#I feel like I just unlocked something magical in my brain bless

[gravelyhumerus]

Criminal Minds College AU - Chapter Nine

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Title: “I may just take your breath away”

Relationship: Jemily

Chapter Summary:

Emily and JJ sleep together.

Slow-burn Jemily college AU where they live across the hall and despite all odds, the universe pushes them together. AKA they’re silly gay babies who pine after each other for months.

Read it on AO3

Tumblr:  One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten, Eleven, Twelve, Thirteen, Fourteen, Fifteen, Sixteen, (bonus scene), Seventeen, Eighteen, Nineteen, Twenty, Epilogue

Content warning: detailed descriptions of sickness, abortion mention.

—

Jennifer Jareau looked like a drowned rat.

A pretty, blonde, sniffly drowned rat that Emily Prentiss had a massive crush on. 

She was soaked head to toe, her running shoes muddy and her hair slicked to her skull. She was shivering and looking absolutely miserable. Over her shoulder was her blue duffel bag full of her soccer equipment. It was a Monday, so Emily knew JJ had a practice that afternoon. 

“Pen locked me out of our room,” JJ said without greeting as she walked into Emily’s room, “And I need a towel.”

“Hello to you too, Jayje,” Emily said sarcastically. 

She stepped back to let her friend enter, shivering at the thought of having to play soccer in the pouring rain, let alone a rainy November afternoon when the temperature was verging on freezing. Ever since the brutal storm on Halloween, the weather had been dreary and wet.

 Emily could see the field from her window, it was across the street by the Arts building. While she, and the rest of their friends, made a point to go to all of JJ’s games together and cheer her on, Emily was thankful that the weather had been ok so far, she wasn’t sure how much hypothermia she could handle for one girl. 

She grabbed her bath towel and tossed it JJ’s way, and opened her closet to find a cozy sweater to offer. Well, Emily thought, she probably would take hypothermia to support JJ, she just wouldn’t be happy about it. 

JJ was simultaneously drying her hair and rifling through her bag. She was still shivering from the cold.

“I left my keys when I ran out of my room this morning,” JJ explained, “And Pen promised she’d be here when it was over.”

“I think she’s teaching Hotch how to knit at his dorm,” Emily said with a laugh, having seen her Insta story a few minutes prior of Hotch struggling with his hands tangled in yarn. 

“Just wish she would’ve left the door unlocked,” JJ muttered, “I think I have my spare keys in here somewhere.”

“Here, take this,” Emily said, handing her a grey hoodie with “Oxford” written on the chest, a souvenir from when she lived in England. 

Emily turned around so JJ could at least get out of her wet shirt and into the sweater. For a second, the devil on her shoulder told her to look into the mirror on her closet door, that if she did she’d catch a glimpse of JJ shirtless, but Emily shook her head slightly, squeezing her eyes shut. Guilt flared in her stomach at the thought.

She’s been thinking about JJ too much lately. 

Their kiss. Their magical life changing kiss. The kiss to end all kisses. That was basically all Emily’s brain could focus on these days. 

Before that, her fantasies about Jennifer Jareau were simply fantasies, but now! Now she had her memories. That kiss lingered on her lips and on her brain and in her dreams. Sometimes late at night Emily has found herself putting a thumb onto her cheek, closing her eyes and pretending it was JJ’s hands pulling her closer, just as she had done in the basement on Halloween. 

If she had to describe how she felt, the only thing that made sense was to say that Emily was absolutely smitten with JJ. 

But, and there was always a but, they hadn’t mentioned the kiss since. Not even a word of acknowledgement between the two. 

The day after, when she and Derek walked to class, he interrogated her about what the hell happened , but Emily genuinely didn’t know. What she did know was that it wasn’t Emily who instigated, she thought, it was JJ who had pulled her tight and whose tongue swept across hers. 

That week, Emily had grown more and more concerned that she had crossed a line. JJ had started acting strangely, looking away anytime Emily looked at her and telling her that she was too busy to hang out. Then, that weekend JJ had surprised her with a party. A party to celebrate Emily, and Reid and Hotch.

Emily realized that JJ wasn’t ignoring her, instead she was scheming something to make Emily happy. And what had she done? Cried in the bathroom and made a scene. Instead of JJ realizing that Emily was a broken shell of a girl and running far from her, JJ had held her tight and told her everything was going to be ok.

Emily didn’t tell her everything that day, not about all the awful things she did to fit in as a teen, about her mistakes, her abortion, about Matthew… Not yet. Emily had tucked all of that into a box that need not be opened up any time soon.

So now, Emily had the thoughts of JJ’s lips dancing around her brain, but also of her hand in hers, her arms around her and the way she promised she’d always be there.

This got in the way when Emily was trying to focus on other things like school or carrying on a conversation with the blonde. 

JJ sneezed, startling Emily out of her thoughts. She turned back around and looked at JJ, who’s hair was slightly less wet and was now wearing her hoodie and looking a little bit warmer. 

“À tes souhaits,” Emily said, saying bless you in French.

“I hope I’m not getting sick,” JJ grumbled, dumping some pens out of her backpack in search of the elusive keys. “Kennedy’s gotten half the team out with the flu.”

She sneezed again.

“Gesundheit,” Emily said, having fun with her languages. 

“She got it from her boyfriend,” JJ continued, “You remember Anderson? On the water polo team?” 

Emily nodded, taking a seat on the edge of her desk, watching JJ sitting on her bed in her clothes, imagining a completely different situation where she would do that. (Emily’s thoughts were full of comments like these, her imagination going wild at the prospect of JJ maybe liking her back.)

“I’m going to kill Garcia,” JJ said, “She told me she’d be in our room after our game.”

“Aha!” JJ said, pulling her lanyard out of a pencil case. “Got them. Thanks Em for the towel. You’re the best neighbour I could ever ask for.”

JJ handed it back, and Emily took the slightly damp towel and hung it up on the back of her closet.

“Anytime,” Emily said, “Though I think this may be an elaborate plot to steal all of my clothes.”

JJ looked down at herself.

“I think it suits me!”

Emily had to agree.

 ———

Two days later, JJ was at Emily’s door again, but looking a lot worse for wear. 

A pink fuzzy blanket was wrapped around her shoulders, she was wearing oversized sweatpants and a sports bra, and her hair was messy and tucked behind her ears. Her nose was red and her skin looked pale.

“Hey Em,” JJ rasped.

“You’re sick,” Emily pointed out, unhelpfully.

“Nice work, Sherlock,” she said, coughing into her blanketed arm. 

“What’s up?” Emily asked, leaning on the door frame.

“I’m out of cold pills and can’t sleep,” JJ said.

“It’s like nine pm?” Emily said, the statement coming out as a question. 

“I have practice at six in the morning,” JJ said, adjusting the blanket around her shoulders, sniffling a little. The girl was swaying as she stood. 

“You cannot actually be going to practice in that state,” Emily said.

“What state?” JJ barely managed to get out between sneezes.

“ Bless you ,” Emily said, knowing the girl definitely needed it. 

Emily went to her desk, rummaging through a drawer. She found the very end of a cold and flu medicine pack, the kind with day and nighttime pills and handed them to JJ. 

“Those good?” Emily asked. 

JJ nodded and thanked her, before trudging back across the hall. 

Before her door closed Emily said: “ Please take a break JJ!”

“I’m fine,” came the nasal voice of her friend, followed by the sound of her blowing her nose. 

 ———

On Wednesday, JJ showed up to their weekly French study date somehow looking even more sick. There were bags under her eyes, and a wracking cough made her entire body shutter with its force. 

JJ continued to insist that she was fine, despite the fact that she spent more time coughing than speaking French.

Emily was worried about her, but knew at this point, nothing she would say would make the very determined girl slow down. 

 ——— 

On Thursday, Emily walked into the girls’ bathroom, toothbrush in hand before bed, and found JJ curled up on the floor next to the toilet, looking pale as a sheet.

“JJ, oh my god,” Emily said, pushing open the semi ajar door and kneeling down next to her friend. 

“Mmm fine,” JJ made out, her face in her arms, not lifting her head to talk to Emily.

“This is the exact opposite of fine, JJ,” Emily said.

She had absolutely no idea how to help her. 

Emily thought back to all the times she had been sick, and it had usually been whatever staff her mother had had at the time who took care of her. Nannies, cooks, assistants would bring her food, take her temperature and put buckets next to her bed. Ambassador Prentiss wasn’t the kind of mom that Emily would see on TV worried about her child when they were sick. 

“Do you want water?” Emily asked, feeling helpless.

JJ shook her head, not raising it from the edge of the toilet.

“The floor is nice and cold,” JJ said, “I like it here.”

Emily almost laughed, and would have if she wasn’t so worried about the other girl.

“What do you need, JJ?” Emily asked.

“Nothing,” JJ said, “I can handle this.”

JJ’s hair hung limp around her face, and Emily leaned forward, taking the elastic from around her wrist and helped JJ pull her hair back. Emily couldn’t help, but she could at least keep JJ’s hair from getting puke on it.

Clearly hitting another wave of nausea, JJ moved, emptying the rest of her stomach into the toilet and then flushing. Emily rubbed her arm up and down her back, hoping that the motions would be comforting. 

While the toilet did its thing, JJ sat back, leaning against the grey stall door, her shoulder resting against Emily’s. Her head was tilted back and her eyes closed tightly against the fluorescent lights. 

“I really don’t feel good, Em,” JJ whimpered. 

“I know,” Emily said, “What do you want?”

“Water,” JJ croaked. 

“I’ll get some,” Emily said, patting JJ on the shoulder. JJ nodded, returning to her hunched over position on the toilet.

Emily basically sprinted down the hall, and spotting JJ’s slightly ajar door, she pushed it open to find Penelope sitting at her computer.

“Hello my beautiful goth friend,” Penelope said, “How may I be of service to you?”

“JJ’s currently puking her guts out,” Emily explained, slightly breathless, “She’s asking for water.”

“Oh my poor dear,” she said, pushing back from her desk and hurrying over to JJ’s night-side table to retrieve her water. “She told me she was going to shower, I didn’t think she was that bad.”

“She kept telling me she was fine,” Emily said, “Even while she puked.”

“Typical,” Penelope huffed, following Emily down the hall, “Can’t show any weakness. Both of you! I’m sick of it.”

Emily didn’t say anything, not sure if she could argue that accusation. She followed Penelope into the bathroom, hovering by the sink as Penelope took over her caregiving responsibilities. 

She gently felt JJ’s forehead, and held up her water bottle for JJ to rinse her mouth. 

“Let’s get you to bed,” Penelope said after a few minutes without any puke. “Em? Help us?

JJ stook shakily, and when Emily took her arm, JJ leaned into her, putting most of her weight on the taller girl. Penelope carried JJ’s water and shower things back for her, letting Emily take care of the dizzy JJ.

Penelope held the door open, and Emily guided JJ into bed, hovering awkwardly as JJ nestled into her bed and Penelope grabbed their trash bin and placed it next to her. 

“I’ve got it from here, Em,” Penelope said, patting her on the shoulder. 

“Feel better JJ,” she said, backing away, unable to take her eyes off the girl, who looked paler than she’d ever seen her. 

“I miss you already,” JJ rasped out, her eyes still closed, curling up on her side and pulling the blankets up over her shoulder. 

Emily smiled before leaving the room. She was worried about her but knew Penelope would take better care of JJ than Emily could ever. 

 ———

She and Hotch spent almost five days straight crammed inside a tiny study room in the arts library working on a criminal psych presentation. It was worth almost half their grade.

They had commandeered the tiny room, booking it for the entire block of time each day, and only really leaving it to eat and sleep. At first, their friends would join them, popping in to provide moral support, but as the deadline neared, and Hotch and Emily grew more frantic, their friends mostly left them alone besides for the occasional reminder to take a break.

According to Penelope who periodically texted Emily with updates, JJ spent most of the time sleeping, and having been given time off from soccer and extensions on her school work, Penelope had finally convinced her to focus on recovery. 

It was in the library when Emily began to sniffle. It was an annoying nasal drip that tickled her nose and made her feel like she constantly needed to blow her nose. 

Unfortunately, she was not the kind of girl who had tissues on her. Emily wasn’t particularly well prepared in that respect. She dug through her backpack only to find a pair of tangled headphones, chapstick and two tampons. She briefly considered sticking those in her nose and calling it a day but thought Hotch would probably pass out at the sight of that.

An hour in, Hotch got so fed up with her constant sniffling that he stole a roll of paper towel from the boys washroom and threw it at her when he returned. 

The scratchy paper made her nose sensitive and red. She learned about the redness when Hotch called her “Rudolph” to get her attention.  

As the day ticked on, Emily began to feel either too hot, or too cold. She chalked this up to the library’s dodgy heating system and the colder November weather. 

After lunch, the sneezing started. 

“You’re sick, Prentiss,” Hotch told her.

“No of course not,” Emily said. “I don’t get sick. It’s just allergies.”

“What are you allergic to?” 

“Uhh,” Emily looked around, “Dust?”

“Sure.”

Emily was not sick. She couldn’t afford to get sick. Sure, she had spent a lot of time in close proximity to JJ, who was still spending her most time with her face in a bin, but Emily didn’t need this now. 

She was certainly aware she had had the exact conversation with JJ, encouraging the other girl to take a break to recover. Emily could talk the talk but couldn’t walk the walk on self care.

When she woke up the next morning. She felt even worse. Her throat was sore, she had a headache and she couldn’t breathe through her nose. Having given JJ all of her cold medicine, she powered through, drinking an endless barrage of hot tea, hoping it would heal her. 

She had too much to do. 

Days passed with Emily pushing herself to exhaustion, working all day, making it to her extra curricular meetings and only falling asleep during a few of her lectures. 

The day of her presentation, Emily’s entire body hurt. She had barely slept the night before, as her sneezing kept her up. She managed to wear a pair of leggings and a sweater, but tied her hair back in a ponytail, too exhausted to do much else.  

“You look like shit,” Hotch told her when she showed up to their class, shaking his head. 

“Thanks, I feel like it too,” Emily quipped. “I haven’t thrown up yet though, so I count that as a victory.”

In a feat of sheer willpower, Emily made it through her presentation before collapsing into the fold out lecture hall seat, her head laid back, immediately falling asleep and sleeping through the other four group presentations. 

After class, Hotch felt her forehead with his hand and announced that she had a fever. He then frog marched her straight to the clinic, pointing out that her hands shook and that she couldn’t do anything without coughing up a storm. 

Emily was sure if it was not for his American Law seminar with mandatory attendance, he would be right next to her, ensuring she actually saw a doctor.

“The doctor will call you when it’s your turn dear,” the receptionist told her as she handed Emily’s student card back to her. 

Emily nodded and grabbed some hand sanitizer, rubbing the cold liquid over her hands. 

She sighed, which turned into a cough that tore through her lungs. She found a spot in the waiting room, under a gigantic poster about STDs. To her left was a small table covered with pamphlets about mental health resources and a big bowl of condoms. 

The door to the clinic opened again and Emily shivered. The early November breeze was starting to chill her to the bone. She lifted the hood to her black sweater over her head, hoping to conserve some more heat that way. 

Emily glanced at the new patient and was not entirely surprised to see JJ walking towards her.

“Fancy meeting you here,” Emily said as JJ walked into the waiting room.

“I hear I gave you my plague?” JJ asked, shrugging her backpack off her shoulders. 

Emily nodded and coughed. 

“Sorry,” JJ sat down next to her.

“What are you doing here?” Emily asked, “You look a lot better than you did.”

“Hotch told me you needed an escort,” JJ said, “And I was in the neighbourhood. He said something about not trusting you to actually go to the doctor’s.”

Emily laughed at that. 

“You’re my babysitter?” Emily asked. 

“I’m whatever you want me to be,” JJ said with a wink. “I think half of my team is out of commission with this. I’ve never been so sick, I’m glad I’m on the mend.”

Emily nodded, counting the days in her head and realizing that JJ had been out for over a week. 

“You look better than you did,” Emily commented.

“Thanks,” JJ said, sarcastically, “At least I’m not puking anymore.”

“I never get sick,” Emily coughed, “I just want something for the cough and I’ll be fine.”

Emily coughed into her elbow, as if reminded.

“How did your presentation go?” JJ asked. 

Emily’s heart swelled at the thought that JJ paid attention to her.

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Emily said. “I feel really out of it. Hotch marched me straight here after so probably not great.” 

“Emily Prentiss?” A nurse called out.

Emily gathered up her things, shot JJ a wave and went into the exam room. 

Her doctor, a surly elderly white woman, with greying hair tied back in a low bun, barely looked at her, asking Emily a series of questions.

“What are your symptoms?” she finally asked. 

Emily explained how her head cold transformed into something a touch more debilitating, making sure to avoid downplaying her symptoms, because she knew they would take any opportunity to send her home telling her to drink water and rest. Emily did not have time to rest. 

The doctor took her vitals, listened to her lungs, grimacing at the sound of them, then took her oxygen, noting them in her chart.

Emily wasn’t a doctor but the face she made at her oxygen levels meant that they were definitely not good. 

The sudden onset of chills left her shivering on the examination table as the doctor took notes on her chart.

She checked her phone, smiling as she noticed that she had a notification from the one and only cheetobreath98.

It was a selfie, taken surreptitiously from below in the waiting room, captioned, “plague lookz!”

Emily found herself smiling. A small flame with the number 27 was next to JJ’s name. They had a streak. It was childish, but the visible marker of the fact that they had talked every day for a month, sometimes for hours at a time, sending silly photos back and forth. 

“You have a chest cold. Bronchitis. We want to nip it in the bud before it becomes pneumonia,” the doctor said, spinning in her chair to face her. “We see it a lot with students, you all work too hard.”

Emily nodded, not really agreeing with the sentiment, but understanding the feeling behind it. Emily had to work hard. 

“Take this inhaler three times daily, at least,” he said, “And any time you’re having difficulty breathing. You can take some acetaminophen for the fever.”

He explained how to use it. 

“You cannot drink, smoke or take any recreational drugs on this medication,” he warned. 

Emily, who had vowed to not smoke for the duration of her illness anyways, hoping to preserve her fragile lugs, nodded.

“Try honey for the sore throat. Lots of liquids.”

She nodded.

“Come back if you’re not better in a week,” he concluded. “Your prescription will be  there for pick up at the pharmacy.”

“Thanks doc,” Emily smiled, taking her leave, placing her mask back on for the hallway.

In the hall she pulled out her phone, opened Snapchat and took a selfie with the waiting room in the background. 

“Ya girl’s got bronchitis!!” Emily captioned it, sending it to JJ, as well as Derek and Hotch. They would enjoy her misery. 

Immediately Derek texted her.  

Derek 🕺: suuuuucks bro. need some soup?

Emily: i’ll be fine but thanks 

Emily: i feel like shit. the doctor gave me a puffer lol

Derek🕺: must be bad, I hear they usually just prescribe rest. Your lungs must suck 

Emily: typical, id assume they’d be in pristine condition 

Derek🕺: 🙄

Derek🕺: you literally smoke cigarettes 

Emily laughed at her phone and walked up to the receptionist to fill out the paperwork. The nice woman smiled at her and told her to get well soon. 

As JJ met her in the foyer, phone vibrated with another text. 

Derek🕺: you coming back to res?

Emily: ya, hotch sent jj to baby sit me

Derek🕺: wasn’t she the one who got you sick? now shes taking care of u

Derek🕺: did u make out or something??

Emily: shut up that was before she was sick

“Get any good drugs?” JJ whispered to her conspiratorially as they walked out together. 

Emily laughed louder than she expected, which manifested in wracking coughs between the two girls. 

“Actually yeah,” Emily held up the prescription. “Only because you got me sick.”

“Everyone is sick, how can you be sure it was me? Anyways I had the flu, not bronchitis.”

“You’ve been cooped up with Hotch all weekend. Maybe he got you sick.”

“I don’t think Hotch can get sick,” Emily muttered. 

They went to the pharmacy together, picking up Emily’s drugs. Emily also added some acetaminophen to her haul, cough drops and a pack of tissues, the kind with moisturizer per JJ’s suggestion. 

As Emily waited in line to cash out, swaying a little with the exertion of standing up, JJ left for a second and then returned with a box of tea. 

“I’ll make us some,” JJ said, “It’ll heal you.”

Emily felt warm, despite the chill of the store. She wasn’t sure if it was her fever or her growing love for Jennifer Jareau.

Together, they walked to their residence. Once inside, Emily wondered if JJ actually meant it when she offered the tea. 

Emily opened her door, tossing her things on her desk. She took her puffer out of the bag, read the instructions before taking a dose, trying to keep the medicine in her lungs as she breathed deep, holding back the coughing. 

The sun had started setting earlier and earlier as winter neared, and outside of Emily’s windows, the street lamps turned on. 

Emily desperately wanted it to work. She felt like a zombie, exhausted and either too hot or two cold all at once. 

She changed into a pair of pyjama pants, a black crewneck sweater with a band logo on the chest, and a pair of fuzzy socks, and pulled a blanket around her shoulders, wondering if she should just crawl into bed or if JJ’s offer still stood. 

“Em!” JJ called out as she knocked on her door, “Kettle’s boiling.”

Emily’s heart soared. The sentence felt so… domestic. She hurried across the hall, inhaler in hand (just in case), standing hesitantly in the doorway. JJ had changed into grey sweatpants and a soft green hoodie with her gold-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, looking much comfier than she had.

“Sit down!” JJ encouraged, “If you feel as gross as I do, you’ll need it.”

Emily did, relaxing on JJ’s bed, leaning into the mountain of comfortable pillows and breathing a sigh of relief in not standing any longer. A deep exhaustion had settled into bones, not helped by the long lecture that morning and the clinic visit. 

JJ walked over, handing her a mug and sitting on the bed next to her, taking a sip of her own mug. 

It was the same tea as before, sleepy time, with the warm combination of chamomile, mint, and other fruity tastes greeting her like a hug. She clutched it with two hands, enjoying how the mug radiated heat and warmed her chilly fingers. 

“Thank you,” Emily managed, her voice sounding a bit less scratchy to her ears than before.

“Any time,” JJ replied, “It’s nice to have company.”

Emily looked away, suddenly feeling shy. Should she stay? Was she welcome to hang out? Emily wasn’t sure if she wanted to stay, she didn’t want JJ to see how gross she was with her messy hair, stuffy nose and endless sneezing. 

JJ clearly looked better than she did earlier that week, Emily taking her place as token invalid in residence.

“I was going to watch tv,” JJ said, “I don’t think I could handle doing homework right now.”

“Oh I’ll go,” Emily said, taking the hint and moving to climb off the bed. JJ’s arm stuck out, grabbing her shoulder and stopping her. 

“No, Em,” JJ said, “I was wondering if you wanted to join me. ”

Oh. Emily felt her face break into a smile. She relaxed into the bed as JJ grabbed her laptop and set it between them, she pulled a fluffy sky-blue blanket, and draped it over her legs, then over Emily’s. 

There was the noise of keys in the door, Emily felt herself pull away from JJ, leaning away from her friend as if they had been caught doing something wrong.

Penelope Garcia opened the door, followed shortly after by Derek Morgan who was carrying two large take out bowls of soup. 

“I knew I’d find you here,” Derek said, handing each of them a bowl. 

“How are my two sick dears?” Penelope cooed, as she collected a textbook from her desk. 

Emily tried to speak, coughing instead, and JJ reached out to steady her bowl, knowing that she would spill if she wasn’t careful. 

She decided not to acknowledge Derek's comment because even Emily didn’t know she would be in JJ’s room, how could he? 

“Just about as bad as you would expect,” JJ said. 

Emily nodded, recovering from her fit. 

“We won’t keep you!” Penelope replied, “we have a study date! Enjoy your movie night. Don’t forget to text me if either of you need anything tonight. I’ll be back late.”

Penelope looked at them and frowned. 

“I may quarantine away from you, I do not want to catch that.”

“Get some sleep, guys” Derek said. “You look like shit.” 

“Thanks,” Emily said, thick with sarcasm. 

“Toodles!” Penelope said as they left.

The door shut, and the two girls began to sip the soup. It was chicken noodle and had cooled to the perfect temperature. 

“What do you wanna watch?” JJ asked between spoonfuls. 

Emily thought about her comfort tv and movies: The X Files. Or Star Trek: The Voyage Home (the one with the whales, exclusively, because she finds it silly and always makes her feel better). They were so nerdy. She couldn’t look JJ in the eye and reveal how much of a nerd she was. 

“I’m not sure,” she said instead, “Did you have something in mind?”

“I usually watch cooking shows,” JJ said, “To be honest. Or Gilmore Girls, Parks and Rec, or-”

JJ stopped herself. 

“Or what?” Emily prodded.

“Twilight ,” JJ admitted. 

Emily laughed.

“I haven’t seen it,” Emily commented, “I missed that phase I guess.”

“Oh you have to,” JJ said, getting excited, “It’s fantastic. And bad. It’s both at once. I was team Edward.”

Emily knew that was the vampire; she didn’t live under a rock, she just hadn’t actually seen the films. 

JJ began to babble, between coughs, about how as a kid she read each book as they came out, and even had a poster of the cast on her wall. Emily simply basked in her company and the excitement of watching something she cared about. 

Emily found herself cuddled up next to JJ, eating their soup and watching Twilight .

Between the warmth of JJ’s bed, the soothing soup and finally relaxing, Emily suddenly felt slightly better. Maybe taking a break to recover was actually a good thing. 

Emily almost laughed at the thought that it only took a case of bronchitis to get her in JJ’s bed. 

As the movie wore on, Emily’s exhaustion, and full stomach overtook her. The two girls wrapped in a blanket made it quickly warm and comforting, and as Bella discovered that Edward was a vampire, Emily felt her eyelids drooping. 

She tried to fight the feeling, but soon, Emily was fast asleep next to JJ. 

 ———

Emily woke up, hours later, in the dark with another blanket wrapped around her, JJ’s laptop nowhere in sight and no memory of anything she had just watched.

JJ was curled up into her side and was snoring quietly. 

Emily stiffened, at the reality of her current situation. She needed to relax or she would wake JJ up. Her back was to the wall, and JJ’s prone body blocked her exit. 

Her mind moved a mile a minute. JJ must’ve put away the laptop and given her another blanket, chosen not to wake Emily up. She wanted to sleep in the same bed.

What did this mean? Did JJ want to sleep next to her? Did JJ like her?

She thought hard about this, but she knew there was no way this was romantic . This must just be how close, female friendships went. Emily’s feelings for JJ were clouding her judgment. 

Emily was never invited to sleepovers, or had any close girl friends before, this is probably just what she was missing out on. 

God, she thought, maybe it’s good that nobody liked me. I would have caught feelings and made it weird. Just like I’m doing right now. 

Emily examined JJ’s face, which was only inches from her own. Gazing at each freckle, her long light brown eyelashes, her perfect eyebrows. Her pink lips were slightly parted, brealths coming out softly.

