#just put your vulnerable books in a place without direct sunlight

[seem0reglass]

I have a sneaking suspicion that in those ~dark ~academia ~aesthetic posts, the books in the photos are turned around with their pages edges facing out bc the books they actually have are contemporary tv on paper books that don't match their ~color ~scheme

[padme-parker]

Mizpah // the darkling x reader // ch 4

summary: The Darkling and Alina talk. You get a tour of the Little Palace.

warnings: cussing, getting drunk, maybe some violence maybe not. not proof read either </3

AFTER showing you to your room, the Darkling hurried back to Alina. Inside, the sun summoner had been pacing relentlessly. What did he mean we weren’t together? The girl understood that the two had shared nothing more than a kiss. He didn’t owe her anything, so why did she feel like this? Hearing the door swing open made her stop in place.

“Forgive me, Alina.” He started. “But I made a mistake. I shouldn’t have kissed you that night.” Aleksander didn’t know what he was saying. He knew that he had to have the sun summoner by his side, and he didn’t know how to execute his plan if he didn’t have her. Truthfully, there had been some part of him that enjoyed indulging in her. He had convinced himself and Alina that it was them against the world, which he had believed. Until you showed up.

On the contrary, Alina was seething. She didn’t know whether to be angry with herself or the Darkling. “But you said-” She let the words die on the tip of her tongue, she couldn’t recall what he had said exactly. All she knew was that he made a promise that they would save the world, together. Had she interpreted his words and actions wrong, the girl didn’t know. She left Mal, she just let Mal walk out of her life for a man she had known for less than a year. A man who had promised her everything yet nothing. “Saints, I…”

“I really am sorry.” Alina knew something was off, the Darkling never apologized for his actions, deliberate or not. He had no problem taking up lovers in the past, so what had made him change his mind? He seemed so ready to give himself to her.

The sun summoner gave him a weak smile, “No, I understand.” She could feel the tender strings of her heart snapping. How could I let myself fall for someone like him so easily? She began to berate herself. She quickly excused herself, not wanting the Darkling to see the tears threatening to spill out of her eyes. As soon as she shut the door, she paused. Willing herself to calm in order to go to her room. On the other side of the door, the Darkling approached it yearnfully. He had risked everything for a whim.

With a sigh, the Darkling left the war room and headed to his sleeping quarters. He took a short bath before putting on his sleep attire. He found himself falling asleep to the thought that you would soon be in his arms.

-

THE DARKLING had been roused from his sleep, your screams echoing in the barren hall. Hurriedly, he threw open the doors of his room and gathered his oprichniki before entering your room. He ordered his guards to survey your room as he made his way to your trembling figure. He desperately wanted to reach out to you. To take you into his embrace and kiss your forehead until you stopped crying. But he couldn’t, not yet. It was still too soon. After no threat was found, he directed his guards to leave the two of you alone. He finds himself crouching down to you, his hand hovering over yours, asking for permission. He didn’t want to take advantage of you in such a vulnerable state like this.

With the nod of your head, he takes your hands into his, unconsciously rubbing his thumb along the soft skin of your palm. He does his best to subdue the emotion in his face as he sees the raw skin of your neck. His mouth seemed to dry, his throat feeling like the sands of West Ravka. With caution, he traces along the lines of your birthmark, noticing the shudder you had so deeply tried to suppress.

“I can call for Genya, if you’d like that.” You knew what he was insinuating. As humiliated as you were by it growing up, you wouldn’t get rid of it or try to hide it. Not anymore, not ever again.

“No.” You said sternly. The sunlight had completely changed the way your room looked. In turn you observed how the rays of light painted your room in a warm, welcoming tone. You had managed to finally calm yourself, his presence oddly enough brought you comfort. You should’ve been scared of General Kirigan, The Darkling, Starless Saint, or whatever it was he went by. He was a ruthless man who was willing to do anything he could to end the war. But was that not a good thing? You asked yourself. He would risk everything to end the war. Ravka needs someone like him. He certainly did far more for your country than the King ever did.

A realization came over you as you stared at him, a smile coming to your lips. “I think it’s time for that tour you promised me.” The Darkling lent his hand out to you, and you gladly took it. You dusted yourself off, pretending like nothing had happened. “Give me a second to get dressed.” Without waiting for his reply, you took the same undershirt and trousers from yesterday, and changed in the bathroom. Before leaving the room, you made sure to throw your raggedy soldier’s jacket over your shoulders.

The Darkling started with the obvious, his sleeping quarters and the war room. He had told you how the sleeping quarters connected to his war room wasn’t actually his bedroom. He found it too much of a hassle to move from the war room to all the way down the hall in order to sleep every night. The next room he showed you was his own, but he never granted you entrance.

“I don’t go in there often, it reminds me of..” His eyes briefly met yours, he cleared his throat and looked away. “..someone.” There was a flash of something, some emotion, that you couldn’t pinpoint. But if one thing was clear, whoever this person was really hurt him. You tried not to press on further as the curiosity got the best of you.

“I didn’t peg you as someone who would settle for a relationship.” You said as he started to lead you away from his room.

“I’m not.” He said solemnly. You could tell he wanted to say more. That there was something that wanted to escape his lips, but he didn’t allow those words to leave them. He took his time explaining the halls and rooms of the Little Palace.

“This is where the Corporalki practice, I don’t recommend going inside.” He stated. Their practice room had no windows, unlike the many other rooms within the Little Palace. You could only imagine the horrid smell in there. Perhaps they convinced a squaller to air it out once in a while.

The next room he took you to was where they all gathered to eat. He told you how Grisha were separated into their own tables. The Darkling had sat in the middle, while the Corporalki and Etherealki were seated to the right and left of him. However, it wasn’t often he made an appearance here. He usually ate in his war room.

After showing you the inside, he then took you outdoors towards the garden. He had managed to avoid large crowds inside, but due to nearly everyone training outdoors, there had been some people who stopped and stared as you walked past. The lake had begun to freeze, some Grisha ice skating on the shallow side where the ice froze first. The others had been practicing their magic. It had mainly been the Etherealki who practiced outdoors. Eventually everyone had to come outdoors though to train with Botkin.

“Perhaps I could train with him too?” You asked. Afterall, you were in the First Army. It would be a waste to sit in the palace and do nothing while you could be training and brushing up on your skills.

“If that’s what you want, sure. All Grisha are permitted from using their powers while training with Botkin. I can assure that you’ll be given a fair fight.”

“Oh, I won’t be the one needing a fair fight.” You mused, peering at your knuckles, remembering all the fights you had gotten into at Keramzin after Alina and Mal came. You’d come a long way from that damned orphanage.

“Well, I guess that concludes our tour of the Little Palace for now.” The two of you walked aimlessly, trying to make conversation. Out of the corner of your eye you spotted a small hut, encapsulated by the trees.

“What’s over there?” You asked. The Darkling looked in the direction you had pointed to before swiftly leading you away.

“That's where Grisha go to train one on one with a teacher.” He explained. “I have a meeting to get to, but I can walk you to Alina’s room if you’d like.” The Darkling had hoped you accepted his offer, and tried to hide his disappointment when you had told him you’d like to walk there on your own. As you left, the Darkling kept his gaze on you the whole time. And if only you had turned once, you would see the longing he had so desperately tried to keep back.

The walk back to Alina’s room had been uneventful since Grisha were off training, including Alina. As you return to her room, you traversed about. You were sure she wouldn’t mind you looking around. You and Alina had grown accustomed to sharing most things while growing up. Everything from food, toys, even to Mal. As you neared her desk, you noticed a red book that she failed to hide. The cover had a beautiful gold design and lettering on it, Istorii Sankt’ya, it displayed.

“The Lives of Saints.” You whispered as you flipped through the pages. You were confused as to why Alina had this, she was never one to believe in the Saints growing up. Surely there was no way she had converted to a believer in a matter of months. Then again, faith was a strong thing that could cause Kingdoms to rise and fall. You’d heard of the whispers, some calling her Sankta Alina. As you continued to flip through the pages, you abruptly stopped, one of the images catching your eyes.

Depicted was an image of Sankt Ilya in chains. Behind the Saint was a white serpent that splashed in the waters. At his feet was the stag you’d been tasked with tracking down. And in the background behind the Saint’s left shoulder was a bird. Your fingers traced over the antlers of the Stag, trying to recall why you’d been tasked with tracking it in the first place. You’d heard about all the myths. The Stag, the Sea Whip, and the Firebird. If the Stag had been more than a myth, more than a children’s story, then did that mean the Sea Whip and the Firebird were real too? If so, what could the Darkling possibly want with them.

The sound of approaching footsteps startled you, making you drop the book in your hands onto the desk. You quickly seated yourself on the chair in front of the mirror, trying to seem inconspicuous. Alina came in through the doors alone.

“Well, well, well, if it isn’t my sun summoner. How are you my friend?” You played off, which Alina squinted her eyes at.

“What do you want, y/n?” The question made you roll your eyes, letting out a huff as you got up from the chair.

“What, I can’t visit my friend while I’m staying as a guest here?” You noticed the furrow of her brows, reminding you of the conversation that you, the Darkling, and Alina had last night. “What happened to Mal? Why’d he leave?” You whispered, knowing she was still hurt from the events that took place.

“I.. He..” She began, the whimpering in her voice evident. “We got into an argument, he told me I had changed since I left. That the kefta and jewels made me different. He told me that he saw how the Darkling looked at me. One thing led to another, and then he just left.” She explained, a single tear falling from her eye.

“Did you?” You asked, “Did you like the way he looked at you?” You clarified. Your eyes never leaving hers as she stared at you.

“I thought I did. There was something that was luring me to him. I thought I wanted to be with the Darkling, and then something changed within him. Maybe I took his words the wrong way. But either way you're the only person I have left now. Mal is… gone. The Darkling probably only wants me here to get rid of the fold.” She sighed. You tugged her into her grasp, feeling her body let out small sobs.

“Mal will come back to us, he always does.” You assured while stroking her hair. “Now can we get something to eat, I’m starving.” She let out a laugh as she wiped away her tears. She walked towards a bell that had been sitting upon a tray. She rang it once, signaling a servant. Right after, a young servant had knocked on the door. Alina had promptly opened it and asked for a meal for two to be brought to her room. The servant obliged, bowing before leaving once more.

Soon after the servant had returned with a cart full of food. She served you several small plates of Zakuski, a pitcher of Kvas, along with some pickled herring on top of crackers. You grimaced at the selection placed in front of you.

“Well they’re certainly feeding you ...something.” You giggled. You gravitated towards the Zakuski as your other hand went to pour a glass of Kvas.

“The General orders we have a balanced diet, or something like that.” She replied. “Since when do you drink?”

“Ever since I got stationed at Caryeva.” You shuddered thinking about your time there. “It was my only escape. I remember that night, it was a quiet night, but it didn’t stop the Shu from attacking and capturing Grisha.” The words seemed to just slip from your mouth, it was the first time Alina had heard about what your time was like down in Caryeva. “I tried to fight back, to help the Second Army. Hell, I even suggested that they take me with them. But they spared me because I wasn’t Grisha. Of course I didn’t come out unscathed.” You said, referring to the scars she’d seen yesterday. “And ever since then, I’ve been drinking because why the fuck not.” You raise your glass in a toast before downing it in one go. You reached for the pitcher again as Alina began to talk about her experience here.

“It wasn’t easy at first. It still isn’t. Some of them still don’t believe I’m a sun summoner, that I’m doing some kind of illusion. But surely the Darkling would’ve killed me if I wasn’t what I claimed he was.”

“Can I see it?” You interrupted, while you only got a glimpse of her at the fete, you had yet to see her powers one to one. In an instant, the room is filled with a bright light. You set down the Kvas in order to shield your eyes. A smile came onto your lips, “I can’t believe it, my best friend is the sun summoner.”

“Whenever you return to the First Army, you can’t mention that you know me. Someone will use that against us and try to get us both killed.” She warned, “While we're on that topic, how long will you be staying?”

“Well, he did say I could stay for as long as I’d like; as long as you permitted it.” You said, taking another gulp of your Kvas. You could feel it begin to take its effect, a slight warmth blooming throughout your body while your cheeks were tinted with a light blush. Time seemed to pass quickly as the two of you continued to catch each other up on what the other had missed. Soon enough the moonlight had taken over, leaving you with nothing but candles and lanterns to light up the room. And Alina of course.

“Alright, I think it’s time I head back.” You announced, getting up from your chair seemed to be a difficult task made obvious by the wobble in your knees.

“Maybe you should stay here for tonight.” She tried to convince you.

“I think I’m fine, Alina. Besides who would miss out on being able to sleep across the hall from that hunk of a man.” You snickered as Alina stuck her tongue at you. “What, I know a hot man when I see one.” You admitted.

“Yeah well, good luck trying to get into his pants.” She countered, a smirk on her face. She walked you to her door before giving you a quick hug and wishing you goodnight. As soon as she closed the door, you were alone again. Even in a hall filled with people, you had never felt more alone, more out of place. At least with the First Army you were surrounded by fellow soldiers, while here you were surrounded by Grisha who didn’t know you even existed.

The journey back to your room consisted of you constantly hugging the wall for stability. You thought you hadn’t drunk that much but the effect of the Kvas had just started hitting you more harshly. You’d probably woken up a Grisha or two with your annoying giggling while you mumbled to yourself. Before you know it, someone is walking up to you, their arm supporting your waist as they rest your arm atop their shoulders.

“Oh, hello Mr. General, sir.” You tried to salute him, but failed miserably. You could see the corners of his mouth slightly turn up as he tried to fight it.

“I assume you had a good time?” He questioned as he made his way back to your room.

“Yes, it would’ve been better if you were there.” You suggested, wagging your eyebrows. Sooner than you’d like, you arrived at your door. The Darkling gently laid you onto the bed as he went to take off your shoes, leaving them at the foot of your bed. He lit the lantern that had been placed on the side table. Before he could leave, you grabbed his hand.

“Thank you for walking me back. Goodnight..” You didn’t know what came over you, but the words left your lips before you could even think to stop, “..my darkling.”

If you had stayed awake for a few more seconds, you would’ve seen the genuine smile that came to his face. His fingers stroking your hair, tucking some behind your ear.

“Goodnight, my darling.”

-

A/N: sorry this took so long lol. I was quite busy over the weekend. I usually post every other day. But my question is if y'all like shorter, more frequent updates, or longer updates. Obviously the longer updates wouldn’t be posted every other day. Most likely once a week though. However I enjoy writing and posting every other day because it keeps me motivated. 

Mizpah tag: @all-art-is-quite-useless @devilxangel @musicconversedance @parabatai-winchester @runawayolives @tartiflvtte @rbg1933 @thatguppienamedbae @batgal96 @thebarisinhell99 @5hundreddaysofsummer @kaqua @queenseneschal @benbarnes-supremacy @princessofpersia96 @takethee @dontjinx-it @freakytillthemoon @amortentiaaaa @marvel-ousnesss @coolninjavoid @areomalfoy @pansysgirlfriend @universalirwin @leavejuliaalone @xx-winwin-wednesday-xx @honeyofthegods @lunamyangel @d-list-goddess @comphersjost@telepathdestiel @the-celestial-kitsune @thestoryofmylife9 @s-corpionem @pancakeisreading @sanna2020 @secretsandtinyshadows @savannah-elliott @maliasblue @tea-effect @disneyandharrypotter @futuristicpinklemur @tanyaherondale @the-puff-is-strong-with-this-one @hxgreeves @yourboiialucard @thereeallink @ladyblablabla @wolfieellsworld @p3nny4urth0ught5 @louweasleymalfoy @the-natureofme @itsloveroflife @oddlittleminx @within-thehollowcrown @itsfangirlmendes @heyyimlaynna @jgtfvhsg @gloriousmoneyrascalbiscuit @auggie2000 @itsnotquimey @jtownraindancer @sonnensplitter​ @sarcastic-and-cool​ @poulterfilms​ @spookybooisa​ @stickyknightflowerbailiff​ @hollandsweetie​

S.a.B. forever tag: @deceivedeer

[loki-hargreeves]

Loki x Reader - Married in Secret

Warnings: a lot of fluff, implied smut, more fluff Word Count: 3,1K  Summary: After you and Loki get engaged, Odin is trying to make a huge wedding happen for you against your wishes. So you and Loki get married in secret. Loki has another surprise for the two of you... {there are a couple choices at the end for you to choose from!}  Author’s Note: I’ve always wanted to write interactive fanfiction. Better start late than never, right? Please enjoy <3 also pls don’t hate me for the vows, I did my best ok??

YOUR POV

Questions about the tiniest, most ridiculous things were bombarded at you from each direction as you walked in the palace,

“Do you want dark green or light green curtains in the ballroom?”

“We’ve already invited 500 people to the dinner party, can we stretch that to 600?”

“Should we pair the roses with orchids or gardenias?”

Ever since you and Loki had announced your engagement, Asgard had gone wild. The servants were tasked with making the most fantastic royal wedding, and it was getting exhausting. Loki hadn’t asked for this and neither had you. Odin was orchestrating it all, and it was definitely not from a good will.

The old man cared so much about appearance and he wanted to show the people what it meant to be royal. After all, Loki was a prince and you were about to become a princess. Odin wanted to put up a facade, and dare you say it seemed like he wanted to show that royalty was much better than the common people. To throw luxurious parties and waste so much gold on an unfathomable amount of flowers and other unnecessaries. To put up a show and conceal the love you and Loki had for each other. You were supposed to act cold and proud that day, but it wasn’t what you desired.

Truly, all you wanted was to be with Loki and celebrate the love you had for one another. Nothing more than that.

After days of circus Odin had created, you were done. You felt like slamming the door to your soon to be shared bedroom, but didn’t do it as you realized the door itself hadn’t done anything to you. Loki was sitting on an emerald green armchair, book in hand and he looked up to you with almost a worried gaze. It softened when he realized that it was you, not another poor servant who was terrified of getting any details wrong. 

“Bad morning?” Loki judged the look on your face. Your shoulders were tense and it looked like you had been spun around like a music box doll everywhere you had been. 

“You could say so,” You sighed deeply and made your way closer to Loki. Although the day had begun poorly, you felt immediately much better when you were with the Trickster you had fallen for. 

Loki put the book down on the coffee table next to an empty cup of tea and he stood up, meeting you in a loving embrace. You relaxed in his arms and for a moment, you closed your eyes and let yourself get lost in the moment. 

“I chose a dress,” You let him know. At least, that was done now. One less thing to worry about.

“I’m sure it’s beautiful,” Loki sounded excited. He couldn’t wait to see you in your bridal outfit. The thought alone made his heart race in his chest. Oh how lucky he felt to have you.

You parted from his embrace and sat down on the second armchair so you could stretch your legs. It had been a long morning. 

“I don’t wish to complain,” you started carefully, “but I don’t know how much more of this I can handle. This wedding is getting out of hand.”

Loki agreed with you, but hearing it made him worry. He was afraid you would get cold feet. If so, he would certainly blame Odin for it. But now, he wiped that thought away, for he had an idea. 

“My love,” Loki took your hand in his and he lowered himself on one knee right in front of you, just like he had a few weeks ago. He was so devoted to you, he made you feel special. 

“Yes?”

“What if I told you I have a plan?” A familiar grin appeared on his face. The way his lips curled ever so slightly made shivers run down your spine. He was up to something.

“Oh?” You were certainly curious. Loki never had bad ideas. Well, it depended on how one would define ‘bad’ ideas. 

“Let’s elope, in secret. It’ll be just you and me and whoever shall wed us. No one needs to know until it’s official,” Loki proposed his idea to you.

And it was a brilliant idea. It was exactly what you had wanted. Something small and private. Away from hundreds or thousands of eyes which meant you could be comfortable. It wouldn’t be a show, it would be a loving moment just for you and just for him, one you would cherish forever. 

It was also slightly rebellious, which only made it so much better. You could already envision the smoke coming out of Odin’s ears, and the dumbfounded look on Thor’s face. The people would have something to gossip about. 

“What will your family think of it?” Honestly, you didn’t really care, but you played with the idea in your mind.

Loki put on a thoughtful look for a moment, pretending to be deep in thought, “I think...” He then returned his gaze to you and a playful gleam lit in his eyes, “that I don’t care at all. Perhaps my mother will be most understanding. Either way, it’s none of their concern, so what do you say?”

“Let’s do it,” You were convinced it was the best idea he could come up with regarding your wedding.

Loki was relieved to hear that and he quickly leaned close to you in order to catch your lips with his. The kiss deepened quickly. The way he held you was so strong and lively that you were afraid the chair would fall back, so you wrapped your arms around his strong torso to brace yourself.

When his soft lips pressed against the sensitive skin on your neck, you let out a laugh, “Loki!” You held onto him tighter, “if you’re going to kiss me like that, then maybe we shall move to the bed? This armchair wasn’t made for two.”

In a graceful manner, he dragged the two of you up to your feet, off of the chair, “if you insist, my love.”

_

The sun was beginning to set behind the horizon. It was still warm outside and the gentle wind cooled everything down. You were high over the water which allowed you to see most of Asgard, yet the place offered much needed privacy. Shadows cast on the stony pathway under your feet, which contrasted beautifully with the golden rays of sunlight that made everything look like a page from a fairy tale. Your eyes followed the trail of flower petals that smelled so lovely and sweet, and then you saw Loki.

He was standing there with a nervous smile on his face. The officiant who was going to wed you stood beside him and even he smiled as he saw you, but you could only focus on Loki. He wore his full Asgardian gear and the gold and emerald green looked fantastic on him. His raven hair was brushed neatly and it looked soft underneath his helmet. The emerald cape was flowing ever so lightly as the wind played with it.

In that moment, you felt like the luckiest person in the nine realms. 

You walked all the way up to him and then made sure your dress was smoothly cascaded around your legs and you wiped off any possible dust. It was the dress of your dreams and it made you feel so comfortable in your own skin. The jewelry you wore matched the dress and Loki’s gear, and you felt neat. You were truly a match made in the heavens. 

When your eyes met with Loki’s, your heart jumped to your throat. He looked so beautiful and happy. Joy was simply radiating from him and it was infectious. To see him like that was a sight you could never forget.

He took your hands into his and whispered, “you look ever so beautiful, my dear.” There was a tear in the corner of his eye and surely there were tears in yours. This was the moment you had waited for since you were small. It was your wedding day, when you and Loki would commit to one another for the rest of your lives. 

The officiant cleared his throat and you both turned to look at him. Asgardian weddings could vary so much. Everyone expected you to have the biggest wedding anyone had ever seen since Odin and Frigga’s, but here you were. It was just the three of you there. You didn’t recognize the officiant who was holding your rings, but it didn’t matter. The ceremony was going to be brief anyway and then you and Loki could do whatever your hearts desired. 

