#notice none of them have adam’s apples

[logan-the-artist]

commission me!

[aether-starlight]

Auscultation- Zayne

Pairing: Zayne x Reader

Warnings: None. Brief mention of poor eating habits.

Summary: You come to the hospital for a check-up regarding a past shoulder dislocation. 

Word Count: 1k

Note: This is a continuation of Mending, but can be read as a stand-alone.

Zayne was talking. Or at least, his mouth was moving. 

Instead of paying attention, you were being haunted, once again, by the memory of him. The ghost of his hand over your cheek, his perfume, and the tension of his proximity. 

You wondered if he could tell you were distracted, or if he noticed the entranced stare you gave his lips every once in a while. They reminded you of his breath brushing your ear, of his palm pressed over your eyes, cool and steady.

Until an unexpected statement broke through your fixation.

“I will need you to remove your jacket.” 

If you hadn’t known him for such a long time, the tense set of his jaw may have slipped your notice, just like the slight clearing of his throat. 

Was he angry you were distracted?

“Oh,” you breathed out. “Okay.”

It was a quick removal. After all, one of your arms was in a sling, so the leather jacket was only wrapped around your shoulder.

Having supposed something like this would be necessary —this wasn’t your first dislocation, unfortunately—, you had brought a top, which meant the only barrier between your joint and his hands was a menial string. 

And you were not nervous about that. Nope. Not at all.

You stifled a shiver at the low temperature of the room and sat on the stretcher in a swift motion—being a hunter had its perks, it made you agile, even with an injured arm.

“I’m going to examine the area,” Zayne’s voice was soft, almost breathless as his hands hovered over the space where your shoulder met your neck.

You smacked your lips together and felt yourself relax just a little. 

“Okay.” 

His fingers were as cold as the room, startling you when they gently pulled the string of your top out of the way. 

You gasped.

“Forgive me,” he said, avoiding your gaze at all costs. 

His hand hovered over your skin, giving you a second to adjust. 

“It’s fine, Doctor Zayne.” 

You quite liked calling him that, liked the nervous edge to his voice when you did.

“Does this hurt?” He pressed down the pads of his fingers with moderate force.

“Not really,” you hummed. If anything, it felt kind of nice.

Zayne cleared his throat once more, shifting his grip to your forearm. 

Your heart rushed at the slide of his skin over yours, goosebumps rising in its wake.  It reminded you of holding his hand, the way the scars on his knuckles had felt as you brushed your thumb over them.

“Your iron levels were below average in your last check-up. Have you been eating well?” He asked.

Now it was time for you to be nervous.

“Of course,” you lied, lowering your gaze to his tie. 

Like everything concerning him, it was freakishly neat, with an understated geometric pattern in shades of gray. 

He probably measured it with a ruler before buying it. You pictured it: his unforgiving focus, the concentrated tilt of his mouth as he gripped it between lithe fingers. 

Unfortunately, said focus was now drilling a hole into your head.

“Fine, I may have skipped meals, you know I forget to eat sometimes.” 

“I suppose I should be grateful you don’t forget to breathe,” he quipped. 

“You are so prickly, you know that?” 

You played with his stethoscope with your free hand, following the bob of his Adam’s apple with a satisfied smirk. 

“I’m not prickly,” he denied. “I’m serious. Does this hurt?”

He gently rotated your arm, slow in his movement.

“And I’m not? Doesn’t hurt.” 

He gave you a loaded look, resting your hand back on your lap.

You mercilessly stifled the disappointment that rose at the pit of your stomach when he let go.

“Wouldn’t be the first word I used to describe you, no.”

You pressed the stethoscope’s bell to his chest, earpieces already in place. 

“Wow, your heart is beating pretty fast, are you sure you’re not the one with the heart pro—“

“Would you quit that?” He interrupted, sounding somewhere between amused and irritated as he unwrapped your fingers from around the bell. “It’s not a toy.”

“Sorry,” you fidgeted with the tubing before passing it to him.

“What’s with you today?” 

“Can’t help it,” you beamed. “Too much coffee.” 

Zayne tucked a strand of your hair back, stifling a groan of frustration. He was a weak, weak man.

When his palm curled around the shell of your ear, cradling it like something precious, he surely knew abstaining from temptation was a lost cause.

It was now warm, absorbing the heat of your skin. As soon as you left, his hands would probably run back cold. 

Somehow, that thought made something unpleasant unfurl within your chest. It felt malleable and elastic, it wanted to stretch itself and pull him close.

“What am I going to do with you, hm?” He asked, voice low. 

The whole world could be crashing down outside, Wanderers running rampant, and you wouldn’t know.

You let out a stuttered breath.

“What do you want to do with me?” 

It was meant to come across as teasing but crumbled halfway into something nearly hopeful.

The heat in your eyes snapped Zayne out of it, clearing the cloudiness from the hematite and amber in his gaze.

He stepped back, returning to the haven of his desk, where he closed your file with finality.

“Your shoulder seems to be healing well. I recommend you watch it closely and let me know if any discomfort appears.” You had never heard his voice so close to shaking.

“Zayne.” You stood from the examination table, feeling on edge.

“That was unprofessional of me. I’m sorry.” 

“What is it?” You insisted.

There was something between you, a wall that he carefully built. 

It became eroded with every interaction, shortened into something almost letting you peek into the other side, but never quite enough.

Your chest ached and it was ironic because nowadays you couldn’t always tell if it was from emotion or the Protocore fragments in it.

Zayne sunk into his seat, pinching the bridge of his nose. The room’s temperature dropped, ice spreading against the glass of the window behind him.

“Zayne—” 

Your hand hovered by him, eager to provide any comfort you could offer, but his body language made you doubt. 

He was still hunched over himself, face turned away from you. The hand that wasn’t covering his face was closed in a fist, frost forming over his knuckles.

“Please…” he breathed out your name. “I need time.”

Your mind drifted back to when you fought that wanderer together, the way the whole room had frozen over afterward, his urgent insistence for you to leave.

“Okay,” you gave in, stumbling back. “Whatever it is, you know I’ll wait for you.”

[derpy-dogs-n-cats]

Longing

Main Masterlist

BNHA Masterlist

Yandere! Izuku Midoriya x GN! Reader.

Warnings: Somewhat suggestive themes.

Summary: After keeping your feelings quiet for so long for the sake of others, a breaking point is finally found.

W/C: 2.1k+

“The thing is, recently, my heart’s been all stirred up about something.” You hear an all too familiar voice say as you exit the kitchen with your bottle of water in hand. “It’s love!” Another of your classmates yells, having you stopping in your tracks with your eyes setting on the sight taking place in the living room of the dorms. “WHAT DID YOU SAY?! GLOVE?! SHOVE?! DOVE?! I’VE NEVER SEEN ONE, WHAT’S THAT?!” Uraraka shouts while waving her hands frantically.

“Who is it? Midoriya or Iida? You’re always hanging out with those two boys.” Mina continues to press all while you clench your teeth. “You’ve got it all wrong!” Uraraka denies while covering her face with her hands, resulting in her accidentally activating her quirk on herself and floating to the ceiling with what little of her cheeks she’s unable to cover being overly red, the sight having you knitting your brows in frustration.

This isn’t the first time her crush on Izuku was called out, nor is it the first time that you’re forced to swallow your words, having them burning at your throat like bile threatening to rise. You can’t even recall the last time you actually felt comfortable in your group of so called friends, having been put through too many conversations encouraging Uraraka with her crush on the sunshine classmate yet none to you.

They’ve all been too busy lending their support to her crush that she’s not even willing to admit yet is still willing to get possessive and jealous over, too busy to notice you looking at him similarly, too busy to notice that you were the first one to actually like him and get close to him. But it doesn’t matter that you’ve liked him for longer, because they’ve only known of Uraraka’s crush on Izuku, so if you were to say anything of your own crush of him…

So instead, you’re stuck unable to act on your feelings for him as to not have your ‘friends’ glare daggers at you, and have to leave it to someone who doesn’t even have the guts to admit her crush to her friends, let alone to the one she likes. You grip the bottle in your shaky hand and walk to the entrance of the dorms, wanting to leave the building for some fresh air instead. After shutting the door behind you, your ears fill with the sound of crickets instead, soon followed by a long sigh slowly leaving your mouth.

You move to sit at the steps that lead to the entrance while you unscrew the cap of the bottle, bringing it to your parted lips just as you’re about to sit only to once again stop in your tracks. “That’s not it, Iida looked different; bent his back I think. He’s so flexible, I can see his shape in my head…” Your eyes trail to Izuku on his knees bent over some of his notes and take notice of the thin layer of sweat coating him, no doubt having been practicing his moves.

“Hey.” You call out to him with your arm stretched towards him, offering him your water. His face immediately brightens from the neutral expression as soon as he sees you and stands on his feet to rush over to you and take the bottle. “Thank you so much.” He smiles at you with rosy cheeks, probably from the workout, and then downing almost the entire bottle, unknowingly giving you a show in a perfect side angle of his adam’s apple smoothly bobbing up and down.

Izuku finally brings the bottle back down and takes in a deep breath followed by a small awkward chuckle at how you just witnessed him almost choking by depriving himself of air in favor of water. “Sorry about that.” He apologizes with his blush deepening a few shades. “It’s okay, don’t-” You clear your throat. “Don’t worry about it.” You assure, averting your eyes to try and compose yourself after the front row seat of the show he just gave you.

“Oh, are you thirsty? There’s still some left.” He offers you back the bottle with innocent eyes, the blush on his cheeks fading away. “No- it’s okay, I just… thought you were thirsty, so I gave you the water.” You wave your hand dismissively. “It was… yours?” He asks. “Yea- don’t think about it too hard, I can just go get another one.” You try to assure him with a smile, starting to turn around. “No!” He blurts out, startling you.

“I mean, this was your bottle first and there’s still some left.” He looks away almost shyly while offering you back the bottle with about a quarter of water left as his cheeks start to feel warm again. You stare at the bottle briefly and look back at Izuku and take in his nervous form, seeing how he averts his eyes with pink cheeks, fiddles with his shirt with his empty hand and ever so slightly traces his shoe along the ground and suddenly, something buried deep beneath you finally takes hold.

You grab the bottle with confidence, something that has Izuku looking at you again, and bring it to your lips, tilting your head back with the same side angle he gave you and stare him down for a few seconds as you drink the water before closing your eyes and drinking the last of the water, taking in the taste of the last thing he ate, the piece of mint chocolate he had after dinner; the same mint he’s been having every day for the past few days now leaving a fresh taste on your tongue.

Finally, you bring the bottle back down and forward it to him with your face in a neutral expression aside from the way one of your brows is lightly raised with the corner of your lips ever so slightly turned upwards as if daring him to take it back. Izuku looks at you with his eyes faintly widened, a look in the emerald irises that you can’t quite recognize. “Do you…” He pauses in a low voice that contrasts his usually higher-pitched and softer voice.

“Want to… drink more water?” He suggests, his voice remaining low in an alluring tone, his half-lidded eyes staring deeply into yours, and if it weren’t for how warm you felt inside, you’d find his supposed double-meaning line funny rather than arousing. “Yeah…” The word leaves you in a breathy manner. “Wait, you have some…” His hand slowly reaches forward and holds the side of your face, his thumb touching the corner of your lips and smearing a drop of water along your skin before wiping it off.

He leaves his hand on your cheek and then slowly brings his other one to your other cheek, holding your face gently in his rough hands without breaking his gaze from you. “Don’t move.” He whispers, his face closing in on yours. You stare back at his eyes which seem darker than usual and let him lean in closer until his nose touches yours, your eyes barely open, and until he pulls you in with his hands to press his lips deeply into yours.

You breathe out a startled gasp at what you thought would be a soft gentle kiss instead being a deep one filled with an underlying passion heavier than you initially thought. While Izuku’s eyes easily fall shut into the kiss, yours get blown wide open at the unexpected roughness of the kiss, one of your hands reaching to the front of his shoulder to push lightly away only for one of his hands to immediately leave your face and grip at your wrist firmly, keeping you from pushing him away.

As if understanding the reason behind your startled reaction, he slows down the kiss but remains on the same level of passion as he continues to press his lips as deeply into yours, only slowing his movements enough for you to keep up. The slower pace helps lull you to a sense of comfort and eases you enough to have your eyes fluttering shut and start to move your lips along his, your softer movements contrasting his rougher ones, his own seeming almost desperate.

The hand holding at your wrist loosens its grip and slowly drags yours up to his face with you starting to catch up to his pace, your other hand rushing to wrap your arm around the expanse of his shoulders and pull him deeper in the kiss with your hand on the side of his jaw. Instinctively, his own hands waste no time rearranging themselves with one setting at the back of your head and his other arm wrapping around you, forearm pressed along the length of your back with his hand pressed against your upper back.

While he pulls your entire body into his, he fails to fight the urge to grip the back of your shirt in his rough hand, desperately wanting to feel the skin hiding beneath the cloth. As your lips continue to mesh together, you return the same desperate feeling by gripping at the back of his shoulder, feeling the strong muscles under the shirt urging you to further explore him.

You give in to the temptation and let your hand travel back along his shoulders, the back of his neck, and then over his front as you kiss, at this point both of you are breathing heavily into the kiss against each other, not wanting to break apart even to steady your breaths. With your hand pressed on his chest, feeling the muscle hiding under his shirt, the warmth in his chest reaches a scalding temperature that spreads throughout his body until it grows too scorching to handle.

