#feeling a deep otherworldly emptiness right now

[cutiecusp]

Forgiveness.

Father John Price x Demon Reader.

MDNI! (tw, talks of religious leadership, teasing, longing, wanting...)

John watched his congregation mill slowly out of the church after his sermon, it was a hot day, and everyone seemed reluctant to leave the cool oasis of the Church.

People smiled and nodded, making plans for the beach or a barbeque over the coming week, a heatwave was due in your small town, and everyone was looking forward to keeping cool.

He felt your energy first.

"The Church is closing for the day.” He spoke loud and clear, his eyes searching for you.

"You speak so beautifully." You say, your voice strong, an otherworldly tone to it as you make your way across the pews.

He raised his eyes and saw you, your presence in the now almost empty church. You are an attractive woman, striking in appearance, dressed quite immaculately, and he found himself admiring you before he quickly reminded himself of who he was and who you are.

You walked closer to him as he closed the Bible on the pulpit and rested his hand on it, his other hand on his hip. John's voice was firmer now. "This is a house of God."

"Do you not preach forgiveness?" You ask, a mischievous tone to your voice, as if you held all the power in this situation. Confident, alluring, with a voice that could charm the most stubborn sailor into the sea.

He inhaled a slow deep breath, letting his shoulders drop as he stared at you through his lashes. Your presence was intoxicating, a fact he was starting to get accustomed to, his own tolerance for you growing.

"Yes." John replied lowly in his gravely tone. "But not to demons."

"Then isn't that a little.... hypocritical?" You ask, a frown marring your features.

"After all, you are a man of God."

The man paused and leaned against the pulpit, his hand on the corner as you stood less than an arm's length away from him now. His eyes flicked from your pale eyes to your lips, taking in the slight demon markings along your face.

His jaw clenched slightly and he crossed his arms. It wasn't hypocritical. You are a demon, he was a preacher. You both were from different ends of the spectrum.

"Look at me, Father." You urge, bringing your hands together in mock prayer, eyes glinting under the light of the windows.

John closed his eyes, a small shiver going down his spine at the way you said his title. He obeyed, opening his eyes and looking back at you through his lashes, meeting your gaze.

"Am I not worth forgiveness?"

John's breathing was slow. Your voice was like silk. Silk that wrapped around him and squeezed tightly, making it hard to think clearly, an invisible ribbon almost, pulling you together.

His jaw clenched tighter, his fingers digging in his forearms. It almost irked him how much you were getting under his skin, getting to him. The way you always did lately, this was your third visit this month alone.

You step closer, your feet on the same cobbled stone as his. You smile, beckoning him closer with your finger.

He did, his body almost on instinct, as if being drawn to you by an invisible string. John came closer until you were only inches apart, your warm breath on his face, your presence all encompassing.

He swallowed hard, his breathing slightly heavy, his eyes locked on yours, the sweet smell of incense and something else in the air.

"Forgiveness Father, isn't that what you preach?"

John was a man of God. He had devoted his entire life to the Lord, to the church. And yet, somehow, you were luring him in, tempting him and getting in his head. He gritted his teeth together, his voice a little tight.

"Yes," He muttered. "Forgiveness is something I preach."

Your gaze flickers over his tight jaw, his eyes burning into yours as you let out a light hum.

"Oh. But not for everyone, am I right?"

His grip on his own arms tightened, his knuckles white. He could feel you, the heat from your body, the way your eyes were on his lips now. You were toying with him, he knew that, but even still he couldn't pull back.

John swallowed hard again before answering you, his voice almost hoarse now. "Not for demons." He repeated lowly.

"Aren't we the people that need it most?" You ask, a dark whisper that struck in the chord of his being. How could he answer that, without betraying his lifes work?

You stood there, the embodiment of temptation and sin, and you had the nerve to say that. John felt something snap in him, a mix of anger and desperation, your presence driving him towards a breaking point.

A low, guttural sound escaped his throat as he grabbed your waist roughly and pushed you against the wall, pinning your between it and his body. You reward him with a smile, showing off your sharp teeth, another reminder of who you really were.

You let out a throaty laugh, eyes flashing bright.

"Dear, sweet Father.. I wouldn't want you to lose your composure." You tease, your voice titled.

Your silvery laugh sent a shiver down his spine. The way you loved to taunt him, tease him, drove him mad. He kept you pinned there, his grip on your hips tight, pressing against you, his chest to yours. His heart beating like a gallop, where as yours didnt beat at all.

John's breathing was uneven, heavy, and he spoke in a low voice, his jaw clenched tightly. "You're toying with me, demon."

"What about it? You wouldn't dare do a thing about it, even if your body is screaming for it." You push him aside, a long finger trailing up his arm, before you tug at his collar. Your gaze flickered down his front, his arousal clear as day. You lick a soft stripe over his lips, before suckling on the bottom one, allowing your teeth to draw a little blood, causing him to moan in the back of his throat.

"I'll be back, holy man." You laugh, disappearing into the shadows.

He watched in frustration as you disappeared, your last words lingering in the air. John exhaled harshly, running a hand through his hair roughly as he tried to compose himself, his heart hammering.

You were right, his body and mind were screaming for you, craving you. And yet, he couldn't give in. He couldn't let a demon win, no matter how much he yearned to have you.

But he knew, he just knew, that you'd be back, the question at hand, could he survive it when you did.

.....................................................................

i know i have a long WIP to finish, but i needed to get this out, ive been suffering MAJOR imposter syndrome lately, and not feeling like anything i write is worth sticking here, but im just closing my eyes and pressing the upload button. xx

@kaeyasfuturewife @xoxunhinged @muneca-lemon-steppa @gardenof-venus @soraya-daydreams @frudoo @renpodz @yesornowaitidontknow @thevoiceinyourheadx @shadowdark00 @lunamoonbby @incredible-walker @identity2212 @pukbadger @urbimom @corvid007 @wordsfromshona @shadows-empress @m00xy @canyonmooncreations @oniraki @evie-119 @havoc973 @kylies-lover-blog @ishipdabands @cmbghost @heckinspooks @midwesternwitchery @masterclassofescapism @s-a-v-a-n-a-34 @skeletonsucker @ghost-soaps-shadow

[thedivinetarot]

Hold me, love me, touch me, honey be the first who ever did

Future spouse turn on +18

☆ How to chose your pile?

First clear your mind, take a deep breathe and close your eyes. Ask the question in your head "what will turn my future spouse on about me?". And shall the picture you are drawn to the most will be your pile.

☆ Disclaimer:

Please if you are under 18 do not interact or reblog this reading. This content is explicit and is not for you.

This is a general reading so don't put your life on hold for it. Also, this reading is written for the feminine (women, girls) if you are masculine or identify as a man this reading is NOT for you. This reading is for the feminine collective.

▪︎This reading was done using Raider Waite tarot deck and sexual magic tarot deck.

Lots of love 💕

Arya

Pile 1 - sleeping beauty

Your current energy

I feel like this pile’s energy is quite saddening. I see that you had a project to work on and nothing went as you hoped which made you clash with your team members and caused something unpleasant to face. I see that you feel quite empty and insecure towards your own thoughts. You have many creative thoughts to offer and you are so passionate about them but I see that because your team didn't listen to you or do anything you say it left you feeling unimportant or like a "chair's leg" idk how to explain it but they made you feel like an empty vase. Also you might have been feeling quite stuck and gloomy. I see that lately your self-esteem has dropped and you feel like nothing matter or you don't matter anymore. I'm so sorry for that pile one you deserve absolutely the best. Your thoughts and ideas are valuable and if someone didn't take them seriously that doesn't mean that they don't matter. Also, I see that you might be under a psychic attack or telepathy so be careful. I see that this person who is attacking you is quite naive and they are doing it with their whole will which means they know exactly what they are doing. I see that you are trying to get over them like your mind is trying to wash them off but they are like an ink stain that doesn't really go away. But eventually it will so don't worry. For others (people who are under psychic attack or telepathy) this person is trying to communicate telepathically with you so expect them to show up in your dreams or receivesigns from them. I see that what is between you two is not finished yet. You may see that everything has finished buuuttt it is not. This person may come with a love offer and communicate with you very soon. They may be working on themselves right now. Anyways the period of stagnation is almost over or it will be over by the end of this year.

☆ Placements for you:

Pisces, Capricorn, Taurus, Gemini, Libra, Cancer. Or you have Neptune, Saturn, Mercury prominent in your chart. Or you have 12th, 2nd, 10th, 7th, 3rd, 4th house stallium or your sun moon is there. I see also moon in cancer and saturn in libra.

☆ What will turn your future spouse on?

Right off the bat I see that your future spouse will be in love with your breasts. I see everything related to them. Massaging them, sucking them, grabbing them. They also looovvvee how the bra shape them especially corsets and push up bras and also they love how they look with no bra soo ;) anyways. This person is so down bad for you like they are an animal for that part. I keep hearing the song "Addicted to you by Shakira" weird I never listened to that song before but when I described the song to my sister she gave me the name. Also, your waist and belly button. They like how your waist is shaped. I see also that you are this person's dream girl. They see you as the empress, their empress. They like how beautiful you are whether you think it is true or not. I see that they see you the empress to their empror. I also got the collar bones too. Your spouse is going to see you as something so beautiful and otherworldly. I keep emphasizing on the upper body especially the breasts and waist. I see also that they like watching you getting undressed after an event or a party. They like your whole naked form too but mostly your breasts. They also like your size too, no matter how big or small you are they think that you complete them and the chemistry is off charts. I see that you guys may have wonderful sexual chemistry like you two can't keep your hands off of each other. You see those couple who gives off the vibe that they fuck every two minutes? You are like that pile 1 they adore you. This person also gets horny by the fact that you are intimate with them and only them. They get horny or turned on by dim lights and you getting undressed in front of candle lights. Also this person might get horny when you guys hug. They just feel soo hot and bothered whenever you are around. Their love language may be physically touch. They even get horny when you set on their lap too. I see that they might get turned on when you are applying lotion, perfume or even cream on your body they get weak in their knees.

I hope you enjoyed your reading💕.

☆ Placements for them:

Taurus, Capricorn, Aries, Leo, Cancer, Pisces. Also they have moon, Mars, Venus, Neptune prominent in their chart. Sun or moon or stallium in the 1st, 2nd, 5th, 4th, 12th, 10th. Venus in Aries, mars- moon, Venus- ascendant aspects in synastry.

Pile 2 - Woman posing

Your current energy

I see that you might be stuck on someone with Aquarius placements. I see that you have finally made peace with them and you feel kind of imbalanced by that. I see also that this person kept you stuck and out of place. I see also that you are in a place right now where you can't see the truth and you are very conflicted. This confection is keeping you feeling restless and tired. I see that you are fighting internally your anxiety about them. I see that this person knows how to tick your boxes and keep you on edge. Pile 2, this person's intentions aren't fully good towards you. I see that they are only here for fun and good times but believe me it will only end up with disappointment so be careful. I see that this person is manipulating you into thinking that they are so tired and can't live without you but they are not. They know that you'll get back to them, I see that you need to stop giving them the validation that they seek because each time you return to them it make their ego bigger. You are worthy of more than that pile 2. Also, the energy under the bottom of the deck is quite wicked. This person is doing everything in their power to torture you and manipulate you.

☆ Placements for you:

Aquarius, Pisces, Taurus, Virgo, moon in sagittarius, mars in leo, Venus in scorpio, Sagittarius, Venus in Aquarius. Venus, Uranus, Neptune, Mars, moon prominent in your chart or stallium in the 11th, 12th, 2nd, 6th house in your chart.

☆ What will turn your future spouse on?

I got a lot of 10s in this pile so I guess your spouse really feels turned on by the fact that they are making a family that is going to leave a legacy behind with you. Also, this person really gets turned on when you surrender to them, I see a lot of submission. Doesn't mean that they are dominant but they generally love to see you under them. They might be a soft dom. They won't force you to do anything against your will. This pile is quite vanilla, I see a lot of fluids here. They might feel turned on by your sex fluids or they generally like to play with it. They also get turned on when you tease them. This person is foodie, I am picturing the image of Louis and Peter griffin when they were feeding each other fruits in this scene check it out if you want to. You might feed each other grapes and fruits in general. I'm not getting this person enjoying a specific body part at all. I feel like they enjoy your presence during the act more. Also, they get turned on when you hug them tightly. I feel like this person is quite traditional, they enjoy it when you make dinner for them. I see them getting back from work were you are dressing up nicely and making them a very delicious dinner. Also, this person is into sexting. I see them getting very horny when you are teasing them with your nudes. Idk this person respectively is very traditional and vanilla. I see also that they are very mature emotionally. This person get turned on by eye contact and deep conversations they might spend hours making love and they last very long.

Enjoy your reading pile 2💕.

☆ Placements for them:

Leo, Mercury in virgo and sagittarius, Pisces, Aquarius, Venus in virgo, mars in Aries. Dominant planets in Mercury, Mars, Neptune, Uranus. Stallium/ sun or moon in 1st, 6th, 11th, 12th, 9th house in their chart.

Pile 3 - Lady with flowers

Your current energy

I see that this pile is surrendering to the divine. I see that you are trying to enjoy your life as much as possible. I feel like you are living in a routine, there's nothing much honestly. I see that you are anticipating something. I feel like you want something new in your life, something to break the routine without creeping you off. I see that you always lean towards routine and structure but somehow you desire change. I see that you want change but you are very resistant to it which is creating chaos energetically. Pile 3, set with your self and decide what exactly is holding you back from the change? What is scaring you this much? Writing this down can be really helpful I order for you to acknowledge what is wrong. I see that this duality of wanting change and fearing it is keeping you stuck and confused. But at the same time you are looking forward, you are looking for a sign from the universe or God to intervene and change it. You are deeply feeling optimistic about tomorrow. I see that your energy is quite happy and warm. You might have walked away from something that kept bothering you and now you feel like that thing have no power over you right now. I see that there might be a small health issue that faced you in the previous weeks like cold or fever. But you got better thanks to God or the Universe.

Placements for you:

Sagittarius, Gemini, Cancer, Scorpio, Taurus, Aquarius, Aries. Also, I'm picking up on Mars in Aries, Venus in scorpio, Moon in scorpio. Venus, Mercury, Sun, Mars, Pluto as dominant planets in your chart. Stallium in the 1st, 2nd, 3rd, 4th, 8th, 11th house.

☆ What will turn your future spouse on?

Well first you got triple 888 which never happened in my readings. It means that you are going to experience infinite abundance with your spouse. I see that this person at first will be soft and sweet. They will make love to you softly, they will demand nude pictures of you and they will masturbate to it. They have breeding kink, they will imagine having a child with you while they are masturbating. They are going to make love like there's no tomorrow but as the relationship preced they are going to get scary honestly. I see that they are going to share their sexual fantasies with you. They will ask you to role play with them and the roles are going to be quite dark. Like, they might role play a r*pe scene or something very dark of course with your consent if you are comfortable with that type of stuff or not. With each day that pass they will show their kinkier side to you. I see them using their belt or whip on you. There will be hair pulling too, and heavy BDSM. I see that they will escape reality with you into the bedroom I see them really praising and encouraging you afterwards. They also might tie your hands. I see wax play too, this person is very naughty and kinky I can't with them. This pile’s future spouse might get turned on by pain. I'm picturing Angelina Jolie when she stabed her boyfriend to feel pleasure while they are doing it. This person might get horny when you are in pain. They might cause you pain too. This person is giving Christian Grey, I see that they like being in control and doing heavy stuff to their partner. Idk pile 3, if you might get uncomfortable with that try to communicate with them. You don't have to face all of this. Also, I see that this person will see you as their lover, I got the lover card and Judgement twice which is quite unusual. I see that it might mean that this relationship is meant to awaken something in you, something you are ignoring.

Enjoy your reading pile 3💕.

☆ Placements for them:

Air placements (Libra, Aquarius, Gemini). Mercury in sagittarius, and water placements (Cancer, Pisces and scorpio). Mercury, Pluto, Venus. Stallium in Air placements or houses and Stallium in water placements.

Pile 4 - Woman looking at the stars

Your current energy

I see that there's someone in your life that is spreading rumors about you. It might be a woman with leo placements or a man with Aquarius placements I'm not sure. I see that they feel very jealous of your achievements and how graceful you are. I see that you are the type of person who is very beautiful. You might be beauty with brains, someone who is very intelligent and smart. This person is spreading rumors about you and the cards are telling me that they will get their Karma so don't worry you don't have to do anything about it. The cards are advising you to have inner strength and calm down before engaging in any behavior that doesn't suit your public image. I see that you might be someone who is quite popular and known but very envied by others. Your skills and dedication are drawing the right people into your life and the right opportunities too. I see that if you are planning on traveling somewhere it will happen but also for that to happen you need to find closure and end a cycle in your life.

☆ Placements for you:

Leo, Virgo, Sagittarius, Aries, Pisces, Aquarius, Libra, Leo. Sun, Mars, Saturn, Venus prominent in your chart. Stallium in the 1st, 6th, 5th, 9th, 12th, 7th, 11th house in your chart.

☆ What will turn your future spouse on?

