#object oc in drag series

[lainswardrobe]

topazdressperfumedrag

[thotsofadepravedwoman]

Serpentine Nights Ch 1,

Ridin’ with James Dean

Pairing: Benny Cross x Fem!Biker!OC

Fandom/Universe: The Bikeriders

Word count: 1105

Summary: As a last resort, Azzie calls in a favor to help keep her people safe.

Trigger warnings: smoking, drinking, this chapter takes place in the bar, borderline harassment, Its the late 60's what'd you expect?, this chapters' pretty tame. compared to the rest of the series.

Series masterlist Main masterlist

___

Lakeside Inn had always been dingy, clouded in smoke and smelling of bourbon. She had come to associate the unique electricity thrumming through the air from the loud music and rowdy patrons with home, the biker bar back home, owned by her father, had always been the same way. She had parked her bike, kicked down the kickstand, taken her gloves off, and popped a cigarette in her mouth before taking the few steps to cross the street and enter the bar.

She could tell they were in the middle of a meeting of sorts, the entire bar filled with bikers in their colors, the leather on her own back worn from years of wear and slightly sunbleached. The men around her looked at her, many catcalls were levied her way, and she wouldn't even want to know how many men were eyeing her backside with lust. She had a simple mission, one goal, one objective, and she would achieve it, even if it meant knocking a few heads.

“Hey there pretty thing,” she could nearly taste the alcohol on the mans breath, his obviously inebriated state leading to him slurring his words ever so slightly. “What's a girl like you doin’ in a place like this?” 

“I'm looking for Johnny.” her words came out blunt, but still twinged with her mothers southern accent. “Where might I find him?”

“What’d you wan’ with the big man?” a man beside the first one asked, his eyes beard bamp from what she could only assume was alcohol of some kind.

“That's none of your concern.” she had thrown an uninterested glare at the men blocking her path. “Either point me in his direction, or move so I can find him myself.” 

“Alright, alight. No need to get all feisty on us sweetheart.” The first one had slurred again, bringing his bottle of beer up to his lips, taking a swing while unabashedly raking her figure up and down with his eyes. 

She pushes past the two, shoulder checking both of them, the leather jacket on her arms shifting as she rolls her shoulders, scanning the bar for the dark hair and signature unimpressed grimace. She had spotted a few women inside the bar, the few she saw either hanging off of a biker's arm, or wearing a jacket herself. It took her a second to spot Johnny through the haze of smoke, but when she had found him, she wasted no time in making her way over, taking mental note of the few men he was sitting with.

Johnny had barely noticed her until she was a mere step or two away from the table, her eyes nearly blank, only a dark sense of emergency pulling at the hues in her eyes. He had barely recognized her, having not seen her in quite a few years, the last time being at her mothers funeral nearly 10 years ago. It had almost shocked Johnny to see her after all these years, a full grown woman dressed in her own jacket and not borrowing her fathers. 

“Well, look who we have here.” Johnny said, setting his glass of whisky down, sitting up a bit taller in his chair as he regarded the woman in front of him. “What bring you to-”

“We need to talk.” She hadn't even let him finish his sentence before she grabbed the only empty chair in the establishment, pushing herself in between two bikers, one with black hair, and the other with sandy blond hair, a look of surprise flashing across both males’ faces.

“Right to the point then,”Johnny took a drag from his cigarette, the burning end almost glowing in the low-light., “just like your father.”.

She didn't say anything, just continued to stare at Johnny as he stared back, her conviction almost startling her, where had that sweet little girl gone, the one that had almost cowarred behind her father. He had no clue, but he was interested to know where this new persona had come from. 

“What’d you need?”

“We need to talk.” Her words had conveyed enough of her intent, the blaze in her eye only deepening into a near glare. 

“Alright, alright.” Johnny waved the boys off, only the blond one next to her remaining stationary. “Yall go get a drink or somethin’.” 

She had looked over to the one still sitting next to her, her eyes determined as she looked back to Johnny with a quizzical look in her eye. 

“He stays.”

“My father is dying.” her words were concise, she had no time to dawdle and she knew it. 

“I'm sorry ‘bout that,” Johnny picked up his glass, downing the remainder of his drink in one fell swoop. “He's a good man.” 

“I'm calling in the favor.” she said. It didn't take long for the boy next to her to look over confused. His gaze flickering back and forth between her and Johnny. She was too young to have garnered any favors with Johnny, he could tell, but by the way Johnny had stiffened, his eyes growing concerned and determined, he knew something had to have gone down. 

“What’d you need?’ was all Johnny said as he stubbed out his cigarette. 

“Pigs’ll come circling, we’re gonna need some extra muscle.” the exchange was succinct, nearly formal as such few words were exchanged, yet each sentence carrying an heavy, near grave, importance. 

“We’ll ride out in the mornin’. Take Benny with ya back home till then.” Johnny had nodded towards the man next to her, his deep blue eyes scanning over her leather jacket. 

“Thank you.” That's all it took for her to stand, making eye contact with the blond man and walking out of the bar. She had gathered the man next to her as the Benny that Johnny had offered, seeing as he took out his riding gloves as he followed behind her, kicking the bar door closed with his boot. 

“Where we headed?” Benny had said, his gloves now on as he swung his leg over his bike, kickstarting it as he pulled the kickstand up. 

“North Indiana. Small town.” her words were short, as she kickstarted her own bike, the deep emerald green color standing out from the other bikes around her. 

“Can I atleast know your name before we hit the road?” he asked, his head tilted to look at the undeniably beautiful woman in the pulled her bike up next to his own. 

“You can call me Azzie.” was all she said before she pulled out, her bike roaring as she took off down the street with a barely perceptible smirk. 

[katyaromanoffpetrova]

Our goddess and savior: Natasha Romanoff

Katya is good at ending up in bad situations. Natasha is good at getting her out of them.

• Natasha Romanoff x Fem!OC • Wordcount: 1.7k • Warnings: descriptions of gore and an execution This is part of my series where I post small scenes I've written over the years that have never seen the light of day because they didn't fit into the story the way I wanted them to Masterlist

Do not repost my work as your own or translate my work!!

A/N: this one is for you @milfs69420

2010

Katya's wrists ached where the rope cut into them, a wooden pole digging into the valley between her shoulder blades. She tried to feel for the small knife hidden in the sleeve of her mission suit, but they'd successfully managed to strip her of all her weapons. There was nowhere to go, and her muscles were aching as she used the pole to keep herself up.

Fuck this mission. And fuck herself for messing it up once more. 

Maybe Natasha was right and she really was the worst best spy ever. Somehow, she always walked out with the correct information or the right person's heart pierced by her knife. But it was always after almost dying or getting hurt.

Right now, Katya found herself on the other side of a firing squad. About ten men patiently awaited orders to empty the magazines of their automatic weapons into her body. Behind them, a hundred more from their shitty organization gathered to watch the whole thing happen, like pathetic little sheep.

They were using her for propaganda and a demonstration of power. How nice. 

''Look,'' Katya sighed exasperatedly, using her last bit of energy to cover up her dread. If she was going out, she was going out with sass. ''I know I'm pretty, my girlfriend says so, but is the display really necessary?'' 

God, she could really use Natasha right about now, mere moments away from a possibly very shitty death. Imagine getting delivered back to SHIELD with hundreds of bullet holes in her body. 

A wave of guilt nearly brought her to her knees. That would leave her gorgeous girlfriend traumatized for sure.

''Yes.'' A short man in front of her answered. He barked orders at the firing squad earlier. Now he was slowly pacing back and forth, waiting for something. Katya wasn't sure what. His French accent annoyed her. ''You're an example.''

''Of beauty?'' She feigned an exaggerated smile. ''Thanks.''

''No. Of idiocy.'' He scoffed, stepping up to her. His creepy little eyes traveled up and down her body in disdain, as if he was bitter he didn't get to shoot her himself. ''Thought you were one of the best. The Ghost.'' 

Katya wasn't backing off—not that she could. She squinted at him when she spat out her code name. ''Yeah, well, I have a reputation of messing up.''

''Clearly.'' He smirked when he heard someone coming up to him, stretching out his arm to receive something. ''So, this is you paying the price for it.''

Dread swirled in Katya's gut as she watched him fiddle with the mysterious thing in his hand. He'd turned around and walked back to his men, so it wasn't clear what it was, but she had a bad, bad feeling about it. Worse than her upcoming death. ''What's that?''

Smugly, the man turned around, lifting and pointing the object at her. It was a video camera. ''I am going to film this, if that's alright with you? Give your friends something to remember you by.''

All the blood drained from Katya's face at once. Gone was her attitude.

She could handle dying. And she was pretty sure Fury would shield Natasha from ever seeing her destroyed body. But if this shitty little man got her death on video, he would dangle the footage over Natasha's head and use it to absolutely destroy her soul. 

Katya could handle dying, but she would not drag her girlfriend along with her.

''No. Don't,'' she said firmly, her whole body on edge. She wanted to snatch that recorder from his hand and throw it so hard against a wall that it shattered in a million pieces. But she was helpless, tied to this godforsaken wooden pole like a witch in the seventeenth century.

The man's smirk widened. ''Oh, someone's getting queasy.''

Katya's fingers curled into fists to keep her fearless composure. ''You can kill me all you want, but don't put it on tape. That's really not necessary.''

''Too bad.'' Slowly, he backed up, until he stood between the row of shooters. He was enjoying it, this asshole. He knew he had her on the edge of desperation. ''Any last words?'' When the red light on his recorder started to flicker, Katya knew it was too late.

''None meant for you.'' 

Defeated, accepting of her upcoming fate, she closed her teary eyes, leaning her head back against the pole. 

Death was fine by her. That wasn't the part she feared. But all Katya could think about was the people she'd leave behind. People who would actually care if she was gone now. 

Well, just one person, actually. Natasha. How heartbroken she'd be. She would never let another person get close again, give up on love forever. Maybe she'd run from the pain, give up on everything good she was achieving with SHIELD. All that growth, everything that made her into a human being again, gone. 

In this moment, though, there was nothing else to do but accept the situation. Dozens of soldiers, tightly tied to a pole, defenseless; Katya was stuck and utterly hopeless. 

''Guns ready!''

Nat, I love you. It's the only thing she could think of. I love you, I love you, and I'm so sorry I'm leaving you again. Please, forgive me. 

''And—''

His voice got cut off by a choking sound.

Katya's eyes flew open, disoriented and confused. Her heart raced in her chest as she followed the noise of the video recorder shattering on the floor to the man from before. 

A knife sat deeply lodged in his throat. Blood sprayed out of his artery, his mouth wide open as he fruitlessly clawed at his neck. But there was absolutely no fixing this. His knees instantly gave out, and in a mere five seconds, he was as dead as they could be.

Frantically, Katya looked around for the thrower, her savior. Although from the precision with which that knife was thrown, it could only be one person. The only one almost as good as her. 

The realization made her laugh, and she dropped her head back against the pole once more. This time with a wide smile on her lips. 

''Always the dramatic entrance, darling!''

Like she was in the walls, Natasha's chuckle echoed all around. The dozens of aimless men in front of Katya were spinning hopelessly in their spot, raising their guns, trying to find her, but Natasha was nowhere to be found. The shadows loved her as much as the setting sun loved her orange hair. 

A horrifying humming filled the space, a slow tune which made neckhairs rise and skin crawl. Something straight out of a horror movie. ''You look so pretty tied up, baby.''

Despite the situation, Katya felt her smile morph into a sly smirk. She shifted restlessly, eager to get out of these ties now that rescue was near. ''Then why don't you come down here and help yourself?''

''I am here, baby.''

She jumped six figurative feet in the air, her wrists painfully sliding across the rough wood from the pole. Natasha's voice sounded from right behind her, where she had never expected it. ''Jesus!''

''Close your eyes,'' Natasha muttered, her mouth close to Katya's ear.

''Why—'' A loud shriek left her lips. The sound of a million gunshots bounced off the walls of the warehouse, amplified by the bare concrete and metal support beams holding the place up. It was deafening. If it weren't for the hands covering her ears, Katya feared she may have had a ringing in her ears for a week. 

Her eyes closed all on their own as—what must be—SHIELD STRIKE teams laid down fire upon everyone in the room. Natasha must have brought them with her when she realized what the situation was like. Katya recognized an execution when she heard one. She couldn't say she hated this one. Something about karma. 

The noise abruptly died out. Safe for some rattling of empty bullet shells, the warehouse was completely silent after Natasha took her hands away. The dozen, quick-moving, heavy footsteps that moved in on the very dead crowd were mere whispers compared to the thunderstorm from before.

Natasha sighed, stepping in front of Katya with a disappointed yet amused shake of her head. It was probably the near-death experience, but Katya had never seen anything more beautiful than this. Was this what religious people saw when Jesus came to them in a dream? ''You really did it this time. A firing squad.''

Katya grinned, trying not to focus on all the dead bodies behind her girlfriend. The relief she felt was indescribable. Natasha saved her life once again. ''Impeccable timing, honey.''

''I let you sweat a bit. Was here, like, fifteen minutes ago.'' Natasha shrugged, pulling another knife from her thigh to cut the rope with. 

She pretended not to see the murderous glare Katya sent her as she disappeared behind her again, because that was such a dick move, to try and teach her a lesson by almost letting her get murdered. It wouldn't even work, because Katya just kept ending up in these situations, even if she tried to be more careful. Especially then.

''Hey, what were you thinking about right before I treated that guy to my knife?'' Natasha knowingly asked as she cut away at the rope around Katya's wrists. ''You had that frown on your face.''

They both knew she did that dramatic mental goodbye, but Katya refused to give in to the teasing. Relieved, she brought her hands to her chest when they were freed, rubbing her raw wrists. ''Thinking about the chicken I had for dinner. It was very good.''