The hand on your back leaves to your arm that keeps your hand pressed on his chest, pleased to feel your body remaining close to his of its own free will. You feel his hand give your arm a small squeeze before releasing it and following its length with his fingers just barely brushing along your skin, the feather-light grazing giving you goosebumps until his hand reaches your wrist once again, taking hold of it much more gently than last time in a silent cue to signal your departure.

Izuku finally breaks the kiss with a moan and pulls back, only enough to still have his lips skimming against yours as you rest your foreheads against each other. Your eyes open to gaze into one another briefly before closing again, instead focusing on catching your breaths, feeling your hot breaths colliding in small pants with his thumb tracing small patterns along the underside of your wrist, tenderly pressing over your fast pulse and giving a reassuring squeeze as if to help gently bring you back down from the kiss.

Your eyes part open to find his own already staring at you with half-lidded eyes and seeing someone other than the shy skittish boy you’d grown used to seeing, instead, seeing a confident young man staring back at you. “Where did you learn how to kiss like that?” You ask, your voice barely above a whisper to which he lets out a small breathy chuckle. “You know me… I just study a lot.” He smiles, the dark look in his eyes having faded away to a more tender one.

You smile at him in amusement with an airy chuckle of your own leaving you, not knowing if to assume him having read up on how to kiss or having seen others do so. “I haven’t kissed anyone else, if that’s what your wondering…” He says in a somewhat hopeful manner, unbeknownst to you how he hoped you having wanted to be his first kiss, and how he hopes to have been your first as well. “I…” You speak while pulling away enough to look at him properly, the smile on your face suddenly fading away.

Izuku’s smile falters after yours, taking in your line of sight set on something off to the side behind him and turning around to follow it, his eyes falling on the group of girls staring through the window with horror in their eyes as if offended at what just took place. His gaze shifts over to Mina holding a teary Uraraka and the way he feels you rip away from his hands pulls him back to reality.

Turning back around to you, he barely has time to register you running away from him. “No! Wait!” He shouts for you, voice back in his higher pitched tone and arms instinctively reaching out for you, seeing you disappear in the trees that surround the dorms, his body freezing in place with his arms staying open for you. “Please.” He utters, his vision starting to water with his hand trembling.

“Don’t leave me.”

[targaryen-dynasty]

Congrats on 2k!!! LOVEEEEE 💞 I WAS SO INDECISIVE OF WHAT I WANTED but I finally chose meleys

Can I get Aegon II with the prompt #87 “wanna fuck?”

This screams him fr.

TIPPING POINT.

Modern!Aegon II Targaryen x female Reader

WARNINGS: mentions of alcohol and intoxication

WORDS: 792

NOTES: Tysm, Mae!! This request was amazing, and it's so on point for him. 😭

Let's celebrate my milestone!

It’s the fifth jello shot you’re drowning with Helaena, the frat party around you in full throttle, and even before you’ve swallowed it down, you feel your inhibitions sinking lower and lower. What certainly doesn’t help is the skimpy, black dress you’re wearing, hugging your curves so well, it’s taken your confidence sky high. 

Helaena has left the dancefloor a few minutes ago to stalk off with none other than Jace Velaryon, the quarterback of Westeros’ greatest football team, the King’s Landing Commanders. It’s widely rumored he’s the owner of the teams largest packet, so you don’t begrudge her that she’s left you alone. She’s certainly earned herself a good fuck for the night. 

Swaying your hips to the rhythm of the music, though it’s not exactly the kind of music you usually listen to, the state of your tipsiness gets you off-balance for a moment, prompting you to take a step back to steady yourself, and bump into something very firm. 

“Easy there,” the gruff voice rings out, and knowing who it belongs to, you turn on your heels with a teasing grin. 

“Aeg,” you reply, meeting his eyes. 

He’s Helaena’s older brother, and ever since he’s switched teams to join the Oldtown Saints, people rarely see him around. It’s clear that his presence somewhat catches you by surprise. There hasn't been anything happening between the two of you, however, it has been more than dangerously close at more than one of Alicent Targaryen’s famous family dinners. 

His hand trails to your back, and he uses that grip to pull you against his side. You’re forced to hold onto him to steady yourself, but you don’t really mind. He’s charming, easy on the eyes, and there’s certainly worse company lingering around at the party. Jason Lannister, for example. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” he asks, his eyes flitting down to take in your body. His Adam's apple bobs slightly as he lets them linger on your exposed thighs, taking in the short skirt. 

You bring a hand to his chest, and turn yourself in his grasp so your body faces him now. “Enjoying myself?” you purr, licking your lips. “I always do when I have such fine company.” 

Aegon grins at your words, his eyes taking over a hooded look that has you squeeze your thighs for a moment. 

He dips his head forwards, bringing his lips on a level with your ears, the proximity allowing him to take in your scent and let his warm breath caress your skin. “Oh, is that so?” It feels as if his voice has become ten times huskier after your words, a thrill of arousal flickering up your spine. “Well, that makes two of us.”

You lick your lips yet again, and tilt your head forwards. You’re batting your eyelashes at him when you speak, the flirting game you’re playing is all too obvious now. “Good answer,” you muses, grinning mischievously. 

The tension between you two is thick enough to be cut with a knife, and you figure that with Hel away somewhere probably getting dicked down, you’re more than allowed to have some fun yourself. After all, she knows that there was a time you’ve lusted after Aegon. 

“I’m glad you’re so easily pleased,” he teases. It’s clear he’s noticed your attraction towards him, and even though his jab at your susceptible manner should make you feel slightly embarrassed, you can’t bring yourself to care; not when his scent and the warmth emanating off him makes your mind hazy with lust. 

He has his signature smirk splayed over his pouty lips, the one that sputters with cockiness and always has you biting your lips. 

His breathing is just as heavy as yours, and you giggle softly when you feel his hand squeezing your side, and it works to bring you closer towards him, pressing against him to escape the pinch of his fingers. 

Aegon scoffs, and with his head tilted forwards and his hooded, lilac eyes lingering on your lips, it’s his voice ringing out again. “Wanna fuck, sweetheart?” 

It’s as blunt as it can get, yet that’s exactly what you want. “God, yes,” you chuckle. “Two more minutes without you asking, and I would have jumped your bones right here and then.”

“Now, that’s what I call an enthusiastic answer,” he teases. “I know a spot.”

Your side is squeezed once again by him, before he intertwines your fingers and leads you through the crowd to the rooms upstairs. As far as you know, he doesn’t know any of the people belonging to the frat that hosts this party, yet you wouldn’t even care if he’d fuck you out in the open as long as it would give you what you want. Him. 

Small Taglist: @heimtathurs @valeskafics @black-dread @watercolorskyy @darylandbethfanforever9 @hypocritic-trash-baby @connorsui @moonlightfoxx @snowystark @fan-goddess @lovelykhaleesiii

[kanmom51]

Are you sure? Announcement

Ok, so waking up to this little surprise kind of made my day.

With this following:

The two of them in a nutshell. 🤣

And this is how it looks on the Big Hit IG account.

Curious how their names are actually placed next to the other, so that JK's name is next to JM and JM's name is next to JK's.

Curious is what I am going to say.

But back to that little surprise we got.

And before I get into it I want to stress, and this is a given by now, but I will say it once again: these are my observations and opinions. Opinions being the key word here.

Just before we begin on this little surprise clip we got, can someone explain why it's titled 'Are you sure?!' Announcement (from USA) when it actually looks like this was filmed when they were in Jeju?🤔

I'm sorry, but we afraid of watering down, were we?

They couldn't even edit out the gay from a 1:23 min. announcement...

And this is them trying really hard to be on their best behavior for less than a couple of minutes on camera with a script to follow. 🤣

What will we be getting when they are in a relaxed natural setting???

With so much stand alone Jikook content, no amount of editing will be able to hide their dynamics, what they are to each other, what they mean to each other.

I cannot wait!!!

I've already mentioned this in the reblog of JM's Muse numbers, but I am bringing this up again the 1:23!!!

Intentional. A choice. Not a coincidence.

Not when this just keeps to happen again and again and again and again and again... countless times.

What can I tell you? They just melt my heart.

The way I just know that this ended with shits and giggles.

You can see JK breaking into laughter as the camera cuts. That little bob of his Adam's apple, snickering away.

This wasn't an easy one for them to shoot. JK looked tired (end or start of a day filled with activity?), JM looked I don't want to say flustered at times, because that is a big word, but at the same time I don't know what word to use to describe him being a little off his game. JK did his stimming and a little of his swaying, and as much as they clearly had a script to follow (I will get to that), it felt like it was still a hard one to keep a straight face to (JM was the one that mainly faltered on that part). I guess that was also him finding it hard to stay stoic when JK is being adorable, and even harder to do when you have to read out a script describing something that as is has you a little anxious, and you are JM and think that every single thing that JK does is adorable.

🤣

This announcement was all about them and only them. We know how they are with these announcements with the other 5 around to buffer them. Not only was there none of that here, but this was about them, their show, their travels, their Tokyo (notice how very unalike themselves they were while talking about the Tokyo trip? Trying to be unemotional? Like reading out of a text - which they basically were). This show is not a big deal for them. It's a huge deal. And it's not about 'coming out' or not. This is the first time we are being allowed into their world, just them. Not a few minutes of interaction. A whole show seeing them in what JM described ups and downs (I am very curious to see what that's about). We have seen them in relaxed situations in the past. We had BV and ITS. But that has 7 members with interactions and dynamics amongst the lot. This is just JM and JK the whole time. And even with a shit ton of editing that will surely be going on, we are going to be getting a peek into THEM, and this is something that is a huge deal for them, even more so JM.

This is JM talking about the show, their moments that they will be sharing with us. And think that this is JM talking before Sapporo (not to mention Tokyo which looks like we aren't going to be getting any of in this show - shock - not really).

If there was an unscripted moment in this clip, I tend to think this might have been it. Other than that, I think that the two were pretty much on script.

Now let's address that one for a second shall we?

I do believe this announcement recording was scripted. They weren't doing bullet points. This was too hard for them to come up with off the top of their heads. Situation too charged. So there was a script, that could have even been written by themselves. There were things that needed to be said, points to keep to, especially if it was them having this all squeezed into a neat 1:23 minute clip. And just winging it, even more so on this specific subject matter was not an option (btw, most of their announcements are scripted, we see that, we know that, and this in that sense is no different, although again, this one was, in my opinion, way harder for them).

This clip we got to see today is them being on camera scripted for 1:23 minutes.

And this is them on camera without a script for basically the same amount of time (even less in the one frame).

This, my friends, is a good example as to why they needed not only dot points but an actual script to follow here, lol.

So, you understand now why this HAD to be scripted. Same reason why JM kept denying JK of his wish to have a live together.

Before continuing, just wanted to mention this as well:

The way JK is holding on to his hand (there was absolutely nothing wrong with it, this was just him holding himself back). That was the first thing I thought of when this clip started and JK was standing that way holding his hand. But then I looked again and what did I see? Nothing too significant, just the two mirroring each other in they way they are placing their hands, left hand over right. Not a biggie, just a cutie. At the start of the clip, as seen above. And towards the end of it, as seen below.

Cuties.

Back to the scripting... sorry for getting off track. It's not me it's them.🤣

And then you will say: "well, what's the difference between that (as in the announcement clip) and the show?" and to that I will reply:

"Everything".

The show is them being them, travelling, having fun doing different activities, relaxing, at times forgetting the cameras are even there. They get to be themselves without holding back. Because they know that if they are themselves too much then they have the editing to fall back on. Not to mention the difference between an announcement or a live where the full attention is on the audience, that's us (and if they don't have a script they tend to lose focus on us and focus on each other instead - same reason JM told us in the past why he didn't have JK over for his live - he would be paying attention to him instead of us), and the travel show where the attention is on them and their interactions. In that capacity they are supposed to forget the cameras are there. The cameras are there to document them being themselves, natural, with genuine interactions, which they will be, and we, my friends, are going to enjoy every single second of it.

Back to our announcement clip.

The amount of cuts and probably re-takes they needed here. And even with this obviously scripted message it was hard for them to stay grounded (yes, for both of them).

I see where Bunny is going with this and that cut does feel a heck a lot sus. And it is very possible that JK did say something that flustered JM. Although I do still believe that his "I'm not even sure it's ok to release this" isn't meant for something JK might have said while recording this clip (which had multiple cuts to it as they knew it would), but more so to what was referenced by them as "you'll see us as we are".

And yes, it appears like JM is pulling JK back into frame, but if you watch the full video you see that they were both kind of going in and out of it without JM bothering too much. So why here? First off, I think that JK was a little more jittery at this point, he was stimming more and doing a little of his swaying, which JM calms with a touch at times. Perhaps because this was the 'revealing' part? The one they get into a bit of the nitty gritty of the show? Idk.

But I don't think that was the only reason either. I think JM needed the touch at that moment as well. See how he moves from JK's arm to his nape holding on as he says "I'm not even sure it's ok to release this"... like he needed that reassurance himself as well at that moment.

Idk, to me it felt like JM hand placement was done not only to comfort JK but also himself.

And cut/edit, JM is not holding on to JK anymore...

I guess what I'm trying to convey is that we are used to JM being the one to calm JK, ground him. And although I do think that was the correct assumption in the past, I do think that since 2021 that has changed and JK is to JM as JM is to JK the person who calms or grounds them. JM told us as much in Letter.