Okay, first thing is this person is very idealistic, very emotional and devoted. I see that they get horny when you tease them with your breasts like pressing them against him or showing them to him randomly make him sexually frustrated. I see that he gets really horny when they see you dressing up for them. A lot of emphasis on glam, they enjoy watching you dressing up, putting on perfume and makeup. You might be their type honestly. Like they were searching for someone like you and they found you soo it is a win win. This person is like pile 2, they are quite traditional. They don't have any weird kink at all. I see that they lean more to making love unlike pile 3 it was insane but anyways no judgment on my blog. I see that your ass is something that they like, they enjoy the size, shape and how soft and squishy it is. This person gets so horny when you are showering or under water. They see you as someone who is so ethereal like a mermaid. They like your body naked and wit under the shower. They might join you there too. I see that they really get turned on when you whisper in their ear and tease their neck. This person is in their head a lot when it comes to you. They might go to work and sit there imagining you two doing it nonstop and when they return home they'll be like a wild animal. He is so soft, like a soft dom again. I can't with him I try to provoke many cards but all I am getting is the cups suit which is linked to love and emotions. I see that this person is very emotional when it comes to you what matter for them is intimacy and how comfortable you are with them. Also, it keeps them going when you are in pleasure. They feel prideful when you reach your orgasm and moaning their name. Also, I'm getting Nikki Minaj here. He'll totally take it off of you after the party. Also I'm getting the song "something about you by eyedress, dent may" this person sees you like something so beautiful and ethereal. They have a lot of respect for you, they won't curse or cuss at you at all during sex. They see sex as something very sacred and romantic only shared between two people. They don't dare to call sex (sex) they'll say (love making) instead. This person is very poetic, they can and will write poems about you and set the right romantic mood for you two to enjoy.

Take care pile 4 💕.

☆ Placements for them:

Water signs (Scorpio, Pisces and cancer). Air signs (Aquarius, Gemini and Libra). Mercury, moon, Venus as prominent plants in their chart. Stallium in the 4th, 8th, 12th, 11th, 3rd, 7th house for them.

Post date: 24th of Nov -2024 Sun

* Feedback is appreciated

[annie-creates]

Every last droplet

Pairing: Garrick Tavis x venin reader

Genre: fluff with a little smut

Words: 3700

Note: My longest one part fic so far is here! I have never written smut and this is my first try so please be kind. Please be aware not every detail might be completely true to the canon source material. Let me know what you think!

Aretia was safe, they told you. It’s protected by the mountains, the borders are far, nobody would dare to attack Aretia. And yet they did. The alarm bells rang since early morning, and before the sun rose, the city was covered in a battle, dragons, riders and soldiers filling every street, every abandoned house. You watched the chaos with doubt, the dread of fallen servicemen and screams of running residents filling your ears. So many have fallen, your friends, the enemies, even dragons. Yet after hours there was no end, no appeasement, no winning.

On the brim of your strength, you fall to your knees, nails digging into the burned soil of the field. You feel like you can’t go any more, and you know every other rider is probably in a similar state. Wounded, hurt, at the edge of their strength. Yet you keep going, because no other option can even be considered. You need to find the strength. The power to strike the final blow, the chance to end the battle. You know you can’t ask your dragon to provide that much, no dragon possessed this much power.

So you reach somewhere else. Into the ground under your fingers, through the tree roots and house foundations, under stones, river sources and mines. You reach so deep so can almost feel the heat of the earth’s core, looking for a spark, a string of power to borrow. You know this kind of power is forbidden, but in the desperation you face you don’t care. You’ll figure the consequences out when it comes to them. You search and search until you find it, the magnetic zest just waiting, calling you to use it, to just extend your finger and reach for it. It wraps around your palm, then your hand, and your whole body like a snake.

It is pain but it’s also power, it ruins you but builds you back up stronger. It burns every last vein in your body, but extends your feeling like you can touch every last stone in the city. You feel almighty, endless, like a force of pure power flow. It streams through you, reaching every last bit of your being. And then you snap. The wave washes over the city like a hurricane, takes your enemies down like mere puppets. It extinguishes the fires, leaving only smoldering smoke and the quietness of empty streets.

And then there was nothing. Nothing but you. An otherworldly power with no end and no limits. The deafening silence spreads. Nothing moves. The city is still and calm. For a moment, you’d think you’re the only human to exist. It seems like it. But then you let it leave. You don’t need the power anymore. You don’t need the help, the job is done. Your squad reaches you as the source of the power surge right in time to see the bloody red leave your eyes. You hear their gasps, see their horror-stricken looks. But you don’t care at the moment.

The city is safe. Your friends are safe. Your people are safe. And that is worth whatever cost they think you paid. Whatever consequences they’ll come up with for you. Will they be scared of you now? Hate you? Despise you? You can’t find it in yourself to care, still too high on the feeling of mighty force. You ended the battle. You won it. So why are they looking at you like you’ve just lost?

My dearest, what did you do? Your dragon speaks to you, but you don’t see the reason for their concern.

The assembly argues in the chambers, those uninvited patiently waiting in the hall. You can hear disturbed voices and screams here and there, the discussion dragging for hours. You’re all tired and battered, as are the people behind the closed doors, yet no one dares to leave. Everyone waiting with their breath hitched for your sentencing. You got off the buoyant feeling hours ago, the heaviness of your crimes fully weighting on your shoulders now.

You don’t miss how your teammates, the people you called friends just hours ago, keep their distance from you now, their alarmed looks oscillating between the door and you. The guard stands straighter, as if ready to detain you at any moment. You decide you’ve had enough. No matter what the decision is going to be, you’re sure somebody will tell you. So you leave the hall, everyone watching you surprised, and make your way to your room.

Your and Garrick’s room. He lived in this house long before you, but the day they brought you here, it was clear there was no other right place for you than his own bedroom. It honestly made relocation to the Riorson house much easier. You go about your night routine, taking the all-too-needed shower and changing into a thin nightgown. It helps to take your mind off things you don’t want to think of anymore. The door clicks about an hour later as you’re sitting on your bed, holding a book but not able to concentrate on the words, and not wanting to go to sleep without the man who was supposed to share it with you.

��So?” You encourage Garrick as he stares at you, you’d rather have the band aid torn off quickly.

“They couldn’t decide if they should let you… be here.” He admits finally, but it’s clear it meant something else. They couldn’t decide if they should let you live. “They’re scared.”

“Are you scared?” You meet his reluctant gaze and hold it with yours, so familiarly warm and amiable.

“Of you? Never.” This time he answers fast and surely.

As if to emphasize his words, he gets to bed with you, basking in your so familiar proximity. You didn’t scare him. He admired every single thing about you. How strong you were. How smart you were. How fast you’ve learned. How you never held it against him when he had to lie to you, or not say the whole truth. How you followed him blindly into the unknown, leaving Basgiath and your old life behind. How you helped everywhere you could, even if you didn’t know what it was for. How you didn’t question his decisions but always stood by him.

“I feel the pull. I hear the power calling me.” You admit quietly since his face is only a few inches away from yours. “But I don’t need it. It’s dull and uninteresting. And I don’t want it.”

That seems to settle him for now. You can hear the expecting hum of it, feel the pull it tries to grasp you in. The power would be there only if you’d reach for it. But you don’t want it. It doesn’t excite you, you’re not hungry for it. You don’t let it cloud your mind. You are enough. You and your dragon can take on anything you need. Garrick lays next to you, pulling you into the familiar embrace of strength and protection. This is what home feels like to you. Why would you reach for an endless power when all you need is right here, lying next to you in this very bed?

The next few weeks are nothing short of weird, filled with unsure glances and suspicious slander. Xaden goes hard on you, making sure you’re safe to be around, that you won’t channel forbidden powers under any circumstance. It honestly annoys you a little, but you understand why he’s doing it. He must protect his home, his people. And then, after every test he can come up with, he deems you safe. You didn’t notice you were walking on eggshells yourself until then. You could breathe much more freely and you stopped caring about what other people gossip about you.

The night you come back late from patrol, Garrick is already in bed in nothing but his sleep shorts. A carefree smile gracing his lips as he lowers the book he was entertaining himself with while waiting for you to come back. His own duties were done, and he could always use a little time to relax. But nothing beat the feeling of you coming home to him.

“Hi there, sweet thing.” He smiles at you, setting the book on his nightstand.

“You didn’t have to wait for me.” You roll your eyes on him with a playful smile.

“No, I didn’t. But then I wouldn’t be able to enjoy this.” Garrick agrees.

“Enjoy what?” You furrow your brows in confusion.

“Seeing you come home to me.” He admits, reaching for you as you already crossed the whole room.

His words soften you, reaching all the way from your heart to your very core. They touch every part of your being, the places his hands can’t roam. Damn you’d strip your own skin for this man, just so he can see you better. See all of you. Every little nerve end, because that’s how deep he’s rooted in you. As you swing your leg over his lap, pinning him to the mattress, the surprised gleam in his eyes is replaced with one of lust and anticipation.

“You are my home.” You admit before the first kiss to his lips that opens the floods of many that follow.

He grasps your hips, pulling himself up to discard your clothes piece by piece. Your hands roam his body, his muscles, his strong chest and broad shoulders. This man was like a sculpture of stone and marble, yet so incredibly sweet and soft at the same time. Your jacket falls to the floor, then your shirt, your pants and lingerie follows. You don’t waste time discarding the only piece of fabric that separates him from you, wanting to feel his touch on every part of your body.

You pepper his jaw with kisses, moving onto his throat as he massages every inch of your hips, butt, back and breasts. You moan into his apple, biting his neck and smoothing the flesh with your tongue. Your name falls off his lips, breathless and desperate as he fidgets under you, his hardening member poking you.

“You are everything I need.” You promise him with blown out eyes as you slowly sink onto him. “Everything I want.”

As you move on top of him, you lean on his shoulders for stability, as he squeezes your hips to help you bounce. You take your time at first, having nowhere to run, but with his heaving breath and beads of sweat forming all over you, you pick up your pace as if planning a cross-country race. You bend down to lay kisses from his chest all the way up to his jaw, heavy moans leaving his lips entwined with your name. The new position reaches deeper inside you, Garrick catching your ass to pound up into you, meeting your thrusts. You give him a sloppy kiss full of moans and teeth before your head finds its place in the crook of his neck.

Chants of ‘I love you’s and profanities fill the room, both of you chasing the high together. The thrusts are uncalculated but stimulating, the two of you reaching for the ecstasy closer and closer with every move. He frees one arm to circle your clit, eliciting a long moan out of you, which only spurs him further.

“Garrick I’m gonna cum.” You inform him breathlessly, gathering the energy to pick your head up and look into his eyes.

“I’m right there with you sweetheart.” He blurts out in between heavy breaths.

As you reach the high you bite his shoulder and arch into him, your sight flying to the ceiling. He burrows his face between your breasts as he pants loudly, reaching his own ecstasy in you and slowly helping you ride it out. Your vision clears from the red layer before you look down at him, his face completely calm and fucked out. Another kiss has him coming back to reality to you. He couldn’t imagine a better sight to come back to than your fucked out smile shining down at him.

“You are a piece of work.” He jokes, embracing you in his arms as he lays you next to him, enjoying the contact of your bare skin with his.

“Your piece of work.” You reiterate, snuggling into his shoulder.

After the long day you had, getting to fuck your boyfriend was the exact thing you needed to have a peaceful sleep. He hugs you to him, his strong body molding against yours, wrapping you in warmth and a sense of familiarity. You drift off to the sound of his even breaths and beating heart under your ear. In this moment there was not a single person in the world more lucky and grateful than you, no one more loved than you by the man in your bed.

The sun rays tickle your nose and you burry your face into the shoulder under your head on instinct. Your hand draped over the strong chest of your boyfriend slowly runs circles on his skin as you look up, your sight still glossed over from sleep. You’ll never get tired of waking up in his arms. He’s still deep into peaceful slumber, but your gaze catches on the bite mark you gave him last night. No, not a bite mark.

There’s something else on his shoulder. A white lip mark void of all color and pigment of his skin. The color drains from your face as you realize what you did. You must have channeled his own energy in your need to be closer to him than your skin would let you. The realization washes over you in a wave of uncertainty and fear. You made so sure there would be no calling, no temptation to give into, that you didn’t realize loving your man so much could guide you right into the place you desperately tried to avoid.

You quietly move from him getting out of the bed and slipping fresh clothes on. You couldn’t stand staying even a minute longer with what you did, facing the disappointment in yourself. Maybe you couldn’t outrun your own guilt, but you certainly could try. And you weren’t looking forward to anyone else finding out what you did, much less Garrick himself. If he didn’t before, he would certainly be afraid of you now, maybe even hate you. And you couldn’t blame him.

Avoiding him at breakfast, briefing, lunch and afternoon duties is easy, but over dinner he starts getting suspicious. It wasn’t like you to leave the bed before at least waking him up, much less to never see him during the day. That night you don’t come back to bed, Garrick having a bit of sleep only thanks to passing out of exhaustion. And the following days aren’t much better. He notices a few of your things missing or changing places, clear evidence that you found a way to come back when you knew he wouldn’t be here.

Are you sure this is the best approach of your little problem, my dearest?  Your dragon asks but you’re masterly ignoring them. You know, I’m sure the big one wouldn’t be too mad about your slip up.

And that’s why I’m not asking your opinion. So shut the fuck up. You growl at them as they growl back at your tone.

Watch your mouth. I’m not the source of your troubles Dear. They warn you before letting you be.

Garrick didn’t mind the mark on his shoulder honestly. It was a little unexpected, but it would show everyone who he belongs to and that’s a sentiment he couldn’t say no to. He knew, however, how anyone else would react to finding out what probably happened, so he hid it for your sake. Until he forgot during a sparring session with Xaden in the late afternoon, the open windows of the gym doing nothing to bring the hot temperature down.

“What’s that?” The always so observant Violet asks as he takes his shirt off.

“What?” He realized too late, trying to play it off dumb.

“On your shoulder.” Her accusatory tone brings the attention of everyone else and Garrick tries to hide it a bit, but there’s no escaping this conversation now.

“Did Y/n do that?” Xaden challenges with a frown.

“Maybe..?” Garrick tries weighing his options in avoiding a direct answer.

“Did she or did she not!” His best friend presses. “Garrick if Y/n takes energy from you she’s not safe.”

It may have sounded like a concern for his girlfriend, but Garrick knew better. He was there when everyone avoided her. He was there when the assembly argued about even letting her live. He was there when everyone treated her like the worst enemy, the girl who selflessly gave everything to protect them and their home. When she made the ultimate sacrifice for everyone else but herself. And this is what she got back for it? They were scared it wasn’t safe to be around her.

“I wouldn’t know. She’s probably so ashamed I haven’t seen her since.” Garrick argues back, his words shutting everyone up. “No thanks to you since y’all treat her like a weapon without feelings.”

The gym is so quiet all their sights switch from Garrick to the creaking door as they open, your shrunken form appearing in them. Your eyes lazily scan the room, widening in panic as you see them all staring at you. Without a word you run back out, but Garrick is already hot on your heels. Stupid idea, you made it without seeing most of them for the whole two weeks, sleeping slouched in the library chairs and camping out with your dragon, couldn’t you make it a little longer?

“Y/n wait!” Garrick shouts as he grips your shoulder, his strides longer than yours.

“What.” He turns you to him, but you keep your sight trailed on your shoes.

“Where the hell have you been?” You shrug your shoulders at that as if it wasn’t a big deal.

“I’ve been around, you know?” Your voice is full of anything but certainty.

“Why are you not coming home?” Garrick grips your chin gently, forcing you to look at him.

It’s the same warm calm eyes he knows and loves, only now are they full of fear and doubt. His heart breaks at that sight, he never wanted to see you broken, even if by your own doing. He needs to fix this, he can’t see you struggling when he could have helped it or prevent it at all. You wanted to snap back with the fact you are home, or that this isn’t a home to you at all, but you know what he means. His room, his bed. And with the look full of sorrow he gives you, you don’t have the heart for a witty remark.

“Sweetheart talk to me.” He pleads slowly.

“I don’t want to hurt you.” You admit quietly, afraid to break the moment and make him run away in fear when he finally realizes how dangerous you are.

“You said you’re not interested in the power. Did that change?” Garrick asks.

“No. Of course not.” You retort with a deep furrow of your brows, did he doubt you?

“Then why are you avoiding me?” He challenges.

“Because I can’t control myself with you.” It takes you a minute to respond but there was no denying the truth. “Clearly.”

“Yes you can. I’ve seen you control yourself for months now. And you didn’t change, not one bit.” Garrick assures you but it’s getting harder every day to believe him.

Listen to the big one, he knows what he’s talking about. Your dragon quips in.

This is not the best timing friend. You retort back.

He’s the one putting up with you, sometimes you need to trust the people around you to judge you best. They try to convince you. You are biased.

So is he. You argue back. He loves me. He could never let me go even if I was the worst venin there ever was and there was none of me left.

In that moment you realize you’re telling the truth you yourself refused to see though. Garrick loved you more than anything. He wouldn’t lie to you, he would never leave you, and were you to turn evil, he’d do everything in his power to prevent that. You needed Garrick in your corner, more than you ever needed him before. Garrick takes your clouded face in his palms.

“I love you Y/n.” He interrupts your train of thoughts. “I’m yours. I’d give myself to you even if you were to drain every last droplet of will and power I have. Even if you’d take every last string of life, I’d still be nothing but yours. Fully, truly.”

“Garrick don’t…” But your protests don’t stop him.

“I promise I’ll be there every day, at every step, every slip up you might have. Every doubt that may cloud that strong mind of yours I’ll chase away. I’ll be standing right behind you as you find your path, right beside you to fight your battles by your side, and right in front of you were anyone to try and take you away from me.” He kisses your forehead. “And were you to stumble I’ll catch you. Were you to fall, I’ll fall with you. I’ll be right there, as long as you let me, and even after that, as long as you need me. I promise you’ll never know a life without me.”

“I’ll always need you.” You confess through the tears wetting your face.

“Then I’ll always be there.” He promises without missing a beat.

