red white and haze all over

Practice

Can i request a Yoonmin blowjob smut? 😇

~I hope you like it sweetie!~

Word count: 1376
Genre: Smut
~~~~~

When Jimin danced, he really let go, letting his body take over.  Yoongi watched Jimin’s body in awe. He could see Jimin let go, and it was breathtaking.  Beads of sweat rolled down Jimin’s face as he bit his lip. “1. 2.” He breathed while he did the steps. This was a mistake. Why did Yoongi ask Jimin of all people for help? These feelings aren’t new. He’s been pushing them down for years.  

Jimin stopped the music and smiled at him with his plump lips. He should’ve just asked Hoseok. “Your turn!”.  

“I should just watch you one more time.”

The younger man let out a chuckle as he shook his head “Come on I’ll do it with you.” Yoongi walked over and stood beside Jimin. “Let’s take it slow,” he said, taking off his hat and throwing it to the side. He showed Yoongi all the moves once again.

Jimin watched Yoongi repeat what he had just shown him. He was a fast learner. When the music stopped he starting clapping, making Yoongi smile. “5-minute break?” Yoongi asked between breaths. “Sure,” Jimin agreed, wanting a break himself.

Yoongi slid down the wall until he was sitting on the hardwood floor. Jimin sat next to him, offering him a bottle of cold water. “You’re really improving!” Jimin smiled. He was always smiling, just another thing Yoongi loved about him.

“Thanks,” Yoongi said. He took the water without making eye contact with the handsome male. Jimin looked down. He was trying to pretend that he didn’t notice all the little gestures, but he did. He tried to shake them off, tell himself they didn’t mean anything, but they bothered him. It hurts when the guy you’ve been crushing on doesn’t even want to look you in the eyes. “Are you okay?” Jimin shyly asked.

“Yeah,” Yoongi said, sipping his water, “Why?”

“…It’s nothing, just a gut feeling,” Jimin said, opening his water.

They sat in awkward silence for a few moments. Yoongi’s mind was racing with thoughts. He should say something, something to break the silence and prove he’s fine. He should say something interesting and funny. But what? He couldn’t think of anything and the 5 minutes were almost up.  

“I want to kiss you,” he blurted out.

He didn’t realize what he had just said until Jimin stared at him blankly. Oh god. Please no. Why did I say that? Why does this happen to me?

Jimin’s blank stare was soon replaced with a smirk.

“I mean, not like that. I- I,” Yoongi stuttered, “It’s just…” Jimin raised his eyebrow at Yoongi. “It’s just…I like you,” Yoongi finished. He stared down at the floor until Jimin’s hand lifted his chin up. He looked right into his hyung’s eyes before kissing him.

Yoongi’s lips were soft against Jimin’s plump lips. The older one stood on his knees, without breaking the kiss. He put his hand on the back of Jimin’s neck, pushing his body closer to his own. Jimin broke the kiss, making Yoongi whine. 

Yoongi took this quick break to think about what was happening. Jimin was kissing him. His lips were just how he imagined. Even though the kiss itself was nothing like he imagined— it was so much better. What Jimin thinking? Has he always liked him back? Was he enjoying the kiss?  

Jimin had no idea what he was thinking, but he wanted more so he pushed his lips against Yoongi’s once again. This time, the kiss was full of pent up lust from both sides. Jimin let his hands find their way under Yoongis oversized black shirt. He ran his hands up Yoongi’s back, feeling his spine.

Yoongi broke the kiss to take his shirt off. When tried to go back to kissing Jimin just pushed him on his back, straddling him. Yoongi gasped at the feeling of the cold hardwood floor against his back. Jimin pinned the older man under him by pushing his wrists into the floor.  

Jimin bit his lips while he looked at Yoongi under him. He could feel his hyung get harder under him. He licked down Yoongi’s jawline. He switched to sweet kisses when he got down to his neck. Yoongi tilted head, giving Jimin more access. The sweet kiss soon turned into rough sucks. Yoongi’s breath hitched when Jimin started marking the pale supple skin of his hyungs neck.

