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azsazz · 28 days ago

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Shining Armor (Part 2)

Knight!Azriel x Princess!Reader (Rhysand's Sister)

Summary: For @sapphirelunawolfie who said "Knight!Az x Princess!Reader" and inspired me 💙

Warnings: Graphic depictions of violence.

Word Count: 1841

Notes: This eats I'm not even going to lie.

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Azriel doesn’t know why you’re here.

Here, in the middle of the Night Court King’s throne room.

Here, sitting on a throne of your own, placed slightly behind your father’s.

Here, where there is a noticeably absent seat on the dais.

He stands at your side, stiff as a board, hand perched on the hilt of his sword. He studies the room with rapt attention. How straight Rhysand sits on his own throne, instead of the usual blasé way he lounges during a ball. The longing glances you keep taking at the empty throne beside your father’s. The sharp jaw and angry eyes of the King. The way his golden rings dig into the wooden armrests of his seat.

The pale sliver of skin on his fourth finger where a ring used to sit.

The setting sun cascades through the stained-glass windows near the ceiling. Blots of color paint the walls. Azriel knows exactly which pane paints the room crimson. He memorized the tales behind each and every one of the eight windows lined perfectly beside each other long ago. This particular artwork always seemed to scream bad omens in his ears, and the hair at his nape stands on end.

Azriel blames it on the icy cold chainmail.

He doesn’t want you here. Not when you’re in mourning. Not when he can hear the soft sniffles you’re trying to stifle.

He hates the King for this, for summoning you, Rhysand, and his retinue when the entire Court is in misery.

Whatever is going to happen here tonight, it must be important.

King Dornan sits so still on his throne he looks like the gargoyles perched on every terrace of the castle. His violet eyes are hard, filled to the brim with bloodthirsty vengeance. His black cape drapes carelessly over his shoulder, spilling down the side of his throne as if he stormed in here twenty minutes ago and barked out orders to gather everyone closest to the family, and to arrive as quickly as possible.

Cassian stands beside Rhys, just as confused. Rhysand had been visiting you when one of the King’s messengers raced down the hall, startling the two knights standing guard outside your room. Azriel and Cassian had been conversing softly when the scrawny boy came running by. His steps echoed so loudly in the hall he heard you and your brother quiet on the other side of the door.

Their hands had found their swords quickly, and the boy would have been dead if they hadn’t recognized him the split second, he rounded the corner. Azriel and Cassian were the best trained knights in the kingdom with the exception of Rott, the King’s personal guard. The boy had been a panting mess, his blue eyes terrified as he delivered the summons.

The doors to the chamber swing open with an angry force that makes Azriel itch to throw himself in front of you, to protect you from the army of guards that whip into the room. The metal of their armor clangs loudly, but it’s the screams that pierce Azriel’s ears that really have him on edge. He wants you out of here, right the fuck now.

It’s not the first sentencing you’ve attended, but it’s the first sentencing you’ve attended since your mother’s murder only a few nights prior. You were supposed to be with her that fateful night, but she had convinced you to stay and keep your father company, sit with him in the lounge and challenge him in a game of chess while she went to visit Rhysand a few villages over.

She never made it. And you haven’t left your bed chamber since.

The guards drag two wailing men between them. Immediately, Azriel knows what’s happening. The lack of a public viewing, the quickness in which the King called for you and your brother.

These are the men that killed your mother, and the King is about to make his revenge a family affair.

Azriel fights the urge to whisk you through the secret door in the back of the room. You don’t need to see this, you’ve been through enough this week. You should be resting, mourning in your rooms while he stands just outside the door, his heart rattling behind his chest plate at every sob he pretends he doesn’t hear.

He’s wanted to burst inside and console you for days, but that is not his role. He doesn’t think about you, the Princess of the Night Court. He’s hardly even supposed to talk to you, but he can’t deny the magnetism that draws him to you. He’s intrigued, and as the knight from the top of his class, the one that holds one of the highest positions in the King’s eyes, should not be thinking of you more than a duty.

“Azriel,” the King calls. He doesn’t startle, but his breath shallows slightly in surprise. Not enough for anyone to notice.

You twist in your chair, brows furrowed in confusion. He doesn’t know why he’s being summoned, either, but he waits for one of the guards lining the walls to fill his place before he takes the few steps to join the King at his side.

It’s Bryaxis that takes his spot. Azriel doesn’t like taking leave from your side, but if there’s anyone who is as serious at his job as he is, it’s Bryaxis. He has the build, custom-made armor hangs from his large frame, nearly double the size of Azriel.

You want to reach out and snag Azriel’s hand as he passes. You don’t understand what’s going on, why your father is requesting his presence. You don’t like anything that’s happened this past week, and worry digs into your chest. You don’t want anything else to happen.

“Yes, my King?” Azriel answers once he reaches the throne. He stares straight ahead like a loyal soldier, awaiting his orders.

“Cassian,” the King calls, ignoring Azriel.

Despite knowing not to interrupt his father, Rhysand murmurers a confused, “Father?”

Again, the request for attention is denied. The King glares down at the two men who have been forced to their knees before the dais. A steady flow of blood patters to the stone beneath their curled forms. One of the guards behind the perpetrators digs his fingers into the matter black hair on the top of his head and yanks. With a sharp grunt, the man’s head is wrenched up, and all Azriel can focus on is your gasp of shock behind him.

Half of the man’s face is split open, almost right down the center. One of his eyes is completely gone, bludgeoned from its socket. Blood pours rivulets down his bare chest, stripped of everything except his raggedy pants. The blackening liquid dries in his chest hair.

The second man is face down on the floor. Azriel’s not sure if he’s already dead, but when the King demands him to wake and the knights closest to him begin prodding him roughly with the tips of their steel-lined boots, his lashes flutter.

These are the men that killed the Queen. Your mother. They’re poor excuses for men, trying to disguise themselves by rolling around in the dirt and thinking they’d blend with the villagers. King Dornan hasn’t let any of his soldiers sleep until they were found, interrogated, and executed.

And, well, the throne room is definitely dressed for an execution.

The King eases slightly in his chair, and with a flick of his jeweled hand, he orders Azriel and Cassian. “Avenge the Cunningham’s for the loss of our beloved Queen.”

Neither he nor Cassian hesitate. They step down the dais at equal pace, their boots thundering loudly, menacingly, with each step they take. Their swords croon a taunting lullaby as they unsheathe them, and the men on the floor beg and plead an infantile song in reply.

They should hold their breath. There is no changing the Kings mind.

The only person Azriel is worried about is you. He wishes he could turn around to see the look on your face, to see how you’re faring with this order. He wants to look you in the eye as he kills the man who did the very same to your mother. He’s doing this for you.

He and Cassian are fortitudes of marble. They’re been trained to feel nothing, used to slay enemies and traitors alike for the King, until he and his wife deemed their skillset perfect for protecting his children. King Dornan wanted nothing but the best for his family. Protection. Intelligence. Togetherness.

And these men took that from you.

The man on the floor doesn’t move, accepting his fate. Cassian stares harshly at the man, disgusted. He’d prefer it if her put up a fight, showed him what he was made of that night in the middle of the woods where they ambushed the Queen and her guards.

Azriel’s traitor tries. He fights against the wrought-iron chains that hold his arms behind his back. Even if he didn’t have them, Azriel wouldn’t care. He would be no match for the knight that stands before him, staring down at him like a Death God all his own.

Azriel knows why he’s been chosen with this task.

The steel of his blade meets little resistance when it hits the bone of the man’s neck. Blood splatters, and Azriel doesn’t make a sound. The man’s head teeters for a moment, as if it doesn’t know which way to topple to the stone. His face is frozen in shock. Within a second his head goes rolling to the floor, his body following with a wet thud.

Cassian’s blade is pulled from the lifeless man on the floor’s head with a slick noise.

Azriel watches, waits for the familiar shadowy slivers to slip from their bodies. No one in the room besides the King notices, which is why Azriel was chosen for this particular job. His fellow knights don’t know. You certainly don’t know why he stands over their bodies when Cassian has already spun on his heel and knelt to his King, but you are curious.

Finally, two razor-thin plumes rise from the bodies. Their souls.

Azriel summons the shadows from the corners of the room. They follow obediently, following the cracks and shadows on the floor, behind guards, beneath his boots to consume the souls of the men who have committed the ultimate act of treason.

Their screams still ring in his ears, but they’re silenced by the mass of other souls Azriel rules over. Now, they’re his. Should the King request it, he can pluck them out of the river of black that follows him everywhere he goes.

When the ringing stops, Azriel turns on his heel and lowers himself to the ground, resting his hands on the hilt of his sword and dipping his chin. “My King,” he says, and with those words, his King knows the deed is done.

“You may rise,” King Dornan says with the hint of a sinister smile on his lips.

#acotar #azsazz #acomaf #acowar #azriel #azriel x reader #azriel/reader #azriel au #azriel x reader au #knight!azriel #night court

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bunnwich · 8 months ago

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Gifts (Leona Kingscholar)🧡

Leona muses on the gift you leave him for Valentine's Day. (Based on the official merch twst 2024 Valentine gift messages)

Characters: Leona Kingscholar, Yuu/MC!Reader (Can be framed as platonic or romantic)

Words: 936 words, Leona's POV

Notes: Wanted to challenge myself to do something short and sweet in a few hours and was inspired to improve upon yet another dry official Leona gift message response.

Gifts.

They came easy over the years, like plucking an oversweet tart from a dessert tray. He was disliked, feared even, but lucky for him easy on the eyes — and still a prince to occasionally bow and scrape to. So many folks over the years were eager to oblige him and follow the traditions of the Sunset Savanna. Idolize the royals; the divine oligarchy. He was simply “lucky” enough to be born under that umbrella. That’s all.

Those gifts and attention fed him for a while, but if he was being honest, some part of him always remained hungry.

After all, shiny trinkets were nothing like a dusty old book or the heady cedar smell of a well-used chess set. What was the value of pretty baubles to sit on shelves of his empty room or clothes that cost more than some folks' houses?

Pillars of sand.

Was it so damn pathetic and vapid to want something not given by his family's twisted obligations or plucked from the hands of a quivering servant? No games. No more ulterior motives.

Wishful thinking, maybe or a childish habit that he had dumped in the trash, like all those boxes of sweets that long went bitter on his tongue.

He reminded himself that others had suffered much worse than not being doted on in their preferred way. However, this reality failed to take away his distaste for each and every gift. Tch. How many times would he have to snuff out that damn sentimentality that he had been so “lucky” to inherit?

Leona’s eyes fell upon the small bottle vial in his palm and the wooden lion tag attached, tied carefully around the bottle. It had been nestled on the corner of his bed when he returned from Spelldrive practice this morning, all nice and wrapped in shiny paper.

