reached out a comforting hand. Patton snatched it up. The green angel smiled.

Maybe Remus broke him, but maybe Remus was the key to rebuilding himself, too.

#lallyphant’s writing #sander sides #thomas sanders #ts sander sides #patton sanders #ts patton #remus sanders #ts remus #intruality #moduke #sanders sides #ts sanders sides #sanders sides fic

[dreamscapesin1582]

Day One: Together

Uesugi Kenshin x MC

was not able to proofread pls forgive my tired ass haha. also 2k+ words soooo

“Just keep practicing and you’ll be better eventually.”

I smiled as the new castle seamstresses asked me to teach them a few techniques.

“Thank you, my lady!” One of them was joyful as she clutched the unfinished haori on her hands with a bashful smile. “I’ll keep practicing!”

“You are so enthusiastic,” another seamstress spoke up with a teasing voice, “I’m sure he’d like whatever you’d give him.”

“Oh, are you planning to give the haori as a gift?”

The eager one now blushed and coyly nodded. “My lover is working hard as well, and I appreciate his efforts… so I figured I’d give him something to show my appreciation… and it also gets quite chilly at night, and I don’t want him to catch a cold so…”

“That’s so cute.” I couldn’t suppress a giggle. “Good luck.”

They waved goodbye as they went on to practice. I stared at them with a smile. She was quite inexperienced, but she looked so determined to master it. By then, I knew she would do a good job.

A gift, huh?

I left the room to take a walk out the garden. A few thoughts lingered in my mind. Should I make Kenshin something as well?

“Hey,” I stopped as I heard Sasuke’s voice behind me, “I didn’t want to interrupt you, but you’re going to trip on that rock if you kept walking.”

“Huh?” I glanced down on my feet. “Oh! Uh, yeah, sorry… and thanks.”

He approached me with the usual stoic face he always had. “Were you worried about something?”

“Nah, just a passing thought while I listened to the seamstresses talk about giving gifts for their lovers.” I laughed. “They were so cute.”

“Well, it is February.” He nodded while adjusting his glasses. “It seems like Valentine’s Day still goes around even though it’s only us who are aware of it.”

“…Gosh, you’re right!”

It’s only been a few days since February came around. Valentine’s Day didn’t occur to me until he mentioned it, which was surprising because it’s such a popular event back in the modern day...

Now I really want to give him a gift!

“I was just contemplating whether I’d give Kenshin a gift too, but now I decided. I’m going to give him a Valentine’s Day gift.” I nodded to myself, but then my shoulders slumped as I realized another thing. “…But I can’t make chocolate.”

Sasuke frowned sympathetically. “Hmm, true. You can’t find ingredients to making chocolate around here.”

“Other than that, Kenshin doesn’t really like sweets.”

I sighed as I tried to think of a different gift. Sasuke brainstormed with me. "How about making something he does like?"

Food he likes? Well, there’s...

Suddenly, one idea popped in my head and I immediately knew it was one thing I could do.

"That's it!" I exclaimed, not being able to hide the excitement. "I already have an idea. Thanks, Sasuke."

I ran off to practice it immediately. I heard Sasuke shout a 'good luck to whatever!', so I waved as I went to the kitchen.

Meanwhile, Sasuke stared at her as she dashed off like an excited little kid, which made him smile a little.

That lasted only three seconds at most.

The glint of silver was already pointed at his neck and he knew the only person behind him right that moment. "Lord Kenshin, please put that down. That's dangerous."

“You will answer my questions thoroughly, or else I will cut you down.” He said sternly. “What is this... Valentine's Day?”

Sasuke blinked once, twice, and finally managed to stay calm as he realized what was going on. “To put it simply, it's a day where love is celebrated in our time.”

Kenshin narrowed his eyes as he slowly lowered the sword. Sasuke faced his confused expression with his stoic one. “Love? How is it celebrated?”

“Usually, it's a day where women give chocolates to the person they like and confess their feelings. But then, it’s not rare to find some couples give gifts to each other on the same day. Either way, it’s meant to celebrate romance."

"Choco...late? Couples? This is the first time I've heard of those."

"Of course, since chocolate is not available in this time just yet." Sasuke replied coolly. "And a couple is a modern term for two lovers."

Kenshin stared at his vassal with a little disdain. Sasuke is his lover's only companion from that peaceful time they were in before, and it bothered him that both of them can relate on a lot of things... whereas he is still in the process of learning all about her.

But is there anything he won’t do for her?

“Sasuke.”

“Yes, Lord Kenshin?”

“...Tell me more about this Valentine's Day.”

.....

It was already the 14th of February.

I undid the cord that tied up my sleeves as I gazed at my work with a satisfied smile. I don’t experiment much in the kitchen—I’m more adventurous on fashion than on cuisine—so having able to make something with a decent taste just from scratch makes me feel somewhat proud of myself.

Throughout my breaks from work, I was cooped up inside the kitchen, trying to practice making something out of my idea. The kitchen maids were so helpful on trying to assist me. Although I tried to do as much of it by myself, since I want it to be special.

And I kept thinking about him as I made it. I intended to pour all my love for him into this simple gift.

I planned it to be a surprise, but Sasuke told me he was forced to tell Kenshin about Valentine’s Day since Kenshin overhead our conversation from before and he demanded information from his vassal. It couldn’t be helped; my friend could have lost his job (and probably his head) if he kept his mouth shut.

Well, Kenshin has been out for a few days, so either way he won't have an idea on what's coming for him!

I nodded to myself as I placed my ‘gift’ carefully into a container and took it outside to wait for him to come back. It’s been quite a while since we last saw each other, and while I was occupied on my work and preparing for my gift, I still missed him each day he was away.

I was excited while preparing his gift, but I still felt nervous about giving it to him… like a girl with a crush who’s about to confess her feelings. But I reminded myself that there’s nothing to be afraid of. It’s already clear as day that Kenshin feels the same way, and we have already been through a lot.

I couldn’t wait to see his reaction when he sees this though. He’s probably going to be wearing that confused expression, which I still find cute, but he wouldn’t like hearing me making fun of him. My boyfriend is a lot of work, but I adore him.

…And I see that boyfriend riding to my direction safe and sound.

I locked eyes with Kenshin and a smile immediately bloomed on his face as he approached. He looked like a prince that popped out of a fairytale and I, like a princess who admired her prince, fell heads over heels for him all over again.

“Welcome home.”

“I’m back.” He got off his horse and stood before me, looking sort of smug. “It feels nice to be welcomed by you after being away for so long.”

I pecked a swift kiss on his smiling lips. His smug expression faltered as I giggled. “It’s only been 3 days, Kenshin. It wasn’t that long.”

“…But I missed you terribly.”

He didn’t seemed satisfied by my welcome present and he wanted me to take responsibility. He caught me firmly in his arms and leaned forward for a more daring kiss.

I almost dropped what I held in my hand in surprise, but fortunately I got ahold of myself… although it came with a little indulgence of his response to my welcome.

Before it went out of control I took a step back and whispered, “There’s people around.”

