#feeling a deep otherworldly emptiness right now

[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

[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.

[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.

[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.

[youssefguedira]

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]

[mommybard]

So, I might’ve found a group out there as depraved as those tentacle fuckers. Get this, some people get off on the idea of hypnosis and mind control, whether it’s willingly giving up control to someone or something else or getting corrupted into it. I know, strange, right? Can you just imagine it. Think about it for a moment. Clear your thoughts for me. Empty your mind. Now just picture someone out there getting off on hypnosis. Not just simple versions of it either, like those stage shows where the person makes the volunteers humiliate themselves for others enjoyment. But deep, hypnotic states. Having your mind go blank from just a few words, a simple phrase, or even just visual cues. Either rendering you little more than a human doll or bringing out a whole new personality. And the variety of ways they want it done, it’s fascinating, really. Some of them want to be strapped into a VR machine and get blasted over and over with audio and visual cues. Slowly having the connections in their mind either re-done or erased entirely as they’re exposed to it. Making their iq drop, filling their now-empty minds with lewd thoughts and ideas. Erasing all the worry about the world and stress that was there and replacing it with better things to focus on. Like how empty their mouth feels, wouldn’t it be better to have a nice cock against their tongue or get to feel their lips wrapped around a nipple? Why worry about work when they can worry about how achingly vacant their holes are? What’s the point in stressing about things when they can focus on how cute they can look to try to get more strap/cock~? Can you believe how fucking depraved that is? Others don’t want it to happen so obviously though. You can’t really forget being strapped down and forced to watch and listen to things, and might try to fight against it. They want a more subtle approach, or a slow burn. Getting tricked into it even appeals to these deviants. Opening an email that just happens to have a short video or message that plants an idea but makes them think it’s something innocuous. Being shown a quick thing by someone they trust, or sometimes even a stranger for some of them, and having it start them on their journey. Over time getting slowly exposed more and more to these little things that add up, making them slowly go from who they are, to a bit more open, dressing a bit more revealing. Their mind getting corrupted bit by bit from their normal thought process, to having trouble thinking about anything other than something lewd, to fully embracing the perverted and depraved~ And yet there are still more out there who don’t want it to happen like those. Tech? Psh. That’s too tame for them. Tech can be reversed after all. No, they want something more permanent. Something more…magical in nature. Whether it’s a curse put on them, a part of a demonic bargain, or simply drinking the wrong potion. Having their own control over their bodies supplanted by other powers. Some might introduce little whispers in their mind, slowly guiding them down a path of sluthood, pushing them further along that route until they’re practically begging people in the street to please use their body as a fucktoy, to give them another taste of the pleasures they’ve become addicted to, to violate and defile them. It can also be a rapid shift for some, having their consciousness locked away in their mind, unable to control their body but forced to watch as the demon they made a deal with changes them, warps them, ruins them. Trying to escape the restraints they’re in and take control back even as they’re constantly assaulted by the new sensations and experiences the otherworldly power subjects their body to~ I tell you sweetie, there are some really depraved people out there, willing to do such strange things to themselves for the sake of pleasure~

[deerspherestudios]

Author’s Note: This is probably bad, because I have been in a creative slump, and have severe writer’s block, but I wanted to write something about Mychael, so here it is.

~

After such a long day of searching for your cat, you would expect to drift off into a deep, dreamless sleep; however, contrary to such assumptions, disturbing visions of the feline plagued your mind: images of the unfortunate kitty lost and hungry became a horrific nightmare of the creature getting hurt or killed by other animals.

Your eyes flew open, forcing you back into reality. Blinking a few times, you become more clearheaded, with a growing awareness of the wetness of your cheeks, and the sweat on your forehead.

“Are you okay, Firefly?”

Turning your head, you saw Mychael sitting next to your bed, concern marring his otherworldly features.

You didn’t want to lie to him - after all, he had been so kind to you; however, you were also averse to worrying him further.

