#I see the vision with these two. i love them

[misctf]

Change Your Tune: Rick

The companion story to Occamstfs post! Had fun working on it with them!

“Damn it...” Eric grunted as he pushed through the crowd, “Calvin...”

Stick together. It wasn’t complicated. All Calvin had to do was stick with him and things would’ve worked out fine. But now? Eric was pushing through the crowd as best he could- trying desperately to find his friend amongst a sea of giggling and cheering men.

“Sorry... sorry...” Eric mumbled, as he squeezed between a bunch of scantly dressed men, “Ugh... sorry...”

The attendees were too enthralled in the trashy pop music of whoever was up on stage to really pay him much mind. Their bodies moving to the beat, clapping their hands. Eric couldn't help but overhear a conversation between two guys in the audience as he brushed past them.

“Oh Em Gee I like, totes love this song!”

“But like...I was totally not into this kind of music before.”

"Same sis! But like... live a little!"

Eric pushed past them as they made out. And as he did, he felt overwhelmed. The cheering... dancing... kissing... the music... Eric paused and took a few deep breaths. It was so hot. The summer heat, the sweaty bodies...

“I... I don’t feel good.” His vision was getting cloudy, “Someone... I don’t...” Eric swayed, his head spinning...

"Like are you okay, cutie?"

"No... I..." Eric looked up at the twink and then down at his own hands, "What?"

They were smaller, daintier. His arms smooth and hairless- the muscle he did have now more diminished. He shook his head and pulled away, lurching towards the edge of the crowd. The music beckoning to him, worming into his brain.

“Wait... no...” He could've sworn his voice was an octave higher, “Calvin... I...”

Eric stumbled and fell to the ground at the edge of the crowd. The music growing less intense. The vertigo now improved. Yet part of Eric felt a sense of longing. To go back into the crowd. To get lost in the music. He shook his head

"I need to find Calvin..." He reconfirmed to himself. He looked down at his arm- it was his arm. His voice- it was his voice, "Must've been imagining things..."

“Oh looky here! You ain’t lookin’ too hot!”

Eric looked up, his gaze met by a group of strangers. They were all smiling, all similarly dressed. One of them stepped forward and extended an arm.

“You look like you could use a hand. Musta overheated out there."

Before Eric could reply, he was hoisted up by the man, while another shoved a beer into Eric's chest.

"It ain't water but it'll help."

"I'm good." Eric replied, handing him the beer. Since when was beer considered a good way to stay hydrated? "Well, maybe it is to these rednecks." Eric thought, before clearing his throat, "I gotta find my friend. We were trying to find where North Side is playing at." He looked around, hoping he'd see Calvin so he'd be able to get away from these guys, "But I lost him and..."

"North Side! We can show ya the way." One of the men slapped him on the back, "Jus' follow us. I promise we'll get ya there."

"Oh no, I'll be fine..."

"What kinda men would we be if we didn't help a fella out." The one chimed in, "Besides, you nearly fainted on yer ass back there. Can't be too safe now."

"Yeah! And North Side passes right by ol' Blue Sky Dreamers." Another added, "God, they're great. Never been much of a country fan 'till I heard them." The others nodded in agreement.

Eric raised an eyebrow. These men hadn't been country fans? They looked like they'd been plucked out of a cornfield and dropped here.

"I guess it wouldn't hurt." Eric sighed, "Lead the way."

He followed the men, listening in on their conversation. How they droned on about guns, trucks, and beer. How Blue Sky Dreamers talked to them- resonated deep within them. Their southern accents deep and carefree, their breaths smelling of whiskey and cigarettes. Eric felt out of place- uncomfortable even. He had no interest in getting to know these kinds of people... these...

"Ain't that just lovely." The men stopped, causing Eric to pause, "Ya hear that boys?"

Eric's ears perked up. The sound of a banjo, a fiddle, and harmonica whispered in his ears. Distant but ever present. It was... nice... calming... Eric shook his head and looked over to a crowd of men in cowboy hats, all swaying to the beat of Blue Sky Dreamers.

"I reckon that's the most beautiful thing I ever did hear." He watched as his guides walked towards the crowd.

"Hey, wait!" Eric called out, following behind them, "I still need... huh?" A cool breeze tickled Eric's exposed chest and he recoiled at the sensation, "What in the..."

He hadn't been wearing that. Had he? Since when was he wearing jeans? Since when did his shirt get so dirty? He looked up to see the men from earlier blending in with the crowd, disappearing into the sea of cowboys. He bit his lip and ran a hand through his hair, only to knock his cap to the ground.

"Ain't no way..." He stared at the cap lying in front of him, "I could'a... could have..." He corrected himself, "Sworn I was wearing a bandana." He reached down and picked the cap up, securing it back on his head, "Okay... North Sky... No that's not..."

Eric shuddered. Since when was it so hot? The summer sun beat down on him and the crowd of people certainly didn't help. The shirt he was wearing was soaked, covered in sweat. And with a grunt, he pulled it off and threw it to the dirt ground below.

"Fuck, what the hell?" Eric's eyes widened as he looked down at his lean pecs and toned abs, "I ain't usually..." His voice cracked as he ran a hand through the sparse, new chest hairs that appeared on his increasingly more tanned chest, "What in tarnation..."

And then he heard it. More clearly now. The music. It was filling his ears... filling him... It felt so freeing- each strum of the banjo, each word accented by a southern twang. Eric stepped forward, the crowd opening up around him to let him in.

"Well, ain't this the best dang music ya ever did hear?"

"I never reckoned I'd fall in love with country music."

"I ain't never felt a song hit me this hard."

eRic's mind was swimming with each step deeper into the crowd. His mind's eye filling with new images... an old farmhouse.... swaying corn... sweating after a long day's work... flickering fireflies... a bonfire.... beer... laughter... his truck...

"No stop... I gotta..." eRic swayed, bumping into the other men around him. Their bodies, made sturdy from working on their farms, prevented Eric from escaping, "Please... Calvin... help..."

eRic gasped... he could taste whisky on his breath... feel his muscles contracting and relaxing... He realized how closely packed to the other men he was. But not because they had gotten closer. No... he realized with increasing dread that he was bigger. His body thickening with firm muscle. His chest swelling into a pair of mighty pecs. Hairs sprouting from his crotch, across his abs, and over his chest like a blanket.

"Let me out... I gotta..."

But the men wouldn't budge- captivated by the music. And the song. Oh god the song was so loud... Reverberating in his head, worming into his brain. eRic could feel the sweat dripping from his increasingly rougher skin... an itchiness as stubble sprouted into a short beard. His arms thickened with muscle, blanketed by manly fur. But his attention shifted, even as his body continued to shift and change. His eyes focused on the stage, where Blue Side Dreamers continued to play.

"Well, I'll be! I could sit here an’ listen to these fellas ‘til the cows come home." Ric grinned, his foot tapping along to the beat, "What in tarnation was I thinkin’ not likin’ country music before?" He spoke, unbothered by the twang of his new southern accent.

He didn't know how long they kept playing. His body swayed to the beat... his mind elsewhere...

"Well, that’s a wrap, y’all! Mighty appreciate ya joinin’ us today, and we’ll be seein’ ya next year. Y’all be sure to grab our new album, now—don’t go missin’ out!"

Reality slammed into Rick and he shuddered as he returned to a state of full awareness. He looked around at the other men- men like him... proud country guys.... like himself.... born and raised...

"Hey Rick, didn’t you say you was wantin’ to go see that other band?"

A voice cut through the crowd and Rick grinned when he saw the men from earlier. He placed a hand to his cowboy hat and shrugged.

"I reckon I’m alright now—can’t even imagine wantin’ to hear nothin’ else after this!" A grin formed on his face, "But I could go for a nice cold one fellas!"

The group walked off, laughing and patting each other on the back. Rick ignoring a sign for North Side as he headed off towards the exit with his new friends to his new life.

EPILOGUE

Rick sighed as he walked up to the bar, quickly ordering another shot of whisky and a beer. He glanced over at the group of good ol’ boys he’d been shooting the shit with all night - Jeb, Cletus, and Earl. They were all decked out in checkered shirts, faded jeans, and ball caps. Just like him now. It still felt so natural, even if some part of him couldn’t quite put his finger on what exactly seemed…off about the whole situation.

“Why do I feel like I’m just actin’ a part?“ he wondered to himself, frowning slightly, "Like I’m wearing someone else’s skin." 

Shaking his head, he tried to push the strange thoughts aside. Where were these thoughts coming from? Where else would he want to be? He was just a good ol’ boy enjoying a cold one with the boys after a kick-ass country concert. His thoughts were interrupted as a new song started playing in the bar. Rick knew this song… knew this band… a small smile gracing his lips.

"North Side.” He muttered, his foot tapping to the beat of the music, “Well I’ll be…”

He felt a wave of nostalgia wash over him- a yearning for something he couldn’t quite understand in his slower mind. And as the music continued to strum at some past memory, the redneck couldn’t help but notice the striking Latino man with soulful eyes and a captivating smile, clearly enjoying the song as much as he was. 

“Well, would ya look at that.” Rick muttered under his breath, “Seems like that fella’s got good taste in tunes, at least.”

Compelled by a force he couldn’t explain, Rick walked over to the man. His thoughts, once focused on music, instead shifted as he drank in the sight of the handsome Latino. The way he smiled, the way his dark hair was styled, the way his shirt hugged his muscles. Rick felt his dick stir.

“Howdy there, friend,” Rick drawled, tipping his hat politely, “Name’s Rick. Can’t help but notice you seem mighty fond of this here tune, same as me.”

Alvaro looks up at the man, “Buenas noches. The name’s Alvaro.”

Rick’s eyes flash with recognition, “You mean the Alvaro? Like Alvaro Altuve? I reckon I recognized you from somewhere!”

Alvaro grinned, “Always happy to meet a fan.”

Rick paused for a second, captivated by the singer’s smile. The two stared at one another before Alvaro beckoned him to take a seat at the bar. Rick happily accepted the two chatting it up, their conversation flowing naturally- like two old friends. Their knowledge about North Side and their interest in the band not fitting with their outward appearance.

“I would’ve never expected you to like North Side.” Alvaro laughed.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He chuckled, throwing an arm around the man’s shoulder. They both blushed at the mere touch, and Rick pulled his arm away, “Well, I reckon I was always a fan, I think.” Rick shrugged and Alvaro grinned.

“Makes sense! You were the one who introduced me to them after all.” Those words hung in the air, the two became silent and stared at one another- their expressions shifting, their eyes conveying a faint recognition.

Rick, Alvaro knows Rick. He doesn’t know how he does but something deep within him pangs with familiarity or deja vu. Judging by the expression on the cowboy’s face it seems as if there’s some pang of memory behind his eyes as well. Alvaro stares at the fan wondering if he just saw the man at his concert or something but knows that dressed like he is, that cannot be the case, and then he sees his lips struggle to say, “C- Calv- Calvin?”

At once both men flash back. They were having lunch together, as they have done countless times throughout the years. Eric sees his friend who could scarcely put two Spanish words together, Calvin sees his bestie that would never be caught dead in a cowboy hat. They’re just talking shit as friends do when Eric gasps at a notification on his phone, “Dude- North Side is back!”

Before they left the table, the pair had bought tickets to the CYT festival and had begun planning what they were going to wear. Not for a moment wondering what else they’d care to see at the festival, why should they? They were going to see their favorite band of all time and they were going to do so together. 

Together. 

Back in the present as they look at each other in their new forms. Alvaro sees the sweaty, hairy chest of the good old southern man in front of him. Rick sees the effortlessly alluring manicured body of a latin rock star staring back at him. Together has a different spot in both their minds as they hear a grindr notification go off somewhere in the distance. Might as well see what their new bodies can do.

As quick as their feet can travel they’re in Alvaro’s trailer. Attempts to trawl out memories from who they were are fruitless or painful, so instead they delight in the present. The artist cannot believe how enticed he is by the smell of cheap whiskey and cheaper beer on the man’s breath. Rick is less discerning as he hungrily delights in the sweaty musk of the man who was on stage not all that long ago. 

Rick’s rough beard scratches against Alvaro’s neck as he takes a deep breath, he hears a deep whisper from the performer, “volve loco, vaquero.” He growls and his arms shake as he sees no reason to not obey man. Music playing in the background rapidly shifts from Alvaro’s own album, to the b-sides of the Blue Sky Dreamers, to the music that brought them into these new lives, North Side. Before fading altogether and leaving them alone with the sound of their bodies.

With each passing moment in the heady enjoyment of their new selves they feel their identities cemented. Rick’s clean-pressed closet wiped away for life on a farm, his pen-pushing 9-to-5 is nothing compared to the outdoor lifestyle he far prefers. Alvaro’s whole country of origin irrevocably changed, while he loves the life he’s found in the states they will never be where he’s from.

With each thrust they bury their past lives. Rick is and always has been a rough and tumble, rugged man. The rockstar life may be new to Alvaro, but he has always been a musician, even when he was just a small-town artist playing in cantinas. Despite their pasts being erased and their new lives becoming the only reality they know, they remain together. 

Sweatily making out in a trailer as Alvaro struggles to stop the cowboy from leaving cum stains on his stage outfit, when they are together something just feels right. While everything in the world around them may point otherwise, when they are in each other’s arms, everything just seems to make more sense. Even after they’re done having their fun, something remains between them, pulling them together. 

Sheepishly eying the cowboy as he pulls up his Levi’s, Alvaro doesn’t want to let him go, “Oi, vaquero?” The cowboy looks up thankfully, he’d never say as much but even life on the ranch doesn’t hold a match to the past hour with Alvaro, “Queiro- Do you wanna have lunch?” 

“Thought chu’d never ask-”

Neither would’ve guessed what their relationship would evolve into. Initially, it was the talk of the town. The Latin heartthrob and the rough-and-tumble country boy seemed like a totally unlikely couple. Some called it a publicity stunt, others whispered that it would never last. But through it all, Alvaro and Rick stood strong, their bond growing deeper with each passing day.

Alvaro strummed a guitar softly, while Rick leaned back in his chair, a contented smile on his face. The radio playing softly in the background- the familiar beat of North Side’s music playing.

“Ya know,” Rick said, breaking the comfortable silence, “I still can’t believe we went from two strangers at a bar to…”

“To this,” Alvaro finished, setting down his guitar and taking Rick’s hand in his own, “And I wouldn’t have it any other way, mi amor.”

The two held each other closely, while North Side continued to play in the background.

[ninisdollie]

Just for the glory - Sim Jake 𓈒ིུ ❤︎ ˖ ݁

✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ .demigods series

Synopsis: Jake Sim, son of Hermes and captain of cabin 11 at the camp halfblood, is known as the best swordsman of his generation. With his swordsmanship and unshakable confidence, his life seems perfectly under control, until you, challenge him to a sword duel. In front of the entire community, Jake accepts the challenge, confident in his victory. However, he soon discovers that you are not just a beautiful face, but a formidable warrior with skills that surprise him. Amid the fierce competition and growing tension, you two are caught by an unexpected spark. As your hearts begin to intertwine, Jake will have to face a new kind of battle: the duel between pride and love.

Content: +18MDNI fem! reader x jake, pjo au, hermes! son jake x aphrodites! daugther reader, jake is a little cocky i based his character on my man luke castellan ok, violence (sword duel), cursing, sexual tension, oral sex (f recieving), praising, worshipping, dirty talk, explicit sex.

Word count: 10.2k (a bit long but so worth it i swear)

taglist at the end, likes and reblogs are appreciated !!

In camp Halfblood, everybody knew who you were.

Or at least, they thought they knew.

You were the ideal Aprhodite's daughter. Sweet, always soft-spoken, smiling with a kind word for everyone. You helped your sibilings braid their hair before every meal, the younger ones seeing you as an older sister who they always could count on, the older having the necessity of taking care of you. You left little handmade gifts in front of every cabin, just because, and remembered the name of even the shyest campers. You were grace in motion, impeccable manners in every movement, the very picture of your mother's legacy.

Didn't raise your voice, didn't loose temper. You didn't need to. People naturally flocked to you, drawn in by your calm presence and genuine warmth. Your reputation was spotless, your charm unmatched. No one had ever seen you in a real fight. You were considered the peace, where every demigod landed when they were feeling tired, struggling with the heavy air of the camp.

You wore vanilla scented perfume, braided your hair in beautiful, creative ways, decorating with flowers and colorful petals, your clothes always placed beautifully over your body, enchancing your figure. Your hands were gentle, soft fingers with perfect manicure as you helped wounded demigods and waved at the little kids that looked up to you as a mother they never had. A soft, wide smile in your lips, always glistening with lip gloss.

And to be honest, you liked it that way.

"Your strength is in your beauty, and your charm" your mother had said to you once, through a dream, when you first got claimed "Make me feel proud."

Nobody expected anything from you, beyond being lovely and helpful, but that was good, because you were free to move in silence. And although you enjoyed the vision people had of you, you took that into advantage, even if you and your siblings weren't taken very seriously, you wanted to feel powerful, to reach glory. It's what every demigod truly desired, and you weren't the exception.

You were hungry for it, ambition became your dna.

So you let them see only what you wanted.

They didn't see the girl that trained secretly until sunrise, even when you hated early mornings, the girl that read and memorised love poetry but dreamt about the battlefield, the girl that watched Ares kids closely to learn about their movements and strategies, the girl that hurt herself a lot of times trying to perfect her skills with the sword, the arch, and every other existing weapon. You had your own powers, the ones your mother had blessed you with (charmspeak, cursing) but you wanted more.

You didn't really had to prove yourself to anyone, everybody already loved you, but you did it because you could, because you wanted to. Because love isn't always soft, it's protective, fierce, and sometimes it required a blade.

In the moonlight, you drew your hidden blade, an elegant shortsword, delicate-looking, but perfectly balanced. You began to move, each step practiced and precise. Your form was fluid, flawless. There was no hesitation in your strikes, no wasted movement. You moved like water, graceful, calm... deadly.

Few knew about this side of you. You didn’t train to impress anyone. You trained for yourself. For the day someone would push too far. For the day someone would need protecting. For the day you’d have to prove that love isn’t weakness.

✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ .

The morning sunlight spilled across Camp HalfBlood like golden syrup, warm and slow. At the Aphrodite cabin, everything was already in perfect order. Beds were made, mirrors sparkled, and the scent of roses and vanilla drifted lazily through the open windows.

You sat on a velvet couch, humming softly as you helped your youngest sister adjust a flower crown on her beautiful, long hair.

“There.” you said with a gentle smile, tucking a strand of honey-blonde hair behind the little girl’s ear. “You look like a dryad princess.”

Your siblings adored you, and you enjoyed spending time with them like this, quiet, calm, just like you always were. They were like the little family you never had.

Your little sister turned and hugged you “You’re the best, Y/N.”

You kissed the top of her head. “Go get dressed, sweetheart.”

And just like that, the moment of peace shattered.

The cabin doors burst open with a loud bang, doors crashing the walls as your younger brothers came in running and heavy breathing, eyes opened wide.

“Y/N!” Sunoo, one of you brothers shouted breathlessly, his chest heaving, hair wild. “You gotta come see this, the Hermes kids are going at it in the sparring field! Like, full-on duel style! It’s insane!”

You chuckled, rolling your eyes with amusement. Hermes kids, they had the second place as the messiest ones in camp, just under Ares kids, of course. The whole cabin gasped, fluttering around the room with curiosity.

"Wait, like, real swords?" Your sister stared with big, surprised eyes, and you placed a hand on her head, trying to calm her down.

"It's Jake again, i knew someone would challenge him one day"

You blinked slowly, brushing invisible lint off your skirt. Of course, Jake Sim was the main character of today's exciting event.

Jake Sim had the kind of reputation that walked into a room before he did.

The moment someone said his name, you’d hear it all: "Best swordsman at camp," "Captain of Cabin 11," "Hermes' golden boy." He was fast, blindingly so, with reflexes sharper than his blade. Some swore they’d seen him disarm an opponent in under three seconds. Others claimed he could steal your weapon mid-swing and hand it back with a wink.

He wasn’t just skilled. He was annoyingly skilled.

Jake had that effortless swagger, half grin, half smirk, full confidence. He could talk his way out of trouble, into hearts, and across borders. Born to the god of thieves and travelers, Jake carried that legacy like a badge of honor. He never stayed in one place too long, never let anyone too close, but somehow, everyone still wanted to be around him.

Even campers from other cabins, rival cabins, wanted to be his friend, or at the very least, seen near him. He was the kind of demigod others watched on the training field and thought, Yeah, that’s who I want to be when I stop tripping over my own sword.

He was cocky. No, scratch that, he was infuriatingly cocky. But the thing was... he could back it up. Every time.

