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[jasmines-library]

Today I Saw The Whole World {1}

Chapter 1 - Out of body, out of mind.

Summary: You are Sam Winchester’s twin sister, cursed with the same blood running through your veins. When Sam begins experiencing his visions, you too discover a new skill. You can see into the veil.

Warnings: none really for this chapter, some mentions of violence, dissociation and an out of body experience.

Word count: 1.5k

Notes: This chapter follows the first season of supernatural, I’m planning to write further into the show in later chapters. This is kind of a trial chapter so feedback is appreciated. Also there may be some stuff that doesn’t quite fit with the show and that’s because I’m too lazy to go back and check, but who cares because it’s fan fiction and I can do what I want.

Also the title is a song by pierce the veil, which I thought was fitting. So please excuse the pun.

edit: went through and corrected some spelling errors. Apologies for any bad grammar that I missed.

“Y/N?”  

“Hmm?” You blinked slowly, snapping out of your reverie and turning your head towards Sam who furrowed his brow at you. 

You had been doing it again. Watching the people absentmindedly. You had grown a habit of doing that recently; within the last few weeks or so, people seemed to catch your eye more frequently. At first it was only one or two every few days, when you were well charged before a hunt and they would only be there for a few seconds before vanishing, but now your sightings were coming closer together and often lasted slightly longer. The people were peculiar; like they were oblivious to most of the world around them. They always seemed faded at first, until you put all of your focus into what you were watching, drowning out everything around you. You had been watching a woman perched on a bench beneath a lamppost. She was young with a sad look about her face, and wore her hair pinned neatly in an up-do. The woman wore a dark pink corset dress that seemed too formal for some park opposite a shitty motel en route to a shitty town in Arizona, and you found that despite the brightness of the lamppost beaming down in the darkness, no shadow was cast around her. Rolling the ring which sat on her left hand between her index and her thumb, she watched the world go by in front of her. Her gaze was off though as if she was watching the world through a screen and wasn’t actually in the room. That was until her striking blue eyes settled on your face hidden behind the motel room window.  

Sam followed your eye-line out of the window to the bench to find that you were staring blankly at nothing. “Are you listening?” 

“What? Sure.” You mumbled, eyes flitting back to the now empty bench before finally focusing on your brothers who were gathered around the table. You didn’t miss the worried look that Sam shot Dean.

“So you’re clear on the plan?” 

“I-“ 

Dean let out a deep sigh and dragged his hands across his face to pinch the bridge of his nose. “Sweetheart, you have to listen. It’s important.” 

“I know” you rubbed at your eyes with the heel of your palms. You had found yourself becoming increasingly weary as of late. “I’m sorry.”

Dean’s features softened as he rose from the table, his chair squealing on the cheap titled floor, and crouched down next to you on the sofa. He was able to cross the space in two strides. “Where’s your head at, kid?”

You shook your head. If you were going to be totally honest even you didn’t know. You were confused; seeing things that were there one minute and then gone the next was hardly harrowing. “I don’t know.” 

”Y/N/N, whatever’s going on you know you can tell us right?” Sam spoke next, you hadn’t realised he had moved from his chair to be near his siblings. “Is it like my visions?” 

The three of you had recently discovered that Sammy was having visions in his sleep, at first you all thought that they were nightmares but soon realised that they were visions once he predicted the outcome of a hunt. He had pondered whether you were experiencing something similar, considering the two of you were twins, and not only shared a birthday, but a similar mindset too, though you had shown no signs that something was very different.

“You have to tell us if something is wrong.” 

You knew that, of course you did. And you would tell them. Once you knew what was happening. Dean was smart, Sam even smarter. You figured they would figure it out before you did anyway, you would just have to lie to them for a while so you could have a headstart. “It’s nothing, I promise. I’m just tired after all the hunting we’ve been doing recently. I need more than 4 hours of sleep.” 

Sam let out a low chuckle. “Get some sleep then kid. We’ll brief you tomorrow.” 

~~~

That night you slept restlessly; it hadn’t taken long for you to drift to sleep to the soft murmurs of you brothers, but once you were asleep, you didn’t stay that way for long. 

Sitting up abruptly, your eyes were immediately drawn to the bright light of Sam’s laptop illuminating his face in the dark room. The second thing was Dean’s heavy snoring from where he was sprawled out across the bed he had claimed as his. 

Sam seemed elbow deep in his research; he didn’t react as you groggily swung your legs over the side of the pull out couch and made your way into the small kitchen.

“Sam? What are you still doing up?” You asked, peering over his shoulder. You knew that annoyed him. He was reading up on ghosts and their ability to move about the veil. Ghosts? Tomorrow's hunt was a demon hunt.

 “Sammy?” You waved your hand across his face, trying to get his attention. He didn’t react, instead his eyes flicked tirelessly across the screen and he took a swig from one of the many bottles scattered about the papers on the table. 

“You know it’s rude to ignore people, Samuel.” You told him rolling your eyes at the mess. Still, he made no reply. 

“Fine.” You turned away. “Be like that, assface.” 

You reached out to pick up one of the empty bottles from the table, only to find your hand  passing through it. You recoiled quickly, taken back by the motion. You reached out again, trying to grip the cool glass around your calloused hand only for the same thing to happen again. 

“What the-“ you muttered. 

You made your way over to try to shake Dean awake since Sam had decided to ignore you, and that was when you saw it. 

Your own body, curled up beneath a blanket on the pullout sofa. 

~~~ 

It was a firm shake to the shoulder that woke you up. The sunlight was seeping between the thin curtains and your two brothers were moving about the motel room gathering all of their stuff. You groaned and turned away from the hands on your shoulders, trying to bury yourself within the warmth of the covers. But the hands rolled you back over. 

“Nope. Come on sweetheart, time to get up.” You peeled your eyes open to see Dean’s meadow green ones staring down at you. 

Sighing, you pushed yourself up and rubbed the sleep from your eyes before beginning to get ready to leave for the hunt. You couldn’t help but reflect on what had happened last night. 

“Man, I had the strangest dream last night.” 

“Like vision weird?” You twin asked from across the room, stuffing your clothes into a well worn duffel since he had already packed his own and was going to go stir crazy if you didn’t do yours soon. 

“No.” You shook your head. “Nothing like that. It was definitely a dream but it was so…lucid. It felt real.” 

Dean was still sceptical that you weren’t having visions. You had started acting strange when Sam had started getting his visions and it took him a while to come clean about them, but Dean knew that you were more stubborn than your twin; you were a Winchester after all. “You wanna tell us about it.” 

“Well…” you started “there wasn’t really a whole lot to it. I woke up here. Everything was almost exactly as it was when we left it last night. Dean was passed out in his bed and Sam was up researching. Then completely ignored me, even when I waved my hands in his face and read all of his stuff over his shoulder.” You turned to your brother who was looking at you quizzically. “You weren’t even researching anything useful for the hunt. It was completely random.” 

“What’s so weird about that?” Dean asked through a mouthful of leftover fries he had pulled out of the fridge and decided to stuff his face with instead of throwing them away. 

You grimaced at the sight. “Well, when I tried to clean up the mess you two left, my hand went straight through the bottle. And then… and then I saw myself. Asleep on the couch.”

“Huh.” Dean said. “That is freaky.”

“Y/n…” Sam asked cautiously, “what exactly was I researching?” 

“Ghosts? I don’t know. I was kinda freaked out by my own body.” 

