#fairies' training camp

[nalu-gifs]

“Is waiting for someone to return really this lonely?”

[moneypowerglorymiddleofmiami]

— trickentine જ⁀➴♡ ︎

pairing: luke castellan x aphrodite!reader

summary: when eros, the god of love, makes the annual valentine visit to camp half-blood, he conveniently unintentionally leaves his bow and arrow in the capable hands of his younger half-sister.

warnings: nothing i think, except for like one curse word (pls do tell me if i miss any though!)

genre: ...romcom?

part 2

─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───

The gods were many things: powerful at their core, benevolent to those who merit it, temperamental when goaded, and mysterious in their methods— but there was one trait that defined them most of all, incandescently littered in their tales and lores: they were tricksters.

You really should’ve known better than to pick up that stray quiver of arrows.

─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───

The Aphrodite Cabin consistently made it a point to celebrate Valentine’s Day with much fanfare. Everyone has been busy the entire week preceding it; there were fresh roses to harvest, pink and red deserts to be made, hundreds of paper hearts to be cut, ribbons to be tied and acres to decorate. As one of the older siblings, a huge chunk of the responsibility fell on your shoulders. Needless to say, you spent an entire extra hour in the bathroom trying to put your concealer to good use.

A mere 10 minutes after leaving your cabin on V-Day, you’d managed to snap and glare at nearly everyone who even thought of intercepting your path.

Nearly everyone because you knew better than to direct your ire at the god of love.

“You didn’t even blend.” Eros said, perusing your make-up judgmentally. “Consider your favorite demigod sister card revoked.”

In his current human form, his hair was a deep shade of black and coiffed to perfection, his eyes a brown hue that you could only describe as melodramatic, and his skin beautifully tanned from frolicking in the sunlight.

Gods, how you missed to frolick in the sunlight. These days, you had to slave in it.

“Lord Eros.” You bowed, desperately fighting the urge to roll your eyes and purse your lips.

“I adore what you’ve done with the place.” He waved his hand off dismissively. He trudges ahead of you, officially beginning his annual Valentine inspection. “Although I definitely think it could use a little more sparkle. Perhaps a little more pink, too.”

‘Pink? For Valentines? Groundbreaking.’ You drawled inside your head. “The Hephaestus cabin is tinkering with a smoke machine to make it emit glitter.”

“Wonderful.” He replied passively, his attention drawn towards the dining pavilion where hundreds of glowing hearts hung from mid-air. Eros turned towards you. “Fairy lights on the beams?”

“On it.” You nodded your head tiredly, scribbling messily onto a notepad. “Anything else?”

“Everything’s perfect, except…” He trailed off before raising an eyebrow at you. “Find yourself a boyfriend, maybe? You need to loosen up.”

“Oh my gods,” You muttered under your breath, fighting the urge to physically recoil.

─── ° ᡣ𐭩 . ° . ───

“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you slacking off on training.” Luke chastised with a tut, tugging your arm towards the training areas. Your feet were basically dragging against the dirt, soiling your sneakers and flicking particles of dust against your skirt, but you couldn’t care less.

“Luke, look around you. What do you see?” You asked, your tone too saccharine to be considered serious.

He decided to humor you anyway. “Hearts.”

“10 points to House Hermes. Now,” You leaned in conspiratorially, “Who do you think set this whole place up?”

Luke barely opened his mouth before you answered your own question.

“Me.” You jabbed a finger against your chest. You narrowed your eyes at him. “I set this whole place up. I planned it— the theme, the color scheme, the glitter, the ribbons, the dazzling pink fountain with mini-Cupids who sing at the hour!”

“It looks very pretty!” He said, panicked.

“Yes, I know it looks very pretty.” You kissed your teeth. “Don’t you think I deserve a little break because it looks very pretty?”

He shook his head.

“You are insufferable!” You groaned.

“Hey! In my defense,” He raised both of his arms in the air to plead innocence, “You’re the one who said you wanted to develop a skill by the end of the summer."

His voice was pitched higher by the end in a poor imitation of your’s. You scrunched your nose in distaste.

“Gods, why do I keep digging my own grave?” You mumbled. Luke shook his head in amusement.

He led you into the clearing of the archery field, a line of circle targets dotted around the edge of the forest. A quiver of arrows was hung against the branches, different from the ones in the armory but definitely familiar to you.

“You can use those. Guess one of the kids forgot to return them after practice.” He shrugged. Luke mustn’t have noticed the difference.

You reached up to grab the weapons, still incredulous but definitely not alarmed enough to hesitate. The material thrummed in your hands.

“Go shoot.” He grinned.

“Very helpful instructions.” You muttered.

“Well, it’s pretty straightforward, sweetheart.” He sauntered over to one of the targets, leaning against the wooden frame. “You’ve been taught the basics, you just need the application. Now, shoot.”

“I could literally hit you.” You said blankly as you mounted the arrow against your bow.

“Consider it your challenge to not hit me.” He raised a thumbs-up.

“You’re insane.” You responded, irked and stressed by his casualness. “I’m sleep-deprived!"

Again, Luke just shrugged his shoulders. You huff, but then follow his lead anyway. You close one eye as you raise your weapon to your line of vision, zeroing in on the target.

As soon as the arrow flicked away from your fingers, it changed its course. When it should’ve followed a curved arch towards the red target, it whizzed away and made a beeline straight for Luke. A pink trail of haze followed its path.

“Duck!” You yell.

The arrow pierced through his chest at nearly the same time Luke’s body collided with the ground.

“That’s where those went.” Eros snapped his fingers as he emerged behind you. His glinting eyes were looking intently at the bow and quiver on you, an imperciptible smile on his face.

Your eyes widened in surprise. Shit.

“Lord Eros! I sincerely apologize.” You immediately took off the weaponry, holding them in your hands then kneeling as if to offer them back. You definitely did not want a god to be at odds with you. The two of you might have the same mother, but that didn’t mean you were equal in Aphrodite’s eyes. “I wasn’t-”

“Nah, don’t worry about it, sis.” He said, tapping your shoulder. Was he actually consoling you? “I shouldn’t have left it out in the open anyways.”

He pulled you up by the arm gently, snapping his fingers and getting the remnants of grass off of your knees. He even picked off a stray leaf from your hair. What in Tartarus was this?

For as long as you’ve known Eros and he’s practically coerced you into a dysfunctional sibling relationship, this was the kindest thing he’s ever done. Yes, the bar was low.

Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

“You didn’t use this on someone, did you?” Eros asked, cradling the quiver and bow against him like a child.

“I think I managed to hit Luke—”

“You didn’t!” He interrupted with a theatrical gasp, a hand covering his mouth. He was such a drama queen.

You narrowed your eyes. He planned this, didn't he?

He smirked wider when he noticed the change in your demeanor, the realization behind your gaze. You swore his pupils changed to hearts for a moment.

“Good luck with lover boy, little sis.” He turned around, showing you the back of his hand as he waved goodbye.

[seung-mong]

seung-mong's kinktober 2024!

gulp~ they're right behind me arent they? well... more like on top!

☆BANGCHAN☆

whats your favorite scary movie? - after a mysterious call in the middle of the night threatens to ruin horror movie night with your friends, you cant help shake the feeling that someone's watching your every move. at this point you dont know what's worse: a creepy stalker managing to sneak his way into the house, or how awkward and fidgety chan's been all evening!

includes: ghostface!bangchan x fem!reader, stalking, choking, slight knife play, blood kink, +more!

☆LEEKNOW☆

and so the lion fell in love with the lamb - after moving to romania against your parents' wishes to live a peaceful life with your dying grandfather, your dreams are plagued with visions of pale, almost shimmering skin, droplets of crimson red blood with the taste of the sweetest wine, and sharp fangs that make you sweat in your sleep. your grandfather can only urge you to pray, despite the growing dread in the pit of his stomach at the sight of the bruises that linger on your skin. not to mention the puncture wounds right by the side of your neck!

includes: vampire!leeknow x inexperienced fem!reader, stalking, religious themes, marking, +more!

☆CHANGBIN☆

not all monsters do monstrous things - changbin's been acting different lately, and you're hesitant to talk to him about it. after the accident that left him bloodied and bruised, the last thing you want to do is bring up how he's become so distant lately, passing up on opportunities to hang out, refusing your physical affection, ditching you for the new group of friends that seemed to appear out of thin air. but when he stands you up on your birthday dinner on Halloween, you know he's crossed the line!

includes: werewolf!changbin x fem!reader, childhood best friends trope, depictions of gore and violence, size kink, manhandling, strength kink, + more!

☆HYUNJIN☆

its amazing, the love inside, you take it with you - finally, a space of your own! a safe space for you to practice your spells without accidentally setting your mom's heirlooms on fire. a safe space for you to brew your potions without your mom complaining about the smell and how you're doing it wrong (you've figured). a safe space for you to chat with your cat companion, milo, without your mother rolling her eyes. a safe space... with an awkward, clumsy, GOSSIP of a soul with unfinished business!

includes: ghost!hyunjin x witch fem!reader, voyeurism, pervy hyunjin, subby hyunjin, femdom raahhh, overstimulation, dacryphila, +more!

☆HAN☆

you could be happy here, i could take care of you. i wouldn't let anybody hurt you. we could grow up together! - han thinks hes seeing things. he usually enjoys camping by himself, but when a bright light and a high pitched noise makes his head throb and his nose bleed, he genuinely thinks he could die. now he REALLY thinks hes seeing things because.. is that someone falling from the sky? after deciding to sleep on it, he meets you. and uh, oh yea. he's definitely seeing things!

includes: loser nerd!han x alien fem!reader, subby hanji, han jisung is a SIMP LOSER, bondage, use of some kind of aphrodisiac, choking, +more!

☆FELIX☆

absence makes the heart grow fonder…or forgetful - never being one to believe in fairytales, you were the only one in your village brave enough to explore the thick woods across the train tracks just south of your home. finally, a place where you can think in silence, with no one to disrupt your writing. when the creatures of the forest begin to make themselves known to you, you ignore all the signs telling you to run. especially when the so-called evil trickster fairy is the most beautiful boy you've seen in your life!

includes: faery!felix x fem!reader, kinda inexperienced felix, lowkey corruption kink (litrally if u squint), felix has wings (that r sensitive), overstim, +more!

☆SEUNGMIN☆

this is true love- do you think this happens everyday? - seungmin is too young for this, he thinks. the youngest prince to take the crown in centuries, and the war between his kingdom and the kingdom of the forest is intensifying. his people are going missing, and he has no idea what to do. it does not help that the king of the forest scares him shitless. he turns to you for help, the last witch of your line- you can thank his family for that!

includes: prince!seungmin x witch fem!reader, kinda enemies to lovers (the trope belongs to him i fear), hatefucking, biting, bondage, +more!

☆JEONGIN☆

we all go a little mad sometimes. haven't you? - you really should have filled up your gas tank. your car breaks down in the middle of nowhere, and the storm outside only further dampens your spirits. its dark and empty for miles, besides the little light that flickers on the side of the road. you brave the journey on foot, shivering, and soaking wet. your heart drops when you see the shelter, old and run down. thank god the young gentleman inside is kind enough to offer you a bed for the night!

includes: serial killer!jeongin x fem!reader, primal play, fear play, choking, knife play, jeongin is really rouch, +more!

☆INTERLUDES☆

got a horror concept for a fic? dont be shy and request! (submissions open until september 20)

wanna get tagged? (specify the kinktober special!)

[yourplayersaidwhat]

I mean, think about it. How many demons have we killed at this point? We go behind a goblin camp, there are demons. I get kidnapped by fairies, the fairies are controlled by demons. We go find a heretic wizard building illegal trains, and what's inside the train but a demon? [Sorcerer] left the toilet seat up last night. Guess what was in there this morning. There's probably a demon down my pants right now for all you'd know.

failing to reassure the Paladin that he's doing his job correctly

[breadbrioche]

fit for a princess

luke castellan x reader

➳summary: a quick fluffy thing because admin eagerly wishes summer can come sooner and is purposely ignoring the ending of the pjo series :D

➳warnings: not proof read, written during multiple fits of delusion, established relationship

➳word count: 1.1k

➳a/n: IM BACK!! Sorry to any who were expecting a TUC fic but the pjo has been my latest obsession so I had to write it

At Camp Half-Blood, the weather is always perfect but, somehow, its even better than most days. The sun is shining at its brightest yet the cool breeze blowing made it so that it wasn’t uncomfortably hot. As one of many campers taking advantage of the great weather, Luke leans his back against a tree with his eyes closed and enjoying the warmth and listening to the calm sounds of the nature around him.

He winces when a suddenly shadow obstructs the light and peaks his eyes open slightly to see what caused it. Though through blurry eyes as he blinks to adjust to the brightness, he spots your figure looming over him and a smile instantly forms on Luke’s face.

“Can I help you?” He drawls out teasingly. You pout playfully before seating yourself next to him, fingers easily tangling with his like routine.

“You should be thankful I’m even here! Seriously, it took forever to track you down.”

“It’s not like this place is a particularly hard place to find.” Luke argues back but you roll your eyes and lean your head on his shoulder.

“Yeah but I’d never thought you’d be here of all places” You point out as it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“What, can’t a guy just enjoy some peace and quiet?”

At that, you bark out a laugh, not believing him. “Not if you’re called Luke Castellan.” You chastise. “You’re always training as if you aren’t already the best swordsman in the camp”

“Did you come here to nag at me or do you have an actual reason?”

“Oh right!” You reach into your bag and place something atop Luke’s hair faster than he could see what it was. Immediately raising his hands to his head, he gingerly felt around blindly to see what it was. His fingertips brushes against something soft yet so thin he could tell it was delicate but also a more rough and rigid material.

As he carefully removes the item of his head to inspect it, Luke amusedly huffs upon realising what it was.

“You made me a flower crown?” He asks as he admires your craftsmanship - various summer flowers were woven together intricately, intertwining to create a colourful circlet. Leaves were bent precisely to frame each flower, some of which Luke could recognise being sunflowers and marigolds.

“I saw some Demeter kids making them and I wanted to try too.” You explained. “Do you like it? I know it’s not perfect but I think I did a pretty good job with it!”

“I love it.” He confirmed and using his free arm to pull you in for a hug to show his gratitude. “It’s almost as pretty as the person who made it.”

