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galeorderbride · 2 months

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The Forest For The Trees - Fic Request (Gale x F!Tav)

A Gale smut piece requested by one of my OG readers @meglet1. Thank you so much for the request and for being you in general!! I seriously hope you like what I’ve written for you <3

18+ MDNI (This is SMUT/tags below)

Summary:

After Tav is nearly killed in a fight at Rivington Beach, Gale lets his fear get the best of him and a new couple spat ensues. Leading to a peaceful resolution :)

Tags: PiV sex, semi-public sex, inappropriate use of mage hand, oral sex (m and f receiving, including some choking), words of praise/encouragement, creampie, fingering (vaginal & anal), multiple orgasms, self-indulgent, some references to Tav having body issues.

Word count: 4.7K

Mind the tags, everyone. Fic below the cut:

“I decided to choose you and live, then you go off and almost get yourself killed!”

Gale wasn’t the type to air out his issues in front of everyone, but this time, he couldn’t shake the nervous energy off. Panic and anxiety of balancing on an uneven precipice, powerless. Just days ago, he chose to stay with Tav instead of doing as Mystra commanded him, deep in that haunting colony, where the Elder Brain resided and, because he decided to live, remained a threat to the entire Sword Coast.

Less than an hour ago, he and Tav returned from the beaches of Rivington with their companions. Running into a gaggle of rival gangs ready to slaughter each other. The guild, run by the infamous Nine Fingers Keene, and the new recruits of this Stone Lord everyone was talking about. Gale cared little for whose alliance went where. Not when Tav had decided to intervene right in the middle of things, doing her best to settle scores and ending up having to fight both of them.

In the crossfire, Tav was hit with an electrified weapon, a hammer imbued with thunderous damage effects that nearly killed her with the impact against her spine. Knocked down, she spent the remainder of the fight unconscious, no one having time to revive her until they’d finished the fight. Across a landscape of crime syndicate corpses, Gale watched with intensity as Shadowheart struggled to revive her. The image of her near dissolved heartbeat still aching within him, harsher than the orb. Gasping for breath at the last second when he thought he lost her forever.

She’d regained balance quickly, the powerful healing of Selune now imbued within Shadowheart’s fingers, even if she hadn’t quite gotten to admit it yet. Tav was walking normally, a little fatigued but nothing more than that. Which gave Gale the opportunity to stop being worried for her welfare and be upset instead.

“Do you know how close you came to death? How much I worried Shadowheart wouldn’t revive you? All for a bunch of criminals who would’ve cared for the dirt under their boots more than you!” Gale exclaimed as he paced around the hay shed at their camp outside Rivington. Tav followed, arms across her chest as she tried to contain a frustrated sigh.

“I wasn’t trying to get all of them against us. How many times has convincing people to cool their heads worked on this journey? Times we never expected! I didn’t think this would be an exception,” she replied, her voice soft but assertive in her own defense.

“That’s what happens when you expect things to work in your favour! We can never assume anything is an absolute certainty, and I’ve been saying this from the beginning. I know it’s in your nature to stick your neck out for people, but do recall that I gave up on what might be the heaviest task of my life so I could be with you!” Gale continued, letting his panic get the better of him.

Tav’s eyes widened, now no longer trying to placate. “Don’t you use that against me! My encouragement to have you stay with me is not a blank check to use against me when I do something you dislike. I asked you to stay because I love you! And I had no intention of starting a fight today, nor did I plan to end up in the state I did!”

This was around when the rest of the camp began to hear them arguing. Frigid looks turned their way by Shadowheart, Karlach and Wyll. Eyerolls and mischievous scoffing from Astarion. Jaheira simply shook her head and mumbled ‘young love’ under her breath. Gale pretended not to hear it.

She looked at him with such offense, eyes dotted with the threat of tears from his fury. Any motivation to be cross with her slowly waning each time his eyes met hers.

“I love you too! Which is why I’m so off put by what happened to you. I don’t want to see you putting yourself in danger and disregarding forethought! I don’t think you understand just how much I can’t—”

Gale didn’t finish the sentence, brought on by a fear that he’d overwhelm her in saying such an intense thing. They’d confessed their love in a spur of the moment, when the culmination of all they’d been through was knocking at the front door. Emotions were high, and while he meant every word he said, he didn’t want to cross a line and compromise the start of a wonderful thing with Tav. Deep down, he’d loved her from the moment he saw her, and each day he got closer to admitting that out loud. Precisely why he reacted with such fear to what happened at the beach.

Tav crossed her arms, an expression of seriousness he’d never seen before. Well, not directed at him.

“Can’t what? Don’t let this be the time you don’t use your words, Gale. Because I am this close to storming off,” she said, pinching her index finger and thumb together in an impatient motion.

“I can’t…live without…you,” he said, his voice starting loud and then slowly quieting as he completed the sentence.

The two of them stopped short, silence washing over them as his words sank into both their minds. Memories of their first night together flooding back, when he showed her everything he could offer. A beautiful experience in the Outer Planes, where their souls entwined within currents of raw weave. Expressing their new love in countless ways, too many for one evening, but they did all they could. Loving, tender, but despite it all, not real. Not bodies together, the physical exertion of passionate, violently yearning intimacy. Just what Gale became tempted with after he spoke those long awaited words, as the anger melted from his system and replaced itself with carnality.

There wasn’t time for Tav to respond. Astarion cut in with his usual mocking tone. “Would you two get a damned room? Your voices are grating and I’m trying to enjoy a nice glass of wine I stole from Last Light.”

“I knew that bottle was familiar!” Jaheira cried out, no longer paying attention to Gale and Tav.

Tav sighed, bothered by the chiding of their companions. She felt on the spot, watched in all the wrong ways. Gale gently grabbed her arm.

“Come over this way,” he demanded, short and impatient. Quite possibly the briefest she’d ever heard him speak.

He pulled her away from the camp, a short but fair distance from their companions. Clusters of bushes and broken trees began to fill the space as he brought her forward. The sun was setting above them, hues of paradisiacal magenta and orange above them, beaming through the shaking leaves. Tav didn’t have much time to gaze upon the natural beauty, for Gale led her as if running to safety.

“Gale, where are you taking me?! You’re pulling too much, I’m going to lose my balance,” Tav questioned.

A few seconds went by, Tav’s curiosity getting the better of her as she’d never seen him so flustered. Trees surrounded them, but not enough to block the bustling city lights of Rivington on one side and the fire of their camp on the other. Voices of Karlach and Lae’zel talking could still be heard from the distance they stood. Tav had never been to this side before, but Gale had a way of making her feel safe no matter where.

“Come here, love,” he said, his arms moving to hook around her waist as he pushed her gently against a large tree.

She had little time to take a breath before his lips were on hers, soft but with an ardent passion once resting in bubbling irritation, now sprouting into lust. Their bodies pressed together, hips against hips as Tav began to melt into his wandering touch. Her knees nearly buckled when his index finger grazed the ridge of her jaw, tongue caressing her own. Temptation to run her fingers through his wondrous hair was too great, that strange sensation of a near death if she didn’t, silken texture on her skin enough to forget about everything they argued about.

But his words hung loose in her mind, and she pulled out of the kiss for a moment. Their faces still centimetres apart as she whispered, “I can’t live without you either. I’m sorry I wasn’t careful.”

Gale rubbed his nose against hers, that playful, breathy grin plastered on his face. “Let’s just look out for each other, alright? It’s so easy to get ahead of oneself, and I love you too much to watch idle by and pray you know the risk. You are a powerhouse of might, my love, but neither of us is invincible.”

“I know, I know,” she said in a hushed tone, so whisper thin the crickets chirped louder. Night fell fast, unburdened by clouds and blanched with a sea of stars. Everything was perfect, a moment in time that both of them longed for since their first time together. Opportunities never coming soon enough as their arduous adventures took precedence over everything. Now was the time, when the sky’s darkness masked them from the rest of the world’s troubles.

Gale answered with peppering kisses down Tav’s neck, shivering at the supple softness against such a sensitive area. For the first time since before Mystra, he wanted something purely physical—mortal. Covered in the finite flesh of his new love, giving pieces of themselves as a simple reminder that they remained alive. He’d forgotten the lure of that desire, powerful and impossible to satiate without going the full way, being as close to Tav as humanly possible.

Cracked bark scratched the itches of Tav’s back, pressed ever harder with each kiss from neck to collarbone. Desire budding at the touch points of her body; at the tip of her breasts, the heat of her ears, the tingling between her legs. Those parts growing more swollen with want when she felt the brush of his palms around her waist, fingertips dipping under the hem of her shirt to tickle her lower stomach. They were like teenagers sneaking around behind a schoolyard, eyes darting back and forth to make sure no one saw them enjoy each other. A thrill long forgotten on both sides.

“Gale, won’t someone hear us? We’re still close to camp,” Tav said between laboured, lustful breaths.

“With all we’ve been through, I highly doubt they care. But to ease your anxieties,” Gale replied, waving his hand to create a violet purple dome around them, “A silencing spell.”

“Perfect,” she said.

With a quick maneuver, Gale unclipped the belt of her wrapped shirt, slowly folding the fabric over her shoulders. He took his time, relishing in the pull of cloth from skin, little reveals each second until she bore herself bare to him. A maroon brasier remained, almost black under the moonlight and slipping low. Enough to catch a glimpse of her nipples, begging to spring free from constriction. Meanwhile, Gale spread her longer shirt across the ground, using clothes as a makeshift bed—if not to remedy the future ache of his knees. He unwrapped his robes as well, left only in a white, linen shirt and trousers.

He could hardly concentrate, the beauty of Tav under the moonlight too transfixing to not stare upon. Fitted perfectly in her under clothes, the rise and fall of her chest teasing him without trying. Watching like she didn’t notice, but she did, and began to strip for his pleasure. Removing the straps of the bra first, slow against her shoulders, the perk of her breasts peeking out before the clasp snapped free. Gale stood before her, watching with a subtle grin.

“You are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Tav. Do you know how much? How I ache to the point of fever when graced with your presence?” He asked, voice dark with lust, a gruffness she didn’t hear when in the Outer Planes.

“Even as I am? No magic or beautiful strands of starry weave around me? Surely this can’t be as exciting as that time,” she said, not intending to be self conscious, but failing to keep that in check. Not a goddess, not a higher being in the form of a body, but just herself. Scars, blemishes, bad angles and all. Mortal in all the wrong ways.

“As you are is more than anything the weave could offer. Having you naked under the moon like this is a memory embedded in my mind for eternities to come,” he said, stepping over to her to help unbutton her pants. He ensured his fingers touched every part, no matter where, and his breath against her neck warmed and cooled.

“Oh, my, you give me no chance with words like that,” she said.

Between bountiful, romantic kisses, the rest of their clothes were discarded into the flattened pile. Too impatient to go somewhere with room to conjure a full bed, absorbed in the embrace of each other as they fell into the fabric. Tav straddled his waist, lowering down so she could still glide her tongue against his. Never wishing to part her lips from his for the rest of the night. Craving the push of his hands embedded in her skin, down her spine and over the hill of her ass, ending with a firm squeeze.

Not a single part of her didn’t feel something. Her nipples gliding against his chest hair, hardening them in seconds with the playful tingle at the tips. His hands finding purchase, amused enough to spank the right cheek with a hard enough force to have her yelp giggle and yelp out loud. And that irresistible grind of his growing erection pushing against her core, hastier than himself, simply begging to push into that tight, unoccupied hole. Just the beginning, and yet she already preferred being together like this, fully in tandem with each other, nothing but their beating hearts and heated bodies.

Eventually, both of them needed to take a breath, locked in a heated make out for a time they lost count of. Tav lifted her body up, back arched in pleasure as Gale followed teeth-first. Biting, sucking, licking her nipples, each side deserving of his equal attention. Delicate moans grew into hot, heavy woes of passion, caring little for noise control with the purple dome of silence above them. Saliva trailed down her breasts, her wizard so lost in the ecstasy of tasting those pink, round buds. Hugging her in his arms, moving his cock against her to feel the head getting wetter with her slick.

Tav whispered in his ear, fingers tangled in his hair, “Perhaps I should get into danger more often, if this is the consequence.”

Gale chuckled, muffled by the slide of his tongue around her earlobe, “No need. Should you want my services, all you have to do is ask. Nicely. With a very eager ‘please’. Now, I am on the precipice of sliding into you this instant. But I’d have you come first.”

Hands firm on her ass, he pushed her forward, legs buckling over as he laid down. Angling himself so her core hovered over his face as he continued, “On my mouth, darling.”

