#the range candle holders

[justadeadreaper]

My friend says I have to write this as an apology for what I posted yesterday as apparently what I wrote was not fluff but angst as it made a few people cry so I have to make up for it with actual fluff. Now that I have said what I think König would do for you when he goes on a long deployment so that you remember how much he loves you when you miss him how about we now hear what I think he does while on the deployments and then a third post detailing what he does when he finally gets back home. 

Yes, König has an issue with being the cockiest man alive but he has another trait(s) that can be considered a thousand times worse, this is how he is extremely possessive and obsessed with what he considers his. It is why he struggles to be apart from you for so long when he is on his missions for months or years at a time even if he keeps actively choosing them for the rush of adrenaline that has to pump through his veins due to how addicted the military made him to the thrill. As mentioned before, the giant will spend any chance and time he gets to write you letters that normally entail how everything is going before going over how greatly he misses you and would prefer to be in your arms in the luxury of your soft bed compared to the cold, lifeless floors of wherever he is. Normally, he ends all his letters asking how you are and what you have been doing, like asking how your hobbies have been going and if you have been using his card to treat yourself while he is gone. 

If he has signal and is in a safe area where he has no worries about calling or checking his phone you can bet that he will be checking every single security camera he has in the house to see what you are doing without telling you as he just loves to see how you are in your natural habitat even if others would call him a peeping Tom for such actions. Sometimes he will even call you on a second phone to talk to you as he watches what you do, sometimes he loves to be a tease and ask what you are doing and make hints towards what you are doing just so he can see the confused look on your face and ask if he is a mind reader.

Due to his kleptomaniac tendencies from how he grew up with virtually nothing to the point he now needs to have everything he was never able to have when he was a child, he will collect trinkets for you to gift you once he gets back home. These trinkets can virtually be anything he was able to get his large, sticky hands on like the jewellery he scavenges from the corpses of all the enemies he has killed so that he can return home to you as he loves seeing you in anything shiny or objects he just likes the look of that he found when scouting the area which itself ranges from a pretty rock he found in a stream to things he found in a ruined house like ornaments that could be used to decorate your home to things such as spoons or weirdly shaped objects that he just found interesting and thought you would find pretty too or souvenirs or clothes he brought in nearby cities, towns, villages or countries to the area his mission was set in as to share the location with you and as a way to make off another area he has been in and successfully come back alive from or it could be something grimmer that just hits the right spot with his morbid thought process he calls normal such as the bones of enemies or dead animals he found that he will eventually DIY to create something useful or pretty to put around the house (the last time he did such a thing he made you multiple candle holders using the arm and hand bones of enemies as he said it looked so pretty to see the wax drip down the bones onto the platform underneath) or he would bring back the weapons or clothing of the enemies he killed if he thought it was pretty or interesting enough to add to the collection he lets you use to protect yourself with while he is gone or cool enough to add to his many uniforms.

Although, his kleptomaniac tendencies do not just stop at inanimate objects. Quite a few of his subordinates and teammates joke that if you find a stray animal you can not kill it but you have to hide it no matter what situation you are in due to König’s horrible habit of collecting animals he finds like Pokémon cards. If König finds a stray animal in the area or one he finds too interesting it is no longer a stray but his pet no matter what it is even if it is as feral as a dog with rabies. This habit was first discovered by his team when he would keep the interesting enough spiders they asked him to dispose of as he would keep them in containers and feed them whatever bug he found around the area but it never stopped there. It was then reaffirmed once they found him sneaking a pair of rats into his bag since he thought they were too cute as they had the audacity to try and bite a hole through his boot. Over the years it became more apparent with every new animal he gathered and brought home to you or how you would suddenly find a new pet such as the toad that now lives by the small fairy pond he built by the rose bushes as he saved it from his team as Tor thought it was a good idea to use it as target practice. If he finds an animal on the mission that he finds cute or interesting enough you can surely bet that he will bring it home to add to the family since he knows you can not refuse his puppy dog eyes that tug on your heartstrings.

If you speak a language he does not and someone on his team can speak it he will be pestering his team member to teach him, but if he does not he will have taken a few small books for him to learn from when he is restless at night and unable to sleep due to his insomnia just so that when he comes home he will be able to surprise you with knowing some of your language.

And like I have mentioned before, he takes mini journals alongside with him where he will be able to sketch you with details of the scenery around him or he will write poems or thoughts about you just to get his mind off of you so they do not clog his thoughts and distract him which creates the risk of him being too distracted and not being alert enough which ends up with him not having the chance to come home to you which neither of you want to happen. The journals are so sappy and sweet but can sometimes be vulgar with its content, he does not dare show it anyone but you, but that only happens once he is finished and every page is full so he can give it you once he is next deployed.

But in the end, all he is waiting for is for the mission to be over so that he can come back to you alive and well so that he can be in your arms once more and spoil you with all the gifts he brought from the mission and when he got back to say sorry for being gone for so long.

[travelingthief]

Lord Apollo Devotional Post

Divination

Tarot/Oracle decks

Pendulums

Rune stones

Charm casting supplies

Crystal balls

Scrying bowls

All divination tools

Cookie fortunes

Tea leaves

Art

Paint brushes/paints

Canvases

Colored pencils/markers/crayons

Collages

Journals

Art books

Art prints

Anything you made

Sculptures 

Zines

Stickers

Any art supplies

Music

Music boxes

Records/CDs/Cassettes

Record players/radios/MP3 etc.

Headphones

Music posters

Band merch

Instruments/String instruments

Dance shoes

Concert tickets

CD book holders

Sun and Light

Sun imagery

Sunscreen

Aloe for sunburns

Golden objects

Matches

Candles

Sunflowers/sunflower seeds

Health and Healing

First aid kits

Medicine

Pain relievers

Band-aids

Ice/heat packs

Rice socks 

Masks

Aloe

Ambulance toy cars

Adaptive aids

Archery 

Darts

Bow and arrows

Arrow quiver

Dart board

Targets 

Bullseye 

Myth Related

Snake skins

Snake imagery (Python)

Laurels

Bay leaves (Daphne)

Palm trees (Birth myth)

Ravens/Crows 

Crow feathers (Why the crow is black)

Cattle/turtles (Hermes birth myth)

Swans (Pulled His chariot)

Hyacinths (Hyacinthus)

Locks of hair 

Food

Vanilla

Honey

Sunny D

Lemons/lemon juice

Oranges/orange juice

Citrus

Water

Devotional Acts

Health

Take your meds

Go to therapy

Exercise

Wear a mask (We are still in a pandemic y’all)

Get vaccinated

Get STI tested

Self care

Learn first aid/CPR

Keep a first aid kit at home/in your car

Learn about alternative medicine

Advocate for accessible healthcare

Advocate for disability rights

Volunteer at a hospital

Give blood/plasma

Volunteer at a retirement home

Learn about anatomy/biology/nutrition

Learn about health conditions/rare disorders

Eat healthy for your body

Help fund surgeries if you can

Trip sit for someone

Listen to your body

Sunlight

Sunbathe

Wear sunscreen

Start a garden

Make sun water

Open all the windows on a sunny day

Music

Go to a concert/show

Listen to music

Make a playlist for someone you love

Make a playlist for Apollo

Learn an instrument/play and instrument

Dance

Sing

Support local bands

Explore new music

Burn CDs

Divination/Prophecy

Daily tarot card/rune stones

Make an oracle deck

Give divination readings

Shadow work

Colormancy

Art

Make something

Draw/paint/craft

Write a poem/story

Color

Make a zine

Go see a play

Get a tattoo

Archery

Throw darts

Use a slingshot

Take up archery

Go to a shooting range

[an-android-in-a-tutu]

Romancing the Exit Sign

Art: @nickelkeep

Writing: @an-android-in-a-tutu

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Graphic Depictions of Violence

Other Tags: Alternate Universe, Eldritch Horror, Cults, Gore, Suicidal Ideation, Mystery

Summary: A teenage boy is left to die in a shallow grave and something slithers into his bones. Devotees of an ancient god work to bring Her into the world, as with equivalent fanaticism, a man on a mission picks them off one by one. A lonesome drifter crosses paths with a mysterious stranger and finds himself inexorably drawn into the middle of it all.

Dean Winchester is adrift. All he has is his car, the next hunt, and a conversation he doesn't want to have waiting for him in California. Then a case involving mangled bodies washing up on shore in an idyllic lakeside community puts him on the trail of a man calling himself Castiel, and the dangerous web he's entangled in. Dean is used to living in a world of monsters, but the End of Days is a little out of his wheelhouse. Especially when his only ally is determined to keep his secrets behind his teeth, even as they draw closer together. Still, he intends to see things through, no matter how dark the path ahead gets.

It's either that, or call his brother.

Excerpt:

The smell of rot was stronger here, flies buzzing away over what looked to be the remains of animals, shunted into the corners, bones and bits of fur and unidentifiable red mush. The walls were covered with scrawls, symbols and pictures painted in something dark and shiny, and pools of wax melted around stubs of burnt out candles littered the room. The centerpiece, though, was the massive pool of blood that had soaked into the decaying floorboards, half obscuring the scrawl of a magic circle underneath, five points of a star, each adorned with a tool of the trade: an offering bowl filled with lumpy ash, an incense holder, a dull copper coloured knife, a bundle of herbs and feathers, and a black crystal.

“Guess it was a gateway drug after all,” he muttered, stepping forward and tracing the script that filled the circle with his eyes. He couldn’t identify it, but he didn’t have to be a scholar to figure whatever it was was major bad juju.

Cas stood with his back to all of it, staring at the symbols on the wall across from the door.

“Looks like we found the right place,” Dean said wryly. “Good call, Cas.”

Cas didn’t answer, stayed facing the wall. Something about the line of his back set Dean ill at ease.

“Hey-” He took another step forward.

Something whispered in his ear.

Dean whirled, staring into the empty space behind him, his hand coming up to his neck where he could have sworn he’d felt someone’s breath.

“What the hell-” He took two steps back, away from the open door, jumping when his foot collided with the offering bowl, knocking it over with a clatter that rang loud in the silence.

No, not silence. There was whispering, still. Constant, so quiet as to be indistinct, but if Dean strained his ears he could just hear it.

“Cas?” He called out, shaky. “Do you hear…”

His voice died in his throat as he turned and caught sight of the man again, silhouetted against that strange mural, a jarring gap in the twisting symbols that seemed to draw them in, they curled towards him, writhing on the wall as the room darkened, the shadows pulling in and the whispers getting louder until he could make out the shape of words-

Come home.

Dean’s pulse pounded in his ears, a drumbeat to accompany the chant. Come home, come home, come home to me. In front of the wall of writhing shadows, Cas started to turn, and something in Dean quailed, knowing he wasn’t prepared, wasn’t ready, but stuck in place all the same by his wanting.

Come home to the Mother.

Coming in October as part of the @deancashorrorfest!

[dalsofile]

dinner date night

You and Nayeon enjoy a romantic dinner at a quaint Italian restaurant, then continue the evening with playful homemade pasta-making and conversations at home.

tags :: romance, date night, candle lit dinner, cooking together

wc :: 1,859

cast :: y/n, nayeon

song :: someday i'll find my way home - carol & tuesday

You and Nayeon had been eagerly anticipating this dinner date night for weeks. The excitement had been building ever since you decided to spend a special evening together at a quaint, candle-lit Italian restaurant nestled away in a quiet corner of the city. You both wanted a setting that was intimate and romantic, a place where you could unwind and enjoy each other’s company without the distractions of everyday life.

As you approached the restaurant, the soft glow from the flickering candles in the window promised an inviting ambiance. The air was filled with the rich aroma of freshly baked bread and simmering pasta sauces, mingling with the subtle scent of herbs and spices. It felt like the restaurant was already setting the stage for a perfect evening.

The host greeted you warmly and led you to a cozy table near the window. The table was adorned with a delicate lace tablecloth and a single candle in a polished brass holder, its light dancing softly across the surface. Nayeon, ever the gentleman, pulled out a chair for you, and you smiled appreciatively as you took your seat.

“This place is even more charming than I imagined,” you said, looking around at the cozy, romantic setting.

Nayeon smiled, her eyes sparkling in the candlelight. “I’m glad you think so. I wanted this night to be special for us.”

You both perused the menu with a sense of anticipation. After a brief but pleasant deliberation, you decided on a bottle of the finest red wine – a choice that seemed fitting for the occasion.

“To us,” Nayeon said, raising her glass in a toast.

“To us,” you echoed, clinking your glasses together. The deep ruby red of the wine caught the candlelight and cast a warm glow over your faces.

The night unfolded with a sense of ease and joy. You shared stories, your laughter intertwining with the soft strains of music playing in the background. Every now and then, your fingers brushed across the table, and you exchanged sweet, lingering kisses that spoke volumes more than words ever could.

“This is the perfect evening,” you said, gazing into Nayeon’s eyes.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Nayeon replied, a smile playing on her lips. “Everything about tonight feels right.”

The food arrived, and it was nothing short of divine. You began with a fresh Caprese salad, the tomatoes and mozzarella perfectly complemented by a drizzle of balsamic glaze. Each bite was a burst of flavor.

“This salad is amazing,” you said, savoring another bite. “It’s like a taste of summer.”

Nayeon nodded in agreement. “I’m glad you like it. The tomatoes are so fresh; I think that’s what makes it so delicious.”

For the main course, you decided to share a creamy risotto and a perfectly cooked steak. The risotto was rich and buttery, with just the right amount of seasoning, while the steak was tender and juicy, melting in your mouth with every bite.

“This steak is cooked to perfection,” Nayeon said, cutting a piece of the steak and offering it to you on her fork.

You took a bite and moaned in delight. “I couldn’t agree more. It’s like heaven.”

Dessert was a highlight of the meal – a decadent tiramisu that was as beautiful as it was delicious. The layers of coffee-soaked ladyfingers and mascarpone cream created a symphony of flavors.

“This tiramisu is out of this world,” you said, your eyes widening in amazement.

Nayeon grinned. “I’m glad you think so. I was hoping it would be a perfect end to the meal.”

As you left the restaurant, the effects of the wine were beginning to make themselves known. Your steps were a bit wobbly, and your laughter rang out freely in the quiet streets. The city lights twinkled above, casting a magical glow over the surroundings.

“This night has been incredible,” Nayeon said, slipping her hand into yours.

“I know,” you replied, squeezing her hand gently. “I’ve had such a great time.”

When you arrived back at your cozy apartment, the night was still young, and the fun was far from over. Nayeon, with her cheeks flushed from the wine, suggested continuing the evening by cooking something together. The idea of making homemade pasta seemed both romantic and practical, and you agreed wholeheartedly.

“Homemade pasta sounds perfect,” you said, your eyes lighting up with excitement. “It’ll be fun.”

“I thought you might like that,” Nayeon replied with a wink. “Let’s get to it!”

You made your way to the kitchen, your movements slightly unsteady but filled with excitement. As you rummaged through the cabinets and drawers, pulling out ingredients with clumsy hands, it was clear that this would be no ordinary cooking session.

“Where did I put the rolling pin?” you wondered aloud, digging through a drawer.

“Here, let me help,” Nayeon said, reaching over and finding it for you. “I think we’ve got this, even if it gets a little messy.”

The kitchen soon filled with your laughter and playful banter. Nayeon, attempting to knead the pasta dough, ended up with flour on her nose and a bit of dough stuck to her hands.

“You look like a pastry chef from a cartoon,” you said, laughing as you saw Nayeon’s comical appearance.

“Hey, I’m just getting into character,” Nayeon replied with a playful grin. “At least the dough’s turning out well.”

As you prepared the pasta, Nayeon leaned in close to you, her breath warm against your ear. “You’re so beautiful,” she whispered, her words slightly slurred but filled with genuine affection.

You blushed and turned to meet Nayeon’s gaze. “You’re making me blush,” you said with a smile. Your lips met in a sweet, lingering kiss, the warmth of your love mingling with the warmth of the kitchen.

Your playful antics continued as you cooked. Nayeon accidentally dropped a bit of pasta dough on the counter, causing both of you to burst into fits of giggles.

“Oops! That was a bit of a mess,” Nayeon said, chuckling as she tried to clean up the dough.

“You’re doing great,” you reassured her, grabbing a cloth to help clean up. “And besides, the mess just means we’re having fun.”

You playfully floured Nayeon’s hair, and soon, you were both covered in a comical mix of flour and dough, your kitchen resembling a chaotic, joyful mess.

“Now we’re truly pasta chefs,” Nayeon said, grinning as she looked at your flour-covered faces.

Despite the disarray, you managed to prepare a delicious homemade pasta dish. You cooked the pasta to perfection, and Nayeon made a rich, savory tomato sauce with a touch of garlic and basil. The kitchen smelled amazing, and you couldn’t wait to taste the fruits of your labor.

“This pasta is incredible,” you said, taking a bite of the dish. “I think we’ve outdone ourselves.”