JJ shifted closer, as she, in her sleep, was probably moving toward Emily’s warmth unconsciously. 

Emily closed her eyes and basked in that moment. 

Before she knew it, JJ rolled around onto her other side, and Emily was left staring at the back of her blonde head. 

Missing the warmth, Emily tugged the blanket further around her shoulders. 

Emily looked around JJ’s darkened room, at the empty bed across the room. Penelope, true to her word, was elsewhere. For a second, Emily wondered whose bed she was sleeping in, but the strong urge to cough overtook her, distracting her from that train of thought. 

She rolled onto her back, coughing into her elbow, trying to stifle them so that she did not wake JJ. Unfortunately, the coughs kept coming, and Emily found herself struggling to breathe. She sat up, and before she knew what was happening, JJ was awake and sitting next to her with a comforting hand on her back, and Emily’s inhaler in hand.

“Hey you’re ok,” JJ whispered, running her hand up and down her back, “It’s ok baby.”

Emily tried to catch her breath, taking her medicine and trying to hold it into her lungs, before coughing again. Her entire body shook with them, and it brought forth the aching that permeated her entire entire body.

The coughs slowed, and she fell back into JJ, whose arms wrapped around her as she made soothing noises.

“You ok?” JJ asked, her own voice still sounding a bit hoarse.

Emily nodded, whimpering, and JJ handed her a water bottle. Emily thought for a second before taking it, knowing that she had already caught JJ’s sickness anyways. 

JJ’s strong arms wrapped around her, supporting her limp frame as she drank water and calmed back down, before moving away to let Emily lay back down.

“I didn’t want to wake you,” JJ said, “You were out halfway through the first movie and I knew you definitely needed the rest.”

Emily nodded, bracing for JJ to ask her to leave, but that didn’t come. 

“How are you feeling?” JJ asked. 

“Better,” Emily croaked. “My lungs still hurt.” 

“Do you still have a fever?” JJ asked, moving her hand to feel Emily’s forehead.

Emily closed her eyes at the gentle touch. 

“You’re hot,” JJ said, tutting at ther.

“Don’t you know it, babe,” Emily said, without thinking. 

Her eyes shot open, and she began to stutter, trying to backtrack what she said. JJ began to laugh.

“Miss Prentiss is cocky when she’s feverish,” JJ said, grinning at her.

Emily felt herself blush, but hoped JJ would take that as her fever and not her embarrassment. 

“It’s late, Em,” JJ said, “Go back to sleep.”

There it was. An invitation to continue sharing her bed. Emily relaxed, closing her eyes. 

This time, she didn’t quickly fall asleep, finding herself feeling tense in JJ’s bed, not wanting to do anything that would be seen as suspicious. 

Was she lying too close? Was she moving too much? Was she allowed to cuddle up to JJ? Did girls cuddle with each other?

Over Thanksgiving weekend last year, when she visited the Morgans with Derek, she and he shared his childhood bed. It was not like this, with the two of them fighting for blankets, kicking each other, and grumbling like siblings. Then, Emily didn’t feel this fluttering in her stomach or the desire to sniff the other persons hair. Well, Derek barely had any hair to sniff.

Emily forced herself to relax, to take as deep breaths as her lungs could manage and to try to fall back asleep. 

Some time passed, with Emily breathing slightly congested breaths in and out, as JJ tossed and turned a bit, moving around to get comfortable. 

Emily faded in and out of consciousness, right on the verge of sleep when movement on the bed told her that JJ had rolled again, and was now facing her. She could sense that JJ was looking at her, but didn’t open her eyes to confirm, still verging on sleep. 

She must have assumed that Emily was fast asleep, because the other girl turned to face Emily, and did something that Emily didn’t expect, nor knew exactly what to do with. 

JJ had kissed Emily’s forehead, softly, and Emily’s sleep deprived, feverish brain was not sure if it had actually happened, or if she had hallucinated. 

It took everything in Emily to not react, forcing her eyes closed and her body still, keeping her breathing steady. then rolled onto her side as if nothing had happened. 

Emily didn’t have the capacity to process the kiss, or the rush of emotions it conjured, so she decided that it was simply a figment of her imagination. 

Both girls fell asleep shortly after.

———

The second time Emily woke in JJ’s bed, the sun was up and the room was bathed in golden light. Emily felt warm and safe, and compared to the previous day, her body wasn’t aching as much. Emily opened her eyes and found that she was not only laying face to face with a sleeping JJ, but their limbs were tangled, as both of them had apparently decided to cuddle the other in their sleep.

Emily’s legs were wrapped up in JJ’s, her right leg between JJ’s, and the blonde’s arm was thrown casually around Emily’s shoulder, holding her close. 

This time, Emily didn’t panic, and relished the embrace of JJ. She knew that she wasn’t likely to get a chance to be this close to her again, without the excuse of a fever, so she wasn’t going to ruin it. 

Despite her best efforts, JJ’s eyes blinked open, as if sensing that Emily was awake. 

Emily pulled away, yawning, attempting to untangle their limbs.

“Why hello there,” JJ whispered, giggling at her. 

“Hi,” Emily whispered, smiling back at JJ.

“You look a lot better,” JJ commented, reaching out and fixing Emily’s bangs for her. 

“I feel better,” she said, “Less like I’m on the verge of death.”

“We can’t have you dying, Em,” she replied, “Who else would I cuddle with?”

Emily smiled at her.

 JJ sat up, stretching, revealing a slip of her lower back as the hem of her sweater rose above her waist. Emily did the same, sitting crossed legged in her bed, still wrapped in blankets despite the warmth of the room. JJ was lucky and her bed was near the radiator, keeping them toasty warm despite the chilled fall air. 

Emily peeked outside, watching fall leaves fly through the sky, patterning the courtyard with a blanket of leaves. JJ stood, put on her slippers, and took a drink of water, before offering it to Emily. 

Taking the water bottle, Emily sipped it awkwardly, completely unsure what to do with herself. All her experiences being in someone else’s bed had usually also involved her leaving quickly after, or at least in the morning before the other woke up. Now, Emily was watching JJ fuss with her hair in the mirror in the golden light of day.

“I’m starving,” JJ said, “What time is it?”

Emily grabbed JJ’s phone, seeing the time. It was 6:30am, long before she ever normally woke up. She must have fallen asleep earlier than she thought. 

“Cafs aren’t open yet,” Emily said, “It’s only 6:30.” 

“Do you like omelettes?” JJ asked.

———

Fifteen minutes later, Emily was seated in the tiny dorm kitchen at the end of their floor, wrapped in a blanket, with another steaming cup of tea in her hands, watching JJ flip an omelette in a pan.

Apparently JJ is one of the few people to use the kitchen—besides Emily and her cookies—to use the kitchen for more than instant noodles and pizza pockets. 

She had eggs in the fridge, and diced frozen vegetables in the freezer, and quickly whipped up a delicious breakfast for the two of them in minutes, chatting the entire time. 

“Oooh,” JJ said as she pulled out her carton of eggs, “I should get some apple cider. Someone’s got a massive jug in here and I’m dying for some.”

“I’ve never liked apple cider,” Emily said, taking a gulp of her tea. 

The hot tea—and her doctor prescribed medicine—was clearing her sinuses and Emily felt like she was breathing fully for the first time in days. 

“That’s impossible,” JJ said, matter-of-factly, as she cracked an egg into a bowl. “It’s the best thing ever.”

Emily shrugged, “I’ve only had it once and it wasn’t that good.”

“If I wasn’t a good person, I would steal this person’s cider and make you try it,” JJ said, gesturing with a spatula. 

JJ turned and busied herself with adding the veggies to the pan, sautéing them in butter and some seasoning. 

“We should go to the fair, together,” JJ blurted, “I mean. All of us.”

“I’ve also never been to a fair,” Emily said with another shrug. “I have to remind you that I’ve barely lived in the US, and when I did, I was trapped in stuffy private schools.”

JJ gave her a look that, if it was from anyone else, would look pitying. 

“It’s decided,” JJ said, plopping the omelette onto Emily’s plate. “When you feel better, we’re going to the fair.”

“It’s a date.”

[sirbadgerduke]

NieR Replicant: “An underrated gem given a slicker, better coat of paint”

NieR is a game I hold dear to my heart, a game that holds many wild twists and revelations that are hidden to you in your initial playthrough of the game. It was both a shock and a surprise to me that it was being “remade” to the then modern consoles. NieR is the property of Square Enix and the brain child of one mad lad called Yoko Taro. There is no reason not to say it; this is the definitive version to play and to get accustomed to especially if you’re coming from NieR Automata as your first NieR game, moreso even. Here’s my thoughts on a remake of a title I’m deeply fond of. NieR tells the story of Nier and Yonah; siblings who are surviving in this seemingly very fantastical world. You are given the control of Nier and must help with your sister’s illness; the black scrawl, a disease that is spreading in the lands as more and more Shades grow violent and attack passing travelers and defensless people. 

To give away more than that is to spoil the very essence of the game itself and its intrigue. The story takes wild turns and crazy twists whilst still being a story that is heartbreaking as it is heartwarming. With added bells and whistles in the form of added cut content and a new ending, this exemplifies its themes of love lost and found, nihilism, existential dread and a crisis of humanity but yet neatly wrapped around the idea of hope, no matter how big or small. The story and characters are the biggest reasons to play NieR Replicant, especially before or after you play Automata. One of the biggest overhauls with this remake is in the gameplay and visual design of the game. No longer is the lighting super bright to the point of blinding, no longer is Nier’s model weird looking and no longer is the combat a bit of a slog to play. Making the overall feel and speed of the combat more like Automata was a blessing needed, as well as making the magic mechanic faster and stressful. The beautiful loneliness of the world in NieR is brought out to its fullest potential with a new polish to the textures and a better resolution, really showcasing just how gorgeous yet simple the art style of NieR really is. 

The audio/music is top notch still, the music is truly something special that exemplifies emotions and feelings during some of the more dramatic moments of the story; whether it's the action and desperation of a situation or the emotional moments of despair and sadness that strike the protagonists, the music is just straight up phenomenal. The voice work goes without saying, all the actors really do a stellar of conveying the dialogue, from Laura Bailley and Liam ‘O’Brien to even just the extras, there’s some really great work that goes on here. 

NieR, whether it's Replicant or Automata, are phenomenal and fanatic works of fiction that are meaningful and deep without feeling like a pretentious lesson in “Babby’s first Artful Writing” for its obvious that Yoko Taro knows not to treat the audience like an idiot and let them feel and find out the little intricacies of his own works. It’s insane to think that this series spawned as a spin off from Drakengard’s secret last ending, in which you fight a boss in a rhythm game section to unlock, it truly speaks just how utterly mad Yoko Yaro can be and that’s why I love his work. If you played Automata but not Replicant or are starting from the beginning? This game is truly worth your attention by all means, the game is easily one of the best stories not just in the game medium but across the board. Biased Score: A+ Unbiased Score: A+ to A

Genre: Action JRPG Release Date: 23rd April 2021 Director: Yoko Taro Developer: Toylogic Publisher Square Enix

[hockeylvr59]

Lost and Found || William Nylander

Requested: [x] yes [ ] no

Authors Note: Request was for #4 of the soulmate prompts. I loved the suggestions so much. I know it took me forever but hopefully, you see it and enjoy it. 

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1,413

______________

“You have to get lost before you can be found.” 

Growing up you were in awe of the quote your parents had painted on your bedroom wall. When you were really little they told you that the quote applied to knowledge, to personal growth. It wasn’t until you were a teenager that you learned that it actually applied to finding your soulmate. You see, though no one knew how it worked, when someone lost something it was magically found by their soulmate. It only worked, however, when something was truly lost, you’d know because you’d tried to circumvent the system a time or two “losing” things like a piece of paper with your phone number on it or pictures of yourself. No...destiny seemed to know when you were trying to cheat the system and she wasn’t a fan. 

By your early twenties, you’d given up trying to rig the system and settled with waiting to meet your soulmate...hoping that it wouldn’t take too long. You’d known from the time you became a teenager that he existed, there was no question about it. You knew it because you were constantly finding random things. Ticket stubs, men’s socks, even once a jockstrap. The more things you found, the more you questioned just how scatterbrained your soulmate could be. Lately though, your finds have been less gross and more….green. It seemed like once a week that you were finding money lying on the ground, tucked between the couch cushions, in a jacket pocket. And while for the most part, they were small bills, you’d found hundreds more than once. 

The first time you’d found money you questioned what you should do with it. And for a while, you tucked it all in an envelope in your nightstand. But then the money kept coming and well it certainly seemed like your soulmate was well enough off and he was your soulmate so you found yourself spending some of it here and there grateful for the little boons in your life. 

Now it wasn’t like you hadn’t lost things yourself before. You’d lost money a few times yourself, earrings would fall out on occasion, and you were certain that your soulmate had a collection of ponytails and bobby pins a mountain high by now. But you’d never really lost anything important. 

