#nonny i love you i pray for you every night and every day and every... *auntie rambling* *kisses forehead*

[savage-rhi]

I love your writing!!! You've inspired me to work on my own fics but I've been running into a lot of writers block lately, do you have any prompts or challenges that help you write?

Thank you for the pleasure of reading this hon. I think you made my neurons get off their lazy asses and deliver some dopamine. I have two braincells left and they're both fighting for third place, that's where I've been mentally.

Okay, onto helping people and ignoring my own bullshit!

Writers block...phew! It's a bitch! I myself am in one right now and none of my usual tricks are working, but I sincerely hope they help you out of a bind!

Pick a character from your story. Can be the protag, antag, etc. whoever you're vibing with, pick one and work with this prompt: if they had one last meal before they died, what would it be and why?

Seems simple enough, right? I want to assure you it's not. This is a prompt I use if I want to stay awake for days and run on two hours of sleep because I'm that hooked into a character. Also, I recommend this being the first question you ask any human being you meet because the responses will tell you A LOT about them as people, and if you want to fucks with that or hit the bricks.

Make a personality list for your characters. On the left side, write down a single word to describe a behavior or trait of theirs. On the right, you're going to find words that are the opposite of that trait. For example (cause I want an excuse to use a blorbo):

Ardyn Izunia Haughty -- Humble Seductive -- Off-putting Charismatic -- Unmannerly Flamboyant -- Modest Malicious -- Benevolent Cruel -- Merciful Mischief -- Polite

Once you have enough words to sum up your character (make this as long as you want), you can use this as a reference sheet to help stay in character all the while explore new situations with them that they've perhaps never experienced, or what we the audience haven't witnessed them go through. I also use this a lot when it comes to banter and when characters go through deeper emotions. Trait one is Point A, trait two, Point B and then I fill in the blanks on how to make them meet in the middle.

Consume the media that inspires your stories, characters, etc. If that means binging on fanfiction, go for it. Making fanart or looking at it? Yep. Sitting around doing nothing but daydreaming scenes you'll probably never write? Absolutely. Go at it for hours. Days. Months. Weeks. Years. You don't have to pick up or do anything but give mental energy to the thing you love. Even if you're not "active" like you want to be, you're still in the process of creating (at least that's what I keep telling myself when my inner perfectionist "if you're not productive you're bad!" persona comes out).

I have more ticks, but I am out of spoons. I hope these aid you well nonny, and know that I'm cheering you on through your block! We all get them, and it's important to remind ourselves we aren't machines (I fall into this trap all the time). You got this honey.

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Emotions | Sam Winchester x Angel!Fem!Reader

Pairing: Sam Winchester x Angel!Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5521

Warnings: mentions of drug addiction, mentions of smut (MDNI this is an 18+ blog), mentions of iffy family dynamics

A/N: For this nonnie! I have a very deep love of music and a special connection with it, and pretty much all of my one-shot fics are gonna be titled after songs. If you'd like to connect with the music as well, here's a few songs I recommend reading while you listen to the chapter!

Emotions by Brenda Lee

In the Still of the Night by the Five Satins

Angel of Small Death and the Codeine Scene by Hozier

Snow Angel by Renee Rapp

Queue up on Spotify or your preferred streaming service, and happy reading!

General Writings Masterlist

Humans were curious. The more time you spent with them, the more you couldn’t understand why your father loved them so much. However, one human was beginning to pique your interest. His name was Sam Winchester. 

Your brother Castiel had been charged with rescuing Sam’s brother, Dean, from Hell. However, Zachariah had not given the word to begin the mission just yet. You, though, were charged with the care of Sam Winchester. 

He became interesting for a number of reasons. The Winchester boys had been of special interest to all of Heaven since their mother died in Azazel’s attack. You’d known of his existence and watched from afar as the sweet, intelligent young man became a cold shell of who he once was while his brother suffered in Hell. The demon Ruby— who you would be sure to kill as soon as you could get your hands on her— had been getting Sam addicted to the potent substance that was demon’s blood. If you had to compare it to a human drug, you’d heard many angels say it felt like a heroin addiction. 

Despite your disinterest in most of humanity, you were more compassionate toward them than most of your brothers and sisters. While some, like Uriel, were ruthless in their method to get humans on their side, you always took a more “humane” approach. No matter how many times humanity had broken your heart through their horrible mistakes leading to death and destruction, you still tried to show each human compassion. 

You watched from afar as Sam began to learn to exorcize demons with his mind. The experience was undoubtedly painful, and your anger with Ruby grew with each passing day. Always keeping your distance, though, because you knew now was not the right time to step in. Zachariah would give you the word when it was. 

You followed Sam down a darkened, busy street, keeping just far enough back that he wouldn’t be able to see you. He turned the corner onto what you assumed was another street, and you foolishly followed. Suddenly, you were pinned to the wall with a demon’s knife at your throat and an angry Sam staring down at you. 

“Who the hell are you?” the man spat, pressing the tip of the weapon into your throat forcefully. “Why are you following me?”

“Hello, Sam,” you said calmly. “My name is (Y/N). I’m here to help you.”

He scoffed. “What? Another demon coming to peddle your wares? I don’t think so.” The brunet stepped away from you and tried to exorcize you with his powers. 

You just remained still, large doe-eyes looking at him with a small smile playing on your lips. 

Sam then appeared scared. “What— What are you?”

“I’m an angel,” you replied evenly.

He laughed. “Right. C’mon, what are you really?”

You unfurled your large, beautiful wings and called upon a clap of thunder to ensure the shadow would be cast on the wall behind you. “I told you. I’m an angel.”

Sam shook his head. “I don’t believe this.”

“What’s wrong?” you asked. “Why are you angry?”

He spun around to face you. “Why am I angry? My brother’s been dragged to Hell, and you’re asking me why I’m angry?”

You continued to look at him in confusion. 

“I prayed. Every day for the last year Dean was alive. Why didn’t one of you answer?” he finished.

“It wasn’t the right time,” you explained. “Father wouldn’t allow us.”

“Well, fuck all of you guys, then,” Sam spat.

You were intrigued and confused by his intense anger. “Your prayers are being answered now. Isn’t that all that matters?”

“Too little, too late,” he replied. “Now, leave me alone.”

You stared after him as he walked away. Didn’t he want your help? Why was he angry at you when you were simply obeying your father? His prayers were being answered, and he was cruel to you.

That should have enraged you. However, it only intrigued you even more.

***

You knew Sam had not told Ruby he’d seen you, which surprised you. Everything about this man was surprising you.

While his addiction to demon blood was horrific and disgusting to you, you were surprised how much… empathy, you believed the feeling was— you were starting to feel for him. He’d undoubtedly been manipulated by the demon into that state of being.

His incredible strength both physically and mentally was impressive. While he wouldn’t last a moment in a fight with you or any of your brothers and sisters, he was skilled in many different athletic pursuits. His interest in different philosophies was curious to you as well; most humans you'd come across were set in their ways with no interest in different points of view.

After your last conversation with him, you decided not to intervene unless he desperately needed you. And now, he desperately needed you.

Ruby had either knowingly or unknowingly sent him into a death trap. While Ruby conveyed she believed only two demons to be hiding in a warehouse, an entire lair of at least thirty laid in wait for the young man. You knew you’d have to get involved this time, no matter if Zachariah approved or not.

You watched from the skylights of the darkened warehouse as Sam crept around with Ruby following closely behind. Your father willing, you’d slit her throat with her own knife.

You could see the other demons beginning to creep in around Ruby and Sam. Sam was the first to notice something was wrong and spun around to face the demons behind Ruby.

You used your powers to appear behind a wire rack covered with boxes to have the element of surprise with the demons.

“Hey there, handsome,” one of the demons was telling Sam.

Another snarled, “And Ruby. I thought Lilith got rid of you.”

“Apparently, she didn’t do a very good job,” replied Ruby.

The demons had Sam and Ruby back to back as they closed in their circle around the two.

Taking out your blade, you stepped out into the dim light, heels clicking across the floor. All of the demons turned around to face you, as did Sam and Ruby.

“Wow, Ruby. Seriously? You’re working with an angel?” a demon snickered.

You didn’t allow any of the demons a chance to get another word in. You appeared behind the demon who had the nerve to speak up and plunged your blade through its vessel’s back.

A few of the demons tried to escape by fleeing their bodies, but you forced them back in. While you were compassionate, merciful would not be a word used to describe you. When you were crossed, you didn’t play nicely. 

A few demons tried to charge you, and you immediately reached out to two, grabbed their hands, and killed them while you used your free arm to plunge your blade through the other’s chest. With, in all honesty, very little effort, you managed to make your way through most of the demons. With the mess of dead bodies sprawled across the concrete floor, it made it easier to see what was left for you to deal with. That was when you noticed Ruby was gone, but Sam was still there, fighting demons with his demon knife. 

A demon behind Sam was preparing to stab him in the back, but you threw your angel blade through the demon’s throat just in time to save Sam. 

Slowly but surely, you made your way through the remaining demons. Sam panted from exhaustion and the few wounds he’d sustained but still stood with his shoulders squared. “I didn’t need saving,” he huffed.

“I don’t mean to offend you, but yes, you did,” you replied evenly. “I will admit, I’m disappointed your demon friend left so soon. I was looking forward to formally introducing myself.” 

Sam laughed, somewhere between mocking and a genuine laugh. “You were gonna kill her, weren’t you?”

“Without hesitation,” you nodded. “I know what she’s been doing, Sam. I know what you’ve been doing.” 

“I really don’t think that’s any of your business,” he said, his voice cold. 

“It is my business.”

“How?”

“Angels are only sent to earth for their missions; unless they’ve fallen,” you explained. “Like I told you before, you’re my mission.”

“And like I told you,” he sneered, “not interested.”

“I don’t understand,” you stated. “Isn’t this what you wanted? I’m answering your prayer. I thought you’d be happy.” 

“I told you; too little, too late—!”

“I’m not talking about the prayers for your brother anymore, Sam,” you cut him off. “I’m talking about your prayers for yourself.”

That seemed to quiet him down.

“I heard you. The first night you drank demon’s blood, you prayed. That was when I was assigned to you,” you told him. “Some of the angels believed you were too far gone. I, however, was the one to ask my superior if I could help you.” 

Tears welled in Sam’s eyes. “Why would you do that? Why wouldn’t you save Dean?” 

“I wanted to,” you admitted, not quite understanding why you were spilling your secrets to a human.

He got angry again. “Why didn't you?!”

You tilted your head, eyebrows furrowing. “It is not my place to question my superiors. I serve Heaven first; not you.”

“Well, find some other way to serve Heaven. I’m not interested,” he grumbled, turning away. You noticed how painfully he rolled his shoulder.

“I can fix that for you,” you said, stopping him in his tracks. 

“What?” Sam turned back around.

“Your arm.” You nodded in its direction. “And those gashes. They look like they’ll get infected if you don’t let me help you.” You stepped toward him, and he remained still.

His impressive stature was incredibly intimidating to you despite your angelic status. You had never felt such a feeling; only when you were in the presence of the archangels. Whatever this feeling was, you didn’t think you liked it.

“May I?” you asked, hesitantly reaching your fingers out toward his arm. 

Sam nodded, face drawn into hard lines.

You closed your eyes as you touched his shoulder to concentrate on sending your healing powers through his body. You didn’t miss the way his muscles tensed momentarily before relaxing under your touch. 

“Thank you,” he said. 

You nodded. 

Sam hesitated for a moment before asking, “ What’d you say your name was?”

“(Y/N),” you responded.