“I have to agree,” Nayeon said, savoring a forkful of the pasta. “It tastes even better because we made it together.”

You sat down at the kitchen table, your fingers sticky with sauce, and fed each other bites of the warm, comforting pasta. Each bite was accompanied by a kiss, a giggle, or a whispered sweet nothing, making the simple act of eating homemade pasta a cherished part of your evening.

“This is my favorite part of the night,” Nayeon said, looking into your eyes. “Just being here with you.”

“I feel the same way,” you replied, your heart swelling with affection. “It’s perfect.”

As the night wore on, you found yourselves sitting on the kitchen floor, leaning against each other, your hands intertwined. Nayeon looked at you, her eyes filled with love and contentment.

“This has been the best night ever,” she said softly, her voice filled with emotion.

You smiled and kissed her gently. “I couldn’t agree more,” you replied. You stayed there for a while, savoring the moment, knowing that no matter what, you had each other. The warmth of your connection was palpable, and the love you felt for each other was a comforting presence in your lives.

After some time, you got up to start cleaning the kitchen, still giggling as you glanced over at Nayeon, who was attempting to help but mostly just getting in the way.

“I’m trying to be useful,” Nayeon said with a mock-serious tone as she handed you a sponge. “But I think I’m just making more of a mess.”

“You’re doing great,” you said with a chuckle. “I wouldn’t want to be cleaning up this mess without you.”

Nayeon, determined to be useful, decided to make some hot chocolate. She carefully heated the milk on the stove, adding cocoa powder and sugar, and stirred it slowly. The rich aroma of the hot chocolate filled the kitchen, adding to the cozy atmosphere of the evening.

“Hot chocolate should help us unwind after all this cooking,” Nayeon said, pouring the steaming drink into mugs.

“Perfect idea,” you said, taking a sip of the rich, comforting beverage. “This is just what we need.”

Once the hot chocolate was ready, you sat back down at the table, sipping the warm drink. Nayeon reached out and took your hand, your fingers intertwining. “I love you,” she said softly, her voice filled with emotion.

Your eyes sparkled as you looked at Nayeon. “I love you too,” you replied, your voice equally tender. You sat there in comfortable silence, simply enjoying each other’s presence and the peacefulness of the moment.

Eventually, you decided to move to the living room, where you cuddled up on the couch under a soft blanket. Nayeon rested her head on your shoulder, feeling completely content.

“This has been the perfect end to a perfect night,” Nayeon said, her voice soft and content.

“I couldn’t agree more,” you said, wrapping your arms around her. “I’m so happy we had this time together.”

You talked about your dreams and plans for the future, your words filled with hope and love. Each conversation brought you closer, deepening your connection and reinforcing your commitment to each other.

As the night drew to a close, you found yourselves growing sleepy. You made your way to the bedroom, where you changed into your pajamas and climbed into bed. The soft glow of the bedside lamp cast a gentle light over the room, creating a serene and intimate atmosphere.

Nayeon wrapped her arms around you, pulling you close. “Goodnight, my love,” she whispered, her voice filled with warmth and tenderness.

You snuggled closer, your heart full of love. “Goodnight,” you replied softly, your voice carrying a promise of affection and devotion.

You fell asleep in each other’s arms, your breaths falling into a synchronized rhythm as you drifted off to dreamland. The night was filled with the soft sound of your breathing and the occasional rustle of the blankets, a comforting reminder of the love you shared and the joy of spending such a perfect evening together.

In your dreams, you danced through a world of endless possibilities, your hearts forever intertwined. The night you had spent together was a beautiful chapter in your love story, a memory you would cherish and hold close as you continued to build your future together.

[hoe4sports]

The receipt

Alexia Putellas ft Mapi Leon x Reader

A/N: I’m discovering a new found obsession with Alexia.

Triggers: nothing, google translate Spanish.

You were casually placing up the newest curtains that you had got in earlier that morning. It was so peaceful to work in an interior design store especially during the morning shifts. You got to spend time walking around touching soft materials, looking at new bedsheet covers and blankets. You got to talk to so many new kind people within one day. It was the perfect job for you.It was Monday morning, and the awaited new items had come in a bit late. You were struggling with the big boxes being everywhere in the litte shop, but regardless you loved seeing what things were in trend and what had just arrived.

A hand suddenly tapped your shoulder leaving you terrified as you were busy daydreaming about what my future appartment was gonna look like. You turned around and it was the sweetest old man. “Good morning, is there anything I could do to assist you today?” You said as you smiled while climbing down from the little latter you had been using to hang the curtains.

“Good morning Miss, actually yes, my wife is celebrating her 90th birthday this week and I want to get her something special.” The old man replied as he smiled. You nodded and looked around you for inspiration. “Is there anything you had in mind or do you want some help?” You said as you smiled knowing exactly what you wanted to recommend to him. “I could really use some help, she has so many things!” He exclaimed as he zipped his jacket down. The store was always very hot, so you definitely understood him. “I have the perfect idea! What about a robe? We have multiple kinds. We have thicker materials, silk, cotton or even have linen.” You said as you walked towards the bathroom department of the store where we had the robes. I pulled out the rack of robes and showed him the colors. “Wow” he said as he touched them. “She likes pink and she is a cold person” he said as he furrowed his brows into a thinking position. “Perhaps this pink one thats double layered, then” you said as you pulled it out of the rack. “That will do!” He said as he smiled widely clearly satisfied with himself. “Does she like good smells, soaps, towels?” You asked as the man nodded rapidly. “I suggest this pink soap bottle with a rosy smell, this complementing room spray and this matching towel” you said as you put them together to portray what they would look like. The old man nodded as he smiled widely. “Ring me up Miss!” he insisted as you made you way to the desk. You rang him up, he paid and you wrapped the gift in a cute giftbox adding a variety of ribbons and a tag. You did your very best to make the gift look special and the older man was visibly pleased. “Here, for your wife sir!” You said as you handed him the beautifully wrapped box. The man thanked you multiple times and told me how he was always happy to shop with you because of your very thoughtful customer service. You thanked him and waved him goodbye as he walked out.

This was the part of your job that you loved. You loved seeing customers get just what they want, have their visions come to life and be pleased to find something they have looked for. You walked over to the pile of boxes and pulled out some candle holders in crystal. They were something that every rich hausfrau would need. You kept unpacking the latest news and got to the bedding section. There were tons of new styles coming in synch with the season changing from winter to spring. You grabbed the higher latter from the back and climbed up to place the bedding. The bedding was heavy and you were juggling them back and forth between places to find the perfect spot for the new arrival.

“Hola, Do you work here yes?” A voice said behind you as it tapped my hip. You turned around and there was a woman standing next to the latter looking up at me. She was quite attractive, and you felt slightly embarrassed by the fact that your ass was in the same height of as head since you were up on the latter. You jumped down, and smiled. “Good morning mrs, is there anything I can do to help you this morning?” You said as a put down the items I had tried to place before getting interrupted. Her friend came around the isle and she had funny a look on her face. “Si bonita, yo necesito una..” she was stopped by a smack in the back of her head. “Tonto! Tienes que hablar Inglés!” the other woman exclaimed. “Dios mío! Cállate por favor!” the attractive woman said back. You smiled knowing that you could speak perfectly Spanish as your step father was Spanish. He had been brought into your life as a toddler and he insisted in spaking Spanish with you claiming that it would help your learning abilities. “Sorry, yes, I need some clothes for the bed.” She said in a clearly Spanish accent. You giggled “Clothes for the bed?Sheets? You need sheets?” You said as she blushed.

“Dios mío! Estupido de mierda. Nos estás avergonzando a los dos delante de la cura.” the woman said as she shook her head. You giggled again as you started walking. “Follow me please”. You came to the baskets with sheets and you looked at the pair. The blonde woman was still red and the brown haired woman looked like she was gonna piss herself laughing. “Cotton or satin, what do you prefer?” You asked as you touched the sheets in front of you. The blonde woman’s eyes widened. You smiled and explained.

“Cotton is cheaper. It stretches but I also gets wrinkly. Satin is more expensive, more silky but it dosent pill and it dosent wrinkle. Both have the fitted sheet look.” You said as a reached out for one of each for her to touch. She touched the sheets and looked confused. “What is your preference?” She asked. “Oh, I use the satin ones! They feeling cooling on the skin and they are way more durable than the cotton ones.” You said as she nodded. “I’ll take the satin then” she said as she winked. Did she just flirt with me? You shook the thought of quickly. “Now, what color do you prefer? We have navy, black, grey, white and cream” you said as you pointed to the different types. “Dios mio! Realmente necesito encontrar una novia.” the brunette said as she playfully slapped the blonde’s toned bicep.

“The navy and black sheets dosent work well with blonde hair or fur. The white or cream sheets dosent work if you have a partner with black hair or black pet fur.” You said as you smiled while you were silently hoping that there was no partner. “I’ll go with crème then, no partner.” she said as she smiled shyly and looked at your blonde hair. You were doing everything you could to not blush.

You beeped the sheet and looked at her. “It’s 49 punds. Are you a member?” You asked as you were focusing on the screen in front of me. She shook her head. “Do you wanna be a member? I would just need your phone number.” You said as you smiled hoping you could sign her up as a member because it would mean that you got extra bonuses. “Si, dale tu numero!” the brunette whispered and nudged her. “Yes, +34 914 36 38 40, you can write my name as Alexia Putellas.” she said and you happily obliged. “Quieres una bolsa para ello o lo tomas como estás?” You smirked as the blonde blushed and the brunette bend down hysterically laughing. “Ella puede entender español, mierda estúpida” she wheezed out. “I’ll take a bag.” The blonde muttered while looking down at the bank terminal. She paid for it and you handed her the sheet in a bag with the recite. “Thank you, and goodbye!” You said as the pair started walking out. You got back into working on bedding placement when after a while, a hand tapped my knee. Jesus, you thought to yourself, not one moment to finish the wall. “Good morning, how ca-“ you stopped as you saw the blonde woman again handing you a reciet. “You dropped it.” She said as she disappeared out of the store. You opened the receipt to see who had lost it so you could keep it if they came back. The recite had pen marks on it and when you looked closer it was a message.

“If you ever want coffee, +34 914 36 38 40.

-Alexia “

[stayteezdreams]

And His Name Was Death {Part One}

Summoned

Plot: What happens when you accidentally summon death himself, and he decides he doesn't want to leave?

{Part Two}

Pairing: Death!Park Seonghwa x Gn!Reader

Requests: "I thought I saw something" + 'You meet Death himself, and he seems to have a crush on you.' + 'The creaking of an old door' + 'Accidentally summoning a demon while decorating'

Requested by: Anonymous; @tumbleboof and @amalialoved

A/n: yeah...I enjoyed writing these requests so much it turned into a series.

Warnings: Mildly suggestive content. Mentions of death (obviously)

Words: ~5.3k

Joy radiated through you as you rifled through the various decorations you had picked up on your recent trip into town. You could never resist decorations, especially Halloween decorations.

Between the festive scented candles, candle holders, themed mugs, fake webs, and candy, your counter top was covered in your new purchases.

Your eyes drifted to the last bag as you delicately pulled it open. Lifting out the object wrapped in brown paper, you unwrapped. Smiling softly at the old book, you ran your fingers over it. It had clearly been heavily used and was obviously quite old. The cover was engraved with barely legible markings, in a language you guessed was Latin, or at least similar to it.

Flipping through the pages, your eyes scanned the various blocks of text you couldn't understand, as well as random sketched pictures ranging from plants, to weapons, and what you assume were various monsters.

When you had gone to the antique store, you didn't really intend to buy anything, but when you spotted the old book sitting on a shelf, somewhat hidden behind an old lock box, you felt almost drawn to it. For a moment it felt as though you recognized it, like it was yours, but obviously you had never seen it before.

When you picked it up, you couldn't ignore the desire to buy it that bubbled up, so you did just that. You convinced yourself it would be a good Halloween decoration, though it did cost more than the other decorations you had bought combined. Something you would be convincing yourself was a good idea for a while. Though you feared you would just end up regretting it later.

As you reached the last page of the book as you quickly flipped through it, you stopped as you saw two handwritten passages on the back cover. It was in ink but had obviously been written a long time ago.

You ran your finger over the top passage as you wondered what it was. It was written in another language, but you found yourself muttering the words out loud as best as you could.

When you finished the first passage, you felt a wave of dizziness wash over you and you closed your eyes, shaking your head softly as you opened them again. The dizziness passed, and you hummed to yourself. After a moment's thought, you figured it was because you hadn't eaten yet.

Your eyes drifted to the second passage, but before you could read it, you jolted as you heard a loud fluttering sound similar to wings coming from behind you. Looking back towards the hallway, you furrowed your brow.

'Did a bird get in?' You thought to yourself as you made your way cautiously towards where the noise had originated.

After checking every room and making sure no windows were open, you wandered back to the kitchen, no bird being found. You shook your head, thinking maybe it had just flown past the window and sounded like it was inside.

Your eyes locked on the book and you frowned, pausing in your steps. It was now shut, though you swore you hadn't closed it. As you walked back to the book, you felt goosebumps rise up your arms and neck.

Instead of opening it again, you set it up on the counter beside the cauldron candy bowl. After sparing it one more curious glance, you continued to set out the decorations, only stopping when there was a knock at your door. You grinned to yourself as you quickly padded towards the door, knowing your friends had arrived for an evening hangout.

One Halloween movie later, you all stretched and joked as Yeosang and Wooyoung argued over the next movie to be put it. San made his way to the kitchen to grab some more candy, and you heard him call out to you a moment later.

Looking back at him, you saw him assessing the old book, "What's this?"

You turned around and smiled, "Isn't it cool? I found it at an old antique shop. I thought it would make a cool decoration."

"It's creepy." Yesoang commented as he looked over to see what San had.

"That's the point." Wooyoung said with a scoff, causing Yeosang to glare at him.

Seeing San suddenly look back further into the house, you followed his line of sight. "What?"

He slowly looked back at you and shook his head a bit, "I thought I saw something."

You felt goosebumps rise up your arms again but ignored them. "I thought I heard something earlier, like a bird got in, but I couldn't find anything."

"Want me to look?"

"Sure." You said with a soft nod, watching as he made his way into the back of your house.

As you watched him disappear, you got an odd feeling in your stomach, like a knot starting to form. As you began to rise, feeling as though you should follow him, he came back out with a shrug of his shoulders.

"I didn't see anything."

"Huh." You plopped back down, feeling a bit of relief wash over you, though the knot in your stomach still remained.

"Maybe your house is haunted." Wooyoung teased making you roll your eyes.

Though, when you spared the book another glance, and your mind flashed back to it being closed when you swore you left it open, you almost believed his words.

As Yeosang put another movie in, after winning against Wooyoung in rock, paper, scissors, and San had his fill of candy choices, you tried to distract yourself from your wandering thoughts.

Your thoughts however were only distracted for a short time, as you caught onto an unfamiliar figure in the TV's reflection as the screen went black momentarily. It was only for a second, but you swore someone was standing right behind you.

Not wanting to freak yourself out, you slowly turned your head, finding that the room was empty behind you. You stared down the darkened hallway, as you felt as though you were being watched. Looking back at the book, you took in a deep breath.

"Are you sure there was nothing when you looked San?"

San looked over at you, noticing you peering back at the dark area of your house.

He frowned "Yeah I'm sure, why?"

"I don't know" You hesitated, "I just...got a weird feeling."

Yeosang had now paused the movie and he and Wooyoung looked back down the hallway as well.

San stood up tapping Wooyoung's leg, "Come on."

You looked over at them as they all stood up, "What are you doing?"

"We'll check everything, so you can feel better about it okay?"

You smiled at him as you stood up as well, "That would make me feel better."

He smiled and nodded as you all walked through the house, checking every closet and every room. Yeosang checked every door and window until you were satisfied.

You sat back on the couch with a sigh, "Maybe watching horror movies when I know I live alone isn't such a good idea." You joked, making the others chuckle.

"Or, maybe I was right." Wooyoung wiggled his eyebrows and you smacked his shoulder. "Shut up! I do not want to think about my house being haunted Woo."

He chuckled, "Sorry, sorry. I'm sure it's not, I'm just joking."

"Come on, let's put in a more lighthearted movie. That will be better right?" Yeosang asked looking at you, and you nodded with a smile, grateful he wanted you to feel more comfortable.

Even with the house fully checked, you felt uneasy when the time came for the three to go home. You knew your house was empty, you knew you were safe, but something felt...off.

San gave you a soft smile, "You gonna be okay?"

You nodded your head, "Yeah, I'll be fine." It wasn't a lie, you hoped.

Throwing away candy wrappers and washing your drinking glasses, you started to feel a bit better as your house grew quiet. As you began to sing softly to yourself, your nerves began to settle even more. You really were just riling yourself up with stupid thoughts.

Creak

Your voice went silent and your whole body froze as the door at the end of the hallway creaked open.