You hide your face in his chest, his strong hug shielding you from the rest of the world. Even if you were to succumb to the power of darkness, even if the color of blood overtook your familiar calm eyes, even if there was nothing but a shell left of your body, Garrick would still be there. And were you to turn into darkness, he’d be your first follower. Because Garrick Tavis was nothing if not yours.

[writingsoftarnishedsilver]

Ulterior Motives

Another lil one shot inspired by this gorgeous work by @tamayula-hl

Summary: A confrontation in Feldcroft shatters trust and friendship as you discover the truth behind Sebastian's intentions.

Words: ~4,600

Tags: Canon Divergence, Angst, Drama, Hurt/No Comfort, Reader Insert, Female MC, No Y/N, No Hogwarts House

The flickering flames in the common room hearth cast long shadows across the walls as you carefully adjusted your scarf. Spring had crept into the Scottish Highlands, but the chill in the air still lingered, especially in the evenings. You glanced at the ornate mirror hanging beside the fireplace, smoothing your hair before securing the clasp of your traveling cloak.

You hadn’t intended to go to Feldcroft today. In fact, when Sebastian and Ominis had extended the invitation at breakfast, you’d politely declined, citing a looming essay on magical theory and a commitment to help Professor Garlick in the greenhouses. But as the day wore on, you found yourself finishing your work earlier than expected, and a restless energy took hold of you. Something about Sebastian’s insistence that you visit—that you speak with Anne again, see the little hamlet he so often spoke of with both warmth and bitterness—lingered in your mind.

You had grown close to Sebastian and Ominis in the months since your arrival at Hogwarts. Starting as a fifth year had been daunting enough, and the peculiar circumstances surrounding your ancient magic hadn’t made it easier. But Sebastian had been there from the start, a whirlwind of charm and relentless curiosity that had drawn you in despite yourself. He had a way of making you feel seen, even when you wanted to disappear, his easy confidence filling the spaces where your own uncertainty crept in.

Ominis had been slower to warm to you, his initial reserve bordering on coldness. But once he decided you weren’t a threat—or worse, an enabler for Sebastian’s more reckless tendencies—he’d become a steady presence in your life. His dry humor and razor-sharp insights often caught you off guard, but you found them strangely comforting. Together, the three of you had fallen into an easy camaraderie, one that felt as though it had always existed.

Still, you couldn’t deny that your connection to Sebastian was… different. It wasn’t just his dark eyes, which seemed to spark with mischief whenever they met yours, or the way his voice softened when he spoke to you. There was something deeper, something unspoken, that pulled you toward him despite the warnings you’d occasionally catch in Ominis’ tone.

The crackle of the fire snapped you out of your thoughts. You stepped closer to the hearth, gripping the small pouch of Floo Powder in your hand. The common room was empty now, the other students likely still at dinner. You hesitated for a moment, wondering if you should have sent word ahead. But Sebastian had always been insistent that you were welcome, no matter the hour.

Taking a deep breath, you tossed the powder into the flames and watched as the fire roared to life, shifting to an otherworldly green. “Feldcroft,” you said firmly, stepping into the flames.

The familiar sensation of being pulled through space and time left you slightly dizzy, but you quickly steadied yourself as you stumbled out into the village, the faint smell of wood smoke and blooming wildflowers filling the air. The setting sun bathed the small hamlet in orange light, casting long shadows across the uneven cobblestone paths. You straightened your cloak, brushing off a few specks of ash, and began making your way toward the Sallow cottage, your steps hesitant yet resolute.

As you approached the house, voices carried through the open window. You froze, recognizing Ominis’s measured tones, though they were sharper than usual, laced with frustration.

“This isn’t right, Sebastian,” Ominis was saying. “She trusts you. Do you have any idea what you’re risking?”

Sebastian’s voice came next, low and urgent. “Of course I know. But this is Anne, we're talking about. I can’t just stand by and do nothing.”

“And using her?” Ominis shot back. “That's your solution? Even after all she's done for you, you're still choosing to manipulate her?”

Sebastian’s response was immediate, but there was a tremor in his voice that betrayed his desperation. “You didn’t see what I saw, Ominis! In Isidora’s memory—she took pain, real pain, and removed it. Don’t you understand what that means? If Isidora could do it, then maybe… maybe she can do it for Anne too. Isn’t it worth trying?”

Ominis’s sharp intake of breath was audible, his frustration mounting. “Don't start trying to manipulate me, too, Sebastian. I know all about that damned memory, and you know as well as I do that what Isidora did was wrong! You saw what it led to—the suffering, the corruption. And yet you still choose to gamble with her trust for something that might not even work.”

“It’s not like I haven’t thought about that!” Sebastian snapped, his voice tinged with both anger and anguish. “You think I don’t know what I’m risking? I can’t just… I can’t lose Anne, Ominis. If there’s even a chance this could help her, how can I not take it? You don’t know what it’s like to feel this helpless, to watch someone you love suffer and not be able to do a damn thing about it!”

“And her?” Ominis pressed, his tone growing quieter but no less firm. “What about her? Have you even considered what this will do to her, how she’ll feel when she realizes what you’ve done? Because she will, Sebastian. She’s not stupid.”

Sebastian hesitated, the silence stretching painfully long. “Yes. Yes of course I... I've thought about it. But Anne is my sister.”

The voices inside the house dissolved into an indistinct murmur, overtaken by the thunderous rush of blood in your ears. You stood motionless, rooted to the cobblestone path as though an invisible hex anchored you in place. The light of the setting sun bathed Feldcroft in warmth, but it couldn’t touch the cold that had settled deep within you, chilling you to the core.

Manipulate her.

The phrase looped in your mind, a discordant refrain that unraveled the web of trust you’d woven around Sebastian.

You swallowed hard, the lump in your throat refusing to budge as your thoughts spun wildly. The way Sebastian had drawn you into his orbit from the moment you arrived at Hogwarts—it had felt so genuine, so natural. You'd always believed his persistence, the way he nudged you into his plans and centered you in his life, was an expression of friendship. Maybe even something more.

But now... now you were left with a single, unshakable question: Had any of it been real? How much of it had been Sebastian pulling strings, steering you toward some grand purpose only he could justify?

Your thoughts turned inward, replaying memories that had once made you feel cherished, needed, important. Like the day he’d coaxed you into sneaking into the Restricted Section. How he’d insisted you were the only one he could trust, leaning in with that boyish grin that made it impossible to refuse.

The time you’d followed him to the Scriptorium to retrieve that relic he claimed could help Anne. You’d braved dark magic at his side, not because you thought it was wise—Merlin knew Ominis had tried to stop you—but because he’d asked. Because you’d seen the desperation in his eyes, the way his hands shook when he talked about his sister, and you hadn’t been able to deny him.

And those moments, between the chaos of his schemes, when he’d made you feel like the only person in the world who could understand him. The only person who mattered. The way he’d linger just a little too long after Crossed Wands, brushing his hand against yours as he handed back your wand. The late nights in the Undercroft, the firelight catching in his dark eyes as he spoke of dreams and fears he’d never share with anyone else.

You’d believed him. Believed in him. Believed those moments mattered. But now, the cracks in those memories began to show.

The way Sebastian had pushed you to use your ancient magic—not just once, but time and again, under the guise of curiosity, necessity, or friendship. His playful persistence in urging you to master it, to test its limits. Back then, it had felt like encouragement, like he believed in you in a way no one else did.

Yet with the truth laid bare, that tenacity no longer seemed so innocent.

You pressed yourself against the wall of the cottage, the rough stone digging into your palms as you fought to steady your breathing. Every instinct screamed at you to leave, to turn back and retreat to the safety of Hogwarts where this truth could be shoved into the farthest corner of your mind. But your feet refused to move. You had to hear what else they would say.

“She’s not just some pawn, Ominis!" Sebastian's voice rose again. "I care about her. You know I do. If it were anyone else who could help Anne, I’d ask them, but it’s not—it’s her. She’s the only one who can do this.”

Ominis scoffed. “You can’t care about someone and treat them like this, Sebastian.”

“And what would you have me do?” Sebastian’s voice cracked, the weight of his desperation pressing into every syllable. "You didn’t see what Anne was like last week. She couldn’t even get out of bed. I won’t just sit back and watch her waste away!”

“And what about her?” Ominis shot back, his voice rising. “What about her life? What if your gamble ruins her? You saw what ancient magic did to Isidora—it consumed her, twisted her into something monstrous. What makes you think this will be any different?”

The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of Ominis’s words settling over everything. Even the soft chirping of birds and the gentle rustle of the wind seemed to fade into nothingness. You bit your lip, hard enough to sting, your thoughts a tangled mess of betrayal, confusion, and something darker—anger.

When Sebastian finally spoke again, his voice was quieter, almost pleading. “She’s stronger than Isidora. She’s… she’s different. I wouldn’t let it come to that, Ominis. I won’t.”

The certainty in his voice made your stomach churn. He believed in you, yes—but not in the way you’d hoped. He believed in what you could do for him.

“You say that,” Ominis countered bitterly, his voice weighted with sorrow. “But you can’t promise it. You have no control over what her magic will do to her. These are just empty words—excuses you’re using to justify your actions.”

Sebastian didn’t answer right away, the silence stretching unbearably. You could imagine him standing there, jaw tight, his hands probably clenched into fists at his sides. He always did that when he felt cornered, when he didn’t want to admit Ominis might be right.

But this time, Ominis wasn’t just right—he was holding up a mirror.

Finally, Sebastian spoke, his voice low and trembling. “I have to try, Ominis. I have to. If there’s even the slightest chance I can save her, I can’t just—”

“You can’t what?” Ominis interrupted, his tone sharp. “Accept that some things are beyond your control? Let her live her life without sacrificing someone else for your desperation? Merlin’s sake, Sebastian, listen to yourself! You’ve always been so blind when it comes to Anne—so blinded by grief that you can’t see the damage you’re doing to everyone else around you.”

Sebastian’s breath hitched audibly, the crack in his composure painfully clear. “I can’t lose her, Ominis,” he said softly, the words barely audible. “Anne is all I have left.”

Ominis didn’t respond immediately. The air in the room grew heavier, the tension settling like a dense fog. You couldn’t see his face, but you knew why he’d fallen silent. You knew because you felt it too—the sharp, unforgiving sting of Sebastian’s words, cutting through the fragile threads of trust that still tethered you to him.

Anne is all he has left.

As if you didn’t matter. As if Ominis didn’t matter. As if all the time you’d spent by his side—the sleepless nights in the Undercroft, the risks you’d taken, the secrets you’d kept—meant nothing.

A wave of hurt surged through you, so strong it made your knees weak. All this time, you’d thought you were part of something unshakable. You, Ominis, and Sebastian—three against the world—when in reality, were nothing more than a supporting role in Sebastian’s calamity, a tool he wielded to cling to the one thing he truly cared about.

The realization knocked the air from your lungs.

Ominis finally broke the silence, his voice quieter but no less resolute. “So you’ve convinced yourself that we don’t count, that we’re just—what? Background noise to your tragedy? Something to lean on until we’re no longer useful?”

Sebastian turned sharply, his voice defensive. “That’s not fair, Ominis.”

“Isn’t it?” Ominis shot back, the steel in his voice returning. “You just said it yourself, Sebastian. Anne is all you have left. What does that make us?”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Sebastian said after a moment, his voice strained. “You know I didn’t.”

Ominis’s laugh was humorless, bitter. “No, Sebastian. I don’t know.”

Sebastian’s eyes darted toward the window, toward the place where you stood hidden just out of sight. For a moment, you thought he’d sensed you, but his gaze quickly returned to Ominis.

“You’re twisting my words,” he said, his voice thick with frustration. “I didn’t mean that you don’t matter. Of course, you matter. Both of you. You’re my best friends.”

The words should have brought comfort, but they didn’t. They felt hollow, like an afterthought hastily spoken to fill a void. Because no matter what he said now, the truth had already been laid bare.

You swallowed hard, your throat tight as you fought back the tears threatening to spill. It was too much. Too much to hear, too much to feel, too much to bear.

And then your gaze flickered to the window, where you knew Ominis stood just inside, facing Sebastian alone. Ominis—your steadfast, sharp-witted, infuriatingly honest best friend. The one who had been with you through all of this. The one who had seen what you were only now starting to comprehend.

He was hurting too. You could feel it in the tension in his voice, the bitter edge to his words, the way he seemed to waver between fighting for Sebastian and fighting against him.

And you’d be damned if you let him face this alone.

A surge of anger rose in you, hot and unrelenting, overtaking the hurt that had threatened to paralyze you. You pushed off the wall and stormed toward the door, your footsteps heavy against the cobblestones. The wooden door creaked as you shoved it open, and the tension in the room hit you like a physical force.

Sebastian’s head snapped toward you, his dark eyes widening in immediate panic. “You—” he started, but the words caught in his throat, his face blanching as if he’d seen a ghost.

Ominis’s head turned sharply in your direction, his expression oscillating between vindication and sorrow. His pale eyes, though unseeing, seemed to pierce straight through you, as if he already knew exactly how much you’d heard.

Your gaze didn’t linger on Ominis for long, though. You closed the distance between yourself and Sebastian in two quick steps, your eyes blazing with a fury he’d never seen from you before. He flinched, his shoulders tensing as he took an involuntary step back. “I—”

“No,” you interrupted, your tone sharp and unwavering, cutting through the tension like a blade. “You’ve done enough talking. It’s my turn now.” You took a steadying breath, your hands clenching at your sides as you fought to keep your voice steady, though the storm inside you threatened to spill over. “I trusted you, Sebastian. I trusted you.” The weight of your own words crashed down on you as they left your lips, tightening the knot in your throat. “Do you even understand what that means? What it feels like to trust someone with everything, only to realize they’ve been lying to you the whole time?”

His mouth opened and closed, but no words came. His dark eyes, so often full of mischief or defiance, were wide with panic, darting between you and Ominis as though seeking some kind of escape.

“I followed you,” you continued, your voice trembling now, though it didn’t lose its edge. “Every time you asked—no, every time you pushed me to do something, I followed. Because I believed you. I believed you cared about me, that we were in this together. But now…” Your voice cracked, and you swallowed hard, forcing yourself to continue. “Now I find out that all of it—every risk I took, every time I used my magic, every secret I kept—it was all for Anne. Not us. Not even you. Just her.”

Sebastian’s lips parted, but his voice was barely above a whisper. “It’s not like that.”

“Oh, isn’t it?” You let out a humorless laugh, the sound bitter and sharp. “What part of it isn’t like that, Sebastian? The part where you pulled me into every reckless scheme you could come up with? The part where you made me think it was about trust, about friendship, when all along you were just using me? Or maybe the part where you’ve decided to gamble with my life?!"

“Stop,” Sebastian said, his voice tight with desperation, his hands raised as if to calm you. “It’s not like that. I care about you—I care about you so much. That’s why—”

“You care about me?” you interrupted, your voice rising. “You care about me so much that you’ve spent months lying to me, manipulating me, pushing me into situations that could have killed me?” You stepped closer, the anger burning hotter now, fueled by the tremor in his voice that betrayed just how much of your accusation was true. “You think that’s care, Sebastian? You think that’s what Anne would want?”

Sebastian froze, his expression crumpling as your words struck their mark. He opened his mouth, then closed it, his hands falling limply to his sides. For a moment, he looked utterly lost, as though the weight of his actions had only just begun to dawn on him.

“I never meant to hurt you. I just… I didn’t know what else to do. I thought—”

“You didn’t think about me at all," you interrupted coldly. "And you didn't think about Ominis either. But I guess that tracks since Anne's the only thing you have left, right?

Sebastian shook his head, his voice trembling. “That’s not true. You’re not just—”

“Don’t lie to me."

The silence that followed was deafening, the weight of your words settling over all three of you. Sebastian stood there, his face pale, his eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but no sound came.

You took a step back, your chest heaving as you tried to steady your breathing. “I don’t even know who you are anymore, Sebastian. Honestly... I don't think I ever did." You laughed, a hollow, bitter sound that echoed through the tense room. "And I don’t think you know anymore, either.”

A tear slipped down his cheek, and he took a hesitant step toward you. “I’m sorry,” he said, his voice trembling. “I’m so sorry.”

But you stepped back, keeping the distance between you. “Bullshit."

The room fell silent again, the air heavy with the weight of everything that had been said—and everything that hadn’t. You turned to Ominis, who had remained quiet throughout the exchange, his pale eyes fixed on some distant point. He looked tired, his usual sharpness dulled by the tension hanging over the three of you.

“I’m leaving,” you said, your voice steady despite the storm raging inside you.

Ominis gave a small nod, his expression unreadable. “I’ll walk you to the Floo,” he offered, his tone gentle.

Sebastian took a step forward, his hand reaching out as if to stop you. “Wait—”

"Leave me alone, Sebastian. We're done."

He froze, his outstretched hand faltering mid-air as your words landed like a physical blow. The look in his eyes—desperation, disbelief, pain—should have softened you. Before, it would have. But now, it only fueled the anger and hurt simmering inside you.

“You don’t mean that,” he said, his voice breaking, trembling with raw emotion. “You can’t.”

You turned to face him fully. “I do. I do I mean it. I can’t keep doing this, Sebastian. I can’t keep letting you drag me into your schemes, making me feel like I matter to you, only to find out I’m just... convenient.”

“You’re not convenient,” he insisted, his voice rising, his fists clenching at his sides. “You’re everything to me. Don’t you see that?”

You laughed bitterly, the sound harsh and hollow. “Obviously I'm not. I'm just the person you need to save Anne.”

