#but nothing set in stone yet ya know

[rosicheeks]

4. what are you looking forward to?

20. what is your favourite song at the moment?

33. something you want to learn

😊

4. Not much right now tbh. For my life to turn around and get back on track.. does that count??

20.

^^ I just found this song tonight. Had no clue owl city was still making music.

^^ another favorite song

33. Something I WILL learn is an instrument (probably either piano or guitar but I’m open to any)

Also want to learn and be fluent in another language.

[deityofhearts]

even if it’s not very far, the idea of moving away from where I’m at now (like the general county) seems very exciting and is like idk I think a step in the right direction

[nyimasu]

tags! — size kink is strong in this one, implied power inbalance, teasing, poly relationship, oral ( -> reader, buddha), cum eating, pet names, glove kink, slight gagging because qin shi huang is demanding, emperor kink (yes, you read it right) — wc: 2.3k

REBLOGS ARE HIGHLY APPRECIATED!

It’s the way you always seem to be so comfortable around the most dangerous and volatile gods that ever existed that catches everyone’s attention. Despite being a mere human your walk is steady, unfaltering. Your chin is up, hair flowing with the wind. 

No one can intimidate you, not even all the pantheons combined. And everybody knows why.

You never bend the knee to any god, not even to Hades himself, who has the (dis)pleasure of meeting you today. His silver hair grazes- no, cuts your skin as you walk past him in one of the many corridors running underneath the arena. And his locks aren’t the only thing tearing you open.

The air is thick with tension and thirst for battle, but the god catches a glimpse of a smirk on your beautiful face and he furrows his brow in amusement. 

What goes on in your mortal head is a secret only two gods have both the curse and blessing of knowing.

The fact you haven’t acknowledged his existence as the divine etiquette commands, however, erases every sympathy or interest Hades might still feel in your regards.

“Human girl.” his voice carries the faintest nuance of annoyance as he bores a hole in your back, still turned to him. You stop, only to glare at him from above your bare shoulder. He matters nothing, as if he’s just a human passerby who deserves nothing but to be quickly glanced at. 

What really sets him off is your tone, veiled with defiance and a dash of humour as you coo:

“Hello, Hades.”

Such arrogance cannot go unpunished.

The King of the Netherworld raises a hand in your direction, bident already materialising out of thin air as you only but stare at him, unfazed, when a swirl of hot wind envelops your body and you close your eyes out of instinct. 

A hearty laugh follows the moment just as your nostrils catch the aroma of candies fluttering all around you. Then, as your eyes open once more you feel the larger, stronger body of a god pressed against your front. You tilt your head up to meet Buddha’s enthralled gaze and his hands wrap around your hips immediately when his attention shifts to someone behind you.

Because another deity has your back — literally.

“And you didn’t want to intervene, huh? Whatcha have to say now, Ying Zheng?”

“Shut up.”

“That’s my line, idiot.” 

The little skirmish between the two doesn’t affect Hades in the slightest, rather his gaze grows colder as he watches you stand on your tiptoes to leave a kiss on Buddha’s cheek. The god smirks at that, and before he can do the same, the stingy kiss of metal graces your exposed nape and the intricate details of Qin Shi Huang’s nail guards imprint their patterns on your skin, making you pant softly. He doesn’t do so in a menacing way, not at all. 

Not yet, at least.

The two Kings stare at each other while Buddha finally takes full possession of your lower back. His hands are kneading your flesh when his attention drifts to Hades, his eyes still transfixed on your now relaxed form in Buddha’s arms. And an idea strokes his mind.

“Hey, Ying Zheng. Don’t ya think he is staring at our girl a bit too much? What is it?

Wanting to have a piece of her so bad that you can’t even look away from us? What would your wife say about your antics, Hades?” is what the deity lets out in the open shamelessly. He’ll be the first one to cast the first stone, and he knows for a fact that his partner will catch up right away.

And Qin Shi Huang does catch up, going even beyond Buddha’s wildest expectations. The King tilts his head towards Hades, blindfold covering his death stare as he chuckles in the sweetest of tones, smiling from ear to ear.

Because if there’s one thing the monarch hates the most is to share his beloved lover with others. Buddha is the only exception, for he transcends the boundaries between humankind and the divine.

“Is that so?” his words cut through the noises of your heart fluttering against your rib cage. Despite his saccharine smile and the little circles he’s drawing on your body, Ying Zheng is not to be messed with right now. He’s boiling with rage.

But what throws you off the most is Hades’ response. His gaze never leaves Qin Shi Huang’s as he steps forward, coming close enough to inhale the scent of you laced with the  two gods’. 

His smile is as sharp as a knife when he walks past Ying Zheng and you, stopping in his tracks once his shoulder brushes Buddha’s chest. Then his voice glides on you like molasses.

“My wife knows I love her dearly. But from time to time, we both love to explore new territories, meet new people, perhaps. What about you?”

He’s not talking to your partners, and you immediately turn and give him a genuine smile.

“If you put that nasty attitude of yours to rest for a night, I might consider it.”

Hades walks away at that, not before shooting the other gods a meaningful look Ying Zheng takes in with gritted teeth. Buddha, on the other hand, decides to tilt your head up and force you to stare into his eyes as he whispers, “Let’s fuck your attitude out of you, first. You’re with me, King of Men?”

A low hiss follows Buddha’s words. “Always.”

You’re in big trouble.

A large palm cups the side of your face, the warmth of it radiating onto your burning skin. You look up and sigh as the man finally gets a glimpse of your glassy eyes, of your hollowed cheeks when you moan around his cock, head bobbing up and down to fully take him in your mouth. It’s impossible, given his girth, so you resort to wrapping your fingers around the base. 

What can’t fit in your throat will be loved in another way. 

“What a sight for sore eyes you are.” Buddha’s tone is gentle but hoarse around the edges when he punctuates the last two words with a teasing thrust in your mouth. But it’s your widened eyes, laced with needy sobs and your hand pumping him to completion, that encourage him to do it again two, three times. He stares into your soul as you take each and every movement of his with little whimpers, stroking and licking and sucking his dick without faltering. 

Well, until you pull away. 

Buddha raises an eyebrow at that, but does nothing until he sees your pretty lips stretch in a sinful smile. And with that, they’re on him again, this time pressing soft kisses on the vein running along his shaft, your tongue coming out to play when you swirl it around his flushed tip.     

His hand on your cheek flies to hover over your nape and push your nose flat against his cock. “Do it again, and I’ll cum all over your face, petal.”

You flash him a grin through lidded eyes. “I hope it’s a promise and not a threa- 

Fuck me.”

Another man’s voice soothes your ears, only to stop when he stares at Buddha from behind your body. “I am. But it’s not easy when you move so much. 

Stay still, or I will force you to.”

Back arched and on all fours between him and Buddha, it’s no problem for the King of Men to tongue your folds one last time, but he sighs when you buck your hips towards him, eager to feel his lips on you. You never learn.

“Very well.”

A soft thud follows the man’s words and for the briefest of moments, the silkyness of the blindfold he wears brushes your legs. So, for his eyes are not veiled by the piece of fabric anymore, you can feel their pearly, piercing hue caress your skin as they go up. The King tilts his head in the other man’s direction and the grip on your hips vanishes altogether. Startled, you look at Buddha to understand what’s going on. However, the deity shots you a sly smirk, and you break out in a loud whimper. 

Yes, you’re utterly fucked.

None of them give you time to voice your confusion, because the first one to move is Buddha himself. Rather, his hand on your neck does. 

All to have your face squished against his pelvis, lips still pressed on his erection, as he strokes your hair oh-so gently when he comes on your face in thick, hot spurts. Chuckles echoing his, you lick every drop Buddha gifts you with and his long, minty-hued locks shield you both from the other man’s eyes when he draws back and stoops lower to give you a kiss. A groan escapes him when he tastes himself on your tongue, but he doesn’t stop to stroke his on yours until you are suddenly pulled up by another pair of hands.

“Ying Zhen-”

The King tuts in your ear, and you almost pass out on the spot the moment you’re on your knees on the bed like him, back against his chest while his hands wander on your body again. His muscles flex and relax languidly behind you, and the itchiness of his breath on you… oh.

“I’m not Ying Zheng for you today. 

Try again”, his voice betrays nothing of the fire burning within him as the index, middle and ring fingers of his left hand inch closer to your throbbing core. Waves upon waves of arousal wet them while his right hand, now sneaking up your throat, comes to rest on your chin.

“Open your mouth.” 

That sight alone, with your head thrown back on the King’s broad shoulder as you oblige, makes Buddha twitch in anticipation, his dick not so spent anymore. It’s almost too much for him to handle, to see the two of you engaging in such debauched acts in front of him.

But to see you stretch out a hand to lure him closer to see the mess between your legs? To sense the King’s crave for you to crumble and for Buddha to watch as he does so?

His dark orbs meet the King’s again as your own roll in the back of the head when Qin Shi Huang’s nail guards pass through your parted lips to graze your tongue, still coated in Buddha’s cum.

A long string of incoherent sounds come out of your throat, your taste buds having a short-circuit at the taste of metallic, sharp kiss of the nail guards mixing with Buddha’s semen in your mouth. 

“Ah, my Kin-”

Qin Shi Huang scoffs, cutting you off again. His left hand’s nail guards curl inward to rub themselves on your pussy. 

Fast. Hard, but careful not to scratch your most sensitive spot with their sharpness.

“Wrong again. Come on, you can do better than that. Don’t make me repeat myself”, you gag around his fingers as he pushes himself deeper and you mewl, desperate to have him satisfied enough to satisfy you. 

“Who am I to you today?” he asks once again.

You anchor yourself to Buddha’s hand engulfing yours, squeezing it as you meekly reply, defeated: “My Emperor.”

“I didn’t hear you. Are my fingers that much of a hindrance to you?”

Before he can tumble them off your tongue, you slightly turn your head to give him a full view of the saliva dripping down his fingers buried in your throat, then your eyes are finally meeting him.

It’s the look on your face that throws him into the deepest misery known to humankind. You’re so full of love for him and Buddha that you’d do anything for them.

Your little laugh is low but sultry all the same when you repeat the epitome, this time circling the King’s fingers with your tongue. The vibrations go straight to his cock, but it’s the way you press yourself against his fingers teasing your pussy that brings Buddha to curse out loud. 

Qin Shi Huang’s tendons snap under the skin, dick poking your lower back as he motions for Buddha to come even closer, to see with his godly eyes what certainly is not.    

Both men are ogling shamelessly at your heaving chest, breasts bouncing with every breath of yours, when your neediness gets the best of you and your other hand flies to grab Qin Shi Huang’s hair.

You are so majestic, more than Ying Zheng or Buddha could ever be. 

Now that he’s buried so deep inside both your holes, the King lets out nothing but a strained growl as you keep stroking his fingers with your warmth, especially your velvety walls that are so desperately trying to swallow his whole hand.

“My petal.”

Buddha turns your face towards him by the chin and watches as you unravel under his and Ying Zheng’s joint touch. 

“Keep sucking his fingers the way you did with my cock. Tear him apart.”

A curt gasp escapes the King. It's outrageous for him to be treated this way. “Buddha, how dare y-”

“Oh, shut up. We all know you got a lil soft spot for our precious petal here.” the deity retorts, and despite the fullness of your mouth, Buddha catches a glimpse of a wicked smile tugging at the corner of your lips as you moan around Qin Shi Huang.    

Cramped as you are between them, it really feels as if you shoved open Heaven’s Gate with a hand to be their own personal, soul-snatching goddess.

Next time Hades might join the dances, who knows. Either way, you're more than ready to oblige every caprice of your favourite gods if it means to be a menace to Zeus himself.

© azanthys — do not copy, translate, repost and modify my works.

[mediumgayitalian]

“You ready, Lou?”

“Duh.”

“Cecil? You’ve got full faith in your cabin?”

“Yep.”

“What about you, Will? Were your threats successful?”

“My bribes went wonderfully, thank you.”

“Then I think we’re a go.”

“Gods, this is going to be great.”

———

Knockknockknock.

Nico locks in on his game. He is so, so close to finally making it through this stupid quest, he can feel it, and if he doesn’t beat The Imprisoned before Percy he’s going to set the camp on fire.

Knockknockknock.

“Just — hold on a second!” He spams B, cursing loudly to himself, ignoring the twinge in his lower back from holding this position for so long. “Fuck, fuck, come on.” He clenches his teeth, knuckles white against the Wii remote, until finally — the boss falls. He cheers.

Fuck yes. Take that, Percy.

Tossing the remote on his bed, he jogs over to the door, sliding open the three bolts and unlocking the chains. On his porch is a blur of movement, hair frizzy and pulled-on, shirt rumbled.

“Oh, hey, Annabeth.”

She barely acknowledges him, focusing intently on pacing back and forth on the stone porch at the speed of light. He settles against the door frame, stretching out his spine, watching her mutter to herself.

“Chiron is leaving,” she says.

Nico raises an amused eyebrow. “I am aware.”

“With Mr. D. To some conference.”

“I heard.”

“He’s gone until early tomorrow evening.”

“Uh-huh.”

“He left me in charge.”

“Probably wise.”

“I need an allegiance, Nico.”

“Slow down and tell me what you mean, first.”

She sighs, coming to a stop in front of him. Her fingers still drum across her biceps, and her eyes dart around, evaluating. Her teeth dig into her bottom lip.

“Camp’s a lot of work,” she says finally. “I’ve never been in charge of so many people at once before, and like hell am I gonna let Chiron think I can’t handle it. I have a Plan, and you’re a part of it.”

Nico resists the urge to groan. Chiron leaving is supposed to mean he gets the next day or so off — no classes, no socializing, nothing. Just him in his cabin and the genuinely disgusting amount of junk food he has amassed.

(…And Will. Maybe.)

“It’s nothing crazy,” she promises. “I just need you to lurk.”

“…Lurk?”

“Yeah, you know. Chill in the shadows and scare people into complacency. You don’t even need to do much, just that thing where you stare at people like you know the exact day they’re going to die.”

“I do love lurking,” Nico admits. And to basically have a free pass to scare the shit out of whoever he wants… “I’ll do it.”

She smiles brightly. “Thanks, Nico! I knew I could count on you. I’ll meet up with you right after Chiron heads out, okay? To give you a list of people to keep your eye on.”

“Sure. Bye, Annabeth.”

“See ya!”

He closes the door and pads back to his setup, shaking the remote to get it going again. He can’t quite shake the smirk off his face.

The next twenty four hours are going to rock.

———

“Swiper No Swiping, initiate phase one.”

“Roger that, Sunny Dick.”

“…I’m revoking your code name priveledges.”

“No no no, I’m sorry, I’ll change it.”

———

Before Chiron leaves, he gathers them all in the amphitheatre.

“Children,” he calls, adjusting the bow slung across his back. “I am leaving now for my conference. I will be back before the sun sets tomorrow.” He gestures towards Annabeth, standing stiffly beside him. “Annabeth is in charge. Consider all my authority transferred to her before I return, am I understood?”

“Yes, Chiron,” courses the camp, some with significantly more attitude than others. Across the gathered crowd, Will catches his eye and winks. (Well, tries to. He has yet to catch on to the fact that he cannot, actually, wink, and instead just blinks really intentionally. Kayla and Austin have sworn him to secrecy.) Nico rolls his eyes, ears burning, and looks away.

“Good. Regular rules; no maiming, killing, or injuries above level seven. Any arson will result in a revoking of dessert privileges. Yes, Julia, even if you help in putting out the arson. It is the fire that is the issue, you understand. Excellent.” He claps his hands together. “I am looking forward to one day of peace. Try to avoid ruining it for me too quickly. Goodbye, children.”

With a wave and a fond squeeze of Annabeth’s shoulder, he trots over to Half-Blood Hill, ignoring Mr. D’s loud complaining about how long he took. With a snap of Mr. D’s fingers, they disappear. For a brief, uncanny moment, everything is still.

“Alright,” Annabeth shouts, clapping her hands together. Nico jumps. “Dinner is in an hour. Whoever is the first to fuck something up will be doing dishes. I will be watching. Dismissed.”

Wading through the swathes of ambling teenagers, she walks by where Nico is leaning against a pillar, half-hidden in the shadows.

“Lurk,” she orders, passing him.

Nico shoots her a mocking salute, fading into the shadow behind him. He barely catches her grin before he dissolves into the darkness.

———

“Phase two in effect. Ready to go, Sabrina Spellman?”

“Prepped to go, Teletubbies Sun Baby.”

“I hate both of you.”

———

“Halt!”

Across the common, three suspicious figures freeze, glance behind them, and then resume walking as casually as they can.

“I said halt! Do not move! Cease all function!”

Milling nervously towards each other, Dumb, Dumber, and Dumbest pause, shifting the three massive cardboard boxes they hold each.

“Hi, Annabeth,” Will says, smiling innocently. Cecil and Lou Ellen match him, eyes wide, expressions angelic.

Annabeth stomps over to them, fists clenched at her sides, entirely unmoved by the cherubic display in front of her. Nico stays right where he is, hidden by the shade of Cabin Eight.

“Explain yourselves,” Annabeth orders.

The three stooges exchange a look.

“Whatever do you mean,” Lou Ellen asks, shifting the boxes to free up her hand only to place it delicately over her chest. “Why, we are only helping our dear friend William —”

“Our dear, dear friend,” Cecil adds.

“— carry these many boxes of medical supplies, so as to lower his great burden —”

“Massive burden,” Will says sagely.

“— and free up his evening in order for him to spend his limited time with us, his most cherished friends.”

“Especially cherished,” Will and Cecil chorus together.