Looking to your left, you slowly reached over, grabbing the heavy candle holder you had bought earlier in the day. Silently, you walked to the hall and turned the light on, seeing it empty ahead of you. The door was in fact open and you felt your heart thump painfully in your chest.

You let out a shaky breath as you slowly crept down the hall, peering into every room, until you finally checked the last room, yet finding nothing once again.

You cursed to yourself as you walked back into your kitchen. Scoffing as you set the candle holder down, you grabbed the book and stared at it.

"You're not really haunted, are you?"

"Not quite."

Gasping you dropped the book as you quickly grabbed the candle holder, spinning around you saw a man standing a few feet away. Chucking the candle holder at him, he dodged it, though barely, as he was surprised by your quick movements.

You froze for a second as the man looked back at you, surprise fading into a smirk, "Good reflexes."

Quickly reaching behind you, you grabbed a knife from the counter and held it defensively.

His smirked seemed to widen, "A fighter too."

"Who are you?" You asked boldly, though there was a waver in your voice.

He quirked his brow, "Shouldn't you know? You called me here."

He could see the confusion that crossed your face and his interest continued to pique.

"What do you mean?" Your grip tightened around the handle of the knife.

Tilting his head softly, his eyes drifted to the book on the counter behind you, "That little incantation you read earlier."

You quickly glance at the book, and your eyes furrowed more, "What?"

He furrowed his brow before he scoffed, "You have magic in your veins and you aren't even aware of it."

You were as far away from the man as you could get but fully cornered in your kitchen. Eyeing the counter, you knew you were fully prepared to vault over it if needed.

"What does that mean? Who are you?" You asked again, your voice holding more force than before.

"It means you are a child of witches. No matter how far back in your bloodline, only those with magic in their blood can use that book. And you summoned me."

"S-summoned?"

Your heart pounded in your chest as your mind went wild. This guy was crazy, or maybe you were crazy. Whichever one it was, nothing was making sense.

Slowly, the man smiled, showing his bright white teeth. Bowing to you, he peered up, and as his eyes met yours you could see they were now completely black. Your heart jolted with shock as you felt locked in place.

"And to answer your other question. I am Death." Standing straight up again, you watched as his eyes faded back to brown. "But, you can call me Seonghwa. It is the name I go by with humans."

"Yeah, I'm going crazy." You muttered, staring almost blankly at him.

He tilted his head and a soft smile graced his face. "Is that easier to believe?"

"Is it easier to believe I'm going crazy over the fact that I somehow summoned Death into my house? Yeah, a bit."

He grinned at your words before he moved to walk into your living room. You followed him with your eyes, taking the moment to move out of your kitchen and to an area you could easily make a break for it if needed.

Looking around he smiled, "At least I didn't get summoned by someone who wanted to use me, or trap me. Last time that happened- Well, it didn't work out very well for him."

A shiver ran up your spine at his words, and you spoke again, your voice soft, and showing your new fear.

"Are you going to kill me?

Slowly he looked over at you, and for a moment you saw what you could only describe as dejection.

"Do you want to die?" He asked slowly, making your breath catch.

You shook your head, "No."

He smiled again and you almost felt relieved. "Then no, I am not going to kill you."

As he looked back towards your living room, you watched him pick up a piece of chocolate and eat it. You took this moment to fully take in his appearance.

His black hair perfectly matched his fully black outfit, and you couldn't deny he was gorgeous, almost ethereal even. If he wasn't a stranger claiming to be Death as he walked around your house as if he hadn't broken in, you might be flirting with him.

Looking over at you, his eyes scanned you before landing on the knife still in your hand.

"That won't do anything by the way." He commented with a casual tone.

Your eyes fell down to the knife in your hand and you held it tighter. "You say that, but it makes me feel better."

His lip quirked up slightly, "Then keep it."

You glanced over at the book and recalled everything that had happened since you bought it. Noises, shadows in the corner of your eyes, the feeling of being watched, but never finding or seeing anyone. Maybe he really was telling the truth.

"Why- what is an incantation to summon death doing written in the back of an old book?"

He shrugged "Well, it's not just an old book, its a grimoire, a spell book for witches. And it belonged to the last man who summoned me. The one who trapped me." You could hear malice in his voice as he looked back over at the book and your chest tightened.

"The one you killed?"

His eyes fell on you and his brow quirked, "How do you know I killed him?"

"You implied it. Besides, you said you were Death." You quickly answered.

His lips curled into a smile you would normally find charming if he weren't so unnerving.

"Smart too." He hummed as he turned to face you fully, his eyes scanned you up and down, as something you didn't recognize flashed in his eyes.

He started to walk slowly towards you and a shiver crawled up your spine, you backed away, and your felt your heart drop as your back hit the wall. Lifting your hand you reminded him of the knife as you gripped it, ready to fight if needed.

He stopped right in front of you and you felt your breath catch. The tip of the knife was pressed to his chest, but he didn't so much as blink.

Lifting his hand, he reached towards your face, his fingers gently caressing your cheek.

"Brave, strong-willed, smart, and beautiful."

His touch was cold, but it felt nice, and you resisted the urge to let out a sigh. The thought alone jarring you. You should be afraid, you should be yelling, running, fighting, but you weren't.

You met his eyes and you were startled by the softness he held in his gaze.

"What do you want from me?" You asked, voice soft, just above a whisper.

He tilted his head ever so slightly as he admired your face, dropping his hand.

"I was going to ask you that." Stepping away from you, he walked over to your fridge, pulling it open. "You summoned me, though I now know it was an accident. What was it you told your friend? You thought it would make a nice decoration?" You could hear a note of amusement in his tone.

You watched him rummage through your fridge as you thought back on your conversation with San. So he really had been here in the house, unseen, invisible. You recalled the reflection in the TV and you shivered.

Silently you walked back over to the book, the grimoire, as he called it. Quietly flipping through it, you wondered if every passage was a different spell. And you couldn't help but wonder, if you summoned him could you maybe do more?

You glanced back up at him, seeing him investigating your left-overs. Setting the knife down, you continued to flip to the end of the book.

Finding the last passage, the one you had summoned him with, your eyes fell to the second half, the part you had not read aloud. If the first half summoned him, perhaps the second half-

Before you could even finish your thought, you were being pressed up against the counter, hands held down at your sides, as Seonghwa's chest was pressed against your own. His nose brushed yours as his eyes held an intense gaze with yours.

"Don't." His voice was strong, but you thought you heard...panic?

"Don't what?" You asked somewhat breathlessly, still startled by his quick movements. You hadn't even seen him step away from the fridge.

"Read it."

"Why?" You asked, a challenge in your tone. You already knew you had been right, and from his reaction, he knew you knew it too.

"Because I don't want to go."

You felt your gut twist at the sudden vulnerability on his face, the tone of his voice did show fear, and almost desperation.

"Wh-why?" You asked again, your tone softer this time.

You felt his grip on your wrists loosen, but he still held you against him. Seonghwa debated telling you, what if you were secretly cruel? Just waiting for the perfect moment to get your hands back on the book? But as he studied your gaze a bit longer, he saw the genuine curiosity, and kindness peaking through, he also saw concern. For him? He felt his chest clench.

No, you weren't cruel, you were something...else. Something that intrigued him more than he could fully understand just yet.

"It's been so long since I've come here without cause or instruction, I'd like to stay. Unless you demand something of me."

"Demand?"

"You summoned me, and because of that, you have some realm of control over me. So tell me, what do you want?"

You stared into his eyes and saw various emotions coursing through them. What had others who summoned him demanded he do? He was Death, so did that mean he was summoned to kill? And who? Innocent people? Evil people? What did the man who owned the grimoire before you do to him when he trapped him?

The more you thought of these possibilities, the more you could make sense of the emotions in his gaze. He was afraid, he was angry, he was tired. He wanted to be free.

You found yourself shaking your head. "I don't want anything."

Seonghwa studied your face for a moment, his eyes grazing over your lips longer than he fully intended. He let go of your hands as he let out a breath.

You would really wish nothing of him? You had a powerful, God-like being at your beckoning, and you wanted nothing?

A smile formed on his face. "Kind too. I'll add that to the list."

You felt a smile tugging at your lips, but you pushed it away. "So can you only come here when you are summoned?"

Seonghwa smiled. So you had finally accepted he was really Death. Now, you were curious. Usually he might ignore your questions and flee, but you were, more or less, setting him free. And, something made him not want to leave, at least not quite yet.

"Or to take souls to the Underworld. But most times, I can only stay for a short time. Until my bidding is done."

"And...are you the only Death? I mean, there can't just be you, right?"

"No, there are many of us. We are demons, a type at least."

Your brow furrowed, "I thought Death was supposed to be an Angel?"

"The original one was, yes. But Angels can only handle so much death before they are tainted by it. Demons are not."

You nodded as if you understood, but you only grew more confused by the second.

"I don't know why I'm telling you this so easily." He mused, his tone holding both curiosity and amusement.

"And I don't know why I'm not freaking out."

He smiled as a soft chuckle left his mouth and as you smiled in return, he felt his heart skip a beat. As he studied you his gaze almost became playful.

You felt your ears and neck growing hot, "What?" You asked, uncertain what to do under his gaze.

A smirk formed on his face, "I like you." He said matter-of-factly.

You could no longer ignore the heat that had risen up your neck, or the way your heart pounded in your chest. How and why did he make you feel like this, when you had been terrified not too long ago?

Before you could respond, you heard a knock on your door, causing you to flinch out of surprise.

Seonghwa glanced towards your door before he looked back at you. He tried to ignore the disappointment that filled his chest as you looked away from him. He hated interruptions.

"Your friend is back."

You looked from the door to him and he motioned his head for you to go. You slowly walked away, leaving the kitchen, and his line of sight, still uneasy due to his previous actions. He wasn't going to do anything to whoever was at the door was he?

Peeping out of the window, you saw San bouncing on his feet outside your door. You rose your brow as you wondered how Seonghwa had known it was one of your friends. And why were you referring to him as Seonghwa like you knew him??

As you disappeared from his sight Seonghwa looked down at the grimoire before picking it up. It really could do you good, if you learned more about your magic. But, as long as that incantation was in the back, he couldn't let you have it. Not if you might change your mind about letting him stay.

He could hear you answer the door, and knew you wouldn't say anything about his presence. If you did, you would just sound crazy, and he wouldn't be here to prove that wrong.

"Hey! I left my phone in the living room." San said as soon as you opened the door, before he rushed inside "I gotta get it before Wooyoung drives off without me."

"Oh, I can get it!"

He chuckled "That's okay, I'll be quick!" He called back as he headed past the kitchen where Seonghwa was.

You followed him, fear spiking through you, what would Seonghwa do? What would San do? As you rounded the corner, you saw San grabbing his phone from the table, while the kitchen was empty, Seonghwa no where in sight. Your eyes landed on the counter and your heart jumped. He had taken the book.

San grinned at you, "Got it! Sorry, I'll talk to you tomorrow okay?!" He called as he jogged out of the house and towards Wooyoung's car as he sat impatiently out front.

You looked around, wondering where Seonghwa had gone. Had he really left? You walked swiftly through your house and didn't find him. He had taken the book and vanished. Of course he would. That was the smart thing to do.

Your thoughts swam for a moment as your eyes stared blankly at where the book had been.

Why wouldn't he leave? I didn't command him to do anything and he just wanted to be free. And he took the book...because I could use it to send him back to...well wherever it was he came from.

You knew he was smart for taking the book, but why did he leave? And why did your chest ache because of it? Was he going to come back? Or was that the first and last time you would meet the black haired demon? Would you see him again years down the road when you die? Were you really descended from witches?

Thoughts plagued you as you sat on the couch. How had your day gone from so normal, to so earth-shatteringly complicated in the span of a few hours?

Slowly, without really noticing, you started to sink lower into the couch as your mind slowed, exhaustion from the adrenaline of your evening. Giving into it, mind foggy, you lied down, accepting sleep as it washed over you.

Maybe this was all a dream, and I've been asleep the whole time.

That was the last coherent thought that crossed your mind. So lost in the fog of sleep, you could barely register the sound of wings fluttering nearby, or the sound of footsteps approaching you. The soft caress of fingertips across your cheek might have shocked you if your mind had been more alert.

As your body became weightless, you stirred for only a moment before you drifted into a deep sleep.

When you woke the next morning the thoughts of the previous night rushed to your mind. There was no way that actually happened, right?

You sat up and looked down at yourself. You had never changed into your pajamas. In fact, you had fallen asleep on the couch, not in your bed. So, how were you in your bedroom now?

The image of Seonghwa appeared in your mind and your chest tightened.

It wasn't a dream, was it?

Walking out into your living room, your eyes scanned the room, before landing on the kitchen counter. Walking over you found the candle-holder you had thrown now sitting on the edge of the table. And the spot where you had placed the book was empty.

Would he come back? Should you wait?

No. No, I have a life, I can't sit and wait around for Death.

The sudden thought almost made you laugh. The thought would be more profound if it weren't a person you were referring too.

Deciding to get dressed and go to work, you tried not to focus on all of the new thoughts and questions plaguing your mind. But you found very little to distract yourself with. All day you looked around expecting to see Seonghwa watching you. Every time you heard the sound of a bird fly past your eyes darted around.

Was it just your mind that made you so paranoid? When every time you felt like you were being watched, or that someone was behind you even though no one was there. Was it just you? Or was it really him?

You weren't sure why, but you kept yourself so busy with work you stayed late. Then you decided to run errands that didn't even need to be done.

It was all because you were afraid to go home. But why, is what confused you. It wasn't that you were afraid he would show up, it was that you wanted him too.

You should be terrified, but you just wanted to know more. More about what or who he is. More about yourself and magic.

Was it morbid curiosity? Was it attraction to some form of darkness you didn't understand?

You hated that you couldn't sort your thoughts out. And all you felt was exhaustion by the time you finally got home. You ran out of things to keep you away, so you gave in.

As you stepped into your quite house, you looked around, checking each room casually before you let out a sigh and wandered over to the fridge.

He took the book, he is free to do what he wants, he's not coming back. Why would he?

Leaning down to look through the fridge, your whole body froze as the sound of fluttering wings came from behind you. Slowly, you stood up, before turning to peer over your shoulder.

You knew what you were going to see, but your heart still jumped as you set eyes on Seonghwa. He stared at you from across the room, a small smile on his face.

Slowly turning around, you closed the fridge as you stared at him in silence for a moment.

"And here I was beginning to wonder if you were ever real at all." You mumbled, trying to steady your heavy beating heart.

His small smile widened but he stayed silent.

Your eyes wandered to where the book had been and you met his eyes. "Wanted to make sure I couldn't send you back?"

He glanced to the kitchen counter and for a second you thought you saw guilt cross his face before he shrugged his head.

"Yes. Honestly I should have gotten rid of it last time, but I had no idea the incantation was written in the book itself."

"You could have just asked." You mumbled almost under your breath, and he noted the mild offense in your tone.

He looked you up and down and took a step closer before tilting his head. "Are you saying you wouldn't have done it?"

You laced your hands together behind your back as you kept eye contact with him. You walked away from the fridge and around the counter to face him straight on.

"I don't know. I'm still struggling to understand if this is all real or-"

"Or if you're going crazy?"

You nodded slowly as he finished your thought. Suddenly, he began walking towards you, you hesitated, only stepping back as he nearly ran into you. You let out a soft gasp as your back hit the wall.

You met his eyes in mild panic and uncertainty, but he simply stared into your eyes with a soft smile. His forehead nearly brushed yours as he got closer. Slowly, he lifted his hand and brushed his knuckles against the side of your face before cupping your cheek.

"Do you feel that?"

Your voice had vanished, but you nodded.

His other hand rubbed against your own before he laced his fingers through yours and held your hand.

"And that?"

You nodded again, your heart pounding so hard you were sure he could feel it himself.

He smiled before he slowly removed his hand and took a step back, "Then this is real, and you are not crazy"

Opening your mouth, you hesitated for second before you finally found your voice again. "Why did you come back?"

He stared at you for a moment before raising his brow.

"You took the book, I can't send you back, you're free to stay, just like you wanted. So why did you come back here?"

He kept his eyes locked with yours in silence for a moment before he hummed under his breath.

"I wondered that too, and I can come to only one conclusion."

You waited in silence, questioning him with your gaze. Your breath caught as he leaned forward again, closing the distance he had just put between you.

Seonghwa brought his face next to yours, as his breath tickled your ear.

"I want you."

Your eyes widened as you took in his words, but before you could respond a gust of air and the sound of fluttering wings caused you to flinch and blink in surprise. As you opened them again, he was gone, as though he had never been there at all.

You let out a staggered breath as the tension in your body released.

Taking everything in, you felt dizzy from the amount of thoughts passing through your head. But all of it came crashing down as you let out a bewildered breath and the only thing you could truly muster.