Unable to contain her giggles, she adjusted her legs to straddle the sides of his face. Too gradual for Gale as he grabbed her hips and pulled her down. Tav gasped from the heavenly sensation, his lips and tongue all over her pussy in seconds, nodding his jaw up and down to stimulate her slit with his stubble. His tongue moved with expert precision, letting Tav take control of the pace as he moaned into her cunt, slurping and sucking at her as if drowning himself in her essence. There wasn’t enough lip biting and stifled moans in the world to keep her from building up to a snapping orgasm, inch by inch as she swivelled her hips around his face. His nose jutted against her pubic bone, mouth focused entirely on her swollen clit, pushing her down to ensure she wouldn’t move away. Even as her inner thigh muscles shook with pleasured tremors.

Tav stuttered out, “Holy fu…ck…Gale, I’m s-so close. Keep going, keep going! Now, yes, now!”

At that point, she was using any superlative her blurred mind could conjure. An orgasm flowered within her, strong, hot and never felt in a very long time. She clawed his hair under her legs, twitching hips riding out a wet climax, dripping into his beard. A taste he’d never get enough of, buttery and sweet on his tongue. He’d be happy to suffocate under her in a bid to have her finish again.

Coming down wasn’t an option, continuing to flick his tongue against her clit even as her muscles relaxed. Sensitivity stung at her pussy, sharp hits of pleasure shining through with each feral moan he made. A sound so enticing, she melted for him, allowing his hands still on her ass to push her further forward, rear completely up. Behind her, he snapped his fingers, figments of magic beckoning around her in a light blue glow. Tav could barely pay attention, lost in the feeling of his tongue lapping at her cunt. Until two fingers pushed into her entrance, filling her quick but smooth in an electrified vibration. A mage hand, finger fucking her from behind. Taking her to a place of impossible pleasure, no choice but to let go.

As Gale sucked at her clit, muffled words came from below her, “Does that feel nice, my love? Can you cum all over my face again? That’s it, let the hand fuck you, good girl.”

“Gods above, Gale, I’m so sensitive! But fuck it feels so good!” She exclaimed, whimpering with each buck of her hips against his mouth, the hand following every angle so not a centimetre pulled out. Pumping into her tight walls, angling in just the right direction to have her shaking for a second climax.

“Let me help you even more,” Gale said, motioning his wrist to command the mage hand to push its thumb at the entrance of her asshole. Prodding in and out, gently easing in enough to thrust in the same rhythm as the fingers, slick sounds of sex invading her ears. She gasped at the hot tightness, cunt thoroughly stimulated in every way. It was perfect, hitting every spot just how she liked, and some she didn’t know existed. Gale was simply eager to please, laughing slyly as he felt her orgasm again.

Tav quaked at her second finish, overwhelmed with searing ecstasy. She cried out, “I can’t take it anymore, please! Too—too sensitive.”

The mage hand vanished with her command, easing the pressure of overstimulation palpating in her veins. Gale couldn’t resist one, soft kiss on her clit before letting her move off of him. Without her body to focus on, the ache of his rock hard cock snapped into awareness. Precum dotting the head, so stiff he feared it might break at the gentlest touch. Proven wrong when Tav brought her lips down to the tip, licking off the salty cum. Giving him a taste of his own medicine as he shivered in sensitive rapture. Both of them had a tendency to get carried away, as what was meant to be a simple tease with her tongue led to her taking his cock into her mouth. Using her hand to pump at the bottom of the shaft, too big to go all the way down.

Choking and sucking sounds filled the air as Gale writhed under the mercy of her mouth. Running her hand up and down his bare thigh, hypnotized by the lusty song of his satisfied whimpers. He wanted to tell her this wasn’t necessary, he enjoyed seeing her enjoyment. But as her throat coated his cock, he was rendered speechless. More so when she bobbed her head up and down, moaning through her nose as he gently joined her by fucking her mouth. Small, quick thrusts in fear of hurting her, but enough to make his calf muscles strain.

Spit and precum doused his cock as she lifted him out of her mouth, a raunchy ‘pop’ sound coming from her lips. Gale’s shaken, pleasured sighs covered the forest, stimulated by the cold air kissing the wet surface of his raised erection. Tav fawned over how it glistened, her core pulsing and tightening with the silent beg to be filled. Surely, she’d pass out if he wasn’t inside her immediately.

Gale exhaled deeply, shaking his head with unfathomable joy. “You will be the death of me. That felt…so good. I don’t even know how to describe it.”

She smiled, failing to contain the blush on her face. How she loved to know he was already satisfied. “We’re not done yet, my love.”

Her leg hooked back over his waist, straddling him again. This time, angling the opening of her cunt right against the desperate head of his thick cock. He looked so beautiful below her, gleaming with sweat and rosy with anticipation. Fingertips tickling up and down the sides of her thighs. Gods, when he laughed, that lusty chuckle of boiling desire had her foolish in his arms. She chased that sound, easing down on his cock until he bottomed out inside her. The stretch and slick of her walls fluttering around him forcing a high pitched whimper from her. Clit shuddering at the sensation of little hairs against it, nearly orgasming right there. Never had she wanted someone so much, craved another’s touch in a way she didn’t know was possible until meeting him. Everything about him was magnificent.

“Moan for me, love. I want to hear your every sound as I fuck you,” Tav demanded, locking her palms on his chest as she began to ride him. Fast, fervently, hips bucking back and forth so good he obeyed instantly. Husky, sultry, moans and even guttural growls with each grind of her pussy against him.

One hand stayed on her thigh and the other kneaded at her breast, his thumb flicking and pinching her nipple while her languid movements continued. By now, he could see when she was close, biting down on her lip to concentrate as she ignored her aching muscles. More warmth and wetness dripped along his cock. He nodded to her, let her use him as a toy for her own pleasure, moving pieces of hair from her face at the same time.

“Let me see you cum again, please. That’s it, ride my cock like that. So wet for me, I can’t believe it. Keep going, yes, very good. You’re doing so well,” he said, words of encouragement coming with his thumb moving to her clit. Rubbing the spot he learned she liked, just a little assistance in getting her over that impossible edge.

Tav’s body cramped up as she squeezed onto his cock, crying out Gale’s name as her third climax ripped through her lower half, felt even at the tingling peak of her breasts. He could’ve done anything in that moment, came anywhere he liked, and she’d be fine with it. Her orgasm all the stronger as she pictured being covered in him from face to pussy. A debauched mess on top of clothes, fully vulnerable to him.

Seeing her above him brought his own release closer. Unable to wait as he pulled her torso down to kiss her hard, pushing his tongue into her mouth with reckless abandon. Tav yelped playfully as they kissed, paralyzed by the ecstasy of being fucked into. Sore, sensitive and hedonistic, she relished in the hard thrusting and the heated touch of their perspired bodies together. Wishing this would never end but craving his release inside her at the same time.

She left the kiss to whisper in his ear, biting his earlobe, licking at him, “Finish inside me. Please, I want it so bad.”

“Oh, gods, Tav I’m going to—right…ah!” He groaned out the unfinished sentence, his impatient cock spilling inside of her tight hole. He pulsed within her, feeling his spine arch as he experienced likely the greatest orgasm he’d ever had. Reaching his entire body, lasting longer, an addicting taste of eternal paradise. Tav’s soft whimpers the final touch to the most wonderful feeling.

She moved off of him, laying flat with her legs open. Gale still felt trickles of desire in his stomach, not enough to get hard again so quickly, but enough to lean over her thoroughly fucked cunt. His breath warmed her skin as he caressed his tongue along her clit, letting his index finger rub her cum-filled entrance as he did. All she could do was wheeze, too tired for a full moan but adoring the feeling of his mouth on her again. He was gentle this time, careful not to bring out the growing soreness. No, he just softly licked, kissed and sucked at her clit, stomach sinking with carnal intrigue as he watched his cum dripping out of her. He wanted to mark his territory, give her one more orgasm to be certain she knew she was his. Even just a little one.

Tav concentrated with the full power of her exhausted mind, feeling herself ready to climax once more. She couldn’t believe how skilled he was, moaning his name out again as he pinched her lips together, pushing her clit further into his mouth. That, mixed with the amazing sensation of his cum inside of her, was enough to inch her into that little release. Her fingers clutching his hair, pulling slightly as she came for a fourth time. A tiny bit more of his seed poured out of her as she relaxed.

“Perfect,” he said, leaving her core and moving to lay beside her, “You are amazing. I can’t believe you’re real sometimes.”

Tav smiled, cuddling into the crux of his shoulder, “I should be the one to say that. No one’s ever been so attentive to me. And by the gods, I have never finished that many times.”

“Oh, my love, I am excited to inform you that wasn’t even all I can do. If I had you in a bed, with a private bathroom, different corners of the room to take you in; you’d have at least six, I’d make sure of it,” he replied.

“In that case, we must find an inn as soon as possible,” she replied, kissing his cheek as he scooped her body closer to him.

They cuddled for a few minutes more, letting the cool, night air dry their sweat-drenched bodies before returning to camp. Hand-in-hand, eyes doled with the fire of new romance and the comedown from lovemaking. What began as the rising moon, evening pink with sunset, had transformed into deep night, pleasantly dark and glinting with fresh, sparkling stars. Neither of them wished for a conclusion, but sleep beckoned and they had no idea what might happen tomorrow. Tav only knew that she’d refrain from taking too many risks, as now she’d become a fool for someone else entirely.

Gale and Tav agreed to share a tent tonight, and from now on. First, she went to the smouldering fire to grab a piece of sunmelon and her water canteen. The rest of the camp now silent as everyone retired for the evening, except for their most nocturnal companion: Astarion. Who had returned from the other side of the woods, pallid complexion brighter than usual, a sign that he just fed on an animal.

“Good hunt?” She asked, finishing off the last bite of her sunmelon piece and throwing the peel in the fire.

“Never as good as the real thing, darling, but enough to tide me over. Perhaps I should’ve saved some for you, tired little adventurer,” he replied, brow raised in that cheeky expression. Always present when he was about to take the piss out of someone.

“Fruit and water will suit me fine. Goodnight, Astarion,” she replied, turning to head for Gale’s tent.

Astarion spoke as she walked away, “By the way, remind your wizard to maintain his silencing concentration. If I’m going to hear your debauchery, I’d rather hear it from the beginning and not halfway through. Goodnight, Tav!”

Tav cleared her throat, swallowing down her growing embarrassment as she walked to Gale’s tent. Knowing fully well what kind of teasing she’d endure the next morning. For now, she would simply sleep in Gale’s arms and deal with the rest as they came.

339 notes · View notes

moethewriter · 9 months

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Could you do one for Finnick where no one knows they are together except close friends, we know katniss doesn’t like him much at first and the reader knows the rebellion plan and obviously Finnick so she doesn’t stop him from flirting with her and maybe(?) thinks it’s amusing because she knows why he’s doing it but it’s revealed in the arena they’re together and katniss is shocked

I hope you like it! I was excited to write it but I fear I made it far more angsty and less flirty than you would like! TITLE: A Lover's Cry WORD COUNT: 1.8k PAIRING: Finnick Odair x Reader WARNINGS: General hunger games violence, secret relationships, angst and multiple POV! (Katniss, Reader) TAGS: Let me know if I need to tag anything else! A/N: I actually really loved writing this one, and i hope you enjoy it despite only loosely basing it off your prompt! Thank you so much for the request and as always I take constructive critisicsm! Not beta read as usual! -

“So what’s with those two?” Katniss questioned, pointing towards the screen.

She had watched Haymitch flick through the tributes, giving her and Peeta the basics on everyone who was going into the arena. Two had caught her eyes immediately, Finnick Odair from District 4, and Y/N L/N from District 8. She knew their names, their faces but she didn’t know anything about their skills or who they were. But both seemed far too polished, posh and pretty standing in front of their respective crowds. It seemed like they were ready to head back in there, almost like they wanted too.

Haymitch turned towards the television.

“Finnick Odair and Y/N L/N.” He stated, watching the scenes of people he knew, waving towards the crowd of people. Picture perfect smiles adorning their faces.“The Capitol Darlings, everyone loves them … and people to watch out for. Finnick Odair, the youngest Victor in history at only fourteen and Y/N L/N took the top spot for kills from Beetee during her games. Took out nine people in one go. Extremely humble” He shook his head, remembering the brutality.

Katniss made a face. “You’re kidding right?” She snorted.

“Yes, I’m kidding.” Haymitch rolled his eyes. “They’re both peacocks, preeners … The Capitol loves their charm and friendship. They have a lot of support. They would make good allies … but deadly competition.” Haymitch explained.

“Weaknesses?” Peeta questioned, leaning towards his mentor.