Unable to bite back a smile, Nico rolls his eyes so hard his skull hurts. They’re not even trying to not get caught, at this point. Idiots.

Clearly agreeing, Annabeth scoffs. “Yeah, right. Boxes down, all three of you. You’re being detained for suspected illicit substances.”

“Annabeth!” Will cries, hand to his chest, “after all I do for this camp, you would accuse me of being — illicit?! Me?! The outrage! The insult! The impugn, the —”

“Can it, Solace. Open the boxes.”

Huffing in perfect unison, the three of them carefully lower their boxes to the ground.

“Tape off.”

Intentionally slowly, they run a nail along the edge of the packing tape.

“Flaps open, guys, c’mon.”

With flourish, the trio fling open the thin cardboard panels. Inside each box is rows of bandages, packaged syringes, sterile bands, tongue compresses, and more that Nico can’t name. Annabeth glares at the boxes with perhaps more disdain than the situation calls for.

Then again.

It is camp.

“See?” says Cecil, gesturing grandly. “The shipment just came in from my dad.”

Like a hound dog locking in on a bleeding squirrel, Annabeth’s eyes narrow. Her lips spread into wide, frankly maniacal smirk.

“Your dad is in a conference with the rest of the Olympians right now, Markowitz.”

Caught.

“Well,” Cecil says, and then nothing else.

“He meant it in the royal sense,” Lou Ellen pipes up in his silence. Cecil nods frantically. “You know, ‘just’ as in, like, recently, as in this morning —”

“Do you three think I’m stupid.”

“It’s just medical supplies! You can look through them if you want —”

Even if they weren’t acting like criminals, Nico knows his friends. He knows his boyfriend, especially, and recognises that damn look on his face. He can also physically see Annabeth’s stress ulcer coming back.

Closing his eyes, Nico fades into Cabin Six’s shadow. It’s a quick jump, so the stretch is easy, and the darkness bows easily to his hold. He reappears silently behind the group, taking advantage of the setting sun, and darts out to grip Lou Ellen’s arm.

“Boo,” he whispers.

She shrieks at the top of her lungs, jumping three clean feet in the air. Coincidently, the boxes of medical supplies flicker, turning into a truly baffling amount of instant mashed potato boxes.

“I knew it!” Annabeth shouts.

On cue, all three doofuses turn to Nico, jeering and complaining about ‘ruining the fun’. Nico’s glare is ineffective on Doofus #1, but the other two can be cowed. He focuses on channelling the flames of hell to reflect in his eyes like his father showed him until they look away, muttering at the ground.

“We still don’t have any illicit substances,” Will insists, glaring right back. Nico sticks out his tongue. He crosses his eyes like a four year old. How immature, honestly. “So we’re just gonna take our stuff and —”

“Absolutely not, Golden Boy. Put that hand away.”

Wisely, Will draws slowly back from the boxes, tucking his hands in his pocket.

Annabeth stares, hard, at the three of them, flicking her dark eyes from the potatoes and back. The tips of her worn-out converse tap slowly on the packed grass, tip-tap-tip-tap, as they all squirm.

Understanding dawns on her quickly.

“It’s supposed to rain tomorrow, for the strawberry plants.”

They squirm harder.

“Oh, you godsdamn bitches.”

“It would’ve been really funny,” Cecil mumbles, staring at the ground. “Rain making the ground turn into a sea of mashed potatoes. Like Cloudy With A Chance Of Meatballs.”

“The only meatballs around here are the ones clogging up your skull!” Annabeth shouts, which doesn’t quite make sense but sounds clever coming from her anyway. “Who was gonna clean that up, huh? Magic?”

“I mean, probably,” Lou Ellen says, promptly shutting up at Annabeth’s glare.

“And you, Will! I cannot believe! Where is that responsibility you’re known for, huh?”

Will pouts. “I can be responsible and do fun things.”

“Fun, he says. I’m going to fucking kill you, how’s that for fun. The one day I’m left in charge, I cannot believe —”

“If it helps, it’s less about you and more about April Fools being tomorrow,” Cecil interjects tentatively. “Like, we were going to do this whether or not Chiron left.”

Annabeth glares darkly. “Of fucking course you were. It’s always you three, I swear to the gods. I should have known.”

“It’s honestly kind of embarrassing for you guys,” Nico adds. He smiles smugly at them, relishing in their rolled eyes and mocking hands. “Like, everyone expected this. You did this to yourselves, honestly.”

“Boo, you jag,” Lou Ellen protests. The other two knuckleheads joint in the booing, Will taking it an extra stop forward and blowing a raspberry, both thumbs pointing down. Nico responds with a wide grin and two middle fingers.

“Enough,” Annabeth says, rubbing her temples. “Extra chores, all three of you. Go help the cleaning harpies until sundown. And not another peep of complaint or I’ll have you on chores tomorrow, too.”

Without another glance at them, she turns around and walks away, muttering at least you caught it early at least you caught it early at least you caught it early over and over to herself.

“Pretty sure you guys have physical labour to do,” Nico says brightly when she disappears into the Big House. “I’d get started on that, if I were you.”

“Butthead,” Cecil mutters.

“Kiss-ass,” Lou Ellen agrees, making a face.

“Traitor,” Will whispers, pressing a kiss to his cheek as he walks past.

Nico watches them go, standing guard over the boxes in case they try to come back for them.

He can’t help but think that they all look a little too jovial for having their plans ruined before they even started.

———

“Is he still looking?”

“No.”

“Okay, Phase Three, let’s go let’s go let’s go —”

———

Every time Nico wakes with the sun, he sets aside twenty minutes of his morning routine to curse Apollo, his father, Apollo again, Phanes, and Prometheus. In that order.

He does like the bonus of getting breakfast. Usually he sleeps through it and has to hope Will saved him coffee cake, which he does, every time, because he wants to bribe his way into Nico’s affections. But there is something to be said about camp coffee cake when it is still warm, crumbly on the top and soft on the inside. It is a rare and occasionally worth-it treat, and on his bleary walk to the dining pavilion, Nico tries to keep this in the forefront of his mind. Fresh coffee cake. Fresh coffee. Fresh fruit. And Will, probably, not that seeing him is worth getting up early or anything. (So what that he gets all excited and energetic when he sees Nico up in the morning. If anything it’s embarrassing for him.)

For once, he’s actually early enough that there are very few people already at breakfast. He sees most of the Athena kids, still half-asleep over their mugs, and pretty much every camper under the age of eleven. A few head counsellors, too, watching out for the little ones or catching up on a rare moment of quiet. Nico makes a beeline for the breakfast spread, cutting a slice of coffee cake to leave on the platter and putting the rest of it on his plate. He puts a single strawberry in the middle of it so no one can accuse him of being unhealthy, then ambles over to the Apollo table.

“Neeks? Where’re you going?”

Nico pauses. He shifts his plate to one hand, rubbing at his bleary eyes. He looks at the Apollo table. He counts one, two, three heads — Kayla, Austin, and…Cecil?

“Nico? You good, babes?”

He turns, slowly, to face the voice. Picking at a plate full of pineapple, next to Reika Onason, Lou Ellen's sister, is Will.

“I know mornings are hard for you, but you’re meant to eat at your table,” he teases. “Come sit, doofus. Unless you’re taking advantage of Chiron’s absence to make friends elsewhere, I guess, but it seems unlike you.”

“You’re — what’re you — what?“ Nico says dumbly, struggling to reconcile the imagine in front of him.

For some reason, Will is eating his breakfast at the Hecate table.

And that is not all.

For some reason, his camp shirt does not say head medic. For some reason, he is wearing black jeans. For some reason, dozens of Celestial bronze rings adorn his fingers, carved with sigils. For some reason, his hair is clipped back, and there is black eyeliner around his bright blue eyes, and his nails are painted darker than Nico’s, and he is sitting at the Hecate table.

“What are you doing?”

“Having…breakfast,” Will says slowly. His lips turn down in concern. “Nico, are you okay?”

“I’m fine! It’s — you’re the one acting weird!”

Will and Reika exchange a look.

“Maybe you should go see Cecil,” Will suggests carefully. “Did you sleep okay last night? Maybe you hit your head —”

Nico looks desperately back at the Apollo table. They watch him strangely now, too, and after a second Cecil gets up from his — Will’s — seat, and walks over.

“Everything okay?” he asks, impish expression almost serious. “You look pale, Nico.”

“I’m worried,” Will says. “He’s acting — confused, Cece, maybe there’s a —”

“I’m not confused,” Nico scowls. “You two are — doing something.” He gestures vaguely between them. “As revenge for yesterday.”

Will snorts. “What, the potatoes? Don’t let Lou hear you discredit her like that. If you think she’d plan some revenge prank on you this early, you don’t know her at all.”

Nico’s head starts to hurt. He sets down his plate, rubbing his temples. Why would Lou Ellen be so bothered by that? Why isn’t she here, with her sister? What the hell is going on?

“Both of you — cut it out. Whatever dumbass prank you’re pulling is just stupid.”

“Did I hear something about a prank?” Bounding over from the camp store, arms laden with contraband junk food, is Lou Ellen, smiling brightly. “Whatever it is, I want in!”

“Oh, thank the gods, you’re back.” Will makes grabby hands at the pile. She tosses him a pack of twizzlers off the top, rolling her eyes as he tears into like he didn’t just polish off two and a half entire pineapples and three bowls of oatmeal. “I was going through withdrawal.”

“I’m not helping you when your stomach cramps up,” Cecil promises, snorting. His eyes follow the candy ropes in their harried journey towards Will's gaping maw. “You can sit in your misery.”

“Bleh bleh bleh.”

Nico narrows his eyes at them. Clearly, they’re all in on this — bit, or whatever it is. It’s a little too coordinated to be a quickly-planned revenge prank. They must have had a backup to the potatoes, although a pretty weak one. Unless they somehow managed to bribe the entire camp into agreeing to act along with their dumbassery, and Nico knows none of them can come even close to affording that, then all it takes is one person on Nico’s side before their little ruse is broken.

“It’s too early for this,” Nico says, interrupting their bickering. He picks up his breakfast and trudges off to his actual table, ignoring Will’s pouting. He has to brush the dust off the bench, but it’s worth it to avoid whatever headache the three of them will inevitably give him.

Coffee cake, save him.

———

“It’s not looking good, Katara —”

“I actually like that one.”

“— he’s totally onto us.”

“Just stick to the plan. Power onto Phase Four.”

———

To Nico's great satisfaction, many other people do double takes as they walk into breakfast.

As the Athena table, minus Annabeth, who is likely putting out a literal or metaphorical fire somewhere, wakes up, they start to notice the strange seating situation. It starts with Malcolm, who stares at Cecil in a lab coat with the same expression Nico has seen him wear when attempting to solve the Hodge conjecture. He leans over to murmur something in his brother’s ear, and then all seven of them are looking between the Hecate, Apollo, and mostly-empty Hermes tables with suspicious frowns and furrowed brows.

Nico catches Will’s eye, smirking.

Game’s up, he mouths. Will only shrugs innocently at him.

It’s Annabeth who finally puts a stop to the nonsense, striding in at the tail end of the rest of the slowly-waking crowd. She has grass in her hair and murder in her eyes.

Excellent.

“I swear to the gods, I just dealt with you three,” she snaps, raising her voice so they all can hear her. Coincidentally, it attracts the attention of every other nosy person at camp, which is everybody. “Just ‘cause Chiron’s not here doesn’t mean the rules go out the window. Back to your tables, let’s move.”

“We’re at our tables,” Cecil protests. “Why do people keep saying that?”

Annabeth takes a very deep, very long breath. She has a whole day of this, too. How unfortunate for her.

“Maybe because you are full of shit, Markowitz. Go sit with the rest of you troublemakers.”

Kayla clears her throat. “Annabeth, I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Her thin eyebrows are drawn tightly together, lips turned down into a frown. “Cecil is exactly where he’s supposed to be.”

That gives her pause.

That gives a lot of people pause. Nico sets down his coffee cake.

“Cecil’s at the Apollo table,” Annabeth says slowly.

Kayla meets her gaze, face creased in concern. “...Yeah, I know.”

“Cecil is a Hermes kid, Kayla.”

She snorts. “Yeah, sometimes I think so, too. But as much as I would absolutely love to trade my brother —”

“Hey!”

“He’s a healer, Annabeth. He got claimed and everything.”

“I don’t have time for this,” Annabeth says, dragging her hand down her face. “Kayla, I don’t know what they paid you —”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” With a clatter of plates, Will clambers on the table, clapping his hands. “Your attention please, everyone!”

Without so much as a pause, Will claps his hands together. Immediately, a ball of green light expands from them, flashing almost too bright to look at. Nico watches, slack jawed, as he tosses it into the air, making it explode into a thousand little sparkles, descending gently over everyone’s heads. The little kids laugh in delight, reaching for them like they’re bubbles.

“Does that settle things?” he demands.

Silence rings for one, two, three seconds.

The camp erupts.

Dozens of voices overlap, all shouting over each other at once. Hands gesture wildly at Will, at Cecil, at Lou — trying to piece things together. Will is their head medic — isn’t he? Then why is Cecil wearing scrubs? And why is Lou chilling at the Hermes’ table, chatting with Julia over a bowl of cereal? Something isn’t right.

“Just — everybody quiet!”

It takes a minute, but everyone settles down, sitting back in their seats and fidgeting, looking around with half-confused, half-amused smiles. Like they’re laughing at a joke they’re half convinced is real.

“Who thinks this —” Annabeth makes some vaguely indicative movement at Will, Lou, and Cecil — “is weird? Raise your hand.”

Almost all hands go up. Only a handful stay down — Will, Lou Ellen, and Cecil, of course, but the entirety of the Hermes cabin stays oddly silent, as do Kayla, Austin, Reika, and, shockingly, Clovis.

“Stoll,” Nico demands before Annabeth gets the chance, “you’re buying this?”

“Buying what?” Connor says after a moment. He shrugs, eyes twinkling in amusement. “I’m just chillin’ with my sister, Nico. Cecil is great, but he hasn’t been in our cabin since he got claimed.”

The rest of the Hermes kids nod in agreement. Whispers filter through the tables — first Kayla, now all the Hermes kids?

“If I may,” interjects Clovis, yawning. “There’s an…energy, around.”

“Gods, yeah, I was feeling it too,” Will agrees frantically. “Almost a…blanket, of some kind. Something heavy and stifling.”

Malcolm looks over with interest. “You think we got cursed, or something? The whole camp?”

Will shrugs. “Maybe? Can’t think of any other reason you guys are remembering things weird.”

“It could be a god’s interference,” Nyssa suggests, raising her voice to be heard from the Hephaestus table. “I mean, that’s what happened to Jason and Leo and Piper, right? Their memories got fudged.”

“Yeah, but camp-wide…”

“Could still be possible.”

“There’s no way! They’re fucking with us, come on —”

It doesn’t take long for the arguing to start up again. This time, though, more people looked spooked — more people look to the dumbass trio themselves, eyes wide like they’re looking at ghosts.

Like they’re believing this shit.

Nico scowls, shoving away from his table and stomping over to his boyfriend.

“You are so full of shit I can smell you from across the room,” he says, raising his voice to be heard over the noise.

“I don’t know what you want me to say.” He wiggles his fingers in Nico’s direction. They spark with the same green light. “Want me to switch your eyes and ears again?”

That sounds horrifying. “Try it and die.”

“Alright, grouchy.” He holds his hands up, stepping back from Nico’s glare. “I’ll keep my hands to myself.”

Alarm bells go off in Nico’s head. This is more than just strange, it’s wrong. And not just ‘cause he looks different — so what if he looks different. Will could shave his head bald and tattoo himself purple, Nico wouldn’t care.

But his aura.

The essence of Will, that Nico has grown so used to be stopped noticing. The quiet, warmth strength, the feeling of a soft breeze in the summer, of walking past a window in the late afternoon, of smokey August campfires and scratchy guitar, is gone. Is different, rather; almost blocked. It feels like a cloud blowing over the sun, making everything warped and off and shadowy.

Something is afoot. Something is wrong, and not just some vague, made-up spell like the Trickster Trio would have the camp believe. Something like smoke and mirrors, something shadier.

He watches Will fall into step next to Cecil, ducking away from his ruffling hand. He frowns.

If there’s one thing Nico can do, it’s wade through the shadows.

———

next

[theyhavetakenovermylife]

Write a fic about where you are attending kindergarten and then there's a rat fighting off foot ninjas

and then TMNT x reader

Ninjas In Kindergarten (Angst?/Crack?/Fluff?)

Bayverse!Turtles x reader

A/N: In honor of the second rat we found in the toilet today, along with the signs of rats in the other parts of the kindergarten, daycare and staff room, I bring you this. I’ve changed it from Foot ninjas to a mouser, and brought the turtles in just for the fun of it. And oh yeah, they brought the rat hound in again. IT FOUND ANOTHER RAT WHILE WE WERE THERE. What an internship. It isn’t boring I tell ya.

Btw, me and the kids are now joking that it's Master Splinter’s unmutated family that wishes to recruit ninjas on their own. These little ninjas now do a double check before using the toilet.

Warning: Kids in danger, crying children, and spelling like always.

It was a surprisingly calm day for a Monday in a kindergarten. All handovers of the kids from their parents had gone smoothly, with the kids happily playing together on the mats, the pillow room or the play kitchen. Even the girl that tended to cry whenever her mother dropped her off was in a somewhat good mood, drawing with her two best friends at one of the tables.

You sat by the play kitchen area, plastic food all around you as the boys and girls around you handed you food, acting as if you were the only guest in an overstaffed restaurant. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see one of the adults cutting up fruit, while another one brought more pencils to the drawing table, all while the third one was changing diapers on the three youngest kids.