"What the fuck."

xx End xx

{Part Two}

Series Taglist Open

General Taglist: @otsilliak, @brattybunfornct, @bahng-chrizz, @otakutrash669

Ateez Taglist: @soso59love-blog, @thunderous-wolf

[pinkiepiebones]

caught.

Very short fill for Dracfied Week day 1 "Genderbend/rule 63" that I most certainly did not write in half an hour today

When Robert Montague Renfield arrived at Castle Dracula, he was terribly nervous. He had dealt with a lot of strange bullshit to get there- a sworn oath to not tell a single soul of his destination- which did not go over well at the real estate office to whom he was employed-, the native inhabitants of these lands trying to give him or sell him crucifixes (he wasn't sure; his grasp on the language amounted to politely explaining he didn't know their language), spicy food, a midnight coach ride through the sloping, narrow roads of the Carpathian Mountain range, and now, as he stood in the bitter cold before an ancient weatherworn set of imposing wooden doors, he was beginning to dread that this deal had been some sort of drawn-out elaborate prank.

Then there was the sound of a key turning in a heavy rusted lock.

Robert straightened and gathered up his suitcase as the doors creaked open. The courtyard had been in a state of decay, strange vines strangling the battered stone edifices, but the foyer of the castle was worse, somehow. Several tall candelabras were positioned around this once-grand entryway and offered some flickering illumination. Robert's wide blue eyes took in the elaborate mosaic on the floor; as he walked carefully around he noted the the tile components were faded, some cracked, all had once joined to create the stylised image of a great beast with bat-like wings. The Count's crest, perhaps. Cobwebs hung thick from walls and ceilings as though they had become replacements for tapestries and curtains. The stone staircase to Robert's right was so thick with dust he had at first mistaken it for some strange animal hide. 

At the top landing of the stairs a single, blueish-white point of light hovered. Robert stopped his mosaic meandering to look up. Something about the bewitching light made him feel small, and afraid, as a rabbit catching the glint of a hunting rifle through the tall grass.

The light began to move, descending the staircase. A person wrapped in sleek black furs was clutching a small candle holder, the flame was the light he had watched. Robert chuckled to himself and removed his hat, respectfully, and spoke as the figure approached.

"Count Dracula, I presume?"

The person in furs smiled cooly.

"Countess," she said sweetly. "And you are Mister Renfield, yes?"

Robert shifted his weight from one foot to the other. The Countess's gaze was sharp and heavy. "Ah, yes, madam," he said. "I'm so sorry, is your, is your husband up at this hour? I thought I had been corresponding w-"

Countess Dracula raised a pale hand, her long, red nails shimmering in the candlelight. "There is no Count. Only myself." A smirk sat on her full lips. "It was not my intention to mislead you or misrepresent myself, Mister Renfield. My English leaves something to be... desired."

Robert swallowed a lump in his throat. His wedding ring was suddenly quite heavy on his hand.

Countess Dracula almost seemed to glide gracefully down the crumbling stairs. "Ah, my manners! Please, come in, let us see about making you warm, yes?" She removed her coat and Robert instinctively bent down so she could set it on his shoulders. It smelled sweet, and coppery. 

Countess Dracula ghosted her fingernails against the back of Robert's neck as she moved, and his wandering eyes stole shameful glances down the front of her crimson dress as she adjusted the coat's collar for him, one hand still holding the odd candle.

She stepped back and flicked her wrist and he stood as if by command. She looked him over, assessing. "This will do until the fire is strong, yes?" She turned and started walking. "Come, little lamb, you must eat and sleep before we discuss the business." She smiled, exposing fang-like teeth.

"And I must eat, as well."

Robert nodded and eagerly followed her deeper into the darkness.

[tinycherry0]

Pretty as a Picture

Abby Anderson x shy!artist!fem! Reader

Okay so this is the first fanficton I’ve written in a quite while, don’t expect this to be a normal occurrence lol. I’m only writing this because it’s an idea that I had that needed to be written into existence 😭 (also side note this turned out to be longer than I anticipated 💀) so enjoy!

This wasn’t the first time you’d been assigned with Abby for a patrol; yet every time you were assigned with Abby you got nervous jitters, butterflies in your stomach, heart aching, and mind racing about being around her.

You couldn’t help it, she was single-handedly the most attractive woman you’d ever met. Her strong, secure, and powerful persona made your knees and heart weak. Along with her well-built muscular figure, cute freckles that adorned her face and toned arms, and the rare times when she did smile made you melt.

So when you found out you were assigned on a patrol with her in the morning? You couldn’t help but be giddy with excitement.

You stripped out of your clothes until you were in your tank top and underwear, leaving the rest of your clothes neatly laid out on a chair next to your bed for in the morning. You lit a candle on your nightstand for light, shifting to your black-leathery worn cross-body bag you took everywhere with you, searching for your sketchbook and pencil. You smiled to yourself as you found them, closing the bag and placing it at the foot of your bed. You wanted to see if you were able to draw Abby without her as a reference.

I probably should be going to bed though..is it creepy to draw someone you barely talk to without their knowledge?..

You shook the thought, opening your sketchbook and gliding the pencil on the paper as you recalled memories of being around Abby. Her strong and beautiful features, freckles that danced around her pale skin, cute lips and nose, and powerful blue eyes that bore right into your soul.

A half hour of sketching later, you were still unhappy with the results. It just doesn’t look right you thought. You pursed your lips in frustration as you shoved your sketchbook and pencil back into your bag, hoping that tomorrow there would be a window of opportunity to draw Abby when you were with her, when she wouldn’t notice.

The last thing you needed was to embarrass yourself in front of Abby. What if she saw it and thought you were a total creep? Drawing her without her knowledge or permission? You couldn’t have that.

You tried your best to shut down all negative thoughts as you blew out the candle you lit, drops of white wax now littered around the candle holder. You plopped your head against the pillow, closing your eyes, waiting for sleep to take you.

You woke up the next morning as your alarm blared. You were lucky enough to have one, this one you found on a patrol a few months ago. The clock read 4:30 AM as you shut off the loud noise, quickly getting out of bed and getting dressed. Normally you would have been tired, especially considering you had only gotten 3 hours of sleep but all you could think about was Abby, aching to be around her. You dreaded being late, as you didn’t want Abby to think of you as an unreliable slacker. No, you wanted Abby to see you as you saw her.

You brushed your hair and made yourself look presentable, making sure you didn’t smell and that you were decently clean. You grabbed your cross-body bag and put on your boots, heading out to the spot you said you’d both meet.

You were supposed to just look around the area for supplies and infected, nothing really special. Soon enough you saw Abby standing tall by the spot you said you’d both meet.

The sun wouldn’t rise for another half hour so it was still slightly dark out, but luckily you had your flashlight with you.

“Ready to go?” Abby’s powerful voice rang through your ears, already making you feel weak with want for her. You nodded your head, smiling slightly up at her as she nodded. You both started walking, not saying much of anything, just enjoying hearing the trees rustle in the wind, birds chirping around you along with crickets and cicadas.

Abby walked slightly ahead but still beside you, making it easier to look at her without her knowing. You couldn’t help but stare, but little to your knowledge she knew your eyes were on her. She smirked a little and narrowed her eyes back to you, making your face engulf in a pink blush.

You look away quickly, pretending there was something oh so interesting up above you, trying to look anywhere but at her. She chuckled to herself, making you blush even harder. “W-what’s so funny?” You mentally punched yourself for saying that aloud, but your mouth spoke before you could even think about what you were saying.

“Hmm..it’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

About an hour passed but with little luck. You both found a small abandoned convenience store that had a bottle of rubbing alcohol, some large bandaids but most importantly some bottled water, but that was it. You both stopped by a cliff side that had 2 decaying logs laying across from each other as seats, both talking one of the bottles of water and sitting separately.

As Abby stared out into the cliff side, you took notice how the warm morning sun lighting up her features made her look so breathtakingly beautiful. You took out your sketchbook and pencil, flipping to a blank page and started sketching. It’s now or never you thought.

Abby hadn’t said much, aware of the fact that you were drawing something but didn’t ask you about it, just letting you do your own thing. But it wasn’t until she noticed your glances up at her every so often that made her intrigued in what you were drawing.

You both sat silently for about 15 minutes, Abby making use of the time by cleaning her weapons, pretending not to notice your eyes scanning her features every once in a while. But while you were engaged in sketching, she silently got up and crept behind you, making sure to be dead silent with each step. As she got behind you and leaned towards your figure, you almost had a heart attack hearing her voice behind you.

“Whatcha drawin’?”

She had a smug smirk plastered on her face, face inches from yours as you nearly jumped out of your seat. You quickly looked at her, arms clutching your sketchbook to your chest and face red with embarrassment as your mouth hung open in shock. You tried to say something but you couldn’t, so you averted your eyes and shyly handed your sketchbook to Abby. She took it from you and her eyes immediately widened as her face grew red and mind raced.

How the fuck did she draw this so quickly? I look like a fucking goddess!! And she captured my facial features and muscles so good??

It was confident to say that you left Abby Anderson speechless that day. But while her mind was racing with thoughts of holy fucking shit this is amazing, you thought her mind was raving about how much of a creep you were. You grew more and more nervous with each passing second, starting to regret drawing her until Abby finally spoke up.

“I..I don’t know what to say..” She chuckled and had a slight smile on her face, still engaged in your talent.

“Do..do you think I’m creepy? I’m sorry I drew you without permission, it’s just that-“ She cut you off.

“What?? Are you kidding me? I absolutely love this. You’re artwork is insane, you captured me perfectly.”

You jolted your head up at her words, looking into her eyes for any sort of doubt, but you found none. She was being genuine, and her smile made your heart melt along with her complements. “You really think so?” You also smiled up at her.

She nodded and sat down on the log next to you, looking back at the sketch. “What compelled you to draw me anyway?” Abby asked you, looking at you with a soft smile.

“I..um…I..uh…“ You couldn’t say it. You couldn’t spit out the reason you drew her! You couldn’t just casually say you drew her because she was the hottest woman on Earth even though it was true and what you were thinking. You blushed and looked away, trying to come up with a believable fib but before you could, Abby spoke up.

“Ohhh, I see..you have a crush on me, don’t you?” She smirked at you, inching closer to your face, looking at you up and down with half lidded eyes.

You weren’t expecting Abby to be so forward. You couldn’t even look her in the eyes, just mindlessly looking at the floor and toying with the strands of your hair nervously. That was until she lightly grabbed your chin and made you meet her gaze. You looked at her with wide eyes, lips parted and cheeks pink with embarrassment.

“I asked you a question, pretty girl..you gonna answer it?”

Your face was pink before, but now tomato red at what Abby had called you. Your heart felt like it was going to thump out of your chest but you managed to stutter out a sentence that was barely over a whisper.

“I-um..I do..have a..crush on you, Abby.” You could barely keep your voice steady as you said it, eyes still looking into hers. She just smirked at you and looked you up and down, letting go of your chin but inching her face closer.

“Hmm..that’s what I thought when I kept noticing your eyes on me. You’re not very sneaky about it y’know.”

She was so close to you. All your senses were flooded with the smell of her pine soap you loved so much.

“Um, sorry about that..I couldn’t help it.”

“You couldn’t help but stare at me? That’s cute. Why? What’s so interesting about me?”

She was so straightforward it was driving you crazy. Did she really expect you to answer a question like that??

Yes, she did.

“I..well..that’s a hard question to answer. There’s a lot of things about you I like..but, if I have to be honest, I’ve never met someone as captivating as you.”

You couldn’t believe you said it. You looked away in embarrassment, toying with your hands, face flushed as your heart felt like it was going to explode for the millionth time.

“Well, I think you’re pretty captivating yourself. You’re cute, and you draw really damn well. I’d like to get to know you better, if that’s okay with you.”

Abby got up from the log you both were occupying and grabbed her backpack, swinging it up onto her shoulder. You looked up at her and smiled warmly.

“I’d like to get to know you too.”

[lorei-writes]

Elements

Kanetsugu x Reader Fluff-adjacent/Comfort-adjacent (Conflict) ~700 words Eros (Sensual Love) + “I find it quite difficult to keep my composure when you are around." + Kiss + Thrill

Loves, it feels so good to feel well enough to write. It is unreal. I'm so incredibly happy I could write a whole essay on it.

My second entry for Shapes of Love Creation Challenge @violettduchess and I are hosting. It is also my first entry for @queengiuliettafirstlady 's Love Booth Challenge... And a request from my inbox :)

Content Warnings: war (implied)

Thunder churns in the wiry clouds above, lightning whips striking the impertinent soil, so littered with arrows and discarded armour that little of it remains untouched. A drop spills from the heaven’s cup – to the memory of the fallen, for their honour… to conceal the drops that follow, for skies too do cry. Bellowing winds claw their way from below the ground. The nights, their sole objective is to haunt. But not you. Not you. For the love of any god or gods, of anything that is holy and is real, provided that any such things exist at all. Not. You.

Thunder churns in the wiry clouds above, lightning whips striking the impertinent soil, so littered with arrows and discarded armour that little of it remains untouched. A drop spills from the heaven’s cup – to the memory of the fallen, for their honour… to conceal the drops that follow, for skies too do cry. Bellowing winds claw their way from below the ground. The nights, their sole objective is to haunt. But not you. Not you. For the love of any god or gods, of anything that is holy and is real, provided that any such things exist at all. Not. You.

Fist slams against the table. Metal candle holder plinks; the inside of the tent is dimly lit, although even that little could be considered a luxury. Had the circumstances not required it, the commanding strategist would also resign himself to the cold embrace of darkness, treading the shallows of memories still too fresh to bear any salty tears. Now, however, Kanetsugu wishes to howl for a different reason. His eyes have lost their shine, their wisteria having withered and rotted away, only his canines glistening with spit as he near snarls. Barely not a beast yet not fully human, he seems to struggle against invisible snares.

“Why are you here?” he demands.

You meet his gaze. You meet his hurt. But since you have caused it, you cannot just comfort it away. “Where do you think I should be?”

“In Azuchi. In Kasugayama. Hell, for all I care, Aoba or Yonezawa. But not here!”

“Yeah?! And do you think I could be there?! Do you think I could just wait?!” Your palms hit the map, strikes delivered to depicted mountain ranges echoing through the very real ground underneath your feet, materialising in form of quakes brought forth by Kanetsugu’s steps. You turn to take on his storm directly. Sparks fly off his gritted teeth and electricity raises the hair at the back of your neck.

“So pretending to be a soldier was the better option?!” he thunders in your face.

“I —”

“I could have sent you to your death!”

You do not reply. There are no words you could offer him, not when even the flame trembles as his hands reach for you, half-expecting to pass through your flesh.

“How do you think I would feel if you died?” he whispers, hot breath spilling over your lips as he draws close. Kanetsugu cups your cheeks in his rough hands, desperate fingertips pressing into your skin to quench his disbelief. You are real. You are real. You still are real and it almost hurts, but you do not protest against him, do not tear him away from yourself. “If I killed you?”

His lips fall over yours like heavy rain, the emotion he so withheld flooding you as he allows his dams to break. Forceful like the elements, Kanetsugu presses on and pushes you back, until you have no choice but to drown in him. The table shakes and your hair spreads over the mapped out lakes, ink depths emerging to steal you, to claim you as theirs — and they would, most definitely would. But you cling to your love, he your disaster and he your only haven, the lifeline both enabling and preventing you from sinking to the very bottom of dismay. Your fingers grasp at his robes, draw him closer still, let go just to travel upstream and to anchor themselves in his hair. You don’t need to breathe. Not when Kanetsugu is there, not when he overfills you with his groans, not when his hips rock against yours, so strained with need and —

Kanetsugu lets go of you. Lashes shield his eyes, so you cannot gauge the state of his soul. Unsure of whether any turbulent currents continue to stir turmoil underneath his skin, you stare at him, only for your vision to be cut short as your foreheads touch.

“I find it quite difficult to keep my composure when you are around,” Kanetsugu rasps. “But if you were gone, I’d lose myself fully.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You’d better be.”

--

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+requested by: @bestbryn

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[sobeautifullyobsessed]

🎄Wrapped Up In Christmas Memories🎄

a Stephen Strange x Hope Collins fic

Chapter Two

genre: angst, catharsis, healing...and above all, love ❤️

characters: Stephen Strange, Hope Collins (OFC); established relationship

word count: 3.0k

moodboard by @strangelock221b 💙🩵💜

The weeks ticked down towards Christmas, and Stephen remained as occupied with his work as in any other month of the year. And still Hope held steadfast to her promise to ask nothing but his tolerance as she rang the season in. Every few days, when he emerged from attending to his Sanctum duties or his ongoing studies, or returned from a far-flung mission or from Kamar-Taj itself, he would find she had added some new decoration or holiday detail, making not only his quarters, but the main floor as well, ever more festive. Her Artist's eye insured that she kept everything tasteful and in accord with the surroundings. Hope's latest addition had been an evergreen garland for the fireplace on the main floor, lit with colorful fairy lights and frosted candle holders of varying heights bearing ivory or red candles, nested along the greenery.

