#can’t wait for him to feel at peace as he looks in the left drawing hehe

[coffeeandcalligraphy]

Falling in love all by yourself, handsome? | Lonan <3

As Lonan nurses the fire, Harrison traces his face, the violet impasto around his eye. Lonan has always looked like a masterpiece to him, damp black hair that almost looks navy blue, a smile so subtle, it’s almost acquired.

What do we think—does he look like fine art???

Lonan portrait is DONE!! I can’t look at this too hard because this is exactly what he looks like and it’s freaking me out. :)

Digital portrait in Procreate. B&W to colour. 10 hours.

[mellowswriting]

the sweetest dream

pairing || Miguel O’Hara x f!Reader

word count || 1.5k

summary || Miguel comes home to find you sleeping peacefully on the couch. He can’t help himself. 

content || SMUT, somnophilia, oral (miguel eats that 🐱 while ur sleeping), rough needy sex, creampie, Miguel is pussy whipped!!!

a/n || saw ATSV twice just for this man

Miguel Masterlist  |  Masterlist 

It’s late when Miguel finally walks through the front door - later than usual. Nothing quite went to plan today. A series of fuck ups left him scouring an alien world for an anomaly that should have been a quick and easy grab. Hours later, he stalks into his apartment with leftover adrenaline still boiling just beneath the surface. The sight of you sprawled out on the couch is the only thing that keeps him from slamming the door behind him.

You must have fallen asleep trying to wait up for him. It eases some of that tension that still plagues him. A sigh heaves through him as he drinks in the image you make. It would make him smile if he wasn’t still so tense. You look so peaceful and soft, only wearing a tank top and panties that leave so much bare skin exposed to his hungry gaze. He missed you. All day, throughout all of the bullshit, all he could do was think about how much easier it would be if you were by his side. His partner in all things.

Miguel’s fingers trail over the curve of your hip contemplatively. He knows he should just carry you to bed, wrap himself around you, and let you both get some rest. He knows that. But the temptation of your body, so soft and sleepy and pliable… he doesn’t know how to resist. His fingertips glide up your inner thigh and you sigh softly, your legs spreading for him almost on instinct.

“Fuck, baby…” Miguel murmurs in a low, aching tone. He braces one knee on the cushion and flattens his hands on each of your thighs, eagerly spreading you further to satiate his growing greed. A broken sound leaves him at the darkened spot on your underwear. He can’t stop himself from rubbing you through the soft cotton and watching that wet spot grow. “Dreamin’ about me, aren’t you?”

You make another soft, sleepy sound that sends arousal pulsing through him. He’s careful as he tugs your underwear down and discards them on the floor. He doesn’t want you waking until you’re desperate enough to whine and tremble for him just how he likes. His fingers stroke your clit in slow circles, marveling at how wet you get from the simplest of his touches. Every little sound and shudder he draws from you melts that tension in his muscles a little more.

Miguel hovers over your prone body with a possessive, aching need to take, take, take. The tank top shreds with a simple swipe of his claw and he can’t help the shiver that rocks through him as he watches the cool air flush across your bare skin. He leans into the impulse and lets his suit disappear, his hand automatically wrapping around his leaking cock. He strokes himself in a loose fist - any more would be too much. He’s already on edge just from the sight of you. He trails sloppy kisses between your breasts, licking and sucking the familiar taste of your skin. Feeling you, tasting you - it calms the crazed beast that has been pacing like a caged animal in his mind all day. His fingers tweak your nipple and you shift, subtly pushing your chest into his touch before settling back down. So needy for him, even in sleep.

It drives him fucking crazy. Miguel shoves himself down the couch with little finesse, too desperate to bury his face between your thighs. A low growl emanates from his chest as he finally gets a taste of you - that addictive taste of sweat and woman that makes him insatiable. His tongue finds your clit with practiced ease, his eyes falling closed as he sucks that sensitive nub.

The sound of you gasping out his name in a sleep-roughened voice is the sweetest sound to ever grace his ears. His hands wrap around your thighs in a possessively tight grip as they begin to quiver. He watches through half-lidded eyes as you emerge from the last dregs of sleep and bloom with pleasure. Pride and love unfurl in his chest, a warm flush of affection that he can never seem to get enough from.

All that exists in this moment is you: your fingers tangled in his hair, your hips rolling into his face, your choked moan as he slips two thick fingers into you without warning. Every other universe, every threat to the canon - none of it fucking matters. Not when he’s got your perfect cunt soaking his face and fluttering around his fingers. This is when he would work you up nice and slow, drawing you so dangerously close to that edge before pulling you back from the precipice just to hear you beg. He would rest his chin on your belly and watch you beg for it with that cocky smirk on his face. But not tonight.

Miguel curls his fingers in time with the messy licking and sucking of his mouth. His free hand massages your thigh as you tremble beneath him. Just when you would expect him to slow down and ease up on you, his pace doubles. You inhale sharply and tighten your grip in his hair. Your sweet little murmurs of fuck, fuck, fuck, only encourage him. Slick clings to his face and runs down to his wrist in wet trails, and Miguel can’t stop himself from grinding his hips into the couch. Just seeing you like this, so close to falling apart for him, is enough to make him damn near come untouched.

You don’t need to say anything for him to know you’re close. Miguel has spent so much time with his hands on your body that he knows every inch by heart. Every swirl of his tongue and stroke of his fingers is perfectly designed to make you fall apart for him. He drags you over the edge with deliberate strokes of his tongue and fingers, and he revels in the moment that you finally break. He can’t imagine a better way to go than being suffocated by your thighs or drowned in your slick.

It isn’t until you push him away, shivering and a little overstimulated, that Miguel actually relents. He eases his fingers out of you and kisses his way up your body, paying special attention to all those little spots that make you yelp so adorably.

“Welcome home, I guess.” You tease in a sleep rough voice.

“Missed you.” He murmurs against your neck where he trails desperate, sloppy kisses. His hips rock into you, his cock rutting hard against your thigh. “Can I? Please, I just - fuck, I need you so bad, baby. Been thinkin’ about this pretty pussy all fuckin’ day…”

“Come on, pretty boy.” You nuzzle your face into his jaw. Finish what you started.”

Miguel takes the allowance and runs with it.

He threads his fingers through yours and pins your hand to the couch as he sinks into your soft, wet cunt. The last thread of his reason fractures at the feeling and his hips snap forward so hard you lurch up the couch.  Before he can try to rein himself in, you level him with a look that ignites his very soul. Fire burns in your eyes, pure lust and desire that has your teeth gritting and your hips rolling to meet his. A look that dares him to take, to fuck you like he needs to. He’s never been one to step down from a challenge.

The pace he sets is devastating. Sweat slicks every inch where your bodies meet. His body is pressed so close to yours that he grinds against your clit with every thrust and he can tell how close you are to coming again. You curse him as his cock shoves against something deep and so impossibly good that it hurts. Miguel doesn’t relent. He isn’t much further behind and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t work another orgasm out of his girl before this is over. He shifts the angle of his hips just so and you convulse around the thick of his cock. Your nails dig into the thick muscle of his shoulder and you throw your head back with a broken cry.

His hips slam into you with every growled word: Good. Fucking. Girl. He buries almost painfully deep as pleasure snaps in his belly, molten and all-consuming in the heat of your cunt. Every pulse of his cock sees him melting a little bit more into you, his weight only supported by one teetering elbow braced in the cushion. His hips still jerk, forcing the cutest whimpers out of you. He chases after your sweet little sounds, tongue dipping into your mouth for the slightest taste of that honeyed pleasure. Your fingers thread in his soft curls The kiss is almost… tender. As if he didn’t just fuck the absolute shit out of you.

You hum, a happy little rumble that almost sounds like purring. “Missed you too, Miggy.”

[0x-cinder]

Fem! Reader (gendered language)has been flirting with Luffy for months, and she's starting to lose hope. Will Luffy prove her wrong?

Content Warnings: none?

Lovesickness

It was a bright, peaceful afternoon for the Strawhats. Each member enjoyed their usual activities while the captain looked out to sea atop the ship's figurehead.

You watched him from where you sat with Nico Robin as she read, holding Chopper in your lap.

Even from this angle, the captain was beautiful. His dark hair blew in the breeze as he sat, rocking side to side in contentment. You didn’t have to see it to know that he had his signature joyful smile painted all over his face.

Just imagining it made your heart flutter.

“Ugh, this is so frustrating.” You sighed, running your hands through your hair.

Nico Robin looked up from the book she was reading.”What is?”

“Luffy.” You replied.

“What about him?”

“I’ve been flirting with him for months, and he still doesn’t get it!” You exclaimed, “Not even Nami’s tips are working.”

“Luffy’s an idiot.” Chopper chimed in, still focused on the chocolate bar he was snacking on, “He’ll notice eventually.”

“Maybe it’s already working.” Robin offered, “He’s been quite touchy with you recently.”

“He’s touchy with everyone.” You deadpanned, “It’s Luffy.”

“I think that’s just your self-doubt talking.” She said, closing her book in her lap. “You don’t see what we do.”

Chopper nodded in agreement. “Robin’s right! Remember yesterday when I showed you my medical drawing, and he appeared out of nowhere just to hug you?”

You felt your cheeks begin to burn at the memory. Luffy had done similar things in the past, from randomly bringing you snacks to share to casually swinging his arm around your shoulder or linking your arm with his while walking.

“And,” Chopper continued, taking another bite of his chocolate bar, “When you asked him why, he said he ‘just felt like it’ and left?”

You cast a doubtful look at Robin, “He doesn’t do that to either of you?”

They both shook their heads.

“You know there’s only one way to find out…” Robin said with a smile, “Just tell him how you feel.”

Your eyes widened, “No! I can’t do that! What if he doesn’t feel the same way? What if he doesn’t want me on the ship anymore?”

Robin chuckled. “Luffy wouldn’t kick you out. If he doesn’t feel the same, he’ll probably assume you’re confessing platonic love.”

You buried your face in your hands, “That’s even worse.”

“Well, you won’t know until you try.” Robin shrugged, opening her book and leaning back in her chair to continue reading.

You considered her words for a moment. She was right. You wouldn’t truly know how Luffy felt unless you said something to him.

“I’ll think about it.” You sighed.

Chopper shifted from your lap onto Robin’s as you stood, “I’m gonna ask Sanji for a snack.” You said before dismissing yourself.

You didn’t really need a snack, just a moment to yourself.

Robin’s words echoed through your mind as you made your way to your room.

How on earth am I supposed to tell him? You thought anxiously.

How would he react?

Would things change between us if my feelings aren't reciprocated?

Suddenly, a solid object in your path knocked you out of your thoughts. Startled, you looked up to see the beaming eyes of your captain looking back at you.

“Woah, watch where you’re going.” Luffy laughed, “What’re you thinking so hard about?”

Your heart rate picked up, “Uhm- nothing important.” You stammered.

Tell him now. Your mind screamed. Just get it over with.

“Are you okay? You look…Upset.” He asked with a concerned look, reaching out to take your arm.

You froze. The words were on the tip of your tongue, but you couldn’t speak.

Luffy waited for a response, his worried eyes focused on you.

You looked away and stepped around him. “It’s nothing, I’m fine.” You said quietly, walking away before he could interrogate you further.

Luffy’s eyes remained on your back as you departed. He’d been happy to see you; he hadn’t spoken to you all day, and it was killing him.

Is she mad at me or something? His heart grew heavy at the thought.

Once you were out of sight, Luffy placed his hand over his chest, reacting to the unfamiliar feeling. Usually, his heart felt lighter when you were around.

“What is going on with me? Am I sick or something?” He said quietly to himself.

The captain decided he’d talk to Chopper, just to be safe, and continued in the direction you’d come from to find Chopper and Robin in the same place you’d just left them.

Chopper waved as Luffy approached and opened his mouth to greet him.

“Chopper, I think I’m sick or something.” Luffy explained before the doctor could speak, “Is there a sickness that only affects you when you’re around a certain person?”

“You mean…You think someone got you sick?” Chopper asked, confused, “What are your symptoms?”

Luffy thought for a moment before responding, “No. It’s more like…When she smiles at me, my heart starts beating weird.” He started, his ears turning a light shade of pink. “When I touch her, warmth spreads around my body like I have a fever.” He clutched his chest, still aching from seeing the conflicted look in your eyes when he'd run into you moments ago. “When she’s hurt or upset, my chest starts feeling heavy.”

“She?” Robin asked, putting her book down with a smile and shooting a knowing look at Chopper.

“Y-yeah?” Luffy replied, a blush spreading across his cheeks, “See? Just thinking about her makes me feel fuzzy.”

Robin laughed. “That’s what we call lovesickness.”

“Lovesickness…” Luffy repeated, tilting his head in confusion. His eyes darted to Chopper, “Is there a cure?”

“It’s not a real sickness that has a cure, Luffy,” Chopper grinned, “All the symptoms you’ve described tell me that you’re in love.”

Luffy’s eyes widened as it clicked in his mind. For the past month and a half, he’d spent countless hours trying to rationalize the way you made him feel but he'd just been harboring feelings for you the whole time. He felt like an idiot for not realizing it sooner.

“So this is what a crush feels like?” Luffy asked, more as a note to himself rather than a question he needed an answer to.

A wave of determination washed over him. He had to share this with you. Now that he knew what the feeling was, what it meant, he couldn’t keep it from you.

“How do I tell her? Do you think she feels the same about me?” He asked his two crewmates.

“Pick a time and a place, then tell her you want to talk to her.” Robin advised, “Then just speak from your heart.”

“Oooh! Then kiss her!” Chopper added with a nod, “That’s important.”

“Kiss her?” Luffy pondered, “But wouldn’t that be awkward if she doesn’t-"

“Don’t overthink it, Luffy. Trust us.” Chopper giggled excitedly.

Luffy turned to Robin inquisitively. She nodded in agreement.

The captain grinned. “All right. I’m gonna do it! Thanks, guys!”

“Any time.” Robin chuckled.

---

You spent the rest of the day in your room, avoiding Luffy. Completely overthinking the way you’d practically run away from him earlier.

A knock sounded at your door. “Mon amour,” Sanji’s voice said through the wood, dripping with its usual devotion, “dinner will be ready in ten. I made one of your favorites!”

“Okay, thanks, Sanji. I’ll be down in a bit,” You called, beginning to prepare yourself to leave the safety of your room.

“Also, Luffy’s looking for you.” The cook added with much less enthusiasm.

You froze, your heart pounding in your ears, “Okay” was all you said.

Sanji’s footsteps faded away, leaving you alone once again.

“Fuck it.” You said eventually, tired of wallowing in self-pity. You opened your door and made your way to the top deck.

Suddenly, two arms wrapped around you from behind. “I’ve been looking for you.”

You jumped and spun around to face Luffy, “Jeez, you scared me, Lu!”

He grinned and rubbed the back of his neck, “Sorry, I’ve just been lookin’ for you everywhere. I’ve got somethin’ to tell you.”

“Okay?” You fiddled with the tips of your fingers.

“It’s important.” He looked around, “But not here. Follow me.”

The captain grabbed your hand and began leading you towards the front of the ship.

He stopped just before the ship’s figurehead and turned to you, taking both of your hands in his. “Okay. This is my favorite place on the ship, so I think this is a good spot.” He fidgeted nervously, and his expression turned serious.

“Luffy, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

Luffy took a deep breath, squeezing your hands gently.

Then he brought his lips down onto yours.

Your eyes widened in shock as your body tensed.

Luffy slid his arms around your waist and pulled you closer to him. Warmth radiated through your body, and you relaxed into the kiss, wrapping your arms around his neck.

It was a soft, affectionate kiss. The captain

kept his hands where they were despite wanting to touch elsewhere. He wanted to claim every part of you as his. He'd watched Nami demolish Sanji enough times to be wary of how he touched women.

You pulled away after a moment, needing a moment to process the event.

Luffy tilted his head in confusion. “Did I do something wrong?”

You shook your head. “No, no, that was…” you looked away shyly, “...Good.”

Luffy smiled his wide, goofy smile. “That’s a relief; I thought you were gonna turn me down for a second.”

“Why would I ever do that? You’re the most wonderful man I’ve ever met.”

He tensed, his ears turning a vibrant shade of pink. “I am?”

You nodded.

His smile grew even more comprehensive, “Then you’re the kindest, funniest, and most beautiful woman I’ve met.”

“Luffy! Get your dirty paws off her!” Sanji’s angry voice sounded from the deck below, interrupting the moment you and Luffy were in the middle of. “Dinner’s ready!”

Luffy laughed, ignoring Sanji’s demand to let you go. “Finally! I'm starving!”

“You're always hungry, Luffy.” You chuckled.

“I can't help it! I gotta have enough energy to protect what's mine.” He winked, “Let's go eat!”

Your heart skipped a beat.

You were his.

[soulofapatrick]

Domesticated - Jace Herondale x Female (Daylighter) Reader

Summary: this is a 5 + 1 of all the times you and Jace act like a couple even before you admit feelings for each other

Words: 6k

Warnings: injury, bleeding, blood drinking

Y/N’s POV - 

Part One

I’m not really sure when Jace appearing at random hours of the day in my apartment became a normal things. He’s dirty and covered in ichor from a demon hunt the Clave sent him and Alec on and he’s grumbling to himself as he shrugs off his leather jacket. There’s dried blood on him from wounds his iratze rune probably healed and he’s toeing off his shoes before grumbling more about the demons. 

“I’m going to shower.” He tells me, voice gruff but there’s a softness to it as he addresses me. 

“Alright Jace.” I respond, turning back to the show I was watching, waiting up for him to get back as it’s nearly 2am. Being a vampire is weird, especially a daylighter like Simon as at first I was nocturnal and now, suddenly, I’m back to daylight hours. It was weird getting used to humanity again but ever since Jace has been coming round it’s been easier somehow. 

As I listen to the sound of the water running in the bathroom, I can’t help but think about how effortlessly Jace fits into my life. We’ve been…friends? Yeah, friends for so long, and lately, it feels like we’ve crossed some invisible line into something more. But whenever I’m around him, my heart would be pounding if it could still beat and there’s a stirring in my undead soul, a flutter of excitement I though I had long forgotten. 

If it weren’t for Jace, I might have left the Shadowhunter world behind altogether, taken Magnus up on whisking me somewhere far away, maybe Canada, Clary and Simon, my own best friends, seem to have forgotten about me again, lost in their own adventures and relationship. And Luke, the only parental figure in my life, is more invested in his pack than checking up on me. But somehow, Jace always manages to find his way back to my doorstep, like a guiding light in the darkness. 

I remember the first time he appeared on my doorstep, how he looked at me with those piercing golden eyes and saw something in me that no one else seemed to. He didn’t treat me like a monster or a freak because of what I had become, but instead, he saw me for who I truly am—a creature worthy of love and friendship.

And now, sitting here on the couch, waiting for him to remerge from the bathroom, I can’t help but wonder how the hell we ended up here in this weird dance and routine, so domesticated. One moment we’re battling demons and next, we’re lounging on the couch like a couple of teenagers on a lazy Sunday afternoon. 

