replacing memories

Patronus Glyphs: Bat

This is the first of a new series I’ll be working on and experimenting with! 

Similar to sigils but also much like servitors, these glyphs can be used in a variety of ways. Your “patronus” doesn’t have to be this animal for you to use it, but it’s best if you either have a tie to it, it makes you happy, or its particular brand of magic will be useful in what you’re trying to achieve. 

***

How to use as a patronus:

*For banishing negative thoughts and emotions and chasing away depression*

-Focus your eyes on the image. 

-Bring to mind your happiest memory, and hold it there. Imagine as you do that you are being filled with a sensation of warmth and/or a bright glow as the memory fills your awareness

-Once you feel you’ve been fully imbued with the light/warmth of your memory, touch or point to the patronus glyph and say, whisper, or think “expecto patronum” or whatever other activating phrase resonates with you. 

-Imagine the patronus glowing, flaring to life, and physically chasing away your negative emotions (which could be visualized as dementors, if it helps).

***

Another way to use this glyph is to invoke it as a magical servitor or a familiar, in which case choose whatever activation method you prefer, or use the previously described steps but replace visualizing your happiest memory with visualizing your intent, and your servitor being fed and empowered by carrying it out.

***

Some things bat magic is good for:

-family bonding

-sending messages between planes

-percieving things beyond the veil

-finding things in dark places

-good luck and fortune

-transformation

-facing your fears 

-general communication


Print available here

I Was Here | Pt. 2

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader x ??

Genre: Angst

Word Count: 1161

Masterlist |Ask

Part 1 | Part 3 | Part 4

Originally posted by chokaivlicious


❥ “Although I was the one who was waiting for you, someone else got you.”


Love.

From a small age on, your mother had always taught you that love was something very beautiful and precious. Every time she’d talked about love, her eyes sparkled and a laughter welled up on her lips. She told you that love was able to make a person happy, that love was able to make you smile, trust and treasure someone. But she had never told you that love could be cruel. That it was able to hurt you. That it could be the reason for your tears. That it was able to destroy you..

You would never have imagined that such a short word would be capable to do such things to you.

 Until you met your husband..


“I’m sorry, Y/N. I hope you find the happiness you’ve been pretending to have as soon as possible but as you said, I’m not giving up on her..“

After hearing those words, your whole body strained as it convulsed in pain. Slowly, you stepped out of his arms and wiped your tears away.

You looked into your husband’s eyes. Those eyes that always sparkled whenever they saw your best friend were now looking at you like they were hollow.

He chose her.

A sarcastic laugh escaped your mouth. “So that’s it then? You make me fall for you without the intention of catching me, I let you in and trust you with my heart and you just abandon me like it never meant a thing. You expect me to just be able to go on with my life like nothing ever happened. Like we never got married. Like we never lived in the same house for two years. Like I never loved you..”

Taehyung averted his eyes and run his fingers trough his silky hair. He took a step forward in order to reach out for you but stopped when he saw how you backed away. “I never gave you hope, Y/N..”

“I never said that you gave me hope, Taehyung.”

Taehyung furrowed his eyebrows and tilted his head a little bit. “What do you want then?”

Taking a deep breath, you tried to hold your tears back. “I want you to give me hope..” 

You watched how your husband’s confused expression changed when he understood what you were trying to say. “Y/N, I’m really sorry.. I just can’t let her go. She needs me..”

Another sarcastic laugh escaped your mouth. “And what about me, Taehyung? What if I need you more than you can imagine? I don’t know if you care but I love you..”

“Then stop loving me, Y/N! I don’t need your love! I already told you that I’m in love with her! What else should I do so that you can understand it?! I don’t want you in my life!”

“Taehyung!” You heard Hani hiss beside your husband.

The minute Taehyung realized what he said, his eyes widened and he tried to reach out for you for the second time but your best friend held his hand in order to stop him.

You stared at their intertwined fingers. They fit perfectly as if they were made for each other.

Right before your husband could say anything, you turned around so that they couldn’t see the new tears that were ready to roll down your face and hissed. “Get out!”

“Y/N I-”

“I SAID GET OUT!”

Stay. I need you more than you think..


It has been two weeks since you last saw him. Hours have passed, days have passed, weeks have passed. But the pain that you felt in your chest didn’t. On the contrary, it was hurting more and more as time passed on.

You knew that you have passed your time with fake joys. Every memory with him was permanent in your mind. It wouldn’t want to leave nor would it like to understand that it was hurting you.

How should you cope with all those memories all by yourself? He was replacing those memories with her, whereas you were holding tight to them because they were the only things that remained of him.

Was it really time for you to let go? Was it really time to give up on him?


You were sitting in front of your husband and best friend, fiddling with the hem of your dress that you decided to wear since they invited you to this fancy restaurant because they wanted to tell you something, as they said, very important.

They looked the same, happy and in love, while the heavy bags under your eyes were shouting that you were the only one hurting and suffering.

You cleared your voice in order to get their attention and smiled at them with a fake smile plastered on your lips. “So? Why did you two invite me here?”

Hani smiled brightly at you. “We want to tell you something very important, Y/N!”

She looked really happy and excited. You raised your eyebrows and tilted your head, showing them that you were ready to hear whatever they were planning to say.

Suddenly, Hani lifted her left hand that was wearing a ring and beamed loudly. “We’re getting married!”

The minute you heard those words, you felt like you were hit by a truck. Shocked, you averted your eyes to Taehyung for the first time that night. He wasn’t looking at you. His eyes were fixed on her smiling face, his face not showing any sign of hurt or shame.

This time, you looked down at your hand and at the ring that was gracing your finger.

He wasn’t yours. He never was.

You closed your eyes for a short time in order to control your tears. When you were ready, you looked up at them with yet again the fake smile on your lips. “C-Congratulations!”

You watched how Hani kissed your husbands cheek before thanking you. 

Why was everything starting to get blurry?

“We also wanted to ask when you would sign the divorce papers that Taehyung sent you weeks ago.” Hani added with a now forced smile on her lips.

