#his voice is really GOLDEN to my ears!! I feel it like warm liquid sunshine if that was even POSSIBLE

[witchangelnekora]

"Warm Light", a SKZ One-shot

Note: I wrote this after a really bad breakup, I used my name in the tale,but you can replace it with your own if you want. Also, the outfits all resemble Felix's from when he wore the beautiful prince like suit last year.

“Warm Light”

By Nekora

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My heart was broken,

Feeling like my body had ceased to exist,

My limbs, my chest, my head,engulfed in a shadow,

Swallowed up by pain in my soul,

Numb and feeling like i was a phantom,

My heart felt empty and shattered.

Everything around me went black,

I felt my hands reach over to my bedside table,

Picking up a set of headphones as i slid them on my ears,

Turning on a playlist i had saved in my phone,

Slowly falling asleep.

My eyes were heavy,

My thoughts weighing down on me,

Feeling empty inside,

I succumbed into slumber

Not knowing what was about to happen next.

As my mind slipped into an unconscious state,

The music in my headphones changed to a song that meant a lot to me,

“Cover Me’ by Stray Kids.

Suddenly, i dreamt i was in a strange, beautiful garden,

An eden like paradise covered in flowers,

A clear pond in the center of the place with an ornate,

White pagoda in the middle, 

a golden bridge connecting it to the grass in front of me.

“Where am i?” i asked. 

“I’m scared….where is everyone? I don’t know where i am…”

“Don’t worry. You’re safe here.”

I heard a voice, it sounded like a deep yet comforting whisper in the wind,

Along with seven other voices accompanying the first.

“Is everything ok?”

“Are you alright?”

“Do you need anything? Maybe a hug?”

“Your face, it’s covered in tears…”

“They’ve been crying, but why?”

“Maybe something bad happened?”

“Then, let’s make ourselves known.”

Just like that, 

A flash of light came forth,

And eight figures came walking through the bright light,

Each dressed like a prince,

Their clothes in eight different colors,

Like a walking rainbow.

“H-hello?” I ask, scared and confused,

Trembling like a leaf and watching as the light faded behind the eight men.

“Anohangsayo, We are Stray Kids!” All of them said in unison, giving a bow.

But as the man in a beautiful red and black uniform walked up to me, i flinched,

Letting out a squeak of fear. 

“Hey, are you alright?” He asked, gently lifting my face to his.

“No…” I hoarsely choked out, holding in more tears.

“What’s your name?”

“Nekora….” My voice was soft, unsure of what to say.

“There’s no need to be scared, I’m Bang Chan, or you can call me Chris if you want. What happened, Nekora?” 

“I got my heart shattered…A guy i loved gave up on me, said he couldn’t do it anymore, 

I thought i would love him forever…but my heart now feels empty, broken..

Like i shouldn’t exist anymore. Like i should erase everything.”

I felt the tears fall again,

The salty liquid stinging my eyes,

Falling upon my cheeks as it felt like fire,

Coughing and sniffling as i felt Chan’s hand on my back,

Telling me to breathe slow as i looked into his dark brown eyes, 

Feeling myself start to breathe normally again.

“Never say that. Erasing yourself from the world….

That won’t fix anything. Heartbreak hurts,yes.

But…things will get better.” He said.

The second man walked up to me, wearing an emerald colored suit that complimented his dark red hair, 

A shining silver piercing was under his right eyebrow,

Glimmering in the sunshine.

His face was like looking like a beautiful painting,

With soft, pale skin and calm brown eyes.

“A-And you are?” I said, still shaky in the voice.

“Hyunjn Hwang, but you can simply call me Hyunjn.” He smiled, placing a hand on my shoulder. 

“You feel cold…Is this because of your heart?”

I Nodded, 

Knowing the breakup made me feel numb inside,

The crying from before stopped all my emotions,

Feeling like a shell of what i once was.

“Your heart…It feels like ice,

It feels like someone took a hammer to it.” Hyunjin said.

“Don’t worry. It may feel like you won’t love again, but it takes time to heal.”” 

He put his hand where my heart was,

It felt like the pain went away,

Like my heart began to beat once again,

But slow and steady.

The third and fourth men walked up next, dressed in stunning shades

Of orange and pink, one bringing me a blanket,

The other bringing a box of tissues and a glass of water.

The one in Pink had a kind face, mochi like cheeks and strong arms,

The one in orange had a smile like a Quokka, warm and sweet,

Like a freshly made pancake.

They brought me to a nearby bench and sat me down.

“Here. Drink this and wipe those tears. I’m Han and my friend in Pink here is Changbin.” Han smiled as i took the glass and a tissue, 

Wiping away the tears from my worn,

Shadowy face. 

I felt Changbin wrap the blanket around my body,

As i saw his lips curl into a smile,

I suddenly felt my own lips form a soft smirk,

The shadows beginning to wane from my hands, 

Letting out a soft “Thank you.”

“You know, It sucks to have your heart broken.

It feels like someone ripped part of your soul out of your body,

By someone you thought you could trust.”  Changbin said. 

“But, things get better. You need to breathe, 

Take care of yourself, prioritize your own health first. 

Listen to what your heart says.” Han said.

The next two walked up, dressed in Yellow and a soft, calming blue.

The one in yellow had a cute fox plush in his hands, 

While the one in blue brought a small plate with a brownie on it,

They smiled at me, bringing chairs over to sit on in front of me.

“We could see you were stressed, and that’s not good.

Seungmin here brought you a brownie to nibble on, to calm your nerves.

And i brought you a plushie to hold, 

Those always help me when i’m sad. I’m Jeongjin,

But everyone calls me I.N.” 

“Thank you…” I whispered again.

“I can tell this really hurt you…did you love them?” Seungmin asked.

“I thought i did. He was kind, accepted me, treated me like someone 

That deserved to feel human again. I’ve been hurt too much,

And i’m sick of it.” 

“Sounds like they never truly loved you. Did they ever tell you they did?”

“No.”

“Then he didn’t deserve you.” I.N said as he handed me the plush, 

It’s cute face making my smile widen a little. “If he truly loved you,

He’d have told you, and made you feel like you belonged.”

“He’s right.” Another voice chimed in.

The seventh of the men walked up to me,

Dressed in pale purple with a pin on the lapel in the shape 

Of a bunny, 

His face reminded me of a calm ocean,

He knelt down and hugged me, tears falling on his shoulder,

Softly hiccuping.

“I’m Lee Know…I heard everything you said to them,

And you didn’t deserve any of what you went through, 

Not at all. You should’ve told him all of this…why didn’t you?” He asked,pulling away a little to wipe away my tears.

“Because, i guess i was looking through Rose tinted glasses, not realizing all the red flags. He was more focused on his career, never telling me he loved me, when we made love, it was like sleeping with a man made of cardboard, not full of excitement…It was loveless. It was just…empty. He hardly cuddled me, and he wouldn’t stop bringing up his more successful ex…It made me feel like crap.” I choked out, tears spilling from my eyes once again as i clutched the plush doll close to my chest and wrapped the blanket around my body.

“You didn’t deserve any of that.” Came one final voice.

I looked up, my eyes bloodshot from crying hard, but i took my glasses off,

Wiped my tears away and put them back on, i saw a man with blonde hair that reminded me of sunshine, Brown eyes that gave off a kind aura as i looked at him,dressed in all white with a beautiful diamond brooch on his suit, his right arm hidden by a cloak as he walked towards me, his face looked angelic, with freckles that dotted along his cheeks and the bridge of his nose,

Resembling stars in the night sky….one was even shaped like a heart on his cheek.

“And you are?” I hiccuped.

“I’m Felix. I heard everything you said as well, and…all of us here have went through identical moments in life, finding love and losing it, being in a loveless relationship, having our eyes covered by wool and not realizing the person we’re with isn’t good for us at all…” He said, gently cupping my chin and looked in my eyes, leaning up to plant a soft kiss on my forehead. “You deserve much better in life, someone that’ll actually love you, treat you right, heal your wounded heart, and bring forward the best feelings you’ll ever feel in your life. Someone that accepts every part of you, no matter what.”

I felt the last of my shadows fade away,

As if his kiss helped me calm down, my heart felt warm again,

My chest radiated light, a warm, comforting light,

Like a fireplace that was lit in my soul, 

i felt happy again.

“Thank you…all of you.

Chan, I.N, Changbin, Hyunjin, Felix, Seungmin,Lee Know, Han…

Thank you so much…” I choked out, my eyes shut as tears once again fell from my eyes,

But this time,

They were happy tears.

Just then, i felt something in my hands.

I opened my eyes, it was a lightstick,

It had a beautiful silver compass star in the middle, surrounded by a red circle,

Enclosed in a dome,

But i looked around and saw all of them holding an identical lightstick in their hands,

With Chris nodding at me with a smile.

“No matter where you are, what you’re doing, you’ll always have us on your side.” He said.

“We’ll be with you, no matter what.” Hyunjin piped up.

“Whenever you need a hug, or kind words, just picture us in your mind.” Han smiled.

“You’re a part of STAY as well, you know. You make Stray Kids stay, after all.” I.N chuckled.

“When we give the word, raise your lightstick up in the air, ok?” Lee Know said, smirking.

“Don’t worry, We’ll always be with those that bring happiness to others. It’ll all be ok.” Changbin said, his kind eyes sparkling a little.

“Now, are you ready? We want to let you wake up with a smile.” Seungmin said, smiling as well.

“Raise it up now, along with us. One, two, three….” Felix said as they all raised their lightsticks in the air, and once i took a deep breath….

….I did too.

From all of the lightsticks,  a shining silver light came from the center,

The sky peppered with stars everywhere, twinkling and glimmering.

I could make out the different patterns in the sky, resembling their SKZOO selves…

I saw Wolf Chan, Bbokari, Dwaekki, FoxI.Ny, Leebit, Jiniret,PuppyM,and finally Hanquokka…they were smiling at me.

Before i woke up, i felt them all walk up to me and wrap their arms around me in a giant hug…

It felt so comforting,

I wanted to cry,

But i couldn’t.

All i could do was smile. 

I felt one final kiss on my forehead…

….And my alarm was going off.

I woke up with a smile, 

My headphones falling off my head as i whispered…

“Thank you.

My heart will heal soon,

Thanks to you all.”

#stray kids #stray kids fluff #wholesome #heartwarming #healing from heartbreak #stray kids story

[inkykeiji]

i have the warmth of the sun within me tonight

characters: takami keigo | hawks

genre: smut n fluff

notes: this piece was written with someone specific in mind, but i wanted to share it here, too!! this is, by far, the healthiest and most wholesome piece i’ve ever posted on my blog ehehe | title cred: the warmth of the sun by the beach boys

warnings: 18+ minors do not interact, reader is extremely scared of thunderstorms, v romantic, shower sex, minimal prep, slight size difference/size kink

words: 4.6k

synopsis:

“Make it stop, Kei, please, m-make it stop, make it go away,” the words are nearly inaudible, wept into his chest and muffled by his jacket, snarled, snared, snagged on the choked sobs and gagged sniffles that scrabble and tear at your throat with their razored talons.

And even drenched, clothes sopping with rainwater, he’s still so warm, like he has liquid sun flowing through his veins, scalding waves of heat radiating off of his body and seeping into yours, cozy and consoling as it douses you, as it sinks into your skin, your bones, your soul itself and marinates there, twisting and twirling into a small ball of sunshine, of him, that sends pulsing zaps of warmth circulating through your flesh.

It’s dark. It’s so dark it almost looks like night despite the fact that it’s only late afternoon, heavy bloated clouds—charcoal and fluffy and overstuffed with raindrops—obscuring the safety of comforting golden rays from the entire city.

The torrential downpour feels endless, and for a brief second you’re terrified it truly may never stop, streets below having flooded with the rain, cars slowly wading through them, tires spraying out streams of water as they do.

Magnificent strikes of lightning crack through the dreary sky like thick roots snaking through the foggy canopy of smoke and steel, momentarily tainting them in shades of periwinkle and lavender and casting flashes of brilliant silver light across the skyscrapers and condominiums.

Their sudden presence makes you jolt, a rapid shudder working its way through your entire body, skin pebbling with chills in its wake.

But it isn’t the lightning that bothers you—not really, anyway.

It’s what comes after.

Rumbles of thunder so loud, so violent they cause the glass windows of Keigo’s apartment to quiver and the hardwood beneath your feet to tremble, roll through the sky, and you swear you can see the clouds ripple from the force.

Arms squeezing tighter around your body, your fingers curl in the material of your—his—hoodie, desperately attempting to resist the urge to grab your phone, to frantically scroll through social media as worried eyes scan for any mention of his name, for shreds of dreadful news, for things you never want to hear.

You hate it when he has to work in storms such as these. And you know, you know you shouldn’t be watching the sky, shouldn’t be searching the splotches of gunmetal adorning the atmosphere for a glimmer of scarlet and gold, shouldn’t be standing so close to the pristine glass windows that your uneven puffs of nervous breath cloud them, tiny blankets of condensation left by the hot air you exhale fleetingly staining the surface, evaporating into nothing just as quickly as they appear.

But you can’t help it. It’s a compulsion, almost—like some sort of sick obsession, some sort of twisted addiction you can’t control. Because—Because you have to know, unable to stand that feeling of uncertainty that gnaws away at your insides, incapable of handling the ambiguity and vagueness that comes packaged with the not knowing. You have to at least try—try to do everything in your power to stay informed, and if that means facing a vicious thunderstorm head on, with your cheek pressed against the cold glass as your gaze searches the tumultuous sky, then so be it.

You can brave it for him. You swear you can.

“Baby,” he scolds gently, his sudden presence surprising you, causing you to throw a quick glance over your shoulder. Topaz eyes observe you, overflowing with concern, pretty bowed lips turning down, soaked strands of gold hair sticking to his forehead, cheeks and neck. “How many times have I told you not to do this?” And although he’s reprimanding you, his voice is sweet, smooth and syrupy like the finest honey. “You know how much thunder freaks you out,”

You scoff, stiffening almost defensively as you turn your nose up a little, still avoiding his eyes. “It doesn’t freak me out,”

“Oh?” he laughs a little as he kicks off his boots, tension easing from his shoulders with every step towards you, every step further into the warm sanctuary of your shared home, wet sock-clad feet slapping against the hardwood and leaving gleaming footprints.

“Kei,” you whine a little, gesturing his dripping body. “You’re getting water everywhere,”

“Hey now,” a playful smirk spreads across his lips, and a sudden, sharp whoosh slices through the air as his wings spread, spanning nearly half the living room. He gives them one good, thorough shake, crimson feathers trembling and sending tiny droplets of water flying. “I wasn’t done,” he speaks over your squeal of his name, smirk growing into that trademark mischievous grin. “You shouldn’t just stand at the window and stare up at the sky—it only scares you more,”

“I’m not scared,”

Vicious growls of thunder roil through the sky before you’re even finished speaking, almost as if it’s laughing at you, mocking you, your body flinching as the sounds crash over you, curling in on yourself a little, face puckered up in a wince as your words stutter, catching on a gasp in your throat.

Exhaling a soft sigh, Keigo holds his arms open wide, wings still stretched to span them. “Yeah, right. C’mere,” When you don’t begin moving immediately, he sighs again, strong hands gently pulling you towards him.

Your body melts into his touch—an automatic and involuntary reaction, almost instinctual at this point—and you slump against his damp chest, nuzzling your cheek against the firm muscles.

“I’ve got you,” he says softly, arms wrapping around your body as he holds you tightly to his, voice reverberating against your ear. “The Big Bad Scary Thunder can’t get you here,”

Eyes rolling, you scoff at his playful teasing, a tiny smile materializing on your face as you pull away a little to look up at him, greeted with the sight of brilliant eyes—made of sunshine and liquid gold, you’re absolutely sure of it—gazing down at you, lips quirked in a cute little smirk.

His beauty never fails to knock the breath from your chest—it seems you can never be prepared for it; no matter how many times you’ve seen him, how many times you’ve been close enough to count the individual eyelashes lining those orbs, how many times you’ve been close enough to feel the inviting tickle of the short golden hairs decorating his chin—and you’re not sure you’ll never get used to it, either.

A peculiar mix of adoration and concern swirl in his honey irises, though you can see the mirth and amusement dancing just beyond that, thinly veiled by the love and worry.

“Oh, shut up—” another bang of thunder fissures through the sky, so raucous it makes the thick clouds waver and swell, your words morphing into a fearful little squeak, quickly burying your head back against the safety of his chest.

Fingers curl in the wet suede and you hug yourself closer to him, tugging him closer to you, body beginning to shudder.

He’s hushing you now, arms and wings curled around you in a defensive embrace as words of comfort pry past his lips, tender voice sheathing the armor of crimson surrounding you.

“At least they aren’t as bad as the ones back home, yeah?”

“I guess so,” you mumble, unconvinced, eyebrows knitted and mouth sculpted into a deep pout. “I still don’t like them, though,”

“I know, I know,” a warm hand rubs soothing circles into your back, voice only marginally louder than the next bout of thunder as it vibrates against your face, another quiet yelp clawing its way up your throat. “Shh, you’re safe, you’re safe,”

“Kei,”

The nickname escapes in a mangled little whimper, and you can feel it—fright, terror, dread—building in your chest, a strangling type of panic that weaves and winds itself around your windpipe and crushes; because they’re getting worse, they’re getting closer, growls and grumbles following the flashes of lightning almost immediately, roaring loud enough to quake buildings, your heart thudding so violently it’s almost painful. Tears sting your eyes, and you shake your head against him, as if trying to burrow into his chest, to carve out a little space in his ribcage, right next to his steadily beating heart, and live there.

“I-I take it back, they are as bad as the ones back home,”

Or, at least, this one is

Keigo doesn’t argue, all traces of amusement evaporated from his face, replaced by trepidation that mixes with his worry and pinches his features, eyebrows furrowed and lips downturned as he cradles you against him. Ferocious tremors course through your form, chest beginning to hitch with swallowed sobs, and he squeezes you.

“Make it stop, Kei, please, m-make it stop, make it go away,” the words are nearly inaudible, wept into his chest and muffled by his jacket, snarled, snared, snagged on the choked sobs and gagged sniffles that scrabble and tear at your throat with their razored talons.

And even drenched, clothes sopping with rainwater, he’s still so warm, like he has liquid sun flowing through his veins, scalding waves of heat radiating off of his body and seeping into yours, cozy and consoling as it douses you, as it sinks into your skin, your bones, your soul itself and marinates there, twisting and twirling into a small ball of sunshine, of him, that sends pulsing zaps of warmth circulating through your flesh.

“Okay, alright,” he’s saying as he rocks you gently, crimson wings wrapped entirely around you both, shielding you from the storm. The scent of freshly mown grass and sticky vanilla ice cream is nearly overwhelming as it washes over your senses, invading your lungs and smothering you in its embrace. It’s a welcomed feeling, the beautiful suffocation it affords you with, vibrant bursts of heat rushing through your veins, whole body flooded and thrumming with a deep-seated comfort—a special type of solace, of reassurance, of contentment unique to him, unfathomable and mystifying on all accounts, that soothes your frayed nerves and calms your irregular heart—because he smells like home; not your home halfway across the world, your real home, your forever home.

“Come,” he instructs a moment later, stern yet tender, keeping an arm draped firmly around your shoulders, one of his wings curving around the limb as he leads you away from the window, scarlet feathers obstructing your vision.

—

The bathroom—comprised of gleaming marble and shining chrome—is enormous, housing a mammoth glass shower that spans the length of the furthest wall, large enough to more-than-comfortably accommodate his wings, and then some.

Steam fogs the glass, and a soft hiss slips from between your teeth as he cages you between his chiseled body and the freezing marble, cold rock stinging your already heated skin, his wings spreading to mimic his arms, providing another layer of protection and entirely immersing you in him.

It’s your favourite when he does this, when he engulfs you in his grasp and creates a tiny universe where it’s just the two of you, whole world having fallen away outside of the barricade his thick wings offer—and you’ve never felt safer.

And it’s amazing, you’re thinking to yourself—or maybe you’re murmuring it, lips moving in a daze—it’s amazing how even after all of the rainwater pouring from the sky, all of the zipping through those dense clouds, all of the vicious wind that whips against him as he soars; none of it could ever manage to wash away, to ever dull, his intoxicating scent, not even for a second.

You’re completely overcome by him, vanquished by his enamoring eyes and his saccharine smile—drunk and high off of it all, addicted to him in the sweetest way—and he hasn’t even done anything yet.

But you’re leaning into him, closer and closer and closer, lips parted as you inhale deeply, filling your lungs, your chest, your heart and veins and blood with his aura, his essence, him. He conquers you, intoxicates you, poisons you in such a beautiful way, and you’re enchanted by it, yearning for more, a greedy and insatiable craving that will never be fulfilled.

And he knows it. He knows the effect he has on you by merely existing near you—his cocky smirk and dazzling gaze tell you so.

But then his eyes soften, glazing over with something else, lidded as they slowly travel across your body bared to him, and his mouth falls open only for his tongue to suck his bottom lip between his teeth, and his fingers reach to trace your features, the curve of your cheek and line of your jaw, the most gentle caress.

“You…Are breathtaking,”

And he really does sound out of breath, as if he’s in awe from your beauty, as if this is his first time seeing you, as if you’re some sort of goddess, having descended right in front of him, and it forces chills to erupt across your bare skin—damp and splattered with tiny droplets of water that gleam like morning dew clinging to grass—despite how boiling it is between him and the steam from the shower.

It’s a feeling you can’t quite explain, a feeling you’ve never really been able to find the appropriate words for, something that makes you feel simultaneously powerful and weak, a swirling concoction of contradictions that invade your bloodstream and travel straight to your brain, infusing the tissues with the potent mix and sending tiny sparks buzzing through your veins, collecting to flutter together in the pit of your stomach.

He kisses you slowly, tonight. He kisses you like it’s his last day to live, kisses you like it’s his first time, unhurried tongue deliberately exploring the concavities of your mouth—every nook and ridge and crevice—as if committing them to memory, as if attempting to leave his stamp, his mark, his claim, on the real estate there.

He kisses you until neither of you can breathe, lungs shriveling as your chests heave, exhaling into each other’s mouths only to suck breath from each other’s mouths a moment later. He kisses you until you’re dizzy from the lack of air and he’s burning and hard and pressed up against your thigh, leaking head rubbing against the supple skin, leaving the prettiest gleaming trails of cream. He kisses you until you’ve gone stupid from his spit alone, fervent in the way you swallow it greedily, in the way you attempt to suck, slurp, steal more from him as it surges to your brain, tissues and nerves vaporizing into nothing more than a dazed mist, spiked with him.

The kiss breaks with a sharp whoosh of air, his lids lifting to reveal glassy pupils outlined with the thinnest ring of amber. Your tongue darts out from your mouth to lick and lap at the stringy, viscous remnants coating your chin; starved, ravenous, and forever unsated.

The chuckle huffed out from between swollen, saliva-soaked lips is nothing short of sinful, makes your vision blur and your stomach swoop, a murmured tease following it.

“Eager, aren’t you,”

And you want to point out that you weren’t the one practically humping someone’s hip, but the words tangle in your throat, catching on a gasp as nimble fingers slip between the apex of your thighs, an involuntary groan spilling from his throat.

“Fuck,” his head falls forward, face buried in your neck, and sucks an inhale through his teeth. “How are you already this wet?”

