#this is SO unedited and i wrote it in a HAZE but it's fun. it makes me sad so that's what counts

[azems-familiar]

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Final Fantasy XIV Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Emet-Selch/G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch Characters: Emet-Selch (Final Fantasy XIV), G'raha Tia | Crystal Exarch, Mentioned Named Warrior of Light - Character Additional Tags: Patch 5.0: Shadowbringers (Final Fantasy XIV), Canon Compliant, TECHNICALLY. YOU CAN'T SAY THIS DIDN'T HAPPEN, Angst, Enemies to Still Enemies But Now We're In Love. Oops!, First Kiss, how the FUCK do i tag this man, POV Emet-Selch (Final Fantasy XIV), Bittersweet, No One Is Happy Here And Everything Hurts, Mutual Pining Summary:

He has been a fool for quite some time, he knows, continuing his association with the Exarch despite their firm positions on either side of this conflict. And yet- for a time, he had nearly forgotten the game they play, the rules of it that mean nothing they do is sincere. How long has it been since he has felt any kind of desire to live, outside the duty he bears? How long has it been since any part of him was able to let go of his eternal exhaustion?

The Warriors of Light being summoned had been a much-needed return to reality.

Ah…but if that is true, then why is he here, in Syrcus Tower, during the first night in a century?

[delulustateofmind]

Ride it (Drabble)

Summary: Riding Azriel, like the filthy degenerate you are 😎

Warnings: Pure FILTH, no plot just smut, overstimulation, MEAN!Azriel, light bondage/shadow play, degradation, praise (if you squint), crying, if I miss any lemme know.

WC: Idk maybe like 1k, very short.

Also unedited because I am embarrassed that I even wrote this.

A/n: Thank you all for the love on the Eris fic, also this is unedited because I was lowkey embarrassed that I wrote this. ANYWAYS have fun :)

*** Minors Do not interact under the cut ***

Oh, how you ended up in this situation. The utter regret you felt last night for even drinking so much, that this morning, Azriel, your typically wonderful mate had you riding him like your life depended on it.

As the cocky bastard leaned back against the headboard with a bored expression on his face. This has been going on for the past hour since the two of you woke up. Your hands are tied behind your back using his shadows. A few of his shadows were constantly flicking and nipping at your perky nipples. His thumb lazily flicked your clit with his piercing gaze never leaving yours as you sat on his lap, his cock nestled within you as you tried your best to rock your hips. Your legs were sore from keeping them wide for so long as you used them to bounce on his fat cock. One of Azriel's scarred hands caressed your torso and then nestled onto your hips, pressing his cock deeper inside you as he lowered them.

"Got to take it all f'me baby," in a lazy tone. Earning another mewl from your lips as it pressed deeper inside your core. The sweat formed on your face as you whimpered, rocking your hips in rhythm with his. The way you would beg, please, please-I can't anymore.

Azriel would bite his lip from groaning, the way his cock would press into your gummy walls. The fucked out look you had on your face as he would gently rock your tired hips for you. Your gaze was now blurry from how much you've come the past hour or perhaps from all the tears covering your eyes.

Azriel was the type of male who loved to push you to a breaking point, loved to go past your limit till you were in tears. Of course, you both had a safe word, but you both knew you enjoyed him torturing you like this. Torture was one of his jobs after all.

"Is that all you can fit, baby? Oh you love how mean I am to you, don't you? That's so sick baby" He chuckled darkly, loving how your body would tremble as he would angle his hips so that when you bounced on his cock it would hit that sweet spot. Every. Single. Time. The way you panted and whimpered from the relentless abuse on your pussy.

"S' big, I can't fit it all love" Of course you could. He just made you by pressing your hips down earning a loud gasp with an O on your lips as he bottomed out. Creaming on his cock, Azriel bit his lip, his nails digging into your soft hips leaving crescent markings.

"Already fucked you dumb, slut? Can't even look at me in the eyes?" He mocked you with a grin, his voice rough and deep. When you would stop moving, Azriel's hips would move, keeping a rhythm, each move strong and calculated. Each time his cock bullied your sweet spot, you would mewl and cry out his name.

"Ah-too deep-Azzy" Moans relentlessly escaping your mouth, like you were confessing to every sin. How his shadows would slither around your body, reaching your clit and mercilessly playing with it until you would cry out. Creating yet another creamy mess.

"You're so tight," As Azriel groaned with a taunting grin on his face. He stopped moving his hips and using his hand held your chin firmly so you had to look at him. In your haze, you could see a smirk on his lips, his tone full of dark amusement. "Now, I want you to ride me like your life depends on that. Got it?"

Moving his hand from your chin to your hair as he tugged to expose your neck. Licking a wet stripe down it. You moved your hips in rhythm, the wet mess below you sticking to your thighs. His moans as you would take every inch of him inside you. Your legs quivering like his cock inside your pussy. His dark brows would furrow together as he held back from moving in rhythm with you.

"Cum for f'm-" He managed to groan out huskily as you moved your hips faster. Your gaze is set on the ceiling. "Oh fuck....Azriel...I'm going to...ah, oh gods" You were desperately trying to hold it all together, how could you not be a mess with your mate bullying your poor cunt like this? His load filled deep within you, the hot sticky ropes filling your cunt to the brim where he could see the white circle at the base of his cock.

"A reward, for my little whore, you don't mind me fucking that cum deeper in you, do you?" Azriel panted as you could feel him hardening yet again inside you as you fell onto his chest. "Don't worry baby, I'll do all the work this time."