“I-I..”

“Y/N!”

Suddenly, you felt a strong grip around your wrist that yanked you up from your chair and pulled you into a bone crushing hug.

Before you could see who it was or understand what was happening, the unknown person leaned down to your ear and whispered. “I know you don’t know me but don’t say anything. Just play along.”

Leaning back, he wrapped his arm around your shoulder and smiled brightly when he saw your shocked and confused face. Tapping your nose with his index finger, he chuckled loudly before hugging you tighter. “Yah, aren’t you happy to see your boyfriend?”

Wait, what?!

The Elsewhere Child

He was supposed to take my memories when he brought me here, the seelie knight, who had been commanded to escort me home with a simple “take it away, it’s too old now and it bores me” from the noble who had kept me for the past while. I traded him my singing voice for them though, and now where once sweet music poured from my lips only hoarse and untuned notes fall out without any of the tempo or melody they had before. Now I think I made a bad trade. It might have been better, if I didn’t remember, or remembered something else entirely.

I stare at the boy next to me in the circle, I was asked to join this circle as a way to make me feel part of something, part of a circle. They call the circle a support group for abducted children. Children who were abducted and got away, that is, I don’t think there’s a support group for those currently abducted. Their abductors wouldn’t allow them to attend, I suppose. The boy is speaking about the man who touched him, speaking of the horrible way he loved that man, because he was a child, and he had to love someone. Are his memories true? Or is he like me? Did a faerie take him away, and replace the memories from Under the Hill with these tragedies? Why? Did he commit some crime? I cannot say.

I am fascinated by the girl who sits next to the girl directly across from me in the circle. She tells us to call her Angie. She wears ratty clothes, not the sort of poor chic that seems to be an underlying trend, with jackets made of patches and ribbed cloth sold at malls, but real grunge. The tears in her sleeves reveal razor scars, her hair is short, she wants to look tough, she wants people to cross the street to get away from her when they see her coming. She is not tough. She is nervous, always nervous, always afraid, though she hides it well. None of these things are too interesting to me, those things I can see anywhere, but I thought context would be important so that the fact that she’s a pathological liar would not be the only thing you knew about her.

She is a pathological liar.

Her lies fascinate me.

After group chat, I take her aside and we talk, sometimes just for a few minutes, sometimes for hours, and I watch her fabricate thousands of untruths, from tiny white ones to huge fantastical ones as bright and colorful as her life has never been. Some days, I believe everything she says and some days I question each word, trying to figure out her secret.

It’s a strange thing, I was taken before I really knew my name, and each faerie that’s kept me (I was a pet for them) called me something different. Do I even have a true name? I’ve been Jane Doe since I showed up, stumbling barefoot and confused into a police station moments after midnight (at least the knight knew to leave me near a place of authority), so I’ve been introducing myself as Roe, like the deer. They ran my DNA through the missing children’s database (I didn’t understand what that was at first, was shocked at how closely humans had approximated magic with computers), but there was no match. I told them I didn’t know how long ago I’d been abducted, and suggested that it might have been before the database was made. They laughed and said I was eighteen, and DNA technology had been around much longer than me. I tried to explain that time was different where I had been kept, but they simply patted me on my head and told me they were sure that it seemed that way to me at the time.

They stared at me worriedly when one of them brought me a McDonald’s Happy Meal, and I asked what she wanted for it. She told me nothing. No one here ever asks for anything besides courtesy in return for their food, but old habits are hard to break. Even now, in my foster home, I cannot help insisting that my hosts confirm that this food is a gift freely given. They asked me to help them cook and I broke down in tears because there was a cast iron skillet on the stove (“Please don’t make me, iron burns, iron burns, and it gets under your skin and makes you go grey and lifeless like a flower severed from its roots, plea-please, please don’t make me”). It took them an hour to convince me that they weren’t trying to force me to poison myself, and the food burned (“I said I would help you, you asked me to cook and I agreed, but, but please don’t make me, it burns, it’ll burn me!” “It’s alright darling, you don’t have to cook if you don’t want to.” “But I said I would! It was an oath!” “We’re sorry, we wouldn’t have asked if we’d known it would upset you, you can help some other way if you like.” “You… absolve me of my oath?” “Yes, of course we do darling!”).

I am more comfortable with iron now, I am not one of the Fair Folk, after all, it will not harm me. Correction, a blade of iron would harm me, but not because it was made of iron. It does, however, mess with my glamor.

It is a difficult thing, growing up bathed in magic and yet to have none of your own. A pixie once spoke of how she envied my hair, and I said, on impulse, “do you want it?” So a trade was made. She gave me the ability to change my appearance, and she walked away with my hair. I expected my hair to grow back after a time though… it did not. With my glamor I can have the appearance of having whatever hair I please, and sometimes I change it daily, but when I sleep or when iron is near my bare head is revealed. It is assumed by my hosts and everyone around me that I have many wigs, I have told them I do not, but they don’t believe in magic, so they insist on believing this instead.

I hide when I hear thunder, duck into a bathroom and put everything on backward and inside out if I’m in public, or simply sit quiet if I’m home. The first time I did this, it shook me to my core when someone told me “You know, your shirt is on backward.” I started to panic, until I realized that I could see myself too. It was a revelation, discovering that there was something humans could see that the Good Neighbors couldn’t.

It still boggles my mind how much people throw away, tears and menstrual blood caught on napkins, or gifts from that one aunt that they held onto for so long for the sentimental value but can’t keep now because they have to move into a smaller apartment, or the shirt they can’t wear anymore because it smells like their ex. They could trade these items to faeries for so many things, and yet they simply throw them away. What a waste.