***

You watched through the window of the cabin he was hiding in as Sam fought with Ruby over you. You expected Ruby to be angry, but you didn’t expect Sam to defend you. 

“She’s an angel, Ruby, she’s not here to hurt me,” Sam said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“You don’t know angels, Sam. I do. They’re not the peaceful hippies the Bible makes them out to be,” Ruby snapped. “If she knew I was helping you, she’d probably smite me.”

“She does know,” Sam replied, almost too quietly for even your enhanced hearing. 

“What?! You told her?!”

“No, I didn’t, I—” Sam cut himself off, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “She just knew, somehow.” 

Ruby clearly didn’t believe him. “Somehow,” she scoffed. “And somehow, I don’t believe you.”

“Whatever,” Sam huffed. He suddenly caught your eye in the window but covered it up by quickly looking back to Ruby. “I think you should go.”

She crossed her arms. “Seriously?” The demon rolled her eyes and began to walk toward the door. “Goodbye, Sam.”

You invited yourself into the room. “Is she gone?” you asked Sam, appearing in front of him.

“Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, she’s gone.”

“Your motivations confuse me, Sam Winchester,” you stated bluntly.

He seemed to chuckle genuinely. “Why?”

“Do you not believe Ruby to be helping you? It seemed you couldn’t stand the sight of me less than twenty-four hours ago. Why would you kick her out after all that and cover for me?” you asked, head tilting in confusion.

You knew you weren’t supposed to question. You knew Sam was simply an assignment; there should be no desire for further questions exchanged. However, a nagging force in the back of your mind refused to let those questions remain internal.

“I don’t know,” he responded, seemingly earnest. 

Suddenly, a song began to play in the background. Your head turned to the source of the sound; a peculiar little box with a spinning disc on top of it. You swayed to the soft music emanating from it. “What is this?” you asked.

“Music,” Sam replied from behind you.

You turned to face him. “I know what music is, Sam. What is the little box?”

“A record player,” he replied, much closer to you than he had been when you first turned to the sound of the music.

“And what is this song?” you asked, dewey eyes shining in the dim light.

“Uh, one of the records they had in this old cabin. I think the band’s The Five Satins. ‘In the Still of the Night’,” he explained.

“I think I like this song,” you said, your voice taking on a peculiar lilt you’d never heard yourself speak with before. You suddenly realized how close Sam was to you and backed away. “Well, if you need anything,” you began, “I am never far from you.” And with that, you were gone.

***

“(Y/N)?” you heard Sam praying. “(Y/N), uh, I don’t know if you’re listening—”

With a quick flap of your wings, you appeared in front of Sam in his cabin. “I am,” you replied. 

“Oh, hey,” he snorted. He sat on the edge of his bed, rubbing his hands together and staring at the floor.

“What’s wrong?” you asked. 

“I don’t know what the right thing to do anymore is,” he admitted. Sam was suddenly embarrassed by what he’d said. “Uh, I don’t know why I said that…”

“Do not be embarrassed. I do not pass judgment on humans for their feelings,” you replied. 

That pulled a small smile from him. “Do you guys… not have feelings?”

“No,” you replied. “At least, I don’t think we do. Or, perhaps, what we experience as angels is too complex to be simplified into human emotion.”

“What do you mean?” he asked. 

“I believe I may experience compassion, but I am not merciful. Those two traits I have seen go together in human manifestations. My loyalty to my father is incomparable to any human form of loyalty. Most humans I have come across sacrifice their loyalties quite easily,” you explained thoughtfully. 

“And by your father, you mean, God?” he asked. 

You nodded. 

Sam hesitated before asking his next question. “What’s he like?”

His question caught you off-guard; it wasn’t something you’d thought about before. “Well, humans describe him as—”

Sam shook his head. “I know what people make him out to be. What do you say?”

That question startled you even more, and all you could answer with was the truth. “I haven’t met him.”

Now, it was Sam’s turn to be caught off-guard. “Really?”

You nodded. “I’ve been around just about as long as the planet, and I’ve never met him once.”

Sam considered for a moment. “And you’re still loyal to him?”

“Well, I don’t necessarily have a choice in that matter,” you replied. “I am an angel. I was created for the purpose of my loyalty to my father and carrying out his missions.” His questions were beginning to get under your skin, and you’d never thought so long about those things before. 

“Well, how do you know your orders come from him if you’ve never met the guy?” Sam continued to press. “How do you know somebody’s not lying to—”

“My brothers and sisters would never lie to me,” you cut him off. Perhaps this is what “offense” felt like? “I don’t believe lying to be something we are capable of.”

Sam took a deep breath and flexed his eyebrows. “Whoa, didn’t mean to strike a nerve, there.”

He did. “You didn’t,” you responded. 

A spell of silence was cast over you. 

“What’s it like?” Sam asked. 

You tilted your head in confusion. 

“That blind faith,” he embellished. “How do you do it?”

You shook your head. “I don’t know. I just always have. I am a Seraph; I believe ‘blind faith’ is my purpose.”

“Oh, seraphim’s a real thing? Are you guys the, uh, high-rankers?”

You nodded. “I don’t think of myself in terms of my rank, but I am superior to those in my garrison. My superior is Zachariah; the only one of us in direct communication with the archangels.” You felt yourself snap out of it. “I… don’t know why I told you that.”

“Well, I guess we’re even then,” Sam smiled. 

***

You began to see less and less of Ruby as days went by, and for that, you were grateful. It seemed she was only around for Sam to feed from her.

“What does she say the demon blood will do for you?” you asked Sam, sitting beside him on the edge of the cabin’s roof.

Sam gave you a curious look but answered your question anyway. “It’ll make me strong enough to kill Lilith.”

“And… why do you want to do that?” you asked trepidatiously. 

He answered your question quite blankly, staring ahead. “Revenge. For my brother.”

You nodded. “And what do you believe getting revenge will do for you?”

That seemed to challenge him. “I don’t know.”

“I have been with you since you were young, Sam. I watched you go off to college, I watched Azazel kill Jessica, and I watched every fight between you and your father.”

Sam turned his head toward you as you talked, a pensive look on his face. 

“And I think I decided that all of those fights between you two happened because of how similar the two of you are.” You turned your head toward him, the sunset casting a heavenly glow across Sam’s face. “This is one of those things you two have in common; vengeance. I cannot decide if that’s a good or a bad quality, if I’m honest.”

Sam huffed out a small laugh. “That’s fair.” His hair fell in front of his eyes as he looked down at his hands folded in his lap. His eyebrows drew together, and you just watched him carefully. “You’ve never wanted payback? Not even once?”

You shook your head. “That’s not part of my job. I am a warrior, but I don’t feel emotional attachment to my fights. And, rationally, I know revenge is pointless. It doesn’t change the past. It can only make for a worse future.”

Sam was silent for a moment. “Wow. For a… shiny, hard, plastic, emotionless angel, that’s pretty profound.”

You tilted your head in confusion. “I am not plastic or shiny.”

He laughed. “No, you’re not. Just an analogy.”

“You humans and your words,” you sighed. “The English language is by far the most confusing.”

“Why do you say that?” Sam chuckled. 

“I speak every language ever created, Sam,” you explained. “Even Enochian is simpler than English.”

The young man laughed. “For an angel, you’ve got a good sense of humor.”

You tilted your head. “I didn’t know I did, but thank you.”

***

It had been about three months since Dean’s sentencing. The angels began to talk about how he’d said “yes” to Alistair and was beginning to torture other souls in the pit. However, you knew it was best not to bring that fact up to Sam. 

The brother in your care was still not doing very well. His addiction was getting worse, and his anger at himself for not being strong enough to take care of his most recent demon hunt. You watched through the window as Sam and Ruby shouted at each other, and their anger eventually devolved into Ruby kissing Sam. 

You were stunned, and something you’d never felt before flooded your chest. Whatever this feeling was, you hated it. You backed away from the window you’d become accustomed to staring through and walked off. You felt your vessel stumbling rather than walking, and you were unsure why your chest hurt. You stumbled through the night forward against a tree and held yourself there. 

Whatever was happening to you, one thing was for sure that you could no longer deny: you were beginning to feel.

***

A few days went by, and you hadn’t seen Sam. In fact, you refused to answer his many prayers. He begged you to come to him and told you he didn’t know what he’d done wrong. Eventually, your resolve broke. 

“Hey,” he said, standing from his chair and seeming startled by your appearance. “Wh— Where’d you go? Why didn’t you answer?”

“Why did you have sex with Ruby? Didn’t you know I was watching?” you asked, large eyes holding a pleading innocence. 

Sam seemed caught off-guard. “(Y/N), I haven’t had sex with her in weeks. Wh— Why do you care about that, anyway?”

“I saw you two. She kissed you. I know what comes after that, Sam, I’ve been around for thousands of years,” you continued. 

Sam shook his head. “She kissed me. And then, I pushed her off. I haven’t seen her since.”

You tilted your head. “Why did you do that?”

“ ‘Cause. I couldn’t do it,” he shrugged. 

“Why?”

“ I’m not into voyeurism,” he smirked. “I knew you were watching. I haven’t had sex with her since you showed up.”

You thought for a moment, realizing he was telling the truth. “Oh.” Was this feeling… relief?

Sam gave you a curious look, and you averted his gaze. “Why’d you wanna know?”

You shook your head. “Not important. How have you been these last few days?”

“Honestly?” He scratched the back of his neck. “Not good. The addiction… it’s, uh—”

“Bad?” you asked. 

“That’s putting it lightly.”

“I’m sorry,” you told him. 

“ ‘S not your fault,” Sam shrugged. 

“That is much different from what you told me when we first met,” you said. 

Sam snorted. “Yeah, I was angry then. Now, I know you.”

Your heart fluttered in your chest, and you were surprised at the feeling. 

***

You hummed the tune of “In the Still of the Night” by the Five Satins, a song that Sam had introduced to you. 

The man in question sat at the cabin’s kitchen table hunched over his laptop. Sam had suggested you come inside with him since you’d be keeping an eye on him anyway. You told him if Ruby came, you’d kill her, but he just shook his head. “If she knows you’re here, she’s not coming,” he’d told you. 

“You’ve got a pretty voice,” Sam commented. 

You stopped humming. “Thank you. When the cherubs in my garrison were young, they liked when I’d sing to them.” You resumed your song. 

A few minutes went by before Sam spoke up. “Can I ask you something?” 

You stopped humming again and nodded. 

“Why haven’t you gone after Ruby yet?”

Before you could think, you answered, “Because I knew it would upset you.”

A small smile tugged at the corners of Sam’s lips. “I appreciate that.”

You smiled in response. 

“That’s the first time I’ve seen you smile,” Sam told you. 

You continued to stare at him with your dewey doe eyes. 

“Can I ask you something else?” 

You nodded again.

“Whose body are you in?” he asked. 

You hummed as you thought. “I’ve been with her for centuries. She was being abused by her husband and begging for a way out. You see, angels have to get consent from their vessels. She wanted me to use her body to carry out my father’s mission.”

Sam nodded. 

“I quite enjoyed her company,” you continued. “I’ve never told any of my brothers or sister about this, but the day her soul moved on was the first time I ever felt something like… sadness.”

“So, angels, is it like demons where the vessel’s soul takes a back seat?” Sam questioned, his interest seeming very genuine. 

You shook your head. “Not with her, it wasn’t. She could force me out whenever she wanted, but she told me she preferred my company to that of her husband’s.”

Sam nodded but seemed pensive. 

“What’s wrong?” you asked.

“Nothing,” he replied. “It’s just… It’s a lot to take in.”

