boom shaking

Stolen Clothes - Peter Parker

Prompt: Reader is afraid of thunder/lightning and there is a freak thunderstorm, and her best friend, Peter Parker, has to comfort her.

Words: 2,499

Warnings: None- fluff mainly.

Bolts of bright light cracked across the dark sky. The constant breakouts of lightning flashes through your thick curtains. Booming of ground shaking thunder shook your dead apartment unevenly. 

You were curled up in your bed eye glued on the TV screen out of fear. The storm knocked out the satellite being the reason you were staring at a frozen screen for the last half an hour. You hid your body from the horrid weather under a mound of warm blankets fresh out of the dryer.

Fuzzy socks covered your feet and a steaming cup of hot chocolate rested untouched on your nightstand. Paralyzed with fear you didn’t dare move a muscle. Even though you hated thunder storms you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from the rain pounding against your window. It was like the scene of a car crash, the best thing was to avoid the mess but it was almost impossible to think about anything else.

A loud crash hit your window earning a screeching yelp from yourself. The stray branch from a tree outside blew in the wind knocking the glass continuously. You parents fell asleep in pure bliss to the tempest leaving you to wallow in your lonesome. 

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Still Remembering - Smut

Originally posted by stilesstilinskiandlydiamartin

Author: @dumbass-stilinski
Rating: NSFW 18+
Pairing: Stiles Stilinski/Reader
Words: 1,917
AN: So this was a song fic request that @writing-obrien​ got but she wasn’t familiar with the band. Since I am pop punk trash, I love me some As It Is (Patty Walters can fucking get it, let me tell you) so I was really excited about it and I asked her if I could write it instead. Please be aware it’s super angsty and sad and then kinda fluffy and idk what I was doing. And I know the song is kind of a goodbye but I couldn’t leave Stiles like that lol.

Based on the song Still Remembering by As It Is. Listen HERE.

Thunder boomed loudly outside, shaking the window panes, the sharp sound of rain pelting on the roof doing nothing to comfort me. I sighed, burying my face in my pillow, my arms limply at my sides. I couldn’t stop thinking of her, even though she’d left me. She’d gone one day without a word, a note left in her place, explaining that she needed time, that she was afraid. She loved me too much, needed me too much, wanted to find herself on her own. I was pretty sure it was bullshit, an excuse to make herself feel better about leaving me alone.

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Storms (Post CACW ThunderIron)

Welcome to the story! Grab some tissues! God the angst in this fic is going to be killer guys, there’s your warning.

If you’d like to be tagged in additional chapters, drop me a like or a reblog!


Seriously though, tissues!

Thor was excited to be home, excited to be back at the compound with all his friends. He had been gone for so long, dealing with Asgard and everything had gone so wrong so suddenly…

Well anyway, he was relieved to be away from Asgard. He was ready for Tony’s ridiculous movie nights, and Clint’s haphazard breakfast creations, and sparring with Captain, and trading war stories with Natasha. He was looking forward to spending time with Bruce, the quiet scientist with a wicked sense of humour that was matched only by Tony’s cutting wit.

He was even looking forward to the mission debriefings, where Tony and Steve inevitably fought and bickered, and Tony usually ended up storming off in some grand fashion, the color high in his cheeks, dark eyes sparking dangerously.

The genius was beautiful in something of a delicate way, and Thor had always had a hard time keeping himself from staring. Tony was not a large man by any means, but his passion for whichever cause he was engaged in was unparalleled. Thor loved to sit and watch him talk, to watch him work, to watch him—

Thor just liked to watch Tony, period. And if he were honest, it took most of his self control to only watch, because Thor would love to see Tony flushed and passionate spread out across a large bed and bathed in firelight. In fact, he was sure Tony would look more beautiful like that than any other way. Of course, they had never had any time to discuss or explore any of those things, but now that Thor was back again, perhaps in between missions he and the soft haired genius could spend real time together, and Thor would get the chance to tell him how he felt.

So when Thor landed in front of the Avengers compound with a crack of lightning and a ground shaking boom of thunder, burning the pattern of the bifrost into the lawn, he was caught up in his thoughts and didn’t notice that the grass was brown and dead, that there were no vehicles parked in the driveway.

Too intent on seeing Tony, on giving the man a hug, on hearing that light hearted laugh, it wasn’t even until he was striding through the halls towards the common area, holding Mjolnir lightly in one hand, and calling for the team that he realized that most of the lights weren’t even on. The rooms were locked up, the windows dirty, the few plants wilted from neglect.

The compound was…silent, and Thor stopped uneasily at the door to the common room, noting that even though the room had been repaired since the fight with Ultron, it looked like it hadn’t been touched in months.

“Hello?” he called, and his deep voice echoed through the empty building. “Hello?”


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anonymous asked:

For the writting prompts, maybe percabeth and number 12?

panicked/accidental confession


Friday family dinner turns quickly into chaos.

If it’s not one of the usual kinds of crazy–a baby-flung scrap of food turned into a full-fledged food fight, an offhand joke at the central brazier that turns into an impromptu camper roast, a loud and obnoxious and roaring sing-along–it’s most certainly the other. Screaming, and panicking, and a deafening boom that shakes the ground and rattles dust from the columns of the dining pavilion. The protective barrier around Camp Half-Blood flickers fire-red, then dissolves.

Clarisse is the first to stand, weapon in-hand; Piper is the second. “Everybody stay calm!” she shouts, climbing atop Aphrodite’s table. “Just–just stay calm!”

The screaming lessens, soothed by her charmspeak as much as her presence. Annabeth, for her part, mostly feels Piper’s anxiety atop her own. She gets to her feet and scans the visible borders of the camp, stares hard at the darkening shadows at the tree line, the stretching strawberry fields, the spaces between the cabins. The tall sanctuary of the climbing wall. The placid waters of the Sound. All the places something might easily hide. All the places an invading force might emerge from.


She stares, too, at her daughter’s face, her round cheeks and scared, trusting eyes. “We’re fine, baby.”

“Loud,” Daisy cries, grabbing at her ears and leaning into Annabeth’s thigh. “Daddy’s coming back?”

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The Future Looks Good: Prologue

In the end, there is no other choice. Aelin sacrifices herself for Erilea. But when it seems that all is lost and she will never draw breath again, something miraculous happens. A few months later, Aelin and her court discover the unexpected consequences from that miracle. Apparently, not everyone stays dead forever.