Groaning at his cheesy line, you lightly shoved him off you before taking the crown back into your hands to nestle it on top of his dark curls once again.

“Well I think you look way prettier than I ever could; it really suits you, y’know” you tease with a sly grin. “You’re giving serious fairy princess vibes”

“Are you being for real?” He sighed, looking away embarrassed but making no move to remove the flower crown. You giggled at his actions, cooing as you poked his reddening cheeks. Luke catches your offending wrist before using it to pull you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you and nestling his face into your neck.

“I thought I was supposed to be a hero” he complains against your skin.

As you wrap your arms around his neck, you huff endearingly, feeling how warm his face is.

“Ayy now don’t sell yourself short; you can still be a hero while being a fairy princess. I’m sure there’s a myth about that.”

“I don’t think there is, love” Luke retorts which makes you scrunch your face disappointedly. Though, you don’t dwell on it for long as you gently grab his face and remove it from the crook of your neck. Luke’s face morphs into a confused expression, eyebrows furrowed and dark eyes assessing you to find the meaning behind your antics, but you paid him no mind as you grinned happily.

You don’t understand how the boy before you doesn’t know how beautiful he is - and hell, you’d even say that Luke is way more attractive than any of the Aphrodite boys - especially in this current moment with how the sun made his eyes twinkle and his ruddy skin look like it was glowing.

But unfortunately, your thoughts are interrupted with the way Luke drums his fingers at your side, an unspoken request for an explanation. Stubbornly, you deny him the satisfaction in favour of admiring him more.

However, his drumming becomes more insistent then turns into pokes and before you know it, he’s attacking you relentlessly with tickles. This forces you to release your hold on Luke’s face to wrestle his hands off you. You shriek when he resists your attempts and puts his weight forward which pushes your back to the ground.

“Stop-!! Let go!!” You demand between fits of laughter while you writhe on the grass from the way your stomach cramps, you kick your feet and claw at his hands but Luke is, as always, relentless, finding how the whole situation has turned incredibly amusing.

“What…the fuck was that- “ you pant out when Luke eventually stops tickling you. As you heave, you glare up at Luke - the damn flower crown still perched on his head even after all that - who has a shit eating grin on his face.

“Maybe you aren’t a fairy princess hero after all.” You say accusingly. Luke raises an eyebrow inquisitively before rolling onto the ground next to you, his shoulders bumping into yours in the process.

“What am I then?”

“Probably a monster. A mean,ugly monster who disguised himself as an insufferably pretty boy who’s sole mission is to make my life a living hell.”

After you air out your complaints, it's his turn to laugh; the deep sound almost makes it hard for you to keep scowling at him.

“It still beats being a fairy princess hero, for sure! That job sounds right up my alley.” Luke exclaims, urging you to shove him with a roll of your eyes but he’s not at all unfazed. Rather, he shimmies closer to you so his mouth is at the same level as your ear.

“Y’know what being a ‘pretty monster who’s sole mission is to annoy you’ would mean right?” He asks you, and it’s like you can hear his smirk.

“What.” You reply, not bothering to correct his misquote.

“It means that I would get to be with you all the time.”

[loveindefinitely]

༊*·˚ FOREVER WINTER (IF YOU GO) ��� task force 141 x reader

09 — I'M HIGHER THAN THE HOPES THAT YOU BROUGHT DOWN

featuring. simon 'ghost' riley + johnny 'soap' mactavish + kyle 'gaz' garrick + john 'bravo six' price + (non-endgame phillip graves)

warnings. nsfw, fem!reader, fmmmm, enemies to lovers, slow burn, polyamory, ghostsoap, pricegaz, alerudy, heavy angst, requited unrequited love, graphic violence

series masterlist. read on ao3. read on wattpad. fanfic playlist.

<- previous part | next part ->

When you had taken down the organisation by Shepherd’s side, it was the beginning of everything.

The first time you had drawn someone else’s blood was with a rifle in your hand and a vengeance burning in your veins. A single order from your General – your only support – to kill anyone with the organisation’s uniform. Anyone who raised a scope to you.

It’s difficult, usually, to remember what had happened. 

Sometimes, in your deepest of sleeps, the nightmares of your past came to haunt you. Flashes of blood on your skin, corpses underneath your feet, the crackle of a radio sounding in an empty room.

A congratulations from your General.

Congratulations for seeking revenge, and executing it like a soldier well-trained. Another cog in the military’s rusting machine. A weapon for them, more than a human with free will and determination.

You’d thrown up, after it all.

Heaving, sweating, crying, the endless guilt of what you’d just done. Were you no better than them? Sure, they’d killed your mother, but you had just carried out the same in turn. Tenfold. They had families that they’d never report back to. Families that they’d never get to say goodbye to. Dinner left untouched.

Shepherd had pat your back – then, he’d been in service, active duty. You hadn’t known it, but taking down the organisation was his last mission.

You never even learnt the name of the organisation. Shepherd had said that it was better that way, to detach yourself, not get yourself muddled with the logistics of it all. You weren’t meant for that. You were meant for weaponry and death and destruction.

That night, when you laid awake in the small camp set-up just a few klicks out from the organisation's site, you determined that you wouldn’t take another’s life without certainty. Unless it was for defence.

That night, you’d known that you would ask to be trained for field medicine.

Oh, how naive you had been. Young, aching for a chance to get revenge, to get what you felt you deserved.

Ten days later, you met one Phillip Graves.

A day after that, he offered you a place within the beginning of his mercenary company.

Half an hour after you signed the contract, General Shepherd announced that he was no longer suitable for active duty.

How naive indeed.

*

You think, in the very back of your mind, with the smallest grip you have on thought, that you’ve been carried to safety by men more than you have in your life, these past few days.

In and out, your mind wavers, senses completely gone, consciousness an impossible thing.

Minutes, hours, days. You’re not sure. How does time even work? What is time? Are you alive? Is this death? Another third, universally unknown state, an in between?

These past few days, the utter mess your life has become, has it finally worn you out? Destroyed you from the inside, shrapnel embedded into your flesh? A direct hit, a ticking time bomb gone wrong? A suicide mission with no preparation, no warning, no hope?

If you could, you’d cry.

Let tears fall down your cheeks, crystalline and pure against your dirtied and sinful skin. A mocking of all things good and right and beautiful.

Oh to be beautiful. To be right. To be good.

Heaven would taste like fairy floss melting against your tongue, you think. Sweet and pink and soft. It would furl around your tongue, season your mouth with the feeling of cotton and freedom.

White.

White blinds every inch of your body, the darkness of your eyelids lit with the shade. Chemicals fill the air, a stagnant, all too damning smell. Beeping, too, a constant background noise as you slowly come to.

Hospital – or, at the very least, a Med Bay. It’s something quite familiar, but the feeling of being a patient in one is a very rare instance for you.

That feeling of blood, sticky against your face and arm, has gone. Instead, the itch of fabric and bandage replaces it, an IV drip attached to your inner arm an annoying sting. Your hair feels as if it’s been carefully spread over the pillow underneath your head, a blanket wrapped over your form.

If your spatial awareness is at all correct, you think you can sense a few other people in the room, too. Soft murmuring chimes in over the beeping, now, as you return to full consciousness.

“Can’t believe all three of ‘em are down.”

Gaz – that honey-esque, smooth voice instantly has you recognising the Sergeant. From where his voice is coming from, he seems to be sat beside your bed. 

“It’s not your fault, Kyle.”

Price. Captain. He sounds… softer than you’ve ever heard him. Lost, maybe, upset. Disappointed? It’s hard to place, his tone, but it seems almost forlorn.

“Had a whole fuckin’ team of Marines and we couldn’t make it to ‘im in time. If it wasn’t for her–”

“I know, Sergeant,” Price snaps, shutting down the younger man’s nervous, distressed rambling. A scrape of a chair sounds, the sound of pacing footfalls a moment later. “There wasn’t anything we could do – and it’s not like any of ‘em are dying, now are they?”

“Don’t act like this didn’t affect you either, Captain,” Gaz bites back in return, his chair, too, scraping against the linoleum floor. “I heard your yell clear as day.”

“I can and will write you up for insubordination, Garrick,” Price warns, stern and cold.

Gaz’s responding laugh is biting, grating. “No, you won’t, Price. Because if you do that, you’ll have to report the others too. You really wanna risk losing us all?”

“Don’t test me.”

“Thought you liked that about me, Cap.”

“Kyle –”

“Good morning to you, too.”

Both men turn, then, to look at you with wide eyes. With a small groan, you move to sit up, eyes burning with the sudden overhead lights. Your shoulder aches, your cheek, too, but not as badly as they had before.

“Be careful, don’t –” Gaz goes to say, moving towards you, before you show him your palm.

“I’m fine. I know my limits, Gaz,” you say, a small reprimand as you shift into a comfortable position. “I’ll be out of this bed within the hour if I can help it.”

“You dislocated your shoulder,” Price says, insistent, brows furrowed as he looks down at you, arms folded over his chest. “It’s in a wrap. You’re lucky, Colonel, that they could perform the surgery here.”

Your brows raise.

“Surgery? How long was I out?” You frantically ask, sitting up straighter, wincing when you bump your shoulder. Your mind races with theories, fear trickling down your spine like a cold vice. There was so much you had to do – had to investigate, now.

“Only about a day. You were under anaesthesia – and your body near shut down,” Gaz leans forward as he sits, elbows on his knees. “You were awake, under high-intensity stress, for nearly four days.”

Four days? Had it really been that long? What had only felt like a day – it had been four?

You must show your inner panic on your face, because Price takes a step closer, hand moving to rest comfortably on your shoulder. He has a calming, understanding tilt to his lips that you appreciate. His eyes examine your body, before his blue eyes meet yours.

“Graves is already planning his next movement,” he says, gruff and true. His hand squeezes. “We were playing checkers, seems like he wants to play chess.”

The beep of the machines sat beside your bed and the overall feeling of hospital and gauze and injury has you realising something. A flash in the back of your mind, a bell ringing for you like a dog on a leash.

“Where’s Soap and Ghost?”

Price and Gaz share a look, before Gaz flits a nervous grimace to you. “Ghost… refused to be treated unless he was put in the same room as Soap. Soap, is, well…”

“Get yer bloody hands off me, aye am fine, let me see ‘er–”

Soap’s voice carries down the hallway, the standard-issues curtains surrounding your small area doing nothing to block the sound. Your eyebrows shoot to your hairline, Gaz buries his face in his hands, and Price heaves a long-suffering sigh, muttering something under his breath about decorum.

“Sergeant, the doctor’s –”

“Tell Sarah tha’ aye can bloody well handle maself!”

A crashing noise follows the last statement, along with the sound of confused yelling, before the curtain surrounding you gets ripped open by none other than Soap MacTavish.

His grown-out faux-mohawk is messy, obviously having been laid on for a fair bit, his eyes wide and chest pounding in sweeping movements. Fist clenched in the scratchy fabric of the curtain, his frantic eyes focus on Price and Gaz, respectively, before landing on you. His shoulders loosen, and he lets go of the curtain as he trails down your form, analysing for any injuries or a single hair out of place.

“Sweetheart,” he breathes, sounding all too like that single nickname is a lifeline, “Yer alright.”

You softly shake your head, disbelieving and confused and shocked and. 

And maybe slightly grateful. Lucky, even, to have someone care for you enough to act like your very presence is their saviour. Like your blood is as worthy as their own, your lungs virtually theirs, too.

“I’m not the one that nearly fell to my death,” you exasperate, voice as soft and vulnerable as you’ve heard it. At the very least, the most open you’ve sounded since your mother was around. “Did you just kill one of the nurses to get here?”

Soap’s creeping smile turns into a full, toothy grin as he shakes his head. “Nah. That’d be Lt.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” Price mutters from beside you, along with Gaz’s choked off laugh. You can’t help your own private smirk.

“And here I was, thinking you were the dog, Soap,” you tease, except for the first time, it isn’t with the intention of goading. Of poking the beast. You’re… teasing just for fun. Because it feels natural and right and.

Oh.

Oh.

Soap scoffs. “Aye, ye did say that, didn’t ya? Ye haven’t seen a guard dog like Mr. Lt, lass,” He taunts, freckles dusting his nose, the hospital lights doing nothing to wash his tan skin out.

He says, as if your world hasn’t been flipped over, shaken about, and sat down on your shoulders like a snowglobe.

He says, as if everything is fine and normal and not cataclysmic.

“The nurse is fine.” 

Everyone, including Price, jolts where they are situated, eyes darting to where Ghost leans against the wall opposite your bed, picking at his nails.

He’s.

Unlike the balaclava, of which is all you’ve known of the bulky man, the only thing covering his features is a standard black medical mask, covering his mouth and nose. No ink stains the upper half of his face, either, and for the first time – you see his hair.

Dirty blond.

It oddly suits him, the shortly cut mess, the strands hanging over his forehead and ears. What strikes you is the lack of scars from the skin you can see, the unmarred skin, the softness of it. 

He’s pretty, in a rugged, unabashed way, and what a realisation that is.

With just a black compression shirt, sleeves cut to the mid-section of his upper arms, sleeves of talented ink cover his pale skin. A snake, intricately designed, covers his left, curving around the muscle. On his right, what looks to be a Greek god, its depth shadowed with blacks and greys.

“Good to see you in one piece, too, Lieutenant,” you say, and if it was at all possible, you’d swear that sparks shoot up your spine when his deep brown eyes catch onto yours. 

He raises an uncovered brow – pale and soft. “I meant what I said,” he threatens, a glint in his eye.

So, you suppose, not all has been forgiven. Your memories are shaky at best, but a few words stand out from your confrontation – kill, belonging, rank. A promise of death, but a vow of protection, too.

“What’re you talking about?” Gaz asks, looking between the two of you with a confused expression.

Neither you, nor Ghost, break eye contact as you simultaneously say; “Nothing, Gaz.”

Both Sergeants share a look, a cheeky one, the type that no one else in the room can decipher. You had seen the way that the two shared comments, winks, hits up the back of their heads. Joking and full of life, but with an unbreakable bond between them.

Yearning was becoming too familiar of a concept for you, you were finding.