So when you stepped outside of Scotiabank arena and reached into your pocket for your phone to find it missing, you panicked. Losing your phone was everyone’s worst nightmare and while you were someone comforted by the fact that your soulmate would likely find it rather than some stranger a part of you reminded yourself that your soulmate technically was a stranger. Thankfully you’d driven yourself to the game so you had both keys and a car because you couldn’t imagine being stranded in Toronto without a phone to order an Uber. Still, by the time you made it home you were in tears about the fact that you’d lost something so important. You didn’t fully understand the blessing it would turn out to be. 

~~~

Basking in the feeling of a hard-fought win and a goal, Will smiled his way through media before returning to his locker to change. Pulling his pants up over his hips he reached down to grab the fabric of his dress shirt and instead his fingers made contact with something hard. Looking down, he spotted a phone tucked into his pile of clothing….a phone that definitely hadn’t been there earlier. The first thing that came to mind was whether this was part of some prank by his teammates. But the phone case was a glittery leafs logo and when he picked it up and pressed the lock button a photo of a group of girls including the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen appeared. 

His heart stopped for a moment before it began racing, his brain finally establishing that this was something his soulmate had lost. For years he’d wondered what she was like and now he somehow knew that he was looking at her. As the sounds of his teammates filled his ears, Will quickly pocketed the phone, throwing the rest of his clothes on before heading out to his car. It was only once inside that he pulled the phone from his pocket, his finger hovering over the home button. 

To his surprise, the phone unlocked. 

Though he didn’t want to invade her privacy, William reasoned that he could only get the phone back to her if he did a little snooping. Deciding that opening her messages might give him a lead of who could get him in contact with her, he pressed the icon and the last active conversation opened. Inside was a string of sent pictures….pictures of him. 

Following the pictures was a received text: Fuck you’re so goddamn lucky. Damn chemistry for keeping me from being there right beside you. 

I know right? He looks so cute tonight. I might need you to revive me later when I recap the game for you. 

She had been there. She had watched him score, had taken pictures of him and he didn’t even know she was there. She was attracted to him and didn’t even know that he was her soulmate. It was almost cruel and unusual punishment when he had been waiting to find her for so long. Staring at the phone for a moment longer he ran his fingers through his hair before composing a message. 

Hey so uh...I’m your friend’s soulmate and she lost her phone at the Leafs game tonight and uh...I’d like to get it back to her. 

The moment the message sent Will started overthinking it. Of course, this was her soulmate, who else would have found her lost phone? And did he sound too creepy? Would her friend think he was crazy and refuse to help him? 

She’s been freaking out! Where did you find it? 

William really didn’t know how to answer that without admitting who he was so he decided to stay vague. 

Was between two articles of clothing when I went to change. 

That was totally both true and vague not saying where he was when he found it. 

So uh...she said to give you her address if you don’t mind dropping the phone off tonight? She’s kind of going crazy without it. 

Yeah, no problem. 

He would drive to Buffalo if it meant meeting her. The address came through quickly and after plugging it into his navigation, he pulled out of the parking garage. Driving through downtown, his palms began to sweat and by the time he stopped in front of the building his GPS directed him to, he honestly felt like he was going to pass out. 

With her phone gripped tightly in his hand, he stepped into the building and rode the elevator up to the proper floor. His body ran solely on autopilot until he was standing in front of her door, his fist raised to knock. 

Three short raps against the wood were going to change his life forever. William’s heart was in his throat as he waited for the door in front of him to open but once it did, he felt a wave of peace crash over him. 

“My phone. Thank god.” She proclaimed. Suddenly his eyes met hers and a breathy ‘no way’ fell from her lips. 

“I think this is yours.” He mumbled, offering the phone out to her. 

“You….you’re….” Suddenly feeling shy, Will nodded, his left hand reaching up to scratch at the back of his neck. 

Taking the phone, Will watched as she slipped it into the pocket of the sweats she was wearing. Then suddenly she was stretching onto her toes and her arms wrapped around his neck, drawing him down into a soft kiss. She tasted like heaven and Will dropped his arms to drape gently around her waist. Standing in her doorway they kissed until they both needed to breathe and when she pulled away the smile on her face was the best thing he’d ever seen. 

“Suddenly that crush makes a whole lot more sense.” She whispered, a sparkle in her eyes. A booming laugh filled Will’s chest making her smile even brighter if that was possible. Stepping back, she reached out a hand silently inviting him inside and Will eagerly accepted, ready to spend the rest of forever losing himself in her. 

[wistfulthiinking]

                          working hard to get my fill, everybody wants a thrill.                           paying anything to roll the dice just one more time.                           some will win, some will lose. some were born to sing the blues.                           oh, the movie never ends. it goes on and on, and on, and on.                           don't stop believin' -- hold on to that feeling.

how long has your character been in WASHINGTON?

nearing on three years. like many others within the city, he made his way across the country upon graduation from high school. as he is under the spell of the magic that hangs over washington, finn’s memory is programmed to believe that he grew up in franklin, tennessee. raised by a single mother that worked two jobs to keep their tiny family afloat, finn always found his solace in football. luckily enough for him, he was a natural talent and all too soon became something of a star athlete in the state, his name is familiar even in nearby Nashville. 

what is your character’s JOB?

finn is unemployed at the moment and is solely a student at george washington university. more importantly, however, he is the quarterback of the george washington colonials football team. it was never lost on him that he owed football a great deal -- it wasn’t as if he’d gotten a scholarship to college based on his grades or academic ability. it just begins to feel a bit difficult to hold onto that scholarship and quarterback role when he’s so very close to failing all of his classes. finn had made the choice to study business based solely on the idea that he could become a mega-rich ceo someday, giving his future family a life that contrasted so severely from his own. plus, he wanted to pay his mom back -- the woman was nothing short of a saint and she deserved the best that the world had to offer, in finn’s eyes. despite the best of intentions, it seemed life was laughing squarely in the face of his plans. 

where has your character been PULLED from in their fandom?

the end of season four, the capital-e end for finn. it was all too tragic, the swift and untimely end of a man who was just beginning to find himself. pieces of his alternate self linger in his mind, that once drew him towards the siren’s song of music city. pieces that make him question his idea to study business and plant a desire towards music or teaching. 

has any MAGIC affected your character?

yes, but the magic grows increasingly weaker as the clock continues to tick. he’s now older than he grew to be in his alternative life and it seems that with each passing day -- each extension of his life that he’s been miraculously gifted, doors to that life begin to unlock. the clues are subtle, faint tickling upon his brain when he’s met with something that would have been significant to the finn hudson of lima, ohio. the man has been singing in the shower for as long as he could talk, his soul lightening and growing wings as his notes swelled and his range expanded. the way he would sneak to concerts in nashville and sing his lungs out in the crowd. but all of this was his secret as tennessee’s finn hudson never had the embrace of the new directions to bring him out of his musically repressed shell. as the responsibility of adult life looms over him in the next few years, he feels himself less drawn to business and more drawn to becoming a teacher. certainly less financially secure, this intense desire shocks him every single time it crashes over his body like a wave. it’s an instinct, something visceral that tells him teaching is his calling -- that he would be good, maybe even great as an educator though he’d never given the career path a single thought before. then these puzzle pieces grow increasingly obscure when the mere sight of a gold colored star makes the hair on the back of his neck stand up and sends tingles down his spine. he has learned to mostly ignore that as it’s just too odd to have any real meaning -- right? then comes the things he can’t ignore, the things that scare him right down to the bone. these include the way his hands shake and sweat beads on his forehead when he gets behind the wheel of a car, the pause he gives when he’s about to throw back a gulp of alcohol or the cringe when the liquid hits his tongue, the two are almost always connected. in finn’s mind, it reads like a premonition -- that he’s doomed to die in a drunk driving related vehicle accident. it’s never occurred to him that it has already come true in some alternative reality. but it wouldn’t, would it? other dimensions and past lives aren’t real. not to finn hudson and he stuffs the fear back down into the deep recesses of his mind until he’s gripped by the horror when they inevitably resurface. 

is there any ADDITIONAL INFORMATION  about your character?

finn is my little baby love. yes, he’s a dumbass who has hurt people, but i think he’s always at least attempted to redeem himself. he deserves a good life, a long one and i want to give him that here to the best of my ability. all around, he has a huge and beautiful heart. 

also i’m sorry for making finn freakin’ hudson so dark at moments in this intro. :) and i can’t wait for everything to come crashing down around him when the magic wears off. woo. 

are there any wanted CONNECTIONS?

FRIEND GROUP ( open to m/f/nb ): finn thrives on friendship and, of course, he’s a college quarterback -- he’s gotta be at least somewhat popular. give me all the friendships ! 

FRIEND(S) WITH BENEFITS ( open to f/nb/m ): i love the drama of a fwb scenario just to see where it goes. this can also be related to the friend group wanted connection as well !

EXES ( open to f/nb/m ): give me ex-partner drama. i crave it.

HIS MOOSE [muse] ( open to f/nb ): ofc, bless my finchel lovin’ heart, my mans needs someone he absolutely adores to help him embrace his inner music lover and for him to learn to adore the things about himself that he despises. this boy needs guidance or he just can’t get it right. 

[callunavulgari]

Scrapbook 2021 | Part I

For anyone that’s new to this, this is how I keep track of all of the things I enjoy and/or create throughout the year. I have literally been doing this since I had a livejournal. I think the first one was 2011? Maybe? In which case, woohoo, ten years of scrapbooking!

It’s a nice little snippet of my life and helps to organize my brain.

A reminder:

Normal font - Indifferent/Neutral Italicized font - Enjoyed bold font - Loved with an asterisk* - All time favorite (bracketed titles) - Re-watches/Re-reads strikethough - Disliked

Goals are: read 80 books, finish five video games, write more than 20 fics or something larger than 20k, and write either an original short story or start a novel. 

Past Years

MOVIES

January

(Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring)

(Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers)

(Lord of the Rings: Return of the King)

Robin Hood

(Hook)

Wolfwalkers

February

(Age of Ultron)

From Up On Poppy Hill

(Tangled)

(Onward)

(The Mummy)

(Hercules)

(Promare)

March

Raya and the Last Dragon

(My Neighbor Totoro)

April

(Hunchback of Notre Dame)

(Tarzan)

(Beauty and the Beast)

Weathering With You

BOOKS

January

A Deadly Education | Naomi Novak [Fin]

Home Body | Rupi Kaur [Fin]

The Sunken Mall | K.D. Edwards [Fin]

Bloom | Kevin Panetta [Fin]

The Angel of Crows | Katherine Addison

All the Stars and Teeth | Adalyn Grace [Fin]

The Adventure Zone: Vol 1 | McElroys & Carey Pietsch [Fin]

I Hope You Stay | Courtney Peppernell [Fin]

Pillow Thoughts | Courtney Peppernell [Fin]

Piraneesi | Susanna Clarke [Fin]

The Ex Talk | Rachel Lynn Solomon [Fin]

February

The Adventure Zone: Vol 2 | McElroys & Carey Pietsch [Fin]

The Adventure Zone: Vol 3 | McElroys & Carey Pietsch [Fin]

The Angel of Crows | Katherine Addison

Alice Isn’t Dead | Joseph Fink

March

Winter’s Orbit | Everina Maxwell [Fin]

Fireheart Tiger | Aliette de Bodard [Fin]

Alice Isn’t Dead | Joseph Fink

Fire | Kristin Cashore [Fin]

Bitterblue | Kristin Cashore [Fin]

The Witch’s Heart | Genevieve Gornichec [Fin]

Winterkeep | Kristin Cashore

April

Alice Isn’t Dead | Joseph Fink [Fin]

Winterkeep | Kristin Cashore [Fin]

The Memory Theater | Karin Tidbeck [Fin]

These Violent Delights | Chloe Gong 

(Red White and Royal Blue | Casey Mcquiston) [Fin]

Rule of Wolves | Leigh Bardugo [Fin]

Alice Isn’t Dead | Joseph Fink [Fin]

Not the Girl You Marry | Andie Christopher [Fin]

The Echo Wife | Sarah Gailey [Fin]

The Midnight Library | Matt Haig

Catherine House | Elisabeth Thomas [Fin]

Séance Tea Party | Reimena Yee [Fin]

Lumberjanes vol 1 | Noelle Stevenson [Fin]

PODCASTS

January

The Unseen, Christmas and New Year Special

The Penumbra Podcast, Juno Steel arc, Heart of It All and What Lies Beyond

The Penumbra Podcast, Second Citadel, Strong Arm of Justice and The Priestess’ Fortune

I Am In Eskew, Episode 16

Welcome to Night Vale, Episode 67, 68, and 69

The Magnus Archives, Episode 190 and 191

February

The Magnus Archives, Episode 192-194

The Adventure Zone, Episodes 15-60

March

The Magnus Archives, Episode 194-200 [Fin]

The Adventure Zone, Episodes 60-TAZ BALANCE ENDING

MBMBAM, Episode 1

I Am In Eskew, Episode 17-22

April

I Am In Eskew, Episode 23-END

Alice Isn’t Dead, Episode 18-END

TV SHOWS BY SEASON

January

His Dark Materials, s2 [Fin]

Watcher Entertainment

Buzzfeed Worth It

(Black Sails, s1)

The Queen’s Gambit**

February

Cherry Magic

Wandavision, s1

Watcher Entertainment

The Owl House

(Little Witch Academia)

Star vs the Forces of Evil, s3, s4

Bridgerton

Buzzfeed Unsolved: True Crime

Heaven’s Official Blessing

March

Wandavision, s1 [Fin]

Watcher Entertainment, Puppet History & Watcher Weekly

Falcon and the Winter Soldier

Word of Honor

April

Word of Honor, s1

Watcher Entertainment, Puppet History

Falcon and the Winter Soldier, s1

Kim’s Convenience, s1, 2, 3, 4

Leverage, s4

Shadow and Bone, s1

The Great, s1

VIDEO GAMES

January

Hades, 37 hours [Fin]

Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla, 35 hours

February

Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla, 35 hours

Hades, 75+ hours? 

Animal Crossing: New Horizons, 16 hours

Persona 5 Royal

March

Animal Crossing: New Horizons, 45 hours

Persona 5 Royal, 141 hours

Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla, 35 hours

Concrete Genie, 3 hours

April

Concrete Genie, 6 hours [Fin]

Animal Crossing: New Horizons, 65 hours

Persona 5 Royal, 160 hours

Monster Hunter Rise, 2 hours

Civ, 5 hours

DELIGHTFUL FIC

January

Modern Rustic by beethechange | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane | 22k | “I think,” he says, finally, “that if we looked around this place hard enough, we’d find a rose underneath a—a glass thing, what’s it called—losing petals. Metaphorically.”

easy livin' by sarcasticfishes | Buzzfeed Unsolved (Fallout AU) | Ryan/Shane | 6k | The Wasteland - and Ryan - through Shane's eyes.

(in nocte consiliam by oxymoronic | Bartimaeus | Bartimaeus/Nathaniel | 4k | London, 2003. Britain is on the brink of war, and someone is trying rather hard to kill John Mandrake.)

made of glass the way you see through me by uneventfulhouses | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane | 19k | Will it always be like this? Ryan wonders, watching Shane lope up the snowy walkway and pushing his way through the front door, humming some jolly old tune in that way Shane’s prone to do. Theatrical, performing for an audience even though Ryan is the only one around.

All Your Stars In View by alpha_exodus | Harry Potter | Draco/Harry | 18k | Life after the war is difficult for Harry, especially when the only thing that makes him feel better is, oddly enough, being around Malfoy. So when Malfoy asks to paint his portrait, Harry can't refuse, even if it means baring himself in more ways than one.

13 Genuinely Awful Things About Steven by thefourthvine | Buzzfeed Worth It | Steven/Andrew | 10k | Andrew’s learned to like cake, he’s learned to like oysters, and he’s learned to like Steven.

we’ll make a brand new start of it (in old new york) by misantlery | Buzzfeed Worth It | Steven/Andrew | 10k | “Just to be clear,” Andrew says. “You want me to pretend to be your boyfriend at a party to spite your high school bully and your high school girlfriend and possibly the entire state of Ohio?”

Russian Roulette Croquembouche by misantlery | Buzzfeed Worth It | Andrew/Steven | 9k | “Get that on your business card,” Andrew advises. “Steven Lim, video producer, world traveler, fancy dessert boy. Human cream puff.”

rose-colored boy by juniperProse | Buzzfeed Worth It | Steven/Andrew | 2k | Andrew’s eyes are pink.

Like Wildfire by makemadej | Watcher Entertainment | Shane/Ryan | 20k | “Is this gonna be a thing with you?” Ryan demands. “You can’t keep committing to stuff that no one else knows about! When people online say they want you to be more open and vulnerable, this is not what they mean.”

Scratching the Itch by bendingsignpost | Doctor Who | Rose/Ten | 20k | Her mum had always told her that blokes had only one thing on their minds, but this was taking it to an entirely new level.

lie back and let me unlock you by Lise | The Untamed | Xiao Xingchen/Xue Yang | 7k | Xiao Xingchen, reluctantly, admits to certain fantasies that he has. His friend is happy to indulge him.

in our respective ways by Lise | The Untamed | Jiang Cheng & Lan Wangji | 6k | Jiang Cheng has his golden core back. But he seems to have lost Wei Wuxian.

By Proxy by Lise | The Untamed | Jiang Cheng/Lan Wangji | 12k | Jiang Cheng and Lan Wangji, looking for comfort in all the wrong places.

some good mistakes by Lise | The Untamed | Jiang Cheng & Lan Wangji | 18k |  Or, the one where Wei Wuxian vanishes and Lan Wangji, reluctantly, asks for Jiang Cheng's help tracking him down.

efforts in a common cause by Lise | The Untamed | Xiao Xingchen/Xue Yang/Song Lan | 12k | Everybody's walked out of Yi City alive. Now it's just three badly adjusted adults (and one badly adjusted teenager) trying to make things work - a project somewhat derailed by a night hunt that turns out to be something else.

swinger of birches by astronicht | The Untamed | Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian | 23k | Lan Zhan is a little witch in the house on the hill, whispering out a love curse. Wei Ying is a witch undead, undone.

let me desecrate you by hkafterdark | The Untamed | Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian | 6k | “Dangerous words.” Wei Wuxian drew back. The flickering candlelight gave him an otherworldly appearance; that, and his beauty, unchanged since the first time Lan Wangji had seen him. “You aren’t afraid to be at the mercy of the fearsome Yiling laozu?”

The Demon Affair by stereobone | Yu Yu Hakusho | Hiei/Kurama | 9k | Kurama accidentally seduces Hiei into a relationship.

i came to win (and i won) by paperclipbitch | The Queen’s Gambit | Beth/Benny | 3k | They play chess, and they fuck.The two things are not the same.

February

Sylvain Gautier Would Love To Try To Solve All Your Problems Through Sex (Hey It Might Help) by Fall Out Boy by harriet_vane | Fire Emblem: Three Houses | Sylvain/Felix | 22k | In which Sylvain wakes up on the wrong tour bus, and refuses to be their sex therapist (unless Felix asks nicely)

Turnabout and Start Again by runningondreams | The Untamed | Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji | 34k | WIP | Wei Wuxian lives. The siege fails.Thirteen years later, Lan Wangji wakes in a body that is not his own.

μήτηρ, in the Greek by antistar_e (kaikamahine) | Hades | Nyx & Persephone, canon relationships | 37k | At the end of this recounting, she tilted her head and asked politely, Is this not how you have children?Uh, no, said Persephone.

that voodoo that you do so well by veterization | Buzzfeed Unsolved | Ryan/Shane | 18k |  Ryan buys a voodoo potion oil at Voodoo Authentica meant to attract Yummy Boys. Appropriately, things happen.

A Bridge Between by Runespoor | Spirited Away | Gen | 3k | Years later, Chihiro moves into a new apartment; her parents help.

the ghost king's bride by arahir | Tian Guan Ci Fu | Hua Cheng/Xie Lian | 10k | Ghosts won't stop giving Xie Lian flowers, Hua Cheng won't stop teasing, and Xie Lian is out here doing his best, man.

Side bitch out of your league by rohkeutta | Captain America | Steve/Bucky | 3k | “I tried to call Sam,” Captain America says, bewildered. He’s sprinting like Usain Bolt and doesn’t sound even a little out of breath. Fucker. “Who’re you?”

cause in your warmth (I forget how cold it can be) by madnessandbrilliance | Promare | Lio/Galo | 7k | Lio is always freezing. Galo is always warm. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out the rest.

backdraft by broments | Promare | Lio/Galo | 32k | It happens in an instant, Galo gaping like an idiot while Lio presses forward to defend against the perceived threat, the weapon sparkling but not burning as it kisses Galo's throat.

your perfect crime (& how you laugh when you lie) by aroceu | The Untamed | Lan Zhan/Wei Wuxian | Death Note AU | 8k | The first time a convicted murderer dies of a heart attack in their jail cell, no one thinks anything of it.

Yosuke will now die for you! by DragonBandit | Persona 4 | Yosuke/Souji | 5k | ...This, causes problems.

dramamine by brawlite | The Untamed | Song Lan/Xue Yang | 7k | Song Lan is having a bad morning. Help comes from the last person he'd expect: Xue Yang.

Hearth and Home by lady_ragnell | Leverage | Alec/Eliot/Parker | 1k | When Eliot goes to a temple, or when he’s in one place long enough to build a shrine, he doesn’t do it for Ares. He does it for Hestia.

Where One Ends and the Other Begins by kalliopeia | Leverage | Alec/Parker/Eliot | 30k | Nobody’s particularly shocked when the job goes spectacularly sideways because their loot turns out to be magic. Parker and Eliot begin reading each other’s minds, accidental sharing happens, and shenanigans result.

Hungry Thirsty Roots by coolkidroland | Persona 5 | Akechi/Akira | 56k | In which Akira absolutely does not learn to leave well enough alone. **

Without Grasping Yet by Angelic_Ascent | Persona 5 | Akechi/Akira | 8k | Akechi and Akira end up far too cramped for comfort in the Morgana bus. And then they're left alone in Mementos.

Falling Up by KivaEmber | Persona 5 | Akechi/Akira | 2k | “If it helps…” Akira spoke up suddenly, his tone morbidly amused, “I forgive you, for shooting me in the face.”

March

Touch of Forbidden by tirsynni | LoZ | Ganondorf/Link | 2k |  Nabooru warned him not to travel to the Spirit Temple. So of course Link went to the Spirit Temple.

breaking the same old heart by tardigradeschool | The Adventure Zone | Magnus/Taako | 11k | Taako and Magnus in triptych: before, during, and after the Bureau.**

your head is good, it’s loyal, it’s clean by Anonymous | TAZ | Magnus/Taako | 4k | "Here, I do this all the time."Too quickly for him to react, Taako plucks away one of his golden rings and slips it onto the ring finger of Magnus' left hand.

bruising kisses, whispered confessions by tangerine_skye | TAZ | Magnus/Taako | 3k | The trio stop over at an inn for the night. Taako and Magnus share a bed.

i can see what's coming (but i'm not saying it) by pansywaist | TAZ | Magnus/Taako | 3k | His breath is still hot on Taako's lips, distracting enough he almost misses the strained whisper: “I thought I was gonna lose you.”

Emergency Consolation in the Pocket Spa by Anonymous | TAZ | Magnus/Taako | 3k | If Magnus wants to hug a wizard, Magnus gets to hug a wizard.

together for the long haul by kismetNemesis | TAZ | Magnus/Taako | 6k | Magnus and Taako were married on a bright spring day in the year after they saved the world.

thin skin, bruises, and a cold cup of tea by GayFrankensteinsMonster | TAZ | Magnus/Taako | 3k | Sleep is for the weak, and Magnus has no weaknesses, except for his own natural curiosity.

tender is the night by dollylux | TAZ | Magnus/Taako | 10k |  “It’s just…” He runs a hand through the thick bramble of his hair, gripping the crown of it to anchor himself. He sighs, slumping back against the footboard. “I guess I’m just not very good at one on one. Like, not… not in any way.”

a note is attached to the top of the vial by GayFrankensteinsMonster | TAZ | Kravitz/Taako, Magnus/Taako | 5k |  Elves have a lifespan of up to six hundred years. The people that you know don't even come close to that.

Pieces of Memory and Heart by ellemaris | Raya and the Last Dragon | Raya/Namaari | 1k | Raya isn't sure how to heal everything between Heart and Fang, but returning something important to Namaari seems like a start.

the gods laugh by miss_aphelion | The Untamed | Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji | 11k+ | WIP | Wei Wuxian is just getting used to being alive again when he's ripped from the world he knows. He wakes in a place where his sister and her husband live, where his brother doesn't hate him, where the Wen remnants have all survived.

In Your Room, In Your Bed by giraffeter | The Untamed | Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji/Jiang Cheng | 25k | After Wei Ying is disowned, Yu Ziyuan forbids Jiang Cheng from letting Wei Ying live with him. Jiang Cheng lets him stay anyway because Fuck That. He tells his parents Lan Zhan is his new roommate instead.

in the blossom season (in the pouring rain) by varnes | The Untamed | Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji | 14k |  “Doctor Flowers,” Lan Zhan repeats, pointing at the tiny plum tree, just to confirm that his son is suggesting a magical tree named Doctor Flowers sprouted overnight and made their tame family project turn into a verdant jungle.

34 years old - 5'8" - DL - no-BB by withpractice_ff | Ace Attorney | Edgeworth/Phoenix | 3k | Phoenix finds Edgeworth’s Grindr profile

spinning with the stars above by tardigradeschool | The Untamed | Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji | 7k | Wangji returns home to Vulcan for the first time since he left for Starfleet Academy, this time with Wei Ying at his side. He’s not expecting Wei Ying and his uncle to be fast friends, but things go poorly in a very different way than he was expecting.

every breath that comes before by tardigradeschool | The Untamed | Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian | 10k | Or, what if that cup of wine Wei Wuxian drank for Lan Wangji after the Phoenix Mountain hunt wasn't just wine?

never love an anchor by tardigradeschool | Wei Wuxian/Lan Wangji | 31k | A fisherman and a selkie fall in love beside the sea. Regretfully, things are never quite that simple.

Be Careful by giraffeter | The Untamed | Song Lan/Xue Yang | 5k |  Song Lan and Xue Yang try to survive a week in their shared apartment without Xiao Xingchen as a buffer.

  won't you let me know you now by tardigradeschool | The Untamed | Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian | 12k | WIP | “Have you ever heard of a mind meld?” Wangji keeps his voice as level as possible, as if he is not revealing foremost Vulcan secrets.

April

running for a soft place to fall by tardigradeschool | The Untamed | Lan Xichen & Lan Wangji | 10k |  As he leaves for his coming of age test at age twelve, half-Vulcan Xichen has a goal in mind. The rules of the kahs-wan prohibit taking food, water, or weapons. In accordance, Xichen is bringing none of those things, but he does have a compass tucked into his pocket. He is going to find his father.

an act too often neglected by Ariaste | The Untamed | Lan Xichen/Meng Yao | 60k | The single faceless, anonymous photograph on the profile that catches his eye is shot in elegant black-and-white, and there’s something about the crispness of the focus and the markedly off-center composition that says art, for once, rather than mugshot.The caption below is equally sparse: “5’6. Demanding.”

where you go, I'm going (so jump and I'm jumping) by Aria | The Magnus Archives | Martin/Jonathan | 6k | "I don't think so," Alex said. She looked at Martin. "Is this really how it went?"

Morning, keep the streets empty for me by feyburner | The Untamed | Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian | 6k | Ghosts were drawn to the ring roads.

2am on a saturday by detectorist | The Untamed | Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian | 11k | In which Lan Zhan gets high, slides into Wei Ying's DMs, and somehow ends up having the harmonica played to him at 2am in the morning.

Grief Kindly Stopped by ShanaStoryteller | The Untamed | Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian | 5k | Nothing leaves the Burial Mounds alive.

superhero love triangle by Asuka Kureru (Askerian) | Bleach?! | Grimmjow/Ichigo | WIP | 17k | You know those classical superhero-genre love triangles that actually only contain two people? Yeah.

Boat Basin by downjune | The Falcon and the Winter Soldier | 5k |  He thought the 21st century now maybe suffered from an overabundance of classifications for all the different ways to fuck and/or romance a person, but the most important thing—and his therapist had emphasized this—the most important thing was connection.

my touch magnifies by isozyme | Word of Honor | Wen Kexing/Zhou Zishu/Ye Baiyi | 7k | Wen Kexing gets hit with fuck-or-die sex pollen on the way to Longyuan cabinet. Everything would be fine, except Zhou Zishu’s been keeping an unfortunate secret: the nails in his chest mean he can’t get hard anymore.

DELIGHTFUL FANVIDS

January

2020 || Multifandom Mashup

Hades - Official Animated Trailer

Hades Mini-PMV: This Year

2020, I guess

MARVEL || Energy (ft. Easy McCoy + Black Hydra)

obi-wan || give it

2020 ll Multifandom Mashup

Multifandom | Goodbye 2020

Multifandom | Goodbye 2018

2018 Multifandom | MASHUP

His Dark Materials - No Sanctuary

Lyra & Mrs. Coulter | Hurricane

► mrs. coulter || way down we go [hdm]

Wonder Woman || BORN READY 

Vikings | The End of the Journey

February

MARVEL || Ready Set (ft. Vo Williams)

MARVEL || Here We Go (ft. Chris Classic)

MARVEL || Is You Ready || The Falcon and the Winter Soldier

Never forget || Hualian - Hua Cheng x Xie Lian AMV 

【魔道祖师 / MDZS】Animatic - The First Siege | Safe & Sound

The Jedi Way | THE MANDALORIAN