His face crumpled, and for a moment, you thought he might fall apart entirely. But you didn’t wait for him to respond. You turned on your heel, your steps resolute as you headed for the door. Ominis followed quietly.

Sebastian’s voice cracked behind you, desperate and pleading. “Please don’t do this. Please don’t walk away.”

You paused, your hand on the doorframe, your heart aching even as your anger burned bright. Without turning around, you spoke, your voice steady but laced with the pain you could no longer hide.

“You only care that I'm walking away because you’re losing control. This isn’t about me, Sebastian. It’s never been about me. It’s about you. What you want, what you think you need, and what you’re willing to sacrifice to get it."

Sebastian’s sharp intake of breath behind you was the only sound in the room, but you didn’t turn to see the devastation you knew was etched across his face. You couldn’t. If you saw it—if you saw the brokenness in his eyes, the tears trailing down his cheeks—it might undo you completely. And you couldn’t afford that.

You felt a gentle touch, Ominis’s hand brushing against yours. His silent offer of support was steady, grounding, and you took it, intertwining your fingers with his.

Wordlessly, you walked out of the house together, the cool night air biting against your skin. The quiet surrounded you as you made your way down the cobblestone path, your footsteps the only sound breaking the stillness. Ominis didn’t speak, but his presence was a comfort, his hand still firmly clasping yours.

It wasn’t until you reached the Floo station that the weight of it all finally hit you. The anger that had kept you upright, the fire that had propelled you forward, began to crumble under the sheer weight of the betrayal, the heartbreak, and the loss. Your shoulders trembled, and you drew in a shaky breath, the tears that had been threatening finally spilling over.

Ominis pulled you into his arms, his embrace firm and protective, even as you felt his own shoulders shake faintly. He was hurting too; you could feel it in the way his breath hitched, the way his head rested against yours for a moment as if he, too, was seeking solace.

“I’m so sorry,” you choked out between sobs, unsure if you were apologizing to him, to yourself, or to the remnants of what you’d lost.

Ominis shook his head gently, his voice steady despite the emotion lacing it. “Don’t apologize. This isn’t your fault. None of this is your fault," he inhaled slowly. "I should have told you sooner. I... I'm sorry, I thought I could fix it." His arms tightened around you as if trying to shield you from the storm you were both caught in. “I thought I could stop him before it got this far. Before it hurt you.”

You shook your head against his shoulder, your voice muffled but insistent. “It’s not your fault, Ominis. You tried. You always try.” You pulled back slightly, just enough to meet his pale, unseeing eyes, which were glassy with unshed tears. "You can’t take the blame for what he chose to do.”

After some time, Ominis gently released you, his hands lingering on your shoulders as he straightened up. His thumbs brushed across your cheeks, wiping away the tears that clung to your skin.

“Now what?” he asked quietly, his voice laced with equal parts uncertainty and exhaustion.

You shook your head, your throat tightening again as you struggled to form an answer. “I don’t know,” you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know what comes next."

Ominis nodded. He seemed to weigh his words carefully before speaking again. “Back to Hogwarts, then?”

You hesitated, glancing toward the Floo behind you. “Yeah." You paused, looking at him more closely. “Are you coming with me?”

He didn’t answer right away, his gaze dropping slightly as he shifted his weight. Finally, he shook his head. “No,” he said quietly, his voice firm despite the tremor of emotion in it. “Not yet.”

“Why?” you asked, your brow furrowing in confusion. “You don’t have to stay, Ominis. You don’t owe him anything.”

“I’m not staying for him,” Ominis replied, his voice steadier now. He glanced toward the direction of the Sallow cottage, his expression softening with something you couldn’t quite place. “Anne will be home soon—with Solomon. She’s... she’s innocent in all of this. She doesn’t deserve to be caught in the middle of what Sebastian has done. She’s been through enough.”

Your heart ached at his words, the quiet truth of them cutting through the haze of your own pain. Anne. Of course. For all of Sebastian’s manipulations, for all the hurt he had caused, she was the one who bore the weight of his desperation. And she hadn’t asked for any of it.

“She doesn’t know, does she?” you asked, your voice barely audible.

Ominis shook his head again, his jaw tightening. “No. But I don’t think I can leave without making sure she’s okay.” He exhaled slowly, his shoulders sagging slightly. “I owe her that much.”

“I understand,” you said, your voice soft but sincere. “She’s lucky to have you.”

His lips quirked into a faint, bittersweet smile, though the sadness in his expression didn’t fade. "I'll see you tomorrow. We... we'll figure things out."

You nodded slowly, your grip tightening briefly on his hand before you let go, the warmth of his touch still grounding you.

“Tomorrow,” you echoed softly, though the thought of facing all of this again made your chest tighten.

Ominis gave a small nod, his pale eyes unfocused but heavy with emotion. “Get some rest,” he murmured, his voice gentle but firm. “You’ve been through enough for one day.”

You wanted to argue, to tell him that he’d been through just as much—if not more—but the exhaustion in his voice silenced you. Instead, you reached up and placed a hand lightly on his arm, offering a silent promise that you’d be okay. Or at least, that you’d try to be.

“You too,” you said quietly, your voice faltering slightly.

With a deep breath, you turned toward the Floo. The weight in your chest hadn’t lifted, but Ominis’s quiet resolve gave you a flicker of hope—hope that, somehow, you’d both make it through this.

[storiesoflilies]

there is always only a few inches between you and certain death.

the thought is cruel in its simplicity.

it keeps you up during a night that isn’t really a night, but you know you should be sleeping anyway. you press up against the thick glass, feel its cold and unfeeling protectiveness on your fingertips, marveling at how you will never be so close as you are now to touching everything and nothing all at once.

your forehead dips in a hushed reverence, and you are quiet in your vigil of the universe that birthed you.

and astronaut!suguru is there too.

you can feel him before you see him.

it is something in the way that he moves, splicing through weightlessness like had been born within it. suguru is something otherworldly. you feel like he was never from the same earth you were. more like somewhere deep into the galaxy stretching out beyond your fingers, in between a supernova, amidst in a milky ocean of lavender stars.

you don’t say anything as he drifts closer, and neither does he.

there is no need to.

out of all your crew, you and suguru are the quietest by nature. you both understood the fragility of a fleeting silence. it is very hard to find true silence, because there is your mother earth who floats beneath your feet, who yearns for you to come home. and even though her screams are silenced because you have traveled so far into the vacuum of space that you cannot hope to ever hear her, it still reverberates through your bones. it reminds you that you are in fact still human, and not a weightless being unaware of its own existence. so, to be able to achieve something that dulls that constant hum in the back of your mind was precious.

you know suguru understands it.

he is next to you now.

it was a mystery to you as to why he was not the captain on this mission.

not that astronaut!satoru didn’t deserve it, he did. he was the best of them all, the strongest. but it was suguru who could look at a person and just know them. the way he could map the constellations in their moles and scars, see every strand of hair that held every memory and thought and feeling. everybody on board gravitated to him, seeking solace in him when the sheer emptiness of space became too much.

because suguru feels like home.

like your mother earth.

to you, at least.

so, you don’t mind the fact that he is in your space right now, because he always knew how to share things. always softly, spiritually. you both watch the vast expanse of space rolling out before your eyes. his hand shifts almost imperceptibly closer to yours. you like to think you can feel its warmth seeping into yours.

it is such a small gesture.

but it grounds you.

makes you remember that you are solid and whole. it is easy to forget who you are and what you are so far away from earth. even if you can still see the swirling clouds and typhoons from your ship, or watch the sun rise and dip behind her curves. countries and borders do not mean anything to you here. in a way, time doesn’t either. it is an elastic band, stretching at the start of a cycle, slacking towards the end. minutes feel like hours, and seconds collapse into a single heartbeat. the stars do not tell you anything either. they have burned through the rise and fall of the ancients, and will continue to long after your mission is over.

a blink of the cosmic eye of the universe.

inhale, exhale.

in, out.

suguru’s breathing has synchronized with yours. another perfectly human rhythm with its own life that is different to anything else aboard. you don’t know if he does it on purpose or not. you don’t understand him as much as you wanted to. suguru is so different to satoru, who bounces off the walls with a restless energy during their downtime like he just cannot stop moving. satoru consumes the space, filling it out with blues and reds and purples, but suguru seeks the edges. the leftover spaces that are still black and white.

you guess that is how he exists so perfectly with satoru.

maybe that is where he finds you too.

you turn your head slightly, catching his profile. his violet eyes are fixed on something beyond the scope of your comprehension. you’ve seen that look on suguru before. it’s the same look he gets when he’s studying the ships data, or calculating course correction. absolute attention, clinical focus.

and he’s looking at you now.

something in his expression makes your breath catch in your throat.

what does he see about you that you cannot? can he see your blood vessels weakening, your bones becoming soft and brittle as the space that you love is in fact killing you faster? does he also notice that your face has started to swell, and that you cannot think as fast as you used to? you try to swallow against the lump in your throat, but the air is too dry, your tongue far too heavy.

suguru notices.

of course he does.

he softens his gaze, and murmurs, “you’re not sleeping.”

you laugh, a cracked and broken little thing.

“neither are you.”

the words become particles that drift off into the air vents, lost and recycled inside the ship’s steady hum. you let the silence settle between you again so that it feels less like drowning and more like floating. suguru must have been watching you for days, logging your changes into the catalogue in his brain. you used to think he’d been trained for this, how to mould himself to be what other people needed him to be.

but you know it’s just him.

your hand stays where it is on the rail, but his moves closer so that your thumbs are just about to touch. there is no pressure for you to close the gap, there never is. it is an invitation between two people who have said what they needed to without words, who have always known it.

you let your eyes flutter close.

a quiet surrender.

���is it selfish of me to still love it?”

it.

being here – in this place. is it selfish to love the universe, to continue to hover between the stars that are killing you?

suguru doesn’t miss a beat.

“no.”

he would never call it selfish. suguru understands that some things are worth the cost. something like a martyr does. for the first time in days, the glass doesn’t feel so cold under your fingers. you open your eyes, drawn to him like a magnet. suguru doesn’t look away. he is holding the weight of this vastness with you, steady and sure, still breathing alongside you like you are tethered together. if you so happen to drift, if you break your vigil, suguru will be there.

holding it for you both.

the station hums around you, a fragile and artificial cradle in a universe that does not care if you live or die.

you think that maybe you will sleep tonight.

just for a little while.

-•-

you can buy me a chai latter or order a commission via my ko-fi page <3

©storiesoflilies 2025, all rights reserved. please do not plagiarise, translate, or repost any of my work on other sites! i only post on ao3 and tumblr.

[strwbrychffoncke]

"guess thats my own fault for makin you my world, now all i feel is blue,, 1.7k words ⸺ event masterlist synopsis: what would the matrimony between the god of the sea and his beloved look like? contains: lads rafayel x f!mc reader ,angst no comfort ,set before raf + mc reunite (in this timeline) ,depictions of Lemuria ,GoT!raf but hes kinda softer here lol ,possible inaccurate wedding ceremony depictions (never been to one bare w me) ,raf just wants his mermaid bride ugh ,yearning!raf ,thats all i can think of ,basically fluff until its not note: (unedited!) based off the unofficial leak/banner predictions w talk of a wedding card but make it angsty... i just hope i was able to execute it ok..? forgive me rafayel kissers i will make it up to u somehow....

-

the light in the depths of the ocean shone upon the interior of the main palace, highlighting the pearlescence of the pillars stretching towards the top, framing the windowpanes of glass that served as view upon view of the sparkling blue as fish of various sizes came and went. flora of various colors bloomed at the foot of each pillar, each small step, adding a touch of life to the endless royal white, reaching up towards the artificial light of the deep. silk curtains flitted and swayed against the various windowsills, and he was stood by one of them.

he blinked.

he found himself back in that underwater palace, in the middle of a long corridor that he knew all too well.

his arms were folded across his bare chest as he looked around, subconsciously seeking out something, or someone.

he took a few steps forward, away from the window, the various embellishments hanging from his clothes gently jostling with tinkling sounds as he made his way down the crisp walkway. his footsteps echoed down the empty halls, the only sounds accompanying them being the movement of the ocean around him.

a puzzled look crossed his otherworldly features.

the emptiness of the centre was not foreign but uncommon, only occurring should there be some grand event or ceremony taking place at the altar or elsewhere.

he gazed out through the clear windows, watching a school of fish swim by, eyes drifting up towards the waters' surface.

not that he could see it, not from down here at least.

he must've been lost in thought of the surface, because he missed the pitter-patter of steps echoing down the hallway towards him until the person's voice reached him.

"what are you doing here? we're going to be late!"

the informal way in which he's spoken to goes right over his head as he hears that voice, slowly turning his head towards the soruce.

he feels his breath leave his lungs.

its you.

though, instead of your usual attire, you're dressed in something completely different.

from head to toe, you're wrapped up in the traditional Lemurian wedding attire. its still a two piece but mostly white with light blues and pastels- a sign of the uncoming matrimony. the top fit to your exact measurements hugging your chest perfectly, pretty pearls embellishing the neckline with sheer fabric falling over your midriff. the bottoms are a similar white shade, the same pearls decorating the edges, light purple and pink pieces flowing beautifully from them. your shoes match too, creamy white and shiny, clicking beneath you with each step you take.

but what catches his attention the most is the headpiece.

there's pearls and little chains dangling from it and there's the same sheer fabric falling over your face-

your veil.

he's frozen, staring at you, and this only seems to agitate you further.

"helloooo? earth-to-fishy?" you step forward, waving your hand in front of him to break his trance.

he blinks.

when you see this, you quickly reach out for his hand, and pull him forward.

"come on, you don't want the elder to chastise you, do you, your grace?"

the last two words leave your lips in a teasing tone, throwing him a small smirk.

he scoffs, but the edge of a grin peeks from his lips.

"is that any way to speak to your God?"

"it is when you're late for your own wedding!"

he allows himself to be dragged away by you, trailing behind you with hurried steps (keeping up with your jogging as you drag the sea god) watching the way the fabric of your outfit flows behind you, the sounds of the colored beads and chains a pleasing jingle in the silence.

its only then that he realises his own outfit is much more formal than his usual wear (albeit still light, considering he's still shirtless), his outfit matching colors with yours.

a mix of feelings swell up in his chest, grasping your hand a little tighter. if you notice, you don't comment on it.

. . .

it isn't long before you arrive at the altar.

the beginning is a bit of a blur. sure, there's been ceremonies before that he's both attended and been a part of, but this was something else entirely.

all of Lemuria was here to witness the gathering of their sea god and his beloved.

he took his place at the front of the alter first, everyone's eyes following him to his spot, and looked toward the aisle that he only just realized was decorated with various shells, pearls, and small flowers.

something shifts, like a drop of water rippling over the ocean's surface, and there you are.

he had just seen you, but in this lighting, its as if you are the one everyone is here to worship, to watch become entangled with an outsider.

you were absolutely radiant.

you walk slowly, (a little bashful, he notes) giving everyone the time to admire the details of your outfit, the grace in which you carried yourself, your willingness to stand next to their god—

it filled him with a mix of pride and possessiveness.

while everyone was allowed to lay their eyes on you now, they were about to be witness to you being claimed by him completely (and he, you).

all of Lemuria would watch you two come together, as the sea god's betrothed.

two worlds combining in the name of love.

as soon as you're close enough, he takes your hands and tugs you towards him, throwing you off balance and almost making you fall into him, but you're quick to catch yourself.

you shoot him a look, and he only grins at you.

the ceremony begins, and you both stare into each other's eyes as the elder clears his throat and begins with the opening words.

its a bit of a bore, pleasantries and formalities about the dear god of the sea and his beloved joining together in this ceremony of love. rafayel stares at you as the elder speaks, noticing that a lot of what's being said might be going a little over your head, but he doesn't mind.

after all, Lemurian wedding ceremonies greatly differed from mere human ones, considering the dedication it means when they've found their one true mate for life.

Lemurians live for love, after all.

only after plenty of formalities does the ceremony officially come to you both, repeating vows to one another. rafayel wears something between a pleased and amused half-grin when you're meant to repeat words and phrases in Lemurian, trying your best to mimic him yet struggling to do so with how the unfamiliar language feels on your tongue.

after each phrase, you look towards him, tilting your head in a silent question.

'did i do well?'

and each time, he squeezes your hands in response, offering a short nod.

once you finish, he offers a pleased grin, easing the furrow of your brow and watching you breathe a deep sigh of relief.

you pout lightly then— an unspoken qualm.

'so difficult... you didn't prepare me for this!'

he tilts his head slightly, offering nothing but a lazy grin in response.

'i'll teach you more.'

. . .

shortly thereafter, the ceremony has reached its most anticipated point.

"by the power vested in me by the sea, i now pronounce you husband and wife. the lord may now kiss his bride."

his bride.

those words were like music to his ears.

he looked down at you, deep sunrise meeting your bright gaze, staring back at him with anticipation and something akin to nervousness.

he offers a smile, releasing your hands in favor of reaching for your face, parting your veil and cupping your cheeks in his palms.

he leans down, eyes half-lidded, heart pounding in his chest.

all of Lemuria would see...

"my beloved bride..." he murmurs.

the sea god and his beloved were meant to be.

his eyes flutter closed as he leans in.

his lips brush against yours, grazing against the soft warmth of your lips when you suddenly speak something against his.

"wake up."

his entire body goes rigid, and instead of cheers, nothing but white noise seems to surround him.

he feels your hand around the back of his neck, your head reaching up, lips leaning close to his ear now.

