modern gods au

Modern angels

Angels smoking cigarettes off of balconies. They write proverbs on bathroom walls and sing hymns in the aisles of grocery stores.

Angels still filled with fury from before. They hold a grudge. They carry a knife. Their words are sharp and hurt worse than any blade ever could.

Angels with soft voices and hard eyes. Angels trying to fit in. They’re trying to erase the pain

Angels with wrists covered in runes, angels trying to speak in the tongues that used to come so naturally but this mouth just can’t form the words.

Angels you meet on the street. They touch your shoulder and you’re struck with lightning.

Angels filled with ideas. Their mind is buzzing. Covered in paint and chalk, you know they’re miles ahead of you.

Angels on their front porches, drinking sweet tea with a goddess. It’s nothing like ambrosia, but it’s close enough.

Angels with bloody noses and a smile. Angels who’re confused by this life. It’s not so black and white anymore.

Angels who speak with their fists and are close to none. Their Father has left them in the dust. No one can help them.

Angels holding their partners close while dancing. This life won’t last forever, so they wanna hold her tight while they can.

Fanfiction - The Teacher II

I had no choice, really. If you missed it, here is part I.

The Teacher II

Claire hesitated in front of the door, the incrusted bronze plate shining with the letters “Professor Fraser”, beckoning her to dare and knock. She breathed deeply and raised her fist to announce her presence.

“Yes?” A voice answered inside, in a lilt that made her stomach explode in a frenzy of millions of bubbles. She half-opened the door in order to peek inside, realizing that he was accompanied by a student, sitting in front of him in what could only be called “the hot seat”. “Ah, it’s ye Miss Beauchamp.”

“Sorry to disturb you, Professor Fraser.” She said in a respectful tone, watching as her colleague – another Health Management student - looked at her with a cry for help in his brown eyes – slightly hazed from too much weed -, his shoulders slumped in mortal shame. “I have some questions about the essay I still have to write for your class. I was wondering if I could go over them with you, sir.”

James Fraser gave her an uninterested look – which could clearly be interpreted as annoyance with her presence – and finally nodded.

“I’ll be with you presently, Miss Beauchamp.” He said dryly. ”As soon as Mister King here understands that copying a page from Wikipedia is not acceptable as an essay. You do realize I have access to the Internet, Mister King?” His eyebrows were raised above the rim of his black eyeglasses, enhancing his disappointment at his student poorly conducted machinations.

“Yes, Professor Fraser.” The boy furiously nodded, a sinner in repentance, his neck slowly disappearing between his shoulders as he tried to bury himself away, escaping those piercing blue eyes. “I am very sorry, sir.”

“I’m sure ye are.” The teacher gave him a lopsided smile, neatly pilling the sheets of paper crossed out in red ink and pushing them in his direction. “You have until tomorrow to deliver a corrected version of this paper, Mister King. I’ll have to grade it for a maximum “B” after this mischief, but it’s certainly better than the current “D” – from disaster.”

He pursed his lips and waited patiently as the student collected his belongings and made the walk of shame towards the door of his office. Claire could barely contain a smile as her colleague grimaced to her, rolling his eyes in despair, his back turned to the punishing master.

“Come in, Miss Beauchamp.” Professor Fraser urged her and, quickly patting Arthur King’s back in comfort, Claire moved inside the office and closed the door behind her. “How can I help ye?” He asked in a dark tone.

He looked serious and poised, his forearms resting on the mahogany table in front of him. His office was clean and discrete, fairly organized with stacks of paper and folders thoroughly aligned and labelled. He had a shelf filled with books behind him, silently complaining with copious overweight – Claire recognized titles from classic economy books but also lots of poetry and historical tomes. Over the years – both in nursing school and now as medical student –, she had been inside many teacher’s offices. There was a tendency for hoarding and to accumulate trinkets and photographs, as they spent so much time working inside them. However, Jamie’s office spoke of order and contention, only a photograph of himself with a dark haired woman – the same blue slanted eyes smiling to the photographer, betraying their kinship – and a small statue of a leaping stag.

“I was wondering if you could explain me again some concepts.” Claire said in strong voice, locking the door from the inside and slowly moving towards his desk. “I’m not sure I’m truly enlighten about them – in spite of our class yesterday.”

