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fakedarkangel  asked:

Hey there! Me again, I know, a plague :) Can we have some insecure! NoctNyx sex? like maybe first time and Nyx's all ready and stuff but Noctis' really awkward and has never done this so he isn't ready but doesn't want to disappoint Nyx? I live for uncomfortable or sad Noct being loved :p Either way, I love your stories, and also the other's guys too :) You are awesome =)

turned out a little differently than might be-fit your request, but i hope it’ll suffice! nsfw everybody.

Nyx loved this. He loved Noct, he was practically sure of it. They hadn’t talked about it much. Hadn’t really said it to each other yet. But Nyx felt with the prince something he hadn’t felt before with anyone else. A deep ache that wanted to reach out and pull Noctis inside to protect him from everything. The desire had extended so far beyond his duties as Kingsglaive. He wanted to warp head-first between Noct and danger with daggers bared, as well as just wrap him up in his arms like this.

Have him shut inside his apartment with the lively district chatter bubbling through the windows. Pressed down on his couch beneath him, making the cushions moan to match the sounds trapped in his throat. Long, careful kisses to melt down his barriers, open him up, invite Nyx in to make him feel safe and belonged and wanted.

Nyx was patient with him. Knew how hard it was for Noctis to trust, to give himself over completely. The prince was difficult to resist – with that soft hair that felt so good to tangle his hands through; that smooth skin which Noctis had allowed him small teases of to brush fingertips across; the way he bit his lip when Nyx ventured to whisper something in his ear. And those eyes like underwater street-lamps; submerged passages to mysteries Nyx wanted to get forever lost uncovering.

But Noct was worth waiting for. Worth the stumbled “no”s whenever Nyx asked. He was worth the nervous, needy hooks of fingers in Nyx’s shirt. Like he was afraid the rejection would chase him away forever. But Noct’s fear only drew Nyx closer. Fueled his want to protect him from that terror of being abandoned for saying “no.” If he was being honest, Nyx was starting to like the “no”s. He liked wanting to prove to Noctis that he could say anything and Nyx would adore him all the more for any of it. That he could be his truest, most honest self and Nyx would only pull him closer for it.

He’d gotten so used to “no” that Nyx didn’t expect the deep, breathy sigh of “yes.” He drew back from where he was lavishing kisses along Noct’s neck, hands braced against the couch on either side of the prince’s head. Noctis blinked up at him, eyes glittering, lips pink and parted and forcing Nyx to swallow down his hunger long enough to ask again.

“You sure?”

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Kaz had far bigger things to worry about than coping with the space left by the Wraith’s absence…and the cat taking up residence on his (the Wraith’s) windowsill.

Kaz drummed his fingers across the table, face turned to the closed door of his room and gloves tucked in the breast pocket of his suit jacket. Beyond the walls, the sound of Ketterdam’s obnoxious and oblivious inhabitants boiled and bubbled through the cracked window behind him. Despite winter staking claim on the wet, stone streets, Ketterdam still bustled and business boomed. Not even the moon showed its face but The Crow’s Nest knew not of curfews or stillness.

Before him lay papers and documents for his latest move and most importantly, security against the Tide Makers. The musings were hardly fleshed out but Kaz recognized the beginnings of a masterpiece and could feel the momentum gaining as he followed the threads meticulously. Months had passed since the dethroning of Pekka Rollins and Van Eck but the Bastard of the Barrel knew peace to be two things: fictitious and ephemeral. A bomb with a slow-burning fuse. Contrived only by children and naive city-dwellers that never wandered near dark alleys or gambling dens, peace was a deceitful tale only achieved by those deliriously rich.

Kaz Brekker, however rich he had become, was not delirious and was especially not naive. His days in the streets had made sure of such and it was a lesson he’d hold onto no matter if his hands bled or leg crumbled. Though the Barrel sometimes fell quiet, it never stilled, so neither would he.

An abrupt sound he could’ve only described as plucking diverted his attention and sent a jolt through him that set his spine straight. Kaz twisted his head to look across his shoulder; one hand reached out to his cane at the end of the table and the other for his gloves, and then promptly froze.

There, reaching as far as the windowsill allowed, lay a black cat exaggeratedly stretching its limbs and plucking the side of the window with long white claws. It froze in place, all four sets of claws dug deep and just as alert and wary as Kaz himself. If it weren’t for the small patch of white fur on its chest and the deep, wide amber eyes, it could slip into the shadows as neatly as the Wraith herself. So still and barely visible against the dark sky, tiny wisps of silver and gray were the only indication Kaz had that the creature was not, in fact, his eyes playing tricks.

Neither looked away, primed and waiting for a move to be made, for the other to relent.  

Finally, Kaz released the head of his cane and let it and himself relax but firmly held the feline’s fixed gaze. In return, it loosened its shoulders and retracted all four sets of claws. After a breath, it slowly blinked once then rose to lazily saunter out into the dark night as quietly as it had come.