''Mhm,'' the redhead hummed skeptically. She returned to Katya's front to cut away the rope around her ankles, tossing her hair over her shoulder before she crouched down.

''And about how sexy you look in your mission suit.'' Katya's eyes lit up, risking everything by staring at Natasha's cleavage while the woman had a very sharp knife very close to her Achilles heel. This top view just did wonders for her chest. ''By the way, that knife and the psycho tint after? Incredibly hot.''

Natasha smirked, her gaze flickering up to Katya's. ''I thought you'd like it.''

Like? Katya had nearly crumbled on the spot. ''Baby, I think once you cut me loose, my knees might give in on me.'' She chuckled humorlessly.

Somehow, Natasha looked excited by that fact. ''I'll have to carry you then.''

[lefluoritesys]

We all know that introjects are supposed to be loved and cared for, and they deserve all the good things like the rest of the system.

But I've noticed some shoutouts were missing. So:

Shoutout to introjects who are both fictives and factives of one person (from your fellow fictive & factive of one person).

Shoutout to introjects who are both fictives and factives of multiple people/sources.

Shoutout to introjects who have multiple sources that are completely unrelated to each other.

Shoutout to introjects of OCs and DnD characters.

Shoutout to introjects of mainstream/popular media.

Shoutout to introjects of people the system knew personally IRL.

Shoutout to introjects of abusers in the system's life that are trying to heal.

Shoutout to nonhuman introjects that were also nonhuman in source (and are often considered "horrifying" or "scary").

Shoutout to introjects that have a source but are still brainmade by like a half at least.

Shoutout to introjects from anime.

Shoutout to introjects from movies/series.

Shoutout to introjects from books.

Shoutout to introjects of inanimate objects.

Shoutout to introjects who are scared of telling others they're introjecrs because of the hate and stigma the DID/OSDD community still has, especially against factives.

Shoutout to introjects whose roles make absolutely no sense to others but perfect sense to the system.

Shoutout to trans introjects.

Shoutout to introjects who change their names.

Shoutout to introjects in median/OSDD-1a systems/subsystems.

Shoutout to introjects with multiple/countless doubles of their source.

Shoutout to introjects who are scared to interact with their sourcemates.

Shoutout to introjects who miss their sourcemates and want the brain to split them. Or find other systems with fictives of their sourcemates.

Shoutout to introjects who are families/friends/partners with introjects from other completely different sources.

Shoutout to introjects with different nationalities/races than the body, whether they want to learn about that culture or not.

Shoutout to introjects who face discrimination and/or hatred for their race/nationality being different than the body's, either from other people or their own system.

Shoutout to introjects who drag the system to learn a new language because they want to feel closer to their source.

Shoutout to introjects with families/friends/partners with brainmade alters.

Shoutout to introjects with source trauma and/or memories that trigger them.

Shoutout to introjects with source trauma and/or memories they don't identify with but it still affects them in some way.

Shoutout to introjects who are indifferent to their source trauma and/or memories.

Shoutout to introjects without source trauma and/or memories.

Y'all are loved, cared for, respected, and acknowledged. If not by other people, then on this blog. You are all valid and welcome on our blog, you deserve to exist, and whoever tells you otherwise should be punched in the face.

-sexual persecutor-caretaker

[nrdmssgs]

The dropouts (part 3)

Masterlist

Part 1 I Part 2 I you are here I Part 4 I Part 5 I Part 6

Genre: Angst, hurt/comfort, action, slow burn.

Pairing: Olga 'Zhar' Samoilova (OC) x Nikto

Summary: Nikto accidentally finds his way into Chimera

TWs: This whole series will be revolving around a person living with an acute dissociative disorder. Mention of an act of self harming. Swearing.

Weeks of an aimless wandering around turn into months. Of course Nikto is still much present in every major KorTac operation, he even keeps signing for private gigs, still going with the flow. But he is constantly somewhere else, deep in his thoughts. Sometimes he replays his last meeting with Zhar for hours, sometimes he just drowns in almost rhetorical questions.

What was that he wanted from her? Is there anything, people like them even can share with each other?

On rare occasions, their paths with the Chimera cross. Even more rarely does Nikto see their second in command. Each time she’s on the move elsewhere, surrounded by her men, in the middle of a conversation, too busy to notice him. He himself doesn’t help it, keeping a good distance between them, wanting to see Zhar, but not daring to stand in her way.

Scars on his arms multiply. Nikto can’t do anything about it. Not all of his voices actually heard of that woman, but those who did are painfully unanimous with their hysteria when it comes to her. The only way to make them forget about her for some time is to break his own skin and push and cut until they howl in pain.

It’s true that despite his condition, Nikto is still in control of his body, he’s a deadly opponent, a highly skilled soldier. But this has its cost, and with Zhar's appearance the cost skyrocketed. He keeps going in circles from managing his mental state to maintaining his duties, until they meet again.

***

It is a wide scale operation: KorTac mobilized its best soldiers and provided each with the finest gear. But what really sparks Nikto's interest was König's commentary at the briefing.

“Chimeras are also awaited. If you meet them - just let their units do their thing, we have different objectives, but we all win if nobody interferes in other's business.”

***

Nikto receives last reports from his squad mates and waits for the Colonel to command all their groups to return to their transports, when a chain of explosions rolls down the next street, each one sending up a plume of smoke and fire. The ground trembles beneath him, the concussive force of the blasts rattling his bones. For a moment, Nikto freezes and watches in awe as the shockwaves shatter windows, sending shards of glass raining down onto the empty street.

“Tired again?” Nikto would recall Firebrands voice in any choir of voices. This is a friend, a safe person. Nikto turns around, but someone grabs his shoulder and pulls him unto the nearest alleyway that offers a semblance of cover. His friend's voice dissolves in clouds of dust and cacophony of sounds of destruction.

Nikto darts forward after the man, that dragged him away from the open sight, and recalls Krueger's military patches and the tactical net.

“The hell you forgot on Chimeras worksite?” Krueger's breath comes in short, ragged gasps. He peeks around the corner, not letting go of Nikto.

“Not that you have put a sign over your part of a playground,” a missile flies over the alley with a whistle so loud, Nikto has to make a pause “What’s going on?”

They both crouch and scurry between vehicles that got flipped like toys. From pieces of Krueger's barks, mixed with swearing in three languages simultaneously, Nikto can only make out something about the final stage of their operation going south. It doesn’t help that Krueger seems to have his lip split, as he constantly pauses to spit out the blood.

After taking a few turns and leaving the destructed street with burning car carcasses far behind, they finally emerge from the cloud of dust. Echoes of distant destruction noises still reach them, when they enter a two-story building that the Chimeras use as their temporary shelter. Nikto feels concerned gazes glued to his figure in an instant and hopes, that Krueger's reassurance will keep things from escalation. They go up to the second floor, make their way to the far corner of the hall, when a low grumbling voice reaches their ears.

“You were supposed to come back with my SIC, Krueger. Last I checked - she didn't look like this.” 

Nikto turns back and faces a tall dark haired man. His face expression remains unreadable due to aviator glasses hiding his eyes and a cigarette in his mouth.

“She specifically commanded me to retreat alone!” Krueger wants to tell the man something else, but has to stop to spit out the blood.

“There is a reason why Zhar is the second in command! That reason be me, her bloody boss! What I say - goes!!” 

Nikto heard about Chimeras commander before, but this is the first time he actually sees the notorious Nikolai. Maybe he should worry about Nikolai's clear irritation about the fact, that a stranger stepped in his quarters. Maybe he should worry about Krueger gradually toning up every next phrase in an unraveling fight with Nik. Maybe. But everything Nikto cares about is what he heard about Zhar. She's left behind, although Krueger was supposed to bring her back? The hell is going on in this company if they can't work out their own hierarchy? But most importantly.

Why are they wasting their time arguing, while she is somewhere out there alone?

“I'll extract her!” Adrenaline kicks in and doesn't let Nikto analyze his own spontaneous will, before these words leave his lips. 

Nikolai and Krueger fall silent and turn to him.

“You? Waste time saving my soldier? What would your Colonel say?” Nik smirks, puffing smoke him in the face. Nikto is not surprised, this man knows about his commander, after all Nikolai has quite a reputation of a guy who always knows a guy.

“He doesn't have to know if I make it quick enough. Just point me in the right direction and tell me, what am I about to face.” Nikto actively ignores other soldiers gathering around them, waiting for Nikolai's response.

“You have twenty minutes to make our girl happy - after that, we opt to other, more radical means of extraction.” Nikolai reaches out for a handshake, and Nikto catches his hand.

***

Olga crouches low on the roof of a small, dilapidated building, her breath coming in shallow, controlled gasps. She can hear the voices of her enemies below as they systematically search the area. It's only a matter of time until they discover her. Every beat of her heart is now just a countdown until the inevitable. She presses herself flat against the roof, hoping the smoke and rubbish scattered across the roof would cloak her presence. Her mind races, calculating escape routes and potential strategies.

“Didn't survive my ass getting burnt to end it all here. Didn't live through all the missions going sideways to give up now.” Zhar mutters, feeling the cold metal of her weapon pressed reassuringly against her side. However, she knows that a firefight against such odds would be suicide.

“Didn't survive meeting that-” She falls silent, when a movement catches her eye. 

Through the gaps in the crumbling roof, she sees a figure emerging from the darkness, moving with lethal precision. The newcomer is clad in a pressure suit, but Zhar already knows, this one hasn't been ejected from a fighter plane. Because she already saw this strange uniform twice. This and the mask, leaving his victims nothing but a cold shine of a blizzard roaring in his eyes.

Before she can fully process what is happening, the soldier strikes. With brutal efficiency, he dispatches her pursuers one by one, their muffled cries cut short by swift, lethal blows. He moves like a shadow, his actions quick and silent, leaving no room for retaliation.

Olga's breath catches in her throat as she watches the scene unfold. Her shoulders flinch with every his blow. She has more than a dozen years of experience, yet a cold fear grips her by the throat. Somehow, this man feels worse than being burnt alive. And as the last soldier falls and Nikto's figure straightens, his eyes scanning the area, Zhar realizes with a jolt of terror that he is looking for her next.

She fights off the urge to stand up and run and clutches her weapon tighter. Olga would swear on anything that right now she remains unseen for him, but some animalistic feeling nudges him exactly in her direction. 

Nikto scales the side of the building with a predator's agility, and within moments, he is on the roof. Zhars's heart pounds louder, her pulse a deafening roar in her ears. But despite the all-consuming fear, she raises her gun.

He searches for her in a dense smoke covering the roof. Olga holds her breath and exhales only when his eyes meet hers.

“It's you or me again,” she thinks and fires a warning shot.

Nikto flinches and for a moment Zhar believes, she somehow managed to hurt him despite clearly aiming a good two meters away from him. But before her concern get confirmed, he does the last thing, she could have expected - he slowly raises his hands.

"I'm not here to hurt you," Nikto says, his gaze glued to Olga's face. "Nikolai sent me. Told me, where to find you."

Zhar curses under her breath. As crazy as this sounds - it's in the very Nikolai's nature to improvise in search for solutions of emergency problems. As much as she doesn't want to trust Nikto - his words sound like a truth. 

"Why should I believe you?" she manages to say, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Because," Nikto's hand slowly descends to his face, "if I was to kill you - I would do shoot you from the next roof. It's easier this way: faster, less fuss with the extras."

“Only when it comes to me - you have this funny tendency to opt to the steel arms.” Zhar points her gun at him. “Now stop moving, before I eased you of your right hand.”

“You can take everything.” Despite Olga's command, he reaches for the straps connecting his mask to the rest of the uniform and loosens them. “Two knives on the back, another two at the front, two pistols. Take everything. And if I give you even the smallest reason - one shot in my face would be enough.”

She watches him undoing his mask in silence. Visually it doesn't make a big difference because he wears a balaclava under it. Olga realizes, that this gesture is aimed more for his comfort, as a bullet fired in the mask may turn it into dozens of small pieces piercing his skull. But something about Nikto taking off his mask just to earn a drop of her trust feels disarming. 

Zhar tries to not think about the vulnerability, Nikto brought himself into, when she steps closer to take his weapons. He stands completely still as she opens his holsters, obediently waiting for her to check every pocket. He only lets out a quite sharp inhale, when Olga's hand leaves a feather-light touch against his face. Guilt stings Zhar as soon as she hears that: as if it wasn't enough that he already gave her that much control.

“Sorry. Need to make sure, you're not delirious. I'll return your stuff, when we are back at Chimeras disposition.”

On their way back, both Zhar and Nikto stay silent: too much going on around them, too little reasons to talk. Each of them secretly debates if it would be reasonable to thank the other for being more or less cooperative, but nobody finds a strength to break the silence.

Olga visibly transforms as soon as they enter the Chimeras hideaway: something about the way she walks, carries and places herself around shifts, becomes colder and harder. She maneuvers between other soldiers, not paying any attention to Nikto anymore. He even thinks, that if he were to sneak away right now - she wouldn't notice. For some reason, this idea irritates him.

“Nikolai! Care to explain, since when do we hire KorTac people?!” Her voice, low and grumbly catches a few soldiers off guard, but Nikolai keeps his unbothered face expression, not even turning back to Zhar.

“Since my second in command gives orders that intentionally conflict with mine.” Nikolai finally turns back to them and notices all the extra ammunition in Olga's hands. “Olya, be nice, give the poor guy his trinkets back - he saved you after all.”

She hisses something unintelligibly and finally turns to Nikto just when he is done readjusting his mask back. Zhar leads him to the nearest table and lays out his knives, guns and magazines on the table. Then she freezes for a moment and shakes her head. Nikto doesn't want to interrupt whatever is going on in her head, so he just silently observes as she changes swaps two knives and frowns. He just takes the slightest step closer to her, just in case she would like to tell him anything, that is not meant for any other ear. Nevertheless, she stays silent and swaps a gun and a knife. 

