#about: hazel hawke

[newsatsix1986]

Glimpses of Bob and Hazel Hawke, Princess Diana and Kylie Minogue in The Newsreader’s S2 trailer...

Oh mannnnn the retro nerd in me is about to go absolutely FERAL 😍 KYLIEEEEEEEEE 😍 Holy crap we could get ‘I Should Be So Lucky’ or ‘The Locomotion’ in the sound track! I’m going to need a defibrillator if that happens! 😂

10th of September isn’t coming fast enough!

Update: It will be 'The Locomotion'! Here is the clip in question from the 1988 Bicentennial Concert!

[thisblogisaboutabook]

Based on this amazing ask.

Dark Thraller - Part 1

Azriel x HewnCity!Reader, Arranged Marriage

Something darker than the night itself lurks within the Hewn City. Something dark and lovely and his. Azriel suddenly finds himself with a bride that he never wanted but when their marriage may be the one thing that saves their world as they know it, duty trumps all.

The female watched from shadows behind the archway connecting a granite corridor to the throne room of the Hewn City, peering into the busy room. She could smell the fear simmering within the room, it stoked at her own power, building as it fueled her senses. She shouldn’t be here, to be caught could mean death, perhaps worse, but this was her only chance to find the Seer.

Azriel stood cross-armed, hazel eyes honed in on Elain Archeron as she gracefully meandered through the throne room of the Hewn City. Its lecherous denizens ogling her as if she were nothing more than a whore in a pleasure house. Her dress was modest, a whispy train of tulle falling from her shoulders and trailing behind her, the perfect decoy for hiding his shadows as they listened in for tonight’s intended target. The gown hugged her slim figure just enough to give a tease of the lithe female form beneath.

He rolled his eyes as he took her in, reminded of Cassian’s insistence that black wasn’t her color but he was wrong - she was the ethereal moon to the Night Court’s midnight skies.

———

Elain knew she did not belong here. Not within the stone walls of this forsaken city. Not because she was too fragile. No, despite the fact that her sisters coddled her and the rest of the Inner Circle treated her like a delicate flower that would wither at the slightest touch, it was often overlooked that she had slain the King of Hybern. Sure, Nesta received credit for the final blow, but it was Elain who had been vital that day.

She didn’t belong here because of its own inherent darkness that mingled so well with the darkness within her own soul. She’d always tried to make the best of life, but years of poverty, being forced into the cauldron, losing Graysen, an unrequited mating bond, their fathers death, being held captive in Hybern’s camp, nearly losing Feyre during Nyx’s birth, the strife didn’t hold a candle to the pain she felt from being granted the so-called “gift” of sight and having no way to decipher it. Her visions were not light and airy, they were dark and inky, ominous at best.

The few times she’d visited this sect of the Night Court, her visions plagued her. Glimpses of gods and shadows, sacrificed maidens, life and death. And then, there was last time. The collision of an outside force greeting her own power, something fearsome and yet- gentle.

Azriel’s shadows gave a tug on the cape of Elain’s gown, working of their own accord. To Azriel’s chagrin, the last time they’d been here his shadows pushed boundaries, ignoring commands to stand down as they searched the space. They’d trailed Elain who had a particularly concerning vision of shadows upon water and whispers of death.

With the concerns of Koschei following the events with the Queens on the continent, it was enough to garner another visit. So, here they were. Azriel watching Elain like a hawk as she and his shadows searched the place.

Eyes diverted away from Elain as the main act arrived, Rhys and Feyre loosening the grip on their power as the doors flew open- their steps echoing throughout the now silent chamber as the High Lord and High Lady approached the dais. The crowd, having learned from previous reprimand, fell to their knees before their rulers.

It was then that Azriel’s shadows completely shrouded Elain, granting her cover as she dipped down a corridor that Azriel had very clearly lectured them NOT to go down. He wasn’t about to risk Elain’s safety, even if it meant failing the mission at hand of garnering more sight into these possible Koschei visions.

Elain took no more than ten steps down the corridor when a voice startled her from the shadows. “You.”

Elain gasped as Azriel’s shadows created a wall of shadow before her.

Not to protect her - but to conceal the source of the voice.

How very strange.

A lump formed in Elain’s throat as she mustered her courage for a moment, composing herself before squaring her shoulders and holding her head high.

“Yes?” She asked.

“You’re the Seer.” The voice spoke again. Feminine. Young, likely twenty or thirty but it was hard to tell with the fae.

“I am.” Elain spoke firmly. “And you are?”

The voice started before turning into a strangled gasp. The shadows cleared for Elain to find Azriel, holding the female from behind with Truth-Teller against her throat.

“I know what you are.” His deep voice spoke into her ear, his heated breath sending chills through the female.

“Azriel.” Elain spoke. “She was only curious. She didn’t harm me.”

Azriel didn’t move a muscle, only lifting his hazel eyes from behind the female to meet Elain’s gaze. “You don’t know what she is. The danger you were in.”

The cool blade pressed against the female’s throat and if it wasn’t for the obvious threat she posed, Azriel would have had a hard time missing the way her body fit so enticingly against his, the way her ass-

He growled. “Quit it.”

“Quit what?” The female puzzled.

Through gritted teeth, Azriel warned, “Your powers will not affect me, Dark Thraller.”

Elain kept quiet but she didn’t miss the smirk that rose on the female’s face at that. There was something about this female that resonated with her. She had a gentle presence, soft in all the right places to enhance her feminine appearance in a way that would leave most underestimating her, yet Elain knew there was more to this female, something deeper, something darker than her bright eyes let on.

Someone who could understand her.

———————————

Keir burst through the dungeon door first, followed by the general of his Dark Bringer forces and his second in command, Lord Thanatos.

“Keir, how nice of you to join us.” Rhys mused. Arrogant smirk plastered on his face.

Rhys and Azriel had spent the past two hours with the female, named Y/N, in the dungeons of the Hewn City. She was a Dark Thraller. An incredibly rare power of ancient fae, until today, it had been thought of as myth. She could not only wield darkness and shadow on her own accord but she could steal it, borrowing directly from the source, hence Azriel‘s shadows obscuring her from Elain. It was fortunate that he’d taken her by surprise when he’d snuck up on her, able to pull his shadows from her thrall and regain them as his own. Though they weren’t particularly eager to return to his side. He was still pissed about that.

The fact that Keir had kept this female a secret was enough to chap Azriel’s ass too. Mor’s father should have reported the female the moment her powers manifested, yet, he’d hoarded her. And much like with Mor, Keir and Lord Thanatos planned to breed her, using her as a bargaining chip in an arranged marriage to some noble on the continent that she had never laid eyes on.

“Release my daughter, immediately.” Lord Thanatos boomed.

The female remained silent, still, but Azriel didn’t miss the way her skin paled at his command. Rhys let out a dangerous laugh, not the warm laugh of the brother Azriel knew so well, but the bitter laugh of a High Lord about to put a subordinate into his place, or the ground, depending on how generous he was feeling.

Both males froze in place, faces turning cherry red as they fought against invisible restraints. Rhys placed an errant hand into his left pocket, a cruel smirk plastered across his face. “It seems I have not given enough attention to the seat of my court in recent years if this is how its people choose to greet their High Lord.”

His violet eyes narrowed as he took a tone befitting of the most powerful High Lord in Prythian’s history. “Kneel”

And before they had a chance to do so on their own accord, Rhys forced them into a submission. A gentle - considering the force he was capable of - reminder that they were indeed the lesser males in the room.

Rhys released his hold on the males as they gasped for air, remaining knelt until their High Lord dismissed the formal stance.

“It seems, Keir, that you and Lord Thanatos have been keeping this little gem a secret.” Nodding his head toward the restrained female, who easily could have broken the shadows to her submission. A test, then. To see how impulsive she was with her power, what manner of control she practiced over it.

Azriel didn’t trust her. Thralling? Yes, a Dark Thraller typically attracted darkness and shadow with their thralling abilities but how far did her capabilities go? Could she work on the minds of those wielding darkness as well?

Azriel broke from his inner thoughts to find the female staring at him with wide eyes. She was nervous. He stepped closer to her, keeping his gaze firm and narrowed but to his surprise, the nervous energy surrounding her did not increase. In fact, she seemed to relax slightly.

That was certainly a first for him in these dungeons.

Azriel had been so focused on her that he missed the last bit of groveling from Keir and Lord Thanatos. His attention once again fixed on the males and his High Lord as Rhys summoned a large table and five chairs.

Keir scoffed. “This is a conversation for males, she-“ he spoke the pronoun with venom, “has no business in these affairs.”

Rhys waved a dismissive hand at the male. “I always forget what antiquated views you harbor. At this table, she has a place. In fact, she has more of a place here than you do, since you so rudely interrupted our-” interrogation “conversation.”

“Azriel.” Rhys nodded toward the bound female.

Begrudgingly, Azriel released his restraints on the female. She stood, slowly, maintaining eye contact with him as she smoothed her satin gown, the fabric clung deliciously to her curves but Azriel was most taken by those mesmerizing eyes of hers as they held his cold stare. No malice, or hatred lay in her own eyes, the emotion was something that made his heart lurch. The same look a snared creature would give a hunter that held its fate in their hands, the same look a young boy once gave his cruel half-brothers as fuel soaked his hands while they held the flaming match.

Y/N broke her eye contact and approached the table, holding her head high. To her- and everyone in the room not named Rhysand’s - shock, he pulled the chair at the table’s head out and motioned for her to sit. He kept the arrogant mask plastered on and waited until she accepted that he was serious, shifting uncomfortably for a moment, before seating herself. That nervousness once again returning as she looked to the two Court of Nightmares males to her right.

Truly, Azriel didn’t trust her but he couldn’t bear to see that look on her face. He’d met her two hours ago and already knew she was too good to be intimidated by these pricks.

Azriel stepped to Keir, seated directly to next to her, Rhys seated to her left - and flatly commanded “move.”

Keir huffed an insidious laugh. “I don’t take orders from dogs.”

Azriel remained stoic, refusing to deign the pompous male with even a breath of irritation. He’d been called far worse

Rhys didn’t bat an eye at the command from his Spymaster, knowing Mor’s history, of course he would feel inclined to keep him distanced from a female stuck in a nearly identical situation as the one she was faced with all those centuries ago. “Keir, you truly are going out of your way to play the fool today. Keep it up and maybe we can reenact what happened to your arm the last time you disregarded the station of one of my Inner Circle?”

Keir bristled slightly before tucking his shoulders in a show of submission, pushing himself up, and swapping places with the Shadowsinger.

Azriel didn’t miss the slight ease of tension in Y/N’s jaw as he sat, though her heartbeat remained racing as indicated by the visible thrumming of her pulse in her neck and quickened breathing. His shadows gravitated toward her, intertwining with her ankles and then scurried away when she looked to them in a reprimanding manner.

By the rather adorable scowl furrowing across her brow, he had a feeling she hadn’t used her thralling abilities on them either. Interesting.

For all that they were excellent for spying, the things were incurably nosey to a fault.

Clearing his throat, Rhys began “It has been brought to my attention that lady Y/N is to be married to a male on the continent, not as a marriage of love but as one of title. Given her unique powers I propose that we arrange a marriage within our own court that will be both advantageous to the Night Court and to her in terms of power. Do you wish to elaborate on who you intend to marry her off to?”

Azriel noted the bead of sweat on Lord Thanatos’ brow as he glanced to Keir, vaguely-concealed concern flitting between the two.

Keir cleared his throat. “The male is simply a lesser-noble from a wealthy family on the continent. She is not worth the attention, your grace. Her power will be of no use to your court. They’re nothing more than an amusing party trick.”

Leaning back in his chair, Rhys held his chin between his thumb and forefinger in a show of consideration, before giving a grin. “I do enjoy parties. And it seems as if I could find a suitor that would be far more advantageous considering this unnamed lesser-noble is not even worth noting. Don’t you agree?”

Y/N seemed to shrink in her seat but what Azriel read on her face looked almost like “hope.”

What had she been put through for her future to be discussed as if she were nothing more than loose marks to be spent frivolously and still feel hope? He grit his teeth at the way Rhys carried on with the act, though he knew it was simply that- an act.

Silence filled the space and Azriel didn’t miss the way his High Lord’s gaze went vacant, communicating with someone. A small hitch in the breath of Y/N clued him in to exactly who he was communicating with.

“I’ve decided.” Rhys purred. “Lord Thanatos, your lovely daughter will wed my Shadowsinger.”

Outrage filled the room as the males let out shouts of disapproval before Rhys let his darkness fill the room. “Am I not High Lord? Do I not have final say in the affairs of my denizens?”

The males were silent. Rhys loosened his power further, a rumble sending loose dirt falling from the ceiling of the room onto the table before them. “I expect an answer.”

Lowering their gazes in submission, it was Keir who spoke first, “Yes, High Lord.”

Lord Thanatos let out a growl, shooting a violent glare in Keir’s direction.

“I expect an answer, Lord Thanatos.” Rhysand challenged.

After another moment, he finally caved in to the show of power. “Yes, High Lord.” The male growled.

The darkness faded as Rhys clapped his hands together. “Excellent. This evening just became far more interesting. We shall wed the two tonight!”

To his credit, Azriel said nothing, not one single show of disapproval or questioning.

“You two may be dismissed. We will coordinate the details of the wedding.”

As the two males, completely dumbfounded, exited the cell. The female looked to the floor, avoiding Azriel’s stony gaze- the gaze of her soon-to-be husband. Which was for the best as Azriel sent her a glare reserved for the worst of traitors. He did not want this, he wanted nothing to do with the female. His heart was destined to belong to the middle Archeron sister. He was to share his life with HER, not this strange enigma from the Hewn City.

Moments later, Elain and Feyre entered the room. Elain’s expression unreadable as they retrieved the female, Cassian and Nesta flanking them protectively as they led her off to prepare for the ceremony.

————

Rhysand knew he was a bastard. He took the corresponding show of rage from Azriel in stride, unable to disagree with the cold words and show of opposition to his order to marry the female.

What Azriel hadn’t seen was the terror Rhysand had gleaned in her mind. Her power was not a party trick, in fact she’d been hidden away beneath the Hewn City and put through rigorous training from the first moment her powers emerged. This female was trained to be used as a weapon and treated as such, there was nothing humane or loving about the environment she’d grown up in. But far more concerning than even the abhorrent conditions she had been brought up in was the undiluted panic regarding her impending nuptials. She indeed did not know who she was to be married to but she had suspicions.

Not to be wed to an unknown lord from the continent, not even to the highest ranking of nobility, but to a supreme being of death and decay, to Koschei himself.

And if her suspicions were correct, a power like hers in his hands would bring immeasurable suffering, an end to the world as they knew it. She was the token Keir needed to barter for his own rise to power. Ruling just the Court of Nightmares was never enough for a greedy bastard like him.

“The only way we can get her out of here is by wedding her to you tonight. If she’s wed, they have no contest to-” Rhys bristled as he spoke of the female as anything less than her own entity “They cannot claim ownership of her if she is wed. We cannot risk another moment of her being in their hands, Az. This marriage does not have to last forever, just long enough to ensure she is out of their hands and that we are in her good graces. Your duty is to keep her happy and protect her, if she ends up in the wrong hands, Azriel- more than just our own rule is at stake, Prythian, the world, could be doomed.

Guilt pressed in on the High Lord. If there were any other way, he would take it, but for now this was the most humane route.

And as Rhys shared the female’s suspicions of Koschei with Azriel, he understood. He hated every moment of this but he understood. He didn’t have to love her, he didn’t have to like her even, but he could stomach her as he did with any other undesirable duty.

_________

Azriel stood on the dais before a crowd of sneering Hewn City denizens. For this, his leathers would do. He was to send a message of power to the Court of Nightmares and removing his siphons would not do. Rhys and Feyre remained seated on their thrones appearing bored as they took in the quickly thrown together wedding, little more than wine and night-blooming jasmine marked the occasion. Though Rhys would have loved watching Lord Thanatos have to hand his daughter over to the Shadowsinger, he didn’t want him anywhere near her. She had dealt with enough coldness from the male in her twenty-five years of life, never again would she have to suffer through her father’s unkind hands upon her.

So, Azriel waited, his eyes focused solely on Elain as the doors opened and music began to play. Cassian would escort her to the dais. Azriel spared no glance to his bride as the audience turned in her direction. Even Elain who had caught his gaze briefly, and Lord Thanatos and his equally hateful wife who stood behind her, turned to marvel at the bride striding up the aisle. Azriel’s heart raced. He wanted Elain. His shadows pulled on him. Coaxing him to divert his gaze from the Archeron sister. No. He wanted Elain. His heart beat wildly as a tug pulled at him. He would not look. This female was not who his heart belonged to. He belonged to Elain. Azriel’s shadows hissed in his ears to look as his heart urged him to spare a glance in her direction.

Finally, he shifted his gaze and time stood still. Before him was the most beautiful female he’d ever seen. No longer did she appear meek, or nervous- she stood taller with her head held high. A cobalt blue gown hugged her curves, dipping down to reveal her ample cleavage, the fabric clung to the curve of her hips, caressing her upper thighs before flaring out toward the bottom. Her knuckles tightly gripped a bouquet of morningstar flowers and delphinium. Where the dress had been conjured from, Azriel had no idea. The flowers were likely Elain’s doing. He tried to turn his head back to Elain but he couldn’t bring himself to avert his gaze away from the beauty before him.

His shadows left his side, flowing down the aisle and swirling around the bottom of her gown, giving the appearance that they were carrying her to him. The crowd gasped at the illusion and Azriel noticed the surprise on her face. Either she was an excellent actress or she truly didn’t have the control over her powers.

But Rhys had said that she’d been trained from the time they manifested. Surely they weren’t going to her on their own accord. Was her thrall that powerful?