My hosts insisted I should have a proper education, and after three years of homeschooling (to get me caught up) I applied to attend the local state college. There I found more people who fascinate me the way Angie does. There’s Lisa, who fights for animal rights, and Kyle, the leader of the Gay Straight Alliance group, and Riley, who’s going into the Peace Corps next year because they want to help the world. I ask them all the time why they do what they do, what they expect to get back, and they tell me that ideally they’ll make the world a better place, and that will pay them back eventually, but that they don’t do it for what they’ll get back, they do it because it’s right. I don’t understand. There’s Cheyenne, who always gets into intense political debates with other people over dinner in the cafeteria, and she believes so intensely about things that don’t even affect her, and she fights for them, and she tells me she does this because it’s right, and I don’t understand. I’ve never met anyone who cared about anything other than themselves Under the Hill. Faeries can’t lie, they can’t go back on their word, they honor their deals and make sure you honor them too, they repay debts and ensure they’re repaid in turn, they amuse themselves playing or squabbling over power, but they do not do things for free. They don’t care about things for free. They don’t defend the innocent, protect the weak, or forgive the ignorant. The culture shock coming here is bewildering.

If I could I’d honor my debts, leave a pile of gold at the doorstep of everyone who’s done me a kindness, but I have not the magic to do so. The drainage ponds hold no sirens, the falling snow has no frolicking pixies between its flakes, there is no magic for me to use here… or is there?

Perhaps I can’t call upon the magic Under the Hill, perhaps I can’t summon gold or make deals with darklings, but I can find magic here, I’ve seen others do it. I’ve seen a moon so beautiful it sends shivers down your spine captured by a little lense-box and put onto thick shiny paper. I’ve seen songs and stories written with such emotion that it moves those who hear them to tears, to laughter, to dancing, to life. I’ve seen kitchen witches cure colds with hot chicken soup, and I’ve seen holy men ward off tricksters they can’t even see with the power of their belief.

Perhaps I can find a way to create my own magic, and do what other people seem to strive to do to repay their debts. Perhaps I can make the world a better place, and learn the magic of humanity. And as for the places where magic does live? Where the boundary between worlds is thin and the drainage ponds and snowflakes carry faerie magic within? …I think I’ll be staying far away, for my part. I might still have a lot to learn, but I think I like it better here.

3

Jaded

For @extremeglittercollector…R/N means random name and f/c means favorite color, enjoy!

Loki’s face lit up with the broadest face he could muster. He looked to his brother, Thor, before returning his gaze to his mother.

“Her name’s Y/N?” he asked.
Frigga nodded. “Yes. And Thor’s soulmate is named R/N.”
“Y/N,” the young Loki muttered, “It’s beautiful.”
“Frigga,” Odin’s voice boomed.

The woman set her jaw and stood to face her husband. She raised her chin slightly. The man, however, wasn’t backing down. Loki stepped behind his mother for a moment, watching his father quizzically.

“You know the names are forbidden to be known,” Odin declared.
“Why should they be?” Frigga countered, “The least they could know is their name.”
Odin sighed. “You know that isn’t how it works.”
Frigga took a deep sigh. She lowered her gaze in understanding.
“You know what you must do,” Odin muttered before leaving.

When the man was gone, Loki turned his gaze to his mother. She offered the boys a small smile as she crouched low.

“What did father mean?” Loki asked.
“Oh, nothing,” Frigga cooed.

Gently, and with her magic, she brushed her fingers over their foreheads. Their young eyes closed as she pulled the memory from their mind. She sighed while having to replace the memory with something else. When the boys opened their eyes, she knew it had worked. Unfortunately, it may have done more than she anticipated, for Loki’s features darkened ever so slightly.

Did a part of him still know what had occurred?


Years Later…

Loki was thrown from his ride and into one of the apartment complexes, crashing through glass and plaster. He groaned, before rolling to stand. He brushed off his arms before hearing the faintest of squeaks. His glowing green eyes searched the room, eventually falling upon a woman in the corner of her room.

His mouth opened the slightest while cocking his head to the side. Her frightened gaze met his as he took another step forward.

Suddenly, he saw a f/c light loitering right in front of her chest. Shocked, he looked back into her eyes. Seeing her shocked expression focused on something other than his face, Loki looked down. A similar glow, though green in color, was acting nearly identical as the light in front of Y/N.

The trickster’s eyes widened when he realized the green light was coming from inside of him. His heartbeat picked up when he saw his green light shoot upwards, toward the ceiling. His let out a breath when he saw the f/c light mirroring the green.

The two luminescent beams twirled around each other, as well as over and under. The two lights intermixed for a few mesmerizing moments. Suddenly, the f/c beam shot toward Loki the same time the green beam shot toward the woman. The lights disappeared into their chests.

“Y/N,” Loki muttered, his distant memory returning.
“Loki,” she whispered, slightly terrified, “That’s your name isn’t it?”

Loki grit his teeth. How could his own mother do this to him? Why was it so important that Odin see to it their memories be erased? He took the most beautiful thing from him only moments after learning of it. He hid the name of his soulmate! Loki let out an angry roar, aligning with the chaos outside.

“How could those cowards do this to me!” he hollered, “The one beauty in my life, and they ripped it away!”

Despite being scared and confused, Y/N got to her feet. Trembling slightly, she closed the distance between her and Loki. Tenderly, she placed her hand on the nape of his neck. Frustrated tears prickling his eyes, he returned his gaze to hers. He lowered his head, letting out a breath.

“Why did they keep me from you?” he whispered.
“I…I don’t know,” she uttered, voice evening out slightly, “I still don’t know what that all meant.”
He chuckled, despite himself. “It means we’re soulmates, Y/N.”

His thumb caressed her knuckles on her free hand. Without lifting his head, he kissed the back of her hand. He hadn’t even thought about how she felt about it. His mind returned to the cacophony of destruction outside. He gulped. They kept his soulmate from him, and now he wasn’t going to be able stay with her. Not after all this.

Loki slowly let go as he stepped further away from her. Y/N, some part of her understanding, teared up as she watched him back away. He raised his gaze to hers one last time, taking the entirety of her in: every bit of her was beautiful.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized.

Without looking, the trickster leapt out of the apartment complex. Overcome with worry, Y/N bolted for the opening.

“Loki!” she shouted.