Whenever he complimented her newest handiwork, Hope would give a modest little shrug as she thanked him, moving onto the next subject of conversation without so much as a pause--though Stephen could absolutely feel how pleased she was. Thus, their equilibrium continued, and despite his ambivalence about the holiday season, he found himself quietly looking forward to each new surprise.

One such surprise was Hope's newfound dedication to attending the weekly vigil service each Saturday evening of Advent at a small Roman Catholic parish in Brooklyn. In their occasional discussions of philosophy and faith, she had given Stephen the impression that although she was lapsed from organized religion, Hope still held a true belief in a higher power. Indeed, he always saw her as a living example of the biblical maxim 'do unto others...'. And of course, she had understood and respected the beliefs he had come to hold about soul & spirit, and good & evil, based on his experiences and encounters with mystic realities.

In response to his curiosity on the first Saturday she shared her plans, Hope fell back on a familiar explanation. "It's a tradition that does my heart good to honor," she told him frankly. "It connects me to my family even when we're apart. With those who've passed on...and with past generations." He didn't miss the flicker of grief in her eyes and in the set of her mouth at her reference to those who had passed on, though soon enough, her honest smile replaced the sorrow. "Besides which, I love the music...the lights on the tree...the aroma of the incense they save for the most sacred moments. That sense of being one with a community of like-minded souls is vital to my experience of the Christmas season." Stephen found none of this surprising, for such was her nature, and part of the reason she had conquered his heart with no effort at all.

With a scant two weeks until Christmas Day, the Sanctum felt ripe with Hope's inimitable brand of holiday cheer. The sights, the scents, the flavors, and the very sounds that filled his rooms, became reminders of his own Christmases past, though Stephen refused to entertain those memories as he knew they'd only leave him morose.

Even the Sanctum kitchens had their own unique decorations, courtesy of some of Hope's grammar school-aged students; a couple dozen had given her handmade, crayon-colored Christmas cards and Tempera-painted winter scenes of snowmen and Santas, Angels and Christmas trees, or sledding and skating children, which found their way onto the walls and the refrigerators. She'd even fashioned a miniature tree as a tabletop centerpiece, festooned with a popcorn & cranberry garland and a tiny paper chain of red & green construction paper loops. In a surprising moment of clarity, Stephen remembered the several years when he still believed in Santa Claus and had helped his mother create the same sort of decorations for their tree, and how excited he'd been counting down the days until Christmas morn. Memories of a simple happiness that he'd quite forgotten had been his. Gazing at Hope's little tree brought a warmth to his chest he would like to share with her - but he stopped himself each time, knowing full well that if he let that recollection bubble forth, it might open the gates to other memories not as pleasant.

Most evenings now found Hope settled on the sofa wrapping presents or penning personal greetings in Christmas cards, while her favorite Christmas movies played on television, setting what she considered the ideal mood. Stephen eventually ended up joining her some evenings, and once he took his place beside her, she very willingly set aside her project in favor of cuddling on the couch with him. He ended up adopting the habit of fixing them hot chocolate, and in Hope's homey company, he discovered that he didn't even mind the movies he'd once found trite and too sentimental since his undergraduate days. Besides, they made Hope happy--and her happiness had become key to his own.

On the 18th, Stephen was called to Kamar-Taj for an emergency meeting of all the Masters of the Sanctums and those in charge of the various disciplines. A rift in Earth's reality had opened inside the Kibo caldera of Mount Kilimanjaro, and whatever entities had worked that magic, it appeared they were trying to wake the dormant volcano into eruption. He only had time enough to fire off a cursory text to Hope, warning her he might be away for several days--and advising her not to worry. Then he was off to Tanzania, along with Wong and a dozen other Masters to beat back the incursion and seal the rift.

'Twas a grim Stephen that returned to the New York Sanctum just after midnight on December 21st. Hope was sound asleep, and he didn't have the heart to awaken her. He was sporting a split lip and multiple abrasions to his face, neck, and hands, and though he had been charm treated in the Kamar-Taj Infirmary, he still had a slight but nagging cough from smoke inhalation.

Yet he had gotten off more lightly than most of those who had to battle the dragonlike creatures that seemed to be ideally suited for a volcanic environment; that breathed fire and fought ferociously to maintain their foothold. Two Masters had fallen to their flames, and three more had suffered severe enough burns to be placed in magic induced comas while Healers worked around the clock to hasten the regeneration of new, healthy skin. Wong, who had suffered a broken wrist, bore the same sort of wounds as Strange and the other Masters did. Stephen was heartsick over the lost lives and the pain of his brothers & sisters, and his body ached all over.

Casting the Mirror Dimension on the master bath, he bundled up his rent robes and buried them deep in the hamper so Hope wouldn't see how badly they were damaged and bloodstained. Stephen had already repaired Cloak, and it had flitted off upon their return to the Sanctum to see to its own ablutions. He soaked in the tub of hot water and Epsom salt for nearly 90 minutes, trying to put the pictures frozen in his mind of the battle and the wounded behind him. Fearing that sleep would still elude him once he finally went to bed.

In the wee hours before sunrise, he slipped carefully and quietly between the sheets, and by some lovely instinct, Hope turned to him. She stirred a bit when he placed her hand above his heart--for he always found that soothing--and after a few moments she whispered, "Missed you, magic man. Is everything alright?"

Stephen sighed in the darkness, unwilling to disturb her peace with the truth, and murmured 'yes', and then, 'I missed you too'. What he wanted most was to forget everthing for a little while, and when she rested her head on his shoulder, he nuzzled the tender haven of her hair, focusing on Hope's softness until he was able to drift off the sleep.

Stephen rarely indulged in the luxury of sleeping in, but this day it had been a necessity. Though he felt physically refreshed when he finally left his bedroom, his spirit was all too weary, and he remained disconsolate in his very bones. No matter the season, he would've felt this way following the outcome on Kilimanjaro--but somehow looking at Hope's cheery holiday trimmings made it even worse. When he found her in the kitchen baking cookies, the sweet sight of her, so incongruous with the miasma he was lost in, prompted him to issue her a fair but regretful warning.

She had just moved a batch of cookies onto a wire rack to cool, then turned to greet him--but her smile faltered the moment she saw the misery on his face. "It went badly, then." Stephen nodded, and then she was sliding her arms beneath his, holding him tight, murmuring against his neck. "I'm so sorry, Stephen. Do you...do you want to talk about it?"

He shook his head and simply held her close, grateful that she was his true and loving sanctuary. When they parted just a little, Stephen cleared his throat before speaking. "Hope...honey..." he began, cupping one hand against her cheek, "I really appreciate how patient you've been with me this past month. And I appreciate everything you've done to bring Christmas to our..." He paused when his voice cracked, taking a moment before continuing, "...to our home."

Empathetic as usual, Hope simply reached to cup his cheek in her hand, and he wished he could just let himself melt into the moment. "But I dunno if the miracle you're hoping for is gonna happen this year. The past few days were pretty rough and given that...and the ghosts of my Christmases past...well, I think it's best if you lower your expectations about the holiday. I don't want to disappoint you but...well...I'm not gonna be catching the Christmas spirit this year."

Hope sighed and turned her face enough to place a soft kiss on the base of his thumb. "It's alright, darling. I...I understand." She sighed and stood tall enough to kiss his mouth, then whispered against his lips, "Whatever you need, Stephen. However things go." She embraced him warmly, then moved enough so she could look him in the eyes. "I spent five Christmases wondering how things might have been if you had survived Thanos. I know what's most important to me now--so in the end, all I really want for Christmas is you."

Stephen managed a small but genuine smile. He had expected no less. Undaunted, Hope briskly changed the subject. "How about I fix you some lunch and you go unwind with some mindless television? I'll bring it right to you."

"Actually, there's a little something I want to take a look at in my study...if you don't mind too much..."

"Of course, of course," she answered gamely, then swatted him softly on his way, "Gourmet grilled cheese and tomato soup are the special today, and the only tip I require is a couple dozen kisses."

"You can add those to my tab, honey," Stephen chuckled, then headed down the hall to his study, grateful for the distraction which he knew awaited him on his desk. Getting lost for a little while in a recently discovered manuscript might be exactly what he needed to get through the day.

If you enjoyed this little fic so far, you can read more about how Stephen & Hope met and fell in love in my stories 'Friday in the Park with Stephen' (meet-cute, flirtation & fluff), and 14,000,604 (hurt/comfort, angst, passion/smut, lovers reunited against impossible odds).

In addition, I've written a couple of one-shots/prompt fills as part of their ongoing series, The Wizard and the Artist

tagging: @strangelock221b @mousedetective @icytrickster17 @ironstrange1991 @darsynia @ben-locked @hithertoundreamtof23 @aeterna-auroral-avenger @lorelei-lee @stewardofningishzida @thelostsmiles @mrs-cookie @paperclippedmime @groovyqueer @mckiwi @dragonqueen89 @strangeflashholmes221 @strangesunicornsparkle

[godesssiri]

Décor items I am constantly looking for in thrift stores:

I watch a lot of Youtubers who either thrift for a living or do a lot DIY décor content. They all have the most gorgeous homes, and their homes are 90% thrifted. I have a gorgeous home and it’s easier for me to point out the things in my home that I’ve actually bought new rather than try point out all the things I’ve thrifted. Sometimes friends or family will ask where I got something and I won’t bother to answer I’ll just look at them, and they'll realize duh – stupid question. I thrifted it, have you even met me?

I wanted to give you all a list of things I am ALWAYS looking for, things I will browse through in every thrift store and will pick up even if I don’t know exactly how I’m going to use it, I just know I can use it somewhere.

Frames. OMG Frames! Never buy them new! I have bought some of the ugliest framed crap you wouldn’t believe. But the frame was great. I bought my brother a portrait of a little girl that I’m pretty sure is haunted, but the frame was stunning antique oak that goes perfectly with his style and the creepy little girl could be easily removed - and it was so cheap, probably because the little girl was so creepy. If you want to frame something, go to the art section of the thrift store and ignore what’s in the frames, just look at the frames themselves. Chances are you will either find something that’s perfect as is or that just needs a bit of spray paint to make it perfect. I will always look through the frames even if I don’t have anything that needs framing. I have a stash of great frames on the highest shelf in my wardrobe, I don’t have use for them yet, but I know as soon as I want to frame something I can just go shop my stash and find something perfect

Plant pots. I will pick up new ones when I see a gorgeous one that’s in my price range but 90% of my plant pots are thrifted. The thing is you can put a plant in ANY vessel if you get creative. And you do find a lot of actual planters at thrift stores, but the good ones go quick, so you have to be ready to grab when you see a nice one. I have a huge collection of 80s post-modern pastel ceramic pots and guess what’s come into fashion in the last couple of years? 80s style post-modern pastel stuff. I’ve also found gorgeous Victorian jardinieres in thrift stores that have snuck past the people doing the pricing because they’re transferware and they don’t realize that transferware can be that old. You also come across piles of modern generic cover pots, you know the ones for the gift plants you see at the supermarket or florist or hardware store? People get gifted a plant in one of these generic pots, they either kill the plant or it thrives and needs to be re-potted, and they send the gift pot off to the thrift store. You can give these a makeover with a paint pen, or one of my favorite things to do with them is hot glue them to a glass candle holder with a wide stable base so you end up with a goblet look – it instantly both literally and figuratively elevates them.

Curios and oddities. I’m a collector of curios and oddities and let me tell you, if you are going to a specialist store that stuff is pricey. But if you scour thrift stores and pick up any weird thing you come across you can quickly build up a collection of the strange and unusual that will delight any weird loving freak. But even if you don’t love the things that edge on creepy like I do then still keep an eye out for things that are a bit quirky, a bit odd. Every home needs something that’s a bit left of normal.

Trays. I have a variety of trays that I have on various surfaces to corral small things, one on my dresser for lotions and potions, one beside my sink for the dishwash and scrub brush etc, one on the side table next to my couch to hold all the little bits I want to be able to access easily but they look messy scattered across the table. I can’t pass up a good tray, I bought a nice solid brass one earlier this week with no idea what I was going to do with it, I bought it home and it’s perfect for my coffee table to hold my coasters and a little posy vase of flowers and a pretty bowl to hold the jewellery and hair clips I will inevitably discard there.  A good tray can take a random assortment of practical items from stressful mess to pleasingly organized in seconds. They’re another thing that you constantly come across in thrift stores and also something that’s easy to do a thrift flip on if you can’t find one that fits your aesthetic.

Candle holders. There are soooooooooooo many candle holders of every description at the thrift store. Whatever your style you will find something. I actually rarely use them for candles, I like to buy ones meant for chunky candles and use them as plant stands to elevate small pots. Or get tall beautifully shaped candlesticks and display shells or crystal spheres or air plants on top. Some of them are so sculptural and beautiful they look great just on their own. They’re a fantastic display item whether you use them for their intended purpose or not. And if you like the Dark Academia aesthetic that is everywhere right now they are your best friend. I have never walked into a thrift store and not stumbled across a candle holder of some description – never.

Decorative storage. When I want to increase my storage by storing stuff out in the open in a place people will see, I look for vintage wooden boxes, cool old suitcases, pretty pottery canisters, interesting vintage baskets. When you wander around the thrift store looking for things you can put stuff in, a whole world of pretty possibilities opens up. Wooden boxes are my catnip, I have so many but will never pass one up if I like it. And if it’s an old cigar box with pretty graphics and peeling labels then my heart goes pitty-pat. Pretty canisters you can have on your bench means you have more space in your cupboards to hide the ugly practical stuff. I have a gorgeous old leather briefcase that holds important documents and small things I Do Not Want To Loose, I have ADHD and I'm more likely to remember where my birth certificate or great-grandad's pocket watch are if I keep it them in something I actually like looking at.

Glass display items. I love to display stuff beneath/behind glass because dust. Glass domes and glass display boxes and shadowbox frames are all either A) freaking expensive or B) hard to find or C) both. I’m always thrifting display items that I can rip out whatever is currently in there to display my own stuff. I’ve bought 6 Anniversary Clocks for their glass domes and brass bases; I usually get ones that the clock itself is plastic and it’s super easy to take it apart with a screwdriver. I’m also constantly buying the ugliest shit in shadow-box frames because it’s usually easy enough to open up the frame and get the ugly crap out – dear lord the crap they put in shadowboxes in the 90s. I will buy ugly souvenir stuff for their glass display boxes and will break the glue holding them closed and pull out the tourist tat. I have a couple of glass globes that have come with ugly artificial flowers in them and they’re usually cheap because the flowers are so ugly, but it’s easy enough to open them up and clean them out. Glass trinket boxes are another awesome display item, and there’s been a trend for them in recent years so they’re turning up more and more often, they’re not very practical for everyday storage because you can see everything in them and they look messy, but if you’re only using them to hold carefully arranged pretty things then they look amazing.

Bases, plinths, pedestals. I mentioned I buy pillar candle holders to elevate plant pots but basically, I’m always on the lookout for stuff I can put stuff on top of for display. I’ll buy any candle holder I can put something on top of, any wooden box that can be used to elevate stuff, cake stands don’t just have to be used for cake. Onyx ashtrays are perfect for lifting things a little and if that something has a slightly curved bottom, like a large seashell or a crystal geode, then sitting it in the depression of the ashtray stabilizes it, or if you need a flat surface flip the ashtray over and use the bottom as the top. If you’re lucky, you’ll come across bases actually meant for décor and they always make things look just that little bit classier. Displays always look better when you vary the heights of objects so I’m constantly looking for things to lift my pretties and it all looks so much more interesting when you use an assortment of vintage bases.

Vases. I have a vase problem, I know I have a vase problem, I do not care that I have a vase problem. I mean 16 on one shelf isn’t too many right? I promise it’s a huge shelf with lots of space for them. There are so many beautiful ones out there. So many that are gorgeously hand painted. So many interesting shapes and colors. So many that have been carefully looked after and passed down through generations but have gone to someone who it’s not to their tastes so they can now be your treasured antiques. So many that are modern, mass produced and worthless but ripe for a thrift flip to fit you exact style.

Books. Before anyone @s me about people who use books just as décor, there are good reasons to use some books purely as décor. I collect antique books, specifically natural history ones but I’ll consider any reference book with beautiful covers and illustrations. Most of these books are now inaccurate, I’ve got books that talk about extinct species in the present tense, Atlas’ that were produced between the 2 world wars that are not even in spitting distance of accurate anymore, archaeology books with laughable theories. Also, a lot of my books are fragile, there’s some I barely dare to open because pages are falling out and the binding is perished or the cover is loose, the safest place for them is sitting on a shelf just looking pretty. I also collect children’s classics purely out of nostalgia, I make it my mission to find the prettiest and/or oldest editions I can get my hands on. I doubt I’m going to sit down and re-read the Pollyanna books or the Little Women series but seeing them on my shelf takes me back to those pre-teen days devouring every classic I could get my hands on, mostly in paperback form because those books have been re-printed again and again. If a book is lovely but has no real value as a book anymore either because it’s inaccurate or too fragile, or if it’s had a million re-prints, why not have it as décor? Décor is meant to give a home a feeling and what inspires more feelings than books?

Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

[celestiall0tus]

Let's wrap up the paradise set with the butterfly, the only miraculous aside from the ladybug that has appeared in every au.

Oh shit, you right. Damn. Alright, Butterfly of Transformation, let's go.

Also noticing how the butterfly tends to stay in the Agreste family and extended family

Pimp Gabriel Agreste, aka Papillon was first in this all with Miraculous AU. His lesser power is known as Diminish, which infects a host and twists and distorts their darkest emotions, blowing them out of proportion. And of course his greater power is the Akumas.

Activation Phrases

Transformation: "Nooroo, Wings Rise"

Lesser Power: Diminish

Greater Power: Akuma

This bitch a piece of work with Colt Fathom (However he doesn't quite hold a candle to another certain butterfly) as Emperor in Salvation. Colt is among the Avatars and gets four powers, which are: mutation inducement, construct creation, mental manipulation, and transmutation. In his Avatar form, he gains the ability of reconfiguration and amalgamation.

Activation Phrases

Transformation: None/Innate

Power: None/Innate

I think of all the truly villainous butterflies, this bitch is the most twisted and broken. Nathalie Sancoeur as Papillon in Absolution. I'm back to make some alterations to this bitch's powers. So, her transmutation power is "downgraded (upgraded?)" to her passive power. Her main power will all into the vein of mental manipulation.

Activation Phrases

Transformation: "Nooroo, Wings Rise"

Power: Alter

Oh, look! The only Butterfly holder that isn't a villain. What are the odds? Anyway, Adrien Agreste is Iris in Separate Worlds. Their passive is being reworked. Their main power is transmutation.

Activation Phrases

Transformation: "Nooroo, Wings Rise"

Power: None/Innate

What butterfly listing here would be complete without the whole family? (Not counting Amelie rn). Emilie Agreste as Echidna in Paradise. Her power is transmutation as the other butterflies, but would almost fall in line with the type of butterfly that Nathalie is, just not as dark and broken.

Activation Phrases

Transformation: "Nooroo, Wings Rise"

Power: Mold

Can... can it be? Another good butterfly holder? What are the odds? Anyway, this is Nathalie from All That Remained as Faerie. Her power won't be what it is in the show, but the ability to transform objects and matter into other things. Basically transmutation.

Activation Phrases

Transformation: "Nooroo, Wings Rise"

Power: Alter

Another good butterfly? Holy shit! And, yes, this one does still count as an Agreste but a technicality. Marinette Dupain-Cheng in Siren's Song as Iridescent. Her power will be Transmutation, like all the other butterflies before her, but more in the vein of Salvation!Colt with being able to transform objects and people. Though I suppose the same for Absolution!Nathalie and Paradise!Emilie.

Activation Phrases

Transformation: "Nooroo, Wings Rise"

Power: Alter

Don't mind me cackling in the corner over big baddie Adrien as Adonis in Amaranthine. Like the rest of the butterflies, his power is transmutation. Much on par with Absolution!Papillon and Salvation!Colt.

Activation Phrases

Transformation: "Nooroo, Wings Rise"

Power: None/Innate

Zoe steals away the butterfly from the Agrestes in Court of Miracles. She is among the Lowborns and has a very limited range of power(s), which include:

Transmuation

Activation phrases: None/Innate

[misguidedasgardian]

The Lifeaters (II.1)

I. A Kerfuffle

MASTERLIST

Chapter Summary: You are back!

Pairings: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader (platonic)

Warnings: Cursing, magical objects, Mugglephobia, classism, in this “book” it comes in strong!, a physical altercation, a bit of violence, hehe

Wordcount: 2.8 k

Notes: The second book! it gets more interesting!

Only few things could make Draco Malfoy upset

He had a comfortable life, parents that adored him, and gave him anything he would want, he also had friends, more like… followers… more like and then, he had you

His very best friend.

Hence… the upset part

He didn’t got any news from you all year

You lied to him, according to himself, you didn't come back in August, you didn’t even write, but that wasn’t your fault, he sent many letters, but his eagle-owl came back with his letters unopened. Owls were not allowed to fly internationally, not all of them. 

Hence, he was upset, he couldn’t even care that his father had stopped by the broom shop and ask the owner how much the Nimbus 2000 cost, he didn’t care anymore if you weren’t with him

He did get some messages through though, through floo, and they were short because you were busy with your family, he only knew that today at certain hour you were going to Diagon Alley to buy your things, you just yesterday came back from France

He was frowning, he only managed to distract himself when his father took him to Borgin & Burkes, he thought he could buy you a present there. He knew just how much you liked mystery and curious magical objects

“Touch nothing, Draco”, warned his father as the bell over the door ranged announcing their presence

“I thought you were going to buy me a present”, he said, already bored 

“I said I would buy you a racing broom”, he said shortly

“What’s the good of that if I’m not in the house team?”

“You will be”, he assured him, “trials are normally the second week of classes Draco, don’t fret”

“So? Harry Potter already had a year playing Quidditch, he and his NImbus 2000, gifted to him by a teacher…only because he is famous!”

“‘You have told me this already”, he said with a silent warning on his eyes, “and I would remind you that it is not���prudent… to appear less than fond of Harry Potter, not when most of our kind regard him as the hero who made the Dark Lord disappear… ah, Mr Borgin”, he greeted an old gruffy man that showed up behind the counter 

“‘Mr Malfoy, what a pleasure to see you again”, even Draco could tell he was lying, “and young Master Malfoy too! How may I be of assistance?”

“I’m not buying today, Mr Borgin, I’m selling”, said Mr Malfoy, wanting to be done with the interaction already

“‘Selling?”, Mr Borgin’s was not smiling anymore

“You have heard, of course, that the Ministry is conducting more raids”, said Mr Malfoy, taking a roll of parchment from his inside pocket and unraveling it for Mr Borgin to read. “I have a few items at home that might embarrass me, if the Ministry were to call …”

“The Ministry wouldn’t presume to trouble you, sir, surely?”, asked the man, seemingly outraged

“I have not been visited yet. The name Malfoy still commands a certain respect, yet the Ministry grows ever more meddlesome. There are rumors about a new Muggle Protection Act… no doubt that flea-bitten, Muggle-loving fool Arthur Weasley is behind it… and as you see, certain of these poisons might make it appear…”

“‘I understand, sir, of course”, said Mr Borgin. “Let me see …”

“Can I have that?’ interrupted Draco, pointing at the withered hand on its cushion.

“Ah, the Hand of Glory!”, said Mr Borgin, abandoning Mr Malfoy’s list and scurrying over to Draco. “Insert a candle and it gives light only to the holder! Best friend of thieves and plunderers! Your son has fine taste, sir”.

“I hope my son will amount to more than a thief or a plunderer, Borgin”, said Mr Malfoy coldly and Mr Borgin said quickly, “No offense, sir, I only meant…”

“Though if his school marks don’t pick up…”, said Mr Malfoy, more coldly still, “that may indeed be all he is fit for”

“It’s not my fault,” retorted Draco. “The teachers all have favourites, Hermione Granger…”

“I would have thought you’d be ashamed that a girl from no wizard family beat you in every exam,” snapped Mr Malfoy. “Even (y/n) did better than you!”

“It’s the same all over,” said Mr Borgin, ”Wizard blood is counting for less everywhere”

“Not with me”, said Lucius

“No, sir, with me neither”, said Mr Borgin, with a deep bow.

“In that case, perhaps we can return to my list,” said Mr Malfoy shortly. “I am in something of a hurry, Borgin, I have important business elsewhere today”.

He looked around for a gift for you, eh found a beautiful opal necklace, that had a small sign that read “cursed, this item had taken the life of 18 muggles”, that did interested Draco

“Done,” said Mr Malfoy at the counter. “Come, Draco!”, the exchange was done and both abandoned the store.

But your absence wasn’t the only thing upsetting him, it was the secrecy and anger of his own father. Not directed to him, never him, but…

There have been many raids from the Ministry, and his father was scared they were going to dare to take items that were in his father’s possession, and more so, Lucius was angry, so angry, he started to look for a culprit.

And Draco had heard all about it, all summer.

He couldn’t find any gift for you but… he was relieved when his father finally pulled him out of that creepy store, and they went back to Diagon Alley, next stop was Flourish & Blotts, for his books. Lucius sent him ahead while he went to find something else, Draco left him, because maybe he was going to take himself back to that broom store and…

Draco smiled mischievously entering the bookstore

He growled visibly when he realized he was not the only one looking for this year’s books, everyone was there, and Gilderoy Lockheart was signing books, his own books, books Draco needed to purchase for school.

He found the guy to be a creep and a phony, he was even more angry when Potter himself showed up in the scene Gilderoy grabbed him and they started taking pictures together. He rolled his eyes as he went to the second floor of the store to grab the rest, and then he came back. 

Not even the chance to bother Potter was fun without you by his side, laughing at his jokes. 

He grabbed a book, saw something that you might like, ripped the page and kept it, yeah he shouldn't do that, whatever. 

He was certainly more interested when he heard the squeals of Granger herself, he looked down and spotted the lot of them, Potter, Granger, even the Weasleys, all of them. 

“This is for the daily prophet”, even a photographer was there. Draco pulled out his tongue in disgust when he saw the both of them, Gilderoy and Potter together 

“When young Harry here stepped into Flourish and Blotts today, he only wanted to buy my autobiography… he had no idea that he would shortly be getting much, much more than my book, Magical Me. He and his school fellows will, in fact, be getting the real, magical me. Yes, ladies and gentlemen, I have great pleasure and pride in announcing that, this September, I will be taking up the post of Defence Against the Dark Arts teacher at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry!”, Draco did not like this idea at all

But the small crowd there, waiting for him to sign their books, clapped and cheered 

Potter released himself from the small mob and walked towards the exit

“Bet you loved that, didn’t you, Potter?”, he couldn’t help it, he had to say something, “Famous Harry Potter,” said Malfoy. “Can’t even go into a bookshop without making the front page”

“Leave him alone”, muttered the smaller of the Weasleys, Draco looked at her with a smirk

“Potter, you’ve got yourself a girlfriend!” drawled Malfoy. Son the other two members of their little trio showed their faces

“Oh, it’s you, bet you’re surprised to see Harry here, eh?”, he mocked, but Draco was in a mood for a good kerfuffle 

“Not as surprised as I am to see you in a shop, Weasley”, he retorted. “I suppose your parents will go hungry for a month to pay for that lot”, Ron was ready to fight too, walking towards him with that look on his face that meant trouble, but Granger and Potter grabbed onto him

“Draco!”, he turned quickly, to see you entering the store with a big smile on his face, he only smirked

“There you are!”, he said quickly, but there was no time for hugs. You looked behind him and saw the troublesome trio with a little girl that you could only assume was a Weasley, and then right behind them, the Weasley’s father

“Ron!”, he called, “what are you doing? It’s mad in here, let’s go outside”, his eyes traveled to Draco, and then you

“Well, well, well, Arthur Weasley”, right behind you was Lucius himself, he placed himself right behind you, placing one of his hands in Draco’s shoulders, and the other one in yours

“Lucius”, said Mr Weasley coldly

“Busy time at the Ministry, I hear”, said uncle Lucius, you didn't understand what was happening. “All those raids ... I hope they’re paying you overtime?”  

He grabbed a book from inside the cauldron the little girl was holding 

“But judging by the looks of this, obviously not”, he said. “What’s the use of being a disgrace to the name of wizards if they don’t even pay you well for it?’”, you didn’t understand the hostility, but Draco seemed to do so, as he was smirking

“We have a very different idea of what disgraces the name of wizards, Malfoy”, the other man snapped.

“Clearly”, said Mr Malfoy, you didn't know what happened there, since he was behind you you couldn’t know where he was looking at, “The company you keep, Weasley... and I thought your family could sink no lower”

A loud bang distracted you when a cauldron dropped to the floor and then Mr Weasley was lounging for Uncle Lucius, he grabbed him and pushed him against the bookshelf 

“oh Merlin! un cafouillage!”, you murmured

“A what?”, asked Draco

“A Kerfuffle!”, you pointed out outloud, grabbing into Draco, you had never seen uncle Lucius so angry and less of it in a physical fight, but he pushed back Mr Weasley, they grabbed each other and started to bump into shelves, dropping books left and right

“Get him, Dad!”, cheered Fred and George Weasley

The assistant of the store came begging for them to stop, but they wouldn’t listen

“Break it up, gents, break it up!”, he begged

But Hagrid showed up out of nowhere, grabbing both men and separating them easily.

Mr Weasley had a cut lip and uncle Lucius had been hit in the eye by an Encyclopedia of Toadstools. He was still holding that old transfiguration book. He almost threw it at her

“Here, girl take your book, it’s the best your father can give you”, that sounded mean, he released himself from the hold Hagrid had in him, grabbed you and Draco and pushed you out of the bookshop

“Where were you?”, asked Draco as you walked down Diagon Alley

“Sorry, my aunt, she... needed more time to work on a skin potion”, you said softly, “I’m sorry for not coming back”, he twisted his mouth, thinking to prolong the whining, but he thought better of it.

“Extend our gratitude for the invitation to your grandfather”, muttered uncle Lucius, “we will make it next time”

“Yes uncle Lucius”, you whispered with a soft smile

“It was a boring summer”, Draco whispered

“I know, for me it was too a bit”, you answered back, you had no friends in france, and no family of your age

Uncle Lucius was rattled, you could see it, after going to other placed he brought you back to Flourish & Blotts to purchase a large collection of books from Gilderoy Lockheart

You knew who he was, and not because he was a famous wizard, but because… he dated your aunt a couple of years ago, it did not end well, so you were nervous

You liked the sound of the engine of the train, you loved train rides, it was a comfortable sound as Draco spoke what they had done all summer

“Did you even practice?”, he asked

“Yes I did! in my old broom though, we went to see a couple of games, in one, the french minister of magic took a bludger in the head, it was pretty funny, he had to pretend it didn’t hurt because he didn’t want the game to get canceled”, you giggled, “he is a Quiberon fan just like me”, you said cheerfully

“I don’t understand your obsession with that stupid game”, mocked Mathhew, you didn’t know what to say, “it’s stupid, besides, Potter if the star of it”

“Well, last year, despite Potter, we won the cup”, you said dismissively

“It will be fun to knock him off his broom”, mocked Malfoy, “I didn't see him on the platform, maybe he is not coming!”

“Whatever, I don’t want to dance to that halfblood’s pace”, snapped Matthew, that sounded a bit aggressive.

“Half Blood?”, you asked

“Potter’s mother was a mudblood”, he said contemptuously

“So?”, you asked

“That makes him a half-blood”, said Draco, and you looked alternatively between them, what did that have to do with anything?

“And he was raised by muggles”

Yes you knew what a halfblood was but still, when that mattered for anything? Well your family did prefer the company of pure-bloods, but in reality,  maybe it was a coincidence that… all their friends were pure-bloods… or… was it?

You started doubting.

The ride now was a bit uncomfortable, you wanted to talk to Draco, just the two of you, like before, but matthew seemed to be attached at the hip to him, you noticed Lucius buying two sets of books, you thought the other one was for him

But why? But you thought it was rude to ask, at least out loud

This year, since you were not first years, you had to ride a carriage that was pulled by something invisible, so you were going to get there faster. They were right, you didn’t see Potter on the platform, and you didn't see him now either, well… you couldn’t be that lucky, right?

It all looked the same, as no time had passed at all, everything was just like you remembered it, and you were so excited for this new year, it was going to be even better!

You sat on the Slytherin table, wearing your ceremonial hats again. Dumbledore of course gave you a small speech, then he made you stand up and sing the Hogwarts song, which you didn't know

To your horror, Gilderoy Lockheart was the new professor against the dark arts, this was going to be a long semester. Draco didn’t like it either, but Pansy, Milicent, Tracy and Daphne seemed like they loved it.

Like you said, you weren’t that lucky. The very next morning, everyone was talking about how Potter and Weasley arrived last night in a flying car that crashed against the Whomping Willow in the castle’s grounds, and they were sitting at the Gryffindor table.

The first mail arrived at that moment, you thought it was a bit rushed, given it was the first day, but you received a letter from your aunt, like always, wishing you for the best and she even sent you a sweater that you forgot, to warm you up for the fall and coming winter.

You almost jumped out of your seat when you heard a loud voice screaming, Draco was laughing and you noticed that Weasley had gotten a howler from who you could only guess was his mother.

Her voice was still ringing in your ear through the first period.