His mouth crinkled and a small sound rumbled from his chest without his permission. Relief of some kind maybe. It had been one of the first gifts he received that was not for his birthday or from his family.

A friendly gesture or…somethin’ more insidious?

To think, someone who came to this world with nothin’ goin’ outta their way to get him somethin’...special.

But, “friends” weren’t something he kept. Instead, he had a collection of starry-eyed froshes, classmates, rivals, those few worthy of his respect. And then there was Ruggie of course but, would he be around if not for the understanding they had come to? Best not to dwell on it now.

Leona chuckled watching the amber liquid swish around the curved glass like liquid gold. How bold of them to choose a scent for him of all things. Beastfolk were sensitive to ‘em and he especially. But, they had been the brash and precocious type ever since they came to this school. Always skipping steps to pull off an advanced move.

Regardless of how big of a crowd he’d ever have cheerin’ at one of his games or how many brilliant trinkets he’d be gifted, nothing beat his chosen audience of one. Who, even after seeing firsthand all the grimy parts of him...still havin’ the audacity to stick around so long.

His eyes fell over to the chessboard at the corner of his desk. Brave little creature indeed, and brimming with Savanaclaw tenacity. A little pawn that made it to the other side of the board, ready to be crowned.

No way they knew the implication of such a small gesture, how important scents were to beastfolk, not that he was one for tradition, of course. Still, He brought the bottle to his nose for the umpteenth time as he leaned forward on his elbows. In an odd way, it reminded him of the gardens back at home when it rained, all those lonely hours pouring over books and chess games.

Alone but…if he concreted enough, he was able to catch a whiff of the oil where their fingers touched the glass. Yes, in their note they had mentioned that this scent reminded them of him, but to his nose it was missing something. A key complementing note. A missing piece.

The scent of a little herbivore turned into a formidable beast that he couldn’t get out of his head.

His brow furrowed as he glanced over at the small pile of notes, discarded by his boots. Then he tried again this time with more wit.

"Hey– Allow me to thank you for your generous gift. Heh. I can’t believe you actually picked out a halfway-decent fragrance. I might actually keep this. I thought about sending you something in return if the mood struck me, but this thank you note should do the job just fine, right?"

Leona kept it short and sweet. He knew they two were past formalities, but it was amusing to still play the game a little. He had been waiting for them to approach him in such a bold way, and finally, he had been rewarded for his saintly patience. Still, he wasn’t ready to show his hand yet, well-

He allowed sentimentality to win this time and flipped over the note, scrawling a little something extra for their eyes only.

“P.S. If you were gonna treat your lion so nice…the least ya could do is make good on such bold intentions and show him some proper attention.”

He chuckled again as he let the paper slip from his fingers, finally satisfied with what he had come up with. Honestly, it didn't matter much what he wrote. Maybe he was becoming sentimental in his “old” age but he knew...that they would always find each other in the middle.

It was their move again.

Besides, it was only fair that he repay them properly. Etiquette and all that.

#had this in my drafts for a while 🫶#leona kingscholar x yuu #disney twisted wonderland #twst wonderland #twst writing #leona x reader #twisted wonderland #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar #twst #twst leona #bunnwich writes📝

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gold-onthe-inside · 3 months ago

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critical asset

n. def. a specific entity that is of such extraordinary importance that its incapacitation or destruction would have a very serious, debilitating effect on the ability of a nation to continue to function effectively.

who? spencer reid (s7) x analyst!reader summary: the one where you and spencer finally get closer, even if it's just because penelope's too busy. content warnings: pining spencer, r and penelope argue word count: 1.8k

It’s painful how much Spencer likes you, wishing he could just transfer to counter-intelligence and be around you all the time, especially these days. You don’t come downstairs as often anymore, not since they put away Doyle, and it makes him all the more restless. He pursed his lips, looking at the chess game he was playing out, his interest in it sapping the more aware he was of your absence.

A few weeks ago, you would have been sitting right across from him, contemplating your next move, toying with the bishop between your fingers, so focused on the game that he could stare at you as long as he liked. He liked watching your sharp eyes dart around the board, assessing threats to your victory, liked watching you chew your lip as you thought about what to do. He could notice the exact shift in your expression when you knew you were either going to win or lose.

“I see it in 4,” you said, running the tip of your tongue over your teeth, glancing up at him as his gaze shifted to the pieces, the litte furrow in his brow as he wet his lips, trying to see what you did.

“How?” he asked. He was so sure he hadn’t given you a way out… until he watched you arrange each move delicately and his lips pursed into a pout. “Rematch?” he would ask, noticing your smug smile.

“Maybe tomorrow,” you’d say, standing up and squeezing his shoulder before you’d walk away, and he’d sigh, like he’s doing right now, sweeping the pieces into the cloth drawstring bag and folding up the wooden board to put back in his desk.

He’d get one over you more often than not when playing chess at least. He couldn’t say the same for everything else. But if anyone would say yes to a meditation sci-fi film, he knows it’s you — you’re one of the rare few people in his life who has obscure interests like his.

“My Russian isn’t that good,” you said as he waited by your cubicle for an answer, watching you turn off your desktop, drumming his fingers on the top of your transparent divider.

“I can translate anything you don’t understand,” Spencer offered, able to sense that he was close to prying a ‘yes’ out of you.

“I’ve heard your Russian,” you replied, raising a brow at him as the two of you stroll to the elevatory. “Just cause you can memorise the language doesn’t make you fluent, Reid.”

“Well, how am I supposed to become fluent if I don’t immerse myself in the language?” he asked, knowing exactly how to modulate his voice to melt your resistance. He sees your nose twitch and he knows he’s got you.

“Fine, but you’re buying dinner,” you replied, pointing at him and he frowned at you.

“How’s that fair if I’ve bought your ticket too?” he asked, pressing the elevator button. “Plus paying for snacks, and you know those places charge extra than normal—”

“Ugh, fine, jeez,” you replied, leaning against the wall. “I’ll buy dinner.” He was content with that, waiting for you to get in the elevator before following you. A thought crosses his mind, unbidden, that he had never said anything about getting dinner together, and hope flares in his chest. Maybe you wanted this to be a date as much as he did.

It’s dashed when he overhears your argument with Penelope when he’s supposed to be asking her to track down gas stations close to their crime scene — “Well, maybe I wouldn’t be feeling left out if you weren’t constantly shutting me out!” you cried. “God, I mean, you didn’t even let me know you were going to work this early, but you seemed fine calling up Kevin to carpool with.”

“It’s�� That’s… It’s just complicated, okay?” Penelope cried, already on the edge since they’d lost Emily.

“Yeah, a lot of things seem complicated with you lately,” you said, scoffing. “It’s kinda hard to support you when I don’t know what’s going on with you, Pen. You’re either working or you’re with Derek or you’re with Kevin—”

“Yeah, well, I could say the same about you!” Penelope shot back. “Been on any dates with Reid lately?” she asked and his breath stuttered where he stood, out of sight, behind the slightly ajar door.

“What else am I supposed to do when you’re always bringing Kevin home?” you demanded. “Seriously, it’s starting to feel like he’s a third roommate lately. He certainly eats like one.” His heart sinks at your words — were you only hanging out with him because you had nowhere to go? Spencer pressed himself back against the wall. “You know what, if he’s gonna hang around that much, you could at least get him to split the groceries,” you snapped at her, heading for the door.

“Yeah, well…” Penelope struggled to come up with a retort as fast as you did — she didn’t have a cruel bone in her body. Or at least, she wasn’t as quick with using it. “Well, if you’re gonna spend that much time with Reid, the least you could do is throw that boy a bone,” she called after you as you stormed out, slamming the door behind you and letting out an enraged huff as you stalked down the corridor, oblivious to Spencer.

He swallowed, watching your retreating figure and letting a beat pass before contemplating whether he should go to Penelope. Maybe he should just have Morgan talk to her instead. He turned on his heel, making his way back to the briefing room instead.

Spencer stared at the clock, watching the hands tick round until you would finally leave. All this week he had been trying to convince himself that you were avoiding him, but that was just his paranoia talking. You’d been avoiding everyone, really — him, Garcia, Morgan… your behaviour towards other people was almost exactly the same. Almost, but not quite. You had been colder to him specifically.

He just couldn’t help thinking you were upset with him.

“You okay?” he asked, catching up to you outside the building, a slight pant to his voice due to the short sprint he had to do to catch up to you in time. Your pace had slowed, and with your gaze to the floor, you let him fall in step beside you. Spencer tried not to pay too much attention to the distance you kept between the two of you.

He noticed everything about you. He couldn’t help it. He had noticed the stiffness in your shoulders, the rigid way you carried yourself.

"Fine," you replied half-heartedly, turning your keys over in your pocket. "I just hate taking the train home."

“Why not get an apartment that’s closer to here?” he suggested, stuffing his hands in his own pockets, his messenger bag slung over his shoulder as he fell into step beside you. He’d noticed you had been taking the metro a lot more than usual. He wondered if everything was okay with your roommate.

"I like living in DC," you replied, walking with him to the station. He hated driving as much as you hated the train.

He nodded, walking alongside you. He wished you’d look at him, though. He could never guess what was going on in your head — was everything okay? Had he done something wrong? You seemed colder to him these days. “What’s been going on with you?” he asked, his voice soft. “You’ve been a bit down lately, are you sure you’re alright?” You finally looked up at Spencer and he had to catch his breath — he’d never get used to your eyes, the sharp intelligence in them, the focus.

You sighed, looking ahead again. "Penelope's been... I dunno, things aren't great between us."

“Why’s that?” he asked, reminded of your argument again. The two of you were always together, you were inseparable. “Is everything okay?” He was about to reach out, touch your arm, but he second-guessed himself, not wanting you to push him away. He couldn’t take it if you did.

"I don't know," you confessed, your nose tinged red with the cold, still turning over the key in your pocket to keep yourself grounded. "She's working overtime, if she's not on a case, she's working on something with Derek that she won't tell me about, which is fine, I get it. If anyone understands classified projects, I do. And then she's always with Kevin and I just..." You let out a breath, like you haven't let all of it out in a while, and it fogs up a little, your eyes glassy. "You know, you see yourself as this central person in someone's life and then suddenly... all these other figures come in and you just... don't know where you fit in anymore."

The look in your eyes made him ache to comfort you and he had to look away to stop himself from being overwhelmed by what he saw there. “People get busy,” he said, softly. “It doesn’t mean she doesn’t value your friendship, or that she doesn’t want you around as much as you want to be.” His fingers twitched against his own palm as he spoke — he knew the feeling in your words all too well. He hated the idea that you were going through what he did on a daily basis.