It took a long moment before Kaz could look away from the open window, the whispers of a memory echoing in his head. I can help you. With an indulgent shrug of the shoulder, he stood and crossed the room to watch its descent but closed the window instead. Peering through the glass suspiciously for a bare moment, he almost thought to reply but let the words die on his tongue. You can’t help me.

The next time the Barrel King spotted the feline, the tip of a tail disappeared past the top of the window and several days after that, Kaz glimpsed two glowing eyes atop the roof as he left for the docks. It was then, though he never spoke it aloud, that he decided to give the vanishing cat a name: Ghoul.

On a night much colder and wetter, Kaz climbed the three flights of stairs leading to his room and tried to pay no mind to the clink of his cane on the steps or the click inside his knee.

Behind him, glasses and cups clattered as cheers carried across a room warmed by spirits and bodies and fires.

A room nearly fit to be an oven welcomed him when he finally entered, chasing away the chill in his bones then the short-lived relief quickly after.

He pulled the gloves off his hands, finger by finger, before setting them on the table and moving to crack the window just enough to grant reprieve from the heat. The moon presented itself in unashamed glory, painting twisted, silver squares across the bare floors and the cold air felt like liquid on his exposed knuckles.

He was nearly asleep, memories and plans turning over in his mind in a rapidly disintegrating order, when he heard a soft thud followed by a scraping sound not unlike the one he heard a few weeks before.

This time, Kaz didn’t flinch or sit up to face the infiltrator. Instead, he just turned his head slightly and caught it half under the window, reaching in as far as it could to pluck and dig while watching Kaz cautiously.

Kaz waited a breath and returned to his original position, occasionally paying attention out of the corner of his eye. He thought about ushering it away and shutting the window to sleep in solitude until it sprawled along the length of the windowsill, half-in and half-out. Kaz lie there, watching out of the corner of his eyes as its ears twitched and twisted at every sound up till they didn’t. Only then did he fall asleep to dreams of phantoms and rolling waters.

He tried to convince himself the dreams had nothing to do with the Wraith – none, whatsoever – and he damn near believed it until his breath caught when he heard a soft thud at his window and found a pair of round, gold eyes studying him on the other side.  He resigned to keeping the window propped open at night to prevent false starts and hopes.

He woke alone one morning to a mouse, ears perfectly round and eyes frozen wide, dead on the floor next to his bed. Peeved, he tossed it out the window and began to envision the many different ways he could kill the cat as he started his day.

Kaz still cracked the window every night.

Three times he caught himself leaving out strips of meat and he even found himself leaning over to scratch its chin on occasion. Twice were done with a gloved hand and not without consequence. Ghoul had turned his head and bit down, claws curling deeply and securely into the leather until Kaz pulled him off by the scruff. After that, Kaz only reached out with bare palms to meet soft paws and purchased a long strip of fine leather as a replacement. Ghoul only ever lay atop it and he briefly contemplated throwing it away out of spite.

Nearly a month and several dead-offerings later, Kaz woke in the small hours of the night to the sensation of being watched. Against the furthest wall of the room, Ghoul sat half-crouched and ears low, waiting. Only its gaze wasn’t on him, it was on the window. Or, rather, through the window as a dark shadow overtook a corner and the smell of sea-spray and gunpowder sifted in. During the months since she’d left, she shed the scent of Ketterdam and adopted the scent of the ocean and her conquests. It didn’t matter, no matter if it was her voice, her smell, her – no matter what form she took, Kaz Brekker would always recognize Inej Ghafa, his kind, willowy Wraith.

Kaz rose and slowly crossed the room to lean against the table, watching as Inej lifted the window and slid in like a leaf drifting effortlessly down a stream. On his other side, Ghoul flattened and slunk lower into the shadows as she stepped into the room. Kaz only saw the delight swell in her smile as her eyes drifted to the furry phantom and only heard the intrusive of his heartbeat as it grew quicker, louder, heavier.

“Kaz Brekker,” she began lowly. “Are you going soft on me?” Even in the pale light of the slimming moon, Kaz could see that her skin was a slight shade darker, her knuckles and fingertips wearing more discolored lines than he remembered. Curiosity simmered in his chest and suddenly, he wished for something he couldn’t yet name, something he wasn’t yet ready to label. She grinned, a smile that reached her eyes and across the distance to his chest. The Wraith knelt on one knee and held out her palm, all in one gentle, fluid motion.

Kaz Brekker cast a look to the ceiling, as if asking the Saints the same question, before turning his attention down to the furry visitor. He considered telling her that he, Kaz “Dirtyhands” Brekker, leader of the Dregs, bastard of the barrel, did in fact have a soft spot for agile creatures that climbed through his window in the middle of the night but instead, he thought it best to just tell her the cat’s name. “Ghoul.”

