#Camping!AU

[charlie-jl]

Marauders camping au!!

Closeups:

[slobstation]

james potter canonically being a white man should be illegal, actually it is illegal. get the fuck away from me.

(i’m coping)

[kidovna]

“You just actively ignored me for three minutes” (fic by @campbyler)

[gothwineaunts]

Summer Camp Fanfic Fanart

(I'll just copy/paste a bit of my last post in case anyone missed it) So, we decided to make fanart of fanworks. Yeah, it's meta and chaotic, but that kinda feels right. If y'all like this we may do more in the future. This is the last one for today! Hope you had as much fun as we did!!

Ahahaha. So, listen. It was just too good a scene not to feature. This moment is from scouthearted's 'Neversmores' on Ao3. It's got six chapters out now and they're all nostalgic summer camp perfection. Everyone is camp counselors. Annabel is a hot lifeguard. Gay shit happens. Like, I don't even feel like I need to explain why this is good, right? Sapphics, we're all suckers for a summer camp story. That can't just be me. https://archiveofourown.org/works/50104561/chapters/126530674 --- And if you've never been on ao3 before, please understand that there's a WIDE variety of content there and some of it can be very over-the-line. Familiarize yourself with the tagging system before you go clicking around to make sure you're not reading things that are outside your comfort zone/age rating.

[tsuyonpuu]

The fellowship but they are just a bunch of little guys 💙

[moonstruckme]

He would never take those bracelets off 😭 now I kinda want a fic of counselor James and counselor reader how cute

Hi, I've lowkey been hoarding this for months because I wanted to wait until I felt summery enough, thank you for requesting!!

camp counselor!James x fem!reader ♡ 693 words

“Land ho, boys!” A familiar voice reaches you over the water. Your eyes are closed towards the sun, but you feel your lips twitch upward. “Thomas, if you don’t help Callum paddle you’ll fall behind, and the last one to shore has to buy me a popsicle after dinner. Hey, look, we’ve got a mermaid on our beach!” 

You turn your head to the side, squinting your eyes to see James and his cabin of boys paddling toward you in kayaks over the lake. You lift your hand in a lazy wave. 

“Oh, false alarm, it’s just y/n. Hi, y/n!” He raises an arm to wave back at you, wrist stacked with string bracelets made with care by small hands. You swear he’s got more from your own cabin than you have, but you don’t mind; James is a hero to most of the kids at camp, the goofy gentle giant who lets them ride on his shoulders when your manager isn’t looking and deals temporary tattoos out of his cabin during mealtimes. “Careful, Archie, mate, if she catches you rocking your kayak like that she’s going to hang you from the lifeguard stand by your toes.” The boys laugh, and James protests, “No, really! I’ve seen her do it, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

You roll your eyes and close them again, turning your face back towards the sky. It’s not until you hear the shushing of kayaks against the coarse sand and a shadow falls over you that you say, without opening your eyes, “Spreading rumors about me again?” 

“They know better than to take me seriously.” James’ shadow moves as he sits beside you on the sand, and you turn your head again to see him. He’s looking over his shoulder at the boys, the lean muscles of his abdomen stretching and dusky skin shining with sweat in the afternoon sun. “Hey, whoever puts my kayak and paddle up, I’ll buy them a popsicle after dinner.” Shouts and bickering ensue, and James turns back around with a smile. “Where are your kids?” he asks you. 

“In arts and crafts,” you say. “Figured I’d catch a nap while they were busy.” 

He hums, setting his hands on the warm sand behind him and leaning back. “So, you didn’t just come here to see how fit I looked dragging a paddle through the water?” 

You know James is only playing, but embarrassment tingles down to your toes anyway. “Not this time, sorry.” 

“Mm, don’t believe you.” He shoots you a grin, and you look away under the guide of rolling your eyes. That thing is more glaring than the sun. “You coming to the bonfire tonight?” 

“Don’t we have to?” you ask. It’s the last night of this session, and camp always closes out with a bonfire and s’mores for the kids. 

“I mean the other bonfire.” At your blank look, James continues, looking rather too pleased to know something you don’t, “After the kid’s bonfire, when they’re all watching a movie in the cafeteria, some of the counselors are planning to go out into the woods and have a grown-up’s bonfire.” 

You giggle. “Grown-ups? What are we, twelve?”

James bobs his head. “And we’re gonna have s’mores, and tell ghost stories, and maybe play truth or dare,” he says in an exaggeratedly animated tone. “It’s gonna be super cool.” 

“It sounds super cool,” you agree, laughing. “I’ll be there.” 

“Excellent.” James casts a look over his shoulder and starts standing up. “I should get back to my kids before they injure each other.” 

You check the time and sigh. “Yeah, me too.” 

“Want a hand?” 

You reach up and James takes your hands in his, hauling you upright. Your head lightens once you’re vertical, a combination of your sun-warmed skin and James’ touch making you woozy. 

“See you later?” he asks, releasing your hands and starting to back away as the shouting behind him grows more boisterous. “I’ll come find you in the cafeteria, we can walk together.” 