He gazed at me with conflicted eyes that looked dangerously arousing. If I didn’t know better, I would have surrendered myself to him completely.

But the day is still young.

He sighed and let me go. I wryly smiled at him. “I’m sorry, Kenshin. I missed you too, but you’ll have to wait.”

“I know.” He breathed out an airy chuckle as he stepped back. He glanced at the side and reverted back to his lordly self. “What is it, Sasuke?”

“Lord Kenshin, we will take care of everything from your travel. For now, you should rest on your quarters.”

“Hmm, fine.”

I caught Sasuke’s gaze at me and he flashed me a thumbs-up. I laughed and mouthed a ‘thanks’. When I turned to Kenshin, he quickly took something from his vassal (I wasn't able to see what it was) and was already striding inside to go to his room so I hurried my step and followed him.

When we arrived, Kenshin turned and presented what he was holding to me.

Flowers?

“Sasuke told me these… choco…lates… are not available to be produced here but it seems that’s not the only gift you can give to this day.”

“…Tulips? Where did you find these?”

“I happened to pass by them on the way, and I remember someone telling me it was a symbol of love.” He seemed to avoid my gaze after mentioning ‘someone’, and I have a good guess on who that was. Someone who adores women and is fluent in the language of romance. “I overheard your conversation with Sasuke about this Valentine’s Day. You seemed happy about the concept of it, so I wanted to have this celebration with you.”

My heart was pounding on my chest as he handed me the fresh red tulips bundled like a bouquet. He didn’t even have to do this, I mean he barely knows about Valentine’s Day and all, but he still wanted to give me something.

I never felt this happy for a Valentine's Day gift! It feels like I saved the world in my previous life!

“These flowers may beautiful and ephemeral, but our love will last forever. That I know, and that I swear.” He pressed a kiss on my forehead, like a seal for his vow to me. "On this... Valentine's Day... I will remind you that I am yours, now and until the day I die."

How can someone be so sweet?

“Thank you…” I beamed in delight as he returned it with a smile of his own. It was beautiful to look at that I almost forgot I had a gift as well. “Oh, right! This is for you.”

I handed him a food container wrapped in a pretty pink cloth. He stared at me in bewilderment as he gently placed it in the table and unraveled the cloth.

Here goes...

“...Onigiri?” He uttered as his brows furrowed while looking at it. “It has... a different shape.”

“That’s a heart symbol.” I sheepishly smiled at him as I scratched my head. “You see, I wanted to give you chocolate because it only felt right for this occasion, but it was really difficult to do it with the lack of ingredients. So I had a change of plans…”

“You don’t usually cook,” he remarked as he picked up one rice ball, “I’m grateful for your efforts.”

“Making the onigiri wasn’t really hard, but getting the shape right is the tricky part.” I shrugged. "I tried my best, but I can't guarantee it would taste amazing though."

"May I try it?"

"Of course."

I watched as he took a bite and his eyes lit up immediately in recognition. “Is this…”

“I also went with your favorite.” I smiled, pleased at his reaction. “You really like pickled plums, don’t you?”

He stared at the bitten rice ball on his hand, the conflict in his eyes returned. I grew nervous in his silence.

"...I'm not really a good cook, so I'm sorry if it tastes bad-"

"No, it's not like that." he mumbled. “It feels like a waste, eating it like this. I feel strangely... too happy."

The dark thought I had vanished almost immediately. My heart was suddenly filled with affection for him. But—

"I'd be happier if you finished it." I said. "You just came back from your trip. You must be tired, so I want you to eat well and be energized. I'd like it if you were in good health."

He gave me a thoughtful nod, taking his time to eat the rice ball. "It's delicious. Thank you."

Then he approached me all of a sudden, and cupped my cheeks with both his hands.

"I have decided." He told me as his mismatched eyes gazed at mine with clarity and resolve. "It was a simple gesture, but it made me realize a lot of things."

"...and what would those be?"

"I will take care of myself while protecting you." He smiled at me as his thumb tenderly caressed my cheek. "That way, we can be together longer. Both of us, growing old together. Can you imagine?"

Being together until the end of our lives... Living together... Staying together... Having a family together... Growing old together...

I reached out to wrap my arms around his neck as I pulled him close. "...Yes."

That is a future I want to have.

#ikemen sengoku #ikesen #Ikemen Sengoku: Romances Across Time #cybird #ikemen series #ikesen kenshin #uesugi kenshin #kenshin uesugi #ikemen sengoku fanfic #kenshin week 2019 #kenstab is a valid stab #once again cringy fluff haha #ikesen oneshot #ikemen sengoku oneshot #oneshot #ds1582 bday week #is bday fic

[eweniversal]

Secrets of A Councilwoman p2

-PART 2-

Her mind didn’t stop from going over the searing words Rinlear had thrown at her. Like reopening scarred over wounds that had long since healed, his insults seemed to tear through her flesh.

“You still can’t do anything yourself. You need big, strong men to do everything for you.”

We can do what we need by ourselves. A soothing feeling like thick, sickeningly sweet molasses oozing through her veins came with this inner voice. It always did.

Yes.. I’m dependent on no one but me.

“You would sacrifice the spawn of your womb if it granted you more power!”

We did what had to be done. The sacrifice is for the betterment of all!

And I would do it again.

“No sister of mine. You’re no sister. Not mine. You’re no SISTER of mine!”

And he is no brother!

Brothers do not abandon their sister!

“Nor a sister who’d ‘spare’ their brother out of convenience or abandon their lover! You left us! You abandoned Echertai!”

Echertai’s face flashed behind her eyelids as she continued her power walk through the castle, his face staring at her almost as clearly as if he were standing right in front of her. “Ah!” Her eyes opened wide, staring hard in front of her. All too suddenly, Rinlear’s previous actions caught up to her and sent her kneeling to the ground. Limbs shaking, she took several minutes to readjust herself to her environment.

What do we taste?

Bile.

What do we feel?

Smooth, stone floor. Cool to the touch.

Her heartbeat thundered in her ears, a ring starting to drown her thoughts.

What do we hear?

Birds.. Somewhere. Talking.. Nearby, but not getting closer. Safe from view.

The ringing slowly died away.

What do we smell?

Baking. From the kitchens. Bread, muffins, cookies?

What do we see?

Her eyes opened slowly, lifting her head to see where exactly she was. The entire layout of Maerise she knew like the back of her hand as she was intimately involved in the original building process, but where she was specifically was a passageway from the original design she’d implemented herself. It was hidden, but not completely secret, and ran near the kitchens on the ground floor. It led to a staircase that connected to a covered archway that overlooked much of the city.

Stone. Torchlight. A window. Blue sky, through the window.

Exhaling a held breath, Kotaphira stood slowly, placing a hand on the wall for support. For the first time, instead of feeling comforted by her sanctuary of stone, an essence of claustrophobia had washed over her. She needed fresh air.

Her gait picked up again as she mentally reviewed Rinlear’s words once more.

“I want you to decide upon one soul to sacrifice to me, one for every head we have in audience here. You’ll announce them by name at the city square.”