A grin split across her face and Kaz could see the laughter in her eyes. She repeated him, as if tasting the name on her lips to see if it matched the shadow of fur in front of her. Tentatively “You must be my replacement,” she said, unmoving as he leaned forward to sniff her hand and test her patience. “I must warn you not to sneak up on Dirtyhands. Then again, you wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t already.” Her eyes lifted up to his, as dark and beautiful as Kaz remembered. Wisps of hair framed her face, strands falling loose from a messy braid tucked over one shoulder. He wasn’t sure when it had happened, but a smile had formed on his face so wide his lips threatened to show teeth.

“No bells,” he conceded with a gesturing nod to the curious fellow below and her head tilted at the answer. He extended a hand to her with a deep breath and shrugged the other shoulder, “less armor.”

Her grin shrunk into a soft smile that gave him a warm feeling in his chest larger and more overwhelming than almost everything he’d ever known. It consumed him nearly as quickly and powerfully as slipping back to the fateful day on the bay, but good. Like ice on bruised knuckles and hot water on sore limbs but it was more than just relief. He wanted to savor the feeling, live with it every day and never let it escape him or become corrupted. Slowly, Inej raised her palm to hover just above his, giving him the power to close the gap. Her voice echoed within him again and he let it ring through his bones like a promise. I will have you without armor, Kaz Brekker. Or I will not have you at all. For he conquered many enemies and won many battles in Ketterdam, Kaz Brekker had yet to conquer himself and the demons he could not shake. He readied himself for his hardest battle alongside his strongest ally, his confidante, his touchstone. He focused on the crease of her smile, the fullness of the blood flowing through him, and the way she held both her gaze and her hand steady; let it consume him with the fierce sensation of being alive.

He took a deep breath and lifted his hand meet Inej’s, ready for the next battle.

Fic: You With the Sad Eyes, Don’t be Discouraged

Here is my submission for the Olicity Hiatus Fic-a-thon organized by @thebookjumper. The theme this week was “eye contact.” This fic kind of took on a life of its own, so I hope you enjoy it! 

Read it on Ao3 or below. 

You With the Sad Eyes, Don’t be Discouraged

This was the most ridiculous and humiliating thing she had ever endured.

Felicity Smoak, master hacker and double major in business and computers was sitting in Introduction to Computers 101  - as a student. She had thought her advisor was joking when she told Felicity, a college senior, that Intro to Computers was a required course to graduate.

It didn’t matter if she had taken many more advanced courses and was a senior. Nope. She had to sit here and listen to someone who probably didn’t know the difference between Linux and Windows. Frak you Starling University.

Cooper would have teased her to no end over this. She felt a twinge of pain in her heart at the thought of her now-deceased boyfriend. He had been arrested for their hacking antics and then killed himself in prison. Felicity let the guilt of her involvement in the hacking consume her.

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YAYYYY another Dean original ^~^ also I just want to take a quick second and say THANK YOU to @mysteriouslyme81 for recommending my “Shopping Day” original in their “Supernatural February Recommendation Library 2017″ You guys should go check their blog out and the other recommendations listed there!

This original is you and Dean in high school and of course your dad doesn’t know about Dean and y’all’s relationship so he comes and visits occasionally. Gummies became life savers ~ constructive criticism encouraged ~ enjoy!

‘Tables have four legs but they cant walk.’

‘Dead people can still get goosebumps.’

‘If you were to remove all of the empty space from the atoms that make up every human on earth, the entire world population could fit into an apple.’

You were supposed to be asleep but all these thoughts; these truthfully odd riddling-facts were just whizzing around your mind. It was very similar to the five blades on the ceiling fan spinning around, blending to look like one.

‘Laughing while being tickled is actually a panic response from your body.’

Just thinking about it made you giggle to yourself. It was always seen as a normal reaction to some people but it was actually a distress call from your body. 

A series of taps echoed throughout your room. Your eyebrows furrowed as you laid still, to make sure you weren’t hearing things and to make sure if it was something, you could catch it off guard.

Another set of taps came through from the window. Well at least you weren’t going crazy.

You were swift onto your feet and on the wall, knife in hand. More taps were heard, a bit more frantically this time.

With a quick turn in front of the window, you tilted your head in confusion and then a hand over your own mouth to keep from waking your dad with laughter.

