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#i left one of the feathers long bc it looked a bit off otherwise
qhideduo · 1 year
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There's a way we can still be friends!
You could join me.
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robininthelabyrinth · 3 years
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NMJ is the only one that knows bc he’s the only one that NHS truly trusts, he’s the only one who knows why NHS focuses so much in painting and art, NHS doesn’t know why or how but with a little bit of spiritual energy he’s able to bring what he paints in paper to the real world and with that the Nie sect has the beasts of legends under their command
on ao3
“How about you draw a flower?” Nie Mingjue said without much conviction. It was hard to have conviction when you knew it was pointless.
“No!” Nie Huaisang shouted, unsurprisingly, because toddlers always shouted. They seemed to have a great deal of feelings and sound for such small frames. “Taotie!”
Nie Mingjue grimaced. “No, no, not Taotie,” he said quickly. Never Taotie, not again. “How about the Baihu? Nice fuzzy tiger?”
“No!”
“Fenghuang? You like birds.”
Nie Huaisang considered it. “I like birds,” he agreed.
Nie Mingjue heaved a sigh of relief. “Me, too,” he said enthusiastically. “I love birds.”
He had never had especially strong feelings about birds, but he was willing to develop some.
“Okay,” Nie Huaisang said, and patted his thigh comfortingly. “I’ll draw you a bird, da-ge.”
“…thanks,” Nie Mingjue said.
When Nie Huaisang was done, he proudly presented Nie Mingjue with the results of his work.
Nie Mingjue put the baby phoenix in the new aviary he’d secretly had constructed behind his father’s back, thinking to himself that the high-grade construction materials he’d insisted on were totally worth losing his allowance for the next year.
The phoenix chick - it looked like a plucked chicken with maybe three feathers total - weakly coughed smoke.
Because of course it did.
Sometimes Nie Mingjue wished that he could just tell someone about Nie Huaisang’s unusual gift – it was a pretty big burden to bear, and he really wasn’t sure he was old enough for this type of responsibility – but no one else deserved to know. If they didn’t have the good taste to like Nie Huaisang when he was no one and nobody, pointless and useless, they didn’t deserve the benefits of knowing him now that he could do stuff.
Even if it was weird stuff. 
Stuff like his ability to summoning the things he drew into existence. 
Even things that might not really exist.
Besides, the thought of Nie Huaisang getting wrapped up into war and politics when he was still so young –
No, better to just store away what he made and hope he grew out of it.
And no more Taoties.
-
“Lan Zhan said his uncle shows people his artwork,” Nie Huaisang said, sitting on Nie Mingjue’s table in the family study. “Why don’t you ever show my artwork?”
“You do art?” their father asked absently, most of his attention on the report he was reading.
“Huaisang does great calligraphy,” Nie Mingjue interjected very quickly. “You’ve seen it – it’s beautiful. And his poems are very well crafted, too.”
“But Lan Zhan said –”
Nie Mingjue mentally resigned himself to not being friends with Lan Xichen any longer, no matter how well they’d gotten along, on the basis that the other boy would probably take it personally when Nie Mingjue murdered his brother.
“He also said stuff about rules,” he said. “Hundreds and hundreds of rules. Do you want to listen to all of those, too?”
“No,” Nie Huaisang said sulkily, five years old and bitter with it. “But…”
“How about we show Lan Wangji your aviary?” Nie Mingjue coaxed. “Go ask him if he’d like to see it. I bet he’s never seen anything like that – and you can ask him what type of animal he likes best, too!”
Nie Huaisang’s eyes went wide at the thought and he dashed off.
“You spoil him far too much,” their father commented. “An aviary – you talk about it more than he does, and you’re always getting birds to fill it up for him, too. Why are you so devoted to him learning to like birds?”
“Better than him liking fierce beasts,” Nie Mingjue said, omitting to mention exactly where he obtained the birds that filled the aviary. “Or corpses.”
“If he liked fierce beasts, perhaps he’d be more martially inclined.”
No, we would be, Nie Mingjue thought. He’d gotten a lot of spare practice with Baxia trying to fight corpses that had no business being there during the period in which Nie Huaisang had gotten temporarily interested in the things in his father’s stories – and that was before Nie Huaisang had learned about yao.
“I don’t want him growing up morbid, that’s all,” he said.
“You’re his brother, not his nursemaid,” their father said, a little exasperated. “Nor are you his mother. Why are you fussing over him so?”
Nie Mingjue huffed and shook his head. “How goes recruitment for the border?” he asked instead, and listened to his father tell him about how people barely a year or two older than him were being sent to risk death in the name of sect honor.
Not Nie Huaisang, he promised himself. Not yet.
He’d tell his father when Nie Huaisang was old enough to handle the consequences.
-
“Huaisang, didi,” Nie Mingjue said, and tried to smile, even though it pained him. “Can you do me a favor? A really, really big favor?”
Nie Huaisang sniffed, clutching at his arms and shaking. “What, da-ge?”
“You remember Jiwei? A-die’s saber? Can you draw that for me, please?”
It only made it worse.
-
“Da-ge?”
“Yes, Huaisang?” Nie Mingjue asked, scowling at the map. It didn’t get any better the longer he looked at it, but maybe if he kept glaring he could cow it into submission.
“Don’t you want me to help?”
Nie Mingjue looked up at where Nie Huaisang was wringing his hands by the door. “Help? With what?”
Nie Huaisang rolled his eyes at him, like it was Nie Mingjue being dense instead of him having started a conversation in the middle. “Uh, with border defense?”
“Why would I ask you to help with that?” Nie Mingjue asked blankly, then realized how his words could be misconstrued. “Not that I wouldn’t ask you to help, of course, but you’ve never really liked battlefield strategy, and anyway you are only twelve –”
“Da-ge!” Nie Huaisang whined. “I meant drawing!”
“…as in maps?”
Nie Huaisang’s glare could light fires.
Nie Mingjue coughed and put aside his work to focus on his brother. “Huaisang, why do you think I would use your drawings in planning out a possible battle?”
“Because they’re useful?” Nie Huaisang said, crossing his arms. “I can make things appear, da-ge, just by drawing them. Not sure if you’ve noticed, but that’s not something that normal people can do.”
“I know,” Nie Mingjue said. “It’s not. But just because it’s not normal doesn’t mean it’s not a wonderful ability, Huaisang.”
Nie Huaisang looked a little bit appeased.
“But just because it’s wonderful doesn’t mean I’m going to abuse your ability,” Nie Mingjue continued. “You should be playing, not working, and if anyone tells you otherwise, you tell me and I’ll straighten them out.”
Nie Huaisang came up and hugged him. “So it’s not that you’re not ashamed of me being weird and useless?”
“I think we’ve already established that an ability like yours is far from useless. And I don’t care how weird you are, principles are principles: you’re too young to be used for battle. Sorry, Huaisang; my hands are tied.”
Nie Huaisang laughed at him and left, looking much happier.
-
“So what would you like?” Nie Huaisang asked, eyes sparkling. “Me and my brush are at the ready, here to help!”
Nie Mingjue rubbed his forehead. “If you’re sure…”
“Da-ge! I’m seventeen – you were already sect leader for two years by my age. And it’s not like I’m going out there on the front lines or anything; I’m just going to draw some stuff for you.”
“You say ‘just’,” he grumbled. “It does drain your qi, you know. That’s why you took such a long time to form a golden core…”
“Yes, but I did get there eventually, didn’t I? And anyway, it’s fine, I’ll do it instead of my usual landscapes. What would you like? A dragon to devour our enemies? The white tiger, nipping at their heels? A taotie –”
“No Taotie.”
“You’re so weird about that,” Nie Huaisang complained, rolling his eyes again. “Fine. Then what?”
“Sabers,” Nie Mingjue said, giving in. “Standard steel, not spiritual. Horses, feed, saddles. Say, how are you at drawing arrows?”
“Da-ge,” Nie Huaisang said. “I can draw you the beasts of legend, and you want me to draw you arrows?”
“Yes. As many as you can bring yourself to create, really; everyone’s always short on arrows. More rice would be good, too –”
“This wasn’t exactly what I was expecting when I volunteered to help,” Nie Huaisang grumbled.
“Are you going to do it for me or not?” Nie Mingjue asked, unimpressed. “You asked me to use you, not to give you an art project.”
His brother heaved a sigh. “Yes, yes, I will. Can you explain to me why this is your choice, at least?”
Nie Mingjue ruffled his brother’s hair. “Huaisang, when you draw something, it comes to life. Fully to life, as a separate and independent creature of its own – if you draw a dragon, who’s to say that the dragon will choose to fight the Wen sect, instead of turning on us? It wouldn’t be much help if we had to run out, sabers drawn, to deal with whatever it was, only to be exhausted before the Wen sect even arrived.”
“…oh.”
“When we’ve made some progress in the field, I promise to let you help build fortifications,” Nie Mingjue said. “You can start thinking of really nasty traps –”
“Da-ge?”
“Yes?”
“…is that why you hate the idea of me drawing Taotie so much?”
Nie Mingjue coughed.
“Da-ge!”
“Don’t worry about it. It was always really good saber practice…”
-
“And if anyone tries anything against you at the camp, you draw something really mean, okay?” Nie Mingjue said, pressing paper and a brush into his brother’s hand in addition to the ones he’d hidden away in his luggage - there was a chance that might be confiscated upon his arrival. “I don’t care what it is.”
“I know, I know –”
“Promise me!”
“I will!” Nie Huaisang exclaimed. “I promise already!”
“Not just if they’re aggressive. Even if things just look suspicious –”
“Suspicious? Like what?”
“If they take you somewhere secluded,” Nie Mingjue said, face drawn with worry. “Somewhere where it’d take us a long time to find your bodies. I don’t care if you put other people in danger from your creation, okay? Don’t make me have to find your corpse.”
Nie Huaisang was silent for a moment. “I understand,” he finally said. “I promise.”
-
“I’m never drawing anything legendary ever again,” Nie Huaisang sniffed into Nie Mingjue’s collar. “That Xuanwu was awful. It tried to eat all of us!”
-
“Do you want me to help with the logistics, Sect Leader Nie?” Meng Yao asked.
“You already help with the logistics,” Nie Mingjue said, not really paying attention. If it was serious, Meng Yao would bring it to his attention – he was a truly remarkable aide-de-camp. “You already help with everything.”
“I appreciate Sect Leader Nie’s confidence in me,” Meng Yao said, smiling a little. “But no, I meant – with the imports.”
“Imports?”
“Every week we receive new shipments of goods – food, weapons, defenses – from Qinghe, and we don’t send any money back. Surely such expenditures are putting a strain on the Nie treasury..?”
“Oh, don’t worry about that,” Nie Mingjue said. “Huaisang is handling it. It’s good for him to have responsibility.”
Meng Yao looked a little skeptical, but in his defense, he’d met Nie Huaisang.
“Really,” Nie Mingjue assured him. “He’s not going to hurt our budget – it’ll be fine. They’ve come steadily every week so far, haven’t they?”
“If Sect Leader Nie is content, then so am I,” Meng Yao said, but he was pouting a little, perhaps at the perceived lack of trust. He did so love to be helpful.
“You know I trust you with my life,” Nie Mingjue told him. “But this is something that Huaisang is, for once, best placed to handle. Don’t worry about it.”
It wasn’t really his secret to share, after all. Maybe when the war was done.
-
Nie Mingjue was on his back in the throne room of the Fire Palace, staring up at the man who murdered his father and who was about to murder him, too, when he heard the sound.
A high-pitched squeal, unlike anything else he’d ever heard – a little like a pig, a little like a wolf, a little like the long slow grate of metal against metal. It burned on the ear, a vile sound on the verge of being physically painful.
“What is that?” Wen Ruohan asked, frowning. He was standing above Nie Mingjue, his foot crushing down on his chest; Baxia was out of reach, knocked away, but at least no longer in the traitor Meng Yao’s hands. “Meng Yao…?”
“I - I’m not sure, Sect Leader Wen,” Meng Yao said, looking equally confused.
Nie Mingjue laughed.
They both looked at him.
He grinned up at them, blood in his teeth.
“What?” he said. “Never heard a Taotie before?”
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sugako · 3 years
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sweetness
osamu xf!baker!reader sum: your unrequited crush on the man you sell to is weighing heavily on you until one little party later it isn’t an issue cw: 18+ minors dni, a lil fluff, a lil angst (reader is sad bc they don't think samu feels the same), mentions of drinking/alcohol/party (no one is drunk during), kinda confessions, first time with each other, nipple play, oral (receiving) wc: 3.5k a/n: hi !! uhh i have had this is drafts for months bc i struggled to post it and idk why,, it's def a little longer than usual and little more plot-heavy(ish) but i hope you all enjoy pussy king samu <3
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It felt as though you were admiring him from a distance even when he was standing right beside you.
The afternoon that the owner of Onigiri Miya had called up your small bakery to partner with his business you had been overjoyed. Honestly, you were still happy, it was just tinged by something deeper or different now. You were certainly still happy to sell your goods through the business, but your feelings had really gotten the better of you.
The day, actually the moment you met Osamu you told yourself to get over the petty crush you had developed within minutes of meeting him. His big, tall frame made you feel as though he could wrap his arms around you and everything would be okay. His pretty, steely eyes and soft features relaxed you, made you feel at home.
A week later you were groaning into your pillow when he texted a simple, polite compliment about your baked goods. Desperately, you hoped that the fuzzy feeling would melt away any day now.
Every single time you had to see him again and again to drop off your bi-weekly delivery, the feelings didn’t fade. If anything they grew stronger. The quick, comfortable banter you shared made your chest fill with molten gold that always seemed to harden into a tough little peach pit, strangling the words from your throat whenever you got back into your car.
A month later you were crying to yourself at 2 AM about how you couldn’t get over him even though you hadn’t even been close to a relationship. It was impossible. How were you supposed to get closure from someone you were merely business partners with.
You cursed the way your heart sped up when you got a new text from him. Over and over again you had to remind yourself that it was purely business.
Onigiri Miya (Osamu): Hi, do you want to swing by tomorrow? Lunch is on me
Fingers swiped over the keyboard, groaning as you asked what you should bring for the restock, not realizing it had been two weeks already.
Onigiri Miya (Osamu): Everything is selling fast, but I won’t need anything for a bit, just wanted to chat not about business
Without hesitation you agreed. Even if you were sure he didn’t feel the same, it wouldn’t hurt to keep up a personal relationship with a business. The fact that he had texted you deep into the night without prompt didn’t make it into your busy mind.
Those two little texts were how you found yourself taking a deep breath outside the Onigiri Miya a little after the lunch rush. You stepped into the nearly empty building, immediately greeted by Osamu’s soft, low voice.
“I have to run to the back, but I put a plate for you out.” He calls, disappearing just as the door closes behind you.
It’s painful to admit how your heart swells at the gesture. Your favorite onigiri of his is neatly plated in front of a corner seat at the bar. The two other people on the opposite side of the store are quietly chatting, paying no mind while you settle into your seat. Before you can take a bite he’s bustling back in.
“Sorry ‘bout that, got a call.” He says, leaning over the counter in front of you. The way his broad chest is squished by his shoulders.
“No worries.” You say just before biting into the food. He snatches one of the rice balls from your plate, but your mouth is too full and you’re too grateful to protest. “So,” you begin after you swallow, “what did you want to talk about?”
You can’t tell whether the air is thick with awkward tension or if it’s just you.
“I mean, obviously not business.” As you speak, a strangled, little chuckled forces its way out of the back of your throat, but you take another bite of food before it gets out of hand.
He’s silent for a moment, slowly chewing his food. Maybe savoring it or maybe thinking, you can’t quite tell which.
“Can you take nights off from the bakery? I remember you saying ya do a lot of baking and prepping at night.” His expression is impossible to read and you want to tell him that this is, at least for you, business talk, but you hold back and simply answer the question.
“Well, yeah, if I needed to. Uh, why?” You catch how his shoulders tense and lower, his eyes shifting across the windows in the front. Unfortunately, his own anxiety does very little to quell any of your own.
“My brother is having a party and I’m… obligated to go, but I won’t know many people there, they’ll all be his teammates, so I was wondering if you would like to go with me? If you don’t have a… I mean, if you don’t have any plans.” His expression remains still, but there’s a small flush in his cheeks that you catch on immediately. Something in your heart softens with hope.
“You’re twin volleyball brother?” You ask, biting back a smile. “Also, you’ll have to tell me what time the party is and then I’ll let you know if I have plans, but I’m probably free.”
The flush deepens as he recognizes his mistake and slowly blinks, shaking his head. “Yes, ‘Tsumu, the volleyball brother. And the party is next Friday. Around nine.”
Within the limited time you’d spent with him he’d told you about his brother and his old friends. Confidence growing, but not quite steady, you uneasily treaded into your next words.
“Yeah, I’m not working next Friday actually, so that sounds good. Should I text you for the address or…?”
“Meet me here, I can take you. Best to take the train, but it’ll be easier if we go together.”
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Deep in the center of the city, standing close enough to smell the soft fragrance of cologne, you still weren’t sure how easily you had ended up here at the house party filled with strangers hosted by your customer’s pro athlete brother. It was a little much to think about if you took too much pause. Before you could slip into your own brain too much your cheek smushed into the thick muscle of Osamu’s solid back that had suddenly stopped moving, and as you sputtered out an apology the door swung open without him even knocking.
“Hey! Did you really not a-” The blonde mirror image of the man standing directly in front of you eats whatever words are about to spill out of his mouth when he notices you peeking out from beside Osamu. Realizing how ridiculously childish you must look tucked away behind him, you clear your throat and step out so you’re by his side instead.
“Hi, I’m y/n.” You say politely, extending a hand for him to shake. Atsumu’s eyes flit between you and his brother, not bothering to hide a smirk.
“Oh, I know.” He finally says when he takes your hand. Out of sheer embarrassment or maybe anxiety, you feel pricks of heat chase out to your fingertips. The sensation is only compounded by Osamu’s feather-light touch that grazes the small of your back as he tries to lead you past his brother.
“Really,” you start, with a sly little smile, “he’s told me about you’re very impressive-”
“Okay.” Osamu says a little too sharply. He’s glad you’re at ease, but less glad that you’ve immediately taken to lightly teasing him with his brother. “Let’s head in.” The warm breath of his whisper jolts through you and you find yourself nodding, letting his touch lead you.
Just as the door is closing behind you and the excruciating reverb of the music seeps into your ears, you barely catch what Atsumu mumbles before he slips into the crowd of people. “Maybe you’ll finally show her how much ya like her.”
Osamu doesn’t respond, and for a second you think maybe he didn’t hear him, but the way his fingers dig into your back tells you otherwise. You simply pretend that you heard nothing, pointing to the drink dispensers lined up on the kitchen counter across the room. After a quick drink of the sweet, burning mystery drink and after Atsumu started to keep his distance - too busy hounding his one teammate with the dark curls whose name you couldn’t quite remember - things went smoothly.
Time passed quickly, helped on by the dozens of new people you were introduced to. The small talk and repetitive questions had you mentally winded, but Osamu’s constant touch whether on your elbow or back or shoulder grounded you. Instead of feeling your heart race as it usually did when he was near, you only felt calm.
It all came crashing down sometime deep into the night when most of the guests had headed home and those left over passed out, scattered everywhere about the house. Well, everywhere aside from the neat guest bedroom tucked away toward the back that Osamu had pulled you back to when the last man (who had drunkenly tried teaching you how to say ‘volleyball’ in Portuguese) had finally passed out.
The single drink you had gulped down hours ago was long gone from your system, but even without it you still found it easy to speak with him, even as his arms inconspicuously wrapped around your torso and brought you down to lie beside him on the bed. Staring up at the ceiling for a moment while the two of you remained in short silence, a thought came to your head, another thing you want to tell him or ask him. You’re not sure which because in the next moment, when you whip your head to face him, he does the same.
If you had been any closer your faces would’ve smashed together. Any farther away and you wouldn’t be brushing lips. Just as soon as the touch begins, it ends with you scrambling away, stopped from falling off the bed by his strong arm wrapping around and pulling you back to his chest. The silence thickens with every second that neither of you speak, but he thankfully breaks it within the minute.
The words fumble around the front of your mouth like your mouth is numb. “I’m so sorry that-!”