“I’m alright. I just had a bad dream.”

He frowned, not appearing completely happy with that response. After observing him for a day, you realized that Mychael was the type of person to look after others, and that he couldn’t stand to see someone unhappy.

Wanting to reassure the boy, you gave him a warm smile.

“I’m honestly fine. It’s just that I really miss my cat.”

You were positive that you saw some unidentifiable emotion flicker across his face, but it was gone the second you registered it.

“Oh. Well, I’m certain that wherever your cat is, they are healthy, and unharmed.”

You really wanted to believe that, especially since your memory of searching for the feline was fuzzy.

“Yeah, you might be right. I guess I’m also a little lonely. The thought of going back to an empty house makes me sad. So, I really want to find my cat, because he always kept me company.”

All four of Mychael’s eyes shifted to stare at his lap, where he began to fiddle with his fingers.

“You don’t have to go back right now. You could stay here for a few days, and I could keep you company. Then, you wouldn’t be lonely anymore.”

You couldn’t help teasing him a bit.

“You want to replace my cat?”

He put his hands up defensively, eyes going wide.

“N-no! I just want to help you. If you’re having nightmares, you shouldn’t be alone right now. I want to make sure you eat properly, and get enough sleep.”

You were honestly surprised by how far this person was willing to go for a complete stranger. He had already done so much for you, but now he was willing to allow you to stay for a longer period of time? You would have to figure out a way to thank him for his generosity.

For now, you simply reached out to hold his hand. His breath hitched, but he didn’t pull away.

“Thank you. You’re so nice. I’m really glad that you are the one who found me. I think I can go back to sleep thanks to you.”

You released Mychael’s hand, and laid down on the bed, closing your eyes. He really did help erase your worries, and you could feel the tension drain from your body. You thought you heard Mychael murmur something. Unfortunately, you were too tired to fully register his words, and simply dismissed them as you drifted off to sleep.

Mychael watched you relax, and smiled fondly. He hoped that you would never leave, and would do anything to make you want to live with him forever.

“I hope that you come to think of this place as your home; after all - home is where the heart is. And my heart belongs to you.”

[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

[teenietinytangerine]

THE TRUTH UNTOLD part 1. chapter 1. "lust at first sight."

content disclaimer: hints at smut but none, yet... pairing: gumiho!yoongi x oc (saein) ------

"What did you say?"

"I said I'll feed you."

"Do you even know what that means?"

"I did my research, I know."

He crossed his arms over his chest, not unamused. In front of him, there she stood, the Venus de Milo, on the wane of the theaters of horrors, too at-ease in its throes to shiver at the sight anymore.

"Why would you do that?"

"You're a picky eater, aren't you?"

"I'm being careful with spicy food. Especially ones that leave me with souvenirs." The Gumiho pulled his shirt with one of his claws to expose the scar she had left above his collarbone a couple of days ago.

She grimaced. "Right, sorry. That's part of the reason, I mean you're stuck here because of me, and you asked me if you should just starve now so... "

"So? You're going to..."

"Not let you starve."

This time, Yoongi burst out in incredulous laughter. The slayer was messing with him, showing up with all five feet of snark at his door and empty promises in a leather trenchcoat.

She never lacked confidence, Saein, but that was a bold move. Thankfully, every doubt she had was obscured by the sheer strength of her stubbornness to the point that, when the Gumiho, disguised as a man, approached at an excruciatingly slow pace, all he could read on her face was her provocation to take her at her word.

He bent over, squinting. "Really?"

He looked otherworldly, with a hint of depravity, but she knew that already.

She looked delicious, with a hint of sardonic, but he knew that already.

"Really." She only needed to whisper for him at this distance. And now, she was the one smiling for there was no hiding from him of the hunger that had risen at the mere thought. She could swear his pupils had grown bigger.

She pulled on the pearl necklace to bring him closer and repeated, softer. "Really."