Jimin left Yoongi’s neck red, promising hickeys in the morning. He kissed down the older man’s flat stomach, over his belly button. He stopped when he got to Yoongi’s grey sweat pants. Yoongi’s boner was obvious, but so was Jimin’s. Jimin tucked his fingers under the band of Yoongi’s sweatpants and boxers as he kissed the bulge. He slowly pulled them down, causing Yoongi’s long hard cock to spring up and hit his stomach.

Jimin licked his lips as he put his hand around the hard length. It twitched to Jimin’s touch and Yoongi’s breath hitched once again.  Jimin blew on the tip, making Yoongi shiver.  Precum ran down Jimin’s thumb. He brought it to Yoongi’s mouth and watched him suck it clean with a smirk.  

Jimin’s stare was enough to make Yoongi cum. He could feel Jimin’s stare burn him while he tasted his own cum. Yoongi felt weak against him. Jimin had barely done anything and already he had Yoongi in the palm of his hand.

Jimin wrapped his hand back around Yoongi’s cock. He licked the precum off of the side, causing a light moan to escape from Yoongi’s mouth. He brought his tongue to the tip. He swirled his tongue around the tip, licking over the slit in the process. More moans started to escape Yoongi’s mouth.  

Jimin wrapped his mouth tightly around Yoongi’s tip, making Yoongi close his eyes. “Fuck,” he whispered to himself. Jimin started bobbing his head up and down, slowly gaining more speed. Yoongi arched his back, pushing his head into the floor.  Jimin relaxed his throat, allowing Yoongi’s member to touch the back of it.

Yoongi let out a loud growl. He opened his eyes to the sight of Jimin’s mouth wrapped tightly around his whole dick.  "Oh fuck Jimin, you’re so hot.“

Jimin let Yoongi’s hard member rub against the side of his cheek. He let it go with a pop, only to put it back in his mouth right afterwards. Needy for the feeling of Yoongi’s hard cock against his throat, Jimin went down far enough to that his hand was now sitting at the bottom of Yoongi’s shaft. He repeated this process, making himself gag.

Yoongi was a moaning mess under him. Jimin let his hand find it’s way under his own underwear to his hard member. He teased himself while he watched Yoongi writhe under him. Jimin’s face was red now and tears formed in his eyes. Jimin started to jack himself off, causing him to moan, sending vibrations down Yoongi’s shaft.  

Yoongi was overwhelmed by all the sensations, his brain was in a sex haze, his breathing was heavy, and he could barely form coherent sentences. “Oh..my…fuck…Jimin I’m so fucking close.” He breathed.

“Cum on my face baby,” Jimin moaned readily.

Jimin’s dirty words were enough to push Yoongi over the edge. His vision went white as he felt himself cumming on Jimin’s face. At the same time, Jimin reached his own high, cumming in his pants. When Yoongi’s vision refocused, he was greeted with the sight of Jimin’s face covered in his bitter white substance.  

He grabbed Jimin’s chin, bringing him into a passionate kiss.  He licked his own cum off of the younger man’s cheek.  

“Babe,” Jimin whispered, biting his lips, “let’s go home early.”

~NaughtyV

anonymous asked:

omg I love your work, you're an incredibly good at writing. if you're taking prompts, i was wondering, how about a fic where North gets hurt on a mission and everyone's worrying about him - instead of the other way around?

Agent North Dakota takes a bullet and Theta was not prepared for the reality of a dying Freelancer. Luckily, North does this all the time and so do the others. 

Keep reading

Killing him softly

according to the prompt/idea by bluandorange. Excuse the shitty ‘lyrics’ that I made up on the spot as opposed to just searching for some real ones. 

“No.”

“Yes.”

“No.”

“Yes! C’mon Steve, you haven’t gone out in like, six months.”

Steve frowns at his friend, “That is a gross exaggeration.” (It’s not, actually. But Steve is stubborn and can’t help but stick his feet in the sand and resist).

