i got like half way through this and decided to make the hand ones so

I’ve decided to tell you guys a story about piracy.

I didn’t think I had much to add to the piracy commentary I made yesterday, but after seeing some of the replies to it, I decided it’s time for this story.

Here are a few things we should get clear before I go on:

1) This is a U.S. centered discussion. Not because I value my non U.S. readers any less, but because I am published with a U.S. publisher first, who then sells my rights elsewhere. This means that the fate of my books, good or bad, is largely decided on U.S. turf, through U.S. sales to readers and libraries.

2) This is not a conversation about whether or not artists deserve to get money for art, or whether or not you think I in particular, as a flawed human, deserve money. It is only about how piracy affects a book’s fate at the publishing house. 

3) It is also not a conversation about book prices, or publishing costs, or what is a fair price for art, though it is worthwhile to remember that every copy of a blockbuster sold means that the publishing house can publish new and niche voices. Publishing can’t afford to publish the new and midlist voices without the James Pattersons selling well. 

It is only about two statements that I saw go by: 

1) piracy doesn’t hurt publishing. 

2) someone who pirates the book was never going to buy it anyway, so it’s not a lost sale.

Now, with those statements in mind, here’s the story.

It’s the story of a novel called The Raven King, the fourth installment in a planned four book series. All three of its predecessors hit the bestseller list. Book three, however, faltered in strange ways. The print copies sold just as well as before, landing it on the list, but the e-copies dropped precipitously. 

Now, series are a strange and dangerous thing in publishing. They’re usually games of diminishing returns, for logical reasons: folks buy the first book, like it, maybe buy the second, lose interest. The number of folks who try the first will always be more than the number of folks who make it to the third or fourth. Sometimes this change in numbers is so extreme that publishers cancel the rest of the series, which you may have experienced as a reader — beginning a series only to have the release date of the next book get pushed off and pushed off again before it merely dies quietly in a corner somewhere by the flies.

So I expected to see a sales drop in book three, Blue Lily, Lily Blue, but as my readers are historically evenly split across the formats, I expected it to see the cut balanced across both formats. This was absolutely not true. Where were all the e-readers going? Articles online had headlines like PEOPLE NO LONGER ENJOY READING EBOOKS IT SEEMS.

Really?

There was another new phenomenon with Blue Lily, Lily Blue, too — one that started before it was published. Like many novels, it was available to early reviewers and booksellers in advanced form (ARCs: advanced reader copies). Traditionally these have been cheaply printed paperback versions of the book. Recently, e-ARCs have become common, available on locked sites from publishers. 

BLLB’s e-arc escaped the site, made it to the internet, and began circulating busily among fans long before the book had even hit shelves. Piracy is a thing authors have been told to live with, it’s not hurting you, it’s like the mites in your pillow, and so I didn’t think too hard about it until I got that royalty statement with BLLB’s e-sales cut in half. 

Strange, I thought. Particularly as it seemed on the internet and at my booming real-life book tours that interest in the Raven Cycle in general was growing, not shrinking. Meanwhile, floating about in the forums and on Tumblr as a creator, it was not difficult to see fans sharing the pdfs of the books back and forth. For awhile, I paid for a service that went through piracy sites and took down illegal pdfs, but it was pointless. There were too many. And as long as even one was left up, that was all that was needed for sharing. 

I asked my publisher to make sure there were no e-ARCs available of book four, the Raven King, explaining that I felt piracy was a real issue with this series in a way it hadn’t been for any of my others. They replied with the old adage that piracy didn’t really do anything, but yes, they’d make sure there was no e-ARCs if that made me happy. 

Then they told me that they were cutting the print run of The Raven King to less than half of the print run for Blue Lily, Lily Blue. No hard feelings, understand, they told me, it’s just that the sales for Blue Lily didn’t justify printing any more copies. The series was in decline, they were so proud of me, it had 19 starred reviews from pro journals and was the most starred YA series ever written, but that just didn’t equal sales. They still loved me.

This, my friends, is a real world consequence.

This is also where people usually step in and say, but that’s not piracy’s fault. You just said series naturally declined, and you just were a victim of bad marketing or bad covers or readers just actually don’t like you that much.

Hold that thought. 

I was intent on proving that piracy had affected the Raven Cycle, and so I began to work with one of my brothers on a plan. It was impossible to take down every illegal pdf; I’d already seen that. So we were going to do the opposite. We created a pdf of the Raven King. It was the same length as the real book, but it was just the first four chapters over and over again. At the end, my brother wrote a small note about the ways piracy hurt your favorite books. I knew we wouldn’t be able to hold the fort for long — real versions would slowly get passed around by hand through forum messaging — but I told my brother: I want to hold the fort for one week. Enough to prove that a point. Enough to show everyone that this is no longer 2004. This is the smart phone generation, and a pirated book sometimes is a lost sale.

Then, on midnight of my book release, my brother put it up everywhere on every pirate site. He uploaded dozens and dozens and dozens of these pdfs of The Raven King. You couldn’t throw a rock without hitting one of his pdfs. We sailed those epub seas with our own flag shredding the sky.

The effects were instant. The forums and sites exploded with bewildered activity. Fans asked if anyone had managed to find a link to a legit pdf. Dozens of posts appeared saying that since they hadn’t been able to find a pdf, they’d been forced to hit up Amazon and buy the book.

And we sold out of the first printing in two days.

Two days.

I was on tour for it, and the bookstores I went to didn’t have enough copies to sell to people coming, because online orders had emptied the warehouse. My publisher scrambled to print more, and then print more again. Print sales and e-sales became once more evenly matched.

Then the pdfs hit the forums and e-sales sagged and it was business as usual, but it didn’t matter: I’d proven the point. Piracy has consequences.

That’s the end of the story, but there’s an epilogue. I’m now writing three more books set in that world, books that I’m absolutely delighted to be able to write. They’re an absolute blast. My publisher bought this trilogy because the numbers on the previous series supported them buying more books in that world. But the numbers almost didn’t. Because even as I knew I had more readers than ever, on paper, the Raven Cycle was petering out. 

The Ronan trilogy nearly didn’t exist because of piracy. And already I can see in the tags how Tumblr users are talking about how they intend to pirate book one of the new trilogy for any number of reasons, because I am terrible or because they would ‘rather die than pay for a book’. As an author, I can’t stop that. But pirating book one means that publishing cancels book two. This ain’t 2004 anymore. A pirated copy isn’t ‘good advertising’ or ‘great word of mouth’ or ‘not really a lost sale.’

That’s my long piracy story. 

wingardium-letmefuckyou  asked:

Hey, I love your gods&monsters series, could you write something about Apollo? ^Preferably something with a positive vibe, something romantic... But that's totally up to you, anything about Apollo makes me happy

Apollo has many sons.

He only ever has nine daughters.

~

He has his first when he’s young, too young to know better.

Daphne is beautiful and coy, and leads him on a merry chase. He catches her, and finally silences her laughing mouth with his own. They sleep together, and she leaves bite marks up his neck.

Her father, the river god Peneus, finds out about them. Apollo had not known it was secret. Peneus is a hard, selfish god, and he slits Daphne’s throat for her impurity. Better a dead daughter then one who does not listen.

Apollo finds out too late. He arrives to Daphne dead on the side of her father’s riverbank, stomach swollen in a way Apollo doesn’t remember it being the last time he saw her, which was – which was – it couldn’t have been that long, could it?

He cuts open her stomach, throat too tight to call for his sister’s help, heart too tight to bear anyone else looking at Daphne’s slack, bloody face.

The child is still warm.

The child is still alive.

He cannot bring himself to bury Daphne, to sentence her to an afterlife beneath the earth. Instead, he transforms her into a large laurel tree, so her beauty will remain eternal. He presses a hand against her trunk and says, “My hair will have you, my lyre will have you, my quiver will have you.” Apollo looks down at the baby, too small, tucking into the crook of his arm. “Our daughter will have you.”

He calls her Calliope. Their daughter weaves laurel leaves into her hair every day of her life.

~

When he is older, but not wiser, he gets drunk on the top of Olympus. It is not the first time, nor the last, but this time it is different.

This time Hestia, goddess of the hearth, of warmth, of family, places her delicate hand around the back of his neck and leads him to her rooms.

Months later, he lands his chariot, the sun finally set. His arms are shaking, and his legs are covered from burns when the sun grew tired and tried to consume him, but could not. Hestia stands before him, something held in her arms. “What’s wrong?” he asks roughly, throat dry and the skin of his lips cracking. Hestia rarely leaves Olympus.

“I am no mother,” she tells him, and he doesn’t understand until she places a warm, squirming bundle in his arms. He holds it to his chest automatically. “Her name is Terpsichore.”

She leaves before he has the chance to question her. He looks down, and the baby has his golden eyes and her dark hair. “Hello, little one.”

Calliope is fully grown now. Apollo leaves Terpsichore in her care, and promises to come when called.

“Yes, Father,” Calliope says, rolling her eyes as her little sister grabbing fistfuls of her curly hair. There’s an ink smudge across her face, and her home is bursting with books. He should really talk to Athena about letting Calliope use one of her libraries.

He kisses both their foreheads before leaving.

~

Apollo falls in love with a Spartan prince, graceful and strong and with a wide, pretty mouth. He falls in love with a mind that can match him, with a smile that leaves him breathless. Hyacinth captures his affections and attentions utterly, and for a few short years Apollo is enchanted, for a few short years Apollo feels a love deep in his chest that is only surpassed by the love he has for his sister.

Then Hyacinth is killed.

He shows up at his daughters’ door, and Calliope and Terpsichore take one look at him and usher him inside. He can’t bring himself to speak, but he’s covered in blood that isn’t his own, is pale and shaken and mourning.

They clean him and care for him and settle him to bed, although he cannot bring himself to sleep.

Less than a week later, there is a mortal woman there looking for him. Her eyes are red, but she stands tall and her lips are pressed into a straight line. A toddler who shares her dark coloring clutches her skirt. “I am the Princess of Sparta, and wife of Hyacinth.”

Apollo hadn’t known Hyacinth had a wife. He hadn’t asked. Surely he would have noticed – but then again, perhaps not. Love makes people stupid. “I am sorry for your loss.”

“As I am sorry for yours,” she says in return, which surprises him. “Sparta must have a prince. I am to be remarried.” She brings the little girl forward, and she can’t be more than a couple years old. “This is Urania, the child of myself and my husband. I have been ordered to kill her.”

Apollo flinches. He knows such things are done, but – she is Hyacinth’s daughter. “I will take her.”

She smiles. “I thought you might.” She kisses the girl on both cheeks, hands her to Apollo, then leaves as quickly as she’d came.

Urania watches them with big liquid eyes that she got from her mother. He stays with his daughters for a year after that, playing with Urania and watching Terpsichore dance and listening to Calliope’s beautiful poetry. Urania loves the stars. She stares up at them each night, and Apollo patiently explains the name of each one.

When she is fully grown, he begs a piece of ambrosia off Hestia and feeds it to her.

Urania is his daughter as surely as if his blood ran through her veins. He cannot bear to watch her age and die.

~

Marpessa chooses Ida over him, but it is too late. She already swells with his child, and he could use that to keep her. He could force her to stay at his side, she loves him, she said so, it would not be such a cruel thing.

But she is not wrong in her assessment. Apollo is immortal, and will not grow old with her, will not change with her, will not die with her. Ida will.

There’s fear on her face, and he thinks she deserves it, for proclaiming to love him and choosing another. But he is not interested in keeping her captive for a lifetime.

“Have the child, and give it to me,” he commands, “and I will leave you to your life.”