“I can understand that.” You paused for a moment. “I don’t think I’ve ever spent this long in the company of a human; aside from my vessel.”

“Really?” Sam asked.

You nodded. “I was taught not to spend time with the humans I was charged with. We were always told that the more time you spend with them, the more you become like them. And if you’re a human, you are flawed. You can’t  truly live in service of my father while human.” 

“That sounds kinda fucked up though, (Y/N),” Sam told you. “I mean, don’t you think it’s… restrictive? Limiting?”

You considered. “I guess so. But… I’m sure my father had good reason. He wouldn’t try to hurt us.” 

“I don’t think he would, either,” Sam told you. “But I do think he did that for self-serving reasons.”

You stared at him, waiting for him to elaborate. 

“He creates these… beings— you and the other angels— to bend to his every whim. Think about it. He makes you emotionless, so you don’t question his ‘will’ or… rebel,” Sam explained. “He needs you to be perfectly loyal.”

Sam’s words swirled around in your head. “You’re confusing me,” you said, breath quickening.

Sam shook his head. “I’m not trying to. But you’re smart. I’m just trying to make you think.”

“No human has ever challenged me the way you have,” you responded. “I appreciate it.”

“You do?” He seemed genuinely surprised.

You nodded. “I’ve been around a very long time. Things can get monotonous. It is… refreshing to meet someone like you.”

The corners of Sam’s lips turned upward.

The two of you went back to silence, and suddenly, Sam was up and running to the bathroom.

“Sam?” you asked, running after him.

When you got to him, he was hunched over the toilet bowl vomiting. 

Hesitantly, you reached toward him and began to rub small circles over his back. You remembered your vessel telling you that’s what she’d do to her children when they were sick. 

“It’s okay,” you said softly. “I’m here.”

When Sam was done, he slumped to the floor, curling up into a ball. Sweat covered every inch of his body, and he began to shake feverishly.

You knew it was the withdrawals from the blood after not seeing Ruby for days. You wanted nothing more than to help him through it, but your healing powers couldn’t assist with demonic workings of any kind. What you could do, though, is put him to sleep. You ran your hand over his hair and got up from the floor.

After grabbing a blanket off his bed, you brought it back to the bathroom and sat back down beside him. When you’d tossed the blanket over him, you helped Sam rest his head on your lap. Then, you went back to running your hand over the brunet’s hair and used your powers to put him to sleep. His shaking subsided, and his breathing relaxed. You stayed with him through the rest of the night.

***

When Sam woke up laying against you, he immediately seemed embarrassed. He jerked back from you. “Oh, uh, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—”

“It’s okay,” you said. “It’s what I’m here for.”

Sam leaned forward hesitantly. He kept pausing as his face got closer to yours, seemingly to ensure you weren’t uncomfortable.

Uncomfortable wasn’t quite the word you’d use; there were a million thoughts running through your mind. And yet, you couldn’t string one coherent sentence together. 

You tilted your chin up, and it was all the confirmation Sam needed. His kiss was gentle when he first connected your lips. You responded, almost completely frozen, but still moving your lips in time with his.

Sam’s kiss got more desperate, and he pulled you across his lap, wrapping his large hands around your hips and back. 

And then, he was gone. You were confused only momentarily as you became aware of Zachariah’s presence in front of you.

“I know what you’ve been doing, (Y/N),” Zachariah chastised. 

You hung your head in shame. “I’m sorry, Zachariah. I let myself get too close to Sam Winchester, and—”

Zachariah cut you off. “Yes. You did. I’m disappointed in you.” He stalked around you, his multiple sets of wings encircling and taunting you. “You were one of my best, (Y/N). And now, I’m going to have to let you go.”

Your eyes widened, and you looked up at your superior. “Wait, please! I’m sorry!”

He patted your cheek. “I know you are. But you turned your back on us, (Y/N). You turned your back on our father.”

Tears welled in your eyes. 

“Ah! That. That, right there.” He caught the tear on his first finger as it slipped down your cheek. “Feeling. Feelings are human. You’ve changed, my dear sister.” 

“I’m sorry,” you cried softly. 

“I told you that Sam Winchester is a lost cause. I knew something like this would happen, but you? You didn’t listen. Goodbye, sister.”

And with that, you were sent barreling down to earth. The fall was incredibly painful; your wings feeling like they were being burnt off your body, each feather leaving ripples of searing heat in its wake. 

Nothing could stop you barreling toward the earth. The speed of your fall began to take a toll on you, and your vision faded to black. 

***

You woke up flat on your back in the middle of nowhere. Your limbs ached, and your vessel’s body was undoubtedly broken. Using your weakened powers, you healed your body enough to be able to stand. When you’d gotten your wits about you, you would heal yourself completely. 

You walked through the woods you’d landed in the middle of. The morning sun was still rising, the birds chirped, and light streamed through the trees. All at once, the reality of your situation hit you, and you cried.

You cried for your brothers and sisters you’d never see again; very few ever came to earth. You weren’t sure how you’d get to Sam without your wings, but you needed to see him. This feeling of need was still foreign to you, and you couldn’t decide if you liked how it felt.

All that time you’d spent in service of Heaven and of your father, and you were cast out as if you didn’t matter at all. You knew getting so close was wrong, but you hadn’t expected such harsh treatment. In all your years of being alive, you had never made a mistake. And after just one, you were kicked out? 

On the other hand, though, crying was freeing. Maybe Sam was right. Why would your father restrict you from feeling?

For a moment, the world was quiet. All you could hear was your soft sniffles, the birds chirping, and the wind rustling the leaves of the trees. You took a deep breath, and for the first time, life felt beautiful.

***

Sam was praying to you, and you had no way of responding to him. Slowly but surely, you were making your way back to him. You could feel his soul calling to you, and it only spurred you on to continue walking. As an angel, you had no need for sleep or eating. And so, you walked continuously for five days; each step making Sam’s essence grow stronger. You could feel yourself getting closer to him.

“Hey, (Y/N)?” you heard Sam calling to you. “I don’t know if you’re even still listening to me, but I’m sorry for scaring you off. I— I shouldn’t have done what I did. Just… come back. Please.”

It broke your heart that you couldn’t get to him sooner, and you mentally begged him to wait for you. 

And finally, on the sixth day, you found Sam’s cabin. Joy and relief flooded your chest, and you smiled widely. You ran through the front door, and Sam jerked out of his chair with his gun in hand. When he realized who you were, he dropped his gun to the floor in surprise. “(Y/N)?”

“Hello, Sam,” you smiled, tears rimming your eyes.

“Wh— What happened? Why’d you leave?” he asked.

“I didn’t. Zachariah brought me back to Heaven, and… he took my wings,” you explained, looking down at your shoes. 

Sam’s confused and angry stare turned to his familiar puppy-dog-eyed stare. “What, why?” 

“I’m a fallen angel now. I betrayed Heaven,” you responded.

“By doing what?” he asked. “I kissed you, you didn’t do anything.”

“Yes, I did,” you assured him, stepping closer to him. “I started to feel. And… feel for you.”

Sam’s soft gaze flooded your chest with warmth. He used his first two fingers to tilt your chin up toward his and closed the space between your lips. 

You and Sam weren’t perfect in any sense. But you would take whatever you two were over your shiny, hard, plastic, emotionless past. 

Forever taglist is open; series rewrite taglist is closed!

[mickeyswhore]

Jealous of Him

Request: hi!! can i request jealous tommy shelby x best friend reader? nsfw is possible as well 💗💗 ps, i love ur writing

A/N: Thank you so much, Nonnie. I hope you enjoy this because it was great writing it. 🥰

Summary: When Tommy comes back from the war, he finds out that you're no longer single, he does not appreciate it at all.

Thomas Shelby x Reader

Warnings: angst, fluff

Your father has been friends with the Shelbys for years, you are five years younger than Tommy but that didn't stop the two of you from becoming friends. The only problem in your life? You are irrevocably in love with Thomas Shelby, and he doesn’t know, in fact he has referred to you as his ‘sister’ way too many times.

But you care about Tommy, if he found love with someone that wasn’t you, that relationship would be supported by you. Your father knew that you were in love with the Shelby brother but he tries not to intervene, the best he can do is incentivise you to find a boyfriend.

When the war came, you were the first person Thomas went to tell that he was getting drafted. You cried with him and he slept in your bedroom before leaving you without saying goodbye, that hurt way more than when you used to see Tommy with a woman, he left without saying goodbye. But that wasn’t the worst part, you sent letters as much as you could but Thomas never replied to any of them, you asked Polly if he wrote, she said that he did but nothing for you.

You were devastated, Thomas fully erased you from his life and you had no idea why. For months you were depressed and your father was worried about you, so he incentivised you to go out with your girlfriends to make you forget about Thomas but it was useless, as soon as you came home, you were still writing him letters hoping that he would finally reply, but he never did. Your father was on a mission now, finding you a boyfriend so you could put Thomas behind you as quick as possible. But he didn't have to do much, you found someone on your own.

You were walking back home from buying groceries, the bag was heavy but you kept walking.

“Miss, allow me to help please.” The man was much taller than you, he had dirty blonde hair and green eyes. You allowed him to take the bags and you smiled at him. “It would be a sin to allow a pretty lady like you to struggle with a heavy bag.” The two of you smiled and looked down, you were embarrassed by his comment and he was happy about the fact that he made you smile. “My name is Matthew, let me walk you home.” You nodded, and you introduced yourself.

“Thank you, Matthew.” That is how your relationship with Matthew has started.

It did wonders to your mental health, you finally stopped crying for Thomas and writing him letters. You found out that Matthew had one leg bigger than the other and that is why he wasn’t in the war. He made you smile, he was an orphan but he had a good job as a solicitor and his own home outside of the city. Matthew and your father got along very well, Matthew came to your house almost every day to have dinner with the two of you. He often says that he prefers to be in your apartment rather than his empty home.

Matthew was a godsend in your life, everyday you wake up and you thank God that he showed up in your life, but of course your feelings for Thomas didn't go away, they simply went dormant, but you were not concerned about that now.

-----------------------------------------

The war was over.

You were so happy that bloodshed was over, that all the men got to come home and move on with their lives. You had no idea what happened with Tommy and his brothers but you prayed for them every night that they got home alright. You and Matthew have been dating for six months, and everything was going great but now you knew that sooner or later you’d have to see Tommy again and made your heart skip a beat, you thought that you were over him but perhaps not.

You decided to go on about your day, try to forget the fact that Tommy was back. Matthew was coming to dinner today, so you decided to focus on that. You were making a roast dinner, it was Matthew’s favourite and you loved doing it. Things weren’t going your way, you were messing up the recipe, and having to start over but you had plenty of time. But the night that Tommy left was in the forefront of your mind, you wanted an explanation of why he cut you off his life completely. 

The desert was almost finished when you heard someone at the door, you hoped that it wasn’t Matthew, you wanted to shower and get changed before seeing him. When you opened the door you were speechless, Tommy was right in front of you, after all these years. His whole demeanor was different, it looked as if he was a completely different man.

“What you’re doing here?” You didn't want sound so rude, but you were. He left and didn't even reply to a single letter and now he wants to waltz in your life?

“I wanted to see you.” His voice sent shivers down your spine, you hated the fact that he had that much effect on you when he basically abandoned you all those years ago. “May I come in?” You allowed him to enter and he had a smile on his face, and you hated it.

“Why do you want to see me?” You crossed your arms, you were fighting the urge to hug Tommy and he definitely noticed that. “You left that night without saying goodbye, you didn't reply to any of my letters, you made yourself pretty clear that you do not care about me, Thomas.” Ouch, Thomas…he visibly winced at you using his name, and not Tommy.