"you have to wake up."

he feels as if he can't breathe, like he's a helpless creature that's been cast to the deepest pits of the ocean, nothing but the sound of his heart beating loud in his ears—

he wakes with a start, gasping for air, his hand over his chest.

when he realises where he is, rafayel blinks his bleary eyes open, squinting at the sun peeking through the glass roof.

when had he fallen asleep?

"a dream....?"

he reaches his hands forward to shield the light from his eyes, but his gaze can't help but to land on his empty ring finger.

he drapes the back of that hand over his face, his other falling back to his side.

"my beloved bride......"

how cruel the world was, to conjure up his very fantasy and make it feel so real that he was able to hear your voice, see you in your entirety, feel your warmth....

his thumb absentmindedly traces over his lips.

what he would give to kiss yours again.

he supposes its partially his fault, turning over on his side to gaze at his half-finished painting depicting Lemuria in its glory days, something he'd continue longing to return to so long as it remained forgotten in the darkness— a grave of his creation.

but there was something, someone, who he longed for just a little bit more.

and if he could only choose one, then he figured....

he pulled himself to sit up, roughly rubbing his face against his hands, stretching his sore limbs before deciding to soak himself in a morning bath.

he had long since decided that he would wait on you, his beloved, to come back to him, to reach out to him, so that he could grab you, pull you against him, and never let you go again.

even if that was a wishful dream, he didn't forsake the idea of making you his bride altogether. even if it wouldn't be possible to have it done in his tradition, even if he wouldn't get his familiars to bare witness, that was okay.

so long as the ceremony was done by the shore, the sea's witness to it would be enough for the ocean to acknowledge the matrimony of the sea god.

for now, the sea that surrounded him would keep the secret of the stray pearls that fell from the former sea god's sunrise-colored eyes as he counted another day without you.

-

a/n: maybe i wouldn't have to make him suffer if the GoT had just come home to me sigh..........

-

[fafnir19]

The Irresistible Wish

Liam slumped against the cold, hard shelves of the college library, his breath forming little clouds of condensation in the quiet air. It was Friday night, and while most of his peers were out partying, he found solace in the familiar surroundings of books and knowledge. Feeling a bit homesick and out of place among the popular crowd, he sought comfort in the library's quiet solitude. As he rounded a shelf, something caught his eye. A crystal orb, shimmering with an otherworldly light, lay on the floor. Crawling closer, he examined it curiously. It was intriguing, and he felt a strange pull towards it. "I wish..." he whispered, his voice echoing slightly in the empty library. "I wish I could fit in. I want to be like them." He pictured the popular kids, with their broad shoulders and narrow waists. I wish I could be handsome and confident." As if in response to his wish, the orb began to glow brightly, enveloping Liam in a radiant light. He gasped as he felt his body transform, his skin tingling with a strange energy. "What's happening?" he cried out, his voice filled with wonder and fear. Before his eyes, his jeans and pullover transformed into a sleek, black silk shirt and tight dress pants that accentuated his new broad shoulders and narrow waist. His hair, once messy and unkempt, now fell stylishly around his chiseled face. "I—I can't believe it," he stammered, running his hands over his transformed body. "How is this possible?"

As he grasped the orb, it glowed once more, and his surroundings shifted. Liam found himself in a vast, ancient library, the shelves towering above him, filled with tomes of forgotten knowledge. "Amazing!" Liam exclaimed, his eyes sparkling with curiosity and wonder. "I knew I was meant for something greater." But even in this new, magical setting, the longing for social acceptance lingered. He held the orb tightly, his desire intensifying. "I wish to be irresistible," he murmured. "I want everyone to desire me." With a flash of light, the orb granted his wish. Liam's shirt disappeared, revealing toned, muscular skin. But something was different. Horns, sleek and dark, sprouted from his temples, and wings unfurled from his back, their feathers a deep, shadowy black.

"No, this can't be right!" Liam exclaimed, his voice cracking with panic. He attempted to reverse the transformation, channeling his newly discovered magical powers. But something was different. With each attempt, a strange warmth spread through his body, a tingling sensation that made his skin buzz and his cock throb. His breath quickened as he fought the growing lust that clouded his mind. "Oh god..." he moaned, his body tensing, toes curling as the pleasure intensified. "What's happening to me?" The orb glowed brighter, as if feeding off his desire. Liam's eyes rolled back, a throaty groan escaping his lips as he surrendered to the pleasure, his body moving in a rhythmic dance, wings flapping wildly, the air filling with the sound of his lustful pants. "Please..." he whispered, his voice hoarse, the orb's power overwhelming. But the crystal offered no respite, and Liam was consumed by a hunger he didn't understand, his mind clouded with a single, powerful urge: to find release.

 "Amazing," a deep, rumbling voice said from the shadows. Liam spun around, his eyes widening as he took in the huge red demon before him. "Wh-what have I become?" he stammered, his voice laced with panic. The demon chuckled, the sound echoing through the library. "You are now an incubus, Liam. I knew you couldn't resist the powers of the orb, my dear incubus. You are now forever changed, a bringer of pleasure and a feeder of lust." Liam's eyes widened as the demon approached, his horns majestic and his wings unfurled. He felt a mix of fear and desire as the demon continued, his voice like velvet. "You wished to be irresistible, and so you shall be. But your magic has a price. From this day forward, you will bring pleasure to men and women alike. You will feed on their lust." "No, this can't be happening!" Liam cried, his voice echoing through the vast library. "I didn't mean for this! I just wanted to fit in!" The demon stepped forward, his eyes glowing with an unearthly light. "Your wishes have consequences, young incubus. And now, you must kneel and accept your fate." Liam's body moved of its own accord, his knees bending as he submitted to the powerful demon.

"Please," he moaned, his voice thick with desire. "I can't control this power." The demon laughed, a deep, throaty sound that filled the air. "You will learn, my subject. Your magic is tied to your desires. The more you embrace your new nature, the stronger your powers will become." Liam's eyes widened as he felt a throbbing deep within him, a hunger that demanded satisfaction. "I—I can't fight it," he gasped, his breath coming in ragged gasps. "The power... it's too much." "Surrender to it," the demon purred, his voice like a whispered command. "Let your lust consume you, and you will know true power." As Liam's body throbbed with uncontrollable desire, he knew his fate was sealed. The orb had transformed him, and now, he would embrace his new existence as an incubus, forever. "Yes," he moaned, his voice a mixture of surrender and anticipation. "I will bring pleasure and feed on their lust. It is my destiny." And with that acceptance, the demon smiled, his eyes glowing with a mischievous light. "Welcome, my subject. Your wishes have granted you a new eternity. Now, go forth and embrace the pleasures that await you." Liam stood, his body transformed, his mind accepting the powers that were now his to command. With a final glance at the ancient library, he vanished, ready to entice and enchant, his destiny forever changed.

[sugudollz]

⊹ ࣪ ˖ Kento fucking his pretty little assistant <3

MDNI!! Probably ooc. Sir kink. Dumbification. He bends you over his desk. He’s kind of mean. He pulls on your hair. He refers to you as “princess” n “baby”. He calls you “slutty” like once. “Good girl “ x1. Wrote at 5 AM, not proofread.

“F-fuck—! S-Sir!” You whine as Kento bullys his fat cock into your tight cunt, his groans and grunts of pleasure leaving his lips while sweat drips down his chin, eyebrows furrowed.

He’s got you bent over his desk, your tits pressed against the hard material, skirt thrown over your waist and your hair is a mess. As Kento pushes his hips back and forth so your warm walls can embrace his thick dick, his heavy balls slap against your ass, the harsh skin to skin contact sounding throughout the room.

“Read to me my schedule again, Princess,” Kento’s voice is deep and husky when he demands this of you. Shakily, your hands reach for the papers that have been carelessly pushed to the side of his desk before guiding them to your eyes.

“Y-you have a—board meeting wi-with the—ah!” You can’t help but moan as the tip of Kento’s pretty dick repeatedly hits the spongy spot inside of you, drawing moan after moan from you and your eyes roll back.

Kento chuckles breathily as he shakes his head before grabbing a handful of your hair and pulling you up so he can look at you from the side.

“What? Is my assistant too fucked out to say anything? Dick’s so good, you went dumb?” Kento taunts, faux sympathy in his voice as a mock pout plays on his lips. “Poor fucking baby, huh?” He emphasizes the curse with a particularly rough thrust of his hips before letting go of your hair, causing drool to slip out from your lips down your chin, and you whimper.

“Sir, please! Ngh—!” Throwing your head forward to land on your forearm, cries of pleasure falling from your mouth again and again. Feeling his hips stutter, Kento pulls out quickly, cursing under his breath and making your eyes widen as you whine from the sudden emptiness.

Before you get the chance to complain, Kento places his hand over your mouth, immediately shutting you up. Tears begin to form in the corner of your eyes from the overwhelming feeling and frustration.

“Shh, baby, stay fuckin’ quiet f’me, okay?” Kento whispers in your ear with a somewhat harsh tone, but you nod your head anyways as you allow your tears to leak from your eyes and make their way to Kento’s big, veiny hands.

After stroking his cock in a rush, Kento shoves his dick back into your needy cunt and picking up his earth shattering pace. Not even five seconds pass before you’re clawing at his desk, your ass jiggling from the raw strength of his mouth watering thrusts, a drunken smile embracing your lips as drool spills from your mouth.

“My baby is so stupid on my cock, hm? Can only cry and whine now, isn’t that fucking right?” Kento’s real mean with his words and his hips, but it gives you a profound sense of otherworldly pleasure, so much so that your pussy is clenching all around his thick cock and your stomach begins feeling tight.

“Sir…!” Your nails now create crescent shaped marks on Kento’s desk, biting down on your bottom lip hard enough that your teeth will draw blood, back arching and legs spreading. “F-fuck—! Gonna cum, Sir, gonna cum!” You’re pouting as you look back at Kento, whose brows are furrowed from the force he’s putting into his hips.

“Shit, me too,” he says, “cum f’me, sweet thing, and lemme cum in this princess pussy of yours,”

“Yes, yes, yes, please! Cum in me, please, Sir! Fill me up with your cum!” Your begging is just so fucking adorable, he could never even dream of rejecting it, so he fucks his duck into your pussy like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do and it’s so ground shatteringly amazing, it brings you to your finish quicker than expected, as with him.

Your pussy is creaming all over his pretty cock while your vision goes white yet blurry, and Kento his loading his heavy finish into your sopping hole as he pants like a dog. His eyes are watching your fucked out face, your pretty reactions satisfying him beyond belief.

By the end of it, you’re feeling so full of his thick cum and when Kento pulls out, you can feel it leaking out of you, his beautiful eyes eyeing the way his load spills out of your messy cunt intensely.

“Such a good girl, huh?” Kento teases before pulling your neglected panties back up and fixing your skirt so it covers almost all of your thighs again. “I didn’t know my assistant was so slutty.” He’s joking for the most part, of course—hinted by the breathy chuckle that escapes his throat.

You’re so fucked out, though, you can’t even process his words… not that he minds, anyway; he’ll gladly fuck his pretty assistant dumb over and over again, with no hesitation.

© 2023 sugudollz only on Tumblr — do not copy, repost, translate, or steal.

[blacksunsquad]

Weeeelll👁️

I have something interesting. A cute little picture for a little fanfic I wrote. =}

Enjoy~

« Nightmare »

Fanfiction:

Y/N – Your Name

You are a skeleton.

You are of your own gender.

____

How could you mess up this badly?

All you had to do was find a specific book in a specific library, in a specific castle, in a specific AU, at a specific time—and in return, you’d get a neat sum of 300G. You’d dealt with similar requests before, and in your humble opinion, they’d always been child’s play, especially when you had all the details down to the best time to pull off the theft. You could say you were pretty good at this.

And it seemed like the perfect conditions—perfect timing, perfect job for an adventurer like you. Except, apparently, your informant had gotten the time wrong.

—Damn it.

A quiet curse slipped from your lips in a nervous whisper as the painfully obvious realization settled in: there was someone in this castle.

No, on one hand, it was stupid to hope that a place this massive—drenched in an atmosphere of suffocating fear and grim grandeur—would be completely empty. Surely, someone had to maintain its pristine, presentable appearance. But on the other hand, all your acquaintances had sworn up and down that this place was crawling with nothing but restless spirits—if even that. You see, in this universe, an incident had occurred that left absolutely no one alive.

And yet, someone was here.

Someone was here, living quite comfortably inside this decently intact castle, surrounded by gray—almost black—walls covered in strange runic symbols in a language you didn’t understand. And that someone was walking through the castle right now, searching for an unexpected guest.

Under normal circumstances, you could’ve just taken what you needed and left—that was the plan, after all. But this time, you couldn’t shake the sickening feeling of an otherworldly gaze burning into your back. And it was truly otherworldly —no monster or human you knew could stare like that. It threw off your concentration completely, and for something like opening a portal, you needed to be at your sharpest. Otherwise, you might end up in the wrong place—or worse, lost in the white void.

The shadows seemed especially alive and unmistakably hungry. Maybe it was just the oppressive atmosphere of this place getting to you, but some of them coiled like tendrils, trying to snatch at your legs.

It didn’t scare you much. Places like this always had some kind of mystical energy, but here, something was different. This castle definitely had a keeper—one with far from pure thoughts and a rather grim taste, judging by the blood-red sky outside the windows and the pitch-black earth stretching as far as you could see. No matter how many times you’d been told not to judge a book by its cover, something deep inside whispered: This is not a kind world, and its inhabitant is far from kind.

There was something else, too.

Slow, deliberate footsteps. Not as loud as heels clicking, not as silent as a gust of wind. It was a short, barely-there sound—more like a shiver down your spine, an eerie rustling that sent an inexplicable tremor through your fingers. Haunting. Unavoidable.

It was maddening, making you feel like a frightened child.

At some point, you had no choice but to duck into one of the many arches, slightly disturbing the dim glow of the already flickering candles embedded in the walls, and hide behind the first large piece of furniture you saw—a desk.

The neatly stacked papers looked more like unfurled ancient scrolls, but you had no time to examine what was written or drawn on them. The lone lamp, burning with a yellowish light, offered a sliver of comfort in this oppressive place, but the ringing in your ears wouldn’t stop, not even with the presence of what you considered a massive stained-glass window.

And yet, beneath the icy terror in your chest, a narcissus of smugness began to bloom—one of your hands was firmly clutching the book you’d been sent to retrieve, the one that would earn you a hefty reward. A slow, uncertain smile spread across your face. With every step the unknown presence took, your resolve to protect the book grew stronger—you’d dig your fingers into its thick binding if you had to. At least these thoughts distracted you from everything else.

If you really thought about it, hiding here wasn’t the best idea. First, this arch was one of the few leading to a dead end. Second—much to your dismay—it was clearly visible from the hallway. Assuming, of course, that whoever was following you already knew where you were. But what’s done is done—your only hope now was the pathetic chair partially blocking the view.

Suddenly, the footsteps stopped, leaving you to spiral through one chaotic, terrifying thought after another—each worse than the last. You nearly relaxed, thinking you must’ve been the luckiest son of a bitch in this universe, but then—...

A quiet, careful creak of the chair rang louder than any church bell—and would’ve served just as well if that bell were sentencing you to execution.

Desperation clawed at your chest, tightening like a noose around your throat as cold sweat dripped down your face. Your expression didn’t falter, but the lump in your throat made it impossible to scream. You froze, as if your limbs had been paralyzed in an instant. Only one thought blazed through your mind in bright red letters: There’s nowhere left to run.

Now, the overwhelming presence felt clearer than ever—crushing you into the ground on a whole different level, amplifying every sensation and twisting the worst of them to their limit.

For the first time, you were truly afraid to come face-to-face with whatever radiated such power.

The flickering lamp didn’t help. Gasping for air in the suffocating dread, you tried to recall prayers—or at least desperate apologies for disturbing the peace. Hiding your breathing was pointless now. From somewhere above and behind you came a quiet, bone-chilling chuckle. The stench of rotten apples filled the air. Time slowed treacherously, each second pounding in your temples.

How could you mess up this badly??

— It seems you have something of mine.

A voice hummed softly, as if the wind’s whisper, a shepherd’s horn, and an organ’s deep notes had merged into one. You ducked your head guiltily, pressing it into your shoulders as you hugged yourself—and the book—tightly with both arms. Even the thought of fighting this creature made you tremble.

— Stealing is wrong.

A thunderous growl of multiple voices at once crashed down on you—closer, louder, sharper—forcing your already exhausted body to press harder against the wooden side of the desk. Watching in horror as the dark shadows coiled closer, twisting like living tendrils, you squeezed your eyes shut, refusing to see its face. But to your terror, it didn’t matter—you still felt it. Its presence was in your mind, in your perception, dangerously close to your body as something cold wrapped around your hands. You didn’t even think to pull away—resistance suddenly seemed meaningless, useless.

The coveted book slipped from your grip, taking the last sliver of hope for escape with it.

The lamp shattered with a crack, forcing your eyes open—and finally, you met the gaze of the monster before you.

Nightmare.

__________

End :D

Nightmare by: Joku

[mageknife]

🎲 + arum and anders?

from here; send 🎲 to generate a kiss

41. a kiss out of spite - arum hawke/anders (mild nsfw)

Arum usually made wiser decisions than this. Two apostates sneaking through Hightown under the moonlight were a fight waiting to happen—whether with Templars (worst case scenario), the City Guard (slightly less bad, though not ideal), or any of the miscellaneous Kirkwall criminal gangs (manageable, but quite annoying to have to deal with on an otherwise lovely night).

Anders was usually wiser, too, but when a slightly drunk Arum had proposed the idea, Anders had agreed nearly instantly. “Alright, why not,” he’d said before downing the rest of the chamomile tea that wouldn’t be doing much good to put him to sleep that night. “We have to skulk around this city all the time. Might as well have some fun with it for once.”