We also got to see the two with one single hoop in their left ear.

Was this the same day, or did they just wear the hoops like that their whole Jeju getaway? JK in the photos from their meet up with Tae seems to have another earring in his right ear, so possibly not same day.

And will leave you with this as well to do with as you wish.

Ok, not going to talk your ears off, pun intended.

Just one more little secret to tell you, if I already have you here:

Shh...

Don't tell anybody else, this is between me and you...

These two...

They're in love.

Shh...

You didn't here it from me.

[jaythes1mp]

3939 words, 22942 characters, 232 sentences, 136 paragraphs, 15.7 pages.

Please don’t ask me what this is. I just started writing and didn’t fucking stop.

I’m a Hufflepuff. You may ask why I wrote a Ravenclaw reader then… Well, Simple. I’ve gone feral over Batfam fics with bird terms of endearments and wanted to write about a weak lil nerd who gets called bird.

TW — Dark. Theo’s mean, dick Theo. Yandere-ish. Non consensual touch, but not really bordering anything sexual, just implying that it would happen. & others. I’m not good at the trigger warnings.

GHOSTS

Theodore Nott x Male Reader

As you make your way down the long, deserted corridors of Hogwarts, the shadows stretch and creep in the soft moonlight. The air is thick with tension and anticipation, as if tales and secrets are whispered through the very stones themselves. Suddenly, you accidentally bump into a fellow student.

His voice, a deep, velvety whisper, breaks the silence.

“Are you afraid of ghosts?” Nott, a quiet and solitary figure, had spoken, startling you. He’d taken notice of your aversion to the shortcut many other students so carelessly wonder. Choosing to walk along the longest path lead away from any of the roaming undead creatures.

You find yourself caught off guard as you realize it's none other than Theodore Nott, known for his eerie silence and his dangerous connections. A Death Eater, a member of the dark lord's inner circle, and a man associated with fearsome tales of torture and blood supremacy. Your gaze travels up, taking in his imposing presence.

You run your fingers through your soft hair anxiously, the moonlight illuminating your face, making you look almost otherworldly. You lean back a little, taking in the sight of the notorious Nott. Having grown up hearing about the Nott family's dark legacy, the very presence of the boy in front of you is frightening.

Licking your chapped lips nervously, you struggle to find the words to answer Nott's question.

"…I am.” you finally admit, you know better than to lie to someone whose family is of such high status.

Theodore tilted his head, studying you from behind a mask of unreadable expressions. His eyes gleam in the moonlight, betraying no particular thoughts or feelings.

"Perché i fantasmi? Why?" Theo asked simply, crossing his arms. The Italian words slipping past his lips naturally. He leaned against the stone wall, seemingly at ease. His body was slender, but still stronger than his gaunt appearance suggested.

"What's so frightful about..." he paused, giving a little gesture that encompassed the vast castle around you, "Ghosts?"

You were not sure how to respond.

He continued to study you intently, taking in every detail, as if you were a puzzle to decipher. You could feel his eyes tracing your features, your body language, trying to discern your emotions.

His silence was unnerving.

You swallowed hard, your Adam’s apple bobbing as you become acutely aware of how dry your throat is. Licking your chapped lips for a second before speaking. “...Ghosts are the lingering spirits of the departed. They’re a reminder that death is... inescapable. That the line between life and death is fragile.”

You pause, his gaze unwavering, making you feel slightly uneasy.

“Ghosts are shrouded in mystery. The unanswered questions surrounding their existence make them frightening. Their presence serves as a reminder that there may be more to this world than we can comprehend, and that the boundaries between life and death are thinner and more complex than we realise.” You looked up, meeting his watercolour eyes. He looks almost amused.

A hint of a smile played on Theodore's lips. He was faintly amused by your answer. It was so eloquent and philosophical. Typical of a Ravenclaw to put such emphasis on the mystery and uncertainty surrounding ghosts.

"You speak as if you've studied the subject," he observed, tilting his head slightly. His eyes glinted in the dim light, his expression inscrutable.

You nibble at your bottom lip, your coloured eyes boring into the other boys. “... it’s hard not to.”

Theodore pushed himself off the wall, moving towards you. He was slender, yet there was a certain elegance in his movements. He moved with the grace of a predator, silent and fluid.

He stepped closer to you, his tall stature looming over you. His eyes had darkened, as if contemplating something. He studied your features once more, his gaze flickering over your face, your neck, almost like he inspecting your every blemish, every little detail.

You swallowed again, feeling strangely out of breath. His proximity was overwhelming, his silence making every moment feel like an eternity. It wasn’t until he spoke again, his voice barely above a whisper, that you realised he had moved closer still.

“You’re shaking,” he stated, his eyes never leaving your face. You hadn’t noticed, but in the cold air of the corridor, your body was trembling.

You felt the heat rise on your cheeks, realising how vulnerable you looked in front of him. You averted your eyes, trying to gather your composure.

He was so close, you could feel the heat radiating off his body, his scent- a blend of leather, parchment and spices- filling the air around you. “Are you scared?” he questioned, his voice low and quiet. “Of me?”

You dared to glance up at him, your eyes widening as you met his gaze. There was a hint of a smile on his lips, as if he found your fear amusing. Yet, there was something else in his expression- something you couldn't quite place. He tilted his head, studying you intently.

“You seem… interesting.” he murmured, his voice so low it was almost a whisper. His eyes raked over you once more, as if he was trying to see beneath the surface, to get a glimpse of your thoughts, your fears, your secrets.

You could feel his gaze burning into you, making you feel small and exposed. You found yourself unable to look away, your heart racing in your chest. You knew he was dangerous, a Death Eater, someone not to be trusted.

But there was something about him that drew you in, a magnetic pull that you couldn’t resist. His fluffy hair fell in soft waves over his forehead, and his eyes seemed to have captured the moonlight, making them appear almost liquid silver rather than watercolour green.

He stepped closer still, your bodies nearly touching. You could feel the warmth of his skin just inches from yours.

He reached out, his fingers brushing against your exposed skin, so softly it was barley a touch. You felt as if you couldn’t move, like being transfixed by a serpent. Nott’s cold fingers gently brushed a strand of hair off your face.

“Such soft skin…” he murmured, his eyes flickering over your features. He seemed almost mesmerised by you. He slowly moved his fingers over your jaw, his touch sending a shiver down your spine. “And you bite your lip so often. It’s… distracting.”

He chuckled softly, his breath warm against your cheek. “You’re so… fragile…” he said, his voice a mere whisper. “Like a perfect porcelain doll.”

His fingers continued their journey, tracing along your neck, causing you to suck in a sharp breath. He paused for a moment, his hand still resting on your skin. Thumb tracing over the Adam’s apple in your throat.

Theodore let out a soft, humorless chuckle as he observed you, his normally reserved demeanor replaced by a mixture of amusement and condescension.

"Look at you..." he began, his voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. "Trying to be all tough, trying to put on a show of bravery. But I can see right through you.”

He hummed, studying your shaking form with a critical eye. Then, his lips twisted into a sly smirk.

"You're just a scared piccolo uccello."

“... Trembling at the slightest touch,” he continued, his thumb slowly tracing up and down your neck. “Your heart’s racing. You’re practically quivering.”

His lips were hovering maddeningly close to your ear now, the whispered words sending a small shiver through you. He leaned in a bit closer, his hand sliding down your neck, towards your collar.

"Do you know what they do to pretty little birds like you in the wild?” He inquired.

His voice was almost a whisper, low and menacing, his fingers lightly tracing the buttons of your shirt. “They catch them, break their wings, and keep them in little cages. Trapped, completely at their mercy.”

He moved his hand further down, stopping just above your hip, his thumb rubbing slow circles against your shirt.

“Would you like that? To be my little pet?” he mused, his breath warm against your skin.

You tried to speak, but your mouth felt dry and your mind was in disarray. Your head was spinning, and your heart was racing so fast you feared it might explode.

His fingers curled around the waistband of your trousers, pulling you closer with a sudden jerk. You stumbled involuntarily, landing against his chest.

“You’d look stunning in a collar,” He murmured, his lips gently brushing against the shell of your ear. You felt his other hand grip your hip, as if to hold you in place. You could feel the heat of his body against yours, the hard press of his muscles.

The moment he grabbed your waistband and pulled you close, your mind became a maelstrom of confusion and panic. Your heart raced to an almost concerning pace, and your dry mouth made it impossible to form coherent words. Stumbling against his chest, you felt the heat of his breath against your ear as he murmured his suggestion.

The mere mention of a restriction around your neck, metaphorical or not, sent a shiver down your spine, and the firm grip on your hip left you feeling trapped. You were suddenly all too aware of the proximity of his body, the contour of his muscles pressing against your own.

“I...”

He chuckled quietly at your inability to form a coherent response, enjoying your evident distress. He didn’t give you time to regain your bearings, though. His fingers continued to explore, tracing the hem of your shirt, sliding underneath the loose fabric to gently brush against the skin of your hips.

“Don’t be shy.” he whispered, his voice taking on a patronizing tone. “Use your words, pretty boy.” He was mocking you.

Theo’s touch was both gentle and possessive, his fingers teasing the edges of your shirt, slowly slipping beneath the fabric to touch skin. Trailing over your hard stomach. The subtle mockery in his tone was like a knife to your pride, the taunt causing a mix of embarrassment and frustration to bubble up in your chest.

Clenching your jaw, you forced yourself to speak, the words coming out sharper than you intended.

"Don't call me that."

He paused for a moment, his eyes flickering with what looked like a hint of amusement. He seemed to be enjoying your growing irritation. His touch grew firmer, his hand wrapping around your hip, pulling you even closer.

Your protest seemed to amuse him even further. He chuckled again, his voice dripping with condescension.

“Why not?” he drawled, his breath hot on your ear. “Such a pretty little bird, fluttering its feathers when I’ve only just begun to touch it.”

He slowly tilted your chin up with his other hand, forcing you to look into his eyes, his gaze intense and unwavering.

“It’s a compliment,” he continued, his voice dropping to a rough whisper. “To call you pretty. It’s what you are- Pretty. Delicate. Fragile.”

His thumb brushed over your bottom lip, tracing the shape of it before he spoke again.

“Do you not like being called pretty, my pretty raven?”

His words hit you like a punch to the gut. Pretty. The word was simultaneously flattering and demeaning, highlighting the vulnerability you were trying so hard to hide. His thumb gently caressing your lip only served to emphasize it.

His touch was infuriatingly gentle, as if he was both mocking you and enjoying your discomfort. You took a deep breath, trying to maintain a sense of dignity, but his words, combined with his actions, were making it increasingly difficult.

“I’m not... fragile,” you mumbled, your voice sounding weaker than you would’ve liked.

His eyes darkened, amused by your weak protest. He took a step closer, his body now pressing against yours, pinning you against the wall. The smirk on his face grew, his voice lowering to a dangerously quiet level.

“Are you sure about that?” he murmured, his hand releasing your chin to slide down your chest, his fingers tracing your collarbone.

“You’re shaking. Heart’s racing. All from a little touch.”

The proximity of his body to yours, the feeling of being trapped between him and the wall, was overwhelming. His hand on your collarbone, tracing the shape as he spoke, only served to highlight your own physical reactions, your involuntary tremors and the fast pace of your heartbeat.

Feeling both humiliated and panicked, you tried to take a step back, but your back was already against the wall. There was nowhere to escape.

He didn’t give you the chance to escape, though. He took a step forward, effectively closing the already minimal space between you. His body was pressed against yours, his height and strength making you feel even more vulnerable.

His nose gently brushed against the side of your neck, as if he were breathing you in. His grip on your hip tightened.

“You’re so on edge, love...” he murmured. “Like a little bird, about to take flight. But there’s nowhere to go, is there?”

Feeling overwhelmed and increasingly frustrated by Nott's condescending tone and possessive touch, you finally manage to find your voice. Your words are sharp, your tone a mixture of indignance and determination.

Gritting your teeth, you practically hiss at him, your voice low and tight with barely suppressed anger.

"Let go."

His smirk widened as you finally gathered the courage to speak up. He leaned in closer, his body pressing more firmly against yours, effectively trapping you.

“Let go? But I’m not done playing with you yet, il mio uccellino.” he cooed, his thumb idly tracing the line of your happy trail. My little bird.

The condescension in his tone was almost patronizing, as if he was amused by your attempt to stand up to him.

He leaned in even closer, his lips almost touching your ear, his voice a hoarse whisper.

“You’re trying so hard to put up a brave face. But I can feel you trembling against me. I can practically hear your heart racing.”

He nipped the sensitive skin of your ear, his grip on your hip becoming almost painfully tight.

“Such bravado... It’s almost endearing, Raven.”

He lets out a soft hum, his dark eyes raking over your form, drinking in every detail. He takes a moment, then grins, a sly, mocking expression that irritates you even more.

He then speaks, his voice low and taunting.

"Come with me to my dorm, little raven. Wouldn’t want any wayward ghosts to snatch you away now, would we?”

Theodore’s soft hum seemed almost mocking, his gaze raking over your form with a sort of arrogant, detached interest. As if he was a cat toying with a small, frightened mouse.

The mention of ghosts and his dorm made you stiffen. You instinctively wanted to protest, but his amused tone and condescending smirk made you hesisitate. You loathed the idea of being lead somewhere private with him, a Death Eater, a dangerous person, yet the fear of being caught alone in the darkened halls was stronger.