Ida is furious in his jealousy that Marpessa will bear a child for Apollo before she bears a child for him, so there is that comfort, at least.

Artemis delivers the child to ensure it goes smoothly. She’s beaming as she holds her niece. “What will you call her?”

“You choose,” he says, running the back of his finger over the babe’s soft cheek.

His sister considers the squalling child for a long moment before she says, “I think you should name her Thalia.”

“Thalia it is,” he says.

She’s mischievous, and reminds him of himself on his worst days. She grows, and pulls pranks on nymphs and deities. Her older sisters are constantly straining to keep her out of worse trouble.

He gets a frantic message from Calliope that Thalia has gone missing, and he eventually finds her at the edge of a scorched battlefield, the soldiers long gone but the bodies and stench remaining. He’s furious at her for going to a place so dangerous, but when he marches up to her he sees something that he hadn’t expected.

She’s hallway through a story about pranking a wood nymph that he knows is at least half lies and a quarter exaggeration. Curled up on the ground, clutching his stomach as he laughs so hard he can’t breathe, is Ares.

Apollo hasn’t seen the tormented god of war this carefree since he was a child.

Thalia finally notices him, and cuts herself off, paling. “Oh, uh. Hi Dad.”

Ares is downright giggling. “Hello Thalia,” Apollo crosses his arms and glares, “You shouldn’t go wandering away from your sisters.” She winces and nods, ducking her head to look up at him through her eyelashes, doing her best to look contrite and innocent.

It might have worked, if Apollo hadn’t taught her that look himself.

He sits down on the ground next to Ares, who doesn’t acknowledge his presence beyond shifting enough to use Apollo’s thigh as his pillow. “Well,” Apollo says, “keep going.”

Thalia lights up and launches back into the story, and when she finishes she continues into another which is mostly true and somehow even more ridiculous.

~

Because he’s an idiot with a death wish, Apollo ends up spending a month with Hecate in the underworld. He stumbles out one night when she falls asleep, because he feels if he doesn’t leave now there’s a possibility that he never will.

One of the most horrifying moments of his life is looking for the way out, and finding Hades instead. The god of death looks to him, walking around naked in his realm, to the direction he came from, and says, “That was you? Are you crazy?”

“It … it was a good time,” he says faintly.

“Obviously,” Hades shakes his head, and slices his hand down in the air in front of them, creating a doorway for Apollo out of his realm.

Apollo gives him a clumsy salute and steps through.

Roughly a year later, he’s playing his lyre when a little girl with black skin and grey hair and eyes appears in front of him. It’s terrifying enough that he accidentally snaps one of his strings.

“Lady Styx,” he says, voice higher pitched than normal. “Is there something I can help you with?”

The child snorts and reaches her hands into absolutely nothing and pulls out a baby. She holds it out to him. “Hecate says this is your problem now.”

Improbably, the babe already has a mouth full of too-sharp teeth. Her eyes shift between every color, unable to decide, and there is something a little too knowing about her face for one so young. Artemis says he too was born knowing too much.

A child of Apollo and Hecate can only be a mistake, something that will never fit quite well among others of her own kind.

He sighs and take the baby. “Very well.”

“I like the name Clio,” the child goddess says before leaving him.

Thalia tells him it’s too small and to give it back. Urania is fascinated, and takes over most of the child’s care, which is likely for the best since Calliope is neck deep into a new epic, and would be cross if she needed to pull her attention from it to rear a child.

As Clio ages, she stays just as unsettling and strange. Hephaestus shows up around the time she starts breaking into Athena’s libraries, even though stunts like that get people worse than killed. “I don’t know why she gave her to me,” Apollo says as they watch the teenager devouring a stolen tome on the history of the Persian Empire. “Hecate raised you, I don’t understand why she didn’t want to raise her actual daughter.”

“You’re a better parent than she is,” he says thoughtfully. Apollo gives him an unimpressed look, but he says, “I’m serious. Your girls are turning out to be quite lovely – all of them.”

“Of course they are,” he says, nose in the air, but grins when Hephaestus elbows him the side.

By the time she’s an adult, Clio is easily one of the most accomplished scholars to ever exist. She and Athena regularly get into academic debates that last weeks, and scare off anyone from daring to come closer.

She stays strange, and too smart, and Apollo loves her utterly.

~

Apollo is lying on the beach when a large wave overtakes him and drags him into the sea. He struggles for the surface, but can’t seem to shake the waves, and is dragged to the sea floor. He’s a god, so he won’t suffocate, but he’s terrified when the water drags him down to Poseidon’s palace and deposits him in front of his wife. “Apollo,” she says, “I can see what your daughters will become.”

He has no idea what she’s talking about. “Excuse me?”

Amphitrite grabs his jaw and pulls him closer. He doesn’t dare resist. She looks into his eyes, then smirks. “The god of prophecy doesn’t know that which he has wrought. How … ironic.”

“Is it?” he wonders. He really hopes she doesn’t kill him.

“Quite,” she smirks, and with a flick of her wrist she’s naked before him. “I wish for one of your daughters to be mine as well. Lay with me.”

“Uh,” he says eloquently, because Amphitrite has never given her husband any children, he hadn’t even known she could. If he sleeps with her, Poseidon might kill him, regardless of how many people the god of the sea sleeps with that aren’t his wife. But if he refuses her, she might kill him, and it’s not like having sex with Amphitrite is any sort of hardship. She’s as gorgeous as she is terrifying. “Okay.”

He’s deposited back on the shore the next day, feeling oddly used.

If Poseidon has any opinions on Apollo knocking up his wife, he doesn’t voice them.

Amphitrite doesn’t foist the baby upon him as soon as she’s born. Instead years pass, and one day a dark skinned, amber eyed sea god shows up at his door. There’s a teenager at his side, who has Apollo’s coloring and Amphitrite’s bone structure, and hair that shimmers golden-green in sunlight. “Glaucus,” Apollo greets warily, “and who might this be?”

“I call her Erato,” Glaucus says, “I’ve raised her since birth. It’s time for her to join her sisters.”

Erato is not as terrifying as her mother. Instead there’s a sweetness about her that she must have gotten from Glaucus. She’s shy at first, and spends many days looking out into the sea. But his daughters are persistent, and soon she’s laughing and joining them. There’s something dreamy about her, and she loves love, writes romantic ballads and beautiful poems, so much so that Aphrodite commends her talent.

Erato is also the most like him in the area of her love life, meaning she leaves behind a constant trail of heartbroken men and women.

Calliope complains about the constant wailing around their home, and Clio proves she has some of her mother’s talent with magic when she casts an unplotable spell around their home so former lovers stop following Erato home. Of course, she forgets to tell both Apollo and her sisters about this, and it’s very confusing for everyone until Clio remembers to tell them where the house is.

His daughters’ home is a place of constant music, poetry, and literature. He thinks he’s starting to suspect what Amphitrite was talking about.

~

Not all hunts are easy things.

Apollo feels the moment his sister is wounded, the arrow through her abdomen as painful for him as it is for her. He’s in his chariot, and he can’t leave it, if he leaves his chariot unattended the sun will consume it, and then consume the earth. “Calliope!” he snaps, and his eldest daughter appears by his side.

“Father?” she asks, huddling into him and away from the sun. “What’s going on?”

“Artemis is hurt, I have to help,” he says urgently, and places the reins into her hands. “You can do this.”

She pales, but steps forward, keeping a white knuckled grip on the chariot. “Go.”

He kisses his forehead, and goes to his sister. Her huntresses have set up an honor guard around her, defending and dying as cruel faced giants draws closer. “ARES!” he screams, and he doesn’t know what they’re fighting for, what this war is about, but it doesn’t matter. “WE NEED YOU!”

The god of war appears, and he’s clearly come from some other battle, covered in mud and other worse things. He throws himself into the battle, but it’s not until they gain more aid that the tides turn in their favor.

He first sees Erato on the field, water swirling around her as she slices through them all, the power of her mother making her golden eyes glow. Clio is at her back, the glittering magic Hecate passed on to her filling her hands.

Thalia has long curved knives flying from her fingers, and all who face her don’t figure out they’re dead until she’s already left them behind. Urania is letting loose arrows against the giants and though she’s not his by blood, not a goddess by birth, none would know it watching each of her arrows hit true and take down another enemy.

Terpsichore uses her honed abilities of dance differently here on the battlefield, twirling and ducking around enemies with her sword flashing as it slices through all who go against her. Celestial fire licks up the sword, and the daughter of Hestia and Apollo is laughing as she dances through the battlefield.

He wants to yell at them, to tell them to get off the battlefield, to get to safety. But it is thanks to them that the fight is being won, so he says nothing.

Ares looks around, grimaces, and catches Apollo’s eye before he disappears from the battle. They must be invoking his name. Apollo is only grateful he managed to stay as long as he did.

The giants are all dead by the time Apollo manages to make it to his sister’s side. She’s pale and covered in blood, her huntresses seated around her and trying to stop the bleeding. “What were you thinking?” Apollo demands, grabbing her hand and pushing her hair from her forehead. Terpsichore comes forward and lays her burning sword against the wound, sealing and cauterizing it at once. Both Apollo and Artemis scream

“They – took – a – child,” she pants, leaning in for his touch, for his comfort, and he has never been able to deny her anything. He pulls her up, biting back a scream at the pain that rips through them both, and props her up against his chest. “A – nymph’s child. Zeus’s child. They killed – it’s mother. That – that sort of injustice will – will not be – tolerated.” She lays her head back against his shoulder, tears leaking from the corner of her eyes, and Apollo almost wishes the battle were not over, because he wants to murder something.

“I’ll get it,” Erato says, and a moment later she returns with a toddler in her arms. She has the copper skin of Zeus, and pale blonde hair. “What do we do now? Zeus does not care for his children.”

“I think it’s time you became a big sister,” Thalia says, and Erato looks stricken. “Right Dad?”

He looks to his sister, who nods. “I can think of no better place for her. She cannot stay with me – a hunting party is not place for children.”

“Very well,” he sighs. “Does she have a name?”

The girl attempts to hide behind Erato’s hair, then says, “I am Euterpe.”

“Welcome, Euterpe,” he says.

It’s then that the sun finally sets, and Calliope stumbles into existence next to them. She’s covered in deep, bleeding burns, but it’s not as bad he feared it would be. She’s certainly faired better at her first time driving the chariot than he had. “What’s happening? Is everything all right?”

“We have a new sister,” Thalia says brightly, even as Clio rushes forward to tend to her burns.

Euterpe, thankfully, seems to inherit none of Zeus’s madness. She has a singing voice like a clear bell, and soon surpasses even Calliope’s talent with the lyre.

He knows, technically, that Euterpe is his half-sister. But it takes him no time at all to regard her as his daughter, to love her with same simple ferocity as he loves her sisters.

~

For a while, all is well, is quiet. His daughters are all fully grown, accomplished and beautiful.

Then Demeter corners him when he’s walking through quiet city and pins him against an alley wall. “If Amphitrite thinks she can one up me over this,” the goddess hisses, “she’s sorely mistaken.”

At least this time he knows what’s going on when Demeter starts pulling her dress off. “You can’t raise the child,” he says. He’s not adverse to laying with Demeter, although at this rate it looks like there will be less laying and more standing against a rough alley wall. But Demeter only knows how to love in a way that crushes all it touches. He won’t let her do that to his child.

“Fine,” she snaps, “Now get moving.”

He’s vaguely terrified the whole time, and it mostly reminds him of his month with Hecate. He’s left alone and naked in the alleyway an hour later.

Nine months later, a baby is delivered to his door by a nervous wood nymph. His daughter still has the squashed appearance of a freshly born baby. “She didn’t waste any time,” he comments, settling her into the crook of his arms. “Does she have a name?”

