crawls back into the dark corner where i study for finals

exchanges (m)

Summary: In which Jeon Jungkook is that friendly neighborhood superhero, you’re the face in the hallway that saved his high school career, and he can’t ever seem to get a grip around you. Even when he makes you scream after a fated accident—not for the reason you may be thinking; get the thought out of your head! 
Pairing: Jungkook | Reader 
Genre: Fluff/Smut; Spiderman AU 
Word Count: 14,838
Author’s Note: Honestly though, it was only a matter of time before I got around to writing a story like this. I am obsessed with Spiderman, so this might just be the foundational guideline for many future Jungkook Spiderman AU drabbles to come in the future. 

The story was also heavily inspired by this photo that made me cry for seven days and seven nights. +photo credit !!!!!!!

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(the present)

If Jeon Jungkook is against anything in his life, it’s one’s ability to exaggerate certain situations or problems to make those things seem much bigger than they probably were. Well, actually, take that back. It’s not that he’s against it per say, it’s just that his peer’s daily struggles of pop quizzes and missing the morning bus aren’t exactly headliner news—especially in comparison to what he has to go through.

Jeon Jungkook is against exaggeration, probably because he can’t get away with it himself. It’s not that he doesn’t like to exchange his fair share of embellished stories or fabricated events weaved into true experiences, it’s that he can’t afford to do so. Sharing stories of his nightly routines and dashing superhero adventures may seem great, but only if he could manage the burden of a personal life and a masked life intertwining.

As an 18-year-old boy, he can probably say it’s safe to assume that he cannot. Manage the overwhelming, opposite pressure both of his lives take him, that is. It’s difficult enough being a college freshman, a tiny fish in an ocean of whales and sharks, but throw in his late night Spiderman facade would be too much of a tale to share with other people and peers who probably ask too many questions and know too much about him. He’s never liked the exposure that comes with being in the spotlight, and he can’t hide behind his mask if people knew who he was.

Oh. Right. Speaking of his Spiderman facade, that’s who is he. Haven’t heard of him? You know, the dashing hero of Seoul, red and blue spandex attire with a web shooter, fine tuned senses and amazingly quick reflexes? The boy who swings around the city, volunteering for trouble and always coming out right on top? The boy who constantly maintains that casual, slightly amused tone throughout a majority of his rescues?

Yeah, well, that’s Jungkook.

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GREY AREA. (M) 11

 And just like that, your fate was sealed - because Min Yoongi was absolutely going to destroy you. But hell, if you weren’t going to let him, or bask happily in the flames as he did so.

And sadly, at the time, you didn’t think that your thoughts would become so literal.


Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader
Word Count: 12,039 yikes!
Chapter Index
◇ Soulmate!Au, Slowburn, Angst



Over the short magnitude of time that Min Yoongi has been a part of your ever moving life – his decision or not, you have come to discover one thing about his complex character, and that is: when you think you have him figured out, he does something to throw your entire thought base off balance and send it spiraling into the depths of somewhere unknown.


This is what happens the following Monday when he ventures into your shared English Literature class.


Now, when you had told Jungkook to pass along your reply to Yoongi, you weren’t sure he had received it. Because you had yet to acquire a text message from him. That’s right, not a letter, word, sentence, or paragraph had you received. In fact, you were starting to wonder if Yoongi had indeed changed his mind regarding the friendship or not.


To be honest, it wouldn’t surprise you.


Because, after all, trying to guess when it came to Min Yoongi was trying to guess the weather. There was a fifteen percent chance that the New’s was correct and a seventy five percent chance that something irrational could happen and everything would change.

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late night confessions | Fred Weasley x reader

requested

Everywhere people laughed and danced. But not you. You were sitting in a corner of the room looking at all the happy faces. You had waited so long for Fred to ask you to the yule ball and now you had nobody.

“Cheer up y/n, I’m sure he had a good reason for not asking you.” George said as he plopped down into one of the empty seats and put a drink in front of you.

“Well I know one reason, he just doesn’t like me that way.” You had told yourself that a million times, but saying it out loud hurt more than you thought it would. George gave you a sympathetic look as he moved closer to wrap his arms around you.

“You know, I’m pretty tired. I think I’m just gonna go to bed.” Sighing you stood up and quickly left the great hall before George could protest.

You walked through the empty hallways, the clicking of your black heels against the cold floor being the only sound that’s heard.

Sliding down against the wall you wrapped your arms around your knees and finally let the tears fall. This was supposed to be a magical evening but instead you were walking alone in the dark. The silence got interrupted by rapid footsteps coming towards you. Your heart started beating faster, anxious to know who it was, until finally someone rounded the corner.

“Y/n? I’ve been looking everywhere for you, why’d you leave so – are you crying??” Fred asked as he walked closer.

“Fred just leave me alone.” More tears rolled down your cheeks as you turned away from him.

“I’m not leaving until you tell me.” He said, sitting down next to you. You sighed in defeat, you knew Fred wouldn’t give up.

“Why didn’t you ask me to the dance?” The worry on Fred’s face turned to shock.

“What?” He asked bewildered.

“I waited for you to ask me, but you never did.” You could feel your heartbeat in your throat, you couldn’t believe you were telling him this.

“Y/n,” he whispered as he cupped your cheek. “I thought you were going with George.” Now it was your turn to look puzzled.

“But why? Why would you think that.” You felt a hint of hope. Could it be? Could he really feel the same?

“You two are so close, and lately you’ve been spending so much time together. I just assumed something was going on.” Slowly you started leaning in until your face was only millimetres from his.

“You’re the only one I want, Fred.” You told him before you connected your lips. After all the years you waited, you were finally kissing the boy you had been in love with for so long. Tingles shot through your body, your stomach was making backflips.

His hands slowly slid down your body, staying to rest on your exposed thigh, before sliding under your dress.

“Fred,” you stopped him. “not here, what if someone walks by?” He laughed before picking you up bridal style and running to an unknown location.

“I think I know just the place.” He smirked.

By now you were on the seventh floor, he took a left before stopping in front of a large wall.

“Fred? What are we doing here?” You asked as he put you down.

“Just wait and see.” The words hadn’t even left his mouth when suddenly the wall began to change and a door became visible. Too perplexed to speak you just let him lead you inside.

You entered a large, but almost empty room. The only piece of furniture was a king sized bed, and from the ceiling hung a beautiful gold chandelier. After a few seconds of taking in your surroundings you found your voice again.

“Where are we? What is this place?” You asked, turning around to face the red haired boy.

“This, love, is the room of requirement. It’s also known as the come and go room or the place where everything is hidden,” he explained. “but now that we’ve cleared that up, how about we finish what we started?”

In a flash his lips were on yours again, and his shirt was already lost somewhere in the room. Your hands roamed his bare chest as he began sliding of your dress, leaving you in nothing but your panties. Your nipples instantly hardened when the cold air hit them. He picked you up as if you were a feather and lightly threw you on the bed.

When he climbed over you, the both of you just in your underwear, his demeanour changed. He softly caressed your cheek and tucked a lock of your h/c hair behind your ear. You gazed up in his beautiful brown eyes as he studied your face.

“You’re so beautiful, Y/n,” he said, his thumb moving over your lower lip. “so perfect. Are you sure you want to do this?” Your heart was beating loudly, so loud you were sure he could hear it and feel it thumping against his toned chest. Your palms were sweaty. Your knees weak and your arms heavy, you were sure you would have fallen down if you were still standing. Too nervous to talk you just nodded. You weren’t nervous because you weren’t sure you wanted this. You were nervous because you had wanted this for so long. But what if it’s not what you always dreamed of?

One of his hands slowly travelled down your body, before he hooked his fingers in the hem of your panties and pulled them down. You felt the soft material of your underwear softly slide down your legs as he began rubbing you.

“Please, Fred.” You begged, pulling at his belt. In an instant he ripped his trousers and boxers off. He slowly spread your legs as he crawled on top of you.

You gasped in pain when he entered you. Noticing your discomfort he stopped and waited for you to get used to his size while whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

“It’s okay, love. It’ll get better. I can stop if you want me to.” After a while the burning pain turned into pleasure.

“You can move now.” You assured him. The moment you said that he began thrusting into you, hitting different spots with every thrust. The room was filled with your moaning and panting.

His thumb rubbed circles on your clit as he sucked on your neck, leaving love bites everywhere he could.

“Fred, I’m close.” He pulled out and slammed into you from another angle, pulling your leg up so he had better access. Not able to handle this much pleasure your body began shaking and your eyes rolled back.

“Let go for me, baby, I’m right behind you.” He whispered against your neck. Soon you hit your climax as you felt Fred release his warm seed into you.

He rolled off of you, you were both panting as if you’d just ran a marathon.

“I love you, Y/n” He said, looking you in the eye while pulling you closer.

“I love you too, Fred.” You were right, it wasn’t what you always dreamed of. It was better.

I’m so sorry it took so long, I’ve been so busy lately but I’m back! I hope you like it, again sorry for making you wait.

Bristles [nsfw]

Pairing: Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader

Requested?: Nope, i am but a wee humble farmer tending to my fics all by myself

Summary: Lin. The beard. Smut ensues. Includes dirty talk, a tiny pinch of dom/sub dynamics and papi kink because that shit sets me on FIRE

Words: too! damn! many! im going to hell i swear to god

A/N: I swear to god this situation is the fucking reason why I started this blog in the first place

You lazily swung back and forth in your indoor hammock, attempting to read but repeatedly and distractedly casting an eye towards your boyfriend, who was draped over the couch and clacking at his laptop. The box air conditioning hummed at the window, the fans in the apartment whistled, and Lin sung underneath his breath.

“Mi reina, I know you’re staring again.” Lin spoke up across the room, smile evident in his voice.

You rolled your eyes, fanning yourself with the pages of your paperback, trying to fend off the summer heat. “Only because I’m bored.” you claimed.

Lin patted the cushion next to him on your plush grey couch, eyes focused on his laptop. “Come sit, I miss you.”

It was your turn for a smile to tug at the corner of your lips. “Lin, I’ve been sitting across the room from you this entire afternoon,” you spoke as you nestled against his shoulder.

Lin stuck his bottom lip out. “Yeah, but you’re wrapped up in that hammock and not in me!” His chin jutted out slightly with the action and your eyes were drawn to one of your favorite pieces that made up the puzzle of him.

You chuckled, reaching up to scratch at his beard with the pads of your fingertips, its stubbly flush of color on Lin’s tanned cheeks was always captivating to you for some reason. The texture was coarse, but just soft enough to make running your fingers along it like gliding along a bristle brush. It contrasted so beautifully with the smooth plumpness of his lips, kept soft with chapstick and frequent kisses from you. You slipped a thumb across his bottom lip, the slight scratch of his beard creating the perfect accompaniment to the velvet of his lips and warmth of his slight breath outwards. 

“Y/N?”

Lin’s voice pulled you out of your fixation.

“Huh?”

Lin’s face twisted into a cross between a smile and a delicious smirk. “Something got you distracted?”

Your eyes dropped to his lips as he spoke and you became painfully aware of how damp your panties had seemed to become in the span of mere minutes.

“Nothing,” you breathed, “just… hot.”

You’d unconsciously moved into Lin’s lap while studying his face, and only inches separated you from him.

“Oh? Is that so?”

You swallowed thickly, nodding, trying to keep some semblance of dignity.

Lin’s voice dropped as he spoke, “Well, I’m a bit distracted myself. You know why?”

Numbly, you shook your head slowly, bobbing slightly in his lap.

“I was just thinking that if I’m going to be hot, I’d rather have my face in the heat between your legs than the heat between your hands right now.”

Your breath hitched and Lin took the opportunity to close the gap between the two of you, pressing his lips firmly to yours, beard tickling at the soft skin of your face.

Lin pulled back, peppering kisses along your jawline, before whispering, “Let’s get you into the bedroom now, before I end up eating you out over the coffee table.”

He chuckled darkly at your wide eyes before leading you to your shared bedroom, where you splayed across cool white sheets. 

Lin’s fingers tickled at your shorts, teasing but not quite pulling them down enough for your liking as he pressed prickly kisses along your sides. “Now mi reina, you’ve just been teasing me all day and you don’t even know it. These short shorts combined with this heat? God, surprised I didn’t go crazy.”

You moaned, fisting a hand in Lin’s thick dark hair as he nipped at the skin of your hipbones. “You just look so delicious, so damn edible, lying in that hammock with your legs just draped…” Lin trailed off, finally sliding your shorts down your legs.

“And what’s this?” Lin’s eyes became even darker as he crawled up the bed to your chest, making eye contact. “No panties at all, naughty.”

“Too hot for any extra clothing,” you replied, pulling him in for a deep kiss after he pulled his shirt off.

He chuckled, slipping off your tank top. “Well if I’d known your perspective, we could’ve just walked around naked.”