He seemed to notice your hesitation, and chuckled softly to himself. He tilted his head slightly, his eyes narrowing as he observed your expression.

"Oh, don't look so afraid, darling," he murmured, his voice a low rasp. "I promise I won't bite. Not tonight, at least."

His hand slid from your hip to your lower back, a subtle, commanding pressure urging you to step forward.

You found yourself moving forward without much thought, the subtle pressure of his hand on your lower back guiding you towards the dungeons. The corridors were dimly lit, the shadows cast by the flickering torches making everything look eerie and ominous.

Nott walked beside you, his pace seemingly leisurely, his hands in his pockets as if this were all entirely casual. You could feel the weight of his gaze on you, watching your every move, taking note of every reaction. You were supposed to be smart, little raven.

The journey was quiet and tense. Every sound echoed too loudly through the dark halls, making everything feel even more foreboding. Nott said nothing, his eyes occasionally flicking from your face to the surroundings, keeping a look out for any passing professors or patrolling Prefects.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you reach the entrance into the dungeons. Nott placed his hand on the cold stone wall, and the hidden entrance to the Slytherin common room slid silently open.

You came to a halt, your gaze fixated on the open door before you. As you stood there, a sense of unease suddenly hit you like a punch to the gut. What were you doing? Why had you followed so blindly? The realization struck you, a sizzling sensation of revelation coursing through your veins.

Wait, did you actually... want this? A mix of embarrassment and confusion swirled within you, the thought both unexpected and, disturbingly, not entirely undesired.

Nott seemed to notice your hesitation, his sharp gaze watching your expression carefully. He raised an eyebrow as he observed your internal struggle, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"Having second thoughts, my little bird?" he teased, his voice a low, velvety murmur. He took a step towards you, closing the space between you. The scent of his cologne enveloped you - musk, expensive fabric, and pine.

"Too late to back out now."

He reached out, gently grasping your chin and tilting your face up to meet his gaze. His eyes were now a dark, smoldering black, filled with a mixture of curiosity and arrogance.

"You're mine now, il mio uccellino." he murmured, his voice dropping to a low whisper. "And I don’t let go of what's mine."

His fingers trailed over your jawline, leaving a trail of tingles in their wake.

The Slytherin stepped closer, the heat from his body radiating through the thin fabric of your clothes, his presence almost suffocating. He leaned in, the whisper of his breath against your ear sending a shiver down your spine.

"Come on. Don't be shy. I don't bite." he crooned, his lips brushing against your earlobe. "Well, not tonight, anyway. Unless you beg."

There was a predatory edge to his voice, a barely contained impatience hidden beneath his smooth tone. He wanted to get you into the dormitories and away from the corridors as soon as possible.

His hand slid down to your lower back, the pressure firmer now. "Let's keep moving, shall we?" he drawled, urging you forward.

He didn't give you an opportunity to argue or resist. He firmly guided you through the open entrance of the dorm, his grip on your lower back guiding you past the threshold into the dimly lit common room.

It was quiet down here, the only sounds coming from the soft bubbling of the water in the tank by the back wall, and the low chatter of other students lounging in the common area. A couple of fourth years glanced at you with mild curiosity, but quickly looked away when they spotted your escort.

Theo paid them no mind, his focus entirely on you. He gently propelled you towards the winding stone staircase, leading you up to the seventh year dormitories.

The silence between you was thick, the only sound being the soft pad of your footsteps on the cold stone. He was so close behind you that you could feel him against your back.

The climb up the stairs seemed to last an eternity, the silence only broken by your footsteps and the occasional creaking of the old stone walls. All too soon, you reached the top of the stairs and came to a halt.

Theodore stepped around you, brushing past you closely to reach the large oaken door leading into the seventh year boys' dormitories. He leaned against it with one hand, the other gesturing for you to enter.

Your breath hitches. ‘Should I run?’

You stood in front of the imposing door, your heart racing in your chest. A part of you wanted to turn and run, to escape the predicament you've unwittingly entered.

But something held you back. Maybe it was fear, maybe it was foolish curiosity. Or it might’ve been that strange, twisted part of you that secretly wanted this.

Nott watched you quietly, his gaze calculating as he observed your internal struggle. He seemed to see right through your indecision, his smirk growing more confident, more condescending.

"Are you going to just stand there, staring at the door, or are you going to come in?" he drawled, his voice dripping with arrogant amusement.

In a desperate attempt to lighten the mood, and maybe even distract yourself from the confusing realization, you tried to joke, but your voice trembled with desperation, making it clear that your words lacked any real conviction. You managed to stutter out a reply.

"... I'm not sure yet."

The Nott's smirk widened at your pathetic attempt to play coy. He pushed away from the door and stalked towards you, his gait predatory and confident.

He stopped a mere inch from you, towering over you with his greater height. His gaze softened slightly, his head tilting to the side as he studied your expression.

"Oh, my little bird," he murmured, his voice softer now. "You're a terrible liar."

He raised a hand, gently tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers trailing over your skin in a disturbingly intimate gesture.

"Deny it all you want," he whispered, leaning in so close that you could feel the warmth of his breath on your skin. "But I can see right through you."

He leaned even closer, his body pressing against yours, his words a low, sensual murmur whispered directly into your ear.

"You’re scared." he breathed, the smirk returning to his voice. "Confused. Aroused. And you don't even understand why. That's adorable, really.”

He hums, his pretty emerald eyes darken the longer he looks over your form. His hand running down your chest. “Don’t worry, my little wizard. I’ll take care of you.”

His voice was soft and almost comforting, like a dark, poisonous lullaby that wrapped around you like a suffocating embrace.

He stepped back slightly, just enough to look down at you. His gaze was still just as intense, but there was a softer edge to it now.

"So, will you come in, or will you run away?" he said, his tone still arrogant, but there was an underlying hint of hope in it. As if he actually wanted you to enter, even though he knew he could force you if he so desired.

You couldn't know if it was genuine or just another part of his manipulations, another cruel game. Either way, the choice was yours. Would you enter the dorm and give yourself to this boy with the beautiful viper eyes? Or would you run away, back into the dimly lit corridors filled with the creatures of the unknown wandering the dark hallways?

As you stood there, the silence between you two thick with tension, you wondered if his offer was genuine or just another part of his manipulations, another cruel game. The choice was laid out before you like a treacherous path, each step promising either the allure of a dangerous liaison or the safety of the unknown corridors.

With a pang of anxious uncertainty, you ask yourself if you're willing to give in to the boy with the beautiful viper eyes, knowing that what lies beyond might be more perilous than the ghosts prowling the night.

You had to ask yourself: Would you cross the threshold into the serpent's den, or flee from the enticing jaws of the beast?

The choice was yours, dear reader.

No use of y/n, no in-depth descriptive features.

Please feel free to send in requests.

What would you have chosen? Let me know in the comments or reply with a reblog!

[itstheghostofmypast]

A Quiet Woo

WooYoung x (f)Reader ft. Choi San

Summary: The five times Choi San had been blessed by the grace of a silenced Wooyoung.

Genre: Fluff (a tinge of angst)

Warnings: None

Networks: @cromernet

A/N: Black-haired Wooyoung got me dead.🫶 remember to show some love by 💗 and reblogs

If there was anyone who could claim to know Wooyoung better than he knew himself, it had to be Choi San. Choi San, his best friend, the sweet little giant who had seen more sides that Wooyoung than perhaps his parents had. Thus, when everyone around the group had been dotting on the second youngest for never shutting up, he watched the scene unfold. All of them sitting together after a long day, drinking together - though this time San had opted out of doing so- waiting for their Uber, so they could go back to their dorm. And what better way of waiting and making use of time than to tease Wooyoung?

"Not once, " Mingi placed down his shot glass, "Sober or drunk does he ever shut up, Wooyoung needs to talk."

"What! no~" He whined, resting his head on Hongjoong's shoulder, "I do not."

"It's like his mouth is an automatic machine." Jongho chuckled, earning an eager nod from Yunho, who was as tipsy as the rest of them.

"Sannie~" the subject of the matter whined, throwing a glare at him as if asking him to back him up. Perhaps he would have, would've narrated the five times his best friend had been left speechless or had chosen silence over words, for just as much as he was his best friend he also happened to be the only witness to the scene, more unintentionally than intentionally. But as much as he wanted to tell everyone, the drunk atmosphere would not have done justice to those heartfelt, innocent moments of Wooyoung's silence. So, smiling to himself he shook his head, eyes turned into little crescents as he mouthed, "Sorry Woo", thinking of the five times Wooyoung had spoken with his heart rather than his mouth;

1) The first time San had noticed Wooyoung go completely silent was when Y/N was introduced to the group. A new staff member, an intern at best, a makeup artist. He noticed how Wooyoung was eying her up and down, the way his Adam's apple bobbed as he gulped when she giggled at the way their manager had introduced her, claiming that she'd be rotated as per her training, so she wouldn't have any favourites. He could see how Wooyoung's brows creased at that statement, and somehow he just knew the younger one had wished to become her favourite. This was the most tamed he had seen his friend, which is why he had assumed when it came down to introductions, he would've been civil, but he was wrong for when it was his turn he shamelessly boasted, "Wooyoung, you can also call me your favourite. "earning a groan from everyone but her.

2) The second time San stumbled upon a silenced Wooyoung was in the middle of the night, after a late-night practice session with Yunho he had decided to head home, only to realise he had left his phone in the make-up room. Mumbling to himself he made his way to the room, hand about to twist the doorknob, only to stop when he heard a whine,

"Wooyoung, please, I said an honest opinion."

He really shouldn't have, but he did anyway, slowly creaking the door open to peek in, smiling to himself as he saw Wooyoung sitting on a leather chair in front of the mirror, the makeup lights casting a graceful glow on his smiling face. In front of him stood Y/N, her hair pushed back with a hair band, frowning at him with a makeup brush in hand. He watched her lean down, closer to his face and from the mirror he looked at Wooyoung's reflection, noticing how he instantly closed his eyes, letting her go about her business, stroking each eyelid with a tint.

"My internship is almost over and so is my probation and if it doesn't work out I can't continue anymore, I don't want to do that, I really like it here and-" she stopped mid-sentence when he grabbed her wrist gently, opening his eyes to look at her with a gentle, assuring smile. The two stared at each for for a solid minute, before she sighed, and nodded. No words were exchanged, but it felt like an entire conversation had taken place, one that starts on a topic as simple as your favourite colour and ends after a reached consensus about the meaning of life. Either way, he let go of her wrist as she placed down the brush, turning back around to pull off the clips out of his hair, fluffing it a bit and moving out of the way, gesturing to his reflection, asking him to critique her work. For a split second, he saw an unfamiliar expression flash across his best friend's face, one resembling the joy of a little boy, until it turned neutral, it was then that he realised that he was now staring at him, a brow quirked in irritants, the corners of his lips turned down.

"What's wrong? Is it bad?" her voice broke their stare off as Wooyoung instantly shook his head and San burst in, not wanting a misunderstanding to seep its way in.

"Hey" he smiled weakly, "I left my phone here" he explained himself, more to Wooyoung than her, who had begun to look for it, with a small I'll help you find it. But Wooyoung's glare didn't falter causing the older one to clear his throat, tipping his head in shame, a small apology before letting out a sweet, "Woah, Y/N were you practicing on Wooyoung?"

"Here it is- huh? Oh yes," she mumbled, turning around with the phone and handing it to him with a small smile as he smiled back gratefully before going over to his friend who seemed most displeased and confused, having not uttered a single word for a while now.

"It's really nice- I like how you made his eyes look soft." He gestured at the eye makeup, Wooyoung's eyes widened for a moment at the compliment, only to soften his gaze and avert it from the menacing, stupid, annoying intruder when he noticed her smile, noting San's effort to fix the situation.

"His eyes make him look like a bastard, it's really nice how you made him look like he isn't one." he chuckled before scurrying out of the room that was booming with her laughter. Wooyoung just rolled his eyes in return, frowning at the door San had made sure to close behind himself.

"How about we try another look, what do you say Woo?" his head snapped up at her, a small smile gracing his lips as he nodded, eyes meeting hers that swirled with a sense of determination that made his heart flutter and forced the words in his throat to clog up, only leaving him to nod up at her like a lost pup.

3) The third time San came across his best friend sitting in silence was initiated by him. It was on a tour, in the late hours of the night, where he was snuggled up against soft pillows, drifting off to wonderland until he was rudely awoken by the spawn of satan.

"What?" he hissed turning from the pillow that he had somewhat drooled over, squinting at the idiot he was to share his room with.

"Y/N's sad." the man whose glasses were at the tip of his nose, almost about to slip off stated as a matter of fact. Earning a groan, Wooyoung huffed and shoved him again, "What do I do? We were texting and she said something about her friends leaving her out of a get-together and she sounded sad" he exhaled in one breath.

San stared at him for two seconds and nodded, "And you want me to do what?"

"Advise obviously."

"Just talk to her."

"About?"

Sighing he sat up and rubbed his face groaning to himself, "No, scratch that, just listen to her, don't speak, just listen."

"Great, I'll call her here."

"Wait, Wooyoung no-"

That's exactly how San heard her talk in hushed whispers almost all night about how she felt left out, with her and the idiot sitting outside on the small balcony, their coffees forgotten and cold. Fortunately, her hushed tone helped him fall asleep and he applauded himself for telling Wooyoung to stay quiet because God forbid if that ass was speaking and voicing out his opinion then the whole district would've been awake. The last thing he remembers is wincing at the screeching of what he presumed was Wooyoung's chair closer to hers, and then he dozed off completely.

