#because this is fucking emphasized in right wing circles!

[hyperlexichypatia]

I am begging people giving U.S. politics commentary to have, just, a basic, basic, 6th grade citizenship class level of understanding of the relationship between the branches of government. Please. You will not get icky electoralism cooties if you learn that "Whoever is the president right now is responsible for decisions the supreme court hands down right now" is nonsense.

[degenderates]

ok fuck it. ranking covers of a home at the end of the world by michael cunningham because guys some of these covers slap and some of them are the ugliest shit i've ever seen. this is the kind of post i would have used to make back in my tiktok days but there's no way im opening that app by my own will again. so mutuals read this post.

last place/ugliest cover first.

the stock photo. literally what is going on here. the font is practically unreadable and makes no sense. the image itself looks like someone pulled it right off shutterstock. its giving my middle school vsco account. why are there three women on the front? the story is primarily about two guys and one girl. i mean there is a second female pov but she's not part of the polycule. font is clean but ugly. bye.

the movie poster one. i have so much beef with this cover, even as a movie poster. they literally took three screenshots of the movie and overlayed them into a weird collage type thingy. why is colin farrell standing like that?? why is the character jonathan in the back?? it's giving disney channel. it's giving early 00s--in a bad way. no rights at all. 🍅🍅🍅

the perks of being a wallflower one. i guess there was a craze for late 90s books to have typewriter font in the middle of a minimalistic cover?? i hate minimalistic, abstract covers. you could choose to tell us something about the book but no. here is an orange circle and a black circle. okay.

the modern cover (i assume). i like the watercolor and how it's not too busy but there's still a discernable image (unlike a CERTAIN cover i just discussed...🙄). the font kind of fucks up the whole thing though. it doesn't match the vibes of the book at all. it's very new-adult-romance and just feels off. because yeah technically the book is about new adults and their relationship drama but it's not this...cute.

the uk cover (?). the quality of this image sucks but i literally could only find it on abebooks.co.uk so. it's not bad, just really busy. the font has a shadow so it can be readable but that makes it feel even more cluttered. i like how the angel statue makes an appearance, but all the colors and how bright it is just makes it feel like a little too much.

the color burned one. honestly while i like the vibes i'm not quite sure who this lady is supposed to be. that looks like a wing so she's probably the white angel statue, but she looks too human. and angels aren't different colors like that. i like how this is simple and black, very classy. but ultimately it doesn't really make a lot of sense.

the grey one. this is simple, but nice. it's dark but with light shining behind the house--a nice balance of hardships but also hope, which fits the story. there's a swingset, which makes sense given the story is about growing up, in a sense. and there might have been a swingset at the actual house in the book. can't remember. the font is clean. a little sci-fi/futuristic for my taste but that's alright i guess. this is the cover i have. i guess i should be lucky it's not one of the previous ones but i really wish i had the next one...

the first edition. look it's classy. it's gothic. the angel is there. the sky looks like it could be ohio or nyc. there's powerlines. the font is stylish but not over the top. it's not too bright. it's slaying. one of my favorite things about this cover is how it emphasizes the angel, because the book itself was written around michael cunningham's seminal short story "white angel" which i have talked about a lot on this blog. it also is in a similar pose to the actual angel statue it was based on, the black angel of iowa city (shown below). i'm a fan. i wish i had this cover soooo bad<333

~~~

overall thoughts: most of these covers are kind of shitty lol. this book deserves better</3 if one of y'all live in the US, dont care much about covers, and want a free copy of this book i'll send my copy (the grey cover) to you for free just so i can buy the top ranked one on ebay lol. anyways if u got to the end and found this at all entertaining, tell me so. this was fun to do except when tumblr deleted the whole thing and i had to remake the entire post!!! lol!!!! and y'all should read this book because it's very good and very messy queer and i adore it deeply. <3

[raindownforme]

Hey! I don’t mean to bug but I have another Ted idea in mind, i wanted to send it in before I forgot it.

Basically reader and Ted are sort of rivals and try to out do each other in everything. Reader thinks Ted despises her with all of his snarky/witty comments and the staring he does when they’re in class. The reader is awfully confused when Ted knocks on their bedroom window asking her to sneak out and drive to the next city over and stay with him for the weekend. The reader is even more confused when she finds herself wanting to go and packing a backpack. She/her pronouns (This is a weird one and I completely understand if it’s out of your comfort zone, I just thought it’d be a cool coming of age rivals to lovers story) :)

Mean

Ted Nivison x reader [she/her used]

y/n silently opened the door to the empty classroom. She knew she was late. Everyone knew she was late.

“You’re late.” Ted rummaged his hand around in his backpack, clearly searching for something.

“Gee thanks. I’m excused.” y/n set her bag down in a corner and turned towards the teenage boy. “Why aren’t you out there.”

“Because I get a script.” Ted flashed the stack of papers, waving them smugly before closing his bag. “Where’s your script?”

“Memorized.” She grabbed her water bottle and went onto the stage. She stood silently in the wings, waiting for a familiar cue to be called. Looking over to her left, she watched a group of freshman girls giggling in a circle, quite obviously fawning over Ted. She gestured at them to be quiet, and they did for a moment, but they soon went back to their antics.

“Off-book date isn’t for another three weeks. Little bit of a try-hard are you?”

“Maybe I’m just better.” Ted shifted his weight on his feet. He stood close to her, flipping through the pages in his script. She turned to him, pointing out where they were on the page.

“A know-it-all too then?”

“Forgive me for being nice to you.” She rolled her eyes as she side-stepped away from him.

“Oh never. I’m going to remember this for the rest of your life. How you just had to know what page it is.”

“Jesus. Fuck off would you?” y/n left Ted backstage, entering the ongoing scene with open arms.

———

The stage was quiet. By now everything was winding down. Underclassmen were waiting for their rides while upperclassmen discussed where to go for dinner. Techies were shutting down all the set pieces and electronics. Actors were putting away supplies. y/n was standing center stage. The soundtrack echoed through her head she hummed, pivoting on her feet. Today they had gone over some major choreography for the show, and she knew it better to practice now rather than forget later.

She ended her choreography, spinning with her arms upwards. She then let them fall down to her side, relaxing her entire body in the process.

“Need some help there?” Ted’s voice echoed through the almost empty space. y/n groaned, not turning to him.

“I’m doing just fine. Thanks.” She walked to the edge of stage right, grabbing her water bottle and bag from where it resided. “Don’t you have a curfew?”

“Don’t you?” Ted watched her walk upstage towards the green room. “I think you’re finally nailing that box step. I mean, it’s been what, three years?”

“I’ll see you tomorrow Ted.”

“Oh don’t leave me hanging.” Ted followed after her, walking all the way to the door that lead outside of the school. “You giving up already?"

She turned back to him, holding the door open with one hand. “I’m not in the mood tonight, Ted, so good night.” y/n slammed the school door shut, leaving Ted alone in the echoing hallway.

———

y/n was still awake. She’d been up for a while now, going over her musical score, making sure every note change and accidental was circled. There were countless pages it seemed, her being cast as a main character, but it was nearing three AM and she was finally done.

She shut her script, stretching her shoulders as she stood from the desk chair. She meant to reach upwards to dim her lamp light, but paused as she heard a knock on her window. y/n thought it was a fluke, a tree scratching at the wall, but then it happened again. Three times in succession, definitely intentional.

y/n threw open the blinds. In the window she could see a lone stick being held up by a very short Ted.

“Hello?” She opened the window, poking out her head. Ted was indeed there. Her window stood six feet above the ground outside, and Ted’s extreme height poked just above that.

“Hey!” He smiled, which she found almost unusual, but she liked it. He dropped the stick he had been holding and looked up to her. She took note of the fact that he was fully dressed, even though it was an early Saturday morning. She could smell the dew in the air and the cologne on the hoodie Ted wore. She revelled in it for a moment, allowing herself only that moment. “I didn’t catch you at a bad time did I?”

“N-No. I mean, I wasn’t doing much. How do you know where I live?”

“Come with me. Right now.”

“Where?” y/n drew back a bit, confused by Ted’s sudden change of pace.

“The waterfront. Downtown. Please?”

“Ted I-“ y/n looked back into her room. She could pack a quick bag if she really wanted to. She could be gone and back at any time if she really wanted to. “Why?”

“Because. I want to go and you’re who I want to go with me.” Ted extended his hand towards her. “I’m parked across the street.”

y/n sighed, closing her eyes for a second. “Give me two minutes.” She turned back into her room, almost panicking. She threw on a pair of sweat pants and her sneakers, keeping on her comfortable t-shirt. She grabbed an empty backpack and began stuffing it with an extra pair of clothes, a phone charger, her house keys, and travel toiletries. She turned back to her window. Ted stood there expectantly. She tossed the bag to him, and he caught it with ease, throwing it over his shoulder. Next our the window was her, which didn’t come as easy. She started by sitting on the ledge, swinging her legs as she looked at the jump. Thankfully, on her way down, she landed on her feet in the grass. Ted smiled at her, leading the way to his car.

y/n shut the door after herself, inhaling the cold morning air. “We could go to the greenway. I mean the carousel won’t be open but everything else."

y/n nodded as Ted started up his car. It hummed as they drove through the neighborhoods and the freeway, landing them in the middle of downtown. She gazed out the window at the tall cement offices and shops. Ted took her down a series of main roads that gradually became smaller. y/n turned to him, watching the street lights reflect on his glasses.

“Ted, where are we going?”

“The water front! We’ll be there in a second.” Ted followed the paved roads a few minutes longer until pulling aside near a park. “Come on."

Ted hopped out of the truck, not walking towards the meter to pay for parking. He went to open y/n’s door for her, startling the girl. The two walked for a moment, ending up at a rail that over looked the river. “Ted this is-“

“Is there something wrong?” The street lamps danced in the waves of the harbor as they lapped against the brick retaining wall. She looked up to Ted and could see the lights reflect in the lenses of his glasses. Behind that, she could see the worry laced across his face.

“No. I just- I thought you hated me, and this? This is not hateful.”

“Oh.” Ted rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly. y/n didn’t notice, instead focusing on not shivering. “Are you cold?”

“I mean yeah. Aren’t you?”

“No but- here take it.” He pulled off his hoodie to drape over y/n’s shoulders. She slowly put on the item, taking in the way it fit just loosely enough.

“Thanks. For not- y’a know- bein’ an asshole.”

“Right.” The silence between the two was uncomfortable as they stared out into the water. “I should’ve been nicer to you. Just- in general. I should’ve.”

“I could’ve been nicer to you, too. I mean, where’s the fun in that though?” She smiled, leaning over the railing of the waterfront. She let herself dangle for a moment, smiling as came back up.

“I could keep being nice to you.” Ted moved a step closer to her, the darkness barely hiding the blush growing across his face.

“Why?”

“I like being nice to you. I like-“ Ted paused, considering what he was trying to say. “Do you hate me?”

y/n whipped her head to the side, looking confusedly at Ted. “No. Ted I never hated you. I thought you hated me!”

“No never I-“ he sucked in a shaky breath. “I like you. A lot. Like, a lot. And I’m sorry I never told you I just- it was so easy to act like you didn’t like me and that you hated me but I- I’m sorry.”

y/n took Ted’s hand in hers, lacing their fingers together. “I wanted to hate you. I really did.”

“I mean, I’m glad you don’t because really like you. Like I can’t emphasize it enough.”

“We’ll good cause I like you too.”

“Really? No wait really?” Ted turned away form the water towards her, a smile almost splitting his face in half. “Can I-“

“Yes.” She placed her hands on his cheeks as he wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her close. Ted kissed her almost roughly, pulling her closer every second. y/n smiled against him, feeling his glasses ouch against her eyebrows and the way his cheek molded against her hand.

Ted pulled away slightly, taking a quick breath. “Wow. That was- wow. You’re- wow.”

y/n laughed. “You got words there?”

“Whatever smart-ass.” He went to kiss her again, this one being shorter. “Where to next?”

“Anywhere.” She smiled, looking back towards the sleeping city beside them. “Take me anywhere.”

[gwynrielsupremacist]

CONSTELATIONS

Read at AO3

The sound of the Shadowsinger’s heavy breaths plus the splashing from the bathroom echoed throughout the room

Azriel was fucked.

But really, really fucked.

His hands felt sweaty against the cool and soft fabric of his bedsheets, undone after so many times he had shifted his position while he waited for his mate to leave the bathroom and go into bed with him.

They had discovered that they were mates a few weeks ago, and they had agreed to take things easy.

But, the progress that was to occur that night, it overwhelm him

He raised his body, supporting his elbow and extending his muscled neck, trying to see if Gwyn would appear through the doorway.

He still didn’t believe that such a female, that priestess, was his mate.

He still didn’t believe his feelings were reciprocal.

Seeing she wouldn’t show up yet, he flopped onto the bed, running the back of his hand over his eyes, sighing.

Shadows crawled up his scarred fingers, trying to soothe his nerves, but nothing succeeded. He glanced at the time in the clock that sat on his nightstand. She had been in the bath for 30 minutes.

“Has something happened to her?” He asked.

“She will come, Shadowsinger” The shadows reassured him. “She’s as nervous as you”

He stretched the collar of his nightshirt to catch some air in his lungs. He normally slept shirtless and in simple black shorts that left little to imagination, but he supposed his normal clothing would make the priestess uncomfortable, and he didn’t want to be the reason for her discomfort.

He looked down at his hands, scarred and burned.

“You don’t deserve her. You’re just the bastard of an Illyrian lord”. His insecurities told him.

“That’s a lie, Shadowsinger. She loves you, and you’re worthy of her, as much as she is worthy of you” His shadows answered, attacking his own thoughts.

“You’re a blood-thirsty bastard, when she knows all your secrets, she will run away”.

“Attack those thoughts, Shadowsinger, those thoughts are nothing but your insecurities” They fought back.

“I am worthy of her. She loves me and I love her” Azriel thought, closing the insecurities with a padlock and tearing them outside, destroying it.

He sighted, placing a palm in his heart, noticing how his heartbeat was normalizing.

The shadows started to move, heading to the arc of his wings, settling there and calmly observing their master.

Azriel shifted, lying on his stomach, no longer hearing the sound of his mate splashing in the tub.

It had all started when Gwyn appeared in the training ring, while he was performing his night stretches.

Apparently, she hadn’t been able to sleep and had grown tired of reading the book she, Nesta and Emerie had started to criticize it, and had headed to the training ring to perform dagger exercises, finding Azriel there.

They had started doing combinations of lunges and dagger blocks and when they were both satisfied, thay headed to their room, hand in hand.

She had gone downstairs to the priestesses’ rooms for a moment, looking for a nightgown to sleep in, while he took a quick shower, wiping all the sweat from his body.

When he came out of the bathroom, dressed in his pajamas, Gwyn was already there, looking around the room.

His room wasn’t one of the largest in the House. He believed that Cassian’s was the biggest, with all his gadgets and gadgets he kept there, but his was cozy. He doesn’t need anything else.

Well, maybe a priestess sleeping everynight in his bed, in his arms. He wouldn’t mind.

In one corner was a study with two chairs, next to a three-seater sofá with a tea table in front of it. In the center of the room was where the huge bed was located, next to which were two chests, one with clothes and the other with weapons, in addition to the weapons that were hidden throughout the room.

The moment Gwyn saw him, she ran into the bathroom, and there she is currently.

The sound of footsteps startled him, sitting up and searching with his gaze for the gorgeous priestess, finding her grasping the edge of her nightgown uneasily, in the middle of the bathroom door.

The nightgown was a simple cobalt blue negligeé, with lace at the top, running down her creamy neck to the V of her breasts, ending below her knees.

It was simple, but fucking sexy.

He would already thank Nesta and Emerie for the purchase, because he was sure as hell it had been the choice of those two. He gulped, avoiding thinking of the bulge already forming in his pants.

Azriel smiled at her, tapping the spot next to him, inviting her to sit down next to him.

She smiled back, blushing as she approached the bed, sitting down and smoothing the hem of her nightgown, placing her cheek on the Shadowsinger’s shoulder, revealing part of her whitish neck and the curve of her breasts.

He was very screwed up.

“Are you okay?” Az asked, grabbing her hand and kissing her knuckles.

She nodded, letting herself be carried away by her touch, as she wrapped her hands around her body.

They felt silent, staring at each other while innocent caresses were made.

“Do you want a particular side or…? She asked, laughing quietly as she grabbed his hand and traced the scars on his hand.

“I have no problem” He shrugged, caressing her hand as he pulled her into his body, sitting her on his lap.

Gwyn blushed, realizing where exactly she was sitting, but he brought his legs together, letting her not to be sitting right on top of his cock.

“Thank you” She said as she brought her lips to his cheek, kissing it slowly, then hiding her face in the crook of his neck.

Azriel wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing her cheek and murmuring “No problem” in her ear, then kissing her lobe, earning a shudder from her part.

Suddenly Gwyn raised her head and started looking around the room, her face puzzled.

“Where are your shadows?” She asked, searching the corners to see if they were there.

“Hidden, apparently” He explained.

“We’re here” Answered his shadows. “We didn’t want to trouble our priestess” They said as ribbons of night appeared out of nowhere, approaching the Spymaster’s neck, some of them touching and licking the wrists of the female sitting in his legs.

“According to them, they didn’t want to appear in case you felt uncomfortable with them” He explained, noticing how the shadows hid in the arch of his wings, observing from there the scene between the two lovers.

Gwyn chuckled, reaching out to a shadow, letting it surround her.

“I don’t mind if they’re with us” She admitted, as more shadows joined the already present. “They have never bothered me. In fact, they’re a comforting presence.”

Azriel laughed. A noteworthy laugh, out of the stomach.

“Do you consider my shadows a comforting presence?” A low chuckle came out of him, while he brought his lips to her neck and arranged small kisses in the area.

“Sure” She emphasized, noticing goosebumps on her arm. “Why should your shadows bother me?”

Azriel was silent, preferring to keep kissing her neck.

He noticed how she smiled, lightly grasping his hair, entangling her fingers in the fine strands of his raven hair.

He slid down onto the massive bed, getting Gwyn to straddle his thighs, earning a punch to the arm.

He feigned pain, grabbing his arm and twisting carefully from his wings, while he listened to her laughter and the whisper of the shadows running through their bodies.

“Enough of teasing me!” She yelled, red with embarrassment, as she climbed off his lap and onto her side, ignoring his laughter and attempts to roll her onto her back.

Finally Azriel circled Gwyn’s hips, pulling her closer to him, spooning, entangling their legs under the sheets.

“I’m not making fun of you” He lied, peppering her neck with kisses.

Gwyn turned, looking into his eyes as she teased him.

“Be careful lest I remove your tongue with my teeth” He flirted, earning a blush from her part.

She turned back, ignoring him.

Azriel lowered his gaze from the creamy porcelain skin on her neck to the area where their bodies nearly collided. discovering that the nightgown Gwyn was wearing had risen above her hips, earning a switch toward his cock from the sight of her panties, watching her long legs and thinking how they would feel if they were tangled around his hips as he slammed hard against her-

He noticed that the female in his arms began to tremble, realizing in that moment he had screwed up more than at any other time.

“Gwyn. Gwyn I’m so sorry” He apologized, moving quickly and putting a good few meters between both bodies, noticing the strong smell of arousal that was in the room. “Love, are you okay?”

She nodded, turning to find Azriel staring at her, eyes filled with remorse and concern.

“I’m sorry” She said, wrapping her arms around her body, tears falling from her eyes.

“She’s not angry with you, Master” The shadows commented.

“Who is she mad at then?” He answered them.

“With herself” They replied. “She’s angry for not having control of her body and therefore not being able to be intimate with you.”

He was silent for a moment, thinking about how to tell her what she needed to understand without her freaking out.

He reached out his hand, asking with his gaze for her to grasp it, taking both hands and intertwining them. That was exactly just what she did-

“It’s okay, love” He confirmed hers, soothing her skin with his thumb. “Let’s go at your pace, there’s no need to rush.”