Jake didn’t take most things seriously, except sword fighting. That was his sanctuary, his art. He trained like he had something to prove, even if no one could figure out what it was. People said he was strong enough to lead a quest on his own. Strong enough to beat a child of Ares in single combat. Strong enough to never lose.

So when someone mentioned a duel with Jake Sim, everyone came running. Because when Jake fought, it wasn’t just a match, it was a show.

"I'm telling you, sister, he's gonna chop that kid's head off"

You rose gracefully, smoothing down your perfectly pressed blouse. Your voice was calm, almost amused. But the sentence made you frown your eyebrows, you were always looking after the kids, so you naturally worried hearing your brother’s words.

"Well, if he's fighting a kid, i must go take a look then"

You quickly put your shoes on, not wasting time before heading out of the cabin.

The air outside was brisk with early morning chill, the kind that made your skin tingle and your senses sharper. You walked calmly across the training grounds, your footsteps light, unhurried. A few of your siblings trailed behind you, excited whispers bouncing between them.

When you reached the edge of the sparring field, the crowd was already thick. Campers from nearly every cabin had gathered in a wide circle, forming a loose ring around the action. You stepped between two taller demigods, murmured a soft “excuse me,” and looked toward the center of the field.

There he was.

Shirt slightly rumpled, curls tousled from the fight, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth like he was enjoying himself just a little too much. His bronze sword flashed in the sunlight, fast and fluid, spinning in perfect arcs. His opponent, a short, golden haired son of Apollo, was panting, wild-eyed, struggling to keep up.

Jake wasn’t even sweating.

He dodged each swing with ease. Not out of necessity, out of amusement. His stance was relaxed, movements smooth, measured. He looked like he was playing. The boy lunged again, desperate, and stumbled.

Jake stepped aside, caught the boy’s wrist mid-swing, and twisted gently, not enough to break anything, but enough to send the sword clattering to the dirt. Then, with a flick of his own blade, he tapped it against the kid’s shoulder.

“Better luck next time, champ,” he said, voice light, teasing. “But maybe wait until you can hold the sword without it shaking, yeah?”

A few campers laughed. A few others didn’t.

Your brows knit as you stepped forward through the crowd. Of course he would find fun in fighting a younger, inexperienced boy, it only fed to his ego. Your heart shattered at the little boy's expression, that protectiveness nature in your eyes.

Your voice was soft, but it carried, clear and unmistakable.

“I expected more from you, Jake Sim.”

The laughter faded like a snapped string. Heads turned. Even the Apollo boy froze, eyes wide.

He hadn’t realized you were there. And yet, there you stood, poised, polished, and completely unreadable. The very picture of Aphrodite grace in a soft cream blouse, sunlight catching in your hair like a halo.

“Oh?” he said, lifting a brow. “And what exactly did you expect?”

You walked toward the center, graceful as ever. You knelt beside the boy first, murmured something too quiet for the others to hear, and gently helped him to his feet. Jake watched, his eyes following you slowly, and he swallowed, of course the first thing you’d do would be check on the boy. You gave him your handkerchief, embroidered, of course, and sent him off with a smile that was more comforting than any healing spell.

Then you straightened and turned to Jake, your tone polite, serene, and yet somehow sharper than any blade.

“A real swordsman knows the difference between a challenge and an easy win,” you said. “He doesn’t swing his pride at someone half his size just to prove he’s still the strongest.”

The crowd let out a soft ripple of ooooohs, but you didn’t flinch. You didn’t even raise your voice.

Jake’s jaw tightened, barely. His fingers flexed on the hilt of his sword. She’s calling you out. Not just for the fight. For everything. The showboating. The ego. The fact that you saw right through it, and weren’t afraid to say it.

For the first time all morning, Jake didn’t have a clever comeback ready. He studied you, this sweet, delicate Aphrodite girl with a quiet voice and ribbons in her hair, like he was seeing you for the first time. He knew you, but like every other demigod in camp, only your facade.

And he didn’t know what to make of you.

You tilted your head slightly, that same gentle smile on your lips.

"What could you know about it, princess?" His tone was sarcastic, teasing, his hand now resting on his hip.

Of course he would say that, always underestimating your lineage, you were used to that, but that didn't mean it didn't strike the wrong buttons in you.

You flipped your hair, lifting your shoulders into an almost lazy expression.

"I don't know, hero." an eyebrow lifted in your face "To be called the best swordsman here, i think that was kind of lame. Your evident hunger and overwhelming pride, you make them too obvious when you're fighting" You kept smiling, and you saw how his jaw clenched a bit. "It's going to be your downfall one day."

A fire lit in him, and you almost laughed, cocky men like him were so easy to get.

Then his smirk returned, slow and full of challenge.

“Careful, sweetheart. That sounded dangerously close to a challenge.”

Someone needs to stop him. Someone needs to remind him that strength isn’t just speed or skill. It’s restraint. It's knowing when to put the sword down.

You looked around.

No one moved.

Then, with a deep breath, you spoke.

"Maybe it was."

Challenge, delivered like a bouquet of roses with a blade hidden in the center. Jake felt something twist in his chest, something like adrenaline, but deeper. Like interest. Like curiosity.

He stepped forward, lowering his sword, just slightly. His eyes met yours, and the grin he gave you now was slower. Less cocky. More intrigued.

“Well,” he said, voice rich with anticipation. “Guess I finally found someone worth my time.”

Your hands stayed at your sides, calm as ever. But your eyes were sharper than glass. “Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

Jake chuckled, confident.

“Are you?”

You didn’t answer, just winked at him gracefully before turning around, taking the boy’s hand so you could go and help him get clean, all of your siblings following you, lips parted, still processing what just happened.

Camp’s best swordsman stayed there, watching you as you walked away, eyes lingering to you figure, half smirk still on his lips. Intrigued, curious. A little offended, to be honest.

But it didn’t matter. Revenge would be so sweet.

✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ .

“Are you out of your divine mind?!”

The room was a flurry of perfume, silk, and frantic hands as you stood calmly in the center, arms raised slightly as one of your sisters laced her bracers with delicate precision.

“You’re dueling Jake Sim.” Minjeong, your loudest sister, paced dramatically. “Jake. Sim. The golden boy of the entire camp. The guy who once beat two Ares kids in one match without even messing up his hair!”

“I heard he fought a drakon on a solo quest,” another added, wide-eyed. “With a stick.”

Of course they were worried, no other camper had dared to challenge him into a full, real duel, less say an Aprhodite kid, you guys weren't for the fight, it wasn't in your true nature. But you were different, and he was about to see that.

You gave them a soft smile.

“You forgot the part where he’s cocky, overconfident, and clearly underestimates me.”

“Babe, we all underestimate you. That’s the problem.”

You let out a soft laugh, brushing a hair behind your ear. “Good. That’ll make it more satisfying.”

Your siblings paused, blinking.

Then Minjeong narrowed her eyes. “Okay. Who are you and what did you do with Y/N?”

On the other side of the camp, Hermes cabin was buzzing.

“Dude, you are so dead,” one of Jake’s brothers laughed, slapping his shoulder as Jake tightened the straps on his armor.

“Nah,” another chimed in, flopping onto the bunk beside him. “He’s got this. It’s just Y/N.”

Jake didn’t look up. He was focused on adjusting his grip tape, his fingers moving fast. “Exactly. It’s just Y/N.”

But his jaw was clenched.

He wasn't just thinking about the duel itself, he was thinking about you. How you dared to call him out in front of everybody, not even raising your voice, not even making any expression. Just that damn, calm smile in your beautiful face, as if it was the most normal thing in the world. It made him burn, not only with anger, ego already hurt, but with something else, something he couldn't quite put his finger on.

“Yeah, but she called you out in front of everyone,” Jay pointed out with a grin. “Like… burned you alive and smiled while doing it.”

“Did you see her face?” a younger Hermes camper piped up. “She looked like she was about to give him a compliment and then murdered him.”

Jake snorted, finally cracking a grin. “She’s got teeth under all that sugar, huh?”

The others laughed, but Jake’s mind wasn’t entirely on their banter. He kept replaying your voice in his head, calm, soft, but piercing. The way you’d looked at him. Like you already knew exactly how this would end.

It wasn’t just your challenge. It was the fact that you hadn’t been angry. Or scared.

You’d been sure.

Jake had never gone up against someone like that before.

And it was messing with him.

✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ .

The field felt different that morning.

Quieter, somehow, like the entire camp was holding its breath.

Campers crowded along the perimeter, perched on rocks, benches, fences. Even a few nymphs had slipped out of the forest to see what the hype was about. Someone had dragged out a banner from last summer’s Capture the Flag game and hastily painted over it in red: JAKE SIM VS. Y/N – BEAUTY VS. THE BEST

Laughter. Shouting. Betting. It was a storm of noise.

Jake was already there, stretching his arms, rolling his shoulders. His sword gleamed at his side, and his hair caught the sun in just the right way, it was almost unfair how good he looked in a fight.

He looked up as soon as he felt you enter.

You stepped through the archway into the field like you weren't walking to a duel, more like you were entering a ballroom. Light-footed. Graceful. Composed.

Your armor was pale gold, custom-fit over soft rose-toned leather. Subtle floral engravings decorated the trim, and the sheath on your hip sparkled faintly with celestial bronze. Your sword was delicate and elegant, thinner than his, but no less dangerous.

For a second, the crowd went quiet again.

Jake couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his lips. You looked like a real life goddess, ready for war, but the delicacy, soft aura that sorrounded you still untouched.

It made his brain tickle, his throat dry. But he played it off.

“Didn’t know they made armor with perfume built in.”

You stopped a few feet away, tilting your head. “Didn’t know they made egos that big without divine intervention.”

Oof. That got a few laughs. You came with these type of comebacks so easily, never seemed touched by his comments, never letting anyone get under your skin.

Jake raised his hands in mock surrender. “Fair.”

His gaze was locked into yours, heavy, lit up, burning with something more than challenge or anger, it was an intense look, as if he was trying to figure you out, trying to look right through you.

A heartbeat passed.

Chiron stepped between you, tall and regal, his voice booming with authority. “Campers. This is a friendly duel. Training blades only. No fatal blows. First to disarm wins.” He looked between the two. “Understood?”

Jake gave a nod. “Sure.”

You smiled sweetly. “Of course.”

Your swords were exchanged for dulled celestial bronze training versions, enchanted to sting like Hades but not kill.

As Chiron backed away, the air thickened. The noise from the crowd melted into the background.

For a moment, neither of you moved.

You just watched each other.

Jake’s smirk faded into something quieter, measured. Curious. You stood with your blade at your side, calm and unmoved, like you were waiting for him to decide when the dance would start. The crowd was roaring behind you two, but Jake barely heard it anymore. You stood across the ring, your sword loose in one hand, eyes locked on his like you were the only two people in the world. Yours shining, sparkling with hunger, he could tell you’d been waiting for this, he just couldn’t understand why exactly.

Then the real game started.

You began to circle. Slowly at first. Measuring. Watching.

Jake’s feet moved in perfect rhythm, fluid, confident. He tilted his head slightly, sizing you up.

“You sure you’re not just here to impress your cabin?” he teased, voice low.

You smiled softly. “You sure you’re not just afraid to lose in front of yours?”

The way you said it, light, airy, like a flower petal on the breeze, made the jab land even harder.

Jake’s smirk twitched. Okay. Cute. You were cool. Calm. Unshaken.

But he knew how to break through that. He always did.

He feinted to the right, quick and sharp.

You didn’t flinch. Instead, your blade rose fast, just enough to parry if he committed. You didn’t overreact. You didn’t fall for it.

Interesting.

Jake took a step in and you mirrored it.

Two more steps.

Then Clash.

Your swords met in a flash of bronze, the sound ringing out like thunder. Your strike was fast. Faster than he expected. Not wild, not emotional, precise. Controlled. You pivoted on your heel, angling your body to minimise target space. Your movements were so clean, so deliberate.

Jake caught the blow, just barely. Your faces were close now, blades pressing, arms trembling with tension.

You were faster than he expected, stronger too. Your swords clashed again, ringing across the field, but Jake barely registered the sound. His focus narrowed, locked on the girl in front of him.

He’d never really looked at you before, not like this. You were always… in the background. The picture of perfection. Helping younger campers with their braids, organizing picnic tables, smiling like nothing in the world could touch you.

But this girl?

This girl moved like a storm pretending to be a breeze.

Every strike you threw was elegant, but lethal. Every step was soft, but deliberate. You were poetry in motion, graceful and deadly. And you weren’t just matching him, you were challenging him.

Jake gritted his teeth and swung again, forcing you to block high, then low. You countered with a fluid pivot that nearly knocked the blade from his hand.

The air was hot, the sun high in the sky, every eye on you two, on the fight. Long minutes passed between swings and hits, where neither of you seemed to be surrendering for now.

He was sweating, like actually sweating.

And you, gods, you still looked serene. Focused, unrattled. It should’ve pissed him off, it did a bit, but instead something in his chest twisted. Tight.

How the hell did he not notice you before?

You could feel his strength in every strike. The way he moved, clean, sharp, confident. There was a reason why they called Jake Sim the best swordsman of his generation.

You spun to the side, narrowly dodging a brutal downswing, and countered with a quick jab towards his side. He blocked it in time, but you saw the flicker in his eyes, surprise.

You weren’t playing anymore.

There was heat in his eyes, not just from the fight. Not from frustration, it was something else. Like curiosity, like awe.

You took a deep breath, and stepped back, reseting your stance. So did he. You were circling again, both breathing harder now, both sweating, neither smiling anymore.

The way you moved, each strike fast and precises, calculated like a chess player five moves ahead. You were good.

But Jake’s eyes kept drifting.

The curve of your shoulders as you pivoted. The way your braid swung behind you, like it was dancing with the wind. The way your perfect skin glistened beneath the sun and the sweat, a few strands sticked to your beautiful face, your makeup still perfectly applied, the way your body seemed to shine. Your armor, subtle, elegant, hugged your body like it has been made by Aphrodite herself. Which, honestly? Wouldn’t been shocking.

And then there were your eyes, focused, glowing, locked on him like a pretador pretending to be a prey.

You stepped into him, swung high. He blocked, but his grip slipped a little, the crowd gasping.

Pull it together, for fucks sake. He thought, tilting his head, chest moving up and down, lips parted as he caught his breath. But for some reason he couldn’t, not when you were this close, not when you smelled like roses and wildfire, sweet and soft. It made his skin shiver even if the day was hot beneath the burning sun. The sweat on his forehead falling along his whole face until it was dripping from his neck.

You spun again, graceful as a dancer, and your leg brushed his as you passed him. His mind scrambled for focus, he tightened his grip and turned, eyes locked on your back for a split second before you twisted around, blade raised. And smiling.

He was so in trouble.

You could feel it, the shift. Jake was still fighting, fast, precise, sharp like always. But there was something different in the way his sword moved now. A half second slower, a little less direct, his eyes weren’t on your blade anymore.

They were on you.

You ducked under his swing, twisted behind him, and let your fingers graze his side, not a hit, just barely a touch. And he froze. Then you stepped back into position, sword up again, and let your gaze flick down his chest, then back up, slow, enough for him to notice, fast enough to pretend it was accidental. This was a different game now, something unspoken.

Jake’s breath hitched.

“You okay there, Sim?” you asked sweetly, voice like honey and silk.

He scowled, but it was weak. His lips twitched like he wanted to smirk.

“Just adjusting.” he muttered, circling again.

You let your shoulders relax, body fluid as you moved. Your braid bounced with each step, catching the sunlight, you could feel his eyes on it. On you.

But you struck again, quick, sharp, letting your body press just a bit too close in the follow-through. He caught your blade, but his footing slipped, just slightly. Close enough to feel the warmth of his body, his arm brushing your waist, his breath was right there, hitting your cheek. It was now your skin’s turn to shiver.

You leaned in, whispered just loud enought for only him to hear.

“Still think this is just a friendly spar?”

His eyes met yours, heated, locked. Fire beneath them.

He didn’t answer, he didn’t need to. There was something floating between you two now, something more than just challenge. It was lust, intrigue, desire.

Jake was losing focus, and he knew it. Everytime he got close, you’d look at him like that, eyes calm, soft, but hiding the fire behind them. Like you knew you were pulling his strings and were enjoying every second of it.

He swung low, fast, but you danced out of range like you could read his thoughts, your movements were too smooth, too deliberate. You were baiting him. Then he circled to the left, feinted, struck high, and you caught it. Your blades locked again, faces inches apart, breath mingling.

Your lips were slightly parted, glistening, cherry lip gloss still perfectly applied.

Jake’s chest rose and fell with each breath, sweat slid down the back of his neck, and still, he couldn’t stop looking at your mouth.

You tilted your head, just slightly, close enough to be a whisper.

“You’re distracted.”

“I’m not.” He answered quickly, too quickly.

So you smiled. “You are.”

Your swords scraped as you held the lock, muscles trembling.

“Are you gonna try to kiss me, or are you gonna fight me?” you murmured, so low only he could hear.

And he blinked, just once. And in that exact half-second, you dropped your weight, twisted under his blade, and swept his legs out from under him with one clean, beautiful spin.

Thud.

He hit the ground, flat on his back, sword flying from his hand and skidding across the arena floor, eyes wide open as if he couldn’t believe it.

Then, the crowd exploded. Cheers, gasps, laughter. Your siblings jumping, hugging each other, kids from other cabins going crazy.

You looked around, getting an early hint of that glory you so much desired, that moment, where everyone seemed to be worshipping you, admiring you, you felt something you couldn’t describe. This was what demigods were made for, what you were born for. And today, today you proved it. You smiled at the crowd, bowing gracefully like a ballerina who just finished a perfect show, your siblings throwing pink, beautiful flowers at you, a few getting stuck in your hair.

Jake groaned and blinked up at the sky, still trying to catch his breath, his heart pounding hard in his chest. Then you stepped into his field of vision. You stood over him like a goddess in battle armor, your sword pointed gently at his chest, just where his racing heart was, one eyebrow raised in that maddening, perfect smile.

“Disarmed.” you said simply.

He stared up at you, breathless. Not because of his obvious lost, but because of you.

“Remind me never to underestimate Aprhodite’s kids again.”

You tilted your head, same sweet grin in your lips.

“We’re full of surprises.”

And then you offered him a hand, he stared at it for a few seconds, thinking, his head spinning, going circles, not because of the fall, not because he had been defeated, but because your smell was taking over all the air around him, and for some reason, he wanted his lungs full of it.

He finally took it, sweaty, hot palms against each other. Your fingers were warm, strong, and when you pulled him up, you were close, closer than before. Not just physically.

And suddenly, the duel didn’t feel like the end. It felt like the beginning of something much more dangerous.

✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ .

It had been three days. Three days since the duel. Since you, sweet, soft-spoken, perfect little Aprhodite’s daughter had knocked him flat on his back in front of half of the camp and walked away like it meant nothing.

Jake placed the edge of the training arena, jaw tight, arms crossed. The sun was setting behind the trees, casting long shadows across the field where he’d lost. Where you had disarmed him, humiliated him, and smiled while doing it.

His fingers twitched like they were still reaching for the sword you’d knocked away.

And fucking gods, it still pissed him off. Not because he lost, okay, a little bit.

But mostly because you hadn’t even looked surprised. Like you knew all along that you could take him down. Like it was easy. It was the way you looked at him while you fought, calm, focused, like you’d seen through every layer of swagger and charm he wore like armor.

And worse, it was the way he had looked at you, every curve of your body, every flick of your wrist, every step, graceful, purposeful, dangerous. How your figure moved, how your face stayed calm all the time, looking beautiful, perfect. His whole body shivered just at the memory. You hadn’t just beat him in duel.

You unraveled him.

Now he didn’t know what the fuck he wanted. Part of him wanted a rematch, part of him wanted to kiss you just to see if you would let him, part of him wanted to grab his sword, drag you back into the arena and lose on purpose just to feel that thrill again.

You’re Jake Sim. Son of Hermes. Captain of cabin 11. Everyone looks up to you.

How could he just walk up to the girl who beat him, who toyed with him, and say “Hey, i haven’t stopped thinking about you. You got under my skin and i don’t know what to do with that.”

It felt like surrender. And he never, never did that.

But what terrified him more than bruised pride, was the thought of never seeing you like that again. The thought of you walking away from whatever the hell this was.

Jake looked down at his hands, strong, calloused, steady. But for the first time, he didn’t know what to do with them.

The Aprhodite cabin was glowing in the afternoon light, sun filtering through silk pink curtains, the scent of jasmine and rosewater drifting in the air as some of your sibilings had a relaxing, spa day.

You sat on the edge of your sister’s bed, weaving ribbons through a braid with steady, practiced hands. Your touch was soft, gentle, perfect, as always. You smiled when your sister thanked you, gave her a quiet “Of course” and rose to help another camper fix the hem of a dress.

Your movements were calm, graceful.