Multifandom || Going Bad (feat. Drake)

March

Broccolli Casserole--The Untamed

Hey Brother - The Adventure Zone Animatic/PMV

The Adventure Zone: Balance trailer

The Adventure Zone: Balance Arc Trailer (Animatic)

13 Year Olds (A MDZS Animatic by Arcxus)

Multifandom || Die In This Town

DNA | shadow & bone

(Marvel) Wanda Maximoff | Grief

Defying Gravity | MDZS/CQL Animatic

It’s Quiet Uptown | MDZS Animatic

To The Stars

(Marvel) WandaVision || Awaken

Walt Disney Animation Studios | A Magical Journey

We don't have forever.

stop living a fake life.

► Wanda Maximoff | PAINT IT BLACK (+15k)

Multifandom || Take It (c/w Quang Truong) ft. @SEIGE WORLD​

Kylo Ren | STAR WARS

The Lord of the Rings Trilogy

April

MARVEL || Natural ft.ImagineDragons

​ xue yang & xiao xingchen ➤ gasoline

WEN KEXING || GASOLINE

Wen Kexing ✘ Zhou Zishu || Dandelions

Play With Fire - Wen Kexing

TOXIC ~ Wen Kexing ~ word of honor ~ 山河令

(Marvel) Bucky Barnes | Free

Bucky Barnes | Feeling Good

The Falcon and the Winter Soldier || Next Level ft. @7kingZ​ || (Marvel)

Eternity looking down on us.

The complexity of reality.

Captain America

✗ The Crows | Trouble (Shadow&Bone)

Shadow & Bone | Paint It Black

The secret fate of all life.

DELIGHTFUL MUSIC

January

A Better Version - Jessie Shelton

Start a War - Klergy, Valerie Broussard

Meet Me in the Dark - Melissa Etheridge

ily - Surf Mesa, Emilee

Space Man - Eurielle

To Be Loved - Aurora

In the Blood - Darren Korb

Can’t Help Falling in Love - Tommee Profitt

Astronomical - SVRCINA

Oh Comely - Neutral Milk Hotel

In This Shirt - The Irrepressibles

goblincore + cottagecore

moonlit love letters 🌙💌 (sailor moon-inspired lofi mix)

Moonlight Densetsu Lo-Fi Remix 1 hour version

Peaceful Meditation

February

Never Forget You - Zara Larsson

Is You Ready - Migros

Recomposed Four Seasons - Max Richter

The End - JPOLND

Love Yourself - Sufjan Stevens

Deja | Daniel Roure

Used To Like | Neon Trees

Material Boy - Sir Sly

Willow - Taylor Swift

Overture - Apashe

Evangeline - Josh Garrels

Gris, pt 1 - Berlinist

Inferno - Hiroyuki Sawano

March

BAMBAM - Angie

Dictator - Rei Ami

Demons - Hayley Kiyoko

Runaway - Rei Ami

Deep Blue - Marcus Warner

Brave New World - Kalandra

Nero - The Speed

The Path of Silence - Anne Sophie Versnaeyen

Tuleloits - Kerli

Soft to Be Strong - Marina

Relic - Reeder

Ascension - Gorillaz

Will You Follow Me Into the Dark - Klergy

Voidfish (Plural) - Rachel Mitchell

Raya and the Last Dragon soundtrack

Unicorn Wizard - Ninja Sex Party

Me Too - Meghan Trainor

Umbrella - Rihanna

Colors Flying High - Lollia

Wake Up, Get Up, Get Out There - Lyn

lovely - khalid

Burn My Dread - Lotus Juice

Progress - The Dear Hunter

My Mother Told Me - Rachel Hardy

Savage Daughter - Sarah Ross

Four - Sleeping At Last

April

The Other Side - Amarante

Predator & Prey - Griffin Puatu

As the World Caves In -Matt Maltese

Tell Her I Wasn’t Scared - Dan Thiessen

Esmeralda - Adriel Genet

Woods - AfterInfinity

So Human of You - Shireen

Flags of Rome - Jesper Kyd

Do It All the Time - I don’t Know How But They Found Me

Hummingbirds - Venus Hum

On and On - Curtis Harding

Grand Escape - RADWIMPS

my ex’s best friend - machine gun kelly

Sofia - Clairo 

Girls Just Wanna Have Fun - Charlotte Lawrence

Next Level - 7KingZ

Tell Me - Johnny Jewel

Get Out of Town - Firefles

Music for Anglo Saxes

I See Darkness In You - Red Mecca

Satan Is His Name - Holly Golightly

Rocky Trail - Kings of Convenience

Story - NF

Because the Night - 10,000 Maniacs

Use to Be (L.O.V.E.) - Chelsea Collins

Bird on a Wire - Simone Istwa

Huzzah - Nathan Barr

POSTED FIC

January

gonna make you feel, boy | Hades | Megaera/Thanatos/Zagreus | 1,101 words | “You can touch, you know,” she murmurs, satisfaction and anticipation warring within her. Her pulse pounds. Zagreus’s eyes have darkened, his pupils eating up all that color. He looks good enough to eat.

February

how long do we have? | She Ra | Adora/Catra | 1,539 words | “The war is over, Adora,” Catra tells her. Adora hums. “Maybe. Maybe not.”

March

only fools rush in | The Adventure Zone | Taako/Magnus | 5,209 words | “Okay,” Taako says, sitting down heavily. “So. Ancient ritual to… bring people together?”

til my lungs both billow out | The Magnus Archives | Jon/Martin | 748 words | The knife goes in. The tape runs out.

the echo, as wide as the equator | The Untamed | Lan Wangji/Wei Wuxian | 2,927 words |  “Lan Zhan,” Wei Ying whispers after it is done.

April

N/A

WIPS | UNPUBLISHED | ORIGINAL

January

1685 words of Buzzfeed Unsolved, tattoo AU

February

N/A

March

3121 words of Magnus/Taako, Stolen Century verse Posted!

April

852 words of Steve/Billy

FANMIXES/GRAPHICS

January

got the morbs: sad/somber songs for sad/somber people

2021: a mix for the year that comes after 2020

Sahara Baby: a mix for songs that sound like Spanish Sahara

Fire Baby: a mix for songs that sound like Play With Fire

Consequences Baby: a mix for songs that sound like Consequences

Paradise Baby: a mix for songs that sound like Paradise Valley

Real Boy: a Zagreus playlist

February

N/A

March

only fools rush in: a taako/magnus playlist

pomegranate seeds: a persephone playlist

make them bow: a megaera playlist

fuck feelings: a taako playlist

til my lungs both billow out: a jonmartin playlist

April

i am my mother’s savage daughter: a playlist for the girl

[deniigi]

,,selkie verse meets multiverse? would that get too crazy

it absolutely would, but I don’t care!!

Peter = Peter B.

—

This kid was an ant. Not a spider. Definitely an ant. Peter could see no way around this one and he had half a mind to take the little guy’s spindly fingers and tell him to go locate a man called Scott Lang. That was S-C-O-T-T—

“Oh, this is Johnny,” the ant-child said to Miles. “He’s my fire.”

Peter’s brain screeched to a halt mid-spelling and he nearly did a double take when he realized the eyes glaring at him out of a literally blazing face were familiar.

No.

No.

No.

He needed a picture. Johnny didn’t know about the multiverse and would possibly break Peter’s arm in retaliation for finding out about it before him on top of this blackmail material, but fuck that. Nuh-uh.

A Johnny Storm this tiny could not go undocumented.

“Fire?” Miles said. Baby fire-Johnny bared his teeth at him when he leaned forward, then jerked to do the same at Peter’s phone camera. That was fine.

Peter adjusted the white balance to account for the flames.

“Yeah, he’s a fire,” the ant-child repeated to Miles. “I’m a witch and gave him my soul and he branded me with his sign and then we traded hearts, so now he’s my fire.”

This blessed boy had blown straight past what Miles was asking him like a speeding car.

Peter decided that he liked him.

“You’re a witch,” Miles repeated. “A Spiderman witch? A Spiderwitch?”

The ant-child stared.

“What are you talking about?” he asked like an absolute dream.

Fuck it. Peter loved him.

“Listen, I just told you this. I’m Peter and this is my fire,” Witch-Peter reiterated. “It’s not more complicated than that.”

“Right,” Gwen interrupted, “But you’re still Spiderman, right?”

Witch-Peter was insulted right out of his little head. Johnny shivered through a strong pulse of fire and abandoned his glaring at Peter to scramble forward so that he stood between Witch-Peter and Gwen.

It was tooth-achingly sweet. Baby Blaze was ready to bite Gwen at any second on his buddy’s behalf.

“O…kay, you know what? Nevermind. You’re Spiderman. With a fire. Obviously,” Gwen said in the face of the heat Johnny was starting to put off.

Both Witch-Peter and Baby Blaze appreciated the concession. They dropped the tension.

“We’re just asking because you’re new on our roster,” Miles explained. “We’re making a list of all the Spideys we can. You know, throughout the multiverse.”

Peter was 99.9% sure that Witch-Peter had not known of the multiverse previous to this moment, but he took it without so much as a blink and nodded understandingly.

“I guess that’s fine,” the kid said with a shrug. “So long as you’re just passing through it doesn’t matter. Just be careful to stay away from Brooklyn for now. Sergeant Barnes is a cú sidhe and he’s been barking and chasing people who cross over into his territory lately.”

“A…?” Gwen said.

“A cú sidhe,” Witch-Peter said. “I’m not real clear on the specifics but Foggy says it’s like a grim reaper dog.”

“He’ll reap your soul if you’re human,” Johnny whispered.

“He’s not reaping souls, he’s just barking. Stop telling people that,” Witch-Peter snapped, batting Johnny out from in front of him with a hand. “Foggy thinks he’s just a little confused now that he’s not stuck in his human form all the time.”

“He tried to reap Daredevil,” Johnny said.

Did he now?

Johnny turned his full attention back to Peter. His blue eyes had little flecks of orange in them.

“He did,” he said. “But Foggy scared him off.”

…Foggy? As in Franklin Nelson? As in Franklin Nelson, human teddy bear?

Witch-Peter and Johnny took a moment to give Peter a good, hard look.

—

This verse was wild.

“Fogs—”

Wild. Absolutely nuts. And Peter wanted to know everything about it. It was like watching a car wreck on the side of the road. Each inch forward unlocked a new, more fascinating piece of the puzzle.

“Fogs, stop growling. There are people right here,” A perfectly normal-looking Matt Murdock said with a hand on the shoulder of the Franklin Nelson in front of him.

Peter had never seen such a pale Foggy. Blond? Yeah, he’d met one now, but this guy’s hair was long and nearly white. His eyes were silver and his skin was darkening—really darkening, like, turning black–in splotches under one of his eyes as Peter watched.

There was something about his teeth that wasn’t quite right.

Miles and Gwen pressed into Peter’s side in shock, but all Peter could think was ‘now, this guy’s got some fuckin’ angles.’

“Can you just—yeah, hold that,” he said, adjusting his camera settings again.

“Peter?” Gwen mumbled, “Maybe now’s not the time?”

“One more,” Peter said.

The sound of growling intensified. Peter could feel it in his chest.

“Fogs,” Matt Murdock said. “For real, you’re gonna start drooling. Think of the children.”

“It’s okay, Foggy,” Witch-Peter said. “They’re just passing through.”

This information had no impact on Foggy. If anything, he just seemed to get even more aggressive in Peter and the kids’ direction.

Incredible.

Peter wondered if he could get someone to close those blinds over there. The potential contrast between this guy and the dingy office was off the charts.

“Peter,” Miles whispered a little desperately. “Maybe put the phone away? Don’t think he likes the phone.”

Ehn. Alright. Fine.

Kind of a bummer though, Peter wasn’t gonna lie.

–

“What is he?” Miles whispered once Nelson had finished categorically refusing to talk to any of them. He’d made strong, unsubtle indications for them all to leave the office immediately, then he’d more or less herded Murdock into a tiny office and an argument had started up in there as soon as the door had slammed shut.

“A selkie,” Witch-Peter said. “A seal-person. He knows a lot more about fae than most people in the city do. If we have questions about the fae, then we ask Foggy first, and if he doesn’t know, he’ll send us to someone who does.”  

“He wants to drown me,” Johnny insisted.

“No, Matt wants to drown you,” Witch-Peter corrected.

“They both want to drown me,” Johnny told Peter confidently.

Adorable.

“Anyways, I’m gonna go find Foggy an offering to say sorry before he curses you or something,” Witch-Peter said. “If you guys are gonna be wandering around, it’s probably best to avoid Hell’s Kitchen and Brooklyn right now. Don’t talk to the guy in the coat outside 34th street station, and don’t buy anything anyone tries to sell you on Lexington Avenue. It’s all cursed wares and Foggy won’t help you break any garment spells in the mood he’s in right now,  so we’d have to go to like, Rosedale to get you any decent kind of talisman.”

“Noted,” Gwen said. “Uh, thanks? Nice to meet you?”

Witch-Peter hummed and held out his hand. He had a leather bracelet with a piece of ceramic on it wrapped tight around his wrist.

“Nice to meet you too,” he said. “Best of luck with your roster. Come on, Johnny, let’s go see if we can find a bucket.”

Johnny let his buddy head off down the street for a couple beats before turning around abruptly and snatching Gwen’s hand.

“Go with ease,” he told it.

Gwen stared. Johnny let go and smiled at her.

“That better?” he asked.

Gwen continued to stare.

“It’s okay,” Johnny said. “Some people have no luck. You’re not the only one.”

And then he spun around and chased after Witch-Peter. Gwen looked down at her hand.

–

There was a mark on Gwen’s wrist now. She was fascinated by it. It looked like a half circle with five lines sectioning it off on the round side.

“How’d he do that?” she wondered aloud at it.

The mark faded a little.

“I suspect that’s how long we’ve got to get out of here,” Peter said, kind of excited at the idea.

This place was like a video game.

“Should we go, then?” Gwen asked.

Mm. Probably. But Peter was definitely coming back to this place and he was bringing his DSLR.

It was like the whole city was balanced on magic.

–

[zmediaoutlet]

whatever we were before

finally posting my masquerade fill! The anon asked for a Dragon Age/SPN crossover, in which Dean is Hawke. I screeched lightly under my breath when I saw it, and delivered. (I hope!)

title: whatever we were before pairing: Sam/Dean rating: E

summary: After the expedition into the Deep Roads, Dean's a rich man. He bought back the ancestral family manor, and he's safe. He's not okay, though, because for all they gained on the expedition--he lost so much more.

(read on AO3)

Kirkwall’s never quiet at night. Dean’s gotten used to it, although it’s a far cry from the farm back home in Ferelden. There, the most he was likely to hear at night was a fox trying to get into the chickens, or Dad coming home soused from the inn, sleeping in the mudroom because he couldn’t work out the lock Dean had built to keep the Templars out. Here, surrounded by people, it feels—he used to think it was crowded, but now it just feels like life, being lived. People always working, the city humming along with each part always moving. He still remembers lying awake at his uncle’s house in Lowtown, that horrible week after they’d first arrived, staring at the ceiling in the narrow room and unable to shut it out—the city, a throbbing entity. He’s glad he can sleep, now. Makes things easier to bear.

His legs have stopped aching, too, after this many months walking up and down the Great Stairs. Isabela says they’ve done great work for his physique; Dean’s just glad his arse and thighs will agree to support him after the long climb from the docks to Hightown. This morning Aveline had guilted him into doing an errand for her, something the city guard should’ve taken care of, but really it didn’t take that much guilting—she and he both knew that he’d be able to do it faster, better, and cleaner, and anyway it was good to get out, into the fresh air. He's moneyed now, and maybe a lordling of a sort, if the Free Marches would only admit that their merchant-princes were no different from the nobility of the south, but still. He’d grown up using his muscles and his mind, and it felt right to be out on the cliffs, salt-spray in his face and his armor settled comfortably on his shoulders, his sword ready at his hip. So. They’d gone out, and he’d—killed. Quite a few. Slavers, they were, and he didn’t feel bad about killing them but the battle had been messy, and he’d had to wash the blood off in the sea, the salt gritting into the crevices of his mail and stiffening the leather. He’s glad he didn’t bring Fenris; there would’ve been so much more blood.

His legs don’t ache, but it feels like every other part does, when he gets to the top of the stairs. The guards at Hightown’s gates nod to him, deferent like they weren’t three years ago, and he doesn’t respond. Pricks, the lot of them, granting respect only for fine clothes and finer real estate. He wishes he’d gotten back hours ago, when he might've blended in to the general throng, but he’s made it a habit to walk his friends home, to make sure they're safe. He saw Merrill back to her little house, and Isabela and Varric back to their inn, and stayed there for a pint or two, celebrating a successful job.

A job—ha. Still how he thinks of it, after all that time of scrambling in Lowtown, trying to put food on the family’s table. He walks the now-familiar streets, slate stones laid down on the neat boulevards the merchants control, and he misses—sort of—yes, he misses the rolled-cobbles and grit of the old neighborhoods, and the wild-grown weeds among the stones by the Hanged Man. Used to the city, but missing the city. He can hear a sarcastic voice in his ear, saying, Dean, that doesn't make any sense, but he ignores it. He’s tired. No energy for misery, not now.

Winchester Manor still has lamps lit in the entry when he comes to the square. Despite everything, his shoulders relax a little, seeing it. He unlocks the door and it’s warm inside, smells of bread baking, and in the time it takes for him to set his sword and shield on their rack in the armory off the entry, Bodahn appears, and pops his head around the corner to say, "Ah, Master Winchester. Good hunting, I trust?"

Dean smiles, and it’s only partly an effort. "Good enough, Bodahn. Send a runner to the palace, to let Aveline know I’ll see her tomorrow afternoon, all right?"

"Very good, sir," Bodahn says, agreeable as always, but then looks at him critically. "I’ll have dinner sent up to your chambers, yes? Sandal will have gotten a bath ready."

Even after years, he’s still not used to servants, but— "Yes," he says, and the relief that washes through him is probably ridiculous, but. "Yes, thank you."

The parlor’s warm enough, but dark, the only light coming from the banked fire. Other than Bodahn and Sandal, the house is always empty. He stands and looks at the great tapestry, the family crest tracing the family down to their father’s name. The embroidery stops there. He licks his lips, looking at the faded silk, and turns away, and trudges up the broad stairs, aware that his boots are tracking the dust and dirt of the lower city on the thick carpets. Sandal will clean it up.

The master room is so big. Bigger than his uncle’s whole house, he thinks. He’s paced it; he’s pretty sure. The fire in here is roaring, and the lamps are lit by the bedside and on the desk, and his armor stand is waiting for him to strip, piece by piece. The chest plate, and the pauldrons, and his gauntlets, and the mail, and the boots, and the leather weskit, and when he’s left in his shirt he shivers, all over, though the room’s more than warm enough. In the corner, by the pushed-aside screen, the bath sits steaming by some magic Sandal’s very proud of and that Dean doesn’t at all understand, but he’s grateful when he sinks down into it. It’s big enough that he can fit his shoulders against one edge and keep his feet below the water on the other, a luxury he’d never imagined as a child and which, still, by every measure, is the greatest advantage of his life as he lives it now. Some kind of fragrant oil scenting the steam—elfroot maybe, or the arbor blessing Bodahn was bragging about acquiring a few weeks ago. Makes the water slip like silk against his skin while the soothing heat works its way past muscle to the bone. Makes it easy not to think, to relax. Finally.

"You look so spoiled," he hears, and he surges up—because—

"Sam," he breathes. He's so sure he’s dreaming, that a desire demon has worked its way into his mind and is showing him some helplessly sought-after vision, that he digs his nails deep enough into his own thigh that he’ll bruise—but Sam’s still standing there, in the doorway. Sam.

"It’s me," Sam says, and—yes. Of course it is. Sam, with dirt on his cheek, and a healed-over scrape under that, and his hair grown long and falling into his eyes. Sam, wearing the uniform of the Wardens just like the last time Dean saw him, studded leather over his chest and the blue-and-white tabard still belted around his narrow waist. Sam, leaning his staff into the corner—a new one, blackened oak and a stone Dean doesn’t recognize—and Sam, walking across the room with his boots thudding into the carpet—and Sam, crouching by the bath, and touching Dean’s cheek, and Dean surging halfway out of the bath and sloshing water everywhere and kissing him, kissing him, because—Sam, here. Here, when Dean had thought—

"It’s me," Sam says again, "Dean, I’m here," and Dean says, "I can see you’re fuckin’ here, Sammy, I—Sam—" and Sam laughs and says, "I know, sorry, I—" and kisses him again, hand cupping the back of Dean's skull and Dean’s hands tight in Sam’s hair and hurting his nails against the leather of Sam’s brigandine because—three years, it’s been three goddamn years and no letters, no word, and Dean hadn’t known—hadn’t had anything beyond hope—that Sam was alive and well at the fortress at Weisshaupt and that he hadn’t met his end by the claws of some darkspawn or a warg or—by all gods, by all faith, Sam.

It’s a while—Dean on his knees in the bath, and Sam kneeling in the puddle he’d made, and their hands locked into each other, and Dean breathing Sam and his smell of the road and rancid sweat and campfires and old blood, and Sam’s forehead against Dean’s and his hair tickling, and the taste of his mouth—his mouth—it’s a while, before Dean’s brain unfogs enough to realize that he’s just holding Sam, and they’re only breathing with their mouths barely touching, and Sam’s stomach is growling. Loud, in fact, and Sam’s nose wrinkles. "Sorry," he says, and Dean says, "You idiot," soft as soft, and struggles up to standing with the water streaming down from his body, and Sam looks up at him for a moment with his eyes dark and almost unfamiliar.

Dean hesitates, water up to his calves, naked. Aware of new scars, ones Sam hasn’t seen—his body, not the one Sam left. Sam stands, then, and Dean blinks. "You’re tall," he says, stupid-sounding even to his own ears, and Sam smiles at him all smug. He was tall already, at twenty—not at all fair, not at all, that he’s gained even more inches, and Dean steps out of the bath and shoves at Sam’s broad chest and fetches his dressing gown off the screen where Sandal always leaves it and tries to muster some kind of dignity as he wraps it around himself.

His dinner’s waiting on the sideboard outside his room, as always—Bodahn overly respectful of his privacy, as always—but it’s good, now, not to have to see anyone else, not to have another person interrupt. He turns with the tray and Sam’s unfastening his brigandine, slinging it untidily on the ground and wrestling his tabard over his chest so he’s left in his weskit and linen shirt and trousers, his boots still carrying gods know how many miles of mud, and he sniffs and says, "Is that stew?" all hopeful, and oh, oh, it’s Dean’s little brother, home.

He still eats like a teenager. Dean pours wine for both of them, watches Sam tear into the bread and meat like he’s starving. "Don’t they feed you at Weisshaupt?" Dean says, rhetorical, and Sam rolls his eyes and takes his goblet and gulps the wine down, gasping. "Oh, that’s—fantastic," he says, and takes a slower draught, eyes closed, and Dean watches him with his heart surging so high he’s surprised Sam can’t see the throb of it, in his throat and wrists and gut. Sam’s got days of not shaving thickening his stubble almost to a beard, and he tucks his hair behind his ears but it keeps falling forward, unruly. Without the Warden uniform he’s big, broad. Muscles thick in his shoulders, his arms, like they weren’t when he was a boy and he’d complain about having to help Dean on the farm, about training with a short sword, whining that he had magic and I’ll just throw a fireball at the darkspawn, Dean, and back then Dean could still cuff him over the head and drag him into Dean’s armpit and say yeah, but I’m in charge, and you're not allowed to throw a fireball at me, so—

Feels like a lifetime ago. Sam scrapes the last piece of bread around his bowl, sopping up the rich gravy, and then slumps back in his chair, sighing. "Long time since I’ve had food like this," he says, and Dean wants to ask—has so many questions. When was it, he wants to know, and where have you been, and are you okay—are you okay, the only question that matters, and he can’t face asking it right now with Sam sated and warm and here, here, and Sam’s eyes slit open and he looks at Dean, then, steady.

"What," Dean says, when it’s been too long without talking.

Sam smiles, brief. "What," he echoes, and seems right then—older than Dean, decades older—but he just leans forward and hooks his hand into the hollow of Dean’s bare knee, squeezes. Dean’s skin shivers in shock, all over, and Sam smiles deeper then, dimples carving into his cheeks. "I want—" Sam says, and shakes his head, and laughs under his breath. "Too much."

Dean takes a deep breath. "You reek," he says, and Sam huffs and looks down, as though Dean were saying it like a complaint.

"Yeah," Sam says, and pushes back from the table and strips bare. Bare, right there, in their ancestral home, until he stands naked with his feet on the carpet, linens and leathers piled stinking next to him, and he raises his eyebrows at Dean like a challenge and then walks back across to the bath and steps in, sinks down. Still hot, through that enchantment, and Dean watches dry-mouthed as the steam rises, as Sam slips his hands along his skin. He has scars, too. He’d never had much interest in healing magic. Welted-white lines on his arms, and an ugly twisting thing on his chest. The bite-mark, from the darkspawn, which sent him to the Wardens in the first place.

He rinses off the scented soap, splashes his face with the fragrant water, scrubs his scalp. The hair on his chest and in his armpits and at his groin has blackened with wet, and he runs a hand over his head, pushing the wet hair back from his face and looking at Dean while he does it, and Dean says, finally, "Sammy, you’re killing me," in a voice he doesn’t recognize. Sam smiles at him and gets up out of the bath in a surge of dripping water and meets Dean in the middle of the room and kisses him again, leaning down this time with his hands cupped around Dean’s ears, all the long wet of him soaking into Dean’s dressing gown but it’s—it’s okay, it’s better than okay.

The bed’s so big. So much bigger than any they ever had, when they were kids. Sam leans over him still dripping, his hair hanging down around Dean’s face and his shoulders blocking out the firelight. He pushes a hand into Dean’s gown, pets down his chest—his stomach—and Dean doesn’t know why it’s a shock when Sam grabs up his dick but it is, it is, and Dean grips Sam’s shoulders and shudders, bites his lip. "Yeah," Sam says, soft, sweet like he used to be, sometimes. When they were kids in the wheat fields, and hiding in the summer from chores Dean should’ve been making them do, and Sam asked soft for a kiss and Dean didn’t, couldn’t, say no. Sam noses against his cheek, smelling like herbs, and he says, "I missed you," gripping Dean hard and knowing. Different, to how it was, and in the grip Dean feels whoever Sam’s been with in the time between, and shoves his hips up, groaning. Sam kisses below his ear and says, "Dean, I—missed you, so much," and Dean makes a strangled noise he’ll be embarrassed by later and pushes Sam over, because new height and muscle or not, Dean’s the big brother here, and he ends up with Sam under him, tanned and young and beautiful, and staring at him like—like Dean doesn’t know, but he leans down and kisses him because he has to, he has to, because if he doesn’t he’ll say crazy things, things he doesn’t know if he’s ready to hear, much less for Sam to hear—

Sam groans, grips at his arms, pushes his hips up. Oh—oh, Sammy’s dick, and that hasn’t changed, big and urgent and pressing against Dean’s thigh. Sam unties his dressing gown, somewhere in the shadows between them, and grips at Dean’s ass, tugging him in tight. Ah—and that, that is like being a teenager again, Sam grasping and desperate. He pushes his dick against Sam’s tight belly, makes a noise. "Sam," he says, stupid, and Sam grips his hips and tilts and his dick slides up between the cheeks of Dean’s ass, solid, bulling.

"Oh," Sam breathes, against his mouth, and drops his head back to the pillow, wet hair spread out around his face. He blinks at Dean, while he pumps his hips—sawing back and forth, damp and threatening, while Dean breathes open-mouthed and stares down at him. His dick throbs, trapped against Sam’s belly. "Have you—" Sam says, and bites his lower lip, and shakes his head. "How long? Can we—"

How long. Dean remembers that morning in exact, perfect detail. Varric had said to meet in the square at noon and so that left hours, hours, and he’d woken at dawn and washed himself, red-faced and hoping his uncle would have the usual hangover that kept him abed well past the two o’clock hour. Then he’d come to Sam in the tiny mud-spattered room they shared and woken him with a finger to his lips and they’d—all morning, while the city churned just outside the thin walls, and the appointed hour crawled closer. He’d fucked Sam, and Sam hadn’t come and had pushed him over onto his belly after he was done and fucked him right back, just as Dean had known he would, and he’d kissed all over Dean’s shoulders and covered his back and said, take me, and Dean had known Sam meant into the Deep Roads, and Dean had said no, Sammy, shaking, wanting—it’s too dangerous, come on, and Sam had pushed into him and trapped Dean’s wrists against the blanket covering their awful straw-tick pallet and said against his ear, I’m coming, like it was already decided, and Dean had shuddered and come again, and he’d shown up at the square with Anders at his left shoulder and Sam at his right, smug, and Varric had shrugged and said, don’t slow us down, short stuff, to Sam, and the night before Sam got bitten by a darkspawn Sam had looked at him from his bedroll inches away in the camp and smiled, happy—unaccountably happy, like Sam almost never was.

Sam swallows, in the face of Dean’s silence. "Really," he says, but not like he’s asking. He grips at Dean’s ass, pulling the cheeks apart, dragging him in so his dick smears wet all over Sam’s stomach, and then lifts up on one elbow and kisses Dean—soft, soft, lips pulling slow and easy, like a winter morning with only snow outside and no responsibility to anyone but this.

No one could ever be what Sam was, to Dean. He’s screwed around with Isabela, a few times, deep in their cups at the Hanged Man and nothing waiting for either of them, but it meant nothing—she slapped his ass when he was done and said well done, soldier, and he laughed, and left her there and didn’t think about it outside of that room. Once, with Fenris, when they were so piss-drunk on wine he didn’t even remember what had happened, other than an impression of lyrium-brightness, and a mouth on his throat. Not something they’ve spoken of since. He doesn’t know what Sam’s done, at Weisshaupt or on the roads between here and there, and he doesn’t care because what matters is that Sam’s in his bed. Whether Sam will be here in the morning, whether he’s deserted or if there’s some other quest waiting, some new hardship that’ll sweep them both away—he can't think about that, right now. Not when he has this in front of him.

"Do it," he mumbles, his mouth pressed against Sam’s shoulder, and feels Sam shudder, all against him. He wants it—wants the hurt, like that first time when Sam was sixteen and they’d hidden in the woods behind the Chantry, fumbling—he’s a warrior, he knows from pain, and having Sam is the kind that’s worth it.