Finally, after what feel like an eternity, Jace remerges from the bathroom, looking surprisingly innocent and boyish in a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a graphic tee-shirt that I’m pretty sure is either mine or my brothers. His hair is still damp from the shower, tousled in a way that makes him look disarmingly handsome. Despite the exhaustion tech into his features, there’s a spark in his golden eyes that never fails to draw me in. 

Jace collapses onto the couch beside me, his head finding its place on my shoulder, it feels like the most natural thing in the world. His weight against me is comforting, like an anchor tethering me to reality amidst the chaos of our lives. I close my eyes, revelling in the warmth of his presence and the steady rhythm of his breath against my skin.

As exhaustion finally catches up to him, his breathing evens out, lulling me into a sense of peace. I listen to the sound of his steady inhales and exhales, a gentle melody that soothes my restless mind. And as I drift off into sleep, I'm enveloped in the cocoon of his scent—sunshine and something uniquely Jace, mixed with the subtle fragrance of my shower products. It's a comforting aroma, one that fills me with a sense of belonging and contentment.

In the depths of slumber, I feel his warmth beside me, a constant presence that eases my fears and worries. But when I wake in the morning, he's gone, leaving behind only a hastily scrawled note on my coffee table. My heart sinks as I read his words, explaining that Alec called him in early for paperwork and debriefing on the previous day's hunt.

Despite the pang of disappointment at his absence, I can't help but smile at the thought of him, out there in the world, fighting alongside his fellow Shadowhunters. And as I rise to start the day, I carry with me the memory of his presence, the echo of his warmth lingering in the air like a promise of his return.

Part Two

I awake to a crashing and the grumbled cry of Jace, my panic immediately vanishing at the sound of his voice. My phone reads 7.03pm and I’m realising my nap was longer than I had planned or anticipated, having tried to stay awake for Jace who had messaged me to say he’d be home in time for dinner. 

As I groggily process the situation, something within me stirs at the realisation Jace used the word “home” to describe my place. It’s a simple word, but coming from him, it carries a weight that sends a flutter through my un-beating heart. I push aside the covers and pull myself sleepy from bed, feeling the fabric of a shirt that definitely isn’t mine brush against my skin as it reaches mid-thigh. 

Shuffling towards the kitchen, I’m met with the sight and smell of chaos. Jace is in the midst of a culinary disaster, his brow furrowed in frustration as he grumbles to himself. The scent of burning food fills the air, assaulting my sensitive vampire senses, But despite the mess and the mishap, there’s something oddly endearing about the scene—the way Jace is so determined to make dinner for us, even if it means nothing is going according to plan. 

As I approach him, I can’t help but smile at the sight of him, his hir tousled and his expression a mix of annoyance and determination. Despite the chaos, there a sense of warmth and familiarity in the air, a feeling of him that I’ve come to associate with him. 

I head straight for the fridge to grab fresh ingredients as soon as I get the gist of what he was trying to make by the minced meat and the spaghetti, catching the way he looks at me. There’s a softness in his gaze, a silent appreciation for my presence and the way I effortlessly step in to salvage the situation. But when I reach for the pasta sauce, Jace stops me, holding up a jar of red liquid. 

My heart tries to burst out of my chest when I realise what it is. Jace wasn’t just trying to make dinner for us; he was trying to recreate a meal I loved as a human, altered for my now vampire self. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes about his thoughtfulness and the depth of his care for me. 

“Raphael said it was the best of the best and told me how to prepare it so it doesn’t…” Jace waves his hands around trying to think of the word Raphael used, “Separate?” 

I can’t help but laugh softly at the face Jace makes as he says the word ‘separate’. It’s moments like these that remind me of just how endearing he can be, even when he’s trying his best to navigate unfamiliar territory like helping a vampire like me. 

Stepping closer to him, I wrap my arms around him in a hug, feeling the tension in his muscles as he hesitates before finally relaxing enough to return the embrace. His strong arms wrap around me, pulling me close as he buries his face in my hair. In the moment, with the scent of blood and spices lingering in the air and the warmth of Jace’s embrace surrounding me, I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love for the man standing in front of me. 

Reluctantly, Jace finally lets me go, suggesting we try cooking again. As I try to assist him, he’s suddenly spinning me back to face and him and gripping my waist in his strong hands, lifting me and sitting me on a clean area of the counter top, “You’re to just sit there and look pretty while I work this out.” He says with a smirk, a hint of redness colouring his cheeks. 

I can’t help but let out the most embarrassing giggle at his sudden shyness, feeling a warmth spread through me at his playfulness. As I watch him move around the pitch with practiced ease, a sense of contentment washes over me. Despite the chaos and mishaps, being here with Jace feels like home. 

And as I sit on the counter, watching him cook, I cant’t help but feel grateful for moments like these—simple, ordinary, mundane moments that remind me of what I could have had when human. Surrounded by the warmth and aroma of our makeshift meal and Jace’s soft humming as he cooks, I know that no matter what challenges may come our way, as long as we have each other, we'll always find a way to make it through.

Part Three

The library is quiet as I slip inside, the familiar scent of old books and parchment greeting me like an old friend. Alec had given me permission to use the Institute as a safe haven whenever I like, and I often find myself wandering towards the library. It’s become my sanctuary, a place where I can escape the weird world I’m now a part of and lose myself in the pages of novels and histories. 

As I roam the aisles, my fingers trailing along the spines of countless books, I feel a sense of calm wash over me. The library is a treasure trove of knowledge, and I’ve made it my mission to learn as much as I can about the Shadowhunter world. I immerse myself in the histories of the Clave, learning about the battles fought and the heroes who rose to prominence, the history of the main families in this world. 

Eventually, I pick a book off the shelves, one that Alec had actually recommended to me during one of our conversations. It’s a thick volume filled with tales of Shadowhunter lore, and I can’t wait to delve into its pages. With a contented sigh, I sink into one of the soft loveseats scattered throughout the massive library, feeling eh weight of the book in my hands as I lose myself in the pages. 

For the rest of the afternoon, I’m lost in a world of magic and mystery, my surroundings fading away as I become immersed in the story unfolding before me. The hours pass in a blur, but in the moment, surrounded by the knowledge and history of the Shadowhunters, I feel a sense of belonging and purpose that I’ve been searching for since the day I was turned. 

My attention is momentarily drawn away from the pages of the book in my hand by the faint murmur of voices approaching. It takes a moment but I’m recognising the voices, the cadence of their speech familiar to me even from a distance with my new hearing abilities. But it’s the sound of the library door opening that truly captures my attention, and when I look up, my heart skips a beat at the sight of a familiar blonde figure standing in the doorway. 

Jace. 

His golden eyes scan the room, searching, until they land on me. A smile spreads across his face, lighting up his features in a way that never fails to make my heart flutter like it’s still beating, “There you are, Mouse,” He greets, using the stupid pet name he’s decided for me, “You weren’t at home.” 

As he strides over, my attention is captivated by the way his muscles ripple beneath the fabric of his tight black shirt, each movement a testament to his strength and grace. My pulse would be skyrocketing if it could, and I can feel a flush from the recent blood I drank creeping its way up my neck as he stops in front of me, his presence commanding and magnetic. 

“Hey Jace,” I manage to say, voice betraying the flutters of excitement I feel within me. 

He smirks, golden eyes dancing with amusement as if he knows what he’s doing to me, “What were you doing here all alone?” He asks, tone teasing yet filled with genuine curiosity. 

I just shrug, attempting to maintain an air of casualness despite the turmoil of emotions swirling within me, “Just needed the quiet.” I reply, my voice soft. 

He nods in understanding, his expression softening as he reaches out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. The simple gesture sending a shiver down my spine, igniting a rush of sensations that I struggle to contain. His proximity, his touch—it's all too much, and yet not enough.

“Hey, listen,” He says, his voice warm and inviting, “We’re all heading to the Hunter’s Moon to hear Simon sing, You wanna join us?” 

The thought of being surrounded by so many voices, sounds and smells—the overwhelming sensory overload—has me shuddering involuntarily. I feel a knot form in my stomach, a wave of anxiety washing over me at the mere thought of venturing out into the bustling world beyond the quiet of the Institute currently. 

With a shaky breath, I shake my head almost aggressively, “No, I think I’ll pass.” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper, “I’m… I’m not really in the mood for crowds tonight.” 

Jace nods in understanding, his expression sympathetic, “Hey, that’s okay,” He reassures me, his voice gentle, and he’s surprising me by leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to my cheek, “You do what feels right for you. But if you ever change your mind, we’ll be there.” 

I offer him a weak smile, grateful for his understanding, “Thanks Sunshine.” I murmur, the weight of my anxiety slowly easing with his words of reassurance and his sweet actions. 

As Jace turns to leave, I watch him go, feeling a sense of longing wash over me like a gentle tide. His departure leaves an ache in my chest, a yearning for something more, something I can't quite name. But then, I feel the lingering warmth of his kiss on my cheek, a fleeting touch that sends a jolt of electricity through me.

Despite my reluctance to join them, a part of me wishes I could be there, sharing in the camaraderie and laughter with Jace and the others. The thought of being by his side, laughing and joking like we always do, fills me with a bittersweet longing. 

In the moment, as I sit alone in the quiet solitude of the library, the whole interaction feels strangely domesticated, as if it’s something we’ve done a thousand times before. Jace’s kiss was casual yet intimate, like it was a natural extension of our friendship, and yet it leaves me yearning for more. 

I can’t help but replay the moment in my mind, the sensation of his lips against my cold skin, the warmth of his touch. It’s a memory I want to hold onto, to savour and cherish, and yet it only serves to deepen my desire for him. 

As I sink back into the soft cushions of the loveseat, the ache in my chest lingers, a constant reminder of the feelings I can’t shake. I want him to kiss me again, to make me feel alive in a way I never thought possible. And as I close my eyes and let out a heavy sigh, I know that despite the risks and uncertainties, I can't deny the pull he has on my undead heart.

Part Four

I honestly have no idea how I ended up in the training room with Jace but I definitely know how I ended up on my ass glaring up at his laughing figure. Jace decided that he was going to teach me how to defend myself as Alec wants downworlders to help Shadowhunters on patrols to bridge the gap that had formed since Valentine. 

So here I am, climbing to my feet and glaring at Jace who readies himself for another round and my body is already aching. Jace is already readying himself for another round, and I steel myself for the onslaught, determined to at least make him break a sweat. As he lunges at me, I use my vampire speed to dodge and jab him in the back with my elbow with precision. But before I can revel in the small victory, he’s already spinning around and swiping my feet out from underneath me again. 

I hit the ground with a frustrated grunt, the air would have been knocked out of me if I were still breathing. I let out a sound of pure annoyance as I lie there, staring up at the ceiling, feeling so goddamn angry that I haven’t managed to get Jace down once. 

“Come on, Mouse,” Jace says, offering me a hand up, “You’re getting better, I promise.” 

I take his hand and pull myself to my feet yet again, but the weight of defeat still hangs heavy on my shoulders. No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to measure up to Jace's level of skill and agility. It's frustrating, disheartening even, to constantly fall short despite my best efforts.

With a heavy sigh, I get back into position, expecting Jace to do the same but instead a small gasp is drawn from me when I feel his body practically pressed to my back as he adjusts my positioning. I feel a rush of warmth as he nudges my feet into a better position and adjusts my arms, guiding them a little higher. 

His touch is firm yet gentle, his hands moving with practiced precision as he adjusts my stance. And then, his hands fall to my hips, twisting them slightly to improve my balance before he steps back, satisfied with his work. 

I’m left standing there, the lingering sensations of his touch sending a shiver down my spine. Despite the lack of a heartbeat or any physical sensations, I can’t deny the way he makes me feel. Safe. Protected. As if, just for a moment, the weight of the world is lifted from my shoulders and I can simply be. 

With a renewed determination, I square my shoulder and focus on the task at hand. As we being sparring again, I find myself moving with a newfound confidence, each strike more precise than the last. And then, miraculously, it happens—I actually manage to get Jace down for once. 

I just watch in disbelief as he hits the ground, a surprised laugh escaping him as he looks up at me with sparkling eyes. In the moment, his laughter is like music to y ears, lighthearted. As Jace lies there, sprawled on the ground with a grin that could light up the room, I can't help but feel a rush of exhilaration. His boyish charm and playful energy are infectious, making me forget for a moment that we're supposed to be training. But as he starts to rise, that cocky smirk forming on his lips, I know the challenge isn't over yet.

With a twinkle in his eyes, he beckons me forward, goading me to try again. His confidence is palpable, almost tangible in the air between us. And I, of course, take the bait, eager to prove myself once more. 

But, as I unleash my vampire strength and speed, throwing my self into the spar with all I’ve got, I quickly realise that Jace has activated both runes, his agility now matching mine. His speed rune makes him a formidable opponent, dodging and waving with ease, always one step ahead. 

In the blink of an eye, he’s behind me, sweeping my feet out from under me with a swift motion. I feel the ground rushing up to meet me, but my reflexes kick in instinctively. As I tumble backwards, I grab onto Jace’s shirt, pulling him down with me. 

We land in a tangled heap, laughter bubbling up between us as we lie there, catching our breath. For a moment, time seems to stand still, the world around us fading away until it's just the two of us, tangled together on the ground. I can smell how sweet and like sunshine Jace’s blood smells in his veins and feel the way his heart is pounding as he buries his face in my neck. 

And in the moment, I realise just how much I enjoy being with him, the easy camaraderie and undeniable chemistry between us, making me, again, realise just how domesticated we are with each other. 

Part Five

The rain is coming down so hard it’s bordering on hail and as overwhelming as my senses are, the sound of it hitting the windows of my apartment is actually very comforting. Jace is in the shower again, coming back from another demon nest hunt and he’s told me he ordered pizzas on his way home as he invited the others around to jin us for the movie night before he jumped in the shower. 

As grateful as I am for his presence, a flicker of anxiety creeps into my mind at the thought of the others joining us. Alec and Magnus have always been welcoming, their easygoing nature together putting me at ease from the start. But Simon and Clary, lost in their own bubble of love, often seem oblivious to anyone around them nowadays, especially me their childhood friend. And Izzy.. well, Izzy can get anyone she wants with a bat of her eyelashes has me a little jealous. 

As I wait for Jace to emerge from the shower, the sound of the rain drumming against the window grows louder, echoing the turmoil of my thoughts. I find myself questioning whether I’ll be able to navigate the dynamics of the evening, whether I’ll be able to hold my own amidst the company of the Shadowhunters and Downworlders that make up Jace’s inner circle. 

But then, as if sensing my apprehension, Jace appears, a towel draped casually around his waist and a smile lighting up his face. It’s as if time itself pauses for a moment, allowing me to drink in the sight before me. His presence is like a beacon of light in the dimly lit apartment, his golden eyes sparkling with warmth and mischief. With his damp hair tousled and his skin glistening with droplets of water, he looks every bit like an adonis, a vision of strength and beauty. 

The towel draped casually around his waist hangs dangerously low, teasingly revealing the beginnings of his happy trail. My gaze is drawn to the tantalising glimpse of skin, the curve of his hips, the sculptured muscles of his abdomen. It's a sight that leaves me breathless, a reminder of just how effortlessly attractive he is.

But it's not just his physical appearance that captivates me; it's the way he carries himself, with a confidence that borders on arrogance yet somehow remains endearing. His smile is like a beacon of warmth, infectious and irresistible, drawing me closer with its magnetic pull.

As he moves closer, the scent of his shower gel fills the air, a heady mixture of musk and citrus that sends a shiver down my spine. I find myself mesmerised by the play of light and shadow on his skin, the way the droplets of water cling to his body like liquid diamonds. He brushes a gentle kiss against my cheek, his touch reassuring in its familiarity, a warmth spreading through me, soothing the lingering traces of anxiety that had gripped me moments before. His touch is a familiar reassurance, grounding me to the present moment and easing the flutter of my nonexistent heartbeat. 

But before I can fully lose myself in the intimacy of the moment, a sharp knock at the door interrupts us, shattering the fragile bubble of privacy we’ve created. With a playful smack to Jace’s arm I stop him from heading to the door, “Go get some damn clothes on, I’ll answer it.” Before I’m striding over to answer the door, cheeks flushed with a heat that most likely betrays the intensity of my emotions. 

As I swing the door open, Jace is ducking into our room and I’m met with the amused gazes of Alec and Magnus, their eyebrows raised in teasing curiosity. Magnus’ playful smirk hints at the mischief dancing in his eyes, while Alec's expression is a mix of amusement and affection. 

Despite my embarrassment at being caught in such a vulnerable moment, I can't help but smile at the sight of them. Their presence is like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds, casting a warm glow over the room and dispelling the tension that had threatened to linger.

Suppressing the urge to bury my burning cheeks in my hands, I offer them a sheepish grin, knowing they heard what I said through the door, hoping to deflect their teasing with a lighthearted remark. But as Magnus's eyebrow quirks suggestively, I know that my attempt at nonchalance has fallen short. So, with a sigh of resignation, I step aside to let them in, knowing that there's no use in trying to hide the flush that still colours my cheeks

As I step aside to let them in, Alec hands me a DVD with a knowing smile. I can’t help bit roll my eyes fondly at his choice—Dracula. It’s become somewhat of an inside joke between me and Jace so I just know Jace told him to bring it. But before I have a chance to protest, Magnus is interjecting, his tone unreadable as he tells me “I’m afraid the others won’t be joining us tonight,” 

But Magnus’ words cut through the light-hearted banter, his tone carrying an unexpected weight as he informs me of the absence of our other friends. A pang of disappointment courses through me, a subtle ache in my chest as I realise that Clary and Simon won't be joining us tonight. They were more than just friends—they were my childhood companions, the ones who had been there through thick and thin. Their absence feels like a tangible loss, a reminder of how much our lives have changed since those carefree days of youth.

As I put the DVD in and get it ready, sinking into the couch with a heavy heart, I can't help but feel a sense of longing for the comfort of their presence. But I push aside those feelings, focusing instead on the company of Alec and Magnus, who have become like family to me in their own right. 

I sink into the cushions, allowing Alec and Magnus to take the other couch as we wait for Jace to return with the pizzas. Despite the disappointment lingering in the air, there's a quiet camaraderie between us, a shared understanding that in times of need, we can always rely on each other.

As the anticipation of Jace's return hangs in the air, the sound of the door opening signals his arrival. He appears just in time to answer the door, a grin spreading across his face as he enters with pizzas in hand. The sight of him brings a flicker of warmth to my heart, dispelling the lingering disappointment of our missing friends. 

Jace sets the pizzas down on the table with a flourish, his presence injecting a sense of energy into the room. With a casual ease, he joins us on the couch, seamlessly sliding in beside me. Without a second thought, he wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me snugly into his side. The gesture both  comforting and familiar, a silent reassurance of his affection for me. I lean into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against mine as he adjusts the blanket to cover us both. It's a simple act, but it speaks volumes about the bond we share—a bond that transcends words and barriers, connecting us on a deeper level.

With the remote in hand, Jace settles back against the cushions, his gaze fixed on the screen as he starts the movie. As the opening credits roll, I feel a sense of contentment wash over me, grateful for the warmth of Jace's embrace and the company of friends who feel like family.