And so they found themselves in the alley behind the Chantry, looking over their shoulders as they tiptoed into the hidden side entrance that Sebastian would certainly regret telling Arum about someday.

A left turn down this hallway, a right turn down that one. Through the door with the rounded top that’s blocked off by stacks of empty crates. Up the spiral staircase—careful, the fourth, tenth, and seventeenth steps creak, so be sure to skip those ones. He repeated Sebastian’s directions in his head as he counted the steps under his breath, his left hand on the banister, his right hand laced with Anders’s.

“Maker’s balls,” Anders said through gritted teeth when he tripped on the seventeenth step and it groaned at him as if it were in pain.

Arum winced. “I appreciate the enthusiasm, but can you blaspheme in this house of worship just a little bit more quietly?”

Anders hopped over the offending step with a huff. “Oh, I’ll show you blasphemy.”

“You’d better. If you don’t, I’m not sure what we went through all this trouble for.” Arum squeezed his hand and ducked under the doorway at the top of the stairs that was not built to accommodate a man of his height. The attic’s heat and musty odor hit him simultaneously, and he briefly wondered if this plan would have been better left as an idea.

Anders whistled lowly as he shut the door behind him. “Well, it’s certainly no Blooming Rose.”

“That it isn’t.” Crates, boxes, and bits of old furniture were strewn about with no clear rhyme or reason, a layer of dust coating everything in sight that made Arum sneeze when he ran his finger over a mahogany tabletop. He grabbed the edge of the table and shook, inspecting its integrity, and when it passed the first test, he hopped up and sat on it. It held fast under his weight. Arum exhaled in relief; he wasn’t sure what they’d do if they broke a table in the attic very loudly. They’d run, he supposed. There was a skylight to his left that might get them onto the roof for a quick escape.

Arum shook his head, trying to push his worries aside and focus on where he was right now: sitting on a table in the Chantry’s attic with his legs spread, an open invitation for Anders to sin before the Maker in whatever way he saw fit. He could kneel in prayer, asking an unwatching god for forgiveness he wouldn’t offer before blessing Arum with the feeling of those chapped lips on him and around him. Or he could lie Arum’s back on the table, Arum’s legs around his waist as Anders reached lower between them, filling him with promises that no force in the world, no Chantry or Maker or egomaniac Knight-Commander, could ever tear them from each other, especially not here, not with Anders so deep inside him that it would take an otherworldly power yet unheard of to make them stop indulging in the bliss they both deserved.

“Anders,” he said softly, startling the other from his thoughts that had likely gone in a similar direction as Arum’s, given his darkened eyes and hitched breath when Arum spoke his name. “Come here, pumpkin. Let’s show them what they can’t take from us.”

With two impatient strides, Anders was standing in front of him, chests pressed so close that Arum could feel his heartbeat in full gallop, as if it were screaming at him to flee instead of indulging in such a precarious pursuit. Pale, shaky hands cupped Arum’s cheeks and tilted his head upward, two sets of golden-brown eyes sharing an adoring gaze, an unspoken oath between them that they’d keep each other safe, that even if they were to be chased through the streets by the Grand Cleric, it would be worth it just to have this.

“No matter how hard they try, or how badly they want us to suffer,” Anders murmured, lips brushing the shell of Arum’s ear, “they can never take this from us.” He planted a kiss on Arum’s temple, another on his cheekbone, a nip on his earlobe, a drag of his tongue down his jawline. When their mouths met each other, there was no hesitation; Arum groaned as Anders buried his tongue in his throat like it could tear itself off and live in there forever, away from the prying eyes of any Templars or nosy Chantry Mothers, a part of him stashed deep within Arum for eternity.

He grabbed Arum’s shoulders and pushed him so that his back was on the table, the old thing shuddering a bit with the force of it. “They can never take this from us,” he repeated, his voice a slightly deeper timbre than before, a bit of blue light beginning to shine from his eyes, and Arum knew that he and Anders were not alone in this attic; the third presence seemed to more than approve, though, hungry for the reward despite the risk, spurred on by the desire to show those who doubted them that they would not be deterred by anything.

The same pale hands, steadier now, began undoing the buttons and ties on Arum’s vest, and once that was out of the way, Anders growled and tore his shirt open from the neckline down. Arum only briefly lamented having to repair it later before sharp bites and rough kisses trailed from his jawline to his throat to between his collarbones, and all he could do in response was whimper desperately.

Anders breathed heavily against Arum’s chest. His hands clasped Arum’s where they were white-knuckling the table’s edge and brought them above his head instead, pinning him down on the dusty mahogany. “You are mine, and you will never belong to them,” said a voice into Arum’s sternum. He wasn’t sure if this was Anders or Justice speaking, and he wasn’t sure it mattered; he was entranced by both of them, irrevocably in love, and whether it was one or both of them claiming him, he belonged to them in his entirety.

“I am yours,” he replied breathlessly, squirming as the mouth on his chest licked and sucked lower and lower. “And you are mine. I’ll let this Chantry burn before I let them tear us apart.”

Anders looked up at him with a smile, tender and soft with an edge of near giddiness at this wanton act of rebellion. “As will I, my love. As will I.”

[flow2024]

I wish you would write a fic about irreconcilable artistic differences on a movie set between Joe and Nicky.

not really irreconciliable as in not solvable at all but you know i had fun with this

Joe squeezes his eyes shut, covering his face with both hands, and leans forward. His shoulders tremble uncontrollably. He takes a short, sharp breath, and another, and another, but he can’t quite seem to get enough into his lungs. There’s a lump in his throat and a weight in his stomach. He leans forward with a low, wounded sound and–

“Cut,” Nicky says softly. Then, because it takes Joe a second to hear him: “Joe, stop.”

Slowly, Joe raises his head. Wipes at his eyes and takes a few deep breaths to steady himself. Nicky’s already up, frowning ever so slightly as he looks at the camera. 

“What is it this time?” Joe manages. His voice is hoarse; he has to clear his throat once or twice. Nicky doesn’t look up. The clock on the nightstand reads 01.34, but Nicky’s changed it a few times over the course of the shoot. He has no clue what time it really is, only that it’s dark outside.

It’s just the two of them in the room. Nicky had wanted to keep this one small, just him and Joe and the camera. The apartment they’re in is nice, if a little empty, though Joe supposes that’s the point. They’re in the bedroom, Joe sitting cross-legged on the bed, shirtless, sheets bunched up over his lap, a phone lying on the nightstand behind him. One entire wall of the room is taken up by a floor-to-ceiling window which lets the moonlight in, though there’s a few low lights set up behind Nicky to send bars of silver light across the bed, because the natural light hadn’t quite been strong enough for the effect Nicky wanted. It’s otherworldly; it’s beautiful. 

Nicky still isn’t looking at him, so Joe says again, “What?” It comes out a little harsher than he means it to, but it gets Nicky’s attention.

Nicky runs one hand through his hair. Joe can’t see him well, not with the light behind him and the shadows in the room. “I don’t know,” Nicky says. “It’s missing something.”

Joe has worked with Nicky enough times before. It’s not that he doesn’t like working with him - they’re friends - but he can’t fucking read him, and so after the sixth take of the same scene he can’t help but take it a little personally. 

Joe reaches for the bottle of water hidden just under the bed and takes a long drink, mostly to keep himself from snapping. What time is it? “I can try again, but I can’t do this indefinitely, Nicky.”

“I know, I know,” Nicky says, fidgeting again with the camera, “it’s not you, it’s just–” 

“What else could it be?” Joe interrupts. He’s not stupid. This scene doesn’t work if he can’t get it right, which means the entire film doesn’t work if he can’t get it right. More than anything else, this one depends on him. No music, no camera movement, no dialogue, nothing but him and the camera. And he wants to do it right, he loves this project almost as much as Nicky does, but there’s a hollow feeling in his chest and he’s spent the last however-many-hours having a near-complete breakdown over and over again and it’s still not right. And Joe doesn’t know what it is he’s doing wrong.

“I don’t know,” Nicky says quietly. Now he is looking at Joe, and Joe can’t tell if he’s disappointed, or angry, or – or what. He’s perfectly expressionless, as always. 

Joe loves this job. And he wants to get this right. But it doesn’t mean it’s not one of the hardest things he’s ever had to do, and he’s tired.

“I don’t have much more left in me, Nicky,” he says, and this time he does snap. He wipes at his eyes again, can’t look at Nicky. He’s supposed to be making himself vulnerable, above all in this scene, but suddenly he can’t stand the way Nicky’s looking at him. “Pass me my hoodie.”

“Joe–”

“I can’t. I can’t keep doing this.” He kicks the sheets off and gets tangled trying to do it, grabs his hoodie when Nicky offers it, pulls it over his head in one fluid motion and gets out of there as soon as he can. Thankfully, there’s only Andy and Nile in the other room, Andy lying back on the couch with her feet up and Nile perched on the arm of it. They both look up at Joe as he enters, both look like they’re about to ask, and Joe can’t stand it, can’t be in here a second longer, can’t–

“We are done for the day, I think,” Nicky says behind him, startling Joe. He hadn’t realised Nicky was there.

Andy raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t argue. It’s already the second day of trying to shoot this scene: they’re running the risk of falling behind schedule. 

“We’ll find something else to do tomorrow,” Nicky says. “I’ll look over everything tonight. We will try this again on Monday.”

Andy and Nile look at each other. Nile shrugs. 

“Get some rest, Joe,” Nicky says. 

Joe shoves his hands in his pockets and doesn’t say a word.

–--------------------------------

He doesn’t get called in the next day at all, and he doesn’t interrogate it too closely. Takes the day off, pretty much, because they’ve only really got one scene left to film, and there’s not much more he can do for that. Nicky had wanted to leave it to the last, and Joe had agreed, at the time.

At about nine pm, someone knocks on his hotel room door, which is unusual on a day where they don’t have a night shoot to do. When he opens it, Nicky is on the other side. Joe lets him in without a word. 

“I wanted to apologise,” Nicky says, standing in the middle of the room and looking as uncomfortable as Joe’s ever seen him. “For last night. I was pushing you too hard, and I should not have done.”

Joe closes the door behind him. Nicky fidgets with the sleeve of his hoodie. 

“Sit down,” Joe says. 

Nicky does, settling himself on the edge of Joe’s bed, not quite looking him in the eye. Joe joins him, after a moment. 

“At the risk of sounding cliche,” Nicky says, “it’s not you, it’s me.”

Joe laughs, mostly because the phrase sounds so strange coming from Nicky and also because out of everything he’d thought Nicky might say, he hadn’t expected that. 

Nicky smiles slightly, too. Then he gets up and heads for the minibar. “Mind if I have a drink?”

Joe shakes his head. Nicky gets out a little bottle of wine, glances at the label, and takes a swig straight from the bottle without bothering to get a glass. 

“I can’t seem to get it right,” Nicky says. “You know I wrote almost fifteen different versions of that scene?”

The scene in the script itself is barely a page long. “No,” Joe says. 

Nicky nods. Rubs a hand over his face. “I wanted it to feel real. I thought if I could get it right, it would… help, somehow. I don’t know.”

It’s the exact same reason Joe said yes before he even read the script, when the whole thing was just an idea in Nicky’s head, when they were talking about it over drinks at Andy’s and Joe was in love with the idea almost immediately. He knew exactly why Nicky was writing it; he knows, now, exactly why it needs to be right. But at the same time – “I don’t know if that’s possible, Nicky.”

Nicky sighs. “I know.” He crosses back over to sit beside Joe again, takes another drink from the bottle. “But there is something missing, and I cannot seem to find it. And so it does not feel real. And I know this is not easy for you.”

“It’s not,” Joe says plainly. 

“But you know,” Nicky continues, “I could not have trusted anyone with this but you. If you had not said yes, I would not have done this.”

That, Joe didn’t know: he knows he’d been Nicky’s first choice, but he’d assumed that’s because they know each other well enough already. But it makes sense: the reason Nicky wrote the script is the same thing they’d bonded over. 

Even still, it’s a lot. “I don’t know if I can do it the way you want,” Joe says. 

Nicky looks up at him from where he’s been running his fingers over the label on the bottle absentmindedly. “If you want to stop, I can–”

“No,” Joe says quickly. “But I don’t think it’s ever going to be exactly the way you felt.”

Nicky looks away. “It is a lot to ask,” he says. “I know this.”

Joe doesn’t think; just reaches over and takes Nicky’s hand. “I know,” he says. “Trust me.”

Nicky takes a deep breath. Then he nods. "Okay."

[tokoyamisstuff]

Spellbound pt. 2

Chapter 2: Parce Domine (Lt. "spare, o lord")

3,1k. words | f! Reader | pre-canon | slow burn | not proofread

[Previous Chapter]

"Where is it, bloody hell, where?!"

Anderson frantically searches his room for that particular bible among the many he owns, internally cursing himself for keeping his room so unorganized.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he tucks it from a pile of books, making it collapse. He opens it, shaky hands flipping through the pages until he found the page you wrote your number into.

A clever move of yours, in hindsight - any other paper he would instantly have disposed of, but he'd never dare such sacrilege as to throw away the holy scripture, couldn't even bring himself to rip out a mere page of it.

He's found himself admiring your handwriting, mutely pronouncing your name as his finger runs over the dried ink. You had additionally scribbled a little arrow towards one certain bible passage, along with a smiley and an exclamation mark.

! -> "Therefore, as God’s chosen people, holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves with compassion, kindness, humility, gentleness and patience. Bear with each other and forgive one another if any of you has a grievance against someone. Forgive as the Lord forgave you."

He grumbles loudly at your subtle provocation, but needed to swallow his pride for the situation at hand was dire.

At the very same time on a different continent, you were deeply concentrated with an experiment when you got startled by the ringing of your phone. Not many people have this number, and those that do certainly don't call with a suppressed number.

"Hi! Y/N here" you speak with a cheerful voice despite not knowing who it is, and Anderson can feel his heart pounding against his ribcage at the delicate sound.

For a while there's only silence from the other side, until a grim voice finally wrung out an introduction. "...this is Father Anderson."

A self-satisfied grin formed on your lips. If only you could see his face right now, he's probably seething at this humiliation of crawling back to you.

"Ohh, look who decided to call. And so soon already..." you tease, smugly leaning against your table. "To what do I owe this unexpected pleasure?"

You hear him take a deep breath, the gravity of his sigh a bit concerning. "...a child in my care is...sick, very sick through something otherworldly, but we can't identify the cause. We've tried everything, even our most skilled doctors and exorcists, but..." his voice is shaking in apprehension, "I'm...at my wits end here...what if the boy dies...I can't-"

"Hey." Your whole demeanour shifts immediately upon hearing this, tone stern yet reassuring. "Calm down, it's alright. We'll find a solution, I promise."

Anderson lets out a small whine, running a hand from his face through his hair before speaking up again. "Please, just...hurry..."

It took you half a day until you were close enough to teleport, already the midst of night when you draw the coordinates Anderson gave you into your magic circle.

The orphanage is almost empty as you appeared in a blind spot outside in the garden, sending the paladin a quick message that you had arrived. He came to pick you up almost instantly, a dissheveled mess of a man rushing towards you only to be taken aback by your appearance.

"What in the world are you wearing?" he speaks between grit teeth at the modest, almost pious clothing you currently had. Even a gold cross necklace adorned your neck, and he could barely hide the obvious disdain of using his religion as a disguise. But he bites back any argument due to lack of time. "I'm in the midst of enemy territory, did you really think I'd draw attention by looking like a walking target?"

The priest nods mutely at your reasoning, waving for you to follow him. As you walk unseen through dark hallways, he can't help but keep glancing over to you, unable to decide if he was irritated or astonished by the way you presented yourself.

Seeing you like that almost makes him forget that you were far from innocent. He can't believe his desparation drove him into doing this, putting the orphans at risk by bringing some evil savage like you here.

But then again, this orphanage is not only symbolically a spiritual place - it is enhanced by countless precautions to keep the underworld away. Yet you roam it so freely, without even the slightest effect or repercussion.

Deep down he knew the plain truth - it's because you weren't a threat.

"How is the child?" you cut through the heavy silence coating you two, and his expression turns pensive. "Getting worse by the hour. But see for yourself."

When you entered the small bedroom your heart dropped. A small and frail boy, five or six years old at best had been tied hands and feet to the mattress. The noises he made were heartscattering, his misery causing you to let out a choked sob.

Anderson put on his usual strong and calm front as he walked over to the child, strained creaks filling the room as the massive man sat on the edge of the bed, exchanging a cold cloth on the little one's forehead. "We saved him from the fangs of an occultist a few days ago, and shortly after he fell into this state."

Your bottom lip trembles slightly at the sight, but you tried to keep it together. Not thinking about the impression it makes you pull out a small dagger from your sleeve, and without hesitation Anderson grabs your wrist roughly, twisting it just shy from painful. "Don't you dare try something, wench. I'm protecting these kids with my life, do you hear me?"

The paladin was on high alert ever since you stepped foot onto these holy grounds, and now all of those images Iscariot had indoctrinated him with were resurfacing.

One in particular, the old superstition that witches use the body parts of children to make their ointments.

"Darling..." The endearing term only adds to his fury, blaming himself for having been blinded by your innocent facade. Still, he automatically softens his hold when he sees your face grimace in pain. "Don't you think if I wanted to snatch a child I wouldn't have to go out of my way and come to the Vatican of all places?"

You drop the knife to the ground, looking at him and the boy with pleading eyes. "I just wanted to cut the ropes, I swear. They're unnecessary and cruel."

