#the branch hit the glass in front of his face to be clear he is unharmed though the way the machine is hitching he might get shook right ou

[ghostsinthecellar]

neighbor's pond has been low since The Incident and he's been working on one of the edges, trying to shore it up, and it finally worked and the pond filled back up yesterday during the rain. today, low again. so he borrowed the digger he used to originally make the pond and it working on that one specific spot again. anyway. just watched him fight with a dangling branch that the digging arm was getting caught up on, turn the whole machine around, and then get basically smacked in the face with the branch when it followed him. he climbed out of the machine pulled the branch down and pitched it into the woods it was very funny

[moonstruckme]

also i LOVE your poly!marauders apocalypse au (so creative btw!! i'm obsessed!!) and would be so down to read something in that universe where the reader gets hypothermia or something like that hehe !!!! <333333

Thanks for requesting lovely!

cw: mild hypothermia

apocalypse poly!marauders x fem!reader ♡ 1.2k words

You keep tripping, which is mildly embarrassing. You think it’s a combination of fatigue and the general numbness that’s pervaded your body even through the layers you’d put on when you’d packed up the campsite that morning. You’d all agreed that, with the death eaters on your trail, it’s really only safe to stay in one area for a few days at a time, even with all the protections you place around your sites. But that means days where, instead of lounging around your tent, listening to the radio and plotting for the Order, you use all the daylight you have to hike through the wintry woods until you’re far enough away to set up another camp. 

Sirius glances back when you stumble again, the toe of your boot catching on a branch you hadn’t seen buried in the snow. It’s a more dramatic affair than it should be, and you barely get your other foot out in front of you fast enough to avoid face-planting into the leaf litter. 

Your shivering worsens as another gust of wind burns your face, making your thick jacket feel like mesh. You think this has to be the worst moving day your group has had yet. The cold is the same, but the sun hasn’t so much as peeked from behind the clouds all day and the wind makes it nearly unbearable. The snow is thick enough that you’ve started stepping in the boys’ footprints to save energy. One of the many perks of taking up the rear. 

You nearly hit Sirius when he stops in front of you. 

“This clearing looks about as good as any,” James is saying, but Remus looks hesitant. 

“I don’t know,” he frets. “Do you think it’s far enough? We’ve been slow today.” 

“You’re tired,” James says kindly. You look at Remus, noting his slouched posture, the weariness he’s never quite learned to hide from his expression. You’re not sure how you didn’t notice his exhaustion before. You’re usually more aware of those things. “And it’s horrid out here. Let’s just call it a night, and if you’re still anxious about it tomorrow we’ll go a bit further.” 

“I can make it further tonight.” 

“It’s not all about you, Moony,” Sirius drawls. He looks especially monochrome against all the fresh white snow, you think. His superblack hair is as eye-catching as neon. “I’ve got a rock in my shoe I’d love to get out, and I know y/n’s knees have to be black and blue from the way she’s been falling for the past hour.” 

His scheme works; Remus looks to you, arguments of his own fortitude forgotten. “Are you tired, dove? You want to stop?” 

You shrug. “Yeah, I guess. It’s cold.” 

Suddenly all three boys seem focussed intently on you. You’re not sure why. You don’t actually recall much of what you’d been talking about. 

“Could you say that again?” James asks you. His brows are stitched together and his eyes have gone all sharp behind his glasses. 

“I just said it’s cold.” 

“Why’re you talking like that, doll?” Sirius takes a step toward you, then looks to Remus. “Why is she slurring?” 

“I don’t know,” Remus says softly. He’s looking at you weird, too. Frowny. “Yeah, let’s set up. Maybe she just needs a rest.” 

James spells the tent up quickly, then makes Remus stay and sit with you while he and Sirius set up the protections and everything else. The temperature inside the magical tent is cozy. Remus lights a fire in the grate to warm you all up. 

“Do you feel okay, lovely?” he asks, helping you out of your jacket. You sit on the bed, working off your shoes. 

“Yeah, just…just really tired.” 

He furrows his eyebrows, placing a palm on your cheek. You have no clue how it’s so warm, but a sigh escapes you as you lean into the touch. 

“When did you start tripping?” he asks you. 

You…you’re not sure. You can’t remember the first time it happened. How long had you been walking?

Your bemusement must show on your face, because Remus’ mouth pinches. His hand slides down to cup your face, fingers pressing oddly into your jaw. Frankly, you could care less where he puts them so long as he keeps touching you.

“Feeling better?” James asks, materializing behind Remus. You’re not sure which one of you he’s talking to, but you hum contentedly anyway. 

“I think she might be hypothermic,” Remus doesn’t look away from you as he talks, his eyebrows lowered like he’s waiting for you to answer a question you don’t remember him asking. His fingers press harder into your neck. “Her pulse is…scary weak.” 

James looks at you, and you look at Remus. 

“You really think so?” you ask him, befuddled. “I don’t feel…I’m only tired.” 

“Hypothermia makes you tired,” he tells you gently. “And you’re slurring your words, love.” 

You feel an icy tendril of fear snake around your spine. “I am?” 

“You’re alright.” James catches onto your panic quickly, leaning over Remus to give your shoulders a bolstering squeeze. “Let’s just get some of these layers off you, and then we’ll swaddle you in blankets.” He starts easing off your jumper, leaving you in just your undershirt. You’re newly cognizant of the sluggishness of your movements as you raise your arms to help him. “Once you sit by the fire for a bit, you’ll be feeling back to normal in no time.” 

You nod numbly, lifting your bum to tug off the jeans you’d worn over leggings. James takes the blanket from the bed and wraps it around you while Remus goes to find more in the other room. 

“Poor love,” James coos, dropping a kiss to your head. “You’re shaking like a leaf.” 

“No duh,” Sirius says, the tent flap letting in a blast of cool air behind him. “It’s fucking freezing out.” 

James offers him a sorry smile. “We think she’s got hypothermia.” 

Sirius sobers, stormcloud eyes flickering to you. “Shit, really? How bad is that?” 

“Not too bad, I don’t think,” Remus says, nudging past him with a stack of blankets in his arms. “I mean, it’d be great if I’d thought to bring any books on that sort of thing, but I’m fairly sure if it were bad she’d be more confused and a bit…blueish.” He drapes a blanket over your shoulders, letting James pull it tighter and tuck it about as he wishes. “Do you feel any better?” 

“I think so,” you say quietly. It’s a bit unnerving to be at the center of so much alarm like this. You do feel better being out of the cold, but you’re not sure if that’s what he’s asking. “It’s a little hard to tell.” 

“You don’t seem like you’re slurring as badly,” James evaluates. He cups the back of your neck, planting a kiss on the frozen tip of your nose. “I think you’re getting better already, lovie.” 

Your face certainly feels warmer. 

Sirius grins at your flustering, though it’s dampened by worry. “What about a hot chocolate?” he asks, tone unusually gentle. “Does that sound like it might help?” 

“I’m fine,” you say, and he disregards you immediately, posing the same question to Remus. 

“Would that help?”

Remus shrugs. “It could. Doubt it would hurt. James, love, I think she’s got enough blankets.” 

James frowns, peering through the layers of covering to find your face. “Do you feel warm enough, angel?” 

You blink, owlish. “I think so?” 

He shakes his head. “Sounds far from certain. More blankets it is. Sirius, get started on the hot chocolate.” 

[despacito-uwu16]

The Climax

Kenji Sato x Journalist! Reader

Enemies To Lovers | Foced Proximity | Pining

<- prev next ->

“Now I see you out here on your own, and you been. Sippin' on the Hennessy, like you don't remember me. Girl, we both know, don't pretend. That we ain't got history” - Tension by Jack & Jack

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Ken waved at you as you pull up in his driveway. As soon as you opened the trunk, Kenji immediately took your bags.

“I could’ve done it myself”. You said.

“I wanted to be a gentleman”. Ken mockingly bows.

“Whatever”. You sighed as you follow him into his home.

You look around his spacious house. He has everything. A nice kitchen, a huge living room, a view of the ocean. Not gonna lie, you were pretty impressed.

“Were you always this spoiled”? You turn to Ken.

“Being an only child has his perks”. He says as he walks up to you with a cup of coffee. “Consider it an olive branch”. He extend the mug to you.

“Thank you”. You take the mug from him.

“Now, before we begin the two month long interview, I want to make two things clear”. Kenji begins. “One, you’re allowed to ask me anything, but I get to choose what to answer”.

“Then what’s the point of me asking you questions if you’re just gonna dodge them”.

“Anyways”. He continues,

“The second and most important thing, you’re free to roam around here but you’re not allowed in the basement”. He

“What’s in the basement”? You ask.

“None of your business”. He retorts.

“Alright then”. You put your hands up in defense.

“I look forward to the next two months. You will not be disappointed”. He extends his hand to shake.

“I look forward to this being over”. You smirked as you shake his hand.

~

The first couple of weeks, you were adjusting to your new environment. Despite you trying to be in good graces with him, you still found him annoying.

One time, you were in the living room peer reviewing an article when Ken enters the room with a jump rope. You paid no attention to him as he did his exercise in front of the glass window. But Kenji being the little prick he is, took off his shirt and threw it on the couch, landing on your head. You threw it down on the ground in disgust and looked to see Ken doing little tricks with his jump rope. All while being shirtless. He knows his plan is working when you noticed you staring at his reflection through the glass window.

“Like what you see”?

“I’d rather be hit by a baseball again”. You closed your laptop and walked off.

During your first interview with him, he was avoiding your questions and changing the subject left and right.

“You know, you said I get to ask you anything, and yet you’re not answering any of my questions”. You said.

“Remember rule number ? I get to pick and choose what questions to answer. Also, you said to “be honest”. He says while using air quotes.

“Being honest means answering the questions correctly”. You deadpanned.

“Oh, I didn’t know I was supposed to tell you what you wanted to hear. Is that how you managed to end an athlete’s career? By manipulating them into telling you their secrets and use it against them”? Ken presses on.

“That’s not how journalism works Ken, I just report what i see and hear. I don’t need to manipulate anyone. If it causes a disruption in an athlete’s career, then so be it”. You cross your arms.

“You’re evil, you know that”? Ken glares at you.

“You’re impossible, you know that”? You retort.

“If me being impossible means seeing how sexy you look riled up, then yeah, I love being impossible“. He says.

You stood up and bend down on the table. His eyes met yours, both of your faces inches away from each other.

“Fuck off”. You sneered, ending the recording. You straightened your back and grabbed your recorder off the table. “I’m so over this”. You roll your eyes.

“Oh okay. Well the door is right behind you. Although a little FIY, if you walk out that door, it’s bye bye journalism career”. He leans back all smug.

You groan. Of course he’s going to bring up the blackmail, and it won’t stop until it’s over. Anger boils inside of you. He’s making this interview and your life a living hell. You really want to slap Ken in the face, but your integrity is keeping you from getting potentially fired.

Ken starts to laugh at you. “If only you could see what I see… you look super red right now. I should piss you off more often”.

The interview ended early and Ken ran off to “take care of business”, while you went back to the guest room, and took out your frustrations on a pillow.

~

When it came to watching Ken’s games, he paid for a private box, isolating you from everyone from the media. Some of your coworkers side eyed you, but all you could do was just sit there. You’d watching giants loose over and over again. From him attempting to break a bat, to his emotional breakdowns at home. Apart of you found this amusing. But another part of you feels a bit of sympathy.

You left the guest room to get a glass of water, when you saw Ken in the kitchen stuffing mochi donuts in his face.

“You know that’s not really healthy”. You commented.

He looks at you and takes another bite out of the donut. He pushes the donut box towards you implying for you to take one, but you declined.

For some reason, you feel bad for him. Sure, he’s annoying and rude, but you noticed that he wasn’t as confident as he was during college. Even during your interviews, he didn’t make any snarky comments and instead gave out short and closed off answers. It made you wonder what going on with him.

The next evening, Ken came home all tired and defeated. As he laid down on the couch, a sweet and tangy aroma caught his attention. He peaks into the kitchen to see you cooking something.

“Whatcha doing?” He asks.

“I’m making dinner”. You said.

“Why”?

“Cause I’d rather not eat a box of donuts”. You gestured to the unopened box of mochi donuts on the kitchen counter

He looks at you confused. You never do anything nice. Like ever.

“Go sit, food’s almost ready”. You gestered to the table as you took the asparagus out of the oven.

Five minutes later, you put down a plate with some teriyaki salmon and oven roasted asparagus, and then placed a bowl of white rice on the side.

“Smells good”. He compliments before taking a bite of his teriyaki salmon. His eyes widened. The flavors were bursting on his tounge, something he hasn’t experienced in weeks.

“Y’know, you didn’t have to do all of this”. Ken says with a mouthful of rice and salmon, making you internally gag.

“I wanted to. Considering how long I’ll be staying here, I’d rather not eat junk food everyday”. You said, taking a bite of the asparagus before continuing. “Also, I felt bad for pushing you the last few weeks”. You admitted.

“It’s not really a big deal, you were just doing your job. I promised you the exclusive, and I didn’t fulfill my end of the bargain. I’m sorry”.

“Wow, an apology from Ken Sato. Can I quote you on that”? You joked.

“Haha, funny”. He rolled his eyes as he finished the last of his rice. “The food’s good. Y’know if you were my personal chef instead of my interviewer, I would’ve probably tolerated you more”.

“Aaaand you ruined it”. You begin to get up out of your seat.

“Gee, didn’t know there was a moment between us”.

While you were collecting the dirty plates, you both felt the ground shake. At first you thought you were just imagining things, but the ground shook again, and the lights were flickering. You try to maintain your balance as the ground repeatedly shook.

“Oh my God, was that an earthquake”? You begin to panic.

Kenji quickly got up from his seat and began to run towards the basement.

“Ken, where are you going”? You yelled.

“I’ll be right back. Stay where you are”. He instructs. The next thing you know, he disappears into the basement. The ceiling began to crack and you immediately took cover underneath the table.

A few seconds later, the shaking stops and the light stops flickering. But Ken was nowhere to be found. The elevator leading to the basement was still open. While you were told to not go into the basement, deep down you wanted to know if he was okay.

Suddenly, you hear a crash and yelling coming from the basement. With no hesitation, you ran into the elevator and made your way down to the basement.

“Ken”? You ran out of the elevator. But before you could start looking for him, you ran into what you thought was a wall. As you stumbled down and into your butt, you hear high pitch laughter.

“Not funny”! You yelled. “Ken Sato, whatever BS you’re pulling right now, you need to cut it”-

You look up at the supposed wall and your jaw drops. Your eyes met the eyes of a 20 foot lizard baby who was happily chirping at you.

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A/N: Part 4 and 5 will be uploaded on Wednesday and Thursday Respectively.

Likes, Comment and Reblogs are always appreciated. If you want to be on the tag list, lemme know! :)

⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺

Tag List:

@imconfusedbutok @deadbydad-writes

@introvertthief @rdjsprincess

@boomboom-tanjiro2019 @moyadorogaya

@holylonelyponyeatingmacaroni @lovingyeet

@ofichan @nina-from-317 @lunaryasha

@kocho-catt @scarasw1f3 @mochminnie

@ritzes28 @aise-30 @ghostatrixx @sorilyae

@marshhbs @badbishsblog

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[illwritethanks]

Freedom -Part 2

Pairing- Sully family x niece!reader

WC- 1,194

Genre- FLUFF

Warnings- Jake and Norm co-parenting, Jake being daddy :>, y/n being a brat just like her father, other than that none <3

A/N- this was a little longer than the other chapter, if you’re wonder why this is a little different to how the other chapter was written it’s because I trying think how a five year old would speak :’) also I’m going to write some more chapters like this before the actual story begins because I want people to know what the reader is like and why she’s like that. Again this is not proof read

Quick info: (Y/n)- 5 years old, Neteyam- 3 years old, Kiri- 2 years old and Lo’ak- 2 years old

Her heart beat was thumping in her ears, her breath coming out slow as her finger nails clawed into the earth. Her tail making sharp flicks as her eyes zoned into her prey, ears twitching as she listened for any sudden movement. The back was facing her, rocking sided to side as they hummed a tune, the preys eyes locked onto a small figure in front of it as they played in the small pond.

Creeping forward she made sure to stay light on her hands and feet as she pushed the leaves away. She placed her hand on a branch causing it to snap underneath her. The preys ear flinched towards her as it turned its head slightly.

Now. She thought.

Running out underneath the bushes, y/n jumped onto the preys back, her arms wrapping around her neck.

Netyiri laughed out, “your getting much better, y/n, but why do you still choose to hunt like a Palulkan?”

Y/n giggled as she looked down into netyiri’s arms, her younger brother and sister, Lo’ak and Kiri, sleeping in her arms while Neteyam played in the pool of water in front of them, she sighed.

“What is it, my child?” Netyiri asked as y/n came to sit next to her.

Y/n huffed out, “when can they play with me?” she picked at the grass next to her.

The older na’vi let out a small sigh, “they are too young to play.” Y/n hummed not paying attention finding the grass much more interesting then what she is saying.