But your thoughts? Nowhere near calm.

They were back in the arena. Back with the weight of Jake’s body hitting the ground, the way the crowd roared, the he’d looked up at you, surprised, winded, and just a little bit wrecked.

A thrill sparked in your chest all over again.

You did that.

For once, your strength hadn’d been hidden behind beauty or kindness or smiles. You’d shown it. Proved it. And not just to the camp, but to him.

And gods, the look on his face.

You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to suppress the grin creeping onto your lips as you adjusted a camper’s hair clip.

He’d looked at you like he couldn’t decide wether to fight you or fall for you. And if you were being honest with yourself, you kind of hoped it was both.

Because as much as you were proud of your win, of the way you’d flipped him on his back in front of everyone, you couldn’t stop thinking about the tension in his jaw. The heat in his eyes, the sweat falling from his neck, his dark hair sticked to his forehead, his plump, perfect lips parted as he tried to catch his breath. The way his voice dropped.

There had been something there. Not just in the way you two moved, but in the pause between your strikes. The almost-touch, the almost-kiss. The hunger for something unspoken that wasn’t just glory.

He hadn’t spoke to you since then, not once. Was it pride? Or was he trying to stay away from you?

The idea of him thinking about you, fighting with the same pull, made your chest tighten in a way that was far too satisfying.

✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ .

In the armory, the air was thick with the scent of oiled leather and iron. Faint dust danced in golden rays of afternoon light cutting through the narrow windows. It was quiet. Undisturbed. You decided to go there to pick a few new weapons for this year's Capture the Flag, after all, you were the camp's new favorite warrior.

But then Jake Sim walked in.

His boots echoed slightly against the stone floor. He didn’t speak at first, he just watched you.

You stood with your back to him, delicately running your fingers along the line of dagger belts laid across a wooden table. The soft curve on your neck, the gentle sway of your hair, Jake’s eyes followed every detail like it was dangerous.

Because it was.

His heart was racing and he knew exactly why, it was because of you, because of the thoughts he had been having about you, about what you did to him and what he wanted to do to you. It was driving him crazy.

“You always this graceful picking out weapon straps?” he finally said, voice just low enough to carry.

You turned, slowly, as if you’d known he was watching all along. His raspy voice echoing, you suppressed a smirk. He was wearing the camp shirt, tightened around his chest because of his muscular body, veins popping under the slightly tanned skin of his arms, hair perfectly slicked back, that same, cocky, confident smirk in his lips. It made you want to kill him or jump right onto him an devour him.

“Only when i know someone is staring.” you said with a smile so subtle it felt like a secret.

Jake’s heart kicked hard in his chest again.

You were dressed simply, white tank top and cotton shorts, your usual camp gear. But the way you stood there, confident and completely at ease, made it impossible to look away. Your lips were glossed with something soft and pink. Your eyes sparkled, playful, unreadable. Your beautiful, long eyelashes decorated with perfectly applied mascara, a soft red blush on your cheeks.

“Didn’t expect to see you here”. You said, drifting closer to the display, tracing the edge of a bronze buckle.

Jake leaned against the nearby bench, arms crossed, trying to look unbothered. Trying.

It was the first time you two were talking after the events in the arena, the first time you two were alone, in a room, with those drowning feelings that none of you had put the finger on, it was like a recipe for disaster. And you were about to fall inside of it, deep.

“Didn’t expect you to haunt my thoughts either, but here we are.”

Your eyes lifted. And there it was, that flicker of fire beneath the calm, sweet surface. Made him want to forget all of his pride and kneel down in front of you to worship you.

“You’ve been thinking about me?” A shiver went down your spine when he smirked, cocky out of habit, but inside he was drowning.

“You beat me in front of everyone. It’s hard to forget something like that.”

Was it just that? Or something else? Something heavier, deeper, hotter. You didn't know. Jake was a cocky man, pride showered him like a second skin, you knew it was hard for a demigod like him letting those words leave his mouth, and for some reason, it was satisfying.

“Mmm.” You murmured, stepping a little closer. “I think you liked it.”

Jake didn’t respond, he couldn’t. You were closer now, not enough to touch, but gods, it was close. He could see every detail of you, the way your lips parted as you breathed, the faint blush rising to your cheeks, the slight rinse and fall of your chest, you beautiful, perfect body.

And you were watching him, really watching him. Not just for his words, but for every breath he took. The air filled with tension, desire, something unbereable.

“You’re tense.” You said softly, eyes dropping to his clenched jaw.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not.”

You took another step forward, the tips of your fingers brushed the hem of his shirt, not enought to count as a touch, but just enough to promise one. His body tensed, his gaze locked with yours, intense, deep.

“You’ve been acting like you’re unaffected. But i see the way you look at me, Jake.”

His throat went dry, he didn’t move. If he moved, he wasn’t sure he’d been able to stop himself. He was a man with ambition, who always followed his desires. And right now, they weren’t innocent desires.

You tilted your head slightly, he fucking loved when you did that, when you acted all innocent and pure, and maybe you were, but now he was seeing right through it, and your lips now were barely a breath from his.

“Say it.” You whispered, challenging him, once again, doing the thing that drove him crazy.

Jake stared at you, jaw clenched, heart hammering. His pride screamed to hold back, to play it off, to make a cocky comment. But the desire? The desire had been clawing at his insides since the second you’d walked into his life.

“You’re driving me insane.” He said finally, low, deep voice as he spoke “And i don’t know if i want to kiss you or throw my sword at your head.”

And you laughed, soft and slow, your whole body twitching a his confession. Because you felt that too, you’d been wanting, all of it, too, to fight him again, to win again, to kiss him, to feel him.

“You want to kiss me.” You said simply.

Then, finally, he moved.

One hand reached up, cupping the side of your face. His strong, calloused thumb brushed along your jawline, slow, reverent, fingertips tickling. His other hand found your waist, fingers flexing against the fabric of your tank top. He looked at you like you were the most dangerous thing he’d ever faced, and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to fight or surrender.

“Tell me to stop.” He whispered, voice rough, shaky, hot breath against yours.

“Don’t you dare.”

And he kissed you.

Not rough, not rushed. But deep, like he’d been starved for you and didn’t know how to go slow. Your hands slid into his hair, pulling him closer. You kissed him like you knew exactly how long he’d been holding back, like you’d been holding back too.

The room spun, the rest of the world fell away.

There was only the heat of his mouth, the press of his body against yours, the way your breaths tangled like you were trying to inhale each other. Your lips were moving above each others at a slow, almost teasing pace, like the one you had in the battlefield, dancing while little sighs left both of your mouths, hot breaths colliding. His lips were soft, plushed, and he tasted sweet, it made you tremble and you had to wrap your arms around his neck, bringing him closer, deeper. Jake whimpered, opening his mouth and sticking out his tongue, exploring your mouth with it and tangling it with yours, sending that familiar shiver down your spine.

He slid his hand from your waist to the small of your back, pulling your flush against him, your fingers were tangled in his hair, tugging just enough to make his breath hitch. He let out a soft sound in the back of his throat, frustration, relief, desire.

When you bit gently at his lower lip, he growled.

“Gods.” he muttered into your mouth. “You’re going to ruin me.”

And you laughed against him.

In one smooth, desperate morion, he lifted you, hands gripping under your exposed thighs as you gasped, and set you up on the workbench behind you. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist, locking him in. The bench creaked beneath you, old wood protesting, but neither of you cared.

Your hands then slipped beneath the edge of his shirt, palms pressed to his warm, tanned skin. You felt the tension in him, tight and coiled like a spring ready to snap. Jake kissed you like he’d been starving, like every second of restraint he’d shown since the duel had been building to this one moment. His hands were everywhere, your thighs, your waist, your back, memorising you.

He pulled back just enough to look at you. Your cheeks were flushed, your lips swollen, lip gloss ruined, your eyes dark and bright and locked on him like he was something you couldn’t quite resist either.

“I tried not to want this.” He admitted, breath ragged.

You touched his face, gentle, detailing every inch of his gorgeous features. “I didn’t.”

He exhaled a soft laugh, forehead dropping to your shoulder.

“Of course you didn’t.” He murmured, smiling against your skin. “You’re too damn perfect.”

You slid your fingers through his hair again, dark brown strands between them, nail grazing lightly at his scalp. “Still think i’m just a pretty girl?”

Jake pulled back to meet your eyes again.

“No.” He said, voice low and sure “You’re dangerous, and i want more.”

And then he kissed you again, deep, slow, like he really meant it this time. Like it wasn’t just heat or revenge or rivarly anymore.

Like it was want, it was real.

And you let him, opening your mouth and recieving his wet, warm tongue, sucking it and letting out little sounds that only made him kiss you harder, his rough hands now caressing the skin of your thighs, gripping a little tight like wanting to mark his fingers, his kiss becoming sloppier, needier, he wasn’t holding back anymore. The stubborness in you had faded away, since the moment he put his lips above yours, and right now, you were going to let him do as he pleased, because you wanted that too.

So you slid your delicate, smooth hands beneath his shirt, now touching the bare skin of his abs, tracing the perfectly built lines, thanks to his training, then his chest, then down again, deleiting yourself with that soft skin, that was burning beneath your fingers, and he whimpered again, biting your lip so hard that it stinged a little, but you didn’t care, you just moaned, low, softly, and he lost his mind. Because his hands now traveled to your covered ass cheeks, squeezing them tight above the cotton of your shorts, shamelessly groping as if he’d never touched anyone before, because the sound that left his throat was different this time. And you squirmed, the shiver that once was settled on your spine moving down all the way to your core, ending up in a wetness that you couldn’t ignore.

He broke the kiss, but only to bring his face to the curve of your neck, kissing there, sucking, licking, hot and wet tongue against your skin, and you tilted your head, giving him more space, eyes closed as you sighed.

“Fuck, this damn smell.” He whispered with broken voice, lust being the only tone in it “It’s been driving me crazy.”

You bit your lip when he caught your skin between his teeth, biting, marking, slightly arching your back, your covered breasts making contact with his chest, and he pulled back, resting his forehead against yours, practically breathless.

“You want this, right here?” he asked, deep in his heart wishing you’d say yes.

And of course, you nodded, fluttering your eyelashes in that way that made his knees weak.

So he wasted no time, grabbing the hem of your tank top and lifting it over your shoulders, sliding it out of you with desperation, your bare, perfect breasts in front of him, nipples hard the second the air made contact with them. And his face, he looked completely wrecked as he admired you. Dark, lustful but shiny eyes taking in every inch of your body. He was sure that you were Aprhodite herself brought to life.

His face buried in your chest, hand cupping one of your breasts and tongue licking and sucking into the other, and you moaned high pitched, arching your back again and gripping his hair wanting to feel him closer, your whole body shivering, the wetness between your legs now completely impossible to ignore. The sound of his mouth against your skin combining with your whimpers, your legs trembling, no man had ever touched you like that before, like worshipping you.

“J-Jake…” you moaned, biting your lip, eyes sparkling filled with need and desire and hunger.

“You’re a fucking goddess.” He whispered, not letting go of your nipple, hand squeezing. “I’d let you ruin my whole life.”

That was the hottest thing someone had ever said to you, and you whimpered, stretching your hand so you could touch him again, helping him slid out of his shirt, this one ending up on the floor along your tank top. And the sight was breath taking, his glistening, tanned skin, his toned abs, his pumped chest, the veins in his arms. He was a god too, you were sure about that. Your hand ended up sliding beneath his cargo pants, palm making contact with his already hardened member, and he growled again, thrusting his hips needfully to meet with your touch. He was thick, hard, throbbing through his boxers, and you whimpered again when he did the same to you, manly hand finding your clothed pussy, rubbing his fingers against you, your wetness noticeable through the thin, laced fabric of your underwear.

"Do you taste just as sweet as you smell?" He whispered, in your ear, teeth biting your earlobe, you didn't respond, not being able too, your whole body feeling like it was on fire.

Your legs threatened to close, but he kept his other hand on your kneee, forcing you open, thumb rubbing circles against your swollen, clothed clit. Then, in just a second, your back crashed with the wall as he slid down your shorts, and underwear, throwing them on the floor and just taking a second to admire you. Your face was red, you were now naked, there, in the armory, in front of him, and the look in his eyes was completely different. He was broken. His gaze trailed down your body, your breasts, your torso, between your legs, your beautiful, heavenly pussy in front of him, dripping, wet, glistening, needy.

He didn't say anything, he couldn't find the words to even try to describe you. So he knelt down, like a mortal in his favourite goddess altar, hands gripping your thighs, tight, he wet his lips with his tongue, and your hands found his hair again, he closed his eyes as you caressed him. Few seconds passed, and he leaned in, face buried between your legs, looking so gorgeous, but so fucked. And then, a long, soaked, warm lick, his tongue traced a slow line in your folds, and you screamed, throwing your head back. And the sound he let out, was almost unnatural.

Jake kept his eyes closed as he sucked your clit, tongue tracing circles before starting to suck you, tasting you, swallowing you, devouring you. He ate you out like an starved man, spitting and licking and whining against your soaked pussy, nose rubbing with your aching clit, and you could only whimper and moan, rocking your hips into his face, begging him to never stop. And he wouldn't dare, because you were the sweetest thing he'd ever put in his mouth, in that moment, he wanted to die between your legs. His face was a mess, chin soaked in your arousal, cheeks red, eyes still closed. One finger found your entrance, sliding between your walls so good and your pussy clenched around it, the wood beneath your body completely soaked, sticky with your sweat and fluids.

"So sweet." He whispered, his hot breath crashing with the skin of your inner thighs, and then he opened his eyes, dark gaze locked with yours.

His finger thrusted inside and out of you, lips wrapped around your clit, and you whined, your legs shaking, twitching, trembling, sweat starting to fall down your forehead. Second finger slid, curling inside of you, stretching you so good, brushing teasing your g-spot.

“G-Gods.” You whined, pulling strands of his hair.

Jake then stood up again, cleaning his lips with his palm before devouring your mouth again, and you could taste yourself in his hot mouth, your dripping pussy still pulsing, clenching around nothing. But not for too long, because he slid two of his fingers inside of you again, deep, hard, rough, now really fucking you with them, curling them and bumping them into your g-spot over and over again, spreading your walls, soaking them with your fluids.

“Fuck, you’re leaking.” his voice was so weak, so broken. “Can’t wait to feel you. Been wanting this since you called me out with that beautiful face.”

Palm was crashing with your clit, fingers moving in and out fast, the wet sounds and moans being the only ones in the hot, barely illuminated room. Your whole body tensed, showered in pleasure.

Then Jake pulled them out, and you whined, teary eyes looking at him like really full of desire, of want, of need. And he couldn’t hold back anymore, not when you were so perfect, so gorgeous. So made for him.

So he finally, finally took his member out, throbbing, thick, hard, veins popped up, red tip leaking, he was full of need too. And your eyes shined, your mouth watered, the lust taking you over. He didn’t wait much, he couldn’t, so he stroked himself a few times, jaw clenched and hisses through his teeth, he rubbed his tip between your folds, teasing you and himself, one hand gripped to your waist, marking. And then, he slowly slid in, and you grabbed his shoulders for balance, because the feeling crushed your brain and body, his thick length stretching you as good as his fingers, deep, slow, you watched as it disappeared inside of you. And he groaned, low, eyes sticked to yours, thrusting his hips a few times, still at a slow pace, like not wanting the sensation to go away so fast.

“Fucking hell” he bit his lip, moaning. “You’re so tight, this is the most perfect pussy ever.”

You let out a cry once his thrusts became faster, rougher, skins crashing making an obscene sound as his cock disappeared inside of you, his eyes sticked to your face, not wanting to miss any of the expressions you were making, your beautiful, perfect face ruined by the pleasure. But he was no different, his jaw tight, his eyebrows frowned, hisses leaving his parted lips as he moaned and growled like an animal. The once perfectly made braid in your hair was now messy, a few strands sticked to your face, your eyes teary, your forehead full with sweat, your lips sore because of how much you were biting them.

One hand cupped your breast again, squeezing hard, as if he couldn’t keep his hands off of you, of your perfect body. And the other found your aching, swollen clit, messy circles at the pace of his thrusts, he rolled his hips harder into you, going so deep, you could feel him in every inch of your insides, the pleasure showering you, your brain completely shut down. You moaned high pitched, hiding your face in the curve of his neck, eyes closed as you saw stars.

“You like it?” he asked, a smirk in his lips, his cocky nature still in him, breathless, between thrusts “Tell me, please, need to hear you say it, princess.”

The nickname wasn’t sarcastic anymore, it was affection in it, worship, devotion.

And you whined against his skin, filling your lungs with his sweaty, manly smell, nodding, desperate, needy.

“Y-Yes. Please don’t stop.”

So using his incredible strength, he pulled out, but he made you put your feet on the ground, flipping you over so your chest was now against the wood of the counter, and he slid in again, grabbing your hips, bumping deeper thanks to the new position, head of his cock reaching your g-spot immediately, and you cried against the surface as tears rolled down your cheeks, ruining your mascara. His thighs crashed against your asscheeks, his movements now sloppier, erratic, he was really fucking you now.

But to be fair, you fucked him first, just in a different way.

He kissed down your back, everywhere, sucking too, wanting to mark every inch of your soft skin, and you arched your back, thrusting backwards meeting with his hips, nails scratching the wood beneath you.

This wasn’t just fucking. This was him discharging all of his frustration and anger in you, but not in bad way, in a i fucking trust you and worship you as a goddess way. And it was driving you crazy, you had the strongest man in camp moaning your name and mind-fucked and wanting to die inside of you.

Jake’s hand placed your braid over your shoulder, now kissing your neck again, whispering sweet words in your ear, voice wrecked and weak, crushed by his own moans and groans.

“You’re so perfect. I wanna worship you all my life. I want you to see me, to humiliate me again, i don’t care, i’d fight with you all the time just to keep your eyes on me.” He was mumbling, completely pussy drunk. But you were too, because he stretched you so good, because the warmth of his weigth was just too much, you sniffed through your nose, whining.

“J-Jake…” you moaned again, the knot on your lower belly starting to built. And he understood, because his fingers brushed your clit again, fast, rough. Your legs were trembling, your knees weak, the air so hot, you felt like you were about to pass out.

He grabbed your throat, not hard enough to choke, just to hold, to make you raise your head so he could kiss you again, dirty, sloppy, angry. His tongue explored your mouth once again, and his movements were completely erratic, senseless, he was close too. A few drops of his sweat soaked your face, combining with the saliva falling from the corner of your mouths. The way we kissed you, the way he touched you, the way he fucked you. Not only made you whimper because you were an Aprhodite girl, not only because it flattered you, but because it was him.

And you broke, body completely wrecked, back arched as you screamed so high pitched and came all around his cock, the orgasm taking you over, your pussy dripping, clenched tight around him, your heart racing, your eyes rolled to the back of your head. He came too, because the look of your climax was just the peak of perfection in his eyes, and he didn’t hold himself back, guttural groan leaving his throat as his orgasm made him leak inside of you, warm, creamy fluids filling you up, thrusts becoming slower, weaker, his pulsing cock discharging all of his pleasure.

Neither of you spoke for a few seconds, he didn’t pull out, didn’t move, part because he couldn’t, part because he didn’t want to. You felt his lips on your cheek, sweet, slow, his breath making your skin jump. But you couldn’t move either, you didn’t feel like yourself, the whole room was spinning, your body felt like floating. You sighed deeply, trying to regain balance.

Then Jake finally pulled out, slow, and his cum dripped between your folds, and down your legs. His eyes sparkled, the view just so perfect for him to handle.

“Are you ok?” He asked softly, grabbing your waist so you’d stood up, his eyes were still lit up.

You cleaned the sweat of your face with your hands, trying but failing to fix your hair. Then you smiled, same sweetness as ever. Even after he literally fucked you.

“I think you broke me.” You joked, voice still weak, but your eyes were sparkling too, something new awakened inside of you, and him. Between you two.

Jake chuckled, still a bit breathless, but he started to pick up your clothes, shaking them because of course, you could never wear something dirty.

“Well, princess. Call that a rematch.”

And you rolled your eyes, pushing his chest surprisingly strong, he almost tripped. Then you both laughed.

He kissed you again. Sweet, soft, and you didn’t want him to stop. Ever again.

✧˚⋆ ˖ ࣪ .

“How long are they gonna keep going with this?” Sunoo groaned, rolling his eyes and resting his head on your little sister’s shoulder, her smiling, amused by the scene in front of them.

The sun hung lazily over camp Halfblood’s training field, glints of sunlight off polished bronze blades. A few kids crowded at the edge of the ring, sitting on logs and leaning over the rails, whispering at each other.

“They’re still going.”

“Twenty minutes.” A Hermes camper confirmed, eyes locked on the fight. “And they haven’t stopped once.”