“That’d be great, thanks.” You start walking away, too, ignoring the pleasant buzzing in your chest. “I wouldn’t miss it.” 

[evilminji]

What is "A God" and does the King of the Infinite Every Between count?

The great and endless "slipped between the cracks" of everything and all things? The souls of those Death has Taken but no God can Claim? THAT King?

Is he... A GOD.

I mean... probably not? He's a Halfa. Little hungry, right now. And very, VERY powerful. Can absolutely kick their asses. But "God"? He'd honestly have to throw that one to his advisors to go look up.

Like? If we're talking Title? Maybe. There are definitely people who worship him. He wi-( ......*cough* HI Desiree, nice to see ya.) Would LIKE, people to stop? But he can't TELL them too. That's THEIR choice. They get to make it. But if we're talking the SPECIES or BEING known to you as "God"?

Nope.

He's definitely not.

But then again? There are a LOT of Beings out there, that serve that particular Role, that aren't "Gods". Does that make their work somehow less precious? Their worshipers Faith, less genuine? It's just a position, dude. Divine management.

The great and glorified Housekeeping of Creation.

In HIS experience? A whole lot like babysitting.

Though... now that he thinks about it? WHY? Why DO you want to know? If he is or is NOT a God? Furthermore, how the HECK did you even GET this "number"? This is the Zone! Did you intentionally "@Anybody"?! Kid! Kiddo, what the actual FUCK! That was SO DANGEROUS holy shit!!! (Is this karma? This feels like karma. Is this what HE was like as a kid?? No WONDER Jazz always looked so stressed)

I could have been ANYBODY!

And? A mulish AF Percy Jackson and his crowd of friends? Just stare back up in that "I DO NOT Repent And Would DO IT AGAIN BUT WITH MORE FIRE" way only highly hormonal and deeply feral teenagers can? Just >:( ×15

Danny, the only adult here, is Concerned(tm).

They? Demand he Adopt's them. They need a BETTER Divine Parent who will ACTUALLY take care of them. And according to the qualifications they carved into the REALLY smashed together, Neo-Archaic, Call Summon Boulder they collectively carved? HE has all the "Good Parent" Qualifications they want.

So congratulations!

IT'S A CROWD.

No they aren't asking. You are Dad now, FATHER. Now come and protect your adopted offspring! And give out hugs and praise! Also we made a list! And-!

*proceeds to try and menace the literal Ruler of The Infinte Zone in a crackling squeaky voice*

And like? Well, shit. Guess he's a Dad now. They're clearly too powerful to fight. Such devastating cases being made. Oh woe, he is powerless before them etc etc.

MAN, you all are tiny!

Who wants fudge?

@hdgnj @hypewinter @ailithnight @the-witchhunter @babbling-babull @lolottes @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation

[ayachannsstuff]

best friends forever

[tropical-lycan]

I missed drawing Andrew and Neil from my slasher Foxhole Camp AFTG AU ❤️and I missed drawing backgrounds lol

[floralcyanide]

ᴡᴀʟᴋ ᴏɴ ᴡᴀᴛᴇʀ ᴏʀ ᴅʀᴏᴡɴ — ᴄᴀʟʟᴜᴍ ᴛᴜʀɴᴇʀ

callum turner x afab!reader (nsfw)

You and Callum are camp counselors. Both of you are up to no good one night and share an intimate moment.

✣ warnings: smut, penetrative sex, unprotected sex, sex in a lake, cigarette smoking, female anatomy described, nipple play, semi-public sex, fingering

✣ word count: 1.7k (idk how it came out so short)

✣ author’s note: thanks to a friend for the camp counselor idea and making me feel things lol and thanks for all the votes for this fic! I enjoyed writing it.

masterlist | divider credit: @cafekitsune

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

“Have you ever smoked a cigarette before?”

“No, I haven’t.”

“Want one?”

You stare at the cigarette in Callum’s outstretched hand, hesitant to take it. Your legs stop swinging on the dock where you’re perched next to the tall boy, your hand reaching out to take the cigarette from his fingers. You stick it between your lips, silently asking with your eyes, “Is this how I do it?” He nods encouragingly, sliding a match across its box and cupping the end of the cigarette with his hand before lighting it. The action alone sends butterflies raging in your stomach. You puff the cigarette, inhaling slowly so you don’t cough. Exhaling, tendrils of smoke leave your lips, and Callum watches in awe.

“You hit that like you’ve been smoking all your life,” Callum chuckles as you pull the cigarette from your mouth and offer it to him.

“Nah,” he says, “it’s all yours.”

The two of you are counselors at the summer camp outside your city and definitely were not allowed to smoke while on the campgrounds. You also weren’t supposed to be out past curfew. But the thrill of being caught is what gets to you. Callum just does it because his pretty face can get him out of any trouble. You stare out at the lake that seems to go on forever in a black abyss to the horizon. Callum bumps his knee into yours as you finish the cigarette, somehow managing not to cough too terribly much.