“I thought that I was going to die, I didn't want to make you even sadder.” You rolled your eyes, that was the worst excuse you could ever hear.

“You’d think that I wouldn’t mourn you if you died?” You yelled at him, and Tommy looked down.

You heard the door opening and it was your father, he looked surprised to see Tommy here.

“Tommy, you’re back.” Your father hugged him and Tommy hugged your father back. “Are you staying for dinner? I’m sure that Matthew won’t mind, will he sweetheart?” Thomas looked at you, and the only thing that was in his eyes were jealousy.

“Who’s Matthew?” He tried to hide his anger, he had no right to be jealous but he didn't care.

“My boyfriend.” You whispered, it felt as if you were embarrassed about your relationship.

“He is great, Tommy. You’ll meet him.” Your father patted him on the back and he simply nodded.

What you didn't know is that Thomas was madly in love with you, he was just too much of a pussy to admit it and now he lost you. But he wasn’t going to take this lying down, he was going to have you.

“May I speak with you in private, love?” He whispered to you and you simply nodded, and he followed you to your bedroom.

“What do you…” Tommy didn't let you finish your question.

“I love you, I’ve loved you from the first moment I’ve ever saw you.” You were speechless, but you were so angry at him.

“How could you say that? You abandoned me and now you’re jealous?” The two of you were getting closer and closer.

“I am jealous, because I’ve loved you all my life and now you’re with someone that’s not me.” Both of your breathing was hard, the two of you were looking into each other’s eyes. 

He finally kissed you, and you kissed him back. His hand went to your hair and your arms went around his neck, your heart was bursting and the it felt as if everything was right in the world.

“Don’t be with him, be with me. Please?” Thomas asked you, what you were going to do now?

[hyunverse]

single parents club ★彡 bang chan

bang chan x fem!reader

about — in which you stumble across a fellow single parent on a shopping trip.

word count — 1545 words.

warnings — feminine nouns used for reader.

note — thank you sooooooo much for requesting nonnie, and thank you for the patience!

Saturdays are one of Chan’s favourite days. For many reasons. 

One, the coffee shop down his block — Stanco Cafe offers 10% off on coffee every Saturday from 8 am to 10 am. 

Two, there is no traffic on Saturday mornings. 

Three, it’s his outing day with his daughter. Ever since Aera was three, it has been a routine for them to have a father-daughter day out every Saturday. 

Chan absolutely adores his Saturdays with Aera. Especially with the reality that Aera was getting older — the little baby who used to fit in his arms is now a four-year-old girl capable of buttoning her own clothes. He loves how Aera would go on and on about how her week went in kindergarten, with chocolate ice cream residue on her cheek. She would babble about how Uncle Felix and Uncle Hyunjin made fun of her new haircut the whole week, and how Uncle Jeongin sucks at tying her hair. Chan loves everything and anything about his Saturdays, it’s that one day he would cherish and feel light-hearted all day. 

It’s a Saturday again. Somehow, Aera had successfully convinced Chan into going shopping again. For three weeks straight Aera had consistently asked to go shopping — in which Chan sighed about, saying that his baby girl was getting older. Old enough to want to go on endless shopping trips. Aera had rolled her eyes and said, “of course I’m getting older! I can’t get younger!” The man swore to god that he needed to stop letting Hyunjin babysit his daughter. The sass was sticking to her. 

Aera’s in the fitting room alone, with Chan standing outside, leaning on the oak door. The moment the pair stepped into Oshkosh, Aera managed to grab multiple items (mostly pink and ruffle-y) in a few minutes to try on. The little girl with pigtails insisted on going into the fitting room alone, saying that she knew how to dress herself up. Hearing her words honestly made Chan feel like crying, in disbelief that his little princess was growing up so fast. He swore just a few weeks ago he would have to wake up in the midst of the night due to her loud cries. Nevertheless, he let Aera have her own fun, telling her that she could go into the fitting room by herself, under the condition that he would stay right outside the whole time. 

The moment you step into the store, you could tell that it was going to be a rough shopping session. The lights are much too bright for the grumpy one-year-old boy in the stroller. You sigh — it’s not like you wanted to go shopping, not with a baby of course — but you had no choice. The babysitter you trust wasn’t available, and Haru was outgrowing his clothes quickly. You needed new clothes for him quickly, and so you prayed the little boy would cooperate. 

“Give mommy a few minutes, okay baby,” you mumble, peeking into the hooded stroller, “we’ll go home right after I finish buying you new clothes.”

You only got ten minutes of silence. 

A loud cry interrupts your shopping session. You breathe in a heavy breath, looking around in embarrassment. Haru lets out loud sobs, eyes shut as he wails. You stop beside a rack close to the fitting rooms, quick to carry your son into your arms. Assurances slip past your lips as a way to comfort the little boy, your hand feeling his diapers in case it’s full. It isn’t. It’s not Haru’s feeding time either — so it’s fair to say that you have no clue as to why he’s being grumpy. 

You sigh in desperation, “come on Haru. . . work with mommy here. What’s wrong, hm, baby?” you say, knowing full well you won’t get a response in return. 

It takes a few minutes of witnessing your frustration until Chan goes over. His eyes are glinting with sincerity and slight concern. 

“Hey,” he greets you, offering a warm dimpled smile, “you alright?”  

You feel your head shake before you could fully process what to reply, “uh, not really. My son’s a little grumpy today.” 

“Oh,” he nods, “um. May I?”

Chan extends his hands towards you, offering to take Haru from your arms. See, if it was any other man, you probably would’ve turned the other way but something about the man standing in front of you made you feel safe and trusting. After only a second of hesitation, you pass your crying son towards him. He rocks the crying baby in his buff arms, humming melodic tunes.

“I think he’s feeling a little hot,” he says, placing Haru back into the stroller, “wait a minute.”

Curiously, you watch the unknown man reach into his backpack, gaining even more curious when he takes out a white portable fan. He clips it onto the handle of the stroller, eyebrows furrowed as he adjusts the wind level. 

“Okay, I think this is the right setting,” he mumbles, patting your (now calmed down) baby. 

To say that you’re impressed would be an understatement. 

“You can take the fan, it comes in really handy sometimes. It’s an extra one I happen to have, so I really don’t mind,” he looks up, so you could finally truly look at his face.

Oh.

He’s mesmerizing — his jawline looks like something Pygmalion would sculpt. His eyes are a pretty colour, and the dimples when he smiles make him appear oh-so warm. He’s the definition of handsome. 

“Thank you,” you say after you realize you’ve been staring, “god, I don’t know how else to thank you. You’re so good with kids.”

Chan rubs the back of his neck, flashing a humble smile, “no worries, for real. I have one of my own, that’s why.”

Your eyes widen at his statement. Meeting a young parent like you is a rare occurrence — in fact, you’ve never stumbled across one before. A part of you feels soothed that you’re not the only one going through the hardships of a young parent. 

“Oh, you have a kid of your own too?”

“Yeah,” the man nods, “a daughter, actually. Her name’s Aera.”

His smile gets wider at the mention of her daughter, and you could feel your heart swell at that. Right on time, a little girl in a pink tutu opens the fitting room door, a similar dimpled smile plastered across her cute face. 

“Dad!” she cheers, “can I get this dress?” 

Chan ruffles her hair, “of course you can, princess. C’mere.”

He takes the dress from Aera’s grip, glancing back at you. 

“How about your boy? What’s his name?”

“Haru. Thought it was a cute name, so I named him that.”

“Is that a baby?” Aera perks up, standing on her tip-toes to look into the stroller, “oh, he’s so cute, dad! So adorable! Can you get me one too?”

Both you and Chan turn red at her remark.

“Um,” he clears his throat, “maybe later, Aera. And stay quiet, you’ll wake the poor baby up.”

He turns back to you, offering an apologetic smile which you return with a small chuckle.

“Thank you, by the way — I didn’t catch your name, just realized,” you say.

“It’s Chan. And you?”

“Y/n,” you reply, “god, I don’t know what I would’ve done if you didn’t come to my rescue. Couldn’t get a babysitter today, and I’m a single parent so I had no choice but to bring Haru with me today.”

His eyebrows raise at your statement, “oh? You’re a single parent as well? Me too. It gets hard sometimes, doesn’t it? What not with us being young and all.”

You feel even more seen at his confession. 

“It gets so hard, please. Sometimes I feel like tugging all my hair out, actually.”

He laughs, before his eyes widen and he hurriedly whips out his phone.

“Hey, um,” he unlocks his phone, “there’s this groupchat I’m in that’s full of single parents near us. It’s really helpful, they usually suggest babysitters and stuff. Comes in especially handy when I go outstation and have to leave Aera. How about you give me your number and I’ll add you to it?” 

You get excited at the thought of meeting other people going through the same things as you, so you waste no time typing your number into his contacts. He watches you throughout the whole ordeal, admiring you. Chan has gone on a few dates after Aera’s mother got up and abandoned them, though none caught his eye the way you do. He can’t help the grin that appears as he admires you. 

“Thank you so much Chan, you have no idea how thankful I am for you. It’s been nice meeting you, seriously — but I kind of have to go now, before Haru gets up and gets grumpy again.”

He nods. Head thinking whether he should just ask you out on a date with him or if it was too early to do so. Right before you’re about to stroll away, he grabs a hold of your hand, a hopeful look in his eyes.

“Y/n, this might feel so odd to you, but uh — would you like to maybe, grab lunch together sometime?” 

You’ve never said yes to a date so fast.

[doitforbangchan]

I just finished reading abanb and I’m in awe!! You’re writing never fails to impress 😭

Also, when I finished it, I couldn’t help but think about an angsty alt ending where baby might not have made it and the boy’s reaction to their omega passing.. any thoughts 👀

oooof nonnie this is a dark thought… but since you asked i have thought about it 😢 this is not story canon buuttttttttt

chans whole world would crumble. his literally soulmate died and so for him there is nothing left. all he has left within him would be misery and anger. fuck he’s so angry. the most devastatingly angry he has ever been and will ever be. he goes on a murder spree, taking on every single person who had a hand in it- wether directly or otherwise.

minhos mind would would start to slip. he could vividly remember each moment leading up to omegas passing and it becomes too much for him to handle. he let down his pack- his family. he can’t take care of a pack if he can’t even protect his omega so there is nothing left for him and he would abandon them.

binnie would feel personally responsible. he feels like it was him who brought the threat right to their doorstep. he would become cold and detached; never cracking a joke again. he stops eating and lets his body whither away until someone has to step in.

oh jinnie, he self isolates hard. he never comes out of his room except when everyone is either gone or asleep. he doesn’t talk or make a sound, but when he’s holed up in his room he is screaming and crying and thrashing and just breaking everything. he tears up every piece of art he’s ever created, damming them for being a product of his emotions. this goes on for months

my sweet jisung has nightmares so excruciating he can’t sleep even with a light on. he spends all his days sitting on the porch, always with tears streaming down his face. some days they are silent and others they are violent sobs that wrack his body. he sits there and stares off down the road that leads to the house- praying for a miracle that she would suddenly come strolling up the path like she did the very first time he saw her.

felix never bakes again. he finds no joy in it anymore. he finds no joy in anything anymore. he cuts all of his hair off, buzzes it clean off until it grows out to his natural dark color. he is no longer the sunshine that omega used to call him, now he’s only a gloomy storm. lix cries himself to sleep every night

seungmin becomes detached- mean and deviant. he’s testy with everyone, picking fights both with the pack and strangers alike. he doesn’t give a shit about any body. he feels nothing but rage and anger and he takes it out wherever he can just to feel something. he acts like he’s unbothered, stone faced as a front. but no one knows that he can’t even look at himself in the mirror or he’ll break down into earth shattering sadness, for he can’t bear the sight of the claiming mark that remains engraved on his skin

innie tries to forget about omega. he instead drinks away his sorrows and lends his body to anyone with a pulse, fucking his way through this town and the next. no matter who is under him though he always imagines it’s omega, that she’s still here with him. that’s why he drinks, the alcohol makes all the faces blur together so he sees no one

needless to say none of them ever move on or love again. omega was the love of their lives and they will never forget or forgive the ones who took her

ngl writing this made me tear up. i can’t imagine a world where they all aren’t together forever like they’re meant to be 😢

thank you for the ask ❤️

-🍯

[vasito-de-leche]

okay I read your analysis on Forget Me Not and I'm in tears now thank you. (No but really thank you, it's such a touching piece.) Can you PLEASE for salvation of our fans souls write anything to like,,, give him hope? Forget Me Not x reader but it doesn't have to be actually all-out with hugs and kisses. We may,,,,,,,, just show him a new hobby? Any hobby of your choosing or idk play an instrument together. Just to give him something else to focus on, to channel at least part of his energy from self-destructive activities to something less hurtful. I'd personally like to bandage his (not actually wounded but still) hands as if they were bleeding. Something of the kind. Sorry for mistakes writing is incredibly inconvenient cuz tears aaa.