At first, the officiant spoke about your forefathers and mothers, asked them to bless you on your shared journey that was about to begin. He talked about Valhalla, and wished you strength and luck for your future. Eventually, it was time for your vows. You were slightly nervous then and you wondered how you would’ve felt if all of Asgard had been watching you. That would’ve been a nightmare. 

Loki took a deep breath as he prepared to speak. He had tried his best to remember his vows without having to look at a paper. Although he had known you for so long and shown you his most vulnerable sides, he felt jittery as he prepared to recite his vows to you.

“Y/N,” He began by saying your name. You gave his hands a comforting squeeze. You wondered if his words would make you cry. 

“You’re the love of my life. I still don’t understand what I did in order to end up with you, but I promise to make it all worthwhile. I assure you, I will stand by your side through thick and thin. I won’t let anything come between us, ever,” Loki seemed more confident after a few lines. He stood more comfortable and let the tension wash away from his muscles. 

“I will treat you like the goddess you are and I will support you through everything in life. You make me so happy, and I wish to make you happy too. I will cherish each and every day that I get to spend with you, because I love you. I love you for all that you are and who you will become as we grow. You make me feel like a better person and you make me want to be good.”

“...I want to listen to you, to be your rock. I want to go through good days and bad because now I know that I won’t be alone. I know that I am much to handle, but I will never allow my life to come in the way of yours. No matter where life takes us, I won’t leave you alone. As long as we’re together, I promise to be the best version of myself. For our future family, for us, for you,” Loki continued his vows smoothly. Each word seemed to come straight from his heart and soul. They certainly tugged at your heartstrings in the very best way. There was no doubt, Loki loved you as much as you loved him.

“I will love you, always,” He finished his vows with a pledge. If it wasn’t for the ceremony, you would’ve kissed him. Each cell of your being was practically begging for it, but you kept yourself together for just a while longer. 

He grabbed the golden ring carefully, afraid he would drop it. Then he held your hand and slipped the ring on your finger. It was a perfect fit and it looked amazing. The green jewel looked like magic as sunlight pierced through it from a million different angles. You would have to get used to carrying that on your finger, but it wasn’t heavy. It was just right.

Now it was your turn. Both Loki and the officiant looked at you expectantly. How could you match Loki’s words? You only hoped that he could feel the sincerity of your soft spoken words. 

“Loki, you are the light of my life, the reason why I get through even the hardest of days, and why I can enjoy the good days even more than I usually would,” You tried your hardest to stay composed. A part of you wanted to crumble because you were so overwhelmed with love. When you felt his hands on yours, you managed to stay calm and collected and you continued,

“I promise to be your ally in conflict, your partner in life, parenthood, crime,” You joked just to ease the tension you felt, earning a chuckle from Loki who hadn’t expected that, but he found it amusing nonetheless. This was exactly why he loved you. You were never too serious. Truly, you were his partner in crime.

“I promise to be yours forever. Being with you makes life feel complete. On hard days when we argue, I promise I won’t go to bed angry. I want to work with you through everything life has to offer. I will never abandon you. If you go, I go, right?” You paused for a moment and tried to remember the rest of your vows. You had written them down several times and you were happy you did so, because it made it so much easier to remember. The sentences came straight from your heart now.

Before you could go on, you decided to grab the ring that would soon decorate his hand. You held onto it for dear life.

“I can’t wait to grow old with you, Loki. I promise to give you my heart, my soul, my faith. Regardless of what happens in the future, I’m here for you. We will face it all together. From this day forward, until the day we die, until we are reunited in Valhalla, I love you. Always,” You felt immensely relieved as you finished your vows. It felt good to have said it all and know that soon you would be married. 

Loki let you put the ring around his finger, and his ring fit him flawlessly too. For a moment, you adored the way your hands looked now that you both had your wedding rings on. It was almost too good to be true. 

And when you tried to study Loki’s expression, you felt confident that the words had been enough for his ears. You couldn’t remember ever seeing him look so radiant. It was like you had stepped on cloud nine together and nothing could possibly drag you down. 

The officiant deemed you finished, so he spoke, “I say this before our forefathers and mothers so that they may bless this marriage. They may bare witness to the bond that you are about to form,” He turned to face the prince, “do you Prince Loki Odinson of Asgard take Y/N Y/L/N to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish until all eternity’s end?” 

The moment you had waited for was finally here

Loki faced you fully and he couldn’t dream of getting married to anyone but you. It was easy for him to say, “I do.”

The man nodded and then asked you the very same question, “Do you Y/N Y/L/N, take Prince Loki Odinson of Asgard to be your lawfully wedded husband to have and to hold, from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish until all eternity’s end?

Your heart was racing in your chest. It was like you were floating, that was how delighted you felt. There was no doubt to be found in your voice as you responded,

“I do.”

“Very well then,” The man failed to hold back a smile, “I now pronounce you husband and wife. May the gods and goddesses of Valhalla bless this marriage.”

Just like that, you were married.

Both of you were so ecstatic. When Loki leaned close to you and kissed you, it felt like you had entered paradise. Like all the flowers bloomed in seconds, like butterflies danced all around you, like you were bathing in sunlight and magic. You were enveloped in each other’s arms and your lips were sealed in a passionate kiss that felt never ending. It was your first kiss in the new chapter of your lives, and it was just for you. 

The officiant gathered his things and left as quietly as a mouse, which Loki and he had agreed upon previously. That you barely noticed as you were lost in one another. It wasn’t until you parted from the kiss that you realized you were alone, just the way you liked it, away from prying eyes. 

Loki wrapped his arm around your waist and then turned to look over the balcony. Vines were hanging over the railing and now you noticed the flowers he - or someone else - had set up. The sun was almost below the horizon and it painted the sky a beautiful mix of orange, gold and pink. Far away, you could already see a pool of stars gathering around the moons of Asgard. It was a beautiful sight. 

“We’re married,” Loki had to say it out loud. It was difficult to believe to be true. 

“Yes we are, my husband,” calling Loki that was thrilling. You wanted to shout it from the rooftops. 

My husband, he enjoyed the sound of that. He would never grow bored of hearing it, he was sure. Loki played with the material of your dress, finding it smooth to touch. He couldn’t wait to discard it. He wanted to make you get lost in pleasure and bliss that night. 

“I have a surprise for us,” Loki decided it was time. 

“You do?” 

“It’s our wedding day, my love. Of course I have more planned out for just the two of us,” Loki explained. He had been determined to make it special without guests. If others insisted on having a party later, that would be a problem for another day. You could celebrate without the judging guests and Loki’s family that could be a bit over the top. 

“Does it involve cake?” You wondered curiously as he offered you his arm to hold onto. As you accepted that, he began to lead the way.

“You’ll have to wait and see.”

~ select your surprise ~

[surprise 1]

[surprise 2]

[surprise 3]

A/N: choose wisely! Or read them all, it’s up to you. 

I tried not to make the wedding too earthly, you know? I hope you enjoyed it. Now please, enjoy the surprise ending of your choosing :)

TAGS:

Forever Taglist:  @iraniq  @embrycallsgirl  @blackroseyaz @badass-psycho  @r-alexandra01 @p3aches13  @your-pixels-are-showing @disasterren @iamsuperjenna  @yuna-belikova @ornella0910 @optimisticpeacecollector5 @thehumanistsdiary @your-pixels-are-showing @klanceiscannon14  @peterpanouat​

Loki: @yuna-belikova​ @ornella0910 @castiels-majestic-wings @lucywrites02 @myraiswack​ @prettysbliss​ @weirdfangirl2416​

[nanowrimo]

5 Tips for Finishing Your Novel

April’s session of Camp NaNoWriMo is drawing to a close, and you might find yourself nearing the end of your novel. If you need some tips on writing and polishing the ending of your story, author Derek Murphy is here to share a few! Plus, you can check out the rest of our novel-finishing resources on our #NaNoFinMo page. 

You won NaNoWriMo and have a 50k collection of scenes and sentences, but how do you clean it up and get it done? How do you make sure it’s finished, satisfying and enjoyable? Here are 5 powerful strategies for finishing your novel and some helpful writing tips that will push you past the finish line.

1. Give it a satisfying resolution.

In order to have a powerful story, your book should probably focus on a main character’s change or transformation. There’s an inner war, a.k.a. the character’s emotional healing, and an outer war: the conflict that forced the reckoning. If it’s a purely symbolic internal realization, you can mirror that with actual conflict in the real scene: the breaking of a dish, a fit of rage, a sudden ray of sunlight (or a storm… this should not be pleasant; It’s a breaking point and spiritual death/rebirth).

You can clarify the moment of change by setting up an illustrative contrast, a before and after, that shows how those internal changes have resulted in real-world consequences or benefits. Each character’s unique challenge will match their personal weakness or fear. The price for victory is the one thing they have so far refused to do, or something they cannot give up or bear to lose.

Make sure your protagonist has gone through a transformative struggle to arrive at deep insights, knowledge or awareness. Find a way to deepen the incidental scenes so that they become instrumental to a deeper purpose, leading towards an identity-shifting event.

The plot is what happens, and it’s important. But you can make it more dramatic and meaningful by making sure you demonstrate how hard it was and what it cost. It matters, it is remarkable, because it forced your protagonist to change.

Your conclusion might include:

Physical tension as allies perform a tug-of-war battle against resistance, that shows how difficult this struggle is, and how much force is required.

The consideration phase, as characters are tempted last minute or the price for victory is revealed: the sweet memories that give them awareness that this fight is worth the cost or risk (you need to show them making the choice, knowing what they will lose).

The final flashback, as the full backstory is revealed so we can see exactly why this conflict is so difficult or meaningful for the main character.

2. Add (unresolved) conflict.

Your story is made up of the events and scenes, where something happens. Each new event will push the characters further into the plot. Slow scenes where nothing is really happening can be red flags, so the first thing to focus on is increasing conflict, drama, suspense and intrigue. This is what creates urgency. The full reveal, demonstrating why THIS challenge is so difficult and powerful, should happen just before the final battle or resolution.

You want to make sure every scene, especially in your conclusion, has enough conflict. I recommend these three:

Outer Conflict (threats): Challenges or obstacles that prevent the character from achieving goals.

Inner Conflict (doubts): Moral struggles, decisions, guilt or shame, anger.

Friendly Fire (betrayal): Strong disagreements between allies or supporting characters. 

You want to extend and deepen the potential conflict, without resolving it too easily. The biggest destroyer of conflict is conversation: when your characters just sit around and talk to each other. Most conflict involves a lack of information, and a desire for clarity. A lot of conflict is perceived or imagined.

The most important information needs to come last, and come at a great price. The information that has an emotional impact, and influences their actions and decisions, should be big reveals at dramatic peaks. A surprise or twist should be treated as an event: each scene is leading towards a change or new piece of information that provokes the protagonist to respond.

3. Fill plot holes with character motivation.

After you’ve made sure that “what actually happens” is intriguing (opening questions and raising tensions without resolving them) you can focus on making sure the plot holes are filled, and characters are properly motivated – these two things are usually adjacent.

You can find and fill plot holes by asking:

Why are the characters doing this?

Why does any of it matter?

Basically, readers need to respect the main characters enough to care what happens to them, so their choices and actions need to make sense within the given information. If there’s a simpler, easier solution, readers will get stuck up on “why didn’t they just…”? To fix plot holes and gaps in logic or continuity, or make the story go where you need it to, you can add urgency, fix the mood of the scene (bigger stakes require bigger justifications), show characters in a weakened mental state, or raise concerns but have them dismissed, with an excuse or justification.

You need rational characters to make plausible choices that lead to dire consequences. You need show why they don’t do something easier, or nothing at all, or why they face clear challenges, despite potential obstacles.

They’ll also require a deeper motivation, for why they’re willing to put themselves in identity-destroying conflict, rather than just giving up or running away. Why do they stay in THIS fight, when they’ve run from similar ones? If they weren’t ready at the beginning, why are the ready now – what changed in them, as a result of your story’s journey?

Your protagonist needs to have a strong, consistent internal compass, and it needs to be revealed through incidents that establish their character. This is who they are. Without this reliable core identity, we won’t be able to tell a story that forces them to change. 

4. Let readers picture your story with detailed description.

In the final stages of revision, you can begin improving the description with specific details.

It’s smart to start – or end – a chapter with a vivid, immediate scene. You want to leave readers with an image they can see in their minds, hopefully connected to the feeling you aim to evoke. You can close a chapter with a reference back to a motif or image, with a deeper or more reflective context; applying meaning to the metaphor. This will help readers feel engaged, be moved, and leave a lasting impact.

Vivid scenes are mostly a matter of detailed description, so add the specifics about the story environment. Be precise, not vague. Instead of “she put a plate of tea and snacks on the table” you can write “she gently placed an antique porcelain teapot on the table. I could smell it was Earl Grey from the scent of bergamot. The half-sleeve of Oreos and can of onion-flavored Pringles seemed incongruous with the fancy dishes, but I knew she was making an effort to welcome me.”

Focus on the sensations and feelings; but also zero-in on any potential sources of conflict or internal emotions or states of mind. In my example above, the host might be nervous or ashamed of her spread; or perhaps she has a degenerative brain disease and doesn’t notice the incongruity. Tensions are unspoken, potential sources of negative feelings. They hover in the background of your description.

Readers will remember the pictures you put in their heads, not the words on the page.

Description should serve and be bound to the story, not distract from it.

It should be squeezed into and around the scene action, when the protagonist is using or exploring.

Show what’s different, not what’s the same.

Leave space for readers to fill in the gaps, but get them started in the right direction so they aren’t surprised later.

Sidenote: be careful about your metaphors, analogies and similes. Each one will put a picture into readers’ minds, and it can quickly get overcrowded with imagery. You’re asking them to ignore your real scene and think of something else. Use them to confirm and amplify the scene you have, and limit distractions.

5. Prepare to publish.

Typos are bad, but perfectionism will ruin you. This section is about editing and proofreading, but I don’t have time for all that, and you don’t either. The real problem with a story is rarely the number of typos. A very clean book isn’t better if people stop reading.

You can solve a lot of common writing problems, with my big list of 25 common writing mistakes, and self-edit your manuscript to make it as good as possible. After that, a copyeditor or proofreader isn’t always the best investment (and it can also be the biggest publishing cost).

Instead, use an editing software (I like Grammarly) to root out obvious mistakes, but don’t dwell on the small stuff like perfecting every word or rearranging the commas. Spending a very long time wrestling a poorly-written manuscript in shape is less effective than getting something (actually) done to the point where you’re comfortable sharing it.

This may be difficult at first, but you can’t learn and improve without genuine reader feedback (from people who aren’t your mom or best friend; nor the short-sighted opinions of a self-proclaimed literature enthusiast). You need to find readers who enjoy your particular genre, and the sooner you find them, the more valuable feedback you can get.

Shorten the feedback loop: Get over the fear and focus on learning by getting feedback early and often. However, this doesn’t just mean joining a writer’s club: writers are brutal and might focus on trivial things. The safest bet is to make it public, on Wattpad at least. Or get a cheap cover and throw it up on Kindle, Draft2Digital or even your own blog.

Making it public is scary and vulnerable, but it’s better than letting the fear of messing up keep you from the brutal, necessary experience of allowing readers to tell you what they liked and disliked about your writing. Will some people be critical? Yes! But guess what, you’ll get negative reviews even if you’re a brilliant, famous writer. Those are inevitable. And the first negative reviews may teach you more about writing than 10 years attempting to self-edit, afraid of putting your book out into the world.

PS. You can use resources, like my 24-chapter plot outline, as a way to spot story gaps in your manuscript and improve the structure (especially if your book suffers from a “soggy middle.)

Derek Murphy has a PhD in Literature, writes urban fantasy and is the founder of the alliance of young adult authors. More recently, he’s started sharing writing tips on http://www.writethemagic.com

Top photo by Adegbenro Emmanuel Dipo on Unsplash.

[yannasunflower]

dust to dust | chapter two

chapter one | chapter two

ao3

You don't know what makes you save Kuroo Tetsurou's life. All you know is there is no world to save anymore, but damn if you're just stupid enough to try.

Genre: hurt/comfort/romance/angst Rating: Mature, subject to change (gore, violence) Kuroo x fem!Reader Word count: 3.5k

hey everyone! here's chapter two, as promised. this fic is also cross-posted to AO3, where i'm under the same username. linked above as well! next chapter, action picks up, plot picks up, and we get more Kuroo, promise. enjoy, and as always, please reblog, like, and comment <3

Nobody ever told you how absolutely boring a zombie apocalypse could be.

Your ragtag group of survivors have scavenged what entertainment they can - books and gym equipment, even a few board games. People like Suga and Takeda keep busy with the children, teaching them to read and garden and how to survive if mommy and daddy never come back for them.

You open one lazy eye as a gaggle of them stumble after Suga, hanging on to his every word.

You’re not sure how the two men handle placing a long knife in a child’s chubby hand, fingers barely able to grip it,and showing them how to strike right at a nighstalker’s heart, fast and deep. Their giggles float through the air and the sound is almost dreamlike and if you keep your eyes closed, you can pretend this is a movie and when you open them, the credits will roll and you can go home.

Others tend to the elderly, of which there are only three in your group. You try to keep them comfortable and as far from danger as possible. But your body constantly prickles with the knowledge that they aren’t just vulnerable - they are a vulnerability. A hole in the brick wall you are attempting to build around this little community.

The healthy and fit young people patrol and take rotations on the watchtowers. Teenagers help with the lessons. Takeda had been firm about this. Once a kid turned seventeen, they were allowed to join the patrols, but until then, they stayed sequestered away.

It was almost comical, telling a tall, strong, angry Tobio that he had to mind the children. He towers over you, but he had bent to your will after a brief glaring contest. And then a week later, Shoyo had bounded into everyone’s hearts, including his, and the pair were inseparable.

Kiyoko, for her part, had taken one look at Yachi, shivering at Hinata’s side, and adopted her, sweeping her under a protective wing and keeping her there.

For people like you, who have no “bedside manner” as Kiyoko puts it, there are chores and day to day mini emergencies to keep you busy. Somehow, in the months since the world finally decided to fall apart, you have become mediator and negotiator. It’s an unlikely role; you can see your mother’s arched brow if she was still alive to see you now.

You barely have the patience for grocery shopping.

She would have laughed, elbowing your father, who would have made a valiant attempt at a straight face.

These are useless memories but you allow yourself to indulge for a moment. You have nothing better to do. Lunch is cooking, inventory has been completed, the guard rotation is set for the next two weeks. Ukai had waved you off this morning when you finally managed to corner him, complaining about your ceaseless energy and the “mad glint” in your eye. His words.

“That look means trouble for me,” he had growled, pointing an accusing finger at you. “Go to your cell and get some sleep for the love of anything you find holy.” Without another word, the man had leaned against a wall, put his feet up on his desk, and closed his eyes. A clear dismissal. You tried not to huff but you definitely stomped a little bit on the way out.

You don’t know how to tell him that staying in your cell, with your eyes closed, is inviting the living nightmares. You don’t know how to tell anyone, really, that you are just as haunted as this prison, as Daichi’s eyes.

That the only holy thing left in this world is fear and if you succumb to that, you’ll never move again.

You let a sigh tumble out of you. Forcibly, you shove your thoughts in another direction.

It had been a week since you brought home your latest stray. Kuroo had spent the first three days doing little else but sleep and eat. Daichi has taken to walking him around the Pit every day, explaining the way things work, and Suga showed him his pride and joy just yesterday. Kuroo had been suitably impressed by the garden, if the generous second and third helpings Suga thought he was sneaking to him at dinnertime were anything to go by.

The man has filled out nicely. He looks less skeleton, more human after sleep and hot food. You had peeked in on him in the grey of dawn that morning after Daichi not-so-subtly hinted that Kuroo had been asking about you.

He sleeps curled up on his side, hair falling against his cheek. In another world, you would have taken a picture.

Kiyoko tells you that the men like him, that Tanaka has stopped regarding him with all the wariness of a stray cat, and that she’s pretty sure Yachi has a crush on him.

You open your eyes into a blazing afternoon, unsurprised to see the subject of your thoughts stretching in the courtyard, the weak sunlight rippling over his bare arms. His black hair is messy as ever and you are struck all over again by how tall he is.

Tobio got a new babysitter, you think with no small amount of amusement. The gangly teenager needs someone to keep him in line and frankly, you don’t have the time and Hinata is just as likely to suggest some stupid shit for them to get into as he is.

You are still stretched out like a cat on a bench, letting the sun warm you, half-hoping it will lull you into a nap.

It’s boredom, more than anything, that makes you turn your head toward Kuroo.

“If you’d like to get some exercise, we have equipment. I’m sure Noya can show you,” you call.

Kuroo jumps and swivels to look at you, eyes wide and so, so dark. You look away. Something about him is like staring at the sun; too long, and your eyes burn.

“Didn’t see you there,” he admits easily, sauntering over to your bench. You eye his approach, noting that he really must be feeling a lot better. His movements are more fluid now, lean muscles becoming apparent on his shoulders.

Daichi has blessed every woman, and a few men, in the Pit by finding Kuroo a pair of grey joggers and a muscle tank top for everyday wear.

“I don’t do well with sitting still,” he says, leaning over you. His head casts you in shadow, blotting out the sun. “This is something I think you can understand.”

Up close, you can see that the shadows beneath his eyes are retreating gradually. His smile looks less like a grimace today.

You hum, swinging your legs over the bench and sitting up. Blood rushes from your head and you lean back against your palms. Kuroo lowers himself to sit next to you.

“Daichi forces me to limit my rotations on the guard towers and patrols,” you answer. “When we first found this place and cleaned it out, I was working overtime and made myself sick. Him and Kiyoko have been conspirators against me ever since.”

Your fingers thrum against your thigh as you say this. You feel more than see Kuroo’s eyes on them.

“They love you,” he points out, a little unnecessarily.

You snort.

“Love is expensive nowadays and everyone in the Pit is broke.”

“You love them back even more.”

You glare at him but he is just looking at you, tracing the planes of your face. A frown tugs at your lips.

“How are you feeling?”

Kuroo rolls his shoulders experimentally, stretching his arms above his head.

“Better,” he affirms. “More like myself.”

“A nosy busybody who talks like a grandpa?”

“Exactly.”

He is grinning now and you have to fight to keep yourself from returning the expression.

The bruises on his face are yellow now. You estimate it will only take a couple more weeks of regular meals for his face to fill out and his skin to look youthful again. You don’t bother asking him how long he had been alone, what happened to his family. None of that matters now. The apocalypse is a great equalizer.

“I talked to Takeda and Kiyoko this morning,” you begin, leaning your head back and closing your eyes against the sun. “They agreed to give you another week before putting you on guard rotation.”