“Wanna skinny dip?” Callum suddenly asks, a giddy smile on his face.

“What? Are you delusional?” you laugh, putting out the cigarette on the wooden dock.

“Maybe,” he shrugs.

You search his eyes for any signs of him joking but see none.

“You’re serious?” you ask, looking around to ensure no one is listening.

“Deathly.”

You stare at each other momentarily before bursting into a quiet fit of giggles. 

“Fine, but we gotta be quiet.”

You’re glad it’s dark so Callum can’t see the full extent of your body. But also disappointed that it’s dark because you can’t see Callum without his clothes, as much as you’d like to. Ever since the first day of orientation for counseling, you’ve been unable to keep your eyes off him. He seems to feel the same as you but less subtle. Callum has done nothing but flirt with you during the first two weeks of camp. Not that you mind, of course. But skinny dipping in the lake past curfew seems like a full-fledged affair. 

Callum rips his shirt over his head, tossing it where his shoes sit neatly by the dock entrance. He then stands to discard his pants, and you watch in silence, unable to move as you drink in what you can see of Callum in the moonlight. You realize you’re staring and hurry to remove your own clothes, but you're hesitant to take off your underwear until Callum does. You avert your eyes quickly as he does so. You aren’t that experienced in seeing the male physique naked, given you’ve not had much experience with sex in general. Sure, you’ve given a blowjob here and there, but nothing past that. Maybe Callum's flirting is just for fun, and he isn’t expecting anything. Not that you’d say no to him starting something, though. After all, why not? He’s cute, polite, great with the kids, and isn’t bad to look at.

Your thoughts are interrupted when Callum slides off the dock and smoothly into the water. He surfaces after submerging himself fully, swiping his hair from his forehead.

“Coming?” Callum grins, wriggling his eyebrows.

“Yeah, but don’t look,” you say shyly, reaching behind your back to unclasp your bra.

Callum closes his eyes but, unbeknownst to you, peeks through one of his eyes to watch you shimmy out of your underwear. He hurries to close it back when he sees you slip into the lake. The water is comfortable as the sun had warmed it earlier in the day. You swim over to where Callum is, stifling a laugh as he pumps his fist in the air at you, joining him.

“Never would’ve thought that little ol’ you would be skinny dipping,” Callum shakes his head, tutting at you.

“Well, I definitely wouldn’t do it with anyone else,” you say honestly, and Callum smiles softly at you.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Callum sinks lower into the water until his chin is just above the surface.

You copy him, your eyes locked on his. Callum reaches out and tucks some hair behind your ear, the gesture sending chills through you despite the warmth of the lake. He swims closer to you, his legs nearly kicking against yours.

“Can I ask you something?” 

“Sure,” you say.

“Would it make things weird if I kissed you?” Callum asks, his eyes flickering to your lips.

“No,” you shake your head, “I don’t think it would.”

Callum lifts a hand from the water to cup your cheek, the moonlight shining in his eyes as he leans in to kiss you. You let your eyes flutter shut as his lips press to yours, those butterflies from earlier returning. Both of you aren’t too far out in the water, so you can easily plant your feet on the bottom to anchor yourselves. Callum snakes a hand to your waist, his fingers gripping your skin slightly. He takes advantage of being near the shallows so he can pull you close to him without worrying about sinking. Callum deepens the kiss by catching you off guard and letting his tongue sneak into your mouth. One of your hands finds the back of his hair, water dripping onto his neck and your fingers. His hand slides up your side, his thumb brushing over your breast, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin.

“Is this okay?” Callum asks, pulling away but barely parted from your lips. 

“Yeah, I just,” you bite your bottom lip, “I’ve never…” you trail off nervously.

“Never?” Callum raises his eyebrows, “A pretty thing like you?”

Your ears burn as you glance down awkwardly, “Never.”

“We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to. I wouldn’t want to take your virginity in a murky lake,” Callum snorts.

“Even if you did, I wouldn’t care where it was. I like you, Cal.”

Callum flashes a smile at you, “I like you too.”

“You can do as you please. I don’t mind,” you say, “It’s about time, anyway. I’m not getting any younger.”

Callum chuckles at your last comment before grasping your breast under the water, letting his thumb wander over your nipple again, “Don’t worry, I’ll be slow with it.”

You shudder as Callum does it again, leaning in to kiss you once more as he teases you. He moves from your lips to your neck, leaving open-mouthed kisses there as he plays with your breasts, eliciting soft moans from you. You hope you don’t get caught. You brush that out of your mind as you let your hand move to Callum’s length, slowly pumping it until it hardens. He groans into your skin, kissing your shoulder gently. He lets his focus move from your upper body to your lower body, his fingers tracing your clit with softness. You move close to Callum until you’re against his chest for leverage, letting him play with you. He slips a finger inside you, your eagerness allowing it to go in without much struggle. Callum uses his thumb to swipe your clit as he adds another finger, curling them inside you and stretching you out deliciously. You bury your face in his neck, whimpering at the warmth spreading in your belly. Callum can feel you clenching around his fingers, noting you’re ready for him.