[lovesatoru]

“KISSES, PLEASE!” + JJK

⋆ ࣪.*HOW THE JJK GUYS REACT TO YOU ASKING FOR KISSES!* ࣪.⋆

featuring: SATORU GOJO, YUJI ITADORI, MEGUMI FUSHIGURO & KENTO NANAMI

content: GN!READER, FLUFF

a/n: other than a little editing as i wrote, this is unedited so please forgive me for any errors! this was super fun to write and i hope you enjoy<3

SATORU GOJO

if you only had one word to describe how gojo looks right this very second, it would be gorgeous. With his absolutely gorgeous, white hair that you loved to run your fingers through, his gorgeous eyes that always look at you with the utmost amount of love in them, and his gorgeous hands that fit perfectly with yours. the list continues on and on, forever and ever.

you can feel your heart fluttering in your chest as you look at the man sat beside you on the couch. you’re leaned into his side, his arm lazily wrapped around you as he intently watches the movie on the tv. he’s watched this movie countless times, it being his absolute favorite of all time, but gojo still pays attention to every single second of it.

unknown to you, he feels your stare and decides to acknowledge it. ”(y/n), i know i’m so handsome,” he turns his head towards you, leaning towards you before he says “but staring is just so rude.”

“well, i just can’t help myself.” you lean in a little, faces just centimeters apart at this point. you lower your voice to a whisper, “you just took my breath away.”

he smirks a little at your playful, teasing. gojo brings his hand to your face, cupping you cheek with such delicacy. “baby, if you wanna kiss me all you gotta do is just ask,” he says with a cocky ‘lil shake of his head.

you hate to fuel that ever-growing ego of his, but you really, really want to feel his stupid, fucking lips on yours. "fine. satoru, can i please get some kisses?"

"i think i can do that," his voice barely above that of a whisper as he leans in and you're wrapping your arms around his neck, pulling him closer and closer, not wanting there to even be an inch between the two of you.

his tongue slips into your mouth, making you lose your ability to think about anything other than gojo. the world around you forgotten in a lovesick haze as nothing could be nearly as important as kissing him. something about the feeling of his hand on your cheek makes you feel so safe and so loved.

he finally pulls away but you chase his lips, placing another gentle kiss on them. your heart races just like it did the first time he kissed you.

"satisfied?" he winks with a boyish grin on his face.

"nope. i think i might need some more."

KENTO NANAMI

you hear the sound of nanami’s car pulling up and you quickly whip your head towards the noise. it’s embarassing how fast you had made it to the front door, absolutely ready to greet him and receive your much needed hello kisses. no matter how long of a day it was, anyday that you get to spend with the love of your life was a good one. you run your fingers through your hair as you wait for him to walk on in.

nanami opens the door, greeted by your sweet smile. “missed me?” he says, already beginning to loosen his tie.

“i always do, ken.” you wrap your arms around his neck, and he slips his hands around your waist.

he grins in the way he reserves just for you. no other person on this earth can bring a smile to his face the way that you do. there’s nothing he can even compare the warm, fuzzy feeling he gets when he’s around you to. he just loves the way you love him. he’s lost in thought as he gazes into those beautiful eyes of yours, unable to keep track of time.

“kentooo,” you drag out the last syllable of his name, giggling as you speak. “you forgetting something?”

a puzzled expression is painted onto his face as he tried to think as to what you could be alluding to. he has all the important dates memorized, so it can’t be one of those. was he supposed to pick up something on his way home? no, he would’ve written it down in his to-do list the moment you would have asked him.

you speak up after the lack of response from nanami. “i need my ‘hello’ kisses, please.”

of course! he hadn’t even realized that he hasn’t properly greeted you with the usual shower of kisses. you hardly had a second to think before his lips were on yours. his lips are so soft, moving against yours in such a heavenly manner. he brings a hand up to cup your cheek, and the other remains on the small of your back, pushing you up against him. your heart beats rapidly in your chest just for him, as you revel in the feeling. your mouths move in perfect sync, never wanting to part.

finally, he pulls away, leaving you breatheless before him. a playful smirk creeps it’s way onto your face. “damn, you should tell me ‘hello,’ more often.

YUJI ITADORI

yuji stands before you, holding up two movies as he calls for your attention.“baby, what movie you wanna watch tonight?” he raises up the one in his right hand. “gojo told me this one had a really annoying heroine but she dies in a spectacular way at the end!”

“well, now both you and i know how it ends,” you giggle with a shake of your head. “so let’s watch the other one.”

“sorry, didn’t think about that.” his scratches his neck sheepishly as he didn’t even think how he was spoiling it for you, just like gojo did for him. yuji laughs at his mistake and pops in the dvd in a hurry.

“whatever, come here, you idiot.”

a lips turn downwards in an over-dramatic frown at the jab. if you didn’t know any better, you really would’ve bought his false display of hurt. even while pouty, he didn’t fail to practically run to couch and jump on top of you in true yuji fashion.

“(y/n), that’s sooo mean!” he whines, arms wrapping around you tightly as you throw your head back laughing. he nuzzles his face in your neck as he continues moping, muttering on and on about how cruel you are.

“well if it helps at all,” you say in between giggles, “you’re my idiot.”

his head shoots up, a blank expression on his face. “oh wow,” he says in a monotone voice. “that makes it so much better.”

you go in to kiss that silly pout off his face but dodges you resulting in you mirroring him with a frown of your own.

“no kisses for you,” he quips, lowering his head but still keeps his eyes focused on you. “not until you ask, nicely.”

so dramatic for no reason. “oh my dearest, yuji,” you match his energy with your theatrics, “please, oh please, give me kisses.”

he grins, whispering “that’s better,” before pressing quick little kisses all over your cheeks, nose, forehead, literally anywhere but your lips. you feel like a crushing teenager all over again, letting him shower you in the utmost amount of affection. his soft lips on your skin were a feeling you never want to forget.

finally, after what feels like an eternity, his lips crash onto yours. his love for you evident in the way he kisses you so gently. your noses brush together as he deepens the kiss and he shifts his weight as to not pin you underneath his full weight. you quickly wrap your arms around his neck as you kiss him back. you wonder how he is able to pour all his love for you into a gesture as simple as a kiss, but here he is. when he pulls away, it feels like it’s far too soon.

“so are we gonna watch the movie now, or?”

