#and that it's probably better if it remained asleep/dead

[thewolfisawake]

The Abyssborn Part 7.5: Balmoral

The adapted being...is not something standard. As in it's not a typical creation and thus a bit to unpack. For the most part, the being is called 'The Devourer.' And no prizes for guessing what it does. It appearance wise is two major ways being that is seemingly comprised of this condensed swarm of 'insects,' much like how in cartoons swarms can take different forms to cause all this damage or what have you. The other is considered bestial, a large quadrupedal with it almost appearing that it is wreathed in these swarms. It has a maw more reminiscent of fantasy worms with teethy mouths or the ones with that split mouth. And it has claws that can sound deceptively soft. It also has more tentacle-like 'legs' that can sprout, with its ends looking more like sharpened appendages of say any insect you can name.

In terms of appearance, Balmoral suppresses much of any look that has to do with the Devourer. The most ever showing is that he has teef, as Kristen likes to call them, so sharper canines. Instead of like a snake as some might for vampires, it's a bit more like...the pincers of a spider. But there is an appearance if he ever 'devolved' towards it. Where the crystalline appearance of his true form is, it gets darker and has a wreathing sort of aura around it. He gains claws that are somewhat insectoid, somewhat exactly what you think of claws. And rather than or mixed with the hoarfrost, is what almost look like shadows crawling across his skin that on closer inspection look more like centipedes. And perfectly concealed until actually set upon is a more teethy maw. He does gain wings with one set more like a moth's wing and the other more like a dragonfly's (the layering I see being similar to beetles or ladybugs).

...Bal does not find this appearance pretty by any means and thus kinda just does not let it be seen and unless he was gone mentally, would likely be horrified and terrified of being seen in this state. But it is from the Devourer that he gains his 'd/sney princess' thing of communicating with insects. And that's what he'll say it is. But the truth is that is actually 'vermin' so the range is technically larger than what he states. However he usually sticks with moths because...well, they're the ones people find most palatable. It is actually because of this that he also has sensitivity in his hair. It's similar to the antennae (but no, it is not how he hears or communicates, he does still have ears and a voice after all).

As for what the Devourer does...well, it consumes. And it is able to consume anything. From physical deterrents like bone to poisonous sacs; to things normally used for fighting such as melee weapons and magic; to nonstandard things like divinity and energy; and can go all the way to consuming creation and creators alike. And it is not even for some huge endgame. It has all-encompassing need/want that the conclusion for solving is to consume. The one that Balmoral is adapted from could be considered more 'benevolent' than others. It is one that will cause calamity when awaken and is in 'a haze' when conscious. However it has an affection for the world it ended in and knowing that its active existence is detrimental, chooses to sleep instead.

And while Balmoral chooses to ignore it...there are parts of the Devourer that simply is in his being. The hunger is one of them and it is why he's noted as 'insatiable.' Food, drink, sex, knowledge, connection...all of it are means to keep himself sated. So he eats a lot, will look like he drinks to excess, has his reputation of a lover and seemingly always 'going for more.' The impulses for this hunger are like an incessant drone in his head and it annoys him greatly. However he's old enough to not process it as actual words and just a 'buzzing.' On the other hand Balmoral feels he has to do a part to keep the hunger in check because otherwise he'll act instinctually...which is normally very violent and lead to problems.

This is most prominent with sleeping with others. I will say, he is very much a typical fae that is very into sleeping with others normally. However it is also something of a need for him to see others. Mhoirbheinn is his lover but Balmoral cannot solely be with him because it puts Mhoirbheinn in danger. This danger comes from Balmoral's obsessive self that would lead to him fixating to a point of madness. Imagine those heart eyes sort of thing. And this madness stirs that Devourer part. Because in a sense, Balmoral's all-encompassing want is love. He's so in love with his partner that he wants nothing more than to have them wholly. He wants their everything completely. To be possessed and possess them fully. And again, the Devourer's answer to the want IS TO EAT THEM. So by not balancing his interaction and himself around his lover, Balmoral risks EATING him because he desires Mhoirbheinn THAT MUCH. (Is this my attempt to get Mhoirbheinn to understand that he is very much at risk? Maybe. Do I feel it is on deaf ears??? Unfortunately!)

Interestingly despite eating anything, there are preferences to the Devourer. It likes to eat dreams and 'fear' in a sense. Both instances, it's more of the creativity of individual and collective that comprise their dreams and how 'the imagination can create something far worse than described.' It likes these because it is something it inherently lacks. It sleeps but it cannot dream. It can incite fear but it cannot feel fear. So it experiences these through proxy of what is consumes. It also like destruction because of the unique sort of chaos that it causes and the unknown sort of mentality that will crop up during it.

Bal is a strangeness to the Devourer part because it is part to a whole...and the whole self is a being that can dream and feel fear and experience what it cannot. So it is actually pretty content with Balmoral's ignorance towards it because it passively experiences what normally is impossible for its being. Though it does lend itself to Balmoral's aversion to sleeping for long as dreaming is so very beautiful to it and is that part that wants to lull Bal to sleep for a very long time. He has stuff to do so he fights this urge a lot. And Balmoral channels his violence into when he has the chance. It's likely why he seems to do 'too much' for punishment or dealing in his enemies.

What makes the Devourer dangerous is sense of 'nullification' in that a lot of things do not seem to bother it. And in return...what it has consumed, it can do. So if it eats lightning, that motherfucker can belch lightning if it so pleased. So getting to 'bigger game' is a bad time for any place dealing with it. Basically the higher up in consumption it has been...the harder it is to kill it. But on the other hand with Balmoral, he doesn't show any of this aside from mentally adapting against those he's dealt with before.

As for weaknesses of the being...well, it is an existence that's hard to start to begin with. The Devourer's existence are ones that likely die very quickly and it is rare they excel at all. They consume so much and it isn't considered very efficient or effective. So they end up exhausting quickly and end up on some world to either die out or sleep. Sleep is actually a very effective thing against Balmoral. It's immeasurably pleasurable to a Devourer and bonus if you can concoct all sorts of dreams. Sleep-based curses and the like work a little too well on him and unless combated when it first strikes, it's gonna be a little to get him to rouse on his own. If even capable of that.

The other is from Balmoral's refusal to indulge this aspect of himself as often. Because of him not consuming 'bigger' and the like, Balmoral can't necessarily handle things a Devourer should. The bigger concepts...he can't straight up consume that. Maybe if he started indulging, he could but as it stands he can't. So in some sense it can take him out. He could also be overwhelmed by the Devourer's need to consume and take something his body cannot handle. Notably, something like this was the problem with the Corruption with him. It used the Devourer's instincts to further the Corruption with Balmoral, who is not able to just absorb the creation energy.

However, I will say as a caveat that Bal does have a passive sort of 'consumption' that makes radiating things like auras or divinity take longer to get to him. Like auras that cause fear and panic...it'd take longer to get to Bal simply because he has an aura that eats anything and when it gets filled (which it can), then Bal feels it. So it ends up being that Balmoral is either delayed in reaction or that he ends up in higher risk because he has to be hit with a higher dosage, which is gonna start fucking up him up faster and worse. 'Direct line' sort of effects such as gazing into the eyes, touch and the like do still work normally because there is nothing diffusing their effect in this case.

[oddinary4bts]

Chasing Cars | teaser (jjk)

☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?

☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader

☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters have mature content)

☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff

☆warnings: alcohol consumption, curses

☆word count: 1.1k

☆a/n: teaser time babyyyy!! I hope you guys love it :') thank you to @moonleeai and @jessikahathaway for beta-ing, you guys are the best <3

☆series masterpost

☆add yourself to the taglist here!

☆☆☆☆☆

If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?

Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol

☆☆☆☆☆

The hour is late. Jungkook is tipsy, far more than he thought he’d get tonight, but then again, Taehyung is not in a better state, and Sera, Jimin’s girlfriend, had to force him to go home before they got too drunk.

They’re all supposed to help Taehyung’s little sister move in tomorrow, Jungkook included.

“Man,” Taehyung lets out, and Jungkook looks away from the game of Smash they’re playing - that he’s majestically losing - to focus on Taehyung.

“What?” he lets out.

“Can’t believe Y/n will be here tomorrow,” Taehyung answers.

“Can’t believe you’re forcing me to live with a girl.”

Taehyung chuckles. “Don’t worry, Y/n is chill.”

Jungkook doesn’t doubt she is, considering how well he gets along with Taehyung, and Taehyung’s made it seem that he gets along well with his sister. He imagines Y/n’s just going to be a mini Taehyung, which frankly could be fun to have around.

But he doesn’t know anything about her other than the fact that she is Taehyung’s little sister.

“You know,” Taehyung adds as the game finishes. “I meant to tell you something.”

Jungkook cocks his pierced eyebrow in question. “Yeah?”

“Just wanted to say that if you touch my sister, you’re fucking dead.”

Jungkook bursts out laughing, shaking his head, but Taehyung remains entirely serious. Like he meant what he just said - could he?

“You’re joking right?” Jungkook asks as his laughter fades away.

“No, I’m dead ass,” Taehyung insists. “You breathe in her direction, and you’re dead.”

“Damn.” Jungkook widens his gaze, and then picks up the beer he’s been slowly drinking since Jimin left. “Understood.”

Hell, Jungkook knows that he sleeps around. Taehyung does the same - he can’t help but understand Taehyung when he says to stay away from his sister. And he thinks it’ll be easy. Y/n’s probably just going to be a clueless baby college kid, and though Jungkook doesn’t mind going for younger, he’ll have plenty of new faces to explore once Frosh week starts next week anyways.

So he promises Taehyung he has nothing to worry about, and they play a couple more games before they head to bed.

Jungkook wakes up early the next morning, the sun shining right in his face the most efficient alarm he’s ever used before. He wants to go to the gym before helping Taehyung’s sister, and though he hates being awake so early, he immediately forces himself to get up lest he falls back asleep.

His workout goes well, and he’s pleasantly sore when he heads back home. He’s lucky - he manages to park not too far from the apartment. He’s walking home, gym bag in one hand and his phone in the other, when Taehyung texts him to ask where he is.

Jungkook types ‘Fuck off’, pressing send as his attention is solely on his phone.

Until said phone flies out of his hand as he collides with a girl he didn’t notice, and Jungkook watches in horror as the device falls in a flower bed.

“Shit, I’m so sorry,” you say, and you immediately dive into the flower bed, retrieving Jungkook’s phone. 

You hand it to him, and Jungkook just stares at you, mouth agape. He’s aware he’s staring and that he probably looks stupid, but he’s dumbfounded.

You’re the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, and he’s seen a lot.

“Don’t worry about it,” he answers quickly when you cock an eyebrow, your cheeks slowly turning red. “I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“At least it didn’t break,” you say, and you flash him a quick smile.

It does things to his heart that Jungkook barely comprehends - it’s like his heart is going miles a minute, yet it’s soothing, warm, much like the pavement feels in the summer when the sun has just dipped below the horizon.

“Right, yeah,” Jungkook answers, and his cheeks burn.

His cheeks fucking burn, and he wishes he could just disappear, dive below the ground until you can’t see him anymore. You just keep on smiling, eyes never disconnecting from his, and he wonders if you, too, feel like he does.

Shit, he thinks he might even hear bells in the distance.

You glance away, and it’s like he’s falling forward while not moving at all, and all he can do is pathetically clear his throat, as if that’s going to offer any help.

“I see you’ve met Y/n!” Taehyung yells from behind you, and Jungkook freezes.

Jungkook freezes, and then something burns in his lungs, like he’s under the surface struggling for futile oxygen he knows he won’t find.

You are… Taehyung’s sister.

You’re Y/n.

His best friend’s little sister.