He’s nearly whining as he dips two fingers into you, soft little sounds that fall from his lips and sop into your skin, his breath scorching—sizzling more than the steam in the shower—against your neck.

And those fingers, now plunging into you, knuckles curling the moment they’re deep enough to press moans from your chest and cries from your throat, feel so familiar as they stretch you open—the same fingers that pet your hair and brush away your tears and feed you pieces of fried chicken; they feel like home.

Yet as comforting as that is, as much as it has your chest swelling with something so large, so dense you’re terrified your ribs may shatter and splinter under the strain, they aren’t enough. Not right now, not today.

Because even with the water hitting the tiles and the exquisite symphony of his pants and your mewls, you can still hear it, menacing blasts encroaching on you, deep and heavy and threatening to split the little world Keigo has created, the small haven his wings and arms provide.

“Please, please, Kei,” you’re nearly wailing out, forcing bleary eyes to open, belated in the way they find his gaze. “I-I want you, I need you,”

“Sweetheart,” he starts—and you know that tone, stitched together with hesitation and concern and embellished with thin ribbons of patronization. “You know you can’t take me without being opened up at least a lil’ first,”

Another clap of thunder rattles the apartment, sounding as if it’s just outside the bathroom door, ranting and raging to get in, and both of your hands claw at his wrist, trying to pull his hand away as words bubble past your lips, high and terrified and desperate.

“No, Kei, not tonight. Please, baby, please, I need you now, right now, Kei, right now, pl-please,” and you’re nearly choking on the pleads as they barrel up your throat and out your mouth, all garbled together and stuffed with spit. “I can handle it, promise,”

A hoarse whine hitches in his throat, the worried knitting of his eyebrows carving creases into his forehead. With pinched features and a scrunched face, it looks almost as if he’s in pain; like it’s pure agony to deny you. And you can see it, can see the internal struggle reflected in his eyes, stare wrought with the tug and pull between desire and care. But that need is growing, spreading, curling around your organs in a tight embrace, suffocating you with its urgency.

A final please, Keigo, croaked out in a broken whimper and thick with the threat of tears, is what breaks him, shatters his resolve to a fine dust and whisks it away in one breath.

“Alright,” he’s murmuring, though his voice is strained, tense and gruff under the combined paradoxical weight of lust and apprehension. “Alright, hush now, I’ve got you,”

Then he’s hoisting you up, and your legs are wrapping around his waist, one hand clutching the top of the glass door, the other digging bruises into his neck as he buries his cock inside of you in one swift movement, a set of relieved gasps escaping you both.

It stings a little, sharp pinpricks shooting through your gut as his thick cock stretches you open, but they’re chased promptly by thorns of pleasure that dissipate the pain.

Because he feels so good, and you feel so full, and everything feels so perfect like this—everything feels right again.

But a boom of thunder explodes through this moment, blowing it to bits and pieces, and you reflexively jump, whole body flinching in his arms.

“Shh,” he’s whispering to you as he pulls you closer, chest pressed flush against yours. “Don’t worry, songbird, I’m gonna make it better, alright? Just focus on me,”

And so you do, eyes slipping shut as his hips begin to pump—slow at first, almost languid in the way they roll forward, each thrust thorough, cock nearly entirely unsheathed before it plunges back in, the head nudging your cervix, and you revel in the delicious cracks rasps—of your name, of curses, and praises—that fall from his lips with each rut.

“S’deep,” you mumble, words already jumbled from the carnal bliss, from the hedonistic decadence that surrounds you, emanating off him and percolating into you, instantly diffusing the tension and panic knotted like thick vines in your chest—even though he’s barely fucking done anything. “S’deep, Kei,”

“Yeah?” the word fans across your face, sweet and fragrant, hazy eyes opening to be met with glittering gold, strands of honeysuckle hair stuck to his forehead and temples, framing the dark gaze watching you, pupils almost voracious in the way they soak up your expressions, almost greedy in the way they scan your face as his hips move, looking for more. His forehead knocks against yours, penetrating stare boring into your face. “Good? My baby like it?”

“So good,” your head nods in small movements with the whimpered affirmation, bumping against his. It’s already beginning to build, smoldering deep in the pit of your stomach, the spark that had been dulled when you had begged him to stop, begged him to give you more—to stretch and fill and form you like your insides were made for him—reigniting, bright and scalding.

“More, please,”

It just slips from your lips, brain already beginning to melt as you allow yourself to be submerged, swallowed and consumed by him; an innate desire that swamps your mind and floods your senses, and you want it all.

But he complies without complaint this time, void of the usual teasing remarks and requests that you beg for it, because he can see how depleted, how drained you are, utterly exhausted from the terror of the storm, his understanding evident in a gentle confirmation tumbling from his lips.

And his groans and grunts are so beautiful, vibrating deep in the recesses of his chest, louder than any thunder as they rumble in your ears. You find solace in them, gulping them in as he pushes them out, letting them vibrate down the column of your throat and collect deep in your belly, kindling with the flickering embers that burn and glow and multiply with each thrust, furling together in a tense ball of churning heat.

The canting of his hips increases, faster and faster and faster with each rock forward, the escalating force resulting in your body to rubbing against the marble and glass, tightly curled fingers readjusting themselves, slipping a little from the foggy condensation coating the surface.

You don’t even realize that your sensitive skin’s been rubbed raw from the action, too tangled up in his noises, his pleasure, his cock, to notice, too tangled up in him to care at all.

“Here,” Keigo pants out, hips suddenly stilling. A low whine catches in your throat, eyebrows furrowing as you attempt to fuck yourself on his cock, a breathless snicker escaping his parted lips. “I know, baby, I know,” he’s telling you as strong arms readjust you, folded wings suddenly spanning, a gentle gust of air bathing your slick body in little goosebumps, before they wrap around him—around you—sheltering you from the glass and marble as they swoop under your ass and thighs, aiding Keigo in supporting your weight. “Don’t worry, I’m gonna take care of you, I promise,”

And it’s so much hotter like this, so much more intimate like this, uneven puffs of breath mingling as his forehead rests against yours, florescent lights reflecting off of his thick feathers and tinting everything—his skin, his eyes, his hair—scarlet.

The sudden snap of his hips startles a moan out of you, and he laughs again, carmine-tinged topaz eyes positively glowing. And he looks so gorgeous like this, looks like a fucking god like this, those fine gold hairs that cover his body catching in the soft light and shimmering.

He’s kissing, licking, nipping anywhere he can reach, stamping your flesh with physical manifestations of his love, pace never faltering as skilled, powerful hips continue to pound into you, cockhead dragging against that spot with every buck.

Your legs flex around his waist, muscles coiling as the sphere roiling in your stomach blazes, curled into a concentrated ball of fire. The heat it exudes is nearly unbearable now, heavy as it sinks into your gut, glowing orb spiraling as it coils, tighter and tighter and tighter until—

“Want you to cum for me, baby,” Keigo nearly keens, almost as if he’s begging you instead of commanding, voice cutting through the dense haze your brain has evaporated into. “Can y’do that for me? Be good and cum all over my cock?”

Yes, yes, yes, your head is nodding, emitting affirmatives in the form of high little mewls with each jerk. And it only takes two more sharp pistons of his hips before the fire-filled ball bursts, half of his name escaping your throat in a fractured cry as your entire body stiffens, cunt clenching so vigorously it’s almost painful.

Words start to spill from his mouth, an endless stream of praises, sandwiched between dark groans and broken whines and hitched curses; Y’so good for me, y’know that? Ah, f-fuck—So gorgeous when you gush all over my—my cock, baby, y’feel so good, I love you, I love you, I love you.

Hot, thick cum fills you suddenly, coinciding with his last choked out declaration of love, cock throbbing as it spurts rope after rope, taut stuttering hips pressed flush against your skin.

—

Everything aches as you unwind your limbs from around him, muscles sore and legs trembling as Keigo forces you to stand, propping you up against the shower wall and returning with the fluffiest towel only a moment later. Large hands pull you towards him, dragging you from under the shower head and into his arms, swaddling your shivering body in Egyptian cotton and strong arms and soft feathers.

He leaves the shower running on purpose, steady flow of water hitting the tiled floor and marbled wall, efficiently drowning out any roars or claps of thunder.

And you’re so tired, so pliant and boneless in his arms, barely able to keep your weighted eyelids from fluttering shut. He keeps you in his lap as he sits on the closed toilet, cradling you to his chest as best he can as he gently rocks you back and forth, whispering out praises—you did so well, you always look so gorgeous taking my cock—and avowals of his love, constant words oozing from his lips, sentiments cascading over your body like a stream of thick syrup.

Unconsciousness has you in its clutches, nearly slipping into the familiar embrace that promises the numbing ecstasy that comes with such an intense orgasm, until your tummy growls, and Keigo laughs.

“No, sweetheart,” he chides softly as you nuzzle into his chest, an indignant noise sounding at the back of your throat. “You have to eat at least a little before you can fall asleep,”

“Don’wanna,”

“I know,” he’s saying sympathetically as he stands, placing your feet on the floor a moment later. You wobble a little, eyes still shut, and he chuckles again, murmuring to himself about how fucking cute you are as he begins to dress you, tugging soft fleece that reeks of him over your head.

—

The rain has slowed to a drizzle by the time you’ve been clothed and fed, constant and leaking from the clouds overhead as you snuggle against Keigo in the plush sanctuary of your shared bed, tummy full and happy with roasted chicken and sauteed veggies. A deep contentment settles itself in your bones, weaving itself around the ivory in a protective glaze and imbuing you with a sense of calm, a sense of relaxation, a sense of relief, and you hum, Keigo’s lithe fingers trailing up your spine absentmindedly.

If you’re being honest, you’re not quite sure how he did it, how he slipped, slithered, seeped through the few cracks in your defence without being violent, without being forceful—how he tore down all of the barricades and shields you had built around yourself, hardened and firm from several years of paranoia and distrust, from the perpetual fear of being hurt again. It should scare you, really, how quickly he did it, how easily and inconspicuously he did it. But it doesn’t.

It doesn’t, because he did it with love; stripping those protective walls with genuity and sincerity, dismantling every brick and stone with gentle touches and soft kisses and tender words. He did it with respect, with patience, with passion and affection and devotion.

So it doesn’t, because there’s nothing to fear—because you’ve never felt more safe in your life, here enveloped by his strong arms and cozy wings, resting on his chest, legs tangled in knots together.

And as you drift off to the gentle pat-pat-pat of the raindrops against the windowpane and the steady thumping of Keigo’s heart echoing in your ears, you realize he’s your very own ray of sunshine, forever present to keep those menacing clouds and malicious thunder away, even in the strongest, the harshest, and the scariest of storms.

#takami keigo x reader #takami keigo smut #bnha smut #hawks smut #hawks x reader #takami keigo #hawks #AAAAAH ITS SO VANILLA LMAO #it's really sweet tho #i hope it brings some of you some comfort and feelings of buzzy happiness <333

[snickiebear]

If this inspires anything in you, and if you have the time to write it, I hope we can see how you respond to the following prompt:

Kakashi is the god Sakura has to eat and kill.

Lordt help us!

HAHAHAHA MITTENS!! this is literally one of the best prompts ever. thank you SO MUCH!!

i literally had to sit down and outline this so make sure i gave it justice LMAO also, did a little research on japanese kami! which is so interesting btw :))

side note! this is also on ao3 bc i really, really loved it

xiv.

It begins with a girl (doesn’t it always?). A girl made woman who is nothing but smiles and laughter, unfiltered sunshine and the smell of flowers on the warm breeze.

She is good, she is brave, she is kind.

And she grows, that girl made woman, she grows and her eyes open to the world around her. To the hatred of the mortal, to the disease of the gods.

She holds her mother close as she dies in her arms, her father off to war.

They never find his body.

She is the only survivor of her village, war and wreckage in her wake.

This woman made once of sweet sighs and feather light touches learns to survive, learns to harden herself against the world, to bare her teeth and not her throat, to love the scars and hard muscle of her once too soft body.

She meets a woman with too ancient eyes for a face so young and the woman smiles at her, it is a horrible, wretched look. It is a beautiful, timeless look. “Oh, you.” She murmurs, voice old and young, standing slowly. “You’ll do just fine.”

And the girl made woman bares her teeth in a smile, a warning, tilting her head to the side, “Oh? And what shall I do just fine?”

The woman assesses her, amber eyes shining with something cruel, “You will be my avenger, girl.”

And the girl made woman, well, she rather likes the sound of that.

xxiii.

She sees him for the first time at the market, it’s a cloudy day, the streets full of people and the carts slowly selling out of the limited goods available.

The very land has been dying for years now. The mortals do not know it, but Sakura does. Less and less crops, dying plants, brain soil.

The thought itself brings a slight smile of fondness to her face.

But Sakura sees him for the first time at the market, and she knows who he is, what he is. She was under Tsunade’s tutelage for years. Sakura knows a god, a kami, when she sees one, feels one.

So, she walks, shoulders back, spine straight, loose and fluidly until her boot purposely catches on a crack in the cobblestoned road and she’s airborne with a sharp gasp—

Until two strong hands wrap around her forearms, steadying her gently. Sakura looks up, face flushed and eyes wide as she makes eye contact with the Shinigami, who looks at her in concern.

The god takes the form of a tall, broadly shouldered man with a mess of gray hair. Onyx eyes stare at her and they are so black she can see her reflection. Sakura fights the full body shudder that threatens to overtake her.

She has stared into the eyes of a dying god before. Staring into a living one’s should be no different.

“Are you okay?” He asks and his voice rumbles through her, her heart pounding without her consent.

“Yes,” She breathes and offers a shy but sweet smile, slowly taking a step back. He lets his hands drop, fingers grazing her bare skin. She ignores the goosebumps that erupt in his wake. “Thank you very much…”

“Hatake Kakashi,” The liar says, eyes crinkling from over his mask. “And you are?”

“Haruno Sakura,” She replies easily, tucking her hair behind her ear. The Shinigami holds out her basket of goods and she takes it, brushing her fingers against his deliberately, calculatingly.

The wretched kami gives her another eye crinkle, taking a step back himself, “Aa, a pleasure then, Haruno-san.”

Forcing a blush, Sakura waves off the honorific, “Please, just Sakura.”

“Then I am simply Kakashi,” And with a duck of his head, the fraud turns and ambles away.

Sakura turns also, disappearing into the crowd of much too skinny humans, too poor, too stupid. She allows herself to grin, wide and unfiltered, and with teeth. And that scaled, clawed, fanged thing inside her peeks its eye open and purrs.

xvi.

Tsunade— or at least that is what she wants Sakura to call her — takes a long swig from her jug and cackles to herself. “I was right when I picked you, you know.”

Sakura glances up from her scroll of poisons, “You still have yet to tell me why it took only one look to think I can do whatever avenging you want done.”

Swirling the liquid in the jug once more, Tsunade chuckles, “Call it intuition, yeah?”

She huffs, snapping the scroll shut and stealing the jug from her master, taking a long drink herself. It is horribly bitter and disgustingly tart, and Tsunade laughs herself hoarse at the look on Sakura’s face.

“You’re going to do great, mighty, quiet things.” Tsunade says after a long silence. Sakura looks at her curiously. “You will bring war upon earth, disrupt the very heavens. Sweet child, you only know a taste of the power you could hold.”

And Sakura, well, she’s been alone since she was eight years old and surrounded by disease ridden corpses, she’s stolen and cheated and bartered her way through survival. She knows her way around a knife, a piece of glass, a sharp rock.

She has spilt blood just to eat for the night.

“You’ll teach me,” It is not a question.

That cruel, beautiful smile unfurls on her master’s face, “Of course, Avenger. Tell me what you want to know.”

“Everything.” Sakura breathes, demands, pleads.

A soft, aching laugh. “Very well, come here and listen closely.”

And Sakura is a clever girl made woman, she listens to everything Tsunade says, and everything she does not.

So, when Tsunade leaves her alone for the night, Sakura stares at the ceiling of the cheap Inn they are staying in and allows herself to smirk.

xxiii.

She sees him every time she goes to the market after that. He crinkles his eyes at her with a, “Good morning, Sakura-san.”

And in response Sakura blushes and murmurs a sweet, “Hello Kakashi-san.”

It goes like this for weeks until he changes their routine, leaning against one of the carts, tossing an apple into the air. There is only one farmer who can now produce apples, and even then the fruit is weak, no longer crispy and juicy.

The very land, the very life of this village is being drained away. Just as the other villages Sakura has traveled through. There will always be consequences to her actions, she supposes.

Kakashi tosses her the apple and Sakura makes sure to fumble with it before clutching it close to her chest, a teasing smile on her lips, “Kakashi-san, this is new.”

“Mah,” He hums, shrugging, “Just didn’t want you to miss out on your usual, is all.”

Sakura smiles, tucking the apple into her basket, the usual contents dwindled down to a simple jar of jam, a measly loaf of bread, and now the apple. She would need to make this quick and move towns soon.

“Say, would you like to come to lunch with me?” It’s a shot in the dark but she’s hoping that Tsunade was right when she said Sakura was infuriatingly charming. “I understand if you would not like—"

Kakashi cuts her off with a wave of his hand and a friendly look in his eye. Sakura wonders, idly, what he would taste like freshly baked and seasoned. “I am not one to turn down free food, of course.”

She laughs, a light and tittering thing and bares her throat the slightest bit before looping arms with him, “I shall lead the way then.”

Luckily, she has some dried meat and left over vegetables to make something decent and she smiles as him as she sits.

“You’re a healer.” Is what he says, eyeing the herbs and the bandages she had left out.

Sakura shrugs, “I try to lessen pain,” It is one of the many things Tsunade had left her.

He looks at her as if she is something new and so very interesting and she knows what he sees. A thing of life, a thing of preservation, has invited a creature of death, a creature of destruction into its domain, and allows that dark creature to live there.

It is what she wants him to see. Sakura smiles with teeth and she knows he does not see the wolf that sits in front of him.

xvi.

“Dodge!” Tsunade barks harshly and Sakura just barely avoids a direct hit, her skin still burning from the way the air sizzles from her master’s blow.

Sakura twists and flips backwards to gain some space between them, thighs quaking and sweat pouring as she pants, chest heaving. “I fucking am!” She bites back.

“Do it faster.” And then Tsunade is in her space, uppercutting and a blow to her stomach, sending Sakura flying into the corpse of trees behind them.

But Sakura is used being beaten down and she snarls loudly, landing on all fours, fingers digging deep into the ground before she lunges upwards, narrowing avoiding Tsunade’s next hit before spinning horizontally and lashing out with her foot.

And for the first time, Sakura lands a hit on Tsunade; sending her stumbling back, golden blood bleeding down her face.

She lands, gasping for breath, knees collapsing out from under her as she stares wide eyed as her master wipes blood and sweat from her face with the back of her hand. Her amber eyes sharpen to knife points as she grins, feral and oh so wild, “Very good, Sakura. Now we’re making progress.”

Despite her exhaustion, Sakura smirks, tasting blood and salt and victory. “Think you can handle more, old lady?”

“Don’t push your luck, brat.” Tsunade smirks, stalking towards Sakura to pull her up, “Now let me see that jaw of yours. And the stomach, the hell did I tell you about the sto-“

“I know,” She snaps, rolling her eyes as her body throbs something fierce. She allows herself the weakness of leaning into Tsunade’s as they trudge back to their small cottage. “I’ll do better.”

“Good.” They leave it at that. Then, “That was a good hit, my pupil.”

And Sakura, well, she’s feeling indulgent, so she smiles, a slight twitch of the lips as she murmurs, “Thank you, shishou.”

xxiv.

She finds him at the usual spot, draped over a branch like a limp curtain, book in hand. Sakura is still not quite over the fact that the death god reads awfully written porn, but at this point in her life, nothing can truly shock her.

Sakura is well past expectations.

Hiking up her pants, she climbs up the tree and to the branch he’s lounging on, straddling it so her back is to the trunk. Kakashi makes a curious noise when she pulls out her book from the waistline of her pants, “I never took you as an Icha Icha reader, Sakura-chan.”

Peering over the top of her book, Sakura quirks a brow, “If you can read porn, so can I.” A pause as she turns the page, “Plus you’re reading Paradise, I’m reading Violence. Two very different pieces of literature.”

What she will not tell him is that Tsunade taught her how to read with these books, she’s memorized every page, paragraph, and line written.

“You wound me so,” He sighs, going back to his book.

Comfortable silence descends upon them and the only sounds are of nature and the rustle of paper. Time passes and she cannot help the slight twitch of her lips whenever Kakashi giggles at a certain part. It is nice, this quiet.

But she knows it will not last. She will not allow it.

And like an omen, low rumbling of thunder rolls through their quiet, small droplets landing on her hand before the rain steadily picks up. Sakura snaps the book shut and shimmies down the tree, Kakashi landing soundly next to her.

“My place?” She asks, though she knows the answer.

Kakashi intertwines their hands, gently and slowly, his hand encompassing her own as he looks at her, dark eyes reflecting the sky as lightning strikes. Something hot pools deep in her belly when she makes eye contact with him.

And she knows. She knows that she has him.

They stand in her small cottage, dripping and studying each other before they move as one, ripping at each other’s clothes, all lips, teeth, and tongue.

She claws at his back when he thrusts into her, rough and unyielding. The rain pounds outside as her back arches and he groans deep and rasping.

He falls asleep, his face pressed into the crook of her neck and Sakura allows herself to smirk, the taste of glory on her tongue once more.

xiv.

Sakura glowers and bares her teeth at the woman, “You still haven’t fuckin’ told me what we’re supposed to be doing.”

Truly, the only reason why Sakura is even here is because of the free food and shelter. She is well aware that nothing is free in this world, Sakura has learned that the hard way.

The woman tilts her head, studying keenly and Sakura rears her head in a snarl. But the woman’s lips pick up at the corner, “What’s your name girl?”

“Sakura.” She bites out, fingers curling into fists. Glancing around the tavern, she notes the exits, the windows, the people who could be an issue. Then again, she’s sitting across the biggest threat in the room. “And yours?”

The woman hums, “Call me Tsunade.”

“And what am I supposed to be doing here?” She grounds out. Sakura nearly bites the woman when two strong hands clamp down on her shoulders, the woman’s face inches from her own.

“You are the catalyst, girl. The commination that will teach the world the very meaning of power.” Sakura’s eyes sharpen at the last word and Tsunade nods. “You like that, hm? I will teach you then, Sakura. And you will enact my vengeance on the heavens itself.”

Sakura stares, tension slowly melting from her body as she stares at this woman, at this savior. And she thinks, she remembers how cold her mother’s body was, the look of grief her father wore when he left.

She remembers tripping over the bodies of friends, of neighbors, half coherent and sickly.

Looking at Tsunade, Sakura licks her lips, “And what will you teach me?”

“How to turn that rage into a dagger and slit gods’ throats with it.” The woman purrs and Sakura smiles.

xxiv.

She wakes to a freezing cold chest to her back and puffs of air on her neck, just as she has since that night.

It is exactly as Tsunade said it would be; fishing. Lure, hook, and reel.

Sakura lets herself smile with teeth, a smug and sharp thing before she slowly extracts herself from the tangle of limbs they had become. The Shinigami slumbers in her bed, wrapped in her blankets.