You blinked the dampness in your eyes away, focusing on putting one foot in front of the other. "It's whatever," you murmured, tucking hair behind your ear.

Spencer looked at your profile as you walked and he had to look away again. He was starting to lose count of how many times he’d stopped himself from reaching out to you. He wanted to, he wanted to so desperately… but he was also terrified of rejection from you. He didn’t have an endless well of confidence, and he couldn’t bear it if you pushed him away. So he settled with wishing he could help you more than he currently was.

"How are you doing?" you asked, glancing at him. "With Emily and everything."

Spencer cleared his throat as he walked beside you, staring at the ground in front of him. “I think I’m still in shock,” he said, softly. “I miss her a hell of a lot, I’ve never connected with someone so quickly.” He didn’t even hesitate before he added: “Except maybe with you.”

You huffed a little, smiling. "Nerds of a feather, right?"

He nodded, smiling. “Yeah, I suppose so.” He glanced over and met your gaze, and he couldn’t help the way a grin bloomed on his face, your eyes meeting his.

You smiled at him, your eyes lighting up in that way he loves — not just with amusement, but with warmth, and his chest started to ache, just a little. He could do this forever.

His heart skipped, and for a moment he could forget everything. For a moment, everything was perfect, just you and him.

#spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x analyst!reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #my fics

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10spoons · 22 days ago

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𝐋𝐄𝐓’𝐒 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐘₊˚⊹ᰔ

Sabrina Carpenter x reader

summary: your girlfriend decided to distract you from chess by suggesting…to play

warnings: 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭 𝐦𝐝𝐧𝐢! established relationship/marriage. teasing. little dom/sub if you squint. chess player reader

DISCLAIMER: ENGLISH ISN'T MY FIRST LANGUAGE

You were sitting on the edge of the chair with your feet up. A wooden board stood right in front of you, and an army of figures stood on top. Your gaze darted from the book in your hands to the board and back. Your hand reached out to move a figures. Bf4-g3, f6:e5, b2-b4! You frown and upon closer analysis you see that black couldn’t have taken the pawn without suffering damage. You read on while biting your lips, deep in thought.

"Are you reading about this Nimzowitsch again?" A sudden question takes you by surprise and you look up at your girlfriend. Sabrina looked as gorgeous as ever, even in her house shorts and stretched out T-shirt. She walked past and sat down in the chair opposite, placing a cup of coffee on the table.

“Actually, it's Capablanca, the game with Bernstein," you muttered under your breath, pretending to be deeply offended. The gaze turned to the book again. c5-a7, Bd3:b5! The gears in your brain were spinning with renewed vigor as you felt hands gently massaging your shoulders.

"I think it's time for you to take a break babe.” Sabrina said and dropped her hands down your shoulders. Luckily for her, your hair was pinned up in a high bun, giving her the opportunity to leave a bite on your neck. A shaky breath left you, but you pulled yourself together.

“Brina…I want to finish this game.” You spoke as your hand slid into her hair to move it away from your neck. You were always so engrossed in studying the games of grandmasters that you didn't see anything around you.

It seemed that the woman was not going to give up, because the next thing she said was self-confident.

“Let’s play.” She walked around you and sat down in the chair opposite you again. You raised an eyebrow, looking at her skeptically. You didn't know what game she was going to play, but it definitely wasn't chess. As far as you knew, Sabrina was never into chess. You narrowed your eyes.

“What are you planning?”Sabrina meanwhile swept away all the pieces and placed them back in their original positions. The whites were on your side. How generous.

“I just want to play chess with my girlfriend.” She bite her lip and smile. “Maybe this way I'll understand why you're so into it.” You knew for sure that there was a catch somewhere. Oh, there definitely is. And the woman confirmed your guesses by continuing to speak.

“But! We will play until the first capture of the queen. Whose queen is defeated first must wish.” You frowned. “But no one plays chess like that! It’s…it’s…” A chuckle rang out. “Are you afraid of losing?” It was such a cheap manipulation, but it worked. You were never good at losing. “Deal.”

Pawn on e4. Her pawn is d5. E4:d5. Qe8:d5. She took your pawn. Knb1-c3. Her queen retreats. You move the second knight. Her rook moves to the right. The knight moves again and defeats her queen. It all happened in 7 moves. She didn't even try! When Sabrina was defeated, she got up from her chair and headed towards you.

"It's such a shame. I lost..." She came closer and sat on your lap. Her arms wrapped around your shoulders and you immediately grabbed her waist, holding her in place. Her face came closer and she said looking into your eyes. "The winner makes a wish." She fidgeted. The movement made your stomach do a thing.

«Oh, I knew it. I figured out your plan a long time ago.» You say and bury your face in her neck. Your mouth kissed and sucked the soft skin of her neck. You could feel her nails scraping against your back through your shirt. Her golden curls cascaded and covered your faces. You ran your thumbs over her stomach, lifting her shirt and moving further, finding the swell of her breasts.

“My wish…” You whispered. “My wish is that you ride me now. Is this what you wanted to hear?” A whine escaped her mouth and her pelvis rocked again, fingers digging into her soft thighs leaving marks. Something that sounded like words came out of Sabrina's mouth, but you couldn't make it out. She tried again.

“Yes baby…please.” Oh that was so cute, she’s just wanted a little attention. “As you say angel. Take it off.” You pulled her large T-shirt up, revealing her torso and neat breasts. Her pink nipples were swollen and you took one into your mouth, exploring her entire body with your hands. Squeezing here and there. The soft sighs that Sabrina made added to the experience. Your leg rose and pressed between her legs.

“Mhm…it feels so good baby, please..” She whined in despair. At some point you felt so stupid that you couldn't see anything except your chess. In a rush to fix this, your hand reached for the indecently short house shorts and discovered that she hadn't been wearing any underwear all this time. The fabric of the shorts was completely soaked and you just had to move it to run your fingers along the slick folds.

“Fuck Brina…so hot and wet, would you ride my fingers like a good little thing?” You said this while teasing her dripping entrance. Then you raised your head and took Sabrina's face by the chin, gently stroking her cheek. “Cmon babe, don’t be shy.” Her grey eyes looked at you with despair and her lips were beautifully swollen.

“I would please.” Right after these words, you pushed two fingers inside and curled them, stroking the soft, sensitive spot inside. “Oh fuck…fuck babe..” Sabrina screamed and you grabbed her by the waist guiding her up and down helping her move.

“Like that babe, ride me I know you can do it .” You praised her and kissed, catching her sighs with your mouth. With your help, woman moved, jumped and rolled her hips. Her clit hit the edge of your palm, creating additional stimulation. “Y/n..oh it feels so good…please I wanna cum.”

Tears began to form in the corners of her eyes and you couldn't refuse her. Your thumb brushed over clit pushing her closer to the edge. “Do it Brina you deserve it.”

After these words she came. You feel how her walls are clenched and the arousal flows on your palm. The last kisses decorate her chest and she falls into your arms. The woman sniffles and you stroke her disheveled curls and kiss the top of her head. “That’s it babe..that’s it.”

With these words, you stand up with her in your arms and head to the bathroom. “Let’s get you cleaned up love.”

Hi guys! I don't claim to be a great chess player and I only recently started playing and studying this area.

anyway i really like this idea and what came out of it.

I don't really like smut but why not sometimes

the game at the beginning is taken from the book and is a real game of Capablanca

xoxo Ella

#sabrina carpenter #sabrina carpenter x reader #sabrina carpenter x you #wlw #sabrina carpenter smut #wlw smut

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shadowtriovibes · 1 year ago

Text

mind if i move in closer?

Pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

Word Count: 2.8k

Rating: PG

Summary: sickeningly sweet christmas fic, loosely a continuation of the potioneer's apprentice (not necessary to have read to read this!)

“Do you want to borrow my scarf?” you ask him, teasingly preening as he glances over his shoulder at your new accessory. “It’s charmed to keep you warm.” Sebastian frowns. “Who sent you that? Ominis?” “No,” you say, throwing one of the scarf’s long ends across your shoulder. “Just this handsome fellow in Hogsmeade who’s grown quite fond of me.”

December 25, 1891

Christmas morning at Hogwarts is a surprisingly quiet affair.

Having spent many of your formative Christmas mornings in a Muggle boarding school before arriving at Hogwarts, you’ve grown accustomed to waking up to the sounds of eager whispers and excited squeals as the handful of holiday holdovers awoke to find a small array of presents laid out for them. Gifts were usually provided by the kindly heads of house who’d remained at the school during the break – many of whom were just as lonely as the children they watched.

A few oranges and sweets here and there, some secondhand books, perhaps a wooden puzzle for them all to share… It was always lovely, even during leaner years.

Of course, Christmas at Hogwarts was spectacular – massive fir trees decorated with floating baubles and shining ribbons lined the corridors, beautiful music drifted down from the Bell Tower, and the annual feast on Christmas Eve teemed with seemingly endless platters of food.

Your first holiday season at Hogwarts hadn’t been lonely at all. With Ranrok still at large and dozens of poacher camps causing trouble throughout the Highlands, many students chose to spend their Christmas at Hogwarts rather than risking the lengthy train ride back to London or hiking out to their family homes in nearby hamlets.

This year, however, there were only two Slytherins who remained in the castle over the winter break: you and Sebastian.

While the two of you had each been quietly pleased to learn that the other would be staying, you’d both been surprised to learn that even Ominis would be departing to spend Christmas with his family, per their demand. Before he left, he’d darkly insisted that he’d bet a fistful of Galleons that he’d be back before New Year’s Day if his brothers had anything to say about it.

While Ominis sulked, Sebastian had been the one to explain to you that the older pure blood families, many of whom shared your house, are especially traditional during the holidays.

Or, as he’d so bluntly put it, “All the posh ones will be traveling somewhere warmer, and even the snooty half-bloods don’t want to leave their little sprogs here with all the orphans and the impoverished.”

“That’s lovely,” you grumbled.

He’d merely shrugged and smirked, “At least we’ll have the run of the place.”

Christmas Eve dinner, at least, had been fairly lively thanks to a handful of younger Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors who delighted in joining hands and pulling open wizard crackers. Sebastian had insisted you keep the wizard’s chess set he’d received, as yours had contained a live turtle dove that had promptly flown off to roost in the rafters.

(Professor Black, who had also stayed over the holidays, declined Professor Weasley’s invitation to join the holdovers in the Great Hall, which Sebastian insists was the best gift he could have possibly received.)