Word Count: 2042

Read on AO3



An intense, skin peeling, hair singeing, earth melting burn.

That’s the only sensation Aelin knows. The only one she’s known for a while now. For all of the five months she’s been in Maeve’s grasp.

The burn of her iron box, iron chains, and iron mask. The burn of whip across her back, her shoulders, and her legs. The burn of her fire, restlessly waiting and building under her skin.

A sudden BOOM and the shaking of the earth beneath her reminds Aelin of where she is. In her box, next to the battlefield. So close to Rowan, to her mate. Her husband. She can feel the bond between them, more alive than it’s ever been. She knows he’s fighting to get to her. She almost cries out with the joy of it, with the joy of knowing she’s within his reach. But she can’t get distracted. She has a job to do.

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But IF John and Sherlock were watching fireworks, whenever that might be, Sherlock’s eyes would be fixed on the night sky, his hands moving excitedly as he explained the chemical composition of each colorful blast, detailing the precision required to pack each explosive so that multiple charges could produce perfectly timed starbursts of shimmering light and chest-shaking booms. He wouldn’t be able to tear his eyes away for even a moment. Because Sherlock loves fireworks. 

 And John? He’s not watching the fireworks. Well not in the usual way at least. He’s watching them through Sherlock. He’s watching the myriad of colors flicker across his sweetheart’s cheekbones and brow. He’s watching Sherlock’s mouth as it widens into a surprised “oh” and then a boyish grin after a remarkably loud detonation. He’s watching his favorite curls ruffle gently in the light breeze of this blessedly cool evening. Because John loves fireworks, too.

 But he loves Sherlock more.

Originally posted by lolitas-pastel-goth

🌩Yuri is like super afraid of thunderstorms but he doesn’t want to look weak or anything so nobody knows.

🌩But one day after practice otabek and Yuri are just chilling at their apartment bc they totally live together and its only been a few weeks and the weathers been nice so there hasn’t been a thunderstorm yet.

🌩And so they’re just chilling and its getting late right. And all of a sudden Yuri sees lightening flash from the corner of his eye and tenses up bc ‘oh crap oh crap oh crap not here not now oh crap’

🌩And I mean he’s the ‘ice tiger of Russia, he’s not afraid of anything’ Right and ‘good thing beka is in the other room and he can’t see me like this all weak and afraid’

🌩But then ofc beka comes strolling in the room mindlessly scrolling on his phone at that moment and yuri is just kinda frozen for a second.

🌩Then the thunder hits and that’s when he jumps. And Otabek is all like ‘wait did I see that right or are my eyes screwing with me?’

🌩So he goes and asks Yuri if he’s okay and ‘what?! Of course I’m okay! I’m perfectly fine, what are you talking abo-EEK!’ and he just squeaks and hides his face in bekas shirt, clinging to him as another roll of thunder hits.

🌩And beka just smiles and wraps his arms around him. ‘perfectly fine huh?’ Beka chuckles while mindlessly playing with yuris hair. Yuri huffs and looks up at his bf and is all like 'oh shut up!’ before clinging harder to his shirt as an especially loud boom shakes the apartment

🌩And yuri is shaking and beka is all like 'kitten, you don’t have to try to be strong all the time. Being afraid doesn’t make you weak its part of human nature. And you know, even tigers aren’t fearless’ and as yuri nods his head at his remark beka kisses his head and holds him tight until the storm passes

Hiraeth | Pt.3

pt.1 | pt.2 | pt.3 | pt.4 | pt.5 | pt.6 | pt.7 | pt.8 | pt.9 |

Words: 5,392.

Genre: Zombie apocalypse au, angst.

Summary: A world full of dwindling hope and lost loves and yet you and Jungkook are all the other needs to feel at home.

A/N: Inspired by The Last of Us.

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sound-of-inspiration  asked:

Hmmmm~, if you're still doing it: How about IwaOi and Safety? :3

So I stole some headcanons about Iwaizumi from @amalasdraws, hope that’s okay!!!!! I just loved them so much and then Alina gave me this prompt and AHHHHH it just worked so perfectly. Hope you like it!!!!!! Thanks for the prompt!!!! Also I just now realized you said “Safety” and not “safe” so I hope this is okay!!!!

Rating: G

The storm started in the early night, the sky began to cry when they fell past consciousness into sleep and as midnight clocked the thunder began to clap and the lightning scream.

Oikawa woke first, the flashing blue spirits dancing in the windows of their bedroom, their booming laughter shaking the walls and panes. Iwaizumi lay asleep still on his stomach, his hand outreached over the edge of the bed, resting on the floor, the other pillowing his head.

Oikawa pulls the blankets up over Iwaizumi’s waist, covering his body as he sees a chill run through his skin.

He slides out of bed himself and pads across the carpet to the windows, pulling the string of the blinds to cover the world just as Iwaizumi’s always does. The sky flashes and claps and blurs in the rain and the house rattles. Iwaizumi moans, his brow creasing, his muscles tensing and then his eyes open the racing of his heart flashing in the reflection of his mind.

“Tooru?” Iwaizumi calls, pushing himself up in the bed. Oikawa turns as thunder breaks the hush again, and Iwaizumi jumps, sighing and pressing his hands to his forehead.

“I was just closing the blinds.” He pulls down on the last string, the blinds slinking down over the night sky windows. Iwaizumi breathes deeply, the sound swimming in the silence.

“Thanks.” He whispers and opens the bedside table drawer digging around for his headphones. The clatter of the pens and chapsticks in the drawer and hush of the rain and thudding of his heart is setting Iwaizumi’s teeth on edge, his bones already trembling in anticipation of more thunder and lightning.

Oikawa glances at the earbuds on the desk across the room. He picks them up as Iwaizumi’s digging becomes louder, harsher until he slams the drawer and presses his palms to his forehead. He stands at the edge of Iwaizumi’s side of the bed.

“Here.” Oikawa holds out the headphones to Iwaizumi, handing him his phone as well. Iwaizumi lifts his head from his hands and looks up at Oikawa, his eyes wide and brow tense like he’s pained by the anxiety in his core.