“You wouldn’t be naked with all that hair on you.” you teased as you unclasped your bra and threw it in the general direction of your closet. 

“Please”, Lin replied, ghosting his lips and stubble across the curves of your chest. “You love the beard, I know it.”

You rolled your eyes, not wanting to be caught. “No I don’t.”

Lin smiled into your breasts. “Yes you do.” he continued to kiss everywhere but your nipples, which were peaked despite the heat and deperate for attention.

“Nope.”

“I think you do.”

“I think I don’t.”

“I bet I can make you admit it.”

“Nop- fuck!” you hissed as Lin’s mouth closed around your right nipple and his fingers simultaneously teased at the left, both leaving as quickly as they came. Your chest heaved, breaths heavy and brain flooded with need. “Fuck, fuck okay I admit it!”

Lin let out a cocktail of a chuckle mixed with a smirk before reattaching his skillfull tongue to your nipples, licking and sucking smoothly as the roughness of his beard provided sensual contrast. 

Lin…” you moaned.

He paused in his ministrations and looked up at you, quirking an eyebrow. “Sorry, what?”

You squirmed beneath his firm gaze as he hovered over your right nipple again, his warm breath teasing at the sensitive peak as he waited for the correct words to roll from your lips.

“Papi…” you breathed, and Lin immediately returned to smothering your breasts with attention, laving his tongue over the soft flesh before dragging it down your stomach. 

There, he pressed kisses around your belly button, simultaneously raising goosebumps with the feel of his beard as he whispered, “So beautiful, my love… perfect the way you are.” and continued his way, slowly, slowly, to where you wanted him most. 

Once there, Lin looked up and met your eyes with his searingly chocolate ones, smirking before inquiring, “How much do you want some attention, mi reina?”

You groaned, thrashing your hips slightly in annoyance, and Lin’s hands immediately shot up to press your supple body into the mattress, his eyes darkening.

“Careful, nena, I don’t want to have to punish you. Be a good girl.” He sank back into his previous position, face so close to your soaked slit that you could feel every exhale of air from his nose fan across your aching clit. “How much do you want me? How much do you need me, mi reina?”

“Fuck, please eat me out.”

“Hmm. Is your pussy needy for attention? Because I don’t think your begging is going to get it much of anything.”

“Papi, I’m already so wet, I just need to be lic-”

“Oh, you’re wet, now? Who are you wet for, nena?”

At Lin’s question, you nearly lost it with need. There was no one who’d ever been able to satisfy you as well as Lin ever had, and in that moment all you needed was his meticulous and thorough tongue lapping at your folds.

“God Papi, I’m only ever wet for you, all for you… please, please eat my pussy.” you groan out.

Lin immediately slid forward, burying his face into your heat, and you immediately fisted your hands into his dark hair. Careful, wet licks of his mouth from the bottom of your slit to the peak of your clit were intermixed with rapid circling with the tip of his skillful tongue around the tiny nub of nerves. 

And the beard. That goddamn beard. It tickled and scratched at your most sensitive area, providing the most beautiful of compliments to the soft sensation of Lin’s warm mouth. 

Noticing your increasing moans and whimpers, Lin carefully slipped two fingers inside, pumping them while he removed his mouth to tease, “Are you enjoying this, nena? Being such a good girl? Are you getting ready to cum?” His fingers pressed at that spot inside you that was - just so -, ramping up the pleasure that was already rolling over you in waves. You nodded your head vigorously, unable to help the desperate whimper that fell out of your mouth at his words.

Immediately upon your head nod, Lin removed his fingers from you and slid away, leaving you short of breath and pulling in a surprised gap at your lost orgasm.

“What the fuck?” you intoned with an exasperated whine as Lin slipped his two fingers into his mouth, enjoying your taste as a devilish smirk overtook his face.

He pulled them out with a pop and crawled back up the bed to you, pressing kisses to both of your cheeks before whispering at your lips, “I want you to cum while you’re full of me.”

Lin reached over to the bedside table that stored the small box of condoms, ripped open a silvery package and slowly rolled a rubber down his thick length, secretly enjoying the way your eyes followed his movement down his shaft. 

As he climbed back over you, Lin’s tip nestled at your entrance, the heat of it nearly making you squirm before you reminded yourself of Lin’s earlier admonishments. 

Lin pressed blazingly hot kisses into the hollows of your collarbones, nipping it the base of your throat before whispering, “Ready, mi reina?”

You simply moaned in response, and Lin slowly but surely slid into your wet heat, his thick length spreading you out around him as he slipped deeper and deeper until he completely filled you.

At the same moment, you and Lin released sighs at the sensation. Your walls ensheathed his thickness with a warm, wet heat while simultaneously, his cock stretched and rubbed at parts of you that you never were able to reach by yourself. You complimented each other like two pieces of a puzzle fit together.

After taking the brief moment to adjust, Lin began to move. He pulled his hips back and, for a moment, you thought he was pulling out just to mess with you again, but the next instant he slammed himself deep, pounding hard as you groaned in a mixture of surprise and pleasure. 

Lin began to stroke deeply, fucking with precision and power. “So fucking good,” he groaned, pumping into you the way he knew you liked to have your lovemaking: hard, fast, rough and deep. 

“Fuck, papi!” You grabbed at Lin’s body, scratching down his back as he fucked you. All discomfort was gone, your wetness providing a smooth transition as Lin stroked powerfully inside. Each grinding thrust increased your pleasure, your hardened nipples scraping against Lin’s chest as he rocked against you. “Don’t stop, papi…it feels so good.“ 

Lin leaned down, his lips capturing yours. "I’m never going to stop fucking you, nena. I’ll always take care of you my love, whether that be listening to your intelligent little brain or fucking you nice and thoroughly.” he groaned out.

You had a hard time responding as Lin’s cock continued to thrust hard and fast into you, and you let out a strangled moan before being able to respond, “Fuck yes, papi." 

Lin leaned down, kissing your lips firmly. "Yes, you’re papi’s nena…his good girl…his precious reina,” smiling at you. “Who owns this pussy?" 

You couldn’t keep still beneath him, hips squirming and wriggling as you tried to get his cock even deeper. "You own it, papi." 

Lin’s eyes darkened even further in lust. "Damn right, I do.” He increased the speed of his thrusts, nailing you to the bed with hard, pleasurable strokes that shook the headboard. “Papi’s gonna cum, baby girl!” he groaned.

You could feel the tension build in your own body, the knot that Lin had helped form was rapidly getting closer to unraveling. “I am too, papi, fuck…" 

Do it. Cum for me, come on papi’s cock.“ Lin commanded, voice firm as he continued to thrust into you and reached down to place a rapidly circling thumb on your sensitive clit. He stared down at you, wanting to see the exact moment that your face, the one he loved so much, contorted into the peak of pleasure that he was able to give you. 

You squeaked and moaned loudly, as your body arched, arms and legs locked tightly around Lin. "I’m cumming, papi!” you gasped out, waves of pleasure finally reaching their crest and crashing over you as your lover continued to fill you.

Lin could feel your pussy spasming on his thickness, squeezing onto it tightly as you reached your peak. “I’m cumming too, baby girl, fuck…” He rammed hard inside you, holding himself deep as he moaned with each shuddering spasm. 

“Fuck, my love, you feel so good,” he gasped. As his orgasm wound down, he reached down to nip your breast hard, marking you as his. 

You shrieked slightly in surprise when he bit at you, yet you always enjoyed the sunset-colored marks that Lin loved to leave on your body.

Lin slid his tongue over the reddened marks his teeth left on your skin, before he moved to capture your mouth. He was smiling like a child inwardly, swelling with happiness and affection for you as he always did when the two of you made love. Your sex life was anything but boring, and Lin loved the fact that you could go from innocent and loving to filthy and sensuous in seconds. 

“Did you enjoy that as much as I did? Because I think that’s my new favorite way to deal with heat waves.” His hand brushed a strand of hair from your eyes. Lin found you immensely beautiful after sex, with hair mussed, cheeks blushed and your lips swollen and bruised from his kisses. 

You laughed as you curled into his chest, sprinkling kisses onto his soft skin. “I mean, it was the beard that got me going, rather than the heat, and one stays around a lot longer than the other if you know what I mean.”

Lin tucked his chin on top of your head as he pulled the sheets around your entwined bodies. “The beard is definitely sticking around longer than this heat wave, lemme tell ya that.”

You chuckled and snuggled up for an afternoon nap, further extending your break and hoping for a break in the heat.


AN: sweet jesus this was a wild ride. alright y’all know the drill; like, reblog, gimme some feedback because this is my first fic! love you all xoxo sami

Roommates: Part 2

Summary: Reader is a ghost that lives in Tom Holland apartment and Tom doesn’t believe in ghosts. Or does he? Take two of playing with an Ouija board, tom gets some answers and tries to bring home a girl.

Warning: some sexual content, swearing, death, spooky shit, dont play with ouija boards 

Words: 2.5k

Originally posted by tom-holla

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Fanfiction - Happier

I wrote this short thing for the needle wizard, pencil sorceress and all around magnificent friend, the lovely @outlanderedandoverhere. Master Seamstress shares with me the love for Ed Sheeran and I couldn’t resist the urge to have her doing a happy dance over this. Enjoy! X

Happier

I entered the small coffee shop, unfolding my scarf as soon as I felt the merciful warmth of the heating system, aiming towards a quiet table at the corner, as I shook off snowflakes from my curls.

As I waited for the small waitress to bring me my cranberry scone and a large cup of steaming tea, I opened my notebook and started reading the notes I had taken. It was a very hard case, a young patient with a rare tumor compressing his bile duct – presenting with jaundice, looking like the most recent character of The Simpsons. The previous surgeon in charge of the case had announced it to be unresectable, which gave him about three months of life expectancy. At the age of thirty, you are seldom ready for your life to end – least of all without throwing a good fight.

And that was what I was planning to offer him – a risky procedure, only done in the past by a handful of surgeons in the country. If it worked, he would be cancer free – and it was my job to guarantee it worked. I had barely slept the last couple of nights, immersed in planning the surgery to the finest detail.

I loved my job, fiercely – even in the moments I hated it. I never lost the tingling on my palms when I held the scalpel or the sudden feel of a jump inside my belly, like I had missed a step, whenever I finished a hazardous procedure. Besides, it was a very welcome distraction from the wreckage of my personal life.

I sipped my tea, delighted with the smoky taste of the Highland blend, strong and homely on the back of my tongue. It reminded me of the taste of his skin against my lips and I swallowed hard, slightly shaking my head to disperse unwelcome memories.

The bell above the door rang, a small tornado of snow allowed in as new customers entered the cosy place. I bit the back of my pencil, tilting my head to better discern an approach, as I mobilized the invisible pancreas before me. I smiled, seeing the vessels and ducts so well exposed in the eye of my mind, ready to be conquered, and raised my eyes to ask for a second congratulatory scone.

I saw his back but recognized him immediately – I had kissed that spot just behind his ear, where his hair curled at the nape, countless times.

He was wearing his pilot uniform underneath his overcoat, the flight captain’s hat placed next to his elbow on the table. I had a sudden flash of his hands placing that hat on my head, a playful smile on his full lips, his slightly callused hands roaming my otherwise naked body. No.

Without thinking, I was already making myself small on my table, shrinking to the point where I could almost hide under the tasteful tablecloth – wishing I had gone to another place, in another time, in another world.

Only then I noticed he had company - a cute blonde girl wearing stewardess clothes, her lips painted red to match the satin scarf prettily tied around her neck in a bow. She sat in front of him on the table, a complicit smile plastered on her face, as he talked – probably sharing something about a recent trip.

He was always coming and going, flying around the world – I remembered all too well setting my alarm to the middle of the night, just so I could listen to his voice in Tokyo. Kissing him goodbye – there had been so many goodbyes, not enough hellos – before he left to New York. Texting him, unsure where in the world he was exactly – but painfully aware it wasn’t by my side.

The nights became so long, always craving, always wondering. I felt split in two, half of myself scattered in the wind, travelling on the air - while the other half was forced to anchor it, bearing down, struggling with heaviness. There weren’t enough kisses to ease the constant ache, as much as he tried – and he had tried.

“Do ye not want me anymore?” He had asked me on the final night, broken – Oh, so broken.

I hadn’t answered him and in my silence he took his leave, shoulders hunched in pain. In truth, I couldn’t fathom a time when I wouldn’t want him – and that was the problem, wasn’t it? I kept wanting and wanting and wanting, wanting so much everything hurt, wanting so much I feared I would physically break.

The flight attendant touched his hand – to my horror he didn’t shy away from it. It lingered there, natural and possessive, and I felt the scone doing cartwheels inside my stomach like a flour acrobat.

She leaned over and told him something, slightly sticking her tongue out in mischief and he laughed. Throat and lungs and vocal chords, clapping and singing, an orchestra on a perfect rendition of amusement. Standing ovation from the crowd. Claire Beauchamp dead in the audience.