“Laswell found a hit on some intel,” Price breaks the tension of the room, hands bracing on his knees as he looks to the four of you. A grim expression settles on his face when he looks to you. “It’s in the home of one of your Lieutenants.”

Your heart stutters in your chest as you swallow around a dry mouth. “What kind of intel?”

Everyone seems to collectively move in closer – Ghost’s hand rests at his belt, Soap’s at his back pocket, Gaz’s on the chain adorning his neck, a guitar pick attached to the gold.

“Intel on an ‘organisation’,” Price says. “A group of people wanting to overtake the military, one with a rising number of members.”

It’s as if you can feel nothing but the beat of your heart, the sensation of your fingers, the pain in your chest. The organisation. They were. You and Shepherd, you hadn’t eradicated them. Maybe stumped their growth, for a while, but you hadn’t.

You hadn’t realised they were still around. Growing, even, thriving.

The urge to just cry, pour out your emotions and weep is the strongest it’s been since your mother’s funeral. To just pull up the covers over your head and let tears fall down your cheeks, mourn in your misery, scream and claw at your skin and feel.

If only you could be that woman. Just for a day.

Instead, you reply.

“When are we going?”

Soap is, both surprisingly and unsurprisingly, the first one to speak up. His hands land on his hips as he studies you with a narrowed gaze. “Ye need to rest, lass. Yer broken.”

You throw your unwrapped hand in the air, waving in their general direction. “Have you guys seen yourselves? How the fuck you’re out of your gowns is almost crazier than you storming into here gunsablazing!”

“We didn’t get a concussion, a wound on our cheek, a dislocated bloody shoulder,” Ghost challenges, and your hackles rise in turn. When he gives, you return. The moon and the sun – the two of you, always taunting the other with a bone just to see if the other will bite.

“I saved your ass,” you seethe back, and with only a small wince, you pull the IV drip from your arm. If Price or Gaz debate that move, you ignore it. “And his. I don’t seem to recall hearing a single thank you, either.” You rise on shaky legs, pushing through the ache, pushing through the thunderstorm in your chest. You turn to Soap, “So don’t tell me what I can and can’t do,” you turn to Ghost, “And you don’t tell me what injuries deem me weaker! I’ve survived this long without the lot of you, and you don’t need to start babying me now.”

The silence in the room should dispel your nerves, but it only serves to increase them tenfold.

“We’ll scope out the area and decide what to do after. Five days ‘til we perform an undercover mission, I suspect.”

With a small tilt of your head, you look to Price, who rubs at his jaw, scratching at the hair lining it. He looks deep in thought – ever the calculating leader.

You sigh, quiet enough to not be heard. “Thank you, Captain.”

The wrapping around your set shoulder seems recently done, and when you move the ligament in small circles, the pain is nothing more than a dull ache. Your cheek, too, has been bandaged, but the sting is nothing if not prevalent.

Someone had spent the time putting socks on your feet, so you’re grateful for the small mercy as you move to the side table and swallow down mouthfuls of water from the plastic bottle placed there.

A thought comes to mind then.

“Where do I sleep? Or should I, um…” You trail off, because the idea of finding a shoddy motel in the middle of nowhere is definitely not a pleasant one.

Silence.

Slowly turning around, bottle in hand, your brows furrow when you see that none of them are meeting your eyes. Even Ghost, which is most definitely a first.

“Are you banishing me? Worried I have cooties?” You tease, bouncing on the soles of your feet. When no one responds again, you truly start to worry. “That was a joke,” you confirm, as if they didn’t know that.

“There’s no spare rooms,” Gaz blurts out, and your eyes go wide.

Of all the things that had briefly crossed your mind, a lack of space was most certainly not one of them. The consequences of that fact is the next thing to be brought to the forefront of your muddled ideas.

“Right,” Soap nods, as if this is a newly found concept. He gestures to Gaz, a smile creeping onto his face. “Thanks for offering to let ‘er crash with ya, lad.”

“I didn’t say that –” Gaz starts, expression slowly creeping into one of exasperation as Price interrupts with a slap to the Sergeant’s shoulder.

“Real generous, Garrick,” Price commends, moving to stand from his chair and leave the room. Ghost follows closely behind him, shooting a look between you and Kyle, simply saying, “Thanks, Sergeant.”

“You’ve got to be joking,” Gaz groans, head falling against the chair backing as he slides down the wood. Soap is quick to bound away from the room, too, with a cheerful, ‘See you tomorrow!’.

Gaz, eyes squeezed shut, seeming to try and melt into the floor, flutters one eye open to look at you where you stand. He grimaces, before slowly getting to his feet, too.

“Sorry for,” you bite at your lip, looking everywhere but at the man who seems to want to die more than host you, “Being a nuisance. Really, I’m fine sleeping at a motel, or whatever. Seriously.”

His hand grasps your chin, moving it so you’re forced to look up at him, his analysing gaze searching your own. The brown of his eyes glisten in the bright light, his features shining with it, and you’re hit with an overwhelming want to be cherished by this man. 

How bad had your concussion really been, to be making you think this way? You should really talk to Sarah about it, ask what kind of side effects came with one.

Oddly enough, you don’t think that this realisation is as sudden as you’re forcing yourself to believe.

“I didn’t,” Gaz begins, quickly looking away and setting his jaw before meeting your eyes once more, “I didn’t mean it like that. Just. Embarrassing, y’know?”

“How? Got a secret collection of pornos you don’t want me finding?” You quip back, a soft tilt to your lips.

He chuckles, a soft, girthy thing, shaking his head. “Nah. Nothin’ like that. Just… havin’ a girl in my room on such short notice is a bit scary. Gonna kill them all when I see ‘em tomorrow,” he mutters the last few words under his breath.

“I really am sorry,” you promise, “I didn’t realise that I’d have to impose on you like this.”

“You’re not imposing,” Gaz says, stern, thumb brushing along your jawline. “My bed should be big enough, anyways.”

Your cheeks heat at the implication, mouth opening and closing around nothing. “Your – Your bed? I can just sleep on the floor –”

“No,” he interrupts, shaking your head side to side softly. “If anything, I’ll crash on the floor if you’re uncomfortable. I won’t let you sleep on anything but my bed.”

“Such a gentleman,” you lean in, whispering the words over his lips, a smirk forming on your face as you pull back. Heading for the door, you miss the way his fingers raise to hover over his mouth, gaze flitting to you before he follows behind.

“Do I need to see Sarah? The only reason I was really in there was ‘cause I was passed out, right?” You ask, turning around as Gaz meets you, opening the door for you to walk through. His hand falls to the small of your back as he directs you down the hallways.

He shakes his head. “Nah, Price messaged ‘er. If your pain starts up again, just take some pain meds or see her.”

“I like the way you run things here,” you hum, looking around at the concrete walls and linoleum floors, barren of personality. “No wasting time or resources.”

A draft carries down the hall, and you find yourself rubbing your arm, biting at your lower lip from the cold. Gaz’s hand wraps around your waist, pulling you into his body heat subtly, and you’re silently grateful. “I’ll give you some of my spare clothes to sleep in,” he says, thumb rubbing against where his hand sits in tight circles.

Your stomach growls, then, and you can hardly find the energy to be embarrassed when you haven’t eaten in four days. Yikes.

“Sorry –”

“I made you. Um.” Gaz looks away, bringing up his other hand to rub at the nape of his neck nervously. “I made you some wraps to eat, because the guys love ‘em, and Price kept getting pulled into meetings. So.”

The smile that pulls at your cheeks burns as you softly say, “Thank you.”

His grip around your waist tightens, the smallest amount.

You don’t comment.

“While you change, I’ll go get them from the fridge,” he says, as the two of you pause outside a standard door. The barracks look the same as every other corridor in this base, you’ve found, three other doors sitting close to this one. The 141’s rooms.

Unlocking the door, he switches on the light, and as you step in, you look around at the small room.

A double bed, narrow but long, sits in the corner next to a small window. Next to it, a wooden bedside table, with photos atop it, and a few random medals and gum wrappers. A single poster is stuck to the wall – and as soon as you see it, a laugh bubbles up in your chest.

“What?” Gaz asks, looking through his chest of drawers, looking to you with flushed cheeks. “It isn’t that bad.”

Your laughs continue, racking your body with each inhale as you point to the poster, eyes watery as you look at the man. “Didn’t realise you were into the Spice Girls, Garrick.”

He shoves his clothes into your face, only making you double over with laughter. 

“It was from my mum,” he grumbles, and you grab for his cheeks, squeezing them as your eyes near-shut with the manic laughter bubbling from you.

“Mama’s boy,” you tease, pulling at his cheeks until he’s face level. He huffs, pushing you away with a hand to your jaw, making more giggles erupt from your chest. “It’s cute, Gaz, I’m not being mean, pinky promise.”

“I’m getting the wraps, you twat,” he tries to sound accusatory, but his dimples deepen in his cheeks, his mouth pulling into a stubborn smile as he shoves you onto the bed, slamming the door shut behind him as he goes.

The fondness in your chest aches, and as you pull on his clothes, taking off the medical robe, you realise something. A niggling, in the back of your mind, one you can’t seem to shake as you tie off the oversized grey sweatpants around your waist.

A singular realisation, but a damning one, nonetheless.

Your smile doesn’t fade.

taglist. @lilpothoscuttings @jng-yuan @iruzias @insatiablekittie @1wh4re1nova @kaoyamamegami @supernaturalstilinski @inthemiddle0feverywhere @msecho19 @nogood-boyo @alfa-jor @lalashhyl @letmeapologise @honeybeeznutz @1mawh0re @oreo-cream @lalashhyl @someonepleasedateme @letmeapologise @uhhellnogetoffpleasenowty @inarabee @simp-sentral @littlecellist @clear-your-mind-and-dream @browtfyoudoing @oreo-cream @fanngirl19

[apollocabinrep]

PJO PRIDE HEADCANONS (FEATURING CAMP HALF-BLOOD) Pt1?

The Apollo cabin is by far the one filled with the most lgbtqia+ members. They hold late night gossip sessions and will tease each other /relentlessly/.

Followup for above; Austin, from canonical characters, as the resident aroace sibling has the most blackmail on his siblings because of these sessions.

Camp Half-Blood has always been a safe place for lgbtia+ demigods no matter what time period (the gods have had lovers of both genders since ancient times + Chiron training Achilles & Patroclus). Members of the community were often year-rounders for this reason, because even if they died young they could be their authentic selves.

Drew Tanaka is on the aroace spectrum and when she was younger thought there was something wrong with her due to not falling in love like her siblings. Silena Beauregard is the one that helped her through it.

Annabeth has to be careful in the state of Florida because a camera caught her beating up a homophobe. (Yes, it was a mortal. She had gone with Malcolm as support for him to come out of the closet to his mortal dad and step-mom.)

Every year before Manhattan, Jake (Mason) and Michael (Yew) would risk getting eaten by harpies to stargaze on top of the Apollo cabin roof. After the Battle, Travis and/or Connor would help Jake get up there and let him stargaze for the night. Mysteriously, the harpies avoided the area as if they had orders to leave it alone.

Cecil is the biggest ally in camp, so much so that he says things no straight man would ever dare.

Cecil: "I'd kiss a guy to show my support."

Lou: "That's not how it works. Also, you're dating me!"

Cecil: "Yeah, but allyship Lou Ellen. Don't be homophobic during pride month."

Lou: "I'm literally pan!"

The Hermes cabin has a list with everyone's flags and are like pride flag fairies.

Clarisse was the first person Will came out to as bisexual. She found him crying by the lake because he didn't think he would be accepted. They got to talking and she told him she was bi as well. "Take a look around, Solace. Times are changing and we can like who we like. Hades, look at your own cabin. You guys may have a single straight ally in there, because the rest of y'all sure arent straight."

Katie and Miranda help everyone decorate with flowers and put bouquets together.

Mitchell and Valentina have a betting pool on which couples are going to 'do the most'.

Nico's first pride month is definitely interesting. He had no idea that the camp would be so accepting or that there would be so many others like/similar to himself. (He spent most of it in a state of shock and talked Jason's ear off over Iris message.)

[ft-platonicweek]

Platonic Week 2024

Thank you to everyone who showed interest in the debut of the platonic week event! The event will be June 24-30, and all forms of submissions are welcome: art, fanfic, video edits, mood boards, etc. Please see the rules for more information.

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Prompts

Each day features multiple prompts, but only one prompt is necessary to fulfill the day. Or choose multiple! Combining days and prompts is welcome as well. Participate as much or little as you like.

—Monday (6/24): "Game on!" | Competition | Training —Tuesday (6/25): "Idiot." | Potluck | Shenanigans —Wednesday (6/26): "What is that?" | Road Trip | Camping —Thursday (6/27): "Can I sleep on your couch tonight?" | Storm | Silence —Friday (6/28): "Nobody hurts my friends!" | Scars | Injury —Saturday (6/29): "Unison Raid!" | Teasing | Matching —Sunday (6/30): "You can count on me." | Tears | Protection

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Rules / Event Information

—Submissions: Platonic week is to celebrate all types of platonic relationships, so as such, the focus of the work must be platonic in nature, be it friends, family, queerplatonic relationships, found family, etc. Any romantic relationships must be relegated to the background only and not be integral to the work. Other than that, anything goes! Submissions may be any media type you can fathom, so long as the entry is original and not previously posted in any manner. (i.e. chapters of previously posted stories will not be accepted, but newly posted installments of a series is fair game.) Works can be canon compliant or AUs or anything in-between; OCs can be included, but for the sake of the spirit of fandom events, at least one canon character must be present/focused on. Late submissions are welcome too! While it is a dated event, there is no time limit.

—Posting: Please mention ( @ft-platonicweek ) the blog to help ensure the post is visible and it will be reblogged. Include the tag #ft platonic week 2024 within the first five tags as well. If there are any necessary content warnings or mature content, please tag those accordingly.

—AO3 Collection: Fairy Tail Platonic Week 2024

—Generic Rules: Please, keep it friendly between submitters, and no blatant character bashing. No ships should be the focus, and no ships involving incest or adult/child romances should be included at all.

If there are any questions, please feel free to send an ask!