What a sick minded fool. The fact that he would suggest such a thing so vile made her stomach twist. Was he trying to use that as a ploy to upset her into giving in to some other agenda he had? He had no upper hand, nothing to bargain with! His madness must have settled well in a long time ago.

“These twisted lengths you're willing to go through will not be kept hidden."

This was what worried her most. He seemed to see through her, and not need to ask why he was detained, but rather willing to express intentions she may have with him to others. It was as if he understood he was a part of a much bigger puzzle that she was constructing.

“You left us! You abandoned Echertai!”

Her head shook and she gasped softly, pausing at this. No time for your poisonous remarks, demon. She had more important things to deal with. First of which, finding her sons. They would need to be approached, told of Rinlear, and perhaps give some tweaking to the information about him, then guide them along with the one called Boar’s Head and this other Kotaphira to where she needed them. Summoning a spirit of the dead would be no easy task, and defeating one would likely cause at least one of their deaths. If she had to choose, by process of elimination, it would have to be her doppelganger. She had no ties to the girl, and maybe, just- maybe, she could fake her own death with the death of the girl’s. Then she could, if all went well, enjoy her spoils of that Other Place. So long as the dragons were paid off for their precious gifts. That debt was one yet to be paid, and while the Ulpustur dragons had not come to collect just yet, she didn’t want to be caught blindsided. They didn’t need to know how much wealth she’d stumbled upon when she got to the Other Place- she hoped their noses were not so keen on realizing how MUCH wealth was in one spot.

The arches of the walkway she was on let in the afternoon light, and she paused mid-stride to stare at the stone floor in front of her.

-Abandoned…-

Don’t look at me.

Birds chirped, fluttering by as they flew to the walkway above.

Stop it.

From below in the city, the shouts of vendors echoed up, along with the laughter of children and the clattering of carts and hooves. A crier gave updates on the still missing princess Mylla, asking anyone for information on the young girl’s whereabouts.

With a harsh turn, Kotaphira gripped on to the stone ledge and yelled through the archway, looking not at the city below, but what loomed over, white stone perfectly poised in place nearby. “GET OUT OF MY HEAAAD!!”

Silence filled the air after the echo of her voice faded. Luckily for everyone down below, she didn’t use her magical voice in her yell. People in the streets stopped their ongoings to turn and stare up at the crazed old half-Elfirrin woman, birds flying away from the area as fast as they could.

“Shouting at him won’t bring him to life, you know.” Verusk, the king’s advisor, casually rested his shoulder on a post several feet away with his arms crossed over leather and velvet robes. Warm, for the end of spring.

You think I don’t know that! “Oh!” She turned to face him. She had been so overwhelmed with the moment she’d not realized he was standing there. “Ah… I’ll be on my way.”

He pushed himself off the pillar he was against, keeping to the shadowed area of the path as he took a few steps closer. “I think you could use someone to talk to, other than our proud marble representative on the mountain there. Captain Echertai, as good a listener as you claim he was, can only do so much now.. Come, speak with me. Would you, councilwoman?” He gave a smile that was intended to be warm.

“Ah... certainly.” She nodded curtly, needing to bite her lip at his comments about her old friend and lover. More than anything, she wanted to get back to her ‘pet project’. “Is there something you needed? Is my son giving you trouble again over allowances?” Her brain scrambled to find recent topics.

“No, Samund has been quite cooperative- he’s still learning the ropes of being on the council.” He shook his head, “Actually, there’s been talk of some secret happenings going on under our castle’s roof.” He stood straight, stiffening his pose. He was serious.

Does he know of Rinlear? Her head tilted, inquisitive at his questioning. “Secrets? Is that really a new thing, Verusk?” She teased.

His long black hair waved as a strong breeze pushed through the archways, flowers in the planters stinking the air as they danced with the wind. “Perhaps not. But this is something you may be interested in.”

“In what way?” She sounded clueless as ever, perfectly fitting her role, but still irritated that he was stopping her from getting to her goal.

“It seems..” His voice lowered as he stepped closer, not wanting his voice to carry. “Someone.. Or some people, have been poisoning our dragon eggs.”

She blinked. “What?” That was serious cause for concern. The military had recently adapted the dragon rider force over the course of the last 20 years, and it had been quite a success- not to mention these were the very gifts from the Ulpustur dragons. Precious and valuable to the Maerisian forces. Who would sabotage that?

He glanced around, checking their surroundings as his large pointed ears turned with his head. The Arc’hildean night-Elfirrin looked back to her and whispered “Perhaps here is not the best place to discuss this. Shall we go to my office?”

The last thing she wanted was a distraction, and time to do what she needed was limited. But this was… troubling. What group or person would do such a thing? “Very well.” She walked next to him, keeping her head held high.

“How has Taskell been? We hardly hear from that troublemaker these days.” Smalltalk from Verusk meant he was in a troubled mood. Which could mean the king was in some sort of danger. If the dragon eggs and hatchlings were in danger in the safest place in the castle, so too could Selreth be. Verusk never attempted to get involved with anyone unless there was something wrong with King Selreth’s safety.

“Hm.” She nodded, but didn’t say anything to respond. She didn’t have time for this, and getting involved with his safety measures was not entirely her job.

The silence between them grew, and Verusk seemed desperate to close it. “So many flowers have been blooming this spring. The apothecaries are working overtime for anti-allergen potions. It seems we are running low on- get this- frusian leaf. The thing grows like weeds on the hillsides, and no one wants to bother risking their fingers on digging them out of the ground.” He was amused at that. “So the apothecaries who have more of the potion are overpricing their products! Imagine, paying fifty LP for a simple anti-allergen potion.”

“Highway robbery due to laziness. It’s not a new concept.” She finally obliged a little to his chatter. But the silence continued once more, and she noticed his irritation, though if one did not know him well would presume he was nervous. Still, she kept silent and followed along the hallways to his office.

By the time they arrived at his office, she was in a more sour mood. Time was dropping like sand from Midra’s hourglass. He shut the door tight behind them and moved to make tea.

“I’m needed elsewhere, Verusk, and having pleasantries with the king’s advisor in closed quarters hardly seems appropriate.” Her jaws clenched, irritated. She didn’t move from her spot by the door, already feeling claustrophobic for the second time, now from the shelves of books that lined his walls and the large map of the city that hung over his tea making station. 

It seemed she hadn’t completely gotten over her episode from earlier.

He didn’t turn around as he prepared the pot, using an apothecary’s torch to light a small metal ring underneath. Carefully he put the torch away as the ring grew bright and orange, heating the water inside the pot. “Refusing tea from your host is quite an insult, even in Maerise. Isn’t that right?” He moved to set cups and cookies from a covered plate to a tray with a small container of sweetjuice from a miro’ak plant and another of milk. After the water was hot, he poured it into the cups over leaves and set it on his desk. When she made no effort to move from her spot, he picked up her cup and held it out to her. “Milk?”

“Will you get to the point!” Kotaphira huffed as she walked over, took the tea from him and set it firmly on his desk.