“Let me know if I need to stop,” Callum whispers in your ear, nipping the skin of your lobe as he lines himself up with your entrance.

You wrap your legs around his waist, and your arms are around his shoulders as he slowly pushes himself into you. It comes with some resistance as you’ve never had anything inside of you before, so Callum allows you to take deep breaths and relax before pushing anymore. He cards his fingers through your hair, encouraging and telling you how good you’re doing. It makes you take him easier, your cunt swallowing him nearly whole. Callum finally bottoms out, letting himself feel you around him for a second before pulling out slightly. He thrusts back in steadily, careful not to be too rough. After adjusting, you allow Callum to start fucking you properly, and you’re honestly shocked you didn’t do this sooner.

“Fuck,” you screw your eyes shut, gasping as Callum hits your g spot with a particularly harsh thrust.

“Just like that,” Callum says as your walls suck him in, “Doing so good, love.”

Your fingernails dig into his back as you bounce on Callum’s cock, him bucking his hips into you simultaneously. Callum takes advantage of your breasts being near his face as he clasps onto one of your hardened nipples, flicking it with his tongue and sending waves of electricity through you. Everything is clouding your head with pleasure as you feel yourself growing close. Callum grips your hips, his fingertips boring into your skin as he feels himself growing close, too.

“You can cum inside me,” you say in Callum’s ear, and he curses under his breath at that.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

Callum plummets his hips against your thighs as you move yours in fluid motions, feeling him at every angle. He nudges your clit with his thumb again, and you tumble over the edge, clenching harshly around Callum’s length. The feeling of your cunt squeezing him and the filthy sounds you’re making in his ear make him cum without warning. You feel his warmth inside you as he shudders against your neck, leaving soft kisses along it.

“You did great,” Callum says, slowly pulling out of you.

You catch your breath, glancing around to see if anyone is nearby. Thankfully, you’re still alone, “That was amazing.”

“I’m glad,” Callum says.

“Let’s get out, I’m getting all pruney,” you cringe.

Callum laughs and agrees before realizing something. 

“Didn’t think to bring towels,” he sighs.

“Race you to the showers, then?” you grin as the two of you climb back onto the dock.

“Get ready to be beaten.”

[keegansgf]

Camp counselor Mizu sketches for funzies

[eraenaa]

Stereotypical (Demi-God AU)

Aemond, Son of Ares x Reader, Daughter of Aphrodite

Synopsis: The daughter of Aphrodite falls for one of the sons of Ares— the second coming of their parents. 

Warnings:  Mature, 18+, Dry Humping, Semi-Public Relations, Not Proofread

Word Count: 2, 720

It’s stereotypical, you were aware—a whole cliche. But what were you to do when you realized that you were growing attracted to one of the sons of your mother’s past paramours? It did not help that he was the strongest fighter in camp— the most mysterious and illusive Demi-God there. You watch him by the benches whilst you sit and chat with one of the daughters of the Goddess Demeter, Helaena. “You’re staring at him again,” She teased as her fingers twirled the stem of a dandelion whose buds she blew away. You rolled your eyes and shifted your gaze, denying the accusation. “Just speak to him; I’m sure he won’t be as standoffish as he seems.” Helaena hummed, but you shook your head. 

“What are you two talking about?” Aegon, the son of Dionysus, appeared, seemingly intoxicated, even though wine was banned from camp. “No— let me guess,” he quickly said. “I’m guessing… the brooding swordsman? Hm?” He asked you, and you felt color bloom on your cheeks. Were you that obvious? You groaned and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear in frustration. “I do not understand! They… usually fall at my feet, trying to get my attention! But not him,” You complained, making Aegon and Helaena smile in amusement at the expense of your irritation. “Whatever, I’m going for a walk,” You grumbled and stood, trying hard not to let your gaze fly over to Aemond, who trained with a sword. 

You find yourself in the woods, threading closer to the lake where you often stare at your reflection in the water. You took in a deep breath and stared at your face blessed by your mother— the prettiest girl in camp, they say. You attracted all sorts of attention, good and bad, but the only attention you wanted was never bestowed upon you. He denied you of his lone gaze. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone?” You hear a voice ask. You sighed and cast your gaze upward, landing on Jacaerys, son of Hephaestus. “Hello, Jacaerys,” You say politely. 

“Do you mind if I join you?” He asked, dark eyes hopeful. “I… I’d actually prefer to be alone right now,” You reasoned. Watching his face drop. You sigh; if only Aemond were this excited to be in your presence. “Oh,” Jacaerys said, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’ll see you at dinner, Jace,” You give him a fleeting smile, and you thank the gods that he actually took the hint and left. You returned to stare at yourself, trying to define which aspect you could improve upon, highlighting them in hopes that it would catch the attention of one of the sons of the God of War. 