He used to laugh like that with me. Jamie always laughed with his entire body. He was that kind of man – whole in everything he did. I recalled the sensation of his laugh as I laid my cheek on his chest, a scientist studying the mechanisms of happiness. For a moment I closed my eyes and covered them with my hand, foolishly disturbed by the realization I didn’t hold his laughter in exclusiveness.

Jamie looked happy. I could see the outline of his smile, the corners of his mouth turned up in contentment. Had he been that happy with me, once? Before I filled our lives with insecurities, demands and frailties?

She squeezed his hand – fingers touching, skin meeting, hearts melting? - and got up, putting on her elegant coat. With a swish of blonde hair, she kissed his cheek – clearly no amiable kiss demanded such duration, in my opinion – and with a light caress on his forehead, left him finally alone.

He looked around, searching for the waitress to ask for a refill and – of course – spotted me. It was like standing on stage, two spotlights beaming on us, everything else left in darkness. Jamie glanced at me and I proudly endured his gaze, asserting that I saw his happiness and wasn’t shaken at all by it. Liar.

Slowly I made my way to his table, a slug crawling on a lettuce leaf, ugly but brave. I seemed to be ken on eating every crumb of my cake of sorrow and then smile, pretending it was sweet.

“Hello, Jamie.” I greeted him, bracing myself on the notebook I carried. His hair was somewhat shorter than the last time I had seen him, a couple of months ago, his uniform impeccable, the tie on his neck just a bit loose. I used to make his knots and suddenly panicked, fearing that the blonde girl was a master of turns and twists, able of fixing his heart as well as his tie.

“Hello, Claire.” Jamie replied, his voice cautious. “How are ye?”

“Good.” I smiled nervously. “Are you back from work?”

“Aye.” He fidgeted with the mug in front of him, a soft hesitant smile on his lips. “Just got back from Brazil. It was a wee furnace there.”

“Ah.” I swallowed hard, struggling to come up with other pleasantries I could share with him. Do you smile in your sleep when she touches you? “You look good. Happy.”

“What are ye asking me, Claire?” He avoided my gaze, his face abruptly serious.

“Nothing.” I replied in a hoarse voice, well aware that he could spot the tears forming on the corners of my eyes, in the fountains of my soul. “Just that. You looked happy with her.”

“She’s a good lass.” He glared at me, his eyes outrageously blue and intent. “She understands what life is for me. I feel that I can talk to her.”

“As you couldn’t talk to me?” I tried to smile again and failed miserably, the glass of my face polished and glistening, reflecting the thousands of small sorrows hidden in the corners of my eyes.

“I told ye all my soul and heart.” Jamie lowered his eyes, grabbing his hat. “In the end it wasna enough. That is my utmost regret, Claire - that it wasna enough.”

I stood there, speechless, as he gathered his things and left. I thought of the bleeders that elude the most capable surgeon, the cardiac arrest that lasts forever, the hands inside where we are most private, touching the core of what we are, unable to reach what had been lost. I slammed my heart at him as he closed the door behind him – “Jamie!” – knowing all too well I had no one to blame but myself. I had traded all for nothing, convinced it was a worthy bargain – blind, blind, fool.

I crawled home, shaken to the very marrow of my bones, oozing love and loss – sticky and queasy with it. In medical school they had told me how the brain works to protect itself – the clever barrier surrounding it, the plasticity, the temperature regulation – and yet my brain seemed decided to finish me, incessantly playing memories of Jamie, smacking me with my own recklessness. I had no self-preservation left, for I loved him to the atoms of me.

I had seen him happy without me – there was joy there to be sure, in knowing him well. But the pain was almost unbearable, no last redoubt of magical thinking left, where I could hide and pretend we would find our way back to each other. He was gone. Pushed away by my own two hands.

I collapsed on the couch, curling into fetal position, making myself small and smaller. My ears were filled with the sounds of my own heart and I willed him to stop, to let go of beating, to be still and let me be.

He kissed my cheek on our first date. I kissed his lips on the second. Loved all of himself by the tenth. My heart leapt when I saw him, tall and gallant in his uniform, almost running to hold me in his arms at the hospital. When he told me flying was his second favourite thing. When he told me I was first. Red Jamie, my Jamie.

A knock on the door, fast and rhythmed. A secret code for the lover coming.

I padded to the door, afraid and wanting. Hopeful.

I opened the door and he was standing there, snowflakes turning into rivers on the brim of his hat. He reached out with his hand and I took it, already knowing I’d never let go again.

“I was happier with ye.” He whispered in a husky voice. And I remembered it all, the happiness and love I’d known, waiting in him as kisses on his lips.

— kisses of carmine | pt. 2 (M)

Genre: Slight Smut + Angst ➝ Vampire AU

Pairing: Jung Hoseok x Kim Taehyung x Reader.

Plot: Even in Seoul, everybody knows the Crimson Killers’ names.

Warnings: Period mention, graphic depictions of blood and gore, strippers and prostitution, dry humping, violence, slight sexual scenes.

Notes: This chapter does include the “sexual interaction” between Y/N and Min Yoongi, a werewolf, although it is definitely not sex, it might be seen as “weird” to readers. I’m sorry for the wait and for the fact that this part is suffering major Story Number 2 syndrome. Personally, though, I am happy with it!

Extra Notes: I understand that many people will ultimately be disappointed with the contents of this part- I cannot please everybody, and everything included in this story is relevant to the upcoming story I have already planned out. I will just need you to all trust me on my decisions I make and be sure to anticipate how it will impact the story as it progresses. I’m sorry to the readers who didn’t want Y/N having interests outside of Vhope, but this is just who Y/N’s character is and I love her for it. Thanks, though, to those who will enjoy and support my decisions!!

— Whole dialogue which is in italics is dialogue I imagined to be spoken in direct Korean!

➝ Sequel to The Crimson Killer (part of the Merlot Murders series.)


➝ January 3rd, 2017.

The effects of your experience in Las Vegas have come to a dead end since the departure from The Venetian, and frankly, the carmine clips that flicker between the very crevices of your brain continue to haunt you, as you are seated beside the sulking slumber of Jeon Jungkook, and the preoccupied silence of Kim Seokjin, two vampires who changed the course of your eternal misfortune for the greater good.

Oddly, the flight feels familiar to the way it felt leaving Chicago. You leave with a burden weighing upon your shoulders too fragile for the crushing weight, a melancholic feeling residing in the decaying, almost rotten body of your heart still trying to pump blood around you, and the unforgettable memories you created in 104, Rose Avenue at your family home, and on numerous occasions elsewhere. It feels like one large nightmare, one large horror movie doomed to stay on a loop, replaying it’s scariest and most controlling memories over and over until you crack under the pressure of its screams and whispers, taunting you to a deeper dimension of despair. It feels like you are drowning in oxygen that your dead lungs can no longer intake.

Kim Seokjin has flown on several occasions beforehand, and proves to be a suitable and model-example neighbour as he sits beside you, offering only the emotional support of a hand upon your lower thigh, a hardback copy of Twilight in his right hand propped up by an elbow upon the armrest.

Jungkook does not even speak. You suspect it is his methods of overcoming the unexpected, most importantly unforgiving betrayal of his mother, Valerie, back at the hotel in Las Vegas, and it would be unfair for you to pry into the thoughts that already haunt him. So you try to shrink into the suede, navy blue seats with a calm mind, your breaths unevenly spaced but carefully disguised. It would be unecessary to attract the attention of the humans around you on such a small aircraft so far in the air. The future could hold endless possibilities, all too bad over good.

“This book is simply atrocious when it comes to the concept of vampires.”

Keep reading

theblazeofmemory  asked:

Oh, by all means, tho, write an au where everyone works in a library. Or maybe some of them work in a library, and the rest of them end up basically living there, and the ones who work there have to help them find everything and get books off the top shelf because Courfeyrac is too short for this nonsense, help him

(This turned out way sillier than I meant…)


The library closes at six. Javert’s first round is at seven, but he always starts with the offices and outbuildings. He also walks rather slowly and makes a lot more noise than he has to (or actually wants to) as a security guard. There’s a very good reason for this, several actually. And yet, for all his efforts, two of those reasons are making out against a bookcase when he finally reaches the first reading room. Javert clears his throat pointedly.

Courfeyrac and Combeferre yelp and break apart.

What are you still doing here,” Javert asks wearily.

“Excuse me,” Combeferre says, slightly indignant. “I work here.”

Javert glares. He’s well aware of that and that makes this so much worse. He’s used to the place being disrespected by the general public, that employees would do the same is highly disgruntling.

“He was…helping me get a book off the top shelf?” Courfeyrac tries. He’s still out of breath and his curly hair is standing almost straight up.

“It’s after hours,” Javert admonishes. “And you’re disrespecting the library.”

Now Combeferre’s looks genuinely insulted. There is never a book out of place around him. “I would never-” he starts, but Courfeyrac interrupts with an impish smile:

“We are in the romance section.”

Both young men bite their lips not to laugh in response to the look on Javert’s face. “Go home,” he orders wearily and he walks on, shining his flashlight as far ahead of him as it will go. This time his tactics work, because by the time he reaches the language section, Feuilly is looking up from his book apologetically.

“Feuilly,” Javert says soberly. “Forgot the time again?”

“Yes, sir,” he says. “Sorry, sir.”

Javert sighs. “What is it tonight?” he asks.

“Arabic, modern standard,” Feuilly says, showing him the book.

Javert nods. Feuilly isn’t a librarian, he’s a bookbinder. Part of the team that looks after the older volumes in the collection. He has a key though and Javert knows he has no time to study during normal work hours. “Don’t make it too late,” he grunts, continuing on his way.

“I won’t,” Feuilly assures him. When Javert turns the corner he lets out a breathy laugh.

“That was close,” Bahorel hums, crawling out from under the table where he hid just in time.

Javert hears the repressed laughter behind him, but he ignores it. He keeps walking until he sees light shining behind another bookcase. A young, gentle voice is murmuring words. Javert walks around the bookcase, lowering his flashlight.

Cosette, the daughter of the library director, sits up from where she was lying with her head in her boyfriend’s lap. “Good evening, Javert,” she says cheerfully, while Marius flushes pink and then pale for a second, fumbling with the book he had been reading to her.

“Does your father know you’re here?” Javert asks gravely. “…with him.”

“Of course,” Cosette smiles sweetly.

“Very well,” Javert sighs. He glares slightly at Marius, but if Valjean is okay with this, Javert does not feel in a position to argue. He points his flashlight away from them an turns around, but before he can leave Marius speaks up:

“Um, mister Javert, I mean sir, perhaps…you shouldn’t go into the philosophy section?”

Javert turns back to face him and gives him a dark look. Marius smiles nervously, but Cosette hums in agreement and adds brightly: “I think that is very good advice. We…we can vouch for everything being safe and secure in the philosophy section.”

“And the poetry section,” Marius adds hastily.

And the poetry section,” Cosette nods with conviction.

Javert lets out a deep sigh and pinches the bridge of his nose. This is beyond the line of his duty as a security guard surely. “Miss Cosette,” he says. “Are you aware of exactly how many people are at this time still in this library?” Cosette opens her mouth, but he raises his hand. “Don’t tell me,” he protests. He holds up his arm and looks at his watch. “I will make my second full round of the premises in…two hours,” he says deliberately. “Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Cosette says, smiling brilliantly.

Javert nods, turns around and carefully chooses a route that does not only avoid the philosophy and literature sections, but that also does not retrace his steps. Instead Javert walks the grounds outside the library checking the windows and side doors, not that anybody needs to break in. Clearly. 

Your Move

The nine times Simon and Baz prank each other and the one time they don’t

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10

March 27

Simon

My palm is still raw from wrenching it off of the doorknob.  My phone was on my bed, too far away for me to reach, so I couldn’t even call for help.  I was left to grit my teeth and peel my skin off the metal bit by bit.  Then I had to use about five cleaning spells to get all the glue off the doorknob.  It was ridiculous.

           I use my left hand to sift through the books on the shelf I’m scanning.  My right hand is still bandaged around the palm.  I can wiggle my fingers, or hold a pencil, but it still hurts, so I move my hand as little as possible, letting it become stiff in its cocoon of bandages.

           “Simon?”

           I turn to find Agatha peering into my aisle, a quizzical look on her face.  Even when her eyebrows furrow her features remain smooth, like no matter what configuration she pulls them into, that’s exactly where they’re meant to be.

           “Hey Agatha,” I give her a half-smile, inching a book off the shelf little by little with my free hand.  I make a mental note to practice operating left-handed, in case anything worse ever happened to my right hand again.

           “What are you doing here?” she asks, drawing nearer.

           “This is the library.”

           “I know that,” she says, “but what are you doing here?  This is the curses section.”

           “Looking for curses.”

           “Who are you planning to curse?”

           I clench my jaw.  “Who do you think?”

           She nods knowingly.  “What did he do this time?”