She shook her head, looking at both clasped hands: “What if we can never be intimate because of me… because of my trauma?”

“Then we’ll not have intimacy” He assured her, bringing her knuckles closer and kissing them carefully. “I’m not with you for having sex, I’m with you because I love you. If we can’t have sex, then we won’t have sex.

She nodded slightly, moving closer to her body until they were nose to nose.

“It’s… my body… the problem” She confirmed.

He cocked his head: “Why do you think your body is the problem?

How can she think that her body, her gorgeous body, is the problem?

“Because you have had a multitude of lovers, surely with a better body than me, who will know how to satisfy you better than me” She told him. “I have… scars on the inner part of my thighs and hips and…” She replied while shallowly crying that little by little were falling down their teal eyes. “I have freckles all over my body and…” She couldn’t finish the sentence, preferring to hide her face on his neck while she tried to calm herself down.

He ran his hand across her back, making circles with his fingers to relax her muscles.

“Honey… Of course I have had many lovers, but I have only allowed one of them to know me thoroughly, and that’s you, my love” He replied, kissing the crown of her hair. “I haven’t seen your whole body, but I’m sure it’s just as breathtaking as I imagined it to be.” He murmured. grabbing her hand and kissing it softly. “And why the hell do you think I would hate your freckles?

She sniffed, looking into his eyes as he brought his scarred fingers closer and wiped the tears that fell from her eyes.

“In Sangravah they always compared us… Catrin and me” Gwyn recalled. “They always said Catrin was the beautiful one while I was the… cute one. I always assumed that it was because I had this hair and these stupid freckles.

Azriel had a painful time trying not to rip the head off those who said that to his mate.

“Well, that’s a lie, because you’re fucking beautiful and I love those freeckles”. He recognized as he traced patterns on her cheeks, following their path.

Gwyn began to blush, placing her mouth on the corners of Azriel’s lips, giving him small kisses and then hiding in the hollow of his neck again, leaving kisses there alike, earning a shudder from the male.

“This female is going to be the end of me” He thought, as he arched his neck to give her more room to kiss.

She laughed lightly, looking up, meeting Azriel's gaze locked in her lips.

The atmosphere suddenly was charged with the arousal of both, him and her.

They began to get closer little by little. 

There had been very few occasions that they had kissed on the lips, and the tension of the moment could be cut with scissors.

They kept getting closer until there were only inches left for their lips to collide, breathing in each other's breath.

"Can I… Can I kiss you?"  He asked. Always asking permission, always the safety of his mate first. If she wanted to leave things right then and there, Azriel would be happy just holding her through the night.

Azriel didn't discover that he had been breathless until she nodded, until both lips met in a noteworthy explosion.

It was a simple kiss, Azriel knew he shouldn't push until she decided to, but they were both too tired to deepen the kiss.

Gwyn parted her lips little by little, silently demanding the kiss to be deepened, and Azriel was perfectly willing to make his mate enjoy the experience to the fullest.

He parted his lips, letting both tongues collide shyly, kissing and kissing and kissing until they had to part to breathe.

They both smiled, peaking at each other's lips, until Gwyn dropped onto Azriel's chest, visibly tired and with her eyes almost closed.

"Are we sleepy, Berdara?"  He teased her, kissing the top of her head as she nodded silently, burying her head deeper into his chest, inhaling the scent of cedar and night mist.

"Tomorrow we have training?" She asked him sleepily.

"Yes, we do" He replied, grabbing the sheets that had fallen by the side, leaving them on both bodies "I will wake you up, just sleep now, my love, you have earned it".

She smiled slightly, kissing his neck one last time as her breathing became more and more rhythmic. She had fallen asleep.

In his arms.

She had fallen asleep in his arms.

He smiled slightly, the only person who would allow to see that sensitive part of him.

"Good night, my love" He whispered in her ear, kissing the lobe and falling into the most restful and deep sleep he had in years.

——————————————————————————

Gwyn hadn't slept this well in a long time.

The morning sun filtered through the curtains of his mate's room, illuminating the entire room. She turned her gaze, finding his handsome mate asleep peacefully, with one arm under the pillow and the other resting delicately on her stomach, protectively.

She smiled slightly, her gaze running over the man who shared the bed. His hair was facing everywhere from sleep, her wings curled up behind him, the membranes catching the sun's heat and forming shapes on them. She perceived, not with a little joy and excitement, that part of his shirt had risen, revealing his tanned abs.

She didn't know what time it was, but he was supposed to wake them both up, so she decided to put her head back on his chest, listening to his heartbeat.

She suddenly felt the arm that was on his stomach stretch, as did the other on the pillow.  She had woken him up.

"You look like a cat stretching" She laughed, brushing away the hair that had fallen over his eyes, meeting Azriel's hazel eyes staring at her, clouded with sleep.

He smiled slightly, leaving kisses on her neck, causing shudders throughout her body.

"Let me sleep" He replied with a hoarse and dark voice.

"We have to go to training" She counterattacked, trying to lift his arm that fell under her hands again, without success.

"Five more minutes" He murmured, yawning.

"I can't believe the brooding Spymaster of the Night Court is demanding me five more minutes of sleep" She chuckled, pounding her arm.

He growled, nipping her shoulder playfully.

Gwyn gave up, letting Azriel lightly bite as much of her neck as he wanted.

They did not know how long they stayed in that position, the Shadowsinger kissing and nibbling the priestess's neck and shoulder, while she allowed herself to be done.

Finally he got tired, raising his mouth to meet hers, giving her a kiss.

"Good morning" He whispered between kisses, biting lightly on Gwyn's bottom lip, causing a sensation of heat to settle in the lower part of his stomach.

"Good morning to you too" She replied, stroking Azriel's back, careful not to touch her wings, the shadows nowhere in sight.

Gwyn had already received that talk about Illyrian wings from Nesta and Emerie, who were the first to discover that the two were "together". She knew perfectly well that she shouldn't touch Azriel's wings without his permission.

Suddenly Azriel tensed, and Gwyn feared that she hadn't been careful enough and she had touched something she shouldn't have until a shadow came to view and settled into his ear, telling him something.

The Shadowsinger grabbed the sheets that had moved, covering both bodies at the same moment someone opened the door.

"AZRIEL, GWYN IS NOT IN HER…" Nesta interrupted in the room, almost ripping the door out of her place, Cassian behind her.

But while Nesta's gaze was concerned, Cassian was trying not to laugh at that very moment.

Cassian knew perfectly well why Gwyn was not in her room that night.

"H-Hi" Gwyn greeted, watching her best friend's reaction.

Nesta was speechless, staring at the Spymaster, then Gwyn, and then her mate, realizing why Cassian wasn't the least bit worried.

"You knew it! You knew where Gwyn had been and you made me scared about her safety!"  Nesta screeched, too loud for Gwyn's newly awakened hearing.

"I was imagining where Gwyn might have been," Cassian laughed, casting glances at Azriel, who growled menacingly at Cassian and Nesta, demanding that they immediately leave her room.

"See you at breakfast," Cassian announced, to which he was met with another higher-pitched growl from Azriel, closing the door and leaving both lovers in the room again.

Gwyn began to laugh, to which Azriel looked at her strangely, not understanding why his mate laughed when those two had caught them.

"It was very embarrassing" She said, wiping the tears of laughter from her eyes, getting up from the bed and approaching the leathers that she had brought from her room.

She turned to find Azriel sitting on her bed, staring at her with amusement in his eyes.

"Are you going to stay there all day or are you going to help me train?" To which she earned a crooked smile from her mate, getting up and heading to the bathroom to change clothes.

She left the room to change into another bathroom, meeting Nesta, looking at her with love, as if to say:

"I am proud of you, sister."

TAG LIST: @bookish-isha @imsointobooks @shisingh @feyretale @niaacotar @flora-shadowshine @tealnymph24 @trashforazriel

[rhysismydaddy]

Nesta ties down Cassian so she can give his wings her undivided attention 😉

Nesta stood next to the bed, eyes narrowed, surveying her prey evilly.

If she was going to do this--and she’d decided she was--she’d have to be fast. Really, really fast.

She’d gotten the ropes tied and ready, and all she had to do was snap them over the wrists of her innocent, unsuspecting mate. Seemed easy, except when said mate was a 500 year old Illyrian with the best reflexes she’d ever seen.

Rolling her shoulders back, she carefully avoided the large, membranous wings she’d never gotten her hands on properly and slid herself onto his back.

He was sleeping on his stomach like usual, thick arms wrapped around the pillow like he was holding onto a baby. For a second, her heart squeezed at the sight of such a masculine man being so incredibly soft, but she was on a mission and forced herself to ignore it.

Her thighs bracketed his sides, and she ran her hands through his hair, leaning close.

This, she’d decided, was the only way she could pull this off. He was too quick and strong and fast for her to do it normally, so she had to get close another way. And since it wasn’t exactly unusual for her to wake him up like this, he wouldn’t suspect a thing.

Nesta kissed the shell of her mate’s ear and whispered, “Good morning.”

He gruffed something back, a low, content noise coming out of his throat when she moved to kiss his jaw.

Her hands slid up his arms slowly, and then, when they reached the top of the bed, she moved.

She snapped the ropes over his wrists, yanked them tight, and watched as his Cassian realized he’d been trapped. Remaining surprisingly calm, his eyes snapped open and took in his surroundings, then he tested the strength of his bonds and found them immoveable. 

“Nesta.”

“Yes, Cassian.”

“If you wanted to play, all you had to do was ask. But now I’m trapped on my stomach, with no way for you to get your hands on my-”

She ran a finger over the base of his wing, right next to his shoulder, and every part of him stilled completely.

And then he released a growl that shook the posts of the bed and ignited a fire in her blood. Honestly, it probably should’ve scared her, but all it did was turn her on.

For the first time in the three months they’d been sleeping together, she had complete and total access to his wings. 

Sure, she had to steal it, but she had it. 

Sex with Cassian was great. He was a more than generous lover, and he always left her satisfied and practically boneless. But the one thing he never did, the one thing he silently refused to give her, was his wings. 

Sometimes she’d brush them with her fingers and watch as his eyes went dark, and then she was usually flipped onto her front and not given another opportunity for a long, long while. 

He’d told her once it made him loose control a bit, but that wasn’t the whole truth. It was like it brought out something primal in him, and he was scared for her to see it.

Well, it had been long enough. She was going to touch these goddamn wings, and he was going to lay there and take it like a good little bat. 

She wrapped both hands around the base of his wings, thumbs rubbing softly, and Cassian finally realized what she was doing.

His arms went tight, the ropes groaning but not giving in as he pulled on them with five centuries of strength and rage. “Nesta Archeron, you get your hands off of my wings.”

He emphasized it by cranking his head around to glare at her. Nesta just smiled sweetly and slid her finger over the shell of his wing, watching as his eyes went molten and his hips shifted beneath her. “Is that really what you want?”

He groaned, arms yanking helplessly on the ropes, as she proceeded to touch his other wing. So unfair that he would have such wonderful, large wings and had never allowed her to touch them properly.

Cassian cleared his throat and remembered her question. “No, what I really want is to fuck you so hard you scream and beg for forgiveness for touching my wings uninvited.”

Her core clenched, but Nesta just shrugged. “Maybe later. I’m busy.”

Her hands flat on the membranous material now, she ran them over every inch she could reach, tracing the scars and markers of the hard life he’d lived. He was still watching her, so she smiled at him, then leaned to press her mouth gently to his right wing.

He shifted under her, body jerking harshly.

It was like whatever hold he’d had on himself slipped. He stopped wanting her to stop completely and eyed her with blatant lust in his eyes. 

“Do that again,” he demanded breathlessly. Then, when she raised a brow, he muttered, “Please.”

She obliged him, running her mouth across both his wings until he was squirming so much she almost fell off of him.

Then she pressed her thumbs into the surface and dragged outward, massaging a little of the tension she felt there out.

Cassian bit down on the pillow, eyes squeezed shut tightly, but it didn’t stop her from hearing the low, desperate sound he made.

She didn’t take pity on him, though. She just did it again. His hips were pressed tightly against the bed, arms still pulling on the ropes, a blush across his cheekbones. 

“Nesta, I’m going to come if you don’t stop,” he warned. Or maybe begged.

That sounded like a wonderful idea.

Keeping her fingers lightly tracing circles, she leaned and ran her tongue across one. His eyes shot open to watch as she licked the sensitive surface slowly, then moved to the other. He was breathing like he’d just trained for hours, sweat beading on his forehead.

Still keeping her eyes on his face, Nesta lightly grazed her teeth across the inner corner of a wing, knowing somehow it would do the trick.

“Fucking hell,” he moaned, body going tight as release barreled into him. The ropes groaned as he pulled, but it didn’t seem like he was trying to get free. He pressed his face into the pillow, messy hair spilled everywhere, and completely came apart beneath her. 

Nesta continued to kiss him, mouth finding the smooth band of skin between his wings, until he was limp beneath her.

“You, little vixen, are in so much trouble.” He opened his eyes, lips twitching. “Making me come in my pants like a godsdamned fourteen year old boy. I ought to spank you.”

She just kissed the corner of his mouth and smiled. “Promise?”

___________________________________________

girl when I say I HOLLERED when I saw this prompt because YES. 

[miss-kittys-magical-library]

The Joan Jett Quartet

Word Count: 3500

Warnings: NC-17 BDSM, extreme language, consensual bondage and paddling

A/N: Decided to do a short series of erotic drabbles based around Klaus x Reader during his first year with Destiny's Children. They'll be "Tied" together with "Do You Wanna Touch Me There?"

Tag List: @robertsheehanownsmyass​ @frogs--are--bitches​ @firstpersonnarrator​ @elliethesuperfruitlover​ @rob-private @forenschik @super-unpredictable98 @bisexualnathanyoung @messengeronthemoon @magic-multicolored-miracle

Book 2- Bad Reputation (Klaus x Fem!Reader)**

There was no doubt you had been on a complete power trip after your tryst with Klaus and the table. Smug satisfaction on your lips everytime the two of you passed one another in the mansion. You held your head high while all he did in return was roll his eyes and shake his head, cheeks flush.

The last straw for Klaus was one moment when you passed one another on the stairs. You held your fingers up in a V-shape in front of your mouth, snaking your tongue in and out obscenely. He grabbed you by the wrist and yanked your body flush with his. Your heart raced with desire as those exasperated eyes glared at you.

“You've been telling others our secrets,” his voice low.

“Of course. They're my friends, and they are interested in why The Prophet keeps choosing me to meet behind closed doors. I didn't know it was a secret, ” you grasped his neck with your free hand and tightened so that your nails dug into his skin, “these proclivities.”

There was a sharp intake of breath as Klaus visibly shook under your grip. An erection twitched against your hip and grew the tighter you clutched. Then suddenly lifted your chin upward. His thumb pressed hard into the bone so you could only look him in the eye.

“If I wanted any of them to know what gets me off, I could've asked any number to play with me. I'm pretty fucking sure they'd be better at it, too. Uppity bitch with your uninspired tit fucking. too good for the strap-on unlike Jill and Kitty.”

Your heart fell and pounded in your ears the entire way down. But you remembered yourself and him. How the game could start any time he felt up to it. An unspoken contract the moment you agreed to restrain him and dominate him. This was just payback because you made Klaus human to the other Children.

“It's my turn to play”

Your face was hot with want. There was a wetness between your legs at the thought of it. His lips moved centimeters from yours so you could breathe what he exhaled. Your hips ground into him.

“Bring a blindfold,” Klaus instructed. “I'll bring the paddle”

------

You stood in the living area of Klaus’s wing. You shifted from barefoot to barefoot in a large sweater and your underwear. Your hair twisting and untwisting around a finger without thought. The sleep mask you brought as a blindfold laid out on the arm of the sofa. You shocked yourself that the sight of a paddle, makeshift in haste from a kid’s toy, turned you on.

“Can't say sorry for being late,” The sound of Klaus’s voice made you jump out of your skin. A sly grin spread across his face, “Nervous, doll?”

He stood in front of you now, that long beard gone and his hair wrapped up in a bun. “Couldn't get the fucking thing off. (It was fake) At least that's one secret you've kept.” His hand ran down your arm and waist around to your ass which he rubbed all too briefly.

Now Klaus leaned in to kiss your forehead and cheeks before lifting your chin so that his lips could meet yours. “You totally get that you're one of two people I trust in this room?”

You looked around assuming he meant himself. “Yes.”

“And you get that I've been mostly myself with you.” You nodded an understanding. “Good girl. You definitely fucked that up by gossiping about me, so I have GOT to punish your insolence. Can't have you squawking to the other chickens in the henhouse that the fox enjoys being pecked.”

Klaus laughed at his own metaphor. Not maniacal, in an honest giggle the way he did when he found himself truly humorous. You loved that about him. He could command attention with his “sermons,” but in your bedroom the nights he came to you? He thrived on making you smile.

His face became serious again, “This isn't some master slave bullshit either. I was raised by servants, and trust me it fucking bothers me. Mom, a bit mechanical as she was, managed fine on her own.”

Klaus was lost in thought but shook his head. He made his way behind you and spoke in your ear, “I just like playing with you. You choke me and fuck me while I lose consciousness. I spank you and make you swallow my cum until you learn to keep secrets. And if you're good, I'll fuck you too.”

The breath caught in your throat at how casual he was. How he brought sexual freedom to you and the others. Nothing was too perverse as long as everyone agreed, and you consented to this eagerly.

“Good. Now the safe words,” he fitted the sleep mask down over your eyes, “are Spice Girls.”

“What?” you snickered.

There was a swift open handed slap on your ass that stung beautifully, “Correct response is?”

“Yes, Prophet.”

“I want you to take your sweater off, but as you do stand with your feet slightly apart. Then bend forward.”

The chill in the air caused your skin to goose pimple as soon as your sweater left your body. You complied, unable to tell which direction Klaus was coming from. Your heart raced with excitement.

As you leaned forward, his hand caught you by the throat. The other warm and flat on your back. He ran it over your spine and to your ass which he rubbed before he gave another slap. This time even harder to your delight. When you didn't flinch, he repeated himself. Harder still. Once more before he dipped his hand between your legs and rubbed your sex through your panties.

“I figured you may enjoy the same things I do. Look how wet you already are, and I haven't even used the paddle. And this ass, honestly there's so much to work with. More men should appreciate a thick one.”

The friction of Klaus’s hand picked up as he kept working you through the fabric. Then he withdrew it and that pleasured sting came one more time. Harder. You choked on a moan.

Over the backs of your thighs now and over the hips his hand went. “These hips too. Perfect for when I want to ride you like we're dogs or tease that little asshole.”

That part wasn't really a turn on to you. When Klaus played with you there, unable to switch off how he might please a male lover from a female.

Your thoughts fell away as that roaming hand took hold of your panties and removed them. The hitch in your throat as you felt him tug you forward with the hand on your neck. Klaus massaged your naked sex with the palm of his hand. The heel found your clit and pressed into it before you knew he had pulled back and raised his hand. He brought it down with such force on your bare ass that you lurched forward. It was wet.

“Now you're quiet?” Klaus inquired. “I wonder how long the chicken can go before the fox makes her cluck?”

There was a rush to your head as he righted you. He unhooked your bra and removed that too. Klaus pinched your nipple. Then the other. He traced the erect skin with a fingertip. Your back arched because his body leaned into you. The loose tendrils from his bun splayed across your chest as he bit the top of both of your tits. Still no sound.

“You're tits are, like, the perfect fucking size for how large my hands are,” each word emphasized by a hard squeeze as he roughly kneaded them.

Without warning, Klaus dropped them and dipped his fingers inside you. He pumped them deftly in and out, circling your clit and worked it until you started to pulsate. He drove you just mad enough.

“I can't believe how fucking wet you are. Do I make you cum?” Klaus’s fingers moved quickly and your legs started to shake. “Do I punish you some more?” Fingers out of you, hand on your throat to swing you forward again so he could spank you somehow even harder. Once. Twice.