“Thank you.” He takes the headphones and phone, plugging them into each other and scrolling through the music. Oikawa steps closer to the bed and lifts a leg over Iwaizumi’s lap, straddling him.

His shins press to the mattress as he sits close, Iwaizumi placing his hands on Oikawa’s thighs. The thunder shatters the air and the lightning vibrates the air again. The sounds strike Iwaizumi like a bat, sharp and splintering and makes his heart jump down to his stomach, making his whole body feel heavier with fear.

“Shhhhhhh, look at me, Hajime, look at me.” Oikawa traces his fingers along Iwaizumi’s jawline and cups his cheeks caressing them. Iwaizumi’s eyes unchain from the windows and focus on Oikawa’s, falling deeply into their brown hues of sunsets.

“I’m here, you’re safe,” Oikawa runs his hands through Iwaizumi’s though hair, the tresses unexpectedly loose and soft between his fingers. Iwaizumi nods, leaning his head back into Oikawa’s touch, seeking its security and warmth as it spreads over his skin.

“You’re safe.”

Iwaizumi slides a hand up Oikawa’s thigh to his back pressing him forward and leaning in until they come together in the middle, slipping into each other like the ease of breathing. They relax each other and distract one another.

The music plays softly in the background of their kiss, Iwaizumi dedicating all his heartbeats to Oikawa, finding silence in his touch and finally feeling still in his skin, his chaos melting with the taste of Oikawa.

Lethargy still swims deep in their bones, and when they pull their lips apart they breathe each other in and the grow closer once again. Oikawa slides down Iwaizumi, laying his head against his chest wrapping an arm around his waist. Iwaizumi places a hand on Oikawa’s back, running it up and down and through his hair focusing on Oikawa alone as his eyes grow heavier.

The thunder booms and lightning again dances behind the window shades, and Iwaizumi holds his breath for a moment as the sound finds a way past his music, but then Oikawa says those words again.

“You’re safe, Hajime, you’re safe.” And Iwaizumi somehow hears him, feels the rumble of Oikawa’s voice in his chest and feels his heart calm at Oikawa’s reassurance, at his closeness.

“Tooru.” He lays back in his pillow, letting his head grow heavy. Oikawa hums his response.

“Thank you.” He says it in a whisper as his eyes drift past lids into another sight of consciousness. Oikawa kisses Iwaizumi’s chest, before falling heavily into a dream.

mikareally  asked:

Hey there,,, i saw a post saying you were accepting requests,, so i decided yo? Haha sorry for the bother~ Is it okay if i request a scenario for Todoroki and Midoriya where they're training, but by accident they just barely miss hitting this girl (using their quirks) who was going to pass by quickly xD I knowww it's weird but, thank you anyway xD

Of course! I love requests. I hope this satisfies, please tell me if I did anything incorrect. XD

Todoroki Shouto:

You watched from a distance, eyeing the heated training battle between Bakugou and Todoroki with timidity. It was true, you were quite intimidated by the powerful quirk-bearing students, and it was even worse that Todoroki’s skills make your heart leap out of your chest.

You had a pretty useful quirk of your own, but it could never possibly measure up to his power.

“Take this, bastard!” Bakugou roared, coming at Todoroki with an impressive barrage detonating from his hands. Nerves spiked through you, your fingers gripping the material of your gym uniform with apprehension. But the cool-headed boy was prepared.

In one sudden stroke of his arm, threatening spikes of ice surge out from the ground and halted Bakugou’s attack. As expected, Todoroki stood undefeated as his opponent simply became more enraged. You sigh with relief, relaxing your tight posture. Thank goodness.

When you were least expecting it, Aoyama got flung out of the opposite training rink and collided into you, knocking you down. Your throwing knives scattered across the ground, and it didn’t help that the pretentious boy accidentally kicked one out of your reach.

“Oops, sorry! I guess I was too beautiful you-” Aoyama began, but you were ignoring him as you started to pick up your knives. You saw one a couple meters away, so you went over to retrieve it. Just as you snatched it off the floor, a loud BOOM shakes you from your feet up.

You turn to see Bakugou and Todoroki fighting in the air above you, shards of ice ricocheting and flying everywhere. You must have miscalculated your whereabouts. Todoroki and Bakugou landed on the ground again, not even noticing your presence.

“LOOK OUT!” shouted Midoriya, who noticed the danger before you did. Todoroki’s spikes of ice were breaching the ground and heading straight to you. You let out a small scream, bracing yourself for impact, and at the sound Todoroki whips his head around to see you in an alarming situation. His eyes widen, immediately cutting off the flow of ice speeding towards you.

He ran towards you, hoping he didn’t hurt you at all. “I am really sorry, I didn’t realize you were behind me…” he said with an informative but worried tone.

Todoroki reached out to help you back up to your feet, brushing his fingers against your hand to instigate assistance. Your cheeks flushed a little, in which you covered your hand over your face as he got you back up. Concern laced his features, noticing how you hid your face from him. “Are you sure I didn’t hurt you?”

He examined you, gently prying your fingers away from your eyes so he could get a better look. This only caused you to blush even more, your lip trembling. “Y-Yeah, I’m thanks, you’re perfect-” you stumbled over your own words, internally screeching at what you had just said. I’m thanks, you’re perfect? Fuck.

Thankfully he didn’t pay it any mind. But he did notice, “Your face is hot. Do you have a fever?”

“I’m fine,” you stuttered.

In the distance, an impatient Bakugou groaned to himself. “Come the fuck on, guys. Get a fucking room.”

You nearly shrieked at the insensitive words, while Todoroki had no idea what it meant in the first place. “Right, the infirmary. We should get you a room there,” he nodded. Bakugou rolled his eyes, while Mineta came up to the clueless boy and told him to bend down so he could tell him something.

“What is it?” Todoroki asked.

After Mineta had whispered into Todoroki’s ear about what Bakugou meant, he bolted up straight and covered his lightly blushing face with his hand and looked away from you. “Uh, here, have some ice,” he formed some ice cubes and tied them in a handkerchief and gave it to you as a… kind gesture?

You nodded, slightly fazed, but put the ice on your forehead anyways. Shy Todoroki was a Todoroki that you wanted to see more often.

Midoryia Izuku:

“Go, go, Izu-chan! Fight, Fight, Izu-chan!” you cheered on your best friend joyously, jumping up and down to the beat of your own cheer. He turned a deep shade of red, laughing sheepishly.