It was nice to finally have a calm day at your internship. The past few weeks had been somewhat chaotic. Not so chaotic that you couldn’t keep afloat, but enough to make you very tired whenever you finally got home. But damn it, these sweet kids made the whole ordeal worth it, only making you excited for the day you would have your own.

You and your boyfriend had started to talk about children. Nothing was set in stone yet, but the topic had been up several times. Well, if it was possible that was. With your boyfriend’s… less than human nature, none of you were sure that a child would even be possible. But nonetheless you dreamed, finding your heart jump whenever one of the kids accidentally called you mom.

“(Y/N)!”, one of the girls at the table called out, running to you with the drawing in her hands. Her 4 year old face, bright eyes and happy smile shined proudly as she held up her drawing for you. It was a blob of colors with no form of meaning, but nonetheless she was happy. “I made it for my mom!”

“Woooow!”, you smiled, leaning forward to show interest in the paper and the many doodles on it. “Did you really make that all by yourself?”

“Yes!”, she said with a little happy jump. “All by myself!”

“I think your mother is going to like it a lot”, you said, smiling as another kid handed you yet another piece of plastic food, adding it to the growing pile in your lap. “I think you should put it in your drawer. Then mommy will know where it is”.

“Okay!”, she smiled, running to her drawer with a skip in her steps.

With the paper in one hand, she opened her drawer, only to jump back with a scream, causing you and the other adult to jump, all turning your attention her way, all the kids doing the same in quiet shock. In her drawer was a mechanine, the size of a mouth, with one bright red lamp where its eyes should be, walking around on two feet. You jumped at the sight, knowing exactly what it was. You had seen such a thing several times with your boyfriend and his brothers, during your run ins with one certain scientist.

You quickly ran to the girl and pulled her back, just before the mouser jumped out of the drawer, snapping out at you. All the kids let out a scream, running for the farest corner in order to get away from the mouser.

In one swift move, you pressed the number that the turtles had given you onto the keyboard, sending an alarm signal to the ninjas, before giving the mouser a hard kick as it tried to get near you and the poor crying girl.

“Up on the tables!”, you yelled over your shoulder to the three other adults, quickly helping the girl up on the nearest table, before helping the next kid. “Keep the mouser away from the kids!”

And so you did, getting all the kids up on the tables, ignoring the questioning looks from the other pedagogues, as they wondered how you knew what that thing was.

You got the last kid up on the table, kicking the mouser back once more, before quickly jumping up on the table to the kids, before it could bite at your ankles. The kids on the table hug you tightly, crying as the mouser started to bite at the wooden legs of the table, trying to get it to fall.

Suddenly the door swung up, revealing your mutant turtle boyfriend in the front and his brothers right behind him. The moment he spotted the mouser at the feet of your table, he jumped into action, smashing it into pieces with his weapons, causing the room to fall quiet. Thankfully the kids weren't crying at the moment, but you could tell by the looks on their faces that the sight of four mutant ninja turtles would soon cause another round of crying.

“So”, you said, trying to defuse the building intensity in the room. “Kids, this is my boyfriend. You know, the one that was a little different with strong muscles? That is him”.

Your boyfriend waved at the kids with a somewhat awkward smile. When he and his brothers gave you that emergency number, he had never thought he would have to come and save you, three pedagogues and a bunch of kids from a rogue mouser.

To his surprise, one of the kids poked at him, staring at him with their big eyes and runny nose, not fearing his big frame as he looked at them.

“Are you green because you ate broccoli?”

“Yes”, your boyfriend answered with a smile, before knocking on his shell. “And I got this from drinking coconut milk”.

“Oh boy”, was the only thing you could mutter, before the questions came flying, all of the kids wanting to learn about your strange boyfriend and his brothers.

It didn’t take long before the kids started playing with your boyfriend and the other turtles. With Mikey they took turns to jump on the smashed mouser, laughing loudly at the sounds it made. Donnie drew with girls, taking a look at the drawing the girl from before had made. Raph played a throwing game, throwing the kids into a pile of pillows one by one, while Leo was making a tower of building blocks with the quiet kids, their eyes growing wider the taller the tower got.

It was safe to say that you would have to bring your boyfriend and his family to your internship a little more often, especially when the kids started screaming and asking you to bring them once again. There was nothing you could do. The kids had turned into big fans of the ninja turtles. And it was adorable.

[madeupoflowers]

Your next partner & the connection

(has an 18+ section)❤️‍🔥

❗️You’ve been warned🫡

This is my first 18+ reading so beware of any triggers and please if this isn’t your cup of tea then skip this reading. I know this isn’t for everyone. Most importantly take what resonates. Nothing is forced and set in stone. Free will is and will ALWAYS be in our hands. Remember that, love!

I hope you enjoy. Take care!🖤

Piles 1-2 are top row

Piles 3-4 are bottom row

🖤💋🖤💋🖤💋🖤💋🖤

Pile 1

The connection: I feel your next partnership will be a little traditional in terms of roles, there will be one person with dominant masucline energy and another with prominent feminine energy though apply based off of your preferences not entirely gender. This person wants to take charge and court you. They don’t appear emotional and seem strict and hardened. I see them being physically larger than you either in height, weight or musculature. I see someone standing over another person. Even if this is someone shorter, they have an aura of being so much larger(lol I heard “when ya girl 5’5 but got a personality that’s 6’5”). This person doesn’t fuck around, they want a real relationship so if you wanted a fling, maybe choose another pile since that is NOT the energy given at all here. The masculine wants to give you the world. Honestly, they may not care if you want to sit pretty I mean they love you either way. Buying anything you desire and cherishing you, such a hot energy. Warning though they are stubborn especially in traditional ways. So this could be someone who wants their partner to stay home while they provide and care which could for many be what causes some conflicts. Also, this person takes their sweet ass time lol. “What’s the rush?” They like to chill and do their thing, no drama here they hate that shit. It will take some time but once you get close their emotional and sweet side will really start to show. I’m gonna be real here, this person gives “Daddy” vibes if you know what I mean yes that can apply to a female its just the energy.

(rider waite: EMP, 4OW, WRLD, 9OP, KNOP, KOC)

Some steamy details(18+): Ooooh yeah they wanna be the dominant and “experienced” partner. They are passionate and may literally wanna get down and dirty in random places. Body worship mainly on the feminine’s part. Like’s you all dressed up and feeling your best. I see them wanting you or sneaking up on you randomly when y’all get back or getting ready to go to a nice event or restaurant. Male or female choosing this pile, this person likes their partner more feminine dressed, backless dresses, spaghetti straps and I see lots of flowers especially flower detail on shirt straps, lace and especially pantyhose/stockings. I am getting for some that this person lowkey likes innocence and making someone turn “freak” if you know where I’m getting at. Corruption type beat here. Not malicious though! Though, here is some tea, the masculine is all dominant and mighty in public yet I feel in private they lowkey want you to kick their ass in bed(IM TOTALLY FUCKING WITH Y’ALL). But seriously, don’t mind you being more crazy and fierce in bed and may be a deep desire of theirs. Remember in the first part of this reading I mentioned them taking time to reveal their vulnerable and sweet side? Well once they do and are safe to be “weaker” around you then they will reveal this submissive desire of theirs. This is funny cause it’s a proven fact that many people in power have secret desires to be dominated by those no one would expect.

(sex magic tarot: KNOC, SUN, 9OS, EMPRSS, 2OP, AOS)

(you got my favorite song and the singer is also the guy in the photo you chose!)

Pile 2

The connection: This person is fast moving and likes to GET SHIT DONE. At times their bossy and rushed nature will step on some toes especially yours. I do thing y’all may bicker especially playfully(so no worries!). I think this relationship will have many bickering arguments that will be made up as quickly as they started. There is a likely chance that the reason why this person is snappy at times and needs things done their way is due to internal issues and trauma even. Other’s might’ve not have truly stood up to this person or their words went on this person’s “deaf” ears. However, I feel that’s gonna change with you. You will be someone that this individual will genuinely feel that they can give some space on the throne for and brings the hope that you won’t leave and cave like everyone else. I know this isn’t a healthy coping or habit but I do feel this person is truly kind but has been forced to grow a hardened and controlling aura due to past pains and disappointments by those they should’ve been able to rely on. I heard “Fuck it I’ll be the person I rely on and rely on ONLY.” It’s sad but I’m glad this person will want you to grow a stable connection and build a foundation that you both can dictate together. Lol.

(rider waite: 8OW, CHRT, 5OW, AOC, 7OP, AOP)

Some steamy details(18+): He/she like’s playful flirting and teasing like the female on the card is grazing the male’s leg under the table. This person likes topping for sure and hugging. Like’s feeling like the strong and protective partner so will literally want to squeeze you when y’all hug or embrace(wink wink). Despite this person’s need for control, I think they will cave to you eventually and want you to snap them in shape. Warning for some of y’all so if this triggers you then don’t accept this specific message because free will is a thing okay? This person could like threesomes or foursomes. Like’s roleplaying. Gets off on the outside world not knowing what crazy stuff goes on behind closed doors. May not want you too revealing or talking about y’all’s bedroom life since they like the mystery. This sound’s so Scorpio esque like Scorpio venus and mars specifically. Like’s low cut tops but nothing else too revealing. I keep seeing a person in an emerald colored long sleeved, low cut top with a black headband which frames their long brown hair perfectly. Very specific message but I see someone here who fits the description, really turning on their partner with that look. Take what resonates. Sorry if I couldn’t get too many juicy details, I truly feel this person wants to conceal that energy which makes sense if they want their sexual life a mystery to outsiders, except you and them.

(sexual magic tarot: 2OW, 6OS, AOC, QOP, WHEEL, HP)

Pile 3

The connection: They are guarded especially energetically and I feel they have every right to be. This person was taken advantage of financially or had their kindness taken for weakness. Maybe they bought people nice things or lent money to help. Leaving them with nothing. Now they want to conceal themselves from being read energetically too since if say they have money or fame, you won’t know until they let you know. I feel anything grand or gifted about them will be hidden at least in the beginning. Anyways, this person will scope you out and once they see the potential of something good then they will take the risk towards you. I feel this person isn’t very extroverted or experimental or at first. Very cautious of new chances and may feel it’s too good to be true due to past disappointments so you may have to get them out of their shell a bit. Be aware he/she is prone to falling into stagnant energy and unhealthy habits or forms of escapism. They may kind of fall into codependent relationships and it’s possible you could be their “savior” in some way. Sorry if this since this isn’t exactly what many want to hear but remember a lot of this person’s energy is being hidden and protected so this is literally just the tip of the iceberg, I’m sure they have a good heart, simply are victims of a painful event or situation that did them horrible and dirty. They are still healing when you both start getting together.

(rider waite: HP, 9OW, POP, AOW, 4OC, DVL)

Some steamy details(18+): They lean a bit towards the submissive side in bed. Really enjoy seeing you confident and feeling happy, to them you shine. I see a lot of you feminine’s are more on the dominant side anyways. Foot fetishes or like’s to do it with heels/nice shoes on. Will want to buy you flowers or do little and charmingly cute things for you, the type to see a pretty plastic ring and want to give it to you just because they adore you. It’s wholesome and innocent in a way. Homebody’s here, may take some coaxing to do anything outside. May want to write you poems and perhaps sexy texting is their cup of tea. Type to make a surrounding comfy and homey before getting down. This is a message for a handful of you only, they may like c*ckholding or voyuerism ok. Or just watching adult movies with you. Emphasis on the chest area and I feel if this is a male, that he has facial hair and a roman/hawklike nose. Thick eyebrows.

(sexual magic tarot: QOW, 2OS, AOP, KNOC, 10OC, HRMT)

Pile 4

The connection: Right away this will be a “forbidden” connection. This person is in a high position or role that requires responsibility and forseeing others’ work. I feel they are older. When you or they try to get close, I feel someone really fucking annoying will notice and charge in to say some dumb shit which will unfortuanly cause you so much distress. This could be another higher up, main boss or annoying ass taddle tail, etc. Either way this start of this connection will be a challenge and there is some sneaking around one way or another. The person you’ll want will be well respected and I am seeing very attractive, if male he has darker features except skin tone(like brunette hair, black eyes, yet pale as snow), very specific for a handful, also male or female they are tall or have excellent posture. You will notice this powerful, confident and great posture right away so if you needed a way to identify. I think some of you already know this person(take what resonates). I think this person puts responsibility over love and their heart, it’s sad cause it hurts them so but they have had to be the responsible and strong one for as long as they can remember. Please don’t hate them or take it personal. They don’t want to hurt you.

(rider waite: 2OS, JDMT, 10OP, KNOS, 9OS, KOP)

Some steal details(18+): Well goddamn okay. This is a sexy son of a b*tch that’s for sure. You want a soft yet stern doms/domme? This is for you lol. I get handsome/beautiful, bossy yet charmingly pain in the ass type energy. Like a tease. I keep seeing someone smirk. A little shit thats for sure! They enjoy taking charge and believe me you won’t mind it at all. This person believes practice makes perfect and Lord I feel they have and do. Ummm, if a man, he could have a large you know what. I feel he is proud of this but is one of the types that doesn’t tell everyone but slying enjoys people’s reactions when they get with him behind closed doors. So male or female, this person is charming and kind, so kind. Ugh, like they want to give you all you need and want just to see you light up with joy(yes this goes sexually and non-sexually). Like’s incoropating food and drink into the bedroom. Lowkey would bang outside under the starts. Yet so cute and cuddly, y’all I’m jealous. Has a lot of wild and freaky kinks that I feel y’all will like to play out together. Don’t let this person’s work persona and seriousness scare you, they are a big softie and teddy bear in the end. This person will never abuse their power both outside the bedroom and inside. Aftercare is a big deal here especially if there is any extreme practices, Iike I said, they won’t use their power against you. “Your wish is my command.” Have fun with this one. I mean the photo for this pile gives off a strong and primal energy to it so yeah haha.

(sexual magic tarot: KOS, EMP, DVL, 6OC, STR, 7OP)

(omg this song fits this energy so much plus it’s an amazing song and band, check it out!)

[gettinshiggywithit]

!Eras!

Scenario:chuuya celebrates his birthday through the years~

Pairing: chuuya x gn!reader

Type:drabble

Genre:fluff

A/N:HIII YH IK THIS IS LATE BUT LIFE KINDA LIFED...please lmk what yall think and if thia was good at all😭

Tagging: @diagonal-queen

HAAPPYY BIRTHHDAYYY TOOO YOUUUUUU!

The members of the sheep all whooped and clapped as their king blew out his candles.

“Come on!,” shirase said as he smiled at chuuya with a quirked brow, “you’re supposed to feed those closest to ya!”

Shirase obviously thought he’d be first,with yuan standing right behind him,but when chuuya nodded and cut out the first slice,the first person to be fed,

Was you.

Chuuya turned to you,beaming as he held out the slice for you to take a bite,and as you did his smile grew brighter.

You could see shirase huffing in front of you,seeming to take offense at not being chuuya’s apparent number one,and he almost refused when the slice was offered to him second.

No one could ever outrank you in chuuyas heart,you were his best friend;his confidant.just as loyal, just as kind and just as deadly.you complimented eachother completely and had gotten pretty close,even if you werent a high ranking member of the sheep you were still the most important to him.

———;—————@

Another year,another set of candles blown out.but this time he wasn’t surrounded by the sheep,no,not anymore.This time he was surrounded by his new friends,the flags.

albatross slapped him on the shoulder,making a comment about how he was another year older but not another inch taller,earning a retort and scowl in return.pianoman made a comment on how the joke was so low hanging that even chuuya could have reached it and this earned yet another punch and grumble from the targetted ginger.

You couldnt help but laugh at their antics.the flags were good for him and you loved that he could find a group of people who cared for him more than shirase and the sheep ever could.the mere thought of the silver-haired bastard bringing a sour taste to your mouth,one you attempted to swallow down with some wine.

Chuuya looked to you when he heard your laugh,his anger immediately replaced by a crooked smile. “Nice to know my pain brings you joy y/n” he says as he rolls his eyes,his hands resting on his hips as he looked at You with a look of mock hurt.you scoff in reply as you get up from your seat,place the wine glass back on the table and make your way towards him. “Mhmm dam right it does.” You say with a smirk,flicking his forehead with your middle and pointer fingers, “now come on a tradition’s a tradition,nakahara~”

Chuuya rolled his eyes again and cut out the slice,feeding it to you before turning to the rest of the flags.the sprinkle of red dusting his cheeks didn’t go unnoticed by any of them as they all chuckled to themselves.their little ginger had a crush~

And they weren’t wrong in their assumptions.chuuya had indeed caught feelings for you,or rather,he’d realised he’d had them all along.when the sheep had betrayed him,stabbing him (literally) in the back,you’d jumped down to go after him.None of the members has let you know about the blindside as they’d all known you’d either warn chuuya or find a way to foil their plans.none of them tried to stop you when you ran for him though,treating it more like a kind of two-birds-with-one-stone situation. And when dazai offered chuuya an ultimatum,you agreed to join too.you saw nothing in the sheep anymore.their fear of being betrayed had rotted them to the core and you held nothing but hatred for them now.chuuya had appreciated how you’d stayed by his side,how you hadn’t abandoned him.and it was then that he realized he did have feelings for you (yup ik,inconvenient but hey! Watcha gonna do?)