“Do ye now?” Jamie quirked a brow, his voice low and dangerous. “I thought I was fairly clear.” He rose from his chair and came around the desk, nearing her like a graceful predator.

“Some things benefit from repetition.” She licked her lips and, smiling widely, sat on his desk – her floral dress hiking up as she went, exposing her fair legs to his eyes, soft and creamy.

“Christ, Sassenach.” His mask of tight control fell – exposing his raw edges underneath it. He moaned and strode towards her in a heartbeat, placing himself between her parted thighs, his mouth punishing hers for the teasing, his hands grasping her curly hair. “I just had ye yesterday, but I want ye so much it hurts already.”

“I want you too.” She panted, as he touched her breast with his strong palm, her nipple already painfully aware of his proximity. “I couldn’t help myself – I had to come. I had to see you, to feel you.”

“When I saw ye standing at my door, I almost lost it.” He groaned, his hands brushing the soft skin inside her thighs, as he kissed and suckled her neck. “And ye – wearing this dress, ye wicked little vixen. I thought I’d throw ye into my desk and take ye, there and then, right in front of Mister King.”

“You’re a very good actor.” She laughed, her hands fumbling with the zipper of his pants. “I could swear you didn’t even like me – least of all wanted to shag me in your office.” Claire yelped as he kneeled in front of her and bit the sensitive skin, moist and heated from his attentions.

“This is madness.” He nuzzled her, his hands gripping her arse to bring her closer to him. “If we behave like uncontrolled teenagers someone will find out. We need to stop seeing each other here.”

A month before they had started seeing each other – meeting for dinner away from campus and taking long walks on secluded parks and on the coastline, where they could hold hands and kiss, languid and carefree. The underlying attraction had been there from the start, they were forced to admit – and their mutual feelings had bloomed into full spring, nurtured by hours of solitude and touches. At first the idea of sneaking around was fun and certainly arousing – but soon enough the burden of pretending indifference had become a permanent struggle and a source of unhappiness.

“You can stop.” Claire suggested teasingly, her lips tasting the hollow of his throat – skilfully undoing the first buttons of his shirt – the pulse of desire emanating from his skin. “I won’t force you, I promise.”

“I canna refuse ye.” He said in a hoarse voice, his accent made more evident by lust and strong emotion, as she struggled to free him from the constraining underwear. “Not today – nor ever, mo ghraidh.”

He played her like a violin – robbing her lips of moans and sobs that echoed in his heart like notes of the purest music, his eyes fixed on the way her beautiful face almost shattered, so close to be undone. Jamie touched her until his own body hurt – a desire so powerful it bordered on excruciating pain -, finally ready to take her. As he adjusted his body to hers, her head lulled back as she surrendered to the eminent joining, a knock on the door sounded – menacing and real, like a sudden tear on active muscle.

Their eyes locked in terror for a moment, their bodies almost fused together, their breathing ragged and superficial.

“Who is it?” Jamie questioned, struggling to compose his voice. He kissed her swollen lips one final – desperate – time and pulled her out of the desk, quickly helping her to adjust her clothes.

“Fraser?” The voice of Professor Raymond came from outside. “I need to discuss with you the program for the summit. May I come in?”

Mallaichte bas!” Jamie cursed, gritting his teeth. “Just a second!” He shouted through the door, composing his own clothes and brushing his hair with trembling fingers. Like two actors in a comical play, Claire launched herself into the chair, searching for her best concentrated and slightly bored look, as Jamie hurried to adjust the crumpled papers on his desk. When everything seemed to be in natural order, they nodded to each other and Jamie opened the door with a pleasant smile plastered on his lips.

“Ah.” The little man, with silver hair and dark all-knowing eyes, noticed Claire sitting like a student in best possible behaviour. “I hadn’t realize you were busy, James.”

“Miss Beauchamp and I were merely discussing her last paper.” Jamie explained, adjusting his glasses. “She had already started it before she transferred to your class.”

“No doubt.” Professor Raymond smiled, clearly amused. His eyes drifted through the room – in spite of their best efforts, Claire’s lips were clearly swollen and her hair even more unruly than usual. Jamie, although composed, had the look of a man battling a cramp in the belly – his eyes wild and fiery, his smile a bit too tense. “I’m sorry if I interrupted your…work.”