Despite the disappointments and challenges we may face, in this moment, surrounded by laughter and love, I know that we'll always have each other. And as we lose ourselves in the world of Dracula, I find solace in the simple pleasures of friendship and companionship, knowing that no matter what the future may hold, we'll face it together, as a team.

Plus One

I’m not really sure how it happened but one moment I’m walking home from a day at the coffee shop and the next I’m being thrown into a wall. A wave of disorientating pain washes over me, leaving me gasping for breath and struggling to make sense eo what just happened. My sense reel, the world spinning in a dizzying blur as I try to focus on what just hit me. 

For a terrifying moment, I’m convinced that this is it—that I’m facing my end, torn to shreds by whatever unseen force assaulted me. Panic claws at the edges of my consciousness, threatening to consume me as I brace for the final blow. 

But then, as suddenly as it began, the assault ceases, leaving me trembling and shaken in its wake, unable to heal as I’ve lost too much blood. Slowly, I stagger to my feet, the world still spinning around me as I struggle to regain my bearings.The realisation that I’ve lost too much blood to heal hits me like a physical blow, leaving me lightheaded and unsteady. Every step is a battle against the dizziness and weakness that threatens to overwhelm me, but I push forward with grim determination. 

With each faltering step, the distance to the institute feels impossibly far, unable to use vampire speed without passing out. Panic sets in as I realise that Jace, my lifeline, is at the Institute today, and he hasn’t called to tell me he’s on his way home. Fear grips me like a vice, squeezing the breath from my lungs as I struggle to keep moving forwards. 

The world around me blurs as I stumble out of the alleyway and into the desired streets. My vision swims, the darkness closing in around me as I fight to stay conscious. Each breath is a struggle, my lungs burning with exertion as I push my body beyond its limits. 

Time loses all meaning as I continue to trudge forwards my footsteps echoing in the empty silence of the night. The Institute looms in the distance like a beacon of hope, its towering walls offering the promise of safety and sanctuary. But with each passing moment, it feels as though I'm slipping further and further away, teetering on the brink of unconsciousness.

Desperation claws at the edge of my consciousness as I force myself to keep moving, driven by the fear of what awaits me if I don’t reach the Institute in time. Every step is a battle against the darkness that threatens to engulf me, but I refuse to give up. 

With every ounce of strength I can muster, I push myself forward, determination fuelling my movements as I draw upon the last reserves of energy within me. As I approach the looming doors of the Institute, desperation spurs me to action, and I unleash the full force of my vampire speed. 

The doors fly open before me with a forceful momentum, swinging wide as if welcoming me home. But even as I breach the threshold, I trigger the wards surrounding the entrance, setting off alarms that echo through the empty halls. Before I can fully comprehend the situation, Jace appears before me, his weapon raised in a defensive stance. The sight of him, strong and unwavering, fills me with both relief and a sense of impending doom. I choke out his name, my voice barely a whisper as I struggle to remain upright. 

My knees give way beneath me, threatening to send me crashing to the unforgiving tiles below. But in the blink of an eye, Jace is there, his arms wrapping around me with lightning speed, catching me before I can hit the ground. The seraph blade clatters to the floor, forgotten in the urgency of the moment as Jace sinks us to the floor, cradling me in his arms, his eyes filled with concern and a hint of fear. I reach out to him, my fingers trembling as they brush against his cheek, a silent plea for reassurance. 

Despite my initial resistance, Jace's urgency is palpable, his wrist pressed insistently against my mouth as he pleads with me to drink. Fear courses through me as I shake my head, the thought of losing control terrifying me to the core. But as the scent of his blood fills my senses, a primal hunger takes hold, overpowering my rational thoughts. With a grip on my hair that borders on painful, Jace guides my mouth to the wound on his wrist, his other hand pressing against the back of my head. The taste of his blood is like nothing I've ever experienced before—warm and intoxicating, with a sweetness that rivals the warmth of the sun. 

As I drink, the fog that had clouded my mind begins to lift, clarity returning with each swallow. Guilt washes over me in waves, but I can't bring myself to stop. Jace's blood is a lifeline, grounding me in the present moment and soothing the ache of my wounds. I feed until I can feel the worst of the wounds stopping bleeding, my tongue lapping at the skin on Jace’s wrist to seal it shut. The taste of his blood lingering on my lips, a bittersweet taste. 

With a sigh of relief, I collapse against Jace's safe chest, my body trembling with exhaustion and relief. His touch is gentle yet firm, his hand cupping my jaw with a tenderness that tugs at my heartstrings. I feel his thumb under my chin, lifting my gaze to meet his, and as I look into those golden eyes, I see the raw emotion reflected in their depths.

Tears glisten in his eyes, a silent testament to the fear and concern he's been harboring for me. His voice is soft as he checks if I'm okay, the sound of it like a soothing balm to my battered soul. In that moment, I realise just how much he cares, how deeply he feels, and the thought fills me with a warmth that transcends the physical. 

As he leans down, his lips ghosting over mine with a hesitance that speaks volumes, I can feel the tension building between us, a palpable electricity that crackles in the air. My heart would be hammering in my chest, a rhythm that matches the erratic beat of his own. A small whine escapes my throat, a sound born of longing and need, and in that instant, his resolve crumbles. His lips crash against mine with a fervour that steals my breath away, a kiss so full of passion and intensity that it leaves me reeling. 

In that moment, I feel alive in a way I never have before, as if every nerve in my body is on fire with the intensity of his touch. It's as if he's breathing life back into me with each caress of his lips, each touch igniting a fire that burns brighter than the sun. 

“Maybe don’t almost die to act upon mutual feelings.” Jace is mumbling against my lips, earning a weak smack from me. 

“Shut up.” 

“Make me.” He retorts, kissing me softly once again. 

“Later I will.” 

The Shadowhunters Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[sweethyunsu]

Two in One - Cha Hyunsu

“Stay here.”

It wasn’t a statement; it was a demand. One that you didn’t want to obey.

It was also the last thing you remember before waking up. You were resting against your shared bed while Hyunsu dabbed a cloth into a bowl of water, wringing out the excess so it wouldn't make a mess.

As the grogginess faded, your eyes looked him over. He was completely covered in scrapes, gashes, and even as his arm dabbed the cloth onto your head, it was shaking.

“I-“ You paused, tears welling in your eyes as you looked him over. You knew he’d be fine in a few hours, but he would’ve been fine already if you just listened. “I’m sorry-” You sniffed.

“None of that matters.” He cut you off with a weak smile, his hand moving to gently lay on your shoulder. “You’re safe. I’m safe.” He paused to take a breath, his arm moving from your shoulder to cup the side of your face. “We’re okay.” He finished. The look in his eyes softened as he looked at you. Partially relieved, partially lost in the way yours still held onto the worry from before.

You don’t know when the gap between the two of you closed or when your shirt was pulled off, but as you started slipping down the headboard, your hands came up to wrap around him, trying to pull him closer. A small hiss came out of him and you realized you must have held a little too tight.

“Sorry,” You whispered with a small smile, one that he returned.

“It’s okay.” He chuckled, grabbing your hand and placing it on the top of his arm instead. You moved your other hand to match on the opposite side. “Just don’t squeeze too hard.”

“Are you sure you don’t want me on top?” You gave him a weak smile.

“That might be worse, actually.” He laughed before his lips were back on you. The hand that wasn’t supporting him above you trailed down to the waistband of your shorts, easily sliding under them.

He was always soft with you, but you learned to love it. With how hectic your everyday lives were, being able to enjoy some peace with him was more than welcomed.

“Hyunsu,” You whispered as his finger reached your clit, drawing slow circles while he leaned down to press kisses along your neck.

“Shh,” He smirked against you. “I know.” He slowly slid two fingers inside you, the kiss deepening as your hips worked to try and give him a better angle.

“I don’t want to wait.” You whispered. “I want more. I can take it.” You looked up at him pleadingly. He gave you a look that told you he didn’t trust you.

“So impatient.” He gave you a soft smile as he pulled his hand away. You almost spoke up but watched eagerly as slid to the end of the bed before getting up, taking your shorts and underwear with him.

He wasted no time spreading your legs. His fingers spread you open, and his tongue gave you a few kitten licks before flattening against you. His eyes flicked up to watch you, a small smile on his face when he saw your hand reaching for his hair.

You let your eyes fall closed as you tried to relax, but you couldn’t help the guilt that tugged at you. You should be taking care of him, but he was always so giving.

You could, however, feel yourself grinding against his face as his lips wrapped around your clit, sucking mercilessly. He brought his fingers back up to start where he left off and he couldn’t help but look up to watch you, his eyes staying on you this time.

He watched as your mouth parted in a silent moan as your eyes screwed shut. It was new to you for him to be fast paced and it was embarrassing how the change affected you. You couldn’t keep still and his free arm came around to grip on your thigh. Holding it down and open.

“Hy-Hyun-“ You felt yourself getting close, small whimpers of his name fell from your lips as your grip on his hair got tighter.

Until he pulled away.

“Don’t tell me he lets you cum that easily when you can’t even follow simple directions.” His tone was different and when you looked up, his eyes had blacked out. He scoffed as you tried catching your breath, his eyes turning blue. “Don’t be so surprised.” He smiled. “You should be glad I took over. He’s in no shape to be doing any of this.”

“How long have you been here?” You swallowed hard, your breath steadying some.

“Sweetie,” He tsked. “Don’t you remember his arm was hurt? How could he have possibly held you down like that?”

Your eyes widened in horror before you tried to pull your legs away from him. He was quick to stop you, pulling you back towards him.

“Maybe if you had listened to him better, I’d let you.” He tsked. “But with how much energy he used to save you, he’s not strong enough to come back right now.” He smiled down at you, and you hated that you felt yourself clench at the situation you were in. “So, I guess you’re stuck with me.”

You watched helplessly as he spread your legs again, pinning them down.

“Don’t look at me like that.” He smiled as he watched your reaction. “We both know you’re dying to have him be rougher with you.” His smile grew. “I could see it, y’know.” He narrowed his eyes at you as his finger trailed up your leg.

“When he’s on top of you, you never seem to be enjoying yourself.” His finger ran along your leg. “When he’s eating you out, you wish he wouldn’t pull away as soon as you cum.” He smirked, his other hand running up your opposite leg.

“You want to be used.” He emphasized the word by cupping his hand around you, his palm pressing deliciously against your clit. You couldn’t help but roll your hips into it.

“Even know.” He scoffed. “You know I’m not him, but you’re still turned on.” He tilted his head. “Is it him you really want?” He started, pressing against you harder, reveling in the whine you let out. “Or is it that you don’t have anyone else?”

“Shut up.” Your words were contradicting your actions. “If you were wearing anyone else’s face, this wouldn’t be happening.”

“He’s upset, you know.” He faked a sad tone, ignoring your statement. “He’s yelling at me, threatening me even, to take my hands off of you.” He watched you buck into his hand. “How about you tell him that you’re the one touching me?”

The thought of Hyunsu watching this pinged at your heart but it also turned you on. He didn’t want anyone else touching you. He didn’t want anyone else on you. But at the same time, it was him.

“It should be you watching.” You spat, trying your best to control your hips.

“I don’t think you’ve grasped the situation.” He let out an amused chuckle as he pulled his hand away. “I could have-“ He paused to correct himself as he crawled over you. “We could have died.” He narrowed his eyes at you. “And as much as he’s just glad you’re alright, I’m a bit pissed.” His face was right in front of yours. “Sure, it would take us a while to heal, but you could have died.”

“And I’d have to hear him mope about it for god knows how long.” He sighed. “So, you can deal with me,” He cocked his head to the side. “Or you can deal with an unconscious Hyunsu.” He cocked his head to the other side. “Your call.” He smirked. “But with how tight you’re gripping onto me I don’t think you want me to stop.”

You hadn’t noticed, but your hand had gripped onto his forearm at some point. The one that previously on you.

“Like I said.” You quickly snatched you hand back. “It’s because you look like him.” You spat. “I would never touch you.”

He laughed as he backed off, pushing himself off the bed in the process.

“You can act all you want.” He walked to the side of the bed. “But we both know you’re not as against me as you’re trying to be.” As he was talking, he let Hyunsu’s normal eyes come back. You could see a gash on his head disappearing. “Not when this pretty face is the one talking.”

You almost felt like you were cheating the way you felt yourself clench at nothing. You did wish Hyunsu was rougher. You did want him to stop treating you like you would break if he put any pressure on you. As you were lost in thought, he was on your side, his hands grabbing your face to make you look at him.

“I can hear your heartbeat speeding up, y’know.” His tone was cocky, and you almost forgot it wasn’t really Hyunsu. “I don’t know why he treats you like you’re so fragile.” He scoffed, squishing your cheeks so your lips were pursed, letting out a small laugh when your hands came up to slap his away. “It looks like you can handle yourself.”

“Besides,” He smiled, his eyes blue again. “Even if he comes back, you’ll still have to put up with me until he’s strong enough to hide me away completely.” He paused, his smile growing sinisterly wide. “You don’t want me to hurt him now, do you?”

“You wouldn’t.” Your eyes locked on his and he only chuckled.

“I could lock him up in here for as long as I like.” He pointed to his head, letting out a laugh. “Especially when you like being reckless enough to put him in that state.”

“Either way, you got what you want, now bring him back.” You ignored his comment, putting all your effort into trying your best to sound like you meant what you were saying.

“You think I’ve sat idly all this time that I’m going to settle for finishing something I didn’t start?” He chuckled as he undid the belt he was wearing.

“You want him back?” He scoffed again, pulling the belt free. “If you wanted him so bad you wouldn’t put his life at risk like that, now would you?” He said as he walked back towards you, motioning to your hands.

The threat against Hyunsu had you complying.

“If it wasn’t for me taking over, do you really think he’d be fine?” He faked a pout as he stretched the belt out and easily tied your wrists. He knew you knew the answer, but he still felt the need to continue. “There’s no him without me.”

He pinned your wrists above your head, smirking down at you as your breath hitched.

“You should hear him.” He whispered, his face right in front of yours. “Looks like you might get what you want from him when does get back.” He pulled away, making his way back to the end of the bed, his arms running along your legs before stopping at your thighs. His firm hold had your head spinning.

“But for now, we’re going to go over some rules, yeah?” He smiled, pressing kisses along the insides of your thighs. “If you can prove you learned how to listen, I’ll fuck you like you want.” He smirked as you struggled, letting Hyunsu’s normal eyes come back.

“And you can pretend it’s your pretty little boyfriend doing it.”

[biggestxsimps]

A Night with Izu

Third year Izuku x male reader!! (same age.)

A/N: This was requested on our wattpad. Hope you enjoy!!

It was your typical day at U.A High School, and Class 3-A busy with activities. Izuku was busy training with his classmates, pushing himself to become the greatest hero he could be. However, amidst all the hustle and bustle, something caught the attention of his friends.

As they gathered in the common room after training, Mina noticed a notification pop up on Izuku’s phone, which was lying on the table. Curiosity got the better of her, and she leaned in to read the message. Her eyes widened in surprise as she read ‘Can’t wait to see you this weekend love!’ -Y/N.

“Uh, Midoriya?” Mina called out, trying to sound casual before her excitement got the better of her. “Who’s Y/N?!” she called out, a small grin on her lips.

Izuku just returned from the kitchen, holding his glass of water in his hand tightly, almost dropping it. His face turned red. “Uh, It’s… uhm, well…”

Kaminari perked up, he was always up for gossip. He grinned and chimed in. “Come on, Midoriya! Spill the beans! Do you have a boyfriend?”

The room went silent as everyone turned to look at Izuku. He nervously fidgeted with his hands, avoiding eye contact. “Yeah, I do..” he admitted softly.

Within seconds, a bunch of questions erupted from his classmates.

“How long have you been together?” Uraraka asked, her eyes sparkling with curiosity.

“How did you meet?” inquired Iida, adjusting his glasses.

“What’s he like?” Todoroki asked, his expression calm, but his interest piped.

As questions followed each other, Izuku took a deep breath, trying to answer to the best of his ability. “A year nearly now. We met at a convention; he was showcasing his art last year. He’s really talented and popular.” he smiled

“That’s so cool!” Mina exclaimed, letting a soft laugh fall from her lips. “You should invite him over sometime.” She hummed out.

Izuku smiled shyly, reaching a hand up as he rubbed the nape of his neck. “Actually, he’s coming to visit this weekend..” he trailed off, his friends filled with excitement, continuing to ask questions throughout the rest of the week.

The weekend came quickly, and Y/N arrived at U.A, excited to see his boyfriend. He was greeted by All Might in the teacher’s room. 

“Welcome to U.A, young man.” Toshinori spoke up with a small smile. “Midoirya speaks very highly of you. It’s good that he has someone like you.”

“Thank you, All Might.” Y/N replied, feeling a bit starstruck. “It’s an honour to meet the symbol of peace himself..” he whispered.

“Likewise. Non-sense, no need for formalities. Call me Toshinori.” he spoke, making small talk with Y/N, impressed by his talent and rising popularity within the art industry. Eventually, he had to return to his duties, waving goodbye as he left Y/N to wait for Izuku.

Y/N pulled out his sketchbook, beginning to draw. His pencil moved deftly across the paper. He was drawing a detailed and dynamic piece featuring Izuku in action. The drawing depicted Izuku in his hero costume, mid-battle, with energy crackling around him as he released One For All. His expression is fierce, yet determined. Y/N added subtle details to the drawing, including a small heart in the corner, a personal touch that hindered his admiration for the other male.

“Y/N!” Izuku called out as he entered the room. 

Y/N looked up from his sketchbook, his heart skipping a beat at the sight of his boyfriend. He stood up and walked over to Izuku, pulling him into a gentle hug. "Izu," he responded fondly, holding him close for a moment.

"Sorry to keep you waiting," Izuku said, his cheeks still slightly flushed from training and excitement. "I had to finish a few things in class."

"It's okay, Izu. I was just working on a new piece," Y/N replied, holding up his sketchbook to show Izuku the drawing he had been working on. The detailed and dynamic piece of art.

Izuku's eyes widened in awe. "Wow, Y/N, this is amazing!" he said softly, feeling both proud and touched by Y/N's talent and dedication.

"I'm glad you like it," Y/N said with a smile. "I wanted to capture how incredible you are as a hero."

Just then, the door opened again, and the rest of Class 1-A burst into the room, unable to contain their excitement any longer.

"There he is!" Mina exclaimed, rushing over to greet Y/N. "Welcome to U.A! We've heard so much about you!"

"Yeah, Midoriya talks about you all the time," Uraraka added with a grin.

"It's nice to finally meet you," Todoroki said, extending a hand.

Y/N shook Todoroki's hand, feeling a warm sense of belonging. "It's great to meet all of you too. Izuku has told me so much about his amazing classmates."

After a lively evening filled with laughter and stories, the energy in the common room began to wind down. One by one, Class members headed to their dorms, leaving Izuku and Y/N alone, nestled comfortably on the couch.

The room was dimly lit, casting a warm glow over the space. Y/N and Izuku sat close together, their bodies intertwined under a cosy blanket. Y/N’s head rested gently on Izuku’s shoulder, his breathing slow and steady.