The one thing Jungkook can’t have.

It makes him feel cold, his heart suddenly dropping in the Arctic sea amongst the icebergs. 

“We literally ran into each other,” you say, looking back towards your brother.

And Jungkook sees it - your hair is the same shade as Taehyung’s, your face has the same shape. The smile though - your smile is different from Taehyung’s, and maybe that’s why he was fooled.

Fooled for a few seconds which felt like an eternity.

You walk away then, heading to the open back door of a car. You grab a box, and Jungkook puts his phone in his pocket, eyeing a bag on the backseat.

“Do you want me to bring this in?” he asks.

Only because he wants you to look at him again. His heart flutters in his chest when you do, and he forces it down with a swallow as you nod once.

“Yes, please!”

Jungkook nods too, and he grabs the bag before following you in. His right foot lands on the first step leading to the apartment when Taehyung stops him with a hand on his arm.

Jungkook frowns slightly, meeting his best friend’s gaze.

“I’m serious, JK,” Taehyung says through gritted teeth. “You fucking touch her, you’re dead.”

And Jungkook knows right then and there that he’s fucked. Entirely, thoroughly, immensely fucked.

Because he already wants you, and he hasn’t even talked to you for more than twenty seconds.

“Don’t worry,” he reassures Taehyung, and he hopes Taehyung can’t hear how fake he sounds.

How is he supposed to resist indulging in you when he already knows you’re all he’s ever wanted? 

He really is entirely, thoroughly, immensely fucked.

☆☆☆☆☆

Read chapter one here!

What did we think? Are we excited to read?? Let me know here!

All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.

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[fullfriendnerdclutch]

Richard actually preferred to spent his Spring Break lounging around his quaint and peaceful university town. But, since his Uncle drove all the way down to pick him up unannounced, simply because Richard is in the same state now, not like he could just shush that man away so he lazily packed his bag and hit the road with the 43 years old hulk of a DILF

They didn't talk much throughout the long trip into the farmland as Richard pretended to fall asleep before eventually really falling asleep on the way there. But he's dead wrong to assume that his Uncle is unaware of his avoidance. In fact, that very attitude is the sole reason why his Uncle came all the way down to pick him up. It's time to mold Richard into the perfect Dawson boys, and Spring Break provides the best timeline in order for Richard to hit his final alteration right during summer

When the pair arrived at the sprawling farm, Richard realized how stinking rich his family must be with all these acres of land under their possession. It's been more than a decade since he last visited the family farm, but clearly this visit will leave him with the memory about the family farm much more clearly. His uncle let him rest for the remainder of the day, he even fell asleep right after his quick dinner and cleaning himself. But Richard didn't expect that he needs to do some hard labour the following morning!

"Your cousin Adam is spending some time with his sickly wife while Steve took off for the entirety of this Spring Break to spend time with his kids. So I need your help, boy,"

"Wait, Adam is married?"

"Yes, a year ago, don't you remem--- oh yeah, you were on your gap year trip,"

The tone his uncle used irked Richard a bit, gap year trip, but he let it go. His mind is focused on the fact that Adam is the same age as him, and he's married? At 20? 19 if he considered the fact it happened a year ago.....what a totally different life the two of them have. His uncle snapped Richard's out of his mind as he told the pale, gangly-looking Richard to put on the boots before helping him around the farm and the ranch. Richard at first doubted that he could fit into the boots, but somehow it fits him just right. So, off he goes with his uncle

Day after day, the routine remained the same. He will wake up at around 5 or 6 AM, have his loaded breakfast and head out with his uncle. He surprisingly found himself enjoying the routine, he even started to address his Uncle with "Sir" and cooked the breakfast for the two. He simply didn't notice the change in his reflection on how his skin tanned on its own, how his form straightened rather than hunched per usual, how all his clothings somehow altered to solely consist of black t-shirt, jeans and some plaid shirt and he just didn't bother to ask his uncle for the whereabouts of his other clothing. He also failed to notice how his uncle has been subliminally planting in his subconsciousness that he enjoyed working in the farm, that he preferred to be called Dick since Richard sounded too posh for him, that Dick has always been interested with farming and the idea to continue the family's business, that Dick wanted to recruit some good trusted friends of his to join the family's business and how he needs to pivot to study about agriculture or farming in uni.....well, scratch that, he will probably drop out later in the summer and learn better about farming or agriculture by working with his Uncle.

Imagine the surprise his roommates got when Richard went back from his Spring Break 30 lbs heavier and looking like a Southern farm stud with his outfit and the way he got this drawl out of nowhere. And he apparently have a souvenir too for them

"Got these from my Uncle, now, try to put these babies on and tell me how it feels,"

---

Fast forward to summer, not only Dick really followed through with his drop out plan, he brings along his now much-more fitting roommate to join him in the farm

Hey there, a bit rushed with this execution but hope it's still an enjoyable read

[hollowed-theory-hall]

Hello! In DH it says the potter cottage’s top floor was blown apart because of the curse back fire, do you think this effected Lily’s corpse? Petunia says that Lily “went and got herself exploded” so is it possible that her remains were damaged to some extent making it so she wouldn’t be able to have an open casket? What’s your thoughts on this?

That is definitely possible. I mean, the scene of Snape hugging Lily's corpse is movie only, Snape in the books wasn't even there, so yeah.

Honestly, that would make the scene Hagrid stepped into even more haunting and grisly. Even in PS, Hagrid mentions the house was destroyed:

“No, sir — house was almost destroyed, but I got him out all right before the Muggles started swarmin’ around. He fell asleep as we was flyin’ over Bristol.”

(PS, Ch1)

He could see it; the Fidelius Charm must have died with James and Lily. The hedge had grown wild in the sixteen years since Hagrid had taken Harry from the rubble that lay scattered amongst the waist-high grass. Most of the cottage was still standing, though entirely covered in dark ivy and snow, but the right side of the top floor had been blown apart;

(DH, Ch17)

I don't think Hagrid, who loved James and Lily, would ignore their bodies if they were there, so I wonder if James' body fell into the living room or something, so his position + the dark made it so he wasn't visible from the hall when Hagrid entered and Lily wasn't recognaisable to him in the rubble of the second floor + the dark.

Though it kinda sounds like the rubble fell outside the house for the most part. And it makes sense, it was blasted away by the curse, so Lily should be visible, even if she was damaged by the explosion (unless rubble fell inside too, which is possible). I mean, Hagrid didn't arrive immediately (it took him at least 20 minutes, I think, after the event), so it's likely the walls were blasted away and some of the remaining walls and ceiling caved in when some of the support was lost. So, I kinda think Lily was hidden by rubble if Hagrid wasn't crying about her and James, as he would have if he found them dead, I think.

Honestly, the whole scene would be insane to walk into:

Like, you climb up the stairs and the house looks like there was an explosion. The walls are crumbling, even on the first floor, but the second is worse. The walls are gone on one side of the house. The chill night air flows into what was once a hall, but now is littered with rubble of stone and wood where the roof caved in. The floors creak beneath your feet, threatening to give way as you walk towards a crib, the only thing that seems to still be standing, bathed in moonlight. Shockingly, the child in it is alive. Crying and bleeding from his forehead, but alive. Just like Dumbledore said he would be.

Like, that's an insane scene for Hagrid to walk into, so maybe I can understand not noticing James and Lily when he walks in when the house looks like it does... But I am wondering where he thinks James and Lily are and why he didn't get their bodies, I mean, this sounds like something Hagrid would do? Was he told they weren't there? Did he assume they weren't there?

But, for your question, yeah, it's possible Lily's body was damaged by the explosion/rubble, but I don't think that would necessitate a closed cascket, necessarily. I mean, they are wizards, so I'm sure there are ways to magically fix up a body for burial that are better than we can, and the damage probably wasn't too bad considering Harry and his crib remained undamaged. At least, that's what I assume considering what magic is capable of.

[wearywinchester]

Settle Down

Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: A rough day leaves you unable to sleep, and unable to slow your thoughts from racing. But a certain hunter knows the solution to make things better.

Warnings: angst, anxiety, crying, mild language, fluff

You woke up again, just the same as you’d done probably as little as minutes ago. With the same pound of your heart, so much so it sent trembles through you. With the same wetness on your cheeks, the breeze from the half open window blowing over them and cooling the heat that burned in them.

You were still slightly dampened with sweat, each prickling round of it never having fully gone away. You woke up just as disoriented as the previous time, just as confused. And it remained as such until your gaze scanned around the room.

It was fine. You were at Bobby’s house, in that familiar old bedroom. You were laying on that same old twin size mattress, surrounded by those same four walls and all the posters that hung on it, their corners peeling away.

It was fine. You were in a familiar space, and not trapped in the nightmare your mind had created for you. You weren’t, but your head was telling you otherwise, and nothing could outmatch the stubbornness of your very own mind.

But this time it was different. It was different in the sense of dread it left you with. The dread of falling back asleep and repeating the same routine as you’d done so many times before, all in this same night.

You were so tired, so very tired and the fatigue weighed heavy on you. It was damn near maddening how exhausted you were, yet completely awake all the same. And you couldn’t bear the thought of tossing and turning and returning to that space your mind created for you should you allow yourself to close your eyes again. You couldn’t. You won’t.

You were fairly certain everyone was still in the house, but given the hour, there wasn’t much movement to base your guess around. You could only hope for it to be so.

And hope is what you held as you pushed the covers back towards the foot of the bed. They’d been suffocating you with an overwhelming heat, yet the moment they’d left your skin, a bout of shivers ran through you immediately. But the inconvenience wasn’t fully so as you planted your feet on the floor.

You were unbalanced as you stood up, that tremble radiating from head to toe as your heart did little in slowing down since you’d woken up.

Everything in the room was as you’d left it, from your duffel bag to your shoes, though you were certain you wouldn’t have been able to notice a change with how worked up you were in that moment. But you knew enough to know things were as they should be, knew enough to know you were alright where you were in Bobby Singer’s house.

You stepped in the hallway, the small nightlight that was plugged into the wall by the baseboards having illuminated the space some. The door to the room Sam was staying in was closed, the light from the lamp that’d been shining under the door having been turned off.

Bobby’s door had been closed as well, the sound of his snores seeping through the old wood having been a dead giveaway that he was home too. But neither were what you were looking for, and you continued on to the stairs in search of it.

You wince at the sound of the wooden boards, creaking under your feet. It spiked a fear of being heard by something you wouldn’t want to, the sound having attracted the attention of monster after monster in all the homes you’d hunted in before.

This isn’t there, you remind yourself.

But still, the fear was still there.

The further down you got, the closer to the first floor you were, you saw the glow of the lamp illuminating the space warmly, the one in the living room. And the closer you got, the more you heard the sound of the tv playing a show you couldn’t discern. But, regardless, it sent a flicker of relief through you.

You stepped down from the last step and looked to your side, seeing a familiar boot, half tucked under familiar blue jeans dangling off the couch. You walked towards the living room, relief in your timid stride as you got closer.

Dean was on the couch, eyes closed and arms crossed over his chest. One leg lay outstretched across the couch, the other having been bent, his foot planted on the floor.

The coffee table was littered with lore, newspapers and clippings scattered across it. A plate with pizza crust was on the far end, a couple empty beer bottles amidst it all. The rest of the six pack sit on the floor by the table, the one he bought at the gas station down the road.

His lips were parted and he was snoring softly, and it was then that you’d begun to feel bad. He was just as tired if not more. You shouldn’t be bothering him with your stupid little sleepless night, you shouldn’t disturb his sleep just because you couldn’t maintain your own slumber.

That feeling was sinking and it had you swallowing thickly, tears stinging your eyes at how hopeless you felt as you backed away, spinning on your heel as you began to leave the room.