Leaning against the doorframe with crossed arms, she looks at the god who she has fallen in love with. He loves her with just as much ferocity, she knows. And despite it all, she finds herself not quite hesitating when she goes to dig through her cabinets, finding the small nine pedaled flower. It once had ten and after this morning it will only have eight.

It is as if sinking into a familiar skin as she picks one of the petals, tucking the flower back where it was. Humming under her breath, Sakura grounds the petal in a small bowl before brewing some tea, sprinkling the powder into it.

The Shinigami’s arms snake around her waist, kissing her temple as he rumbles, “Good morning.”

Sakura turns her head to smile at him, offering the tea.

The scaled, clawed, fanged thing within her has its ugly maw open, head throw back as it cackles and howls.

xviii.

“Listen brat,” Tsunade says, snapping open a scroll.

“I’ve already read that,” Sakura interjects, her brows raising. “You know that.”

Tsunade slaps the back of her head, “When I say listen, I mean it.” She shoves the scroll into Sakura’s lap before striding towards a chest that had not been there before. “Come here.”

Slowly, Sakura makes her way towards the opened chest and peeks inside. She drops the scroll, “Is-is that-”

“Weapons to kill the divine,” Tsunade finishes for her, nodding. “Find one you like.”

Sakura swallows harshly as she kneels down and digs through the weapons, careful of every sharp point, as she palms a knife, a curved dagger with a golden blade. “This one.” She whispers, looking up to her master.

Tsunade nods in approval. “There are few ways to kill a kami.” She holds out one finger, “One, with an ichor dipped weapon.” A second finger. “Two, a very particular poison.”

Picking up the scroll, Sakura glances down the list before landing on one flower, “Kami koroshi.”

“That’s right.” Tsunade nods, “And do you know what to do with it?”

Sakura stands, flipping the dagger in her hand. It feels like coming home, having a blade at her side, bathing in the intimately dangerous knowledge of how to bring about the destruction of the heavens.

“Crush it for indigestion.”

xxiii.

Her stomach aches with laughter, clutching at her sides as she cramps and chokes on her tears. “An-and then wha-what happened?” She manages to get out as Kakashi laughs himself, leaning against the wall, a jug of liquor in hand.

He passes it to her and Sakura takes a long drink, reminiscing of a time similar to this.

“Then I told him, fuck off you little shit—" Kakashi wheezes and Sakura shouts with laughter, curling over as she gasps for breath. “And go blow som-someone else!”

They both dissolve into giggles and howls, Kakashi joining her on the floor. Sakura’s panting by the time she catches her breath, wiping tears from her face, and when she looks over Kakashi is not much better.

Brushing hair from his face, she points skyward, the stars winking down at him. “Hey Kakashi,” She asks, drunk off her ass and still giggly. “Where do you think we go when we die?”

Silence meets her question, and she sluggishly looks to the side to find him watching her, eyes soft and so full of— of—

“You’ll go somewhere safe,” He says softly. “Somewhere beautiful.”

“Yeah?” She mumbles, eyes dropping closed.

“I’ll make sure of it.” Is the last thing she hears before the dark overtakes her.

xix.

Tsunade sits across from her, laughing as she takes another long drink from her jug and sets it down heavily.

Sakura simply watches, leaning back in her chair, eyes cold and head tilted as her master coughs once, twice, three times.

Her arms begin to lose its color, being paler and paler and Tsunade watches with detached interest before laughing. She looks to Sakura, “Took you long enough, you fuckin’ brat.”

Snorting, Sakura stands, dagger in hand as Tsunade’s body begins to writhe, her breathes coming quick and uneven.

She yanks her master’s hair back, exposing her throat and slitting it in a single slide, so deep that she knicks bone, golden blood spraying.

The body drops forward, ichor pooling on the table and dripping onto the floor. Sakura sighs, rubbing the back of her neck as she kneels down to look into Tsunade’s lifeless eyes, “I will take it from here, Shishou.”

The promise rings out into the silence and Sakura revels in it.

xxiv.

Kakashi takes a sip of the tea as they both sit down, Sakura across from him. She takes a bite from the rest of their bread, watching him keenly.

He jerks suddenly, choking and hacking as he looks to her in horror and alarm. “You—"

“Me.” She confirms easily, getting up, dagger in hand.

The Shinigami roars and pushes the table away from himself and into the wall, Sakura ducks, the wood barely grazing her head before she lunges.

His already pale skin grays some more as he attempts to fight her off. She laughs at him, holding him down with one hand, knees on either side of his hips. And in the morning light, her dagger glints like a heaven sent prayer.

She plunges the blade into his head and drags it down his breast, carving him open as the kami screams and screams and screams.

Sakura feels his life bleed out from him under her hand. It is quiet once more.

And the girl made woman smiles, all bloodied teeth and gold stained hands. "And here we are." she whispers, caressing the corpse's cheek, reveling in her quiet victory. "Divinity dies at my wretched hands once again."

xvii.

“Shishou,” She begins, treading carefully. Her teacher looks at her in question, quirking up a brow. “Why were you outcasted from the other Kami?”

Tsunade— or more commonly known as Inari, Goddess of Everything Important, of the very Life— laughs and it is a hollow sound. “Oh, darling girl,” She says, a bland smile on her face. “Even gods hunger for power."

xiv.

Sakura sits, a feast laid out in front of her, a goblet of wine in her hand as she smiles, eyes flashing with something predatory.

Picking up her fork, Sakura spears into the first bit of meat, taking a bite and moaning at the way it melts in her mouth, the way the spices and flavors all blend.

She sips at her wine, running her tongue over her teeth before she laughs, throwing her head back and cackles at it all, with it all. Oh, she is a god killer, she is god taught and god fucked and she will be the one to rule them all.

Sakura sits, a feast laid in front of her, and eats the Shinigami’s flesh, one bite at a time until she can feel the power in her roar.

xix.

The corpse still sits at the table as Sakura rummages through the shit Tsunade had left behind, finding a thick envelope sealed in wax. Prying it open, Sakura laughs.

If you’ve found this, it means you’ve finally grown a pair and done what you were supposed to do. Well done, my pupil. You know your mission. I have trained you well. Do not disappoint me.

And behind the scrawled letter is a recipe.

She looks to the corpse and back down to the paper before she stands, going to gather the ingredients needed.

Sakura stands, flipping through the rest of the contents of the envelope until she pauses at another paper; a list of names and common dwellings.

The Shinigami’s is underlined three times in red.

xxv.

It ends with a girl (doesn't it always?), a girl made of nothing but destruction and anger, all slit throats and bleeding teeth.

She is horrid, she is wretched, she is powerful.

And she has grown, that girl made woman, she has grown and her eyes are wide open and she is intimately aware of the hated and evil of the world, of the weaknesses of the divine.

She finds them laying under a tree, peacefully existing and smiling at each other. The blonde one laughs, clutching his stomach while the raven simply watches on in adoration.

Sakura takes out the list, and under the Shinigami’s name crosses off two more, Raijin and Fujin.

Smiling, she makes her way towards them making sure to look a little lost and a bit scared.

And that thing inside her, the scaled, clawed, fanged thing, it smiles wide and hungry.

#silly things from silly friends #kakasaku #that one ninja anime #200 follower event :) #a shared pen

[rosy-wooyoung]

[10:11]

requested : yes! thank you 💕 word count : 1.8k

You decided to have a late start this morning with Hongjoong, but you thought that you deserved it. It was finally resting time for both of you and, let’s be honest, you were drained of any energy that you had left. You had just graduated college and Hongjoong, well, he was still going on strong with his group as an idol, and their last win made them achieve two good weeks of rest.

As the world was by your side, the next two weeks promised to be good: constant good weather, with some heat waves here and there, but you foresaw everything: you had asked your aunt if, while they were spending their holidays abroad, you could come over with Hongjoong since they had a pool. They agreed and here you were, in the large house of your aunt with a swimming pool. You were excited to spend the next few days with him, finally resting and spending time together.

Your day started with a brunch on the patio, Hongjoong installing a big umbrella so you can enjoy your fresh food without being too hot by the already warm sun. “Thank you for the amazing food, baby, it smells wonderful,” he said as he sat down on a metallic chair, dragging it on the wooden floor closer to the table in a loud noise. He stopped immediately, noticing how loud he was and you burst into a laugh at the face he was making. “It’s alright honey,” you said as you poke the yolk of your fried egg, the golden liquid slowly dripping off onto your toast. While enjoying your meal, you caught up with your boyfriend by telling each other stories of what happened in your respective worlds. It was such a nice, relaxing feeling to have him by your side, no one was stressed about a schedule or a lecture that was about to begin, you were carefree and you haven’t felt like that since you could ever remember.

Once you were both done with eating, you grabbed his plate and stood up, filling up the dishwasher with other items of tablewares before starting it. Hongjoong cleaned the table and the rest of the kitchen before going back outside. A small breeze tagged along to start your day. You changed into a sheer top and a pair of shorts before laying on a deckchair, a fairly new book in hand. The rays of sunshine caressed your body as well as the wind, who was contrasting with the warmth of the sun to keep you at a rather enjoyable body temperature. Hongjoong picked up another deckchair and placed it next to you, kissing your cheek before lying down as well. He let out a sigh of ease once his head rested on the plastic material and closed his eyes, enjoying the sun as much as you did. While holding your book in one hand, the other caressed back and forth your lover’s arm, who was casually carrying on his night. Your affection lulled him to sleep and, in his slumber, he stopped your hand to grab it and link his with yours. You turned your head to the side to look at him and sent him a flying kiss, to which he answered by shooting you a wink.

You didn’t even realise that you had fallen asleep on your lounge chair, your book carelessly tossed on the floor as your arm dangled above it. Hongjoong was nowhere to be seen so you sat up, only to find him swimming around the pool. He welcomed you with a smile when he noticed that you were up, sinking his entire body underwater for a few seconds, only to push back his hair correctly.

“You should come in babe, it’s good,” he said as he rubbed the chlorine water off his eyes, shielding his eyes from the sun to look at you. Your boyfriend took in the view of you taking off your clothes and made your way to the swimming pool, his eyes never leaving your body. “You are gorgeous honey,” he said in a breath as you sunk your feet in the water, smiling at his compliment. It was quite cold but refreshing, the sun beating down was becoming quite unbearable. “You better not splash me,” you warned as he was looking at you with a smirk, hands doing whatever underwater. You couldn’t see what he was about to do, but you could tell that it was something quite foolish. “I’m not doing anything,” he lifted his hands in surrender, only to make them collide with the water seconds later, splashing you entirely. You yelped but laughed, the droplets of chlorine landing in your mouth making you grimace, but you started splashing him as well.

Now that you were completely soaked from head to toe, you started having a lot of fun with your boyfriend; you played volleyball for the major part of the afternoon, being completely careless about the rules and the points, having a lot of fun instead. When you both started to feel tired, Hongjoong tossed the ball on the patio and swam towards you, scooping you in his arms. You wrapped your limbs around your boyfriend and sweetly kissed his cheek, the taste of the pool water lingering on your tongue. He rested your back against the pool wall and you laid your head on his collarbone, enjoying the calm proximity and the water slowly rocked your bodies together. Your boyfriend kissed your cheekbone and hugged you tightly against him, his arms under your thighs as he placed innocent kisses on your exposed skin. 

Although you were both barely dressed, it didn’t prevent the two of you to act cute and sweet. That’s actually what you needed; some peace. You didn’t need spicier activities for later, (you agreed on keeping that for the evening, not being particularly in the mood for that right now) enjoying each other’s company instead of being at it all the time, unlike some other couples that you knew. There was nothing wrong to act like that, it was just that now, you needed to rest together. “I love you,” you mumbled against his shoulder warmed by the sun, closing your eyes as the sunset wasn’t so far. “I love you too Y/N, I really do. I’m glad we get to spend a few days together without anyone else.” You could hear in his voice that he was smiling at your sudden confession, kissing your temple as you held him tighter.

After a few more moments in each other’s arms, you were starting to get cold in the water, so you decided to get out and call it a day. Walking to the bathroom, you showered as you tried to think of a good place to go get dinner. Once you were done washing the chemicals off your body, you got out of the steamy bathroom, one towel wrapped around your body and another in your hair.

“So baby, any ideas for tonight’s dinner plan?” Hongjoong asked as he was about to take your place in the bathroom. “I think my aunt recommended me a place, should we give it a try?”

The food at the Japanese restaurant over there was excellent, you were having a nice time with your boyfriend. The place was quite fancy so you had to dress up, and it was really worth the price. Once you were both done eating and paid the bill, you got out of the restaurant and immediately landed on the beach. You both took off your shoes and walked side by side, pinkies intertwined as you observed the surfers riding the last waves of the day. You closed your eyes and breathed deeply, letting the sea air and the warm sand engulfing you in a comforting embrace. The sound of the waves crashing had the effect of a tranquilliser on your body, it seemed like all your worries and anxiety had disappeared in a matter of seconds.

“Look Y/N, the sun is about to set, it’s beautiful,” you opened your eyes again and observed the scenery in front of you, Hongjoong getting his phone out to capture this precious moment. You smile as your boyfriend searches for the perfect angle and brightness for his photo. You giggled at his behaviour and turned his phone, seizing the moment to get a candid cliché of your laughing. You immediately stopped and tried to steal his phone to delete the picture, but he hid his phone in his back pocket and swiftly took both of your hands to stop you in your tracks. “Show me this picture, Joong,” your boyfriend shook his head with a pout on his face, which quickly changed into a smirk. “I won’t let you delete this picture,” he mumbled and you playfully frowned, trying to get out of his grip to steal his phone. “At least, show me?” you suggested and he shook his head again, placing himself behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his cheek against yours as you observed the sunset. “No, those are for my eyes only,” he mumbled and you sighed, a pout forming on your face, turning your head to look at him with puppy eyes. “This won’t work on me darling,” he smirked as you stomped your foot in the sand, your action almost didn’t reach your boyfriend’s ears. He pressed his lips against yours, the sensation feeling so great in your body that you instantly closed your eyes, your childish fight about the picture long forgotten. Wrapping your arms around his neck, he brings you closer to him, arms holding you tight against him as you both drowned into the love you had for each other. 

You ended the kiss breathless, Hongjoong’s eyes getting lost in your two orbits, a blissful smile drawn on his face as he cupped your cheeks. You looked absolutely wonderful with the last rays of sunshine hitting your face, your hair getting messy and wavy thanks to the sea wind that started blowing a few minutes ago.

“My angel,” he said out of the blue and you chuckled, shyly looking away at the pet name. “My love,” you answered and he took your hand before bending down your shoes that you had dropped during your lovely kiss, “let’s go home, it’s getting late.” “Can we get dessert before going home?” you asked and he turned his head, questioningly looking at you. “What kind?” “I don’t know… a crêpe, some ice cream?” you suggested and he nodded, walking you to the end of the beach. “Sounds great to me. Let’s go,” he held your hand while you wiped the sand off your feet to put on your shoes again before happily walking to the creperie that happened to be a few meters away from the restaurant you just visited.

#i'm so whipped for joong and the sea wtf my brain was mushy all the time #seonghwa look away pls #ateez scenarios #hongjoong soft imagines #ateez imagines #hongjoong #ateez #ateez soft #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #hongjoong fluff #hongjoong soft hours #ateez au #ateez fluff #ateez fluff imagines #ateez fluff imagine #ateez soft imagines #ateez soft hours #atee timestamp #ateez hongjoong #hongjoong soft blurbs #hongjoong timestamp #hongjoong fluff imagines #i tried BUT

[artificialqueens]

Galactica, Chapter 65 (Group Fic) - TheDane/Veronica

A/N: Chapter 65 seems like a good time to tell you that there’s nothing we love more than talking to you guys about this story! We are both on tumblr (@theartificialdane and @veronicasanders) and we’d love to hear from you!! We also have other Galactica content there under the “galactica” and “galactica wardrobe” tags. XOXO!! Click here if you’re looking for previous chapters (or here if you’d rather read on AO3). 💫

Last Chapter: Bianca threw a wrench in the annual holiday party when she brought Courtney as her date, and Katya tried to (not) deal with her surprise pregnancy.

This Chapter: Miss Fame and the team work on the final lineup for the spring runway, and Katya figures some things out.

***

It was Violet’s luck that she was a light sleeper, the first note of her alarm barely ringing before she had grabbed her phone from under her pillow and turned it off.

There really wasn't a need for Violet to wake up at 6, for her to start her day so early since she couldn’t go to the gym because of her ankle, but habits were hard to break, and she liked how quiet the world was in the morning, how it felt like she was the only one awake.

She wasn’t hungover, had barely had a drink because of her crutches, but she had a feeling all of her coworkers would be wearing sunglasses and asking each other to shut up, the Friday after the Christmas party always an experience.

Sutan’s bedroom was dark, his curtains swallowing the ever present lights of Harlem, the man asleep next to her, his head resting on his pillow.

It took everything in Violet not to reach out and run her fingers through his hair.

She had been so annoyed with him last night, so uncomfortable in the beautiful red dress she had bought with his money, the simmering anger not leaving her until she had felt Sutan’s clever fingers undo the zipper on her back, skin against skin finally freeing her from the smoldering fire.

“Stop staring at me.” Violet froze, Sutan’s voice deep with sleep.

“I’m not.”

“Oh?” Sutan cracked an eye open, a smile playing on his lips as he reached out, grabbing her hip on top of her blanket. “Could have fooled me.”

“Well,” Violet smiled back, allowing him to pull her in, “Maybe I was. A little bit.”

***

As her alarm sounded, Courtney groaned, burying her head into Bianca’s neck. Bianca laughed, reaching over to hit snooze, giving them a few more precious minutes in bed before Courtney had to get up.

Bianca had never been much of a morning person, but she’d discovered that, in many ways, this was her favorite part of the day. When the world was dark and still, and they were curled together under the covers, naked and warm. She trailed her fingers up and down Courtney’s back, pressed a kiss to her temple.

“You okay, sunshine?” Bianca asked.

“Mmmhmm...I just don’t want to go to work.”

Bianca smiled, one hand settling into the curve of Courtney’s waist, enjoying the way they fit so perfectly together.

“Then don’t,” she stated, warming up to the idea of taking a day off, just the two of them. “Call in sick.”

“I wish,” Courtney scoffed, a deep sigh leaving her. “But I can’t, so…”

“Why not?”

“The day after a party? Everyone will think I have some crazy hangover.”

“Yeah, so?” Bianca laughed.

“Plus, I’m pretty sure Miss Fame is less than pleased with me right now. I don’t want to give her any reason to be annoyed. And there’s a big meeting to decide on the spring runway, and I have to-”

“Alright, alright...forget I suggested it,” Bianca said, holding up her hands in surrender. “I just really liked the idea of spending all day in bed with you.”

Courtney raised herself up on her elbow, gazing down at Bianca with a dreamy smile on her face.

“Maybe, um...can we do that tomorrow?”

“You’re on, angel,” Bianca said, reaching up to run her fingers through her hair.

“And...we still have about seven minutes before the alarm goes off again.” Courtney brushed her lips against Bianca’s neck, murmuring, “You wanna go back to sleep, or…?”

“Hmmm...” Bianca cocked her head, pretending to think. “I may have some other ideas…”

Courtney let out a delighted squeal as Bianca flipped her onto her back with a wicked grin.

***

Maxwell groaned as a loud clatter sounded through the design floor.

“Sorry!” Kiara whisper-shouted, quickly picking up the pair of scissors she had dropped. Trixie had gone to the department head meeting about 20 minutes ago, which meant that everyone had given up the pretense that they were working. Alexis had gone straight for the couch to take a nap as soon as the door had closed behind him, April still nursing a terrible-looking green smoothie at her desk. “Sorry everyone!”

“Don’t even think about it girl!” Bob smiled, his phone pressed between his shoulder and his ear, and Maxwell groaned again, sliding down so he could rest his head on his arms, Bob chatting away.

He loved his boyfriend, he really did, but there were few things more annoying than when Bob had managed to get into any tabloid, the perceived fame of it always going directly to his head. And of course, it was made even worse by his friends and family back home in Georgia playing right into it, acting as if it meant anything at all.

“Listen, I didn’t ask to be born fabulous, but it’s my cross to bear, and I’m-” Bob laughed, adding, “Exactly!”

“He’s really getting into it, huh?” Maxwell looked up to see Violet standing next to his desk, looking over at Bob, Jovan at her side holding three cups of coffee.

“Here,” Jovan smiled, giving one of them to Maxwell, the scent filling his nose.

“Oh god I love you,” Maxwell grinned, taking the liquid magic. It was probably not healthy to be on his third cup already, but he didn’t care.

“Love you too boo,” Jovan grinned, taking a seat on the edge of his desk, Violet doing the same, balancing her crutch so she could take her own cup. They didn’t talk, and Maxwell loved that, Violet fitting so nicely into their little boys club that he barely even thought about the fact that she was a girl and straight most days.

***

“Pearl! Pay attention!”

Pearl snapped out of it, the wheels of her chair squeaking as she moved, her eyes wide open at the commanding tone in Fame’s voice.

“Sorry!” Pearl sat up straight, Bendela hiding a snicker behind a sketchbook, her brown eyes clearly filled with delight over Pearl getting reprimanded.

“God,” Fame rolled her eyes, her hand on her hip, her outfit of the day a white cropped cashmere sweater and white linen high waisted pants, her blonde hair in a high delicate updo, a golden belt snug around her waist. “Did anyone come to work today?”

If they had been alone, Pearl would have opened her mouth to point out that she was the one who always arranged for the Christmas party to be on a Thursday, but they weren’t, so Pearl kept her mouth shut.

“Fame,” Raja’s voice was warm, and it apparently functioned just as intended, her tone a soothing balm on whatever had Fame into such a tizzy. “We’re almost done.”

If Pearl had to make an educated guess, she’d say it was probably the whole Courtney and Bianca thing, though it could be anything from her breakfast grapefruit not being ripe to morning traffic to a photographer catching a bad angle of her last night.

“You’re right,” Fame sat back down, sliding her chair over to Trixie. “So, fourth look. What do you have?”

“I was thinking about these pants?” Trixie held out a sketch, and Pearl folded her hands over her stomach, watching her best friend do his job exceptionally well.

Fame tapped her fingers against the table, french tips hitting the wood and Pearl made a mental note to see if she could sneak in a visit to Fame’s office, providing their boss with an orgasm before lunch a great Christmas gift to everyone in the company.

***

V-List Alert: BDR’s Latest Blonde Bombshell

[Pictured: A large photo of Bianca and Courtney kissing on the red carpet, along with a few smaller shots of them looking giggly and affectionate. And lastly, a grainy, low-res photo of them on the street after the event, kissing while a driver is opening the car door.]

Well, well, well…

Okay, so to begin with, let’s all admit that BDR showing up on a red carpet with some sweet young thing is nothing new. In fact, it would be strange if she didn’t. But the shameless PDA last night at Galactica’s annual Christmas party—both on and off the carpet—had us wondering...who the hell is the new paramour?

We did a bit of digging and strap in kids, cause it gets juicy…

Turns out that this little darling is named Courtney Jenek. Sound familiar? No? Yeah it shouldn’t. But she happens to have two very interesting connections to BDR: 1, apparently she’s friends with B’s baby sister, princess of the underground punk scene Adore Delano. And 2, even more hilariously, Lil Courtney here is the Executive Assistant to none other than Miss Fame of Galactica.

Wonder what the illustrious and brand-conscious Miss Fame thinks of her bestie using her staff in what appears to be an extremely filthy unprofessional way? And how’s it all gonna play out?