“Well, that wasn’t really a proper kiss.” He says plainly, a smile barely etching its way onto the corner of his lips.
“N-no, it was not.” You whisper. It doesn’t quite feel real when he kisses you for real, and for a second you’re worried you’ve deluded yourself. You sigh into his firm touch, finally releasing the tension in your chest and letting your own lightly trembling hands trace up the space between your chests to settle against his. His body is softer than you had thought it would feel, somehow so much more comforting and homey than you could have imagined.
After an endless moment, his mouth strains against yours as he forces himself to pull away with a little huff. Your eyes find his, bright and hopeful, and still a little bit surprised. Between all your personal longing and resignation that he didn’t feel the same, you hadn’t noticed the way he smiled more when you were nearby, the little blush that dusted his cheeks when you complimented his cooking that first time, and so much more.
“Wanted to do that for a long time.” He sighs, leaning his forehead against yours and letting his heavy eyes close. Hiding your grin in his chest, you nod, wrapping your arms around him and snuggling in closer. When your knee glides against his thigh in an attempt to get more comfortable and flush to him, he clears his throat. “We should get changed if we’re going to sleep here. I have extra clothes in the dresser.”
“Okay.” You nod slightly, not wanting to move just yet. He seems to be with you because, despite his own words, he remains exactly in place with his grip just as tight as ever around your waist. “...Samu?” You finally ask, pulling back far enough to look up at him.
“I wanna kiss you again.”
“Okay,” you repeat, “then kiss me again.” The crooked, giddy smile you’re giving him seems to tense him up even more.
He inhales deeply through his nose, eyes darkening as they flicker across the planes of your face. “I wanna, but I don’t want to push this unless you feel the same.”
If your tired heart could vibrate any harder it would probably be bursting out of your chest.
“Well, I feel that we should kiss again,” you press a peck to his cheek hoping it’ll steady your next vulnerable words, “because I’ve thought about you a lot, and I really like this.” You emphasize your words by glancing down at the negative space between your bodies and running your hand up the built expanse of his shoulders.
Humming, he cradles the back of your head, gracefully moving to straddle you and ghost his lips over yours. “In that case, tell me when to stop.” The hot breathy fan of air from his whisper barely hits your cheeks before he’s pressing a deep kiss against your lips.
You slot together like perfect puzzle pieces, limbs finding the just the right spots to fit into. Mouths move desperately, passionately and without thinking your fingers start dancing under the hem of his shirt, brushing against the hot skin beneath. With a tempered groan, he uncouples his lips from yours, kissing along your jaw and quickly moving to trace down your neck. The kitten nips and licks against your collarbone send electricity through your bones, forcing you to flex into him, hips awkwardly jutting forward for something more.
“You… you, ah, are so perfect.” You pant, eyes blinking wide open when the calloused tips of his fingers roughly trail under your shirt, up your sides, stopping just short of your chest to flip your shirt up.
Groaning so quietly you barely hear him, he buries himself between your breasts and sighs against your skin. “Yer even more beautiful up close and without all this,” he pauses for the briefest moment to undo your bra and lift it over your head with the shirt, “extra stuff on.”
Scoffing out a short giggle, you relax back, watching how his eyes drink you in as though they’ve been starved. “By extra stuff you mea-!” The quip is promptly cut off by the feeling of his mouth latching around one breast, the other being tended to by his opposite hand. Not a moment later he pulls away, smiling as you let out a pitchy whine.
“Yer pretty mouthy when yer comfortable, huh?” He mumbles, lips ghosting over your nipple while the one in his hand continues to be teased.
“N-no,” you rush to disagree. Judging by the eye roll he gives you, he doesn’t seem to believe you, but he doesn’t say anything more, simply bringing his attention back to your chest.
The way his suckles tiny, bright purple marks into your skin sends heat pooling into your stomach, hips noticeably grinding up against him now. As the seconds drag on, he doesn’t seem interested in anything other than your tits, enamored with the way they feel in his hand and mouth. It’s almost too much, and you feel your stomach tightening with every moment the teasing continues.
“Samu,” you whine softly, “samu, please, can’t s’too much, really need…” The words are jumbled and garbled. You can’t quite sort your brain to come up with anything coherent, distracted by the wet pooling in your underwear and the weight of his body crowding over yours.
“Sensitive tits?” He coos with a sharp glint in his eyes, gears obviously moving in his head for the future. “That’s okay,” he continues while pressing a soft kiss to each of your breasts, “What do you really need?”
“Need you to touch me.”
For a second, his mouth opens but he doesn’t speak. You fear he’s going to tease you, make you explain in lewd detail how bad you need him and where you want him to touch you, but he doesn’t. He simply nods, truthfully too caught up in the intoxicating feeling of your body and too impatient to feel you for the first time to drag this out.
“Good girl, I’m gonna take these off.” He starts, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your pants and underwear to take them off together. Without hesitation, his eyes travel between your legs. “Such a pretty, little cunt.” He hums already squeezing in between your thighs. Obviously distracted, he peppers little kissed up the sensitive skin on the inside of your thighs, still caught up staring at your soaking mess.
“Samu, please…” You whine. While you know he isn’t purposefully teasing, well you don’t know but you don’t think at least, it’s just as frustrating. Your knees lock around his thick shoulders, pulling him closer to your heat.
“Okay, okay, pretty girl.” He grumbles, lapping right at the crook of your thigh and hip. There’s a split second of tense silence wherein he carefully spread your lips admiring the glisten of your slick under the dim light of the lamp. Your entire body is tense with anticipation, legs shaking as they struggled to spread around his wide frame.
And just like that quiet moment is over - he laps you up so desperately and greedily you’re twitching under his grasp, clawing at the wrinkled bed sheets below you for anything to ground you. He doesn’t stop when he shifts your legs over his shoulders and wraps his hands around the bottom of your tummy to keep your jostling hips in place.
When you finally look back down to grab his hand, keeping a vice grip around his fingers, you also glance down for the first time. His dark, hazy eyes meet yours and you completely relax at last.
The feeling doesn’t last long, not when he pushes his tongue into your tight, unprepared hole, slurping all he can get and pushing in as far as he can go. Osamu’s eyes roll to the back of his head at the sensation, your cum dribbling down his chin and coating up to his nose that keeps brushing against your throbbing clit.
With a solid, squelching pop he tears away from you. “Taste so good,” he heaves, lips coming back even as he’s speaking, ghosting over you. He buries himself in your cunt again, this time focusing solely on your clit, cycling through different motions until he finds the one that makes your hips strain under his sturdy hold.
“Feel so good!” You sigh. “Please, please wanna cum.”
Smirking against you, he takes the hand you’re not clinging to back under your thigh and props it against your ass, slowly teasing a finger in. Absolutely gushing now, it slips in easily. You can feel his smile grow again for a moment before he refocuses on your clit, motions speeding up and increasing the pressure with which he worked. It’s impossible to not shudder under him now, especially with one arm only holding you down.
“C’mon, pretty girl, cum.” He murmurs, easily hooking a second finger into you, pumping and curling them in time with his tongue. As he feels you flutter and cream he can’t help but rut into the mattress, cock swelling from the taste of you. The pressure inside is too much and your want to let go is pushing you closer and closer, although it’s his mouth and fingers that really push you forward.
“C-cu-!” The words get trapped in your throat, overtaken by a hushed moan you struggle to bite back, trying - but very much failing - to be mindful of all the half-sleeping people strewn through the house. He slowly brings you down, fingers winding down and tongue lapping up your swollen clit while you convulse at his touch in time with the fluttering of your cunt.
At last, you have to drag him off, needily tugging up on his hands until he lets go. You try to pull him in to kiss, but he hesitates, his strength far outweighing your weak, blissful one and he hovers above you. There’s no reason to ask because almost immediately his fingers that were inside of you, absolutely drenched, come up to his mouth so he can make a show of sucking them dry for you.
“Taste even better than the stuff you make.” He sighs, letting you drag him down to your face. You can smell and taste yourself so strongly on his damp lips, it clouds your already hazy senses.
“Hmm,” you manage out, when he rests his entire body weight against yours, lips pressed into the side of your head. It’s only when you go to shift that you feel him pressing so incredibly hard and flush to you exposed skin through his soft pants, that you perk up. “Samu,” you begin brushing your fingers through his soft, dark hair, “can I...wanna help you.”
“Mhmm,” he nestles against your neck, kissing over the spots he left behind earlier, “in a minute, pretty girl, we have a lot of time ahead of us.”
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beamystar · 4 years
Note
Could you do a reader x Louis fic where maybe he falls hard for white fox with the fluffiest tail? 👉🏻👈🏻Like maybe he met them outside of school during the meteor festival before the anime ends or if that’s too hard you can come up with your own scenario..sORRY I HOPE IM NOT BEING COMPLICATED! Thank you !
A/N: thank you for the request !! I’ve definitely got a few in my inbox and I think what I’m planning to do is a louis insert/legosi insert/louis- back and forth like that, bc they’re basically the only requests I’ve gotten haha!
There will actually be a part 2 to this because it got a little long, so look forward to it! :)
Clouds— Or Something Along Those Lines (Louis x You)
The meteor festival was busy, like always. Every year the school helped participate in the event- all the clubs suddenly had their hands full of activities, regardless if they were a very popular club or not. Everyone had to chip in at least a little bit!
You were one of the students in your sort-of-elitist school who wasn’t a part of a club. You never really found a specific interest in anything that was offered, and your attention tended to waver between multiple things at once. So you really wouldn’t make a good club member to begin with- that was your reasoning for not joining. But, to counter that- you decided to be the helping hand if anyone found themself in need of one.
And no one needed a helping hand more than when it was the meteor festival. There basically wasn’t a moment that you weren’t on your feet, helping several of the clubs with their more tedious chores that they’d rather hand off to someone else so they could focus on something more important.
Not that you really mind. This is what you signed up for! You’re definitely not the fastest animal out there, or the strongest, but you think you’re a good enough compromise for most things. You’re in the middle of fast-walking through the park with multiple boxes in your hands- kind of towering over you so that it was hard to see, but it should be fine.
And then, of course, you had to run into somebody. Of course you did. Thankfully, whoever you bumped into was tall and fast, and they helped steady the boxes in your arms before any of them could fall.
“Whoa!” You exclaim before you laugh a bit under your breath. “Thank you- I’m real sorry about that!” Looking over the boxes, you see who you ran into-
And of course! It’s the most pretentious member of your pretentious school, Louis the red deer.
The deer actually looks frustrated- which is new- before he quickly fixes his tense features and tries to look undisturbed. “It’s fine,” he assures you. “But you should probably lighten your load so it doesn’t happen again.”
“Oh, is that an offer?” Your ears perk up and you can see the flash of irritation on his face. Your tail wags just a bit in interest.
You’ve never been this close to Louis before- you never had a reason to. You were never a big fan of plays to begin with and you didn’t like how everyone idolized Louis- and you especially didn’t like how Louis idolized himself. But seeing the deer struggle to keep his usual perfect composure intrigues you.
“...I suppose I have time,” Louis sighs through his nose and picks up the boxes sitting atop your stack with ease. “Where are we headed?”
“Just to that stall over there- I’m delivering some more supplies.” You take the lead, walking ahead of Louis as you walk down the path. You have to pace a little in order to be in the front- his legs are much longer than yours- but you manage. It’s easier now that your load has been lightened a bit.
“...Sound supplies. Are you a part of the music club?”
“Ah, observant. I’d expect nothing less,” your tail wags casually between your legs as you smile. “No, I’m not a part of any club. I just like to help out- ah, you can put them over here-“ you reach the stall and walk around it, toward the tall oak tree it’s next to. You huff as you drop the heavy boxes, Louis placing the others right next to it.
You sigh and stretch your back before you look up to him, meeting his eye as you smile. “Thank you, Louis. Is there anything the theatre club needs help with?”
The club president waves your offer off with his hand. You don’t miss the fact that he’s the first to break eye contact. “No, that won’t be necessary. Thank you for the offer, though.”
“So polite,” you eye him in interest. “And so well trained, too. No wonder you’re popular.”
You hold back your grin as you see him get angry again. It’s only a split second- but a second is all you need.
“Trained?” He sounds throughly offended, as he should. That was the point.
“I’m just tugging your tail, don’t worry,” you put your hands on your hips and shrug. “You’re very emotional today. Your nose flares when you’re angry, you know. I can see it.”
Louis doesn’t say anything back- perhaps because he’s dumbfounded or perhaps because he doesn’t want to feed your nonsense. Which is fair enough.
“I guess that’s just my foxy nature or something- being a little shit sometimes,” you chuckle. “I’m sorry if I offended you. But if you do need my help, give me a holler, yeah?”
You leave him alone beneath the oak tree, making a quick retreat as you have more music supplies to deliver. You know when you push your luck with some animals and you were definitely doing that with Louis- you can practically feel his glare on your back as you casually walk away.
Surprisingly enough, though- one of the club members for the theatre comes up to you eventually and asks for your help. “Louis said to find the fox with the fluffy tail,” it was a tall peacock who found you. He points to your tail with his feathered hand. “I’m assuming that’s you?”
You can’t help but laugh. “Yeah, that’s me.”
Apparently you had left somewhat of an impact on him- enough to actually tell his club members about you. And when you head over to the tall, impressive structure that you’ve honestly been eyeing the entire time it’s been here, Louis is standing nearby with his hands on his hips as he instructs several other animals about something or other.
You’re instructed by the peacock to help paint the large dragon, and you do so happily, though you can’t help but wander off eventually so that you creep up to Louis when he’s distracted. Silently, you get close enough so you can tickle the hand by his side with your supposedly fluffy tail.
The feeling shocks him and he looks down at you with wide eyes, and you look back up at him with a wide smile. “It’s you,” he barely manages to hold back what’s probably disgust in his tone as he holds his hand close to his chest. You laugh.
“Don’t act surprised, you’re the one who basically invited me here! I knew you’d eventually need my help.”
“Oh, you knew, did you?”
“Mhmm. And I wasn’t wrong.” You wave your little paintbrush around, circling it between your fingers. “Thanks for the compliment, by the way.”
Louis looks like he doesn’t know what on earth you’re talking about, making you snort. “Fluffy tail? That’s a compliment if you ask me.”
The deer’s mouth falls open- closed- and then open again- until eventually he gives up and looks away from you completely. “It’s not a compliment,” is all he manages to say.
Your tail wags. “Sure it’s not.”
His twitching brow and flaring nose tells you otherwise.
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theaspers · 4 years
Text
you feel like home | satan x reader
a/n: i’m too lazy to finish this but i got lazy towards the end so here, you can have it. college au so everyone’s human here but u will find i rarely ever write satan’s name and that’s only bc it’s so weird to write it and think about how in this au a set of parents thought naming their child satan is ok lol. this will be the only time u see me use a post divider bc it’s that messy.
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here is how it usually is:
satan wakes up with a start. his breathing is heavy, every gasp sounding terribly like it might be his last, and his eyes are wild. this isn’t fear because he is not afraid. he is never afraid. rather, it is anger. anger at himself, at his brothers, at anyone and everyone who has ever wronged him before. fiery red and burnt orange, anger in all possible forms and shapes and sizes, rolling off of him in waves.
there is not many places in which he finds respite from the barrage of emotions he constantly feels. but when you wake up, bleary-eyed and groggy, and say nothing, waiting with the utmost patience for him to return. when you wrap an arm around his shoulders, careful and cautious. when you tug him down and hum a little tune under your breath that lulls him back to sleep. it’s as close to one as he’ll ever get, he thinks.
for a fleeting second, he thinks about telling you of his feelings. vomit it all out so he doesn’t have to sit any longer with the uncomfortable feelings that’s been bubbling at the pit of his stomach for far too long. but your fingers are too gentle as they press against his still-pounding heart, and your eyes are too tender as they meet his own. there’s an unusually bright beam of moonlight spilling across your features from the gap between the curtains and it makes you look as dazzling as ever. it wouldn’t be right to ruin such a beautiful moment, he thinks, to ruin such a beautiful person with all of whatever he is. so he doesn’t.
repeat and recycle.
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you are kind. with him, you’ve managed to practice this weird balance of confident indifference and empathy that just works for him. it’s never been like that before. not when he’d lost his parents but had felt relieved instead of the expected grief. not when his sister had died and had taken along with her a good portion of everyone’s soul. not when he’d finally just upped and left because the tension in the house was getting too much for him to bear.
he has no parents, he told you once, a long time ago. a green haze of disgust had curled around him and eyes steaming, rolling and boiling. the grip he had on the stack of papers he’d been flicking through caused ripples across the filled pages. you know this fact, clever enough to have gathered as much from how much he soured whenever parents were mentioned, but he had never outright admitted it.
“you’re ruining my notes,” you’d said to him instead of the pity he is all too familiar with. there had been a deep furrow between your eyebrows, displeasure in your frown, “i worked extremely hard on that.”
it had been relief, looking back now, that had filled him up to the brim. his heart had felt full, but not in the bad way - always in the good way with you - and he’d felt unburdened for once. he looked at you then, eyebrows raised. where he thought there would be anger, there was only amusement. he’d only known you for a handful of months but somehow he’d expected as much from you. and it’s comfortable.
“the world’s full of awful, terrible people who shouldn’t be parents,” you’d pointed at him with an opened highlighter pen, waving the neon tip in his direction, “doesn’t mean you’re awful or terrible too.”
huh.
“and it certainly doesn’t mean i want to spend my whole afternoon talking about them,” your frown turned into a scowl as you reached over the tabletop filled with textbooks and worn notebooks and loose papers, “give those here if you’re not gonna treat them right.”
light laughter spilled out of his lips as he pulled the notes away. you were kind. too kind. looking back, that must have been the start of it all.
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you’re curled up in a hoodie, crumpled up on the sofa in a way he’s sure is not good at all for your posture but he’s long given up trying to chastise you over it. face smooshed against the arm of the chair, a textbook draped open over your chest in a way that makes him wince, you looked positively ridiculous. ignoring the pang of fondness, he nudges you with his knee.
“come on,” he says, closing the textbook and putting it aside, “let’s get you to bed.”
you groan but are otherwise easily coaxed into bed, curling into his side as he lead you to your room. the fondness magnifies immensely. that you’d spent the better half of yesterday revisiting old topics and making notes which is why you’re so tired right now is somehow endearing to him. he brushes his lips against your forehead as he watches you settle into bed. if he spends a bit more time lingering at the door, no one would know.
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he doesn’t want to say it’s because of you but you did play a big part in it. he talks more to his brothers now and it’s, well, good. it’s the distance and the fresh air too, maybe.
he doesn’t have parents but he does have 6 brothers, he’d admitted one quiet night. the two of you had been lying on your backs, the clear night sky spread out over your figures, gorgeous swirls of different shades of blacks and dark blues with specks of bright diamond jewels. 6 brothers and a sister who had passed and had taken a piece of all of them with her.
“oh.” you’d said but you already knew about his brothers because he’d told you. not so much in stories, of course, but through bits and pieces he’d mentioned here and there. beel likes that snack, he would tell you and so you’d tell him to send some to him. asmo’s been talking to him about a brand new make up collection that’ll be released soon and so you’d tell him that you’ll keep an eye out. but the thing about his sister - that’s new.
the hurt is still there even though it’s been a long time now. raw pain as if his chest is dangerously exposed and someone’s gone ahead and ripped his still-beating heart out of him. he has yet to find that heart, it seems. it still hurts but ever since he’d left, he’s been able to breathe a bit better. see past the green and grey cloud that hovered over him and his brothers when he’d been at home.
“that one’s orion,” you’d murmured, and he knows it’s just you trying to digest his words, trying to figure out a good response, “people use that one to find other stars too, did you know that?”
he did, in fact. but still, he’d watched, quiet as you pointed out a few others. your eyes are wonder-filled, the twinkle brighter than anything else in the sky, and it had left him breathless. the tightness around his throat had loosened. southeastward and there is sirius, you’d said, in awe and in love. from rigel to betelgeuse, there is gemini - the stars castor and pollux.
“it must be stuffy to be immortalised like that, huh?” you’d turned him then, meeting his eyes, smile gentle, “always expected to be same. unchanging. must be suffocating.”
a stray chuckle leaves him, weak.
“just let it happen,” you told him afterwards and he’d wanted to laugh even more because it shouldn’t be that easy to absolve him of everything he’s been feeling but it had been. “all i’m saying is that you don’t need to feel guilty anymore.”