“That’s alright, Professor.” Claire raised from her chair and headed to the door, her neck still flushed. “I think I have everything I need for now. Thank you, Professor Fraser. I’ll be sure to deliver my complete work later.”

Both men stared as she waved and disappeared, closing the door behind her.

“Your fly is open, James.” Raymond warned him in an amiable tone and laughed like a content toad, to Jamie’s utter dismay.

****

“Have you asked for me, Professor Mackenzie?” Jamie announced himself, standing on the threshold of Colum MacKenzie’s - the dean of faculty - office.

“Ah, James – yes.” Colum’s calculative gaze turned to Jamie, as he invited him to sit with a brief hand gesture. He was silent for a while, studying Jamie’s cordial face, his hands entwined in thoughtfulness. “I asked ye here because a pressing matter has been brought to my attention.” He finally said, leaning back against his leather covered office chair.

“How may I help?” Jamie furrowed his copper brows.

“Ye can stop seeing Claire Beauchamp.” Colum said in a cutting voice, which froze Jamie’s insides – was he fishing for the truth, expecting him to confirm his suspicions; or did someone actually see him with Claire? He was certain Raymond knew after their encounter in his office, but was confident the man wouldn’t tell a soul due to their friendship.

“That is hardly possible.” Jamie smiled, trying to look relaxed and uncompromised. “She attends this school and I am a teacher here.”

“I was wondering if I had to remind ye of that exact fact.” Colum admonished, harshly. “Someone informed me that you have been involved in some kind of affair with the lass. I couldna believe it. That a teacher – my nephew, no less – would be sae foolish and careless.”

“Who told ye that?” Jamie gripped his fist, hidden bellow the desk, barely containing the anger in his voice.

“It doesna matter.” Colum shook his head, his eyes demanding and judgemental. “Will you deny it, Jamie?”

Jamie endured the assault of his eyes, his own stormy and strong. Eventually, he sighed and shrugged.

“No, I won’t deny it. I’m in love with Claire and I’m dating her.” He confessed, tilting his chin in defiance. Colum hissed like a harassed animal and pursed his lips in discontent. “I’m a professor here but she isna my student – we only got involved when she quit my class. Nothing happened before!” Jamie guaranteed, tapping his fingers on his leg.

“I had hope the girl was lying.” Colum brushed his thinning hair. “How could ye be sae stupid? How could ye overlook what screwing the lass would mean to this school?”

“What we have,” Jamie hissed, adamant. “Is much more than screwing, uncle. Claire is the woman I waited for all my life. I won’t forsake her – not even for yer precious reputation.”

“I see.” Colum breathed through his nose, like a resentful cat. His eyes searched Jamie’s, as they battle their unwavering wills. “In that case ye have a decision to make – let go of the lass or yer days of teaching are numbered.” And with a magnanimous nod of the head, he dismissed him. “Professor Fraser.”

3

MODERN WITCH AU

@reserve​ and i were talking about contemporary witch kylo on twitter dot com and we agreed a lot of it is probably just kylo buying too many crystals and trying to get hux to wear protective charms (and also kylo making up weird rituals to try to get hux to try new things in bed) ANYWAYS i really like the aesthetic

6

THE MODERN OLYMPIANS (females & males)

There is something dangerous about a teenage goddess. These abnormal, peculiar youths. One possesses a skilled tongue, silky and delicious, yet so dangerous, curled in a pool of poison. Another only wakes at the howling of her huntresses and another could make the world quake, her wit as her only weapon. One is beautiful and indispensable, she feeds the world with lies and burning ashes. Another tie souls to each other, leaving them to rot and decay together until only one survives and another became so sad and overpriced that she became something no one could receive, no one deserved. These girls were queens, rulers amongst men and feral beings that slowly learned, by the centuries, how to tame their darkness.