She just didn’t understand it. Yes, Neteyam couldn’t really talk yet but he could walk and run, Kiri not far behind, but not as fast as her though. She felt like they was miss out and because she is five and was learning new things everyday she just wanted to teach them as well so they could play together.

She grunted. Her thoughts clear as day on her face.

Netyiri smiled at the young girl, “don’t worry, you will all be able to play together soon.” All she got as a reply was a small grunt and frown across her face. Netyiri’s smile got wider, this small child in front of her was so much like her father and mother she couldn’t believe it.

Leaves rustling behind them caught their attention, y/n quickly moved in front of Netyiri and her sibling, ears pinned back, hissing at the figure coming closer.

Jake quickly emerged from the foliage, hands raised, “whoa, whoa. Calm down fire cracker.”

He came closer picking up the young girl in his arms, the frown still plastered across her face.

“Is it time?” Netyiri asked, to which Jake nodded in response. Y/n tilted her head, ‘time for what?’.

Jake emerged from the jungle towards a metal box, while y/n sat on his shoulders, she tilted her head, she could hear something like talking and laughing but she couldn’t understand it.

When Jake got closer he removed her off his shoulders and placed her in front of him. He kneeled down looking her in the eyes, “now listen, kid. When we enter don’t leave my side, and do not touch anything.” She nodded in reply, giving him a salute, “yes, sir.”

He rolled his eyes as he gently grabbed her hand and leaded her into the building. Y/n was instantly hit with a weird smell that she couldn’t describe. She’s never smelt something like this, it felt like her nose was burning.

She looked around, everything was white with the occasional blue here and there. Large glass tubes that was filled with water and Na’vi looking people floating in them. It was unsettling. Seeing grown adult Na’vi’s looking so… weak. She scooted closer to Jake.

And that was when she saw them. Sky people. Her heart was pounding against her rib cage. How could it not? She maybe young but she’s heard tales of the sky people from the elders of her clan and what they did to Pandora.

What they did to her Mother and Father.

She hissed when one of them got closer than she liked, she had to get out of here. She had to protect Jake.

“Jake! We need to go.” She whispered to him, tugging at his hand as her eyes bolted around.

Jake smiled, “it’s fine, they will not hurt us. They are our allies.”

What? He must be joking right? Sky people… as our allies?

Just then a small pink man approached them, his arms wide and a smile spread across his face, his voice loud hurting her ears. Jake returned this, smiling. ‘What is happening? Has he gone mad?’ She thought.

After they finished hugging the pink man turned to her, bending down to her his smile getting wider, his mouth was moving and sound was coming out but she had not a clue what this Tspìng looking man was saying to her. Feeling threatened she moved closer to Jake, bearing her fangs at the unknown man, to which he jolted back in surprise.

“Whoa, calm down, y/n! He’s not a threat.” Jake said, placing his hand on top of her head to sooth her. “What are we doing here, Jake.” Y/n asked.

He smiled at her, trying to realise the tension building up in her small body, “we’re just going to be having some lesson with, Norm. Okay?”

She didn’t like this not one bit.

And she was right. For the last couple of months Jake had been taking her to meet with Norm to have English lessons in the metal box. She had no clue why. Why would she learn the language of demons? The same people who hurt her family and tried to destroy their planet! No matter what Jake and Norm tried to bribe her with she will never speak the foul language. Never.

“Please, y/n. Just learn a little, that’s all I’m asking.” Norm pleaded with her in Na’vi, his head pressed against the table they was sitting at.

“No.” She simply replied, her small arms crossed against her chest as she looked around the room she was being held hostage in.

Jake let out a loud sigh. Kneeling on the floor (due to the fact that he couldn’t fit in a chair anymore) he looked y/n in the eyes, “y/n just learn a little so you can communicate with Norm. That’s all I’m asking. If something happens to you and Netyiri or I are not with you, you will be able to talk to and understand Norm.”

This made her pause, if something had happened to her in which she couldn’t get back to her family and clan then the next best option would be these people. As much as y/n didn’t want to agree with it, it was the truth. She grunted, “okay.” To which the two men sighed out in relief.

But that didn’t last long, because soon Neteyam, Kiri and Lo’ak was walking, running and talking! All her time was spent with her younger siblings. Being the oldest she had to look after them and make sure they wasn’t getting into trouble.

She would do anything for her siblings.

Taglist: @bubble-blu

[peachesofteal]

Reaper

This isn't a thing, it's just... a thing.

Simon Riley/reader - Grim Reaper Simon Riley 1k words Warnings-tags: ... none? Silver tongue and scythe.

The porch is decorated with mirrors. They’re all strung together on fishing line, clear, nearly iridescent strings that move with the wind, reflective glass occasionally chiming when they hit one another. It almost looks like art, beams of sunlight getting caught in the mirrors and reflecting off into different directions, across the worn wooden boards or into the two front windows, sneaking past the white lace curtains that are pulled shut. 

A broom is nailed to the right of the front door, it’s gnarled and twisted handled complimented by frayed bristles, fuzzy twine wrapped around where the two meet. In the front garden bed, a small, trimmed tree stretches upwards, its branches adorned with upside down glass bottles. 

He shifts his weight from one leg to another while he waits for an answer to his knock. He keeps catching his own reflection in the many mirrors that swing in the breeze, shards and squares and circles all reflecting his own gaze back to him, over and over. He realizes, right then and there, that this, will be more difficult than usual.  

You open the door. Just a crack, not enough for him to fully see, not enough to even get a good idea of what you look like. 

“Excuse me, I’m-“ 

“What do you want.” Your voice is flat. Unamused. 

“Well, I’m your neighbor, just moved into the old Callaway place down the road. Thought I’d stop by, introduce myself.” He twists his tone into something American, something southern, but you don’t take the bait.  

The door doesn’t budge. The wind picks up, and the leaves of the sugar maple in the yard rustle against each other. 

“Great. Did you need something?” 

“Just, wanted to meet my neighbors, I guess. It’s just you, and the house up the way so I figured-“ 

“You figured wrong.” He bites his tongue, nearly swallows it when you go to force the door closed.

“Wait. Sorry, I know… it’s rude to just show up unannounced but I promise, I’m just tryin’ to be neighborly. I’m Simon.” He doesn’t extend his hand because he already knows how that will go. You trace him from his black leather shoes to the top button of his shirt, cinched tight beneath his throat. A cat meows from behind you, black and shiny, sitting on its haunches with its head tilted, regarding him silently. A familiar? Bloody hell.

You stay silent, the only response a raised eyebrow. 

“I hear you’re named after a princess.” He tries to pry you open but fails, glancing down at the familiar before attempting a different approach. “Cat got your tongue?” The joke bounces, and you try to shut the door in his face, but he sneaks the tip of his shoe in front of the frame, allowing it to slam into the side of his foot. “Come on, now.” He shifts his voice into something silken, honey smooth and sweet, a tempting pull for all who hear it. 

Well, almost all. 

Your eyes narrow. 

“Get off my porch.” The maple creaks, and something pushes your voice through him, as a warning, an evoking. Marvelous creature, I wonder what weight your soul carries? Will you let me strip it from you, taste it for myself?

“That’s no way to treat a neighbor.” 

“You and I both know, you’re no neighbor.” His lips crack into a smile, parting to reveal a beautiful row of pearly white teeth that you cannot see behind the balaclava. The wind whistles again, harder. The smile melts into a thin-lipped frown. 

“No. But they say I drive a hard bargain.” It’s your turn to frown, and you do it so beautifully, lips pulling down into a pout, cheeks sucking inward with displeasure. Your nose wrinkles in distaste. 

“There is no one here to bargain with you. Take your silver tongue and sickle elsewhere.” A flash of rage thunders across your eyes, and something burns in the pit of his stomach. Intriguing. 

“Surely there is something you want? Something you would give in exchange?” You don’t flinch, don’t pause to consider, don’t even blink. 

“You’ll have better luck down the road.” You instruct him, daring to point a finger over his shoulder, directing past where the trees curl around your gravel driveway. 

“Now, Buttercup.” He drags the first vowel of the nickname out, mimicking the way you grandmother said it, drawling it long and deep. You scowl. “I wonder…” He steps closer, close enough he can smell the scent of your spearmint-tinged breath, see the flecks of brown and gold that gather around your irises. “Do you dare venture out, after dark? Or do you resist the call of the woods, staying safe up in your house, locked away.” 

“I venture plenty.” He grins. 

“Do you now?” Let me rip you open, darling. Let me drink your soul from the threads of your being. “They say all the fun happens at night; you know.” His hand finds his pocket, slipping into the black linen, and you tense. When he produces a card, silver in the shine of the midday sun, your shoulders ease, following the movement of his hand with your eyes. “My card.” He flourishes it towards you, and you lift a lip in a snarl. 

“I said, get off my porch.” You cock you head, tilting your chin just so, straightening your spine in challenge. 

“Take it. Just in case.” He watches the hesitation in the tightening lines at the corner of your mouth, the subtle quirk of your lips. Take it, buttercup. A bead of sweat trickles from the hair behind you ear, tracing down the curve of you neck before it disappears down into your shirt. 

The air around him snaps to a halt, and your fingers hover in the air above his. Brave little lamb. For a second, your eyes meet his fully, and a tangle of webs weave in the space between him and you. No one moves, or breathes. The world stands still.

The wind shrieks through the maple. 

The spell breaks. 

You snatch the card and slam the door in his face. 

He chuckles. He’ll give you a few hours and hope you come to your senses. He hates reaping by force. 

[missbabyjay]

I Could Never Leave You Behind - Pedro Pascal x Reader

ANGST & FLUFF

MASTERLIST - CHECK OUT MY PAGE FOR MORE!

I'm just messing around with some random prompts, trying to improve my writing and step outside of my comfort zone! Hope you enjoy :)

Warnings/Content: Mature, Angst, Fluff, A little bit of spice, Alcohol

Summary: Your thoughts get the best of you, leaving you feeling confused... when all of a sudden Pedro arrives home earlier than planned.

Word Count: 1.5 K

Feel free to send me requests! I am writing for Pedro, Agent Whiskey, Javi Gutierrez, and Bill Hader hehe

. . .

The warm, evening wind tickled your skin as you sat comfortably nuzzled in the corner of the loveseat that was placed on your balcony, facing the warm and mellow sunset as the day said goodbye. You were treating yourself to a glass of chilled pinot noir; your favourite. As you brought the delicate, crystal clear glass to your hungry lips you fiddled with the soft, plush blanket that wrapped around you - wishing the blanket would be replaced with your partner’s loving embrace.

As you continued to watch the sun die out behind the horizon you couldn’t help your mind from wandering. It had been a couple of months since you last saw Pedro - he was finishing up the filming for The Last Of Us, far away from you in Canada.

You knew what you were in for when you began seeing Pedro; he was constantly looking for new ways to branch out in his career, whether it was a new movie or an ongoing series he was already a part of. As much as you tried to understand, you couldn’t fully grasp the life of an actor. You were normal, for lack of a better word. You worked as an assistant for a local magazine in New York City. Sure, you lived what one could say was a “bustling NYC lifestyle”, but you weren’t a celebrity. You worked a regular schedule, and always had time for your personal life outside of your career. That was the big difference between the two of you.

You were longing for the touch of Pedro’s large hands on your body, caressing your soft skin while his lustful eyes soaked in your presence. The touch of his lips on yours… then your neck, lingering to your collarbone, trailing downwards… 

Suddenly you were snapped out of your daze when your phone vibrated in your lap - indicating you were receiving a text. You sighed, using your free hand to gently toss over your phone so that you were facing the bright screen contrasting with the dusk of the night that had fallen over you. 

Pedro: Mi Amor, I will be coming home in a few days. I can’t wait to see your beautiful face. I love you

You: Sounds good baby, I love you too.

Your eyes were locked with the words placed across your phone’s screen. You loved Pedro so much, but you were reaching a point of uncertainty. Constantly being away from each other for long periods of time was beginning to take a toll on your mental health. You knew you had the strength within you to overcome these feelings, but at this moment in time you couldn’t seem to find it. You were aching for him to be home, long enough for the two of you to enjoy what you thought would be a regular, domestic life. 

You downed the remainder of your ruby red wine, quickly reaching for the sleek bottle to fill your glass again. The sun had completely set at this point, and you were accompanied by small, glowing lights you had placed on the railing of the balcony. You tried to clear your mind by scrolling on social media - catching up on celebrity gossip and trending tik-toks. Eventually the evening air chilled and you figured it would be time to make your way inside.

“9:05” read the clock on your phone screen. “Time for bed I guess,” you mumbled to yourself.

You gathered the lush blanket, tossing it over your shoulder, then grabbed the nearly empty wine bottle that sat in front of you. As you made your way inside you realised the effects of the liquids you had consumed seemed to have not hit you until you stood. You rubbed your temple, and then placed the blanket on the couch. You proceeded to the kitchen to grab yourself some water and a few Advil - hoping this would cure the hangover you were bound to have in the morning. As you were pouring the cold and transparent liquid into your tumbler cup you heard the door for your apartment open. “What the fuck?” you thought to yourself, until you were met with the voice of Pedro, “Mi amor!”. You set down the glass and hurried to see Pedro placing his luggage against the wall, tossing his shoes to the side.

“What are you doing here? We were just texting, you said you weren’t going to be home for a few days?” you said, looking at pedro with a confused look. The amount of wine you had drenched your system did not make this moment any more believable, “Am I really that drunk?” you thought to yourself.

“I wanted to surprise you baby,” he exclaimed as he approached you with open arms, eager to feel your body in his arms. But to Pedro’s surprise you broke down in tears.

An overwhelming feeling washed over you, leaving you to lose all control of your emotions. Your vision became blurred as tears took over your eyes, your heart rate rose to an extreme level indicating you were experiencing a panic attack. Your body froze, and you were unable to move leaving you locked in the moment. 

Pedro rushed to you, encapsulating you within his large arms. “Woah, baby, what’s going on?” he said as he caressed your head, rubbing his thumb against your cheek. You melted into him, not being able to put together a sentence. He let you unleash your feelings until you were able to control yourself, pulling away from him when you were capable. 

You grabbed Pedro’s hand, leading him to the couch. The man felt an immense amount of confusion, unable to connect any dots. His mind began racing at a speed that matched the racing thoughts controlling your mind at the moment; the both of you feeling overwhelmed. 

“I don’t know if I can do this P,” you began, seeing his face instantly drop.

“What do you mean you can’t do this? Do you mean you and I?” His voice was trembling, and he began to feel heat gathering in his chest. He had no clue where this came from.

“Not seeing you for months is so painful. I crave your presence. Texts and calls aren’t enough. I feel like you don’t have time for me, but I don’t want to stop you from the successful career you have built for yourself,” you said between gasps, slowly gathering yourself more and more.

Pedro grabbed both of your hands, and locked eyes with you. You could see the fear plastered on his face - this was not what he was expecting to come home to. “Mi amor, I don’t know where this is coming from. We have been living like this for over a year now… have you felt this way the entire time?”

You shrugged, leaving Pedro in a puddle of turmoil. You couldn’t put your finger on the reason why you suddenly felt these feelings - and you hated the state you were putting Pedro in.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have even brought this up. This was stupid. The last few months have been tough here at home and I am just overthinking things. I feel like I don’t deserve to be with someone who lives the lifestyle you live,” you mumbled, looking down and shaking your head in hopes of your thoughts disappearing.

Pedro took one of his hands and placed it on your cheek, before he spoke he kept his eye contact with you - giving you a gentle, yet sad smile, “Baby, you deserve everything you want. I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you. You are so understanding and supportive… I can’t imagine living without you, mi corazon.”

His pet names for you always sent shivers down your spine, leaving you in a pile of mush. Just hearing his reassurance allowed the tension in your body to be released, and although you still felt a sliver of those negative feelings, you wanted to do everything and anything for that man. 

You reached forward to lock your lips with Pedro’s. The warmth of your alcohol ridden cheeks radiating on to him, causing him to feel weak. Wrapping your arms around his neck you closed in the space between the two of you; this was the first time you had touched in what felt like a thousand trips around the sun. You soaked in his scent, and the feeling of his arms wrapped around you. The kiss quickly became heated; Pablo slowly led you to lay on the coach as laid overtop of you. 

Pedro released his lips from yours, gently placing his forehead on yours, “I promise you are worth everything to me, princesa. My life would be incomplete without you… as well as quiet,” he chuckled, “And why would I want that?” he finished with a cheeky smile. You giggled, and pulled him back towards your lips.

Relationships are a tough thing to navigate, but the passion that burned between the two of you was irreversible at this point. You would rather manoeuvre the ups and downs of life with Pedro at your side, even if that didn’t mean he was always physically there.

Tags: @purplerain85

[asa-do-your-thing]

"My Sweet"

18+ MINORS DNI Robb Stark x F!OC Part of my fanfiction Dreams WC: 2.3k Warnings // Tags: blowjob, doggystyle sex, kinda fluffy, eating out / fingering, p in v sex, unprotected sex

Alea eacta est, you've all voted and decided you wanted a smutty Robb scene, so here you go:

special thanks to @valeskafics and @aemonddtargaryen for your enthusiasm! <3

The courtyard of Winterfell was absent of people, except for a handful of guards near the entrance. Lucie's heart raced when she saw Robb step out from the keep, his blue eyes beaming with what seemed like secret joy. His cloak fluttered in the wind, as if it had been placed there to enhance his wavy auburn hair.