“Really. You can’t make a moment, even for me?” Irritation bubbled up in his tone. “We have been through enough together as it is, and you act like this now! Have I upset you that much over that incident that you still give me this cold shoulder?”

At that, she pinched the bridge of her nose and sat down. One time, and he still holds it over my head! How many years ago was that? And nothing even happened! “Was this all a ruse, just to get me alone!”

He scoffed before exhaling, turning to the large window behind his desk and opening the drapes on half the window, light from outside illuminating where she sat. “No. There is a group out there doing terrible things. But I did wish to see you. It has been awhile since we sat and… talked.” he was almost glaring at her with his golden eyes as he sat down.

She responded with a hard glare of her own, squinting from the light. “Ah, it seems we’ve talked, thank you for the tea.” She moved to get up and he laughed, sourly.

“Ahaha! Oh, you’re always in such a hurry, fair Kotaphira! Five. Minutes. Please.” His motioned to the empty chair. “We have to discuss the dragons, at least.” His frustration at her was still quite obvious.

His compliment made her skin crawl, but she sat back down anyway.

After a deep breath, he started once more, careful with his words. “The Festival of Lights is soon, and Queen Sylvarra has invited leaders from around Erai’hym, including King Selreth, his family, and a few others to join her in her palace on the Fertile Peninsula in Lutria.”

“Yes, I heard about this carousel.” She had intended to use that time to put her plan into action, but with Mylla ‘missing’, Selreth wasn’t ready to set foot anywhere if it wasn’t intended to find his precious brat.

Verusk let out an amused snort of air from his nose. “I know, you don’t care for such festivities, but considering it would be on neutral ground for once, I think it would be an excellent chance for us here to get in on her good graces. Also, seeing as you are our founder and are best at working… peaceful negotiations, you would be a valuable asset to this social get-together.”

“The king won’t have it.”

He looked confused. “How-,”

“So long as young Mylla is missing, he won’t even start to think about attending a gathering like that. You know this. Why can’t your protective mind extend further than the King and his ‘assets’?” Her head shook. “So long as you keep close minded on situations like that, you won’t get far.” She would make sure Mylla was found well before the festival, but the ruse needed to stay up- for now.

His tone turned teasing for a moment. “You insult me, councilwoman Arculum. I know where my priorities lie, and I am very familiar with what the king is motivated by.”

That wasn’t quite the response she expected from him. She thought he was going to say, The king and his family are always first to me! My loyalty is to them! That seemed to be his initial outgoing response to most things. What changed, she wondered. “What is it you are motivated by, then?”

A smirk, and he leaned back in his chair, thin fingers interlacing. “Quite simple, really. Power. But! You know me, I cannot work well without someone’s guidance and push. The dynamic between Selreth and I is a bond that is intricately entwined. If something were to happen to him, it affects me directly.”

“Then why are you not down in the streets looking for Mylla as he is?”

Had she caught him off guard? The look on his face seemed to insinuate so. But he gathered himself in a dignified and convincing way. “Someone has to cover the day-to-day nonsense.” He motioned to the stacks of paper littering his desk. “I do this, as he trusts me to, so that he may have some ease in searching for his beloved child. She is of my flesh and blood too, remember.”

“Yes, your niece’s mother is a very prominent member of our society.” Kotaphira couldn’t help the almost snotty tone she took when she said that. She disliked his sister; but, there were few people she liked. “Can we get back to the matter at hand? You mentioned dying dragons.”

“First, answer. Will you attend the festival with me?”

“No. What are the rest of these people’s motives?”

He let another dry laugh before idly tracing the rim of his cup. “You are, without a doubt, one of the most apathetic and aloof women I have ever met. If Mylla is found before then, will you attend?”

“IF she is found…” By the time she is found, I will not even be here. And if I am, this will be the least of my worries! “Ask me at a more appropriate time.” Like, never.

He seemed quite amused still. “Alright. You win. I will ask again later.” He sat back, watching her.

“So? The dragons?”

“Yes, yes. This group-,“ He sat straighter in his chair. “This group seems to have an agenda that the dragons are not welcome here. That because they are not magical like the large dragons from the Ulpustur Region, they must be creatures from Herac’ine. Not only that, if you notice, none of the dragon riders are, or have been, human.”

“What does that have to do with anything? The bond between a dragon and dragon rider is not one that happens by chance- the dragonling chooses their rider. Everyone knows this.” This did sound like a serious issue.

“People want equality, fellow councilwoman. There’s something more. There’s quite the unrest in the city, and not just from Mylla’s disappearance. Many Elfirrin and those with Elfirrin blood have reported feeling agitated and highly so. I myself have felt this uneasiness recently, but only when I’m down walking in the streets. Trocbloods, Derhanish, and others have not.” His eyebrows came together as he thought over this. “It’s possible our Elfirrin blood may have a virus of some sort that is infecting others. So be wary of that.”

“I’m fine.” Nothing out of the usual, anyway. Or.. so she figured. “About the dragons- Why did you not take this to Steirtorim?”

“He’s been out of commission for the past several weeks, under your orders, I found out. I could hound you for the reasons as to why it was so pertinent you reassign our captain to an unknown location.”

“And Stiphen? He is the commander, after all.”

“Now, I couldn’t rightly bring out an accusation like that against him.”

It took her a second to process what he meant. “You think- Stiphen is a part of this group!?” A serious accusation against the old man. There were rumors of some higher ups being racist, but racism had never been an issue in Maerise. If Verusk was one of these racists, however… “What of me? Why tell me?”

“Your motives would not follow that agenda. We all worked too hard for the chance at those dragons, none of us would threaten or hurt them now. It makes logical sense.”

“But logical sense is not proof. Bring me proof of all this- any of this, and I’ll listen to more of what you have to say. But for now, I have a meeting to arrange.” She wanted nothing more than to leave the conversation. There were more important matters to attend to than his dislike and potential slander against her city guard, and the commander, an old friend.

“The proof of the poisoning is there! All you have to do is go and see, I’ll take you to the handlers myself!”

She was already moving to leave.

“Kotaphira- why did you have Captain Steirtorim reassigned?”

“It’s a private matter.”

“So you hire a private thug. Not the city’s captain!”

“I think you’ll find he’ll be back in his own bed tonight. Check there and discuss this issue with him then, and maybe you two can speculate more on this ‘cult’ of yours.” With that, she stood and went to the door, firmly grasping the handle.

He exhaled. “Kotaphira.” His tone had softened considerably. “What should I tell Selreth you’ve done with Steir?”

Informal now. She hated the switch he was able to flip when he wanted more information. The fact that he used Steirtorim’s nickname meant he was thinking back to their ‘adventures’ thirty years prior when they made the pact with the Ulpustur dragons- Selreth, Steirtorim, Verusk, his sister Aneela, and herself were forced together at the time in that unknown place, but they learned how to work together and in the end brought back an agreement of peace and several small dragon eggs. Along with an empty promise to pay handsomely for these eggs should the Ulpustur dragons ever come to collect. Kotaphira knew as soon as her sacrifice was made and access to the Other Place was opened, those dragons would smell the wealth and gather. She’d have to share her greed, and she wasn’t quite sure how much she was ready to surrender to a bunch of money hungry fire breathing lizards.