“Everything alright?” He asks and Olga raises her gaze at him. She looks lost.

“Yes. I just... There was something else, wasn't it? First it was this knife, then this one… Ah, fuck it.” She unstraps one of the holsters from her vest and puts another knife in the row.

And only then does he understand: she is trying to remember everything that she must return to him, arranging things in the order in which she took them. It's been a damn long day for her, she needs a rest, so her nerves are playing against her right now.

“Hey, it's ok. We are fine,” he starts calming her down and for the smallest moment, not longer than a few seconds, she closes her eyes and visibly relaxes. “We two are fine. You're fine.”

If he could, he would pat her back, give her any reassuring touch. But Nikto is not out of his mind. At least not to this point. So he stays still, watching her coming back to normal and turning to face him.

“Alright then. Thank you. Solid work back there,” she blurts out in one breath and disappears somewhere deep in the hall among other Chimeras.

Nikto stands still with eyes still fixated on the place, where he saw her last second, for some time until Nikolai's voice brings him back to reality.

“So, now that you, charmer, made so many friends among my Chimeras - you can call it a day. Give König my regards.”

Nikto realizes, this means ‘goodbye’ or, more realistically, ‘get the f out of our place, so we can keep working’. Only he doesn't want this all to end like that. He wants more. He deserves more.

The idea appears in his head so fast, it feels like an insight. Nikto doesn't let it sit for too long before he starts regretting getting it.

“Nikolai? Hire me.”

“I'm not interested in stealing KorTac peop-” Nik follows the direction of his gaze and stops short. “Or you have anything that might interest me?”

“Short-term work. I can teach your people how to survive long captures.” Nikto feels as everything within him already hates this idea, but keeps talking.

“I heard about you and Zakhaev. But I'm wondering, who survived his long capture? The one who literally calls himself ‘Nobody’?” Nikolai cannot deny himself the pleasure of teasing Nikto, knowing full well what he really wants.

“One of the best KorTac soldiers, one of the most high paid mercenaries in Europe and the Middle East. The one, who made your SIC happy in less than 20 minutes.”

“I'd dispute on the last one.” Nik chuckles. “But I'm willing to give you another shot. Maybe you need a full evening. I'll contact you later.”

[luniellar]

Breathe Me (Garrick Tavis X OC/Reader) - Chapter 2 - The Empyrean Series Fanfiction

When Xaden Riorson and Garrick Tavis arrive at Samara, they are forced to prove themselves all over again. When Xaden heads off to see Violet at Basgiath since their dragons are mated, Garrick finds himself alone in this unfamiliar area trying to get his name established navigating fights and ambushes. He owed his life to the man.

One particular night when Xaden leaves for Basgiath, Garrick finds himself with a new company. One who starts turning his world upside down and giving him something, that isn't just the Xaden and rebellion, to fight for. ______________________________________

All rights to Rebecca Yarros for her original work and original characters. My scenes and characters are my own. ______________________________________

Contains: Iron Flame Spoilers Warnings: Language

Chapters: 1 | 2

Read on AO3 | Wattpad

Author Note: As I'm writing this (February 2024), Garrick's signet is not revealed in Iron Flame. For this story, I followed my theory about Garrick's signet which is Near Sight (opposite of Liam's Far Sight). Near sight can easily recognize emotion changes, whatever emotion someone displays Garrick will pick up. This also relates to his dragon (Chradh) who is able to locate certain objects and is sensitive to runes. Garrick uses this to quickly learn who is trustworthy and gain information about people's true intentions making him a strong asset and an exceptional fighter.

Chapter 2: The Feelings

< Garrick Tavis >

The sun from the morning was nowhere to be found and the clouds were looking seriously ominous today. Temperamental like this guy, I glanced over at Xaden and his expressionless face from the hard floor of the outdoor sparring field. Something was definitely on his mind. My first guess would be Violet related. 

I welcomed the breeze against my shirtless, overheating body as my mind wandered off to what Lei was up to. Her smile from the morning flashed across my mind and I exhaled. Maybe it was her hair? I knew that most female riders kept their hair short, braided, or tied up to keep it from getting caught, but Lei’s ponytail was long enough and always swaying from side to side, like it was tempting me to grab. Oh gods, I shouldn’t have thought that. 

From the side, Xaden threw a clean towel that landed directly on my face, dragging me out of my thoughts. Right, this was supposed to be a quick break before another set. “Thanks,” I muttered as I grabbed it and wiped the dripping sweat across my face. 

“Riorson!” A familiar voice called out, full of disgust with each syllable. Tightening my core, I peeled my upper body off the mat and saw that bitch from last night. Fuck, what was his name again? 

Lei’s sharp, venomous tone saying his name last night replayed in my mind. “Move along, Pratt.” 

Oh yeah, Pratt. 

I looked up to see Xaden turned towards him with a blank face across the field. He didn’t answer, he just stared. Then a second later, Xaden looked over at me and was that worry that just flashed across his face? Pressing his lips together, he looked towards Pratt’s direction again.

Did Xaden know Pratt? Maybe he was an old friend? I could see the gears turning in his head staring at the blonde boy. 

“Where the fuck were you last night?” Pratt shouted. 

I scoffed and shouted back at him. He didn’t even have the courage to walk closer to us. “Damn, Pratt. I don’t think you wanted an audience to witness your ass getting whooped.” 

“I would keep your thoughts to yourself if I were you,” Pratt said my name in the same disgust he did with Xaden’s. “Your days at Samara are getting shorter with each word.” What the fuck was his deal?

Before I could quip back, Pratt looked directly at me. “Oh and leave Lei alone. She isn’t into dirty traitors like you two.” Pratt walked off with his “friends” trailing behind him. Two of the guys behind him moved with uncomfort and I could immediately identify they were the same boys from last night. 

“Watch your back, Garrick. He plays dirty.” Xaden replied. From the tone of his voice I knew that it wasn’t a guess, it was a statement. 

“Good, I like it dirty anyways.” I muttered back, my body making a dense thud against the hard floor surface as I dropped in exhaustion. 

✦ ✦ ✦

Xaden and I managed to keep the score even until the very end. Maybe it was the years of training we did together and how we knew each other better than we knew ourselves? Every move I threw at the guy, he managed to block. Thanks to my signet I was able to see the way his eyes moved before a punch or a jab and countered each step. But, he was still able to get a good punch on my jaw right when my mind was starting to wander off. 

Chradh loved reminding me how I should be paying attention whenever Xaden broke through my concentration like that. 

“Lei! Can you help?” A voice called out on our way to the showers and my head immediately turned. I scanned the fields until I saw Lei running over to another rider with short blonde hair reaching down to pick up buckets off the floor. I made eye contact with the blonde rider’s green eyes. Her eyes widened and immediately tilted her head up at Lei, her eyes moving in my direction. She clearly knew me, but I didn’t know her. Shortly after Lei turned in my direction. 

Her shiny, dark as night ponytail tossed above her shoulders. The shorter strands of hair fell into place, framing around her round rosy cheeks. I couldn’t turn my eyes away from her as I stood there watching. The short haired rider said something to Lei and after a quick nod, Lei jogged over. 

“Hey! Do you have an outpost shift tonight?” She asked when she reached me. Her scent filled the space between us. I held my breath knowing that I could just drink her up. 

I nodded. “It’s mine this time around.” 

“Great,” she gave me a gentle smile. She opened her mouth to say something, but glanced behind her looking back at the green eyed rider who was struggling to carry two buckets in each hand. “Oh gosh, Iris! Wait!” Lei turned to me. “I’ll catch you later, okay?”

Before I could reply, she turned and jogged back. I felt a hand hit my bare back. 

“Do me a favor and remember to breathe,” Xaden sighed, walking ahead of me. 

✦ ✦ ✦

Fuck, this outpost was so small. The moment I showed up for the shift, Lei was already in here marinating every corner of this space with her delicious scent. Thank gods there was a breeze blowing tonight circulating the air around us. Her warm vanilla scent stirred around me. I’ll need to ask Xaden about an olfactory dampening rune next week. 

That’s going to be a fun conversation. Chradh said amusingly.   

The conversation started with us catching up on what we did during the day. I learned that Iris, the short haired blonde who I briefly saw earlier today, was her closest friend here. I told her about Xaden and the bond we shared for many years. You would have to be blind to not see our rebellion relics. So I told her what I could without bringing up Aretia or the impeding doom Xaden carried on his shoulders. Lei carefully watched my expressions, smiling and encouraging when appropriate, She always made she didn’t step outside her boundaries.

I asked about her signet and she told me that it was a form of distance wielding. She wasn’t sure if she could do long distance wielding because her power burns out when channeled for a long time. It surged quickly in powerful consecutive bursts. When mentors said she drew the short end of the stick, she learned to hone the power to her advantage. She could shorten distances so fast that it gives off the illusion that she was teleporting in short distance increments. They must have had their head stuck up in their ass not to see how lethal she could be.

For the most part, it sounded like she trained on her own. Last year was when she learned that she could travel more than just her surrounding areas only if she could paint in her mind where exactly she needed to go. I made a mental note to ask her if she wants to join us on a sparring session one day. She had so much potential in that small body of hers and I wanted to see more.

Near the end of our shift, I built up courage to ask her. “Um,” I started. “Can I ask you a personal question?” 

“What’s on your mind, Garrick?” She smiled, tilting her head to the side. 

“How does someone like you end up knowing a guy like Pratt anyways?” I asked cautiously. I watched her gentle smile drain from her face, like a sad memory was dragging her back down. Her blue irises trembled with hesitation as she held my gaze. 

“We were engaged,” she started, looking ahead at the mountains. “We met as a part of a political alliance. I don’t come from wealth or power, Garrick. I come from a small, insignificant island in the Emerald Sea.” She lowered her head.

Like Xaden and Cat. Power was never something I craved. Sure, I saw the allure of it. But when you watched public executions of hundreds, including your family, for challenging power, you learn survival is more important. You do everything you can do to survive. You survive to remember each name, each story, and each face as a big fuck you. Maybe I was like Lei, I just didn’t like bullies. 

One of the many reasons I chose you, Big One. Chradh echoed with pride in my mind. 

Lei let out a soft exhale. “When I was 10, my father realized that the island resources were finite and started inviting aristocrats from the Continent to create trade routes. Pratt’s family was the first to visit. Within days of them leaving, his family made us an offer for an arranged betrothal under the condition that I survive the Threshing when I turned 20.”

“Threshing?” My voice rose in anger and my hands curled into fists. “Lei, you could have died! Did your family know how dangerous that was?! Pratt gave you a fucking death sentence!” I broke my composure. Why was I so angry? 

She laughed a short, gentle laughter turning back to me. “Honestly, no. No one knew about the Threshing where I was from. Riders and dragons were stories that I only heard from elders in the island when I was growing up. Myths and legends with heroes, not a girl from an island somewhere.” She paused, muscles around her eyes tenses and her eyes were focused like she was calling for Cosheirm in her mind. 

I watched as she found her peace again. Cosherirm, the word for harmony. Lei found her harmony through Cosheirm. Her pale skin against the stark contrast of her dark as night hair. She was beautiful. 

“But Garrick, if I was given the decision again knowing what I know, I will always take the path to Cosheirm. Even if I wasn’t guaranteed that Cosheirm would choose me again.” Her determination was so strong that I could see an aura of confidence cloaked her body like a glowing shield. She was glowing.

“Lei,” I started and she got up from her wooden seat. 

There were sounds of footsteps coming from the outside. “It looks like the next patrols will be coming soon. Come on, I’ll walk you back.”

✦ ✦ ✦

"You have to admit. If this walking to my bedroom becomes a regular occurrence, people are going to start talking." I said as we headed toward my barrack for a second night in a row.

"You need to check that masculinity, Garrick. I can help if you need more practice getting down on your knees again," she shrugged.

Oh, we were on a joking basis now. 

"Hey, I'm not complaining. I've done it plenty of times, the whole escorting and getting on the knee thing... for other reasons," I glanced down to be greeted by her rosy cheeks. "I was just saying that I could get used to this."

It was Lei's looked flustered as she cleared her throat. "Anyone who sees us is going to think you're taking me to your room. We can stick to that story if you're worried about what people say. Deal?"

"Oh, I give zero shits about what anyone thinks about me, Lei. I just didn't know that was what you wanted others to think about us," I teased. 

An audible groan came from Lei. "Garrick, you're impossible."

 

✦ ✦ ✦

Wake, Big One. 

I rolled over in my bed, my eyes still closed. What’s wrong, Chradh? 

I sense something unfamiliar in the south clearing of outside of Samara. In the pit of stomach, I felt it too. I’ve felt this before.

Before Chradh could finish, my body was already up. I quickly got dressed and strapped on my rider leather. I walked over to the doorway and grabbed the two swords propped against my desk. In the same motion I’ve been doing for years, I crossed them on my back.

Wyverns. And I sense a venin, Big One. 

[just-some-guy-joust]

Just Some Guy OC Tourney - Side B: Round 1

Rules:

do NOT be mean to anyone or any characters in these polls. you MUST clarify if you are joking/teasing or you will be blocked. if you are someone who entered an oc into this and you are mean to other contestants you will be disqualified

do NOT claim a character doesn't deserve to be here. yes including your own. be nice

if you are posting propaganda you have to tag us, including if your propaganda is in the reblogs. it is difficult to tell when something is or isn't propaganda. anything not tagging us will likely be missed

please don't hesitate to let me know if i messed something up!

have fun, hype each other up <3 thank you

Professor Morelle Da Capo | She/her | @kira-moonrabbit

CW: The source, Lobotomy Corporation, has a large list of content warnings. This character by herself though is fine

Robotwoman who is famous for being dedicated. She works 24/7. Her hobbies include "logging everyone's opinions about her" and "standing still thinking about bicycles"

~

Chester Mallory | He/Him | @liliflower137

CW: Memory loss, loss of limb, temporary death

Chester is a twitch streamer and freelance programmer. The multiverse keeps dropping wild adventures on his lap but man he just wants to kiss his husband, cook some food for his friends, and take a damn nap.