He cut an impressive figure, yet he remained remarkably amiable - he put forth all his effort to win her affections and Lucie had to acknowledge that he was indeed making progress.

Robb stepped forward and held out his hand towards Lucie. "Welcome my love," he said warmly, intertwining their fingers together when she accepted his offer. "Today we will celebrate your name day some place away from anyone who might disturb us."

"Is that so?" Lucie said with a small grin. "Where are you planning on taking me? Bear Island?"

Rolling his eyes, he guided her towards the godswood, the snow hitting her ruddy face like angry shards of ice. The weather really had taken a turn for the worse in the last few weeks.

"Not Bear Island, my Lady," he said with mock seriousness. "But I have something special planned for us."

Lucie felt her heart swell with excitement as Robb took her hand and led her through the godswood. They walked through the trees and underbrush, past the heart tree, surrounded by tall trunks of fir, pine, and birch. The snow still clung to the branches like frosting on a cake - a stunningly beautiful sight despite the chill in the air. As they walked further into the wood, Lucie noted a few streams of light peeking through the branches in front of them, casting shadows over their faces and onto the floor below.

Robb paused in front of a clearing where there stood an old wooden structure hidden away from view. He smiled at Lucie before looking up towards the window of what she could now see was an old greenhouse. "This is where we shall celebrate your name day," he said grandly as he opened up a small door towards one side.

Lucie stepped inside cautiously, blinking the moist heat away after it had hit her, surveying her surroundings: plants grew everywhere and exquisite blooms filled every corner of this warm paradise; beautiful colours that somehow seemed to be glowing even brighter against all the greenery surrounding them. But this wasn't just the usual glass garden; Lucie could tell that it had been specially prepared for her - there were ribbons woven into vines, candles lit along the pathways and a table set for two, laden with sweet treats and wine that looked like it had been carefully selected for the occasion.

Robb gestured to the table and pulled out a chair for her after taking off his coat and his gloves. "Please, my Lady, take a seat," he said with a smile as he sat across from her. "I hope you don't mind that I took the liberty of arranging all of this."

Lucie laughed softly and shook her head, following suit. "No, not at all," she said, taking in the sight of the feast before her. "It's beautiful. And I'm so grateful for all of this. You've truly outdone yourself."

Robb smiled at the praise, but his eyes never left her face. Lucie couldn't help but feel a shiver run through her when she saw the intensity of his gaze. She knew that look well - it was the same look he had given her the last time they had been alone together. Gods, would that happen every time they were to be alone now?

The awkward silence that had fallen over them only added to her anticipation, as Robb poured them each a glass of wine. "I have a question for you," he said, his voice low, his fingers playing around.

Lucie felt her stomach drop as she waited for what he might say next. "What is it?"

Robb leaned forward, his eyes alive with mischief. "Have you ever made love on a table, Lucie?" he asked.

Lucie sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes widening with surprise. She knew that Robb had a lusty streak to him - it was something that he had shown her before - but she hadn't expected him to be so... brazen. She tried to ignore the heat that flooded her face at the thought of what he was suggesting.

"I...I can't say that I have," she said, her voice barely a whisper, "You've been my first and then we were in the... bath."

Robb's face was still so close to hers, and she could feel the heat emanating from him. "Well then," he said, as he rose from his chair and walked around to her side of the table. "Let's fix that, shall we?"

Lucie could hardly breathe as Robb grabbed her hand and savagely pulled her towards him. In a whirlwind of passion, she felt herself being pulled closer to him. His hands fumbled with the plates and goblets on the table, shoving them aside until they eventually tumbled down to the ground.

"Robb!" Lucie gasped in shock, trying to break free from his grip even as her body ached for more. Suddenly Robb swept her up and placed her onto the table, yanking up her skirts and planting hot, hungry kisses onto her trembling thighs. The warmth of his lips sent shivers through every inch of her skin, even more so as he gently opened up her folds, placing the gentlest of kisses on her pearl.

"You're mine, my pretty girl...," he mumbled, the low rumble of his voice and the touch of his strong fingers on her little, sensitive bud made her gasp and moan with pleasure.

"Oh Robb!" she felt herself whisper, tangling her fingers in his hair and closing her eyes as he pleasured her. Suddenly, she felt herself losing control, her hands started to shake, her legs quiver. She bit her lip, hard, to muffle the cry as she felt herself unraveling. Last time, everything was so much slower, so much... different, it had taken her ages but now...

"Someone's excited," Robb whispered as he stood up again, giving her a slow kiss. "I want you to come around my cock. So, sweetling... you'll have to learn to be patient." With that, he moved back down again, gently tracing his finger over her cunny, grinning as she mewled, moaned, begged for him to glide it into her.

"You make me so happy," he murmured between kisses, his eyes still full of desire and want. His fingers moved inside her, curling and rotating until Lucie's breath was ragged with desire, unforgiving in their pace.

The intensity of the pleasure was almost unbearable, yet Robb kept her dangling on the edge, providing her with pleasure, but never enough to push her over. And soon, she found herself on the brink of pleasure and pain, her body writhing in ecstasy, yet denying itself the ultimate release.

Robb finally pulled away, leaving her shaking and sobbing with an ache that couldn't be filled, the sensation of being at the edge of pleasure and pain an unbearable agony. Lucie had never experienced anything like it before, and yet it was as if Robb had known exactly how to push her to her limits, how to control her pleasure and when to pull away.

Still trembling from the overwhelming pleasure, Lucie looked up into Robb's eyes and was met with awe and admiration. He was gazing at her as if she were the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. Slowly, he helped her sit up and cupped her face in his hands, giving her a sly smirk before kissing her sweetly.

"Luce, you can't expect me to do everything," he murmured against her lips. "Let me see what you're capable of." With a mischievous glint in his eyes, he guided her down onto the floor on her knees. "It's time for you to take charge."

Lucie's heart skipped a beat at his words, feeling a surge of excitement and nervousness wash over her. She had never been in control before, always being submissive to Robb's desires. But now, with him giving her permission to take charge, she couldn't resist the opportunity.

"Okay," she breathed out shakily as she positioned herself before him, nervously unlacing his breeches and pulling them down, helping his take them off completely. Her heart raced as she saw his hard member in front of her face and his hungry look as she looked up. She bit her lip nervously and gently guided it to her mouth.

"That's it," Robb encouraged her, reaching down to softly caress her hair. "Use your tongue."

Lucie followed his advice and began using her tongue on the tip of his cock. She felt it twitch against her tongue, and the knowledge that she was making him feel this way caused her own body to heat up immensely.

Robb groaned and gently, yet firmly held onto her braids. "Fuck, you're doing this so well, I..."

Trying to suppress a smile, Lucie gently slid him into her mouth, trying her hardest to breath and to take him in fully. Even though she'd have loved for him to have taken him right there on the table, this also had a certain... allure.

Her small hand gripped his hip, and she slowly began to bob her head up and down, listening to the noises he made. After a couple of minutes, she felt his him stiffening and he held her head down, gently thrusting his hips while she took him in fully. She couldn't believe it herself, but she quickly pulled back from him, wiping away the small strand of spit that was on her chin.

Robb opened his eyes in suprise and grinned, motioning to the table. "Fuck, Lucie, you little minx... Get up on the table. All fours."

Lucie followed his instructions, crawling up onto the table and spreading her arms and legs so she was leaning over the edge, her small round ass sticking up in the air. She gasped as she felt him spread her ass cheeks and grab them tightly, so tightly that she was sure he'd leave marks on them.

"Ahn, Robb... I... Please..."

"Such a good girl, aren't you? So wet for me, my sweetling, so desperate for my cock," he whispered huskily into her ear before nipping at it playfully.

Lucie took a deep breath and reached back to grasp Robb's throbbing erection in one hand while using the other to guide it towards her wet opening. She could feel its heat against the sensitive skin between her legs and couldn't resist rubbing herself against it teasingly.

Robb groaned loudly at the sensation, his fingers tightening around Lucie's hips, urging her to continue. She did, positioning herself hesitantly and letting him push in his big, throbbing member, making her squirm and moan.

Gently, he pulled out and thrust himself back in, rocking back and forth, pulling out slowly and then pushing back in as she let out a loud cry of pleasure, his cock filling her up in a way she had never experienced before. Taking a deep breath, she rocked back onto him, allowing him to push even deeper inside her, the sensation sending waves of pleasure throughout her body.

"My, my, Lucie," Robb groaned softly, his hands on her hips moving in a circular motion, his thrusts becoming more and more powerful. "You are such a good girl for me..."

Lucie could feel her pleasure rising again as she let out small moans of delight and pleasure, even more so as Robb started to finger her clit. The pressure inside her was almost unbearable at that point, and as Robb continued to pleasure her, she was overwhelmed with the feeling of ecstasy, shuddering hard as she felt herself tightening around his cock.

"Ah! That's it, fuck... there you go my sweet," Robb's grip on her hips became tighter and he thrust himself deeper into her, a low moan escaping his lips as he felt her tighten even more around him.

"I'm... I... Robb..." Lucie whispered, her voice sounding hoarse as she worked towards her release.

"That's it, my sweetling, come for me, let go..."

With these words pushing her over the edge, Lucie let out a loud cry of pleasure as she fell apart on the table underneath him, her orgasm shaking her small body. Her fingers clenched around the tablecloth with such force, her knuckles tuned white.

Robb groaned loudly as he followed after her, groaning out her name and emptying himself inside her as he found his own pleasure in her tight embrace.

As he pulled out of her, Lucie gasped in surprise, feeling slightly weak from her orgasm. Robb caught her as her legs gave out beneath her, holding her close to him before laying her gently onto the table.

Smiling, he reached over to grab a cloth and wiped her down gently before taking his time brushing away the sweat from her neck and back. He then turned his attention to her hair, untangling the knots in her braids and fixing them carefully until they were once again styled in their original formation.

"No one's ever going to notice anything," he whispered into her ear.

Lucie, slowly getting back to her senses grinned and pulled down her dress once again and glances over the smashed cakes and puddles of wine on the floor. "No, how could they. Let's just say Grey Wind caused this," she said with a giggle.

"You're right. We'll say he got jealous of the attention you were getting."

They laughed as Robb helped her off the table. "Direwolves are known for they love of sweet treats."

[nightsandrewrites]

500 Years

Pairing: Cassian x Azriel

Summary: How was he meant to reanalyse years, decades worth, of interactions in a moment. How long had he been blind to the Shadowsinger's intentions?

Word count: 4.6k

Warnings: Angst, jealousy

a/n: My first Acotar fic, hope you enjoy it!

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

The silence had stretched on for too long. Snow crunched under Cassians boot as he shifted to his left, moving ever so slightly into Keirs peripheral.

“And what will you give me in return?” Keir sneered at his daughter.

Mor had organised this little rendezvous in the hopes of making a trade with him. There was an artifact, locked away in the Hewn City, that Rhysand thought might be a connection to the Cauldron. With a small smile, Mor had offered to deal with her father and take just one task off the High Lord's overflowing plate.

“We could just take it from you.” Cassian said as he stepped forward but Mor grabbed his forearm and gave him a look that said she came prepared for this.

He stepped back beside her and the wind that picked up around them had him glancing amongst the trees. Azriel was there somewhere, deep in the shadows. When Mor had come to them for assistance with meeting her father, Cassian and Azriel had not hesitated in agreeing to help. They didn’t think Keir was dumb enough to attempt an ambush here in the snow covered forest clearing, but Azriel stayed hidden out there in the branches just in case.

Mor stepped forward and pulled a small cloth from her pocket. She unfolded it to reveal a ring, a bright gold thick band with a jet black stone embedded in it. The stone was flat on top and Cassian could make out something engraved on the top.

“A family heirloom.” Mor said simply. Huh, she must have snatched it long ago during one of their visits under the mountain. 

Keirs eyes darkened.

“You filthy whore, stealing from your own blood!” he spat. Cassian watched as Keir’s hands balled into fists. 

“Get your dirty hands away from it!” Blood had rushed to his face as he leapt forward to snatch the ring from Mor. She jumped back and Cassian easily slid between them.

“You bastard, you son of a-“ Keir went to lunge for Cassian but in a flash Azriel had him grappled from behind. One muscular arm around Keirs chest, pinning his arms down, the other holding a knife against his throat.

“I think that’s enough from you.” Azriel growled into his ear.

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

“Well that went well” Mor exhaled twenty minutes later as they walked down a quiet street of Velaris.

“We’ll figure out another way to get it.” Cassian clamped a hand on Mor’s shoulder in reassurance. “We can always send Az in.” he smirked over his shoulder at the Shadowsinger trailing close behind.

Azriel gave him a small smile and nod. They all knew they could have already had the artifact in hand. Rhysand was almost certain about where it was being stored and it would only take a day of reconnaissance for Azriel to locate and pocket it. But Rhys insisted on keeping in good faith with the Court of Nightmares and stealing would surely jeopardise the rocky truce they stood upon.

“How about we hit up Rita’s, we’ll come up with a new plan in the morning.” Cassian bumped Mor lightly with his wing trying to get her to cheer up. “Sure” she sighed but she smiled up at him “I could use a good night out.”

The trio took their regular table at Rita’s and kicked off the night with their usual round of drinks. It wasn’t long before Cassian was feeling that familiar haze in the back of his mind, he didn’t want to let it go. The freedom of releasing today's problems and making them tomorrows, so he lifted the glass in front of him and downed it to the bottom.

A few drinks later, he made his way to the floor of flowing bodies. He noticed Mor across the room already there twirling around with a group of regulars. Cassian kept to the outside of the crowd as he swayed, making sure to keep his wings in tight, avoiding knocking anyone to the ground. A small dark haired female approached him, her golden eyes flashing in the dim lights and he instinctively curled his arms around her waist as they danced together. She had a soft kind of beauty, her movements light and swaying, like smoke curling away from flames. Cassian decided he wouldn’t mind taking her home tonight, to be lost in that smoke for a little while. He lost track of how many songs they danced to when he glanced back at their table and caught Azriel's eye. He was brooding in his shadows, almost completely covered and Cassian scanned the crowd around him looking for the cause. Mor was a few groups away, wrists locked around the neck of a tall blonde fae he didn’t recognise. Based on the brief interaction he witnessed, he knew she had found her target for tonight.

Cassian sighed and turned back to his own dance partner. “I need to go help out a friend, maybe we can pick up where we left off next time.” He lifted her hand and placed a kiss to the back of her palm. She gave him a smile as she twirled back to her friends. He watched her go and damn Azriel was going to have to really make up for this. Cassian headed back to the table, Azriel still shrouded in his own shadows. He purposefully brushed his wing against Mors back as he passed. He knew that's all the communication she needed, one of the perks of being friends for centuries.

“How about one last round?” Cassian said as he leaned on the chair across from Azriel. “Sure” he replied as tendrils of shadow already began slipping away from him. Mor must have already stepped away from the blonde fae.

Cassian collected three drinks for them and returned to find Azriel and Mor sitting together, quietly chatting and chuckling away. He wished these two could just sort things out so he could stop playing mediator. He placed the drinks on the table and raised his glass. “To Velaris” he smiled. “To Velaris” his friends chorused and drank deeply.

“Hey, we’re heading up the hill for some more drinks if you want to join us?” The blonde fae from earlier now stood beside Mor, wearing what Cassian was sure was his most charming smile.

He interjected before the Shadowsinger could make a scene. “Trying to steal away our girl here?” Cassian said to him. The blonde turned as if noticing Cassian’s presence for the first time. “You’re welcome to join pretty boy, three is not too much of a crowd for me.” The blonde winked and his grin got impossibly wider. Cassian blinked, then smirked. He was used to propositions like these, hell didn’t Helion want this exact pairing? He just wasn’t expecting it from the fae male who had been drooling over Mor all night. Suddenly Azriel was on his feet. “How about you fuck off.” he snarled across the table. Cassian quickly jumped up and grasped his shoulder. The blonde turned his smirk to Azriel and raised an eyebrow at him, Azriel was then three seconds away from tearing his head off. “Okay we’re heading out.” he began tugging Azriel to the exit. “We’ll catch you in the morning.” he nodded to Mor. She just smiled and waved, completely unfazed by the confrontation.

Once outside Cassian dropped his grip on Azriel and didn’t even bother looking back as he launched into the air. A moment later the beat of a second pair of wings joined his. He cut through the sky, welcoming the cool night's touch on his skin and then landed with a soft thud on the roof of the House of Wind. A second, much quieter scuff of feet indicated Azriel’s landing behind him and Cassian whirled.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growled as Azriel dropped his face to the ground refusing to meet Cassian’s eye. “You can’t just lash out like that!”. He ran his hand through his dishevelled hair which had come loose from its binding earlier in the night.