We can’t wait to watch this drama unfold…

***

As Courtney slipped on her coat and grabbed her bag to head downstairs for yet another coffee run, she glanced at her personal phone, laughing to herself when she saw the 17 missed calls from Morgan. She scrolled through the text messages in the elevator.

MORGAN: COURTNEYYYYYYYY!!!

MORGAN: OMG PICK UP

MORGAN: WERE YOU PLANNING TO TELL US YOU’RE FUCKING BIANCA DEL RIO?????

TYRA: She’s WHAT

ADORE: You guys didn’t know? ;)

TATIANNA: Yawn, old news :p

MORGAN: BITCH

MORGAN: COURTNEY I SWEAR TO GOD IF YOU DON’T PICK UP

MORGAN: COURTNEYCOURTNEYCOURTNEYCOURTNEYCOURTNEY

Courtney called her back, laughing some more when she picked up even before the first ring.

“You know I’m working, right?”

“I am going to murder you,” Morgan announced.

“Wow Morgan. A hate crime? I really thought more highly of you,” Courtney replied with a giggle.

“Omigod, shut up! How could you not have told me already?!”

“Well...I don’t know, I wasn’t sure what it was at first-” she said.

“It’s still fucking major!” Morgan laughed. “I guess it makes sense, though. God, you always chose the worst men.”

Courtney chuckled, nodding as she exited the elevator and headed for the coffee shop.

“So what did your parents say?”

“Uhhh...I haven’t exactly told them yet.”

“Courtney!”

“What? It’s not gonna be dramatic or anything, you know my brother’s gay.”

“Omigod, Court, you absolute idiot. You have to-”

“One sec.” Courtney lowered her phone to give the orders for the meeting, then went back to the phone. “Sorry, I’m on a coffee run.”

“Yeah, I heard. Listen, Courtney, you have to tell them! Do you really want them to find out that you’re dating a woman who’s almost twice your age from a fucking tabloid?”

“I don’t think my parents subscribe to American fashion blogs.”

“Did you even read the link I sent you?! Someone’s gonna send it to them, trust me.”

“Alright, alright, I’ll tell them,” Courtney told her with an eye roll. She really didn’t see the big deal though; telling her parents was the last thing on her list of worries at the moment.

“Also…” Morgan’s voice lowered, taking on a sing-song, teasing tone now that the business was out of the way, “When are we hanging out? ‘Cause you know I absolutely need all the sordid details.”

“Soon, I promise.”

“Tomorrow night?”

“I’m kind of busy tomorrow,” Courtney admitted.

“Busy getting railed, you mean?”

“Maybe…”

“Ha, you slag.”

***

Maybe she was avoiding going home. That was certainly possible. But on Friday, Katya just seemed to keep finding things to do to prepare for the next week of school. It would be their last week before winter break, so she knew that any kind of serious learning would be difficult. Rather than spend her time fighting with the kids to focus when they just weren’t capable of it, she planned as many fun projects as possible, and though a lot of them were old hat for her by now, the prep work never seemed to end.

Which is why, when Jasmine, the woman who ran the afterschool program, came to her door at almost 6:45, she was still there.

“Hey, I’m sorry to bother you…”

“It’s no bother, come on in,” Katya said, a big smile on her face, especially when she saw that Jasmine had Grace with her--one of Katya’s favorite students.

“You know we close at 6, and Grace’s mom is running late today,” Jasmine said. Her tone of voice was light and cheerful, but her eyes told Katya a different story--that this wasn’t the first time it had happened, and that she was likely furious. “I gotta get home, and Dani’s out with the flu, so...do you mind keeping her here until Leslie shows up? It should be soon, she texted me ten minutes ago that she’s on the way.”

“No problem. We’ll have a great time, won’t we Grace?”

The little girl nodded, skipping into the classroom happily.

“You’re a lifesaver,” Jasmine said. “Thank you!”

Katya turned to Grace, who had dumped her jacket and backpack on the rug and was already prowling around the book bins, likely looking for her favorite Junie B. Jones stories. Soon, the two of them were settled into bean bag chairs in the comfy zone, Katya reading a few chapters out loud to her before realizing that she was probably hungry and suggesting a snack. Grace was just finishing her juice box and goldfish crackers when her young mother, Leslie, came rushing inside, harried and out of breath, apologizing profusely.

“Mama!” Grace jumped up from her seat at the little table, knocking the chair over in her excitement to leap into her mom’s arms. She hugged her tightly, face buried in her neck, and Katya could see some of the tension in Leslie’s face melt away.

Katya stood up from her own seat, picking up the book they’d been reading.

“I’m gonna put this book in Grace’s backpack so that you can finish it together this weekend,” she said, and Leslie shot her a look of pure gratitude, nodding.

“Grace, can you say thank you to Mrs. Zamo?”

“Thank you Mrs. Zamo!” she echoed cheerfully, taking the backpack and her jacket as Leslie dropped a kiss to the top of her head.

“Honey, can you go wait for me on the bench for a minute?” she asked, tugging gently on one of her pigtails.

“Okay!”

As Grace skipped into the hallway to wait, Leslie turned to Katya, tears filling her eyes.

“I’m really so sorry about being late, I-”

“It’s okay,” Katya said, head tilted sympathetically. “I get it, things happen.”

“It’s been happening all week. I got this new job, and the hours are so tough and the commute is shit, but it’s an extra two dollars an hour and I can’t say no to that. But I just feel like...I feel like I can’t do anything right.”

“I understand,” Katya nodded, putting a hand on her arm. The truth was, though, she didn’t understand. Not really. She’d never been in a position where an extra two dollars an hour would make such a big difference in her life--not even when her dad cut her off. She’d always had money, and by the time her trust fund was depleted, she was living with Trixie, whose generous salary more than covered what they needed, her meager teacher’s salary mostly paying for fun extras, keeping them entertained and living their best lives, or just going in the bank.

She knew she was lucky, but until that moment, seeing the pain in Leslie’s eyes, the fear that she was failing at life and failing her child, maybe she didn’t understand just how lucky.

“I was sitting on the bus thinking about her waiting and waiting, wondering where I was.”

“Can I tell you something?” she asked softly. “Grace didn’t care that you were late, she was just happy to see you when you got here, because it’s really obvious what a good mom you are.”

“Sometimes I feel like the worst mom ever,” Leslie admitted, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“No way. Grace is an amazing kid. She’s smart and kind and enthusiastic--and it’s totally okay if you need some more help. That’s what all of us are here for. I can talk to Jasmine about maybe extending the hours next week, until you can get your schedule sorted. Or maybe Grace can go home with Joey’s mom...don’t you all live in the same building?”

Leslie nodded, a deep sigh leaving her. “Thanks, that’s a good idea. I...I’ll figure it out.”

“Okay. Just remember that you’re not in this alone, you know?” Katya handed over a box of tissues from her desk.

“Yeah. Thanks. Sorry, I-” Leslie wiped her eyes.

“Don’t be sorry,” Katya said, giving her a warm hug.

***

“Oh god!” Gigi groaned, pushing the door to the modeling apartment open, her shoulders aching, her fingertips numb. “Finally!” She dumped her bags down in the hallway, slumping against the wall.

She had been around the town with Sutan all day, shopping for what he called a model wardrobe, Gigi trying on several pairs of heels and flats, her new backpack and purse stuffed with a newly printed book and her brand new phone, their last stop of the day Gigi’s new gym that was just around the corner.

“Gigi?” Bimini popped her head out of the kitchen door, the golden rim around her eyes and her crimped hair clear indicators that meant she had been shooting, Bimini rarely bothering with removing hair and makeup on set. “Welcome home sweetie! How did it go?”

“I’m exhausted!” Gigi pushed out from the wall and kicked her sneakers off. “Who knew shopping could be that hard?”

Gigi heard Symone giggle, her friend sitting at the table and painting her nails, the apartment's newest arrival chopping vegetables for whatever vegan crock pot Bimini was cooking for everyone. They had someone new arrive every couple of days, most girls only staying for a night or two in the bunk beds in what Naomi had dubbed the summer camp room before they were shipped off again if they didn’t interest any of the agents.

“I told you, didn’t I?”

“I know,” Gigi groaned, dumping down in a chair to rest her aching feet, “but I thought you were kidding.” Symone had gone on the trip two weeks ago, her Instagram exploding with content now that she had a brand new phone to post with.

“Did he give you the drink speech too?”

She had eaten lunch with Sutan at an awkwardly fancy restaurant, three sets of cutlery surrounding her plate, her manager going through each set as well as her wine glasses, explaining it to her. Gigi’s mom had always insisted on good manners, but it hadn’t been anything like that.

“The ‘never leave your drink unattended’ one, I mean.”

“Mmh,” Gigi nodded. “The whole entire speech.”

She hoped it’d be unnecessary, but Sutan had run her through what he called the basic safety procedures like putting a hand or a napkin over her glass when she wasn’t paying attention, her manager drilling it into her skull that she shouldn’t accept poured drinks or opened bottles from strangers in clubs unless she saw the bartender prepare it.

“Is he seriously doing all that?” Naomi raised an eyebrow. “So far, all my agent has told me is that if I showed up in any tabloid looking messy, he’d drop my ass.”

Suddenly, Sutan’s mothering didn’t feel as smothering, the attention and assistance the man had poured over her nothing compared to the terrifying thought of being left basically on her own like Naomi.

***

At first, Katya wasn’t sure why she stopped at Macy’s on the way home. Especially now, on a Friday night during the holiday season, when the sales clerks were at their most frazzled.

She wandered around, unable to get Grace and Leslie out of her mind...and in particular, the look of pure joy on Grace’s face when her mother appeared in the doorway. Leslie was a single mom, and by the look of her, she was pretty young, but she had managed to raise an exceptional kid who was sure how much she was loved.

Why was Katya so afraid of having a baby? It was like she’d told Leslie--she wouldn’t be doing it alone. Not by a long shot. No, she was fortunate to have the most wonderful man in the universe by her side. And lord knew, Trixie would make up for any maternal instincts she may lack herself. And plenty of people, people much less capable and loving than her, had babies every day.

She stopped, looking around, realizing that she’d found herself in the baby department. Specifically, in front of a shelf full of tiny little infant shoes. She smiled to herself, knowing exactly what she needed.

When she arrived home, she was thrilled to see that Trixie had prepared dinner, heating up some leftover chicken and mashed potatoes and throwing together a salad--exactly what she was in the mood for.

She smiled when she saw him, announcing, “I brought you a present.”

Trixie’s face lit up, and for a split second she could imagine that exact same expression of joy on a tiny child, the thought making her insides warm as she handed him the little bag.

He looked inside, where the two tiny pink moccasin slippers sat in their plastic box, his head then snapping up to look at her with an expression of amazement.

“Kat, are you-” His eyes were bright with tears, hopeful but still a bit tentative.

She shrugged slightly, self-consciously, afraid to say what she’s been thinking out loud, but Trixie seemed to know anyway.

He rushed forward and swept her up into the biggest, tightest hug she’d ever had, repeating over and over how wonderful she was going to be. She took his face in her hands, kissing his tear-stained cheeks, finally sure that as a team, they could do it.

#rpdr fanfiction #thedane #veronica #galactica #vitan #bitney #bob x cracker #trixya #violet chachki #raja gemini #courtney act #bianca del rio #miz cracker #bob the drag queen #yvie oddly #pearl liaison #miss fame #trixie mattel #morgan mcmichaels #katya zamolodchikova #gigi goode #symone #bimini bon boulash #naomi smalls #lesbian au #m/f au #fashion au

[trashfox6]

The Scars On Your Skin

[My entry for Khunbam week Day 3: Comfort/Injury]

Thin steady fingers brush against his skin, right beneath his ribs and Khun resists the urge to shiver.

"And this one?" Bam asks him, voice hushed and soft as his fingers press against the old scar. Moonlight streams in from the window, twisting in the air and spilling over the bedsheets as it illuminates Bam's face,and it makes a giddy feeling rise up in Khun's chest as those familiar gold eyes blink up at him.

Khun glances down at where Bam's fingers are pressed, eyeing the old scar that was near faded with time. "I think it was Hand of Arlene. The Armor Inventory took most of the damage but it cut into my skin with the weight of the rocks."

A low hiss escapes Bam and his fingers press more insistently against the old jagged scar. "A simple cut doesn't leave a scar like this, Khun-ssi."

Khun shrugs. Sure, it had broken a few of his ribs and pierced through the skin but that's what happens when a whole building explodes on top of you. He had survived it and that was enough.

"I'm sorry."

Molten eyes of honey gold gaze at him, filled with regret, so much regret and it makes Khun want to reach out, to touch him, to do something to erase the sadness in them.

So he does, and the euphoria of being able to, of not holding back, he can have this, is soaring through his nerves, singing siren in his veins. Khun cups Bam's face with his hand, rubbing his thumb in slow circles against the soft cheek and Bam leans into the motion, nuzzling into the hand with a sigh.

Khun presses a soft kiss against the other cheek before murmuring, "I'm not. If it hadn't been for that, maybe I wouldn't have met you again and kept believing you were dead, Bam. Maybe we would still be living like that, you alone in FUG and I would be climbing the tower, living a nightmare. And if it means having you here with me now, I'm not sorry about that." 

His words float in the air and he watches the regret in those golden eyes ease, melting away like snow until Bam is looking at him, relaxed and ethereal in the glow of the moonlight. Satisfaction burns low and steady in his gut, the knowledge that he has the ability to reach Bam like this, ease his worries and it's addictive, to have this, to be this to Bam.

His boyfriend - boyfriend gods is that really what they are now - presses a kiss into his palm and gives him a shy smile, soft lips curling up into an expression that makes Khun's head dizzy.

"I'm glad things aren't like that. I'm glad I can be with Khun-ssi and everyone like this again," Bam tells him before pulling back from Khun to return to his earlier task, mapping out the scars on Khun's skin, nimble fingers tracing patterns into his skin and sending shivers up his spine, electric and tingling.

Bam's fingers glide over his skin before pressing against the long thin line across Khun's stomach. "This was-"

"Kiseia," Khun completes his sentence quietly and watches as color drains from his boyfriend's face. Bam's eyebrows draw together in distress, bottom lip trapped beneath his teeth as he stared at the scar left on Khun's skin, the remnants of the old ghosts of his past. 

"I was so scared," Bam confesses, and his thumb rubs against the clean line and sends heat twisting under his skin as he peers up at Khun from under long lashes, eyes clouded and heavy with the tangible tension between them.

"You were bleeding so much, Khun-ssi. I was-" his voice cracks and he cuts off. Bam lets out a long low breath, frustrated, closing his eyes. He stays like that for a few moments, taking deep breaths in and out until the frustration drains out, his fingers tapping rhythmically, before looking at him again.

Bam looks at him as if he's searching for something, sunshine eyes piercing through his skin and burying into Khun's heart. Khun doesn't know what he's looking for so he smiles back at Bam, as reassuring as he can make it, to put all his love for this man in his expression. 

He probably looks sappy. He feels sappy and dear god, what has Bam done to him? But Khun can't regret it, not when Bam looks at him like that, as if the world itself started and ended at him.

Bam nods to himself. Whatever he was searching for in Khun's face, he seems to have found it because he leaned down until his face was hovering near Khun's stomach. 

Khun gasps at the sensation of warm lips barely brushing his skin, right over the scar left by Kiseia. When he looks down, his eyes meet Bam's, honey gold swirling into something darker and the sight is a forbidden thrill that sends heat coiling through him.

"Is this okay?" Bam murmurs against his skin, his hot breath fanning across Khun's skin, sending a crimson flush rising up his whole body.

Always. The word sits in Khun's throat and he lets it. Not yet. He can't say it yet but there's certainty resting under his skin, in the way Bam looks at him and he knows he'll be able to tell him one day.

So instead Khun nods and Bam smiles at him like he's hung the moon in the sky before those same warm lips are pressing soft kisses into the skin of his stomach, and it takes all of his willpower to not melt because dear god where did Bam learn to do this? When did he learn how to kill Khun with his gentle kisses, scoring desire with each press of his mouth, breath hot hot hot against Khun's skin like an inferno burning under those lips.

When Bam raises his head again, his eyes are dark and intent, focused as his fingers skim up from Khun's stomach to just above his heart before his expression freezes, eyes catching on the vibrant scar there. 

"That's-"

"The bomb Rachel put," Khun finishes for him. Bam's fingers trace the edges of the giant scar, and Khun lets him. 

It's an ugly scar, all gnarly and jagged edges, purple and yellow and still healing. To him, it still feels like yesterday. But for Bam, it was 3 years ago. 3 years of Khun being asleep, not being by Bam's side.

"Does it still hurt?" The question is murmured to him, voice soft, so soft that Khun would have missed it if they weren't sitting close like this. 

"It doesn't hurt at all. The Yeon flame healed it," he reaches out to grip the hand laying on his heart before intertwining their fingers and squeezing Bam's hand reassuringly. "I'm okay now, Bam."

The other man squeezes his hand in return, his expression softening. 

"I'm sorry for that too. I shouldn't have brought her along with us. Endorsi even warned me and I didn't listen."

Oh Bam. 

No matter what happened, Bam was Bam. Kind, so kind and sincere in every breath and everything that he was and how could Khun not fall in love with this man who shone like the brightest star in the sky?

Khun wraps his arms around Bam's waist, using that as leverage to tug him closer until he had Bam in his lap and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead.

"Listen to me, Bam. That was not your fault. That choice was hers and hers alone. Her actions are not your responsibility and they never should be." Khun tucked a stray bang of hair behind Bam's ear as he watched Bam digest his words but knowing that no matter what he said, it wasn't that easy to erase those years of pain and Bam blaming himself. But that's okay. He's willing to remind Bam for as long as it takes.

"Besides," and here Khun smirks, leaning his lips close to Bam's ear to whisper, "I heard you went to avenge me. I'm very flattered, you know."

A rosy blush spreads across Bam's cheeks, and it warms Khun's chest like a ray of bright sunlight.

Bam turns around in his arms to face him, and for a moment something flickers in his eyes, wildfire and raging and lost, as he gazes at Khun's face. 

When Bam looks at him like this, it steals Khun's breath away. Bam looks at him like- like the sun rose and set with Khun, as if all the amazing things in the world couldn't match whatever it was that he was seeing in Khun's face. 

"I had to. She nearly killed you, Khun-ssi. And she was proud of it. I couldn't- I can't forgive that," the words tumble out of Bam's mouth, jagged and hurting. 

"I don't think I could live with losing you again."

It takes everything in Khun to not pull him into a kiss right then. The utter sincerity of his anger on Khun's behalf is… touching didn't even begin to cover it. He had accepted years ago that Rachel's existence was one that Bam would keep chasing as far as he could. 

But Bam had chosen Khun. 

Bam had chosen Khun and the realisation of that made his chest feel heavy with something that burnt bright and fierce and dangerous, wrapping around his heart with a satisfied purr.

He grasps Bam's hands instead, bringing them to rest above the scar on his heart, covering them with his own. "I know. I'm right here. You haven't lost me and you're not going to."

Bam's eyes shift from his face to their hands and back but he doesn't pull away. Instead he sits there, feeling Khun's heart beating under his fingers and Khun lets him.

Khun would let him do that all his life if that's what it takes to assure Bam he's going to stay by his side. 

It takes a few moments until Bam starts relaxing and Khun lets go of his hands, leaning back with a smirk to ask softly, "You were doing something, weren't you?"

Bam's eyes flit up to meet his before a stunning smile crosses his face as he nods. His fingers return to traversing the expanse of Khun's chest, curiously poking at the other scars littered on Khun's body.

His fingers pause at the blooming red bruise still visible on Khun's neck and this time it's Khun who feels his face warming up. Bam's fingers brush across the bruise lightly, so lightly the touch is barely there and yet it sets his nerves alight.

Bam's mouth is curled up into a smile that looks sweet but feels tinted with far too much mischief to be good for Khun's heart as he reaches out to brush his fingers against the hickey on Khun's neck again. 

This time Khun can't hold back the excited gasp that escapes his lips and Bam chuckles, the sound low and rumbling and shooting liquid need into his veins. 

Khun reaches out to tug a lock of brown hair, "That was mean, Bam."

The look Bam gives him is filled with innocence and Khun doesn't believe an inch of it. It's amazing how well Bam can pull that look off even now when Khun knows he isn't as innocent he looks.

Bam seems to get the hint however and his fingers resume their journey across Khun's skin, pausing to tap at his collarbones with a cheerful hum here and there in between, leaning forward to press fleeting kisses against each faded scar.

He asks Khun about each scar, from the tiniest cuts to the calluses on his fingers and Khun tells him, each piece fragmenting and spinning and coming together, a kaleidoscope of memories, of the pieces that make up Khun Aguero Agnes. 

It should feel scary, this. Telling anyone about the parts and jagged edges of himself and how they fit together and fell apart, this should feel terrifying. And yet with the gentle fondness in Bam's tired eyes, with his firm fingers pressed against Khun's skin, fear is but a distant dream.

Bam listens to him like Khun is telling him the secrets to the universe and it makes warm glowing satisfaction burn deep in his throat, in his heart, wrapped under his skin like the most comforting blanket.

#khunbamweek2020 #day 3 #tower of god #tower of god spoilers #tog spoilers #khunbam #khun Aguero Agnes #25th bam #god i don't know what I was doing with this #i just had a vague idea and ran with it #that probably describes all my writing tbh #my writing #i occasionally write?? can you believe

[fireheartfaery]

Day 7: “You’re a bad liar did you know?”

masterlist; my links

college AU

TW: panic attacks, mentions of anxiety

Yrene is late. Again. In her twenty three years of life she has strived to be as punctual as her aunt, early by exactly three minutes. But in the last week, with finals looming over her like the death towers they used to sneak into in their teens, she has pulled all-nighters that haven't quite managed to turn into all-dayers. In short she's exhausted, and so is her alarm. Which is why, at 8:02 in the morning she stands in the line at their university café, waiting rather impatiently for her turn at the counter. Her foot taps on the ground, unconsciously, fingers drumming on folded arms. Calculations and anatomy are spinning in her brain as she visualizes the huge whiteboard covered in notes above her bed. Strategically placed their in case gaining information by osmosis may suddenly become a thing and she can actually get smarter in her sleep.

Her phone buzzes in her pocket and with an irritated frown she whips it out.

How are you feeling? Chaol's name flashes across the screen.

She smiles as she slides the screen open and types out a reply to her best friend. Like if i don’t get a liter of coffee i’m going to keel over and die.

He sends wide eyed emojis, please don't drink a liter of coffee. You will die.

hey, She laughs at his worry. Always worrying. who's supposed to be the doctor here? Me or you?

Before she can read his reply a throat is clearing behind her, and a hand is waving in her peripheral vision.

She looks up and realizes there's no-one in front of her. She's holding up the line. Her cheeks burn like coal as she stumbles to the counter. "I'll uh, I'll have my usual." Why is her heart beating so fast? "Large black with a dash of hazelnut."

"Sure, is that all?"

She cannot even breathe, the scratchy fabric of her polo neck is tightening around her neck. "Yes thanks!" She chokes out, laying far too many notes on the counter and dashing out.

Air, the colour of glaciers and mirror fragments, snaps at her skin. She let's it. Her breathing, erratic and struggling fogs, up the pretty world. She sinks to the floor, back grazing the rough brick of the coffee shop. The world is moving in and out of focus. Toffee being stretched and molded around her throat.