Azriel nearly felt his shoulders slump in disappointment as her gaze shifted to Elain who awaited at the foot of the dais to retrieve the bouquet.

As Elain stepped forward, a tear was heard followed by a gasp. Azriel looked to see that the bottom half of Elain’s dress had torn. Her cheeks flushed, eyes wide with shock. Before Azriel could react, he felt loss of control over his shadows as Y/N flung her arms out commanding them in Elain’s direction. Azriel’s heart lurched, fury clouding him at this attack on Elain, he stepped forward only to halt in his tracks as two shadows darted out to restrain Y/N’s mother, and the remaining shadows shrouded Elain completely.

Y/N hurried toward Elain, stepping into the confines of the shadows, now shrouding the both of them. Azriel almost smirked as Y/N’s voice loudly echoed from the shadows “Don’t mind her. She’s even uglier inside than that sneer she wears on her face, which says a lot.” A soft giggle from Elain reached Azriel’s ears. “Come on, let’s get you something else to wear. Can your sister bring some wine?”

The crowd parted as the shadowed females made their way out of the crowd, Nesta and Cassian following suit.

This female stopped her own wedding to come to the aid of a female she didn’t even know. Azriel didn’t know what to think of that but he did know that he couldn’t let himself fall for her. He wouldn’t let himself fall for her.

——————————————————

A/N: this will be a 2 or 3 part series! I am too tired to proofread so if there were a bunch of typos, no there weren’t.

Tags:

ACOTAR general: @lilah-asteria @thecollegecowgirl @mochibabycakes @nickishadow139

Requested tags based on previous excerpt posted: @erikan809 @thalia-as-blog

[hauntedtrait]

BUILD YOUR OWN VAMPIRE (a cas challenge by hauntedtrait)

I looove cas challenges, and I've been particularly enamored with these where you roll or pick attributes based on something about yourself, I also love vampires so I combined the two! The only rule is to have fun! Also, you don't HAVE to pick attributes based on yourself, you're entirely welcome to randomly roll for those too! Use the tag #ht: vampcas to showcase your creations!

The same list that is on the image is under the cut for accessibility.

birth month = color scheme

1-2: bloody red

3-4: demure pastels

5-6: earth tones

7-8: dark and moody

9-10: black & white

11-12: bright and colorful

favorite mythical creature = hair color

dragon: ginger

sphynx: brown

phoenix: blonde

unicorn: white

chimera: multicolored

hydra: fantasy colors

hellhound: black

favorite animal = eye color

snake: blue

spider: black

bear: brown

wolf: purple/pink

tiger: yellow/orange

shark: white/gray

hawk: hazel

fox: red

alligator: green

favorite hobby/ies = extras

cooking: scars

fiber arts: piercings

gaming: prosthetics

painting/drawing: tattoos

sculpting: body horror

programming: glasses

outdoor activities: freckles/beauty marks

playing an instrument: weird eyes

randomly generate a theme

romantic

gothic

emo/scene

victorian

1920s

1950s

1960s

1970s

1980s

1990s

y2k

modern day

historical

rockstar

dark academia

futuristic

urban

punk

hippie

minimalist

maximalist

out of this world

western

animalistic

[melodyanqel]

𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐃𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 ── ★ k.js (ii. silent cry)

a freshly new face enters the world of karate who is shy and spineless yet becomes everyone’s favorite fighter. even her stern and tough rival has a soft spot. and possibly more than that.

↬ pairing: kwon jae-sung x fem!oc

↬ genre/tags: romance, fluff, angst, developing relationship, friendship, team bonding, family, shy!sunshine!oc, possessive!kwon

↬ warnings: bullying, fighting, both kwon and oc are hurt

↬ word count: 3.5k words

↬ language key: english, korean

↬ note: this is a longer one and i really went in with the angst lol. i would also like to give an appreciation to my beautiful readers for supporting story because i wasn't expecting to have so many engagements. i even hit over 100 followers! tysm!!

↬ melodyanqel taglist: @pa1nfullyalive @captainquake42 @padmemi @carrotjuicepdf @sebastianstansblog @thebrightest4r @analysisiinternet @erikasurfer

𝐔𝐒𝐀

After accepting the friendship, the Miyagi-Do students and Sophia enjoy their lunchtime while discussing whatever comes to mind. 

The guys and Sam learned their new companion is in the sports medicine program. It’s surprising because they wouldn’t expect shy Sophia to have knowledge and enthusiasm about human health.

In their defense, they expected her to do crafting, be a bookworm, or do anything that didn’t relate to severe injuries. But in all honesty, that’s impressive. Sophia could be their doctor because karate involves a lot of violence. But she is a girly girl, who loves cute fashion and animated movies, especially Studio Ghibli, and sweets. 

Overall, Sophia is gentle, sensitive, loving, and without a doubt, beautiful. 

Then, the bell rings—lunchtime is over.

Both Hawk and Demetri groaned in annoyance. 

“I don’t want to go to class. Sophia is more interesting.” Even though they barely met, Hawk wants to spend more time with her—in a platonic relationship, because his heart belongs to Moon. Instantly, Demetri has an idea. “We can exchange numbers and social media, and maybe do a get-together.” He suggested.

Sam smiles with a nod. “That sounds great.” She turns to Sophia. “Whenever you’re free, we could have a fun hang-out at my place. I can also invite our other friends. Robby, Tory, and Devon.” She agrees and brings up the other Miyagi-Do students. Sam may not have the best relationship with Tory, but they get along for the most part. 

Sophia looks at the group with bright hazel eyes. “O-Of course! Let me get my phone out.” She grabs her phone with a My Sweet Piano case. One by one, Sophia adds their numbers to her contacts. The group bid each other goodbye and go to their next class. 

Sophia didn’t have classes with anyone throughout the day, but it could just be that her classes were all AP (advanced placement). That’s right, she has the brain. Sophia would challenge herself in the highest levels of education and for someone young like her is astonishing. When the day is about to end, she has to meet up with her sports med teacher because she has to know what to do before upcoming sports events. 

While walking to the class, Sophia text her best friend, Emily, about her day at West Valley High School. Emily is her childhood friend who is the opposite because she is the definition of an extrovert. She is loud, optimistic, and has no filter. Sophia did have to tell Emily about the mean girl from earlier. Her best friend reacted upset with angry emojis and words in big letters. It made Sophia laugh and uplifted her mood. 

Suddenly, she bumps into someone’s arm. Sophia quickly looks up from her phone. “I’m so sorry!” She apologizes to the person and fear creeps up. It’s the same mean girl. 

“Ugh, you again.” She crossed her arms and had a disgusted expression. “You know, even with glasses, you are still blind. Why don’t I completely make your world go dark.” The bully raises her fist to punch Sophia. The scared redhead closes her eyes and waits for the painful hit. 

However, she feels nothing. 

Sophia opens her eyes to notice a tall blonde girl in front of her, holding the bully’s fist. “She said sorry and you have to accept it.” Her husky voice states a defense. She squeezes the mean girl’s hand, tighter. The blonde girl smirks when she sees the pathetic bully whimper. “Okay, okay! I’ll accept it!” She pleads and her hand is free. 

Soon enough, the mean girl runs off elsewhere like a coward. 

The blonde turns around to face Sophia. Her fierce face softens. “Are you alright?” She asked kindly. The petite girl answers. “Yes, thank you. It’s not the first time I’ve bumped into her.” Sophia lets out a dry chuckle. The blonde sighs, “You’re welcome and it’s not your fault.” She reassured the shy one. Sophia gives a nod that she understands. 

“I’m Tory. And I assume you are new here.” The blonde introduced herself and inquired about not being familiar with Sophia’s appearance. Tory gets a shocking response. “Yes, and my name is Sophia. Are you the Tory that Sam, Miguel, Hawk, and Demetri know?” Sophia wonders if she is the girl that Sam briefly mentioned. Tory figured she had already met the Miyagi-Do students. 

The blonde fighter draws a small smile. “Yes, that is me. Now that you know who I am and my friends, we should start ours. Can I have your number and do you have Instagram?” She takes out her phone from her back pocket. Sophia puts a gleeful smile on her face. “Sure and yes I do!” She hands her device over to Tory. After doing it, they have to get back to doing their things. 

“Well, I’ll see you around.” Tory hopes to have a girls' day with Sophia. 

“You too, and enjoy the rest of the day.” The smaller girl waves goodbye and begins heading to the sports med class. Tory watches her form disappear into the distance. Despite knowing her for a few minutes, she can tell Sophia is loyal and generous. 

Moving along, Tory has to do mandatory training at the new dojo. After leaving Cobra Kai, she joined Miyagi-Do and it seemed like she found a new home. It’s a smart or bad decision, but let’s see how it goes. 

Just her luck, Sophia wasn’t late and right on time. She greets her teacher who is behind her desk on her computer. “Good afternoon, Mrs. Reed! I’m Sophia, your new student!” She has the older woman’s attention when she stops typing. Mrs. Reed becomes elated. “Hello, Sophia! So glad to finally meet you!” She stands up from her hair to give the younger a handshake. Sophia respectfully takes it. Once the greeting, Mrs. Reed offers her a seat at an empty desk. 

The class has no students because Mrs. Reed has a free period. So, she’ll have to wait for the next bell. However, it’s nice that she gets to have a little time with Sophia. 

“You’ve been in sports med since you were a freshman in Oregon?” The teacher questioned. 

Sophia responded, “Correct. I’m still surprised how I wasn’t grossed out by gnarly injuries like a fractured ankle when I first started.” She humors yet tells her honesty, making Mrs. Reed giggle. 

The older woman says, “I was like that too, and my peers would think I was weird. But, it’s okay. In the real world of sports medicine, it does get gruesome. For now, I’ll explain what you’ll be doing next week.” Mrs. Reed goes to her desk to grab a paper with the list of duties for Sophia’s first day. 

As she reads the list, she’ll do the same things as in previous years. Sophia needs to prevent, diagnose, treat, and rehabilitate injuries. 

⋆⭒˚.⋆

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐊𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐀

In the early morning, daylight unwraps the hues of the world.

Kwon is up and ready for another day at the dojang. Before he ate his breakfast, an avocado toast, he did his routine of push-ups, sit-ups, and other stretches. Kwon needs to maintain enough spirit because he does not back down easily. 

His brawny hands with gel comb through his raven hair to do his usual hairstyle. He doesn’t know when or how he got his signature look, but it suits him. Kwon then hears his phone buzzing on the bathroom counter. He reads the notifications that it’s from his mother. Kwon dresses himself in his gi, leaves the bathroom, and looks at what she sent him. 

Hello, my Jae-sung. I wish you the best of luck today! Let me know how everything goes. 

His lips etch a tender grin. Kwon replies to his mother while grabbing his backpack with his necessities: lunch, a water bottle, his wallet, and a book to read whenever he goes on break. Right before he locks up his apartment, his phone buzzes again. He takes it out of his pocket to check. It’s his dad. Kwon opens the message and reads it. 

Hi, son. I also wish you lots of luck today.

His parents are showing the same encouragement as always. Kwon replies to his father with appreciation and makes his way to the dojang—it’s more like a gorgeous forest on the outskirts of Seoul. Kwon wears his AirPods and listens to music. He makes it to the subway station. Good thing for Kwon, there aren’t a lot of people. He purchases a ticket without waiting in line and his transportation arrives quickly. 

His day is going too well, and he hopes to keep it that way. 

Once entering the train, the young man sits by himself and grabs his book from his backpack. He is reading a manga from his favorite Japanese series, Jujutsu Kaisen. Kwon loves the storyline, arcs, and the characters. His favorite is Yuta Okkotsu. He is a sorcerer with an unfortunate childhood but has his ways of fighting against his demons. Kwon shares some similarities with the character Yuta. He grew up with a tough childhood with bullying, self-guilt, and so much anger that’s suppressed. 

But the only things keeping him alive are his parents and martial arts.

After thirty minutes of sitting, Kwon arrives at the station that leads to the dojang. He gets off the subway and sees some of his teammates in the area. He frowns when he spots his archrival Yoon Do-jin’s stupid smiling face talking to others. It sucks that he has to follow them. Kwon shrugs it off and focuses on today’s training. 

Kwon places his backpack underneath a nearby gazebo, fixes his black belt, and goes down the steps that lead to a lake. As soon as he and his teammates gather around, they bow to Sensei Kim standing in the center. She explains what’s happening next. “We’ll be practicing the Viper Attack Combination. I need everyone to succeed in this lesson because I know you all have the strength and determination. Understood?” Da-eun introduced them to a new yet deadly move in karate that’s one of the most challenging ones out there. 

“Yes, sensei!” Her students obliged. 

Da-eun grins, “Very well, then.” Her cat-like eyes land on the geum baeji. “Do-jin, you’ll be in charge while I welcome a visitor.” She tells Yoon. “Yes, sensei.” He does a bow that he’ll follow her demand. Yoon does not see it but he can sense Kwon’s side-eye is burning on the side of his skull. 

He and Kwon had never gotten along since Da-eun picked him as the best student in this dojang. Yoon believes he got picked because his relatives were also students under the Kim Family dojang for generations and he isn’t short-tempered or wayward like Kwon. 

Shortly enough, Yoon instructs his teammates to get in line to practice the Viper Attack Combination. He asked one of his friends, Jung, to hold up the board. Jung followed along and helped out. Before starting, they bow and then begin their training. 

In the line, Kwon witnesses Da-eun talking to an older, Caucasian man dressed in a black and white gi. The young man perceives that he is the visitor she mentioned. Yoon goes up next to demonstrate the Viper Attack Combination. He strikes a few punches on the board and does a 180 kick, which causes the wood to split in half. Kwon snickers quietly at his rivals’ attempt. He’ll show it in a much better way. 

His teammate in front of him was about to do it, but he stopped him, and cut in line. Jung held the board flat for him. Kwon turned it sideways and gestured to Jung to hold it up higher than his height. Kwon takes a couple of steps back and lets out a powerful cry. He jumps off the ground, spins himself 360, and kicks the wood. It breaks so effortlessly. 

“That’s how you do it!” Kwon shouts at his teammates. 

Da-eun has a disappointed look on her face. She and Kreese watched the moment unravel across from them. Kreese is silently impressed by her students. Da-eun scolds her rebellious fighter. “Kwon Jae-sung! You did not follow the lesson!”

The raven scoffs and starts talking in English. “It’s a waste of time. Just go straight for head. No head, no fight.” He tries to prove a point. 

However, Da-eun wasn’t referring to his logic. “No shortcuts! And for your defiance, you will have a new assignment.” She insists he’ll not do today’s lesson. 

Kwon smirks, “Whatever it is, I can do.” He hopes it’s something extraordinary. 

Da-eun says, “I am sure you can. Go and clean my grandfather’s toilet.” She decides to give him a punishment. Kwon hears his teammates laughing at him and sees Yoon doing the same. What a little shit. 

Of course, Kwon can’t deny his sensei’s demands. He turns around to walk back. Kwon didn’t care about bumping his shoulders against a couple of his teammates as he passed them. He’ll be doing the literal dirty work. 

And just when he thought he was going to have a good day. 

⋆⭒˚.⋆

𝐔𝐒𝐀

2 pm.

School is done and the people are ready to head home. After talking with Mrs. Reed, Sophia feels great to be part of a new team. She and Emily met in sports medicine before moving. Like her, Emily wasn’t squeamish about seeing blood and broken bones. They were the weird ones yet hard-working. 

When walking out of the building, Sophia gets a text message from Sam about meeting up for a quick food stop with the guys, Robby, Devon, and Tory. She taps on the keyboard, saying she’ll be down for it. Sophia hasn’t met Robby and Devon yet so, it should be interesting. Once the message is sent, she waits outside as the students around her leave the campus. She made it through the day, which was an accomplishment. 

Sophia is minding her own business when she gets pushed to the ground, out of nowhere. She lands on her right, feeling the cement scraping the flesh of her arm and hip. Sophia hisses from the impact and looks to see who made her fall. It’s that mean girl, once again with her friends this time. 

“You think I’m done with you. I don’t accept apologies from freaks. I’ll make sure your entire year is a living hell.” She threatens Sophia and kicks her in the stomach while her friends stomp on her back and legs. 

Tears are falling from her hazel orbs. “Please, stop! It was all an accident!” Sophia begs but they won’t listen. Is this how she’ll be living the rest of her life here? Getting assaulted and being too weak to defend herself. 

It felt like an eternity when the beating just magically stops. Sophia’s ears picked up familiar voices. 

“That’s enough, bitches!”

“Don’t you even know what sorry meant!”

She hears Sam and Tory yelling at her bullies. Sophia watches the duo punch and kicks them. They landed on the cement, groaning in agony. She also notices a tall brunette girl standing over them. “Oh, you three better run before I do something that’ll break all of your faces.” She throws a warning. As usual, they got up and ran away. 

Sophia is still on the ground, but she feels someone’s gentle touch to make her sit up. In their hands, they could feel her shaking like a leaf. “You’re safe now.” It was a male voice with comfort laced through it. Sophia cranes her neck to see a boy with worrisome green eyes and light brown hair pushed back. Miguel, Hawk, and Demetri are also here. They have concerned faces. She assumes the one helping her sit is Robby. 

Then comes the girls. Sam, Tory, and Devon approach Sophia to make her stand on her feet. Sam goes to hug Sophia while Tory gingerly brushes her copper ginger locks and Devon picks up her supplies. Sophia returns Sam’s embrace and sobs. 

The pain lingers all over her body. 

⋆⭒˚.⋆

𝐒𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐇 𝐊𝐎𝐑𝐄𝐀

Humiliation is what Kwon is feeling right now. 

He eats his lunch alone, underneath a tree, while the others happily interact. Kwon wants this day to end already. Even though it was his mistake in cutting, his demonstration of the Viper Attack is what it should be. As much as he honors Da-eun, Kwon wants to fight in a different style. He is certain it’ll contribute to his team. 