You stood across from Jake, your sword poised gracefully, a bead of sweat running down the side of your face, your stance was perfect, shoulders relaxed, chin lifted, eyes sharp.

Jake… was smiling.

“Tired, princess?” He asked, circling you slowly.

“You wish, hero.” you shot back, shifting your grip. “I could do this all day.”

“Yeah?” Jake twirled his sword lazily “You gonna keep staring at me or actually fight?”

“Hard to fight someone when they’re too busy admiring themselves”

Your sisters went oooh. And Jake smirked.

You rolled your eyes, but your smile tugged at the corner of your lips. Your blades met with a clash, steel, sparkling, footwork fluid and fast. But it wasn’t just training. You had a rythym now, a dance you both knew by heart. Teasing swipes, parried blows, a spin that brought you two almost chest to chest.

“You’re holding back.” Jake whispered low enough for only you to hear, breath brushing your cheek.

“So are you.” you whispered back, voice like silk. “What are you afraid of?”

He didn’t answer.

Instead, he lunged, and you spun. Your blades locked high, too high. One step, a slip. Your foot caught the edge of the sand pit, Jake reached out instinctively, grabbing your waist.

You fell.

Right onto the training mat, you landing on top of him with a surprised gasp, tangled up in his limbs and laughter.

Neither of you moved.

You hovered over him, bracing your hands on his chest, his heart pounding beneath your palms.

“You ok?” You asked softly.

“Perfect.” Jake breathed, but his eyes were fixated on your lips.

There was a beat, a long, electric pause. No teasing, no taunts. Just tension, want. Something warm and stupid and real blooming in his chest.

And then he leaned up, meeting you halfway.

The kiss was soft at first, just a brush of lips, like a secret shared in plain sight. But then it deepened, slow and certain.

Until you finally broke apart, breathless and flushed, Jake rested his forehead against yours.

“Still think we’re just sparring?” you murmured, teasing smile in your voice.

Jake grinned. “Definitely not.”

From the sidelines, Jay, one of his brothers shouted.

“Get a cabin!”

But Jake reached up, brushed a strand from your face, and smirked. Eyes sparkly, lost, completely in love.

“I told you i’d win.”

“I let you fall.” you whispered, kissing the corner of his mouth. “Don’t get cocky.”

taglist

@gulicore @bussolares @vixialuvs @berryloveseunghan @lilifiedeans @m1kkso @usuallyunlikelyfox @jayjw16enxp @starfallia @bellsjakesgf @zuwishii @cutehoons02 @immelissaa @nyxtwixx @kayjiguki @emisluvr @k1ttyjwon @koizekomi

thank you so much for reading!! hope you enjoyed <3 it would help me a lot if you liked/repost but i’m happy knowing that someone even read this !!

heeseung’s drabble next !!

[anglbunny]

I HAD ANOTHER IDEA AND I KNOWWWW YOULL BE ABLE TO EXECUTE IT.

so can i maybe request a sae itoshi who’s struggling to keep the nonchalant act with fwb!reader when jealousy takes over him????????????? ikkkk u see the vision.

BTW UR THE BEST. LOVE U 😛😛

.ᐟmore than nothing ♡ sae

.ᐟcw: fwb but feeling, smut mdni, sae's possessive, jealousy

"𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑔𝑖𝑟𝑙𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑔𝑜 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑚𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑑𝑠ℎ𝑒𝑒𝑡𝑠" - 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑜 𝑖𝑡 𝑏𝑦 𝑐ℎ𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑡𝑙𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑐

･･ꕀ𖧷

He was watching you. Sitting across the room, untouched glass of whiskey nearly cracking under his unforgiving grip. 

He watched as you laughed at another man’s joke, soft fingers wrapped around his arm as you leaned closer to him. 

He tried ignoring it, he really did, even pulled out his phone to scroll through instagram but his thumb was frozen in place while his eyes undressed you. You looked too good to look away from, smiling from ear to ear, skirt too short, too perfect, too fuckable, too his. 

But you weren’t his. You didn’t belong to sae did you? You guys were just fucking because it was convenient. So whatever you did with other guys was none of his concern, whether you smiled at them or even let them fuck you like he does. 

Who was he kidding? The second you left for the washroom, sae stood up, slipping past the drunken bodies and following close behind. 

He didn’t corner you or pin you against the wall like a jealous bf. That wasn’t him. He wasn’t that guy.

He just leaned back on the wall beside the bathroom, catching you off guard when you saw him. 

“You have fun flirting with him” 

You quirked a brow, shooting a quick grin before covering it. “Jealous?” 

“Me? Jealous? You’re hilarious, yn.” he said with a straight face. His arms crossed over his chest, you stepped closer, invading his privacy. 

“What, sae? Say it” you said through bared teeth, barely inches away, pushing yourself into him just enough to drive him wild. 

He sighed, running a hand through his hair before straightening his back. 

“We’re not dating, you can see whoever you want” 

“Fucking perfect, no problems then, right?” you smiled sweetly, tilting your head as his eyes narrowed on you. You scoffed, pushing the bathroom door open to step inside. You didn’t close it behind you because you knew sae also dared to enter behind you. He shut the door behind him, your stomach churning at the lock's soft click. 

His body was screaming at him to take you and make you say you belonged to him but he held back. But for how long? You turned to face him, hand on his chest to push him back just enough for his back to touch the door. 

“Say, if you aren’t jealous, why did you look like you were about to kill a fucker” he knew you were right. No matter how hard he tried, it wouldn’t diminish the rage that flowed through his veins when he saw you with someone else. The way his fists were clenching, the nerve in the corner of his forehead nearly bursting. He didn’t reply, instead, he let his actions speak. 

Flipping the two of you so you were the one against the door, he gripped your jaw like he had issues with it and slammed his lips down onto yours. Not sparing you a second to breathe. It wasn’t soft or delicate. He was devouring you, teeth, tongue, hand down your spine. You arched into him, tugging at his shirt for more. It wasn’t enough. You gasped at the metallic taste in your mouth. He bit down on your lip so hard it started bleeding. 

“Fuck” he groaned, licking it clean. He was barely holding on. Barely controlling himself. His elbow planted on the door beside your face. Leaned in just enough to whisper against your red lips. 

“You like testing me?” his voice a hushed growl. 

You licked his lips, “i like reminding you i’m not yours” his jaw clenched, grabbing a handful of your thighs to lift them up. Reaching under your skirt to pull off your panties. 

“Do you always ruin these or is it for me” he looked down at your damp panties, dropping them onto the dirty bathroom floor. “And.. are you sure you’re not mine?” he whispered, unbuckling his pants, pulling out his angry cock from his boxers. Adjusting your leg around his waist. “It’s just sex, sae. That’s what you said, right” he let out a sharp breath before thrusting the full length inside in one long thrust. You cried out but it quickly died down when sae slapped a hand over your mouth. 

“Yeah go ahead and announce to the whole neighbourhood you’re getting fucked” 

He groaned as you tightened around him, arms around his neck to maintain balance and to scar his back with your nail marks. 

“Tell me it’s just sex, now” his voice was mean, rough, as he slowly moved his hips. 

“Sae-”

“Tell me other men can make you scream like i do, fucking tell me, yn” his cock had your mind hazy, you couldn’t think straight as you mumbled his name between delicious moans. 

“Tell me, fuck, tell me other men can touch you like this” the sound of skin slapping echoed in the bathroom, maybe even the people outside could hear. You were praying the music was louder outside or perhaps everyone was too knocked up to hear. Your body visibly recoiled with each of his brutal thrusts, ruining your face, hair and makeup. His lips trailed down your neck, sucking red spots on very obvious spots. He wasn’t jealous, he said. 

His cock was aching, but he couldn’t stop, couldn’t finish now when your pussy started throbbing and sucking him in. 

Not that you had much strength in you but you stared at him, a weak cocky grin on your lips. 

“You’re the one who said feelings ruin things, remember?”

“Oh yeah?” he bit down on your collarbones, “Then why do I feel like I’m about to lose my fucking mind when I picture someone else between your legs?”

His cock went deeper, kissing your sweet spot making your toes curl and dig your nails in his back. He wasn’t just fucking you. He was claiming you. You were quiet, letting him ruin you with a scowl on his face. 

“Tell me to fuck off and i’ll leave, i’ll stop and won’t look back” he voice was softer, barely. Your eyes wide and for the first time, sae might’ve actually left you speechless. He chuckled but nothing was funny. He kissed you like you belonged to him. He fucked you like he loved you but he could never bring himself to say it. So he stayed silent 

Each thrust was another silent scream.

Each groan, a word he couldn’t bring himself to say.

So when you came undone around him, sobbing his name, clutching his shirt like it meant something—

He broke.

Entirely.

He buried his face in your neck, breathing you in, chasing after his own release. 

“Don’t go home with him.. If you do, i might seriously end up killing him” he groaned, slipping out at the right time and cumming all over your sloppy cunt. You were silent. 

“Just.. stay” he was being vulnerable, but he couldn’t care less. You clung onto him like your life depended on it. Maybe it did. 

Maybe it did depend on him, like how his life was ruined by a girl he said he didn’t love. 

Perm.Taglist: @samm1e13 @demiitria @syleepy @chaoslibra @bontenxo @pinkymangacaps @riinniies @samthesimp1 @sapphireluv @s4turnx1 @nevvynev @cookiesandcreammy @rinniebinniebay @ravenbc @kamelika @luvsymai @werfiedeii @mikemsmm @cyberheartrebel @arwawawa2 @yanderebluelockfan

A/n: this lwk ahh but i tried, i was rlly sleepy, hope u like it </3. ignore the mistakes, i didn't edit yet. and thanku sm, i'm glad u like my work

ꨄ︎Anglbunny | Do not copy, steal or translate my work and pngs. you'll be blocked.

[Navigation] [taglist] [rules before requesting]

[bobcross1010]

TPOT 17 SPOILERS: DECODING FANNY'S BOARD + DEBUNKING/ANALYSIS OF ONE

*All of these were decoded through a Ceaser Cipher and Binary code:

XSFFG: Fanny (Fanno??)

KV UVA ALZA T LX HLENSTYR JZF: Do not test, I am watching you

TJPQZ HPXC OJ GZVMI VWJPO RCT DH CZMZ: You have much to learn about why I'm here

YTKGQE YTO ZIN: Sneaky Snitch

GCCB SBCIUV: Soon Enough

01110011 01101000 01101000 01101000: Shhh

YLJLODQV RFXOXV: Vigilant Oculus

the last code with Vigilant Oculus is SO SOOOSO interesting to me. It points at a warped image of Fanny sitting on Ice Cube: calling the two of them the vigilant oculus (oculi??). Vigilant refers to someone who is watchful, wary, being alert and checking for danger. Oculus is latin for eye: therefore, Vigilant eye.

Basically, One says that the two of them a very watchful eye, but she's not happy about it. Fanny, Ice Cube and Donut all have a strong sense of justice and morals, leading them to be the first ones act against One- Fanny and Ice Cube out in the game, and Donut through actually FIGHTING against One

Also, note how all the players who One contacted that are still ingame/got further are Ice Cube, Fanny, and Donut: in which One offered them their limbs. Neat.

One is actively preventing Fanny from letting anybody else know about her. She warps TB's vision so he sees that distortion instead of what Fanny really wrote. But there's something about it that irks her enough to piss her off.

Look at One's room:

Her couch is broken. Their table is chipped. Chairs and equipment are knocked down, papers are all over the place. Her telescope is broken. And most of all, One herself is clearly agitated. Either this happened as a result of the world almost ending, or One threw a fit and ended up throwing things around in frustration. She wants to get things done quickly, she doesn't want to waste any more time. Instead of light, easy persuasion with that confident and playful tone she uses with her usual deals, she pressures Donut and yells at him, telling him to make it quick. When he doesn't and refuses, even going so far as to kick her away from him, instead of continuing the pressure, she gives up and punishes him- she rips out his legs and lets him roll on.

Afterwards, One claims that she didn't need Donut and it was just extra. But she seems to be convincing herself rather than reminding herself.

From what Six says: "She was meant to be gone!". This means that One was exiled, or sent away somehow. From the start, she'd been enemies with the other Numbers, or at least, did NOT have a good track record with them.

Six also says that he's the only one left. He's the only one living in the Equation Playground. The others either left or are in hiding. Four, X, and Two are on earth, and Three is imprisoned inside Four.

We ALSO know that every Algebralien has a connection to the Playground through a door. Four has it through his EXIT- a pocket world inside of him. Now, One has also showed us what is likely hers- her cozy little room, and her dark meadow with the flowers. Both of them have a door that leads to the playground.

From how this is set up, it makes me believe that all the algebraliens have some sort of pocket world, all with their own door that leads to their home. We also now know that the Subscriber Specials probably take place BEFORE BFB/TPOT, or at least during, somewhat. Or they just. aren't canon. but i want to think they are because it makes me happy

So if theres some vague algebralien timeline its:

xFOHV -> One/Three get exiled and Imprisoned -> Sub Specials Probably -> BFB -> TPOT

i've run out of things to talk abour ehre

i love One :)

[gingiesworld]

Hii, l love your angsty fanfics, it hurt in a good way. Here is an idea for a fluff.

How about a fanfic where wanda and R who've always been a bit awkward around each other get stranded in a cozy cabin during a snowstorm? They start out unsure and bickering, but slowly bond over shared stories, hot chocolate, and board games. By the time the snow clears, they're inseparable—and maybe even in love. Lots of soft moments, warm blankets, and emotional healing.

Hope you have a great day

Girlfriend Huh?

Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader

Warnings: Angst, Fluff

Word Count: 3.4k

AN: Hey guys, it's been a while since I've written a light hearted fic so I am a wee bit rusty. Also a reminder that my asks are open of you have any requests or just want to say hello. I hope you guys enjoy this one!!!

18+ MINORS DNI

Taglist : @mothertoall2 @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic @dopeyouth @karsonromanoff @bimad @reginassweetheart @machyishere @gemz5 @pawiie @duckiekong (If you want to be added to my taglist, please DM me or comment)

Y/N concentrated as they drove through the wooded path, struggling to see as the snow started to fall heavier. Wanda was sat in the passenger seat, watching the unfamiliar surroundings pass before she turned to face them as they drove. 

"Where are we going?" She asked them, her tone cold. 

"Just one of SHIELD's safe houses, we can't make it back in this storm." They told her, a small cabin coming into sight as Y/N slowed down. "Hopefully it will be clear in the morning and we can head home tomorrow." They told her as they turned off the engine. Wanda only huffed as she stepped out of the car, following Y/N as they approached the cabin door, moving to lift up an old gnome, picking up the key before letting Wanda inside first. "SHIELD has these safe houses all over, just in case any agents are stranded on missions." Wanda only hummed as she moved through the cabin, seeing some old books on a small bookcase in a corner, a log fire and an old worn out sofa. 

"So, we have to stay here?" She questioned, raising her brow. 

"It's just until the storm has passed." They told her, reaching into the bag they had brought with them. "I'm just going to update Fury on our situation, he'll get someone out to us in no time." Wanda only nodded before she moved through the cabin, searching through the cupboards, finding them already stocked with tinned foods. "They also like to keep them all stocked. There is also fresh clothes in the closet, they vary from sizes." They directed her towards the bedroom, opening the door for her. "Just in case you want to change." 

"There's only one bed." She told them, watching as they nodded, pursing their lips before they exhaled. 

"I'll take the sofa." They told her, leaving her to do what she needed to do, Wanda had decided to take a warm shower as Y/N cooked up a quick meal for the two of them. Wanda entered the kitchen, freshly showered and a clean set of clothes, moving to step beside Y/N as they stood before the cooker. "I don't exactly know how to cook properly, so be warned." They teased her, their shoulders deflating as she gave them no reaction. Watching as she reached for the spoon out of their hands, tasting the food before she moved towards the spice rack they were provided. "I guess you can cook?" They tried, hoping to make some conversation. 

"Yes." She answered them, keeping her answers short. 

"Okay then, I guess I'll go and shower while you fix this monstrosity." They shuffled nervously before they turned around and left the kitchen. Ever since Wanda had joined the Avengers, she had only really taken to Clint, Vision and Natasha, but she was still alright with the rest of them. But with Y/N, she was close with them, the two used to spend time together, either watching old sitcoms or reading quietly. They had always wondered why she had pushed them away, practically a stranger to them now. 

"It's ready." Wanda told them, taking their attention from the books. Y/N followed her into the kitchen, taking their bowl and thanking her before they sat down at the table with her. They ate in silence, it wasn't comfortable, nor was it uncomfortable. Y/N was extremely cautious, watching as Wanda ate her food, her expression was stoic as she glanced up and caught them. "What?" She asked them, raising her brow. 

"What happened to us?" They asked her, placing their spoon down as they stared into her eyes. "We used to be so close, we weren't exactly best friends but we enjoyed each others company, we had conversations but now, now it's like you don't want to know me." 

"It's not." Wanda chuckled dryly as she shook her head. "Can we not do this right now?" She pleaded as she rose from her seat, taking the bowls and heading towards the sink. 

"Why not, Wanda?" They questioned, following her and leaning against the counter. "I deserve to know what I did wrong? To make you treat me like a stranger." She watched as their shoulders deflated. 

"Please." Wanda whispered shakily, pausing her movements as her hands remained in the dish water. "Can we not do this, not right now." They shook their head, a dry chuckle falling from their lips as they moved away. Wanda watched as they moved further away. 

"Okay." Y/N nodded, turning around and leaving her alone in the kitchen, she watched as they lit the fire before they moved onto the sofa, watching as they lay down, their eyes remaining on the dancing flames as the warmth filled the room. Wanda sighed, finishing her task before she disappeared into the bedroom, laying down on the bed and pulling the covers over her. Glancing out of the window, watching as the snow came down harder, closing her eyes as she listened to the stillness that surrounded her. Although, Y/N's question replayed in her mind, their face imprinted in her memory, the hurt in their eyes as she didn't answer their question. Truthfully, she is afraid to speak aloud of why she pulled away from them, she feared they wouldn't understand. 

The next morning, Wanda woke to the sound of Y/N moving around the living room, muttering as they paced. Wanda stood and watched for a moment as they continued their movements, worry on their face as they mumbled incoherently. 

"What's going on?" Wanda asked, announcing her presence, Y/N soon pausing in their tracks to face her.

"We are snowed in." They told her, gesturing to the already open door. "I have sent out an SOS to Fury, but there's no saying in when they will arrive." 

"But you said we would go home today?" She told them, her voice rising slightly. 

"I know I did Wanda, I didn't expect to be snowed in when I woke up." They told her, their anger rising slightly. "I've done all I can, Fury knows of our situation and he will get us out of here, but until then we will just have to wait." With that, Y/N headed towards the bathroom as Wanda just looked at the pile of snow blocking the exit. She moved to close the door before she headed towards the kitchen, seeing what to have for breakfast. 

The day went on, Y/N had remained at a distance from Wanda, barely acknowledging her as they sat on the sofa, a book in hand. Wanda watched as they read, flicking the pages the more they read. They raised a brow, not tearing their attention from the book in their hands. 

"What?" They asked, their voice flat as they felt Wanda's eyes on them.

"You have barely spoke to me today." She told them, leaning back in her seat as she watched them close the book, placing it in their lap before they turned to face her. 

"Okay, is there a problem with that?" They asked her, raising a brow as they waited for an answer. 

"You're punishing me." She told them, her voice firm as they just chuckled. "Because of last night." 

"No, I'm just respecting your wishes." They told her, their eyes finding hers. "You were the one who pushed me away first, you're the one who won't even give me an explanation as to why either, so I just don't see the point in trying to make conversation with you if you're only going to ignore me or barely acknowledge my existence at all." They got to their feet, Wanda was staring at her hands, hearing as they grabbed a water from the fridge before she rose to her own feet. Y/N watched as she approached them, standing just before them. 

"You have no idea what happened." She whispered, fighting back the tears that threatened to surface.

"Then talk to me. Tell me how it really was, because I have no fucking clue!" They yelled, slamming the bottle down on the counter, Wanda took a deep breath as she gathered her thoughts, her heart hammering in her chest. 

"I couldn't lose you, not like I lost him." She whispered, her breath catching as her tears started to fall. "I have lost everyone who I have ever loved, everyone who meant everything to me, and you." She took a deep breath, Y/N's eyes never leaving hers as she spoke. "You meant everything to me, you made me feel something more than just the grief and the pain. You stopped me from drowning within my own mind and I was starting to fall and I thought that if I pushed you away, I would stop falling, that it would hurt less if anything happened to you, but it didn't." She wiped her eyes as she gazed into theirs. "It didn't stop it, and I am scared." She exhaled shakily as she continued. "I am scared because I think I love you, like I'm in love with you and I am scared to lose you." Y/N reached out for her, wrapping their arms around her as she cried into their chest. 