“Finnick will have Mags in there, she basically raised him. He’ll want to protect her in whatever ways he can” Haymitch told them, taking a seat. “Y/N … far too trusting at heart and will do anything to protect them both. She’d rather see herself die than her friends.” He stated.

Katniss simply nodded.

Katniss walked into the training room, and scanned her surroundings … She didn’t know these Victors well enough to decide who she wanted to align herself with. According to Haymitch … to make it through the Quarter Quell, she and Peeta needed strong allies. Though she knew deep down the only one she could truly depend on was Peeta.

Katniss walked towards the bow and arrows laying on the table when she heard the sound of a faint giggle, something she thought she would never hear. She looked up, and her eyes moved around the room … finally they landed on the culprit. She frowned at the sight as she watched a blush rise on Y/N’s face. It wasn’t from endurance training, but from Finnick Odair.

Katniss had not taken Finnick, refused to, even … he was far too cocky for her taste and she didn’t want him anywhere near her. But Y/N seemed almost enamoured by him … like she liked … whatever the hell was going on.

Katniss made a mental note of the two, as she headed towards Mags … she would keep that to herself for now. She needed to make some friends here, and Katniss thought that Mags would be a good start.

“You’re going to get us caught, Finnick.” You blushed, pushing him away as you headed in the opposite direction. “Play it cool, Odair … can’t have everyone knowing about us.” You whispered.

“Sorry.” Finnick put his hands up in defence, a small smile lacing his features. “I’ll try to tone it down but looking at you … that’s going to be hard to do.”

“Zip it.” You made the motion of your lips. “We’ve got training to do.” You told him, gesturing towards the room.

Everyone else was laser focused on honing their skills, making it known that they were not to be messed with in the Games. But you two were simply goofing off, and giggling like two schoolgirls who had gossip that no one else knew. You were certain that Snow wasn’t pleased, nor was the new Game Maker but you were in your world. Finnick had always made it hard to concentrate on the task at hand.

You and Finnick had been together for three years. During the 71st Hunger Games you had both been mentors for your respective Districts, and he had confessed to you. It was strange … so confusing to find love in the hardship of the Games but you wouldn’t trade that for the world. You loved him more than anything and he loved you right back. Long distance had been hard at first but you made it work, you would always make it work for him.

“Find me later?” He asked.

“I know your room number.” You said, smiling towards him.

“I don’t know if I’m ready to go back in there.” You whispered, snuggling closer to Finnick.

You knew the plan, and you knew you had to get Katniss and Peeta out of that arena. Plutarch and Haymitch had made that abundantly clear. There was a Rebellion and Plutarch was on your side, he was hiding in plain sight, ready to take down The Capitol. You jumped at the chance to join, even if that meant sacrificing your own life. Finnick had agreed immediately once he knew you were joining. He had always shared your sentiments about having a better future for everyone.

You wanted a better life, a quiet life with him and you would fight for that every single day. You finally had your chance, and you had no idea if it was going to work but you had to try, you had to fight.

“I know.” He whispered, his thumb gliding across your hip. “I’m not either.”

“When we’re in there …” You muttered, kissing his jaw. “You have to remember that Katniss and Peeta are the most important ones there. Okay? You have to protect them first and everything else comes later.”

He smelt like vanilla, probably from the soap supplied from The Capitol, but it was so soothing to you.

“I … I don’t know if I can do that.” Finnick said, plainly. “I know this Rebellion is important … I know that they are important but they’re not the most important things to me, Y/N. You and Mags will always be far more important than some Rebellion.”

“Finnick.” You felt the lump rise in your throat.

This could be the last time that you two were together, and you weren’t handling it well. You knew you would never be safe again after winning The Games. You were well aware that you would never have peace again, but you didn’t think you would be in this position ever again. You certainly didn’t want to be here with Finnick.

“Let’s just be together right now.” He said, kissing the top of your head. “Let’s pretend that nothing is going to happen tomorrow and we're just laying under the stars and nothing is going to go wrong.” His breathing started to even out, and his heartbeat steadied your own.

“Okay.” You whispered, desperately swallowing. “Okay.”

“Finnick! Katniss!” You cried, chasing them into the woods, Johanna and Peeta on your tail.

The Games hadn’t been going as planned.

First you had been separated from Finnick, which had caused you great distress. You ended up pairing with Johanna, Beetee and Wiress, fighting your way through blood rain and wild beasts.

Then you had lost both Wiress and Mags. You had lost so many who joined The Rebellion, you watched the announcements every night and flinched whenever a cannon fired, wondering if you were losing a friend or foe. But you didn’t have time to grieve either of them, so much was at stake. You had to make it through another night to ensure that you would be saved. Giving up when you were so close wasn’t an option

But God you were so tired.

Then … the jabberjays started.

You hated jabberjays.

They hadn't been used during your games, but you knew they tortured anyone who listened.

You had stepped out to find something food for everyone, and Beetee volunteered to come with you. You were all hungry, and getting weaker, especially after the fight at the cornucopia. You needed some sort of energy, and you weren’t going to see anyone die of starvation.

You had been gone for maybe twenty minutes when you heard Katniss scream, shortly followed by Finnick. Fear had seized your heart, as you wasted no time chasing the sounds, Beetee desperately calling for you.

You weren’t afraid to fight whatever threat was out there … especially when Finnick’s life was on the line. You would gladly die if it meant he lived.

You had met up with everyone, chasing down the other two and when you had found them, screaming, Jabberjays fluttering above them … your voice crying for help … you had cried, desperately trying to reach Finnick but to no avail.

He and Katniss were trapped, writhing on the ground … sobbing and there was nothing you could do but wait.

It had been horrible to watch, you could only imagine what they were experiencing.

You didn’t care who knew anymore, you would scream from the rooftops that you were in love with Finnick, if that meant he would be okay. You needed him to be okay.

It seemed like hours before the Jabberjays had flown away, and you had run to his side in an instant. Holding him close to you, assuring him that you were okay.

“Y/N?” His voice sounded so goddamn small.

“I’m here baby.” You whispered, into his ear, gently rocking the man. “I am here, and I am okay. You’re okay.” You leaned in and kissed his forehead.

You were well aware of the shocked eyes on you, no one but Johanna knew anything about the two of you, and you met the brown eyes of Katniss. She seemed the most shocked out of anyone here. You knew she didn’t particularly like Finnick, she had only really met the persona he portrayed to the world. She didn’t know him like you did, you knew his heart.

“Everything is going to be okay.” You told him. “It’s going to be all okay.”

“He loves them.” Katniss said after a moment of silence, watching the two figures in the water.

She wondered how she could have missed it, all the signs were there yet she had been shocked. She didn’t understand the two, probably never would but that wasn’t really any of her concern.

“Yeah.” Johanna nodded. “They do. They’ve been through a lot together, I’ve known for a long time that those two were together. It’s disgusting really how much they love each other, they would quite literally kill for one another. Can’t blame them though, when you find someone like that you keep them close to your heart.” She shrugged.

“I never thought …” Katniss trailed off.

��That anyone could ever love someone that much?” Johanna questioned, crossing her arms. “Well believe it, Katniss, because it’s right there.”

Katniss moved her gaze away from Johanna and back towards the water, the kiss was short and sweet but in that moment she knew that nothing could break those two apart. Nothing would, and they had something worth fighting for.

#moeswriting #writing #hunger games #the hunger games #finnick odair #finnick odair x reader #angst #fluff #katniss everdeen #johanna mason

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httpshujii · 4 months

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❝ WANTED FOR A FATAL ATTRACTION . . . ❞

CHAPTER Ⅰ :- ATTENTION

C.W. f!reader is an attention seeking thief, mentions of killing & execution, implications of s*x (not detailed/sugar coated), reader labelled as freak. Please let me know if I missed anything!

TAGS :- @lu-naes @coconut36 @briarbabyxo @number1morihater @kaiser1ns (comment or dm if you'd like to be tagged!)

You don't know what you did to get such a large bounty on your head. You never killed, never found pleasure in the thought of it. Sure, you stole from the richest and you didn't bother hiding your acts.

It's amusing, how your delicate fingers can just snatch all sorts of things out of pockets. You'd find it humorous when they did catch you, when you made sure they knew that you stole something valuable.

The way their faces would contort into shock and morph into pure anger. It's an interesting reaction, you don't know why it satisfies you so much to be seen as a criminal, a known thief.

Is it the thrill it brings when doing something so fragile? Is it to prove something? You questioned your motives on more than one occasion. But it all goes down to one reason.

Boothill. An infamous outlaw, mostly works for brokers. You could never be like him, of course, you don't know how to handle arms nor do you know how he manages to eliminate people like some useless digits in an equation. But to be known by as many people as him is a need. A great wish that only the brightest star can grant, and that star sure does love to stay hidden.

You just want to be known. To be seen and to have your face stamped on the alley walls of Penacony, the word 'wanted' stated right above your head in heavy red ink. It's an indescribable urge.

You blame the lack of attention you got in your younger years. No matter how many times it's repeated, people are greedy and love to talk about themselves. You're no different. If anything, you're worse. This idea of belonging to yourself and loving yourself so much to the point where you want everyone to know every small thing about you, is a major derivative to becoming popular. Whether in a good or bad way.

You realized this power at a young age. Getting accused of cheating when you really didn't, but instead of having your belly bubble with rage at such an accusation, you felt seen. For the first time. Kids are straightforward, if you look, talk, or act weirdly, they'll label you as a "freak."

You didn't have friends, nor did you want any. Their a hindrance, nothing but pawns in a game you didn't know you were playing. You don't know why you used to think that, maybe it was cause you felt invisible. You didn't like it, but it was peaceful.

You remember smiling when the girl who accused you hissed you name towards the teacher, and then you grinned when all eyes turned to you. With that reaction, people agreed on your crime, and into punishment you went.

Cleaning the classroom for a week and retaking a harder version of the test. You took your time, enjoyed cleaning, enjoyed thinking. After all, you had no parents to go home to, no friend to visit. You lived relying on your pickpocketing skills. Stealing a sandwich from a distracted merchant, hiding an apple in your bag when looking through a store. Water bottles, sweets, juice, gum, anything you can get your sinister hands on.

You had the right to survive, just like everyone else. Even if your way bended the laws, you still had the right. At least that's what you told yourself.

As you grew up, you got smarter, more daring. Unclasping pearl necklaces from necks of rich women while complimenting them, flirting with drunk merchants that are too drunk to realize you snatch a few wads of credit, too naïve to notice, too blind by honeyed words to care.

You'd steal like it's a nine to five. You wake up every morning in your hidden shack that was an abandoned garage, brush your teeth, ruffle your hair, apply what little perfume you have left from the perfume store that you stole from a few years ago. Cool, peachy, and flowery. The scent would turn heads, only to be met with a sinister grin and a wallet out of their pockets and in your very trusty hands.

You'd buy yourself a meal, keep it packed till you get back to your humble abode.

"I'm home…"

You have no one to go back to. But these words always feel brand new when they roll out of your throat, saddened, somber. You know you'll never come home to see anyone, you'd probably be dead or on the run by the time. Every day, every night, it's the same routine.

You grew to like it, enjoy the loop of similar activities. Up until now.

As if a shock, he came in and rearranged the pattern. Forced himself into your idea of a perfect lifestyle. You're not mad, there's a reason you have his wanted poster plastered right next to your mattress on the wall of your home. You're excited to this sudden change. Giggling, you shove the drunkard you were trying to bribe away, causing him to stumble and knock himself out on the hard floor of the saloon.

You know he's here for you, it's clear with that killer smile on his lips. His hands hanging loosely on his gun holster, you pull your bottom lip into the light grip of your teeth, your smile so wide your lip slips from the caress of your wet tongue against the slightly chapped surface.

There he stands, in all his glory. The one and only Boothill. Mechanical body glinting under the yellow bulbs, complex machinery whispering a repetitive whir of pumps pumping and gears turning. Teeth akin to a shark's pointy and pearly. Pupils that rotate, gun's targets eyeing you up and down.

Under his calculated gaze, you feel seen, heard, and understood all within the span of a few seconds. Everyone around you seems non existent, they cower in the dark corners of the saloon as the predator approaches you in clicking heels on a wooden floor.

He thinks you look like a little girl. With your legs kicking the air softly, your hands resting beneath your thighs as you gaze up at him with nothing but wonder and curiosity. He doesn't know if he likes it, he's used to siren lulls of scandalous dances, spending a few hours to relish in the plush of steamy nights with what people would call models, but to him, nothing but discarded digits of pleasure. He doesn't even know why he participates in such acts. He's not a human anymore, can't feel a warm body against his, it itches him. Not being able to touch and feel and caress. It makes him go crazy, often shooting bullets at aging walls when he thinks about it too much.