But, as her eyes fell on his lips, he pulled back.

"If you're not interested-"

"That's not- You are serious."

"I am... curious."

"You trust me?"

" ... For this, yes. It's your expertise, isn't it?"

"It is."

He smacked his lips, seemingly deep into the unraveling of his dilemmas while she was fighting off her pride, only pulled back by the more nustled in feeling she had denied and still does even though it murmurs with honey its spelling to her ear: lust.

She had a way about her, the Slayer, a tranquil confidence enveloped in fiery defiance and here she was standing, offering herself up an unbearable human fragility that was, oh, so tantalizing, the sweetest trap that just might be worth the sugar it held.

He couldn't help himself but fall in it.

His fingers tucked back a strand of her hair behind her ear, and the first skinship came with the promise of her anticipation. She wasn't lying. She wanted this. His thumb fluttered along her jaw all the way to her lips.

Saein, like hypnotized, held her breath, and instinctively came closer, her nose nearly touching his, she leaned and-

"Not like this." His fingers locked around her wrist, and a grin stretched on his lips. "I've got a ritual of sorts."

[vashuknivesu]

Alter(cation): Father! Nicholas D. Wolfwood/AFAB reader

Warnings: Church sex, pussy eating, religious themes. The good shit.

-*-

It’s a sin. You’re aware, vaguely, somewhere in the recesses of your brain that haven’t been clouded and warped by your lust for him that this is absolutely a sin. And if God is real then you’re definitely being sent into the deepest, firiest pits of Hell for what you’re doing; but you can’t bring yourself to care.

Not when your upside down view of the stained-glass window, obscured by a grand and tall crucifix, casting bright streaks of gold and red and blue and green is as stunning as it is. And not when the Father with his face between your legs is as good with his tongue as he is.

And really, how did a man of God get so good at eating pussy if he wasn’t already wrapped in a little sin? There’s not a chance he’s this good at it without having done it before.

Your legs are hiked up over either shoulder, and he has your thighs pulled taught either side of his chest, holding onto them with a death grip. Chancing a look down reveals to you that he’s staring, dark brown eyes locked firm on your face as his tongue runs laps around your clit. You whine when you catch his eye, he growls, your hips jerk and he closes his eyes, burying his mouth further into you.

If pleasure like this was such a sin, then why did God create it to feel so fucking good?

His hands are moving. One thick, broad palm pressing at your tummy, the other coming to join the onslaught between your thighs, two of his fingers sliding into you to the knuckle. He crooks the digits, hits a spot that makes you arch and cry out for him, snag his tawny black hair in both hands. And he likes that, if the depraved and deep moan he replies with is anything to go by.

You don’t get to give him much of a warning when you cum. It just kind of hits you like a battering ram, sending all your senses sideways with a squeal. He works you through it. Fingers curling into that little spot inside you, tongue lapping at you leisurely. When he comes away, his mouth is swollen, wet, chin covered in drool and cum. Holy Shit. He’s gorgeous.

He looks… Otherworldly, framed in an array of colours, outlined by pews and high, ornate ceilings. His fingers make quick work of his belt, his zipper, and when his cock comes free, fisted into his dark and tanned hand, you’re certain you see a little bit of God. Somewhere. Maybe.

He’s staring at you. Appraising you with low eyelids as he strokes himself leisurely, and a quick swipe of his thumb at his tip has his head tilting back, a loud groan echoing through the empty Church. When his head comes forward again, his eyes fix on the Crucifix behind you. Only briefly. Before all his attention is back on you, pulling you in at your hips, angling his cock towards your entrance with a thumb. He sinks into you easily with a push, sounds wrenching their way out of both you, and he stays comfortably seated for a moment, heaving in laboured breaths.

Bowing forward, Nicholas D. Wolfwood catches your lips in a sloppy kiss. Teeth and tongue collide, and, you think to yourself, if he were to devour you whole, right here and now on this alter, you’d die happy.