Promos: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1863709

~

Full images and descriptions under the cut!

Professor is a machine who was built to replace employees! Well, a prototype that failed that they put to work. Her robotic-ness serves not to reduce her Just-Some-Guyness, but rather to amplify it. She logs everything that happens to her. She loves to partake in tasks and objectives. However this does not mean she is an emotionless beep-boop, but instead she has the personality of a tired but kind old lady. The kind who has an endless supply of caramels in a bowl somewhere. However she has no idea how to form her own preferences. She's factory default in everything. Plain as water. She sees the hells of being in lobcorp as normal and natural. One time she went to another branch and was absolutely delighted by a "hang in there, baby!" poster as though it was the cutest thing she's ever seen.

Chester Wayne Mallory is an hlvrai player oc who came out of his half life vr experience with a missing arm, a patchy memory, and a boyfriend. Life has been wild for him ever since and he's just been dragged along for the ride, usually hiding in the back and hoping whatever existential horror coming after his friends this week doesn't beat him up or mind control him too bad. He's just a normal human after all.

[ptolomia]

Poison Either Way - Chapter 1

Summary: Ivory “Ivy” Demetrius, daughter of Demeter, member of the Avengers, and Bucky Barnes’ sworn enemy. Could a two week mission in Milan mend their relationship or will it open old wounds and tear them further?

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Asian!OC/Reader

Series warnings: Canon Typical Violence, war, blood, gore, death.

Chapter warnings: Flashbacks, Angst, Bucky being cruel, Bucky calls Ivy a bitch, No beta we die like Loki.

A/N: The flashback is italicised to make the reading experience smoother. Message me to be added to the taglist! Happy Reading🫶

Fury had called, instructing me to pack my things for an international mission. Though begrudgingly, I prepared for the worst, packing as lightly as I could. I sighed when I realised how late it was. Rushing into my car I made sure to inform my friend, Allie I was dropping off my cat, Salem. Once she was taken care of I began speeding to the tower.

“There ‘ya are, Ivy,” Bucky’s accent pricked at my ears. As I slipped off the elevator. “What do you want, Barnes?” the words came out with more venom than I’d intended. “Nothin’ Fury told me to come find you, he’s ready to brief us.” he says lazily.

“Avengers, you’re tasked with infiltrating the bases of a new criminal organisation called INDIGO. Your goal is to confiscate their replicas of Dr. Banner’s Hulk serum, our inside sources dictate that they’re using the radiation to create mutants set to destroy SWORD. This will allow soldiers of Thanos onto earth. Your mission will span two weeks as you will cover 1 of 3 international bases each. Ivy, you will be paired with Barnes in Milan, Roger’s and Wilson will be going to California, While Romanov and Barton handle Russia. Is this clear?” Fury’s words left me appalled. Me, and Bucky? How am I meant to spend weeks in Italy with that him? I open my mouth to object but my mouth runs dry. With a raised eyebrow Nick turns and disappears into the shadows.

As I walk up the stairs of our jet I can’t help but remember how cheerful everyone else was. Natasha and Clint boarded their flight joking about their days in budapest while Sam and Steve walked side by side. It was bizarre, there I was sitting on a private jet, across from the only person on the team I despised. I would’ve been perfectly happy with anyone but him, and still. Fury stuck me with him in a misguided attempt to soften our relationship. He’s wrong, there is no “softening” my relationship with Bucky, not after what he said about me, not after he shattered my soul.

Hungary - 2018

My first international mission, I was paired with Bucky and I couldn’t’ve been happier. I’d been harbouring a feelings for him for months. The weeks we spent together had allowed hope to bloom in my chest. I began thinking that romance was blossoming between us. That was until the pinnacle of our mission came.

We’d successfully made it into HYDRA’s Hungarian base, taking down several of their agents before their tech room erupted in flames. The grenade they had set off filling my lungs with smoke. I scrambled to find Bucky, he had to be here somewhere, he was my partner after all. He had to be here!

Jumping through the broken glass I stumbled down the hallway, opening all of the doors before fire could engulf them. I had to find him damn it! My patience wore thin as I reached the end of the hall, one last door, one last chance to find him before we burnt to death.

I jumped into the office, relieved to find Bucky sprawled on the couch by the balcony. I held him up, dragging us to the balcony where Sam could easily see us and send help our way.

In the helicopter I held onto him, “Ivy, please.” he said squeezing my hand lightly. Using my powers, I asked the medic to let me mend the gash on his forehead. He looked up at me, smiling lightly as i started to pinch his skin back together. I hadn’t noticed the way my venom slowly seeped into him. It wasn’t until the all familiar seizing began that I realised what I’d just done. I held him tight, stilling him as the medic injected him with an antitoxin.

When he came to we were in a hospital room, 5 hours later. When he gained the strength to open his eyes he practically leered at me, “What did you do you bitch?!” his words pierced straight through my heart. “Bucky liste-” he cut me off immediately, “No! Why would I listen to you? You almost killed me! I trusted you and you poisoned me!” he said, his hands still shaking. He yelled at me, instructing me to leave immediately, so I did, abandoning the flora of hope that blossomed within me alongside him.

The memory left as Bucky snapped his fingers at me. I looked up at him, raising an eyebrow wordlessly. “What’s got you twisted?” he asked unamused. “Nothing, I was just thinking about all the ways I’m gonna make this mission miserable for you.” I smiled, masking the ache in my chest. “Yeah? Try not to kill me this time, that way you have someone to keep miserable.” He rolled his eyes at me, standing to get a drink.

[karahalloway]

Thanksgiving - Part 3

Fandom: TRR - (Un)Common Attraction universe

Pairing: Drake Walker x F!OC (Harper Gale)

Series: Thanksgiving

Synopsis: Harper and Drake fly to Bozeman, MT to spend their first Thanksgiving together with Harper’s family. 

Word count: 6,000 (As per usual, H&D have done their own thing...)

Warnings: E (swearing, aggro, unsportsmanlike conduct, injury, gettin' down and dirty in the shower)

A/N1: So, I know this is like... a year overdue, but last year I was not feeling inspired / was focused on other things, so here (at long last!) is the next part of this one-shot-turned-mini-series! Thanksgiving was only two weeks ago. As per usual with this project, things did not go according to plan, so rather than this part rounding out the series, there will be at least one more part (I have given up trying to predict how long this damn thing will be). But @nestledonthaveone should be happy, because this installment should hopefully make up for the disappointment she experienced at the end of Sleepless in New York 😁

A/N2: The backyard football game is a tiny bit inspired by this clip from Friends. Also, apologies in advance for any inaccuracies — American football is a seriously convoluted game (for me, anyway!) and I spent way too long trying to make sense of the rule book/quizzing my husband, but there may still be things in here that I missed the ball with pun intended.

A/N3: This fic is also my submission for @choicesholidays' 2023 Winter Holidays Prompt Event, and the prompt that this installment fits with is Week 5 : This is the best/worst/most embarrassing Christmas (or other winter holiday) ever! (The events cover all three bases because I'm extra 😆)

"So," I say as I step out into the backyard. "Who's ready to play ball?"

My comment halts whatever conversation my brothers and Drake are engaged in.

"Some of us have been ready for a while, Harp," Justin points out, turning towards me.

"Yeah," chimes in Tyler. "What the heck took you so long?"

Drake's jaw goes slack as he lays eyes on me.

"Sorry," I shrug apologetically, more at Drake than anyone else as his gaze roves over the track short and tank top combo I have on. "Mom reorganised my closet."

"You mean the two things you got left in there?" mocks Tyler. "Yeah. Must've been real hard to find!"

"I have more than two things in there, thank you very much!" I counter, giving him a shove.

"How?" asks Justin in bewilderment. "You took an entire suitcase-worth of stuff with you last time!"

"She stores the overflow in Narnia..." quips Tyler.

"At least I don't wear the same smelly shirt 24-7," I hit back.

"Hey, I—"

"Okay! We get it!" interjects Brody, throwing his hands up into the air. "You missed each other, geez!"

I roll my eyes.

Tyler scoffs derisively.

Drake's hot gaze continues to lick over me.

"But if you want to get some actual game time in," my eldest brother continues, "then your weird brother-sister bonding sesh's gonna have to be put on ice."

"Or, better yet," interjects Justin, "save the pent-up aggro for the field."

"No rivalry like sibling rivalry, right, T?" I grin, elbowing Tyler in the ribs.

"Ow!" he objects, rubbing his side. "That actually hurt!"

"Seriously?" I ask. "I barely touched you!"

"Okay, so Harp's on one team and T's on the other," declares Brody loudly. "That leaves—"

"Dibs on Spartacus!" cries Tyler.

Drake's eyes widen as my brother grabs him like an overeager three-year-old.

I quirk a brow. "Something happen in Texas that I don't know about?"

"Not that I know of..." Drake admits ruefully, his eyes lingering on me even as he gets pulled away.

"Hey!" Tyler objects as he drags Drake across the yard. "No fraternising with the enemy! We have one goal and one goal only! To crush the suckers!"

"So..." I say, turning back to Justin. "Guess you're on my team then!"

"Guess so," he confirms with a shrug. "Your fiancé any good?"

"Not sure," I admit. "I know he played a bit in college..."

Justin's brows shoot skywards. "He got picked? For a college team?"

"That's what he said," I shrug. "But I've never seen him play, so..."

Justin gulps audibly as he turns to Brody. "Any chance you wanna join our team?"

"Nope," comes the deadpan response. "You know T — this game's gonna be a shitshow. So, we need a ref."

"In other words, you hurt your back chopping wood again," I note wryly.

"And there's that..." admits Brody.

"Well, maybe if you exercised more..."

"Hey!" hollers Tyler from the opposite side of the yard. "You chatterboxes wanna play or—?"

Brody launches the football across the space. "Heads-up, T!"

Tyler doubles over with a wheeze as the expertly aimed projectile nails him in the gut. "Not... cool... bro..."

"Guess it's game on," I declare with a grin as I turn to make my way over to our end zone.

"You wanna catch, or make a run for it?" asks Justin as he falls in beside me.

"Catch," I tell him. "You know I got a mean throw."

"But can you out-throw your fiancé?" he asks meaningfully.

I glance over at Drake, who's still eyeing me like a ravenous wolf as he cracks the vertebrae in his neck. "Ehh..."

I probably should've stayed in my leggings...

"Okay, then!" declares Brody with a clap of his hands. "Backyard football, Gale House edition! You know the rules, but in case you don't, or you're Tyler, who ignores them anyway—"

"Hey!"

"—here they are again!" continues Brody, studiously ignoring his younger brother's outburst. "One blitz per down, no conversions, no two-on-one plays, no biting, no punching, no kicking, and definitely no running players into the rose bushes, or your ass is gettin' benched! Understood?"

"Yup!" we all chorus.

"T...?" asks Brody pointedly.

"I said 'yes', dammit!" Tyler erupts, hurling the ball into the grass in frustration.

"Not sure why you did that, dumbass," Brody declares flatly. "You're doing the kick-off."

Tyler stomps off to retrieve the football from one of Mom's planters with a grumble.

"Each team has four downs to complete two passes or score a touchdown," finishes Brody. "Any questions?"

We all shake our heads.

"Good!" proclaims Brody. "Let's bring da noise!"

"You ready?" Justin asks, shifting his weight forward.

"Born ready!" I assure him with a grin, flexing my hands.

A shrill whistle rends the air...

...and the game is on!

Tyler punts the football in a graceful arch over the length of the yard. Justin is off like a shot, as is Drake, both looking for position on the field.

The ball sails towards me, and I step forward to receive it. The stuffed leather makes contact with my chest, causing me to gasp from the impact. But I push past the discomfort, quickly bringing my hands around the ball to keep it under control.

Adjusting my feet, I bring the ball up and over my shoulder, looking for Justin...

...but my line of sight is blocked.

"Howdy, Gale," grins Drake from in front of me.

My eyes widen. "How the hell did you get here so fast?"

"Some of us had the foresight to do a warm-up," he replies, making a grab towards me.

I dodge out of the way. "You didn't know we were going to play football!"

Drake scoffs as he lunges for me again. "It's Thanksgiving, baby. You always play football."

I jump backwards again. "Yeah, but—"

I scream as Drake dispenses with the theatrics and snaps his hands around my waist to lift me into the air.

"Hey! Put me down, Walker!" I yell, flailing my legs in a vain attempt to dislodge myself from the captive position I suddenly find myself in... for the second time in just as many days!

"Shoulda been faster, girl," he smirks, slapping me roundly on the ass before he flicks me off his shoulder and back down in front of him after a couple of steps.

I blow the wayward hair out of my face as I glare up at him. "What the hell was—?"

A shrill whistle interrupts me. "Safety!"

I whirl on Brody in disbelief. "What?!"

"You got tackled in your own end zone, sis," my elder brother shrugs apathetically. "While holding the ball. Two points for the other team."

My gaze falls to the football still clutched in my hands. "I... But... He..."

"Whoo!" cries Tyler, bouncing in like a hyperactive kangaroo to high-five Drake. "That was next level, man! I knew you were gonna have tricks up your sleeve!"

"How the hell are you allowing that!" protests Justin, arriving as well. "That was clearly—!"

"—a legal, and perfectly legit play," Brody declares. "It didn't fall foul of any of the rules, so—"

"You can't tackle someone after they make a fair catch!" shouts Justin.

"It wasn't a fair catch," interjects Tyler. "She didn't raise her arm!"