Artemis aches for freedom
as her golden limbs touch the earth
she feels the earth shrink away
and knows she can do nothing
to stop it


Zeus dreams of the past
when life was too big
and money did not always mean power
but he is powerful
so he must thrive


Ares fights for a future
with blood in his mouth
and war in his hands
for people may change
but strength is forever


Persephone feels lost
life in her sun-bleached veins
but death on her tongue
it is the shadows
that welcome her home


Hades remains still
for how do you live on
when death is your reign
and you must be eternal

—  Do the gods exist because we need them or because they are scared what will happen if we don’t  (l.e.h)
2
the golden twins ; apollo & artemis

« the sun and the moon. dearest brother and sister, opposites and incomplete. their love for each other is brutal, yet hidden under a veil of stars. they rarely agree on anything, really. one shining bright in the sky, the other guiding lost souls in the dark. but you know what they say about twins; they are two sides of the same coin. a golden coin. »

gendryatrash  asked:

prompt for gendrya: 5 times Gendry saw Arya Stark truly smile

sorry for the wait!! but thank you so so so much for the prompt :)


two falling sparks, one willing fool (or 5 times Gendry sees Arya Smile)

Gendry had a theory.

While there were definitely other more important things that occupied his mind, and things that he spent his time thinking about, he swears that this was just something that would come and go.

The theory was: the only time Arya was really, truly, smiling was when she was unaware of it.

And it’s stupid, but the thought makes him smile himself and she’d probably kick his ass if she ever found out what goes around in his head but-

He can’t pinpoint exactly how or when, but there came a time where he had learned Arya. At least enough to know when she smiled for real. It was something that he took pride in; she was a fairly hard person to get a read on. Not that it was a conscious effort. No. Just something that he learned over time.

He could just tell a genuine smile from a false front.


1

The first time he sees her genuinely smile is when he meets her for the first time.

Stuck with Lommy and Hot Pie, taking heat for something he had nothing to do with, here he is, sentenced with scraping gum and other questionable sticky clumps off of the cafeterias chairs and tables.

Yoren, the history teacher, the only teacher in this high school that Gendry was confident didn’t totally hate teenagers (at least not yet), handed over buckets and what looked like butter knives to each of them, with a pair left for him.

For a second, he thought that his sympathy extended to actually helping them. It took him by surprise and he said so.

Me?” he laughed, as if the thought was so absurd. “That’s cute kid, but no. I’d never be able to stand again.”

Yoren leaves without saying who and leaves them to it.

Half an hour in, he thought whoever was supposed to be here would never show, but he hears her music before he even sees her because he recognizes it, and it’s that fucking loud, he wonders how she’s not deaf.

He’d known her from around. The hallways standing with a sophomore he thinks is named Micah, in the papers with the rest of her family when Governor Stark came into office, a few parties here and there, and he’s confident that even though she has no idea who he is, and not sure how and who added who, but they’re friends on Facebook.

Her clothes look expensive with the distinctive trademark fashion of the well-off. But she’s a walking contradiction with her old, worn out and ratty looking pair of Converse. She’s got this bored look on her face and yet, still doesn’t quite lose the aristocratic air that one’s born with the kind of family she’s from. So, sue him if he was 100% expecting her to bitch, whine and ditch.

But she surprises him by nodding to no one in particular, letting her messenger bag riddled with buttons that’s falling apart at the seams with a thud, grabs the bucket and knife, and goes to work.  

Lommy and Hot Pie are not so subtly speculating as to why she might be with them suffering the same sentence. From what he’s heard, it was the bloody nose she gave Joffrey. He can’t say that he blames her. It was about time someone decked that jackass. What amuses him is that while he was taller than Joffrey, she would had to have reached quite a bit to throw the punch.

He knows she can hear, but she stonily hacks away at a particularly stubborn piece of gum stuck to the chair, with a scabbed over white knuckled grip.

Hot Pie’s scratching against the chair so fast Gendry’s worried it might actually catch fire.

“Scrape, gently.”

He doesn’t even stop, in fact, if it’s even possible, he’s scratching at it even faster. “Didn’t ask”

“Yeah, well, tough shit, I didn’t ask to be here either .”

He hears her snort, and it’s so loud at first he thinks she sneezed. But, no, he turns to see that she’s grinning at the underside of a chair, and finds himself smirking too.


2

More often than not, it would be just the two of them at Motts. It started when he saw her walking home and asked if she wanted a ride at the last day of their community service and celebrate their freedom.

She put her feet on the dash and changed the radio station within seconds of getting in his truck, and all he could do was scoff fondly at Hot Pie and Lommys reaction. He’d have given them an earful had it been any of the two, but he couldn’t bring himself to tell her off and, well, he just knew.