Sam shakes his head, though—shakes his head, and smears his mouth against Dean’s throat, lips dragging, says—"I want—" and flips them, surge of muscle, and descends to get his lips on Dean’s dick, going down so fast that he chokes, and Dean’s legs seize and draw up but Sam’s shoulders are wide enough to keep them apart and he’s left arching, shocked, body seizing. Oh—this, this—nights in their room at home, learning each other while Dad was gone, Sam daring to make spark-lights above their heads, the magic just enough to see the way Sam’s cheekbone stood out above the hollowed dark of his cheek—and now, the firelight setting Sam’s hair to auburn where it’s half-dried and standing out messy around his head, and the steady practiced working of his tongue, and the gliding silk of his cheek when he lets Dean’s cockhead push against it. Dean’s balls clutch up, too fast. Sam knows, somehow—pulls back, gasping, spit connecting him to Dean’s dick in a sloppy string that he licks up only after a second hanging there—and he looks at Dean up the stretch of his torso, pink burnt into his cheeks and patchy on his chest, want in his eyes. Want, and nothing else, and Dean thumbs over the wet dark of his lips and holds his jaw, and Sam leans in still watching him and suckles at the head, sparky jolting pressure crushing up in Dean’s gut and balls and in his fingertips, his toes curling, and Sam closes his eyes and goes down, his hand on Dean’s stomach like a ton weight, his hair brushing Dean’s belly, his mouth warm, and Dean—

It’s only after, that Dean works up the courage. When Sam’s spilled over his stomach and Dean’s cleaned them both up, haphazard, with the skirt of his dressing gown. With wine still in the bottle, while they pass it back and forth between them, and the fire gilding amber light over Sam’s shoulders. He meets Dean’s eyes and they both laugh, for what reason Dean doesn’t know but it feels good, right. Sam’s mouth is curled still at the corners, and Dean rolls close and drags his thumb along Sam’s ribs, where they used to stand out against the hungry pit of his belly, and says, before he can chicken out, "Gonna stay, Sammy?"

He doesn’t know if he’s ready to hear the answer, but he needs to hear it. Sooner, rather than later, so he’ll know if he can rest now, or if he needs to plan for a sleepless night of taking in every single ounce of Sam that he can—every story, every kiss. Every ounce of blood it’ll take to last more years, without him. If he even can.

Sam sighs, and settles his hand on Dean’s hip. "I ran," he says, very quietly. Dean looks at him and Sam’s watching his face. "We went on patrol, into the Anderfels, and I slipped my commander and stole a horse and rode. East, as far as I could go before the horse went lame, and then I kept going." Sam shrugs, with one shoulder. "There’s a lot of east, between the Anderfels and the Free Marches. But I didn’t stop."

Dean breathes, shaky, imagining. The world opening up, when it's been so long of his compacted, empty nothing. Okay. Hiding Sam from the Wardens—and his neighbors—and what they’ll do. How they'll live—will they have to run? He doesn't know, and realizes after so long of grinding to get to this place, he doesn't care. The house doesn't matter, the city doesn't matter. Nothing has mattered, without Sam.

Sam’s still watching him, eyes dark, and Dean reaches out and tucks his hair back from his forehead, pushing it behind his ear. "You’ll have to tell me about Orlais sometime," he says, and Sam smiles at him.

"Bunch of cheese-eaters," he says, leaning in close like it’s a secret, and Dean laughs, soft and tired and feeling, for the first time in three years, like he’s whole.

[offical-dystopiantale]

*Chapter 2: Talk to me..*

Ink: Age 16

Error: Age 17

Part 1

Ink sighed, leaning back against the large oak tree behind him. Error, who sat beside him, looked up from his own math textbook, adjusting his red framed glasses. “You good?”

“My brain hurts.”

Error hummed, closing his book and tossing it aside. “We don’t have brains.”

Ink groaned and rolled his eyes, earning a snort from his friend. “Since when have you cared if something was accurate or not?”

“Since just now.” The taller skeleton took off his glasses, placing them into their special case. “The sun’s gonna go down soon. We should probably head back.”

The two boys were about half an hour out of town, at a small hill with a tree at the top; they found out about the place when they were younger, when Winter had taken them out for a picnic. Once they had gotten their driver's license, it became one of their regular hangout spots; along with Ink’s room.

… Speaking of which, it suddenly occurred to Ink that he’d never actually been in Error’s room. Or his house in general.

“Hey, earth-to-shorty.” Error gave him a gentle push, Ink blew a raspberry.

“Don’t call me that, you jerk.”

Error snorted again, leaning over to rest his arms on his knees. He gave Ink a wink, making the smaller skeleton’s ‘stomach’ do a flip, and his cheeks to flush. “It’s not my fault you’re only 4 feet tall”

Ink sank into his turtleneck sweater, efficiently hiding his ever growing blush. “I’m 4’11, not 4 feet.”

Error scooted closer to him, poking his cheek. “Aw, come on. Don’t be mad, I was only teasing you.”

That’s the problem, you idiot…

Ink had known for a while now that he had feelings for his taller friend. When they first started grade nine he started noticing he enjoyed being with Error more than just a friend would, and he’d get moments where he just wanted to hug him, or cuddle him and fall asleep curled up to his chest, or hold hands as they walked together.

Or kiss him.

He really, really wanted to kiss him.

Shaking his head to rid himself of the thoughts, he pushed Error’s hand away and stuck his tongue out. “Not all of us were blessed with incredible height”

.”Awe, you think I’m incredible?” Error wiggled his eyebrows as Ink’s blush darkened.

“Screw you!”

The ebony skeleton erupted into laughter, rocking backward. “You’re like an angry kitten, oh my god!”

Ink huffed, throwing a pencil at his friend, and gathered up the rest of his stuff into his bag. “Oh, whatever. Let’s head back, you big Glitch.”

Error gave a weak chuckle at his nickname, standing up to follow Ink to their car - since the two of them were almost always together, they decided they would buy the car together, and take turns driving.

“Do you want to hang out at my place for a bit? I think my mom was planning on baking cookies today.”

“Oh hell yeah, her baking is the fucking best.”

Ink slid into the car’s passenger seat, laughing and rolling his eyes. “Didn’t you say you were going to work on not swearing so much?

Error started the engine, and it made a whirring noise as it came to life. “I lied. I’m here for a fun time, not a long time, so I’ll say whatever shit I want to.” Ink giggled quietly, but there was a part of that sentence that made a lump form in his throat.

The ebony skeleton switched on the radio, an upbeat song suddenly filling the silence. Ink felt his worries wash away; things were good, they only had one more year of high school after this, and nothing bad was really happening in the world.

And he had Error.

The small monster felt himself relax, singing loudly and happily to the songs on the radio.n Eventually he got his friend to sing as well which only made his cheeks bloom with colour once again.

*****

Error grabbed another one of the still warm cookies off the plate in the middle on Ink’s bed, listening to the smaller monster ramble from the other end of the bed.. He always enjoyed being with Ink in his room; obviously not only because he was with his friend, but because the room was so colourful, cozy, and so very ‘Ink”.

The walls were painted baby blue with a soft gray carpet covering the floor. Above his plush bed - that was easily big enough for the both of them to sit (or lay) on at the same time - was Ink’s rainbow flag. In grade ten, during their school’s pride day, all the students were encouraged to wear rainbow items, or anything that supported the LGBTQ+ community. Ink managed to get Error to wear two buttons- one with the pan flag, and the other one with a rainbow - since he didn’t own any pride items himself, and the smaller skeleton has decided to tie his flag around his neck and wear it like a cape all day.

The poor monster had been bullied ruthlessly by a lot of their classmates because of it, and it came to the point that Error debated beating the shit out of them. He didn’t though, per Ink’s requests.

Now the flag stayed in his home, behind closed doors.

It pissed Error off to no end. He could still remember the way Ink’s eyes had drained of their sparkle when the flag idea backfired.

At least Winter was accepting of her son.

Unlike some people Error knew...

He shook his head, slipping back to the moment at hand.

Next to Ink’s bed was a side table with a glass of water and a lamp sitting on it. Next to the lamp was a framed photo of Error and Ink taken when the where 10 and 11, during their first summer as friends. Error remembered once asking his shorter friend why he decided to frame that photo, and not one that was more recent. The white skeleton had smiled and explained that that photo was extra special because it was taken so soon after they met; and that it meant a lot to Ink that they became friends.

Error didn’t know why someone like Ink cared about him, but he was thankful nonetheless.

“Error?”

The ebony skeleton snapped his eyes away from the picture and focused back on his friend, his cheeks turning blue. He’d completely zoned out, and had no idea what Ink had been saying.

The monster giggled, cheeks coming to life with a dusting of colour. “You got kinda distracted there, you ok?”

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine. Uh, sorry, can you repeat what you were saying?”

Ink giggled again, making Error blush harder: it was such a soft sound… it made him want to hold the smaller monster close to him, to find other ways to make him make that sound.

… wait.

What the hell has gotten into me?!

It wasn’t necessarily the first time he had thought something like that, and it always made him do a double take on himself.

He wondered what it meant.

“ I was talking about how I get my braces off in a few months!” He smiled widely, showing off the brackets and wires that covered the surface of his teeth.

Error hummed, then said, “I still don’t understand why you wanted to get those in the first place. The teeth gap was cute.”

Ink’s eyes widened, his blush darkening immensely. He covered his face, grumbling. “No it wasn’t… it gave me a lisp when I started getting older, especially if i was talking fast. Besides, Bylk and his friends said-”

“You shouldn’t listen to what those assholes say.”

“COme on, Error, they’re not that bad anymore…”

Oh, sure. They weren’t ‘that bad’ because Bylk was absolutely terrified of Error, all because he beat his ass back in fifth grade. Truth be told, Bylk was also only 5’6, while Error was a towering 6’0. Not that he was complaining about it, he liked that Ink wasn’t getting harassed as much anymore, but the griffin’s little gang still took jabs at the small skeleton when he was alone (since Error and him only had two classes together this year).

At least they knew better than to actually lay a finger on the skeleton now.

“Whatever, they’re assholes.”

Ink huffed, leaning back against his pillows. “It’s getting late.” He said after a few minutes.

Error groaned, turning to his phone. Sure enough, it was almost 10:30.

Fuck

“Guess I should head home then.”

“Mm… yeah, I guess so. Oh! That reminds me. I’m not going to be at school tomorrow morning!”

“What? Why not?”

“Another doctor appointment.” Ink rolled his eyes, sighing heavily. For as long as Error knew him, Ink had always have to miss at least a day of school every two months for a ‘doctor’s’ appointment. From what the small skeleton had explained, all they did was take a look at his soul, make sure his magic levels were good and somehow they checked to make sure he was feeling things normally.

… Error didn’t really understand it.

“Do they bother you?”

“Eh, not really. They used to make me kinda uncomfortable but, you know. I’ve had so many, they’re normal now.” He let out a small laugh. “That being said, they are pretty annoying.”

The ebony skeleton couldn’t help but wonder what that must be like for Ink; what goes through his head when he really thinks about it.

“I...should be going” Error stood up, grabbing his school bag off the floor.

Ink waved. “See ya, Error!” He called after him as he waved and left the room.

He gave a short goodbye to Ink’s mother - who was sitting at the kitchen table, reading through some papers - and thanked her for the cookies before exiting out into the chilly night air. A wave a dread hit him as he stood at his front door.

Sucking in a breath, he unlocked the door, and pushed it open; praying his father was passed out.

Light from the TV in the living room eerily illuminated the dining room and front entrance. The stairs in front of Error looked like a tunnel, leading into a dark abyss. The seventeen-year-old pulled off his shoes and silently leaned into the living room. His father, Cyber Sona, sat spralled out on the reclining chair, empty beer cans and bottles littering the tables and some floor space around him: some were old, and others were new.

Error’s nose scrunched up in disgust and he quickly left the room; trying to be as quiet as possible as he went upstairs to his room, careful not to wake up his dad. Closing the door, Error sighed, sinking down onto his bed and dropping his bag carelessly onto the floor.

His room wasn’t anything like Ink’s; while his friend’s room was colourful and full of life, his was dark and gray. His bed was pressed against the wall next to the window and pointed towards Ink’s room - there had been many nights where they’d both sit by their windows, talking to each other through their phones. On the wall adjacent to his bed, he had a wooden desk covered in grade school assignments and writing utensils with his laptop sitting on top of it all. He also had a closet for clothes and such, but that was about it.

The house was deathly quiet, aside from the mindless chatter of the TV and occasional snore from the sleeping monster downstairs. Rolling over on his bed, the skeleton plucked his earphones off the cluttered side table next to his bed and plugged them into his phone.

He pressed play on a playlist, setting his phone down beside him, and stared up at the ceiling.

A recognizable numbness washed over him as the music made the house disappear around him, leaving only him...all alone. The feeling usually came when he got home from Ink’s, though sometimes it wasn’t so bad. Some days it was worse. Sometimes it lasted for days at a time, and he could barely bring himself to drag his ass out of bed.

Most days the numbness evolved into a deep and desperate sadness.

He rolled onto his side, pulling his comforter up and over top of him and burrowing his face into the pillow and blankets. He knew that sleep wouldn’t come to him, not yet at least, but the warmth gave him at least a little comfort; like a leash, keeping him tied to the real world and protecting him from falling into his thoughts completely.

Things always got worse when that happens.

[kcystotheheart]

{🍎} I don’t feel like i got all of them but MASSIVE TAG DROP/DUMP

♡ Home is where the Heart is... {IC}

✧ I foresee the end of all I know... {Ava}

#☪︎I'm howling with the wolves {Fida}

#✦ Breaking Traditions {Sub Alt V.} ⚔︎

#☮︎You are the future; the hope of this world... {Hope}

#♟Hidden from the rest of the World… Until now {Wandering V.} ✧

#🍎of someone's eye {Mun}

#✎ We may feel out of place; but we fit together so perfectly... {X Ventus} #♔♡ Eventually we all return to it... Kingdom Hearts {S A V E D} #⚖︎ I will keep a just and fair eye... {Invi} #♘ They look to me for Guidance... {Ira} #Heartless; Dusks; Unversed? All the same {Anon} #❥ ANSWERED

#✎ He's a work in progress and that's what matters! {Vanitas/tenebrxsus}

#✎ The Light to my Darkness; he makes up what I lack... {X Vanitas}

#✧ He may be all brawn; but he has the biggest heart {Aced/ursaced}

#✧ You wouldn't hurt me; I know... {X Aced} #✦ The Beginning of it all… {Past V.} ♙ #➳ All right; No more playing around! {Hayner} #♡ It's time to strike {Open Starter} #♔ Beyond the realms... {OOC} #♥︎ I'll find my way... {Riku} #✎ Let's make a promise; To hold each other through it all {X Riku} #♤ I won't fade away so easily! {Lingering Remnant!Vanitas} #♠︎ Different from the rest... {Springy/Hareraiser} #♥︎ Once a Somebody... now a Nobody {Nobody V.} ♤ #✦ A little Generosity never hurt nobody~ {Cari} #✦ He thinks he's sooo good; but I know he's bad~ {Indus/ursaced} #✦ Momma I'm in love with a criminal; I'm the bad guy duh~ {X Indus} #♡ We'll never let the darkness consume us... {Queue}

🎲 May Lady Luck be on your side~ {Fortune} 💘 No matter what happens i’ll always be by your side {Faith} ⚔️ That was undeniable proof that we totally owned you lamers! {Seifer} ⌨️ Cracking the {Code} 🌱Rough around the edges by soft on the inside [Jagged} 🌿 My Strength will help support them… {Aced} 🌟 I will always help the weak {Starlight} 🍃I’ll sweep you up and leave your head spinnin’! {Wind} 🛡 I will always defend them {Keeper} 🃏 Care to take a Gamble? {Luxord/Ordul} 🎵I can drop a beat {Demyx/Dyme}  🎼 Let me play a song for you~ {Arpeggio}

⚠︎ You make me feel things I thought were lost {X Lauriam} ♟ More alike than you know {Rei/solaimaginem} ✎ Even after all this time… we’re connected. {Terra/willfulwayfarer} ✎ We’ll find new secrets to discover… together! {Pence/dxgstreet} ✎ I want to capture this moment {X Pence} ➸✮ Blessed or Cursed with magic that runs within him {Magia} #🎐My Lazy Companion {Sir Snugglesopholis the Flood} #♝ I will prove my worth... {Xionort} #𝒳 No one will know... {Subject X V.} ⭑ #No longer Lost {Naminé; Vanitas & Repliku } #✎ We've had tough pasts but we can move forward {Aiden/lethargic-hunter} #♟We've cut our own strings and now we're free {Xion & Repliku} #Made a sacrifice {Repliku} #Always busy saving everyone else... {Aqua} #☯︎ Disciplinary Committee {Fuu; Seifer & Rai} #yOU leFT mE... {Nightmare Chirithy}

#Why does everything involve running? {Pence}

#Not your Typical Princess... {Kairi}

#Fun and Playful; Strong and Powerful {Ventus}

#♠︎ A little noisy... {Skitters/Flood}

#☓ Always watching; always seeing~ {Master of Masters}

#⭑ How bright is the future? {Skuld}

#♚ Stuck in Between Worlds... {Lingering V.} ♤

#✨I'll learn to use my magic for good {Apprentice V.} ✎

#✎ He understands me like no one else does {Max/pageofgoof}

#🍀I've got a present too; for all of us! {Olette}

#He once wandered the darkness seeking light; only to find he was the light {Riku}

#His smile brings about other people's happiness {Sora}

#👁‍🗨If only I could stand in her light... {Ava/verumheart}

#👁‍🗨If I could begin to be; half of what you think of me I'd do about anything {X Ava}

#🍀She sits by the Seashore {Kairi/thalassicradiance}

#✎ I'll never forget you; promise? {X Sora}

#♜ We all have our Roles to Play... {Foreteller V.} ♠︎

#♗ I have made mistakes & have more regrets than you could imagine {Master Eraqus}

#One of the strongest wielders there is {Terra}

#🎐My lovely little Pearl... {Kairi/thalassicradiance}

#♡ Something that simply resonates with me... {Aesthetic}

#➦ Portal Time {Shooter}

#➥ Eagle Eyes {Sharp}

#🌪Whispers on the Wind {Gale}

#♤ The Nobody that never was... {Kuxir}

#🎐When things are tough; I'll always welcome you home... {Ansem/afoolelopedindarkness}

#✦ I have to complete my role... {Sacrificed V.} ✧

#♡♔ Kingdom FARTS {Crack}

#♟No longer just a vessel... {Xion}

#♣︎ No one would miss me... And yet... {Roxas}

#☀︎ I always keep my promises... {Axel}

#⌁ I have to uncover the truth... {Gula}

#⚠︎ I will find a way to rewrite my Fate {Brain}

#☆⭒ A lost little Star {Strelitzia}

#♚ The Darkness has consumed us… {Alt V.} ♥︎

#{Headcanons}

#☁︎ Where there's rain; there's a storm {Rain}

#🌸As Pretty as a Flower but twice as Dangerous {Song}

#✴︎ May the Tears of Heaven hear my call... {Sterling}

#❅ Her Colours are a reflection of who she is {Aurora}

#✵ Hear my prayer O'Morning Star {Ivory}

#♾You'll never hear their name on the wind... {No Name}

#⚡️The Eye of the Storm {Tempest}

#✑ You write down your feelings on paper {Memoire}

#☆⭒ A Light in the Dark... {Roxas/aftrliight}

#👁‍🗨 It's a heavy burden to carry... {Luxu}

#♥︎ He has every right to be mad at me; but i had to do it {Roxas/caelumobscura}

#♥︎ Twilight and Dawn... What an interesting combination {X Roxas}

#☘︎Oh Look- Nope it's just them... {Dani}

#♣︎ There's just something about him that i hate... and i love {X Riku}

#✎ You remember me; the way I remember you {X Roxas}

#☆⭒ He gives me the courage I need; she is always so kind... {X Roxas}

#☆⭒ Let's go to the garden... {Lauriam/lordofoblivion}

#✘ There is always something worth fighting for... {Kohaku}

#♡ No longer just a Copy... {Repliku/Kouki}

#⚙︎Just because I'm not a 'True' Keyblade doesn't mean I can't kill you {Void}

#♥︎ You and I; were intertwined from the start... {X Kairi}

#♡ These will make anyone laugh! {Memes}

#✬ Here to help! {Chirithy}

#🌼You'll never learn from your mistakes if you don't make them {Ayaka/Roxas' mom}

#♔♡ The Mark of a Master~ {P R O M O}

#✿ Thinking of you wherever you are... {Hana/Sora's Mom}

#♤☆ When the Light embraced the Dark... {Mending Hearts V.} ★♠

#✎ He wants to break the mold {Roxas/serendimpetus}

#🗝🖤The Kingdom's Protector and the Original Blade {Chi}

#♔ Mirrored Reflections; Two in the Same {Twin V.} ♡

#★ I'll be there to hide your light when you need it {Dusk}

#♻︎ I'm not even the real thing...And yet in my soul it says otherwise {Soul}

#✩*~ I'll unlock the mysteries of the world {Ephemer}

#♠︎ Made completely out of Darkness {Vanitas}

#✩*~ We'll meet where the darkness meets the light {X Vanitas}

#➳ Skateboard tricks and Sea Salt Icecream... {X Roxas}

#♡ Let's line up the pieces... Together {Main V.} ♔

#❁ He'll always be my little Sprout... {Kasumi/Riku's mother}

#❁ To trust or not to trust is the question... {Xemnas/potestasaeterna}

#♘ He trusts me to look after everyone; but who's going to look after him? {X Master}

#♘ Always one step ahead... or two- or three {Master/masterxmasters}

#☾ The path between Night and Day... {Dawn}

#♡ A Watchful eye... {Dash Commentary}

#☯︎ Total Annihilation {Fuu}

#✎ Don't forget me... {Naminé}

#☄️ I will always rise up from the Ashes {Libra}

#🔥Better watch out because I always bounce back {Ember}

#💥I will burn Eternally {Flame}

#♕ Together we'll protect the world! {Kiki}

#♛ We'll free their hearts and consume the world in darkness... {Heart!Kiki}

#🍨Not just a sweet treat~ {Sweetie}

#♜ I'll protect you from the Shadows {Oblivion}

#♖ Just follow my Light {Oathkeeper}

#♥︎ No matter the Nightmare; I'll be there {X Ventus}

#♠︎ A little noisy... {Skitters/Flood}

#🎐When you feel it in your heart; you know that your home {Mitsuki/Kairi's Grandma}

#❁ He's my stubborn Rock. {Roxas/aftrliight}

#💥She rises with the moon {Luna/verumheart}

#♧ Even in your dreams... {Dream Eater V.} ♥︎

#🍡 Cheeky Cheel {Leche}

#❦ There's more to Light than meets the eye {Young Eraqus}

#❦ And that's checkmate I win; Hold on it's still my turn {X Young Xehanort}

#The Copycat Trio {Repliku; Vanitas and Xion}

#Created with a purpose {Vanitas}

#🐶Watch out for the Mad Dog~ {Mady}

#➸✮ Reliable and Sturdy as the Shield he carries {Aegis/verumrook}

#➸✮ I shouldn't feel this way but I do... And I don't want to stop {X Aegis}

#✘ ...I will protect his light with my life... {Artemis/keyfamilia}

#✘ I don't know what he sees in me... but i'm grateful {X Artemis}

#🗝🖤A shroud of Mystery and Darkness {Master of Masters/eyesofparoxysm}

#🗝🖤The one who compliments me; who truly understands {X Master of Masters}

#✧ He's a good listener and a good friend {Luxu/gravitasfatum}

#✎ What did I do to deserve you...? {Riku/darkheartedprince}

#♔♡ It rests now within us all... {Drabble}

#💚As playful as a breeze; but as strong as a gale wind {Ventus}

#💫Not even the Night Sky could contain her Light... {Astraea}

#🍏A Bad Apple spoils the bunch {Negative Thoughts}

#☀︎ Set me ablaze; start a fire in me {X Terra}

#☀︎ He's my pillar when I'm not strong {Terra/willfulfwayfarer}

#🎐Just like the Stars; He will burn long after... {Yen Sid/omnipotentmxster}

#☀︎ Never expected to fall for a flower {X Marluxia}

#☀︎ Every Flower has it's thorns and he's full of them {Marluxia/lordofoblivion}

#✿ My Little Sparrow {Sora/lightheartedwarrior}

#❁ My Little Sprout {Riku/darkheartedprince}

#🎐If we keep each other in our hearts; we'll always be strong {Young Mitsuki}

#🎐The Stars align when he smiles... {Young Yen Sid/omnipotentmxster}

#⚚ I'm sending a message to you and I hope that it makes it through {Hermod}

#⭑ He could light the sky with his colours {Sora/valorxdrive}

#⭑ He's my knight and I'm his princess {X Sora}

#⭑ We both just wanted a friend... {Blaine/virusplanted}

#⭑ The future may be uncertain; but I'm certain of us {X Blaine}

#🧶Tying the knot {Married V.}

#♔ In another World; another Time or another Place {AU V.} ♡

#⚖︎She moves with the beauty and grace of her namesake {Aqua/theheartstreasure}

#⚖︎I certainly don't know what I did to deserve you; but i'm grateful {X Aqua}

#⌁ The only one I'll always trust {Ava/starshold}

#❀ Careful the Flowers have ears {Foxglove}

#☆⭒ He's my bookworm... {Blaine/virusplanted}

#☆⭒ One day I saw him there and couldn't help but gravitate towards him {X Blaine}

#♔ A World without Magic... {Modern V.} ♡

#🎐An old friend and fellow Master {Eraqus/eraqus-the-defender}

#❦ I wish I was enough to keep you from the Darkness... {Young Xehanort/iuvienis}

#🌕A place where all hearts are one... {Kingdom Hearts}

#🔮The Mistress of Darkness {Maleficent}

#🐚Overcame the Impossible {Maryllis/Kairi's Mother}

#🌊I will do my duty to protect the people {Nalani/Destiny Islands Mayor}

#🥀Poison runs through their veins {Vera}

#✩*~ He's the smartest guy I know {Brain/virusplanted}

#✩*~ We'll always be connected; no matter where we fly too {X Brain}

#🐚His Majesty and My King {Ansem/afoolelopedindarkness}

#🐚Two halves of a whole {X Ansem The Wise}

#✩*~ Flowers can be strong so long as you let them {Lauriam/lordofoblivion}

#🐚My Precious Treasure {Kairi/thalassicradiance}

#🐚Like Mother like daughter {Maryllis and Kairi}

#🎶Listen to my Melody {Maestro}

#Before Summer Vacation is over; we should go to the beach! {Twilight Town Gang}

#♘ More important than he realizes {Kage/thechessboard}

#✩*~ I use to think Dandelions were just weeds; I think they're beautiful {X Lauriam}

#📓Don't always believe what you see... {Lexicon}

#🌹Strong and Elegant {Rose}

#⚠︎ Infuriating and yet... He's Mi Rosa {Lauriam/rxsoideae}

#✧ She's as strong as she is beautiful {Aqua/theheartstreasure}

#✧ She makes me feel like a princess; she gives me hope {X Aqua}

#✎ We will always have each other's backs {Naminé and Aiden}

#☆⭒ Wallflower friends {Luxu and Strelitzia}

#The Darkness gave us purpose... {Dark Repliku; Vanitas & Xionort}

#Let's go to the beach {Axel; Xion & Roxas}

#⚔︎Childhood rivals to lovers {X Hayner}

#⭑★ Fallen Hearts turn to Dark Stars… {Darkling V.} ❤︎♥︎

#⭑ ...Unknowingly My Protector... {Braig/freeshooterxig}

#🍀We're stronger than we look {X Kairi}

#♟He isn't all darkness... {Vanitas/unversedshadow}

#✧ My precious Snowflake Dandelion... {Theo/keytosolidarity}

#✎ She was my light; He was my knight {X Repliku}

[meiwroo]

Can you write something along the lines of Peter being super obsessive over the reader and he sneaks into her room and hides in her closet every day after school, constantly takes pictures of her and has Polaroid’s of her all over his room, she eventually talks to him in class and they agree to do a project together, she insists that they should do it at his place and she comes too early and sees the pictures in his room? ~ what happens after that is up to you ;) -🎱 (can this be my signature?)

Can you tell I didn’t edit this one as much? Also, I think I’m getting into the swing of things? Enjoy

Okay, so there’s one thing that bothers me. Whenever Peter sneaks into your room, he’s wearing his Spider-Man suit—enough to get caught in broad daylight scaling an apartment building by a bystander—or even worse a villain. Do you know how many villains could peep this and start coming after you?? Anyway

When it comes to you, Peter has a one-track mind.

It’s always ‘Do physics homework—Check the camera to see what Y/N is doing; Cook dinner—Check Y/N’s social media and see if she posted anything new.’ 24/7 until something urgent pops up that requires his undivided attention i.e. trying not to die

And the way Peter ends up in your closet is gradual.

At first he happened to swing by as you were on your way home, and he trailed you

Then he swung by when no one happened to be home. Curiosity got the best of him, and before he knew it, he was putting Karen on mute and sliding open your window before dropping down in your room

One thing he loves is that right off the bat your room smells like you

Staring at the knickknacks in your room, noting whether or not your room and desk is orderly, all of it gives him a better gauge of your personality that he’s not able to see when he’s listening to you and your friends talk during lunch or in class

And then it happens again and again, until one day, his Spidey senses start tingling and he can hear you unlocking the front door and heading up to your room. On the spur of the moment, he hid in your closet. Stupid, if you were the type of person to hang up your clothes as soon as you got home. But for hours until you finally fell asleep, he was forced to sit in your cramped closet watching you in your natural habitat. It was truly a wonderful experience…

It made him feel stupid for not thinking of it before. So, every now and then he would treat himself into sneaking into your room. On particular days where he hardly saw you because you either called in sick, ditched class, or had a field trip with another class.

If you were already home, he’d wait and sneak in when you left the room, or if he was feeling particularly brazen, when you had your back turned and earphones in listening to your music at full blast, he would just slide your window open, climb on the ceiling, and gently sneak into your closet.

If you ever wonder where the sudden breeze came from, that’s Peter.

And it continues until every day after school, Peter beats you home by minutes, sneaking into your closet, getting his daily dose of you.

He’s gotten himself a routine, where he would accomplish all of his work at school before the final bell, head to your place and make himself comfortable on your closet floor, leave when you go to grab dinner and go eat dinner himself with May, and then head out for patrols, before coming back home to catch a bit of shut eye

That’s what? Only like 3-4 hours he gets to spend with you every day? Regardless it’s not enough

Peter does record you though. At first through his phone, and then through surveillance cameras he’s placed around your room; One in the smoke detector and then a listening bug in your light switch

It would be small minor things like you talking to yourself, telling yourself a joke, humming to yourself while you browsed the web, watching you rage quit at video games, and even watching you struggle with homework which frustrates Peter to no end.