The pair of you spent the rest of the evening in the common room, taking turns sipping from a bottle of spiced apple brandy Sebastian had managed to charm out of Sirona’s hands during your last trip to Hogsmeade. By the time you’d wobbled up the stairs to the seventh-year dormitories, you’d been unable to stop giggling while Sebastian walked you to your door.

“Get some rest,” he’d laughed, his cheeks flushed red from the alcohol. “Father Christmas can’t bring you presents if you’re still awake, can he?”

“Father Christmas, hm?” you ask, rolling your eyes. “It’s just the two of us, Sebastian. I think he’ll pass over the Slytherin common room this year.”

Something secret sparkled in his eyes, but he said nothing as you opened the door to your room.

Just as you’d turned around to say goodnight, Sebastian leaned in close and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.

“Happy Christmas,” he mumbled. “See you in the morning.”

Before you could even exhale, he’d quickly made his way up the opposite steps to his room and firmly shut his door behind him. You felt warm all over as you’d changed into your nightwear and climbed into bed – not just from the brandy, you’re sure.

But when you wake up… There’s nothing but silence.

The fire across the room is muted with its usual silencing charms, the popping and cracking of the firewood kept quiet while you slept. There are no roommates eager to open gifts, no smells of Christmas treats like roasted ham or cinnamon pastries cooking in the dormitory kitchens down the hall, which you’d cherished in your old schools.

…But at the foot of your bed, you find a small pile of presents.

You smile to yourself as you sit up and rub your eyes, half expecting the delicate boxes wrapped in bright paper and gently curling ribbons to dissolve away as your vision comes into focus. When they remain, you dare to gingerly pull one into your lap, tracing your fingertips over the crisp paper wrappings.

The first parcel is from Augustus Hill, who’d sent over a fine woolen scarf charmed to remain warm and dry even if it collects falling snowflakes that melt against its magical heat. It’s a deep forest green and is wonderfully soft, and you can’t resist wrapping it across your shoulders as you reach for a second gift.

From your potions master Parry Pippin, you receive a fine set of measuring spoons made of polished copper – much more attractive and precise than the brushed pewter spoons you’d ordered from a supply shop in Diagon Alley.

Professor Weasley had even gifted you a box of stationery supplies that contained a set of quills, a few rolls of parchment, and even a pot of ink. A practical gift to be sure, but thoughtful (and quite generous, you think).

Your favorite gift is from Ominis, who’d sent a box of French candies with magical molten centers from a wizarding confectionary shop in Paris, where his family always visits for the holidays. Inside he’d tucked a note insisting that Sebastian had been sent his own box as well and you were not to let him coax you into sharing yours. You’d fondly rolled your eyes before pinning it to your ever-growing collection of correspondences affixed to the wall beside your bed.

Of course, you can’t resist treating yourself to a piece of candy or two while you change into a simple dressing robe and freshen yourself in the wash basin beside the fireplace. One tastes like cherries and brings a delightful pink flush to your cheeks and lips, and the other tastes like nougat and makes you whistle like a songbird while you pull back your hair into a loose braid.

By the time you wander downstairs, Sebastian is already poking at the common room fireplace, cursing under his breath.

“Happy Christmas, Seb,” you call out, tucking your dressing robe tighter around your waist.

“Happy Christmas,” he mumbles distractedly. “It’s bloody freezing in here.”

You smile to yourself as you take a seat on the cozy settee across from the fireplace. Sebastian has managed to rustle up some extra firewood, undoubtedly from one of the empty boys’ dormitories, to ward off the chill of the common room.

“Do you want to borrow my scarf?” you ask him, teasingly preening as he glances over his shoulder at your new accessory. “It’s charmed to keep you warm.”

Sebastian frowns. “Who sent you that? Ominis?”

“No,” you say, throwing one of the scarf’s long ends across your shoulder. “Just this handsome fellow in Hogsmeade who’s grown quite fond of me.”

To your delight, Sebastian’s frown deepens. “What? Who?”

“Oh, you’ve met him,” you answer, feigning indifference. “He’s rather posh, very stylish, always dressed impeccably… You and I saved him from a troll once, if you recall.”

Sebastian bites the inside of his cheek to keep from grinning when he finally catches wind of your little ruse. “Ah, I see. Just playing one of your little games with me.”

“You make it far too easy,” you tease him, unraveling your scarf and gently draping it across his broad shoulders. “There, that ought to warm you up.”

(Immediately your mind starts to wander off as it conjures up images of how else you might warm up your unfairly handsome friend, but you’re quick to chastise it into silence.)

“You’re too kind, love,” he says, that ever-present smirk still on his lips.

Both of you are silent for several long moments while you hang on to the ends of the scarf, staring up into his warm brown eyes. His gaze dips down to your mouth when you bite your lip, and just as you’re about to ask him if he’d like to walk you to the Great Hall for breakfast, he blurts out, “I have a gift for you.”

“You – a gift?” you ask dumbly. “For me?”

“Of course,” he says softly. “Er, I should warn you that it’s nothing big, but… I wanted you to have it, so…”

He trails off quietly, fidgeting with the sleeve of his robe.

“I have a gift for you too,” you admit. “I left it upstairs. Can I go get it for you?”

“S-sure,” he stutters. “You bought me a gift?”

“Don’t be daft, Sallow,” you tease him. “I made you a gift.”

With that you turn on your heel and march back up the stairs to your dormitory, snagging the delicate potion bottle shaped like a cloud with an indigo ribbon wrapped around its neck. You gingerly turn it over in your hands, watching as the light purple draught inside swirls around languidly.

Downstairs, Sebastian waits for you with a small box tucked behind his back. He looks slightly nervous, you think, so you decide to offer him your gift first.

“Alright,” you say as you take a seat. “First, let me just say that I had Mister Pippin check this to make sure I did everything right, and he said it’s perfectly fine.”

(In fact, Pippin had said you’d done a brilliant job, but you don’t want to oversell yourself before Sebastian has had a chance to try your brew.)

Sebastian eyes the glass bottle as you offer it to him, gently turning it over in his hands.

“You made this?” he asks softly, and then he grins and asks, “Did Weasley help you at all? Because I already learned my lesson with his ‘Fizzing Whizzbeer,’ thank you very much.”

“No,” you insist, biting back a laugh as you remember Sebastian chugging a bottle of Garreth’s experimental brew and being stuck levitating a few feet above the ground for an entire afternoon. “No, I made this just for you.”

“What’s it do?” he asks curiously.

“Well, it’s… it’s a sleeping draught, sort of,” you say softly. “It’s got lavender for comfort, and valerian springs for restful sleep, but I added cinnamon and a bit of shrivelfig to create peaceful dreams.”

Sebastian slowly tips the bottle back and forth, watching the thin liquid dance around the bottle. “Peaceful, hm?”

You’ve known about his nightmares for a while now. He doesn’t like to talk about them often, but he’s admitted that since that day in the Catacombs, he’s hardly slept a full night without being plagued by visions of those damned Inferi, of his uncle’s limp body, of Anne’s face…

The bleary eyes and wan expression he sometimes wears to breakfast after a particularly hard night tell you everything you needed to know, and you’ve spent the last several weeks visiting Hogsmeade after class to work with Mister Pippin to create your own special draught. Not dreamless sleep, but better sleep.

“I just thought… that you deserve to have some good dreams,” you mumble.

The corner of Sebastian’s mouth quirks up. “I do have good dreams, sometimes.”

(You miss the way he glances over at you, raking his gaze down the length of your body. You miss how it lingers where your dressing robe has fallen open a bit, showing off the delicate neckline of the thin chemise you’re wearing underneath.)

“O-oh,” you stammer. “W-well, I suppose now you can… have more.”

You frown disappointedly until Sebastian rests his warm hand on your knee, gently holding the bottle against his chest with his other.

“Thank you,” he says. “Really, I can’t believe you made this just for me. Merlin, it’s… it’s a perfect gift.”

His gaze is heated, and intense, and something about it makes you want to squirm, so instead you breathily ask, “May I have my gift?”

Sebastian holds your gaze as he slowly nods, only letting it break it when he turns to grab the box he’d hidden behind himself. With trembling hands you lift the lid to find a small silver badge inside, reverently tucked inside a nest of tissue paper.

Your hands go still.

“Sebastian, is – is this…?” you whisper.

“My family’s crest,” he murmurs. “You’ve seen it once before, in our fifth year.”

Gently, you lift the crest out of the box and cradle it in your hands. The heat from your skin quickly starts to warm the cool metal, and you trace your fingertips over the “S” hammered into the center of the badge.

“What – how–” you stutter.

“Earlier this year, Anne sent it back to me,” he explains softly, watching with dark eyes as you pour over the symbols that adorn the crest: a cauldron, a flowering tree, a pair of crossed daggers, and a crescent moon.

“Why?” you whisper.

“I’m still not sure,” Sebastian says hollowly. “She just sent the crest, with no letter. But if I had to guess, I think… I think she wanted me to know that she’s safe, but not where she is. Not yet.”

You clutch the crest against your breast. “Oh, Sebastian…”

“It’s okay,” he says, his voice going rough. “It’s – that’s what it’s for, the crest. I gave it to her to keep her safe, and she gave it back to… to tell me that she’s alright. If that’s all she wants me to know, then… then it’s enough.”

You shift closer to him on the couch, the flickering fire casting dancing shadows along the side of his face.

“Why are you giving it to me?” you ask him curiously. “It’s beautiful, Sebastian, but – isn’t it important to you? To your family?”

He swallows nervously. “I don’t… have a family anymore. Not really. Anne is out there somewhere, safe without me, but… you and Ominis, you’re my only family now.”

You let the crest fall to your lap before you throw your arms around Sebastian, burying your face against that warm scarf of yours he’s still wearing. You don’t have the words to say how much this gift means to you, but you think he understands when he wraps his arms around you, skimming one of his large palms up and down the length of your back.

“It kept Anne safe, and – and now it will keep you safe,” he murmurs. “I don’t… I’m not sure you understand how much you mean to me. I need you to be safe.”

“S’bst’n,” you mumble into his shoulder. “Y’re m’vry’th’n.”

He laughs softly and asks, “Sorry, what was that?”

You pull back just enough to press your lips against the shell of his ear, knowing that if you meet his eyes you’ll never have the courage to tell him how you’ve truly felt about him since your fifth year.

“I said, ‘Sebastian, you’re my everything.’”

Then the hand he’d cupped around the back of your head slides down, down, until he nudges his thumb along your jaw to coax you out of your little hiding place. His eyes are so dark, and the soft whine he lets out before he crushes his lips to yours is all the warning you get, but then… then he’s kissing you.

“Seb,” you gasp into his mouth, and then he lightly tugs on the tie around your waist until you shift yourself halfway onto his lap. It feels like hours go by just like that, just the two of you alternating between lazy, curious kisses and frantic, needy surges every time one of you lets slip another heated confession.