“Or do I sit and watch you fuck yourself until its time to suck me off?”

Still bent in half, Klaus pushed his fingers deep inside and pumped them again. Assaulted your clit. “No, I'm too hands on.”

Then a white heat filled your core and spread. Your sex constricted around Klaus’s fingers as you came. A loud squeal turned moan echoed off the walls. He held you steady by the neck as he rubbed out a second orgasm and made a tsk tsk sound.

“Guess I've got my answer. More insolence when I wasn't ready for you, and you broke your silence!”

You couldn't even comprehend Klaus’s next move. He stood you up and then bent your arms so your hands were on the back of your head. The position when you're under arrest. You could feel his bare chest against your back, erection just beneath his linen pants in your ass.

Klaus held your hands to your head and stepped away from you. Three swift hits to your ass, “I knew you wouldn't keep quiet long.” Each word again emphasized the rhythm of his punishment.

You took a chance, “Please forgive me, Prophet.” Your body shook with endorphins.

“Debatable. Can’t exactly talk with a mouthful of my cock now can you,” Klaus was still holding your hands above your head. Free hand that spanked you reached around to pinch your nipple another time.

This was the first time you realized he had yet to kiss you. That was so personal. This was.. you weren't sure. But once more thoughts escaped you as he pushed you blindly forward. His hand in your head dug into yours and your hair.

Once your knees came into contact with the soft velvet of a chair, Klaus stopped. He let go of your hands and gestured for you to drop them. He left you momentarily before returning to your side. His hands brought leather around your neck to the front and pulled a bit to tighten it but not the way he can handle. Cold metal against your spine.

“It's a collar and restraints. I get to control just how much of my cock you take in and you won't be able to stop me or help yourself. Next time you'll choke on the gossip like you will me.”

Klaus’s voice was low in your ear. His lips were inches from your skin. Goatee and mustache brushed against your neck as he locked your hands into the cuffs attached to the chain. He knew how that drove you fucking mad and blazed a trail with his chin and lips across your collarbone and shoulder without actually kissing you. Your arms straight down, hands near your ass.

You gasped out loud this time; an insufferable moan left your mouth. The collar tightened when the sound escaped your lips. Klaus laughed. His gin soaked breath filled your nostrils briefly before you were yanked to your knees. His hands twisted up in the back of your head once more and he held it tight while he freed himself from the pants.

Klaus sat down in the chair with his legs spread enough to maneuver you between them. You knew he used his spare hand to hold his stiff cock in place as he tugged your head forward towards it. The tip lost in your cleavage.

“I have to give you credit. Letting me tit fuck you was such a thrill. It's so tight in here, reminds me of your cunt. Then you can swallow my dick until I cum,” there was a shrug to his tone now.

Still he began to thrust his erection back and for in your tits. Klaus’s hips lifted off the chair to connect with your chest. He anchored himself with you and kept going. You could feel the head of his cock hit your neck, slick with his own fluid. He started to growl under his breath the faster he bucked and squirmed. Your sex reacting without thought with a notable swell.

“The tits are so fuckable,” he writhed. Looks like The Prophet had a new favorite type of foreplay.

Suddenly Klaus switched on you. “Open your mouth,” he commanded as your head was wrenched forward.

You complied, and Klaus shoved his cock so deep in your mouth it hit the back of your throat. You gagged momentarily and he cried out in ecstasy. You let your throat do it again.

“Keep doing that,” he pushed you onto him even further if that was possible.

Then Klaus pushed you up and back. His hands forced your mouth to do what it could on its own. You bobbed up and down on the shaft, wrapping your tongue around it on the process. His grip slackened so he could caress you instead.

“Like that. Now lick it and just the head.”

Again you kept repeating the instructions. Your jaw hurt and muscles began to ache, but you knew The Prophet’s cues by now. One more deep-throated constriction and..

Klaus exploded in your mouth. The salty liquid hit you and you swallowed only some. The rest you held knowing what would happen if you spit it out. So the moment he let you sit back, you assumed so he could adjust himself for another round, you turned your head and spit.

“Did you just fucking spit when I told you I was going to make you swallow my cum?” his question bordered on furious. A finger hooked through a loop in the collar and he heaved you up off the floor so you stood. Your body marveled at his strength. Your sex reacted accordingly.

“Just when I thought she knew how to behave, the little chicken showed her true self. Get on the chair and bend over my lap. Ass up, face down on the arm.”

Cautious to hide your eagerness, you did your best with your hands chained. Still you managed and bent over Klaus. The velvet soft under your knees and face resting into it. Your sex pressed against his cock as it stiffened a second time.

There was a brief moment of self confidence that you managed to hide the blindness made you nervous. You had a general idea most of this evening where Klaus was positioned or coming from, but it was that uncertainty that slicked you with wetness. The anticipation of his next move. The ultimate trust in someone who literally fell out of the sky.

Now that move was Klaus leaning over then a sensation of smooth wood on your bare ass. The other hand tangled itself up in the chain along your back. Tightened just a bit so the collar did the same. Another gasp for air and Klaus’s erection poked into you, strained against your pubic hair.

“You broke the rules by spitting,” the paddle came down on your ass several times. “You broke the rules by laughing at me earlier,” words punctuated by the delicious sting at every other word. “And you broke,” this time he took the edge of the paddle and swiped it between your legs. Delved between your folds to hit your clit just right. It wasn't rough, but it was enough so you understood.

“MY TRUST!” now Klaus bellowed. A hard paddle to your ass and the back of your thighs. Had no longer choked the chain. Instead he pinched your nipples alternately as he punished you.

Klaus brought the paddle down harder still several more times. The force of it pushed you down onto his cock. He thrust a bit up at the motion so your hips came together and apart. It was doing something to you besides making your legs go weak. You ached and throbbed in your cunt, longed to be penetrated. It wouldn't come for now.

“I'll give you a chance to apologize,” now Klaus let go of your tits and pulled you by the chain so your back curved. Your face off the arm of the chair. “Turn in my direction when I'm talking!” Paddle collided with your tender skin.

You moved best you could towards Klaus’s chest, “I'm sorry Prophet.”

“For?” Paddle gone, he gripped a handful of your ass and dug in.

Sharp intake of surprise breath. You rolled into his cock. “Gossiping, Prophet.”

“I can't hear you,” open-handed slap. “Red is definitely your color.”

“FOR GOSSIPING, PROPHET!” you cried out loudly.

“Fine,” indifference in his voice, but his cock said otherwise. “My arm is tired. I want you to fuck my thigh.”

You stumbled and nearly fell as you got off the chair. Your legs waived with chemicals from the paddle and prior orgasm. Now you managed towards Klaus’s lap, straddled his leg and sat astride. You situated your cunt on his thigh and started to ride him in earnest.

You found it difficult to balance as you undulated yourself back and forth. Balance off slightly until Klaus held you steady. Helped you rock powerfully into him. The friction and heat from his body drove you insane as you rode with abandon. You were already swollen as you ground as hard and fast as you could. Klaus’s hands, spread out over your back. His fingers ensnared by the chain.

“That cunt of yours is so fucking wet, like you're sliding on ice. Careful your clit doesn't burst just yet,” he teased.

Then without warning an incredible hard crack to the ass and it was too late. You shuddered violently and screamed out as you rolled yourself through the orgasm. Breasts heaved as you struggled to catch your breath.

“I'd be disappointed,” Klaus’s mouth close to your neck and collarbone once more. Facial hair just touched the surface of your skin as he held you down. “But wait until I tell the other Children how she loves being disciplined.”

Then you were on your feet so Klaus could probe you. He played with your clit to elicit another orgasm. That sting of a hand to your skin forced another explosion.

You collapsed into his chest but instead of catching you, he simply started to undo the cuffs and chain. He turned it around expertly and wrapped your hands up around front. Handcuffs locked, forearms together which he tied together and hooked into the collar. Your arms tight to your chest.

“Now get up. You're gonna get fucked.”

Then Klaus did something that both shocked you and turned you on. Where the strength came from you still don't know, but everything about him was otherworldly. The rush of him lifting you off the floor to throw you over his shoulder was powerful. The quick sting of exquisite torture that you just weren't sick of yet followed by that infectious laugh signaled his demeanor changed entirely.

“I can't believe you've fucking kept up,” he tossed you on the bed.

He rolled you face down, cuffs undone and arms forward so he could lock them to a headboard. “There's no one else who could. They can barely manage orgies. Ought to give my sex swing a go next time” Klaus mumbled and climbed up behind you, your hips and ass lifted skyward.

The head of his cock teased the crack of your ass, which he spanked as a reminder. Klaus tested your trust by slipping just a bit inside that space where no one was ever allowed. You cried out but not in pleasure as he tried.

You never thought it would happen, but you just weren't ready. “Um.. Spice Girls?” It was a question muffled by a pillow.

Klaus stopped, “Excuse me?”

“SPICE GIRLS!”

“I thought as much. Can’t ever know till you try to fuck someone’s ass.”

Then wordlessly Klaus plowed into your ever-slick cunt. His hips hit your ass and filled you to the hilt. Over and over he pounded you with a furious speed. Periodically slapping you with such extreme force that the pillow encompassed your face.

“This hot, tight cunt fits my cock so well. Fucking snug and able to take all of me.”

Klaus grabbed your hair and bent your neck back as he kept at it. Welcomed pain deep inside from his cock practically inside your stomach, or so it felt. Suddenly he pulled out and came on your back and ass, warm and sticky all over your raw and bruising skin.

Later: the two of you with arms and legs tangled up together. You snuggled into Klaus’s chest, a sweetness as your mouths meshed. His hands soft as they ran over you after having applied a cooling lotion to your welts and funny enough, bent to kiss them tenderly.

“Next time, Prophet-”

“Klaus.”

“Right,” you smiled. “Next time it's my turn, and I THINK you're gonna get pegged.”

Klaus leapt out of the bed with almost childlike glee. “I'll show you how to wear it.”

[whosaskingwrites]

I Remember (Bokuto x Reader)

A/N: Bokuto is my absolute favorite in Haikyuu so this physically pained me to write. But I personally love this one its my favorite and its told entirely from Akaashi's point of view. Also this one ended up being the longest one so there's that.

WARNINGS: ANGST. Hospital is mentioned so mentions of needles. There's fluffy moments scattered in but do not be fooled it is angst.

Date: Sunday October 25th, 2020

Details: 7 pages 2,518 words

Theme: Hanahaki Disease- The victim begins to have flowers grow in their lungs leading to them coughing up flowers petals this continues getting worse until it causes their death. There's a surgery option to get rid of the flowers but it comes at the price of never feeling love again.

Angst Masterlist

I was twenty three years old when the first petal appeared. It was a pure white rose petal as it sat in my palm. That was the same day I told my best friend Akaashi.

I answered the phone holding it to my ear and before I could say anything Y/n’s voice came through. “Keiji I’m panicking I don’t know what to do and I’m scared-,” I interrupted her talking trying to understand what was happening. “Y/n slow down what’s wrong?” She took a deep shuttering breath as she responded “…I’ve got Hanahaki Disease Keiji,”

I was twenty four years old when I had to be rushed to the hospital during a MSBY game. I was hooked up to machines Akaashi by my side. He held my hand when I cried and admitted the cause of the flowers.

“Keiji I really love him…And I don’t know what to do…,” I sighed looking at her before I spoke “You two have been friends for years im sure you’ll be okay no matter what,” She shook her head eyes wide in fear “Keiji…loving him is different I can’t tell him!”

Bokuto was the reason for those snow white rose petals.

I was twenty four when the first petal appeared. It was a f/f petal clutched in my palm. That was the same day I told my friend Kuroo. 

“Kuroo I’ve got something to tell you,” Kuroo heard Bokuto’s voice over the phone speaking as soon as Kuroo had answered the phone. “Aw are you about to express your undying love for me?” He snickered at his own joke but Bokuto didn’t laugh with him “I’ve got Hanahaki Disease...,” Kuroo took a sharp inhale of breath when Bokuto told him what was wrong. “Oh fuck,”

That same age I was rushed to the hospital during my match. I was hooked up to machines with Kuroo by my side. He sat next to me when I admitted the cause of the flowers.

“Kuroo it hurts. Why does it hurt so much?” Bokuto’s hand was pressed against his heart a fresh trail of blood on his face and trashcan overflowing with f/f petals. “Bokuto…,”Kuroo said staring at his friend feeling sad just watching him. “I love her Kuroo so why does it hurt?” Bokuto looked up then locking eyes with Kuroo and Kuroo gasped as for the first time he saw Bokuto’s normally bright gold eyes were now dull and lifeless.

Y/n was the reason for those f/f petals.

They fell in love with each other at different times. She fell slowly not willing to jeopardize everything they’d have for years. 

“Keiji I can’t tell him! It’d ruin everything even if he felt the same,” She was nervous as I spoke her eyes looking everywhere but my face. “It wouldn’t ruin everything Y/n,” I soothed her rubbing gentle circles in her hand “I can’t risk everyone’s friendships for this,” she whispered finally looking me in the eyes. Her eyes had lost their normal spark and I knew she was missing him.

He fell fast but unwilling to put their relationship on the line.

“Kuroo I’m not telling her,” Bokuto’s arms were crossed over his chest his iv needle jostled slightly causing him to hiss in pain. “Bokuto nothing will change!” Kuroo mirrored the arms crossed position as he looked at Bokuto. “Everything would change!” He threw his hands up trying to emphasize his point.

It was a funny thing though back in high school everyone always assumed they were dating.

“Y/n!” She turned in her spot her eyes catching Bokuto’s “Kota!” she cheered as he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her up in a hug “Aw they’re so cute together,” A first year said while everyone nearby stopped to watch. “There goes Fukurodani’s power couple,” Konoha said from next to me with a chuckle. “I wish I had a relationship like theirs,” Another third year girl said. “We aren’t dating!” Y/n claimed still holding on to Bokuto. Its not like he helped though “Yeah!” He yelled pouting as he rested his chin on top of her head. “Yeah right,” A second year whispered nearby.

Those last few days in the hospital though…Those would stick with them forever.

I walked her to Bokuto’s room she had finally cracked and decided to tell him her feelings. We walked in her holding onto me and she held onto the pole holding her I.V bag. She looked at him he was sitting up in the bed looking no better than she did. 

Both of them looked so tired. With eye bags and skin discoloration everywhere. They both bruised so easily now and were malnourished and dehydrated. Both had been unable to really eat or drink anything since they often threw up flower petals.

Bokuto’s hair was down and messy and I shivered at the depressing aura in the room. She moved forward and nudged his feet to get him to move them. Both of them seemed aware of the other’s fragile states being very soft in their touches. It however was very obvious both of them wanted to hold each other.

She sat when he moved his legs and Kuroo went to stand by me. I noticed he was taking pictures and he smiled when I noticed. “So they remember how dumb they are,” he whispered. She reached forward and took his hands holding them lightly “Bokuto please listen I love you,” He pointed at me then and offered her a shaky smile. “No...You love him Y/n,” he was trying to convince himself she didn’t and she knew that.

“No Kota I love you,” his eyes widened then knowing she was telling him the truth. She never lied to him when she used his nickname. He would have been able to tell if she was lying anyway. For once his gold eyes returned to their normal brightness as he leaned forward.

I remember how they hugged sobs falling past their lips and tears running down their faces.

“Kota I’m so sorry!” her head was buried in his chest as she cried arms wrapped around him. “It’s okay I’m here…and I’m sorry too,” He placed a kiss on top of her head as he whispered his response. I didn’t know why they were apologizing to each other but then again. I didn’t need to know they were happy and that’s what mattered.

I remember how they kissed hushed I love yous falling past their lips and their tears mixing together everytime they kissed.

“I love you so much Y/n,” Bokuto said pressing soft kisses to her face and multiple against her lips. “I love you too Kota…so so much,” she had replied back in-between the kisses. Her hands were in his hair running her fingers through the silver and black strands. “I feel like we shouldn’t be here,” Kuroo whispered to me as we looked at them.

His hand was holding tightly to her hospital gown the other hand was on her hip rubbing small circles into it as she sat on his lap. Their foreheads rested together at this point both of them closed their eyes basking in silence and finally being able to hold eachother.

“Maybe…But they deserve this Kuroo-san,”

I remember her sitting between his legs as they talked about the future. They talked about their future son.

“His name is gonna be Keiji Tetsuro Bokuto!” Bokuto had exclaimed Y/n was leaned back against his chest. His arms around her waist and she was holding his hands. Bokuto would occasionally press kisses to her neck and shoulder blade but it never seemed to bother her.

“Wait wait wait! Why is my name the middle name?” Kuroo asked looking at the pair. “Because Keiji is mine and Bokuto’s best friend,” Y/n responded with a smirk. “So will they be a middle blocker since Y/n chose his first name?” Kuroo asked wanting something besides a middle name. 

“I think he’d make a good setter,” I voiced smirking at Kuroo while he glared at me. “You’re both wrong! He’s gonna be a wing spiker like his father!” Bokuto exclaimed looking at us with a proud smile.

I remember how all four of us argued and how they described how their son would look.

“He’s gonna be 6’1 and just as cheerful as me!” Bokuto said with a smile gold eyes bright as he talked. “I hope he has s/c skin like me,” Y/n said leaning back against Bokuto’s shoulder while he hummed looking at her. “I think he’ll have shiny h/c hair like you!” Bokuto suddenly said looking at Y/n with a bright smile. “Well Kota I think he’ll have big golden eyes just like you,” She said as she turned back to look at him.

A hand hit my shoulder causing me to flinch as I looked away from the paper I was writing. Kuroo stood their a small smile on his face. “Ready to go Akaashi?” He was wearing a dress that barely reached his knees unlike myself where I was in a suit. Normally we didn’t dress up on weekends but this weekend was special.

I remember how Bokuto proposed on his hospital bed a thin silver ring placed on her finger when she accepted.

Bokuto was laying down now Y/n pulled on top of him. His arms were still around her and the sun was setting. Kuroo and I had assumed by the soft breathing that the two of them had fallen asleep. Until Bokuto spoke up breaking the peaceful atmosphere 

“Hey Y/n marry me?” He whispered. She lifted her head up and looked at him her eyes were wide in shock as she spoke.“W-what?” “I want you to marry me,” He said again looking at her with so much affection in his eyes.“Kota I…Of course I’ll marry you,” She whispered kissing him he reached beside him and put a small silver ring on her finger. Sakusa had brought it for him earlier when he asked.

“Can we get married in the spring? The cherry blossoms always look so pretty then,” She requested as she placed her head back on his chest. “Anything for you Y/n,” He whispered burying his nose into her hair.

We reached the hill that the two of them had met on. I always remembered that day too unaware that in a few years we’d be back for a different reason.

“Bokuto-san slow down!” I called watching him run towards a hill. He turned to face me now running backwards his school tie fluttered out behind him and a wide grin was on his face. “I can’t Akaashi! I’ve been sitting still ALL DAY,” He shouted back towards me. I saw behind him a girl with h/c hair walking by seemingly unaware of her surroundings. 

“Bokuto-san watch out!”I called pointing behind him with wide eyes. He turned suddenly but couldn’t slow down in time “Wha-?” He ran into the girl knocking them both down. I winced as I got closer hearing a groan from them. Bokuto sat up suddenly looking at the h/c girl “Ah! I’m so sorry!” He shouted helping her back up. The girl rubbed her head and waved a hand at the apology before speaking. “No um it’s okay really!” 

“Hey what’s your name?” Bokuto had a curious look on his face head tilted to the side. He was staring at the girl with wide gold eyes and yet she didn’t seem bothered by it in the slightest. “Me? Oh I’m L/n Y/n!” She chirped smiling and holding a hand out. “I’m Bokuto Koutarou!” He said matching her smile before he shook her hand. “Nice to meet you Bokuto,”

I sighed as I got there looking at the cherry blossom petals that fell down around us. “Today’s the day huh Bokuto-san and Y/n to of course,” Kuroo came up next to me.

I remembered them talking about the wedding wide smiles on their faces and holding onto each other tightly.