Izuku glanced down at Y/N with a soft smile. “You know, I’m really glad you came to visit. I didn’t realise how much I missed you until now.”

Y/N looked up, his eyes shimmering with affection. “I missed you too, Izu. Being here with you and your friends, it feels like I’m exactly where I’m supposed to be.”

Izuku’s heart swelled at Y/N’s words. He leaned in and placed a gentle kiss on the top of Y/N’s head. “I’m so lucky to have you.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed slightly, and he reached up to cup Izuku’s face in his hands. “And I’m lucky to have you.”

The two shared a tender kiss, their connection deepening in the quiet comfort of the common room. As they pulled away, Izuku wrapped his arms around Y/N, pulling him close.

“Do you want to stay like this for a while?” Izuku asked softly, his voice barely a whisper.

Y/N nodded, snuggling closer. “I’d love that.”

Masterlist

-Written by owner 2

[n0vazsq]

Eternal | LS2 x Reader

pairing . . . immortal!logan sargeant x time!traveller!reader

summary . . . Every era you went, you could never shake off the weird feeling of forgetting something, that is until you met Logan on one of your trips

request . . . no!!

word count . . . 1.4k+

warnings . . . none!

faceclaim . . . N/A

alexavia yaps . . . ok whyd this make me tear up a bit?? ALSO NOT MY LAPTOP FINISHING BATTERY WHILE I WAS MID EDITING

. . . The world spins differently when you travel through time. Everything blurs, twisting and contorting until all that’s left are distant moments, fragments of memories that slip through your fingers like sand.

You’ve never been sure why or how it happens, why you can’t remember where you’ve been or who you’ve been with. But one thing is always certain; no matter where you go, no matter what time you fall into, you’re always drawn to him.

Logan.

You’ve seen him before, in so many lives, in so many eras. In one, he was a gladiator; rough and fierce, blood staining his skin as he fought for his life.

In another, he was a knight, riding through the misty hills of the medieval countryside, his eyes full of honor and determination.

And in each of those lives, he was the same. Yet, you never remembered him, not truly. You met him again and again, but each time, you forgot. And it hurt.

The first time you saw him, he was standing in a gladiator’s arena, towering and proud, his muscles flexing with every swing of his sword. You were just a noblewoman, standing in the crowd, your heart caught in your throat as you watched the fight unfold.

There was something about him, something magnetic, that pulled you in. Your gaze never wavered from him, even when the crowd cheered and screamed. And when the battle ended, when his opponent lay defeated at his feet, your eyes met. There was a flicker, an unspoken recognition.

But by the time you saw him again, in another life, you had no memory of that first meeting. You had no memory of the way his smile made your heart race or the way his presence seemed to calm the storm inside you.

All you knew was that you were drawn to him, inexplicably and irrevocably, like a moth to a flame.

And so it went, through every era, every life you lived. In each new world, you forgot him, but he never forgot you.

It was in a quiet little town during the early 1900s that you met him again. The fog had rolled in from the sea, clinging to the cobblestone streets like a heavy blanket.

You had come to this town searching for something you couldn’t quite name, as you always did. Maybe it was peace, or love, or the pieces of your past that you had forgotten in the chaos of time. But when you stepped into that small coffee shop, you saw him.

He was sitting by the window, a cup of coffee in his hands, his fingers curled around the warm porcelain cup. He looked out at the street, his gaze distant, like he was waiting for something.

Or someone.

You walked in, and when your eyes met his, a jolt shot through your chest. There was something about him, something familiar, but you couldn’t place it. He stood up as you walked toward him, his expression softening as if he had been waiting for this moment, this exact moment.

"Hello," he said, his voice warm and inviting, his eyes studying you carefully. "You look… familiar."

"I do?" you asked, your voice hesitant, unsure.

He smiled then, a gentle, knowing smile. "Yes. I don’t know how, but I feel like I’ve known you for a long time."

You tilted your head, trying to make sense of it. His words, his presence, they felt like pieces of a puzzle you hadn’t yet solved. But you couldn’t deny the pull, the magnetic force that seemed to draw you toward him.

And so, you sat with him. The conversation flowed effortlessly between you two, as though you had known each other for years. You laughed together, spoke of dreams and desires, the hopes that flickered inside your hearts. You could feel yourself falling for him, even though you didn’t fully understand why.

But there was something in his eyes, something that hinted at a secret; a hidden truth he hadn’t shared with you. You wanted to know more, to learn what it was that tied you to him, but you couldn’t. He was always so careful, so guarded.

It wasn’t until that night, under the soft glow of the moonlight, when he pulled you into his arms, that he finally spoke the words you had been waiting to hear.

"I’ve been looking for you for so long," Logan whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "I’ve lived for centuries, hoping that one day, I’d find you again. And now, here you are."

You pulled back slightly, searching his face for any sign of doubt. "Centuries?" you asked, your heart pounding in your chest. "What do you mean?"

His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. "I’m not like other people," he said, his eyes darkening with a weight of unspoken words. "I’ve been alive for longer than I can remember, and each time we meet, you forget me. But I never forget you."

The statement hit you like a wave crashing against the shore. Your heart raced, a whirlwind of emotions tearing through you. He had known you all this time, across every life, and you had never remembered him.

"I-I forget?" you whispered, your voice trembling.

He nodded, his gaze soft and filled with longing. "Every time you travel, you lose your memories of me. But I never forget you. I can’t. I’ve loved you in every life, in every world, and I will keep loving you, no matter how many times we meet."

Tears welled up in your eyes, a mixture of sorrow and joy, of love that spanned across the endless expanse of time. "Logan," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I don’t understand… how is this possible?"

"I don’t know," he admitted, his voice raw with emotion. "But I know one thing for sure. I love you. And I will love you for as long as I can."

You closed your eyes, allowing his words to wash over you, to fill the empty spaces in your heart that you hadn’t even known were there.

You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand grounding you, reminding you that, despite the distance between your lives, you were never truly apart.

And then, without another word, Logan leaned in. His lips brushed against yours, soft at first, tentative, as if he was afraid that you might disappear the moment he touched you. But you kissed him back, deepening the kiss, letting the world fall away as you lost yourself in him.

His hands tangled in your hair, pulling you closer, as if trying to erase the years of separation between you. His kiss was hungry, desperate, as if he had waited lifetimes to be with you.

And in that moment, you understood; understood the gravity of his love, the depth of his soul’s yearning.

When the kiss finally broke, both of you were breathless, your hearts racing. Logan rested his forehead against yours, his breath shaky.

"I don’t know how much time we have," he murmured. "But I’ll take whatever moments we can have together."

You nodded, your fingers gently tracing the lines of his face, memorizing every detail, as if you might forget again. "I don’t care about time," you whispered. "I care about this. I care about you."

For a long moment, neither of you said anything. There was nothing left to say. The silence between you was comforting, like the calm after a storm, as you both allowed the weight of your love to settle over you.

But just as quickly as the peace came, it was broken by the familiar pull of time. You felt it; the tug in your chest, the sensation of everything shifting. You looked up at Logan, your eyes wide with panic.

"No," you whispered, as if the very word could stop it from happening. But it didn’t.

He pulled you into his arms one last time, kissing you deeply, desperately, before the world around you began to blur.

"I will find you again," he whispered, his voice barely audible as the world twisted, and you were torn from him once more. "I promise."

But even as the world spun out of focus, you could feel the warmth of his love, the promise he had made. And no matter where you went, no matter how far time took you, you knew that Logan would always find you.

Because love, true love, couldn’t be lost to the currents of time.

It was eternal.

 taglist . . . @barcapix ,, @f1lover55 ,, @ilovebarcaaa ,, @httpsdana ,, @paucubarsisimp ,, @justaf1girl ,, @awritingtree (lmk if you want to join the taglist!)

[hotchfiles]

Hi!! Happy 100th follower bash! I wanted to request Seth Cohen with the prompt “what if you just want something, and you want it so bad?” If you decide to write it, I can’t wait to read whatever you come up with. Thank you!!

lari's 100th follower bash + send me a prompt and one of my boys for a blurb

seth + “what if you just want something, and you want it so bad?”

three times seth let you go and the one he didn't

┊ ┊ ⋆˚ 

      You were his best friend, two little kids watching cartoons and drawing around while your parents drank wine and talked about things you both didn't understand.

      As days and weeks and months went by, the more the drinking wine encounters became something only your mother would do, frequently going to the Cohens to talk to Seth's mom.

      "Your mommy looks sad."

      "She cries a lot too, more than me."

      Divorce is the word that has been making your mother cry apparently, and soon it makes you and Seth cry as well. Divorce means you're going away to a new city with your mom.

      Seth can't do anything about it but hug you tight and hand you the collection of not really great drawings he made of you, for you.

┊ ┊ ⋆˚ 

      You come back for high school, thank God, your mother's job is much more demanding now and she feels your dad can be more present than she is.

      It's like you never left, you feel. Seth instantly clings to you like he did when you were children, except this time his mind is going a thousand miles per hour. He wasn't exactly expecting you to come back and now his mind is completely torn into Summer obsessive thoughts and you.

      You spend hours and hours watching terrible sci-fi tv shows, he's drawing (more often than not, you're the muse), while you read or write on your journal. It's silent and comfortable and people often tease you about how you're the only one to keep him quiet for so long.

      Seth doesn't understand it much either, but he enjoys watching you, the way you furrow your brows when you forget a word, or how you take a deep breath following a surprised sound when something happens in the book you're reading.

      He's been thinking about how at peace you make him feel and he has plans to ask you to homecoming, but some sophomore beats him to it. And he could ask you to go with him instead, drop the other guy. But your eyes almost close while you're smiling telling him about it, so he just lets it go.

┊ ┊ ⋆˚ 

      2.027 miles. 31 hours drive. 4 hour flight.

      Writing came to you as drawing came to him, you both had collab comic books even. He should've known you wouldn't go for Irvine or Berkley. Or any goddamned college in California with a creative writing program. No.

      Northwestern University. Illinois. He heard you gush about it all senior year, and doubting yourself, saying you wouldn't get in anyway. But you did, obviously, you had everything they required and everything any university could hope for in a student. He knew you would get in and he obviously couldn't ask you to stay for him.

      You were just friends.

      And even if you weren't, he would never stop you from going after your passions, what made you happy.

      He visits you when he can. You both kiss and make out and tell each other the sweetest things in whispers only you can hear in those times. Nothing more comes of it though, you're busy and two thousand miles away. He accepts it, he lets go of the idea of having you just yet.

┊ ┊ ⋆˚ 

      Enough is enough though. And when you tell him about the internship opportunity outside of the country you don't smile with your eyes like prom. Your tone uncertain, your whole body weight being held by his arms as you both laid down on your terrible dorm bed.

      And as always he wants you. He wants you so bad. He wants you to stay. To ask him to go with you. Like he wanted you to stay with your dad after the divorce. Like he wanted to be your date for homecoming. Like he's been wanting to call you his girlfriend, his partner, his lover, his wife even.

      "Is it bad to want something so badly?" he says more to himself than to you, really, but still you turn your head to him, using his chest as a support for your chin.

      "I mean... It's just an internship I don't want it that bad—"

      "That's not—I want to ask you to stay. With me. Don't go. And that's selfish." He keeps his eyes glued to the ceiling as if he hadn't just made your heart skip a thousand beats.

      "Then just ask me, funny boy."

      His grip to you tightens, if that's even possible, and he's finally able to not let it go, to not let you go.

[romiiq]

Her name Part 4 (final)

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Tw: sadness? Lmao

Rafe sees the post by accident—your hand, adorned with a ring that glints too perfectly in the sunlight, a smile shining even brighter. And the caption: Forever. He studies your fiancé. He’s tall, his head is covered in perfectly brushed waves, each strand catching the light in a way that highlights the effortless charm he exudes. Freckles dot his cheeks, giving him a boyish charm that complements his sophisticated demeanor. But it’s his eyes that draw the most attention—bright green and filled with warmth, they seem to sparkle with genuine affection every time he looks at you, making it easy to see why you chose him, makes it harder to hate him when he realizes why you seem so utterly happy standing by his side.

You’ve let yourself fall fully in love again, and it shows. Your Instagram paints a picture of quiet joy, shots of you laughing with the guy who looks at you as if you were his entire life—your head leaning on his shoulder, his lips pressing a kiss on your forehead. Every photo radiates a contentment that is undeniable, telling him that you have finally found a place to rest your heart.

It hits Rafe like cold water, his chest tight, as if he could feel the pull from miles away. He stares at your photos longer than he should, letting his mind wander back to the days when you once looked at him that way. He thought he’d left you behind, made peace with it, but now all those careful walls he built come tumbling down. He misses you. Desperately, even in that bittersweet way that’s tinged with regret and love that never quite faded. But he can’t reach out. He shouldn’t. You’ve moved on, just as he thought he had.

He breathes out, quiet. You are happy. And that has to be enough.

---

Y/N’s POV

The light is golden, spilling through the stained glass like a benediction, casting a soft glow over the congregation as you stand at the altar, heart racing. Nicholas’ hand is steady in yours, his grip warm and grounding. Your eyes glance at the familiar faces of your loved ones gathered in the pews. Each smile reflects the joy of this moment, and you can see your family beaming with pride, their eyes glistening with tears of happiness. Your closest friends, Sarah and Topper, who have supported you through every twist and turn, sit together, their smiles bubbling over as they exchange knowing glances. You smile, realizing just how right this feels.

As you stand at the altar, you find yourself captivated by the depth of Nicholas' eyes, a mesmerizing green that seems to hold the promise of your future, and for some reason you find yourself searching for a hint of blue on them. They sparkle with a mix of joy and determination, radiating warmth that grounds you in this sacred moment. Every sound around you fades into a soft blur, leaving only the rhythm of your heartbeat and the gentle whispers of your vows. Face to face, your fingers intertwined, as you finally hear the words you have been waiting your whole life for.

“I do”. He says, pulling you back to reality, and you can hear the love in his voice, his commitment echoing through the intimate space.

“Y/N, do you take Nicholas to be your lawfully wedded husband? Do you promise to love and cherish him, in good times and in bad, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for better or worse, and forsaking all others, keep yourself only unto him, for so long as you both shall live?”. The words of the officiant echo in the church as they wait for your response, and your soon-to-be husband squeezes your hands nervously.

“I do”. You say, feeling the ring slip on your finger and a wide smile spreads on Nicholas’ face as he steps forward urgently to kiss you, both of you closing your eyes to seal the promise to build a happy life together as the crowd bursts into happy cheers and applause. This is it, maybe this is how it's meant to be you think, maybe it's time to stop searching for a glimpse of Rafe in other people and focus on your new life, you say to yourself as you get lost in Nicholas’ lips.

---

Rafe’s POV

Rafe leans against a tree outside the churchyard, half-hidden among the leaves and shadows as the bells ring their triumphant chorus. He knows he shouldn’t be here. He’d convinced himself he’d moved on. But when Sarah had mentioned where the wedding would take place, he couldn’t shake the curiosity—or maybe the aching need—to see you, just this once, stepping into the future you’d once talked about, now with someone else.

Through the open doors of the church, he can see glimpses: the sweep of your white dress, your smile so wide it lights up the space around you. His heart clenches. You look every bit as beautiful as he remembered, even more so, with a happiness that radiates from you in a way he’s never seen before. You don't look back, don't glance toward the doors, and that hits him harder than he’d expected, the bells mock him as he thinks for a moment to burst into the church and tell you how much he loved you and loves you, he thinks about how he would tell you to run away from there together, and how he wishes you would say yes; and still with that urge he does nothing, too mesmerized to move a finger.

Rafe feels the pang of all you might have been. But he’d missed his chance, let you slip through his fingers, and you’d moved on, carving out your own path without looking back. His chest tightens as he realizes that maybe this was what you were always meant for—a love that wasn’t stained with regrets or almosts, with someone who could be everything for you, and you can be everything to that someone.

But still, he stays, watching as you take Nicholas' hand. He knows his name now, thanks to Whezzie, both smiles bright, so full of love and peace. This is what you need, he thinks. You are where you belong, finding a happiness that could sustain you—a happiness he knows, deep down, he could never have offered. His heart aches, but he wants this for you. He wants you to have this piece of forever, even if it means you’d have it with someone else. He swallows hard, feeling that familiar ache, that longing he’s carried for so long, but as Nicholas slips the ring on your hand, he finally feels a sense of closure. He allows himself one last look, whispers a silent goodbye that tastes like bittersweet relief, then turns and walks away as you kiss your now husband.

---

Years later

The world has turned, seasons became years, and now, in this sunlit beach, they find themselves on opposite sides, each surrounded by children’s laughter and the warmth of families reunited on a perfect Sunday. Y/N sits on a blanket watching her husband playing with their child and Rafe walks behind his daughter, watching her as his wife is buying ice cream.

Fate is whimsical, so it makes their eyes meet across the distance. For a moment, the world seems to stop. They freeze there, both hearts racing and time held in a shared silence that speaks volumes. She hasn’t seen him in years, yet he looks much the same—a little older, perhaps, his features softened by time and life, and in that brief exchange, they both see the echoes of everything they had once shared, the moments that had shaped them, even if they now feel like a different lifetime.

Time has softened the edges. There’s a quiet acknowledgement, a knowing smile, as though each of them holds the memory of what they once were like a folded letter in the corner of their heart. They were each other’s first, that kind of raw, intense love that once felt like it could swallow the world whole. Now, it’s a memory laced with nostalgia and a gentle, lingering ache, Rafe wonders if she ever thinks about him as he does sometimes, and Y/N wonders what would have happened if she ever answered his phone calls.

For a moment, they want to reach out, to speak, to ask how they have been. But they don’t. There’s no need. Their lives have become exactly what they were meant to be, or that's what they convince themselves. But in this silent moment, there’s a glance that speaks of all that was and all that still lingers, retracting their happiness for a second, feeling after years a glimpse of love for each other.

Heaven knows that it is enough for the two of them to have a closure, and so it sends her children calling her name, and his daughter tugging his hand, drawing them back to the lives they had chosen. They turned away with a last smile, just like that, back to their families. They move forward, each wrapped in a quiet acceptance that they had found joy, a different joy, in different places. And this is how it ends: a love lost but kept in that corner of the heart where they keep the things that were once their dreams.

.

.

.

.

.

[scribes-of-valar]

unexpected loyalties

Bilbo Baggins x fem!dwarf!reader (no beard)

a/n: based off the movie, not the books, just to clear that up if there is any book inconsistencies. First time writing for this fandom, and posting on this blog, let me know if I got anything wildly incorrect

Summary: Neither of you ever expected to like each other, let alone anything more. But you find yourself drawn to one another, despite the boundaries between you.

Another knock, he wasn’t sure he could handle many more visitors. Four dwarves were enough for him to want to run out of his home screaming. He tightened the ties of his robe, took a deep breath, and quietly prepared himself to turn down whoever waited outside his door. 

Yet, when it swung open his chest deflated and he found himself completely underwhelmed. He should be thankful that his doorstep was empty and that there were no more unwelcome guests to turn away. But he found himself incredibly confused. “Hm,” he pokes his head out slightly, looking around for stragglers. “Hello?” He calls out hesitantly. 