Bucky just raises an unimpressed brow, “Is it really? Stevie, name the last time you went out for the night.”

It takes him longer than it probably should to think of something, “Just the other week! We went and saw that movie you wanted to see- y’know, the one about Amy Winehouse.”

“That was a month and a half ago.”

He blinks, “Oh.”

How time flies.

“Yeah, Oh. So c’mon- the concert’s in two hours, and I know for a fact that you don’t have anything due until the week after next! You can spare a lousy Wednesday night.”

Steve stares down at his too-thin arms; the way his fingers clench. Bone and skin stretched thin. He should probably eat something, he thinks absently as the familiar sensation of anger and despair churns in his gut.

‘C’mon Stevie. You gotta get off this campus every once in a while. An art degree doesn’t merit you turning yourself into a hermit.”

Steve gets off the couch without answering. Grabs a bowl and a pack of instant noodles to make for himself. Bucky shakes his head when he offers; he’s almost as stubborn as Steve (but considerably better fed), and he’s determined to get his way.

Bucky’s right of course. He has no real reason not to go out tonight. Classes are only in the late afternoon tomorrow, and Steve would have just stayed up til midnight watching Netflix elsewise. He’s just… not had the energy to go further than the college grounds in the last few months, save for the occasional trips to the convenience store down the road for essentials. Winters are always bad for Steve, but this one feels especially awful. Whatever doesn’t hurt feels like it’s about to, and what art he does produce is definitely feeling the pinch of it. Bucky tries to help- tries to get him out and about- but Steve’s bailed on him so many times he can hardly count them all (or find the energy to do so in the first place). Honestly it’s a surprise Bucky’s even bothered to stick around.

“You’ll love it,” Bucky promises as Steve pours boiling water over his meal, “This guy’s voice, man… it’s better than sex.”

Steve snorts, “Not had the best of sex lives, have you Buck?”

He easily dodges the book thrown his way and laughs as it hits the mini-fridge with a dull thunk.

“Laugh it up, punk. When’s the last time you even got laid?”

Steve grimaces. A long, long time is the answer to that, and he can’t for the life of him think of a remark glib enough to deflect from that fact.

Bucky huffs- he already knows the answer too- and flops onto his back on Steve’s bed, “You’ll enjoy it Steve. It’s a Wednesday- not even like there’s gonna be that many people around. You don’t even have to mingle in the crowd! You know what Shield’s like; there’s plenty of tables and booths to hide yourself in, if you really want.”

Steve scowls at him, “I am not that bad.”

“Mm, but you’re close.” He turns onto his side. He’s got his Serious Face on, “You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever’s been eating at you, you don’t gotta keep it under wraps all the time. I’m here for you… I love you, man.”

Steve drains the water on his noodles. He says nothing about the letters he writes- to himself, to Bucky, to his mother or the world at large. Says nothing about the countless artworks hidden under his bed, angrier and darker and uglier than anything his friends are used to.

“I know,” he says instead. He stirs the shitty seasonings into his noodles. Bucky sighs heavily.

“Please come,” he says finally, “it’ll just be a nice, sedate night with Nat and Barton. You can just chill and listen to the music.”

Steve makes a show of thinking about it, but he already knows he’s going to say yes. Shitty winter or not, Bucky deserves a better friend that Steve’s been for a while now, and he wasn’t going to get anything done by just moping around in his dorm room.

“Fine,” he murmurs eventually, sitting down beside the mini-fridge, “but you’re buying the first drinks.”

Bucky’s smile is bright enough that it’s worth leaving the campus just for that.

………………………………………

Natasha, when she meets them outside the jazz bar, is as stunning as ever. She smiles at them warmly and pulls Steve into a hug with more fondness in her strong, sure touch than he probably deserves.

“It’s good to see you,” she murmurs in his ear, “I’m glad Bucky convinced you to come out tonight.” She pulls away to address the both of them, “Clint’s already inside. He saved us a table.”