Sam was silent. It worried you, but it was when he turned his laptop around to face you that your complexion paled. Sam had been researching ghosts.

~~~

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[custardcrazy]

A Ted jealous fic pleaaaase! reader and/or him being jealous, or both, whatever you prefer :)

tenaciously uptight

summary: for the longest time, you thought you were the only jealous one. but soon, you realize your feelings for your best friend might not be so unrequited. (gn!reader)

wordcount: 4.3k

A/N: IM SO SORRY FOR THE WAIT OH MY GOD. thank you for requesting. im so sorry. please let me know if there's any glaring errors i barely beta-ed this

You were aware that your best friend wasn't the most observant guy, but seriously; he was completely and utterly unaware of anything even slightly related to romance. 

After all, he never noticed whenever anybody sent longing glances in his general direction. He never picked up on any hidden intentions when people batted their eyelashes at him or asked for his phone number. And he certainly didn't understand the fact that most, if not all of the people who wanted to hang out with him or just spent time with him in general found him attractive. How could they not? A tall, broad-shouldered golden retriever who didn't have a mean bone in his body was repulsive to few. 

However, you knew him very well and his self-esteem … was in the gutter. For many reasons, most of which were a certain individual parent who you preferred to leave unnamed. And that was mostly the reason why, even though he could pick up on whenever someone was flirting with someone else, he couldn't get a clue when somebody took interest in him. 

Even though you were very patient with him, and appreciated him dearly, sometimes you wished that he would just get a single clue. You were used to being the one who watched from afar as he was flirted with -- as girls shamelessly looked him up and down and pretended to be interested in Van Halen or Kiss (pun not intended) in order to segue the conversation to more intimate topics. It wasn't anything new, but you still couldn't stop the thing with claws and fangs which tore at your chest whenever it happened.

You knew that you couldn't do much else, even when you had felt something for Ted since the sixth grade; which was funny to look back on, because he was always asking for a spare pencil from you, and somehow, when you were twelve, that was cute. Ever since he hit his growth spurt, you'd been dealing with the immeasurable amount of jealousy that came with having feelings for a boy who was sometimes oblivious to the extent where it seemed he was blind. 

There had been a couple hints here and there over the time that you'd known him. That maybe he reciprocated all of the mishmash of stuff that you harbored for him. It wasn't enough, though.

(Were you really going to ruin everything you had over an awkward hand brush that one time at the movies?) 

Nowadays, you both worked at the Pretzels 'N' Cheese booth in the mall, which was an excellent strategy for being able to hang out while simultaneously earning money. And it was true that your clothes always picked up the smell of cheese and stayed that way until thrown in the wash, but it was worth it. Way better than working at American Eagle, which always attracted the catty middle-aged ladies. At least you could pacify them briefly with an excessively salty pretzel. 

Since it was summertime, there were more than enough mall-goers looking for unhealthy snacks to waste their money on. 

Occasionally you saw people you vaguely knew from high school, in various states of panic or otherwise. It was weird at first, but you'd gotten used to it. Today was no exception. 

Tyler McClellan (who had somehow been in all of your English-related classes) hadn't changed much. He was still blonde, mullet-ed, and smiled too much, but it was better than him just being plain rude, so you didn't mind. 

What you did mind was the way he was leaning over the counter towards you, acting as if Ted wasn't there at all. 

"So, uh," he said, grinning like he was being real smooth. "Been a while. You come here often?" 

"I work here," you answered politely. "Are you going to order anything?" 

He ignored your question. "Y'know, you haven't changed in the slightest." 

"Oh, cool." You tried again. "Can I get you anything?" 

Yet another failure. "Kinda sucks that we're both bumming around San Dimas, huh? I've been thinkin' about heading down to the beach." Tyler ran a hand through his hair for the third time in the span of roughly two minutes. "Catch a few waves. Weather looks good." Wiggling his eyebrows in a move that would've only worked in a terrible romantic comedy, he leaned even closer -- if that was possible. "It'd be pretty dope if you could come along." 

You snuck a look at Ted, seeing if he was possibly going to intervene or anything before you shut Tyler down; he met your eyes before quickly glancing away. 

Huh. 

Well, he'd never liked confrontation. 

"I'm not interested." Keeping your tone clear, you sincerely hoped that Tyler and his hopeless baby blue eyes would go somewhere else and maybe flirt with Hannah who worked at Claire's instead. "Please. Do you want a pretzel or not?" 

He looked at you for a moment, but you held your ground. 

And finally, gradually, to your relief, his shoulders sagged, and that ever-present smile slipped off his face. "... Okay, okay." He straightened up, stuffing his hands back into the pockets of his jeans. "One pretzel. No cheese or salt. Please." 

He paid in a couple crumpled bills, and slouched off somewhere else; not even bothering to say a simple 'thanks'. 

Ted was still quiet. 

"Um." Awkwardly, you looked over at Ted again after putting the money in the register and making sure you didn't give Tyler any extra pennies. "You okay? He's gone now, I think." 

Your words seemed to shake him out of whatever reverie he'd entered while you were talking with Tyler. "Oh! Uh." His hand automatically flew up to scratch the back of his neck. "... Sorry, dude. Yeah, I'm good." Another weird thing -- he was religiously avoiding eye contact, where he'd normally be focused intently on what you were saying. You were skeptical at best as to if he was telling the truth, but didn't want to make him uncomfortable.

So you dropped it. "Alright."

For the rest of your shift, Ted was … tense? Stiff. He eventually eased up a little, once you asked him about his and Bill's progress on marathoning all of the low-budget slasher movies they'd rented, but there was still a hint of something there, in the way he kept fidgeting with his hands. Again, you didn't mention it. Maybe he was just uncomfortable because of Tyler's presence. 

You couldn't blame him. 

But later, when you were both making sure neither of the machines had leaked cheese onto the floor; he brought up the topic again. 

"Dude, stop me if this is weird, or boundary-pushing, but… " He gently rolled his shoulders, as if he was shrugging off a jacket. "Did you actually wanna go hang out with that dude?" There was something in his voice that you were, unfortunately, familiar with. Vulnerability. But, unlike the other times, you couldn't exactly place why. 

"Y'know, just wondering," he added.

You squashed your curiosity down in favor of a disgusted expression. "Ew, no way. I barely know him -- or knew him at all." Dismissively, you waved a hand. "He's not my type, anyway." The exact opposite of it, actually. 

"Oh." He paused. 

"I'm … gonna go wash my hands." 

And with that, he practically darted off to the tiny employee closet, too fast for you to mention that there was no trace of anything on his fingers. 

You stood there for a moment, bewildered at his sudden escape. Maybe he just wanted space or something -- but, still, you had absolutely no idea what was going on. It wasn't like he was hard to read. But you just didn't know why he was acting so … skittish. 

Thankfully, when he finished "washing his hands", everything looked like it was going to go back to normal. He laughed aloud when you cracked a joke about that one time Bill spilled a metric ton of cheese on the floor. 

About two minutes later, you were both sitting in the van. It was a short ride from the mall to your apartment, which you "shared" with an acquaintance who was basically never there. You didn't know exactly why, but you got the gist of it from the fact that she always came back either inebriated or hungover. At least she did her laundry. 

Noticeably, Ted wasn't strained like before. Seemed like your admission concerning Tyler made him less nervous. He let you fiddle with the radio for a little while before settling on a channel. 

"Oh, yeah, I almost forgot you liked this kind of music, dude!" He beamed, having to shout over the sound of the wind whistling through the window; the air-conditioning had been busted for the longest time. "Stellar!" 

It wasn't too long until the van pulled up outside your apartment complex. Making sure your keys hadn't fallen out of your pocket, you hopped out. Just before you shut the van door, you offered a smile to Ted. 

"Thanks for the ride. See you later." 

"Wait!" 

You paused. "What?" 

He still had a hand idly on the wheel, but you noticed he was clutching it a little tighter. " … We're still on for tomorrow, right?" 

Right. Every Friday since forever had been movie night. He didn't often clarify it with you, since it was an unspoken thing. Even if Ted's memory wasn't the best, he always remembered. 

You gave Ted another curious look. "Yeah. Of course."  

"Cool." 

There was an awkward pause, before you filled it in again. "Cool. Uh, yeah, see you." Shutting the van door, you didn't linger long before walking up to the door of your apartment complex, mind whirling a little faster than usual.  

If you claimed that you didn't think about Ted's behavior later in the evening, when you were shoving some leftovers in the oven or when you were getting ready for bed, then you'd be a huge liar. 

The next day was uneventful at best for the most part, since it was your day off. You were usually a bit antsy before hanging out with Ted, nothing out of the ordinary for sure. But this time, there was something else alongside the typical restlessness. Not being able to specifically pinpoint what this something was made you even more restless, which wasn't fun. 

At around seven, the familiar van pulled up. You'd already been waiting -- summer evenings in San Dimas were nice and cool, unlike the unrelenting heat that arrived in the afternoon. 

Bill waved at you from the driver's seat, rolling down the window. "C'mon!" 

He was maybe a bit more of an aggressive driver than his taller counterpart, but the route to their apartment hadn't changed. As per usual. 

"Dude." Drawing out the 'u', he smirked. "Listen. Ted rented a bunch of these cheesy forties movie musicals --" Bill snickered to himself, " -- can you believe it? Never in the history of mankind would I have expected a genre such as that one to be selected for our movie nights, much less by Ted." 

"I mean, it's kind of a nice change from the terrible gory flicks you guys watch all the time." You were mostly indifferent as you watched houses and other assorted buildings cruise by through the window. "Well, yeah, still kind of surprising, though. But it's good to have a change of pace, right?" 

Your mind abruptly conjured up an image of Ted dancing in a smart black suit and matching top hat, a la Fred Astaire. 

"True," was Bill's thoughtful reply. 

Luckily, just like the drive to work, it wasn't too long to Bill and Ted's apartment. The second you stepped in the door, you were engulfed by an aroma of incredible, delightful, microwave popcorn. Ted waved semi-wildly at you from his comfortable seat on the couch, already sinking into the horde of different, brightly-colored pillows. A large bowl of what you'd smelled earlier was sitting in his lap. 

Without any fanfare, you walked over and plopped down next to him. He smiled brightly. "Hey!" 

"Hey yourself." You reached over his lap to grab a handful of popcorn, and he moved the bowl a little closer to make it easier for you to do so. 

A long sigh drifted over from Bill's general direction. "C'moon. Why do I always gotta be the one to put in the tapes?" 

"No one said that you had to, dude." 

"I don't see you getting up to help." He shot a look at Ted, who grinned innocently. 

"I'm totally stuck under this most hefty bowl of popcorn." 

Bill narrowed his eyes at you next; you just shrugged in response. 

"You both suck," he declared, but moved to get the tapes anyway. 

A bit later, all of your eyes were glued to the small screen, and all of the popcorn was pretty much gone. The first movie to be chosen was about halfway through, and still, the tune of the catchy titular song was stuck in your head. You had assumed that was the point. 

"Do all babes fall for dudes who help them turn off the lights?" Questioned Ted aloud. 

"It has to be more complicated than that," insisted Bill. "I have learned from experience that the process of woo-ing is not just. Like. Being able to reach up to switch off a chandelier or whatever." 

"Right, but who knows?" You chimed in. "Some people really like acts of service." 

"Acts, plural," came Bill's defiant assertion. "Nobody's that easy." 

"I dunno, dude," chirped Ted. "I would be totally flattered if somebody turned off the lights for me." 

"Well, yeah, you become deeply infatuated with various babes on sight," shot back Bill. 

You were suddenly glad you had an excellent poker face. 

"That's different," pleaded Ted. "You know, everyone has those sorts of things, right? Little crushes?" He sounded embarrassed. "Well, you can't really use that as an example! That is totally underhanded of you."

"You cannot deny the intense attraction and infatuation you feel for certain babes on sight," recited Bill solemnly. Suddenly, his focus was on you. "We both know that for sure. Right?" 

"Uh." You faltered. It was the truth. But something inside you refused to accept it, which was both infuriating and yet another validation of your feelings. 

"Yeah, I guess," you settled for. But you quickly added, "he's kind of matured since high school, though." 

"That's what I'm saying!" Burst out Ted, and you were glad that the bowl was nearly empty, as he would've sent it all flying in the air. " 'Sides, Bill, weren't you the one makin' eyes at the sales lady at the record store the other day? You sure looked infatuated, all from the fact that she helped you to find that Ozzy record -- " 

" -- even you admitted you found her cute -- " 

"Dude, shut up!" 

You let them bicker for a little while longer, until you couldn't hear the dialogue over their petty arguing. And then, an intervention was necessary. 

"Okay! Okay." 

They both fell silent, and you were glad. "Who cares if you're both easy or not. I think, personally, I would also be at least kind of flattered if someone helped me out with a chore or something. It's polite." 

Bill just pouted, looking back at the television. Ted turned slightly to face you, looking curious. 

"So … If a dude helped you with your laundry or something, would you take interest in him?" 

You didn't interpret it as anything other than a genuine question. 

"I mean, since laundry is boring, I'd definitely get a good opinion on him. It takes more than that for me to, like, seriously consider dating a guy." Like maybe always remembering your birthday, and giving you little special homemade gifts he made himself. Or like listening closely to everything you said. Or maybe giving you his jacket on a chilly day; disregarding himself even though you could see the goosebumps on his gangly arms, or … 

Man, you had it bad. 

Ted nodded in that distinct way of his. "Gotcha." 

"Would you find it attractive?" You asked, surprising yourself. 

He didn't seem bothered, though. Just a little sheepish. "I suck at doing laundry, you know that. So yeah, I'd probably be. Like. A little interested, at least." 

"Yeah." 

The movie was pretty good for the rest of its runtime, and there wasn't much conversation that passed between the three of you. By the time the credits rolled, you heard either of them stifle a yawn. 

For a moment, all of you just sat there. Then, slowly you and Ted turned to look at Bill. 

He threw his hands up in the air. "Are you kidding me?" 

The rest of the night passed in a near-blur, and before long, Ted was rummaging through the cabinet of their tiny bathroom, looking for the spare toothbrush. Bill was probably already fast asleep; around one, during yet another dramatic tap-dancing scene, he'd dozed off, and it had taken a bit of effort to wake him up and get him to bed. He'd always slept like a log. 

"So," you said, from your perch near the sink. "What'd you think of the movies? Better than Cujo?"  

"Oh, dude, that particular film is an experience." He was crouched on the floor, but looked up in order to make eye contact with you. "But, I don't think I can compare 'em. They're too different -- all-American movie musicals versus B-movie slashers." 

"True." 

A few seconds later, Ted let out an 'aha!' as he found what he'd been so doggedly searching for. "Think fast!" 

You fumbled for the neon green toothbrush he tossed at you, but managed to not drop it. "Thanks." 

With a bit of effort, he got to his feet, then stretched; you politely averted your eyes from the way his old tee shirt rode up his stomach. 

"What'd you think?" 

Pausing from where you were squirting toothpaste onto the bristles of your toothbrush, you thought it over for a moment. "Pretty decent and enjoyable in general. Obviously cheesy at some points, but that's kinda the novelty of it all." You smiled. "It's not called the Golden Age for nothing." 

"I agree wholeheartedly," he replied. 

Strangely, he was lingering. Usually he just left you to do whatever you needed before you settled down on the couch, but even after you finished splashing water on your face, he was still by the doorway. 

"Something up?" Turning to face him, you leaned back on the counter, ignoring how it dug into your back a bit uncomfortably. "Still thinking about that little debate with Bill over easiness?" You couldn't help but tease. 

The combination of the late hour and the fact that it was just you two, in relative close proximity, made this feel intimate, almost; like you were the only two people on Earth. Since the apartment wasn't in the more populated areas of San Dimas, the only occasional sound outside was the revving of a car engine or the rare hoot of an owl. 

"Well, kinda." Averting his gaze for a moment, his hand found a familiar place on the back of his neck, "but, um, not really. I just … " 

You waited patiently, and he eventually picked up the sentence again. "I just wanted to, uh. Ask you another question." 

"Why didn't you ask me earlier?" It slipped out before you could stop it. 

"I … I didn't want to," he said, and you thought that was it, but then; "not in front of Bill. He would probably never let me forget it." 

"Oh?" Both interested and nervous, you looked at him imploringly. 

His Adam's apple bobbed. "Um. Yesterday, you mentioned that dude wasn't 'your type', and then like, a couple hours ago you said you liked acts of service, right?" He kept barreling forward. "So I'm just, like, curious -- " 

"What is your type?" 

Your first instinct was to find it funny. All that build-up, for a simple question like that? But then, the truth hit you; you couldn't be completely honest when answering it. And normally that wouldn't be a huge problem, but guilt was slowly creeping up on you. You never had lied to Ted, and you didn't want to start now, just to protect your own dignity or whatever. Disregarding the fact that Ted had somehow remembered a one-off comment you'd made, you hastily put together an adequate response. 

"Well, uh," you started, "you know I'm not too picky, but what I really look for in a relationship is being able to support each other, no matter what. Always being there for one another. Always being able to remember what makes them happy and what doesn't." Exhaling slowly, you felt oddly … Exposed. "And being able to make each other laugh. That's all. " 

He didn't respond for a few seconds, but then, 

"Did you find him funny?" 

You were caught utterly off-guard. "What?" 

"Tyler." 

Another case of avoiding eye contact, and you were worried. 

"What? No!" Dumbfounded, you didn't notice that you were repeating yourself. "Ted, I told you that I wasn't interested in him at all. Why're you bringing him up now?" 

"I just wanted to know," he said, shrinking in on himself a little, "you know, you could've said yes, he's real good-looking -- " 

"Why does that matter?" Cutting him off, you shook your head. "I'm gonna answer that myself. It doesn't! He was being a huge creep, there's no way -- " 

" -- I know you'd like to go to the beach, dude -- " 

" -- no, I didn't, that'd be really inconvenient, you -- " 

" -- you didn't have to feel forced to say no just 'cause of stupid outside factors, I saw you considering it -- " 

"I wasn't!" You exclaimed.

Seeing the expression on Ted's face, you hurriedly reeled yourself back in, dropping your voice to nearly a soft murmur. "... I wasn't. Why don't you believe me?" 

The silence was so thick, weighing upon your shoulders like a heavy blanket. 

But instead of being comfortable, it was suffocating. 

A beat longer.

"Sorry, sorry," he finally mumbled, "sorry, I got… Ahead of myself. Sorry. I do believe you, I swear." 

"No, no," you rushed to fill in the gap, "no, it's fine, it's alright." You'd stopped leaning back, now at full attention. 

Ted peeked at you from underneath his bangs, and you took that as your cue to continue. 

"I'm just … I'm just confused. Why…?" 

Your voice trailed off, but before you could pull yourself together enough to clarify what you meant, he spoke up instead. 

"I'm sorry, just -- " your heart broke; you heard the emotion warping the edges of his voice, but before you could say anything once more, he interrupted. 

"Just forget … all of this. I - it's nothing. Sorry. I screwed up, that's all." He turned away, but not before you could catch sight of his trembling hands. 

"See you in the morning, dude." 

No. Not like this, you couldn't let him shuffle off to bed like this. You'd known how many times he'd done that already in his life. You'd witnessed it firsthand; the way he always bottled it all up, acting as if nothing happened while that was anything but the truth. You couldn't let him turn away and act like everything was normal the next day. 