The next morning San had woken up to an ecstatic Wooyoung, one who slammed his hands on his shoulders and gleefully cheered, "If I wasn't into someone, I would've smooched ya." before waddling off, leaving him baffled much like the others around him.

4) The fourth time San had been blessed with a silenced or quiet Wooyoung was not when he was in the best of moods. In fact, he was ready to fight Wooyoung, which is why he barged in by slamming the younger one's bedroom door open, "YAH you ass-"

"Shhh!"

Frowning at the rude interruption, he noticed the presence of someone else, pausing to take in the scene before him. Wooyoung sitting on the bed with his legs stretched out, laptop on his blanketed thighs, the low buzz of the film acting as background noise. With his back pressed against the headboard, next to him was none other than Y/N, snuggled into his side, her cheek smushed against his chest, arms wrapped around him, fingers gripping onto the material of his cotton hoodie, as she laid half on top of him. Wooyoung lifted the arm that was wrapped around her waist, pressing his pointer finger to his lips, whispering, "She's asleep, get lost."

Huffing at the scene sat mumbled a "Lock the door next time" and walked out, somewhat glad that he hadn't woken her up and ruined their little moment.

5) The fifth time he had heard or witnessed Wooyoung go completely silent was not the most comfortable moment of his life. In fact, Choi San had to hide inside a cupboard in all his naked glory and pray to God Almighty that no one could hear him outside. This had happened almost two weeks after the fourth time, and since he had been unable to yell at Woo because the sweet giant had forgotten, he had decided to raid Wooyoung's closet, which he had and all he had to do was put on the clothes, knowing no one was at the dorm meant he hadn't locked the door- a major problem, for the moment he heard the door slam open he had hopped into the cupboard and closed it, hoping no one had seen him. He couldn't see anyone but he could hear someone, Y/N and from the way she was yelling at the top of her lungs, he could tell that Wooyoung was very much present there and had somehow managed to f*** up.

"Can you please let me explain!" she yelled, trying to grab onto him but he slipped away into his room not waiting for her at all. He really was in no mood to listen to anyone right now, even her, no- he wanted to yell at her, say some really terrible things to her, not because he meant them but because it would have made him feel a bit better, but then he would end up destroying the efforts he had put in for the past whole year into all this.

Closing the door behind her she watched him flop down on his gaming chair, eying her as he put on his headphones and turned to face the computer. The look he had just given her made her shiver, she didn't want him to find out the way he had, she wanted to sit with him in a quiet little corner, preferably with something sweet so she could tell him in peace and patiently.

She didn't think the manager would tell him before she could, that she was going to Hongjoong's designated make-up artist and stylist, which is why he had walked out of the practice room after the announcement of her permanence as their newest staff member, not even waiting to congratulate her like everyone else. Not even waiting for her to explain herself.

"Wooyoung, please listen to me" Sighing in defeat she moved closer to him, pulling his chair back as the wheels rolled onto the tiled floor, "Please, talk to me, say something, anything I can take it, I swear." gripping onto both arm rests she looked at him with pleading eyes, knowing that even with the headphones on he could hear her since he wasn't listening to anything. What scared her more than his silence was his hard stare, his glare filled with emotions she couldn't decipher and it scared her, made her think of the worst, so she had to get him to say something at least.

Contrary to her wishes, San who could only hear them, wished with his whole heart that his best friend wouldn't open his mouth. Keep his anger contained and his sharp tongue at bay, whatever this was, it would have been best for him to listen to her, rather than react without doing so.

Sitting on her knees in front of him she looked up at him with guilt-ridden eyes, placing a hand on either knee, his eyes widening at the position, only for him to sigh as he realised only someone as innocent-minded and desperate as her wouldn't even consider what kind of thoughts anyone walking in on them would have at the sight of them.

"Please Woo." her shaky voice did not match the way the pads of her fingers dug into his knees, firm and determined, "I- then just listen to me, please? I know this isn't what we discussed but please just hear me out. Take off the headphones, please."

Tilting his head back against the chair he took in a deep breath and closed his eyes, counting till ten, something Yeosang had once told him to do when he was too overstimulated by his own emotions.

"Woo i-" she paused when he exhaled reaching to remove his headpiece and placing his larger hands on hers, his palms warm and sweaty against the back of her hands, a sweet gesture compared to the frown that was accompanied by his glare, gesturing for her to continue.

Clearing her throat she nodded, grateful that he was willing to listen to her, "I know, I told you they were going to assign you to me and I said if I was offered I'd take your name but today, before my final interview session, the makeup artist before me had managed to say stuff about how close you and I were- like she didn't have any real proof and when Hongjoong was asked he refused any allegation but I- look, I told you this is my first ever job, a big step to my dream and your career is still relatively new and even though I cleared the interview, before it Hongjoong had texted me about this and had told me to be careful and," she paused to stand up, his eyes following her every move as she sat down on the edge of his bed, wanting him to turn to her, just to make sure he wad still listening and thank God he was, because as soon as she looked up from her lap she met with his soft gaze, one that made it seem like he almost looked guilty.

"So, when they did finally, officially hire me," she gave him a small bitter-sweet smile, "They asked me who I'd opt for and...I chose the person who chose to protect our relationship." Gripping the hem of her shirt she dipped her head in shame, clenching her eyes shut to avoid any tears, unsure if he would assume she was crying only to gain his pity, "I swear...Woo, I had no other option and I wanted to be the first person to tell you but I- I don't know I- and when you- I mean when they told you guys before I could and you" her entire frame shook in fear as her emotions finally got the best of her, alarming the male, a choked sob finally breaking past her lips in a pathetic cry, "I didn't know what else to do but then I saw you walked out." he reached forward for her hand only for her to raise it to quickly wipe away the tears, "I was so scared- I- I thought you would leave me- but I didn't want to lose my job either I'm sorry I sound so selfish, Im sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so-" her words coming out as a muffled cry when he slammed her against him, wrapping his arms around her, rubbing her back with one hand while the other pressed the back of her head onto his shoulder, letting her soak his hoodie with her tears and broken sobs, trying to calm her down as he placed a soft kiss on the crown of her head, whispering something even San couldn't hear through the cupboard but whatever it was, it was enough for her sobs to die down, turning into small whines.

San stared at Wooyoung argue with Mingi, it had been five years since then, and three since he had officially told the manager about his relationship with Y/N, though she willingly had refused to be moved on as her boyfriend's makeup artist, claiming that Hongjoong just had a better future in fashion and she was going to be his top makeup artist once he made it big- that and Wooyoung would distract her more than allowing her to work.

"Yah! Choi San!"

Luckily, after encounter number five, San had steered clear of Wooyoung's room and tried to avoid any situation that would lead him to be naked in another man's cupboard.

"San?"

"Hm?" jerked out of his thoughts he looked up to see Y/N, smiling down at him, "Your Uber is here, though you don't look very drunk." she gestured to everyone else as he nodded in return, motioning towards Wooyoung, "Please take him with you, I can take the rest in the Uber."

Nodding in return she placed her hand on Wooyoung's shoulder who was resting his forehead against the cool table, only to sit up frowning, wanting to yell at who interrupted his nap time.

"Wanna go home, big boy?" giggling she sat down on the stool, next to his, "Want help standing up?" she asked rubbing his back, raising an eyebrow at the way he was just smiling at her with a flushed face, his bang covering his eyes, only for them to flutter close at the feeling of her fingers ghosting over them to move them out of his face, styling his hair out of pure reflex.

"Aww, you really are too tired, no words at all?" pouting she pinched his nose, earning a giggle from him as he grabbed her wrists and placed her hands on both of his cheeks, using her hands to squish his face, looking at her expectantly.

Choi San who had managed to put everyone in the Uber, returned to grab Yunho's forgotten phone to find the two in yet again a very private moment. Groaning to himself he snatched the phone, startling Y/N who looked up at him, hands still pressed against her lover's warm face.

"You two should really leave me out of this," muttering he stomped away, somewhat irritated and somewhat happy about the thought of knowing he had now seen 6 moments where his best friend was simping and making a fool out of himself in silence.

"What's wrong with him?" she turned back to Wooyoung, squishing his face and laughing at the way he puckered his lips at her, quickly giving him a peck before standing up and pulling him up with her, leading him out of the dining hall, as he followed her like a love-struck puppy.

[butchpeace]

The Illusion

One of the worst things about transition was the constant anxiety about whether or not I was passing.

The constant fear that other people would perceive me as trans, or see me as female. Every day, checking my outfit to make sure none of my feminine qualities were noticeable. Every time I was in public, trying to shrink and hide myself, change the way I walked and talked to not attract suspicion. I didn't want to stand out, didn't want anyone to even think about me. A pathological need to blend in like a chameleon.

My dislike of my body wasn't made better by transition. It was made worse. It's the catch 22 of transition. You start out with some "dysphoria" – things you don't like about your body – so you start trying to pass as the opposite sex. Then you keep finding new things to be "dysphoric" about. It never ends, because the problem isn't solved. The obsessive anxiety will just continue to create problems where there weren't any before.

The other anxiety is about fitting into the illusion of a male identity. While many aspects of who I am fit into the idea of being a man, I’ve also had many interests and qualities and relationships with people over the years that are typically “female”. And really, all of my experiences were female experiences, because I was a female experiencing them. 

During transition, I felt that I wasn't able to fully be myself with most people. Not able to fully express who I am, who I was, and have them see all of me.

I became slowly more and more uncomfortable with living my life behind this mask.

Now, I’m working on accepting myself exactly as I am in this moment. It’s not easy. But I’m teaching myself that it’s okay to be someone who appears to be between-genders, at least right now. It’s okay that my hips are wide, and it’s okay that I have a flat chest. It’s okay that I have pretty eyes, and it’s okay that I have an Adam’s apple.

All these things can coexist, and it doesn’t make me ugly or unlovable, it just makes me me.

[thorin]

i wrote a little something that i have no idea if i'll continue, but i just really wanted to write a bagginshield fic through kíli's point of view, i thought it'd be fun. so enjoy!

tw: a bit of angst, mention of blood, but nothing too graphic, or excessive.

Contrary to popular belief, Kíli was not stupid.

He knew there'd been something going on between his uncle and Mr. Baggins the second he saw him break a smile —which was already suspicious— at Bilbo at the Carrock before hugging him —even more suspicious— after he'd defended his uncle from what was certain death.

Now don't get him wrong, he was more grateful to Bilbo than he could ever say. He saved Thorin's, and Fíli's, and his life too many times to count. He'd stayed after the battle had died down, and helped the healers, elven and dwarven alike, tend to the wounded and bury the fallen. He'd spent his entire days helping Bombur cook food at the makeshift camp they'd set at the base of the mountain, and when he wasn't cooking, he was stealing peaches and apples from the elves' food carts just for him and Fíli when they were bedridden. And he'd sit beside Thorin and wait for him to wake up when his nephews couldn't be there for him.

Kíli really liked Bilbo. He'd grown on him, all of them, truly. He just couldn't believe someone so small could be so brave, and feisty!

Which is why he was extremely confused when he'd heard Bilbo would be going home after Thorin had woken up.

His first reaction was that he felt abandoned. How could a member of their company simply choose to leave after all they'd been through together? He almost shouted his disagreement, before Fíli took his arm, shaking his head, and looked right at Bilbo: tear tracks on his dirty face. Maybe he wasn't leaving by choice.

He looked to his uncle, sat up against the wooden bedpost. His jaw was set and his adam's apple bobbed, as if it were physically hurting him to not speak up. His eyes were transfixed by Bilbo's back, like if he tried hard enough, his eyes could tell Bilbo all he wouldn't say.

Understanding flashed through Kíli's mind in a second. But it was too late. He tried speaking up again, aware of this new piece of information that he'd uncovered, but Thorin wouldn't have it. And it was frustrating Kíli greatly, because he'd never heard his uncle, his brave, tenacious uncle, speak with such a small, hoarse voice before, and say that if Bilbo wishes to leave, then he is free to go, with his blessing.

None of it rang true. How did no one notice? Why wasn't anyone saying anything?

By the time he'd looked at Bilbo again, he was already out of the tent, backpack on his shoulders.

Kíli was not proud of how he acted. He'd shouted at Thorin, painfully aware of his uncle's feeble health, but unable to contain his grief: he'd killed hundreds and seen another hundred killed, he'd almost lost his brother and uncle, and almost left his mother all alone in this world, and now his friend was leaving him, leaving them all. He'd fought relentlessly for months, why couldn't his uncle fight just a little longer, a little more? Why wouldn't he fight for his family like he said he always would?

Oin kicked Kíli out of the tent the second he saw Thorin's bandages become red. He was horrified. He'd never dream of hurting Thorin, but everything felt wrong. He'd never once cried on this journey. Not when his uncle was knocked unconscious by that foul orc, nor when he'd lost the rune stone given to him by his mother. But now he couldn't hold it in. It all came pouring out as someone —his brother, surely— held him, kneeled down on the ground. He wept until the stars came out.

────────

Months had passed ever since Azsâlul'abad was reclaimed. The harsh Eastern winter had finally given way to spring's sunshine rays, and although the mountain's citizens couldn't say they lived an easy life, they had food and a roof over their heads, which was more than they'd had for years. More and more dwarves were coming home from all over Middle-Earth, as word of Smaug's death was starting to spread. Reconstruction was slow, but steady, and life had shaped itself into a vibrant routine under the Lonely Mountain.