“Polyhymnia, my lord,” the wood nymph says, then bows before fleeing.

He brings her to the home where all his daughters live.

She grows, and she’s the spitting image of Demeter, of Persephone back when she answered to the name Kore. Her voice is lower than Euterpe’s, but just as pretty and when they sing together it’s the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard. She’s quiet, and thoughtful, her big brown eyes watching all around her with a measured stare.

Polyhymnia asks after her mother, something none of the others had done, and Apollo doesn’t know what to say. The truth is too callous, but he can’t bear to lie to her. Instead he begs an audience with Persephone, and says, “Your sister asks after the mother you share. I don’t know what to tell her.”

Persephone has no advice to offer, but she starts spending some of her time outside of the underworld with Polyhymnia. It is enough, and her questions stop, and Apollo tries not to feel guilty that he never really answered them.

~

Cassandra is unlike any woman he’s ever met, unlike any person he’s ever met, and the flames of love and passion burn inside him in a way they haven’t since his Hyacinth died.

She’s bull headed and irritating, and whenever he tries to complain about it Artemis rolls her eyes and his daughters laugh at him. He supposes he’s not doing a very good job hiding that he’s in love with her. Not even from her, because at one point she crossly asks if he’s ever planning to do anything with her, or if she should accept the offer from the butcher’s son.

They don’t leave her house for five days.

She is curious, hungry for knowledge, hungrier for it then she is of him. She wants to know impossible things, wants to be an impossible thing, and so Apollo laughs and takes her hand and says, “I will make you a bargain. I will give you the gift of prophecy, if you will grant me the gift of your hand.”

He’s never take a bride before. He hasn’t wanted to.

Cassandra is screaming and laughing, and she throws her arms around his neck and kisses him until she’s breathless. He takes it as a yes.

That’s when everything goes horribly, incredibly wrong.

It’s too much, all the horror she sees is too much, and Apollo tries to tell her to focus on the good, to see the happiness of the future. But she can’t, gets too caught up in too many wars, and she wastes away in front of his eyes even as her stomach swells.

He tries to take back the gift, tries to save her, but he can’t. It cannot be ungiven, and his headstrong, vivacious lover fades before his eyes. He only manages to alter it, to change it so no one believes the horrible things she cries to prevent the horror people feel when she looks at them and screams the way that they’ll die.

Artemis helps deliver their child, but halfway through her face goes pinched and worried, and Apollo knows that Cassandra won’t make it.

“I’m sorry,” he weeps, kissing her gaunt face, feeling the sharpness of her cheekbones under his lips, “I’m so sorry, I didn’t know this would happen. I didn’t want this to happen.”

She looks at him with glassy eyes, barely reacts when Artemis places their child on her chest. There’s a growing pool of blood under her, but she can’t be saved, she will die, here, now.

Apollo wonders if she saw this coming.

She blinks, and meets his gaze with a sharpness and awareness he hasn’t seen for a long time. “She is your last daughter,” Cassandra says, “Melpomene is the last daughter you will have.”

He kisses her, his last chance to do so.

She’s dead before his lips leaves hers.

Apollo tries to flee, to run from the claws tearing apart his heart, but Artemis doesn’t let him. She yanks him back and pushes Melpomene into his arms. “You can’t leave,” she says harshly, “She needs you. Your daughter needs you. You’re not allowed to run.”

He crumples, leaning his head onto his sister’s shoulder as he sobs, and her calloused hand grasps the back of his neck. Melpomene is stuck between them, soft and warm and alive.

Time passes.

Melpomene is Thalia’s other half, her best friend, and they do everything together. Her dark hair is a mass of unruly curls just like her mother, her laughter is just like her mother’s.

She, like her sisters, is his pride and his joy.

~

Apollo has nine daughters

Calliope, who reigns over written epics.

Terpsichore, who reigns over dance.

Urania, who reigns over astronomy.

Thalia, who reigns over comedy.

Clio, who reigns over history.

Erato, who reigns over love poetry.

Euterpe, who reigns over song.

Polyhymnia, who reigns over hymns.

Melpomene, who reigns over tragedy.

They are known as the Muses.


gods and monster series, part xxi

read more of the gods and monsters series here

How I cope with my Emotional Nonsense

My brain comes with the fun little perk of really intense, overwhelming emotional reactions. My emotions are a series of on/off switches and it’s either blinding painful intensity or complete numbness. So here’s how I try to manage it:

  • Clean my room. Not like… calm gentle reorganization. No. I dump as much as I think I can handle onto the floor and put it back in its place. It’s intense. There’s usually loud angry music. Things almost always end up only slightly cleaner than they were but I feel way fuckin better afterwards.
  • Play video games. Preferably those ones where you’re way OP and just slice through enemies like butter. Or something you just plain can’t lose at, like Stardew Valley.
  • Watch vine compilations. Seriously, just search RIP Vine in youtube, click on the mix playlist, and you’re set forever.
  • Listen to podcasts. I like audio dramas. If you want recs, message me. I’ve got a list.
  • Take a walk. I’m confident in my ability to keep myself safe in doing so, so I will start walking and just not stop until I calm down. Usually I’m doing better after about half an hour for me.
  • Make something. Draw, knit, write, paint, make a fucking hand turkey. No one cares if it’s good. And even if I decide to throw it out, I usually feel better once I’ve actually made a thing.
  • Blanket fort. Really. It helps. Use a paper towel tube as a fake sword. Just… be silly and childish and imaginative. Those aren’t bad things to be.
  • Cut/dye my hair. Usually this takes a little planning but I always wind up deciding to do it during a breakdown of some sort.
  • Eat something. Sometimes a bag of gummy worms is all it takes to remember that the world isn’t entirely awful.
  • Go back to bed. Sometimes, I just don’t have the energy to put up with the world’s bullshit. And that’s okay. It’s not wise to pick this one every time, but sometimes the world can wait. I bury myself under the covers, put my phone on do not disturb, and either take a nap or listen to music.

Sometimes, I’m stuck. I can’t distract myself, and I can feel the wave coming, about to pull me under and turn me into a massive shitlord. Because I am an absolutely AWFUL person to be around when I’m in emotion-hell. Believe me, I hate myself during it too. Haven’t quite figured out what to do with it yet, but if I’m with someone I try to warn them that I’m really upset and just need a moment to freak out a bit. Then I try to just… let it pass. It’s a bad idea to talk to people you have strong feelings about, no matter the feelings, when you’re in this. Impulses are hard to manage. I tend to just ramble my feelings in a private post on tumblr or I talk to someone I don’t know that well and consequently don’t have strong feelings about. Just… keep breathing. It passes.

So yeah. Things I try to keep in mind:

  • Nothing is permanent. Our lives are short and, on a cosmic scale, relatively insignificant. The decisions I make aren’t actually that important, so I may as well have fun.
  • Our lives are the most important thing we experience. This is how we are, right now. It is so very real, so very vivid and meaningful and shapes future iterations of us. We are very much here.
  • Two opposing statements can be true at the same time. We are complex, beautiful creatures capable of complex planning and deep thought. We’re also  bumbling apes who will ingest toxic substances because we like how they feel and frequently giggle at the thought of farts.
  • People in general are too busy worrying about what everyone else thinks of them to actually notice that a bit of someone else’s hair is sticking up or that their shirt was on inside out. It happens. We’ve all had those days.
  • There is no such thing as grown-ups. Only people who have gotten very good at pretending they know what they’re doing. We learn the rules by conformity, by watching everyone else and doing what they’re doing, even if we don’t actually know what the fuck is going on. It’s okay. There’s probably someone else just as confused as you in the same room. You’ll be fine, and if you’re too lost to pretend you know what’s going on, either ask someone who looks like they know, or bullshit it and hope for the best.
  • There is good in the world. If you need evidence, look at this dog. All dogs are good.
;the touch of silk (m)

pairing: min yoongi x reader, sugar daddy! yoongi, vampire! yoongi
genre/warnings: smut, romance, blood mentions, but nothing too crazy, dirty talk, dom! Yoongi
words: 14,221

:: summary— in a world where vampires coexist with the living, there are many humans looking for a cheap thrill…you’re ashamed to admit you’re curious too, putting to good use a dating app you find…but Min Yoongi is nothing like you imagined a vampire to be…

Keep reading

Missing Link

Missing Link (m)

Word count: 6.3k

Genre/Warnings: smut, angst, fluff, talk of masterbation and language

Pairing: Yoongi x Reader

Summary: You catch Yoongi playing with himself before a night out and some part of you wants to join him. That’s crazy though, he’s your best friend… Right?


“Yoongi~”

“Yes, Y/N?” Yoongi said as he watched tv, happy to be home after a long day with you. 


“Will you please go with me tonight? I don’t want to go by myself.”

Yoongi sighed on the couch next to you. “Y/N, i’m too old to be going to these college parties.”

Keep reading

Never Her

Originally posted by inlovewithacriminals

Pairing: Loki x Reader (ft. the Avengers)

Content/Warnings: Angst; fluff

Words: 1544

A/N: So my Soulmate AU writing extravaganza begins with Loki, my MCU husband. I’ll probably end up writing these Soulmate AUs to be a little longer. This was a request for @bi-pie67 for 7. Your internal voice is the voice of your soulmate’s, rather than your own.


“Are you sure bringing Loki back to the Tower is a good idea?” You asked Thor dubiously. Steve seemed to reflect your sentiment, looking just as doubtful.

“I assure you, Loki will not get into any trouble,” Thor said. “He seems to have had a change of heart, and my father has ensured that he will be unable to use magic while here, at least until we are sure he is trustworthy.”

“I’m going to trust you on this, Point Break,” Tony said. “But if he destroys my tower again, I won’t be happy.”

“I am certain Loki will do no such thing,” Thor said. “I shall bring him here tomorrow, is that okay?” Everyone shrugged, still looking uneasy with the whole idea, though nobody raised any objection to that. “Marvelous! He shall be here tomorrow, then.”

Clint snorted. Out of everyone, he was, understandably, the least excited. “Can’t wait.”

You hadn’t actually been around for the whole Loki debacle, and admittedly you were a little curious to meet Thor’s brother. Some rather colorful tales had been told by the rest of the Avengers about Thor’s ‘crazy adopted brother’, but you wanted to find out for yourself. Plus, as someone who was still waiting to find their soulmate, there was always the little ‘what if it’s him’ in the back of your mind. Your soulmate, at least from what you always heard in your internal voice, sounded British… almost. You couldn’t put your finger on the accent, but it was similar to Thor’s.

“Up and at ‘em, sunshine!” Tony’s voice came over the speakers in the tower the following morning. “Good ol’ Reindeer Games will be here today, so we gotta make sure everyone is ready. You know, just in case he goes rabid reindeer on our asses. That’s all. Over and out.”

Groaning, you rolled out of bed, pulling on some presentable clothes and making sure you were ready to meet Thor and Loki. Thor had informed everyone that he would arrive around noon, giving everyone ample time to get ready. You made your way to the kitchen, grabbing a cup of coffee that Steve had made and sitting at the table.

“Sleep okay?” Steve asked, glancing up from his own cup.

“Yeah,”  You nodded. “Thanks for the coffee.”

“No problem. What do you think about Loki coming to stay here?” He asked you.

You shrugged. “Well, I’ve never met the guy, so it’s hard to say. Wary, but curious.”

“All I can say is, don’t get your hopes up too high,” He said with a snort. “I don’t trust the guy.”

“Guess we’ll have to find out,” You said.

Keep reading

Je T’aime, Mon Cher Eddie

For @time-for-tozier who came up with this idea, I hope you like it!!