“I’ve wanted to do this for so long.”“You taste incredible.”“I don’t ever want to stop doing this.”

Eventually, you let your head rest on Sebastian’s shoulder while he trails soft kisses from the hinge of your jaw down to your shoulder and back. He’s ravenous, he’d told you himself, but it’s not until his stomach growls loudly between your bodies that you even remember that other type of hunger.

“We’ll miss breakfast if we don’t leave soon,” you whine.

“Let’s stay here,” he murmurs against your neck. “We can eat those chocolates you got from Ominis for breakfast.”

“That’s… tempting,” you sigh distractedly, and then you pause.

Leaning back, you quirk a brow and ask, “Sorry, the chocolates I got from Ominis?”

“Well, sure,” Sebastian says smoothly. “He sent me a book on cursebreaking, but I can taste fancy chocolate on your lips, so I assumed…”

“You filthy liar, Sebastian Sallow,” you laugh, throwing your head back. “He warned me you’d try to talk me out of my sweets!”

“To be fair, that’s hardly the only thing I’ll try to talk you out of,” he drawls, sliding his hands down to your hips. “Namely this robe of yours…”

“Scoundrel,” you croon, leaning down for another hungry kiss.

(Ominis’ chocolates make a decent breakfast, even if half of them melt by the fire, ignored entirely while Sebastian makes good on his suggestion regarding your robe.)

#sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow fic #sebastian x mc #sebastian x you #sebastian x reader #sebastian sallow x you #sebastian sallow x reader #sebastian sallow x mc #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy fic #my fic #HEY GUESS WHO WROTE SOMETHING!!!#THE EVIL [my anxiety] IS DEFEATED [for now]

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moeblob · 6 months ago

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Rice. From my plot that's literally just a game of chess. (he's a rook)

#my characters #CHESS BABIES #they actually had a tag here and i adore it bc it was in caps lock for a while #no idea why it was in caps but whatever it was thems the rules #rice has a younger sister named turnip and shes a pawn and then his coworker rook is a guy named cakes #and cakes has a huuuuuuge crush on him and doesnt think to hide it so rice just kinda puts up with it and then somehow #they meet with one of the white knights and are like well he seems mostly harmless #and since they dont attack or try to kill him he decides hes actually in love with rice as well so cakes is like oh no #im going to lose my years long crush to some foreign guy #but the white knight is just vibing cause out of the entire white army he has the least stake in it bc he was born in the land of red #so he doesnt really care but since one of his parents was a white native he got recruited kinda #look it sounds so bad to have colored nations and them being white black and red #but its chess i swear and my dad had a REALLY FUCKING NICE wooden chess set when i was a kid #and it was AMAZING AND BEAUTIFUL and each piece had red felt on the bottom to about scuffing the pretty wood board #anyway thats where the neutral land idea came from - all of his pieces had SOME red on them #and now i gotta go to work for more video orientation #guys theres been so many videos in the past two days #i have no energy for art #i have so many things i wanna draw but i havent managed to actually do anything yet #i need a fuckin schedule.....

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daizedndconfused · 2 months ago

Note

Friend, you’re about to be known as a Cole x reader blog, lmao….and I might contribute 👉👈. Feel free to ignore but if you’ll hear me out.

Imagine Reader and Cole go to visit his dad bc he wanted to meet Reader. His dad quickly realizes that Cole is head over heels with reader, but reader doesn’t seem to reciprocate. Like reader is kind, warm and polite, but seems more restrained unlike Cole.

So his dad gets concerned that it’s kind of uneven; one party seeming more “invested” than the other and it causes a bit of friction. Then he realizes that Reader is as affectionate as Cole, just that they’re not used to expressing it in front of others, just in private. Then Reader and his dad start over, getting along while leaving Cole confused as to what changed, lmao.

sorry it’s like weirdly specific but it’s been bouncing around in my head. 🫣

eye to eye

a/n: i’m so so sorry this took so long im going through my inbox rn and trying to answer as fast as i can!! but that aside i really loved this prompt because i feel like a lot of people are nervous about meeting their partners parents which can lead to some tension. i am totally fine with being labeled the cole x reader blog that’s what i’m here forrrr

characters: cole x fem!reader

type: fluff

warnings: none/not proofread

synopsis: you meet cole’s dad for the first time and get off on the wrong foot

word count: 3.4k

Your knee bounced up and down uncontrollably as you waited for Cole to enter the kitchen. To your left, Kai and Jay played a game of chess and watched as you panicked silently.

This day had been coming up for weeks–everyone knew about it. Partly because you and Cole had to get permission from Sensei to leave the monastery unattended. Normally if there isn’t an immediate threat or patrol, you need Sensei’s permission to enter the city alone.

Cole, the responsible guy he is, explained the reason for your leave weeks in advance to Wu after bringing the idea up with you first. Unfortunately, that also meant you had been stewing in your own head for the weeks that led up to this weekend.

“What if he hates me?” you blurt out, the suffocating silence of the kitchen finally getting to you.

Kai’s hand paused over a chess piece at the sound of your voice and he looked at you with an are-you-kidding kind of expression.

“What?” He all but scoffed. “He won’t.”

He moved one of his pawns forward.

“You don’t know that,” you countered, laying your cheek down on the wooden table’s surface.

“And you don’t know he’ll hate you.” Kai rolled his eyes then frowned as Jay captured the pawn he had previously moved.

“But–”

“What’s not to like about you?” Jay asked, his eyes never straying from the black and white board. “You’re a ninja, you save the city, you’ve saved his son more times than I can count, Cole loves you, and–”

“Still!”

Jay and Kai traded unimpressed looks as you chewed nervously on your lip.

However, you didn’t have very much longer to stew. Footsteps you recognized all too well had begun to approach the entrance of the kitchen. You shot up immediately, hoping to appear relaxed despite what you truly felt inside.

The sight of your boyfriend had put an easy smile on your face and eased up the tension in your chest. You and Cole had been through so much together, surely you’d be able to handle staying at his father's for the weekend.

Cole ran a hand through his hair and readjusted the black backpack resting across his shoulders that contained overnight clothes for the both of you. His expression mirrored your own as he caught your eyes.

“Everything’s all set,” he told you. “Ready to go?”

You threw on the bravest face you could muster up and stood from the table with a small nod.

“It’s a short flight.” Cole wrapped an arm around your shoulders when you were close enough. “Less than twenty minutes.”

You took a deep calming breath before wrapping your own arm around his waist. “Okay.”

Cole searched your eyes for a moment, as if he sensed your apprehension. Eventually, he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head and the two of you made your way towards the exit of the monastery.

“Have fun!” Jay called after the two of you.

“Good luck!” Kai offered.

You shot him a glare over your shoulder until they were no longer within eye range.

If Cole caught onto the subtle anxiety swimming below the surface of your mind, he didn’t let on. Instead he summoned his dragon quickly and the two of you mounted easily as you took over carrying the pack for the both of you.

Cole squeezed your calf reassuringly before flicking the reins of his dragon, and you shot towards the sky, your stomach lurching in the process.

The weather was nice for flying. Sunny with a few clouds here and there and little to no wind aside from the usual air resistance due to movement.

Leaning your head back with your arms wrapped firmly around Cole’s middle you let the sunshine beat down on your face. Perhaps it would help ease your worries. Flying always helped clear your head, it was one of the many reasons you and Cole were so perfect for each other.

You’re just hoping his dad sees that as well.

Eventually, you started descending over a neighborhood a few minutes outside of Ninjago City. Below you saw a group of kids playing a game of street hockey and another drawing patterns on the sidewalk with chalk.

As the shadow of Cole’s dragon blocked the sun for a moment, they looked up and pointed at the dragon. You could practically hear the gasps of awe from your current altitude and you waved down to them.

Eventually, they too faded into the background and suddenly both your feet were on the ground in front of a small one story beige house. There were flower beds below the windows on either side of the door and you couldn’t help but admire how well kept they were.

“All good?” Cole asked, squeezing your shoulder.

The anxiety in your stomach said no, but your mouth said yes.

“Trust me, he’ll love you,” Cole assured you. “He can be a bit of a hardass but that usually ends as soon as it starts.”

“Mhmm,” you hummed, never taking your eyes off the door, almost fearing his dad was watching you in front of the little peephole.

Cole scanned you from head to toe before walking towards the door. He raised his hand to knock before shaking his head and ringing the doorbell. A melodic ‘welcome’ came from the little speaker below the doorbell.

You giggled a bit as Cole shook his head with a sigh.

Not long after, the door swung wide open to reveal Cole’s dad. He was on the smaller side and the first thing you noticed was the cane he leaned on heavily as he hobbled forward to embrace his son. Other than that he looked extremely well kept, neatly combed hair and a small mustache with no stray hairs in sight.

“Ah, and you must be the girl my son has been raving on about!” Cole’s dad guessed.

You stepped forward quickly, not wishing to make his father move unnecessarily.

Thrusting a hand out you smiled politely, “That’s me, sir. I’m (Y/N).”

Lou nodded enthusiastically and returned your gesture with the hand not resting on his cane. “Well it’s very nice to meet you. And hey lucky me! I get two ninjas for the whole weekend. How often does that happen?”

“Not as often as I’d like, Mr. Brookstone,” you admitted as he led the way inside.

Lou barked out a laugh before turning back around to look at Cole. “I like her, she’s funny.”

You let out a breath of relief as he turned around. Cole’s arm snaked around your waist and squeezed one of your hips comfortingly. Craning your neck to look at him you nodded.

On the walk to the kitchen you noticed all the pictures of Cole hanging up on the wall ranging from all possible ages. You’d have to ask his dad later for a copy of the one of him pouting while inside what was clearly a dance studio.

The two of you slid into seats next to each other at the kitchen table as Lou went to put on a pot of tea.

“Oh, would you like some help?” You offered. Seeing him do things without help and mostly one handed made your heart ache, but it seemed like he had a good system going.

“Oh no dear,” Lou waved a hand. “If I can’t put on a thing of tea on my own I should be in a home.”

“Dad,” Cole scolded through a snicker.

“Nonsense, Cole and I would gladly come help you out,” you said.

“Pah! Please, you’d have to drag my son here by his hair,” Lou laughed.

“Hey!” Cole sputtered. “You’re making me sound like a dick, I visit.”

Lou turned around, leaning back on the counter for support. “Well sure, now you do. Only took you getting a girlfriend to do so, hmm? Should have fixed you up ages ago if that was the case.”

You laughed as Cole slung his arm across the back of your chair. “Thanks, Dad.”