———————-;——-@

It was once again April 29th, and the clock had just struck midnight.chuuya stood alone in your pantry,a little cupcake which said ‘happy b day’ stood before him with a lit candle stuck in its top.he blew out the candles as you sang softly,clapping when it finally went out. “You know what time it i-!” Before you could complete your sentence chuuya crashed his lips into yours,capturing them is a passionate kiss.his hands were on your waist,pulling you closer as yours cupped his face.

When he finally broke the kiss,panting for air as he rested his forehead against yours,he finally said, “lets skip the traditions for once huh?” He’d said smiling like an idiot.you couldnt help but laugh as you replied with a, “Thats just fine by me~” you held his face and looked into his eyes before pressing a chaste kiss to his lips. “Happy Birthday Chuuya,I love you” and in that moment he felt like the luckiest guy alive.his best friend turned lover,his one constant,was with him yet again and the look in your eyes told him you’d be there till your heart stopped beating.so in reply he said the only thing he could,it couldn’t fully encompass how much he loved you or how much you meant to him,but it was simple and sweet,

“Love you too y/n”

All rights reserved © 2023 gettinshiggywithit . Please do not repost, modify or claim as yours.

[brainr0t-landfill]

🌃 Mercurial

ghoap x male reader

Chapter Four: Nausea

"I will poison all your happy times, I will love you like the ashes in my cigarette box."

-The Crane Wives, Tounges and Teeth

(money insecurity, unhealthy relationship, implied homelessness, anxiety)

The on the road life is better suited for you, you feel more secure with the peeling, old wallpapers of whichever hotel you end up in than the walls you had painted with Johnny the beds reeking of mildew feel more familiar than the wide warm one you used to share with them.

Faces forgotten before you can commit them to memory, places gone with nothing to mourn them by, nightly vigels to the best thing that ever happened to you spent anxiously looking out foggy windows for any silhoutte resembling theirs, listening for uniform footsteps louder than an earthquacke and as familiar as the little compartment you've sewn in your backpack, containing a new ID, fake passoport ,ever-changing burner phones and your unstable money supply.

You're in your element when no one knows you, when people don't commit your face to memory, when they're ingenuine and changing. it's familiar and homey when you know every escape route and every card in the deck, it's not so familiar too with the ever present threat of being found breathing down your neck, you know too well how attached they are and how many strings they have to pull, you've seen it firsthand.

Even then you can't blame them, they fell for someone they thought was good and from this distance it's easier then ever to paint yourself as the villan, the one who stirred the water when all was well, pushed buttons he knew he shouldn't have pushed, tested boundaries that had been set in stone when they were finnaly comfortable, when all was finnaly well.

It started out small, just a way to relieve your tension, just a way to adjust and get some breathing room;

It was the small ritualistic details you started neglecting at first, not stocking the pantry, keeping the house messy before they came home from deployments, not kissing them goodnight or goodbye. They didn't get mad, they didn't even notice, John stepped up readily when you neglected the house and Simon happily went out for groceries whenever you 'forgot', and that set you off worst. The little things you'd built your life, your place in the relationship around where unimportant to them, just something someone else could do without much fuss.

Then it was keeping the door unlocked on the night you knew they'd be coming home, sleeping on the couch by yourself with the excuse of 'feeling smothered', going out and not telling them whene you were going or when you'd be back knowing you were leaving then anxious and frazzled worried for your safety and nothing else, they were good, too good for somone like you. So good that Simon sat you down and explained that he understood you needed some space and that them being gone one day and then then being so present and loud could be hard to get used to.

"Me 'n Johnny just want ya safe angel."

Simon and that understanding smile on his face, always considerate and understanding to the people he loved like a wise parent lecturing a misbehaving yet well meaning child. You spat in the face of that.

"You both are overreacting Si, I know y'all got this skewed view of the world because the military n shit but I'm an adult, I don't need bodyguards."

His face fell, John turned around momentarily to check on the conversation.

"It's not like that, 'n you should know by now. We love you, we want you safe, you're the one with the skewed view and if you keep this bullshit up there's gonna be reprucussions-"

"Simon."

John cut in walking over to the kitchen table and giving him a look, Simon deflated running a hand over his face and you felt the familiar pain of being a disappointment, of misguiding and upsetting. It was wose when you know you love them and do it anyway knowing the things they'd been through.

"Sorry.."

You mumble, his dark eyes soft as they met yours. His bare hands clasped on his lap, he's rubbing his own knuckles.

"Jus' - jus' be safe yeah? Take care o' yourself when we can't, keep our heads clear? For us, angel."

You nodded knowing full well that despite your guilt you had found a nerve and you weren't the good person you had cruelly convinced them you were. You revealed in uncertainties and tension, you hadn't been anywhere this long since your teenage years when you got kicked out. You weren't deserving of this care, this love so you were doing the right thing driving them away or perhaps you just liked being cared for in such avident and raw way either way you were dead weight at best and a parasite at worst.

The tension rose when you kept doing it, John was the first to snap when you introduced them as your friends to some work acquaintances. He broke down, screamed raw and bloody, punched a wall and pulled out his hair as Simon desperately tried to play mediator.

"How could ye?! How fucking could ye, you ungrateful, lying cunt!"

John screamed as you stood leaning against the wall his knuckles were still kissed white and bleeding from the hole they had left in the drywall. His aquamarine eyes squinted and wet, his breaths quick and shallow like a wounded bird.

"We live together! We sleep in the same god damn bed, that's my sweater on ye back, 'n ye sit there and call us your mates?! Yer buddies?! I swear to fucking god ye better have brain damage or I wi-"

Simon grabbed him by the shoulders before he could go on any further. You understood why he was mad, he had opened his heart out to someone he had trusted for so long not knowing he was a snake in the grass, he wanted his love, his safe space, his importance in your life validated especially after all the anxiety you had put them both through with your planned recklessness.

And you broke, in retrospect it could have been so much better if you hadn't, maybe then you'd have some resentfull exs instead of this manhunt with every card stacked against you.

You sobbed, apologized over and over again, promised you'd be better, promised you'd behave, you loved them, you really loved them, the pain in Johnny's voice was unlike anything you'd seen and you meant it too. You didn't wanna be stranded and drifting again, by yourself in the world.

"Ye know we won't ever let ye go angel, promise."

You broke your promises time and time again, they snapped and you broke, but guilt wasn't enough to scratch this constant itch under your skin. Waiting, salivating for when they finnaly got fed up with you like everyone else, it enraged you when they didn't.

Shit hit the fan when you spent two nights at a friend's house and kept your phone on silent, came home with her perfume spritzed on your neck, then you ended up in the cabin and realized some bonds had to be severed phisicaly.

So here you are now, in the roadie lifestyle you're used to, overgrown beard and bloodshot eyes, feet bloody and swollen in your shoes, always cold, always tired, never quite clean. Walking home with a measly paycheck in your pocket and TV dinner in a shopping bag, you're always tense, always on edge knowing full well they've most likely moved on, hopefully.

Life on the road isn't as secure as it used to be, not when their love made you soft and comfortable.

You miss warm beds, you miss a stable job and your warm clean home but most importantly you miss them, you miss them like an amputated limb, like you can reach out and feel the muscles hanging loose, the veins burst and drooling where you hacked them off; it's easier to deal with when you remind yourself people like you don't deserve things like that.

You're just outside your hotel rooms door when some primal, animal instinct straightens your spine, something isn't right.

You look inside from the windows check inside, your measly possessions are all where they ought to be, just when you're about to close to door you see them.

Footsteps, on the snow, big, bigger than yours and deep, pure snow filthied by mud somone tried to cover them up but they're still there.

You can't tell if they're combat boots that John favoured or the hiking shoes Simon sweared by but it sets you off anyways, primal fear and anxiety, restlessness churning in your gut as you pack all of your belongings.

Same game, new rules.

<< Next Chapter / Next Chapter >>

[ronearoundblindly]

Fire & Ice (a RoAR drabble)

Flufftober Day 12, Ransom Drysdale x rich!Reader (see series)

I blame @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory and @brandycranby for encouraging HughSaison. This is fairly loosely related to the prompt but there are a bunch of temperature references/illusions. 🤷🏻‍♀️Hey, I did my best. -> While I'm at it, does anyone want to own up (privately) to being the person who first asked about rich!Reader over a year ago??? I always wonder if that anon is still reading 🥹

Uhhh, angst with a fluffy ending... yeah, yeah, Ro loves writing arguments, we get it.

Warnings: If you've never read my Ransom before, beware. He curses like an angry sailor, inside and outside of his brain. Plus super suggestive language/mentions of sex. LOTS of dialogue. Zero editing. MINORS DNI. WC 1.8k

He cannot fucking believe it's come to this.

"Don't you fucking dare," he snips. “You cannot use a veto. You put me in charge.”

He watches you walk calmly, put away a dish calmly, sit at his couch calmly.

"I've made my decision, and that's final."

"Fuck you." Ran means it, but in his own way. "You said I could choose--"

"Not that," you say, so calmly, too fucking calmly for someone who managed to turn Ransom Drysdale into this, this thing that cares about something so petty for all the wrong--or just different--reasons.

He stretches to his full height and sucks on his tongue for a moment.

You continue to scroll through your phone.

He never thought he’d get married but he’s always loved a good party. Since the ring's not flashy, he wants you in the tiara. He hasn’t given you the ring yet either because…well, because it’s been less than a year and you practically live on the other side of the planet. Call him old-fashioned, but Ransom wants to be home for all the big things. He can plan a damn party though—and the look to match— whenever the hell he wants and for however long he wants.

At length in the quiet, he asks, "why not?"

"Because it's ridiculous, and I'm saying 'no.' Veto."

"You don't get vetoes for--" Ran smothers his frustration, but barely. "Does this have to do with...money? Because you know I’m not talking millions of dollars in real diamonds or something.” But, ya know, he’s expecting a couple hundred thou between colored and semi-precious stones, plus the setting in—would gold or platinum work best for your skin? Grandma Thrombey’s ring is made of yellow gold. Ran guesses he should match that.

The false calm never lifts from you.

Eyes icy and blank, you look at him while his plans keep running amuck. "No."

Two letters. One word. He fucking hates it.

"You'll look beautiful," he yells in annoyance.

The phone drops on the leather couch. "I'm not wearing a crown to be married in. It'll look pretentious, ostentatious. I won't do it and that's that."

"It's a tiara," Ran corrects, "and with a veil, it's near invisible. It’ll include the wedding colors with the stones."

"No."

His blood starts to boil. Don't say it, don't say it, he thinks fleetingly but fails.

"Says the woman with shit taste."

Slowly, calmly, coldly, you walk over to him, stretching to your full height, holding his gaze. You’re wearing one of his sweaters again and nothing else. That’s his favorite look, but only for him.

It’s winter outside, the heater turned up so that your naked skin stays comfortable. You stay comfortably exposed all the time, when he has his way. Comfort is king in Ran’s house. 

Despite being exposed though, he can see how you've made it so far in business—in life—even with shitty taste. Your poker face rivals champions, and you are stalwart in your dedication. There's a hard (and hardening) edge to your simple, sly grin.

You take a deep breath in,  a whiff of him, a sample for assessment.

"Poor--" you sigh "--boy."

His teeth grind together, jaw tight as a vice. How dare you.

Ran's petty, spiteful even when he tries so damn hard to keep it together, and the wound of disinheritance is still fresh enough he cannot abide that sting.

"Burn in hell."

You don’t take the bait and simply cock your head, waiting for his guilty meltdown. So far, he does this at least once a week, sometimes multiple times a day. It bothers you, you’ve told him, that he questions everything instantly, that he can’t trust you or your feelings or his surroundings, that he panics over the idea of ever having to get a job, but it’s also great ammunition against a man-child.

The grin never leaves your lips. You're in fine fighting form tonight. Ran shouldn't have tangoed.

"Go fuck some bimbo's ass."

Oh.

Oh, you bitch.

That's low.

Ransom's face contorts. "It was one time," he gripes, "and we weren't even dating."

Your palm lies flat against his chest. "We'd slept together several times, and you even volunteered for me by then so..."

Ran grabs your hips and brings you close, avoiding your gaze while hoping you keep looking at him, cooling him down, evening his hot temper.

"Of course," you add casually, "that wasn't the first time you did that, was it?"

This is where it gets tricky for him. Ran never had a real relationship before you--not even his 'bond' with his parents compares--but old habits die hard.

He shoves at your hips, spinning you two until your back hits the glass block window between the house and the bare woods outside.

His head ducks to mirror the angle of yours. "Doesn't have to be the last either."

"Hugh," you warn, as threatening as wind across his cheek.

He's gonna regret this. He knows he will, but curiosity gets the better of him.

"Tell me. Tell me why you don't want to wear something gorgeous and fancy for an occasion where you are meant to be gorgeous and fancy."

The turn in your expression is pronounced. He didn't expect you to be more alarmed by his caring than his come-ons.

"Bad form," you finally admit. "Some rich bitch thinks she's a princess. Looks really bad."

"You are rich. You are a--"

"Careful..."

"--I'm saying 'princess.' Calm down," he says to the perfectly, eerily calm woman in his arms. "Would you just fucking let me compliment you?"

Ran fiddles with some hair around your ear, noting proudly how your eyes droop shut slightly at the smallest touch from him. He likes that you respond to him, his distance, his fury, his doubt, and his passion. You make feeling okay. You are his safe space since you've seen him at his lowest.

You see him.

There's very few things in life that make more sense to Ransom than his wife will be the one who sees him and he lets see him. Everyone else and everything else can piss off.

God, he fucking hates that he loves you so much. Why won’t you just wear the fucking crown? You’ve earned it; you’re the one who conquered his demons, not Ran.

He could buy it anyway, have your veil sown straight on it, not give you the chance to argue, or he could take you out to shop, put one in your hands, knock it onto the floor, and claim ‘you break it, you bought it.’ Problem solved, but he’s a petty bitch.

He tucks the edge of his lip into his cheek.

He should be less of a petty bitch.

“What do you want?” Ran asks. “What’s it gonna take?”

He keeps his sharp eyes locked to yours, watching understanding shrink your once-dilating pupils

Change in demeanor. “Oh my god.”

Aaaand there’s the regret. “Don’t make a big deal—“

“HOLY SHIT.”

“It’s not—I’m just—“

“Hugh Fucking Drysdale?! Trying to compromise??? I’ve see it all now.”

“Stop,” he whines, dropping his head to your squirming chest.

“Wait—” you whip out of his arms and hustle back to the couch, retrieving your phone “—do it again.”

He’s too lost in staring up the sweater as you bend over to notice right away.

“Are you filming me?” Disgusting. Childish. Petty, just like him. Maybe he’s had more influence on you than he realized.

“Your face is priceless.”

“Give me that.” Ran doesn’t put much effort into reaching the phone. He would rather win for his cause. “Seriously, what do you want?”

The arm held up falls lax. He has a clear view of your home screen, so you weren’t taking a video. You just wanted to tease him. Fuck, you love to tease him.

Dramatically, your hand frames your chin in thought. “Well, I don’t want something that extravagant to go to waste, but it won’t go with every outfit…”

“No, not with colored stones,” Ran says absently. He guesses you want to get more use out of it. Gross.

“Okay, my compromise is whenever I wear it, you treat me like a princess, or perhaps, your queen.”

“Uh, sure,” he snorts. You already get treated better than any woman he’s ever known…by him, of course. He’s vaguely aware that some people do even more than the bare minimum, but those are other people. Baby steps.

“If that tiara is on my head, Hugh, you become a perfect and adoring gentleman.”

Ran wrinkles his nose. “What?”

“You heard me. That’s my compromise. Dress me that way and you have to treat me like royalty.”

“Like…” He rushes forward to sweep you up, wrapping your legs around his waist and thrusting his hips. “Princess Pussy?”

“Ran. Ew, no.”

“Queen Cunt?” Heh, he chuckles, King Comfort and Queen Cunt. No, don’t say that out loud.

You gag slightly. “Super not what I meant.”

“You’re already going to marry me, but you want me to worship you? No fucking way.” Ransom flat-out laughs.

“How did you get worship out of ‘treat me nicely?’” Your arms tighten around his neck, pulling your faces closer.

He exaggerates a groan. “I don’t know. That’s asking a lot.”

“Oh, right,” you say with a roll of your eyes. “Just keep on being shitty…even to your future wife. What could possibly go wrong?”

He huffs.

Ran is passionate about making you look good, not just because you are on his arm. Sure, he probably focuses on all the wrong things—all the selfish things,—but you easily think of the big picture and completely forget about yourself.

That’s already a balance. That’s already a big compromise.

And yet…

Ran’s looking at your face and admiring your playfulness when he could be ordering you to unzip his pants. He’s more excited to see you decked out pretty things than he is to say he dressed you. He’s concerned with how you refuse to spend money for you even though you’ve put no restrictions on him. That’s…that’s just a different Ransom Drysdale. That’s a man he wouldn’t recognize if he weren’t watching his reflection in your eyes.

Ran pecks a gentle kiss to your waiting lips.

“Okay, princess,” he coos, his arms snaking tighter over your back and his fingers plunging into your hair. He keeps you close, noses touching, hot breath mingling. “Shh, shhh.”

He hears the faintest whine escape you, and he just can’t help himself. He’s a petty bitch.

“Don’t worry, princess. I’ll fuck your ass.”

🙈🙇🏻‍♀️😝

sorry not sorry.

@supraveng @1950schick @patzammit @whiskeytangofoxtrot555 @yiiiikesmish @ashesofblackroses @starkleila

[Main Masterlist; The Root of All Ransom Masterlist; Ko-Fi]

[jeanniebug623]

🕸️🕷️ Weaving the Web 🕷️🕸️

Chapter 15: Truth Be Told

“Nice try, kid.” Quaritch said with a huff of fatigue and a bit of frustration as he took a seat next to where the kid was crouched and watched Wainfleet take his chances with the ikran. 