“Ask Steirtorim that. And don’t bother me again.” She left, closing the door loudly behind her, leaving her untouched tea on the desk.

[johnnydora]

someone close to amy dies, jake (and maybe kids) do their best to get her through it. also sending hugs!!!

how did u know i think about this concept all the time?? also this ended up being the longest fic i’ve written in two years did u just cure my depression?? shoutout to @elsaclack for giving this a read thru ily!!!!

When Detective Peralta steps through the doors of the Brooklyn’s 61st precinct, he’s greeted with a smile. “Jake! It’s so lovely to see you again. She’s in a meeting right now, but I’ll let her know you’re here!”

“Thank you, Lucy.” He tries his best, but his own smile doesn’t reach his eyes.

It’s nearly twenty minutes before the captain’s door opens and Amy steps out, shaking hands with the man exiting her office. She smiles, too, when she sees Jake, and he almost drops to the floor there and then. He vowed to preserve her happiness, until death do them apart, and he hasn’t broken that promise in five years. Today, he will.

“Hey, babe! We didn’t have plans today, did we?” In the quick moment she takes to check her watch, Jake lets his smile drop. “It can’t be your lunch break already.”

“No, actually, I’m still on the job.”

He slides past her, without the usual kiss on her cheek, and closes the door behind her when she follows. The light filtering in through the windows is clear and bright, a beautiful spring morning. Just a few hours ago, Amy was opening the windows in the kitchen, little Sadie in her arms, pointing out the new sprouts blooming after the heavy winter. She was smiling, laughing, sprinkling kisses over Jake’s face before they left for work. It was supposed to be a happy day.

“You should sit down.”

He directs her to one of the seats in the back of the room where he can sit next to her, hold her hand between his.

“Jake?” He won’t meet her eyes. “You’re scaring me.”

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. “Carlos was found dead Tuesday evening.”

There’s a moment where Amy’s face falls, but she builds it back up, and takes her hand from his. “Okay,” she says. “Is that all?”

He watches her stand up, rearrange a few items on her desk that were already straight.

“Amy.”

“You should get back to the 99. I’ll see you tonight.”

And she smiles, teeth white and eyes shining. Jake takes a deep breath.

“Yeah. See you tonight.”

She’s home before he is, which isn’t a surprise. It was her turn to pick up the kids from daycare. One of them comes running at him before he can close the door, her pigtails flying. He swoops her up in the air, dangling her upside down just a little until she squeals.

“Hey, peanut, how was your day?”

As she tells him something about the robot they built out of recycled materials, Jake wanders further into the apartment. The television is on, playing one of Bella’s shows. The kitchen is empty except for some animal crackers left under the cabinet.

“Where’s Mama?” he asks, flying the four-year-old back to the couch.

She screeches until he plops her down. “Napping.”

“And your sister?”

“Napping.”

She’s getting engrossed back into her tv show, so he knows he has to act fast to get any information out of her.

“Did you have anything to eat?”

“Shh, Daddy.”

He leans over the couch to kiss her cheek, even if she pushes him away a little. On his way down the hall, he checks on Sadie first, who’s sound asleep in her crib. Amy, however, is wide awake in bed and staring at the ceiling. Gently, he climbs in next to her.

“How you doing?”

She doesn’t answer for a while, so he turns his head to look at her.

“Mom called.” She drifts her eyes down to meet his. “The funeral’s next weekend.”

When he reaches for her hand, she drifts closer, curling into his chest. She’s motionless against him, her breath steady, and he knows she isn’t crying. Hasn’t cried yet. He thought he’d seen her and all of her ways—screaming rage and silent tears and that small smile when she can’t meet your gaze. He’s never seen her lose a brother.

“Do you need anything?”

“They identified him this morning,” she whispers. “Why did it take so long?”

“Ames—”

“I need to know how it happened.”

The air grows darker around them, pressing down. Or perhaps that’s his lungs, collapsing under the weight of his knowledge of the crime. Seeing the body, bloody and crushed halfway under the car. Jake runs his hand down her back, hoping she can’t tell that they’re shaking.

“It was a hit and run. Literally, the man climbed out of his totaled car and ran.” He stops to take a deep breath. When he was first assigned the case to find the runaway, he laughed. Run, run, as fast as you can, Toyata-man! His throat tightens, and he presses a small kiss to the top of Amy’s head. An apology. “Carlos was just a pedestrian, caught in the middle.”

“Why could no one identify him?”

“He—he was hit pretty bad.”

“How bad?”

He moves his lips to her forehead. “I don’t think—”

“I have a right to know.”

His arm is thrown off her as she gets up and starts pacing the floor. She’s mad now. He just watches, waits for her to slow down, maybe collapse and start sobbing. Her feelings always go in and out like waves, and he can’t tell what to expect next. But she stops, sits back on the bed by his feet.

“I have a right to know,” she whispers again.

He’s about to sit up and join her at the end of the bed, but their door squeaks open, and Bella pushes her face through the crack.

“Is it dinner time?”

Amy scoops her up with a smile. “Of course, mi reina. What do you want?”

As “marshmallows!” trails down the hall, Jake rubs a hand down his face. He stays there until the pizza delivery man arrives.

It’s not even two days until Amy gets her hands on the case file. He recognizes it immediately—it was on his desk only two hours ago. She’s hunched over the coffee table, spoon feeding bananas to Sadie as she goes. He’d heard her greet him when he came in through the door, but he still approaches cautiously, sitting gently by her feet.

“Where’d you get that?”

“Rosa.”

Amy flips to the next page, and he silently takes over banana duty.

It’s another three days when her steady facade falters. They took the girls out to the city today—Bella loves staring up at the skyscrapers, and she swears she’s going to build her own next year when she’s all grown up. She’s dancing through a little play fountain when Jake catches Amy fiddling with something in her purse.

He leans forward to press a kiss to her cheek, stealing a glance down as he does. Amy notices the moment she’s been caught.

“I haven’t opened it,” she says.

“Okay.”

“I don’t even carry a lighter anymore.”

He knows. She threw them all away the second they learned she was pregnant the first time around. Leaning his head against hers, he slips the cigarette box out of her hands and intertwines his fingers with hers instead. For a moment, he thinks she’s finally about to cry, but then she shifts away from him, and calls for Bella to come over. It’s time to head home.

Sometimes, she moves slowly. Like in the mornings when she waits for the third alarm before rising to her feet and starting her day, putting in a little less effort than usual. Other times, she’s unstoppable. Juggling two kids at once and managing three other chores at the same time.

Only once does she acknowledge her feelings on the matter, when they’re tucked in bed with the lights off. She mumbles into his chest, “Why did it have to be him?”

He doesn’t have an answer to that.

The funeral is louder than he anticipated. It makes sense, with the entire Santiago clan, including relatives he’s never even heard of, milling around and spreading condolences. Jake’s on daughter duty for the most part, watching from a distance and not getting too involved. But it’s hard to ignore the lump in his throat after his sixth brother-in-law says hello, and he keeps expecting the seventh that will never show.