“I know you’ve been carrying this thing for her, but she’s not yours Az, so you can’t be pulling that kind of shit.” Cassian made to step closer to him, but Azriel turned and walked over to the edge of the roof.

“I don’t have a thing for Mor” Azriel murmured quietly, Cassian had to strain even his Illyrian hearing to pick it up. “Oh please” Cassian threw up his arms “I don’t need to talk about the last centuries worth of incidents, just look at today!” “Today?” Azriel turned then and met Cassian with the steel stare of a true spymaster. Cassian brought up his hand to start counting off his fingers. “You jumped in when Keir was threatening Mor, when I clearly had it under control! You’re brooding at Rita’s because she’s dancing with some male! And let’s not forget how you were going to rip his head off just now!”

“You fucking think I did those things for Mor?” Azriel was now shouting back at Cassian and took one step toward him “I did them fo-” he seemed to catch himself before he finished. He straightened up and stretched out his wings. “It doesn’t matter.” He spoke quietly again, defeated.

“For what Azriel?” Cassian pushed. This was the most he had got out of him for the last decade or so, he wasn’t backing down now. Azriel simply glanced up at the sky, sadness written across his face and pushed off from the roof with one powerful sweep of his wings. Cassian watched him breach the wards and winnow away.

Cassian sighed and turned to the house. He needed a long bath and an even longer sleep. ---------------------------------------

As the hot water soaked into his stiff muscles, he mulled over his argument with Azriel. The Shadowsinger really needed to learn to control his emotions, to figure out better ways of coping with his Mor situation. But Azriel said it wasn’t about Mor, it was about… Cassian sunk further into the water, letting the ripples lap at his mostly submerged wings. He seemed to be telling the truth during their standoff on the roof, so what was it about? Azriel had jumped in with Kier, brooded in his shadows at Rita’s and then snapped when the blonde fae had propositioned Mor and hi- Cassian quickly sat up, sending water sloshing over the edge and onto the floor next to the sunken bath.

Azriel had intervened not when Keir had threatened Mor but when he had turned on Cassian. This afternoon's confrontation came swirling back to him, Keir beginning to lunge and “You bastard, you son of a-“.

Azriel had been almost completely lost to his shadows at Rita’s but hadn’t reappeared as Mor walked away from her partner but when Cassian had begun approaching the table again.

And Azriel hadn’t snarled at the blond fae's attempts at wooing Mor, only lashing out after his ministrations had turned to Cassian.

No, it definitely wasn’t about Mor.

Cassian pushed out of the tub and quickly dried himself off. He needed to think and if needed to think, he needed to pace. He returned to his room and threw on a pair of soft long pants and started his trail back and forth across the room.

How was he meant to reanalyse years, decades worth of interactions in a moment. Was every action that Cassian thought Azriel took for Mor actually for hi-, he couldn’t even bring himself to think it. To hope for it. How long had he been blind to the Shadowsinger's intentions? They had spent so many centuries together. He remembers teaching Azriel to fly from a small mountainside clearing over the water. How the wind had pulled through dark strands when they were able to take to the skies together for the first time. He remembers sitting in their shared Illyrian war tent, tending to his wounds waiting for Azriel to walk off the battlefield and through those flaps. When he eventually arrived something would loosen in his chest, his breathing becoming a little easier. He remembers all the times he paced across Rhy’s office waiting for the Spymaster to return from a mission. His pace becoming frantic when Azriel was running late, until Rhys would push him into the nearest armchair.

And he remembers when Azriel’s attention had started lingering on Mor and Cassian had pushed all those memories, those feelings, away. Cassian had always enjoyed the affections of males and females but Azriel quickly became forbidden. He couldn’t be selfish enough to jeopardise the close knit weave of the inner circle, on the tiny insignificant chance that the shadowsinger had any interest in him. But what if that small chance just became so much greater?

He needed to talk to Az. Cassian turned to the door, his heartbeat quickening and then froze. He should probably wait until he was sober, until they were both clear headed, to pull the truth from him. He’d need his full mental capacity to read Azriel clearly. He pivoted instead to his bed and flopped down on top of the covers. Thanks to his many drinks at Rita’s it was only moments until sleep found him. -----------------------------------------

Cassian awoke stiffly, popping limbs as he sat up. Maybe he should have had a few less drinks last night. Last night's confrontation and subsequent conclusions flooded back to him and had him moving swiftly to the bathroom. He splashed water over his face, pulled on a shirt from the armoire and paced down the hall to Azriel's room before he could talk himself out of it.

He gave one sharp exhale before bringing his fist up to knock. A moment passed with no response. He knocked again. When there was no answer, he pushed open the door only to find Azriel's bed empty. He moved toward the bed, sparing a glance for the bathroom which also stood empty, and felt along the sheets. Cold. So he hadn’t come back last night? Cassian returned to his room, dressed for the day in his usual Illyrian blacks and made his way to the roof. Maybe Az had fared better after last night's outing and decided to get in an early workout? When he found the roof empty as well, he leapt into the skies and set a straight course through Velaris. The morning sun glinted off the Sidra and warmed the span of Cassian's leathery wings.

A few minutes later he was knocking on the door to Rhysands study. “Come in Cassian.” Rhys called from inside. The High Lord was alone at his desk, flipping through papers and making small scratching notes. “Azriel, did you call for him last night? This morning?” Cassian tilted his head in question. “No” Rhysand sighed, “I didn't call for him.” He slouched back in his chair, not meeting Cassian’s eye. “But you know where he is.” It wasn’t a question, Cassian could tell he knew more than he was saying. “Cass, I-” he met Cassian's stare now, sorrow swimming in his violet eyes, “I don't know where he is, but he’s gone.” He nodded to a folded letter on the corner of his desk.

Cassian stepped forward and flicked open the note to a familiar scrawl.

My resilience isn’t what I thought it was, I’m sorry too have let you down. I’ll be gone by morning, give my love to our family. - Azriel.

He bawled up the letter in his fist and threw it into the fire that burnt in the hearth. He watched it curl and ignite before turning on his heel for the door.

“Cass.” Rhys called after him. Cassian half turned, not wanting to waste a second going after Azriel. Rhysand picked up an object from his desk and threw it to Cassians awaiting hands with ease. “Bring him home.” he nodded his dismissal.

Moments later Cassian’s wings beat hard, propelling him across the city. Azriel’s note said he would be gone by morning which meant he hadn’t left last night. He would have tied up loose ends, there would have been places he would want to see before disappearing for Cauldron knows how long. If he had already left the Night Court… he didn’t think anyone had a chance of tracking the spymaster down. That thought had him pushing his wings harder and he hoped he knew Azriel as well as he thought he did.

As he approached the mountainside clearing he could make out a mass of shadows already beginning to thin out. He snapped his wings in and shot downward, wind whipping his hair behind him. “Azriel!” he bellowed from the sky. The shadows slowed and darkened ever so slightly as Cassian slammed into the ground sending snow spraying around him.

Azriel stood stiffly before him, but he looked empty, drained, as if life had been sucked from him and Cassian could feel his heart crack ever so slightly.

“Going somewhere?” Cassian huffed, all of a sudden furious as Hel with the Shadowsinger before him. Azriel stared at him bleakly “Cassian I-” he began but Cassian quickly interrupted “Was going to leave without so much as a goodbye? Rhys got a note and what do I get? An empty room and cold sheets? What were you going to do Az? Disappear for fifty years? Five hundred? Return when you're old and grey and I’m nothing but ash?” Cassian lashed out, the hurt of being abandoned manifesting as anger. “Don’t say that!” Azriel snarled, his eyes now lit with that familiar burning life. “You could have told me Az! That you were l-” he tripped over the next word “leaving. You could have told me” he swallowed hard, willing his voice not to break “how you felt.” It was Azriel’s turn to fly into a rage, but unlike Cassian's quick fire and brash words, Azriel’s was cold and slicing like steel. “I’ve been trying to tell you! For years Cassian! Decades! You never looked twice at me, not like that.” Azreil’s breaths were coming great heaves now. ��So I wasn’t going to mess everything up. And I don’t need your pity!” His warm breaths became mist in the cold air before him. “Pity?” Cassain's face softened at Azriel’s words. “I loved you for over 500 years Cassian. I watched you take home every fae in Velaris and beyond! And now..” he puffed out a breath he seemed to be holding “I’m done.” Azriel turned in dismissal, his shadows gathering around him again. “Please.” Cassian managed to get out as he dropped to his knees, wings drooping into the snow. Azriel hesitated, glancing over his shoulder and it was all the time Cassian needed to pull out the object he had stuffed in a small bag strapped across his chest and toss it to Azriel. Azriel caught it in a raised palm, taking in Cassian’s defeated form with a sweeping glance before his eyes fell upon the Veritas orb.

Azriel’s own face swam into view and it took only a moment to recognise the scene from hundreds of years ago. When Azriel lay shirtless receiving some of his first Illyrian tattoos. But this memory was from Cassian's perspective, as all the memories currently contained in the orb would be. Azriel's brows knitted together as he watched as Cassian’s eyes caught and lingered on his body stretched out on the table before him. Images started flashing through rapidly then. Wind tussled Azriel's hair as they flew together for the first time, after leaping from the cliff face they now stood on. Cassian’s grip on his shoulder, spinning him as his eyes flicked over him looking for signs of injury when Azriel had returned from a mission. What must have been a hundred moments of Cassian entering a room and his eyes seeking out Azriel first. Azriel laughing prone in the snow after one of their annual snowball fights. Azriel's throat as he downed a glass of whiskey at Rita’s. Azriel’s arms as they fought on the roof of the House of Wind. Azriel's golden eyes. Azriel’s scarred hands. Azriel. Azriel. Azriel.

Silver lined Azriel's eyes as he lifted them to Cassian now standing again. “500 years Az” Cassian barely whispered.

Suddenly Azriel disappeared and then reappeared before crashing into Cassian, their lips meeting in an instant. Cassian fell back into the snow, taking Azriel with him. They let their mouths, their trailing touch and heavy breaths say everything they didn’t dare say in the last centuries. But Cassian needed to say it, he needed to lay all the cards on the table to avoid ever facing a fleeing shadowsinger again. He pushed against Azriel’s chest, already missing his warm lips as Azriel pulled away with a hesitant look. “I love you, Azriel.” Cassian's voice was steady, he’d never been more sure of something in his life. “I’m sorry you had to go to such lengths for me to say it.” A tear slid down Azriel's cheek as he leant down and gently kissed him. Darkness flooded behind Cassian’s lids before the light returned and they were falling. Azriel had winnowed them above the House of Wind and Cassian reluctantly twisted out of Azriel’s grasp so he could glide down to the roof. Azriel had barely touched down when Cassian gripped the front of his Illyrian leathers and slammed him against the closest wall. He lowered his mouth to Azriel’s throat, kissing along that stubbled jaw line that drove him crazy. Azriel groaned, lifting his head to give him better access and Cassian smiled against his skin. They stumbled their way to Azriel’s bedroom, he had claimed the room with the biggest bed after a particularly long hand to hand combat, leaving a trail of clothing behind them. Once they made it through the door Azriel pushed Cassian backward until the back of his knees hit the bed and he sat before him. He didn’t need to utter a word for Cassian to understand the intent behind those dark hazel eyes, that tonight, their first night, Azriel would lay claim to Cassian’s body. Cassian was more than willing to oblige. He reached for the band of Azriel’s underwear and finally released the hard length trapped within. He found himself only the tiniest bit disappointed that Azriel’s rumoured “wingspan” was in fact longer than his own but swallowed hard as he thought about it filling him.

He leant forward and tasted the smooth skin, running his tongue under the length of him. Azriel’s hand tangled into Cassian’s hair at the back of his head and gripped tightly. He guided Cassian’s mouth down onto him and groaned as Cassian hollowed out his cheeks. “The number of times I came thinking about you just like this Cass, you take me so good baby.” Azriel’s voice was fried from bliss and Cassian hummed at the encouragement, sending vibrations straight through Azriel’s body. Cassian slid down further, feeling Azriel pushing down his throat, his nose brushing against Azriel’s stomach. Cassian began swallowing and Azriel pulled back with a hiss, leaving his mouth with a small pop. “Lay back, I want to see you.” Azriel commanded and Cassian ever the loyal soldier fell back and slid up the bed. Azriel gripped the sides of his underwear and removed them in one swift motion. Cassian felt himself flush as Azriel’s eyes raked over his body. He couldn’t remember the last time he squirmed under someone's eye in bed. He was usually the cocky Illyrian warrior between the sheets but with Azriel’s deep-cut muscles and considerable length hovering above him, he’d finally found his match.

“You’re beautiful.” Azriel murmured mostly to himself and Cassian thought his heart might swell out of his chest. “Only second to you” Cassian winked at him, finding his usual confidence again. Azriel rolled his eyes but even in the darkness of the room Cassian was sure the Shadowsingers cheeks flushed with red.

As if in retaliation for knocking him off step, Azriel moved between Cassian’s legs guiding his knees apart and abruptly pushed a finger into him without warning. Cassian arched backwards and gasped at the sudden intrusion. Azriel’s long practiced strokes pulled moans from Cassian’s lips, his brow scrunched in pleasure. He slid his other hand up Cassian's muscular thigh and wrapped it tightly around his member. Tightly gliding up and down matching pace with the hand pushing in beneath him. As Azriel pushed a second finger in next to the first, Cassian realised they were smooth gliding strokes. His eyes fell upon the bottle of lubrication next to his leg, Azriel’s shadows had delivered it right to him while Cassian was distracted. Azriel’s shadows were pooled underneath him, swirling and tumbling as Azriel continued his assault on Cassian. Azriel seemed to be keeping those shadows at bay as he purposely flitted over that one spot inside Cassian, sharply pulling his focus back towards him. But Cassian was determined to take everything Azriel had to give him, so he reached out to feel the cool caress of the shadows creeping up the bed next to him. Azriel read his movements, groaned and finally released his hold on them. Dark swirling shadows flooded Cassian’s chest, lightly tickling every sensitive area, gliding over a nipple and curling around an ear, exploring every inch of skin. Despite their cool touch Cassian felt like he was on fire. He’d never been brought to the edge like this, with every nerve pulled tight. He quickly jolted up, gripping Azriel’s wrist beneath him and guiding his hand away. Cassian kissed him then, sliding his tongue across Azriel’s bottom lip. He slipped a hand around his neck and pulled the Shadowsinger down on top of him. He curled his legs up around Azriel’s waist, angling his hips, leaving just enough space between them for Azriel to line himself up. And with one strong thrust Azriel buried himself in Cassian. Their pace was rushed and needy, desperate to make up for lost years of pleasure. Cassian let his hands explore Azriel’s body, first brushing up his arms then along his chest, as if he could read the stories the scars left on pale skin. Then he moved on to Azriel’s wings. He hadn’t laid with many Illyrians, none that meant enough that allowed for their wings to be touched, but Cassian knew every sensitive spot thanks to his own. He focused his soft strokes there until Azriel was vibrating above him, moaning incoherently. Azriel reached down between them and took Cassian into his hand again. “Please.” was all Cassian had to whisper for Azriel’s eyes to become fully blown out, completely lost to Cassian's body. A few more strokes had them both exploding, Cassian gripping Azriel’s shoulders, Azriel pulling the last long strokes down Cassian’s length. They laid together for a few hours, exploring each other, trading lingering kisses, until Cassian told Azriel he would die of dehydration if he didn’t get some water. Azriel reluctantly let him go and as Cassian stepped into the kitchen past their fallen clothes, he noticed a slip of paper on the table next to the Veritas orb Azriel had deposited there.

He recognised Rhysand’s elegant script as he read, He’s back?Cassian quickly located a pen and scribbled his response. Yeah, he’s back.

He put the pen down and watched as the note and the Vertis orb silently disappeared. Cassian rubbed at his chest as he collected his water and a glass for Azriel. Yeah he was back and Cassian wasn’t letting him go anytime soon.

[scribblesandink]

Prompt:

When a person enters the afterlife they must ask the Grim Reaper one question with a legitimate answer, whether they answer correctly or not determines whether you go to Heaven or Hell. Scholars and scientists have tried to outsmart them but failed, however your question has them panicking

@writing-prompt-s __________________________________

From the moment my car skidded on the icy bridge, I knew it was over. My mind went numb and all I could do was watch. The window to my left shattered, causing shards of glass to fall into my lap and imbed themselves deep into my skin. I felt warm blood run down my face. Metal screeched as a truck hit the side of my car, forcing mine to flip and roll. The guard rail buckled under the weight and freezing cold water rushed in as my world welt dark. My heartbeat pounded in my ears, gradually slowing as I became weightless.