“talk to them,” you suggested, no hesitation, letting him lean against you, “they lost a sister too, you know?”
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there’s a lecture that he has to attend in about an hour but you’re still snoring away on your side of his bed and it’s so tempting to join you in sweet slumber. you don’t have classes until later on so you’re good but he’ll be late if he dallies for any longer.
but he can’t seem to pull himself away from you. so he takes this in, the absolute mess in the morning. listens to your steady breathing. savours the moment and keeps it close. a beautiful solace that he’ll allow himself for when he needs the reprieve.
“ha,” there’s a smug curl to your lips, eyelids fluttering open as if knowing that he’d been starting, “nerd. go to class.”
he rolls his eyes. he could always count on you to ruin a tender moment.
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“you should get one for lucifer,” the words barely leave your mouth before you’re laughing, from a tiny little snicker to full blown laughter, “for- for cerberus.”
the hand that’s holding out your phone for him to see the page full of ugly little suit for dogs shakes wildly. he scowls at the mention of his eldest brother and you laugh even more, setting down your utensils in favour of rubbing the tears that have sprung up in the corner of your eyes from laughing too hard.
“are you going back for the break?” you ask once you’ve calmed down, reaching over to pull his plate of pie closer to yourself. you pick up your fork once more, digging into the soft pastry.
he curls his nose at the prospect of going back home, “unfortunately.”
“unfortunately,” you parrot playfully, rolling your eyes. “yeah, okay.” 
“it’s been a long time coming anyways,” you grin around the mouthful of pie, “they miss you, i think. and don’t tell me you don’t miss them too.”
he sighs, shakes his head as he tugs his plate back over to his side. he knew he shouldn’t have given asmo your phone number. he would never attest to the happiness that blooms in chest. no one would be able to prove it, anyways.
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here’s how it is now:
he reels you into a hug as he’s about to leave for back home. he feels as light as a feather, and he has to admit, he’s a bit...excited. when the two of you break apart, he says thank you and gives you an earnest smile. he has to suppress his laughter when feels the way you shudder in his arms.
something’s changing. and change is, well, good. in most cases. and this is one of those cases. it’s good. he’s not afraid, he tells you, he’s never afraid. there is no fear. no anger. just adoration and fondness. for you.
and so he decides in that moment - when he gets back, he’ll let you know.
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ray-jaykub · 3 years
Note
Idk if I can really muster up a super smutty ask atm, but Raph unable to keep from being soft is the oxymoron I live for if you’re up for it.
Alright, time to stop making memes and doodling and procrastinating. I am getting this done wether my brain likes it or not! Anon thanking you for coming to me and talking this morning. im surprised everybody likes donnie's part of the smut bc he was my least favourite to write for :/ wierd, i enjoyed Raph's but then again he's husband for life so... anyway i tried really hard to make him baby even if he's a towering wall of muscel and such.
Warning:smut, 18+, bath loving, female reader
It had been a late night on patrol with his brothers when he was finally able to stop by your home. Using the costumized key for the window, he had no trouble stepping into the most personal space of the apartment. Your room. Compared to the musk,dirt, and sweat that clung to his skin the air smelled of soft mint and strawberry. The only source of light was that coming from your bathroom and a soft humming tune could be heard. Stepping over any mess on your floor he knocked on the ajar door and heard her go dead silent besides the water sloshing.
"It's me baby, ya mind if I come in?" A small exhale came from the bathroom. A soft voice replying.
"Yes, jeeze you scared the crap outta me." Now seeing you, pouting in the bath tub, Raphael chuckled at the sight. You had soap half rinsed out of your hair and enough foam to keep him from peeking into the water. He sat on the toilet with a heavy sigh, finally relaxing his worn muscels in the sauna your bath created. You looked so relaxed and pristine in the steaming water, your hair plastered your face in an almost innocent manner. Raphael didn't even have to say anything before you were on top of what he was thinking. You placed a wet hand on his knee.
"Do you wanna join me?" His lip quirked into a tired smile as he stood to strip of his belongings. The heavy gear and padding sat beside your bed, his shoulders felt wieghtless and he was able to completely breathe in. Raphaels pants and boxers were pulled off in one go, glad he didn't have to wear them anymore. He gave one long stretch before he slipped into the bathtub.
It was put in after you both got together, an industrial thing meant to hold four people. The water was scolding and he felt all the tension fall away. What felt like loads and loads of layered troubles evaporated and finally he could enjoy the sight of you.
You scooted closer to him and began to untie his mask. Leaving soft touches to his temple and jaw, you tossed it onto the sink and went to hold him. In every other day case scenario Raphael would have wanted to rail you against the bath wall but all he could think about was your smooth skin. How you smiled at him and told him you loved him. Your love caressed him like a warm blanket and all he wanted to do was repay the favor.
You were laying against his plastron and resumed your song as he traced shapes into your back. His hands went lower and lower, fingers feeling like feather, gliding across your back. Your hands started to wonder along his sides, tenderly rubbing each rib you could feel and then his hip bone. Raphael felt your fingers knead at the top his thighs and went to gently rub the inner curve of your thigh. Niether of you were in a rush with eachother today, it was just simply about the pleasure.
He couldn't help but cup one of your breast, his fore finger and thumb rolled the sweet nub. Raph leaned down and gave a slow lick to the bud and you softly moaned at the feeling. Arching your back to be on display for him really started to make his body warmer and not from just the water. He trailed sloppy, open mouthed kisses to the curve of your boob to your neck. A blissful hum left you and Raphael felt you start to thumb the head of his cock. Slow circles that left promise in thier touch.
Raphael bit his lip and pulled you to lay on him, arms wrapped around his shoulders. He softly kissed you, tounge peeking in and out to feel your smooth bottom lip. His left hand went to your slick folds and the right continued to make paths on your skin. The feeling of you was intoxicating like some drug they sold on the corner to desperate people. Your eyes shined bright as you lined him up to your entrance. The bath water had already become luke warm but both bodies were still hot from passion.
Slowly you were able to sit yourself halfway before teasing. You gave him another kiss as you started to gently bob up and down. You weren't bouncing but it felt almost as tantalizing. Your silk walls tightening with every languid stroke nearly sent him into nirvana. Raphael closed his eyes and a low moan left him as he tipped his head back. 
"Ooh princess you feel so good for me..." he sounded like he was half asleep but his touch told you otherwise. He had taken akin to circling your clit heavily. It was the only bit of his rough exterior you could get out of him but you were too busy enjoying the gooey insides to think. You tried to keep your rythm slow and on tempo but your climax was reaching its peak. Raphael seemed to be on the brink as well, taking to letting go gruff pants. His cheast heaved as you picked up a fraction of speed, he was about to unravel.
You were letting go a steady stream of whispery moans and cried out when Raoh gave a praticularly harder press to your clit. All it took was for him to look at you, with such love and adoration, and you came right on him. You were squeezed tight around his member and he nearly choked from the intensity of it all.
His release shot into you and nearly spilled out into your bath water. Nothing but the sound of heavy panting and sloshing water was left. You giggled as you stare at his worn state, first patrol and now this. You leaned towards him and asked.
"Wanna take a shower?"
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swlbarnes · 5 years
Text
Kindred Spirits - Jack Kline x Reader
Summary: Why are you the only person that can see Jack’s wings?
Pairing: Jack Kline x Reader
Word count: 6k (i didn’t mean for it to happen but here we are)
Warnings: self doubt from both jack and reader, jack being a total sweetheart as always bc that’s totally a warning
A/N: soulmate AU with Jacky boy bc he has wings too and dangit he deserves the ever so lovely cliche “soulmates can see an angel’s wings” trope. Hopefully this can satisfy y’all’s needs for fluffy Jack content, even if I did make it a bit too long. I got excited.
Taking Jack in after everything was strange to say the least. The boy was always exceedingly kind to you and consistently tried his best to make everyone around him happy, yet opinions on him were quite divided in the bunker for quite a while. While you and Sam both held strong to the idea that he was inherently good despite his parentage, Dean couldn’t seem to shake his grudge against him. Every time the poor kid tried to do something for the team, Dean would always be prepared with a snarky remark.
Another thing about Jack’s presence in the bunker that had your mind twisted in confusion was the large pair of wings behind his back. You had never really seen an angel’s wings before, and from what you knew of angel lore, no one but other angels really could see them. Cas has tried to explain it to you one night as you sat side by side in the library of the bunker, but he tended to use references to sciences that humans had no grasp of yet, making the whole thing a bit pointless, really. Needless to say, it was a pretty big shock when you took in the sight of the young nephilim’s wings. Was this because he was a nephilim? Do nephilims usually have their wings out and visible? You wanted nothing more than to come forward to the boys with all of your questions, but something about it felt… wrong. Surely if it was polite to ask about an angel’s wings, then they would have mentioned them already. Perhaps it was even dangerous to ask, seeing as Dean had no intentions of remaining civil with the boy, and he, too, remained silent on the matter. Besides, they were the ones that knew more about nephilims. Maybe it was best to just follow their lead.
It just didn’t add up. How were you the only one to notice them? His wings were massive. Jack was by no means a small man, but something about the vast size of his wingspan made his body seem minuscule. The grand appendages arched upwards from his back, looming above his head and shoulders before reaching out a few feet on either side of his body. Most of the feathers adorning them were a glimmering white that seemed to reflect back every color of the rainbow when hit perfectly with the light. Towards the bottom of each wing were a few rows of pure golden feathers. They each ended in a sharp point, the metallic fluff gleaming in a way that no earthly creature could. Everything about his wings gave off such a purely celestial energy, and to be honest, just looking at them made you feel utterly sinful.
You really did try your best to keep quiet about the whole thing. You promise you did. Sometimes you just… can’t do that, though. You cared about Jack incredibly deeply, and that was the exact reason that you had to speak up.
“I’m just saying, Dean, we can’t leave him here alone. Who knows who could come for him here? He’s not ready to defend himself alone. Plus, we need all hands on deck with this case. We should bring Jack with us,” Sam insisted from his place behind his laptop at one of the library tables. You raised a brow, peering over the research book in your lap. You were reclined in one of the plush armchairs off to the side, while Dean and Jack sat with Sam, one in front of him, and one by his side, respectively.
Dean rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest for what you could only assume was dramatic effect. “It’s too dangerous, the kid stays here. (Y/N) can look after him, we’ll do the hunt just the two of us.” His tone left no room to argue, yet Sam still managed to worm his way in for a rebuttal.
“Seriously?” The younger brother groaned incredulously. “We have no idea what this thing is, and you want to go in without backup? Look, whatever this is, it’s nothing we’ve faced before. Four men, all drained of blood by five crescent shaped puncture wounds to the neck. Not a bite mark, not a normal stab wound, nothing like that. We have nothing to go off of, and we need extra help. I’m just saying, Jack would be an asset.”
Dean opened his mouth, ready to retort, but you were quicker to the punch. “Jack can’t go, though,” you stated matter of factly. The room fell silent, and after a moment, you risked a look up to meet the three pairs of eyes looking your way. Dean appeared to be smug, as he usually was when you took his side in arguments. Sam’s jaw hung slightly ajar in shock at your claim. But Jack’s was the worst. Not only did his facial expression convey his deep betrayal, but his naturally shining, vibrant, proud wings hung low and dragged on the floor, the feathers dulled significantly. He looked broken. You immediately averted your gaze, unable to meet his eyes knowing you were the cause of that reaction.
“What? Are you seriously taking his side in this? After all your serious sit downs you’ve had telling him that Jack is a useful addition to the team, all those times you’ve given Jack pep talks, all that, yadda yadda yadda, was that all just fake?” Sam spat. His hazel eyes burned holes in your head. His jaw was clenched in an attempt to bite back on any words he might regret later.
Your eyes grew wide at the sudden fury radiating off the younger Winchester, but what shocked you even more were his words. How dare he say that? How dare he, in front of Jack, insinuate that you didn’t care about the nephilim’s well-being? You had been nothing but kind to him since he arrived, and you were forever grateful to have him around. But how could Sam not see the issue in all of this? “What are you talking about, Sam? Of course I believe all of that! I think Jack is a gift to this team and you know it, so don’t you dare suggest otherwise, especially in front of him. I care about Jack just like you do. I’d put my life on the line for him time and time again, and I think he’s one of the kindest, most genuine people I’ve ever met. Don’t you dare tell him I don’t,” you nearly growled out in reply. Your eyes were narrowed and you leaned forward to deliver him a glare of the same caliber.
Sam seemed taken aback by your comeback, but he refused to let you shock him into silence. “Oh really?” He scoffed. “Then what’s the problem, huh? Why can’t the kid come with us on this case? What could possibly be more important than keeping him safe with us?”
Finally, you couldn’t handle it anymore. You couldn’t bring yourself to care if it was rude anymore, you were doing this for Jack’s own good. “His WINGS!” You cried out, throwing your hands in the air in exasperation. “There, are you happy? I said it! Jack has wings! And I refuse to bring him somewhere that he can be captured by humans and treated like some kind of lab rat experiment!” You knew all too well how red your face was by this point. You could hear the blood pumping in your ears as you fought to catch your breath.
You waited for the gasps of disgust at your poor taste in words. You expected to be scolded within an inch of your life for having disrespected the signal of Jack’s power. You waited. Then you waited. Then you waited some more. And after waiting just a little more, you looked up to meet their expressions. They were far from the angry faces you had expected. Instead they just seemed… confused.
“Okay, now you lost me. What are you getting at here?” Dean questioned with furrowed brows. Your gaze darted back and forth between the three men expectantly, waiting for them to laugh and assure you that they were only joking, but they didn’t. Their faces held steady.
You felt much of your anger melting away into confusion. “I… what? Why are you guys so confused? I mean, he’s got… wings. I’m not trying to be disrespectful, I’m not saying they’re bad. I think they’re absolutely gorgeous and they look really soft and nice, but other people aren’t going to be so understanding and I don’t know what I’d do with myself if someone got to you, Jack,” You rambled on. Your nervousness quickly got the better of you under the nephilim’s watchful, curious gaze. You would be lying if you said that you weren’t attracted to the boy. It often made life in the bunker with him quite difficult, to say the least, what with his constant vibrant smile and carefree nature. After realizing you enjoyed binging on your favorite shows in your free time, he insisted on regularly sitting down together to watch whatever shows or movies you wanted him to see. He didn’t quite understand all of the concepts taking place in each of the plots, but he always tried his best, and he ALWAYS had your favorite snacks and enough blankets to last the winter. Little things like that were what made the hunting life more bearable, and most of those little things seemed to come from Lucifer’s son himself.
Sam looked to you, then to Jack, then back at you. “Are you saying that you… can see his wings?” He wondered aloud, gesturing towards Jack with one hand. You nodded slowly. This didn’t seem to be the answer he had expected, as he immediately asked again. “Like, right now? Right now you see wings… on him?” This time he added a second hand to the gesturing, clearly focusing the movements towards the boy’s torso. Jack shuffled a bit in his seat, but remained silent.
“Yes, Sam! Yes, I see Jack’s wings. Yes, I see them right now. They’re huge and white at the top and at the bottom some of the feathers are gold. One of them is tucked up to his back while the other is- oh, no, Jack! No, please don’t hide them away, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you!” You reached a hand out towards Jack in an attempt to comfort him, only to find that you were much too far away to do such a thing, especially since he had pulled the wing closest to you back in towards his back while you were speaking. His feathers ruffled a bit at your words, his eyes widening to match the subtle movement.
The nephilim turned his gaze to Dean before looking to Sam, clearly seeking an explanation. Each of the brothers could give him nothing but blank, questioning gazes. Dean leaned forward, placing his elbows on the table as he did so. “(Y/N), have you seen Jack’s wings the whole time we’ve known him?”
“Of course…”
“And you didn’t think to, oh I don’t know, freaking tell us about that?” His tone held an edge of anger that you were unsure how to process. The eldest Winchester seemed to snap at you far more often since Jack joined the team, and you were usually able to brush his words off and move on. This time, though, you weren’t sure if his annoyance was a result of Jack’s presence of your lack of action.
“I didn’t think anything of it! I thought everyone could see them!” You retorted, crossing your arms over your chest in a defensive manner. Dean’s body moved with his eyes as they rolled up to the ceiling and then back down to you once again.
“Seriously? You thought we wouldn’t mention that our new housemate has huge freaky wings growing out of his back? I can’t say that’s something I would usually overlook!”
A low groan passed through your lips at this. “Oh, really, Dean? I’m sorry that I didn’t find it odd enough to mention Jack’s wings. I was a little busy with my usual daily tasks, like trying to save your mother from another dimension and killing the last Prince of Hell! I’m not sure you’ve noticed, but Jack having wings is probably the least strange thing I’ve told you this week,” you growled out. After a beat of silence, you decided you couldn’t hold back your other grievance with his words. “And don’t call his wings ‘freaky,’ Dean. If you could see them you’d be singing Jack’s praises. They’re absolutely gorgeous, and guess what? You can’t argue, because apparently, I’m the only one of us humans that knows what they’re talking about!” With that, you sat back with a smug grin.
Dean, however, did not agree with your assumption that you won the argument. He gave a simple annoyed huff in response. “I still think you should’ve told us. Surely you didn’t think we were just ignoring them or whatever?”
You gave a vague shrug to this. “You two are the ones that did most of the research on nephilims, so I thought there might be some respect thing about mentioning them. I was just following your lead with this whole thing.”
Sam shook his head, deciding now would be the best time to interject before your voices began to rise once again in a resurrected argument. “Alright, let’s just forget the whole ‘you should’ve told us’ thing right now. What’s important is figuring out why you can see his wings. What does that even mean?” The taller of the brothers queried, his brows knitted together. Worry lines creased his forehead, much like the ones that made themselves visible on Jack and Dean.
You shrugged your shoulders once again in as nonchalant of a manner as you could. “Does it matter? It doesn’t really seem like a life threatening situation. It’s not a big deal, and we’ve got enough on our plates as it is, don’t you think?” You insisted. Your fingers tapped absentmindedly on the arm of the couch as the three men took a silent moment to think.
“I still don’t like it,” Dean muttered in annoyance, his gaze fixated on a minute pocket of air a few inches from his face.
“You don’t like much of anything nowadays,” was your comment in reply. This earned you a callous glare from the older hunter.
Sam let out a sigh as he leaned back in his chair. His arms stretched over his head, bent at the elbows so he could rub at his exhaustion ridden eyes. “I don’t know,” he spoke through a groan. “I don’t think it’s dangerous, but I’d still like to know why, you know? It might be important later on down the road.” You decided to drop the subject with a sigh, standing up to grab a new book of lore from a nearby shelf. Much to your satisfaction, they all seemed to follow suit, and the bunker library fell silent once more.
After that day, you began to notice the little things that started to change. You and Jack became closer than ever, the boy seeming to crave spending quality time with you whenever he could. Sometimes when night would fall and the nephilim’s demons continued to brawl inside his head, he would make his way into your room. It was easy to tell the difference between Jack’s footsteps approaching and either of the brothers. Dean’s steps were heavy and slightly uneven, and they echoed off the stone walls like a blaring police siren. Sam’s feet hit the ground with less force, but that didn’t make them any less noticeable. His boots still clacked noisily against the floors despite all of his efforts to remain quiet. Jack, however, was a whole different story. Jack’s bare feet shuffled almost silently up to your closed bedroom door on those nights. He wasn’t the biggest fan of shoes, and if he was allowed to go without them, then he would do so in a heartbeat. He would knock on your door, calling out that it was Jack, and asking if he could come in, just like you had taught him. Once he got your approval, he would step inside, closing the door behind him before diving into your bed and curling up next to you. Sometimes he would want to talk about it, other times he just remained silent. You trusted him to do what he felt he needed most, so you never pushed him. You just reached out and ran your fingers through his feathers until he drifted off to sleep at your side.
Sam continued to scour every piece of angel and nephilim lore he could find in an attempt to find an answer to your little winged mystery, but everything he read just came up empty. Most hunters didn’t even know angels existed, and most of the readings from nonhunters were just speculation. Even still, nothing he found could give him an answer. If the Men of Letters didn’t know about it, then he wasn’t sure how it settled with him.
It wasn’t until the brothers went out on their own hunt in Grand Junction that anything came of it all. In other words, it wasn’t until Castiel came back that you had any answers.