“What are you doing?” A different voice asked, a reflection joining yours on the surface of the water. You yelped and backed away in surprise. “Gods, Aemond,” You said as he finally cast his eye upon you. “What were you doing?” He asked once again, leading out his hand to assist you to stand. “Staring at myself,” You mumbled, feeling heat rise to your cheeks as he caught you. You hear him scoff, “Of course,” He said and let go of your hand that tingled from touching his. “Best you be reminded by the fate of Narcissus,” Aemond stated. You bit back your tongue; this is what you wanted. He was speaking to you— his attention on you, but now it came; why were you frozen as if you had gazed at Medusa? 

“Do you not have to train?” You asked Aemond as you perched yourself upon a log near the river banks. You watch him take a pebble into his fingers, skipping it on the water. “I’ve just finished,” he said and moved to take a seat next to you. You took your lower lip between your teeth as you felt your shoulders brush, the heat of him reaching you. “What do you think we’re doing here?” You suddenly ask as both of you stare off into the orange sun that reflects on the lake. “What do you mean? We’re here to train. We’re here for protection from the outside world.” Aemond stated the obvious, but you shook your head. “Train for what?” You asked, “A war.” 

“Is there one?” Your eyes locked upon his. “I… I just do not understand why I was brought here,” You confessed as you saw the confusion in his lilac orb. “They say the world of mortals was filled with danger— but mine wasn’t. I was living comfortably— I do not understand why my mother had summoned me if I am not to do anything here,” 

“The gods have a purpose in every action they make— even if we do not understand it,” You hummed at his statement. “Do you truly believe that?” Aemond looked at you with a question once more. “I just… feel like we’re pawns being played here— born to do their bidding. We make the sacrifices; they get the glory.  I just think that the minuscule scrap of recognition they throw is not at all  worth it.” You saw a smirk rising to his lips despite the seriousness you posed. “What?” Aemond shakes his head; you feel him inch his way closer to you. “My sister seems to think that you’re filled with air in that pretty little head of yours,” You blinked at his statement; should you be offended or flattered?

“And do you agree?” You ask, fearing for his statement. Aemond hummed, gazing at your face. It was the first time in your life that you felt insecure under someone’s gaze— the first time you felt fear that someone might not think you agreeable and comely. “I agree with her when she said that you were pretty… very pretty,” You bit your cheeks as his eyes flew to your blushed cheeks and then ever so quickly to your lips. “But, no, she was completely mistaken to underestimate you,” You feel your lips twitch, catching Aemond’s attention. You inch towards him, your desires swirling with your assumptions. Aemond stayed rooted where he sat; he did not lean in, nor did he pull away. When your nose brushed, you hear him take in a harsh breath. “We should head back,” he said and pulled away, leaving you confused and overly embarrassed and rejected. 

You were so close— you took the courage to move first. It was all Aemond wanted— all that he had dreamed of. All his offerings to the gods were for this moment, which was why he was greatly disappointed and infuriated with himself when he backed away and left like a coward. It was too much— it was so much more than he could handle. Ever since you’ve arrived at camp, all he did was try and keep your attention on him. He trained day and night, purposefully choosing grounds where you would pass by. He would relish with each moment that he would feel your gaze upon him. Watching intently as he would fight and show off his skill, hoping that it would impress you. Knowing that it was how his father had caught the attention of your mother. 

Aemond’s eye would fly to you during dinner, you sitting with your brothers and sisters. There was no smile on your lips, unlike the previous nights; you sat limply and played with your food, your cheek resting on your palm as a pout formed itself on your luscious lips. What had he done? How could he subject the most beautiful girl his eye has ever seen to such a sullen state? Aemond dug his nails into his palms. You were the daughter of beauty and love, and he was the son of war and strife. He did not deserve anything so precious and delicate as you. He could only offer you ruin and struggle. The thought of bringing you conflict only fortified his decision to back away. To instead protect you from afar— to relinquish his desires to be with you, to hold you, kidding himself that gazing at you was enough. That simply looking at you had to be enough. 

Days passed as both you and Aemond avoided each other. You, embarrassed by your wanting actions and him, controlling himself from giving in to his desires. You no longer watched as he would impressively train with the sword, and he would no longer silently trail you wherever you went. Aemond only picked specific moments to follow you and made certain that no danger would find you— even though the two of you were in the safety of camp where no danger could reach, Aemond was just simply cautious. 

You traded the lake for the beach. Walking alone on the sanded path, the moonlight shining bright atop the water. Your mind consistently loops your foolish actions, making you cringe at yourself. You called for your mother the other night, trying to find guidance or perhaps comfort, as rejection did not sit well with you. The thought of someone not falling for your charms when everyone so easily did, scared you. She ignored your offerings and pleas, leaving you to face your confusion and fears by yourself, only solidifying your beliefs that you and all the children in this camp were simply pawns by the gods. Expected to answer their call when it first rings whilst they constantly ignore yours.

You sighed heavily, staring off into the sea where your mother was born. Stepping foot into the water, you tried to connect with the woman who disrupted your peaceful, mortal life only to bring you here and ignore you. You took deep breaths, walking deeper into the water, not caring that you were still clothed as you submerged yourself in the sea. Aemond watched by the shore, battling with himself if he should follow. When you disappeared under the water, with each passing second, you did not emerge; it only put forth fear in the bravest demi-god in camp. 