Eddie watched as the clock’s minute hand moved towards the number 12, making a ticking noise as it wet round. He was so fixated that he jumped when the bell rang, the cue for people around him to pack up and leave the room.

He slammed his yellow note book shut and shoved it, and his pencil, into his backpack, before running out of the classroom to meet up with the other losers.

He sprinted down the hallways, bumping into several people and nearly tripping twice, before he reached the door. He swung the door open and walked to the bike rack around the side of the school.

“Hey Eddie,” Ben called to him as he walked over.

“Hey guys,” Eddie took in the positions of his friends. Mike was sat on the ground, fiddling with his bike, it kept breaking. Ben was sat on a bench about a meter away from the bike rack, a book resting open on his lap. Beverly was sitting on her bike seat, hands already gripping the handlebars as if she was in a hurry to go. Bill and Stan were stood next to each other, however, Eddie noticed, much too close to be considered normal. And Richie, well, he was being his usual self. He was hung upside down on one the metal bannister of a nearby stair case, dark hair brushing the ground.

“Eds! You finally arrived!” Richie near shouted bouncing his way back over to the group. “Can we go now?”

The losers collectively rolled their eyes and grabbed their bikes, climbing on and cycling towards the woods.

Their was a field there that they had claimed as their new hangout. It was completely secluded and surrounded by trees. In the spring, the ground was covered in daisies, Richie loved it, and prided himself on making “the best daisy chains in Derry”. In the Summer and Autumn, the grass was green and soft. And in the Winter, the Loser’s decided to just hand out at each other’s houses instead, with the careful avoidance of the Tozier, Marsh and Kaspbrak residences.

They were all laying on the grass. Beverly had her head resting on Ben’s lap as he sat cross legged playing with her hair. Stan and Bill were laying shoulder to shoulder, Mike was spread out like a starfish, and Richie was resting his head on Eddie’s stomach.

They were peaceful.

“Richie, I couldn’t help but to notice that you were in my French class this morning.” Bev spoke up, breaking the silence.

She knew there had to be a reason behind his sudden appearance in the class. She knew that she took it so that one day, when she was old enough, she could move to France and never look back. She knew that Stan’s parents wanted him to focus more on his religion. She knew that Ben was already fluent in the language and didn’t need to take a class. She knew that Bill found it too hard because of his stutter. She knew that Mike and Eddie simply didn’t want to take the subject, seeing no reason for it.

So what was Richie’s reason?

“You take French?” Eddie chuckled, sitting up. “Since when?”

“Well, obviously since this morning dipshit. I already know how to say some stuff. Such as,” Richie cleared his throat. “Ta mère aime ça dans le cul.”

Bev’s head shot up. “Beep Beep Richie.”

“W-what did he say?” Bill asked.

“Do you really want me to tell you?” Bev whined. The rest of the group, bar Richie and Ben, nodded. She sighed. “He said “your mother likes it up the ass.”

Groans of “Richie”, and “really?” We passed around as Richie smirked.

“Hey Rich? Do you know anything that’s not rude?” Eddie asked.

“Umm yeah,” Richie replied. “Eddie, tu as de beaux yeux.” (You have beautiful eyes)

“What does that mean?”

“Ahh, my dear Eddie Spaghetti, that is a secret.”

“Don’t call me that. Bev? Can you tell me what he said?” Eddie asked Beverly, who was staring at Richie with a strange look on her face. She stared for a few more moments before turning to Eddie.

“Sorry Eddie, I don’t know what he said.”

————

The next morning Richie bounced into school with too much energy for 7am on a Tuesday.

“Good morning, mes petits choux.” He smiled, leaning his chin on Eddie’s head.

“Richie, if I may ask, why did you just call us ‘your little cabbages’?” Ben questioned.

“I did it because I felt like it.” Just then the bell rang for class.

“Um, Richie? Can I talk you you for a sec? In private?” Beverly asked. Richie nodded, he loved the girl like family, they both dealt with similar issues in their home lives. “Do you like Eddie? You know, as in like him?”

Richie blushed. “No, where did you get that idea?”

“You’re always hugging him, you never stop staring at him, and yesterday you told him, in French, that he had beautiful eyes.”

“You said you didn’t understand what I said!”

“Well I lied, I guessed that you didn’t really want me to tell him, otherwise you would have simply said it in English.” She sighed. “Richie, what’s the real reason you started taking French class? You know I’m not going to judge you.”

Richie sighed. “I’ve been dealing with so much at home and then I come to school and he,” Richie leant back against the wall. “He makes me feel safe, and, I dunno, loved I guess? I just wanted a way to tell him how I feel and explain what’s happening at home. But it was way too painful to say it all in English, so I thought it’d be easier to tell him in another language.”

“Oh, Richie.” Beverly wrapped him in a hug. “That’s so sweet.” Richie gave her a half smile, and they began walking to their first class, which happened to be French.

———-

Eddie was just dozing off when he hears the taps at his window. At first he was scared that it was a leper, or a murderer, but he was assured it wasn’t when someone spoke up from behind the glass and curtains.

“Eddie? You awake?” Eddie pushed he covers off and got out of bed, he walked over to the window and opened the curtains.

The person at his window was Richie.

“C-can I come in?” Eddie could see the tears making their way steadily down Richie’s cheeks. He pushed the window open as quietly as he could and Richie clambered in.

“Rich, are you okay? What happened?” Instead of the answer Eddie knew he wasn’t going to get, Richie clutched him in a hug, openly sobbing.

Eddie guided Richie over to his bed and lates him down so that Richie’s head was resting above his heart. He never got answers, but he knew how to calm his best friend down. He liked listening to Eddie’s heartbeat, to confirm he wasn’t alone, and he like it when Eddie ran his fingers through his hair.

That’s exactly what Eddie was doing when Richie stopped crying and mumbled something.

“I’m sorry? I didn’t catch that.”

“Je t'aime. S’il te plaît, ne me quitte jamais.” (I love you. Please never leave me.)

Richie fell asleep soon after that, Eddie had no idea what the sleeping boy had said to him.

Over the next few months, Richie refused to stop talking in French whilst around Eddie. Beverly noticed he would constantly be blushing whenever Richie spoke the foreign words, in a thick accent. All of the Losers agreed that it was The only good impression Richie Tozier had ever done. During these months, Bev had to put up with Richie’s constant pining for Eddie.

She would always catch him calling Eddie a ‘magnifique petit tournesol’ (gorgeous little sunflower) or telling Eddie that he ‘avait l'air si mignon dans ce pull’ (looked so cute in that sweater’. He even said ‘Mon Amour.’ (My love) a few times

She was fed up of it. She knew without a doubt that Eddie had the same feelings towards Richie. So, during their 5th period geography class, Bev gave Richie a stern talking to.

“You need to tell him.”

“What?”

“Eddie! You need to tell him how you feel! I’m like 99% sure he reciprocates your feelings.”

“Yes Bev, but what about the 1% hmm?” Beverly rolled her eyes, they spent the rest of the lesson in silence.

A few weeks passed and Richie and Eddie found themselves alone at Loser’s Meadow, as the gang had dubbed it, watching the sun set.

“Eddie, I’m about to ramble in French and you just need to listen, you don’t need to understand.”

Eddie furrowed his brow. “Oh, okay.” He secretly loved it when Richie spoke French, however, he’d never admit it.

“Vous ne comprenez pas un mot que je dis en ce moment, et honnêtement? Je pense que c'est une bonne chose.

(You don’t understand a word im saying right now, and honestly? I think thats a good thing.)

J'avais besoin d'un moyen de pouvoir te dire ce que je ressens sans que tu me détestes.

(I needed a way to be able to tell you how i feel without you hating me.)

Parce que je sais que tu ne m'aimes pas en retour. Qui pourrait m'aimer de retour? Je suis un morceau de merde sans valeur.

(Because I know you don’t love me back. Who could love me back? I’m a worthless piece of shit.)

Vous voyez, vous n'avez absolument aucune idée de ce que je dis. En ce moment, tes joues sont d'un rouge vif avec combien tu rougis, et ton sourire n'a jamais été aussi beau.

(See, you have absolutely no idea what I’m saying. Right now, your cheeks are bright red with how much you’re blushing, and your smile has never been more beautiful.)

Tant que je continue à sourire et à parler, ce regard restera sur votre visage. Je ne veux jamais que tu arrêtes de sourire.

(As long as I keep smiling and talking, that look will stay on your face. I never want you to stop smiling.)

Ok, maintenant pour la vraie merde.

(Okay, now for the real shit.)

Eddie Kaspbrak, je t'aime depuis que nous avons neuf ans. Vous avez toujours été mon refuge, pour les nuits où il n'est pas sûr de rentrer à la maison, ou j'en ai fini avec le monde.

(Eddie Kaspbrak, I have loved you since we were 9 years old. You have always been my safe haven, for nights when it isn’t safe to go home, or I’m just done with the world.)

Vous êtes la seule personne à qui je fais confiance. Sauf ça. C'est la seule chose que vous ne saurez jamais, parce que je sais que vous ne ressentirez jamais la même chose.

(You are the one person I trust everything to. Except this. This is the one thing that you’ll never know, because I know you’ll never feel the same.)

Je t'aime Eddie Kaspbrak, je t'aime.

(I love you Eddie Kaspbrak, I love you.)”

Eddie giggled. “What the hell did you just say?”

“Oh, um, just a very detailed description of your mom’s vagina. I can retell it in English if you’d like?”

“Beep beep Richie.” Eddie said whilst laughing, as Richie sat admiring him, a wistful expression on his face.

A few days later saw Richie climbing into Eddie’s window at 3am with a bust lip and a black eye and tears streaming down his cheeks.

Without having to ask, Eddie pulled him into his bed and wrapped his arms around the crying boy. Richie wouldn’t stop muttering something in French until he fell asleep.

“Je t'aime.” Eddie made himself a promise that he’d look those words up as soon as the library was open tomorrow.

As soon as Richie left the next morning, Eddie pulled on a Red sweatshirt, one of Richie’s that he’d left behind years ago, and some shorts. He ran out of the house, making sure to kiss his mother goodbye before he left, and raced to the library.

He walked in and asked the receptionist to point him towards the ‘languages’ section.

He grabbed himself the first French dictionary he could find and flipped straight to the ‘T’ chapter, he already knew that ‘Je’ mean ‘I’.

Eddie gasped when he read the meaning. He dropped the book, causing a loud thud, and ran straight for the exit. He clambered back onto his bike and sped down the streets. He knew where Richie would be. The out of use highway bridge. He would always go there on a Saturday to smoke, listen to The Smiths and get away from his Parents.

Eddie threw his bike down as soon as he arrived, taking a puff from his asthma inhaler. “Richie?” He called out.

“Eddie?” He looked up to see Richie sat on the bridge’s ledge, feet swinging backwards and forwards. Eddie began to run up the hill towards the dark haired boy, whilst said boy stumbled down towards him. They met halfway.

“Eds, what are you doing here? Aren’t you supposed to be babysitting your mother or something.”

“Je t'aime aussi.” Eddie stated, not even bothering to tell Richie off for calling him Eds.

“What?” Richie looked unsure of what he’d just heard.

“Je t’aime aussi.” Eddie took a breath. “I love you too.”

Richie wasted no time in pulling Eddie in by his waist, connecting their lips. Eddie fisted his hands in the collar of Richie’s shirt. They pulled away a few moments later, in need of air, and rested their foreheads together.

This felt right. This felt like home.