You reached out, wrapping a hand around his wrist. 

He stopped immediately. 

"Please. I can't forget this, and I know if I try it'll just keep getting harder not to." He was still facing away from you, but you didn't let that stop you. 

"We've never hidden anything important from each other, Ted. You know I'm always here for you." Maybe there was a hint of desperation in your words -- but you were, and you were on the edge of begging. "Please, I hate fighting with you. I shouldn't have lost my temper."

He didn't speak for a little while; but he didn't pull away. 

Then, eventually. 

"I thought I could handle it, like before, but this time I just couldn't."  

Now, he was facing you, your hand still around his wrist; and now, your hand was in his. 

You couldn't speak, but that was fine, because he was still talking. 

"I'm sorry. I'm really sorry, dude. But seeing him looking at you like that -- " His breath caught in his throat. "... I never could be so forward, especially not with you. But I think I gotta." 

Was this really happening? You felt light-headed all of a sudden. Did you fall asleep during the movie?

But his touch was grounding. 

You could feel the calluses on his fingertips. 

"I'm," he began, voice trembling. "I've been. In love with you. For a really long time." 

Floored. 

Maybe you were dreaming. Your Ted wouldn't be looking you directly in the eyes, professing his feelings to you, the blush on his face clear as a bad vocalist underneath the ugly fluorescent lights of the bathroom. Your Ted wouldn't be still holding your hand as if it was the most precious thing in the world. Your Ted didn't see you as anything other than a great pal. 

… Right? 

Wait, no, your Ted was still talking. 

"A - and I know this is really sudden and you're not obligated to return anything because obviously it's kinda awkward because we're best friends and it's gonna change everything -- I like everything, but -- " 

If he could be so brutally forward, it was probably your turn to do so too. 

"Ted." 

His mouth snapped shut. 

"Ted," you repeated, face flaming. "I love you too." 

There. Years of feelings all expressed in Four. Simple. Words. 

For a moment, he looked like a fish; mouth opening and shutting uselessly. 

Then, you were pulled into a bear hug. 

Nothing unfamiliar, but this time, it was somehow so much different. Automatically, your hands were around his neck, and his around your waist, and together you stood there for a while. Rocking a little. No words necessary to convey what you were both thinking. 

Finally. 

[skzoologist]

Meeting Bae at a fansign event

request: meeting Bae and interacting with him by @thightswideforhanin

word count: ~1.6k

warnings: none

genre: crack

a/n: As I mentioned earlier, I really don't know how exactly a fansign works, so I could only go off on things the internet provided me with. This is the result, I hope you're happy with it! I think you will be, dear, considering you just caused Bae to malfunction lol

Please let me know if I left a warning or anything out, I will add it in! Reblogs, likes and feedback are greatly appreciated!

!I don't condone anyone stealing my work and posting it anywhere without my permission, or feeding it to AI!

!This is just fiction, my interpretation of Stray Kids. By no means is this how they are and how they behave in real life!

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹‧˚₊꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶︶︶꒦꒷‧₊˚⊹

They’d had their latest comeback a week ago, STAY still recoiling from its mind-breaking effects. The feedback on it was overwhelming, giving immense glee to the boys who took great pride in their work. Nothing made them happier than their fans’ joy, caused by something they all worked extremely hard for. Shaking the musical industry was their goal, and they’d succeeded.

Of course, with every new comeback came the time for a fansign, something that was always exciting, for both participating sides. For the fans, because they could finally meet their beloved idols, and for the members, who were happy to personally chat with the people who’d supported them through their arduous journey so far. Bae was no exception to this rule, no matter what anyone would think. He loved his fans dearly, despite his cold appearance and hard to approach aura.

But god, did he wish they would fluster him at least a bit less.

On stage, in comments under every picture or video, in their own edits, it didn’t matter, never did. There was bound to be at least one person saying a cheesy pickup line, something they all knew worked on Bae like a charm. The man loved cheesy and bad puns, which was the exact reason why he’d been dragged to Chan’s lives several times, just for the elder to read some comments out loud and cause Bae’s skin to flare up on camera. It was an endless cat and mouse game, one Chan enjoyed tremendously.

So imagine when these people could say those things to Bae’s face directly. He slightly dreaded it already to be quite honest, even though the event hadn’t even started yet.

“How’re ya holdin’ up?” - it was Chan’s voice, a sweet melody calming to his anxious mind. “It feels like there’s more than usual.” - that was Bae’s only reply, his dominant hand disappearing behind the veil of his hair, no doubt to lightly tug on his earlobe hidden there.

The leader just grabbed onto Bae’s shoulder, giving it a few gentle squeezes, reassuring the younger successfully. Bae couldn’t help feeling like this, he never did exceptionally well in social settings. Maybe that was why he naturally gravitated towards Jisung, the two too similar in that sense for their own good.

An unexpected force threw Bae almost off-balance, his own legs and a strong pair of arms immediately compensating for the sudden added weight to his back.

“I’m soooooooo excited! Aren’t you, Bae hyung?” - it was their little sunshine, his energy off the charts.

Bae and Chan just chuckled at him, the latter ruffling his hair with fond eyes. The tallest member took the young one’s legs into his hold, shifting the boy properly up onto his back and giving him a piggyback ride. Felix naturally didn’t complain, happiness practically radiating from him thanks to the surprise affection Bae was giving him. This caused Chan to loudly laugh, his phone already in his hands and taking a video to show the others later. Bae’s cheeks slightly dusted, but he was used to this already a bit, thankfully.

“Oh wow, Hyung’s favouritism is showing again.” “Seungmin, what are you– Oh my god, you’re right. Dal hyuung!” - Jeongin’s voice whined after he rounded the corner, eyes watching the scene in mock disbelief.

Bae merely looked back at them with a raised eyebrow, as if to ask them both if they wanted to take Felix’s place. The two immediately shook their heads, dropping the act before they activated their hyung’s overbearingly affectionate side and doomed themselves to be coddled to death.

The others trickled into the same room as well, their eyes instantly latching onto Bae and teasing him, asking where their own piggyback rides were. Changbin was the most vocal about it, only calming down once he was promised to be the next to get one. The otter’s ears were already red, even though he hadn’t even met a single STAY yet. He had to do something about it and quickly, lest they were called to go out like this. But no matter what he wanted, Felix had a plan of his own, not releasing Bae even when the man stopped holding him up.

“Lixie…” “What? You started it, now you’re stuck with me!”

What had he done to deserve this…?

“Hyung’s gonna have to go out like this and I’m already loving it.” - it was Jisung, eyes twinkling in evil delight. “Oh absolutely, me too. You record and I take photos?” - Hyunjin replied, the two sharing a brofist before laughing at the glare Bae sent them.

True to his words, Felix didn’t let the older go, causing Bae to start holding him again in fear of any accidents happening otherwise, injuring one of them.

They were soon called to go out and take their places at their respective booths a few minutes later. The mere thought made Bae hesitate, something that Minho took the opportunity of, stealing a butt smack from both him and the koala clinging to his back. Felix was merely surprised for a split second, while Bae yelped quietly, glaring at the running form of his cat-like hyung with no real heat behind his gaze.

Knowing he had to get it over with either way, he followed Minho, bumping into the man playfully before letting the younger get down from his back. There was cheering from their audience, no doubt enjoying their silly interactions that were hard to come by when it involved the Glacial Prince.

Bae took his seat, being the sixth in line, sitting right between Hyunjin and Minho. The fans were absolutely ecstatic, excited chatter barely contained for the sake of their idols. Everyone was holding something, either an accessory for the members to put on, or a plushie to cuddle and play with. The first fan was taken to the first member, the beloved maknae of the group. A minute or two later they were ushered over to Seungmin’s booth, the next fan taking their place.

It went like this for a while, nothing major happening. Thankfully the first few fans decided to have mercy on Bae, merely chatting with him about their latest comeback happily and not giving him anything too embarrassing to put on yet.

This soon changed, the next fan looking entirely too thrilled to take a seat in front of him at last. Bae recognised them, remembering how they usually held a sign with a pickup line about him or Jisung in their concerts, shouting their names and overpowering the speakers’ high volume. He mentioned this to them with a gentle smile while he signed the page their album was marked at, causing them to gasp and nearly shout in excitement and disbelief.

“Of course I remember, I have good memory.” - he chuckled out, pushing back the album into their awaiting hands with another smile. “Ohmygod I love you Bae oppa, I have the biggest crush on you!” - the words stumbled out of their mouth, surprising not just Bae, but themselves as well.

The idol blinked back at them, pale cheeks rapidly tinting red with each passing second. No words that formed in his mind could successfully leave his mouth, giving ample time for the STAY in front of him to recover. They quickly placed some clip-on cat ears onto the table, seemingly high quality and fluffy. Pleading eyes stared into Bae’s own, their request clear and unmistakable.

With a quiet, well-hidden sigh and closed eyes, Bae gathered his inner strength, knowing fully well his members would not let him live this down for a while. It was only a matter of time before one of these somehow got onto his head, he knew that well.

So, his hands gently took the accessories, swiftly attaching them onto his long hair that was dyed a deep violet. The reaction was immediate, a poorly concealed squeal leaving the fan’s lips as they complimented him over and over, the gushing merely strengthening the rising colour on his cheeks.

For their last minute they simply talked, the fan grateful for having been able to meet him this close and expressing their gratitude. Bae gently smiled at that, thanking them for supporting the band so much through thick and thin. 

When the pair's time was up, the eager fan promised to attend the next concert as well, not wanting to let their crush down. His skin that was slightly faring better heated up once again, his attention stolen by the next fan and the album he had to sign. Bae tried his best to focus solely on the new fan in front of him, despite feeling the stares on the sides of his face from his members, no doubt lured by his flustered state that was pointed out by the shy girl sitting at his booth.

“YO, BAE HYUNG, THOSE LOOK GOOD ON YOU! WANT ME TO BUY YOU SOME?” - Jisung’s voice cut through the shushed chatter, pulling in everyone’s attention. “Don’t worry Sungie, I already got it covered.” - Minho replied calmly, that smug expression already sitting on his face as he watched Bae.

The male in question could only hide behind his hands, his walls of defence completely crushed and crumbled down, clearly hearing everyone’s chuckles and the fans cheering as he only hid deeper into the palms of his hands. He couldn’t look into anyone’s eyes, not even the poor fan who was right in front of him, obviously enjoying the show, if her giggles were anything to go by.

Flustered, Bae could only hope his fans would have mercy on him for the remainder of the event, knowing fully well that it was naive thinking.

[watchtowerindistress]

are you falling for me...? (1/2) - arthur pendragon x guinevere!reader

A/N: Another one! Damn, Arthur is such a banter machine. Excuse the few times when I didn’t use time-appropriate wording. I don’t know when I’m going to post the second part since inspiration has been hindered by my schedule. Still working on the draft outline.

Summary: Imagine meeting Arthur for the first time who is claiming you already as the love of his life aka his future wife. 

Arthur Pendragon - the most infuriating man in all of Camelot who knew of his effect on women. As if you didn't already knew how his abdominal muscles looked. The destined King tended to take his shirt off in your presence any chance he could get after all.

Pairing: Arthur Pendragon x fem!reader (Lady Guinevere, no body description)

Warning: puns, sexual undertones, mention of smut, language, blood

Words: 3.2k

Read on AO3 | Get tagged

“So, what’s the plan?”

Arthur and Bedivere rode on horseback side-by-side through the forest.

“We need to acquire the help of someone who can hide in the shadows. Manipulate the minds of people. A fighter and a spy.”

Arthur turned his head in fascination at the vague description. “You’re not talking about the mage then?” He chuckled. “I’m guessing you have someone in mind already?”

“Indeed. This could prove to be quite difficult though. If they don’t kill us first.”

Arthur turned his head sharply at the ominous warning. He smiled wryly. “How wonderful. And here I thought I would die while inside of a beautiful woman and not surrounded by trees.”

“Quiet,” his friend muttered strictly.

Arthur snorted. “Don’t be a prude, Bedivere.”

“Stop talking and halt your horse.”

Arthur grunted loudly. An arrow whizzed in front of his horse’s feet. With a stunned reaction, Arthur’s eyes went downwards before he pulled the reins. The horse whinnied in reaction and her legs jumped in the air. Arthur tried soothing the horse by stroking the skin and quietly muttering, “Easy, girl. Steady.”

Arthur turned his head towards Bedivere with cynicism in his eyes. “Is this person really your friend?”

“I never said anything about friends. More like friend of a friend.”

Arthur didn’t like the nonchalant tone in his voice since Bedivere wasn’t known for it. “You’re not exactly instilling a lot of confidence, my friend.”

Bedivere raised his voice when he called out into the greenery. “We mean you no harm.”

In demonstration, Bedivere lifted his hand and carefully stepped off his horse. With his expressive eyes, Bedivere indicated for Arthur to do the same. “We just want to talk.”

Arthur sighed before he followed suit. “I hope you know what you’re doing,” he uttered into a whisper that soon shifted into a hiss. “I’m not getting shot with an arrow for you.”

“Please ignore my companion. We need your help,” Bedivere continued, as if he hadn’t heard him.

Arthur only heard the rustling sound once a hooded archer jumped down from one of the tree’s branches. They tilted their head before pointing a nocked arrow towards Arthur.

He snarled at the threat they displayed and didn’t appreciate the insult. “Tell your friend to stop threatening me with the pointy sticks.”

“You’re the one posing a threat with the sword,” he explained. Bedivere sent him a nonplussed expression. “What? I’m only carrying my daggers.”

The archer’s eyes lingered on Excalibur which he was carrying at his waist. The hood shrouded their features in darkness, he could merely detect a dark-green paint underneath their eyes and along the cheeks.

Yet, he couldn’t help being a brazen bastard when he smirked. “Are you impressed with my giant weapon?”

His hooded opponent exhaled an aggravated groan. Arthur frowned when the sound stirred something in his breeches.

They unsheathed their hidden blade. Stepping closer, they pointed the sharp end towards Arthur’s face.

Not liking where this was going, Arthur nervously reached for his sword and clenched his jaw. He tilted his head back and the corners of his mouth twisted into a snarl.

“In your dreams,” a female voice answered.

Arthur frowned as soon as he realized that he was facing a woman. He tilted his head to gaze under the hood and discerned soft lips.

It still confused him that his manhood twitched at the anticipation of being threatened with a sword by a woman.

“Why are you wearing men’s pants?” he blurted out.

You furrowed your eyebrows and dropped the hood of your cloak with your free hand, revealing the green camouflage around the eyes and your braided hair over your shoulder.

Arthur’s hand loosened from his sheath before he opened his mouth, feeling utterly speechless.

“I’m pointing a very sharp blade to your face. Are these really the last words you want to utter before you die? Perhaps you’d prefer those pointy sticks instead?”

Bedivere, ever the diplomat, raised his palms while standing between them. “No one’s killing anyone today.” When he didn’t see you revert back from your threatening stance, he continued, “You really intend to kill the next King of England before can even fulfil his destiny?”

You slightly lowered your blade in astonishment. “You’re Arthur?”

“Have we met before, love?” Arthur felt fascinated by this creature and his face lit up.

You exhaled before glancing at Bedivere in heavy disappointment. “Are you sure that I can’t just kill him? I would do us all a favour.”

Arthur narrowed his eyes. His arms tensed at his waist. “What did I ever do to hurt you? We just met.”

Frowning in confusion, you turned back to Bedivere. You placed the blade back into the sheath at your waist. “Why are you here?”

“We need your help, Lady Guinevere.”

You sighed wearily. “Did Merlin send you?”

Bedivere quietly nodded.

“Well, great. Not like I have a choice, do I?” You turned to Arthur, feeling confused by his silence. “Anything else you have to say?”

Arthur looked up, knowing he had been staring at your body in great appreciation. He swallowed thickly. His Adam’s apple bobbed with the motion. “… You have really … beautiful eyes. You know … the green paint makes them really, you know, … shine.”

Arthur could feel Bedivere look at him in a mixture of shock and puzzlement.

The mission went as expected. The fact that Arthur was the one who planned it shouldn’t have surprised you. Especially that he was forced to improvise when him and his rebel friends were confronted with a few Blacklegs.

You merely sighed and nocked an arrow into your bow and let it loose. The hand holding his sword was penetrated before a pained roar echoed on the streets. Apparently, Bedivere wasn’t wrong in utilizing you as a backup to save Arthur’s hide.

You stepped into the cave. After seeing the mage by the fireplace who stirred a green-ish paste with a mortar and pestle, you muttered sarcastically over the woman’s shoulder, “Smells delightful.”

“Not all things to cure your ailments taste like rainbows.”

You whispered, “Of course you’d know what a rainbow tastes like. What’s it for?” You watched her work while cowering on the ground.

“Arthur,” she muttered back. “This way his shoulder won’t get infected.”

“Ah, that mace came out of nowhere,” you explained almost defensively that you weren’t able to fully keep Arthur safe.

“Do you mind bringing it to him at the lake?”

Her gaze remained on the mash without facing you.

You narrowed your eyes and stood upright again. “I’m not a healer.”

“But you still know how to bandage a wound, don’t you?”

Mistrust rose in you. The mage was always known in taking care of the future King.

“Got something better to do?”

“Actually, yes. I’m awfully cold, I think I’d rather stay by the fire. Keep myself warm,” the mage answered innocently.

“I know what you’re doing, mage, and I don’t appreciate it,” you hissed darkly.

The mage lifted the mortar like a small present over your shoulder. “Wonderful. Love the initiative.”

You heaved a sigh while you strolled along the riverbank. The exhaling breath turned heavier as soon as you saw Arthur sitting in the distance.

His back was turned towards you. A huge gulp was taken from the bottle of alcohol before he shoved it back into the sand with circular motions.

“Keep some of that.” You notified your presence.

At the sound of your voice behind him, Arthur turned his body in surprise.

The blond man wrestled the bottle out of the sand and gave it away willingly. He smirked lecherously. “When did I get so lucky to have you take care of me?”

“Or unlucky. I have a blade to ward off any unwanted hands, you know.”

“I wouldn’t say ‘unwanted’, princess,” Arthur mumbled with a gravelly voice.

You exhaled at hearing his constant flirting. “Take off your undergarment.”

Arthur sent you a surprised smirk. “Well, hello. You’re a bit fast for me. What happened to foreplay?”

“My King,” you hissed mockingly. “Take off your chemise or I’ll do it for you.”

Arthur chuckled. “You’re making me blush, Princess. You know I’m all yours-”

With harsh movements of your wrist, you wrestled with Arthur’s clothing.

“Uh - God damn it - you - not so rough.” Arthur exhaled as soon as he was freed from his undergarment and his upper body was naked to your eyes.

The moment it was bare, and the wound was visible, you realized that it would have sufficed to pull it at his shoulder a bit. Either you wanted to ogle him or torture him with your rugged manner. And imagining the first option was far too frightening to imagine.

Wet hair clung to Arthur’s forehead. The carnal image was a pure distraction.

“You have a terrible bedside manner,” he grumbled.

“Then I guess you need to be careful not to get hurt again.” Wetting the linen clothing with the water of the lake, you cleaned his wound until a nasty cut remained. You dipped the material back in the water to get rid of the spare blood.

Arthur whispered softly, “Oh, are you falling for me, my love? Careful, your true feelings are showing.”