Kíli and Fíli had been crowned princes, and Thorin had been crowned king. His mother had finally come to join them on a caravan she lead from Shahrulbizad, and each member of the company was appointed to some sort of important position in the king's court. It was difficult for Kíli and his brother to get used to their new lives as royalty and the responsibilities that came along with it, and Kíli was grateful for any moment of respite he could have away from the eccentric Iron Hills nobles and Balin's royal classes. His days all looked the same, and yet he found he just couldn't get used to this new life.

Thorin, Kíli had noticed, clearly felt the same, though there was no running away for him. For any person that didn't know his uncle, they'd think he looked perfectly normal, if only a little stern. But Kíli knew that look. It was the same one he'd wear on his face when he attended feasts, sat at his throne, silent, while everybody around him drank and laughed. Or when he attended meetings with the court. Or when he watched Bilbo leave, a winter ago.

Kíli was not stupid. He saw how much his uncle suffered, and how much every single member of the company missed their friend. He missed Bilbo, too.

Which is why he sent a letter adressed to Bilbo Baggins of Bag End in the Shire, pretending to be Thorin II, King Under the Mountain, begging him to come back.

Surely that would solve everybody's problem. Right?

[nekropsii]

your staunch defense of transfeminine people in a community where we're so routinely mocked and sidelined does not go unnoticed or unappreciated.

you're doing a fantastic thing

Hey, I'm glad it's doing something!! It was... Kind of radicalizing realizing that no one's fucking normal, actually, they just say they are. But the really, really radicalizing thing - the thing that got me to start being very loud and aggressive about it all - was getting hit with wave after wave of misdirected Transmisogyny for two reasons...

I acknowledged Transfem reads of characters exist, and stated that I actually - gasp! - enjoy some of them, even over the popular Transmasc readings of the same characters. Getting hit with backlash for this was expected, but I didn't foresee how that would manifest. Several people - all self-reporting as trans men, weirdly - flooded my notes and inbox talking down to me, treating me like I'm stupid, and that I don't understand Transmasc struggles (I do, I just distinctly was not talking about them), and... Most vexingly, treating me like I'm a woman, and acknowledging me as such. By saying I, for example, preferred a Transfeminine reading of Dave over the popular Transmasculine one - by simply bringing up trans women in a conversation that didn't include putting them down - I had apparently branded myself as a stupid bimbo woman in their eyes that desperately needed mansplaining to. By discussing trans women positively, I had branded myself as an "other", and needed to be treated as such. I don't understand why it was all trans men doing this - you'd think they'd know better than to start misgendering and condescending people just because they started talking about feminism or trans rights. You'd think they'd understand meeting feminism with traumadumping is inappropriate.

I put a Cis Woman in my Webcomic, and she apparently wasn't feminine enough for some fucking people. Mind you, none of us on the Dev Team ever really thought that she was any degree of Masculine. She was never designed to be masculine, and she wasn't designed with transness in mind. We'd always referred to her internally as a cis woman. She just happens to have broad shoulders, narrow-ish hips, an Adam's apple, a bigger nose, and some serpentine heat pits on her face that happen to look like facial hair.

This is her. The uncanny, ugly, mannish freak who should've just been a boy. She looks normal! She's just a regular woman! Apparently, when you tell people that what human beings would identify as sex characteristics are totally randomized on an alien bug species because that alien bug species literally only has one sex, that's cool and based until it's applied to women? Even then, these are all traits that some normal human cis women have in real life. What's even more jarring is that almost all of the Transmisogyny thrown at me over Tejuri's appearance was done over fucking Cohost - the website people fled to specifically to escape Tumblr's Transmisogyny. The site that touts its pride in getting rid of all Transphobes. God.

I've noticed that people often preach their alliance not as a genuine statement but as a way to keep with the trends. A lot of reblogs on posts about loving trans women are viewing them as either a body ("loving trans women" taken as synonymous with wanting to have sex with them), an object ("loving trans women" taken as their value being synonymous with their romancability), or a token (saying that you "love trans women" is the latest political trend in progressive spheres, and professing this makes you look like a better person, even if you don't mean it). I've learned recently that a lot of people don't know anything about Queer Theory or Transfeminism. A lot of people apparently don't even realize Transfeminism exists. It's been a fucking wild past few months. Things I thought were just basic human decency and common sense apparently need to be stated, because it turns out my standards for what counts as "basic human decency" is a lot higher than most. Wild. @_@

Every time someone pulls this stupid horseshit on me, I get more annoying and more powerful. Nothing's gonna make me back down. At the end of the day, I have the privilege of being able to shut up and stop facing harassment. That's not a privilege trans women have. It's why true allies cannot stop fighting even when it does get a little hard. We can put the weapons down. They cannot.

Every now and then I think about the phrase "Trans Women are the Women of Women". Every day, it becomes more true.

[milliondollarwomen]

Well Hello

tom blyth x fem reader

word count 1.9k

mature content 18+

https://www.tumblr.com/daemonslover/740468521162653696/well-hello-part-2?source=share

Part 2 ^^^^^

overview: you meet him and the bar and he has to claim you.

hey y’all this is my first time writing like this! so please let me know if you guys liked it.

As you entered the bar, you could hear people talking and drinks clinking. A captivating figure was leaning casually on the counter. His commanding British accent drew you in right away. You decide to head over his way to see if he will notice you and as you stand next him waiting for the bartender he looks at you. "Well, hello," this mysterious man greets me. His smile is charming without being overly cheesy and he possesses dark curly hair that isn't too curly, along with the most stunning blue eyes you've ever laid eyes on. He was probably wondering why I did not react after I stared at him for a while.

"Hi" you responded not knowing what to do or how to act and all he did was say hello but already you felt anxious. "Are you from around here, love?" The way it slipped from his lips, love, was enough to make you melt. "No, I just moved here for graduate school. I'm going to NYU, and you?" When you told him you were a graduate student, he tilted his head slightly, which made you wonder what it was about that interested him; however, you refrained from making too much of it. "Ah well, congratulations, but yes, I am, and I've been here for quite some time,"

you were intrigued and wanted to learn more about him. As he spoke, he sipped from his cup; you couldn't help but notice the way he held it, how it landed on his lips, and how his Adam's apple bobbled as he swallowed. It was enough to make your mouth water. It was puzzling to you how a guy you had only known for five minutes could evoke such strong emotions in you. "so, what do you do for work or are you in school as well?"

With a look of surprise on his face, he shifted his gaze towards you. "I do a lot of things, none of which concern you, dove, but I would love to buy you a drink. So tell me all about yourself." you can't say that you blame him for avoiding the subject; after all, you are just an odd woman who wants to know where he works or if he's in school. In the course of your conversation, you told him that your undergraduate major was sociology, that you were lonely here, and that you had hoped to make some new friends if you ventured out more. After blabbing your mouth for the next 30 minutes, you realized how open you were to this man you had never met. He may be a murderer for all you know. His eyes pierced through you as you pondered why you told him these things about yourself, and then he assertively said, "Tell me what you're thinking about." It jolted you out of your nervous thoughts, "I just told you about myself and I have no idea who you are."

Unexpectedly, he grinned at you. To him, it seemed like you were exactly where he wanted you to be. Before you stepped next to him, Tom spotted you—even though he hadn't planned on meeting a woman tonight. He could tell you were a newcomer to the city. Your awkwardness when approaching the bartender for a drink and your rushed search for someone to talk to was clearly noticeable. He could see right through you. He took pleasure in the idea of dominating others, particularly those who sought out his presence and placed their trust in him. Claiming that you were lonely and in need of someone sparked his interest in you.

He grasped your fingers, entwined them, and rubbed circles around your thumb. "my love, let me apologize for my rudeness earlier I just don't open up to many people but you have made me feel comfortable." This made you feel relieved. "I'm a teacher, but I grew up in Birmingham, I moved here a couple years ago for the job and have loved it ever since" He realized he needed to exhibit his softer side to entice you back, and that is exactly what he did. The way your eyes softened when he discussed relocating here and teaching made him want to do unexplainable things to you. This was so easy for him all he had to do was throw the word love or dove around and you would cave.

After that, you gradually picked up on his flirting, massaging your thumb, and calling you pet names. With the courage of alcohol, you thought you could seize this opportunity. You move forward and whisper in his ear, "Well I think teachers are sexy," and you can see his jaw clench as he realizes how forward you are being with him. He glanced at you with passion before grabbing your waist. You were so close you feared you'd be unable to breathe. "Don't start something you can't finish," his aggressiveness made you weak in the knees. You began to feel the warmth rise between your legs. All it took was you to look at him like you were begging for him to be inside you. he grabbed your arm and lead you out of the bar. "you're coming home with me" this instantly made you regret your decision, you'd thought it be fun to tease him but you didn't think he would take you home.

Before he called a taxi, you looked at him with nervous eyes, "Honestly I should get going, I just moved in and need to get settled I-" before you could finish your sentence, he pulled you to the side and leaned into you, "Oh dove, you can't tease me in there and expect to get away with it" he lightly grabbed your throat and ran his hand up to rub his thumb across your mouth, "You're going to be a good girl okay?" This made you think this man is bad news, but his dominance over you gave you chills. "okay I'm sorry" was all you could manage out of your mouth.

When we arrived at his place, all you could see was how immaculate and tidy it was. Coming from college, most boys/men's homes are awful. After scanning the room, he observed how interested you were. Simply adoring you. You look over at him as he sits on the couch, straight passion in his eyes. This made you want to puke since you knew what he wanted. "Come here" he said, making your stomach drop. you cautiously approach him, and he places his hands on your shoulders and forces you to your knees. "Now I just met you and I understand you may not know how things work but teasing me and then trying to back out isn't going to work dove" As he reprimands you, he effortlessly puts his thumb into your mouth. He moves it around, gets wet, and rubs it against your lips. Your eyes were wide and large, ready for his next move. This makes your panties soaked for him.

He keeps a close eye on me, knowing that you have no idea what his next move will be. With that, he unbuckles his pants and removes his boxers, revealing that he is very well endowed. His cock is extremely hard for you. You observe how the veins transport so much blood to the tip. It's crimson with precum. "Now be a good girl and suck my cock," he demands. You shove him into your mouth and beginning to bob your head back and forth. He immediately begins to grunt as he watches you suck him off. "Fuck, you're being so good for me," he says. It makes your pussy ache for him. Looking up at him and seeing him appreciate your lips around him only makes you desire him more.

You get bored of giving him head, which makes him angry. He grabs the back of your head and fucks your mouth till you are unable to breathe. After he is pleased, he pulls you up and clutches your neck, "You will stop when I tell you to stop." This instills terror in your eyes, which turns him on and uses to fuel himself. He pushes you onto the couch and begins pulling your clothes off left and right. He hovers over you while you lay there naked and exposed. "Please touch me" you implore. "Please what?" he taunts you, as if your pussy isn't throbbing to be touched. "Please, sir, please touch me" and he begins to rub circles on your pussy, causing you to jerk and squirm. He enjoys witnessing how easy it is to fulfill you.

"Oh fuck, don't stop," you moan, and he promptly stops. "You don't tell me what to do, I've been too passive with you; you need to learn a lesson," he says as he flips you over and shoves his cock inside you. His size made you shout out, unable to adjust. After a few strokes, pleasure begins to surge in your stomach. "Sir, you feel so good." Those words caused him to slam into your tight pussy even harder. "You're such a good girl, taking all of me in your tight pussy." Hearing him speak to you in such a humiliating manner turned you on. His cock began to twitch inside you, eventually spilling all of his seed. He pulled out and watched you collapse on the couch, watching all of his sperm run out of your pussy.

"you are mine now"

Two weeks later

It had been two weeks since you last saw the man you met at the bar, and you still hadn't gotten his name. You awoke this morning ready to begin the day because it was your first day of graduate school. You were worried but eager to begin courses. You'd gotten up, showered, blow-dried, and styled your hair. You wanted to make a good first impression because you did not know anyone yet. You put on light makeup and got dressed.

Fortunately, when shopping for apartments, you discovered one close to campus, so you could walk to your first class. Today, you had your first class at 9:00 a.m. Walking through New York, you simply absorbed everything in, watching people and soaking up your surroundings. You had a feeling this was the right place to be, and you were excited for the journey to begin. When you arrived on campus, you entered the building and found your classroom. You arrived a little early, so you decided to walk in and take a seat. There were a few students already in the room.

The girl sitting next to you looked over and smiled, "Hi, my name is Emily," which let you relax even more. "Hi, my name is y/n." With that, we began talking about where we were from and what other classes we were attending. The class became larger, and it was finally time to begin. The professor strolled in and said the normal hey, my name is yada yada. After reviewing the curriculum and taking notes, a man walks in. "I'm sorry for being late, professor; it won't happen again." Before lifting your head, you knew that British voice. It made you shiver in your chair. "Sorry for the interruption, class. This is Tom Blyth; he's been working for me for two years and will be assisting this semester." You cautiously raise your head, hoping it's not who you think it is. And there's the man you met in the bar, smirking at you.

[lmanburgseulogy]

C!WILBUR INSANE POSTING. guess what. It’s actually about revival arc 😎 wahhoo

Sorry if it’s unorganized i’m too lazy to read it back 💯 plus probably none of you have the attention span to read this /j

LONG LONG POST UNDER CUT!