His Warmth (M)

Word Count: 3532
Member: Jimin x Reader
Genre: Fluff & Smut
Warnings: Cum-play, Biting, Lots of cute bc I’m in love with Jimin

It’s been two months since your boyfriend went on tour and you haven’t been able to see him, so when you unexpectedly wake up to him in your bed you just can’t seem to keep your hands to yourself.

c.

Keep reading

Time After Time

Summary: The five times the universe appeared to be against you when you wanted to ask Steve out.

Word Count: 4,447. (yikes, might want to grab a bowl of popcorn or feed your cat while reading this)

A/N: This is basically a remake of an old Peter Parker fic I wrote a while back, but of course I switched things up and improved it. Thanks to my pals @heaventide & @theassetseyeliner for being my betas. Hope you like! 

Originally posted by kings-of-my-heart


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He Has A Breakdown~BTS Scenario

Request are open!


Jin

Originally posted by bwiseoks

It wasn’t a good day from the start for Jin, he woke up an hour late to an empty bed. He wasn’t able to eat breakfast before practice or show from the dance practice the night before. So it was no surprise when you came home for a long day he was laying on the couch with a worried Namjoon standing above him. “What happened?” You mumble as he walks to you, grabbing his things as you kick your shoes off.


“Fainted, he hasn’t eaten all day and woke up late, and end up being late for practice.” His words made you frown and nod, as you open the door for him.


“Thank you Namjoon.” You smile making him bow.


“Take care of him,Noona.” You nod as he walks away, as you shut the door you hear a graon. Walking to the couch you bend down and cup his face. He looks at you with a frown, his eyes fluttering as he let out a breath. His hand leaning closer to the palm of you hand he starts to shake lightly.


“Oh baby.” You whisper as he rolls to his side. Grabbing onto your arm,your other one foing around him as you kiss the side of his head. “Warm bath?” You whisper making him nod, “Did Namjoon feed you anything?” Again a nod. “Okay, let me get the warm bath all ready for you.


"Thank you.” He whimpers as you let yous lips touch his, a smile spreading on his lips but falling once you left him.


“I’ll be back.” Your words seems to bring him peace as you start to fill the tub. A hum leaving your lips as you hear a groan. Turning around you see a half naked Jin leaning against the doorway. “I could’ve gotten you.”


“Not broken, just tried.” He whispers leaning against the counter of the bathroom. “Can you help me with my pants?” His question made you stand up as you untie them, slolwy pullung them and his boxers down. “Join me?” A amile spreeds across your face as you nod. Slipping out of your clothing you help him in, soon following. Your back pressed agains his chest as you take deep breaths. “I love you.”



Suga

Originally posted by sugaa

All day, everyday for the past month and half Yoongi has been sleeping at the stuido. Bearly coming home, the comback slolwy taking him from his human life. Of course you understood it, you had too when dating him, work will be number one at times. Most nights, well more like every night, you were with him. Alseep on the couch with Holly on your stomach. But one night you weren’t able to come till late. Which you see now wasn’t the best choice.


Min Yoongi is a patient, and claim guy. But with the stress of the comback, both musically and physically he didn’t think he could do it all. So having you there in the studio helped him. When he panicked or got frustrated he’d look to you. With you slightly parted lips and messy hair somehow helped him. But tonight when he panicked you weren’t there. So when you come in, food in hand and a smile on your face you see his body curled into a ball. His freashly died blue hair a tangled mess, and his eyes puffy and face read. Placing your food down you slolwy walk to him.


“Yoongi?” Your voice made his head snap up, a whimper leaving his body and he throws himself at you making you fall onto your back. His body ontop of yours as his head nuzzled into your neck. Yous hand gripping his sweater as he violently shakes in your arms.


“Yo-you weren’t here.” He whispers making you tighten your hold onto him, “I needed t-to talk to you an-”


“I know, and I’m sorry baby.” You whisper, lips touching the crown of his head. “But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”



J-Hope

Originally posted by hose0k

The slamming of the front door made you jump from your spot on the couch. Your eyes widen when you saw a pale looking Hoseok. His eyes met yours and tears begin to fall, making you quickly stand up and catch him before he falls to his knees. Somehow your body doesn’t give out as you hold his shaking body in your hands. Slolwy bringing him to the couch as you place him down he grips your shrit. His hand clinging to you as he shakes, making you fall into his lap.


“Shhh…I’ve got you.” You whisper, lips pressed to his temple as you hold him close to you. His hand resting on your back, gripping the fabric that covers you.


“Bad recording day.” He whispers after a few minutes, you nod as you went to move be he held onto you. Keeping you where you say. “Stay here for a little while longer.” He whispers as you look down at him, his chin resting on your chest aa you run your hand through his hair.


“As long as you want.”




Rap Monster

Originally posted by mn-yg

Being the leader of one of the biggest K-Pop groups is tough enough, but being Rap Monster and Namjoon at the same time as being BTS great leader was harder. He was a people pleasure, loved to make peple happy, to make thwm feel love. But sometimes he’d forget to love himself,leading to him breaking. So it was no surprise to you when walked into your bedroom to see him just laying there. Eyes looking the the ceiling, body wrapped in a sweatshirt you’ve stolen one to many time, and eyes puffy and red. Laying next ro him you two sit in silence, when he opens his mouth. “You know the ancient Egyptians believe in a better life after death and being mummified is the only way to get there. When they die, they would place all of their favorite things with them in their tomb so it would come with them. If an Emperor died it whole court would sacrifice their lives to join him.” He mumbles making you squint your eyebrow as you turn your head to him.


“What the fuck was that?”


“Something I remembered for school..” he sigh rolling onto his side to face you. You body follows as he reaches ovee and cups your face. “Greek God and Goddes-”


“Shut up.” You mumble pulling him into a kiss, “You always put out facts when you get like this.” You whisper making him frown, but a smile rises in his face a second later.


“You always give me back rubs wh-”


“Fine.”


Jimin

Originally posted by jjks

You woke up to his bare back, his eyes having bags under them as he let out deep breaths. You reached forward to touch his back only leading him to jump away from your touch. “Just.. please don’t touch me right now.” He whispers rushing to the bathroom slamming and locking the door.You were left there eyes wide, and your heart beating out of your chest. So you decide to get up out of bed, throwing one of his sweatshrit over you tangtop covered body. His smell wraps around you, walking to the kitcgen you couldn’t help but let your mind go as you cook. Different scenarios about what had gotten Jimin so upset run through your mind. A hand slids across your back making you jump, there Jimin stood, two plates in hand. He nods at you, as you place food on both, taking then to the table you move to sit with him. Sitting in silence, you eat toll his fork just drop as he pushes the food away.


“Jimin?” You question, his body was shaking, his eyes close as a tears fell down his face.


“I shouldn’t have eate-” You stop him by reaching over the table and taking his hand in yours. “Don-”


“Shut up, and tell me what going on?” He lets out a puff as air as he take his hand from me to cover his face.


“I weighed myself…” He whispered making you stand up and walk to him. Arms wrapping around his neck as he grips you arm. “I jusy don’t…I-” he stops as his brrathing becomes rapid as his grip tightens on you. His sobs made hus body shake as he let out small cries of pain. “I need to be a certain weig-”


“No you don’t. ” you mumble making him sigh, “You’re thinner then me….Do you want to do morning workouts togther, since if you need to lose weight then I clearly do t-.” His body jerks around and covers my mouth.


“Don’t even go there.” He grumble glaring at you, “You’re perfect.” He look up at you his hands going around you eaist as your whip the tears from hiss face.


“So are you….but I’m beeing seriou-”


“We are not working out togther.”


“Why?”


“You know why.”


V

Originally posted by sweaterpawsjimin

Laughter filled the air of the studio, your body laying on a couch with your boyfriend Taehyung who has hus hed against your chest. Your hand was going through hus hair whne all of a sudden Suga came in and ask if he could record his part of the song again. Your bodyfriend sighed by got up anyway, his lip tocuing the bottom of your jaw before he left making you both smile as Jungkook gagged. About half hour later Suga came in wih a worried look, you body sitting up in a split second when you hear a slught cry the a crash. You rush past Suga Jungkook trailing behind you wheb you see it. Your boyfriend sitting on the ground, hair a mes and eyes puffy. Looking behind you to see Jungkook wide eyes, it made you break a little. “I got this.” You mumbled to the two boys, they bothe bodded and left. Your bent down to Taes leavel then brought you unto you chest. His body shaking as he hang onto you.


“Why cant I be like the other guy? They all have thrse soft voices then the-”


“Shut up."you mumbled pressing your lips to the side of his face "You make this band have an edge , giving them a base type voicw. Its sext too.” Your words made him smile as he nodded his face hiding in your neck when Suag and Kook come in veiw. “He’s all good.”


Jungkook

Originally posted by theking-or-thekid

It was abnormal for you thing for you to go to seelp on your own. Jungkook hating you sleeping alone so he always found ways to sleep next to you. So waking up in the middle of the night to an empty bed was a surprise to you. Leaving the bedroom to find Jungkook leanning against the wall made you jump. Faced flushed, hair a tangled mess body shaking as his breath rapid as he let out small sobs. “Jungkook?!” You ask with a gasp as you bend down to touch him making him let out a cry. He falls into your arms as he holds onto you his muscles tense as your lips touch the side of his face. “Baby breath for me. Please.” You whisper as your hand wrap around his head. His hand hanging into your torso. As he slows his brething he starts to speak.


“I didn’t w-want you to sl-sleep alone.” He whimpers making your frown as you sigh.“I was so tried and I just paniced.”


“It’s okay baby if your to tired, and you can’t leave text me. I’ll come to you okay?” Feeling him nod you kiss his forehead making him sigh. “I love you.”

attention | jjk.
  • summary: “It’s like she got my attention for just a second, just one glance and that’s all it took. And now she’s all I can think about.”
  • genre: fluff, angst and some smut because it’s college! au.
  • words: 10,260 words.
  • warnings: drinking mention. smoking mention. vomit mention.
  • authors note: based loosely on charlie puth’s song attention. i had lots of fun writing this! sorry it took me so long to post again, but i’ve been trying for a long time. i hope you have as fun reading it as i did writing it. also jiimin is highly featured in this fic. - mo

Originally posted by jjks

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Ouija - (H/M)

A/N; SOOOOOOO
This turned out A LOT longer than @dont-run-up and I first intended, but hopefully, everyone enjoys! Leave some comments letting us know what you thought of Incubus!Yoongi~~

Genre; Horror with that good S M UT 

Length; long af- 9,800+ words

Kink(s); A sprinkle of Master/Pet, impact play, oral (giving and receiving), creampie, light bondage, etc.

Originally posted by taes-nose-mole

12:00 a.m.
The time blared on your friend, Hee Young’s, phone screen. “Come on Y/n,” She jeered, keeping that eager grin and puppy-dog look in her eyes as she gently grasped your biceps, swaying you from side to side. “I wanna play! It’s just a game-” She added, pointing towards the newly purchased Ouija board that sat on your coffee table. Just the sight of it rushed a wave of uneasiness over you.

Shaking your head, your brows furrowed slightly, “I don’t know-” You replied, as anxiety laced your words. “My grandma always told me to steer clear of them, they could allow things into your home and life.”

“Oh my gosh, you don’t really believe all that nonsense, do you?” She asked, giggling through her words while she began to open the board’s box. Unlike you, she was a full-blown skeptic; she wasn’t a believer in anything paranormal, so Ouija was just a game to her and nothing more than that.

God did you wish you could dismiss it the way she could.
Though you had never personally experienced anything ghost-wise, you knew plenty of people that had. “Ahh I do, but..” You began, sighing as you decided to give in despite your better judgment, “But I guess we can play, just for a little, at least.”