Listening to you get upset over not being able to solve a problem makes him want to tear his hair out. If he could just pluck the pencil from your hand right quick and show you how it’s done…All he needed was a minute

Another thing that also irked him? You losing points on homework because you left a section blank or didn’t turn it in at all. During those times, Peter just wishes he could turn homework in on your behalf and not get caught. He’d do it in a heartbeat if teachers couldn’t recognize your handwriting and the assignment had no way of getting back to you

When it’s late, and he’s all snuggled in bed, Peter likes to watch the videos and fantasize about would it would be like if he was next to you. How you two would interact, and etc. He feels closer to you whenever he does this.

Sometimes he likes to fall asleep to the sound of your shallow breathing when you’re asleep

Every now and then Peter likes to ease into bed beside you after hard fights that leave him bruised and exhausted

It’s easy to pick your habits and routines like this. eating habits, bathroom habits, what music you tend to steer towards, what content you like to watch the most on the internet; All of your likes and dislikes, favorite food, color, drink, what’s on your wish list right, what’s even got you stressed right—which breaks his heart because he’s not sure what he can do to help

But Peter has this collection, right?  Of odd pictures that he snaps of you every chance he gets.

He has a collage of them—11 or so—on the wall against his bed. Easy to hide with a perfectly propped pillow if May were to ever walk in his room while he’s away. He hangs the ones that are both artistic and articulates your personality the best. It’s his little masterpiece. 

Let’s say he gets beaten up too badly in a fight and he’s forced to stay home while you recover. Those pictures keep him going

But then there’s the scrapbook Peter has (in his desk drawer). Tons of Polaroid snaps—dated and describing what you’re doing—in addition to nonsensical diary entries beside them about how you made him feel in that moment or what he’d love to do to you, or maybe even a little poem

It’s mainly filled with fun memories Peter wasn’t really a part of. Pictures of you hugging your best friend and goofing off during a field trip, you winning a small award and going on stage to receive it, you participating in extracurriculars e.g. track and field

And then there are the nonsensical ones like your face before you’re about to devour your favorite food, or your aloof expression while you sit outside during study hall, or your deeply focused expression while you cram in gym class before a test you have next period. 

In general, Peter takes a lot of pictures of you; And they’re everywhere. All you have to do is look closely and you’ll find a photo under his desk by the foot of his chair, or a more risqué one poking out from under his nightstand—even phots sprinkled between the pile of dirty laundry he’s been throwing in the corner

It’d honestly be bad if May ever decided to spontaneously do spring cleaning in his room

It’d be bad if you came across these photos which—spoiler: you do.

Everything was going great with Peter watching from afar, and then you had to go and talk with him

Don’t get me wrong, Peter was so happy he thought he would puke.

It had been in APES, and the class was doing a lab. Your friend who takes the class with you and had called in sick, so you decided to partner up with Peter, I mean he did sit directly to the left of you

His heart stopped, of course, he was praising the heavens that his voice didn’t crack, everything was great. His day was blessed, and he actually spent time talking with you which rolled smoothly between you to.

There was a report due on Monday, so you two decided y’all would both knock it out today after school at his place. 

Big, fucking, mistake.

Peter was so high on cloud nine, that he forgot about his little hobby littered around his room—the same room which you two planned to do the assignment in since May had her weird project occupying the majority of the surfaces in the living room which she explicitly told him not to move

It didn’t dawn on him until you asked to use his bathroom, and he walked into his room. 

He picked up a shirt, sniffed, and was ready to toss it into the hamper until two photos fluttered out.

And then magically he realizes that he had his scrapbook out with the recently developed 6-7 photos scattered on his desk.

He heard you exit the bathroom and his heart stops.

“Peter, you in here?”

His eyes dart between the door and the scrapbook comically

He could’ve webbed the door shut, climbed out the window, and then crawl in through the bathroom and say something like he needed to go retrieve something from May’s room—which he should’ve did, but instead there you are smiling at him in the doorway casually greeting him before your eyes flicker to all of the Polaroid's and decide to pick one up

“Y/N wait!”

Your brain takes a full minute to fully process what you’re seeing

Let’s say it’s a picture of you changing in your bedroom

When you look Peter in the eyes and see his panicked expression, it tells you everything you need to know.

You should’ve left after the first picture, but you needed to confirm, so you started picking up the nearest pictures, shuffling through them.

You grabbing coffee with MJ, you going shopping with your mom, you trying on dresses and browsing in a local department store, even you propped lazily against your friend’s car while you wait for them to lock their front door.

“Where did you get these?!”

“I—I can explain!”

You try to make a run for it, but Parker’s quicker than you, stronger than you; He pins you against the wall easily, both of your wrists clasped tightly in one hand.

He’s breathing heavily as though a panic attack was soon about to set in

“I can explain…” is all he says, staring into your eyes wildly

Feedback?

[a-butterfly-on-his-tummy]

Lifelong Calling

Resting his head on the steering wheel, Harry releases a sigh. Today was frustrating in every shape and form. Spending the last ten hours in the studio was a waste of time because he couldn’t create a single phrase that would work for his third album.

“This isn’t working.” Harry growls, the frustration wafting off his body like the steam from the water in a hot tub.

“Relax, H; it’s been awhile. Maybe you should try playing the guitar? Might help it flow more.” Mitch unwraps the strap from around his shoulders, handing the instrument to Harry.

“I don’t think it’s any use if I’m honest. This isn’t working; I’m tired. We’ve been here awhile.” Harry looks down at his phone, noticing a message from you that includes a picture. Unlocking his mobile, Harry’s eyes well up with tears at the picture of his sleeping baby girl. Grace is now four weeks old, and Harry’s heart aches to hold her, kiss her, sing her to sleep.

“Grace asleep?” Mitch asks, pulling Harry out of the trance he was in.

“Um, looks like it. First night in her crib. Moved her to her own room last night.” Harry pauses before running his hands through his hair. “Can we try again tomorrow? I’m tired and honestly miffed about the whole day. Thought it would be easier I guess.” Harry shrugs before picking up the leather bag on the floor. Placing it on the couch, he begins to pack up his gear.

“Understandable, man; it’s not easy to come back to work. You’ve had some major life changes.” Mitch comments.

“Yea. But this is my thing. My calling in life. I was made for this.” His voice is somber, and Mitch gets the vibe that Harry is feeling his magic talent has disappeared.

“It will come back. Just got to find some inspiration.” Mitch claps his hand on Harry’s shoulder, bringing him in close, hugging his friend tightly. “Go give that baby a snuggle. Recharge. I’ll see you in the morning.”

Grabbing the bag off the passenger seat, Harry pockets the keys and exits the car. His feet drag heavily as he makes his way through the garage and into the house.

“Babe?” Harry asks softy, noticing the lights are off. He doesn’t call again, thinking you are probably already in bed. Typically if Grace is asleep during later hours, so are you.

In the kitchen, Harry places the leather bag on the table, leaving its contents for the morning. Slipping off his tan Gucci loafers and stripping his coat, Harry pads across the wooden floor towards the stairs.

The carpet feels soft under his feet as he climbs the stairs, hoping he can slide in bed and fall right to sleep. Running his hands over his face, he lands on the top step.

A small light is coming from his daughter’s room, pulling Harry’s attention and thoughts towards Grace. Her door is open, and Harry quietly pads into her room. Leaning over the side of the white crib, Harry runs his finger down her chunky cheek as soft puffs of air leave her lips.

Stripping off his navy cardigan, Harry moves to pick up his baby. The pull towards Grace is strong as if she is a magnet and Harry is a piece of metal. Knowing the risks of lifting a sleeping newborn, he decides it's worth it.

Grace stretches her body as Harry lifts her from the crib; he places her on his shoulder, adjusting the floral nightgown to cover her tiny piggies. He grabs the blanket, placing it over the  top of her small body. Grace begins to startle, making small noises that are like a warning to Harry that she is going to wail soon.

“Shhh. Daddy’s got ya.” He says, swaying her back and forth. “Missed you today, Bug. Did you miss me?” Harry whispers softly to the baby who squirms against his chest. “Go back to sleep, love. Daddy’s here.” Kissing her forehead, Grace’s grunts and moans begin to subside.

Sitting down in the rocking chair, Harry pushes them back and forth, helping Grace to calm down even more, settling her body into his. Her mouth drops opens softly and her breathing begins to slow down and her feet rub softly together just like yours do, tickling Harry’s chest.

“Couldn’t write today.” He whispers softly to Grace, but mostly just to get the frustration from the day out in the open and off his chest. “It’s not like me.” He pauses, allowing his brain to think about today and what was going on.

“I wonder if this is a sign. Maybe being an artist isn’t my true calling? It shouldn’t be this hard. Uncle Mitch told me I need to look for some inspiration, but what if I can’t find any?” The doubts of his career begin to sink in and his heart begins to fall. He loves his job and feels extremely blessed for the success he has had. But what if his time has passed and he is done?

Grace turns her head towards Harry, allowing his eyes access to her face. His heart melts as he looks at her soft baby features. “The first time I held you in my arms was full of magic, and I felt an explosion of love for you.” His hand runs his thumb across her cheek. “Baby, my baby. Oh how you’ve changed our world.” He begins to sing. Words to a song that doesn’t exist. Harry is writing a song, holding his inspiration in his arms. “My heart is wrapped around yours, tighter than your curls are curled.”

The words continue to flow out of his mouth, creating a song that is sweet and soft. “You did it, Bug. You helped me find my inspiration.” Kissing her temple, Harry rests his head on top of hers. Rocking them slowly back and forth. As Harry closes his eyes, he realizes being an artist isn’t his true calling, but being a parent is.

You reach over to turn out the lamp light before going to sleep. The soft singing and elucidating words had stopped coming from the baby monitor, but Harry has not come to bed. Deciding to check on them before you sleep, you stand and make your way to your daughter’s room across the hall.

The sight that is before you is unlike any other. Harry’s head rests gently against the newborn’s. She snuggles on his shoulder peacefully and content. The crease between Harry’s eyebrow has been smoothed out, and his body is relaxed. This is what he was made for. Yes he could charm a crowd with a flash of a smile and sell millions of albums in moments. But being a daddy to Grace is something nobody else can do. Your heart warms as you walk over, leaving a small kiss on the foreheads of your loves who stay asleep, content in having each other forever.

[chelleaslin]

Adrinette April Day 1- Just Friends

@adrinetteapril

Marinette hung her head as she quickly zipped down the school hallway. Posters of the Valentine’s Day couple dance were plastered on every surface and every student was talking about it. She didn’t have anything against the dance, she thought it was a lovely idea, she was just very, very single.

The bell rung, echoing around the school ground, drowning out the students excited chatter temporarily. Marinette sighed in relief, she’d have a break from the torture while class was on. With a slight spring to her step, Marinette opened the door to her home group, stepping inside.

“So, what do you say, Adrikins?” Chloe’s abnoxious baby-talk voice loudly asked. “Pick me up at 7 for the sweethearts dance?” The blonde girl was hanging of Adrien’s side, her arms tightly wrapped around his neck.

Marinette felt her blood run cold in shock, was Adrien really going to the dance with Chloe of all people.

“Ah, Sorry, Chloe but we’re not going to the dance together, remember?” Adrien awkwardly replied, desperately trying to shake her off. He eventually unlatched her arms, gently but swiftly, creating distance between the two.

“But, Adrikin, of course we are! We’re the most popular kids in school, we’re a power couple. We have to make an appearance together.” Marinette grinded her teeth together. She was getting very annoyed at Chloe’s persistent nagging, any normal person could tell how uncomfortable Adrien was feeling.

“We’re not a couple, Chloe. Please stop saying that. I’m sorry, but I’m not going to the dance with you.” Adrien curtly spoke, with that he straighten out his tablet and faced the front of the room, ending the conversation. Multiple snickers were heard around the room, as Chloe stomped her feet in anger, marching back to her seat with Sabrina hot on her heels.

Marinette smiled, relieved that Adrien still didn’t have a date, dispite the fact that she knew she didn’t have the courage to ask him herself.

“Marinette!” A familiar voice called, Marinette, turned her head to her desk to see that her best friend, Alya, was already there. The beautiful, thick haired girl had a slight smirk on her full lips, no doubt from Chloe’s antics.

Marinette gave her a small wave as she walked toward her desk. Her heart started to thump loudly in her chest as she walk past Adrien’s desk, she had to do this almost daily for the past two years but she still couldn’t help the way she lost all focus around him, he was her weakness.

“Morning, Marinette!” He greeted a bright smile on his face.

Marinette jumped, shocked that he started talking to her, let alone bless her with one of his award winning smiles. The poor dark, haired girl jumped so suddenly that she missed the next step and tripped right over, directly in front of Adrien!

“Classic Dupin-Cheng.” Chloe snickered, a roar of laughter was hear from around the class room. A heavily blush stained Marinette’s cheek as she died of embarrassment. She heard the sound of a chair scrapping and a slight under the breath cuss.

“Shit.”

A presences was felt besides her before two arms wrapped around her waist and lifted her back onto her feet. A grateful smile stretched across her lips, she turned around once her footing was steady, ready to express her gratitude.

“Thanks for that-“ She started to say untill she realised Adrien was the one who helped her up. Her brain completely short circuited and her mouth froze up.

“It’s no problem, Marinette.” He smiled, “are you okay?” He face was filled was so much concern that a Marinette felt compelled to ask him if he was okay.nShe tried to speak but nothing came out, she looked down briefly and noticed his hands were still ever so slightly hovering around her waist, most likely as a precaution in case she slipped again. Unfortunately for Marinette that just made her weak at the knees.

“Argh!” She screamed as she felt back again. Adrien’s eyes widen as she slipped right out of he gasp. Marinette squeezed her eyes shut waiting for impact but it never came. She felt strong arms catch her under her armpits, holding her inches above the ground. She peaked her eyes open to see an angel smiling down at her.

“Aren’t you luckily?” Alya laughed as she pulled Marinette back up. “Thanks for your help, Adrien, but I’ve got her from here.”

Adrien gave them a small smile as he nodded. The three of them settled into their respective seats.

“Okay class settle down, lesson’s are starting now.” Miss Bustier annouced as she walked through the door, setting her laptop down on her desk.

“Girl, we need to work on your confidence levels.” Alya whispered as she unlocked her tablet.

“My confidence isn’t the problem, it’s my brains inability to function around him.” She groaned as quietly as possible. Alya gave her a soft smile before focusing on the board as Miss Bustier begain to write, Marinette followed suit.

...

“Okay, class. I’ll see you all after break, have a wonderful time.” Miss Bustier loudly called out over the sound of chattering students.

Most of the class were already out the door, eager to relax and eat. There were small clusters of classmates still packing up and talking among themselves, there’s included.

Nino and Adrien were chatting quietly among themselves, swapping schedules, trying to organise time to catch up. Alya and Marinette we’re behind them, discussing the dance.

“Just ask him.” Alya urged as she carefully placed her tablet in her bag.

“I can’t just ask him! Look at how he rejected Chloe!” She hissed throwing her arms around in exaggeration. Adrien caught the movement from the corner of his eye, briefly glancing at his pigtailed classmate curiously. She, of course, noticed his minor movent and blushed heavily, waving at him awkwardly. He have her a soft smile and waved back, turning his full attention back to his best friend as Nino asked him a question.

“Yeah, but she’s Chloe and even Adrien can’t stand her. Look, Adrien likes you, even if it isn’t the way you want right now. The only way something romantic will come out of this, is if you start spending more time together.”

Marinette nodded in defeat, she couldn’t argue with Alya normally, expecially when she had a good point.

“You’re right, I’ll start putting more effort into getting to know him.” Marinette sighed, swinging her backpack on her back.

“Awesome.” Alya laughed, adjusting her straps on her shoulders. “I’m glad you’re on board.”

“Wait, on board with what?”

“Hey, Adrien.” Alya called out. The blonde boy jumped slightly, whipping his head around to face the girl’s.

“Yeah?”

“You going to the sweetheart dance?”

“Ah, no actually.” He muttered awkwardly. “It’s a couples dance and I’m single.” He scratched the back of his neck, a nervous tick of his. Marinette watched the way his toned arms flex, she had to physically stop herself from drooling.

“That’s great new!” Alya cheered, her cunning, Fox-like grin present on her lips. The three other teens gave her a mixture of looks between confusion, disbelief and worry.

“Ah, it is? I wouldn’t exactly count it as a good thing.” He mumbled quietly, trailing off towards the end but Marinette heard him. She also spotted the look of pain in his eyes, her curiousity was sparked.

“Yes,I was hopping you’d double date with us!” She clapped, gesturing between Nino and herself.

“Who else?” He asked curiously.

“Well, Marinette of course!” She said like it was obvious. By the look of surprise on Adrien’s face it was anything but obvious. Marinette started to flail around, what the heck, Alya? She not only threw Marinette under the bus, but she was the one driving it back and forth over her mangled corpse.

“Um, I’m not ah, sure.” Adrien started to stutter, avoiding eye contact with both girls. “I don’t, Marinette, not like that-“

Marinette wanted to run all the way home right now and never show her face again.

“Come on!” Alya slyly drawled out as she placed her hand on Marinette shoulder. “You’re both single individual that want to go to this event, why not escort eachother?” Marinette felt like an item up for sale, unfortunately, Alya, wasnt the best salesperson.

Adrien’s worried face suddenly straighten out, his frown now curve upwards in a small smile.

“Oh. You mean as just friends!” He laughed in what Marinette could only identify as relief and man, did that hurt.

“Haha yeah friends of course, just two pal, buddies hanging out at a...couples dance.” Marinette awkwardly sighed, glumly trailing off towards the end. Nino and Alya both send her looks of pity, of course, poor babbling Marinette.

Marinette was sick of being clumsy, she was sick of being tongue tied, she was sick of being friend zoned! Alya was right! She needed to make a move or Adrien would never know how she feels.

“Okay. Well I’ll text you so we can sort out the details and-“

“Actually Adrien,” she found herself interrupting him. “Like Alya said, we’re both single individuals and this is a couples dance, so I was hoping you’d be my date? rather than my friendly escort.” She couldn’t believe it! She did it. She asked Adrien Agreste out.

Her blue eyes flicked towards her other two friend, both their jaws comedically open in shock. Alya seemed to snap out of her trance, her face lighting up in pure glee.

Marinette felt nervous as she peaked back at Adrien, she expected the worse. Instead of a look or sorrow or guilt, Adrien’s face was bright pink as he blushed, a star struck look on his features. She waited a few seconds but his expression didn’t change.

“It doesn’t have to lead to anything, I was just hoping you’d give me a chance to show you who I really am and maybe, get to know you a little better too?” She blantely flirted with confidence she normally only felt behind a magical latex mask.

Adrien just nodded as his face darkened more.

“Oh god, yes.” He finally blurted out, His eyes widen in realisation. He quickly covered his mouth with his hands, he was completely horrified with his brief lack of filter. Marinette smirk, loving the reversal of rolls.

“Alright,” she smirked, leaning in closer to him, making him make an unintelligible noise. “Like you said, you’ll text me right?”

Adrien could only frantically nod as the other two tried very hard (and failed) not to snicker. Marinette feeling very cocky decided to lean in and give him a kiss on the cheek as she departed.

As soon as her pink lips made contact with his soft cheek, it was like a magical spell wore off. The clock striked midnight for Marinette and her magical illusion disapesred and she was awkward, stammering Marinette again.

She took one look at Adrien’s bright red, frazzled expression (something she did) and freaked out. She muttered her goodbyes before she jogged out the now empty classroom door. Although she was super shocked and embarrassed about her flirtatious attitude she felt an overwhelming sense of pride. If Adrien’s reaction had anything to go by it, she may have carried herself out of the friend zone. She walked home that break with a spring in her step and a massive grin on her cheeks. Until she realised this was only a lunch break and she’d have to face him again soon, then she panicked.

[aerialflight]

BTS fic recs (or: a continuation with less magic!aus but there still is some on this list)

It’s been around six months and I’m again sucked into the BTS fandom, mostly because of the BTS World album and game. Seriously, how they manage to spit out so many songs so fast is amazing. And you can thank my dad for getting me back into the fandom cause he is just as obsessed as I am about BTS, which I find hilarious and my mom long-suffering XD.

Anyway, so I’m recommending yet another list that has cumulated over the months, some recommended to me by @onceabluemoonwrites (thank you for the recs and continuing to spur my obsession) and those I stumbled upon and ended up loving. Hope you all enjoy and I apologize that there aren’t as many magic!aus in advance, but there still is some since it wouldn’t complete without it!

-

girls just want to have fun by fitzgarbage

Ship: Suga/J-Hope

“Namjoon told me you’d probably be haunting a corner. I didn’t know what he meant, but I think I get it now.” He’s breathing hard. “I knew you right away. You look really good, by the way.”

(suga is transgender, he's a she in this fic. suga is amazing and the background ships had me invested and oh man, this is one of those fics that steal your heart if you let it.)

Stars Lost in the Sea by smiles

Ship: Jin/Suga

2018 In a desperate attempt to overcome his writer's block, Kim Seokjin rents a cottage by the sea on a remote island in the southern part of Korea for the summer, intent on successfully completing a story.

1933 Min Yoongi spends his nights tending the lighthouse, providing a light on the horizon for lost sailors to navigate safely, all the while feeling lost by himself, a lightkeeper without a guiding light.

There are some people who are meant to cross paths, even if it means time itself must bend to accommodate them.

(editor!Jimin is high strung and gungho and this alone made me fall for this fic for giving me this. this story is the definition of ‘star-crossed lovers’, i was rooting for them so hard. bless.)

rumour has it (but maybe it'd be better to just ask me) by Curionenene 

Ship: Jimin/RM

"Tae! I think Kim Namjoon asked me out on a date?”

That, makes Taehyung look away from his phone for once. “The Kim Namjoon? Sex on walking stilts, Kim Namjoon?”

“No, Kim Namjoon who’s my cousin third removed. Of course, the Kim Namjoon, you walnut.”

“Walnuts are actually really good for brain development.” Taehyung says distractedly before he frowns. “Wait, Kim Namjoon is your cousin?”

-

(Or: Namjoon and Jimin like each other, Taehyung and Hoseok are great friends, Seokjin and Jungkook aren't as great, and Yoongi is paid far too little for this.

Oh, and there are rumours. Supposedly, Namjoon is a sex god. Everyone is saying it, so it must be true.

Spoilers: it's not.)

(you know those fics that has gloriously disasterous characters that makes you feel like you’re less of a mess than they are? this is it. this is your pick up fic. so pick it up please.)

jack i'm flying! by ameliabedelias  

(honestly though, this author has written some of the funniest bts fics i’ve ever read, definitely recommend)

Ship: Jin/Jimin

“Are they okay?” A concerned booze cruise attendant walks by. “They’re not gonna jump, are they?”

“Please, just ignore them,” Hoseok sighs, flopping into one of the deck lounge chairs as Seokjin and Jimin get into position. “They’ve been doing this for three years now. It's kind of their thing.”

//

Or, five times Seokjin and Jimin do the Titanic Pose™.

(this fic is proof that this is the most chaotic pairing i’ve ever seen the sheer chaos man i’m not kidding. this is gold. solid gold.)

you are so gorgeous it makes me so mad by ameliabedelias  

Ship: Jimin/RM

Park Jimin is Instagram famous. Or he was, until Kim Namjoon walked into one of his pictures and stole the spotlight. 

(same author as previously, i just had to people this fic is incredible. jimin is characterized so beautifully here. the title alone should make you want to read it.)

light at the end by fruitily

(you don’t know what you were missing in life until you read their fics)

Ship: Jin/Jungkook

death follows jungkook. death is crashing at his place and not paying rent. death is eating all of his cinnamon toast crunch.

(seokjin is not death. he’s just the guy who’s nice enough to take you to the last stop.)

(i cried tears of laughter enough to fill a lake. jin is a grim reaper. yes. you heard me right. and jungkook has to deal with it. its amazing.)

in all dishonesty by fruitily

Ship: Suga/V

while taehyung is trying to figure out whether or not min yoongi wants to stab him with a fountain pen, they find out they make an excellent team when it comes to board games.

(this gave me so many flashbacks to when i was a kid. they are perfect for each other and my brother laughed so much when i read him a few lines. because he is a cheating cheater who lies and is very impressed by this pair. you'll see what i mean.)

can't get it up without you by Curionenene

(i love their fics. LOVE)

Ship: Jin/Suga

“Actually,” Seokjin speaks up then, because it looks like Yoongi's friends are having a hard time believing him. “I think the most dramatic one was when we literally tried to migrate to escape each other, but our planes went down, and we both drifted to the same deserted island.”

Now even Taehyung looks incredulous. “You're kidding.”

“No. We ended up fucking just so we could hasten the process and go onto the next life. Because the mosquitos there? Worse than death.”

“Wait…” Jimin says slowly. “You mean you actually die?”

~*~

(Or: Yoongi and Seokjin are soulmates. They hate each other.)

(the summary should be enough incentive to be honest, but yeah, if you want to die laughing, please read this. p l e a s e.)

So Collapse, Fall. by Curionenene

Ship: Jungkook/V

“Mmm… but what was it that made you decide to come back?” Seokjin rephrases.

Taehyung glances at Jungkook, and deliberately, his lips twitch up into a smirk, eyes darkening just a little bit. “I’m a human after all. Foolish. Figuring out my intentions shouldn’t be rocket science.”

For a moment, the other three in the room just stare at him. Taehyung doesn’t let the stares unnerve him, only deciding to cock his head to one side, eyebrow raised as the silence drags on. And then finally it breaks when Jimin shakes his head before letting out a true blue giggle, “well. He’s interesting at least.”

-

(or: Jungkook is a god, Taehyung just wants to be his friend. They both end up as something more.)

(i actually usually don't get into this pairing (surprising since this pairing is actually the most popular on ao3), but the worldbuilding and magic pulled me in.)(laugh and point at me for finding another magic fantasy fic. i won't blame you.)(i love v's characterization in this. he's delightfully complicated and straightforward and manipulative in a good way? i know it sounds weird, but you'll know what i mean when you read it.)

you say witch like it's a bad thing by Curionenene

Ship: Suga/Jin

“It's still a lot of work, even if you have magic on your side.” Yoongi glances over at a jug filled with what looks like pieces of pineapple. And then, as both cat and witch stare at the jug, the pieces are suddenly no more, instead replaced entirely by liquid. “Heck. Magic is draining. I’m going to need a nap later.”

“Why do you think I start at 5 am and only open at 11?” Seokjin grumbles, before he sighs, “yeah, okay. I get your point. No tea then. But we gotta think of something to make with avocados.”

“Why the fuck are we doing avocados?” “Because I ordered avocados.”

“Oh. Ok. Let me rephrase that: why the fuck are we doing avocados?”

~*~

(Or: Seokjin is a witch, Yoongi is his familiar. 99% of their life is bickering like this. The other 1%? Well, you'll have to read and see won't you?)

(blue recommended this to me and i read the whole damn thing. and let me tell you, it wasn’t the magic (well, not just the magic since the worldbuilding makes me want to swoon) that made me stay. it was jin. and his goddamn puns. puns galore. puns everywhere. every shade of pun imaginable, it’s all here. suffer with me along with yoongi. it is glorious.)

something tells me we'll be alright by czar (cmajorchords)

Ship: RM/V

“You’re absolutely right. This is a childish, petty feud, and I’m sure Kim Namjoon is an upstanding citizen and exceptional researcher. I’m sure he is a thousand times more of a professional than I am, and isn’t late to work all the time, and probably doesn’t occasionally sneak into the lab after hours so he can touch the pretty little vases with bare hands instead of using gloves –”