Brown mop of curls that are frizzy and uncared for, white streaks contrasting the rest. They stick out no matter how much he tries to hide them. When he gets so stressed he tugs at his hair, he notices that its gotten longer since when he actually tried to keep up with it. It wraps around the curves of his ears and turns upwards at the scruff of his neck.

There’s a deep wrinkle between his eyebrows, a reminding mark of a general with a heavy expression going into battle.

His eyes look unfocused over cracked glasses, it always seems like he’s not fully in the moment. Maybe he isn’t, not anymore. His gaze only settles on the ways everyone has changed, when he’s the same person who stood at that button. His absent stare contradicts the heavy smile lines gained years ago. He can’t remember the last time his smile reached that high. Feels awfully forced these days, even when he is happiest. He knows he doesn’t deserve it.

Wilbur struggles with bright lights after being in the dark so long in limbo. His head is always throbbing, and by noon it feels like a very tiny man is pushing his eyes right out from behind. Sometimes he gets too overstimulated and can’t think or stand straight. Tommy worried about him, but he can handle himself.

He has permanent eye bags from decades of sleepless nights. When he puts himself on the stage to be perceived by other’s judgmental stares he lathers thick foundation over the darkest parts. he knows they would notice if he covered all of it. They notice every little detail.

Wilbur’s nose is crooked and hooked at the end. A bump holds his glasses in place where freckles spot his skin. He loves the sunrise, he likes the marks it leaves for him. Maybe the light is finally reclaiming him.

His chin is covered in scratchy stubble. It’s thick and itchy, but his hands are to shaky to shave anymore. He learned that the hard way. He could get someone to do it for him, but who would? People always attack him in the small, minor inconveniences. They seem to hit wilbur harder than anyone else.

His Adam’s apple is very prominent. He gets it from his father.

Two white scars cross down his chest, making an “X.” They are surrounded by dark, unruly burns. When he gets the motivation to change his clothes, he thinks about a fallen country’s flag, which looks very similar to his own body. A part of him hates it, a part of him knows there was a time he would live the flag with pride. He almost hates that more. Sometimes he feels like all he is is the day he got those scars, since that’s all they see him for. He tries not to think about it. Never turns out well when he falls in the pit that is his mind.

*weight mentioned ahead, implied starving as a form of self harm

Wilbur often squishes the fat on his arms and stomach. He doesn’t remember a time where his belly or thighs were this soft, only his ribs casting jagged shadows down his front or his skin wrapped tightly over his bones. It didn’t take long for him to get tired of the potatoes in Pogtopia. Or, that’s what he told everyone when they gave him that look. Pity, he knew it to be. He didn’t need to be pitied, not when this is what they want him to be. A man falling apart, another dog in the ring.

Wilbur thought it was odd, his new shape and stretch marks. He didn’t really hate it though. He is almost comfortable in himself, even when most of his meals were barely choked down. Phil likes to reassure him the healing continues, and he knows his dad isn’t a liar of course, but Wilbur tends to spill his uncontrollable emotion into every good thing. It’s whatever.

Wilbur has lumbar scoliosis, so right before his hips his spine curves into a “C.”

He remembers his mother talking to Phil after his exam for it. Her voice was wound up tight, ranting to phil about how he might be paralyzed when he got older. He can’t remember his mother much, yet that memory is clear as day. He would love to tell her he’s moving about just fine, except for the constant pain. Tommy says it’s normal though. (yes lets ask tommy for medical advice. sure king)

Scars litter his body, all around. Some big, some small. Some major injuries like The Final Control Room, and some are minor losses not even worth noticing during battle. A lot he doesn’t remember. Which might be for the better.

His fingernails are short and chipped. He expects it to be from clawing at the walls in limbo, the scraping sound makes him shiver to think of.

When Wilbur hits his head on doorframes he remembers family photos of him sticking out like a sore thumb in the line. He had his growth spurt early, and got a little too tall for his liking. Techno joked he was 1/4 torso 3/4 leg. Easy to intimidate people though!

Wilbur’s bones ache a lot. They’re old things, he thinks when he hears the pop of his knees. Sometimes the aching gets so bad he can only sit, which is embarrasing when he has to plop down on the prime path while Tommy gives him the worry look again. One time Eret found him catching his breath by the museum, boy he hated that. He remembered the last time they saw each other, when he apologized. Kind of awkward. He wished he could run away, like during L’manburg. A slight smile on his face when the breeze swept his hair back, legs moving in rhythm against the ground. He’s pathetic now, not even able to walk away if he tried. Potions never numb it as much as he hopes.

[dollfxcx]

Hello!!

Pennywise x reader smut where he's trying to get past his heat?

But with the slight difference he has the clussy/female genitalia ( I just don't see to much content of him this way but I would love sm to see that bossy bottom clown! ) IF you're comfortable with that!!

I'm sorry it took so long but I had a bit of a writer's block. I had another request for penny in heat and wrote it but that one had, like, male genitalia and shit so I believe I overdid the heat topic back when I wrote that one.

I tried my best tho so I hope I won't disappoint 😔🙌🏻

TW: nsfw, otherwise none

Word count: (1.5k+)

You carefully observe yet another shiny rock that Pennywise has brought you. It is round and smooth, very similar to the other twenty that you have carefully placed inside a satin bag, which is now resting on your bedside table.

Another fine addition to your collection. It's been a week now that Pennywise has limited himself to doing three things, giving you rocks that are vaguely different from normal driveway pebbles (as already mentioned), dedicating himself to perfecting his nest and whining, which he is still doing as he curls up like a huge cat on his new round shaped bed. About a week ago he raided clothes that you no longer wear and out of them he built a nest, not particularly large but spacious enough to accommodate his enormous size which, as you can see, has grown in the last few minutes . Even if he's…well, whatever he is, the signs of what he's going through are as clear and recognizable as dawn. You get out of bed, your hands are shaking slightly, and you approach his nest, which is located in a corner of your room, squeezed between two walls, as if he wanted maximum protection, and in front of the mirror. Pennywise stares at you sideways, shifting slightly with a stifled moan to make room for you. He tries everything not to make eye contact with you, but he's forced to when you grab his legs and spread them, placing yourself between them.

"What's the problem?" you asked, running your fingertips up and down his inner thighs. If he wasn't in this situation you would never have dreamed of doing this, but you know very well that, no matter how hard he tries to hide it, your touch is all he needs right now. Pennywise growls softly, you hear it coming from deep in his chest like a rumble of thunder, but even if he bares his teeth in a (feigned) threatening way, you hardly flinch.

"Don't play dumb, you're smart, for a human." he mutters, his thighs shaking slightly under your touch. You smile at him and lean on your arms to reach his eye level. His golden irises melt to a deep blue with the blink of an eye, his lips part slightly, allowing you to see his buck teeth peek through them. His gaze is attentive, but not disinterested at all, it's as if he were asking you, praying you, to help him. Obviously he's too proud to do that, at least for now. You cup his cheeks, skin soft and warm from the heat that's making him feel so sick, desperate for release. He looks at you adoringly and if he wasn't the one who needed help, you'd beg him to fuck you right then and there. But this is not the right time. In one fluid motion, your hands slide to the back of his neck, working his clown costume collar to take it off as fast as possible. When you finally throw it across the room, you notice with pleasant surprise how flushed the skin of his neck is, his Adam's apple bobbing up and down every time he swallows expectantly. You chuckle as you slide your hand down his chest, slowly unbuttoning the rest of his suit, Pennywise throws his head back with a strangled whine.

"Stop that." he orders ruefully, his eyes half closed, and you immediately cease every movement. His head snaps up and he glares at you, you can't help but laugh at his needy reaction.

"What? You told me to stop and I did, Penny." you go back to work on his costume, finally pulling off the top part.

"Stop... teasing me." he clarifies, dragging the letter S, which vibrates on his tongue like the hiss of a snake.

"What if I don't?" you ask, pulling off, with a sharp tug, his shoes, which roll on the floor with a jingle of bells, Pennywise sighs heavily when your fingers start to lower the hem of his pants.

"I will c…hew your head off and f-feed on your flesssh." he almost stammers, involuntarily arching his back to make it easier for you to take off his pants. When the job is done, you can't help but sigh, his body is slender and pale, his crotch is plain, without any hint of genitals, just like what a Ken looks like.

"Mhh, though I'm sure that I'd be more useful to you alive than dead. Don't you think?" you whisper in his ear, pressing there a kiss as your lips slowly drift down his jaw and neck, occasionally sucking at the skin and leaving soft reddish spots on his milky white skin, as if a painter had dropped blobs of gouache on a brand new canvas. Pennywise squirms slightly at your constantly inflicted stirrings, his head hanging to one side like he's a broken puppet, completely at the mercy of your movements.

"Open up, pretty boy." you murmur as your knuckles tap lightly on the flesh of his crotch, action that makes him shiver further. Though you hear him growl at his now complete loss of command, he does as requested, he opens a thin slit more or less where his cock usually sits, beautifully flushed like the rest of his most sensitive parts, as you've noticed. 

You lick your lips briskly as your forefinger draws a line from his navel down to his slit, applying light pressure on it to dilate it a few millimeters. Pennywise squirms lazily, probably fighting his instinct to bite your hand off, his teeth sharpening slightly.

"You're being so good, it will all be over soon." you assure him while your forefinger sinks further into his slit, from which a thick and transparent fluid is leaking. You lick it off your fingers without ever ceasing to look into his eyes, he arches his back letting out a groan.

"Sit down for me, will you?" you suggest, but you don't wait for him to do it, you pull him by the arm and position yourself behind him.

"Now spread your legs." you murmur into his ear, you see him take a quick look at the mirror that's right in front of the both of you, the same mirror that's showing him from a perspective he's never seen himself from before. Your fingers return to his slit, which has opened further, as if he's inviting you, praying you, to fill it as soon as possible.

"Look at you, all wet for me. You want me this much?" you ask, your fingers insert themselves into him with a speed that takes his breath away, his head rests on your shoulder, a whimper trapped in his throat makes you throb, your thighs clench. Your fingers pump into him quickly, your thumb tracing slow circles around his clit. His lips are open wide, his jaw looks dislocated, so you stick two fingers into his mouth for him to suck on, to make him feel a little better. It seems to work as you feel him lapping at your fingertips, a light purr coming from his throat.

"Keep looking at us, don't take your eyes off yourself." you hiss in his ear, his legs suddenly and abruptly spasm as you increase the speed of your thrusts.

"I need you as much as you need me. Say it. Tell me you need me." you almost implore him while you kiss his neck, you then slither back onto your knees, in front of his body flushed by need, depriving him of any contact. Pennywise lets out a frustrated wail, his hips trembling and buckling in search of your magnanimity.

“I n…eed you” he then stammers, desperately seeking his release.

"Good boy." you compliment him, jerking your head down and allowing your tongue to dig into his warm, wet opening. Pennywise gasps and moans for the first time, it's a loud sound he's been holding back until now. You hum against him, your lips closing around his clit and sucking hard, and he's so overstimulated that, out of the corner of your eye, you see his claws getting sharper with every passing second. Then he says something you never expected. He says your name, once, twice, three times, over and over again like it's a mantra he needs to hold on to in order to keep himself from going crazy.

"Y/n, Y/n, Y/n... please." he gasps, his hair tousled and his eyes narrowed, his claws dug into the soft fabric of his nest as he cums hard, with a guttural sound that sounds like a cry, trembling feverishly under your tongue which is cleaning away every trace of him. When you sit back down, he can hardly look at you.

"Come on, it's not that bad, being fucked once in a while, right?" you tease him, cupping his face and kissing the tip of his nose, he grabs your hand and sucks your fingers needily.

"Need to feed." he briefs you, brows arched in concentration, seeking to savor your arousal and the release of him together.

"Whatever you need, Penny. Whatever you need."

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

The knife in the dark

Azriel's week: Day 3

Hosted by: @azrielappreciationweek

Word count: 700+

You woke up chained to the wall in some dark room that smelled like mold, urine, blood and fear. When your eyes got used to the dim light you could finally take a look around. Your stomach churned. You were in the dark dungeon. Panicking you pulled on shackles with all your strength, but not only they didn't move, the commotion drew attention of your kidnappers.

"Look who's up," one grinned. Together with his companion they stepped closer, malicious sneers on their faces. It was immediately clear to you that you wouldn't like what was to come. You wanted to move away from them, but shackles held you in place.

The other male grabbed your neck and squeezed. "Do you know why you are in this shit?" You shook your head while you were fighting for air. "You can thank your damn spymaster. If he hadn't interfered with our plans, none of this would happen to you," he barked. Now when they stood so close, you could recognise the uniforms of Autumn Court's guards. Whatever Azriel did, it really pissed them off.

"Our lord was angry, so angry," the first one said. "And when he gets angry, somebody dies."

"Now it's your turn," other one growled and they started to kick you and beat you with their big fists. You cried in pain, praying to Mother to stop it. When they finished with you, you hanged there on the edge of unconsciousness, bleeding from nose, mouth and numerous cuts, unable to breathe properly.

"How about we have fun with her before we finish her," one of them said.

"That's good idea," the other grunted. Their hands began to tear your clothes. If you could you would scream, plead, fight them, but you could only cry silently.