In the middle of the chaos, she could only see the green and gold swinging from alien to alien. Her heart sank when she realized he wasn’t coming back. It wasn’t for another hour until Thor, of all Avengers, came and pulled her out of the building. She was too distraught to explain anything, just accept the situation. Her eyes, on the other hand, continued looking for any spot of green she could find.

Perma-tags: @dontbeamenacetotheforce @ttelesilla @jumperswellies @caitsymichelle13
Marvel tag: @ladysigyn221

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Captain Swan Fic Masterlist!

As promised here is my own Captain Swan smut Masterlist! These are all rated M (with a few exceptions) and I hope you enjoy! I will for sure be adding to this as time goes on. And if you have any that are your favorites that aren’t on this list, let me know! I love reading more! Some fic’s on this list are a given, but others you may not have read before. I tried to organize it the best I could. I hope you like them and have fun reading;)

Season 2

Emma and Killian beanstalk smut and first time.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/11307650/16/Tumblr-Prompts

Early season two smut, where hook captures Emma and but later feels bad and lets her go.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8774035/1/Pirate-Persuasion

Angsty smut in the alley behind Granny’s when hook finds a way to get to Storybrooke in season two and asks her some questions.

https://www.fanfiction.net/s/8812699/1/Within-Temptation

Keep reading

I’ll remind you

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: angst, slight swearing, death of a child, some fluff 

Word count: 2090

Summary: After a hunt gone terribly wrong the reader reveals a little secret to Dean to comfort him.

A/N: Omg guys I almost cried while writing the first half of this. Btw if someone already wrote a fic like this I’m gonna die. I was so proud when I had this idea lol. Gif is not mine [x] 

Silence. Silence was surrounding you; it weighed heavy on your chest and made you feel helpless and lost.

Dean drove the Impala through the dark night without saying one word. His grip on the steering wheel was so tight that you could see his knuckles turning white. The only sounds you could hear were the engine of Baby and the rain which drummed wildly on the roof of the car. Sam was fast asleep after the exhausting hunt you guys had just finished. You on the other hand couldn’t sleep; you were trying to focus on which raindrop would make it down the window, you were staring at, the fastest. Images of the hunt that had gone terribly wrong flashed through your mind. Tears burned in your eyes, blinking them away quickly you tried to think of something else.

This time it was really bad. It had been a kid. Jake Simmons.

The three of you had tried everything to save him in time before the vampire who had captured Jake and his parents, who were dead long before him, could hurt him.

When you had arrived at the nest it was too late. The little boy, who was no more than five years old had laid there on the cold floor of an abandoned warehouse. His clothes were all bloody and his teddy bear was a few feet away from him, also stained with blood.

Every time you closed your eyes, the sight of his lifeless body would send shivers down your spine.

So you silently sat in the backseat, with Jake’s bloody teddy bear clutched in your shaking hands, while trying to ignore the urge to cry uncontrollably.

Keep reading

Long Lost Love: Pt. 2

Pairing: Kol x Kai x Reader

Warnings: Kidnapping

Word Count: 2498 aka a lot longer than part 1

PART ONE | PART THREE | PART FOUR


Today, there’s a free music festival going on in the lovely city of New Orleans. The weather is amazing and all you see is happy faces surrounding you. Freya joined you and Kol, then ended up heading back home after a couple of hours to help out Elijah. Klaus was miles away taking care of what he called ‘business’.

As you were dancing to the upbeat music with the rest of the crowd on the freshly cut grass, Kol left to buy the two of you a beer. Wine was never your thing.

Moments later, you were at a loss for breath from all the dancing, so you stepped aside from the crowd to quickly rest. Admiring the music and soaking up the sun felt just amazing, but that fun soon vanished because a hand covers your mouth and you quickly pass out.

Finally, you wake up sitting on a chair. But this time, you aren’t at the festival. You are in an unfamiliar place, an empty warehouse from the looks of it. The first thing you tried to do was stand up and stretch, but your hands were tied behind you with vervain ropes. It stung like a motherfucker. “What the hell?! What is this?” You said aloud to yourself.

You hear footsteps approaching you, so you turn to face whoever it is. “You’re awake! Great!” The stranger says. He was a tall, dark male wearing blue jeans and a black t-shirt.

“Who are you? What am I doing here?” You wiggled your wrists, but the vervain only pierced your skin once again.

“You’re Klaus’s precious sister in law right?” He asked with a smirk on his face.

“Do you see a ring on my finger? No. At least not yet.” You spat.

“Who cares. I needed someone to get to him. And you were the easiest target. Poor Kol is probably wondering where you are.”

“Well Klaus isn’t in town. And even if he was, screw you.” You looked at him in disgust. There was no way you were going to rat out Klaus’s whereabouts. Especially to any enemy. No matter the consequences.

“Feisty one you are. Damn!” The man yelled in amusement and you scoffed at him. He sure was annoying.

“Since you won’t tell me where he is. Maybe this will help.” You furrowed your brows at his statement, then suddenly, his eyes turned yellow, revealing his fangs and didn’t hesitate to take his time sinking his teeth into your neck. The pain took over you, making you scream your lungs out. A werewolf bite is lethal to vampires and you thought to yourself how dead you are.

Finally, he stopped, but the dead weight of his body laid on you and the next thing you know, you see Kol above him, ripping his heart out of his back. Kol then threw his body off of you like a piece of trash.

“Oh my god, Kol. Thank goodness.” You sighed in relief. Your boyfriend sure is your savior.

“Hello darling.” Kol smiles as he’s wiping the blood on his hand to his shirt, then he quickly goes over to release your wrist from those damn ropes. He can handle the stinging of vervain way better than you can. “That’s a rather nasty bite you have there. Are you alright?” He added because he didn’t see it healing.

“Yup. Werewolves.” You shook your head as your were watching your wrists heal.

Kol cups your cheeks with his palms to draw your attention to his face. “I’ll call Nik so that he can cure that godforsaken bite.” He plants a kiss on your forehead, then reaches in his pocket for his phone to call Klaus.