He likes you. How different you are to him, how new you are to him. He feels like it's okay to slow down just this once. He takes a seat next to you. Resting his elbow on the wooden bar, his fist cushioning his cheek as his eyes stay locked on you. You imitate him. Staring at him just as intently. With just as much wonder.

"Can I buy you a drink, sugar?"

MASTERLIST ⋮ CHAPTER Ⅱ . . .

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weirdsht · 2 months

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Refreshers - LoTCF & Reader

notes: just a drabble of you cuddling with the kids

tags: ice conjurer reader, gender neutral reader

English isn’t my first language so there will be grammatical errors

Pls don't repost my work anywhere without my permission

Constructive criticisms and any kind of interaction are more than welcome

Requests are open and welcome

Buy Me Dessert

Navigation Masterlist

@chiikasevennn said: reader who naturally has a cold body temperature (ur choice if they're abnormal or magically normal) and then they use em as a cold pad esp the kids when summer because i hate summer (ang init sa pilipinas)

If there are three facts the children averaging nine years old know it’s these three things:

Cale always gets hurt.

Beacrox is in charge of cooking every meal.

_____ body runs the coldest among the people in the underground villa.

This was why when summer rolled around and the kids started feeling hot their first form of action was to go to _____.

“You guys are hot already? It hasn’t even been a week since summer started.”

“It’s super hot nya! You just say that because you can’t feel it!”

Hong retaliated as he cuddled against _____ who was sitting on a rocking chair while reading a book.

“Touché.”

_____ let the two other kids cuddle against them. The kids instantly relaxed as they felt the ice conjurer’s cold skin.

After the kids settle in _____ continued reading their book.

“_____ what are you reading?”

“It’s a novel recommended by your dad– I mean Cale. Do you want to read it?”

Raon thought about it for a few seconds before shaking his head.

“No, it’s too hot. This great and mighty being can also feel the hotness of the weather.”

“Then I guess that great and mighty being should take a nap while using me as a cooling pad.”

The ice conjurer gently poked the toddler’s snout, leaving a snowflake as they did.

Silence followed as the four did their things. On was reading along the novel _____ is reading. Meanwhile, the two younger children had fallen asleep already.

A few more minutes passed and soon even On had fallen asleep. Leaving _____ as the only one awake in the room.

They continued reading their book in silence while rocking the chair gently. A few minutes turned into a few hours but neither _____ nor the kids noticed the time passing.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

A quick but gentle knock from the door pulled the conjurer out of the fantasy novel they were reading.

“Beacrox? Is there anything you need?”

“The young master said you haven’t eaten anything since this morning.”

“Ah!”

_____ gasped softly at the realization.

“I’m sorry it’s just that I was reading and the kids are sleeping on me.”

Only then did Beacrox noticed the three children curled up on _____’s lap.

The chef nodded in understanding at the conjurer’s excuse.

“I’ll make you something easy to eat.”

“I would appreciate that very much.”

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steddieas-shegoes · 10 months

Text

you're not santa

i may or may not be having a small (this is a lie) crisis over liam believing in santa this year? i am 90% certain he doesn't actually believe in santa and just said he does because he thinks the cool gifts come from santa. meanwhile i am just trying to get the vibes on if i need two wrapping papers this year or not for the same amount of gifts. so anyways working through the feelings with putting the idiots in the situation as always, enjoy.

rated t | cw: the mildest innuendo | tags: fluff, modern au, married steddie, steddie dads, the magic of christmas is all of it not just santa etc

🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅

"You better be quieter this year," Steve slapped Eddie's still bare ass as he hurried to throw on his Christmas pajamas. "Almost woke Maddy up last year. You're lucky I was standing by the door."

Eddie rolled his eyes fondly. "Well, maybe if you hadn't turned the-"

"Just go!" Steve laughed, throwing a pillow at him with deadly accuracy.

Eddie threw it back at him with a smirk. "When I get back, I'm giving you your present."

"You already did, Eds."

"No, that was just one of them," Eddie rushed to say before leaving their bedroom and quietly closing the door behind him.

Both bedroom doors were closed across the hall, so he quickly made his way down the stairs to the garage, where all the gifts were hiding since Robin dropped them off earlier that day.

But when Eddie opened the garage door and flipped the light switch, a voice startled him into nearly turning and running.

"I knew it!"

Sammy.

Their oldest son had been acting very suspicious of Santa related discussions for months now, and Steve had warned him that he was getting to an age where a lot of his friends probably didn't believe in Santa anymore.

"Sammy, why aren't you in your bed?" Eddie put his hands on his hips, identical to the way Steve stood when he was about to have a very serious conversation with one of their three kids.

"Because I saw Auntie Rob bring in a big bag earlier and you and Dad were trying to keep us distracted. So I looked out here while you were cleaning up dinner and saw all these presents." Sammy was standing with his hands on his hips, a mirror image to Steve in every way down to the same swoop of hair and freckles across his cheeks. "And all of these say from Santa, but Santa wouldn't have even come here yet because he was in London one hour ago and London is at least four hours from here!"

Eddie bit back a laugh at how Sammy tried to explain his way through the Santa gifts being here.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Eddie asked, dropping his arms and sitting down on the ground, gesturing for Sammy to join him.

"I already know Santa isn't real," Sammy said as he sat, sounding absolutely miserable.

"What do you mean Santa isn't real?" Eddie asked, pretending to be shocked at the revelation.

"Really, pops? You're gonna act like Santa is real?" Sammy got the sass from Steve, too. It was both annoying and adorable. "I'm seeing the evidence that he isn't with my own eyes."

"Look, Sammy, can I call you Sammy?" Eddie smiled when Sammy let out a laugh. "Santa as you know him isn't real, you're right. But there is a Santa. He's just so busy and can't do it all in one night, so he has presents delivered early for some people, like you and your brother and sister. But he can't ruin the magic, so he left them at Auntie Rob's house for safekeeping."

It sounded airtight. Any kid who wanted to believe in Santa would definitely believe that.

"Dad. Seriously." Sammy was giving him The Look. "I'm nine years old. I have straight As. I'm not stupid."

Which was something Eddie knew of course. He was endlessly proud of all of his super smart kids who did a million times better in school than he and Steve ever did.

But he didn't think believing in Santa was a sign of a kid not being smart.

"You're smart enough to learn the truth, which is that Santa gives the parents a lot more control than we let you think. Don't you think it would be harder to get Maddy to do her homework if I said 'Dad will take a present away' instead of 'Santa is watching to make sure you do your homework'?"

Sammy looked out at the garage, the clutter of children's outdoors toys and broken Christmas decorations and bulk snacks for lunchboxes scattered around.

"So he just gives you the toys when he thinks we've been good enough for them?" Sammy asked, still sounding unsure.

"Exactly! And he usually delivers them a couple weeks early so we can make sure they're wrapped and ready for tomorrow."

"So why keep it all a secret?"

Damn Sammy for always being two steps ahead of Eddie.

"It's more fun this way! Olivia was so excited to leave out cookies before bed, remember? If we told her this, she wouldn't even get to be excited about Rudolph eating the carrots, right?"

"So Rudolph is...real?"

"Okay, that one might be a lie," Eddie gave in on that to sell the rest of it. That's what you had to do with Sammy.

"So who eats the carrots?"

"I take bites and spit them in the trash. You know I hate carrots."

"Why don't you make Dad do it?" Sammy leaned against Eddie's side, letting out a long yawn. He was probably sitting out here for the last couple of hours waiting. He had to be exhausted.

"Dad did a lot of that stuff when you were really little. For five whole years before we switched."

"So he sleeps while you bring out all the presents?"

Eddie's face went red as he thought about what Steve was probably doing in their room right now.

"Yep! He did a lot of baking and stuff all day today so I let him rest," Eddie wrapped an arm around Sammy as his weight became heavier against him. "I think you should probably get some rest, too. Santa wouldn't want your Christmas morning ruined because you stayed up all night."

"I guess." Sammy yawned again. "Can I sleep on the couch?"

"You know Dad's rule. Bedrooms only on Christmas."

"Yeah, but that was for the secret. Now I know."

"But Maddy and Olivia don't. We have to keep this a secret from them, okay?" Eddie paused when he heard some footsteps directly above them. His brows furrowed.

"Maybe Santa forgot one?" Sammy asked, perking up.

"Maybe. Better get to your bed so he doesn't see that you're awake," Eddie nudged him.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Sammy was rushing out of the garage and up the stairs to his bedroom.

Eddie looked above him, but no more bumps could be heard.

After setting all the presents under the tree in a mostly organized fashion, Eddie got back to the bedroom, where Steve was fast asleep.

He got into bed carefully, not wanting to wake him up, but Steve's eyes blinked open slowly as he curled up under the comforter.

"Took you too long," Steve whispered.

"Sammy."

"What?" Steve's eyes opened all the way and tears were instantly filling them. "Does he know?"

"Sh," Eddie pulled Steve against his chest and ran his hands through his soft hair. "I'll tell you tomorrow. Sleep, love."

"Eds-"

They heard a small bump on the roof and then silence.

Steve sat up and looked out the bedroom window, then back at Eddie.

"What was that?"

"Must've been Santa," Eddie teased.

Steve rolled his eyes.

They both stayed up for a bit longer to make sure no other noises happened outside, but fell asleep when there was nothing.

🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅

The next morning, all three kids jumped into their bed, yelling about how many presents Santa brought them and how full their stockings were.

Steve and Eddie made their way downstairs, rubbing their eyes as the kids pushed them down on the couch while they started grabbing gifts.

By the end, the kids were so busy playing with new toys, they didn't notice one more present hiding between the fireplace and the tree. Eddie reached over for it, not recognizing the wrapping paper.

"Did Robbie say she was getting them something else?" he asked, holding the gift out to Steve.

"Nope," Steve took it, checked the tag, then handed it back to Eddie with a shrug. "Says it's for you."

Wayne wouldn't be bringing his gifts for everyone over until that afternoon, so who could this one even be from?

He opened it carefully, worried that it was a prank by Steve and the kids. It wouldn't be the first time they managed to pull off a prank gift.

The confusion only increased when he pulled out a small plastic replica of the London Bridge.

"You don't even like London that much. Who got you that?" Steve asked, resting his head on Eddie's shoulder.

"No idea."

Sammy looked up at them over the new book about planets he got and beamed.

"Santa brought you a present!"

Eddie was suddenly reminded of their conversation last night, how Sammy insisted Santa was just in London and couldn't possibly have made it here.

Eddie had seen a lot of weird things in his life, had ignored a lot of them and passed them up to weird coincidence, but this was different.

He set the replica on the table by the couch and wrapped an arm around Steve's shoulders, kissing the top of his head as he leaned further into him.

"Santa?" Steve asked.

"Must've been a good boy this year," Eddie smiled.

"Uh-huh. I'm sure you were," Steve kissed his cheek before turning back to watch their kids playing on the floor.

Maybe Eddie would have to write a letter to Santa next year to thank him for the gift.

#steddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #stranger things #steddie dads #drabble #christmas #fluff

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myths-tournaments · 10 months

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Awful Characters Semi-finals (1/2)

Propaganda under the cut!