“Everyone!” 

Da-eun makes them have their eyes on her. “After your break, you all will return to the dojang and our visitor has some words for us. Are we clear?” She instructed. They said, “Yes, sensei!” And went back to what they were doing. Kwon lets out a breath because he knows it’ll be pointless. He has to admit Kresse looks intimidating, but it doesn’t matter. 

Subsequently, the raven throws away his kimbap wrapper into the trash can and meets with his teammates. Lunchtime is over. Kwon truthfully didn’t want it to end because he is not ready for a lame lecture. 

The students are lined up in rows with their hands behind their backs. Da-eun claims that Kreese is one of the strongest senseis to train at this dojang. She also commands her students to give him full respect and attention when he starts talking. As always, they obeyed their sensei.

Kreese strides as he speaks, “I trained him to be the best of the best. He dominated every opponent he ever faced. He was destined to become a world champion. And then, one day,” he pauses before continuing, “it all changed. He lost to an insignificant, scrawny little runt with maybe six weeks of training. And why did he lose? Because this opponent had more heart. So, class, how do we defeat an opponent who has more heart?”

He asked everyone and two students, including Yoon, answered. The first guys got it wrong while Yoon said, “Have heart yourself, sensei.” 

Kreese tugged a grin because his response sounded convincing. However, Kwon spoke out of the blue, “Or kill their heart with strong kick to ribs.” He thinks this is all pointless. Why do you need a heart to win in a fight? It’s not playful or friendly in the world of martial arts. 

Da-eun scolds Kwon like typical. “You do not speak!”

But Kreese raises two fingers to silence the female mentor. He steps forward to the rebellious man’s space. “Kwon, is it?” Kreese asked and the younger nodded with no care in his dark eyes. “It seems you don’t take me seriously.” Kreese had dealt with people not following his instructions, which aggravated him. He leans close to Kwon’s left ear. “Perhaps, I need to show you just how serious I am.” He pulls away and sees a switch in Kwon’s gaze. 

A hint of terror. 

What Kreese intended is another punishment, except it’s for everyone. 

The Cobra Kai sensei makes them carry heavy bags and trudge on the steps in circles. For nearly an hour, the students are starting to get exhausted and their arms are sore. Kreese notices them slowing down. 

He smirks, “Are your lungs bursting yet?” The older man asked in a sneering voice. 

In unison, “Yes, sensei!” 

Kreese chuckles under his breath. “Good. You can thank Mr. Kwon for that.” He remarks at the raven, who glances with annoyance. Da-eun is next to Kreese with her arms crossed. “I do not wish to question your methods, but is it really worth wasting an entire day of training just to punish Kwon?” She is unsure about Kreese’s ways of teaching her students. The female sensei does think Kwon’s actions are nuisances but she wouldn’t let a consequence go on for the rest of the training. 

“This is not a punishment. It is a lesson. And they all will learn.” Kreese makes a rebuttal, trying to prove to Da-eun that he’ll make it work for everyone. 

While they are deep in their talk, Yoon sees the two mentors not focusing on them. He takes the opportunity to confront Kwon. He shifts to face the troublemaker. “We’re tired of your disrespect.” He gives him a frown. Kwon rolled his eyes. “You want my respect? Earn it.” He swears to god if Yoon just wants to mess with him, he will make a comeback. 

Yoon sighs, “We are here to train. I will teach you to keep your mouth shut.” He can throw a fist to Kwon’s face without remorse. He then peeks over his rival’s shoulder to see Jung putting down his bags. A light bulb lights up. 

Kwon laughs scornfully at Yoon’s threat. “I have nothing to learn from you.” He drags his words just to irritate the geum baeji. Yoon raises his brows and goes closer to him. “Oh. Have it your way.” He states lowly and knocks Kwon to the ground by whacking him with his giant bags. 

The disobedient student groans when his body hits the stone steps. 

Both Kreese and Da-eun heard the loud thud and turned their attention back to the class. Kreese tells everyone, “That’s enough for today. Come back tomorrow at sunrise.” He decides to end class because it’s going to take more time than he expected to run this dojang. 

Kwon put a hand behind his head to check if he was bleeding. Grateful that he wasn’t hurt, but displeased that he was finishing his day rough. Kwon slams his fist on the ground. 

His anger just keeps fuming inside him and he knows he can’t let it out. 

back to masterlist

[kuroosdarling]

‎♡‧₊˚ ꒰ FEATURING ꒱ : virgin!kenma (&kuroo)

‎♡‧₊˚ ꒰ CONTENTS ꒱ : MDNI !! threesome (?), cuckholding, kenma bein a lil fucked out, kuroo on a power trip hehe yknow the vibes

check out the others here !

everything was so wet, so warm — so tight. he doesn’t think he’s ever felt something as good as this, no. he knows he’s never felt something as good as this.

hot pleasure swarms around in his head and the only thing he can feel is your cunt squeezing around his cock as if it was desperately begging for his cum already. but he tried his hardest to restrain from filling you up too soon.

“that’s it, you feel that kenma? feel how good her little pussy is?” kuroo coos from behind you. kenma’s eye flutter open just so he can glare at the older man who also happens to be your boyfriend. 

but he just ends up ignoring him. so instead, he looks up at you, perched up on his cock like a goddess. your fingernails dig into his chest and he lets out a soft groan. between you and kuroo, he didn’t know who was more dastardly. all he knew was he was thankful for kuroo suggesting he lost his virginity to you.

all kenma could do was hold onto your hips as you slowly start to rock against him. his grip was so tight, he almost felt bad. but judging by the way you started to move faster, he figured you didn’t really mind it.

“that’s it, nice and slow.” kuroo purred, circling around the two of you like a hawk about to strike. his eyes were glued to where you and kenma were currently connected, absolutely mesmerized by the way your drooling cunt was swallowing up kenma’s cock. “doesn’t she feel heavenly, kenma?”

kenma’s attention briefly cut over to kuroo, watching him as his hazel eyes were set on you, filled with so much adoration it only pushed kenma closer to the edge that he didn’t want to reach yet. 

but that had nothing on the way you looked right now. an absolute vision as you started to play with your breasts, teasing your nipples between your fingers as you mewled out his name. he doesn’t think he’s ever heard a prettier sound than his name tumbling from your lips.

“ken-“ you gasp out when he finds your clit. or rather, when kuroo takes his hand and guides him to your neglected nub. kuroo whispers in his ear, telling him to start moving his fingers around in a small circle over the bundle of nerves. reluctantly, kenma listened and was instantly rewarded with your pretty moans getting louder.

“keep rubbing her there and she’ll be putty in your hands.” kuroo teases, reaching out to stroke your arm, watching how your tits bounce with each roll of your hips. “she’s even more insatiable after she cums, so if you need me to take over, i can manage.”

“like hell you will.” kenma hisses out, possessively clawing his fingers into your hips. the thought of kuroo fucking you right after kenma fills you with his cum sent him into a frenzy. there was a part of him that didn’t even want kuroo to look at you right now, wanting this memorable moment entirely to himself. but he’d be lying if he said the whole situation wasn’t hot — that fucking his best friends girlfriend in front of him wasn’t exactly what he had been dreaming of for weeks, if not months.

but kenma can’t string together another thought, completely lost in the way your velvety walls tighten around him, almost sweetly coaxing him for his release. and he wanted to give in — so, so badly. but kuroo hadn’t let him cum yet even though he could feel the overwhelming sensation shooting down his spine, ready to fill you up with everything he had in him. 

“come on, kenma, talk to me.” kuroo mockingly whines out the words as he takes his place behind you. he watches how you’re seated up on kenmas cock, slowly rocking your hips — much too slow for his liking but he doesn’t do anything to fix it. yet. kuroo kisses underneath your ear, looking down at kenma who can’t help but make eye contact again. 

“shut up kuro.” he spits out, bringing his lithe fingers to your sensitive nipples— just like how you showed him earlier. you moan at the contact, tossing your head back onto kuroo’s shoulder. kuroo laughs; a vicious sound. its harsh tone tickles your ear and crawls down your spine as your hips stutter.

“i think she likes hearing your voice.” kuroo purrs, kissing down your neck before gripping your hips, just below where kenma’s hands previously were. he starts moving you a bit faster, causing you and the man under you to moan in sync. “aw, you guys are just so cute.”

“tetsu-“ you gasp out, splaying your hands back onto kenma’s chest as kuroo sets the pace for you guys. you couldn’t help but to fall right into your boyfriend's hands, but kenma had other plans.

taken over by a deep need to fuck you harder or maybe just driven by the irritation that he got merely from kuroo being kuroo; kenma starts ruthlessly thrusting upward into you, tossing his head back to loudly moan your name out into the room. 

all you could do was keep your head locked onto kuroo’s shoulder, letting kenma set the pace and soaking in all the sweet sounds he let out. kuroo tried to combat it, whispering sweet praises in your ear and wrapping his arms around your waist as his best friend continued to drive into your cunt.

deep down, kenma knew that kuroo had to give the okay for both of you to cum, but it was quickly hurtling towards the end. by the pitch of your cries, kuroo knew it too. and he was eager to have his turn with you.

“you're making him feel so good baby, i can tell.” he nudged his head against yours, making sure he had a clear view of kenma, smirking down at the younger man. “go ahead and fill her up kenma, i know you’ve been desperate to.”

but once kuroo gave the okay, something else overcame kenma when he realized he wouldn’t be satisfied until you came first, trying to milk his cock for everything he’s worth.

maybe he wanted to see how insatiable you really got, or maybe he just wanted to piss kuroo off while he had another round with you. either way, he was just getting started and he didn’t care how much he wanted to cum; he knew he needed to have you begging him for more first.

[not-neverland06]

How About a Nuke?

Part VI / Part VII / Part VIII

Series Masterlist

Cooper Howard x fem!reader, The ghoul x fem!reader A/N: @weakling-grace did some fanart for the series that I absolutely adore! And I want you all to look at it. It’s on her blog, or reposted on mine under the tag How about a nuke? Summary: The wound’s infected. It shouldn’t be, but here you are anyway, barely holding on to life. You make it as far as you can and then it’s up to him to decide whether you get to live or die.

“Have I told you yet that you are the most gorgeous woman in this room?” You couldn’t stop the smile from spreading on your face even if you tried. 

“Only about a dozen times.” His hand reaches for yours across the table and you take it eagerly, linking your fingers together and enjoying the way his hazel eyes linger on yours. You could get lost in them, as cliche as it sounds. You and about every other woman in the world fell in love when you first saw those smiling eyes on the silver screen. 

“I’ll just have to tell you a dozen more.”

God, you would swoon if you could. But, unfortunately, you are in the middle of a very nice restaurant and you’re sure they wouldn’t enjoy your fainting spell. It’s not like you could help it, he was so effortlessly charming, everything he said with that rasping accent of his sounded like music to you. 

Your smile slipped slightly when you caught two women staring at you both. They weren’t even trying to hide it, pointing and whispering behind their hands. You clenched your jaw, trying your best not to let the anger show on your face. But he caught it anyway. 

Cooper dropped your hand and tucked his back in his lap. He sighed and glanced over his shoulder, they caught his eye and gasped, stopping their cruel whispers. You opened your mouth to try and make him feel better but he interrupted you, “Hey-”

“I told you this was gonna happen sweetheart.” You hated how sad he sounded, how resigned he was to his new place in life. It was no secret that most of your fellow actors despised him now just because he did a few ad campaigns for Vault-Tec. But that didn’t mean the rest of the world did. There were still plenty of people who adored Cooper and asked for his autograph. 

Granted, those ladies clearly weren’t fans, but you didn’t care. You didn’t care if you got spotted together in public and rumors started up again. You didn’t care what that meant about future roles. “I want to be with you, Coop, but I can’t keep having this same conversation over and over again.” You sighed and finally drew your hand back to yourself, he tracked the movement like a hawk. 

“If this is too much,” you forced yourself to swallow past the lump in your throat and put on a stilted smile. “If being with me in the public eye is too much then maybe we should-”

“Enough,” he reached back over and forced his hand into yours. “I’m sorry, I’m just worried about you.” He stopped you before you could interrupt him, giving you a knowing smile. “I know that you don’t care what being around me does to your career, but I do. There’s no reason for the both of us to be washed up celebrities.”

“Hey, you’re not washed up, plenty of people still want to see you on the silver screen.”

He smiled but it didn’t reach his eyes. He squeezed your hand once before letting go and picking up his fork, “Let’s just enjoy our meal, sweetheart.”

“Pick up the pace! I’m not gonna wait for you forever, sweetheart.”

You glared at him and leaned on a tree for support. You’re not sure what’s going on. You feel hot under your skin but also like you’re freezing, you’d thrown up twice during night watch and you’re about five seconds away from keeling over. 

Your sweaty palm slips against the bark and you go sliding over. You hear his boots stomping through the grass before they stop in front of you. Rough hands steady your shoulders and shove you upright again. His eyes rove across your face, the muscles above his eyes turning down in concern. 

“Shit, you look like,” he trailed off, “well, to be perfectly honest you look like shit.”

You laughed but it came out strangled and he flinched back in disgust when you started coughing. “Good to know you’re still a gentleman, Cooper.” 

He sighed and led you over to a rotted log. You threw yourself down on it, wincing as it jarred your sensitive stomach. The gash was aching a lot more than it should. 

When you’d been shot, you could barely even feel it by this point. Now the wound was burning, itching so bad you just wanted to rip the stitches out with your bare hands. Your head rolls back and you clench your eyes shut as another wave of nausea goes through you. You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, rattling like a hummingbird in a cage. 

He kneels in front of you and reaches for your shirt. You lean back on your hands to give him better access. “Stimpak should have worked by now,” he mutters. He pulls your shirt higher up on your abdomen and hisses through his teeth. 

“What is it?” Your tongue is glued to the roof of your mouth and the words come out garbled. 

“Shit!” He yanks your shirt down and reaches for your bag, digging through it until he finds another one of the Stimpaks you’d taken. 

You’d be more panicked if your head wasn’t floating right now. “What is it?” He doesn’t answer you, he hovers the injector over his mouth and lets the medicine shoot in. You wince when he immediately turns to spit it into the grass. 

He wipes the back of his mouth and chuckles. “Should’ve fucking known,” he mutters. He goes through the rest of the supplies you’d grabbed and starts chucking them further into the forest. 

You’re getting pissed off now. Pissed off and worried, you just needed him to talk to you, tell you what’s going on. “Cooper!” You snap, hand clutched over the burning wound on your stomach. He sighs and looks up at you. “Tell me what’s happening.”

“Fakes,” he says, mouth set in a firm line and eyes hard against your worried gaze. “See, darlin’, some people like the men we met last night hand out fake supplies.” If you weren’t so worried you’d be mad about how condescending he sounds. 

“They take empty injectors and fill ‘em with chems to keep people sick and coming back to them. It’s a steady income,” he says, like it’s a respectable career. “Your wound is infected, probably only worsened by whatever chem they put in the Stimpak I stuck you with.”

Your eyes are wide with horror. You can’t decide what’s worse, that you’ve essentially been poisoned and are probably experiencing sepsis right now. Or that people were capable of being so cruel and profited off of it. He pulls your canteen out of your bag and unscrews the cap. He holds the water up to your nose, “Sniff.” You do and he waves his hand, prompting you to tell him what exactly you smelled. 

“Smells like metal,” you shrug, not sure what that means. 

“Infected and you’ve got rad poisoning.” At your confused glance he continues, “Water’s not purified either, sweetheart. Whatever you got is about to get a hundred times worse.” When he turns his back to put the water back in your bag you finally risk a glance down at your stomach. 

You wished you hadn’t because you’re immediately bending over to throw up what was left of your rations. The skin has swelled over the stitches, practically swallowing the black thread. The place the knife went in is red and puckered, pus forming at the corners. The sides of your stomach have an odd green tint that you’re trying not to think about too hard, most likely a side effect of whatever chem you’d been dosed with. 

He presses the canteen into your hand and you shake your head from where it is between your knees. “Can’t, radiation.”

He laughs, the sound unkind, “It’s a bit late for that, honey.” You snatch the water out of his hand and gulp down as much as you can stomach. It’s not much, the taste of the water is too metallic and bitter for you. “The place we’re going, they’ve got medicine. We get you there and I’m sure I can work something out with them.”

You know what that really means. He’ll get paid for his bounty and then he’ll get what he wants, whether they offer it freely or not. “If I get there,” you mutter, still holding back the rest of your breakfast. 

“Enough,” he snaps. His hand wraps around your elbow and he yanks you to your feet. “We need to get a move on, power through.” If you had the strength, you’d slap him again. 

“Here you go,” he placed a bowl down on the coffee table, steam still wisping over the edge. He sat down beside you on your couch and brushed some hair away from your face and you leaned into the warmth of his palm. You were freezing but he seemed to think you were burning up. 

“Did you make me soup?” Your voice is groggy with sleep. He helps you into a sitting position and hands you the bowl. 

“No,” he laughs a little and leans back against the cushions, arm spreading out behind you and pulling you into him. “But I warmed it up for you.”

“Cooper,” you whisper. 

“Get a move on!” He shouts from a couple yards ahead. “You either move your ass or I’ll leave you here, because I’m sure as shit not carrying you.”

Oh shit. 

Hallucinating is never a good sign. You would swear on everything above that you were just on your couch with Cooper. You could still feel the warmth of the bowl in your hands, the old plush fabric of your couch on your cheeks. 

You swallowed down bile and did your best to catch up to him. You blinked a few times, trying to get rid of the fog over your eyes, but it didn’t help much. It took you a minute to realize it was from the sweat dripping down your brow and burning against your retinas that was causing the problem. 

You glanced around, surprised to find yourself surrounded by sand. Weren’t you just in the forest? You lifted a shaking hand to try and get rid of the glare of the sun. He was walking closer to you now, keeping a keener eye on you. You trip over your own feet for the inth time and try to keep pushing yourself. 