You tried your best to be light on your feet, to sneak back upstairs just the same as you snuck down. But it was silly to be so hopeful, the floor creaking seemingly louder than before as you stepped on it.

You squeezed your eyes shut and held your breath.

“Sweetheart?”

Dammit.

You released the breath you were holding and opened your eyes after a moment. You felt selfish for the relief you felt upon hearing his voice.

You turned around after a moment or two, meeting his half squinted gaze as he sat up a little bit. You swallow thickly as you look at him, optimistic that maybe you didn’t look distressed, that maybe you looked like your normal self. But again, that was a silly notion.

“You okay?” He asks.

Your nod was immediate, frighteningly so, and you knew it wasn’t believable. “‘M fine.”

Your voice was trembled and you hated it, the pitiful sound having made you want to cry even more. He was never going to fall for that one.

“Y/n,” he says, and you can hear it in his voice as he wakes up more. He was never fully asleep anyway. “C’mere.”

“I said I’m fine, Dean. Was just grabbing some water.”

He knew for a fact that was nothing other than a lie. He knew it because he brought you a full glass just thirty minutes ago, and it accompanied the other glass that remained there from when he’d brought it up earlier. And he knew that if he would’ve been up there with you he’d have been awoken by your nightmare, saw it with his own eyes in real time. But he sees it now, can tell that’s what it is.

The only reason he’d been sleeping separately was because that damn twin bed was too small for two, and he wanted you to have your space. Because when you’re upset that’s most always what you want, even though he would have crammed himself onto that mattress in a heartbeat had you wanted him to.

You do want him.

“Yeah, well, ‘m not asking. C’mere,” he says, soft yet demanding all the same.

You don’t hesitate, your feet moving before your mind could tell you to stop. You walk right over to him and around that coffee table. You feel the warmth of his hand as it wraps around your wrist, tugging you down to sit in his lap.

The couch was warm, what little you felt of it anyway. But you tucked yourself against him, as tightly as you could manage. You no longer cared how pitiful and afraid you looked, he knew that’s how you felt regardless of how hard you tried to look brave and tough and strong. It was a useless effort and you gave up trying to hold it steady.

He picked up the remote and turned the volume down a couple notches, but left it on. He knew you don’t sleep as well without something on in the background.

He tossed it to the side, and you jostled around for a moment from your spot on his chest as he reached up and grabbed the fleece blanket from the back of the couch, opening it up with a couple shakes. It fell over you with a cool breeze before the weight of it conformed around you, warm, but not as warm as the green eyed hunter you’d tucked yourself against.

“Better?” He asks, the single word having been spoken against your forehead.

It wasn’t until he heard your hum of approval that he pressed a kiss there, humming himself as he smoothed your hair away from your face.

“Thought it might be.”

Dean Winchester may be rough around the edges, you knew that to be true, but a side so few see is just how much softer than that he could be. Just how nurturing he truly is.

You knew it to be so as he caress your skin with a featherlight touch, the calloused feeling of his hand having mingled with the warmth, the feeling putting the idea of comfort to shame as his hand settles on your cheek.

He can feel the heat in your face, can really feel it as he wipes away the dampness from your tears with a swipe or two of his thumb. He knew you weren’t alright, he knew it from the moment you got in the car earlier that day.

His lips were soft and warm as they pressed their way along your forehead and against your temple, nearly making circles if soft kisses as his fingers gently worked through every tangle in your hair.

“Wanna talk about it?” He asks softly.

You respond with a simple shake of your head, and you began to worry he’d confuse it with a nod, but your worries soon diminish.

“‘S alright,” he says, “won’t make you talk.”

You exhale a long sigh, feeling as though you’d been holding your breath even though you haven’t been. But you lift your head as much as you could muster, tipping your head back to look at him and admire.

Admire the way he looks at you, the way he observes every inch of your face. The way he tangles you up with himself, keeping you close. The way he looks so sleepy, yet so ready to go up against anything that even puts thought into hurting you. You just look at him for a few moments.

“I love you,” you whisper, soft and gentle and entirely meaningful.

You watch a soft smile tug at the corners of his mouth, soon to fall from your line of sight as you lean up and kiss him. But when you pull back and look it him once more, it’s never left.

In a few fleeting moments he bends his legs to scoot you upwards, tucking you into him all the more closely. His hand settles on your cheek as his lips press to your forehead, and one to your nose. He pulls that blanket up some more, and lays further into the couch.

“I won’t let anything happen, sweetheart.”

In other words, I love you too.

And finally, for the first time that night, you were able to settle down.

—

Taglist: @harrysweasleys @flamencodiva @stixnstripesworld @elegantbutedgy @campingmonkey @lanea-1 @deandaydreaming @agalliasi @malindacath @ajreturnstocringeyaccount @deanswaywardgirl @awkward-and-indecisive @drownthewitch @happyt0exist @sparkycorleone @humanmistakes @akshi8278 @kidd3ath @nyotamalfoy @elliewigginton20 @wandering-winchesters @senjoritanana

[seetangus]

Taking care - Azula x gn reader

[masterlist]

Hello, thank you so much for liking my writing and for requesting! I hope I got everything right! Also, I am not familiar with anything about mute people but I tried my best to make it work :)

Azula x gn reader fluff, 2.202 words, warnings: bad treatment of prisoners, abuse of power, crying

This took very long to write and I am sorry for that. And something went wrong with answering to the request again, but hopefully it still reaches you as a little belated Christmas gift

In the midst of the night something woke you up. It was the clinking of keys - after having spent almost two years in the asylum, you knew this sound by heart. But why would the guards unlock something at night? Slowly, you stood up and made your way towards the door of your cell to hear the happenings better.

After only a few moments it was clear what they were doing - right after they pushed the door leading to your hallway open, a female's muffled screams of protest echoed through the halls. They brought a new inmate.

For you, this was probably the most exciting thing that had ever happened to you here, as you lived alone in this compartment of the building.

Even though the guards had gagged the new prisoner, her screams still made you shudder - they emitted pure rage and despair. It was understandable, though. Given the circumstance that the woman's voice sounded rather young and most people who got taken here would never leave this unpleasant place for the rest of their lifetime, she had a reason to be upset.

You felt bad for whoever this was; she sounded like she needed help instead of punishment. However, it could be that it was only your innocent (naive) character that made you think such things; most people imprisoned here were mass murderers or worse.

However, you had other things to worry about for the moment, as the guards were coming closer to your cell, and if they realised you were awake at night-time they would probably punish you, so you hurried back into your bed, or rather onto your wooden plank with a tattered blanket.

You did so just at the right moment, because right after you had laid down, you heard the noise of the guard's keys in the keyhole of your door! A moment later, your door opened with a noisy screeching noise that would have startled you even if you had been sleeping, but just to play it safe you continued to pretend to be asleep.

Despite the woman's muffled cries now being audible in your room, which should have definitely woken you up, the guards seemed to truly believe you were asleep, one of them roughly shaking you at your shoulder to wake you up, making the shoulder hurt.

You now hesitantly sat up in your sleeping place, looking at the guards and the women they brought into your room - or rather rolled, as she was put in a straitjacket and placed on a movable chair for movement purposes. "Meet your new cellmate.", one of the guards said in an unmistakably gloating tone, "Since this lunatic can't do it herself, you will make sure she eats her daily rations and doesn't shit herself, got it?" You nodded. "Great", the guard responded, "but you don't need to take it too seriously. Wouldn't be a great loss if we got rid of her quickly." With that the guards left.

Maybe you s h o u l d be worried that you were left alone in your cell with what seemed like a raving maniac, but something seemed familiar about that new person, although you could not quite make it out in the dark - also, you pitied her for how the guards treated her. The guards often picked on you too, but they didn't ever say they wouldn't mind you being dead - well, not directly.

< • ◇ • >

Since the guards had closed the door and left, the woman had remained completely silent. Not one tone had left her lips, and she had not moved. Since she also did not show any kind of interest in you, you decided it would be best to go to sleep again. Doing so was hard, as you were very curious and scared of your new cellmate, but tomorrow would be a hard day, so you had to sleep well. As the new woman did not move or make noise, eventually you returned to your realm of dreams again.

And a dream it was that revealed to you where you had seen the woman before. You had heard that you often dreamed about things you had experienced but forgotten, and this was such an instance. You had already met the woman - well, “met” was an exaggeration, but you had seen her: she was princess Azula of the fire nation, and when she had been old enough to enter the war a few years ago, there had been pictures of her all over the place. That had been just a few weeks before you got imprisoned.

After waking up there were many questions in your head: Why was Azula in this Asylum? Was the war over? Was the whole royal family of the fire nation imprisoned? Who ruled the fire nation now? Etc. etc.

You could have worried about these things the whole day, but in this Asylum there wouldn’t be any information or news accessible. There never were. Azula would also not talk to you… you had heard of her character before you got here. Even the few things you had heard of her were quite enough to make you reevaluate your situation. If she treated you like she treated anyone else, you were in a very bad place. Not that the asylum hadn’t been bad before, it just made it worse. You would have to be very cautious with her.

“Are you finally awake?” You were pulled out of your thoughts by her condescending voice. Her arrogant voice. Her beautiful voice.

You could hear in her words that she was a born ruler; you immediately sat straight up and nodded with your head. When you looked up at her again, you flushed brightly; she was beautiful. And even sitting chained to her chair in a straitjacket her gaze looking down at you from above made you feel goosebumps.

You felt fear, but also admiration.

“You probably know who I am, so let me be clear: as long as I am held in this unworthy place, you will serve to my needs in any way I want. Understood?” You gulped and nodded again. The disproportionality of being a prisoner yet wanting to rule others and succeeding was fascinating to you.

Anyways, once the guards arrived to bring your food, things seemed a lot different. The guards pushed you around like usual, but they seemed to find it especially entertaining to humiliate Azula. They didn’t only make fun of her but also sprayed some of her food on her and leaned her chair in an uncomfortable position, her obviously unable to get out of it on her own. Azula screamed at the guards in anger, but you could hear how her voice got weaker.

Once the guards were gone, you immediately relocated her chair to a normal place. Given that you weren’t exactly able to do sports in this place and you already lived here for some time, this was a lot harder than you expected, but you succeeded.

You then thought about cleaning the food off her, but that would involve touching her and you were very reluctant to do that. She was not well right now, she was very vulnerable and everything that happened to her now could hurt her, you saw that.

But you were here to help her, weren’t you? You did not care if she wouldn’t thank you for it or if she deserved to be treated like this, she was human and you were too, and that was reason enough for your heart to break when seeing someone endure such pain. 

Hesitantly, you moved towards her and began brushing the food the guards had sprayed over her jacket off with your hand. To your surprise, she said nothing, she only looked at you in an appraising manner. You dared not to look up at her face even though most of it was covered in loose hair that had been swirling around during the rough treatment by the guards.

After cleaning your hands you figured it would be best to do as the guards had told you yesterday and try to feed Azula. You picked up the wooden spoon and filled it with the porridge that was served here and moved it towards her mouth. But to actually reach it, you would have to move away her messy long hair.

You gulped. That would not be easy. You laid down the spoon again and moved your hands towards her face. When you touched her hair she first pulled back but didn’t resist anymore when she understood what you were doing.

You very carefully split her hair in the middle and moved it to the sides. You gently brushed it behind her ears, uncovering her beautiful face that was now close to yours. Your fingers meeting her warm skin sent shivers through your body as they had for years now not felt anything but the hard and cold stone of this cell. Her eyes resting on your face did not make this easier as well, as you felt your whole body heating up.

With a reddened face you pulled back and began feeding her the porridge. At first she was hesitant and it was obvious she didn’t like the food, but she knew she could either let you feed her or starve. So she held back her pride.