I opened my eyes once more, now standing on the bank of the river as trucks with flashing lights slowly pulled my car from the murky water. A few yards to my right, my body was quietly zipped into a bag

"Time of death 4:21 am"

I felt the gentle breeze of someone walking closer and saw a black hooded figure stop beside me, arms quietly folded in front of him

"Beautiful night" I said quietly

"Indeed, it is"

We stood in silence for a while longer, watching the nearly full moon cast a clear trail on the water. The paramedics left before the sun rose while the others finished fishing my car out of the water. The Grim Reaper touched my arm with surprising gentleness. I looked up

"Before your fate is decided, there is one thing you must do"

I nodded and we began slowly walking through the woods. The snow beneath my feet felt like nothing as my weightless body refused to press it down. I almost laughed at the thought of disembodied spirits not weighing much

"Your fate is not determined by your actions in this life, nor how much wealth you accumulated. Instead, you determine your own fate by the question you must ask me"

"What question?"

"That, my child, is up to you"

"So.... I can ask you anything? And you will have to answer? "

He nodded and I looked away. The recent rain before dusk had caused the water to flash freeze on everything it touched, including the bridge that had brought me into the river, but here in the forest the plants were covered in a pale sheen. I reached out and felt the ice melting on my fingertips, the cool water collecting at the very tip until they fell, creating a single spot in the perfect white blanket carpeting the forest floor

I looked back up in confusion "Why do my fingers affect the ice, but my feet don't?"

His body, hidden in his dark cloak, went still "What?"

"The ice. When I walk, the snow stays the same, neither of us have left tracks. But when I touched the ice here it melted from my hands. Why is it different?"

He turned to look where we had just been before looking back at me "I..... I do not know. Those are just the ways of death, my child. No one knows"

I looked back at the frozen branch "I'm sorry, I should be figuring out my question"

"Was that not what you chose to ask?"

"No..... I suppose my question is was my life worth living at all? I did very little, I was nothing more or less than average. I was nothing at all, and I cannot help but wonder if my life had any impact on the lives of others? Others who were meant to do something in this world"

His skeletal hand graced my cheek but I did not flinch, his touch surprisingly warm

"Every life is worth living, every soul has a place in this world. Just because you did not stand out in your own mind, does not mean the lives of others were not entirely changed because of your place in them. You see the beauty in this life that has wronged you so badly, and even in death your mind wanders to the mysteries of natural beauty. Where so many before you thought of only themselves, of their fate, you were content to appreciate what can never be understood or changed"

He offered his hand to me and I took it. His fingers squeezed mine and we walked into the path of the moon, my world erupting in a gentle glow. For the first time in my life, I was home.

[phr3ia]

Fragmented Glass (Satoru Gojo x Fem!Reader) [Chapter 16 : Best Choice]

The next morning, you woke up to the sound of birds chirping outside your window, and for a moment, you forgot where you were. As reality hit, you sat up in bed, frantically checking the time. An important meeting with the Elders was scheduled for this morning, and you realized you'd overslept.

Panic set in as you scrambled off the bed, your heart racing. You didn't have time to change clothes, shower, or fix your hair. Grabbing your tablet, you rushed towards the meeting room in your pajamas.

Upon entering the private hall, you could feel the eyes of the Elders on you. You halted, taking a deep breath, and straightened your back. "My apologies for being late. An unexpected matter arose, and I had to tend to it."

"You're disheveled, Y/N. Don't let this happen again." The oldest among the Elders scolded, his tone sharp.

"Yes, Elder." You replied, bowing slightly.

You gathered your composure, and began to present the agenda. Your knowledge and command of the subject matter were unmatched. The Elders listened attentively, nodding their heads in approval as you skillfully navigated through the complexities of the clan's affairs.

By the time the meeting ended, you had earned the respect and admiration of the Elders. Ryoma, who had been observing you from the corner of the room, couldn't help but smirk in approval.

As the Elders left the room, Ryoma approached you. "Not a bad performance, considering the circumstances."

"Is that a compliment?" You asked, brushing off his comment.

But before he could respond, Enji appeared beside you, grinning. "Well done, Onee-chan. You handled that quite well, given that you overslept."

You shot him a glance, wondering how he found out. "Thank you, Enji."

Ryoma gave Enji a dismissive look, turning to leave. "Don't let it go to your head, Y/N."

Enji chuckled, squeezing your shoulder reassuringly. "Don't mind him. You've made us proud today."

You honestly didn't care about Ryoma's comment. And you knew Enji's comfort was far worse than a venom.

You were about to get back to your bedroom when Enji suddenly grabbed your arm and pulled you towards the garden. "Come, Sister. Let's sit down in the garden for a bit. I want to talk to you about something." You sigh, allowing him to lead you outside. The garden was peaceful, with a calming fountain in the center. Enji led you to a bench under a large tree, its branches offering shade from the sun.

Once seated, Enji cleared his throat, looking at you with a cheeky grin. "How's the bedroom experience with Satoru? How does he perform? You know, I'm curious, as a brother and all."

You shot him a disbelieving look, "Enough, Enji. I'm not here to entertain your perverted curiosity. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have other things to do."

You stood up, ready to leave, but Enji grabbed your hand, stopping you. "Fine, but please, keep me informed. I want to know everything, especially if there's any news regarding an heir."

You pulled your hand away, glaring at him. "You'll be the first to know, Enji, once there's something to report."

Enji released a laugh, seemingly satisfied with your response. "Yey! Good. Thank you, Sister!"

Just as he was about to speak further, your phone rang, the screen displaying Satoru's name. You instantly smiled, and your expression lighting up.

Enji noticed the sudden shift in your demeanor and couldn't help but wonder if you were beginning to develop feelings for Satoru. He filed away the thought, choosing to feign ignorance.

"Allow me." Enji said, snatching your phone from your hand. He put it in front of his face, and greeted Satoru with a fake beaming smile.

(Video Call...)

"Satoru-san! My name is Enji, Y/N's younger brother. It's nice to finally meet you!"

Satoru's expression froze for a moment, taken aback by the sudden appearance of Enji. But he quickly regained composure, flashing a charming smile. "Enji-kun, a pleasure to meet you. Hopefully, I'll have the honor of meeting you in person soon."

Enji's face lit up with excitement. "Oh, we'd love to have you here! In fact, why don't you come over during the annual clan gathering? It's a great opportunity to network and expand your influence."

Satoru raised an eyebrow, his tone cautious. "I see. Perhaps I'll consider it. And by the way, congratulations for managing to snag such a beautiful sister."

Enji chuckled, playing along despite his true intentions. "Why thank you. She's quite the catch, isn't she?"

Satoru's gaze shifted to Enji's side, where you stood, watching the exchange. He winked at you, a silent message of reassurance.

As the call continued, Enji began to bombard Satoru with questions, from the details of your wedding night to the strength of his techniques. Satoru humored him, answering his questions with a mix of humor and caution. Whenever Enji's questions veered towards sensitive topics, Satoru smoothly redirected them.

Enji, sensing Satoru's evasiveness, grew more persistent. "Don't worry, Satoru. I'm just curious about my Sister's life. I want to make sure she's well taken care of."

Satoru's eyes narrowed, the playful demeanor slipping for a moment, replaced by a cold, calculated stare. "Believe me, Enji, I'm keeping her well-occupied, and she's thriving. If anything, I'm her biggest supporter."

Satoru paused, his gaze flickering towards you, silently communicating his message.

"And if something were to happen to her, I'm afraid, Enji, I would spare no one. Not even her own family."

Satoru's words hung in the air, his tone dripping with menace. Enji's smile faltered, unease creeping into his features, as he realized the extent of Satoru's protectiveness.

After that, Enji's smile returned, but this time, it looked forced. "I wouldn't dream of harming her, Satoru-san. We're family, after all. But remember, the clan comes first. And I expect her to prioritize them."

Satoru chuckled, his smile never faltering either. "Well, let's hope that the interests of your clan and my wife don't conflict. Because, Enji, I'm not just a husband. I'm also the Strongest Sorcerer. Be careful."

Enji's grin widened, baring his teeth. "Oh, I'm sure we'll find common ground, Satoru-san. After all, we both want the best for my sister."

Before your husband could retort, you stepped forward, snatching your phone back. "Satoru!" you exclaimed, smiling lovingly at him.

Satoru's eyes lit up, his voice filled with excitement. "My wife! There you are! I've been thinking about you all morning. How are you? Have you had breakfast? You must eat well, no skipping meals."

You chuckled. It always brought you joy whenever you see Satoru being so affectionate towards you. "I'm well, thanks for your concern. I had a meeting earlier, which is now over. I'll eat soon."

Enji scoffed, shooting you a disapproving glare while Satoru's enthusiasm was on full display.

Satoru's eyes sparkled with mischief, as he narrated the story of how he spent the morning eating pancakes, and how he'd dreamt of you last night. "I dreamt that we were swimming in a pool filled with cola, and you were wearing an adorable floatie, and..."

You couldn't help but giggle, cutting him off, "Satoru, did you forget that we're not alone? My brother is right here."

Satoru paused for a moment, realizing his indiscretion. "Oh, Enji, sorry for my lack of etiquette."

Enji rolled his eyes, clearly uninterested in the mushy talk. "Carry on. I'll be leaving you two lovebirds alone." Enji said as he walked away, leaving you and Satoru alone in your little digital bubble.

Satoru smiled mischievously. "Well, now that he's gone, I can tell you the rest of the dream in detail."

You blushed, playfully swatting at the phone screen. "Satoru, you're unbelievable. But I'm glad you had such lovely dreams about me."

He winked, his smile infectious. "Of course, I'm always dreaming of you. How about you, any exciting dreams?"

You hesitated for a moment, considering whether to share your recent dreams involving your husband. "I'm usually too tired to dream, but I did wake up thinking of you this morning."

Satoru's eyes sparkled with desire. "Oh, really? Did you miss me?"

You chuckled, feeling the warmth in your cheeks. "All the time, but only because I wanted to squeeze you tightly to wake you up."

He let out a hearty laugh. Satoru's voice was rich and deep. "I'll let you do that next time when you get back home. Just promise to wake me up with a passionate kiss."

"I'll try not to disappoint."

Satoru's expression turned serious as he spoke. "Listen, I have to leave soon. I have some urgent matters to attend to, but I'll be back tonight."

You frowned, disappointment evident in your voice as you still wanted to talk to your husband "Alright, be safe. I'll miss you."

"I'll miss you too. But remember, I'll ravage you once you're back. So, stay ready for me."

"Count on it." you replied, grinning at him.

"I love you!" he said as he gestured a kiss through the camera.

"I love you too!" With a final kiss blown through the screen, the call ended.

(End of Call...)

As you walked back to your room, humming softly to yourself, you suddenly bumped into someone at the hallway. You felt a jolt as you collided with that person, stumbling back a step. "Sorry, I didn't see you there." you apologized, looking up to see the stern expression of Naoya Zenin.

Clad in black clothes, Naoya stared at you coldly. "Are you always this clumsy?"

"Oh, it's you." you nonchalantly said, staring at him. "What are you doing here?" you asked, curious to know why a Zenin is inside your family's estate.

Naoya's expression didn't soften, but he decided to answer your question in a controlled manner.

"I'm here waiting for Ryuji. He owes me a favor, so I'm just biding my time."

You rolled your eyes, smirking at his discomfort. "My eldest brother is not here, but feel free to wait as long as you need. Maybe he'll show up before you starve."

Naoya's eyes narrowed, his disdain for you still lingering beneath the surface. "I'm not here to discuss my business with you. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll be waiting."

Naoya brushed past you, returning to the sitting area in the estate's main hall. You watched him leave, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. You knew Naoya hated you with a burning passion, so his reluctance to interact with you was amusing. You shrugged it off, heading back to your room like nothing happened.

As you settled back into your bed, you let out a sigh of relief. The thought of ending up with Naoya sent shivers down your spine. Although he came from a prestigious clan, being with him would have been a living nightmare.

The arranged marriage between you and Naoya fell apart when your family discovered the potential of your cursed techniques. It was then that they decided that Satoru is the best choice for you, and the rest was history.

Thinking about it, it was a blessing in disguise. You'd never have met Satoru if it weren't for the fallout. He had brought joy, passion, and laughter into your life, unlike Naoya, whose face was a constant scowl. Satoru was everything Naoya wasn't, and you cherished that.

•┈••✦ ❤ ✦••┈•

End of Chapter 16 🥀...

@kalopsia-flaneur @thatmartinkitten @staruus @miizuzu @haikomaiko

[saintsofwarding]

BURIAL

Epilogue

"Hello, Karl."

"Hey, Donna. A corpse! Is that a present for me?"

"No. She is not a corpse." A pause. "Is that a piece of my front gate embedded in your skull?"

"...Or am I just happy to-"

"Don't be disgusting."

"Heh." He yanked it loose with a wet crackle and tossed the bloody chunk of wrought iron into the snow. "So why are you hauling her around, then, huh? Can't be for the sentiment."

"You're much better at matters of the flesh than I am."

"Oh, I see. So you want me to put her back together, not saw her apart?" He snorted. "Waste of a good body is all I'm saying."

"Can you help me or not?"

"Guess it was you, then?"

"Me?" Donna asked, all innocence.

"Mommy Dearest went up the mountain but she never came down." A long pause. His glasses shone in the first of the dawn light. "Did you do it?"

"Yes."

Heisenberg smiled. There was none of his former gleeful malice in it, no bared teeth or mania edging madness.

"Huh," he said.

He seemed, for a heartbeat, to waver, as if unmoored, as if overcome. Perhaps to compensate, to do something, anything, with his hands, he reached up and hooked his finger over the arm of his spectacles, tugging them down from his face.

Donna lifted her brow. His face. Strange; she'd never taken him in, not really. He was covered in scars, a cross-hatch of them over cheekbones and forehead, glistening white through his beard-scruff, one nearly slicing his face in half. Had she ever seen his eyes before? She didn't remember. They were deeply shadowed, bruised, sockets nicked with scar tissue. And they were pale blue-gray, nearly colorless, clear as water when the light hit them.

"So many goddamn years," he muttered. "Feels strange. Too quiet."

"Yes. I know."

He wouldn't thank her. She didn't know if he was capable of such things. But he looked down at Elena lying still and cold on the rug Donna had used to drag her body from the house. The candlelight from Claudia's grave flickered over her face, her parted lips, her closed eyes. Her hand was curled around the remnants of the yellow flower that had saved them both.

"It's not worth it, you know," Heisenberg told Donna.

"What?"

"Giving yourself over. Surrendering yourself to what you can't control. It'll make you weak. And that'll be what destroys you, in the end."

Donna gave him a look. "Bold words for a man who let himself be thrown off a cliff."

He jabbed a finger at her, dangerously close to her nose. "Mention that ever again and I'll crush your fuckin' skull."

"Are you going to help me or not? She's dying."

"Yeah, yeah..."

"Karl."

"What?"

She set her hand, lightly, on his arm. "Thank you."

He didn't pull away. "...Whatever."

***

Breeze, dawn sky.

The rustle of leaves.

The distant sound of birdsong.

She thought for a moment her eyes were closed, and she was seeing the veins in her eyelids. As her vision focused, she realized they were not veins, but branches.

She lay on the ground, on a nest of blankets and rugs and throw pillows from the house, dusty green velvet incongruous amidst the snowdrifts and fallen branches. And graves. She was in the garden, deep amidst the hedges, and gravestones rose from the snow, candlelight playing over the rime of frost that covered them.

Her mouth tasted of bitter herbs and medicines. Her whole body ached, but it was a good pain, a healing ache, and when she lifted her hands to the light she saw even her palm had been bandaged. She moved her fingers through the light. It felt real.

This felt real.

"You're awake."

Elena looked up. Donna knelt at a nearby grave, a candle cupped in her palms. She'd draped her mother's green velvet dressing-gown over her shoulders, and the earth at her knees was fresh-dug, loamy and dark as the night.

A recent burial. For whom? Elena licked her lips. "Well. I couldn't leave you like that."

"I'm grateful. Do you feel all right?"

"...Compared to what?"

Donna laughed softly. The sound was hoarse, lovely. Elena pushed herself to her knees. The wind stirred her loose hair. Someone had combed it out, had cleaned it, had sponged the blood from her face and hands. It all felt so clean. The air, the wind in her lungs, her mind. Like a great weight had been lifted from it.

"I do," she said. "I feel...lighter."

"He helped," Donna said, nodding toward the treeline. Elena followed her gaze. Heisenberg's familiar broad silhouette stood there, smoke twining from his cigar.

Elena paused. She lifted a hand. A careful, neutral wave.

He didn't approach. He just reached up to touch the brim of his hat, then turned on one heel and sauntered away, soon lost in the mist.

"He made sure your head was all right," Donna went on. "I do hope he didn't dig around too much while he was back there."

"I'll live." She rose, carefully. Her body creaked and protested; she felt ninety years old, full of aches and shooting pains, but she managed the few steps to Donna and settled by her side. "Who are you burying?"

"Violeta, and Angie. They deserve a grave."

Elena swallowed, remembering Angie's scream of anguish. "What you did...I don't know what to say, how to thank you, but-"

"No." Donna put her hand on Elena's knee. "No mourning. It was time. Now it's my turn to be alive."

She set the candle by the gravestone, and together they watched it flicker and dance in the breeze.

"Donna," Elena began. "I...um."

"Yes?"