"I'm sorry, Wanda." They whispered, their hand rubbing her back soothingly. "I didn't know you felt like that." They moved back slightly, cupping her face as they wiped her tears away. "But you're not the only one who is scared." They confessed, looking in her eyes. "What I have been feeling for you, since the moment you snorted at that scene in that Adam Sandler movie you had me watch with you, the way you laughed, the way your eyes sparkled as you smiled, it was then that something had shifted between us."

"I'm sorry." She whispered, resting her forehead against their chest, their fingers softly combing through her hair. Y/N pressed a soft kiss to her head, fingers still combing through her hair. 

"You have nothing to apologise for." They told her, pulling back slightly to look into her tearful eyes. "It's okay, we're okay." They reassured her, pressing a kiss to her forehead, Wanda sighed at the feeling of their lips against her skin. "Maybe, if you'd like we could um try and be something you know, together. Maybe it was a stupid idea, you should just." Wanda cut them off, pressing her finger to their lips, their eyes finding hers. 

"I think we could try and be something more." She smiled, watching as their shoulders relaxed as she moved her hands to cup their face. "Maybe we could, keep it between us for a while. I just, I don't think I'm ready for the team to know about it just yet."

"No, yeah, we can do that." Y/N nodded, swallowing hard as they held her hips, their eyes searching Wanda's as they glanced briefly at her lips. "Can I kiss you?" They asked her, she gave them a smile as she nodded, leaning in herself to meet their lips in a soft and passionate kiss. Both pulled away with wide smiles on their faces, Wanda then reached up and pecked their lips before she pulled them towards the bedroom, pushing them down on the bed as Y/N watched her every move. Wanda wasted no time in latching onto them like a koala bear, Y/N moved to wrap their arms around, pulling her in closer and kissing the top of her head. The two just revelling in each others warmth as they both succumbed to sleep.

As the days passed, Y/N and Wanda were soon heading home, after spending their nights talking and laughing, with some making out, well a lot of it. Natasha was shocked to see Y/N sat on the sofa beside Wanda, the two watching a movie. She raised her brow, observing for a moment before Y/N rose to their feet, heading towards the kitchen and grabbing two waters. 

"What's going on with you and Wanda?" Natasha questioned quietly after she followed behind them. 

"What do you mean?" They asked her, tilting their head in confusion. "We're just watching a movie."

"Exactly." Natasha pointed her finger at them. "You're usually never in the same room as her, I just don't understand the sudden change." 

"We both talked about what happened, why she pushed me away and we decided that we would give our friendship another go." They told her honestly. "I just wanted my friend back, and I have her back, she's right in there waiting for me to continue our movie." Nat only nodded, feeling bad as she remembered how they used to be before. 

"Okay, I'm sorry." She nodded, turning around to head out of the kitchen. "But, just so you know, if it was something more than what you're telling me, I'm happy for you both, you both deserve happiness after all of the bad you've both seen." 

"Thank you." They whispered, nodding as Nat left the kitchen, they then started to make their way back over to Wanda, handing her her bottle of water, she thanked them before she turned to face them. 

"What took you so long?" She asked them, before taking a sip of her water. 

"Nat wanted to know what was going on between us." They answered her, playing with their bottle as their eyes remained glued to their hands. They felt the sofa shift, signalling that Wanda had shifted positions, she leaned her head on her hand as she watched them carefully. 

"And what did you say?" She asked them, her voice calm and steady. 

"That we're just trying our friendship out again, getting back to the way we were before." Their voice broke slightly as they spoke quietly, their eyes still not meeting Wanda's. 

"I'm sorry." She whispered, moving her hand to play with the baby hairs on the back of their neck. "We can tell them maybe? If you want to."

"Do you want to? Are you ready for that?" They asked her, their eyes finally meeting hers, searching for any sign of doubt or regret in her eyes. 

"I am." She gave them a soft smile, moving her hand to caress their cheek. "I am ready for them all to know that I'm your girlfriend." She told them confidently. Y/N raised a brow, a smirk growing. 

"Girlfriend huh?" They teased, earning a groan and a slap on the chest from Wanda. 

"Well, you never really asked me." She countered, challenging them. "We've been on dates and you have yet to ask the question, so yes, I am taking matters into my own hands and claiming you as mine, just as I am yours." She told them sternly, Y/N soon having a goofy smile on their face. 

"Girlfriend." They whispered to themselves, Wanda watched as their smile widened as they gazed intensely into her eyes. "I would be honoured to call you my girlfriend Wanda Maximoff." They caressed her cheek, leaning in to kiss her lips tenderly. 

"Girlfriend huh?" Tony spoke as he leaned against the wall, Wanda buried her head in Y/N's neck as they turned to face her.

"Is it so hard to have some privacy around here?" Y/N questioned, raising their brow as Tony stepped closer to them. 

"Well, this is a communal area, you want privacy, you have your bedrooms." He clapped his hand together sarcastically. "And they have doors that lock." He gasped, feigning excitement. "But on a more serious note in regards to this." He pointed between the two of them. "The bedrooms also have a soundproof option, especially for the more R rated nights or dates. I don't want to be reminded that I currently don't have a sex life because I am a raging idiot." He sighed before smiling at them both. "But I'm happy for you guys. Happy Humping!" He cheered as he left the living area. Wanda lifted her head out of their neck, smiling up at them as they turned the attention back to her. 

"It's good to know that the rooms are soundproof." Wanda smirked, Y/N coughed loudly, choking on air as Wanda just rubbed their back soothingly, her smirk staying in place as they calmed down. "I can kick your ass on Mario Kart." She squealed, jumping off of the sofa and heading straight to their room, Y/N right on her heels as they passed Nat on their way. Tony chuckled to himself after he had an updated on the system, the soundproof being turned on in Y/N's room. 

"What's so funny?" She questioned, Tony just shook his head as he shown her the screen. "Why would they want to soundproof their room? What on earth could they be doing? They were just watching some movie with Wanda." Her eyes widened, Tony nodded as he took a sip of his coffee. "Nooo! They lied to me!" 

"What do you mean?" He asked her. 

"I asked Y/N earlier if there was something going on and they said no." She told him, Tony just chuckled. "I'm gonna." She started to leave the kitchen as Tony called her name. 

"Are you sure you want to that? Right now?" He asked her, raising his brow. "There would be things going on in there that shouldn't see the light of day." He finished his coffee, rinsing the cup out before placing it on the side. "Besides, we can just ask them in the morning, they have some tests to run on their gear and I'm letting them use my lab." 

"I'll be there." She told him, a smirk on her face as she turned away, retreating to her own room. Soon enough, morning came around and as expected, Nat was already in the lab with Tony, waiting for Y/N to enter. 

"Morning." They grumbled, rubbing their eyes as they struggled to hold back a yawn. 

"Someone had a fun night." Nat teased, a smirk on her face as Y/N soon stopped in their tracks, their eyes bouncing between the both of them.

"I did actually." They confirmed, heading towards the spare desk. 

"Yeah you did." Tony spoke excitedly. "Our Y/N/N is finally growing up." He turned to Nat, who matched his smile. "I never thought I would ever see the day." Y/N turned around to face the two of them.

"What are you even going on about?" They asked him, a hint confusion in their voice. "I am grown up, I have been grown up." 

"But last night you were even more grown up." He raised his brow, Nat stifled a laugh at him. "Isn't that why you soundproofed your room last night?" He questioned. 

"NO!" They raised their voice slightly. "We weren't, we haven't done, I don't think we're." They took a deep breath, closing their eyes as they regained their composure. "We were playing Mario Kart, you know how loud Wanda can be." Nat snorted as Tony pursed his lips, trying to hold his own laugh back. "Not like that! We are not at that stage, it's too early for you know." They waved their hands nervously. "Well, anyways we were playing Mario Kart and you know how she is whenever she plays that game, she is both a sore winner and a sore loser." 

"That is true." Tony agreed with them. "I had to resort to wearing my armour whenever I play that game with her." 

"Exactly!" Y/N spoke up, clapping their hands. "You know, as nice as this has not been, I have some work to get done." 

"Okay, well I will leave you both to it." Nat said as she stepped beside Y/N, resting her hand on their shoulder. "I know that you both will be the best part of the other, just don't ever take her for granted." With that, Nat left the lab as Y/N put their favourite playlist on, their classic rock playlist. They sang along to the songs, Tony joining in just as enthusiastically as they both moved around the lab continuing their work. 

[beenbaanbuun]

I saw this pic of Twitter and immediately thought of Morticia Hwa and Gomez Joong 😭😭😭

OH THIS IS… HOLY MOLY

(this is not proof read and is very short)

——————————————————————————

the sitting room is quiet, a heavy haze resting over the four members of the household as they recover from the ungodly amount of food that san had prepared for dinner. in the butler’s defence, there were meant to be more of you, but a disaster at the sanctuary meant mingi couldn’t come, and yunho had gotten caught up in some artistic daze so deep that he’d been unable to draw himself away from his canvas, let alone leave his house. a meal for six became a meal for four, and not a crumb was left to spare.

“we should fire him,” hongjoong groans as he allows his body to become slack against his husband’s. it’s hardly like him to lounge so casually, and yet you find yourself unable to judge from your position, lay on the back of your favourite bear rug. it’s music to your ears when seonghwa lets out a quiet chuckle at the sudden appearance of a torso on his lap, and you give them both a lazy smile.

“on what grounds?” seonghwa purrs with so much sickly sweet affection in his tone that you’re sure his teeth must be rotting, “we can hardly fire the best butler we’ve ever had on the basis that his cooking is too good.” lithe fingers come to rest atop hongjoong’s head, sweeping through his curls to separate them. you watch as his eyes flutter closed under the touch, too full of food and love to resist the sweet call of total relaxation for much longer.

“i suppose no one else would be able to put up with our darling dove as well as san does.” you throw a mumbled complaint in hongjoong’s direction at that. unsurprisingly, it falls upon deaf ears. “anyone else would be running for the hills the moment she decides it’s time for her week long baking phase.”

visions of flour clouds and a red faces butler fill your mind, and you can’t help but grin. not one decent cake had come from your few attempts, but the fond memories are enough to make up for it. after that first messy attempt, which saw san standing over you as you meticulously wiped down his kitchen, you had to keep your baking a secret. san had decided rather swiftly that he’d rather suffer through your complaining than see you try to whip up a cake batter again, but he didn’t live in the kitchen, and there were plenty of times you had the place to yourself.

you have no doubt that he knew, though. after all, ingredients don’t just vanish into thin air, and the smell of burnt food is one that tends to linger. it’s been months since your short-term hobby came to a head though, and he’s never once brought it up.

yeosang’s theory is that he doesn’t want to stir up any further interest in you. as far as you’re concerned, he’s just being his usual, polite self. after all, mentioning a ladies failures is quite high up on the list of faux pas’ that you’ve created in your head.

“you make it seem worse than it was,” you complain from the floor, face squished rather unceremoniously against jongho’s back, your words muffled by his fur. the rug itself is warm with the spirit that runs through it like blood, and it lulls you into a sleepy state of which there is no escape. not that you necessarily want to escape it; perhaps if you fall asleep down here, seonghwa might carry you to bed instead of you having to walk it…

the chorus of laughter from the two men is enough to keep you awake for now, though.

“perhaps we’re remembering it wrong, but i seem to recall a rather continuous stream of inedible goods coming from that kitchen,” hongjoong says, “and whilst i adore you, dove, no amount of love could ever make me want to repeat that experience.”

“yeosang liked them!” it’s a bare faced lie, but with the werewolf having already taken to his bed, you have no one to dispute your claim. a perfect crime, if it weren’t for the fact that you’re such a bad liar.

“if we say we believe you will you promise never to set foot in there again?” seonghwa asks with a lilt of laughter laced through his words. it’s such a pretty sound, and you can’t help but find yourself nodding along to his offer. he smiles down at you, honest and kind as though you hold the world in your hands. “good girl.”

[i-messed-up-big-time]

Someone Precious I

Caleb x Non MC Reader

a/n: guys pls dkm ive never been to a party so when you read that pls give me the benefit of the doubt 😭, also i don't really want to go into too much detail about any of the explicit scenes that are implied, but there may be a possibility of one more detailed in the other parts! i'm finally free from uni guys so i have more time to do some writing! i finally got around to finishing this (i started right before my finals) hopefully you guys like this first part!

Divider creds @/cafekitsune

tags: angst, hurt/comfort, reader is female and is AFAB, mentions of pregnancy, implied intimate relations (not going into detail), pet names used, mentions of drinking/getting drunk (pls drink responsibly), reader throws up, idk what other tags to add!

word count: 2.4k

masterlist

series masterlist

taglist: @aneertawrites @eurydiceknowshesloved @angelichiaro @nommingonfood @ynovaes

You had known them for years, albeit you joined the infamous duo a little later than when they had met each other, but you all were as thick as theives.

Countless days and nights spent together. More often than not if one of you guys were somewhere, the other two were not far behind.

At first you didn't notice that the way you felt about Caleb was something more than just a friend, how could you? You were just a naive child at the time.

That all changed when Caleb went to high school. You started noticing certain things about him, the way his eyes twinkled when he smiled, how good he looked when he was playing basketball.

You soon were able to put a name to those thoughts and feelings, love. It was like you were exposed to whole new world, everything he did caught your attention and pulled you deeper into that black hole called love.

If only you knew how much pain and turmoil this man would bring to your life.

●・○・●・○・●・

It was near the end of your final year in university when it all happened.

You being the ever delusional girl you were always thought that the fleeting touches and eye contact between you and Caleb were something special, something unique to just the two of you.

How could you ever know that he only ever had one person in his sights, one that wasn't you.

You and MC were getting ready to go to a party, it was meant to be the last one of the year and before graduation.

MC had to beg you to come with her this one last time.

"C'mon it'll be so much fun! It'll be our last party before we graduate! Please?"

You couldn't really say no to her when she pulled out the puppy dog eyes.

Outwardly, it looked like you were reluctant, but on the inside you were kind of happy to go. Part of it was because you heard from the grapevine that Caleb might be there since some of his friends were going.

Which leads you to your current dilemma, what outfit to wear. You opted to wear a dark blue dress that reached up to your mid thigh. It was a new dress that had been sitting in the back of your closet for some time, now it finally had the chance to see the light of day.

"Hurry up or we're gonna be late!"

You heard MC yell for you.

"I'm coming!"

You responded, hopping around on one foot trying to strap your shoe onto your foot.

Once you successfully had it strapped to your foot, you quickly made your way out the door with MC.

●・○・●・○・●・

The party was in full swing by the time you guys made it there.

You made a beeline for the drinks, wanting to get some water in your system before anything else.

You spotted MC dancing with this one guy she's been talking to recently. He was a sweet guy who was in the same program as her, infamous for being asleep more often than awake. Seeing him at a party was kind of a surprise, but he probably came here because MC said she would be there.

'Looks like I'm gonna be alone tonight.'

You let out a heavy sigh with that thought. Yeah you heard some rumours that Caleb was gonna be there, but you had yet to spot him.

As if the gods above heard your thoughts, he entered your line of vision.

It's like every time you see him he just looks better than before. He was with his friend Gideon as they chatted up the guys who were hosting this party.

It wasn't long before he made spotted you. He made his way over to you with a bright smile.

"Shouldn't you be out there on the dance floor instead of brooding next to the drinks table?"

He reaches out to ruffle your hair, which not only makes you pout but also blush at the contact.

"Hey stop messing up my hair!"

You exclaim as you pull out your phone to start fixing it, Caleb can only laugh as he reaches out again but this time to help you.

You're so glad the lights in here are dim, cause your face was as red as a tomato.

"There, better?"

You gave yourself a once over in the camera and nodded in agreement, the words not coming out.

You turned to Caleb to ask him if he wanted to dance but the words died in your throat before you could even try.

There he stood with his gaze zeroed in on something, you followed it and noticed he had his sights set on MC and Xavier. If it was anyone else they wouldn't have noticed the way his brows furrowed, but because it was you, you noticed.

You always did, you just chose to ignore it because you knew that MC didn't feel anything for him aside from a love that you feel for family.

Unbeknownst to you, she was well aware of the crush you had on Caleb, silently supporting you from the sidelines. She knew you didn't want to make things awkward by admitting it out loud, but sometimes she wishes you would tell her so she could openly support you.

●・○・●・○・●・

A couple of hours had passed and you were buzzed.

You and MC were on the dance floor having some fun, that's when you felt those hands on your hips. Turning around you saw it was Caleb, your heart was running a mile minute.

You looked over your shoulder to look for MC but she was nowhere in sight, you took this as your sign to enjoy the moment.

Your poor naive heart thought this was the moment that maybe Caleb actually would look at just you.

Little did you know that this moment would lead to a series of events that would forever change your life.

●・○・●・○・●・

Your body felt sore, and suspiciously cold. Opening your eyes you were greeted with the familiar sheets of your bed, the only thing was that you were in it bare.

Sitting up you felt the ache increase tenfold, both in your head and in your back.

You sifted through your memories to try and understand what happened when it came crashing into you all at once.

'I slept with Caleb.'

You pushed yourself of the bed only to fall to your knees, you felt weak and it was definitely due to your activities from last night.

You were all giddy inside thinking maybe you might be able to take a step in a different direction with Caleb.

That's when you noticed it, the bright sticky note on your bedside table,

I'm sorry, it was a mistake.

It was like fate was laughing in your face, your world came crashing down on you.

You weren't stupid, you know what he meant. You had just a little bit of hope, but even that proved futile.

"Am I not good enough?"

You let the tears slip, steady and silent streams. But you didn't let yourself cry for too long, you needed to get up and move on.

Easier said than done.

You pushed yourself to go clean up and change your sheets, wanting nothing more than to occupy your mind with other things, and to an extent it worked.

Until you were back in bed, that's when you started crying again. Only this time, you were sobbing loudly and it was loud enough to alert your roommate of your distress.

MC came barging in, quickly reaching your side to comfort you.

A very small part of you was jealous of her, and you hated that. She was your best friend, someone who always was there for you and wanted the best for you.

Knowing that she had the one thing you so desperately wanted hurt, but not enough to let it come between your friendship. You valued her presence too much in your life, you just hoped she would still feel the same about you with what you were about to tell her.

●・○・●・○・●・

MC had joined you under the covers after you finished laying your heart bare in front of her, she never once cut you off, said anything or made any reaction aside from a look of understanding and hurt.

She was in no way hurt by your words but rather hurt at the situation, she had totally believed that Caleb was into you, dare she say obsessed with you. She saw the looks and the lingering touches that were exchanged between you two.

She thought it would all work out with time, who knew Caleb would screw it all up. Not just that, but you were under the impression that he was in love with her.

She didn't want to downplay your feelings and thoughts, as a woman she understood. She could only be there for you and show you just how wrong you were, she was determined.

You had fallen asleep a little while ago. You were utterly heartbroken and had been non stop crying as you talked, MC's heart went out to you.

You were her sister, her twin, blood relations or not, she valued you more than anything in the world. She never felt like she was only child, you and Caleb were the siblings she always wanted, she'd be damned if she let Caleb ruin that for you guys.

Little did both of them know, they wouldn't hear from Caleb for almost a year and a half.

●・○・●・○・●・

A month later

It was graduation day.

You and MC have been closer than ever since that day. Caleb had went MIA, not replying to either of you or returning your calls.

You would be lying if you said you still weren't upset about that day and the lack of communication.

'I thought we were thick as thieves but clearly not.'

You were finally graduating, the day you worked so hard for that you made it as Valedictorian of your year.

You were just putting on the final touches of your look when MC came barrelling into your room with her hands behind her back.

She gave you a sly smile before revealing what she had behind her back, a small gift bag.

You laughed as you went to your closet and pulled out a gift bag as well.

You guys were on the same wavelength it seemed.

MC was in shock, you had gotten her that necklace that she had been eyeing a few months back, she even noticed the engraving on it.

My forever sister in every universe

If it wasn't for MC being fully ready to go she would have burst into tears right then and there. She pulled you in for a hug and whispered words of thank you.

She put it on right away, it was the perfect gift for a day like today.

MC handed you the bag she brought. It was also a necklace with an engraving on it. You guys definitely were twin flames, her gift having a similar engraving as yours.

Across galaxies, you're still my sister

Putting on the necklace you pulled MC in for another hug, your heart felt full despite the absence of one particular person, but in that moment nothing mattered but the bond between you and MC.

●・○・●・○・●・

It was nerve wracking giving a speech in front of all those people, but at the same time you had this adrenaline rush pumping through your veins.

The graduation ceremony ended with hats in the air and confetti everywhere.

This marked the end of a chapter and the beginning of a new one.

Only, it would be a chapter filled with experiences you never would have imagined.