From there, there was an effortlessness to the way they moved around each other. She took him completely by surprise at how much a part of his life she’d become. Gradually, it was her phone number in his phone saved as m’lady, both the jackets and hoodies she’d “borrow”, the distinct smell that would linger in his truck, the crap ton of selfies she’d leave on his phone, Nymeria’s fur everywhere in the upholstery despite that happening one time, and the inside jokes they shared. He was surprised how much he needed her and he hoped that she needed him the same way. He never thought he’d ever be this close to a girl, much less having a female best friend.

And he likes it.

Her presence.

When Hot Pie and Lommy were around, they’d go out, but he likes this especially. He likes the companionship of them working in silence. He’d disappeared under the truck that came in a week ago, tinkering around, and she’s on the patched up sofa they picked up off the sidewalk on a whim that now sits in the middle of the garage, sprawled out with her headphones she’d long abandoned, having the radio loud instead and textbooks scattered about her like she’d been there forever, like she belonged there. He made sure he always had something to do with his hands because it was getting harder and harder to be around her, and he knew what that meant, but-

He wasn’t going to be that guy.

Suddenly, he’s being pulled out from under and the smell of freshly baked bread hits him. Lommy and Arya are on the couch while he and Hot Pie are on the ground. He’d missed the joke that everyone was laughing at, but he smiles anyway when he sees her head thrown back with a smile, as she kicks Lommy off the couch. She might as well have kicked him in the gut with what it was doing to him.

He turns to see Hot Pie with an eyebrow raised at him and the smile on his face vanishes.


3

He’s on the roof, trying to climb in through her window and sees her with only the laptop light illuminating her face, and she’s smiling at something and…

… he falls with a thud that knocks the wind right out of him.

Seven hells, I haven’t done that since the 10th grade,” he groans, and she’s at his side in seconds where he’s on his back.

“Are you okay?” He hears her laugh, typical. Here he is physically injured and she’s laughing, but despite everything, he’s laughing too.

He’s trying to catch his breath. Somehow seeing her smile stretched out across her face, highlighted by the streetlight that would go out and come back on, with her hair tickling his cheeks doesn’t seem to be helping. He closes his eyes trying not to let her figure out what he’s thinking.

I’m royally fucked, that’s what

“Yeah, I’m fine. You don’t think they heard, do you?”

She scoffs as she takes her place on her bed. “You worry too much.”

Someone has to

He freezes in place because he didn’t think this part through. For a moment, he sees his life flash before his eyes when he remembers that she had 3 brothers that could kick his ass and one sister that would fucking murder him with a smile on her face if he so much as thought about Arya the wrong way.

Was he really going to sit next to her on her bed, behind her closed bedroom door, unsupervised, at night?

Yes. Yes he was.

An hour and a half later, Fezzik, Inigo, Princess Buttercup and Westley are riding off into the sunset and the credits roll. He found it strange that she’d never seen it before.

“Hot Pie is Fezzik, Lommy is Inigo, and you’re Princess Buttercup.”

“What, why do I have to be the princess?”

It was a sort of game they had, casting each other in roles of movies they watched.

He shrugs, “It just fits.”

“And, what, you’re Westley?” she snorts derisively, but double takes when she catches him staring at her.

He doesn’t realize until later what he’s just said. and he stutters under her own stare but has no time to backtrack until she says.

“Ha! Fuck that, you can be Princess Buttercup. I’m Inigo Montoya.”

4

She’s a junior now, and he’s surprised she’s stuck around. Not that he’s complaining. He’s really not. He was expecting her to ditch and move on without really saying anything after he graduated. But, she made it clear that she wasn’t going anywhere when she demanded that he, Hot Pie and Lommy suffer with her at Sansa’s 18th birthday party.

“She’s just turning 18. Honestly, I don’t see the big deal.” She says it like she’s dreading going, but he can tell how proud she is.

He looks around the room and while Lommy and Hot Pie are eating enough for a whole village, having no trouble whatsoever enjoying the party, but he just can’t find it in him to. His skin feels like it’s shrunk two size and maybe it’s paranoia, but the moment he’d arrived, he felt like very single pair of eyes were burning a hole on the back of his head. There’s no denying that it’s the nicest party he’s ever been to, and when she leaves his side to take pictures he’s never felt more out of place.  But the party fades around him and he can only focus on one thing.

She’s standing there with the rest of her family.