;R1999 FORGET ME NOT - "hands, fingers, scales"

Forget Me Not x Reader. 2.3k words. self-harm implied You've befriended Forget Me Not the same one befriends a rabid, beaten, old dog. And while he's much too busy fighting his inner demons, you're more worried about stopping these "pernicious habits" of his. A casual afternoon trying to make sure he's taking care of himself turns into something deeper.

thank you so much for the ask, nonnie!!

I got a little carried away with this request because thinking about how fucking insufferable and confusing FMN has to be just to indulge in HAND HOLDING and GETTING A FUCKING HOBBY made me so deranged and feral as if hes not fucking TOUCHSTARVED lmfao. this guy's love language is straight up worshipping, mf is not subtle about it

either way, hope you like it! here's the lil preview!

Sometimes, Forget Me Not understands the reason men and women kneel at the pew to worship and pray.

Devotion is something arcanists and humans share, whether honest or not. He's witnessed the rich and the poor, the pure and the depraved, and every binary that rules this world - all of them begging, pleading and praying at the end of their lives, casting away the pride they've held on for so long for the chance of salvation. Once stripped down to their core, there is nothing to do but hope God has enough love in His heart to look their way. 

And sometimes, Forget Me Not prays that you’ll find someone else - anyone but him - to fill the role of devotee.

The gentleness in your eyes whenever you look at him is enough to bring him to his knees, and Forget Me Not doesn't know what to do with himself but to worship and pray. Praying that you'll continue to look at him for a little longer, silently begging for your attention until you finally tire of him. Do you think yourself holy enough to replace the vitriol in his veins?

He does.

On good days, he even hopes that you can save him.

You never asked him to become your one and only believer, of course. You're not even aware of the space you take in his mind, nor the conflicting images he keeps conjuring of you at night, he's certain of this. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here, holding his hands and inspecting them for any injuries. This role is one of the many self-imposed tragedies in his life.

Your thumbs knead and massage his palm, as if you could soothe the pain away, and yet you refrain from pressing down hard. He's at your mercy, why hesitate? What do you see that he cannot?

Something is bothering you. It's obvious in the way you touch him, like you're afraid of hurting him, as if you were the one with a body count between the two. Every so often, your movements come to a halt and you both sit in silence, until you return to your ministrations, filling the nothingness with your sighing and humming.

All he needs is to look up, right at your face, to know everything he wants to know - but he's too much of a coward for that. Instead, light grey eyes follow your index finger as it slides under the cuffs of his shirt. You trace over the bone of his wrist and continue upwards.

He can't tear his eyes away.

Normally, Forget Me Not wouldn't mind. There is an addictive thrill to witnessing the shock of anyone who dares get so close and personal, but he feels himself shrink when you brush against his scales and recoil away on instinct. That's when he raises his head and finds your eyes in the dimly lit staff room.

That expression on your face - surely, you were regretting every choice that led you to him. By now, you might've surely realized that there is nothing for you to salvage in this shipwreck he calls a life. All attempts to check on him were surely a façade for whatever ulterior motives you continued to withhold from him. He's stubborn, believing that he can read you like an open book, but now he's just as lost as you are. When he opens his mouth to speak, you beat him to it and he grows a little restless at your words.

"Sorry, sorry! Did I, uh, hurt you? Dumb question, you would've definitely told me if that were the case. Anyway, it looks like you're okay! I don't know why I was so worried, actually."

His silence prompts you to continue, and all Forget Me Not can focus on is the absence of your warmth.

You raise a hand to gesture dismissively at your behaviour, brush it off to ease your embarrassment, that much he understands - though it's painful to watch you fumble like that, to deny what he hides under his clothes. Forget Me Not thinks of filling the space between your fingers with his own, just to drag you back to that quiet, albeit suffocating, moment of peace. Instead of doing that, he retreats and places both hands neatly on his lap.

"Thanks for indulging me and, yeah uh, again - sorry about that? It just caught me off guard. I should've been more careful."

But you were never careful with his space or his rules, plunging in and out of his life and leaving him to figure out where he stood in his game of push and pull. Why were you being careful now?

"It's nothing, I understand," he lies. Everything you do means the world to him and he doesn't even understand why. "It cannot hurt to know what sort of things the person pouring your drinks might be hiding under their sleeves."

The word "hypocrite" lingers at the tip of his tongue, threatening to spill out with as much venom as he can muster, but it stays lodged behind his teeth because he knows he's even worse: Forget Me Not prays that you'll stay with him, while also opening the door right out his life for you. As much as he wants to, he has no right of calling you out.

He's not used to receiving apologies and so he chooses not to think too hard on yours - though he's dreamed countless of times for the perfect situation in which he finally rips out one apology after another from the throats of those who wronged him, this one feels different. Undeserved, even.

His heart, that wretched lump in his chest, finally settles down and he prepares to end this interaction to save you the awkwardness of addressing his "deformities". But then you go and surprise him once more.

"Come on, I already told you..." You sigh and he inhales in tandem, but you're much too busy rolling your eyes to notice. "That whole thing you do, when you start scratching or, like, picking at your hand? You've been doing it more lately. It had me worried you might've been doing, I don't know - something."

Forget Me Not's eyes widen in surprise. The audacity to notice such things about him? And to put them on display without a warning? What else did you find out?

Part of him wants him to embrace his nature and scare you away, but that's the side of him that's been slowly losing this battle of attrition in his heart - you're a bad influence for him, after all. The other part... Well, it's still trying to sort itself out.

He settles for slowly undoing the buttons on his sleeve. It only takes a moment to roll up the fine fabric to his elbow, knowing you're staring right at him, through him maybe. The expression on his face is one of indifference, one he fights to maintain - this is the most vulnerable he's felt in decades.

That unsightly pattern begins exactly where his sleeves usually end, coiling around his forearm not unlike a snake and traveling upwards. The scales are dark, an iridescent black that reminds him of an oil spill in the middle of the ocean, and the ones at the edges fade away into lighter hues until they mix with the pale, sickly tone of his skin. He knows the sort of beauty he holds, one that can only be admired at a distance, turning into a grotesque imitation of a man when up close.

Forget Me Not presents himself to you and, with his free hand, gets ready to pluck one of the scales off.

"Wait, don't do that-!"

Seizing his arm and holding it close to your chest, you deprive him of the catharsis that comes with this level of self-mutilation. He knows you're connecting the dots, feeling the scattered, empty spaces from all the times you saw him pick himself apart and more. Your fingers brush against his bare skin looking for said spaces, counting them in your head, mourning their loss.

Some scales are in the process of regrowing like unwanted parasites, and he wishes he could feel anything at all just to be closer to you.

"God, what is wrong with you?! What was the point of that?"

Something compels him to laugh (perhaps it's your heartbeat reaching out to him loud and clear through your clothes, he feels it faintly) it comes across as sinister and condescending, the only way he knows how to express joy. Like he's making fun of your concern.

"Apologies," Forget Me Not begins to say, readjusting his glasses. The way you try to keep his own arm out of his reach doesn't go unnoticed. It's such a petty, childish gesture that makes his grin widen and your frown deepen. "I was under the impression you found this little oddity distasteful. There's no need to worry - they will return in a few days, they always do."

"Still, don't do that. It's not funny. It must...hurt a lot."

"Ah, but it doesn't. If else, I'd compare it to being pricked by a very small needle."

"You're just going to find something to nitpick and contradict everything I say, aren't you?" It's the least he can do to repay all the headaches you've given him, and for forgiving his transgressions too easily.

An intrusive thought makes itself known from the depths of his mind - would you forgive him just as readily if he were to kill someone in front of you? If he showed you just how destructive his arcane skills could be when given free reign? Where would you draw the line? And how much could he continue to push his luck before he lost you?

Before Forget Me Not realizes it, you've loosened your grip on his arm and returned to that previous moment of suffocating peace - the only difference is that you've gone from being deep in thought to troubled and miserable, one hair away from darting out the room and refusing to speak to him. At this, his pinky finger wraps around yours and neither of you mention it.

"Can't you... I don't know, do something else?"

"I could be doing my job, but alas, you're keeping me prisoner here." He says, like he's not delighted to be given your undivided attention. There are no complaints when you step on his foot with a huff, he deserved that one.

"I'm talking about the scales thing! You could wear gloves. If it happens when you get distracted then, I could hang around to make sure you stop in time." A pause, and then the sound of your voice becomes unsure and so very small. "Maybe if we covered them with bandages...? But that could be annoying. Band aids? No, no - too unprofessional. It would ruin the whole aesthetic you're going for."

You continue to trail off, coming up with many different ideas and solutions to a problem he caused. He doesn't understand why you'd even bother in the first place. For you to reciprocate the attention he gives you, to care about him? That's the hardest pill Forget Me Not has ever swallowed - it's something he twirls around with his tongue, as if deciding whether to poison himself with bliss or spit it out and continue latching on to his doubts and insecurities.

Outside, in front of everyone at The Walden, he's the one leading the crowd and talking for hours on end, commanding their attention and manipulating the flow of every conversation.

Behind closed doors, all he does is listen to every nonsensical thought, unnecessary opinion and strange anecdote you throw at him.

"...No, that won't work either." Absentmindedly, you fix and button his sleeve back into place.

You've grown used to his silence the same way you've adapted and grown used to his flaws.

"I mean, it worked on me - getting a little slap on the wrist whenever I started biting my nails, but..." Without even thinking, you rub circles with your thumb across his knuckles.

You might as well be the stupidest angel in heaven.

"Why don't you just get a hobby? That's good enough, right? It's been so long since I've heard you play piano, the one by the stage." And just like that, you're on your feet attempting to drag him outside for a demonstration. "You could teach me! That way, we get to do something fun and I get to keep an eye on you."

Forget Me Not knows he has nothing to offer to this world, but when his saint looks at him with such hope, he cannot refuse. The path to recovery seems almost doable when you bump your shoulder into his, challenging him to play the hardest song he knows.

The stars in your eyes whenever you recognize all the songs he plays becomes intoxicating, more so than the sweet, sweet revenge he's yearned for since he spiraled into decadence.