"And even if it had been, which, it wasn't," adds Brody, "that rule isn't part of the official Gale House rulebook anyway, so—"

"Oh, come on!" objects Justin, throwing his hands in the air. "That's a bullshit call and you—"

"Eugh, whatever!" I snap in exasperation, feeling like a complete idiot for allowing myself to get boxed in like that.

Drake reaches out towards me. "Chillax, Gale, it's just—"

"Shut up!" I cry, throwing the ball forcefully down onto Drake's feet as I push past him.

Drake somehow manages to not only dodge, but also catch the careening football on the rebound... like the annoying ninja that he is.

But, at least the rapid-fire multitasking prevents him from being able to stop me as I stomp down to the other end of the yard.

"You alright?" Justin asks as he catches up to me with a jog.

"Fine," I grit through clenched teeth. "Let's crush those suckers."

"Ah, Harper!" exclaims Mom fifteen minutes later as the back door slams shut behind me. "I just finished making lemonade! Do you—?"

I stomp past her without a word, dried grass, dead leaves, and flakes of mud falling from my clothes with every step.

"Don't think she's after lemonade..." observes Dad, eyeing my cruddy progress through the kitchen as he dries up a bowl.

"No!" confirms Nana with a snort. "She looks like she's after a shotgun!"

I scoff under my breath. "That's an understatement..."

"Oh, honey..." croons Mom sympathetically. "Those brothers of yours not playing nice again?"

I fling my bedraggled Sketchers down the hardwood floors before tramping up the stairs.

If it had only been my brothers...

The back door bangs open again.

"Oh, Drake!" I hear my mom cry as I reach the top of the landing. "Thank goodness! What the heck hap—?"

"Can't talk now, Mrs Gale!"

"Honey," huffs Mom exasperatedly. "I told you to call me—"

"For Christ's sake, Leigh! Can't you see the boy's got bigger fish to fry?" deplores Nana as I hear Drake take the stairs two at a time after me.

Ignoring the approaching footsteps, I turn to march down the hallway towards the bathroom.

"Gale!" Drake calls from behind me. "Will you just—?"

"Fuck off, Walker," I throw over my shoulder as I step into the bathroom.

"Christ, girl!" he exclaims. "I said I was—"

I slam the door in his face... and flip the lock for good measure.

Asshole.

I know in the back of my mind that I'm probably overreacting. That it had been more of a perfect storm of mishaps than anything else.

But I am filthy, my clothes are ripped, and I'll be picking bits of garden from my hair for the next week. Not to mention the fact that I'm somehow going to have to explain to Savannah why I can no longer be her maid of honour...

...because thanks to my head-first tumble into Mom's rose bushes, I am now in the unenviable position of looking like I just lost a fight with a rabid bobcat.

And there's no way I'll be able to salvage this disaster... Even with liberal applications of Vaseline. Because the beautiful, lavender, off-shoulder bridesmaid's dress that I helped Savannah pick out will leave my shoulders and arms completely bare, which means that my new litany of cuts and grazes will be on show for the entire kingdom to see.

And I don't want to ruin my soon-to-be sister-in-law's big day by drawing the focus away from her much-deserved happily-ever-after with gossipy speculations about why I ended up looking like a human scratch-post.

As I — for one — have had enough of being on the wrong side of not just one, but multiple media furores. And I don't want to subject Savannah to even a fraction of what I’ve had to endure.

Especially during her once-in-a-lifetime wedding to the father of her child, who also happens to be a duke.

I heave a beleaguered sigh. Why didn't I just stay in my plaid shirt and leggings...?

The lock clicks back behind me.

"Great..." I mutter under my breath as I hear the door handle slide down.

I should've known that a stupid knob-turn bolt wasn't going to keep Drake out for long. But he could've at least taken the hint and given me a moment to put myself back together... and pull the damn briars out of my arms.

"Harper..." he says softly, stepping into the small space. "You—?"

Something in his voice snags on my heartstrings, and I feel a tear slip down my face as the sting of the pain and discomfiture finally overwhelms my latent anger and annoyance. "No..."

"Merde..."

Before I have a chance to blink, I'm up against his chest, breathing in his spicy, sweat-streaked scent as he envelopes me in his arms.

"Baby, I am so s—"

"It's not your fault," I sniffle, burying my face in his shirt. "I tried to be clever and—"

"I should've caught you."

I snort, wiping the moisture from my face. "You can't save me from everything, Drake."

"Yes," he counters firmly, tightening his hold on me. "I can. And I should. Because I made you a promise, Harper. And I—"

"Ow!" I exclaim, flinching away from him as he accidentally pushes on a hidden thorn embedded in my side.

"Shit!" he hisses, releasing me immediately. "I'm sorry, mon coeur! I didn't—"

"I know," I assure him heavily, lifting the side of my tank top up to try and find the offending barb. "You couldn't have known that root was there."

"Yeah..." he murmurs, kneeling down in front of me. "But pulling your pants down probably didn't help..."

An unexpected gasp escapes me as he reaches up to coast the warmth of his palms over my stomach.

"You only did that because I flashed you first..." I tell him breathlessly as he gently turns me.

He meets my eyes with a lopsided smirk. "Well, I figured that since you were undressing anyway..."

I smack him on the shoulder. "It wasn't an invitat— Ow!"

"Baby," he declares, tossing the extricated thorn into the sink. "It's always an invitation. Especially when you wear a get-up like this."

"Yeah," I grumble. "In hindsight, it probably wasn't a good idea. Ow!"

"Sorry..." he says again, flinging the second point after the first. "But you got a few more of those sticking out of you."

I heave a resigned breath. "Of course I do..."

"I'll try to be gentle..." he murmurs, laying a soft kiss on the bare skin of my side. "I promise."

Despite the discomfort, his lips ignite a rush of warmth over my skin. "I know. And I'm sorry that I flipped out at you..."

"Hey," he interjects, running his fingertips gingerly over my back. "Given the circumstances, you cussing me out at the top of your lungs was probably warranted."

"Not sure the neighbours— Ow!" I hiss as he plucks yet another barb out of me.

"Sorry," he murmurs, tossing the last thorn away as he stands back up. "But at least that's all the big ones."

I throw my head up. "What do you mean... the big ones?"

He meets my eye with a level look. "I pulled out everything I could see. But chances are that you have a bunch of smaller thorns stuck in you as well. But I'll need a needle or something to get those out."

I shiver involuntarily. "Great. Even more sharp, pokey objects..."

"Better to get poked now than to end up with a staph infection later," he tells me, washing the barbs down the drain. "Though it'll help if you took a shower first."

I glance at him quizzically. "Won't that push the barbs in further?"

"No," he assures me as he bends down again to rummage around in my toiletry bag. "A warm shower will soften your skin up, and help move any embedded thorns back up to the surface, making them easier to extract."

"Guess that makes sense..." I concede.

Thanks to the high-risk nature of his job, Drake's medical knowledge has always been much more robust than mine.

"Plus," he continues, locating the pair of tweezers he had apparently been after, "we need to wash those wounds out before we dress them."

"Right..." I mutter, eyeing the shower warily.

This will not be fun...

"I know what you're thinking, mon coeur," he assures me, dropping a kiss on my temple. "But a shower's gonna hurt a helluva lot less than letting those cuts get infected."

"I know, I know..." I grumble, pulling my ruined tank top all the way off. "Just not how I had imagined spending Thanksgiving..."

"Trust me, I know," he sighs wearily, running his eyes over the peach-coloured lace of my bra. "This... mishap seriously FUBAR'd all the bedroom rodeo I had planned."

My jaw drops. "Bedroom rodeo?! You told me last night to rein it in because my bed squeaks so bad!"

"Yeah, but I was gonna tumble you in the hay when we got to Texas to make it up to you," he reminds me. "But I guess that ain't happening now."

"We have slightly bigger problems than sex being off the menu, bud," I tell him dryly, pushing my shorts down.

His gaze tracks the movement. "I fail to see how..."

I heave a low breath as I reach for the fastening of my bra. "Your sister's wedding is in three days, and there's no way this mess will be healed up in time!"

"So?"

"So, how am I supposed to wear my bridesmaid's dress?!" I shout at him.

He lifts his eyes out from the well of my cleavage to quirk a brow at me. "Normally?"

"Ha!" I bark out, throwing my bra at him. "Funny!"

He snaps a hand out to intercept the projectile before it can hit him in the face. With a low breath, he adds, "Just wear a shawl or something, if you're so worried about it. You'll want to cover up in church anyway."

"I—" I pause with my panties halfway down my hip. "Why didn't I think of that...?"

"Because you were too busy having an emotional meltdown?" he supplies wryly, tossing my bra to the side as he steps up to me.

"Shut up..." I demure with a roll of my eyes... even as I feel the tips of my nipples harden as they brush against the roughness of his shirt.

"Yes, ma’am," he accedes, lacing his fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck to pull me towards him.

Our lips meet, and I melt into him with a sigh, my arms wrapping around his neck, the earlier confrontation forgotten.

Because no matter how heated an argument may have been, or how badly I am hurting, Drake has always had the uncanny ability to pick me up and kiss me better.

It's honestly one of the big reasons why I love him — I've never met anyone who's as effortlessly clued into me as he is... intuitively knowing what I need, and not shying away from delivering it either.

God knows I wouldn't be here today if it wasn't for him!

His free hand coasts down my side to splay possessively over my half-clad backside, pressing me against the sudden hardness of his arousal.

"What happened to sex... being off the table?" I breathe, my head tipping back as his lips trail down my jaw.

"You're not exactly making it... easy for me, girl..." he murmurs, nipping my ear accusatorially even as he hooks a thumb into the waistline of my panties.

"You're not exactly... trying very hard, bud," I counter dizzily, my hands tangling into his hair as he slips the peach lace all the way off.

"Trust me..." he growls, molten mocha gaze meeting mine as he slides his palm up the back of my thigh, making me arch into him. "If I weren't trying so goddamn hard, you'd be bent over the fucking vanity already."

"Mmm..." I purr, darting my tongue out over his bottom lip. "Sounds like a challenge..."

He exhales sharply. "Christ, girl... Don't make me—"

A loud rap rattles the door. "You two alright in there?"

I jump away from Drake like I've been burnt. "Yeah, Mom! We're fine! Just... Just getting cleaned up!"

"You sure?" she asks. "The boys told me you fell into the rose bushes, so I just—"

"No need!" I shout quickly, seeing the door handle dip down. "I'm... I'm just going to have a quick shower and—"

But the door — that Drake never re-locked — is already in the process of creaking open.

I glance desperately around the bathroom, looking for something to cover myself up with...

...but Drake is one step ahead of me.

"Actually, we could do with a sewing kit, if you got one," he calls, adjusting himself as he steps up towards the intrusion.

"A sewing kit?" queries Mom in puzzlement as she pushes the door back. "Did you lose a button on your shirt?"

"No," corrects Drake, grabbing the edge of the door to prevent it from swinging fully ajar. "Just need something sharp to pick the rest of the barbs outta Harper."

"Oh, that sounds painful!" comes the exclaimed response as Drake plants himself strategically in the doorway to block my naked form from Mom's line of sight. "Are you sure she doesn't—?"

"A nurse would do exactly the same at the ER, 'cept it wouldn't be free," he assures Mom while herding her back out into the hallway and pulling the door 'round behind him. But not before he catches my eye to mouth, "You owe me."

A haphazard snort escapes me as the latch clicks shut in their wake.

No rest for the wicked 'round here!

But I guess I shouldn't be surprised... When you have eight people in a house, you're bound to get walked in on, one way or another. Especially since my family is nosier than a crate puppies at the best of times.

Knowing that Drake probably isn't going to be let to return anytime soon — Mom had sounded way too intrigued by this sewing kit business — I flick the shower head on.

I don’t really want to wash my hair again, given that I already did so this morning, but one glance in the mirror quickly disabuses me of that notion...

Grabbing my shampoo and conditioner back out of my toiletry bag with a resigned sigh, I step under the hot spray for the second time today.

I flinch as the sting of the water hits the broken skin on my arms and shoulders, but I know that Drake is right, and it's important that I wash the dirt and debris out so I don't end up at the ER later requesting a course of antibiotics.

So, gritting my teeth, I force myself to stand firm, ensuring that every inch of me gets a good soaking.

Once I'm thoroughly drenched, I proceed to shampoo the mud and foliage out of my hair, having to battle a bit with a few tangled locks as I spread the conditioner through.

Having finally sorted my hair out, I'm reaching down to grab my shower gel when I feel a rush of cold air over my skin.

"Missed a spot..." murmurs Drake, sliding his palms down the line of my hip as he steps into the shower behind me.

"I only just... finished sorting my hair out," I tell him, my voice catching slightly as the feel of his hands on me instantly reignites the fire he kindled earlier.

"Sounds like you need all hands on deck, then," he drawls, his stubble brushing the shell of my ear as he reaches 'round me to take the bottle from my hand. "Your dad said the turkey'll be done in under an hour."

"You sure turkey's the only thing you're after, cowboy?" I smirk, feeling the tip of his arousal poke me eagerly as he doles out a generous amount of soap into his hand.

"I did work up an appetite..." he affirms, dropping the bottle back down so he can work the lemon-and-lime scented gel into a lather.

"Well, like you said, that's going to have to wait because—"

I gasp as his sud-laden hands come down to cover my breasts with a decisive finality.

"I think we can find a workaround..." he tells me, working the soap over my nipples with his thumbs.

My head tips back onto his shoulder. "Drake..."

"I got you, baby," he assures me, dropping a kiss on my temple as he coasts one hand down my body while keeping the other one cupped around my breast. "You just relax."

I try desperately to maintain my coherence as he proceeds to lather me up. "But—"

"They won't hear if you're quiet," he reminds me, trailing his tongue up my neck as he slips his fingers between my legs.

I grab onto his wrist with a guttural moan as he dives deep into the slickness of my folds, my half-hearted protest forgotten.