“I would appreciate that. I want to earn my keep, however I can.”

A ghost of a smile dances across your lips.

“You’re just bored,” you tease. It’s been a long time since you felt sleepy and loose enough to tease anyone.

“You say that now, but newbies get the shittiest schedule possible,” you warn him, unsure why you’re telling him this. “Be prepared. Once you’re back to top form, we’ll discuss sending you on patrols for medicine and expanding that garden of Suga’s.”

There’s silence but it’s comfortable, easy. You let yourself enjoy it for just a few moments before standing, opening your eyes and offering Kuroo a full smile and your hand.

As he shakes it, looking only a little confused, you wonder how much longer he would have survived on his own in the city.

“Welcome to the Pit,” you say before turning on your heel and walking away.

~~~

Nightmares are as plentiful as soil on Suga’s fingers.

A sliver of moonlight is all that keeps you from sinking into the darkness, skin clammy, chest heaving. Your fingers twist into the sheets. A prayer is whispered that you didn’t scream this time. You can’t bear the thought of Kiyoko running again, feet bare, knife in hand and tears glistening on her cheeks. Her utter, pure relief haunted you for a month.

It would be so easy, you think, to never get up again.

Kiyoko would care for you. Daichi would stop by, every day, and update you. Ukai would read to you, probably, or nap in your cell, unlit cigarette dangling from his lips.

These are the thoughts that force you up, out, stumbling into your worn boots, shrugging a jacket on.

Takeda finds you in the office hours later, hunched over inventory reports in his neat handwriting, hair pulled back. He puts a pot of coffee on and hands you a steaming mug, holding a hand out for the report you’re struggling to understand.

“Winter is coming,” you sigh as you hand it over. He doesn’t ask about the shadows beneath your eyes, doesn’t comment on the fact that it’s barely six-thirty in the morning and you’ve clearly been awake for a number of hours.

A smile quirks at his lips.

“I didn’t know Tanaka managed to get the TV’s up and running,” he jokes. You wave your hand in a vague gesture, taking another sip of the liquid heaven in your hand.

“We need to get winter supplies,” you answer and that sobers him up. He nods, slowly, eyes roving the paper.

“Winter isn’t for over six months,” he reminds you. An eyebrow is raised. A teacher, waiting for an explanation. In moments like these, you see the high school teacher that you’d found barricaded in his office, babbling a stream of students’ names that Daichi had quietly whispered as your group cut them down, reading them off their uniforms.

On Takeda’s worst nights, as you guarded the door to his cell, you’d heard those same names, apologies and nonsensical gibberish streaming from his mouth as he grappled with his dreams and feverish tremors.

You stand, stretching, before stepping in front of a map of the city that Suga had snagged on one of his patrols. It’s huge, taking up an entire wall. Little markers litter the paper, different colors, and you run your finger over the pale blue ones in the northeast corner.

“There’s a limited supply of winter clothes in the city. I don’t want other groups getting to it first - we don’t need that bastard holding it over our heads when we have food and they don’t,” you remind him. Your arms cross behind your back automatically. “With the snows, we’ll need snow boots. The kids need jackets and thermals. We need to completely outfit the prison’s entire water supply system to last through snowstorms. We need hot water before then or half of us are going to be too sick, and the other half will be taking care of them. We need medicine, too.”

You tick off each item on your fingers, pausing to consider if you’ve missed something. You’re probably missing ten somethings and you struggle to see what they are. You need more coffee.

Takeda is twenty-nine, but when you turn to look at him finally, he seems sixty, glasses dangling from his fingers, nose bridge pinched between his knuckles.

He mutters something suspiciously close to a curse under his breath before opening his eyes.

“You’re right,” he admits. “We’re going to need at least seven months to prepare.”

The morning is a whirlwind. You send the youngest children, always the earliest risers, to fetch Daichi and Kiyoko, both much more bright-eyed than they have any right to be. Takeda drags a yawning Ukai into the office moments later and Tanaka slouches after them. Suga pokes his head in to give you a little wave and knowing smirk that everyone else finds nonthreatening before ushering the children to the cafeteria for their breakfast.

You’re positive you’re not imagining the pale pink coating Daichi’s cheeks.

After explaining the situation, everyone sucks in a collective breath.

Tanaka never sits and always faces a door. From his corner of the room, he glowers at the map.

“Well, fuck,” he neatly summarizes. You nod your appreciation for his conciseness.

“We need to get a hold of meat,” Ukai points out. A something you had missed.

You grab a marker and the portable whiteboard Takeda had grabbed a few weeks ago. In neat characters, you begin documenting everything thrown around the table.

“Raising livestock will be another way to keep the little ones busy.”

“We can’t ask people to shower in cold water during winter, that’s cruel.”

“Tanaka, is there any way to get the heating system up and running by then?”

“What about air conditioning? We have to get through the summer to get to winter, and heat is just as likely to kill us.”

“If other groups realize what we’re doing, we could be in trouble.”

A headache is brewing somewhere behind your temples and you bite back a groan. Kiyoko pushes a cool water bottle into your hand and you know she isn’t fooled for one second.

“I think we’re missing someone here,” Kiyoko points out mildly after what feels like an eternity of circular conversation. All eyes turn to her and she’s unruffled, fingers still wrapped around her mug.

“Kuroo could be a huge help to a lot of this,” she continues. “I’m sure he can help Tanaka and Noya with everything on their list, and we need more able-bodied men on the patrols anyway. He can help us with medicine, our food supply, all of it.”

A furtive glance in Tanaka’s direction is not encouraging. He’s glowering, eyes hooded.

“We barely know him,” Tanaka hisses. You have to privately agree.

“We barely know each other,” Ukai shoots back. “We’ve been here, what, three months?”

“He hasn’t even been on a patrol yet and you want him helping us make important decisions that affect everyone, including the kids?”

“That’s unfair, and you know it, Tanaka,” Takeda says patiently, but somehow reproachfully at the same time. “Kuroo has been in no condition to patrol. The man was emaciated.”

Takeda continues, levying everyone at the table with a stern face.

“We all trust each other now because we took the gamble and brought people in and allowed time to prove it. It was always a risk, and it will always be a risk, but we can’t let that stop us. What we’re doing here is more important than just working together to survive.”

It’s a flowery, nice sentiment, to be expected from a literature teacher, and you barely hold back a snort at Ukai’s warning look.

“None of this matters,” you cut in. “Takeda’s right. And so is Kiyoko. He could be a huge help to you specifically, Tanaka, and he’s getting better every day but we have to give him time before he’s physically ready. You saw him when we brought him in – he was skin and bones.”

Tanaka subsides into grumbling acceptance and you take it as a win.

Daichi returns with Kuroo in tow just minutes later, and if Kuroo is at all confused, he doesn’t show it. He folds himself into a chair, all long limbs and wide feet.

The problems are laid out on the table again. You watch as Kuroo absorbs it, eyes narrowed, flicking sometimes to the map on the wall.

“Frankly, I wish we were in an apartment building,” Tanaka reveals after an hour of debating the best way to acquire livestock.

You sigh, rubbing the heel of your hand into your eyes hard enough to see colors. You know it’s not Tanaka’s fault, that he’s saying out loud something you’d privately thought before. That the electrical systems in apartment buildings would be much easier for him to coax into submission.

But you’re tired. Kiyoko is rubbing the old wound on her shoulder again, Ukai’s fingers are tapping a loud rhythm on the table, and Daichi is watching you lose your mind with that same placid smile in place.

“I wish the apocalypse didn’t happen and we all didn’t have nightmares every damn night, but here we are,” you snap. “I wish we were all cozy in furnished apartments right now, too, and I wish we didn’t have to talk about these things.”

You wish the children didn’t have to hold knives, you wish Suga would stop forcing you to eat, you wish you could forget your mother’s laugh, you wish and wish and wish.

Tanaka’s mouth is open and Daichi is sighing, rubbing a hand over his face. Kuroo’s eyes are expressionless and he just looks like he’s waiting, though for what, you can’t even begin to guess.

You find that you don’t have the energy to regret the words, so you barrel on.

“The apartment buildings are stacked with nightstalkers. It would take weeks to clear even one out, and we would lose people. Guaranteed. We lost one person clearing this prison out and that —”

You’re cut off by a strange choking noise in your throat. The memory of Ennoshita is sweet, cloying, poisonous. Takeda looks pale and strained at the mention of it. His last student.

Your voice is pitched low when you manage to blink away traitorous tears. The sound of your chair scraping is loud and grating against your ears as you stand. They all watch you silently. Waiting.

“Ennoshita is buried here,” you say and the surprise on their faces is almost insulting. “So is Ayasaki’s little girl. We have a life here, one we built and fought for. The kids love it here, it’s as safe as it can get, and it’s isolated from the turf wars in the city. You know why we chose this place, you were part of the vote that decided it, Tanaka.”

Deep breath in. Out.

“I know I’m asking for a lot, but it’s necessary, and we’re all up to the task simply because we have to be.”

As far as motivational speeches go, you’re sure this is ranked pretty low. But Daichi straightens and Kuroo’s eyes are gleaming as he stares at you. Kiyoko is almost smiling and you take that into both of your hands and hold on for dear life.

“I have to protect them.”

Everyone in the room opens their mouth at pretty much the same time but Ukai beats them all to the punch with his lazy drawl.

“You’re a moron,” he sneers. “An absolute idiot if you think you’re doing any of this alone. Now run along and get some breakfast before Suga drags you there by your hair.”

~~~

It doesn’t surprise you when Kiyoko finds you later, on the roof, scribbling half-mad ideas into a plain notebook. She always knows where to find you.

“I think you should stay home tomorrow,” she says without preamble. The word home nearly sends you stumbling off the roof.

“Why? Am I dying and I don’t know it?” you ask dryly. The look she levels at you nearly makes your heart stop.

“We agreed to let Kuroo go tomorrow,” she explains, settling into the spot next to you, peering curiously at the notebook in your hand. “But you haven’t been sleeping and we can’t afford to lose you because you’re too tired to stand properly.”

You scowl. Damn the four eyes. Her and Takeda know too much for their own good.

“I’m fine,” you wave a hand dismissively. “I’ll get some rest tonight, promise.”

She let’s the matter go, which is a point for you, but you watch warily as she opens her mouth again.

“Tanaka is looking for you.”

A sigh.

“I should apologize.”

“That’s what he said.”

A laugh, short and barking, escapes you. Kiyoko smiles at the sound.

“We’re all such idiots.”

[ladyeliot]

The September Foundation Grant

Request: @iawaythrown Avengers x Teen reader. The reader is a brilliant engineer, that makes (grade A+) battle armor & weapons. The Vulture and the reader works together by selling these illegal armor & weapons. (The Vulture even gives the reader profit because the reader lives alone) The reader learns at school (The R is the quiet/loner kid) about Vulture getting arrested and they soon decide to leave New York and disappear. They grab all their money and leave but is followed/arrested by Tony and Peter at the reader house. They learn that the Vulture snitched on him. Ending could be up to you.

Pairing: Vulture / Iron Man / Spider-man x Teen!Reader

Warnings: Illegal work.

Word count: 1829

A/N:  Sorry it took so long! / Sorry for my spelling and grammatical mistakes, English is not my native language, I am learning.

Anything could happen in New York City. A place that never slept, that was always awake at all hours, where criminals and children went everywhere hand in hand. Everything was hidden, but also in plain sight, if you knew where to look. Its streets were a labyrinth, but they always led to a way out, everything had an end. Its neighbourhoods were small communities distributed by culture or social status, but that did not prevent them from relating to each other. A teenager raised in Queens might have different limitations than one raised in the Upper East Side, but it all depends on the person. What I mean is, you never know what your life is going to be like in New York City.

Your mind was in constant operation, even if you wanted it to, it never stopped, it never rested, in a millisecond the thought passed through it 'when was the last time I slept'. You were in a hangar near the Harlem docks, this lucrative activity occupied a large part of your free time after high school, taking up your weekends as well. You could call it 'extracurricular activity' or also 'gainful employment', or maybe a combination of both, after all you were improving your engineering skills and earning money for it.

You had been enrolled in that new business for more than five months, your expectations for the future had changed, now you weren't so sure if going to university was what you really wanted. You were not driven by the easy money, what you were doing was much more than that, it was money, knowledge and all the adrenaline possible to do something legally binding. All the talent that you thought would be wasted and that you had never been valued was now being used to do something else, to be someone in the world, even if it was in the hidden world.

You designed, created and crafted technologically advanced combat armour and weaponry, you built things you hardly thought you would be able to make. All you needed was the time and the facilities that Adrian Toomes had offered you. He discovered you, he had set his sights on you and trusted you, something that many other people had not done before. In your past years you dreamed of getting a position at MIT, but now it was no longer among your priorities, at least for the time being.

Adrian's discovery came about in the most natural way possible. You were attending Midtown School of Science and Technology, and one day during a chemistry class the teacher had the brilliant idea of paired assignments, so you were paired with Liz Toomes. Liz is a really intelligent young woman, the problem in question was the wide difference between your characters, your quiet countenance and your passivity for social relations caused discomfort among your classmates, but leaving that aside, you decided to go to her house to do the work. It was there that you met her father, Adrian, who found your project notebook when you dropped it on your way to Liz's room. He was clever, slipping in a note with his personal phone number expressing his interest in your projects. At first you were completely shy of the idea, but eventually you agreed, otherwise you wouldn't be in that situation.

The first project you did was an improvement to his exo-suit, he had been working on it for years, but for reasons you didn't know he didn't want to tell you who had helped him make it, he just told you that you had everything you needed at your disposal and that he wanted to see what you could be able to do, and so he did.

Since that day the small business you had in your hands had evolved, Toomes was in charge of the public-facing transactions, and you were hidden away carrying the full weight of engineering. But that didn't mean that when you went back out on the streets you became a normal teenager again.

On a Monday like any other Monday, New York City was glowing in the sunlight. On the drive to school we went over in a steady stream what we had studied for the maths exam you had in the fourth period, although it was really something you had passed a long time ago. You kept yourself hidden under a pair of headphones, listening for anything that would prevent you from interacting with people. Your day-to-day actions when you walked through that door were mechanical. You walked thirty-three steps down the main corridor, turned right, twenty-seven steps to your locker, entered code 5432, opened it and took your books, dropped off your lunch, closed it again and headed for your class, trying not to bump into anyone who crossed your path. That, day after day.

But that day, that second between songs, when your ears came back to the real world you heard a word "Vulture". Your senses quickly focused on the conversation that group of girls were having, you stopped the music and without looking at them you sharpened your hearing.

"My cousin just sent me the video," one of them said, showing her mobile phone to the others. "He was arrested tonight, on the Harlem waterfront. Isn't Spider-man cool?"

"Wow!" exclaims one.

"I can't believe the Vulture is Liz's dad," adds another girl. "By the way does anyone know anything about her?"

That conversation caused a pang inside you. You quickly, but as calmly as possible, closed your locker and headed in the opposite direction of the entire student body, heading back outside. You knew what this meant, your mind had explored various scenarios about the possible events that could happen if the FBI or anyone else discovered you. You knew what you had to do, how to do it and where to go, you had created a plan in your head. You didn't trust Adrian to take all the blame and you would come out of the situation unscathed, you were a minor and could always appeal to a corrupt situation, but that wasn't your style either.

Step by step you were fulfilling your plan, the first thing was to erase any traces that implicated you in those events, you had to go home and get rid of everything you had in your possession that implicated you, both physically and virtually, then it would be better for you to disappear for some time, you had plenty of money to do so and you knew that your family would not care too much where you were.

You went into the house, you had hours ahead of you until one of your parents returned. You went to your room and began to tidy up every gadget or item on your bed that connected you to the crime. It took you very little time compared to how long it took you to erase your fingerprints from the virtual world, it was obvious that you kept your figure hidden under a pseudonym, but every weapon or armour that the FBI had confiscated had your fingerprint on it, a fingerprint that could lead them to you.

The hours passed, you knew that sooner or later your parents were going to walk through the door, time was running out for you to catch a bus out of that city. You opted to pack up your things, leave that note and continue erasing data during the long trip to Arizona, but it was too late. A loud noise from the hallway alerted you that your time had come to an end.

"Ms. Y/L/N, you know what they say about sometimes you have to run before you walk?" Iron Man appeared before your eyes. "Too slow."

The armour that stood before you cut off your main passage to the exit, though you knew in your gut that there was little you could do against it without outside help. Slowly you reached inside your backpack and pulled out one of your unfinished projects, a laser that fired a powerful beam at the armour. That mere distraction allowed you to turn around and head inside your bedroom with the intention of climbing out of your window and down the fire escape, however as you were about to do so a body burst through the window, launching a slimy mass that stuck you to the wall of your room.  In front of you Iron Man and Spider-man, both staring at you, and you feeling the most vulnerable being at that moment.

"Wow!" Spider-Man picked up the laser from the floor. "This is cool! What kind of energy does it work with?"

"Hey kid! Put that down," his ally informed him. "Okay, do you know why we're here?" he asked waiting for an answer that never came. "Not very talkative, I understand, I was going to explain it to you anyway, do you know Adrian Toomes? I guess so, at least he knows you, he gave your name." your face hardened. "Yeah, well, I wouldn't be that surprised."

You remained impassive, listening to his every word and trying to form a plan in your head that would help you escape the situation.

"Listen, I have no intention of selling you out to the police," suddenly the Iron Man suit vanished, revealing the figure of Tony Stark before your eyes. "I admire you, I really do, well I don't mean I admire that you joined a group of criminals and created technologically enhanced weapons and sold them, but I admire your skills.

"Isn't that what you've done?" you finally interjected, responding to her retorts.

"Oh! She speaks!" he pointed at you, looking at Spider-man. "Good point. But to the point, you decide, you either come with us and decide to join the good side, or we leave you here for your parents to find you, explain everything that's happened and then to the police. You decide. The clock is ticking."

Your mind was reactivated again, it was clear that there were two options and only one of them was within your prospects. It might take you a while to forgive yourself for what you were going to do next, but it was your only way out. You nodded slowly and clenched your jaw tightly as you surrendered to those in front of you.

"Good choice," Tony said with a nod as Spider-man released you from those webs that had invaded your body.

From down the hall you heard the front door open and two people walked in, engaged in conversation, your parents. Your eyes widened exponentially.

"Just in time," Tony said. "See you later, kid. And you and I," he looked at you, "are going to explain to your parents about the September Foundation Grant."

Requests/Taglist Open (DM)

MAIN MASTERLIST

[ohmyasmodeus]

𝘴𝘶𝘯𝘴𝘦𝘵 𝘸𝘢𝘵𝘤𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘣𝘳𝘰𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘴 ☼

first of all, @smolomon​, i hope you know that i would die for you. effective now. if you want me to take a bullet for you i seriously will, thank you so much !! and thank you for your patience, i know this request has been sitting in the drafts for a hot minute, but i really wanted to make sure my writing was top notch because this is one of the best requests i’ve received thus far. i hope you love this imagine as much as i do ♡

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

♡ 𝘭𝘶𝘤𝘪𝘧𝘦𝘳

✧   You never believe people when they say that heaven is a place on earth, but standing with Lucifer on a deserted train platform waiting for the train home, bathed in golden light… you think you finally understand. You can’t help but laugh softly at the irony. Lucifer had visited you in the human world and spent the entire day with you, and the date couldn’t have ended in a better way.

✧   “What is it, love?” Lucifer murmurs as he pulls you close with his arms around your waist. Here, neither of you have to worry about affecting his reputation, and he showers you in affection freely. The sunset’s light illuminates his face brilliantly, falling on his strong cheekbones and making his lashes appear golden.

“I’m going to miss you...” you sigh. You gently bring your hands up to cradle his face, watching as his eyes gleam a vibrant scarlet as the light hits them.

“I’ll be back before you know it. I promised to take you to that museum this weekend, didn’t I?” The smile Lucifer gives you— the overwhelming love and all the sweet promises behind that smile make your heart ache, and he starts to sway the both of you gently as he talks. “But… I’m going to miss you too, _______.”

And you know he will. Despite the distance between the both of you, despite the dignified front that he has to put on around people, Lucifer is just as obsessed with you as you are with him. You know it and you feel it in the way his breath catches in his throat when he marvels at how gorgeous you look in the light; the way he holds you close while watching the sun set past the city’s skyline, slowly casting the both of you in brilliant crimson and golden light. There is nothing that needs to be said between the both of you. Your train rushes into the platform, and the moment is over in the blink of an eye, but Lucifer hugs you tight one last time before letting you leave. His gloved hand runs down the length of your arm as he lets you go.

You want to watch him watch your train drive by, but the wistful look he gives you as you leave is too much to leave everything simply unsaid. You find yourself rushing back to him and nearly tackling him as you fall into his arms almost desperately, looking up at him as you clutch the front of his coat to say, “Kiss me, Lucifer.”

And he kisses you without hesitation; without consideration for the people around you, without the need to hide just how in love he is with you. His hands are on your hips, pulling you closer, wanting everyone on the platform to know that he is eternally yours.

Heaven is a place on earth; any place at all with Lucifer.

♡ 𝘮𝘢𝘮𝘮𝘰𝘯

✧   hey, come over [received, 6:45pm]

✧   like rn [received, 6:46pm]

✧   Mammon seems disgruntled as you pull him onto the roof of your apartment building, and you have to hold in a laugh. You know your sudden text might’ve made him expect something completely different from being hustled onto a roof while holding a small stack of tupperware boxes.

“Oi, what am I! A slave?” Mammon whines as you direct him to set the boxes down on the floor. Crossing his arms, he pouts as he watches you set the picnic cloth down with a flourish, close to the barred railings of the rooftop. “Ya can’t just call me up and expect me to be at your every damn beck and call!”

“We have a pact, so I kind of can. Now shush and eat.” You pinch his cheek with a laugh, before pulling him down to have a seat with you. It’s obvious how much he missed you and continues to miss you every moment the two of you are apart, so even with his whining, you have to show him some love and lean your head on his shoulder. He wraps an arm around your waist instinctively to keep you as close as he possibly can, even as he rolls his eyes and grumbles.

Like a painting, the pale blue sky slowly shifts to gentle hues of rose quartz and dandelion yellow, and Mammon is completely enraptured. Completely thrilled in his silence, he grins as he watches the sun sink behind the hills that frame your city. If it wasn’t for you bringing the spoon up to his lips every so often, he would’ve let his food go cold in its lonely tupperware box. You find yourself enraptured as well, enchanted by the way his eyes light up and eventually flick to gaze at you.

“Ya never get to see anything like this in the Devildom… Never thought I’d call humans lucky, but shit.” Mammon’s voice is quiet, as if speaking any louder would frighten the sunset off and make the moment disappear. “It’s beautiful.”