Spider ground his teeth slightly and glanced down then away. Any direction to not meet the colonel’s gaze. When he ‘forgot to mention’ some parts of the iknimaya process and bonding with an ikran, the kid didn’t expect Quaritch’s challenger to fling both of them right off a ledge. Spider didn’t just feel bad because, without the colonel’s protection, he would likely end up back in a prison cell. That would be the best-case scenario. A straight jacket and padded room in the worst. 

“Must’ve been one of my other sides that forgot...” Spider said to lighten the mood. He didn’t know what the recom considered discipline for almost getting him killed but the teen REALLY didn’t want to find out either. 

“Yea right.” Quaritch said with a scoff and sarcastic smirk. He was legitimately angry with Spider for not mentioning that the Na’vi would handicap the flying beasts first before attempting to make the bond. 

“For what it’s worth...” Spider said, finally having the guts to look at Quaritch’s disappointed gaze, “...you did something Jake didn’t.” 

Ok, so it was a poor attempt at making up for Quaritch possibly falling to his death but the slight perk in the recom’s ears told Spider he’d fed his ego a little bit. Not that he wanted the recom to think he was anywhere near the level of greatness Toruk Makto was, but he had to think of saving his own skin while he was still property of the RDA. 

“You didn’t use a yìmkxa.” Spider said matter-of-factly then continued when the word meant nothing, “A banshee catcher to...you know...tie the mouth shut. There really aren’t many who don’t use them...if they don’t, it’s just to show off.” 

Quaritch noticed how the teen’s voice got quieter and more awkward as it was clear Spider was trying to butter him up. The colonel had made it quite clear the consequences of causing any trouble the first time they left Bridgehead. But a lot happened since then. He was only dealing with one snarky teenager then...not said teen, a young child, and a psychopath. 

The colonel’s frustration tempered as he rested and looked back to the cheering of Wainfleet dominating the stone arena. He chuckled a bit and said, “Ya don’t say. There’re things even the great Toruk Makto can't do, eh?” 

Spider shrugged and let out an internal sigh of relief. He avoided an ass whippin’, right? Or maybe that threat was null and void now that he was so fucked up in the head? Some of the recoms acted like they were walking on eggshells around him; some acted like nothing had changed. He wasn’t sure what he would do outside of the situation. He barely knew how to handle it as it was happening to him... 

“I am...sorry.” Spider said, glancing at Quaritch then back forward when the colonel gave him a side glance. 

Quaritch stared at the boy in his side eye glance before leaning forward and saw the boy’s jaw was set tight and his brows were furrowed up. If he had pointy ears too, the recom was sure they’d be pinned back and showing genuine regret. When he smirked again, it wasn’t forced or sarcastic and he reached out to ruffle the boy’s hair. He pretended not to notice Spider flinch then try to hide it. No need to embarrass the poor kid any more than he had been... 

“Point for you, tiger, I’d be a fool to not expect you to try and knock us all off at least once...” Quaritch said. 

Spider smiled slightly and tried to hide that as well, trying not to lean into the giant hand ruffling his locs. Part of him tried to pretend it was Jake doing it. Like in some fantasy, he had been saved and everyone was happy he was back. And Jake was promising that he would never let anything happen to him again. Treat him like his own son for once... 

And yet...it felt like Spider had that with...his dead father’s recom? Maybe that was just his brain damage making him feel that way... 

But after everything Quaritch had done the last few weeks? Taking ‘legal custody’ of Spider so he wouldn’t be prisoner, being present at every major medical test, letting him stay in an apartment reserved for military leaders instead of some grunt barracks? Well...Spider also had to remind himself that Quaritch was the reason he was kidnapped and ended up in that stupid death machine in the first place. Still...if Spider was ‘nothin’ to him’ then why was Quaritch doing so much? 

“I reckon not everyone walks away from this, do they?” Quaritch asked, interrupting Spider’s thoughts as another of the squad started scrapping with an ikran. 

“Nope.” Spider said, watching Lopez get flipped right off the ikran’s back as soon as he managed to mount it. 

“And kids do this?” the colonel followed up with. 

“Like I said, younger than me. Just part of being seen as an adult in the clan. Becoming one of the People. Some of them never make it...” Spider said, his mood dropping with his tone. Despite all he had accomplished, as far as young hunters his age go, he would never follow in his friends’ footsteps. Though Quaritch took it in more the literal sense, which was also true... 

“So, parents send their kids up here to die?” Quaritch said, his ears pinning back. Something twisted in his gut that made him feel uncomfortable about a teen younger than the boy next to him taking on such a dangerous challenge. Then the twisting tightened when he thought about the danger he’d put Spider and the Sully kids upon finding them in the woods. 

No, that was unexpected and could have proved useful to finally getting Sully in the RDA’s crosshairs. 

COULD HAVE. 

“Not to die.” Spider corrected quickly, “To prove themselves.” 

“Ya ever seen a kid fail this test?” Quaritch asked with a raised eyebrow. 

“Yes, but he didn’t die. He came back when he was ready and did it again.” Spider said, shifting his feet closer together in his crouched position and crossing his arms on his knees. The position was guarded and Quaritch could tell the boy didn’t want to talk. 

“One of Sully’s kids...?” the recom asked quietly. 

“Yea...” Spider said plainly and buried his chin in his arms as he watched the squad continue to pair up with the ikrans. Something he would never be able to do. Spider would grow up, sure. Something about being considered an adult at 18? What the hell did a number have to do with proving oneself an adult? And what did that matter to his people? To the Omatikaya? Age had nothing to do with being one of the people...it was what they did in those years. And there was a lot that Spider could not do... 

The teen didn’t want to admit he was impressed with the recoms when they were all off the mountains and sitting around a campfire with their new partners snug on the cliffs around them for the night. Spider stayed quiet and just smiled to himself as he listened to the squad give each other a hard time over what they could have done better against the ikrans. 

“That’s bull and you know it!” Lopez shot back as he was on the receiving end of most of the hazing. 

“Seriously, brother, if you hadn’t tried to jump it so quick, you wouldn’t have landed on your ass.” Wainfleet jeered with a laugh. 

Spider watched the way the recoms spoke to each other. They goaded each other in a way no different than himself and Lo’ak. It sounded tough but was all in good fun. The comradery. The warrior’s brotherhood. They were practically a family. More of a family than he ever had. He tried to push that thought away. He did have people in his life like this...he really did. They’d just...left him behind. Well, Jake probably made that call so was he really surprised by it? He wasn’t Jake’s kid...and he wasn’t worth the risk... 

“Spider?” Quaritch said for the third time, concerned the boy was disassociating and one of the alters had stepped in without any of them noticing. He placed a gentle hand on Spider’s shoulder and looked into his eyes while asking, “You good, boy?” 

“Yea, why?” Spider asked. Traces of panic infiltrated his mind. Did he lose time? Did someone else take over? 

“Yea.” Quaritch said quickly to put concern out of the boy’s mind, “I asked you three times if you were still hungry, but you didn’t answer.” 

“Oh...sorry...” Spider said, sighing quietly in relief as he looked back at the fire. 

“Nothin’ to be sorry for, kid.” 

“I think I’m just tired...”  

“You should be after tryin’ to leave us behind in the mountains.” Quaritch said as he patted the boy’s head and nodded off to where their sleep mats were laid out away from the fire, “Off to bed now, son. Get.” 

Spider stared at Quaritch, long enough that the colonel looked confused. ‘Son’ was not a word Spider was used to hearing unless it was in the context of ‘son of the demon’. He wasn’t really that tired. His brain was too busy processing his shifting perception of Quaritch and the recoms. How could being stuck with people who were supposed to be ‘the enemy’ feel like such a safe place to be...? 

Eventually, he nodded and wandered over to lay down away from where the fire polluted his night vision. Laying on his back, Spider stared up at the starry sky and shifting colors from the aurora. 

“Everything ok, boss?” Wainfleet asked, interrupting the colonel’s thoughts and staring at the boy. 

“Yea, Lyle...” Quaritch said, running his hand over his chin, “Just tryin’ to figure out what’s on the kid’s mind. Can’t read him today.” 

“You could just ask him.” Wainfleet suggested. 

“I asked him if he was good. Said he was.” 

“He might think he’s good. Or it might be easier to just say he’s good. Don’t you remember being a teenager? Last thing you wanted when a parent asked what was wrong was to actually tell them the truth.” 

“Parent?” 

Quaritch and Wainfleet looked at each other in silence. 

“Well, you know...ANY adult asking a teenager what’s wrong...they’re gonna avoid talking about it.” Wainfleet said. He didn’t realize what he’d said until his friend called him on it. Regardless of the shock of the term used, the corporal clapped his hand on the colonel's shoulder as he stood. “I’ll take your watch, boss. Take the night off.” 

Quaritch watched Wainfleet take up arms and start the new two hour perimeter watch. He cleared his throat and looked back to Spider. He could see he wasn’t asleep. In fact, the kid was pointing up at the stars and slowly moving his hand around. He cleared his throat again to distract himself from procrastinating then went over to the boy. 

“Not as tired as you thought, eh?” Quaritch said as his shadow blocked the firelight. 

“Too bright with the fire...” Spider lied. 

“Ah, right...hate that...” the colonel sat down, continuing to block the firelight. “Better?” 

“Yea...thanks...” Spider said, resting his hand on his stomach. 

“What’s got your head in the clouds, tiger?” Quaritch asked, leaning his head back to look up at the stars as well. 

“Just looking at the pictures in the stars.” Spider said with a shrug. 

“The Na’vi got constellations too?”  

“Yea...” 

“Like what?” 

Spider rolled his head to look at Quaritch as he continued to see what he could figure out on his own. He couldn’t tell if the recom really cared about the stars, but he did care enough to come over and check on Spider. So, he might as well humor the conversation... 

“There’s Tuvom Taronyu and Taronyutsyìp right there...” Spider pointed to two clusters next to each other. “The Greatest Hunter and the Little Hunter.” 

Quaritch looked at where Spider was pointing but it just looked like shiny dots in the sky to him. His ears twitched back, and he shuffled down the mat so he could lay back to see it from the same perspective as Spider. It didn’t help much and he asked, “Not seein’ a damn thing, Spider, what am I lookin’ at here?” 

“There.” Spider pointed up and the colonel tilted his head to get a better look, leaning his cheek against the top of Spider’s head. “You see the spear in the Greatest Hunter’s hands? And the bow in the Little Hunter’s?” 

“Ehh...” was all Quaritch could say as he tried to see what the boy was seeing. He held up his arm between them. Spider leaned his head further into the gap between the recom’s head and shoulder to look up the direction of his arm. 

“More like...there.” Spider said as he reached over to grab ahold of Quaritch’s arm and moved it into a better position. As he re-explained, he continued to move the recom’s hand accordingly like he was tracing the stars like a connect the dots page out of a child’s coloring book. “There’s the big hunter. And the spear...is over their head. See?” 

“Ah, yea.” Quaritch said, genuinely seeing the full picture now. The teen continued to tell him about the constellation and then some. He pointed out animals and plants and Na’vi folklore. The fire had been put out and the squad went to sleep. The sounds of the forest echoed, but all Quaritch could hear at that moment was the boy next to him as spoke with such fervor and passion that they could forget about what brought them to this point in time. And what unpredictable future lay ahead for the boy. 

“There.” Spider said suddenly, pointing to a constellation that had peeked out from behind the floating mountains as the stars moved across the sky over the time they’d been talking. “That one’s mine.” 

“Yours? Don’t tell me they do that horoscope bullshit here on Pandora too.” Quaritch grumbled as he tried to figure out what Spider was pointing at. Then a thought crossed his mind...what was Spider’s zodiac sign? He may not have cared for it, but Paz did. 

“I don’t know what that is.” Spider said before quickly moving on and drawing over the stars with his pointed finger so Quaritch could get an idea of what the image was, “A lot of times, Na’vi kids will claim a star or a constellation as kind of a guardian. Something to watch over them when they can’t watch over themselves. You know, like when you’re asleep? That one’s mine.” 

“Kinda looks like a...” Quaritch tilted his head to the side and squinted. He really didn’t want to insult the kid by his interpretation. Considering how many countless stars were in the sky, this specific constellation seemed sparse. It had the least amount of stars after the boy traced over it again. He cleared his throat quietly when he felt the kid’s head bump against his shoulder to prompt him to continue speaking and said, “Like a little arrowhead...surrounded by little spindly legs. But it looks all by its lonesome.” 

Spider snorted at the description and tilted his head against Quaritch’s arm again, “I mean you’re not wrong...” 

“What’s your little guardian called?” Quaritch asked, smiling that he figured it out without embarrassing himself too badly. 

“Le’awtu Swirä.” Spider answered quietly. 

“And that means, smart guy?” 

“Lonely Creature.” 

Silence fell between the two. Quaritch found himself missing the boy’s endless astronomy lecture immediately. To the colonel’s relief, Spider spoke up to further explain. 

“It’s not what you think...” Spider said vaguely. He took in a breath then let it out before continuing, “The Lonely Creature is one of the Na’vi’s greatest stories. It’s about an unknown creature that lives everywhere on Pandora. In the forest, the mountains, the seas, the deserts...everywhere. No one knows what it looks like, but they know it’s there.” 

“A whole pack of unknown critters?” Quaritch asked. 

“No, just one. But it can be anywhere it wants to be. Not knowing what the Lonely Creature is makes it accepted wherever it goes. The Na’vi respect the Lonely Creature because they don’t know what it is. They don't hate what they don’t understand. They need a reason to hate something...so they don’t hate what they don’t know.” Spider said, his eyes staring unblinking at his guardian in the stars. 

Silence fell between the two as stones sunk into Quaritch’s stomach. There were a lot of reasons for the humans and the Na’vi to hate each other. That was for damn sure. But he didn’t care about that. Spider was so expendable that there were no rescue attempts. If that didn’t say ‘hate’ in some form of the word, Quaritch didn’t know what did. But this poor kid didn’t deserve that... 

“Means more now than ever...most kids stop believing in them way younger than me...” Spider admitted sheepishly. 

“Yea? Why’s that?” Quaritch asked, quietly. 

“They don’t need stars to watch over them because they can connect to who’s here...they’re protected by who’s here...” Spider answered. A third silence. The colonel didn’t know if the kid was talking about parents or the clan or their great goddess Eywa. It seemed this Lonely Creature chose to stay lonely just to feel wanted, respected, and a part of something. Even if it that acceptance was based on how far it could stay away... 

“Am I ever going to be ok...?” Spider asked with a quiet voice, barely able to escape his tight throat. He didn’t feel as lonely as he used to. It was hard to when all he could think about was the extra personalities that he could not control. But they were there in his mind.  

“You’re already ok.” Quaritch said, struggling almost as badly as Spider was to speak. The boy didn’t answer but he heard him shifting until he was lying with his back to the recom. Quaritch contemplated his next decision, both for his sake and the boy’s, before sweeping his arm out and around the boy to pull him close. 

Spider may have been a little panicked mentally but allowed Quaritch to scoop him up in his arm to be pulled back against the recom’s side. The recom's arm was so long it could lay around his head and bend up at the elbow, so a large hand rested on the boy’s upper arm. Quaritch gave it a light squeeze and Spider found himself curling his head comfortably into the arm of the closest person he ever had to a father... 

Got to give a shout out to @naavispider for inspiration for their stargazing scene from chapter 12 of If You Ain't Playing Me. ✨

[astrolo-t]

Fun & Games

Pairing: Ellie x Reader

Word Count: 3k~

Warnings: MDNI!!!, Cursing, Smutty smut smut, Fingering, Oral, Ellie Receiving, Very mouthy reader, ummm ya :D

A/N: Will probably rewrite later but! I promised myself I would post this today.

What had happened was....I read this very nasty sapphic book, Tryst Six Venom, and I could not stop imagining reader and Modern AU!Ellie in this very predicament of hatred fueled by sexual tension. I know nothing about lacrosse so everything is super vague in that regard…but none of us are here for accurate lacrosse vocabulary :) This is nasty so enjoy that <3

It wasn’t your team's first loss, and it wouldn’t be your last. Part of being a good team captain for the lacrosse team was making sure they understood that fact, while also making sure they understood where they went wrong so you could avoid it happening again. During your team meeting after the game, you point out things you’d noticed while out on the field, things you all could improve upon. Truthfully, everyone could’ve been better, including yourself. Knowing this, you don’t make the effort to single anyone out.

Well, no one except her.

“And Ellie?” You start sweetly, “Tonight was unacceptable. Your position isn’t permanent. Remember that.”

And with that you continue talking to the rest of the girls, your seed planted and growing rapidly. Out of the corner of your eyes you can see Ellie’s eyes have narrowed, looking at you with unbridled rage from her place on a bench in the corner of the locker room. You finish your pep talk, and dismiss the rest of the girls. After they’ve filed out of the locker room Ellie’s glare intensifies, her eyes on you, absolutely seething. Just how you wanted her.  “Are you out of your goddamn mind?”

“We all make mistakes, Ellie.” You offer with a shrug, feigning disinterest, “Just gotta own it.” You make quick work of packing up your bag, and though you pretended to be the perfect picture of unbothered, truly you were relishing in how easy it was to get her riled up. 

“No you made a mistake. It was a bad. fucking. play.” Ellie growls out, “You fucked it up Captain - plain and simple.”