IANTHE TRIDENTARIUS

Her number one hobby is ruining every person's that she knows life. Her second hobby is being soooo slutty about it despite looking like a literal wet rat. Her third hobby is having an extremely unhealthy relationship with her twin. Her other hobbies include cannibalism, wearing a maid outfit, being extremely convinced she is the main character, the badboy sexy love interest and the villain. 'Why', you may ask. Well, the answer is, for shits and giggles #justgirlythings i, aswell as literally everybody else in the fandom have gone through the pipeline from hating her to desperately wanting to fuck her. expect for i still fucking hope she dies and doesn't come back for good. (that would literally solve all of everybody's problems) as god intended (EXPECT FOR. one of her hobbies literally is gaslighting god) She is fucking horrible i will love her until i die and even after that

parks and recs jean ralphio voice she's the woooorst!! The moment she learns she has to kill someone to become a Lyctor (aka a more special necromancer), she doesn't hesitate to kill and cannibalize the guy who has been her cavalier since childhood… cavalier who she also totally bullied as kids, she was allowed to choose one guest for her and her twin sister's birthday party each year, and she would always pick whoever she thought her cavalier didn't want to see there! While other characters are shown to regret the process of becoming a Lyctor (which involves someone close to them dying)/were forced into it because of circumstances, Ianthe has absolutely no regrets, she believes she did what she had to do

The author once said of Ianthe: "I don't think she's been nice to anyone, if she has I'll go back and change it." She killed and ate the soul of someone she has known all her life so that she could become a necromantic saint and tormented him plenty before that. General negging, ganging up against him, always inviting people he didn't like to their birthday parties. She doesn't regret killing him. I think she is repulsed by the idea that his digested soul is affecting hers. She helped her crush lobotomise herself so she would be in Ianthe's debt, and later lied and said she didn't see the corpse of a woman her crush killed under her bed (why did she do that? I do not know). She has a bone arm because her original arm was cut off, she hated the replacement so her crush cut THAT off and grew her a new one out of just bones. She had it gilded and only after that did she decide to help her crush deal with the person who had been repeatedly trying to kill her. She wants so badly to be the main character but people keep interrupting her villain monologues.

she has her own content warning tag

She's such a bitch to everyone all the time, she causes nothing but problems, she tries to do a villain speech but fumbles it because her tummy hurt, she is the awfulgirl of all time

AZULA

Azula explicitly considers herself a monster. She says needlessly cruel things to her brother and friends. She kills the show's twelve-year-old protagonist and masterminds the idea of burning down the entire Earth Kingdom to force them to submit to Fire Nation rule. I have absolutely seen people get called abuse apologists for thinking she's a cool character. But she's also a (canonically) mentally ill fourteen-year-old who was raised by her father to see her ability to be weaponized as her only value. Her mother, arguably the only adult in her life who could have had a positive impact, had a strained relationship with her because she was more difficult than her brother, and then disappeared when she was nine. Her uncle, who was her brother's main healthy role model, took absolutely no interest in her. She watched her father belittle her brother for years and eventually throw him away when he failed to meet his expectations, so that was a threat she was always facing. She really had no chance. And she also has moments that suggest she wants some sort of meaningful connection with another person. She lets her brother take credit for killing the Avatar so he can come back from exile, even though it means she'll be bumped back in the order of succession and offers him advice that seems genuine. Her spiral into a mental breakdown starts when her friends betray her. She's just a much more interesting and multifaceted than a lot of the fandom gives her credit for.

#awful characters tournament #tournament poll #awful characters round 5 #awful characters semifinals #the locked tomb #tlt #ianthe tridentarius #avatar the last airbender #atla #azula

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bright-and-burning · 4 months

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🐑 send me a fake set of fic tags, and I’ll try to come up with a summary for it! !!!! OOOh okay. if you're up for it(!), then: #Canon Divergent #There Was Only Ten Beds #Magical Realism #Bondage #Light Decapitation

a lobby with nine hundred windows | lando/oscar, M

#canon divergence, #there was only ten beds, #magical realism, #bondage, #light decapitation

The first sign of something going really, terribly, desperately wrong is subtle, honestly. So subtle, Oscar hadn’t thought anything of it. Brakes catch fire all the time, Max was due for some bad luck; nothing more, nothing less. The explosion bit was a little weird, a little larger than usual, but that was easily explained away. The second sign, the air going wavy and thick around him as he exited the car, is almost equally subtle. Waking up to Lando holding a knife to his throat, however, is not. Australia has a lot to answer for.

not only did i come up with a summary for it. i also uh. wrote it. it's wild what breaks through writers block 😭 so thank u for this strange and lovely tag combo. here's 1700 words of. idek what. something completely and utterly different from anything else i've ever written, that's for sure!

tw for mild description of violence

Oscar wakes, slow and groggy, to a warm weight on his chest, limiting his breaths. He blinks the sleep out of his eyes and goes from half-asleep to wide-awake in milliseconds, Lando looming over him, perched on his chest. Knife at his throat.

“Lando, what the fuck?”

Oscar struggles, feeling returning to his limbs, the restraints around his wrists and ankles making themselves known.

Lando presses him further into the bed, eyes wide. He shifts his gaze around the room, frenetic, never keeping Oscar out of sight for long. Oscar’s hyperaware of the cool edge of metal against his skin. The thump of blood through his carotid is loud in his ears.

“Tell me something only you would know.”

“What the fuck are you doing?”

“Oscar, I need you to trust me.” Lando leans in further, so close Oscar has to fight against the urge to cross his eyes. “Tell me something no one else knows.”

Oscar thinks, hard. Lando’s face is more serious than he’s ever seen it before.

“The backs of your thighs are weirdly ticklish?”

Lando releases a little of the pressure, but stays leaned over Oscar, considering.

“At least three other people know that. Something else. Please.” His voice cracks, and with it, his expression, desperation on display.

Oscar reaches to touch him, to soothe the visible ache. The material wrapped tight around his wrist snaps taut before he can even get close. Lando notices the aborted motion, and shifts forward again.

“Oscar, think.”

Oscar wracks his brain, turning over all the stones labeled Lando in his head, looking for something novel, something truly secret. Carefully considers the little cut-off wheezy sounds Lando makes when he’s just come, the half-filled sketchbooks shoved in a drawer, his secret sleeping spot at the MTC. Discards each one, heart rate slowing now that Oscar has a task to focus on, before remembering—

“You’ve been stealing my shampoo!” Oscar says, too loud for the odd room they’re in.

“No I ha- How did you know that?”

Oscar shrugs as best as he can in the restraints.

“I realized I was running out too fast. And you smell like me sometimes. Noticed after Vegas, I think.”

Lando’s face does something complicated, flashing from shifty to smug to sheer relief. He tosses the knife to the ground with a clatter, and collapses onto Oscar.

“Thank fuck, Osc, holy shit,” he says, shoulders shaking.

“Can I get some answers now? Like why you had a knife at my throat?”

Lando sits back up, nearly knocking his head into Oscar’s chin. His face is wet. Oscar remembers his restraints, and does not go to wipe his tears. He climbs off the bed, disappearing out of Oscar’s limited line of sight, and pops back up with said knife.

“Let me get you out of here first. Before things get wobbly again.”

“Wobbly?”

Lando ignores his question, focused on getting Oscar out of the straps. His hands are shaking nearly too bad to unknot anything; the knife lays unused, for fear of accidentally cutting something else. It takes minutes for Oscar’s right hand to be freed.

“Give me that,” Oscar gestures for the knife.

Lando hands it over without protest, and Oscar cuts through the remaining straps in quick order.

When Oscar is fully freed, Lando immediately pulls him into a hug tight enough to bruise.

“God, Osc. I thought I’d never see you again.”

Oscar pats him on the back, gentle. Lets him cling on, face tucked into his neck, quiet, shuddering exhales tickling his skin. Just when Oscar opens his mouth to ask any of the million questions, Lando pulls away and tugs him towards the door.

“I think it’ll be easier now that I’ve found the real you,” Lando says, opening the door. The light beyond is nearly blinding in comparison to the dim lit room they’re leaving behind. Lando steps out, hand still tight on Oscar’s. Oscar follows.

“The real me?”

They’re standing in a long hallway now, lined with doors of different shapes and sizes. Oscar turns slightly, to look at the one they’ve just left. It’s a simple metal door in a metal frame, a neon yellow handle the only distinguishing feature.

Every fifth door or so is the same. Simple metal, neon yellow handle. The rest have no pattern, as far as Oscar can tell. Here’s a frosted glass door stretching the full height of the corridor, and then a mini-van door with flame decals on the bottom. Here’s a mahogany double door several inches shorter than Lando, followed by a door Oscar could swear is Mark’s front door.

Lando speaks up, drawing his attention away from the oak door with the familiar mail slot. He nods to the door they just left.

“That’s the tenth one I’ve tried. Every other Oscar hasn’t passed the test.”

Oscar’s blood goes cold.

“How did you know,” He stops, unsure how to phrase his question.

“To check?”

Oscar nods.

“The first one was…” Lando pauses. Shivers at something only in his mind. “He was just wrong. I dunno. Didn’t smile right, or something. Like that valley thing.”

Lando’s clearly leaving something unsaid, some bigger reason to put a knife under Oscar’s chin, but he looks like he’s about to start shaking again. Oscar leaves it be, for now. Until they get out of this mess.

“And that’s when you…” Oscar holds up the knife.

Lando nods jerkily.

“I mean, one minute I was on the podium, the next the world went wobbly and I was here. I started opening doors, just trying to get out. Saw a lot of freaking weird shit, okay,” his voice is creeping higher, more defensive with each word, “and then I saw you, and then you weren’t you, and I-“ Lando deflates. “I freaked out, a little.”

“And then you, what, stabbed him?” Oscar tries to keep his voice even. Fails a little, maybe. Lando isn’t meeting his eyes.

“I sort of. Slithistthroat.”

“Sorry?”

Lando clears his throat. He’s tense, shoulders high around his ears, body twisted like he’s ready to bolt.

“Slit his throat.” Lando’s voice tilts up like it’s a question. It’s not.

Oscar stares.

“I freaked out a lot.”

And then he did it eight more times, from the sounds of it. Oscar can’t even imagine. Going from room to room, bed to bed. Waking Lando up, over and over, just to find something terrible in his place. Having to kill something shaped like him, time and time again, with no idea where the real him is. No idea if he’s making a mistake.

Oscar eyes the knife, looking closer. Looking for a distraction in the minutiae.

“It’s, uhm. Clean?”

“They disappear, after. That’s how I knew that I- That’s how I knew.”

That’s how he knew he hadn’t made a mistake, he means. That he hadn’t killed the real Oscar.

“Oh. That’s good, then. That they disappear.”

“Not- not right away.”

Lando looks haunted, briefly. He shakes his head, and starts moving, pulling Oscar along again.

Oscar changes the subject.

“Any idea what we’re looking for?”

“Not exactly,” Lando draws out the vowels. They’re still holding hands. Oscar is thankful for Lando’s tight grip on him, a tether to reality. A reminder that they’re both real. For both of them. “Was mostly hoping if I found the right you things would clear up.”

“Oh, brilliant.”

Lando squeezes his hand and keeps moving, walking much faster than normal.

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

“Getting out of the car.” Oscar squints, picking over his memories. “Going to get weighed, maybe?”

They pass a sliding glass door. The interior is distorted, but it looks like his back door. From home, in Melbourne. Oscar’s chest goes a little tight looking at it, but it doesn’t feel quite right. Nothing like the growing pull towards the end of the hall, and maybe Lando was right about things clearing up. They keep moving. The pull keeps growing.

“D’you feel that?”

Oscar nods. “It’s gotta be coming up.”

Whatever it is, at least.

A quick glance at Lando’s tense face and Oscar knows he’s not alone in that thought.

Lando stops, so abrupt Oscar’s hand nearly slips from his hold.

“Somewhere around here, you think?”

Oscar steps closer, threading his fingers back through Lando’s. He closes his eyes and focuses on the magnetic pull, tugging at some place behind his sinuses. He turns, slow, careful to keep Lando in his grasp, until something clicks into place.

The pressure releases, like ears popping on a flight. Lando makes a weird noise, some kind of suppressed squeak. Oscar opens his eyes.

The other doors have disappeared, leaving only one: three feet away, right in front of them.

It’s plain. Wood, this time, painted white, set in a plain frame. Empty but for a sign with their names on it.

Oscar turns to Lando.

His eyes are wide and searching.

“This has gotta be it, right?”

“Don’t think we have much of a choice now.”

They step forward in unison. Oscar puts his hand on the doorknob, and pauses.

“Just for luck,” he says, and turns, quick as lightning, to kiss Lando.

Just a press of lips, over as soon as it began, Oscar turning back to the door.

Lando makes a noise, deep in the back of his throat, and spins Oscar bodily by the shoulders.

“Just for luck?” He asks, twitchy all over, and pulls Oscar down against him for another, quick until it’s not, both unable to stay apart for long.

They kiss, slow and steady, reassuring, until the pressure in the back of Oscar’s skull starts building again, an incessant reminder that they need to leave.

They break apart.

Oscar twists the knob, watching Lando instead of the door, and opens it, stepping through without looking. Making sure Lando follows.

The door slams behind them.

They’re in another corridor, long and full of doorways, to Oscar’s despair.

Lando starts laughing, tinged with an edge of hysteria.

Oscar opens his mouth to reassure him, and fails. What if there are more Oscars? God, what if there are Landos?

“It’s Hilton, Oscar, it’s freaking Hilton.” He spins around, arms outstretched, before slamming back into Oscar.

“D’you feel that?“ He whispers into Oscar’s shoulder.

“No?” Oscar’s still in shock, a little.

“Exactly, Osc. No pull, no pressure, no caddy valley. We’re fucking free, baby.”