You were almost naked when you noticed a flash of a blade behind their backs. Soon after Azriel's face emerged from the darkness. He looked so furious and deadly that he could easily be mistaken for a god of vengeance, a fearsome angel of death. He was ready to kill and he did.

Armed only with his Truth-Teller and silent as night he launched on the males and finished them before they realised what's happening.

Two growing pools of blood wetted your feet. Relieved the horror was over, you swung on shackles, your consciousness slowly started to slip away.

"Hey," Azriel said softly. He cleaned his knife and put it away. Then he quickly untied you and lifted you up, clenching you to his broad chest. "Y/N, hey. Stay with me. Do you hear me?"

" 'hurts," you groaned.

"I know, sweetheart, I know and I'm so sorry," he sounded really hurt and worried. If the most calm and balanced person you knew, became so worried, your injuries had to be more severe than you thought. "Just hold on a little longer for me. Will you?"

You groaned again. Feeling your mind again slipping away, you tried to focus on the closest thing - his face, especially those beautiful hazel eyes with gold flecks that watched you worriedly.

Azriel gently placed a kiss to your hair and covering both of you in the shadows, he set out on his way out. Only then did you see the trigger. There were rivers of blood and death bodies everywhere along your way.

But you couldn't care less. He came to save you. He came for you. These words became your mantra, it helped you to stay clam. In his arms you felt safe.

You squinted against the bright daylight. He got you out of the dungeons without anybody noticing and raising alarm. The entire time his scarred hands held you firmly against his muscular chest heaving with effort.

You were listening to his strong and regular heartbeats, the sound like lullaby to your ears. The smell of cedar and mist was filling your nose. (Did he always smell so nice?) It was so soothing, it felt so right. You were still in great pain, but right now it all felt too distant to even think about it. And your heavy eyelids began to drop.

"Y/N, stay with me," he reminded you alarmed. And you did, locking eyes on his bouncing Adam's apple and tightened jaw, his high cheeks, full lips and lovely nose. (Was he always so handsome?) In that moment you would do anything for him.

As soon as it was possible, Azriel winnowed you to the medical hall in Velaris.

[munson-blurbs]

@corrodedcoffinfest Day 4: Eddie

Word Count: 619/Rating: T/Pairing: None/CW: bullying, brief violence/Tags: Eddie Munson, Jason Carver, Billy Hargrove, Tommy Hagan, Hawkins High 1985

Divider credit to @silkholland

“Watch it, Freak!”

Eddie Munson winces as he nearly collides with Tommy Hagan. The jock’s muscular form is no match for his scrawny one, and Eddie’s back smashes into the row of lockers. He grips his notebook tight, not willing to let anyone get a glimpse of the song lyrics inside. 

Especially not a jackass like Tommy Hagan. 

Tommy notices the way Eddie quickly draws the book to his chest, his growing smirk holding nothing but malice. “Whatcha got there?”

“Probably his list of potential sacrifices,” Billy Hargrove chimes in, snapping his gum loudly. Eddie’s never been so repulsed by the smell of spearmint in his life. “Do you just do animals? Or humans, too?”

“Shut up,” Eddie mutters under his breath. A hand reaches out and snatches the book from him. It doesn’t belong to Tommy or to Billy.

Jason Carver, a junior on the team and the heir apparent to Billy’s douchebag throne, cracks the book’s spine. “Aww, what do we have here? Love songs?” His cackle has Eddie shrinking into himself.

Tommy peers over his shoulder, reading the lyrics aloud. “Gonna fight every enemy, won’t let them get the best of me…what the fuck is this shit?” His eyes blaze with challenge when he stares at Eddie. “What enemies do you have? Y’know, besides a hairbrush?”

“I think the Freak’s writing songs about us.” Billy presses a hand to his heart. “I’m touched.”

A muscle twitches in Eddie’s jaw. Confirming what they already know would result in instant mortification, and they wouldn’t believe a lie anyway. He opts to stay silent, only grabbing for the notebook.

Tugging it just out of Eddie’s reach, Jason grins at him. “Sometimes I forget that your name isn’t actually ‘Freak.’” 

“Pretty sure it is,” Billy chimes in, “but we can ask his parents–oh, wait. He doesn’t have any. Just that weird-ass uncle.”

Red flashes before Eddie’s eyes. He’s used to the constant barrage of half-witted insults from guys who would certainly peak in high school, but he’ll be damned if they speak ill of Wayne.  

Tommy’s the first one to catch the sudden shift in Eddie’s composure, but he continues holding himself with unfounded confidence. “Guys, be careful–he might get sad and write another mean song about us.” He slips into baby talk, which only makes the others laugh harder.

Already bored with the taunting, Jason flings the notebook back in Eddie’s general direction; it hits the tile floor with an unceremonious thump. “Later, Freak.”

Before he can think better of it, Eddie’s hand shoots out and grabs the collar of Jason’s letterman jacket. The second he wraps his fingers around the fabric, he’s tugging him back with enough force to slam his head against a locker. “My name,” Eddie seethes, saliva pooling at the corners of his mouth, “is Eddie Munson. Eddie fucking Munson. You got that, jockstrap?”

Jason’s Adam’s apple bobs, filling Eddie with a strange sort of pride. Wielding his newfound courage, he hisses in the junior’s ear, “And if you ever say another fucking word about my uncle, I will personally nail your balls to the gym wall. Got it?”

“F-Fine, whatever.” Embarrassment blooms in Jason’s cheeks and neck, having been bested by Eddie. He wrangles out of Eddie’s grasp and retreats back to his friends, not bothering to even glance back. “Prick.”

Eddie allows himself to breathe, even if just for a moment. Is ‘Prick’ a better nickname than ‘Freak’? Not much, but he’ll take it, if it means shutting them up.

One day, he thinks as he shoves his lyric notebook back under his arm, everyone will know his name. His real name, with no whisper of The Freak attached.

Just him. Eddie Munson.

--

[ghosty-writer]

𝔗𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱

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Chapters one <chapter two> chapter three

Lucifer was known for being troubling and having crazy ideas that other older angles disagreed with and most of the time they just scolded him for it which caused all his brothers to laugh at him because of his ideas but he didn't care he just kept having more ideas. But one day God gathered all of his sons in a room to talk about new plans or ideas for the Garden of Eden and what they should do. all of Lucifer's brothers talked and gave ideas while he just stood quiet and didn't want to embarrass himself in front of his father for some reason. but he had to try even if his father didn't listen.

"I have an idea," Lucifer said as everyone went quiet and looked at him. he just froze as he saw his brothers look at him wondering what stiped idea he had now but his father looked at him with a smile. god knows that Lucifer has ideas and loves creating things.

"I think that there should be mortals, who have a living soul and take care of the earth" Lucifer explained to his father and brother but his brother looked at him with blank faces as they all looked at their father who had his hand on his chin as he was thinking.

"I think that's a good idea, my son to have mortal souls to roam around in the garden," Father said as he smiled and all of Lucifer's brothers looked at him shocked that he had a good idea inside of his other ridiculous idea that he has mentioned multiple time.

"Wow brother you finally have a good idea" Michael joked as the rest laughed but Lucifer laughed awkwardly.

since that day that he gave god the idea of mortals living in the Garden of Eden was gonna happen this may be the next chapter of a new world. but his idea may be his downfall without realizing

•••

he used to be so interested in this idea now he starting to hate it as time goes on. he remembers the day so clearly the day that Adam was created from clay that was formed from the earth and then dust from the ground that made him alive. Lucifer looked at Adam as he did as he tilted his head with wonder before he could say anything his eyes closed and was placed in the Garden of Eden. but god didn't just make the first man of his kind he also made two more others he made Lilith who was made the same as Adam but she was beautiful and he felt his heart made a weird feeling and didn't know how to deal with it so he left before god could make another creation.

now that god created the mortals most angels check up on them to see how they fit in the Garden of Eden. they all seemed fine but the problem was Lilith and Adam Adam wanted more control and Lilith didn't like that idea as he wanted her to be more submissive to him and follow his idea of things. Lucifer saw this happening and didn't like that he was treating Lilith like that so he started to hate him.

so he started to talk to Lilith and be her friend as he talked about his ideas and his dreams they started to get closer over time but what took his interest was when Lilith talked about her friend the other mortal that he hadn't seen so he went out to see this other mortal and how they looked like.

so here he was sitting on a tree in front of a waterfall watching the water flow as he ate an apple he was thinking about lots of things that he didn't notice that a person walked in the water. Lucifer snapped out of his thoughts as he saw a long brown hair girl with tan skin as if she had been in the sun most of the time but what caught his interest the most was his eye it was the hazel eye with a mixture of green and brown together.

she was playing in the water thrusting the water and swimming in the water most time she went under but this scared him because she was under the water for a long time and before he could do anything she would come back up and hide away before he could.

but the girl saw him well a blur of him as she emerged out of the water she swam to the surface and walked out of the lake she looked at the big apple tree and walked towards it.  Lucifer saw that she saw him and walked out of the lake he freaked out so he turned into a snake before she got closer.

when she got closer to the tree she saw that no one was there she walked around and tried to find the thing that she was but there was still nothing so she sat down on the ground look at the sun that was about to set but then she felt something slither against her arms

it was a white snake with red eyes and this made her curious so she picked it up from her arms and put it towards her face.

"you know you're the first snake that I've seen that is white and will allow me to touch them inside instead of trying to bite me," she said but her voice sounded angelic this made Lucifer feel some sort of way ignoring that feeling.

"you know it gets lonely sometimes I mean I have a twin brother whose name is Adam and my friend Lilith but they always do their things and Adam could be annoying with him always saying that he was the first man I could do anything," she said trying to mimic her brother but this made Lucifer laugh as he slithers around her hands but it also shock him that she was adam sister.

"but I guess that's how it is I'm meant to be like  Lilith was supposed to be with Adam and I know for sure that she does not like him because of how he acts but I guess being the first man just made his ego go sky high. and I don't know why god made me because I don't know what I meant for Honesty," she said as she vented her frustration she sighed Lucifer understood her feeling as he felt and wondered what he was meant to do other than being god son or an archangel.

"oh man I forgot to give you my name," she said with a bit of excitement but Lucifer tilted his snake hand why was she giving an animal her name he guessed she was just lonely.

"the name Aurora," She said with a smile on her face as she looked up at the sky that was not getting dark with the little sun that was out. but before she says anything someone calls her name.

"AURORA" She turned to see her brother run to her as she let go of the white snake and got up and saw that Adam was just in front of her.

"Adam what are doing here" Aurora said wondering why Adam was calling her and looking for her as it seemed that he was.

"Well I was looking for your dumb ass because it getting dark and I don't need you wandering around at night," he said as he buffs he also cross his arms.

"Plus you know how many places of spots I have to go just to find that shit was annoying" he continues on the little vant that he having. But she was surprised that he even remembered all the spots that she liked to be in.

"Wow, you remember all my spot what big brother you are" she teased him as walk away but Adam stood there with an annoyed face as he went to meet her.

As they left Lucifer turned into himself as he watched the two leaves. He now took a lot more interest in Adam's sister than him. And he gonna do everything just to make her smile and being her friend will be the first step towards the way out of loneliness.

The walk with Adam was quiet but all she had was complaint after complaint she sometimes wanted to bang her head on a tree. But before she could they always got to their little home where her, Adam, and Lilith lived.

"Lilith," Aurora said as she ran and hugged her. Lilith had long blonde hair and blue eyes but she was taller than her Lilith was around the height of Adam sightly but close enough while Aurora was the shortest of the three.

"Oh Aurora where have you been" Lilith said considered and wondering where she had been as she knew that she must been exploding.

"Of I been exploding around playing in the pond the one that has the waterfall," Aurora said as she sat near the fire that was already there.

"Yeah had to get this idiot before dark came" Adam rolled his eyes as he lay on the ground looking at the sky. But Lilith looked with an annoyed face as she rolled her eyes.

"Well I made food I got barriers and fish from the trap that we put," she said as she got up to take the fish out of the fire. Adam and Aurora instantly got up with the thought of food. This also caught Lilith's attention as she laughed at how similar they were.

As they were eating Lilith and Aurora sat together as they talked and giggled about different conversations

"Well I'm done for the day," Adam said as he got up from his spot and went to the little crafted spot that he considered his man cave that was next to two trees that held a sheet so no one could see.

"So what you done today Lilith" Aurora asks as she looks at with curiosity in her eyes. She smiled at her.

"Well I met up with a friend today he's one of the angels"  Lilith mentioned as she kept on talking about her friend. But Aurora doesn't think they are friends but more as it looks like she has feelings for him.

"Aurora he is so sweet and Charming he listens to every one of my problems and keeps talking about ideas and dreams" She mentioned this angle but all Aurora could do was smile as she saw that she was happy.

"I should bring you one day to meet him," Lilth said, taking Aurora by surprise that she even crosier her to meet him.

"I will be glad to meet the person who makes you smile" What she said made Lilith's face bright red and smiley.

"well that's great I asked him if he wants to meet you and also goodnight," Lilith said as she happily walked away into the little area that she made like how Adam did.

Now Aurora was there by herself like she was all the time as she looked at the sky with many stars that show in the sky. her mind went blank but when she saw a shooting star so closed her eyes as she made her wish.

"I wish there was someone for me" she whispered but as she opened her eyes the shooting star was gone she sighed and got up and walked to her little spot that she made next to a tree she lay on the hay bed a let her eyes close as her body fell into slumber.

but little did she know that the wish that she made might come true