He watches Amy drift slowly around, though she never strays too far from him. Every few minutes she returns to his side for a quick break. But she always puts a smile back on, braving herself for the next overbearing hug.

“You don’t have to be strong, y’know.” It’s something he’s been telling her every day since the accident.

She just puts on another smile. “I’m fine. Really.”

The first time Jake cries, Bella’s tugging on his sleeve as the immediate family gathers around the coffin with flowers.

“Where’s Tio Carlos?” she asks.

They tried to explain it before the funeral, sitting down with her and introducing the concept of an afterlife—they never wanted to force a religion on their children, but it was the only explanation they had. She only shrugged it off, asked if she could wear her light up sneakers instead of the boring Mary Janes.

So he stays silent and holds her closer to him, pressing kiss after kiss to her hair. She puts up with it for a few moments, then wriggles out of his grasp.

“Can I throw a flower, too?”

He sneaks a final kiss onto her nose, and decides it’s not worth the fight to keep her in her seat.

“Go ask Mama.” He sets her free.

It’s one month after the accident when Amy wakes up shaking and sweaty. Jake frowns as he slowly becomes conscious—he’s always been slow to wake—and throws a hand loosely in his wife’s direction before he manages to regain full function of his limbs and pull himself up to firmly wrap his arms around her.

“Breathe, Ames.” His lips ghost over the shell of her ear.

She takes a staggering breath in, then falls into him, sobs wracking her frame. He continues whispering in her ear, breathing through his mouth to encourage her to match his breaths. Though his hands are shaking where they trace her skin. He’s used to her occasional panic attack and her less often night terrors, but he’s never seen her quite this far gone.

It all stops abruptly, and Jake lifts her from him to look into her eyes. He recognizes what she needs instantly, and pulls her with him off the bed. They only make it just past the bathroom door  before she’s heaving and vomiting onto the tiles at her feet. Her knees buckle, and he carries her the few feet to the toilet before setting her down.

“Deep breaths,” he reminds her, pulling back her hair and securing it with an elastic band. He kisses her temple before fetching her a glass of water, then goes to clean up the bathroom floor as well.

“I’m sorry,” she whimpers.

He sits behind her when he’s done, stroking her back as she continues emptying out the contents of her stomach.

“What for?” he asks when she’s done, leaning back into him and away from the toilet.

She doesn’t have an answer for him, just turns her head into his chest and relearns how to breathe.

The nightmares aren’t a constant, but they return every once in a while. Some nights, they stay up talking, taking turns sharing their fears, what they’re grateful for. One night, Bella pokes her head through the door, tears on her face.

Jake beckons her towards him, pulls her up into his lap.

“What’s wrong, peanut?”

She grabs his shirt into fists, stealing glances at Amy. “Is Mama okay?”

He glances at her, too. She’s still against Jake’s side, but she curled more into the pillows when Bella arrived. Her head is turned away, though, probably to keep Bella from seeing her tears.

“Mama just misses Tio Carlos,” he says.

Bella crawls forward, trying to wrap her arms around her mother’s middle. “It’s okay, Mama. He’s in the heaven. It’s good. It has ice cream.”

There’s a moment where Amy’s breath catches, then she’s turning back towards Bella and enveloping her in her arms. Jake leans in and surrounds them both, and there they remain. For a little while.

“Mama?” Bella whispers. “Mama, mama, mama?”

“What is it, mi reina?”

“Can we have ice cream, too?”

She smiles and wipes away her tears. No more seem to follow.

“Of course.”

On their way to the kitchen, Jake grabs a sleeping Sadie and sits down with her on the floor, his back against the counters. Bella jumps around, way too hyper for three in the morning, so Jake tugs her down, too. Tells her stories about the ice cream monster.

Amy joins them with three giant bowls of ice cream moments later, settling down on Jake’s other side. She leans her head against his shoulder as he finishes his wild tales, tickling Bella with his free hand at the finale. Amy laughs along, her fingers tracing along Sadie’s head. He’s a bit delirious, a bit sleep deprived, but he’s certain it’s the happiest he’s ever been.

As for Amy, she never has a nightmare about her brother again.

#i am perfectly aware i do not follow the stereotypical peraltiago child hcs #love me anyway pls #ALSO its more clear as u keep reading but #carlos is amy's bro #peraltiago #my fic #anon #asked #btw thx for the hugs im love u

[kikisfics]

Flowers

@hummingbirdweek

So this was a completely unplanned posting and I got inspiration for it, using the Season prompt for Flown North/Hummingbird Week 2k18. A certain someone posting her cosplay pics inspired this teeth-rotting fluff. (Really, I’m not complaining because this is an adorable piece and I enjoyed writing it.)

Title: Flowers

Links: [AO3][FFN][Wattpad] Or read beneath the cut

Chapter Rating: K+

Characters: Summer Rose, Qrow Branwen, Raven Branwen

Summary: Mistral is beautiful in the spring.

Preview:

“S-Summer, what—”

“Your sister.” She dropped the bag onto the bed and flopped down, staring at the ceiling. She loved Raven, she really did, but it didn’t mean she liked everything about her. Summer though she was stubborn, but she had nothing on Raven.

She felt Qrow settle next to her on the bed and he looked down at her, a soft smile on his face. “Yeah. Now imagine growing up with that.” He chuckled softly and she managed a small smile. It was a running joke between them at this point. Regardless, she reached up and rested her hands on his cheeks, one of his hands coming to rest over hers.

Summer had known that spring was a big deal for the central Mistrali; the culture classes during Beacon had explained as much. She’d seen students from the region dress in traditional clothes and have picnics outside as the flowers started blooming. She’d always found the bright colors and patterns beautiful, but she’d thought it was simply for them.

    Apparently, being there changed things.

    Her face burned as Raven dragged her into a shop and spoke to the tailors in their native language. The fast, frantic pace as they held up garments and then put them away left her breathless. Removing her cloak had not been fun, but she’d had little choice: once Raven sat her mind to something, there was no stopping her. She’d learned as much over the past four years.

    Eventually, though, Raven shoved her out of the shop, bags in hands with their purchases. She clapped her hands together, crimson eyes shining. “Let’s go back to the hotel and get changed! Oh, the flowers are beautiful this time of year…” Summer just bled a mixture of frustration, confusion, and impatience to her best friend. They had a mission to complete and she didn’t like being held back from it. Ozpin had sent them himself which meant it was important.

    Raven just stuck her tongue out, eyes still full of warmth. “Oh come on, Summer; don’t be such a spoilsport! Ozpin told us to enjoy the culture a little bit! Plus, it’s just one day and the essence of the Mistrali concept of mono no aware.” Summer’s blood continued boiling and Raven just rolled her eyes, putting her hands on Summer’s shoulders. If she’d been team leader, they’d be going straight to take care of things. Work first, play later. She didn’t care if Ozpin had told them otherwise; they needed to get their work done.