Some days, his patrons join with their own singing or humming, and he forgets that he hates each and every one of them for as long as his fingers dance across the keys - a momentary reprieve from the constant stream of negativity. It doesn't take long for his body to remember his training and soon, he's improvising.

A melody for gloomy, rainy days. A whimsical tune here and there for celebrations.

A song for you and himself - the first one he teaches you and the only one he plays in private, when he's all alone with nothing but his thoughts. Solitude has gone from a noose wrapped around his neck to the perfect time to compose and hone this long forgotten passion. For the first time in forever, he doesn't dread the silence of an empty room, the endless wait between his shifts at The Walden - not when he can simply fill them with more and more music.

And so, Forget Me Not plays, hoping that you'll continue to cheer him on. Hoping that this tiny spark you've ignited in him can truly become his salvation.

[matan4il]

Hey...are you okay? Last you said,drones were en route

Hi Nonnie! Thank you for caring, I'm physically okay, though it was not an easy night, and I don't wish it on anyone.

I wanted to update, but figured I need to make a proper update post, plus I've had some real life stuff to take care of this morning, so I couldn't post anything earlier...

I hope you're doing good! xoxox

With your permission, I'll try to also reply to all the other kind people who sent messages about this...

Stay safe!! I'll be praying for you and all of Isreal

Thank you so much, Nonnie! We're mostly physically okay, I think most people here are shaken up, but trying to continue with life, and I have no doubt that it matters for every Israeli, to know there are people out there who care and pray for us. So, I'm glad I get to pass this message on, too. Sending you lots of love! xoxox

@hidingintheaether asked:

Wishing you a good nights sleep. May you be safe and sound tomorrow and in the days to come. I am taking sunday off from tumblr and news sites both for my mental health, but i know you do not have that luxury (of ignoring the news) at the moment. Just wanted you to know that somebody is thinking of you. (i will be praying for israels safety.)

Thank you so much, lovely! It def feels like we need it, because while Iran claims the attack's over, they did escalate things with it, which means Israel has to respond. So we still don't know what the following period of time will bring.

I'm glad you're taking care of yourself, I've sadly seen some nasty posts, so it's good to take a break when you need it. And just like I told the previous Nonnie, I'm very thankful for the care and prayers, I know it helps me, and I'm sure I'm not the only one. Lots of hugs to you, and be well! xoxox

@dominikadecember asked:

Alice, I don't know what is going to happen but I sending so much love to you and I hope... I genuinely don't know what for. I don't have any words.

Thank you so much, my darling Dom! I'm sending you love and hugs right back, and I know how you feel. IDK what I'm wishing for either. I want peace for everyone, including the people of Iran, they're suffering under the Islamist regime there, too. I just know that realistically, that's not where the situation is at, not for a long while yet, and for the time being, IDK what to wish for that will bring us to where I hope we can get to... I hope you're well, and I'm always grateful for you! xoxox

[khaire-traveler]

Hello!

I'm wondering if you know anything about deities sending familiars? I'll explain my situation. I should preface I'm very new to worshiping and being a Hermes devotee.

I think my cat may be a familiar, specifically one sent by Hermes. Here's why I think this: every time I do anything with Hermes (Readings, prayers, even thinking about Hermes), my cat shows up. He comes into my room and wants to be pet, and then he lays on my bed. Late at night usually after I pray and then I sit and just think and if I think about Hermes, my cat comes in and he's begging for love, last night i started thinking about this coincidence, and when I started thinking "omg what if my cat is a little familiar from Hermes", My cat sat on my dresser which is positioned is across from my altars, and he was just sitting on my dresser staring at my Hermes altar. I also think it makes sense considering my cat's personality, too. He is a silly boy; he makes me laugh and smile, and he's very precious. He's a quirky guy. He also loves exploring, he loves going outside, and sometimes he doesn't come back until really late at night. I should also note I've had my cat for a little while now. He's always been my pal, but since worshiping Hermes, he's been really increasingly active with me.

Again, sorry if this is a weird ask. I just wanted to get the opinion from someone who looks like they know what they're talking about.

Hey, Nonny, not a weird question at all!

I actually have a cat named after Hermes (full name is Hermes Mao Mao). I believe, truly, that he was given to me from Hermes. That's a story in and of itself, but my main point is that I do believe animals can be connected with deities. I'm not sure that your car is a familiar, per say, because I think familiars are usually taking interest in witchcraft and divination specifically? But that doesn't mean your cat wasn't sent from Hermes or something of the sort.

I also find that pets generally take an interest in deities. I've had this happen a lot with my own pets, especially Hermes Mao Mao. I think they like the energy deities have sometimes, and Hermes is known to be great with animal husbandry (getting along with animals). I think it's very possible that your cat is simply attracted to his energy and may even encourage you to interact with him because of that.

I hope this helps at least somewhat! This is a topic I don't see many people discuss, but it's super interesting. I encourage you to trust your own judgment of the situation, however, even if it disagrees with me. You know your cat way better than I do. Take care, and have a good day/night. 🧡

[supernovadragoncat]

okay lana as sansa is such a great idea, especially in her younger days with her strawberry-blonde hair. as a lana enthusiast who tends to make every lana song about sansan I want to know which lana songs do u think would make great sansan fics? she's so underrated as a storyteller

Yessss, Nonny!!! ❤️ Team Lana as Sansa HC rise up! In my humble opinion, she is the perfect Sansa headcanon. 

Her BTD/Paradise era is exactly how I envision Sansa to look—baby doll looks with pouty lips, big eyes, pixie nose. Her features are soft and feminine, fawn-like and expressive.

I’ve never envisioned Sansa having dark auburn hair. In the books, Cat describes Sansa’s hair as being lighter than her own, so I’ve always envisioned the peaches-and-gold tone of tawny red.

And it’s not just her looks but her demeanor too. When you watch Lana's interviews from that time (X, X, X), she’s dulcet-voiced, soft-spoken, and shy. There’s a vulnerability that’s endearing and tender, which is how I’ve always envisioned Sansa too.

Lana is such an amazing storyteller and songwriter. I’m right there with you in that so many of her songs scream SanSan to me. 

Honestly, the entirety of "Born To Die" fits with the cannot-live-or-breathe-without-you fatalistic kind of love, which is my favorite kind of SanSan. 

I like SanSan with a twinge (sometimes more than a twinge) of madness. I want them unhinged, batshit crazy for each other; ride-or-die in an obsessive way but it works for them. To quote Peter Steele, “I own her and she owns me.” 

I don’t want them having date nights at Applebees and communicating effectively through relationship problems. I want knock-down, drag-out fights where the neighbors probably call the cops followed by mind-blowing makeup sex where they’re just feral for each other for days on end. They’re the couple that is asked to leave the Applebees because their PDA is so over-the-top, it’s making other patrons uncomfortable. 

Anyway, Lana gets it and, to that end, these songs scream SanSan to me: 

“Video Games” 

It's you, it's you, it's all for you

Everything I do

“Blue Jeans” 

I will love you 'til the end of time

I would wait a million years

“Yayo” 

Put me onto your black motorcycle

50s' baby doll dress for my "I do"

“Old Money” 

But if you send for me, you know I'll come

And if you call for me, you know I'll run

I'll run to you, I'll run to you

“Swan Song”

Say goodnight to the life and the world you knew

I'm gonna follow you

“Religion” 

When I'm down on my knees, you're how I pray

Hallelujah, I need your love

“Cherry” 

Darling, darling, darling

I fall to pieces when I'm with you

I fall to pieces

“Love Song” 

You know that I'd just die to make you proud

The taste, the touch, the way we love

It all comes down to make the sound of our love song

“Yosemite” 

We've done it for fun, we've done it for free

I showed up for you, you showed up for me

We did it for the right reasons

Anyway, thank you for this ask, nonny with the good taste, and for allowing me to shout from the rooftops my love for Lana, our Patron Saint of Delightfully Unhealthy SanSan inspiration.

I mean...look at this cutie!

[slightlyrebelliouswriter23]

Hey queen

Woke up in the middle of the night from a nightmare relating to scary shit from being a kid

was like what do I want to do to feel better

I thought of going to reading some of ur fan fics

So whatever u may feel bad about ur writing or anything else I just hope you know that somewhere out there in the vast world of 8 billion people, one of them goes to your writing when they desperately need something to keep them grounded and that one person is very grateful for the stranger they will never meet (you) and always sends prayers of happiness out for u into the dead of night even tho the person praying has no religion

I really hope that ur happy every single day

Thanks for everything Em

oh, nonnie 🥺❤️❤️❤️ i was taking a wee bit of a mental health break from social media, and i come back to this lovely share. i hate that you're having nightmares, but i'm so happy you enjoy my fics, and i'm so glad they're able to bring you a little solace when you can't sleep. i hope you're able to get some rest.

i love you lots. i'll keep writing 🖤

[p-antomime]

KIKI MY LOVE ❤❤! What's ur thoughts about atepdad!Osamu and Uncle!Atsumu?

nonnie you're a one, and i have a few thoughts about they both so, listen, listen carefully.

୧ : tw.: stepcest, hints of voyeurism, breeding!kink, threesome, age gap.

oh, stepdad!osamu & uncle!atsumu.

osamu would be very affectionate and would even try to be a "father" in the sense of providing security and being present even for some things that were very silly to him, but for you would be very important — he could tell how important they were by the way your eyes sparkled and a wide smile appeared on your face when you talked about them. however, osamu wouldn't know how to handle the day that you would meet his brother because he thought that atsumu would still be a little immature, even though he was much older than before, and this would result in: a family lunch in which osamu felt the need to stare and analyze the way his brother acted, just to make sure that you were comfortable, that his brother wouldn't talk or do something impertinent.

or he, your stepfather, thought so. until he felt strangely uncomfortable with the way atsumu took too long for his liking in the goodbye hug you exchanged at the door of the house.

after that day, stepdad!osamu has become a little more secretive about the boys in your life. crush at college? osamu wants his name and wants to know what he does for a living. crush at the bus or the subway? osamu wants to know, too, and will pray to god that you don't run into him more often when you come home from college. someone who has picked up your phone on the street? osamu will walk out with you more often, with his arm around your shoulders, so that everyone think you are just a couple with a bit of an age difference.

before you could even realize it properly, stepdad!osamu would be running his eyes down your exposed thighs through your pajama shorts for seconds too long. and in almost every shower his hand would be around his cock pumping it not only while he fantasizes about your palm there, but also imagines how much tighter your pussy would be. he needed the real thing, as time went by his hand wouldn't be enough and neither would any other woman's holes.

he just didn't know that your favorite uncle texted you almost every day, atsumu liked you. not like osamu did, yet, but did! he would constantly be walking around the city and when he found something you liked, he would think about buying it for you and would definitely deliver the gift as soon as possible.

and then atsumu would find himself needing to put out of his mind your smile & face when he was alone, at night, under the sheets.

while it was a torture for your uncle to spend days trying to control himself and convince himself that it was no big deal, it was all too easy for your stepdad to put his hands on you when it was just the two of you alone. it started with just the typical caresses he left on your shoulders every day, it didn't seem like a big deal because you were already used to it, and then osamu started purposely wanting to help you a little more with the housework, coming up behind you and maybe unintentionally letting his cock and pelvis rub against your ass; you could feel it underneath the shorts, even the underwear. you could feel him underneath all of that, but you didn't allow yourself to feel him filling you up inside because it was so wrong that you were disgusted with yourself.

and it got worse when your stepfather gave you an adorable smile after whispering that he loved you and leaving a little kiss on your forehead before you went to bed.