MEGUMI FUSHIGURO

one of your favorite things about your relationship with megumi is that way you two simply enjoy the presence of one another. after being together for so long, there is something special about the way you two can relax in a comfortable silence together. both of you just are happiest when the other is around, just knowing the other is there is enough of a comfort.

today the two of you find yourselves in megumi’s apartment. the two of you had a rather rough mission this past week and he invited you to come spend the day lounging away in order to get some much needed rest. a part of you think he asked just so he could make sure you actually listened to him and took a day off. he may not voice it as much, but he can’t help but worry about you no matter what.

he was wearing a grey long sleeved shirt and pair of dark blue pajama pants when you arrived. megumi hadn’t even bothered to fix his hair to answer the door for you, and based on his appearance, he must have just woken up when he had texted you to come over earlier in the morning. he mutters a “hey, babe,” in that raspy morning voice you absolutely adore to no end, before gently grabbing you wrist.

he guides you to his bed, pulling you with him as he gets under the covers. he does all of this in a half-asleep haze and you curl up next to him on your side with his arm wrapped around you as he gets comfortable. the dark-haired sorcerer can be quite cute when he’s sleepy, even a little clingier than he typically lets himself be. next thing you knew, you were fast asleep in his arms.

when you wake up, you are greeted by megumi’s soft smile. in your sleep you two must’ve rolled around, resulting in the two of you lying face-to-face, legs still tangled up together. his face is still puffy, leaving you to believe that he must’ve woke up not too long before you. what a lovely sight to wake up to. you admire his long lashes and every single feature on his face and feel an overwhelming need to be kissed by those heavenly lips of his.

“hey sleepyhe-“ he starts before being cut off by your soft pleas.

“megs, i need kisses,” you pucker your lips, still in the process of waking up.

he happily gives in to your demands, capturing your lips in a lazy kiss. his lips are much softer than they appear to be, mesmerizing you in an instant. his hands have slipped to the small of your back, pulling you closer. he sweetly caresses your back and you feel him smile into the kiss as he goes to deepen it. that warm and fuzzy feeling consumes your whole body when his lips are on yours.

he pulls away and you think you could melt at the way his face is lit up. “well, are you good on kisses now, or do you want more?”

[mypersonmyg]

Couples Costume | JJK

pairing: jeongguk x reader

genre: fluff

rating: pg

wc: 1.3k

warnings: mentions of blood, fake blood,  spooky times, 

summary: it’s halloween and jeongguk is ready for a spooky time (ig, idk)

a/n: happy halloween peeps, i literally just wrote this in the last hour and i wrote it with the Collar Full couple in mind, but it can be read as just a random little drabble. while i’m here i guess i can also say that november is drabble month so expect this everyday or don’t whateves...also might have a header later but i don’t have time now lmao

also also this is unedited so have fun :-)

“I still think you should’ve gone with the bunny,” You emphasize with a sweet kiss to grimaced cheeks, Jeongguk still grumbling about a stray drop of red dye fallen against a distasteful tongue. “Then  you wouldn’t even have to worry about the fake blood.”

Your boyfriend’s disagreement is paired with the dab of a blood stained tissue touching up the precipice of similarly stained cheeks. You seem to realize simultaneously that your lips had just fallen against those cheeks, never much thought into such simple displays of affection.

“A bunny? The carrots were a one time thing, plus that’s so juvenile.” Your eyes meet in reflection, your tongue poking through pursed lips in disagreement. “It’s Halloween, not Easter.”

Your own costume begs the application of red stain, Jeongguk insistent that you play victim in his thorough depiction of Halloween horror. It was upon deaf ears that he convince your conveniently absent roommate to play the part. It’s a couple’s costume and I’m not dating Taehyung, he had so brilliantly quipped.

“Just because it’s Halloween doesn’t mean you can’t be cute.” He turns, the raise of his brow a precursor to feigned dramatics.

“Are you telling me that I’m not cute?” In a mess of ruffled fabric his hand falls to a mangled chest, the sentiment doing little to stop the cross of your arms and the pout of your lips.

“Shut up, you know you’re cute.” Your hip lightly nudges his own, making room at the heavily covered counter. “But I’m gonna look like I got hit by a bus and that’s not cute.” 

Your hand wraps around a dye covered tube, the contents spurts and now you’re the one sporting a grimace, the image of cold goop against bare skin an unpleasant one. Your hesitance is visible, Jeongguk grabbing the tube with a chuckle. 

“You don’t have to wear it,” He shrugs, tossing the tube, hands coming to tug at his bloodied sleeves. “I personally think you’d look beautiful even after being hit head on in rush hour traffic, but I think you’ll look beautiful in anything so you don’t have to wear the costume if you don’t want to.”

You’re aware of the double meaning, Jeongguk’s persuasive nature never lost, but you’re also positive that he wouldn’t hold it against you if you walked right back into your bedroom and stripped yourself of the ripped clothing. Not a word more falls from his lips as you continue to watch the progression of his costume. It’s the brief knock at the door that draws the attention of both of you.

“You guys ready to go?” Taehyung pops a crown adorned head around the frame, curls freshly permed and tickling rosied cheeks. You’re positive he spent at least an hour on his hair alone, but offer no tease, still in the midst of an intense inner debate. Jeongguk turns to you, brows raised in question. 

“Give us like twenty minutes, I have to make myself look gross.” You relent, a hand tracing a brilliantly placed scar against Jeongguk’s chin. He’s unable to contain himself, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he presses a kiss sloppily to your forehead.

“Fine, but hurry please? I’m not getting any younger.” 

Jeongguk takes control, the swipes of brushes against sensitive skin gentle. You chuckle each time his lip falls between his teeth, the quick withdrawal a result of a taste still unacquired. He demands your back to the mirror, an artist not ready to unveil his timed masterpiece. His quick movements are steady, his wide eyes endearing in every sense as you watch him work. 

With a few final passes against the bridge of your nose he’s tossing the brush, hands landing gently against your hips.

“Ready?” He hypes, teeth on full display, your hands doing everything they can not to grab hold of his sugar cheeks. 

“As I’ll ever be,” You nod, eager to see what he was able to throw together in such a short time. He turns you, an immediate gasp befalling you in response. Not beautiful, but a masterpiece by any standards. 

Much like every aspect of his being, Jeongguk’s canvas was used to its full capacity. There were cuts, scars, and stitches galore. No inch of you is left untouched by your buzzing artist, every precise stroke of his hand turning you into something so gruesome yet eye catching in the best way. 