Your reunion with the seraph was tear filled to say the least. You remember clinging desperately to his form, your fingers curling into the familiar beige trenchcoat as if it might fade away any second, taking your dear friend with it. Jack was quick to show off his progress with his powers, much to your amusement. Your eyes couldn’t help but linger on the way his wings twitched in anticipation of his adoptive father’s reaction, and the smile that broke out on his face when Castiel praised him was enough to send your heart racing. Oh, you had surely fallen, and you had fallen hard.
Your mind hardly registered the complexity of your situation with Jack anymore at that point. You came to find that his wings were just as expressive as his face, and you were soon able to read the most minor of twitches and flutters with ease. This only served to bring you even closer to the man. It was that exact closeness that eventually led to Castiel’s discovery of your predicament.
You sat in one of the old wooden chairs in the library, Jack seated just to your left. The pair of you gazed listlessly at the dust ridden lore books splayed out on the table in front of you. Across the table sat the two older hunters and your angel companion, each one with their own piece of research material, whether it be in the form of a laptop or another one of the decrepit tomes stocked in the Men of Letters library.
The air of the bunker always seemed to carry a certain chill to it that never ceased to send chills up and down your frame. This night was surely no exception. You tugged desperately at the flannel covering your shoulders in an attempt to conserve some of your body heat, but your efforts were naught; the goosebumps along your arms remained undefeated.
Another all consuming shiver rattled your form before you decided to speak up. “Would it kill you boys to turn up the heating in this place?” You muttered in annoyance as you tugged your knees up towards your chest in order to keep warm. Dean peered up at you from over the top of his laptop screen, an amused grin tugging at his lips.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart? A little chilly?” He mused. His tone was far from comforting, and the sound caused you to let out a huff of annoyance. “Why don’t you just go grab a jacket?”
You rolled your eyes in reply. “Because I’m inside at home and I shouldn’t have to wear fifty layers of clothing just to keep from freezing to death in the good year of 2019,” you insisted. You were on the verge of teeth chattering at this point, and therefore you made sure to speak through your teeth as if you were simply angry with the eldest Winchester - little did he know that you simply couldn’t talk any other way without sounding like a fool.
Sam let out a chuckle, only for the sound to be cut off with a cough as soon as your glare fell on him. His eyes focused back on the screen in front of him, his face wiped clean of his previous amusement. Good boy.
Jack turned to you with a look of concern etched into his features. “You’re cold?” He queried, his eyes scanning over the way your hands were rubbing relentlessly at your upper arms. You let out a hum and gave a quick nod of your head. At this reply, Jack wasted no time in unfurling his wings. The wing closest to you curled around just behind your back and around your shoulders. You were instantly encased in the warmth and the soft comfort of the nephilim’s wings. Your eyes fluttered closed, and for just a moment you allowed yourself to get lost in the sensation of his fledging flight feathers brushing against your skin.
A low hum of approval passed through your lips, a sound your brain only partially recognized before it left you. Your body curled subconsciously into Jack’s little embrace. “That’s a lot better,” you murmured, your voice hardly a whisper in the still air of the bunker library. “Thank you, Jack.”
You opened your eyes to look at the man by your side, and you were pleased to see the bright smile on his face. You were quick to return his expression before turning back to your lore book to continue translating the old ancient Greek text. Your plan to continue on as normal didn’t last very long, however, as only moments later Castiel spoke up in the quiet atmosphere.
“(Y/N)...” He pressed, his tone insistent but maintaining a soft edge as not to frighten you. You looked up towards the angel to assure him that you were listening. He cleared his throat and sat up a little straighter in his chair, if that was even possible for the eons old soldier anymore. “Do you… Do you happen to see Jack’s wings…?”
The question was a simple one. You’d been over this before. You’d talked through this with the boys already. Even after that first conversation, Dean insisted on asking you repeatedly for a few days afterwards just to try to catch you in some elaborate lie. There was nothing that should have made you pause about his line of questioning, but still, you found yourself hesitating at the sound of the query coming off of Castiel’s lips. This was an angel. He knows these things. This was different.
Your throat grew dry when sapphire blue eyes locked with your own. You did all you could to force down the rising lump in your throat, finally bringing yourself to squeak out a feeble, “yes…?” in response. You reached out and grabbed your beer bottle from the table, easily bringing it to your lips and taking a swig. Whether you were seeking out the dull buzz from the alcohol or the relief the liquid brought to your suddenly parched throat, you could never be sure.
This interaction didn’t go unnoticed by the taller of the two Winchesters. Sam’s head poked up from behind his laptop once again, his brows tugged together so much so that his forehead became littered with creased lines. “Cas? Do you know what that means? I’ve been scouring the lore night and day trying to find something, and I couldn’t find a single recorded instance of this,” he informed the angel, his voice dripping with concern.
Cas gave a dismissive shake of his head at the taller man’s efforts. “I wouldn’t expect it to be recorded anywhere. Soulmates are far too sacred for such things.” Castiel’s voice was always gruff, but there was something about this new information that sent his tones even deeper with thought.
Dean instantly began sputtering wildly at his friend’s simplistic statement. “You said the what now?” He cried out. The hunter’s eyes were saucers of emerald, glinting with the shock of what he just learned.
Cas finally broke from his reverie long enough to turn his eyes to the bewildered man to his right. His squinted gaze flickered to and from Dean’s expression. “I believe I spoke quite clearly. If (Y/N) is able to see Jack’s wings, then the only answer is that they are soulmates,” he clarified.
Your face was surely somewhere close to cherry red at that point, your jaw dropped open in utter shock. You couldn’t believe it. How could you believe such a thing? Jack was a creature that was truly one of a kind. Born of an archangel and a human and stronger than the devil himself, he was a symbol of hope for the future of humanity. You? You were just some poor sap that got roped into a life of nightmares and loss. The idea that he was meant to be with you so much so that the fates demanded it, it was dizzying.
Against all of your better judgment, you turned to spare a glance at the nephilim by your side. Much to your surprise, you didn’t find a fuming, disappointed hybrid, but a bubbly young man with a childlike excitement in his eyes. A broad smile adorned his lips and his chest puffed outwards with swelling pride. The wings on his back ruffled as they shifted to make themselves larger as well. The one wrapped around your form curled a bit tighter, pressing you closer to his chair.
“So,” Jack chirped, “does that mean that we’re meant to be together like Anakin and Padmé?”
You and Sam both visibly winced at the insinuation, but Castiel was the one to speak up. “Perhaps they aren’t the best idea of romance and healthy human relationships.”
Dean scoffed, snatching his beer from the table and tipping it back to take a swig. “Understatement of the century, man. He did kinda end up killing her when she was pregnant with their twins then spent his time undoing her life’s work to restore the democracy to the galaxy, but sure. Maybe they’re just a little iffy.”
Sam smirked and turned to Dean with his arms crossed over his chest. “I wasn’t aware you were well versed in Star Wars lore, Dean,” he teased, much to the older man’s annoyance.
“It’s Star Wars, man,” he muttered. “‘Course I’ve seen it. And the prequels were garbage.”
That was it, you had to speak up. “Guys!” You shouted, causing all four men to jump in their seats in fright. Their bewildered gazes landed on you. “Are you seriously talking about Star Wars when we just learned that Jack and I are soulmates? Can we please gain a little perspective!” You snapped. Jack’s wing pressed into your back in an attempt to comfort you, and to be honest, it did the job.
“Yeah, yeah, sorry,” Sam muttered, turning to Cas once again. “So, what exactly does this whole thing mean?”
Cas leaned back in his chair. His hands clasped together in his lap. “It is really quite self explanatory. An angel’s wings can only be seen by other angels and, in very special cases, that angel’s intended soulmate.” A pleased smile stretched across his lips as his eyes flickered back and forth between you and Jack. “Not many angels have the fortune of getting a soulmate, so this is truly quite remarkable. I’m glad you two have found each other. You deserve all the comfort your bond brings.”
Though you remained rigid with shock, you couldn’t help the smile blooming on your face from the sentiment. Castiel might be a ferocious warrior trained and worked as a soldier for eons, but at the end of the day the seraph would always be a huge softie.
“So is this like, God hath come down and decreed that these two shall bang?” Dean asked as bluntly as possible. You were sure that by that point, all the blood in your body was circulating through only your face and cheeks.
“D-Dean!” You scolded him. Your voice raised an octave or two in your embarrassment. The older hunter cast you a simple wink.
Castiel shook his head, paying no mind to the awkward atmosphere you were radiating in reaction to Dean’s words. “I’m unsure how their bond was put in place. For other angels, God did hand pick the angels and their soulmate counterparts and set the bond himself, however that was millennia ago. There have been no new fledglings since then, and therefore, no more bonds to create. How this one was made is beyond me.” The answer was just enough to answer a few of their questions, only to leave them with a handful more that would surely remain a mystery.
A low groan escaped your lips as you settled your forehead on your knees, which were still tucked up against your chest. This was too much. This was way too much. You hadn’t even spilled your feelings about Jack and you were already going to be rejected, and by your soulmate no less. Jack surely saw you as just a friend, and as much as it hurt, you vowed to go forward however he wished. A moment or two passed in complete silence before anyone moved.
“I’m gonna head to bed,” Sam announced. His chair legs squealed against the ground as he scooted away from the table to stand. The sound of Dean agreeing and standing up made itself prominent, followed by a quick whack!
“What?” Cas’s voice muttered in confusion. More silence, then, “Oh! Yes, yes I should leave as well. Very busy recently. Lots of things to get done. Being alive again is very time consuming. Good night everyone.” A tell tale flap of wings and a gust of wind strong enough to turn the pages of the book in front of you let you know that he had gone. Dean’s retreat to his bedroom was clear by the heavy footsteps overshadowing his faint muttering about Castiel’s cluelessness.
“(Y/N)?” Jack’s voice called softly from his place next to you. You let out a hum of acknowledgement, but refused to lift your head to meet his eyes. Apparently, this was not enough for the nephilim. He let out a sigh, and soon enough he had hooked his foot on the leg of your chair and dragged it over until it collided with his own with a clank! Even still, your head stayed down. “(Y/N) please look at me?”
“No thank you,” you muttered. Your voice was muffled through the denim of your jeans, but he understood you all the same.
Another sigh from the man. The wing on your back grew heavier against your shoulders, as though he was no longer making an effort to hold it up. “Is it really so bad that you have to be with me?”
Your body froze. His voice wavered with uncertainty and self doubt. That one question was enough to make your heart shatter in your chest. He sounded broken by his realization - no, his idea that you didn’t want him. He thought you were going to reject him.
Your resolve faded away in that moment, and you carefully lifted your head to meet his watery eyed gaze. His lip quivered slightly with his breathing, and it took everything in you not to hold him close and make sure he never has to suffer again. His hands were in his lap, fingers toying with the fuzzy material along the inside of his jacket. He always told you how much he loved the jacket because it was so soft. It comforted him when he got scared. He was seeking out that comfort. Because of you.
“Jack, no, that’s not what this is about at all,” you whispered, being sure to meet his gaze in an attempt to prove your truthfulness. “It’s not bad for me, Jack. Not at all. I just… I worry about how you feel about this whole situation. I’m not exactly the best option you could’ve had. You could’ve been soulmates with a nice, normal, everyday citizen with none of this emotional baggage coming along with them. Someone without a hero complex, or memories of Hell, or enough nightmares behind their eyelids to give Stephen King a run for his money. You could’ve had someone like that, but instead it’s just… me.” You fought to swallow the rising lump in your throat as you finished speaking.
“You… You aren’t ashamed of me?” Jack asked you in disbelief. The broken shards of your heart continued to crumble into dust. The absolute awe in his eyes over the simple fact that you weren’t ashamed to be his soulmate was devastating. He truly thought so little of himself already in his short life.
“Of course not, sweetheart,” you assured the nephilim. You dropped your feet back to the ground and reached towards him, resting your palm against his cheek. The tears he had built up along his bottom lid escaped their confines to trail down his cheeks. Your eyes followed the droplet as it made its way down along the curves of his face. Just before it reached his jawline, you raised your other hand up and swiped your thumb over the teardrop. Your finger followed the wet trail it left behind, wiping away the remnants until both palms were pressed against his cheeks. Your thumbs brushed carefully over his cheekbones as you cradled the man’s face in your hands.
“But I’m an abomination. I’m Lucifer’s son, I might be evil. I could hurt you. I could kill you!” He insisted, his eyes growing panicked with each passing second. You shook your head.
“You’re not evil, and you won’t hurt me. I trust you. And so what if the angels think you’re an abomination? They say the same thing about Sam, you know. Is Sam bad?” He shook his head slowly. “Exactly. Sometimes… Sometimes people are treated badly just because of who they are. It’s not right, and it’s not good, but it happens. That’s why we do our best to prove those people wrong. Okay? You’ve saved people, and you’re going to continue saving people, because that’s who you are. You’re good, Jack. You’re so good, and I wish I could get you to believe that yourself.”
Once again you found yourself staring back at a pair of red rimmed, tear brimming eyes. If you thought he was in awe before, then this was absolute disbelief. His mouth hung just slightly ajar as his eyes scanned your face for any signs that you were lying. A moment passed, and he must have been satisfied with his findings, because soon enough he was pulling you towards him and pressing his lips to yours. You leaned in to the kiss and your eyes fluttered shut. The taste of the soda he had off to the side still lingered on his lips, and all too soon you had to pull away.
Jack’s eyes were shining in the low light of the library. He pressed his forehead to yours, brushing his nose over yours in an affectionate manner. “I think I like kissing,” he commented in a soft tone.
A chuckle escaped you. “Feel free to do it anytime, then,” you welcomed with a dazed grin. Jack smiled before connecting your lips with his own once again. He pulled you flush against him, and soon enough you were encompassed in the soft warmth of a pair of large white and golden wings, encapsulating you two together and blocking out the rest of the world, because in the end, none of that really mattered. As long as you had Jack by your side, you knew you could get through anything.
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in-tua-deep · 4 years
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Inktober day one: Birthday
Prompt list by @totallyevan​, here ;3c
below the cut bc long
“Happy Birthday to us!” Klaus cheers loudly, passing out the party hats that Five suspects he’d stolen from the dollar store. Klaus himself is wearing two, having explained unprompted that clearly he was wearing Ben’s hat for him as well.
“I’m not wearing this.” Diego tells them all severely, glaring at the bright paper cone. “Absolutely not.”
“C’mon, D.” Klaus rolls his eyes, “Be a good sport!”
He’s inching closer to Five as he says this, causing the boy to squint suspiciously out of the corner of his eye. The fact that Klaus is gripping another party hat in his hands gave more than the necessary hint as to what he was up to.
“If you even try,” Five informs his brother serenely, making Klaus freeze in place, “Not even the buzzards will find your body.”
“Five,” Vanya says admonishingly. He gives his sister a scowl and crosses his arms. He’s not going to bow to this idiocy just because his favorite sister is looking at him like that. He’s not.
“If Diego doesn’t have to wear one then I don’t have to, either.” Five declares, and as one the entire family swings around to stare at Diego, who pinks at the attention and hunches his shoulders defensively. 
“If I have to wear one, everyone has to wear one.” Luther scowls, and he really does look ridiculous with the tiny party hat against his big body. However, this input has the opposite effect of getting Diego to fall in line and he tosses the hat onto the table.
“Everyone has to wear one anyway, because it’s our birthday! Birthdays! We have to celebrate!” Klaus exclaims, leaning so far over the table that it’s a very real possibility that he’s going to tip over and crash. “We’re all together! For the first time in ages! Together birthday bash!”
“It’s not even your birthday.” Five’s voice cuts through the noise, making everyone blink and turn to him. Not expecting the attention, Five takes a small step back. “I mean - Klaus was in Vietnam for ten months. Technically his 30th birthday was… ten months ago. His 31st is in two months. It’s not today.”
Klaus blinks as the rest of the family turns towards him. “Hey hey, that’s not fair. That’s not what a birthday is! A birthday is the day you were born, and I’ll thank you all to remember that I was born on October 1st just like the rest of you.”
“A birthday is the celebration of surviving another 365 days,” Five rebuffs, “Otherwise people born on leap years would be legally toddlers their whole lives.”
“Is it the days that your mind has gone through or your body?” Vanya interrupts, looking contemplative. “Because you ended up in your younger body, Five. Does that make this your 59th birthday or your 14th?”
Five sputters with incoherent rage, as he always does when his physical vs. mental age is brought up, but the other siblings are picking up that thread now.
“If he has the body he left in,” Allison muses aloud, “And he left in November, right? We’d only just turned thirteen, right? So from April 1st to now is what, six months? So wouldn’t Five still be thirteen?”
“I am not thirteen!” Five hollers and is generally ignored by the rest of the family. As he always is when he tries to protest against being treated like a child.
“Your body is still thirteen.” Luther attempts to soothe, “We know you’re not actually thirteen.”
Five does not appreciate this. Five has never appreciated this argument. No one is sure why Luther thinks it might work this time when the evidence against it is so strong. 
“I think everyone is getting off topic right now!” Klaus yells, slamming his hands on the table enthusiastically, right before he picks them up and rubs at them with a small whimper. Probably not his best idea, but at this point he’s committed. “What Five was really saying - is that I’m totally the oldest sibling now and by rules of oldest sibling I get to make everyone wear a party hat.”
There’s a short pause as they digest this information, and then absolute chaos as everyone immediately starts protesting as one. 
“Absolutely not,” Allison is saying, shaking her head and looking vaguely horrified at the fact that technically Klaus is the oldest of them.
Luther and Diego seem to be attempting to compete with one another with sheer volume of their arguments against Klaus’s claims to the point that no one can understand either of them. 
“I’m the oldest!” Five howls in outrage, slamming his own hands against the poor table and not even flinching. It’s much more impressive than Klaus’s earlier similar gesture.
“Nuh uh!” Klaus shoots back, very maturely. “In body! I have the body of an almost-32-year-old! Everyone else is 30, and you’re 13! That makes me the oldest!”
“He has a point.” Vanya, the only sibling still sitting calmly in her party hat, shrugs. Since coming off her meds she’s kind of become a little shit - giving the illusion of a neutral party while absolutely stirring shit within the family. Everyone figures it’s only fair after everything that’s happened though. 
“No he doesn’t!” Five looks a little bit like he’s going to hurl himself across the table and physically fight Klaus, just that tiny mad gleam in his eyes, “I did not spend fucking decades in the apocalypse to be delegated to youngest siblings because of a fucking math error!”
“Well maybe ya shouldn’t have made the error!” Klaus shoots back, sniffing and crossing his arms like he’s the offended party in this discussion. 
Five makes a strangled noise and then does launch himself across the table. Klaus yelps and stumbles backwards, tripping over his own two feet (albeit helped somewhat by the long rainbow feather boa that also looks like it came from dollar tree) and lands with a thump on his ass. He only has a few seconds before Five is making a grab for him and he starts outright screaming.
“Five!” Allison shouts, which Luther takes as his cue to at least try and resolve this situation. Of course, he does it in the worst possible way by scooping Five up by his armpits and physically trying to yank him off of Klaus.
This might have worked, if Five didn’t have a death grip on the brother he was currently most furious with. As it is, Klaus is yanked up alongside Five. Klaus was still screaming. 
“What is going on in here?” A voice cuts through the insanity and everyone freezes.
Grace stands in the doorway with a cake in her hands, blinking at the absolutely chaotic scene before her.
Luther is halfway through folding in pain because one of Five’s sneakered feet is buried in his gut, while Five holds Klaus in a chokehold and refuses to let go, and Diego has come around and has his arms on Klaus’s arm to try and yank him away from their feral brother.
Allison is standing with her hands on her hips, mouth snapped shut where it was previously yelling at everyone, and Vanya is balancing precariously on two legs on the chair that she hasn’t yet moved from as she contemplates the insanity involved with being included as a member of the family. 
“Hi mom.” Vanya offers into the silence.
“It’s Klaus’s fault!” Five bursts out before Grace can even answer.
“Is not!” Klaus shoots back, slapping at Five’s arm that is still wrapped around his neck.
“Is too!” Five shoots back, tightening his grip and making Klaus yell. This almost sparks into an entirely new scuffle as Diego starts to move and Luther unfolds - but thankfully they are interrupted.