Your heart can’t contain itself, and you laugh softly as you lean into his side and feed him another spoonful. “Just like you.”

“That’s my line…” Mammon grumbles, but there isn’t a hint of heat behind his words. Instead, he takes off his jacket and drapes it across the both of you, settling into your warmth as the evening chill starts to set in. Eventually, you’ll manage to wiggle into his lap and talk about the deepest parts of yourselves while trying to count the stars, completely unafraid to be true; but for now, you give him a kiss and quietly watch the greatest sunset of your life with your favourite person in the world.

♡ 𝘭𝘦𝘷𝘪𝘢𝘵𝘩𝘢𝘯

✧   Littered with reminders of him, your car is Leviathan’s favourite place to be. On days where you manage to wrangle him out of his room, he loves following you around as you run your errands in the human world and, much like a satisfied puppy, ends up waiting in the car with his Nintendo switch. (It makes you get the urge to place a sign on the door telling everyone that your snake of a boyfriend has the air conditioning turned on and has the window cracked open.)

✧   “Hey, look!” you say, trying to catch Levi’s attention. Aside from a noncommittal murmur from the demon that lays his head on your chest while the both of you snuggle in the backseat, your comment receives pretty much no acknowledgement whatsoever. You end up having to knee Levi to get him to look. “Babe, look out the window!”

Levi sighs, and sets his switch down on his chest. He shivers slightly in pleasure when you run a hand through his hair. “The sky’s just purple.”

“Just keep watching,” you tell him as you continue stroking his hair. Shades of lilac dominate the sky, fading off into a deeper royal shade struck through with bolts of gold that scatter throughout the clouds that pass. It all reminds you of him, the amount of charming personality he hides in the comfortable obscurity of his bedroom, the amount of secrets he reveals only to you. Levi watches in quiet contemplation that swiftly turns into fascination, especially when the stars start glimmering through the pale clouds.

“Woah!” he exclaims. “That’s so unreal! You guys get to watch stuff like this every day?”

“Most people don’t bother looking away from their screens for long enough to!” With a teasing laugh, you pinch his cheek and wrap your arms around his waist to snuggle closer into him.

“H-hey! Leave me alone!”

“I didn’t say I was talking about you! Are you admitting to something?” As Levi struggles in your grasp, you bury your face in his neck to blow raspberries that have him giggling, cheeks turning red as he tries to tickle you in return. You want to do this with him every night, you want to see him blush as you tease him… You want to give him all the affection you can, cuddled up in the backseat of your car for as long as he can stay in your arms.

♡ 𝘴𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘯

✧   Soft grass tickles your skin and makes you smile, but what makes you smile the most is the way Satan tries to hide his blush with his book as you guide him to lay his head in your lap. The grass patch the pair of you settle into is a great change of pace from spending time trapped in the tomb-like library that Satan’s bedroom had become, and it’s all too easy to accidentally end up spending the entire day there together.

✧   “This is nice,” you hum, running your hand through Satan’s silky blond hair, ruffling it gently like the breeze ruffles the greenery that surrounds you. “I can actually breathe.”

“But at what cost…” Satan mumbles with a half-baked attempt at sounding dissatisfied. He blows away a cute bug that had found its way onto his leather bound book, which flits away, catching your eye with the way the fading sunlight catches on its gossamer wings. You fully know that Satan enjoys the setting as much as you do, and you kiss his forehead as you chuckle.

The time you spend with him is wonderful in its tranquility. The both of you understand each other, and understand that not all time needs to be spent talking. You revel in the quiet moments where his unspoken love washes over you with the way he holds your hand, or gazes at you quietly with a loving softness before returning to what he had been doing before. You love the way he loves you. You love the way he blushes when you show him any kind of affection, as if unused to the vulnerability of receiving genuine outspoken love.

The gilded light falls perfectly on Satan’s face, making his pale lashes look almost delicate while the sun sets before you. The sun slowly dips behind the rolling hills, and Satan gasps softly as he watches the shades of red set the sky ablaze behind sparse mist-like clouds.

“I’ve read about plenty of sunsets… but there are no words in any language that could capture something like this.” Satan’s voice is full of an innocent kind of wonder as he speaks, one that you have rarely heard him express. The many kinds of happiness that Satan expresses daily, though seemingly real, are all nuanced masks that the cynical demon skilfully applies— but the adorable crinkles under his eyes and the shamelessly wide grin makes it obvious that this is genuine happiness. He notices your silence and reaches a hand up to caress your cheek. “What are you thinking about, ______?”

“Just how I want to be like this forever with you.” You lean into his touch and lean down to kiss him with a radiant smile that matches his.

Satan manages to laugh softly this time, relaxing into the soft displays of affection with you, though his faint blush refuses to fade. “I think I’d like that.”

♡ 𝘢𝘴𝘮𝘰𝘥𝘦𝘶𝘴

✧   Dates in the human world aren’t dates if they don’t include having dessert at the most stylish bistros in the city. Not to Asmodeus, at least, and you can understand. They might be expensive at times, but these cafes offer the best food for the both of you to feed each other over the table, and are perfect for a million different photo opportunities that help Asmodeus let everyone who follows him know that his life is so much better than theirs.

✧   Which is why you’re surprised to notice that not once has Asmo demanded your help in taking photos after the sun had begun to set. Through the wide windows of the bistro that you sit beside, the sunlight filters through in a mix of pale golds and pinks. It’s the perfect opportunity for yet another set of pictures, but Asmo just sits happily, chattering on and asking you questions about yourself while he sips his milkshake.

“But it’s so tacky, isn’t it! Like, stop involving yourself in drama and get a life!” Asmodeus huffs, and you could laugh at his hypocrisy.

“Ugh, you’re so cute.”

“I know.” Asmo winks and slides his hand over the one you rest on the table to gently hold it, resting his chin on his free hand as he gazes at the way the sunlight paints your skin in gorgeous crystalline shades. His amber eyes are akin to those of churchgoers that gaze up at stained glass depictions of the saints in their adoration. It makes you blush, the way he smiles at you like you are his entire world, and quietly takes in your beauty.

You laugh bashfully. “You feeling okay? You haven’t asked me to take pictures of you at all today.”

“We have all of eternity to keep taking pictures of me. I just wanted to focus on you today, ______.” Asmo’s voice softens as he says that, and he takes your hand to kiss your knuckles with complete devotion. “You’re beautiful.”

“Ah… you really think so?”

“I’ve never seen a sunset before, but as stunning as it is, it’s still nothing compared to you, love.” Asmo’s smile is as gentle as the warmth the sunlight makes you feel as it falls upon your skin, and the love he showers you with is so familiar in its all-encompassing glow. Despite his sin, you never have to fear not being enough for him. He reminds you of it in so many ways every single day, and it makes you blush and return his gentle smile. “I can’t believe you’re mine.”

You can’t believe it either, and it makes you laugh quietly as you pull him by the collar into a sweet kiss over the cafe table, tasting the sugary sweet strawberry milkshake on his lips. It’s so him, and every little thing about Asmo just makes you crazier for him.

♡ 𝘣𝘦𝘦𝘭𝘻𝘦𝘣𝘶𝘣

✧   The neon lights of the carnival are blinding, the laughter from having so much fun around your favourite person in the world making your stomach hurt, but you simply can’t stop. Especially not when Beelzebub carries you on his shoulders while running around the place and through the funhouses with childish glee. Your hands tangle themselves in his hair as you giggle and kiss his head, watching the sun slowly sink from the top of the world.

✧   Beel is trying to fix your hair at the end of it, sticking his tongue out in concentration while the both of you stand on the boardwalk, cooled by the seaside wind. It makes you giggle at him even more as you hold the cotton candy that you had bought to share.

“Where does your parting go again?” Beel mutters. “Left or right?”

“It’s fine, baby,” you chuckle, and tiptoe to kiss the tip of his tongue, resting your hand on his chest. It makes him give you a goofy smile around his tongue before he pulls it back in. You swear you feel your heart melt. “But thanks for trying.”

Under your hand, you feel Beel’s heart still wildly beating, and you’re not quite sure if it’s from the adrenaline of winning so many games and riding the rollercoasters, or if it’s from something else. You know that your heart is definitely still racing, but mostly because of the proximity between the both of you. The sun is setting past the horizon at this point, and you see it clearly slip halfway below the waves. The waves almost bleed crimson with the sky, and gold scatters across the waves as they crest over the horizon.

“______…” Beel’s voice is quiet in its awe. You feel his hand hold yours as he watches.

“Right?” You say, leaning into him. “It’s beautiful.”

“I’ve never seen anything like it.” He’s almost too distracted by the sight to take a nibble of the cotton candy, but of course he does, and you smile at his courtesy. He always saves some of his food to share with you no matter how hungry he can be. “It’s just like you… You’re so different from anyone I’ve ever met before. Special. And you’re really beautiful, too.”

“Even with my hair like this?” You can’t help but giggle some more. He always does this to you, makes you feel a lightness and a warmth that you’ve never felt before around anyone else.

Beel kisses your head, and then leans down to kiss you, smiling against your lips. You feel the sticky sugar of the cotton candy on his lips, and you can’t stop yourself from smiling into the kiss too.

“Even with your hair. No matter what you look like, I want to be yours.”

♡ 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘱𝘩𝘦𝘨𝘰𝘳

✧   You don’t know exactly what makes Belphegor visit you so much, considering the fact that he does the same thing in the human world that he does in the Devildom— sleep so much that he hardly pays attention to you.

✧   Complaining is easy, but you know that he can’t help it. Belphie tries to stay awake and do fun things with you when he can, and when he can’t, he’s always pulling you into bed so he can cuddle up with you and still dote on you in his own quiet way. You like that about him.

Belphie’s silky hair reflects the light that streams in through the windows, the faint orange and lilac hues dancing across him and casting shadows on the sheets, and you can’t help but press the softest kiss to his forehead.

“Wake up, Belphie,” you whisper. “Dinnertime.”

“Mm.” He shifts in the sheets and reluctantly opens his eyes with slow, sleepy blinks that make you want to shower him in all your love. Giving you a squeeze, he sighs and buries his face in your neck to hide from the light. With a bit of coaxing, you get him to sit up in bed with you, the both of you still swaddled in the comfortable covers as you lean into each other drowsily. Even in his sleepy state, you’re irresistible to Belphie. His hands wander slowly across your skin as he pulls you into him, the both of you quietly watching through the window as the sky turns brilliant shades of violet, the sun setting behind the buildings in the distance.

Belphie moves languidly. He rests his chin on your shoulder while mumbling, “Would you look at that.”

“It’s gorgeous, isn’t it?” you sigh. “You’d get to see stuff like this more often if we actually went out when you visit.”

“Mm, but why would I go out if I could keep you all to myself here in bed?” Belphie’s voice is accompanied by his chuckling, and you can’t help but blush and nudge him with your elbow.

“You sound so gross.”

“You love it. You love me.” Belphie laughs and finds your hand to hold underneath the covers, and he holds you as close as he possibly can, nuzzling his face into your neck once more. You feel him leave the softest kisses on your skin as he intertwines your fingers in his. “...I love you, ______.”

Complaining is easy, until you’re reminded of moments like these with him, where life is simply too perfect to be real.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 　　 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

[m-y-fandoms]

Vampire Nagito Komaeda x Ultimate Monster Hunter reader - Part 2 (Supernatural AU)

Part 1 

WARNINGS: Blood Drinking, Vampire Bites

Please excuse any grammar mistakes. I think I got most but I edited this at 5 A.M. ... I will go back over it and scan for errors soon.

- Admin Kokichi

     Hours passed since your unfortunate encounter, and your heart and mind had finally shaken off the creeps. After finishing your little self-guided tour of campus, you headed to the Main Course dorms to find your room. Your luggage was arranged to come later that evening, but you wanted to see the dorms for yourself now with little else to do. 

      Once you shut the door, the warmth of the sunlight gave way to a wave of the best air conditioning money could buy. The place looked very clean and tidy, with nothing out of place save for a few displaced balls and plastic cups atop a pool table and what appeared to be forgotten lecture notes on a shelf above a central fireplace. This must be the common area, a lounge for the most deserving students in the world!

     Behind the fireplace on either side were two sets of pretentious-looking stairs that led up to what you assumed were the actual dorm rooms. You searched your pocket for your student key card. You flipped it around over and over again in your hand, searching.

     “What?” You weren’t going crazy, were you? Neither floor nor room number were indicated on your card. You pulled your phone out, quickly sifting through emails and texts. Nope. Nowhere, at any point, had the housing department told you exactly what room was yours. Way to drop the ball, Kirigiri… you sighed, finding this situation both a bit humorous and exasperating considering the status of the school.

     Well, you were a last minute transfer. There were bound to be slip-ups.

     Sighing, you resigned to sit, relax for a few minutes, then call the housing department, or simply walk over to the main office building if it was still open.

      "Maybe I'll just..." you decided you'd earned the two minute break and walked leisurely over to one of the beige leather seats. Sitting, you set your chin into your hand propped up by your elbow on the arm of the chair, and began to think of how much you missed your tools. School regulations didn’t allow poisons, crossbows, guns and silver bullets inside the dorms... for obvious reasons. Even students of the blade or other offensive disciplines had to keep all sharp and lethal objects in their practice rooms and out of the dorms (not that all of them followed these rules). Students were allowed to customize and adjust their uniforms according to their talent, but you couldn’t even do that, what with all of the tools of your trade being lethal or unexplainable to the ignorant masses.

     It felt weird, not having a wooden stake strapped to your ankle, not having wolfsbane hidden away in a compartment on your belt. You felt out of place, without knives and rune-inlaid whips hidden on your person... uncomfortable. This school really wasn’t for you.

     "Ah, it’s you!" A voice came from behind.

     "Huh?" You gasped, flying up from your seat, thoroughly startled. Your knee banged off of the coffee table in front of it, leaving you feeling like an absolute buffoon. Your hand instantly flew to your leg, and you hissed softly in pain.

     “Whoops! Didn’t mean to startle you, sorry!”

     Your eyes followed the voice all the way up the stairs to its owner. Nagito was scrambling down the stairs toward you apologetically, feeling responsible for your blunder. He reached his hands out as of to offer you his aid, but froze upon seeing you take a step backward. He stopped directly in front of you, clearing his throat before continuing.

     “What are you doing here? You don’t have to start classes yet?” You stared into his eyes, and a tremble ran up your spine. The greenish-grey, glistening spheres appeared icy and far away. “Well?" When you didn't respond, he spoke up again.

     "I uh... um..."

     "You have a way with words, I see, just like when we met earlier today." He teased, laughing warmly. He had one of those genuine smiles, where the eyes exude friendliness just as much as the mouth, and their misty shine entranced you deeply. He laughed again, a bit awkwardly as you merely gawked at him. A light blush formed on his cheeks and he swept some of his cloud-like hair away from his forehead. He held the eye contact, though, searching your mind for something, anything to tell him more about you. You felt a stinging begin, like a migraine forming in the depths of your brain.

      You shook your head roughly, tearing your eyes away from his gaze. How could you have fallen for that one? 

     Vampires could very easily compel the mortal mind, put one in a mind-hazing trance with direct eye contact alone. Being the offspring of one of the best hunters ever born, you were trained to notice when the bloodsuckers made their attempts to ensnare your mind or read it like a book. That headache was your warning sign, the last defense of a disciplined mind, but it shouldn’t have even of gotten that far. 

     You were slipping… why did this vampire feel… different?

     More importantly, you forced your mind to change the subject, how long had he been trancing other students? Was he doing this on purpose? Some vampires simply forgot their own strengths at times. Did Kirigiri know? Is this dangerous creature simply going around unchecked... doing whatever the hell he likes?!

     He coughed, his eyebrows furrowing with a sudden seriousness. He’d been searching your mind, looking around desperately for a clue, a story, a hint, and just as soon as he thought he’d found an interesting page to start reading, the book was snapped close in front of him. He was pushed out in an effort that seemed practiced, skillful. You saw the discontent lining his features, and decided you needed you stop this. You two needed to be on the same page, before he tried anything else on you; something stupid, or more bold. You couldn’t keep up this charade any longer. You had a feeling he was feeling the same way.

     "Stop that.” You spoke sternly, concisely, confidently. He needed to know not to try that shit again, that you would not simply be prey like others, not mentally nor physically. His mouth formed a smirk, one of relief and something like acknowledging the other player in a game.

     “Ahh~ so I see that I was correct after all. Are we done playing pretend now? Awww, I was actually having a lot of fun! It was quite stimulating, actually.” He frowned, pouting like a child called home at dusk after playing outside all day.

     “I’m afraid so. Sorry to disappoint you,” you crossed your arms over your chest defiantly,” and I don’t appreciate my mind being picked and prodded at. That’s extremely disrespectful, you know? That’s none of your business. If you’re doing that to people on the regular around campus, I will inform the headmaster.” You held a finger out, poking his chest firmly and with aplomb, and he only smiled in response, finding this attempt to intimidate him rather adorable. He held in a giggle behind his hand, not wanting to anger you. “Am I amusing to you?” You threw him a cross look, and he held his hands up in surrender.

     “No, of course not! I was just thinking, well... how do you know? About me, I mean?”

     You face went blank. You weren’t expecting this question, though you probably should have been. There was no possible way to answer this honestly. What were you supposed to say? The headmaster forbade you from telling anyone of your true talent. Disregarding that point, what would this vampire do to you once he found out you were one of those sworn to kill his kind? You didn’t have any means of defending yourself at present. You couldn’t outrun him, or fight back with raw strength. He couldn’t do anything right? He wouldn’t… if he were that brash, there’s no way Kirigiri would’ve let him enroll here in the first place. He has to be on excellent behavior to attend Hope’s Peak, right?

     You blinked once, twice. He was waiting for a response, staring patiently. You needed a response, and quickly.

     “W-what are you doing here?” Nice. Perfect.

     “Huh?” His head tilted, taken aback by the curveball you threw his way.

     “W-well you asked what I’m doing here, and you’re right, if I were starting classes today, I would be in one right now. We have the same core classes outside of the individualized training of our talent specialization. I saw the class rosters and schedules! I know you should be in class right now as well!” You were getting louder with every word, feeling very cornered and vulnerable at the moment. If you had just even one weapon on you… just one…

     “Well, uh…” now you had him. You smirked, feeling pretty clever at the moment. “I forgot my books... just my luck haha,” he countered, “So I came back to my room to get them!”

     “Then where are they?” And sure enough, he had nothing on him but the clothes on his back.

     “Hmm… well I came through the second floor entrance,” he gestured over his back “...and I was about to head to my room but I got uhhh… distracted I guess you could say. I really am hopeless.” There was that big, dumb, goofy grin again. Your mind took a second, but then it clicked.

     “...You smelled me…” you spoke slowly, cautiously.

      “Uh… I guess yeah. You could say that. Well that’s exactly what happened, really. I suppose I am glad we ended our little farce! Would’ve been hard to explain that one...” his index finger reached up, scratching at the side of his mouth pensively.

     “You really are a creep!”

     “Yeah, I’m the worst, I know...” Why was he smiling while saying this? “I’m sorry, again. Usually, it’s not like this. Of course I admire our talented peers and am drawn to them as they are pinnacles of hope and the building blocks of the future, but...” he pantomimed through the air grandly, “ I am very conditioned to the human scent. It doesn’t usually alert me nowadays. I dunno… guess the... tantalizing smell of a particularly interesting human was enough to… stir me.” He smirked almost tauntingly. Your eyes widened, but narrowed again immediately. You would not show him weakness. 

     “Stop that.” You scowled.

     “Apologies, (Y/N). Just speaking my mind. I don’t mean to make you uncomfortable. I’m just sort of a disgusting waste of space.” Your scowl melted into a sort of sympathetic frown despite yourself. Did he really mean that? Why would he say that about himself? Vampires were usually more vain on the spectrum of supernatural beings. “I just hold Main Course students in really high esteem, and you’re no exception... actually, far from it. Ever since I met you this morning, you’ve been on my mind more then most mortals… strange...” he seemed lost in his own little world. What? What the hell was going on in his crazy little head? The silence caught his attention, and he seemed to remember you were there as well, looking into your eyes again. He caught himself, making sure to not to make such direct eye contact with you. When he was in these weird moods, he never could quite control his more passive abilities and instincts. “Anyway... yeah, it’s unfortunate that I’m going to be missing part of class now… not that I don’t enjoy the pleasant surprise! I knew there was something special about you right off the bat!" Would he still think that after he knew your true calling? You looked to your right, thankful for the large staircase to escape to. He was giving you unsettling vibes once again. 

     Supernatural beings were known to imprint easily on mortals. Some saw them as beautiful, perplexing, ethereal in their impermanence. Some killed and ate them just because devouring humans, or torturing them until the panicked aura of their tiny, weak souls radiated around the room and feeling that temporary fragility, that adrenaline, was the only way they themselves could feel human. This urge to feel close to humanity was only doubled, dangerously so, in supernaturals who were once human themselves. It was an insatiable need to return to that normalcy, that frailty. 

     Swiftly, you scampered over to the bottom step to put some distance between you and the increasingly imposing immortal before you.

     "Ah, I see. Well, anyway, thanks I suppose. I uh..." you grinned clumsily. “I was just looking for my room, albeit unsuccessfully. You can go ahead and get your books now! I don’t want to hold you up any longer!”

      "I can help! It’s no big deal. The way they get students moved in here can sometimes be confusing. Actually, they put your room number on the student portal, not your card or paperwork, heh! And they don’t even tell you, leave you to find out yourself!” He pulled a large, black rectangle from his pocket, crossing the distance to wave it in front of you like a treat.

     What the...? You patted down your shirt and bottoms alike.

     “Is that my phone? How the hell-?!”

     “Ah, yeah, sorry about that! I swiped it from you when I first came downstairs! I thought it’d help me get to know you better, had you not been willing to divulge the knowledge you have of my kind’s existence.” Once again he was calm, cool and casual whilst in the midst of saying such unusual words. What was this guy’s deal? “Here, you can have it back!”

     “Yeah, I should hope so!” You reached out to snatch your phone from his hand, and it was like time froze.

     The moment your fingertips touched his own in the exchange, your indignant eyes met his, and saw something feral flicker in them. The phone switched hands, and a spark of sorts traveled through your skin and into his. As you pulled back, his hand shot out, taking a tight grip around your wrist.

     Your cheeks warmed up, at once flustered when the atmosphere changed drastically. Your eyes dilated in panic and his lips moved forward, resting upon your hand. He seemed to tense up, a rigidness taking up his entire body. His closed eyes opened wide to match your own and he inhaled deeply of the skin of your knuckles. You pulled away quickly, spooked.

     "S-something wrong? Why are you so weird? I’ve never met any of your kind quite like you." You rubbed your hand curiously.