“I think we should have a dog bring the rings!” Bokuto stated throwing his hands up from where the rested on Y/n's back. She scrunched her nose at that. “No Kota the dogs should be the flower girls!” She said back her voice clearly indicating she was tired. Bokuto hummed in thought it must have been pleasant as she burrowed closer to his chest.

“I like that! Can Kuroo be the ring bearer?” Bokuto asked putting his hands back and tracing soft circles into her skin. She sighed in content at the action while Kuroo scoffed. “Wait why me? Why not Akaashi?” He stated with arms crossed “Im Bokuto’s best man that’s why,” I answered the question for them as the fatigue was beginning to wear on them both.

“Yeah and Yukie is my maid of honor! So you can be the ring bearer,” Y/n mumbled from her position. “Can I be a bridesmaid instead? I’ll even wear a dress,” Kuroo called. “Fine but only if you find a replacement ring bearer,” She whispered and I stood “Good night you two,” I said looking at Bokuto and Y/n.

Kuroo got up as well as Bokuto and Y/n whispered a good night. “See you tomorrow,” Bokuto mumbled nuzzling closer to Y/n his eyes barely open as he looked at us. “See you tomorrow,” Kuroo called back. Bokuto’s eyes closed then and he sighed. The last thing we heard before walking out were Bokuto and Y/n talking to each other quietly.

“I love you Kota,” “I love you too Y/n,”

“Sorry we were late there was some traffic!” I turned seeing my old volleyball team and the MSBY team everyone in suits or dresses. Sakusa had a pair of rings in his hand after he was made the ring bearer. Iwaizumi had brought Oikawa, Matsukawa, and Hanamaki. Each of them had a dog with a basket of flowers. “Well let’s get this started then,” Kuroo said as he took his place on Y/n’s side while I moved to Bokuto’s side. 

Two hours later all of us were leaving to go a restaurant. I sighed as we left Bokuto and Y/n behind their rings sparkled in the sunlight. We left them with a bouquet of white roses on Y/n’s side and f/f on Bokuto’s side. I stood for a minute facing the two grey slabs of marble side by side like they deserved and let my final memories of them go as I stared at the photo of them Kuroo had left.

It was of them holding each other with tears running down their cheeks and smiles on their faces. 

I remember how they admitted their love for each other when it was too late to save them. 

I remember them at twenty four leaving the world curled up in each other’s arms unaware that they wouldn’t wake up again but they left knowing one thing.

They knew they loved eachother.

————————————————————————

TAGLIST: @wonhomarshmallow

[maastrash]

41 and 13 please?

Forever Stuck With You 

co written with my bff @verryberriess hope you all enjoy! (ps the prompts were “have you lost your fucking mind” and “I could kiss you right now”)

masterlist // ao3

Rowan Whitehorn couldn’t help but smile as he watched his beautiful wife spin in circles, arms flailing, as she let the sea breeze cool her flushed cheeks. Red-faced, Aelin might have had one too many fruity cocktails from their dinner at the small diner, hidden within Whalers Village. Rowan had wanted to end their Hawaiian honeymoon watching the stars from the beautiful, white-sanded Lahaina beach behind the restaurant, but Aelin just couldn’t seem to sit still. 

Throughout the duration of their dinner, he watched Aelin slowly lose control over her speech and movement. Her words slurred together, eyes becoming heavy-lidded, yet she still seemed so alive. Her voice became louder, movements more dramatic, it was a miracle she hadn’t broken anything. Rowan knew he was starting to feel the effects of the alcohol as well when he couldn’t stop smiling at the utter perfection that was his wife. He lost all sense of time as he watched her smile back at him. He truly admired her so much. She was a ball of energy, his Fireheart. There was nothing else he needed in this life, but her. 

Rowan currently carried a checkered, red and white picnic blanket underneath his arm, along with a fluffy throw blanket he had stolen from their hotel suite. After walking up and down the stretch of the whole beach, Aelin seemed to have finally sobered up. Her gait had steadied and she appeared even-tempered in her movements, no longer stumbling across the loose, powdery sand. 

Content, Rowan set down the picnic blanket and called out to Aelin, “Would my lovely wife care to join me in watching the stars this evening?”

As Rowan made himself comfortable, he glanced in Aelin’s direction. She slowly made her way towards him and settled next to him, her golden blue eyes less clouded as she pressed a feather-light kiss to his cheek before cuddling into his side. Aelin beamed, “I would love nothing more.”

The couple sat together for a few moments enjoying the sounds of the waves crashing against the rocks. They listened to the rhythm of the tides rolling in and out towards the shores, the subtle chirping of field crickets hidden somewhere in the grassy field behind them, and enjoyed the night sky that loomed above them. The contrast between the dark blue, and purple hues compared to the glowing, radiant stars supplemented Aelin’s and Rowan’s awe of the scenery. But of course, Aelin couldn’t sit for long. Soon she was up and dragging Rowan along with her to where the sand met the sea. Holding hands, they walked further into the water. Shallow enough to walk through easily, but deep enough so the waves hit them just below their knees.

They stood in the water, and Aelin wrapped her arms around Rowan’s torso. In response, Rowan pulled her close and breathed in her lemon verbena scent as he held her against him. He could live in this moment forever. Standing in the most beautiful place on earth with the love of his life in his arms, Rowan could not wish for a more perfect memory. 

His thoughts, however, were soon interrupted as Aelin suddenly ripped herself from his grasp and began sprinting full force into the middle of the ocean. Maybe she was not as sober as he had thought. 

He watched as his Fireheart became an absolute menace in the water. Her splashing, coupled with the oncoming waves, led to a completely drenched Aelin stuck in the clothing she had not bothered to take off. “Come out here Buzzard, the water is perfect,” she called, not seeming to mind her current situation.

Rowan laughed at the utter ridiculousness of his wife. Only she would run into the ocean, fully clothed, in the middle of the night. “Have you lost your fucking mind Fireheart,” he laughed softly. “What if a shark eats you?”

“I’d like to see a shark try to take me down,” Aelin countered confidently.

Rowan rolled his eyes but swam out to his wife anyways. While the water had only reached up to his torso, Aelin floated. Aelin wrapped her legs around his waist and secured her arms on his neck. “I could kiss you right now,”  she whispered against his ear. 

“Why don’t you then?” he asked, raising a brow.

“Because then I couldn’t do this.” Before Rowan could react, Aelin had jumped on top of him. She tackled him into the water and quickly leaped off. When he resurfaced, wiping the salt water from his eyes, Rowan witnessed Aelin clutching her sides, barely able to breathe from laughing at his short demise.

Rowan narrowed his eyes and glared at her jokingly, “You’re gonna regret that.” He ran his fingers through his wet hair and tried to appear threatening. He could only imagine how he must have appeared. He had his hands at his hips trying to replicate an imposing stance, but he probably more or less resembled a wet dog. He wouldn’t allow Aelin the satisfaction of his discomfort, despite his inward cringe at the fact that his soaked clothes now stuck to his skin.

“Oh yea,” Aelin teased. “Come and get me.”

Aelin used the momentum of an incoming wave to push her back towards the shore. By the time Rowan made it back to the picnic blanket, Aelin was already eagerly awaiting his arrival. Rowan stood transfixed. She had taken off her wet dress and laid against the blanket only in her undergarments. Her damp hair spread out beneath her and left trails of water around the blanket. Aelin had fixed her arm to hold her head under her palm, lying on her side in order to show off the black and gold, lacy lingerie she had recently purchased. It was a floral lace garter bodysuit, black with gold-accented flowers along the plunging neckline, emphasizing her curves and revealing cleavage. The piece had caught her eye after she remembered Rowan’s deep appreciation for her shimmering golden nightgown. By the look on Rowan’s face, Aelin could tell this was an even greater success than the first. 

She made a mental note to thank the kind shop lady for suggesting her a waterproof fabric. 

“Do you worst,” she winked as he approached. 

Rowan couldn’t stop running his eyes over Aelin. The moonlight illuminated the outlines of her face so perfectly, adding to her already vibrant glow. The dim lighting highlighted her prominent collar bones, he couldn’t help but imagine himself leaning in and burying her with kisses upon kisses from her jaw down to her shoulders. Rowan would be lying if he said he wasn’t tempted to take her right there on the beach, but his need for revenge outweighed his roaring desire. That didn’t mean he couldn’t have a little of his own fun though. 

He slowly stalked towards Aelin, watching her closely to note her any change in facial expression. He took his time, intentionally stalling his steps before he reached her. And when he did so, he slowly crawled on top of her form, putting into practice what he had so vividly imagined earlier. He first started at her jaw, slowly descending his trail of kisses towards her neck to the slight of her shoulders. His wet hair left behind their own path against her skin, marking his every action he took upon.

Rowan glanced at Aelin, taking in her current state. Her eyes were closed and she breathed deeply. Although she lay sprawled across the blanket leaning into Rowan’s touch, it wasn’t enough. Not even close. He needed to taste her, needed to hear her. Roughly capturing her lips and moving his hand from her neck to cup her face, he kissed her slowly. He allowed his other hand to roam free and reach for something hidden in the sand next to them. Once he took hold of what he needed, he quickly maneuvered their bodies. Like a dance, Rowan flipped them around, airborne for milliseconds to quickly wrap the sherpa throw around their frames. It wasn’t long before they were tangled with each other. They were as close as physically possible with Aelin’s body now resting atop of Rowan’s, his arms encircled her waist while the throw expertly encased them. There was absolutely nothing separating them now. 

Aelin’s cheek squished against Rowan’s chest. She peered up at him within their human burrito,  “Ok, you got me,” Aelin sighed, defeated. She would have raised her hands in surrender, but they were glued to her side. “Can you unroll us now?” 

“Are you sure you don’t want to stay like this? I must admit, I quite enjoy it,” Rowan said pressing a kiss to her forehead.

“Yes I’m sure, you’re squishing my face you oaf. Plus I’m already stuck with you forever we don’t have to make it literal,” Aelin joked. 

Rowan laughed, as he unwrapped one of his arms around Aelin and pushed out of the throw blanket that encased them. He unrolled Aelin and helped her sit up, extending a hand to her, “Payback’s a bitch.”

“Mhm whatever,” Aelin mumbled. She crawled into Rowan’s lap and rested her head on him. “I’ll be sure to get you tomorrow.” 

Rowan chuckled softly to himself as he ran his fingers through Aelin’s hair, massaging her scalp. She leaned into his touch before slowly drifting off to sleep. Once her breathing evened out, Rowan laid down as well, gently pulling Aelin to his side and assembling the fleece blanket to unfold on top of them. Soon, he too was lulled to sleep by the sound of the waves. The couple slept all through the night, wrapped in each other’s arms beneath the glimmering blanket of stars - the perfect end to a perfect honeymoon.

Tags: @illyriangarbage // @court-of-fuck-me-daddy  // @girlnovels // @aelinninielelain // @julesherondalex // @rosehallshadowsinger // @ifangirlninja // @dreamerforever-5// @queen-of-wings-and-fire // @rhysanoodle  // @jemma-nessian-and-elriel // @books-and-words-addict  // @nightinshadow // @wolffrising // @the-regal-warrior  // @dreamingofalba // @abillionlittlepieces // @alitzeldiaz // @kylizzles // @queenmaas // @illyrian-bookworm // @aspillofstars // @b00kworm // @tswaney17 // @girl-who-reads-the-books // @theshadowsinger-and-thefawn // @abraxos // @perseusannabeth // @acourtofmarauders // @sweetlyvillainous // @awesomelena555 // @notyournymphetish // @ladywitchling // @aesthetics-11 // @sjmships // @iammissstark // @illyrianwitchling13 // @moondancer-204 // @sjm-things // @foolsinlove // @sayosdreams // @welcometothespeaknowworldtour // @flourishandblottsx // @stardelia // @julemmaes // @thewayshedreamed // @texas-shaped-waffle-maker // @keshavomit // @superspiritfestival // 

[dirt-cup-draco]

George x Reader - I’ll Protect What’s Mine

Hi! Can I please request you getting into a mishap with Cormac (sleaze ball) McLaggen where he accidentally hurts you. You knowing it wasn’t intentional and saying it’s fine, but your very overprotective and loving boyfriend Fred Weasley only seeing the aftermath (ie you with a bruise) and going insane at McLaggen. Basically a big misunderstanding. Maybe a fight where George has to hold him back and McGonagall (absolute icon and queen) steps in? All with a dash of angst and a sprinkle of fluff?

Cormac was insistent, to say the least. He had been flirting with you for the past week despite you making sure you were taken and not interested in him that way, it was becoming a bit uncomfortable. You supposed that you could have told George and put an end to it all but you figured you could handle Cormac yourself, he was a prat but you thought he’d at least have enough sense to give up when you didn’t give him a shred of attention.

You were wrong it seemed as Cormac followed you out of the great hall after eating lunch. Of course he caught you on the day George had quidditch practice. “Wait up Y/N, I want to talk,” He called out but you just kept walking, pretending as if you hadn’t heard a thing. “Y/N!” He tried again when he realized you weren’t slowing down. 

You heard him pick up his pace and you increased yours but it wasn’t enough as you were yanked back suddenly, a hand tight on your wrist. You nearly winced, Cormac didn’t always know his strength. 

“Hey, what’s the deal?” He asked, grip still as strong as ever. “Didn’t you hear me?” 

“Um-” You were seemingly frozen on the spot, the anxiety of this encounter making your chest grow tight. “Yes, sorry, I’m just in quite a hurry you see,” You tried to explain but Cormac didn’t look convinced as you paused for longer than necessary. 

“Where to? I always feel like you’re avoiding me gorgeous,” He whined but thought he was being suave. 

“To see George, you know, my boyfriend,” You emphasized, tugging your wrist out of Cormac’s grasp but out of instinct he pulled harder and you yelped. “Cormac let go!” 

Immediately your wrist was freed and he looked a tad guilty. “Sorry bout that,” 

“It’s fine,” You said, rubbing your wrist as your heart pounded uncomfortably against your ribs. Your wrist ached and you could already see they early signs of bruising. 

“I-I didn’t mean to,” Cormac said in another apology, “Believe me?” 

You nodded and sighed. “I do believe you but please you’ve got to stop with this... We can be friends but we can’t be more. I don’t see you that way and I’m really happy with George,” 

Cormac clenched his teeth but nodded as he took the rejection for the first time all weak. “Fine. I can’t say I’m not a better choice but I see that I can’t convince you of that,”

You gave him a sad smile and made your way to the hospital wing to get your aching wrist wrapped up. She assured you the pain would subside in no more than two days even if the bruises remained for a bit longer after that. You thanked her for her help and left, headed to the gryffindor common room to see George when someone passed you in the hall, giggling and exclaiming about some fight that was going on. 

Rolling your eyes you ignored them until you heard, “That Weasley twin, not sure which one it is, clocked McLaggen when he walked out of class, can you believe it?” Your blood turned to slush in your veins.  

You followed after them at a steady pace, praying that your idiot boyfriend and that idiot Cormac were not in a fight. Yet here you were, shoving your way through a crowd of cheering students from every house as they encouraged the two boys in the center to continue. 

“Who gave you the right to fucking touch her?” George growled, lunging for Cormac as the boy dodged, circling around George. He was already sporting a split lip and a bruised jaw and you felt bad for him. 

“I didn’t mean any harm!” Cormac defended, hands in front of him as he defended himself. 

“George stop it!” You cried from the crowd as he swung at Cormac again. “He didn’t mean it!” 

George turned to you then, eyes soft and shoulders sagging but then his eyes connected with the wrap around your wrist and the fire was sparked all over again. No one would hurt his girl and get away with it, especially after Cormac had been trying to steal you away from him all week. You wouldn’t let him help you, you hadn’t even told him, but his friends had been more than willingly to share what they had seen while you and Cormac had talked in the hallway.

It was in an instant that the rowdy crowd went from deafening to silent as McGonagall pushed between them, her dress robes flying behind her a determined and dangerous look on her face. “Cease this behavior immediately!” She cried out as the teenagers paused where they stood. Cormac looked like a deer caught in the headlights while George stood moping and unable to meet his head of house’s eye. 

She grabbed their ears and looked down at them with stern, yet motherly disappointment. “I wish I could say I expect better from the two of you. Now for the rest of you students, get back to your studies!” She sighed, leading them away from the students that had been accumulated. 

It was an hour later when George came into your dorm, looking particularly grumpy. “I’ve got two weeks detention,” He grumbled as he fell beside you as you flipped through your book. You didn’t look at him. 

“Good, you shouldn’t have been fighting,” You huffed and George sat up on his elbows, looking at you with something akin to shock. 

“I was protecting you!” 

“You were being foolish, I can handle myself and Cormac!” 

George shook his head, standing up again to pace around the room as he did whenever he was particularly stumped. “I’m starting to think you like that Cormac kid!” 

You gaped at him, trying to not be offended by his comment. “I’ve been telling him all week long how happy I am with you George Weasley, don’t you dare challenge that my heart is anyone but yours,” 

He sighed and slumped back down next to you, taking your injured wrist in his hand and kissing the your knuckles that peaked out from the white cloth madam pomfrey had wrapped you up in to help. “I know that, I’m sorry.”

With a sympathetic smile you set your book down and cuddled up to him. “I know you meant well but I don’t want you getting in fights,” You squished his cheeks, turning his head from side to side, a cheeky grin playing at your lips, “I don’t want this gorgeous face damaged,” 

George barked out a laugh and you surged forward to kiss him again, hating that he had been in a fighting but feeling a bit of pride that he would stand up for you. 

“Why didn’t you tell me Cormac had been messing with you?” George asked suddenly, a tad bit more solemn than before but not trying to come across as insecure. 

“It isn’t because I was interested, please know that,” You reassured first and foremost, “I just know Cormac can be an egomaniac and when he wants someone or something he’ll do all he can to get it because he thinks he’s entitled to it. I also know he doesn’t keep interest in anything for long, I knew I could handle him, because I knew if you got involved something like this would happen,” 

George nodded but stared at your hand. “Can I see?” He asked and you shrugged, removing the bandages easily. 

“It is just a bruise and a little sore but it’s nothing. He didn’t mean to hurt me sweetheart, he doesn’t know his strength and I don’t think he meant to hold on so tight,” You said as George stared at the purples and blues painting your wrist that had swelled just enough to notice. 

George took your hand in his, trailing his fingers feather light over the imprints Cormac had made. “I was just going to talk to him but Lee saw everything that happened between you two and mentioned you were alright but still had to go to the hospital wing and I just saw red Y/N.... I never want you hurt,” 

“If you’re seeing red my love it probably just means you need a haircut,” You teased but wrapped your wrist back up so he didn’t have to look at it any longer. He seemed more distressed than you. Admittedly you had been shaken up earlier but now you were relaxed beside your lovely boyfriend. “I appreciate all you do for me,” 

“I just want to protect what’s mine...” He muttered, cheeks turning pink as he avoided your gaze. George was feeling possessive, you were his and he didn’t want anyone touching you and it came from the little voice in the back of his head that you might leave him one day for a guy like Cormac. 

The words were sweet to your ears, not making you uncomfortable in the slightest. You were proud to be his as you knew he was proud to be yours. You knew he felt insecure sometimes, he felt like Fred was the better twin, he felt his friends were better jokesters, he thought you would find a better man, yet all you saw when you looked at the freckled boy beside you was perfection. 

“I love you George,” You nuzzled your nose against his. “And I do appreciate you, but promise me you won’t fight like this again. I love that you are willing to stand up for me and stand by me but I can stand for myself too,” 

George understood what you were saying you were independent and strong and lovely, of course you could handle yourself, he just wanted to be the one to handle you with the care and love you deserved, the respect you deserved. 

“I’m sorry,” He muttered again, face buried in your neck and your heart ached a bit. You knew he was worrying himself now over if he had upset you or not. 

“No need to be love,” You reassured, fingers carding through his hair at a leisurely pace. “It was sweet,” 

“Not as sweet as you,”

You laughed out loud, grabbing your book and opening it back up as George settled against your chest as he let your reassurances calm his nerves and your warmth ground him. “You sap,” You snorted but he just smiled. 

You might not need it, but George Weasley would always protect you. 