Heeyoung excitedly clapped while smiling like a dork as she lifted the onyx and pearl colored board and planchette out. “Don’t worry,” She sweetly said, recognizing the nervous expression that painted your face as she placed it onto the glass. “It’s just a game.”

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crystal-fridge  asked:

If you're still doing Voltron fics, could you do one with a Winged AU where Lance hides his wings because they're different, pretty, but different, and when something goes wrong on a mission he uses them to save everyone with some really cool unique power he has? I mean, if you want to. I really love your work and wanted to know.

This took me like three days to do because I couldn’t stop colouring wings for them. Anyways, I hope you guys like this.


Lance watched his teammate’s fly around the nest he was laying in. They set up the nest in the hanger’s rafters so they could easily go up there after missions and still have plenty of room to fly around when they were traveling through space. He found it funny; when he first met each of them in the Garrison he was puzzled by their wings but now that they were in space, it all made sense. Shiro soared above him, his black and white speckled wings stretched out to either side of him. Unlike usual, he looked completely relaxed as the air blew through his fringe.

He dodged neatly to the side when Keith shot up from underneath him, trying to knock him off course. They laughed and circled each other in mock fight formation. The red, yellow, and orange wing beat wildly trying to make up for the sheer size that Shiro’s wings had over his own. He laid his head on his arms to look over the side of the nest when they fell into a nosedive towards the floor.

Hunk and Pidge both shriek and dove out of the way, Hunk’s chocolate brown and golden wing instinctually covered Pidge even though they were already standing on the ground. She huffed and pushed the limb off as Hunk gave sheepish apologies. She only gave him a fond grin but looked up at Shiro and Keith with an annoyed glare, which they didn’t notice as they were still chasing each other around the hanger. Her emerald green wings snapped up and she gave chase, surprising the two at her speed. Hunk laughed and gave a powerful beat and was gliding alongside the others. Lance looked on with a smile, he loved seeing his friends fly. They were able to forget about where they were and what they were meant to do and just became kids again.

‘Maybe it’s time to tell them the truth,’ Lance thought with a small frown. It had been months since they came to the Castle and they had undoubtedly bonded as not only a team but closer to a family. He heard the sound of soft flapping and looked behind him to see his team with ruffled feathers and carefree smiles on their faces.

‘No time like the present, I guess,’ he turned to them with a smile.

“How come you didn’t join us?” Shiro asked curiously trying to stroke his feathers into place. Lance looked down with a nervous gulp and started wringing his hands together.

“I was actually thinking of that right now,” he said. Looking up he saw that he had every paladin’s attention. He pressed his hands together to try and stop them from trembling.

“What is it?” Hunk asked. His forehead was creased in worry as he looked at his best friend. Not even he had seen Lance’s wings and he had known him the longest out of everyone. Not by much, they met the first year of the Garrison but still.

“I-um,” he mumbled trying to work up the courage. It wasn’t supposed to be this hard, he trusted them and he wanted them to know.

“It’s okay Lance, we’ll understand,” Shiro said encouragingly with a small grin on his face.

“I- I’m wingless,” he finally blurted out.

‘Shit,’ he thought. He cautiously looked up at his teammates and almost cringed at the pity that was plan on their faces. They all rushed forward, engulfing him in a hug and began chirping and cooing at him in comfort. He sighed into the group and after a while ducked down out of it. Although being wingless wasn’t uncommon, they still felt guilty that they had been flying around carelessly while he was grounded.

“Lance… I am so sorry,” Shiro said after a moment of silence. The others nodded in agreement looking heartbroken at Lance. He gave them a single shrug and slightly turned away from them.

“It’s alright I guess, I’ve lived with it my entire life,” he stated softly. He walked to the edge of the nest and made to get out.

“Where are you going?” Keith asked. Lance turned to them and gestured to the door at ground floor.

“I’m pretty beat, I’m going to crash for the night,” he replied with a shrug.

“You could sleep up here,” Pidge suggested looking at the rest of the team. They nodded and looked at Lance with hope. He bit his lip and looked away.

“I would but I, uh, have to shower and do a face mask and stuff still,” Lance replied shooting finger guns at them to their disappointment. He felt guilty as their wings drooped slightly.

“Maybe if I’m not too tired I’ll come back after I’m done,” he sighed. They immediately perked up again with a smile. He headed for the ladder attached to the beam and shrieked in surprise when arms lifted him up and began descending to the ground. He glanced up and saw Shiro grinning down at him. He gently placed him on the ground and ruffled his hair.

“I hope I see you later,” he said before taking off again back up to the nest. He nodded even though he knew that Shiro couldn’t see him and trudged out of the hanger.


“What the hell is wrong with me?” Lance growled at himself as he turned the water in the shower on. He paced in front of the mirror and wrung his hands together in agitation.

“Wingless?! Really?” He groaned dragging his hands down his face. He faced the shower and grasped the hem of his shirt and carefully peeled it over his head. He carefully unwrapped the bandages wrapped around his torso and let the cloth slide down his feathers. He sighed and ran his fingers through the dull blue feathers and looked in the mirror. He winced as the ache in his joints when he lifted and flexed the four wings on his back.

Not two.

Four.

As far as he knew he was only the third person to ever have four wings. The first he came to find, told the world of his condition believing himself to be descended from a god. Ultimately he was captured by the government and experimented on to find out more about his mutation. The second was a newborn girl who was taken away from her mother the minute she was born.

She didn’t make it to her second birthday.

The government dubbed anyone with four wings as a rowan.They found that that the wings were far more durable than normal wings almost as strong as a military grade armour. When they seemed threatened they turned into sharp and hardened like steel, it rendered them incapable of flight but the feathers were razor sharp. This is what made the government so wary of rowans. That and the fact that the first subject immediately attacked them after he transformed his wings this way. However, it was after months and months of merciless experimentation.

Lance was lucky and blessed to have been born to a very large and loyal family. He had his mother and registered midwife of an Aunt to thank for being born in the family home instead of in the hospital. He was registered as being wingless from the moment he was born and grew up being carefully monitored and maintained his whole life. Not that he minded much, he knew the danger he could potentially face if he was ever found out.

They couldn’t keep him locked away for long and relented when he decided to apply to the Garrison. Thanks to his distantly related Uncle who worked as a medical examiner he was able to get in and confirmed as wingless. He may have been lying to the government but hey, they lie all the time and no one gives them shit about it.

He knew that he could potentially be in a lot of danger for doing this but it felt like something that he needed to do. Maybe one day, he would become a famous explorer and he could become an advocator for rowans, just like him. That is if there were people like him on Earth. He looked mournfully at his tangled and muted feathers and wanted nothing more to soar through the air with his new family but he wasn’t sure what they would do. They were all still members of the military and were constantly briefed on what to do if they ever encountered a rowan in the field. He missed feeling the wind in his feathers though, he hadn’t had the chance to fly since he joined the Garrison.

He sighed and climbed into the shower letting the warm water wash away his thoughts. He couldn’t exactly go back to the nest tonight and tell everyone that he wasn’t wingless but actually a rowan. It would be too much for them to process. He would just have to wait a little bit longer until he knew for sure what they thought of him. He smiled at his plan and decided that it was the best course of action for now. If only to make himself feel more comfortable with the situation. After a half hour, he got out of the shower and attempted to dry off. He shook his feathers slightly trying to rid them of water but stopped when they started to sting from overuse. He sighed and locked his door in case anyone tried to get him in the middle of the night, he would have to leave them uncovered to dry properly and wrap them again in the morning. He carefully laid on his stomach and propped his head up to look at the door. Deep down he wished one of his teammates would come and ask if he was going to join them but he knew that they would be busy enough grooming each other’s wings to worry about him.


Usually recon missions went very well for them, all things considered. When your bones were light enough to step without making noises and were able to quickly fly out of a galran’s visual range, it was quite hard to detect them. Because of this they usually didn’t have a contingency plan prepared if something went awry.

“We’re pinned, Shiro!” Keith yelled into the coms. The sound of Keith’s bayard slicing and shots from Hunk’s cannon were loud in the background.

“Everyone head to Hunk and Keith’s location if you’re able,” Shiro commanded.

“Roger,” Lance said in response, he turned from his own defeated sentries and headed towards their position. They were lucky that this particular outpost was occupied only by sentries and drones as it had been abandoned by the Galra a long time ago.

“I’m close guys,” he heard Pidge say. Looking at the schematics of the base, he could see that Shiro made it to them and Pidge was heading down the corridor to join them, making Lance the furthest away. He sighed when he noticed that they had been corralled in what looked to be a sealed storage hanger and the only exit was the way they went in. He gritted his teeth and leaned forward into a full sprint determined to help his teammates. He could hear their laboured breathing and pain grunts as they took hits from the sentries.

“There’s too many of them!” Pidge yelled out in panic. He darted around the corner clutching his bayard tightly in his hands. The minutes felt like hours as he rushed through the halls, the sound of his teams panicked yells and shouts of pain. He froze when he saw the state that his team was fighting in. It almost felt like he was watching the scene in slow motion. Pidge’s foot being grabbed as she tried in vain to fly away and being slammed into the ground. Hunk trying desperately to shoot away the sentries but being tackled mid shot. Keith swinging his sword wildly and the look of surprise when he was punched in the jaw; and Shiro, oh Shiro. He was already on the ground and was absolutely covered in them, he swung his arm taking out sentries left and right but he was still trying to drag himself over to protect the others.

It only took a split second for Lance to take all of it in and begin storming towards the opening. Without thought, he banished his bayard away from him and began running towards the entrance. There must have been almost one hundred sentries activated, maybe more but he wasn’t about to falter.

“Lance! Run!” Shiro shouted when he noticed the paladin coming closer to the battle. At his voice, the sentries turned their attention to the newly arriving human. The marks on their body gave an ominous red glow as they began running at Lance. The others began struggling anew, wanting desperately to help their friend. The one they thought would be more helpless than them because he was wingless.

“Lance!” They screamed out in terror for him. Their eyes widened in shock when the back of his armour shattered and metallic looking wings burst out. He twisted around with the wings pushed out. They sliced clean through the first line of robots. They watched in shocked awe as Lance twirled around with his wings spread, destroying sentries in a deathly dance. As the last one fell he faced away from them, his wings lifted.

“Rowan,” Pidge breathed out in shock. The wings dropped in realization and Lance looked over his shoulder at them.

“I’m sorry,” is all he said before he ran away from them. They leapt up ready to follow close behind him but Shiro held out his hand for them to stop. They looked at him in confusion.

“We need to give him a little time, just enough for him to settle,” he said. They reluctantly agreed and walked out of the hanger.


After exiting their lions, they decided that they had to look for Lance. It wasn’t that difficult since they found his abandoned chest plate near the rafter ladder. They landed in the nest and saw Lance huddled in a ball at the other side of the nest. Without the metallic sheen on Lance’s feathers, they could see how lifeless and messy the wings really were.

Without a word, they all cuddled up against Lance. Shiro and Hunk on each side and Keith and Pidge in front of him. They didn’t need to say anything to him, and they didn’t need his explanation. They already understood why he was afraid to tell them. They could feel Lance begin to tremble between them and start to let out small sobs between breaths. Hunk gave a small smile and cradled Lance’s head against his shoulder. After an hour of silent comforting, Shiro laid a hand on Lance’s wing and carefully folded it out over his lap. Lance abandoned Hunk’s shoulder to look at him in confusion. Shiro grinned at him and began brushing his hand through his feathers, gently untangling them.

“You don’t have to Shiro,” Lance mumbled.

“I want to Lance,” He replied grabbing Lance’s cheek in his palm. “Let me do this for you,”

“I want to too,” Hunk said excited and carefully draped his other top wing onto his lap. Lance’s head whipped to Hunk’s side again in shock.