Bucky grins. “Aces.”

Natasha offers Steve the crook of her arm, an artful brow raised in challenge. Steve rolls his eyes, but takes it anyway (never let it be said that Natasha never got her way). They follow behind Bucky, who’s all but vibrating with energy. Wilson must be good- it’s been a while since Steve’s seen him this excited for anyone.

The interior of the bar is exactly like Steve remembers- dimly lit, with dark furnishings and red leather stools, the exposed brick walls minimally decorated with black and white photographs and the odd framed poster. A permanent haze sits over the place, as though shrouded in cigarette smoke- though Steve knows smoking has been banned here for years. It’s more crowded than Steve was promised. Most tables and high seated stools are filled. This Wilson guy must be really good.

Natasha drags him over to one of the table’s right up the front that Clint has by some miracle obtained. Bucky disappears with mentions of getting them some drinks, and Clint bumps him after he gets settled on one of the spare stools, “Good to see you man! How’s college?”

Steve gives him a smile that he hopes is more genuine that it feels, “College is good. Last semester’s been pretty hectic- who knew a gallery opening would be so much work, right?”

Steve’s the last one at college now. He’d taken a semester off to work and take care of his mom just over a year ago. Then he’d gotten sick not long after she’d passed and that was another semester down the drain. Now he’s stuck in classes with people he doesn’t know, feeling old and out of place despite it not being the case at all.

Clint hums and gives him a crooked smile, “When’s the opening?”

“Next month,” Steve catches sight of Bucky, leaning against the bar and chatting with the bartender as though he owned the place, “I can get a hold of some tickets for the open night if you’d like.”

“Yes please,” Natasha purrs. Bucky returns, three beers and a coke gathered carefully between his hands. Some kind of stow-toned guitar music plays through the speakers- dark and sedate. It drags and reverberates through the air like some kind of sinister prowling predator, and Steve lets himself focus on the music and the steady chatter between his friends while he waits for the actual music to start.

A man hops up onto the stage at some point- several others trail in as he fiddles with the microphone over the piano. Bucky elbows him in the side and motions at the guy with his head, “That’s him!” and bless him, but he sounds so excited. Bucky adores Jazz.

Natasha smirks, “I know him, by the way.”

Bucky’s grin grows wider, “Yeah?”

“We work at the shelter together on Sundays. He’s a counsellor at the youth center.”

Steve nods absently as Natasha espouses his various qualities to Bucky. His eyes are drawn to Wilson working through his sound check; under the yellow lights is skin is like honey and chocolate. Steve likes the upturned corners of his mouth, like he’s constantly battling with a smile.  His voice over the mics is warm and lively and there’s a confidence and energy to his movements that Steve can’t help but admire; he wants to paint him in the scene, relaxed and at ease under the lights of the stage.

The club grows quieter and quieter, people waiting with anticipation for the band to start. The conversation between Bucky and Natasha peters off when the man finally settles at the grand piano. His cufflinks glint as his shakes himself out.

“Evening everyone,” he says, the hints of a smile at his lips turning into a friendly smirk easily enough, “hope Wednesday’s been treating you well enough. We’re Redwing Etcetera- it’s nice to be here again.” The other men in his group wave, and settle down with their own instruments, “We’re gonna start with a lively one to get the ball rolling, and then we’ll see where that takes us.”

Polite clapping fills the club and the music starts- a bright jazzy number that Steve vaguely recognises from Bucky’s collection.

And then Wilson opens his mouth and sings.

And yeah.

Yeah okay. Steve can see why Bucky likes him so much.

Rich and mellow, his voice rumbles through Steve’s empty chest, striking at something in his bones and he forgets about his woes, forgets about the anger and the depression and his stupid, useless body. His range is glorious and Steve never wants the song to end.

But like all good things, it does, and just as quickly as it came Steve loses that little piece of something to the applause. Bucky whistles loudly and Wilson grins over at them and winks.

Steve’s heart almost exits straight through his ribcage.