“I will try my best!”

“Ugh, just get married already you dumb fucks,” Bakugou growled, in which you pouted and smacked his arm lightly.

“That’s mean, Katsu-chan,” you told him off. He was an old friend of yours too, but he didn’t have the same animosity towards you that he did Midoriya. So he couldn’t really bring himself to punch you or scream any more than his usual aggressive self would.

He gritted his teeth as he hissed, “Stop calling me Katsu-chan!”

You giggled to yourself, halting your cheering to call out, “Katsu-chan is Katsu-chan! Right, Izuku?”

Midoriya paused for a couple seconds to glance between you and Bakugou, who had a death glare on his face. Naturally, Midoriya didn’t want to piss off the angriest person on planet earth, so he shyly passed and smiled at you instead to avoid any explosion-related casualties later on.

“Good luck!” you shouted, grinning at the boy. He gave you a thumbs up, and gets into a fighting stance to match against his opponent, Mezo Shouji.

By this time, Bakugou was getting intensely annoyed by your happy-go-lucky supportive attitude towards his rival. Half-way through the match, he was almost at his wits end with you. All the “Go, go, Izu-chan!” stuff was giving him and only him a headache.

“Izu-chan this, Izu-chan that! Fuck, you’re infuriating,” Bakugou pushes you, albeit a little more forcefully than he meant to, but because Kirishima’s foot was in the way you tripped towards the match. Kirishima attempted to grab you before you could stumble out into the midst of battle, but his reflexes failed and you got in the way of the battle.

In these kinds of cases, Midoriya would be the one to run after you and make sure you weren’t hurt. But in this particular instance, Midoriya was the one who posed the danger. In that split second, he had activated his powers with a full on Texas Smash coming straight towards you at lightning fast speed.

“Oh my god,” Bakugou watched with exasperation as Midoriya was about to make the worst mistake in this life. He knew that Deku would never be able to forgive himself if he hurt you and become a sobbing mess which would ultimately piss Bakugou off, so he took it upon himself to send a very resonant explosion to knock the reality back into the poor boy. The blast makes impact, and Midoriya is knocked out of the ring as well as his punch being misdirected to the dirt ground. That must have hurt like a bitch.

You are propelled a few feet back but otherwise go unharmed, while Midoriya’s whole arm is battered from the strain of using his quirk. Once the mushroom cloud of dust and smoke dissipates, you sit up with a stunned expression on your face. Midoriya on the other hand was filled to the brim with anxiety that he might have hurt you somewhere.

“Oh no. I messed up. That was close, I could have killed you, I’m so so so so sorr-” he begins to frantically rant, but you cut him off with a reassuring pat on the head.

“It’s okay, Izu-chan! I’m fine,” you shine with a grin that seems like the sight of an angel to him.

He exhales in relief. “Oh thank god.” On the other hand, he was slightly embarrassed that he had this encounter with you. But he was glad that you were the still the kind and forgiving person you’ve always been.

“That was so cool though, Izuku!” you squeal in excitement, making him turn a shade of pink. Bakugou sticks a finger in his mouth as he gags in disgust, but the two of you ignore him as you give Midoriya a big hug that nearly bursts the circuits in poor Midoriya’s heart.

“Seriously, get married already.”

I hope that this satisfied! These two beans are so precious….

Originally posted by todorokih

Originally posted by myakihito


Dear, anon… Something like this is to your liking, I hope.

Indeed, I hope.





Itachi knew his brother well.

At eighteen, Sasuke had yet to grow out of the habit of disliking everyone he met upon first meeting them. Most people either gave up on trying to be on good terms with Sasuke or were persistent enough to where Sasuke could tolerate them.

But…Sasuke disliked Hinata, and she was neither someone who cared to get into Sasuke’s good graces nor did she hide her contempt for his attitude towards her.

Neji was just as perplexed when it came to Hinata.

At seventeen, Hinata had no true enemies despite the superficial ones acquired by being a Leaf shinobi. It took him a while to realize that her indifference towards Sasuke was actually genuine coldness towards him.

Neji wouldn’t have cared, but even he had to admit that out of all the enemies she could have had, Sasuke Uchiha was not a wise choice. He honestly had no clue what could have happened between the two to make them dislike each other so strongly.

So, from one brother figure to the next, Itachi and Neji decided to settle the issue once and for all.

“What is this?”

Sasuke stood at Itachi’s side at the entrance of the Training Grounds. On the other side, he could see Neji and Hinata situated under a tree. The two had been talking, but once Hinata heard Sasuke’s voice, she turned towards the Uchihas, wide eyed then stone faced.

“Hear us out,” Itachi said as he urged Sasuke towards the Hyuugas.

“What is this?” Sasuke demanded again, glaring hard at the Hyuugas.

Or perhaps the one deeming the trees more worthy of her glare than the youngest Uchiha.

When the two pairs were face to face, Neji and Itachi wondered if they were making the right choice. The tension between Sasuke and Hinata was so thick, it was amazing either of them still remained where they were instead of storming off or attacking each other.

Neji cleared his throat. “Hinata, it has come to my attention that you are not particularly fond of Sasuke.”

Hinata looked at Neji slowly, her stone expression unchanging.

“And, Sasuke,” Itachi said, “for whatever reason, Hinata seems to irritate you more than most.”

Sasuke glared at him, fists clenched at his sides.

“With that being said,” Itachi went on, “Neji and I have concluded that whatever unresolved issues you both have should be settled. We think a spar is in order.”

Sasuke stared at Itachi for a long minute. “What?”

“You two should spar,” Itachi said.

“We’ll supervise,” Neji said. “We think both of you are past the point to talk through whatever animosity it is that has both of you so cold towards each other.”

“And you’ve never actually sparred with each other without interference,” Itachi said. “We promise to not intervene unless it becomes life-threatening.”

Hinata and Sasuke didn’t say anything. They stared at their respective family member for a thick moment before turning their stern stares on one another.

“Fine,” Hinata said, pulling out a hair tie and tying her hair back.

Sasuke waited a moment before pulling out a headband to hold his bangs back.

After Hinata threw her jacket to the side, she and Sasuke walked to the center of the field in silence. Neji and Itachi watched from underneath the tree with the sickening feeling that they had both made a mistake.