“No arguments either,” he said when he saw Lance begin to open his mouth. He gave Hunk a pout but obeyed.

“Me too,” Pidge grinned reaching for his lower wings. He didn’t even try to put up a fight this time, even when Keith mumbled something and got to work on the last one.

“Thank you,” he said gratefully. He rested his chin on his folded arms as he leaned on the edge of the nest. He wasn’t sure if he could look at any of them without bursting into tears, so he looked down at where he could see Blue instead.

“Maybe after this, we can go flying?” Pidge suggested. The rest of the paladins nodded their heads but this time they all turned to Lance as well. At their silence, he turned just enough to see them.

“Um, I haven’t exactly flown since I joined the Garrison,” he stated sheepishly.

“Well, then it’s about time you stretched your wings then isn’t it?” Hunk smiled.

“I guess it is,” he smiled back after a moment’s hesitation. Everyone gave a small cheer and got back to their jobs. Just as careful as before but now with a sense of urgency. Lance beamed down at Blue, feeling absolute love for and from the people around him. He couldn’t be any more lucky and blessed than he was right now.

Our Little Secret - Part Thirteen

Summary: Your and Dean’s fight hits you hard, you don’t know how to fix it, you don’t know how to talk it out and now you have to work a case that hits a little too close to home.

Series Masterlist

Characters: Dean, Sam, Reader

Pairings: Dean x Reader

Kink(s)/Square Filled: Touch Starvation for @spnkinkbingo

Word Count: 6500

Warnings:language, fighting, angst, smut, oral, feels

A/N: Thank you so much for reading. I’m really loving these character and this series. Thank you for your wonderful responses. I also love the debate that this made last night, it’s so special to see people invested enough in these characters that they pick sides. A special thank you to the people who looked this over for me @atc74 and @sylverminx

This is unbetaed, all mistakes are my own

***THE TAGLIST FOR THIS SERIES IS CLOSED**

The tears stream down your face, hot and messy, you don’t bother to brush them away. You don’t know where you were planning on going, your feet are stuck here in the dimly lit parking lot as your eyes search, brain on overdrive trying to think of something, anything to make this better.

A hand on your shoulder makes you fling around, scared, you hadn’t heard Sam walk up behind you, “Y/N?”

You don’t say anything, just wrap your arms around your friend and let him pull you against him as he tells you that everything is going to be alright.

His arms loosen and he pulls your face up, “Where are you going?”

“I-I don’t know,” you sob, the words tumbling out.

“Come on,” he wraps his arm around your shoulders, “nothing’s open now anyways.”

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BTS scenarios: Cheering him up when he feels self-conscious

Originally posted by arkysal

Kim Seokjin/Jin

 There was something different about Jin that day. He wasn’t his usual bubbly self but quiet, almost invisible, ghost of Kim Seokjin. He didn’t try to make you laugh during breakfast when you were drinking tea. It worried you, but at the same time you didn’t want to be nosy. You knew damn well how easy it was to set him off when he was visibly stressed. Limited on choices you decided to wait for him to show signs that he wanted comfort from you.

 Good thing it was the day you tagged along for another show. You could watch Jin’s lack of interaction with other people. Every time somebody pointed that out he just laughed blaming his fatigue. Of course he was tired but neither you nor his bandmates believed it to be the reason behind his blank face.

 You stood by the wall, observing everyone move around. Minutes passed in a rush and your head started to spin at the thick atmosphere. Thankfully the stylist asked you to help Jin with his collar and tie. You walked close to him and instantly grabbed at the material with delicacy. While shifting the cables to his microphone you realized that Seokjin avoided looking at you. At first dark thoughts clouded your mind, but you pushed them aside with all your strength.

“Is the wire bothering you anywhere?” Although you let go of his collar, you stayed still in close proximity to him. 

 At the question he finally looked at you. Your eyes met for a short moment before his gaze moved somewhere to your right. He shook his head faintly without moving any other part of his body. You sighed and grabbed his shoulders to shake him a bit. Jin gave you a weird glance as he tried to pull out of your grip.

 Although it hurt, you didn’t let go of him. You were awkwardly struggling with each other for a longer moment until you decided it was really enough.

“Now, is it bothering you anywhere?” You asked once more. Again, he shook his head, but this time his eyes remained on you.

 You smiled faintly and tied his tie. When done, your index finger trailed up the fabric to stab his chin playfully. He was more confused than amused by your behavior yet he kept his mouth shut. Unfortunately for him you weren’t the one to give up on Jin.

“Oh, here’s a thing I forgot to give you!” You exclaimed after an idea formed in your brain.

 He observed your hand as you hid it in inside pocket of your jean jacket. You searched for a few seconds until you pulled out fingers shaped in heart. Your eyes were hungrily tracking his reaction.

 A quiet snort left his nostrils and Jin finally smiled for real at you. You returned a five times wider one and put the finger heart in the small pocket on his chest. The action had expected result. Your boyfriend relaxed enough to look you deep in the eyes. Encouraged by his positive response you dared to approach him close enough for you to lay your forearms on his chest. Your hands smoothed the material as you looked up from it with the gentlest expression you could make.

“I’m glad you accepted my heart.”

“It would be hard not to.”

“Did I tell you already that you look really handsome in that suit or was I screaming it in my mind this whole time?”

 His smile widened even more at that. His eyes moved down to look at his right hand that hung in the air. You grabbed it along with the left one without losing sight of his face and brought them up so you could kiss each one of his fingers. Jin’s eyes followed your lips hungrily taking in your adoration for his least favourite part of his body. When you finished his glance returned to meet yours. Jin let his hands hold your cheeks so he could kiss you properly. 

“Can you do one thing for me when on the stage?” You asked when he pulled away.

“Anything.” He smiled with pure adoration.

“When you’ll be singing your solo, can you take out the heart so I know you still have it? I want a close shot at you.”

 Jin gave you a weird glance but nodded lively.

Originally posted by yoongijae

Min Yoongi/Suga

 Yoongi disliked doing anything and it was a well-known fact. Not only you and his closest coworkers had an idea but also his fans were aware of that so-called hobby of his. That’s why you didn’t make a big deal out of his stay in bed. At least at first. You got worried when the bedroom door remained closed at 2 p.m. and frantic when nothing changed an hour later. Aware that he was probably hungry by that time, you prepared breakfast and decided to go to him. You tip toed to the doors and turned the doorknob carefully.

 It was weird to act this way in the middle of the day, but the dread that hid in you made you act carefully. Firstly, only your head leaned out. Room was dark as the curtains blocked the daylight. Still you could see Yoongi’s body resting under covers. You listened for a moment but when steady breathing didn’t reach your ears you risked walking inside. You moved to his side of bed and sat on it’s edge, centimeters from your boyfriend. Then you put kitchenware on his night stand and turned to him. He laid on his side facing wall on yours. Aware of how easily one could annoy half-asleep Yoongi you hesitated before laying fingers on his arm. You stroked it gently then leaned froward to look at his face.

 You were surprised to find him awake and shocked to see how puffy and red his face was. Dry paths of tears glistened on his cheeks and nose. If it wasn’t enough, his lower lip was bleeding probably from biting on it. Your other hand bushed his fringe to reveal his eyes, but he stubbornly kept them away from you. Through the whole process of you finding out about his miserable state he didn’t make a single movement to acknowledge your presence. Almost as if you weren’t there.

“Yoongi…” You whispered shaken by his state.

 He ignored you although he heard you for sure. A memory of his voice telling you to leave him alone resurfaced in your mind. But you weren’t able to leave him alone in his misery. He could lash out at you at any moment. Your mind kept repeating the same sentence over and over again yet your body was deaf to it. Carefully you changed position so your knee was touching his back while you could still look at his face.

 Afraid of his motionless state you called him again but more quiet. Once more he didn’t answer. His eyes remained glued to the wall on the other end of the room. You felt your own blood turn cold when his lids moved but he just blinked.

“I made you breakfast.” Your lips ghosted above his arm as you told him. “You must be hungry.”

 He remained as he was. You knew that you wouldn’t get more and moved up after kissing his skin softly. Your walk to the door was interrupted when you heard him finally move under covers. You turned around to find him staring back. His face was blank but you smiled nonetheless.

“I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

 Yoongi let you leave him alone although he wanted you to stay with him. He needed your comforting words and warmth of your body to make him feel better. Yet he couldn’t find strength in himself to ask that of you. After a couple of minutes he looked to his left and grabbed the plate you left there. He knew that it had taken you a lot of time to prepare. Considering how pancakes were cut to resemble a head. Most likely his head. He judged from the pierced ears. Around the head laid rays of sunshine. The whole work looked like breakfast for a child not a grown-ass man like Yoongi. But he thought it was cute anyway and grabbed one of the stripes to bite it.

 He only realized that he was really hungry when he finished the whole plate. Aware of his loneliness he dared to lick the powdered sugar off it. When he put the plate back, door opened to reveal you with victorious smile on your face. You strode over to the bed and sat in front of him.

“Now that you ate enough sugar, can you come out and spend the day with me?” You asked.

 Yoongi’s eyes fell down to stare at his lap. His hands ran up his face and he let out a loud sigh. You were afraid to push him too much but then you noticed a bit of sugar on the top of his nose. Your finger wiped it off and transported it to your mouth. You licked off the sweetness meanwhile smiling at his surprised face.

“I’ve been blessed with the sugar off the sweetest man on Earth.”

 His face softened, your most beloved expression replacing the previous one. His hand caught yours and gripped on it tightly. No words needed.

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daisies

requested by: @heartattackholland 

summaryTom Holland was your best friend growing up, but as his acting career took off–the two of you fell out of touch. However, past feelings for him rise up again as a wedding invitation from him arrives for you in the mail. 

pairings: tom holland x reader

word count: 3.1k

warnings: a lot of angst, a lot of explicit swearing

a/n: this shit y’all–whew–i was FEELIN the angst with this one guys, it was bananas. i loved it. i also tried to incorporate more of his family into it, and also a very made-up side character. enjoy, babes! 


“What do you want to be when you grow up?” you asked, your voice carrying in the sweet summer breeze.

Tom looked up from the flower crown he was weaving together, his brow furrowing in thought. “I don’t know….maybe an actor.”

“An actor?” you smiled, plucking a daisy from the grassy field. “Why?”

“I want to make people smile and make people laugh,” he replied, his hands stilling in his lap. “I want to make people feel things, you know?”

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Halloween Party

Note: i don’t even…i can’t explain..ROLL WITH IT, Y’ALL. happy early Halloween!! i’m hoping to dress up as a vampire! anyways, here’s a smut post, because why not. i imagine Bucky with this hair in this? leave a comment! I love reading them! I hope you’re all doing well! .c

WARNING: It’s SMUT!! 18+ ONLY! If you’re underage and on my permanent tag list, please respect my wishes and do not read this. I’ve yet to go through and see which of you are under 18. I’m horrible, I know, but yeah. DO NOT READ IF YOU ARE UNDER 18!!

Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’ was pumping through your body, the music being so loud in the hallway from the party room. Tony was hosting his annual Halloween party - which you were a tad late to - and he invited nearly half the city of New York. Your shoulders brushed against others that passed by you, dressed as cartoon characters, supernatural beings, and even dressed as members of the team.

You’ve had to do a few double takes as you made your way to the party, nearly mistaking someone for Thor a few moments ago. He wasn’t nearly as tall, but he had the muscles and facial structure. Not to mention, the whole costume was on point, down to the Mjolnir.