A hand lands on her knee.

"Hey," The voice is gentle. It sounds like a muffled echo in her ears. "My name is Mor. I think you're having a panic attack. Is there something I can do to help?"

Yrene looks up, she sees blonde waves and pretty brown. Her throat tightens. She's definitely not breathing. Where has the world gone?

"Okay i’m going to ask you to do something for me." That voice is still so soft. Sweet like her aunt's candied apples.

"Can you try to take a deep breath for me." If she was listening she would have scoffed. "And while you do that I want you to point out five things you can see." There's a beat. "Can you do that?"

She wants to ask how she's supposed to talk when her lungs have been squished like grapes. They will not make flavourful wine.

"Just point with your finger." Mor says.

Yrene sucks in a breath. It is as shaky as a smoker's hands.

She points her index finger at the woman in front of her.

"One." The blonde says.

She points to the ground; can feel the cool under her nails.

"Two."

Her finger catches on the book that had spilled from her bag when she collapsed against the wall.

"Three."

She looks at the sky. It is grey. It is there. She points.

"Four." The quiet smile on her golden lips is back. "Just one more."

Yrene wants to point to her ribcage. To show it isn't expanding. She is going to die. She points to the necklace hanging around her throat instead, the owl pendant warm from her skin.

"Five." Mor holds her hands. She cannot feel the heat radiating of her skin. She cannot feel anything. "Can you tell me four things you can touch?“

She is faster this time. Confused, but clearing. The wool of her jumper. The sunshine locks of the girl in front of her. The fluffy keychain Elide had got her at the start of the year. The plant stubbornly growing out of the sidewalk.

"Three things you can hear?"

Her voice is croaky, strangled in a way she hasn't heard before. She uses it anyway. Because she can.

"The bell above the coffee shop." It tinkles in acknowledgment. Students walk out laughing. "The cars on the road." There's an expensive car in the midst of traffic. She can hear it's soft purr. "My breathing." It is loud and full of life in her ears. She is grateful.

"Two things you can smell?"

She takes a breath, let's the university fill up her body. "The melting snow. It smells like rain puddles, muddy and dirty and fun to play in."

"One more?"

“You." Her senses are all over the place. Her common sense has disappeared entirely. "You smell like cinnamon, and the faintest hint of soap."

The laugh is enough to settle the last of Yrene's frazzled nerves. It is bright and full and carries happiness like a bouquet. She settles, heart rate slowing, lungs expanding, contracting, skin feeling the first nips of cold once more.

"Does that mean you like the way I smell?" The blonde grins, squeezing their still joined hands.

She thinks about it for a second. "Yes." Her earth brown eyes collide with Mor's caramel gaze. "I think I do."

"Can you give me one thing you can taste?"

Yrene knows she's lost it when the first thing that's pops into her mind is the woman's lips. She shuts her eyes to the thought, feeling her bones sludge inside her. Everything aches. She's held herself up for so long.

"How about this?"

The bitter smell of coffee wafting between faint hazelnut greets her. She opens her eyes to see her order dangling between slender fingers. Taking the cup, she tips its back, letting the hot liquid spill down her throat. It warms her from the inside. It burns away the dregs of the panic, hiding in the folds of her. Waiting.

When the cup is drained she looks to Mor, who is sitting their patiently, observing the world.

"How did you know to do that?"

"I suffer from panic attacks and anxiety attacks. It works for me." She shrugs as if it is not a constant and exhausting force. "Also," A bright smile takes over her face, "I'm a psychology major."

"Can I book you as my therapist when you graduate?"

There's that laughter again. The one that lights up all her insides. "I have a while to go before I get to qualified therapist status."

"Really?" Yrene frowns, "How long does it take?"

"I have to get my masters before I can practice."

"Wow," Her mind is a little blown. The med students are so cut off from the rest of the faculties- maybe by choice, maybe by design- that learning about other degrees always blows her away. Just the other day Feyre was telling her about the art students and the portfolios they have to submit. She can't imagine sitting down to pick a topic and then pouring your heart and soul into it. Med school made sense. There was no grey slate, at least for the most part. This is where the ulna is. This is how to tie off your suture. This formula tells you how to blow up the lab. The last one had been an honest miskate... the first time.

"Do you think you can stand?" Mor gets up, as graceful as a flamingo, and then offers a hand.

Yrene takes it without hesitation. She marvels at the contrast between her earth brown skin and Mor's burnt gold. The richest colours in the world. The ones that glow under the sun.

"Can I walk you to your dorm?"

"I have to get to class. If I rush I can be there for the second half of the double."

"Uh," She winces, looking at the hello kitty watch on her wrist. "It's been an hour?"

Her eyes widen to the size of planets. "It's been what?" Her voice is high pitched. "Oh gods oh gods oh gods. What if I missed the exam briefing? What if prof said something vital? What if—"

"Hey!" Mor clamps down on her shoulder, turns her so they're facing each other. Yrene only slightly shorter. "You were in no state to go to class. You still aren't. You should go to your dorm and rest. Maybe eat some carbs. Is there anyone who can take notes for you? And relay information?"

She frowns, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth. "Well I guess Rowan is in that class, and Nesta."

"They will help you?"

She nods. She breathes.

"Wonderful." Mor smiles. It's is pretty enough that Yrene sees stars. "Then we'll walk to your dorm and I'll make sure you're settled with some chamomile tea and some cheese sandwiches and then I'll go to my own classes."

They start walking, sludgy snow squelching under their boots.

"Won't you be late for class?"

The blonde just grins. She decides not to ask.

"You know I don't know your name?"

"Guess," It's her turn to be all mysterious and cheeky.

Mor looks at her closely, eyes traveling unashamedly from the top of her screwed curls to the tops of her black wellingtons.

"Irene."

She stumbles over herself. Looks at the woman alongside her. There isn’t enough oxygen in the world for her gasp of shock. "That's not it."

The blonde scrunches her nose in amusement. "“You’re a bad liar did you know?”

She sticks out her tongue. "How did you..."

"My friends call me Truth-Speaker."

"That's creepy." She raises a brow. It just makes Mor grin wider. "It's Yrene with a Y not an I."

"Pretty," She mumbles. "My full name is Morrigan."

"Pretty." She echoes. "Hey, you want to come drink chamomile tea and eat carbs with me?“

The blonde clasps their hands together beaming at the leaking blue sky.

"I'd love nothing more, Yrene."

She sees, touches, hears, smells, and tastes the happiness that clings to them as they step into the dorm.

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

When i originally thought up the idea for this Mor was supposed to be the new barista and Yrene the regular and they would meet-embarrassing when Mor gets the order wrong. Do not ask me how it turned into this?

I hope i have been sensitive about this topic and portrayed Yrene and her panic attack properly.

Tags:

 @nishlicious-01​

#Day 7 #Valentines day crackship challenge #Mor x Yrene #Yrene x mor #Crackships keep fandom alive #FDS fanfic #FDS series

[free-pool-trash]

tequila - warren worthington iii

nobody asked for this and it’s nothing but like here it is. i haven’t slept in 28 hours. this is bad but anyway. u and warren get drunk on tequila and make out. that’s literally it.

word count: 1,532

warning(s): drinking, kissing, peter maximoff being ur best friend because i said so, idk if i even swore in this but im gonna throw that in there anyway

masterlist

Everything was bright, the grounds of the academy were covered in a layer of warm golden sunlight.

Summer had just come in, the sun had come out to prove it and you were quite happy with the change in the weather. You were laying in the grass outside of Xavier's school, the sun beams hitting your face and casting an almost ethereal glow over you.

Warren watched you from afar, Peter Maximoff laid beside you on the grass making you laugh and smile like he always seemed to be able to do no matter what. Warren would never admit it, but he was jealous, extremely so. 

He wanted to lay out in the sun with you, to be able to make you laugh and smile even if you were about to cry, he wanted what you and Peter had- and some more.

Despite your closeness to the speedster, you weren't dating Peter, Warren knew that but he still wished it was him that was always so close to you.

The winged blond however always held his cards close to his chest. His admiration for you was huge, sure, but it was also silent. You didn't have a clue about what he thought about you, in fact you had almost been sure that he disliked you.

You'd never actually received more than a nod from him, you'd seen him talk to others, to Peter, but he rarely ever opened his mouth to say anything more than a 'hey' to you. 

How were you to know that the boy was simply guarding himself? You weren't a mind reader, unfortunately, and the only reason you knew that he didn't absolutely despise you was the fact that he often teamed up with you during training.

As you enjoyed the sunshine, you felt his eyes on you from across the courtyard, you turned your head toward him, his green eyes were brought out by the way the light hit them when your eyes locked with his, you gave him a soft smile before you  turned your face back to look at Peter.

"Warren's staring at us again." You said, to which Peter only laughed and moved closer to you, whispering in your ear.

"I heard from Ororo that he's got a thing for you." Letting out a laugh of disbelief you shoved Peter playfully.

"Yeah right, he barely says two words to me outside of training." You rebutted only for Peter to shrug and flop his head into your shoulder, "Then why does he look like he's gonna murder me?"

To be fair, Peter did have a point, Warren did seem to be looking at the pair of you with an almost murderous glare.

You couldn't help but giggle as you ruffled your best friend's silver hair, "Maybe he's got a thing for you, Petey." 

Peter laughed wholeheartedly, poking your sides and making you laugh as loud as he was, "Shut up."

"Should I try talking to him at the party later?" You asked, eyes falling on Warren, the way the sunlight hit him made him come across like some kind of Greek god.

"Definitely. He'll be easier to talk to after you both get some liquid courage." Peter encouraged you and you nodded determined to get to the bottom of the winged boy.

There was a party happening that night, a celebration for a successful mission and also a celebration of the good weather, Charles was a sucker for a good barbeque party. 

After a few more hours of soaking up the sun with Peter by your side you decided to go to your room to get ready for the party.

You changed into a dress that was appropriate (but not so appropriate that you didn't turn a few heads), it was a sundress with a fitted top and a flowing skirt that ended just above your knee. You threw on your white converse, so you didn't look too dressed up, checked yourself out in the mirror then headed down to the lake where everyone was partying.

"Damn, who are you tryna impress tonight?" Peter's voice rang out mockingly from behind you before you felt his arm slinging over your shoulder, red solo cup with cheap beer in hand.

"Someone who isn't here apparently." You said, dejected as you looked around and the winged boy you were looking for was nowhere to be found.

Before you knew it, Peter had sped away only to return two seconds later with a triumphant grin on his face and a bottle of Tequila in his hand.

"He's by the edge of the lake." You raised an eyebrow at him and snatched the alcohol out of his hands.

"Did you steal this from him?" You asked the boy in question, laughing as he raised his hands defensively, "Now you have a conversation starter. You're welcome."

With that you began walking towards the more secluded portion of the lake, eventually finding Warren.

"Hey. Mind if I join? I come with alcohol." You greeted him, holding up his bottle of Tequila with a hopeful smile.

"Isn't that my tequila?" The blond asked with a smug smirk, you only shrugged, taking a swig from the capless bottle and sitting down next to him.

"Isn't it technically Charles'? Yanno from his liquor cabinet?" You replied cheekily, taking another swig, the liquid burning your throat as Warren watched you, smirk broadening on his face.

"No comment." He answered, taking the bottle from you and taking a swig himself, you couldn't stop your eyes from watching the way his lips wrapped around the rim of the bottle or how his neck looked as he swallowed.

Shaking yourself out of it before he noticed, you directed your eyes at the lake.

"Can I ask you something?" You asked him, after a few more hits of tequila of course.

Warren raised an eyebrow at you and nodded, he was admittedly starting to get a little tipsy and he could tell that you were right there with him, half the bottle of Tequila gone.

"Do you like, God I don't know- not like me or something?" His eyes widened and he turned to face you fully and you did the same.

"Why do you think that?" He asked, trying his best to play it cool, taking another swig of tequila before offering you the bottle, which you gladly accepted.

You took a gulp before starting, "We never really talk outside of training. Figured you didn't like me all that much since I see you talking to pretty much everyone else." You explained to him with a shrug, passing the bottle back to him.

"Nah I like you plenty." He told you, smugness returning to his face as you mirrored his expression.

"Plenty, huh?" You teased raising your eyebrows and silently challenging him. You didn't expect him to bite but you couldn't back down as he moved his face closer to yours.

You wouldn't be so quick to thank tequila for your state in the morning, but for that moment, tequila was your new best friend.

"Yeah. Plenty." He repeated lowly, breath fanning against your face as his lips moved closer to your own.

His eyes flickered between your eyes and your lips before they eventually settled for staring only at your lips, his own bottom lip trapped between his teeth.

And with your tequila fueled confidence you licked your lips, knowing full well he couldn't take his eyes off them, and whispered a daring, "Prove it."

In speed that could rival Quicksilver's, Warren's lips were moving hungrily against yours and his hands were pulling you into his lap.

All you could taste on his lips was tequila and you could feel yourself becoming more intoxicated with each messy kiss he placed on your lips.

Hands tangling in his blonde curls, he let out a groan when you caught his bottom lip between your teeth gently before pulling away to look at him.

"Do you believe me now?" He asked, already inching his lips back to yours.

"Still could use some convincing." Oh and convince you he did.

#warren worthington iii #warren worthington x reader #x-men #x-men x reader #peter maximoff #peter parker x reader #ben hardy x reader

[lornashore]

Never Too Late

Summary: A Markus reader insert. He finds you in the middle of the night alone on a bridge. Unknown to him that he got to you just in time to save you.

A/N: I wrote this for suicide prevention month, and also to bring awareness to a situation like this that is all too real. If anyone out there who reads this is going through this, remember that you’re never alone and I hope this brings you some for of comfort.

TRIGGER WARNING: Bullying, language, attempted suicide, continue with caution!

A cold wind whipped through your hair as you made your way down a vacant bridge, the razor sharp bite of the flowing air dried out your sore, puffy eyes even more than they were before you arrived. The night sky above, normally filled with beautiful twinkling diamonds was now covered in a thick overcast. You turned towards the vast body of water below, closing your eyelids to listen to the steady flow.

You lowered your head, resting it on the icy rail as another pathetic whimper escaped your lips for the tenth time that day. The words of your boss as well as the laughter of your coworkers echoed in your ears once again, the scene playing out behind your closed lids.

Working for a stocking company wasn’t a career of choice, no matter how much they paid you. Especially not when mistakes were caused by clumsiness. The forklift lost control while your boss was trying to teach you how to work it, causing an entire shelving unit to topple to the cement floor. Within seconds the entire area was covered in shattered glass and liquids. One employee was caught in the mess, sending him to the hospital with his head busted open. You sat there frozen in place as your boss wasted no time in scolding you and promptly kicking you out. Of course, before you left, he made sure to introduce you to the android that would be taking your place. The perfect worker, needing no training, making no mistakes, causing no accidents or loss of money, and best of all, no pay. That’s when you realized he had long planned on replacing you, and was simply trying to find any reason to relieve you of further duties. You swiftly left the building, trying your best to ignore your coworkers whispers and laughter as you dashed through the door and out into the cold afternoon air. That was your first job after being in an institute for half a year, and you only managed to keep it for two weeks.

You went straight home after that, the heavy droplets of rain soaking straight through your clothes leaving you a shivering mess as you entered your quiet house. Going straight to bed, you slept for two days straight, being rudely awakened by your mother. 

She was standing over you, both of her hands rested on her hips as she glared holes into your form under the heavy blankets. When you snuck a peek at her, she immediately started to ask questions about what happened. 

“For god’s sake you’re twenty-three years old and you can’t even hold down a job? I told you I wanted you out of my house before your birthday this year, and that’s three weeks away. I knew moving here with you was a mistake.'' She scolded you. All you could do was lie there and listen as she poured insult after insult at your already bruised state of mind. 

“I want your lazy ass out of bed in ten minutes and I want you out there looking for another job. And if you’re lucky, someone may hire you again.” She demanded as she finally left your room. Though you knew with the production of androids, the chances of finding another job were slim.

Your mind continued to plummet back down the dark hole you worked so hard to climb back out of after that. Knowing you didn’t have your own mother's support anymore hurt your core and shattered your heart. Perhaps going back home where the main source of the problem lives wasn't the best idea. But it was too late now. 

With a shaky hand you reach into your jacket pocket, cold fingers coming into contact with the smooth surface of the photograph concealed inside. Slowly you brought the item out of your pocket and into your view, still leaning on the icy railing. A cold tear slipped down your face as you scanned the photo of your uncle Carl and his android Markus. A small smile made its way to your face for only a second before fresh tears soaked your red cheeks once again. Puffs of white air left your mouth as you sobbed, the picture held tightly in your trembling hands. They were all you had growing up. Carl's home was your safe haven away from the vicious outside world, and he welcomed you with open arms. Oftentimes you would stay with him for a few weeks, just spending time with him or helping Markus with his daily chores. Both were happy to have you around, and always included you in their activities. 

Markus had been your one golden ray of sunshine on a stormy day, the one thing that kept you hanging on. But as all rays of gold, they soon come to an end, covered over by the clouds, waiting for the next clear day. 

 Tearing your focus away from the image, you lifted the slieve of your jacket to reveal the flesh beneath. Delicate fingers traced over each and every scar, old and new, each with its own memory of pain. Your chest began to hurt as you sobbed uncontrollably, your fingers tangling in your hair, gripping and tugging at it until a stream of warm blood trickled down the side of your face. 

You closed your eyes and let the photo fall to the pavement beneath your feet as you gripped onto the freezing bridge in front of you, a loud scream escaped your lungs and rang through the otherwise quiet night. As your voice calmed again, you heard footsteps carefully approaching. 

“What are you doing out here?” A familiar voice asked from behind you. your heart slightly quickened from hearing his soothing voice again.

“I’m just going for a walk Markus.” you replied flatly, refusing to look at him. 

“This late at night, in the freezing cold? You should be at home sleeping at this hour.” He commented. 

“I’m fine. I just really needed to get out. You don’t need to start lecturing me.” You snapped, gritting your teeth in frustration, annoyed by this androids timing.

“But you really shouldn’t be here right now. Come with me, I'll walk you home. You’ll get sick if you stay out here for much longer.” His voice trembled slightly, the worry that was clear in his vocal processor surprising you a bit. You welcomed it for a moment, almost forgetting how it felt to have someone care for you.

“I don’t want to go home. Not with that wretch of a woman who still lives there.” You replied coldly. 

“You shouldn’t talk about your mother like that-”

“And she shouldn’t have betrayed me like everyone else. Like my father, my brothers, and even you.” You sneered, looking over your shoulder at him. He looked visibly hurt by your statement and the venom they carried. 

“I didn’t betray you, and never walked away from you. I wanted to visit you, but I couldn’t. Not with the danger that the rebellion put all of my people in.” He started, taking a small step towards you. That’s when you fully faced him, making him halt his steps.

His eyes scanned you, now that he could properly see you. The condition you were in worried him more than he thought it would, seeing how much weight you lost, the dark circles under your eyes and sickly pale skin. His thirium pump began to beat sporadically in his chest, feeling guilty for taking so long to return to you, to check in on his first friend. Only now he was finally noticing the toll it truly took on your body and mind. 

“Then why are you just now coming back to me? You say I’m your closest friend but it’s been almost a year since the uprising ended and you haven’t tried to contact me once. They ripped you away from me when I needed you most, and you knew that. I didn’t expect you to find the time for me while things were bad with your revolution and all, but once that calmed down…” You trailed off, the words being too painful to finish. 

“I tried to reach out to you but that would have put you in danger if anyone knew you were associated with me. The authorities would have surely brought you in for questioning about me and I didn’t want to put you or Carl through that. I was protecting you.” Markus explained, doing his best to remain calm.

“Bullshit.” You yelled, turning your back to him and grabbing hold of the rail. With the last bit of energy you had you hoisted yourself into a standing position on the bridge, balancing yourself on the slippery surface. Carefully you managed to turn yourself around, keeping your back to the rushing water below. The sudden look of alarm and worry on his perfect features caused more tears to pour down my cheeks.

“Woah woah what are you doing? Get down from there.” He said in a rush, taking long strides towards you.

“Don’t come near me Markus. You won’t change my mind.” You shout through your sobs. “I’m sorry, but this is the only choice I have now. I can’t keep living like this.” You said, your voice trailing off into a whisper. 

“Just because you feel this way now doesn’t mean you have to end yo-”

“Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t.” You cut him off. Your chest began to hurt with each sharp inhale you took of the cold night air.

“I know I haven’t been around much lately, but I'm here right now. Doesn’t that make a difference?” He started, seeming to hesitate, eyes scanning your trembling figure. 

“And you do have people who care about you. What about Carl? He asked your mother about you nearly every day after you admitted yourself to the institute.” You thought about his words for a moment, letting them sink in lifting your spirits, but was it truly enough?. 

“I know you’re upset with me, I can see that, but you need to believe me when I say I can do so much more for you now. You just need to trust me. I will help you.” Relief flooded him when you let him approach you without jumping like he had feared. He hesitated at first, unsure if any movement from this close distance would send you over the edge. But he soon decided that it didn’t matter, as long as he was able to pull you to safety, he would be satisfied with that for the time being. 

Slowly, he reached out, gently taking both of your wrists in his cold hands. His orbs met yours in a silent plea for you to listen to his words, to fully trust the android you considered to be your only friend. You searched him for any sign of deceit, but instead found concern, hope, and fear. 

He truly was afraid. Throughout his life, and when he led the revolution, he had seen the ugly side of humanity, and the violent judgement that humans thrust onto his people. Yet, he had also seen the good in people, the very few who were willing to help them in their time of need. Never once had he seen this side of people and the effects the androids truly had on them once they realized humans were being replaced. He understood of course, their anger towards androids, even if it wasn’t their fault. But never had he thought he’d see you in this state, all because he had been destroyed and was unable to see you in order to keep you safe and out of the violence that ensued. 

“Please, just come with me. I can take you someplace safe, and I will find you help. You don’t have to fight this alone.” He tightened his grip around your wrists, begging you to step down from the ledge. You watched him through half lidded eyes one rebel tear slipped past your lashes. Markus raised a hand, wiping it away with his thumb, giving you a small smile of encouragement. 

“Where will we go?” You asked, unsure if you were ready to be around other people or androids. 

“We’ll go to the place where my friends are staying. It’s not far from here. But you’ll be comfortable there and I can be with you more.” He said, voice fading to a whisper. 

Your shoulders slumped in exhaustion, and he took that moment to yank you down from the railing. He sighed in relief, holding you tightly in his arms as artificial tears stained his synthetic almond skin. 

“It’s not too late, I will help you. You have my word. I won’t leave you...not again.” He said over your audible sobs, but you heard him, and his words brought you a small sliver of hope that you hadn't felt in a long time. 

After what seemed like hours had passed, Markus helped you to your feet, leaning most of your weight against himself to support your exhausted body.

“Now, let’s get you out of this cold.” He said as he led you off the bridge and in the direction of the place he called home, hoping that you too, would find peace there just as he did.   

#suicide prevention month #suicide prevention #suicide awareness #detroit #become human #detroit become human #detroit markus #markus x reader #markus imagine #markus reader insert #detroit x reader #detroit imagine

[lordsister]

In Dreams (Theodorus Van Gogh x Reader)

A/N: Que gross sobbing noises. I really cried while writing this one, like damn! Thank you @kiarigirl for giving me this prompt! It was lots of fun to write. And thank you to @thetwinkims for beta reading! 