“So?” his chin rests against the slope of your shoulder, nose nudging at the shell of your ear as both of your eyes focus on the image before you. You turn to him, muscles stretched so eagerly that they pull at drying paint.

“You’re amazing, you know that?” He pulls away, hands quickly cupping darkened ears. You nearly coo, the infatuation of long withheld affection never failing to grip you with his every movement. “Don’t be shy now you dork! I love it.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Your hand falls into his own to drag from the tiny bathroom back toward his own. You spot his camera easily, perched atop his desk, the lens already eagerly staring you down from the doorway. “I think this is one for the books.”

His agreement is immediate, hands brushing against his chest so as to clear the risk of smudge. He positions you in front of the window, light easily filtering in, the backdrop filled with leaves fluttering against the autumn wind. He takes a few shots, camera poised for a few more when you hold a halting hand.

“We have to take some together!”

“But I’m-” He points at the camera with a shrug. “I’ll get some of you and Taehyung.” 

“It’s a couple’s costume, remember?” You flip his earlier words, a coy smile stretching your scar stained cheeks. “And Taehyung and I aren’t a couple.” 

“I swear, you’ll be the death of me.”

“Actually, love, I think you’re the death of me,”  His eyes roll with dramatic flair, his body moving to find his tripod. He digs it from the depths of an overflowing closet, contents readily unknown, and makes quick work of assembly. He sets the camera, timed for a few rapid shots.

You attempt intimidations, face pulling into an image of terror. Jeongguk follows your lead, the two of you spilling over in laughter by the third frame. Your surprised by the sudden tild of your chin followed by contented warmth, Jeongguk’s lips easily pulling you into heated comfort. 

You continue to fold in, flashes of the camera long forgotten in your lustful haze. It’s the deep clearing of an impatient Taehyung that pulls you apart. 

“Oh, how cute. Now can we go before I make that blood on your face real?” 

“Did you just threaten to kill me?” Your response is half filled with humor, though Taehyung scoffs in return. 

“I would never! I was talking to Jeongguk,” He clarifies, gesturing to your unperturbed counterpart, his hands still embracing you. “I will not, however, take responsibility for what may or may not happen to you in the process.” 

“You jerk!”

“Hey, I’m just saying, if he’s gonna hold on to you like that there may well be crossfire.” He doesn’t wait for response, turning on his heels, the trail of his costume left in his wake. “If you two aren’t in the car in the next ninety seconds the only people who are gonna see those sick costumes are us three.” 

“The nerve,” You step away from Jeongguk, his hand eager to find your own once more.

“I guess it’s a good thing you look hot mangled, baby, because I’m never letting go.” 

“Aw,” You spew in exaggeration.

“That’s disgusting, I’m definitely leaving you just because I had to witness that.” You don’t hide your laughter at your friend’s antics, but you hold on to the warm feeling in your chest as Jeongguk holds you close. They may have been said with the intent of lighthearted banter, but you have no doubt that they’re true all the same.

[dreamcatcherfication]

The Queens of London Part 6 - What Am I To Do With My Life?

Man, I wrote this at like... 1 AM and it shows, it really shows.

Hello everyone, welcome back! I know it’s been a while (2 weeks!) since I’ve posted another chapter for this fic, but I got really busy with a bunch of other stuff, so it kept getting pushed back. I know you guys are used to getting pampered with new fics coming out everyday, but I still have a lot of stuff to balance, and sometimes my longer fics get put on hold as I get things back on track. But not to worry, we’re here now, and I’m not abandoning this fic! I didn’t get to edit this chapter, so I’m going to post it unedited and I’ll go back through and edit it later today when I have time. I hope you enjoy this part and that it suffices for a 1 AM keyboard smash. Sorry for any spelling/grammatical errors, my body is on fire and yes that can be interpreted figuratively or literally.

Writing Masterpost

If you want to send a request or a prompt, my inbox is always open! I publish a story at 8:00 AM PST everyday, so I’m always in need of new ideas. If you want to be tagged in my works, just let me know and I’ll be sure to tag you!

Prompts | More Prompts | The Trifecta of Prompts | Original Prompts

Trigger Warnings: Depression, feelings of worthlessness, self destructive thoughts

Kat was sitting on her couch, legs curled up to her chest and a cup of hot chocolate in her hand. She was in her pajamas and her hair was a complete mess. Kat’s guitar was leaning against the wall, it’s chords unused and forgotten. After her failure with the queens, it had been impossible for Kat to find it in herself to get up and street perform during the day. She couldn’t go out and watch Jane walk by. She couldn’t perform knowing that she had let down the people who had been depending so heavily on her.

It should’ve been obvious to her this whole time. Kat knew from the start she wasn’t a queen, nor was she a lady. She was in way over her head, that much had always been clear. But after the party at Henry’s house, it was practically spelled out in glittering letters for Kat. She didn’t belong. Never had, never would. Plain and simple. So why should she try?

The depressive haze had taken over Kat’s body as she sat in a ball on the couch, her eyes blankly staring at the wall. She didn’t have a television, so all she could look at was the moldy walls that housed her. It was disgusting to her, the life she lived, but it was all she had. To believe, even for a second, that she could trade it for fancy suits and lavish parties… 

Kat was naive to think anything would change. She knew better now. She knew that she couldn’t keep this charade up, and she certainly wasn’t cut out to be a queen. Not now, not ever. 

The knock on the door wasn’t enough to shake Kat out of her blank staring. She didn’t answer it, choosing to stay silent and still. There was rustling on the other side of the door before the lock clicked and it opened up.

Walking into the room with a small bag, Anne frowned at Kat’s appearance. “Kat, why are you in your pajamas, we got a meeting tonight?”

Shrugging, Kat barely reacted to Anne’s question. She hummed something noncommittal and squeezed herself tighter into a ball. “Kat, come on,” Anne set the bag down and moved over to her cousin. “You can’t just wallow here for eternity.”

“Yes I can,” Kat mumbled before groaning and unfurling herself. “Just go away Anne.”

Sitting down on the couch, Anne flicked some lint off the crusty plush furtniture. “I’m not going to leave you here alone. Tell me what’s up?”