#fully unedited no second pass no nothing just me locking in for a few hours completely unintentionally. so if u notice anything. shrug #is it in character? girl idk. does it make sense? well. maybe!#mine.fic #i GUESS #mine #8104 #ln #op #ask #writing game #a lobby with nine hundred windows dot ao3

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crazylittlejester · 2 months

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I can ask you for some wars fix recs plz

I don’t read a whole lot of fanfiction because i just don’t have time or energy these days to actually read. BUT!! I can point you in the direction of people i know who write wars fics/wars fics i have read and remember lmao (people who see this feel free to comment or reblog with fic recs 🫶) click the underlined shit for links, and my apologies in advance for tagging every single person who wrote a wars fic i read in the past 4 months 🧍‍♂️

- i have 35 fics on my ao3 (Can_Opener) tagged with “Wars centric”. i primarily write Wars stuff, tho all of my fics are currently locked and are only visible to registered users because FUCK ai. I’ll make em public again once the ai thing ain’t an issue anymore, but for now they’re only visible to registered users

- Something Is Better Than Nothing (Try) by @rosadon3, summary: "He sat down and pulled the orange from his bag, running his hands over the skin, twisting it around so he could check every inch. It was safe. It was always safe. Why did he have to worry so much?" It's "projecting my insecurities onto my blorbos" hours.

- Yellow Potion by @gryphonlover, summary: Warriors struggles with eating enough food and drinking enough water for a variety of reasons, which has the unfortunate result of causing him to feel faint and sometimes even pass out. Good thing his brothers have his back.

- @catreginae has a fic where Wars is a vampire which I’ve been MEANING to read because it sounds cool as FUCK but I haven’t yet, but Wars angst writers support Wars angst writers so here is a link to the fic Thou Shalt Not Fall, and here is a link to their ao3

- @hyruledwarriorr has some good stuff, here’s a link to their ao3. He’s got a couple fics posted, some modern au stuff where Wars is a language teacher if I’m remembering right? and other good fics. I haven’t read em all yet but i enjoyed the ones I did!

- @maaarsbaars also has two wars fics that I’ve read, THIS ONE about Wars and PTSD, and THIS ONE where Wars has a feeding tube. here’s a link to their ao3

- and then there’s Numbered by @elle-rosewater which was absolutely FUCKING devastating and i threw my phone across the room at the end and had to stare at the wall for a bit to fucking recover. If you like plot twists, by GOD is this the fucking fic for you, i had to call my fiancee at like 10 pm and scream about it to them because i didn’t know what else to do with myself 😭 11/10 fic, will read again when I have the mental strength to go through it again KNOWING how it ends. AND IT’S PART OF A SERIES?? I BELIEVE?? anyways this is the summary: Some years after the end of the nine-hero adventure, Time was offered the chance to visit Warriors again. There was no way he was going to turn that down, no matter how odd the circumstances were.

thats all i can remember for right now, there are some good ones im remembering the plot of but not the actual titles, but hopefully people see this and can give you even more fic recs!!

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu fic recs #lu warriors #lu wars #jes talks #jes ask

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utilitycaster · 7 months

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The thing I've realized, in the broader Actual Play space, is that a lot of creators are trying to turn Actual Play shows into TV shows.

You mentioned Kollok in your tags, and the creator of that has mentioned creating Kollok in a way to try to appeal to the Netflix audience.

And I'm all for experimentation, but tbh if I wanted to watch a TV show, I would go watch a TV show. That's not what I'm looking for in an Actual Play and over editing and gimmicks actively turn me off from it.

Folks creating Actual Play seem to put a lot of weight on it, but I don't know if it's that important from an audience perspective.

Hey anon,

Huge same - I've been thinking about this for a while, especially in regards to choices I didn't like (notably on D20, though the Candela split screen in chapter 3, while relatively minor, felt like part of the same trend and I'm really interested in seeing whether they keep it). I actually did mean to write more about this not in the tags of a reblog, so thanks for this ask because it gives me that motivation to do it!

Earlier this year I was at an event and someone who to be totally honest I found kind of annoying was talking about Dimension 20, and I decided to keep quiet and listen to what other people had to say, and another person (whom I respect and specifically know to be like, left-leaning and inclusive and not gatekeeper dudebro type, which is relevant to the next statement) who is solidly in Gen X and has been playing D&D since at least 2e mentioned that he doesn't like Actual Play at all because he is from the era where D&D was frequently played in third person and is somewhat of a purist in that sense. Ie, this guy would say "Gawain pulls out his sword and smites the dragon, with a 24 to hit", rather than "I'm going to pull out my sword and smite the dragon." He described his idea of D&D as being very much collaborative storytelling in the sense of a bunch of third person narrators who happen to be the storytellers for one specific character, not a first-person acted scene.

I happen to like both forms of narration and am not a purist either way, and indeed use both third person and first person myself as a player (as do many actual players; you see this on CR and D20 all the time). But I think this does show just how broad this spectrum is. You have people all the way on the "I am narrating an improvised story, I am the storyteller puppeting my character and I am not trying to be immersed" side and then you have shows that are trying to push this into full immersion...but so long as you have dice rolls, you'll never achieve it.

I prefer something in between: I do love watching people act, but I really like the gears and wires! I love mechanics! I think people who say "I love actual play D&D but I don't really care for combat, only RP" don't actually like actual play D&D! This is a specific format and I do not want people to hide the fact that they are using the rules of a game and are at a table, because they are and we know it.

This came up when I and others talked about the Legend of Vox Machina adaptation: they're probably going to have to find a way to convey the same tragedy and gravity of Scanlan's ninth level counterspell that doesn't require viewers to know the mechanics, because if you watch that scene as actual play the meaning of Sam saying "Nine" is immediately apparent. It hits hard with that one single word, but that won't be the case in an animated adaptation where no one is rolling a D20. Mechanics are in intrinsic part of actual play. You can enjoy actual play without that knowledge, but a solid grounding in those mechanics will only enhance that enjoyment (well, unless you're one of those rules-lawyery weirdos who gets bitter about any GM rule of cool/homebrew that they couldn't predict from the rulebooks but those people will never be happy).

The more general context of "being in a game", not just mechanics, is also in my opinion valuable. Brennan, on a Worlds Beyond Number fireside chat, referred to certain NPCs like Caramelinda as "furious that they are in a D&D game" and it's a funny and true statement. I feel like trying to push actual play into the realm of scripted shows is that: it feels like you're trying to hide the origins, and I think the quality of the show will ultimately suffer when you do that. It feels almost ashamed of what it is, and I don't think you can make something that transforms a medium/genre/thing in between the two without having a profound love and respect for the original, even if you also find it flawed. (This is also, tbh, how I feel about a lot of attempts to divorce D&D from the fact that it is ultimately a game influenced heavily by sword-and-sorcery fantasy, or about attempts to turn high or heroic fantasy into something that neatly affirms all of one's 2024 real world political beliefs, but that's another post).

I also think that the out-of-character element of actual play is a big draw. I have been open about having complicated feelings about the parasocial and projection aspects; but those feelings are "hey, this is still a show that is a source of livelihood, you are not hanging out in someone's living room and getting weird about the fact that the CR cast no longer responds to every tweet is dumb" and "you have not been betrayed by the creators because you didn't get the plot you wanted," and "the fact that two actors sit next to each other is not, in fact, a solid basis for shipping." I am equally opposed to the idea of "the actors do not exist, only the characters do," put forward in that attempt to make actual play Netflix-ready. It's fun to watch the CR cast rib Travis for turning bright red for, as people said, pretend kissing his real wife. It's fun to watch the Intrepid Heroes heckle Brennan when he plays a villain. It's fun to hear Aabria and Erika scream at WBN plot developments and for the McElroys or the NADDPod crew to wheeze with laughter and all of these shows but CR are to a degree edited, and all leave that element in, which I think says something really important about what actual play is understood to be!

It does not escape me that the seasons/shows using heavier camera edits have often, in my opinion, sacrificed story quality for a visual style I don't even care for. I do watch prestige television, and one of the more striking cinematographic choices I've seen lately are the extremely long single take shots used on both Succession's final season (Connor's Wedding, 4x03) and The Bear's first season (Review, 1x07). Prestige TV is not doing the glitchy Neverafter stuff. Hell, I liked Sagas of Sundry: Dread and never finished Madness before it went offline and haven't made an effort to seek it out specifically because the black box theater feel of Dread felt fun and new but not too removed from actual play vibes, whereas the higher production values of Madness, ironically, made it feel too artificial and stilted to keep my interest.

Actual play is its own beast, and in trying to appeal to a new audience you're probably going to lose a lot of the one you have. A big part of why I haven't been motivated to check out Kollok is that everything I hear about it, even positive reviews, makes it sound like it's missing the things I like from actual play and doesn't achieve the level of scripted shows. Honestly I think the REAL answer here is that if you want to find a space between a Netflix drama and an Actual Play show, ditch the rules and make stuff like Midst, which is as discussed inspired by ttrpg/actual play spaces, but is broadly plotted out in advance. I think that approach can combine the best of both worlds, whereas I feel as though attempting to be a Netflix show will usually spend so much time trying to hide the fact that there's a table there that it will detract from the actual story.

#answered #Anonymous #i should probably watch an ep of kollok before passing full judgment #but like...god. everything i hear about it makes me go oh god they massacred my boy #long post #on actual play

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animatedjen · 3 months

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I'm curious, how long does it usually take you to take a picture in Survior? You post quite a bit, so I'd honestly be very interested in hearing about your overall process if ur willing to share. What decides what picture u take? Do u ever use the lights? (I have the vaguest knowledge about how to light subjects and I just can't get it propely in my head, so I personally find that a bit difficult, tbh. Both irl and otherwise.) Do u do something w them outside of the in game photomode, aside from cropping? Do u ever consciously think about composition like the golden ratio or the 3x3 grid? Do you spend a lot of time setting them up or is it more spontaneous? I'd love to know just bc I find myself very fascinated by them and I'd like to know what goes into them (:

- @frunbuns

Love these questions @frunbuns! Though I do genuinely wonder if I'm posting too much sometimes 🫠 Both because A) I don't want to swamp the Jedi tags, and B) it probably means I'm playing Survivor instead of sleeping and that's... not helpful haha.

Answers under the cut!

What decides what picture u take? Do you spend a lot of time setting them up or is it more spontaneous? - Sometimes I'll have a very specific idea (like the Cal silhouette photo or these portraits of Bode) so everyone gets posed and lit very intentionally. But most photos are "discovered" while exploring the environments, watching different character animations, etc. I'm constantly pausing and zooming in with photomode to see what a moment looks like.

I want to make a video tutorial that walks through the entire process (because describing this stuff with words is a struggle) so let me know if you have any specific questions!

Deciding on a photo theme or goal is helpful though. If I want to take photos of Cal and Merrin fighting together, I'll obnoxiously follow Merrin around and make sure Cal is near her while attacking the Jedha patrols. There'll be a bunch of duds and a few cool moments (and a bit of electrocution, sorry Cal)

Do u ever use the lights? - Always! The lights make a huge difference in photomode, but I know they're tricky to use. I posted a mini tutorial on lighting recently, but it goes through general concepts rather than any technical how-to. Definitely want to break down the process more in a video tutorial.

Do u do something w them outside of the in game photomode, aside from cropping? - I'll edit my favorite photos by adding more contrast, either from the built-in phone app or a photo editing software. This ask has a good before/after example.

Do u ever consciously think about composition like the golden ratio or the 3x3 grid? - Sometimes! I've been in the photo/video industry for almost nine years (oof that makes me feel old) so a lot of that experience probably shows up in my photomode compositions. I like shooting IRL portraits with a telephoto lens, so these virtual portraits are almost always at 3x-4x zoom to mimic that look.

Hope some of this is helpful! Survivor's photomode is really fun and I love seeing how other people use it 🙌

#wonder if streaming a photomode session would be fun??#I've never streamed before but it sounds like a fun way to teach some of this #asks #photomode asks #jedi survivor #merrin #nightsister merrin #photomode

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veryace-ficrecs · 9 months

Text

Sanlu Fic Recs

This list will include all ratings and tags, so read at your own discretion! :)

Midnight Snacks by ClockedInside - Rated G

Sanji finds himself baking a cake with his captain at twelve am. He's not upset about it in the slightest.

burnt orange by zo_glassy - Rated T

Luffy wasn’t exactly sure when, but he had been caught staring, and then a plump fruit was being held close to his mouth. Yet at that moment, he’d been unable to tear his eyes away, teeth grazing soft fingertips as he nibbled the orange flesh in a daze. The fruit bursts in his tongue, the sour-sweetness enveloping his senses. He recalls the clear juice that had trickled down the pale wrist, the twinkle of blue eyes winking at him mischievously. "Our secret, don't tell Nami-san." — In which Luffy is clueless, and Nami and Usopp take it upon themselves to play cupid. Happy (belated) valentines day!