Anderson narrows his eyes at you before letting go with a frustrated growl, using a bayonet to cut the child free himself. You sit down way too close to the man but he wouldn't protest, since it means he can better stop you shall he not like anything you do.

"That's not a demonic possession, not entirely at least" you ponder, evaluating the black marks spreading like vines across the child's body. "It's a pact. The occultist wanted to use him as a human sacrifice...he asks the fiend a favor, and in return the boy either dies or the curse takes physical form eventually, causing a lot of harm."

Anderson angrily works his jaw, brow sinking deeper and deeper with every word you say - until he sees you tend to the child so tender and careful, genuine worry present on your face. Letting go of the tiny hand to put yours on the priest's shoulder, you try to raise his spirits. "I got this. Don't you worry."

He sees you rummaging in the small bag, to his confusion taking out way more things that could possibly fit in there. You let out an amused huff at his puzzled expression. "Pocket dimension, jealous? I bet carrying all those bayonets is really difficult."

It takes a while until everything is set up for the ritual, and Anderson already dreads how to explain all this stuff if anyone unexpectedly interfered.

You position yourself at the foot of the bed, while you sent him to a corner of the room, still wary yet trusting enough by now. "Oh, and Anderson?" Cutting deeply into your palm and letting blood drip onto the sheets, you look at the priest with a conflicted, almost fearful expression. "Yes?"

Your voice is filled with dread as you tell him your request. "Promise you kill me if things go south."

Although the mental image somehow made his guts churn like he had just been disemboweled, he wouldn't let it show. "...no need to tell me." You crack a forced yet hopeful smile at the man and continue.

The whole ceremony didn't even last a minute, and before Anderson could comprehend what happened - let alone if it succeeded - you collapsed to the floor, holding your face while screaming in agony. Instinctively he drew his bayonets, but then tossed them away and rushed to your side against all common sense.

"Hey, hey, talk to me!" He gently shook you as he called your name, but you remained paralyzed in pain. For a while he couldn't do anything but just held you firmly into his arms until your squalls ebbed down to breathless whimpers.

When you finally recovered and opened your eyes again, he was horrified to see the same pitch black that was tainting the child had swallowed your whole left eye. The iris is white and absent of a pupil, and yet he could still feel your soft gaze on him.

"Heh...heya there..." you chuckle weakly, and he can't help but mirror your smile in relief, reluctant to let you out of his grip just yet. "Oi, you scared me half to death.

"Sorry, sorry..." You blink heavily trying to adjust to the partial blindness on the left, only now realizing the position you're in. Wriggling your eyebrows at the man now that your usual smugness had returned, you sit up, positioning yourself in his lap.

Despite feeling his head spin at the indecent proximity, the priest's attention shifts to the boy again. He looks...better. Great, actually. All marks were gone from his body and color had returned to his cheeks. He was resting peacefully, finally able to give in to exhaustion after such a long period of torment.

"Thank god..."

"God had nothing to do with this!" you object with a sour expression, feeling like you're robbed of your credit. Anderson laughed heartily at the adorable sight, squeezing the sides of your shoulders ever so slightly. "Oh yes, he did. He sent me an angel to save my wee boy."

The word slipped his throat faster than his mind could catch up on and for a while you just stared at each other in disbelief. "...maybe" you mumble eventually, straightening your clothes and hair after standing up again. Seeing him so approachable and uncharacteristically happy for a change certainly did something to you, but you'd rather drop dead than to admit it.

Suddenly the door slams open and you both startle, leaping away from each other to gain some acceptable distance again. Two girls around their early teens bark in, visibly upset for their younger 'sibling'.

"Heinkel, Yumie..." The paladin speaks strict yet with a profound affection, "It's far late for you to be up. What are you doing here?"

"We-we heard screams and got worried" the more timid one of them explained, but the blonde was boring holes into your skull with her questioning glare. "Who's that?"

Anderson panicks briefly, feeling caught. "That's Y/N. She's..." He gazes over to you, sharp features softening briefly as he scans his mind for an answer. "...a-a friend. Yes."

Your eyes widen for a fraction but you're quick to play along to save his integrity. "Right. Your dear father called me to assist him heal your brother in faith. I'm somewhat of an...occult expert, if you may say."

That answer obviously wasn't satisfying their curiosity and they kept prying. "What oder are you from?"

"Oh, I tend to work alone..." You rub the back of your head nervously, pacing on spot. "I'm more of a consultant."

They both stare at you for a while, eyes darting between you and the father until they notice the soundly sleeping child. "So he's doing better?"

"The boy is completely healed." You smile gently as you reassure them, "He'll be alright." Hearing this the two practically rejoiced, rushing towards you as they riddled you with questions.

"That's amazing! How did you do that? What caused it? And why is your left eye closed? How long do you know our Father?"

"Heavens, girls..." Anderson shooed them away from you, adjusting his glasses as he scolded them. "Remember your teachings. Stop harassing the poor gal, we all need to get some rest now."

They pout a little, too excited to want to leave and yet obeying without question. "Alright..." one of them ends the sentence of the other. "...but will you still be here tomorrow morning?"

"I'm afraid not. Remember to study well and not cause your Father over here any trouble, alright?" You put one hand on each of their heads and they beam up at you with a pleading look. "But you'll come visit again, won't you?"

"W-Well...I-I don't think that's-"

"Who knows" Anderson interrupted your pathetic struggling for words, "She's a busy woman, but she'd be thrilled to come when she's needed. Or am I wrong?"

You choke on a gasp for a second when he looks at you as if that was an order and not a suggestion. "I-I mean sure, yes...anything to help..." Oh, he'd definetly get payback for this.

That compromise seemingly placated the already yawning tweens and they finally trotted towards the bedchambers again, leaving you alone once more.

"What sweet girls..." you say dreamily as you look after them, beginning to laugh. "And so well-behaved. I almost can't believe you raised them." Only almost, though. That blunt stubbornness surely didn't fall far from the tree.

"Silence" he speaks between grit teeth, but they hint a small smile beneath. "Don't you dare getting too cocky, little witch."

"Did you truly mean what you said earlier?" You then give the man a side-glance, unbelieving that he'd seriously want to associate with the likes of you. Actually you were prepared to never hear from him again after this was over, lest allowing you to step foot on here ever again.

He crossed his arms in front of his broad chest, scoffing as he internally finished his moral debate. "Why not? After all, you're a frie- ally" he corrects himself in time.

Your lips curled into a crooked smirk at his revelation, yet you didn't want to push his buttons too hard. "I think I might need some fresh air..."

Anderson safely guides you out of the orphanage, away from any watchful eyes until you finally drop on a nearby bench. He keeps a watchful eye on you, face twisting in sorrow when you look up to the starry sky.

Despite everything, you still look like a surreal piece of art.

The priest sighs as he plummets down on the other end of the bench, looking anywhere but your face. "So..." he finally dares asking, though dreading the answer. "What about your eye?"

Leaning against the backrest, you let a hand run over the closed lid. "There was no way to purge the curse, so...I absorbed it instead." You turn to look at him, cheerful and appeasing. "I just need to keep it in check. I'll make it work somehow, I always do. Hell, I bet I even find a way to use it to my advantage. You just wait!"

The paladin faces the floor, arms resting on his knees as the familiar weight of guilt begins to settle in on his shoulders. "Why didn't you ask me on your stead?" You didn't even know this child, but you knew doing this would cost you this greatly.

Again, you just didn't make any sense at all.

"Too risky" you brush it off, waving in a dismissing gesture. "I doubt anyone would be able to stop a behemoth like you if the curse overwhelms you."

"...I honestly don't know what to say."

"How about 'thank you' for a start?" you laugh as if your sacrifice meant nothing at all. Your stoic friendliness despite the circumstances was almost deterring.

Anderson's mind keeps wandering back to what he's been conditioned to believe in without question - that witches are eldritch devil worshippers, capable of heinous evils.

But a person caring so deeply, so selflessly to protect an innocent soul cannot be completely corrupt, he concludes.

"Thank you, Y/N, truly" he speaks in a meek whisper, until his voice becomes more firm as he convinced himself to believe in you. "And I need to apologize too, I...misjudged you."

"No worries. Actually, you're full of pleasant surprises as well!" You pat his back lightly and the touch sents a shiver down his spine. "Didn't think you to be a children's man, for example."

"Heh. And I didn't think you'd be the type to fraternize with catholics."

"Touché." You snort, fondling with the cross dangling from your neck. "But I don't despise christians, I'm very fond of any believers in general." Organized religion that tries to twist their god's teachings for personal benefit, however... "Us witches believe in unison of all humans. Our philosophy is benevolence, unraveling the wonders of this and other worlds, and using this knowledge to aid others...so I'd personally call myself a researcher more than anything."

He nods at your exposition and tries to bite back any snark comment lying on the tip of his tongue. "Why are you telling me all this?"

"Well, I was wondering..." You shuffle closer, stopping only when you felt him becoming uncomfortable. "...what limits you could break if you let me enhance you. I could give you equipment or teach you some spells. Imagine how freely you could move if you can summon those bayonets instead of carrying them in your coat, for example."

Anderson raises an eyebrow at you, his lip twitching in mild distrust. "And you're gonna do this out of your great pagan altruism?"

"Exactly...well, not completely." You poke his chest and he lets out an irritated huff. "You're gonna let me know the secret behind your regeneration."

"Oh please, I couldn't tell you even if I wanted to. Not even I have access to those kinda documents." You grin almost devilishly as you continued to persuade him. "Doesn't matter, I can figure it out myself. I just need you." That wording made the fine hair in his neck raise into goosebumps. "Also, you pretty much owe me one."

Right now it felt like he was offered a contract with something demonic, and it frightened him how close he was to give in. "And I will set my face against anyone who turns to mediums and spiritists to prostitute themselves by following them, and I will cut them off from their people." (Leviticus 20:6)

This again. Ugh. "Your regeneration ability also isn't standard nature. As are our conjurations. It's all science at the bottom line, or god-given, or whatever you want to call it."

"...let me think about it."

Gotcha.

"Well, you know how to find me, darling" you coo and he feels his resolve crumbling, the sound of your voice a witchcraft in itself. "You wouldn't be the first cleric to accept enlightenment."

[Next Chapter]

[steviestits]

I Move the Stars For No One - Part 1.3

Written for a prompt dmed to me, which can be read in its entirety on this fic’s masterpost.

Pairing: Steve Harrington/Eddie Munson Rating: T (E for later chapters) Summary: After running away from home after an argument with his father, Steve storms off into the woods only to accidentally stumble into the unseelie king's lavish party. The king, Eddie as he likes to be called, is taken by Steve and dances through the night with him. Though Steve enjoys himself, he feels the need to return to the mortal realm, but soon learns that he can't as he has become property of the king after trespassing on a sacred fairy circle. Steve is forced to stay and begins to learn that all is not as it seems, especially in regards to his own past. (Labyrinth inspired story but they share zero plot points.) Trigger Warning: None for this chapter Eventual Trigger Warning: Feminization, Mating Rituals, Heats/Ruts but not the Omegaverse kind

(Link to previous part)

Steve inhaled sharply as he was tugged near until he could see every freckle on the fae king’s face. He was dazzled for a moment, only able to stare into Eddie’s big, brown eyes, but he quickly regained his senses and tried to shove the other away roughly. It felt like pushing against a steel wall as the other refused to budge.

“I don’t want to learn!” Steve huffed, punching his fists uselessly against Eddie’s chest. “You can have anyone in this room! Choose one of them to be yours!”

“Those fae aren’t half as beautiful as you, sweetheart. I mean, you have to see how jealous they are of you.”

Blush dusted Steve’s cheeks. He knew he was good looking in the human world, but here? Everyone had a deep otherworldly feel that added a strange depth to their allure. Though, he supposed the same could be said for Eddie since he was used to seeing these types of people and hadn’t been exposed to those outside his realm. Once Eddie got used to Steve’s unnaturalness then he’d tire of him and move on, just like everyone else he’d dated in the past.

“Just empty words and empty phrases,” Steve said. “It’s the passing fancy of a king, like a child with a new toy. Nothing more.”

“I can promise you that it’s not,” the fae king whispered, staring Steve down with a smoldering gaze. “Let me show you.”

Eddie then ran the knuckle of his index finger down Steve’s face, and the next thing Steve knew he was standing in a circular room that had a giant tree growing in the center. Branches strewn with light pink apple blossoms stretched up towards a starry lit ceiling. Steve would’ve thought they were stars, but they twisted down the tree like vines and wrapped around the posts of a bed nestled against the tree’s trunk. Sheer, white drapes hung between the posts, which matched the pure white linen sheets spread across it.

Moments after they arrived, a table and two chairs appeared in front of the bed. It matched the other wooden furniture in the room, except that it was a bit fancier as carved, gilded vines wound their way around their legs and the backs of the chair. Spread out atop the table were several frosted pastries on a three-tiered silver stand accompanied by a porcelain teapot, painted with a sprawling array of the most detailed meadow flowers that twisted and curled along its sides. Steve had honestly never seen anything like it except in historical movies.

“You missed the feast at the start of the ball,” Eddie explained. “Eat as much or as little as you want. If there’s anything else you want, then it’s yours.” Steve opened his mouth. “Anything but letting you go,” he added quickly as if sensing what Steve was about to say. “You’re mine now, sweetheart. Going to spoil you rotten.”

“How do you know that I’m not already spoiled rotten by my own family?” Steve challenged. “They could be searching for me right now.”

Eyes lingering on the bruise forming on Steve’s face, the fae king said, “I highly doubt that.”

Shame and embarrassment ran through Steve as he hated how obvious it was that his parents cared so little about him. Or maybe it was Steve’s own fault for falling short of the plans that were laid out for him. Either way, no one at home would be looking for him as he knew his dad was waiting patiently for Steve to come crawling back.

“Enough talk about the mortal realm,” Eddie said. “Eat. Unless you’d prefer something else. I can change it to whatever you prefer.”

“This is fine.” Steve paused as his stomach grumbled. “They look tasty.”

“They’re yours. You’re free to have your fill.”

Steve stared longingly at the food on the table. He hadn’t had dinner because of the fight and had skipped lunch due to nerves after receiving his latest rejection letter. Legends had it that if one ate food in the fae realm then their fates would be sealed, and they would be unable to leave ever again. However, Steve didn’t know this due to his lack of fantasy education, and even if he did, his stomach gurgled loudly, demanding to be fed.

The rumbling was so loud that Eddie must had heard it, because he walked over to the table and picked up a flaky, round pastry with chocolate frosting to bring back to Steve. He held the pastry up to Steve’s mouth, waiting patiently. To Steve’s surprise, the fae king’s eyes were soft, gazing at Steve with a heated emotion that he’d never seen directed towards him until now.

Hunger gnawed at him further, and coupled with Eddie’s gaze, Steve leaned forward cautiously in order to bite the offered treat. His teeth dug into the flaky shell, only to be surprised when he bit into a pocket of sweet custard filling. The taste of the custard exploded on his tongue, causing Steve to groan with pleasure as he’d never had anything quite like this before, mostly because his dad thought sweets were girly but also because the flavor was just so good.

Eddie smirked affectionately. “Like it?”

“Yeah,” Steve said with a nod. “It’s amazing.”

“Then have the rest. This is all for you.”

With less reservation this time, Steve ate the remains of the pastry in Eddie’s hand, blushing when the fae king’s fingers brushed softly against Steve’s lips. Eddie didn’t stop, however, and soon another pastry was against Steve’s mouth as the fae king eagerly fed him. He could’ve walked to the table to get his own, but he instead allowed Eddie to serve him, as if Steve was the king instead of an outsider.

Heat pooled within the core of Steve’s being, only he barely noticed. He was too caught up in the moment to realize that there was something strange about the way he was feeling. A change was about to happen, one that would change his life forever and throw everything he knew into question, not that Steve noticed. Not that Steve could look anywhere except the fae king’s eyes.