< • ◇ • >

It continued like this for some time. The guards insulted her and made things worse, you cared for her and made things better. In the beginning, she was rather dismissive and unwilling towards your efforts, but she got used to it.

Sometimes she ranted to you about the guards, her brother and the Avatar. About anything really. She talked about the revenge she would get, how she had been unfairly betrayed and defeated in an Agni Kai only because of dishonest tactics of her enemies. About how the Avatar was evil and needed to be removed from this world. You knew most of that was probably a lie, but you could not help but believe every single word that escaped her mouth.

Once she had, in a very demanding manner, asked about your name and why you never talked to her, but you had been able to make her understand that you were mute. To your surprise, she was very understanding and even seemed sorry to some degree for asking you so harshly. It was very rare to see emotions like in that moment on her face. Luckily, you had been able to show her your name, even with no paper being available in the Asylum: you had, with much work, formed each letter in the thick porridge you got to eat daily using your spoon. Azula had then started referring to you by your name, which always made you feel butterflies.

Months passed and Azula raged at the guards every day. However, today something was different. When the guards made fun of her she still was angry like always, but when they left she was quieter than usual. She did not start ranting, nor did she ask for her food. She simply sat in her chair motionless, her head lowered.

You got closer to her and lifted her head up. You could tell she did not want you to see her right now as she turned away her face. But as you felt increasingly worried for her, you turned her face to you again and then brushed her hair behind her ears like you had done many times now.

You felt the warmth of her skin, but also your fingertips got wet. You had brushed through tears that were flowing down her cheeks. At first, you were shocked as Azula despised showing any form of weakness, but when you realised what this meant you were more than happy; for the first time since being here, maybe for the first time in her life, she was honest with herself and opened up to someone else, in this case you, about her emotions!

She still was embarrassed to cry in front of you, but you tried to assure her that everything was alright. As you couldn’t take her bound hands you cupped her face with your hands and smiled at her.

“Y/n,”, she said with a very small but incredibly beautiful voice, “please give me a hug.” First you couldn’t believe your luck, but when you carefully sat on her lap and laid your arms around her it felt like paradise, especially being drained of any human affection after years in the Asylum.

“Y/n?”, Azula continued, some confidence building up in her again, “I’m going to get us out of here.” You hugged her more tightly and she answered by resting her head, that was the only body part she could move, against yours, your cheeks touching eachother.

[xfancyuu]

~ & I BET THE THERMOSTAT SAYS 69 [ CHOSO KAMO ]

reader is afab with she/her pronouns. my requests are currently CLOSED throughout the duration october! [707 words]

Choso who is utterly obsessed with you, wondering how he got you to even consider dating him.

Who is nothing but a gentleman until he gets his hands on you and suddenly, he’s a man possessed, the only thing on his mind is you, how you make him feel and how much he loves you.

His days are long, he knows that much, but he also knows his favourite part of the day is coming home to you, no matter the state you’re in, if you’re half asleep or the most lively you’ve ever been, he appreciates both sides.

You were unconscious by the time he came home, the sleep shorts you wore were riding up your ass and the tank top exposing more than you would have liked while conscious.

You were dead to the world, so oblivious to your surroundings, it was easy for Choso to touch you, to feel the warmth radiating from you. He felt no better than his creep uncle Sukuna, eyeing you up while you were in the comfort of your shared bed, he loved looking at you, and the fact you were mostly unclothed was truly a blessing to him.

If he was fast enough, he could probably get off to you laying there but to him it had felt far too long since he’d been within your embrace, since he had touched you and you had done the same to him (even though you had seen him that morning it was far too long for Choso).

He would feel guilty, getting off to you innocently laying there, even his horny mind knew it wasn’t fair to do anything without your consent, but touching himself wasn’t off limits, maybe he’d cum on your ass and be scolded in the morning, he didn’t particularly care about that.

Before he knew it, he was touching himself, stroking his length while sitting on the edge of the bed beside you. Making sure not to awaken you while doing so, his restraint was subsiding as he reached to touch you with his other hand, groans escaping his mouth as he tried to make as little noise as possible in fear of waking you up.

His mouth was upon your skin drinking in the soft flesh as he placed kisses upon you, needing to be close to you, needing to taste you, to have you always close to him. He was shocked you hadn’t woken up by the amount of noise he was making, too enthralled with his own pleasure to notice the soft stirring of your body.

It wasn’t enough to awaken you from your peaceful slumber, but it had made Choso somewhat calm down with his movements, going slower, placing less kisses upon your form and simply choosing to touch you in the places he’d left the kisses upon you.

Out of desperation he had climbed on top of you, ensuring that he didn’t wake you up in the process, removing the tiny shorts you wore from your being and placed the tip on the folds of your vagina.

His movements were slow, thrusting up and down to have your folds around his dick, his tip catching your clit on every thrust, while you remained asleep, moans tumbling out of your mouth.

You were so warm and inviting but Choso wouldn’t push it, he’d make sure you cum, but he wouldn’t enter you, he wouldn’t want to cross that boundary, even if your form was inviting him to do so.

He maintained the same pace, being careful with you, whimpers escaping his lips as he was close to reaching his peak, hips moving frantically, against you, whispering how much he loved you into your ear as you stirred out of the slumber you were entrapped in.

You felt the fluid escape Choso as you woke up, sticky white painting your thighs and recovering from the orgasm you received in your sleepy state.

“Cho what the fuck?” You had asked him pushing him off you, “I know I said I was open to somnophilia but at least give me a warning before you try it out”

To say he was embarrassed would be an understatement, but that didn’t stop him from doing it again.

[oddaesthetin]

drunk, awkward, in love — han hyeongjun

“you’re my dream girl” fluff

—

it was stupid. both of you knew it was stupid, but the two of you also knew nobody would ever attempt to stop you. stupidly weird things like this were simply just your thing. everybody knew that.

hyeongjun had just come back from tour, and you from a family trip. it was an intrusive idea that both of you decided to do anyway—buy different brands of beer from wherever place you two got back from and taste test all of them. it was all his idea, but you weren’t gonna say no, so, really, who cares? gunil.

now, here’s the two of you, drunkenly half-laughing, half-trying to keep the vomit from coming out of your mouths, in your apartment, at exactly 2am. the apartment’s a mess. some throw pillows in the kitchen, a bean bag on the coffee table, the tv playing lovable by kim jongkook, and, for reasons unknown, a printed photo of jooyeon’s face on the wall.

you stopped laughing and immediately sat down as soon as you felt the need to hurl again. hyeongjun, while extremely concerned, is still laughing. with claps and pointy fingers and all that. you did that to him earlier, too, so that’s what you get.

“hanging in there?”

“yes.”

is what you were going to say if you didn’t just gallop your way into the bathroom to barf. the laughing stops, and for a moment, you thought it was just hyeongjun being considerate—until you heard a loud thud. you exit the bathroom after you’re done fixing yourself, only to find your boyfriend lying dead drunk in the middle of your living room. with no spare energy, you quietly walked and lay down next to him, staring at the ceiling for a good five minutes before he was crawling his way over to rest his head on your stomach.

“did you have fun?” he asked quietly.

you hummed and played with his hair. “honestly wouldn’t ask for anything better. i’d do this again, even with the puking part.”

you heard him laugh. “i’m glad. i enjoyed it, too.” though almost soundless, he felt you reply with a hum again. not too long after, he continued. “we should probably clean your place up.”

“wha—? that’s what you’re worried about? i thought you’d be more concerned about the beers we have left.” you pointed to the three unopened beers and chicken leftovers on the floor. “i know i am, i mean, not to sound alcoholic.”

he laughed again, his head shaking on your stomach. “well, i am, too! but i thought you were already drunk.”

“no i’m not. i’m just resting. all the puking got me hungry again,” you said with a hint of defensiveness. “you’re the one i’m worried about. are you sure you don’t have to come to practice tomorrow?”

you felt him shake his head. “it’s rest day.”

then it got quiet. another five minutes was spent staring at the ceiling until you got bored and took a peek at your boyfriend’s face. his eyes are closed, but if it weren’t for the small smile on his lips, you would’ve assumed he fell asleep already.

“what are you thinking? don’t think too deeply. that’s the kind of thing old people do when they’re already drunk. we’re obviously not.” the last statement you said so flatly.

“i was just thinking about how you’re my dream girl.” he said it so casually. too casual, actually, as if he was embarrassed to say it. it didn’t help that he got up too quickly after that and went to the beers. you remained lying down, trying to process what you just heard. it was one of the rare moments where you didn’t know how to play it cool. hyeongjun rarely conveyed his feelings this directly, and now you were torn between reciprocating the thought or changing the topic so he wouldn’t keep feeling embarrassed.

thankfully, you didn’t have to decide.

“you’re so red all over, oh my god,” your boyfriend said, giggling.

you felt the heat rise up to your face once more. you reached for the nearest throw pillow and threw it at him, which he easily caught. “shut up. you caught me off-guard. what was that anyway? i hope you didn’t just say that cause you’re drunk.”

he chuckled, a beer now in his hand. he lied down once again next to you and offered the can he was holding in the other. with you probably too shy to even look at him, you couldn’t see the soft expression his eyes bore.

“i wouldn’t just say it.” with the usual unsure expression gone, he said it softly but surely. “i don’t know…it just felt like something i needed to tell you.”

you playfully kicked one of his feet. “and you decided the perfect time was right after we drank enough to wreck the apartment?”

“well, timing isn’t my strong suit either!”

you both giggled. a second later, you sat up. “i’ve always had a crush on you, too.” you looked at him, resting your chin on your hand. still feeling warmth spreading through your chest, you gave him a smile. “i don’t mind where or when you say it. i like it when you’re random and honest, even if we’re surrounded by chicken bones and vomit… i’d call you perfect, too.”

the two of you laughed again in unison. “ahh, i also appreciate how you make saying these things easy.”

surrounded by the ridiculous chaos of the night, a quiet understanding settled between you. you both had this unspoken connection for so long, filled with small moments of shared laughter, knowing looks, and quiet comfort. but tonight felt a little bit different.

as he watched you fidget with the throw pillow, trying to play off your own reaction, he felt a quiet relief. as per usual, he knew you’d understand him even when he didn’t know how to explain himself.

he glanced over at you again, his gaze softening as he took in the way you rested your chin on your hand, giving him that playful, affectionate smile. he shifted closer, his hand finding yours and giving it a gentle squeeze, as if to say everything he hadn’t yet figured out how to put into words.

the apartment was still a mess, and neither of you was exactly sober, but none of that mattered. here, in this simple, unpolished moment, he felt more certain than he ever had.

loving wasn’t always about grand gestures or perfect timing for the both of you. sometimes, they’re just these messy, awkward, and absolutely stupid moment that makes your relationship perfect. and you thank the stars that both of you had the same understanding of that.

—

© oddaesthetin 2024

[zarnzarn]

Dreamling Bingo E2: Role reversal! Angst and Fluff ahead <3

||

“He, um-” Matthew says from the windowsill, shifting awkwardly. “He says he'll come back as per your previous agreement. Whatever that means.” 

“Yeah, okay,” Hob says faintly into the curve of his arms where he's slumped over the table. He's too numb to feel the heartache. “You can go.” 

“Uh,” Matthew says, with a flap of wings that brings his voice closer. Dream's friend, not Hob's, he has to remind himself, even as his heart pangs as the other doesn't leave. “Did you two… fight? You don't sound good, man.” 

“Yeah, we fought,” Hob says vaguely, staring at the kitchen tap. “I'll be alright.” 