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banner art by @pencilofawesomeness

@ftguildevents

[utterlyazriel]

whom the shadows sing for — (and the thief's echoing hymn)

a/n: WE MADE IT TO CHAPTER FIVE!! EVERYBODY CLAP!! labour of love fr <3 but we're almost to the scene that sparked the whole freakin series and i. oh man im just yearning for that hurt/comfort

word count: 4.4k

synopsis: You test out if your efforts with the tonics are worth anything and Azriel bestows you with a gift. He asks about the Blood Rite and you ponder the strange, golden thread you've been feeling in your chest. Disaster strikes when night falls.

CHAPTER FIVE :: CONFIDANTS

You look younger in your sleep, Azriel thinks.

He doesn't think he's ever seen you like this before. The hard lines of your face are all smoothed out as you rest, so unlike your usual expression. There's something softer about you.

The constant furrow between your brows is whisked away for once. He can still see the familiar line between your brows though, if he looks close enough.

If he can look past the bruises that mottle your face, that is.

The damage you've sustained from training within the camp is severe enough to curdle something sour in his stomach.

Azriel had held his reservations about his trip back to Velaris— a suspicion that proved to be well founded. His own memories of training at Windhaven provide plentiful ways for you to have ended up in this state.

You’re curled up instinctively in your sleep, wings tucked around yourself. It sews of thread of worry through Azriel's chest, a slight concern at the state of your wounds and how the position will agitate them. While you don't move much in your sleep, he knows from experience that it'll be hell when you finally do stretch back out.

But... he can’t bring himself to wake you. You need the sleep desperately.

Azriel is fairly certain that the huddled form you take is some subconscious way to protect yourself, even in your sleep. Your wings drape across yourself, keeping yourself covered, hidden.

And while that makes some part of Azriel's heart ache, he can't deny that you—it looks… sort of cute.

Azriel forces himself to avert his eyes, ducking his chin for extra measure. Those pesky thoughts were becoming more and more frequent — something that he's pointedly ignoring at this point.

Protect, his shadows whirl around his ears like tiny gusts of wind, whispering their suggestions. Protect, they whisper.

Protect. Both a thought and a feeling. A guiding intuition that seems to reverberate from his very bones.

The suggestion from his shadows isn't entirely left field either, as they always take inspiration from what he can see. From his wandering thoughts, from his prolonged gentle gaze that lays upon you whenever he can.

Azriel scowls lightly at himself. He had no claim to protect you and further more, most Illyrian males like yourself would take great amounts of offence to the mere insinuation. He knows that you are more than capable.

He steals another glance at your peaceful, sleeping figure and his shadows seem to quieten in response— at least about you. The whispers don't ever truly quieten.

Azriel's fairy certain where they're getting their ideas. It's what he wonders too as he takes in your battered face once more—whether it’s the truth or just his familiar brand of desperate hope.

Something that would explain the urge to protect beyond reason.

Something like... a bond forged in starlight.

The Mother's Kiss whistles quietly outside and Azriel shifts his gaze again and this time, it lays upon the Heartstriker.

Sitting atop the one table-top in your shelter, the blade stays sheathed away in the very same bejeweled case that Azriel had found it in. Same as on that very first day he laid his hands on it.

It had been a wretched mission. One of his very first. It was not performed with the eloquence he would come to learn in future years.

Heartstriker had not been the objective of the mission. Far from it, in truth. The objective was a simple stealth reconnaissance into the Court of Nightmares.

He was to delve beneath the rock of the mountain in a mission very similar to his current. Swirlings of rumours and whispers of rebellion, against the new Highlord. Azriel was there to learn who had the guts to pick up the knife and try.

Heartstriker was a ploy. A shiny trick that Azriel had not yet learned how to evade.

He was still a novice by his own standards, only a few hundred years old. Spying in this sense was still fresh, still new. The work he had done under Rhysand's father during the war had been far more reliant on his brute strength. He had strict instructions not to hesitate to draw his blade.

It had taken time to relearn the importance in a message sent with words.

To remember the power of mercy.

This mission had been the first and only time Azriel had underestimated the measures in place in the Court of Nightmares, meant to keep out the likes of him.

His hesitance to kill had given another Fae time to trip an alarm, to flood the room with warriors. So when he had been backed into a corner by the snarling miscreants that lived in the belly of the mountain, taken by surprise, he hadn't hesitated to snatch up any weapon he could reach.

And it had branded him, singeing him right to his core.

But when he tried to force his fingers apart, they wouldn't obey, even as they screamed with the pain of the invisible flames. It was as though his hand had become fused with the blade, each atom of his being completely joined with the bronze of the sword through a terrible, unstoppable and invisible force.

Every part of him shrieked in agony. An age-old fear reared up within him, his hands burning like they were set alight and he could feel the flames licking at his skin, at his hands, could smell the scent of burning flesh—

He had fought on and won, all the same, taking on two battles at once. Fighting foes by real and faux, all whilst burning up from within all the while. The sword was immeasurably heavy and yet too light, all at once.

And only once almost all his enemies were slain, their blood staining the marble floors, did the burning cease. The blade seem to hum in response to the battle— drawn to the final foe who was clawing for his breath through his blood-soaked throat.

The tip of the sword had urged Azriel forward, like pulled by an invisible string, and he let it lead him, plunging the blade through the chest and into the heart of the last enemy left.

Only after, had the humming stopped. The sword finally clattered from Azriel's strong grip, the fusion broken.

His hands were same as ever, mottled with their scars, but with no indication of the burning he knew he had felt.

On his return, Rhys had told him the history of the sword and it's duly fitting name: Heartstriker.

It hadn't been claimed in centuries and as such, naturally it had come to live amongst other cursed objects within the Court of Nightmares. Unable to be used, unless someone bested the pain it took to raise it.

But Azriel had, entirely by accident.

It is said that once mastered, it will always strike true. Rhys had said, violet eyes gleaming as he looked over the bronze sword with piqued interest. That it's more than a regular sword but a living thing you must work in tandem with.

If anyone tries to take it from you, they must suffer the same fate. It can be gifted freely but, He had paused, that smirk that held no warmth in it pulling at his lips. I'm sure you can guess how often that happens down there.

It hadn't been used within the Night Court either, condemned to another hundred years or so without sight of battle. Azriel had more than enough blades of his own. The Illyrian broadsword that he had earned all that time ago in the Blood Rite for a proper battle and his Truth-Teller for the finer details.

Heartstriker wasn't right for his stature. Too short, strange weighted.

He'd kept it all the same. Perhaps, he told himself, to keep some other Fae from suffering the same fate if they laid hands on it.

His hazel eyes drift back across to you, bundled within yourself. You make a noise in your sleep, a gentle snuffle, and Azriel finds himself smiling.

Or perhaps, he thinks, he knew to keep it for entirely other reasons.

—

The quick healing of Illyrian's is more often a blessing than it is a curse.

On today's quiet winter morning, it is somehow both.

When you wake, dragged from your slumber in the early hours, it's before the sun has begun to make an appearance on the horizon. The shelter is coated in a soft darkness of dawn. The trees sway outside, a thousand creatures still roaming amongst their branches, reliant on the dark before daylight breaks.

It's the pain that wakes you, ebbing in through your sleep til it shakes off your sleep. You wake with your teeth already gritted.

The only pleasant surprise is that fact you're not shuddering yourself awake out of a nightmare, especially considering yesterday's training session.

You have a feeling that it has something to do with the sleeping Illyrian, propped up beside the fireplace, keeping watch.

His shadows still move about, even in his sleep. His neck is tucked down, his forehead pressed against his knee. It hides away part his face but as your eyes adjust to the shadowy light, you can make out his closed eyes. His hair looks messier than you've ever seen it.

It can't be comfortable, sleeping the way he is— but you have a feeling that Azriel has slept in places far worse before.

Shifting about in the darkness, your hand comes down to press tenderly at your sides, assessing as quietly as you can. There's no immediate sting of sliced skin as your fingers tips poke and prod at the skin, which makes you sigh in relief. You press down again, at bit harder this time, and it forces a wince out your gritted teeth.

Extremely bruised. But at the very least, the skin has knitted itself together in the nighttime.

Your face still aches, too. It's not quite the same ringing that made both eyes throb painfully yesterday and with a slow wrinkle of your nose, you can assess that the worst of your broken nose has healed up too.

Your ears, however, poses a different problem. One of them, the right side, still rings lightly. It would be more concerning, you think, if the left one itself wasn't so muffled altogether.

Huffing out a breath, you drag yourself up to a sitting position, moving at a tentative pace. Pain ricochets around your body. You're doing the best you can to be quiet but it's futile it seems — there's one creak of the bed as your weight shifts and Azriel's wings twitch, giving him away. He’s awake.

He lifts his head slowly, letting it roll from one side to the next, stretching out his neck. It's the only indication he gives you of feeling sore from his cramped sleep all night, his attentive eyes already watching you closely. His shadows, you notice, seem to gain speed at his rousing— circling his shoulders and neck closely.

You clear your throat and focus your gaze forward, resuming the task at hand. Raising one hand, you snap your fingers beside your left ear, then your right.

Frustration bubbles up inside you as you repeat the motion, as if it’ll change the outcome.

It doesn’t.

At least beyond the ringing, your right ear can hear the snap clearly— a keen Fae sense that like any warrior, you rely heavily on. The left one…

All you can think is that they must have hit you pretty damn hard to leave it as dulled as it feels. It can still hear, thankfully, but the noise that filters through is muffled around the edges. Buzzy. It makes you feel off kilter and unbalanced.

You let your hand drop and try to remain stoic, so used to hiding your emotions away from your face. You don't realise your drooping, limp wings give you away anyways.

Azriel gets to his feet swiftly, the movement so smooth you would have never guessed he spent the night tucked up uncomfortably against the bricks of your fireplace. He regards you with those burning amber eyes and your heart seems to lurch forward in response. You avert your gaze.

"It would seem we have an opportunity to test out our efforts." He says. His voice is still coated in sleep, low and rumbley, and it sends a bright zing down your spine. You lift your gaze from your lap and raise your brows in question.

He waves a hand to the table, in gesture.

Your various ingredients for brewing the tonics stay tucked in one corner, some wrapped up and set beneath the table. There are several different bottles too, stoppered with corks and containing yours and Azriel's attempts at the healing tonics.

It takes another moment to understand what he means.

"No," You say sharply, climbing to your feet. A thousand parts of your ache and groan in protest and you channel your focus into not letting a single ounce of it show.

Rolling your tense shoulders back, you wander towards your armor in slow steady steps. "Those aren't for me. I've healed enough in the night."

"I see." Azriel replies. "Is that why your left ear isn't working right?"

Gaze snapping back to him, you curse his ever-so observant nature. Maybe that's on you for trying to keep a secret from a Shadowsinger.

You are keeping a secret from a shadowsinger, something whispers in you.

A cold flush fills your body, numbing out every nerve for a single moment. The hairs on the back of your neck stand up. Your wings hike up, tuck in. It feels wrong.

For the first time in your life, it feels so so utterly wrong to be keeping this secret from someone. To be hiding who you truly are.

But Azriel... he was a stranger not too long ago, wasn't he? You're not sure if you can even call each other friends, even if you had begun to in your mind, without even realising.

You think back to last night, to when he could have easily lifted your shirt a few inches higher when trying to save your life and known.

Then you wonder if he did — and he hasn't said anything.

If he's waiting for you to trip up, to fess up, to explain to him why you've been lying to him from the moment you first met him.

Azriel seems to sense your internal battle, the same way he seems senses a thousand things from you as though he's known you his whole life. He clears his throat to get your attention. When you focus your vision back on him, you notice one of the bottles is in his scarred fingers.

"I will train you today," He says. "On the condition that you take it."

Your nose twitches. It's an ultimatum. He knows you want to train, to brush off yesterday and let the pain in your body fuel the determination of today but he won't let you do it so carelessly. Bastard.

Before you can blink, he tosses the bottle across to you. You react instinctively, cradling your hands to catch it quickly before you realise what you're doing. Your nose twitches again, a tiny flare of annoyance at his smugness.

No, not smugness. Surety. His expression, bordering on bored, tells you that he knows you don't have any other options— unless you want to climb back into bed and rot for the day.

You yank the cork off the bottle harshly. Then, just to show him how unpleased you are with this, you lob the cork at him with all your might. Your bruised side screams in response. Azriel snatches from the air easily, without so much as a blink.

He looks like he wants to smile but thinks the better of it, placing the cork gently onto the table. "I'll meet you outside." He eyes the uncorked bottle in your hand then back at you. "Drink it. Please."

—

The tonic, as you find out, is only mildly effective.

It's a gutting discovery. The mixture is nowhere near potent enough to fix the level of nerve damage that gets inflicted during clippings if it barely lightens the bruises on your side.

The mottled blue painted on your skin gives way to a light purple, the edges of them retracting to a tinged yellow. The skin glows hot as the tonic works as best as it can.

The taste of it is nearly as rancid as the failure feels.

You deal with it the only way you know how; chewing it up and spitting it back out as determination to do better. The drive to push yourself harder in training rears up, fiery and stubborn— harder than you logically know is any help to yourself.

What was already tedious and heinous training is made that much worse by your injuries.

You're moving sloppily today, offbeat. The dullness in your left ear helps to keep you off balance. Still, you manage to keep up with Azriel— not quite the one step ahead you're usually aiming for but, at the very least, you're still holding your own.

Your ribs ache and your heads throbs. The ringing in your right ear has disappeared with the help of the tonic, only to have started up in the left. A relief in one sense— it's good to be hearing more of anything. A fucking pain in another.

The only major upside, really, is the sword.

The Heartstriker, Azriel had called it

You had been half convinced it was a hallucination, the gift. Sure that it some desperate illusion born out of the delirium of the blood loss because, really, when was the last time you had ever gotten a gift?

When you'd limped your way out into the snow and saw it in his hands, you had blinked in disbelief.

But it's almost like Azriel had expected it, his scarred hands reaching out to gently curl around your wrist, murmuring its name as he had pressed it into your hand. It's yours, he had said.

He had let go of your wrist go immediately, stepping back but not far, still hovering close by. He let you have a moment to marvel at it before he urged you to follow to the usual neck of the woods you trained in. The sound of clashing steel had soon followed.

It's a perfect addition, you find.