Dropping her eyes, Kat sighed. Without looking in Anne’s eyes, she answered, “Nothing. Nothing’s wrong.”

Not believing it for a second, Anne moved closer to the teen. “Come on, I can tell that something’s up. You can tell me.” “Why?” Kat glared at her own hands defensively. “So you can make fun of me?”

“I won’t make fun of you,” Anne argued, almost putting her hand on Kat’s back but thinking better of it. “Promise. Cross my heart.”

Kat didn’t trust Anne’s words, but she spilled anyway. “I’m a failure. I let you and the others down. I haven’t belonged here since day one and I’ve only made things worse and harder for you all. I shouldn’t be here.”

Letting the words bounce off her, Anne huffed. “Come on now, that’s not true. We knew from the start it would be hard, none of this is your fault. And I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Anne paused dramatically before continuing, “None of us belong. None of us are really friends - except Cathy and Aragon, and each of our ladies. We’re all struggling Kat, not just you.”

Anne’s confession made Kat feel slightly better, but it was still overshadowed by her fear and doubt. “But at least you all have a reason, a motivation. Something important that you contribute. I’m nobody.”

“And yet you’re perfect,” Anne assured her. “When you watch a spy movie, does the government pick that famous billionaire or the naive looking ‘newbie’ to go undercover.”

Kat shrugged. “I don’t know, I don’t think I’ve ever been able to see a spy movie.”

“Okay -” Anne reiterated, “What I’m trying to say is being ‘nobody’ is exactly what we need. You’re practically invincible if you can’t be tracked down. You’re special Kat, far more special than any of us.”

The words sunk into Kat’s skin, even though she tried to keep them out. Kat wanted to say that she was worthless, because it was easier to hate herself than to look into Anne’s eyes and believe her promises. “I’m going to quit.” The forcefulness of her statement surprised Kat herself, but she held firm. Even when Anne gave her a pleading face, Kat didn’t budge. “I’m going to tell them the truth and I’m going to quit.”

Scrambling for a reply, Anne stood up. “At least come to tonight's meeting. Sit through the meeting and make your decision by the end. If you still want to back out, then I won’t stop you. But please, at least think about staying?”

Kat nodded, although internally she had already made up her mind. There was no way she was going to let the queens convince her to stay. Standing up to go change out of her pajamas, Kat froze a few steps away from Anne. “What’s in the bag you brought?”

“Hmm?” Anne turned her head to the bag. “Oh, nothing much. Just some food I bought from Tescos for you.”

Biting her lip, Kat went into her room and grabbed a change of clothes. She muttered lowly enough that Anne couldn’t hear, “I don’t need your pity,” as she got ready.

The familiar table sent shivers up Kat’s spine as Aragon went over the recap of the failed party. Kat was drowning out the woman’s voice, her shoulders hunched in as she waited for it to end. It felt like all the women were staring at her, blaming her for what had happened. It was all too much, but Kat wouldn’t let herself break down in front of them. She would keep her Katherine Brandon facade for one more night, and then it would end.

“We’ve got some news,” Joan spoke up when Aragon was done. “Maria’s been spending some time creating a code, and she’s finally ready to share.”

Maria made her way to the head of the table and set her hands down. “Yesterday we only had a single earpiece for Cathy, but Maggie’s been making sure we get them for each and every one of you. It took some time, but I’ve figured out the best way we can interact with each other using these. It’s going to seem quite simple, but it’s actually extraordinary. You see, each of you are assigned a number, and with those numbers, we and your fellow queens can contact you.”

“Interesting,” Anna stuck out her bottom lip in appreciation.

Leaning forward, Jane asked, “So what are our numbers?”

“Very basic,” Maria explained, “Aragon is one.” The CEO nodded. “Anne is two.”

Blanching, Anne rocked in her seat. “Really, I’m second to Aragon?”

Narrowing her eyes, Maria shook her head. “It’s not a contest of who’s better. The numbers are a timeline. You’re all arranged in the order in which you met Henry.”

Freezing, Kat set her eyes on the table. She was being put in this pattern that didn’t even apply to her. She was going to mess it up in a matter of minutes when she revealed herself. Anne shot Kat a glance across the table, but the girl missed it. “Three, Jane Seymour.” There was no reaction on Jane’s face, but behind her eyes there was a flash of pain. Maria continued, “Four, Anna.” The German woman tipped an imaginary hat. “Five, Kat.”

Acting like she had expected it in the first place, Kat nodded not particularly caring about her number. She would be five for five minutes, and then it wouldn’t matter. “And Cathy, number six. Whenever we address you in code, it will be using these numbers,” Maria finished.

“Sounds good to me,” Cathy affirmed. “I think that’s the last thing we had planned for tonight. If anyone has anything else to share, please do.”

Nervously, Anne watched Kat. The teen was psyching herself up, preparing for her admittal. Opening her mouth, Kat’s opening words were drowned out by Anna’s much stronger voice. “Actually, I do.”

“Anna,” Bessie warned as if she knew what was about to happen.

Shutting her mouth, Kat let the other woman talk first. “I was delivering a suit to Henry this morning, checking up on him after the party. He had a terrible hangover and straight up told Bessie and me that he’s going to be stuck at his office from tomorrow night through the morning.”

Standing up as well, Aragon scratched her nails on the table. “Did he seem suspicious of you at all?”

“Not one bit,” Anna spoke proudly. “We’re safe, for now. It didn’t even seem like he remembered anything from last night, so Kat’s still in the perfect position to sneak in and get the evidence we need. We aren’t finished.”

Breath hitching, Kat watched her hands. Her cover wasn’t blown? She could still… she could still do her job? If there was any way she could make up for what she ruined… “I’m in,” Kat shot up out of her chair, making a split second decision.

Anne’s mouth opened in shock when she saw Kat’s determination return to her eyes. Kat wasn’t done yet. “That’s good, because we’ll need you now more than ever,” Anna addressed Kat.

“What exactly are you saying Anna?” Jane questioned.

Smirking, Anna cracked her knuckles. “I’m saying it’s time for some good old fashioned breaking and entering.”