           “He super-glued my hand to the bathroom door.”

           “And what did you do to deserve it?”

           I shoot her a raised eyebrow and she shrugs. “Penelope told me about your prank war,” she explains.

           “I tied his wand up in my cross necklace.”

           Agatha just nods, not admonishing my actions like I’d thought she would.  “So you’re going to curse him?”

           I open the book I’m holding to the middle, throwing a glance over the words but not registering a thing.  “That’s the idea.”

           Agatha peers at the book’s title.  “Curse First: A Guide to Harmless Cursing,” she reads aloud.

           “I don’t want to actually hurt him, just give him something to think about,” I say, flipping through a few pages but not seeing anything to catch my eye.

           “Have you tried psychological?”

           “Sorry?”

           “From what I understand, all of your pranks so far have been physical,” Agatha replies.  “You’ve both attacked the body, so why don’t you try the mind?”

           I hold her gaze, weighing the idea.  “How would I do that?”

           “Unwanted thoughts can be maddening,” she tells me, her eyes cool and clear.  “If you can make the brain your weapon, you’ll have won.”

*** 

I take out the book and spend the next few hours poring over it in a far corner of the library. Every footfall has me looking up to see who’s there, to make sure Baz doesn’t find me studying up.  Even if I weren’t searching for spells to bring him down, I can’t concentrate when he’s around anyway.

           Returning to the room much later isn’t nearly as terrifying as it was last night.  I suppose it’s possible that he could break the rules and pull something out of turn, but somehow I know that he won’t.  His last move was strong enough that he’ll give me time to retaliate.

           I wonder how he’ll react if he doesn’t know I’ve made my move.

           I’m lucky tonight, he doesn’t go out gallivanting who-knows-where for a change, meaning I don’t have to wait as long.  I repeat the lines I’ve written to myself as I get ready for bed, ignoring the fluttering of my heart.  Curses tend to bring on spurts of adrenaline, which makes them harder to control.  If I can’t pull this off tonight, I’ll have missed my turn.

           When I emerge from the bathroom, Baz has already turned out the lights and climbed into bed.  He’s facing away from me, but I can be sure he’s not asleep yet.  So I pull back the covers on my bed, crawl in, and check to make sure the notepaper with my curse scribbled on it is still in my pocket.  Then I settle down to wait.

           Falling asleep is always easier when you need to stay awake.  Before long, my eyes are burning from holding them open.  The lines of my curse repeat and mingle in my head as sleep threatens to take over.

           Just a little longer, I tell myself, then I can rest easy.

           My eyelids slide closed involuntarily, and I blink hard to force them back open.

           I strain my ears, listening to every sound I can pick out.

           Baz breathes long and deep.

           Finally.            

           Quietly I push myself up and peer over at Baz.  I can’t see his eyes, but the sheets rise and fall slowly.  Throwing back the covers and grabbing my wand from under my pillow (which is where I’ve started to keep it at night, just in case), I tiptoe across to his bed and squint to see his eyes in the dark.  They’re closed, and for a change his brow is light, smooth, like a boy instead of a monster.

           Perfect.

           I send out a quick prayer that he won’t wake up while I’m casting, and then I bring the wand low over his face.

“Deep sleep, crawl and creep,

From him sweet peacefulness keep,

Turn his dreams to nightmares foul,

Eerie fog and hoot of owl,

Dark, unpleasant, not for fear,

But to keep in misery,

Do not wake for terror’s cries,

Lest you flee his sleeping eyes.”

           By the time I’m done casting, my wand hand is cramping up in its bandages, and I have to force the last sparks of magic out. Baz gives a long sigh in his sleep, and his brow comes together slightly.  Something has worked.

           I return to my bed as my heart slows back to a normal rate.  Sliding my wand into its place under my pillow, my eyes fall shut faster than I can lie down.

 ***

           Baz is a silent sleeper.  He doesn’t snore, doesn’t mumble or toss and turn, doesn’t shout nonsensical phrases.  Sleeping with Baz in the room is like sleeping with a dead thing in the room. Ironic, if I’m right about the vampire thing.

           So when I wake up a little later to the sound of his sheets rustling furiously, I know something is wrong.

           I sit up to see his bed in a flurry of motion as he tosses from one side to the other.  I can’t see his face as he moves, but his breathing is short and heavy like he’s running from something.

           Clearly the curse has worked.  A little too well, by the looks of it.

           It’s harmless, I tell myself as I sink back down into my pillow, trying to ignore the commotion.  He’ll stop in a moment.

           Then the whimpering starts.

           I don’t think I’ve ever heard Baz make such a helpless sound.  It’s so quiet at first that I can’t even be sure I heard anything, but then it happens again and I’m certain.  He keeps tossing and turning, but now it’s vocal.

           He must be having a really bad dream.

           Which doesn’t make much sense.  The curse was only meant to conjure minor nightmares, things like falling, bugs, public humiliation.  Just enough to give the person a restless night’s sleep.

           Somewhere along the way, though, something must have gone wrong with my casting of the curse.

           Because Baz’s whimpers are becoming words, mumbled and then clear as day.

           When he blurts out the word “no”, it’s generic enough that I’m not overly worried, but then he’s saying things like “run” and “please”.  At the word “mother”, which he says louder than before, I flinch.  I don’t know much about Baz’s mum, but I know she’s long dead, and I know he was there, and old enough to remember for the rest of his life.

           I bolt upright when he says my name.

           Because he doesn’t say “Snow”.  He says “Simon”.

           I don’t think I’ve ever heard him call me “Simon” before now.

           I suppose we’re fighting in his nightmare, but there’s something about how he says my name.  It’s not angry or defiant, or even gloating.  It’s afraid, it’s pleading, it’s tearful.

           I shake my head and lie back down, trying to erase the memory.  What is it they say?  Most dreams only last a few seconds in real life even though they feel really long? Whatever Baz is dreaming, it will be over soon.  I pull my blankets closer over my ears to block him out, even though it doesn’t work. I can still hear him.

           It’ll pass.

           “No.”

           It’ll pass.

           “Please.”

           It’ll pass.

           “Simon.”

           It’s not passing.

           I jump out of bed and run to him.  He’s clutching the sheets to his face like he’s trying to hide in them, and I still can’t see his features for the frantic shaking of his head.  Just as I reach him he gives a wordless cry, and I throw my misgivings to the wind.

           “Baz,” I say as calmly as I can, grabbing him by the shoulders, but he just swats at me in a new panic.  This time I shout.  “Baz!”

           He sits up like he’s been shot from a cannon, gasping and panting and looking around in terror.

           “It’s me,” I tell him, still gripping his shoulders. “You’re alright, it’s just me.”

           When his eyes meet mine they’re wild and dark, and heavy with tears.  I see the few seconds it takes for him to recognize me, and then the relief that floods into them as I brush a lock of his hair back from his face with my fingers, not even thinking about the tenderness of the gesture.

           “It was just a nightmare,” I say steadily, my voice low with sleep, and I can see it grounding him.  “Take a deep breath.”

           He tries, but instead I feel his shoulder start to shake as he comes down from the panic.  The tears spill over from his eyes and he looks away from me, back down at his lap.

           Have I ever seen him cry?  Maybe, but never like this.

           This is my fault.

           Suddenly I want nothing more than to fall onto his bed and hold him through his tears, to rub his back slowly and ride out the terror with him. “Baz…”

           “Just go back to bed,” he manages without looking at me, and for a moment I wonder if he knows what I’ve done.

           Walking away from him is like pulling a magnet away from its counterpart.  It aches in places I’ve never ached and it tastes like copper in my mouth.

           I climb back into bed and the feeling hasn’t faded.  It’s just as strong and just as scary.

           I’m so sorry, Baz.

           Some perverse voice in my brain tells me to drop the “your move” line, but the thought is so appalling that it makes my stomach hurt.

           I say nothing.  I make no further move to comfort him, even though every bone in my body is screaming at me to do it.

           I just lie there as he sobs quietly.

           My eyes fill with my own tears more than once before we both calm down enough to fall into a deep, exhausted sleep.

I Hate You, I Love You

For the anon who asked: for a enemies to lover fic (sorry lovie I can’t find the actual request and I usually write them in bullet points in my book)

Author’s Note: In Microsoft Word this is 18 pages long and has a word count of 7344 words. Hope you guys enjoy it!

y/n = your name

y/f/n = your first name

y/l/n = your last name


I Hate You, I Love You

Originally posted by sonjackcarl

The waves lapped softly under the bridge. The light from the street lamps reflected off the water like orange jewels. I huffed a heavy sigh and raised my face to the glittered sky, allowing the chilly, wind to caress my face and toy with the loose strands of hair on my head. I swallowed the lump in my throat, the saliva in my mouth thick making it almost impossible to go down. I crunched the picture in my hand and leaned against the cold metal railings. A slight wetness from the afternoon shower clung to the metal and soaked into the forearms of my jacket.

I lowered my eyes to the crumpled picture in my hand. Dark almond male eyes stared back at me. Gently I caressed the photo, following his long straight nose with my thumb and tracing the outline of his strong bearded jaw. I looked up again and stared out at the horizon, it was lit up like a Christmas tree.

“I’m sorry John,” I whispered and let the photograph slip from my fingers into the water below.

Keep reading

[02] Run

Originally posted by stayingmintyfresh

Masterlist

Part One // Part Two // Part Three // Part Four // Part Five

A/N: This story is inspired by ‘I Need You’ and 'Run’ This story will contain fluff, smut, drinking, drugs, and angst. No, this story will not be exactly like the MV’s but I have used some scenes.

 

 

PREVIOUSLY ON ‘RUN’ 
 

“Um, I am getting evicted.. I have a week to move out..” The thought of asking the man who gave you everything for a place to stay made your sick to you stomach. The walls felt like they were closing in on you and a loud sob erupted from your lips without warning.

“Well dear, its time you finally came to my place and met my roommates. I’ll send you the address. I love you, see you soon.” And with that the line went dead and in a matter of minutes you received a message.

Hobi: 3523 Midrow Ave. Just let yourself in, my room is the second door on the right on the third floor. Be safe, we can go back to your place tomorrow and start packing.  

Third floor? He lives on the nice part of town in a three story house? How many roommates did he have? Why did he never tell me any of this? The subject you once studied so diligently turned out to be a lot more complicated then you anticipated. 

**********

Part Two

You pulled up to a beautiful modern like townhouse that was set at the end of the street, a good distance away from the townhouses that surrounded it. The house’s driveway held six cars including your own, and your mind wondered if there was any in the garage. You looked up in awe as your duffle bag dangled from your arm; the beautiful light gray steps that led to a dark oak door, you admired the way the top floor looked like it was made completely out of floor to roof windows, accompanied by a beautiful black gated balcony. The modern home was made of dark wood panels and smooth white cement, the black window frames seemed to tie the entire townhouse together.

Hoseok, why have I never been to your place? You thought as you finally made your way to the front door ahead, turning the knob and walking inside. As if the front of the house wasn’t enough to take in, the inside was even more beautiful. Gorgeous black couches and two black recliners beautifully complemented the white walls, and dark wood coffee table. Different forms of artwork hung around the house of all kinds of different styles, the living room wasn’t exactly tidy but it was not messy either. 

The house seemed quiet, granted it was around midnight so you assumed everyone was sleeping. You walked two flights of wooden steps finally reaching the third floor, second door to your right.

The door made little to no sound as you slipped inside the room and dropped your bag onto the floor, you quietly unzipped it to retrieve your light pink pajama shorts along with your black knitted sweater. At this point you didn’t care if Hoseok woke up and saw your bare back as you changed, not that you really cared at all.. it was Hoseok for crying out loud. You crawled under the covers next to Hoseok’s half naked body allowing a few tears to fall onto the bed sheets.

“Do you want me to put on some sweats or something y/n?“ He mumbled lazily, fluttering his eyes open to meet yours. “No, no, its alright. I’ve seen you naked before Hobi, I just need you right now.” Not even a second after the words slipped from your mouth Hoseok grabbed your waist and pulled you close, pressing his lips firmly to your forehead.

“I’m here, I’m here, its okay. You can let it out, you can cry, you can vent. I’m so sorry all of this is happening and everything seems to be going wrong but I’m here for you. You can stay here as long as you like. You can share a room with me, or we can clean out the study and have you sleep in there? Either way is fine with me. I’m right here for you.” His words were no longer laced in sleep nor where his words jumbled together, he was fully awake at this point, stroking your hair like he always did.

“I just want to sleep Hobi, I’m just thankful I have you.”

“Good y/n-ah. We have a big day tomorrow, get some sleep beautiful.” And with that he kissed your head one last time and you fell asleep to the soft rhythm of his heartbeat.

*******

“RISE AND SHINE PRINCESS! TIME FOR YOU TO MEET SOME PEOPLE!!” Before your eyes could even adjust properly Hoseok had picked you up and thrown you over his shoulder. When sleep had finally left your body, you become fully aware that your idiot best friend was carrying you over his shoulder and down the stairs.