The King's Cook: On Love Languages and Adoration by onceuponaneverafter - Rated T

Sanji cooked for everyone. Never not in the kitchen making or preparing something. He never said "Love yous" or "Missed yous" but he always cooked everyone's favourites, and never let a soul go hungry. Luffy notices, and after watching and observing and learning, he decides Sanji deserves to be cooked for too. Or, Luffy loves his crew and knows they have worth, and Sanji needs to be reminded that means him too.

Moment In The Sun by Harubo - Rated T

“So… you’re not a knight at all.” “I don’t know what it means to be a knight,” Luffy shrugged, “But I saw you and I wanted to be by your side and now I am. Zeff says being a knight means caring for someone more than you care for yourself. So I guess I’m a knight.”

The Captain's Cook by three_days_late - Rated G

He would do whatever it took to keep Sanji by his side. He would give him whatever he wanted, do anything he asked, just as long as Sanji stayed with him. Sanji was the cook of the Straw Hat pirates, and Luffy would accept no other.

Kindness around the stations by purplefox - Rated T

Luffy is a troublesome little brother but he is kind. Are Sabo and Ace cool with their little brother disappearing into the city and getting involved with a royal? Not so much but they doubt they can pry Luffy away. He seems gone on the blonde royal who cooks and feeds Luffy what he makes.

A Wedding to Remember by GalacticSaz - Rated T

Sanji is waiting at the alter for his future wife to strut in and ruin his life. But, his captain never was any good at leaving them alone in their time of need. So, why did he think that today would be any different?

Growing Pains by grayimperia - Rated G

Luffy’s grandpa was well over nine feet tall and wide as a barn. Other than the occasional fist of love, this had no bearing on Luffy’s life until it suddenly did. Sanji frowned, reaching out to press a hand to the top of Luffy’s head. “Am I going crazy or have you gotten taller?” “If I get bigger, will you still carry me and cook for me and do my laundry and help me wash my hair?” “Yes, you overgrown child—even if you’re more overgrown.” - Luffy gets a growth spurt.

Our Way To Be (And How Everyone Sees Us) by aririnas - Rated G

Five situations where the mugiwara see the strange relationship between Luffy and Sanji. And one in which someone realizes the reality.

Honey Hold Me by Harubo - Rated T

When his captain burst out of the wedding cake, screaming furiously that Sanji was his husband, all hell broke loose at the Whole Cake Chateau. (Snippets of a love story between the cook and his captain, the captain and his cook)

Anchor by Trixree - Rated T

It is said that dreams are shared between soulmates. Luckily, the Vinsmoke children do not dream. (Except, of course, for the failure.)

A Gentle Tide by teaandtumblr - Rated G

When it came to people, and creatures, on the Grand Line, Sanji knew that Luffy was one of the toughest ones. He’d known it ever since their first meeting. Luffy was made of rubber but he may as well have been made of iron for how strong he was. Which was why Sanji was so surprised to find Luffy’s weakness to be what it was: Gentleness.

It's Called Falling by Trixree - Rated M

So many bad choices have led up to this moment, standing in the walk-in fridge with his face buried in his hands to choke back what could either be a scream or hysterical laughter, contemplating the Not A Date he’s landed himself, and Sanji cannot fathom how to begin to undig this hole.

Too Bright to See by grayimperia - Rated T

Luffy’s eyes are unfocused as he smiles at Sanji. Robin takes a measured sip of her coffee in the same amount of time it takes Luffy to bite clear through half of his sandwich. Sanji swipes a few napkins off the table and sets about wiping crumbs from Luffy’s face. “I’m so sorry about him, Robin-chan.” “It’s quite alright,” she says. And it is because there is something very sweet about the scene in front of her. Robin smiles. One out of seven lights click on. - Luffy, Sanji, the Straw Hats, and how it takes time to notice the obvious.

Easy as Anything, Simple as That by Trixree - Rated T

“Luffy? What’s the matter?” “We’re gonna’ have a wedding,” he says incomprehensibly. Which—no. Absolutely not. Haven’t they had enough of weddings, lately? Nami's certainly had enough for a lifetime, thanks. “What are you talking about? What wedding?” she demands as coherently as she can while running on only two-and-a-half hours of sleep. “Mine and Sanji’s,” Luffy declares.

That's One Heck of a Gatcha Prize by anarchycox - Rated T

Zeff forces Sanji to take an actual day off from the Baratie and Sanji goes to the street fair/carnival going on. He plays a silly game to win a stuffed animal. He didn't expect to win a Luffy.

face the sun by zo_glassy - Rated M

the summer sun a halo behind his head, and his own ears are completely singed by the heat of the other’s affections.

he learns that Luffy’s warmth, golden-red and burning, may take some getting used to.

(in which Sanji's vulnerable to his captain's flattery.)

#veryace recs #black leg sanji #monkey d. luffy #one piece #one piece sanlu #sanlu #strawhat pirates #one piece fanfiction #ao3 fic recs #fanfic recs #ao3 #red leg zeff #sanji and zeff

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storywriter007 · 2 months

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hii could u pls do a leo valdez x daughter of nyx!reader ? :)) ty and take your time!!

also your other leo valdez fic doesnt show when u look through the tags 🤔

I'm Always With You - Leo Valdez x Fem!Reader

author's note: (i re-added the tags, so fingers crossed, it'll work now.) anyways thank you for the cool request!

warnings: kissing, feelings of inferiority, leaving

genre: angst but it's kind of fluff

word count: 679

-> heroes of olympus masterlist

✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒

send me requests here!

✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒

leo stood on the deck of the argo ll. cool wind flew through his hair as he leaned on the railing. he silently admired the stars that covered the sky.

everybody was with somebody right now. jason was with piper, percy was with annabeth, and frank was with hazel. this was him; the loner, the odd-one-out, the seventh wheel. he'd accepted it.

reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a device he hadn't used in years. the brass of the small item felt cool against his warm skin. he turned his head, searching for the north star, hoping this would work. he held the small pocket telescope up to the north star, for a few seconds. if the north star didn't work, there might as well be no other star.

"please nyx." he whispered to himself. "let me see her."

"who're you looking for valdez?" a familiar voice came from next to him.

"you came." he smiled, looking at the north star.

"you called."

"it actually worked." he beamed, examining the telescope.

"no way." she smiled. "i'm surprised you still remember how this works."

"how could i forget? the one and only daughter of the night and i met her when i was nine and running away from home."

y/n could still recall the three months they spent running and hiding and fighting off monsters. they were so young, so innocent.

"i'm glad to see you leo." she said, sincerity apparent in her voice. "why'd you call me down here?"

"you're always on my mind, y'know it." he chuckled.

"how's the whole saving-the-world-thing going?" she grinned.

"could be better." he said.

"how so?"

"i wish you were here." he sighed. "i love these people, but i'm just their comedic relief. i-i'm nothing to them. i'm nothing to this cause."

"that's not true. you built this entire ship. there's no quest without you." she reassured. "and y'know i can't be in on this. i'm a daughter of nyx, not the olympians. and her offspring are considered dark entities."

"i know." leo said.

he looked over at her and wondered how people could believe a child of nyx was a negative entity. y/n, she was so beautiful. she had the beauty of the moon, she was just as breathtaking as a sky full of the brightest stars, and she was just as ethereal as the cosmos.

"how did you know i built the ship?" he asked. "i never told you that."

"i'm always watching over you." she smiled.

"what?" he questioned.

"i know you and frank used to not get along, but you're a lot better now. i know jason and piper are your best friends. i know you built this ship in six months, which is insane. and i know you sleep by the engine because you find it comforting." she continued.

"i just feel so alone sometimes. scratch that, all the time."

"i have faith in you leo." she said, putting her hand on his. "and whenever you feel alone, you point that telescope to any star in the sky, and i'll be there."

"how do you know where i'll be?"

"i'll find you. i always do."

they looked into each other's eyes for a moment before leo leaned in and pressed a kiss to her lips. his calloused hands found her waist, and her arms were wrapped around his neck. they kissed with passion and longing. when they finally pulled away, they rested their foreheads against one-another's, as her thumb grazed his cheeks.

"i wish you could stay." he said, feeling an overwhelming sadnesss.

she knew she had to leave. a daughter of nyx was more of a mystery than a son of poseidon or zeus. she knew it. but it killed her even more.

"i'm in the stars, repair boy." she said, sincerely. "i'm always with you."

leo felt the body by his disappear. she was gone. he held the telescope in his hands and put it in his pocket. he looked up at the north star once more, before returning to the engine room.

✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒✧.⭒

hope you guys liked it :)

#heroes of olympus #hoo #hoo x reader #heroes of olympus x y/n #heroes of olympus x reader #pjo #leo valdez #leo valdez x reader #leo x reader #angst #heartbreak #fluff #sad #nyx #give leo a hug

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random-thot-generator · 9 months

Text

Love Thy Frenemy + Ch. 9

Frenemies/Tenderness AU

NINE: Grow Me Something Better

SIMON 'GHOST' RILEY x FRENEMY FEM READER

Summary: While staying at Riley's house to heal and recuperate, he presents you with a surprising proposition.

Warnings/Tags: Profanity, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Mention of minor character's death, Unapologetic Fluff, No use of Y/N

(Notes: Been a minute. Hope it's worth the wait.)

Word Count: 3.2K

Chapter Nine

'Looking around and all I see is people happy with what they're given Life is pretty sweet, I'm told I guess I'm just shit outta luck growing a lemon tree I'm gonna burn it down And grow me something better...'

— Post Malone, "Lemon Tree"

Simon wakes slowly, his conscious mind rising like an air bubble in deep water.

He floats up through the dark depths of sleep, passing through the amorphous shapes of dreams to pop awake in the warm reality of his own bed.

His eyes are open but remain hooded, a sigh escaping his lips as he rolls onto his back. It's been ages since he slept this hard. It feels strange, waking lax and loose-limbed, thoughts fuzzy. He blinks at the muted brightness of the room, brows furrowing as he glances down to see sunlight laddered across the foot of the bed. Grunting, his head turns to squint at the clock on the nightstand, shocked when he sees it's nearly fifteen after ten in the morning.

"…the bloody hell?" he mumbles, confused and feeling unaccountably late for some unknown reason.

He pushes himself up on his elbows, head swiveling to take in the empty but rumpled sheets beside him, brows furrowing deeper.

Where are you?

His hand slides over the sheets, cool to the touch, and a frisson of cold panic takes hold. "Dee!" he barks out, his voice pure gravel.

The house is silent.

Grumbling under his breath, he throws off the covers. Plucking at the front of his T-shirt, he notices the tell-tale stain on the left side of his chest where you had drooled on him in your sleep. His gaze softens at the sight even as his anxiety propels him from the bed.

"DEE!" he bellows, his deep voice booming through the house like a sudden clap of thunder.

Still no answer.

He's in the hall and jogging down the stairs in seconds, socked feet slipping as he rounds the banister in the foyer. His eyes dart into the sitting room, noting that the telly is on before his eyes zero in on the kitchen door. He barges into the room, sees an abandoned mug and a protein bar wrapper on the island, but you're nowhere to be seen, and neither is Fiona, for that matter.

Had you talked her into taking you home?

He sees the kettle is still switched on and circles round the island with a muttered curse to turn it off. He's already making plans to find you and bring you back when his eyes catch movement through the window above the sink. His heart thuds hard in relief when he sees you ambling around the back garden, looking over the fallow flower beds.

"Bloody hell," he mutters with a sigh, bracing his hands on the edge of the sink. His eyes track your meandering progress around the yard.

You're moving slow and stiff, but you're moving, bare feet shuffling through the wet grass. Shaking his head, he goes back upstairs to retrieve a towel, a pair of socks and his shower slides, before heading out to join you.

He sees your head turn as he steps outside, pausing to drop the bundle in his hands on the patio chair before walking out to meet you. The corner of your mouth ticks up as he comes to a stop beside you.

"Your garden looks like shite, Ri."

Simon grunts. "Never here long enough t'mess wif a garden. 'Sides, don't know owt 'bout gardenin'. Pay a lad t'mow an' trim. Tha's good 'nough."

You cluck your tongue in disapproval. "Shame to let it all go to waste. You could have a lovely garden with this much space."

"Tha's more yer thing than mine, doll. I'd muck it up, fer sure."

"You would not," you mutter, nudging him. "You'd be a good gardener. You've got the patience for it."

He hums, unconvinced but not in the mood to argue about it. "Never had a garden before. What about you?"