“Buddy, what the fuck, you really don't sound good,” Matthew sounds alarmed. “Look, is there someone we can like, call over for a bit, I don't think you should be alone-” 

“I'm not going to kill myself over a bad breakup, Matt,” Hob sighs. “And no, we can't call anyone. I just made half the faculty watch Professor Rob skid over a cliff and burst into flames.” 

“Dude,” Matthew says after a moment. “That's fucked up. You do realise people are gonna fucking mourn you, right?” 

“Wow, really? Thank you for teaching me, Matthew, I couldn't possibly know this at six hundred years old,” Hob rolls his eyes as he pushes himself to his feet. “And no, I had to fake it, before you ask. Got too attached here, set too many roots down… people would come looking.”

“Like that guy from Megamind,” Matthew offers weakly, and Hob snorts. “But, like. What if the boss comes looking and you're not here?” 

“He'll survive,” Hob packs up the last of his books and kicks the remaining ones under the bed as a fun surprise for the next tenant. “Find another human to amuse himself with, I suppose.” 

“What on earth happened?” Matthew asks, baffled. 

Hob pauses and looks down at his packed box. Shrugs. “I don't know. One minute we were talking, next minute we were arguing and then he… said that-” 

His throat closes up and he shakes his head, grabbing the last backpack. Everything else is sent ahead, except this one bag of essentials and items he can't afford to lose. Eleanor's locket is in there, and Dream's bracelet was supposed to be there too- the only gift he'd ever gotten from the other, the only physical proof that he actually existed- except he threw it in a box in a moment of spite and let it go on with the other things. 

“Dude, uh, listen, I don't know if-” 

“Bye, Matthew.” Hob closes the door and steps out into the night, grabbing his bike as he goes. It probably doesn't warrant all that much of an intricate, convoluted getaway, considering most people don't really go looking for a dead person- but he'll feel better covering his tracks. Especially since he no longer has a mysterious, powerful stranger on his side that he can sort of rely on to eventually come for him. 

Hah. On the bright side, though. 

He's always wanted to try lycanthropy. 

-

He smells the newcomer before he hears him. 

The wolf’s ears prick up, turning to stare out at the night sky, lit up by the stars. He breathes in the scent on the wind to be sure, then springs out the den, breath misting in the cold winter air. 

The newcomer is loping around aimlessly, looking droll and tired as he trots by the riverbank, looking this way and that. Whatever he's searching for, he won't find it- not this late in the season, when everything's asleep or dead. 

Still. It's his territory, so the wolf jumps out of the bushes with a growl and charges. 

The strange dark wolf doesn't yelp or scramble away at the aggression like he'd expected, instead freezing in shock, making him crash full force into the intruder and sending them both to the ground. 

The intruder still doesn't run when he's down and incapacitated, just lies there and stares up stupidly. The wolf bares his teeth, growling, and that seems to finally get some reaction, a hint of a tail going between his legs, ears going back in fear. 

Good. He's the bigger wolf amongst the two of them, the other should- 

Hob Gadling. 

He stops, ears pricked up as he scans around for another creature. Feels his own ears go back in unease when no one else is there, only the odd stranger, staring at him silently. 

He snaps his teeth, unsettled, and finally the stranger reacts like he should, scrambling out of his way as he chases him off, growling and snarling all the while. 

He stops when he reaches the edge of his territory, chest heaving. The black wolf is still there, slinking between the trees, staring at him. 

Good enough. He doesn't have energy to waste. The wolf trots back to his den and goes back to sleep. 

AO3

[livingformintyoongi]

Under The Shadows | Kim Taehyung

a/n: Hello again, I'm uploading part two of this mini-series I made where I upload fragments of silly things I wrote in the wee hours of the morning dead asleep and hungry :)) Warnings: Royalty!au, character death (non-main character), fantasy!au.

"Your Highness, we must go," Jiwon whispered. It was deep into the night, probably past three in the morning. The hallways were covered in a terrifying darkness that not even the moonlight could ease, failing to calm the erratic pounding of your heart.

"Jiwon? What’s going on?" You matched her tone, allowing her to guide you through the long corridors of the castle at her will. There was a lot of noise coming from outside and, if your ears weren’t deceiving you, a few creaks could be heard within the palace as well. "Why is there—"

A lump formed in your throat at the sight of one of the castle guards lying motionless on the floor before you. His body was completely still, his face twisted in pure agony, frozen in the moment he had drawn his last breath. You nearly vomited your dinner upon seeing his shattered jaw and his own sword buried deep into his right eye.

"Shit, they're getting closer," Jiwon growled under her breath, tightening her grip on your hand as she rushed toward the side staircases. Your gaze remained locked on the knight's corpse until his bloodstained face and the pool of crimson surrounding him faded from view.

The usual drowsiness that came with being abruptly awakened in the middle of the night vanished instantly. Your mind was racing from zero to a hundred, trying to piece together what was happening, yet failing to form a clear conclusion. You glanced at Jiwon, noticing she didn't look much better than you. She was still in her nightclothes, her hair disheveled, and she wasn’t carrying her signature sword. She didn’t even seem fully awake—certainly not enough to give her all if an enemy were to confront you. You began to wonder if escaping with your lives was even possible.

"This way," she whispered, leading you into one of the castle’s hidden passageways. She grabbed a torch from the wall to light the way. You felt a small sense of relief, believing no one would be able to follow you here.

"Jiwon, what is all this? Why was that guard like that?" Though you knew this wasn’t the time for questions, you couldn’t stop yourself from wanting to understand what the hell was going on. Then, suddenly, your entire body froze as a single thought struck you. Your parents. "M-My father, my mother… they must be in danger too. W-We should go to them, we have to help them escape and—"

"Your Highness!" Jiwon came to an abrupt stop, spinning around to face you. Her hands clamped firmly onto your shoulders, her gaze sharper than ever. You immediately shrank back. You rarely saw her this angry—especially not at you. "We can't go running around the castle searching for the King and Queen. My duty is to give my life for yours, not theirs. And if I have to let this entire castle burn with them inside just to get you out alive, then I will."

You pressed your lips together, your eyes stinging with unshed tears. You knew she was right, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. Taking a deep breath, you forced down the lump forming in your throat. Your parents had plenty of guards protecting them. Nothing bad should happen to them. They had to be safe.

"We have to go. If anyone sees us…" Jiwon trailed off, glancing around cautiously, searching for any sign of the Goguryeo army. Their black uniforms, embroidered with golden threads, perfectly embodied the essence of the two sons of King Kim: the gleaming, elegant, and refined stitches representing the eldest son, Kim Seokjin, and the resilient, lightweight fabric, as dark as the night itself, symbolizing the younger son, Kim Taehyung. You had always wanted to meet them in person, but never—not even in your worst nightmares—had you imagined that your first time seeing them would be in the central square of your kingdom, each standing at opposite corners of the platform that held the guillotine, the very one set to sever your parents' heads at the chime of noon.

Watching your parents die at the hands of the two most powerful men in existence—the very same ones you had admired all your life—was something you could only describe as torture. And yet, you couldn't leave. You needed to see it. You needed to know if this was truly happening. You needed to believe, even if just for a second, that your parents would find a way out. You held onto the hope that if they just talked things through a little longer, they could reach a different outcome—one that didn’t end in ruin, one that didn’t leave your people without a ruler.

The pressure in your chest grew as you watched your parents ascend the platform, their heads held high as always. They looked dirty, wounded, and weak, yet their pride remained unwavering in their gazes. You clasped your hands together near your lips, silently praying that they would beg for mercy—that for once in their lives, they would yield.

But they didn’t.

They didn’t when your mother’s head was placed between the bloodstained planks. They didn’t when their own people screamed at them, throwing insults and garbage in their faces. Your father didn’t when he watched his wife’s head roll onto the floor. And he certainly didn’t when it was his own head being placed beneath the blade, preparing to receive the final blow.

Your hands fell to your sides, your lower lip trembling so violently that you had to bite down to keep from sobbing. The man holding the rope that kept the blade suspended readied himself to release it. It was only then that your eyes drifted to the younger prince.

His gaze—dark as the night—was already fixed on you.

Every muscle in your body tensed as you realized he was aware of your presence, that he had never once broken eye contact, as if he knew exactly who you were.

"We need to leave, Your Highness," Jiwon murmured into your ear, covering your eyes and wrapping her arm around your shoulders to guide you away.

Despite the deafening cheers of the crowd, the relentless sound of unfamiliar, jubilant music, nothing could shake the image of the prince from your mind—the possibility that he had recognized you gnawed at your insides. It was impossible, you told yourself, knowing that in your twenty years of life, you had never stepped foot outside the tower. No one had ever entered your chambers besides your parents and Jiwon, after all.

You wanted to ask Jiwon, to share your unease, to know if she was aware of something—anything—that you didn’t. But you also knew she was experienced in these matters. She knew what she was doing. She was observant, intelligent. If you had noticed it, she had too. And if she remained silent about the situation, then it was because knowing too much was dangerous.

She wanted what was best for you. And if staying silent and following her instructions was the best course of action right now, then that was exactly what you would do.

[theamberfist]

Good evening my dear! I positively adore your writing! Especially 'Leave it all on the dancefloor' I LOVE HOW YOU DID ALASTOR'S DYNAMICS WITH THE READER HESHGDEG I WANNA PUT THEM IN MY POCKET I LOVE FRIENDSHIP!

Anywho, I was wondering since your requests are open if you'd write a platonic Susan fic? Like Susan and grandchild reader where the grandchild prevents Susan from being, well Susan to everyone else? Maybe some wholesome bonding moments? If you're okay with writing it!

- Radioisntdead 📻

❀ AHHHHH I'm so honored that you like my writing!!!! Of course I'd be happy to write for grandma Susan!!! She doesn't tend to get a lot of content at all tbh but this sparked inspiration for me so there will be more! Thank you SO much for the request I hope you enjoy!!! ❀

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The Susan Whisperer | Grandma Susan + Reader

Familial! Grandma Susan + Grandchild Reader

Description: After waking up in hell, you end up finding Cannibal Town, a peculiar little territory that also just so happens to be the home of your long-dead grandmother, whom everyone is happy to now make you responsible for.

(Notes: CW cannibalism, death) (gender neutral reader) (Reader is Susan's grandchild from when she was alive)

Words: 2,125

When you opened your eyes, you were surprised to find that you weren't in your bedroom anymore, as you'd expected. Not only that, but the place smelled...Well, horrible. 

Sitting up and looking around, it didn't take long for you to realize you weren't on Earth anymore. Or at least, not a version of it you'd ever seen. Everyone looked different and there was so much red. It was also horrendously hot, but no one around you seemed bothered; as if they were used to the insane temperature. 

Trying to remain calm, you stood up and went over to the friendliest looking creature, giving her a careful smile. "Hi, could you tell me where I am?" You asked. She looked you up and down before giving you a shrug. 

"Hell."

At first you thought it was a joke. But as she walked away and you looked around some more, you realized there wasn't really another explanation that made sense. The creatures around you were so...Casually horrible? You had to dodge bullets left and right as you walked down the street, and at one point you even ran into a couple of them down on their knees as they literally ate a person.

Shying away from the horrid sight, you continued walking around aimlessly. You supposed you'd died, though you weren't sure how. One moment you'd been asleep in your bed, and now you found yourself facing eternal damnation, for whatever reason. You didn't even know what you'd done to deserve it. 

As you passed by a clothing store, you paused at the sight of your reflection in the glass window beside you. You almost didn't recognize the version of you staring back. Your eyes were completely black and when you smiled, you had teeth so sharp they probably could have cut through bone if needed. 

At some point, the shock you felt turned into muted concern as you continued walking. What else were you supposed to do? You didn't know if there were any rules or paperwork new arrivals in hell had to complete, but considering it was hell, you assumed not. 