You reciprocated Arthur’s gaze without blinking. You cleared your throat. Absentmindedly, you doused the linen clothing with alcohol. Without warning, you pushed the garment mercilessly against Arthur’s bloodied skin.

A pained groan left his lips before Arthur closed his eyes. “Damn you, woman. Let me.” He pressed the linen against his skin himself unless he wanted to get tortured further.

“Judging by the scars on your body, I’d imagine you knew a lot about pain already.”

Arthur gazed back at you. “I knew you’ve been admiring my body after all.” He smirked and wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

You revealed the mortar with the green paste. “Whatever helps you sleep better at night.”

“Truth be told, you could me help with-” His nose wrinkled once the smell hit him. “What the hell’s that?”

“Courtesy of our mage.” Two fingers smeared with the spread before you rubbed it on his injured shoulder. “It’s supposed to activate the healing process, save it from infection. It would be a shame for the born King to die from a mere infection, wouldn’t it?”

You began wrapping the bandages around his shoulder.

Arthur chuckled before he licked his lips. His gaze met yours over his shoulder. “So, what did I ever do to hurt your feelings, huh? Did we shag and I ignored you the day after?”

Arthur’s casual mention made you wrap the bandage tighter around his shoulder.

He hissed in pain and glared at you.

You chose to ignore his stare while continuing to focus on wrapping Arthur’s shoulder. “I don’t know. Maybe I just abhor the fact of having no control over my own fate.”

“And what would you do if you had control, my Lady?”

“Stop calling me that,” you growled.

“Why is a lady hiding in the forest in the first place?”

“Same as you. So your uncle doesn’t kill me.” Without realizing it, your fingers tightened a knot into the wrap.

“You still haven’t answered my question. How do we know each other?”

“To be honest, you already know the answer to that.”

“Come on, put this poor chap out of his misery.”

You playfully inspected your surroundings. “Oh, do point me towards this poor lad.” You shook your head, sighing. “We met when we were children. I resided at court with my family and with yours.”

“Wait a second.” Arthur turned his head in recognition. His eyes lit up with a newfound appreciation. “Lady Gwen? You were the one with the hair!”

That description made you frown. It felt like you hadn’t escaped your past when Arthur used to tease you like the prince he was, kept pulling on your hair when you were both children. Having enough of his mocking, you pushed him back until Arthur dropped into the water.

With a huff, you stood up and started walking briskly away from the male nuisance. There was a reason why you preferred the solitude of the forest.

Light-hearted chuckles remained in the distance while Arthur stared at you in admiration. “Still as feisty as I remember.”

You sighed when the sounds of the flutes and string instruments echoed in the cave. The deeper you wandered inside; the music became clearer.

You stroked the hair behind your ear.

For some reason, Goosefat Bill considered it a good idea to have a night of singing and dancing to build up morale among the crew. You still didn’t like it that you had to dress up for the occasion and abandon your chemise and leather pants you wore while in hiding.

You exhaled deeply when you entered the cave. Many groups of people stood around the campfire while others danced in pairs.

Arthur sat on a wooden chair near the cave walls and sipped at a jug of beer. The moment he saw you, he did a double take once he began to recognize you with the unfamiliar clothes.

With his eyes shining, Arthur called out merrily, “Princess. Almost didn’t recognize you with a dress. Tell me, what happened to your trousers, my Lady?”

The gall of the conceited prince.

You stepped closer towards him until you were standing next to him. Seeing him staring up at you with his head thrown back to fully gaze at you.

“How is your shoulder?”

“Wonderful. Unless you want to tend to it, then I’m feeling utterly miserable.” Arthur pouted his lips.

He placed his hand on his hip as he slowly stood up like a jungle cat. With lazy movements that made your stomach stir with wanton emotions, he inched closer to you until your hips almost brushed together.

“Thanks for the inquiry. You do care after all. There’s no need to hide your feelings from me, you know? You can just admit how much you secretly want to see me naked and have a tumble under the sheets.”

You cleared your throat before the sound turned into an exhale. “In your dreams, Pendragon.”

“Oh, it wouldn’t be proper to tell you what kind of dreams I’m having of you.”

You turned your head in fascination. “You care about propriety, since when?”

“Oh, you naughty princess. Someone wants me to talk dirty to her after all.” Full lips shifted into an indecent smirk. Arthur tipped his head forward until his hair hovered over his eyes before he stroked it back.

You sighed. “As if you could handle that.”

A ruthless idea formed in your head when you eyed his beer.

You teasingly took the pitcher from his hands. Taking a huge gulp from his alcoholic drink while sending him a molten gaze.

Arthur swallowed before he replied with a raspy voice, “You don’t know what I could take.”

You hummed. You pushed the now almost empty jug against Arthur’s chest which he cradled with his hand without averting his gaze from you.

“Well, I’m going to have just the minimum of fun and dance with the mage.”

Without missing a beat, Arthur stepped forward. A move that even stunned you. “May I be of assistance, my Lady?”

“Oh, manners. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.” You patted his chest, including his prominent pectoral muscles, just for the fun of it. The touch turned into indulgent and distracted stroking for a few seconds too long before you reminded yourself to swiftly turn around to walk away.

But you still heard the taunting voice of Goosefat Bill. “Admiring your work, Arthur.”

“Sod off, Bill,” Arthur grumbled angrily.

“Put him out of his misery. It’s distracting him,” the mage whispered.

You held her hand while twirling around her with the practised steps. One thing your upbringing taught you was to adapt. After a while you got used to the fun, casual dances.

“Oh, please. He can take it. Besides, he’s a man. Everything distracts them.”

The mage tilted her head and watched you with a blank, brown-eyed gaze. “You intend to ignore your fate with him as well?”

“I’m not Queen material, mage. And I can’t even stand Arthur most of the time.”

“I don’t believe that for a second. Arthur loves to ruffle your feathers and a part of you wants to-”

“Hit him over the back of his head? Tease him right back after all these years?” You continued for her.

“You mean as a shield to hide yourself behind? How is that working out for you?”

You stared blankly at her. “I don’t appreciate your matchmaking, mage.”

“You’re forcing me to it if I want to see that fate becoming real.”

“Perhaps Merlin was wrong,” you stated anxiously. Knowing that Arthur was your future rattled you on a whole different level.

The mage raised unimpressed eyebrows. “You dare to utter such blasphemy? And what about the Lady of the Lake? Is she wrong, as well?”

The air turned tense with silence. It only got worse, the longer it prevailed.

You clenched your jaw at the reminder of what the future was holding-

“Are you ladies having fun without me?” Arthur swooped in with his typical swagger. “You mind if I cut in?”

You opened your mouth when the mage’s answer stopped you in your tracks.

“No minding here.”

Without another word, she glided away like an elegant dancer, stunning you for a second at the audacity as you stared after her.

Arthur’s lips twitched with the widening of his eyes in astonishment at the mage’s gesture. “I knew I liked her for a reason,” he mentioned before turning back to you, offering the palm of his hand. “Dance with me, Lady Guinevere.”

You sighed, finally surrendering to your fate. “Who am I to spoil the evening?” You rhetorically asked before placing your hand in his.

Arthur smiled and bowed almost mockingly low.

As soon as he stood upright again, you teased him right back by saying, “I hope you know your steps, Arthur.”

The moment you lifted your arm, not only did Arthur interlace your fingers together, but he also pressed your folded hands to his chest.

Damn you, Arthur Pendragon. You and your heartbreak eyes and your cheeky ways.

Arthur’s unaccustomed tendencies kept you on your toes when you were forced to step closer until you stood inches away from him. And Arthur’s breath ghosted over your forehead.

“You’re not moving. You’re supposed to move,” you mumbled under your breath.

Like he was uttering a secret just between you, Arthur whispered, “Maybe I like it this way. Just standing here like this. Having you so close to me. With you not fighting me at every turn.”

You swallowed. “I am going to fight you if you don’t move.”

Hesitation warred in Arthur’s expression. “All right.”

Before you could truly process what was happening, Arthur started slow dancing with you with swaying motions and making you chuckle.

He was caressing the soft skin of your hand with his thumb while the other, stroked a curl of your hair away with admiring eyes. “See? I knew I could make you smile.”

Arthur lifted your palm to his lips to nuzzle it with his lips. His bearded jaw left tingles right to your stomach.

There was only one thought rushing through your mind while staring into those bright eyes.

Dear God, you were in trouble.

Tagging: @mellowstatesmanhandsempath @ravenmoore14​ @lelapine​

[ransprang]

I love yall hni fanfics sm like hni deserve more quality fanfic like this ,also i was wondering that could yall write (n)sfw hcs for my boy Itagaki Manabu with fem reader (im crazy abt him and bro has like zero fanfic for me to delulu TT.. ,have a nice day and tysm!! :33)

hii wow my first itagaki request :o sorry if this isn't that great, he is kinda baby to me 😭😭

Itagaki Manabu x fem!reader Hcs

SFW

I think the only criteria you need for him to like you is that you are punny. Otherwise you really won’t get along with his family which is something important to him

also get ready for puns to be made from your name

he often goes to Ippo for tips on what sort of dates to go on. So needless to say he has to get creative on his own. Most of the time Nanako will help him out. In exchange he gives Nanako tips on how to rizz up Ippo

as manabu grows as a boxer he’ll really appreciate any amount of support from you

He showers you in kisses and hugs after every win asking for reassurance “y/n i did a great job? didn’t i? :33”

His biggest love languages are words of affirmation and gifts. He’d take so many selfies and candid pics of you. He loves showing you off “guys look at how pretty she is today hehe”

He’d be those people who post their s/o ALL the time on social media. The kamogawa guys love you, but please control your man. There is only so much jealousy they can take

N/SFW

He is mostly inexperienced in bed. Ippo goes red in the face when asked for tips. in the end manabu will just dive in and ask you to be patient with him

when you first get into the relationship, takamura teases manabu trying to teach him his special 'finishing' moves. you'll need to tell manabu to forget what he learned

manabu is a boob guy very easily. he spends a lot of time teasing and licking your nipples working you up. there's just something about the softness of your tiddies

he has accidentally ripped some of your lingerie in excitement oops, but don't worry he is overall very gentle <3

he isn't called the speed king for nothing ;) despite his inexperience his dick will pound you hard and fast

He is a switch fosho. Bro is a featherweight, he is meant to be picked up and thrown around a lil yknow

he uses his silly little phone cam to record his cock going in and out of you. he just loves the wet noises of your pussy that he needs it on his phone. dont worry he’ll put it in a hidden folder so no one else sees it

your pun,

admin sar

[veronika-tserber]

🔥 PLUTO Appreciation Post

Disclaimer: We are exploring potentials and pure archetypes here. Please, don't take things too literally. I am not a fan of generalizations, either.

I believe that all planets are facets of the experience we call "Love". Venus relates to the most easily comprehensible and widely accepted type - the love that is beautiful, harmonious, and pleasing. It's romantic and sensual, which is what most of us long to experience in a relationship with another.

Venus, the charming Aphrodite - she is a bit of a coquette, isn't she? The moment you burp in front of her, she’s already begun packing her bags. You dirty Schwein! 🐷

All silly jokes aside, I definitely don't mean that Venusian people don't love deeply - they absolutely can.

But if you think about it, what is their Love based upon? They have a strong desire for balance, equality, and beauty which they long to achieve and maintain within their relationships. In situations of conflict, when shadows begin to rear their heads in, Venusians tend to look away.

It's as if Venus is saying: "I will love you and be loyal to you as long as you don't bring me into this sh#t!"

But sometimes, there is sh#t. And a lot of it. There is only one planet that is not just aware of this fact, but also quite interested in digging into it, and that's Mr. Pluto, the subject of today's post.

He is the one and only, FULL-TIME BOSS (He'll sleep when he's dead!) of the Underworld who spends the majority of his time hidden away from the light of day, surrounded by both the pure and the rotten souls of the deceased! He loves to listen to the screeching sounds of screams for redemption. He also likes Baroque.

I've read that when the other Olympians invite him to their celebrations, he doesn't even like to attend. I mean, what's better than sipping blood-colored wine and petting your three-headed Cerberus, right? Right?!

I am having too much fun with this. But it's safe to say that Pluto is more than familiar with the darker, uglier aspects of humanity - he's seen it all!

He is THE Alchemist who knows that Darkness is nothing more than the Absence of Light.  This isn't to say that Plutonian people are unconditionally loving, either. On the contrary, in a lower vibration, they can be so guarded & paranoid, you would think their hearts are made of stone.

There lies the potential, though. I touched upon this "contradiction" in my Sun/Pluto post the other day. However, unconditional Love is such a lofty goal, it can take a lifetime (or a few) of shadow work & healing to reach it.

Astronomically, Pluto is a teeny-tiny dwarf planet. Yet, it carries so much power that people who know a bit of Astrology generally fear him. This isn't entirely superfluous. You will find Pluto's twisted manifestation among some of the most power-hungry, controlling, and ruthless people. The fact that World War II took place only 9 years after Pluto was discovered, isn't a coincidence, either.

But he is as scary as we are stubborn and resistant to change. When we ALIGN with Pluto's intention to purify and raise our consciousness, things become way easier. Pluto transits, as well as your natal Pluto aspects, can show you exactly what is going to be put to the test and when. Astrology does a great job of giving you the advantage of preparing for that test. Yay, Astrology!

I believe that Pluto is God’s way of showing us tough love, and tough love is highly misunderstood. No one likes pain (kind of) and suffering. But what we need to understand is that the pain doesn't come from Pluto, per se. The pain comes from the straightening of our twisted perception of reality. It's like having your hand at a twisted angle, and someone grabs it, and snaps it back into place! Ouch! Is that even possible?! But you get my point - it hurts like HELL. *no pun intended*

At its most extreme, Pluto is God's RAGE, the powerful destructive force that shows us how far we've strayed off our authentic path and true selves.

My belief is that, as we continue to mature individually and collectively, our perception of Love will expand, and we'll be more able to tap into Pluto's loving vibration more frequently.

I mean, look at it! Have you noticed that the planet literally has a HEART on its surface? How fascinating!

- Foxbörn

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ 1

ᴄʜᴀʀᴛ ʀᴇᴀᴅɪɴɢꜱ

ᴡᴀɴᴛ ᴛᴏ ʙᴜʏ ᴍᴇ ᴀ ᴄᴏꜰꜰᴇᴇ?

[the-oc-lass]

Nimona OC - Charlotte Swiftheart/Corova

I'm so glad to see that my little stupid pun (shambrosius) is doing so well (considering my usual reblog numbers). Truly, I'm glad this place can appreciate some of my stupid humor.

Anyway, time for sibling shit. This one is longer and I live for it.

First, Previous, Next

She crouches down beside Norshe, peering into the sanctuary through the dirty skylight.

"Is he here yet?" she asks, looking over at her fiancée. Norshe nods.

"We saw him arrive. He's talking to someone at the door, though. We didn't see who," she says. Charlotte purses her lips.

"And his reinforcements?" she asks. Norshe glances at another KB member, who shakes her head.

"We haven't been able to locate them. Either they're very good at hiding, or he didn't bring any," she says. Charlotte hums, but her train of thought is interrupted by the echoed cries of a baby. She looks down into the sanctuary, and Ambrosius walks into view with a wiggling bundle in his arms. He looks positively lost. Even so, he's holding the child with the utmost care and gentleness, and he looks so soft-

No, she scolds herself. She can't let her guard down. This could still be a trap. Still, they can't leave that baby down there. She sighs.

"Two of you stay here. The rest of you, with Norshe and me," she says. She receives some firm nods, and she stands up again, turning and starting to make her way down from the roof. They go in through the hidden entrance that she showed Ballister, moving quietly. She gestures for the KB members to spread out, to surround Ambrosius from the shadows. Eventually, Ambrosius lifts his head and spots Charlotte and Norshe moving toward him. The baby's wails are even louder now that they're close, and Ambrosius clearly has no idea how to soothe them.

"Char-"

"Let me see," she says, holding out her arms. He stares at her for a moment, then looks down at the child and purses his lips. It looks so tiny and helpless in his arms. After a moment, he carefully shifts the baby into Charlotte's still waiting arms, and she gently rocks the child, making soft shushing noises. At the edge of her gaze, she can see Ambrosius's hands fidgetting, and his gaze hasn't left the child in her arms.

"Her mother...She said that she had to get her baby out of their house. It wasn't safe for her there." She looks up at him, and there's sadness in his eyes. "Her name's Lucele." Charlotte looks down at baby Lucele, taking a little while longer to soothe her before she turns to Norshe. Norshe silently takes the baby from her, and Charlotte crosses her arms.

"Get her out of here. Bring her somewhere safe," she says. Norshe's gaze immediately snaps to her.

"I'm not just going to leave you here with him. I don't care if he's your brother, Chari. I don't trust him," she says. Charlotte tilts her head slightly, a serious look on her face.

"Norshe," she says. "Please." Norshe looks back at her, desperation and reluctance on her face. But after a moment, she sighs in resignation and nods.

"Fine." She turns a sharp glare on Ambrosius. "If you hurt her, you'll lose a lot more than Ballister did."

"I would never hurt her," Ambrosius says immediately. Norshe's glare doesn't waver.

"As if you haven't already." She swiftly turns away, marching back in the direction they came from. Charlotte gives a sharp whistle.

"The rest of you, escort her back. I don't want anything happening to that baby." She glances up toward the skylight. "And I mean all of you." Norshe stops and turns around again.

"Chari-"

"Trust me." Norshe frowns deeply, then looks at the baby in her arms. She sighs again.

"Let's move," she calls. Charlotte watches her go, listens to the footsteps of her and the other KB members recede. She takes a moment to steel herself, then turns back to Ambrosius.

"Can your reinforcements just wait until they're gone? They aren't part of this," she says. She watches his eyes sadden.

"Char, I didn't bring-" As he takes a step toward her, she can't help but shift backward slightly, hand jumping to the hilt of her sword. He freezes, wide, hurt eyes locked on hers.

"You turned on Ballister, Ambrosius. The man that you claim to love, who you told me you wanted to spend the rest of your life with. How can I possibly trust you?" He turns his head away, face full of shame.

"What was I supposed to do, Charlotte? They were all right there. She was right behind me, in my ear. Everyone was looking at me to make the call." He looks back at her again. "Do you think I wanted to do it? Do you think I wanted to do any of this? Hunt him, betray him, betray you, chop off his arm? The only reason I'm the one searching for him is because if I don't, Todd will, and he wants to hurt Bal. I had to do something." She looks at him for a moment, searching his face for any trace of deception. But it's like her mother once said: Ambrosius is an awful liar. None of what he said is a lie. She slowly lowers her hand from her sword.

"No reinforcements?" He shakes his head firmly, and she sighs, crossing her arms. "Then why did you come, Ambrosius?" He winces slightly, perhaps from her tone or from her lack of his nickname, then shifts slightly and pulls his cloak—no, not his cloak. Not his usual one, at least—more securely around himself.

"I...I don't know. I guess...I just wanted to talk to Bal, or you, or both. I needed to explain," he says, looking away. She purses her lips for a moment.

"Well, you explained. Anything else I can do for you?" she asks. When he looks at her, there's hurt in his eyes, and she has to take a careful breath to keep her neutral expression. She hates that look. She's always hated it. She wants to look away, but something about that sad, pained gaze has her pinned.

"I'm sorry," he says, voice barely above a whisper. He shakes his head. "I'm so sorry, Charlotte." Her face remains stone still, but her fingers flex against her arms.