●・○・●・○・●・

A week later

You woke up feeling uncomfortable, your throat burned and your stomach felt uneasy. Not even a second after opening your eyes you felt last night's dinner making an appearance the same way it went in.

You bolted to the bathroom and emptied the contents of your stomach into the toilet.

You probably sounded like you were dying because MC soon came bursting into your room.

She held your hair back and rubbed soothing circles on your back as you heaved, tears clouding your vision.

If there was one kind of pain you hated the most it was the pain that came with throwing up. It was agonizing, and your throat burned.

Once you were done, you moved to rinse your mouth while MC left to go get you a drink with electrolytes.

"Are you okay? I know I'm not the best at cooking but I didn't think dinner would be that bad."

MC joked as she handed you a bottle of coconut water. You let out a small chuckle before taking a sip.

"It's weird, I don't think it was your cooking. I've been feeling super nauseous lately and I can't even stand the smell of some foods."

You tell her, she smacks your arm jokingly for not denying her cooking skills, or the lack of them.

"Wait, what if you're pregnant?"

MC said, you laughed her off.

"No way, I haven't even slept..."

The words died in your throat, flashbacks from that night came crashing into your headspace. You never forgot that night, but you definitely did not remember whether you guys had used protection or not.

MC offered to stop by the pharmacy to grab you a couple of pregnancy test, saying it didn't hurt to at least try.

While you waited for her you looked through your calendar, trying to remember when you had your last period.

'Shit. I'm late.'

You paced around the room nervously fidgeting with your fingers, your thoughts were a mess.

MC came back in record breaking time with a couple of bags, one filled with different brands of tests and the other had some of your favourite snacks.

●・○・●・○・●・

You followed the directions and sat on the edge of the tub with MC, waiting for the results.

You were bouncing your knee, the nervousness kicking in ten fold. MC placed a hand on your leg in an effort to reassure you, her eyes saying that she would support you no matter what.

MC checked the results first, you didn't think you could handle looking at it.

She turned around and showed you one of the tests, and that's when you saw it.

Two red lines.

You were pregnant.

[nakylvr]

I have a vision… bsf fboy Dani stopping seeing other girls when she realizes she’s in love with reader and then trying to court them…

-🎸anon

omg yes 🙂‍↕️ being so confused when dani stops talking about all the girls she hooks up with and sees but you don't think on it too hard cause you assume she finally found someone to ground her, not realizing that someone is you. but then she starts doing things differently. she gets you coffee and brings it to you before you can even think of saying you need one, she's holding your bag for you while walking across the campus not saying a word, she's staring at you longer, her hands lingering on you more than they should. it's odd at first. you don't know where it's coming from or why she's doing it. she knows you like her as a friend, but she's utterly in love with you, and she's trying so hard to get you to see that. but it's hard with her reputation and being her best friend. it isn't until one night when you're both at a party that she confesses her feelings to you. it just comes out messy.

your not much of a drinker, you never were. while dani is the one who calls you to pick her up cause she's so drunk. well, your friends managed to convince you to have a few drinks. by halfway through the night you honestly forgot where you were, the music loud in your ears and people's bodies mending together. at some point some random guy is talking to you, trying to leave with you for obvious ulterior motives when dani spots it from the corner of her eye. she doesn't think, she just acts — storming towards the boy and punching him in the face before grabbing your hand and taking you outside to her car. being more sober than you for once, she checks to make sure you're okay as you stand there silently just nodding along to what she says. when you finally muster out the few words "why do you care about me so much?" she knows if she doesn't say it now then she'll never be able to. she just quietly responds "because i love you." and the two of you stare at each other for a while. you then ask her what she means and she goes "i love you, and i don't want to be with anyone but you." and she thinks she's fucked up when your already glossy eyes get more watery until you wrap your arms around her neck and kiss her.

dani stays with you the whole night. holding your hair when you throw up, bringing you water and medicine, laying down next to you. she listens to whatever you tell her to do, and doesn't argue. if you want her to go out and get you something to eat since you threw everything up, she's immediately slipping her shoes on and going. if you want her to just cuddle you until you fall asleep in her arms, she's doing it. it surprises her when you remember everything the next morning, waking her up by pressing gentle kisses on her face. you just smile when she opens her eyes, first apologizing for what happened before saying how you feel the same. her face instantly lights up as she questions if you're serious, and when you just nod she's flipping you over and immediately kissing you all over your face, neck, collarbones. all while muttering how much she loves you.

[societyfolklore]

Not Until You Ask Right

Title: Not Until You Ask Right Pairing: Steve Rogers x Female Reader

Summary: Steve wrecks you slowly and thoroughly. But when you want more of him, he’s going to make you ask for it. But then he’ll make sure you take every inch.

Word Count: 2.2K

Warnings:  / Explicit Content /18+, Minors DNI, Established relationship, Smut, Overstimulation, Fingering, Oral (f receiving), Praise Kink, Soft Dom!Steve , Slight Power Play, Controlled Pacing, Delayed Gratification, Begging, Use of Pet Names).

A/N: my entry for  @avengers-assemble-bingo  for April Kinky Bingo Square: C2- ‘Do You Want More?’ Card Number: KB003

You didn’t know how long he’d been down there.

Time had stopped mattering around the third orgasm. Maybe the fourth. Maybe more. Everything blurred together under the weight of Steve’s mouth, his steady rhythm, the maddening patience in his hands, the way he took you apart like he had all the time in the world and nothing else he’d rather be doing.

He had you spread wide on the bed, your back arched and thighs draped over his shoulders, his strong arms looped beneath them to hold you still. Every twitch, every attempt to pull away when the pleasure got too sharp, too overwhelming. But he only held you tighter. Anchored you to the bed like you were his to keep.

Your fingers had long since lost their grip on the sheets. Now they tangled uselessly in the pillows above your head, clenching each time his tongue flicked against your clit with that same lazy precision that drove you insane.

“Steve,” you sobbed, voice wrecked, your hips lifting helplessly off the mattress.

He didn’t respond. Just groaned against you, the sound vibrating through your core, his tongue sliding lower to tease your entrance before circling back up. Then came his fingers- two thick digits pushing in with ease, curling just right, dragging across that spot that had you seeing stars.

Your legs kicked weakly, thighs trembling, breath catching in your throat as another orgasm loomed.

“You’re doing so good,” he murmured against your heat, voice thick with pride. “Gonna give me another, baby?”

You couldn’t answer. Not with words. You just whimpered, your entire body clenching down around his fingers, another wave of heat building impossibly fast.

And when it hit. God - it hit hard. Your vision blurred. Your hips bucked. You cried out his name, nails clawing at the sheets as your body convulsed.

But he didn’t stop.

Even as you squirmed, overstimulated and gasping, Steve kept his rhythm. Kept his fingers curling and twisting, kept his mouth latched around your clit like he was starved for you. He pulled another one from you before you could even catch your breath, and then another—each crest sharper, shorter, more unbearable than the last.

Your skin felt too tight. Your chest heaved. Every nerve in your body was alight with sensation, and still, it wasn’t enough.

You needed him.

You needed more.

“Stevie, please,” you begged, tears welling up, voice breaking apart. “I can’t… I need you.”

That was what finally made him pause. Slowly, achingly, he pulled back from between your thighs, his chin wet, lips slick and swollen, blue eyes blown wide with heat as they locked on yours.

“You need me, huh?” he asked, voice warm and full of that indulgent teasing you both loved and hated.

You nodded frantically, breath catching as he pressed one last kiss to your inner thigh, lips lingering just long enough to make your breath hitch again. Then he moved slow and deliberate his broad frame sliding up the length of your body, leaving a trail of heat in his wake. You felt every inch of him: the ripple of muscle, the way his chest brushed over your peaked nipples, the solid weight of him pressing you into the mattress like gravity itself had chosen sides.

His body blanketed yours, warm and heavy and impossibly steady. One large hand braced beside your head, the other coming up to cradle your cheek with reverence. His thumb ghosted along the corner of your mouth, smearing away the remnants of your tears, and then he leaned in.

The kiss was slow, claiming. Deep enough to make your toes curl, sweet enough to make your heart flutter. You could taste yourself on his tongue, the proof of how thoroughly he'd devoured you and he didn’t let you shy away from it. He groaned low in his throat, like you were the most decadent thing he'd ever tasted, and kissed you again, deeper this time, tongue sweeping past your lips in a way that made your hips instinctively rise toward his.

He smiled against your mouth, smug and fond all at once, before murmuring, "I'd stay down there all night if you'd let me. Taste you until you can't remember your name. You make the prettiest sounds when you fall apart for me." He dragged his lips along your jaw, voice dipping even lower. "But that's not what you want, is it, baby? You want something else, don't you?"

Then, with maddening slowness, he reached between your bodies and wrapped one strong hand around his thick cock, guiding the swollen head to your entrance. He slid it through your folds first, coating himself in your slick, teasing your clit with the head until you whimpered and your hips bucked up instinctively, trying to rock forward and catch the angle just right, desperate to line him up and take more. But Rogers just chuckled softly above you, amused by your neediness. against him.

You knew that look in his eyes. All that lazy confidence, the way he watched your every reaction like he was memorizing it for later. He loved the way you squirmed. Loved how needy you got under the weight of his touch. And god help you, you loved it too. You wanted more than just his tongue tonight. You were greedy. You wanted all of him. The stretch of him, the weight of him, the sweet ache of being filled so completely there was no room left for anything but him. You needed him to ruin you in the best way. To take you apart piece by piece until you were crying his name and begging for more.

Finally, he began to press in.

You cried out at the stretch, the delicious, perfect pressure that made your spine arch off the mattress. The blunt head breached your entrance, forcing your walls to give way inch by thick inch, the burn just enough to make your toes curl.

But he stopped halfway.

Not deep enough. Not nearly enough to satisfy the raw ache pulsing inside you.

Just enough to make you feel it. The blunt fullness teasing your inner walls, leaving you clenching desperately around the intrusion, your body begging for more while he held it just out of reach.

You tried to move, to take him deeper, but Steve's hands were already on your hips, holding you down with an unshakable grip. His strength radiated through his palms, a silent command: stay still. You could feel the heat from his skin searing into yours, the flex of his fingers like iron restraints, keeping you exactly where he wanted you, helpless beneath him.

"Ah-ah," he murmured, voice low, calm, completely in control. "You want all of me?"

You nodded, breathless, throat tightening as the ache inside you deepened.

"Then act like it."

His hips moved in a shallow roll, just the thick head dragging against your walls, grazing your most sensitive spot but never fully pressing into it as he pulled back. The tease sent sparks through your core, made your thighs quake, made the muscles in your abdomen flutter with need. Every movement felt like a cruel kind of worship- painful in its restraint, maddening in its precision.

You let out a whimper, hips twitching, trying to follow him, to steal more, but Steve didn’t let you. Not yet. Eyes fluttering shut, you tried to hide from the intensity, but there was no hiding from it. Your cheeks burned with embarrassed frustration at how easily he reduced you to this needy, trembling, undone by just a fraction of him. Your pride clashed with your craving, and craving won.

"Eyes on me, baby."

Your gaze snapped to his, tears slipping down your temples as you tried to hold it together. The weight of his stare pinned you as thoroughly as his hands. It wasn't enough to give you the release your overstimulated body was starting to crave again.

"You can be a big girl with that mouth, but now you can’t use it?" he teased, voice smooth and calm, like he wasn’t driving you out of your mind. "That mouth that’s always got something smart to say? It’s gone quiet on me now."

His hips kept that slow, maddening pace, shallow thrusts that brushed against your walls and made your core throb, your body reacting to every teasing glide like it was a promise of more. You could feel yourself building again, heat coiling low in your belly despite the lack of depth, the lack of friction. It was infuriating how quickly he had your body climbing, how your nerves lit up from so little. Each subtle movement sent you spiraling further, your body tightening, ready to snap from a tension he hadn’t even fully given you yet.

It was like being edged with his whole body, like he knew just how to make you unravel one breath at a time, just how much to give- and withhold- to keep you trembling right at the edge of bliss.

"Do you want more?"

You nodded again, frantic now, but he only shook his head with a soft cluck of his tongue.

"Uh-uh. You know better than that. Use your words. Look at me and say it."

Your lip trembled. Your voice came out soft, cracked and raw.

"Please, Steve. I want more. I want all of you."

His eyes burned into yours, pride and hunger and something deeper simmering behind the blue. His jaw clenched like he was holding back a growl, and he leaned down, brushing his lips over your cheek before whispering low in your ear, "That’s my girl."

Then he thrust all the way in.

You gasped, the sound caught halfway between a sob and a moan, back arching, legs shaking from the overwhelming stretch. The thick weight of him sank deep inside, the intrusion stealing the air from your lungs, knocking thought and reason straight out of your head. Your walls clenched around him, greedy and trembling, finally filled, finally complete.

"Nhg-ah!!" you cried, your voice breaking on his name.

"There she is," he groaned, the sound rough and low in his chest as he thrust again, deep and smooth, grinding his hips into yours until you whimpered. "My good girl. Now take it. Let me feel how deep you can take me."

You broke.

Every nerve in your body fired at once, your spine bowing and your breath catching sharp in your throat. Your thighs locked around his waist like a vice, trying to pull him deeper even as the wave of climax crested. The stretch of him filled you so completely it left you shaking, your body barely able to contain the flood of sensation ripping through you.

"Fuck- Steve!"

Your walls fluttered around him, squeezing with wave after wave of release, each one stronger than the last as he kept grinding into you, hips moving in a steady, slow drag that prolonged the high until it felt unbearable.

He held you through it, firm and unyielding, his hands never leaving your body. One cupped your cheek, grounding you as your face twisted in bliss. The other held your hip in place, keeping you locked to him, buried to the hilt.

"God, look at that," he groaned, voice thick and reverent. "You always come so hard for me. It’s so easy, isn’t it? Just a few words, a few rolls of my hips... and you're gone."

You whimpered something that might’ve been his name. Maybe just a sob. You weren’t sure anymore.

Your whole body trembled, each aftershock sending smaller spasms through your core, your limbs going limp beneath him. Tears streaked your temples as the pleasure kept cresting, lingering like it never wanted to leave.

But Steve wasn’t done. Not even close.

His hands slid back to your hips, tightening with purpose as he pulled out halfway and slammed back into you with enough force to knock the air from your lungs. Your nails scraped helpless paths down his back as another pulse of sensation knocked the air from your lungs as your oversensitive body flinched from the renewed pressure.

"Told you," he murmured, voice all honey and heat between gritted teeth as he fucked you through the tremors, "you just had to ask right sweetheart.." 

He didn’t stop moving.

But it wasn’t brutal. It was worse.

He rolled his hips into you, slow and relentless, the kind of pressure that went deep- so deep it made your toes curl- but not fast enough to give you the release your overstimulated body was starting to crave again. Each drag of his cock stroked against every sensitive spot inside you, hitting nerves that had already been pushed past their limit.

You sobbed, hips instinctively lifting in search of something, more friction, more speed, something to tip you back over. Your mind scrambled, too fogged to form words, but one desperate thought rang clear through the haze: Please, don't stop. I can't take it, but I need it.

But Steve just pressed your hips down harder into the mattress, keeping you exactly where he wanted you, utterly pinned and helpless beneath his weight.

"You asked for more," he murmured against your ear, voice like silk over steel. "Now you're gonna take it."

tag:

@yesiamthatwierd @trojanaurora

[darklydeliciousdesires]

A Storm of Stars - Chapter Fourteen.

Thank you kindly to those of you still reading :)

Summary: The Targaryen twin stars. Two sides of the same coin. Aemond and Aemella Targaryen, second children of King Viserys I and his queen, Alicent Hightower, had spent their entire lives almost as one, the lines blurring where one twin ended and the other began. What started as an inseparable sibling bond eventually bloomed into a deep, limitless love.

A day would come, though, when their love story - famed for generations to come - would be tested by the one who sought to tear them apart. When the storm of stars descended, nobody who had wronged them would come away unscathed. 

Words - 3,905

Tag list - In the comments. Please DM to be added.

Warnings - 18+ content throughout. Incest, mentions of child loss through miscarriage. Minors DNI.

Previous Chapters - One Two Three Four Five Six Seven Eight Nine Ten Eleven Twelve Thirteen

Aemond would be the first to admit, should he entertain such talk, that he often much preferred for his wife to be the more commanding in the bed chamber. This was even truer since his succession to the Iron Throne, the heavy weight of the realm and the crown – although not literally placed upon his head as yet – often burdening him heavily.  

Yes, to have someone in control of him for a while made for the perfect tonic of change. The morning of his coronation was no different.  

His vision swam with bursts of colour behind a closed eyelid, hands roaming over her body, opening his eye and viewing the utterly delectable sight of his love, knelt astride his head, the sweet honey of her cunt bathing his tongue as he ate her with fervour. 

They had newly moved into the king’s quarters, Aemella perplexing the handmaidens and various other courtesans alike by refusing the queen’s quarters entirely. Although they were next to the kings, she had no desire to reside in separation. One of the elder female courtesans had been most bemused, the woman within the employ of the castle’s textile needs, called by the queen to discuss new drapes and bed linens. 

“If I may be so bold, my queen, but when you are already with child, why is it that you seek to be with the king nightly within his bed?” 

Ahh, the older generation. To them, lovemaking was a means to procreation and little more. “For the comfort of his embrace. Also, because it is rather impossible to have sex with him when a wall divides us.”  

Her statement had a nearby Gileda quietly laughing behind her hand, the queen’s candour not quite what the lady with the armfuls of fabric had expected to hear, colouring to the shade of beetroot rapidly.  

Indeed, it had been many years since the reigning king and queen had been so genuinely in love with one another that they showed that love quite so regularly. While for Aemond, his respectable demeanour meant that he was never overt in his desires towards his wife, if the noise borne of those desires should happen to carry, however... 

“Ser Crison, I have handmaidens bothering me about not being able to gain entrance to the king’s quarters,” Ser Eddard bustled, not pleased over being disturbed by the trivialities of the servants. “Something about needing to begin seeing to the queen’s hair regime.” 

It was a little past dawn, the usual time in which the queen rose. “Then let us investigate.” The knights moved from their quarters up the many stairs which took them higher within the Red Keep, arriving upon the correct floor where the king’s quarters were located.  

The nearer they walked towards the door, the more apparent it became why the queen was not allowing the handmaiden’s entrance. It was doubtful she’d heard them at all.  

They paused, sharing a look, eyebrows raised. “Her grace is...” Ser Criston began, his words cut short by the noise that filtered from behind the doors. 

“Oh gods, fuck!” 

“Receiving the king, it would appear.” 

Eddard couldn’t bite back his smirk, or help the snort laugh that sounded his nose. “We should not laugh.” 

“No,” he agreed, his eyebrows raising a little. “Most certainly not.” 

“Tis’ not appropriate,” Eddard continued. 

Another bliss-filled wail sounded.  

“Well, at least the king will not be short of heirs, if this is how they intend to go on.” The knights walked away, both giving way to a moment of boyish immaturity as they shared laughter.  

While they headed off, on the other side of the door, Aemella felt like she was drowning in the ecstasy she received from her husband, head thrown back, thighs quivering, her moans unabashed. He gilded the pearl of her sex with wet heat, each lick rolling slowly, smiling against her as her cries filled the air. 

“Does my tongue please you, my queen?”  

He knew well that it did, but Aemella still gave him what he sought. “It never fails to, husband.” Her mouth dropped open; eyes pinching shut tightly. “Yes, right there, ohh!” 

He knew she was close, tongue fluttering in hard, rapid licks upon her bud, his hands tightening at her waist, entranced by the sight of her losing her mind to his mouth. She dug her nails into the lean muscles of his arms, dragging raspberry brandings over his pale skin as her body burned white-hot with every rolling ripple of her release, glimmers tingling up her spine, leaving her breathless.  

“I think I deserve rewarding for that, sweet wife,” he groaned, wiping his mouth, kissing her thigh and branding her with a little bite as she shuffled backwards, straddling his hips. 

“Mmm,” she hummed, leaning forward to kiss him, sinking down onto his cock. “And you shall receive it too, darling love. I know how keenly you enjoy being ridden.” 

Straightening, she rolled her hips, slipping down on as much of him as her tightly stretched cunt could take, feeling him filling her deep. “Oh, gods. I love you so much, Aemond!”  

He couldn’t help but offer a little tease. “You always do, when you’re all full of my cock.” The sudden upward punt of his hips almost unseated her, Aemond grasping her breasts and steadying her, sitting up, pulling her legs around him as he kissed her with filthy heat. “I love you, too, my sweet, beautiful wife.” 

It became torrid and wild with all the ferocity of a hurricane, bodies grinding against each other hard, all that had been softer in edge sharpening, his fingers clenching as he grasped her back, short nails grazing her skin as he bit her nipple.  