The blade is like a mere extension of your own arm. It's light enough to carve through the air with ease but when you strike, it's buries deep. Compared the Illyrian broadsword used in training at camp, it suits your stature far better. You move more agilely, hit more frequently and harder when you do.

It's probably the best thing you've ever owned— ever held.

You're gazing at it where it rests on your lap, glinting in the light of the day, as you try to catch your breath. Azriel had given you a moment to recover, far earlier than normal, due to your injuries, no doubt. Normally, you'd grumble and snarl and push him to continue but today, you're quite happy to have another moment to stare at the first gift you've gotten.

Azriel breaks the silence with a question.

"Why haven't you competed in the Blood Rite?"

Something icy spikes in your blood and your back straightens instinctively, the hair on the nape of your neck standing on end. Whether he knows it or not, he is treading close to dangerous territory.

"Why do you ask?" You answer his question with another question.

Azriel regards you with a certain look, his dark eyes dragging down your body intensely and back up to your face. It's enough to make you fluster momentarily, to feel a faint stirring in your heart that doesn't entirely feel like your own. No one has ever looked at you like that before.

"You're strong. You hold your own. You're of age." He states carefully. "You remain attached to this camp with no rank until you pass it. Why not?"

You scowl at his frame of thinking, as if you haven't passed over those reasons a thousand times. Beyond the fact you can't ever ensure you wouldn't be burdened with your cycle during the Blood Rite, there's more than enough reason for you to remain a nobody.

You feel oddly disappointed that he would think only in that manner; glory and rank.

"What makes you think I want any rank in my camp?" You spit bitingly, watching as his wings sink down an inch at your tone. His misunderstanding of why you've chosen this way of life bothers you more than you expect.

"Because you did?" You ask. "Because three bastards fought their way through it and won and left their shitty pasts behind? I am not you, Azriel."

Azriel doesn't react, not even the raising of his brows. Only his shadows give himself away, whirling around slower than usual. He speaks in that same careful tone as before.

"I know you are not."

He makes you feel foolish for giving in to any lick of your anger, for so quickly snapping at your only friend. You turn your head away and stare down into the snow, taking a breath. Cauldron, you're tired. Lifting you arm, you wipe your forehead with the back of your hand, clearing the sweat that beads there.

"I could leave but for what reason? Ever since I—" You suck a sharp inhale, swallowing back words that dance too close to giving you away. You pray he doesn't notice your hesitation. "Ever since I was young, this has been my goal. This change must come from within, you know that."

You inhale again, feeling the breath rattle past every ache and pain in your chest.

"I can only do the things I do... the things I must achieve, by being unnoticeable."

You cast a glance up to him. "To them, I am some bastard who won't give up and die. I am not a proper threat. You, of all people, should understand that it's easiest to work when people are not paying proper attention."

And that's all you have known — how to become unnoticeable when needed and how to be noticed when wanted. Attention, you've learned, only means a target on your back.

Beyond that... you can't imagine someone who would want to notice you for anything more. You've had many, many years to make peace with that bitter fact.

I am.

Without warning, there's a sudden thrum from deep within you, like a echo of a drum, of a call. It's golden and threaded with softness. I am paying attention.

It startles you, one hand flying to your armored chest in surprise. As quick as it had appeared, the hum flees and leaves your bound chest twingeing only in its usual discomfort. One moment of brief serenity. You long for it, despite the unfamiliar nature.

You realise abruptly that you've trailed off and force yourself to move, body aching in the process. Heartstriker sinks into the snow and you use it to clamber to your feet, not nearly as graceful as you would like. Azriel doesn't say anything.

In fact, when you lift your gaze to meet his, he's staring at you more intensely than usual. His shadows seem more agitated. They flit about, circling his hands more than his shoulders, and you can barely see the scarred skin through their inky darkness.

There's a long moment. Around you both, the trees creek as they bend in the wind, a thousand leaves rustling around you in a chorus.

Azriel breaks the silence, casting his eyes to the ground and lifting his blade. "No more questions."

He says it like a promise, his lips pulling at the edges like he might be offering a smile.

"Just fighting."

—

By the time the moon rises, the ache in your body has dimmed to a more bearable pain.

While you'd be miffed at the idea of Azriel pulling his punches, you can't deny the sliver of gratitude you have for it now. As you reach over the cauldron of simmering stew, only a few of your ribs twinge enough to make your motions falter momentarily. The stew bubbles and brews, filling your shelter with a hearty smell.

It's been too long since you last cooked something to share.

You try to shelve the guilt away—you and Azriel have been running a very tight schedule, switching between training, tonics and rest. Taking time to cook, for yourself or others, hasn't even had time to cross your mind.

Your brief brush back with the reality during yesterday's training, however, had provided you with ample reminders. Your home camp and all its violent glory.

So, you cook. The logs crackle on the fire and above them, the stew simmers gently as you stir absentmindedly at it. Giving yourself this quiet moment, you let your thoughts drift as the tiredness of the day trickles into your body. Your thoughts turn to the quiet Shadowsinger.

He had taken his leave as soon as he had declared the end of your days training, needing another trip to Velaris.

I'll be back by morning, he had said, each of his seven cerulean siphons flaring brightly before he stepped between the fabric of the world and disappeared. Another hidden trick up his sleeve.

You'd allowed yourself only one moment of surprise before you closed your mouth— you really needed to stop underestimating him. As the stew before you begins to hiss and spit, you pull yourself from your thoughts and prepare yourself for the discomfort of meal times.

They never are as friendly as you might hope.

Despite your generosity, the different outcasts of Exordor remain cagey. Regard you with pensive and guarded looks, hands hovering on the butts of their swords. You can't blame them in the slightest.

But those that can brave the walk to your cabin, risking both themselves and your own safety against the other Illyrian brutes in the camp, are rewarded with a hot meal. Tonight, you feed 12 hungry mouths before your doorstep grows quiet.

You pack it all away in silence, with a quite yearning for company you've only just become used to having.

It's only as you're tucking in for the night, your wings wrapped around yourself tightly, does the first pain strike. Right to your core, the very insides of your gut feels as though it's being shredded. You gasp, your entire body curling up tighter to fight against the pain.

For only a moment, confusion clouds your mind at the attack that seems to come from nowhere, from an invisible enemy. Only one answer comes forward—the only thing that can threaten to reveal your secret without your permission, through mere scent alone.

A certain agony that only tortures you twice a year.

[NEXT PART: BETRAYERS]

[ooffmlsorry]

One Piece Men Take You on a Nice Vacation

A/N: Well I did a poll and y'all definitely wanted this! Let's be serious so did I. I so desperately wanna go on vacation and leave my cares behind for a week. Alas, my imagination is all I've got 😔

Characters: Monster trio, Law, Koby

ZORO

Vacation? Did you forget who your boyfriend is? Zoro is the epitome of "No days off 😤"

I think what's more likely is y'all ended up getting lost together and it turns into an impromptu vacation

But that doesn't mean it isn't nice to essentially go camping together

You're incredibly lucky, there's a nice waterfall and river, the weather stays beautiful and the nights are crisp and clear

Once you convince him it's better to stay put and wait for the others to finally find you, it becomes a really relax retreat

Zoro still insisting on training, but that's a given. You probably train with him sometimes since you're dating, but otherwise it's the longest uninterrupted peace you've had since joining the crew

Just imagine sitting together with your feet in the cool river water, fishing in comfortable silence. The two of you wade in the stream together and splash each other, cook what you caught, cuddle around the campfire, and look up at the stars at night just talking

The privacy is perfect because it allows you two connect without worrying about any of the your crew mates

Zoro's even admittedly a little surprised by how much he enjoys being alone with you (it definitely gives him thoughts about what your future together could look like)

It's something the two of you look back on incredibly fondly, and if you happen to get lost on an island again...maybe for once Zoro did it intentionally

SANJI

This man is so serious about taking you a vacation, it's the time of your life

He's such a mom though lol. He cooks a shit ton before he leaves with you so the crew can reheat it and still have nutritious meals while their cook is away

He owes Nami so much berri, but since it's for a romantic vacation with you, the interest isn't too bad 🤭

I'd imagine it's somewhere with lots to do and lots to see like Gran Tesoro or Sabaody (*ignoring how fucked they are in context of the story, I just mean a place like that)

Unlike something impromptu accidental like Zoro's, he's planned out everything. A spa day, mani/pedi, sightseeing, shopping, really nice dinners.

You dance around together in your hotel and watch the fireworks and the city lights at night. Not to mention Sanji looks extremely handsome in the glow of it.

He absolutely spoils you! All in the name of how much he appreciates and loves you

And for what it's worth you don't let him forget how much it means to you...whenever you're not utterly speechless. It's more like the two of you spoil each other lol

The two of you have a lot of fun together, living in your own rose-colored world

As much as this is about you, you Sanji sometimes wishes he lived in a fairy tale world and this is it. It's just the breather you both need.

LUFFY

You kind of have to explain to him what a vacation is at first because he thinks you're just asking about going on an adventure with him🤭

Once he does understand the concept, he's pretty gung ho about it! Well, the "relaxing" part of a vacation sounds kind of dull to him but going somewhere just the two of you sounds awesome!

He kind of just springs it on you. You mentioned it once in passing and then a week later you're on a random island together and the Sunny is sailing off to pick you guys up in a week

It's not really a vacation spot, it's just a normal island he's never been to before (because he still doesn't quite understand the difference between a vacation and an adventure) but it's nice. It's somewhat reminiscent of Loguetown or Mock Town

You still have a great time with it's charm and the fact that there's little to no Marines around means you get peace in that aspect

That's the only kind of peace you get though lol

The two of you go all over the place, trying different food, poking around the jungle and in shops, and possibly getting into a little bit of trouble

Every night the two of you crash and sleep in as much as you want, wake up whenever you want and eat as much and whenever you want

It's kind of like a long sleepover with no parents around to keep you in line

As fun as it is you'll probably start to miss the routine of living as a Straw Hat and Luffy's itching to get back to the open seas!

LAW

Law pales at the thought of a vacation, but he's not above it for the people he loves

It's absolutely not his idea though...He was trying to think of something nice for your birthday and the crew told him how stressed you've been lately (plus have seen him? He needs a damn break and they also want him to relax)

He has everything planned down to the minute. When you're going, where you're going, what you're doing, when you'll be back. This man has a whole goddamn itinerary prepared tailored to your wants.

I feel like you guys would go to a place reminiscent of Dressrosa or Water 7 (*again ignoring the in-story horrors lol), something with really beautiful architecture and lots of history.

That plan turns more into more like a rough guideline no he's not upset about it look away but it's okay because you both needed the rest and a little less rigidity does Law some good

It's okay to stumble into a bookstore and get lunch two hours later than you planned, you swear

You two mostly avoid the tourist traps, except the historical ones because they're pretty cool and you learn a lot. Walking down the streets, hand in hand (yes, you get Law to hold you hand in public, it's the small wins okay?)

He can't stop working entirely, but that gives you time to do a little exploring on your own...not to mention you're completely surprised by how he pulls you into his lap as soon as you return

Being alone together makes him realize how important you are to him. There's not nearly as much crowding his mind when he's on vacation and all that free space up there is filled with his love for you

He's also kind of surprised how much he likes you outside of the Heart Pirate's rigid routine. Seeing you dressed up and not prepared for the sea, but rather a nice dinner, is a shock to his system. The fact that you're pretty much two normal people and nothing is falling apart surprises him. Maybe, he thinks, the two of you should do this more often

KOBY

A/N: Koby is literally my baby boy, cuppy-cake, sugar plum, pumpkin. He's so precious. Just a perfect lil guy 🥹💞 if Law is my husband, then Koby is my son

Oh lord, he's sweating lol

You? Wanna go on vacation with him? Alone? He's so flustered! Such a big step!

But he's really happy and super excited!! He definitely has a little countdown going on on his calendar

I could definitely see you guys having a beach type vacation, somewhere with a pier/boardwalk with all kinds of games and maybe a few cheap rides too

He'd absolutely win you a prize, and even better if you beat him and win him a prize

The photo booth pictures you end up taking are so cute and he keeps them forever

You hang out on the beach and build a massive sand castle, y'all probably get a terrible sunburn or at least Koby does 🤭

And at night you take nice long walks, listening to waves and collecting shells that catch your attention

The vacation is good for you, but it's also good for him to be out of the Marine environment for a minute

He gets to enjoy the results of all of his hard work and it makes him incredibly grateful that you're by his side, and when he tells you as such it's a long stuttering speech but he makes it through

Don't be surprised that he's awake at least 2-3 hours before you but that just means he gets time to think about what you're gonna do and be completely captivated as you sleep beside him

Those photo booth pictures? He keeps them in his jacket now. Whenever he gets overwhelmed or feels homesick he'll either look at them or pat his pocket to remind himself of those moments with you

[nalu-gifs]

“Are these all the job requests he’s ever taken?”

The quest I performed with Lucy for the first time!!

[limpfisted]

Something I think taken for granted for "good and heroic" characters like wyll is

How hard it is to be a hero in settings like this in gen. especially a solo hero.

And then u look at will especially at 17, especially after just losing half of your vision, and now being obligated to hunt devils for mizora, and not being able to tell people who you are or why you have magical powers

Wylls life has been extremely difficult.

Hes not "some rich boy." In fact, he tells you himself, he never really was. His father became grand Duke when he was 17. His father was a Duke before that, but his father was born to a poor blacksmith father and he was the youngest of six, so he worked his way up the ranks. Even as son of a Duke and grandduke---ulder was champion of the poorer "mythical middle class" lower city. All nobles and patriars are from the upper city. There's no way wyll wasn't looked down on by the upper city and then held to a certain untouchable standard as the flaming fist brat by the lower city/outer city people

And yet even at being some "rich boy" he excelled thru hard work and dedication, making things into a competition if nothing else, in which despite his Father's unsurpance to power, he still had PROOF he was the most charming, after all, he held the record for most sarabandes danced in a single evening, much to the exhaustion to the good lords and ladies of the courts.

But even so, with this "cushy life" (where he would get into trouble, mind you! Where his father would encourage him to get into fights, who would train him with a rapier, where he would drink in taverns in the lower city at 14 despite being "a noble rich boy" and hand deliver letters from his father to sharess's caress before he ever knew what went on with the pretty men and handsome ladies behind closed doors.)