Because let's face it — as much as I might try to fight temptation, I always end up losing the battle. As I'm a complete and utter sucker for him, and I've never been able to resist the magic of his touch.

"Plus," he adds, laying tingling kisses along my collarbone while sliding two fingers along the edges of my heated centre. "It feels like you need it."

I blabber something incoherent as he dips a finger into me before pulling back out to continue his lazy explorations.

"Mmm..." he breathes, sinking his teeth gently against the tender skin of my throat. "Feels like you definitely need it..."

I grab onto his hair in desperation. "Drake!"

Letting go of my breast, he snaps a hold around my jaw to crash the sound of his name against his lips as he sheathes his fingers fully inside of me.

I whimper against his mouth, feeling my legs start to shake as he pulls out once more to work my clit with a relentless mix of heart-stopping exigency and almost brutal precision while the warm water continues to rain down onto us.

"That's it, girl," he growls against my mouth, nipping my bottom lip in encouragement. "Just a little more..."

I jolt against him, the tension inside of me ratcheting inexorably higher as he thrusts forcefully back inside me with the addition of a third finger...

...only to withdraw again just as I start to crest.

A pitiful whine escapes me as I arch against his hand, shamelessly seeking the release he keeps dangling in front of me like an unattainable carrot.

"I told you that you owe me, girl," he reminds me thickly, dropping his other hand back down to my breast as he reverts to a slow, teasing glide over my heated nub. "And I ain't done with you yet."

My vision starts to swim as I gasp for air. "Drake... Please! I—"

"I think we can take you higher."

I start to shudder in his arms as he slows his motions down to a crawl, keeping me perched on the edge while stoking me ever upwards with unhurried, feather-light strokes.

"Christ, you must be tight..." he groans against my ear, his erection straining against me from behind as he presses the tip of his finger against my drenched core.

My vision starts to swim as I claw at his hand. "D-Dra—!"

With one swift motion, he rams his fingers into me, throwing his other hand up against my mouth to catch the scream of delirium that erupts from my throat.

Stars burst in front of my eyes as I finally — finally! — explode like an overwrought time-bomb that's run out of fuse.

"That's it, baby," he huffs, thrusting his fingers in and out of me at a rapid pace. "Fall to fuckin' pieces for me."

I lose all sense of time and space as he continues to stroke me through the heady high of my long-awaited climax, the steam from the shower rising up around our entwined bodies.

After several rapturous moments, the last, delicious wave ripples gloriously over me, and my legs finally give out as I fall back down to Earth.

"Drake..." I moan groggily, keeling over to thud against the cool tiles in front of me.

"Wiped your vocabulary, Gale?" he smirks, reaching gently across my waist to pull me back against him.

"Mmm..." I purr, tipping against the solid warmth of his body as I continue to luxuriate in the after-effects of his unexpected — but nevertheless satisfying — ministrations.

His chest rumbles with a chuckle as he drops a kiss into my wet hair. "I'll take that as a compliment."

"So much for taking a time-out, though..." I say dryly, wrapping my arms around him.

"I wasn't gonna leave you hanging, mon coeur," he says, leaning his head against mine. "But we do need to make a move. Your family's waiting for us downstairs."

"They can wait five more minutes," I assure him pertly, sliding my hand 'round his hips.

He catches my wrist. "Harper, you don't need—"

"But I want to."

He swallows hard as I drop to my knees in front of him. "Gale, we gotta—"

"I know," I tell him sweetly, grabbing the base of his shaft with my free hand. "But we can't leave you hanging either, cowboy."

His head falls back with a hiss as I lean forward to trace the underside of his length with my tongue. "Christ, girl. You're gonna be the death of me."

"Mmm, I can tell," I assure him, rounding my tongue in a circle over his velvety tip.

His hand releases my wrist to tangle into my hair with a wry scoff. "Just don't think this'll get you out of surgery."

"Better move fast then, Walker," I say, meeting his eye sultrily as I take him into my mouth.

His body jolts as my lips envelope him. "Jesus, fuck!"

"Keep it down, bud," I tell him with a sly smirk, grazing my teeth across his throbbing skin. "My family's downstairs..."

Expletives spew out from under his breath as I wrap my lips fully around him again. "You should fuckin'... talk... girl. It's a full-time job... tryna keep you quiet."

"Hey," I hit back slyly, flicking my tongue over his tip once more. "You only got yourself to blame, bud."

"You... complainin'?" he huffs, his free hand shooting out to brace himself against the slick tiles.

"What do you think?" I purr, licking my lips as I bend towards him again.

Tightening my hold around his base, I take him slowly back into my mouth, keeping my eyes locked with his the entire time.

A hard growl rattles his throat as the warmth of my tongue wraps around him, but his espresso gaze never wavers from mine.

Sinking my teeth gently against the base of his head, I proceed to swirl my tongue in a figure of eight over the tip of his straining manhood.

I see his expression tighten. "Harper..."

Encouraged by his tacit approval, I take him deeper into my mouth to lavish attention around his full circumference.

His fingers twist more firmly into my hair as I hear his breath start to quicken.

Glancing back up, I see him watching me with hooded eyes, jaw slack with ardour.

Keeping my gaze locked with his, I pull him in as far as he will go.

His eyes shudder closed as a sharp breath explodes out of him. "Shit, that's hot."

Settling my tongue on the underside of his shaft, I slowly pull back, upping the pressure with each inch I reverse.

Reaching his head again, I feel the salty taste of his barely contained excitement drip out onto my tongue. Keeping my lips locked around him, I lick the moisture up before taking him deep again.

His hips jerk towards me as I suck down on his full length. "Fuck, baby. Just like that."

Heeding his demand, I repeat the full cycle, feeling him expand even further into my mouth as I slowly up the speed and pressure after each round.

Hearing him start to pant above me, I slow things back down, licking him up and down lazily in between a few languorous pumps of my fist.

"You're a fuckin' tease, girl..." he pants hoarsely, chest heaving from the stimulation.

"I learnt from the best," I tell him with a smirk as I reach up to rake my nails down the quivering ridges of his abs.

His scoff turns into a groan as I take him back into my mouth to pick up the hard and fast rhythm I'd set earlier.

His other hand flies into my hair. "Putain de merde!"

Slapping a hand onto his ass, I sink my nails into his taunt backside as I urge him on with my mouth and tongue.

"Christ, girl... You're gonna make me cum so hard," he grits, fingers digging into my scalp as I feel him harden almost painfully between my lips.

Knowing that he's close, I bear down on him relentlessly, pushing him towards the precipice of oblivion until I feel the last of his self-control snap as he tumbles down the well of pure, basic instinct.

Yanking my head forward, he thrusts into my mouth with an animalistic grunt, nearly making me choke on the fullness of his length. Breathing through the discomfort, I let him hijack the pace, continuing to tease his now rock-hard head as he chases his inevitable climax.

"Oh, baby, don't stop..." he pleads through increasingly erratic gyrations. "Don't fuckin'—"

I suck down on him hard...

...and he explodes into my mouth with a jagged moan.

His dick bucks wildly as his hot seed spills down my throat, causing his knees buckle in front of me. Tightening my grip on his ass, I keep him pinned between my lips as I work him through his convulsions, his face tilted skywards while his body jerks above me to the sound of the ragged growls being clawed from his throat, his fingers threaded through my hair.

It’s not until the last of the aftershocks fade away, and I draw my tongue over his now somewhat softened shaft that I finally release him.

"Christ, girl..." he pants, trying to catch his breath. "The hell did that come from?"

I shrug up at him. "We were pressed for time, so..."

He bites out a bewildered scoff as he stumbles backwards against the wall. "I can't feel my fuckin' legs..."

"So... Good, then?" I ask, pushing myself back up with a cheeky grin as I wipe my mouth with the back of my hand.

He pulls me to him with a laugh. "More like next fucking level!"

"Now you know how I feel," I tell him, dropping a kiss on his cheek.

"Mmm..." he murmurs, sliding a palm down the curve of my ass. "Gotta work harder then."

I smack his chest in exasperation. "Not everything is a damn competition!"

"Says the girl who hates to lose," he counters, cinnamon-laces irises dancing roguishly.

"Yeah, well..." I huff wryly, wrapping my arms around his shoulders. "You bring out the worst in me, Walker."

"Good," he approves, dropping a kiss on my nose. "I love raising hell with you."

"I love you, too," I breathe, pushing myself up onto my toes.

Tightening his hold on my backside, he dips his head down to capture my lips with a heartfelt kiss.

I lean into him with a sigh, glad that we were able to carve out a small moment for just the two of us... even if the method of arrival had been somewhat less than orthodox.

Which reminds me...

"Guess we should finish what we came in here to do..." I say, pulling away from him begrudgingly. "Before someone else bursts in on us."

"If you mean sex, then—"

I smack him on the arm. "Is that really all you think about?!"

"I mean..." he drawls unabashedly, running the spark of his gaze over me. "I got you naked in my arms, after giving me one of the best blowjobs I've ever had, so..."

"Never mind..." I sigh with a roll of my eyes, even as I feel my mouth pull into a smile.

He’s incorrigible, but I love him for it.

"But you're right," he concedes. "The water's gettin' cold and we need to finish pulling those barbs out of you before we go down for dinner."

"Alright, Dr. McDreamy," I say with a final peck on his lips. "Let's wrap this up so we can go eat some turkey."

Thanksgiving contiunes in Part 4!

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Thanksgiving Only

@burnsoslow

[lainswardrobe]

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[lorei-writes]

Winter Flower

Chapter I: That Lost; That Found

Masamune x OC [Hana] Summary: Hana wakes up in the gardens of Azuchi castle without any recollection of her past. Who is she? What was she doing there? And most importantly – what is she supposed to do now? Placed under supervision of Lord Date, Hana has to find her footing in the unfamiliar reality of the warring states. Series Masterlist

And so, the story begins.

Content Warnings: memory loss

“It is the first time a woman fell with snow into the gardens of my castle.”

Once upon a time, there was a bird clad in night, its wings housing thousands of stars. Wherever it flew, it stole from the sky. It laughed at the impunity of its own crimes until its voice grew rasp… And just as it thought it’d never be caught, winds tore its feathers out. The bird fell silently, too proud to flap its useless wings or to call for help.

Sometimes I wonder, whether the bird couldn’t have been caged, and thus spared… And whether I wasn’t meant to live out its fate.

I do not remember who I was before I fell. Truth be told, I do not recall falling either, nor anything that followed soon after. The furthest my memory can stretch is… probably this morning, when a maid arrived to apply salve to my feet and hands, only to see that I’ve woken up. It burned as she massaged it in, but not more than once she asked for my name and I could not answer her. I do not know it. I haven’t known even my very own face, and when she brought me the mirror I asked for, I was no more familiar with myself than with her.

It’s been half a day since then. I’ve been told to wait, so I do, even though my body still hurts and, if I could, I’d rather not move. The corridor before me is neither narrow nor wide. Were I to describe it, I’d call it bland, as there is nothing in this space that catches my eyes… Except the sliding doors, although I’d rather not look their way. Whatever is waiting for me on the other side of them, it fills me with dread, the cold air seeping through them doing little to ease my anxieties. The skin on my hands is red and cracked. Cool only makes it itch worse, to the point where it’s hard to hold back from scratching them.

The door opens. My shoulders tense. A man taller than me by nearly a head stands in the way, hazelnut eyes staring at me with… worry? The fur over his collar shivers, ruffled by a chilly draught, but it is me who he seems more concerned about.

“How are your hands?” he asks, reaching for them. I cannot help but notice the bandages running up his forearms – and he stops in his tracks, perhaps made aware of my own distrust.

“They’re… itchy.”

It seems to be the most accurate way to describe them. His arms cross in front of his chest, his forehead creasing thoroughly.

“You’re lucky we found you early, otherwise –”

“Hideyoshi.”

The man looks over his shoulder, as if branded by the voice that came from inside the room. He glances towards me, and puts his hand on my shoulder. “Come in.”

I don’t object.

I don’t think I can.

The room appears spacious, although I don’t dare let my eyes wander. Four heads turn towards me, none of which I can recognise. I drag my feet over the mats covering the floor and up to the long table, to then be pointed to my seat. Hideyoshi leaves me by myself. He takes his place at the right of the carnelian-eyed man, then lounged past what could be considered polite. White haori barely manages not to fall down his back, and yet, somehow he does nothing to remedy the fact. His smile has the hairs on the nape of my neck stand up.

“It is the first time a woman fell with snow into the gardens of my castle.” He stares at me, but I cannot hold his gaze for long. His chin now points even higher as he rests it on the back of his hand. I nearly beg for the question to spill from his lips, fearing the time it will.

“I – I am sorry for intruding,” I stutter, a thin smile splitting the face of the snake-like person to his left. Hideyoshi glares at him, but he joins the conversation just regardless, his voice a low rumble.

“How was your rest, little one?”

“I’ve rested well. Thank you for your hospitality.” I bow my head.

“And pray tell, why were you there in the first place?” I could swear I’ve heard him hiss rather than say. When I straighten my back, they all stare at me, all more similar to shadows rather than humans.

“You did have some guts to sneak in,” Eyepatch lisps. Oh, thank you, I was not aware of how terrible my position is.

“Dumb. You meant it was dumb,” the Fuzzball next to me grumbles.

“It isn’t easy to trespass into Azuchi, though, lord Ieyasu. Most assassins do not make it this far.” Glasses smiles from next to the Eyepatch, opposite of both me and Fuzzball. I see nothing to be cheerful about, Glasses.

“Mitsunari, nobody in their right mind would even consider threatening lord Nobunaga in such a crude manner.” Now Hideyoshi is involved in this too. Great.

“Falling asleep in the snow is not the domain of the sane either,” Snake is gracious enough to notice. I think I may be a mouse about to get eaten.