And then Hinata and Sasuke clashed before either Itachi or Neji knew what was happening. Chakra sprayed and metal collided, each attack strong enough to be felt on the edge of the field. In a blur, Sasuke and Hinata were savagely engaged in hand-to-hand combat, making both Itachi and Neji cringe when an attack landed successfully.

“Maybe we should stop them,” Neji said.

Sasuke’s foot narrowly missed shattering Hinata’s hip.

“It’s not life-threatening,” Itachi said.

Hinata sent a forceful jab of chakra intended for Sasuke’s shoulder cratering into a tree on the opposite side of the field.

The two kept this up for another minute before Hinata unexpectedly turned heel and ran into the thicket of trees. Sasuke hesitated a second before giving chase, catching up with her quickly. They disappeared into the trees, but soon after, destructive crashes and ground-shaking booms filled the air.

Neji and Itachi stared in stunned horror as the sounds continued.

Then the sounds stopped.

Neji and Itachi shared a worried glance before darting across the field. Before they entered the trees, Hinata screamed, sending the two into a new wave of speed and worry. They followed the mess of splintered tree trunks and torn bushes until they could hear the two up ahead.

“I’m tired of this,” Sasuke panted hoarsely. ‘I’m tired of you.”

“I can’t take this,” Hinata whispered miserably.

Neji and Itachi finally got Sasuke and Hinata in their sights but stopped abruptly feet away from them.

Sasuke had Hinata pinned to the ground, holding her hands firmly above her head. He was in between Hinata’s legs, but it appeared as though Hinata was keeping him there, whether or not it was to keep him from coming closer or getting farther away was unclear. The bruises and torn clothing could easily be explained away by the sparring, but every so often Sasuke’s hips would press into Hinata, causing her back to arch, causing an unintelligible groan.

“I can’t take it.” Hinata freed one of her hands and tugged at the top of Sasuke’s pants. “I can’t wait.”

Sasuke leaned his head back, taking a deep breath, shuddering. “Fuck it.”

Itachi snatched Neji away before they could see any more. The two walked back in silence, ignoring any sounds they heard, and didn’t stop walking until they were out of the Training Grounds all together and back on the main road. They stood in a stupor, their minds unfortunately working very well, and tried to beat down and sort through all the events that led up to this point.

In mutual agreement and silence, they located a bench and sat down. Itachi was the first to speak.

“How long have they-”

“I have no idea,” Neji said mechanically.

“I didn’t even know-”

“Me either.”

“I thought-”

“Me, too.”

Another long silence.

“At least they don’t hate each other,” Itachi said resignedly.

Neji laughed.

A lil Manorian fic

Fun fact: when I have writer’s block I write random shit for the ships I adore. If you would like to see more, I have a masterlist you can look at, wither way I hope you enjoy this!


Dorian trudged up the steep hill, the mud so deep and thick that it fell into his calf high boots and drowned his feet. He may as well abandon his shoes at this point, they were certainly doing him no good. He wiped the beads of sweat off his forehead, his whole body overwhelmingly hot despite the cold winds, and pushed his legs harder. His strength was wavering, but he had to make it back to her.

He let the stars guide and distract him, pinpointing specific constellations that reminded him so much of home that he forgot where he really was. He saw Mala’s Trail and thought of when as boys, he and Chaol would hide from their tutors in tall trees and throw acorns at nobles as passed under. He gazed at Annieth’s Sword and Belt and remembered the night he had kissed Celaena – no, Aelin – under the cover of darkness. He peered at the Circle of Seven, and thought of Sorscha and how she would gently rap his wounds with her delicate fingers. He looked for the Crown, but stopped. He wasn’t ready to think about the fate of his mother Georgina or his brother Hollin. Lastly, as he came to bridge of the hill, he saw the twinkling stars that made up the Wings of the Wyvern. As a young boy, his father had let him sit in his lap and would tell him many a story about the creature on their crest.

But his father was dead now, and seeing the lights that outlined the shape of monstrous wings in the sky made him think of something else entirely.

“Can you hurry up?” Asterin snorted as she came to meet him at the top of the hill. She was in just as filthy a state as he was, and he was glad he wasn’t the only one covered in dirt and Gods know what else. Asterin, however, had not been given the task to collect foods and test out magic while she did so, so she was still far livelier than he was.

“I’ll take your advice under consideration.”

Asterin rolled her eyes and held out her hands to one of the menschen sacks he was holding. “It would be best for you to put your charm to use, she’s awfully testy at the moment. The scratch on Abraxos’ hide has yet to heal.”

Dorian furrowed his eyebrows in concern, not for Abraxos who he knew would be perfectly fine, but for the Queen who would run herself into the ground without a second thought if it meant protecting the ones she loves.  

Dorian didn’t reply, just continued his hike to the Thirteen’s camp.

All the women were there, snuggled in close to their Wyverns to keep warm. They had risked a small fire, the stormy grey clouds and searing winds covering any hint of smoke, but it was still freezing. Dorian’s bones were aching from every effort to move, even if the full force of the storm upon them hadn’t hit him yet. He wished he knew how to control his magic so he might warm them all up, but he wasn’t Aelin or her fae prince.

Anyone could spot Manon. Her white hair was loose and she was pacing back and forth furiously. She was muttering to Abraxos as his eyes lazily followed her every step, occasionally huffing or whining. It was rather comical to watch, but from the sneer on her face Dorian predicted that if he pointed it out he might lose his eyes.

“Witchling,” he called gently instead.

“Where have you been?” She snapped. The tone she used cut through any warmth his body had mustered from his walk, slicing him open and letting the bitter cold have its way with him.

“I was looking for food and practising my magic, just as you suggested.” His voice was placating, like he was talking to a wild hound. He even spread his hands out in a gesture of peace.

“That was eighthours ago.”

“Why does it matter, Witchling?”

“Because how are we supposed to kill an ageless king and his evil spawn if you can’t stay put for a day, Princeling?” She battered her eyelashes at him but her smile was nothing short of savage. If Dorian didn’t know better, he’d say Manon had been worried about him.