I do not own Ikemen Vampire or any of its characters.

My ko-fi: https://ko-fi.com/lordsister (please consider donating if you enjoy my works!)

Prompt: "I miss her so damn much, and it's killing me that she's gone!"

"Theo!"

His eyes shoot open at the sound of his name, at the sound of her voice, and his vision is filled with the sight of the woman he loves standing a few feet in front of him, a smile on her face as she looks at him over her shoulder. Gentle, golden sunshine gleams in her hair and the world around her is vibrant and beautiful, a painting meant for him alone. His heartbeat pounds in his ears and he has to swallow to find his voice. "(Y/n)..." he manages to choke, unable to move. His whole body feels numb, his feet stuck to the ground. 

She giggles, her happiness more lovely than any tinkling bell, and reaches out to him, offering her hand. Theodorus' feet come unglued from the ground and he rushes forward, grabbing her hand and pulling her into his arms. One arm wraps tight around her waist while the other hand cradles her head against his chest, holding her tight against him. She smells exactly as he remembers, of flowers and warm syrup, and it brings tears to his eyes. He won't let her go this time. He can't let her go this time.

He's dreamed this dream so many times, one would think he'd know better by now.

The concern in her eyes is unbearable as she looks up at him. "Theo? What's wrong?"

"Please, don't go, knabbeltje. Don't leave me again." The desperation in his voice reflects his heartbreak as the tears overflow, spilling down his cheeks. 

Her hand cups his cheek, wiping away his tears as he turns to kiss her palm. "What are you talking about? Why would I leave you?" The words stab at his heart because he knows exactly why.

"(Y/n), I-!" Before he's able to tell her what he always should have told her, she disappears from his arms, leaving him holding empty air. He doesn't understand how she managed to slip from his tight hold, and a familiar panic overwhelms him when massive double doors rise out of the ground in front of him. In vain, he moves to grab you before you can walk through those doors, but his feet are stuck again and all he can do is shout your name as the dark hallway beyond swallows you whole, your sad, tearful smile the last thing he sees. The doors shut with sickening finality, shattering the golden scenery around him and plunging him into darkness.

Theodorus wakes up panting and whimpering, little cries of her name and "no" escaping his mouth. His hands claw at the bedsheets, searching for someone who isn't there anymore. No matter how many times he dreams of her, he'll never get used to waking up without her. The pain is just as fresh as the day she left and went back to her own time, unwittingly taking his heart with her. He's shed so many tears since then, shouted and sobbed his anger into the dark, still nights, and yet the stabbing ache in his chest remains. 

In dreams is the only way Theodorus gets to see her now, gets to hold her and kiss her and love her as he always should have.

He spends his days sitting by his bedroom window or wandering aimlessly in the city, thinking of what he could've done differently and wishing you were still beside him. Barely speaking to anyone now, his mood is worse than ever, lashing out at the other residents for the smallest, most insignificant things. Most evenings, such as this one, he doesn't even come down for dinner, just sits in his room and watches the sunset, remembering how much you loved it and how he called you silly for it.

A soft knock at the door doesn't draw any reaction from him. He knows who stands just outside of it and he doesn't care. "Theo, I brought you some pancakes," his older brother's muffled voice calls. The door opens, but Theodorus still doesn't move from his place at the window. He can feel Vincent's soft blue gaze, can feel the sadness and concern in that look, but no amount of good intentions and sympathy can soothe the irrevocably broken parts of himself. "If you're not going to eat something, you at least need to drink some rouge. You've lost too much weight."

"Mmm," is the only response he gets and Vincent sighs and moves closer, daring to put a hand on his brother's shoulder.

"Theo..." he begins, and empty, dark blue eyes slide to peer at him. "I'm worried about you. Everyone's worried about you." Vincent is fully prepared for the backlash as he continues, "(Y/n) wouldn't want you to do this to yourself."

Theodorus's eyes spark and his ever-present scowl deepens as he shakes his brother's hand off. "Don't talk to me about her."

"She loved you, Theo. You know that." His brother's voice takes on a stern edge, daring him to say otherwise.

Those words hurt him more than his brother could ever know. 

Rising from his seat with a growl, Theodorus stalks over to the bottle of rouge Vincent set with the pancakes on his nightstand. He ignores the pancakes; food has lost its pleasure to him, but he grabs the bottle of red liquid, not even bothering with a cup as he uncorks it and knocks back a few mouthfuls. Wiping his mouth, he sits heavily on his bed, dropping the bottle and holding his head in his hands. "Damn her for making me feel this way. Damn her for leaving me." He sighs harshly, bitterly. "No. That's not right."

Vincent sits next to him, quietly offering the support of an older brother. "Tell me, Theo."

A sob wracks his form, unbidden. "It's my fault, Vince. She left because...because I never told her how much I love her!" The tears come hard and fast, streaming down his face and dripping off his chin as more sobs leave him shaking. "I never told her how much she meant to me even though...even though she never hesitated to tell me she loved me. When she first told me...it was the happiest day of my life, but now it hurts so bad because I couldn't say those words back to her."

"Theo-"

He turns on his brother, grasping him by the collar of his shirt and staring at him with wide, heartbroken eyes. "I miss her so damn much, and it's killing me that she's gone!" Leaning his head into Vincent's shoulder, he cries brokenly. "I-I couldn't even convey how much I loved her with my actions!"

All Vincent can do is hold his brother as every bit of his anguish comes pouring out, tears of his own welling in his eyes as he prays for an end to this tragic couple's misery.

Hours pass. Vincent, refusing to leave him like this, curls up to sleep in a chair, while Theodorus lies awake on the bed, staring up at the shadowed ceiling of his room with dry, irritated eyes. Every now and then, a stray tear follows the tracks left on his cheeks by all those that came before it.

"I love you, (y/n). Come back to me..." he says to the still air, but it's too late now and there's no one there to hear it. Only your love can heal him and he can only find that in dreams.

#ikemen vampire #ikemen vampire fanfiction #ikemen vampire x reader #ikemen series #ikemen #cybird #ikevamp #ikevamp theodorus #ikemen x reader #theodorus van gogh #theodorus van gogh x reader #theodorus x reader #angst #romance #x reader #x reader fanfiction #ikemen vampire theodorus

[ikesenhell]

One of Them

You can find all other IkeSen works of mine here. NOTES: Thank you so much to @mikablazen for this commission! She wanted a Fae Masamune.... with a very dark twist. Be warned. 

She walked into the woods with a thousand whispers at her back.

None of the stories she’d heard deterred her. On the edge of their quiet suburb, deep in the woods untouched, on the lip of a stream, there was a clearing, some said. If you went in there and asked for a favor, something--someone?--would grant it. No one had done it, of course. Still the rumor persisted.

And, well, she wanted such a small thing.

She tugged on the straps of the backpack she’d slung over her shoulders and headed down the sandy path. The sun was setting. Tangled limbs and whispering, fresh leaves knotted together overhead and transformed the golden light into soft grey. No birds sang here. Twigs snapped underfoot. Gradually, the ground dissolved into roots and shredded leaves, only the barest outline of a trail by those who’d tried before her. The stream came and went, snaking in and out of the trunks and around unseen bends.

Just as the last little hint of light was fading and she contemplated turning back--that maybe there wasn’t a clearing after all--she found it.

Before her, a tree bowed like a gateway over the slope down. Someone had hung a small blue pendant over it, a ward against the evil eye. She wondered about it for only a moment before brushing it aside and treading carefully down the makeshift path of roots. There it was. A lattice of roots covered the bare, sandy floor. A ring of moss decorated the farthest side. Faint traces of dimming sunset spilled into the center; orange and yellow and purple all twisted together. Somewhere overhead, a raven called.

“Okay,” she muttered to herself, and slung down her backpack. “Here goes nothing.”

She set out a small offering. None of the stories had been really clear on what to bring, so she’d guessed. Firstly, she set down a small ziploc bag of oreos. Next, she offered a cookbook that her grandmother had written, the pages smooth and soft from wear. Lastly--out of a canteen she’d marked ‘NOT WATER’--she poured a cup full of elderflower vodka.

“Alright.” Clapping her hands clean, she stepped back from the moss. “These are for you. Um. I’d really like to make a wish--”

The first firefly came from nowhere, interrupting her thoughts. Then came the second, and the third, and even more spilling out of the moss ring. She backed away in shock. They wove and dipped and danced among themselves in the fading, shimmering light, their tails flashing faster and faster until they glowed blinding gold. And then--

Out of the blinding light stepped a man.

At least, he looked like a man. Tousled, dark hair and high cheekbones greeted her. One eye, bluer than she’d ever seen, so blue it almost glowed, swept over her, the other wreathed in a scar and shut. His ears were ringed with gold serpents (or were they dragons?), the royal blue robes he wore settling heavily in the circle. No horns or antlers adorned him. He rubbed a thoughtful hand along his sharp jaw and smiled.

It sent shivers rolling up her arms.

“For me?” He asked, his rich voice sultry and expansive. She wondered if he could sing. “Bring them closer.”

Her mind went blank. “Huh?”

“The gifts, Lass. I can’t reach them.”

Right! She scrambled to action. Wasn’t there something in the stories about how they couldn’t leave the ring? For a split second, cradling the packages in her hands, she hesitated. Was it even safe to hand them over? Couldn’t they take you to their realm if you put your hand inside the circle?

“Don’t worry,” he soothed, as if reading her mind. “I just want the gifts. You can even put them down on the ground. I won’t touch you.”

Oh, if she could bottle that voice and drink it down, she would. Enchanted, she set the items at his feet and scurried back. He knelt and scooped them up.

“What’s your name?” The man--creature--presence asked, picking slowly through the bag of oreos.

She just shook her head. She knew better than that. “What’s yours?”

If this bothered him, it didn't show. He laughed and pulled out a cookie, popping it in his mouth and chewing thoughtfully. “Masamune. These are good.”

“You’re welcome.”

He paused and eyed her, a broad grin spreading over his lips. “I take it you didn't bring these just to be kind.”

A beat. She squirmed uncomfortably under his gaze. “No. Not exactly.”

Masamune nodded, tucking away the cookies and cookbook in his robe. The liquor he set on the ground and pushed back to her, shaking his head. “And what makes a woman like you come out here to visit a guy like me?”

“I…” She faltered, summoning up her courage. “I wanted to make a wish.”

“Which is?”

It sounded so pathetic out loud. She lowered her eyes and took a deep breath. “I--I want to feel beautiful.”

Silence fell between them. Uncomfortable in the quiet, she pressed onward. “All of my friends tell me that I’m pretty, but that’s just them. They have to. They’re my friends. In the meantime, I’ve never really felt pretty. I know I’m not bad looking, but…” She gulped down some air. “I don’t know, that’s just what I want.”

Masamune stared at her, his fingers steepled. Would he say no? That thought sat uncomfortably in her.

“I tell you what,” he purred at last, stepping dangerously close to the edge of the moss. That a strip of green was all that protected her hummed in the back of her mind. “I can do this for you. In fact, I’ll do it for what you offered me here. Consider it a favor.”

Her pulse pounded loud in her ears. “Really?”

“Really.” His smile curled around her heart and squeezed. Why did he have to be so hot? “I think you deserve a little something like that, Lass.”

“That’s all we do? We just… we just trade?”

For the faintest of seconds, something flickered in his eye--something feral and hungry, untamed and ravenous. But then it was gone. She weaved on the spot, convincing herself it hadn’t existed in the first place.

“Terms and conditions apply,” was all he said, and then he vanished into the night air, leaving only the discarded liquor behind.

---

For a week, nothing could touch her.

She looked in the mirror and she saw herself--beautiful, radiant, in control. She walked down the street with her head held high. She noticed all the people turn to stare, to soak her in. For once in her life, she was confident.

But in time, the compliments lost their luster. She fussed and picked over herself in the mirror, trying to outdo herself each day. It was no longer enough to feel it. And so her thoughts turned back to that clearing in the woods, back to that moss ring, back to Masamune and his blue eye…

Within a month, she walked down the path again, her backpack heavy. He’d rejected the liquor. No more of that. Instead, she presented a series of blue candles and a sword letter opener on the moss, stepping back just as the first fireflies swarmed. And God! He was as radiant as she remembered. Her heart skipped a beat as that smile pooled over his full mouth.

“You’re back,” he remarked.

“I am,” she answered, smiling back at him as his eye roved appreciatively over her. How was it that he still affected her like this?

“Looking good, Kitten,” he purred. “Very good. Confidence suits you.”

She brushed back a lock of hair. “Thank you.”

And there it was again--a flicker of something primal and predatory in the curve of his mouth. A warning light illuminated in her mind: There’s a rule here, one you’ve forgotten. She ignored it and pressed forward. “I brought you more to trade.”

“Did you, now?”

“I did.”

Masamune gestured. She poked them over the edge of the ring; he inspected them, the sword most approvingly. “What is it this time? I thought all your needs were satisfied when last we met.”

The way he drawled satisfied sent shivers radiating over her spine. “I was. You gave me what I wanted. I just want to amend it slightly now.”

He quirked his lip, a faint rumble of laughter echoing in his throat. “Do tell.”

“I want to feel wanted.”

A pause. He hummed and turned his head, running a finger so delicately down the length of the letter opener that she wondered what it would feel like on her. What a thought that was! She struggled to banish it to the recesses of her mind.

“Very well,” he drawled. “But this isn’t enough. I did tell you I was doing you a favor last time.”

“Oh.” She hesitated. “Then what are your terms?”

Tucking away the letter opener, Masamune stepped closer to the edge of the ring. Sparks snapped where he touched it, but if it hurt him, he gave no sign. And, God, he was so close now, so close she could see all the shimmering depths of blue in his eye.

“Why, Kitten,” he purred. “A kiss. The sweetest one you can give me.”

“I--” Hot, liquid desire and good sense battled in her head. How was this possible? He wanted that from her? Was it safe? Was it reasonable? She chanced one look at his full lips and wondered how they tasted. God, it had to be good. It looked good. “Is--I’d have to come over the ring, wouldn’t I?”

Masamune chuckled, his eyelashes fluttering hungrily. “That you would.”

A chorus in her mind screamed danger, danger, danger. But--as much as she denied herself--how could she say she wasn’t curious?

“You promise not to try anything?” She asked, and hated how weak in the knees his growing smile left her.

“Cross my heart and hope to die.”

Her first step was tiny. He backed up in the ring to allow her space. Her second step was a single toe over the line, her searching gaze waiting for any sign that she should run. He merely held out his hand to her, and--emboldened with desire--she took it, crossing that boundary in one fell swoop. Masamune’s warm skin smelled like summer rain and sunshine, his dizzying eye drawing her in.

“Now.” He directed her chin with the tip of a finger, drawing her close. “For my prize.”

How could it possibly be his prize? How could it, when she was drunk on him the moment his lips met hers? He kissed like the second half of her soul, like a field illuminated with summer moonlight, like the soft roll of an ocean wave over her feet. Without thinking, she clutched at his arms and surrendered herself to him. The wish didn't matter. The woods didn't matter. All that mattered was him.

And then--as soon as he’d pulled her in--he released her once more.

“What a good Kitten,” he purred, licking his lips. She almost gasped with need. “That’ll do.”

Struggling speechlessly, she finally managed a simple, “Will it?”

“Oh, yes,” Masamune chuckled. “Don’t forget: terms and conditions apply.”

And then he was gone.

---

Oh, she was wanted. Where before her life was long stretches of silence, now her friends and family and new would-be suitors constantly let her know of their attentions. It was impossible to miss how much they needed her. Her calendar was as booked as she liked it.

And yet--she wasn’t happy.

All she could think of was the kiss. Every night when she slept, the smell of Masamune’s skin surrounded her. She could hear the hum of the fireflies thrumming in her veins, the way his lips parted against hers, the way she’d tasted eternity against him. Hell. It was all she could think about. Food was tasteless. Company was lacking. Even her hobbies held no joy for her now. It was all him, all and only him.

Some nights she lay awake, dreaming up an excuse to go see him. Surely just ‘dropping in’ wasn’t acceptable in these arrangements. But she had no more wishes--at least, none that didn't involve him kissing her again, and again, and a thousand times more--

Obsession, her mind whispered. It was right. She tried to shake herself back to sense. It simply wasn’t healthy to think about a man this much. She never had before. But over and over again, she came back to that moment in her mind, willing it on longer, harder, stretching on until she was breathless and they were tangled together--

Before the week was out, she abandoned her plans for the week and marched down the sandy path to the ring. He was there before she even reached the end.

“Well, well.” Masamune’s devil-may-care smile lit a shameless need in her. “You’re back.”

“You’re here,” she remarked, almost too relieved for surprise. “Did you hear me coming?”

He tilted his head and appraised her through that blue eye, steepling his fingers together. “Maybe.”

That wasn’t good enough for her. She strode to the edge of the circle--stopping herself just short with the last of her willpower--and blurted out, “I want to kiss you again.”

His smile didn't shift. “Is that your wish?”

It hadn’t occurred to her that this was a transaction. Her confidence withered only a moment. “Yes. It is my wish.”

“What do I get in exchange?”

“It--that’s the exchange.” She rubbed her chilly arms. The woods were suddenly much colder and darker than she’d remembered. Why was that? “I just--I want to kiss you again.”

His smile was gone. Instead he swept the length of robe around himself and tread carefully close to the edge, his fingertips walking up the invisible wall between them. A caged tiger, her mind whispered. She shoved it down.

“You would have to come to me.”

She swallowed. “I know.”

“That’s the deal.” He spread his arms wide and stepped back: an invitation. “You step over the circle. Terms and conditions apply.”

Why did he always say that? She meant to ask--but then she glanced at his lips and remembered how delicious he felt against her. Hell. All the same invasive, overwhelming urges surged through her, drowning out the chorus of screaming sense.

He let me do it last time.

So she leaped over the edge of it and into his arms. Their lips connected. And for a moment, her heart was at peace--all the swirling, chaotic thoughts that possessed her calmed as they tangled up together. Just like she’d wanted--

And then her hands went cold. She wrenched herself back. Too late. He kept a solid grip on her wrists, that same predatory smile on his lips. The urge to scream bubbled in her throat. Nothing emerged. Instead, she collapsed to her knees before him as the swarm of fireflies burst around him.

“Delicious,” he commented lightly, running a hand over her hair. “You’re a pretty addition to my collection.”

It took all of her strength to stammer back, “C-c-collection?”

“Of course.” Masamune smiled, finally releasing her. “You didn't think you were the only girl that wished for this, did you? Terms and conditions apply, Kitten.”

She didn't have time to shriek. It didn't even hurt when her body dissolved, transforming into just another one of his fireflies.

#Ikesen #Ikemen Sengoku #Ikesen Fae Au #Masamune Date #Ikesen Masamune #Commission #body horror tw #angst #bad ending

[tarotdeckshuffle]

Witch and familiar au what if one of the guys from ff xv was cursed as a furry animal and mc, the local witch, finds them and takes care of them and poof they wake up with a half whatever animal/human in their bed and the other is just all "yeah so this awkward but I gotta a good explanation." Im leaning heavily on it being Prompto with some form of dog ears.

I’m glad I can finally get to this request, @roshytsunami! I was originally going to do HCs about a lot of characters in this situation, but now I think I’ll do a short fic.

I think your idea about half fish Noctis (wait, that’s a merman, right?) is awesome! I also really want to see faun Gladio (goat legs and maybe horns?) and maybe a half cat Ignis…rotfl idk. OHH! What about a half falcon Ravus, so he can have wings?!?! Or a wolfy Nyx?! Ok, I’m getting ahead of myself. I don’t have time to write all of these right now >.

If any of these ideas sound good to you, please request them! I get to requests before originals and use them to gauge what ideas people think sound interesting.

Btw, Roshy is a mod for an upcoming Prompto centered zine that you can check out here!

Prompto just works too well with SnapChat…

Taglist: @idiotflowerex, @laststory1013, @sayaoqueen, @jophinabean, @mysme-already

If you like what you read, please consider supporting me on Patreon or buying me a Ko-fi!

Love Spell

Eye of newt,Tongue of dove,A blue flame’s soot,NOW SHOW MY LOVE!

Over your table top cauldron you chanted, throwing each ingredient in. The small container bubbled with a pinkish liquid until you chanted the last line, in which it overflowed into yellow steam over the sides. It was the color of a sunflower explosion.

Fitting, considering who you were looking for.

You must be truly desperate to be trying your own spell to find him, you thought to yourself. The room around you stayed quiet as the yellow steam dissipated.

Life wasn’t easy for your friendly neighborhood modern witch. The tarot cards were moody and only liked to read misfortune while your modern cauldron was the size of a two cup measuring cup. Who could afford a giant cast iron pot these days? You made up most of your own spells because the ingredients for the ones you found in old books or online all called for expensive items that couldn’t be found in your city. You were a witch that flew by the seat of your pants, not a broom.

Without warning, the smell of the potion exploded into the room. It was an unpleasant combination like cheap cologne and a seeding mint plant. The odor overwhelmed your small flat and your ran to the kitchen window, throwing it open to gasp at the fresh air.

As your lungs took their fill, you lingered in the warm windowsill. The sun glowed on your skin, heating your body after the cold of your flat. Your fingers played in the soft soil of your flower box, dancing between your herb plants.

Your eyes stared off into the sunny day, willing you to wander down the busy streets below in search of him. You dreamed of him as your gaze settled on your neighbors yellow and orange marigolds. They reminded you of his hair and cheerful smile.

The man you loved had been gone for three days now. He had gone out to get you coffee and never returned. You missed your love and were worried sick about him.

Sure, you had only been dating for a few weeks now, but you knew you loved him the moment you met him. It was the type of situation where the word just fit. He was your sunshine: the light of your life and the warmth to your days. But you had been too scared to tell him that. Now, you were worried you’d never get the chance to.

It had been three sleepless nights, thousands of missed calls, and hundreds of hours out looking for him. But he was still gone without a trace.

You were woken from your daydream by a sound at the door: scratching. Oh by the six, had you summoned something with your made up ramblings?

You spun from the window, grabbing the first item that could be used as a weapon, which happened to be a large wooden spoon. You held your new sword before you, ready for whatever was going to tear your door down. Your breathing came in gasps and your hands shook as you listened to the soft scratching.

Every sound made you flinch. You felt certain that the front door would come flying towards you at any moment. Your heart beat thrummed in your ears.

Silence.

“HERE IT COMES here IT comes here it COMES here itcomeshereitcomes” the words tumbled through your mind faster than you could comprehend them.

But nothing happened.

The door stayed perfectly still. When a soft whimpering was heard from the other side.

It sounded like a puppy.

You willed your frozen feet to move, to help you find out what was outside that door. Your initial instinct was to believe it a daemon’s trick, something to lure you outside, but curiosity got the best of you.

One hand on the doorknob, the other holding your spoon up to strike, you whispered, “Please don’t kill me,” before you threw the front door open.

Staring ahead, you half expected to see some giant, red and black glowing beast, ready to tear you apart. Instead, there was nothing.

You looked down towards movement on the floor to see a golden colored puppy sitting at your feet.

The two of you stared at each other in confusion, before it barked at you with its shrill but adorable voice.