“I should’ve listened to Elijah when he said for me to keep viles of Klaus’s blood. Now look where I am.” Luckily for the Mikaelsons, a werewolf bite won’t ever kill them, you were the odd one out.

“Not to worry, darling. He’s only a town away, last I heard.” Kol put his phone to his ear, waiting for Klaus to answer.

“Douchebag.” You sneered, looking down at the man that kidnapped and bit you.

“There you are, baby girl!” You flinched from the loud voice that wasn’t Kol’s. You couldn’t believe who it is. It was no other than your ex boyfriend, Malachai Parker walking in. This has to be the side effect of the werewolf bite making you delusional. But no, you noticed that Kol sees him too. “Out of all places you could be. New Orleans? Really?” Kai added, tilting his head in confusion.

You were speechless. Frozen. How is Kai he even here? The last time you saw him was years ago when Damon separated his head from his body. But you have to admit, he damn sure looks good.

“I’ll ring you later, brother.” Kol says to Klaus over the phone and hangs up. Kol looked confused as ever at the fact that you didn’t deny knowing Kai and you just stood there not saying a word.

“And who the bloody hell are you?!” Kol asks angrily.

“I’m her lover, duh. Cool accent by the way.” Kai jokes, then approaches you to look at your bite but Kol stops him by pushing his hand on his chest.

“Pardon?” Kol narrowed his eyes at Kai.

“Hmm…Did I stutter? Yeah. I don’t think so.” Kai quickly grabs Kol’s hand and siphons his magic. Kol tries to fight it, but he failed as he was weakening to the floor.

“Stop! That’s enough!” You vampire sped up to your boyfriend and your ex boyfriend, putting yourself in between the two. “First of all, how are you even here?” You asked Kai.

“Long story, babe. But please tell me who is this vampire that is that’s getting all worked up. You got a body guard now?”

“Kai, this is my-” You paused. “-boyfriend, Kol. He’s an original.”

“Yeah originally annoying. But ouch. I have to admit, that cuts deep.” Kai fake pouted on the outside, but on the inside, he was pretty hurt that you moved on while he was stuck loving you all these years. “And don’t tell me he’s the one that turned you. That was supposed to be my job.”

“Yes. But it’s been years, Kai. Years.” You over exaggerated the word ‘years’ because it’s really been that long. “I’ve moved on. Not to mention, you killed Jo. You killed all of those people. If you ran off with me instead we wouldn’t even be in this position.”

“This is enough. It’s no time to reminisce, love. Leave him be.” Kol looked at you while grabbing your waist, then looked at Kai. “Leave her be.”

“At least let me siphon her nasty bite.” Kai implied.

“She-WE don’t need your assistance. My brother’s blood will happily do the trick.” Kol glared, pulling you closer to him. Jealousy definitely took over him that he had to be stubborn.

“Kol, it’s alright. Let him help me.” You insisted.

Kol took a deep breath, scowling at Kai. “Fine. But make it quick.”

As Kai is siphoning your bite, he whispers in your ear. “This is what you really want?”

You looked back and forth between Kai & Kol. The old memories with Kai flooded your thoughts, but you fought it, replacing it with memories of Kol instead. “Yes Kai. This is.” You said while making eye contact with Kol. You knew that he was listening. And finally, that werewolf bite was all gone.

“Alrighty then.” Kai turned you around so that he’s hugging you from behind, then cloaks the both of you. 

“Let go of me! Let go of me now, Kai!” You instantly try to free yourself from his grip but he was too strong, especially with the help of him siphoning some of your magic as well while he’s holding onto you. 

“Y/N! Y/N!” Kol cries out for you. He looked around 360 degrees and couldn’t see you or hear you, but you were right in front of his eyes.

“Don’t worry, babe. Your little boyfriend can’t see you. Boo hoo.” Kai’s voice started to fade as you were passing out from his constant siphoning.

(1 Hour Later…)

Waking up feels like deja vu. Only this time, it was your ex kidnapping you for your affection, not some stranger looking to kill you. Instead of waking up in that warehouse this time, you were on a bed in what looks like a hotel room. Kai was sitting on the edge of the other bed waiting for you to wake up.

“So….How was your nap?” Kai asked smiling.

You instantly vampire sped up to him, grabbing him by the collar. “Kai what the hell is going on?” You were so enraged that your eyes turned red and veins started forming under your eyes.

“Aw, someone’s groggy from their nap.” Kai joked, but you weren’t laughing. 

“This isn’t a fucking joke. You kidnapped me! My supposed-to-be-dead ex boyfriend kidnapped me!” You shouted, tightening your hold on his collar.

“Okay okay. First of all, you can let go of me now.” Kai uses his strength and grabs your arms, pushing you so that you’re sitting across from him on the bed, then he started walking back and forth from the nightstand to the TV. “And secondly, I just missed ya, puddin. I thought maybe we can hang without that Mikaelson pest that you’re grossly screwing.” 

“And how do you know that I wont try to escape?” You straightened yourself sitting on the bed, crossing your arms in front of you.

“Trust me, sweetie. You won’t. Because if you do, i’d happily put your boy toy in a sleeping spell how I did Elena.”

“You wouldn’t.” You exhaled through your nostrils, giving Kai a death stare.

“Oh I would. And good luck asking Bonnie for the spell because last I heard, her and the Mikaelsons aren’t exactly buddy buddy. Unless, she and rest of your gang know about you being with Kol Mikaelson.” 

Kai was right. Bonnie and the rest of your friends would like Kol dead just as much as Kai. Not to mention, the part where they have no idea that Kol is even alive. There’s no need to get them involved in this funny business at all.

“Okay, so basically you kidnapped me in hopes I’ll fall in love with you again? Yeah Kai, that makes perfect sense.” The sarcasm in your voice was hard to miss. The word ‘love’ triggered Kai. He stopped his pacing and sat next to you on the edge of the bed.

“You know I’ll never in my life hurt you. A day, all I need is a day. Maybe two to make up for lost time. And if you still want to be with that pathetic vamp, then I’ll let you go.” Kai frowned.