Part 1.2 ~ Masterpost ~ Part 2.1

[krnsluvvie]

love at first, love at second, love at last

diez: nuestros recuerdos (+ wc: 2.8k)

SUMMARY: sae had chosen his career and that was shortly followed by his and y/n's separation. three years pass by and amongst all the lurking and stalking each other's socials, sae is suddenly found back in their hometown. old feelings are resurfaced, current ones are questioned and a whole load of future ones are found in a blur.

nueve | masterlist | once

the second school finished, you bid isagi and kurona goodbye as you grabbed your belongings and dashed towards the bus stop. they regarded you with a wave, a reluctant look of surprise crossing their features. because if anything, you're the one leaving last. always.

but today was different. because you had a plan. and you were going to make it all about your friends. 

all day long they're swarmed with practice and the best you can get is a text after a few hours. honestly and frankly, you missed them. 

an amazing, otherworldly, idea struck your brain during your maths class and you couldn't just leave it for naught after all the planning instead of paying attention.

their practice usually starts at 5pm so you'll stick to that. at times, it can be 6pm–so if it comes to the worst case scenario, you wouldn't mind waiting an hour more.

the plan was simple: get home, change out of your uniform, grab your parents' car keys and leave your home with one destination in mind: xxx stadium. 

on second thought, you might run into rin as well, and it doesn't look promising that he'd show up, so with a deep sigh you sprint up the stairs to your room and grab his phone in a hurry. 

surely they must be hungry, ravenous, after ungodly hours of practicing. so you place an order before you finally leave your sacred space.

you start up the car and within a few minutes, you make a turn as you make a stop by the local restaurant to pick up your food. 

you bring the bag close to your nose. it's always as you remembered: warm, delicious and heavenly. there's no doubt it was going to taste divine. you can't wait to dig in with your friends. 

they've been practicing like crazy and even if you've been relentlessly asking them to hang out–despite getting rejected each time–you wanted to show support somehow.

isagi and kurona have always been by your side and although they can get lost in the football world (this fact reflects on their grades and additional homework), they try their best to be there for you. you smile as your hand grabs the gear stick and shifts it to a neutral as you reach a red light. you lean against the window, a hand on the steering wheel, looking up and waiting.

the light turns green in the blink of an eye and you swiftly shift it to the first gear as you slowly step off the clutch with your left foot and steadily add gas with your right one.

whether they liked it or not–changing to the second gear–you were going to show up to their practice–now to the third one.

and, moreover, who would refuse fried chicken?

the stadium appears to your right and you use your blinker to indicate a change of your direction. 

shortly after, you're found in a parking lot which is strangely too empty. especially around this time. well, whatever, more space for your parking. and less stress.

you grab your backpack, the food and your cap from the passenger seat. upon locking the car, you place it on your head as you adjust it. you get your student ID ready as you show it to the security outside. the stadium is sometimes used for practice for your school's football team–isagi and kurona's–so of course you're going to get in. illegally or not is not important.

the guy checks it out and then looks at you. you give him a slight smile as he returns the card to you and moves to the side. looking sporty will always guarantee a pass. i'm so fucking smart.

you pass through a long hallway until you reach the end of it. you've been here before but still, you're ever so amazed by the almost abyssmal capacity and the greenness. 

the lights nearly blind you as you finally get to it. it's barely past 5 and the sky got darker than it was when you went out. a slight breeze passes by you and you shiver. the cold weather's just around the corner it seems.

you make your way towards the elevated bleachers as you make yourself comfortable: setting your things aside and curling into your hoodie. good thing you decided for a long-sleeved tee underneath. 

there are people on the pitch–a good sign someone's here, after all–and your eyes wander. you can't see much but it doesn't matter because all you're looking for is #11 and #16. your best and favorite players of all times. of course.

maybe it's the fact that you haven't been going to their practices as much as you'd like, but this team of people… you don't seem to recognize them. at all.

their jerseys are a totally different color from what you remember: white with pinkish red lines. even the training bibs look different. they were black the last time you went. 

you pull out your phone from your pocket.

great. maybe you should have asked. but that would have definitely arisen some suspicions. a total lose-lose situation.

since you're here already, you might as well watch how your friends' opposing team plays. you catch a tall guy running towards the goal posts in your peripheral. his hair is dark, with green ends to them–this must be oliver, no doubt. there's an arm band around his well-built bicep with a letter C on it. your eyes widen at the realization. no way he's the captain? 

he dons a jersey with number 2. 

out of curiosity, you search for their #11 and #16. 

number 11 spreads across a fairly tall guy's back. his hair is reddish with sweeps to the left.

all this squinting is going to make your head hurt and form creases on your forehead, and probably faint at this point. you grab your things and move a few rows closer.

as for kurona's number, that's nowhere to be seen. well, fear not, he was going to be warming your side anyway. 

as much as you try to stop yourself from looking any further, your eyes find #10 in a record time. your eyes run up the wearer's body and undoubtedly… this is sae.

your lips form into a thin line as bitterness fills your mouth. you grab the bag and open one portion of the chicken and take a bite–it's cold and… unenjoyable. main factors: it’s without your friends and you seemed to have lost all the appetite.

this was a waste of your time. and your money. hopefully the chicken can be reheated and remain crispy, otherwise you are going to lose it.

should you go home? should you stay?

it's been a while since you went to a match and truthfully, you didn't seem to miss it. usually you're there for your friends to support them, other than that, there's no other purpose. 

but your feet stay glued on the ground.

it's getting chillier and chillier but your eyes are fixed on number 10. his hair is still the same yet different–fucked up all the same.

that is not what catches your attention, however. it's the way he plays and dominates the field. even back then he was exceptional and his current playstyle might seem slightly different if not identical to the untrained eye but… you know better.

his skills are enhanced now and even his physical stats have changed. tremendously so.

he also seems to have better control over the ball. 

good. you scoff. spain did you good, huh?

you open your phone and start mindlessly scrolling through every social media account you have. you don't want to go home just yet. surprisingly. the streets should be almost empty by night–which is so much more enjoyable while driving. and you were planning on getting ice cream anyway.

as the clock ticks 8pm, you decide to gather all your belongings and make a beeline for the exit. the football players seem to be still discussing tactics so you might have to make this fast before they catch sight of you. 

a second before you reach the dark hallway you hear a, “stop.”

was it aimed at you? with clenched fists, you keep walking ahead.

“yo, we said stop!”

you stop dead in your tracks, slowly turning around. there was no point in getting out of this anymore.

fully turned around, you're faced with many unfamiliar faces. at the front it's–of course–oliver whose face is contorting; he's probably refraining himself from grinning. or not. 

“y/n, what a pleasant surprise.” he says, voice calm and breezy–as if this was the most normal occurrence. 

mr. number 11 turns to look at oliver. “you know them?”

oliver nods. “we're acquaintances. there's someone who knows them more.” his eyes momentarily flick to his left. you follow his indication; there's sae leaning against one of the goal posts, arms crossed and a look cast downwards. 

“what brings you here?” oliver asks instead.

you gulp. “i thought isagi and kurona were going to be here.”

oliver sighs. “i see. well, that's too bad.”

oliver is not anything like you thought of him to be. and that's totally on you for thinking that! 

“i guess.” you say, puzzled. “i'll be taking my leave now.”

“wait, y/n.” you raise your eyebrows, waiting. “our newest addition here,” he jerks his head towards where sae is, “has actually injured himself and we just sent shidou to get the first aid kit.”

what does that have to do with me? sits on your tongue but then a voice interrupts your thoughts.

“i told you it's fine. it's just a scratch.” sae says, his voice deeper than you remembered. or maybe this is how he had always sounded—it’s not like you wanted to think about the past. you spare him one look but when your eyes meet, you both look away.

“yeah, yeah.” oliver gets closer to you and pats you on your back. you’re taking every height comment you’ve made about him back as he towers over you. “we're counting on you.”

you can't bring yourself to move as you freeze in one place. what the fuck. 

the rest of the team follows oliver as he passes you. they either nod at you or don’t spare a look at all. 

once they’re out of sight. you hear a sigh. 

“what’s taking that demon so long to get back?” he mumbles under his breath.

as if on cue, shidou emerges from the other side with a jump in his steps as he approaches. “i got the—

“oh.”

“shidou.” you fully acknowledge him.

“y/n.” he does the same.

your mouth twitches at the attempt of not breaking out into a grimace. 

a ding resounds through the pitch. you quickly check your phone but there are no notifications. you look up and it’s shidou reading a message he’s been sent. 

“oliver said we’re free to leave. and to leave you a—” he stops himself. “haha, i’ll take my leave now. good game today, underlashes senior~

“it was nice seeing you, too, y/n~” and… he’s off.

technically, you can also leave because there is no one chaining you to the ground. unless sae decides to be a dick and chase you down. 

whatever. 

your legs move on their own to the hall where you came from but then you stop abruptly. you squeeze your eyes in an internal battle between staying because you're a genuinely good person or leaving because the person in question doesn't deserve your kindness. this all only adds fuel to your frustration. shoulders slouched, a sigh leaves past your lips as you choose the former and walk towards sae. “where does it hurt?”

“y/n.” his voice is unusually soft and if you didn't know any better, it sounded like he was holding back a sob. what a baby. you crouch down and take a good look at his knee. “must have taken a pretty nasty fall, didn't you?”

“you can go, you know.”

you ignore it. 

“where's the kit?”

“behind you.”

“sit on the bench,” you instruct him to do so and he obeys. you grab the necessary items and subsequently take a seat on the concrete near the grass. you gently grasp onto his ankle and he eases up into your hold. “your hand's cold.”

“you can handle it.” it sounds harsh. especially with how fast you responded. quickly, you add, “sorry.” you bring your hands close to your mouth as you blow the warm air onto them.

with cotton balls and swabs you wipe off the blood that rolled down his leg from the wound– all with the additional help of your water bottle. good thing you haven't opened it yet. or more like, lucky for him. 

the wound isn't big so you only opt for a bandaid. or two.

“okay, you're good as new.” you get up from the ground but it's too fast as you wobble forward. thankfully, you catch yourself in time by holding onto the seat for dear life. 

sae leans down. “you good?” and offers a hand.

“yeah.” you take his hand as if that was your second nature. the grasp he has on yours is strong but you reciprocate it with as much strength. 

“thanks. by the way.” he says as you're now facing each other. there's still a slight difference in height between you two, and you hate looking up. you avert your eyes elsewhere. “no big deal.”

“and i'm sorry.”

you look back at him but now it's him that's looking away, avoiding your eyes. 

“we're not–”

your hand is still in his and he uses that to his advantage as he pulls you close and embraces you. “push me away if you don't like it. but please, let me have this moment. just for a little.”

the familiar scent hits your nostrils and against your better judgment, you lean into him. it's still the same cologne as you remember, distantly. he also never seemed to sweat as much which appears to stay the same. has he changed at all?

fuck you, itoshi sae. fuck you.

it's like a mantra at this point. but it's you who's the hypocrite here as you pat him on his back and you both are stood there in silence, in each other's arms.

you already went this far so might as well ask him.

“do you want me to take you home?” your voice is soft, carrying a tilt of tiredness.

sae's eyes sparkle as he grabs your shoulders, forcing you to look at him. “if you don't mind… i can drive.” he adds on second thought.

you exhale. “sure.”

~

the whole car ride is rather awkward. but it's strangely manageable.

“you got your license in spain?” you fiddle with your fingers in your lap, looking out of the window. it's the first time after a while that someone's driving you around after getting your own license. 

sae grips the steering wheel and inhales. “yeah, though i should be retaking an exam just to be sure.”

you hum. 

there's a tight feeling in your chest. you were supposed to get your driver's licenses together. obviously, things had changed and there was a lot of changes you both had to take care of, but the feelings still reside in your mind, not so easily fading away. 

you were aware that both of you had to move on with your life one way or another. but this fact eats away at you, bothering you. just since when did they start resurfacing again?

the remainder of the ride is spent in silence as he makes the last turn. you're currently in the suburbs, just a few minutes away from entering the city again. this is definitely not where the itoshis live–as far as you're concerned. 

“okay, we're here.” sae announces as he stops the car and engages the handbrake.

you get in the driver's seat as he gets out. “itoshi, wait.” you grab your backpack and take out rin's phone, handing it to sae. “can you give this back to rin? i don't think he'll be coming around anytime soon.”

sae purses his lips, lost in thought. this was not his phone, nor his business to deal with. despite all of it, he says, “sure. i'll try.”

“thanks.” you say before you drive off towards the city. the perspiration is dripping down your temples and you have to roll the windows down to cool yourself. 

as sae watches you leave, he runs a hand down his face.

they still call me by my family name, hah. 

it shouldn't hurt, fuck, it shouldn't even bother him but it does.

the gym bag is pitifully thrown on the ground as he takes out his phone and sends a message without thinking.

he lets the message marinate as he gets into his apartment and jumps straight into the shower, distracting himself.

some minutes pass after he gets out, a towel around his neck. then, a ding is heard from his phone and he checks it almost right away.

sae's mouth twitches. 

okay, this is good.

this is enough, he thinks.

a/n: this was such a bitch to write omfg but we reached the end of the first act yaaay i hope you're enjoying the story so far:')

tag list: @kiopanxp @funtuki@silly-ez @asteroskoniiii @keijiqahara @pikibee @tamimemo @kaitfae

[project-revival-theory]

[Otto meditates, alone in the room at times, aware of the gifted bracelet flickering on and off as he reaches for new thoughts. He tries to be methodical. This is how he prefers to approach things, when he has the chance. Trace the thought, let it sit, let it brighten into coherency or fade as it will.]

[Otto doesn't know how to define his own experience of being a man. That much he can admit freely now, although it comes with a certain amount of concern. In place of the certainty he likely is meant to possess rests a long, slow absence: one he may never have felt had someone not pointed him towards the empty space and asked him to describe its contents.]

[He thinks of Eight now, their lack of connection, and wonders briefly if something similar might apply to him. Otto appreciates his name, however, and has never felt uncomfortable in his body save for the changes forced upon it since he found himself trapped here. That can't be right, then; and surely he would have made such a revelation far sooner had it existed to be made.]

[That's very nearly the end of it. Several minutes pass, and the conclusion Otto came to was unsatisfactory but no other became apparent. Not until he adjusts his skirt in preparation for sleep does something new occur to him. That 'something' being his clothing. Flowing skirts and soft sweaters, the feminine pieces he finds remarkably comfortable, doubtless due to the otherworldly nature of his grandchildren's gifts. They, who call Otto Grandmother, except for the most recent visitor. Something about their message, their questions, left him on edge. He missed the warmer, more familiar title then.]

[Otto is... Anxious, now. He accepts this new emotion without protest, unable to find its exact source. Perhaps his inability to answer his grandchild's questions. He can always continue this particular line of self reflection at a later time, so he returns to the other, and finds he still can't do it.]

[No matter how long he turns them over and over in his mind, what's it like, why don't you think you're good at it, he can't. Not in any way that feels meaningful. And then the thought comes, almost without shape at first, and then clearer, circling around from earlier in his meditation:]

[What if I’m not?]

[He lets it sit. What he experiences is entirely unlike what Eight has described, but they are beginning from opposite points, which could account for the difference. Differing endpoints would likely have some effect as well, and he certainly isn't... Nothing, or some nebulous in-between.]

[There's no fanfare when he lands on the natural conclusion he's been avoiding thus far even as he reached for it, no relief or anger or strong disbelief. There is only a deep quiet: the moment when the wind stops, an opposing force vanished.]

[Otto runs her hands over the sleeves of her sweater, and that doesn't sound terrible, does it? It's a similar feeling to being called grandmother. Alright, then. She closes her eyes. That's all right. It's a little strange, but only because it's new, she thinks. She thinks. He thinks. It's definitely new, but it's not uncomfortable. He might like it better than what he had before. He. She. Otto closes his eyes (her eyes?) and accepts that this will take some time to adjust to, but the end result will likely be worth it.]

[laetyrell]

Chapter 1 – Into the Golden Woods

„This writing may be used as a guide on how to survive an encounter with the fair folk. Though the author advises you to follow their advice, the reader should stay weary, as none should trust the fae.“

Sleep had come late, and when I finally woke and peered out of the window, the sun’s rays danced through the trees, bathing them in a warm, golden light. The woods, no longer menacing, had returned to the charm they had in my childhood.

I get dressed quickly, leaving the cabin in the early hours of the morning. I took a step forward and let my feet carry me into the forest. The thick pine trees on both sides of the trail looming over me, offering shade — but still allowing the sun’s rays to dance on the forest floor.

The faint chirping of birds was the only indication I wasn’t alone on the trail.

Was the forest always this quiet?

With each step deeper into the woods, my body feels lighter, as if the forest was absorbing the worries that had plagued me the last day and night. As I walk, a faint smile forms on my lips, the sun warming my face.

I was glad I had put on a short pair of hiking pants — despite yesterday’s pounding rain, the woods were warm and alive, almost reminding me of my childhood.

Long ago, when I was little, I used to run along this path. The flowers blooming in vibrant yellows and purples, ferns bowing, brushing my ankles — as if I were a little princess. My eyes trail across the tall trees as I follow the path.

They must be ancient.

Who knows what secrets they kept inside their whispering leaves?

As a child, I truly believed my aunt’s stories about the magical creatures that supposedly lived in the forest, and even now, the ancient atmosphere makes the forest almost feel enchanted.

No wonder my aunt still believes in her old stories.

But then… a plastic wrapper. Bright, empty and sticky.

Jason.

They must have passed this place. He always had a habit of throwing his trash on the ground. I bend down to pick it up.

No need for an animal to choke on this.

CRACK.

I freeze, my body went still as my eyes scan the tree line, but then I see it.

A stag. A large one, was only a few meters away from me.

My mind and body feel benumbed.

The creature was huge, the antlers intricately woven together like a crown. The creature demanded respect, his eyes scanning me as if determining if I was a threat to his kingdom.

But the eyes…they were enchanting. Otherworldly. Not brown or black, but deep pools of… lavender.

I had seen him before.

I had been playing hide and seek with my mother when I first saw him.

I remember running, my dress fluttering with each step as I ventured deeper into the woods. My laugh echoing through the trees when I saw him. Wise, purple eyes watching me, making me stop in my tracks.

But the stag slowly moved closer, his eyes never leaving mine.

“Ophelia!”

My mother’s voice had pierced through the trees — there she was standing a couple of meters behind me. Frozen, staring at the same creature.

She wasn’t intrigued.

No, she was sacred.

“Come to me, sweetie. It’s time to head home.”

I knew better than to disagree with her. Slowly, I walked back to her.

But the stag stood still. Unmoving. Waiting.

That was the last time mother took me to visit her sister.

“I know you, don’t I?”

The words left me in a whisper, my eyes locked on his. I always thought I had imagined those strange eyes. The deep lavender hues feeling too dreamlike to be real.

But there he was, right before me.

Staring at me as if I was as strange as he was. Like he remembered me too.

Then, slowly — the stag bows his head, his eyes not leaving mine.

I was frozen, but a part of me felt as if the creature had allowed me to move again.

We stare at each other for a moment longer, unmoving, until he nods in the direction he came from.

Before slowly disappearing deeper into the woods.

Masterlist