Your head snapped to the upheld spoon. “Sorry!” You apologized while lowering it. The puppy rose to all four feet, trying to measure up to you.

You picked up the small baby, holding it before you to examine it. “So…boy,” you confirmed. “Tell me, are you some great daemon in disguise that I summoned to bring about my own bloodied doom?” You looked the bundle of fluff in the eyes. He just whimpered and waged his tail at you.

“AWWWW! You’re too cute to be here to hurt me! Aren’t you little guy!” At the will of this squirming puppy, you became a baby talking, giddy, melty mess. If it was going to kill you, at least you’d die happy from seeing something so adorable. You carried the little pup inside, cradled in your arms.

The rest of your day was spent drenched in sunlight, warm away from your sorrow. You now had someone to care for.

You made some homemade food for your new friend and stitched up some makeshift toys. You would sprawl out on your living room rug and play with him. As the sun was setting, painting the bricks of your flat in orange, you realized he still didn’t have a name. You smiled, watching the puppy yawn, content to put the task off until tomorrow.

You cuddled into your bed, soft and safe from the world outside. Your new friend whimpered on the floor, until you relented, picking him up to cuddle into your blankets with you. He curled up in your arms and was soon snoring under your adoring gaze.

It felt like mere moments later when you awoke. Everything was so warm; from the morning sun streaming in, to your blankets, even the breath on your skin.

WAIT!

Breath on your skin?!

You looked down frantically. Were a soft puppy had once laid, now a blond haired handsome man lay, curled up against your chest.

Your cheeks burned red as you scuttled backwards. Your bed mate moaned in his sleep.

“PROMPTO!?!” You cried! Was he really here? Now? Was this a dream?

“Errmm, [Y/N]?” He blinked sleep filled eyes, trying to focus on you. “[Y/N]!!!!” He realized suddenly who you were, tackling you onto the other side of the bed.

He was so excited to see you! You had to close your eyes to the onslaught of kisses…very wet kisses.

“Prom! Where have you…what have you…” He pulled away from you, his sky blue eyes staring into yours. You couldn’t help but notice small, fluffy ears sticking out of his golden hair as his tongue lolled out his open mouth. “What happened?!”

“I missed you so much, [Y/N]! I swear I can explain everything!” He dove into a rambling story, a tail swishing in your sheets to his cadence.

Ears, tongue, a tail…had your puppy friend been Prompto?!

“Prom, Prompto, sunshine…PROM! Stop!” Finally you got him to quiet. “I don’t think it’s all worn off…” You picked up your phone to show him what he looked like in the camera. He stared obliviously happy at you as you took his picture.

You turned your phone around. It took him a moment to recognize his own reflection. When he did, he snatched the device from your hands.

“THAT’S ME?!” He cried as though it was your fault.

You just nodded, still in shock at the puppy boy in front of you. A blush bloomed again. You had slept with the puppy, you had rolled around on the floor with the puppy, you had seen the puppy’s…

He started to panic, still staring at your phone.

“You were that puppy!” The realization left your lips.

“YEAH! AND NOW I’M ME BUT I’M STILL PUPPY AND…” Prompto had at least triple your anxiety.

You took a moment to breath. Everything was crazy, but he was here now. That’s what mattered.

“Prom, what happened?” You hoped your forcibly calm voice would help him.

“There was this person and I bumped into them and they knew my name and then I saw them here and…”

He was going to give himself a panic attack at this rate! So, you stopped him in the best way you knew how.

You pressed your lips to his. You had missed these soft lips. You felt the tension in your body release as you tasted his wet lips, letting your souls click into place.

Gently, slowly, you pulled away. “What was that for?” Your sunshine asked breathlessly.

“True love’s kiss and all that jazz,” you replied softly, half hoping it had worked.

“Oh…better try again, then.” And in an instant, your lips were reunited.

You could feel the heat in your cheeks rise. You had never purposefully been in a bed with Prompto,  much less like this before!

As heat was starting to build, he suddenly pulled away, his eyes wide. He jumped out of the bed and made for the bathroom.

“Prom? Honey, what’s wrong?” You called, concerned by his sudden departure.

���Gotta go!” He called, slamming the door.

You smiled at the strange scene.

“IT’S REALLY HARD TO GO WHEN YOU KEEP TRYING TO RAISE YOUR LEG!” He yelled from the other side of the door. Yeah, your Prompto was back.

The rest of the morning was filled with a slow breakfast and as much time in each other’s arms as you could have. Prompto kept trying to lick you instead of kiss you and he accidently did whine a few times.

Eventually, you pieced together his story. It sounded like a rival witch had been trying to cast this spell on you, when Prompto walked out of your apartment and right into it! You laughed with him but vowed to get revenge on whoever did this.

With a little bit of research and luck, you discovered that Prompto’s transformation would go away with time and “warm love”. He would need to constantly be around someone he loved, to take care of them and be cared for, until all the symptoms went away, or else he would transform back into a puppy!

“You poor thing! The shock of the transformation must have scared you so bad that you ran away!” You pet his head, trying to comfort him through understanding.

Prompto laughed nervously.

“What’s wrong, babe?”

“I guess…this means the cat’s out of the bag…heh or the dog.” He did a weak finger guns to you.

“What?”

“The ‘L’ word stuff! LOVE! Now you know…” He looked down sadly. “And I never got to surprise you or make it super romantic or something…”

You smiled, pulling him in close for a tight hug. “Yeah, but I don’t need that, because I have you.” You pulled away to hold is face in your hands. “Prompto, I love you and I never want to lose you again.”

His eyes sparked. “I love you, too, [Y/N]. Don’t worry. I’m not going anywhere.”

You held each other tight, wrapped in the strongest magic the world had ever known: Love.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I was a pretty cute puppy, wasn’t I?”

“Yes, you still are!”“I am not!” “You can still be very dog-like at times.”

“Well, you don’t need a leash to keep me around.” ;)

“What if I want one?”

“What?”

“What?”

#ffxv #prompto x reader #prompto #prompto argentum #fanfiction #witch #witch au #transformation #puppy #final fantasy #final fantasy xv #fluff

[diinofayce]

Siren’s Kiss

This is for @angryschnauzer and @feelmyroarrrr Lust Actually Smutty Writing Challenge. I chose the Musician AU prompt. Around the same time I signed up for this challenge I got a reader request from @jen-j123 asking for a smutty Thor imagine so...two birds, one stone?

Pairing: Thor Odinson x Musician!Reader | Word Count: 3.7k | Warnings: 18+ ONLY, SMUT ABOUND! Language, biting, fingering, oral (M&F), unprotected sex | A/N: So I know the song I chose is 100% death metal but I imagine the whole song sung by the woman in the song for this fic. I hope you can imagine that and it doesn’t ruin the vibe for you. | Song: Nymphetamine - Cradle of Filth

Thor entered the little New York bar with the rest of the team. He felt guilty for gravitating much more to his brother, Bruce, and Steve (and subsequently Bucky) than the others, but he always felt a stronger sense of camaraderie with them than the rest of the team. He had to leave Rabbit and Tree behind, as they still received strange looks when out on the New York streets and nine times out of ten weren’t allowed in the business establishments.

Loki had made a passing comment to Tony about Jane and Thor’s breakup and within the hour Tony had rallied the troops to take Thor out on the town. Despite Thor’s protests of it being mutual and really not needing the attention, he couldn’t argue with a night of revelry. Tony had managed to find a bar that was very much to Thor’s tastes, it was called Valhalla and it was modeled after the tales of old, when the Nords would sing of getting to walk through the gates of Valhalla after an honorable death or a well won battle in a woman’s bed. It looked like a stereotypical, seedy New York bar on the outside, but the inside was all fine oak and walnut bars and long tables instead of small individual ones. It had a long fire pit in the middle where spitted meat and apples and vegetables were being roasted and ale in silver tankards were being passed around by barmaids. It was very much like suddenly stepping into Asgard proper and it caused both Thor and Loki to pause in surprise.

“I told you New York would have a place for you, didn’t I?” Tony commented, elbowing Thor in the ribs and strutting passed the God to claim a long table towards a small bard stand. A lute, a tambourine, and a small wooden drum all leaned against the back wall on a risen platform, so far no entertainer was out performing, but the night was still young.

Thor and the rest of the Avengers followed Tony and Thor sat down between Loki and Steve, Bruce on Loki’s left and Bucky on Steve’s right. They sat across from Tony, Natasha and Sam. The other’s went off to go explore the bar that seemed much bigger inside than it had looked from the outside.

“Brother, I detect a fair bit of magick,” Loki whispered from behind his hand and Thor hummed vaguely in acknowledgment. Thor was not one adept in the usage of magick like his adoptive brother, but even he could feel its tingle along his flesh.

“Is it a trap?” Thor asked softly, noticing both Steve and Bucky turning their heads sharply to look at the two of them. He sometimes forgets about their enhanced hearing, forgetting they are not like mere Midguardians.

“It does not feel malicious. But it feels hungry,” Loki responded, picking up the silver jug in front of him and pouring a deep, blood red wine in to the goblet in front of him and inspecting it curiously before taking a sip. “Apothic. Nine dollars at any convenience store,” Loki commented, his nose wrinkling.

Thor gave a booming laugh and clapped his brother on the shoulder, “Well, we can rest easy about them trying to poison us.”

“It might as well be,” Loki retorted, waving his hand above the goblet replacing the cheap American wine with something fit for an Asgardian prince. He hummed in contented pleasure when he took another sip from his goblet. Thor shook his head at his brother’s antics and reached for a tankard of ale that was set down on the table by one of the wenches. He pulled a flask from his inner jacket pocket and tipped some clear liquid into his ale before passing it to the Captain on his right who mimicked Thor before passing it down to the Sergeant.

Thor observed the redhead across from him follow the flask with her emerald eyes. “I’ve always been curious…” she started with a soft lilt in her voice. The corner’s of Thor’s mouth quirked up as he took the flask back and tucked it back into its spot.

“Unfortunately, my darling Black Widow, it would burn you from the inside out.”

She frowned softly and rolled her eyes, no doubt not believing him and thinking he was underestimating her. He ordered a few shots of whiskey for the table for the others hoping that would soften their scorn. The table chatted and laughed, getting rowdier and rowdier as the drinks continued to flow freely. It wasn’t until Thor almost choked on his ale when his brother elbowed him in the ribs that he tore himself away from the group to follow his brother’s rapt attention to the little stage.

As a woman in a flowing golden gossamer gown glided into the stage, her hair hanging softly in braids down her back, and her skin brushed with golden powder it became apparent where the magick that had been softly thrumming throughout the establishment was coming from. She swiftly bent to pick up the lute into her arms, her movements as fluid as water and the soft smile on her lips as she looked out in the crowd was like warm sunshine. As her long fingers plucked the first few strings on her lute the hall started to fall silent, already mesmerized by the goddess in front of them. It was when she opened her mouth to sing and the sound of her voice came out sounding sweeter than the most beautiful song birds that Loki and Thor cast each other a nervous glance.

“Lead to the river Midsummer I wave A ‘V’ of black swans on with hope to the grave All through Red September With skies fire paved I begged you appear like a thorn for the Holy Ones”

Loki licked his lips and sent his emerald gaze down the table at their companions. All of them were froze, some with drinks half way to their lips, in a blissful stupor. Thor gulped down a large mouthful of ale nervously and drummed his fingers heavily on the table top. The woman sensed that Loki and Thor were unaffected by her and her gaze shifted to them. The power she held seemed to increase and enveloped them like being swaddled in a warm blanket.

“Cold was my soul Untold was the pain I faced when you left me a rose in the rain So I swore to the razor That never enchained Would your dark nails of faith be pushed in my veins again”

Thor frowned at the woman who smirked coyly back.

You had not expected the King of Asgard and his brother to be in the little hall you had managed to create over the last few decades of being in hiding. Many centuries ago King Odin declared that all you and all of your sisters were ‘dangerous creatures’ and demanded your kind be rounded up and locked away. You had managed to escape, but not a day went by that you didn’t think of your sisters locked away in the catacombs of Asgard, without a way to feed or bask in the sunlight or feel the embrace of a lover. You fought yourself to keep your emotions in check, even as they rolled like electric current across your skin. You watched the new king, son of old, lick his lips in hunger as he gazed upon you and you wondered if he could taste the lightning in your veins.

“Veiled on your tomb I am a prayer for your loneliness And would you ever soon come above unto me For once upon a time From the binds of your lowliness I could always find the right slot for your sacred key”

The tune, dark and sensual, enticed Thor in ways he was long unfamiliar with. As the God of Fertility he was not a stranger to bedding a woman or a even a man, but you. He had only heard stories of you and your sisters, Odin having locked them away when Thor was just a boy. You let the song trail off and you smiled sweetly with a strong undertone of seduction out to the crowd, your eyes eventually falling on Thor and locking onto the crystalline blue orbs. Sucking your plump bottom lip between your teeth you turned on your heels, your long braids and gossamer gown flaring out around you as you walked off towards the back.

Loki hit his brother’s forearm a few times to shake Thor out of his stupor. “You need to go after her,” he rasped, his throat dry from sitting there with his mouth open in shock.

Thor nodded dumbly and stood clumsily, knocking over a few tankards of ale. The others were slower to shake out of their trance, it was if their brains had been filled with cotton and syrup.

“What just happened?” Bucky whispered, his voice small and slightly panicked. Thor thumped his large hand on the man’s shoulder as he passed, he knew how the soldier felt about having his head messed with.

“I will take care of it,” Thor assured and squared his shoulders as he pushed his way through the crowd that had started approaching to put money in the tip jar on the stage.

Thor raised an eyebrow at how the staff stepped out of his way. He had expected them to stop him. He was about to be bold enough to ask where to find the bardic maiden when he heard your voice whisper along his neck and around his ears. He could feel it along his skin, as delicate as the lingering touch of a lover.

“Wracked with your charm I am circled like prey Back in the forests Where whispers persuade More sugar trails More white ladies laid Than pillars of salt Keeping Sodom at night at bay”

Thor followed the beckoning fingers of your voice, it led him to a staircase which he climbed to find a landing with a single door. Opening it slowly he entered a living space, a table with two chairs sat next to a bookshelf, there was actually a rather nice television in there - the first modern thing Thor had seen since walking into the ale house - but what he focused on was you sprawled across a king sized bed. You looked like a goddess, swathed in the golden gossamer of your dress, the furs of the bed and the bountiful amount of pillows.

You swung your legs off the bed and stood slowly, that was when Thor noticed that you had stripped of the solid dress you had been wearing under the see through gossamer. He felt a burning in his stomach and his breath hitched as he took in the heavy hang of your breasts, your nipples pert and hard in anticipation. Thor admired your body all the way down to your swaying hips and long legs as you walked towards him, singing a song that you hadn’t finished so that you could save it for him personally.

“Fold to my arms Hold their mesmeric sway And dance out to the moon As we did in those golden days Christening stars I remember the way We were needle and spoon Mislaid in the burning hay”

Thor looked at you dreamily as your ran your hands up his chest, your fingers easily undoing the buttons on his shirt as they moved. Your mouth followed your hands, your lips barely grazing his flesh but your tongue flicked out to catch a rivulet of sweat that ran from his collarbone. You felt him shiver under your touch, his large hands coming to settle on your hips, his fingers kneading the flesh below them as your ran the tip of your tongue up the line of his neck and jaw to suck his earlobe between your teeth.

“Do you know what I am, my King?” you whisper huskily in his ear, your teeth grazing his shell and your voice dripping syrupy sweet honey.

“I do,” he replied thickly, pulling you flush against him, his arousal straining against his pants and pressing into your stomach.

“Say it,” you demanded, fingers tangling in his short golden hair and tugging sharply.

“Siren,” he whispered and you bit down on the shell of his ear causing him to hiss in both pleasure and pain.

He lifted you up and moved you both to the bed, laying you on your back and climbing over the top of you, his shirt hanging open around you as your hands once more explored the planes of his chest as he settled his hips between your thighs.

“How are you here?” Thor asked brusquely, his tone firm and direct despite everything you were doing to try and distract him.

“You never caught me,” you answered simply, your gaze searing into his. “Are you going to continue to question my existence or are you going to see if all the rumors of my kind are true?”

Thor growled deep in his chest in response and leaned down to capture your lips in a hard and dominating kiss. It was all teeth and tongue and raw sexual desperation. You shoved his shirt from his shoulders and tossed it over the side of the bed. His large hands ran down your sides to settle at your hips, where he lifted you against him to push you up higher on the bed, your head nestled in the pillows. Thor sat back on his knees as he took you in greedily, his hands coming to the tie at your waist and pulled the gold clothe from your form.

You reached out and slid your fingers along the waistline of his jeans, using his belt to help you pull yourself up. Your lips suckled at a soft spot of skin on his clavicle while your fingers deftly undid his belt, pulling it from the loops and tossing it to the floor with a clatter. Thor’s hands tangled in your hair as he lifted your face to his so he could kiss you again hungrily. You pulled yourself out from under him so that you could get his pants off, he was clumsier in his attempts to help than you thought he would be and you wondered when the last time the God of Fertility actually got to stand with his title.

When his pants and boxer briefs joined the rest of his clothing on the floor, you couldn’t help but marvel at the heavy cock that fell into your waiting hand. You shouldn’t have expected no less from him, yet the thick throbbing flesh of him caught you off guard. You stroked your fingers down his length gently, twisting your wrist ever so slightly to elicit a pornographic moan from the man in your grasp. You smirk and bite a mark under his jaw as you continue to stroke him. He growled deep in his throat and made to push you back but with a deft twist you had him laying on his back with you between his knees.

“Relax, my King,” you purred melodically.

Thor opened his mouth to protest the way you were using his title mockingly, but all words died in his throat as you licked a thick stripe up the underside of his cock. Running your tongue along the ridge of his head followed by you flicking the tip of your tongue across his slit had him cursing the Norns instead. You took him into your mouth slowly, giving your jaw time to adjust to his size, and cradled his balls gently in your hand kneading them in time with your bobbing. You had him seeing past the stars and the bifrost straight to the gates of Valhalla as you sucked him off with acute expertise. You could feel his balls tensing in your hand and his dick twitched heavily against your tongue so you pulled back with a hard suck, the loud popping noise echoing obscenely in the still room. You didn’t want to finish him yet, if you played this right you could extend your life force for another century off of him alone.

Thor gasped in surprise at the sudden lack of sensation and that alone almost had him losing it, but he gulped a deep breath of air and managed to stave himself off of the edge. “By the Norns,” Thor whispered to himself and you chuckled crawling up to give him a kiss on his scruffy cheek.

“You, woman, are very dangerous,” Thor muttered against your lips and you smiled cheekily.

“You have no idea, my King,” you teased.

The rumble in Thor’s chest mimicked thunder as he rolled you under him, trapping you between his arms. “You know of me, yet I do not know of you.”

“I go by Y/N,” you answered breathlessly as you ran your hands up his biceps, thinking them to be nothing but flesh covered marble.

Thor hummed vaguely as he planted rough, open mouthed kisses in a trail down your torso; stopping in his journey only to run his tongue heavily across your nipples causing you to arch into his wanting mouth. “That is very beautiful, but very modern,” he comments loftily as he continues down to your stomach, nipping sharply at the skin around your belly button. You gasp and lock your fingers in his hair as he breaths hot air against your core.

You choose to ignore his statement in favour of focusing on the assault his tongue started on your folds. Thor delved in, thumb rubbing harsh circles on your clit while he pressed his tongue inside of you. You felt your womb try to clamp down around him, and you moaned headily, eyes closed and head thrown back in ecstasy. Thor smirked against you as he ate you out greedily, switching to press a long digit inside of you while he sucked harshly on your clit. You tried to push against him, to get more friction from his beard against your thighs, but his other hand held your hips down firm into the mattress.

Your nails scrapped against Thor’s scalp as he pressed another finger into you and fucked you roughly with them, his knuckles pressing against your walls each time with enough force that you were sure there’d be bruising. The obscene noise of him lapping at your clit and the juices he pulled from you were driving you closer and closer to the edge.

“Thor,” you gasped. “I’m so close.”

He pulled his fingers out of you suddenly, leaving your cunt aching with emptiness, and he pulled his face from your core, swiping a large hand across his mouth and beard. You gaped at him and he smirked. “Doesn’t feel too good to be suddenly left hanging, does it?” he teased.

You narrowed your eyes at him but before you could get the chance to retort or pout he was rubbing the head of his thick cock against your entrance. Complaints died on your lips and were replaced with a wanting moan as your rocked your hips against him, forcing the head into you. Thor groaned at the warm velvet of your walls and slowly sunk into you until his hips were flush with yours.

Thor grabbed your hip with one hand while bracing himself on his other forearm by your head. He pulled himself out slowly to the edge before pushing back in with force causing both of you to arch into each other and moan at the same time. You placed one hand on his ribs and the other draped around his shoulders.

“I need you to fuck me, my God of Thunder,” you whispered into his ear. Thor leaned in to bite the cord of muscle to anchor himself as he set the rhythm of his cock slamming into you at a bruising pace.

You nails dug into his side and shoulder as you screamed a mixture of his name and profanities. Thor murmured praises and his own curses as he sucked bruises into your shoulder and the side of your neck. Grabbing the back of his head you move his mouth to yours, sucking at his bottom lip desperately and moaning against his mouth as you felt yourself toe the edge again.

“Thor…Thor…,” you gasped, repeating his name against his lips like a mantra. He gave a sharp snap of his hips in response that had you tumbling head first over the edge into your orgasm. You keened and arched off the bed into him. Thor’s hips stuttered, his pace faltering slightly as you clamped down harshly around him before he was spilling his seed inside of you.

You kissed him again, taking what energy and emotion he was giving you and drinking it in hungrily. As he pulled away and out of you, you licked your lips satisfied watching him as he fell against the pillows next to you.

“I think you took a thousand years off my life,” he muttered into the pillows.

You threw your head back and laughed brightly, running your nails up and down the muscles of his back. “No, my King, only about a hundred.”

He cracked one blue eye open at you, trying to determine if you were joking or not but couldn’t read your expression. He closed his eyes and decided if you were not joking, what was one hundred years compared to what he just experienced?

“Will you finish your song for me?” he asked softly, his energy depleted much more than normal and already drifting close to slumber.

You turned to your side and propped yourself up on your elbow, running your fingers through his hair and down to his beard. You smiled softly as you allowed yourself to admire the soft features of the half dozing man beside you.

“Bared on your tomb I am a prayer for you loneliness And would you ever soon come above unto me For once upon a time From the binds of your holiness I can always find the right slot for your sacred key…”

#lust actually #thor odinson #thor odinson x reader #thor x reader #thor fanfic #avengers fanfic #avengers fanfiction #avengers #marvel fanfiction #marvel #marvel fandom #marvel fanfic #thor smut

[joonies-dimps]

me in the museum, you in the wintergardens (chap. 1)

pairing(s): jungkook/namjoon, yoongi/jimin, /taehyung/jimin

summary: jimin is a filthy job-stealer, yoongi is tired of going to mcdonald's at two a.m., and jungkook can't get enough of the voice drifting down from the apartment upstairs.

word count: 1504

an: heyy here's the start of what I hope will be a great namkook adventure :') you can read it on ao3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/19088050/chapters/45348796 if that's more your style! There are also a pinterest board and a playlist over there!!

o - o - o - o - o

Jungkook doesn’t know what he’s expecting to see when he looks up from the case of overpriced macarons and heartbreakingly golden danishes, but every other scenario is blasted out of the way by the shit-eating grin plastered on his best friend’s face as he joyfully clacks a pair of tongs together.