“Boys,” Grace tuts, looking almost disappointed. “Can you not all try to get along, on today of all days?”
That makes Five finally release his grip on Klaus. Unfortunately, Klaus was not expecting this and shoots into Diego, making them both tumble to the floor. Luther was also not expecting the sudden loss of weight and Five shoots up in his arms like a jack in the box and is very nearly tossed across the room, and would have been if Luther’s grip had been any less secure. 
“Five!” Diego snaps, hauling himself to his feet and bringing Klaus along for the ride. Klaus now only has one party hat perched precariously on his head, the other one having vanished to places unknown. His remaining one looks like it has seen better days.
“Diego.” Five shoots back, mockingly.
“Boys.” Grace says firmly, making them both look abashed. “Luther, put Five down. Diego, Klaus, why don’t you two take a seat. You can all tell me what this was about.”
“Klaus was trying to get us to wear his stupid party hats.” Five offers as soon as his feet hit the ground and he pulls out a chair. 
“They’re not stupid!” Klaus squawks in outrage, “And Five said it’s not my birthday!”
“It’s not my fault you time traveled that first time! You did that all by yourself.” Five shoots back, leaning forward to better engage in the argument, but pauses when he sees the looks Grace is shooting all of them. Disappointed. He slumps back down in his chair and crosses his arms resentfully. 
“Klaus,” Grace says gently, “Why are the party hats so important to you?”
Klaus crosses his arms as well, looking at the table. “‘Cause it’s our birthday. An’ it’s our first birthday together for seventeen years. I just wanted it to be special, and we never got proper birthdays as kids.”
The table is silent for a minute before Diego sighs loudly and snatches up his previously discarded party hat and jams it on his head. “Happy now?” He demands gruffly. 
Klaus gives him a watery smile in response.
“Five?” Grace asks, “Why is it so important for you to not wear the party hat?”
Five shuffles in his seat, not making eye contact. “‘S childish and dumb.” He mutters under his breath, but the silence at the table means that it’s heard loud and clear. 
“Why?” Grace asks again, gently. 
“I’m not a child.” Five says, scowling at the surface of the table, “The others all want to - I dunno, vicariously live their childhoods through me or whatever but they don’t care that it’s not what I want. I’m not a kid and I don’t want to be childish.”
“Everyone else is wearing the dumb hats and none of us are kids,” Diego points out, rolling his eyes. The other faces at the table look a tiny bit more thoughtful. Allison’s is going through some interesting mental gymnastics in the corner. 
“None of you look like kids. It doesn’t matter if you’re childish or whatever because no one is going to mistake you guys for dumb kids.” Five scowls.
“But,” Grace interrupts, raising a finger, “Everyone here is well aware that your physical body does not match your mental state. So no one here would mistake you for a real child for partaking.”
“Except they do!” Five protests, voice cracking embarrassingly. But he forges on regardless, “They’re constantly treating me like a little kid! And every time we go out and someone says something they all tease me like it’s all one big joke to them, but this is my life! This is reality for me, and it sucks!”
Deafening silence follows this outburst. 
“Five…” Allison says, but the sentence doesn’t go anywhere. 
“You don’t have to wear the party hat.” Klaus offers after another beat of silence.
“It’s not about the stupid hat at this point, Klaus.” Diego hisses, elbowing Klaus none too gently. 
Grace holds up a hand and everyone quiets down. “Five,” She says, “Is it just the hat, or is it something else about all this that makes you feel childish.”
Five’s shoulders are up around his ears and he hunches down in his chair even further. “I dunno. The hat yeah. And the decorations. And the stupid paper plates. And the cake. It’s all just… stupid.”
“The birthday party itself is childish.” Grace clarifies. 
“Yeah I guess.” Five shrugs. “I mean, I haven’t celebrated my birthday since I was…”
“Since you were thirteen.” Grace supplies softly. 
Five can only shrug again. “I mean, I didn’t exactly know when I landed - only that it was after April 1st I guess. I only really counted like, summers and winters? Instead of months that is.  Because there weren’t months or days or whatever anymore. So it’s not like I knew whenever October 1st rolled around.”
“And the Commission?” Grace asks.
“The Commission was - ” Five frowns to himself, “It was timeless. There weren’t really seasons? And when I went on missions there were seasons but there weren’t constant seasons, or months, or days, or anything. I’d have a missions one day where it snowed and the next week I was sent somewhere in the height of summer. It was weird. I think they do it on purpose though, to keep everyone off balance.”
“So this is your first real October 1st in a very long time.” Grace nods sympathetically. “So, do you know what an adult birthday party looks like?”
Five pauses, frown deepening. “No one in the Commission celebrated their birthdays and they were adults.”
“But you’ve mentioned you didn’t socialize within the Commission,” Grace points out, “So isn’t it possible that there were birthday parties you just didn’t get invited to?”
“I guess.” Five concedes.
Grace presses on, “So isn’t it possible that all of this,” She gestures at the paper plates and the party hats and the cake she set down with the delicately frosted letters, “Is in fact typical of an adult birthday party and that key features between child and adult birthday parties don’t change?”
“Diego didn’t want to wear a hat.” Five maintains his stance.
Grace tilts her head, “Is Diego your role model for adult life, Five?”
Five instantly is sputtering out denials and the others are laughing into their hands. Diego, for his part, looks incredibly offended by the direction this conversation has taken. 
“If you had to pick one of your siblings to say who was the most adult,” Grace continues on easily, “Who would it be?”
Five actually looks thoughtful at the question. He looks up in thought before finally offering, “Vanya, I guess? She actually has a steady job. And a home. And she pays taxes.”
“Is Vanya wearing a hat?” 
Vanya is indeed still wearing her bright and colorful birthday hat. 
There’s a beat of silence, before - “Fine, I’ll wear the stupid hat. But if anyone says the words cute or adorable or young man or anything along those lines then I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”
“No one is going to treat you like a child today, Five.” Grace assures him, giving the rest of the family a look which there’s no arguing with. They sheepishly nod their heads in agreement, even though there was almost certainly teasing planned at the beginning of the day. 
Grace smiles benignly at her children and claps her hands, “In that case, it’s time for the cake! I have the candles here, though I’m afraid since there’s only one cake you’ll all simply have to blow out the candles together.”
The kids gather round as Grace dims the lights to make the fire of the candles stand out all the more brightly. Mercifully, the group as a whole elects to skip the birthday song since it’s pretty much everyone’s birthday.
“Make a wish!” Grace commands, stepping back. Without needing further prompting, the group leans forward to blow, and the candles flicker out as quickly as they were lit.
Diego brings out a knife and starts a debate to the side about whether his knives should be allowed to doubly function as food knives. Allison stands up so she can straighten Luther’s party hat where the earlier fight knocked it off kilter. Grace moves to stand behind Five, placing a kind hand on his shoulder.
He looks up at her, looking contemplative. “Aren’t wishes for children?” He asks her, even though he participated along with the rest of them.
“Wishes are for everyone.” Grace informs him with a smile, leaning down and and pressing a kiss against his forehead. He made a face at her, so reminiscent of when he was younger, but didn’t move to scrub the kiss away like he might have done back in those days. 
“Happy Birthday, Five.”
“Thanks, Mom.”
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jamesmarlowe · 4 years
Text
『ANTON THIEMKE ❙ CIS-MALE』 ⟿ looks like JAMES MARLOWE is here for HIS SENIOR year as a FINE ARTS student. He is 21 years old & known to be CLEVER, INVENTIVE, UNRELIABLE & EGOTISTICAL. They’re living in NOLAND, so if you’re there, watch out for them. ⬳ SLOTH. 25. EST. SHE/HER.
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hi hello welcome 2 my twisted mind ☺️ marlowe is a character i’m still fine-tuning bc he’s brand-new, so this is unfortunately.... a bit of a mess.... and mostly made up on the spot.... c’est la vie!!
(a late addition but u can also peep his weheartit collection here 4 some vibes)
his government name is james marlowe but he only goes by marlowe & only introduces himself as marlowe like he’s madonna or sting....  most ppl who know him (apart from like close friends) probably don’t even know what his first name is. maybe he doesn’t have one!
hails from Appalachia, specifically a trailer park in a poor-as-dirt stretch of Virginia where he was born n raised, baby. he’s Appalachian white trash and not afraid to admit it. marlowe’s very casual about his upbringing and his dumpster fire of a family (no less than three relatives are currently incarcerated, one of which is his older brother who’s probably serving a minor sentence for whatever dumb shit Tim Riggins got got for in FNL or like, selling illegal fireworks out of his trunk :/ ). the only thing he’s a little self-conscious about is his twang which he’s mostly suppressed by now, but other than that, he’s got no shame in where he comes from bc lbr no authentic artist ever came from money anyway!
born sandwiched in the middle of five siblings, marlowe’s always been wild and creative and impulsive, a loud-mouthed kid with too much to say for his own good, prone 2 getting in trouble but learning absolutely nothing from it. it was his mission in life to be Different from all the other kids who grew up where he grew up, with the way he talked, dressed, acted, because he knew that he was destined for bigger n better things so it was just a matter of getting other ppl to believe it, & then seeing how far a little talent and a lot of charisma would take him >:)
from age 8 onwards, he told people he was an “artist” and that became his primary identity. when he was 16 he completed an independent sculpture project (called “Skyscraper”) where he constructed a 20-foot tower made out of junk collected from around the trailer park and then glued Barbies n other dolls all clawing over each other to get to the top, smack dab in the middle of Main Street and refused to take it down even when the local fire department showed up 2 threaten him with fines. it did eventually get taken down bc it was ‘structurally unsound’ and someone nearly got concussed by a falling mannequin head, but at least it got some attention from local newspapers and w/ that as the crown jewel in his portfolio, marlowe got into a few different art/liberal arts schools the following year. radcliffe was the only one who offered a partial scholarship and the east coast sounded nice n far from home, so anyways lets go ✈️ college 
FAST FORWARD its senior year babey and marlowe’s been making the most of his time here at radcliffe. he’s a fine arts major but specializes in mixed media sculptures (and probably is really shit at most of his other classes, like art theory where u actually have to read textbooks? still life drawing? boring. yawn. won’t do it.) his entire profile as an artist i’m cribbing from Rachel Harrison bc I saw her exhibition at the whitney a little while ago and her sculptures made me go ?????¿¿¿¿¿ which i think is exactly the kind of bizarre nonsense that marlowe is going for with his “art”. feast your eyes on these masterpieces. the joke of it all is that marlowe is the first to admit that his art isn’t like.... good. but his philosophy is that if people respond to it & praise it like it’s art, then by definition, it’s art. and if it gets him places (like it got him onto Cultured Magazine’s “30 Young Artists To Watch This Decade″ list), then yeehaw!
When he’s not busy creating new monstrosities, marlowe takes one fat nap per day (usually at a time when he has class) and is otherwise a very social creature who needs constant attention. he’s got a lot of friends and is always looking to make more, not in a #fake way but just as a person who genuinely likes being around people. he very quickly gets bored if left on his own, so he’s prone to following people around campus like a stray cat regardless of whether or not they tell him to shoo. he dorms at Noland but is almost always found in other houses, often crashing in other people’s rooms (needs to be close to his friends or He’ll Die), and he definitely frequents parties, bc marlowe never passes up an opportunity to drink other people’s booze and get a lil messy and Chaotic. he’s [jim halpert voice] not a slut, but who knows? he’s kinda a slut! he’s also definitely pulled another stunt similar to Skyscraper by taking over the quad for a guerrilla art installation with his sculptures (and without the school’s permission oops) which may be the basis for some connections if ppl know him from that particular exploit!!
in summary..... marlowe can be a bit up his own ass at times, but being around him is generally a Good Time bc he’s easy-going and friendly and always down for anything, always. litcherally zero impulse control so nothing gets in the way of a dumb idea that might potentially make for a good story. perhaps he’s not the most reliable person, so don’t expect a prompt text back if ur in a life or death situation, and he doesn’t care very much about anything, so ur setting urself up for disappointment if you do expect him to care about something (the fact that he’s never been in a long-term relationship... very telling). all he wants to do is just have! fun all the time! he’s trying to scam his way into the American Dream with his dumb art, so that he can live a good life and maybe get rich and famous and eventually party at Art Basel in Miami with Frank Ocean! is that really so much to ask!
appearance: marlowe’s very vain and a lot of thought goes into his appearance even when (especially when) it doesn’t look like he’s done anything but roll straight out of bed. all of his outfits are as outrageous as his sculptures are ugly. think mismatched prints and loud colors, silk shirts gaping open like he got tired after the first three buttons, a pawn’s shop worth of jewelry, weird dangly earrings w/ feathers or tiny charms, tinted yellow or pink sunglasses, sometimes a bandana around his neck, just for extra flavor. his hair always has to look perfectly tousled; u can catch him checking out his reflection in pretty much every mirrored surface. at least half the surface area of his body is covered in tattoos & he’ll suggest getting more during every drunken night out, which... is why he has so many by now!
connections: to be quite honest its 2 am and i feel all of my higher brain functions shutting down so i’m gonna make these very simple n straightforward, but we can always workshop!!!! pls feel free to message me even if none of these strike ur fancy :0)
peers in the arts - friends, acquaintances, rivals, probably some former group project members holding a grudge....
fellow party animals who don’t mind sharing when marlowe inevitably mooches off their alcohol and drugs :)
unlikely friends!!!!! it’d be fun to have a friendship dynamic with someone who’s very different from him!!
a roommate in Noland... possibly one he’s not on good terms w/... even tho marlowe hardly EVER sleeps in his own dorm room, he uses it as a storage locker for all his “found” art materials. i can imagine that living in that mess would try the limits of anyone’s sanity :)  
enemies - they can hate his whole Genius Artist shtick and they’d be valid :/
fellow insomniacs! marlowe is very much a night owl (regular naps during the day may be 2 blame but oh well) so he needs a fellow nocturnal to hit up the late-night McDonald’s drive thru with him and then lay on the grass lookin at the stars and contemplating life’s great mysteries while eating chicken mcnuggets 
exes - idk if u can even call them tht when his past “relationships” have all had a lifespan of six weeks or less, but hey there’s drama in that too!!
fwb - i don’t think marlowe’s the type 2 be juggling too many fwb/hook-ups at one time simply because That’s A Lot of Work. that being said... he never likes to sleep alone ;) 
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svtntntn · 6 years
Text
signed, sealed, delivered!
hogwarts student!seungkwan
(hufflepuff!seungkwan x beauxbatons student!you)
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seungkwan is one of the kindest and loudest boys in the entire castle
he's in the frog choir with seokmin and jeonghan
constantly hangs out with ravenclaw student hansol in the great hall or around the frog choir room
love love loves his transfiguration class
accidentally turned wonwoo into a cat and he has a scratch on his forearm from him:’(
hates his herbology class bc he accidentally overfed his plant oranges and it bit him for nearly killing him:;(((
pls protect this sweet sweet boy
he’s also one of the student commentator for all the quidditch matches and always proudly dresses in his house colors
plays theme music for each team even when it's not allowed
if the madam hooch cuts off the music, he will sing the theme music for each team himself
he comes from a muggle family and every month he handwrites his mother and father and sisters letters:’)
bc he does get homesick a lot being all the way at hogwarts
but they’re not the only ppl he writes to
you're a student from the beauxbatons academy of magic in france and you and seungkwan exchange handwritten letters every couple weeks or so
per your letters, you also made guidelines to not send each other photos of each other or any voice letters to not ruin the element of surprise and old fashion-ness of it all
you were connected through a pen pal system for the international relations class between the two schools and after the assignment you kept in contact bc you love talking to one another
seungkwan writes just like he talks, meaning that his letters are always pages long leaving no stone unturned as he talks about his friends, his family, and his life at hogwarts
you love how he embellishes every story he writes with so much detail and how much he writes about his friends and family, especially about his mother
you can tell he has a very big heart and he isn't afraid to wear his heart on his sleeve
seungkwan writes how he was granted a solo to sing at the winter break celebration and how it’s one of his favorite songs ever and you can tell through his words (and the spilled ink on the page) how excited he is
so you decide to break the rules a little
"I know we promised not to send voice letters, but I really want to hear you sing!" you write, "It’s okay if you don’t want to, no pressure. I’d just love to hear you sing someday:)"
seungkwan swears he didn’t scream in the owlery, but the clumps of feathers on his robes say otherwise
"she wants me to sing for her! what do I do? should I send her a voice letter? what if it gets lost, what if she hates it, what if—"
"what if she likes your voice? have you thought about that?" hansol interrupts as he pulls his headphone out of his ears
seokmin agrees with a nod, "and your letter won't get lost in the mail, we have wizard mail! it's fast and dependable and I'm sure (y/n) will love your voice"
and during the month, seungkwan is set on recording something for you
he starts recording in his room or in the frog choir room when he’s alone and when he does, he stops half-way bc he thinks his pitch is off or the mic is too close to his mouth
or sometimes he stops bc he’s not even sure you’re gonna like his singing
"c’mon seungkwan! I bet she’s dreaming right now of you serenading her with this song!" hansol is hyping him up and even conjures a poster to boost his confidence
"please, finish this recording so I can go. I’ve played just the intro 50 times for you already" jihoon mutters from the piano bench, already bunching his robes into a ball so he can lay his head on them
"why is jihoon playing the piano for you?"
seungkwan grins, "it adds to the overall effect, the song sounds 10 times better with live piano, duh"
jihoon groans again, "can I leave now?"
"nO… please"
when seungkwan finally finishes recording something he’s proud of, he prepares to mail out both his paper letter and his voice letter to you, his hands shaky before he depositing them in the mailbox
while he waits for your next letter to arrive, this bub is a nervous wreck inside, but he plays it cool on the outside
he prefers taking the longest route back to the dormitories, meaning that he walks all the way to the owlery after muggle studies to see if there's any new letters before going all the way back down to the hufflepuff common room
about two weeks later, seungkwan gets a letter from you!! and bc he's so nervous to open it and see what you have to say, he makes his house prefect joshua read it
bc everything joshua says is good and positive and even if you hurt his feelings, it won't sound bad coming from joshua's voice
"'dear seungkwan…'" joshua scans the page quietly before reading aloud to find the section talking about seungkwan's singing, as to keep things private between you two
"'why didn't you tell me you were such a good singer! you're not pranking me or anything, right? that is your own voice? I can't believe you! I'm so upset but in a very good way because you sing so well, and I almost teared up and—'" joshua pauses, "and then she writes a bunch of random letters but crosses them out and draws a happy but angry face?"
seungkwan takes back your letter and genuinely smiles, his eyes wandering over the splattered ink and scratches on the parchment, "thanks joshua!"
he leaves joshua's side floating on cloud nine million:)
he's literally floating
towards the end of the year and in honor of all the peace and harmony in the wizarding world, hogwarts decides to open its doors to its neighboring schools for a grand celebration
meaning that the other wizardry schools are all coming to hogwarts for the end of the year festivities
meaning that the beauxbaton academy of magic is one of the schools visiting hogwarts
meaning "(y/n) IS VISITING!! (y/n) IS COMING TO HOGWARTS!!"
seungkwan’s running around the castle in pure delight as he holds the flyer cautioning students of the scheduled arrivals of the visiting schools
all the schools are to be welcomed in the great hall with a feast and performances from the frog choir
meaning the moment you step in hogwarts, you're gonna be able to see and hear him!!
and bc he's singing a solo song for the welcoming feast, seungkwan's nervous and scared as hell
even more nervous when seungcheol and chan agreed to teach him how play quidditch
even more nervous when he first left jeju island for hogwarts his first year
but in the letter he gets a week before you're scheduled to come to hogwarts, you tell him not to fret or worry (bc you know by now that he's gonna internally fuss over everything) and that you can't wait to meet him and spend time with him
and that motivates him to count down the days even more:)
as seungkwan stands at the front of the great hall with the rest of the frog choir, there's a sea of pale blue uniforms that makes it way to the front of the tables, all the beauxbaton students rippling down like waves when you all sit down
and that's when seungkwan realizes he doesn't even know what you look like, so he can't even point you out in the sea of students
and that's when you realize the exact same thing, but at least you know seungkwan is one of the guys up at the very front
headmaster mcgonagall begins her welcoming speech and following announcements to you and your classmates before turning it over to the frog choir with a proud flourish
you constantly teeter left and right to clearly see the choir members as they sing, but your vision is mostly blocked by your upperclassmen
when the songs change, you immediately recognize the voice singing the solo and you gasp, "it's seungkwan!"
your friend mark gives you a questioning look, but you ignore it and lean towards his shoulder to see the group
you have to sit up straighter to see a charmingly cute boy with blonde hair singing his heart out in the front of the hall
and you don’t even second-guess it, you know it’s the same boo seungkwan you’ve been exchanging letters with for months
you've listened to his voice letter a million times over and over again to know his voice like the back of your hand
your heart melts at the sight of seungkwan thriving in the spotlight, his powerful voice commanding your attention with such fervor
your eyes are focused on only him and when his solo is finished, you clap and cheer as loud as you can, catching seungkwan’s attention and making him flustered when he locks eyes with you
the feast commences and you can’t help but peer around for your pen pal as you sit in the crowded benches but there's too many ppl in the room to really look
when the headmasters announce the sleeping arrangements and such, you decide to set out for seungkwan as more and more students walk past you
"don’t wait up for me!" you call to your friends, who all give you confused looks
you get to the front of the hall when you notice all the frog choir students talking in clumps with their frogs in their arms
you tap the handsome boy’s shoulder, "hi uh, you’re seungkwan—you’re boo seungkwan, right?"
he politely nods, "yes that’s me, do I know you?" he turns to you and takes in your beauxbatons uniform before making the connection in his head
you smile widely, "I’m—"
"(Y/N)! oh mY GOSH," seungkwan wraps you up in a giant hug and spins you around
"you were the girl who cheered so loud for seungkwan after he sang!" seokmin notes as his frog croaks in his arms
"guilty" you smile and seungkwan honestly has the biggest heart eyes for you
he goes ahead and starts introducing you to his friends and he gets lost when he’s trying to show you where you’re supposed to be staying at in the castle bc he's just so enamoured by you!!
every morning for the festivities, seungkwan always finds you and eats breakfast with you, becoming his usual chatterbox self and introducing himself to your friends and telling you story after story
like the time jeonghan and peeves pranked mingyu and wonwoo on their way to potions and mingyu didn't speak to wonwoo for a week bc he thought it wonwoo who was messing with him
or when seokmin nearly cried when hagrid had him feed a hippogriff during their care of magical creatures class
or when he completely and utterly failed at quidditch
he adores showing you around hogwarts
boo seungkwan is your personal tour guide!!
he even sneaks you into the quidditch commentator’s box to show you the view of the pitch
hogsmeade visits are his favorite!!
he loves going into the candy shop the most
buys two of everything so you have an array of choices and makes you sample everything, "ok these are my favorite candies, you have to try them!"