"I know." He stares at her for another few moments, but nothing else is said. Instead, he looks away, and for a moment, he looks so very young. Vulnerable, lost. She's brought back to six years ago, standing before him at her mother's funeral. The day he made her a promise that he was never able to keep. She turns her gaze to the floor, fingers digging into the skin of her arms. "I should hate you." She listens to his breath catch.

"What?" She drops her hands, and they curl into fists at her sides.

"After everything that we've been through, today and nearly every day for the past six years, I should hate you. For over half a decade, I wanted to. I wanted to hate you so badly. I wanted to build something good, like the Knights Betrayed, just to spite you. To spite the Institute. To show you that I didn’t need you. That I was thriving without you.” Her jaw clenches for a moment, then everything relaxes all at once, and she looks up at him. "But I couldn’t. Even after everything, I loved you. You’re my brother, my best friend. In all that spite that I convinced myself I carried, I was also carrying the hope that you’d see what I built and be proud of me. Despite what the Institute and the Director did to me. When I wanted to hate you, I couldn’t. I still can’t. And it makes me so mad, because you-“

"Because I deserve your hatred." He chuckles humorlessly. "I hurt you, and Bal. I’m the reason you’ve uprooted everything you built. I cut off Bal’s arm and tried to arrest him. You should both hate me.” She stares at him for a moment.

"You screwed up, Ambrosius." He huffs.

"Understatement of the century." A beat passes.

"We don't." He looks at her again. "Hate you. Bal and I. We don't." His jaw clenches for a moment, and she thinks that there might be tears in his eyes.

"Why not?"

"Because this isn't you, Ambrosius. When I look at you right now, I see a stranger. I know you. I know who you are. And this isn't it. You're so caught in the desire to make everyone happy and do what everyone expects that you've lost yourself." His eyes widen for a moment. He doesn't argue with her or try to deny it. He simply looks away. She frowns softly, facade dissolving, then takes a few careful steps toward him. When she's close enough, she lifts her hand to gently tilt her face back toward her, forcing him to look at her. "We miss you so much, Ambrosius. Come back to us." His eyes flit between hers, and he lifts a hand, fingers just barely curling around her wrist.

"I can't," he whispers. She doesn't know why she expected a different answer. He's...him. This all means too much to him. She knows what kinds of expectations he has laying upon him. He can't put those down. He doesn't know how. He's never known. She doesn't meet any resistance as she pulls her hand away.

"You know what’s happening is wrong. You know that the Director isn’t telling you the truth. Bal is innocent and you know it." For a moment, she sees the clarity in his eyes, and she has hope. "So what are you going to do about it, Brosi?” He stares back at her, but words seem to be failing him. She takes a step back, intending to leave him with that bit of encouragement. But then his hand finds her wrist again, more firmly than the first time.

"Who did that to you?" She looks up at him for a moment, thoroughly confused until she follows his gaze down to her right arm. Ballister wrapped the wound she got earlier, but there's a little bit of red seeping through certain areas of the fabric. She shakes her head.

"I got it during the fight earlier, I don't know who it was. It doesn't matter," she says. But he's not pleased by that answer.

"Of course it matters! Someone hurt you and it's my fault!"

"It certainly wasn't you who cut my arm, Ambrosius."

"But I'm the one who ordered them to arrest you. They wouldn't have touched you if I'd told them not to." And that bit is true, but she finds herself arguing anyway.

"Hey, come on-"

"He blames himself for a lot of things, but I think this one is actually on him." They both whip their heads around, and Ambrosius is immediately turning and stepping in front of Charlotte, shielding her. There he is. This is the Ambrosius she knows. The protective big brother, even though they're only around 8 months apart. Charlotte peers past him, recognizing the voice. Alieza.

"What are you doing here?" Ambrosius demands, one hand on his sword while the other is held out to further shield Charlotte. Alieza pulls her hood off her head, letting Charlotte see her face properly. It's older, more mature, but Charlotte still recognizes it as the face she once adored so much. Her dark braids are tied back, out of her face, and Charlotte remembers learning to weave those braids into Alieza's hair. Dark eyes stare at them, but there isn't any hostility in them.

"For all the sneaking around you and Bal did, you’re not very good at actually sneaking around, Ambrosius," she says, almost seeming amused. However, the amusement quickly goes away when she looks toward Charlotte.

"Hi, Char."

"Ali." Alieza stares at her for a moment, then sighs and shakes her head.

"I can't believe I didn't see it," she says. Charlotte pushes Ambrosius's arm down and shifts forward slightly, standing beside him instead of half behind him. He glances down at her, then at Alieza, hand still hovering over his sword.

"See what?" he asks. But when Alieza looks up again, she isn't looking at him.

"The whole scandal. It was him, wasn't it? He's why you left. You were protecting him." Charlotte purses her lips. "Ambrosius is your brother."

"Half brother," she corrects. "But everything else is true." Alieza stares at her for a moment, then sighs.

"I always wondered why you didn't tell me. I wondered if they knew." She gestures toward Ambrosius, but the inclusion of Ballister in the statement is obvious. "I thought I'd moved past it, but then I saw you today, all rebel leader and kicking ass like you used to, and everything came back to me. How you left, and not even six months later, Ballister was angry at you and Ambrosius wouldn't talk about you. You were like a phantom, haunting me. And I always wondered if there was some way I could've made you stay. But I thought about what you said to the Director today, and I realized that I couldn't have. You had to protect Ambrosius, and the only way to do that was for you to leave."

"I'm sorry, Alieza. I never meant for you to get hurt," Charlotte says. Alieza shakes her head.

"No, I know. I was upset for a while, but I never resented you for it. Even before I realized why you would've left, I saw how they all treated you once your real lineage was leaked. I remember how hard it was for you." She smiles just a little. "But your apology is appreciated, Char." After a moment, Ambrosius clears his throat.

"Is that why you followed me, then? You wanted to talk to Charlotte?" he asks. Alieza straightens slightly, and Charlotte remembers that Ambrosius is technically captain right now.

"I hoped that following you would lead to her, yes, but that's not why I followed you. I followed you because the Director asked me to." Ambrosius's hand immediately returns to his sword, but Alieza holds up a hand. "Before you jump to any conclusions, I'm not going to tell her that you came here. She mentioned that she noticed you sneaking out, and I volunteered to track you and report what I found. I'll just tell her that you went to clear your head." Ambrosius slowly relaxes again, then sighs.

"Thank you, Ali." She nods, then glances at Charlotte again.

"You should hurry and wrap things up, though. We need to get back before someone else misses us," she says. They both nod, and Alieza flashes Charlotte a small smile before turning and starting to walk away. However, she pauses and looks back at Ambrosius. "By the way, I think you should give Charlotte her cloak back, Captain." Charlotte turns to point at Ambrosius.

"I knew I recognized it!" Now that Alieza's pointed it out, she can't unsee it. The cloak is just a little too small for Ambrosius, just the slightest bit too short. She should've realized it sooner. He looks down at her.

"Well I couldn't let Blanche have it after you threw it over his head," he says. She smiles a bit, looking him over for a moment.

"Keep it, then. In case you need it," she says. He looks at the cloak for a moment, then back at her.

"Just until this is all over," he says. It puts a strain on her smile. She doesn't know how this is going to end, or when it will be over. She's trying to be optimistic, but...Well, she just hopes that they find a way out of it soon. She takes a step back, gesturing in the direction Alieza went.

"You should go." The relaxed look on his face disappears, and she almost feels bad for suggesting it. She doesn't want to leave either, really. This is the most they've talked properly since before the knighting ceremony. But there are things that have to be done. She rocks back on her heels slightly, preparing to move and leave.

"Char." It just takes the one word for her to move forward again, pulling him into a hug and holding on tight.

"Don't get yourself killed," she says, chin resting on his shoulder. He squeezes her back.

"I won't."

"If you do, I swear on Gloreth's name, I'll find it in me to hate you." He chuckles softly.

"I'd deserve it." She can't bring herself to let go at first. She doesn't remember the last time she hugged him. Was it that first time they reunited? What if something happens? What if he does get himself killed? He's safe here, with her holding on to him. If she lets go, he goes into the unknown, where she can't control anything. And of course, he seems to sense her thoughts, and his head turns slightly, tilting so he can press a kiss to her temple. "I'll be okay, Char. I promise." She inhales shakily.

"Swear on my mother's name." His arms tighten around her slightly.

"I swear on Minara Corova that I'll be back, and that I'll be okay," he says. She takes a moment more, then finally steps back, reaching up to set her hands on his shoulders.

"Then remember what I said." He smiles a bit.

"I will. I always do."

Lovely tagged people:

@ammonitetheseaserpent @perfectkittystranger @madlad06 @xxlunadrawsstuffxx @floxu

[ohabigailhowcouldyou]

Written in The Stars(igns)... ~pt 4(2)~

Author's note: This is Chapter 2, read Chapter 1 first.

Chris disposed of their uneaten, melted ice-cream, then set off back to the bus after giving the poor server a distracted wave goodbye.

He'd given Ricky a few minutes headstart, but had still held a vain hope that the other man would have waited for him. He hadn't, and Chris shoved his hands into his pockets, head down as he walked. His thoughts were racing, spiraling, loud and chaotic. Had he misread Ricky that badly? They'd known each other for so long, and Chris had never felt as out of his depth as right now. He'd been so sure...

When he got back to the bus, Ricky's face was hidden behind the camera he had focused on Vinny, pestering the drummer for an update. He didn't look at Chris, not even as Vinny begged him to do the update instead.

"My viewers wanna see you, Vin," Ricky insisted, shoving the camera closer to Vinny's laughing face.

Chris gave Vinny a helpless shrug. "Sorry, bud."

They were playing a festival the next day, band and crew tired and sweaty as they set up and prepared for their set alongside festival staff. One of them, a stocky guy who did something with the power connections for their equipment, had most of the Motionless camp in stitches with well timed jokes and puns in accented English. At one point Chris found himself doubled over, cackling, one hand on the guy's shoulder for balance. The man was grinning at him, pleased that the very risque joke had landed. Too pleased, maybe, as his eyes roamed down Chris' body for a moment. It didn't bother him much, he was used to these kinds of stares both on stage and off.

A sudden sound pulled their attention away though, in time for Chris to see Ricky storm away, a broken guitar left on the ground behind him.

"What the hell happened?" Chris demanded, abandoning his admirer to round on Connor and Logan, who were closest. Connor reached to pick up the guitar, its neck snapped from its body, while Logan answered his question.

"It was an accident. The strap gave out, or it hadn't hooked properly, and Rick dropped it. Not surprised he's upset, though, it's one of the newer customs."

"He has a back-up, right? For the show?"

At Connor's nod, Chris gave his shoulder a little pat before heading after Rick.

He found him easily enough, sitting on the ground outside of the trailer they'd been given as green room, knees drawn up, fingers knotted in his short hair. Not for the first time, Chris felt a pang of sadness over the loss of Ricky's long hair. Not that he was any less gorgeous now.

Without a word, Chris reached down, grabbing his friend's wrists in both hands and hauling him to his feet, using his size for advantage.

"What the fuck? Chris!" Ricky exclaimed, trying to pull free, but Chris tugged him closer instead, folding him into a tight hug.

"I'm sorry about your guitar."

At the words, Ricky's struggles ceased, and he sagged against Chris, a strangled sound escaping his throat.

"It's my own fault." He sounded like he was holding back tears and Chris squeezed tighter, resting his chin against Ricky's soft hair. He smelled like the same mint shampoo he'd been using for years. Chris felt Ricky's hands fist around the back of his t-shirt.

They stayed like that for several long seconds, until Ricky's uneven breathing had calmed and he pulled back from Chris.

He ran a hand over his face, and Chris pretended not to notice the redness of his eyes.

"Just a few more shows," Chris told him, "then we can go home. Rest a bit."

"Yeah, for a week, then back on the road for weeks on end, again."

"I just," Chris began, but Ricky cut him off.

"I know what you were trying to say and I appreciate it. It's just not what I want to think about right now."

"What do you want to think about?"

Ricky looked at Chris for a second, then turned away. "Not a goddamn thing, that's what. I need a fucking drink," and then, as if anticipating what Chris would say to the last statement, he added, "but I'll wait until after we play, don't get your panties in a twist."

"How do you know I wear panties?" The words left Chris' mouth before he could stop them, and he wanted to die as soon as the last syllable was uttered.

Ricky's cheeks went pink, but he just rolled his eyes. "You've worn enough skirts that it's not exactly a leap in logic." He started walking away as he talked, and Chris had to force his legs to cooperate to follow him.

"I haven't worn a skirt in a while, though." Chris had no idea why he didn't just change the fucking subject instead of digging himself deeper into this hole.

"The two aren't always mutually inclusive concepts," Ricky replied, still half a step ahead. "You could be wearing hot pink lingerie under that stage getup, and no one would be any the wiser."

The mental image conjured by Ricky's words had heat spreading across Chris' face. Heat spread across other parts of him, too, but he did his best to ignore it.

"What would be the point of wearing sexy lingerie if no one can see it?" He asked, and again wanted to strangle himself for not just changing the goddamn subject.

Ricky glanced over his shoulder, the start of his reply on his lips, just as Justin's voice rang out; "Who's wearing sexy lingerie?"

They had reached the rest of the band and crew, Justin, with his eyebrows raised, standing nearest to them.

"The monster under your bed," Ricky answered without missing a beat, the stress of the last couple days seemingly replaced by the smartass, manic energy he sometimes displayed.

Chris took a moment to collect himself before throwing his all into the work that needed to be done. That way, he didn't have to think about anything at all.

After their set, Ricky dragged Justin and Ryan away to help him search for alcohol, and Chris went back to the bus. He took a quick shower just to rinse off the worst of the stage sweat, then sat down on one of the bench seats to remove the remnants of his make-up. He had pulled on shorts and a tank, his damp hair clinging to his neck. As soon as the make-up was wiped away, a restless energy curled under his skin. He squeezed past the guys playing video games and got off the bus again, grabbing a cap as he went. He walked around the festival grounds for a bit, enjoying the sunlight on his skin, the noise of the people. The feeling of being alone in a crowd had never been unpleasant for him, but all the same, he found himself looking out for familiar faces. One face in particular. He sighed, cursing under his breath.

He'd known Ricky for years, counted him among his best friends, shared memories both amazing and awful with him, so why did things suddenly feel so perplexing with him? It was like Ricky was a puzzle Chris had solved a million times, but suddenly a piece was missing, and try as he might, he couldn't figure out which piece it was.

Of course, a lot of things had happened in their lives since the end of the pandemic. Career growth and mental health issues, some relationships ending and others never taking off. There had been a lot of turmoil and changes, some better, some worse. It was bound to have some effect on their relationship with each other. Chris just never anticipated that that effect would be chaos.

He was so lost in thought that it took him way too long to realize he'd been recognized and that a trio of girls were approaching him excitedly. He smiled, trying his best to pay attention to what they were saying, their accents making it difficult. He took selfies with them, then signed their Spanish flag, before trying to politely escape their enthusiastic hugs. Finally, he managed to extricate himself, only to look up straight into Ricky's blue eyes. He was standing a dozen paces away, a plastic cup in hand, expression unreadable. Chris gave a relieved sigh and approached him, wondering how the girls had clocked him and missed Ricky, before noticing a smear of lipstick on the guitarist's pale cheek in the exact shade of purple worn by one of the cheerful trio.

"Hey," Chris said when he was close enough. Ricky raised a hand in greeting as he drained his cup and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

"Beer?" Chris asked, feeling like a dumbass.

"Fuck no," Ricky said, gesturing for Chris to walk with him. "Wine. Good wine, too, considering this is a metal festival and it's served in plastic cups."

"I'll take your word for it," Chris said, watching as his friend got another cup of dark liquid from a table set up under a tent. He'd skipped the line, but it didn't seem to matter, the guy at the table grinning and winking at him. Chris felt something acidic in his chest at Ricky's answering smile.

Oh god, he thought, a sudden wave of dizziness gripping him. He'd accused Ricky of jealousy, and here he was, wanting to rip out another man's eyeballs for looking at his bandmate that way.

"You okay, man?" Ricky asked, "you look a little pale."

"Yeah," Chris tried not to let his epiphany show on his face. "Just need some water."

Ricky nodded, turning back to the wine table and exchanging quick words, a warm smile on his face as the man handed him two bottles of water.

Chris took the bottle Ricky handed him with a quick thanks, downing half of the tepid liquid in one go. They were walking again, the evening starting to cool off enough that Ricky was at least not complaining about the heat. He'd removed the vest he played in, leaving him a Suffer Club shirt, tattooed arms and neck bare, and Chris tried to keep his eyes off the patterns of ink on his friend's pale skin. Porcelain skin, his mind supplied. Decorated and delicate. Fuck. Chris had no idea how to deal with any of the feelings raging like fire inside him.

Ricky was sipping his wine as they walked in surprisingly comfortable silence. He was humming under his breath, a melody Chris couldn't quite place. His lips were red, chapped from being bitten, stained by the wine, moving silently to form the words of whatever song was stuck in his head, and Chris wanted to kiss him so badly it hurt.

As the last drops of wine disappeared past his lips, Ricky finally gave voice to the song he'd been humming, singing the words quietly to himself.

"You say you want me but you know I'm not what you need

But I am"

Chris recognized the song now, Ryan and Vinny played it often. He'd never quite gotten why people considered Sleep Token sexy, until now. Until it was Ricky's quiet voice singing the words, lids lowered, one hand moving through the air to the unheard rhythm. Until Ricky tilted his head toward Chris, the blue of his irises like gasflame, one eyebrow raised, as he sang the next line.

"When you sit there

Acting like you know me

Acting like you only brought me in to get below me"

A shift happened in their friendship, moving the earth below them like the collision of tectonic plates. Chris felt it, the swoop of his stomach as he found himself balancing precariously on the edge of something that could be a peak or a chasm and he wouldn't know until he stepped forward and either found himself on top of the world, or plummeting to the depths.

Ricky had stopped singing.

"Chris," he said now, no longer walking, as if he too felt himself balancing on that invisible precipice. "There's something I need to tell you."

Chris shook his head, saw the expression on Ricky's face, and hurried to explain. "It's too crowded here, can we find a place that's a little quieter? Introvert problems, you know." He added sheepishly.

Ricky nodded, looking relieved, and they started walking again, toward the bus this time. The sun was dipping below the horizon, painting the world in gold.

As they neared the bus, they realized they were in luck. Most of the other guys were on their way to go watch that night's headliner, and Chris followed Ricky inside the bus, up to the second deck and the little lounge there. He closed the door as Chris took a seat. The ceiling was low enough that even Ricky had to duck his head while standing, so he also sat down. The bench seat wasn't that big, but Chris noticed he left a careful foot of space between them.

"What did you want to tell me?" Chris asked, removing his cap and running a hand through his hair. After the noise of the festival grounds, the bus felt silent as a grave.

"Don't want to," Ricky said, looking down at his hands. He fiddled with the black hair tie on his wrist. He still had make up on, his eyes startlingly blue against the smudges of black eyeliner. "But I think I need to."