They hadn’t had sex since that night on the boat, and excluding a few grazing touches and distracting flirtation, no situation had come even remotely close. It might have, if they hadn’t been surrounded by witches and wyverns. Dorian could not deny his body’s reaction at the thought of her scarred skin under his hands and tongue, but for the first time in his life, a woman could not seem to be less interested in him.  

He looked away and didn’t say anything, instead dumping his findings for the day near the flickering fire. He sat down took off his shoes and socks, wiggling his toes over the flames to dry the mud and warm his feet. The Thirteen, who had been curiously watching his interactions with Manon, went back to doing their own thing: talking, reading, planning, scheming.

He let his mind wander back to the constellations, and before long a body gracefully sat next to his. He didn’t turn to look. The witches around him started wondering to their bedrolls, all tucked under the mighty wings of their wyverns, and quickly feel asleep. Not knowing know the next moment you’ll get rest makes it easy to fall on command.

“I was worried when you didn’t come back.” Manon whispered.


“Because you’re mortal and fragile.”

Dorian snorted and turned further away from her. “Good to hear.”

Dorian decided to lay down then and there. He was exhausted from the day’s events, and to keep warm he couldn’t stray from the fire. He had settled in a semi-comfortable position, ready for the day to be officially over. Tomorrow was the day they flew to Crochan land, a last resort to find allies. And when he said they, he wasn’t including himself. He had done as much as he could and now it was time to reunite with this brother Chaol, down safe in the south.  

He needed his best friend more than ever right now. Dorian had never felt so conflicted in his life. He knew he should not feel for Manon the way he should, it had always been about a release for them, but he couldn’t help the way his breath hitched when her eyes glittered as the sun rose, or the goose-bumps that lined his flesh whenever he heard her raspy voice. More than anything, his chest ached with guilt. When he looked at Manon, he forgot about everything else: Adarlan, the war, Sorscha…

How could Dorian fall so quickly in love, again?

Dorian knew Manon was still next to him, could hear her breathing, could sense her intoxicating body. When she laid a hand on his arm, a zip of energy raced to his heart and spread to the rest of his body, making him shudder. This had happened before. What hadn’t happened was her standing up and stepping over his body, just so she could curl in front of him. She put one hand on his face, and closed her eyes.

“You aren’t fragile.” She said through gritted teeth. “You are brave, and strong, and the king this cursed continent needs. I just can’t bear the thought of you being anywhere but by my side.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this before we all decided it would be best I leave?” He risked a hand to her waist, and at his touch she moved closer to him so their bodies were pressed together.

“Because you are kind, and I detest the thought that my brutality will mar that. I am not ashamed of who I am, but it scares me that one day you could be.” It was the most candid and sincere she had ever been, and it made his eyes sting.

“That will never happen, but either way I have to leave tomorrow.” He told her. It was the truth, his time with this coven was over.

“Even if I asked you to stay?” She tangled her legs with his.

“We’ll reunite again, someday.” Dorian knew not when that would be, whether in this life or another, but the queen in front of him would not easily escape his grasp.

Manon opened her mouth to say something else, but was interrupted by an earth-shaking boom as Abraxos planted himself next to them, the gust from the wyvern’s movement blowing out the fleeting fire. He wrapped his wings around the king and queen, and wiggled until comfortable. Dorian didn’t know from childhood stories that wyverns snored, but oh how Abraxos certainly did.

“Good night, Witchling.”

Manon leaned forward and pressed a hesitant kiss to his lips. “Good night, Princeling.”  

We Intertwined: Ch. 6

An Ignis Scientia Story

Chapter 5 | AO3 | Chapter 7
Word Count: 1,676

A/N: Let me know what you think of this one! Tagging some friends, @chocobro-daydreams @mistressoli @teneniel @iinkpools @chocobrodreamteam @ladyscientia @cupnoodle-queen @itshaejinju @themissimmortal

Ignis realized he was pacing, but his legs wouldn’t stop. He was still outside of the campsite, marching in tight circles so quickly that the grass was starting to erode under the red soles of his shoes. His feet protested, but he couldn’t stop his panicked canter.

Keep reading

From within the Wall

You’re a citizen of Insomnia, and you’re eight years old at Regis’s coronation. They put the ring on his finger and the crown on his head and say a few words and that’s that.

But… you’ve always been told that the crowning ceremony is a public affair for a reason. A prince needs to be judged by the Lucii in full view of the people he’s going to serve as king. If a prince is deemed unworthy, his last moments of life should also be tinged with the humiliation of knowing he’s failed his citizens - as if being burned alive isn’t bad enough.

So because you’re young, and because the image of a person lighting on fire is so vivid in your mind… you’re almost disappointed when nothing happens to Regis.

Some years later, you learn in school that the true crowning ceremony - when a prince puts on the ring for the first time and is judged - became a private matter generations of kings ago, because the possibility of a prince burning to death in public was so grotesque they discontinued the practice. It’s only princes that are already kings in the eyes of the Lucii that perform at a public show.

You feel both relieved and a little bit cheated at the revelation.

You’re the artist commissioned to paint a royal portrait of King Regis and Prince Noctis.

Regis is in his late thirties, Noctis is just under ten. It’s a fairly standard pose - the prince is sitting on an armchair and the king is standing beside him - though you’re slightly worried about having a child sit for you. Children aren’t good subjects because they generally can’t hold still for long enough.

But when you begin you’re surprised to discover that Regis is the one who fidgets. His majesty is always looking away, tapping his feet, and every time someone walks past the door Regis’s gazes out expectantly. Noctis, on the other hand, sits with his tiny hands folded in his lap and is perfectly still, like a little doll. Even professional life models aren’t this good.

You’ve barely got a sketch down before a suit rushes in, mutters a bit to the frowning King. Regis excuses himself hurriedly and promises to be back soon, then leaves the room with the suit. Noctis, meanwhile, is still sitting there contently… so you tell him he can relax, and then compliment him on how good he’s being.

Noctis shrugs at you, and continues to sit in the giant armchair they set for him. Swings the legs that don’t touch the floor and says, ‘I’m happy to be with dad. This is the longest we’ve been in the same room together for ages.’

You and the prince talk about school and his favourite cartoons and eventually the suit returns to apologise, saying Regis won’t be available for the rest of the session. You’re somewhat disappointed. Noctis looks completely unsurprised as they lead him away.