    Unfortunately, all she could do was let Raven push her back to the hotel. She stopped and turned an icy glare on her friend before heading into Qrow and Taiyang’s room, slamming the door behind her. Summer blinked and stared when she saw Qrow tying an obi around his waist. He jumped and swore when the door slammed shut, the cloth falling to the floor. One of the lightbulbs hissed as it gave out and color entered his cheeks. “S-Summer, what—”

    “Your sister.” She dropped the bag onto the bed and flopped down, staring at the ceiling. She loved Raven, she really did, but it didn’t mean she liked everything about her. Summer though she was stubborn, but she had nothing on Raven.

    She felt Qrow settle next to her on the bed and he looked down at her, a soft smile on his face. “Yeah. Now imagine growing up with that.” He chuckled softly and she managed a small smile. It was a running joke between them at this point. Regardless, she reached up and rested her hands on his cheeks, one of his hands coming to rest over hers.

    “I can’t say I expected you to get into this, Qow.” She really couldn’t. It was odd to see him just roll over and accept one of Raven’s crazy proposals without an annoyed huff. It just didn’t make much sense.

    It at least earned a chuckle. “Yeah, I guess I just have a few good memories of this time of year.” She nodded, knowing he probably wouldn’t say anything beyond that. He didn’t speak of the tribe in positive terms like Raven, so it was definitely a strange moment. She knew it wasn’t as bad as he made it out to be but…

    “Uh, Qrow, since you seem to know what you’re doing, mind helping me get dressed?” Instantly, red cheeks replaced his soft smile and he gave an awkward cough.

    “Shouldn’t you ask Ra—” The sharp look silenced him and he ran a hand through his hair, cheeks growing redder. She’d had enough of her partner for a few hours. “I-If you’re sure…”

    “It’s just skin, Qrow; it’s nothing to get worked up over.” She sat up and unclasped her cloak, letting it fall onto the bed, followed quickly by the ammunition belts, shirt, and pants. She could only let out an amused noise as he turned away, one hand covering his eyes. She full well knew about his feelings for her, but even so, it was still hilarious to see Qrow of all people so off guard. “Seriously, Qrow, you can look.”

    He let out a small noise of embarrassment and sighed before looking at her. She just grinned and his blush deepend further before he turned his attention to the bag. “Uh, yeah. Getting the kimono itself on isn’t too hard; it’s the obi that’s the real challenge…”

    Over the next forty-five minutes or so, he helped her with the seemingly endless reams of cloth until she felt like a wrapped present. It wasn’t suffocating, but it was uncomfortably tight. When she took a step, she almost fell and it was only Qrow’s quick reflexes that saved her from hitting the floor. She let out a long string of swears as she looked up at him. “I don’t like this; I can barely move.” Even with her cloak, she’d gotten used to having a free, full range of motion if she needed to react to something.

    Qrow just smiled and helped her stand up, straightening her obi a little. “It’ll be all right, Summer; you can lean on me and I’ll help you.” She gave a reluctant nod and sighed, blowing at her bangs. She still hated not being able to do simple things on her own, but she knew by now she could rely on her team.

    He reached into the bag and she blinked, flushing a little as he put a decoration in her hair. Had Raven slipped it in? She hadn’t noticed it before. Regardless, her attention drew away from it as she heard him exhale. “You look wonderful…” She flushed and looked down, digging her scroll out of her cloak.     “Thanks… Think you could take a picture?” This reminded her a lot of both Vytal festival dances… His reaction to her… The warmth and care…

Hh nodded and took her scroll after she unlocked it and snapped the photo, a light tinge to her cheeks. She stashed it in her obi, smiling as Qrow offered her an arm. “Ready to go?”

She managed a small smile and nodded as she attached to him. “Yeah.”

The day proved to be much more fun than anticipate. A wide array of booths lined the streets with silly games to win cheap toys. Summer tried her hand at a few, but Qrow’s Semblance (per usual) foiled her efforts. It still led to both of them laughing at the misfortunate for once rather than Qrow getting down on himself (much to her relief).

Night started to fall, though, and she heard Raven’s ringtone go off. Hey, are you near the central park? She raised an eyebrow at the odd question. Why was she asking? She was ready to crash in the hotel after all the activity.

Yeah, but I’m exhausted.

Come to the tree at the top of the hill on the park’s tallest hill. Just a little longer! Please? She felt Raven’s excitement bleed over to her and she sighed. It was so hard to ignore her best friend. She was like an excitable puppy half the time…

We’re near an alley. Just come get us. She didn’t feel like walking all that way. She felt Qrow exhale and looked at him, a mischievous smile on his face. Somehow, she didn’t like it.

“Tell her we’ll walk.”

Why did she not like this?

Qrow says we’ll walk. See you in a bit.

;)

Summer blinked as Qrow lifted her into his arms. Her embarrassment radiated out, though his only response was a chuckle. He smiled at her warmly, placing a kiss on her head. “It’ll be all right, princess; I got you.” She shot a glare at him, only get another amused chuckle.

Even for as big as the city was, the park quickly became rather dark as they headed up higher on the hill. Really, it was more like a small mountain with how much it raised. The trees thickened and her grip on his neck tightened. She still hated more naturalistic environments due to the sheer unpredictability, but at least this one was manicured to a degree.

Eventually, they reached the top of the hill and Qrow sat her down, her silver eyes wide. A blanket sat underneath a massive cherry tree, the full moon’s beams dappling the ground. Raven smiled and gave a small bow before leaving, though her crimson eyes shone as she did.

Summer walked over to the blanket and sat down, Qrow sliding next to her. He wrapped an arm around her and pulled her close, gesturing to the sky. It took only a few moments for fireworks to start and she smiled, resting against him fully.

“Hope today wasn’t as bad as you thought it’d be.” His soft tone warmed her and she closed her eyes as she shook her head. Fingers combed through her short hair and she leaned into the gesture.

“…Yeah, it was really great.”

#RWBY #Summer Rose #Qrow Branwen #Flown North #hummingbirdweek #Raven Branwen

[jacenpetertodd]

❛❛This mark. It appeared this morning. I don’t want it - I. Don’t. Want. It.❜❜ um? whatever ur current top ship is?

Idk if it’s my top ship, but I’vebeen wanting to write some Amanda/Litzibitz and soulmates are a veryWendimoorian concept, so here you go. Also this turned into a fix-it bc honestly how could it not

-- 

At first, Amanda thought she mightbe having another attack. The black mark on her wrist definitely wasn’t therelast night.

But it wasn’t painful. It didn’tfeel any sort of way, really, and her hallucinations were always more aboutsensation than sight.

This was a simple darkening of herskin in roughly the shape of a flower in bloom.

Honestly, it looked like a tattooshe might have chosen to get on her own, if she had ever considered a tattoofor more than the few seconds it took to remember that the needles would almostinevitably set off her pararibulitus. (The first few years she’d had thedisease, they’d tried to draw blood for testing several times. It had alwaysresulted in her screaming on the floor.)

So, surprise tattoo was probablyout. But she was in a fantasy land, and she had teleported three of her bestfriends across dimensions a couple days ago.