“No way,” Jungkook manages.

“Yes way,” Jimin says--joyfully--and clacks the tongs together once more. Jungkook groans.

“Why didn’t you tell me you got the job?”

“I wanted it to be a surprise! They called me yesterday and told me to come in at six this morning--it was a bit of an ambush, honestly. Also, you’re holding up the line. The usual?”

Jungkook eyes the case again, contemplating if he should deviate just to spite Jimin, but the temptation of his favorite is too much and he finds himself nodding instead. Jimin swiftly grabs a chocolate croissant and slides it into a paper bag, moving toward the register.

“Don’t be upset, Kookie. I’m sure it was just my extra customer service experience and the fact that I was actually on time to my interview.” Jimin smirks. “Also, maybe the fact that I’m cuter.”

“Hey--!”

“Three eighty-seven, please.” Jimin takes his card as Jungkook sulks. “Kidding, by the way. You’re cute. You’re the cutest. Any bakery would be lucky to have such cute staff.”

“Yeah, sure, hyung.”

Jungkook is still frowning a little when Jimin hands him the bag. Amelie’s is the only bakery on this side of the city that makes decent croissants and he and Jimin are frequent customers, or, were, until Jungkook really, actually looked at his account balance and decided that he had to cut back his daily pain au chocolat intake. He had his trembling hopes set on scraping by with an employee discount but apparently Jimin beat him to it.

“What time do you get off?”

“Three,” Jimin replies. “Meet you at the park?”

“Sure,” Jungkook says. “But you better bring quiche or I’m sending your new boss those pictures, y’know, the ones where the only thing covering your bits is a dollop of--”

“How did you get those?!” Jimin shrills, cheeks approaching the color of the red velvet macarons on the counter.

“I dunno, hyung, how do birds fly? How is the sky blue?”

“Out. Get out of my house.” Jimin stomps back to the next customer in line and Jungkook can’t contain his grin.

“Quiche Lorraine, please!” Jungkook calls as he leaves the bakery. He thinks he sees Jimin throw him a (not very) discreet middle finger, face still blazing.

He bites into his chocolate croissant, late May sunshine whispering down onto his shoulders. It’s starting to smell like warm berries, even in the city, and some of the college students have just come home from school to spend the summer scooping ice cream. Heat waves dance off of busy streets and the residential areas are lush with drooping, leafy branches, the kind that make walking through them feel like living in a pop-up book.  

Yep, Jungkook thinks as the chocolate melts the bitterness in his chest. Still good.

o - o - o - o - o - o - o

“So,” Yoongi begins while Jungkook digs into his hard-earned quiche Lorraine. “I have some good news and some bad news.”

“Bad first,” Jimin says through a mouthful of raspberry tart, just as Jungkook says the opposite. Yoongi looks between them and then pushes up his glasses.

“The bad news is that I’m moving to L.A.”

“What?!” Crumbs fly out of Jimin’s mouth, his explosion turning heads at the picnic benches nearby. “When?!”

“Two weeks.”

“Hyuuung...” Jimin instantly goes into pout mode, lower lip drooping. “That’s so soon!”

“Yeah, hyung, why didn’t you tell us?”

“Well.” Yoongi looks down, fiddles with the corner of their picnic blanket. “An old friend of mine got in contact with me and the whole thing was kind of time-sensitive, so...I just--you both know how hard I’ve been trying to get a place down there--”

“Of course, hyung,” Jimin says, suddenly mature, his eyes kind but smile a little lacking. He glances at Jungkook, quick, almost so Jungkook doesn’t catch it. “And we’re really happy for you. Aren’t we, Kookie?”

Jungkook nods despite the squeeze in his stomach.

“You’re gonna be amazing, hyung. Doing what you’re meant to do.”

He receives one of those rare eye-smiles from Yoongi, the kind that makes Yoongi’s mouth go all soft right along with Jungkook’s insides.

“Thanks, Kook.” Yoongi reaches for an orange macaron. “Now, since I’m moving out, I bet you can guess what the good news is.”

“A decrease in the number of DTPH?”

Yoongi scowls.

“What the fuck is DTPH?”

“Death threats per hour--ow!”

A lean hand smacks him at the back of the head and somewhere Jungkook can hear Jimin giggle.

“No,” Yoongi growls, “and it’s good news for you specifically, so you better shut up and be grateful.”

“For me?” Jungkook is interested now, still rubbing the back of his head.

“Oh my god,” Jimin says with a grin. “Yoongi-hyung’s moving out.”

“Yeah, so?” It’s Jungkook’s turn to pout, looking back and forth between his hyungs. He’s about to open his mouth to whine when he gets it.

“Oh,” he breathes, because Yoongi, the artistic genius that he is, likes to surround himself with other artistic geniuses, which means that he lives in a place that’s made for artistic geniuses, a place that Jungkook, for the life of him, has been pining after since his very first visit.

“My room at the Laurelton,” Yoongi confirms, “is going to be available. And since the apartment manager is in love with me, I have, ehh, maybe more than a little say in who gets to take my place.”

“Everyone is in love with you, hyung,” Jimin remarks, breezily, and Yoongi actually blushes. Jungkook ignores them.

“Wait, wait--so are you, like, offering it to me?”

“You’re still looking for a place, right, Kook?”

Of course Jungkook’s still looking for a place. He loves Jimin, and sometimes even loves living with Jimin, but after only four weeks of sharing space they’re both going a little crazy. And Yoongi’s not offering up just any apartment, no, this is an apartment with a waitlist that’s had Jungkook’s name on it for two years and counting.

“Yes.” Jungkook leans forward to grasp Yoongi’s forearm pleadingly. “Hyung, if you give me your room at the Laurelton, I will--uh...” Jungkook looks around for inspiration. “I’ll get you a lifetime supply of macarons. With Jimin-hyung’s discount.”

Yoongi scrunches his nose up.

“Who the hell needs a lifetime supply of macarons? I’m planning to die by caffeine, not by sugar.” He knocks Jungkook’s knee with his own. “I’ll try and get you the room, out of the goodness of my very pure and very massive heart. Provided that you don’t spread those pictures of Jiminie around--”

Jimin throws up his hands in disdain.

“Why do I even try keeping anything to myself anymore? What’s the point?”

“I won’t, hyung.” Jungkook locks eyes with Yoongi as Jimin grumbles into another tart. “You can count on me.”

“Good,” Yoongi says. He holds out his pinky. “Promise?”

“Promise,” Jungkook echoes, hooking his little finger around Yoongi’s and then stamping their thumbs together. “No blackmail nudes.”

“If you two are done negotiating my dignity, can I go? I was supposed to meet Taemin-hyung at the studio, like, ten minutes ago.”

Jungkook gets up and stretches while Yoongi collects the remaining pastries in a paper bag.

“Are you doing more choreo with him?”

Jimin nods at Yoongi’s question.

“Mhm. And it’s hard, so we’ve been practicing at practically every hour of the day.”

“Is that why you’ve been texting me at two a.m. to get McDonald’s? I’ve never been so underslept in my life.”

“Well, I’d stop texting you if you’d stop answering me.”

Their conversation blurs in Jungkook’s ears and he lets it, admiring the deep shade cast by a grove of trees by the street. He snaps a picture of it on his phone and one of the cottony clouds, too, filing it away in his ‘references’ folder. Oils for the trees and maybe watercolor for the sky, he thinks, picturing himself sitting by the window at Yoongi’s--no, his--apartment at the Laurelton. He’d start with the clouds first, taking reference from the photo only at the beginning before switching over completely to the view from his window. Then he’d sigh out onto the fire escape with his brush in hand and swim through the viscous liquid of the sky--

“Hey, Jungkookie.” Jimin is punching him in the shoulder, hair looking not too far off from the clouds in Jungkook’s head. “Leaving. See you at home.”

“Bye, hyung. Tell Taemin-ssi hi.”

“I will.”

Jimin hugs Yoongi and waves goodbye, leaving Yoongi and Jungkook watching his back as he heads off toward the bus stop.

“Need a buddy, Kook?”

“Sure.”

They start in the other direction, clouds melting down the napes of their necks.

#my writing #namkook #namjoon/jungkook #yoonmin #yoongi/jimin #fic #bts fic #bts #jeon jungkook #kim namjoon #park jimin #min yoongi #kim taehyung #kim seokjin #jung hoseok #lee taemin #summer au #painter au #cumulus cirrus stratus

[esthersequeira]

polychromatic

blue || hyacinthum

when he cried, i saw a torrential downpour. the kind that could destroy nations and cause havoc on a person. and the first time he cried in front of me, he told me baby i’ll never do it again how could i baby i didn’t mean it baby please don’t cry baby it’ll make me cry baby don’t cry baby please don’t cry baby i love you baby i really love you really baby i’m sorry baby. his fist fell heavy at his side, just as heavy as it had fallen on my cheek. he told me his father put his fist through walls, so he put his fist through walls. i would often sit among the scattered remnants of his love. the roses, they remind me of him. the thorns remind me of the blows he delivered, marking me each time, drawing blood each time. but the petals on the bluebells he sent, they remind me of the kisses he planted on each bruise. his mouth would open just slightly and i would be able to feel his breath on my face, warm and coaxing. and the letters! the sweet nothings he’d whisper to me promising me he’d never do it again. god how i wish i believed them. but i just couldn't, just like the sun and the ocean line, forever in awe of each other, always distant, but never meeting. and maybe i will remember him forever by the twisted catastrophe he played me out to be.

grey || ravus

do you like the taste of metal? the taste of rotting rust and decaying bullet caught in your jaw. do you like firing blanks in the dead of the night? no one loves you anymore mi amor, ah but what do you care, your juliet’s your gun. did you like playing dress up in your fathers old uniform? your mother often whispered to you that you didn’t have what it took to be him. do you often call your father to hear him send abuses down your ear? the tone of his voice makes you flinch but you blame it on the knife that’s digging into your palm. do you still stare down the barrel of the shot gun you bought last winter? that cold winter morning, you learnt how to shoot. do you like the feel of rope in your hands? do you finally feel in control? do you want to live? do you want to die?

yellow || flavus

is it true that girls like me glow golden? is it true that girls like me make you think of butterflies? is it true that my skin shines when the sun does? is it true that girls like me cry sunshine?

does my presence leave you reminiscent of warm sands and soft waves? does my voice carry like lazy summer afternoons? does my body remind you of the shape of bottles of beer? does the way i look at you feel like being tanned?

do i really taste like salted caramel and gold honey? do i really feel like acrylic on denim and mahogany furniture? do i really smell like oranges and lemons? do i really sound like poetry and symphonies? do i really feel like shades of light and warmth?

purple || purpureus

she’s drunk on old cartoons, liquid tv and hazy nights. her eyes catch winks of neon signs that glow bright far too late in the night. her head tilts back when she laughs. and when she kisses him, his world stops. she has a habit of holding onto the front of his jacket. holding tight, and not letting go, holding tight to her balloon boy. she won’t do what her mother did. she’s felt love, and she’ll be damned if she lets it go. her hands trail constellations on his bare back, and he forgets about going home. she talks about the stars like they spin just for her. when she talks about something she loves, her voice drops down. you have to lean in to hear her. she won’t have anyone listen to her heart and the things that make it what it is. she won’t tell them she loves the louvre. what if someone stole it away from her?

white || albus

angel child tell your mother what's wrong. tell her you can't sleep anymore and your heart has turned to stone. angel child talk to your father about your mind. tell him you go for therapy and drink at night to keep warm. angel child tell your brother you love him. tell him he's stronger than he thinks. angel child hug your sister. tell her she's beautiful and will one day find someone who loves her more than life itself. angel child kiss the girl you love. tell her she's radiant and write poetry about her. angel child say good bye to your friends before you leave. tell them they are kind and gentle and tell them not to lose hope. angel child get off that ledge. no angel child not like that.

green || virids

i fear not, you or your demons. but i do so hope you worry about mine. you tell me that shakespeare was right and we should all be scared of the green-eyed monster which doth mock the meet it feeds on, but here you are, worried about me running away with the girl with a golden heart. but oh how foolish you are! this land you place your foot on is not your own. you walk in gardens that weren’t made for you, and breathe in saccharine air that you do not deserve. these flowers that you trample beneath your feet, weren’t created for the woes you relay unto them. they trembled for your mercy because they knew the devil walked among them.

golden || aureus

the light in your eyes never seemed to fade, it shone honey iridescent shimmering incandescent gold. they would often beckon my name, even if it hadn’t come out of your mouth. the pages of your journal held that light. the movies that you watched held it too. as did the songs that you sung and the sketches you drew. you gave out light to everyone who could hold it. you gave it to your mother, and you gave it to your father. you gave it to me and to your sister. did you give out too much, sunshine? or were you simply looking to throw away the human part of you?

red || ruber

i found him in the blood that poured from my veins. i found in his voice the garden of eden. i found in him the forbidden fruit. but be warned, for when he talked he spat roses in my face, and called it art. he told me his sins were heavenly and my miracles too hellish to endure. he cast away dead flowers to empty graves and laughed at the thought of ending up in one. and as the weather outside became harder, colder and bitter; as did he. beer bottles became vodka and i, his muse became another saturated soul in his book of lust. he told me love poured out him the way poetry poured out of me, and wouldn’t the world be a better place if only everyone could have his love?

silver || argenteus

come now darling, fabricate some lies and tell me you care. come now darling, drink your beer, your liquor's cheap and your eyes even cheaper. come now darling, smoke away your imported sophistication and kiss some people who's names you won't remember. come now darling, show me where you want to run away too and hold my hand pretending you'll take me with you. come now darling, write me a verse or two and sing me that one song we loved. come now darling, curl your hands around my neck and let me breath your intoxicating perfume. come now darling, put your hands on my waist like you did once before. come now darling, show me you care, just once more. come now darling, watch me open a door and leave with your heart. oh come now darling, don't cry, i'm only doing to you what you did to me.

#polychromatic #colors #latin #bibliophile #booklover #bookphotography #bookworm #booknerd #readwithus #bookblog #bookblogger #bookish #bookaddict #vscobook #bookporn #booknerdigans #instareads #writing #books #vscobooks #bookgram #publishing #wip #amwriting #pubtip #authors #writers #bookpublishing #poetry #reading

[todaydreambelieversfic]

Author Spotlight: lilyvandersteen day 4

This is honestly one of the finest rec lists because it’s thematic. I couldn’t make all of the authors tag so have tried to list them in the tags too

Day 4: Recs!

Ooooh… I LOVE reccing fics! Only five, though? All right, then… 

I’ll try and stay off the beaten path for this. It would be easy enough to mention one of the classics by @anxioussquirrel, @chazzam​ , @mrscriss2012, @zavocado​, @missbeizy , @nadiacreek​, @heartsmadeofbooks​ or Rainjoy, but you already know and love those stories, so what’s the point?

 1.      One of our fandom’s most original and imaginative writers is @sunshineoptimismandangels​. I love her stories. She can take an age-old trope and completely turn it upside down and inside out. I love her take on Kurt and Blaine, and she writes Cooper so well, too. The fic of hers I’m going to rec is Missing Pieces. I’m not going to spoil the plot for you. All I’ll say is that I’ve read and re-read this story countless times, and it never fails to move me. Absolute must-read!

Excerpt:

"Why did those men think we were gross?" he asked. "What did we do wrong?"

"Nothing," Kurt said, turning in his seat to face B. "We didn't do anything wrong. Some people just don't like to see two men together."

"But… They were all men and together."

"Yes, but they thought we were on a date, and they don't like gay people."

"They don't like people just because they are gay?"

Kurt sighed. He hated that this was something B had to learn about the world. "Yes."

"People are scared of things they don't understand," B said, remembering the words Kurt had told him before.

"Yeah, and sometimes people don't want to understand."

B was quiet for a moment and Kurt watched him closely, trying to determine what he was thinking. Slowly, a smile grew on B's lips.

"They thought we were on a date?"

Kurt rolled his eyes and laughed. "That's what you got from what just happened?"

B shrugged and smiled. "I don't mind people thinking we were on a date."

 2.      I’m a fluff writer, and I also love to read fluff. Nothing brings me more joy than waking up to a new story by @hazelandglasz​, @whatstheproblembaby​, @a-simple-rainbow, @chatterboxrose​, @sir-pyllero​, @notthetoothfairy​, @skivvysupreme or @fablewriter . They never fail to make me smile and they improve my mood a thousand-fold. If you’re fever feeling blue, I encourage you to look up these authors on AO3 and read some of their offerings – it will make you feel happier in no time.

The piece of fluff I’m going to rec here, though, is a wonderful cross-over between Glee and Enchanted called That’s How You Know, and written by the lovely @afterthenovels . It’s still a WIP, but there’s more than enough of it to capture your attention, and there’s no cliffhanger that will make you count the days until we get the next chapter. And oh, I love this story SO much. Kurt and Blaine are so sweet and shy and oblivious, and they complement each other so well. *Happy sigh* Read it, you’ll LOVE it, that’s a guarantee.

 Excerpt:

Blaine steps closer as quietly as he can, but Kurt doesn’t even stir, his eyelashes fanned out over his cheeks as he sleeps. He looks... younger. Less like a prince and more like a regular man.

“I guess you really were tired,” Blaine says quietly.

He unfolds the blanket in his arms and spreads it carefully over Kurt’s body, making sure it covers him from neck to toe. Kurt shifts in his sleep, huddling closer to the warmth and letting out a pleased hum, his lips curling into a small smile, and Blaine can’t help the smile that spreads over his own face.

His hair is a mess, he has no idea where his boyfriend is or why he missed their date tonight, his best friend is worried about his love life, and there’s a strange man sleeping on his couch, looking surprisingly at home for someone who’s clearly very far away from home.

Yeah. Maybe he can deal with all of this tomorrow.

 3.      Much as I hate scary movies, I love to read scary stories once in a while. Ghosts and vampires and djinns and the like stirring up no end of trouble. I’m reading a delightfully eerie nail-biter right now called Callaway Place (also by @sunshineoptimismandangels), but the story I’m going to recommend here is All the Beautiful Pieces by @lady-divine-writes​. Once again, it’s a WIP, but I hope you won’t let that scare you off, because this story has everything to keep you spell-bound: a house with a dark past, voodoo magic, a protagonist with second sight, and a sweet love story between Kurt and Blaine, because of course they find each other and fall in love in spite of all the craziness surrounding them.

Excerpt:

Blaine slips a hand beneath the puppet’s shoulder and another behind his head, lifting him ever so gently and relocating him the final distance.

“Just a few more inches,” Blaine says in a soothing voice, “and we’ll wrap you up and put you in the box.” Blaine gazes at the puppet’s face, into his single good eye. He smiles wider as he lays the puppet on the blanket, but his hand beneath the puppet’s head starts to feel warm. It begins at a spot in the center of Blaine’s palm and radiates like a single ray of golden sunshine. It’s liquid heat, pouring into his veins, shooting out to his fingers, filling his body up like a cup of cocoa on a cold winter’s day.

His eyes are open, his mind awake, but the haze returns. It obscures his vision in a veil of white mist. It drifts in front of his eyes. He can only peek through in random spots where it thins, revealing shimmering images that disappear like the dreams you hold on to in those seconds right before you wake.

“Can you feel that?” Blaine hears his own voice whispering inside his head.

“I do,” another voice replies. It’s high and lilting, pure as silk and singing in his ears.

“What does it feel like?” 

“It feels like…like summer all over my body…”

Blaine laughs, pressing his lips to cool skin. “And what else?”

A giggle answers him in that same musical voice. “It feels like…”

The voice gasps, and Blaine feels his body tighten.

“It feels like you,” the voice whimpers breathlessly. “Everything is you…all around me…it’s you…”

Blaine closes his eyes as the world collapses in on him. Behind his eyelids he can see another set of eyes gazing back at him – perfect blue eyes, patient blue eyes, loving blue eyes that shift to grey and glimmer like rare jewels. Quivering pink lips smile at him, part, and then whisper a single, blissfully choked-off word.

“Blaine…”

 4.      I much admire writers who can make their readers laugh their heads off. So the fourth fic I’m going to recommend is a very funny one. In this category, honourable mentions go to @skivvysupreme’s Drunk Kurt fics, Sexy101 by Sweet Emii, Seduction & Straight For A Week by @Crazy4Klaine and When you read my mind by @alexwishington​. But the story I’m choosing to spotlight is called Teenage dreams and movie scenes, and it’s written by @saraklaine100​. Both Kurt and Blaine are famous in this fic, and Kurt has a huge crush on Blaine, so his best friends corner Blaine until he agrees to meet Kurt. Cue a very embarrassed Kurt, and an instantly smitten Blaine. This story is amazing. Guaranteed to cheer you up however blue you’re feeling.

 Excerpt:

 Kurt was working on autopilot. He had no conscious decision to outstretch his hand or the time to process it. He just stared at those hazel eyes he found so fascinating one moment and the next he could feel Blaine's warm hand squeezing his own. He felt prickles all over his skin. Well, up until the moment James and Oliver clasped their hands and all but yelled "We now pronounce you Kurt Hummel and his teenage dream" and Kurt facepalmed at this, ripping his hand away from Blaine's hold.

 "Get the fuck out" Kurt hissed at his friends and they knew better than to stay. They patted Blaine's shoulder like he's an old friend, still smiling and he could swear he heard Sean say "Condoms are under the sink" before they left.

 Kurt was still craning his face in his hands. "Please just leave" he said. "Just...Look, I'm gonna keep my face covered and you can just run away and you can pretend this never happened. Send me the bill from therapy. "

 5.      And of course my fic rec list wouldn’t be complete without a smutty fic rec. It’s so difficult to narrow this down to just one fic. Some authors you should definitely check out in this category are @dualwielding, @stellata, icedwhitemochas, flyblckbirdfly and rayychel infinity, but the fic I’m going to recommend is by @caramelcoffeeaddict. It’s called Desperate Times… and it’s absolutely smut-a-licious, but definitely more than just PWP. It’s a wonderful story, and I promise you that you will love it.

Excerpt:

Devon takes a few steps back, so he’s now standing in front of Angel, and starts teasing the removal of his pants; all while dancing seductively to the music. His fingers twist in the waistband of his pants and then he yanks hard, pulling the breakaway pants off, and throwing them at the wall behind Angel. He’s left in just a tight red thong that leaves nothing to the imagination.

Once again, Devon straddles Angel, hovering just above his lap. He stretches his arms above his head, crossing them at the wrists, and rolls his hips down, teasing Angel. Devon turns himself around, bending at the waist, showing off his ass. He cranes his head around to see Angel licking and biting his lips as he stares at Devon’s ass. Devon smirks, and then smacks his own ass once, before righting himself and winking at Angel.

Turning around to face Angel, Devon starts to play with the straps of his thong, giving Angel tiny glimpses of his cock. He straddles him once again, gyrating to the music. “Would you like to touch me, Angel?” Devon asks in a low, sultry voice.

Angel visibly gulps, lets out a shaky breath, and slowly nods his head.

#author spotlight #fic recs #galore! #missbeizy #stellata #icedwhitemochas #flyblckbirdfly #rayychel infinity #caramelcoffeeaddict #crazy4klaine #skivvysupreme #fablewriter #a-simple-rainbow #afterthenovels