Aemond shook his head and ran to the sea, diving to where you disappeared only to catch you resurface, shocked as you realized his presence had joined you. “Aemond,” You breathed out, wiping away the salt water from your eyes, the boy holding your arm, the waves pushing him closer to you. “What… what were you doing?” He asked, concern lacing his deep, silky voice. “I wanted to swim,” You reasoned, hoping that the water would clean you from embarrassment and shame. You feel his eye grow downward, looking at the clothes you fashioned. “In your night dress?” He asked, the silk fabric thin, the cool water clinging to your body. “It was a spontaneous decision,” You mumbled, your gaze shifting away from him as your cheeks heated. The both of you floating in the sea. 

“Why are you here?” you asked, realizing that he had gone in the water, fully clothed as well. You met his eye, the sapphire orb shifting around. His thin, pink lips parted as he tried to find a reason. “I… I—“ You bit your lip, as you had never seen him so flustered. The most fearsome son of Ares is at a loss for words when faced with the prettiest daughter of Aphrodite. 

Aemond stayed silent, only the crashing of waves reaching your ears. It took a while for the both of you to realize that you floated in each other’s arms— the past events of the other day returning to your mind, both making you conscious. “I’m sorry about the other day,” You whispered as you saw it best to address your actions in order for the both of you to forget it and your mind to free you from the torment of your idiotic presumption. “It was wrong for me to assume… I have misread your intentions and made you uncomfortable; I apologize.” You say sincerely. 

You hear Aemond sigh, the waves pushing your bodies closer together, his breath fanning your face, your scent invading his senses. “You did not misread anything,” He admitted. Making your brows furrow. “I… I wanted you to kiss me, wished for it for a while now.” He confessed with a small smile, trying to lighten the tense air with his rare but charming smile. “Oh,” was all you could say as you tried to comprehend his words. “Then why… “ you trailed as you had trouble wording out what had transpired in the lake. Aemond sighed, and you stilled as you felt his arms wrap around your waist, flushing your bodies together as the both of you floated. The moonlight lighted your face, illuminating his silver hair as well as your milky skin. “I got scared,” He admitted, daring to cup your cheek. Your skin was soft against his calloused palm. 

“You? Got scared? The favored son of the god of war got scared by the prospect of a kiss?” You asked in confusion, resting your hands on his shoulders. You hear him let out a small chuckle. “I was only frightened because it was you who I would be kissing,” He stated, caressing your cheek. “The most beautiful girl I was ever blessed to see… now, I hope you’d understand why I panicked,” Aemond smiled as the blush on your cheeks deepened. You set your gaze downward, staring at the water that sparkled under the silver light. Your heart stilled when you felt Aemond place a finger under your chin to raise your gaze once more, finally having the courage to place his lips against yours. 

Aemond wanted to be slow and cautious, to not frighten or pressure you to succumb to all his desires. But as a sigh left your throat when your lips finally met, all restraint he had disappeared. Pulling you impossibly closer to him, making you wrap your legs around him, letting your arms cling to him. Deepening your kiss, his tongue asked for entrance, which you were hesitant to give but relished the feeling when you did. Aemond’s chest rumbled with a sound as you accidentally nipped his lip, enjoying your mistake that only fueled his desires further. 

You pulled away from him, suddenly feeling cautious as the both of you were being so intimate in such an open space where anyone could see. You tried to speak reason, to speak caution that the both of you may be caught, but as Aemond placed his lips on your neck, kissing it and leaving his marks, you no longer had the capacity to speak. Pleasure freezing your mind at the new sensation. Aemond hummed as he heard your heavy breathing, your sweet taste mixing with the salted water as he indulged in the feel of your skin. Aemond closed his eye tightly as you, who had your legs wrapped around his torso started to move your hips. Squirming as you felt urgency for something you were yet to know consuming you. 

Aemond’s hand moved downwards from your waist to your bottom, cupping them and aiding your movements that sought for friction. You let go of a shaky breath against his lips, your eyes looking deeply at his sapphire eye that turned dark and glazed with deeper desires and restraint. “Aemond,” You whimpered, filled with anticipation of what was to come. You ground your hips further, making him utter a foul word and turn his head to the heavens. Aemond moved one hand to cup your cheek, bringing you closer to kiss your lips once more. “I… I— Aemond,” was all you could utter as you were uncertain what the sensation was building inside you. It was sharp and urgent and pleasurable— an odd mix. “Are you to come, my pretty girl? Hm?” Aemond gritted as his hips met yours. He bent his head down and placed a kiss atop your chest; his head felt light at the whimpers of his name that your mouth spewed. 

“Aemond!” You shrieked as all finally fell, your body feeling alight as you came at the sensation of riding against the boy you had desired for long. Aemond gritted out your name as he, too, came, spilling himself in his trousers. You hummed as he kissed you again, tasting him and the sea that was witness to your desires and pleasures being fed. 