“Doing my best,” Lou smirked and removed the kettle from the stove before bringing it over to the table where teacups had already been laid out. He placed the kettle on a cloth before taking a seat in the chair across from the two of you and pouring you both a cup of tea.

Cole grabbed a cup and handed one to you. You nodded as a thank you and took the cup carefully from him, your fingers avoiding each other.

Across the table you felt Lou’s eyes watching the two of you like a hawk and you suddenly became aware that you were slouching. You straightened your back quickly and folded your hands over your mug resting on the table. Lou cocked his head at your movement before Cole asked him how he was doing.

Conversation flowed well between the three of you but no matter how hard you tried you couldn’t relax. Not even with Cole’s comforting touches that his father seemed to pay very close attention to. Everytime Lou’s eyes saw his son touch you in some way he’d look back at your face causing you to tense up and bristle away from your boyfriend.

Lou narrowed his eyes at you before turning his full attention to Cole who was telling him about the mech he and Jay have been working on the past couple weeks.

“It’s amazing, Mr. Brookstone,” you chimed in, realizing you hadn’t said anything in a while. “Cole’s been working really hard on it.”

Lou’s proud smile fell slightly when you opened your mouth and he hummed absentmindedly at your input, barely even looking at you.

Your face fell like a kicked puppy and you clenched your fists atop your thighs where they had been for the past hour.

Everytime you tried to add to the conversation, Lou would either pity hum at you, ignore you completely, or look you up and down before turning back to Cole.

What went wrong? Things were going so well when you first walked it. You couldn’t think of anything you could have possibly done to offend him. Hell, you’d barely spoken even when Cole tried to involve you in the conversation. Maybe it was your nerves.

Cole looked between you and his father confused at the rough tension suddenly between you two. He wanted to say something to his father but you shook your head fervently at him when you caught his eye. Reluctantly, he complied with your silent request.

Cole looked at his watch before he said, “I’m gonna go put our stuff in my room.”

Lou nodded as Cole stood from the table. Your heart hammered in your chest as you looked up at your boyfriend.

Don’t leave me! Your eyes screamed. Please for the love of the First Spinjitzu Master don’t leave me alone with him he hates me!

Cole didn’t seem to get the hint. Instead he leaned down to attempt to give you a peck on the lips. You glanced at his father across the table and saw his eyes narrowed into slits. You jerked away from Cole who nodded before planting a quick kiss on your forehead instead.

As he left you heard Cole’s father scoff before he stood from the table to gather all the empty mugs.

“Do you need any help?” You offered weakly, confidence completely shattered.

Lou glared back at you. “No, I don’t think I do.”

You slumped back in your chair, defeated. “Tea was lovely, thank you.”

“Mhmm,” he hummed.

Your leg bounced up and down at his subtle hostility.

“Uh, Mr. Brookstone–”

“Look,” Lou cut you off, “I appreciate you coming all this way and all but nobody is forcing you to stay with my son.”

Drawing in a breath of surprise your mouth popped open as confusion slammed into you like a semi. What?

“Are you really his girlfriend? Or did you just come here to pacify dear old dad because I kept asking when he’d start thinking about getting himself into a serious relationship?” Lou turned his back to the sink and leveled you with a hard stare.

“No, I–”

“Because if there’s one thing I know about my son, it’s how much love he holds in his heart. And I can clearly see he has a lot of it for you with the way he talks about you and the way he is around you, but I’m not seeing the same in you.”

This wasn’t the turn you thought this trip would take at all. To be honest, this was probably one of the worst possible outcomes. You were too stunned to even speak which probably led him to think he was correct and so he kept going.

“If you’re leading him on for whatever reason, just do me a favor and end it quickly after you leave because he’s too good for that.” Lou turned back around to the dishes as soon as Cole came bounding back into the kitchen.

Before he could say anything he noticed your somber expression and made his way over to you.

Okay? His eyes spoke volumes.

You nodded meekly, keeping your head down and your trembling fingers clasped tightly together.

You suffered the rest of the evening in mostly silence. The three of you moved from the kitchen to the living room couch where Cole had his arm around you but you were still stiff as a board, hands folded neatly in your lap.

Again, his father seemed to be glaring holes at you, making the anxiety sink deeper and deeper into your stomach to where it was practically paralyzing you.

Once it got late enough for the two of you to sneak off to bed, Cole prodded you immediately.

“Okay, what the hell?” Cole asked, not bothering to close his door.

“What?” You asked quietly, taking off your makeup in his bathroom.

“I’m not an idiot, you were quiet all day,” Cole said as he walked up behind you, looking at you in the mirror. “Did he say something to you?”

Your lower lip trembled as you shook your head, too embarrassed to meet his gaze. Cole sighed outwardly through his nose before placing a kiss on your temple and turning to fetch your pajamas from your shared bag.

He placed them on the counter next to you as he changed into a baggy T-Shirt and boxers while you put on one of his spare shirts and sleep shorts with little stars on them.

Cole laid down on his bed, splaying his arms out wide for you to fall into. And fall you did. You all but crashed into his arms, the events of the day weighing down on you.

Cole let you lay on his for as long as you needed but he didn’t miss the way you practically clung onto him like a koala. Instead, he waited for you to come around and stroked your hair, planting small kisses on your head every now and then.

Eventually you voiced your concerns to him and the conversation you had with his dad when he left. More of the verbal lashing you got and less a conversation to be honest.

“I just,” you trailed off, biting your lip, “I want you to know that I do love you. So, so much like I genuinely couldn’t imagine my life without you. You know that right?”

“Of course,” Cole ran a hand up and down your back soothingly.

“Am I a terrible girlfriend?” You mumbled into his neck.

“No,” Cole chuckled. “You’re just not big on PDA. Especially when you’re nervous. I guess my dad was just used to being very lovey dovey with my mom all the time and when he saw you weren’t he probably assumed the worst. Don’t take it personally, okay? I can talk to him tomorrow if you’d like?”

“No,” you shook your head. “I don’t want you to fight with your dad just for me. I’ll live. I love you a lot. Just not in front of people. I’m used to keeping our relationship pretty private with all the publicity we receive anyway. It’s just a force of habit at this point.” You wrapped your arms around him like a large teddy bear and placed a kiss to the base of his throat.

“I know,” Cole squeezed your hip again. “Don’t worry about it, okay gorgeous?”

You sighed heavily but nodded anyway, giving him a kiss goodnight.

No matter how hard you tried you couldn’t sleep. You tossed and turned all night and didn’t get more than four hours of sleep you were sure. Eventually you gave up and waited for the sun to rise so that you too would be able to get out of bed reasonably.

As soon as the first light blue light touched the cracked of Cole’s blinds, you quietly peeled yourself away from his sleeping form and exited his room to make yourself a cup of calming tea.

You froze in your tracks when you saw Lou already dressed and ready, sitting at the kitchen table with his own cup of tea reading the newspaper.

You stepped backward, prepared to sneak back to Cole’s room when Lou’s eyes snapped up to you.

Unlike yesterday, his eyes softened and he beckoned you forward. “Come, have a seat.”

Swallowing harshly you forced yourself to make your way to the table. Cautiously, you lowered yourself into the seat opposite him. Lou placed his mug down on the wood and folded his hands on the table atop his paper.

“I owe you an apology,” he said softly.

Your eyes snapped up to his. Well, you hadn’t expected that either.

“Sir–?”

“Please,” he raised a hand, “call me Lou.”

You smiled lightly, worried you were about to be woken up from a dream. “I don’t understand.”

Lou nodded but continued. “I understand I was cold to you yesterday and for that I am truly sorry. Sometimes I get ahead of myself and I can be quite dramatic. What can I say? I had a flair for the theater.” He laughed softly and you joined him. “But that’s no excuse. I jumped to some unfair conclusions. I realize I had expected your relationship with my son to be like the one I had with my wife, but times are different. There weren't people watching our every move when we went out like they do with the two of you.”

You nodded sadly. In the past, you and Cole had some issues with the press which sparked your boycott of PDA until further notice.

“I heard your conversation last night,” Lou admitted. “I was on my way to the laundry room when I heard you two talking. And I know you love my son a lot. He’s lucky to have you.” Lou reached across the table and squeezed your hand.

“I really do,” you assured him. “With all my heart. I love that boy.”

Lou laughed softly. “I know. So, shall we start over?”

“Of course, no harm done. I understand wanting to protect your children.” And that was the truth. Plus, Cole was Lou’s only kid, and after his mother left, Cole was almost all he had left. Of course he didn’t want to see him get hurt.

“How about some breakfast?” You offered, standing from the table.

Cole woke up hours later to the familiar sound of his dad’s favorite record blaring through his record player and the smell of fresh bacon. He also quickly realized you weren’t in bed and judging by the lack of warmth coming from your side you had left a while ago.

Shrugging on some pants, he dragged himself to the kitchen of his home and stopped dead in his tracks at the sight. His girlfriend was at the stove making all sorts of breakfast food, enough to feed his whole neighborhood, while his dad sang along to the record and told a joke occasionally that caused you to laugh.

How long had he been sleeping? Last he remembered you and his dad were on some rocky road. Shifting his eyes to the clock he saw it was only nine thirty in the morning.

You twirled around the music and halted when you caught sight of your bleary-eyed confused boyfriend who kept looking from you to his father and so on.

“Morning, honey,” you wrapped your arms around his waist before leaning up on your toes to press a kiss to his lips.

“Uh, morning?” Cole blinked multiple times to make sure he wasn’t still asleep.

He caught the eye of his dad over your shoulder.

She’s a keeper. Like your mother, his dad mouthed.

Cole grinned and hugged you back enthusiastically, lifting you off your feet and spinning you around as you giggled uncontrollably.