--------------------------------------------

Tag List:

@radcowboyalmondtree @boleynhowards @annabanana2401 @babeebobo @dont-lose-your-queerhead @everything-insanity @mindless-pidgeon @i-wanna-dance-and-sing-six @thedemidisaster @its-totes-gods-will @thatbolxyngirl @thenameisnoone @sixqueendom

[decembercamiecherries]

hi sorry to bother you but i somehow came across starry x eyed and i just wanted to let you know that i love it????? if you ever decide to write the whole fic i will definitely be here

Oh, you’re not a bother at all! I find it really flattering, actually, that someone found starry x eyed and liked it enough to send me this ask, so thank you! ^-^

I’m not sure if I’ll ever finish this, the idea’s been done before and I have a hard time continuing it….but here’s what I have so far, as a thank you (I wrote this back in 2016 and totally unedited so be warned lol):

“Leave me! Now!”

Kite’s warning comestoo late. There’s a flash, and blood flies through the air in a wide arc. Gon’seyes widen and his mouth opens in a silent scream, but he’s too slow, too slow,too slow. Kite’s arm lands with athud behind them before Gon can do so much as blink.

The thing is curledin a hunch between them and Kite. Blocking their path. Gon feels a fury boilover inside him and his hands turn into white knuckled fists. He’s ready totake this creature on, to reach Kite, to fight-

Then it looks overits shoulder. A pulse ripples through the air as its gaze fixates on them.

Gon’s blood turns toice at the hungry interest in its eyes. It takes half a second for him torealize that desire is not directed at him. It’s not even directed at Kite.

It’s Killua. Thecreature wants Killua.

“Why,” the chimera antpurrs as it slides into a standing position. “-don’t you have some pretty eyes.Like gems. Would you mind if I took them from you?”

Killua is a statuebesides him and Gon’s paralyzing fear turns into burning anger in half asecond. He doesn’t care what that thing wants; it can’t have Killua. He shifts his weight so he can defend hisbest friend, sees Kite crouch low to the ground-

Pain explodes in hisskull. Everything goes black.

-

When Gon wakes up,he’s lying on a bed somewhere he doesn’t recognize. The sunlight is bright butthe sheets feel cold. It takes a heartbeat to realize what’s missing, whathappened before he passed out.

He throws himselfforward, heart jumping to his throat. His blood is roaring in his ears and hishands are shaking. Where is Killua? He looks frantically around the room. Where is Killua?!

His gaze lands onKite, who sits in a chair across the room. There are bandages wrapped aroundthe arm that was injured by that- that creature, but he’s alive. And Gon isgrateful, really, but it doesn’t stop the churning anxiety in the pit of hisstomach.

He says hoarsely,“Kite.”

The man glances up andhis stare is heavy in the worst way. Kite doesn’t speak. He’s scared to ask,but he needs to know. Gon swallowsthickly. “Kite. What happened? Where’s Killua?”

Kite pins him downwith flat blue eyes. He says quietly, “I’m sorry, Gon.”

Gon just looks atKite, uncomprehending.

“I couldn’t save him.The Chimera Ant wanted him, took him before I could do anything. I wasn’t fast orpowerful enough to stop it.”

There’s a dull roarin the back of Gon’s mind. It’s blocking out everything Kite’s saying. It can’tbe true. It just can’t. Kite is the strongest Hunter they’ve met, if hecouldn’t get to Killua, then- then-

No. Killua is- Killuais the most incredible people Gon’s ever seen. He wouldn’t just let himself getcaught like that.

“What are you saying,Kite?” Gon asks.

Kite regards him withsomething that must be similar pity but Gon doesn’t understand why. Killua isalive. He can’t be gone. It’s not possible. Without Killua, Gon is. Is.

“The Chimera Ant tookKillua, Gon. At this point, he’s most likely dea-”

Gon is suddenly screaming,“DON’T SAY THAT! DON’T YOU DARE!!”

Kite’s mouth shutswith a click. Gon’s breathing is erratic and he can’t stop the way his chest isheaving. He didn’t mean to shout. But it’s wrong for Kite to go saying lieslike that. It’s insulting. Killua can’t die.

It takes five minutesfor him to calm down enough to speak again.

“I’m sorry,” hemanages to say finally.

“It’s alright.”

“But Killua- he’s notgone. Even though the Chimera Ant took him, it doesn’t matter, you know? I’mgonna get him back.”

Kite closes his book,one handed. “You’re going to have to be a lot stronger if you’re going to fightthe Ants.”

Gon nodded,determined. “That’s okay. It doesn’t matter how hard I have to train. Me andKillua are best friends, I won’t ever leave him behind. I’ll get stronger andfind him. No matter what! And then we’re going to finish finding Ging together.I know we will.”

Gon’s eyes areshining and he can feel himself beaming. He can’t help it. Killua is his firstand dearest friend. Gon wouldn’t have gotten this far without him and they’dgrown and accomplished so much together!

Don’tworry, Killua, Gonthinks as he clenches his hands into white-knuckled fists. Nen dances acrosshis skin and shrouds him in white-hot aura. I’llget you out of there in no time, so just hang on until I’m powerful enough tofind you!

Off to the side, Kitestudies him with an unreadable expression but says nothing.

-

Killua doesn’t wakeup in a bed, or even in a room.

When he finallycracks his eyes open, he finds himself in a dark cave. Or, it looks like a cavein a way that it has dark walls and a rock-hard ground. It doesn’t feel like one though; the air pulses,heavy with humidity, and the smell of rotting bodies is almost enough to makehim gag. Even worse than that is overwhelming presence of…something. Something bad, really bad. Something that’s worse thananything he’s ever faced before.

“Oh, you’re awake?”

The question makesKillua freeze.

He knows that voice.It spoke to him, just him, back when he was with Kite and Gon-

Gon.

He jerks up into asitting position. “Gon- ngh.”

He slaps a hand tohis forehead, barely holding back a hiss of pain. A stabbing headache attackshis brain. Its relentless in its fury, making it nearly impossible toconcentrate. Through the haze, he realizes his whole body hurts, not just hishead. He can see cuts and scrapes dotting the pale skin of his hand and he canfeel their sting under his clothes.