You live in an apartment in the city’s center. You can see the citadel and Parliament House from your balcony.

The heart of Insomnia is always bustling… it’s the business district, after all. High rises, shopping malls, restaurants, museums and galleries. There are always a variety of people everywhere.

Among all the glamour is also a lot of homeless. You can’t go two blocks without coming across one. At one stage a large group camped outside the main train station close to the citadel and hindered pedestrian traffic. The City Guard were involved. You’re not sure what happened after that, but they’re not there anymore. There is scaffolding where they once placed their huddles of blankets, now preventing them access.

There’s a historic library close to you and its front lawn is always the hub of protests and rallies. Recently, with the escalating violence in the Lucian territories, there are many more rallies about helping refugees. A few streets down from your apartment there’s a cathedral dedicated to the Six, and a large banner’s been hanging from the side wall for years - a photo of a little Galahdian girl looking over her mother’s shoulder, above the words 'LET’S FULLY WELCOME REFUGEES’.

You walk past a rally one day on your way from work, and catch a snippet of conversation: two men walking alongside you, skirting the action, one scoffing to the other and saying - 'we can’t even get our own people homes, and the king wants to bring in more refugees?’

You keep your head down, and keep walking. You’re not sure what to think. You never are.

There’s always talk of war on the news. War in the territories, war in Accordo, civil conflicts in Niflheim. Fighting everywhere. But life inside the Wall is all you’ve known and all this violence on the outside is a degree removed. It saddens you but doesn’t touch you personally.

One day, out of the blue, there’s an emergency broadcast, telling citizens to go into shelters, because a Niflheim fleet on the border is primed to attack.

You don’t quite know what to make of this. You and your coworkers even joke about it a little on your way down to the bunkers, which were built when Insomnia was established but have never been used in your lifetime. You’re all pretty tense but the idea of being under attack is still fairly abstract.

You’re there for an hour, then two. You talk, play cards, fret and complain. There’s no wifi and barely any mobile reception.

And nothing happens. You wait and wait. Every half hour there’s a broadcast warning you to stay inside until instructed otherwise.

Then, suddenly, there’s a massive BOOM that shakes the dust from the walls. It repeats in quick succession - BOOM BOOM BOOM! - and the ground quakes beneath your feet. All of you drop, and most of you scream. A few people begin to cry, but you don’t hear anything except the thunderous explosive sounds until they stop.

This goes on for only a few minutes - it feels like hours - and then everything is deathly silent.

The next broadcast comes ten minutes later, telling you it’s safe. Everyone is shaken but everyone is fine. You emerge into the city and the whole place is eerily… unchanged. No damage whatsoever. With the terror in the air it feels like the world should’ve ended, but nothing’s even out of place.

The Wall has protected you. The Wall that’s been overhead for as long as you’ve known - the barely visible shimmer on the horizon you don’t even register on a day to day basis - has saved your life.

Some time later, videos start appearing online, uploaded by people who for whatever reason weren’t underground, and were around when the fleet attacked. You watch clip after clip of what seems like liquid fire splattering across the sky in streaks as the bombs hit, in awe. The effect is devastating, but also kind of beautiful… A small part of you wishes you’d been brave enough to have stayed on the surface too, to witness it happening.

Welcome To Hell (BTS)

Chapter 1. - The Crime


Heaven/Hell AU, Seven Deadly Sins


Seven deadly sins, as mortals prefer to call them.
They are seven royal demons, Lucifer’s favorites, who’s task hasn’t changed from the very beginning of time; they were supposed to make sure the Devil takes over the human race and infiltrate the Heavens.
One time Envy made it inside and spread chaos around His quarters.
One of male angels all of a sudden became so jealous of other’s position he killed him without hesitation, leaving only evidence pointing at an innocent female angel, who’s only sin ever was harmless jealousy.
Her wings were torn off and she herself thrown into Lucifer’s lair with no way out.

Pairings: Literally everyone x my female OC, prepare for orgies later on

Word Count in this chapter: 981

Keep reading

Hog the Covers

Read on AO3


This was written a long time ago and I’m not re-reading it before I post it, so good luck.

Isak hogs the covers.

He claims it’s because he’s spent all his life sleeping alone, but Even doesn’t understand that argument because, up until Isak, he usually slept alone too.

Even from the first day they shared a bed, Isak hogged the blankets, and continues to do it to this very day. It didn’t matter if it was in the Kollektivet, Even’s parents’ house, or their own apartment. It always ends up happening.

And Even has had enough of it.

He does find it cute on some level, because he wakes up to Isak burrowed tight into a cocoon of blankets, but it doesn’t mean that he doesn’t freeze his ass of. Every. Single. Night.

Even has brought it up on multiple occasions, from making casual teasing jokes to “Seriously. I have to have some warmth. You don’t want me dying of hypothermia in my sleep”. But every time, no matter what the occasion, Isak brushes it off like a joke, or just as teasingly denies he does it.

Even has tried everything. He’s let Isak take all the covers and then pulled out a new blanket just for himself. Miraculously, in the morning, it’s added to the pile of blue and brown bedding that’s burrito-ed around the younger boy in the morning.

He’s tried lying half on top of the covers so that Isak doesn’t even have enough to grasp onto when he rolls over, but somehow, he almost consciously keeps tugging the blankets until they break free and envelop him in a pocket of warmth.

He’s bought them a new blanket, one that’s bigger then their whole bed. He figures that even if it makes its way over to Isak’s duvet castle, some of it will hang off enough that he can climb underneath it. But that didn’t work either. The blanket still manages to get itself wrapped around Isak twice over.

He’s even considered pulling a Malcolm in the Middle and sewing his t - shirt to the duvet.

Even can’t live like this any longer.

So, naturally, being the King of Extra, Even plans a stakeout.

He goes through the normal bedtime routine. They strip to their underwear, Even leaving his white cotton t-shirt on, they brush their teeth together, and climb under the covers. Isak lies on his stomach with his head facing Even. Even lies on his side, and soon enough, Isak drifts off into a peaceful sleep. Even, on the other hand, has only closed his eyes for a few minutes. When he is sure Isak is asleep, he reaches over onto their dresser and grabs the little pad of paper and pen, sketching to keep his mind occupied for a while.