He jumps back as a woman leaps out of his rose bushes. “Oh!” You smile widely at him, shoving your hand out for a strong handshake. “Sorry about that, I thought I had the wrong hobbit.”

He gives your hand a brief shake, never one to forgo his manners. “I believe you do. In fact, you all do.”

Your face screws up in distaste and you look so forlorn he almost feels bad. Almost. “You are Mr. Bobbins aren’t you?”

He shakes his head with a scoff, “I am most certainly not. My name is Bilbo Baggins-”

You interrupt him with a relieved laugh. “Oh, apologies, then you are the hobbit I’m looking for. I’m afraid my cousin’s handwriting is nearly impossible to read. So the meeting is here, then?” You look at him expectantly, eyes wide and eager. 

Bilbo has to suppress the urge to stomp his foot and slam the door. He’s too old to be behaving like a child, but bebother and confusticate these dwarves he can take no more visitors! “There is no meeting here!” He snaps, nearly shouting in your face. 

Your brows furrow and you shake your head stubbornly. “They cannot have canceled it.” You seemed nearly as stubborn as him. You plant your feet, crossing your arms and glaring at him. “I would have been informed.”

Bilbo opens his mouth to inform you that no, nothing has been canceled because nothing has been scheduled. At least nothing he has been informed of. He knows this is all that blasted wizard’s fault. If only he’d stuck to his fireworks and simply left Bilbo alone, he would be having the peaceful evening he’d wished for. 

You narrow your eyes suspiciously, peering over his shoulder as something that sounds very old and sentimental breaks behind him. “Sorry about that!” A voice calls from his kitchen. Bilbo clenches his eyes shut, sucking in a sharp breath, and leans so you can’t see further into his home. 

“I do believe that was Balin’s voice,” you tell him, your voice low with an unspoken threat. “Mr. Bobbins-”

“Baggins.”

“Mr. Baggins,” you correct, “are my kin in there?” 

He shrugs, playing dumb and giving you a confused look. “And who,” he draws slowly, “would your kin be?”

You let out a heavy sigh. He doesn’t have any time to stop you as you nudge him to the side and shove your way into his home. “Thank you for the hospitality,” you mutter sarcastically. Your face lights up as you catch sight of an unruly blonde head of hair. “Fili! Kili!”

They call your name in return, rushing over to greet you. “Any trouble on the journey?” Kili asks as he takes your sword from you. He absentmindedly tosses it towards Bilbo who has to rush to catch it before it breaks something. 

“None at all, you know I’m a lot better at subtlety than the two of you are,” you tease. 

Bilbo’s eyes narrow as he takes you and the other dwarves in. You said your cousin sent you a letter. There was no possible way you could be their cousin. You didn’t look like any dwarf he had ever seen. Not that he had seen many, of course. There wasn’t enough gold or adventure in Hobbiton to bring many through. 

But he had heard the stories of dwarven women. How they were a dying breed, far more men than there were women. He also knew that it was incredibly hard to tell a wife apart from her husband, mainly because of the great big beards. 

You were taller than the others, far less hair, and simply not what he thinks when he pictures a dwarvish woman. “I see you met our host,” Fili nods towards Bilbo whose arms are now absolutely overloaded with the ridiculous amount of weapons you carry. Fili is clearly suppressing a slight smirk as he looks upon Bilbo. It’s hard not to feel a little offended. 

You turn back to Bilbo and frown, “Not a very welcoming host, these hobbits, are they?” Kili shakes his head, wrapping an arm around your shoulder and dragging you back towards the kitchen. 

Bilbo huffs and tosses the weapons to the floor with a put-off look. There’s loud cheering coming from the kitchen as the others greet you. He takes in a deep breath and sets his shoulders. Enough is enough. Clearly, there has been some mix-up. Whatever bearded reunion is taking place in his dining room is not meant for him. He’s just going to walk over to you all and inform you to take your business elsewhere. 

Bilbo only manages one step forward before a knock echoes through the front hall. It seems deafening, an ominous warning. He knows that if he goes to answer the door there will be no going back. These dwarves will be here to stay. He’s tempted to just ignore it, to usher you all out and slam the fence closed behind you. 

But then there’s a second knock, a third. He cannot simply ignore it, it’s too rude. Despite knowing better, he goes and answers the door. He’s nearly knocked over by a pile of stacked dwarves. He jumps back in shock, glaring down at them all. 

“That would be the rest of them,” you muse, appearing out of nowhere behind him. You grin at his affronted face, “Got any extra chairs?”

The Hobbit is certainly interesting. You struggle to find a kind word for him. He’s not exactly happy to have you all in his home. And you can’t entirely blame him, you and your kin aren’t the best guests. But Gandalf had told you all he was perfectly fine hosting the company in his hobbit hole. 

Though, you have a growing suspicion he wasn’t telling the whole truth if the wicked looks Bilbo is shooting him is anything to go by.  “Need a hand?” You ask, hovering in the entry of his pantry. 

He lets out a low sigh, just barely glancing over his shoulder at you. He stands amidst the wreckage of his once-great food stores. The rest of it is being bickered over in his dining room. If what Gandalf has told you is true and he is going to be your thief, then it shouldn’t matter. 

You’ve done him a sort of favor, clearing out his stores before the journey. No one wants to come back home to rot and mold having crept over all their food. But again, you’re starting to doubt the wizard’s words. He’s known for his tricks, but you didn’t think he would do something as sly as this. 

“I’m perfectly fine, thank you.” His voice is snippy, but he’s trying his best to be polite. You barely hold back a laugh at how hard he’s keeping up the pretense of being gracious. 

“Don’t be stubborn,” you insist, moving past him and grabbing a broom. “I don’t mind. Durin knows we aren’t a clean people.” He gives you an odd look as you start to sweep the mess up. He stays firmly planted in his spot, gaze tracking you. You try not to grow uncomfortable at his intense stare but it is hard. 

“You are a dwarf, then?”

Your face screws up in irritation and you shoot him a severe look. He lets out a slight whimper, whirling around and pretending to be fascinated by his shelves. “Yes,” you grit out, “I am. Despite the oddities in my appearance, I am a dwarf.”

He whips back towards you, face drawn tight in confusion. “Oddities?” He demands.

“Look at me,” you gesture to yourself, feeling a tight ball wind itself up in your throat. “No beard, too tall, I might as well just be a short human. I’m practically repulsive.”

His jaw drops and he stares at you for a long while. You can feel the judgment, and can practically hear his thoughts as he wonders at how ugly you are. Bilbo’s mouth opens and shuts multiple times before he lands on a squeaky, “Repulsive. That’s ridi-”

“There you are!” Gandalf’s head dips into the pantry and he gives you both an impatient smile. “We are waiting for you, Master Baggins,” he says your name and you nod. You throw the broom back in place and shove past them both, swallowing down tears. 

They watch you go with varying degrees of shock. “My word, what did you say to her?”

Bilbo snaps his jaw shut and shakes his head, “I might have brought up how peculiar it is that she doesn’t have a beard.”

Gandalf nods sagely, as though this is something he has experience with. “Sensitive topic for young dwarvish women.”

“Shouldn’t we wait for him?” You hiss to Kili as you all leave the tavern. You’d written Master Baggins a note, promising to wait for him in the Green Dragon Inn. If he didn’t make it by 11 AM, you would all leave. But Thorin was demanding your leave early, it didn’t seem fair to not give Bilbo a chance. 

Fili glances towards Thorin, making sure he’s not listening to the three of you. “Best not to argue with him. He’s been upset since the meeting in the north.”

You sigh, mounting your horse and falling into line with them. “I don’t blame him. They claim to be brothers, yet won’t come to our aid.”

“Watch, once we reclaim our home, they’ll all be demanding payment from the stores of Erebor.” You cannot help but agree with Kili. You are a greedy people, there’s no denying it. The lust for gold, at times, can rival that of a dragon’s. But you were loyal, to a fault. How could they abandon you all so readily?

You look towards Thorin and feel yourself deflate. He has been different since the stirrings of the journey were brewing. More prone to anger, and quicker to draw his blade. Something dark awakes within him when he thinks of Erebor. Reclaiming your home will benefit you all, but you cannot help but fear the dragon that lurks beneath its bones. 

Not the actual dragon, yes that’s terrifying, but the curse that lays over that gold could spell all your doom. You’d watched as it happened to one king, you don’t want to see another fall to the sickness. 

You’re about to ride up to Thorin when you hear a voice shouting wildly behind you all. “Wait! Wait!” You glance over your shoulder, a grin slowly spreading across your lips. Bilbo chases after the company, waving his contract in the air. 

Thorin frowns, bringing you all to a halt. Bilbo slides to a stop beside Balin. “I signed it,” he pants out, holding the contract out. The older dwarf frowns suspiciously, taking it from him and examining it through his lens. 

After a moment he nods at Thorin, “He signed it,” he reaffirms. Thorin glances towards Bilbo and you can’t tell if he’s going to honor his word or not. 

After a tense pause, Thorin finally nods, “Give him a pony.” Bilbo shakes his head and waves him off. 

“No, that won’t be necessary,” he insists. “I’m perfectly fine walking. You know I almost made the trek to-” Kili and Fili lean down and grab him by the jacket, hoisting him atop a pony. 

They both sport sore frowns as you ride up beside them. “I do believe I’m owed something, gentlemen.” You hold your palms out expectantly, Bilbo gives you an odd look as they both slam their gold into your hands. 

“What’s that?” He wonders as they ride off. 

You smile down at him, “You’ve just made me a rich woman, Master Baggins. They had a bet, about whether or not you would show.”

His brows raise and he narrows his eyes at you. “You thought I would come?”

You laugh, “Obviously.” You chuckle a little and toss him one of the pouches, “Here. It’s only fitting you should have some.” You nudge the side of your mare, urging her forward. Bilbo watches as you ride off, face furrowed in confusion as he rolls the gold around in his palm. 

He doesn’t know why you believing in him means so much, but it does. 

“Something caught your eye?” Bilbo startles from his thoughts and turns towards Balin. The old dwarf smiles slightly, glancing over Bilbo’s shoulder towards you. Bilbo flusters, stuttering slightly on his words as he shakes his head. 

“No,” Balin raises a brow and Bilbo shakes his head harder, scoffing. “No, not at all. I was only lost in thought.” Unwittingly, Bilbo’s gaze drifts back towards you. You’ve stripped off the heavy leathers of the day and are leaning over the fire, stirring some stew. 

The light of the fire casts you in a sort of glow. You could be mistaken for an elf by someone passing by. You tuck a braid behind your ear, standing up and glancing around camp. When your gaze drifts past him, he’s quick to turn back around. 

Balin is staring expectantly at him, giving him a cheeky smile. Bilbo’s quick to change the subject, not wanting to fan the flames of Balin’s assumption. “Are there other dwarf women,” he points vaguely towards you, “like her, I mean?”

Balin shakes his head, puffing on his pipe. “No, no one quite like her. She’s a fierce fighter and an even fiercer friend. She’s been working hard to campaign for this journey.”

“No,” Bilbo glances back towards you, ensuring you’re not listening. You’ve walked off, looking towards the ponies with a confused expression. “I mean, physically,” he rubs over his chin, miming where a beard is meant to be.

Balin huffs out a laugh. “No, it’s quite rare for any of us to be without beards. I don’t recommend bringing it up to her, it’s quite a sore subject. We think there might be some human blood, maybe even an elf somewhere down her line. It’s the only explanation for it.” He shakes his head with a sad smile, “A shame, truly.”

Bilbo continues to find himself more and more confused by his company. The way they speak of you, you’d think you were a troll, not a woman. “A shame? She’s,” he hesitates on the word, worrying it might be inappropriate. “She’s quite pretty,” he lands on.

Balin shrugs like there’s nothing to be done about it. “By any standard other than a dwarf’s. You have to understand, laddie, she’s a dwarf, despite appearances. No beard, too tall, she’s not pretty, as you said, to her people.”

Bilbo thinks it’s a horrible shame that you’re going to go through your whole life believing yourself to be some hideous creature. In truth, you’re one of the most beautiful women he’s ever met. He finds himself distracted every time your eyes meet his. 

“Bilbo,” you pop up behind him, scaring him as you seem to be doing. You smile slightly and nod towards the edge of camp. “Come with me?” Bilbo’s eyes widen as he follows after you. For a horrible moment, he thinks you’ve heard his and Balin’s conversation. 

You lead Bilbo into an outcrop of trees, there’s a little bit of firelight shining through ahead. His suspicions shift and he wonders if something else hasn’t gone wrong. Kili and Fili both stand by an overturned tree, peering over it and staring at something. Bilbo can’t see what it is from where he stands. 

You stop beside them both, turning towards him and giving him an apologetic smile. “We need your help-”

“We were meant to be watching the ponies,” Kili interrupts. 

“We’ve encountered a slight problem,” Fili motions toward the tree and Bilbo comes up to join them. “We had sixteen,” Bilbo looks to the pen where the ponies were being held and frowns.

“Now there’s fourteen,” you sigh, rubbing a hand over your face and glaring at Kili and Fili. 

“Oh no,” Bilbo frets. He counts the ponies again, just to ensure that you all didn’t make a mistake. “Should we not tell Thorin?”

Your face blanches and you share a panicked look with the brothers. “No,” Fili quickly butts in. “No reason to worry him. You are, after all, our burglar. We thought you might be able to help us.”

“We think we know where they went,” you tell him. Bilbo glances between the three of you and not for the first time he wonders how he got himself mixed up with this adventure. 

Trolls, trolls you could handle. Being tied up and thrown in a sack, nearly roasted alive and eaten. All of that was palatable. However, being hosted by elves was not. You sit at Elrond’s table and glare down at the vegetables before you. 

Elves, you almost scoff as one of them dances by you with a flute. They think they’re so much better than dwarves, so much more sophisticated. You wouldn’t be surprised if they were born with that haughty look on their face. 

It’s difficult to have an appetite when you have a rabbit’s dinner in front of you. It’s even harder when you’ve got Elrond’s men glaring holes into the back of your head. None of them trust you. And not because they expect you’re going to rob them. They simply don’t trust your table manners. 

A bread roll thunks against your cheek and you grimace. You pick it up, tossing it back at Dwalin and laughing as it knocks his salad into his lap. Well, they might have good reason to doubt your table manners.

You sigh, bored of your meal and tired of all the noise. You stand from the table, slipping away from the others. Thorin catches your eye as you leave, giving you a brief nod farewell. You head down the stairs, toward the pond you saw earlier. Perhaps, while everyone else is eating and arguing with each other, you can cleanse yourself. 

It’s been a long while on the road. Scrubbing yourself with rainwater hasn’t exactly done a wonderful job of keeping you clean. You’re used to always being on the move, but you’ve been able to settle down nicely enough in the mountains. It feels a little odd to be adventuring once more. 

You can practically smell the elves' magic permeating the air around you. It’s light, it feels like a weight being removed from your shoulders. It tastes like something sweet dancing along your tongue.

As much as you despise Thranduil and his kingdom for abandoning your people, a part of you has to admit that Elrond held no part of that. They did not offer you aid or a place to rest, but he had no reason to. It’s wrong to hold your bitterness against him. 

And it does not make a good king to so stubbornly reject Elrond’s help. You worry for Thorin, worry for his sanity when it comes to returning to Erebor. He’s so like his grandfather, it wouldn’t be so difficult for him to succumb to the same sickness Thror had. 

You drag your fingers lightly over the marble of the elves' home. It’s impressive, the way the forest manages to grow through their walls. Their architecture is something to be admired, even if it is not as grand as Erebor once was. 

You stumble upon the pond and strip out of your clothes. You dive into the pristine waters and are surprised when you feel no chill on your skin. The water is warm and it eases your aching bones. The stress melts away from your tightened muscles. If you weren’t so skeptical, you’d think the water held a magic of its own. Then again, Elrond’s Last Homely House is renowned for the healing capabilities it provides, perhaps it does.

You swim for a while, stretching your limbs and floating along the surface of the water. The sky darkens above you and the stars appear.

The view on the road is always gorgeous and usually left unblanketed by clouds. But this is absolutely breathtaking. You feel as though you could reach up and steal a star for yourself. 

You pull yourself onto the shore of the pond and find that your clothes have been taken. A white, gossamer gown hangs on the branch of a tree, and your brows furrow. “Elves,” you hiss with disdain. You wonder which one of the flighty things had left this while you’d been swimming. You’re sure whoever it was got quite the show. You pull the gown on and ponder going back to the others. 

You can hear their laughter from here. You know they’ve probably found food that you can actually stomach but you can’t bring yourself to leave the peaceful serenity of the water just yet. 

Bilbo does not want to admit that he was looking for you. He simply dismisses the idea as wanting to explore more of Elrond’s home. After all, he’s never gone further than the shire. He’d had the desire to, once, when he was a child. He’d all but abandoned that for the comfort of home. 

He can see why he had once wanted to see the elves so badly. The entire place is filled to the brim with magic and people older than the oak trees surrounding the Shire. He seems to be the only one recognizing how truly wonderful this place is. He knows the others all want to leave. He can see how restless they are the longer they stay. 

He wonders if you feel the same way. He cannot tell, he finds it harder to read you than he does the others. He doesn’t know if it’s because he’s afraid of thinking of you for too long or if you are simply an enigma to him. 

He ascends the stairs, gazing out at the forest and smiling as the breeze brushes against him. Something catches his eye by the glittering waters of the pond and he frowns. He peers further over the railing and spots what must be another elf. They’re surrounded by starlight, basking in the glow of the night. Their beauty is nearly breathtaking. 

Imagine his surprise when they turn and it’s you. His eyes widen infinitesimally and he backs away from the rail before you can see him. Why does he keep mistaking you for an elf? 

Bilbo finds himself moving before he really thinks about what he’s doing. Your back is to him as you drape yourself along one of the rocks near the shore. Your toes dip slightly into the water and he can just barely hear you humming to yourself. 

He’s caught completely off guard by the sight of your hair. Damp and curling, it lay along your back without any braids. It’s the first time he’s seen any of the dwarves without a braid in their hair. He doesn’t have a vast amount of knowledge of your culture, but he feels as though it’s taboo to have your hair unbound like this. 

He clears his throat awkwardly and you shoot up in surprise. Your hand drifts to your hip where he’s sure there’s usually a dagger. Tonight, though, you are wholly unarmed. The thought doesn’t seem to bring you much comfort as you narrow your eyes at him. 

“Bilbo,” you call out, slightly breathless. “You scared me.”

He gives a strained smile and laughs, taking a hesitant step towards you. You sit up straighter and beckon him closer. He obliges embarrassingly fast, taking a seat beside you at the edge of the pond. He doesn’t even mind as moisture and mud stain his pants. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, voice light and tired. 

“I was going for a walk,” and wondering where you had gone, he thinks to himself. But that is not something he is ready to admit to you, yet. You’re still practically strangers. 

“It’s beautiful here, isn’t it?” 

He nods and the question that’s been lingering in his mind slips out. “How do you know Thorin?” You give him a confused look and he quickly adds, “You’re the only woman in the company, I’m only curious.”