Sequel: Jealousy, Jealousy

[slobstation]

James (son of Apollo) Potter trying to get Regulus (son of Hades) Black to be more comfortable at camp because he is terrified of hurting others since he found out his dad is Hades and is since- terrified of touching or going near others.

So James (possibly a masochist) Potter dragging Regulus out to train and keeps trying to make Regulus angry and keeps pushing, pushing, pushing until Regulus finally punches him and James is like “HARDER.” and Regulus is just like “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU????”

yeah. but on a real note james letting himself be injured for the sake of others always- gut wrenching.

[krasnyel]

the weak dogs

[ghouljams]

Pre(tt)y [Chapter 4] Tags: Viking au, Viking!Soap, highlander!reader, Soap x f!reader, grief, mistranslations, Soap is doing his best Summary: You haven't been offered a job, but you also haven't been killed yet. You meet two more vikings, and try to get some rest while you grapple with the loss of everything you've ever known.

Mactavish leads you through camp, the men around the fire glance at you and you step closer to his side. They don’t touch you, just as he promised, but that doesn’t stop them from looking. You’re led towards a tent that seems too small for the man that greets you inside. The man has to duck his head not to scrape the ceiling, his brown hair shorn short but his beard full. You keep your chin held high when he meets your eyes. There’s something commanding in his stare, something in his glare that reminds you of your father. Appraising, you think. He looks at Mactavish.

“What’s this?” He asks, the northern tongue rolls nicely with the rough timber of his voice. A viking made to be a viking. 

“The healer,” Mactavish responds easily. The other viking huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, his weight shifting to look down on the both of you.

“Believe we were looking for more than just the one,” He raises a brow.

“Aye, and you’ll never guess who found ‘em first.” Mactavish runs a hand through his hair, tugs at one of the braids to inspect. As if this is nothing. Same as the other some of the harsh lines in this viking’s face soften. He finds his anger again and spits on the floor with a word you don’t recognize. You can’t help but flinch away from his fury. The movement draws his attention again, and his eyes fix on you. 

“They any good?”

“Better than any of you,” You grumble. You may have been little more than an apprentice but you’d bet that’s more medical experience than any of these men have. Like Mactavish said, it’s better to just call yourself a healer than beat around the bush. At your side Mactavish’s fist clenches so tight you can see his knuckles turn white. If you’d hoped your gaelic was only understood by the Scot at your side you’re sorely mistaken.

The older viking grabs your face, and just as quickly Mactavish grabs his wrist. The viking seems to ignore his subordinate’s grip, studying you with cold eyes. You sniff, stand a little taller. You’re not sure why, it’s not smart staring down a viking. Some part of you hopes it’s a bad idea, hopes it’s your last idea.

“Let go,” Mactavish warns, “they’re my watch, Captain, my catch.”

You narrow your eyes at the captain. You should have known, the air of authority he carries should have tipped you off. None of these men are friend to you, not one of them. Even Mactavish calls you a catch, owns you like a carcass. You should spit in their faces, join your family in the afterlife and be done with this whole affair. 

The captain releases you and Mactavish releases him. Something wordless passes between them, some silent agreement that makes Mactavish nod. Whatever it is you don’t think it bodes well for you, like the closing of a door darkening the room you feel these men’s agreement like a chill over your skin.

“Get something to eat,” The captain advises him, “and see if any of the men need a healer. They can bunk with you tonight.”

Some of the puff seems to leave Mactavish’s shoulders, his breath releasing the tension from his form. You don’t feel the same relief. Bunking with one man is almost as bad as bunking with the rest. His joke about courting you rushes to the front of your mind, you wonder what that means for tonight. How courteous it would be for him to leave you alone. You doubt that will happen.

Mactavish’s hand touches the small of your back, and directs you out of the tent as you glare at his captain. You swat at his touch when you leave the tent, walking an extra half step ahead of him. You can feel his eyes on you, it makes your skin crawl. Is he sizing you up? Trying to gauge your next move? If you’ll run again? You doubt you’d make it with so many vikings after you. You’re about to try your luck, walking past the fire.

No luck. His fingers touch your back again, warm even through your heavy clothes. Mactavish directs you where to walk with a firm hand before he grabs your shoulder and pushes you down onto a log with a gentle, “Sit.”

It’s a command you’re loath to follow, except that the scent of food makes your stomach rumble. There’s a large pot over the fire, with some sort of stew in it. It smells rich and meaty. When’s the last time you ate? You almost thank Mactavish when he ladles a bowl for you, your hands reaching eagerly for the warm meal before stopping short. Your fingers tremble.

Just before you left home. Your mother had given you some bread and cheese, a snack to take while you were foraging. The smoke from the campfire fills your nose, a choking memory of your home. Just before the viking you’d had bread from your mother’s hand.