Have you ever been camping, like experienced the holy shit, Outside of it all? I dont even like leaving the house without my phone. Wyll, 17, traveled all over the sword coast, with one eye, who knows how many supplies.

While wyll laughs off the trauma of it, losing an eye is a real ass disability that affects your motor skills. It can be difficult to do things like cut food at first, and it can take like 6 months WITH THERAPY for everything to feel "normal" again. Now imagine fending off goblins, and minotaurs, with no therapy, no physical therapy, no doctor. Having to navigate the cold of winter, cursed lands, mountains, all by yourself.

Having to learn to use you sword again, this time without your father. Remembering him every time you pick it up. Remembering the way he looked at you every time you face down a "devil." Spitting the words he would later say to you at them. They stink of avernus, they have brought ruin

Wyll dedicated his life to laboring for the people of the Sword Coast. It's not easy. He makes it look fun, because he's so proud of himself and happy to be helping people

But its actually hard and lonely. And it doesn't come easy, even to Wyll, I think. He had to train himself, it probably took him a long time to figure out what he was doing

I dont think wyll is really as inexperienced and naive as people think. Hes been to avernus, he's fought dragons and minotaurs. He's seen terrible things, he's STOPPED terrible things, and he's going to continue doing so, and choosing to do so, with the full knowledge of what that decision means, and the hard work and sacrifice it requires.

he's fully aware of who he is and what he's capable of, and he's extremely brave and strong and competent

Its good to be good for the sake of being good! And wyll does believe in fairy tales. But his dedication to the blade doesn't come because he's misinformed. Is he as experienced and powerful as he thinks he is? No, he's 24 LOL. But he's still done a lot! Has YOUR muse hunted devils thru avernus? Has ur muse even BEEN to avernus?

Wyll ravengard genuinely is improvising half the time---but more important than simply "being" good and wanting to do good----Wyll has the experience, practice and competence in serving a community to actually BETTER and protect communities.

In fandom spaces we often talk about how certain characters are "just so good" but we like. We forget about the effort it takes to actually commit to acts of doing good, the practice and perservance it takes to competently serve the community.

You can give the people the shirt off ur back but u run out of shirts eventually. Wyll has made himself an important resource on the Sword Coast for its safety. And I think we take that for granted bc its a genre staple, but like. He worked really hard. He dedicated himself to this.

He sold his soul, and he kept living and doing good anyway

[strawberries-and-summer-days]

ITS NOT MIDNIGHT ANYMORE . ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁

pairing: Show!Luke Castellan x apollo!fem!reader!

warnings: swearing + derogatory names i think thats about it

a/n: alrighty!! we're here for the final round of this whole part series thingamajig. i kinda put this off cause i know luke's gotta make a whole oscar worthy speech and i was worried my writing wouldn't cut it lol. but anyhoo i hope you enjoy!!

part one: midnight troubles | part two: meet me at midnight

what.

the.

fuck?

wait... no yeah, what the fuck?

"what?" your voice is quiet and you turn around slowly, your eyes narrowed.

"...because, i- i love you,"

"you're telling me that you don't want to be friends... because you love me?" you eye luke. "you think you can just say you love me and i'll throw myself at your feet and all with be right again?" you take a menacing step forward. "you think you can tell me a lie and get out of this?"

luke's eyes shine with an unrestrained emotion you can't quiet place. "you think i'm lying?"

another step forward. "yes."

luke takes a hesitant step forward. "im not," his voice is soft.

"you are."

"i'm not."

"bullshit."

the look in luke's eyes cause you to hesitate for a moment. is he actually being serious right now?

"then what the fuck luke?" your arms fly out and you drop them. "what in the ever-loving-actual-fuck is wrong with you?" you shake your head and try to repress the anger bubbling beneath your skin. "you think you can just throw this shit in my face? i've been in love with you for years. years. do you see me acting like the worlds biggest asshole? no! do you see me freezing up when someone calls my best friend a slut or a whore? no! do you see my trying to get out of this whole fucked up situation by telling my best friend that i don't want to be their friend and that i'm in love with them? NO!" you heave you breath coming out harshly.

"w-what?"

"i-i'm just done luke," you say quickly barely even noting you'd just told him you love him in your anger.

"y/n-"

"i'm done!" you snap stepping back from him. "i'm giving you until tomorrow afternoon to sort your shit out, and work out whatever the fuck you want to say or do. but after that, we're done. this-" you motion between the two of you- "is done. luke and y/n? over. we're fucking done. you've got," you look down at your watch. "like eighteen hours, and considering how long it takes you to answer, you better get cracking." you roll your eyes and walk away from the twinkling glow of the fairy lights. not even caring when you step in a puddle from percy's shenanigans earlier today. not even caring that it's dark.