For Halloween, you dressed as a cat. Leather black suit, a headband with faux fur black cat ears, a faux black tail that attached to your clothed ass by a velcro strip, and heels. It was a cliche costume, but it was last minute this year. You added the whiskers and nose with eyeliner to finish the look.

Plus, you already had the accessories from using them in the bedroom, so why not use them for this? Nobody would know.

Well, Bucky would.

The music was even louder as you stood at the entry door - you had to stop to take everything in. Ghosts hung from the tall ceiling, spider webs were littered over the walls with orange and purple fairy lights tangled in them, the tables had a large spider as a centerpiece, and fog rose above your ankles. The snack table had creepy looking snacks, a huge zombie cake was in the middle and was nearly half gone, and the punch bowl resembled blood.

Tony does not disappoint. He had planned this party in only a few days and it looked as if it had taken forever.

You smiled as you weaved your way through the dancing guests, searching for a familiar face. The strobe lights didn’t help, but it was easy for you to spot Steve and Sam near the bar. They were dressed as Woody and Buzz from Toy Story.

“Lookin’ good, fellas!” You hollered as you approached the two. They turned to face you and their eyes nearly fell out of their sockets as when they saw your costume. “Me-OW!” Sam gently grabbed your hand and bit his bottom lip as he looked you up and down. The team hadn’t seen your costume yet so this reaction was expected.

You laughed and shoved his chest. “Hm, couldn’t stay away from the wings, I see.” You smirked and Sam snorted, rolling his eyes. “Steve here wouldn’t leave me alone when he saw Toy Story for the first time. These costumes have been planned since August.” Sam muttered just loud enough for you to hear over the music.

Steve scoffed. “you were excited about it when I suggested it. This isn’t all on me!” He defended himself and you giggled softly. “I think you both look amazing.” You commented and straightened Steve’s cowboy hat, making Steve blush. 

“Thank you, Y/N.” You smiled and turned to face the people on the dance floor, your eyes moving across them in search for your boyfriend. “Either of you seen Bucky?” You questioned, trying to see over the tall people. Steve hummed as he looked over the crowd, searching for him. 

Bucky decided to dress up as Dracula for Halloween. His costume was also cliche, but you thought he looked sexy as a vampire. He wore a double buttoned victorian red vest over a white dress shirt and had a long, silk cape on, the inside matching his vest. His long hair was slicked back and you put fake blood drips from his lips to his chin earlier before you got ready. And when he smiles, those fangs remind you of when he bites your neck while he-

“There he is!” Your thoughts were interrupted by Sam. Your eyes followed his finger and you could see Bucky talking to Clint who was dressed up as a Mummy. Natasha, dressed up as Jessica Rabbit, was standing beside Clint. They seemed to be having a nice time, so you stayed with Sam and Steve.

“I’ll leave him be.” You turned to face the men again and watched Steve’s eyes trail down your body once more. “Don’t get all woody, Woody.” Sam snickered and Steve elbowed him quickly. “Shut up, Sam!” He whisper yelled. You couldn’t help but playfully roll your eyes at them.

A few minutes passed while you spoke to them. The music was actually good this year and you were enjoying yourself a lot. A few friends stopped by a couple times, then you were left alone with the two men again. When they started talking about work related topics, you zoned out, facing the bar that was also decorated.

You hadn’t noticed that the two men left your side until a large body pressed against your backside, a metal hand and a flesh hand rest on your hips.

“Here, kitty, kitty.” Bucky’s voice was low and husky in your ear, it sent shivers down your spine. You bit your lip as he pulled you back against his crotch, nuzzling his face into your neck, giving it a small bite. “Mmm, good evening, master.” You heard the hitch in Bucky’s throat and he smirked, turning you around to face him.

You looked up at him and he squeezed your hips again. He let out a chuckle when you wiggled your eyebrows at him. “You look amazing, Doll.” His eyes focused on your slightly exposed cleavage. You felt yourself become bashful as his eyes raked over your body. He looked even better than you remembered when you helped him dress up.

“Being a vampire suits you,” You commented, watching the way his fangs shined underneath the lights. “I’d quite like you to suck my blood.” Your voice was seductive and Bucky bit his lip, the two fangs slightly poking his thick bottom lip. “I’d rather you suck me.” He whispered, moving his hands down to your ass, giving it a squeeze.

You let out a whine and started to become aroused. “Yeah? You want your cock in my mouth?” The innocent look on your face caused Bucky’s cock to twitch. He let out a harsh breath and nodded. You loved teasing Bucky and you knew exactly what to do. There was a bowl full of lollipops on the bar counter and you reached to your side to grab one.

It was cherry flavored and you unwrapped it, watching his face. Bucky kept his eyes on you, wincing at the tightness in his pants. You looked into his blue eyes as you raised the red lollipop to your lips. He gulped and you opened your mouth to lick it slowly, letting your lips wrap around it. Bucky’s eyes drooped and you let your lips come off with a pop.

“Kitten, you’re killing me.” He whimpered, playing with the tail hanging from your ass. Not wanting to waste anymore time, you grabbed his cloak, keeping the lollipop in your mouth as you pulled him through the room towards the door. You quickly made your way to the nearest empty room, which wasn’t difficult since everyone was occupied in the dance room now, all while maintaining a seductive sway in your stride.

You giggled as you pulled the lollipop from your lips and dropped it in the trash can outside the door, feeling satisfied when you heard Bucky groan behind you. “Damn, Kitten, your ass looks great.” He slapped your right cheek with his flesh hand and you relished the sting, shoving you both into an empty bedroom and shutting the door.

“Bet you want a taste, huh?” You giggled. Bucky quickly turned you around, slamming your back into the wall. You loved when he was rough with you. It took him a while to get used to it, even when he’d see you moan in bliss as he choked you, but he grew comfortable. You never pushed him and vice versa. You trusted each other.

Bucky growled and tugged down the zipper on your cat suit, unzipping it and moving it out of the way so your breasts were showing. “I fucking love these.” His teeth nipped at your breasts and you gasped when his hands squeezed them. “Bucky.” You whimpered his name and he bit down harder, eliciting a moan from you.

Your hands made their way into Bucky’s hair and he hissed, pushing his hips into you. “Are you gonna behave, Kitten?” His voice was barely over a whisper and you nodded, looking up at him innocently. “Knees. Now.” He ordered firmly. You sank down to your knees, keeping your eyes on Bucky’s. His eyes nearly closed for a split second as he watched you lower, the sight almost enough to make him cum then and there. Almost.

You reached your hands out to hold onto his thighs but he shook his head. “Keep your hands to yourself. I’m fucking your mouth.” The authority in his tone made you want to disobey and challenge him, but you decided against it. For now.

Bucky unzipped his pants and he shoved them down along with his boxers to his knees. His cock sprang free and slapped against his clothed abdomen. The sight made your mouth water and you absentmindedly leaned forward, your eyes locked on his thick member.

Bucky chuckled and his flesh fingers wrapped around his shaft. He started lightly tugging on it, the movement causing his balls to jiggle. “Mm, you’re so eager. You want me to fuck your mouth? Huh, Kitten?” He was teasing you with his words but you didn’t care. You were desperate to taste him, to feel his heaviness on your tongue.

“Please. I want it so bad.” You begged shamelessly, licking your lips. Bucky stepped forward and you sat up on your knees, keeping your back straight against the wall. You opened your mouth and stuck your tongue out, letting Bucky slide his cock inside.

A shiver shook Bucky’s body and he gasped as you closed your lips around the tip, lightly licking as he kept sliding in. His hand left his shaft and he bottomed out, letting a groan fall from his lips as you relaxed your throat. His chest was heaving as he sat still. Tears started to form in your eyes but having his cock in your mouth and hearing the broken whimpers coming from above you, it made it all worth it.

Bucky pulled his hips back so half of his cock was in your mouth. He thrust only slightly, looking down at you as you hummed around him. You looked up at Bucky and his hips jolted involuntarily, his cock reaching the back of your throat again. “Fuck, such a good Kitten.” His voice sounded wrecked.

You moaned around him, urging him to start going faster. He chuckled deeply and rest the palm of his flesh hand against your cheek, wiping a stray tear. “Ready?” He whispered, spreading his legs a tad further apart. You nodded as best you could, causing Bucky bite his lip at the sensation.

He started to speed up and you relaxed your jaw so he could get even deeper. “Oh, that’s it. Yess.” His hands rest on the base of your skull, his fingers grasping locks of your hair. His balls started to slap against your chin and neck, and the sounds it was making caused your panties to get wetter by the second.

You looked up at Bucky through your lashes. He was a total mess. His head was thrown back, his eyes were closed, and his mouth was hanging open. You felt his hands tighten in your hair, tugging your head closer and off the wall. You gagged around him as he thrust particularly hard, your nose pressing against his pelvic bone.

“S-so good. Fuck yes, Kitten.” He whimpered your pet name and let his head fall forward. Your saliva was starting to come out from the sides of your mouth and he thought you looked so beautiful like this. He gave a few quick thrusts and gasped when he felt your tongue lick the underside.

He quickly pulled away from your mouth and you gasped for air, having not been able to properly breathe. A string of saliva connected your bottom lip to his tip. “I love your cock so much.” You wanted to lean forward again and take it, but you waited like a good girl. He smirked down at you, raising an eyebrow.

He started tracing your lips with the tip of his cock, knowing how crazy that drives you, but it drives him even crazier. “Do you?” He slid just a little in, watching as your wrapped your lips around his tip. You nodded and pulled away with a pop. “I want you to cum in my mouth.” 

Bucky gasped and creased his eyebrows, his cock twitching. You reached a hand up and began to stroke him. “Please, cum in my mouth. I want it so bad.” You spoke in an innocent voice, lightly squeezing Bucky’s cock as you jerked him off. “Oh, Kitten. Fuck.” He let out a shuddered breath and you lifted your other hand to fondle his balls.

When you noticed his abdomen tightening, you put him back in your mouth. You stroked the rest at a harder pace and sucked on his tip, moving your tongue back and forth against the underside, hitting a sensitive spot. “I’m gonna fucking cum.” Bucky growled, jerking his hips forward.

He took control again, holding your head as he fucked your mouth. You moaned and squeezed your breasts together as you stared into Bucky’s eyes. He was a gasping and moaning mess as he watched you. Suddenly his eyes rolled into the back of his head as he let out a strained groan and you felt hot spurts of his thick and salty cum coating your throat.

You moaned at the taste, furthering his orgasm. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He choked out, his thrusts faltering just a tad. You swallowed all you could in case he had more, and he always does. You felt a few more drops land and quickly swallowed the rest down.

Bucky let out a heavy breath as he pulled out, tapping your cheek, silently telling you to open up wider. You let your tongue hang out and he smiled lazily when he noticed his cum was nowhere to be seen. “Such a good Kitten.” He pulled you to your feet and you smiled, licking your lips clean.

Bucky kissed your neck as he zipped your cat suit back up. His warm breath made you shiver as he leaned into your ear and your knees nearly buckled as you felt his metal hand slide in between your thighs, his palm cupping your pussy.

“I’m fucking this kitty later tonight. I want you wet and aching for me.”

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Traffic Teases

warnings: sub!Tom, please don’t tease and drive, handjobs, a nsfw gif, riding tom, slight overstimulation

summary: picking your boyfriend up from the gym as you catch a glimpse of him hot and sweaty, now who wouldn’t be turned on by that?

word count: 2,019 

tag list: @maggie-starz

A smile came across your face once you parked your black subcompact car just near the vicinity where Tom’s gym was it. You pushed back the car door shut as you clutched onto your wallet whilst slowly heading towards the entrance of the impressively vast building, with it being very spacious inside whilst being filled with punching bags, yoga mats, mini obstacle courses, and barbells.

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