Maybe this was some sort of magicthing?

So, her first course of action wasto ask Wakti Wapnasi. She didn’t much like the answer.

“There’s this mark on my wrist? It appeared this morning?” She heldout her arm to display it.

“Your soul mark,” the forest witchdeclared immediately.

“What?”

“Do you not have those in yourworld?”

“What? Random tattoos that appearovernight? Nope. Not ringing any bells.”

Wakti revealed a faded symbol onher neck. A black circle over two thick lines. Amanda had noticed it before,but always assumed it was simply a tattoo.

“Everyone in Wendimoor has one. Itwill lead you to your soulmate.”

“So now there’s a mark on my skintelling me who I’m going to fall in love with?” Amanda was having troubleunderstanding how exactly this worked. “That’s bullshit. I don’t want this.”

“Not lover,” Wakti corrected her.“Soulmate. It can be a lover, but all it means is that it’s someone who isimportant in your destiny. Mine led me to Mona Wilder.”

“Mona Wilder? The woman from myworld you’ve been working with?”

“That’s right.”

“But, I don’t understand. I’m notfrom your world. I shouldn’t have one.”

“You may not be ‘from’ here, butyou are part of this world now, are you not?” Wakti pointed out.

Amanda stormed out of the cave ina huff.

 Several hours of stressfuldecisions later, Amanda was taking a runaway prince home and trying to stop afeud. Normal stuff. Sort of. Not really.

“Don’t move!”

Just when she thought her lifecouldn’t get any weirder, there was a pink-haired girl in a cowboy hat pointingan oversized pair of scissors at her.

The pink hair she could deal with.The cowboy hat was a bit much.

“I guarantee, whatever you’re madabout, it has nothing to do with us,” Amanda snapped, raising her hands insurrender nonetheless.

“Litzibitz!  Her wrist!” one of their captors – a womanwith equally pink dreadlocks – shouted.

Amanda realized that her new markwas clearly visible. What kind of hang-up did this world have with their fatetattoos?

But the cowgirl – Litzibitz? – hadsheathed her scissors and was frantically pulling up her sleeve, revealing amark on her own wrist. She stepped forward and reached out for Amanda’s wrist,which Amanda hesitantly offered. The girl held their arms beside each other,and it became clear.

“They match,” Litzibitz murmured.

She looked Amanda directly in theeye, although what she was searching for Amanda couldn’t say.

“Why are you here?” she asked.

“I’m helping Farson return to hisfamily.”

“Farson Dengdamor?”

“I ran away,” Farson explained.“And Amanda thinks I should go back and try to talk sense into my mother.”

“Well, we all know that won’twork,” another woman, this one with giant knitting needles, muttered.

“Hey! Why not?” Amanda asked.

“I’ve been trying to tell you,”Farson said. “My mother won’t listen to reason.”

“Frija Dengdamoor is well knownfor her pigheadedness,” Litzibitz agreed.

“That is my mother you’re talkingabout!” Farson snapped.

“Am I wrong?”

Farson didn’t reply, which reallysaid it all.

“Listen, we have to do something!”Amanda insisted. “You can’t all just run away.”

“It just so happens that myfriends and I are on our way to meet Silas Dengdamoor and talk of peace,”Litzibitz said. Her eyes met Amanda’s, suddenly shy. “You could join us, ifyou’d like?”

Amanda thought for a moment. “Newplan, Farson. Let’s go see your brother.”

She told herself it wasn’t becauseof the mark on her wrist, or the soft6 curve of Litzibitz’s smile.

--

As the Trosts and the Dengdamoorsseemed poised for peace, Amanda turned to look at her new soulmate, and sawmovement in the trees. Movement, and a gun. Fear constricted her chest, andsuddenly she was drowning. Water poured into her lungs.

Litzibitz grabbed her hand, andAmanda was pulled just enough back to reality that she remembered who she wasand what she could do. With a burst of concentration, she dragged the waterinto reality. And then she dragged herself out of it.

--

She admitted that attempting torealize her hallucinations and teleport at the same time may have been anoveruse of her powers, and possibly all just an overreaction. But consideringthat she used to just scream, she decided it was an improvement.

She helped a struggling Litzibitzout of the pool and examined the motley crew she’d dragged with her in herpanic.

Litzibitz and her friends, Farson,Silas, his bodyguard. And Todd. Staring at her like she’d grown a second head.

She looked around the cave,slightly disturbed to find it empty.

Barely sparing another glance forthe ones she’d saved, she ran outside, to see her mentor facing the might of… abloody woman with a wand duct-taped to her arm?

Litzibitz was quick to follow heroutside, and already unsheathing her scissors.

“Who are you, and why do youthreaten Wakti Wapnasi?” she demanded.

Before the woman could reply, shewas knocked backwards into a tree by a blast of air. Silas Dengdamoor held theweapon, an oddly shaped air horn.

“Her name’s Suzie Boreton,” Toddexplained, standing behind Silas. “She’s a nasty piece of work.”

“Certainly looks like it,” Amandaremarked.

“So, what do we do now?” Litzibitzasked. “They were listening! We almost had peace! And then we all justvanished. How is my father going to take that?”

“Don’t worry,” Amanda said. “We’llfigure it out. And… if it helps you feel better, I don’t think we left asuccessful negotiation. I think… I saw one of the Kellum Knights in the trees.That’s why I panicked.”

“But-”

“Litzibitz Trost,” Wakti said. Itwas no louder than her normal voice, but it seemed to echo around the forestnonetheless.

Litzibitz approached the forestwitch reverently.

“I see you still have a part toplay in this after all,” Wakti murmured. “You are an amplifier.”

“A what?”

“Amanda Brotzman, you must havefelt it. When she is near, your power is greater, more easy to use.”

“That does explain how Iteleported eight people, most of whom I barely know,” Amanda mused.

“I’m not just going to be used assome magic talisman while other people fix things!” Litzibitz insisted.

Her friends had drawn closer in aprotective circle.

“That’s not what I want either,”Amanda pointed out. “Magic solutions don’t tend to work the way you want themto. Look, we’ve got representatives from both your houses here. Why don’t wemake this our base, and draft some sort of peace agreement? And then I candeliver it to your families through the pool, and no one has to risk theirlives. Sound like a plan?”

“That does seem… rather wise,”Silas admitted. “Is there any way we could bring Panto here as well? It doesn’tseem fair to have two Dengdamoor heirs to one Trost heir.”

“And you miss him,” his tallbodyguard observed.

“And I miss him,” Silas agreedeasily.

“I could try summoning him throughthe pool,” Amanda suggested. “But I don’t know if it will work. The last peopleI summoned were people I knew pretty well.”

“Well, you have me,” Litzibitzpointed out. “I’m some sort of amplifier, right? And I know him very well.”

Amanda smiled at her. Wakti hadtold her that soulmates weren’t necessarily lovers, but the more she got toknow Litzibitz Trost, the more she thought she might not mind if they were.

“I think this just might work.”

#dghda #this is 100% self-indulgent and I don't care #boycottromance