You had a heavy schedule this year, all classes of last year, but no more flying lessons. You were trading that one for Quidditch, you hoped. Next year were the trials and you couldn’t wait any longer. 

Even though it had only been almost three months, and even though Draco looked the same, you couldn’t help ut felt guilty, something had happened in the summer, he was different, he sounded different, and his hatred for Potter increased if that was even possible

You wished you could have been here, but you had to go back to France, your family had called you back, what happened in the summer? You knew uncle lucius was angry because something happened at work

With you he acted the same, but… 

You had a bad feeling about it 

[madame-wilsonn]

Midnights: Chapter 13

MASTERLIST — MIDNIGHTS MASTERLIST

Summary: Tommy finds himself in his office in the middle of the night, again. He survived, he came back from the grave and life might not be such a burden anymore.

Warnings: mentions of death, angst and some fluff (you’ve read that write)

Word count: 2,031 words

The clock in the corner of the room rang three sharp strokes, Tommy didn’t look up. He had sat down in his chair at a quarter to midnight, listening to the quiet movements of the night.

A few years ago, he would have used his insomnia to work and prepare speeches and plot expansions of the business. He didn’t have any work to do anymore. But the insomnia didn’t leave.

Almost every night, he would give up the idea of more than a few hours of restless sleep and go to his office. He would sit in his chair, hands rubbing his tired eyes and ruffling his hair. He found himself being tortured with thoughts and ruminations but he could never pinpoint what troubled him. Sometimes, he thought his body had just gotten accustomed to the nauseous rush of worry immobilizing him.

Sometime around four, his muscles began to ache after being still for so long. Tommy reached for a cigarette. He grabbed one in the cigarette holder, placed it between his lips and dampened the tip like he had done countless times. The small ritual seemed to appease him, it felt natural, familiar.

One glance at his desk, his eyes fell on the small portraits and family pictures. He didn’t have as many anymore. He took most of them before Arrow House was destroyed but he used to have immense paintings and pictures in every room. He only had a few left. One with Grace, in New York. One with Lizzie, Charlie and Ruby. One of Charlie and Ruby together. Then a few individual portraits. It was all he had left of his old life. A few proofs that once, he had a family.

He tried to mend his relationship with Charlie and Lizzie. It was a long and difficult process, especially with his son.

The same night after he learnt about Mosley’s twisted plan, he found Lizzie and told her everything, like he promised. She believed him— he wasn’t so good at lying anymore— but it didn’t change much. She lived in the house he bought for her and Charlie and he got to see them, often. Tommy tried to build a relationship with his son, spend weekends with him, go horse riding and attend his violin recitals. It was still hard for Charlie but he seemed to forgive his father the more they spent time together.

Tommy missed Ruby the most. He tried to honor her memory. He tried to live. But the wound in his chest had never healed, it never would.

Her birthday was coming up, he dreaded that time of the year. She used to love her birthday. She would wake up and skip down the stairs, waiting for everyone to sing at the breakfast table. She loved her birthday because it meant having Tommy home, even just for dinner. That’s all she wanted. Whenever he would ask her what gifts she desired, she would hug him and whisper “I want you to help me blow my candles, daddy.”

So he intended to respect her wishes. He took Lizzie and Charlie to Charlie’s yard—Ruby’s favorite place— and they blew her candles, together. He could feel Ruby with them, watching over her mum and brother. They tried to enjoy the day because his little girl wouldn’t want them to be sad. She was a joyful child, always beaming. Her happiness was contagious, her bubbly laugh enough to make anyone smile— even Tommy.

She would have been eleven in November. He tried to imagine what she would be like today. Would her hair still be as long? How tall would she be? Would she still ask him to build her snowmen?

Questions that would stay without answers.

Often, Tommy sat in the office and he felt a gap, he felt cold. Ruby used to sneak in in the middle of the night when he worked. She would quietly tiptoe to the study downstairs and sit on his lap. She didn’t speak, she knew her daddy was busy working but she enjoyed his presence and allowed him to enjoy hers. Tommy missed those nights. He missed the weight of carrying her.

Even the office wasn’t the same. It was smaller, just like the rest of the house. There was no point in buying a manor. It would have been too big, too empty. Here, he felt somewhat at ease. He felt home.

“Tommy?”

He looked up from the pictures, his gaze falling on you, standing by the door.

“What’s going on, love?”

Tommy shook his head as you made your way towards him. “Nothing.” Your arms wrapped around his bare shoulders, you gently dropped a kiss behind his ear. “Can’t sleep?”

He was a troubled man, your husband. It was rare for him to stay in bed, you couldn’t even remember a time he actually slept through the night. But he didn’t like waking you up, no matter how many times you asked. You hated the idea of him struggling with nightmares and those awful voices alone.

Truth was, Tommy felt guilty. He used to be a burden to those around him, he didn’t want to be a burden to you. He tried to be quiet at night, to come back to bed before you could realize he was gone but you always seemed to know. And he hated seeing your tired eyes in the morning after you had to calm him down because of some nightmare.

He wouldn’t lie and say he didn’t enjoy your presence. Even when you didn’t wake up, he would sometimes lie next to you and watch you breathe. There was a calmness about you. Something in the way your hands fit in his, how your eyes seemed to gleam at the sight of him that made his demons cower with shame.

Tommy’s hand wrapped around your wrist, your lips trailed down his neck, resting on his shoulder. You felt him shiver under your feather-like touch and a soft smile appeared on your lips. Your face nestled in the crook of his neck, you stood behind him, silently. Tommy reveled in your gentle embrace, cherishing your warm breath fanning over his skin. He just wanted to stay there, let your touch repair the broken pieces.

“You should go to bed, love,” he finally whispered. It wasn’t fair to you to let you fix him. You didn’t have to wake up for him, you shouldn’t have to. “I’m alright,” Tommy added, hoping it would soothe your worry.

“Do you want me to leave you alone?”

Alone. He knew alone all too well. He had been alone. Alone for so long. And loneliness…Loneliness was cold. Loneliness was painful.

Tommy didn’t want to feel the lonely sting he had been so accustomed to. Not when he had tasted the warmth, a golden feeling seeping through the cracks and somehow making him more than just broken pieces. He didn’t want to be alone anymore. Not when he could be with you.

“I’ll go to bed, then,” you misinterpreted his long silence for a sign to leave. You kissed his cheek and added: “You can come whenever you want, alright?”

But as your hand left his warm skin, Tommy grabbed your fingers and squeezed them lightly. He kept quiet. He didn’t really know what to say. Maybe he did know, he just had no idea how to say the words. So he sat there, fiddling with his fingers and twisting his jaw nervously. You quickly picked on his quirk. He always did it whenever something was bothering him, when the thoughts in his mind became louder than the world around.

Leaning on the edge of the desk, you took his shaky hand, holding it tightly and bringing it to your lips.

“It’s okay, Tom,” you brushed the hair falling on his face, fingers trailing over his cheek. Tommy stared at you and for a moment, wondered if this was real, if you were real or if his demons were yet again torturing him with deceitful illusions. He observed your face, trying to find a clue, any indication that he was dreaming and that soon, you would disappear. That soon, he would be alone. Again.

“You’re too good to me, love,” he finally mumbled, reaching for you. The words had left his mouth without him realizing. But it was true. You were too good. He often looked at you and couldn’t help but ruminate how somebody as gentle as you could have been sent to him? For all his deeds and all his sins, he should be punished. Not given some other chance. Not after all the chances he had wasted.

“I’m not too good to you, Tommy. I’m the good that you deserve,” your voice was so soft, it almost made him cry. It was a funny thing. You handled him with such care, such kindness he could feel his lips wobble and his eyes burn with tears. Tommy didn’t understand why your love made him feel that way, why the simplest gesture of affection made him want to get on his knees and weep. And he knew that even if it happened, you would embrace him and kiss him and tell him you did love him and repeat it until your voice got sore.

“And anyone trying to make you believe the opposite is wrong” you put a finger under his chin, tilting his face up and added with a sly smirk “because I am always right.”

Tommy felt his chest rumble, a soft chuckle escaping his lips. He didn’t recognize his own laugh anymore but one time, you had told him it was your favorite sound and Tommy swore he would try and laugh more. He quickly realized he never had to try.

Sighing, Tommy remembered the question you had asked when you joined him. “I don’t know what’s going on, Y/N.” he looked at you but all he could find in your gaze was comfort. “I can’t sleep and I don’t know why.”

You leaned in, your lips softly resting on his forehead— kissing the troubles away. “You’ve always allowed people to depend on you and never allowed yourself to depend on anybody.”

Sometimes—most of the time—your heart broke for him. You had never admitted it out loud before, it would only make him feel terrible but it did. You didn’t know him during all these years, you weren’t there for him like he needed. He told you stories from his past, bits and pieces whispered in the dead of the night—secrets from your lover that he entrusted you with, that you protected and kept close to your heart. But all these stories, all these events made you realize how alone he had been all this time. And it made you ache. He was far from being perfect, you knew his faults and recognized his flaws but there was so much to him: so much kindness, so much love. So much light that even decades of pain and suffering couldn’t even put out.

As the sun rose on the quiet land, gently painting your faces in golden hues, you brought your forehead to his. Your hands brushed against his neck, caressing the back of his head. You whispered an ultimate promise, embodiment of your love and devotion, for all these years spent alone. “You always carried the weight of the world on your shoulders but you have me now, Tom. We can carry the weight together.”

Tommy stared at you, bewildered. He had never realized how much he craved to hear those words until you spoke them. And strangely, Tommy believed you. He never thought such simple words whispered to him could have that effect but there was something…something about how you cradled his face and how earnest you seemed that made him believe you. That made him feel safe.

His arms wrapped around your waist, he brought you close to him. Tommy held onto you, embracing your form as tightly as he could.

All these years, all this time he thought only death would free him, only death would bring him peace. But he was wrong. It was you.

You were his armistice.

Taglist: @aaskoct @cillmequick @dandelionprints @edmundo-diaz @forgottenpeakywriter @huntingingoodwill​ @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake​ @jokim @julkaamazing​ @lili12356 @look-at-the-soul​ @lyarr24​ @midnightmagpiemama​ @milkshakelol @notyour-valentine​ @rangerelik​ @salvatoremeanssavior @thesoldiersminute​ @emotionalcadaver @zablife​ @shelbydelrey​ @peakypolly 

[three-bunnies-in-a-trenchcoat]

They said visions were supposed to be an extension of yourself, as simple to use as breathing, so why was the first thing Link had done was burn?

For the alternate prompt, inferno

Link had thought he knew fire. 

It was warm, sitting around a fire with family or cooking a meal. It was destruction, a single stray spark or unattended candle a sure way to lose your house, and your life along with it. 

He was wrong. 

Fire was death. Fire was burning trees, the dying screams of your brothers in arms as they roasted alive, smoke strangling your lungs. 

“Mask!” He yelled, pulling his scarf aside briefly. “Sailor!”

The only sound was the wind and the crackle of the fire, the snap of wood as the fire burned down the forest. 

“Sai–” He broke off, doubling over coughing. After an excruciatingly long thirty seconds, he straightened up, continuing his search. 

The red gem was cool in his hand, even as everything else burned, more proof that this fire was his fault. 

Cocky, arrogant– all the things he thought he had been able to overcome, still there, written out in the ashes for everyone to see.

They said visions were supposed to be an extension of yourself, as simple to use as breathing, so why was the first thing Link had done was burn?

“Captain!” A faint call echoed through the forest.

“Sailor!” He ran towards the voice. A crash rang through the trees, and he pushed himself harder, trying to reach them faster.  

“Captain!” It was more frantic this time, but louder. 

He stumbled into a clearing, eyes darting around frantically. 

“Over here.” The sailor said, voice growing weaker. 

He turned towards it. The sailor stood on a short rock, Mask leaning against him heavily. A tree had crashed down, blocking them from moving, and the bushes were ablaze behind them, flames licking at the edges of the sailor’s coat. 

“Stay still.” He said, and tucked the vision out of sight in his scarf. Everyone in the army would know soon enough that he was the one to cause the inferno, but if pretending he hadn’t was enough to let him rescue his brothers, he would do it. “I’ll get you out of here.”

“How?” The sailor said, an uncharacteristic fear in his voice. “The tree’s blocking us, we can’t move.”

He glanced down at his hands. The leather would provide a bit of protection, and the small amount of resistance afforded to vision holders would have to work. He took a deep breath, and braced his hands against the tree, struggling to move it. 

“What are you doing?!” The sailor shouted in panic. “You’ll—”

“I’ll be fine.” He said with gritted teeth. 

The tree shifted slowly, ash crumbling away under his hands. Inch by inch, it moved, until at last the way was clear, and they could move from the rock. 

“Are you okay?” He asked, pulling towards him to take the weight from the sailor. 

“I should be asking you that, ya blubbering idiot!” The sailor grabbed his hands. Confusion slowly took over his face as he saw nothing but reddened skin and small blisters. “This isn’t–”

“I said I would be fine.” He knelt down, inspecting Mask, but he only tilted his head in Link’s direction, eyes half closed.

“He was burned pretty bad.” The sailor said quietly. “He pushed me out of the way when the tree fell and got hit with one of the branches.”

Link exhaled, slow and heavy. He fumbled with his tunic with one hand, tearing a long strip from the bottom, and tossed it to the sailor. “Hold that to your face.” 

He pulled his scarf off next, and his vision tumbled to the ground, glowing brightly in the firelight. 

“Is that–” The sailor gaped. 

“It’s not important.” He said, tying his scarf around Mask’s face. He grabbed the vision, tempted to just leave it there, and picked Mask up. His face fell against his shoulder, eyes closing completely. “Let’s go.”

--------

"The healer said he'll be fine in a few days." The sailor said as Link entered the tent. 

"That's good." He said, taking a seat at his side. "Have you slept yet?"

"...No." He admitted, the glow of his Anemo vision visible through tightly clenched fingers. "You got a vision today, didn't you?"

"Yes." He said. It would do no good to lie about it; he had already heard rumors about it spreading through the camp. He closed his eyes, preparing for the sailor's anger. "I did."

"It wasn't your fault."

His eyes snapped open. "What?"

"The first time I used my vision, I caused a storm and nearly sunk the ship." He tucked his vision back into the spot on his belt. "Pyro is a lot more destructive. I get it."

"I killed people, Sailor, that doesn't bother you?"

"Her name was Ilene. A piece of the mast broke and knocked her into the water."

"...Oh."

"We couldn't find her body." His voice broke. "I took her things back to her wife and told her it was my fault she was dead."

He wiped a tear away roughly. "I get it. We were in a battle, and fire is already hard to control. It wasn't your fault."

"That wasn't your fault." Link said. "The wind is an unpredictable thing. You couldn't have known what would happen."

"So the fire wasn't your fault, either?" He glared, but it didn't have as much impact as he probably would've liked. "Right? Or are ya going to be a dumbass again?"

"It's not nearly as simple as that, kid." 

A hand tugged on his sleeve, and he looked down. 

"It seems simple enough to me." Mask said.

"You're awake." Link said, bone deep relief settling in. "Thank the goddesses."

"Just because I have a Dendro vision doesn't mean I burn easily."

"Are you doing okay? Do you need anything?"

"Stop blaming yourself. It wasn't your fault."

"Mask… Look at yourself." His voice cracked. "Your burns are going to scar, and it's my fault."

"I think it's the goddesses' fault for giving you a vision in an already volatile environment."

"It doesn't matter who's fault it is, you should hate me for hurting you!" He snapped.

"...It sounds like you want us to blame you so it's easier to hate yourself." The sailor said quietly.

He jerked back in surprise. "That's– that's not–"

It wasn't true, right? The sailor was just a kid, he couldn't know– except the same thing had happened to him. He had hurt people with his vision, just like Link had. He would know better than anyone else. 

"We don't hate ya." The sailor said. "No one does."

"They've been talking about me all day, sailor."

"Did ya actually listen?" He accused. "All of 'em are talking about how you were fuckin' screaming in pain trying to stop the fire."

"I started the fire, of course I was going to put it out!" He could still feel the pain of trying to pull it all in, take it back. It had made him so tired; it was a miracle he had been able to stay on his feet until they got back to the camp.

"Then stop blaming yourself." He said, crossing his arms. "Ya did the best you could to fix an accident."

“Did I? If I’d done the best I could, we wouldn’t be having this conversation at all because I would have gotten it under control.”

“Idiot.” The sailor said. “We shouldn’t be havin’ this conversation because you shouldn’t be blaming yourself.”

"I hear burn scars are all the rage nowadays anyway." Mask said. "If anything, you did me a favor."

"Three Goddesses, kid." He said, sighing. “Neither of you can actually believe that.”

“I do.” The sailor said, and Mask nodded. “And I’m gonna keep saying it until it gets through that thick fuckin’ skull of yours.”

“Why can’t you just–” His voice cracked, and he hated it, how he was completely embarrassing himself. “–leave it alone?”