After a few seconds of silence, Chris finally spoke. "I'm listening."

Ricky pinched the hair tie between his thumb and middle finger, pulled back and let go. It snapped against his skin and Chris winced for his sake, even though Ricky didn't seem to feel it.

"I wasn't entirely honest with you the other day." Ricky spoke without looking at Chris. "Firstly, when I said I wasn't having a sexuality crisis... I mean, it's not so much a crisis, as it is just being honest with myself about it, I guess. I don't know what, uhm, label I'm comfortable with, yet. But it's safe to say I'm not straight. So. That's the one thing." He paused there, to take a deep breath, then continued before Chris could even begin to think of what to say. "The second thing is harder to talk about. I don't even know if I should tell you, but there's enough alcohol in my system that I'm going to anyway."

Chris watched him snap the hair tie against his skin again, but as he pulled at it for a third time, Chris reached out a hand to stop him. Ricky froze, eyes on Chris' fingers curled around his. Neither of them moved away, and Ricky started talking again, voice so quiet Chris had to lean closer to catch the words.

"I told you that day that I wasn't jealous. That wasn't true, either. But you had it the wrong way around. I didn't care that they weren't flirting with me." He trailed off with a shake of his head, strands of hair falling over his eyes to rest on his cheeks, slashes of shadow against his white skin.

"I did, though," Chris said quietly. "It's insane to me that anyone wouldn't want you. It makes no sense that other people don't get breathless when you smile at them."

Ricky looked up at Chris, uncertainty written across his beautiful features, his hand trembling where it rested in Chris' grip.

Throwing caution to the wind, Chris leaned forward and pressed his lips to Ricky's. For a second Chris was certain he'd be shoved away, but then Ricky made a small noise in the back of his throat and kissed him back, hands pulling from Chris' to wind around his neck as Ricky moved closer to him.

Chris licked into Ricky's mouth, hands going to his hips to tug him up onto his lap, Ricky's knees on either side of his thighs.

They broke the kiss to gasp in air, and Chris pressed his lips to Ricky's tattooed neck, tracing the inked heart with the tip of his tongue, savoring the taste of him as he moaned and rolled his hips against Chris'.

With herculean effort, Chris pulled back, holding Ricky still so he could think clearly for long enough to speak.

"We both know that there are a million reasons why we shouldn't be doing this."

Ricky nodded, breathing uneven. "I still want to, though. I want you."

"Have you ever done this before? With a guy, I mean."

Ricky shook his head, then asked, "Have you? Are you even into guys in the first place?"

"Yes," Chris said, unable to help the fond giggle he let out. "And yes. Less often than women, but occasionally."

"Oh," Ricky gave a little nod. His hands were clenched together, pressed against the back of Chris' neck, and he could feel them trembling.

"It doesn't have to be now," Chris told him quietly. "If you're not ready."

Ricky seemed to struggle with finding the right words for a second. "It's not like I've never, uhm, read up on it. I'm not entirely clueless. And I'm scared that if it isn't now, it won't be ever. What if we go home and whatever attraction or lust you're feeling right now disappears?"

The last bit was said in an awkward rush, Ricky's cheeks flaming red.

"It won't disappear, I promise. If it were only lust, maybe, but Rick... I am very much in love with you. Have been for a long time, if I'm really honest. And I probably will continue to be in love with you for the foreseeable future, regardless of which country we're in."

Ricky's eyes were wide, searching for the lie or mockery on Chris' face, and finding only sincerity, he leaned in to kiss him again.

After an endless moment, he pulled away just enough to speak, his lips still brushing over Chris' in a way that sent shivers down his spine.

"I'm in love with you, too."

The piece Chris had felt like he was missing seemed to lock into place at Ricky's words, a puzzle solved, a heart made whole.

[natureplay]

୨୧Chapter VII • 8-Ball

୨୧Masterlist

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Word count: 2.5k

Today you are nervous as ever. You barely slept all night.

Leon being Mrs Ledger’s grandson? It really is the ones you least expect. You would’ve never thought he was the type of person to just not contact his family, especially his helpless grandmother, and leave them at the mercy of life. It makes you see him in a different light.

Whenever he’s at the office, you can’t say he’s very sociable. He keeps to himself for the most part. Though he jokes around with people you can tell there’s a part of him he’s not showing. There is a certain emptiness hidden in his eyes that anybody could notice if they looked at him for more than five seconds. A void inside of him he tries to hide or fill up with corny puns that are so bad they’re good.

You try to get everything out of your head. Every stray thought, every doubt, anything that might distract you. Today, you can’t afford to be distracted. You have an important mission and agent Eric Williams is counting on you—and you on him.

You’re at your desk preparing for the mission when a presence hovers above you. You look up and meet those mesmerizing blue eyes; like the sky on a warm summer day. Leon.

You’re a bit surprised by this, he doesn’t usually come by your desk

“I thought you might need this” He sets down a cup of coffee in front of you.

“Thank you, Leon”

You look back at the computer screen, but you still feel his presence around you. What does he want? 

You look up at him again. He looks lost in thought.

“Is everything alright, Leon?”

He looks at you a bit startled.

“Oh—yeah! It’s nothing. Good luck on your mission, you got this” He smiles warmly.

You nod and regard him as he leaves. You can’t help but check him out. Leon is a good-looking guy. Most women that work have or had a crush on him at some point. You can’t blame them. He’s very pleasing to the eye.

You get tenser and tenser. Probably shouldn’t have drank 3 coffees and 5 energy drinks. This is an important mission. He came by before leaving to have a little chat and reassured you everything will go well. He gave you a hug and rubbed your back like you were the one going on the field and risking your life.

Fortunately for both of you, the mission was done nine hours later and it went well. There were a couple of hiccups along the way, but nothing major. Eric is still alive with just a few minor injuries, and your heart didn’t stop from all the caffeine you consumed.

By the end of those nine hours, you couldn’t be more exhausted. You couldn’t wait to get home, run yourself a bubble bath then relax by catching up on your favourite show.

You’re gathering your things trying to hurry so you won’t lose the bus.

Not that many people are left in the office, even Hunnigan is gone. You count four other people all trying to wrap up their work.

You hurry to the elevator door and notice the familiar head of blond hair emerging. Leon smiles and greets you with a friendly ‘hello’ which you simply give a nod in response. 

“How did the mission go?” he asks as you both enter the elevator.

“It went well”

You’re too tired to be having a conversation right now. All you can think about is that bubble bath and the warmth of your bed, feeling cosy under the covers. It’s enough to make you want to pass out.

“I knew you’d do well”

“Thanks” You smile and meet his ocean eyes. His ocean eyes hold so many secrets in them you want to unravel them all.

“Are you taking the bus home?”

“I am. I hope I catch it in time”

“I can drive you home!” he says, almost too quickly, “I’m already going there—To visit my grandmother. You’re not going to inconvenience me”

You think over it. It would certainly be faster than the bus, and he was already on his way there.

“I would appreciate that”

Leon guides you to his car. It’s a black Toyota Camry.

He’s nice enough to open the passenger door for you. You thank him and get in. The air in the car is citrusy and floral.

The car ride is mostly quiet. Leon is focused on the road and you looking out the window trying not to fall asleep. The radio is on playing a Gwen Stefani song.

The car pulls up in the parking. You unbuckle your seatbelt and get out. You and Leon get in the elevator. It’s mostly silent between you two, but not the awkward, uncomfortable silence that usually happens with Eric, no. It’s a relaxing silence. Or maybe you feel that way because you’re so fatigued.

“Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow. And thanks for the ride” You take out your keys and smile towards Leon.

“Don’t mention it” He walks over to the door of his grandmother’s apartment, “Good night”

“Good night”

You take off your shoes and throw yourself on the couch. Your back was aching, and your eyes burned. You go to the bathroom and start the tap to fill your bathtub. You gather your favourite soaps, bath bombs and bath salts and pour them into the water.

Maybe you were a little dramatic with this mission. After all, on your second week, you assisted in a mission that lasted thirteen hours. But you haven’t been taking care of yourself properly these couple of weeks. You’re always in a hurry, almost always forgetting to eat, and the only liquids you drank were coffee and energy drinks. That can’t be good for your health.

You go to your bedroom fetching a comfy pair of pyjamas and a fuzzy pair of socks.

Going back into the bathroom, you strip and get in the bathtub letting the hot water ease your muscle. Everything feels good. You close your eyes trying to relax.

You sat through the meeting, mind numb and eyes half-closed. The words of those speaking seemed to be in stereo; on one side was their actual voice, faint and distant; on the other was an echoing drone of filler words and tedious jargon reverberating inside your head.

Only with great effort could you keep yourself from dozing off in your chair as time dragged by inch by inch. What felt like centuries later, several people started talking at once: that signalled it was almost over - a merciful end to this endless ordeal!

You take a step out the door and Eric close behind. He was quieter than usual today. You turn your head to look at him.

“You good, gramps?”

If he was going to call you a ‘kid’ it was only fair you called him something in return.

Eric nodded and gave a faint smile, “I could say so. How about you kid?”

You smiled in return, “I’m really glad we managed to get out of there. I think my brain just melted...”

You both head towards the break room, eager to grab a cup of coffee to help you get through the rest of the day. As you push the door open, the scent of freshly brewed coffee hits you, and you both take a deep breath.

You walk over to the coffee machine, and as you start pouring yourself a cup, you notice Leon and Hunnigan sitting at one of the tables. They seem to be engrossed in a conversation, and you can't help but wonder what they're talking about.

Ingrid has her lunch box open and you notice her popping grapes in her mouth.

Eric notices you staring and follows your gaze to the table where Leon and Hunnigan are sitting. "Looks like they're having a serious discussion," he says, raising an eyebrow.

You nod in agreement, "Yeah, wonder what it's about."

Eric takes a sip of his coffee and shrugs, "Who knows, it's probably work-related. Let's not eavesdrop."

You nod in agreement and turn to head back to your desk, but as you do, you catch Leon's eye. He gives you a warm smile, and you can feel your heart skip a beat. You smile back.

Your favourite part of the day, the end of the shift finally arrived. Time seemed to pass slower and slower and it seemed like a millennium has passed.

As you make your way out of the building, you spot Leon and a familiar woman with a red jacket standing outside, deep in conversation. You hesitate for a moment, not wanting to intrude, but then the woman looks up and notices you. She waves her hand at you, a big smile plastered across her face.

“Hey there!”

You don’t know what to do. Ignore her, don’t ignore her. If you pretend not to seem that would be an ass move and it will make you feel bad. You don’t know what she wants from you, but you see Leon panicking, trying to stop her.

The brunette walks up to you “I’m Claire, Leon probably told you about me” She extends one of her hands towards you.

“Oh, nice to meet you, Claire” You shake her hand. Hers are smooth and soft.

Leon never told you about anybody named Claire . Not like he had any opportunities to. Or reason.

“Are you free Saturday?” she asks.

You could lie and say you’re very busy. Make up some excuse when in reality you’re just going to be laying on the couch, just letting the day pass.

“I’m not really sure... Why do you ask?” You look over at Leon, who is still in the same spot already staring at you. He looks away almost immediately.

“Well, Leon and I were just talking about going out this Saturday, to have some drinks. I would love it if you could join us!”

Her blue eyes sparkle with anticipation. You hesitate for a moment, feeling a flutter of excitement in your chest, "Sure, that sounds like fun"

“Great! I will pick you up, is that alright?”

The rest of the week went by in a hurry. It's Saturday, and the nerves have been building up inside you all day. 

You spend a little extra time getting ready, trying on a few different outfits before finally settling on something that makes you feel comfortable and confident. As you wait for Claire to arrive, you try to distract yourself by reading, but it's no use. The anticipation is just too strong.

The doorbell rings and you rush to answer the door. You asked Leon to give her your address.

Claire stands at the door with her motorcycle helmet in her hand and a big grin on her face. "Hey there! Ready to go?"

You take a deep breath and nod, trying to hide your nerves. "Yeah, let's do this."

Claire gives you an encouraging smile and motions for you to follow her. You step out of your apartment and lock the door behind you, following Claire out to her motorcycle. The cool evening air hits your face and you pull your jacket tighter around you as you walk.

Maybe you should buy a motorcycle...

Claire hands you a helmet. "Here, safety first."

You take the helmet and put it on, feeling a little silly but grateful for the added protection. You climb onto the back of the bike and hold Claire’s waist tight as she revs the engine and takes off down the street.

You arrive at the bar in almost no time. It’s the same one Leon and you met at.

You spot Leon already at a table, drink in hand. You approach him and greet him with a smile.

The night was going well so far. Claire was hilarious. She told you many stories of her life and Leon’s life. Their lives are so much more interesting—and traumatising—unlike your boring mundane one. The most intriguing story you had to tell was about the time you snuck out of the house to meet up with your then-partner and your mother didn’t find you in your room so she called the police.

Somewhere along your conversations, the topic of pool came up.

“Yeah, I’ve never played it before”

Leon looks shocked at your words “Not even once?”

“Nope,” You shake your head.

He looks around and spots a pool table.

“Do you want to play?”

“I’m not sure—”

“Come on, it’ll be fun!”

He gets up and drags you along with him, leaving you no room to disagree. His hand is wrapped around your wrist, dragging you along with him.

“Are you sure you want to play with me?” you ask, staring unsurely at the pool table.

Leon looks at you as he’s chalking his pool cue “It’ll be a fun experience. Are you afraid you might lose?” he taunts.

“Yes,” you say sincerely “I never played before, I don’t see how that’s fair”

“Relax, I’ll go easy on you”

At least he’s kind enough to explain all the ground rules to you, which go over your head completely.

“Do you know how to play now?” he asks.

“Yes” No.

Leon notices how unconfidently you said that. He lets out a chuckle.

He bends over the pool table, one hand in front of him resting on the table the other holding the cue stick.

“The cue stays parallel with the table. You can balance it on your hand however you want, just make sure it doesn’t touch the table...”

He explains everything to you again. This time you retain a bit more information but having him explain the rules a third time would be bothersome.

You lean over to have a closer look even if you have no idea what he’s talking about. You get in the same position as him and try to copy what he’s doing. You two are right across from each other. Leon starts giggling.

“What?” you ask, confused by his sudden outburst.

“Nothing,” he says “Did you really understand what I’ve been telling you so far?”

You stand straight and nod.

“Good. You can go first”

You get into position. Cue stick parallel to the table, resting on two of your fingers. You line the stick with the white ball and prepare to hit it. Just as the cue was about to make contact with the ball, something tugs on it.

Looking back you see Leon tugging at your stick.

“What?” you ask.

“You’re doing it wrong. That’s not where you hold it from”

Leon leans over you. One of his hands going to rest next to yours on the table, and the other one going to grip your cue.

He’s so close you can feel the heat radiating from his body and his scent entering your nostrils. Your heart starts picking up its pace.

“You hold it from here” He guides your hand lower on the cue stick, his hand staying on top of yours. Your stomach turns inside out and your head starts getting foggy.

“Make sure you have them aligned properly”

Then he guides your hand father back and helps you get a good hit on the white ball.

“And that’s how you do it,” he stands back up like nothing just happened.

You also stand straight, clearing your throat and muttering a low thanks to him. Leon only smiles and then starts moving around the table, assessing what the best shot would be.

୨୧Masterlist

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[the-pale-goddess]

Based on my real life experience today - I have an ask.

Ethan accidentally because he'd never be this much of a dick says "He needs to babysit" their kids and your MC overhears this.

How does your MC react?

Real life experience? Oh, dear…I’m so sorry that you had to deal with this shit. But hey, at least it inspired the ask! Thank you for sending it my way 🫶🏻 (and a few other–apologies for the unavoidable delay, I will try to answer them asap! They’re all amazing and I really appreciate you, Elsa ❤️)

If Ethan were to drop this bomb by accident, it could only happen very early into parenthood when he’s still a little lost, very insecure and quite overwhelmed by the surreal experience he thought wasn’t in the cards for him.

Tiffany would figure that he didn’t really mean what he said, but it wouldn’t stop her from teaching him a lesson the Addams way kdfjdkfjdsf

She struts around Grumpsey’s office in her 4 inch black leather pumps like she means business, waiting for unsuspecting Ethan to finish a phone call.  He’s too busy admiring the sensational view to pick up the clues warning him of impending danger.  When he’s finally available, she walks to his desk with an unreadable smile unfurling on her face, then spreads her arms wide and sets her palms flat on the wooden surface. The energy she exudes is far from coquettish, and a single, powerful look she casts allows him to immediately pinpoint the reason behind her unannounced visit–he fucked up.  „I overheard your conversation with Tanaka earlier and it made me realize that we never discussed the details of our arrangement—your salary is obviously the primary concern.”  Undeterred by sheer confusion overtaking his features, Tiffany continues; the misleadingly docile tone of her voice throws him into a defensive mode just as he’s trying to connect the dots and decipher the hidden message.  Her sarcasm, however, strikes him faster than any logical thought. „Hopefully I can afford your services…I won’t be able to find a proper replacement at such short notice. How much do you charge per hour? You know, for babysitting our son.” Ethan breaks into a cold sweat when the most unfortunate word choice begins to replay in his mind in slow motion. The dumb pun felt harmless at the time, but now? Now he’s the blithering idiot explaining himself, his brows tangled in a rueful frown. „Tiffany, I didn’t intend to say something this moronic and inconsiderate. Parenting and babysitting shouldn’t even be used in the same sentence, I should have been more thoughtful.” „I know.” She winks, relaxing slightly; the sudden shift in her demeanor makes Ethan breathe a sigh of relief. “Just wanted to make sure you’ll never repeat the same mistake again.”  „Do you plan on recounting this embarrassing anecdote every year on NJ's birthday?” „No, but I’ll get you a special Father’s Day shirt that says: my son's favorite nanny.” „Christ…Please, don’t. I’ll do anything.”

[icecoffee90]

Few differences I noticed in the first chapter of the German version of Open Heart

After seeing @jamespotterthefirst post about the differences between the English and Spanish version of Open Heart, I figured I'd check out the German version (even though my German is nowhere near as good as it was over 12 years ago).. I was especially curious about the jokes in the diamond scene.. Okay, let's get to it..

1) In that vending machine scene, MC likes Maoam!! I freaking LOVE Maoam!! 😅 Doubt that those would be something sold in a vending machine but whatever, lol *adds Maoam to the shopping list*

2) The joke:

So the translation of the joke is:

Patient: "Doctor, doctor, everyone's ignoring me!"

Doctor: "The next one, please!"

I don't think there's a pun hidden in there, but unfortunately I can't be certain.. So if any German speaker sees this and would be kind enough to tell me, I'd truly appreciate it!

3) The other joke in that scene:

So I googled the full joke (as well as what the pun was supposed to be) and it goes:

Der Bademeister geht in Rente. Er hatte eine chlorreiche Karriere!

Which should translate to: A lifeguard is retiring. He had a chlorious (a pun on "glorious") career!