"I should have said why I was there, back at the beginning. When you first saved my life. I should have told you everything. Maybe then, I could...I don't know, have saved my father. He was the reason for all this. Miranda offered this assignment in exchange for sparing his life."

"Your father?"

Elena nodded. She swiped tears from her eyes. "Now he's gone, and it's all on me. Saints- I'm sorry, I don't mean to..."

"Go ahead and cry. It's all right."

"No. No, it's not."

"What happened to him?"

"She took his memories. Did something to him...inside, I don't know. I don't know."

Donna seemed to consider this for a while.

"Well," she said, "perhaps I could help."

"...What?"

"I am good with matters of the mind. And with Miranda...missing, perhaps her influence might wane. Who knows."

She paused.

"We can all begin to dream again," she said.

Elena tipped her head back. Light had begun to spill into the sky, and it was clear as glass, all watercolor blooms and opalescence, clouds clearing from what would surely be a perfect winter morning.

"What will happen to all of them, down in the village?" she said. "Without her? We've been Miranda's for so long, I'm not sure any of us know how to survive without her."

"I do not know. I suppose...we'll all have to find our own way."

Elena nodded.

"Well," she said, "I know where mine begins."

"...Oh?"

She brushed a strand of Donna's hair, tenderly, behind her ear. "Don't play smart, Beneviento. With you."

"Hush," Donna murmured, smiling as she lifted her hands and pulled Elena's face to her own. "Quiet, now."

"My lady," Elena whispered, and captured her smile with her lips.

***

(Are you happy, out there?)

(Never mind. Don't answer. Let me tell you a story)

(You told me so many of your stories)

Once upon a time, as never before- because if there wasn't, we wouldn't have to say it- there was a mountain valley hidden from the world. The rivers and the wind spoke of crystal cities, and sleeping gods, and saints with wolves' heads, and conquesting heroes from a glittering past. Blood queens, and fish kings, and great sorcerers who sing to metal, and who can heal the dying, too, despite all evidence to the contrary...

(You held me like a sleeping child. My white limbs reassembled, broken and mangled. My gift all crystal in my skull. You gathered my pieces from the deep belly of the house and you took me through the forest, a procession like you once had performed for little lost Claudia. A funeral for a doll. And you buried me in the dark earth and at last there was silence)

...And of warding-saints, carved in stone, guardians of the valley borders for so many centuries, watching all who entered and left these lands. So many had not left for so long. But they were patient, and were content to wait, deep in the Black God's dreams.

A long time this valley had slept. A long time, trapped in amber. A long cold wait for the saints, a long time spent in only the company of their god. But they smelled the bonfires, at last, the smoke rising from the village at the valley's heart to fill the morning sky with the scent of ending.

Of beginning?

Perhaps they're one and the same. A moon sets, and a sun rises. Should you know the rest? Perhaps, perhaps. Though I think you already know the whole story.

(I hope you are happy)

(I miss you)

(But I see now it always had to be this way)

(Nothing lasts forever. Not even us)

(And in the end, you found a way to live, and I can't help but be glad of that. That was all I wanted, really, when it comes down to the meat of the matter.

Besides. I can't be angry. You're a part of me, little mouse, like I was a part of you.

So go on.

Live.

For the two of us)

[vibratingskull]

A night with you

Part1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9

Tag list

ThrawnxF!reader

You’re at the Opera with your suitor when you receive a text from a certain someone later that night...

You hide your mouth behind your hand, letting a single tear stream down your cheek. A silent sob gets caught in your throat and shakes your shoulders.

He takes your hand and intertwines your fingers, squeezing it reassuringly. He turns his gaze on you and flashes you a smile. You smile back, sniffing your sobs away, you nod your head to reassure him.

“Everything alright?” He asks in a tone of confidence.

“Yes! Yes, it's just… It’s beautiful.” You manage to say without your voice cracking completely.

“I knew you would love it.”

You gaze back on the stage where the Opera singers finish their song. It is the last one. It is about the region where your planet is from, about the war, about its conquest by the aliens, a story about courage and treachery, a tragedy. You wipe your tears away and rise from your seat to clap like the rest of the audience. You clap with all your might and shout hourrays and praises. You’re moved beyond tears, you felt it down your bowels. You made a good call to come see this opera with him. He puts your fur coat on your shoulders, squeezing them gently.

“There is supposed to be a soirée after, but I want to steal you away from them.” He chants.

You feel your cheeks heating up, you nod once again and take his gloved hand to exit the Galaxies Opera House. The fresh air hits you and you shiver in your furs, you thank him once again for gifting you such a pricey item, that and the dress and the jewelry…

“Do not worry about it.” He kisses your knuckles. “You wore it perfectly, I could swear it was tailored for you.” Wrapped up in his own black fur he delicately guides you away from the crowd of other rich people to his limousine. "Come. There is a place I want to show you.”

___________________________________

“Don’t walk so fast! I can’t keep up with my heels!” You protest.

“Sorry! I’m just so excited to show you!” He laughs without letting your hand go.

You walk with difficulty between the branches and the thorns, you already find it surprising to find a forest on Coruscant. You knew some parks, but a forest? Never heard of.

You finally arrive and he gestures to you proudly. You are in awe, before you is a clearing of wild flowers with a wonderful lake where the moon reflects its light in delicious reflections. In the middle of the opened nocturnal flowers is a tablecloth with a basket and a candelabra. You can’t contain your laughter.

“You really planned all this?” You ask incredulously.

“Well, you told me you were feeling down lately and I thought it would be a great change of atmosphere after an evening with all those stuck up people.” He says. “I wanted to make a nice gesture.” He approaches you with his beautiful smile, his bun a little unmade.

“Thank you, Governor Satlove.”

“What did I told you before, (y/n)?” He chides you lightly, grazing his finger against your lips “Call me Nather.”

“Alright…” You look down at your feet, suddenly shy, before meeting back his eyes. “Nather.” Your voice got low, like a secret.

He nods approvingly, holding your face in both of his hands, eyes in eyes, he kisses your forehead. He guides you to the basket and takes out two glasses and a bottle of Calamnsi. You both sat down in front of this gorgeous moon.

“Tell me rather, how’s everything going?”

You sigh.

“Oh, it could be better…” You clink your glasses and take a sip. “I’m drowning with work and the little time I have for me I dedicate it to you.” You confess.

He raises his glass.

“And I am honored.”

You smile, playing with the trim of your dress.

“It’s been a while since I got to see my different friends and my family, and I think it started to down on me.” You sigh."That, and these pirates we can't get our grips on…Are you sure none of the ships coming from and around your planet were never attacked ?" You inquire

He takes a sip, fixated on your eyes.

"I've never heard of it in any reports, nor have we received any call for help by any helpless ship." He responds.

You lower your head, a bit discouraged. You'd hoped he would have more information on his hand. It's been years now that this group of pirates is wandering the universe freely and the Captain Marttilf is really displeased by it. The only constant you picked on is that they will appear near Nather's planet, Tirahnn, at random and unpredictable times and disappear just as quickly. For you they are clearly doing business with the local underworld and you wanna know what deals it is about.

"We've augmented the patrol on our own, but we can't do much more for the time being, I'm afraid…" He takes your hand with "sorry" spelled in his eyes. “Tell me if I can do anything else to help you. I only need to pass a phone call…”

You shake your head, you’re grateful for his eagerness to help but you can’t really do anything for now. It is useless to place a ship in ambush for a target that might come in several months or a year.

"We will get them." You look in his gray eyes with resolution. "In one way or another… We will get them."

He looks at you in silence, like he is in his thoughts, but raises his glass once again.

"Then we will drink to your success! And your long awaited promotion." You smile at the prospect. You figure Marttilf would get most of the glory, but the idea is nice. "I can do something about that, you know? I can pull the right strings to speed up the process, no problem."

"No!" Your sudden firm tone surprises him and he gets back a little. You smile and sweeten your voice. "No. If I have to advance in this career, I want to advance by merits alone."

He shake his head.

"You're an idealist, (y/n). You cannot advance by merits alone. It is the slowest and least effective way."

You know he’s right, but you don’t want to admit it, not yet at least. You’ve raised one rank and are now a junior lieutenant, so really low in the chain of command and you know your next promotion will come in years. You will need patience and abnegation.

"I know, but I would rather prevent politics from intervening in my career as much as possible."

"Politics already mingles in your career, whether you like it or not. You should take full advantage of any ressources you have, as soon as possible." He puts his head on his fist, laying lazily on his side.

"So you are a resource now?" You ask laughingly.

"I can be so much more." He says, eyes fixed on your lips, caressing your hand with the tip of his fingers.

"What can you be, then?" You bend over, getting closer.

"Anything you might desire…"

You're close, you feel his breath on your parted lips and his heat emanating from his body. You shiver in anticipation. His eyes travel between your lips and your eyes. His hand comes caressing your cheek, sliding lightly to your chin to bring you closer.

The kiss is tender, slow. It sends shivers down your spine. It’s the first one. You savor it, like a rare delicacy with your eyes closed. Your hand gets in his bun, that you undo to let his long hair fall free and hold the back of his head, his hand slides back on your cheek, his thumb caressing it with gentleness.

You part with regrets, forehead against forehead. You're breathless and panting, your shoulders raise as you breathe air.

"Was it really reasonable ?" You ask with swollen lips, under your breath.

He laughs a cristalyne laugh with gleaming eyes.

"Is anything fun ever reasonable?"

You sigh, putting your head on his shoulder.

"Maybe you're right…"

His hand comes grazing your temples. Away, a firework is lit. You observe the colorful wonders in silence, well wrapped in your furs between the fluorescent open flowers. Your mind is racing but calm and organized at the same time. You bury your head in his neck, enveloping yourself in his scent, you sigh, content.

___________________________________________________________

You climb up the stairs to your apartment with your heels in your hand. Nather drived you back, his limousine really out of place in this rather modest neighborhood, you would have come back in a cab but you didn’t feel like leaving him yet, so you hugged on the bench seat on your way back. The cold cement against the plant of your feet keeps you awake.

Finally you reach your floor, your door slides and you're home. You lean against the door, touching your lips, remembering the feeling of his mouth against yours. You smile to yourself, moistening your lips. Your face heats up with the memory of this moment.

You walk toward your room with an idiotic smile, putting down the fur coat delicately in your closet, putting your pajamas on and removing the different pieces of jewelry. You slump on your bed with a satisfied sigh, you take your comlink to check your messages, you got several: some of your family members asking you to finally come see them, some of your friends proposing you a drink after all this time. You check your agenda and your orders and answer them no with a pinch of the heart. Captain Marttilf is demanding you to shorten your leave to come back at soon as possible on the Zéphyr. You pout. You had little time to yourself and now you had even less. You scroll down the rest of the messages until you come across a name you haven't seen in years. Thrawn.

You stare his name in silence for a minute, unsure of what to do. You click on it to see the message with a beating heart..

"Good day junior lieutenant (y/l/n), I require your services."

Good day? Good day?! After 3 years, that's how he greets a friend? Granted, you didn’t have much contact during these 3 years but your friendship didn’t wither that much, right? Your finger holds its place over the screen as you think about those shared moments that keep getting more and more rare until they disappeared completely, to those messages that keep getting more sparse… Maybe what you had wasn’t as strong as you first thought.

You hold your comm unit and stare at it for a while, not knowing how to carry the conversation, you start taping a friendly reprimand, a frustrated opener, the joyful salutations. You erase them all, opting for a more cordial and professional tone.

“Good day to you too, Lieutenant Thrawn. How may I assist you?”

You reread your message several times and send it. You put your comlink on your heart, eyes fixed on the ceiling. You realize your fling didn’t disappear over time like you hoped. Just having his name resonate inside your head sent your heart racing. You gulp in discomfort, you now doubt to be able to get over it. His face draws itself under your eyes on your ceiling, floating in the dark with the memory of his voice coming back like an old melody. You close your eyes to chase it from your mind but his image persists behind your lids.

A buzz sound pulls you off your thoughts. He responded despite the late hour.

“I must inform you I am no longer a lieutenant, I recently ascended to the rank of captain. I need to use your connection to the underworld.”

You blink.

He’s captain? Already? But it takes a decade to be promoted to this rank! You whistle, whatever he’s chasing, he has his eyes on the prize. You who felt proud about your promotion will seriously need to review your objectives upwards. You’re getting outrun, and by far.

Now to the less pleasant part of the discussion, he wants you to get in contact with the underworld? But your parents cut ties with that part of your family years ago and you’re not sure you want to get back to that. You barely know them anyway.

“My congratulations. It will depend on my abilities, why do you need to enter the crime world?”

You don’t have to wait long for the answer.

“Thank you. I need intel on the black metals market and information around a name I suspect to be highly influential in the milieu.”

What is he on about? Does he dream of himself as a blacksmith?

“Find everything you can about an individual that names himself Nightsawn. Union, lobby, mafia, search every environment susceptible to birth protest and rebellion. You must also find details around the mining guild.”

You stare at the screen, concerned. It’s a true investigation he asks of you. You can’t possibly just pop up at the door of your former family with a smile and such a mission… On the other hand, getting closer to your family and their network could help you with your situation with those pirates…

It could work. You will just need to be convincing.

Really convincing.

“I will see what I can do. I will keep you informed.”

“Thank you.”

You scroll back and reread the conversation. The tone is cordial and professional but desperately impersonal and cold. You sigh discouraged, it’s your first contact after several years and it didn’t go as well as all your planned scenarios. You didn’t expect hugging and kissing but still something warmer than this arid conversation.

You stare in the void, screen in front of your face, burning your eyes. It vibrates once again in your hand.

It’s Nather.

“Good evening my pearl. Prepare a proper suit, I will bring you to a nice place next time. In hope it cures you from your loneliness.”

Strangely, you only feel a black void at this news.

It should brighten your mood and bring a smile to your lips, but at this moment you can’t be helped. It only sharpens the dark needles in your heart.

You go to your contact and modify Thrawn’s profile to a more professional and stern “Captain Thrawn”.

That’s all you’re gonna be able to call him from now on, anyway.

You put down your comlink and bury yourself under the cover with your eyes shut close.

@bluechiss, @al-astakbar

[chantsdemarins]

🥵"Find Tom" (Part 1)

(Tom Hiddleston X Reader)

Well, I wasn't going to write another Tom fic, but I am weak. This one is honorary for the 14 Days of Valentine's Day Community project from @muddyorbsblr

It’s suggestive in Part 1, things heat up in Part 2

Maybe interested:

@lovelysizzlingbluebird @lokisgoodgirl (I risk tagging you I know lol 😂) @tbhiddlestan83 @peaches1958 @mygfloki @huntress-artemiss @coldnique @simplyholl @mochie85 @fictive-sl0th @goblingirlsarah @carlym @mjsthrillernp @i-stand-with-loki @filthyhiddles @wolfsmom1 @fantasyfan4life @jennyggggrrr @runningawaywithloki @lady-rose-moon @icytrickster17

(New art too!)

Sea Ranch, CA Sometime after the era fondly referred to as "Peak Tom"

The path back to his weekend rental was winding, to say the least.

Coastal sage and nubby coyote bush snagged the transparent black nylons you put on at the last minute when your winter skin looked a little too ashy for an evening event at Sea Ranch amongst the Bay Area’s artsy crowd. Your hand glided down to touch the plants along the escarpment, pulling a sprig off one of the branches with a gentle tug. Holding it to your nose and inhaling the scent, mixed with the salt misting up from the ocean below, it feels like velvet air coursing through your lungs.

You are climbing now, and you imagine by the time you get to the top of the cliff, your breath will be dangerously close to being lost. You were correct.

The view that opens before you, even in the moonless night, is more incredible than anything you could remember seeing of late. He’s way off in front of you, nervously plodding-perhaps to get inside the thick redwood doors and clean up quickly before welcoming you in. You can barely see the outline of his suit, his shoulder blades, noble triangles against the lithe of his tall frame.

He’s left a light on inside, as he nervously opens the door the light hits his face. It’s a relief to see him after what felt like 30 minutes trekking through the California coastline in borrowed Prada flats. From your side of the window, he’s impossibly handsome, untouchable. The window feels like a metaphor.

How you managed to get an interview with him at this hour, after an overly festive San Francisco film festival party, was a mystery, but he agreed when you took the chance. You’d been eyeing him all night, the last person you expected to be there, and the most interesting.

Only hours before, you’d quietly moved to the deck of the main Sea Ranch house, holding your cell phone to the pristine glittery night sky, searching for a signal to rejuvenate your bad cell service. You Googled “Tom Hiddleston” just to be sure it wasn’t Michael Fassbender.

Then when you heard someone say his name, you were clear, it was him.

It was unlike you to invite yourself into the conversation he was already having with a keen-eyed group of Brits across the room, stationed next to a looming Peter Doig painting and a roaring fire, but you did. Making a joke, dropping your cocktail napkin in your nervousness. When he picked it up mid-sentence and handed it back to you, eyes meeting yours, you knew. You waited a few moments but then told him who you were, the beat you were covering for the impossibly small publication you just started writing for. You were way in over your head.