“Any chance we could dim those?” You squint and point up to the lights hanging above the set and one of the PA’s runs off to fulfill your request. You shake your boots out, tired of all the sand that’s been getting in them. You understand you’re meant to be chasing an outlaw through the “Wild West” but this is getting ridiculous. 

You’ve done about a hundred retakes of this scene, you’re not sure when the director is going to admit defeat but you hope it’s soon. You don’t know why the studio is even bothering to do cowboy stuff anymore. Everyone knows since Coop was forced out of the industry no one’s wanted to see these types of movies. 

The actor you’re working with this time is a dick. He’s commanding and rude, he’s got no sense of boundaries either. Or a nose. 

What the fuck?

He stands over top of you and you finally realize that you’ve collapsed into the sand. You let your head fall back and rub your forehead. One second you’re on a set and the next you’re in the Wastelands at the end of the world. You’re struggling to remember which version of reality is real and which isn’t. 

“I mean it,” he threatens, “I ain’t carrying you.” Your hand flops uselessly to your side, muscles fatigued and the burning in your gut sucking the energy out of you. The only part of yourself you’re physically aware of is the stab, you can’t feel anything else. You can’t twitch your toes or wiggle your fingers, everything is off kilter. “Alright then,” he leans down and yanks your arm over his shoulder. 

Before you’re processing what’s happening the world is being tilted on its axis and you’re being hauled to your feet. You don’t remember much about traveling through the sands. Everything is one long blur of red and orange. When the air in front of you starts to get wavy your eyes lose focus and you black out.

She nearly made it. They’re only about an hour away from this compound he’s been trying to get her to. He sighs, looking down at her prone form in the sand. There’s sweat beading along her forehead, her lips are cracked and split and her face has an unusual tint to it that can’t mean anything healthy. 

He squats down next to her and debates how he wants to go about this. The wound on her stomach has only gotten worse since they started walking, it’s just looking angrier and angrier. With how infected it is, it’s possible that even a stimpak might not help her now. 

He could leave her here, get the bounty, and go on his merry way. He could shoot her, put her out of her misery and leave. Or he could throw her over his shoulder and walk the last hour to the compound, hoping that whatever they have there will help. No matter what choice he makes, it’s her life in his hands. 

His hand drifts forward, brushing the hair off her cheek and lingering on the soft skin there. He sighs before scooping her up and tossing her over his shoulder, she whines, her wound rubbing against his shoulder and probably causing her a heap of pain. It didn’t matter how much it hurt, though, as long as she was feeling something that was a good sign. 

“Nearly there, sweetheart,”; he muttered. He tuned into her shallow breathing, the long pauses before her next breath and let that be what keeps him going. She better not fucking die on him. He grunts, shifting her higher up on his shoulder and wrapping an arm around her legs. 

He could feel how hot she was through each layer of their clothing. This was more than just the sun, she seemed like she was about to combust. “Cooper,” she whimpers. He frowns, she’s been muttering to herself since they left the forest. Talking about things that weren’t possible. 

He’s seen it before, with infection or rad poisoning, the hallucinations start pretty early. Only problem is, he’s never met anyone who lasted as long as her. She should have been dead hours ago. He has no idea what’s keeping her going, but she better fucking hold onto it. 

You laughed, your dress swirling around your legs like a blooming red flower as he spun you through the room. His hand wrapped around your waist and he pulled you back into his chest. You smiled at him and he reached up to brush the hair out of your face. 

Sinatra’s smooth voice cracked and then began to stutter. You laughed again but Cooper just rolled his eyes and walked over to fix the record. You smoothed out your dress and sat down on his couch, reaching for his glass of whiskey on the table. 

You took a sip, hoping for some liquid courage, and regretted it. You’d momentarily forgotten your distaste for alcohol. You tried to fight the tickle in your throat but failed, you probably ruined your lipstick with how hard you started to cough. 

He walked over to you and chuckled, taking his glass from your hands and stealing a swig. “Can’t handle your liquor, honey?”

“I can,” you wiped your mouth and gave him a playful glare. “That just tastes absolutely disgusting.” He smiled and took a seat beside you, arm draped behind you. He crossed a leg over his knee and titled himself to face you. You found yourself taking a deep breath, trying to prepare yourself for the question you were going to ask.

“Everything alright?”

You glanced down at your dress and fiddled with the hem of it. “I know the divorce was finalized a few days ago,” Cooper looked away from you, his face hardening, and reached forward to place his glass back on the table. Your heart leapt into your throat at the way he slammed it down. Maybe this was a mistake. 

You know when Barb came over to pick up Janey yesterday they’d gotten into a fight. You didn’t know what exactly it was they fought about, you’re pretty sure it had to do with you. But it didn’t truly matter. She always found a way to rile him up. You’d been hoping that coming by tonight might make him feel a little better,  but he still seemed to have a residual tenseness to him. 

Bringing the divorce up after one of their fights isn’t smart. But you need to talk about this and he’s been avoiding the conversation for a while now. 

He ran a hand down his face and sighed, “What about it?” 

“I was just wondering what that means for us?”

He scoffed and glanced over at you. The look he’s giving you, you’re certain the fight was about you now. He’s never looked this angry with you, “For us?” You nodded and he shook his head, standing up and heading towards his room. “It doesn’t mean anything.” Your heart stuttered in your chest, eyes burning as he slammed the door to his room without another word. You let your head fall into your hands and took a few deep breaths. You knew you shouldn’t have asked that. 

“That was a mistake,” you muttered. 

“The hell are you telling yourself back there?” Your eyes peeled open and you frowned, you seemed to be looking at something that looked a hell of a lot like Cooper’s backside. You tilted your head to the side to find the world upside down and something stabbing repeatedly in your stomach. 

You clawed your way up Cooper’s jacket, shakily holding yourself up so you could stare down at him. “Settle,” he warns, like you’re a damn horse. 

“Put me down,” you mutter, weakly kicking out your feet and trying to get off of him. He just shakes his head and shoves you back down. You let him, not having much fight left in you anyway. 

“Just,” he pauses, “keep dreamin’,” the words seem to pain him and you wonder why. You don’t linger on it long, letting your head hang against his back before the world is going dark again. 

She keeps muttering Cooper in her sleep. He knows what she’s thinking about. Their old times together, when everything was just dandy and the world was as sweet as peaches. Well, he wasn’t some saint back then neither. He had his own problems, vices, same as any man. 

Only difference between then and now is that he doesn’t have to hide who he is. Doesn’t have to worry about the public’s opinion or how his job will be affected if he speaks his mind. Cooper’s no better than the Ghoul. 

He sighs, barely even believing himself. She whimpers in her sleep, the noise strangled and pained. He squeezes her leg, barely even noticing the action, in an attempt to bring some minute form of comfort. She never should have dived in front of that blade, it was stupid of her. 

Course, she couldn’t have known that he would have healed, it’s not like he ever told her that. But she shouldn’t have risked it anyway, he wasn’t worth her dying for.

He can see a large building about a mile ahead as he crests the ridge of the dune he’s walking on. The compound, nearly there. “Hold on,” he’s not sure who he’s talking to but it doesn’t matter. She’s made it this far, she’ll make it a few more minutes.

“Stop right there!” Only one armed guard comes out from behind the gate of the compound. He scoffs, fucking amateurs. He drops her to the ground at his feet with as much care as he can, which isn’t a lot. Slowly, he raises his hands as the guard approaches, the tip of his rifle pressing into the hardened skin of his chest. “State your business.”

Well, someone liked making themself feel important, he was gonna have a field day beating this boy black and blue. For now, he simply smiled at him, unbothered by the gun. “I’ve got a bounty to deliver.”

“Alright, hand it over.” He reached into his pockets and the boy’s trigger finger twitched dangerously. He pulled out the only thing they’d wanted from the body, dog tags, and held them out for the boy to take. He darted forward, trying to snatch them but he yanked them out of the guard’s grip. 

He lunged, wrapping a hand around the barrel of the rifle and yanking it out of the kid’s hands. He tucked the tags back in his pocket and pointed the barrel into the boy’s chest. His face blanched and he held up his shaky hands. “Not so big now, are you?” He kept the gun trained on him and leaned down to scoop her back up. 

She was just cognizant enough to wrap an arm around his shoulder, keeping herself steady. “My friend here needs help. So help me boy, I swear if you fight me, I’ll slaughter everyone in that fucking place and just take what I want.”

He poked the gun into the boy’s chest and he jumped away from him with a frightened little whimper. With a grin, he bullied him into unlocking the gate and leading the both of them inside. 

“Please-”

“Shut the fuck up and get me inside.” It didn’t take long, the kid seemed to be the only guard they had patrolling right now. He led the pair inside the compound and then shoved them inside a room. 

“Here, you can clean her up here.” Before he could say anything the boy was running down the hall and out of sight. He figured they didn’t have long before the rest of the compound was alerted to what was going on. 

He knew enough about the place to know they had a water purifier set up in the back and some odd little ditty they’d created to use water to generate power. Having a radiated ocean behind them was a lot more convenient than Cooper ever would have thought. 

“Alright,” he propped her up on the bed and threw the boy’s rifle to the side. “Wake up, darling,” her eyelashes fluttered but she didn’t move. He used his teeth to pull off one of his gloves and pressed a hand to her clammy head. Still burning up. He cracked his hand across her cheek, chuckling at the way her eyes flew open. 

“Come on,” he hoisted her up and shoved her towards the bathroom in the room. There were holes in the wall, the faucet was really a metal can with holes poked in it, but it was running water. Who was he to complain? He propped her up against the sink and cranked the odd lever in the wall. There was a loud rattling sound before water came pouring out of the rusted can. “Clean yourself up,” he muttered, closing the door behind him.

Barely a minute later he heard a loud crash and the sound of porcelain cracking. He ran back into the bathroom and found her half collapsed against the shower wall. What was left of the decrepit sink was broken on the ground, only the faucet sticking out of the wall. He sighed and looked over at her. 

“I fell,” she muttered, a million little cuts bleeding on her arms. 

He sighed and tugged his hat and gloves off, tossing them onto the bed outside. He came back in, pulling her away from the shower and straightening her up. She clung onto him, broken nails digging dully into his scarred arms. “Come on, sweetheart,” he tugged her shirt up, her arms slipping limply out of it. 

Her wound was practically festered by now, turning a color that he knew meant she didn’t have much time to waste. He undid the button of her pants and knelt down, hands dragging down her legs and pulling her pants with them. She stepped out, hands braced on his shoulders and tripped slightly. He grabbed her thighs, steadying her and stood back up. He wrapped an arm around her waist, stopping her from falling and leading her into the shower. 

She sighed as the tepid water hit her back and he grimaced at the brown water pouring off of her. Maybe he should have let her clean up in that lake. He didn’t do much to help her as she cleaned herself up, mainly just stood there and let her hold onto him so she didn’t hurt herself further. 

He cupped the back of her neck and helped her tilt her head back to clean out the rest of her hair. It was odd, being this close to her. Less because of how stark naked she was, and more because of just how vulnerable she was being. Like a deer rolling over and presenting its neck to a wolf. He could do anything to her, and she just let him hold her like this. 

She leaned forward, clearly tired after moving around so much. Her head fell into his chest and she wrapped her arms around him tighter. She sighed, “I love you, Cooper.”

He flinched, knowing this was just a part of her delirium. Having running water for once was probably just confusing her more, making her think she was right back home. He leaned forward, lips pressed against her forehead and brushing some hair back. “No you don’t, darling.”

There was a knock on the door and he was quick to draw his gun. The door opened and a middle aged woman flanked by two guards stood smiling at him. She took in the gun in his hand but seemed unbothered by it or the threat he posed. “I hear you two need some help.”

“Mhm,” he glanced at the guards behind her but they didn’t seem particularly interested in reaching for their weapons. The woman took her in from where she lay on the bed, panting and sounding like she was struggling to get her breaths in. “I have a bounty to turn in, figured part of my payment could be you giving us a Stimpak. Then, we’ll be out of your hair.”

She laughed and took a step further into the room. He stood up now, gun pointed towards her slightly. She ignored him and took a peek at the festering wound. “She’ll need a lot more than a Stimpak. We can clean her up, don’t worry.” He didn’t get a chance to argue before the guards were coming in. He stepped out of the way as they grabbed you by the arms and legs, hauling you out of the room. 

He made to follow them but the woman placed a hand on his chest. “Sylvie, I run the compound. The bounty?”

He sighed and fished the dog tags out of his pocket, passing them to her. He glanced out the door, trying to track the path they took you down. “She’ll be fine, trust me.”

He laughed and glanced over at her, “No offense, ma’am,” he says the title with a lack of respect that makes her brows furrow in irritation, “but if there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s not to trust anyone. No matter how pretty their promises are.”

She gave him a long look before smiling and motioning back towards the hall. “Follow me and we’ll go find her.”

They had a decent set up here. Not as nice as the vaults, clearly, but pretty good for surface dwellers. A decent supply of meds and rations, running water. Everything in the building might be run down or covered in mildew, with cracks in the wall, but it was better than the hovels he’d camped out in. 

They’ve got her set up on cot, a bag of Radaway hooked up to her arm and her hair braided away from her face. They had to cut out the stitches he’d sewed and open the wound back up to flush it out. She’d been patched back up and while the skin still looked irritated it seemed to be doing a lot better than before. 

He’d been keeping a close eye on her breathing and she’d finally stopped wheezing on every inhale. He figured another hour here and they could get the fuck out. These people were starting to bother him. Every half hour or so they would come in to check on her, the women would spray some water on her face and mutter something before running back out. 

He seemed to scare them, enjoying the way they would avoid meeting his eyes. But it wasn’t enough to keep them away from her. Their insistence should’ve had alarm bells going off in his head, but he was already preoccupied worrying about her. He didn’t even notice when Slyvie came to stand beside him. 

“She’ll be alright,” she tried to place a hand on his shoulder but the look he shot her had her stopping short. She cleared her throat uncomfortably and tucked her hands back behind her back. He gave her another long look before going back to staring at the girl on the bed. 

“We have a place for her here, if you’re interested.”

He scoffed, “Room for us, huh?” He let himself picture it for a moment. He wouldn’t fucking stay, of course, he couldn’t. There’s no way, after two hundred years of wandering, that he could be locked down to one decaying old building. Showers or no. But he could always come by to visit her, stay a few nights and then leave again. 

That’s assuming she’d even want him to visit. Didn’t matter, he’d come anyway. But, he couldn’t do that anymore. Couldn’t live that life even if it would be temporary. It just wasn’t in him. He stayed stagnant for too long and two hundred years of bloodshed and loss would drive him insane. 

Sylvie shook her head and frowned. “I’m sorry, I should have been more clear. We have room for her, you have to understand, without a steady supply of Radaway we can’t risk having a ghoul here.” She moved towards her and brushed some hair out of her face, “Think about it.” She walked out and he stared blankly at the cot. 

She shifted on the bed, face pained and mumbling something under her breath. Finally, her eyes fluttered open and she frowned. “Coop? What’s,” she trailed off, struggling to sit up and glancing around the room they were in. “What’s going on?”

“Relax, we’re at the compound.”

She rubbed her forehead and glared at him, “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

He swatted her leg and she recoiled, “No, smartass. Just relax, we’ll be out of here soon.” She nodded and leaned back against the pillows they’d given her. It was odd, finally seeing her clean again. He could see clearly just how tired she looked. It was in her eyes, mainly, a weariness towards the world that left her exhausted. 

He’s surprised she’s even made it this far without giving up. She’d been dealt some shit luck, but he supposed it was better she be exposed to how cruel the world was as quickly as possible. She groaned and her head flopped forward. 

“What’s wrong with you now?” 

“God,” she muttered, turning her face away from him and shaking her head. He huffed and sat up straight, glaring at the side of her face. 

“Talk,” he demanded, not in the mood for games. 

“I meant it,” she sounded pained, like the words had to be forced out. “I mean, I hate that I meant it, but I did.”

He rolled his eyes, “Meant what? You’re gonna have to be a little clearer than that, sweetheart.”

“What I said in the shower. I meant it. I haven’t stopped loving you, despite how much I want to. I don’t want to want you anymore, I don’t want that connection to the past to constantly be shoved down my throat.” She sighed and tugged at the braid they’d given her. “You’re cruel and mean and, fuck’s sake, you’ve shot me twice. But you’re also the only thing I’ve got left, and despite how much I want to, because trust me I do, I can’t let you go.”

He sighed and turned away from her. She was still tired, still a bit woozy from the fever. He could see the sweat on her forehead again and knew that whatever this was, was just drug induced. He couldn’t handle it. He couldn’t handle her wanting him like this again. 

Being around her already made him vulnerable enough. Whatever twisted connection he held to her now, would be nothing compared to letting her love him again. Two hundred years on his own and she thought she could just come barreling back into his life and everything would be lovely again?

No, that’s not how this world worked. Not anymore. 

He stood up and threw his bag over his shoulder. “Get back to sleep, we’ll leave soon.”

She sighed and sank back against the pillows, shivering as she did so. “You’ll be here?”

“Of course I will, sweetheart.” She nodded, eyes already drifting shut, and turned away from him. He let himself admire her, taking in her relaxed features and soft expression. She reminded him so much of before. Before the world went to shit and before he turned into what he is now. 

He could feel parts of him, the ones he’d buried a long time ago, come up around her. Twisted as they were, how he felt about her before still lingered somewhere within him. But he couldn’t afford the risk that they presented if he did let her back in. He wasn’t even sure she could fully handle him if he did. 

She’d nearly died about five times, most of them because of him, and she’d been up here for such a short time. She’d be better off without him. He walked towards the door, the spurs of his boots clicking against the tile of the floor. He found Sylvie lurking a few halls down and whistled, getting her attention. 