“Hobi put me down before I fucking end you! I swear to god Jung Hoseok if you do not put me down this instant I will cut your dick off and feed it to you. I will crush you like the bug you are!” You screamed. “I will shove my foot so far up your a-” You were cut off when Hoseok finally set you down and you were met with five pairs of eyes starring at you.

“Hoseok tell your friend to watch her language!” A tall boy with light brown hair commanded with wide eyes causing your cheeks to turn a light pink from embarrassment. His hair fell in front of his face in a perfectly messy manner, his lips were slightly plump and his face was flawless.. all of their faces were flawless in fact. “Oh. I-I’m sorry.” The corner of the boys lips curved up into a smile as he made his way to you and extended his hand in greeting.

“Hi, I’m Seokjin. You can call me Jin if you’d like. You must be Y/n, we’ve heard a lot about you.” You rose an eyebrow and looked back at Hoseok who was wearing one of his infectious smiles.

“All good things I hope.”

“Of course,” He replied sitting back down at the kitchen table with the other five. “Also y/n there is food on the stove, please help yourself.” You bowed your head in thanks and made your way over to the stove grabbing a bacon strip from the pan, nibbling on it as you stood next to Hoseok like a lost puppy too scared to leave its owner earning a little chuckle from him.

Your eyes scanned over the stunning characters sitting in front of you as they did the same to you, looking you up and down almost as though they had never seen a girl before. A tall boy with slicked back pink hair met your eyes and gave you a nod before speaking. “Hello Y/n, welcome to our home. I’m Namjoon, feel free to call me Rap Monster.” His smile was complimented with two deep dimples that almost made you want to go up and ask permission to touch them. Almost.

Before any one of them could speak, an adorable boy with green streaks in his hair made his way towards you giving you the most fascinating box smile you’d ever seen in your life. “Hey, I’m Taehyung. We are friends now, you are family and you can call me whatever you want.” He slung his arm around you and rested his head against yours almost like you’d known each other for years, his presence was something so comforting that you smiled back letting a small giggle fall from your lips.

Your eyes fell on a dark haired boy, with a body of a god. Well at least of a God you would surely worship. It was hidden poorly in a white t shirt that allowed his collarbones to peek out in an oh so beautiful way and it wasn’t until you reached his face that you noticed how complex he was. His astonishing face structure gave him the look of a model but the adorable bunny smile he was giving you gave him the look of the most innocent of creatures. “I'm Jungkook, welcome.” His voice was slightly shy and that made you only want to go up and hug him.

“Hi, I’m Jimin.” A boy with orange hair and plump lips smiled. He was noticeably smaller then the others and equally beautiful. His hair was oddly fascinating, nearly resembling a Disney Prince’s; it fell effortlessly above both eyes with a almost precise middle parting. He had the smile of the sweetest angel in the world but the lips that would tempt even the devil himself, just like Jungkook his collarbones peeked out from underneath his flowy white tee. He was temptation in the simplest of terms, but at the same time he was just as complex as Jungkook; his smile so big that his eyes squinted and his cheeks were practically begging to be squeezed.

“Hi everyone, its nice to meet all of you." 

"Well, there is one more of us but he is usually asleep all day. He is sort of an ass but in the best way I suppose.” Taehyung hummed, the famous grin never leaving his lips.

“Y/n, what all are you planning on packing? Everything you can or essentials?” You nibbled on piece of toast meeting Hoseok’s curious eyes. “Probably all my clothes, my makeup, brush, toothbrush, some blankets pillows, I could bring my-” Hoseok cut me off with a chaste kiss on the forehead. “So the essentials?”

“Fuck you Jung Hoseok.” His amused chuckle was reply enough as you hugged him tight and excused yourself from the kitchen to change. You were standing in the middle of Hoseok’s room wearing your favorite pair of black ripped jeans and matching black push up bra, when he slipped in and walked over to his closet.

“Hey Hoseok, thanks again for letting me stay here.” You smiled, slipping on a black shirt then fell loosely around your shoulders allowing you to join the collarbone club.

“No need to thank me Y/n.”

*********

Taehyung unloaded the last box and happily carried it to Hoseok’s room, causing you to smile in admiration. He is like a child in an adults body. You thought to yourself on your way up the stairs to your now shared bedroom. You thanked Taehyung for his help and waited until he left the room to finally begin speaking. “Hoseok. I really feel bad for making you share your room so what I was thinking was, we can keep my TV in here and we can move my mac, keyboard and art supplies in the study so that while I’m working I wont be bothering you or being up your as 24/7. I also noticed a few empty shelves in the study and I could easily put some of my cl-” Hoseok grabbed your hand in his, rubbing his thumb absentmindedly along yours which in fact was his way of telling you to stop talking.

“I don’t mind sharing a room with you Y/n, my bed is your bed and my closet and drawers are yours as well, as for your music and art supplies I do think it will be fine to move it into the study.. but don’t think for a second its because you will be bothering me. I’ve seen you in your zone and I would only disturb that. Yoongi is the same with his music so I’m used to that,” Yoongi? Was that the mystery roommate you still haven’t met yet? “So, you go and unpack your clothes and set your makeup and shit in the cabinet of my bathroom and I’ll move your supplies to the study. I’ll call Joon to come and hook up the TV."  With that Hobi disappeared out of the room and you began hanging up a few articles of clothes.

"Hey Y/n, I’m just here to hook up the TV." Namjoon’s dimples greeted you once again, his chocolate brown eyes almost asking you if it was okay that he was doing such a thing. You gave him permission with your smile and continued the task at hand.

"I’m surprised he doesn’t have a TV in here already." You stated with a soft chuckle as you made your way to the dresser to put away your unmentionables.

"We don’t normally watch TV honestly, we usually go out.” Go out? Like to bars and stuff? My sunshine boy goes out and parties? Since when?

“Go out?” Your words were coated in curiosity and shock, making Namjoon stand up straight and look at you with an unreadable expression until the right side of his mouth curved into a very (sexy) smirk.

“Come out with us tonight Y/n, it’ll be fun.” Before you could open your mouth to answer Hoseok came jogging into the room. “I just asked Y/n if she wanted to come out with us tonight.” You looked over at Hoseok trying to read his expression to search for any sign of what your answer should be, as if he could feel your confusion he met your eyes.

“Do you trust me?” He asked, his tone serious but hopeful at the same time.    

“Of course. I trust you with my life.” And it was true, you did trust him with your life. Hoseok never lied to you, or let you down and never gave you a reason to not trust him, you would even give up your life in an instant for him and you know he would do the same in a heartbeat. When it came to Hoseok you had no doubt in your mind that he would make sure you were safe, you trusted him with anything and everything.

“Then I’d love it if you came out with us Y/n. I promise nothing bad will happen.” Why would something happen? Why is he being so weird? You gave him a stern nod and little did you know with that one nod, you had just sold your soul. Sold your soul to a brand new lifestyle.

********

You tucked your black shirt into your jeans nicely and looked at yourself in the mirror, you were dressed in head to toe black but it looked good on you, your collarbones were still noticeable but you didn’t mind. You grabbed your favorite ribbon like choker and secured it safely around your neck, and grabbing one of Hoseok’s cardigans to complete your attire. “You look beautiful.” You spun around to find Hoseok in nice fitting jeans, and white shirt and his favorite army green bomber jacket with black sleeves. His hair was slightly parted in the middle which is something you hadn’t quiet seen before, his thin black choker fell loosely around his neck and you couldn’t help but gawk over your best friend. “Oh shut up Hobi, look at you! You look so damn good. THATS MY BEST FRIEND, THATS MY BEST FRIEND!” You shouted jumping onto his back and kissing his cheek; he laughed at your childlike gesture and carried you on his back all the way down the stairs.

“Yoongi, Taehyung and Jimin are still getting ready.” Jungkook stated once yall reached the living room. Oh so the mysterious Yoongi is coming with us.

You took a seat on the nearest recliner and made conversation with Jin, Jungkook, and Namjoon a waiting the others; we spoke of hobbies and dreams only making you more fascinated with the model like boys. Namjoon aka Rap Monster really wants to pursue a rapping carrier and by the stuff he showed me it was only a matter of time, Jin wants to sing but feels his voice isn’t anything special which is a huge load of bullshit you might add, his voice was amazing. Jungkook wanted to sing and dance and he mentioned he really found an interest in being a tattoo artist, his drawing skills were great as was his singing. You then gave them a quick rundown on all that has happened in the last 24 hours and how you played piano, sing a bit and draw, you were about to open your mouth to sing something when Namjoon stood up clapping.

“Oh thank you guys for blessing us with your presence. But where is Grandpa Yoongs?” This kid only speaks in sarcasm and I love it! You chuckled softly standing up as well and turning towards the stairs along with everyone else. Jimin opened his mouth to answer Joon when a boy with mint colored came down the steps. “I’m here, I’m here calm the fuck down,”

You couldn’t hear any of the other boys as you looked Yoongi up and down admiring his choice of style and thanking the heavens for the creation they had made. His skin was slightly pale but noticeably smooth that even a porcelain doll would have been jealous, only hoping and praying that their skin would even come close to his perfect skin. His mint hair that fell right above his eyes complimented his pale skin and slight rosy cheeks, not to mention his eyelashes were something you only wished you could achieve. You looked at him as though you had never seen beauty before then. His top lip jutted outwards to make an odd pout like face but oh dear how perfect his lips were, they were well past thin but nowhere near as plump as Jimin’s lips; Yoongi’s lips seemed to be a euphoric kind of temptation while Jimin’s were the sinful kind. His entire face had to have been created by the strongest of gods, you scanned his face for any flaws this god could have possibly given him but to no surprise there was none to point out. Your eyes trailed down to his cream colored Rolling Stones shirt and black leather bomber jacket, his dark denim jeans rolled up at the ankles, his sense of style causing an even bigger lump in your throat.

 "I hope we are getting burgers and fries first because I’m starving.“ his next words snapping you out of whatever trance you were under. What the fuck was that y/n!? Take a deep breathe and have fun tonight. You nodded in agreement and headed for the door following behind Hoseok.

Jin, Namjoon, Jungkook, and Jimin piled into Jin’s black truck causing Yoongi and Taehyung to jump into the bed. Taehyung reached his hand out to you to help you in and you took it, raising your leg up and over the tailgate and taking your seat diagonal from Yoongi. Hoseok hopped in after you giving you a reassuring smile that everything was going to be okay, because never in your twenty four years of life had you ever ridden in the bed of a truck.

"So Y/n, I know you said you played piano and sang but have you ever written anything?” Taehyung asked causing a slight ting of pink shoot through your cheeks, lucky enough it was dark out and the only light that lit your face was the passing street lights.

“Well I-”

“V, she has written so many songs and she hates them throws them away and I have to fish them out of the trash and beg her to put it in a folder or something. So she has at least a dozen crumbled up songs shoved in her art portfolio." V? Was that Taehyung’s nickname or something? You gave Hoseok a death glare as you hit him in the shoulder with great force.

"Fuck you Jung Hoseok.” earning a chuckle from all three of them, including Yoongi. You met his eyes as the street light lit his face up for enough time to see the cutest gummy smile you had ever seen. “I’m Y/n.” You smiled in a desperate attempt to start a conversation which did not go unnoticed by Hoseok who smiled softly. Hoseok was never one to tease you about crushes or anything of that nature, he simply was there for when you were ready to either admit it or wanted help.  "I know. I’m Yoongi.“ He responded before the truck had come to a stop and Yoongi hopped out over the side panel of the bed. Focus on having fun Y/n, stop worrying about things. Sit back and have fun, you deserve this. Get Minho out of your head, Jisoo, and the evection. Just have. Fun. And that’s exactly what you did.

You were about to walk into the small burger joint when Hoseok pulled you to the side and waited for the others to go in first. "Y/n… there is going to be things that happen tonight that you are just going to have to trust me with, but before you freak out just trust me. By the end of the night you are going to feel like you are on top of the world and you wont even remember that asshole Minho. So can you trust me?” He had his hand gripped around your wrist in a manner that didn’t scare you, nothing about Hoseok scared you. You loved him with all your heart and trusting him was something that just came naturally; the only thing that was somewhat alarming was that your curiosity was getting the best of you.

“I trust you Hoseok.”

And with that he pulled out a silver flask and handed it over to me nonchalantly. “Take a swig of this to calm your nerves, I know you don’t usually drink but trust me when I say you are going to need this to loosen up and be ready for where the night takes us.” You scanned his eyes for any sign of a joke but when you found nothing but pure sincerity you took the flask and thought to yourself bottoms up. The liquor burned down your throat causing you to stick your tongue out in disgust and give the flask back to Hoseok who then took a swig himself. “I know its gross but trust me you’ll get used to it.”