You weren't sure where you were going or what your plan was, but you couldn't stand to remain still. Walking had always cleared your mind before, and you used to take walks with your grandmother all the time before she died. Granted, going out with her was always a hassle due to her rude manners and loud opinions, but you still appreciated the companionship. 

Thinking of your grandmother made your smile drop a bit. After her death, you hadn't had a lot of people in your life that had cared about you; not that she showed her love in very conventional ways, as it was. You hoped she'd ended up in a better place than you did, but something at the back of your mind told you she probably hadn't. 

Eventually, you wandered into a cute little area of the city that you didn't know the name of. It was significantly cleaner than the rest of hell, which you could appreciate. And as you walked around, you realized many of the residents seemed to closely resemble you with their black eyes and sharp smiles. 

...What a coincidence. 

You turned your gaze towards what seemed to be the center of the little town now, where a small crowd had gathered, many of them shouting or calling out to someone in the middle. Curious, you approached the group.

"Rosie said we're not supposed to eat the new residents!" Someone called in a worried tone. In the middle of the group, a woman with what looked like a dead wolf resting around her shoulders scowled in their direction. 

"I'll eat whoever the fuck I want!" She replied, crossing her arms and then turning to the...demon, you supposed? That was cowering on the ground. "And it ain't like any of you are gonna stop me, are ya?" No one spoke so the old woman nodded before turning back to the smaller demon and barring her teeth. "That's what I fucking thought." 

You were struck with a sense of familiarity as you gazed at the old woman. It was almost like the two of you had met before; her voice sounded like you should have recognized it. But you'd never been in hell before today, so unless you'd become acquainted with her during life...

Oh no, you thought to yourself, taking a step forward and clearing your throat. 

"...Grandmother?" You asked carefully, making everyone in the area freeze. The old woman, who was inches away from biting into the arm of the small sinner beneath her, turned with a frown. 

"Huh?" She asked, looking around the crowd that still surrounded her, "Who said that?" Her tone was accusatory, and within seconds, the group near you had parted, leaving you exposed to her harsh gaze. You glanced at them sheepishly, feeling as if you'd just been thrown under a bus.

Once her gaze landed on you, she called her name as if she hadn't said the word in years. And, considering she'd been dead for that long, you supposed she probably hadn't. "That you, kid?" She asked, squinting her eyes as if she couldn't see you, even though she was wearing her glasses. 

"Yeah, it's me." You replied sheepishly. "Good to see you, Grandma Susan." In the blink of an eye, the old woman had abandoned the demon she'd been trying to make into her lunch and was standing in front of you, inspecting you and your clothes as if she were the judge of an important contest. You stiffened as she walked a full circle around you, humming as she took in the outfit you'd appeared in hell wearing. It wasn't too different from what you might have worn in life, and she seemed to approve because she stopped in front of you with a curt nod. 

"It is you." She decided at last, "You're taller than I remember, though; look how much you've grown." You chuckled before she turned to the rest of the crowd; all of whom were still standing around watching the two of you. 

Looking back, you noticed a tall woman whose features looked almost like a skeleton coming your way, accompanied by another, similar looking demon. "Not again," she was saying quietly to the demon beside her. She wore a big red hat decorated with black feathers and a worried expression on her face, meaning she probably held some sort of responsibility among the crowd of people around you. Meanwhile, Susan spoke, diverting your attention back to her.

"Listen up, all of you!" She shouted to the rest of the demons, "This here is my grandkid, alright?" You almost wanted to cover your ears from her volume. "So I better not catch any of ya tryin' to bite into them or I'll make you my next meal, got it?!" You weren't sure whether to be touched or afraid by her words, but it was now that the woman in the red hat reached the two of you. 

"Grandchild?" She repeated in surprise as she walked up next to you. Meeting her eyes, you gave her a sheepish smile. "You're Susan's grandchild?" 

"Y-yeah..." You admitted as the old woman continued going around the circle of demons and tossing out threats like they were candy. None of them seemed particularly afraid, though; only respectfully nodding at her words. "Sorry..." It was a habit you'd picked up in life whenever you brought your grandmother in public, and you supposed you'd be apologizing on her behalf a lot more in the future.

The woman in the red hat only smiled, though, as recognition finally appeared in her eyes. "Ohhh, don't apologize, dear!" She exclaimed, waving a hand dismissively, "We're used to your grandmother around here, and between you and me, a lot of the cannibals really respect her." You stiffened at the word. Had Susan been a cannibal your whole life, and you hadn't known? "In fact, it'll be nice to have someone else around that can handle her," the woman went on and you swallowed, realizing what you'd just gotten yourself into.

She later introduced herself as Rosie, the overlord of Cannibal Town, which you realized was the name of this area of hell. 

Rosie explained that your grandmother was one of her...Most active citizens. Once you got over the whole everyone-being-cannibals thing, you realized they were actually very pleasant; a stark contrast to the demeanor put on by your grandma herself. Rosie invited you to stay in her territory almost immediately, eager to have another person around that could be responsible for handling Susan, and since you literally had no other option, you agreed.

Rosie offered you a place to stay not far from your grandmother's home, but Susan wouldn't have it. She insisted that you live with her since your parents had 'kept you away from her' by living so far (a three minute walk) away in life. 

Despite insisting that you live in her home, though, Susan routinely complained about your lack of assistance with the household chores. From cooking to cleaning to laundry, it seemed you didn't do nearly enough to take the burden off her shoulders; never mind that she'd verbally-and-adamantly forbidden you from helping with any of those tasks since day one. 

She tried to turn you over to cannibalism, too, complaining about how annoying it was to prepare two separate meals all the time to suit your needs. Though, with how much she enjoyed cooking, and the fact that she always talked about non-cannibal dishes she could potentially make you, you were getting mixed signals. 

It quickly became apparent that there were only two people Susan ever gave the time of day; Rosie and you. So whenever Rosie was busy- which was often, considering she ran all of Cannibal Town- you were in charge of making sure your grandmother didn't terrorize too many people. And thus, you came to be considered a sort of 'Susan Whisperer.'

It was a full-time job, and you often found yourself profusely apologizing to everyone for her rudeness as you walked arm-in-arm with her down the street. The other cannibals never seemed to mind, but that didn't mean you wouldn't at least try to get her to be kinder. 

When Alastor first started coming around Cannibal Town, Susan only got worse. She would often change the route of your daily walks specifically so she could go past him and make a rude comment that often had the Radio Demon ready to murder her on the spot. 

"I'm so sorry," you would always tell him, "Grandma and I are working on that." Then you'd turn to Susan and pull her along, getting her out of the situation before she could make him want to kill her even more. 

But despite her abrasive nature, your grandmother truly did care for you. She was always cooking food she knew you would enjoy and bringing it to you at random times of the day; whether you were dead asleep, walking beside her, or chatting with Rosie over tea. She had her own ways of showing affection, and that was one of them.

She was also surprisingly protective. One time, a cannibal sinner that had died around the same time as you had invited you to lunch in your grandmother's presence and she'd turned around and bit his hand off before shouting that you 'already had plans with your family then.' He never went near you after that, and in fact, most of the cannibals were much more careful in your presence from that day on. 

You knew from the moment Charlie arrived in town with Alastor that things were going to go south very fast. And when Susan wouldn't even let the princess of hell get a word in before she started heckling, you wanted to melt into the floor out of embarrassment.

"Grandma, maybe we should listen to what she has to say," You whispered, only to be ignored by the old woman, who continued talking over Charlie. Thus began a three-way conversation that really just consisted of Charlie trying to pitch her hotel, Susan doing anything but listening to her, and you trying to get your grandmother to stop being so rude to such an important figure in hell. 

So when Charlie finally had her outburst, you really couldn't blame her, bringing a hand up to rub your temples as you wondered what you'd done to deserve this. 

In the end though, you were what ended up getting Susan onboard with Charlie's plan. Not because you convinced her; you didn't think the old woman was capable of having her opinion changed by anyone, no matter who they were. But the angels' exterminations didn't leave Cannibal Town any more untouched than the rest of hell; meaning they put you in danger too. 

And as prickly as Susan was, she'd tear apart the flesh of anyone that dared to hurt her grandchild, so of course she took the chance to eat a few angels, especially if it meant protecting you.

[cursedbycain]

cathedral - Cain x Lane

tagging: @rc-catalog

synopsis: After deciding to explore a cathedral, Lane meets a man she’ll never forget

tw: religious imagery, gun mention, rated T

wc: 1.5k

She waves at Audrey as the cab pulls away from the strange mansion her friend resides in. It had been an interesting conversation, albeit very unexpected. Lane couldn’t imagine where Audrey had gotten an image of such an intriguing text. Yet, it called to her. She couldn’t help but yearn for more images to decipher the rest of the unknown puzzle.

Letting a heavy sigh pass her lips, she stares out the window and takes in the view. The drive from her London hotel had been long and riddled with winding countryside, quiet towns, and time to think.

An hour and a half into the nearly three hour trip, the cab drives through the outskirts of Oxford. Half asleep, Lane feels a sudden tug of curiosity as a large cathedral comes into view.

“Excuse me, could you pull over?” The driver does as asked, watching as she stands from the car.

It looks almost abandoned, dead silent with no one else around. She pulls cash out of her wallet and hands it to the driver. Reluctantly, he takes it, as if he isn’t sure he should leave her here. But Lane has already begun walking towards the cathedral.

When she steps inside, she realizes that it is not abandoned.

There’s music.

It’s the most hauntingly beautiful music she’s ever heard. Beethoven couldn’t have written a better melody. She glances around but the source of the music remains unknown. It’s only when she takes a few steps closer to the altar does the music cease.

“Can I help you?” The deep voice that comes from behind her nearly causes her to jump out of her skin. Turning around, she’s met with the most beautiful man she’s ever seen in her entire life.

Lane feels stuck the moment she sees him. He stood tall in the center of the room, dressed in black priests robes that fell like liquid shadow. His silver hair gleamed under the low light, a stark contrast to the darkness he seemed to carry so effortlessly. There was something unsettling in the way he looked at her, sharp steel blue eyes, amused and knowing, like he could see through her with a single glance. Seemingly sensing that she can’t seem to find a single word in her head, he speaks again.

His voice is smooth, almost teasing, as he asks, “Nervous? Do you want to confess to some sins?” The words hung in the air, thick and heavy.

Lane doesn’t know what unsettles her more, the question, or the strange, magnetic pull behind it.

“No…no I just…was curious.” She manages to force out. He raises an eyebrow, a slightly amused smile still gracing his face.

“Did you expect this cathedral to be any different from the others?” There’s a hint of mocking in his tone.

“No. I was just passing by.” She shrugs, refusing to show how unsettled she is by his gaze.

“Would you like a tour?” He offers as if it’s merely a pleasantry he knows she’ll refuse. He’s clearly surprised when she nods, and he looks almost pleased.

“That would be nice. Thank you, father.” He looks oddly young to be a priest but she doesn’t judge. He shakes his head, pinning her with another smirk.

“No need for that. You can just call me Cain.” She can’t help but find the irony in a man named after the first murderer becoming a priest.

“Cain? Should I expect Abel too?” The comment slips out, a lighthearted joke that he’d probably heard before. But something flashes in his eyes. Something almost sinister that makes the hair on the back of her neck stand up and scream DANGER.

“…No.” There’s no humour in his voice and the odd feeling doesn’t leave her gut.

Then, it passes, and he smiles at her once again. As disarmingly handsome as he is, it’s not a comforting smile. It’s one of amused curiosity, as if Lane is a shiny toy he hasn’t decided whether to play with or destroy.

“Follow me.” He turns and begins to walk away from the altar. Realizing the tour has begun, she follows him curiously.

He stops in front of a large pane of stained glass, gesturing to it.