your world has been dark for a week.

~~~

everyone in camp could tell you and luke had some sort of falling out. it was obvious when you didn't sing this morning, it was obvious when you didn't come and watch him train, it was obvious when you had brushed past him and he had looked torn, it was most definitely obvious when luke had somehow managed to be bested during sword sparring.

and that was what had set campers off.

sides had started to be chosen and feuds had started to form.

chaos was brewing already and it had only been a day. rumours about what happened - curtesy of the grape bitch, you wanna say phyllis..? - had formed and spread like wildfire.

it was almost scary how much unknown power you both had over campers.

so now you're sitting on the beach watching as the waves lap against the shore contemplating if you should just hunt luke down and smack him instead of talking - it seems really reasonable you guys.

"hey..." a deep voice comes from behind you.

"hello."

luke's warm presence appears behind you and it takes everything in you to not lean into it.

"so..." you start, hoping luke gets the idea.

"so yeah..." luke sighs. "y/n, please, listen to me- no hear me out okay? just let me get this all out and then you can yell at me." he takes a deep breath and lets it all out in one go.

"i love you. i've loved you since the day you showed up at camp all grumpy and refusing to socialise with anyone except me. i love the way your singing can create immense peace, i love the way you scrunch your nose whenever you get embarrassed. i love the way your face lights up when campers come and talk to you. you're a star in the night sky, shining brighter everyday. you're my best friend and im hopelessly- desperately in love with you. i have been since forever. and i'm the world biggest asshole for letting the shit that went down last week happen. please, please, forgive me. i'll do anything."

your heart burns with every word he says. luke's eyes shine with barely unrestrained emotion and his face is the epitome of adoration.

you're both so wrapped up in his words that you don't notice the small gathering of campers at the edge of the sand watching the two of you. each of them, though they've chosen sides luke or y/n, they all hope for the same thing.

luke lifts his hand and gently tucks a stray curl behind your ear. "please say something."

"um..." you breathe, struggling to find the right words to say. "wow."

luke looks at you so earnestly it hurts your heart.

"luke... i love you. i. love. you. do you get that? i've been practically obsessed with you since i showed up at camp. and you fucking hurt me last week, some big speech isn't going to change that."

"y/n," luke starts.

"luke listen to me please." you breathe out shakily. "i don't want to lose you, but i can't- i just can't-" you're cut off when luke's soft lips press onto yours.

the kiss is soft, searching, hopeful. you lean into it slightly and the campers watching nearby silently start to celebrate.

but then you come to your senses.

pulling away, you look at luke with tears in your eyes. "no luke, no. you can't kiss me and make it all go away. you cant just kiss your way out of this. i love you and its tearing me apart."

"y/n," his voice is filled with anguish.

"its physically hurting me luke. it hurts." tears are freely streaming down your face now. "it hurts so fucking much that the one person i trusted to stand up for me, the one person i trusted with my whole being can't even defend me in a petty situation like that. how am i supposed to move on from this knowing my best friend in everything can't even stand up for me?"

tears shine in luke's eyes.

"so no luke. no. i don't care what you have to say anymore. this-" you motion between the two of you. "is done. im done. i love you but i love myself more."

you stand up then, tears falling down your face like waterfalls. "see ya round lukey."

two broken words a wrenched from luke's throat then. "no. please."

"i'm sorry..."

a/n pt2: ummm soo im very sorry for that yeah.... sorry about that ending of the series (if its wanted enough i'll make another part maybe possibly)

TAGLIST: @iammightsadyall, @y0urm0m12, @just35yrsandtrying, @kaceyh24, @dancing-inasnowglobe, @purplerose291, @shoyofroyoyoyo, @purple-imaginess, @spqrkles, @itz-lilywelch, @d1lf-loverrr, @cassiopeia-core

[miru667]

All of the art I did for this year's Camp Weehawken!! 😊 This year both mainverse Audrey Grace AND 8 yr old Audrey Grace were at summer camp and they even got to meet each other LMAO but that's the beauty and magic of Weehawken for ya. I had a marvelous time rping with peeps, read more below for context and credits!

Numbers correspond to the order of the pics!

1) A braid train!! Audrey is braiding her younger self's hair while Entre (@straycalamities) is braiding hers. The grownups are have a heartfelt convo about hair and childhood and identity, meanwhile baby Audrey is thinking about revolution. 2) Audrey realizing she's going to get a STAR STICKER!! for being a good little helper to Entre, who was her cabin counselor for the 2nd year in a row. c: 3) A bad day for little Audrey!! She saw something scary (a grown-up glared at her) and then she almost died in a freak blizzard accident because Beth her beloved art counselor was having a panic attack. 4) Big Audrey in her camp dance outfit! I wanted to try dusky sunset colours...this dress has pockets and if you look closely you can see it's also great for hiding knives underneath. Would you dance with her? 🥺🫴 5) Small Audrey in her summerween outfit! She was a little angel to match her Auntie Miru's death god outfit...😌 Audrey wishes she had real wings so she can fly far, far away. 6) A crayon drawing by kid Audrey...last summer she tried to run away from camp and then she caught a cold and in her delirium she ran into two fairy people in the forest who were having a picnic by the waterfall. She thinks it might've been a fever dream and she never forgot about it (in reality it was adult Bean and Audrey on a picnic outing haha). Bean belongs to @lemonine 7) Audrey dressed up as Elphaba from Wicked for the summerween event! P: Here she is sitting down on some porch steps after taking off her hat. She's having an existential hour talk with Som the camp nightguard, Som was having doubts about his life so Audrey shows him a warm smile first to reassure him. 8) This sequence was inspired by a scene from one of my favourite movies, "In This Corner of the World" (the extended cut!). ;w; For this rp Audrey and Bean (@lemonine) were catching up and reconciling...there's too much context to explain but basically Audrey thinks it's important to support your friends no matter what heartache you might be feeling. Hiding her sadness is her core character trait, I think..! They're wearing life jackets because they were on a rowboat :3

[sunnys-out]

Not a Fairy Tale Ending | Ali Krieger x Reader

A/N: Hello! Thanks for the kind messages while I have been away studying for the LSAT. Just also want to say that this is completely fiction and Ali would NEVER act this way. Again requests are closed...thanks for understanding.

From prompt list: 20. "And I… I still love you, even after all of this time".

TW: Emotional manipulation, anxiety/panic attack symptoms, NSFW alluded, no happy ending...well kind of

WC: 2420

My face remained calm as I looked towards the teleprompter and not at the newer pundit on the other side of the table. My knee quietly bounced under the table and did not stop until one of the other pundits leaned over and said “hey, you never get nervous…I get it but you got this like always”. I only nod as my attention does not waver from the teleprompter. 

God, I wish it was nerves…it was more like years and years of emotions physically manifesting themselves. Sadness in my chest, anger in my arms, fear in my legs, and finally yearning in my eyes.

The director behind the camera signals me to start.

“Welcome to Morning Footy here at CBS Sports, where you get all of your football news. If you are new here, My name is (y/n)/(l/n),  former two-time FIFA Women’s World Cup champion with the USWNT, and former midfielder for Arsenal and Wolfsburg”. 

I finish introducing my fellow pundits and then subtly take in a breath before I start, my knee beginning to bounce betraying the calmness in my voice as I begin.

“And today we are introducing our newest pundit for the month, fellow two-time FIFA Women’s World Cup champion, and recently NWSL champion, Ali Krieger” I could not feel my hands as I clapped as I looked over at Ali. The last time I had seen her in person was at my retirement game that we had with Ireland and I could not even remember when that was.

Her smile was cordial and genuine from what I could tell from across the table. 

“Ali, you’ve played with and against (Y/N) before, it must be nice to see a familiar face here huh?” the pundit beside me patted my shoulder, bringing me out of my slight daze.

“She's been an amazing player since the beginning and now a pundit! I tell you she swore up and down that she would do coaching and never be a pundit” she teased as the pundits looked at me as I just shrugged my shoulders.

“The way life works you know” I said sheepishly, my knee not bouncing any slower than it was a minute ago.

Ali continued, “Still I would love to go back and just partner up with her in training again like old times.”

A little laugh escaped me as my fists were clenched underneath the table

 “Sure you would,” I thought to myself.

______________________________________________________________

I had my first cap with the USWNT in the 2007 Algarve Cup in Portugal…fresh out of UNC and was signed by Wolfsburg. I hadn’t had any serious relationships and I was fully out. I think then I was the happiest I had ever been…then I met Ali Krieger. It was from a distance and by that I mean the passing glances and touches from when I would either get a ball from her or she would get the ball away from me. 

She was at Frankfurt and I was at Wolfsburg and we were eventually introduced by our teammates solely on the basis that we were two new Americans in Germany. I remember only bits and pieces from then but I remember that she looked at me with admiration as I already had a couple of caps with the USWNT and that was something she was aiming to do in the next year. I liked the attention that she gave me after that match because it was genuine.

I was called into camp for the Four Nations Tournament in 2008 and for the first time I was not considered a bubble player. I had proven myself worthy enough for a semi-permanent spot on the team and that was truly an honor. Ali also made it to the camp meaning I was no longer the baby of the team. 

We were all gathered around and Rampone started her usual speech before the practice and introduced the new debutants at camp. 

“Ali, you’ve played against (Y/N) before. It must be nice to see a familiar face here huh? You both can pair off since you’re familiar with each other” Rampone patted her shoulder after the talk. 

Ali nodded towards me, “Can I see if anyone else is available, I don’t want to bother (y/n)?” Rampone shook her head.

“She doesn’t bite I promise…right? (y/n) you don’t bite?” She says towards me as I take a drink from my water bottle.

I respond with a confused look towards her, “Uh….no?” and with that Rampone gently pushes Ali towards me.

I toss her her water bottle, “Rampone likes to stick the babies of the group together on the first day of camp, sorry about that” 

Ali sighs, “Nah it’s no problem…just want to get to know more people here…not that you’re not great or sorry… I’m being stupid”

I shake my head, “hey no I get it, I mean it took me a bit to get to know people, but if you can’t find another partner, I’ll still be here to take you so don’t worry”

Ali smiled at me and said thanks before leaving and pairing up with Wambach…I did wish that Wambach turned her down but it’s alright because Ali did come to me after Boxx rejected her partner offer a couple days after.

______________________________________________________________

I was always the backup for Ali, I didn’t mind it…camp was lonely at times and when she would be with me I felt less alone. I let myself be there for her when she was sad, lonely, angry at the world, but she never did so for me…I didn’t realize that until much much later.

“So, as former national teammates y’all were close right? How was (Y/N)? Any dirty secrets you can spill?” the pundit beside me joked as he elbowed me once again. I only, playfully, roll my eyes at him as Ali answers the question. 

I did not look at Ali as she said the following, my refusal to look at her could easily be interpreted as shyness or not being able to take praise.

“Oh (y/n), she was such a great player both on and off the pitch. She was always there for me especially when there was nowhere else to go. I was so glad to have been able to celebrate with her at her last game ever. She means a lot to so many people…(y/n) you mean a lot to me especially”

I did not feel my body at that moment as I slowly breathed in her words, my body now felt like I was in the middle of the ocean and I did not feel the bottom. 

______________________________________________________________

I don’t know why it always happened while we were with the USWNT…club was when I had some reprieve from Ali but I also missed her…it was such a double-edged sword. She was a drug and I was addicted to her.

We were called up for the 2011 World Cup in Germany. I remember Ali talking to me sharing that she was talking to this other footballer during the camps leading up to the World Cup. 

 I did my best to hide the jealousy I held when she spoke about the player with such admiration…I was just there to hold all her love for another…and then be there to hold the pain when caused by another…

I heard a small knock on the door of my hotel room, I looked up from my book and looked at the clock, 8:42 PM…

“Tobs? Don’t tell me you lost your key card again?” I call out but get no immediate answer.

A small recognizable “It’s me” sounded through the door. Tossing my book onto my bed and opening the door to only be engulfed in a hug by Ali was what I distinctly remember.

Her tears wetting my old UNC shirt as I immediately pulled her in, “Hey, Hey, hey…what’s wrong?” My hand gently rubbed her back as she continued sobbing into my chest. 

“She broke up with me” came out muffled as I felt her fist gripping at my old shirt leaving it wrinkled when she finally let go.

I did not say anything and just led her to sit at my bed while I stayed crouched in front of her.

“Ali, I'm so sorry, you really did not deserve that, honestly. Who in their right mind would think to do that while you're in a tournament… ” I say softly as I grab her hands and warming them in my own. 

Ali looked at me, tears streaming down her face, “I thought I meant a lot to her you know…like you have always been there for me and I thought she would too but she left me”.

My body moved on it own as I engulfed her in a hug and saying, “I will never let you go, you mean a lot to me and you will find someone who will also show that”

My memory becomes unclear because when I pulled away she had my face in her hands as she brought me into a kiss. I had dreamed of that moment for so long and it was happening. My thoughts at that moment were that she had chosen me…she chose me…

A quick call to Tobin to let me have the room for the night and everything seemed to be my fairy tale ending as soon as she kissed me again and saying “ (y/n) you mean a lot to me especially”

She would come to me the next morning before the Brazil/US match to say that she made a mistake and that she hopes that I can just forget about it and that we can still remain friends. I nodded and saw her walk off to eat with some other players while I elected to go back to my room saying I needed to call home…my eyes burned as the tears filled my eyes once I was out of sight.

We won that game…but I agree with the critics…it was my worst performance of my career…so much so that I was subbed off at the 70’ minute.

I got so much backlash from the media for my “attitude and lack of decorum” when I was seen kicking my seat before sitting down at the bench…I was frustrated, angry, and sad…not because of my poor play but because of how much Ali had affected me. 

She did not see the look I shot her when she turned away from me after patting me on the back after the game going , “Hey we all have bad games, don’t think about it too much”.

______________________________________________________________

I quickly turned away playing the shy card as best as I could.

“Nah, don’t say that…we were all like family on that team…I’m not special” I say with such a fakeness that it actually made me feel ill.

The director finally signaled the end of the segment to break for a short snack and conversation. Normally, I would stay at the table and eat my blueberry Costco muffin while chatting about the Premier League with my fellow pundits…but I wanted to leave immediately and hide in my shared dressing room…

I got up from my seat at the table and before I could get 10 steps away from the set, Ali called my name. Before, hearing her say my name would make my legs buckle beneath me but now it made me want to walk away from her faster. I didn't. It seemed that my feet were frozen to the ground. 

She caught up to me and grabbed me by that arm leading me away even before asking. 

“Can we talk privately?” 

I sigh, as I lead her to my shared dressing room and lock the door behind us. 

Words of encouragement flooded my head as I finally turned around and with as much confidence I could muster.

“What did you want to talk about?” I say as I cross the room and sit down at the nearest chair in the room.

Ali, wrung her hands, “I just wanted to talk…the whole thing with Ashlyn has been hard and it made me realize how much I missed you…how you used to always care for me and life has been busy so we never really talked much since you retired…I just wanted to see if we could possibly try this again?”

She got closer to me and I immediately stood up which caused her to reach out to grab my hands.

I found myself back in that hotel room, back to teary eyed Ali Krieger begging for my comfort…knowing that I’d crumble and give in…

“Stop” my voice firm as I moved my hands away from her…

I step back and tried to keep my voice from cracking as she looked at me confused,

“Ali…I can’t…I don’t want to do this again…I was never your first choice always a back up until you found someone…” She steps forward trying to interrupt me and grabbing my hands again but I move away.

“Ali…no” my voice finally breaks…

“I loved you Ali…since we first met…And I… I still love you, even after all of this time but I can’t do this anymore”. 

She remains frozen as I continue, “You can’t just come to me after your heart is shattered expecting me to be there for you…expecting me to just give in and kiss you and so you can have a temporary happily ever after…this is not a fairy tale ending Ali…I don’t want to do this again”.

I grab something in the room to give reason to me being in here and get to the door, “I’m not changing my mind…I deserve to get the same love that I gave you for years…it just will never be with you…I’ll see you back at the table”.

Ali stayed behind…she returned minutes later…we never spoke about it or to each other again…the cordial smiles and banters on the camera that month would be the last time I ever spoke to Ali Krieger…and, for a moment, after her time as a pundit ended I felt that same feeling of freedom when I left UNC…before meeting Ali…and no one outside of us two, the public, my fellow pundits, the fans were none the wiser. 

Well until I told my, now, wife about it…because she became the true fairy tale ending to my story as we kissed at the altar and that’s all that really matters now.

[shiny-crocodile]

the best person ive ever met

lucy bronze x ona batlle

Summary

lucy and ona origin story; semi-slow burn, semi-quick; multi chapters that will get a little smutty

masterlist ch1-11

CHAPTER 12

chapter summary: marriage and mouths

chapter notes: thank you anons and especially @shortnsweet1985 for the suggestions on this one

smut 18+

//

At England camp, training had commenced in preparation for the World Cup. The girls back together as friendlies had been organised to help build chemistry among the team and for fans to see two final games on home soil before Australia.

As the players made their way off the pitch, LJ jogged over to wrap an arm around Lucy, doing her best to weigh her down and succeeding.

"So what you doing on the days off this weekend," LJ asked as they untied their boots, "I've got tickets to 50 Cent at the o2 if you wanna come."

Lucy hung her head back, she would do anything to go to a 50 Cent concert and sing Hate It Or Love It word for word with the man himself.

Well, almost anything. She wouldn't bail on plans with Ona.

"Oh my god I so so wish, but l'm going to a wedding in Spain this weekend," Lucy said, finding it the hardest thing in the world to turn down.

"No way, you're going to that?" Tooney piped up, "you're down so incredibly bad. Isn't that in the middle of nowhere in Spain and you're gonna go for our 1 night off?"

Lucy rolled her eyes, her go to reaction pretty much every time Tooney opened her mouth.

"Wait, down bad?" LJ said cluesly.

"Who you down bad for?" Hempo asked, joining the conversation.

Trust the two Lauren's to be the only people in women's football who hadn't heard about Lucy and Ona, both their minds away with the fairies.

"Ona," Lucy said proudly, "Batlle."

"No way!" both Lauren's said in unison.

"You idiots didn't know?" Tooney said, also shocked there was anyone unaware. "Well, I guess lucky for you, I have seen waaaay too much of their disgusting PDA."

"You have not," Lucy said, although she knew that was a lie.

"Have I not?" Tooney challenged, "because I could have sworn I saw your fingers in Ona's mou-“

"That's enough," Lucy said, throwing her damp training top right at Tooney's head.

The Lauren's were not done with their fact finding mission.

"Wait, so how long have you been going out?" LJ asked.

"Officially 2 and a half months, but seeing each other all this year really."