[curiosity-killed]

Fic writer meme 2 electric boogaloo

Ty for the tag @veliseraptor & @mikkeneko ^-^

Tagging @aurumdalseni @gusu-emilu @hoarder-of-stories-27 @xihe-jun @perkynurples if you wanna but no pressure!

(under cut bc LONG)

How many works do you have on AO3? 

118

What’s your total AO3 word count? 

994,456 which makes me happy for no good reason except that it means I have written well over a million words total (including original fic and unpublished works) and that I will tip over that mark on AO3 itself when I post my next wip 🎉

How many fandoms have you written for and what are they? 

7: Voltron, MCU, Assassin’s Creed, MDZS/CQL, Supernatural, TGCF, and WOH

What are your top 5 fics by kudos? 

Oh this actually makes me happy bc the middle three are my favorites of my own fics 🥰🥰

a bow for the bad decisions (2671)

upon this altar (1121)

whipstitch (1095)

of swords and wings (975)

the dead horse (965)

Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Yep! I generally try to respond to comments both as a thank you and because I find the conversations there super super rewarding! That said, I generally don’t reply to comments that: annoy me (okay sometimes I do bc I’m petty), are super old and I forgot to reply, or are from someone reading a finished fic chapter by chapter (I am SO appreciative and delighted by those comments but I feel bad replying like a week later when you’ve already finished the fic orz so I usually just reply to the latest comment)

What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

off hesperus LMAO yeah uh…can’t think of anything that really comes even distantly in second

Do you write crossovers? If so, what is the craziest one you’ve written?

Nah. My first fic was a crossover of MCU & Norse myth but I don’t really enjoy reading or writing crossovers

Have you ever received hate on a fic?

mm sort of I guess? I’ve gotten people with their pants in a twist especially over whipstitch (the iconic “wwx whump fetishist who only wants lwj to nut” DOES live in my mind rent-free and crack me up ngl) which is why I turned off anonymous comments till about after it was done. Mostly I’ve just gotten people yelling about how much they hate certain characters I clearly care about which is less hate and more ?? Sir this is a Wendy’s

Do you write smut? if so what kind? 

Very rarely & usually the half-finished kind bc I get bored partway through writing it 😅

Have you ever had a fic stolen? 

Not that I know of! I hope not lol

Have you ever had a fic translated? 

Yes!! and if she leads was translated into mandarin by AlllltheFish …I am still jazzed about it

Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Nope!

What’s your all time favorite ship?

I’m boring but I don’t really have one? I tend to like different ships for different reasons that make them meaningful and important to me in a given moment so 😅 if I had to pick, I’d probably say AltMal and Hualian—the hurt/comfort, acceptance, and individual characters make them pretty lasting loves for me

What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

:’) so many.

nah, in all seriousness I don’t like to say things are abandoned because I tend to circle back to old ideas eventually. Ones I actually don’t think will ever be finished are: (1) the post-canon tgcf fic from the POV of hua cheng’s middle brother, (2) the AU where wwx grows up on Baoshan Sanren’s mountain, (3) the sequel to ‘i have watched you down the mountain’ where lxc and lwj work together to prevent some of the canon tragedies, and (4) the hualian pygmalion AU that was my first long-fic i started in this fandom 

What are your writing strengths? ah I hate this question despite having just answered it lmao I think I’m good at sort of immersing a reader in the story? Like I tend to write pretty visceral descriptions and stick to a relatively deep POV and based on reader reactions, that seems to somewhat effectively make people feel...a lot...??

What are your writing weaknesses? My biggest weaknesses come from structure imo. I have a really really hard time planning stories which leads to me getting stuck partway through the story and either having to force myself to trudge through it or abandoning the story because I don’t know what happens. Pacing is another definite struggle zone—I have a tendency to bounce from “30k of introspection” to “oh fuck all the plot has to happen RIGHT NOW.” And I almost never proofread! So there’s uh some struggle zones

What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic? Depends on the moment and purpose? In the context of CQL/MDZS & TGCF I tend to leave it for terms that are a) hard to translate well and b) well-known in the fandom/audience I’m writing for (e.g., familial terms like jiujiu or xiao-shu, martial family terms, occasionally units of measurement). 

I don’t mind it in certain other settings, again going back to where it would be difficult or clunky or lose important meaning in translation or if it’s used like…purposefully?? God I’m making no sense but like…I think there are times when another language is more effective, and perhaps more importantly, the switch matters. Like...there’s a part in Station Eleven where a character is suddenly cut off from his loved ones and sort of watching the apocalypse happen in real-time and his thoughts get kind of hung up on tu me manques—not ‘I miss you’ but the French where the structure more emphasizes ‘you are missing from me’—and I think that’s a great example of times where the switch matters both because of how it makes the reader shift their thinking briefly and of filling out a character and the emotional impact of a moment.

....no idea if that makes sense

What was the first fandom you wrote for?

MCU ;____;

What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

Three way tie between whipstitch, of swords and wings, and upon this altar, with whipstitch just barely beating out the other two! 

[goldenfawnwriting]

Birds of a Feather- Hawks pic Pt 6

Summary: After a tense week Finch is ready to throw in the towel on her new position when Hawks confesses to everything and gives her a proposal that has her head reeling.

A/N: wow this chapter really took it out of me lmao, hope you guys enjoy!

Warnings: Angst, mentions of NSFW 

The weeks going on were ridiculously tense. As Hawks filled his day with work to try and forget about his feelings, Finch was getting annoyed at how he was avoiding her. It was nearly impossible to get anything done at this rate

“H-Hawks sir..?”

Finch panted, finally catching up to him in the lobby. It was mid day and Finch hadn’t seen him all day. After call after call looking for him and people asking for him she was relieved when she finally caught sight of his red feathers walking away from her. 

As he turned to look at her he noticed her reddened face. She panted, her lips slightly parted as she held out a notebook to him. He took it silently and read it over as she caught her bearings. It wasn’t too great of an idea to wear such high heels today but, she didn’t realize she’d be chasing him around all day. 

“What’s with all the meetings?”

“S-sir... There’s been an issue with another one of the Pro’s agency and they want to send some student interns here.”

He looked her over with a grimace. She was wearing her usual pencil skirt and blouse, only this blouse had a waist cincher laced up around her. the black cincher was in stark contrast to the white flowy house under it and he practically had to tear his eyes away.

“So what do they need me for exactly?”

He grumbled. Finch looked a little taken aback as she smoothed down her hair and took back the notebook. 

“They need you to sign off on them coming here sir-”

“Just sign it for me.”

He dismissed her with a wave and she felt her face heat with mild annoyance. 

“I can’t just sign it for you sir, this happens to be your job, these kids are your responsibility-”

“Then they just won’t come here then huh?”

He cut her off, turning to give her a stern look. She was offended, shocked into silence before he stalked off. She was fuming as she made her way back to the office, slamming the notebook down on her desk. She was so exhausted trying to keep up with him and he was by no means making it easier. 

Next time she saw him was at the end of the day, she was packing up her things for the night. He chuckled as he came in, some intern following behind closely, giggling with him. She stopped when he stumbled in, looking between the intern and her before turning to his desk.

“Ya, haha, just hit me up tomorrow, maybe we’ll even grab lunch.”

The girl giggled and agreed before waving him goodbye and making her exit. Finch wondered if she had interrupted something and she tried to smooth her puffy plumage before making her way to Hawks’ desk without a word. She threw down three papers stapled together before turning to go grab her things. 

Hawks picked up the packet, spying the title that read ‘Formal Notice of Resignation’. He could only stare for a moment before blinking and looking up as she made her way to the door. He shot out of his chair, the leather spinning in a circle behind him before he rushed forward to grab her forearm and stop her from leaving. 

“Whoa, whoa wait- you’re resigning?!”

“Looks like it sir.”

She sneered, emphasizing the sir. He knew that he had made it stupidly difficult for her to do her job but, for some reason this never crossed his mind as an outcome. 

“Why? Why do you want to-”

“Hawks, you’ve literally made my life hell, trying to do my job is literally so stupidly hard that it’s not fucking worth it!”

He flinched at the curse word and the blood drained from his face. He had messed up. He just wanted to get over her but, it seemed that wouldn’t happen. His silence only pissed Finch off further. 

“Have fun at lunch tomorrow.”

She sneered, ripping her arm out of his grasp. 

“Finch please don’t- I really wish you’d stay, I’m sorry-”

“Hawks, it’s not worth it!”

“J-just listen to me for a second, hear me out!”

He begged, willing her back into the room. She was silence but planted her feet, a sign she was staying. 

“I-I...”

“Out with it Haw-”

“I just really like you Finch. I can’t get you out of my mind and I’ve been trying to but I can’t-”

“Are you kidding me right now?”

He was frantically waving his hands, trying his best to convince her to stay.

“I’ll stop being a brat I promise!”

She shivered at his tone when he said that but couldn’t figure out why. Something was heating her body up against her will and she felt a twinge in her lower stomach. 

“A brat?”

Her voice lowered slightly and he swallowed. He was expecting to be chewed out big time but was surprised when she only huffed and looked away.

“I-I promise I’ll stop being difficult and I’ll stop avoiding you...”

He hated how meek he sounded when he said that, a blush crawling onto his face. It was embarrassing a little house finch was putting a red winged hawk in his place right now.

While he was wallowing in self pity for allowing this to happen she was feeling slightly sick all of the sudden. He liked her. Something in her was squealing like a little girl in excitement while the adult part of her was mourning her job. This would only be even more complicated now. She advanced on him, walking him back till he hit the edge of his desk, her face coming pretty close to him, his eyes set on the ground in front of him. 

“You’re telling me... All of this, was because you have some stupid little crush?”

She growled. He gulped and reached out, his fingers grazing the front of her waist cincher. 

“I-I’m sorry..?”

He tried pitifully. 

“Hawks you’ve made my job a living hell for the past 3 weeks and your excuse is that you like me?”

“Y-yes...”

He almost thought she was going to explode on him but he was surprised when she reached up, grabbing the hair at the base of his neck and forcing him to look at her. Her face was reddened, her eyes half lidded as she looked at him. She couldn’t help the lust filling her. It was like she suddenly just had to have him, regardless of how shy she usually was. 

Finally she pounced, pressing her lips to his, surprising him even more before he set his hands on her waist, pulling her closer to his chest, pressing her into him. When she pulled away she was panting slightly, her blouse slightly open, just enough for him to see the way her rosy skin was rising and falling, her breasts look so soft, he thought. The room felt hot all the sudden, Hawks pulling off his jacket hastily as he kissed Finch hard, his muscular arms traveling up to her face, on hand taking her chin and the other going behind her to her back, pressing her into him again. 

He leaned back against his desk, pulling at the tie on her waist cincher and undoing it, loosening her blouse enough to sneak his hand under the hem, groping her breast and causing her to pant out a sweet moan, only loud enough for him to hear her. 

Just then there was a knock on the door, breaking them apart.

“J-just a second!”

Hawks called, grabbing up his coat as Finch redid her cincher and smoothed her hair, hoping that her blushing face wouldn’t give them away as she fixed her lipstick. Finally, Hawks pulled open the door to find a commission representative tapping his foot impatiently. Hawks let him inside hesitantly and looked down speaking. 

“Thanks for everything today Finch, you can go now, I’ll get the signatures taken care of.”

He reassured her before ushering her out of the room quickly. When the door closed behind her she was flabbergasted, absolutely confused, and a little upset. Who was that guy anyway? Was he going to get in trouble, is that why he made her go? She tried to brush it off but her body was still burning for her boss. Now she had to contemplate if this well known bachelor was worth her job or not.

^^^

When she got home she was buzzing, the energy in her body nearly killing her as she dialed Asami’s number. They hadn’t seen each other since that night at the bar and she only recounted the details of it over the phone to her best friend. It was about time they had another girls night. 

“Hey-”

“Asami, girl emergency, we need to get together.”

Asami laughed on the other side of the line before replying. 

“Ok, when and where?”

“Meet me at that little cafe on Vine street in an hour ok?”

With Asami’s confirmation Finch hung up the phone and quickly changed into a pair of regular jeans and a cute striped navy shirt, grabbing her cross body and making sure to lock the door before she left. She planned to walk to the cafe so it would take her a minute, but give her enough time to think. 

When she finally got there Asami was waiting for her and they were seated quickly before Finch explained everything that happened in the past weeks, not sparing any detail of the latest day.

“Oh wow... Well, are you gonna date him?”

Finch sighed and slumped back in her seat, her wings moving out of the way.

“That’s the only thing. I’ve been with the agency since I graduated. If I got with him then I would potentially be throwing away my whole livelihood. I’ve only ever had that job, I can’t risk it.”

She explained. Asami hummed in thought.

“Well, then you guys could always keep it a secret. Like one of those freaky friends with benefits things!”

Finch shushed her quickly before looking around to see if anyone had heard. 

“Asami! You can’t just yell that!”

Asami laughed in response but left Finch to think as they ate their dinners. 

^^^

Finch groaned as she flopped back onto her bed. It had been nearly a month since her and Hawks started ‘seeing’ each other. She had worked hard to make sure their work was completely separate from their real relationship in order to avoid suspicion but it was getting increasingly hard. The amount of women throwing themselves at the winged hero daily was sickening. It wasn’t like they were official but man was it hard to watch. 

After a long day at the office she was finally home, lounging in bed since Hawks was busy. She was drowning in jealously and she wasn’t sure what to do. Finally she decided, typing out a quick text to her best friend asking for advice. Asami was quick to respond, pushing her like she had already been, to tell Hawks that she wanted something more serious. 

Countless nights were spent in her boss’ bed and she was killing to be public but she really was afraid of what would happen to her job wise. Would they terminate her? Demote her?

Later that night, as she curled up on her couch watching tv, there was a knock on her balcony and she got up, quickly pushing the door open for Hawks to sneak inside, chuckling at her expression.

“Not funny, you scared me!”

“Aw, c’mon birdie, it wasn’t that big of a deal.”

She slapped his arm as he laughed before pulling her into a chaste kiss. 

“Uh can we-”

“I have something great to tell you!”

He cut her off in excitement. She looked at him expectantly, swallowing the urge to ask for more of a relationship. 

“So, I’m sure you know even I have higher ups, right? Well we had a meeting today right?”

She nodded along, remembering his schedule for the past day.

“They have taken my advice, and are officially asking you to become my sidekick!”

She was silent, her face pale.

“What?”

She mumbled.

“They want you to get your wings fixed and train to become my sidekick instead of my personal assistant. They like how we work well together, and think you’ll be a great hero.”

Finch’s mind flashed back to her UA days, failing out of the hero course. She was mortified. 

“I-I dont-”

“It’ll be great! We’ll be able to spend a lot of time together publicly without any suspicion at all y’know-”

“Hawks please.”

She stopped him. His face fell and he went silent, looking at her with hope in his eyes. She didn’t want to crush it.

“I’ll need some time to think...”

There was silence before Finch met his eyes as he replied.

“Y-ya of course gorgeous, take all the time you need...”

He looked away before asking what she knew he was thinking.

“Why wouldn’t you want to be a hero?” She sighed and fidgetted, moving around the room.

“I-I just don’t know if I’m cut out for that, I mean, i’ve been an office worker for years and I’m good at that-”

“Finch, babe, I know you’ll be great at this, I wouldn’t have put in the idea if I didn’t think you could do it.”

“Hawks, I tried to become a hero before, it didn’t work out-”

“Ya but, if we fixed your wings you’d be able to fly, kid.”

She was silent. Every time Hawks’ giant red wings lifted him off the ground she was stupidly jealous. It was a dream of hers that she had thought was in vain but it could come true. She looked at her hands, wringing her wrists. What was she supposed to do?

“I-I just need some time.”

She concluded. He nodded at her and made his way to the balcony.

“Well, take all the time you need lovebird, just let me know. I’ve gotta get back to night patrol.”

She nodded and he rounded back to kiss her forehead before taking off out the window, leaving her with her thoughts. 

[random-mha-thoughts]

Sick (Todoroki x Reader) Birthday Special!

Pairing: Todoroki x Reader 

Genre: Fluff (fluffed myself into devastation again)

Summary: It’s your boyfriend’s birthday, but unfortunately you’re feeling less enthusiastic about it because you’re sick as a dog.  So what happens when the birthday boy finds out you’re in less than top condition?

Inspo: Me, myself, and I bc I was sick this past week (and I’m still not over it), and this Tik Tok bc I’m a loser.

Word count: 1,698

Tags:  @yuki-osaki​ @liviitehe​ @iamsoftsodonttoucheume-blog​ @bunnythepipsqueak​

A/N: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE ONLY ICYHOT THAT MATTERS TODOROKI!!

I decided to combine a birthday special with an idea I had about a sick reader that I was going to write anyway because softboy Todo is the best Todo (besides the ones where he’s flirty but that’s different)

Don’t judge me for being on Tiktok, my cousin was showing me all the cosplayers and I was sold, the cosplayers are so talented, I’m really jealous T.T.  Not to mention there’s actually some really great fanfic fodder floating around there, so don’t be shocked if I post some others inspired by Tiktoks.  Anyway, enjoy the story!

I feel like I've been run over.

Every muscle in my body is either aching or stiff, my nose is stuffed, my throat hurts, and my body is cold and hot at the same time despite wearing flannel pajamas.  At random times last night, I woke up between whatever snipets of random dreams I can remember.

In short, I feel miserable and I've only been awake for 10 seconds.

I was hoping it wouldn't get to this point.  Two days ago, I started taking vitamin C supplements because I felt the tickling scratchiness starting up in my throat, and yesterday I was out with the Deku squad in the cold because Uraraka wanted to go to some wings place in the city in the freezing cold.  Never did I think it would escalate to this.

I blame Denki.  The idiot was coughing like a dog all over the place.

At first, I'm happy it's a Saturday and I can probably just lay in bed and sleep all day.  When I finally gather enough energy to roll over and look at my phone, I feel infinitely worse.

Fuck. It's January 11.

Today's Todoroki's birthday.  And I'm sick.  What kind of twist of fate is this?  I wanted to take him out to eat or go to an arcade or something just to spend the day with him, but it takes too much energy to get up.

I huff, guilt eating at me.  I have to do this, for my baby.  Kicking the covers off, I slowly roll up to sit at the edge of my bed, wrapping myself in my blanket and trudging to the bathroom.  The soreness in my limbs beg me to go back to bed, but I repeat the mantra, "For Shouto, it's for Shouto " to keep me going.

As soon as I see myself in the bathroom mirror I whine.  My face is so pale that my dark circles are more prominent, emphasizing my obvious lack of good sleep.  After I complete the strenuous task of brushing my teeth, I shuffle back to my bed and faceplant down at the foot side since I'm too tuckered out to get in properly.  I'll wait for Shouto to come after breakfast.  I'll just go back to sleep, I persuade myself as I drift off.  Maybe I can ask him to only spend half a day so I can come back and sleep, I'm sure he'll understand...

After some time, I'm startled out of my half slumber by a soft knock at the door.  "Love?  Are you awake?  It's me."

I smile at my precious angel's manners.  "Coming, just give me a sec."  I gather all my strength and try not to make it look like I'm dying on the inside as I open the door.

There Todoroki stands in his casual clothes, his endearing, ever-neutral face present as usual.  "Good morning.  You weren't down for breakfast, did you eat already?"

"No, not yet, I just woke up," I answer, my voice slightly hoarse.

His brows furrow.  "Did you drink any water yet at least?  They say it's good for starting your metabolism in the morning."

I shake my head.

He studies me, his heterochromatic eyes scanning me up and down in my blanket-clad state before scrutinizing my face.  "Did you sleep well last night?"

"Not really..."

He crosses his arms over his chest and steps towards me, making me take another one back.  "You know I don't like it when you don't take care of yourself.  You know what that means."  A dark aura washes over his face.

I cling to my blanket and screw my eyes shut, somewhat afraid of him when he gets like this.

A warm hand comes down on my head.  "You feel warmer than you're supposed to, the heat's radiating off of you.  Not to mention you're pale," he comments.  He removes his hand.  "Get back to bed, you're not going anywhere today."