He doesn’t go far when he pulls away. Eyes barely open as he looks at you, lips almost touching. A little whisper when straightens himself upright and starts moving, punching a high keen from your lungs.

“Lord forgive me.”

[artillunis]

«On the old gods and new»

Few weeks passed since Princess Alyssia, along with her brother Prince Jacaerys, flew away to rally support for their mother. Young Prince brought support of the Vale while the Princess was said to have charmed the harsh heart of the Wolf of Winterfell. After all Alyssia possessed otherworldly to northerners Valyrian features and a bold spirit.

During the visit to the Wall, a raven brought somber news to the young Prince and Princess. Lucerys Velaryon was murdered by Aemond one-eyed in the sky above the Storm’s End.

“What?...” — a half whisper escaped Alyssia’s lips, as the news settled in her mind.

“His is gone, Aly.. Aemond.. he..” — Jace stumbled on his words. There were no “right words” for these. No way to sweeten nor soften the news.

Alyssia’s hands dug deep into the frozen ledge, eyes staring far upon the frozen wasteland. She had once pitied Aemond. She had lost count how many time she scolded Jace and Luke after mocking him, not mentioning all the altercations with Aegon. Perhaps he was always monster or it mattered little now.

Jace slowly approached her, placing his hand on hers. She did not protest.

“Fucking Coward” — she said, voice cold as century-old ice — “Next time it will not be an eye he loses, but his heart. I’ll cut it myself. For that I swear Jace”

Hot tears melted away freshly fallen snow. Bitter wind cut deep inside with its blows. The grief will have to wait. The cold emptiness will replace sorrow but not before the burning rage. The pain of loss was dangerous, one wrong step and it would’ve devoured her at once. Like snake’s poison, it would’ve infected her mind. Anger, on the other hand, brought strength and determination. She will grieve, once she feels drops of blood from her uncle’s heart on the tip of her dagger, once she feels th heat the dragon’s flame had swallowed The Storm’s End. Then she will fall apart, let the sorrow take over. But right now her family needs her.

They stood there in silence and not a living soul dared to interrupt the silent vigil.

[kydrogendragon]

Please, can I ask about The Raven King?

Raven King! Yeah, so this was what I originally planned to do for NaNo this last November and just started writing it by the seat of my pants without much of a plan. Ended up not finishing it but I did get a good 20k words into it. It's just a scattering of scenes right now, mostly.

The overall premise is a Hades/Persephone mixed with Beauty and the Beast type fic. Hob ends up going into town on the Winter Solstice and happens to go on the same year when The Raven King comes for "payment". Every fifty years, he comes and takes a soul away from the town as per their arrangement for existing in what are technically his lands.

The warning being that if you light any light on the longest night, the Raven King will come claim you instead. So no one as any fires or lanterns or anything going. Hob, not quite believing such a myth and who is also freezing his arse off, lights up the fireplace in his room. Which, unbeknownst to him, is him basically screaming out to the Raven King, "Hey! Please come take me and marry me!!"

There's gonna be some sort of climactic action, but what it is yet, i've no idea, so most of the scenes have just been them leaving to slowly love each other. A very enemies to friends to lovers bit.

A snippet for ya!:

A female voice shrieked. Hob jolted awake. His vision was empty. Nothing but a void seemed to cover his eyes, no matter where he looked. The voice was muffled, like it was underwater, or he was underwater. What was happening? “Robert Gadling,” a deep, soothing voice called out from somewhere in the void Hob seemed to be stuck inside. “You have lit a fire here in the night, calling me to you. We will depart shortly.” Depart? This was a dream, surely. Besides, who else would have such a perfect voice if not but in a dream? “You’re taking him?” a voice, the innkeep, Hob was pretty certain, asked somewhere to his left. “I am.” Hob’s limbs felt weird, now that he thought about it. They were weak, like how they are after a long hunting trip in the cold, or [ANOTHER REASON HERE]. He tried to raise his arm. He thinks he succeeded? It was hard to tell. He couldn’t feel any wind or warmth. It was truly like he was in a void. Was he? Finally, a sense of panic grew in his gut. He doesn’t know why it took this long to feel this way. He should have felt panicked the moment he opened his eyes and appeared to have gone blind, but better late than never. Frantically, Hob raised his hands to his face and thank the gods, he can actually feel his fingers against his cheeks. He climbs higher, reaching towards his eyes only to find nothing in front of them. Cautiously, he pressed a fingertip to his eye. His eyes are, indeed, open. There’s no lids in front and he can feel the coarse pads of the calloused tips rub against the soft jelly of his eyes. A hand grabs his wrists. The skin is cold, like they had just pressed their hand in a bank of snow and left it there. Hob jerks back at the sudden sensation, but finds himself stuck in the unnaturally strong grasp. “Peace, Robert Gadling.” Ah, so the voice belongs to Mr. Frozen hands. Not that that calms Hob down any. He pulls, testing the grip, and finds that the hand do not move. Not unlike stone. “I beg of you, my lord, he is not from here. He did not know what the fire meant.” My lord? Hob’s stomach sank. The innkeep’s story flashed through his mind. The Raven King, the otherworldly lord of this land. The one that takes with him someone from the village every fifty years as a… sacrifice. “And would you rather I chose another, Alice Thornan?” The innkeep was silent. Unsurprising, but hurtful nonetheless. Hob scoffed. Sacrificed. That was to be his fate. Hob couldn’t find it in himself to be very disappointed, all things considered. If this spared the life of another in the village, then so be it. At least he’d go out saving a life. Surely that would count for something towards his place in the afterlife. Perhaps the gods would even be kind and allow him to reunite with his dear Eleanor and sweet Robyn. Hob could hear some sort of shifting of fine grain or sand of sorts in the background. Then, the gentle rustling of feathers, like a bird preparing for flight. And then that deep voice called to him once more. “Prepare yourself, Robert Gadling. We are leaving now.” The hands that held his wrist left, the almost numbing cold vanishing with it. Moments later, two rather thin arms rucked themselves around his body, one underneath his legs, the other around his back, and lifted. Hob felt almost like a bride, being carted through the entry of her new home. He wonders briefly if Eleanor felt like this all those years back. Although he doubts he felt as cold as the stranger did. Tucked against the sturdy, but still freezing chest, of the Raven King had Hob shivering in his thin bedclothes. If wherever he was being carted off to for sacrificial rituals or whatnot was a long journey, he might die from the chill before making it there.

[lonestarss]

happy birthday.

below the cut is a little drabble i decided to do for an oc's birthday, which is tomorrow, november 12th.

special thanks to @kasmusser for reading this before i released it! please reblog to support your fellow artists.

There’s many an urban legend passed around the not-so-small town of Portmouth. Of weeping angels, of unsettling demons, of all matters of supernatural beings. Such things are usually waved away as delusion, hallucination, or simple tricks of the eye. But, there is one urban legend that is nearly universally agreed upon.

Every time Portmouth receives a thunderstorm, there’s always an uncanny, almost otherworldly figure roaming the streets. No one has dared to get close enough to touch it or see it in detail, but it always brings loud lightning and a lingering sense of despair.

When the storms clear, citizens get a closer look. Most describe him as a man, clearly an adult but of unknown age. His fingertips drip with foreign blood, eyes sunken deep as he perpetually stares at the pavement. A golden ring of light hangs over his head like an omen, matching the color of his eyes and the dark brown of his messed hair. He stumbles on tired feet at all hours of the night, carrying the sort of body you’d find rotting in a ditch. Always on the same path.