“I’ve heard experiencing cold can strengthen one’s –”

“Silence,” Mr Confident cuts off Glasses. Our eyes meet, my throat growing tight. “Who are you?” he asks, seemingly amused by the chaos around. They all wait for my answer, but — But I —

“I don’t know.”

Eyepatch laughs a hearty laugh while Fuzzball rolls his eyes. Not even Hideyoshi seems convinced, although he glares at Snake when that grins.

“What is it that you go by?” Snake has seemingly made it his goal to embarrass me.

“I don’t know,” I repeat. Eyepatch leans on the table. I do not appreciate the look in his remaining eye, and for a moment, it does cross my mind that I could hurt him if he laughed again.

“What about Hokuro then?” he suggests.

“Hokuro?” I echo, more dumbfounded than displeased… Although just barely. He reaches over to poke the mole on my cheek.

“Hokuro,” he affirms, but I shift back in my place, before he can touch me again to further push his point.

“Masamune, behave yourself.” Hideyoshi scowls. Tell him, Hideyoshi. I don’t know who I am, but I am definitely not a Hokuro.

“Come on, the lass needs some name.”

Masamune, I wouldn’t trust you with naming a rock now. I do not like the look Snake gives me either – if I could, I’d gladly hide my head between my shoulders.

“Perhaps Hana would be to your liking, little one?” he hums, having me wonder whether there is anything wrong with my nose. I point towards it, thinking that he indeed could have it in mind… But he shakes his head, this thin smile appearing over his face again, fox-like eyes crinkling with amusement.

“You could be a nose-Hana if you insist, although I thought of flowers.”

Surprisingly nice. I nod shyly.

The lord of the castle shifts in his seat. If there is one thing my body knows at its very core, it is not to ever cross that man. His attention turns towards me, and although I do listen, I do not wish to provoke him. In any way.

“Stand up.”

I do.

“Come closer.”

Unfortunately, I do. Because I have to. My legs tremble slightly as I step towards him, awaiting further instructions.

“Sit,” he demands, and I comply. I clench my fist, I clench my jaw – I am not a dog. Do not talk to me like that. My head hangs low, but he grabs me by the chin and forces me to look at him. This time, I do not relent under his gaze. I am furious. Who does he think himself to be, to treat me like a pet?

“That’s a curious expression you have there, little one.” Snake reaches into the folds of his kimono. His fingers are long and slender, each donning a neatly trimmed nail. He sets two brown bottles in front of Nobunaga, both closed with a metal lid. “Care to explain those now?”

“I do not know what those are,” I struggle to speak, the hand holding my chin pushing it up too high.

“They were found among your belongings,” Nobunaga more so accuses than explains. “Prove your intent.”

He lets me go. My fingers tremble as they unscrew the lids on both bottles, and when I bring them closer to myself, I realise both of them contain some smaller than bite-sized tablets. As per habit I formed who knows when, I shake out exactly one out of each bottle and throw them into my mouth.

“Swallow.”

You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you, Nobunaga? My poignancy aside, I do as the lord of the castle demands. I cannot refuse him, or so I fear…

And I wait.

And we wait.

And wait… Wait… Wait…

Nothing happens. I’d breathe a sigh of relief if my body hasn’t already known this would happen. At most, I am a little drowsy, and somehow, in less pain.

“Should you take another one?” the Snake suggests.

“Dosage can be the difference between a medicine and a poison,” Fuzzball grumbles from the end of the table.

“Perceptive as always, Ieyasu.” Snake smiles towards me. Very well. I swallow another set of tablets, to no greater effect.

“Were you even listening to what I’ve just said?”

Snake still smiles, so I —

Hideyoshi stops my hand with his own. “That’s enough.” His brows furrow, the concerned gaze he’s had for me morphing into a glare as soon as it reaches the Snake. “If she takes too many and dies, it still won’t prove anything.”

“My, yet she has taken them of her own volition.”

I just glance between the men, my mind being too slow for any coherent thoughts to form. Nobunaga urges me to look at him again, but this time, I nearly melt into his hand. He laughs, but my eyes can’t sharpen anymore.

“Docile creature,” he calls me before returning his attention to the other men. “Masamune, you’re in charge of watching over her.”

“Sure thing.”

“You’re dismissed,” he says and pushes me away. Mildly drowsy, I only observe, all of the present lords raising to their feet. Hideyoshi hoists me by my shoulder, but I am too confused to oppose him.

A one-eyed shadow stands in front of me. I think I may lose my balance and fall, but the hand he puts on the small of my back steadies me enough to prevent that. There is something feral to his smile, and for a moment I am certain I can see him wearing fangs.

“Come on, lass. Easy does it,” Masamune murmurs as he leads me forward, down through the blank corridor, past the room I’ve woken up in earlier today… Further, outside the castle gates. Into the city. Thick capes of snow lay on the ground, and although I do not know where this premonition comes from, I am sure it is plenty more than what one should expect in this region. The chilly wind has my nose sting; my eyes water as I turn my head towards the sky. Now I am the traveller in a foreign land, even if just by the ruling of my currently empty mind.

I shiver when he pulls me closer to himself. Masamune smells of spice, of chilly wind and of something I can’t quite put my finger on. He is warm, the fact alone offering me some relief… But he is also a stranger, one who attempted to name me Hokuro to add to his offences.

My shoulders relax only once we reach his residence, and I am led away by a group of maids. The moment my futon is set out, I topple over, the land of dreams outstretching its arms to catch me. It is a pleasant embrace, one that erases my worries… Alongside with any recollection of what happened soon after I took the medicine. At least I think it was medicine.

--

Tag list: @lancelotscloak @violettduchess @the12thnightproject @oda-princess @tele86 @rinaririr

Series tag list: @cheese-ception @nuttytani

Last tag for the general tag list -- if you'd like to be added to the series tag list (or for that matter, any tag list of mine), please, do let me know :)

[sofasoap]

Eternal happiness among us

Pairing: Simon “Ghost ” Riley x f!Reader ( OC aka Mini MacTavish )

Summary: Epilogue to the Mini MacTavish series : Simon route Confession time.

Warning: Mature Themes, Swearing, hints of sexy time. fluff ( yes, I finally add in some fluffs), alcohol use, violence mentioned.

A/N : Kind of Continuation/parallel universe of @saltofmercury ’s “The Favorite MacTavish” , where the reader/OC is Soap’s little sister. PLEASE GO READ HER STORY first to make sense of this series. Thank you for leading me your character!  “masterlist” for more stories to this Mini MacTavish expanded verse.

When he promise you he will take things slow this time round.

IT WAS SLOW. Always the same routine. He comes back from the mission, forces one of the boys ( they always happily accept ) from the squad to babysit, takes you out for a quiet dinner, take you home. Never stays overnight.

He always picks you up, look at you in the eyes first for permission before reaching for your hand. Two of you will then stroll down to the Italian restaurant not far from your house, order two pasta, two glasses of wine, a dessert to share, and slowly walk home.

He didn't attempt to kiss you until the seventh date. On the CHEEK.

He tries to be a good father. He made an effort to spend as much time as he can with the kids while he is back in UK. Little Johnny always keen to "talk" to his father, blabbering baby languages ( "I did say he is like you. Chatterbox." Simon joked.) While Aileen was slower to warm up to him ( You could see he was disheartened when Aileen screamed and refuses to let him hold her first few weeks.) One day she crawled slowly towards Simon, all by herself and open her arm demanding her father to pick her up. Simon's heart just melt. He knew he was a goner by then. He is determined from that day onward no pests is good enough for his baby daughter.

Months later after the start ( restart?) of the slow courtship, Soap was staying over few nights in London, he sat you down and announce that their upcoming mission will be taking them away for at least six months. His eyes flickers towards Emma who was preparing dinner in the kitchen. " Probably have to go dark for a period of time. Can't say much but we got solid lead to bust one of the larger cartels in the area." He usually isn't the one that will give you information voluntarily about work. Your sense is tingling. You don't have a good feeling about this. The kids will miss their uncle. Their dad. You will miss your brother. You will miss your... date? boyfriend? father of your child? You and Simon haven't really had " the talk ". Gosh , it sounds so silly putting it that way. You two basically have done things in strange order. Meet, became acquaintance, had sex, produced babies, near confession plus rejection , going on date and.. what?

What if they don't return? Hurrying up the stairs, into your room, you drag out a shoebox from the depth of the wardrobe. As soon as you found what you were looking for at the bottom of the box and set right to work. Next night, Simon came over again. Out for dinner. Usual routine. But something felt different this time. The atmosphere seems more tense. His thumb rubbing along your knuckles as you two slowly walk home. Stopping at the front door of the house, you turn around to face him. Gathering courage, you fidget with the small object in your pocket. "Simon." He look down towards you, "I .. um.. want you to have this." Pressing the small polaroid photo into his hand.  it shows picture of you and a very begrudge looking Ghost, looking away from the camera. Both of you look like you been off your head. The photo that was taken after you met Ghost for the first time and narrowly lost to him after the drinking game. You can see a hint of smile on his face while looking at the photo. Turning the photo over, there was a dried Thistle on the back of it. " ...I gave one as well to Johnny when he first joined SAS as a good luck charm... Thistle means strength and protection.." you look at his large, callous hand. " Come back in one piece Simon. The kids need their father.. I need their father." you swallowed, looking up at him,

" I need you. I can't imagine losing you." you confessed. Tears filling your eyes. Next second you feel his lip on yours. You moaned into his mouth. Tiptoeing up, pressing your body into his, wanting to get closer, to feel him. He deepens the kiss. "Aye ye two! remember protection this time round!!! Guest bedroom downstairs is free!! "jumping apart when you heard Soap yelling from the second floor window and feeling of embarrassment rising, you quickly buried your heated face into Ghost's chest.

"I swear.. that bampot cockblocking brother of mine.." You mumbled.

"Git awa' an bile yer heid!" Simon shouted back as he hold you tight. Pair of hand appeared behind Soap and yanked him back inside.

" Sorry! please continue!" Shouted Emma as she slam shut the window.

Lifting your head with horror, " Simon! Where did you learn that?!!" "Heard it from Soap when he told me to fuck off once. " He shrugged. " What? My kids are half Scottish, I need to learn some words."

You laughed. " If I hear them running around saying that.. I will chop you and Johnny's head off first." As the laughter settle, you two pulled apart. He gave you one last kiss on the lip before stepping away , ready to leave. You grab his arm to stop him.

" .... Stay for the night? Please?" You whispered. His eyes darkened.

" .. Are you sure." " I am. Just like last time. I am sure."

That night, he confessed with the three words you never thought will ever hear coming out from his mouth as you drifted off to sleep, both worn out from the passionate yet tender session. " I love you."

Don't worry they won't die. lol

If any of you have read my alternative ending ""Thistle and Thorn" ( which i wrote before writing this epilogue) you will know the meaning of the thistle and more story behind it.

Well. This is the end of Simon's route. I was going to add bit of drabble with this, but it felt right to end the chapter where it is. I'll put up a drabble chapter just for the domestic life after. If anyone ever noticed, I been dropping hints here and there setting up for Soap x OC/Reader if I manage to finish off König's route. THANK YOU all again for all the likes, comments and reblogs. That kept me going, wanting to write more.

[wiihtigo]

6 and 7 for casey and also 20 :)c

Ask game

6. What catalyzed their introduction to the plot?

True to her rotten soul, she was summoned to the plot in vp by discourse and disorder in the family. She comes around during a point when Michelle is starting to get sudden positive public attention as goldstar, and since boosters been mostly out of public eye since starting to be the silent protector of the time stream, she’s treated as something of a big new breakout sensation (they’re bored as fuck in metropolis)

Michelle is dealing with some inner turmoil and fighting with booster which she’s been keeping under wraps cuz she’s gods strongest soldier but she sees the attention on goldstar as a way to break away from it all and gain some independence and also as a sort of petty bite back at her brother who is being very annoying at the moment warning her about the dangers of stardom. As if he’s so smart. DIE. She starts spending more time as goldstar the superhero and less as goldstar the time master and is fighting a lot with booster, so she starts looking for her own place and wants to start at university and do all these things for herself (we’re so proud of her. I mean I am. FUCK BOOSTER GOLD) and CUE….. CASEY WILKES

Michelle is enrolled in uni, but she’s still living in the time lab and her brother is driving her fckn crazy every time she’s home. And she’s having trouble adjusting to sxhool life (I imagined she didn’t attend college like booster did, and just kept working out of highschool all the way up till she was dragged into the past) And as if drawn magnetically towards someone else who wants to kill MJ Carter, she and Casey have a chance encounter at a cafe near school and they chat a little. Casey tells Michelle she goes to the university near here too. That’s crazy. We have so much in common! Eventually while talking it turns to venting cuz Michelle was looking a little miserable before they started talking and she accidentally lets boosters name slip in convo. And Casey’s like 🙂 oh thats 🙂 that’s an interesting name. And btw you look. A little familiar? [MR KRAAAAABS I HAVE AN IDEAAAAAA] so from then Casey latches onto her like a leech and eventually gets the confirmation this was destiny and I can’t believe this is BOOSTER GOLDS (I THOUGHT SHE WAS DEAD) TWIN SISTER. AND SHES MAD AT HIM? THIS IS PERFECT

And then.. well that’s more middle of the story stuff. And this was asking about her introduction! (Her relationship with Michelle is interesting to me because aside from the friendship betrayal stuff it’s a rare case of her being weirdly friendly- at least by her standards)

7. What attribute of them (some facet of their personality, their history, their look, or whatever etc) would you find most important to somehow preserve if they were transplanted to an AU fanfic?