Sylvie turned to him with an expectant smile. “You got room?”

She nodded with an eager smile, “We do. And you’d be compensated, of course.” Before he could question what exactly she was paying him for she snapped her fingers and some guards approached. They handed him a bag that he quickly rifled through. Not only was there enough Radaway to last him at least a month, there was purified water and rations that would keep him going until the next bounty. 

She’ll be better off here. 

He tucked the bag away and smiled at Sylvie, “Pleasure doing business with you, ma’am.”

She gave him a lecherous grin, “You as well,” she nodded and the guards escorted him to the gate. He didn’t let himself look back, knowing he’d just want to go get her. At least now he didn’t have to constantly worry about saving her ass. 

He was better off on his own. Always had been, always would be. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the game/show Fallout, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[withlove-xixi]

It's ok if not [he's on there a lot already & I'm so excited], but may I suggest Chilchuck for either spanking or oral? Mainly because I can def see him into that power dynamic with spanking and I take the succubus scene as a sign he might like the slop-top, LOL.

P.S Remember to take care of yourself and not to burn out! :)

— MINDLESS SELF-INDULGENCE: chilchuck x reader

KINKTOBER DAY TWENTY-NINE: ORAL SEX ᥫ cw: nsfw, oral sex (chilchuck receiving), sub!chilchuck if you squint ᥫ wc: 1167 ★ sloppy toppy gawk gawk 5000 on the silly old guy .... thank you so much for the suggestion anonon !!! i agree ... chilchuck would love getting head ... hawk tuah, as the kids these days say! cross posted on ao3 — MINORS DNI! —

— CHILCHUCK WAS OLD.

[♡]: there wasn’t much skirting around it, he was old. it was just fact. it wasn’t really a fact that bothered him as well, and even if it did there wasn’t much he could do about it anyway. he’s come to accept that he was old, old enough that all his daughters are grown, old enough that he gets a bit cranky if he doesn’t nap enough, old enough that he tries not to indulge in the fantasies of his youth.

EVERY MAN HAS THEIR VICES, HAS THEIR FANTASIES. But being twenty-nine was old for a half-foot, in tallman terms, he’d be the equivalent of maybe in his late forties. Chilchuck has long abandoned those thoughts in his youth, the various kinks and fantasies that would’ve had him rock hard the second the thought entered his mind. He wasn’t going to deny he was a bit dirty minded when he was younger, head filled with all sorts of things he wished he could do. Now, he’s grown, sex has become less of this addictive fuel and more of a scarcity. Given how busy he gets with work and his newfound standoffish nature towards relationships (all that and the divorce), Chilchuck hasn’t really gotten much action lately.

“Hm? You worked up just from kissing, pretty boy?”

Well, maybe not lately.

Because recently he’s met you, some casual fling he’s honestly quite shocked he’s developed, even more shocked he’s able to maintain. It sounded like some cheesy romance cliche when he says it’s simply because you’re not like any other person he’s met, but it’s true. And on top of that, he’s never really had a relationship like this, he never really saw himself as the type to.

Yet here he was, his body rigid as he shakily and gingerly brushes stray locks of hair away from your face, mostly to get a better view of the way you kiss the tip of his cock.

A shudder runs down his spine as he unexpectedly bucks his hips forward, pressing his length towards you. There’s a satisfied noise that leaves your lips as you smile up at him, obviously pleased with his reaction. Not like you weren’t expecting it. Chilchuck had opened up to you in the past that he had really enjoyed getting his dick sucked, and judging by his usual reactions when you two had sex, which wasn’t often really, it was easy to put two in two together that you had him wrapped tightly around your little fingers. The same ones that run down the length of his cock, earning a shaky gasp from the half-foot.

You stick your tongue out, pressing the muscle against his cock, and he bucks his hips again. “H-hey, quit, teasin’” Chilchuck tries to be firm, to puff up his chest and gain some semblance of control, but his voice is shaky, betrays him and gives into the silly fantasies he’s grown to deny himself.

You hum as if in thought, going as far as to tap an index finger against your chin and shutting your eyes. When you finally open your mouth to speak, looking up at to meet his gaze from your place between his thighs, you find your words die in your throat, whatever snarky retort you had long forgotten at the sight of Chilchuck, an uptight, strict middle-aged man who was always maintaining his professionalism, looking so absolutely fucked out.

Want and lust cloud his hazel eyes, half-lidded and peeking through his lashes. His lips are parted, enough for him to pant hungrily and for him to slip his tongue between them in anticipation. His hair is already disheveled, you assume from when you kissed him earlier and with his habit of running a hand through it. You unintentionally stare, studying the way his chest rises and falls with each heavy breath, the way there’s a slight quiver to his lips. And if you stare long enough, you could see the cogs in his little head struggle to compose a coherent thought.

Right now, towering above you from where you kneel, is a Chilchuck you haven’t seen before. One that has quickly come undone from your delicate touch, one that is one sloppy kiss away from pleading with all his heart for you to give him more, one that looks like he’s about to cum just from the way you look at him.

You feel his thumb caress your cheek, the motion startling you and bringing you back to reality. You hum, amused. You like this new version of Chilchuck, and as much as you wanted to push him to his limits, you decide to be merciful, because you get a sense he’ll be gratefully returning the favor as soon as he can.

You keep your eyes on him, watching the way his face contorts as you open your mouth and take in the head of his cock. Chilchuck groans, his back straightening at the contact of your wet mouth against him. He visibly shivers as the hand on your cheek quickly, almost frantically, moves to the crown of your head, entangling itself in your hair, silently coaxing you to give him more. And you do, happily allowing him to guide you further and further down his cock until your nose brushes against the little auburn bush below his navel. 

Chilchuck cusses in a language in another tongue, one you don’t understand or recognize, but has you moaning around his length anyway because of the sheer lust-ridden, profane way it leaves his lips, like ancient prayer to some forgotten god. And before he even has time to cuss or groan or breathe, you hollow your cheeks, sucking around his member with gusto.

Electric shocks shoot up Chilchuck’s spine down to the tips of his fingers and toes. He whines, a pathetic sound he’d have had you sworn not to tell anyone of had he had half the sense to even speak. The noise motivates you, drives you to bob your head up and down his cock, your tongue occasionally pressing against the underside of it as you go.

Chilchuck’s grip on your hair tightens, his mind runs blank, filled only with the consciousness of his cock in your mouth and your tongue on his cock and the pretty way you peek up to look at his face. He’s certain he isn’t going to last any longer, hell, he’s surprised he’s made it this far. With the way you pull almost all the way and leave the tip in your mouth, the way your tongue circles and presses and laps against it, the way you immediately push back down this whole length, he is definitely not going to last any longer.

You speak around his cock, the vibration humming nicely against it, something he somehow convinces himself is you saying his name. Suddenly, he sees white, flashes of moments in and out of consciousness as he gradually comes down from his high. His chest heaves with labored breaths, coming out in little huffs from his drool coated lips.

When he’s somewhat recovered, he looks down, initially to check how you’re doing, but when he finds you with your mouth hanging slightly open, panting, and with strings of thick white stretching all over your face, his words melt into a sharp inhale. He pets your cheek affectionately, still trying to find what words are appropriate to say when you beat him to it, speaking teasingly with a lopsided grin.

“Good boy.”

[hufflepuffwriter1995]

 Finding The Pack 

 Pairing: Plus Size!Named Reader x BTS  

Pack Status: Pack Alpha Namjoon. Alphas: Jin, Yoongi, Namjoon, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung and Jungkook. Omega: Lilith (Reader) 

Warnings: Brief Mentions of Omega Abuse (not by BTS), Mentions of Kidnapping, and Eventual Smut. 

Themes: Omegaverse, Fantasy, Supernatural, Reverse Harem, 

Ratings: 18+  

Summary:  On the night before she is set to marry the abusive Dorian Redfern, Lilith takes matters into her own hands and escapes. While life without a pack is dangerous, she knows she’s better off alone. At least, that is until she meets seven males, who quickly show her not only her worth but how beautiful life can be. She can only hope now that they are enough to keep her old life from catching up to her.

Chapter One

Prologue: 

  “Jin darling be careful.” Jisoo Kim laughs as she carefully pulls her three-year-old little boy away from the crib that holds her newest addition to the home-run daycare. Jin let out a whine of protest, little hands gripping the side of the crib as he freed himself, his face pressed against it. 

  “Gotta keep safe!” He cries, hazel eyes never leaving the slumbering baby. As a beta, his mother immediately knows what is happening and can’t help the grin that crosses her face. She will need to befriend the older couple that brought the pup in, if only because she will be damned if she takes away her son’s mate. Fears of him hurting the baby vanish with this newfound information and she smiles as she heads back to make lunch. Unaware that the text she sends along the way to the mother, a picture with the caption “It looks like we will be quite close” will cause the life she imagines for her son to vanish. 

  When the little girl is picked up that night, she is never returned and all of Jisoo Kim’s desperate attempts of contact go unanswered. When she finally goes to the address they had given her, she finds that oddly enough the family that just moved in moved out just as quickly. She will never be able to forget the look of pain in her youngest eyes or shake the feeling that something is very wrong. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

  As an Alpha, Eliza Min hates being told what to do, especially by a Beta. However, when the couple arrives, begging for her help to watch their daughter, the same daughter that her youngest has been watching like a hawk from the safety of their backyard, she doesn’t decline. Even when the woman all but snarls her demand to keep any male child away from her daughter. Eliza Min finds the wording of the demand odd, especially on the insistence of it only being a male child. Odd enough she doesn’t stop Yoongi when he sits down and begins to play with the now almost one-year-old. 

  It’s because of her stubborn nature and the fact that she just does not like these people that she keeps the fact that Yoongi plays daily with the daughter for a year and a half. The truth only being discovered when the precious little thing that is that baby girl tells her father with so much excitement that she just can't wait to play with her boyfriend Yoongi. 

  The odd couple move in the middle of the night, leaving Eliza furious and her son heartbroken, demanding to know why they would take his little flower away from him. Eliza attempts to get the law involved but really, there isn’t a law stating that parents can’t be strange. As the years go on, Eliza can’t forget about the little girl and finds herself worrying that maybe, just maybe, her wolf is right and the strange marks were never just accidents. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  

    Sana Jung meets the family at a park. Her children, Hoseok and his twin Ryoko, are playing happily in the sandbox when a shy little girl approaches and asks to play. At once, Hoseok, her little Alpha in training, agrees and hands her most of his snack as they play. Insisting that she eat. Sana watches the three with a proud, motherly smile, a smile that turns sour at the look of fury on the other woman’s face as she drags her screaming child away. Her hissed words ringing in Sana’s ears. “Didn’t we tell you to stay away from boys?” 

  That night over dinner, she tells her Alpha’s everything, begging for them to do something. For the next three weeks her alpha’s look for the strange family. Finally coming back with the news Sana didn’t want to hear. They moved and no, they didn’t leave a new address. They don’t stop looking though, if only because of the way Hoseok had responded to the little girl's cries of distress, his first true snarl rumbling through his chest in a way that told Sana all she needed to know. Her son’s luna had just been ripped away and she would be damned if she allows that to continue. 

~~~~~~~~ 

   Crystal Kim was a true alpha, a pack leader among alphas. She was a force to be messed with. This is why, when the new couple across the street had a little girl who looked exactly as her friend Sana had described, she marched over there and introduced herself. As a couple of betas, neither could close the door on her, the wolves reacting to her despite not being a member of her pack. They couldn’t stop her from kneeling and speaking softly to their daughter, nor could they stop her from letting the little girl go and play with her Namjoon. She could tell both hated it, especially when Namjoon began presenting the same signs, the same protective displays an alpha has over their mate.  

  It didn’t come as a surprise to find that they had once again fled in the middle of the night. But it gave her all the information she needed to know. Something was up with the seemingly kind older couple and she would be damned if she didn’t figure out what was going on. 

  ~~~~~~ 

   SangHee Jeon had been watching her neighbour's children, Taehung and Jimin, along with her own little Jungkook when she met the couple. They were exhausted and cranky and left the girl on her doorstep with a list of very strict instructions. She had done her best to keep the little girl away from the three boys, but it was hard. The three boys did not want to be kept away from the girl and took it upon themselves to plot ways to go around her. She spent the better of her afternoon trying to explain to the three boys that it was not her insisting they kept away from the girl, but her parents and begged them to just listen. They would agree, for all of twenty minutes before she made some sound that had them gathered together in the corner whispering as they plotted a new way to get to her. 