Groaning out the heat of his arousal, his teeth released the soft flesh, kissing the pink marks left behind upon a deep groan, his hair tugged at, her fingers weaving into the roots. Her hand yanked in a fierce tug, her eyes gleaming with all the power her fuck wielded over him. 

“Bend for me, my king.” 

He leaned back, arching like the bend in a riverbank, her lips meeting his throat as her hips worked in serpentine against him, each roll viciously slow yet savagely thorough, her inner muscles clasping in spasm on his cock. She had him sent mindless rapidly, his deep moans filling the air, fingers digging into her shoulders as she rode him with ember-burning vigour. 

In the place she had kissed one brother to his death, she sent her other to the edges of the heavens, tongue sliding in a sensuous lick along the column of his neck, the roll of her hips a little more purposeful, staring at him intently. The love within her heart echoed through her dominance, gentle glimmers meeting the sharper edge she fucked him with, scraping like feather kisses and razor cuts across his soul.  

Releasing her grip within his long, silver mane, she pushed him down, her hand curling elegantly at his throat and holding him there, whispering words of love, lust and desire to him in their mother tongue, High Valyrian spells that held him bound, enchanted into the bed.  

The fervid nature of their tryst held no hope of anything more than a rapid chase to their simmering release, Aemella grinding down upon him determinedly, the lighting dancing at the base of her spine streaking fully, bouncing from strike point to strike point. She came with a wail, the flutters of her walls around him milking his cock to erupt deep in the velvet wet of her, both panting in exhaustion as she collapsed atop his chest. 

Sweet glimmers ebbed, his hands stroking her sweaty back, Aemella looking down upon him with the kind of wide, satisfied grin that made his laughter sound, kissing her head.  

“Such a smug face, wife,” he chuckled, hand stroking her cheek. 

Turning her head, she kissed his palm. “I always am when you come that hard for me, love.” 

Indeed, he had. Lying there with his mind a foggy mess, he could have happily fallen asleep again. He didn’t have the luxury of dozing in the aftermath of his bliss, though, both getting out of bed and bathing quickly before a flurry of activity overtook their morning. For the entire time as handmaidens rushed around them, they stole little glances at one another, Aemella bursting with pride especially. 

There he was, her twin, her husband, her love, and he was about to be coronated. She didn’t think she could feel prouder, but later that morning, with thousands of people gathered there within the dragonpit to bear witness to the new king being named, her heart could have burst.  

Once again, Otto Hightower announced the proceedings, his mighty voice booming through the huge, looming space. 

“People of Kings Landing, today again we are united in our grief, our family and the realm alike mourning the loss of our beloved King Aegon II. But it is with his passing we are now fortified once more in the hope for a solidified future, with his younger brother, Aemond I Targaryen, succeeding to the throne.” 

Seeing him walk towards the platform beneath the arch of swords, a tear slid down Aemella’s cheek. After all his childhood torment, such indignities and deep-cut wounds, being made to believe he was not good enough by means of cruel bullying via his brother and nephews, there he stood. A literal king amongst men.  

Every storm they had weathered together had led to this moment.  

“My queen.” he whispered as she greeted him with a soft kiss, moving aside as he knelt.  

The High Septon walked forward, taking the small, gold bowl of anointing oil from one of his aides, beginning to mark little slicks upon his forehead as he spoke. 

“May the warrior give him courage. May the smith lend strength to his sword and sheath. May the father defend him in his need. May the crone lift her shining lamp and light his way to wisdom.” 

He then took the crown, handing it to Ser Criston Cole, who could only hope as he raised it aloft, the head in which he would place it upon would hold better sense and judgement than that of his predecessor. 

“The crown of the conqueror, passed down through generations.” As it was placed upon his head, Aemond felt with it the great weight, but it was far eclipsed by the sense of righteousness. This was how it always should have been, he realised. 

His sense of duty and destiny intertwined as he rose, the anointing oil cool on his brow, and the crown's heaviness a testament to his newfound responsibilities. Aemella's heart surged with a mix of pride and resolve, knowing even more so than before that their shared journey of hardships had culminated in this literal crowning moment. She could see in his eye, the unwavering determination to rule with sense and efficiency, a stark contrast to his predecessor's short, yet volatile reign.  

The atmosphere in the dragonpit was electric with anticipation, every eye fixed upon the new king, a crown upon his head, ready to lead them. 

“Let the Seven bear witness.” Ser Criston continued, stepping back as Aemond stood, receiving bows of acknowledgement from his family, his heart virtually bursting into flame to see the way his queen smiled at him. 

“All hail his grace, Aemond, first of his name. King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.” 

Turning to his public, he nodded to them, standing poised before drawing his sword and holding it aloft, his name chanted by the thousands there to witness his triumph. Raucous applause and cheers filled the dragonpit, the celebration joyous and exuberant.  

Standing dutifully, Alicent leaned to her daughter. “Do you recall what it was that I told you, while you were still only a girl?” Studying her carefully, she inclined her head towards Aemond. “The husband is the head, but the wife is the neck…” 

Aemella finally peeled her loving gaze away from her husband. “And the neck can turn the head in any direction she wishes.” 

She nodded. “Exactly.” While her eyes flitted back to her son, she leaned close to her daughter’s ear. “I am trusting you to make those turns where you see fit, lest your husband become more unhinged than we both know well he is capable of being.” 

Something flickered in her daughter’s eyes, a dark light Alicent had rarely seen manifest itself. It chilled her for a moment, swallowing hard as Aemella leaned to her. 

“Trust that I know always, mother, exactly in which direction to wield my power.” 

Her statement should have settled her mother’s fears, yet for Alicent it only left her with an uneasy, nagging doubt over which of her twins truly was the more unhinged.  

Sheathing his sword, the king turned, extending his hand towards Aemella. She moved gracefully, taking it, Aemond pulling her close, his eyes glittering with adoration before turning back to the crowd. 

“My lords, ladies and gentlemen. I present to you your queen, Aemella Targaryen.” Very unprecedentedly, he then took to his knee before her, the cheers rapturous, kissing her hand. There was not a chance that on his coronation day, the woman who had brought him there would be pushed into insignificance. They were, after all, one. His triumph was hers. His adoration was hers.  

His rule was hers. 

As king, he planned to swiftly prove to her, too, just how significant she was to him. Not that she ever needed to be told, but there was a score to settle.  

The eroded cliffs that jutted out from the swirling sea stood formidable, Vhagar coming to land upon one of the high bridges that connected Pyke to its keeps. No matter that formidability, the mighty dragon dwarfed her standing, her ear-piercing roar signalling the arrival of the king.  

“My lord, king Aemond has this moment arrived upon Pyke, another dragon circling overhead.”  

Dalton Greyjoy did hate to be disturbed over dinner, but he would have been dealing in untruths had he stated not to have been waiting for this moment. “And what does the one-eyed king wish for from me?” 

His servant looked trepidatious, having of course witnessed the redoubtable air the new king had arrived in, waiting beside his colossal dragon for Dalton to make his way to him. “Your audience, outside.” 

Forking in a final mouthful of liver sausage, he swilled it down with a slug of ale, his eye sharpening towards his brother. “Come.”  

Obediently, Veron followed through the draughty halls and corridors, the sea spray flecking them as they walked to the bridge, Aemond standing in wait, arms folded.  

“Veron, stay where you are.” His eye burned like a flaming amethyst through the night as he stated menacingly at Dalton, curling his finger. “Proceed towards your king, Lord Greyjoy.”  

Dalton lifted his head as his feet strode out over the bridge, the ground as hard beneath his feet as the demeanour he wished to present himself with. Within himself, though, he felt his courage trickling. He’d never witnessed Vhagar close before, only from the air above. The mighty dragon stood as a chillingly terrifying sentry to her rider.  

“Halt.”  

Immediately, he stopped, the king still a good distance from him. “If you call me out here to discuss alliance...” 

That was as far as he got. “I call you out here at my queen’s behest, to answer for your crimes against her.”  

“My crimes?” he spluttered, his whole body stiffening as he jumped in fright, Fyreclaw’s screech from above shattering through the night.  

Aemond nodded, looking up at the sky as the dragon began to descend, Fyreclaw hovering in place in the air. “That is correct, Lord Greyjoy. Or did you think you would remain unpunished for all the times you raised a hand to my wife?”  

The colour began to drain from Dalton’s flushed cheeks, the king continuing. “I don’t take kindly to that, nor you attempting to rape her. Neither does she, as one might imagine.” 

Fear began to coil through him, entwined with a sense of indignance. “She told me herself that if I released her, she would not seek retribution!” 

Aemond sniffed, resting his hands upon the hilt of his sword. “You did not release her, though. I rescued her from your clutches. There is rather the difference there, wouldn’t you say, hmm?” 

Realising he was at a loss with the one quietly menacingly enraged Targaryen, he turned to appeal his plight to the other. “Aemella! Please! I beseech you. Do not do this to me!” 

“Address your queen correctly, you pathetic cunt,” Aemond gritted, looking up with pride as his wife.  

“You said that you would not have me burned, your grace! You swore it!” Dalton bellowed to the skies above, his voice only just audible over the mighty swish of Fyreclaw’s colossal wings. 

Aemella’s grin grew in its sinisterness, her pretty mouth twisting, all of the pain and humiliation she had felt simmering just below her surface. Here it was, what she had waited patiently for while putting other wheels in motion, her chance to offer a fitting punishment to another who had wronged her. 

“I lied.”  

The lord of Pyke, riddled with panic, sank to his knees, clasping his hands together. It was a piteous display. “I beg of you, please! Spare my life.” 

His appeals fell on deaf ears, for there was no room for mercy or pity remaining in the queen’s heart, a single word delivered with determination that sealed the Red Kraken's fate. 

“Dracarys!” 

With a bellowing breath, Fyreclaw roasted the man alive upon his rider’s instruction, Dalton screaming and flailing before he fell forward, charred to his very bones in mere moments.  

As Helaena had foreseen, the Red Kraken finally burned.  

Neither Targaryen flinched, and nor did his brother, the king moving past the fiery corpse and approaching Veron. 

“Your grace,” he spoke, bowing, looking up and extending the same to Aemella. 

“Lord Greyjoy,” Aemond replied, Veron realising that yes, he indeed was now. “I have a proposal I wish to put forth to you.” 

The proposal was a very rapid exchange, which lead to the newly appointed Lord Greyjoy sailing his fleet to Kings Landing, arriving three days later, to his first meeting upon king Aemond’s small council. He witnessed there the fallout to the king and queen’s actions against his brother, the lords present all quietly agreeing that the punishment he’d received had not been a becoming start to his new reign.  

Veron thought it very fitting. After all, it was no secret that should one play with fire, one should expect to get burned. It was no secret either that Dalton Greyjoy had been a monster. He had revelled in it, truly, worn it as a badge of honour. 

Perhaps the worst monsters of all were the ones who did not know that they were, though. 

“Not that he should have gone unpunished, your grace,” Otto began, the weight that had been lifted of one reckless grandson now bearing upon his shoulders once more. “He should have been reprimanded through the correct avenues. To burn the man to death shows a significant lack of restraint in a quest for personal indulgence.” 

Aemond sniffed with nonchalance, his fingers running over the smooth, marble ball before him. “Some claim the worst indignity a woman can face is that of a man forcing himself upon her. Others claim it is the loss of a child. My wife suffered the former, and could very nearly have also experienced the latter – for a second time, I hasten to add - had he been successful in his attempt to brutalise her.”  

A sharply glinted stare bored right through Otto’s eyes, a savage tingle he felt prickling somewhere in the back of his skull. “The queen’s choice was a very fitting retribution for his crimes against her.” The king then extended a hand down the table, nodding at Veron. “Which brings me to introduce you all to my newly appointed Master or Ships, Lord Veron Greyjoy. Tell me of our current standing regarding the blockade, my lord.” 

“I am happy to inform his grace that the Iron Fleet will set sail at noon, along with the fortifications of the triarchy. Together, we hope to annihilate the Sea Snake’s barrier with swiftness, allowing trade to pass through from Essos once more.”  

While talk circled the table over the finer logistics of Veron Greyjoy’s attack, Otto sat and ruminated silently, a small slither of foreboding coiling through his insides. Much like his daughter, he had always seen Aemella in the light of the harnesser of Aemond’s reckless side. To learn that it had been her idea to burn the Red Kraken to ashes did not sit well within him. 

For the new king to have ousted his mother from the small council only to bring his wife in, too, seemed very much a play of fortification. Concerningly, it appeared that both twins were a little too comfortable with the notion of trial by fire. Otto could only wonder just how many more ashes in their wake would sit in charred smoulder for all to see before they found their composure. 

“Together, they could be mighty, yet incredibly poised rulers,” he began, visiting with Alicent in her quarters a time later. “Equally though, if they forge together and exclude the word of all others, then we have an even greater challenge than Aegon on our hands.”  

Alicent had been toying with it in the back of her mind, not truly wanting to give light to the whispers. Whispers both in her mind and circulating the Red Keep, courtesy of a recently departed Lord Larys.  

“Do you believe it was her, father? The agent to Aegon’s demise?”  

Otto looked troubled by her statement. He would never wish to believe it of his gentle, wise granddaughter, yet when she was threatened... when Aemond was threatened... 

His thoughts swirled in a tempest of uncertainty, not unlike the storms that had beset their shores of late. He could not shake the grim realisation that Aemella’s protection of her husband, thus leading to an ambition to steer his seat to the Iron Throne might be a far more formidable force than he had ever anticipated.  

Seating himself, his fingers dug into the arm of the couch. “I beseech even myself not to believe such of her,” he began, sighing wearily. “Beneath Aemella’s calm poise always did lie something quite unnerving, though. Especially where Aemond is concerned.” 

The king and queen’s unification seemed an unbreakable bond, yet within it lay the potential for unchecked power, a wildfire in its own right, threatening to consume all that opposed its path.  

The flickering candlelight in Alicent’s quarters cast eerie shadows, shadows that seemed to whisper secrets of vengeance and betrayals. As father and daughter exchanged wary glances, the air grew heavy with unspoken truths, for they both knew that the line between justice and retribution was perilously thin. 

“Perhaps impending motherhood may gentle her,” Otto spoke finally, the heavy atmosphere cut through with the slither of hope.  

Alicent scoffed quietly, resting her chin upon her curled hand. “Or make her ten times more ferocious in her drive to protect what is hers.”  

Only time would tell. 

A/N - Now, did you enjoy what you just read? Please remember, this is not Instagram. Clicking that heart does little, but a comment? Your author will be rewarded. A comment and reblog? Your author is throwing roses at your feet! It takes less time to do this than it did for you to read the chapter, too. Please, be kind and help support the fandom! :) 

[murfpersonalblog]

Sam Reid on the Betrayal at the Heart of Season Two of ‘Anne Rice’s Interview with the Vampire’ - Awards Buzz

Awards Buzz: First of all, I love the show, I know you have heard that a 100-thousand times. What I'm curious about is that Interview with the Vampire deals very much with recollection and memory and unreliable narrators and all of these things. I am suddenly very nervous now that I'm actually in your presence, but--

Sam Reid: No I'm nervous that we're together chatting--I'm in your presence, let's be nervous together!

AB: As an actor, how do you sort of deal with portraying that, portraying maybe somebody else's recollection of this character--does that play into your thinking? 

SR: Yeah, and we talk about it all the time. I think it's something that we all do, playing these roles: we sort of look at how the character is at a specific period of time. I mean, with Lestat specifically, yes he's often seen through the eyes of Louis, but I can't say that Louis got it all wrong. But there are definitely moments where we're going to push into the hyper-archvillain. And I think, also playing with Armand’s perspective and Armand letting him--Armand sort of seeing him a bit more as a kind of, like a romance novel cover kind of thing. And what that dynamic is. But you know, Assad does a very similar thing, where he's sort of playing multiple characters at multiple different times. And Jacob does the same thing, where you see them through different lenses at different periods of time. I think that's sort of the joy of what this show is, and what it gives us as actors is the opportunity to kind of really have very mercurial flexible roles that we can try different things, explore different things. This was quite a fun thing to keep returning back to, because you don't really ever feel set in stone. You feel like you can give a new era a go, which I suppose is the joy of playing an immortal character, I guess.

AB:  Do you--I mean, I mentioned your charm; that's such a big part of the character. Do you feel like that's maybe like hard for you sometimes to have to be this sort of looming presence that sort of exudes all these different, like--the gamut of human emotion?

SR: What do you mean by hard?

AB: Like, do you feel a lot of pressure to be able to--there's so many facets in in Season 2, he's playing a person who is a vampire who's playing--?

SR: Oh sure! Yeah, of course! And it's always challenging, that's why it's so fun. It is a really challenging show, and it's sort of under the premise of it being a genre vampire show, but I guess really we use the metaphor of a vampire to be a much larger conduit to have really intense conversations about humanity. So you are playing a bunch of different levels at all times, which makes it challenging. And Rolin Jones also is like extraordinary at layering the script and layering every scene with as many different things as possible. He has a kind of obsession about making sure that an audience is never going to be bored, and he really wants you to lock in when you watch. And when you have to kind of translate that on set, sometimes you're obviously speaking multiple languages, you're usually doing some kind of a stunt with a rig of some kind, or multiple dialogues between multiple characters--one happening telepathically, and one happening in present day. There's so many things that he layers onto it. But yeah, 💖💖 I guess in terms of like keeping the overall arc of Lestat alive, it's sort of important that we remain connected to the love story at the center of it, which is Louis and Lestat. And so that you feel attached to their separation, and their experiences previously and going forward. That you as an audience member continue to invest in these characters and their push and pull. 💖💖 So that's kind of complex, because we have to play those beats sometimes in random and turnabout ways, like a ghost or a vision or-- Yeah so it's always challenging, but challenges are fun!

AB: Well, I feel like maybe if your next role is going to be quote unquote straightforward then you're going to be like: I miss all of that! I think about that all the time with actors, like how do you go on to just play some regular guy?! 

SR: It’s really fun playing a supernatural, very intense vampire. It can be kind of exhausting too.

AB: And that brings me to my next question, which is, like: The physicality is so interesting, not just because he's, again, this very graceful sort of--he's obviously been alive for centuries, but like you also have the blood and all these scenes-- What is it like for you to sort of inhabit this skin of this being? 

SR: I don't really-- I think the costumes do so much work for us. I think what was kind of, what is fun and and probably not really thought about too much is that we're all--we all have accents on the show, so we've all sort of developed these sort of character skins. So when we start playing the game of the show with each other, the accents come on and the physicality appears, and everyone just sort of slips into it. And we just kind of play! Really, it sounds a bit silly, but it's just a big game, so the physicality is sort of always there, because they're like the costumes that we put on. I think you do a lot of thought about it, early, in the beginning, and then now as we go on it's sort of ingrained, and sometimes you have to work very hard to pull back some of the choices that you've made, because you don't want to get stuck in a rut. Like, I say, these are mercurial characters, and they are ever-evolving, and you want to make sure that you don't get them stuck in a particular era, which is sort of like, one of the joys of the character of Armand is that he's always looking for a way into the new century, you know what I mean? 

AB: So I'm sure you're already aware of this, but in doing my research to talk to you, I realized that fans are very upset at how long they've had to wait in-between seasons. 👀😅 And then I wondered what's that like for you as an actor? Do you like having--maybe because you've talked about how when you're shooting the show you have to shoot very quickly, but as you're sort of waiting, do you feel like having that time helps you prepare? Do you find it maybe difficult to kind of come in and out, and then also having a lot of time pass, and you have to come back and talk to me about it?

SR: I mean it's difficult talking about Season 2, honestly. Because we're moving into a new season, and so sometimes I have to remember what's happened, but it might feel like a very long time for audiences, but actually we're working the whole time in-between. Like, actually making it, because the difference is: when a show comes out, the show is being shot in that period of time, or written or developed or rehearsed, and then they've got to go into posts, and we spend a lot of time in posts. We spend a lot of time doing ADR, or doing sound recording or whatever it is that we have to bring into it. So it actually doesn't necessarily feel like we get a break. It feels actually like the show just keeps going continuously, and it becomes a lifestyle in a way. Because then we're also promoting it, which also does take up quite a lot of time as well. 

AB: But do you feel like, I mean, I guess when you look back on Season 2, what stands out to you, and what's your overarching takeaway, like if I was writing a book about your experience on Interview with the Vampire? 

SR: What's the thing that I would take away from Season 2? Um, I think one of the key elements--which hopefully does translate--is that Louis and Lestat really betrayed Claudia. Claudia is the most important person in their lives, and in my opinion the show really--because she's such an incredible figure, and to lose her like we lose her in this season should feel so devastating that it creates a world-shattering reverberation throughout the show, and throughout subsequent seasons. So hopefully, the way that Armand, Louis and Lestat have all interacted with Claudia, and the way that this character has been betrayed by all three of them at different stages--and then obviously Delainey Hayles' extraordinary portrayal of this character, who is so fundamentally tragic. 💔 Because there's this adult trapped in a child's body, which is an amazing amazing Anne Rice-ian creation, that you should feel and walk away from this season feeling totally connected to Claudia, and be yearning for her like the rest of these vampires are, for many years to come. 👏❤️

AB: well I have to be honest with you: At the end of Season 1, I kind of hated Lestat! 