When the applause dies down again, the singer bends back into the microphone, “Glad you all like that- woulda been real awkward had you not.”

On the other side of their Table, Natasha rolls her eyes and shakes her head.

“This next one’s one of my own creations,” his voice turns somber, “I wrote this for a close friend of mine in a time of great need.”

The music starts; some slow piece with trumpet and piano and the faintest whiff of a snare drum and bass guitar. And Steve waits. Waits with bated breath even as the music pulls the emotions from him- all the feelings he’s been bottling away in himself, in his art and the letters he writes to his mother- out of reach now. When the words finally come, it’s almost like a surprise, and they catch him off guard.

You turned your back from us. My wingman, my friend I watched your colours fade to grey.

But I know you tried. You hid so well…

And-

God.

But this song is breaking him. The dragged out vocals, the sincerity and the sorrow, tinted with a subtle anger- why did you not say-  Steve’s sure he’s crying, but when he touches his cheeks they’re dry. He swallows back his emotions and wishes this would just. End. His face feels hot and tight- feverish. It’s as though this song was written about Steve. As though this Sam Wilson had read the letters he’d written and burnt- brother you smile, my skin don’t feel like mine- seen the art he’d hidden from Bucky and now he’s brought it out- strung it out for all these people in the club to laugh and stare at.

He brings his glass of coke to his mouth and silently wishes for it to just. Stop.

You turned the lock on more than just that door.”

Steve is fairly sure he’s in love.

We will all just fade someday…”

Everything Stays

I had like 5 Tae requests so I’m merging some T^T I wanna write more vamp!au stuff so there might be more (✿◠‿◠)

Originally posted by jitamin

Being best friends with a vampire wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. It wasn’t romantic piggy back rides through the forest, intense stares and danger. It was sad.  One day you’d be dead and Taehyung would remain the same, your memory just another blip on his radar, one tiny person lost amongst the hundreds and thousands souls he’d met and will meet in his eternity. You watched Tae as he laid sprawled out on your floor, his expression blank as he stared into nothing. He’d never revealed just how old he really was and every year when you asked how old he was turning he’d match his age with yours no matter how ridiculous it was.

You’d first met Taehyung when you were a kid, maybe 9 years old, when you’d gotten separated from your friends in the woods near your house. You’d come across him sprawled out on the grass under a tree, staring into nothing and you’d approached him, teary eyed and scared. He’d looked almost afraid to see you, jumping away from you like you, a tiny child, were about to hurt him. Taehyung had started to back away, deeper into the woods and in a panic you scrambled after him hoping he’d take you home but he ran faster and faster until he was gone and you were alone.

It was when you were crying and sitting in the dirt that you felt something poke you in the back. You jumped up, screaming as Taehyung shushed you. He was kneeling behind you, holding a stick between the two of you as he held a finger to his lips. You were happy, so relieved to see him. You had no idea who he was but looking at him, his swirling eyes calmed you. Your panic faded and you found yourself smiling, running towards him and laughing as he jerked back.

“Don’t touch me,” he said, his voice as soothing as his presence.  He led you out of the woods, keeping you at a safe distance by coaxing you to hold onto the other end of the stick, and left you at the tree line just behind your house. You’d returned day after day, finding him at the same place in the woods, and eventually he’d stopped being surprised to see you, stick laying ready beside him. He led you through the woods, marking trees so you wouldn’t get lost, showing you hidden lakes and flower beds. Weeks passed, months, and soon years. You’d grown from 9 to 14 in the blink of an eye to him and you’d become curious.

“How old are you?” you’d asked one afternoon, watching him climb up a tree way too high for you.

“How old are you?” he countered.

“14,”

“Then I’m 14,” he grinned down at you, climbing higher and higher at a pace that seemed impossible to you. You knew he was lying, there was no way in hell he was your age. His appearance had stayed the same in the 5 years you’d known him, but you didn’t ask him about it for another few years, you didn’t really care to be honest but you were curious. He’d opened up to you over the years, telling you about his brothers, why he liked the woods, the animals but he kept the stick, the same stick, to keep a certain level of distance between the two of you.