#ninjago #fanfic #cole brookstone x reader #fluff #ninja x reader #ninjago cole #ninjago x reader #reader insert #oneshot #reader x character #sweet ending #character x reader #cole x reader #cole x fem!reader #ninjago fanfic #lego ninjago

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butchreg · 2 months ago

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mama cassandra kiramman and papa grayson with a tmasc regressor moodboard

+ headcanons as requested by anon under the cut ( ̧⸝⸝⍢⸝⸝)ෆ

cassandra is rather proper and firm in her caregiving while grayson is much more laid back and less rule oriented 𓈒 mama is always making sure you're clean and fed and staying out of trouble while papa is more geared towards playing , not minding if you leave a few toys strewn about , taking you on outings and carrying you on his shoulders 𓈒

cassandra loves to dress you , putting you in kiramman house colors and cooing at how handsome you look 𓈒 she'll comb your messy hair , humming a sweet melody as she does so 𓈒

grayson will sneak up behind you , covering your eyes with his hands causing you to squeak 𓈒 "papa?" you'll ask , hearing a low , warm chuckle in response 𓈒 you'll leap from the stool cassandra has had you sat on , kicking one of the legs as you get up 𓈒 it skitters a bit and mama will shake her head in amusement , steadying it with a gentle hand 𓈒 she'll lightheartedly chide grayson as he scoops you up spinning you around 𓈒 you'll laugh and he'll set you down , ruffling your freshly combed hair 𓈒 "oh honestly ," cassandra will huff , but there's a glint of amusement in her eye 𓈒

grayson who always has his pockets full of trinkets both from and for you 𓈒 he'll reach into the pocket of his uniform feeling a strange lump there 𓈒 he'll chuckle , showing it to the other enforcers on patrol 𓈒 "from my son ," he'll tell them , a plastic dinosaur toy in his palm 𓈒 something you tucked into his pocket in case he got bored on patrol 𓈒

cassandra is big on tea 𓈒 she'll often bring you a cup in the morning , a gold plated thing and a matching saucer 𓈒 "good morning , my sweet 𓈒 how did you sleep , hmm ?" she's always reminding you gently that the saucer is there for a reason 𓈒 grayson is even worse about remembering than you , often leaving cup rings on cassandra's beautiful old furniture 𓈒 he's always sheepish and apologetic , and you'll have remind him , "papa ! your cup ! mama says the saucer is real important 𓈒"

the swirl of cassandra's perfume and grayson's cologne makes you feel really small 𓈒 although they may be two clashing scents the way they intermingle perfectly encapsulates their dynamic in your humble opinion 𓈒 mama's elegant and flowery perfume mixing with papa's bourbony and woody cologne brings that pleasant cloudiness to the forefront of your mind 𓈒

grayson who teaches you to play chess on the kiramman's beautiful wooden board 𓈒 both mama and papa love to play with you when you're on the older side 𓈒 when you're a bit smaller papa will let you make up the rules as you go , humoring you and remarking cheekily when you snatch at his pieces 𓈒

you love grayson's brown leather jacket , always clinging to it when the two of you go out , breathing in it's scent of sweat and grayson's cologne 𓈒 he lets you wear it sometimes which makes you so proud ! you love wearing the kiramman crest and grayson's jacket , proudly marking yourself as both mama and papa's kiddo 𓈒

sitting in the parlor all three of you crowded onto the bench of the grand piano 𓈒 cassandra will play and grayson will sing in a husky slightly out of tune voice 𓈒

your caregivers tucking you in at night , mama smoothing your quilt and sheets so there are no lumps , tucking you and your plushies in tightly , giving all of you kisses 𓈒 your bear is dressed in clothing as well , commissioned specially by cassandra to fit him perfectly in kiramman colors 𓈒 papa will sit at the foot of your bed and tell you a story getting as swept up in the world and characters as you are 𓈒 softly plugging in your nightlight before mama turns off the light , whispering a "sweet dreams" before slipping out of your room quietly 𓈒 "night champ ," grayson will say in a hushed voice , although you're already fast asleep unable to hear him 𓈒

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cryptotheism · 1 year ago

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Amber Skies question for ya, CT! What kinds of games are popular among the different species of Amber Skies? These can be card / board games, children's "playground" games, drinking games - any way you wanna take the prompt.

Oh my god I actually have lore for a card game in universe. The Lwes-Atalan and the Teykorile share a love of card games. They use a "Royt-Pattern" deck that is partially double-faced. Meaning the Five of Shells has a shell pattern on the reverse side. Part of the game is being able to see what suit the next card is, so you can force another player to draw potentially negative cards.

Gambling is a large part of both cultures. Though the Lwes-Atalan tend to favor more strategic, math-heavy games, while the Teykorile tend to enjoy more social-combat focused games that require misdirection and bluffing.

The Baquari have a sport similar to football. It's effectively capture the flag but with mixed martial arts and a focus on wrestling. It's popular among multiple strains because it has roles for several different body types. You need scrawny sprinters, beefy wrestlers, and dexterous throwers. A notable rule is that you can't move while you have the ball, but you can carry the guy that has the ball.

Theres a game similar to chess, played with a deck of cards and wooden pieces. You kinda set up terrain and then deploy pieces on them. There's land tiles, mountain tiles, forest tiles, etc. The different pieces move on them in different ways.

#Amber skies

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chessbazaarusa · 5 months ago

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What Makes The Best Wooden Chess Board?

If you are looking for an extraordinary chess board then here is all you need to know. In this blog, you will get to know about the classic handmade wooden chess boards. Well for professional chess players there needs to be more than the basic chess boards. In this blog, you will get all the information on tournament chess boards.

How to Identify A Tournament ChessBoard?

Here are several points that will help you identify good Tournament chess boards. Here are several characteristics mentioned below:

Size: The board usually measures 21.25-23.625 inches/54-60 cm in width.

Square size: The squares are 2.375 inches (6.0 cm) respective to the FIDE standard and 2.25 inches (5.7 cm) respective to the USCF standard.

Rigidity: The board should be rigid.

Piece size: The base diameter of the king should be 75-80% and for a large square it should be 80-85% of the size.

Material: The board can be created with different materials such as wood, plastic material, cardboard, or marble.

Finishing: The board should be of neutral or frosted type of finish moreover the board should not be shiny at all.

Color: Tournament boards mostly feature black-and-white color combinations together with brown and off-white or green and cream.

Contrast: If the board is made of marble, both a light and a dark square should be adequately contrasted.

Fixing: In case the board is a piece that is distinct from the table, fix it in order to avoid falling off.

Conclusion

So this is how you can buy a good handmade wooden chess board. After all, they are not just time-passing game pieces but pure tournament chess boards for your competition and practice.

#tournament chess boards #handmade wooden chess board #chess boards #chess game #indoor games

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beenbaanbuun · 9 months ago

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little moments - opposites attract universe

i haven’t updated oa in a while (or posted much for that matter….) so i thought i’d give you this!!! there will be a proper yunho and wooyoung chapter but for now, i hope this will satiate you guys’ appetite hehehe

seonghwa

“might i dress you this morning, my lamb?” seonghwa purrs as he laces a hand through your hair. his nails scratch deliciously against your scalp and you can’t help but lean into his touch. with hongjoong leaving early to meet with a potential buyer and yeosang still fast asleep in his own bed, the room feels cold. all you can do for warmth is tuck yourself into your lovers chest and hope that his gentle touch and bare chest is enough to keep you from shivering. he takes the hint and wraps his arms around you. “i know you have that pretty pink apron dress that you’ve yet to wear; did hongjoong buy you that or was it a gift to yourself?”

you can help but smile into his chest, pressing a soft kiss against his exposed collarbone. “is it really a gift to myself if i used hongjoong’s money?” you ponder aloud, forcing a chuckle out of seonghwa’s mouth. it’s like music to your ears, so sweet and adoring. it fills you up from the tip of your toes to the top of your scalp. it’s so warm and bright; a stark contrast to the darkness that you’ve surrounded yourself with day in day out.

“you chose it, didn’t you?” seonghwa rolls onto his back, tugging at your frame so you roll with him. with your fingers splayed against his pecs, it’s easy to keep your balance when he forces you to straddle his hips. they stay there even once your securely balanced, simply appreciating the feeling of the skin beneath them. “and besides, what’s ours is yours, lamb. there’s no ‘hongjoong’s money’ in this house; it belongs to you too.”

“okay, mommy,” you agree with a knowing smirk on your face. a scowl crawls it’s way onto his as his fingers crawl up to your waist. his grip is tight as he tugs you down to eye level, and you’re so thankful that your arms are there to keep you propped up.

there’s danger written all over his face but you can’t do much else than giggle. it’s just so easy to get a reaction out of them, after all! and when causing trouble gets you exactly where you want, why would you ever want to stop?

“careful with those pretty words, lamb,” his voice dips to a low growl, a clear warning of what is to come if you don’t start behaving soon, “it’ll be a lot harder to tease me when your face is pressed into the pillows.”

hongjoong

“check mate,” hongjoong announces with a grin as he shifts his queen across the chess board. you scowl as you try and find a fault in his move, desperately trying to pick it apart so you can accuse him of cheating or something. even with your limited knowledge of chess, though, you can see clear as day that he’s won, in record time as well.

with a swipe of your hand you clear the board, knocking the wooden pieces to the floor in something rather too similar to a child’s tantrum. you’re a sore loser, you guess; something you have in common with the man sitting across from you with a smug grin on his lips. honestly, you almost dread the day you do beat him at his own game. surely there’ll be hell to pay.

“losers clean up, dove,” he grins, showing you his teeth in a predatory grin. it’s the same smile he gives you before pouncing on you and taking you apart orgasm by orgasm, though over the chessboard it feels less sexy and more irritating. not at all like he’s going to pounce on your and instead more like he’s trying to goad you into doing the pouncing. you’d love nothing more than to do so and wipe that grin right off his face, but you know yourself too well. a single well placed command and you’ll be giving in to his every word like he’s a king and you’re his loyal subject.

“since when is that the rule?” you growl as you pick up a pawn from your lap and slam it down onto the board. it’s a simple act of annoyance that only serves to make his grin even more insufferably wide. it honestly takes you by surprise when you pull back your hand and flick the single pawn in his direction. it’s probably not until it bounces from his chest and lands on his lap that you even realise you’ve done it.

well at least you’ve wiped the smile off his face, you think to yourself as you watch his expression crumble into a look of pure and utter confusion. it’s like he can’t quite believe what you’ve done. there’s silence for a beat or two, and you wait for his reaction with bated breath. but then he chuckles, which then turns into a laugh, which then leads to his head being tossed back and the sound of his amusement rattling through his study.

“you’re a fool, dove,” he says brokenly through his joy, “a downright fool.”

yunho

at this point you’re sure that more than half of the artwork in the kim household is some sort of portrait of you. whether it be you on your own or some sort of family portrait doesn’t really matter to you; it doesn’t change the amount of times you’ve had to sit for them. that uncomfortable seat that yunho makes you perch on every single time is practically moulded to fit your ass and thighs at this point. the dents in the cushion are now perfectly aligned with the curves of your body and yet somehow, someway, it remains to be just as uncomfortable as the first day yunho had you sit for him.

“stop moving,” yunho says from behind his canvas. how he can tell you’re shuffling around, trying to find at least one comfortable spot, you don’t really know. his eyes seem to be trained on his work right now. “i’m trying to get the lighting right on your nose, kid, and i can’t when you won’t sit still.”