Many wonder if he’s real or not. He’s too methodical, too strange, as if they’re looking at the exact same sight every night. Small things change, but it’s uncommon. Sometimes he has a cane or a polearm, sometimes he sleeps most of the night away. 

It’s curious. He acts so obviously human. Yet he is so ostentatiously not at the same time.

Sometimes he isn’t seen at all.

This is one such night.

The back alleys and unwalked streets of Portmouth feel barren without their sorrowful angel patrolling them. It’s the dead of night, and he’s nowhere to be found. What happened?

Praying with trembling, raw muscles, Miguel Briones begs to forget his own birthday. He resists the urge to scratch at himself, to grit his teeth and make his pain worse. How ironic it is– so desperate for pain, for anything, and yet yearning for emptiness at the same time. Such contradiction reminds him of his echoing heartbeat, his aliveness. How human it is, to beg.

He can’t win. His throat tightens, but he does not weep. He thinks that he lost the ability some thirty years ago.

Another November twelfth passes alone. Alone, alone, alone with nothing but the heartbeat he can’t bring himself to stop. Every year, he prays to forget. To wipe himself of all that is worldly, down to his very blood and flesh. He died once, why can’t he do it again?

…What is he hearing?

He isn’t human, he reminds himself when his heartbeat picks up. It’s a mindless habit at this point. When he recognizes the footsteps that make his breath hitch, that voice that drives him utterly mad, the familiar pollen-induced tickling in his nose, he reminds himself again.

And he sneezes.

Maybe he isn’t as good at this as he previously thought.

“Ah, there you are!”

Miguel wishes he could die again right then and there, but when has God ever liked him enough to grant such mercy?

Miguel is pulled up from his kneeling position, forced to meet the gaze of the all-too-joyous wanderer he had oh-so-foolishly taken in. The air shifts slightly when they both simultaneously realize how light of a carry Miguel is, but that doesn’t last long.

“You seem awfully gloomy for what day it is,” The naive simpleton says. All Miguel can think of to respond with is a slight shrug. “Come now, do you not have any plans?”

“I never do,” Miguel responds, both his expression and voice blank and emotionless. All the other man does in response is click his tongue and shake his head.

“So be it. I’m sure I can spruce something up for you.”

Miguel wants to stop him, but he already knows that it’s too late. He was going to be dragged along whether he liked it or not. At least it would be more enjoyable than staying on the ground.

“What do you have in mind?” Miguel asks, more as an interrogation than an inquiry. “Well, you certainly aren’t the revealing type, so I had to do plenty of thinking to find something you’d like.”

He walks over to the other side of the room, pulls a box from the table. He can feel Miguel’s eyes scanning him the entire time. He holds out the box for Miguel, still putting on a mild grin despite the tension growing in the air. “I hope this is good enough. I really did try, believe me.”

Once Miguel takes a closer look, his heart flutters with both terror and excitement. It’s a box of chocolates, presumably stolen from one of the local stores. He feels a pang of joy in his chest. Why wouldn’t he? He loves chocolate.

…But the fact that they both know that is enough to bring Miguel right back down from where he was. Perhaps he wasn’t too proficient in being incomprehensible just yet. What a shame.

He’s conflicted. On one hand, this is a very charming and thoughtful gift, something he hasn’t gotten in probably a decade or three. But on the other hand…

His doubts are waved away by the younger man, as if he could read his thoughts. “Don’t think about it too much. I just wanted to give you something nice on your birthday.”

Miguel looks down at the box, a complicated, uncomfortable swirl of feelings filling him. He doesn’t smile, but the shocked parting of his lips and widened eyes are the most visible joy anyone’s going to get out of him currently. All things considered, this is probably the best birthday he’s had in years, even if he has to deal with… him.

Maybe this won’t be so terrible, he wonders.

“Happy birthday, Miguel.”

And for once, it does feel happy. At least a little. He’ll enjoy it while his lack of guilt lasts.