SR: Yeah, you should!  👈🫵😤👏

AB: He was just so monstrous at times, that I really struggled with, like: what am I supposed to feel for this character?! But I felt in Season 2 that things were maybe a little, like, softer, and there were more facets to him that I got to learn, and I felt more of a pull. 🥺👉👈 And so I wondered like, for you again playing--like, how do you maybe relate to the more monstrous things? Do you find it hard for you at times to empathize with this?

SR: I think, because we are telling this sort of onion kind of story, where you're peeling away at the artifice, and the point of view, and how Louis is framing Lestat, you're sort of meant to kind of feel like he's just--you're meant to hate him, you know? But as you peel it away, and the things he can't escape, and the memories he’s trying to erase but he can't, you start to see that there was a bit more of a different dynamic to that relationship. So yeah, I mean, I guess it was sort of--sometimes when, early in Season 1, I remember, there's a scene where, um, it's after they have a huge kind of attack basically, and just before Lestat drops him from the sky, and we had this really complicated rig where I had to pull Jacob down the alley, and um--that day was really challenging, because I just couldn't work out how to pitch it. Because it felt so felt so wrong, I was like: I just don't really know what I'm doing! 😩 Like, I couldn't work it out, so it is hard. You kind of have to find the level of not making it so extreme that we just step out of the realm of an audience being able to connect and care about it; but you also have to make it sort of arch enough to feel the stakes of the scene. And the same thing with the Trial episode. There's elements of it which you know Rolin--the way he crafts things is: he wants the audience to feel the most that they can feel about any given moment. He always goes "Well let's go to the furthest we can! Let's not give them a little kind of tickle; let's give them a smack!" And sorry I've used that analogy, but anyway! And so the Trial was challenging, because he really wanted that feeling to come you; wanted you wanted you to feel like Lestat was coming in there for vengeance, for revenge, you know? And there was--there's more than that; it's more complicated than that, there's a lot more going on. But we had to play it for the initial reaction, the initial heat, and then we could slowly slip in more layers around it afterwards.

AB: I love what you said about sort of vampire lore being our conduit to sort of explore all these deeper human emotions, and I felt like that was my experience watching the show. I thought a lot about resentments or anger--all these emotions, and how I sort of have to sit with them. And here are these people that have been around a lot longer than I have, and they're sitting with all these deep emotions. So I wonder: have you sort of wrestled with this idea of like maybe, how playing this character has influenced you, and the way you think about these sort of larger overarching themes in your own life? 

SR: Um, I think I'm always informed by any character that you play, and any experience you have--whether it be your job or not. You're sort of informed by it, in general, I think. So yeah, I'm sure I'm subconsciously--somewhere, I'm learning from this experience. But more often than not, you have to bring your own experience to these things, and you have to sort of supplement it for the context that you're given in the script. So yeah, I mean you know, I think everybody hopefully--well not hopefully, but you know--it's an important experience in your life, to have your heart broken. And it's important, you know, you learn a lot from that. And it's an important experience in life, if people are lucky to have it, to actually fall in love. 💔 And that's important, so I think, to be able to play these things, you have to have lived those experiences, so that you know you can make it feel human; you can make it make sense, and you're not just living in, you know, big genre fantasy world. 

AB: Sam, I have to let you go, but I do want to give you the final word, if there's anything that I haven't asked you about that you wanted to mention last, if there's anything you can tell me about Season 3, to hold on to.

SR: What was what was the first part of your question? If there's just anything else I want to tell you about Season 3, is that yes, we're very close to filming it, and we'll be filming in Toronto. Daniel Hart is working feverishly away, and I'm really excited for everybody to see the work that he has done, because it is extraordinary! 

AB: Well, I wish you the best of luck, and have fun on Season 3, and hopefully we get to catch up again, but thank you so much for your time.

[kabr0ztrousers]

had a couple ideas, so feel free to use both, neither, or modify them however you see fit! both involve a cocky adventurer lady having a bad time while trying to solo a dungeon. idea 1: involves her body being invaded by slime creatures just curiously exploring all of her holes (and maybe deciding not to leave said holes) and idea 2: involves her getting trapped in the sticky goop of some giant slugs, and them doing whatever giant slugs would do to a completely immobilized, fertile, young woman!

thanks for taking the time to read this, love your work!! also could i be 🦨 anon? :3c

Kabr0z Writes episode 101: Dungeon Slime

Find the rest of the Kabr0z Writes anthology here!

I have an AO3!

CWs: Dubcon; slime; suffocation; impregnation; uterine penetration; living clothing;

A/N: I actually got that AO3 account a little while back, but have literally no idea how that site works. Tumblr is still the first and foremost place to find my writing, but with recent outages it's never a bad idea to diversify!

#########################################

The tunnel smelled of old stone and piss. It wasn't actually piss, you knew that, the lichen clinging to the engraved walls just gives off ammonia. The ammonia, of course, smells of piss. You rubbed some away, the plant leaving a slick residue on your bracer as the engraving underneath was revealed to you. You were in the right place. The lost fortress of Urdimnish, Trade Tower.

You were here for a reason, of course, the Auric cell at the heart of the tower once kept an entire civilisation of magitech animunculi ticking. If it lived up to even half of the hype, the dwarves would pay a fortune for it. Enough to retire on and then some.

The gate was a simple enough mechanism, warded locks were state of the art when the city was built, easy pickings for any would-be adventurer. The real trick was finding your way through the labyrinthine tunnels carved through the mountain. Most of them weren't ever designed for anyone over about four feet tall, the ones that didn't require you to stoop were the palatial great halls and passages Dwarven architecture was known for.

You passed throne rooms and treasuries, hoards of silver and gold enough to purchase your wildest dreams. You filled a pocket or two, but you knew it's chicken feed compared to the real prize. Deeper and deeper you delved, through lifeless corridors. Nobody knew entirely what happened to the primordial dwarven culture that built this place. One day, it seemed they all decided to leave their burrows and fortifications, never to be seen again. Who knows, maybe someone will find some clue here through careful study of the engravings on the walls.

At last you reached the floor you wanted. The corridors were hot this deep, the bowels of the earth warming the smooth stone. Maybe that's why there's no lichen this deep? Your torch flickered in your hand, glinting off polished brass fixtures in the walls. The deeper you crept, the more copper and brass shone back at you, until you saw it. A glass ball, roughly the size of your head. Gold flecks swam in the crystal, chasing one another around the orb as you watched. This couldn't be anything but the Auric cell hidden here, at the deepest darkest pit of the long-lost fortress. Thick gloves protected your hands as you reached for it, the warmth of the cells surface radiating out as your fingers brushed the glass.

It wasn't glass. Your hands sunk into the surface of the cell as the surface slid over your arms, then up to your shoulders. You flinched back, but the orb came with you, receding in size as it covered you in a paper-thin film of hot, gold-tinged fluid. It reached your chest, sliding under your armour and over your tits before venturing down your belly, slipping over your suddenly all-to-exposed stomach. The glassy liquid flowed upwards too, you pressed your lips together as it covered them, sliding into your nostrils and over your eyes. Gold motes danced over your vision. Your head swum as your lungs burned. You needed to take a breath.

The glass lurched downwards, coating your clit in a hot sheen of fluid, sliding down to press at your hole. The sudden sensation made you gasp on reflex, sucking in a gobbet of the shiny liquid. It coated the inside of your mouth in moments, slipping down your throat as a tendril pushed its way into your cunt. The slime felt around your insides, pressing and prodding at your folds and inner walls, finding its way into every corner of you. The thin film started retreating from your sinuses, clearing your nose as more was redirected into your slick cunt.

You took a breath. You'd fallen, but mustn't have noticed when you landed, legs apart on the stone floor. The growing mass of fluid glass in your cunt was pulsing, getting larger and hotter. You groaned as it stretched you out, leaning back as your hips rolled back, opening you beneath your clothes to nobody in particular. The film over your clit shivered; a soft steady buzzing sending warmth through you in waves. More of the slick, firm substance caressed your nipples, sucking and squeezing at them as you felt them harden and stand on end.

The substance probed at your cervix. You gasped as it slid through the tight gap like water through a sieve, sliding around your womb. More and more of it piled into you, until it was all focused on your cunt. You lay down as your hands strayed to your tits, slipping under your linen top to caress the soft skin, fingers pinching at your nipples as the humming, buzzing slime filled you, shifting around inside as it got comfortable.

A sharp pain made you gasp, just a little cramp radiating from your now-swollen belly, drowned out by a wave of pleasure that flowed from your occupied belly. A groan escaped you as you lost yourself to the flow of relief, submerging into your orgasm like a warm bath. It was the best lover you'd ever had, clenching around smooth curves that conformed to your every fold and crevice. It vibrated inside you in gentle pulses, elongating your sighs and moans of release until at last you came back down.

The creature was still inside you, round and warm. You could still feel it, gently humming away in your womb, a bump filled out your silhouette, like an expectant mother.

You took up your abandoned torch and turned to leave.

There's no way you're giving this to the dwarves.

##########################################

This is another "absurdly late from yesterday" episode, so don't worry, you're still getting another one tonight 😉

Also, I have literally no idea if the CWs on this one are appropriate, or if there's stuff I should've put but didn't... Answers on a postcard I guess

[badgalsasuke]

What did Sasuke mean when he admitted to understanding Naruto's feelings "how when you're with me you wonder if this is what it's like to have a brother" in chapter 699?

Hi anon!

Well, Sasuke is pretty clear in his speech/thoughts which is basically a love letter to Naruto, on how now he understands what he meant by those words because they're now able to feel each others' pain.

Naruto, at this time I recalled those words you said here once before. How when you're with me you wonder if this is what it's like to have a brother. That feeling of yours… I think I finally get what you meant. As I travel far and wide across the world I often reflect back on those days. We started out as lonely brats starved for love and fostering hate. We chose different paths to walk… and battled each other. But now that time has passed… It's just like how I came to feel father, mother and my brother's Itachi's pain and emotions… I'll now start knowing your pain and feelings too, Naruto. You never cut me off in fact, you kept trying to get closer to me. You could've justifiably come charging at me with hatred… but you never stopped calling me your friend. Even though I tried to sever those feelings myself you stopped me, as a friend even at the cost of your hand. And I was saved thanks to you. We were insignificant little things who used to clash and now we're able to claim each other's pain. And after seeing the world via my travels I believe this concept can be applied to even bigger things than just us. But it's not something that can be done as easily as you were able to. I never assumed it would be simple, just like it wasn't with the two of us. Especially with something so big. It's kind of like a prayer. To keep enduring until it comes to be, no matter what. And to those whom that task falls on… Perhaps that's what it means to be a ninja.

Kishimoto is continuing the long literary tradition found across centuries of Japanese literature of bonds between two males rivaling in depth and strength the bonds of blood-related people, hence the "I want them to be more brothers than blood brothers" interview

But Kishimoto has also explained further what he meant by all this in some of the interviews he gave after the series finale.

For example, in the CUT Magazine interview, Kishimoto explains how Sasuke and Naruto have different ideologies on how to tackle issues and struggles in the shinobi world. Sasuke believes in shouldering all the hatred all by himself which he can only achieve by severing his bond with Naruto, so by admitting his own defeat he is also admitting his true feelings and acknoledging himself just as much as he accepts he acknowledges Naruto

This sense of cooperation and connecting with others that Naruto feels is also transmitted to Sasuke after their final battle, that's why Sasuke mentions in his speech "I believe this concept can be applied to even bigger things than just us." Kishimoto also expands on his Da Vinci Magazine interview

Ninjas are a reflection on the Japanese people, specifically the generation that survived WWII, through this cooperation of communities they were able to endure and become the Japan that exists today, Kishimoto is projecting those feelings onto Naruto and Sasuke and their vision of the world. Kishimoto seems to share this belief of "all men are brothers".

So you have the two meanings behind the quote of the speech. Naruto and Sasuke's bond is so strong it rivals the ones of blood-relatives hence why they're able to feel each others pain and feelings and why Sasuke mentions his dad, mom and brother, that's how close Naruto is to him. But also that in their ability to understand each other and cooperate they see a vision on how to tackle their world's problems, hence why they become Hokage and Shadow Hokage.

[enwoso]

i can see lovie having a relationship with harrison but it not being like a father daughter one. like she knows he’s her dad and he’s there for her and that but she sees leah and alessia as her parents.

like it’s a kind of relationship where she only ever hears from him like once very four weeks or smth, sometimes months at a time. maybe he has his own family and she has like two siblings through him but never really has a sibling relationship with them. her being like 16/17 and them being like 5 and 3

oooo i love this vision for teen lovie.

should i make a spin off based on this maybe harrison telling lovie she has siblings and maybe meeting them? if people would read that???

[musickgeek]

Shadows {BG3 x Tav}

1066 words. Act II spoilers, slight angst

Pairing: Astarion x GN!Tav

The party had successfully defeated the shadow monsters in the basement of the Mason's Guild. Your friends were all worn weary from the day, but still looked to each other in victory before noticing that someone did not share their triumph. Tav? You sat on your knees in the center on several discarded shadow vestiges, the orbs glowing around you as if calling for attention. You felt drawn to it, something inside pushing you to gently press your hand against the one closest. You're overcome with emotion as a happy, faded memory flashes in your mind. It feels as though you'd been sent back in time, launched into another's body. 

The others notice silent tears flow from your face, you look utterly distraught. They looked to each other for something to say before both sets of eyes landed on Astarion. It was not a secret in the camp that the two of you had gotten quite close. Astarion felt uncertainty bubbles up. He had never seen you so weepy. He was unsure how to approach anyone like this, let alone the person that seemed so untouchable. The person who seemed to make the best of every situation, and smile at the end of a hard day.

"I can feel the warmth of home, and hear the laughter of children, his children. But they laugh no more." You pick up another. "A woman holding hands with her husband-to-be. She loved him so much." And another. "This one hid for days, hearing the sound of battle come closer. All they wanted was for it to be over..." You seemed more inconsolable with each touch, looking off into the distance at something that wasn't at all in front of you. "These were once people, people who had so much to give. People's lives ripped apart by this tainted earth. I can hear their voices, I can feel their emotion. We must cure this wretched land, we mustn't let this happen to any more innocents." You were practically begging your friends despite knowing they would follow your lead. The scene became somber, but they all nodded regardless. 

Astarion wanted to wipe your tears, he ached seeing you like this, but did not move. He found he had no words of comfort. If he was being honest, he didn't care much for these shadows or their past lives. He cared for you, but that too was hard to admit aloud sometimes. You collected them, and insisted on burying the memories to respect what they once were. Astarion might as well have been studying you as the group walked back outside. It was obvious the memories continued to effect you; you all but sobbed as you held them against you. 

You tried pick out how many children you could hear, counting two boys and a girl. You wanted to catch the names of those lost, and their loved ones. The woman calls her soon to be husband Damien, and he calls her Melody. You try to glimpse their faces, but never manage to. Still, you feel their breath as if it were your own. Nervous and heavy, yet stifled to remain quiet. The more you learn, the more you grieve them as if they were kin. Still, you would not let go. You wanted to remember their stories.

Astarion couldn't figure out why this was so important to you. Why those memories has so deeply affected their fearless leader. They were not important to your mission, they were lost long ago. You do not share your visions. Without a word from yourself or the group, you lead them back to camp for the night. Once there, the others split to their tents, but you went a small ways away to bury the shadows. Your body visibly relaxes as your separate the orbs from your touch, both relieved and exhausted. Astarion, who had been watching the exchange, walks over to meet you. You sit on your knees, muttering well wishes to the lost souls as he sits besides you. He can tell you're a bit irritated he'd invaded your moment, so he remained quiet and waited for you to talk. He doesn't have to wait too long.

"I wish I could return these memories to their loved ones." You admit. "I can't understand why. Your big heart always does seem to allude me." He tries to joke, but he wishes he could eat the words when they just make you frown deeper. "These are lives, Astarion. Lives ruined by this curse, the cult, this evil. I... We can't save them. It isn't fair that they had to be ripped from what could have been." Astarion was taken aback by the answer, if he was honest. He felt a pang of grief as he remembered being ripped from his life to be made into a spawn. "I'm sorry. You can't save everyone." He said, trying to hide how bitter he felt. You shake your head. "I know, but...if I'd been taken by the shadows, if I had been reduced to this orb with just a glimpse of who I was... what would you do with it?" You looked him in the eyes, and saw his features soften the way they only did for you. "I'd cherish it every day. The way I cherish you." He answered genuinely. Though he didn't appreciate the thought of your death, he understood your point. "Exactly. As would I. And I would give them that comfort too, if I could. I suppose this will have to suffice." You lean your head on his shoulder, an act he welcomes. "I'm sure there are others, shadows with memories suffering inside. I know we have so much on our plate, but..."

Astarion knew what you wanted to do. If it would ease your troubled mind, he would do it for you. "Then we will find them, and you can lay them to rest. With you looking after them, my sweet, I'm sure the souls are at peace." He wasn't convinced the souls felt anything, but he wouldn't say that to you. Besides, he surely felt that way with you at his side. You smile, prompting him to place a soft kiss to the top of your head. You wonder who else you might find, what stories you might relive for them. You wonder if, somehow, these souls would help you find their friends. "I hope so."

[moonyskarma]

song shifting activity . . .

marauders dr || credits to @withluvvenus || playlist link

— i'm doing this as more "what part of my marauders dr does [insert song] remind me of, instead of "which dr does [insert song] remind me of"

#1 ─ somebody to love . . . queen

"i just gotta get out of this prison cell" this song is like, the desire to be free from the house of calloway. to be myself, finally, to find "somebody to love" that doesn't see me as just an heir. to find somebody who sees me.

#2 ─ across the universe . . . the beatles

"nothing's going to change my world" this to me is my visions. my prophetic abilities, if you will. it's like, accepting that i'm "the cursed one" and nothing can change that. that i'll always be sort of "across the universe", and i just have to... deal with that.

#3 ─ ashes to ashes . . . david bowie

"strung out in heaven’s high // hitting an all-time low" this is very me. very much about my connection to my abilities. specifically the darker ones, and how it affects me, and in turn how it affects my relationships with people around me.

#4 ─ comfortably numb . . . pink floyd

"hello? // is there anybody in there? // just nod if you can hear me" + "i have become comfortably numb" oh my god. this is me. this is me and my visions. nobody being able to reach me, being disconnected for a while because all i can see and hear is the vision. the second part is the struggle that comes with being a seer, and how sometimes it's easier to be numb.

#5 ─ goodbye yellow brick road . . . elton john

"goodbye yellow brick road // where the dogs of society howl" ooh, this one is definitely another leaving-Calloway-to-be-free kind of song. leaving the "yellow brick road", aka the path that was chosen for me, my so-called birthright.

#6 ─ criminal world . . . david bowie

"i'm in the criminal world // but i'm never going to be a criminal" might i just say i fucking love this song. like?? okay, this is me growing up a Calloway, in a family that isn't as tied in with the dark lord as the House of Black, but.. you know. It's in there somewhere, and this is like, even though i grew up like that, i'm not like that, yknow?

#7 ─ rock 'n' roll suicide . . . david bowie

"time takes a cigarette // puts it in your mouth" + "you're a rock 'n' roll suicide" + "you're not alone" dare i say one of my favorite bowie songs. this i fear is me thinking about my role in all of this — in the war, especially. how the world's kind of fucking me over. me being a "rock 'n' roll suicide" is how i'm trying to get away from my namesake and everything, and being the opposite of what my family would've wanted. "you're not alone" is like, my friends around me drawing me out of my head and keeping me sane.

#8 ─ death on two legs . . . queen

"you suck my blood like a leech // you break the law and you preach” + “feel good, are you satisfied? // do you feel like suicide?” this... is barty. fucking barty crouch jr. brilliant and beautiful and venomous. this song is the aftermath of a fight, with sharp words and barty's nails digging into my arm as he pulls me down a corridor. the sting of my palm on his cheek when he goes too far. this is me and him, messy and crooked and so wrong yet so right.

#9 ─ time . . . pink floyd

"ticking away the moments that make up a dull day // fritter and waste the hours in an offhand way" + "no one told you when to run, you missed the starting gun" this one is very much my issues with time. in every reality, especially this one, i fucking hate the passage of time. in this one, passing time is just a reminder that my prophecies are getting closer and closer, and there's nothing i can do to stop them or change them which is like.. terrifying.

─ okay okay this is the last post of today !! i think !!