     “So, you’ve met others?” It was clear he was trying to hold back something deep inside of him that begged to crawl out, his eye twitching slightly.

     “Answer my question.”

     "No, of course not... you just smell... nice, as I said before." He looked away from you, hand extending to guide you upstairs and in the right direction, but your brain was telling you not to go anywhere with him in tow.

     “I- I can find my way myself, but thanks!” You began logging into the Hope’s Peak student portal through your phone’s browser, and quickly looking through your profile to find your room code and number.

     “I insist!” He followed you up the stairs, trailing after your scent like a starved hound. Why couldn't he just get lost? Your thoughts raced anxiously. If you’d had your equipment on you, he would’ve been long dead. He was exhausting, and he didn't feel… safe. “Found it?” he inquired over your shoulder. As you reached the top of the steps, you began to feel your blood boil, but you knew not the true cause of this involuntary reaction.

     Your last little exchange left you feeling foolish and naive. How could you have let a vampire get that close? Why would you let him indulge in the scent of you knowing how easy it was for them to take advantage of humans? You were royally pissed off, and looking for a way to expel that rage, to hurt someone or something the way you were hurting inside.

     “I know you’re a vampire because I kill them. My whole family does. It’s essential to be able to identify one in my line of work. I’d be a pretty shitty hunter if I couldn’t do even that, and you aren’t exactly good at hiding it.” You found your door, swiping your keycard into the extremely sleek, high-tech lock system, and forcing it open a bit too harshly. The frustration you tried to hide in your voice was evident in your actions. Nagito halted, stilled stiff by your suddenly bitter words.

     “Ah,” he cleared his throat, also hiding emotions of his own, “The Ultimate Hunter... it makes sense now.” He recalled seeing your title along with your name on his own school portal. How did he miss that one?

     “Yeah, so maybe you should get lost.” Heartlessly, you began to close the door on him, now fully inside the spacey room that was bare save for a luxurious bed and some basic, modern furniture. “Hn?” A soft gasp left your throat when a polished shoe wedged itself inside the door, stopping you. You looked up, your body filling the crack in the door, and met Nagito’s eyes. There was that far away look again. His eyes were cloudy, tameless, wild.

     “Why must you be so harsh?” His eyes bore into your own now, all inflection and kindness gone from his tone. “I understand you must hate my kind, and now I can appreciate why you reacted so aversely to my voice, my touch, my presence before, but have I done anything to harm you?” You were beginning to get scared now, reaching instinctively for your belt and finding it absent from your pristine uniform.

     “I think you should leave. We obviously aren’t meant to be acquaintances.” You refused to let your voice shake. This might be a turning point, a critical moment. Vampires were never so dangerous as when they knew their prey was afraid.

     “It’s your turn to answer me, now~” Nagito forced himself in the doorway nonchalantly, approaching your slowly retreating form into the middle of your room. You backed away, with him meeting every step.

     “If you must know, you have offended me, yes. Trying to read my mind-”

     “An accident.”

     “Stealing my phone-”

     “A precaution.”

     “Smelling my blood like a pervert, twice!” He smirked.

     “A natural, harmless instinct.” 

     “Even so...” Your eyes were on his own, obviously not focused on his body, and he took this opportunity to reach down, grasping lightly at your hand once again.

     “Even so, what? Those are all petty misunderstandings. Ahhh~” his cold, pointed nose skimmed across the back of your hand once again as he brought it to his face. This time, when you tried to pull away, he held fast, and warning signals flashed in your mind. “Just as I thought! Your scent appeals to me so because you are a shining beacon of hope! I see it now! It’s all coming to me! You protect the world from those of my kind who would seek to destroy it! How wonderful!” His cheek bumped across your knuckles, and you failed once again to pull away.

     “N-Nagito. Stop. This is.... you must consider context. If we weren’t in school right now, if we were just on the street meeting like this-”

     “You wouldn’t do anything~ because I’m allied and protected~” He sung, his eyes twitching again, lids fluttering softly. Your heart dropped into your stomach. He was right. 

     You were trying to resist, but he was making it so damn hard. It shouldn’t be this hard. You found supernatural beings repulsive. Your father did as well. And his father did! They weren’t trustworthy. Their words were always the lies of a wolf in sheep’s clothing. They could charm and glamour weaker mortals with ease and enjoyed it! And you certainly were not a weaker mortal! You found joy in killing them... didn’t you?

     “What you’re doing now is-”

     “It’s strange, hah~ so strange~ I haven’t felt this inspired, this jittery about a mortal in such a long time... haha~ this excitement! I knew it! I knew you were special! You’re the true hope I’ve been looking for! The Ultimate of all Ultimates that will guide our classmates into their roles as the protectors and leaders that will inherit this earth!” He was manic now, inhaling deeply, raggedly onto your skin. One hand crushed your wrist into his own chest, the other held your hand so that it stayed splayed out flat for his access. There was something primal in his eyes. He was quickly becoming unstable. It was a perilous state so common to his kind, but yet it felt still so incredibly unique to Nagito himself, like it was not his immortality but his own character that caused this sudden shift in behavior.

     “Nagito! You sound like a lunatic! Let go, you’re hurting me!” Tears threatened to fall from your eyes. You were strong, usually able to ignore some measure of physical pain, but the way his fingers dug into your wrist coupled with the consternation you felt at the situation set your nerves aflame. Once again you reached instinctively for a weapon or poison you did not have.

     “Am I? I’m sorry. It’s just... I wonder...” You didn’t like where this was going at all. His chest shook with arousal , a bit of drool dripping from the fangs now on display in his mouth, which hung open in his state of reverie. “I wonder what this this hope tastes like... this pure, concentrated source of unbridled hope!” His voice shook, and you pushed at his chest with your free hand. He didn’t budge an inch. It was like he didn’t even notice your actions. “I know I’m unworthy, that a piece of trash like me doesn’t deserve to taste you... but I feel like now that I’m this close, haha~ I can’t stop myself! Truly, truly it’s a grand misfortune that a talentless, meaningless, soulless abomination like myself even dares to take part in such a feast! But...” He lowered his lips to your wrist.

     “Nagito, stop! You can’t do this!” You began to kick and struggle, to scratch and tear at his clothes, to claw at any exposed skin, leaving marks across his cheek and arms. “If you do this, you’ll lose your protection!” His top lip pulled back, something like a snarl emanating from his throat. Clearly that approach wouldn’t work. “You’ll be expelled!” You tried the next deterrent on your mind. Wow, you must’ve been the worst Super High-School Level Monster Hunter in history. Day 1: fooled into a vampire’s clutches. His inhumanely sharp canines grazed the skin of your wrist, feeling your pulse race beneath the surface. He was entranced; there was no stopping this now. A human, without weapons, without enchantments or defenses, without repellants, bombs, herbs, poisons, silver, or means of healing, was no match for a supernatural being. “Please! Please, you- don’t do this!” a last effort. Why did you even try? These savages never sympathized with begging and pleading. They were killers. You were an imbecile to let your guard down around Komaeda for even a second.

     His fangs sunk deeply into your skin, piercing a vein. You yelped out in pain, pulling at his hair and tugging your wrist back, which only nestled his fangs in deeper. You whimpered, little rivulets of your vital fluid running out of his mouth and down to your elbow. He was moaning in delirium, enraptured in the sensation of your blood running down his throat. You wanted to yell, to scream for help, but something inside you was hesitant and holding you back. Something inside you didn’t want anyone to find out about this, to find you two like this.

     “Mmmh~” Nagito’s tongue swirled around the puncture wounds, his lips latched on like a leech. He drank freely, deeply, seemingly careless of how much blood he was taking. It’d been a long time since he’d felt the exhilaration of feeding from true prey. These days they had him on willing donors and blood bags. Nothing compared to the flavor of adrenaline and fear in the bloodstream, no matter how much he hated himself for indulging in it.

     “Naaagi-t-” You stumbled backwards a step, wishing so desperately that you weren’t such an obedient student, that you’d deemed it justified to slip a stake, a knife, anything under your shirt. Your punches, your willful attacks on his abdomen, and the kicks to his knees began to slow down. They were losing the fight behind them, and yet, you would not give up. “St-tt-oo-” He continued to slurp and suck at your wrist, taking no note of the way you slowly were slipping to your knees. 

     The corners of your vision began to cloud and darken. Your head was ringing, much like a time you’d been left concussed after one of your first hunts. This might as well have been one of your first encounters with the supernatural world, with how badly you’d blundered every step.

     Now on your knees, your head hanging limply down into your chest with your arm raised and pulled taut, trailing up to the vampire’s mouth, you felt yourself slipping. Finally, your vision began to fade for the last time, and you fell unconscious. The last thing your mind registered was the sound of Nagito sighing blissfully as he finally detached from your flesh, followed by the sound of frenzied laughter.

[xmint-conditionx]

☆ flanked ☆ ch2 | knj

(verb) flank -

guard or strengthen (a military force or position) from the side.

attack down or from the sides, or rake with gunfire from the sides.

☆ pairing: soldier!namjoon x widow!reader; namjoon x fem!reader ☆ word count: 3.1K ☆ summary: you’re a recently widowed military spouse who is stationed at camp walker, south korea. you’re dealing with the tragedy of your husband’s recent death, and in the process, you accidentally meet a k-pop idol you’ve had a crush on for years. who knew you’d both be at the same post while he’s doing his compulsory service? who knew he’d be so damn nice? who knew it would be impossible to get him out of your head? ☆ warnings: angst, mentions of death, grieving, lots of fluff in this chapter tbh and you might die because dork namjoon has come to the party ☆ a/n: hey everyone c: sorry this repost is a little late; i've been sick the past two days and holed up in bed for the last one. i'm so excited to release this for you and start on the next chapter.

It is 6:05 in the morning, and you are awake. Not wide awake, but awake. You can’t believe you let Namjoon convince you to get up this early, because frankly, nobody has ever convinced you to get up this early. When he said that you’d have to get there first thing in the morning so you can see everything, you really didn’t think he would mean you’d have to get there at 7 AM. It’s always been your philosophy that it’s wrong to wake up before the sun, and you’re finding that getting out of bed in your pitch black room isn’t easy. You’re gonna have to make sure to clarify everything that man says in the future. Ugh, military men, you think.

You groan, muscles stiff as you finally manage to get yourself out of bed.

Bananas is obviously not getting the memo, the only sign of him being his fluffy tail poking out from under the covers. He’s never been into early mornings either.

Namjoon sent you a text yesterday and told you that the exhibit that he really wants to show you requires tickets. He then told you that because they only sell 100 tickets per day on a first come first serve basis; getting in line any later than 7 AM would surely be entirely too late, apparently. The Daegu Art Museum opens at 10, tickets go on sale at 9:30, yet you need to be in line no later than 7? Sure.

He seemed really excited about the exhibit, though, saying that Yayoi Kusama, whoever that person was, was a genius. So… you couldn’t exactly turn him down. Her works were deep and breathtaking and spoke so much about life, according to Namjoon. He had promised it would be worth it, and you thought about that promise as you groggily did your morning routine. Yeah, you thought, it had better be. If only he hadn’t sent too many pleading-eye emojis.

You grabbed your over the shoulder bag and gave Bananas a good belly rub before heading outside.

Despite being almost non-functional this early in the morning, you beat Namjoon to the museum. Gawking at the massive modern building, you walk up to the front doors, where a decent line has already formed. Okay, maybe he was right.

You find yourself a place at the back of the line and just as you reach in your bag to grab your phone to text him, you see Namjoon walking in your direction, long legs making short work of catching up to you. You catch his eyes lingering on your bare legs as he approaches, and for just a moment, you’re glad you chose to wear this skirt.

“Morning, Namjoon,” you groan, leaning up against the museum’s outer wall. More people start filing in line after you, and you’re thankful Namjoon wasn’t too late. “I guess you were right. Look at all these people.”

“Morning, peach,” he says with another one of his dimpled grins, “Glad it’s warming up out? It’s supposed to hit 20 degrees today.”

“Okay, it is entirely too early for you to be this happy,” you say, voice groggy. Namjoon just shrugs.

“Guess I’m just excited.”

You look around the small crowd that has formed and notice that a lot of the people are sitting up against the wall while they wait. You decide to do the same.

“I am too, trust me,” you say, back resting against the cool stone, “I’m just not usually up this early.”

“I see. Maybe conversation can keep you awake. Are there any other places in Daegu you want to see?” Namjoon inquires.

“Well, there is that aquarium I keep hearing about. One of my coworkers on post says that there are mermaids that do a little performance with the fish.”

“Oh! I know which one you’re talking about! I’ve actually been there a few times. I love it there! Fish are so cool.”

“Before I went into veterinary science,” you say, “I was originally planning on being a marine biologist.”

“You’re a vet? I didn’t know that! No wonder Bananas looks like such a happy pup!”

“Yeah,” you say, letting your head fall back, “he really is. But, I really want to go check it out. It’s been a long time since I’ve been to an aquarium.”

“The mermaid performers swim around with a bunch of stingrays. Stingrays are actually not that dangerous, especially if they have the barbs removed from their tails.”

You feel your eyes growing heavy.

“Wow, I didn’t know that.”

“A lot of people think they’re really dangerous because Steve Irwin died from a sting from a stingray, but his injury was a result of the barb piercing his thoracic wall. Most stingray injuries are actually very mild.”

“That’s interesting,” you say quietly, eyes fluttering closed.

“Some people think that cutting down their barbs is abuse, but it’s like cutting off a fingernail to humans. They don’t feel it at all and it grows back over time.”

“Mhmmmmm,” you say as you feel yourself slipping back into sleep.

“It’s the touch tanks that can be a little problematic,” Namjoon continues, oblivious, “Stingrays have a type of mucus that covers their body that protects them from bacteria. If that gets rubbed off, they become vulnerable. A lot of zoos and aquariums are taking plenty of precautionary measures though, like making sure the guests wash their hands before and after they experience the touch tank. In fact, I think that given the proper precautions, touch tanks…”

______________

The warmth next to you feels like home, and threatens to pull you back to sleep. You feel yourself holding onto something... firm and yet so soft, but it’s comforting, so you tighten your grip and nuzzle further in. You then feel a gentle breeze run across your legs and wonder where your blankets have gone. Bananas has probably hogged them all. You breathe in and smell laundry detergent, a little musk and… men’s deodorant? There’s the quiet chatter of birdsong, and an unmistakable trickle of water, and you instantly remember where you are.

Your eyes snap open to find yourself snuggled up to Namjoon, arms hooked around his bicep and cheek against his shoulder. He seems un-bothered by your lack of respect for his personal space; he doesn’t even look up from his book. Like it’s the most natural thing for you to be attached to him like this. Embarrassed, you quickly distance yourself from him and apologize profusely while he just chuckles a bit. He puts his bookmark in to keep his place and turns towards you as you blink yourself awake, tasting the dryness in your mouth. Oh god, you must have had your mouth open.

“It’s fine, peach. I didn’t even realize you were asleep until you started snoring.”

You gasp. “I did not!”

“Oh, you did,” he says, eyeing you playfully, “It was only a little though. And it was really quiet. Kind of cute, actually.” You play hit him in the arm that you had just been latched on to.

“Hey, don’t be mad at me. I bought your ticket!”

“You what?! What time is it?” you ask, scrambling to look at your phone. It was 5 minutes until open. “Namjoon, why didn’t you wake me up?”

“I was going to, but you were sleeping so hard...”

“Well, at least that means I wasn’t all over you this entire time.”

“Oh, no," he says, "you were.”

You groan. “How did you get up and buy the tickets then without me knowing?”

“A man has to have some secrets, you know. Come on, let’s go look at some art.”

The inside of the Daegu Art Museum is stunning. The lobby is bright and open; the sunlight pours into that first room through the large windows, casting a lovely morning light on all of the bright and cheery visitors. Some of the larger pieces are displayed in this grand lobby, some towering ten of feet above you.

“Namjoon, this is beautiful.”

“Just you wait, Come on, first we’ll do classical, then lunch, then modern art. The best one we’ll save for last.”

Classical art wasn’t your favorite, but Namjoon got absorbed in just about every piece. When he saw one that really grabbed his attention, he would sit there gawking at it, mouth open as he read from the little plaque next to it. The way his eyes filled with wonder and widened with discovery at the newly rotated paintings was absolutely adorable. He almost had this child-like wonder about him, eagerly looking back and forth from the plaque to the painting and back again. You almost enjoyed studying Namjoon instead of the art.

You let him take the lead, showing you some of his favorite pieces as you navigate through the galleries. He is definitely in his element here. After he finishes his embellished tour of the classical works, you both decide it would be a good time to break for lunch. The museum has a little cafe, so Namjoon takes care of waiting for your orders while you are tasked with finding a nice spot to spread your blanket outside on the grounds. You see a spot beneath a tree offering up a little shade, so you spread the blanket over the soft grass and take your place, closing your eyes and breathing in the fresh air. Namjoon soon arrives with your food, and settles down next to you.

Before you start to eat, you remove your cardigan, exposing your chest and arms to the air, hoping to enjoy some of the new warmth in Daegu. You hear Namjoon take a sharp inhale, and thinking something’s wrong, you quickly look over at him. He’s got his eyes trained on you, and he swallows hard before he realizes you’re looking at him. He jerks his gaze away, finds something else to look at and shakes his head, as if to clear it. Was he… checking you out?

“Sorry, I thought I uh…” he trails off, “thought I saw a bug. It was, uh, just a shadow.”

“Uh, thanks for uh, looking out,” you say, before a thought strikes you, “Hey, Namjoon. I brought my painting stuff with me today. I was hoping to paint a little while we eat, is that okay? I don’t want to be bad company.”

He perks up, “Oh, yeah, sure. I can just keep reading my book. Hypervelocity stars aren’t going to learn about themselves!”

You set about getting out your watercolor palette, planning on using some of your bottled water to wet your paints. For some reason, you glance back over at Namjoon. He’s sitting with his back against the tree, legs crossed at the ankles, book in one hand, and bao in the other. His eyebrows are slightly furrowed together in concentration, and he lazily takes a bite, not even looking at the bao bun. You hold back a giggle when you see he got some sauce on his mouth. You can’t help but point it out by getting his attention and tapping your own bottom lip. Namjoon studies you for a minute, and slowly licks his bottom lip, almost too slowly. Before you can register what he had just done, he just smiles at you innocently and goes back to reading his book.

This man is going to kill you, so he might as well be the subject for your art. The way he’s positioned himself is just too adorable to ignore.

After getting the basic shape of his outline done and halfway through the details in his face, he stirs from his place under the tree. You watch him as he places his book down carefully on the blanket and walks toward your back, steps ever so gentle. You turn your head and see a little bird hopping around on the grass, and Namjoon is after it. He breaks off a piece of bread from his second bao and extends it towards the bird, who eyes him suspiciously. To your surprise though, it hops forward and takes the bread, chirping up at Namjoon. He goes to sit cross legged on the ground, but doing so ends up startling the bird, who then flies a short distance away on the lawn. Namjoon sulks and pouts a little before getting up and walking after the bird. This is the craziest thing you have ever seen. You love animals so much that you’ve dedicated your career to helping them stay healthy, but this is on a whole other level.

You go back to refining your art, throwing some color into the sky and on the tree, seeing as your main subject has wandered off.

You’re startled when he comes back from behind you.

“How’s the art coming?” he asks, looking over your shoulder at your book, “Hey! Is that me?!”

“Well, it was going to be until you started playing Snow White.”

“Yeah…” he says, looking down at what’s left of his sandwich, “the little guy ate all my bread.”

You laugh a little at him as he frowns at the char siu pork filling barely being contained by the thinnest bun dough you’ve ever seen. Widening his eyes, he downs the rest of the bao bun in one bite.

“Dind youh whanna fhinish youhr phaintingh?” he says, covering his full mouth as he speaks.

“I can finish it some other time. Let’s go see the modern stuff before I want another nap.”

Stepping into the large room that houses the modern art, you take in a sharp breath with how absolutely full it is. Sculptures, paintings, installations; and in the back of the room is a line leading to a small door. You don’t know where to look first, so thankfully your personal tour guide is there to show you the way.

You’re reading the plaque on a minimalistic piece when Namjoon comes and grabs your wrist, excitedly ushering you to follow him. He leads you to the other side of the room where he stops in front of a section of blank wall, gesturing for you to look at it. You sit there and wonder what in the world he could be talking about when you see it. A piece of bright pink gum is stuck to the pristine white wall.

“This wasn't here last time!” he exclaims in a whisper. “I can’t believe this.”

“Yeah, kinda sucks that someone did that.”

“No, you don’t get it. This is an installation.”

“... are you sure about that?”

“Yeah! Look, it's about how such a simple thing can ruin something so large. Like finding a fly in your chardonnay, or there being a hair in your food, or one small imperfection in a person ruining your whole view of them.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s actual trash, Namjoon.”

“Of course it’s actual trash. I don’t think the artist could have gotten the point across without using actual chewing gum. It says so much. It might also be depicting the actual process of tainting something too! Like, how long did the artist chew the gum before they stuck it there? How much time and effort did it take them to ruin this whole wall with their gum? Where’s the plaque?”

As Namjoon searches the nearby walls for a plaque, a janitor comes by and scrapes off the gum, smiling gently at the both of you. You send Namjoon a pointed look, one that’s screaming “I told you so,” and then you both start laughing, having to hold back most of the sound in the quiet of the viewing space.

“Okay, last but not least. You ready?” The two of you were next in line to enter that small door you had seen at the back of the room when you first entered. The lady taking the tickets had already informed you that you would have five minutes once the door shut. You still had no idea what to expect.

“Yeah, I guess I had better be.” The door opened, letting out the museum goer who had just been in there.

Namjoon leaned up to your ear from behind and gently said, “Close your eyes.”

You were about to protest when he continued speaking, placing his hands on your shoulders, “I’ll walk you in there and tell you when to open. Trust me?”

You answered him by letting your lids drop. You felt him guide you by your shoulders as you walked gently forward and then to the right. You could tell that the floor texture had changed from the concrete you’d been walking on all day to something more plastic. You heard the door softly click shut behind you.

“Open,” he commanded softly, and you complied.

You could not make sense out of what you were seeing. The view went on forever, but you could tell that the actual room was so very small. Directly in front of you and on all sides were mirrors, infinitely reflecting off of themselves into the horizon. You were both completely surrounded by them. Scattered around the part of the room that wasn’t the black platform that you were standing on were delicate fairy lights in a cool white tone. It felt like you were floating in a void, so endless and empty. There were specks of brightness, but they did nothing to change the darkness enveloping you. Though it felt infinite, there was a nagging sense of being trapped. Surrounded on all sides. It was beautiful and terrifying to look at. Consumed by everything and nothing. You forgot Namjoon was there until he spoke quietly against your ear.

“This is what I think grief looks like. If it could take a physical form, this would be it.”