"But it's your birthday, I wanted to spend the day with you," I cough at the end.  The muffled noise and the pain in my ears that follows males me realize my hearing is shot along with everything else wrong with me.

"We can spend the day in bed together," he argues, pushing me gently down to recline.

I groan at how stubborn he is.  "Can't we go out for half a day?  I promise I'll rest later."

"No," Todoroki dismisses tersely, refitting the blanket across my sheets.  "We can save that for tomorrow, you need rest."  He places a gentle kiss on my forehead and pauses.  "That's definitely a low to mid grade fever.  Can I trust you to stay here while I gather some supplies?"

I blink.  What.  "Yes, I'll stay put," I surrender.

After almost half an hour, Todoroki returns, awakening me from my slumber with arms full.

"What the-"  I eye the huge pot in his hands and a tote bag hanging off his arm.

He set the pot down on the floor.  "I took the liberty of making you chicken soup with some ginger for your throat.  I also brought some medicine for your fever, a box of tissues, a humidifier, some nose spray for the congestion, a bag of cough drops, a thermos of water, a carton of orange juice-"

I whine out loud like a child, feeling a huge rock of guilt on my chest.

"Is something wrong?  Are you in pain?"  His affectionate gaze flickers to me in worry.

"You're killing me, Shouto!"

He sits next to me on the bed, brushing my face with his fingertips.  "Did I do something wrong?  I'm sorry-"

"No, it's not you," I sigh.  "I just feel so bad.  Today's your birthday, and here you are taking care of me because I got sick instead of doing something fun.  I'm terrible."

His fingers brush my hair off my forehead.  "Love, it's not your fault that you're sick on my birthday-"

"Yeah, it's Kaminari's," I interject with a pout.

Todoroki chuckles.  "I'll fix him later.  I don't need anything special, I just want to spend time with you.  Besides, you being ill gives me the perfect excuse to stay by your side all day."

Warmth blooms in my chest at his loving words.  I sniff, "You're too good to me."

He kisses my forehead again.  "I'm fully expecting the same treatment if I ever get sick as repayment."

"Huh?!"

A heart-melting smile cracks across his face.  "Kidding, Love.  Just finish your soup and let me take care of you.  That's more than enough repayment."

The rest of the day passed in a comfortable blur.  Todoroki fed me soup by the bowl every few hours for my meals, made sure I drank water throughout the day, and gave me orange juice to drink.  "You need the Vitamin C to help your immune system work," he says.  All day, he wrapped us in blankets as we binge-watched shows and movies on my laptop while regulating my temperature with his quirk.  He catered to every need I had from my stuffy nose to my muffled hearing.  He even started massaging my sore muscles to ease the dull pain.  My heart couldn't feel fuller knowing he willingly nursed me back to health when he could've been doing something more fun or at least productive.

"Shouto, don't you want to at least go train today?" I ask.  "You don't have to sit here with me the whole day."

His hand around my body squeezes tighter.  "I'd rather be here with you than train."

I weakly hit his chest.  "You sound slightly obsessive."

Todoroki's cool fingers absently play with my hair, brushing my cheeks.  "If you fall asleep, I'll step out for a little so I don't bother you."

After a moment, I tilt my head up at him.  "I want to give you your gift at least.  It's in the top drawer."

Quirking an eyebrow, he gets out of bed and opens my chest of drawers.  "You didn't need to get me anything."  He pulls out a thin, black cardboard box on top.

"I'm warning you now, it's kind of stupid, but I didn't know what to get for a boy who already has everything," I admit, nervously watching him sit back next to me and open it.

Inside is a simple string bracelet with two silver balls flanking a golden Sun symbol.  Todoroki takes it out and immediately puts it on his right wrist to admire it, though his expression is blank as ever.

"I know you don't wear jewelry, but I wanted to keep it simple.  Besides, it's actually a couples set," I nod over to my bedside table.  "Mine is over there."

He surveys the mess and locks eyes with a bracelet of similar design except a silver crescent moon is in the middle.

"You get the Sun one because you're my precious sunshine boy," I chuckle before coughing to clear my throat.  "Sorry, that was really cheesy-"

Todoroki cups my face and seals my lips before I can finish.  I almost kiss him back instinctively, but I pull his hands away.  "Shouto, I'm sick-"

"Thank you."  A soft smile appears across his features and his eyes glint in affection, washing me over in warmth.  "I'll wear it every day, when I'm not training so it won't break."

Before I can respond, he tackles me in another kiss, sending my heart into a frenzy of irregular beats.  His kisses are sweet yet searing, pouring all of his love as he moves against me, clinging to my body like a lifeline.

When Todoroki finally pulls away, my head spins, but I can't miss the grin on his face as he caresses my cheek.  "I love you," he whispers.

And just like that, my heart feels squeezed again.  "You're gonna get sick."

He pecks my nose.  "At least it's from you."

I bury my face in his chest, heat rushing to my cheeks and ears.  "I love you too, you big dork."

The rise and fall of his chest and his soft touch in my hair lulls me to sleep in his arms, a smile on both of our faces.

[namsjunies]

infatuated // jjk

anon requested: can you write a nsfw blurb of nerd virgin jk losing his virginity to his female crush who’s like popular and he thinks is super hot lmao?

pairing: jungkook/female reader

word count: 3,059

tags: loss of virginity, handjob, face sitting, safe, penetrative sex

this goes way beyond being a blurb but i hope that makes it worth the time it took me to write it. please enjoy <3 also this is unedited so please excuse any typos hehe

Jungkook doesn’t know what it is about you that made you so appealing to him, aside from the obvious: your appearance. He’d spoken to you in passing, more in a group conversational context than one on one and he’d heard you speak in a single class he’d miraculously shared with you during his third semester. You’re nice and smart as far as he can tell, but you hang around in the same circles as Taehyung and Jimin who are whispered about all over campus, as vast as it is, because of their looks and their charming personalities. 

Jungkook doesn’t get around much in terms of parties and clubbing, he promised himself he’d be diligent with his studies even if it meant sacrificing a lot of what people claim shapes a college experience. But Jungkook thinks much of what shapes a college experience is actually graduating over flunking out. It’s not that he doesn’t do anything at all, but he has priorities and he’s not going to sacrifice his ambition for the consequences of questionable actions.

Yet somehow, Jungkook becomes close to Taehyung after taking a number of classes with him over several semesters and suddenly he’s navigating through social circles he’s not quite sure he fits in well with. But, it brings him closer to you, who he’d been slowly developing what feels like a high school crush for the more he sees of you and the more he hears of you from his new friends. They talk about you so casually, and Jungkook just finds himself wishing he knew you like that.

Jungkook thinks Taehyung is trying to take him under his wing, help Jungkook become more open and social while still allowing him to maintain his focus on what he considers the most important. So it’s only after midterms end that Taehyung invites Jungkook to a big party rather than the more casual settings they usually hang out in. Jungkook is apprehensive at first, he’s not so sure about being somewhere unfamiliar around so many people he doesn’t know, but he receives reassurance from Taehyung that there will be plenty of people who Jungkook considers friends (and hearing that you will be there is enough reason already).

So maybe Jungkook puts even more pressure on himself to look nice for the party in an effort to impress you. He pushes his hair back away from his face to expose his forehead rather than settling for his normal look, and dresses himself in a blue satin button up and some black jeans. He feels like he might be just slightly too formal for a college party, but he’d rather look good than be underdressed. But upon arriving, he doesn’t feel bad, because Taehyung is dressed in his normal semi-formal attire--loose slacks and a dress shirt--and he offers Jungkook a grin and a clap on the back of his shoulder when he catches sight of him.

“Jimin and Hoseok are on the couch, I’ll get you a drink and then head over there,” Taehyung tells him before nudging him in the right direction.

Jungkook makes his way through a number of people hovering around drinking and talking and swaying in beat with the music permeating through the house before he spots his friends and the only place that he’s able to take a seat is on the armrest next to Jimin. Jimin then just offers him a warm smile. “I’m glad you made it, JK. Tonight will be fun.”

Jungkook is happy to be around his friends, and when Taehyung comes back and presses a cold beer bottle into Jungkook’s hand, their conversation carries on for a while pleasantly. Jungkook loosens up slowly, between all the talking and the music he’s vaguely familiar with and the alcohol. But despite how content he feels, he can’t help but wonder where you are after Taehyung had emphasized quite clearly that you would be around that night. Jungkook is sure that you’re surrounded by other friends in some other part of the house that he has yet to explore, but as soon as the thought enters his mind, he catches sight of you across the living room by the staircase. You keep getting caught up in brief conversations, but you’re clearly making your over to Jungkook (and the rest of your friends too, he supposes). He wonders if tonight he’ll finally be able to grab and maintain your attention. Sometimes, the way you would look at him and talk to him, so attentively with your eyes wide and sparkling welcomingly, he would feel so special and his cheeks would heat up under your gaze and he’d struggle to continue a conversation. All a part of having a crush, but it didn’t make Jungkook feel any better about making a fool of himself in front of you. He likes to think that he’d gotten more comfortable around you since Taehyung befriended him, but that thought could just be Jungkook’s own wishful thinking.

Eventually, after minutes of stealing glances over to you to measure your distance away, you’re finally standing in front of him. Jungkook’s anxiety tells him that you’re scrutinizing him, but you’ve only glanced at him for a second and then you’re smiling as you compliment him.

“Jungkook, I’m so happy to see you. I was hoping you would make it. I feel like I never see you outside of campus, I’ve been waiting for the chance to really talk to you.”

Your words alone are enough to make Jungkook’s heart drop into the pit of his stomach, but in accompaniment with your tempting tone, he feels like he might pass out altogether. His hand squeezes tight around his half empty bottle and he smiles uncomfortably wide.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t miss this. I’ve been putting off Taehyung’s invitations long enough. Plus, getting to see you makes this all the more worth it.”

Jungkook himself is amazed by how easily the words leave his mouth, and he feels somewhat triumphant when you smirk at him and tilt your head in response. A second later, Jimin is offering you his seat on the couch and as you sit, you drape your hand casually over Jungkook’s thigh as you peer up at him expectantly.

You’d always found Jungkook attractive, more than you care to admit to yourself. His eyes are always bright, glimmering with kindness, and of all the times you’d spoken to him briefly, you’d never once found him boring and honestly you ended up wishing that you saw him more often. But it’s also easy to catch on to the way he blushes and smiles shyly around you, even if now he sounds so confident.

You’re pleased with the way the night continues, being able to really talk to Jungkook for longer and learn more about him, with brief interruptions from Jimin vying for attention when Taehyung walks away every once in a while. But as time passes, you become more distracted by the way his pink  lips part when he speaks or licks his lips, or how his arm flexes as he stretches or adjusts his grip on the empty bottle she’s pretty sure he’s keeping as a form of decoration. Your hand is still braced on his thigh almost possessively, and every time you move it up so much as a centimeter, there’s a new wave of blush blooming over Jungkook’s round cheeks. But you’re getting impatient, and you’re confident enough in his feelings for you that it gives you the courage to ask, “Do you want to go home with me?”

Jungkook sighs in what sounds like relief and nods, “Yes.”

The next 20 minutes pass in a blur with you reassuring him that yes, you like him a lot and you know he likes you too during the Uber ride to your apartment and as you’re unlocking the front door you ask if he’s sure to which he answers you with an urgent kiss as soon you’ve shut the door behind the both of you.

“The only thing is,” he breathes out as you’re pushing him down on your bed, and you pause then, wait for him to finish speaking before you even attempt another move on him. “I don’t really have, um, any experience,” he stammers, and all in the next breath he continues, “Is that a deal breaker? Is that something I should’ve mentioned earlier? I’m sorry I just really like you and, and I was hoping that it wouldn’t matter anyways-” he’s cut off when you lean down to kiss him again briefly.

“Jungkook, that doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re comfortable, okay? Let me know if you start feeling uncomfortable or something, I want this to be good for you,” you mumble with another soft kiss against his jaw.

You kiss him for a few minutes, it turns wet and sloppy quickly but the way that he breathes out a quiet moan against your lips just encourages you and you pull away only to start down the length of his throat. The loose fit of his shirt allows you to slide your hands underneath his shirt, feeling up the smooth expanse of his taut stomach until you reach his nipples. Your teasing draws out a whimper from him and you pull back to look at him as he blinks up at you shyly, eyes wider and darker than normal. “‘M sensitive,” he mumbles before you kiss him again hard.

“Cutie,” you giggle to yourself. “I wanna play with you a little bit more. Do you think you can undress yourself?”

After you receive a nod from him, you get off of him and stand so you can slip out of your own clothes, and once you’re left in your underwear, his awed expression is enough to make you shy as well. So you recover your confidence by gesturing for him to lie back again.

“Y’know, I don’t do this a lot either. But, I’m more than happy to be with you,” you tell him as you straddle his thighs, enough space in front of you to be able to slide your hand into his underwear and pull his cock out, already fully hard with the slightest touch of precum beading at the tip.

“Fuck,” he hisses softly as you swipe your thumb over the head of his cock to drag his precum down the length before you wrap your hand around the base.

“Already so hard and I’ve hardly even touched you. With how responsive you are, it’ll be so easy to learn everything you like,” you coo lovingly as he flushes with embarrassment and throws his head to the side.

You pull your hand away from him, still not satisfied with how wet he is and you don’t want the friction to hurt him, so you get off of him one last time to lean over to your nightstand and pull out a bottle of lube.

You’re on top of him again before he’s able to process that you’d gone at all, stripping him completely of his underwear before drizzling a surplus of lube over his cock before you’re taking him into your hand again and stroking him slowly, coaxing a reluctant moan from his throat.

“Such a nice cock, Jungkookie. Dripping and waiting for me. I’m going to make this so worth it for you.”

Jungkook doesn’t know what he did in his previous life to deserve having you on top of him, gazing down at him so lustfully and touching him in ways that he didn’t even know could feel good. He’s not sure if he’ll ever stop blushing again, but his embarrassment escapes him immediately, the same as the whine he lets out, as you squeeze your hand around him briefly before you keep sliding your hand up and down his cock.

He keens as you continue to touch him, and you’re mesmerized by his glistening eyes and his slick lips as he peers up at you. Minutes pass with his soft whimpers only increasing in volume as you tease his cock and his nipples, his hips are twitching and stirring eagerly underneath you.

“I’m, I’m close,” he stutters, fingers curling tight in the sheets and he squeezes his eyes shut as if he’s bracing himself, but then you’re pulling your hand away and letting his cock lay twitching and neglected against his stomach. He lets out a whine that almost makes you want to finish him off but you shake your head instead.

“ I can’t let you cum just yet. Don’t worry, I won’t tease you for too much longer,” you whisper with a playful grin blossoming across your lips.

“Can I touch you?” he asks after he’s able to catch his breath and recover from his orgasm that never was.

Your smile only grows wider, fonder, and you nod. You take his hands and guide them up your sides until they reach your breasts and he reacts immediately. He shakes your hands off his wrists and he sits up as he toys with your nipples so he can slot your lips together in another sloppy kiss. He’s satisfied with the noise you make as his left hand closes over one of your nipples and his right hand slides down your torso until he can press it flat over your cunt.

“In my experience, this is not virgin behavior,” you manage to exhale. Your underwear is damp with your arousal and as he pulls your underwear to the side so he can drag his fingertip over your clit, a whimper leaves your lips.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. All for me,” he sighs happily and you struggle to imagine what he’s seen or read that has prepared him for this moment but you’ll just ask him later. He mouths down your throat before he captures one of your nipples in his mouth just as he presses one of his fingers into your entrance. The palm of his hand is pressed deliciously up against your clit as he touches you tentatively, and it’s one of the only times you’ve noticed how unsure of himself he is.

“Jungkook. That’s good, it’s good. Keep going,” you breathe out encouragingly and one of your hands moves up instinctively to grab at his hair. You’re surprised when he pulls his hand away entirely and you’re more than disappointed by the loss until he looks up at you.

“Sit on my face,” he breathes out with a slight chuckle in his tone.

“Oh so you’re really feeling brave,” you tease him. “Are you sure?” you add, to which he just nods eagerly and both of his hands rest on your hips, urging you up again as he lies back.

That’s all the convincing it takes before you’re sitting up. You pull your underwear off completely and a second later you’re hovering over his head with your thighs spread welcomingly and he braces his hands against your thighs, pulling you down until he can press his mouth against you.

You can’t help the moan you express as he licks eagerly into your entrance, whimpering intelligibly about how good you taste, and when his lips close around your clit and he sucks enthusiastically, you feel like you’re about to collapse on top of him.

“Ah, juh, just like that, Kook,” you whimper as your hands tighten in his hair and your thighs shake, threatening to close around his head. His fingers feel like they’re pressing into your hips so hard that they might leave bruises but you can’t bring yourself to care when his mouth alone is making you feel so good.

You pull your hands away from his scalp and you lean forward involuntarily, your hands catching in the sheets to keep holding yourself up the best you can.

“Okay, fuck, okay, Jungkook, Jungkook,” you gasp, reluctantly and weakly lifting yourself off him to straddle his hips once more. “Not that that wasn’t good,” you mumble as you push your hair away from your face, and look down appreciatively at his face, shining with your wetness. He licks his lips contently and sits up again, props himself up on his elbows. “But I want your cock,” you finish.

Jungkook was feeling proud of himself for appearing to be doing so well for his first serious experience, but he supposes that you’re both old enough and you’re doing a well enough job telling him what you like that it doesn’t have to be as messy and terrible as others make it out to be.

It’s definitely not terrible as you sink down on his cock as soon you roll a condom on, and the warmth and tightness of your pussy is enough to take him to the edge of his climax again. “Feels so good,” he whimpers as you steady yourself with your hands on his chest and create a steady rhythm lifting and lowering yourself back down on his cock.

Jungkook’s hands are squeezing your thighs or your hips as you ride him, and he lets out a series of bated breaths and stuttering groans as you fuck him. You grab one of his hands and pull it down to press his fingers against your clit, letting out your own noise of satisfaction as he takes the initiative to press his thumb against the bud and rub it in tight circles.

He can feel his orgasm building up hotly in the pit of his stomach within a few minutes and he tells you this verbally: “I’m close.”

You’re pleased that you’re right behind him when he says this, your tummy tightening pleasantly with all the sensations coming down on you. “I’m, ah, I’m cumming, baby. Cum, Jungkook, you can cum,” you moan out, losing most of your ability to continue fucking yourself down on him.

Jungkook feels overwhelmed as you clench around him, his orgasm coming down on him like a tsunami at the same time, and even when you’re recovering, laying down next to him, his body still feels like it’s pulsing.

But you feel the same, and it takes you a minute to speak.

“How was that?”

Jungkook blinks once or twice as he registers your words and he lets out a content sigh. “I didn’t think it would be like that.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment… Why don’t you stay the night?”

[mor-beck-more-problems]

Arcanum || Morgan & Mercy

TIMING: Current

PARTIES: @cryxmercy & @mor-beck-more-problems

SUMMARY: Mercy and Morgan go witch hunting.

CONTAINS: Mild gore, blood poisoning

Morgan gave Mercy the details as soon as she realized the truth and before long they had everything they needed on her whereabouts. Jo Muscgraves was staying at the Haven Hotel, but of course that wasn’t satisfactory for the kind of butchery she’d been up to. So naturally she had rented out a storage unit for the month too. Under a freaking anagram, no less, like no one had ever heard of those before or would think twice about seeing Grace J Mussov on a list if they went looking. What kind of person thought a storage unit was really the place for doing whatever bullshit magic she was after? The backlash from any experiments were bound to affect anyone in the units nearby and potentially destroy anything unlucky enough to involve the wrong elements.

Morgan didn’t want to bother with knocking on her hotel door and playing nice. She wanted to go straight to the source and put an end to it all. She was taking the bolt cutters out of her bag when she realized the unit was already open. Her body went stiff with dread. This was what she wanted, she reminded herself. This was what Coraline deserved. Morgan exchanged a look with Mercy, trying to draw on some of her strength. The PI was a valkyrie, a fighter with more experience than anyone else she knew. And Morgan could still work her own will in the world, magic or not. She had to. “I’ll do the honors,” she muttered, giving Mercy an uneasy look.