4) Annie's 'still' studying English in this version (unlike the Spanish one)..

5) This scene is basically the same as well, but I think Bryce's response sounds better in German, lol

I just think "I have a chance with everyone" sounds better than the original, idk..

[iicheeze]

Hello hello! You can call me Luna,she/her,I'm here for the match-up event! Nice to meet you!

My hobbies include drawing,painting,reading and learning. I especially love history and languages,as one said 'One language is one person',getting to know others' and their culture & history is so interesting to me! And I honestly can draw and paint for hours. There are so,SO many beauties around us that it feel like I can get to appreciate them more by drawing or painting them.

Mostly,I'm cheerful and happy,sarcastic sometimes but never to the point of hurting others. I...also like corny,awful puns and I'm not sorry,they make me laugh every time 😂 I participated this event because it's hard for me to connect with people and make friends,so hopefully this'll help somewhat. It depends how talkative or quiet I am whem chatting with someone,but I'm always present even when I don't look like it. After getting close and becoming friends with someone I try to spend time with them,hug them,show them that they're important to me through diffirent ways if they're okay with it too of course.

Ah,forgot about what I don't like. Well,I don't like rude and close-minded people,situations or things that limit me if that makes sense? We all should be able to thrive and bloom like all those pretty flowers around us.

These are kind of trivial but it won't hurt to write a few : I got a big sweet-tooth and suprisingly,I bake when I have some free time. It's even more pleasant when there's company,so I hope I can share some sweets with whoever wants to be friends with me someday!

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ You have found a- wait.. Two matches? ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

Very nice to meet you, Luna! To be straight with you, there are two people writing this letter. Please, call me Sole of the Deep. I'm also interested in reading as well! My favorite book has got to be the Legend of The Sword. Its storyline is interesting, not to mention the illustrations! I recommend you to read it.

From where I'm from, it has a very interesting history. Well, you can't really say it's history, considering that it happened not long ago. I'll just say it includes me in it, in the background, of course. I don't want to toot my own horn, but, I'm a strategist of some sort!

I'd love to see your paintings someday. I'm sure it'd look absolutely glorious. Drawing nor painting is no easy task. Especially when it comes to details. Artists are like hidden gems, buried in the sand, waiting to be discovered. I have a very deep respect for you artists. I'm sure it's very difficult!

That's the end of my letter. The other person I was talking about will write in the very same paper I write now. I hope you two get along!

Hello! From what I noticed from your letter, I saw that you have a sweet tooth, right? Oh, yeah, you can call me Top-Dog General! I also have a sweet tooth. From my line of work, eating sweets are very rare. You can say I'm a general in a military!

Most of the time, the food we eat are meant to be fast, quick, and efficient. I might say it's not really the best, but it's food! It never really has any seasonings, let alone sugar. But still! I'm grateful for what I eat!

So, everytime I actually get to eat sugary things. I'd go crazy for those! I love cake and Tricolor Dango especially! One day, when we do meet. I hope we both can share them! Food always tastes better when you share them with your friends.

Also, Sole of the Deep is what you could say, well, my senior! Sure she says she's a strategist.. And she is! A very good one as well! She always leads our fights to victory. But she's actually very nice! And considering as well. If only she wasn't very tired due to her work, she'd probably have the same energy to be as cheerful and energetic as you! Though, at least I still have the energy to match with you. Haha!

Oh, and, I'd like to see your paintings and drawings one day! Maybe when we actually do meet, could you bring one of your workings? I'm sorry if this makes you uncomfortable, and it's completely okay if you don't want to!

The paper is about to be filled soon and it's getting a little too crowded. So I hope we both get along well!

P.S (This is from Sole of the Deep) Don't worry about being alone if you're talking to Top-Dog General! He's always there to accompany you, and if you are scared of the dark, I can always accompany you and maybe have late-night walks together!

Kindest Regards, Sole of the Deep & Top-Dog General.

＊*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚ What an interesting duo! Would you like to send another letter? ˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚＊

[burningcerberus]

HIDE AND SEEK

By

Aealo

Summary:

Sansa Stark gets lost exploring Red Keep's infamous and dangerous network of ancient, hidden passageways.

As usual, The Hound comes to the timely rescue. Or does he have a more sinister, nefarious purpose for being there in the first place?

SANSAN one shot. No angst. Pure smut. Contradiction in terms? Pardon the pun. This is not HBO show version. BOOK CANON Age & Appearance, (big muscled physique, slight anger/alcohol issues and no odd-AF half-beard as per book for Sandor, because facial hair with 3rd degree burns is just not going to fly) Sansa is aged up to 16 for story purposes. Sandor Clegane age unchanged at 27. If this age gap makes you uncomfortable, please skip this fic as it includes explicit content and sexual tension.

Notes:

Author's Note:

First off, I'd like to thank everyone who reviewed; kudosed & bookmarked my first humble SANSAN offering As Above So Below. I appreciate you all! From the bottom of my heart, Thank you. You keep me going and writing more.

Here we are with another SanSan ficlet. Alright, let's call it smut-fest and leave it there? Heh. Not much romance in this one. Okay, a little bit. (Strange huh) No angst to speak of. (Ok, strange is an understatement now, as I live and breathe Romance&Angst.)

Not much of a purple prose in this one either.

Just shameless smut and unresolved (or shall we say semi-resolved?) sexual tension. Smut. I did mention smut, did I not?

Perhaps a sprinkling of romantic tension, too. Petty Petyr, Varys and Lady Margeary are briefly mentioned because drama.

As usual, Book version SanSan. Not the HBO show version. Once again guys, Fair warning: Sandor remains unchanged at age 27, Sansa is aged up to 16 (Westerosi age of consent) for story purposes. If you are uncomfortable with the age gap, I'd definitely skip this. So, a bit of OOC, a pinch of a canon divergence simply because of Sansa age.

Sansa is a bit OOC. Less of a sook. Girl has backbone. Or she is hormonal, take your pick.

Oh, Common sense, wherefore?

I hope you guys enjoy it. Please drop me a note or a kudos if you do. I would most definitely appreciate your support, keeps me going.

If you don't, no dramas. Can't please everyone; in Ned Kelly's immortal words: 'Such is Life.'

Compulsory Authors Note 2:

Just to clear a few things up, I have nothing against the HBO show or Rory McCann & Sophie Turner; it's just that I much prefer the book version characters, especially when it comes to the Hound. I've always envisioned a passionate, intense young(ish) man in his prime at 26-28 according to the books, and muscled and built like a tank as per book, with varying degrees of anger/alcohol issues, not a 40+ year old who seems subdued and sort of toned down, shadow version of himself if that makes sense.

Hound is described as cleanly shaven in the books, or rather, he is not said to have a beard or stubble in the books, and I agree it is not only a much better look for Sandor Clegane, but half a beard would look downright weird AF! - As facial hair wouldn't grow on the burned side! I get that hair might grow back depending on the severity of burns but come on mate; do Sandor's scars look 1st or 2nd degree burns to you, with his jaw bone showing, skin and muscle seared away so badly that from the description we can easily surmise his burns are -at the very least- 3rd degree? Think about it. Why do you think the man brushes his hair over that burned scalp? Exactly.

As for Sophie Turner, the actor is lovely and all, but she just does not fit my vision of book Sansa.

Anyhow, without further ado,

I give you…

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

'Heard melodies are sweet, but those unheard are sweeter.'

Ode on a Grecian Urn - John Keats

HIDE AND SEEK 

SANSA

Sansa was lost.

Utterly, hopelessly lost.

Her apprehension grew as she progressed deeper into the network of hidden passageways built into the Red Keep, her only source of light coming from the waxen remains of a rapidly melting stub in its brass holder.

When Sansa had undertaken this daring -alright, make that foolish- adventure on a curious -harebrained- impulse, she could not have foreseen the daunting task of having to navigate an entirely stuffy, and endlessly confusing labyrinthine passageways that seemed to connect, extend and stretch on for forever. Twisting, winding passages occasionally led to nondescript doors, all locked and barred from the inside. 

Sansa had heard that if one followed a certain route and knew what they were looking for in the way of markers and waypoints, one would eventually emerge in the dangerous underground tunnels that led to Blackwater. 

Or, straight into the Dungeons.

Oh, wonderful. 

With my rotten luck, I know where I am more likely to end up…

By the Sweet Seven, Sansa thought, these passages all look similar! The layout was even more confusing than the rules of Cyvasse. For a moment, Sansa pondered whether she should retrace her steps all the way back to the cellars. If she did not return to Meagor's Holdfast in time for the evening bell, Joff would send the Kingsguard to look for her! That meant more beatings and punishments. Not even Lady Margeary would be able to subdue and stay the King's psychopathic cruelties this time.

She let out a dismal little sigh, her gut churning with the unpleasant memories.

Sansa hoped, nay, prayed that if anyone did come looking, at least the Hound would be tasked to bring her back.

The man was blunt, harsh, rude and arrogant but at least he treated her with…What? Kindness? 

That has to be it, decided Sansa. The Hound was gentle-ish, in his own way. He was the only one who had come to her aid during the riots, even abandoning his own beloved black warhorse, Stranger, to look for her and rescue her. My hero…Not to mention standing up to his King in front of the whole court and cloaking her 

half nakedness. 

Well, he threw his cloak at her to be precise, but still. The man clearly cared for her to an extent. 

How gallant and courageous the Hound is underneath that snapping bark, thought Sansa with a little, dreamy sigh. So very brutally strong too, to have taken on that frenzied mob on his own. Swoon!

Sweet Maiden, he is so huge and fierce in that dark plate of his. Swoon indeed!

Twas true, the Hound was not exactly pleasing to the eye…well alright, he was downright frightening and naturally intimidating with those gruesome burn scars twisting all over the left side of his face and throat, but for some peculiar and unknown reason, Sansa found Sandor Clegane…appealing. And exciting.

It had nothing to do with his muscles and size, of course, right Sansa Stark? 

Alright, Sansa, you can stop drooling, anytime now.

Appealing? Exciting? 

Oh by the Maiden…What am I thinking?

I am a flighty little bird after all, thought Sansa, with the oddest notions in my head.

Cease your daydreaming and concentrate on the task at hand, Sansa Stark! 

Sansa held her melting candle aloft and followed the narrow, cobwebbed passage. The erratically flickering, weakened flame threw sinister shadows across the dripping walls.

By the Sweet Heavens, tis revolting! This whole place is just awful! 

Sansa grimaced at the musty, rust coloured stains oozing down the walls. To make matters worse, the hem of her saffron yellow skirts and little half-boots were already grimy with a disgusting substance of unknown origin. She felt the gossamer caresss of yet another large cobweb hanging from the ceiling. Something scurried past her feet.

Rats! 

Yuck! Gross!!! 

Sansa cringed in disgust and gave the rodents a wide berth. However, Sansa Stark had more pressing problems. 

Her already dim candle flickered unsteadily in the sudden icy draught that rushed into the corridor. The weak light could not withstand the cold gust of wind. 

Suddenly entombed in near complete pitch darkness, Sansa nearly jumped out of her skin with panic and fright. 

Uh oh.

By the Seven Heavens! No! 

I do not want to be stuck in this airless, narrow space with no light, with only Gods knew what else dwelled in the dark!

Why oh why did I not bring an extra taper?

Lesson learned, Sansa.

I have to keep going.

In a frantic bid to find an exit, Sansa blindly groped about and rounded another sharp corner.

Just as her eyes were slowly adjusting to the lack of light, Sansa heard the scrape of a boot in the dark.

With a sudden chill of realization, Sansa realized she was no longer alone. Panic, despair and dread crawled down Sansa's spine. 

Oh by all the Old Gods and the New, who can it be?? Lord Varys? 

Her heart pounding a loud staccato beneath her ribcage, Sansa paused for a moment to concentrate on the sound that was rapidly filtering into her awareness.

Heavy boots. Creaking leather. Clanking spurs. 

By the Mother and Maiden! Who can it be?? Friend or foe? There was no telling who could be roaming these passages.

Whoever it might be, mayhap they know a way out of this awful place? They surely must. I don't want to be stuck here! I have to risk it!

"Hello?" Sansa called out warily. Her voice sounded like a nervous little squeak in the dark.

She received no response. 

"Who is there?" Sansa chirped out, thoroughly unnerved and trepidatious now.

Utter, persistent, dead silence.

Suddenly, the footsteps sped up towards her.

Sansa gasped, her imagination taking wild flight and conjuring all sorts of monstrous entities that might be lurking in the dark and laying in wait to ensnare and gobble up foolish little birds like herself.

The steps were getting closer. Long, heavy, aggressive stride. Uh oh.

Sansa's frantic haste to get away from the frightening, unknown presence resulted in her slipping on a slimy puddle on the already slippery ground. She shrieked.

"Aahh! Mmpff-

Suddenly, a big hand clamped over Sansa's mouth, cutting off her screams. Sansa was pulled back against a towering, very strong, very hard and very male body, steadying her and holding her indecently close. Sansa froze in fear.

SANDOR

Fuck me sideways! 

This girl is constantly falling arse over teat. 

Speaking of…

She looks so damned good in that saffron coloured dress that accentuates her high, perky breasts, with a lavender sash around her tiny waist, highlighting the enticingly swaying divine curve of her hips. Her waist length wavy hair tied back in a thick auburn braid with a lemon yellow satin ribbon…

Practically glowing in the dark.

Certainly looks the part of a rainbow summer bird for true. 

Clumsy, daft, tiresome, pretty little bird…

Smells good too.

Damn and thrice blast, but Sansa bloody Stark is fragrant like a lush spring garden, all sweetly budding blooms and fresh, ripening fruits…

Buggering Hells, Dog! Forget all of that! What the fuck is she doing here?!?

"Another game of hide and seek, little bird?"

The Hound's deep rasp sounded directly behind Sansa, whispering into her bright auburn hair. 

He took his hand from her mouth, but did not set her free from the inflexible cage of his arms.

Sansa's heart fluttered. Her entire body was abuzz with excitement and hidden, secret yearnings generated and enhanced by the Hound's extremely close and potent proximity and amplified by the darkness that surrounded the two of them.

He was unarmoured? Garbed in some kind of plain spun woolen tunic and leather breeches from what she could feel.

Keep your groping hands to yourself, Sansa Stark!

"Oh, its you." Sansa chirped out brightly and slackened with instant relief against the Hound. "My lord, you scared me!" 

By the Mother and Maiden! This man is a life saver, Sansa thought. Literally. He always seems to mysteriously manifest out of the shadows to lend me timely assistance just when I'm about to fall or worse…

Scared you, did I?

"What else is new." Clegane muttered cynically under his breath, then brought his half-burnt lips to her ear, his warm breath gliding over her skin. "Keep your voice down, Birdling. We aren't alone here."

"Who else is wandering these halls, my lord?" 

Lord Varys, I expect, thought Sansa, the enigmatic man was fond of using these passages to eavesdrop on people. Tools of the trade.

Long raven hair brushed against Sansa's cheek as the Hound muttered in her ear. 

"Do you mean to tell me you have never heard of the phantom of Red Keep?" 

"No, my lord!" Sansa stifled a gasp of fascination and surprise, eyes going big and round with barely contained enthusiastic glee. "I was not aware the Keep was haunted? Do you suppose it is the restless shade of the Mad King, or mayhap a Targaryen ancestor? Oh I would dearly love to see a ghost!"

"Not quite." The Hound's whisper dropped a pitch lower, darker and deeper. His half-burnt mouth twitched.

"See, this particular entity cleaves to the shadows and appears when one least expects him. He stalks these passageways in search of lost little birds."

Sansa blinked a few times. 

Her heart skipped a beat. 

Is he…flirting with me???

By the Maiden! He so is! 

The rude and arrogant, stern and stoic Sandor Clegane, Hound, Kingsguard, Joff's Sworn Shield no less, is flirting with me! There was definitely a very suggestive undertone to that rasp!

Her ladylike manners and modesty momentarily flown from their carefully composed cage, Sansa hid her excited smile.

She drew a deep breath. The perpetual scent of steel, leather, spilt blood, sour red and male musk enfolded her from behind and seemingly all around, warmly melting into her skin, making Sansa blush a deep crimson. 

Her flushed skin was now very warm to the touch, as hot as the Hound's, in fact. Seized by a sudden wicked, mischevious impulse, Sansa whispered back softly.

"What does the apparition do when he 

finally captures the said bird, my lord?"

Sandor Clegane arched his good, heavy black brow.

The fuck!? 

Is Sansa bloody Stark flirting with me???

Me, Sandor of House Clegane, low born Westerman? 

Me, the big, scary Dog?

Not the reaction I was expecting, not that I am complaining. 

Here I thought she would recoil and cringe in terror.

Well, what do you know…

Brave, reckless little lady!

You're playing a dangerous little game here, Birdling. Way in over your head. 

I must admit you got me intrigued, however!

The Hound took Sansa's chin from behind, tilted her head back. Stared down into her huge blue eyes. 

"Why, he eats her up whole, of course." He breathed the words against her cherry mouth, a magnetic, sensual undertone to the husky, deep rasp. For a long moment, his mouth hovered over hers. Saw her eyes widen and lips tremble and part on instinct. His dusky hair drifted over Sansa's heart-shaped face as the Hound bent a little lower to plant a slow, lingering, possessive kiss on the hollow of her throat instead.

Ye Gods, but I'd fucking eat you alive, little songbird! 

I'd take my sweet time too, and slowly feed on your peachy smooth skin. Devour your soft, dewy flesh. 

If only I were not Kingsguard and Joff's Dog to boot…

Fuck's sake, Hound! Don't bite the hand that feeds you. 

Snap out of it, man.

Look but don't touch!

Too late now.

Game is on.

"Mmhh…" Sansa let out a soft moan before she could stop herself.

The fire ravaged, twitching half of the Hound's lips left a most peculiar and exceedingly pleasant impression on her smooth skin.

Like scratchy, crushed velvet. Oddly pleasant and very warm.

A deep shudder and molten heat as of a warm tongue licked down Sansa's spine, transforming into wetness pooling between her thighs. Her legs felt wobbly, her lower belly tingled and clenched with anticipation for more. 

By the Mother and Maiden!

This man is even more confident, bold and brazen than I initially thought.

Absolutely shameless.

Goodness gracious! 

He just kissed me!

Well, he kissed my throat, to be precise, but still!

He must be drunk as a lord!

Or is he?

I know I shouldn't stand for such impudent, lewdly vulgar behaviour, but…

I…think I…am falling! Crushing…Flying…

Is he amusing himself at my expense or is he as enamoured with me as I am with him?

Sansa lowered her voice to a softer whisper. Giggled nervously to cover her mounting embarrassment.

"In that case, your timing is impeccable, my lord. I have been wandering these corridors for the past hour or so in search of an exit, but I must confess I am a little lost." 

"With your abysmal sense of direction, is it any wonder?" The deep, gravelly rasp was layered with faint contempt. 

Sandor Clegane's arm encircled Sansa, pulling her closer and tighter against him, driven by a deep, instinctive desire to protect her and…

Fuck!

Look at this rare little bird all flushed and unresisting.

Unafraid!

So fucking pretty…

The Hound stared down at the beautiful, red-headed maid caught in his unyielding strong-hold, a faint, dark sneer twisting the fire ravaged corner of his mouth, silver grey eyes aglitter with passionate intensity.

So soft and tasty and enticing. I could just taste and take that pouting petal mouth and she could not do a thing about it.

Taste? Don't you mean plunder and ravage, you savage Dog?

You want gentle, girl? Too fucking bad.

Speaking of petals…

I bet she smells and tastes like paradise between those pretty, long legs of hers. 

Untouched and unsullied. 

Pure and wholesome.

All strawberries and cream. 

Dewy with heavenly nectar. 

Sealed nice and tight…

Fuck! 

Get your mind out of the gutter this instant, man. Down, Hound.

"Well, since you are here, my lord, perhaps you might show me the way? Guide me?" A sweet, timid little whispering chirp tumbled from her rosy lips.

The twofold meaning in Sansa's words did not escape the Hound's notice.

Seven fucking hells!

Look at that sultry smile.