You cock your head to one side and briefly pretend to ponder this. Well, she was right, of course. But you’d never admit that. Why would you, when it was so fun watching her get worked up like this? She’s still sweating from running up and down the field, and the cut of the uniform allows you the tiniest peek at her collarbones. Half of her hair is pulled into the messiest bun as per usual and several strands of her hair cling to the side of her face and forehead. Her green eyes are dark, clouded with rage and hatred and you’d be damned if she ever looked at anyone else like this. No, this look was just for you. “Are you kidding? Sweetie, you hogged the ball and then froze at the last second. Choked up as per fucking usual. ”

Ellie huffs out a breath and you can see her trying not to lose her shit. If she can tell that you’re goading her, she doesn’t say so, at least not yet. Instead, she simply gets up and slings her backpack over one shoulder and for a moment you think you’ve lost her. Despite your inner panic, you offer her a bright smile as she stalks toward you. Just as she’s about to walk past, she leans down until her mouth is level with your ear and says with complete confidence, “You’re so delusional and so fucking desperate for my attention, it’s sad.”

Your smile fades as you flinch away from her, meeting her eyes with a steely gaze you scoff, “Don't flatter yourself, I have no interest in an always stoned, future washed-up athlete and college dropout.”

Ellie makes a face as if she’s contemplating that information. “Pretty good. How about this - I have no interest in a stuck up, repressed bitch.”

Your hands move before you even register that they had, and soon you have Ellie backed against a set of lockers, one hand on her arm and the other curled around her neck. Repressed? No. No, no, no. You didn’t want Ellie. Not like that. No, you just enjoyed toying with her, watching how fast you could get the hot head’s face to contort into something else, something more dark and sinister. Hand around her neck, you watch the way she swallows and then licks at her lips nervously. The sight of the pink muscle brings your attention to her mouth and you briefly lock eyes with her before moving your thumb so that it drags over her bottom lip. Not for the first time you think about what it’d be like to kiss her. Would her lips be as soft as they felt under your fingertips? Would she lick and bite at your lips or better yet would you let her? Or would you make her beg? Beg to touch you, and for you to touch her. 

The sound of the locker room door opening and closing has you jumping away from Ellie and snatching up your bag. As you brush past one of your teammates, you make the attempt to rationalize what had just happened. You knew that you didn’t like girls, not that you found anything wrong with it. That just wasn’t you. And even if you did, you certainly did not like Ellie. She just…confused you sometimes. Mostly made you angry. 

That was it. 

But later, when you retire to your dorm for the night, showered and in bed, maybe when you’re alone with your thoughts and restless hands, you recount that moment with Ellie and wonder just what would've happened had someone not walked in. You think of how she didn’t make any attempt to pull away from you, instead almost went slack in your hands. You remember her pulse quickening in the palm of your hand, racing just as fast as yours had been. You remember  her eyes, and the way they had watched you, waiting for what you'd do next. 

And in the darkness with your blankets pulled up over your chin, maybe you admit to yourself that you wanted her like that again.

.

.

.

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Ellie POV

Dorm parties were never Ellie’s thing but after some coercion for Dina and the whole locker room interaction she figures it’d be an opportunity to blow off some steam. She’s standing in the kitchen leaning against the counter sipping on a drink and maybe she looks a little awkward in her basketball shorts and dirty sneakers but it’s never stopped her from pulling before. So far no one had caught her interest which was unfortunate but the night was still young. Her green eyes scan the room for prospects and also to make sure one very specific individual didn’t show up. Dina had promised, had literally swore on her and Jessie’s first born child that you would not be at this party tonight. Apparently, you had told Dina you had to come up with new plays that “Ellie will be able to actually execute”. 

Bitch. 

She recounts how you’d pushed her into the locker and to her surprise you were much stronger than you looked. Those team gym days apparently had left you with a lot more strength than she thought and maybe she thought of all the ways she could test that hidden strength of yours, off the field.

Ellie winces at her own train of thought because fuck no, she shouldn’t even entertain the thought. You’d been horrible to her, ever since she’d joined the team. Always saccharine sweet to everyone else and yet towards Ellie you quickly turned sour. She could never figure out what it was exactly that she did to deserve your treatment of her but she quickly decided she didn’t actually care. Whatever your reasons were, if you were going to treat her like shit then Ellie was prepared to dish it right back.

There was one thing she did give some thought to however. And if she was truly being honest with herself, she gave it quite a lot of thought. For someone who claimed to be straight, the way you looked at her sometimes was...confusing to say the least. Sometimes in the locker room Ellie would catch you staring momentarily, and you’d immediately look away sometimes with a gentle flush to your cheeks. And Ellie was no fool, she knew that look. She’d given that look to plenty of women and had been on the receiving end of it. It was one usually followed by fun and mostly debaucherous activities. 

Those rare moments where she’d caught you staring in combination with your actions threw her. The two sides of you seemed to be completely opposite to one another. Every time she was somewhat close to figuring it out you were interrupted, much like the whole locker room situation from earlier.

A hand on her bicep reminds Ellie of the mission in mind. It’s one of your teammates, Michelle. She was the only one who seemed to acknowledge the way you singled Ellie out. That probably had something to do with her being very attracted to Ellie but that was neither here nor there. The point was Ellie liked her and they got along.

And maybe, Ellie thinks as her eyes quickly give her a once over before smiling at her, she finds her very attractive as well. 

“Surprised you came out tonight. After y/n called you out in front of everyone like that.”

“M’ used to it.”

“I know it wasn’t your fault we lost. You’re literally the best player on our team.” She leans in close and Ellie knows what she’s doing and is not opposed to it in the slightest. Michelle had the most perfect body, carved out after numerous games and training. Her skin was smooth, soft. And her eyes, god, her eyes were beautiful. They reminded her a lot of y/n’s.

.

.

.

.

Y/N POV

You had literally been here for less than 10 minutes when you spotted the two of them in the kitchen. Michelle is leant in, laying it on thick you’re certain. Her enormous crush on Ellie was not a secret in the slightest amongst the team. And Ellie she’s…smiling? Laughing even. Why was she looking at her like that? She never looked at you like that??

Maybe because you’ve never actually given her a reason to?

Without thinking you march over to the two of them, “Michelle! Just the person I was looking for!”  

She turns to look at you, and you can see the disappointment play out over her expression, quickly disguised by a mask of joy.

“Captain, I’m glad you came out tonight.”

I bet you are. 

Offering her a big smile you chirp, “I think after today we could all use a little fun .... Speaking of which, I heard Dina say she needs another player for truth or dare. You should go join, Michelle.” 

“Actually Ellie and I-”

“Now.”

With frown she pushes off the counter, sparing one last glance at Ellie. “You got it, captain.”

“Was that necessary?” Ellie grumbles, starting to take another drip from the red solo cup in hand.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You snatch the drink from Ellie’s hand, gulping down the entire thing in one go.

Ellie watches you, not bothering to hide her obvious disdain…even as her eyes wander down the length of your neck,“Y/n…I don’t know what game you’re playing here but-”

“Come over tonight?” You breathe out as you set the cup down. Ellie does a double take, seeming just as surprised as you felt. You tuck your hair behind your ears nervously, and then cross your arms because you have no idea what to do with them at this point. Why in the actual fuck did I say that?

“I just thought you might want to go over some plays I came up with….you know because you need the most help.” You blurt out, hoping to diffuse the situation. Coming up with plays at midnight. Yea Y/n. Real fucking smooth. 

Ellie, at a loss for words, opens her mouth, only to close it again.

“Show up or don’t.” You say quickly, slight irritation present in your voice due to her lack of response. “You can always get back to…Michelle.”

With that you storm out leaving Ellie the ever confused lesbian behind you.

.

.

.

.

You were pacing back in forth in your dorm room, wondering why the ever loving fuck you said that to her. You didn’t have any goddamn plays to show her. Nothing related to lacrosse anyways. Fuck, she probably just went to find Michelle right now. They’re probably making out or worse! Ellie probably took her back to-

A few taps at your door breaks you from your spiral. And without even checking to see who it is, you open the door. 

Ellie stands there, pulling at her fingers the way she does when she’s nervous. Without thinking you yank her inside by her shirt pushing her up against the door.

Stopping to stare at her you almost plead, “Tell me this is a bad idea. Tell me to stop and that…you don’t want this. Tell me you don't want m-uump!”

Ellie cuts you off, closes the distance between your lips. You kiss her back in earnest, loving the way she absolutely melts and goes slack against you. Her lips are soft and sweet, tasting just like the cocktail you’d stolen from her earlier. Ellie’s hands find your waist, digging in before traveling lower and lower. You break away, snatching at her hands before pushing them up against the door. Ellie actually groans, frustrated at no longer being able to touch you. 

“No touching allowed.”

She frowns at that and you begin pulling her in by the drawstrings of her shorts. Pushing her down onto the bed, you climb up to sit in her lap. With your right hand, you caress her cheeks, just like you did in the locker room, and run your thumb across her bottom lip.

“Are we doing this or not?” She huffs out, those green eyes leering at you, “I’m sick of playing these games with you.”

“Oh Ellie,” You say with a coy smile, “I think you’re going to like this one.”

You lean down as if to kiss her, but instead move just past her lips and latch onto her neck. Mouthing down her neck you find a spot you like, licking over it and then sucking. Ellie moans below you, lifting her hips feebly to create some sort of friction and failing. “Mmm, you gotta be patient dear. Good girls get rewarded.”

The condescending tone of your voice, absolutely pisses her off and yet…she listens. Because despite everything, yes, she wants to be good. She wants to be good for you. You kiss down to her collarbones, sucking and leaving marks along the way. After making quick work of Ellie’s shirt and sports bra, you drink in the sight of her bare skin. The sight fills your head with all sorts of intrusive thoughts of the debaucherous kind.

“What if I…what if I just bit you here?” You murmur as you caress the spot just above her breast. Not waiting for an answer you bite down, loving the way Ellie’s body immediately responds, gasping, hips lifting involuntarily once more. You lick over the bite mark before moving to kiss her again, sucking at her lips, loving how needy the girl beneath you was becoming. So pliant and sweet, the contrast between her and the girl you went toe to toe with on a daily basis almost gives you whiplash. You take pity on her and lodge your thigh in between her legs. Ellie immediately grinds down, moaning into your mouth due to the pressure against her center that was so good and yet not enough.

“Feels good?” You mumble into her neck even though you know the answer. The tiny puffs of breath and gasps in your ear letting you know just how good it felt. Your hands tease at the waistband of her shorts before you make the decision that Ellie should be rid of them completely. She all too happily helps you remove them along with her positively soaked underwear. 

“Yes, yes, you feel so fucking good just-” She breaks off into a deep moan as you run your fingers over her slit. God she was so fucking wet, you could barely contain your own groan at how slick and soft she felt on your fingertips “Yea Williams? How long have you wanted this huh?”

“I think the better question is how long have you wanted this. Eye fucking me in the locker room, riling me up on purpos-haah! Fuck–” You swipe your fingers over her clit, once and then twice before settling into a rhythm, circling the nub in small, tight circles. The wetness from her cunt makes it all too easy to work her over, and the action has Ellie positively keening, the sensation causing her to dig her fingers in where they lay on your shoulders.

That feeling doesn’t last long though, not with how slow you start going. And Ellie knows you’re doing that shit on purpose. She knows you want her to beg, wants her to tell you exactly what she wants. If for no other reason than to embarrass her like always. She couldn’t come like this, she needed more, needed you inside.

Sensing Ellie’s increasing frustration in her whimpers you ask innocently, “What is it?” You peck the brunette gently on her lips. Ellie’s eyes harden at you, but her voice betrays her, the small “please” coming out more needy than she intended for it to. 

“Come on, show me baby,” Your fingers tease at her sopping wet entrance. “Show me how you want me to fuck you.”

Ellie visibly shivers at your words and without leaving your eyes, she directs your hand a bit lower, “Your fingers, put them inside.” Her voice has taken on a huskier tone, doing nothing to hide her desire, desire that made her green eyes swirl with something deep and dark. Your fingers, first one and then a second, slip inside her with ease. The action has Ellie moaning loudly despite herself at the welcome intrusion. “Yes - fucking fuck me just like that.” 

You giggle, almost crazed, amazed by how tight and soft she is inside.  You curl those fingers, stroking at her walls inside, feeling her cunt pulsing around your fingers. She moans brokenly beneath you, the sound spurring you to go deeper, give her more,“Wow El, already?”

“God - even now your such a fucking bitch.” Her voice has taken on a high lilt and you know she’s close. Your hand itches to lightly smack her but that was a kink that you’d have to discuss with her. If you ever did this again. God, did you hope there’d be an again.

“That's cute considering how I’ve got you squeezing my hand right now.” Your thumb swipes across her clit as you increase your pace, the small change that has Ellie rolling her hips until she is almost riding your hand. 

“Gonna make yourself cum all over my hand? Yea?” You call to her in a voice you barely recognize as your own. Instead of answering, Ellie kisses you to shut you up, shivering as she cums all over your fingers. She moans into your mouth as your fingers fuck her through the orgasm, prolonging it. Finally, the brunette grabs your wrist, the pleasure teetering on the edge of too much.  

You pull away from her lips to stare at her. Freckled cheeks flushed a pretty pink, her lips parted still making the attempt to catch her breath and her eyes. Her blissed out, hooded gaze meets yours straight on, open, vulnerable. The sight makes you look away, uncomfortable, but not upset. That was a new look. You quickly decided you never wanted her to look at anyone like that, either.

Slowly, as not to hurt her, you remove your fingers from her pussy. You bring them to your mouth for a taste, before deciding to lick them clean. You hear Ellie groan at the site, and you grin, rushing over to plant your lips on hers. She kisses you back, but still manages to complain, “Shit - you’re fucking disgusting.”

You laugh and kiss her again, before you run your fingers over her sensitive folds “I want to taste you here too, El.” Ellie meets your gaze, unsure but also full of an uncured desire, “Have you done that before?”

Instead of answering, you travel downwards, kissing her pale thighs, toned from numerous practices and team workouts. You resist the urge to bite into them, instead you place a sweet kiss on her swollen clit. You wouldn't make her work so hard for this one. “You’ve been so good for me. So sweet and good.” You whisper from between her thighs.

Ellie's body shivers at the praise because secretly that was literally all she ever wanted from you, your approval. And Ellie decided that if this was the way she could have it, she'd be more than content with that.

You lick tentatively down her slit at first, letting your tongue linger on her clit before you carefully suck the pearl between your lips. Ellie gasps, body trembling from beneath you and you have to grab her hips pressing them into the mattress to keep her from moving. 

Her hand combs through your hair before gripping tighter when she feels your tongue slip inside. From above you hear her gasping out one expletive after another as she rolled her hips, chasing the pleasure only you could give her.

Ellie’s back arches as she moans deep in her throat, and you know she is going to come. Feeling her grinding against your tongue you can't help but to groan into her cunt, loving the way she responds to the vibrations with a long drawn-out moan. Ellie covers her face with her arm as she finally peaks once more. Gasping out your name, she comes for the second time that night. You lick at her wetness until she ultimately pushes you away, with a noncommittal “Fucking hell - no more.”

After she finally begins to catch her breath Ellie finally says, “I had my suspicions...but honestly this whole time I thought you were straight.” 

“Yea, well you and me both….maybe I have been a bit repressed. And a bitch.”

Ellie hums, before suddenly sitting straight up, “Wait a goddamn minute. You fucked me like that for your first time????”

You rub the side of your neck avoiding her eyes, “I mean, I know what I like so…” You look at her and offer a shrug.

Ellie’s green eyes darken again, “Show me.”

[sketchy-rosewitch]

small request for Vincent maybe? him just seeing his s/o kinda out of it, just having a sort of blank face and he knows that they're probably in a weird headspace and feeling kinda empty so he just. like. goes and hugs them. or cuddles. idk. i want Vincent hug, that'd fix me fr.

It’s Okay: Vincent x gn!Reader

Warnings: Angst, Soft Cuddles

A/N: I think a hug from Vincent could fix everyone. I enjoyed writing this!

Masterlist

Vincent could tell something was up with you. You’d been quiet for the past few days but he didn’t know what to do about it. Usually when he and Bo went through rough patches they both wanted alone time. But you weren’t like Vincent or Bo, you didn’t hide away your emotions waiting until the dam broke. You usually spoke about them with him, worked things out so you’d be happier. This was strange. But he did give you those few days to see if you did want space. But he knows you well enough to know a few days is too many.

Vincent walks up the basement stairs then the living room stairs and walks into yours and his hardly used bedroom. Normally the two of you would sleep in his art room, yet you also hadn’t been down there.

You’re laying in bed, looking at the ceiling when he comes in, no expression readable on your face. Stone faced and sad looking.

He takes off his jacket and walks over to the bed. You like the smell of him so maybe you’d like having his jacket on you. Vincent lays it gently on you and toes off his boots, sliding in next to you.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is raspy, barely above a whisper. He looks into your eyes and they read nothing. You shrug, you’re frowning going deeper. Your face twitches slightly, just little things Vincent noticed about you. A tear comes down your face. “S’okay.”

He takes his mask off and sets it on the bedside table then wraps his arms around you. The undeveloped side of his face buries into your neck, you hold his arm as he cuddles into you.

Vincent kisses your neck gently, only love coming from it. Then, the dam breaks, your breath shakes, you cry into his shoulder as your arms wrap tightly around him. “I dunno whats wrong!” You sob. He rubs your head and down your back then holds the back of your neck. “I feel like nothing, I don’t like feeling like this.” You whisper, Vincent nods and you bury yourself into him more, wanting to just be connected to him and not alone. He understands.