She wasn’t sure what she’d expected to find, but white light and storage jars hadn’t been on her list. Jo had amassed more than your average witch’s cupboard. Along either wall that stretched deep into the storage complex were jars of herbs, flaked or ground rock, bottled elements in easy to work with states, and shelves of what must have been past experiments. Hybrid plants bowed and purpling with strain as they tried to grow in their new spliced state. Teeth from wolves and vampires thinned and warped into weapons or fused into impossible shapes Morgan could only imagine to be impossible. A pair of wings hung over the worktable at the end of the room, and on the surface itself, lit even brighter by a lamp, were the missing pieces of Coralaine’s body, most in jars ready to be worked with, but her scales were already fused with a piece of cotton, flaking and shriveled. Jo was in the middle of the room, wrestling with Marina Adams, Coraline’s older sister. Both women turned their heads at the sound of intruders. Morgan froze. Killing a witch was one thing; freeing a captive fae was another.

The strong preyed on the weak. That was the way of the world. Always had been. Always would be. It was the natural order. Be stronger than what wants to kill you... or die. Mercy knew this better than most. But she also knew that the laws of nature, the laws that most creatures that inhabited this world obeyed because they had no reason not to, and no choice otherwise, didn’t apply to humans. Or the supernatural. They killed because they could. Because they wanted to. Or because they held some antiquated notion that they had to. Not all, of course. An individual didn’t define them as a whole. But every species had evil in its ranks.

And the witch she had offered to help Morgan find was as evil as they came. So Mercy would have no qualms relieving her of the terrible burden of living. And thus ridding the world of one more evil creature that didn’t deserve the time she’d been given.

When they arrived at their destination, Mercy was fully ready for whatever came their way. She was just about to touch Morgan’s arm, to indicate that the doors she’d intended to cut open were already slightly ajar, but Morgan noticed. When she looked to Mercy, the Valkyrie gave her a nod of encouragement, and followed her inside.

What awaited them there was… horrific wasn’t the word for it. Despicable wasn’t right either. Monstrous was closer. But the only word that seemed to fit…. was evil. Mercy would be lying if she said this was the first time she’d seen something like this. Supernaturals being experimented on. Made into weapons. Killed and maimed and tortured for the sake of someone’s fucking curiousity. Or worse: profit. She wasn’t innocent of killing for money, but that was a lifetime ago now. And she’d never harmed the innocent or the weak. Not on purpose.

The wings across the back of the unit briefly drew Mercy’s eyes, but the struggling figures in the center of the room took precedence. Mercy glanced at Morgan as the other woman paused. “Courage.” She turned her eyes back to the witch and the young fae. Tilting her head curiously, Mercy started slowly forwards, peering at the shelves and their collection of items as if she were simply in the grocery store, trying to choose what to have for dinner. And not in the lair of a homicidal, psychopathic witch.

“You know, Jo - Can I call you Jo? - as much as I love the whole…” Mercy gestured vaguely. “- Island of Dr. Moreau vibe you got goin’ here…” She focused her gaze on the witch, hoping to hold her attention for as long as possible. “- I’m gonna have to ask you, from the bottom of my heart…. to stop being a murderous fucking cunt. And let the girl go.” Mercy’s easy smirk faded to something cold and unforgiving. Slowly, she pulled a small vial of dark blue liquid from her pocket and gave it a gentle rub with her thumb. The center bled a bright, angry red. “Or… I let my little friend here go. And we see if you new age witches still burn like the old ones did.”

Marina used the shift in the room to try to pull free. She twisted in Jo’s grip, dragging her feet over the edge of the circle to smudge it enough to be rendered useless. But something on Jo’s wrist (probably another fucking circle) made her go shrill with pain. She writhed, still pulling, wrenching as best she could. Morgan felt like a first class idiot for having assumed Jo was fae in the first place. She inched to the side, trying to close the distance between herself and Marina while Jo and Mercy had it out.

“You have no idea what you are getting yourselves into,” Jo said firmly, “Or that this ‘girl’--” she emphasized the word bitterly, “Is capable of. Turn around, walk away, and I’ll forget we crossed paths. Do I make myself perfectly clear?” she stomped her foot on the ground and sent out a ripple of power towards them. The ground went slick under Morgan and she fell hard, landing on her wrist, which snapped with an awful sound. Morgan grimaced and eased it back into place. Jo nodded with intrigue as she saw Morgan’s skin reshape itself with ease. “I’m not going to repeat myself,” she said evenly. “Trust me that this is not how it looks, and leave.”

Mercy stood calmly, keeping her eyes on the witch and the girl as Morgan slowly moved in the opposite direction. This was her show. Mercy was merely a player. Though it appeared the witch wasn’t going to take Mercy’s verbal bait. But for the moment, Mercy had her talking, bringing whatever spell had been in progress to a pause.

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Mercy huffed, pocketing the vial of blue liquid for now. “I know exactly what this girl is capable of.” Her eyes flicked to Marina, and it was to her that Mercy spoke this time. “I bet you’d like to drown her, wouldn’t you, little nøkke? Feast on her flesh for what she did to your sister?” But Jo sent out a wave of magic, turning the floor slick as ice beneath their feet. Mercy managed to catch herself before she went down completely, but still fell hard to her knees, hands splayed in front to steady herself. She saw Morgan go down as well, the woman’s wrist crunching unpleasantly. But she righted herself, so Mercy carefully pushed to her feet and turned her attention back to Jo.

Antagonizing the witch seemed like a bad idea, though the very air around Mercy hummed with the desire to do just that. But she couldn’t. Not while the young girl was still in the alchemist’s grasp. So maybe changing tactics would work. They needed time. And distraction. So Mercy could only hope that Morgan would catch on to what she was doing. And not think herself betrayed.

“Say I believe you.” Mercy’s tone was thoughtful, but cautious. “Say I believe that whatever this is,” She gestured towards Jo and Marina. “- it’s the girl that’s the real threat, and not you.” Mercy took a few steps closer, clasping her hands behind her back. “Say I turn around and leave, and forget about you and this place. Say I forget about all of it. And I make sure she forgets too.” Mercy tipped her head towards Morgan, while still holding the witch’s gaze. “What’s in it for me?” Another step, and Mercy’s fingers slipped idly beneath her jacket and curled around the hilt of a blade tucked into a sheath concealed across her back. “What can you offer me, Jo Muscgraves, so that I forget you ever existed? Because trust me when I say that whatever this girl is capable of… I’m capable of much, much worse.”

Jo had been in plenty of tight spots before. Taboo research to crack the code of organic supernatural magic would do that to you. So did obtaining live samples from murderous animals like the Adams girls. Jo really had been fond of them, to the point that it made her sick with guilt. After what they’d done in their hometown? Fae and beasts were just specimens with power they had no right to monopolize for themselves and use against humans. If Jo could just finish her work in peace, maybe she could find the key to sharing the wealth. But Marina was whimpering and moaning in a way that made Jo’s stomach twist, the circle was smudged, and the women/creatures before her were probably about to ruin everything. “You leave me, you let my work succeed, and you’ll be first in line. You--” She turned to Morgan, looking at the way her bones were rearranging themselves inside her skin. “You know about this world. You know what kind of power is being used to keep humans ignorant and underfoot. Don’t you think you deserve a piece of it too? Shouldn’t you be able to glamour yourself at will? To jump into the air and out of danger on wings?” Her gaze flitted back to Mercy, sizing her up. She might be less human than she looked, but Jo could hardly slip her some litmus right now to tell for sure. “What would you give in order to fly? To change your face, your form? This isn’t senseless, this is--”

“If it wasn’t senseless, you shouldn’t have dumped the girl who trusted you out with the trash!” Morgan snapped. “Shouldn’t have butchered her like a hack!” The words burst out of her before her mind could think of words like ‘stealthy’ and ‘careful’ and ‘no one will warn you you’re going to die this time’ could stop her. She staggered upright and lunged for Marina just as Jo sent a lightning streak of magic her way. The power crashed through her, but Morgan didn’t stop. She grabbed the girl’s hand and pulled. Maybe being a living dead girl was good for something after all.

“First in line for what?” Mercy asked, partly to keep Jo talking, partly out of a sense of morbid curiosity. Because Mercy - perhaps more than most - could empathize with the desire to know. The search for their origins, for the answer to how the abilities - the magic - possessed by supernatural (or preternatural) creatures worked, and where it came from, wasn’t a new quest. And Jo wasn’t the first person throughout history to go about their quest the wrong way. Through murder and butchery. Which was also something Mercy could understand. But not when it involved spilling innocent blood.

So Mercy watched Jo watch Morgan. She saw how the witch’s eyes lingered on the healing bones, the way the skin knitted itself back together. Mercy kept her hands behind her back, one wrapped around the blade that was now loose in it’s sheath but still hidden, and continued her slow pacing to try and flank the woman as Morgan moved opposite. She paused, however, when Jo addressed her again.

What would you give in order to fly?  

For just a moment, the Fury… considered. Of all the questions to ask… why that one? Mercy had wanted wings for close to 1200 years. It was one of the few things she felt she was owed after so long. Did Jo know something she didn’t? Did the witch have some uncanny sense of what might sway Mercy to let her live?

Almost everything. Mercy nearly spoke the words out loud. Her eyes flitted to the wings strung overhead. Where had they come from, she wondered. What creature had died, or more likely been killed, so that Jo could display them in such a vulgar, disrespectful way. And then offer them up as some sort of… reward. Mercy had a response waiting, but the witch’s words had fueled Morgan’s anger to a fever pitch and she reacted accordingly. Morgan lunged for the girl, ignoring the violent, sizzling magic that ripped through her body. The smell of sulfur and burnt flesh permeated the air, but the moment Morgan had hands on the girl, Mercy moved as well.

There was a soft ‘shick’ sound as the short-sword was pulled free. It spun in Mercy’s hand, a blur of motion as she brought it down with deadly accuracy, aiming to sever the witch’s hand at the wrist, and release the girl into Morgan’s arms.

Jo had only a second to see the blade coming and in that second one long equation fired in her head, racing to calculate the balance of her next move. Pull on the girl, hope she could be a shield. Maybe some scales would be damaged, maybe she preferred to remind them both how little her life was worth by testing the limits of her power personally, but her body would still be usable. She could risk some damage to her own body in an effort to keep Marina’s intact, and being injured might make the girl bold. She fought harder than Coraline, already, but that was a temporary state. She could let go, try to get her back later, or escape unharmed and try again in a different town. She had some contacts she could rely on, people who were counting on her to help them with her work. But how? And how did she know they wouldn’t chase her? Three supernaturals trapped in her vault, including a zombie? But Jo had a second, only a second, and in that time her body, not her mind, took control. She released Marina in time to catch the blade mid air. The sharp edge sliced into her palm for a moment, deep enough that she grunted with effort. Then the blade splashed down her sleeve and did away with any hope of keeping her circle charged, melted into water. “Nice try,” she said, and wound her fist up to land a punch. If she would get a hand on her, her tattoos could help her do the rest…

Marina crashed into Morgan as soon as she was let go. They toppled onto the slick floor together and scrambled to their knees. “There’s a car outside,” Morgan grunted. “Go. You’ll be safe inside.” She gave her a push as the girl scrambled to her feet. She flashed her teeth at Morgan. “Don’t touch me!” She spat, and staggered away. Morgan braced herself to her feet in time to realize Mercy might just be in some serious trouble if the tried hand to hand with an alchemist fast thinking enough to transmute at a moment’s notice. “Get back!” She reached to pull back her friend, but her mind hadn’t gotten around to calculating what might happen with a sudden distraction.

Over a millennia of life had given Mercy an advantage that most would never possess. Centuries upon centuries of time to hone the craft she had learned as a girl. So when the sword hit home, slicing through flesh and bone, Mercy wasn’t surprised. It was what she’d asked the blade to do, after all. But for all of the Fury’s deadly speed and accuracy, for all her confidence in those skills, when flesh and bone and blade connected because the witch caught Mercy’s sword with her hand - and in less than a moment the blade was gone, forge-hardened steel turned to nothing but a puddle of water -  Mercy was, for a heartbeat, well and truly surprised. Her eyes shot to the witch’s face as she spoke, but the single moment of shock seemed to be enough for Jo. Her fist caught Mercy square across the jaw. Mercy grunted, staggering slightly to the side and nearly slipping on the slick floor. But she righted herself almost immediately, her expression turning from shock to something else. Something that welcomed the faint taste of copper in her mouth... the hum of power in the air… the unexpected (and yes, thrilling) challenge of a witch that could change one element to another at will…

Mercy turned to face Jo again. “I can do better.”

Behind her, Mercy registered that Morgan was on her feet and shoving the girl towards the exit. She heard the girl scream and snatch away. She even heard Morgan’s voice calling out to her, felt the zombie’s hand on her arm, trying to pull Mercy away. “Go!” she told Morgan, though her eyes stayed on Jo. “Take the girl. This one doesn’t have the power to kill me. Do you?” Mercy taunted. Though she didn’t miss the circles inked onto the woman’s arms and the palms of her hands.

Jo didn’t squander her advantage. She closed in as Mercy stumbled, stabilized the floor with her boot, and grabbed her by the shoulders, pressing down good and hard with her tattooed palms. A flash of power passed from her body to the strange woman’s, unlocking her skin and her blood, flooding her with iron, enough to send her body into shock. She shoved her away and started to make a break for it. Right now she didn’t need a perfect kill. She needed to make sure she was alive to finish her work.

Morgan nearly left Mercy where she stood. She had what she needed and the valkyrie was a consenting adult. She could exercise her autonomy no matter what. But she saw Jo getting away, saw something bubbling under the surface of Mercy’s body and froze. She wanted to make the witch pay. She wanted Mercy to be okay. She wanted to stop her from grabbing Marina again and running off with her. She wanted, she wanted… Morgan’s hand shot out for the witch, but Jo was ready. Even Morgan’s dulled senses registered the pain of her flesh falling away from her bone. “Fuck!” She staggered back into Mercy, cradling her skeleton hand to her chest. That was gonna take a bit to heal.

A single moment of distraction cost Mercy dearly as Jo grabbed hold of the Fury’s shoulders. Mercy shot a hand out to grab the witch’s neck, while the other swung hard at the woman’s ribs. But that was as far as she got. She felt the sudden, sickening flow of magic as it was forced beneath her skin and into her blood. As it… changed something inside Mercy. Her healing factor pushed back instantly, trying to right what had so suddenly been thrown off-kilter. But the Fury still grunted at the sudden white-hot pain, like shards of glass soaked in acid  being forced through her veins. Mercy met Jo’s eyes for the span of a moment, the cold fury of the Valkyrie’s gaze both another taunt - Is this what you call power? - and a promise - This isn’t over. - just before she was shoved aside. She caught herself against the wall as her body started to slip into shock.

Fire laced through her belly, followed by nausea so intense she thought she might very well faint. It took all Mercy had not to double over. Everything hurt. Every movement, every breath, every heartbeat felt like it took a monumental effort. But then Morgan was being shoved towards her and the smell of burning flesh was in the air and Morgan was screaming…

Mercy tried to steady her as they collided, but she felt near to collapsing herself. Whatever Jo had done was making her feel weak. Tired. Underneath the pain and increasing systemic shock.  “Need to go...” Mercy said. “No good like this…” Mercy with her blood poisoned by magic and Morgan with her flesh peeled away from her bones. The Valkyrie coughed and spit red onto the ground. “We saved the girl. ‘S’what matters. For now…” Later, they would make Jo pay. For today. And for all the days before. But right now they were in no shape to continue. Live to fight another day and all that.

Morgan averted her eyes as the muscle and sinew around her skin stitched itself anew. On a fresh meal, it might have been done by now, but she was stretching out her feeding schedule to make sure she at least had raw strength going for her in this encounter. Apparently it hadn’t counted for much after all. At least she knew Mercy had seen worse. “Hey, you’re okay, right? You’ve made it twelve hundred years, a little hack job like whatever she did can’t knock you down now.” She braced Mercy against her shoulder and staggered out into the open air. There was no sign of Marina in the car. Figures. She probably wouldn’t have waited around in some stranger’s car to find out what would happen to her either. Wherever she’d gone, Morgan hoped she was safe. “I’d say at least you can sleep this off,” she said, laughing dryly, “But we both know that's gonna be a whole other hell of a time.”

[deafwestnewsies]

the most dangerous woman in new york

To be the best- that’s all he wanted. To help others, that’s all she needed. 

hades x persephone, orpheus x eurydice 

read on my ao3!

The room was so fucking fancy for no reason. Plush, green velvet couches with golden lining and carved feet, chests made of real pine and polished so much that it shone under the dim glow of the lamps swinging above them. She noticed that, just like she noticed everything else, that they all swung above their heads to the same gentle beat, an underground chant that no one could hear. Her head eventually matched the even sway of the song and helped her lose herself in the thoughts that swirled in her head, thick as the cigar smoke lazily pouring from the men at the doorways. Should they even be smoking? Seems like men of this stature should want to stay alert at all times- especially when they have New York’s most dangerous woman sitting right in front of them. Of course, they were employed by the city’s most dangerous man. They were probably pretty fearsome themselves. 

Eurydice, only Eurydice, no last name, was something of a legend around the streets of the lowly and working class. She had a habit of appearing out of thin air, walking into a union meeting unannounced, and spinning her magic tales of victory and justice that left her audiences enraptured. No one really knew where she came from or where she went, only that she was the best in town if you wanted someone to organize your strike- the truly lucky ones were simply picked by her, no pleading necessary. Now she sat perched on the edge of a plush green couch, heavy overcoat and dark circles under her eyes emphasizing the scrappy look that made her so effective on the streets. No one wanted to argue with the girl who was one hundred pounds soaking wet, demanding the rights of service workers in an even, calm voice. 

She was intercepted outside of a deli where she was buying a can of lemonade when a group of men asked her to get inside of a limo. After pouring the drink on one of the men’s expensive looking shoes and calling them “crazy sons of bitches,” they picked her up and placed her inside, ignoring her suddenly violent protests. It was a comical image, she was sure, her sitting with her arms crossed and shoulders raised high in between two men that looked straight out of the president’s secret service, black suits and all. They wouldn’t answer any of her many, many questions, and eventually the driver just turned up the radio to cover her shrill voice. 

Now inside, it was very evident to her where she was. It was plastered everywhere, not to mention decorating all of the flower bowls and men’s suit jacket lapels. A single red carnation etched into the wood of the wall, groups of them on the coffee table in a crystal vase. His name was Hades, only Hades, no last name. 

Mr. Hades was a mighty king, and he was always making some mighty big deals. 

Eurydice did not understand what he wanted from her. They did not run the same circles, Eurydice did honest work for people who deserved honest reward, and Hades was a thief, stealing from businesses that lived in fear of the other mobs in town. Hades capitalized upon their fear, and Eurydice used it to everyone else’s advantage. 

She ran through a list of things she had done recently- money she had taken from organizations, contracts she refused to sign, people she had done business with. If Hades had arguments with any of them, she could be in really hot water, and she couldn’t afford that right now. There was an apartment contract waiting to be signed and her landlord had made it very clear- he could ignore her line of work as long as she was not in trouble with the law. Eurydice had a feeling this would be enough for him to withdraw on his end of the lease, and she needed a more permanent place to stay. A home.

So there was nothing that she could think of in the moment, no one with any shady deals, when a man opened the door. “Eurydice?” He questioned, and she was on her feet in a flash. Simply gesturing her inside of the office doors, oak paneling with the same red flower carving, Eurydice noticed that he did not follow her into the room. 

Almost comically, a man sat in a high back chair spun to face the wall, and Eurydice expected him to turn around holding an evil white cat and a maniacal grin. When he made no movement at all, another man coughed slightly into a handkerchief, causing Eurydice to jump. This man sat tucked away in a corner, perched gently on a chair in a gray silk suit. He was old, gray hair neatly arranged in an afro on his head, wrinkles framing his dark skin, but old in a dignified way. In a way that Eurydice, although she knew it, felt it in her bones that she would not grow old, wanted to seem when people would look at her and think “Hmm. She is old.” He was the only other person in the room, and did not offer an explanation, just simply cleared his throat once more. “Hades, do not keep the girl waiting. You are here for her.” 