His mouth goes dry.What had that creature done to him?!

He raises his eyes tosee the cat-like Chimera Ant that had sliced Kite’s arm off. It stood a gooddistance off, its head tilted to one side as it watched him, fixated.

Killua fights down ashudder. He refuses to show weakness to this- this thing.

“What-” He bites hislip to stop himself from crying out. The headache is getting worse with eachword he speaks.

He starts again,“What do- ungh- you want with me?”

“Who says I wantanything from you?” it asks.

Killua grits histeeth. “You wouldn’t take me for no reason. I’m nowhere near as strong as Kite;if you wanted someone more powerful than me, you could’ve had him. So you musthave a specific reason for choosing me instead.”

The creature smilesand Killua can’t help himself from staring: rows of sharp, knife-like teethglitter in the low light.

“Pretty and smart,” it purrs. “You really arethe whole package. But can your abilities back you up?”

Killua’s head feelslike it’s being sliced open. The cave sways slightly as he says, “Wha-”

The Ant is in is facebefore he can blink. There’s a sharp sting across his face and then he’s flyingthrough space, suddenly airborne. He has a split second to think- I have to stop moving- when his backcollides into a boulder.

All air leaves hislungs and stars explode across his vision. He collapses in a heap, coughing sohard he tastes the tang of iron on his tongue.

“Hm. Not as fast as Iwould have hoped, but I suppose there’s always room for improvement.”

Killua spats out amouthful of blood. It splatters on the ground. More dribbles from his lips.Disgusting. Blood was never anything but that: ugly, gross and morbid.

A flash of nostalgiahits him and he’s five years old again, staring down at his first murder. Theman was triple his age but weak in body and mind. It had been easy to kill him.He had died on the floor of his own kitchen as blood pooled around his feet.Killua had thought the sight was gross then, too.

The only differencenow, is that its Killua’s blood onthe ground, and not some random-ass stranger he’d been paid to kill.

Killua clenches hishands so tightly his knuckles turn white. Blood rushes under his skin. Aftereverything he’s been through, after meeting Gon,there is no way in hell he is going to die the same way as the weak strangerthat had been his first kill.

He slowly raises his headand glares at the Ant with eyes as hard as ice. The creature towers over himnow, hands on hips, its tail swishing back and forth.

It grins, pupilsdilating, and says, “C’mon. Let’s have some fun.”

-

Pitou doesn’tnecessarily like using Doctor Brythe.She can’t use any other nen with it in practice, which leaves her with astrange vulnerable sensation, and she’s forced to stay in her given locationfor however long its activated. All and all, it’s a complicated but boringtechnique, one that makes her back stiff from staying in a single place toolong and her claws twitch with impatience.

So she opts forwatching the white-haired boy laid out in front of her to pass the time.

She comments off-handedly,“This is the fifth time you’ve broken that arm. Do you have a preference forthat specific limb? Or do you just like having your bones snapped in half likethat?”

The boy’s lips pressinto a thin line but he doesn’t open those gorgeous blue eyes of his. Sometimesshe wants to tear them out and put them in a jar someplace just so she canalways look at them…

“No, I don’t,” hegrounds out, distracting her. “No one likesgetting hurt. You’d have to be stupid, or insane, to think like that.”

“Yet, you stillsomehow find a way.”

He snaps, “That’sonly because you’re making me! As if I’d ever try to take on ten Chimera Antsquadron leaders in a row!”

He has a point there.She cups her chin in one hand as she regards him thoughtfully. If he wasn’t beingforced to test squadron leader abilities, what would he be doing right now? Sheknew next to nothing about this boy she captured. The only thing she caredabout at the time was his beauty, and his strength.

She won’t lie; thestrength part had been a little disappointing at first. He was gifted, yes, butalso painfully underdeveloped and inexperienced. She had purposefully submittedhim to these one-on-one battles with the hope he would improve exponentially.

And that he had.

She plops down on theground beside him and folds her legs.

“What was that thingyou did with Rammont a few days ago? I’m just dying to know. You’ve nearlytripled your speed and skill abilities since then

[cookinguptales]

I wrote something kind of odd. I wrote it all in one sitting. It is entirely unedited. And my friends, there is nothing healthy in this fic. So have fun, I guess.

The house was haunted, she was pretty sure. How could it not be after what had happened there? So much blood. So much pain. Everyone knew the stories.

Wren's family had thought she was insane when she signed the lease. She could remember the way they'd looked at her, all of them, with those wide eyes and those parted lips and the little wrinkle between their eyebrows like -- you couldn't possibly. You wouldn't dare.

She could, she would, and she did. The house was hers now with all its creaky floorboards and unnatural drafts. It was haunted, probably. She could feel it along the back of her neck. The darkness seemed too heavy, the silence too complete. There was something about the way the walls seemed to wait as she passed them, breathless with anticipation even as she traced the designs splayed across their brand-new wallpaper. They'd had to rip out the old stuff, after. She'd heard that from the realtor.

"Are you sure you really want to know about all -- that? You won't even be able to tell, you know. The prior owners did a very good job fixing the place up."

The woman had been white-lipped back then. So tense, so tired. The lines around her eyes crinkled too deep, too ragged, like they'd been fixed in her skin too quickly. Overnight. Wren supposed that made sense. She'd probably had a few sleepless nights over this house. No one wanted to live in a murder house, after all.

No one but Wren.

The old wallpaper had been garish, actually. She remembered seeing it through the red sheen of blood when the pictures made the rounds on the internet. Even then, she'd been able to see bright citrus fruits and coiled leaves beneath the viscera that had spattered the walls. It'd been a punch in the gut, that little touch of normalcy. She'd hated that wallpaper from the first time she'd seen it, but now that it was gone, the house felt wrong. False. Like a face-lift gone wrong.

New wallpaper. New carpets. Repairs made to the wood. You'd never know that a woman was stabbed to death here.

"Too bad you never got to see the renovations, Margot. Maybe you would have liked them," Wren murmured to herself, or to a ghost. "Very tasteful."