The sailor rested a hand on his shoulder. “Because you don’t have to deal with this alone.”

He reached out, pulling him into a tight hug, burying his face in his hair. “You should be so angry…”

“We’re not.” 

Mask reached over, squeezing his hand. He glanced at him, and he nodded.

His throat closed up, and he nodded back, hot tears falling down his cheeks.

He could… he could try to accept that.

@febuwhump @gemglyph

[valandhirwriter]

Shadows of Spring then. OR anything Lux I don't know yet 😂❤️ (LUUUUUUX)

LOL, you hit an Erland story actually. ;) So i honestly went looking for a Lux piece you do not know. Which is not easy, because you know most of them. I take one where I am fairly sure, you didn't see it, or only the opening paragraphs. It is one of my crazier ones, so forgive me for that one. It was this one, or the time-travel one.

Chapter 1 – Enfant perdu

The hooting of a grey owl drew Lux out of his slumber, and the rolling hoot, almost like laughter rang through the early spring night air. He blinked against the pale moonlight filtering through the tall window illuminating the room. 

Tall Window? His mind startled from the haze of sleep. His quarters in the bastion of storms had the privilege of a window - a small slit in the vaulted wall letting some vague light filter through. It was a privilege that only officers had, and Lux as a captain only made the cut because he was Captain of the Royal Impera. Everyone else had quarters deep in the underground vaults of the bastion. He blinked again. Definitely his quarters - his armour on the rack, the three glass holders for prayer candles, the clear glass discoloured from flame and ash, remnants of his past, and the shelf on the wall, stacked with books, this was his room - it did not change the straight walls and the high double lancet window with the complex tracery in the upper arches. The type of window was found in parts of the old palace wings, certainly not in the barracks. He pushed himself up on one arm, ready to swing his legs out of the bed, when he noticed, that he was not alone, someone’s arm was draped over his side, and his legs were partially entangled with someone else's.

He almost jumped up but forced himself to go still. If this was a dream, then a very real one, and if it was real… it couldn’t be. He had returned to his quarters in the bastion a few hours ago, after an angry and scathing dressing down from his Majesty, who had been deeply annoyed about the safety measures for the journey to Rowan. He had wished Lux to the other end of time and gotten truly vexed when Lux had dug in, he did not compromise where his Emperor’s safety was concerned, even if it meant risking the man’s ire. He still might see punishment for insolence - not the first in his career either. He carefully extricated his legs from the tangle, careful to not wake the person who was with him and then turned around. His hand brushed over the blanket. He frowned. His quarters were comfortable, but he most certainly used no sheets like these… what was going on here? Had he been drunk and landed in a guest suite? No, his things were here. 

He sat up, and looked at the person lying between him and the wall, and he had to hastily balance himself to not fall out of the bed inelegantly. For tightly snuck in between him and the wall, buried in two comfortable blankets was the familiar figure of a very asleep and also very naked Emhyr var Emreis, resting peacefully on the thick bedroll Lux preferred in lieu of cushions. 

Lux froze in place. This had to be a dream - a very vivid dream for sure. But a dream. Maybe brought on by the recent trouble? Had he been exhausted enough to allow his mind to slip to thoughts otherwise forbidden? Panic rose inside him, or had he been drugged with something? A magic delusion? Truth drug his mind supplied. They gave you the test of loyalty again after you were too recalcitrant. He sighed. He had been through that test by the court mages a number of times, they had trouble reading him correctly and thus had resolved to test his loyalty to the Emperor using a concoction of powerful drugs. The problem was - the drugs worked on one’s feelings towards the subject. He had passed those tests always with flying colours, but they buried at things that should better not come up to the surface. 

He sighed, time to get out of here. He carefully moved off the bed, moving across the room noiselessly. The room was too big to be his quarters, even as it contained his familiar things. The floor felt cool under his naked feet, and there was a soft brush of air from the window, pebbling against his skin. He stepped to the small table holding the candles, lifting one up to smell it - prayer candles were usually scented. But instead of the familiar scent of sandalwood, the soft scent of blue lotus and moon orchids tickled his nose. He closed his eyes letting the gentle scent brush against his senses. The mages had really messed it up, or the mage administering the test had expensive tastes. Moon orchid candles were pricey on the best of days, not to mention that most makers reserved their moon orchid oils for making more marketable things than prayer candles. 

He checked over his shoulder, the Emperor was still asleep, nothing was moving. Definitely a test. The mages could not fully see what happened inside the test, or they would have known about Lux years ago, but sometimes they tried to force it. He picked up the long pine chip, lit it at the dying fire in the open grate - since when did a Captain’s quarters warrant a fireplace of one’s own? - and when a small flame licked up the chip he ignited the prayer candle, a small flame rising. 

While the light of the sun is beyond doubt or debate, the flame of a single candle is of greater danger, as every power needs a proper focus. The words long taught to him whispered in his mind. He put the pine chip aside after extinguishing it and took a deep breath to centre himself. Exciting this test was usually a matter of control of one’s own mind. He placed both hands in fists crossed on his chest, and directed his mind inward… to his core…

“Nightmare?” A warm voice asked from behind.

The Emperor had woken. Lux turned around, suddenly aware that he was in a state of full undress, and very well visible in the moonlight. Not to mention the candle casting a cone of light right on him. 

Emhyr had propped himself up on one arm, warm brown eyes shimmering, reflecting the light of the candle. “Kaer Sion again?” he asked softly.

Lux almost took a step backwards, he could feel the colour drain from his face. How in the world did the Emperor know about this? No one - no one - knew what had happened in those dark days in that mountain fortress. He had managed to escape, and he had never told anyone of what had transpired there. 

His mien must have confirmed it, for Emhyr extended a hand towards him. “Come back to bed, there are better remedies for nightmares, than prayers,” 

Sun above, what kind of drug cocktails had the mages given him? Hesitantly Lux stepped back and touched Emhyr’s fingers, feeling them curl around his hand. “It was just a dream,” he said, trying to sound normal. 

Emhyr pulled him down, so he came to sit on the bed again. “I know those ‘just a dreams’ too well,” he said, pulling Lux down onto the bed and feathering soft kisses along Lux’s jaw. “The kind of dreams, that has you pray warrants distraction,” he interspaced the words with more kisses, his lips trailing over Lux’s throat, and Lux threw back his head, to allow for that wonderfully warm touch. A part of him was panicking, if the mages saw that he’d be in for it. Their cocktail must be off by a lot this time. 

“Sometimes a little focus helps,” he replied, biting away a Sire at the last moment. If this was just his own mind, he might as well behave normally. His fingers found Emhyr’s dark hair, slowly running through the silky locks. Lux couldn’t help it, the sudden closeness was intoxicating much as it was forbidden. 

Emhyr interrupted his ministrations and looked up. “I prefer you without that focus, without the walls you build up, the man you hide beneath,” he said his hands gently but very insistently roaming Lux’s naked body. 

The entire surreality of this hit Lux full force again. He was in bed with the Emperor, not that he would mind, but it was not likely to ever happen. And yet his mind and whatever drugs the mages had given him, had conjured this up and he did not manage to break the dream’s hold. He might as well…

“Walls protect, Emhyr,” he said, throwing all nerves to the wind, wrapping both arms around the other man, to kiss him in return. His hands wandered up Emhyr’s back, to the shoulder blades and he could feel the slender body strain into his touch. 

Emhyr groaned, his hands running over the entire length of Lux’s body possessively. “Just a reason to crumble those walls again,” he said, before capturing Lux’s lips in a very deep kiss.

Lux’s closed his eyes, just letting the sensations wash over him, it was like a dream - a very forbidden dream - but his will to resist the dream’s lure was waning rapidly. He responded to Emhyr’s kiss slowly, not that it seemed to perturb him and let his hands slowly discover the lean body above him. When their kiss broke, Emhyr smiled at him, a hungry, brilliant smile. “Never let it be said, I could resist a wall in need of breaking down…”

***

When Lux woke again, he honestly expected to find himself tied to a testing chair in the bowels of the dungeons, with a good chance to throw up the rest of the potion. Instead, he found himself in bed, warmly snuggled up with a certain Emperor, and the first light filtered through the high window. Warm lips traced his scalp, Emhyr was already awake. Lux blinked up at him and was greeted with a smile, he could barely imagine Emhyr was capable of. “You slept like a marmot,” he said his eyes sparkling. 

There was a closeness and intimacy in the words that seared itself directly into Lux’s heart. Even if his Emperor, like others before him, chose to sate his baser urges with one of his soldiers, physical affection would have been the most Lux might have hoped for. This… this was different. He tilted his head to feather a kiss on Emhyr’s lips. “You were right, the best remedy for restless dreams.” 

He had hit it right, his Emhyr, this Emhyr they both liked to win and to be right because the slight smirk said told you so without words. Lux cast a glance at the window, registering the sunlight and sat up. “I better get moving or the General is going to have kittens…”

Emhyr chuckled. “One day, Lux, one day you will tell me what happened in that hole in the ground that convinced you Aeron is capable of that feature.” 

“One day,” Lux echoed, he had no clue how such mornings were supposed to go, the usual cases gracing the Emperor’s bed were escorted out by morning at the latest if they had lasted all night. An Emperor in the quarters of one of his officers… there was no protocol in the world to rule that. 

Emhyr misread his glance. “I know - it is this day - having to listen to Voorhis sniffling widow for hours will not be good. But it must be handled before we depart for Rowan.” He cast a glance at him. “Keep the helmet off today, my hunter, I want her to remember who gutted that treacherous curr for all the capital to see.”

He had killed Prince Voorhis? Publicly? Lux did not doubt he’d be capable of it, he had learned to kill and not ask questions when he had gone to the hills and joined those fighting the usurper, but… this sounded like a spectacle. He could not ask. “I best get myself scrubbed,” he said, having slipped into breeches and a light tunic. He’d have to find out where in the palace he was first, and then work out the rest. 

His luck persisted, because his quarters were obviously situated near the hidden stairwell leading down into the bastion, and he could easily get to the communal baths from there. It was early enough for the baths to be not overcrowded and give him time to wash thoroughly. He was almost done when Bran, his Lieutenant, occupied the tub beside him and made a face. “Curd soap, Lux? Do you want to bring a bad mood down on all of us, one day before we ride - one day before he too has to be in the saddle all day? Don’t be cruel, please?”

Lux looked at his old friend, wondering what he was thinking. Were they friends? Or did he despise him for sleeping with the Emperor? What were they here? “Bran?” He asked, not quite sure what he meant. Everyone used curd soap down here, it was provided by the army in large quantities to keep the soldiers clean. Scented soaps were forbidden in military bathing houses - if everyone used them the stench would be enormous and every blind assassin would find them by the nose alone. 

To his surprise Bran got out of the water, padded across the tiled floor and grabbed something from a basket and threw it at Lux, it was a bar of soap smelling of Winneburg orange blossoms and a small flask of oil from the same source. “You alright?” He asked with a hint of worry in his voice. “You know how he hates the ‘soldier stench’, so what made you revert to…”

“Just not thinking,” Lux replied, realising he’d have to play it by ear. “I was tired and went by…” habit he wanted to say, but he saw Bran’s arched eyebrow.

“Take a boy out of the hills, but you’ll never get the hills out of the boy,” Bran teased, before falling serious and letting himself drop into the water again. “Do us all the favour and avoid needless upheavals will you?” he said, “The whole Voorhis case will have him in a mood up and down the walls and the ride for Rowan…”

“So no carriage?” Lux asked, before diving under to clean his hair. When he came up Bran arched an eyebrow. 

“Lux, please - there is no need to revert to that facade again. I have known since… well since ever I should think. I know he will travel horseback, much as he dislikes it, and use the chance to hit the communities along the road with surprise visitations. So keeping his mood somewhere bearable will be your prime mission objective from here on out. I guess the General isn’t saying it any more, because he can assume you know.”

Lux got out of the water, drying himself off, and swiftly got dressed again. He made a bit more haste, so he’d be at the guardroom before Bran, which gave him a chance to hastily flip through the guard log and get up to speed on the daily operations of the Royal Impera. He noticed it was run as a double company, each led by a Lieutenant, and the shift patterns were odd. So he’d have to find out the reason for it. Caio de Varderaan, the golden Peregrine, was another surprise. He led the secondary company, coming off the night shift, and he, like Bran, seemed to be an old comrade of Lux. “Word has it, that the Emperor intents to visit the extended var Emreis lines, once he has dealt with that Roweni Duke in Dun Fionn,” he said, “now that we are back here, he intents to crush all the traitors, much like he crushed the north….” he stopped and his eyes fell to Lux’s belt. “Gods above, why did you dig that blade out? Where’s your gear?”

Lux frowned, he wore a regular Impera belt with a familiar blade by his side, it was the same sword he used at home. A simple appearing blade, that had never failed him in many years. Before he could react, Caio had turned around. “Sergeant! Hailey - run over to the armourer and ask why the Captain’s gear isn’t back here. And make him work faster if he forgot it.”

Lux leaned against the windowsill covering his surprise. There had been no other weapon’s belt on the armour rack in his quarters. He was sure of that. He had grabbed the gear he had seen there, it was the usual gear Impera Officers used. Hailey - how in the world had he ended up in Impera? - came running back. “Trouble, Sir,” he said “The armourer says the gear vanished, armor and weapons. He had it last night and now it is gone. He swears it was right there.”

“Could be a matter of theft,” Lux said, “run to the master-at-arms and ask, maybe one of the helpers dropped it off with him when delivering the repaired gear this morning. Otherwise, we’ll make do.” 

“Why in the world would someone steal your armour?” Caio arched an eyebrow. “It couldn’t be sold anywhere, without getting the person in trouble and no one can use it obviously.”

“Assassin,” Lux replied, “get a man of the same stature, put him into the armour and you’ll walk through the gates before someone wonders.”

“Now I know again, why you got this post,” Bran quibbed, “you are paranoid. Someone pretending to be you, wouldn’t last long in here, and if he is anywhere close, no five minutes. And I mean it.”

Not very encouraging words, Lux thought, though he kept any thought carefully wiped off his mien. “Let’s go over the day until Hailey gets back,” he said, and the next half hour was spent on planning by letting them talk, and listening Lux managed to fill in a lot of blanks that would allow him to function, at least in his role for now. 

Hailey came running back with two helpers. “Weapons master says only your battle gear is stored with him, I had him break that out, to give us time to find out what happened at the armourer’s.”

It was an idea that made sense, or at least some sense. Again Lux played along, just enough to not give himself away. “Warn the other guards that someone might try to pretend to be me - just in case an assassin gets smart. And have the armourer check the basement - if one of his helpers decided to reorganize his stocks again…”

The words elicited a groan from Bran. “Then we might find your armour in three years behind a pile of steel bars. I’ll have someone on it.”

Alone in the narrow side room, Lux took the time to change, and examine the armour brought up. It made sense to split field gear and palace gear, as Impera’s Armours for court duty tended to be just a tad more ornate. But this chaos felt ridiculous. He worked fast the layer of leather first, they fit perfectly, and then the armour pieces. At first sight, they were typical Impera - black armour, the left pauldron engraved with the winding silver band indicating his rank, but when he assembled them he realised they were anything but. Two intricate layers of chain and steel were perfectly moulded to his body, allowing for flexibility while providing maximum protection. Some changes were subtle, like the much finer structure of the armour gloves, to allow the hands more movement range. 

Lux almost dropped the bracer he was holding, realising it was not a one-piece lower arm bracer, but layered from several leaf-shaped plates. It wasn’t possible. This armour only made sense if he had ever let anyone know of his training. Jarcai demanded that style of flexibility. And the entire point of his military career had been to not let anyone know where his training had come from. Jarcai was not meant for war, it was meant to master mind and body and transcend the boundaries of the flesh. And like many others, Lux had used it to fight back against the Usurper. Like often before, those who had done so, would join the armies pretending to be good, but normal fighters, dispelling any fears that a sect had the potential to raise an army that could wipe regular forces off the map. He weighed the bracer in his hand - he usually used the excuse that he was trained in sword dancing, which had Vattier search up and down the garden districts for the remnant of an ancient knightly order. His fingers traced over the black steel, perfectly shaped to fit his body, to fit his movements. He could not have told the secret? Could he have told the truth to the Emperor? Lux had luckily never been in that spot. The Emperor did not care where the lethal skills came from, as long as it was used in his service. 

Again a cold question rose inside him. Was this a test? Were the mages digging for a secret? No, it was unlikely. Then what was happening to him? Was he dreaming? Or was this a dream of another life? Lux had read about such experiences, but he knew he had never shown any talent for dreaming, be it prophetic, or transcendental. Worse even - he had no time to consider all variables. He was seemingly trapped within another version of his life, and one where he must have made very different choices. He sighed and finished donning the armour. Once it was assembled it fit like a second skin. He put the helm on the armour rack and walked out. He could only see what the day would bring.