“This is the Bishop King window.” His voice drips with boredom, as if this is the most mundane window in the world. But the colours and detail are fascinating to Lane and she takes a step closer to admire it.

“It’s gorgeous.” She doesn’t hide the awe in her voice. She catches a glimpse of the intrigued look on Cain’s face before she diverts her eyes.

“I suppose. It dates back to the 1630’s.” He steps just slightly closer, enough to make her tense at the proximity. He was handsome, that was obvious, but he was also a priest.

She repeats the phrase ‘He’s a priest’ over and over to herself as he leads her to another piece of stained glass, once again barely telling her any details.

“This isn’t a very informative tour.” She smiles and he raises an eyebrow.

“I could bore you with the details and story of every pane of glass in here if you would find that more appealing?” His phrasing makes it clear that answering in the affirmative is not an option.

“No, it’s alright. Do you mind if I just…look around?” He nods and swiftly walks away. Slightly put off by his quick disappearance, Lane walks over to the main area of the cathedral, passing the long rows of pews.

She nearly jumps out of her skin when the sounds of the piano begin again. This time, it’s slightly more comforting to be aware of his presence.

Stepping towards the altar, she gets closer than would probably be allowed. But, Cain isn’t around to reprimand her so she does it anyways.

Lane stares for a while. Sitting down at the closest pew, she admires every detail. Enraptured, she doesn’t notice when the piano ceases. It’s only the gentle hand on her shoulder that jolts her out of her stupor.

“It will be dark soon. You should be heading home.” There’s no room for argument in his tone, not that she would argue. When she stands to face him, she could swear there’s a flash of red in his eyes. But she blinks and it disappears. Perhaps the light of the stained glass had been playing tricks.

“Thank you, for the tour.” She’s oddly urged to talk to him more, a faint pull in her stomach like there’s something about this man that’s important. But the sun is setting and she really is quite tired.

“You’re welcome.” Once again, his small smirk is mocking. But there’s something else in his eyes she can’t quite read.

He bids her goodnight as she steps out of the cathedral. When she turns to catch one last glimpse of him, he’s already gone.

The angel in front of her looks oddly familiar. Something tugs at her, a feeling of recognition. It’s only when she tunes out the wings does it come to her. A cathedral just on the outside of Oxford. A haunting melody. A man that she had spent weeks wondering about. The name comes easily to her. It had been a peculiar name for a priest.

“Cain?” Multiple emotions flash on his face before settling on his seemingly genuine shock. He’s about to speak when one of the creatures lunges for her and he’s forced to soar into the air. She watches with wide eyes as he fights them off, no longer the mocking priest she had met all that time ago.

When the creature drops dead in front of her, the man with a gun fixes her with a piercing look that makes her shrink.

“How do you know him?” He barks and she’s suddenly overcome with the feeling she has misspoken. He sighs in annoyance and raises his gun to her temple.

The world goes black.

Dmitry only has her halfway off the ground when Cain lands silently next to him, covered in spawn blood.

“I’ll carry her.” He offers, already beginning to take her into his arms.

“You need to patrol the sky.” Dmitry is reluctant to let the woman go into Cain’s care, but the immortal doesn’t leave room for argument.

“Pileon has eyes.” He remarks, carefully holding her. The frown and light touch at the mark on her temple doesn’t go unnoticed by the General.

“Do you want to explain or should I wait to interrogate her?” The irritation in the immortals eyes is painfully clear behind his red irises as his wings bristle.

He doesn’t answer, just adjusts his grip and soars into the air. Dmitry watches for a moment before turning away.

They were all in trouble now.

[swanimagines]

BOUND IN DARKNESS | NIKOLAI LANTSOV

Summary: You and Nikolai see nightmares about the Darkling every night - making your duties as the King and Queen of Ravka hard. But you both know you have to push through.

Darkling was dead, yet the damage he had left remained.

Just one night of peaceful sleep was unreachable, and hoping for it was futile. You and Nikolai both woke up at some point every night to the image of the Darkling plaguing your dreams. You held each other then, shaking slightly, trying to rest just little longer so your tiredness wouldn’t show as much. Genya helped you hide your eyebags, before you dressed up and were going in front of people once again, putting on your brave face and trying to act like nothing was happening, you weren’t damaged. You needed to show that Ravka was strong, that their King and Queen would thrive and show them how to be strong again. Ravka could and would be rebuilt. Your people would be able to recover, and the Kingdom would become whole again.

The court alkemi had made you a potion that basically prevented your brains from total exhaustion, as it would have been dangerous on the long run - usually this severe nightmares were treated by resting and taking it easy, but you didn’t have that option if you didn’t want to look like weak rulers. Vulnerability was also an important part to show if you wanted your people to feel closer to you, but time for that wasn’t now. So the vials were vital for your survival during this time, and you rewarded the alkemi handsomely for making the potion for you. But he, too, reminded you that it isn’t a miracle potion you could consume for very long. Its side effects would begin coming after a week, and after that they’d become more and more severe with every vial you’d consume and eventually those could end up killing you.

So you had to avoid using those too - gulping them down only if you felt like you wouldn’t get through the day without it. It didn’t mean days without it were easy though. One of those moments were now, you and Nikolai having a meeting with your advisors. The chair you sat on started feeling impossibly comfy, the words your advisors spoke to you blended together, they echoed in the room as you slowly felt your body falling asleep.

“Moya tsaritsa, are you alright?” your advisor asked, snapping you out from your stupor and you cleared your throat, nodding and blinking rapidly.

“Yes, I just need some water,” you croaked out, feeling Nikolai’s hand grasp yours and you squeezed it back. Your maid came over in a few moments, handing you a glass of water and you smiled at her softly before taking a sip from your glass.

The water brought a welcomed burst of energy as it made its way down your throat, and you put the glass down, nodding for the advisor to continue. You knew you had a duty at hand, and it couldn’t wait - you had to push through whatever it needed.

Nikolai squeezed your hand lightly again and you shared a brief look, and you could see weariness plaguing him too. But he was better in hiding it. At that moment, you wished you had been raised as a royal, they had training even on how to stay composed and remain alert even when exhausted like this - probably because during wars, rest wasn’t an option.

You tried your best to follow the example of your husband, listening to the proposals and checking through documents, occasionally interjecting the discussions with questions, but it wasn’t long before their voices began to blend into a constant hum again, and you couldn’t really hear what they said. You just saw their lips moving and hands gesturing, but you no longer heard what they said.

Nikolai seemingly sensed your struggle and nudged your leg with his own under the table, an unspoken reminder to remain alert. You straightened your posture again, and the advisor paused again for a moment, but then continued as you were following along again. You used all your willpower to stay alert and reminded yourself that this was the only way so you would get to rest sooner today - how you would get to rest for days. Once this was over, you wouldn’t have to sit here listening to plans and trying to act like everything was okay.

When the sun started to set and the advisors finally left to their own quarters, you were letting out a sigh of relief, knowing that now you would be able to rest - even if it meant you would see your loved ones being cut in half again. You had to try to rest. Seeing nightmares and crying in Nikolai’s arms was better than sleeping while you were expected to listen.

You stood up, with Nikolai supporting you by the waist and you walked to your bed chambers together and immediately after you had taken off your jewelry, you were falling onto the bed together, wishing to be able to take even a nap before dinner without nightmares. Nikolai spooned you, his other arm wrapped tightly around your waist while his other hand grasped your hand above your head on the pillow.

As children, you both had heard the story that sleeping while touching a friend or a loved one guarantees no nightmares. It hadn’t worked til now, and you knew it wouldn’t work this time either - but it was still more comforting to wake up and notice you’re safe, with Nikolai holding you - and for him, to see you alive and breathing in his arms.

It wasn’t a situation you wanted to find yourself from when you married Nikolai while he was still Sturmhond, but the sense of duty this situation had forged into you was something you knew you should follow. For the people of Ravka, if not else. They needed to see they were safe now - they had a strong King, a strong Queen, ones who cared for them.

So you night after night, you had to try to rest. To wake up, hold each other, listen to each other, comfort each other, try to fall asleep again. Something good in the middle of this darkness, you needed to remind yourselves what was worth fighting for. Darkling was dead, for good this time. His shadow monsters weren’t attacking people anymore, things were better than in ages. Uniting Ravka was a task not any ruler would be able to accomplish, but you knew that with Nikolai, you would do it. 

You let your eyes droop closed, keeping this in mind, telling yourself that some dead shadow man wasn’t going to drag you two down. You would beat this. Together.

Requests are always open! FANDOM LIST | PROMPT LIST(S) | RULES (READ!!!)

[nomoreusername]

My Glue

Pairing: Newt x female reader

Summary: When your brother is killed in the maze Newt is still by your side to support you.

Being a Runner was practically what I was meant to do. Since I first showed up and laid my eyes on the maze I wanted to go in. Being a girl wouldn't stop me from that. That part's extremely relevant to mention because I just so happen to be the only girl here. Of course, just like everything in this place there are a few other details that make it different.

When I came up in the box I had a faint memory of some of their faces. I even knew a few names before they were told. That's probably how I figured out tho my brother was here. While a few Glader's were suspicious of me, which I guess isn't the most uncalled for, when they saw that we're basically the spitting image of each other it sort of became accepted.

We were close. He was my best friend and one of the most important people in my life.

That changed though. The day started out normal. I woke up, had breakfast, got packed for the day, said goodbye to Newt, and was off. That's how it should have remained. Nothing about that was supposed to be different.

On that day though everything was. I left the maze on time along with every other Runner.

He didn't though. Now he's dead, and I'm in the Glade barely holding it together. Of course, there isn't a lot of time for people to notice that I'm breaking. I barely even can because I am always doing something. I'm always running or trying to make myself better. If I can't then I'm asleep.

It's always there though. In the back of my mind the feelings will forever taunt me. I don't even know what to call it. I just know it makes me want to lay on the ground and never get up.

It's Greenie night now, and instead of being with the people that care about me I'm hiding in the Deadheads. Even though I safely could and want to I don't have the energy to cry.

As I laid there and stared at the tops of the trees I heard footsteps. Realistically I knew I should move. I know that I physically can. At the same time I also can't. There's this weight on my body that's forcing me to stay on the ground.

"Hey love,"Newt greeted, stepping towards me. I turned to look at him. He wore a small smile that almost gave me this bittersweet feeling. Despite it being so dark here I could still see the way it shine brighter than any star ever could. Usually, that would be all I needed to get through the day. Making him laugh just so I could see it used to be at the top of my to-do list.

Nothing is now though because there isn't one. As long as I run in the maze that took my sibling from me then nothing matters.

"Do you wanna talk about it?"He offered, taking a seat next to me.

"No,"I admitted.

"Okay. Do you want to talk about anything?"He asked in that same voice that's smooth as honey and causes me to go weak in the knees. That was different now too though. He always sounded softer and just a little quieter.

"No,"I repeated.

"Okay love. That's fine,"He said, putting a hand on my shoulder. I laid my head on his lap and tried not to think about anything that exists, did exist, or even might. I didn't want to think about anything right now. I'm a way I don't think I was. Physically, I'm right here. Mentally, I'm a thousand miles away.

"Do you know what you do need right now?"He asked, now gently running his hand through my hair. I took a minute to try and think, but nothing came to mind.

Thankfully, he knew me well enough to know what my silence meant because he assured me that I didn't have to answer or even talk.

"Thank you,"I whispered.

"Of course. I'm right here Y/N. No matter what,"He promised.

I knew that I had to believe him. He was the glue that kept me together. Whether that included smiling until my cheeks hurt and laughing until my ribs were sore, or just being the reason I kept going, he was the reason for it.

Newt means everything to me so all I can do is be grateful he's here. I don't think I could handle losing him too.