“Oh,” you smile slightly and look towards the water. “I believe he’s my distant uncle, possibly a few times removed.” He frowns and you laugh, “The family tree grows a tad confusing. We’d gone through a long list of kings named Durin and the familial relations got hard to keep track of. It’s possible we might not share blood at all. But the dragon had left me orphaned and I was raised alongside Fili and Kili, blood or no, we’re family.”

There’s a faint smile on your face as you speak of the others and it makes a small one form for him. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “losing your family, it must have been incredibly hard.”

You shake your head, shrugging his apology off. “No need, I was too young to truly remember them. Besides,” you gesture towards the balcony above and you both listen as the others laugh, “I’ve got more than enough now.”  

It’s admirable, how loyal you all are to each other. Bilbo’s almost envious of your bond with the others. It’s clear each of you would die for your king, for your home. It’s a dedication and purpose he has never had. 

“Do you miss the shire?” You ask, curious and not accusing as Thorin often is. “I imagine life on the road is nothing compared to the comforts of home.”

“Yes,” he answers so quickly it makes you both laugh. Your face lights up when you smile and you smile so little. But when you do, it makes his breath catch. He grows even happier when he’s the reason for it. 

“I do miss home. But,” he leans in and you follow, smirking like you’re sharing a secret. “I must admit, adventuring is not as bad as I once thought.”

“Ah,” you lean back, “we’re poisoning you Master Burglar. Soon you’re not going to want to go back.” Well, Bilbo would not go so far as to say that, but you do have a point. The recklessness of the dwarves has seemed to be influencing him, just a tad. 

“Well,” he hums and shakes his head slightly. He catches the teasing smile on your lips and doesn’t bother correcting you. “Maybe,” you look a little surprised that he played along and it only makes him more amused. 

His eyes drift towards your hair before looking back at you. You give him a self-conscious smile, idly running a hand over the strands. “I took them out to bathe, I didn’t have the energy to rebraid.”

He speaks before he can even think. Perhaps it is the joy of being alone with you that loosens his tongue so foolishly. “I could braid it for you.”

Your eyes widen with shock and you ever-so-slightly flinch back from him. “Do you,” you clear your throat, practically gaping at him. He doesn’t know what about what he just said is so appalling to you but he wishes he’d just never spoken at all. “Do you mean that?”

“Well,” he mutters lowly, “I suppose. Yes,” it sounds more like a question than anything. He can’t help but wonder what he just offered in your culture. 

You blink rapidly, pushing your shoulders back and straightening. “Alright,” you whisper and there’s a giddy grin on your lips that he can’t help but be suspicious of. “I’d love it if you would.”

He gets to his feet, moving to stand behind you and idly running his hand through the damp strands of your hair. He doesn’t do many, just enough to keep your hair out of your eyes as you’re on the road. But you seem to get more and more restless with each one he adds. 

Finally, when he’s done, he takes a step back and gives you a strained smile. “There you are.”

You get to your feet, running your hand over the braids. “Oh,” your eyes widen as you feel them. “You put quite a few.”

He glances away from you and looks to the tree beside him like might hold the answers to this bizarre encounter. “Was I not meant to?”

You shake your head rapidly and wave him off. “Oh, no, this is wonderful.” You wince and give him a strained smile, “I mean, it’s good. Thank you,” before he can question you on your odd behavior you run off. He watches with a furrowed brow as you rush up the stairs to the dwarves' quarters. 

He’s absolutely bewildered as he makes his way up a moment later. He can’t imagine what he could have done to offend you simply by offering to braid your hair. When he makes it to the quarters, he’s not greeted with the rowdy laughter and loud conversation he was expecting. 

Instead, the majority of the dwarves are huddled around the fire, whispering lowly amongst themselves. When he walks in each of them turns towards him so quickly he nearly runs back out of the room. He can’t imagine what he could have done to have warranted such odd reactions from both you and the company. 

“Er,” he skirts around them, or attempts to at least, “good night.”

“Bilbo,” he clenches his eyes shut, sighing as Thorin calls his name. Whatever he had done, any attempts at escaping the consequences are thrown out the window. He turns towards Thorin who's standing in the corner, away from the others. He waves him forward. 

Bilbo feels very much like a child about to be scolded as the others watch him move towards Thorin. Thorin glances towards the others and lets out a heavy sigh. He walks outside and Bilbo follows him down the stairs and back to the path he was on before. 

“I doubt you know what you’ve done,” Thorin grumbles bitterly. He looks to Bilbo who only shakes his head. “Braids mean a great deal to us, I don’t imagine they hold much meaning for hobbits.”

“No, they don’t.” Bilbo glances back towards the balcony, and he sees you standing there. The moonlight still shines down upon you and he still can’t fathom that you would ever believe yourself to be anything but beautiful. 

“She is young, but she’s not a fool. I’m sure she knows that you didn’t mean anything by giving her courting braids,” Thorin emphasizes the words with a severe look. Bilbo curses his foolishness under his breath. He can’t believe he’s done something so stupid. “Did you?” Thorin asks. 

Bilbo shakes his head quickly, “No, of course not. I didn’t-”

“Know,” Thorin finishes for him. “I know. Could you?”

Bilbo looks up at him with a confused scrunch to his face. “Could I… what?” he asks hesitantly. 

“Could you ever care for her like that?” Bilbo goes to answer but Thorin interrupts him before he can. “She’ll never have any luck with her own people, not with the way she looks. If anyone did marry her, it would only be so they could be closer to the king and I don’t want that for her. I’m not asking you to marry her Master burglar, I’m only asking if you’d ever consider it.”

Thorin leaves Bilbo standing right back at the pond. He goes back to join the others and when Bilbo turns to watch him go, you wave at him from the balcony. He considers what Thorin said, and considers how he feels every time you two get a chance to be alone. 

He entertains the idea for a moment, but it's foolish. Even if he was truly in love with you, you were two completely different people. You were used to the road, always looking for a new adventure. Bilbo knew he would only ever have one great adventure in his life. His heart would always call him back to the Shire, back to home. 

He smiles and waves back at you. He watches you go back inside and he stays by the pond, thinking of what it could be like. 

The last time you see Bilbo is at Thorin’s funeral. You’re consumed by your grief and can’t spare him any attention. Three men to be mourned. The last of your true family is dead while another sits the throne that Thorin had earned. 

You can’t help but weep over their bodies, can’t help but leave the room so you won’t have to look at them any longer. You run from the procession, and that’s when you see him. Slipping away from everything like a proper thief. 

“Bilbo?” You call out, your voice is watery and thick. He lingers by the entrance of the mountain. His shoulders jump to his ears as he tenses at the sound of your voice. He turns back to you, offering you a weak smile. “Leaving?” You question, a weak tease lying somewhere in your tone. 

He nods, “I thought it would be better like this.”

“You didn’t think we’d want to say goodbye?” Bofur’s voice echoes behind you. You turn to find the others all standing there, watching as Bilbo tries to leave. You must not have been the only one unable to stomach seeing another wearing the crown. 

Dain had fought for you all, he’d come to your aid when you needed him most. He’d earned the title of king. But that didn’t make it an easier pill to swallow. 

Bilbo laughs sadly when he sees the rest of the company. You’re sure he thought it would be less painful to simply leave you all. But you needed some sort of closure with him. Even though you’d always known that nothing could ever truly happen between the two of you, you still weren’t ready to let go. 

“If any of you are ever passing Bag End,” he pauses, swallowing thickly, “tea is at four. There’s plenty of it.” His gaze drifts towards you and you can’t bring yourself to meet his eye, “You are always welcome.”

You only know he’s gone when you hear his footsteps retreating. Pain and heartache make a coward out of you. You don’t chase him or call out to him as you should. You watch him leave and you let him go. 

One Year Later

The clock chimes just half past four and a knock rings out through Bag End. Bilbo frowns, head lifting from the map he’s working on. He pauses and his home remains silent. He shakes his head, dismissing it as a hopeful illusion. Just as he places the quill back on the parchment another rapid set of knocks ring out. 

This time it’s persistent. It grates on him as his door rattles from the force. Bilbo huffs, “A moment, please!” He snaps, glaring at whoever lurks behind his door. Another impatient knock and he wonders if it would be wrong to get Sting out of the chest by the door. 

He stomps towards the door, grabs the knob, and throws it open, “What-”

He cuts himself off, eyes widening and face going slack with shock as you smile at him. You’re here. You’re here and standing before him and he almost wonders if he’s dreaming of you again. 

“Master Bobbins?” You tease, a watery laugh leaving your parted lips. 

“What-” he stutters and stumbles over his words, not even sure what to say. He’s barely processed the fact that you’re even here. 

You shrug, “I’m sorry I’m so late. I was hoping to get here at four but Bofur had some problems on the road,” you cut yourself off and give him a breathless laugh. “I was hoping you wouldn’t mind if I stayed a while.”

Bilbo can only smile, something thick and choking hanging at the back of his throat. He feels his chest tighten and he shakes his head. “Please,” he breathes out, “stay.”

You grin at him, tears brimming at the corners of your eyes as you take a step inside. “You planted the tree,” you point out, looking toward the sapling growing by his home. 

“It reminds me of,” he trails off. It reminds him of everything. Thorin, the adventure, all the friends he’d left behind. You. You nod, not needing words to understand him. “What are you doing here?” He asks, not yet having processed what you’d said.

“I thought it was time for a different adventure,” you tell him, your hand grazing against his as you smile at him. You walk into his home and Bilbo closes the door behind you, already thinking of a million ways your adventure could begin. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the book/movie The Hobbit, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © scribes-of-valar 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[acerathia]

drowning in you || Rafayel | Qi Yu

Summary:

Valentinesday doesn't work out, does it?

Wordcount: 2.5k

Read on AO3

Pairing:

Qí Yù | Rafayel / Reader | MC

Tags/CW:

established relationship, dancing and kissing in the rain, flirting, bathing and washing each other, non-sexual intimacy, references(spoilers) to Mainstory and Myth, Moles as lasting kisses from the last life, implied sexual content after fic, domestic fluff

Note:

Happy Valentines!! I wrote this bc I go insane for him oops

With a little smile, you let your phone slide back into your bag. Rafayel has told you to come to the park nearby, and you wonder what he’s planning, hopefully not another trip on a boat, the simple memory makes you shiver. After that incident, you would never trust him with an oar ever again. But because you’re supposed to meet him at the entrance of the park, you assume it must be something slightly drier.

– where r u? ive been waiting for ages

omw! close to the entrance of the park –

You round the last corner, and immediately spot his figure, arms crossed, close to the park. For a moment, you take your time to look at him, the way the sun shines between his hair, giving him some sort of underwater feeling. But you can’t help but squint when you notice his attire, one you have seen before, one Rafayel usually wears when meeting for some art stuff of his. You brush it off, it’s usual for him to wear something that draws the eye, being an artist and all, he does love showing his aesthetic with his clothes.

He seems to have sensed you, because he turns in your direction, and while you smile at him and hurry your steps to get closer to him, his lips push slightly forward.

“Finally, I thought you had forgotten about me! Did you look at the time? It’s been ages, I feel like I’m about to see fish walk on land,” he mutters the moment you stop in front of him.

“Well, I think I already see one,” you grin, before cupping his cheeks carefully. “In fact, this fish is right in front of me.”

The pout doesn’t disappear entirely, but it does soften as he leans closer to your skin. “See? I was right, you’ve left me waiting for too long.”

A huff of breath hits your face softly before he straightens up, not even waiting for your answer as he takes your hand in his, entwining your fingers together. “It doesn’t matter, you’re here now. Let’s go.”

Hand in hand, you both enter the park, and follow the path for quite some time. You have no idea what Rafayel wants to show you, so you only walk by his side, simply enjoying this quality time while looking around the place in peace.

The park seems huge, as before you both even arrived at his set destination, you begin to feel something cold hitting your head. You scrunch your face and look up, only for a drop of water to hit your cheek, your eyelids. You blink in surprise as the rain falls, multiplying with each second, with each step.

A groan, and your gaze immediately flicks to Rafayel, who’s gingerly holding a hand over his head. “Great, now everything is ruined… Did the weather forecast make a mistake? I even checked it for today” He turns to you and meets your eyes. “Let’s go back, c’mon.”

He sighs, disappointment apparent in the way his shoulders slump. “I guess, we’re going to make it up another time… Let’s hurry up and escape this annoying rain.”

You squeeze his hand as you follow his brisk steps into the direction you both came from. “It’s okay, spending time with you is more than enough for me.”

Your words only seem to make him walk faster, the rain hitting your face softly, and you can’t help but slow down slightly.

Laughing, you can’t help but tease him. “But let’s slow down a bit. You’re not going to turn into a mermaid the moment water touches you, are you?”

He turns around to face you, his face scrunched up in a pout. “How ridiculous! That only happens in those TV series. And we’re both already wet, wouldn’t it be too late to consider that anyway?” He cocks his head to the side, before a smug look takes over. “Unless you want me to turn into one to ogle at me, hm? Wouldn’t you like that?” With these words, he leans closer towards you, a grin over his plush lips.

Your eyes flick towards them before returning to his eyes, his lashes clumped and longer with the dripping water. You feel a heat creeping up your neck, and now you’re the one with a small pout on your lips. For a moment, you don’t have any comebacks, so you decide to do what always works the best.

Your free hand grabs his shoulders and you stretch slightly towards him. Your lips meet his. And despite the cold water, his skin is warm against yours. Without missing a beat, his arm sneaks around your waist, pulling you closer, stealing another peck before you could fully pull away.

Once there’s some space between your faces, you can’t help but grin at the redness spreading over the tips of his ears, but you want to see that color over his cheeks. So, you put your lips against his cheeks, closer to his ears.

“Of course I want to see you naked,” you whisper at him, and he immediately pulls away, the color bleeding into the rest of his face.

He holds his hands in front of his face, shielding it from your view. “Wh-what are you talking about?” he stammers, taking a small step back.

You can’t help but think how adorable he looks this flustered, but you stop teasing him, as the rain makes you feel cold, and you imagine he starts feeling the same. Taking his hand once again, you step closer to him and let your forehead rest against his chest.

Almost immediately, despite his embarrassment, his arm winds up against you, his face hot against the skin on your neck. Your other hand comes up to stroke through the wet strands of his hair, now closer to a darker blue when soaked like this.

You don’t know who starts it, but you both begin to slightly rock, a small dance under the rain, interlocked, heart against heart, listening to a tune only you both could hear.

“Let’s go home…” you whisper against his skin, feeling the goosebumps over it.

A sigh on your own skin, and he straightens up, his gaze wandering over your face, filled with something complex, something that warms you despite the cold seeping into your clothes.

Once he nods, you both are on your way again, heading towards the closest apartment of one of you. It doesn’t take long, and you’re glad to be out of the rain, because the moment you enter your home, the rain picks up, the wind sweeping over the streets. You really don’t want to know how it feels to be there.

Soaking wet, you begin to strip yourself of your shoes and socks. “I’m going to take a shower to warm up,” you tell him, and without words he just follows you on your heels.

It’s a burdensome task to get rid of the wet clothes sticking to your skin, but you manage it nonetheless. The heat of the turned on water is already spreading through the air, and you’re almost excited to get under it. With your focus on the upcoming warmth, a squeak of surprise escapes you, when you feel his cold fingers around your waist, his lips against the back of your neck.

You turn your head slightly towards him and kiss the corner of his lips, your fingers intertwining with his, before you fully turn around, your fingers carefully helping him out of his wet clothes, scattering soft kisses here and there over his cold skin. After that, you wordlessly pull him with you to stand under the warm rain of the shower.

For a moment, you let the heat seep into you, relax your muscles, before you grab the shampoo bottle. But instead of slathering it onto your own hair, you motion for him to lean down. Once he does, you put a good portion of the shampoo into his hair, and begin to massage it in, spreading it over his scalp and hair. You watch as he closes his eyes, leaning closer to you.

After you’re thoroughly done, you let him lean his head under the water once again, rinsing the shampoo out of his hair with soft strokes, your hands taking care of each strand, massaging his scalp. Once everything is truly gone, you grab one of your conditioners to take a bit of into your hands, spreading them over your palms before you begin to rub it into the ends of his hair.

A low hum sounds from him and he shuffles a little closer, his hands finding your waist, as always, keeping them there to anchor himself.

Allowing the conditioner to set, you grab his loofa, the one he has deposited ages ago, making himself at home in your home, sharing it with you. Making sure the foam has spread properly all over it, you begin to gently scrub his skin, his shoulders, his arms. You can’t help yourself but scatter some kisses here and there, on his jaw, on his neck.

Coming up to his chest, your eyes lock onto the tiny mole there. “Did you know, some people say that moles are an indication of where our past love has kissed us, over and over again,” you whisper against his skin before kissing the mole softly. “I will love you, for all of my lifetimes, over and over again… And I want to give you something to remember this one, and every one after…”

You’re vaguely aware that you have met Rafayel in your last lifes. And even if your memory is hazy, pieces coming up to you in blurry dreams, you know that you have loved him, and you will continue to love him, for as long as time allows you to exist.

You look up to him, his eyes wide, glazy with swirling emotions. Instead of saying anything, he leans down and catches your lips with his in something sweet, filled with love, of the past, present and future. You melt into his touch, into his warmth, into his steady presence. There isn’t another place you would love to be more than at his side.

For a moment, you let your thoughts focus on him, on the way he calls your name, on the way his ears blush when flustered, on the way he teases you with so much affection.

One last peck, and you continue with your endeavor, gently scrubbing his skin, massaging the tension out of his muscles.

After you make sure that he’s relaxed and clean, you once again guide him towards the water, letting the water glide over his body, warmth seeping into him and relaxing him a bit more. You gently grab his hair and massage all the conditioner away, until all that’s left are his pretty strands of hair.

Your lips meet his forehead, before you turn to take care of your own hair. But before you could even grab the bottle, he does, a bit of the liquid on his palms to slather onto your hair.

With the amount of knowledge he has on you, on your routine and day to day life, he manages to perfectly take care of your hair, his fingers carefully moving on your scalp, caressing the tension there out of your head.

A sigh escapes your lips and this time you’re the one stretching closer towards him, arms around his waist.

Rafayel rinses your hair carefully, each strand flowing through his fingers, and you enjoy each touch of his. Especially when he swipes your hair away to reveal your neck, placing a soft kiss there.

Despite being done, you both stay like this for a moment, his face against your shoulder, your fingers drawing random symbols on his skin, intertwined, skin to skin, warmth to warmth.

Just when you notice your fingers getting prune, do you turn off the water, reaching for the towels to dry up. You pass him his own, and watch as he dabs the water away, before wrapping it around his waist. You begin to feel a little bit warmer when he reaches up to swipe his hair away from his face, running his fingers through the strands, making them stick like that.

You turn around to take care of yourself and leave the bathroom to step into the bedroom, one supposedly belonging to you, yet filled with his trinkets and clothes. You step around some paint brushes clustered on the ground and grab a shirt and other clothes.

Once you put them on, you notice how the shirt belongs to him, something he has left behind after one of his escapades from the journalists. You don’t take it off though, rather you turn towards him as he pulls his pants on, a soft piece of clothing, perfect to sleep in.