Your throat hurts, your chest clenching tight as tears roll softly down your face. You take the offered bowl quickly, you don’t look at Mactavish’s face. It’s a crack that splinters your heart, a weakness you can’t afford. You curl in on yourself, sip at the hot soup between your cold hands, and try to ignore the plip of your tears into the broth.

Mactavish takes a seat next to you, his hand hovers. You scoot away, towards the end of the log. The large man corner to you stiffens. You try to keep quiet in the silence that lapses, it doesn’t work well. As hard as you try to push it down you choke on a heavy sob and your hiccup is answered by a shift in the unfamiliar viking’s posture.

“Grey sky doesn’t bode well,” He says, his voice is rich and rough at the edges. You don’t think he’s talking to you, Mactavish maybe with how loud he is. You still glance at him, his eyes unreadable behind the bone mask he wears. You avert your gaze quickly.

“So you’re a Völva now?” Mactavish asks, “You know the weather?”

“Know it well enough.” The viking sniffs, leaning back with a roll of his shoulders.

“You’re full of it,” Mactavish laughs, his voice raising to meet the volume of his fellow viking. You tune out their voices as you sniffle, try to at least. They’re loud, their bickering covering your tears. Ignoring you. Of course they’re ignoring you. Why wouldn’t they? You’re a stranger, an outsider, a prisoner in their camp. You’re only here because there was no one else to steal.

You stare, fuzzy eyed, at the fire. You hiccup through your tears, trying not to dwell too much on your family, or the loneliness that settles in your bones. The vikings talk past you, over you, like you don’t exist. You might not. Not to them.

It’s strange that the thought is almost freeing. At least they aren’t watching you cry, jeering at your misfortune. Small miracles, you suppose, small kindnesses.

It’s dark by the time you finish your slow tearful dinner. The season’s chill aided by the sea breeze cuts through the wool of your earasaid. You’re almost thankful for the fur Mactavish gave you, your arms outstretched to warm you frigid fingers by the fire. The man beside you tugs his gloves off his belt and holds them out to you. You glance at the offering before turning your eyes back to the fire.

“You’re gonna lose your fingers, Vaenn.” Mactavish tells you. You tip your head, strange he’d use a nordic word alongside his Gaelic. That’s a verb isn’t it? To catch: vaen. He’s using it as a noun, or an adjective? Catch, catch, catch. Prey as its noun form, maybe. An unkind but fitting nickname you suppose. 

“Prey, huh,” The skull faced viking hums, almost teasing.

“Shut it,” Mactavish snaps, his cheeks pink from the wind’s chill. He grabs your hand and presses the gloves into it. “Healers are only as good as their hands,” He insists, “please.”

You curl your fingers around the well worn leather, soft and carefully maintained, they’re warm from his body when you tug them on.

You stop yourself from asking what he’ll do for gloves. You shouldn’t care, the less fingers he has the better. Still you can’t help looking at his hands, thick fingers and neat nails. He picks at the dirt under them, and you catch the flash of scars over his knuckles. Marks of a man at war.

Mactavish stares at the fire, the flickering light cutting shadows across his face. You wonder what he’s thinking, what he sees when he looks into the pyre. Is it the shadows that darken his eyes, or his thoughts? He doesn’t look at you, which feels- you don’t know. Desperate. Although you don’t know if it’s your desperation or his.

The skull viking stands with a creak of black leather. He pats Mactavish’s cheek when he passes him, something fond in the gesture. Casual affection that the Scott brushes off in favor of standing. All the darkness leaves his eyes when he looks at you. Like a mask, you think, when he smiles. There’s something hollow about it, something he’s pulled out of himself without any weight to it. You blink at the expression. It doesn’t inspire confidence.

“Lemme show you the tent,” He offers. You glance around the dim camp. Again you feel the need to say something, remind him that you were told to check if anyone needed medical, before you chastise yourself for even the thought. These men deserve nothing more than you’re made to give them. It’s your training that makes you think to ask, but you’re hardly employed.

“As long as you keep your hands to yourself,” You grumble.

“Of course,” Mactavish tells you with a confused look, “I wouldn’t touch you if you didn’t want it.”

You bite your tongue before you tell him he’s already touched you plenty. His hands seem so keen to brush against you, to direct you, his warmth attempting to seep into you unbidden. You keep your words to yourself, though you yearn to snap at him. There’s bitterness on your tongue, your grief finding a new name for itself with anger.

Mactavish holds the tent flap for you, and you duck under his arm. He’s quick to slip in behind you, taking up the small space as easily as his captain had. There’s a bed roll, and not much else. 

Mactavish pushes against your side in the small space, turning to drop to the ground. He crosses his legs, leaning back against the sturdy post in the center of the tent. His ax is unhooked from his belt and laid over his thick thigh. He heaves a sigh, and you feel weariness settle over his shoulders. Cold as the rolling sea and heavy as her waves. You watch him thread his fingers through his hair, scratching the back of his head as he drops it forward. 

Good. You hope his choices weigh on him. You hope they crush him.

[cuepickle]

Camp Skull Rock: The Campers

Can’t stop thinking about summer camp AU