He’s right. He’s so right. You’re being swallowed by emptiness. You both are.

You both stand there in silence for the next few minutes, Namjoon’s warmth radiating onto your back, his hands still on your shoulders. Occasionally, his breath would brush against the nape of your neck.

“You really get it, don’t you?” you ask quietly.

“I can’t say I understand what it’s like to lose a spouse, peach. But I understand grief in my own way. I know this sounds crazy, because I don’t believe in any higher power, but I think we were supposed to meet each other.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean... “ he starts, “I just feel better when I’m around you. I feel like a… better person. You don’t treat me like... “ he stops himself.

“Like what, Namjoon?”

“You don’t treat me like other people do. In a lot of ways. That’s... the easiest way to say it.”

You just nod, wanting to soak up these last few moments in this room with him. In this dark space, it’s not so scary to get close. You allow yourself to lean back into him, and he stiffens up for a moment before circling his arms around you.

“We’re gonna get through all of this together,” he says against your ear, “I promise. Together.”

[queenxxxsupreme]

I've got an idea for a fluffy prompt! The reader is an artist and loves to make sketches of everyone at Kaer Morhen. At some point during the winter, Lambert gets jealous because he notices everyone else has been gifted a sketch except him. As it turns out, he has been the reader's main subject the entire time, but they decided to keep quiet about it since they have a huge crush on him and weren't quite ready to be vulnerable. It's okay if don't end up writing it. I just wanted to contribute :)

A/N: Oh babe this is so soft and sweet!!!

***

You moved through the keep, your sketchbook tucked carefully underneath your arm. In your hand, you held a piece of parchment. 

You spotted Eskel and Lambert sitting at the table closest to the fire. There were a few different books open on the table. From the quick glance you had of the words on the parchment, you could tell they were bestiaries.

“Hi, Eskel!” You chirped. 

Both witchers lifted their heads to look at you. Your eyes very briefly met with Lambert’s. But you quickly looked away. 

“Good evening, Y/N.” Eskel said. 

“I just finished a little something up.” You handed him the parchment, then moved your sketchbook around so you held it to your chest. 

The drawing on the parchment was of Lil Bleater in a field of wildflowers. A smile came to Eskel’s face. 

“This is amazing, Y/N. Thank-,”

Lambert stood up suddenly, his chair screeching against the floor. You jumped, your grip on the book tightening. You watched the young witcher storm out of the room without so much as a goodbye or even a glance in your direction.

Eskel sighed, setting the parchment down on the table beside him. 

“Did…. Did I do something, Eskel?” You asked, turning your head to look at the door Lambert had disappeared through.

The witcher didn’t answer you immediately.

“Lambert is a complicated man, Y/N.”

That didn’t really offer you an answer. 

You nodded and excused yourself, wanting to go off in search of him. You couldn’t help but feel that maybe you did something wrong. He didn’t storm off until after you entered the room. 

Your stomach churned at the thought of having done something to piss him off. 

***

You spent hours searching for him, but it proved useless. He knew all the best hideaways in the keep. If he didn’t want to be found, there would be no finding him. 

As you passed the library, you spotted Vesemir fixing a bookshelf. 

“Hello, Vesemir.” You stepped into the room. 

“Greetings, Y/N.” He didn’t look away from his project. You stood there for a few moments, looking around the room. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“I’m…. I’m looking for Lambert. Have you seen him?”

“Passed through not too long ago. Said he was going to go to the lake.”

“Thank you, Vesemir.”

***

You gently pulled on the reins to your horse, bringing her to a stop just before the trail opened up at the little hut on the lake. You listened, eyes carefully looking around to make sure there were no signs of danger. When you were positive there were no threats, you slipped down from your horse. 

Lambert’s horse, Champion, was tied to a hitching post just outside of the little hut. You spotted the witcher on the dock. 

You were sure he had heard you. He had to have heard you. You weren’t that quiet as you walked, and he was a witcher. 

It appeared as though he was sharpening something, maybe a dagger of some sort. You tied your horse to the hitching post and moved towards Lambert.

“Lambert?” You said his name, stopping where the dock met the bank. 

“What?” He didn’t look at you or make any attempts to look in your direction. 

“I-I…. Did I do something to upset you?” You asked, messing nervously with your fingers. “To make you leave so suddenly?”

“No.” His answer was short and blunt.

“Then why won’t you look at me?”

He was silent. 

“Lambert, please.” You begged quietly, your voice no longer working properly. “If I did something, I-I need to know so I can make it right.”

“Why?” He put the dagger in his hand down and finally brought his eyes to you. He was upset, angry even. His golden eyes were full of so many emotions. “Why do you care about making it right?”

“Because I-I care about you.” You whispered.

“Bullshit.” He stood up, shaking his head as he moved down the dock. He tucked the dagger into its sheath and put the whetstone into his pocket.

You stepped out of his way, watching him go to Champion and begin to untie him. 

“Don’t tell me fucking bullshit lies like that, Y/N.”

“It’s not a lie, Lambert.” You shook your head, your vision blurring because of tears. You didn’t like that he was angry, that he was angry with you. “I do-I do care about you. What have I done to make you so furious with me?”

Lambert whirled around to face you, taking a step in your direction. 

“You fucking go around handing everyone else all those dumbass sketches you make! You’ve given Eskel a dozen and-and even fucking Jaskier gets them! But you haven’t given me one!”

You gazed up at him, wiping the tears from your cheeks. 

“I don’t care anymore.” He lowered his voice, shaking his head. “Don’t fucking care. They’re stupid and fucking useless.”

“Lambert, I-I have to show-to show you something.” You reached out to stop him from turning away, your hand finding his arm. “Why I haven’t given you any.”

He locked his jaw, moving his arm out of your grasp. 

You sniffled and wiped your cheeks. 

“Why?” He muttered.

“Because I need…. I need you to know that I care about you. I-I really do.” You wiped your cheeks again, your gaze dropping to the ground. 

He said nothing for a while, but you could feel his eyes on you. 

“Fine.”

***

The both of you were silent as you led him back up to the keep and then to your room. 

You pushed the door to your room open and moved to pull back the curtain, allowing sunlight to flow into the room. 

“Those little sketches I give to Eskel and Jaskier and everyone else, they’re what I work on when I need a break from this.” You moved across the room to an easel that was covered with a cloth. You pulled the cloth back to reveal a painting. It was only half way finished, but Lambert already knew what it was. It was a portrait of him, but only the right half of his face was done. 

Lambert’s lips parted as he stepped towards the painting. You could see the way the anger left his eyes. It was replaced with something softer, something more passive and tender. 

He reached out as if to brush his fingers over the canvas, but at the last minute he decided against it.

You stayed in place, unable to bring yourself to move. You chewed on the inside of your cheek. What if he thought it was weird that you were making such a big piece of art for him? What if he didn’t feel the same way as you?

“How, uh, how long have you been working on this?” He asked, unable to tear his eyes away to look at you.

“Since the leaves began to change.” You explained. “One of my last trips to the village, I purchased these items. I wanted something to keep me busy throughout the winter.”

Silence fell between you two. He still seemed to be fascinated with the art, eyes gliding over each and every little detail from the scar on his right eye to a scar on his neck just a few inches below his jaw. 

“I-I know it’s just a stupid little painting.” You shook your head, clenching your fists tightly together. “But-,”

“It’s not stupid.” He shook his head, then cleared his throat before looking at you. “It’s…. It’s really good.”

A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. 

“You think so?”

“Yeah. It’s…. It looks amazing.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “I feel like such a fucking jerk now.”

“No, no. It’s okay.” You shook your head, smiling shyly. “I understand why you were upset. I just…. I’m sorry I made you feel that way, feel left out and not included.”

He said nothing, turning his head to look back at the painting. 

“Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Lambert asked softly. He couldn’t look at you. He couldn’t bring himself to look into your eyes and see you look at him with such a soft gaze.

You moved away from him towards the window.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t feel the same…. That you’d be creeped out by it.” Your eyes flickered over the snow covered mountains.

“I didn’t think you’d…. That someone like you would be interested in someone like me.” He admitted. 

You turned your head to look at him, brows drawing together. 

“Someone like you?”

He sighed heavily, looking around the room for something to look at other than you. He spotted your dagger resting on your desk. He moved to it, inspecting the blade to make sure it was sharp enough to properly protect you should it be needed. 

“A witcher. Emotionless beast!” He waved his hands in the air a little dramatically. “Professional killer and all that shit.”

You tilted your head to the side, a solemn look crossing your face. 

“Lambert, you aren’t emotionless, nor are you a beast.”

“Well that’s what the rest of the world seems to think.” Lambert placed the dagger back on the desk. 

“Not me. To me, you’re thoughtful and brilliant. You love jokes and making people laugh. A proper jester.”

A little grin came to his lips. His eyes flickered up to meet yours. 

“You think I’d be good at professionally making a fool out of myself?”

You giggled. 

“That isn’t what I meant.”

“Lambert!” Vesemir called, his voice echoing through the tower. 

“Fuck.” Lambert muttered, moving towards the door. 

You watched him go, a little sad that nothing much had come out of your conversation. 

But then at the last minute, Lambert turned and crossed the room to you. He put one hand on your arm and leaned down to kiss your cheek. 

Immediately, you flushed red, shyly looking away as he smiled at you. 

“We’re going to have to talk later.”

Taglist: @pressedinthepages @mishafaye @whitewolfandthefox @wolfyland07 @belalugosisdead @persephonehemingway @keira-hulmaster @dinonuggs69 @greatestauthorofmygeneration @shadow-hunters-lover @dancingwith-thesunflowers @tedi-fach-las @thecomfortofoldstorries @raspberrydreamclouds @natkowaa @disasteren @weathervanes-my-oneandlonely @onlyhenrys @wackylurker @criminaly-supernatural @magpie343 @permanently-exhausted-witcher @hina-chans-stuff @the-space-between-heartbeats @havenoffandoms @carriebee1 @ger-bearofrivia @naominami @writingawaymylife @reaganjenelle @theawkwardpedestrian @scarlettwitcher @badassspaceprincess @just-a-sad-donut @summersong69 @an–actual–human–disaster @rubyqueen819 @omgkatinka @c-a-v-a-l-r-y @vonxcon @mazakeen @bravelittlesunflower @thereagles @awkward-turtles-world @menalliha @cotton_mo @maan24

[nev3rfound]

why him? : b.b

brief summary: in a world where soulmates exist, you’ve always wondered where yours might be hiding. until you meet him and wish you never had

word count: 1.9k requested: nope, something i felt like writing  warnings: none that i’m aware of, the events of winter soldier have been altered ever so slightly but thats it!

(everything on my blog is my own writing. if it is shared on another page or website know it isn’t me. all rights reserved. - thank you to everyone who helped regarding the wattpad situation, you’re all amazing)

masterlistin’

permanent taglist

“You’ve not met him yet, have you?” A voice question from over your shoulder, peering at the book you’re currently reading.

A small sigh leaves your lips as you Mark the page before closing it. “Is it that obvious?” You laugh lightly, turning to see Natasha smiling softly to you.

Moving around the sofas, Natasha sits down opposite you, her ring catching the sunlight through the floor to ceiling windows. “Most don’t read romance novels once they’ve found their soulmate.” She admits, looking out as rain beginnings to line the windows, dulling the golden band that she fiddles with. 

Soulmates weren’t exactly discussed within the compound, either you knew you had one or you didn’t. Names weren’t provided, it was just a matter of fact. You knew Steve lost his when he went into the ice, Clint has his family, and Natasha, well, that’s complicated. 

“Do you mind if I ask how you met?” You turn to face her, placing your book on the table in front of you as a smile crosses her lips. 

“He was definitely unexpected.” She chuckles, looking down at the wedding ring. “We met when I was on a mission, nearly shot him for intel.” 

Your eyes widen at the thought, but this was Natasha after all. “Not your typical story then,” You speak up, seeing her shake her head. “I’m sorry about what happened to him.” Your voice trails off, seeing her nod to you. 

“Thank you.” She mutters. “Maybe life might give me another go, but, I don’t think I’ll ever love someone the same way.” Her voice remains soft, but hollow. 

“I wonder if mines out there somewhere, anywhere.” You sigh, bringing your legs close to your chest. 

Out of the Avengers, you were their newest recruit. And unlike others, you wore the words on your forearm. 

Within the realm of soulmates, the means of finding them vary from person to person. Some have markings on their bodies, others see through their soulmates eyes once a year or like you, have their first words etched into your skin. 

It meant you were potentially vulnerable, especially within your line of work. But it didn’t stop you, you’d managed this long without your destined other half and they haven’t made the effort to find you so there’s no harm in waiting a little longer. 

“Don’t let it get you down, kid.” Natasha pats your shoulder. “They’ll be somewhere, most likely where you least suspect.” She tells you, watching as you chuckle to yourself.

“So, my bathroom then? Or, on a mission?” You joke, and Natasha laughs, shrugging her shoulders.

“Weirder things have happened.” She admits, her gaze wandering past you to see Steve walking in. “Speaking of which,” She mutters, rising to her feet and you quickly follow suit as Steve holds out a file for you both, panting lightly as blood lines his lip. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, noting the concern lining Steve’s expression as Natasha opens the file. 

Your eyes scan over the details and you look up to Steve who simply nods. “We’re not safe here, SHIELDS been comprimised.” 

*

Within less than an hour, you had vanished from the compound you considered your home. Steve drove to a friends house, a place to hide out for you all. He assured you it would be safe, and that you must be hidden away. 

But like every Avenger, you weren’t taking that statement lightly. 

Sitting in between Natasha and Sitwell, you knew time was running out if you wanted to stop the Insight from happening. “We’re cutting it a bit fine here.” Natasha speaks up and Sitwell remains silent, looking out of the window at the passing traffic. 

“We’ll use him to bypass the DNA scans to go directly to the hellicarriers.” Steve explains, only for Sitwell to scoff in response.

“HYDRA doesn’t like leaks, I mean, are you crazy?” He exclaims, only for you to punch him in the nose. 

“That ought to shut him up.” You coldly state, focusing dead ahead as Natasha smiles to herself. 

“It’s a terrible terrible id-” Before Sitwell can finish his sentence, you watch as a fist breaks through the glass, grabbing Sitwell and throwing him across the traffic. 

Natasha quickly moves to sit in the front seat, “Y/n, shield yourself.” She yells as shots are being fired through the roof. 

Obliging, you create a shield around yourself, blocking the the bullets as they land beside you. “I can’t hold it much longer.” You tell them as Sam begins to swerve through traffic, trying to rid you all of the unwanted company. 

Quickly, the car comes to a holt and you watch as the person is thrown off the car, but rises back to their feet. “That, that’s not good.” You mutter under your breath, reaching for your gun before a force hits the car from behind, resulting in you slamming your head and passing out.

“Y/n?” Steve yells, looking behind to see you lying unconscious as the car behind continues to push forward, nearing you all to the man in all black. “She’s out cold, Nat.” 

In a blink of an eye, the man rises to his feet, jumping back onto the roof as he clings on, breaking the glass from the back before moving to the front, tearing the wheel from Sam. 

“Shit!” He blurts out as Natasha reaches for your gun, firing it upwards. “We gotta get out.” Sam looks through the remainder of the side mirrors, seeing there’s no way out as he rams along the wall. 

“Grab Y/n.” Steve yells, and Sam obliges, bringing you onto his lap as Steve grips onto all three of you, breaking through the car door as you all land on the road. 

“Her heads bleeding.” Natasha mutters as blood trickles down your forehead. 

“Hide her!” Sam runs towards your unconscious body, just as an explosion is fired toward Steve, sending him flying down from the bridge.

With you in his arms, Sam hides you behind a row of traffic, shaking you lightly. “Come on, kid.” He knows time is running out, but you begin to stir in his arms. 

“What, what happened?” You ask, wincing as you sit upright. 

Sam looks over the cars to see the man looking across the bridge whilst other men near the pair of you. “There’s no time, just, just shield yourself okay. Stay hidden.” He instructs you, watching as you force a shield around yourself as he runs after Steve. 

The winter soldier begins to focus his shots onto Natasha whilst Sam dodges bullets behind another car, glancing over to ensure you’re safe. 

“There’s a fourth one.” A soldier speaks up as he passes the Winter Soldier a bigger gun, watching as his focus shifts from Natasha to the row of smashed cars where he can see an outline of a glow. 

You can hear the footsteps nearing you and the panic in Sam’s eyes as you focus on him. 

“Now.” He mouths to you, and you release your shield, forcing it outwards as you run through the temporary silence as the soldiers remain on the ground, but the Winter Soldier watches as you and Sam jump from the bridge. 

The Winter Soldier looks over his soldier as the soldiers rise to their feet. “идти!” They demand, and the soldier obliges, jumping from the bridge as he lands on a car with a thud. 

Hiding with Sam, you watch as gunfire is illuminating the crashed bus as civilans run away with urgency, screaming and crying as they go. “Where’s Nat?” You ask him, watching as he pulls out a knife from his pocket. 

You follow his gaze as he looks past the bridge, seeing the soldier with his goggles gone, eyes scanning the area for Natasha. 

“I’ve gotta get back up there.” He mutters under his breath, looking back at you. “Think you can get me up?” 

A smile ghosts your lips as you nod. “Could give it a try.” Powering up a shield in your hands, you force it onto Sam before lifting him up, sending him to the bridge as Steve’s eyes follow. 

Sam reaches for a gun and starts to fire. “Go! I’ve got this!” He yells down to Steve who shifts his focus back onto finding the Winter Soldier, wherever he may have wandered to. 

Looking down between the cars, you can see black boots tracing the area. “Okay.” You whisper under your breath, putting aside everything else including the throbbing of your forehead. 

The boots turn to face your direction, and you can feel your heart dropping. That is, until you hear Natasha’s voice loudly and his attention is diverted, saving you for a matter of minutes as you move away, finding somewhere else to hide out. 

As you run, a series of bullets follows you, some narrowly missing you as you duck down beside Steve to hides you with his shield. “You alright?” He mutters, watching as you nod. 

“Who is that guy?” You question, but Steve simply shakes his head and opens his mouth to respond, but his eyes widen as the car you’re hiding behind is torn apart, his metal arm illuminated as the man before you fixates his dark blue eyes onto you. 

You both rise to your feet and Steve pushes you behind him, throwing you back as he begins to fight against the soldier. 

When you see an opportunity, you fire your energy at the man, watching as he weakens momentarily before continuing his fight. But then you pause, letting yourself recharge before firing everything at him, knocking him down long enough for Steve to punch his shield into his face, removing his mask. 

The man rises back to his feet and you emerge from the sidelines, but Steve pauses. “Bucky?” He speaks up, focusing on the man in front of you both, but he continues to walk toward you. 

“Who the hell is Bucky?” He questions coldly, reaching out as he throws Steve aside, grabbing a hold of you by the neck. 

Fighting against his hold, you begin to feel limp. Your arms continue to grab his metal one, punching with all your might as his grip tightens. “You don’t have to do this,” You gasp for air, locking eyes with the soldier. “he, he’s your friend, Bucky.” Your eyes grow heavy, but something in the soldier snaps and he drops you to the ground. 

Chocking on air, you watch as he steps back. “I’m no one.” He tells you before turning away, disappearing into the smoke leaving you stunned. 

Steve rushes to your side and helps you up. “You alright?” He asks, watching as you try to form words, but it’s no use. “Y/n, can you hear me?” 

“It’s him.” You force the words out as you reach for your sleeve, forcing it down. 

Looking down, Steve can see the words on your arm glowing. “Bucky?” He questions, seeing you nod before Natasha appears with one of the guns. 

“And he knows.” You mutter, watching as fear crosses Steve’s eyes as he focuses on Nat. “I’m a dead woman walking.”

t a g l i s t (thank you for the support!) link in my bio and at the top of this piece to add yourself☺️

@biss-stuff​   @psychicforest​  @lourightm​ @mywinterwolf​   @justsomedreaming​ @stanlux17​ @supermoonchildbroski @xrosegoldwolfx​ @courtneychicken​ @marvelsangels @supraveng @tommy-lee-81 @fandom-princess-forevermore @sarge-barnes-sir @pleasantlysecretdream @decaffeinated–fangirl @howdyherron @kirby-boo

[lynnthevirgo]

Broken (Break Series) - Seokjin

WC: 1.7k

Summary: Seokjin didn’t want to believe you had left. How could he continue on without so much as a word from you?

Warnings: This might make you cry if you’re like me, so big, big, big, angst warning.

A/N:  This is a reupload. I had this under a different pen name, under a different account. If you found it then, yes, I will be continuing it on this account. This made me big sad to write, please someone request a part 2 TT-TT

Tags: @dreamescapeswriting​

************************************

He sat in your quiet apartment, wondering when everything had started falling apart around him and he never noticed. It was unfair that he was left here surrounded by all your things, all the memories you’d made in the small, quaint apartment you’d shared. Why was he forced to be reminded that you were no longer here? How could you just walk out on him like this? 

Seokjin remembered coming with you to pick this place out. The way your hair looked wrapped up in the pink ribbon you only wore when you felt cute. Or how the curtains were drawn up on the large windows to let in the sunlight, making the small apartment feel open, warm and bright. You’d been bouncing around from room to room, just like a little kid, seeing everything brand new. He knew the minute you stepped inside that you had fallen in love with it.

He gets up from the battered armchair that came from your family home and heads to the alcohol cabinet. Almost as if on auto pilot he grabs two glasses and fills them both with ice before realizing his mistake. It takes him everything to swallow down the emotion building inside his throat. Slowly he drops the ice cubes from the second glass back into the small cooler and wipes the glass clean before placing it back in the cabinet. Grabbing the whiskey, he brings it with him to the kitchen island and pours a glass while he stands searching the rooms surrounding him for traces of you.

“My heart is drenched in wine, but you will be on my mind forever.” Your favorite song plays in the background on his phone. Stealing the last of his battery after hours of rereading the same messages over and over again from you. Wondering if what you said was true, how would he learn to get along like he used to? How could he when everywhere he looked was something to remind him of you.

“But I’ll be a bag of bones driving down the road alone.” The singer croons beside him as he drinks his whiskey on the rocks. The liquor burning his throat on the way down, a way to remind him that he is here, this is happening to him. He wonders if you’re alone as she sings, or if you’re with your sister. She’s the only one you let see you this vulnerable, aside from your best friend and him. 

He watches the memories of you in the living room move around in flashes and for a moment it’s like you’re really with him. You sit in front of the window seat with a book, the spine falling apart and frayed at the tips from years of you rereading it. The sunlight being the only light in the room and it hitting your face just right, making your usual neutral brown eyes brighten like honey gold. Your hair is up and out of your face, so nothing can disturb you from the world playing out in front of you on the yellowed pages.