This is something Marty and I entertain ourselves with a lot actually wondering what fandom perception of Casey and nell would be… in a series bible id include things like… she’s genuinely not insecure. Like at all. Her attitude isn’t masking a tortured soul inside she’s just like that, she’s selfish and thoughtless and delusional. Her childhood was objectively difficult but she really has no complaints about the way she was raised or with her mother. She has her problems sure but they’re in other areas.. you’re looking in the wrong place! She also doesn’t really get .. sad? Often or at all? She’s more likely to feel anger than sadness. And also o feel it’s important to realize how monumentally difficult it is to form a relationship with her IF THATS SOMETHING YOU WANTED FOR SOME REASON. Literallt every relationship she has has been based on her thinking she could manipulate the other for something and then it either morphed into Ok I don’t hate seeing you even without anything to gain or morphed into attempted homicide. The illusion of free choice

20. Free Space #2: Which of your OCs would you most like to meet in person, if they could become real (or you could visit them) for a day?

Oh god. Not Casey. All my ocs are kind of annoying in some way.

Maybe Cain cuz he’s a normal polite boy. I’d ask him to show me his pop two extra arms out of his ribs trick and then id go ewwww lol and ask him to leave

[tendertenebrosity]

I was kind of sitting on this one until I had written the preceding scene that explains how we got into this predicament, but that seems unlikely to get written any time soon and this is my out-of-context-drabble series, and I wanted to introduce my new OC, so. Required context, I suppose, is: the forest told its servant to do something he objected to, and bad and naughty quasi-immortal instruments get put in the lake until the forest isn’t angry anymore. Masterpost for these guys is here.

It left me in the lake, under the water, for... honestly, I tried to figure it out later and I never could. Maybe weeks?

When the vines finally loosened around me, I was still too lodged in the mud of the lake to really move much, and it didn’t occur to me to try. So whoever it was had to grab me under both shoulders and heave me upright, into air and light and sound.

My chest had stopped trying to reject the water ages ago; so I hung from the hands that held me and didn’t cough or wheeze. I think my eyes were open; I didn’t blink. Honestly, if it had been me I would have assumed I was a dead body.

I felt like one.

By the time the person had pulled me out onto the bank, I was starting to catch on, to move my limbs and try to hold my head up under my own power. I could hear the person talking, but I didn’t register anything they were saying; fingers, shockingly warm, touched my neck and the side of my face.

They pulled me over onto my front, and I guess my body figured I was going to be alive after all so I might as well try and get the water out. I coughed and spluttered, pushed myself up with my shaking forearms, and dragged in breath after breath of burning air. It probably would have been more efficient to just hang me upside down.

The stranger made encouraging sounds and held me upright. I think they might’ve asked me a couple of questions; I was too out of it to respond.

I couldn’t see. I could only barely feel my arms and legs. The person moved around me in a blur of colour, only easy to pick out because they were wearing a garment that was bright red.

After a little while, they picked me up bodily and carried me away from the mud of the bank, and I was pathetically, exhaustedly grateful.

Time slipped away from me again, until the person in red said something as they were propping me up somewhere, in a sitting position. It was warmer here; the sensation of air against my dry skin was disorienting and unfamiliar. I scraped together enough of my mind to register words. “… you hear me?”

“Yhs,” I managed to mumble.

“That’s really good.” Their voice was deep, with an unfamiliar accent. “Stay with me.”

Something heavy and soft was wrapped around my shoulders; the material was coarse against the bare skin of my forearms and my neck.

Red moved in my field of vision again. “Here you go. This will help.”

I took the thing they pushed into my hands without really understanding what it was; they wrapped my fingers around it with theirs before letting go.

It was a cup, earthenware glazed red and orange in patterns, and warm. The smell hit me in the next moment like something tangible; some sort of stock or broth, savoury and hot. I was suddenly much more awake.

“Go slow,” the person said.

I nodded, wordless, and sipped the broth. It was the best thing I had ever had. I didn’t recognise anything specific, herbs or whatever, but… oh. I could feel the warmth spread through my chest and belly. How long had it been since I’d had anything hot to drink or eat? How since I’d had anything at all, actually?

As I sipped, slowly, I started to come back to myself. Or out of myself, possibly.  The blanket I was wrapped in was woven in patterns, too; I spent a little while tracing them with my eyes as I struggled to focus.

I managed to look up from the cup and my own lap, in little pieces. There was a fire in front of me, leaping orange-red and radiating heat against my face and arms. A metal frame sat over it, with a round metal pot. The structure that was looming to the right was a low tent made of leather.

I curled my toes, cautiously rolled my shoulders and flexed my fingers. I was dully surprised that nothing hurt. Outside the circle of firelight, night was falling, the soft calls of animals ringing through the early darkness that fell underneath the roof of the canopy.

Underneath the wool blanket that was wrapped around my shoulders, I had another lying over my lap and legs; under that I suspected I was still barefoot and in the ragged shirt I’d gone into the water in. I could feel the layer of mud drying against my skin.

The person in red got up to tend the fire, pulling the pot towards them with a hook to check on it.

Of course. The fire. My mind was clearing enough for me to be alarmed.

“Hey,” I croaked. “Be… be careful with fires, here. You have to… the wood, it isn’t…”

The stranger looked up at me, and smiled, and I got my first good look. A man, maybe a little less than thirty, with amber skin and thick, straight black hair pulled away from his face. His eyes were black and the corners crinkled with the smile.

“It’s all right, we have permission for fires,” he said. “Thanks for the warning, though. How are you doing over there?”

“I - mm.” I looked down into the cup. My hands were shaking where they were wrapped around it. “Permission? You have - who from?”

“The forest,” he said.

I shuddered and nearly dropped the cup of broth. “What - How? You kn-know about the… Did it speak to you?”

“No, not to me,” he said. “Gods don’t really like to speak to humans that aren’t their devotees; I understand it’s a bit difficult for them.”

“I - okay - but -”

“It spoke to the Raven, though. They’re still talking now. I -” He sat back on his heels, and lifted a hand to his head, raking his fingers through the hair at his temple. The red coat was woollen, reached his knees and was crossed by a wide leather belt. He looked apologetic. “I’m sorry, that’s a lot of information. Isn’t it?”

“No - yes, no, how do… How do you…” I stabilised the cup against my knee, swallowed against the knot in my throat. How do you know about all of this? How did you find me? Did the forest give you permission to interfere with me, too?

“Well, let’s just step back a bit, then,” he said gently. “Can I ask for a name for you? Is that all right?”

“I...” I hunched my shoulders under the blanket, suddenly overwhelmed. “Ciaran,” I said, all at once, as if I thought somebody was going to stop me. Maybe the forest. I don’t know. “I’m Ciaran. My name’s Ciaran.”

He smiled, and those eyes crinkled again. “It’s good to meet you, Ciaran.” He laid a hand on his chest. “I’m Tamur. I’m the junior priest of a god called the Raven.”

Another god? That raised almost as many questions as it answered.

“Tamur,” I repeated, thickly. I took a deep breath, let it out. Water crackled somewhere inside; oh, ugh, did he know about that? About my lack of a heart? He had to. What was he going to think? “Okay.”

“We’re just passing through,” Tamur said. “The Raven and I, I mean. It didn’t know the forest god was still here, but since it is they got to talking, and we learned about you.”

Wait, when he said ‘devotee’, did he mean he was like me?

Or, well. Probably not that much like me. My hands were shaking again.

Tamur got to his feet and started to circle around the fire towards me.

“How are you feeling, Ciaran?” he asked. He looked worried. “Are you - ”

I managed to put the cup down in front of me without spilling any of it, before I lost it. I covered my face with my hands and absolutely hated the keening noise that came out of my mouth.

“Oh,” I heard, and Tamur sounded genuinely distressed. “I’m sorry, Ciaran, did I - is there anything I can…”

He was being so nice. That was what undid me. The hot broth, the blanket around my shoulders that was heavy and warm, having someone human in front of me to talk to and to call me by name - all of that, yes, but he spoke so gently.

The last - weeks? Months? I didn’t even know how long it was before I’d spent that time under the water - had been such a parade of horrors. My body didn’t feel like mine anymore. Things crawled and trickled inside of my ribs, and the joints of my limbs felt fresh and tender like healing scars, and the spaces inside my mind were huge and cold, reeling and echoing with disbelief and disgust.

And now I sat here, with what was probably somebody’s favourite blanket over my filthy mud-encrusted legs, and that somebody looked at me with worried eyes and talked to me like I was something precious and fragile.

I tried to smother the ugly noises, in a way I hadn’t when it was just me and the forest. Who cared what the forest thought, but the first person to touch my hands and face in fucking months was going to see what an absolute mangled wreckage I was, and I cared about that.

I felt a cautious touch on my shoulder, just an instant before it moved away. The red blur I could see between my cracked fingers seemed to indicate that Tamur was kneeling in front of me, his hand out over my shoulder like he wanted to touch it again.

“It’s all right,” he was saying. “Oh, Ciaran, I’m sorry. I should have expected. Just breathe. It’s all right.”

I couldn’t get enough breath to say that I wouldn’t have minded if he touched my shoulder - and anyway how do you say that?

It was easy, though, to let myself pitch forward, blanket and all, so that my head smacked awkwardly into his shoulder and I had to catch myself with one hand on his leg.

If Tamur was surprised, he recovered quickly; he wrapped his arms around my shoulders as easily as if he’d been raised beside me with my cousins and my brother. The red coat smelled like smoke and some sort of sharp herb and underneath that, human. I breathed it in as I cried.

Tamur’s hand smoothed the blanket over my back, a slow pressure from between my shoulderblades down over my ribs. Up and down in a soothing rhythm. “I know. I’m so sorry. It’s all right. Shhhh. You’re going to be all right. ”

I wasn’t. There had been no possibility of me being ‘all right’ for weeks. But he squeezed my shoulders like he believed it, and maybe I could too if I just sat here long enough.

[okthatsgreat]

@badromancebullsquid WAHOO!!!!!!

oc ask game!!!

alone: how does your oc deal with loneliness? have they ever been completely alone before? how do they act when there's no one around to see them?

not very well!!!!!!!!!!! ryobe is a character who thrives on attention and connection to other people, whether that be through his friends or through his fans and community. complete isolation with just him and his thoughts would WRECKK that guy, because he truly does cherish and rely on that. after chapter 3 and through the majority of chapter 4 he IS entirely isolated and alone simply because of what he had done, leaving him to totally wallow in his guilt, completely unsure of himself or where he stands. so when he gets approached later on in the series he is far more willing to accept and begin changing himself because he cant stand that isolation from people

there isnt a hugggeeee difference between how he acts?? i guess he puts on a bit more of a show but only in the way a friend would start telling more jokes once other friends started showing up

hate: what does your oc hate? why? how do they act towards the object of their hatred?

surprisingly this guy isnt one to entirely "hate" many things!! hes just not extremely passionate about the things he dislikes, which makes him pretty "easy to like" as a youtuber because he doesnt tend to take sides that often lol. he DOES very much dislike party-poopers, mood killers, and anybody who takes things too seriously, and tends to tease them a lot more than he would others lol

fear: what is your oc's greatest fear? what do they do when confronted with it? are they open with their fear, or do they hide it away?

he's definitelyyyy the type to hide away!! that, or his brain tends to shield himself from his fear by creating false narratives for him-- which is ESPECIALLY prevalent during his killing game. he denies and denies that he is actually in a situation that scares the living shit out of him until he absolutely CANT play it up for laughs anymore

ghost: who or what haunts your OC? what happened? how do they live with their ghosts?

i mean post-game this guy absolutely has so many ghosts following him BGFHS he caused a lot of shit in that simulator!!!!!!!!! he toyed with people for literally no other reason other than his own personal gain!!! and he was DIRECTLY involved in the death of three whole people, to the point where he could be solely blamed for that entire disaster, but managed to get off scot free while ANOTHER person got executed over it. she was pissed at him in-game even as she was getting dragged to her death, and she is PISSEEDDDDDDD at him post-game. FURIOUS

[senju]

hello <3 my name is sawyer but you can also call me juno or just senju!! i'm 28 and currently living in alberta canada with my partner ramona ♥️, who does not use social media. i'm agender and i use they/them and she/her pronouns. i'm bi aro-ace or..... something like that? i dunno. it's complicated. istp. neutral good. chronic oversharer. autistic and doing my best (⁠๑⁠•⁠﹏⁠•⁠)

asks are closed but you can send anything to my side blog! anon is on. this is my main blog and it's mostly a photo/aesthetic blog. i rarely make posts on here but when i do its under #sawyer posting. all of my blogs run on big queues. mass reblogs/queue are okay on all. i love me some notifications <3

my side blogs are:

@soudeko personal & junk

@kamukuro multi-fandom

@kiririko nsfw blog

@withtheteeth oc aes blog - kadin 🐍

❌❌ this is a terf free zone. we love and respect trans people here. transphobes & bigots of any sort are not welcome and will be blocked ❌❌

♋︎ cancer sun ♉︎ taurus moon ♓︎ pisces rising

(⁠ ⁠˘⁠ ⁠³⁠˘⁠)♡ 4/13/19 !!! 💛💜

currently watching: dexter s4

currently playing: overwatch 2 (Juno#12966)

🥭 some of my very favourite things are: food & recipes, fungi, insects, gore & blood, horror, space & planets, heart shaped objects, too many animals to list, listening to music, collecting vinyl, mary jane, house plants, vintage fashion, swimwear, sewing & patterns, anything yellow or pink, and funky home decor!! @ me in anything you'll think i'll like <3

🍋 some of my very favourite series in no particular order are: overwatch, madoka magica, star wars, rupaul's drag race, my little pony g4, avatar the last airbender & legend of korra, mass effect, naruto, lost, and always sunny! there's wayyyy more on @kamukuro

pinterest - tiktok - amazon wishlist

discord: j.u.n.o. (mutuals only please)

# sawyer posting

# ramona

# fave

# moi

# fashion

# birds

# cats

# dogs

# chihuahuas

# insects

# moths

# snakes

# fungi

# jellyfish

# natgeo

# space

# roads

# music

# video