"that’s what you said about the first one"
"they’re all my favorites, here try this one" he begins shoving another one into your hand to eat
he loves listening to you talk about beauxbatons and your life there
seungkwan gives you his full, undivided attention with his chin in the palm of his hands
when you and him walk around, seungkwan lets you put your arm through his and you stroll along the street together
your classmates all stare at you and whisper bc they think you’re dating now
and seungkwan’s tense about ppl whispering bc he used to be bullied for being a ‘mudblood’ during his first year, so he hates the whispers and quiet murmurs
but you don’t pay attention to the whispers bc you don’t even realize they’re talking about you two
bc you’re just so focused on him and you comfort him and tell him to focus on you and the beautiful spring day in front of you
it makes seungkwan feel 10 times better and his heart soars even higher bc of you
"for you," seungkwan picks a flower from a florist’s shop and twirls it in his hand before handing it to you, a small pink tinge on his cheeks
you two go back to hogwarts in the best mood possible
your friends start to tease you about dating seungkwan but you just say you and him are just super close friends
bc you technically are, and knowing seungkwan, you know he’d never make the first move, so you decide to take the leap
"so seungkwan?" he nods and you decide now or never, "are you going to the end of the year dance with anyone?"
he shrugs and he continues walking, "not really, I usually go with hansol and seokmin to the dances, and that’s because I sing at the dance too, so no"
"oh, that’s cool" it is so not cool and you think seungkwan is oblivious as to what you’re getting at
but he doesn’t say anything else bc he’s already speculating that you’ve already been asked out
bc he also overheard your friends saying some hogwarts upperclassmen wanted to ask you out
bc you’re beautiful!! and funny!! and caring!! and super considerate and genuine!!
who wouldn’t want to ask you to the dance:’(
so seungkwan avoids talking about the dance and bc you can tell he doesn’t want to talk about it, you don't
he says he’s just stressed from exams and frog choir practices bc seungkwan is asked to sing something at the dance and of course, he obliges per usual
but he’s not sure if he wants to sing if it means seeing you dance with someone else
but he agrees to sing still bc he promised to and he doesn’t want to disappoint anyone
and the night of the dance, he’s rushing to the great hall bc he overslept after commentating on the last quidditch match of the season 
and when he spots hansol by the punch bowl, he notices someone else in a beautiful, breathtaking gown next to him
his eyes widen when he realizes it’s you and he becomes a flustered mess, "h-hi! (y/n), you look—" seungkwan stutters over his words and you’re taken aback by all his compliments
"thank you seungkwan, you look very, very handsome yourself" you take the time to admire him in his clean and crisp suit
seungkwan shakes his head, "where’s your date? wait, is hansol your date?" his heart slightly breaks but it mends itself when hansol and you furiously shake your heads
"no no no, he’s not my date—no offense hansol," hansol chuckles and takes his cue to leave you two alone and you smile, "I don’t have a date"
"wHAT? why? did someone turn you down? because if so—" this boy is prepared to duel someone for you but you stop him from stomping off
"I was actually hoping you’d dance with me, and be my date..." 
seungkwan turns around several times and points to himself in disbelief, "m-me? you want me to be your date?"
you breathe out a "yes! what’s so hard to believe about that?"
"oh, uh..." seungkwan starts to list a bunch of reasons but you stop him before he can even say a another one
"that’s no way to talk about yourself, seungkwan. you’re amazing and handsome and funny and so kind-hearted and I want you and just you to be my date, so please be mine? m-my date, of course"
he takes your hand and wraps it with his own, "I’d be honored to"
you and him dance with hansol and seokmin the whole time, the upbeat music perfect for your lack of dance experience
when you and him are resting and drinking punch, jihoon calls him over to the stage, "seungkwan! it’s your turn to sing"
seungkwan forgot he had to sing the whole time being with you and he apologizes, "I’m so sorry, I forgot I have to go up"
"no no, go ahead! I’ll be waiting for you"
he kisses the back of your hand and leaves you with your punch with a lingering smile
before he goes up on stage, he whispers something to jihoon and then takes the stage
seungkwan locks eyes with you and he mouths "this is dedicated to you" before queuing jihoon to play the piano
and it’s the same song he sang for you in the very first voice letter
and bc it’s a love song and it’s the very first song you’ve ever heard him sing, you start tearing up
and even though you’re standing by yourself, you can feel seungkwan’s love wrap around you as he pours such emotion and power into his singing
you hug him the moment he steps off the stage and he nearly is knocked over by the force of it, "I did well, I’m guessing?"
"you made me cry, so yes mission accomplished"
"noooo, it's never my mission to make you cry, what are you talking about!"
when jihoon sings another slow song next, seungkwan dances with you on the outskirts of the dance floor, his soft singing making you smile
when he’s walking you back to your quarters, his jacket is around your shoulders and you’re super sleepy and you’re leaning on his chest
you just want to stay with seungkwan in this moment and he sits the two of you down on one of the white marble staircases 
which is so one of the magical moving staircases in hogwarts, but seungkwan honestly forgets that
your eyes are closed and you look so peaceful and seungkwan leans closer to try and shift you more on his shoulder but the staircase starts moving directions and that’s when he accidentally kisses you
you wake up startled bc huh?? was that just your dream or did he really kiss you??
and seungkwan stands up and he’s panicking bc it was an accident and he didn’t mean to steal a kiss from you
but you calm him down and tell him it’s alright bc you really like him and you don’t mind stealing a couple kisses every so often 
you wrap your hand in his and he squeezes your hand back, kissing your hand before leaning into you and placing a soft kiss on your lips
and that’s the magical story of how you and seungkwan got together
thanks to a bunch of handwritten letters, peaceful magical relations, a song dedicated to you, and a magical moving staircase:’)
<3
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wokeupinawalnut · 6 years
Text
Like an Angel
Request: Hiya! If your requests are still open, may i request a shuri x winged!reader, where she’s part of the avengers and they bring her with them to Wakanda, where Shuri goes all nerd on her bc she’s never seen a winged person before so she does a lot of tests on her and it’s all just really fluffy and they’re like crushing on each other since the moment the met. I’m a hopeless romantic lmao Ps, I love the way you write Shuri!
Note: I love writing for Shuri and I enjoyed this request so much :) I hope this is hopelessly romantic enough for you ;) Enjoy! <3
Warnings: This is just a fluff overload, please don’t sue me if you get cavities from all the sweetness xD
Pairing: shuri x reader
Words: 2.598
Masterlist
“Y/N, Mr. Stark is asking for you to hurry up.” The voice of the towers AI disturbed the sound of shuffling at cursing in your room.
“I know, I know… Just tell him I’ll be there in a sec.”
“Of course. You might want to know that your charging pad is in the upper left drawer of your desk.”
You turned around abruptly knocking down several of the items on your shelf. “Damn it,” you muttered. Otherwise you didn’t spare the now on the floor lying objects any attention.
“Yes! Thank you, FRIDAY! You’re the best!”
“You’re welcome, Y/N. Now you should really go to the quinjet, the other team members seem to be losing their patience.”
You took the warning of the AI pretty serious, you didn’t want the avengers to leave without you… so you simply threw the charging pad on top of the other things in your bag, zipped it shut and ran to the elevators.
You had spent half of the day packing your things for your trip to Wakanda, you were so nervous and excited that you just couldn’t decide what to take with you, you wanted to impress the people after all, okay maybe not people… just one person to be honest…
Just last week king T’Challa had invited the avengers to visit his country and Steve and Tony had offered you to accompany them, a decision they with no doubt already regretted…
“There you are…” you were greeted by Natasha who tried to chide you but failed to hide a smile at the sight of you. Your hair was tousled from crawling through your room, but what amused her the most was that you forgot your shoes.
“What’s so funny?” you inquired while boarding the quinjet.
“Nothing… I just didn’t know socks have gotten so trendy…”
Wide eyed you looked down at your feet only to be met with the sight of your socks, embarrassingly enough they had little astronauts displayed on them, before you could run to get yourself a pair of sneakers the ramp closed and the pilot started the jet.
“Don’t worry, N/N. I’m sure they sell shoes in Wakanda and I myself think your footwear is quite fashionable…” Tony teased you, as he took a seat next to you he laid an arm around your shoulder.
The rest of the team laughed making you cross your arms over your chest and a pout appear on your face.
“I hate you,” you mumbled.
“You don’t,” Wanda grinned at you from the seat on the opposite side of you.
“Yes, Y/N, without us you would have missed the chance to take part on this trip…” Steve said.
“You all seem to work together just fine, when it comes to teasing poor kids…”
“Yeah, you’re right,” Tony said, “Poor, poor Y/N…”
You quickly wiped the grin off his face as you extended one of your wings successfully knocking him off his seat. As the team burst out in laughter you looked down at Tony smirking.
“You were saying, tin can?”
The rest of the flight had been calmer, soft chattering had filled the quinjet, everyone was quite excited to lay eyes on the legendary Wakanda. To say that your expectations had been exceled was an understatement; the breath had caught in your throat as you first saw the outline of the country’s capital and from the expression on the other’s faces they were having the same thoughts.
Soon enough the quinjet landed and you exited it wearing a long trench coat, the sight of your wings was a bit much for some people at first and you also definitely didn’t wish to stand in the spotlight. You were greeted by a few Dora Milaje, the king himself and his sister your gaze lingered a bit longer on the princess, she was breathtaking. She stood with her head held high a small smile on her lips, when your eyes met you quickly looked down, you didn’t mean to stare after all…
T’Challa greeted everyone with a broad smile, he shook Tony and Cap’s hands and waited for the rest to be introduced to him. Of course he knew them all, you snorted, formalities… Well, he didn’t know you…
“And this is Y/N,” Steve placed a hand on your shoulder and you smiled shyly at everyone, “They are new to the team, but already very valuable to us.” He smiled proudly.
“Well, nice to meet you, Y/N.” You and the king shook hands. “This are Okoye and my sister Shuri. Would you all follow me inside, I guess, you’ll all like to see your rooms before we start a little tour…”
You went into the palace, T’Challa and Steve at the front followed by Okoye, Nat and Tony and then the rest of you. You were at the very end of the party, but without you noticing Shuri had let herself fall back so you walked side by side.
“So, what’s your super power,” she asked grinning contagiously.
“Well, I don’t exactly have one, to be honest, just a rather useful mutation…” you explained.
“Will you show me?”
“Maybe…” you smiled.
Shuri’s gaze trailed down and suddenly she halted in her steps. “What are THOOSEE?” She knelt down and admired your socks. As all the others turned around to see the cause of Shuri’s outburst you hid your face in your hands. T’Challa grinned, most of the avengers burst out laughing and Okoye just looked outright confused, but soon a smile also appeared on her lips.
“Shuri, your holding everything up!” her brother chided and when the others turned to proceed, Shuri took one of your hands and pulled you along.
“I think they are cute,” she said, “but if you are looking for a pair of shoes, I’ve got one in my lab, if you want to I can take you there��”
Shyly you nodded. “That would be awesome.”
Shuri bit down on her lip to prevent her grin from growing bigger and guided you back to the others. At first you didn’t understand why everybody was grinning so smugly at the both of you, but following their gazes you noticed that you were still holding the princess’ hand. You both were quick to jump apart. You rubbed your neck flustered.
“Well, I guess we see each other in an hour…” T’Challa concluded, “Shuri, maybe you can show Y/N their room?”
“Yeah, of course, if that’s alright with them,” she added with a side glance at you.
“That would be nice, I bet I’d get lost otherwise anyway…”
Shuri and you turned to a floor to the left of you, after a few minutes you heard her brother call after you: “And don’t dally!”
The room in which you would be staying was gorgeous and it was just next to Shuri’s! She said on your bed toying with some figurine that had stood on the bedside table. Without thinking about it you shrugged out of your coat and placed it on one of the chairs in your room. The sound of something hitting the ground lead you to turn around hastily, wings spread in a defensive stand. You relaxed as you saw that it had just been Shuri who had let the figurine fall, she now looked at you, mouth slightly open and eyes wide.
You felt a bit nervous as Shuri looked you up and down, but when she broke into a blinding smile, it eased away. She got up and stepped a bit closer to you, she seemed as if she wanted to reach out to touch your white feathered wings, you signaled with a nod that it was alright and she gently stroked over the feathers, they bristled under her soft touch.
“They are beautiful,” she breathed and looked up at you her gaze full of awe. “I mean they are amazing. Like angel wings…” She walked around you inspecting the wings closely. You wore a backless top so she could see the onset of the wings, slowly she let a finger trail the line were shoulder turned into wing. You shivered under her touch, leading her to take her hand away quickly and apologized.
“It’s fine,” you whispered.
Shuri had rounded you once and again stood in front of you, she tore her gaze from your wings which she was lingeringly touching and looked into your eyes. You noticed just now how close you were to each other. “Would you mind if- if I took a closer look at them,” you tensed at her request, usually it didn’t end well when people wanted to ‘take a closer look’ at your wings, “Only if it’s alright with you, of course, I mean I totally understand if you don’t want to. It’s just- you have wings.”
You relaxed as you saw Shuri geek out over your mutation, she was so adorable. “Okay,” you nodded. You knew Shuri didn’t want to and wouldn’t cause you any harm.
Her face lit up. “Really?!” she squealed in excitement, you chuckled. “Okay, so we better go to my lab, there’s more room and I can save the data better from there, my equipment is also over-“
“Don’t we need to meet up with the others?” you interrupted her grinning.
“What? No. I’ll show you around later, I’m way funnier guide than my brother, believe me. So, we need to go to the hangar…” Shuri grabbed your hand and pulled you to the door.
“We don’t exactly need to take a plane, you know…” you wiggled with your eyebrows.
Shuri’s jaw dropped. “You mean-“ You nodded. “Oh Bastet, this is the best day of my life.”
The princess broke into a run pulling you through the long corridors and through the entrance hall where your team mates and T’Challa were waiting for you two.
“We won’t join you, brother. Have fun!” Shuri yelled shortly before you exited the building, missing the knowing glances they all exchanged.
“Shuri! You have to stop, I can’t start flying like this…” you scolded her playfully and she halted.
“Sorry.” She grinned sheepishly, still jumping up and down in excitement so that you had to put your hands on her shoulders to get her to calm down. Keeping your hands there you walked around her and moved your arms so that you were holding her around her waist.
“Hold on,” you warned and then started batting your wings getting you up in the air. The view like this was amazing and you were incredibly happy to have agreed to this. “Okay, just tell me where to go.”
“Straight ahead, actually.” You felt Shuri’s laughter vibrate through your chest making your heart flutter. “This is so-“ she shook her head at the loss of words, “I’m the queen of the world!” she yelled and then broke into a fit of giggles, luckily you had such a tight grasp on her that she didn’t fall.
You chuckled. “Careful, there. Isn’t it like treason to call that if you are a potential heiress to the throne?” You could basically feel Shuri roll her eyes.
Only a minute later you reached a cliff where the labs lay, gently you landed on the platform. Your feet had just touched the ground when Shuri engulfed you in a hug.
“That was amazing, thank you so much!”
“No, problem, you can return the favour by showing me your lab, I bet even Tony would grow incredibly jealous at the sight of it… No, let me correct that; especially Tony.”
“You can bet your ass on it,” she winked at you and began to lead you into her private kingdom.
You gaped at the sight that presented itself to you, everywhere you looked you could find some kind of high-tech gadget. Shuri left you shortly leaving you to turn in circles drinking everything in. Soon she returned with a pair of shoe soles. She laid them down in front of you.
“I still had a promise to fulfill after all…” she grinned, “Step on them.”
You did as you were told and soon a shoe wrapped around each of your feet. “Wow.” You breathed.
“Right? And they are completely soundproof,” you tested her claim by stomping with your feet just to proof that she told the truth, “Guess what I call them… Sneakers.”
You couldn’t help it. You broke into a fit of giggles.
“Finally!” Shuri threw her arms in the air, “That was the reaction I wanted!”
You walked around a bit trying out your new shoes. “Okay, what now?”
“Well, I thought about starting with the basics… Wing spread, endurance and such…”
“Alright, let’s go for it!”
You had to admit you never had so much fun in your life as in those two hours with Shuri. Not only did you get the possibility to try out incredible equipment, you also spent time with the most wonderful person you have ever met. You had just tried out how fast you could fly outside with the help of special sensors Shuri had developed and now you sat next to each other on one of the lab tables. Your wings were folded neatly behind your back but Shuri kept admiring them anyway, she stroked one once again. The wing twitched under her side and the princess broke into a grin.
“Are you ticklish, Y/N?” your eyes widened at her question and you hurriedly jumped down from the table arms held out defensively.
“Don’t you dare, Shuri…”
“Don’t I dare what?” she smirked, “Don’t I dare do this?”
Faster than you could look Shuri jumped at you, knocking you down. With one hand she pinned your hands above your head and started to tickle you with the other. You squirmed and wriggled underneath her but there was no escaping from the princess. Since you couldn’t use your hands to help you, you wrapped your wings around her and managed to roll you over.
“My turn,” you grinned and started to tickle her. You were sure you had never heard something as beautiful as her laughter.
After a few minutes and changes of who held the upper hand you laid on the floor facing each other completely out of breath. Your wings still held you in a kind of cocoon, noticing how close you were because of it you attempted to pull them back but Shuri held out her hand.
“Don’t,” she whispered. You nodded in surprise.
So you stayed in that position, noses nearly touching drinking in the details of each other’s faces. Simultaneously both of you leaned in to close the tiny gap between you. Your lips brushed against each other in a delicate kiss. You raised your arm to cup her nape and draw her closer, Shuri in return let her hand rest on your waist. Things were about to get more heated when the clear of a throat lead you to break apart hastily. You both rolled onto your backs looking up wide eyed at Okoye who grinned down at you, arms crossed over her chest.