“You have not changed,” you’d said bluntly, a little tipsy on the alcohol you’d smuggled into the woods on your 17th birthday, “I mean, you literally have not aged a day since I met you,”

Tae turned to smirk at you, swigging from the bottle of whiskey in his hands, his messy hair held back by a red cap. He had strong features, a square jaw, thin lips and soft eyes that you swore you could see swirl with colour.

“That’s true,” he chuckled, his voice deeper than the ocean, “I’m the fairest of them all,”

“What’s you secret, Snow White,” you rolled your eyes and he met your gaze, flashing his goofy, rectangular smile.

“I’m a vampire,” he said casually and your eyes focused on his impressively sharp looking canines, “Do you believe me?”

You stared at him, his swirling eyes and you felt a familiar haze wash over you, a sense of comfort raising goose bumps on your skin. It wasn’t ridiculous, you weren’t surprised, shocked, scared or anything really. You focused on his features, the teeth, the old feeling he had to him.

“How old are you?” you grinned back as he rolled his eyes.

“I just turned 17,”

You chuckled at the memories, eyeing the way Taehyung laid sprawled out on your floor in the same way he used to lay in the woods. He really, literally, hadn’t changed since you were a kid. Taehyung had watched you grow up, change from a child to an adult and you wondered how he saw you, did it go slow for him? Fast? Everything around him changed and yet he remained the same, outside of time.

“Stop staring,” he laughed, his gaze softening as he turned his head towards you, “Weirdo,”

It was eerie, to say the least, how Taehyung could go from blank faced and expressionless to giggly and smiley in two seconds. His hair was messy, fringe falling into his eyes as he sat up, crossing his legs. He was cute, almost innocent in appearance as he stared back at you. His expression seemed calm but his eyes looked they had this fire inside them; it was as if he was seeing everything all at once and you recognised the feeling that swept across your skin in a misty haze. It was his ‘talent’, you called his hypnotising and he called it manipulation but whatever it was, you liked it. The way it felt, the way his eyes swirled, like ripples in a tide pool, it suited him more than you could express. 

“What,” you drawled, sinking down onto the ground as you yawned. You crawled across the floor rolling onto your back beside Tae’s knees.  He looked down at you, flashing his sharp teeth as he laughed.

“Tired?” he grinned.

“Nope,” you denied, lifting your torso to rest on his thigh. Most people found Tae intimidating, untouchable, but you couldn’t see it. Taehyung was comfortable, easy to be with and you found yourself preferring to hang out with him more than anyone else. You felt Tae run his fingers through your hair, softly tilting your head to the side and exposing the smooth skin of your neck. This is what you did these days, lay around, if he felt like it Tae would drink from you. You’d come to enjoy it, as weird as that sounded. He’d been completely against feeding from you at first and he’d use his ‘manipulation’ to dull your curiosity, but on your 19th birthday his resistance faded as you laid on your bed, arms behind your head. He stood by your door, soft eyes trailing over you. It was the first time you’d actually seen him as a vampire, as anything other than your friend, and his eyes seemed to sharpen as you smirked at him.

“Don’t tempt me,” he’d growled, eyes swirling but your curiosity wasn’t fading, instead you felt heightened, excited as he moved towards you. That night was your first time in a lot of ways, not just having an immortal man drink your blood. You stared up at Taehyung, heat beating faster and faster as his hands moved across your skin.

“How old are you?” You sighed as Taehyung leaned down, pressing his lips to your forehead.

“Don’t you ever get tired of asking?” he breathed, sliding his hands down your stomach to tug at the hem of your shirt. You shook your head, arching your back so he could pull it off of you. Taehyung pressed his lips to yours.

“I’m much, much, much,” he whispered between kisses, moving to drag his sharp teeth to graze your collarbones, “much older than you,”

anonymous asked:

"I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere." Jaydick.