Since when the fuck did he drink? What the fuck is going on with this kid? What am I letting you drag me into Hobi?

The rest of the boys had already picked a table in the corner of the joint awaiting us to join them. “We already ordered, Y/n I hope you’re okay with a double bacon cheese burger?” Jin asked raising an eyebrow waiting for the okay. “Hell yeah it is.” Ten minutes paced and out came eight burgers and eight sets of fries were slid down the table, each meal being accompanied by large drinks all in which ended up being mixed with a bit of vodka thanks to Hoseok and his silver healer. The drink was foul in a very tolerating way, it wasn’t enough to shoot one’s vision but it was enough to make you feel good after a while.

“What the fuck do you mean Kumamon s better then Ryan!?” Namjoon screamed throwing a handful of fries at Yoongi who was laughing so hard his argument on why Kumamon is better was barley understandable. The laughter of all eight of you filled the air and only increased in volume when Taehyung jumped onto the table and started dancing, he held out his hand begging me to join him on his journey of strange when a voice behind you made you turn around before you were able to accept his invitation.

“Y/n?” You were face to face with Minho and Jisoo holding a To-Go bag, your face fell and the laughter behind you subsided.

“Minho, well you sure look sorry from last nights events.” You spat as you quickly remembered how good you and the men you were with looked.

“Oh honey write one of your stupid songs and get over it,” His words were sharp like knives, impaling you deep and when he snaked his arm around Jisoo’s waist it only twisted the knife. His eyes left yours for a moment as he scanned the boys behind you then met yours once again. “Seven guys? Damn.” His tone of voice implying something that PornHub would love to see.

“Get the hell out of here Minho, and take the side bitch with you.” Hoseok demanded making even you jump at the projection of his voice. Minho curved his lips into an amused smirk and turned to leave, but not before he could get the last word. “See you around Y/n.”

You turned around to face the others who all had an unreadable expression painted on their face, Taehyung who was still standing on the table jumped down and gave you a boxy smile. “Y/n-ah, you can do so much better then him.” Your smile was weak but in an instant the fun was back on, you took a big gulp from your coke and vodka mixed drink and joined in the fry throwing. Jin was taking pictures with his light pink mini polaroid as you took videos of everyone’s funny faces and loud laughs.

Jin ordered more fries while we refilled our drinks and headed on out leaving a mess behind us, and on any other day you wouldn’t have left such a horrid mess in your trail but at this point in time you didn’t give a single fuck.

You rested your head on Hoseok’s shoulder as you watched the street lamps pass until they soon looked like bright blurs of nothing, you fed some fries to Hoseok not taking your eyes off the lamps above while shoveling a few into your mouth as well. The dark sky was soon replaced by a tiled tunnel and bright lights every few feet, the tunnel was to dirty to be called cream colored but to clean to be brown.

The truck came to an abrupt stop blocking any future cars to come this way, you gave Hoseok and worried look and he quickly squeezed your knee firmly. “Okay Y/n, there is going to be a ton of cars blocked off soon and when I grab your hand I want you to scream as loud as you can. Don’t think, just do. Take all that anger and sorrow you have inside and use it for what we are about to do.” You nodded hesitantly and watched as a few cars came to a halt and honked their horn that had never sounded so loud before. Four cars, turned to seven and eventually that turned to twelve, you hopped out of the bed once again and stood in front of the driver side door, the others (excluding Jin who was still in the drivers seat) lined up next to you.

Your heart boomed so loudly inside your chest you looked around to see if maybe someone heard it. Hoseok reached for your hand and squeezed it tight. “NOW Y/N.” Your mind flooded with images of Minho and the young women who took him away, memories of you and him etched into your memory like a regretful tattoo flew past your eye lids and soon all the memories and images came out into a loud scream that was camouflaged with six others. It felt so good and before you knew it Hoseok let go of your hand and ran straight into the ocean of honking cars, he chugged a bunch of his soda and spit it right at a cars closed window. Hoseok? What the hell..

Jimin climbed onto the hood of a car and poured the remaining contents on his drink all over it, V pulled out a can of spray paint and painted a huge red ‘X’ onto the windshield and before you could fathom the events that were occurring a hand grabbed your wrist and pulled your forward. “The trick is pretend the cars are someone who fucked you over, then just roll with it.” A slightly deeper voice whispered in your ear causing your heart to flutter slightly once you were fully aware of who it was. You looked at Yoongi and watched as he let go of your wrist, gave you a wink and threw a few fries at the windshields of a few honking cars.

You swallowed your fear and copied Hoseok’s action from earlier, you ran into Taehyung and snatched his spray paint away and claiming it as your own inspiring him to smile at your sudden wave of confidence. You let out another scream and marked a car with a long line of red paint, getting completely carried away. Yoongi came to you once more and snaked an arm around your waist.

“Time to run.” He threw his half empty soda at a car’s front lights and together you ran, you ran as fast as you possibly could, as fast as Yoongi was making you go. Jin turned the car and began driving his way out of the tunnel as the rest of you ran beside him giving him enough time to prepare to flee. Rap Monster jumped into the passenger seat as the rest of you hopped into the bed of the truck and screamed once more. You threw the last of your fries and smiled as the wind blew your hair everywhere. Never in your life had you felt so alive.

Hoseok grabbed your waist and kissed your head. “Welcome to the dark side Y/n, we’ve been expecting you.” Jungkook smiled brightly at you and patted your back softly. “I’m glad you joined us, you looked badass out there.”

Jimin hugged you tight ignoring the fact that Hoseok’s arm was still wrapped around you and whispered sweetly in your ear. “You won’t ever have to worry about someone hurting you while you have us.” Your heart swelled from all the love and compliments from the boys sitting in the bed of the truck with you. “Y/N STOLE MY SPARAY PAINT AND EVEN LOOKED BETTER THEN ME WHILE USING IT!” Taehyung shouted with a sight pout plastered onto his lips. Yoongi rolled his eyes at Taehyung’s remark and threw the wadded up To-Go fries bag at him. “V, anyone looks better then you,” he mocked before turning his attention to you.

“After you got over being little wimp you did pretty good.” Yoongi chuckled with a sly smile.

He was a bit on the grumpy side, giving all too many poker faces and snide remarks to the other members, but you were glad you caught him on a day that made him smile.

“So what do we do next?” You asked looking around at the faces around you. They all gave each other knowing smiles as you drowned in your own curiosity fully aware they weren’t going to tell you what was next.

“Having more fun.” Hoseok finally said, sending a playful wink your way.

FANFIC * NESSIAN * PART SIXTEEN

Originally posted by missingpage5

Nessian Part Sixteen by L.J. LaFleur

Nesta:

Aedin’s freckled fist clamped harder, my legs flailed as I scratched at his death grip. Black spots invaded my vision, whispers singing in my ears.

Ignite, ignite, ignite…

Spit splattered on my face as he snarled, “your insults are no match for me, King Slayer.”

A beast playing with its prey; this couldn’t be my fate.

The iridescent blue glow of my restraints shined so bright I had to close my eyes. I tried to separate my wrists, but the icy burn only grew. I couldn’t break free. The fire building in my core dissipated. I had nothing, no strength—no magic. Completely empty.

His throaty laugh rang around us, echoing off the stone walls. “You won’t be able to talk, let alone move once I’m done with you.”

Cassian. Think. What did he teach me? What did he…I slammed my knee into Aedin’s gut–missing my mark. He loosened his grip just enough for me to scream. So, I did. With every fiber of my being–I screamed, in hope someone would hear me. Would find me.

That he would find me, that he would take me home.

Aedin’s calloused hand tightened around my windpipe again, choking the air out of me.

I clawed at his face, missing, as he dodged my nails. The torch light dwindled as I felt my life fade, as my vision blurred in and out.

“Is that anyway to treat our guest?”

My eyes shot open, was it him? Did he hear me somehow?

“Eris…” Aedin bared his teeth, scanning his brother stepping out of the shadows.

“Release her,” he replied nonchalantly while crossing his muscular arms.

Aedin turned away from Eris and focused on me. His lips curling upwards as he released me. “The next time, you won’t be so lucky,” he threatened, backing away.

I sucked in a deep breath, searing my throat with the frigid air. A second breath led to a fit of coughing. As if I were drowning, but no water fled my lungs.  

Eris inhaled sharply through his nose, “she’s claimed, Aedin.”

“I didn’t see your brand,” he snapped, pulling his long fiery locks into a low bun.

“Why don’t you check again?”

Aedin glared at his brother then looked me over, his eyes focusing on my bare shoulder. A flaming sun, branded into my delicate skin. I hadn’t felt it, I hadn’t noticed it until now.

“You know what happens to those who touch what is mine.” Eris shrugged, pushing the cell door open as a sign for Aedin to leave. “Or should I remind you…?”

Aedin growled in response, stalking off before Eris could finish.

I touched my aching throat, wincing in response. I was still trying to suck down the air I was deprived of. My eyes watered with amber, with the reminder that I was still alive.  

“Are you alright?” He asked with a stone-cold demeanor. Amber irises flickered to my neck, assessing the damage that would be seen for days, if not years.

I couldn’t speak, my throat burned so badly. The faebane chains felt even colder, invisible frost spreading across my fingertips, racing up my trembling arms. If I fought…if…if I tried to use my powers, the colder the restraints became. The colder, I became.  

“I’ll be back,” Eris moved away from the wall, winnowing away for a brief minute. He appeared with a small stack of clothes and my Illyrian boots.

Moving, speaking—any action, felt like it would be my last. Knots in my stomach grew as amber tears trickled down my cheeks. I had never cried so much in my life, not until this fucking cauldron doomed me. I was fine. I was cold, I was prepared. But now, I was only broken. A shell meant to be fucked, a heart meant to be corrupted.

Eris set the items between me and him, the center of the cage. He didn’t edge closer, but I saw him—I saw him shaking—fire dancing between his fingers.

I grabbed my stomach, blood rushing out of my head as I replayed Aedin’s words. As him and Tomas collided into one demon I couldn’t outrun. I raced to the nearest corner, spewing vomit until I fell to my knees. My restrained hands pushed into the stone wall, scraping my knuckles until they bled.

The fire in the torch dimmed, giving me privacy as I expelled my guts. My esophagus shredded with the burning acid. I braced myself, letting the cold stone seep into my sweaty forehead. Closing my teary eyes, I thought of what good was left.

What good I could fight for. I peeked over my shoulder, over the brand that marked me as his. A circle with several tendrils of fire; a flaming sun made out of damaged tissue.  

Eris slid down the wall, seated next to the door. His eyes and ears focused on every movement inside and out of the cell.  

I wiped bile from my lips, sinking to my knees, “I belong to no one.”

“I know,” he replied quietly, his attention focused elsewhere.

“Then why…?” It hurt too much to speak, like claws ripping through my vocal chords.

Eris leaned his head back, looking at the dripping ceiling, “it’s the only way…” He paused, brows knitting together, lost in thought.

I clenched my teeth, amber tears flooding down my cheeks.

His jaw tightened then released, “he won’t harm you again.”

Tears fell into the water, hissing with disdain; I didn’t believe him. I crawled on my knees, shaking so violently I couldn’t stand. I reached for the clothing, my trembling hands could barely hold the fabric.

“Here…” Eris rose to his feet, “let me help you.”

“You’ve done enough,” I muttered to him, unable to speak any louder.

Eris nodded, strands of his auburn hair catching in his beard. “I never meant to harm you,” his low voice barely audible; he didn’t look away from me, embers dancing behind his warm irises. “Please…let me help you.”

I studied the man before me, the man of ash and smoke. Waiting. Would he strike me? Would he harm me in other ways?

“I won’t…” he replied softly to my unasked questions. Eris raised me to my wet feet, once a solid column—I now stood shivering, caving within myself. He unleashed the fire on his fingertips, sending the flames to the diminishing torch. The temperature of the dungeon increased to something more bearable.

The warmth of his fingers soothed the aching chill of the faebane. I didn’t bother to ask for the chains to be removed, I knew they wouldn’t do it. I knew he couldn’t—even if he wanted to.

But I think he believed my earlier threat, that if he were to remove these chains, I would shred and burn everything until the Autumn Court was merely a tomb of ash.

Eris dried my shivering body with a tattered cloth. His calloused hands gently dressing me. Not a single touch of skin as he dressed me in a new tunic—thicker than my last but gray instead of cream. He looked away, as he laced up the sleeves and front panels; his way of not releasing me of my shackles. Scarred fingers working vigorously until he finished with a knotted bow.

My hands still shook furiously, I tried to clench them into fists but failed.

He guided my dirty feet into the black trousers, one foot at a time. Again, he studied the wall behind me as he helped tie everything close. But it was tighter, the knot complicated and unwavering to whoever touched it next. Safety–security–for my own piece of mind.  

Lastly, he sat me back on the floor, drying my feet before sliding on the chestnut colored boots.