“Doesn’t what?”

“- it’s just that I don’t think I can work him. On, like, a moral level. Like an ethical one. An emotional one? Maybe even metaphysically?”

His supervisor sighs loudly. “So what’s the problem exactly?”

Taehyung scrambles for the first thing that comes to his mind. “Once, when we were at a mixer, he ate the last cranberry-chocolate chip muffin and didn’t even offer to split it.”

Six weeks in the desert at an archaeology dig sounds like everything Taehyung had ever dreamed of. Too bad Kim Namjoon's coming, too.

(this is a really cute fic and just, namjoon is this rambling mess and v is so humanely insecure and all of it is just, ugh. ugh i couldn't stop grinning.)

Fixing Christmas by jeoncrocs

Ship: Jungkook/RM

Namjoon is having the Worst Christmas Eve ever, and it's chiefly his own fault. A kind stranger turns it around.

(I COULDN’T STOP LAUGHING THIS WAS SO FUNNY XDD)

Hold Still by Oh_Hey_Tae

(i’ve recommended a fic from them before and there’s a reason for it. all their fics are just, yes.)

Ship: J-Hope/Jungkook

Jungkook’s going to say that he wasn’t scared, but he literally screamed and was about to throw down with a pan so he says instead, “How’d you get in, anyway?”

“Door was unlocked. Didn’t think anyone was home. Be glad I’m not an actual creep.”

And then this amazing thing happens.

It’s small and simple, quick as can be, but it leaves Jungkook stupefied, mind melting, like he’s lost on a wave.

Jung Hoseok winks at him.

Oh, no.

(Or: Jungkook falls in love easily, Hoseok doesn't open up easily, and somehow they manage to meet in the middle.)

(jungkook is precious here. precious. i want to wrap him up and hug him tight. and i really like how they portrayed hoseok here. and also, theres some representation and i connected to this. a lot.)

Words of Power by rkatz

Ship: Suga/J-Hope

All words have power. Some more than others. And none more than a name.

(behold, a magic!au soulmate fic with stellar worldbuilding. seriously, i am crying over how creative this is, i want to pick at this author’s mind and ask how they came up with this. thank you blue for recommending this!)

Law of the Jungle by MmeIrene

Ship: Jin/RM

“You’re an actor,” said Namjoon after a moment, and Seokjin nodded, looking pleased with their progress.

This was decidedly different, Namjoon thought, staring at Kim Seokjin’s bemused expression, than how it went in movies. Which, all things considered, was terribly ironic considering that Namjoon was being told he couldn’t study in his own library so that the aforementioned Kim Seokjin could film there with his movie crew.

Or, Namjoon is a frazzled grad student who just wants to finish his thesis, but somehow ends up getting cast as an extra in a movie instead.

(you know this is good when a character is accidentally in a movie. any student who wrote or is writing a thesis will understand namjoon’s dilemma on a spiritual level. he stole my heart in this fic, he really did. i don’t blame you one bit jin for falling for this boy.)

[flowerflamestars]

Ivy Moon: Part 1

Nesta Archeron had grave dirt under her nails.

This was a usual occurrence. As a death blessed witch in a family of talents, being called upon to speak to the newly dead was her most regular and least favorite job. But as any good witch would tell you, no dead needed to rise to speak.

And dead werewolves certainly didn’t reappear out of the sky and happy to be found.

Or naked as a full moon night.

Nesta winced at the thought and resolutely kept her eyes up, locked on a tawny shoulder she had to tilt her head to reach. The werewolf was thanking her again, unabashed at his nudity and smiling brightly.

“-I don’t even know where I was, so”-

“You were dead,” Nesta interrupted flatly, and this time he seemed to hear her. Beautiful green eyes with wolf amber bubbling up inside them met hers in confusion, somehow even prettier than the rest of him. Gods, this whole damned night was giving her a headache. “Or at least, your brothers thought you were.”

She was going to have words with Rhys when this was done. What the hell had he dragged her into this time?

The wolf in front of her was still staring, chest heaving for all that he had run out of words. It was a physical effort not to stare back, chiseled golden muscle moving tangibly close to her face. Stupid werewolf strength.

Nesta threw out a hand, pointing behind her impossible companion.

“That,” she said sharply, frustration bleeding into her tone, “is your grave. We never found your body, but Rhys filled a casket in case it allowed me to call your spirit.” A grave of oak and amber and jade, for a full-blooded wolf with a talent for magic. If he focused hard enough, Nesta wouldn’t have been surprised if he could still smell the sorrow of his brothers here.

Wide eyed, Cassian pivoted to see the headstone.

Nesta actually bit her lip at the muscled back and long, bare, sculpted stretch that put right in her sight. Fucking werewolves.

Quickly, hoping he was too distressed to scent her, Nesta stepped forward to stand beside him. The witching hour had come and gone, the forest that hid this burial ground still and quiet. Even the wind rustled oaks were silent, leaving her with nothing but the growing moon and a man who most definitely was not dead.

She could feel the warmth of his eyes on her again. “You were trying to call my spirit?” Cassian asked at a low rumble, not giving her space to reply. “You’re Feyre’s sister, aren’t you?”

Nesta nodded, before tilting her head back to gaze dimly at the trees. Cassian swore.

“Fuck,” He repeated, dark hair falling into his face as he reached for her crossed arms. Out of the corner of her eye, it was impossible not to note the moonlight gleaming over Cassian’s bare skin. “Nesta Archeron, please tell me I did not crawl out of that grave in front of you.”

To her horror, Nesta snorted a laugh before she could stop herself.

“You were never in the grave,” She said, “You’re not even dirty. I don’t know what the hell curse you’re under, but I guarantee it isn’t effecting your memory.”

She saw the interest flicker across his face, mouth twisting into a grin much more flirtatious than rueful. “You could look closer,” Cassian offered, “Who knows where grave dirt could hide. A witches touch reveals all truth, doesn’t it?”

No- no, that was it.

Nesta turned on her heel and began walking away without a word, the crisp crunch of leaves under her boots endlessly satisfying. She was cold and tired, and had nearly been struck by lightening. Lightening out of which had appeared the most gorgeous man she’d ever seen, naked and perfect and grinning at her like sin itself.

A gorgeous man who was, of course, the supposedly dead brother of the underworld mob boss her baby sister was shacking up with.

She was done. Done with the night and this freezing forest. She wanted a cup of coffee and some gods damned answers, both of which could be found at home.

Cassian caught up to her ground eating stride easily, moving with perfect grace in the dark. He seemed as unaffected by the low light as he was by his total nudity and the biting cold, content to silently lope by her side as Nesta stomped through the trees to her car.

It was only after the third time he reached out to catch her, righting Nesta’s stumble over something she couldn’t see that he broke the silence.

“Rhys and Az really think I’m dead?” Cassian asked, voice low as he gently tugged her upright.

Nesta didn’t particularly want to think about what kind of mess they were all in until she had more information. A curse that powerful, that undetectable? Something old and bloody made that magic.

But she couldn’t deny the brother’s sorrow had been real, a devastation that reverberated through the Archeron’s deep and true.  She’d come to the funeral, stood beside a white knuckled Azriel, ready to fight to world to bring his brother home.

She’d never met Cassian, but she was intimately acquainted with the hole his absence had left in his pack and her family.

“You went missing a month ago,” Nesta murmured, matching his tone. “I tried to track your magic, Elain scryed for you, but there was nothing. And then Rhys told us you were dead.”

They’re reached the edge of the forest, moonlight bright enough for Nesta to track the shaking hand Cassian raked through his hair. Dark curls sprang back with a levity that made her hands itch. So she found herself saying, voice stupidly soft, “I’m taking you to them, everyone’s out at our house.”

Cassian stopped walking.

Nesta was tugged to a stop too, the hand he’d used to steady her still wrapped securely around her wrist. When she opened her mouth and looked up to protest however, she found Cassian looking down at her, a softer twin of his initial smile on his lips.

“Sorry about earlier,” Cassian said. “I say really stupid things when I’m nervous, Az calls it fuckboy mode.”

It took physical effort not to smile back at that devastatingly handsome face. Nesta tilted her head instead. “Fuckboy sounds about right. Aren’t you a couple centuries too old to lack brain to mouth filter?”

He huffed a laugh. “Beautiful women bringing me back to life is a singular weakness.”

Nesta’s eyebrows went higher, unable to resist a smirk. “You were never dead.”

“I don’t know,” Cassian murmured, grin grown wide and crooked, “Pretty sure my heart stopped when I saw you, sweetheart.”

His grip was still a lovely, gentle pressure on her wrist. Nesta jerked it out of his grasp, she didn’t need him knowing how fast her heart was going. And if he didn’t know, she could perfectly well pretend it wasn't happening. Nesta wouldn’t be admitting to the burst of laughter his words dragged from her either.

Gravel crunched as she rocked back, away from the tangible heat of his body and toward the hedgerows that hid her car. Warm eyes followed her, gone wolf bright amber and gold between one blink and the next.

He followed her, eyebrows crinkling as she wrestled with the tie of her coat while she walked.  Finally, centuries since she’d seen it last, Nesta came to a stop in front of her car to shrug off her long green jacket. Keys fished out, she balled the garment and tossed it at Cassian.

He caught it easily, arm staying raised in confusion.

Nesta crossed her cold arms with huff. Gods, she couldn’t wait for coffee. “You’re not getting in my car like that.”

“What?” Cassian started, and stopped, her coat held out in front of him. “Oh god, I didn’t even think- we’re in the woods, and its close enough I can feel the moon.” He fumbled the fabric around his hips in haste, pointedly looking away from her. “I am so, so sorry if I made you uncomfortable.”

He sounded so horrified Nesta snapped back, “I am not uncomfortable.”

The flare of light as Nesta unlocked the car was enough for her to actually see the moment he breathed in her scent. Cassians head tilted in question, mortification slammed its way through her chest as his nostrils flared, catching the interest and attraction, the hint of arousal in the air with those wolves senses.

Fucking werewolves.

And then Cassian blushed.

Nesta wrenched her eyes away, and threw the car into reverse the second he’d settled inside. The road was dark and empty, she’d focus on that. She would not think about the color blooming on his olive cheeks, the half seconds gaze that left her sure that when Cassian flushed the color went down and down and down.

The radio crackled to life in static, the charmed car responding to her tension. Cassian reached to silence it before she could, wincing.

“Sorry,” He apologized again, as her fingers brushed over his arm in slower reflex. “Werewolf hearing.”

Nesta put her hand back on the steering wheel and resolutely did not think about acres of bare tawny skin. She had other problems to deal with, like what could be possibly be powerful enough to fool Rhys’ senses.

She hadn’t been happy to find out her sister was engaged to the man who watched over the east coasts supernatural underworld with an iron fist. In fact, she’d set a small forest fire before her temper was in check. It wasn’t just his work - of protection and acquisition, which he was damn good at- but her baby sister just had to go and fall in love with the only dhampir alive.

Amren had spent half an hour putting out the fire, because she couldn’t stop laughing long enough to focus.

Centuries old, with blood that was poison to vampires, magic that repulsed the fae, and bone that would once have been a witch relic, Rhysand was deadly. Born of a soul bond between a werewolf and a vampire, he had the instincts of a hunter- and he’d use every single one to destroy those who stood against his family.

Nesta was lucky enough to be counted among that small number.

It also helped her estimation of him that he loved Feyre like the world was ending.

Old, powerful, and ruthless as he was, he’d been sure his brother was dead and gone. What enemy was there that could actually fool him? And whose magic had she inadvertently broken through?

Like he couldn’t stand the swell of silence, like he knew what she was thinking, Cassian began to speak. “You said curse, earlier. Why do you think that’s what happened?”

Nesta shrugged. “You disappeared,” She ticked off the points on her finger, a list fully formed in her head. “Untraceable by magic, or scent. You have no memories of what happened, which is classic cursework. And you came back completely intact when whatever it was broke.”

Cassian tapped lightly at the foggy window, eyes flitting over her face. “I don’t know anything about death magic, so humor me. How do you know that you didn’t accidentally bring me back from the dead?”

Nesta sighed.

“Okay, first of all? I’m not a necromancer.” Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him nodding. “There hasn’t been one in at least a thousand years, and by all accounts they were never human to start with. Someone coming back,” She waved a frustrated hand in his direction, “In their original body, power and mind intact? It doesn’t happen.”

It couldn’t happen, and Nesta had been trying to explain this nuance since she was a teenager first sought out for her prodigious gifts.

“But you can speak to the dead?” Cassian asked. “Feyre explained it to us like Elain was good at life magic and you with the dead, with her skills somewhere in between. But I know it has to be more than that, because I tried to get sense of your power earlier- and honestly, I couldn’t tell where it started or ended.”

“Rude,” Nesta teased, before she could stop herself. That crooked smile was on Cassian’s face again, streetlights as they cut through town on the way to her families sprawling home painting him in hazy gold. Wolf eyes still gazed back at her.

“I’m death blessed,” She said, drumming her fingers on the steering wheel before she carefully continued. “I keep the dead and the dead keep me.”

A crack of laughter escaped Cassian, making her jump. The rich sound didn’t last long, but it was enough to raise the temperature in the car by several degrees. “Do you know wolves say that too?” Amusement tangled in his words, “You keep the pack and the pack keeps you.”

Oddly enough, that made her feel braver. “I’ve got one foot in life and one in the beyond. I can talk to the dead, but that also means I can kill almost anything. Makes cursework come easy, any kind of banishment or destruction really. I’m very, very good with fire.”

In the brief, surreal moment of stopping at a red light in the predawn hours, Cassian caught her gaze. “Of course you’re good with fire.” It was a low murmur she barely heard, but felt.

The car lurched forward, racing away from civilization and down onto the long road her grandmother had commissioned. Nesta kept speaking, unwilling to break the moment, but just as eager to hide away from it. “Elain has earth and wind, and Feyre water.”

“You’re a triumvirate,” Cassian breathed.

Something coiled against Nesta’s senses, warm as magic. Not fear, but awe. “That’s what our mother called us.” Death, Life, Creation. Their grandmother had older words for it- Crone, Maiden, Mother. Born not in the straightforward order of natural law, but in reverse, witches to practice magic not under the sun, but in the hidden and bright spaces of the night sky.

Thick trees and foggy hills rapidly gave way as Nesta drove recklessly fast toward the ordered wildness of Elains flower farm, wards a comforting hum as Nesta came to a stop beside a field of roses. Cassian followed her out of the car, stopping only when she reached for his hand.

“Sweetheart,” He drawled, and the dark, honeyed sound of his voice had her reaching for the magic faster, a quick flash of power slashing at both their palms. Nesta laced their fingers together so that blood raced with blood, and pulled Cassian forward. He let her, bleeding and curious, lead him into a veil of magic.

If Nesta didn’t know any better, she’d swear that blush was back on his cheeks.

You make him nervous, her brain murmured to her. The attraction was so absolute it felt like an enchantment itself, heady and out of control in her exhausted state.

Cassian let out a low whistle, looking around as though he could see the magic hanging thick in the air. “That’s some boundary spell.”

“It’s a ward,” Nesta corrected, “The first time one of us has to let you in personally, and then walk you all the way in of our own power.”

Cassian shook his head in something like respect and turned her hand in his, not relinquishing his hold when Nesta pulled back. Under the blood starting to dry tacky and dark, his palm was already healed. Amber eyes flitting to hers, Cassian pushed out a gentle thread of power, healing her in the space between heartbeats.

It would have been smart to step back.

This night was already too fraught and complicated to muddle further, but for a moment- for long minutes under the light of the waxing moon, Nesta let herself close her eyes and chase the feel of that power.

It came by increments, the sleek slide of sunny warmth against her senses. Cassian’s magic felt like the wildness of every full moon night, overlaid with the comforting safety of the sun on bare skin. Instinct and longing and power run free, tempered by a home that could never be lost.

She felt as he let her in further, wolves senses overtaking her own. How Cassian could smell the heady scent of Elain’s enchanted roses like a fog, how close his wolf was to surface, ready to lean against her side. Nesta felt how keenly Cassian sensed the touch her hand cupped in his, how some wild untamed part of him wanted to lick the blood from her palm to find her skin perfect and beautiful beneath it.

Nesta’s eyes snapped open with shiver.

This was not the time, and not the place- and- and this was Rhysand’s brother, for gods sake. This was a bad idea. But Nesta knew, shoving away the overwhelming feel of his magic, that she’d want to see more. Stupid, gorgeous werewolf.

Eyes with nothing human left in them were locked on her face.

Nesta straightened her spine. She was not doing this right now. “Ready for a family reunion?”

—

The second lightening struck and Cassian appeared, Nesta had decided not to warn anyone she was bringing him home.

To ensure they believed her and stop anyone from panicking, of course- not because she wanted a small, happy revenge for almost being killed by his magical reappearance, of course.

But Nesta had underestimated the sheer length of the walk across the estate to her families house. And how long she could stand the tangible temptation of a naked werewolf who kept blushing at her, somehow abashed and cocky all at once.

A werewolf who was looking at her from under a furrowed brow, eager to get back to his family and confused as to why they had stopped in a birch grove to make a phone call.

Amren answered on the second ring, voice just irritated enough to let Nesta know her friend was worried about her. “Please tell me baby werewolf had a very specific revenge plan to tell you, and that’s why you’ve been gone all night.”

“Not as such,” Nesta drawled, watching Cassian mouth baby werewolf indignantly. “Can you go steal a pair of pants from Rhys’ drawer in Feyre’s bedroom and meet me in the spell garden?’

Cassian waved hand in front of her before speaking, as though he didn’t want to be rude. “I’m taller than Rhys,” he said, “If Az is around, stealing the change of clothes he keeps in the trunk of his car would work better.”

“Is that?”- The strange wind noise that Nesta knew enough to assume was the sound of Amren moving at supernatural speed cut into her best friends words. “Nesta, what the burning hell? Am I hearing Rhysand Jr Jr?”

“My name is Cassian,” He growled back, Nesta an unnecessary intermediary between two shape shifters with super hearing. She jabbed him in the ribs before stepping away, not that it would help. He’d hear every word they both said.

“We’re by the birches,” Nesta muttered, drawing the the heel of her boot through the thick grass.

“Fuck,” Replied Amren, eloquently. “I’m on my way.”

Sliding her phone back into her pocket, Nesta turned to find Cassian leaning against a thin tree truck, hands brushing over the carved marks on a branch above his head. Luminously golden eyes flitted up to follow her movement, every line in of his body held a little too casual to be real.

“These aren’t magic,” He noted, the question plain.

Nesta crossed her arms with a huff. For so clearly wanting to get to his brothers, maybe he didn’t want to think about the circumstance either. “They’re practice, from when I was small,” She admitted. “I had to learn to burn the sigils without lighting the trees on fire.”

It was one of her clearest memories of grandmother, before Genevieve had passed, leaving the estate and it’s safe haven to her eldest granddaughter. A place where no one could touch Nesta if she didn’t want them, where plants bloomed at her passage instead of crumbling in death.

A place where the dead couldn’t speak to her and the living couldn’t harm her.

Cassian’s ever present smile was dancing over his features. “I heard you started a Siberian forest fire.”

It was like a challenge, her magic wanted to reach out at the sound of his voice. “You would too,” Nesta quipped, giving into the fire in her blood, “If your baby sister agreed to marry a dhampir she’d known for two weeks.”

If Cassian was surprised at fire bursting to life in the air, a hundred molten balls of light, he didn’t show it. He tilted his head back to see them waft through the air, grinning like the wolf he was. Sharp jawed and no less rugged for delight, he reached a hand out toward one, fingers skating close to flame before Nesta willed it away.

“You’ll get burnt,” She said, smirking.

The crushing beauty of his wolf bright gaze settled on her once again, taking in her face like she were magic too. A heat that had nothing to do with fire or power filled the air between them.

“I’d like,” Cassian said carefully, stepped away from the tree, “To see how close I can get.”

Nesta wondered if were he listening to her heartbeat. She could feel the pulse in her throat, the blush starting over her collar bones. As Cassian walked toward her, all unashamed hunters grace, Nesta wanted nothing more than to stride forward and meet him half way.

Until her best friends voice cut through the dark.

“Jesus fucking christ,” Amren swore, appearing from thin air. “How are you alive, wolf man?”

Cassian actually jumped, teeth bared, as a petite dark hair woman emerged to his left. He reined in the reaction fast enough to impress Nesta, face rueful as he caught the clothes Amren threw at him. “I know even less than you do, actually.”

“That, you’ll find, is always true.” Amren tsked, walking to Nesta’s side. “No go put on pants.”

Which a final look at Nesta, Cassian did as he was told and walked further into the grove. It took all of a breath for Amren to easily pull Nesta in the opposite direction, sniffing at the air for signs of injury.

“Are you okay?” She demanded, coming to a stop beside an ivy covered trellis. “What the hell happened out there?”

Nesta started pulling pins from her hair, exhaustion making her sag as she finally relaxed for the first time since she’d walked into that forest. “Have you ever heard of anyone appearing out of a lightening strike?”

Amren worried at a ring on her left hand, a confection of ruby and diamond someone with less keen eyes might assume was costume jewelry. Nesta had been present when Amren picked it up in payment from a Russian prince, part of the royal dowries worth of jewelry they’d been paid to break the curses on an old palace.

“Someone without a drop of fae blood?” She raised her eyebrows, disbelief such a perfect mirror of what Nesta had been feeling that she wanted to laugh. She’d been awake long enough now that she was starting to feel punchy with it.

“A curse,” Nesta said, what they were both thinking.

Amren hummed in agreement. “That explains why you both reek of hellebore.” She pointed an accusing finger, this one crowned with three overlapping golden rings, “It doesn’t explain why you smell like blood and lust and wolf. He’s a damn sight better than Rhysand, but I had no idea werewolves were your type after all.”

Nesta rolled her eyes, and waved her still bloody hand. “I had to key him into the wards,” she said, ignoring everything else.

“Mhmm,” Amren replied, her disbelief cut off by Cassian striding out of the trees to them, saving Nesta from her fate.

He walked around Amren to Nesta’s side like he belonged there, bare feet silent. Amren didn’t try to hide her snigger.

“Alright,” Nesta sighed, “Cassian the not dead brother, meet Amren, the other member of our family.”

Amren waited until Cassian had grasped her hand in greeting before flashing fully silver eyes, sharp smile going fanged. If she’d expected intimidation, what she got instead was the bright laugh Nesta was beginning to realize was very, very Cassian.

“You’re the dream dragon!” He burst out, unaffected by Amrens snarl at his words. Nesta tried and failed to hide a laugh behind her hand.

Her best friend huffed and began walking without them, grumbling. “You let one human see you in the eighties, and its all jokes.” Even in heels and with a much shorter stride, Nesta had to scramble to catch up.

“You should have eaten him,” Nesta told her, knowing Amren wasn’t truly offended as she linked an arm threw hers.

“I should have,” She agreed, and then turned her head to call back to the wolf following at Nesta’s heels. “You ever call me that again, baby wolf, and I’ll eat you too. Even canines taste good fire roasted.”

Nesta swore she heard Cassian laugh again.

Reckless, but some buried deep part of her quite liked the fearlessness. Cassian was no more afraid of Amren than he was of Nesta.

Together the three of them rejoined the long, winding gravel road that led to the heart of the estate. Neither shifter commented as they slowed their pace to match Nesta’s determined, but tired steps. Here, in her home, she could let herself be exhausted.

Past gardens that had provided generations with magical plants, beyond the glass greenhouses where Elain grew flowers from other worlds, through guardian oaks that lit with their passage from pools of alchemic moonlight Feyre had devised; Nesta led them home, her every step guarded by a wolf at her back.

—-

Azriel took one look at his younger brother- alive, breathing, wearing his stolen sweater and lupine grin- and silently collapsed like every string that held him together was cut. The breath that rattled from Cassian was audible even to Nesta before he sprang up the steps of the Archerons' porch, tackling his brother the rest of the way down to the wood floor.

The weathered boards groaned in protest, hiding from Nesta whatever Cassian was saying in a low voice.

Inaudible to her, but not to their older brother inside.

Rhysand slammed through the doorway like they were under attack, purple eyes wide. He froze at the sight before him for several heartbeats, a long, long time for someone with vampire reflexes.

And then, just like that, Rhys had thrown himself down to the floor too. All three brothers laughing and crying, a tangle of muscled limbs as they wrestled with one another. Scenting their pack- their small wolf family- alive and unharmed.

If Nesta allowed herself a sharp, happy smile before she turned to go around the house to the back door, Amren didn’t mention it.

—

Nesta Archeron was the most beautiful person Cassian had ever seen.

Feyre had crashed into his life like the little sister he’d never asked for, a vampire on her tail and a determination to do absolutely nothing about it, because the gallery show she was getting ready for was that much more important.

He’d seen her run out of gas and charm her car with an illegal, completely dark energy spell to get it going again.

He was protective of her and loved her, but looking at Nesta’s eyes, the exact same shade and shape, was something else entirely.

Cassian had been joking when he’d told Nesta his heart stopped when he saw her. But in reality, it seemed like a distinct possibility. If he were dead, or if this were a dream it would have made more sense- how absolutely fascinating the witch who’d found him in woods was.

Not just beautiful- though she was sharply gorgeous and so utterly perfect that he ached to touch her- but smart and strong, with clever eyes and magic that lit up his senses like a supernova. His wolf hadn’t ceased clawing to surface yet, so eager to cherish and protect.

This was not normal.

Cassian knew damn well what was happening, but he couldn’t let himself think the words. Not here in her kitchen, listening to her and her dragon friend debate what could have happened to him.

Not here with both his brothers, who could probably smell the emotion welling inside him. Azriel was already smirking, tracking the ever shrinking space between where Nesta sat, perched on a counter, and Cassian.

He was so, so fucked.

And lucky, he knew. Lucky beyond measure to have found a mate, the person his every cell was made for- to love, to protect, to care for. To a wolf like Cassian, it was the greatest stroke of fate imaginable.

But it was also a fucking disaster, because Nesta was a witch.

Cassian couldn’t imagine there was a good way to convey to anyone not a werewolf that he’d known all of ten hours and met standing naked on his own grave, that he’d love her until the day he died.

With a sigh that had Azriel grinning at him, light in his dark eyes that made Cassian want to get into the sort of brawl they hadn’t indulged in since they were teenagers, Cassian let himself casually drift until he was leaning no more than a foot from Nesta.

“What I don’t understand,” Nesta was saying, eyes narrow on Rhys, “Is why you were completely positive he was dead in the first place.”

That had the other Archeron sister Cassian had finally been able to meet looking up as well. “Yes,” Elain murmured airily, blonde brows high as she poured hot chocolate with the same intensity as Cassian might use in knife fight. “What exactly did you not tell us before you insisted my sister, summon a dead wolf under a nearly full moon, a week before Samhain?”

If Rhys were capable of coloring, he would have under the perfect censure of that tone.

Instead, he shot a weary glance at Azriel, who only dimpled back at him, the plea for help ignored. “The pack bond went dead. Cassian was gone.”

Purple eyes flitted over Cassian, love and concern in each warm breath he took. He couldn’t imagine what that would feel like- the bond of family and pack inside him as vital as his lungs or ribs.

Amren made a snickering, scathing noise into her glass of whiskey.