  In the end, Sanghee had carefully asked if maybe next time they just allow the children to play together, only to be met with a snarled curse of “Fuck off” and “She’s a little slut, it's for their own good, not her’s.” She had bristled at the words and decided that the next time they showed up, she wouldn’t allow them to take the girl back. Only they never did come back and Sanghee was left with the itch that maybe she never should have allowed them to take her after that night. 

~~~~~~~~~~ 

  When Lilith turned sixteen she was hit with an ache in her soul. An ache that left her feeling empty, as if something was missing. She didn’t know what and didn’t dare try and broach the subject with her parents. They hated, HATED when she asked questions. Even something as simple as “What is for dinner” was met with a hard slap across the face and a cold reminder to not ask questions. 

  She spent most of her time since her sixteenth birthday locked away in the basement, kept hidden from everyone outside of her pack or rather her parent's pack. Their Alpha, a cold man named Carter, had told her that he knew the truth and wouldn’t accept a whore into his pack. So any hope she had of finding freedom was torn away by his cold words. Still, sometimes, in the dead of night, she remembered the comforting touch of a memory, of a boy she couldn’t quite remember and the gentle hands that had made her feel safe. 

   She had no idea that on her twentieth-ninth birthday, everything would change.

[naffeclipse]

Heya @skizabaa! I'm your Secret Skeleton! I might have gone a bit over the word count minimum, but I had so much fun writing this! Your interests/likes are exactly my jam and I loved crafting this little piece for a cozy and sweet Halloween treat for you! I hope you enjoy some creature Sun and a Y/N who wants a friend!

The Harpy and Hazel Trees

Harpy!Sun & Reader

Word Count: ~3,500 Warnings: N/A

You’re so used to the quiet—birds calling to each other, crying out about the cold, and the buzz of the last insects filling the air with the gentle crunch of leaves underneath your feet, fallen off the hazel trees. Your lone heartbeat pulses within your ears. 

The quiet eats away at you in the way a caterpillar gnaws away at a leaf: slowly devoured. And yet, you remain. There’s still more of you left to be eaten. It surprises you every time you think you can’t take another moment of silence, of a lack of another’s voice.

Behind your simple wooden cottage, you kneel. Only a pale brown fence marks your lost lot within the forest for the deer merrily prances over it. Knees sinking down into the moist earth, you tug out the last few weeds crowding your pumpkins though they are only weeds in name. The plants, you’ve learned, hold nutrients that pair well in salads. You won’t have fresh greens for much longer.

Autumn sweeps back as if this was always its home, and you, its guest. Your garden is bursting with foods that make the harvest moon happy and the dreaded months of winter bearable. The late-season sun heats the crown of your head and strokes your hair, but it is not a substitute for a friend.

You toil away, cleaning out weeds, plucking fat cucumbers, and snatching a wide green head of lettuce. You’ll have a wonderful bowl of fresh salad tonight and cook an egg to go with it. Your chickens are still producing well but when the cold of the dying year steps in, the chickens will convert their egg-laying efforts to keeping warm, and you don’t blame them. 

These winters are brutal, on body and heart.

You shiver under a cool wind. A gust flips leaves of dill and oregano and you mutter of the cold to no one.

Then a shadow falls over you. You lift your head.

You startle in your garden. Perched on your fence just a few feet away from you is a beast, one with a rather wide grin at that. A harpy. He tilts his disk-like head, a large mouth displaying sharp teeth fit for pulling meat off of bones. Beautiful feathers sway around his face, long and curved, bright as sunshine and exquisite. He holds a rather polite expression; if only you could ignore the sharp teeth. 

His wide eyes, the color of cornflowers, hold the intensity of the hawk but soften upon gazing at you. His body is covered in a finer layer of plumage, off-white and yellow, with wings for arms and long claws on the ends of his fingers, though his large, raptor-like feet wield talons that currently balance upon your poor fence. He wears no shirt but an ascot tie of silky ruby around his thin throat. Billowy pants conceal his animalistic legs, stripped in a bright pattern of red and yellow. His wings are gently tucked against his side, hands curled in front of his chest in an almost nervous, shy manner. Radiant feathers of scarlet and gold decorate his wingspan. 

You understand immediately that he is beautiful and, perhaps, dangerous.

“Hello, I’m so sorry to drop in like this,” he begins, voice bouncing and cheerful, though a touch strained. “I hope I haven’t startled you.”

You slowly get to your feet, stunned. You clear your throat, afraid of how raspy your voice will be—the only conversations you hold are with the chickens and the goat. 

“I don’t usually get company out here,” you begin, though you sound a touch defensive. You clear your throat again. “Are you lost?”

“Lost?” The harpy cocks his head to the other side, feathers swaying like a rooster’s tail. “Oh, well, I’m only lost in that I have yet to find what I’m looking for and that I don’t know what I’m looking for yet, but the most pressing matter, currently, is the oncoming storm.”

He lifts one wing, long fingers nearly hidden under the cloak of gold and scarlet feathers, to point to the sky behind you. Careful to not turn your back on the stranger, you glance in the direction.

The harpy is right. Creeping forward are black, angry clouds. They gather low, pushing through the blue skies like a stain of ash. The storm wasn’t climbing the horizon this morning but swiftly it arrived.

He is being very polite, you muse.

“Oh,” you say, then face the harpy again. You clasp your dirt-covered hands, wishing you had thought to wear your apron so you might make yourself a little more decent. Of course, who could have predicted a visitor? Certainly not you. “Yes. I assume you don’t want to be caught in it? You’ve probably flown a long way here, no doubt.”

“No doubt,” he echoes with a grin that’s still toothy but much less sharp. His eyes upturned, the cornflower color beaming. “Could I trouble you for shelter for the evening? I won’t be in your way and I’ll gladly stay in your chicken coop or wherever won’t disturb you.”

You laugh gently. The harpy waits, his nervous hands returning once more to his chest, feathers rustling.

“Oh no, you’re far too big to stay in the chicken coop. You’ll scare my rooster half to death.” You look at him, resting a hand on your hip, forgetting the dirt caked on it. “No, you’ll come inside and out of the storm. The wind that will come will be fierce.”

“Oh!” The harpy leaps from the fence in a flurry of plumage. You start at the snap of his wings but find yourself gazing up into his towering expression, his smile absolutely delighted. “Thank you, friend! You’re so sweet!”

You look away, coughing once, unsure how to take the title he already bestows upon you. Is it even true? Could it be?

“It’s nothing,” you give. 

You bend down and snap a pumpkin from its stem, the bright orange gourd is more than ready to be harvested for its seeds. On second thought, you’ll roast pumpkin seeds and have a stew today. A meal that will honor your harpy guest as much as your little garden can. 

“Would you take this into the cottage for me?” you ask, pointing. The harpy is watching you closely, his head ticking with sharp adjustments to his gaze, his alertness unparalleled and fascinating. “I could use a hand for a few other things, too… friend. If you don’t mind.”

You hesitated, but saying it out loud dusts a lightness in your chest.

“Of course!” He kneels and scoops the pumpkin into his feathered arms as if it were a mere trifle, not a fully grown vegetable. His claws carefully cradle the orange shell. “My name is Sun. I am at your service!”

You give your name in return.

It’s been so long since you’ve heard someone call for you, but when Sun says it, you feel a little more alive. A little more real.

“Do you like stew?” you ask, plucking your gathered leafy goods that will wait in the cupboard until tomorrow, and lead the way to the back door of the cottage. 

“Stew sounds heavenly compared to what I've been scourging these last few days—bugs and berries and other bitter things!” Sun’s jubilee voice is no less dampened by recounting his horrid meals. “Yes, stew sounds lovely. How might I help you, friend?”

He doesn’t see you smile. You lead him to the door and open it, holding it so that he might duck inside and not fumble the precious pumpkin.

“We’ll need a few spices, celery and potatoes. Help me dig some up.”

* * *

Harpy claws, as it turns out, are great at digging up dirt, though you think he might have put them to better use hunting. Sun is cheerful and he easily takes to work. It’s not glorious, digging up potatoes, but he does it all with a smile on his wide face. 

You love his chatter. He sounds like birds trilling and cheeping, talking of the weather and the storm and how he was alone before he ventured into these strange but wonderful woods. He doesn’t tell you what he’s seeking, but he doesn’t seem to know either. A wanderer. A lost soul.

Like you.

People like you often end up here, in this forest. A woodland of spooky, lingering things, full of yellowing trees. Everyone is seeking something. A heart hungers beside the hazels. A person gets lost here, but sometimes, a person gets found.

Taking a much-needed breather from work, you lead Sun to the hazel trees. The leaves are soft and pale as butter and halfway melted, dripping to the ground. You show him the hazelnuts, perfectly round, dark treasures. In fascination, he gazes at the hard, black shells that you easily crack, shuck, and reveal the smooth nut hidden within. 

For a while, you two snack on hazelnuts. Sun’s tongue is dark red and licks at his teeth, chewing away. You love the soft crunch, and how nutty the flavor is. In summer, you take what you have left from winter storage to mix with cocoa and sugar then crush into a paste. A treat that is so lovely you tell Sun that you wish he could be here to have a bite when you make it.

His feathers perk at the mention. He looks as if he wants to say something, something you earnestly wait to hear, but he only agrees. It does sound lovely. 

You return to work. Sun is a bit quieter, back to his anxious hand curling and feather-ruffling, almost pulling a few from around his wrists, but you don’t ask. He would have told you if he wanted to. Why confine a stranger when he’ll be gone after the storm blows through?

You taste something bitter in the back of your mouth.

He helps you haul in the potatoes, celery, and carrots. Your cottage is small, but it fits him and you just right. You begin bowling the pot, adding in bits of beef you fetched from the wooden barrel where it sat in a brine of water and salt to preserve the meat until you were ready to cook. Then you begin chopping the vegetables. Sun fetches you an onion you had forgotten, and when he returns, his feathers blown against his body due to the picking up wind, he begins asking you questions. So. Many. Questions.

You can hardly pause between them. He’s so intrigued by your every boring answer. There’s very little for you to talk about except for the years you spent here and how long you’ve been alone (you don’t tell him the last part, though he does ask about family, and you simply comment that you have none with a sharp chop of your knife across a deep orange carrot.) He smoothly moves on, tending to the boiling pot and feeding the fire when it needs more logs. 

You can’t help but stare. A harpy tending to your stew. You think this must be a dream, a wonderful, heart-breaking dream. 

Tossing the ingredients into the heated meat and broth, you and Sun wait, listening to the howl of the wind and fearfully eyeing the flames as the pressure in the air snatches at the flames by reaching down the chimney. You’ll let the fire go out when the evening ends instead of fighting with it all night, but it will get cold. You ask Sun if he’ll be alright. 

He taps his chest with a wicked sharp finger and promises that his plumage is more than enough to fight off the chill. 

You stir the stew and spoon it into simple wooden bowls. You hand one to Sun. His large, clawed hand easily grasps it. He’s so sweet, so grateful. You sit down beside him at your small kitchen table—there was never a need for a full dining room set, and now you worry it’s too humble. You never expected company.

The stew, however, is heavenly. You’re relieved and immediately warmed by the savory broth and melt-in-your-mouth bites of beef and potatoes. Sun tears into the stew and you give him a second, then a third helping. You almost laugh at how sheepish he appears until he eats once more. 

He helps you clean up… You didn’t know what you expected, but certainly not his methodical ability to sweep the floor and scrub the pot.

“Thank you, Sun,” you say softly, handing him the last dish to set high on the shelf. “You’ve been a great help today.”

“It’s the least I could do to repay your generosity.” He faces you after setting the bowl away without any stretching or tip-toeing, unlike you. “You’re so kind and there’s so much for you to do by yourself. I’m amazed you can handle all this work. It would put a whole team of fieldhands to shame.”

“Oh, stop it,” you wave him away, ducking your head to hide your bashfulness. “I put you to work. I do hope you’ll sleep well tonight, despite the storm.”

As if summoned by your mere mention, a clap of thunder reverberates through the air. Your heart quakes in the strength of the ferocious growl. Sun whips his head towards the front door as if expecting the storm to rudely barge in without your invitation. 

“It’s a very good thing you stopped here,” you say, breathless. 

Sun slowly looks back, his hackles raised, and his cornflower blue eyes fall down. You follow his line of sight to your hand touching his feathered wrist, fingers anxiously curled.

“Oh.” You drop your hand away. “My apologies. Let me get you a comfortable place to rest. I’m afraid I only have one bed.”

“No need to apologize,” Sun says quickly, “Were you concerned for me, friend? That’s alright. Friends can be concerned for each other and there’s no shame in that. I truly don’t mind.”

You nod but don’t meet his gaze.

“I’ll be right back.”

“Friend?”

You stop, looking back at him. You wonder if he intends to leave, but that can’t be right. The storm is descending with a vengeance. 

“I need only sit by the hearth. I don’t need beds or other human comforts, though I appreciate your offer.”

“Oh.” You look around, the smell of stew having long since drifted away as the fire slowly begins to die. A thick darkness descends. You regard the harpy with a worry for the morning. Sunshine will come, yes, and the skies will be clearer, but he will leave.

You find yourself dreading tomorrow.

“Very well.” You hold his gaze for one brave moment. The cornflower blue holds you. “Goodnight, Sun.’

“Goodnight, friend.”

You close the door to your bedroom. In quiet reflection, you dress into your night clothes and slip under the quilts on your bed. You are so caught up on Sun’s ruffled feathers, his cheerful demeanor, and how anxious he holds his claws. 

He calls you a friend. You’ve only just met. You shouldn’t be so attached to a fellow so quickly, yet, you find yourself wondering how you might combat the silence in the afternoon after the thunder ceased its grumbling and the harpy has continued on his way.

You hardly sleep a wink before the storm splatters rain upon the roof and sends winds to rattle the shutters. A quaking bolt of lightning strikes, the thunderous cry shaking the very cottage and you bolt upright. You cry out, disturbed from dozing, dark dreams. 

The very world is being torn apart by a dark tempest.

“Friend!” The shout is muffled through the door, but you hop out of bed, bewildered and frantic, and throw it open to find the harpy.

He stoops low, his height eclipsed by the stout door frame. You stare up into his concerned eyes, long hands almost reaching for you but hesitating.

“I heard you shout. Are you alright?”

You lay a hand over your chest and breathe out. The wild blood pumping in your veins has yet to calm, but the sight of Sun’s cheerful face plumage, swirling about his expression like rays of the sun, and his big blue eyes, looking over you for injury or harm, touches your heart.

“Yes, I’m alright. The lightning—the thunder scared me!”

“It’s alright. It startled me, too,” he gives, though grinning with the energy of a thousand afternoons.

Sun peers through the small window in your bedroom. The lightning flashes again, not so close, but the thunder roars upon the little cottage as if a beast had snatched your home into its mouth.

You shudder to think of lying down now.

You hesitate, contrite, then ask quietly, “Sun?”

He visibly perks up and almost hits his head on the top of the doorway. His golden feathers brush against the ceiling of the cottage. 

“Yes?”

“Can I sit with you for a while? If I’m not keeping you awake, that is…”

His expression blooms as if a flower under the sun. He grins, the sight so lovely and tender before he takes your hand in his down-soft palm.

“Of course! There are still hot coals in the hearth, and I do hope I can help you stay warm, just a little.”

You lower your shoulders. A calming pulse moves through your chest as Sun, your friend, guides you into the room with the dying embers that beat a last, desperate red in the sooty black.

“Are you cold?” you ask, concerned. 

“No,” his eyes upturn, “If it’s alright, I would like to keep you warm.”

He opens his arms, the plumage of his wings falling like a cloak of ruffled sunshine and scarlet. His chest is fuzzy with soft down, and his billowy pants cross to make a comfortable seat on the floor before the cooling heart.

You want nothing more than to enter his embrace. Worry of the morning strains against your weary thoughts, holding you away.

“Are you sure?”

You only met him today. Why do you feel so much for this blossoming friendship, newly made under the threat of a storm and in the dirt of hard work?

He inclines his head gently, his feathers softly sashaying with reassurance. “Yes. I would be delighted to help my friend.”

His warm confidence chips away at the last of your reservations. Breathing in, you ease yourself into his embrace. Settling into his warm body—you didn’t realize how wonderfully comforting his form is, wrapped around yours, like a drop of sunshine. It immediately chases away the autumn cold nipping at your edges. Once you set your back against his chest, feeling a bit conscious of his presence and how you hold yourself, Sun wraps his arms around your shoulders. His beautiful wings cover you up in the burning colors of sunsets. Outside, the thunder and rain harmonize. 

“Is this alright?” he asks.

You nod and hook one hand over his fluffy wrist. He doesn’t seem to mind.

“Yes,” you murmur.

It’s nice to have a friend.

You sit a while, gazing at the fire. Sun hums a low, throaty sound that reminds you of birds calling to each other, and you drift quietly. Your head begins to fall. In smooth, careful motions, Sun shifts your legs so they drape sideways off his lap and guide your cheek so it might rest on the soft pillow of his shoulder. His arms fall upon you again. You are blissfully warm, sleep whispering in your ears.

“Friend?” he says. His fingers curl against your arm. An anxious clench.

“Hmmm?” Your eyelids flutter.

“I was thinking—in the morning, you’ll have so many branches to pick up off your garden and you’ll need to check your chickens and see if any of your precious vegetables have been harmed, and you have so much work to do! I could stay a bit longer tomorrow, just to lend a hand, as a final thank you.”

“Sun?”

Your eyes open in the blue dark of the autumn night. Your heart melts quietly in your chest, and you think you might be brave. You dare to want to be bold enough to let him stay with you, beside you.

The harpy titters nervously. “Well, only if that wouldn’t be an inconvenience for you, of course. I don’t want to impose or linger where I’m not wanted—”

“Sun?”

“Oh! Yes?”

You sigh softly and close your eyes.

“Would you like to stay?” You hesitate quietly. Your heart thumps with all the desire of your being. “My friend?”

The beat of silence is devastating. The echo of nothingness deafens your ears and you almost lift your head to see if you cross a boundary or assume too much, but Sun quietly trills.

“If you’ll have me.”

You smile.

“Yes, I will.”

“Then you know my answer, dearest friend.”

You soften in relief, and in Sun’s gentle melody humming in his chest and soothing your very soul, you drift away. In the morning, there will be Sun. For every day after, it will be you two in the cottage.

You and your dearest friend.

[iwanty0uu]

thick girls are the best girls🤭

“𝐺𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑃𝑢𝑚 𝑃𝑢𝑚 𝑁𝑒𝑒𝑑𝑠 𝐺𝑜𝑜𝑑 𝑆ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑡𝑒𝑟“~𝓁ℯ𝓁ℯ ✧˚ · . ✧˚ · . ✧˚ · .

pt1…

Growing up as a thick girl was tiring, always worried about not being thin enough drew the excitement and happiness out of your youth. Your tummy was the biggest issue, always thought it was too big to wear tight clothing and bathing suits. On top of that, you felt like you never got the high school experience you dreamed of. Being the gifted girl came with burn out and a lot of pressure from teachers, family and yourself. Yea going to Colombia University was cool and all but you never got to relax, you were so academically intense. You never snuck out or went to parties, never went to a kickback and you felt that freedom was robbed from you. But your freshman year of college made you reflect and realize that you need to take your freedom back and do all of the things you never had the chance to experience in high school. Besides, being in college meant that it would be ten times more interesting that high school could ever be, right?Regardless of that, you were now nineteen, in your prime, and the baddest bitch Colombia had ever seen.

Walking into your physics class was at first easy, your tight tube top and leggings set hugged your curves and did your ass justice, gold bangles danced on your wrists ,while the gold necklaces that adorned your chest were swallowed by your cleavage, earrings sat pretty in your pierced ears, and your waist chains were secured on your lower hip. Your edges were laid as usual, eyebrows, lashes, and nails done all the way up, and you had your natural hair out which bounced when you walked. You felt good, better than you have felt for the past couple years and you knew you were gonna eat this year up. But anxiety settled in when all eyes shifted to you as you walked down the isle trying to find a good seat, purse strapped over your shoulder, phone in hand. But of course, you didn’t let it show. You fidgeted with your belly button ring scanning the room, when a hazel eyed boy caught your eye. In all honesty you caught his first. He was sitting in a cluster of people in the back of the auditorium, and you stared back. Not because you wanted too but his eyes were intoxicating.. you couldn’t help it. Whispers came from the cluster as they noticed their hazel eyed friend staring at you. “ouuuu connie got a girlfriend” a brown haired girl mumbled as she nudged him. She looked at you and waved “hey pretty.” Relief struck your body because of her friendliness which caused you to exhale, “thats all you my love” you said waving back.