Maybe it was Margot in those walls. Maybe her soul had escaped on a sea of dark blood, and the stains of neither had ever come out. Maybe she was trapped in there, beneath all that clean wallpaper. Beneath the smell of Pine-Sol and cookies, the lure of realtors everywhere.

Maybe it was Margot's eyes that followed her and maybe it was her deathly sighs that Wren heard in the darkness. Or maybe it was him. He'd died, too, that night.

The newspapers had been very tasteful in their coverage. The internet had not. It was the nature of the crime, Wren thought. The photos had flooded the internet before the police had even known someone was dead. They'd blinked into existence all over, all at once, on every timeline in the world. It all went viral so fast. People had leapt upon the photos as a puzzle to be solved with only the promise of nightmares and satisfaction as a reward. They hadn't solved it, though. None of them had been able to figure out whose house it was, whose knife had left gouges in the molding, whose dark hair hung there, just out of focus.

No. That had been Wren.

She'd called the police, of course. Soon every car in town was parked outside Margot's old house with their lights on and a thousand sirens screaming just as loud as Margot had. Probably. It wasn't even two hours before the first tentative headlines were hitting online papers. Before the rest of the internet, the part that had no need for "journalistic standards", was buzzing about one more girl who'd been killed by a slimy ex. Who’d been eviscerated and laid open for all to see. She'd been so stupid. Hadn't even known he was hiding in the house. Hadn't she ever seen a horror movie?

Wren knew she had. They'd watched them together, right here on this couch. Margot used to hold her hand back then, too tight, just right, and whimper whenever the films got too scary. When the killers appeared in the mirror. When the ghosts started to fizzle into existence.

Wren had learned all about ghosts right here with Margot. She'd learned all about love, too, and heartbreak. And now it seemed like Margot was back to give her extra lessons in all three.

Probably.

Wren's friends had asked her if this was some kind of penance. None of them had liked him, but Wren had been the only one that Margot had loved enough to listen to. Wren hadn't said anything, though, about the way that he held Margot’s arm too tight or the way he looked at her the way a dog might a bone. She hadn't said a goddamn word. It was too easy to second-guess back then. Maybe she was just jealous. Maybe it was just the haze of unrequited love obscuring her vision and making her see monsters where there were men.

He'd been a monster, though, sure enough. And Wren hadn't said anything. Maybe she did blame herself, a little. She blamed him a hell of a lot more. She'd been able to live for so long without Margot loving her. He hadn't made it two weeks before he'd chopped her to bits.

Wren sat on the couch now, head leaned back against the same pillows she'd fallen asleep on countless times before, and thought about the movie nights. The self-doubt. The way Margot would curl in close and stroke her hair when she was too tired.

She thought about ghosts. The metaphorical kind. The literal kind. She hadn't moved in unprepared. She'd brought a whole box of all the usual things. A digital voice recorder. An EMF meter. A thermal camera and some kind of fancy thermometer. Sage. Holy water. Hell, she'd even gone to Toys 'R' Us and bought a goddamn ouija board.

People said the house had to be haunted. There was no way it couldn't be. The photos had been haunted, after all. People could see backgrounds twitch no matter how many times they checked the file type. They could hear the faint sound of sobs when the photos were left open for too long. And who the hell had uploaded them, anyway?

She'd wanted to be found, they said. Everyone said that. The blogs, the forums, those kooks on the seedy side of Youtube. But by whom?

By Wren. It had to be Wren. Wren, who had stared longingly at that hair for so long. Who'd swung around those splintered banisters with Margot. Who knew every fucking orange in that ugly wallpaper. It hadn't been hard to recognize, even painted drenched and dewy with Margot's insides.

Wren had known instantly, instinctively that it was Margot's house. Margot's blood. Margot's goddamn call for help. So she'd helped. She'd helped every way she could. She called the cops and ran out the door without even putting on a coat. She'd held Margot's sister as she’d sobbed, and she’d told the whole story, all of it, to the police. To the newspapers. To the kooks on the seedy side of Youtube. She'd helped Margot's mother tear up the carpet and lay down new swathes of it, fresh and white and all wrong.

And she'd bought the house. Because it was haunted, probably. She could feel ghosts in the wallpaper and the ratty couch and in every dark corner Margot had been too nervous to explore. Metaphorical ghosts. Literal ones. She could feel a presence behind her when she cooked oxtail soup, just the way Margot had loved it. She could feel a heaviness in the air when she disrobed to take her shower. She could hear soft breaths in her ear in that quiet, not-quite-real moment between waking up and opening her eyes.

She wasn't alone in the house. Her entire body screamed that to be the case. Flickers in her peripheral vision. The double-tap of her heart against her ribcage. The goosebumps that coated every inch of her body. The lingering tightness of muscles gone ready to flee, to fight, to hold someone tight and never let go. It was all there. It was always, always there. Just like she hadn't been, when Margot had needed her.

The only real question in Wren's mind was who it was -- the woman she'd loved more than her own breath or the man who'd taken her away? Were the pictures a call for help, or the lure of a madman? An entreaty or a boast? Who the hell had posted those pictures? They'd both been dead. The police had shaken their heads over the timeline more times than she could count, had even thrown around the idea of a third person in the house. But there were only two people at the crime scene, and both were dead when the pictures documenting the death of a young woman had gone viral.

It was all the same to Wren, really. She'd promised to never, ever leave Margot, not as long as she lived. So she sang while she cleaned and she put Margot's favorite scents in the burners. She left Margot's shows on when she wasn't home, and she curled up to sleep on that worn old sofa every night. If it was Margot there, a half step behind her, it was the least she could do.

And if it was him... If it was a darker presence waiting for Wren, waiting to take her and kill her and swallow her up in one bite... Well. She hadn't said a word. Maybe it would be deserved.

Six missed calls from her parents. Ten from her friends. They all wanted to know what the hell she was doing there, in that house. If she was sure. If she was safe. Wren wasn't sure about the answers to any of those questions. All she knew was that sitting there, watching old movies on a moth-bitten couch, tears leaking down her cheeks, she was exactly where she belonged.