“Sometimes..” His almost never used voice cracks. “Ya jus’ feel that way. Just need some love is all.” Vincent explains, he kisses your head and soothes you. Slightly rocking , you touch his face and move up touching his soft hair too. You smile sadly. But your heart warms up just a little more as you two sit there and cuddle. He squeezes you and lets you stay in whatever position this is you’re in, as you play with his hair, making sure to keep him close.

[seoness]

More Than Our Servitude - Part IV

NSFW | Fluff | (TV) Sandor Clegane x Fem!Reader | Multi-part | Requested

Trigger warning: Bartering sex with a non-romantic interest.

Summary: The greatest defender is not always the strongest and sometimes all it takes for fate to be rewritten is the presence of another.

Author's note: While this part does not have smut, please remember that other parts do. We are deviating from the TV show, weaving it together with the books. So if you're thinking, "Hold on, did it happen like this?" Nah. But it's whatcha ma call it? Creative liberty! This fic is written to be compatible with the browser add-on InteractiveFics. Please use it or a similar browser add-on/extension for the greatest amount of immersion.

Test: y/n and y/n.(if that is your chosen name, it means it's working).

The imprint of hooves was barely visible in the mud. Your heart hadn't stopped hammering and the heat that pressed at your face wouldn't go.

This wasn't what he needed.

"Shit."

You rubbed away the tears only for them to return, clouding your view. Why fool yourself?

You weren't what he needed.

Even if you caught up with them, what could you even do? That thought, that hopelessness, was nothing to the cold that came whenever the vision snuck up. A body, mangled by cuts and half-a-hundred blows, the blood swallowed up by the mud. The dark eyes turned pale as milk.

If that is what met you... No, Sandor was strong, too stubborn for death. You pulled the cloak snug, but the embrace of damp wool offered little comfort. He couldn't die. He couldn't!

"Shit, shit, shit!"

The birch trees gave way to a sea of ferns, the narrow path the party had kept on joined up with a brook, slithering its way through moss and stone alike, the mud littered with tracks — Stranger had lost his temper.

At least the hellhorse hadn't paid with his life. Peering out on the path ahead, the setting sun made each tree cast long shadows that danced with the wind, and somewhere out there, a howl rang. Beyond the leaves, plumes of smoke rose up to meet the sky. Had they taken up camp?

Hope flickered. You could sneak, and wait for dark if time allowed. There was hope. You took a step forward when the sound came. A branch broke. The world went black. A heaviness slammed against your back, forcing you to hunch forward. Arms, you felt them now, the balled-up fist that had dragged the sack on your head. You screamed. Nails catching flesh, cloth, anything as you tore.

"Quit you struggling," a stranger's voice cursed, but it only made the nails drive deeper.

The stranger shook, hard, roaring, "I said quit it!"

Another voice came, brighter, "You're not calming her."

"You want to try? No? Then shut your mouth."

Your feet hit against something soft and the bright voice groaned out, making laughter bellow behind you, "A true calming presence. Try again, won't ya?."

"Sod off. Just carry her to the others, will you?"

Your scream cut short as the world moved once more and a shoulder hit your stomach. Arms clenching around your legs.

"Why are you doing this, there's nothing for you to steal?!"

The plead made the stranger beneath you laugh again, "Aye, a true innocent maiden you is sniffing about our trail."

The blows at his back bounced back against the boiled leather. "She's kinder to me, how'd she know I had a sore back."

When the body beneath you finally stopped moving, your fists were throbbing with pain.

"Caught this dove spying." The next, your feet hit the ground, the sack yanked off your head and all you could do was try not to fall over.

Another spoke, a thick accent on his tongue, "You know this one, Dog?"

And there the Hound was, surrounded by men and women alike, but the hatred in their faces was nothing to what burned in his. Stripped to nothing more than his breeches and undertunic, bound with rope, the men closest to Sandor still never let their eyes off him. There was danger in him yet.

And above all, he was alive. You weren't too late.

The Hound looked at you like they had dragged the village dimwit before him, turning to the man closest. He was nothing more than bones draped in a red robe matted by layer upon layer of dust.

"Never seen her."

But the man in the red robe, you had seen him before. Yes, at the Red Keep. A friend of Robert Baratheon. Thoros of Myr. A cursed name amongst the washerwomen of the Red Keep, none made more wine stains than the drunkard that paraded himself a Red Priest.

Your captor shook you again.

"Tell 'em your name." What good would that do? Pressing your lips shut, you looked up at the one who had swung you about like some rag doll.

Gods, he made the paupers of Flea Bottom look like nobility. A few strands of blond hair had avoided the mat that clumped around his head. Your stomach turned as he lowered, sniffing your hair, while your nose filled with the stench of urine and sweat. "Smells nice. The lions sending their ladies out to spy for 'em now?"

"You know that one, alright," Thoros chuckled, patting Sandor's shoulder. "Careful, Otho, I think the Hound wants you dead."

Sandor's eyes were black with rage and three more men knocked their bows. This wasn't an army. Bandits? Yet in the mass, there were women and children. The surroundings... this was a village. Farms, shops, and a tavern. You had been carried to a village square. At your right, chains creaked and a whimper left your lips. Crowcages. Already occupied. Each prisoner's chest was feathered with an arrow.

But before fear could take hold, Thoros of Myr spoke again, "We have stayed too long. Take the woman."

And the sack returned over your head.

The smell of smoke and wet hay clung to the roughspun sack. At times the darkness it kept was broken, torches passing, voices muddled. A swarm of hands caught you as Otho threw you off his shoulder, the floor hard and slippery beneath your feet. A yelp left your lips, and in an instant, the hands were gone.

"Otho, take off the sack." It was a stranger's voice, whispering out in the dark.

But the body beside you, that had carried you on his shoulder for what felt like an eternity, did not move. "Pardon his rudeness," the voice said.

The world outside wasn't much brighter but a long face with kind eyes met you.

"Anguy," the stranger said.

Otho huffed, "Don't bother. We're not good enough for the lady's name."

You stopped listening to their bickering, looking past Anguy's shoulder. The fire crackled within the large brazier, and flames soared high as the men fed it with timber, its light reaching the roof of dirt, roots, and rock. A cavern? The brazier burned bright enough for you to make out the faces around you. More men, more hate in their eyes, but none was for you.

The Hound had been dragged into the middle of it all. Thoros of Myr pulled the sack off his head to the hooting and curses of the crowd.

Strands of Sandor's hair had slicked to his forehead with sweat, and there was a wildness to his eyes you'd never seen before and an edge to his voice, "You look like a bunch of swine herds."

"Some of us were swine herds, and some was tanners and masons," Anguy answered him. "That was before."

The Hound let out a snort, "You are still swine herds and tanners and masons. You think carrying a crooked spear makes you a soldier?"

Shut up! Mocking them wouldn't make them merciful. Why did he need to be so stubborn? But you knew... Sandor Clegane would never plead for his life.

"Fighting in a war makes you a soldier," a voice from the crowd answered.

The bodies around you moved, but Anguy's body kept you from getting a clear view of the man that stepped forth from the crowd.

"Beric Dondarrion, you've seen better days."

"And I won't see them again." The voice that answered him, something with that man made the amusement in the Hound's face falter.

Sandor didn't stay on him, looking back out over the crowd. "Stark deserters... Baratheon deserters... you're not fighting in a war, you're running from it."

"Last I heard, you were King Joffrey's guard, but here you are a thousand miles from home. Which of us are running?" Beric countered.

"Untie these ropes, and we'll find out," Sandor answered, his mouth twisting. "What are you doing? Leading a mob of peasants?"

"Ned Stark ordered me to execute your brother in King Robert's name."

"Ned Stark is dead, King Robert is dead, my brother is alive." Sandor spat at the ground. "You are fighting for ghosts."

"That's what we are. Ghosts," Beric's voice grew tense. "Waiting for you in the dark, you can't see us, but we see you. No matter whose cloak you were. Lannister, Stark, Baratheon? You pray on the weak the Brotherhood without Banners will hunt you down."

All around you, eyes lit up like cats reading to pounce. You opened your mouth to speak, to call out to Sandor, but your throat had dried up to nothing.

The Hound looked even less impressed after the lord's speech. "You found the gods, is that it?"

Shut up.

"Aye, I've been reborn in the light of the one true god, as have we all. As would any man that have seen what we've seen," Beric answered him.

Disgust spread on the Hound's face. "If you mean to murder me bloody well get on with it."

No.

"You'll die soon enough, Dog, but it won't be murder only justice."

"N-!" Your scream was muffled against Otho's hand.

But the sound was enough for their attention to turn to you, Sandor's mouth pressing to a thin line. "This one was found sniffing our trail. It seems the Hound has found himself a woman," Otho said.

Laughter spread throughout the cave while Thoros of Myr stepped closer to you. It was pointless to fight against the Red Priest as he took hold of your hands. Otho's grip was like a vice.

Thoros didn't need to study your hands for long before his face softened. "You're no lady, are you? These are a worker's hands," he said. "No need to be wounded, sweetling. They are far softer than mine ever will be."

The Hound tugged at the binds that held him. "Just a whore. Found her some leagues past, not paid her yet."

"A Lannister always pays their debt," Thoros muttered to himself.

"He's not a Lannister," you said.

What rested in the Red Priest's eyes was no secret. Who he thought you to be. A fool. Pitiful. Pat you on the head and be kind to you for a day, and you'll never mention the Hound again. It was they that were no different from the Lannisters. Who did as they pleased, who thought themself better.

Anguy raised his voice, "Lions you call yourselves. At the Mummer's Ford, girls of seven years were raped, and babes still on the breast were cut in two while their mothers watched."

"I wasn't at the Mummer's Ford. Dump your dead children at some other door," Sandor growled back, his patience long since withered away.

Thoros released your hand and faced the Hound once more. "House Clegane was built upon dead children. I saw them lay Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys before the Iron Throne."

"Do you take me for my brother? Is being born Clegane a crime?"

"Murder is a crime," Beric answered.

"I never touched the Targaryen babes. I never saw them, never smelled them, never heard them bawling. You want to cut my throat, get on with it! But don't call me murderer and pretend that you're not."

Finally. A solid argument. They couldn't deny it. You could see it on their faces. The Mother Above had smiled down on you both, captured by the only righteous group of bandits in the Seven Kingdoms.

A child's voice rose above the murmur of men. "You murdered Mycah. The butcher's boy. My friend. He was twelve years old. He was unarmed. And you rode him down. You slung him over your horse like he was some deer."

"Aye, he was a bleeder."

"You don't deny killing this boy?" Beric asked.

"I was Joffrey's sworn shield. The boy attacked the prince."

A girl stepped forward, dressed in boy's clothes and her hair cut short. "That's a lie! I hit Joffrey. Mycah just ran away."

Sandor let out a snort, "Then I should have killed you. Not my place to question princes."

More hoots and curses filled the cave. That... that was his defense? No, he'd die. Mycah? He was no servant you knew, but he attacked the prince. That rang a bell... Starks. When the court left the Red Keep for Winterfell.

Your hand slipped back, in between your body and that of Otho's.

"You stand accused of murder. But no one here knows the truth of the charge, so it is not for us to judge you. Only the Lord of Light—"

The pained howl silenced the Lord. The grip on your arm became iron, and in turn, your grip on Otho's manhood grew just as strong.

"YOU RABID BITCH!"

You would have hit the ground face first if not for Thoros catching you, and a wave of men came at your back, grabbing their brother. You couldn't focus on the set of hands that clawed after you, ready to turn you into pulp. Pushing away from the Red Priest, you caught the eye of Lord Beric Dondarrion.

"By what right do you act judge on that boy's death?" you asked, loud enough for your voice to be heard above that of Otho's curses. "Do you see yourself as greater than your King, Lord Beric?"

But it wasn't he who opened his mouth to speak. The Hound did. "Not a word!" you roared out.

Sandor had tried to defend himself and failed. He couldn't die. You wouldn't let him, and by the gods, he wasn't helping. If he wanted to punish you, he could very well do it when he was alive and well.

Looking back to Beric Dondarrion, you continued, "The death occurred when the King returned to King's Landing from Winterfell, did it not? Then King Robert would have known of the boy's death and did not charge Sandor Clegane as a murderer, so by what right do any of you?"

You tried not to tremble, to not feel the gazes of at least fifty men burning your back.

"The lion's fury is a fierce one," Beric said, "and much happens within a camp."

"So you say King Robert was a craven to his wife? The Hand of the King must have known, and there was no charge made then," you countered. "The will of our King might not please you, but it is not for any of us to question."

The girl's voice brimmed with anger, "He murdered Mycah! He's a murderer!"

Thoros stepped closer to Beric, whispering, but the lord shook his head. "There is little reason to be rash, Thoros. The Hound is our captive. If justice commands us to end his life, so be it, but it shall be justice, not murder."

And the lord's gaze fell on you. "Come, there are questions that I seek answers for."

The cave ran deep. Beric guided you through the crowd and over the sleeping mats and past crates. Arming himself with a torch before the cavern walls started to close in, not stopping until a dead end forced it.

The lord held out his hand. "May I?" And you did not dare do anything else, placing your hand in his palm. "Thoros spoke true, but you speak like one born a lady."

Maybe a lie? Claim yourself some lady and threaten with bloody vengeance if they dared harm Sandor. But what good would that do? They were outlaws. That threat already hung over their heads.

"I served as a washerwoman at the Red Keep... servants that walk the halls are supposed to speak properly."

"Your name?"

"y/n."

y/n of nothing. No lady. No house. No power. You had lived a long enough life to know the truth of the world. Lords seldom listened, not to your kind. How many of your friends had not groveled to Ser Ilyn Payne? It made no difference. But there was one thing that was different this time, this wasn't your life.

Pain shot from your knees as they hit the floor, and your forehead met the cool stone. "Please," your voice thick," please, don't kill him."

It was a lord's voice that answered. Steady. Calm. Unyielding. "The man killed a child and admitted to the act, yet you defend him."

"He admitted to killing the boy. It was his duty..." you leaned back and met the lord's gaze. "Not all have the fortune of serving those that are good of heart. I know him, the man you and your men insist on calling a dog, and he is not the evil you think."

Your throat grew snug. "He killed a boy that was accused of attacking the prince. Why do your men, why do you, my lord, act like anything else is needed? Servants do not get trials. A charge, the word of a Queen, of a Prince is more than enough."

"And you defend such a world? The Brotherhood without Banners does not turn a blind eye to cruelty."

Without thought, your hand shot out, gripping his leg. "Then kill the one who ordered such cruelty. Do not pretend to make an example of him when his death would be the exception."

Some lords would have kicked you in the face for daring to touch them but Beric just shook his head.

"To think the Hound of all men would have a woman pleading for his life." His gaze wandered to the scar by your throat. "And that?"

"Bandits attacked us. Sandor could have abandoned me there, but he risked his life to save me. No one ordered him to. Left to his own, he does good. He is good. I'll swear it before any and all gods, both the Old and the New. To your Red God. Please, my lord."

You searched his face. The right eye had been claimed and covered by a patch, the cheeks gaunt. Clothes torn and patched, but the man stood tall, regal in his rags. The Stranger made flesh. The still face of a lord grew warm, and the man beneath peaked through.

"I do not mean to stare. It has been too long since I have had the company of a woman." He barely finished speaking before the man's eye became as wide as yours. "Forgive me, do not take that as... it has been a long time since I've spoken to someone who wasn't out for blood, be it mine or that of other men."

Looking down at his boots, your heartbeat grew. The implication remained. Men had given much for such comfort, especially those starved. "But if I... will you spare him if I allow it?"

Silence hung heavy over your shoulders. Was he too proper to openly accept? His boot, his left, had a deep scuff on its toe. You couldn't look away from it. Listening to the blood flowing in your ears. Now, if anything, you expected to tremble as you reached for the lacing of your dress, but your hands were steady and nimble. The scuff of his boot disappeared from view.

"I am not my enemy," the lord's voice returned as Beric caught you by the wrists. "It would be a lie to say that I have never paid for a woman's kindness, but you have no want for me, my lady "

"I want Sandor to live."

"Saving your life earned him this loyalty?"

You frowned. "I love him."

The lord looked to have preferred a slap to the face than that admittance.

"I wish to pray, and there is little love out there for one of your sentiments, so I urge you to wait here while I do."

No prayer left the man's lips. Beric only stared at the fire of his torch. After some time, the lord straightened and turned towards the tunnel. He wasn't the only one who had made up his mind.

"Anything you do to him shall be done to me." Your words stopped the man in his tracks. "If you cannot fathom sentencing me the same as him, then your judgment is wrong."

"Do not make threats you cannot uphold."

"One way or the other it will be upheld," you said.

The warmth of your breath built up inside the sack. In that darkness, a pair of steel-clad arms rested at your sides, steading you on the stallion's back. Beric's speech was a blur. Not that much could be heard above the thumping of your heart. You had stood there like a statue, watching as the armor returned on the Hound, aided by Beric Dondarrion's squire. The girl's scream, her roar, followed you along the forest path. There hadn't only been hatred for the Hound in those eyes. One got used to being looked upon like vermin when serving in the halls of the Red Keep, but that wasn't the hatred in that girl's eyes. To her, you were pure evil.

"This should be far enough," the voice stirred you from thought.

The Hound moved, and you heard the swat of cloth and fumbling steps before he lifted the sack of your head and flung it to the one they called Greenbeard.

The outlaw unhooked Sandor's sword from his belt, holding it out. "Go on your way now. Do anything foolish and Anguy will feather you dead."

By the treeline, the bowman stood, barely visible in the night, the light of his brethren's torches caught on the tip of the arrow already knocked on its string. You knew the flow of insults was building inside Sandor and tapped on his chestplate.