What is she doing?

Does she think to mock me?

Tis easy to play pretend in the dark, is it not, little bird,

When you can hardly make out my scars,

Can barely see my accursed face,

What do you think I am?

Some blooming chivalrous knightling from your books?

She's asking for it, alright. 

This is one bold and brave little bird who isn't afraid to poke and tease the savage Dog. 

Go on, then, prod some more, why don't you?  

How would it feel to tear her apart, kiss by bloody kiss?

Sansa gasped and blushed furiously as she heard the Hound's soft snarling grunt in her hair and felt his hardened manhood lurch and pulse against her rear. Her toes curled in her little boots.

By the Maiden! This man is hard and huge ALL over! 

And so irresistable…!

Sansa, atremble with the head-spinning potent brew of deep longing and pent up desire, tried to cling onto some semblance of girlish modesty and ingrained sense of manners but her body betrayed her almost instantly. 

Possesed by raw, almost primal instinct, Sansa arched her hips slightly and pressed herself more snugly against the Hound's raging erection.

The actual Fuck! 

Is the maidenly, shy and bashful little songbird grinding and rubbing against the big, scary Dog?!

Oh, Fuck me! She is.

Fucking tease!

All dewed with sweat and burning up for me.

So fucking irresistable!

Show you the way and guide you huh? 

Careful what you wish for, little bird.

"Naughty, wicked little girl." The Hound chuckled darkly, planting a slow kiss just beneath her ear, feeling her pulse flutter frantically like a captured little butterfly. He could practically smell her arousal.

"What is it that you want me to show you, exactly?"

"A…a way out of here, my lord." Sansa stammered and whimpered breathlessly, squeezing her legs together. The sensual overload was starting to erode her sanity and demolish her reasoning. Sansa felt the Hound rub his closely shaven jaw against the thick, fragrant red river of her hair. 

Sure that's what you meant, little Songbird. And I'm a buggering anointed knight.

"And into my private quarters?" The Hound flicked his tongue over her neck. He tugged her little puffy sleeve down, slowly tracing a wet line across her exposed shoulder. His warm breath caressed over her overly sensitized, flushed skin. 

"Mmmhhh…private quarters?" Sansa echoed, robbed of breath and reason, her mind turning to mush, her body writhing needily against him.

"Just me and you." The Hound murmured against her heated, peaches-dipped-in- cream skin, his voice lowering to a deeper and raspier timbre.

His large, battle-roughened hand glid slowly up her thigh, taking his sweet time to feel and explore her over her skirts. Heard her breathing turn sharp and shallow. 

Holy fucking Hells!

Am I dreaming or 

Is this exquisite creature moaning for more?

Is Sansa bloody Stark practically swooning in my arms? 

Fuck me!…I'd give anything to rip her smallclothes off and grab those silk stocking covered pretty legs by the ankle and…

Or I could take her right here, right now. Pin her against the wall, wrap her around me and-

Or, I'd be kneeling between her thighs with her pretty legs draped over my shoulders for that deep penetration, my mouth suckling on her nipples and…

Or I could bend her over, easily achieved in this position. Lift up her skirts, pull her underthings to the side and…

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!!!

"Locked in a cage together." The Hound kissed another deep whisper into the smooth skin of Sansa's neck. Clegane tightened his grip on her beribboned long braid coiled tidily beneath a pearl encrusted, gossamer net, unconsciously loosening it first, and then freeing it from its confines in one go with a savage tug. 

I'd rip that dress off, grab you by the hair, lick every inch of your skin, throw you down on that hard mattress of mine, spread your long legs and go to town…

She wouldn't know how to ride me proper, but I could teach her. A flesh and blood throne for the Northern Princess. She'd clench down on me, using me as her mount, her nails digging into my skin, eyes rolled back, bouncing up and down, taking her pleasure, our fingers linked together, or my hands cupping her perspiration dewed breasts, tweaking her stiff nipples…

Or we'd be doing it upright, completely naked and covered in sweat, I'd be picking her up, her silky legs tightly wrapped round my waist, her arms wound round my neck for support, clinging hard and fast to me, my hands grabbing her buttocks and brutally impaling her on my rock-hard cock, forcefully and relentlessly thrusting into her tight, wet little hole for my pleasure as we keep intense eye contact, mouths sealed together…

Oh FUCK! 

Sansa could clearly feel the heat emanating from those big, long fingers and seeping into her skin even over the satiny fabric of her gown. A hoarse growl tickled her ear. His erection throbbed violently against her curvy bottom. Swallowing convulsively, Sansa reached a dainty hand back to weave her fingers into the Hound's dusky hair. 

"Cage…?" Sansa repeated like a simple. She could barely breathe. Her wits were completely scrambled, her manners long flown away. Pure desire took hold and would not let go. Her underthings were soaked, her legs jellified.

"Alone and naked together." 

The Hound's lips caressed along the side of her delicate jaw. His cock felt cast in steel - he was that hard, as he slowly rubbed and thrust against Sansa's sweet arse.

Sansa wetted her suddenly parched lips, her eyes half closing, glazed with searing lust. Between her slick petals, her delicate bud was swollen and aching to be touched, the sudden, aching hollow deep inside her begging to be filled to the brim. 

Fucking Hells! 

I want you so much. 

I want to take you and tease and pleasure and satisfy you for hours.

You have no fucking idea how much 

I just want to…

Bury my aching, rock-hard cock all the way to the hilt deep inside your tight little cunt and endlessly drain my balls into your womb. Fill you up until you are overflowing with me…Lick the salty sweat off your skin…swap positions and start all over again…until we both cum hard, entwined and rolling and writhing together…Again. And again…

Fuck this game! Tis torture, naught more!

"All tangled and twined together." The Hound's voice was a low rumble as his left hand trailed upwards Sansa's bodice and cupped her breast. 

He could feel her little heart hammering out of her chest. 

Arousal and fear created a potent alchemy, after all. 

Amplified by the dark, cramped  atmosphere, it transmuted into a devastatingly intense, powerful aphrodisiac.

Every inch of her perfect body was vibrant with the euphoric, volatile brew.

Fuck me! She's only a small-ish handful but so damned perfect. Feels so damned good. 

Everything about her is pure and true and good.

Every gorgeous lash of auburn, every tiny freckle, every breath she takes, the way she blushes to the tips of her delicate little ears, every sunny smile she generously throws my way, her cool, dainty hand settling on my arm, threading into my hair…

Fucking Hells, I can't get over the erotic images in my head. Just the two of us, in various positions and states of undress, burning all night long…

You are so beautiful.

I am fucking hideous.

I wonder what our babes would look like…

Sansa let out a quiet sobbing moan. Her nipples grew stiff and achy as the Hound massaged her breast over her dress. Squeezing and cupping. Why wouldn't he just loosen her laces and slip his hand inside her bodice already! Her hips rolled and writhed against him. Her elegant hand tightened in his fine midnight hair. The Hound's erotic assault on her senses was starting to reach unbearable levels.

"I wager you'd sing prettier than a nightingale in my cage, little bird."

The Hound nuzzled Sansa's neck and growled a guttural curse. His erection was straining in his breeches and the tip was starting to leak a little. Sandor Clegane could not recall being this painfully hard in his entire twenty-seven years of life.

Mayhap I should just have my way with the princess and rid her out of my system! 

Lay this obsession to rest.

Banish her from my soul, once and for all.

She has taken deep root in my core.

It is me, who is way in over his head…

Sing me a song, pretty bird, sing only for me. I would give anything for one song…

Fuck this game to the blackest pits of Hells! I will have a song from you, whether you will it or no!

Wait.

Hold that thought.

I heard something.

The Hound abruptly went still, his head coming up swiftly, grey eyes sharply scanning the semi darkness ahead. 

He was sure he had heard something, someone imperceptibly moving, a subtle shift in the air.

Ah, there it was.

There was a muffled noise and another rush of cold draught swept into the passage.

Sandor Clegane fully snapped out of his sexual haze at the sound of the faint, catlike-stealthy footsteps.

The Hound motioned Sansa to be quiet and listened closely. The sound was coming from the far end of the darkened corridor.

Buggering Hells!

What the fuck is up with the increased foot traffic in these passages tonight?

Sansa paused to listen as well. She was still disoriented, unsteady and fogged up from searing arousal.

The Hound however, was alert, staring deliberately past her into the obscuring darkness.

"Someone's coming this way!" Sansa whispered urgently, grabbing the Hound's muscle-bound arm, eyes going wide and round. 

"Hush!" Clegane warned softly, putting a finger to his lips.

A small lamp flared. Its shutter slid open.

Littlefuck! What the Hells is he doing here?

You thought to corner this little bird, did you not? You slimy bastard!

Over my dead fucking body!

Suddenly, Sandor Clegane grabbed Sansa Stark's hand and tugged her briskly towards the concealed doorway. He turned a small, hidden lever behind an empty torch sconce and shoved her unceremoniously into the unlit, unoccupied room that the hidden mechanism revealed.

Behind them, the door slid back into place soundlessly.

SANSA 

Sansa took a step forward in the dark and came up hard against the Hound.

Oops! I am not groping, I swear it!

"Thousand pardons, my lord!"

"Bloody Hells, girl!" He barked out in agitation and steadied her with a heavy hand on her slender shoulder.

His mood changed again, Sansa sighed quietly to herself. Scorching hot one minute, cold and distant the next. Tis nothing short of baffling.

The Hound released Sansa, stepping aside and turning away to adjust himself before lighting a candle. 

A deep, grim frown darkened his brow.

Buggering Hells! 

This girl never fails to addle my wits. 

Planting erotic fantasies in my head just by her mere presence.

To the point of utter madness where I'm actually fantasizing about getting her big and round with my babe.

Watch it Dog. 

One of these nights you'll lose control and go too far.

Way too far, past the point of no return.

Then we'll both be royally fucked.

Sansa calmed herself down and examined the large room with curiosity. 

Where did the Hound bring me?

An armoury?

Amber candlelight gleamed on the sharpened blades that lined the stone walls. Finely crafted massive halberds almost thrice her size, knights lances, poleaxes, double edged, dual handed longswords, several shorter blades of varying lengths and designs, battle axes, morning stars, maces and warhammers glinted menacingly. The weapons were sharpened to a vicious edge; the balls and chain looked well used; none of the displays looked ornamental. 

Suits of piecemeal armour, chainmail, heavy plate, visored full helmets with unfamiliar crests stood like silent sentries against one wall.

There is a hidden switch somewhere in this armoury, but I have no clue as to where. Behind that suit of plate mayhap?

There has to be another one in the Serpentine. 

So, this is how the Hound just appears out of the blue. Not that I'm complaining! He always seems to be there when I need him the most. Shadowing my steps. Rescuing me like the hero he is.

"What in the Seven buggering Hells were you doing sneaking about those tunnels, girl?" Clegane asked with a frown, jolting Sansa out of her reverie.

She slid the Hound a thoughtful glance, trying not to openly stare. It was impossible to focus her attention on anything or anywhere else.

The man was only partially armoured for the night. Didn't look any less fierce for it. 

His tall, powerfully muscled physique was more than obvious and still clearly well defined beneath the maroonish red woolen tunic adorned with the black leather dog's head, tight black leather breeches tucked into heavy boots and dark vambraces on his wrists and forearms.

His raven hair looked overdue for a cut, sweeping past those big, broad shoulders. 

The cleanly shaved, unmarred half of his face was uncompromisingly harsh and stern, his gruesome, burnt features eclipsed by the undulating shadows. 

A dark leather sword belt completed his attire. The blade seemed to be an extension of the man; The Hound was never seen without his longsword and a dagger hidden somewhere on his person. He probably feels naked without his weapons.

Speaking of…

Sansa's gaze involuntarily drifted downwards, a little to the centre, at the clear outline of his large, bulging manhood. 

It twitched under her shameless scrutiny!

Oh Sweet Heavens, that thing looks brutal and enormous, like the man himself!

The Hound folded his arms across his chest and leaned a hip against a high stone slab. A grim smile slashed across his face. 

No, rather, the man was smirking smugly. He knew full well where Sansa's attention had strayed and lingered.

By the Maiden!!! Don't stare!!! Avert!

Dear sweet Gods…Kill me right now! 

Sansa wanted to just disappear in a puff of smoke, she could barely suppress her groan of burning mortification.

The Hound's half smirk grew even more superior and arrogant, his lip twitch more pronounced. She saw his bared teeth.

Turning a brighter scarlet, Sansa quickly averted her face. Oh look, an axe! Yes, focus on that. 

"Are you dreaming?" The Hound sneered. "Answer the question, little bird."

"What? Oh, right. I..uh..I was exploring the Keep, my lord."

Hmm. So what is this, not a hatchet? Yes, keep looking at the weapons. Safer this way.

"How the fuck did you find those tunnels?"

"Through a hidden staircase in Meagor's Holdfast." Sansa clasped her hands demurely in front of her. Stole a quick, guilty, furtive glance at the Hound. 

Great. Just lie to his face, why don't you, Sansa. Lie until you're blue in the face. That will endear you to him for true. 

"Don't try my patience, girl." Clegane's silvered grey eyes narrowed, his square jaw clenched. "I want the truth."

Sansa sighed softly.

"Lord Varys mentioned in passing that there might be a concealed door in the castle's main kitchen."

"Go on." He pushed himself off the table and casually strode towards her.

He looks…a little angry. And very aroused.

Oh dear Heavens! Look away! Abort! 

"I, uh, snuck down into the cellars and found the hidden doorway; by sheer chance, mind you." She chirped out hastily.

Sansa was sure there was another hidden entrance in Lord Varys's private bedchamber. 

"Fucking Hells." The Hound scowled darkly. "That is no place for a soft, clueless little bird like you. The entire place is quite literally a death trap. One misstep and it's off with your pretty little red-head." 

Sansa chewed the edge of her lip and lowered her lashes.

"Then I count myself fortunate indeed that you have found me."

"Why, you wanted to kill us both, did you?" A dark smirk crossed the Hound's lips.

"No of course not, my lord!" Sansa protested. The man was looming extremely close now. She should retreat a step, but her body wouldnt obey.

Swords.. daggers.. warhammers…um..

Gods, he is terrifying. And so bizarrely, wildly attractive, burns and battle scars and all!

Sansa averted her reddened face once more, her gaze flicking across the array of polearms. Fidgeted. Lances…Uh…

"What the fuck would you have done if I hadn't come looking for you?" 

Clegane grasped her jaw and tilted her face up to his. 

"You came after me?" Sansa smiled up at him, ignoring his vulgar turn of phrase. Her lake blue eyes were brilliant with gratitude and deep, girlish infatuation. A dreamy sigh escaped her lips, her heart melting right into her little half boots. "You rescued me once again."  Like a hero in a book!

"Bloody Hells, you are a daft little bird, aren't you?"

Sandor Clegane sneered viciously down at Sansa Stark.

"But so pretty." He brushed his thumb over her plump bottom lip. His rasp was a low rumble. "Prettiest little bird I ever saw."

By the Maiden! So romantic…I think my heart is about to burst! 

Sansa's blush deepened to a crimson rose, she swallowed delicately, tucking a lock of auburn red behind an ear, fidgeting slightly. 

The Hound's breathing turned slightly ragged as his grey gaze blatantly raked over the the lush, pouting spring blossom mouth, the milk and lilies of her peachy soft skin, freckle-kissed tops of her breasts, the alluring outline of her graceful curves. 

He sank his fingers into her auburn waves, cupping the back of her head.

His gaze dragged back towards her face, and the Hound slowly bent his head down towards hers.

Oh Sweet Maiden! Is he going to…

Sansa, in turn, leaned in a little closer. Studied the Hound's face. His high, gaunt cheekbone. His nose that had been clearly broken a few times and not set quite right. His brilliant eyes. The awful, irregular red crevices and grooves of his terrible burns. The bone in his jaw where the fire had seared away a small portion of flesh and muscle. The grim, brooding, twitching mouth.

The said mouth curled in mocking contempt, grey eyes flashed with savage lights. Abruptly the Hound pushed Sansa away.

Sansa blinked. What did I do?? 

No, honestly, did I do something wrong?

I was so sure he was going to kiss me just then. 

He shamelessly flirted with me!

Made my heart sing!

Was it all one big jape to him? 

It must have been. Sigh.

How can I just go on as if everything were quite normal and fine and dandy? 

"Time to go back to your cage, birdling."

Clegane said flatly. His eyes were heavily shadowed. Turbulent, stormy grey waters that gave nothing away.

Why, is it time for you to return to your kennel? 

Sansa was fuming inwardly, but her serenely composed expression gave nothing away. Or so she hoped.

Fine, be that way, my lord. 

The game is over, I suppose.

"Fine." Sansa said quietly, and walked past the Hound with as much dignity as she could muster, a high, regal angle to her chin and a shuttered expression on her face. She struggled to suppress her frustration, vexation and unrequited feelings to the best of her ability.

Behave yourself, Sansa Stark.

You are a Princess of the North.

A Lady's armour is courtesy.

Twas nothing but a silly fancy.

A little make believe in the dark.

A jape, naught more.

He was just mocking me.

I just can't keep up with his mercurial temper and odd moods.

How could I be so foolish as to entertain the outrageous notion of an illicit romance?

He doesn't like me, anyway. 

Does he?

The Hound grabbed her wrist as she haughtily strode past. 

"Lady Sansa." His rasp softened to a husky edge.

"Yes?" Sansa halted and glanced up. Her heart danced a little faster. Her pulse raced. Hope shimmered in her royal blue eyes.

Just kiss me already you dense, insufferable big brute! 

Seduce me! Woo me!

Dont be scared!

"Don't forget your candle." The Hound's twitching lips were curved in a faint smile.

Ooh! How dare you! The man's a tease!

"Thank you, my lord."

Sansa offered him a tight, strained smile, almost gritting her teeth with frustration, and gracefully accepted the freshly lit taper. Yanked it out of his hand, rather.

Stuff it, she thought. I'll do it myself.

"Clegane?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you for coming to my rescue." Sansa rose on tippy toes and planted a butterfly-soft, but lingering kiss on his marred cheek, very close to the twitching edge of this mouth. 

Last thing Sansa Stark saw over her shoulder as she reached the exit, was the Hound's totally stunned and dazed look. The man was staring after her like a lackwit, mouth agape, rendered speechless, perhaps for the first time.

Serves you right, thought Sansa. Now it was her turn to smile smugly. 

Hide all you will, maybe next time I'll be the seeker in this little game of ours, Hound!

THE END 

[nottonyharrison]

Fic Authors Self-Rec!

Rules: When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass it on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love!

Thanks for the tag, @keyrousse it's been a while since I've been shoulder tapped for one of these so i thought I'd show my appreciation that someone out there remembers I exist by doing what it says on the tin and plugging a bunch of my own stuff, rather than doing my usual and forgetting to respond for months. To be fair this has probably been left long enough to be sort of awkward, so sorry about that.

To preface, I don't actually really have faves because there are layers and layers to my 'do I still like this' cake, and sometimes the filling's missing but the answer is still yes, so instead here's five random fics i have weird soft spots for.

Postscript [ST Discovery, E, Michael/Book/Pike] only two chapters in but the first time I ever played around with a work skin and I'm pretty happy with how it turned out

Knock Yourself Out [SW Repomm, E, Fi/Sev/Parja] IDK I just like this one

Of Duty [SW TCW, E, Rex/Ahsoka/Cody, Bly/Aayla] longest fic I've ever written, on hiatus and only half done but it gets a spot just for the excessive plotting and foreshadowing and other probably pointless bullshittery I've put into it

Different Toned Flecks [SW TCW, E, Fox/Vos] consolation prize for best pun hidden in the title

Pick Your Moments [SW TCW, E, Ahsoka/Fives] gets on the list for the technobabble

I always feel like I'm bugging people when tagging them in this stuff and feel even weirder considering it's self recs as in You Are Not Obliged To Engage With My Work (even though I don't feel that way about being tagged please don't ask me to explain myself sometimes brains are just dumb) so please if you want to do this consider it a genuine go nuts and share your stuff.

[barbie-necromancer]

that joke isn’t funny anymore. i’ve read more books in the past two weeks than you’ve read in the past year so shove your head further up your ass so i don’t have to deal with you spewing shit all fucking day