“The king asks for you to join him and the avengers for dinner… But I suppose I could tell him you’re too busy…”
Shuri sat up abruptly. “No, it’s fine, we’ll be there in a sec.”
The Dora raised an eyebrow but refrained from saying anything else and left you alone again.
The princess helped you get to your feet but instead of letting go she pulled you into a short kiss.
“Tomorrow we should dine alone…” she whispered against your lips as you broke apart.
“We definitely should.”
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akaluan · 6 years
Note
So - remember that one idea about Erich turning into a dragon? I was suddenly reminded of an old idea I had about Kisuke being turned into a phoenix, and now I just can't get RID of the mental image of Erich in falconry gear (he is/was a European Von, he might have had some experience with the spot!), with a phoenix!Kisuke perched on a falconry glove.
Part 1 | Part 2 | ????
((Honestly, Erich in falconry gear? A++ mental image, though he probably never flew a bird as heavy as a phoenix would be XD
I’ll probably write more of this, especially Kisuke learning to fly and Erich Actually With Falconry Gear, bc whoops, this settled on being before that actual point happened.
And, like the dragon one, PROBABLY NOT CANON to Lilacs XD But it’s super fun to imagine things like this!))
“Well, you certainly make for a beautiful bird,” Erich said as he looked down at the bird that had replaced Kisuke.
Kisuke fluffed his crimson feathers and gave him an imperious look. “Of course I do,” he managed to say. “The idea that I could be anything but..!”
Erich chuckled and knelt, peering closer at Kisuke. “So what brought this on?” he asked, eyeing the sharp talons and beak thoughtfully. He’d need falconry equipment — or something akin to falconry equipment — if he wanted to handle Kisuke like this. “Please tell me you weren’t playing with that old spell you found— Kisuke!” Erich scowled at the sheepish look Kisuke managed to give him. “I told you to leave that one be unless I was around!”
“He doesn’t often listen to warnings like that,” Yoruichi piped up from the table where she was perched.
“I see you did nothing to convince him otherwise, either,” Erich said. “And for that, I think you should go and find me the gear I need.” He sat back on his heels and gave Yoruichi a stern look. “I need a falconer’s glove, thickest you can find, and for sizing…” Erich lifted his left hand and considered it, dredging his memory for the measurements he needed, before rattling them off. “Slightly larger is fine. Don’t go smaller. Preferably one that goes to the shoulder. And a perch of about four inches in diameter.”
“Why do you need those?” Yoruichi asked, leaning forward to peer down at them.
“For the perch, Kisuke’s going to need somewhere to sit comfortably,” Erich told her. “The glove is because there’s no way to carry him without his talons cutting me.”
Yoruichi scoffed and flicked her tail. “He should just fly, then.”
“Yes, that will go over well.” Erich gave her a dry look, then focused back on Kisuke, who had been ignoring them in favor of examining himself. “Kisuke, if you could spread your wings for me, love?”
Kisuke tilted his head, then obligingly fanned out his wings as far as they would go.
Erich leaned forward, marveling at the colors on display. Kisuke’s feathers were like a sunset, all beautiful reds and oranges and golds, and tiny sparks showered from his feathers with every movement.
(A phoenix of legend, right before his eyes.)
(His fingers itched to touch.)
“He won’t make it through the doors,” Erich said after giving himself a mental shake and estimating his lover’s wingspan. “Nor the hallway. And most raptors prefer not to walk very far, they’re not particularly designed for it.”
“Fiiiine.” Yoruichi made a disgruntled noise and leapt from the table, landing with an audible /thud/ to show her displeasure. “I suppose I can run your errands for you.”
“And tell Tessai-san to purchase some raw chicken or fish on your way out, would you?” Erich called after her, then laughed softly at her annoyed yowl.
“She’s going to be furious at you for days,” Kisuke informed him, folding his wings back and sending another shower of sparks everywhere.
Erich shrugged. “Then I’ll bribe my way back into her good graces. More importantly, let’s get you off the floor.”
He glanced around the lab and made a pleased noise when he spotted a discarded blanket, then rose to fetch it. Erich folded it several times, then gave it a couple turns around his lower arm; hardly suited for anything long term, but for lifting Kisuke from the floor it would be acceptable.
Just to be sure, though, Erich activated blut vene down his left arm; he’d rather not have Kisuke tear his arm to shreds on accident. He knelt in front of Kisuke again and extended his blanket-covered arm, “Here, step up.”
“Your arm—”
“Blut vene,” Erich told Kisuke kindly. “I wouldn’t want to try carrying you around the shoten like this, but I’m just moving you up to the table.”
Kisuke cautiously shuffled forward and stepped up, talons sinking through the fabric till the tips were pressed against Erich’s arm. He was going to need to use blut vene even /with/ the falconer’s glove, Erich suspected; Kisuke’s talons were sharper than he’d expected.
“Alright, I’m going to brace you against my chest,” Erich warned, free hand coming up to press against Kisuke’s overly warm — and exceedingly soft! — back. At Kisuke’s agreeable noise, Erich carefully drew his arm in, till Kisuke was loosely pinned in place, then rose to his feet. A couple of steps to the nearest table, and Erich turned and held out his arm for Kisuke to step down.
He discarded the blanket as soon as Kisuke was settled on the table, then dragged over a chair and sat down. “A phoenix out of legend, trust you to turn yourself into something like that,” he murmured, reaching out to gently run his fingers over Kisuke’s breast feathers.
“I’m just that good,” Kisuke said, feathers fluffing up and crest rising. “Why the raw chicken or fish, though?”
“To feed you, of course.”
“I thought phoenix didn’t eat meat?” Kisuke tilted his head, then let out a soft /chrrrr/ when Erich began to scratch at the base of his crest. “Oh, yes. Right there. That feels good.”
“Differing depictions. You, however, have the talons and beak of an eagle. I’m not going to try feeding you anything but meat,” Erich said firmly. He continued to gently scratch Kisuke, nails picking at tiny bits of feather-sheath that remained around the base of the quills.  “I’m hopeful I can have this undone tonight, but it’s best to be prepared.”
“You know a lot about birds.”
Erich laughed and brushed away the bits of pale gold sheath, then smoothed his hand down Kisuke’s back. “Only raptors, really. My family was landed nobility for /generations/, Kisuke, it’s why my name is /von/ Rerugen. There are certain expectations that come with that position, and one of them is at least a passing knowledge of falconry.”
“Only a passing knowledge?” Kisuke asked teasingly as he spread his wings and flapped them experimentally, sending sparks swirling through the air. He gave a small hop and flapped harder, rising a couple inches before falling back to the table and huffing in disappointment.
“Alexis enjoyed falconry quite a bit. Learning nearly everything was inevitable.” He reached out through the storm of sparks, feeling pinpricks of sharp warmth land on his skin before abruptly winking out. No marks remained when he looked, though, not even a reddening where he felt the sparks land. “You’re going to need more than a little jump like that, especially in here. When Yoruichi gets back with the glove, we can go down to the training room if you want to try learning to fly.”
“Please?” Kisuke asked, giving him a pleading look.
He smiled faintly and brushed his fingers along Kisuke’s jaw. “I wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t mean it, Kisuke,” he reminded his lover softly. “Now, spread your wings again and let me have a look at you. There’s magic threaded all through your body and I get the feeling I’m going to need to untangle the whole thing before I can undo this spell.”
Kisuke obligingly spread his wings, and Erich tapped into his own magic and closed his eyes. Kisuke shone bright in his mind’s eye, a twisted net of magic that held him tight to the form of a phoenix.
This was going to take a while.
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welovekpopscenarios · 6 years
Text
The Stars Above the Chaos (Space/Halo!AU Mingyu x Reader)
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Admin: Mimi
Earth is under attack, and Mingyu is being shipped out to war tomorrow. You don’t know if this will be his last one. Better make the night count. Space/Halo!AU
Fandom: Seventeen
Genre: Smut, teensy bit of angst
Pairing: Mingyu x Reader
Warnings: Language, slight mentions of death
Word Count: 3555
A/N: Don’t let all the terminology or Halo scare you off, it’s basically a smut with a bit of backstory. This was honestly just to feed my need to write for Mingyu seeing as he is my bias and Halo bc it was the game of my childhood and it will always be one of my top games (I even have a big book about it that my ex got me for Christmas haw haw). But yeah, this is essentially just a smut and can be taken as a basic Space!AU, so I hope you still read and enjoy regardless of the space/halo stuff in it! Happy reading! (Low key happy about this one LOL)
I made a little index with info and visuals, if you’re interested in the help!
The sound of mindless chatter and clinking metal sounded in your ears as you entered the canteen to collect your dinner for the day after training, nodding your head in hello at chefs and soldiers alike, the ships A.I Sasha even throwing a sweet wave as you passed the holographic screen. Your eyes searched the large space, table upon table filled with soldiers of every ranking; cadet to captain, private to sergeant, but you were only looking for one table in particular. Tucked away in the corner of the room, you found some of your friends sitting together and chatting amiably amongst one another, as usual around this time in the evening.
Seungkwan spotted you first, his head raising from the conversation to wave you over with his usual sweet smile. You headed towards the spot with hurried steps, ignoring the talks of the ongoing battle ensuing on Earth, the countless number of deaths and casualties occurring while you’re stuck here on this ship, waiting for the day when you get called to join the gruesome fight. Jeonghan greeted you with a smile and moved over on the bench, making room for you to sit, placing you directly in front of Mingyu who fixed you with a small smile and a subtle wink. The others – Seungkwan, Minghao and Wonwoo, to be exact – all gave you their own greetings before returning to their previous conversation.
“I don’t think I’ve ever fixed so much equipment before – seems like there’s something coming in nearly every hour to be worked on lately,” Wonwoo complained, playing idly with the food on the tray in front of him. “So many weapons and vehicles coming in, needing repairs. Some of them are so badly damaged, I don’t even know where to start with them.”
Jeonghan made a noise in agreement, shaking his head. “Tell me about it, the med wards are flooded here. It’s too hectic to keep up with, and we’re nearly running out of supplies.”
“We’re overloaded here,” Seungkwan piped up from beside Jeonghan. “I can’t even imagine what the situation on Earth looks like right now.”
The table grew quiet, the horrible elephant in the room ever present as you thought about the struggle on Earth. Just recently, as small fleet of Covenant ships exited slipspace and began to attack the African city of New Mombasa. During the ensuing battle, a Covenant Assault Carrier breached the orbital fortifications on the city and made its way to the surface. The ship, which carried the Covenant Hierarch known as the High Prophet of Regret, took position over New Mombasa, deploying troops and vehicles which occupied the city, and the city's civilians either evacuated, took shelter, or were killed.
Nobody could talk for too long on those who were lost to the hordes of aliens destroying the city, be it soldier or civilian. You felt useless, stuck on the UNSC Say My Name while others risked their lives to stop the invaders from controlling the city. But another part of you, hidden deep underneath your skin and making you sick with guilt, was slightly relieved your unit wasn’t shipped out to deal with the situation yet. The tales you heard from the returning soldiers; the frightening pincers of the Elites, the raw terrifying strength of the Brutes, even the swarms of Grunts and Jackals becoming too much to handle in the heat of the moment. Nobody knew exactly the intent of the invasion – just that if the Covenant managed to take control of New Mombasa with the fleet they have, more will come, and Earth will soon be in the hands of the enemy.
Minghao made a loud tutting and jabbed irritably at his food, scowl present on his otherwise pixie-like face.
“I wish they’d just send us out already. They clearly need us, and I’m sick of all this waiting. We should be going now instead of tomorrow” he grumbled, shovelling tasteless slop into his mouth hurriedly. Jeonghan gave a derisive snort, fixing Minghao with a level stare.
“You should wish they won’t have to send you out,” he retorted, to which Minghao gave another tut and a slight roll of his eyes. “To send the ODST’s out would mean that the situation really has gone to shit. And that’s when panic sets in,” he explained, picking up his cup to take a sip and raising a brow at the infamous ODST over the rim.
“ODST’s: Orbital Drop Shock Troopers,” you mused quietly, and looked forward to find Mingyu’s eyes already on you. “Things must be getting really bad down in New Mombasa if they’re gonna send out the ODST’s soon,” you said, and all heads at the table turned at your voice. “You’re practically a last resort when these things happen.”
Mingyu nodded seriously, shoulders heaving in a sigh the exited through his nose. “Yeah,” he agreed. “They say the fight’s getting pretty grizzly and they’re losing hope. The Covenant are pushing strong. Coups said we could be shipped out some time tomorrow,” he elaborated, and made eye contact with you to give you a heavy stare that put a dead weight in the pit of your stomach. It was a stare that said ‘I’m going away tomorrow, I don’t know when I’ll be back. I don’t know if I’ll be back.’
You always knew what would happen when one of you gave a stare like that, a sort of tradition between the pair of you after you began seeing each other in secret years ago. But it would have to wait until after dinner. You brushed your leg against Mingyu’s underneath the table.
Minghao gave a humourless smirk. “’Last resort’,” he repeated, shaking his head. “We’re the best of the best. They just don’t want to use us so early in the fight. They wanna see if they can pick them off without using all their resources first,” he said arrogantly, but you saw right through him as if he were glass. He might be an ODST like Mingyu, a soldier who went through tougher training than most, than yourself, but he was afraid. Just like everyone else was. One wrong move, and life as you knew it was gone.
“Actually, The8,” Wonwoo mocked Minghao’s notorious nickname as if it were an insult, and Minghao turned his head to his left to glare at the taller boy. “I wouldn’t consider ODST’s the best of the best. You’re good, yes, but you’re just that bit stronger than the average soldier, like Y/N,” he nodded his head in your direction, and you ducked yours when Minghao’s dark eyes flitted to your form. Mingyu stifled a giggle at Minghao’s enraged face, and instead paid attention to the rest of Wonwoo’s speech. “If you were to call on the best of the best, then the Spartan’s would have been sent. Those were the real super soldiers.”
Seungkwan cut off Minghao’s retort in an effort to keep the peace once he saw the ODST clenching his fists and flaring his nostrils. Minghao always got too fired up when danger was imminent, snapping at everyone without warning. “Spartans aren’t in use any more. Well, except for the Master Chief. He’s the last Spartan alive, apparently,” he said, checking his surroundings before leaning into the centre of the table, the rest of you following suit as he lowered his voice.
“I heard he was on the UNSC Pillar of Autumn when it exploded. He was supposed to be destroying a new alien threat that was released, something even worse than the Covenant. But that’s all I heard. There were a few units that came into contact with this new threat but…not many people made it back alive,” he gossiped, a grim look upon the nurse’s soft visage. Mingyu groaned, eyes darting to the ceiling, cracking his knuckles loudly that had you cringing at the sound.
“As if we need even more shit to deal with,” he whined, boots tapping yours in silent conversation. ‘I’m worried.’ You tapped back and gave a slight smile, one that felt weaker than intended. ‘I know. Me too.’
“Regardless,” Minghao clipped loudly, sitting upright once more as he spooned the last of his grub into his mouth, “we’re the next best thing. There are more of us than there are Spartan soldiers, isn’t that right, Gyu?” Mingyu nodded wordlessly, eyebrows nearly reaching his hairline as he sipped his water. “We’re the ones who are going to be doing most of the fighting. Master Chief can join whenever he wants, but he better not steal our glory.” And with that, he stood up from the bench, gathered his tray, and stormed away from the table. Wonwoo rubbed his eyes tiredly while Jeonghan shook his head disappointedly.
“Please, ignore him,” Mingyu apologised, resting his forearms on the table. “His feathers get a bit rustled when a fight is just around the corner. He doesn’t mean to snap.” The group just nodded in understanding. Truthfully, tensions were high with everyone now, stress piling on every time a new problem came up, which seemed to be nearly every second now.
The intercom above interrupted the chatter in the room, calling upon all available technicians to return to their work stations immediately, and Wonwoo placed his forehead on the table and gave a pitiful, exhausted groan. Mingyu laughed warmly and reached an arm around his friend’s shoulders, squeezing in sympathy. The leaner male simply sighed, and drug his body out of his seat on the bench. Lifting a weak arm in goodbye, he picked up his tray and headed in the direction of the technician’s labs.
“We should get going too, Y/N,” Mingyu announced, your attention aimed at him once more as he looked at you with a hard stare. “We need our rest as soldiers, don’t we?” he asked, and you nodded in agreement mutely, picking up the remainder of your food and standing up from the bench. Jeonghan gave you a knowing look, one that had you fighting the heat rising to your cheeks and scowling when he gave a light scoff. You curse the day you called him your friend and trusted him with the information about your secret relationship.
Before you could grab him by the throat and choke him out for being so obvious, Mingyu tilted his head in the direction and led you both out while you ignored the teasing “have fun” from Jeonghan’s sugared mouth. Mingyu guided you down the hallways of the ship while you saluted every passer-by, reminded of just how vast and lively this single airship can be. It was essentially a world of its own – each person a cog in the well-oiled machine that was the UNSC Say My Name, another fighter in the galactic war. Turning a corner in the metallic hallways, you came upon a rare occurrence of the hall being completely devoid of life. And just when you thought that Mingyu was leading you nowhere, you were suddenly dragged into what seemed to be a supply closet and promptly pressed up against the newly locked door.
You gasped as Mingyu’s sturdy body was flush against your own, his calloused hands trailing a rapid path across your skin as he attempted to feel as much of you as he possibly could, his hidden fear and his duty as a soldier causing him to panic and rush his actions. You grabbed a hold of his wrists to stop him and stared deep into his wide eyes, so beautifully dark and so tragically frightened. Your thumbs rubbed soothing circles over the veins, and you watched as he gradually relaxed and sighed out of his stiff posture, deflating like a balloon until he looked unbearably small in the cramped space of the closet, the light casting even darker shadows over his weary face. Bringing his wrists to your face, your lips skimmed the smooth surface, his pulse dancing beneath your mouth as he closed his eyes in peace.
Edging closer to you, he moved his arms to wrap around your form as you wrapped yours around his waist, holding him close to you as he rested his forehead atop the crown of your head, breathing in the scent of your hair and keeping you hidden in his longs arms for as long as he could. He’s not stupid. The situation on Earth is way worse than ONI or the UNSC are letting on. But for the sake of keeping their soldiers up for the fight, they’re staying quiet about how bad the devastation in New Mombasa is. And while he knows he’s one of the best ODST’s in the army right now, he isn’t sure if he’ll live to see another battle after he gets deployed and sent feet first into hell tomorrow. He knows when he sits in that pod and gets dropped into the heat of battle, there’s no going back for him. And the only thing that has been racing through his mind since the Covenant invaded the planet was you. Thoughts of you heading into the fight soon, thoughts of you being safe on the ship while he was doing heavy duty, thoughts of if he’ll get to see you again once everything’s been dealt with.
If everything’s dealt with.
And it’s with this in mind that he plans to go through with the unspoken tradition for when either one of you are set to leave. A moment of bittersweet release, one last night in paradise, as he bitterly jokes, a time for you both to feel alive and in love before it’s drained out of him in the coming hours.
He moves first, his lips pressing butterfly kisses to your forehead and moving them downwards; kissing your cheeks, your lids delicately, and even your nose before they finally reach your lips, where they seal over yours in a searing kiss, one that left your mind spinning and perfectly distracted you from the worries plaguing it. Your fingers trail through his hair, tugging at the soft strands and wrenching a delicious moan from deep within Mingyu’s chest.
You felt the ends of your standard tank top being tugged out of the confines of your cargo pants, but couldn’t think on it too long, not when Mingyu’s tongue was sweeping across the seam of your lips so wonderfully. You opened up for him and he dove in like a man starved of everything that was you, your tongues swirling and pushing in ways that had your knees turning to jelly. You think you would have fallen if not for Mingyu’s strong arms keeping you upright, hands working frantically to open the buttons on your pants.
You did the same, hands reaching beneath his shirt and brushing over his toned muscles, honed after years and years of training, your fingertips caressing the little bumps of scars, hard work and even harder memories painted across his skin. He tore his shirt off impatiently, the fabric pooling somewhere on the ground, and he did the same with yours, your arms raised high above your head as he near ripped the piece of clothing off your body, leaving you in your sports bra and pressing you to the door once more.