"Show us your cute couple photos," Hempo chimed in.

You didn't have to ask Lucy twice, she got up her favourites folder on her phone and went through a series of photos, giving context as Tooney fake gagged in the background.

"So you're going to miss 50 Cent to be in Spain for about 12 hours with Ona?" LJ said, not understanding how Lucy could ever turn down their favourite artist.

"I mean it's a bit more than 12 but is that a serious question? Did you miss the photo of her in a bikini?" Lucy said, turning her phone around to show them again, "of course I am."

///

As Ona arrived at the wedding she was taken aback by how beautiful it was. The brides had thought of every single detail.

Flowers were scattered everywhere, violinists in each corner of the room serenading the guests that passed.

She looked around and saw couples everywhere, feeling slightly gutted that her's wasn't here.

"Oniiiii," the younger girl heard from behind her as Jana and Leila ambushed her with hugs and kisses.

"Where's Lucy?" Leila asked, looking around.

"Yeah not like you to be carrying your own bag, where's my favourite right back?" Jana echoed.

Ona gave her age mate a glare, "her flight got delayed so she's just coming for the reception."

"She better be," Vicky Losada said, appearing out of nowhere, "I have moved heaven and earth to get another table setting at this wedding."

"Vicky!" the girls echoed, hugging the wife-to-be.

"She's coming, she's coming. She's landed now so is on the drive," Ona reassured, "and thank you sooo much."

"Caught me in my nice lover-of-love mood," Vicky said, hugging the girls before making her way back behind the scenes to gear up for the ceremony.

It was a stunning wedding. The brides looked insanely beautiful, the flower girls adorable, it was like something out of a disney movie.

Ona only wished Lucy was sat next to her rather than two obsessed with each other couples.

///

As the starters came out, Lucy still hadn't arrived.

Ona was avoiding looking towards the head table, terrified of the dirty look she imagined the bride was giving her, so just focused on her soup instead.

Jana, Leila and their partners made up the rest of Ona's table, who all kept her distracted and entertained as she tried to not look at her phone every 5 minutes.

Lucy - I'm at the front desk, can you come out so they'll let me drop my bags?

Ona - coming

The Spaniard jumped up, throwing her napkin on her chair as she moved as fast as she could in her sky high heels.

"Hey pretty girl"" Lucy said as she saw her girlfriend make her way towards her, the heels making her look model-esque.

Not even saying hey, overcome with wedding fever, Ona just kissed Lucy, acting as a reminder for the older girl on exactly why she had made the long journey.

///

"Rough trip?" Ona asked after they had quickly dumped Lucy's stuff in the room, making their way back to ensure they were seated for the main course.

"Worth it," Lucy said, giving Ona's waist a squeeze as she tried to forget about the hours spent waiting in the airport and the traffic jams on every road.

As the English girl greeted the rest of the table, everyone was nearly as excited as Ona to see her.

"Lucy!!" Vicky shouted as she made a beeline for their table.

The two knew each other from their City days but this reaction was definitely more Ona and alcohol related.

"Finally Ona can actually enjoy my wedding instead of being glued to her phone," Vicky said, bringing Lucy into a hug.

Ona smiled awkwardly as she muttered sorry. She knew she hadn't been the most present but wasn't aware it was that obvious.

"You look amazing," Lucy complimented the bride, "I'm so sorry l'm late!"

"No, no, it's ok, I am just glad you're here," Vicky said, grabbing a bottle from the centre of the table to pour Lucy a drink.

"Enjoy yourself girls, I'll catch up with you later," the bride said before turning to return to the head table.

"You look amazing too by the way," Lucy said, gripping Ona's thigh, before the younger girl took her hand and started toying with each finger while rubbing circles in her palm, so happy to finally have her girlfriend with her.

As the table's conversation changed to Spanish, Lucy drifted in and out of listening and having her own conversation with Jill, Jana's girlfriend.

"How long have you two been together then?" Jill asked, internally noting the closeness of the couple whose seats were moved so close to each other they were basically merged while their hands wouldn’t separate.

"Well we actually met at a wedding in December," Lucy started, about to get into story time.

"December?" Jana asked, suddenly showing interest in their conversation. "Why did I think it was much later than that?"

"Well we met there but we got together properly in April," Lucy explained.

"But we'll say December because who were we kidding, right?" Ona directed at Lucy, who brought up the girl's hand to give it a soft kiss.

"Wait, wait, wait," Jana said, doing mental arithmetic in her head. "So who was the girl who abandoned you in the street in February?"

Ona laughed while Lucy did not.

"Umm," Ona said through chuckles.

"No way," Jana said, then turning to Jill, "remember I told you about the girl who completely froze when she saw her ex on a date. It's Lucy!"

The English girl could feel her face heat up, hating this type of attention, especially when it was something she didn't particularly want to relive.

"So the ex was Keira?" Jill asked.

With Lucy not responding quick enough, Ona jumped in again, "yeah, it was Keira."

Lucy was a little annoyed that Ona wasn't doing more to change the subject when it was clearly making her uncomfortable, but the Spaniard had drunk one too many glasses of prosecco to really notice.

Now it was Leila's turn to work her brain.

"Oh my god! Was this the Lola thing?" Leila asked, Lucy's head spinning to Ona, thinking she'd told her friends.

"How do you know?" asked Ona, Lucy's attention now back on Leila but still not really knowing how to chime in, not in control of the conversation or situation at all.

"She is a colleague," Leila said, Lucy remembering they both currently worked at City.

Leila continued, "I overheard her discussing having dinner with Keira and you walking in. She said there was some job offer from Barcelona and that you told the club not to hire her."

"Well that's not true," Ona piped up, feeling the need to defend Lucy. "Keira told her not to take the job because it would have been weird to work with the girl she cheated on Lucy with. Why would she ever think she could work there?"

Lucy moved her hand out and away from Ona's, taking a big swig of her drink in an attempt to stop her cheeks from burning up, also annoyed at herself for staying so quiet as she should have known this was coming.

Finally, the absence of Lucy's hand in hers and the deep shade of crimson on the English girl's cheeks forced Ona to notice her change in demeanour. Better late than never, she tried to back track.

"Oh shit, sorry, I didn't mean-" Ona shook her head, unsure how she was meant to pull this back when her tipsy brain was struggling to keep up with her mouth.

"Lucy, sorry I didn't know," Leila said, at least someone managing to be a bit more composed.

"All good," Lucy said, the prosecco settling in her stomach gifting her the ability to finally respond, "all in the past."

She sounded more comfortable than she felt, but she was grateful her blunt response was enough to stop any further questions coming her way.

"So Leila, Jana said you were going to Brazil this summer?" Jill said, changing the subject and giving Lucy an excuse to sit back in her chair and try shake the embarrassment, sipping at her drink.

"Sorry," Ona said quietly to Lucy as the holidays conversation engulfed the rest of the table.

Lucy just gave her a small forced smile, pretending to be interested in the holidays conversation but really she just needed a moment to get over her dirty laundry being aired.

The Spaniard gave her a minute before she slid her hand back into Lucy's, who let their fingers intertwine again.

The English girl would struggle to be annoyed at her girlfriend for more than a couple of minutes. It wasn't even because they didn't have a lot of time together tonight, she just couldn't stay mad at that face.

But she could get her own back.

///

As desserts were cleared away, speeches laughed and cried at, and first dances done, the songs picked up pace and the guests started to flood the dance floor.

Ona's favourite thing about Lucy, well one of, was her dancing.

Their dances near and with each other at their last wedding was what cemented the sexual attraction, and Ona was desperate for a repeat of that tonight.

The two girls would dance with each other and with the other people on the dance floor, it turning into a salsa show with partners swapped constantly.

Obviously Lucy and Ona were repeatedly drawn back together, but whenever the Spaniard tried to up the sexy, pushing herself against Lucy or running her hands over her, she would get lightly shrugged off as the older girl spun around.

This was absolutely intentional, but as with most things tonight, Ona hadn't quite realised it yet.

Then Beso came on, the song of the summer and one the pair had danced around the kitchen to and sung along to in the car many times.

It was their song, so Ona shimmied over to Lucy, wrapping her arms around her neck and leaning in for a kiss at the chorus.

But all at once Lucy had ghosted, ducking under Ona's arms to leave them to fall to her side.

"What the hell?" Ona asked as Lucy slowly moved backwards to the rhythm of the song.

Then Ona saw the glimmer in her girlfriend's eye, she knew that look, she was being teased.

The Spaniard marched back to the English girl and put her arms back around her neck.

"What are you doing?" the younger girl asked.

"That big mouth of yours needs to be taught a lesson," Lucy whispered into her ear, voice raspy enough to make Ona's knees wobble, "so it isn't coming anywhere near mine."

With that, Lucy ducked away again, this time making her way over to the bar, intending to get only herself a drink. She wasn't on doting girlfriend duty tonight.

Ona stood there shocked for a minute, not used to not getting her way or Lucy refusing a kiss, she had no clue how to deal with it.

Meanwhile, Lucy was waiting for her drink to be made at the bar, proud of herself for channeling her annoyance and embarrassment into something much more fun, even if it wasn't as fun for Ona.

She heard the tapping of shoes before Ona leaned on the bar alongside her.

"Are you serious? You really think you can keep this up?" the younger girl said, so confident of her ability to make Lucy crack.

"Watch me," the older girl said, booping her girlfriend's nose before she picked her drink up and made her way back to the dance floor.

Lucy knew she was the life and soul of every wedding dance floor, she had been told many times, and she knew how much Ona loved her dancing, confident this would be much more difficult for the Spaniard than it would for her.

As the next songs played, Lucy made it her mission to wind her girlfriend up, dancing the Spanish way with nearly every fellow guest except for Ona.

The dancing wasn't inappropriate and didn't cross the line, but it was just risqué enough to bring out the glimmer of jealousy in Ona's eyes.

With one of Vicky's cousin's arse pushed into Lucy's front as they danced together, Ona shoed the cousin away, leaning into her girlfriend's ear.

"My feet hurt, can we go to the room now." Ona pleaded, practically hobbling now as blisters were starting to form.

"Nah, not ready yet," Lucy said, making her way over to another dance partner.

Ona fought through the pain and stuck right behind Lucy, she wasn't going to let anyone else dance with her girlfriend tonight.

Now it was the younger girl's turn to put on a show, pushing herself up and taking Lucy's hands to put them on her waist as she ground her backside into Lucy.

She was lowering and raising herself to get exactly the right friction on Lucy's front, not even having to see the English girl's face to know her head would be spinning.

And she wasn't wrong, Lucy almost bit through her lip as she struggled to control the want and desire the Spaniard was drawing out of her.

She spun the younger girl around to face her, head so gone she was basically ready to give in, but was met with a pained grimace.

Looking down at Ona's feet, she could have sworn she could see them trembling slightly.

"Oh you're really in pain," Lucy said, receiving a nod back from Ona.

"Jump on," Lucy said, turning to offer her girlfriend a piggy back.

The younger girl couldn't say no, anything to be off her feet. She jumped up and wrapped her arms and legs around Lucy as the taller girl took them round to say their goodbyes to people, Ona having to explain her footwear faux pas for the second wedding in a row.

While the piggy back was cute, with the pain no longer felt in her feet, Ona was back into horny mode, putting her mouth onto Lucy's earlobe, sucking and licking as they made their way down the corridor to their room.

The older girl couldn't stop her without dropping her, so just had to let it happen as the Spaniard tugged and sucked.

As they entered their room Lucy let Ona slide off her back and onto a chair.

She may have let her guard slip for a moment, but that guard went straight back up as soon as the carrying was done.

Holding her leg up for Lucy to come take her shoes off for her, the Spaniard was left hanging.

"Gonna brush my teeth," Lucy said, making her way to the bathroom, leaving Ona to take off her own shoes.

Her feet were red and blistered, but felt 1 million times better now they weren't in those prison-like heels.

Not stopping with the shoes, she stripped off the rest of her clothes, leaving her just in lacy red underwear.

Lucy took a deep breath as soon as she re-entered the room, knowing Ona was never going to make this easy.

The English girl did her best to ignore her half naked girlfriend, making her way over to the bed before Ona blocked her path.

"Please Lucy, I'm sorry, let me make it up to you," Ona said, easily guiding Lucy over to sit in the hotel room's arm chair, the older girl not able to hold back a smile from creeping in.

Ona quickly scurried over to the speakers, Lucy instantly recognising the intro as Beso and smiling a little wider.

The Spaniard dimmed the lights before moving slowly to the beat, back over to Lucy.

The older girl thought this was just going to be the standard apology make out session, but quickly realised Ona was gearing up for a lap dance.

Two meters away, Ona sunk down to her hands and knees, slowly crawling the rest of the distance, putting in an emphasised arse shake to really get her girlfriend excited.

"My god," Lucy couldn't help but let out, ridding Ona of any nerves with the sign she was on the right track.

The Spaniard reached Lucy's legs, lifting herself up to unbutton and quickly remove Lucy's trousers, before raising the older girl's leg to kiss up her calf, dropping it as she got to her knee.

Pushing herself up further, Ona spun around, arse facing Lucy now who couldn't help herself from giving a squeeze before the younger girl started bouncing it in front of her face.

As she lowered herself onto Lucy's lap, she took the older girl's hands, putting them onto her boobs to help hold her in position as she moved up and down.

Gripping onto her girlfriend's chest, Lucy placed a small kiss on Ona's bare back, before taking one hand to remove and discard the younger girl's bra.

Ona got up to turn herself around, her chest now falling perfectly in front of Lucy's face, who rested her head into her girlfriend's front.

The younger girl looked down before pushing Lucy backwards and removing her vest top, already seeing a huge wet patch on the older girl's grey knickers.

She put her knees either side of Lucy's to straddle her, her own wet patch now being felt by the English girl's thigh.

Lucy placed both hands on Ona's hips as the Spaniard leaned in to lick up her sweaty neck, before taking her earlobe into her mouth, showing what she could do with her tongue as she was desperate for her girlfriend to give in and let her kiss her.

It didn't take much longer of Ona bouncing up and down on Lucy's lap before she got exactly that.

"Kiss me," Lucy said as she wrapped one hand around the back of Ona's head, pulling her in, completely forgetting what she was ever withholding this for.

Their mouths met filthily, as if they hadn't kissed in months, tongues desperate to explore each other.

Ona slipped a hand behind Lucy to unfasten her bra, removing each strap with her mouth before spitting it to the floor.

"See what I can do with my mouth," Ona said as she kissed over Lucy's shoulder, before whispering into her ear, "I knew you'd never be able to resist it."

Suddenly Lucy pushed herself up with one hand, the other effortlessly wrapping around to hold and lift Ona up with her.

The younger girl was shocked by the sudden movement but she knew her words would pull something out of Lucy, so she just wrapped her legs around the taller girl's waist, letting herself be carried over to the bed.

"Think we've heard enough from that mouth," Lucy ordered, throwing her girlfriend onto the bed before climbing on to join.

Ona's back flat against the bed, Lucy made quick work of her knickers, a string of wetness breaking as they were removed and flung to the floor.

"Oh my god," Ona said as the air washed over her folds once Lucy had spread her legs apart.

"No," Lucy said, looking up at the girl laid out in front of her, what a sight it was, "you talk, I stop. Your mouth is on time out."

Ona grabbed the pillow next to her and shoved it over her face to scream into, ridiculously turned on from being bossed around.

The Spaniard effectively gagging herself gave Lucy an idea, she switched out of bossy mode for a second to somehow sweetly ask, "can I tie you up?"

Ona nodded frantically, doing as she was told and not saying another word.

Lucy went round the room to pick up both their bras and some of Ona's pyjamas bottoms, before making her way back onto the bed.

Ona did her best to stay quiet under insanely difficult circumstances and Lucy crawled over her to tie her wrists to the bed frame with their bras, before bringing the trousers round the back of the younger girl's head.

Before she stuffed and tied the trousers she asked, "sure?" met with another rapid nod. "Kick or knee me if we need to stop."

With that, Lucy knotted the trousers over Ona's mouth to prevent her from making a peep.

"Now it’s time for me to show you what I can do with my mouth," Lucy said starting her kisses, sucks and licks at Ona's ankle, ready to work her way up her leg.

The Spaniard couldn't believe she wasn't allowed to make a sound and had to just sit back, arms tied above her, letting Lucy make her way agonisingly slowly up her leg. This was torture.

As Lucy's mouth brushed over Ona's hot pussy, the contrast of the older girl's cool breath forced her to cling onto the railings her hands were tied to.

The English girl pushed Ona's knees apart even further before burying her mouth in the Spaniard's folds.

Ona was desperate to make a noise and she knew she could through the gag but she also knew Lucy would be stubborn enough to put a stop to this if she did. All she could do was let her head fall back in bliss.

Lucy used her hands to grab under Ona's bum, pulling the pair impossibly close as she fucked her with her tongue.

It felt weird not having a hand in her hair to guide her, but luckily she could read Ona's hip movements well enough to know exactly what she needed at all times.

Grip firm to to stop her lover writhing around, she used her nose to rub against Ona's clit but it wasn't enough and the older girl knew it.

"Baby, touch yourself," Lucy whispered, barely audible over Beso still playing on a loop, as she unfastened Ona's right wrist.

Ona lowered her hand to her clit, rubbing around it with the exact pressure she needed.

Now there were 3 hands on Ona and it felt sensational, Lucy moving one of hers up to grip and massage Ona's boob.

The younger girl couldn't hold it in any longer, her orgasm rushing over her, giving her no choice but to let out a muffled scream.

Lucy carried Ona through her high, only slowing her tongue movements down when the younger girl took her hand away to push lightly on Lucy's head, the older girl taking the signal and turning to clean up mode instead.

As Lucy finished up she left a soft kiss on Ona's inner thigh before looking up at her fucked out girlfriend.

She kissed up Ona's chest and shoulder before removing the mouth restraint, then kissing softly up her arm to remove the final hand one.

Ona slumped down into the bed, shattered.

Lucy left a gentle kiss on Ona's cheek before collapsing next to her.

"You can speak now, bonita," Lucy said, wrapping her arm under Ona's back to pull the pair closer together.

The Spaniard rolled onto her side, head resting on Lucy's shoulder as she looked up at her.

"That was so insanely good but I really am sorry for blabbing about Lola," Ona said as she stroked up and down Lucy's bare torso. "I should have known how that would make you feel."

"It's ok, I know you didn't mean it to embarrass me," Lucy continued, "it's just they know Keira and I don't need it turning into gossip that impacts us and her next season."

They may be girlfriends and have confessed their love a million times but it still gave Ona a warm fuzzy feeling hearing Lucy refer to them as "us".

She kissed softly into the older girl's shoulder.

"It just annoyed me that this girl has been saying it as if you stopped her getting a job for no reason, especially when you weren't even asked," Ona said, showing irritation on Lucy's behalf.

"Let her, I honestly don't care. The people that need to know the truth, do," Lucy said, kissing Ona on the temple as she smoothed her hair down, grateful that she had someone in her corner, even if she did occasionally run her mouth.

"You need to teach me how to be a bit calmer," Ona said, eyes closing as her breathing became in sync with Lucy's.

"I literally punched your friend in the face less than two weeks ago," Lucy laughed.

Ona giggled too, "true, maybe we both need some lessons in party behaviour."

///