“Okay fine. Deal.” You agreed. “At least let me tell Kol that I’m safe. I know he must be worried.”

(Meanwhile…)

“We need to find her!” Kol commanded to Freya, breaking his bourbon glass he had in his hand. His voice was so loud that you can probably hear it all around the compound.

Freya had her witchy knick knacks laid out on the table including a map and your hair brush to try and locate you. “Just calm down. I’m trying. But he must be using a cloaking spell on her because it’s like she doesn’t exist.” Freya made known.

“What’s going on? What’s with this shouting, Kol?” Rebekah rushed into the room.

“Y/N’s past lover took her and vanished because she chose me.” Kol said as he was pacing back and forth.

“What? Who?” Rebekah asked.

“Some wanker named Kai. What I heard, he was dead and now he’s alive.” Kol turned his attention back to Freya. “Please Freya, I must find her.” There was desperation in Kol’s eyes as if he was afraid. Either he was afraid to lose you to Kai or he was afraid that Kai will hurt you.

“Do you think he’ll hurt her?” Freya started to feel worried at how upset her brother is.

“How should I bloody know?” Kol started losing his patience.

“Trust me, he won’t. That boy loves her.” Rebekah implied. 

At one point you’ve told only Rebekah all about your relationship with Kai because she was always there whenever you needed an ear. There was no way you were going to vent to Kol about him. She’s also confident in her answer because from personal experience, no matter what goes down between Marcel and the Mikaelsons, Marcel would never lay a hand on Rebekah because he loves her.

Kol’s phone starts to ring in his pocket, so he quickly took it out in hopes that it’s you calling. Lucky for him, it is you that’s calling, Kol’s eyes lit up and he answered it immediately. “Y/N. Where are you? Are you safe? Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine. I’m safe. I don’t know exactly where I am but don’t come looking for me.” You informed Kol.

“What? Are you mad? What has he done to you?”

“He needs me for two days and if I try to leave or if you come for me within that time span, he’s going to put you under a spell that even Freya can’t reverse. Kai won’t hurt me. I promise.”

“So the two of you expect me to just do nothing and wait for you to come home then?” The thought of you spending time with Kai made Kol sick to his stomach. You’re his and only his. He doesn’t want anyone else getting in the way of that.

“Pretty much.” 

Kol snapped. “That’s rubbish! You tell that bastard I’ll tear him limb from limb if he dares to lay a finger on you.”

“Kol, I love-” Kai takes the phone from your hand and breaks it in half. Tossing it behind him on the middle of the bed.

“Wow. He sure is violent.” Kai felt no guilt disrupting your phone call.

“You’re so annoying.” You scoffed, grabbing the nearest pillow, smacking Kai in the chest with it. This is the man you have to put up with for the next 48 hours. You felt terrible for how worried Kol is going to be, you’re just hoping that he doesn’t lash out and go on a killing spree or something.

“Yup. But remember, you loved me at one point and I’m hoping to bring that spark back you know.” Kai smirked. 

“Yeah yeah yeah.” You rolled your eyes. Yes, you did love Kai at one point and part of you will always have love for him, but you have Kol and he’s just an outstanding lover and friend. From listening to your gossip to telling you how much he loves you before bed and even making you coffee every morning.

“Alright come on. Go freshen up.” Kai patted your thigh as he lunged off of the bed. “We’re going out.”

Don’t Turn Around (Steve Rogers x reader)

Requests: 

1. Can I have a one shot/fic where the reader is 18 and an avenger. She instantly became close to Steve and he’s like a protective older brother, and they’re really close. One day they all go on a mission and she tells Steve that she has a bad feeling. Sometime during the mission she goes missing. Steve is a wreck & about 6 months later they find her. When they do she’s completely broken. Shattered. She doesn’t say anything to any of them on the ride back and there’s an occasional whimper.  When they fix the physical damage she goes back to her room, and she doesn’t really leave it. They all try talking to her but she just doesn’t say much back. One night Steve wakes up in the middle of the night and just hears of crying. So he goes in to comfort her like any big bro would. Once she’s settled she tells Steve every single detail of what she went through and he finds it’s worse than what he imagined.  (It’s already angsty, so I didn’t go into these details)

2. Omg, requests are open. I was wondering if you could write a Steve x reader where they are dating and she gets captured by hydra, so Steve looks for her, finds her and helps her recover

As he sat in the back of the quinjet, relinquishing his control and allowing Sam to fly, Steve sat with an eerie stillness, with the exception of the bounce in his leg to demonstrate the withering of his last moment of patience.  His muscles were rigid and his fists clenched, with closed eyes that allowed the torturous images to continue in an endless loop like a bad movie stuck on repeat. You had told him that something felt wrong before that last mission together.  You told him that you thought they should retreat back, but as usual, he didn’t listen.  He didn’t listen, and now it had been six months since he had last seen you. Because of his own damn insistence on thinking he knew best, you were missing and this was the first lead that they had caught the trail of in that whole time. 

“Steve, I swear, you’re shaking the whole jet. Stop it.”

Keep reading

unidentifiedblackthorn  asked:

we were forced to hide in this very cramped space (from friends/authority figures/people trying to kill us) and this is a very awkward position to be stuck in with someone you’re avoiding because they’re too attractive for you to deal with” au WITH RHYS AND LUCIEN?? PLS??? I CRY???

this was for the prompts from a while ago!! still doing them, it’s just taking me 5ever lol. BUT THANK U FOR THIS GIFT IM ALSO CRY. 

WHO IS READY FOR RHYCIEN?????

———————

“Get off me, you idiotic–”

“You’re the one who’s on me, you get off.”

But there is nowhere to go, and after a few moments of futile struggle, Lucien is forced to settle with his shoulder wedged against the door, half being poked by the cleaning supplies sticking from the shelves in this comically small maintenance closet, and half with Rhysand flush against him, their limbs askew and intertwined as they’re posed to avoid randomly hung buckets and mops.

Lucien swears and Rhysand asks, almost incredulous, “does the Fall Court not believe in adequate storage space?”