The cold sting of the metal against your flushed body wasn’t near enough to distract you from Mingyu’s ministrations of trailing kisses down your neck, his thick fingers dipping beneath the waistband of your bra behind your back. You made a light squeak when his lips touched the more sensitive parts of your neck, lust seeping over your mind like a cloud on a stormy day, and you could do nothing more than pull on Mingyu’s hair whenever he did something particularly pleasing. He was placing your pleasure above his own, like usual. He pulled your bra off until you were completely bare from the waist up, and Mingyu took the opportunity to place hidden nips and bites along your chest for only his eyes to see, sucking on your pert nipple and rolling the neglected one with his fingers.
You bit your lip to contain the moan threatening to leave your chest, feeling your arousement seeping through your underwear and your core throbbing annoyingly, desperate to be touched.
Mouth still lavishing your chest, Mingyu worked on getting your pants down and off your legs, pulling until the fabric piling around your ankles until you kicked them off along with your boots. You gasped aloud when his hand flew into your underwear and straight for your slit, fingers rubbing up and down the flesh before moving to your swollen bud, circling around the nub harshly that had stars as bright as the ones you’ve seen out of the docking bays windows flashing behind your closed lids.
But Mingyu knew there was no time, and so he tugged your underwear off and left you as naked as the day you were born, his hands shoving his own pants and boxers down his thighs. Without even taking them off, he lifted you up with ease, your legs wrapping automatically around his waist as his forearms kept you balanced beneath your rear. You reached between your bodies to grasp his member and gave it a few pumps, leaving Mingyu to grit his teeth at the sensation.
Once he reasoned he was fully hard, Mingyu moved his dick to your soaked folds, rubbing the tip up and down your core, drenching his member in your slick before he pushed in, moving you down his length slowly until he was fully sheathed in your heat. He allowed you a moment to breathe, peppering kisses on the underside of your jaw before you gave the go ahead, and next he was lifting you up and down his cock while you clung to his shoulders for dear life.
You could feel the rumble of his chest against yours with every grunt and pant he made, driving you even crazier as you watched him become more ruined the closer his orgasm came. Each thrust caused his abdomen to grind against your throbbing clit, and you were too weak to even keep your eyes open at the feeling, that knot in your stomach growing larger and more intense with each hard plunge of his shaft into your sensitive cunt. The lewd sounds of skin smacking against skin slapped around the metallic supply room, your moans lost to the wind in airy little whispers as Mingyu readjusted his position and hit that oh-so-special spot deep inside of you.
Your orgasm was approaching fast, too fast, but you were powerless to stop it when Mingyu sped up his thrusts and kissed you so hard you lost your breath. Your back arched as white heat washed over you, your nails biting into the bronzed skin of his shoulder blades while Mingyu hissed with pleasure, that knot finally unravelling and dragging you down into a plane of pure ecstasy. Your body twitched in satisfaction, feeling truly spent, and you coaxed Mingyu to his own end with whispers of praise in his ear, and when your walls clenched around him, he gave a whine and pulled out, hand rapidly pumping at his hand.
With furrowed brows and sweat lining his forehead he came, white strings of his seed spilling over his stomach and his hand, and with all the energy you could muster you bent down to grab your underwear for him to clean himself with. It was better than nothing.
You pulled back on your clothes groggily as Mingyu wiped down his hand, chest heaving from exertion, and soon he too was getting dressed in the dark space of the closet. Fully clothed, you stared at him for a moment before he dragged you in for a kiss, one so passionate and desperate, you swore you felt your heart break just a little bit. Pulling back to gasp for air, he leaned his forehead on yours and held you close to his body, rocking you back and forth in a way that seemed more soothing for him than you.
You wished you had more time, had an opportunity to have a proper night together, to lie peacefully in each other’s arms rather than a quick fuck in a dirty closet. You wanted to spend your life with him, a life of serenity, a home, with a child and a pet and-
Fuck, you just wanted a better life for him.
Your hands held either side of his face and forced him to gaze into your eyes, eyes that looked so heartbreakingly dismal that you wanted to cry right then and there. You steeled yourself - for his sake - and took a deep breath. You can do this.
“I want you to win this fight, Mingyu,” you said simply, and he stood still, emotionless, before resolve flooded his face, and with newfound determination and strength he nodded resolutely, pressing one more sweet kiss to your lips. And he’d make sure it wouldn’t be the last.
And when you both exited the supply closet, ignoring the curious looks of other soldiers and workers and watching as you headed in the other direction towards your sleeping quarters, Mingyu was certain of his decision to finally propose to you if he comes back from battle.
When he comes back from battle.
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sceawere · 6 years
Text
day and night | halfdan
bc i think a lot about what happened when harald and wounded halfdan left france before the timeskip
The light had fled and the candles flickered down to almost nothing by the time you finally moved. Your arm was asleep, screaming as you slowly rolled it down from where it’d been supporting your head, and used it to help you move up and away from the table. Aching legs took slow steps closer to the doorway framed by guards.
The healer gave only a subtle nod as they passed you, his apprentice trailing after with a bundle of blood sodden cloth that turned your stomach. You swallowed it down, turning your head to your maid as she hurried over.
“What did they say?” you had to clear your throat and swallow again as your voice cracked and groaned over the words “tell me what they said”
She lightly took a wrist, thumb rolling over the bruised lines at the back of it, the ink still settling into your skin. It was meant to have healed by the time he got home. How long it had taken to accept this was your home. The thought had finally creeped in deep enough to your chest, the idea taking root in your very breath, and you’d made a hurried decision to mark the design you now bore into your flesh before it could leave you again. Before you fell adrift once more. It was meant to have healed by the time he got home.
They’d weren’t meant to be home for the better part of a fortnight, at least, even that with weather permitting. You’d been sleeping. Lying curled in furs and weavings, and dreaming of flying high above the canopy with a flock of birds surrounding you.
All at once they’d turned, and come toward you, curving in like a wave set to drown you. They’d sped past and torn at your wings, feathers fluttering and catching in the wind as they were stripped from you. And finally, you’d tumbled, and squawked, and woke startled in your bed before the floor could meet you. The covers had been torn from you, and instead there was a maid upon you, trembling hands pulling you up.
They weren’t meant to be home for at least a fortnight and at first when she’d explained there were ships at the shore, you’d assumed you were being attacked. It was only as men barged in, carrying a man aloft, with a healer trailed after them that you truly woke and understood what was happening. 
“What did they say?” you repeated, more insistent.
“Not dying on the water is a promising sign. We need to keep watching for signs of infection but the healer- “she paused and stuttered over her words “he…burned out what worried him so- “
You swallowed and shuffled and she knew better than to continue.
“We need more candles” you whispered, eyeing the pillar behind her.
She lifted her head, eyebrows knitting as she looked you over.
“I can’t do anything about...I can’t…” you sighed, not even sure yourself what point you were making. It took a few seconds to settle on something “It’s not my decision now. I’ve said my bit to them, and they’ll do what they’ll do. But until such a time as the gods intend to take him, I still have to run our house as if I intend him to stay, so please could you fetch some more candles?”
She gave a last squeeze of your hand and turned off, stalling at the door when you called after her.
“Thank you”
A slight nod, and she left into the darkness.
-
It felt like intruding somehow, even though it was your bedroom they were occupying. You hovered in the doorway anyway, watching Harald as he knelt by the bed.
He looked exhausted, smiling sadly as he finished a story about when they were children and he had to drag Halfdan home through miles of snow after he’d misjudged a patch of ice and gone flying down the hillside. Or the time he’d decided to climb onto a cluster of rocks for a better shot while hunting, fallen off, and left Harald with no choice but to drag him home.
“I thought we’d agreed we’d stop this, hmm brother?” he gritted his jaw as he dipped his head and you stepped softly into the room, gripping a hand to his shoulder.
“I’d remind you that making agreements with a sleeping man risks you not being listened to, but this is Halfdan we’re talking about, so his waking probably wouldn’t change much” you whispered as you knelt beside him, offering a small smile. He lifted his hand to meet yours, returning the smile.
“Thank you for bringing him home” you whispered, biting into your lip to keep the tears at bay.
“I told him if he died before I got him here, you’d beat me half to death so he had better live – if only so you could take it out on him instead” he joked and the two of you shared a laugh before settling back into the silence. It was stifling in here, the fire roaring, and yet Halfdan still looked pale as you turned your head to him. Harald reached out and touched his forehead for a moment and you dipped your head, feeling like you were intruding again.
“He’s strong” Harald reminded you, and you assumed reminded himself, as he rose and took his leave.
-
You were working up a sweat, pacing in the close air, but if you sat and stared at his sleeping body any longer you were going to lose your mind. And so you paced, up and down, up and down, the floorboards creaking in turn.
“Will you shut up, woman?”
Your head whipped around, even the low croak of his voice startling you in the otherwise silent room.
“Halfdan!” you gasped out, rushing to crawl up the bed beside him. He winced and you shuffled back a touch, your approach having shifted the bed and jostled his shoulder. He swallowed a groan and shuffled, only risking peeking open one eye. He stared you down for only a moment before nodding his head back.
You waited, taking long but stuttering breaths.
“Aren’t you going to say anything?” you asked, eyes trailing over the bandages at his shoulder.
“I’m half dead, I’ve earned the right to some peace and quiet”
“Halfdan!”
He hummed and you huffed, sitting down properly on the bed.
“You know I actually- “
“Oh, for- “he whispered under his breath and you shook your head to yourself, narrowing your eyes at the wall across from you.
“I actually worried about you, you know. I let myself get all worked up and I shouldn’t have fucking bothered, should I?” you huffed.
“No, probably not” he replied, eyes still shut.
“No. Instead of praying and pleading they’d keep you here, I should have been begging them to cart you off” you pointed out.
“Probably”
“Then I could have finally got some ‘peace and quiet’. ‘Peace and- ‘, are you fucking kidding me?”
He furrowed his brow and looked up to you again, tired eyes peering out.
“Did you miss me, wife?” he asked and you let out a frustrated groan. You looked down to the covers, picking at a loose thread in one of the woven blankets as you seethed.
“Only at night” you whispered, twirling the thread around your finger.
“Harald said I was hallucinating you on the ship back” he groaned as he shuffled again and you jumped forward, grabbing his arm to still it before he could cause any damage to himself. You shot a look as you fixed a pillow against his side.
“You were?”
“Well, I’d lost a lot of blood”
“Is that an explanation or an excuse?”
“Depends if you find it endearing or not” he let his head flop to where you were leaning beside him and you kept eye contact, dragging it out to see who would blink first.
“Was I stabbing you?” he smirked at your tone and you couldn’t help the smile that came to you as you watched it drag sleepily over his cheek.
“No”
“Hmm, you should have realised you were hallucinating all by yourself then, shouldn’t you?”
“Did you miss me, wife?” he repeated.
“Only in the days, husband”
He hummed, his lids dropping slightly. You dropped to your elbow, your free hand coming up to trail through his hair.
“Sleep. You need it”
“I’m fine” he replied, with his eyes shut all the while.
“You won’t heal until you stop fighting it”
“I want to lie with you for a while. I’ve been gone so long”
You trailed your hand down the side of his face, thumb trailing the designs slowly as you went.
“I’ll be here when you wake”
He reached up slowly with his uninjured arm, taking your hand as he blinked himself awake again.
“Not yet”
You settled down next to him, making sure to avoid his shoulder as he played with your hands together in the air above you.
“What’s this?” he mumbled, turning your wrist over, your fingers entwined as he held it there in sight “You didn’t have that when I left”
“Observant as ever” you snarked and he pushed his thumb into the joint of a finger, turning his head towards you. Even half dead, he had the same look about him and it made you smile lazily back to him “You kept saying I should get something”
“No, I kept saying you should let me give you something” he pointed out, turning his head back to look at the woven band that now decorated your wrist.
“What’s the difference?” you mumbled, shuffling in the pillow as you watched his profile.
“I wanted it to be between us”
You caught you lip between your teeth, rolling it there.
“I have plenty of skin left for you, don’t worry”
He chuckled, lowering your hand to lay a kiss over the settling bruises.
“You like it though?” you questioned, suddenly uncertain “You’re not really upset?”
He pushed his thumb into the joint again and rested your entwined hands against his chest, clear of the bandages.
“I don’t want to knock your shoulder” you fussed, shuffling your head back a bit, away from him. He kept as strong a grip on your hand as he could, given his weakened state, and refused to let you move too far away.
You sighed, settling back in place. Stubborn bastard.
“Sleep, I’ll be here when you wake” you reminded him, and gave his hand another squeeze.
“I want to lie with you for a while” he replied again, and you skimmed your eyes on the pale of his profile.
“Then we’ll lie in the quiet” you posed, knowing he’d fall asleep regardless of his pride. He hummed back, fingers toying with yours at his chest still.
“Did you miss me?” you teased, turning his question back at him, and he smiled lazily before he answered.
“Only at night”
“Yeah?”
“Hmm” he rolled his neck and settled further in “and only in the days”
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dreamlogic · 7 years
Note
"I've met a few angels" Really? That's so neat! Would you elaborate on that? 🌱🎶
aaaahhhh lmao perhaps “met” is the wrong word. it’s more like “happened to be in the way while they were doing their jobs and caught a glimpse of them, then spent a week not sleeping about it.” angels are intimidating af. even my guardian angel, who’s kind of a punk, carries himself with an incredible amount of power and authority. they’re incredibly graceful– so graceful that it’s a bit eerie how smooth and confident their movements are. i’ve encountered five angels over the course of my life (that i know of) and i don’t think i could ever forget any of them. and bc you caught me in a chatty mood, i’ll ramble a little about them under the cut:
the first angels i met were watchkeepers over the house i grew up in. it was a dinky little trailer in a quiet, well-maintained little park populated mostly by retirees and the occasional meth cook. nothing remarkable in itself, but i’m pretty sure our trailer was situated over some sort of spiritual continental divide or a rift in spacetime or something. weird shit always went down there, and i never realized how much weird shit went down till i moved out. my mom (who is also v sensitive to the supernatural) and i used to joke that it was a “halfway house for wayward demons and lost ghosts.”one night, i was going for a walk around the neighborhood, and when i returned to my house i saw two enormous shadowy figures crouched at each end of the trailer: one east, one west. the way they were perched reminded me of the ark of the covenant. they weren’t humanoid, per se, just shapes of dark cobalt and gold that almost disappeared in the night, with giant gold-laced wings outstretched to cover the majority of the house. one carried a spear, and one a staff with a lantern on the end, and they were crossed in the middle. neither acknowledged my presence, and although i glimpsed them out of the corner of my eye and in dreams several times over the years there, neither ever showed any signs of movement. their presence was grave and heavy, but overall comforting because after they took up post on our roof, the nastier demons tended to stay outside and leave us alone for the most part.
then there’s my guardian angel, for lack of a better word. i nicknamed him marlboro, because during the summer i first met him, i kept finding marlboro cigarette butts under my windowsill, which he eventually confessed to leaving there. did he smoke them? eat them? harvest them just to confuse me? i dunno, but for a while i was convinced it was a peeping tom who was really bad at covering their tracks.voyeurism aside, i also mistook him for a demon the first time i met him. at the time, i was still living in the trailer, and was still near constantly plagued with supernatural bullshit. demons tend to flock in threes for strength (imo trying to mimic the holy trinity), and i had a triumvirate in my room wrecking havoc on my mental health. i usually don’t have anxiety, but they were giving me anxiety attacks that felt like i’d been sliced in half with a blade of PURE RAW FEAR. i was chilling in my room one afternoon trying to calm down from one of these anxiety attacks when i thought i saw a shimmering blade out of the corner of my eye, emerging from thin air like an invisible curtain covering it had been briefly blown aside. thinking it was the demon, i whipped out my fuckin holy water and incense and tried to FITE TF OUT OF IT, but it didn’t budge. instead, it started laughing, this beautiful, but incredibly stressful sound like being stuck inside a giant brass bell while it rang.“are you really trying to exorcise me?” a voice asked, and i felt a bit nauseous. “get the fuck out, demon,” i replied. the laughter got louder and the blade burst into flames, sending light dancing around the room. “bro, seriously? i’m your angel,” it said. “here, watch this.” the point of the blade cut into the floor, opening up a little slice of darkness, and the point hooked around some screaming, squirming thing that it pulled up from the floor. i recognized it instantly as the demon that had been fucking with me: this vile thing dripping rotting blood and green bile, parts one two and three being a rusty spike, a moldering cloth wrapping it up, and a ribbon covered in eyes tying the bundle together. clawed hands reached out from behind the curtain shielding me from the brightness of the flaming blade and unwrapped the demon piece by piece, shredding it while it shrieked and blubbered. then the hands lifted the sword, twisted the blade into the demon’s “heart” and cut it in two easy as cutting air.the laughter stopped, and i felt a gentle weight on my knees and shoulders, pushing me to the floor. “you’re welcome,” the laughing voice said. the sword had disappeared behind the curtain again, and i felt a soft presence slip across my eyes before vanishing. i was so overwhelmed and stressed out by the encounter i took a nap on the floor and woke up four hours later.since then, i’ve gotten to know marlboro better and he doesn’t scare me anymore. his is a welcome presence, soft and humorous (if obnoxiously sarcastic for an angel), but still fiercely intense and a little careless with that intensity. i think he forgets my puny human brain can’t fully conceptualize his existence and sometimes he’s so intense it’s almost smothering. for the most part, he keeps his distance unless i call on him. lately, he’s been hovering over my bed while i sleep to guard my dreams, but for the most part he does his own thing elsewhere and doesn’t pay me much attention. i’ve also gotten a more accurate picture of his physical appearance over the years, but i still have trouble articulating. the ‘curtain’ i first saw turned out to be a garment he wears to shield himself from sight, like an invisibility cloak made of dark matter or some shit. if i had to compare his form to anything, it would be a barn owl, but even that doesn’t do him justice at all. i can’t tell if he carries many flaming blades under his cloak, or if those are feathers, or what, but occasionally i’ll catch a glint of sharp things in the soft, heavy, star-laden darkness under the garment. he exudes a dense rust-grey smoke that obscures everything but his face, and i think it’s another layer of protection he offers me, but i’m not sure. it smells like a bizarre blend of incense, rancid meat, and river water.
unlike my wandering truant angel, my mom’s guardian angel never leaves her side. it stands behind her with a vice grip on her left shoulder, and its presence scares the shit out of my cats. she has to ask it to loosen its grip and back off a bit, otherwise her shoulder aches and she can’t sleep with its overbearing weight on her. i haven’t seen much of its physical appearance, and i really don’t want to. it’s enormous, and tbh kinda terrifying. it wears full-body armor, but i only know what its head/shoulders looks like bc it noticed i was watching it and vanished with a sound like a flock of pigeons taking flight. its helmet is a featureless visor of tarnished golden-y color with plates like a snake’s scutes that slope gently into broad, rounded shoulders. tbh it looked a little bit like these fuckers, the druids from voltron. when they first made an appearance i was like “noooooooo fuckinnn wayyyyyy” lmao art imitates life or w/e.
this last angel came to me when i was visiting a catholic shrine in the rocky mountains. i’d been considering buying a rosary there, but the lil gift shop was closed. i was musing on this in one of the prayer gardens when something abruptly called my attention between two spruce trees on the opposite end of the garden. i felt magnetically drawn to that spot, even though i had to hop two fences and a rock wall to get there. “there” was a statue of an angel dedicated to some long-dead benefactor of the shrine, and to my eyes it seemed to be coated in a layer of glistening, fuzzy white down, like some sort of fungus, or dew-coated wool. from the angel’s outstretched hand was dangling a rosary, which wasn’t exactly uncommon. “i can’t take this, someone left it here for a reason,” i thought to myself. the shrine was littered with trinkets and offerings and it felt wrong to disturb them, but a voice that sounded like wind through a bottle rose from the fluff coating the statue and asked me “why do you think i compelled her to leave it? it’s yours.” after some deliberation (but not much cause you don’t just disregard authoritative talking statues), i unlooped the rosary from the angel’s hand. the second i did, the white down scattered like this [video link, arachnophobia cw]. here’s a pic of the angel statue, but it doesn’t look nearly as awe-inspiring as it did when covered with angel dust, or whatever that was (i’m p sure it was angelic, but i’m not sure if it was a single entity or a flock/hivemind of little luminous beings). the rosary now lives in a bag with my tarot deck bc i’m an awful blasphemous christian.
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