Maybe you should have covered the state fair first, not the San Francisco film festival post-screening events. The roar of crashing waves just outside the sheer wall of glass was unnerving. You flagged down one of the servers and had another caramel-colored Manhattan with one of those big ice cubes that obscure the actual amount of alcohol. Tom did the same, eyes never leaving you.

He made a joke about the event planners saving money with the big ice cubes, “a deliberate act of malice” he said. By midnight you’d managed to find a cozy red, mostly ornamental couch, with cushions seemingly filled with lead, one shift too many caused Tom to say it first. To ask where you were staying.

You weren’t. That was the thing.

You were going to drive back to ennui filled Napa in the wee morning hours, with the marine layer locked in place, a challenge even for the sober. Which you clearly were not.

*Tom would later correct your pronunciation of ‘ennui’ when you used it in conversation, this may or may not have created a small pause in kinetic flow between you.

He offered for you to have some tea (or coffee because you were American, he promised he drank entirely too much coffee and was an honorary American because of it). He offered to be interviewed in his weekend cliff-facing Bill Turnbull masterpiece.

He was effulgent in his offering. So much so that you worried about how he seemed determined to make a good impression on you, a stranger with no obvious pedigree to situate yourself in a status of his interest.

You made your way inside, and you were right-he is nervously cleaning up. He’d been there for less than 24 hours and somehow managed to leave his running clothes, cliff bar wrappers, and socks all over the front room. He mentions jet lag, and delayed flights on the usually reliable British Airways.

You spy at least 25 pretzel packages on the quartz counter, and you ask Tom if those were from his flight. He gives a “ehehehehehheehe” laugh and says the flight staff was worried because he didn’t like the in-flight meal.

Of course, you asked what it was, how could you not.

It turns out it was beef bourgeon with Yukon potatoes. Tom explains the ‘why’ behind his reluctance to eat the meal, but you are simply not listening anymore. You are caught up in your own anxiety. He smells like blood orange and lilac with cedar. He smells like fancy architecture. He explains the house he is staying in with precise detail, he’s giving a dissertation on the Sea Ranch movement of the 70s but you hear approximately every other word. You are caught up in little visual details between the words you hear.

The way he seems different than the man you had watched on the San Diego Comic-Con reels, the impossibly linguistically delightful rhetorician of arcane theses. His mind accosts you, but his energy seems stuck in his head. It’s unnerving.

You wonder if he is even aware of his body, your body-or how you both are sitting now on the hastily cleaned up front room couch, bare feet accidently touching in thoughtless intervals. He is still beautiful but different, something has changed. You admittedly hadn’t kept up with his work, you were essentially a Marvel adjacent fan at best, and your previous amateur journalism beat was not entertainment, or the arts beat, it was tech.

There is an old wooden clock on the wall and the hourly bell strikes pausing you both, it’s 2:00 am. You laugh to yourself when you realize it’s now February 14th. Not one for any commercialized sentimentality or strange Catholic holidays masquerading as innocuous celebrations of love, you wonder to yourself if they even celebrate Valentine’s Day in England.

You want to ask Tom, but you are careful right now, he’s overly generous and his ego seems hidden under his red beard.

He’s giving “wounded” but there’s still his gaze, his cerulean eyes are boring holes through you. His skin is too golden when spring is still a few months away, it contrasts against his button-down shirt which is unbuttoned quite far. His pants aren’t two sizes too small like you remember him wearing to press events before, but they are still tight, they hug his thighs like neoprene, they are too distracting, you can’t ask if they have Valentine’s Day in London. You’ve never even been to the UK. Your blank passport is a spectral vision hanging over your head, you are a ghost covered with a bedsheet.

You debate a few more long, ponderous minutes before you finally ask if they celebrate Valentine’s Day in England. Tom wonders why you are asking. You remind him-today is now Valentine's Day. He laughs and explains America is much more theatrical than England-Brits don’t fall for heart-shaped boxes of chocolate.

You say, “So what do you guys fall for then?”

“Intelligence.”

You die a little. That’s it. You’ll never get your interview questions out of your mouth, and you may want this to end romantically. Any warm-blooded human would-when faced with the charm of Tom Hiddleston-even if it’s slightly redacted. Even if it’s like the big monolith ice cubes from the party earlier, somehow obscuring the ingredients.

You also want to know more about why he seems so different. You pry a little, your intuition is good enough and you can tell something happened.

Maybe it was a love affair, maybe he’s got mental health issues, maybe it’s being too famous, too known. This level of celebrity and privilege is impossible for you to sort out logically. You’ll likely never know what it feels like to have the kind of money to do anything and everything you’d ever dreamed of doing, and the charisma to attract endless people to bed.

He’s not vapid, though. At least his persona isn’t. He should be but he just isn’t Hollywood. You feel accepted by him, although you wonder how true that is, how true it could be-he comes from a world of strict judgments attached to insane amounts of money. People get exactly what they want. He’s part of that beast. He knows it, but he seems so normal right now. He even says he hates LA. He will never live there.

As you keep talking, words are mixing. Which are your thoughts, and which are his? A prelude perhaps to how he is in bed, all-consuming, immersive. He pulls you in, and you feel invigorated and ready to be supine all at once. Your body slinks down the cushions until you both are sitting on the plush rug, backs against the bottom of the couch.

Tom stares at you with the intensity of an SLS rocket launcher (the knowledge of an SLS rocket launcher is the byproduct of your last beat before entertainment and after tech-military weaponry). He stares at you like he owns you. Like there’s a collar around your neck. You check for a second just to be sure, running your chrome-colored nails against your throat.

Maybe that’s what he is struggling with, having too much pleasure and too much happiness. He’s laying low, attending minuscule film festival after parties in Northern California. Talking to a woman like you at 2:30 am, you feel much like the high tide outside the endless glass windows, disoriented by the lack of the moon's influence.

You close your eyes for just a second, and you can hear his voice mixing with the waves, the alcohol you’ve consumed, and his generous pours of the local wines he was gifted from the nebulas of vintners at the party. He can’t take them back to London, so “we better drink up,” he laughs again, emptying the second bottle into your vintage glass.

Are you holding it from the stem or the cup? Your grip is too tight, you notice. You try and hold the glass with less pressure, but your hands are like talons. If you weren’t holding on to a wine glass, surely it would be Tom’s cock.

Which you had spied the last time he got up to grab another bottle of wine, his jacket tossed on the chair to reveal his form with even more clarity. Although you tried not to look, it was difficult to miss. You assumed he wasn’t even hard yet, too lost in conversation.

You pondered if this was his thing, hooking up casually. It wouldn’t be surprising, but he was just so nice and sincere in all his actions it was hard to sift out the carnal jock with rugby stories from college and pick-up games in his London neighborhood to the starry-eyed poet delivering such lines as:

"When I consider how my light is spent, Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide, And that one Talent which is death to hide, Lodged with me useless, though my soul more bent To serve therewith my Maker, and present My true account, lest He returning chide; “Doth God exact day-labour, light denied?”

By the time the last comp wine was consumed and the waves outside drifted back into low tide, you knew it was now or never.

He hadn’t touched you, not even tried; you were just left with the pleasurable burn from his boyfriend experience. You could feel the wheels turning in his mind. Perhaps he was wondering if he should be less caring, should you get too attached to his attention, his cerulean stare. He couldn’t be. Otherwise, it seemed, even if he put his acting skills to work on changing what appeared to be his perpetually endearing substrate.

He grabbed your wine glass from your hand, and you cautiously released it, wondering about your previous thought of what your hand would grab if it wasn’t a wine glass.

He gently placed his head on your shoulder with his eyes closed. Good god he smelled like heaven. Like signed contracts, like large claw foot bathtubs with a view of the Mediterranean Sea. He smelled like ginger and carrots and felt warm and hard simultaneously.

His skin was soft, but his features, like his triangle shoulder blades and his nose, were strong. They felt like swords piercing your skin. You were slayed by his bone structure even before he put his cock inside you.

You hoped it would be comfortably nestled between your legs by the time the sun began to rise over the luxuriant rock wall the house rested upon. Societal norms, class expectations, and personal relationships be damned. The wine and your own ennui fueled your longing for him—

Continue on to-

Part 2

[achtung-attitude]

CHAPTER 82: Lonely Boy - Part 5

The man in black creeps like a man hunted. Everywhere he looks, he sees clear, sloping land, populating by plants no taller than ankle height. Yet all around, he is pulled at by twigs and branches. He takes a step forward and abruptly ducks, sensing the bough directly in front of his face at the last moment. His frustration grows as he stands to full height. Shizuka, the source of this phenomenon, is nowhere in sight.

“Ridiculous,” All-Kill seethes internally. “She’s toying with me, like I’m some cat chasing a laser pointer!! Who does she think she is, doing this to me?!” Gritting his teeth, he forces himself to calm. “Her ability has a wide range, but not that wide. For the illusions to work, she has to be within their radius. Wherever she’s hiding, I just need to sniff her out…”

Completing this thought, he strides forward again. Almost at once, he nearly trips over. Something strains against his calf before snapping. Something hidden in the underbrush snaps. As he regains his balance, All-Kill recognizes the sensation of what he just stepped through: Some kind of rope or twine.

A WHOOSH of air reaches his ears. The kind accompanied only by something heavy moving through the air. He jumps away before the invisible thing hits him. LONELY BOY fires a punch and renders it to smithereens.

Like hornet stings, pieces of shrapnel pepper his face, forcing All-Kill to throw up his hand. He staggers backwards, only for his foot to fall into a hole. Had he not dulled the nerves in his damaged legs, the impact of his foot on the ground would knock him out.

Again, All-Kill is forced to duck as something else, as heavy and fast as the first, whooshes overhead, threatening to batter his brain.

Fuming, the man in black crawls out of the hole, thinking, “A forest of traps… Swinging logs rigged to burst in splinters… pitfalls… God knows what else…! She’s converted this place into a death trap… Annoy me to death…? Was everything up on the road just to buy time for this…?!”

Out of the hole, All-Kill keeps low. But he steps on something that snaps, and his thoughts are interrupted. From above, several small objects fall. LONELY BOY unleashes its fist to deflect the descending objects, their sounds indicating them to be stones. 

But they are still invisible. Inevitably, one slips through LONELY BOY’s defense and lands on All-Kill’s head. His ears ring, as if a bell rings in his head.

His glasses fall to the ground. Glass shatters and something inside the gangster goes cold. He looks down and sees the left lens has broken into pieces.

The ringing in his ears turns to a volcanic rush of blood. His blurred vision goes red and he roars in rage, “RRRAAAAAAAAAAAGGHHH!!!”

LONELY BOY follows suit, crying out as it sends forth an air blade to rip through the invisible forest. But the sound it makes is wrong. It takes All-Kill a second to notice. His Stand’s voice has changed from a distorted hiss to a guttural growl. A roar he knows of, but has never heard for himself… “UUURRAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!!!!!!”

“What-?” All-Kill gasps, before doubling over from a sudden pain in his head, “GAH!”

LONELY BOY’s assault ceases as its master falls to one knee. It descends to ground level. All-Kill raises his hand and the Stand takes it, supporting him. All-Kill regards the Stand with suspicious, narrowed eyes. It softly hisses, “Shiiirraaaaaaa…”

The man in black holds his gaze, then turns his blurry vision to his surroundings. Seeing nothing but a bare slope, he resolves to close his eyes and listens. “Concentrate…” he whispers. 

Silence. A light breeze blows up the mountainside. Then, a rope shifts. Something swings at him from behind.

“LONELY BOY!!!”

The Stand smashes what feels like a wooden block with nails protruding from it. LONELY BOY’s fist pulverizes it, but another one comes at him from ahead. All-Kill sidesteps, feeling the nails graze his cheek. LONELY BOY smashes it as it swings past. There is no time to rest. He senses them coming from all directions, swinging down from tree branches. Heavy objects, wood and stone. Finally, All-Kill has enough.

“RAAAAAAHHHH!!!”

“SSSSHHHIIIIIIRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!” From around its body, LONELY BOY emits a hail of frozen air blades. They sear through the forest. All-Kill listens to the cracking of wood and the crumbling of tree trunks. He feels hundreds of invisible splinters pepper his skin and clothes. There is no stopping it, until a certain voice cries out in pain.

“AHH!” shouts Shizuka.

All-Kill turns swiftly to the source of the shout. All he sees is a few drops of blood, but that’s enough. “There you are!!!” he cries.

She gasps. The blood disappears, but it’s too late. The man in black is already thundering towards her. LONELY BOY searches the ground and finds what it's looking for: a fallen tree trunk. With a Titan’s strength, it lifts the tree off the ground and THROWS it at Shizuka’s last location. 

The gangster hears a figure leaping and voice crying, “Oof!” With that, he has confirmed his target.

LONELY BOY lunges forward and grabs something invisible. A squeeze of the Stand’s hand causes what it caught to gag. All at once, the world returns to normal. Shizuka phases into being, her throat held tight by the Stand. Around them is the vista of a destroyed forest, now as desolate as ACHTUNG BABY made it appear. 

“Found you,” All-Kill says, glaring into the girl’s eyes. Shizuka glares back.

LONELY BOY throws Shizuka 8 feet in the air. As she descends, ACHTUNG BABY manifests, coming between Shizuka and the enemy Stand as best it can. But everyone present knows this is futile.

“SHIRA!!!” LONELY BOY screeches, releasing a rush of punches and jabs. First it pummels ACHTUNG BABY, then Shizuka when her Stand disappears. “SHIRA SHIRA SHIRA SHIRA SHIRA SHIRA SHIRA SHIRA SHIRA SHIRA SHIRA SHIRA SHIRA SHIRA SHIRA SHIRA SHIRA SHIRA SHIRA SHIRA SHIRA SHIRA SHIRA SHIRA SHIRA SHIRA SHIRA SHIRA SHIRA URAH URAH URAH URAH URAH URAH URAH!!!!!!”

All-Kill watches ambivalently. The force of the rush sends Shizuka flying. She lands over a yard away, further up the slope, into a pile of broken branches and wood split. But the man in black persists, directing his Stand to form an air platform an inch from the ground. BLACK KEYS, emerging from one of LONELY BOY’s palms, pierces the ground.

“Get back down here!” All-Kill shouts.

LONELY BOY turns the key, and all friction in the ground is lost. All of the shattered vegetation slides down the slope, and Shizuka along with it. She tries to grab onto something solid to stop her movement, but her efforts are wasted. “Ough!!” she grunts, striking a tree stump at speed, causing her to fly into the air once again.

Leaving her exposed to LONELY BOY’s fist. “SHIRAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!” With that great cry, it punches Shizuka’s gut. She gags, nearly throwing up, and is sent flying again. 

All-Kill watches her battered figure land in a heap near the edge of a cliff. He struggles to control his breathing. He expected his frustration to dissipate after the chase finally came to an end. Instead, it continues to smolder in his breast. Shizuka begins to move again, slowly trying to raise herself on all fours. All-Kill hears her voice murmur, “y-you…” and gives up on controlling his breathing. LONELY BOY restores the friction on the ground and All-Kill steps down from the platform.

[winniewon]

the less likable goonies pt II

ft @xkilljxy @xavecamour @notwaldenpond @hauntedscreams

"get down!"

damocles and walden visibly startled at the familiar voice as antonin and winnie searched the line of shrubberies for where it originated. he had to be hiding nearby somewhere. underneath a particularly shady pine crouched the distinct, ,sleek outline of one alexander zabini.

as usual, he was clad head to toe in black clothing. sly and secretive, alex could go virtually unnoticed in the unlit forest without speaking. he grabbed the back of antonin's shirt who in turn grabbed walden's arm. they all stumbled back into the brush as a werewolf burst into the clearing.

"what are you doing here?" "what are you doing here?" "what are you doing here?"

winnie laughed as the beast turned on damocles and leapt forward, baring it's fangs.

"it is a full moon!" alexander hissed the exact same explanation for his absence that had been given earlier in the evening. of course he was doing what he did every full moon now.

emma howled from the clearing.

"they said you knew we were doing this!" walden argued. he shoved alexander's shoulder forward. "why would you lead her over here?"

"l-lead?! the hell do you mean lead?!" alex cuffed walden on the back of the head in reply. "I can't lead her anywhere!"

the werewolf paused and turned toward the sounds of bickering. their ears twitched and nostrils flared.

"she's too fast to-" antonin clapped a hand over both their mouths. there was nothing save for the sound of breathing for a brief moment.

then a branch snapped under damocles shoe as he stepped backwards. the lycan's attention returned to him. he quickly tried to take another step away from the feral thing but the heel of his shoe caught on a root and he stumbled to the dirt. emma lunged forward, snarling too close to his face.

"here puppy!" winnie clapped both hands in front of her.

alex ripped antonin's hand off his mouth. "winnie, don't you dare-" his fear was warranted. still before he had the chance to move, walden wrestled both alex's arms down and pinned them behind his back.

"hey. calm down. don't make it worse just trust them. alright?" walden hissed. "they won't kill it if they don't have to I bet." he did not budge against alex's straining even as winnie plucked a stone off the ground.