Then you’re getting up, your outfit changing from bedtime sweats and an old t-shirt to a pair of jeans that hug your hips and legs with a crop top. Seokjin laughs to himself as he remembers you dancing wildly in the living room, pushing the chairs and furniture aside as you wave a colorful stick around to the beat of the song playing. Your hair falls out of the bun you put it in and you leave it fall round your shoulders, tendrils of your locks curling within each other in a haphazard mess. He laughs louder, the sight of you belting a song in his first language with all the wrong pronunciations and making up words as you go too much for him to hold it in.

He didn’t realize he had drank half the bottle until he stopped laughing long enough to really focus on pouring his glass again. The ice had melted long ago, he had been drinking it straight and it was getting harder to ignore the lump in his throat. He realized he was drinking to get it to go away and all it seemed to do was fuel the memories of you and increase it‘s size. Seokjin had been finding you deeper and deeper in the bottom of this bottle and it was killing him how alone it made him feel that you weren’t here.

Seokjin stares at the memory of you sitting in the armchair he was sitting in hours ago. 

“Why, y/n? Knowing how hard it is for me to be alone and you leave me here….why?” He asks you, his voice soft and on the verge of breaking. The emotions and his vision clouding his better judgment for what he’s doing.

“I love you so much, so much it hurts, Jagiya… You were everything and still are. ” Seokjin drops to the floor on his knees, his voice broken along with his pride.

“Every morning I‘d wake to find you in my arms, my own form of sunlight, warm and bright to help the day start off right.” He maintains eye contact with you as he crawls to the armchair slowly, swallowing more emotion as the tears start forming.

“Everything you touched you made better, my coffee, my whiskey, our shared closet and my entire life.” The tears are falling now, but he won’t let them blur the only image he has left of you.

“You were so, so pure and strong…everything I needed you to be when nothing seemed to be falling into place for me last summer.” Seokjin pulls himself back up to sit on his heels when he finds himself in front of you. The memory of you staring down at him with warm, sympathetic eyes and the calmest, happiest look on your face. 

He lowers himself down to bow in front of you and everything he’d been holding in until now breaks inside of him, like his heart did when you called him at work to tell him you were leaving. That when he came home he’d find an empty apartment and that it would be like you were never there. His heart had fallen to his stomach by then, but nothing he could’ve told you would’ve changed your mind. He knew that by the tone you were using, and the suitcase clicks in the background signified you were actually packing. You never waited for him to say anything, just said what you had to say and then hung up.

“Tell me why!! Tell me why I wasn‘t enough for what you needed! WHY COULDN‘T YOU TELL ME ANYTHING?!” He screams into the floor, his sobs ebbing through him with every breath he takes. 

“I‘m sorry, so sorry that I wasn‘t what you thought I‘d be. Is that what you want to hear? Is that what you wanted to hear me say when you called, y/n?” Seokjin asks the floor in between broken cries of the hurt he feels inside his chest. 

Why does this hurt so much? Is that what they meant when they said you fall in love? Because that’s what it felt like, he was falling and falling with no landing place to catch him. For the first time he understood what they meant when they said 

‘You know it’s real when after it’s over, all you can feel is the hole of the space they used to hold.’ that’s the only reason why he knows you’re real. Why any of this happiness he had was ever real. Now that it’s gone, everything inside him feels hollow and cold, because it no longer holds the warmth and fullness you used to bring him.

He was so mad when he came home and now all he wants is your arms around him, fingers in his hair and your smile to make this hurt go away. Why couldn’t you be there to do that for him? How could something as perfect as what you two had disappear so fast without so much as a blink from him? Seokjin wanted to lay you down on the bed you two shared and kiss every inch of your skin, to remind himself of the way your salty skin tastes. To feel every line your body made, to drown himself in the scent of what had been the only thing he’d known for three years.

But you were gone. You had made it clear that you were leaving and you weren’t sure how long it would be when you came back. It had been made obvious there was a possibility that you might never come back and that felt horrible bouncing around his head. His life without you in it was too much pain for him to deal with. 

He chokes back another loud sob and whimpers instead at the hand pulling his heart in every direction known to man. With a handful of sniffles, he grunts and collects himself up off the floor and stares down at the memory of you. 

“Tell me why.” He orders, his stance firm and fists clenched so tight he could’ve been breaking skin.

“Why did you leave me?” He asks again, not really expecting an answer but getting one.

When you stand to face him, he almost melts within the scent surrounding you. His lip quivers with the emotion coming right back to torment him again over the ache you left behind.

“I‘m sorry” You tell him, your hand touching his chest so lightly he can’t feel a thing. Your words reaching his ears in a soft but calm whisper.

“You deserve so much better than I can give you.” You continue, this time your words making him sob because that’s what he just said to you moments ago.

“I hope you can be happier without me, but I will always love you like you‘ve taught me to love myself all these years. Please take care of yourself for me, Jinnie, I don‘t want to worry about you. It‘ll hurt enough to think of the memory of you.” Is the last thing you say before you fade away from him and he falls to the floor again.

Except this time he’s holding the phone that was in the kitchen. On the screen is the last messages you sent him and he’s crying like a small child who’s lost his childhood pet. His sense of security and companionship gone, your presence disappearing around him. This was not his home, this was not his life, he didn’t want any of it if he had to go through it without you.

[lovemychoices]

Always Be My Driver - A RoD Rom-Com [Colt x MC/Logan x MC]. CH 6

Book : RIDE OR DIE

PAIRING : Colt x MC/ Logan x MC

SUMMARY: Emma and Colt have been childhood best friends since forever, they were both inseparable. In middle school they became something more but when Colt had to move with his mom away from LA all the way to Miami, things started to change between them. A small misunderstanding leads to the end of their relationship. 6 years later they meet again at the most unlikely place. Will Emma and Colt be able to mend what has been broken between them? Or will it continue to crash and burn?

Characters except my OCs belong to Pixelberry, I am just borrowing them

Word count : 2207

Chapter Summary: Colt and Emma spend the day together.

A/N : short chapter & Excuse my grammatical mistakes. Does the more function on mobile even work?

Warning : I’m rating this PG18 cause there will probably be PG18 stuff that’s going to happen in future chapters. So if you read this series you acknowledge that you are above 18.

Catch up with the series HERE

[[MORE]]

“Get up it’s almost noon!” Mona belts, opening the curtains of the loft letting the bright sunlight hit Emma’s face.

“No! Leave me alone.. I want to wallow in sorrow from the comforts of my bed.” Emma whined, covering her face with a pillow. It was the day after Logan told her they should go on a break. Code for we should break up.

“God, this is the most depressing thing I’ve ever seen.. And I’ve been to prison.” Mona mumbles and plops herself on the bed next to Emma. “Look, technically you’re on a break which could be good thing.”

Emma turns on her side to face Mona. “How can this be a good thing?”

“Because now you actually have some space and time to think about what you actually want.” She grinned, Emma just stares at her with a blank expression, making Mona roll her eyes. “Look ever since Colt showed up you’ve been caught between your feelings for him and Logan.” Emma is about to say something but Mona raises her hand and shushes her. “Before you deny anything please remember who you’re talking to.”

“Does it even matter now? Colt’s spending the whole week with some pretty girl who is so into him and he’s probably into her too. He even took her to our favorite ice cream parlor!”

Mona snorts. "Didn't take you for a quitter?"

“I’m not a quitter.” She protests then gets out of bed, pacing back and forth on the hardwood floors making a creek sound. “It’s just.. I don’t know where Colt stands in regards to what his feelings are for me. I mean one night he tells me how bad he wants to kiss and the next night he acts like he couldn’t care less.”

An alarm on Emma’s phone goes off and she heads to the nightstand to check the notifications. Shit I totally forgot about this. A few months ago Emma’s favorite cousin called her up and told her she was getting married during the summer in San Francisco, when she asked about the RSVP Emma told her that she would be going with a plus one. The plan was that Logan and her were going to drive together Friday morning in time for the rehearsal dinner but that was before they broke up.

“Em? Is everything alright?” Mona quirks an eyebrow.

Emma snaps out of her thoughts. “Yea, Totally. So, Mona any chance you want to attend a wedding in San Francisco this weekend with me?”

Mona snorts out a laugh. “No thanks I have other plans, you’re not the only one with a love life you know.”

“I didn’t know you had a girlfriend?”

“I don’t but that doesn’t mean I don’t go on dates. Also if you’re thinking about dragging Ximena or Toby along you won’t have any luck there either.”

Emma heaves out a frustrated sigh and plops herself back on the bed. “So now I need to drive 5 hours alone and attend a wedding alone like some loser.”

“You know there is someone else you could ask who would go with you.” Mona gives Emma a knowing look. “You know someone handsome with dark hair, likes to brood by himself, drives a really cool white sport bike.”

Emma scoffs. “Yeah.. Except you forgot that someone happens to be occupied the whole week with some petite brunette named Jean.”

“Haha… You know you’re cute when your jealous? But I think that Colt would turn down a date with 100 pretty brunette’s named Jean just so he could be with you.” Mona gives a sincere smile which rarely happens. “I need to head out for a job. Just do me a favour, take a shower before you start to reek."

"Fine!" She answers, throwing her hand up in the air before heanding for the bathroom.

Half an hour later…

After a long cold shower, Emma walks out from the bathroom with a towel wrapped around her body and her damp hair when she hears a soft knock on the door. I thought Mona left already? She opens the door and to her surprise, sees Colt standing on the other side. "Can I come in?" He asked with a serious expression on his face.

She gives him a skeptical look before eventually nodding and motions for him to enter the room.

"What do you want?" She said in a flat tone with her arms crossed.

His eyes wandered from her face down her chest then back to her face again. "I uh.. Your car’s park in the garage but didn't see you all day, thought maybe I’d check up on you. I wanted to see if you were okay?”

Emma scoffs. "Suddenly you care so much?"

"Why wouldn't I? I'll always care about you Emma, you know that right? If something is bothering you, you can always talk to me." He replies and she could see how sincere he was. Great now I feel bad for being a jerk. "I had some stuff going on, I wasn't really in the mood to do anything this morning."

"Is there anything I can do to cheer you up?" A sudden loud growling sound comes out Emma’s direction. Her face turns pink, she wraps her arms around her stomach. “Have you eaten anything since this morning?”

“Obviously not.”

“Get dressed, we’re going out to grab something to eat. I’m driving.” He smiles and whirls on his heels towards the door, stopping at the threshold, looking over his shoulder. “Wear something appropriate, no dresses or skirts.”

A little while later…

Emma heads down to the garage to meet Colt, she sees him leaning against his motorcycle arms folded. A grin appears on his face as he watches her saunter over. “Took you long enough.”

“Yeah well, you don’t get to look like this without putting in any effort.”

Colt rolls his eyes. “Here, this is for you.” He says and hands her a black coloured helmet, she raises her eyebrow at him. “What’s this for? Aren’t we taking a car?”

Colt scoff. “At this hour? You know how bad the traffic is in LA right?” Emma bites her lower lip, she’d hate to admit it but she’s never ridden on a motorcycle before. “You haven’t ridden one of these before have you?” Emma shakes her head as a reply that she’s never rode a motorcycle.

Colt snorts out a laugh. “Emma.. Emma… Emma.. you’re really missing out. So what do you say?” He gestures at the helmet on his hand giving her a challenging look. “Or are you too chicken?”

Did he just call me a chicken? “Alright fine!” She forcefully grabs the helmet out from Colts hand. “And don’t think for one second that you’re slowling down on this thing. I want full speed or no speed at all.”

“Yes ma’am” he gives an exaggerated salute before hopping on to his bike, Emma sitting behind him. Colt starts revving the throttle of his bike while waiting for the garage door to open. “Hold on tight sweetheart, we’re going on one hell of a ride.”

****************************************

A little while later after maneuvering through the bustling city traffic of LA, the two finally reach a familiar spot.

Emma hopped off the bike and opens up her helmet, slowly taking in the sight. A low shrug escaped her and Colt notices. “What not fancy enough for you?”

“No it’s not that, it’s just that I haven’t been here in like almost forever.”

“Well same here, I hope their hotdogs are still as good though. Common all that riding around worked up an appetite.” The two stopped at a nearby food cart and Colt orders a couple of hotdogs after that they continue walking towards the pier. They lean against the wooden rail and enjoy every bite of their food while silently taking in the view of the ocean.

“So.. where’s Jean?” She tries not to grimace as she said the name. “Aren’t you like supposed to be her personal tour guide around LA or something?”

Colt thought back to the night before after the movies and during his time with Jean at the ice cream shop.

“Omg.. This is literally the best handmade ice cream I’ve tasted so far!” Jean beams as she takes another scoop and stuffed it in her mouth. Colt chuckled. “What did I tell ya, Barry beats any big ice cream franchise by a 100 miles. I used to come here a lot with Emma when we were kids.”

Jean gave Colt knowing look when he mentions her name and clears her throat “So how long have you been in love with her?”

Colt slightly chokes on his ice cream. “What do you mean how long have I been in love with her? I’m not in love with..” “Colt it’s fine, I saw the way you looked at her when we were at the movies and the way your face lights up everytime you say her name. Which by the way is a very rare thing to happen for Colt Kaneko.” She grinned and it made Colt slightly blush. “So what’s the scoop? Pun intended.”

Colt snort then heaves a sigh, running his hand through his hair. “You want the whole story?” She nodded excitedly. “Alright where do I begin.” Colt told Jean everything from how they were when they were kids to their first kiss and when they broke up. “Did the two of you ever talk about it? The whole time you were here?”

“Why should we it’s in the past we’ve both moved on, she dating Logan.” He grimaced as he mentioned the name. “Does she know you still have feelings for her?.”

“Like I said she has a boyfriend. I go back to MIT in Boston after the summer ends, what’s the point?”

“So you should still tell her how you feel. What she decides after that is up to her but she at least deserves to know the truth. It’s okay to make yourself feel vulnerable sometimes Colt, when it’s with the right person.”

Colt let her words sink in for a moment. “I’ll think about it but no promises.”

“That’s good enough for me.” She chuckled. “Hey so about this week you don’t have to like be my tour guide or anything. I actually made plans with someone else.”

“Ouch!” He exaggeratedly pressed his hands to his chest. “Did I just get ditched? You hurt me Jean, you know that?”

Jean chuckled. “I’m sure you’ll survive.”

“She had other plans. We’re cool.” He answers and take one last bite of his hotdog. “I’d better get you back to the garage before pretty boy finds you missing and gets all worried.”

Emma shrugs. “I don’t think there is anything to worry about.” Colt gives her a questioning look. “Is everything okay?”

“We sort of broke up, last night. It was sort of my fault. I don’t really want to talk about it.” Only because it involved you.

Colt rubbed the back of his head. “Well good riddance.”

“Colt!”

“What? I’m just saying Em, you’re too good for him. You deserve better. I know I’ve said this before and I’ll keep saying it again.” He said with a sincere look on his face. “You deserve to be with someone who can give you a family and that house in the suburbs with the white picket fence. Just like you always wanted when we were kids.”

He remembered? “Colt, that’s not who I am anymore.” She replies but her expression was unconvincing. Of course that was what she still wanted, the garage was only a temporary arrangement for her to pay for her college expenses. But she never really talked to Logan about what comes after she’s done with college, does he plan on being a car thief for the rest of his life? “How do you even remember all of that? It’s been years.”

“I remember everything about you Emma Park. You’re not really an easy person to forget.” He smiled at her and it felt warm and genuine. “Okay Mr. Flatterer, what's going on with you today?”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s.. It’s nothing just forget about it.” She waves him off and takes one last bite of her hotdog. Maybe since he is in such a good mood, this might be the right time to ask him. “So uh.. I need a small favor from you.” He raised an eyebrow at her giving a curious look. “There’s this thing coming up this weekend. You know my cousin Amanda?”

“The one who used to babysit us when we were kids?”

“Yup the very same, well she’s getting married this weekend and I RSVP six months ago that I would be going with a plus one but then the whole thing with Logan happened so now I don’t have a plus one and that sucks because…”

“Sure I’ll go as your plus one.” He answers before she could finish her whole speech. “But I didn’t even finish talking yet.”

“Well wasn’t that what you’re going to ask me?” He raised his eyebrows and she nodded. “So you’ll do it? Just like that?”

“Sure, as long as you promise to introduce me to all the pretty hot bridesmaid that will be attending.” He grinned and Emma rolled her eyes. “Do we have a deal?”

Emma thought for a moment does she really want to see other girls fond over Colt during their time there? “It’s a deal.”

********************************************

Rod - @liamzigmichael4ever @client-327 @brightpinkpeppercorn @lovehugsandcandy @lilyofchoices @rideorparadise @zaffrenotes @queenkaneko @mskaneko @pintsizedelle @flowerpowell @desiree-0816 @emceesynonymroll @kinkykingliam @jlpplays1 @annekebbphotography @thecordoniandiaries @cora-nova @rainbowsinthestorm @princess-geek @choicesbyjade @leelee10898 @herladyshipxx @emichelle @kimmiedoo5 @dawn-1994 @choicesarehard

[themisanthropiclycanthrope]

Every Little Thing

i couldn’t help writing more snake!crowley. i’m soft

continue beneath the cut with bonus snek phone doodle or on ao3

****

Eyes never leaving the page, Aziraphale reached for his cocoa, hand finding the mug by instinct alone, only to discover it had once again grown cold. Disappointed, he was debating whether to miracle it warm or make a fresh mug when the liquid began to steam with renewed heat.

 “Oh!”

 He had quite forgotten that Crowley was here. (Well, not forgotten exactly, rather allowed himself to become so absorbed by his latest acquisition that he had let the world around him fade.) In addition, the demon had been uncharacteristically quiet, not making a nuisance of himself as was more often the case.

Currently sprawled in an armchair he had dragged over to the window (perfectly positioned to catch the sunlight slanting through the glass) Crowley had his long legs flung over one of the arms, his head resting atop the other, arms spread wide; it was a position that looked ridiculously uncomfortable, in Aziraphale’s opinion, but Crowley seemed content enough.

Although…

Seeing that slender body slung sinuously across the (rather antique and expensive) piece of furniture, Aziraphale began to wonder if he would not be even more comfortable if he were to take a form far more suited to dramatic draping.

“Dear boy, if it would be more comfortable, you can always… you know. If you want.”

Crowley tipped his head back over the arm of the chair to cast an upside-down expression of bafflement at Aziraphale. His sunglasses hid his eyes (quite regrettably in Aziraphale’s opinion) but the crease between his brows communicated his confusion quite eloquently.

“You’re not making any sense, angel.”

“Well, I thought you might… that is to say…”  Aziraphale stammered to a halt, unsure if this was the sort of thing one should suggest. Perhaps it would be impolite to broach the subject, especially when Crowley had never seemed particularly inclined… 

Crowley grew impatient with Aziraphale’s dithering, the roll of his eyes hidden behind tinted lenses but palpable. “Spit it out.”

“If you would like to lounge in the sun in your serpent form, you are welcome to do so.”

Crowley jerked upright, twisting in his seat to stare at Aziraphale, one brow arched above his shades.

“You…” It wasn’t often Crowley found himself speechless, but he definitely hadn’t been expecting that. “You wouldn’t mind?”

“Mind?” Aziraphale frowned. “Why would I mind?”

Crowley waved a hand in the air, as if it should be obvious. “Most people tend to be a bit wary of a great big snake lurking around.”

Aziraphale prickled, mildly affronted at the implication that he should be bothered by Crowley’s presence. But there was a vulnerability behind Crowley’s words that suggested his hesitation stemmed from a fear of rejection (although he would never admit to such a thing).

A smile of understanding softened his face. “I’m not ‘most people’, am I?”

The truth of that statement slammed into Crowley, stealing the breath he didn’t need. Aziraphale was… well. He was the one who had been by Crowley’s side since this world began, the one who had seen the good in him (as much as he’d tried to deny it), accepted his failings, fought for him, saved his life, stuck by him even when he’d insisted on being a massive prick. He had weathered all that (and the almost-end of the world) and he was still here, still happy to have Crowley hanging around.

Still looking at him as if he were truly worth something.

Unable to quite process that, Crowley merely gaped at him.

“My dear, I will love you in whatever form you choose to take. Please don’t ever think you have to hide yourself from me.”

Crowley’s face did something complicated, like it wasn’t entirely sure how to express whatever emotion the demon was feeling, and rather than attempt to tame it into something that might be recognisable, he blinked.

As Aziraphale watched, Crowley’s form flickered, blurred, seemed to flow like liquid and pour down into the seat of his chair. Aziraphale craned his neck, but could make out little more than a dark puddle nestled into the cushion.

A moment later, Crowley peeked his head up above the arm of the chair, tentative, tongue darting out to taste the air. But it was the gaze that struck Aziraphale, still the same golden yellow eyes he had first been stunned by in Eden, that he had adored ever since, that were still as bright and beautiful now.

“There you are.”

Aziraphale marked his place in the book before rising from his desk, approaching the armchair as if drawn by some ineffable force. Crowley’s tongue flickered again but, sensing no threat, he stayed still, waiting. Aziraphale’s arm rose, almost of its own accord, but he stopped just short of touching, unsure if it was the done thing to just going ahead and stroke the face of your best friend without even stopping to ask first. It was Crowley who settled the matter, gliding forward until his head rested in Aziraphale’s palm. A perfect fit.

Aziraphale beamed, a smile that seemed to glow, and stroked gentle fingers between the ridges of his eyes, and his hand was so wonderfully warm.

“My darling boy,” Aziraphale said on a breath, captivated by the feel of the smooth scales beneath the pads of his fingers, “you’re stunning.”

Crowley had never been more grateful that snakes couldn’t blush.

Feeling a little drunk on the unconcealed admiration directed so openly at him (and yearning for more), Crowley shifted the length of his body, looping up over one arm of the chair to leave the seat free in what could only be an invitation. But Aziraphale, clever as he was, sometimes required a less subtle approach. Crowley swayed his head – snake turned charmer – delighting in the tiny little temptation. “Sssit, angel.”

It took only a moment’s deliberation for Aziraphale to comply, plopping himself down on the vacant cushion, as ready to yield to Crowley’s wishes as (almost) always. Immediately he was seated, Crowley slid into Aziraphale’s lap, coiling his body snugly, then slipped up one arm, across his shoulders, and down the other side, letting his head come to rest atop one wonderfully plump thigh.

With the warmth from the sun above, the heat from Aziraphale’s body below, and the scent of the angel enveloping him, Crowley struggled to think of a time he’d ever been more comfortable, more content. He felt a pang of regret; so many years they could have enjoyed moments like this, if only they had allowed themselves to forget the rules they had felt compelled to adhere to, the fears that had held them back for so long. Now, however, now they had no one watching them, no need to hide or pretend. It felt… well. It felt heavenly.