“Couldn’t you just replace all their memories with giant squids or something?” Lucien snaps in response, “Cauldron boil me, you’re supposed to be this all-powerful godlike creature and we’re hiding in a closet–”

Rhysand puffs out a laugh and Lucien can feel it on his ear. “I am an all-powerful godlike creature, first of all. And there should be an ‘extraordinarily handsome’ somewhere in there too.”

Insufferable. Insufferable. That he is, in fact, extraordinary handsome, and the slight implication that he knows Lucien thinks that… there are so many awful people in this court it seems impossible that Rhysand could introduce him to new ways to hate a person, but here they are, pure frustrated loathing coursing hot through Lucien’s veins as they hide from the Fall Court guards.

It is entirely Rhysand’s fault, a stunning highlight to this diplomatic trip that seems to have been planned with the specific goal of making Lucien’s life difficult every turn. Today Rhysand had been taking an uncomfortably close look at one of the Fall Court heirlooms, when he definitely had no business being unaccompanied in the vaults–Lucien had stumbled across him and must have startled him, because Rhysand dropped the precious glass artifact he was inspecting, and the sound of shattering was met with cries from the guards and the sounds of approaching boots. A mutual look of fury and fear–neither prince wanted to be associated with the crime, much less face Beron’s wrath for it–and they’d taken off down the hall, since winnowing was magically disabled in the palace. Lucien had been the one to pull them into a closet as the guards drew closer, and as Rhysand’s elbow digs further into his side, he regrets it fervently. His father’s retribution–or almost anything–would have been better than enduring this. It’s pitch black in the closet, and the darkness is heightening his other senses: Rhysand is warm and firm against him, and Lucien is discovering nuances in Rhysand’s scent, thick between them, something like saltwater under the citrus-musk, and he likes it and he hates that he likes it.

Rhysand goes on after a pause; Lucien suspects it’s because he can’t handle the mere suggestion that he’s less powerful than he’s supposed to be.

“In any case, the peace between Night and Fall is tenuous–”

“It gets more tenuous with every passing second of your knee jamming into my thigh.”

Rhys pauses to make a huffy little show of being interrupted. “–As I was saying, is tenuous, and tampering with will or memories leaves traces, if you know where to look. Your father employs people who know where to look. I’d like to not endanger that peace by giving anyone cause for suspicion.”

“Yes, we certainly wouldn’t want you, sneaking around the vaults alone and fondling ancient magical items, to seem suspicious.” Lucien loads it with as much venomous sarcasm as possible.

“Interesting word choice.”

“Oh, you’re going to distract me from your snooping with innuendo? Very mature behavior from a High Lord apparent.”

“I’m not the one who said fondling.” A pause, and Lucien can hear the filthy smirk in Rhysand’s voice when he adds, low and breathy, “And I could distract you with a lot more than innuendo, if I wanted to.”

The points where their bodies press into one another suddenly feel very heavy, and the air around them very thin. Lucien is going to kill him. He’s going to set all of Rhysand’s clothes on fire at once; even if Lucien gets third degree burns by proximity and/or murdered by Night Court spies in retaliation it’ll be worth it.

“Do you just go through life assuming everyone in the world is insatiably attracted to you?” He hisses.

Rhysand hums faintly. “Mostly. I tend to be right, though.”

How can he be so casually haughty, so at ease in this ridiculous pose they’re holding? How in the world does this not phase him?

And what would it take to break that cavalier composure of his?

Lucien feels the urge to try, one way or another, throttle him or kiss him, something, anything, to bring him down to some part of Lucien’s emotional level of lusting contempt. He manages, with great effort, to ignore it and lie instead.

“Consider me an exception.”

“Really?” It’s an amused little purr. “You’ve never thought about me fondling anything other than glass trinkets?”

“Incredibly, I find arrogance something of a turn-off,” Lucien bites out.

“I’m not sure I believe you. Maybe I should rifle around in your head and check.”

“Stay the fuck out of my mind, Rhysand,” Lucien snarls; aware that it’s bait, rising to it anyway. “I catch you trying to get past my shields and I swear I’ll—“

“You’ll what? Mouth off to me some more?” Rhysand says, sharply, baldly. Lucien feels thin fingers find his face in the dark, finds himself paralyzed with equal parts fury and heat as Rhysand traces the shape of his lips, his jaw.  “That temper of yours is going to get you into trouble, little Lucien. I hope you get as good at finishing things as you are at starting them.”

The nickname is too much.

Lucien snaps with something like a growl in his throat, and they collide with the clatter of cleaning supplies, door rattling as Rhysand shoves him against it, lips hot and seeking against Lucien’s. Hands grapple ungracefully, pulling, tugging, digging into clothing, both of them seeking to take; Rhysand tastes like sweat and the dust of the room and a bittersweet darkness, and Lucien is all teeth in search of more of it.

“You bit me,” Rhysand grunts, although it doesn’t stop his hand’s frenzied ascent up under Lucien’s now-untucked shirt to touch his bare chest.

“You called me Little Lucien,” Lucien pants petulantly, as Rhys latches onto his neck, sucking out his revenge.

“Well you are proving me wrong, aren’t you?” Rhys palms the generous bulge of Lucien’s hardening cock by way of explanation. “Not so little.”

Lucien holds back a groan, instead gritting out, “Fuck, I hate you.”

Rhysand chuckles, and Lucien kisses him again, rough, sloppy, just so he’ll shut up, for cauldron’s sake—

And then the world is bright, and they’re both tumbling backwards. Lucien hits the ground hard, arousal interrupted by the painful weight of Rhys landing almost entirely on top of him.

The poor maid who opened the door—and managed to dodge out of the way before her prince and the foreign dignitary he’s clearly making out with tumbled out—stands there in absolute shock, a hand clasped over her mouth.

“Sorry,” Lucien apologizes to her vaguely, feeling his shame return to him with his sense of sight.