I could barely breathe, barely move as the adrenaline started to die down. I didn’t say thank you, I didn’t say a word to him. Not even as he slid back down the wall on the opposite side of the cell, his knee loudly popping on the way down. His rigid body positioned between me and the metal door.

A tray of unappetizing food appeared but all I could do was stare. Red meat and a loaf of stale bread. I tried to drink water, but it only hurt with each sip.

“You need to eat,” Eris finally spoke, his arms crossed in front of his burly chest. 

My eyes flashed to him, to his still stature then to the corner I threw up in. The thought of eating only disturbed my stomach further.

Eris pulled at his auburn beard, “I know it hurts,” he paused to exhale his held breath, “but you need it. You need the energy.”

I didn’t reply back, I couldn’t. Instead I laid down, shifting so my back faced him. Tears expelling out of me as I covered my quivering mouth.

“Nesta?” Eris’ voice sounded far away, hollow. He didn’t say another word, nor did he leave.

Instead the room filled with silence, sorrow suffocating the flames. I was scared to sleep once, horrified of the damage I would inflict but here—with faebane chains—it didn’t matter. The darkness flooded into me, whispers curling around me as I sunk further into where new dreams and old memories collide. With heavy eyelids and a broken heart, I let the blanket of slumber encase me.

Originally posted by flyngdream

“Elain, elain…?” my voice unable to reach her.

We were in the House of Wind. A castle made of mountains and monsters.

I shook her frail shoulders, unable to wake her. She was there, I knew she was but the sadness. The overpour of agony, of disgust, infiltrated her body.

My beautiful rose–her petals had finally fallen.

I scanned her vigorously, “please…please come back to me. I know, I…I know what we saw. Who we saw. What we endured to stay alive. But I am begging you, please don’t leave me alone in this new world.”

Her beautiful hazel eyes sparkled briefly, a glimpse of herself coming back. Then it was gone, instantly and painfully—she was gone.

My rage had come to a head, my new body—limbs, hearing, eyesight—everything was fresh and absolutely unnerving. I was a human soul, trapped for all eternity.

The bubbling anger took control, I needed to scream—I needed to get this unsettling energy out of me.

I left Elain alone, for the first time since our arrival in this foreign land. I picked up my skirts and scurried out of our room. I prayed to whatever gods were in this realm and only hoped those bastard bats would leave her be.

My steps quickened as my heart shrunk, creating a black mass in my chest. I tripped over myself, my feet thinner—longer than before. I felt like an infant learning to walk for the first time.

“Shit…” I mumbled, picking myself up from the floor and continuing toward the nearest set of doors.

With a loud bang, I pushed them open, cracking one panel in half. I couldn’t control this newfound strength. I couldn’t control myself.

Books, thousands of books lining every wall. I could hear my galloping pulse in my ears, I bared my teeth—screaming as I tore into the shelves. I ripped apart pages upon pages. Everything I once loved, gone. I tore into scrolls and leather-bound masses.

Tears flooded down my face as I continued shouting.

Feyre.

Elain.

Me.

I couldn’t control the fury that leaked out of my hands, the buzzing magic stirring inside me. Papercuts from sharp pages, wood splinters stabbing into me as I damaged every shelf in my wake.

“What did the books ever do to you?” he playfully rasped from behind.

My body twirled to face him, bewildered and broken, I couldn’t speak.

Cassian stood in the damaged door frame, whistling as he took in the room. “A mighty shame, don’t you think?”

“You’re alive,” I whispered, my chest heaving as I caught my breath.

Scars scattered across his gigantic wings. Bruises and scratches layered throughout his body. But he was here, standing before me.  

A smirk lined his soft lips, “no, I’m a figment of your imagination.”

“I thought…” I breathed in through my nostrils. His scent rammed into me, cedar wood, perhaps? Something else…I, I couldn’t focus.

Cassian stepped forward, his hands up in surrender, “do you plan on destroying the rest of the library or will you let the innocent books go?” Slowly, he made it to where I stood—in the middle of chaos and destruction. His worn boots crunching the wreckage beneath them.  

“Why are you here?” I snapped, my chilling voice leaving gooseflesh across his bronze skin. My brows drew together, I couldn’t look away.  

“I needed to…” he stopped speaking, nostrils flaring as he moved in closer to sniff me. Cassian’s dark hair fell into his face as his nose neared my tear stained cheek.

My breath hitched as his body nearly collided with mine. It was too much. He was a threat, a danger to…I kicked his shin, “back off, bastard.”

Cassian’s eyes widened, not even registering that I had just hit him, “no…” The black spots in his hazel eyes ignited, nearly encompassing all the copper flecks. He moved closer, enclosing the space between us. Cassian’s thunderous heartbeat throbbed against me, matching the pace of mine.

I shook my head, tears stinging my gray-blue eyes, “has this world not taken enough from me? Has fate not…” I couldn’t finish, my lips trembling so badly it prevented me from speaking.

“That’s not…Nesta,” he backed away from me, his eyes brimming with tears. “I’m sorry,” his voice broke, “I’m so…I, I’m sorry…” Cassian stepped backwards again—shaking his head before storming out of the room.

Sinking to my knees, to the scattered scraps of paper and binding on the floor. I dug my fingers into their remains, sobbing for the life I once had—crying for the life I would never return to.

Originally posted by marvelheroes

Cassian:

I cursed under my breath, every movement sending a jarring thrash of pain through me. I was scared to close my eyes, no matter how heavy they became—I wouldn’t risk it. Too much time had already passed since I realized she was gone.  

“I told you,” Az mumbled, adjusting my bandaged arm over his armored shoulder, “you needed to rest.”

A low, painful chuckle rippled out of me, “Rhys said the same thing.” I winced again, “my wings might be fucked but my brain is working just fine, I assure you.” Another grunt escaped me, this time due to my own adjustments.

Rhys chimed in, “are you sure?” An attempt to be humorous but I could hear the lingering fear—failure—in his voice.

I growled in response, even when I wanted to tell him it wasn’t his fault. None of this was. However, he didn’t need to hear what everyone else was repeating to him. Rhys needed familiarity—he needed a savage bastard, his Lord Commander of the Night Court Armies.

So, that’s what I’ll be.  

The shadows faded away, sinking back into the Shadowsingers scaled chest. Their grip tightened around my cloth-wrapped wrists, a silent signal of reassurance. We would find her, we would bring her home.

Wherever that was for her.

Wherever she wanted.    

The world had taken enough from her. Fate had ripped a hole through the heart that could tame beasts and set fire to men.

Nesta.

Not the Cauldron Thief, Emissary or King Slayer.

Just a woman caught in a world she never wanted to be a part of. A fucking avalanche of emotions. A blade wielded of ancient fire and ice.

Nesta, the woman who deserved more than what the cruel threads of fate have woven for her.

I would spend the rest of my life, cutting and rethreading a new life for her. Even if I wasn’t in it, even if I were one of the threads that needed to fall—to be forgotten. I would do it…no matter how much it tore me apart.      


Originally posted by starfishandcoffee

In case you missed the previous parts…

ONE 

TWO 

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN 

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

get under the car.

Pairing: Jeon Jeongguk / Reader.

Genre: Fluff / Humour.

Summary: Today is supposed to be a peaceful day off, but when you find a pair of hands sticking out from underneath your car, it becomes all the more interesting.

Count: 2,400+ words.

Note: Adapted from my old story of the same name. Not much has changed, I just liked this piece and wished to repost it!


A day off is well needed after six shifts straight, alongside a whole lot of homework from lectures that have kept you up until the late hours of the evening. Or more so, into the earliest minutes of the morning. So when you notice that your Thursday is completely free of absolutely anything at all, the sight of the blank space on your calendar nearly brings a tear to your eye, and you decide it can be the perfect twenty-four hours to treat yourself, to at long last, kick back and relax. 

And what a lovely day it has been so far! You sleep in without any concern of an alarm, briefly waking only to roll over and drape yourself back into your sheets, welcoming another hour and a half of dreams. The sound of your roommate slamming the front door on her way out to one of her own tutorials has you decidedly getting up, taking your time to make toast, switching the kettle on to boil until you open the coffee jar and realise the dreaded fact that less than half a teaspoon of grains is found stuck to the bottom.

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The Shadows Under the Window

This came from a little half-dream I had, when I’d started to wake up but was kind of dozing off again.  (Also I don’t know how formatting works for submissions so if you need to add a ‘keep reading’ somewhere feel free)

It happens to so many of us.

Perhaps you’re up late studying or putting the final touches on a paper; perhaps it’s the weekend, your friends are out of town and your roommate has already gone to bed, leaving you to your own thoughts.  Some nights the shadows collecting like dust in the corners of your dorm room beyond the pale glow of your laptop screen will seem to press a little closer, the branches swaying in the fog outside your window will sound a little more like fingernails on the glass.  For some, those are the nights you leave an extra cup of milk outside your door and double-check the clasp of your iron chain before you go to bed.    But for others, those are the nights you find yourself thinking: “I wonder…”

Don’t break the salt line in the doorway as you leave; leave a note for your roommate, just in case.

In the older history building, some of the first floor has been renovated, but the second floor never has.  The classrooms up there are always faintly musty and the blackboards never seem to get clean no matter how much you try and erase them.  The one in the far eastern corner of the building, the least used of any on that floor,  is crowded with too many of those old wooden chairs with the desks attached.  Classes held there sometimes find handprints on the blackboard in the mornings.  Whoever comes in first erases them and leaves a packet of butter or coffee creamer on their chair when they leave.  The main entrance is the only door to stay unlocked at night.  Make sure the salt packets are still in your pockets before you go inside; say a polite hello to the slender cat-shaped shadow sitting under the streetlight as you pass.

Bring a pen and paper with you, and an offering– depending on your request, you may need more than dining-hall butter or cream cheese packets.  A bottle of Bailey’s, heavy cream, even a pint of good vanilla ice cream could earn you a bit of extra favor.  

Move quietly once you’re inside; don’t let the front door slam behind you when you come in, don’t run up the stairs.  Take your time down the second-floor hallway.  Stay aware of your surroundings, but don’t look too closely into the shadows or the windows in the doors of the other rooms.  

Open the door of the eastern classroom slowly.  There will be a deep shadow in the farthest corner from the door, just under the windows where the light of the streetlamp doesn’t quite clear the sill.  Sit down in the light, on the floor near the corner.  Face into the shadows, but leave a few feet between you and them.  Be still.  Don’t turn around.  You may feel someone watching you, hear a creak like someone settling into a chair; don’t turn around.

The eyes-crawling-up-your-back feeling will fade if you sit and wait.  The door might open and click softly closed again behind you.  They will leave you be if you leave Them be.

If you wait long enough, she will come, should it please her to.  The corner will be empty.  You will blink, and she will be there.  Try not to jump.  

A small, slight figure, slender and pale. Round dark china-doll eyes will study you from the shadows as long cornsilk-blonde hair drapes around her head and shoulders.  Set your offering on the floor between you, and when she nods her approval write your question down and hold the paper out to her.  Don’t let your hand cross into the shadows.  You may feel, for just a moment as she takes it from you, a faint cool touch like fingertips across your wrist, though her child-sized hand does not leave the shadow under the window.  Keep your hands in your lap, out of reach, while she reads.

If you request a favor, remember the rules: be polite, choose your words carefully, gamble with nothing you can’t afford to lose.  If she accepts, she will look up at you and nod.  If she refuses, she will give you back the paper.  Bow politely where you sit before rising to leave.  

She may grant the occasional favor, but most come to her for questions.  The sort of questions with answers hinted at in whispers in dark dorm rooms and notes of caution left on study room desks, that make students who have Seen touch their iron and walk a little faster.  There are risks to asking too much, of course, and every answer has its price, but if you want to Know, she will tell you.  Her voice will sound like a whisper into a porcelain teapot, muted and echoing at the same time; her lips will never seem to move.

(You may notice, as she speaks, that you have yet to see her blink)

When she has answered your question, tell her you appreciate her time– keep your voice low– and that you will remember your agreement.  She will nod, and as you bow and rise to leave you will hear the hiss of tearing paper.  Don’t turn around; keep your pace even as you walk to the door.  As you open the door, you may glimpse from the corner of your eye the movement as she brings her hands to her mouth, or hear the sound of someone chewing as you step into the hall.  If you glance back into the room the reflected light from the window, moving as you close the door, may momentarily cast a shadow on the wall in the far back corner; a shadow seven feet high with deer-like branching horns and long hands with too many fingers.  Don’t stare; doesn’t matter what it looked like, you saw nothing.  Shut your eyes if you have to.  Close the door softly and walk out of the building the same way you came in.  Walk with purpose, but don’t rush; keep your wits about you, as always.

Should you glance back up at the window of the eastern classroom (don’t) you might see a white face in the window for just a moment, a small hand pressed against the glass.