"We should go," you said and nodded to his sword. "Please?"

The Hound ripped it out of Greenbeard's hand, making the four men that had been tasked to escort you away from their hideout perk up. Their hands all resting at the hilt of their swords.

Lem, the tallest and strongest amongst them, stepped forward. "Go on, Dog, scurry off!"

Sandor's grip around the scabbard grew. He couldn't! Your fingers latched onto his bevor, pulling up, making Sandor turn back to you and your lips locked. His mouth tense against yours. Your arms wrapped around his neck, deepening your kiss. Caring less to nothing of the world and men that surrounded you.

Pulling away, breathless. "You have better things to do than deal with that man."

The Hound huffed a laugh before pressing his heels into Stranger, letting the stallion charge ahead.

Not until the sky glowed in hues of orange and pale purple, welcoming the morning sun, did the horse slow. He lived. Unharmed. Leaning back against his chest, you sighed. Beneath that armor was a beating heart. A smile spread across your lips. Out of danger, your body bore the toll everything had taken and made Sandor's embrace as comfortable as the softest of featherbeds.

"What did Dondarrion want from you?" the rasp pulled you back from sleep.

The Hound hated liars.

"He had questions for me. I answered them," you said.

"Some answers," he snorted.

And a truth that could make him hate you. You peered up, meeting those dark eyes. "It helped to not insult him or his men. I got lucky, I suppose."

Sandor pressed into Stranger's sides to keep the horse from stopping. It wasn't a lie. There was much you knew. You knew such a defense would not be enough, knew it would anger him, knew it would hurt him. It was what you didn't know that kept you from saying the rest. Would he ride back? Was his pride too great?

A heaviness. A weight landed on you, yet it wasn't startling. Since Lord Beric's verdict of innocence, you had awaited it but if carrying this guilt was the price of keeping him alive, so be it.

"Are you feeling well?" you asked. "I... I don't know what the right question to ask is... They wanted you dead."

"Aye, not the first."

"You sound too calm for someone just escaping being lynched by a mob," you muttered.

You had been awake too long and walked too far. With sleep and something to fill your belly, this new weight of yours would be easier to shoulder. It wasn't like Lord Beric had taken up your offer. Sandor's face lowered, the tip of his nose brushing against your forehead before his lips followed.

"Think people go out of their way helping dogs? Never had that," there was a distance to his voice before a huff made strength return, tickling your face. "Some fierce defender you make."

"Can your defender request a camp where she can bathe? I stink of Otho."

Sandor lowered further, taking a sniff of the air around you. His face twisting. Stifling a cough.

"Many thanks," you said. "That is what all women want their men to do."

"You'll have your thanks later," he answered, coughing again.

Thank you for reading!

Quick question: Is there something you, as readers, want to see in future parts/don't want to see? A trope you absolutely want me to avoid. I might not be able to take everyone's wishes into account, but it would give me a better understanding of the wants of those following the fic. All thoughts and opinions are welcomed. 🤗

[imagineanythings]

Stronger Than Steel

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Words: 832

Just a sweet little drabble.

It's part of life, Steve going out on missions, risking his life, and always coming home to you. That doesn't make it any less scary when he's out there, or any less relieving when he returns. Even the strongest of us need to be cared for sometimes.

---------------------------------------------------------------------

He could crush steel with his bare hands. You watched the screen in front of you. It’s nothing you haven’t seen before, live footage of the Avengers taking on yet another potentially world-ending threat. You weren’t worried about the world. You rarely were anymore. You were worried about your world, wrapped in red, white, and blue, always carrying the weight of everyone else on his shoulders. Breath caught in your throat as he took another hit and refused to budge until he returned the blow with twice the strength. 

Lackeys fell like dominos as he moved through them with clinical efficiency. He was hard out there. Your sweet, sensitive lover was almost impossible to find in a man made of pure, polished gold. 

The leader of this particular assault, a hulking, alien-looking beast of a man, moved to fire some alien weapon at Natasha but received a shield to the stomach before he could pull the trigger. Steve moved in one, graceful motion. A powerful leap landed him next to the villain, and a twist and pull gave him an improvised weapon, a steel beam he ripped from the wall. Two precise and viscous strikes rendered the big bad unconscious, and Steve turned to his teammates. His jawline was set in stone, his eyes were hard and his grip on his shield harder. Even through the screen you could feel his knuckles turning white. 

You stood on the edge of the landing pad, chewing on your thumb nail. With a rush of wind and sound he came back to you, striding out of the jet all harshness and rough edges. He took you into the arms that could snap bone and crumple steel like paper so gently that you knew he would never hurt you. A ghost of a touch to his cheek released the tension in his jaw, and you watched the effects ripple through his body. The captain, your strong soldier, began to melt in your arms.

His shoulders slumped as his forehead came to rest on your shoulder. You brought a hand up and threaded fingers through his hair, you felt him release the tightness from his lungs with a deep, heavy sigh. 

“I missed you.” He whispered to your collarbone. 

“I missed you too.” You responded to his temple. 

He pulled back, a gentle smile now adorned his softened features. The hardness from the screen, the rough edges from the landing all soothed away. Now Steve stood in front of you, your sweet, kind, soft Steve, sweaty and exhausted, melting in your hands, refusing to pull away from your touch. 

“Let’s get you in a shower. You smell like shit.” The words began as a whisper but tumbled out with a giggle as you traced his jaw with your fingers. He simply chuckled and took your hand, your Captain giving you permission to take the lead. 

He let you guide him through the hallways and corridors of the compound. He followed obediently, barely paying attention to where he was going, knowing he didn’t need to. He let you pull him along, trusting you completely to always bring him home. 

He stepped out of a steaming shower with now much more relaxed muscles to find you on the couch, one of his shirts hanging too large on your frame. A bowl of popcorn and a bag of chocolates sat on the coffee table alongside two steaming mugs of tea. His lips spread into a broad smile, and he settled down next to you, kicking his legs up onto the couch and pulling you into his broad, solid chest. 

“How ya doing, big guy?” You asked softly. He nestled you closer to him and pressed a kiss to the top of your head. 

“‘M alright. Wasn’t a bad one today.”

“Still looked pretty scary.”

“Eh. I’ve seen much worse.” 

“Ok well I’m always scared.” You said with a sigh. He pulled you away and looked into your eyes.

“You never have to be scared. I promise you, nothing in this world or any other could ever stop me from coming home to you.” 

“Steve. You can’t promise that. There’s no way to know what will happen.” 

“No.” His eyes were determined and his jaw set. “I will always come home to you.” He broke eye contact in a moment of uncharacteristic sheepishness. It was cute. He found your eyes again, even more determined than before. “I love you, Y/N, and I always will. And nothing will keep me from coming home to my girl.” 

“I love you too Steve.” Your heart swelled and you kissed him quickly and gently, “plus if you ever don’t come back to me, I’m heading out there and dragging you back myself. I don’t care what crazy, superpowered maniacs I have to fight through, I’ll do it, I swear.” 

His laughter resonated through your entire body and he shook his head. “Yes Ma’am” He whispered before bringing your lips to his one more time. 

[opalescentdreamscape]

Part 3 of COD men in Stardew Valley, presenting... *drumroll* ... Johnny MacTavish!

Johnny moves to town in the middle of summer, after getting invited to dinner and drinks a few times by Kent. What little he had seen of the quaint place had been more than enough for him to know that it'd be a welcome change to his usual fast-paced environments. (Y'see, he's got this thing about fast motorbikes that he just can't seem to get away from...)

He moves into town one lovely Friday morning with a clang and a bang and the entire town wondering what just hit them, and they find out pretty dang quick. Johnny is fast to introduce himself to everyone and faster to make a few friends, like Shane, who admires his ability to drink and play a mean game of pool, and Sebastian, who can't help but enjoy Johnny's self-deprecating humor and shared love of motorcycles. He livens up the bar, being nearly too rowdy most nights but only just toeing the line, and really, with all the laughter he spreads around, no one is particularly peeved by his raucous ways.

Johnny, at first, doesn't think too much of the farmer. "Aye, farmin' is a good way to pass time, but it sounds awful boring, don't it?" He chuckles to them when they meet, accepting the basket of cheesy jalapeño poppers they hand him with a smile. "No offense intended, o'course. Jus' sounds a wee bit too slow of a lifestyle for my likin'."

"Oh yeah? Try this on for size: I spent all day yesterday using bombs to clear out gems and coal and stone and all sorts of other crap just so I could plants more watermelons on the south-west portion of my land. I also spent time just this weekend in the mines fighting monsters so I could get the materials I needed to start breeding slimes next season. Still sound boring?" Johnny has to admit that some of what they do *does* sound a smidge less boring than expected, and the conversation continues with a new thought brewing in his mind. All that land the farmer doesn't know what to do with, and it isn't like there's much going on in town according to the calendar... He approaches the farmer next morning, having given it all of an hours' thought and knowing he won't be able to rest until he puts his plan into motion.

"I don't know, Johnny, I'm pretty busy right now, and I'm not sure my farm has the space with all the crops I'm working on..."

"Oh c'mon, please? Jus' let us borrow some o' your land once a month or so, I'll be sure we dinnae leave a trace afterwards, be spic and span clean for ya, I promise!" He's barely even told the farmer what exactly it is he plans on doing yet, but with those big blue eyes staring them down like some sad puppy, how could they say no? Pretty easily, actually.

"No. But- hold on, before you go giving me the next saddest look I've ever seen, I've got a better idea. Have you seen the quarry yet?" Johnny admits that he hasn't, so you take him up on the rails, and he gets so excited upon seeing all the open space up there that he lifts the farmer in his arms for a moment before getting to work. The farmer, out of curiousity and nothing more (definitely nothing more), decides to help him clear things out for his project. The two of them break up all the rocks and compare homebrew bomb recipes while they're at it, and then have a contest for who can clear the most trees (Johnny swears the farmer won but they claim it was an even match.) They both take turns preparing the ground by pouring some big concrete slabs and then placing down beautiful wooden boards on the settled foundation, courtesy of all those trees that were chopped, creating a massive open floor space.

It takes 2 weeks between their regular duties and Johnny's other preparations, but the both of them finally finish setting the quarry up right as winter starts.

"It's no fair, we wen' and got everythin' nice and prettied up just for the weather to take a shite. Real nice." Johnny gripes and groans the whole day about it, lamenting the poor timing of it all, but decides to spend the winter staging the next part of his idea: getting people to show up. He decides the real affair will happen on the first good-weather Friday the coming spring, so obviously he needs to convince as many people from town as possible to show up before then.

He starts with the farmer, of course, then has a meeting with Gus and Lewis. Gus agrees to cater the event, and Lewis agrees that it would be a wholesome event to invite the town to, so he'll see about making an official notice to everyone. Next is Clint, to help with some decorations ("I've never made this kind of thing before, Johnny, but I guess I could try it." Clint is unsure at first, since he only usually makes tools and weapons, but really, how hard could it be to learn glassmaking? Very hard, he finds out, and he gripes to Johnny later that he's lucky he had so much time to figure it out before the event.) And finally, Emily and Haley for more decorations and activity ideas. By the time spring arrives, the entire town is buzzing about what Johnny has planned for them, with almost everyone having a part to play in setting it up and no one actually knowing what it is yet, or even where he's hosting it. ("Surely it won't be in his little cottage. Maybe the farmer's land, since they've been helping him this whole time?" "No, I just saw their fields, there's no space for a big gathering there.")

The day comes. It's the first Friday (man, Johnny really has a thing for starting the weekend right), the first warm, lovely Friday of the season. Poor Johnny has been on edge all week as he sets up all the final preparations and triple-checks that everything is going exactly as planned. The floor is set, the decorations are in place, everything is spic and span and cleaned and moved around, and the farmer nearly has to force Johnny to take breaks for food and drinks because he's so manic about the whole thing. The time finally arrives at 7 o'clock on the dot, with Johnny heading up to the quarry and the farmer meeting the attendees by the bus.

"Alrighty folks, are we ready to have one of the best parties I've ever had the pleasure to help host?" The farmer greets everyone they see, and the townsfolk all pause in confusion when, instead of hopping onto the bus, the farmer starts herding them in two's and three's to the minecart.

"Don't worry, everyone, Johnny has this planned out to a tee. Tonight is gonna be amazing!" The farmer encourages them all as they go, and half an hour later takes the cart to the quarry themselves to see what all the fuss Johnny has been making is about.

Well, they certainly aren't disappointed. The quarry entrance is covered in a gazebo-like structure, with colorful fairy lights and decorated woodworks obscuring the view to the rest of the quarry. Stepping out, they see the main space has been completely transformed from what it was. A massive dance floor takes up the main space, with several tables, speakers, chairs, and even a stage surrounding it. Fairy lights of all colors are strewn about, along with streamers, banners, flowers, and even a photo booth manned by Haley, who smiles at the line already forming in front of her. Gus and Linus are manning two grills near a few of the tables, which are already laden down with tons of snacks and plates. Emily is dancing by herself on a corner of the floor, and Robin and Demetrius are in another corner dancing together. Everywhere the farmer looks, there are people from their town, their *home*, having a good time and looking as happy as can be, and the smile they give Johnny is brighter than the sun as they think of it.

"Well? Whaddaya think? Is it too much?" Johnny sidles up next to the farmer, looking pleased with himself. It's really no wonder that they drag him onto the dance floor and start having a good time right then, and no one is surprised when Johnny and Linus and even Sam take turns leading group dances, or when Pam spikes the punch bowl, or even when Johnny kisses the farmer later that night during a slow song. Everyone files home after, still giggling with warm cheeks and tired feet, and Johnny walks the farmer to their doorstep after to make sure they got home safe. Definitely no other reasons, and there definitely wasn't any kissing involved.

Definitely not.

[toujokaname]

Card shuffle / Episode 5

Author: Akira

Characters: Kohaku, Niki, HiMERU, Hiiro

"This 'Matrix' is just a waste of a project that boasts an impressive facade yet remains hollow at its core."

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Season: Winter

Location: Café Cinnamon

Kohaku: Uh-huh, guess callin' it an end-of-year special program hits the nail on the head. With all the talented people wrapped up in the new year's developments, they're so busy that the leftover folks get the scraps.

Niki: *Munch munch munch* End-of-year specials always get ripped apart... Come to think of it, doesn't Rinne-kun always get on edge around the end of each year, too?

Kohaku: He's a surprisingly passionate man. Can't stand half-baked efforts, maybe?

HiMERU: Well, not all specials are so ostentatious.

However, this "Matrix" is just a waste of a project that boasts an impressive facade yet remains hollow at its core.

Kohaku: What a way of puttin' it...

HiMERU: There is a reason for HiMERU to say so.

The producer leading this project isn't held in high regard at ES.

Not gonna lie, it's an individual notorious as a LandmineP.

Niki: Uwah, HiMERU-kun used youthful language like "not gonna lie"~♪

HiMERU: Rather than youthful, you could call it anachronistic. Anyway, if ES is labeling it as a major event, the producer in charge should have a solid track record and skill.

Niki: Like Anzu-nee-san, maybe? She looks like an ordinary girl, but it surprised me to hear she's a very reputable and talented producer!

Kohaku: There's no way you didn't know that...

Niki: I've got her food preferences down pat!

Kohaku: Why can't ya put that enthusiasm into idol work?

HiMERU: Fufu. Well, you're right about that. Seems like Shiina's unusually understanding today.

If it's being touted as a major event, someone like Anzu-san should have been put in charge.

But in reality, Matrix is a landmine project with a low budget, a useless producer, and numerous unfavorable conditions.

Hiiro: Fumu, is it really that bad? That Matrix thing?

HiMERU: Yes. It's a textbook example of a hopeless project.

Matrix will take place over a month, during which Crazy:B and ALKALOID are supposed to have a total of ten matches—so it's said.

Despite the unnecessarily long time commitment, there are no specific dates or instructions mentioned in the plan.

Niki: Ah~ That's a problem, even I can see that... If I dunno in advance when it'll be busy, I can't adjust my part-time shifts.

HiMERU: Do you even need to work part-time at a restaurant anymore? Compared to the summer, we've been earning a reasonable amount of money through our idol activities, haven't we?

Niki: Being a chef's my main profession!

Kohaku: He says, eyes all sparkly...

Hiiro: Hehe. Actually, what HiMERU-san mentioned was on my mind too.

We're supposed to have ten matches, but what exactly does that entail?

If it involves physical combat, I might be in a bind. If Nii-san's skills haven't dulled, he'd still be stronger than me, and I don't want to hurt Aira and the others.

HiMERU: It seems unlikely that it will escalate to physical violence...

Niki: Why keep the details secret? Such a hassle!

Kohaku: Maybe it ain't set in stone yet, rather than bein' kept secret?

HiMERU: Yes. HiMERU shares this suspicion, as it tends to be the case with hopeless projects.

On paper, the plan looks grandiose, but in reality, its purpose is only to gain approval, devoid of any substance.

There's no preparation, no specific plans, absolutely nothing.

Niki: Is it like starting to chop veggies without even knowing what dish you're making?

HiMERU: Right. So you understand it by comparing it to cooking, Shiina. You can't make a good dish with such a haphazard approach, can you?

Niki: Well, even with that, I could whip up something decent~

HiMERU: A skilled chef like you could. However, it seems that this producer lacks such an ability. Sadly.

Kohaku: Still, if we're called upon, we can't refuse. That's the tough part of bein' newbies... Even if we spot a landmine right in front of us, we've got no choice but to walk that path.

Unpleasant stuff like that always seems to find its way to the most vulnerable.

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