“well i can’t sit still if your chair isn’t comfy, yunho,” you scoff and fold your arms, entirely giving up on holding the pose he asked you to. the look of disdain on his face as you turn your head to the side is somewhat amusing, although you can’t help but feel a little bad. annoying mingi is fun; annoying yunho feels like you’re kicking a puppy.

an overgrown, overly-talented puppy.

“you know, annoying you isn’t even satisfying,” you say.

yunho raises a brow. “you’re doing this just to annoy me?” he puts his brush down on the little table next to his easel, as if he’s finished with his work for now. and perhaps he is! perhaps you’re free, at last. if you can force yourself into ignoring the clench of his jaw and the annoyed flicks of his tongue against his lower lip, maybe you can believe that lie. “huh,” he scoffs to himself, “i wonder how hongjoong and seonghwa might feel about their precious darling misbehaving?"

"and i wonder how they'll feel when my spine crumbles to dust because of this stupid chair!" you whine. he can't help but crack a smile at that.

"fine," he conceeds, "if you let me finish this portrait in peace, i'll invest in a new chair for next time, alright?"

yeosang

you bash loudly against yeosang’s door, fed up and tired of being ignored by him all day long. he’d been locked in his room since breakfast, even going as far as to excuse himself early from that. seonghwa had voiced his concern, and hongjoong had agreed; something wasn’t right with their mutt. had they not have already agreed to go to a dinner party at one of seonghwa’s clients homes, they would’ve headed straight to mingi’s with a strangely behaved yeosang in towe. for now it’s just you and your yeosang, and getting him to at least give you a sign of life is at the top of your priorities.

“let me in, yeosang!” you yowl as you repeatedly bash the heel of your hand against his door. you can vaguely hear the shift of bed springs beneath the sound of skin on wood, and yet somehow it still surprises you when you hear the click of a lock coming undone. you’ve never done anything quicker than slamming that door open to grant yourself access to your companion’s room. you see him flinch at the sound as he scrambled to get beneath his quilt once more. “what’s wrong with you?”

you take a few steps closer, only to notice the beads of sweat that drip down his face, and the unhappy scowl that perches upon his pretty lips. he looks sick, kind of like he has the flu, and as he pulls his quilt up to his chin, he looks frail. he shivers, despite the sweat that coats him, and his usually alert ears are lying flat atop his skull. another few steps closer and you’re at his bedside, within arms reach but still unsure of what course of action you should take.

“yeosang, wha—”

“pre-rut symptoms,” he cuts you off with a mopey grunt. “i don’t normally get them but i’m late this time, and it seems like my body is out to punish me for that.” he turns over so he’s facing you, eyes pathetic and wet.

“should i call san? ask him to bring them back?” you ask, but he just shakes his head.

“that won’t do anything but make them panic,” he pulls the quilt back as he speaks; a silent invitation that you want nothing more than to take. “just come and cuddle and i’m sure i’ll be cured in no time.”

san

“i’m hungry,” you whisper to hongjoong in the dead of night. judging by the chime of the grandfather clock in the hallway, it’s just after 3 am. he’s barely awake, and yet as he loosens his grip on your body, he still manages to mumble something about you abandoning him. you plant a kiss on his cheek as you crawl over him to exit the bed, hoping it’ll be enough to satiate him and send him right back to sleep.

the walk to the kitchen is quiet, as it usually it at this time of night. except for the squeaky floorboards and the low, bearish snores coming from the living room, there’s nothing. you’d almost call it eerie, but can a girl with a ghost and a werewolf as a best friend really be the judge of that?

you reach the kitchen in no time, but before you push the door open, something makes you pause. a new sound. not jongho or the floorboards, but something entirely different. someone’s crying in there. heaving sobs and small whimpers fill the air, and without even giving it a second thought, you push open the door.

it’s san, dressed in a pair of plaid pyjamas with a matching sleep mask on his forehead to keep his hair out of his face. his eyes are so swollen and puffy that you wonder how he can even see what he’s cooking on the stove. “san?” you say to catch his attention, your voice barely above a whisper. he jumps and looks at you with wide—well, as wide as they can be when they’re swollen with tears—eyes. desperate hands fly up to wipe away the tear tracks from him face, but it’s too late. you’ve already seen him in that state, so what’s the use?

there’s a deep sigh as he drops his hands back to his sides. “you weren’t mean to see me like this,” he warbles, and you have to stop yourself from rolling your eyes. of course you weren’t meant to see him sobbing into a pan; that doesn’t change the fact that you did.

“what’s up, sannie?”

at first he shakes his head, but then he realises who he’s talking to. you’ll only press if he doesn’t tell you, or threaten to tell seonghwa who will only suffocate him with his overbearing tendencies. it’s safer to just tell you.

“this dish just smells like my mum’s cooking," he tries to shrug as if its nothing. as if you haven't just caught him in the middle of an emotional breakdown. "i just miss home sometimes, that's all."

you pull a seat out and drop yourself into it. "would you ever go back?" you ask.

he shakes his head.

"never."

mingi

“why am i stuck with you, again?” mingi groans as he paces along the bookshelves in the lounge. he brushes his fingers along the spines, barely ever stopping to take the time to read what they say.

“because you are,” you scowl at him, which only gets you a glare in return. “fine,” you scoff, “hongjoong is busy with work, seonghwa is in the garden tending the vegetable patch, yeosang is in the garden doing whatever werewolf’s do, and you came unannounced. unless you want me to summon my ghost friend, you’ll have to wait until they’re all finished.”

a look of horror passes over his face as you bring up your ghost, and as much as you’d love to invite your favourite dead bear demon to join you, you can’t help but feel like it will get you into a fair amount of trouble. not the fun kind that leaves you breathless and aching in the best way possible, but the kind that gets you scolded by seonghwa. you can almost imagine what he’d say now. ‘you can’t use jongho as a prank! it’s not fair to him and it’s not fair to mingi!’ he’d be right of course, so instead of calling his name and asking him to appear, you simply fold your arms.

“why are you here, anyway?” you ponder aloud, “don’t you have a werewolf sanctuary to run?”

he gives an unsatisfied grunt. “that’s the problem,” his fingers pull back from the shelf of books, rings glittering in the candlelight as he wipes frustratedly at his face. "i cant do this alone, anymore. more and more werewolves keep coming in and i have the space, but not the staff. do you know how hard it is to feed those guys three times a day? i barely get to spend any time with them because i'm never out of the kitchen."

you want to make a joke about how they must have it much harder than him actually having to eat his cooking, but you bite your tongue. again, you don't want him running to seonghwa spouting off about how 'mean' you've been to him. instead you begin to wrack your brain.

"well," you begin as your brain begins to formulate an idea. whether its a good idea or not is up for debate, but there's no harm in mentioning it, right? mingi can either say yes or no; he has the power here. "i have a friend who's just moved back to town. he's a paranormal investigator so he's used to this kind of stuff..."

mingi ponders it for a second or two before nodding. "tell him to meet me on bakewell street tomorrow, no later than 11."

wooyoung

wooyoung is brash as he pushes his way through the cafe back to his seat across from yours. yells of 'i'm sorry!' and 'careful, i'm right behind you!' echo through the room, despite the fact that he isn't even in your line of sight yet. you almost regret saying yes to coming here with him, yet he'd been so insistent. apparently whenever he's at the house he cant help but feel like he's going to be pounced upon by a jealous werewolf; you, personally, don't see the issue with that.

finally, he breaches the crowd and stumbles his way to your table with a sly grin and tray in hand. as he puts it down atop the table you can’t help but notice that the two cups are practically swimming in all the coffee he spilt. the cups are almost half empty, you think to yourself as you grab one and take a sip. the warm liquid washes over your tongue soothingly, and you let out a relaxed sigh.

“is it good?” wooyoung asks excitedly rather than taking a sip of his own and seeing for himself. you nod before going back for seconds. it is good. “yunho told me about this place! said he liked to come here and sketch whenever he has no ongoing projects.”

you chuckle a little as you put your almost empty mug against the table. between most of it being spilt and your two sips, there really isn’t a lot for you to drink. “i take it life is good with your new roommate then?”

he nods excitedly.

“yunho is really cool,” you shrug, only half agreeing. he feels more like a narc-esque older brother to you, but you daren’t break wooyoung’s spirit. “and there’s so many dead people in that morgue! i can continue my blog without without having to beg rich people to investigate their homes.”

you hum, “and you don’t have to live in that grimy van anymore!” he just shrugs in response.

“funnily enough, the van was never an issue.”

“you’re gross…”

jongho

“jongho?” you call out as you storm your way into the living room. you’ve been kicked out of yeosang’s room, again, and you’re in desperate need of amusement. well, attention would probably be a better way to put it yet somehow your pride refuses to let you admit that. “you are in here right?”

a breeze passes through the room as you sit yourself down on the rug that is inseparable from your friend. you lace your fingers through the fur as the breeze gets stronger. you blink, only a millisecond passing before you open your eyes again. when you do, he’s there, tear tracks on his cheeks and a heavy fur pelt draped over his shoulder. he smiles through the tears, his nose scrunching cutely in a way that makes you adore him even more. for a demon, he’s awfully sweet.

“hello, friend,” he leans in close, the concept of physical boundaries remaining a complicated topic for him. after all, he’s spent months and months just sat watching you and yeosang. it was pretty early on that you found out that jongho just didn’t understand that your friendship with yeosang was entirely different to your friendship with him. he’s never had a friend before; how is he supposed to know that every friendship is different?

“hi, jongho,” you giggle as you rest a gentle hand on his shoulder to push him back onto his haunches. it takes little to no resistance which is just another sign that there is not a single evil bone in his body. it’s hard to even comprehend him as anything but a darling, and you certainly can’t see a ferocious killer. there’s too much kindness in his heart for that. “how’s haunting going?”

“haunting?” he tilts his head in confusion.

“yeah! you’re a ghost occupying a house,” you explain, although the look of confusion never really leaves his eyes, “therefore you’re haunting, jongho.”

“but,” he bites his lip, “i’m not occupying this house by choice! am i still haunting?”

you shrug, realising the topic of conversation is way outside of your breadth of knowledge regarding ghosts. what seonghwa tells you is law, and he never really got into the specifics of haunting. besides, now you’re the one who’s intrigued. you lean in a little closer to him this time.

“what if you did have a choice?” you ask, curiosity filling you up from the tip of your toes right to the very top of your head. “would you go elsewhere?”

it takes mere seconds for jongho to shake it head, and you have to breathe a sigh of relief. the knowledge that he wants to be here is comforting in a way; it means he isn’t really here against his will, even if technically speaking he is.

“why would i want to go anywhere else?” he says, “i have you here, friend.”

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez fluff #ateez scenarios #ateez fic #ateez headcanons #opposites attract universe

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