———————

Rhysand rights himself and slips away before Lucien can finish calming the frazzled, embarrassed maid, and is mercifully absent for the rest of the day, as Lucien grows more and more mortified about the event. By the time he retires for the night, he’s considering hiding in his room for the remaining days of Rhysand’s visit and also maybe the rest of eternity.

But he opens the door to see Rhysand, calmly inspecting the contents of his desk.

“What are you doing here?” Lucien blurts, too surprised and lingeringly embarrassed to put any real hostility behind it.

Rhysand puts down whatever he was playing with, walks over to where Lucien is rooted to the floor with that brand of disaffected self-assurance that reminds Lucien: he hates him, he hates him, don’t make out with him again–

“We weren’t finished when we were interrupted earlier,” Rhysand murmurs, and kisses him.

Arrogant, entitled, presumptuous, insufferable, insufferable, insufferable–

Lucien’s resolve crumples like wet paper and he kisses him back, Rhysand’s night-cool aura washing over his senses, making him forget why this was ever a bad idea. Somehow they end up stumbling towards the bed, Lucien gripping the back of Rhysand’s neck as they tumble onto it.

“It’s Rhys, not Rhysand, when you come,” Rhys manages to get out against Lucien’s lips, somehow still imperious when he’s underneath Lucien, both of them flushed.

Lucien swears softly. “Only if you promise to stop talking.”

Kenny

You’re seventeen and “Kenny” means home in a way you never thought you’d know. It means safety, held tight in the arms of the first boy you’d ever fallen for who loved you back. It means stolen moments in hotel rooms and empty billet houses, hot kisses and skin against skin. It means being happy in a way you hadn’t thought was meant for people like you. It means everything going right for once.

You’re eighteen and “Kenny” hurts, a stab wound straight through the heart. It means finding that boy you loved on the bathroom floor, barely breathing, calling an ambulance and the Zimmermanns in complete shock, not even in tears. It means going first in the draft, a spot that should never have been yours. It means going to visit for the second time, ink barely dry on your NHL contract and a sour taste in your mouth—you weren’t the first choice; you never were. It means having a door slammed in your face, all but literally. It means breaking down in wrenching sobs in a hospital hallway. It means getting shut out and, once again, being reminded that love was never meant for the people as broken and fucked up as you.

You’re twenty and no one has called you Kenny in what feels like a lifetime. You nearly bit Swoops’ head off for trying, so one else has. You’re still not quite happy, but hoisting the Stanley Cup over your head helps. The first Cup for you, the first Cup for your team. It means so little, though, compared to the mid-season shakeups on the team prior to the win. The captain of the team retires with yet another concussion and you’re the one called in to receive the C along with the words that change everything—“we always wanted you, Kent. Even if Zimmermann hadn’t dropped out, we still would have taken you first.”

You’re twenty-one and your boy is back in the news, back on the hockey stage. You can return to Kenny, you think. He’s only playing NCAA, but you can give him a push. Your team has the cap space to take Jack Zimmermann, and management knows the Parson-Zimmermann legend. If they can get Zimms, they will. Your task is to woo him, both as the captain and as Kenny, to get him to leave college hockey behind, go to something bigger. It doesn’t quite go as planned, but you leave promising yourself that you’re going to get him.

You’re twenty-four and as soon as you see him you know that Kenny is lost forever. You see the way he looks at the little blond boy and the way his whole demeanor falls to shreds the moment he sees you. Later, “Kenny” falls from his lips, but it’s more a curse than the prayer it used to be. You try to talk to him, but he’s so shut off and you know that Zimms-and-Kenny is lost. It’s your eighteen-year-old heartbreak all over again.

You’re twenty-five and you’ve never really paid more than cursory attention to the Falconers before. They were just a few games out of the eighty-two, an expansion team that hardly posed a threat. A solid middle-of-the-road team. But then Zimms goes and signs with them and suddenly the Falcs are very much on your radar. Enough, at least, to make risky plays, pissing people off and generally amping up that smug persona you radiated on the ice. After Zimms scores to tie the game you lose your temper—not that anyone would know—and score in response, taking out the goalie instead of peeling off or stopping. As the call for a coach’s challenge rings across the ice, members of the Falcs take justice into their own hands and someone grabs you by your scruff, pulling you out of the scrum as he swears at you in Russian. As a lineman pulls you free you get a look at your aggressor and you definitely only slip from the change in pull on your body. He’s six inches taller than you, handsome even through the outrage that crosses his face as it’s announced that your goal stands. And later, as he fucks all thoughts of Zimms clear out of your head, you think that maybe you could be okay again.

You’re twenty-nine and you’re crying for the first time in over ten years. “Kenny?” Alexei asks worriedly from where he kneels in front of you. He has never called you that before, but in proposing he has gone through any name that could be used for you, the romantic fool. The name sounds so different rolling off a Russian tongue than a Quebecois one and you can see good memories replacing the bad as you nod frantically through your tears and let Alexei slide his ring onto your finger. “Love you, Kenny,” Alexei says as he rises to his feet and kisses you deeply.

You’ve come full circle. “Kenny” means home again. And you’re finally happy.

Jean Moreau is better now. Sure he still has his days where he’s cold and seems untouchable and where he feels like he’s never going to be enough for Jeremy but then Jeremy kisses him and it feels like the world could come crashing down around them, and he’d be fine as long as the both of them survived. And other days, even that isn’t enough. But in a few months, years, most of the wounds will have healed over and the ghosts of old aches will slowly be replaced by memories of kind touches over bruised skin and kisses over tender scars. He may not be completely fine, and he may never be, but he’s the best he can be right now, and that is enough.

A concept: Jon suggesting that they break tradition and marry somewhere else besides the godswood because he doesn’t want Sansa to be remined of her wedding to Ramsey and Sansa insisting it has to be in the godswood because they can’t break tradition and she wants to replace her memory there with Ramsey with a better one with Jon

Daylight finds its way
through star-studded skies
and morning dawns upon
slowly replacing
the fleeting memories
of night and its dreams
with a hope of
turning them into a reality.
—  Dawn, Shikha Singh