[thewritergremlin-rae]

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Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader Rating: T Words: 564 Content: 2nd person, fluff, a tiny dash of angst, cuddles Summary: Steve returns from a long, unsuccessful mission searching for Bucky.

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It had been another months-long chase of whispers and rumours but, like every time before, Steve returned empty handed.

No solid proof of Bucky, no glimpses, no certainty that the chatter was ever true, or if Bucky was even still out there.

You knew Steve was coming back today but the sky had turned black and inky by the time he entered your rooms. He toed off his boots and socks at the entranceway and it hurt to watch those broad shoulders slump in defeat, in remorse.

“Hey,” you greeted softly.

“Hey,” Steve whispered back, forcing a smile to his lips that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “We didn’t…”

“I know.” How could you not? You took his hands and wrapped his arms around your waist, coaxing his head down onto your shoulder. “I know,” you repeated, running your hand through his hair and down to the base of his neck.

He squeezed you in response. A silent thank you communicated in a simple movement.

You pressed a kiss to his temple and just swayed gently as he breathed you in, as he grounded himself in being home. You felt him breathe deeply, pressing an open mouthed kiss to your neck that made you shudder, but you didn’t push it. “Go take a shower, Steve, it’ll help you relax, yeah?”

“Yeah,” he mumbled back, planting a kiss on your cheek and leaving, with a final squeeze, for the bathroom.

You were settled in bed in your comfiest pyjamas when he came through in a pair of sweats, hair dry and fluffy from the hair dryer.

You pulled him down on top of you, hushing his grumbling about his weight and height as you all but dragged him into you.

You tucked his head under your chin, placing a kiss on his temple before your fingers rhythmically slid through his hair.

Steve held himself stiff, not wanting to totally let go of himself, but your touches slowly coaxed him closer to relaxation and to giving in to you.

“You always look after us, let me look after you, for once. It would make me feel better.” It’s the final nail in the coffin of Steve’s stubbornness and you find yourself finally pinned by his weight.

It wasn’t crushing, he felt a lot like a very warm, weighted blanket and if you hadn’t been so focused on Steve you could have probably fallen asleep like that. But you kept up the gentle touches, every so often pressing soft kisses to his forehead.

“I just…” Steve sighed heavily. “I don’t even know if he’s ok.” His words remained quiet and forlorn. You dropped a hand to his shoulders, rubbing in slow, soft circles.

You nodded, nuzzling into his hair. “I think it’s more likely we’d hear if he wasn’t.” It was a lot easier to identify a dead man than a live one. “You’ll find him when he’s ready.”

He sighed again but you felt the corner of his mouth twitch. “S’what I get for making Buck come to my rescue all the time.”

You chuckled and ruffled his hair softly. “Karma’s a bitch, Stevie.”

He huffed a laugh and pressed a kiss where his head lay. “I missed you,” he added in a whisper.

“I missed you too. Welcome home, love.”

Steve hummed, eyelashes settling against his cheeks as he breathed out slowly. “Thanks, doll.”

Want to be tagged in future parts or future Steve fic? Go here

[falling-star-cygnus]

I need Billy comfort after the one where he got trapped under a building, can you please make him be saved?

well since you asked so nicely, how could i refuse?

continuation of this fic‼️ you don’t have to read it, of course, but it will make this whole thing make more sense :D @starguardianniom [your request is on the way, i just thought you might also like to be tagged in the part two :D]

without further ado~

"BILLY!"

She doesn't know which one of them screams it, maybe it was all three, but Anby lunges for the android's jacket- lunges really for any part of him she might be able to grab- until her hands close on red leather. The inevitable weight of his metal body doesn't cross her mind until she's being tugged down with him.

The feeble floor cracks further under Anby’s feet as she digs her heels in. That damned, annoying Ethereal shrieks- probably much louder than what she can hear through her headphones- and stomps like a spoiled child being told no for the first time. She'll put it out of it’s misery once she gets Billy- too still, too unresponsive- back onto safer ground.

Only ...Anby never gets the chance.

The ground jumps under her feet, and the tight grip she had on his jacket futzs.

Billy falls.

Hands and arms wrap around her waist before she can do something stupid like leap down after him. An action she knows is irrational but all she can hear is the way the android hits each level of the building and she needs to get him back-

"ANBY-! WE NEED TO GO."

Of course. Right. Clarity washes over her like cold water; Anby can't save Billy if she's dead too. And he would just feel bad if she got hurt trying to save him, because he had no regard for himself-

The remaining members of the Cunning Hares' fumble out of building just in time to see it topple like a house of cards- with their former client pinned in front of them by a slab of concrete.

It flails a little bit- kinda like a bug does when you grab it's leg- and they're privy to a front row seat as a metal support beam crashes into the weird orb of it's head. The thing splatters like a paintball.

None of them feel much remorse.

A few seconds of silence go by, passed by the girls simply.. staring.

"Well…. alright, Hares," Nicole starts, dusting her hands off, "Divide and conquer. Billy has to be around here somewhere."

'Hopefully.' goes unsaid, but painfully heard.

"R-Right!" Nekomata pipes up, her tails lashing with nervous energy, "I’m sure we’ll find him in no time! He can’t really keep quiet, anyway, y- you know?"

Anby doesn’t say anything at all.

They split up, taking turns calling the android's name and pouncing on any slight glimpse of white or red or yellow. Even greenish black would be better than nothing. Each empty nook, each second of silence, grated on their nerves until they were like frayed live wires.

Usually, Billy kept track of how long the Cunning Hares' stayed in a Hollow. It kept them all from lingering too long, unless they got stuck, and it kept them safe. Why couldn't they keep Billy safe- Now they had no idea how long they'd been searching.

Nicole had moved on to bargaining with empty air.

"Billy," she calls, heaving a heavy pillar to the side with a huff, "Come on, answer already! I won't yell at you anymore, or whack you or- or anything. Just answer us, please!"

"And I won't make fun of how you like to listen to classical music to fall asleep!" Nekomata joins in, from somewhere to Anby's left, "I'll even go to Random Play with you to find more, meow!"

"I'll watch Starlight Knights with you," It couldn't hurt to join in after all, Anby decides, "We could all go to the restaurant, and invite the Phaethon siblings, and-"

It was like something out of one of her movies. The second Anby pushes aside a new piece of rubble, she sees it. A tattered piece of the android's jacket- connected to tattered sleeves and sparking metal arms and a big fluffy head of white hair.

The relief almost sends the smaller Demara to her knees.

Time and place, she reminds herself fiercely, quickly signaling the other two closer to better excavate their friend. He's not in any form of good condition. It doesn't even look like he's conscious.

One of his video sensors is cracked, infected with a galactic black sludge that glows a mixture of pinkish blue red purple. The rest of his plating was pulsating green, and severe corruption was blooming anywhere it could take root.

It even looked like his audio processers were damaged. Anby couldn't even imagine how that must felt for her hyperactive friend- stuck in a silent, cramped space while Ether ate at his mind. Trapped without knowing that they were looking for him.

She hoped he would know anyway, that he wouldn't be wondering if he'd die alone under the weight of a building. Billy wasn't exactly insecure, but...

Anby shakes herself out of thinking about it. They'd found him, that was all that mattered at the moment. Now the Hares' just had to get him back home and back in working order.

"Both of you, stand back!" Nicole orders, aiming her briefcase above the wreckage pinning the android's lower torso.

The smaller girls are quick to comply, and out of the corner of her eye she can see the thiren swipe something golden off the ground. Nekomata shows it to her in silent explanation before shoving it deep into her sleeve for safekeeping.

Billy's little sheriff star.

A shot goes off before the smaller Demara can dwell on it, and suddenly the rubble atop their friend is being vacuumed up into the blackhole that Nicole manifests. They each grab a metal limb and tug him out of range.

One problem taken care of, another appears. The corruption blooming from his joints is excessive. If they take him out of the Hollow like this...

"We don't have time to think about it," Nicole reminds them all, voice tight with the weight of the android's life, "Anby, cut off as many of these... things as you can without hurting him. We'll see what we can do from there."

Anby nods once, and readies her sword.

One, two, four, eight turns to sixteen and sixteen turns to the very last one being cut down without mercy. With each bud removed, the sickly green light between his plates fades until it's barely there at all. There's not much to be done about the crack over his eye until they make it to a mechanic, but even that seems to lose it's glitchy appearance.

The Cunning Hares' don't bother with fighting the Ethereals they pass- there's no time- so it's mad dash to the exit that jostles the android's already crushed legs.

....Billy really was all limbs and pizazz.

It's only once the reunited Hares' make it a good deal from the Hollow that they stop running, doubled over and desperate for a full breath. Anby takes a quick survey of their surroundings as she gently lowers Billy to the ground, propped up on her lap to at least provide a little comfort.

It looks they ended up in Belobog territory, around where that eccentric mechanic liked to linger around. Gary-? Grail? Whatever...

Nekomata crouches down next to them and fishes the little star out of her sleeve. It's battered, and kind of dented around the points, but it still clips onto the leather like it never left.

Anby can vaguely hear Nicole tap away at her phone behind her, the curses muttered almost like a soothing balm of normalcy as the last of the corruption finally leaves Billy. His cracked eye returns to it's familiar shade of yellow- if painfully dull compared to his normal vibrancy.

But he's still unresponsive.

Still so hauntingly quiet and still. It's unnatural, and it isn't right. And none of them know if the android's going to last until tomorrow. Or even until the next hour.

Unbidden, Anby can feel her lower lip tremble- can feel stinging behind her eyes as she continues to run her hand through dusty white hair. It held none of the softness it did before this whole... job. Before her stupid grip had fumbled.

Anby hadn't cried in years, yet now she finds she can only helplessly watch as the salt splatters against the android's face plate. Like a mimicry of tears he wasn't built to shed.

"AhHh- Anby, don't cry," Nekomata frets, clearly freaked out by the uncharacteristic display, "He'll be okay! Bil- Billy's tough as nails, remember? I haven't known him for as long as you two.. but even I can tell that!"

Her puffy sleeves gently pat at the smaller Demara's face, trying to clear away the stupid liquid that was blurring her vision. Soft mantras of 'he'll be ok' are whispered, even as the thiren herself starts to cry.

Anby hunches over, would be curling into her knees if it wasn't for the weight of the unmoving android on her lap, and Nekomata clutches onto the lapels of his jacket and stifles a hiccup by biting down on her lip.

He wasn't coming back to them this time.

He wouldn't be there in the morning to braid her hair, or entertain her movie references, or lighten the mood with his silly Starlight Knight quips. He wouldn't be there to help them reach tall shelves, or distract their clients while Nicole emptied their bank accounts, or flail about with his lanky limbs.

Billy wouldn't be there.

...

..creak...

...Creak..

Creak.

Cool metal fingers brush past Anby's face, and then Nekomata's, and then fall limply back to the hard concrete.

"...don't... cry.."

...

...!

Billy!

Warm light finally flickers to life behind the android's video sensors, dimmer than normal but there.

Anby feels as though her heart's been restarted. Like the world had suddenly been bleached of color only for it to be a really badly timed greyscale shot.

Billy was alive, and whirring back into gear under their hands.

"You guys... really came for me..?"

"You big dummy!" Nekomata sniffs, ears and tails poofed like she'd been startled, "of course we did!"

"Have more faith in us," Anby echoes the thiren, resting her forehead against the android's with one final sniff. Nekomata rests her's against the diamond on his chest.

He can't hear them, his audio processers are still busted, but Anby hopes he can feel their care for him. Hopes he can feel how much they love him, and that they were here to stay no matter what happened. Just like he was for them.

Billy Kid was the heart of the Cunning Hares', after all.