Your eyes took on a distant look, a wistful, sweet smile on your face. "My mum kept a garden. I can still remember it."

Simon slants a cautious look your way, taken by surprise. You rarely speak of your mum. You had mentioned a car accident when he had asked, but didn't say more, the subject closed. He understood enough to know to say no more about it.

Of course, he had looked up the news articles and police report. It had gutted him, reading it. Your mum had slid off the road during a rainstorm, the car flipping over into a flooded ditch. Too injured to free herself, she had ordered you to unbuckle yourself and climb out a broken window to safety. You had sat on the muddy bank and watched as the car slowly filled with water, unable to do anything as your poor mum drowned. You were only six.

"What was in her garden?" he asks, his voice a low, soothing rumble.

Your eyes widen slightly as your mind travels back in time. "Roses along the fence line, a lilac bush outside the kitchen window. She had vegetable and herb beds; I remember weeding them with her. She planted daylilies in the back left corner and..." You pause, then sniff out a little laugh. "Her 'apple-less' tree was planted on the right side."

"Apple-less tree?" he repeats, confused.

You nod, an amused light shining in your eyes. "Mum bought the sapling not long after she and da got married. No one told her that she would need at least two apple trees to get them to bear fruit. They produce by cross pollination, so with no other apple trees nearby, no fruit. It was pretty to look at when it bloomed, but it never produced a single apple. Da used to tease mum about it, called it her 'apple-less' tree. He loved winding her up, making her laugh..."

Your words trail off, a look of longing on your haunted face, and Simon feels his chest constrict, then has to look away. He wraps an arm around your shoulder and guides you back towards the patio.

"C'mon, doll. Need to get ya outta this wet grass. Too cold fer ya to go barefoot, yeah?"

He leads you to the chair, having you sit down before he kneels by your feet. Taking up the towel, he begins to gently chafe your feet with it to dry and warm them up at the same time.

He glances up at you, then looks back down. "Ya know, if ya wanted, ya could plant yerself a garden here. Be nice, comin' home an' sittin' in my back garden with summat to actually look at."

You sniff a laugh, shaking your head. "I'd have to be over here all the time to tend to it. I wouldn't torture you like that," you joke, prodding his chest with your toes.

He grunts a laugh then moves to the other foot, pausing when he sees the bruised shape of Finch's fingers wrapped around your ankle. His fingers graze it with the lightest touch before he curls his hand around it, hiding the mark. "Wouldn't mind it— havin' ya around." His hand slides down from your ankle to cradle your foot. "Least I'd know yer safe."

You can hear the concern in his words, marveling at his penchant for taking on your problems, like you're his responsibility to bear. You wiggle your foot in his grasp, drawing his attention back to your face. Smirking at him, you quip, "Should I move into the garden shed, so you can keep a closer eye on me?"

He goes very still as he peers up at you, caught up in your words. His fingers flex around your foot, deep umber eyes gleaming and earnest when he answers, "No. Ya should take the room across from mine."

You try to make light of it, sniff in amusement like he's still joking, but you can see that's he not, and your smile fades. "Ri..."

His eyes dart between yours, his body coiling, ready to pounce on any argument you might pose and rip it to shreds. "I mean it, doll. If ya want t'put my mind at ease, then move in wif me."

You heave a sigh. "Ri, I know this whole thing with Jerry has put you on edge, but—"

"No," he says emphatically. "Listen t'me. This ain't a spur o' the moment decision. 'M not over-reactin' 'cause o' wha' happened las' night. This has been on my mind fer awhile now."

His accent has grown so thick, you know he means every word he says. "Ri, you just avoided me for a whole week because of a bad row. How are you going to do that if we live together? I'd be in your personal space— all the time."

"Then be in it, I don't care," he growls, clasping your foot to his chest. His eyes have grown fierce with his determination. "Get in my face, give me fuckin' hell, run me outta my own bloody house. Doesn't matter. 'S what I want."

You shake your head, dubious. "Ri, I know it's in your nature to be protective, but you don't have to take care of me. I've been on my own for awhile; I know how to take care of myself." Then you consider what occurred the night before and amend your statement. "So long as I use my common sense, anyway."

His strategic mind tells him to fall back, go at it from a different angle instead of pushing the same point. He focuses on your foot, rubbing it gently between his big hands, bits of dead grass littering the paving stones between his knees.

"'S not jus' about protectin' ya," he murmurs lowly, keeping his voice even and soft. "Ya work yerself to the bone, doll, jus' t'keep yer head above water. If ya live here, ya won't have t'pay rent. Place is already paid fer. We can split the bills, if tha's what ya want, or don't. Doesn't matter t'me. It's worth it t'have ya here lookin' out fer the place while 'm gone. It would help us both out, don'cha see?"

He's wise to your hesitation, but he knows he's got those cogs turning in that sharp little mind of yours. He's revealed his strategy, appealing to your common sense, the one thing he knows you will always fall back on when making an important decision; your practical nature is your default setting. Now, he just has to wait for the other shoe to drop.

"And what about what happened in Shoreditch?" you push back, and there it is.

"I was... outta line," he admits, gaze dropping. "I took it too far. When ya wouldn't say where ya were goin' or what ya were doin', comin' home exhausted, I was convinced ya were seein' some bloke who was usin' ya fer what he could get. 'S why I decided to track ya. I wanted ya t'lead me to him. Was gonna have a word with the sorry bastard."

You scoff at the notion, but don't comment on it, more pressing questions needing to be addressed. "And how did you do it? Follow me, I mean."

He almost balks, but then grumbles it out. "I stole yer phone, had yer GPS signal boosted an' linked to a receiver. 'S how I found ya so quick las' night. I know it was a shite thing t'do, but 'm glad I did it, now."

While you aren't pleased to hear what he did— you're right pissed about it actually, yet you're somehow not surprised. On the one hand, he basically stalked you, but on the other, you couldn't deny his actions were done out of concern and ended up saving you from a terrible situation. Not knowing what to do or how to feel, you chose to set aside. For now.

"I want to talk about what you said to me in the alley. You accused me of giving lap dances to pervs to pay my rent. Why even ask me to move in with you if that's your opinion of me?"

This is the one question he has been dreading above all others. This could all blow up in face if he did a bad job of explaining himself. He didn't expect you to excuse what he said to you, but he wanted you to understand what led him to do it.

"Ya tol' me once that yer da taught ya self-defense, yeah? When yer bein' attacked, ya go on the defensive— ya fight. What did yer da tell ya do?"

Your brows knit together, wondering where he's going with this. "Go for the weakest points on the body. Hurt them before they hurt you, so you can get away."

He nods. "Tha's wha' I did in the alley that day. I wasn't expectin' ya t'catch me out there. Then when ya tore into me, and I... I went on the defensive; I went fer yer weak spot. I didn't say what I did 'cause that's what I thought of ya; I said it 'cause I knew it would hit ya the hardest."

He ducks his head to meet your gaze. "I ain't in no position to judge ya, doll. I kill fer a livin'. Wha' the hell could be worse than tha'? I won't pretend I like the thought o' ya strippin', but I won't judge ya fer it. Yer jus' tryin' t'get by the best ya can."

You scoff again, shaking your head at how dense he can be sometimes. "I'm not a stripper, ya fuckin' eejit. I clean the private rooms at The Grind. Did you not notice the club was closed that day?"

Simon had never been so glad to be proved a fuckin' eejit. Your words are like a soothing balm to his mind. For the past week, the thought of other men seeing you naked, putting their filthy hands on you, had eaten him alive. Yet as pleased as he is to finally know the truth, he's also confused by it.

"Then why go t'all tha' trouble t'hide yer job?"

"Would you want to admit you make your money scrubbing cum stains off the walls? It's basically a brothel, Ri, and I get paid to deep clean sex rooms and toss out used condoms. It's disgusting; it's bloody embarrassing."

Simon nods in understanding and returns to his task, working his too-large socks onto your cold feet, then slips the slides on them. It's almost comical how big they are on you. Gripping your knee, he looks up to meet your eyes again. "Ain't no shame in makin' an honest livin', doll. I would never think less of ya fer it."

He gets back to his feet, resolute to see this through to its end. "I know we fight, doll, an' I doubt that'll ever change. Thing is, no matter how hard we fight, no matter how pissed we are at each other, when we need each other, we show up. We take care o' each other. Tha's as close t'family as I'll ever get, doll. It ain't perfect, but it's real an' it's ours."

With that, he leaves you to make up your mind.

You're quiet the rest of the day, and Simon knows you're thinking, picking over everything that was said, analyzing it, deciding if his offer is the best thing for the both of you. He leaves you to it, gives you your space, knowing there's nothing else to be done for it; you either will or you won't; he'll accept your decision either way.

When you knock at the door to his office and poke your head in to say goodnight, he wishes you the same, then listens as you go about your routine before bed. He wonders if you'll get much sleep tonight, because he doubts that he will. Still, there's a calmness that settles over him as he gets into bed and turns out the light, the knowledge that you're just a room away and safe giving him the peace of mind to close his eyes and rest.

The next morning, he wakes, checks in on you, goes for a run, checks in on you again, then goes to the Dog to fix the door he broke, leaving a note on the island to let you know. He hopes you'll still be there when he returns.

As he replaces the door, Ollie tells him about the police investigation that's been opened on Finch for multiple sex offenses. His informant relayed the news that Finch is now considered a fugitive on the run, after his car was found abandoned in a car park near Heysham Port in Lancashire. Simon is pleased, glad that their plan worked, glad that he played a part in ensuring that Finch never hurts you or anyone else again.

When he returns home, the house is empty, but your old messenger bag is still hanging on the peg by the door, your trainers still set next to his old boots in the corner. He wanders to the patio doors and there you are, almost ankle-deep in the mud of one of the garden beds, a pile of dead plants uprooted and tossed to the side.

Simon crosses the yard, his heart beating fast in his chest. "What're ya doin', doll?"

You stop, stand up straight and arch your sore back, hands on your hips. "Decided I want the vegetable garden here. Need to go by the nursery later, and the hardware store, too. Need some proper gardening tools."

Simon nods calmly, though he's pumping his fist on the inside. "I'll take ya. Jus' say when, an' we'll go."

You nod, sniff, then slant a look at him. "When I move house, I'd rather keep my couch. Yours is shite. Like sitting on a slab of concrete."

He huffs but nods. "Tha's fine but keep your grubby mitts off my Barca. Tha' stays, no matter what."

You shrug, then start picking your way out of the garden bed, taking his hand when he holds it out to you. You both peer down at your mud-caked bare feet, and Simon shakes his head. "Get over t'the hose an' wash yer bloody feet. I'll go get ya a towel an' some clean socks."

Later, while you're wandering the nursery perusing the plants, Simon goes off on his own, returning a few minutes later with a receipt that he tucks in his pocket without saying a word. You end up bickering over who's going to pay for everything as the cashier looks on with bored disinterest, then split it down the middle.

The following morning, you get up and head downstairs to make yourself some coffee, when you happen to spy Riley in the garden, the water hose extended out to the far-right corner of the property. Curious, you go out to see what he's up to, but your steps slow to a halt when you see what he's done.

There are now two new sapling trees planted at the back of the garden, a muddy spade and empty soil bags tossed into a nearby wheelbarrow. You step up to stand beside Riley as he waters them, looking up to meet his gaze when he bumps you with his shoulder.

"Couldn't get ya one like yer mum's. Had t'get dwarf apple trees cause o' the housing code restrictions. Figured ya'd still want apples, though, so I got ya two."

Linking your arm through his, you turn your head to swipe at an errant tear, but your smile is radiant when you look up at him again.

"They're perfect, Ri. I love them."

He's smiling underneath his mask when he says, "Ya know I did this fer purely selfish reasons. I like those little apple hand pies ya make."

You laugh, poking him in the side. "You'll be waiting awhile, then. It takes a couple of years at least before they'll produce any apples."

He shrugs, not bothered at all. "Tha's alright. I don't mind waitin', if you don't."

You stare up into his warm umber eyes and shake your head, heart overflowing. "No. I don't mind waiting at all."

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Taglist

@stillinracooncity @cumikering @cutiecusp @deadbranch @ghostlythots @thetiredtoad0-0 @glitterypirateduck @gothgirl6-6-6 @sofasoap @cathnoneofyourbusiness @shuttlelauncher81 @luminousbeings-crudematter @crunchlite @delilah-grimes @bobochacha @igotmajordaddyissues

#ghost x reader #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #cod ghost x reader #ghost x fem reader #simon riley x fem reader #simon ghost riley x fem reader #cod ghost x fem reader #Love Thy Frenemy #Frenemies/Tenderness AU

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