it was on one of those nights that he stayed up late without knowing that you had also stayed up late. you intended to get off alone, without help, he intended to slide into your room and fuck you with your face smothered in pillows so as not to make too much noise. and your mistake was to use headphones when your slid a hand into your pajamas to play with your sensitive clit. it was too obvious the skin change between your delicate fingers and his touching your pussy and you didn't even think to close your legs; it was the only sign osamu needed to know that you were a slut for your stepfather and had always been there to be used until your holes were leaking with his thick, sticky cum.

unfortunately, not for you, it turned out to be a routine. osamu would spend the whole day just waiting for night to come so he could eat you out like he hadn't eaten in days, so he could hold you by the waist while fucking you so hard until he left little fingerprints on your skin.

it was on one of these "fun" nights, one when your mother had to stay late at work, that atsumu thought it would be nice to give you one of the gifts he bought during the week — and osamu didn't remember that he had given him a copy of the house keys, in case of an emergency.

and atsumu knew very well how your moans would sound, he had fantasized about them several times. even so, the most obvious choice was to lock the door, go up the stairs in silence and slowly go in search of the ajar door that hid you and your stepdad with fingers knucles-deep inside your pussy, the loud wet sounds of kissing and your entrance being stretched made both of their dicks painfully hard.

the door opened, you immediately tried to pull away from osamu and his brother let out a mocking laugh before he finished entering, closed the door and spoke, "never thought you were the type to ever fuck your stepdaughter, brother."

osamu's eyes fell between his brother's legs and the response came quickly, "you say it as if you weren't the one being so horny over us, atsumu."

you could barely think, your stepfather's fingers kept thrusting and rubbing your clit with just the right amount of pressure to make you melt and whimper. and atsumu preferred to just move closer in silence, each time getting a better look at the way your tight hole clenched around his brother's digits with no intention of letting them go.

"Can I?"

"Just wait— a second, hold on," osamu spoke curving his fingers once again and hitting your sweetest spot.

you couldn't hold on and in a matter of seconds your body was shaking, your pussy was squirting and making a mess, and your eyes were locked on atsumu's. you could feel how much he wanted to touch you just by the way his eyes were eating you, dripping with desire and need.

Your high took long seconds to disappear and your stepfather pulled you against his body, leaving you leaning against his chest with legs spread and your pussy on display still dripping, "Shh, sweetie, it was good, wasn't it? I could feel you throbbing a lot, needin' a break, hm?"

atsumu knelt exactly between your legs and you tried to close them, to which osamu held them open with one hand and spoke again, "Keep them open for him, yeah? He's goin' to treat you so well, don't you trust your family?"

and all you could do was nod the head in agreement, completely out of breath and with your legs still trembling. your stepdad's brother smiled sideways and planted a kiss on your belly, his fingers ghosting up the inside of your thighs and his eyes glued on yours.

"don't worry, angel, your daddy is here, your uncle 'Tsumu is here, nothing to fear, right?"

atsumu asked rhetorically and immediately, before you or osamu could answer, slid his mouth to eat you out almost as well as he did.

it was a pity that his tasting your sweet pussy didn't last long: neither of those two men was very willing to spend any more time without making you feel a cock from inside, which means that double breeding is coming right the way and the neighbors would think you had got a new boyfriend.

— haikyū masterlist.

[missblissy]

Hi!! I want some pain so the Hurt/comfort post, about Alastor x reader with 1, 2, 4, 12??

((Of course Nonny!! Sorry for such a wait!! I've got a lot of these to work on lol. REMEMBER!! REQUEST ARE CLOSED RIGHT NOW, EVERYONE!! IF YOU SEND ONE IN I WILL NOT DO IT! I've had a few other people send some in and I'm sorry to say I have to delete them. I do not have any more room to take any more prompt requests. Thank you everyone for understanding! NOW.... Enjoy the Modern!AU Angst >:D))

1: “We need to stop the bleeding – now!” 2: “I hate to see you hurt like this.” 4: “I want to help you, so please let me.” 12: “You’re normally the tough guy. Today, let me be tough for the both of us.”

Something about today had felt off. Ever since you woke up, it just felt... not right. As if your mind already knew what was going to happen before it actually did. But no one can really know that for sure. That's why it's called a gut feeling. And that feeling told you that today... You might just die.

You've tasted blood before. But for some reason this time it tasted sweet, rather than bitter, and full of iron. There wasn't much for you to focus on other than the lights from the ceiling flickering over your head. You faintly heard a doctor screaming, "We need to stop the bleeding! BP is dropping- Let's go! Now!"

How did you end up here again, violently broken and bleeding out? Oh, that's right... You were driving home after work. It was another late shift during the dead hours of the night. Drunk drivers were often out during these hours of the night. One just so happened to hit you, and now you're here in a hospital.

You just wanted to go home and sleep. You wanted to lay beside your husband and not have to worry about anything. That was not your case, however. And instead, you tried your best to speak. A nurse who was pushing you along the gurney said, "It's alright, we'll help you, you're safe now." But all you wanted to do was ask about your husband. For someone to tell him what was going on. You were sure he was at home, sleeping soundly and without a clue what had happened.

And Alastor wouldn't find out until the next morning. He'd wake up to several missed calls from dozens of people and some he didn't even know. This man didn't even get dressed. He ran out of the house still in his pajamas and floored it to the hospital. Along the way there, Alastor would throw a massive fit. He'd smash his hands on the steering wheel, beating himself up over not getting there sooner.

He'd curse and swear and honestly drive like a maniac. Every red light he got caught at only made him angrier with the world. His tires would spin and shoot smoke the second the light flickered green and off he rushed again.

Luckily, you were out of surgery long before Alastor got to the hospital. A nurse walked him to your room, and he found himself staring at a sight he'd never imagine. You were broken beyond belief. The nurse gave Alastor a sorry look, "Everything's stable, for now," The nurse said, "But...." She shook her head, "It was one of the worse car accidents we've ever seen. We did everything we could-"

"Coma..." Alastor said the single word, "Induced or?" The nurse shook her head.

"Brain damage, though there is still plenty of brain activity," That was good to hear. It meant you weren't brain dead... yet. The nurse gave him a sorry look, then with a nod of her head, she left him there. Alastor slowly walked into your room and closed the door behind him. He even turned all the blinds so no one could see in the little windows from the hallways. Everything felt wrong.

He stood at your bedside. Taking in everything. The tubes, the machines, the wires. Almost immediately he felt his eyes burn with the threat of tears. And when he placed a hand on your cheek he couldn't stop the waves of them rushing down his face.

The sheer pain of the situation made Alastor sob like a child for the first time in his adult life. He sat down beside you and grabbed your hand, "Dammit..." He squeezed tightly, "Dammit!" He let out a little shout and brought your hand to his cheek, "I hate this-" He let out a small cry, "I hate to see you like this, my poor dear-"

He couldn't stop the waves of tears sobbing from his eyes. He'd never let himself cry like this before, but he felt like if he didn't cry, he wouldn't have the chance to later. With anger, he ran a hand over his face, aggressively wiping his tears. He threw his glasses off his face and they clinked to the floor. Alastor's fingers ringed into his hair as he let out another sob and pushed his bangs out of his face. He had completely lost all of his composure. Every part of him was breaking down.

Alastor sat down in the chair by your bedside and buried his head in one of his hands. With his other hand, he still held firm to yours. His fingers dug into your skin as let out another sob, "Please-" He hiccuped, "Please...!" He looked up at your unconscious face with watery dark eyes, "Please be okay," He whispered the words out quickly as he brought your hand to his lips, "Please let me help you-" He spoke the words against your skin, "I want to help you- Please let me... Just!" He paused for another quick sob, "Please just give me a sign your still in there..."

He was never a man to pray to any kind of god. He didn't believe there was one, to begin with. But Alastor found himself praying, hoping that anything would happen. He couldn't lose you, and certainly not like this. You never sign any DNR papers or made it clear to your doctors that you didn't want to be resuscitated. But you did tell Alastor if there ever came a day that you needed machines to keep you alive, you had asked him to pull the plug.

With the weight of what was once just a silly conversation that had now come true, Alastor found himself drowning in misery. He rested his head on the back of your hand as sat in his chair. He looked at his glasses on the ground as tears splattered around them, "I don't want to kill you," He whispered with a cry, "I don't want to unplug you if there is a chance you'll come out of this."

The stone-cold silence lasted only a second between the beats of your heart monitor. A beep, then silence. Another beep, then silence again. Alastor found himself swelling with rage and anger, but mostly sadness. He shook his head slowly as he stared at the ground. This can't be happening... He thought This has to be a dream... This-

Something sounded off. The beeps were getting... faster? Alastor looked up and stared at the monitors. He didn't understand any of them, there were so many, but something was happening. He watched numbers flicker and change when suddenly he felt a tug at his hand.

You didn't make a sound or hardly move but you're squeezed his hand. Alastor had never been so hopeful for something so small. He shot out of his chair with enough force to tip it over behind him.

"Darling!?" Alastor firmly gripped your hand and leaned over you. He let his free hand brush your hair out of your face as he asked, "Darling, please, for the love of god- Can you hear me?"

He waited, and waited some more. Suddenly her felt your hand squeeze him again while he searched your face for any signs, "oh my god-" He whispered to himself as he watched your face twitch with pain before your eyes flickered open. With lightning speed Alastor ran to the door of your room and swung it open, "Someone get a nurse!" He shouted into the hallway, "Please!" He ignored most of the odd stares he was getting.

It wasn't a second later that a small team of nurses rushed in to check on you. You had certainly woken up and the tubes down your throat were not comfortable at all. The intubation tubes were removed, along with the feeding tubes, while others updated your stats. Alastor waited nervously in the corner of the room as he watched a team of people work over you. He felt so helpless that he couldn't watch for long. He'd leave the room and wait in the hallway, trying his best to ignore the painful coughs and groans as tubes were pulled out of your throat.

When the nurses left, Alastor quickly went back into the room and to your side. You had only just started breathing on your own again. It was much harder to breathe than ever before, but you still managed. You were still groggy, swore, and very much in pain. Despite this, you still let the smallest and weakest smile crawl along your lips, "Hey..." Was the first thing you said to your husband.

You watched as Alastor's eyes flickered all over your form. From the casts, the pins, the cuts, and bruises. He searched your face for serval minutes than began a weak laugh that sounded similar to a cry, "H-hey..." He said with a long sigh, he even tried to wear a smile that just didn't sit right on his face.

"Al..." You raised a weak and tired hand to his face. He immediately pressed his cheek into the palm of your hand and shook his head, "I'm sorry," You said. But you had nothing to be sorry for, you didn't cause this or intend for it to happen.

He couldn't say anything, Alastor was too caught up with his feelings. You watched him break down all over again as if he was still living with the fear that you might die, "Hey- hey," You raised your hand slightly and made him look at you, "I'm alright," It was hard to see him so broken down like this, "I'm okay, I'm here." You reassured him, "I'm not going anywhere."

Alastor shook his head quickly as if he didn't want to bother you with his feelings. He sucked in a quick gasp for air then sobbed out, "I'm not strong enough to deal with something like this- Ever-.... I can't lose you." He said quickly.

You couldn't really scoot over but thankfully the bed was rather large. You gave Alastor's arm a tug and he quickly climb in and curled up beside you. He was careful to stay clear of any broken bones as he made himself comfortable.

You stared at the ceiling while Alastor shut his eyes and buried himself into the crook of your neck, you used your free hand to comb his hair despite the pain it caused you to move, "That's alright," You finally told him, "No one is strong enough to deal with something like this. You're normally so tough and good at hiding your emotions. But you don't have to do that. I'm alive, I lived, I can be tough enough for the both of us, even if it's just for today."