He’s filled up a few small square pages with random doodles when inevitably, Isak rolls over, yanking the blue and brown striped bedspread with him. Even glances at the clock: 1:21. He scribbles the time stamp in the margins of his doodle paper for safe keeping. Then, not being too worried about waking Isak up (because let’s be honest, that kid sleeps like a rock), Even returns the paper to it’s place on the nightstand, flopping back down somewhat violently onto their mattress. He grabs the extra blanket he hid under the bed in preparation and snuggles into it, knowing fully that it will end up on Isak’s side of the bed in the morning, but not really giving a fuck either way. It only takes about 5 minutes for him to fall asleep.

The next morning, things go normally. Isak wakes up while Even is padding around in the kitchen making eggs. They greet each other with a “halla” and a quick peck to the lips. Isak knows there’s something different with Even today. They’ve been together long enough now that Isak notices the slight bags under his eyes, and he can recognize all the little idiosyncrasies Even has when something’s wrong. And while it doesn’t necessarily seem like there is anything wrong, Isak knows he’s up to something.

The next night Even does the same things, just to be sure the times are consistent. That night, Isak rolls over at 1:36.

The third night, things go more or less the same. Isak falls asleep and Even kinda pretends to be. But tonight, Even has his phone in hand instead of pen and paper. He swipes the brightness all the way down, keeping an eye on the time as he scrolls through Pinterest looking for more DIY projects for the apartment.

It’s around 1:15 that he sits up a little, closing Pinterest and opening a new app in place: Snapchat.

He only downloaded it about a month ago. Or rather, Magnus took his phone and downloaded it one Friday when he was too tipsy to really think much of it. Because Magnus was the one who set it up for him, the only people he had as friends were the Boy Squad, Girl Squad, Balloon Squad, and Kollektivet and friends (plus his mom, because she’s woke af). He didn’t use it that much. If he was bored he’d check to see what everyone was up to.

Anyway, the point is that he only used it occasionally to talk to people one on one, and he never posted anything on his story. So, it’s 1:15 and he has Snapchat open and night mode on, ready to catch the blanket hog in action. He sits there until 1:29 when Isak does roll over, and holds his thumb over the bubble at the bottom of the screen and waits for the red circle to close as Isak tosses and wraps all the covers and the whole duvet around himself. Even lets the video time out to ten seconds, puts a filter on it to make it a little brighter, and saves it to his memories.

The next morning as Isak rolls out of bed and is getting ready for school, he hears Even address him from the next room over.

“You know, you stole all the covers again last night.” Isak snaps his head over to he direction of the kitchen from where he is at the table.

“Nei, I did not.” He replies, his voice laced with childishness. Even returns from the kitchen with his tea mug in hand and sits down across from him.

“Ja, you did. You do every night. I freeze to death every morning, and you don’t even care. You need to do something about it”, Even says kind of smugly, raising his eyebrows as he sips his tea.

Whatever”, Isak says in English while narrowing his eyes. “You’re just sensitive”, he adds mockingly.

“You are aware that you have all the sheets wrapped around you when you wake up, right?” Even already knows he’s won this argument.

“I- but- that’s just- whatever”, Isak sputters lamely.

Even nods in a way that seems like he just confirmed plans with a friend. Now Isak knows he’s up to something.

Later that day, Isak, Even, and the rest of the Boy Squad are sitting around the courtyard chatting and eating lunch.

Jonas is retelling some anecdote about something embarrassing that happened to Magnus at a party on Saturday, Madhi occasionally interjecting a noise or a line to add the dramatic retelling. Magnus, meanwhile, sits by with a slowly reddening face as he sprinkles weak little “I did not”s and “That’s not how it happened”s through the story.

Eventually the whole conversation spirals into The Best and Worst of Magnus anecdotes, which then get weaved into The Best and Worst of Isak anecdotes, because Isak is the boy’s second choice of who to make fun of, Magnus claiming first of course. Jonas is currently reliving a story in which a girl in their elementary school class had a crush on Isak. Apparently, one day she tried to kiss him in the schoolyard, and he didn’t know how to deal with it, so he just kicked her in the shin and walked away. All the boys thought this was extremely comical, Magnus in particular, who unnecessarily points out, “It’s funny ‘cause now he’s with a boy now!” Even finds this whole story pretty hilarious and will definitely tease him endlessly about it later, but he has more pressing matters to attend to right now.

“Have I told you guys about Isak hogging all the blankets during the night?” Isak is immediately rolling his eyes, shaking his head, and saying, “Not this again, Even. You’re so dramatic.” All the boys turn to Even, Magnus’ mouth hanging open slightly, all of them silently asking are you gonna do anything about this?

Even just gives a little shrug and drops it. Its okay, because he has a plan for later.

Later that evening, Isak is lying on their bed scrolling through his phone while Even sits at the table, sketching. Isak liked Vilde’s latest post on Instagram, had scrolled through Facebook already, and was now checking Snapchat. Jonas posted a video of himself trying to film while skating, and ended up almost face planting. Eva posted a cute selfie of her and Penetrator Chris, Vilde posted a video of Chris talking about something weird and probably out of context, and Even posted- wait. Was he seeing this right? Even Even? Like, the Even he was dating that refused to post anything ever on his story Even? He clicks on Even’s name.

Over the top of his sketchbook Even sees Isak jolt upright right before screeching an ear piercing, “EVEN! HVA FAEN!? HOW COULD YOU!?” Isak doesn’t wait for an answer before he’s springing up and crossing the room to Even, who is currently tipped back in his chair resting on its back legs and laughing his ass off.

“GIVE ME YOUR PHONE”, Isak demands, and Even hands it over with a few more dissipating giggles. Isak opens the Snapchat app, pressing the three little dots on the right of the screen next to the My Story banner.  He scrolls down and presses on the video captioned “I told you, gutta”.Upon reading who all has viewed the video (Jonas, Yousef, Madhi, Mamma <3, Mikael, Adam, Noora, Magnus, Elias, Eva, Sana, Mutta, Eskild, Linn, Vilde, and Chris. So basically, everyone that mattered), Isak lets loose another sting of profanities while slamming his fists into Even’s chest and whining at the loudest possible decibel. Even is back to shaking with booming laughter while weakly trying to calm Isak down.

Needless to say, Isak will definitely get him back for this.


I don’t know if I want to continue these. We’ll see.