Title: I Know

Rating: T

Pairing: JayDick

_________________

Groggy, glazed over cobalts eyes bluer than the ocean opened slowly to a blurry white ceiling. Dick knew where he was instantly, even through the haze of painkillers. He had counted all the ceiling tiles–32–of this room in the Batcave’s medical bay several times over. It was hard not to forget. Even harder to forget the feel of a familiar hand holding his, gently, like it might crumble under his or her touch.

“Dick?” A thick, shaking voice draws him out of the fog.

Jason. They had been fighting. Gunshot. Jason.

“Jay?” His eyes roll around until he finds Jason, who is pale and whose eyes are red-rimmed. “Jay? Wha…?”

He watches the younger man stands and practically drape himself over the bed, rough hands petting his face. “I’m so sorry… Fuck… I…”

Oh, he remembers now. They were fighting both thugs and each other. Jason had said he hated Dick. He can remember the sting in his heart, the anger in Jason’s voice, the shock, and the pain. Finally, the gun. He had stopped fighting, mind on loop,–I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!–and he didn’t see the guy with the gun.

Neither did Jason.

“I don’t hate you. I’m sorry. Fuck, I thought… You were dying… You…” There is a break in Jason’s voice and he realizes Jason must have been terrified. “I didn’t… I didn’t mean it…”

“Shh, Jay… It’s okay… Hey, c'mon.” Curling his fingers in the antihero’s shirt, he swallows to clear his throat before tugging Jason into the empty spot beside him. “Calm down…”

Jason, nearly twice Dick’s size, wiggles into tiny space next to him, sniffling and clutching at him in a way that reminds him of a time where Jason was a kid, angry and a bit lonely. “Fuck… I thought you were going to die… I… I didn’t mean to s-say that.”

“Oh, Jay… I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere.” He cranes his neck to kiss the younger man’s head. “You didn’t mean it, I know, you were just angry. It’s alright. This isn’t your fault.”

Jason stays quiet for a long time after that, but he’s stopped snuffing so Dick counts that as a win. He knew Jason didn’t mean it. Though the antihero isn’t quite one to overuse “I love you,” Dick knows Jason says it in his actions. Words are Jason’s weakness and deadliest weapon. He can’t ever say what he feels, but he can certainly use words to hurt. He doesn’t even have to lie. He can hurt with the truth. It’s both artistic and awful. In this case, however, Jason had to lie.

“I don’t ever want you to think I hate you when I love you the most,” Jason whispers meekly. “I… I love you.”

“I know, Jay.” He kisses Jason’s white tuff of hair once more. “I know.”

I love you, too.

isles of the blessed

Greek mythology is drawing my muse out of hiding. This little drabble details what happens to Liam Jones after everything else. Based on the story of the Isles of the Blessed and the reincarnation of souls.

His last memories of the Underworld are a jumble of sensations, pressing in on him from all sides. The last thing he sees is the watery smile on his little brother’s face and the flash of a red leather jacket. The brimstone of the Underworld gives way to the scent of brine on a warm breeze. The dark, smokey haze of the bottomless cave transforms into the bright blue of a cloudless sky, the sun reflecting off of the waves before him.

The sun warms any last echoes of the chill from the caves as his boots sink into the white sand beneath him. He hears the chirps of birds as they swoop low over the breaking waves, a sound from so long ago it startles him.

“Welcome to the Isles, Liam.”

Liam turns to find a young woman with dark, curly hair swathed in robes of white. Killian’s eyes, his own eyes, level him with a gaze he hasn’t seen in centuries - not since he was a small boy clutching at the ends of a frayed skirt.

“Mother,” Liam breathes as he takes in her appearance. “I don’t understand…”

“Who I am is not important,” she says as she motions to the pale skin of her cheek with a delicate hand. “I am no one and anyone. I appear to you this way because this is how you have chosen to see me.”

Liam shifts in the sand as he takes in more of his surroundings. “So if you’re not real, is any of this real? Is this another trick of Hades’?”

“No, this is not a trick - it is a beginning.”