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This was meant to be part of a series that I abandoned and I really didn’t want to let this go so here it is

Jeon Jeongguk
Angst/Slight Smut

Moonlight kissed your cheeks, dusting them in cold light and specks of silver as it reflected off the glitter and that adorned your cheekbones. Your red lips parting in a laugh as it bubbled out of you, escaping into the air in precious swirls that interweaved with the icy mist that had seeped in through the crack in his window. A bubble of sound that created beauty and happiness with each note that you released, starting Jeongguk’s heart in a sprint that did not stop until you were long gone away from him. Hair of golden sun, that blew in the wind and ensnared Jeongguk every time you whipped your head around or when he had his fingers curled around the sunshine tendrils. Skin so soft and supple that it melted his free will whenever he brushed his fingers against yours or ran his hand down your bare arm, a weak man with a simple touch. And by far the worst; your eyes. Endless pools that he could get lost in and never return, the secrets that you shared held within, just swimming beneath the surface. All the stolen kisses you shared, hidden behind lashes that brushed his skin when you buried your head in his neck. Fluttering against his chest as you kissed your way down his body, fingers dragging down his side creating goosebumps along his flesh. Biting into the soft flesh of his neck causing him to arch his back from the mattress, moans slipping from his parted lips. The way he fell into you each and every time you muttered those three words. Three words that he so desperately wanted to hear, to feel, that when you said them he clung to them for dear life.

The poor boy at the age of nineteen had the heart of a child. A child who was desperately wishing for someone to hold him and tell him it would be okay.  That was supposed to be you. Cradling him at night as you whispered stories of life outside the four walls, how you could be free of pain and hurt together, to live in a way he didn’t think he could but by the time the sun crept over the horizon all chances of escape had left his mind.

 A darkness sunk in, a darkness even you weren’t prepared for. The type that comes with silence. Unrelenting in its grip, fingers wrapping around limbs and dragging down, ripping flesh and spilling blood, dripping from its pointed teeth with a death smile. Malice and hate oozing from every pore, disgusting and foul. The putrid stench in its wake as it crawls through houses ripping apart walls and finding the mushy insides to feast on. Talons creeping over the edge of doorways, clicking against the wood with heart-shaking tip taps before dragging its carcase across plush white carpets piercing the fresh cotton sheets, leaving the mattress in tatters with feathers floating through the air before finally making home under the bed, in the darkness in the very back corner where it sits and waits, steaming in its rancor.

It was this exact darkness that sat underneath your tongue. The poison you kept hidden from him, slipping out with each kiss against his skin or mouth, filling the open wounds until his blood ran cold and he slowly morphed into what he was running from but for you, he was willing. It was not your fault the boy fell for you, though you did wait with open arms. The second his lips touched yours on the rooftop you pulled away as if you had just touched an open flame. Your bottom lip tingling, at the touch of his thumb, as he pulled you back in. With hands flat against his chest, you pushed away hissing a warning but he paid no attention too instead he crawled over you, eyes set on your lips. His pupils were blown out, the pretty kind boy you had met on your first day no longer behind his lashes. In his place was a predator that was intending to devour you whole. You swiped your tongue over your bottom lip, flicking it up between your teeth and biting down until a faint trickle of blood filled your mouth. Jeongguk’s hands gripped at your waist, dragging you along the rough concrete until your hips were slotted nicely against his own.

“Jeongguk, we shouldn’t be doing this” Your voice was barely a whisper as you traced the veins in his forearms, distracted by the feel of his silky soft skin under yours.  He didn’t answer you with words instead he attached his mouth to your neck, sucking and biting the skin until you could feel the bruise forming. You should have said no, should have walked away but with his lips at your neck and hips grinding into yours all that came out of your mouth was yes.

ive always been afraid of growing up. it terrifies me that someday all the scary things that come along with adulthood will take over and ill stop trying to be happy. 20 has brought me so many grown up things that i didnt know how to handle like loss, love and change, but as long as i can blow bubbles out my apartment window, do donuts with my best friend in gravel parking lots, and spend my time with people who keep me happy and excited about life i’d say i’m doing okay. bring it on 21.


Hey guys, sorry for the lack of updates this week. My friends and I have been super working hard on this stop motion animation piece that is being projected on the walls of the Cubbon park metro station in Bangalore.

So here’s a bad gif from the video I took from my phone lol

Also thanks for all the follows! I’m seriously overwhelmed by the response I got for all my art!

Sleeping Noctis! That which started the fairy tale kick. This is the first scene/inciting event. This is not to be taken seriously and is thus a little cracky…a little. 

In which Ardyn goes tossing around curses and Regis doesn’t like his options.  

Once upon a time there was a king, who we shall call Regis. He was a good king, beloved by his people, known for his brave deeds, fair to all who crossed his path. He loved his people, he loved his land, he loved his queen and, when the time came, he loved his son as well. So much so that when his son was born he threw a great celebration, allowing people to come from far and wide to see and rejoice.

And so they came, humans, witches, wizards, the fey, and more.  Regis had made many friends in his youth and they all appeared, eager to bestow gifts unto the infant. The party was winding down and only five visitors, and their guests, remained to bless the young prince.

It was a bit arrogant and self indulgent, all told.

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