Eyes forward.  Walk back to your dorm; be polite to the shadows but don’t linger.  Make sure the door latches behind you when you enter the building.  Watch the salt line by your door when you get back to your room.  If the milk or butter is gone, set out more before you lock the door for the night.  Put the note aside out of sight (no need to worry your roommate, and you never know when you might need it again).  Check your iron chain again before you go to bed.

Don’t forget where you heard what you learned.  She won’t.  

 x

Change Your Mind - Archie Andrews

Anonymous said:

Would you ever be up to doing an Archie x reader where like each but the reader refuses to do anything because she doesn’t want to do that to Betty but Archie is determined to change her mind and even talks to Betty about it? Just wondering thx xx

Originally posted by riverdalegifsdaily


I’m sorry if this isn’t exactly what you wanted, it’s just where my mind lead me!

The day after the Welcome Back school dance, you spent your time comforting Betty. She had finally, after so long, admitted how she felt about Archie, to Archie. It didn’t go to well, so you and Kevin had been checking in on Betty. You and Kevin talked between visits and both agreed it was best for Betty if neither of you hung out with Archie or Veronica for the time being. So at school on Monday, you stuck to your studies and comforting Betty. You had made it past the first three hours and it was on to your fourth hour History class; the only class you shared with Archie.

You walked in and found your seat quickly, pulling out your notes from the day before. You were so caught up, you didn’t notice when Archie sat beside you. He cleared his throat and you jumped a little in your seat.

 “Oh, Archie hey,” you gave him a weak smile and you could tell he meant business. 

“I was wondering if we could talk,” he whispered and you curled your lip. Part of you expected this, for Archie to ask you how Betty was doing, but you didn’t know how to answer. 

You swallowed hard before saying, “sure, what’s up?” He shuffled his chair closer to yours as you silently wished the bell to ring or for a fire to spontaneously combust.

 “I was wondering-”

“Betty is okay,” you said, before he could say his piece. He opened his mouth again but the bell finally rang. 

“Alright, alright, you can all gossip after class!” You from Archie upon hearing your teacher speak. Hopefully it would be a long lecture that would leave no time for Archie to talk to you. It just wasn’t fair; you had loved Archie for so long but it was Betty who was left heartbroken. It wasn’t fair to her, she deserved love. As you looked at Archie, still wishing and wanting, you felt that you didn’t.

Sadly, your teacher only had a loose lesson plan that resulted in five extra minutes of work-free class time. You internally groaned as Archie leaned towards you. 

“Y/N, I wanted to say that-” You cut him off again, by pressing a finger to his lips. 

“Archie, I told myself that I would be civil, but if try to justify what happened with Betty I will slap you.” You stared at him, trying to hold your serious look. The corner of his mouth quirked upwards slightly and you pulled your finger away from his lips.

 “Nothing will ever justify how I hurt Betty,” he whispered, “but I did it for a reason, Y/N.” 

You raised your eyebrow, “it better be a good reason.” He swallowed nervously and you leaned in a little so the chance someone would overhear wasn’t as great. 

“You’re a great friend Y/N so I feel comfortable telling you this, but I want you to know, before I do, that if you want to hit me you can.” You smiled softly, “it depends, Andrews.” He let out a shaky breath, “I couldn’t be with Betty, because I,” he met your gaze and his breath caught. “I want to be with you, Y/N.”

You heard the bell ring, but you didn’t get up. You just stared into the dark eyes of Archie Andrews and felt sick to your stomach. At some point, you grabbed your bag and walked out of the classroom, with Archie walking behind you. 

“Y/N,” he said, grabbing your arm so you would face him. “Archie, I can’t do this, not right now.” You didn’t pull away despite your words which gave Archie the chance to defend himself. 

“I’m sorry for what I did but I couldn’t lie to myself,” he said and you just shook your head. 

“As much as I want this,” you said gesturing between the two of you, “we can’t. Not after this, after Betty. I can’t lose her as a friend.” 

He stared at you sadly, “there isn’t anything I can do to change your mind?” You pulled your arm free, but Archie didn’t fight back. He just watched as you marched down to the nurse’s office.

You complained of stomach cramps and feeling dizzy and the nurse sent you home without hesitation. She was always sending kids home, even for minor things, so you weren’t shocked when she let you go. When you arrived back at your house, you changed into comfy clothes and crawled under your covers. You just wanted to sleep the rest of the day away, but you knew your body wouldn’t be that forgiving. You tossed and turned, trying to catch up with your racing thoughts but to no avail. You went home around eleven in the morning, it was now three in the afternoon but the need to sleep and de-stress was overwhelming. You heard your phone buzzing with texts, from Kevin, Betty, and Archie. Archie; if it wasn’t for him you wouldn’t be in this mess. If it wasn’t for his boyish charm and warm attitude you wouldn’t have even cared. He was your friend, more than a friend really, but you had Betty to worry about. There wasn’t a chance, even the slightest, that she’d be okay with you and Archie. You pressed your face into the pillow, begging for sleep to take you.

You started to feel your muscles relax and your eyelids finally grow heavy when your phone let out another loud series of buzzes. You let out a groan, clambered out of your bed and checked your phone.

Kev : okay hey, change in plans. Betty said we’re cool with Veronica and Archie

Kev : Oh, she’s talking to Archie. Not looking good…

Kev : nevermind, they hugged.

Kev : we’re not cool with Veronica and Archie anymore

Kev : SHE INVITED CHERYL OVER

You rolled your eyes, wondering how much exactly you missed, but glad that Kevin tired to keep you updated in some way. You exited the chat with Kevin and opened the message Betty sent.

Betty : Hey Y/N, sorry you weren’t feeling well. Me and V talked it over with Archie. We’re all good now! Good luck!

You smiled softly, Betty was always so sweet. You felt a pit in your stomach at the thought of making her mad or upset. You wouldn’t dare be a part of hurting her, you just couldn’t. Whatever Archie could say or might do wasn’t worth losing a friend like Betty Cooper. You reluctantly looked at the messages Archie sent you, and your face instantly sank into a frown.

Archie : Can I see you? Please

Archie : I talked to Betty, I need to see you

Archie is typing…

You : what do you want Archie?

Archie : Can you please open your door?

You looked up, pushing out of your room and to the front door of your house. You paused a moment before opening the door. This was a mistake, but you couldn’t just pretend like nothing happened at school. You’d have to face Archie sooner or later, so why not get it over with now. You reached and opened the door, being met with Archie’s warm brown eyes. 

“Y/N,” he said, and you felt tempted to hug him. 

You fought the urge and said, “you needed to talk to me?”

 He nodded, “I talked to Betty, about what happened and about us.” You shifted your weight on your feet nervously, wondering what Betty told him. “I explained how I felt about you and she told me that it was okay,” he met your gaze, “that she was okay with us.” You took a single step closer to him, and noticed that his eyes traveled from your eyes to your lips.

“You do know that she’s just saying that right,” you said, and Archie nodded slowly. 

“She told me you’d say that,” he said with a small grin. 

“I just don’t feel comfortable with this yet,” you murmured, “I want this, don’t get me wrong.” He stepped towards you, carefully holding your hand in his. 

“I’ve never felt like this before,” he rubbed his thumb over your knuckles, “I’d been willing to wait.” 

You smiled at him softly, “really?”

“Of course,” he said, looking into your eyes, “I’ve waited this long, what’s a little more time?” You smiled softly, looking up at him with fondness.

 “Thank you,” you whispered as you leaned up and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek. You felt your phone buzz in your pocket and you pulled away. 

“You like your phone more than me?” Archie asked somewhat teasingly.

 You smiled as you opened the message from Betty, “not possible Andrews.” You smiled at him and saw the pure joy on his face. 

He squeezed your hand gently, “good. I’d hate to see this fall apart so soon.” You let out a laugh and looked towards your phone screen.

Betty : I hope he changed your mind

You : He did. Thank you.

Essays in Existentialsim: Deaf

deaf. 

Dawn came late over the water, with the first kind of light, all rose and golden and violent, spilling through the city streets and mingling with the neon signs and street lights. From the piers, the boats began to chug along, breaking out among the still waters, beginning the slow churn of the day. The buses zoomed along, kicking up exhaust clouds and stray papers from the day before, all while the subway creaked and crawled along, warming up and shaking off the rust of slumber beneath the giant that slumbered on above the tunnels. 

With a slight chill in the air, the seasons had effectively changed once more, fall quickly on the way out and the bite of winter planting itself firmly in the air, drawing it tight, making it like tiny whips that scratched at lungs and made noses raw. 

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White Lie - M

Kim Namjoon 김남준 - Breakup!au

Warnings - excessive swearing, angst?, smut!!

Word Count - 8.2k+

Summary - “I love you so much and even though it seems rough, I just need to take some time to go figure out my life.” 


Nearing the end of your third year of college, you found your nights were spent in the darkness of your shared apartment searching for jobs. There were weekends wasted away getting drunk on cheap wine and Smirnoff with your roommates and friends after you had all given up on combing through job websites and emails from professors. At the time, summer break had seemed like a blessing and a curse, with a new boyfriend and friends but also seemingly endless rejected applications and days passing doing absolutely nothing.

Your only wish was to get a job to last you through the summer then into your final year of college. Soon enough, you would be venturing into the real world and it was time to start preparing for that day’s arrival. You needed to plan for when you finally were forced to jump ship on childhood and swim to the shore of adulthood—which seemed miles away, out of eyesight.

But your senior year of college brought corporations reaching out to you and not the other way around. So quickly had adulthood become that much closer, and a stable cash flow was making its way into your bank account. Student loans didn’t feel like a demon perched on your shoulders each time you went to class. You were in a perfect relationship with the valedictorian of his class, Kim Namjoon, and with your one-year anniversary seemingly around the corner, you couldn’t help but feel content in the way things had played out for you after years of stress and hard work.

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2

Character/Pairing: Dean x Reader
Location: the Impala
Random Word: tea
Requested by: anonymous

Awake again in the middle of the night, you had heated the kettle and poured the steaming water over a tea bag in your favorite mug. Now you made your way through the dark bunker and pushed the door into the garage open. 

Even the soft steps of your stocking feet echoed in the cavernous space. The Impala was parked in her usual spot, front and center and you smiled instantly as your eyes landed on her. Maybe it was because when you first laid eyes on Sam and Dean, you had awoken in the back seat, confused and hurt, but somehow instantly knowing that you were safe. Dean had been beside you, one of his hands wrapped in gauze and the other pressing a towel to a wound in your leg that was bleeding heavily.

“You’re going to be fine,” he had said, and the gruff quality of his voice was reassuring. Even through your muddled confusion and pain you had fixated on his green eyes, unlike any you had ever seen. You hadn’t been able to stay conscious long but in those few seconds a calm came over you that you had never felt before, and that sense of safety wrapped around you every time you climbed into the Impala.

When you couldn’t sleep you always found yourself wandering out to the garage to sit in that safe space. You knew it didn’t make any logical sense… the Impala sitting in the garage was no safer than you lying in your bed… but without fail, when you crawled into the back with your cup of tea and settled in, breathing in the familiar smell of leather, you found that your muscles would finally release their grip on your bones and your mind would quiet.

But this time when you pulled open the door you were surprised to see that the back seat was already taken…

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Loyalty

Pairing: Reader x Ivar
Warnings: let’s see…death, murder, blood, swearing, NSFW
Summary: Reader knows what Margrethe told Sigurd and wants her to pay for it with Ivar’s help.

This is part one.

Tagging: @squirrelacorngliterfarts @captainpoopweinersoldier @underthenorthstar @mizzvengenz6661 @whenimaunicorn @lordavanti @ivartheboneme @pagan-raider @synnersaint

I broke through the thick brush, jumping and just clearing a few small boulders at the very edge of the forest clearing. I panted heavily, a smile on my face as I made the chase, catching up much quicker than I thought.

I followed close behind the flowing cream dress of Margrethe, she screamed out loud when she turned to look at me over her shoulder. No doubt to see just how close to her I was getting after a good 10 minutes of running. Though she probably knew that already, as my boots pounded into the ground, while she ran barefoot.

With the smile still planted on my now hot face, I got close enough to almost reach out and touch her dress. Instead, I took a chance and lunged out, tackling her to the ground with a hard thud.

She whimpered into the ground, half at my full weight landing on her and half that she was tired of running, I guessed. I caught my breath for a few seconds, breathing in her salty skin and hair. I held onto her thin dress tightly so she wouldn’t get away again.

She really thought she was going to get away from me. From us.

“Ivar! Over here!” I called out into the cool night air, my voice was rasped and scratchy from running. I breathed harshly into the back of Margrethe’s hair, my nose pretty much at the nape of her neck, while I waited for Ivar to show up.

I soon felt the low rumble and thudding of Ivar’s chariot getting closer, a few pebbles bounced lightly next to her blonde hair. I sat up with my knee pressed to her back and just in time to see Ivar shouting at his horse loudly, slapping the reigns like a madman. Which he was.

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