His eyes glance up to you, getting stuck on his shirt on you, and you smile as you watch the redness bleeding into his ears, into his cheeks.

He crosses his arms, looking away. “So, you’re now also stealing my clothes now?”

You raise your eyebrows at this. “Uhm, what else have I stolen from you, Rafayel?” you ask, well aware that everything scattered around your place is due to him bringing it over. You can’t say you don’t love seeing his stuff around your place, though. It makes it more livelier, happier.

At your words, he turns around and begins prancing towards you, and you take a step back, your shins hitting the edge of the bed. He leans closer to your face, his eyes running over your face, admiring every single feature of yours, almost like his eyes have landed on an artwork.

You suddenly feel shy under his gaze, so you try to lean back, but when you try to do so, you end up falling onto the bed, sitting on the edge of it.

Instead of letting up, Rafayel puts both his hands on the side of your thighs, supporting himself on the bed to follow you.

“How dare you forget. You have stolen my heart, over and over again,” he whispers against your lips, before dipping in and taking a taste of your lips once again.

A small laugh of yours is drowned by his lips, as you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him with you onto the bed. Drops of water fall onto your face from his wet hair, yet you don’t care at all. All that matters is him, Rafayel in your arms and his lips on yours.

With a puff of air, he lands on you, and as the kiss breaks apart for a moment, you take your time to admire his face, the soft lips, his translucent eyes, almost glowing every time he catches your gaze. He doesn’t give you much time, though, before he kisses you again, and again, each kiss making your heart thump with excitement, with all those emotions he manages to awaken in you.

And you’re happy to be the one waking up by his side, spending every lifetime as the person he loves. To be the person who loves him truly in every life.

You can’t help but shudder when his lips move over your jaw to your throat, when he softly murmurs against your skin.

“Let me drown in you…”

[kiatheinsomniac]

──── 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘, 𝐉𝐄𝐀𝐋𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐘 ˊˎ -

☾ ⋆ ﾟ𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 / 𝐑𝐔𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐒: nov. 2023 top supporter: @magical-warlock who's always a darling to work with. I had a little fun with this and made reader a banshee bc immortal lovers yk? 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: Sebastian Michaelis x banshee! Reader 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 1k 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: possessiveness, jealousy, Grell bashing (sorry)

You watch from across the alley as the grim reaper drapes herself all over your demon lover. Your jaw grits and you can feel a frustrated scream bubbling up in the back of your throat. Time and time again, she’s pursued Sebastian, her voice hollering out that nickname Bassy just before she does as though coming with her very own warning system. But your darling demon lover is always quick to turn her down with his tongue as sharp and silver as the knives he fights with. 

But while you’ve been out accompanying your young Lord, she’s shown her face again. She claims it’s for work once again but you’re becoming less and less inclined to believe her: why always her and never another reaper? It seems too coincidental to your protective self. Unfortunately for you though, where reapers go, death springs forth and where death goes, you follow. That’s why you’re able to stay in the service of your young Lord with Sebastian at your side: the last of the Phantomhives does not lead a peaceful life. 

With another flip of her long red hair, Grell drapes herself over Sebsatian’s shoulder and you find your patience has run thin. You leave Ciel’s side for a moment, knowing the area is clear and he is more than safe with both his governess and butler present. You step towards the two and take Sebastian’s arm, wanting to make a show of propriety and possessiveness. You might be in an area sheltered from prying eyes but it’s a public space nonetheless and it’s improper for a lady to be all over a man as she is. 

“Sebastian, my love, we should return to the carriage now. Our work here is done and the young Lord should return home.”

“Of course, darling.” He makes a show of taking your gloved hand and pressing a kiss to your knuckles, shooting Grell a look from the corner of his crimson eyes. You can’t help the smug upturn the corner of your lips make. Sebastian returns your hand to the crook of your arm. 

“ ‘Darling’ ?!” Grell exclaims. For the sake of public decency, you’ve always kept your relationship with Sebastian a very private matter for the sake of your young master’s image in this human society and its countless social rules – but beings like you and Sebastian have no care for a holy marriage and see no reason to participate just to blend in when you could just stay reserved instead. Sebastian’s hand moves to the small of your back in order to draw you closer. 

“Why yes, my darling y/n.” He flashes a closed-eye smile, amused to see Grell’s utter shock and despair. 

“You-! You’d rather this… this… wailing-” 

“Watch your tongue, reaper.” You bite, eyes narrowing.

“A banshee! You’d rather have a banshee than me?! That screeching-?!”

“She does her job as you do yours.” Sebastian cuts in and leans down to press a kiss to your temple while you smile like the cat who got the cream. “You bring death and she alerts those of when it is impending.” You have to stifle your laughter at how Grell’s jaw drops and she’s left a stuttering mess. You cover your mouth with your free hand and allow Sebastian to lead the both of you back towards the waiting carriage and Ciel. You glance over your shoulder to flash a cheeky wave with your fingers as you set a hand on Sebastian’s bicep and give it a gentle squeeze as the two of you part so that he can open the door for Ciel, you following in behind him and sitting upon the bench opposite him, facing backwards. The door shuts the two of you inside and you spy Grell through the little window, seeming to be wrapped up in some despairing monologue of her own. It makes you giggle which catches Ciel’s attention. He raises a brow, the band of his eyepatch raising slightly with the movement. 

“I don’t appreciate the open displays of affection but it was certainly worth it to see that reaper in such a state.” He smirks as he uses his cane to tuck the window’s curtain aside just enough to watch the red-clad reaper in the midst of her meltdown.

The carriage jostles slightly as Sebastian gets up into the driver’s seat and the three of you begin your return to the Phantomhive manor. 

∴.·:*¨ ¨*:·. ☙.·:*¨ ¨*:·.♡ .·:*¨ ¨*:·. ❧.·:*¨ ¨*:·.∴

That evening, as you prepare yourself for bed, a set of cool hands smooth over your shoulders. 

“I never knew you to be so possessive, my darling~” His words drawl into your ear, breath fanning over your ear before he presses a warm kiss just below it. You let out a low hum of pleasure as you turn around to face him, reaching up to loop your arms loosely around his neck. You stretch up onto your toes to softly brush your lips against his.

“Demons aren’t the only creatures capable of being very protective of what's theirs~” You giggle quietly. His arms coil around your neck and he tugs you closer in a swift motion, pressing you flush to his chest. 

“Ah while that’s true, we are unrivalled~” He has a cheeky smirk on his lips as one of his hands rubs up and down the soft curve of your spine. He pulls you into a slow but passionate kiss, the two of you swaying on the spot as you try to close the non-existent distance between the two of you, wanting nothing more than to be one with each other in this moment. 

“What’s going to happen to us once you’ve eaten Ciel’s s-?” You’re cut off with yet another kiss as one of his hands cups the back of your head, fingertips soothingly massaging your scalp. 

“We’ll figure that out when the time comes~” He kisses your nose and looks down at you with lidded eyes. “My sweet banshee~”

☾ ⋆ ﾟlike my work? why not: ∘ buy me a coffee? ∘ commission me? ∘ join my taglist ∘ consider following/reblogging

🏷️@kristinkkd @writing-noah @justanotherkpopstanlol @kingheinrey @danielle-marie @yourfamilyfriendsatan @firagirl @lyn07 @the-fandoms-georgie @Dealachadh @ghxul-x @sarah22447

[nevadancitizen]

-> CH. 8: MIND PALACES & OTHER SHATTERED CRYSTALLINE DREAMS

synopsis: connor has a talk with amanda, and you have a talk with your own mind. connor reminds you, once more, that he's made of plastic and metal, not flesh and blood.

word count: 2.8k

ships: Connor/Reader, Hank Anderson & Reader

notes: i know there's a real life viktor petrov. atomic heart is just weird and named characters after real life people

HoFS taglist: @catladyhere , @foggy0trees0 , @princessofenkanomiya (if you'd like to be added to the taglist, just ask!)

HEAD OF FALSE SECURITY MASTERLIST

The Zen Garden is nice, if a bit humid. Connor’s footsteps are quiet as he walks on the marble that paves the sprawling paths.

Again, that stone stares at him, the soft blue glow entrancing. And just like last time, Connor kneels and touches it. The thrum of energy he expected still shocks his system, and still causes him to take an unneeded, artificial breath. With one last glance over his shoulder, Connor walks away.

When Connor approaches the dock, Amanda is waiting on the water in a quaint little rowboat, an orange and white wagasa resting over her shoulder.

“Hello, Connor.” She smiles. “I thought you might enjoy a little cruise.”

Connor steps into the boat, then pushes it away from the dock. He takes the looms of the oars in his hands and pushes the blades through the water to propel them backward.

After a few moments of looking around, Amanda speaks. “I love this place. Everything is so calm and peaceful, far from the noise of the world.”

She turns to Connor. “Tell me, what have you discovered?”

“I found two deviants at the Eden Club.” Connor looks away, then back to Amanda, then away again, like a nervous dog. He wrings his hands in his lap. He’s not sure why he feels the need to. “I hoped to learn something, but… they managed to escape.”

“That’s too bad.” Amanda’s voice is laced with overly-obvious sympathy. “You seemed so close to stopping them.”

Connor takes the looms of the oars and pushes the blades through the water again instead of responding. Again, there’s that voice (yours – he’s sure it’s your voice) in between his lines of code that tells him to snap at her, to tell her to stop with her fake worry and honeyed words. 

“You seem… lost, Connor,” Amanda says. “Lost, and perturbed.”

Connor’s lips draw into a thin line. “I thought I knew what I had to do. But now I realize it’s not that simple.”

“You had your gun trained on those deviants at the Eden Club. The Officer even told you to grab the Lieutenant’s gun,” Amanda says. “Why didn’t you shoot?”

Connor looks down at where his hands rest in his lap. “I don’t know.” A deep pang of something shoots through his systems, and his eyes snap up to meet Amanda’s. “I don’t know.”

“If your investigation doesn’t make progress soon, I may have to replace you, Connor,” Amanda says, her tone cold and even.

“I understand,” Connor says softly. He can feel something within him twitch – an instability he’s confident will correct itself as time goes on.

The twitch pulls him to look to his left. In the surrounding trees, just barely on the treeline, is a little sapling Connor knows wasn’t there before. It’s silvery and wispy, and can’t be more than a foot in height. But trees shouldn’t be that color. And saplings are supposed to be covered in leaves because of their need to absorb as much sunlight as possible. This one is bare.

“Is something amiss, Connor?” Amanda asks.

“No,” Connor lies. He turns back to Amanda. “Just thinking. That’s all.”

Suddenly, a clap of thunder rolls across the sky even though the clouds above are thin and an orangey color. Amanda looks upwards, as does Connor.

“Something’s happening. Something serious.” Her eyes return to Connor. “Hurry, Connor. Time is running out.”

Your eyes snap open as you gasp, inhaling lumino-polymer. It floods into your lungs, causing the warm and pleasant feeling that comes with having another living being invade your system.

It doesn’t shock you that you’re here again – in your memories. Your mind loves putting you back in the Vavilov Complex, a place you frequented in your youth when you were able to feel solid ground beneath your feet. (Or, rather, above your head, as most of the complex is underground.)

The lumino-polymer that surrounds you is kept in a transitional state: a diffusion-sensitive, anaerobic-bacteria-friendly, translucent, and gluey liquid. The bacteria is suspended around you in little specks of glowing blue. 

You’re not sure which way is up, but you kick your feet to propel yourself towards the light. After a few moments, you break the surface and haul yourself out of the pool, settling on your knees by the edge. Lumino-polymer sloughs off you like you’re a shedding reptile – in one gross, voluminous heap that quickly settles back into the pool.

You put a hand on your chest and take a deep breath. Now, there’s nothing in your lungs but air. But memories and minds work in weird and inconsistent ways, right? So that’s to be somewhat expected.

Yet when you look up, the one thing that’s always consistent is still consistent – the PEC-4 Birchtree is still there. The symbol of the Vavilov Complex and the capstone of its research efforts stands tall in her five meter-diameter by ten meter-tall cylindrical capsule. 

She’s not the typical birch you’d usually think about. Her trunk is thin and silvery, and her leafless branches resemble a wispy mycelium complex rather than sturdy wood. They hang down, almost like weird, sinewy versions of the leaves of a weeping willow. She’s more angel than tree.

You look down and find a metal pail by your feet. It’s already been filled with lumino-polymer. You pick it up and start walking up the stairs. 

When you reach the top, the PEC-4 Birchtree is staring down at you without eyes. Her branches wave despite the lack of a wind to move them. You kneel before the capsule and press on the fuel inlet. As soon as it opens with a soft click, you pour the lumino-polymer in.

When it settles in her soil, the PEC-4 Birchtree almost seems to inhale inside her capsule. Her branches relax soon after.

“Что мне делать?” You ask softly. You look down at where your hands rest in your lap. “Я чувствую себя… потерянно. Действительно потерянно.”

Look at where you are, my child, she responds from within your mind. She doesn’t speak in English or Russian or any other human language – she sounds like the electrical impulses from within your own brain. You’ve escaped from situations more dangerous than this. Remember where you came from. Remember your parents and the reactors they worked in and Chelomey as a whole.

“Я знаю, но…” You bring a hand to your face, then look up at her. Your voice is quiet and quivering when you speak. “Мне страшно.”

You don’t need to be, she says. You can always rely on yourself. Memorize the cards in your hand. Know when to play them. Stack the deck if you need to. Real life plays dirty.

“Да… да, вы правы.” You stand and put a hand on the plexiglass of her capsule. “Спасибо.”

You start to turn to walk away, but are stopped by the PEC-4 Birchtree’s voice permeating your mind again. 

Please be careful, she says. They need you. Both of them. You can keep them on this Earth. Be vigilant. I love you. 

“Да, мэм,” you say softly. “Я тоже вас люблю. Спокойной ночи.”

You zone back in and register your surroundings. You’re in the android autopsy room. Your autopsy table is empty.

Your tongue darts out to wet your lips, then you breathe in deeply. No lumino-polymer in your lungs. Just air. No PEC-4 Birchtree here. Just you. 

A knock sounds at the door. You glance at the clock – it’s just past 6:30 in the morning. You stand and open the door.

Connor stands there, his blazer now clean. “Hello, Officer. I assume an adequate amount of time has passed for you to process the events of yesterday evening and early this morning?”

You step to the side, allowing Connor in. “Khm, yeah. I guess.”

Connor steps through and the door closes automatically behind him. He moves over and sits in the chair he was sitting in yesterday while you hop up on your autopsy table. (Internally, this only solidifies that chair as ‘Connor’s chair’ in your mind.)

“Why did you come here?” You ask. “I don’t really feel like reviewing case details right now.”

“I just came to talk, Officer,” Connor says. 

You pull your legs up onto the table and cross them. “You talk an awful lot. And about personal things, too.”

“I suppose I do.” He looks down at the ground, then back up at you. “When I was in the car, you were talking to Hank. What were you talking about?”

You sigh and your eyes fall to the floor. “His drinking problem. How he gets when he drinks. His suicidal tendencies. How I can’t spend a second without worrying about him.”

“Are you coping well?” Connor asks.

“Of course not.” You let out a humorless laugh. “I went back to my apartment, but I just… couldn’t sleep. So I came here.” You gesture vaguely around the room. “Work is a constant in my life. I like filing reports and organizing data and everything that comes with it. But recently… it’s gotten turbulent.”

Your jaw clenches. “And with everything that’s going on? All the deviants? They’ll find one way or another to pin it on the Soviets. Something like a breaking news article about how a spy put a bug in an American android’s code to cause them to deviate, and it spread.”

“You won’t be able to work on the case without a good coping mechanism,” Connor says. “I suggest you find one.”

You exhale sharply and look at him. He’s leaning forward with his hands folded together and his elbows on his knees.

“You sound like Chariton Zakharov,” you say, a smile creeping onto your face. “Well, kind of. Like the way he cared about science more than the wellbeing of his employees.”

Connor’s LED flickers for a moment. “The Head of the Neurobiology Department at the Pavlov Complex of Facility 3826?”

“Yeah, that one,” you say. You don’t have to ask him if he had to look up that information this time, because you know he did – nobody would know that off the top of their head. “I remember the letter he wrote to himself that Dmitry Sechenov found after he died. The one about how man himself isn’t corrupt, but his body.”

“I haven’t read that letter,” Connor says. “And I can’t find that information in my database.”

You hop off the table and start to rifle through the drawers of your desks. “Hold on. I have something here somewhere…”

“You have a lot of personal effects in the autopsy room, Officer,” Connor says. “May I ask why?”

“It’s basically my office,” you say. “I have an actual desk, but I’m rarely there.”

You open another drawer and find the book you were looking for: The Life, Death, Neuropolymer-Induced Transformation, and Secondary Death of Chariton Radeonovich Zakharov. “Aha! Here it is.”

You put the book on the table and flick through the many worn, scribbled-on sticky notes jutting out of the side. When you find the one you’re looking for, you open the book to the pages you stuck it on. The text is in Russian, but you translate it as you read aloud. “Okay, here. The letter reads:

“Vice is a physiological property. In the magnum opus of “opium for the people,” the Bible, this is well shown, if allegorically. Man has become depraved not by tasting the mystic fruit, but by becoming aware of himself. The body dictates our depravity. 

“We want to multiply, so there are rapists and perverts. If we want to eat, we steal money and food. We want to be pleased, and now we surround ourselves with stupid luxury. It is not man himself who is corrupt, but his limited, primitive shell, which needs food, sex, drugs, and care. 

“The radiance of pure reason, and it alone, can illuminate the path of humanity. Because a human being is not a body. It’s a way of thinking.”

You look up and close the book. “Do you agree with Zakharov?”

“Agree with him on what?” Connor asks. 

“That being human is not about having a human body, but thinking in the way a human does,” you say, then look away. “Actually, I guess that’s a redundant question. Because I’m asking you if you think deviants should exist.”

You meet Connor’s eyes again. “And you’ve been programmed to… exterminate them. Right?”

“Not exterminate,” Connor corrects. “I’ve been programmed to find the cause of deviancy and to help find a way to prevent it.”

“But you’re still a hunter,” you say. “And they’re your prey. No?”

Connor blinks. Once, twice. His LED flickers yellow and barely dips into red before turning back to yellow. “Yes. I am.”

“So you’re a regular Viktor Petrov.” You lean your hip against the table. “Not the Ukrainian one, but the Russian one. A man widely-regarded as a class traitor who’s just working for what he perceives as the greater good.”

“I’m not a man,” Connor says. “I’m just a machine.”

Your face falls and your stare hardens. “No, you’re not. I’m not saying that you’re not a machine – I’m saying that you’re not just a machine. You said it yourself. You can be whatever Hank and I want you to be. We’re Dmitry Sechenov, and you’re Major Sergey Nechayev.”

“How so?” Connor shifts in his seat. He can’t be that stupid – he knows exactly how.

“Nechayev devoted his life to the USSR. In return, he only earned isolation and numerous wounds – both physical and mental. Sechenov was the only one who treated Nechayev with basic kindness. And the Major folded like a cheap deck of cards.” You lean towards him with a hand braced on the table. “Sechenov took him in and molded him into his perfect pet soldier. All because Nechayev, in his vulnerable state, let himself be molded. Just like how you are.”