Governor Stark, Dr. Stark, Senator Robb Stark with his fiance Jeyne Poole, future Attorney Sansa Stark, Bran Stark, smartest of all the Stark kids, Rickon Stark, star hockey player of the Direwolves and Arya, aspiring artist with so much potential, and Jon Snow, the Private Investigator, with all their million dollar smiles. At least he’s sure what it’s going to say in the papers the next day. 

He can tell it’s forced and he laughs to himself when the official photographer raises her finger for just one more and that she’s just seconds away from ripping his head off.

She decides to ditch the reception altogether and she nicks a wine bottle and drags him out to the parking lot, barefoot, having ditched her heels sometime in the night. It was freezing back in the function room, but he thinks his temperature spikes when she slots her fingers through his, abandoning their friends to the buffet. He doesn’t dare let go. They’re sitting in the back of her brother’s truck. She was dangerous for him like this, all affectionate and disorientated. She whispers with a breathy laugh that makes him shiver from the inside out, “You’re never getting rid of me, okay. You’re stuck with me.”

“Okay.” Like he actually had much of a choice.

“I think that’s enough.” He tugs the wine bottle out of her grasp and she settles at his side, she laughs again against his neck, warm gust of breath hitting the side of his neck, and he inhales sharply, for a split second, forgets how to breathe.

Arya’s giggling and stops then, suddenly, like she just realised something, she laughs again oh my god, ass!

He laughs a little himself, “What?”

“Ass, Gendry!” Like repeating it would make it make sense.

He shakes his head, “I don’t-” and he swallows thickly when he sees her staring at him, with a dazed smile, a smile that he’s never seen before. He’d never been much of a poet, maybe a sap, but she looked really fucking happy. And that made him happy.  "Arya, I don’t understand.“

When she’s calmed down, she says, “When she graduates, she’ll be Attorney Sansa Stark.”

It takes him a while for him to connect the dots and he just rolls his eyes. She falls asleep with her head  on his lap, with his jacket as a pillow, and a smile on her face and he hopes for the night to never end. He does his best not to move, feeling oddly honored that she decided to fall asleep on him. It was a lot like the first time he got a cat and it was an amusing thought to have.

Gendry had another theory: even though she had this self-professed obsession with wolves, she was honestly just a big cat.

5

The same unknown number is calling for the fourth time, but judging by the fact that they seemed pretty damned determined to get a hold of him and the handful number of people who knew him and of his friendship (if you could still call it that, these days, it was pretty fucking hard to tell), he can guess who it was.

He debates leaving it to ring. He wasn’t obligated to answer, but he figured Sansa, or at least he thought it was Sansa (it was likely that it could have been Margaery, nosey little shits), was never going to stop. She was really determined when she set her mind on anything. And he knows exactly what this is about.

Lately, he’d been cancelling every time Arya would ask to hangout. He’d bullshit his way through his excuses whether it was because he was working, or sick, or busy. It was getting harder and harder to say no.

The first time was the hardest. He didn’t need to see the caller ID to know it was her, she had her own ringtone. That should have been the first sign.

“Hey,”

“Hey,” she hesitates, and he curses under his breath, “What’re you doing later?”

“Actually, I’m actually down with something. It’s pretty bad. Maybe tomorrow?”

“What, you never get sick,”

He laughs mirthlessly, and he just wishes the call would end, because he’s just so tired of lying. “Yeah, I know. I’ll call you.”

“Okay,”


He ends the call before he has the chance to say anything else.

Tomorrow, turns into next time, which becomes next week, and it’s been almost a month now. He’d thought that the distance would help figure things out, but he’s pretty sure that the only thing hes figured out is that he’s just useless without her, which he knew already.

He takes a deep breath and exhales and answers,

“Gendry! Thank God, I didn’t think you were going to answer-” the voice says before he can get a word

“Sansa, whatever you’re going to say, it’s not going to change-”

“Look, just listen.”

Strangely, it’s enough to silence him.

“I won’t pretend to know why you’re punishing yourself and won’t let yourself be happy but, before I kick your ass, because trust me I can and I will, I’ll give you the privilege of giving me a good reason not to.”

“How generous of you.”

He’s met with silence and all he can do is sit down. “I don’t know what you want me to say that you don’t already know.”

“Why are you avoiding her?”