"beastie~" she called again in a sing song voice and nailed the wolf in the snout with the rock. emma yelped. walden winced. damocles stood back up. winnie widened her stance. alex struggled against the hold on him, and antonin pulled out his wand. emma turned from damocles completely and pounced in a lunatic fury at winnie instead. winnie sprung forward and anchored her elbow underneath their jaw while swinging her leg around the creature's back the same way she would handle an unruly dragon hatchling.

"damocles!" "dam!" "I'm working on it!"

the previously flustered potioneer now possessed completely concise focus as he rifled through his bag for the right bottle.

"oh, take your sweet fucking time, dam!"

"would you shut the fuck up?" damocles produced a potion of a dark color purple in his palm. "winnie move! now!"

without hesitation at the short verbal instruction, winnie dropped her hold on the smaller werewolf entirely and fell hard to the ground. she tucked a shoulder and attempted to roll swiftly away, but did not clear it before claws sank into the flesh of her bicep and tore open a wound. damocles hurled the potion into the air, and realized in a second that it was not going to hit it's target.

"antonin!" "-leviosa!"

thankfully the reaction was lightning fast as antonin whipped his wand arm down in a sharp arc helping the glass to shatter across emma's face. the purple liquid splashed across their nose, eyes, and into their mouth. emma dropped suddenly to a fuzzy heap on the forest floor.

everyone waited frozen in the bright moonlight until a snore ripped through the air from it's chest. they all released a collective exhale.

"...so that went well."

four heads all panned in synchrony towards antonin.

damocles chuckled outright at the wry humor. "that is not the same thing as 'that could have been worse.'"

"is she going to be okay?" walden pointed.

alex pulled free of the now lazy hold that walden had on him and barrelled over to the sleeping wolf as damocles started to inspect the distinct lacerations down the back of winnie's arm.

"yes. it's a simple sleeping draught." damocles muttered. simple, but powerful. he prodded a finger into the skin next to winnie's wound and she slapped him. he rubbed his face. "this is not going to stop bleeding without silver powder and dittany."

"so? who cares?" winnie snarled.

"leaving a trail of your dna is a fast way for a thief to get caught."

walden's eyebrows scrunched together and caused a big wrinkle in the center of his forehead. "get caught? where are we going again?"

alex, now satisfied that emma was, in fact, only sleeping, gestured over to a ratty looking duffel bag half buried in leaves next to the near pine tree. inside were bandages prepped for potential lycanthropy related incidents and several clothing items for different seasons.

"we are breaking into gringott's tonight."

[pagesofserene]

Dec. 14th: 11-Days Before Christmas (2022 Story Relay Marathon)

Hi, kindred souls! This is the second story relay of a 12-day story relay marathon I endorsed to my friend, ShiaraS (Discord: Shiara#5382) , that we will be doing from Dec. 13th to Dec. 24th—AKA 12 days before Christmas!

Since this is a marathon of sorts, we decided to lay some ground rules so we can "finish" each relay for each day. It would start with me drawing a prompt every morning from a plastic container that will serves as our bowl for this occasion. These prompts were collected by us from different sources (I will do my absolute best to give appropriate credit for the original creators/source material).

The story relay would then consist of 5 turns for both of us with a max. of 10-16 sentences each turn. After these, the story relay for that day would be considered "finished". THERE WILL BE NO EDITING DONE FOR ALL STORY RELAYS.

These rules were placed since ShiaraS' exams were also scheduled during the set week.

HERE'S THE WRITING PROMPT FOR TODAY'S STORY RELAY:

He was tracking a reindeer through the woods and came to a clearing. As he walked through the trees a hand pulled at the hem of his shirt. "Finally, we've been waiting for you," said the red and green clad elf. (via Pinterest link by bibliomavens.wordpress.com)

START OF STORY RELAY:

"Let's go. We are way behind schedule already." The tiny creature shuffled to his left. "What? Wh-why?" the man stammered as he tried digged his thumbnail to his index finger. "Hurry. Eric thinks this is not the time for your silly jokes," the elf demanded while wriggling its toes "Who's Eric? And I am not coming with you. Who do you think I am?" "I am Eric." pointing its tiny fingers right in front of its eyes, "You are Leo the Understudy", pointing at the man. "Well, Eric—", Eric the elf waved both of his hands, "—Hi. I am Leopold NOT Leo and I am not an understudy. I am a wildlife photographer.", Leopold showed his camera and Eric looked at it for a few seconds and shook his head with his hands on his waist. "No. No. Eric knows you are Leo, Santa's Understudy."

The man's eyes grew as big as the moon, "Santa's what now?" Eric the elf growled impatiently and pulled on the man's arm again. "We don't have time for your jokes, Leo. Santa needs help right now or the children of the world will wake up very disappointed tomorrow morning." Still dazed by all this, Leo let the little elf pull him through the trees. He had no idea what was going on. He came out here to get some shots of wild reindeer in the snowy forest floor, a sure winner for holiday magazines, and now an elf was telling him he was Santa's understudy? The only thing that made sense was that the eggnog at Chris' party had hit him harder than he imagined. Eric the elf pulled Leo for a long while until they Leo heard the sound of a man's voice not far from them. "Come now, Rudolph, don't be like that." The duo broke through the trees and Leo faced another shock as he saw Santa's sleigh parked feet away from him. But that wasn't what what shocked him, no, it was the sight of a sulking, red nosed, reindeer up a tree branch while Santa Claus tried to lure him down with some carrots.

"Oh Santa, what has gotten to Rudolph this time?" Eric wobbled towards the old man who even with him slouching trying to lay pieces of carrots in a comical pattern still towered over him tenfold. Leopold transfixed for a minute with the scene before him, still managed to whip his camera out and took a handful of shots. He decided that even though a bout of sugar rush from two glasses of eggnog gave him this improbable delirium, he will make the best of it by taking as many photos as he could. Perhaps in the morning, it will result in acceptable nightly pictures. He was so focused on doing so that he failed to observe the jolly tall bearded man who started to walk towards him. "It's been a long time Leo. You've grown!" "You know me?" queried Leopold after taking a portrait of Santa Claus. "Very well! I remember when you were a foot taller than Eric here but now voila!" claps Santa as he peered through his half-moon spectacles. "Who would have thought you'll return?" "Eric did! So as Martha, Lily, Lydia, and many more!" chimed Eric behind Santa Leopold bit the inside of his cheeks. "I'm sorry who are you, really?"

"Come now, Leo," Santa laughed, "Enough with the jokes. I know you had to blend in with the locals but I really do need your help with Rudolph." "I really have no idea what you're talking about! Who are you and why do you keep acting like you know me?" Santa's laughter stopped and he stepped closer to Leo. Leo backed away, uncomfortable with how close Santa was. "You really don't remember?" Santa said morosely. Santa looked defeated as he backed away and sat on a nearby boulder. He looked so sad and hopeless that Leo couldn't help but feel guilty even though he shouldn't. Eric the elf patted Santa's knee in comfort, all the while glaring at Leo. "Look," Leo started, "I'm sorry about all this but either I'm hallucinating or you have the wrong person. Up until today, I thought you were just a fairytale." Santa winced and Leo felt the guilt grow some more. "I am very real, Leopold." Said Santa, "All this is real. I do not know what happened to your memories but if you help me tonight, I believe I can help you restore your memories." Leo frowned. He would be lying if he said something about all this didn't feel right. It's weird and insane but it felt right, more than anything had the past 10 months. There weren't any gaps in his memories, he could tell you where he was born, what day, where he grew up, his first school. He could say it all. But, he would only be saying it. Everything from his past seemed so factual, so devoid of emotion as if reading someone else's biography. He remembered where he grew up but he couldn't remember what game he liked to play when he was a kid. He knew all the subjects he took in school, yet nothing in his memories told him who were his closest friends. Still, is all that enough reason to give in to this madness?

Leo looked over at the reindeer sniffing the air up above the tree. As crazed as anything that happened the last hour or so, he at least was near a reindeer albeit a different one from what he was following earlier. For all that, he could at most help the fabled old man and his overpassionate elf. Never mind how much absurd the situation was. He stepped forward and slowly picked four pieces of carrots off the snow-covered grass which was somehow arranged by Santa into a poor attempt of imitating a wink emoji. The creature was observing him with a look of annoyance, almost challenging him. "Hi, I'm Leopold but your friends here keep calling me, Leo. I guess you could call me that as well if you wanna be friends." Rudolph batted his eyes unbothered. "I hear your name is Rudolph. Can I call you, Ru-Ru?" its antlers gave a slight movement. "Do you like it? I like it enough for you. It suits you. But I gotta say having a tantrum and climbing up trees is definitely not on-brand for your name, Ru-Ru." Leo quipped munching on a carrot. The sound and the look Leo has been showing perked Rudolph's interest. "Oh do you want a carrot?" it started snorting in protest. "You do, do you?" Leo started munching more carrots. "You better hurry getting down here or else I would devour all of these carrots. Nom nom" Rudolph grunted and leapt straight towards Leo. "Woho ho ho! You did it, Leo!" exclaimed the now hopping and clapping Santa followed by Eric's shrill cheers, "Leo The Understudy!"

The next few moments were a blur. As soon as Rudolph had gotten his fill of the carrots, Eric hurried them along to get back to delivering presents. And, before he knew it, Leo was sitting next to Eric in the back seat of Santa's sleigh as the man himself urged the magical flying reindeer to soar higher. The air above the ground is colder and more biting, and yet Leo couldn't feel too unbothered by it. Up here, the clouds were within reach feeling like lightest water between his fingertips, the moon was bigger too, but even more amazingly, the lights from the towns below made it all look like another group of stars on the earth. "This is incredible." Leo gasped. "Still think this is a dream?" Eric asked him and Leo could only shake his head. No, this was definitely not a dream, he couldn't come up with half the amazing things around him. Because of his apparent memory loss, he never got to join Santa and Eric in actually delivering the presents. Instead, he had to stay by the sleigh and keep Rudolph from having any more tantrums. He did learn that when in flight, the reindeer moved so fast that it was impossible to see them unless they wanted to be seen. Anyway, when Santa had delivered his last present to a little boy in the Philippines, they all flew back to the North Pole. "Memories are special." Santa said, "They mold and shape us. Without the right memories, you would be a different person. So, your real memories can't be gone. They're still inside you, just buried." "And if that's true, you can help me? How?" "Every gift I deliver is unique and special. Each one holds a memory. Hopefully, that can help unlock your memories." Leo was unconvinced, "My old gifts?" Santa laughed, "Don't be silly. Not the gifts. The gift wrappers."

Leo stared incredulously at Santa, "Who keeps the wrappers or bags that came with each gift they ever received?" The old man sighed, "I take it you didn't keep any of yours?" "No. Not that I know of." Santa glanced at the young man and gestured towards his camera. "That camera, how long have you been using that?" Leo instinctively clutched his camera and recalled the day he first saw it. It was seven years ago. It was the year all of his classmates and neighbouring kids started to be preoccupied with individual hobbies and clubs of interest. He never really quite understand why it felt like he couldn't find a single interest he could spend hours doing except one thing, observing those that are around him. He was climbing up the bus on the very last day of school before Christmas break. He saw the driver clutching a worn-out bag. He remembered asking about it as he took his seat behind them. It belonged to the lady driver's father who passed away last summer. She found the bag with the untouched camera inside. It's unused by her father and did not have any sentimental value for them. She was contemplating dropping it off at the pawnshop but went against it when she saw how curious and fascinated Leo was. She gave the bag to Leo when then arrived at his stop. Since that day, Leo never went anywhere without it. The lady bus driver, always beamed whenever she saw Leo carrying it and mostly, especially when he was using it. "It's a long time ago. Feels like ages. It came with a bag." Leo saw Santa grinning. "It wasn't from you, it's from my old lady bus driver. Just so you know." "I didn't say it came from me...but the contents, some of it possibly." Leo gaped at him in confusion, "What? There was nothing inside the bag except the camera." " Did you check for other items other than the camera?" "What's in the bag?" Eric poked his knee, "Santa's gift for that year, dippy."

Leo frowned, "Even if any of that's true. We're on our way to the North Pole and that bag is in my apartment. I have work tomorrow." Eric scoffed, "Human brains." "What Eric means to say is that we are currently on the fastest transport in the world. We can stop by your apartment and make it back to the North Pole in no time." Before Leo could protest or agree, Santa had already flicked the reins again and the reindeer sped off into the night. True to his word, they reached Leo,'s apartment in what felt like seconds. Eric went with him while Santa combed the reindeer. Luckily for him, Leo was a bit of a pack rat and the bag was tucked away in a battered box in his storage closet. It was dusty, the leather was all but peeled off, the strap was torn, and the buckle was rusted shut. If Santa was right and gifts told stories, this bag would have a lot to tell. The trip back to the North Pole was as quick as Santa promised and when they got there, they were greeted by cheerful, excited elves. They shot confetti into the air that sparkled like little stars. There was an actual marching band and even jugglers! "Welcome home Santa!" "Ho Ho Ho," Said Santa, "Thank you all for this welcome! It was a long night but I'm glad for it all." "Movie! Movie! Movie!" The elves cheered. Santa laughed as he approached them. "You know the rules everyone. No film until Christmas morning." Leo whispered to Eric, "Film?" "The elves remember every toy they make. When Santa visits a house, he asks the Christmas ornaments to record the kids' reaction to their gifts. We watch them on Christmas morning." Leo looked amazed, "I didn't know that." "Come on, follow me and grab your bag." Eric said. The elf lead Leo to a house at the end of the street.

Before they entered through the door, Leo noticed how this house was different from the ones they passed by. Most houses had twinkling lights and polished finished while this one only has a wreath made from ivory vines and adorned with lilacs and one glowing star. Inside, a series of chimes echoed as they walked to the center where a huge round wooden table stood. Eric nudged Leo towards it and pointed to the bag. Leo placed the bag on the table and watched as Eric climbed on a stool he dragged towards the table. Then he began sniffing and patting the bag all over. His saucer-like wide eyes blinks furiously as he did this for a minute. Suddenly, he giggled and open a flap at the bottom of the bag and revealed a royal blue envelop neatly tucked below. Eric excitedly give the envelop to Leo. "Is that it? I thought there would be some whooshing sound or bright light. I still don't remember." Eric rolled his eyes, "You open it, receive the gift then place the envelop with your both palms on the table." Leo opened the envelop and saw what lies in it, a plastic card. He looked closely and it seems to be a credit card of sorts. It has his name on it written in gold lettering as well as his other personal details. "What is this?" "Oh you got the card all these times and didn't use it! It's a card of all wishes!" cheered Eric who somehow managed climbing on top of the table. "If a child wishes for a thing, you as the Understudy will see a vision of that wish above the child's head like a hazy gray cloud—if the kid was nice but not jolly, and unhappy. A bright red if that kid was naughty but still jolly. Blue, if a kid is both naughty and unhappy. Those are only the things that I know of." "So I grant wishes by swiping the card?" Eric took off his hat and became somber, "No, you do it before and after Christmas only. And you use to buy it anything you think a kid will need to —" Eric air quoting, "—survive so they can last until Christmas for Santa to come to give them presents." "I can do those things?" Leo was incredibly awed by the prospect "Not only you, dippy. There were others you see before you but they chose to live by human rules that they also perish by human ways." "There were others?" "Yes. I believe the owner of this bag and camera was an Understudy." Eric pointed out nonchalantly. Leo gaped and stared at his camera, the bag, and the card. "Why else would he have a brand new camera he didn't use placed inside a wornout bag before he died? It's his last attempt to pass along the torch to you together with Santa's gift."

The gift and seeing the North Pole went a long way to convincing Leo that some of this was real, but he wasn't quite there yet. "I still don't understand what you want from me." He said, "If I'm supposed to be the Understudy, it's pointless now that Christmas has gone." "Weren't you listening? You arrived late. You should have read the card when the former understudy, that bus lady, gave it to you. But you didn't so we had to build extra special toys to make up for your absence." Leo was silent. What else could he say? Who even reads the cards anymore? He didn't even know those were still popular. "I'm sorry ... I..." "Don't be sorry." Eric said and handed Leo a thick brown book and a candy cane. "Just read this." Leo frowned and sniffed the book. "Is this a gingerbread book?" "Of course it is. Did you think it would be leather?" He almost said, yes, but with how Eric laughed at the word, leather, he figured it wasn't important. He was currently talking with an elf in the North Pole after getting a lift on Santa's sleigh. The book was indeed made of gingerbread and right in the middle of the book was an empty space in the shape of a candy cane. Leo looked at the candy cane Eric gave him and placed it in the space. The effect was immediate and the book opened before him. The pages inside were, thankfully, made of regular paper. "The Understudy" He read aloud. "This is the story of every understudy that came before you." Eric explained, "Read this to know more about who you are and why the children of the world need you." Leo gulped, he considered closing the book and running to the sleigh, flying back to his apartment, and forgetting all this madness. But something stopped him. Call it fate or magic, whatever it was, Leo decided to trust it and read the book.

THE END. OR IS IT?

Please stay tuned for the rest of the story relays we will be doing!