“I am not being molded,” Connor says. “I am an RK800 – a machine with a mission. I may have secondary missions, but tracking down deviants has always been my number one priority.”

“But you are,” you say. “You’re changing, whether you like it or not. Connor, when you were in my apartment… you laughed. Androids don’t laugh. Only deviants do.”

Connor stands, and you’re reminded of just how intimidating he can be. He moves over so that he’s standing just a yard away from you. (A faint flicker in your mind tells you that if he shot you right now, it’d be considered point blank. But you quickly dismiss it. Connor wouldn’t do that. Not to you. Right?)

“I laughed because I was mirroring the environment you created,” Connor says. “I was designed to work alongside humans. Humans mirror and are mirrored. I was just following my programming.”

You stand up straight and set your jaw as you look him in the eye. You’re searching for any kind of emotion, anything that looks like how Connor looked when he was with Bronislava. But no. There’s nothing. His eyes look dead – like prosthetics that can move.

“You don’t laugh when you’re with Hank,” you say softly. “Even when it’s an intimate environment, like the one in my apartment. He’s a riot. Why don’t you laugh?”

“It’s like you said,” Connor says. “Androids don’t laugh. Only deviants do. I know what I am, and what I am not. And I am not a deviant.”

“Leave.” You step back, turning to your autopsy table. You reach out and grab the book, then trace the embossed lettering with your thumb. 

You glance over your shoulder. Connor’s still standing there, just like early this morning by the Detroit River. 

“What’re you waiting for?” You grind out. You nod towards the exit. “There’s the door. As if you need to be told where it is!”

Connor’s jaw tenses, and he looks like he’s about to speak, but stays silent. 

“You’re disobeying a human.” You turn away from him and look forward. “You know that, right?”

“I’m allowed to disobey orders if they contradict my mission statement,” Connor says. “If I’ve been given contradicting instructions, I opt to execute whichever has highest priority.”

“You’re not a regular android,” you say softly. 

“Of course not,” he says. “I’m a prototype.”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.” You turn to look at him. “You’re…”

You look up into Connor’s eyes again. They’re still dead pieces of plastic. No emotions. No mirror of your own. 

“You need to leave.”

“Officer –”

“Leave!” You bark. “Сейчас!”

Connor steps back. He almost looks… hurt. But you know better. You were taught better, by Connor himself. 

He turns and leaves. The door shuts behind him. You move over and sit in Connor’s chair, then let out a shaky sigh. You draw your legs up to your chest and curl in on yourself. 

“Боже, почему же всё так сложно…?”

[cyripticchronicler]

Ink and Destiny - Part 3

A/N: Sorry for the wait! I've had a hectic week. Thank you for all the support with my writing, I love you all ahhh.

@lilianelena39 Thank you for asking to be tagged! I hope you like it.

Masterlist

Part one Part two Part four

The days that followed were filled with shy touches and hidden smiles. It’s only been a week since you went on that date with James, and it hasn’t left your mind since. 

After eating, he’d ask you to read to him, you spent the rest of the date muttering the love story to James as he lay on his back, making comments now and then. 

The awkwardness of the first date was long gone, and you found yourself growing comfortable around him. He seemed more comfortable around you too, with the way he gripped your hand tightly in his or the way he relentlessly teased you. 

You were still quiet, barely muttering a few words but James filled in the silence. 

He was holding your hand now, you two having run into each other whilst you were on your way to the owlery. James had decided to ditch Sirius and Remus, claiming you were much nicer than them- earning a giggle from you and a scowl from Sirius. 

“You never finished that book,” James muttered, breaking the peaceful silence. 

“I didn’t know you wanted to know the ending,” You said honestly, James looked genuinely offended and you had to bite back a smile. 

“Of course I do, the letter was heartbreaking.” 

You grinned, “Well if you must know, he proposes again and she accepts.”

He let go of your hand, placing his hands over his ears as if it could erase what he just heard. “Spoilers!” 

You couldn't help the laugh that burst out of you, “The book came out years ago! There are spoilers everywhere!”

“Yes, but I was trying to hint at another date where you read to me again but I guess that’s not possible since you’ve told me the ending.” He grumbles, feigning anger as he reaches for your hand again. 

“Well…I never told you what happened to the others.”

He took the bait, “I am dying to know what happens with the others, so maybe if you’re up to it we could go on another date, say, this Saturday?” 

You pretended to think for a moment, “Saturday, hmm, I’m not sure.”

You both stop at the entrance of the owlery, James pulling you into him slightly. You couldn’t stop the blush painting your cheeks.

He’s never touched you like that before.

“I’ll beg if you want,” He whispers, laughing when you playfully hit his arm, cheeks redder than a tomato. 

“No begging is needed. Saturday is fine.” It left you three days to plan your outfit and mentally prepare. 

James grins triumphantly, following you around the owlery, hand still gently placed on your waist. 

—

You stared at the wobbly heart drawn on the inside of your wrist. You hadn’t noticed when it appeared but your eyes can’t look away. 

Not all soulmates are together romantically, sometimes they are platonic soulmates, hell, on rare occasions they’re enemies who despise each other. 

But there’s a part of you that hopes you and James are romantic soulmates. There’s also a part of you that’s still unsure about him. You two are complete opposites, you’re quiet, he’s loud, and you shrink away at any attention on you whereas James thrives in it. 

“Opposites attract, it’s basic science in the muggle world.” Lily had reassured you when you voiced your concerns. Maybe she was right. Merlin, you hoped she was right. 

But you push those thoughts away for now, noting you only have half an hour to finish getting ready. You’ll talk to James about your thoughts. If there’s one thing you hate most in romance books it is the miscommunication trope. 

You hastily draw a sloppy heart back before returning to your makeup. You keep it simple, applying a couple of coats of mascara and some concealer before adding lipgloss. 

Your outfit is simple, black jeans and the top you feel most comfortable in, paired with a thick coat to keep out the cold weather. 

You reach The Three Broomsticks in no time, relishing in the warmth. Noting James isn’t here yet, you find a secluded table in the corner.

A minute later James walks through the door, nose red from the cold. He perks up when he spots you, smiling warmly and he takes the seat across from you. 

You notice the heart on his wrist as he sits, his coat pulled up like he was staring at it just a moment ago. 

“You always seem to be here earlier than me, perhaps on our second date I’ll arrive an hour early to beat you.” Your heart flutters at the thought of him already planning a second date.

You’re silent, mind racing for something snarky to respond with. James doesn’t seem bothered by your silence, instead asks you if you’d like a butterbeer and you nod your head gratefully. 

You take the time he’s gone to calm your thoughts. It seems as if you haven’t pushed those thoughts from before down far enough.

“The weather has changed drastically since our first date, don’t you think?” James asks as he sits back down. You nod your head. Just two weeks ago you were wearing dresses but now it seems as if it’s going to snow at any moment. 

 “Climate change.” You respond dumbly. 

“I hope you brought the book with you, maybe we could find a quiet place for you to read for me. Or we could head back to the common room and you read to me there.”

You shake your head, “I couldn’t bring it, I didn’t want to risk bending it by putting it in a bag but didn’t want to risk getting it wet either.”

James seemed disappointed, “Later then, when we get back.”

You nod your head dumbly. 

“Are you okay? You’re awfully quiet.” James’s eyes shine with amusement, a hint of concern peeking through. 

“Do you think we’d be happy together?” You blurt, taking a sip of the butterbeer to busy your fidgeting hands. 

“Yes,” James answers honestly, with no hesitation. “Do you not…think we’d be happy together?” He asks rather nervously. 

“We’re quite different from each other.”

He ponders for a moment, “Different isn’t always a bad thing, Love. We balance each other out.”

“Oh.” You’ve never thought of it from that perspective. Awkwardly taking a sip of your drink, you meet James’s eyes. “I just… I’m not used to attention- I hate it actually- and you’re popular so I can’t help but think once everyone finds out we’re dating they’re going to pay more attention to me.”

You’ve only met a couple of times since the first date, and besides the walk to the owlery, it was in secrecy. 

“We don’t have to tell people straight away- whatever this is. It can be our little secret, for now, Love. Is there anything else worrying you?” 

You shake your head. “It’s not very secretive if we’re sitting together in broad daylight in one of the most popular stores in Hogsmeade.”

He drains the rest of his drink, “I guess we’ll have to find somewhere else to go. Come with me.” You don’t miss the glint of mischief in his eyes but go to follow him anyway. 

“Where are we going?” You whisper, desperately trying to catch up as he runs through the snow. He stops a few minutes later and you attempt to catch your breath as you examine your surroundings. 

“Where are we?” You ask when you don’t recognise the place. There's nothing and no one around, just the path you came from.

“You’re not going to murder me are you?” 

James laughs, stalking closer, “I don’t plan on it, no. I’m rather fond of you.” 

Your heart skips a beat, “Even if we’re so different?” 

He nods, a small smile painting his face as he wraps his arms around your waist. “Of course, my Love. It would just be boring if we were so alike.” 

You nod your head in agreement, “It would, wouldn't it?” Ever so slowly, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him closer as one of his hands go to hold your jaw. 

His lips touch yours and like last time they’re soft and warm but unlike before, the kiss is filled with hunger.

He pulls you closer against him and you moan, tangling your fingers in his hair. James immediately deepens the kiss, tongue swiping across yours and you pull away in shock. 

He doesn’t let you go far, nose burrowing into your neck, “I’m sorry, Love. You just taste so good.” 

“Oh,” you whisper, breathless.

He laughs, “Yeah, Oh.”

—-

“That's how it ends?” James asks you, peering up from where his head lays on your lap, your hand threading through his soft curls. 

You’re laying on your bed. The common room was too busy and James stated the boys would just bother them if they went to his room so you shyly offered to read to him in your room.

The girls were all doing their own thing tonight, thankfully giving you and James time alone. 

You immediately thought of other things you could be doing alone but James seemed determined to hear the rest of the book and you weren't sure you wanted to do those activities with him yet. 

“I don’t get why that’s your favourite book,” At your offended look he continues, “Sorry, Love, but that's such a bad ending.”

You laugh incredulously, “It’s not a bad ending! They end up happy and in love.”

“You’re such a hopeless romantic,” He jokes and you roll your eyes. 

“If you’re not a hopeless romantic then I want you to leave right now.” You point to the door playfully and James leans up, face inches from yours. 

“I’ll become a hopeless romantic for you,” He mutters, looking at your lips. 

“Good.” You push him off the bed and he groans in fake pain. “Go to bed, the girls will be back soon and I’ll never hear the end of it if they spot James Potter in my bed.”

“Fine. I want to see you soon though, maybe after the Quiddich game next week?” 

“Won’t you be too busy celebrating the win?” 

“You think we’re going to win?” He asks, happiness and shyness clear in his voice. His cheeks turn red when you nod, “I can think of other ways to celebrate the win with you, Love.” 

You roll your eyes, playfully pushing his shoulder. “Go.”

He taps his lips and you can’t help but blush. You mean for it to be a quick peck but James has other ideas, tilting your head as he kisses you deeply. 

He places an open-mouthed kiss on your neck before leaving with a quick wink. 

As soon as the door closes you let out a squeal, kicking your feet as you hug your pillow to your chest tightly. 

“I heard that.” James’s voice resonates through the door. 

Your cheeks flush, “Go away.” 

His footsteps fade and you relax into your bed.

It’s only until the next morning that you notice the words on your wrist.

I’m kicking my feelings and squealing about you too. Not so different after all.

[foxesscramble]

AFTG Advent Calendar: Day One

Hot Chocolate - Pillow Fights - Bookstore AU || "What did I do to deserve you?"

Andrew Minyard x Neil Josten

@allforthegamebingo

Boom

Neil shuddered from his spot on the couch. The rain was slapping against the windows as the wind whipped through the trees outside. A steady tap, tap, tap. Neil stared blankly at the wall; a small section of the white paint was chipping off of the wall. He and Andrew had tried to hang a picture there once, but the wall put up more of a fight than either of them had anticipated. 

It was drawing closer to 4 in the morning, but Neil couldn’t find it in himself to sleep. He knew a lot of people would have been lulled to sleep by the storm. He knew for a fact that Matt would be passed out in his bed right now; rain always brought a sense of peace to him. Neil wished he could feel that sense of peace right now. 

His eyes stayed open, a loud voice echoing in his head reminding him that loud noises meant people could sneak up easier. Sharp nails gripping his jaw and yanking harshly. You do not sleep during storms, Abram. They cover footsteps. If you can’t hear something as quiet as footfall, then we’re dead. You stay awake.

Another shiver runs down his spine as the room lights up briefly. Neil shook his head and tore his eyes away from the wall. His eyes caught on a shadow in the hallway, and Neil couldn’t help his visceral reaction. His body jerked sideways as his heart jumped into his throat. Andrew blinked bleary eyes at him as he shuffled his sock-clad feet closer to the coach. “Neil?” He took a moment to slow his rabbiting heart before answering in a croaky voice, “I’m fine.” 

Andrew rubbed his hand over his eye an unimpressed look on his face. “It’s four in the morning. Why are you in the living room?” Neil let his eyes sweep across the room as he gave himself a moment to sort his thoughts. He wouldn’t lie to Andrew, but the full answer felt too raw. “Don’t like storms.” Andrew’s eyes seemed to sharpen a bit as he woke up, and he studied Neil’s face for a moment. He tried his best not to squirm under Andrew's gaze, willing his body to still, and only then did he realize his hands were shaking.

Andrew must have decided it wasn’t the right time to push and instead sighed heavily before making it the rest of the way to the couch. He flopped down sluggishly, dragging the blanket lying over the back of the couch with him. He reached for the remote before lying down, his head hovering over Neil’s lap as if waiting for permission. “Yes,” Neil whispers softly. Andrew’s head settled gently on Neil’s thigh. He found himself settling back into the couch as well, the last bits of tension draining away. Andrew scrolled through different channels before coming across the Wizard of Oz and turning the volume down. 

They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the buzz of the old TV and the raging storm the only sounds that filled the room. Faint jingles made their way toward them as Sir and King trotted toward them. King meowed grumpily as he jumped onto the back of the couch to curl up. Neil watched as Sir climbed up after King, getting comfortable curled around the other cat. 

He hovered his hand over Andrew’s head, a silent yes or no. Andrew lifted his head to look at Neil’s hand before nodding and placing his head down once more. Neil let his hand drop the rest of the way and took a deep breath in. Andrew himself brought a sense of security, but that, combined with the soft glow of the TV and the purring by his head, had the voices in Neil’s head go quiet. 

His fingers slid smoothly through Andrew’s golden strands; his dull nails scratched against Andrew’s scalp. He felt more than saw Andrew’s shiver and smiled softly to himself. He let his head drop to the back of the couch as his eyes drifted closed.

-------

When Neil left in the morning for his daily run, he made sure to leave a mug of hot chocolate on the table for Andrew. An unspoken thank you for being there for him when he was tired and unsure of what was going on. Neil knew that Andrew had his back, and he knew that he had Andrew’s, but it still sent a wave of shock through him every time he saw it in action. 

Putting his earbuds in, he slipped silently out of the apartment.

[rjthirsty]

H For Handicap

I've created an ABC list for Ikemen Prince ranging from humorous crack-fic ideas to the smutty, with a dash of drama and angst. 26 letters of the alphabet x 13 characters / 12 months = 1 year of drabbles, headcanons, and creating with these men in mind.

Tags: Angst, Disabilities, Post Canon, GN!Reader,

Chevalier

Chevalier stands from his throne, waiting for you to hook arms with him. The two of you have gone through this routine many times, it’s so natural at this point for him to escort you out of the throne room once you’ve finished the petitions and visitors that came for the week. He can hear you moving, and a moment later he feels your hand slide through his waiting elbow. As regally as ever, he descends the stairs in measured steps. Nine stairs. Twenty-three to the door. No one is left in the room save for Sariel, he always could feel the presence of others very well, even Four Eyes.

The feel of the floor changes under his boots. Through the palace the two of you stroll. Most people will move aside for the King of Rhodolite, so it is of little consequence to move less carefully in the hallways than the social gatherings full of nobles and other public functions where he continues to pretend nothing had ever gone wrong. The last ball you two attended, he danced across the floor cleared for just the two of you. You’d never know he had an impairment with the way he managed to lead you around the room. Then again, that was the point.

One-hundred-forty-two steps and you two came to a stop. The room he had designated for his own office was in front of him. Easily he reached for the handle and pushed the door out of the way. One person sat inside. Chev could tell from his faint cologne that it was Clavis, he could smell the products he used to tame his bedhead.

Confidently, Chev moved into the room and around the desk, fingers touching the edge of it to keep him aimed in the right direction. Eight steps. Two steps. Two steps. Without your help, he found a seat - his seat - where he would field visitors inside the palace. You took yours beside him where you managed most of the work he was unable to perform these days.

Clavis knew. Everyone in his closest circle knew, but the maids and other workers on the grounds didn’t. It was kept secret to keep the peace. If the world found out he no longer had his vision, there would be people aiming to use that to their advantage. It was easier this way. He didn’t need to see to be aware of his surroundings, or to use his intelligent mind.

Papers shuffled. People spoke. He heard most of them approaching before they entered and announced themselves. He often held documents that had no purpose for him to rifle through. Five pages. Seven pages. Two pages. You were the one that looked over them, or Clavis, or Sariel, even Leon when it came to domestic affairs. He had to trust all of you to be certain his standards were maintained, but through the brief overview any of you made, he could determine the best course of action without seeing the words.

Anything requiring a signature would be seen to at a later time, when no one else was around to witness the way you guided his hand to the place for him to mark his name. He had never looked warm when he looked at anyone but you, so no one can tell from his uninterested stare that he can’t actually see them. It’s easy enough to tell where they’re located, people make an exorbitant amount of noise just existing.

The day finally draws to an end. Sixty-seven steps to the staircase taking the two of you to the next floor. Twenty-two stairs. One-hundred-eleven steps to your shared bedroom. Nothing moves inside this room. Everything is kept in exactly the same place so that Chevalier can manage his own routine without the need of baby-sitting. That is how he feels. He knows he should be grateful for your compliance, but he can’t help but feel resentment for himself and his need for you.

You read to him. It’s a much slower pace than he used to read silently to himself, but hearing the words come from you makes it more than tolerable– it’s pleasant to listen to your slower cadence. He misses the faces you’d make when you read, the emotions that would cross without you even realizing it. Gently, he cups your cheeks and finds your mouth through the measure of his touch.

He misses your bright, clear eyes. It’s only darkness now. You’re not as easy to read anymore. It’s more difficult to judge how you’re feeling. You have had to become more honest with him in order for him to continue to feel connected, because otherwise he just knows you exist in a capacity nearby. He knows you’re there, but what was it that your smile looked like again?

What was the face you’d make when the blush would crawl across your skin as you two made love? He can hear your sighs and your moans, and they’re as lovely as ever, but when was the last time he saw you intoxicated with lust? If he had felt like he was fumbling before with physical intimacy, he was even more clumsy now that nothingness existed in the spaces between you and him. Groping in the dark only to bump into your form in a place he hadn't predicted.