“Eurydice.” His slow drawl crept up her spine. “Thank you for joining me.” 

“Hades.”

He finally turned in his ridiculous chair. “I’ve heard quite a bit about you, young lady.” She bit her tongue and held back the insults. She hated being called young lady, woman, or girl. “Your work with the employees over at The World- most impressive. There are some men who will talk higher of you than their poker buddies, and I would consider than quite an accomplishment.” 

“Lee wasn’t hiring any woman on the investigative staff and because of that, their numbers were down. It’s simple economics, I don’t think I deserve any praise for that job.” The heat in her cheeks told her everything that she needed to know, she was blushing. Modesty had always been a difficult task. 

Another woman emerged from the shadows of the room, draped in brocaded green silk and black buckle shoes. Her low, gravelly chuckle filled the room as she stepped into the light. “It took more than that, don’t undermine yourself. Lee’s a stubborn son-of-a-bitch.” 

“Persephone-” Both men chastised her in unison. 

“Am I wrong?” She lazily held up a cigarette, smoking on the end like a loaded gun. 

“You’re not-” Eurydice spoke quickly. “He was terrible. Nearly took my left hand in exchange for the newest batch of female truck drivers.” 

Persephone draped herself across Hades’ lap. “Stubborn son-of-a-bitch. A lady knows.” Eurydice felt warm under the woman’s heavy gaze and wink, delivered directly from her husband’s lap. Persephone Ceres, a statuesque Greek woman with a face that looked drawn from a heavy hand, all sharp lines and smudged edges. She was famous for simply being her husband’s wife, a rich broad who came through city attractions and slept with all of the workers, men and women alike, and then returned home to her adoring husband who held a soft spot for only her. If Eurydice was nervous around Hades, she was downright terrified of Persephone. 

Hades cleared his throat, dropping his crossed knee to create a more comfortable spot for his wife. “We’ve brought you here for a very specific issue- one that’s proved to be quite challenging for us.” She bit back the snark that lived on her tongue, what’s too challenging for the almighty Hades? “I’m sure you’re aware of the Calliope Theater?” 

“Ye-e-es.” The hesitation in her voice was more than apparent. 

“There’s a strike being held by the musicians. They can’t perform without the orchestra and they’re also under our… special protection plan. Money, albeit from a theatre troupe, is still money, and it's as good as any in my eyes.” 

Eurydice scoffed. “Hire more musicians. I work with pre-existing unions, not the merry band of fools.” 

The words died in her throat when Hades’ gaze turned to ice and fire, locking onto her. A quiet sniffle from the corner reminded her of the second man, still un-introduced, and at least there would be witnesses to her murder. Although she had a feeling that these folks wouldn’t go running to the cops- hell, she wouldn’t either. She’d die a true strike worker’s death. 

“But I could always check it out.” Her chicken-shit soul winced as she conceded, but she was halfway through a really good book and didn’t want to be the character that died before the end came. 

“Delightful.” There was no delight in this man’s voice. He clapped his hands together. “Let’s talk business.” 

&&&

The older man’s name was Hermes Mercurius, “A conciliate of sorts,” he had chuckled. He wore blue, wing-tipped shoes that Eurydice couldn’t help but privately admire. After Hades had laid out the details of the situation in front of her, Eurydice saw the clear hole in his original problem.

“They just want stability,” she whispered, tracing her finger across the names of the orchestration line-up. 

“Pardon?” His voice boomed down her back. 

Her throat was cleared, a frightened squeak disguised by a cough. “Stability,” she offered. “They aren’t hired for every single production. Technically the management isn’t breaking any laws, the contract they’re under is about as shitty as every loading dock agreement, but that’s your answer. If your men hired them more often, there wouldn’t even be a strike to worry about.” She spread her fingers over the invisible map on the table, her mind filling in all the gaps. “Contracts happen to be my specialty. If you send me, I can fix your problem.” 

So Eurydice walked alongside Hermes, both of them taking the stroll over to Broadway and 4th, the block home to the Calliope Theater. She had tried to opt for the subway, but Hermes gently pulled her elbow away from the stairs and nodded towards the busy sidewalks. “I’m afraid I don’t take the subway,” he sniffed. “My nose is so temperamental.” Who the hell lives in New York and can’t take the subway? She grumbled in her head. And of course, in keeping with this bizarre expedition, she held her tongue. 

Thankfully the walk was short and the day was long, so the pair arrived with time to spare. Hermes took a moment to adjust his suit jacket (they were an awfully strange pairing to be seen in public together) and then walked through the arched doorway, Eurydice trailing hesitantly behind him. While she was seen as a warrior of the people, she was simply another loud mouthed girl with a passion for whatever issue was thrown in her lap. The jobs she received were usually working in labor-heavy areas, shipping docks and construction sites. This theater, while in need of a good dusting, was much fancier than what she usually got to work in. 

“Mr. Orpheus, I presume?” Hermes walked towards a group of people gathered together, a pile of instrument cases littering their feet. A tall, skinny boy with a sweep of dusty blonde hair looked up at the mention of his name, and leapt to his feet. He held out his hand, trembling only slightly, and Eurydice was charmed by the red bandana knotted around his neck. She knew what that symbol meant, she had adorned herself with the fabric more than once before, but she wouldn’t out a fellow resistance member in front of one of Hades’ men. They were both here to do a job, not talk politics and run the risk of getting killed. “This is Eurydice. She’ll be negotiating the contract between your group and the Fate sisters.” 

The boy raised an eyebrow. “We need to hear the terms before we sign anything. That’s why we wouldn’t do business with you in the first place, Hermes.” 

“You’d be the on-site orchestrations for every show, with the exception of travelling groups.” Eurydice blurted out. Orpheus’s curious eyebrow dropped and Hermes’ raised, both looking expectantly at her. “If... everything works out.” She was blushing. Damn. 

Orpheus scratched the back of his neck abashedly. “That sounds… really good. Let me introduce you to the team.” 

After pleasantries were exchanged, the group gathered around a small table where both Eurydice and Orpheus were sat. She knew that her contract she had drawn up was popular among the musicians by the nodding and jostling happening behind her, but she kept her eyes locked on the leader. If he found even one flaw the entire deal could be called off, and she hadn’t had dinner in days. Hades’ paycheck could buy her a damn steak if she wanted it. 

“Everything looks in order, no?” Hermes chimed in from the corner. 

“Yes.” Orpheus muttered under his breath, skimming the document one more time. He cleared his throat finally. “We’ll sign, but you also have to go through the old lady Fates. And they won’t be as easy as I am.”

Cocking an eyebrow, feeling much more relaxed, Eurydice leaned back in her chair. “Easy?” Now his face was stained red and Eurydice made a mental note to laugh later on. “We’ll take these to the Fates and Hermes here will contact you further about what will happen next. Thank you for your time, folks.” 

Hermes was already making his way towards the door when Orpheus called after her. “Eurydice? Can I talk to you for a second?” 

&&&

Ultimately she was very grateful for the fact that Hermes was a quiet man, because he didn’t ask her what the boy had to say to her on the walk back. She might’ve been a public speaker by trade, but she was a terrible liar and knew she would immediately blow the entire operation- the Resistance, that is. 

Anyone who understood what it was like to struggle in a city such as theirs understood what the Resistance was. A mass organization committing acts of disarray that negatively affected the larger companies and businesses, most of whom employed the very members. A modern day weapon of the weak attack, Eurydice had been involved since she was a teenager. Her specialty was rumors, spreading them like nasty vines across the city until they twisted around someone’s neck and left them worse then dead, ruined. As she travelled from union to union, her vicious and carefully placed words about a former boss, a union leader with no morals, a landlord only after your money, and suddenly people distrusted them with such a fervor they could go out of business. Eurydice was a valuable cog in this organization’s machine, and it seemed as if Orpheus had recognized her. 

“What are you doing?” He had asked, pulling on her hand forcefully and tugging her behind a corner. Once released, that same hand curled into a fist that she was prepared to throw. 

“What the hell do you mean?” She shot back. 

“Do the words ‘It sounds like drumming’ mean nothing to you?” 

Eurydice inhaled sharply, immediately looking behind her for Hermes. “Are you crazy? Not here!” 

There was a common identifier between members of the Resistance. One would ask ‘What’s that sound?’ and if the other replied with ‘It sounds like drumming,’ they knew that they were in safe company. So those words meant a great deal to her, especially in a moment where they could be killed for knowing them. 

“Why are you working with Hades? Just last month you were saying that he doesn’t-” 

She was this close to slapping a hand over his idiotic mouth. “I know what I said.” Eurydice hissed. “He didn’t exactly give me a choice. And what does it matter, you’re getting a good deal out of this- and wait a minute, you work somewhere under his protection!” Her eyes danced with fire, angry that this boy would accuse her of being a traitor when he was close to being one himself. 

“Work where you can get it,” he replied. “Being a musician doesn’t exactly equate to a strike leader.” 

Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, she drew her coat around her shoulders tighter. “Well, if you’re done yelling at me, I have to go. Hermes will get suspicious.” 

“I wasn’t yelling. I’m just making sure you’re safe. You… You are, right? Safe?” Orpheus’s face softened, his hands fiddling together. He looked bashful all of a sudden, embarrassed about the entire situation. 

“For the time being. If you keep throwing the damn words around though, I may not be.” She turned on her heel before stilling herself for a second. “If I don’t turn back up, you’ll tell them I was with Hades, won’t you?” Before she could hear his confirmation, Eurydice had walked away. 

The interaction kept playing back in her head. She was astonished that he had recognized her, that he had come up to her like that and so confidently talked about the most secret organization in the city. He was bold, bolder than most, and Eurydice couldn’t decide whether she admired it or found it stupid enough to get him killed. Before she had decided, they were back in front of the homely-looking restaurant entitled “Poseidon's Plate.” Inside were a few booths and a very empty looking register, but behind the kitchen doors was the offices of Hades and company, and Hermes and Eurydice found themselves once again in the lap of luxury. 

Hermes went to knock on the french-breasted door when it swung open, Persephone’s calculating smile waiting on the other side. “We’ve been waiting.” She purred, the sound making Eurydice shiver as she passed through the doors. Hades had forgone the dramatics and now sat plainly in his chair, scribbling down something in a handsome leather bound notebook. 

“Eurydice. Sit.” She followed his orders without a second thought, once again captured by his presence and the mild fear of being murdered. She had heard nasty rumors about the way he took care of his enemies. “So the contract business went well.” 

“Yes.” Her mouth was a desert. 

“Very good. I’m glad we could count on you.” He was still writing things down, almost at a worrisome pace. Persephone clucked her tongue from the corner, where she was perched on the arm of a red brocade couch. “We have one more thing to discuss. How long have you been involved with the Resistance?” 

If what she had felt before was fear, this was a new type of terror, one that seized her entire body and wiped her mind blank. The most dangerous woman in New York City now sat as the most vulnerable person in the world. She managed a few sputters, a weak denial, but Hades waved away her excuses. “I don’t like beating around the bush. We’re aware of your involvement with the group, and this is why you were chosen for this specific assignment. You’re smart, Eurydice. Far too smart to be working for those silly children who think spreading lies and stealing will ever make a change in the way this city is run. If you want to do something, to be something Eurydice,” He finally looked up from the notebook. Their eyes caught in a piercing gaze- one that Eurydice couldn’t help but be enraptured by. “I have a proposition for you. If you choose to accept, of course.” 

hello i haven’t written something for a musical in a long long while but i am back! from outer space! just walked in to find you here with that sad look upon your face i should’ve changed that stupid i should’ve thrown away the key

[outroshooky]

Swim In Your Divine

⇢ genre: drabble (hogwarts!au, slytherinjimin!au, gryffindorreader!au) (fluff)

⇢ pairing: park jimin x reader

⇢ word count: 1.7k

⇢ warnings: this is tooth-rottingly fluffy with a touch of angst; there’s brief swearing

⇢  a/n: i’ve wanted to write slytherin jimin for months now, but inspiration is a fickle bitch. i stared at my laptop for maybe an hour tonight, and all of a sudden  words came pouring out. to anyone right now who is on the verge of something unknown, who is doubting themselves and their abilities and feeling as though the world may very well come crashing down at any moment- this is for you. i hope, from my heart to yours, that it brings you comfort, even if only just for a moment.

Inhale.

Exhale.

Breath soft on your temple, steady in its beat, paced.

It’s dark in the round room, a single window allowing a block of moonlight to cut across stone tile, fractured in its age. It’s a cloudless night and the sister planet sings her silvery praises across the mountains that arch over the foundations of the castle, keeping her snug and warm in their embrace. Lately, however, it is as if they do not cradle but cage, for better or worse, from the outside world.

For war, war is coming.

It beats in the very thrum of your blood, in the keenness of your senses.

Something is about to happen.

Something that has the potential to be catastrophic, to tip the hourglass that has so carefully held the sands of destiny, slipping by grain by grain into place, exactly where they’re meant to be. The glass walls were shattered on the night that the wizarding world was changed forever, tilted on its axis by the boy with fate incarnate cut in a bolt scar across the breadth of his forehead. They were put back together with the passage of time, tension draining out of the world’s own shoulders as she too adjusted to change.

Change. A force that, on its own, has the power to shift tides. She waxes and wanes, pushes and pulls with her own mind, and it can feel as though we are completely alone, forced to rock back and forth at the mercy of an unseen higher power. We grab at the walls of our measly little dinghy and we are reminded of our place in the universe. How, in the grand scheme of time and the flow of the cosmos, the predicament that occupies our waking hours and haunts the landscape of our dreams is merely a ripple in the flood. A stone may skip across the water, even fall face-first and sink to the bottom, but with a second or two, the undulations slow, taking pause until the next rock finds itself skimmed along the great river. It is like this that we are borne along the current of life, sometimes in control of the pace, sometimes clutching for the sides of the boat with every ounce of power in us.

Your head rises and falls with the rhythm of his breathing, your ear resting comfortably above the constant, never failing drumbeat that is the pattern of life. One of his hands is loosely interlocked with yours, the other occupied with gentle caresses of your hip, your side- touches he needs not open his eyes for, because he knows your curves and your edges as well as he knows the flecked wood of his own wand.

Sometimes, our boat is spun in circles on the great tides. The water rushes and roars in our ears and below our pathetic little craft, threatening to spit and choke and overwhelm the sides. Like leaves we are caught in the eddies, but like leaves, we slip over the top of one current, spill into another, and then we are borne along our way just as if nothing had ever happened in the first place. It’s okay to go in circles, even if you need to rest for a while. It will not consume you forever.

Your frame is warm against his, the only blanket he needs. He’s in casual wear, the low cut of his shirt exposing honey-gold skin, and it’s here that you bury your face, nose the column of his neck. You could connect constellations with the freckles that dot his chest, run your knuckle along his throat to marvel at the radiance of him in simplistic, unadulterated adoration. He is beautiful, so beautiful that it hurts to think, to move, to breathe, to do anything other than savor this moment with him, the moonlight kissing the toes of your socked feet. You nuzzle into the crook of his shoulder, breathe deep the delicate notes of his body wash, but even with a faintly musky distraction, your mind still wanders. It lingers near the entrance to a shadowed labyrinth, trees of shade spearing a sickening inky-black twilight, and it is as if he can feel your internal trepidation through the way you shift against him. He hums, gritty and thick with sleep. “What time is it?”

“Late,” you murmur, fingers sliding up his wrist to trace his forearm. “If we’re caught up here, Snape will string me up on his dungeon wall, right next to the newts we’re supposed to be skinning on Tuesday.”

Jimin chuckles softly, brushing your forehead with lips as delicate as falling petals. “Well, you’re lucky that you’re up here with me. He likes me too much to actually bother with giving me detention.”

“Speak for yourself, mister Slytherin prefect.” You curl into Jimin, legs slung across his thigh. “He’s just itching to give any other prefect, much less a Gryffindor, an ass-whooping.”

His arms tighten around you. “Ah, but you have McGonagall on your side. I still don’t think she’s forgiven me for failing her final last year.”

“She’s forgiven you, love. I don’t think you’ve forgiven yourself,” you tease, tapping his nose with one digit. 

Jimin whines lowly and buries his face in the top of your head; the butterfly’s wings in your heart unfold to beat with a renewed passion. However, with a glance out the intricately carved windowsill at the hills and valleys, lingering with promises of threats to come, the beautiful creations crumple.

“Jimin…”

The glow of night frames your face, a visage more stunning to him than any charm or hex. His entire life he’s been enchanted by the mystery of magic, the secret beauty it holds in the palm of his hand. Yet, for all of his passion towards the craft he aims to perfect, it pales in comparison to the candle wick that burns bright with his affections towards you. You, a star set so deeply into the wonderful framework of the universe that he fears a world in which he ever has to live without the unfailing steadiness of you. Jimin knows exactly what thoughts coil around themselves in your brain like a pile of seething snakes, his emotional intuition that nearly had him sorted into Hufflepuff reading you like an open book.

He cradles the back of your neck with one hand; the butterfly curls into its protector. “I know.”

“You can feel it too?”

He nods slowly, then all at once. “Something is different with the world out there. The mountains don’t smile like they used to. They hunch, like they’re hunkering down.”

“But for what?” Your question rings into the open air, an owl winging its way into the night-time. “What if we have war again, Jimin?”

“War?” He raises an eyebrow.

“That’s what happened the last time the world shifted like this. I don’t know-” You cradle yourself in his arms, rubbing furiously. “I don’t know, but god, I’m fucking terrified.”

He pauses one beat, two. “It’s okay to be terrified.” His hands rub over yours, doing a better job to warm you up than you ever could. “I’m terrified too.” Jimin’s confession, as quiet as it is in the dead of the Astronomy Tower, rings as loud as the clapper of a tower bell in the small room. “But if it is war again, then we’ll be prepared for it. We have to be, and we will be.”

“But how?” You beg, turning to face him. “How, when nothing is certain and everything is thrumming with this hint of danger and fuck, I just-” You ramble on.

Jimin presses a single finger to your lips, hand sliding to cup your jaw. His eyes meet yours, onyx embers glowing bright with feeling. “You beautiful, silly girl.”

You draw back. “What?”

“My dear, you are the most capable person that I have ever met. You are courageous and determined and god forbid anything stand in your way, because you will crush those who speak out against you to dust. You have a soul that sings a song of fire, but that doesn’t mean you are consumed by it.” His thumb traces the apple of your cheek. “You are wonderful in your own way; you’re so genuinely good and I truly have no idea how I ended up in your boat as first-years on the way to the castle for the first time, but I am so glad that I did. It was the best choice I have ever made.” He emphasizes these things with a tenderness known to you, you alone, and with that the winged thing in your chest breaks free, the shackles on her wings shed in a flurry of movement.

“In a thousand universes, I will find you,” Jimin promises, the rawness of his words building brick after brick of reassurance. “In ten thousand stories, I will trip and fall into your timeline and stay by your side before I’m undoubtedly killed off in some majestic, knightly way. Change, war, whatever you want to call it- it will not tear you apart even if it tears us apart. The world does not deserve a soul like yours, breadcrumb, and she will be reluctant to let you slip the bonds of earth. She knows you’re a fighter; she sees that in you-” he wipes a tear from your cheek, spilling wet and hot. “-and she will not give up on you, even if you give up on yourself.”

“Jimin,” you choke, hands cupping his face. You say his name once, twice, over and over till it fades to a whisper on your lips. He’s crying too, you think, with the sheer honesty of it all; the threads of change are woven indeterminably, unchangingly, and there is nothing you can do to unravel the ethereal blanket. 

Change, war, whatever you want to call it, is coming.

But things will be okay.

You pull him closer, arms linked around the back of his neck, and he pulls you onto his lap, a girl with a soul that sings of fire and a heart that burns with the warmth of coals. 

Inhale.

Exhale.

A barn owl, perched atop the roof of the tower, hoots a low cry, and it echoes through the dark, ringing atop hill and treetop to settle on Hogwarts’ Great Lake, where a single leaf swirls atop a slow-moving current, the stem rippling the surface of the water.