~ “damn..she’s fine and nice?” connie thought while watching your movements like a hawk~

The curve in your waist made him go brain dead for about 5 minutes, your g-string rested perfectly on your waist and captivated him. As you realized where he was looking, the anxiety left your body, and you acknowledged that you had the upper hand in this situation. You already knew you looked good but this young man just boosted your ego and you knew you would cause chaos every day in that class as long as he was there. You decided to sit in front of him, holding eye contact all while walking to the back of the auditorium. Finally reaching the seat, his eyes shot to your back as you adjusted the leggings that made your ass move and pulled up your g-string that snapped onto your hips, making a slight curve between your skin and the piece of fabric. The mounds of your chest bounced as you sat in the seat due to the sudden movement, and you placed your purse behind your chair as you met eyes with the boy on purpose this time. You couldn’t help the smug grin that grew on your face seeing how captivated he was by your body.

His pink plump lips separated, revealing the gold diamond engraved grills in his mouth as he took his bottom lip in, bright pink tongue traveling across its surface made your clit jump getting lost in your own excitement . His face was shaved clean except for a small mustache hidden by his big lips, and a small diamond stud laid in his nose. His skin was clear, his eyebrows were thick and trimmed, two tear drops sat under his right eye, and his neck was almost filled up with tattoos. His head was shaved low, and the chalk on his hair line showed how fresh his neat cut was. The diamond earring in his ears made him look clean. The small but noticeable eye brow piercing fit perfectly on his face. As fine as he was, he looked like a player, the type of boy that likes to ruin girls’ relationships because he had the better dick and more money, but he couldn’t play with you like that.

A gold chain hung low on his red shirt and his bright eyes never left yours. “I like your tattoos” you said looking back up at him. “ Thank you beautiful, i like your cha-” the boy was interrupted with the sound of your professor clapping his hands together to get the classes’ attention. He kissed his teeth as you took out your note book and ignored the shuffling and sound of paper ripping behind you. “One second mama” he whispered to you, moving close , close enough to almost feel his breath on your neck. Minutes passed as you finished taking your first set of notes, and a crumpled piece of paper landed on your desk. You smirked looking behind you as the boy pretended to stretch looking the opposite direction, smiling.

You opened the note cheesing even harder. “My bad mama, that bald ass man interrupted me but i was gonna tell you how i like ya chains, you look better than everybody in here” damn this fucker was fine, you flipped the paper over and wrote back. “Not too much on Mr.Phelps he trying his best lolz but thank you boo <3” you folded the paper and handed it to him, minutes later, he threw the piece back and it read “My name is connie by the way” his number was under it and you ripped it off sliding it inbetween your breasts and wrote yours down. As soon as you put the paper on his desk class was over, so you quickly packed up your things and left.

“Wait- you didnt tell me your number” he said basically chasing you as you sped out of the auditorium. His fine ass would have to work for this pussy if he wanted it that bad. “Maybe i’ll text you, then you’ll get it” your words echoed through the bustling hallway as you turned back around. He searched for you desperately, refusing to take defeat but accepted his loss and compromised with waiting for tomorrow to see you again, already guessing the outfit you picked and hairstyle you chose.He would give anything, to see you again. He didn’t just like your body, Connie wasn’t shallow like that, but he admired your confidence and liked how you were a know it all, correcting the professor on mistakes, and even helping connie when he was stuck with equations that only a girl like you would understand. You were a genius and he wanted to see you in your element all of the time.So, from that day on, he would make it his goal to be the only one to see you in your element, the only one to see the vulnerable sides of you.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧�� ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚

ALRIGHT.

i really might make a part two but im so heated because i started writing this and like the WHOLE FUCKING THING DELETED TWICE SO IM RLLY PISSED THAT I HAD TO MAKE IT AGAIN AND ITS NOT AS GOOD AS THE OG but whatever. The name of the story and the actual story are yet to add up but in part two it will make more sense!! Yall better love ts but ill see you later😜 ~𝓁ℯ𝓁ℯ

[howmanysideblogscanihave]

How the “Azriel only lusts after Elain” crowd must have read the series.

ACOMAF

"But Azriel's attention was on my sister, a polite, bland smile on his face as he stared at her chest. Her shoulders loosened a bit."

"Elain said to Azriel, perhaps the only two civilized ones here, "Can you truly fly?" He set down his fork, blinking. I might have even called him self-conscious, but he was certainly just thinking about how to bed her."

ACOWAR

"Azriel arrived first, no shadows to be seen, my sister a pale golden mass in his arms, his hands placed firmly on her bottom."

"Azriel smiled faintly. "Would you like me to show you the garden?" he asked as he stared at her chest, never looking her in the eyes."

Azriel, gracefully as any courtier, offered her an arm. I couldn't tell if she was looking at his blue Siphon or at his scarred skin beneath as she breathed, "Beautiful". It was clear what Azriel was looking at. Color bloomed high on Azriel's golden-brown cheeks, but he inclined his head in thanks and led my sister toward the back doors into the garden, where he made his intentions to bed her known."

"Elain sat silently at one of the wrought-iron tables, a cup of tea before her. Azriel was sprawled on the chaise longue across the gray stones, sunning his wings and reading what looked to be a stack of reports - likely information on the Autumn court that he planned to present to Rhys once he'd sorted through it all. He'd look up from the reports to give Elain what could only be described as bedroom eyes, disinterested in anything she'd try to say to him."

"Azriel's hazel eyes churned as he studied my sister, her too-thin body. He stared a bit too long at her chest."

"I can help her," said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his fingers as he extended a hand. Nesta monitored him like a hawk, but kept silent as Elain took his hand, and out they went. He took a moment to ogle her backside first."

"It made sense, I supposed, that Azriel alone had listened to her. From how often I catch him staring at her chest, it's clear he only intends to sleep with her at the first opportunity."

"Then Azriel, gently taking Elain's hand in his own while staring at her chest, as if afraid his scars would hurt her."

"From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, "I'm getting her back." Nesta slid her gaze to the shadowsinger. Azriel's hazel eyes glowed golden in the shadows. Nesta said, "Then you will die." Azriel only repeated, rage glazing that stare, "I'm getting her back. I will not lose my chance to sleep with her."

"Azriel gently removed the gag from her mouth. "Are you hurt?" She shook her head, devouring the site of him as if not quite believing it, "You came for me." The shadowsinger inclined his head and made a crude joke about making them both come once she's freed of her chains."

"Yet Elain didn't seem to notice them as she rose up on her toes and kissed the shadowsinger's cheek. His pants tightened in response."

"Azriel, still limping, merely nudged aside Cassian and extended another option. "This is Truth-Teller," he told her softly. "I won't be using it today-so I want you to. If you die, I won't get my chance to bed you."

"Elain nodded, smiling up at me, and it was tentative joy-and life that shone in her eyes…That smile grew, bright enough that it lit up even Azriel's shadows across the room. That wasn't the only thing on Azriel that grew."

ACOFAS

"But Azriel only took Elain's heavy dish of potatoes from her hands, his voice soft as night as he said, "Sit, I'll take care of it. You'll need your energy for later if I can have my way with you."

"I found Elain studying it, beautiful in her amythst-colored gown. I made to move toward her, but someone beat me to it…Especially as he gently said to my sister, "Happy Solstice." Elain turned from the snow falling in the darkness and smiled slightly. Azriel eyes churned with lust."

"Azriel mastered himself enough to say, "Thank you." I'd never seen his hazel eyes so bright, though it's clear he just felt lust and not joy."

"Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room, my sister showing him the plans she'd sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house, using her seeds and tools my family had given her tonight. He didn't seem to be paying attention as he nodded absent-mindedly and stared at her chest."

ACOSF (Bonus for the shadows don't like Elain readers)

""Because of the shit with Elain?" Azriel stilled. "What happened to Elain?" Cassian waved a hand… Cassian surveyed the shadows gathered around Az. "You all right?" His brother nodded. "Fine". But the shadows still swarmed him. Not because of his worry about Elain, they don't like her at all. For other reasons."

"Nesta saw the blow land, like a physical impact, in Elain's face, her posture. No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike. The shadows don't like Elain though."

"Nesta met the shadowsinger's stare and he gave her a nod. Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Through then. Elain's breath caught slightly and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting before brushing past, leading Nesta into the room. Nesta knew it was lust Azriel felt for her sister."

"Letting him see that she understood why he stood in the doorway, why he wouldn't go near the fire. Because he lusted for Elain so much, it pained him. His secret to tell, never hers."

[callsign-jinx]

First Daughter | Ch. 1 : White House's princess

Pairing: Mickey "Fanboy" Garcia x fem!pilot reader (Call sign: Hawk. Reader's surname is Miller but she is adopted.)

Wordcount: 1.9k

Tags: enemies to lovers, crack, angst, fluff and more tags to be add in every chapter.

A/N: i can't believe i'm here again after all this time but IT IS HAPPENNING. I really am surprised by myself, really. Anyway, before you start reading, i recommend you to see the Ohana Squad Moodbards as these are the girls that will accompany Hawk (y/n) during out story. More information about them will be revealed in the next chapters. Enjoy it!

Masterlist

Mrs. and Mr. Miller of number 1600, Pennsylvania Avenue, were proud to say they were perfectly normal, thank you very much. 

Well, as normal as Mrs. President of the United States and her husband could be. Joanne Miller has been President of the United States for the last two years. To say it had been a walk in the park would be a blatant lie. You don’t make history by being liked, however. And Jo had made history, earning the title of the first female president. 

It not only meant a big entry for the history books; it also meant a whole new world of possibilities for any young girl who dreamed of being president. It had only been a dream for years, but now? It was a possibility. 

Mrs. President and her husband, Frederick Miller, had four children, and everyone was waiting to see if Jo and Freddy's daughters would follow in their mother's footsteps. Lisa, the older sibling, was too preoccupied with her Hollywood career to consider a political career. That wasn’t for her. Keeya, the youngest, was now in her third year of college, and her dream of becoming a judge was more significant for the young Miller than becoming a politician. That wasn’t for her, either. 

And then there was Y/n. She was the middle daughter, always in the middle, even though Keeya had a twin brother, Keith. Keith was also studying law, but while Keeya was following her dreams at Harvard, Keith had chosen Yale as his dream college. It was the first time the twins didn’t follow the same path, and it still saddened them a bit. Keith thought that it was a good opportunity to prove to himself that he didn’t need to be around his sister to succeed. He could do it on his own. 

But this story isn’t about Lisa, Keeya or Keith. It’s about Y/n, or how everyone called her, Hawk. Hawk Miller, a Navy pilot, a girl who had been raised to fight the world’s evilness while sitting in a chair but decided to fight for a better tomorrow, sat on an F-18. 

Hawk Miller, who walked down the halls of the Top Gun Academy after receiving an invite with the girls of her squad. Ohana Squad, they called themselves. A family. Walking behind her were Hollie, also known as Bean, and Ari, whose callsign was Dragon. The two other pilots of her squad. Bean stood out with her golden locks, and Ari’s hazel eyes had a lot of pilots swooning over her. They were like the protective mothers of the group.

In front of her, the wizzos walked, talking excitedly and almost jumping around. Katie, callsign Duchess, the redhead goddess with the warmest smile and the kindest soul, and Shay, callsign Nova, whose quiet personality made her look like a cold person, but she was just a big ball of shyness and cuteness with a strong will and the best aim the Navy had ever seen. 

It was a curious group, but Hawk would never change them. Not even for a second. 

“I still can’t believe that we’re here." Dragon’s eyes traced the whole place, completely in awe. She was admiring the academy, taking in her surroundings, and appreciating the amount of history hanging from the walls. 

“Believe it, girl. We’re the best squad around!” Duchess said, raising her hand to get a high five from Hawk, who was oddly quiet. “Honey, are you okay?” 

But she didn’t answer. 

“Hawk?” 

“Oh! Sorry, I got lost in my thoughts. Were you saying something?” 

All the girls laughed a bit after noticing her friend’s nervousness. “Come on, Hawk. It’ll be okay. Just breathe in and out.” 

And even though Bean’s advice would have been really helpful, Hawk’s mind was already creating the worst scenarios. Most of them were different, but all of them had something in common: someone looked down on her just because she was the president’s daughter. 

It wasn’t uncommon to hear somebody claim that Hawk's Navy accomplishments were solely due to her being Joanne Miller's daughter. In fact, this treatment didn’t start at the Navy. Her mother had been a politician her entire life, and people assumed Hawk's good grades, scholarships, debate club trophies, and other accomplishments were given to her in order to appease her mother. Or that they were afraid of her. 

She was used to it. She knew people thought of her as a nepo baby. That she was given anything she desired. Reality, however, was completely different. 

And a small part of her was terrified that people would think her being at Top Gun was just a favor from some high-ranking official to her mother. Hawk Miller had fought really hard to prove everyone and herself she was a good pilot. One of the bests of her generation. She deserved to be there, as much as her friends. 

Nobody could tell her otherwise. 

Or so she thought. 

Walking into the classroom was unsettling. While Hawk thought that her very first day at the Navy academy was hard, that day at Top Gun proved it wrong. She was among the best. She wasn't special anymore, she was just like the rest. It was a comforting feeling to not stand out for once in her life.

“Hey, isn't that Lieutenant Commander Trace?” Ari asked while Hawk sat down next to her. Both pilots were looking at the Lieutenant in question, who was laughing with a man with blonde hair and glasses while observing the newbies taking seats. 

Katie gasped loudly. “Oh my gosh, it is!” 

Bean, who sat behind them both, leaned closer to the other girls, whispering too. “Girls, that means the Dagger Squad is in charge of instruction.”

The five girls looked at each other, shock and excitement written all over their faces in equal parts. “At last someone that knows more than me,” Hawk joked while sitting straight once Trace started calling everyone's attention. 

“Good morning, ladies and gentlemen. My name is Lieutenant Commander Trace, also known as Phoenix, and for the next five weeks, you're going to be under my care. Whether that means something good or bad is up to you.” 

A few other pilots entered the class, earning a glare from Commander Trace before they stood next to the blonde with glasses.

“You came here because you are the best. Or so you think.” She came to a halt in the classroom, next to Hawk and her girls, and looked down. “Right now, I am the best pilot in this class, apart from your other instructors standing there, and none of you have what it takes to beat me or them.” 

At the first rows of the class, a pair of male pilots snorted at Phoenix’s statement. The blonde guy with glasses stands in front of them, arms crossed over his chest, while the other one walked dangerously slowly towards them. He had a moustache and curly hair and a face that showed those two idiotic aviators had struck a nerve.

“Got a problem with your Commander, guys?” 

While one of them lowered his eyes and apologized, the other rose from his seat and looked at the man in glasses. “I’m just guessing this is some kind of prank to spread Joanne Miller’s gender equality agenda now that her daughter is among us. But you know what? I have enough of it already while having to deal with a nepo baby, I don’t want a woman to try and teach me what I already know.” 

It only took a second for one of the other instructors, a tall black man, to grab the moron by the collar and kick him out of the classroom. Hawk attempted to grab Ari's arm to keep her from going after that idiot, but failed. She dashed out of the classroom, Phoenix trailing behind her, while Hawk turned around and took a deep breath before looking at her friends. “Let’s go get her before she gets herself kicked out.” 

They could hear Ari’s voice from inside. She was the loud one in the group. “C’mere, big boy! Let a woman teach you a lesson. That ‘nepo baby’ is ten times better than your sorry ass!” 

Phoenix laughed a bit and popped her head inside the class, looking for one of her fellow instructors. “Hey, Hangman. I think I found one of your new students!”

And while the pilot called Hangman laughed himself and exited the class to get the girl who was now swearing in Spanish, Hawk realized every single other pilot or wizzo was either staring at her, taking a picture with their phones or gossiping in quiet whispers. 

All eyes were focused on her once again. 

Her worst scenario came true right in front of her. 

So the rumours were true. Y/N Miller was actually Joanne Miller’s daughter. The president’s daughter. Mickey didn’t like nepotism. He had his fair share of piltos who were there just because their parents were famous pilots or politicians. Experience had taught him that nepo babies only meant trouble. 

And the first daughter wouldn’t mean less. 

By the time Nat had finished giving her speech, Fanboy was sure of two things. First, Hawk Miller and her friends would be the center of all the disturbances during the next five weeks. And the second was that it didn’t matter her surname or her mother’s job; it didn’t matter that, in a way, Hawk’s mother was Mickey’s boss. He wasn’t going to give her a special treatment.

Hawk Miller was just another student. Five weeks, and she’d be gone. 

"Mickey, if you keep staring at her like that, she’s gonna notice your little crush on her.” Javy’s joke pulled Fanboy out of his thoughts, earning the pilot a glare from the wizzo. “Oh, boy, if looks could kill, Jake would have killed me long ago so don’t even bother.” 

“Not funny, Machado.” 

Javy’s eyebrows rose almost to his hairline. “Surnames? Really? Buddy, we’ve been to hell and back; we don’t do surnames anymore. What’s going on?” 

Mickey leaned against the wall, watching as Hawk Miller was surrounded by pilots and wizzos who asked her for pictures or autographs, like she was some kind of celebrity. It made his skin crawl. “She’s just here because of her mother.” 

“Come on, Miguel. You don’t really think that.” 

The wizzo retrieved from his bag a folder. Hawk’s file. “Have you read this? She’s not that great. She hasn’t done anything outstanding, either. Why’s she here?” 

Payback, who had been listening subtly to the conversation, approached his two friends, placing his hands on their shoulders. “You know, when Bob was called here, he didn’t have exactly an outstanding story. And he was with us on that suicide mission.” 

“And now is in charge of the WSO side of the program. He was good. Someone saw potential.” Javy adds, nodding at Payback’s words. 

For a moment, it looked like their words were going to convince Mickey, to actually get rid of that uneasy feeling that the wizzo had been feeling since the day he heard the rumours of the president’s daughter being a student at Top Gun. 

But when President Joanne Miller herself appeared inside his class ten seconds later, he realized that he was right. He had to trust his hunch. 

Hawk Miller not only meant trouble. 

She was a walking disaster. 

@purplevortexx

@novastories

@daughterofautumn

[acourtofquietdreamers]

Small moments of seeing, noticing, listening, reaching out a hand…

A faint smile bloomed upon Azriel’s mouth as he noticed Elain’s fingers white-knuckled on that fork, but he kept silent,

Elain said to Azriel, perhaps the only two civilized ones here, “Can you truly fly?” He set down his fork, blinking. I might have even called him self-conscious.

and Elain, noticing Azriel’s ease as proof that things weren’t indeed about to go badly, offered one of her own as well.

He set her down gently on the foyer carpet, having carried her in through the front door. Elain peered up at his patient, solemn face.

Azriel smiled faintly. “Would you like me to show you the garden?”

I couldn’t tell if she was looking at his blue Siphon or at his scarred skin beneath as she breathed, “Beautiful.”