Gaping in her frustration, Nesta only shook her head, empty coffee cup clinking down next to her as she crossed her arms. “Are you kidding me?”

Slowly, hoping not to be noticed, Cassian plucked up her cup.

Nesta had been drinking cup after cup since they’d come into the house, seemingly untouched by the caffeine. It tangled in her scent- coffee and chocolate, blood on her skin- like something bittersweet he hadn’t known well enough to crave.

Silently, Cassian stepped away to refill it for her again. This kitchen, this whole place, was like a fairytale of witchcraft. Pale stone floors and aged beautiful wood, there was nowhere that didn’t reek of magic. It was all around them- blood wards on the building and land, plants blooming in the sisters wake, elemental charms and light spells and the sisters themselves; so powerful together in this place that made them that Cassian’s wolf was finally pushed down.

Halfway through stirring in the two sugars that Nesta preferred and Cassian had scented carefully to guess, Elain shoved a second cup into his free hand.

“Chocolate for life,” She said, cheerful and sharp all at once. “Welcome back to the land of the living, and to the family, Cassian.”

He stared first at the perfect swirl of whipped cream and then at her face, watching him carefully. Welcome to the family? Cassian knew one of Feyre’s sisters had a touch of foresight, but gods help him, he didn’t remember which one. “Thank you,” He settled on saying, taking a sip.

Dark, rich chocolate melted on his tongue as Elain’s face softened. She patted him on the shoulder. “We really are glad you’re not dead, you know.” Abruptly, she clapped her hands together, the sound lost in the rising tone of Rhys and Nesta’s argument. “Now, give me Nesta’s cup. If you really want to get on her good side, you need whipped cream.”

Blinking, he handed it over.

In Feyre’s stories, Elain was gentleness made manifest: baking cakes, making world renowned perfume, bringing Feyre back magic materials from her business trips to France. Cassian was learning fast that might be true for the much younger sister of the family, but to the rest of the world, Elain was just as terrifying as Nesta.

“Rhysand,” Nesta was snarling, as much a dragon as Cassian would have expected of Amren, “Just because you’re more than a wolf doesn’t change how curses fundamentally work.”

Elain handed Cassian back the mug with a sly smile before joining Azriel at the table.

“You’re giving us a list,” Nesta went on, jabbing a fire makers hand toward his brother. “Of every single person you’ve pissed off in at least the last century who might have a connection to Seelie magic.”

Cassian returned the cup to precisely where Nesta had set it down, unprepared for her to startle and meet his gaze. Wordlessly, he pressed it into her hand. Pale eyes still blazing, something softened around her mouth.

“Thank you,” Nesta said lightly. And then she smiled.

And Cassian was lost.

It was only a small smile, a quirk of full pink lips, but he’d caused it. Amren caught the look on his face, safe from Nesta’s gaze as she was busy glaring at Rhys over the rim of her coffee, and snorted so hard smoke and sparks came out into the air.

—

Some exhausting hours later, Azriel found Cassian watching the sunrise from the Archerons front porch.

“Amren owes me a hundred dollars,” His brother said in greeting, crossing his arms to lean beside Cassian. Before them, mist was rising through trees and grass, the dawn light silvered and pink.

Cassian raised his eyebrows in question. Azriels easy, knowing smile sliced across his face.

“She bet me if you two met, Nesta would sooner rip off your balls than ever bare her throat,” He said, bumping his shoulder into Cassian. “I guess neither of them know you’re not quite that sort of wolf. Yet.”

Cassian wasn’t proud of it, but he groaned.

“She made a joke, last night, about Rhys and Feyre getting engaged after two weeks. And they’re not even mates.” He shook his head, unruly curls falling in his face. Cassian raked them back with a growl.

“Oh, she’s going to eat you alive,” Azriel agreed, cheerfully.

“Fuck, I hope so,” Cassian said. “I had god damn wolf eyes the entire time I was alone with her, probably could have transformed right there without the moon at all.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair again, words a tide overflowing. “She smells like open skies and bloody, deadly magic and the best sex ever. I honestly want to listen to her talk about curses and magic and work for the next century, just so I can learn how her brain works.”

Azriel guffawed, the traitor, watching the moment Cassian’s thoughts caught up with his mouth and he gaped in horror.

“Elain got you good,” His older brother said, still laughing as he clapped Cassian on the shoulder. “Truth potion in the chocolate. Welcome to being vetted by the Archeron sisters, baby brother.”

Cassian threw off his hand with a huff.

“But really,” Az went on, visibly fighting his mirth, “Did you not notice you’d somehow managed to scent her on the way here?”

He opened his mouth to deny it, because he wasn’t that much a prick- he’d just met Nesta, it didn’t matter that she was it for him, he didn’t have any claim on her. But- in the woods, steadying her as she walked, catching her when she fell.

Her wrists, her elbow, even her neck as he’d pulled a leaf from her hair. Bright moon take him, Cassian had gone for her pulse points without even realizing it. It even made sense if he was thinking about it rationally.

From the moment he appeared, his wolf had been right on the surface. Cassian hadn’t been focused on anything but Nesta and safety, the moon intoxicating above them. Awareness of himself, of the rest of the world, hadn’t trickled back to him until they’re emerged from the trees.

Of course he’d made an utter ass of himself.

Light streaked across fields and hills, birds beginning to break up the silence. He could smell the disarming sweetness of enchanted flowers in the distance, blood and salt for the power on the land. But also something that he wanted to just call wildness- elemental magic, harnessed by witches with old blood who belonged to a wolf pack, guarded by a dragon.

This whole place was a dream made real, and Cassian wanted terribly to belong to it.

Cassian’s face must have been pitiable. “I bet Amren,” Azriel told him, smug even in his reassurance, “That the two of you would get along like a house on fire.”

@bon-bon-salvatore @strangeenemy @sannelovesreading @maddieimhot @ladyvanserra @rhysand-darling @empress-ofbloodshed @highfaenesta @marianaftm @illyrianinterrasen @tntwme @the-smoldering-illyrian-beauty @jahelyden @sjmasstrash @rairrai @rhysanoodle @a-trifling-matter @eastside-divebar @happy-smiling-things @missanniewhimsy @abillionlittlepieces @poisonous00 @macomafastraash @sunsummoner @vampwitchel @symwinter @acotarfanfic @rapunzel1523 @the-regal-warrior @wolffrising @tswaney17 @they-call-me-cuatro @queenofillea1 @neverlandoftimespacefuckery

[alphacrone]

country singer bitty accidentally writes a hit about nhl player jack

Based on this post about the inspiration for Dolly Parton’s Jolene, which is somehow even gayer than the song itself. Bless you, Dolly.

It had started out so innocently.

Bitty had been tired after hours of this meet n’ greet, and when that tall drink of water walked up to get his autograph, Bitty couldn’t help the words that tumbled out of his mouth.

“Gosh, well aren’t you the most handsome fella I’ve ever seen,” he said, reached for the outstretched CD--CD! Who even bought CDs anymore?--and readied his Sharpie. “What’s your name, hun?”

“Uh, Jack,” the man said, pretty eyes going wide. If he’d been more awake, Bitty might’ve felt bad for making a fan uncomfortable. But if this Jack really were a fan, then he certainly wouldn’t have a problem with another man complimenting him. And besides, he was handsome, with his wide shoulders and high cheekbones and eyes as blue as the summer sky.

“Jack,” Bitty repeated, signing the CD with little flourish. “Jack. That’s a nice name. Jack. Jack. That sounds like it should be a song, like a good, ol’ fashioned folk song or something. Blue-eyed Jack. Jack with the blue eyes.” He chuckled at his own Beyoncé joke, fatigue weighing heavily on his shoulders. “Here you go,” he said, handing Jack the autographed CD case and smiling widely at him. “Have a great day, Blue-Eyed Jack.”

“Thanks,” Jack said, giving him a shy grin. “You, too.”

Bitty sighed as he turned and left, watching a little too intently as he walked away. So it wasn’t just his face that was beautiful. Bitty would leave that out of the song.

The next fan stepped up, a preteen girl with a bad case of brace-face, and Bitty greeted her with a tired smile, all thought of Jack gone from his mind.

  Despite his fatigue, Bitty couldn’t sleep that night. He rarely could on roadies. It wasn’t the proximity to his band that was the problem--Bitty found the sounds of Chowder snoring to be comforting--but more the act of travelling that made Bitty antsy. He kept a small, potted fern next to his bed, hoping that it would make him feel rooted, but it rarely worked. With a sigh, Bitty pulled out his phone and scrolled through Instagram, hoping the ridiculous myriad of selfies from his guitarist, Ransom, would lull him to sleep.

When he enlarged the first photo on Ransom’s page, however, Bitty nearly dropped his phone. There, squeezed between Ransom and Chowder, was Blue-Eyed Jack. He looked even more handsome in this photo, eyes brought out by whatever filter Ransom had used. Met this mofo today, the caption read. #gofalcs #providencefalconers #zimmboni #bittyandthebiscuits

“Falconers,” Bitty murmured to himself. That was the hockey team his band loved, the one whose games he watched from time-to-time. The only player he could name was Alexei Mashkov, however, because of the shrine to him the boys had built over Ransom’s bunk. He wondered if Blue-Eyed Jack was one of Mashkov’s teammates.

Jack, Bitty thought, closing his eyes against the glare of the phone. Blue-Eyed Jack, don’t walk away. Blue-Eyed Jack, I’m here to stay. Lovely boy, can’t you see? Blue-Eyed Jack, come back to me.

“Oh.” Bitty sat up straight, smacking his head against the bunk. “OW.”

“Mmgh-” The bed above him rustled as Ransom woke. “You okay, Bits?”

“Hit my head,” Bitty whispered. “Thought of a song.”

“Cool,” Ransom muttered, clearly still mostly asleep. “Have fun.”

Bitty didn’t respond; he’d already pulled open his Google Docs app and was jotting down everything he could think of, brain whirring away, jumbled up with thoughts of pretty eyes and shy smiles.

  Bitty and Ransom wrote the song in a week. By the time their roadie was over and they were back in L.A., the entire band knew Blue-Eyed Jack and their manager, Lardo, got them into the recording studio as soon as she could.

The song was a bigger hit than Bitty ever could’ve imagined. Though he was out--and one of the first publicly gay country singers to not be dropped by his label--Bitty rarely sung directly about men and being attracted to them. It seemed risky, in the past; fans might not care what he did in his personal life, but that was a far cry from listening to two minute and forty-three seconds of a man loving other men.

Blue-Eyed Jack met plenty of resistance, of course, but the support was what totally overwhelmed Bitty. He cried every day that the song stayed at the top of the charts, and was met with merciless chirping from his bandmates. At the end of the day, though, they’d all pull him into a big group hug and let him cry with happiness.

“Dolly Parton’s been tweeting about you,” Ransom said one day, a few weeks after the single had been released. “Dude, I think she wants to duet with you. Dude. Dude.”

“I think I’ve died,” Bitty said, flopping back dramatically on the couch, head landing in Ransom’s lap. “Am I dead? I feel dead.”

Ransom looked up from his phone. “Very possible. Let’s write a song about it for the CD.”

And, yes, their label was now working towards a brand-new album, to feature and be named after Blue-Eyed Jack.

“M-kay,” Bitty hummed, closing his eyes as he thought about a fun twist on death for the next song. The support of fans has slain me dead, tell Dolly to sing at my funeral-

“How’d you even come up with Blue?” Ransom asked, tossing his notebook onto the coffee table. “It’s simple but, like, genius.”

“Oh, ha,” Bitty said, rubbing at his eyes. “You remember that stop in Boston? Where we met with fans for hours before the concert? I met the most beautiful man in the world, there, named Jack, and I was so tired I told him I’d write a song about him, he was just so pretty.”

“El-oh-el, Bits,” Ransom said with a snort. “He was really that pretty?”

“You should know,” Bitty retorted. “You met him, too. On your Insta.”

“Wait…” Ransom scrolled through his phone again, brow furrowing. “Are you talking about Jack Zimmermann?”

“He’s in the pic with you and Chowder,” Bitty said with a shrug. “Hashtags about the Falcs.”

“JACK FUCKING ZIMMERMANN?”  Ransom lept up from the couch, hands in the air. “BLUE-EYED JACK IS ABOUT THE LEAD SCORER IN THE FUCKING NHL? THE FIRST PLAYER TO OPENLY DATE A MAN? BITTY, WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME?”

Bitty sat up, a little taken aback. “He’s gay?”

“Not the point, Bits,” Ransom hissed, grabbing Bitty’s shoulders. “He’s Bad Bob’s son. He’s magical.”

Bitty shrugged, wondering if Chowder and Dex would have the same reaction. “He’s also very pretty.”

“I’m tweeting about this,” Ransom said, scurrying to the door. “I’m tweeting this. This is epic. This is- I don’t even know what this is.” “Rans!” Bitty lept up, chasing him out of the room. “What’re you doing? Stop that!”

Bitty felt his phone buzz, knowing it was a Twitter notification without having to look.

Justin Oluransi @canadianbiscuit

Apparently @omgittybitty wrote Blue-Eyed Jack about @jlzimmermann1 and didn’t realize it???? EVERYONE SHAME BITTY W ME #shame

“You’re such a dick!” Bitty shouted as Ransom high-tailed it up the stairs to Dex’s and Chowder’s bedrooms. “I swear to Jesus I’m gonna replace you! Just you watch, you traitor!”

All he got in response was Ransom’s laughter and indignant shrieks from Dex and Chowder in response to the tweet. Bitty sighed and stalked off to the kitchen to bake, knowing already that he would be donating the pies that came out of this to the lovely couple nextdoor.

  The tweet went viral.

Ransom was banned from pie for weeks.

  They ended up on the east coast again to promote the new album before its release. Bitty had eventually forgiven Ransom, and the hockey community as a whole seemed to find the event more funny than offensive. The Falcs had replied to the tweet excitedly and Alexei Mashkov had followed them all on various social media platforms -- as did his teammates Birkholtz, Nurse, and Knight -- much to the excitement of the band.

Bitty told the story over and over again in different interviews that week as they bounced around TV studios, radio shows, and promotional events. He was starting to grow tired of talking about Jack Zimmermann--there were several songs on the album he was really excited about, but no one cared about that when they could chirp Bitty for his crush on a stupid hockey player.

They had a night off after an event in Boston, and Bitty was looking forward to finding some nice restaurant and turning in early, but the boys kidnapped him and pulled him into an Uber before he could protest.

“We’ve got plans, Bits,” Ransom said, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “You’re gonna love ‘em. Promise.”

“You’re still on thin ice, Justin,” Bitty sniped. “Watch yourself.”

The boys and Lardo just laughed and they rode away from the city, through some truly impressive traffic, until they hit 95. Then they were cruising, making smalltalk with the driver and chirping each other like little kids.

It wasn’t until Bitty noticed the signs on the side of the road that he realized just where they were heading. “Providence?” He asked, eyes narrowing. “Is this some sort of joke?”

“No joke,” Chowder said simply. “They’re playing the Flyers tonight. We’ve got tickets!”

“Really great tickets,” Dex added. “Lardo got in contact with their PR people-”

“Who’ve been loving the publicity from Rans’ tweet,” Lardo added.

“-and they sent us seats right up on the glass. It’s gonna be wicked ‘swawesome.”

‘Ugh, I hate you all,” Bitty said, crossing his arms. “The internet’s gonna eat this up and make my life miserable.” “Yep!” Ransom agreed. “Also, we’ve got passes to meet the team after.”

“Driver,” Bitty said, leaning over the console. “Driver please unlock the door and let me throw myself from the vehicle, thank you.”

Sadly, the driver just laughed, and Bitty resigned himself to his fate.

  Admittedly, the game was great. Even if the announcer did introduce Zimmermann as “Our very own Blue-Eyed Jack,” much to Bitty’s chagrin. But now, as they waited in a back room to meet the team, Bitty wondered if he still had time to escape. Ransom’s arm around his shoulder was tighter than he’d like, and meant running probably wouldn’t be an option.

“Holy crap, dudes!”

A very large man--Birkholtz--burst into the room, grinning at them all. “If it isn’t the band that made Zimmer-dick legendary!”

“That’s us!” Ransom said cheerfully. Bitty fought the urge to hide his face in his hands.

Behind Birkholtz came Nurse, Knight, and Mashkov, all greeting them exuberantly. Mashkov pulled Bitty into a tight hug, lifting him straight off his feet.

“Jay-Zed’s on his way,” Knight said easily, shaking hands with Lardo and Dex. “He’s been itchin’ meet you guys again since the song came out.”

“Oh, Lord,” Bitty whispered. “So he doesn’t hate it?”

Knight and Nurse exchanged an incredulous look. “Hate it? Dude,” Nurse laughed. “He loves it.”

“Oh.” Bitty felt his cheeks flush. “Well. That’s good.”

“You guys wanna get drinks once Zimmboni gets here?” Mashkov asked.

“Yes!” Ransom and Chowder shouted at the same time. Dex shrugged and nodded, trying to look cool. Bitty just sighed.

“What about me?”

Bitty felt his heart skip a beat. There, in the doorway, stood Jack Zimmermann, his eyes as blue as ever and his cheeks pink from the game. Lord, if Bitty hadn’t already written a song dedicated to this man’s beauty, he’d be writing one right now.

“Oh,” Jack said, a small smile blooming on his face. “Hi, again.”

“Hi,” Bitty said, forgetting basic human language as he drank in the sight of post-game Jack, freshly showered and glowing.

“Alright, we’ll meet you guys at the exit,” Birkholtz said, ushering the others from the room. “Have fun, use protec-”

He was cut off by Knight, who all but shoved him out the door, winking at Jack.

Then they were alone and Bitty thought he might pass out.

“So, um.” Bitty scratched at his neck. “I hear you like the song?”

Jack nodded, eyes cast down at his shoes. “I do. A lot. You really...wrote it about me?”

Bitty nodded quickly, not trusting his voice. Jack looked pleased, and the light of it in his eyes made them look even bluer and prettier.

“The guys mentioned getting drinks right now,” Jack said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “But, uh, I could really go for some food right now. Euh, dinner. With you? Tonight? Now?”

Bitty chewed on his bottom lip, nodding with every word Jack added. “I’d like that,” he said.

“Great.” Jack just smiled at him for a moment, then seemed to remember he needed to say something else. “I know a great Italian place not far from my apartment…”

Bitty felt his body burning at the implication, and nodded again. “That sounds perfect.”

“Perfect,” Jack repeated, and he held out his hand. Bitty took it and let Jack lead him from the room. They were almost at the parking garage where Jack’s car was kept when Jack paused with a wicked grin and asked, “So, you really think my face is that pretty, eh?”

Bitty pouted. “You keep up that chirping and you’re eating alone, mister. Teasing’s reserved for the third date.”

Jack laughed and kept walking, squeezing Bitty’s hand. “Guess I’ll have to wait until then.”

Bitty nodded, unable to hide his smile. “Guess you will.”

[READ PART 2]

[My writing tag]

[OMGCP Country Singer AU]

[My online novel, The Discourt Knife]

[mothmanismyuncle]

The Witching Hour

Hey. I wrote some filth. I know, I know, usually, my rule is “Don’t Get Horny On Main,” buuuuut this is too good to pass up, and I’ve been reblogging debauchery here for months anyway. 

This is a Klance Witch AU smut piece, very short. I’m going to turn it into a series because what even is time management?

Anyway, smut below the cut ;)

Tagging @bitchniz

Let me know if you want tagged in later instalments.

Lance almost couldn’t contain the snort that bubbled up inside of him when he saw where Keith was tugging them.

“Keith, can’t you see the irony here?” He sniped. The dark look that the boy shot him from under his bangs made his steps shorten momentarily. His pants were just a little too tight all of the sudden to maintain his usual swagger. “We’re about to go into a broom closet,”

“Shut it,” Keith growled, one side of his mouth ticking up. Lance was forgiven, for the moment. Keith knelt down and pulled his wallet out of his pocket. Lance’s eyes scanned the hallway. It was lunch period, and this was the science wing. No real reason why anybody should be over here unless they also needed a little alone time in a broom closet to get them through the day. Keith unlocked the door in seconds with his lockpicks and had a finger snagged in Lance’s belt loop before Lance could say anything else. The door closed behind them, and they were plunged into darkness.

“Light switch?” Lance breathed. Keith’s hands were everywhere, gods, the boy was an octopus. 

“We don’t need it,” Keith insisted lowly, pressing wet kisses to the column of Lance’s throat. Lance hummed in response. That was one surefire way to get Lance to be quiet, and Keith found that out early on. Lance got to work on Keith’s jacket. “No,” There was a hiccup in the inception of a love bite. “Not today.”

“Okay, mi cielo. Where?” Hands cupped Keith’s face and the pads of lithe thumbs rubbed small circles in his cheekbones. 

“Backdoor only,” Keith’s voice rasped and he cleared his throat. He’d never not feel awkward about this part, but he knew it was best for the both of them. Lance, bless him, giggled to relieve the tension in the air.

“As you were,” Keith let out a low laugh and brought his attention back to just under the palm that reminded him where he had left off in the dark. Keith finished bringing a dark blossom to life on Lance’s collarbone, just under the line of his tee shirt and snaked his hands up Lance’s stomach. “You’re impatient today,” Lance said quietly in his ear.

“I’m impatient every day,” Keith shot back before lifting the tee shirt up and over Lance’s head. The soft chuckle made Keith’s heart pound and he felt his face break into a grin.

“You got me there, mullet,” Lance said quietly. Keith grabbed Lance’s belt buckle and tugged gently. “Go ahead.” Keith could already tell that Lance was so ready for this as he unbuttoned his pants and eased his fly over his erection. The hiss that Lance let out made Keith grin again as he sunk to his knees. Lance tangled his fingers in Keith’s hair as Keith worked Lance’s boxers down. “Guess which ones I’m wearing,” Lance said, not fully expecting an answer.

“Uh, the happy cow ones,” Keith said offhandedly as he fished around in his jacket pocket for a condom. Lance gasped.

“How did you know?” There was a rip as Keith tore open the package with his teeth. “Maybe that’s your magic, Keith. Mind-reading.” 

“Not the time,” Keith said stiffly. He rolled the condom down Lance’s length and Lance swallowed with a gulp.

“You’re right,” He gasped. Keith chuckled darkly as he licked his lips. 

“Like usual,” Keith muttered. Lance didn’t have a chance to fight back before Keith took him into his mouth. The air left Lance’s lungs in a hurry as Keith took as much as he could with a bob of his head. Lance’s hand tightened in Keith’s hair and Lance felt Keith grin around him.

“Kinky mullet,” Lance breathed on a shaky exhale. Keith swirled his tongue over the head and Lance groaned, deep in his throat. Lance tugged and it was Keith’s turn to moan as he took more of Lance in on another frantic bob. “Keith,” Lance breathed. “Keith, Keith,” He was praying, now. Keith knew this rhythm like he knew the rhythm in shifting gears on his bike. “You’re so good at this, Keith. You and that filthy mouth,” Lance muttered. Keith knew his pupils would be blown wide with an expression on his face that always made Keith wonder what Lance thought he was looking at. Keith hummed and chuckled when the vibrations made Lance stutter. “Slow down, slow down,” Lance instructed. “We’ve still got the main event.” Keith extricated Lance from his mouth with a crude popping sound. 

“You got the lube?” He asked, standing up. 

“Do I have the lube, he asks.” Lance scoffed. A plastic snap answered Keith’s question. “Are you going to be a good boy and get ready for me?” Keith’s hands moved of their own accord. Pants hit the floor, and thumbs hooked into the waistband of boxers. “Uh, don’t forget your gloves, dude. Last time was gross,” Keith snorted and unhooked the snaps on his gloves and tucked them into his jacket pocket. He put a hand out and connected with Lance’s chest.

“Ready.” He said huskily. Lance’s hand cupped the curve of his ass.

“That makes two of us,” He said. Keith could hear the grin in his voice as a finger smoothed between his cheeks. The lube was warm from riding around in Lance’s pocket all day. “Spread your legs a bit,” Lance muttered in his ear. “That’s a good boy,” Heat pooled low in Keith’s abdomen at the words. Lance’s finger teased at the entrance and Keith couldn’t hold in the growl that escaped him at the taunting contact. “Calm down, wild man, we’re getting there,” He chuckled. Keith arched his back and Lance kissed him in an obvious attempt at distraction. Keith kissed back for a moment but snagged Lance’s bottom lip in a sharp bite. “Ow!” Lance cried. “Alright, alright, you frickin’ cannibal, you win,” Lance’s finger dipped into Keith and Keith’s breath hitched. “Happy?”

“Very,” Keith responded. The word vibrated in his chest and made Lance chuckle at him, but Lance kept up his work. Lance peppered Keith’s neck with soft kisses as he toiled, making Keith’s breaths come in staccato gasps.

“You ready?” Lance whispered into the crook of Keith’s neck.

“Yesterday,” Keith muttered, backing away and spinning around. 

“Okay, logistically, there’s gotta be something for you to lean on in here,” Lance said, palming himself and getting a bit more lube. 

“The shelves,” Keith replied, already leaning over. 

“Good thinkin’. I knew we kept you around for more than your charming good looks,” Lance chuckled, his hand connecting with Keith’s ass. His thumb swirled around Keith’s hole. “What’s your poison today, wild man?” 

“Lightning,” Keith said, without hesitation. Lance hummed as he lined himself up. 

“Lightning,” He replied. “Coming right up,” Strong hands gripped Keith’s hips and the pressure built against him. It was all he could do to keep himself from rocking back on his heels and fucking himself against Lance, and he bit his lip in impatience. Lance’s thumbs swirled against Keith’s hipbones and Keith tasted pennies in the air. That was his only warning before a sharp snap filled the air and every point of contact that Lance had with him came to life briefly. A groan pulled itself from Keith’s throat like taffy and Lance bottomed out. “That’s a good boy,” Lance said lowly. There was a pause.

“Lance, if you don’t move in two seconds,” Keith snapped. 

“Alright, alright. I’d say, ‘Keep your shorts on,’” He replied, swirling his thumbs on Keith’s hips once more. Keith tasted pennies as he growled. 

“Lance!” Lance chuckled and pulled himself slowly backwards before allowing Keith to have a taste of the thunderstorm in his veins. Keith’s limbs tingled as one hand snaked forward, towards his dick. 

“What’s your colour?” Lance asked tenderly. Keith allowed a second to pass before answering.

“Green,” He replied. Sparking kisses made their way up Keith’s spine as Lance lazily circled the head of his dick with a finger, sending tiny arcs of electricity directly into Keith’s brain. “Oh, god,”

“Leave him out of this,” Lance chuckled. He picked up the pace, tearing another low moan from Keith’s chest. Keith felt the pressure building in his groin as Lance’s magic made his whole being tingle to life. He rasped a breath and the steady stream of words that he hadn’t realized he’d been babbling — mine, mine, mine, — slammed to a stop as another snap sounded and electricity kissed his asscheek. “Oh, thaaat might be a little sore later,” Lance stopped moving. Keith snarled and bucked his hips back and Lance whined. 

“Somethin’ to remember you by,” Keith said darkly and Lance resumed his work on Keith’s dick. The sparks in his fingertips made Keith’s head swim and his lungs felt like they couldn’t get enough air. 

“You are such a good boy,” Lance whispered huskily in his ear, moulding himself to Keith’s back.

“I’m close,” Keith stuttered and Lance nipped his ear. 

“Me too,” He grunted. He picked up the pace, chasing his own release, and turned up the voltage, chasing a release for Keith. A whine escaped Keith’s mouth as he felt his knees begin to shake. Lance gripped Keith’s waist tighter to keep from falling over as the pair of them saw the face of a God they knew intimately. 

Keith’s moans reached a crescendo, and three things happened all at once. The lightbulb over them flared to life, but it was short-lived. The power flowing through it caused it to explode in a shower of purple sparks. The cleaning supplies on shelves that they were debauching swiped themselves down, falling all around the boys but miraculously not touching them. And last, but absolutely not least, Lance came, followed by Keith shortly after.

“Holy shit,” Lance breathed, eyes wild in the dark. “That usually doesn’t happen,” He chirped. He pressed one last kiss to Keith’s spine as he extricated himself from Keith’s ass. “Wonder what that was,” 

“Dunno,” Keith rasped. His forehead rested on his arm on the shelf. “Think you could find some paper towels?” Lance turned his phone flashlight on and set to work cleaning his boyfriend up. 

“Did that lightbulb explode purple, or am I just losin’ it?” Lance asked, and Keith gave him a level look.

“We just had mind-blowing sex in a school janitor’s closet, and you want to know what colour the lightbulb exploded in?” Lance huffed at Keith’s dry tone. “You were keeping me pretty busy,” 

“Okay, okay. It was a little… Weird, is all.” Lance said, handing Keith his boxers and pants. “Wait, did you take your jeans off over your boots?” He asked giving Keith an incredulous look. Keith sighed and smacked at his forehead. 

“We’re gonna be late for class,” Keith said, wriggling into his pants and stuffing his hands into his gloves. 

“Sure, sure,” Lance finished cleaning himself off as best as he could before wrapping the condom in an auspicious amount of paper towels. “Hope they don’t find this,” They peeked out of the broom closet before leaving, hands tangling together.

“I’m sure they’re gonna be more busy with the mess in there than the trash can,” Keith said quietly, cheeks pinkening. “I’m not sure what happened either.” He admitted. Lance peeked back over his shoulder at the closed door with a frown. There was something he couldn’t quite put his finger on about that, but Keith squeezing his fingers once around his snapped his attention back to his boyfriend.

“Yeah, it’s whatever,” Lance said, waving a hand in the air. “Weird coincidence.”