There was just one thing that would make it perfect…

Lazily lifting his head, he pressed his snout into Aziraphale’s hand, gently nudging until the angel got the hint and his fingers resumed their earlier caress, warm and soothing.

A flick of Crowley’s tail and Aziraphale received his reward, his book manifesting in his free hand.

“Oh!” His exclamation of surprise was full of delight. “Thank you, my dear!” He gave a little wiggle, settling them both further into the soft cushions, his fingers never ceasing their movement along Crowley’s scales.

It hadn’t been an entirely altruistic act, however, for so long as Aziraphale had a book in his hand, he wasn’t likely to move for several hours. And that suited Crowley just fine.

****

BONUS SNEK:

my brain at 1am after completing this fic: draw the thing!

me: but i cannot art!

also me: *puts finger to phone*

[whoopsimwritingagain]

Can I request a clace fanfic? Maybe when they are married or engaged idk quite a bit into their relationship. Maybe jace gets jealous of clary joking with another boy and you can decide what happens. 💙

A/N: I’m sorry if this is a weird mix of TV/ book universe I’m just kind of going for it and I’ve been re-reading and watching the TV show so my wires are a bit crossed. Also, this is an AU where Simon remembers everything and can be with Izzie and apparently vampires can have children now! There are no rules. Also oops you’re getting a long-ass proposal flashback as well (two for the price of one!) because as stated before, there are no rules. I wrote this in 4.5 hours after midnight in my bed so hopefully, it still has a plotline in the morning. I really hope you like it! Give me notes or criticisms or requests!!!

Category: Fluff with angst peppered in

Warnings: Suggestive humor, angst, rare cursing, and not really adultery but jealousy I suppose???

Word Count: 3706

- 3 years after City of Heavenly Fire -

*Clary’s POV*

The early March snow falls lightly from a grey New York sky. Jace, Isabelle, Simon, and I sit in our regular booth at Taki’s on a double date. Well… it was less of a date and more of a meeting. After all, I had been dubbed Isabelle’s amatuer baby shower planner, and she, my wedding planner. Wedding. that word still sends my head spinning. It isn’t that I’m not ready, or that I don’t want this. I mean, after all, I’m living my dream! I had always known I would marry Jace, but something about this is so surreal and I can’t quite put my finger on it.

Still, a wedding! I try to ground myself as Izzy explains what she had in mind for the floral arrangements, but, as can be expected, I find myself daydreaming instead. Jace popped the question the night of Izzy and Simon’s wedding. We were driving home from the reception as they had portaled to Idris for their honeymoon, and while I napped in the passenger seat Jace had driven us out of the city to Luke’s farm in the countryside. I imagine his grip on the wheel was a little tighter than usual as he ran over his speech in his head and the jewelry box burned a hole in his pocket. He let me sleep until just before sunrise when he started to lightly trace the runes that swirled across my arms. The less-than-comfortable car seat, combined with the introduction of sunlight, and the touch of my love had all awoken me. He told me he had a surprise for me and carried me bridal-style a few hundred yards until I tapped him on the shoulder to signal that I could make it the rest of the way to wherever this “surprise” was on my own. He laid out a blanket on the side of a big hill where I used to play tag with Simon while my mother painted. I had brought him out here the night of her wedding - it is one of my favorite places. He laid down and I laid on his chest as the stars dimmed and the sky transitioned from muted blues into various shades of pastels. After several minutes of laying there in silence, I twisted around and kissed him gently, at first, and then deeper. We stayed like this for a while, until I noticed a dampness on his cheeks. He wasn’t crying per se… but he was teary. I wiped some of the moisture away with my thumb. “Jace, what’s wrong?” He bit his lip and gently shook his head regaining his composure “S’nothin.” He pulled my leg over his torso and I straddled him as we continued to kiss. Things got more heated, though he was moving at a slower pace than I was used to, so I pressed my body closer to him and grinned. “Do you have something in your pocket, or are you excited to see me?” I questioned. Little did I know how intensely my cheesy jibe was going to backfire. My then-boyfriend chuckled, almost sadly, under my weight. “Jace… what’s wrong?” he glanced to the wildflowers scattered about the field next to us. “I’m nervous Clary,” he confessed. Now it was my turn to giggle, “Why would you be nervous silly?” I ran my fingers through his hair and gazed in wonder at the morning sky reflected in his eyes which were just a bit watery now and he flashed his classic smirk. “Well, this isn’t how I had planned on this going at all!” He exclaimed as he ran his hands up and down my sides slowly, “I’m not complaining though… it’s just a little less traditional than I had wanted.” I raised one eyebrow, “Since when have you ever wanted to do anything traditionally?” He smiled up at me knowingly and held both of my hands in his, “Well typically I would ask your father first, but that one seemed out of the question so I asked Jocelyn and Luke. And, well, normally instead of you straddling me I would get down on one knee in front of you. But! Here we are, and I did get one thing right.” He dropped my left hand to dig in his pocket and pulled out a dazzling emerald ring set amongst tiny diamonds and my vision went blurry. “You’re a size six and a half right?” he questioned feigning confidence, but I heard his voice waver. “Isn’t there something else you should ask me?” I struggled to say attempting to match his wit but instead meeting his emotional vulnerability. “Clarissa… Clarissa Fairchild,” he spoke softly now, his eyes locked with mine, “you know beyond a shadow of a doubt how absolutely madly in love with you I am, and somehow you feel the same way,” he was really crying at this point, “to me you are the most important thing in this world and I will never turn my back on you unless you ask me to, so would you do me the pleasure of marrying me?” No words left my mouth so I met him with a small yet unspeakably meaningful kiss instead. When the kiss subsided I nodded gently our faces centimeters apart. “I can’t wait to marry you.”

“Clary!” Isabelle snaps, pulling me out of my daydreams. “I swear to god if you keep on doing this it’s neon Gerber daisies the whole night!” Izzy gripes at me “and I’m allergic!” Simon pipes in eliciting a blushing eye roll from Isabelle. “Sorry” I blush as Jace looks at me quizzically. Before he has a chance to question me Isabelle’s necklace starts to glow red causing the hair on my neck to stand up. “Oh no” Simon whispers. Izzy begins to get up “Well?! Let’s go!” she insists. “Not so fast!” Jace interjects, “Isabelle if you think you are going on a mission anytime in the next year you’re even crazier than I thought you were.” He turns to Simon now “Simon you take her home. Clary and I will take care of this.” Izzy looks like she is going to protest for a split second but instead thinks better of it. As Simon reaches for her wrist to take her away from the danger she puts on hand up to unclasp her necklace and hands it to me. “Clary, I have a feeling you’ll be needing this more than I for the foreseeable future.” I grasp it firmly, “Thank you, Isabelle.” Jace grabs my shoulder and I turn to face him “Let’s go” he suggests “Let’s” I answer.

We run out into the alleyway together where we see a teen girl’s limp body lying against a building about 50 yards away. We run in the direction of the body when we catch sight of the culprit, a possessed young man with light hair, running East. Jace and I communicate nearly telepathically as he runs over a block to try and cut the demonic boy off as I tail him. I had nearly caught up when Jace burst out of an alleyway tackling the boy to the ground and holding his arms behind his back, presenting his chest to me. But it can’t be. I can’t be seeing what I’m seeing. Then again if I’m not seeing what I’m seeing the boy would have been dead. The boy in front of me was the spitting image of Jonathan. But the Jonathan this boy is bringing to my eyes now is not the one who tried to kill all of my loved ones, held me hostage, and had a strange obsession with me. The boy in front of me transforms instantly into the Jonathan who died in my arms, finally freed of his impurities, the only real brother I ever had. “Clary! What are you doing! Kill him he’s strong.” Jace’s yelling interrupts my thoughts, but the boy still seems so innocent. I have an irresistible urge to save him, to set him free. I kneel in front of the boy, the demon admittedly, and I do the unthinkable. I kiss him. Not on his mouth but on his forehead, his cheek, his nose. I’m not in my right mind as I whisper, “please, please come back. Make it alright again.” Jace recoils in disgust and the demon, a lesser one, is set free leaving a gash in my arm as he leaves the boys body and flies off into the night and the boy, now dead, collapses onto the sidewalk. I’m shaking and the world doesn’t feel quite real yet. I feel nothing and everything all at the same time and when I finally look up to my fiance for reassurance Jace is fuming. Oh. Oh my god, what have I done? Why did I do that? I put him at risk, I put myself at risk. I kissed the face of a demon. What am I doing? “Jace -I” I realize my face is wet with tears. “You’re hurt,” he states. He walks over to me and inspects my wound, taking off his jacket to place over my torn one. “I’m taking you back to the institute” but his voice carries no emotion.

In the car his knuckles are white on the steering wheel and though we are three-fourths of the way to the institute he hasn’t said a word to me. “Jace I- I’m so sorry,” I choke out “I don’t know what came over me I really d-” “Stop,” he interrupts. “But I-” I try again. “I can’t do this right now!” he runs a red light and continues driving determinately in the direction of his institute.

As we arrive he asks no one in particular for a medic to accompany me to the infirmary. And then he just… leaves. He walks to the stairwell and I catch my last glimpse of him for the next few hours as the door swings shut. Sitting in the infirmary without him there stings. It stings more than the antiseptic and the stitches the two medics at my bedside work at. Although I’m sure that my actions outside of the diner hurt worse, and shocked him more. As much as I tell myself that it doesn’t lessen my pain, it focuses it. Jace is the love of my life and I can’t believe I hurt him in such a stupid and irrational fashion. It’s been three years since Johnathan died. Since we killed the only part of him strong enough to sustain life. With Jace being promoted to head of the institute a meer six months later after Alec moved to Idris to serve on the council and restart with Magnus life had gotten so inexplicably busy. That’s when I had stopped going to therapy. I truly believed I was over this, but I suppose I proved myself wrong tonight. I would talk to the psychiatrist at the institute in the morning about getting back on the schedule before I have a psychotic break at the altar. Wedding. Oh… wedding, my fiance. betrayal… ouch.

Then Isabelle and Simon walk through the door and Isabelle informs the medics that Jace would like to know if my wounds have any severity to them. Yikes, he won’t even come in here himself to ask about me. God, I hate myself right now. She sends me a sympathetic and intense look as they reassure her I will be fine after a few hours of rest with my treatment and turns assumedly to report back to Jace. Simon, however, leaves her side and walks over to sit on the cot across from me. Tears start to spill out of the corners of my eyes and Simons eyes are almost painfully fill with sympathy as he sees my own. “I don’t know very much,” he says “do you need to talk? Or would you rather be distracted by the story of Passover with my nana meeting my pregnant nineteen-year-old wife?” This is the first thing all night that has lifted my spirits at all. I even giggle a little causing the medics to chastise Simon. “You have to tell me that one soon, but, Simon, I really screwed up.” My voice cracks as the tears start to spill down my cheeks. “My ears are yours Fray,” Simon reassures. So I tell him. I tell him everything that funneled into what happened tonight. And he is maybe the best best-friend/ ex-boyfriend anyone could ask for because he listens, attentively, and actively to all of my hot mess. “Well Clary, It isn’t the most ideal situation you could have gotten yourself into.” I nod as he responds to my ramblings. “But, after the past five years we’ve had, it’s certainly not the worst. If I were Jace I would be hurt. You’re an easy person to get jealous over. But you and Jace have overcome so many odds and you know each other so well. You need to talk this out but I’m sure you’ll be on the other end of this in no time.” The medics ask Simon to leave and explaining to my uninterested ears that I need to sleep for a couple of hours for the salve to take effect. “I need to speak to Jace I don’t have time to sleep right now,” I argue. “The gaping wound on your arm says otherwise Ms. Fairchild, don’t you have a sleeveless wedding gown to put on in a few months?” one medic claps back. At this moment I realize just how exhausted I am from all of this. “Thank you, Simon, I love you,” I state before he closes the door behind him. I lay my head down on the pillow and fall into an uneasy sleep within minutes.

Nearly three hours later I wake up with a single-mindedness to confront Jace and be back in his arms. I don’t wait for the medics to talk to me. I just get up and head to the training room, where I know he’ll be if he needs to burn off steam. I was right, he was there, but when I show up to the training room a young shadowhunter informs me that I’ve just missed him. I run up the stairs to our shared suite, which is probably ill-advised as it makes my arm throb, but I’m far too impatient for the elevator right now. I open and close the door quietly to discover that he’s in the shower. Nothing has ever stopped me from interrupting him there before. However, this is different, I haven’t messed up this badly before. I haven’t hurt him like this before. So instead I pull a barstool out from our counter and wait. Somehow this waiting is worse than the overthinking earlier while I got stitches. I think it has something to do with the fact that he’s right there, in the next room. Additionally, I know he’s thinking about me. I sit there for a few minutes and let more tears fall as they may. But now he’s turned the water off and I know I only have a matter of seconds to regain my composure. I wipe my last tear away and tuck a stray strand of hair back as he opens the door. Steam rolls from the opening and he walks out with a towel tied dangerously low on his waist. It’s nothing I haven’t seen a thousand times before, but it’s still just as mouthwatering, again, this is not the time. He, of course, is unsurprised by my presence with his catlike reflexes. However, he is looking at me with a pain in his eyes I haven’t seen in years. I have never felt this responsible for his pain, and feeling it is horrible.

Finally, the silence is broken. “Hi,” he says after a few beats. Good. It’s good that he wants to talk. That’s step one. I can’t force this on him. “Hello Jace” I respond and I sound like a child confessing to their parents that they did eat the last cookie and the dog didn’t knock over Grandma’s vase. I want normal us so badly right now. “So… “ Jace says. “Yeah” is all I can say. How do I do this? “I’m going to get dressed,” he states. He walks over to his drawer to pull on sweats and a v neck as I stare at the counter. “I know what I did was wrong.” I begin. “I would take it back if I could, I would do almost anything in the world to take it back… but I can’t.” I look up to gauge his reaction, I can’t read him right now but I decide to continue. “I can say that I’m really, really sorry. I’ll never do anything like that again, I promise.” He’s looking me in the eye now which makes this nearly unbearable. I stand up from my barstool but remain across the room. “I know I hurt you,” my voice cracks. Goddammit, I’m crying now “And I know you don’t owe me forgiveness or anything, but I want you to know how very very sorry I am. Because I love you so much, Jace. If I had to set one goal for the rest of my life I would just want to never hurt you again.” After about a minute he breaks his silence. “You shouldn’t want that,” I look up at him confused “What on earth do you mean?” “I don’t want you to not hurt me, screw being hurt, I want you to love me! That’s what’s important here and it bothers me that you don’t see that. That you not only wanted to kiss another guy but then you did yeah that hurts Clary. That lack of love really f*cking hurts.” My jaw drops. How can he question my loyalty? I know I messed up but I can’t believe he said that. That that’s what he’s thought about how I feel for him for the last several hours. A fresh set of hot tears invade my already salty cheeks. “Jace, I’m sorry, I know I messed up but I can’t believe after all we’ve been through that you would ever think even for a second that I ever loved you even slightly less than all that is god damned humanly possible and then some! I mean we chased this demon after a meeting where we were planning our wedding where I couldn’t focus on what Izzy was saying about flowers because you had your hand on my thigh or I was thinking about how much I love you.” He scoffs which sends a salt spray into my metaphorical wound. “I’m sorry,” he says sardonically, “I didn’t realize you wanted to kiss a demon because you’re just so in love with me!” Now it finally clicks. I can’t believe I missed this the whole time! He even said it earlier. “Wait! You think that I wanted to kiss him because I was attracted???? To a demon???” Jace is unwavering, “what other explanation is there?!” I sit back down for this one. “I’m sorry I didn’t explain it earlier,” you sigh, “I didn’t even necessarily want to kiss him. I wanted to save him. I guess that was just how it manifested.” Jace blinks, “Clary you’ve been hunting for five years you know that we can’t save possessed humans. You should be used to this by now? I was sure you were.” I shake my head, “No, not because he was human. Because he… he reminded me so much of Jonathan.” Jace’s whole body stiffens and he stands up from the bed as if he’s trying to securely bodyguard me from across the room.

He gets it! Thank god I just didn’t know how to explain it. Thank god he understands.”I just wanted to save my brother, it was like I was back in that same moment three years ago. I- I’m going to go back to therapy,” I try to elaborate. Everything about Jace softens and he approaches me quickly but cautiously, gauging my reaction to his proximity. He takes me in his warm, strong arms, and everything in the world is fixed. I let out a few residual tears from the stress of tonight’s conversation. But I feel… whole again. He is rubbing my back and calming me and he smells like soap and I love this man. I could stay here forever. But he steps back and holds me away and studies me. “Clary, I owe you an apology.” he starts but instead of letting him continue I close the distance between us and kiss him. He pushes me away and tries again but I hold a finger up to his lips. “You don’t owe me anything! Ever. I’m still sorry for what I did. I put you in danger! And I should have explained.” “But!” he starts to say against my finger. “No! Jace. Thank you. Thank you for listening to me and understanding and still wanting to talk even when you were angry and for being… here” my voice cracks. “I’m so in love with you… and the same way we got through tonight is how we’re going to get through the rest of our lives.” His eyes light up as I say this and my heart does victory hurdles at the glorious sight. He kisses my hand, and up my arm, and my neck - which I giggle at -, finally across my jaw up to the corner of my mouth. “I am so completely addicted to you, Clary Fairchild-Wayland,” he says just before kissing my mouth. “Not quite yet mister!” I object and he smiles back at me. “Fine… Fairchild… for now,” he halfway concedes “but can we please never do that fighting thing again? I hated every second of not being able to think about how madly in love with you I am.” “Deal!” I grin back at him. Jace kisses me and I almost forget to come back up for air, he is so intoxicating. “Come to bed with me,” Jace whispers against my ear. And I am all too happy to oblige.

[rgr-pop]

where should i get started to figure out how to actually set up and decorate a home space?? (books, other resources?) i have no idea how to do it.

Hmmmm. I think the first step to designing any space is to live in the space without anything except for what you have and or what you absolutely need (you are moving with nearly no furniture, right? just moving out there in a car?). So then you can learn (possibly take notes if you are really serious) how you use space, what you are missing from every space, what you need the spaces to do for you, etc. (I think for the nature of your new life, you will want to consider, for example, how much you want or need your work to take space in your home.) I always recommend people do this before buying anything other than a thing to put your ass on and a second thing to put your drink on, but that’s just me! This is also a good time to reflect on what you liked or hated about what your setup was before. Some of these can be quick judgments: do you have absolutely nowhere to do kitchen prep? Are there rooms that get zero sunlight? No overhead light? Does a patch of floor need to be covered at any cost? But most of it you won’t figure out except with time, living in it, and that is why this is always a living process and not an event! (Making some assumptions about the status & condition of the place you’ll be renting, forgive me and I hope they pan out to be true for you 😬)

Take note of things that you have always wanted in your living space and whether they can be achieved in an easy way (for example, if you have always coveted yellow walls, just fucking do it, and if you absolutely cannot paint, do it with curtains and wall hangings). For me these things were things like: an in-closet shelf for shoes, dimmable lighting, bathroom drawers, a central decorative laundry hamper, extremely organized christmas storage, etc. Some of that has not been fulfilled but identifying how much it meant to me made the process clearer. Like, don’t invest yourself in a fantasy for no reason, but some ummm basic journaling can help you figure out what the roots of your desires or feelings of home inadequacy if you have them lol might be, and if the answer is “I just want a pink couch” then like…do it? Literally yolo.

The questions:

1. What are the tasks and activities you do in your home vs. wish to do in your home, and can you do them with what you have? Can you do them optimally? (Working [writing, grading, etc.], entertaining, cooking, BAKING, crafts and hobbies, tv watching, gardening, access to the windows for the cats, litter) (Wait: are you living alone?)

2. Where do things go? (Books, kitchen items, yarn, toiletries, clothes, laundry.) Is this system making it easier to locate your things when you need them, use them, and hide them when you’re not using them?

During this time you can figure out where the best places in your area are to get furnishings (one always has to get acquainted with a new thrift market)! (Look for habitat for humanity restores and university surplus.*) *Design tip: do your whole home in former university library furniture

Don’t read any bullshit that tells you rules about how to decorate or live until you know how you actually use your space and what you want! You will only get SOLD [things and ideologies], misled, shamed, lied to by Dwell… after that you deal with the nebulous problem of “inspiration” and “figuring out what you actually like aesthetically.” 

So the other part of that is looking at what you have actually brought with you and, well, you’ve surely already marikonned, right. But look at the decorating and furnishing items (as well as practical items ofc), live with them, and ask whether they are working for you or need eventual replacement (not buying a bunch of furniture you don’t need immediately is a good way to save money for idk replacing your cutting board, quilts and rugs). For decorative items or potentially decorative items (maybe art objects or ephemera that are special to you that you could frame and thus turn into “art,” for example), this is a time where you can let them tell you the aesthetic direction of your home! For example in my personal life, basically the whole visual story of my bedroom was gradually directed by two enameled salmon pieces (a lamp and a cigarette stand) that I’ve had for so long that they aren’t even my “style” per se, but I love them, and so I let them determine the way!

For you in particular I would suggest an aesthetic inspo quest that involves not looking at instagram and internet design sites (”pinterest,” as they say) but old magazines and primary sources, esp re: “lifestyle.” (A lot of the 70s high tech kind of stuff I look at now makes me really try to want to “decorate” my space in a way that would have been called “lifestyle” back then, even if for me it just means “what if I got table surfaces I can move around in different ways to accommodate my multiple craft hobbies,” etc.) Secondarily I recommend thrift shopping and, when finances allow, just buying the thing that moves you and figuring it out later. (I recommend this technique to everyone who has the liquid $20-100, it is the more utopian version of “settling for the ikea coffee table.”)

Figure out ASAP whether you can paint, etc. and whether you’d want to. As far as books? I mean I don’t really recommend any in particular because, again, Ideology. That’s why I like looking at older ones, because they expose the historical situatedness of interiors ideology!!

So short answer

1. A big move is an emotionally vulnerable time, do not let Apartment Therapy prey on that. Don’t read anything! Instead, look at old books and magazines and browse craigslist

2. Literally journal

3. Figure out your budget 

4. IKEA should be a last resort for absolutely anything except for those things you put plastic bags in, drawer organizers, recycling bins and maybe rugs (unfortunately rugs are just expensive everywhere but ikea). Unless you have 200 bottles of nail polish in which case the helmer is still the best option on the market. Don’t go to IKEA.

Not really what you were asking, lol :). Now once you tell me details about your space and collect notes on your vision, I can tell you sources that I trust to brainwash you the cool way and not the apartment therapy way (lbr am not above apartment therapy and have visited them a lot every time I moved into a new place) (it will make you feel bad about yourself)