“I didn’t hear you.” Azriel stepped forward. “But you heard something else.”

“What did you see,” Azriel said, and I tried not to flinch as I found him at my other side, not having seen him move. Again. Elain paused halfway up the stairs. Slowly, she turned to look back at him.

Azriel’s hazel eyes churned as he studied my sister, her too-thin body. And without a word, he winnowed away.

The two Illyrians paused their inspection of me long enough to note my sisters finishing up breakfast, Nesta in a pale gray gown that brought out the steel in her eyes, Elain in dusty pink. Both males went a bit still.

“I can help her,” said Azriel, stepping to the table as Elain silently rose. No shadows at his ear, no darkness ringing his fingers as he extended a hand.

Nesta monitored him like a hawk, but kept silent as Elain took his hand, and out they went.

But Azriel asked softly, taking a single step over the threshold and into the sitting room, “What other?” Elain’s brows twitched toward each other.

“She doesn’t need anything,” Azriel answered without so much as looking at Lucien. Elain was staring at the spymaster now—unblinkingly.

“We’re the ones who need …” Azriel trailed off. “A seer,” he said, more to himself than us. “The Cauldron made you a seer.”

It made sense, I supposed, that Azriel alone had listened to her. The male who heard things others could not … Perhaps he, too, had suffered as Elain had before he understood what gift he possessed.

while shadows gathered around Azriel, Elain at his side, wide-eyed at the spymaster’s display.

Then Azriel, gently taking Elain’s hand in his own, as if afraid his scars would hurt her.

But Azriel asked softly, “What about Elain?”

From the shadows near the entrance to the tent, Azriel said, as if in answer to some unspoken debate, “I’m getting her back.”

Azriel gently removed the gag from her mouth. “Are you hurt?” She shook her head, devouring the sight of him as if not quite believing it. “You came for me.”

Azriel scooped up Elain, looping her bound arms around his neck. “Hold tight,” he ordered her, “and don’t make a sound.”

Azriel’s roar echoed off the rocks as the hound slammed into him, dragging those shredding talons down his spine, his wings—The girl screamed, but Elain moved…my sister sent a fierce kick into the beast’s face. Its eye. Another. Another.

Azriel still cradling Elain to his chest. He dripped blood behind him the entire time—

Azriel rasped, swaying on his feet, “We need Helion to get these chains off her.” Yet Elain didn’t seem to notice them as she rose up on her toes and kissed the shadowsinger’s cheek.

Azriel, still limping, merely nudged aside Cassian and extended another option. “This is Truth-Teller,” he told her softly. “I won’t be using it today—so I want you to.”

He gently took her hand and pressed the hilt of the legendary blade into it. “It will serve you well.”

I have never once seen Azriel let another person touch that knife. Elain looked up at Azriel, their eyes meeting, his hand still lingering on the hilt of the blade.

Azriel strode to the lone window at the end of the room and peered into the garden below.

“He is Elain’s mate.” I waited. “It would be an invasion of her privacy to track him.”

Az ran a hand through his dark hair. “Are we…” Unusual for him to stumble with words. “Are we supposed to get the sisters presents?”

Azriel emerged from the sitting room…I felt, more than saw, my sister go still as he approached. Her throat bobbed.

in time to see Elain say to Azriel, “Hello.” Az said nothing. No, he just moved toward her.

But Azriel only took Elain’s heavy dish of potatoes from her hands, his voice soft as night as he said, “Sit. I’ll take care of it.”

Azriel’s scarred fingers wrapped around his wrist. “Wait,” Azriel said, nothing but command in his voice…“Wait until everyone is seated before eating.”

and Azriel…It was pity on his beautiful face. Pity and sorrow as he watched my sister.

“I’d feel bad for the mice,” Azriel muttered. Mor and Cassian howled, earning a blush from Azriel and a grateful smile from Elain—

I found Elain studying it, beautiful in her amethyst-colored gown. I made to move toward her, but someone beat me to it.

Especially as he gently said to my sister, “Happy Solstice.” Elain turned from the snow falling in the darkness beyond and smiled slightly.

The shadowsinger’s brows lifted, but his scarred hand extended to take the present. Elain turned from where she’d been speaking to Nesta. “Oh, that’s from me.”

Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. “It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often.”…Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed. I’d never heard such a sound, deep and joyous.

Elain smiled again, ducking her head. Azriel mastered himself enough to say, “Thank you.” I’d never seen his hazel eyes so bright, the hues of green amid the brown and gray like veins of emerald. “This will be invaluable.”

Azriel and Elain remained in the sitting room, my sister showing him the plans she’d sketched to expand the garden in the back of the town house, using the seeds and tools my family had given her tonight. Whether he cared about such things, I had no idea.

“Because of the shit with Elain?” Azriel stilled. “What happened to Elain?”

Azriel stiffened. “I know. I helped rescue Elain, after all.” Az hadn’t so much as hesitated before going into the heart of Hybern’s war-camp.

“Like you two,” she said, nodding to Cassian, and then, a bit more shyly, to Azriel. Azriel offered her a small smile that Elain quickly looked away from.”

Nesta saw the blow land, like a physical impact, in Elain’s face, her posture. No one spoke, though shadows gathered in the corners of the room, like snakes preparing to strike.

where Azriel stood in the doorway, monitoring them. As if he’d heard Elain’s sharp laugh and wondered what had caused it.

Then his gaze shifted to Elain, and though it was utterly neutral, something charged went through it. Between them. Elain’s breath caught slightly, and she gave him a shallow nod of greeting before brushing past, leading Nesta into the room.

Soft steps padded from under the stair archway, and there she was. The faelights gilded Elain's unbound hair, making her glow like the sun at dawn. She halted, her breath catching in her throat.

“I..." He watched her swallow. She clutched a small gift in her hands. "I was coming to leave this on your pile of presents. I forgot to give it to you earlier."

Lie. Well, the second part was a lie. He didn't need his shadows to read her tone, the slight tightening of her face.

Elain closed the distance, and her breathing quickened as she again paused, now a scant foot away. She extended the wrapped gift, her hand shaking. "Here."

But she'd gotten Azriel one last year -- a headache powder he kept on his nightstand at the House of Wind. Not to use, but just to look at. Which he'd done every night he’d slept there.

Two small, bean-shaped fabric blobs lay within. Elain murmured, "You put them in your ears, and they block any sound. With Nesta and Cassian living there with you..." He chuckled, unable to suppress the impulse.

Elain’s mouth twitched into a smile. "Nesta wouldn't appreciate the joke.” He offered her a smile back.

Because her mate had been in the family room and Azriel had needed to stay by the door the whole time because he couldn't stand the sight of it, the scent of their mating bond, and needed to have the option of leaving if it became too much.

Elain's large brown eyes flickered, well aware of all that. Just as he knew she was well aware of why Azriel so rarely came to family dinners these days.

Azriel let his shadows whisk away the box as she said softly, "Put it on me?"

Azriel's fingers lingered at her nape, atop the first knob of her spine. Slowly, Elain pivoted into his touch. Until his palm lay flat against her neck.

"I should go," Elain said, but made no move to leave. "Yes," he said, his thumb sweeping in long strokes along the side of her throat.

But Azriel just stroked her neck again. Elain shuddered, drifting closer.

“Yes" Elain breathed, like she read the decision. Just this taste in the dead of the longest night of the year, where only the Mother might witness them.

Azriel's hand slid up her neck, burying in her thick hair. Tilting her face the way he wanted it. Elain's mouth parted slightly, her eyes scanning his before fluttering shut.

Offer and permission.

Notice the way Elain and Azriel’s interactions are mutual and not at all one sided. Imagine reading these interactions and calling this pairing toxic and unhealthy. Being willfully blind will only lead to disappointment.

No other potential ship has this amount of meticulous planning and such a sturdy foundation set up for their relationship. Sarah put so much care and love into Elain and Azriel’s interactions and it won’t be for nothing. Their love story will be unmatched 💖

[eggoatt]

i want to share two of my most favorite seasonally appropriate youtube videos

a normal creepypasta retrospective by hazel and Noone Can Find This "Creepy Dinosaur" Game... by Sagan Hawkes

these two videos share a theme, but i won't spoil what it is. i think these are some really fun pieces of art and i want to spread the word about them because i found them really gripping.

*as a note: while putting videos on in the background is perfectly valid, i would highly recommend at least occasionally glancing at these in particular. they have more effort put into their visuals than usual

[warning-boredom-causes-daydreams]

Ive been thinking recently on the fact that all of the 7 (+Nico and Reyna), have like somewhat uncommon names? Except Jason and Frank...

Perseus (obviously not common for a teenager from New York)

Annabeth also not a typical name, it would probably be more common if it was separate like Anna-Beth

Piper is a normal name but not super common

Hazel also not super common

Nico definitely not common (especially if it is short for Nicholas, because its not a common nickname in recent years, although he isnt from recent years so 🤷‍♀️)

Reyna also not terribly common

Leo (ive seen people say its short for Leonidas but i dont think we have proof of that) so its probably the most common but its still probably not the first name you'd think of if someone said to think of a name. Even if you said L names, I think Luke or Liam would be more frequent. And even if it is pretty common, I wouldn't consider it basic or anything.

They all have normal but somewhat uncommon names that seem to match in a way

And then we have Jason and Frank...

Like the most basic names ever (no offense to all the Jasons and Franks out there) but like...even Jasons sister has an uncommon name, and its pronounced even less commonly, and then Jason is just Jason and Frank...honestly Ive always wondered why Rick chose Frank as his name...

I just find it interesting, like why all the uncommon interesting names, and then Jason and Frank?

Again, absolutely no hate, I love them both, I just think about it sometimes. Like when a family has a bunch of really strange names like Griffin and Phoenix and Hawk and then Ben or something completely normal...like why?

I guess it makes them more realistic? If a name is super common and there are that many characters it would probably be strange to not have anyone with them 🤷‍♀️.

Anyway, thats an explosion of my random thought for the day.

[the-only-mickeypoo]

A Little Motivation

summary: Max learns that his tenant is going on a business trip for her job. This saddens him, as seeing her every day gives him the motivation to work on renovations. Now, he has to find another way to cope with his desperation to see her.

characters: Max Sonnen, F!Reader, August

cw: nsfw!! smutty and freaky as fuck el em eff ay oh! some obsessive behavior, but hey, it's max.

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/57790891

Max knew he was a sick, sick man. Even with his self-awareness, he couldn’t stop himself - especially with this new tenant around. She wasn’t a woman he’d previously seeked out, she had found her way to his building out of pure coincidence. The moment she walked into the apartment asking if it was the one in the ad he put out, he was hooked. He’d felt this way with people before, but never this intensely. He’d find himself thinking of her at every moment - she even showed up in his dreams. He couldn’t escape her, no matter what he did. His grandfather, August, could sense this. He knew Max, he knew how his mind worked, or at least he thought he did. When Max got like this, he’d let him know he hated it.

“You’re a weak man, just like your father.” He’d say. Next, Max would be met with a slap to the face. All Max could do was take it. Even though August thought he was helping Max this way by making him into a man, Max would just hide away inside of the walls of the building to escape.

Max had built himself a sanctuary of sorts, one where he could act out on his urges. Every day, when he got the chance, he’d walk from room to room, watching his tenant like a hawk. His dark hazel eyes would peer through the openings he’d made as his tenant got ready, cooked, slept, bathed… Those last two were his favorite. Seeing her so vulnerable was a huge turn-on. Whenever he’d watch, he’d always end up masturbating to the sight of her. Her body looked like it was sculpted to perfection. He’d picture himself in the room with her, taking her in her most vulnerable of moments. He’d have to stay quiet so she didn’t find out about his sick obsession. He couldn’t be found out, though the idea of being caught turned him on a bit… just a tiny bit.

Max would continue to do this for God knows how many days, but it all came to a halt when he found out his tenant was going on an overnight business trip across the city. It was morning when she bumped into him outside of her apartment. “Oh, hi, Max!”

Her sweet voice was music to his ears. He put on his best charming smile. “Hey!” He looked towards her suitcase. “What’s that for?”

“Oh,” The tenant started with a little laugh. “I’m going across the city on a trip for work. I was gonna let you know since I know you like to say hi to me when you come in to work on my apartment.”

Max’s heart dropped. His smile faltered a little. “Oh, well, I… hope you have fun.” He nodded as he spoke. Outside, he looked charming and happy. On the inside was a completely different story. How would he be able to go about his day without her? 

“Thanks.” The tenant smiled at him before noticing her taxi was outside. “Oh, there’s my ride. I have to go!” She started to walk away. She waved to Max as she walked away. “Bye!”

“Bye.” 

This wasn’t good. This really wasn’t good. As Max put on his glasses, his mind was racing. What would he do without her? Seriously, what would he do? The door of her apartment was already open so he could go in to work on it, but he knew he couldn’t start just yet. Her being there was his motivation to work. He had to get just a little bit of her. 

Max closed the door behind him and he found his way through her apartment, looking at pictures she had of herself and admiring all of her features. He took one with him as he went to her bedroom. He stared at her bed and walked over to it. He took a glance at the picture before placing it on the nightstand. He felt his breaths get shakier as he crawled onto the bed. His hands clutched the sheets and he brought them up to his nose. He moaned quietly as her scent filled his nose and lingered there. “Absolutely divine.” He spoke out loud, his voice husky and soft. His eyes fluttered shut as he took another sniff, letting out a drawn out groan as he did. 

Pulling away with a gasp, Max’s eyes opened and looked downward. Her scent had gotten him riled up. Too riled up. He moved to undo his belt but hesitated. What if she came back because she forgot something, or someone else came in and saw him there? Those thoughts quickly went away, as his hands went against his brain and started to unbuckle his belt. As he closed his eyes and tilted his head back, he realized there was no going back. He had to do this. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be able to function today. That would raise questions with the tenant.

Max frantically unbuckled his belt and pulled it off. He threw it to the side and pulled his jeans down to his ankles. His breathing grew heavy as he swallowed and pulled his boxers down as well, freeing himself. He let out a sigh of relief and wrapped his hand around his dick. He brought the sheets up to his nose again and started to stroke himself while taking in her scent, his eyes rolling into the back of his head before fluttering shut. His groans were feral and desperate. His hips bucked forward, his body clearly wanted more than just his hand. His jaw tightened and he opened his eyes, looking through lust-clouded eyes for something he could grind on. His eyes fell on a pillow and he stopped moving his hand. His other hand reached out to touch the pillow and he exhaled as he felt how soft it was. It reminded him of his tenant’s soft skin that he’d “accidentally” brush against when they interacted sometimes. He needed something… this pillow would be perfect.

Max’s hand went from lightly caressing the pillow to gripping it and bringing it towards himself. He leaned over it and brought his lips, closing his eyes as he pictured the tenant’s lips against his. He was basically full on making out with a damn pillow. He shifted his position, getting on top and pressing his dick against the pillow. The feeling of the pillow alone got beads of pre-cum dripping from him. He opened his eyes halfway and pulled away, breathing heavily. He looked up from the pillow towards the picture he left on the nightstand. He grabbed it and put it on top of the pillow. He made sure it was in a good spot before he took some time to stare down at it. 

The picture was taken by a coworker of hers in her office. She was laughing, smiling the most beautiful smile he had ever seen. “My darling…” Max muttered as he stroked the frame of the picture, “My damn angel.” He pressed his lips against the picture itself, keeping his eyes semi-open so he could admire the business attire she wore in the picture. He pulled away and kept his head down so he could stare at the picture.

In Max’s mind, he was on top of his tenant, making love to her. Her soft skin was up against his. He held the sides of the pillow and started rocking his hips back and forth. Her name fell from his lips, his eyes staring at the picture, unblinking. He pictured her underneath him, smiling at him and telling him how much of a good boy he was. This made him move faster, his groans getting louder. His glasses were starting to fall off a little, but he couldn’t care less. All he was focused on was getting himself to cum.

At a certain point, Max couldn’t keep his eyes open any longer and he screwed them shut. His brow started to furrow and he tilted his head back, letting out a higher-pitched moan. More and more of those moans came out of him until they became soft and breathy whimpers. Though he tried to compose himself, he couldn’t. He was turning into a mess. He was whimpering, precum spilling from the tip of his dick and sweat forming on his forehead. His hands gripped the sides of the pillow and he let out a strained noise of pleasure. He was about to fucking lose it, and he was in too deep to even realize.

It wasn’t until his hips started to move out of the rhythm he had set and his dick started to throb that Max noticed. He couldn't fucking stop. He looked down at the picture one more time, whimpering his tenant’s name over and over like a damn prayer. The whimpers got progressively louder until Max thrusted one last time, pushing him completely into a state of ecstasy. He threw his head back and groaned loudly as ropes of his cum came out, most of it landing right on the picture he was looking at.

Max’s chest rose and fell quickly as he attempted to catch his breath. He was sweating, his hair and glasses were out of place. As he attempted to straighten himself out, he looked downwards and noticed that his cum had gotten on her precious photo.

His heart dropped. He cursed under his breath,  “Goddammit…!” How was he gonna clean this mess up? He was not in the right state of mind to make any rational decision. He was panicking. Nothing was coming to mind on what to do! His brain was completely blank due to the previous orgasm as well as his anxiety. He couldn’t think, so in a panic, he grabbed the picture and stared at it for a solid few seconds.

“... I’m so sorry.” Max whispered before he started to lick his own release off of the picture. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, baby, I’m sorry…” He whimpered in shame, “I’ve gotten your pretty face so dirty…”

Max continued to voice his regret and lick all of his release off of the picture. In his panic, he seriously couldn't do anything else. He let out soft noises as he licked the picture clean. He smiled as he could finally see her face again, all clean and pretty. He was thinking of washing the picture off and putting it back, but the more he looked at it, the urge to just take it and use it when he needed to just got stronger. As usual, his instincts took over and he decided to take the picture with him. He quickly redressed and straightened himself out, letting out a sigh of relief. Now that was finally over, he could get back to what he originally came into this apartment to do.

Max took the picture and stared down at it - he had a plan in his mind. He’d keep the picture around him all day so he’d be motivated to work, and he would take it back with him to his own room and keep it there. One question popped up in his mind. Surely she’d notice the picture was gone. If she asked where it was, how would he answer? 

He could just lie. He’d lied to her before. He always got away with it. He just had to keep his act up. 

Max straightened the bed out so it didn’t look like anyone was there. He made sure to make it look extra nice so his tenant could return to a neat apartment. Then, he’d receive praise from her for taking such good care of her place while she was gone. That’s all he wanted from her, some positive attention. He was sure he’d get it with the way he tidied up her bedroom. As he stepped back and took a look, he concluded that it was perfect. It was time for him to get to work.

Max grunted as he stretched. He let out a sigh and turned towards the exit of the room. He stepped out and looked back at the room, taking one last look before he determined it looked as if no one had done something sick in there. Max was very careful with covering his tracks, as he’d been doing this for a while. He stood there for a few seconds before finally being able to say it looked normal.

Max looked ahead and closed the door behind him. As he walked away, he just told himself…

“All that was was a little motivation. You’ll get away with this. You’ll lie, and she’ll believe you.”

And that was all he needed. Max grabbed his toolbox he had set down earlier and took a deep breath. He had a long day ahead of him - and he was going to get through it. He just had to tell himself: 

“You’ll get away with this.”