Alastor curled himself as close as he could beside you. He wanted nothing more than to hide and forget about this day, he knew how impossible that was but he still wanted it. You could feel his tears running from his face and onto your skin. He couldn't stop crying when normally he never cried. He didn't even cry at his mother's funeral. Even though you were the one in the car accident, somehow you felt that Alastor was in the most pain.

"Please don't ever leave me," His voice was raspy and broken as he spoke against the skin of your neck.

With a sad and sorry look on your face, you did your best to pull him closer and wrap your arm around him. You pressed your forehead against his and you felt a set of tears drop from your eyes. You did your best to smile as you spoke, "I won't," You promised, "I'll never leave you, I'll always be here."

[foxgloveprincess]

I came with a title randomly "angel of death" Do your magic

Angel of Death

Note: Hi, nonnie. I have to admit, I wasn’t sure whether I wanted to complete this for you. I understand that it can be exciting when you get an idea to send to a writer, but at the same time, the way you worded your request is somewhat off-putting and demanding. I’m not a machine where you put in an idea and I pump out work. It takes time and effort. I’m perfectly happy to consider requests from people who write into my inbox. At the same time, this sorta threw me off. Nevertheless, it’s 1AM, I can’t sleep, and I hope you enjoy what I’ve written. 

Warnings: Dark (Soft Dark), Demon!Loki, Gender Fluid and Shapeshifting Loki (they/them pronouns, with a shapeshift to a female figure at the end), Yandere Vibes, Deals with a Devil, Pet Names (pet, darling), Religious Iconography (takes place in a church and there’s a brief mention of a cross and God), implications of unrequited love toward Natasha, mentions of death/damnation. Minors do not interact (18+).

Synopsis:

Five years ago, you made a deal—your soul in exchange for the life of the one you love. Your time has come and they’re here for their payment.

Excerpt:

The church sits silent. At this hour of the night, the pews sit empty and darkness shrouds the stone floors. The priest has long since retired to bed. Only a few flickering candles shine just enough light to see.

And yet, before the cross, you kneel, praying to a God who won’t hear you.

You’ve counted down to the minute, the time left before they will come to collect you and your soul will be damned. Five years passing in the blink of an eye.

It’s a waiting game now, fear prickling at your nape with each moment that counts down their arrival.

“I must admit, I’m mildly disappointed,” a sonorous voice drones from the shadows, “I was expecting a chase.”

Your eyes dart about the small chapel, searching for the source. You’ve heard them every so often, made a deal with them, but never seen their face. Curiosity piques, a tentative spark of thrill that captures your imagination and lets your focus drift from your fear.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, voice faint, but you know they hear you. “Where are you?”

“I’m wherever I need to be, pet,” they croon, voice low in your ear. Their nose brushes a trail down the back of your neck, a shiver following their path and shooting down your spine.

But as soon as your head turns, all trace of them vanishes.

“Are you ready?” they ask, far off now, hidden away in the shadows once again.

You swallow thickly, shaking away the haze of their seductive words, their tantalizing touch, which lingers on your skin even as they drift about the chapel.

“I—yes.” You stumble over your answer, mind reeling with a cacophony of thoughts and confusions. “I’ve settled all my personal affairs and left a note.”

“Oh, how good you’ve been.” They chuckle, dark and deep. Fingers reaching out to glide across your shoulders in a frigid caress. “And now it’s time to fulfill your end of the bargain,” they say, right behind you—their chill at your back, their presence looming, suffocating.

“And Natasha? She will continue to thrive?” Your voice cracks, eyes squeezing shut against the prick of tears. Pivoting around, you face the demon, but cannot bear to look at them.

“Of course, my darling,” they assure, words honey sweet and sickly, almost mocking. An icy finger lifts your chin, a tongue clicks against teeth. “She will live all the days your life was promised. Just like I agreed.”

Gathering every remnant of courage still pumping through your veins, you open your eyes, seeing the demon to whom you sold your soul for the first time. They stand taller than any mortal man. hair black as pitch surrounding two sharp horns and cascading down their back, raised designs marking every inch of their icy blue skin.

Their tail darts forward, wrapping around your waist and dragging you intimately close, a hairs breadth apart. Whether the chill makes you shudder or the intensity in their eyes, you couldn’t say. But they examine you, vibrant red eyes drinking in every twitch of your expression before finding some answer to an unasked question.

“You need never think of her again, my pet,” they whisper, the tone of their voice rising octaves as their physical body shifts, becoming softer, more feminine in figure. Their hand cradles the back of your head, keeping you locked in place, no way to escape. “I will be all you need.”

[writingfromkitchenator]

If you're still asking for fic requests, I would love to read something about watching Thorin be an incredible dad to your young child as well as a loving husband 💕

Thank you Nonny! I'm slowly getting around to all of these!

~

The giggles never failed to get your attention, and always made you smile, even in moments where things were serious, or the mood was down. It was just a perfect reminder of how right things had become after all the wrong.

Today was no different, and the giggles were joined by the quick running of feet and excited shouts for their father.

Thorin beamed at his children, quickly scooping the young boy and girl into his arms, all three pairs of brilliant blue eyes sparkling with joy, and making you fall just a little bit more in love with them all.

Babbling excitedly to each other and to Thorin, Thorin laughed, taking it in his stride as his gaze met yours across the hall. He looked so young and joyful that you couldn’t help but imagine that none of the other things had happened before. This was the life that he deserved, and you prayed every night that it would stay this way.

“It seems our little rapscallions have been in the kitchens again,” Thorin said, smiling at you as the two children kept giggling in his arms. “Seems Bombur gets as great a delight feeding them as they do eating his food.”

You laughed, kissing both your children a top their heads before claiming Thorin’s lips in a brief kiss. “I’m sure we could try and make them sit still, but that would mean they couldn’t just come find you when you wished.”

“Nor you,” he teased gently. “But come, I think we should all attend to the kitchen, just to make sure it’s safe.”

“To get your own snack you mean,” You laughed, taking one of your children, who continued to giggle as you laughed. “Come on then, who am I to deny my wonderful husband and mischievous children?”

Thorin’s laughter followed after you, a bubble of joy filling your chest. Days like this were what you had all fought for.

I Need A Fic

[hxnmantii]

Karim Flam hc’s

Requested: “Ohh okay could you maybe do relationship hcs for Karim with a black fem s/o?”

tw: slight slight slight anime spoilers but overall fluff

Pairings: Karim x black fem!reader

Ratings: PG

A/n: It took me three days to come up with that phrase😭 why does he talk like that😭 i hope you enjoy nonny!

Karim notices you from the get go

But instead of minding his business, he goes up to and speaks to you in his riddle language resulting in an altercation between you guys because umm sir who are you?? Calling crap??

He’s anger but still wants you on his team. You’ve got a “nasty attitude” But he couldn’t deny the fact that you were good at your job, The way you protect the citizens of the city so passionately and effectively makes him gain respect for you.

Also you suck at defense and being Station 1’s shield, it’s responsibility to teach everything he knows.

So he creates a schedule for you where he would teach you all he knows about defense during your private lessons then after, walk you to your room so you could change and do your nightly prayer with the others .

On the way there, (with a little push from Yan Li) he’s reluctantly asking you questions about your family, your past, your favorite things to do and etc. His interests peaks and Soon you guys are hanging out outside of work and praying.

One day you guys are chilling in your room, and he looks at you before heavily sighing. You look at him quizzically. He doesn’t answer you, opting for standing in front of you and staring you down, a small grin on his lips.

“You are the center of the beauty like the beauty of a beauty close to beauty.”

You’re nodding your head with a confused smile before realization hit you. You pounce out of the bed.

“Are you asking me out??”

He was in fact asking you out

After you guys make it official, he becomes your ride or die, correcting you in private and defending you in public type boyfriend because this man is whipped for you

He prays to sol every night, asking him to make sure your relationship prospers and thanking him for bringing you into his life when he needed you most (since you came after the whole Rekka incident)

His favorite thing to do with you is cuddling while listening to music because between the two of you, you guys have a widespread of music. It’s never a specific playlist, it’s always put on shuffle so it’ll go from Megan The Stallion to Bring Me The Horizon.

Surprisingly, he loves taking pictures of you guys together. He has a bunch of pictures framed around his room and for your birthday he gave you a heart lock with his favorite memory of you guys in it.

While you have the locket, he has a silver cross with your name on it and he wears it everywhere.

His Mohawk? Dead, dead as hell

His solution is to “borrow” your hair products because not only does it get that fried piece of hay back to it’s original shine and softness, it also smells like you. (His favorite is definitely anything Shea moisture)

Don’t be fooled by his sudden niceness, he’s still serious about his work and really quick to anger when people play too much so most of your more laidback and lovey dovey moments are not until you guys are alone.

His ideal date with you is walking around the town, hand n hand, eating shaved ice and then at night , you guys would set up a picnic and watch the fireworks go off in each embrace.

Reblogs are appreciated

[khaire-traveler]

Your blog has helped me so much, showing that being human within our practices is acceptable, not to be ashamed of. Thank you for what you do, despite what negative comments say, I love and appreciate it so much!! Do you have any tips you would share with practitioners who fear approaching the Gods, such as in prayer or in general?

Hey, Nonny, thank you for the ask!

It really means a lot that I could help someone so much. I've been having an extremely hard day, so it was really nice to hear this. I greatly appreciate your kindness.

As for advice on being afraid to approach the gods, in prayer or otherwise, I actually had someone come to me about this recently. I think the best first step is recognizing where this fear comes from. Is it related to religious trauma, such as being told that your prayers bother the gods or being inherently afraid that they will smite you for no real reason? Is it related to interpersonal trauma, such as feeling like a burden when sharing your problems with others or feeling afraid around prominent fatherly figures? Although I'm obviously not a professional, I will say that 9 times out of 10, fear of approaching the gods is usually related to some kind of past traumatic experience that had left a bad taste in a person's mouth.

After discovering the root of this fear, I recommend slowly and gently working through it. It's best if you can do this with the help of a mental health professional, as I feel it's a more effective and healthier way of healing through trauma, but if you're unable to do this, please don't feel like you can't heal at all on your own. Make sure that you are gentle with yourself as you process what you've been through, and try to take note of when these fears become the most prominent. Try to gently correct yourself when you notice you're falling into your fear again. For example, let's say you're afraid that if you pray, the deity is going to be upset with you for speaking to them. Whenever you catch yourself thinking that way, try to remind yourself that people used to pray to these gods every single day for literally every reason under the sun; if the deity wasn't bothered by that, why would they be bothered now? And what if they don't get upset with you? What if, instead, they are actually super kind and inviting and accepting? Turning negative trains of thoughts and "what if's" into positive ones can be a big help.

The next thing I'd say to do is start small. Maybe write letters addressed to the gods or keep a prayer journal for your prayers. If communicating super directly is scary for you, maybe these more indirect methods will help you feel more at-ease. I'd recommend slowly becoming more comfortable with the presence of the gods. When you find yourself feeling good and calm, maybe just silently invite a deity to join and hang out with you. Getting used to their presence in times where you're feeling good may help you associate that deity with positive experiences and help you feel less fear as time goes on.

I hope that this was helpful for you! I wish you well on your journey ahead. Remember that the gods are far more compassionate than media and mainstream paganism would have us believe. They have worked alongside humanity for thousands upon thousands of years, looking after and supporting us throughout our various endeavors. They would not do those things if they didn't at least like us a little bit. Take care, and have a great day/night. ☺️🧡