[insilentruin]

The King of Loneliness ?

| 🗡 | It used to be, that the long silences inside the Ark were filled with calculations, plotting his next move, contemplating the demise of the human race, keeping track of his machinations that his chosen few carried out.

Lately.... The silences were nearly maddening with cyclic thoughts and questions. Fears reawakened that he could not force to perish again. What was this need he felt? What was it for? His inability to answer those questions made it worse. It was a desperate longing for someone to guide him, take this burden from him, give him the answers he needed to fix whatever was wrong with him.

But. Of course. The pain of that need did not produce someone who could give him those answers, show him how to fix it. No. It just left him feeling empty, and alone.

I did this.

And knowing it, wanting to own that fact and decide to change it, did not ease the issues the desire propagated. It also didn't rid him of the realizations of what would have happened if he was been like Nai, and gotten to carry out more things until he'd either killed Vash and humanity, or been defeated. Either way, he lost. Either way--he lost. Either way. He. Lost.

It echoed inside him endlessly. Until he thought he would scream from it. It was then that he felt her calling to him. The song growing in distress for him, piercing the miasmic thoughts inside his mind until he couldn't ignore her. Alerts were sounding on the consoles that monitored her containment, and he sucked in all of the sensations with a physical deep intake and got up to see to her.

He stopped the alerts, to avoid anyone else coming to check on her, and dropped down to the walkway that would put him level-most with her emerging from the inner sphere. He wondered for a breathless moment, watching her move with her feathered appendages and and long limps and the beauty that all of his sisters possessed in that otherworldly way, that she may be one of the oldest Dependent Plants still alive. And yet, timeless all the same. It was at that moment that he felt what a burden his own freewill truly was. The ability to choose, and having chose wrongly. If only he were taken care of, as she was. Or used, and discarded. What a fickle and strange place for his mind to have gone. Was it--easier, to not have to choose?

Her song within his mind called him back to her and he pressed his whole front to the barrier between them. One cheek flattened against the barrier and he felt the warmth of her closeness through it and close his eyes to listen and feel her mind. The somewhat comfort she could offer. Their communication was a sophisticated tangle of images, emotions, and intensions, with no room for falsehoods. His delusional beliefs of before had endured, but not now. Not since the disillusionment of his entire supposed purpose.

It had been a line of thought lurking in the back of his mind for a while, and she eased it to the surface, did not let him turn away from it now. For all the knowledge he ever held of the humans and all of their flaws, he had thought himself above them. Even as he succumbed to the same mistakes himself. Possibly the first Independent Plant to become no better than the worst of humanity in all its history.

Except you have not. Not yet. And not anymore. No so much words, as a complicated radiance of emotions and images. She was right, but he didn't believe it himself. She saw everything he experienced of the other Nai, the things the other had done, and planned to do, the things that he may have resorted to--

But NOT now. Change now.

A disgusted snort escaped him, and covered the near-sob that wanted to tear from his chest. He was so tense he was shaking, holding onto the heated barrier between himself and his sibling as his only lifeline, the only thing keeping him upright.

But how!?

The question echoed in his mind. She did not have a solution for him. None of them did, none that could hear their connection. How indeed. He still hated the humans as a whole. Filthy things, more often twisted and cruel than not, from his own experiences. His own fears. His inability to see the good in any of them... except... NO. He recoiled from that line of thought immediately, he was definitely not ready for where his mind would go there.

His sister eased herself back into the open-most parts of his mind, and filling it with warmth and all the reassurance the Plants near him could muster. They supported him, and they knew who could help him. Their Red Brother. The one who could see the best in humans, even at the worst of times.

Not yet. I can't. Not yet.

She released his mind gently and Knives sank physically to the corrugated walkway, still able to touch the bulb, as close to comfort as he could willingly reach for from anyone. And, of course, inevitably, the thought that he no longer deserved such comfort. Not when he thought there was no going back from who he was meant to be.