It’s not like he doesn’t want to. Gods, all he wants to do is be around her. But it was too much. He can’t- He just couldn’t do it. She was everywhere. She was in the air that he was breathing, in his space, in his head.

“Because, I sure as hell don’t know, if you could clue me in on that, that’d be-”

“Because I don’t trust myself, alright? Is that what you want to hear? That I cannot, for the life of me, keep lying to my best friend? That it just kills me whenever she’s around? Or when she tells me about some dumbass who’s no less deserving than I am of her? That I never will be? That- That all I want to do is just tell her how I feel?”

“Why don’t you?”

He swears he has a heart attack when he sees her right there, standing right in front of him, fists clenched at her sides, looking like she’s ready to take a swing at him and his first thought is-

Fuck

“What are you-”

“You fucking liar!

It stings more than it should, but no less than he deserves.

“What did you hear?”

She’s stalking towards him, and he has this wild instinct that’s telling him to run, but he’s too overwhelmed to even move.

“Did you mean it?” she’s searching his face for any proof, and he can barely breathe because she’s so close now.

Arya-

“Did you mean it?”

She’s staring him down, and all he can do is stare back at her. The look of utter hope and devastation has him surrendering.

Before he’s even finished saying “Yes”, she throws her arms around him, and it knocks the wind out of him, as he stumbled backwards. And purely instinctual, like the first time she held his hand, his hands find their place around her, and his lips on hers, and crushes her to him.

She breaks away and slides down slowly, breathing heavily, his face following hers, eyes not quite open. While her hands are still gripping the lapels of jacket, his have moved from around her to her face, looking at her, almost like he’s making sure she’s really there. He feels more than sees her smiling into the kiss when she kisses him again, and he hugs her tight, burying his face into her hair .

“I missed you,”

“And who’s fault is that?”

“Fucking finally!” It’s Margaery this time.

He laughs and steps out of their embrace.

And just like that, he can breathe again. 

“Oh my god,” She grabs the phone from him “ hang up!”

“I think the words you’re looking for are Your Wel-”

Arya hangs up as Gendry sits on the table, blushing furiously, and looks down with a hand on the back of his neck. The look of remorse on his face was replaced with embarrassment. “Look Arya, I’m so-”

“Oh, Gods, no, nope. We are not doing that. Just shut up and kiss me.”


tadaaaaa, i hope you liked it haha :D title is from the song from afar - vance joy 


[ao3]

2
HADES and PERSEPHONE

asked by mysteriousbooklover

king and queen; crown and sword; ruler and beloved. there were things looming in the underworld. souls amongst corpses and flowers amongst ruins. a somber kingdom built in cold bone and black ashes. it was often called « the kingdom where nothing was born », where light never dared to set a foot. well, that is, until persephone. because the day persephone set foot on this burnt bewitched ground, the day she held the ruler’s heart in her palm, almost burning at the warmth of her sun-kissed skin, a flower bloomed under her feet.”

archiveofourown.org
My Heart For A Minute

Nine years after Jake’s tragic but heroic death, Clarke and Abby have finally gotten their lives back on track thanks to the unconditional love and support of family matriarch, Lillian Walters. As unfortunate as it seems for Clarke, she soon finds herself on the business end of her grandmother’s meddling when the aging woman adds a pre-death condition to her living will: Clarke will be gifted enough money to buy her own art gallery when she gets married to one Miss Alexandria Abigail Woods, the one girl in the world whom Clarke actually legitimately cannot stand.

I have a modern mythology AU and omg I’m fucking obsessed.

• Pastel goth Hel swearing like a sailor and /this/ close to punching everyone in the fucking face and learning to love herself

• Indie musician Apollo who never knows wtf is going on, but loves his tiny angry chihuahua girlfriend

• Hermes being a third wheel

• Chubby Aphrodite who is super sassy but will probably stab you

• Calliope taking care of all her sisters bc she’s precious sun child

• Overprotective Demeter taking care of teen Dionysus bc Perseph ran away w/ her biker bf

• Hades trying to control 5'1" Persephone from fighting everyone

• Horus looks like Rami Malik and acts like Finnick

• Freya’s all-girl team of pro gamers

• Athena: law student by day, street fighter by night

• Amaterasu is a tattoo artist rooming with mute Chang'e

• Hestia running an apple orchard and being adorable af

AND THEN EVERYONE DIES OuO