Keep reading

The Price

Summary - Magic comes with a price.

Sometimes, it’s immediate, like having the darkness forced into you, other times, fate waits.The new minted Dark One, Killian Jones, may think his first curse is nothing more than a bit of ripe punishment for royals of the Enchanted Forest. Until he meets an enchanting Bounty Hunter in a tavern twenty nine years later.

After all, magic always comes with a price.


‘You aren’t the Dark One.’

The Evil Queen’s voice echoed around the cavernous hall of the castle that now belonged to the new minted Dark One. Killian Jones quirked his eyebrows at the newcomer and removed his boot from the giant oak table. He had been lounging in contemplation of what comes next – what did one do after emerging victor after a two hundred year feud? His blue eyes narrowed on the black-clad monarch as she strode the length of the hall in an imperious manner. Her black dress glittered when it caught the light streaming in through the floor to ceiling windows on the south wall.

Keep reading

White Dogs on Blue Cotton, an InuKag ficlet

**Takes place two nights after Kagome’s return to the Feudal Era. It’s…. kind of a reunion fic. Kind of. From Kagome’s pov.

LOTS of kissing and kinda intimate stuff in this, but like… sweet intimate? It doesn’t cross the T+ line, but I just want everyone to know so 

I dunno. The idea came to me while shopping today, and I thought it was cute. \0o0)//


Summary: Caught up in the rush following her unexpected return to the past, Kagome realizes a little late that some wardrobe choices aren’t quite as private as they used to be. (sugary-sweet sappy fluff and light humor)

Keep reading

OUAT - The Price

So, after I put my preview up yesterday, I was blown away by the response I had for it. As I put in my preview note, I have written this for AU Week, and to be honest, I’m surprised it has been finished in time. I suppose it mostly fits as a bit of Canon Div and completely AU.

Tagging @lenfaz, @galadriel26, @katealexandra26, @katniss-annabeth-luna-jones

@nfbagelperson

Sorry if I missed anyone


Rating - Mature

Summary - Magic always comes with a price. Sometimes, it’s immediate, like having the darkness forced into you, other times, fate waits.

The new minted Dark One, Killian Jones, may think his first curse is nothing more than a bit of ripe punishment for royals of the Enchanted Forest. Until he meets an enchanting Bounty Hunter in a tavern twenty nine years later.

After, magic comes with a price.



‘You aren’t the Dark One.’

The Evil Queen’s voice echoed around the cavernous hall of the castle that now belonged to the new minted Dark One. Killian Jones quirked his eyebrows at the newcomer and removed his boot from the giant oak table. He had been lounging in contemplation of what comes next – what did one do after emerging victor after a two hundred year feud? His blue eyes narrowed on the black-clad monarch as she strode the length of the hall in an imperious manner. Her black dress glittered when it caught the light streaming in through the floor to ceiling windows on the south wall.

‘Well, Your Majesty,’ replied Captain Hook, with a wave of his hand. In the swirl of smoke, a dagger of ornate design appeared in his hand. He twisted it in the light showing Regina his name engraved in the wavy blade. ‘You are very much mistaken.’

Her hazel eyes zeroed in on the dagger. Killian smirked as he flicked his wrist, the dagger vanishing as quickly as it had appeared to return to its place deep in the vault below the castle. He may well be the new incarnate of the Dark One, but he was a centuries-old pirate. He knew a murderous look when he saw one.

Keep reading

whispering-brook  asked:

I was reading through all of your werewolf AU because, Ya know, it is possibly the best thing ever. And I came across the vampires vs werewolf vote. Now I am curious as to what would have been in it? Also curious about HOW the vampire smut would have been like.You made your own twist on the werewolves and it works REALLY well, but what would have been your twist on vampires? Would it be the burning in the sun or the sparkling?That kind of thing. (I am not comparing you to twilight.I'm not mean.)

Over a hundred million copies sold worldwide? Comparing me to Twilight would be a compliment in my book. 

Keep reading