#STARTED AS A SOLID MIDDLE OF THE PACK SHOW FOR ME

[crehador]

with yet another astonishingly good episode, overtake! slides into first and takes my anime of the season vote from frieren

it is just that good

ep9 spoilers under the cut

we finally get kouya's full backstory with this episode, and i gotta say i absolutely loved it. i'm glad they didn't pull their punches and push the publication of that photograph off on someone else

it would've been easy to say in the aftermath of the tragedy, kouya was a wreck and someone else got their hands on his data and published the photo without his consent. while that would have washed kouya's hands of the decision, it would have diminished the power of his story so much imo

he's the one who chose to publish it, and he's clear on his reasons. that makes it all so much more impactful to me (might write about this more later when i have a more stable internet connection)

the short of it is i'm blown away by how they handled his backstory, not at all disappointed

absolutely loved haruka in this episode too, he may only be a child and has some childish/overly simplistic ways of thinking, but when he realizes that he shows the drive (no pun intended) to really learn and grow

when he realizes he doesn't understand kouya as much as he thought or as much as he would like, he doesn't just despair and angst about that. he straightforwardly makes it clear that he wants to know more

and that development is the most beautifully composed thing to me in this episode

while kouya is talking about his past, we get these shots

even as he starts to share, there's this literal physical distance between him and haruka. it was especially crushing in that first screenshot where haruka reaches out to him and doesn't reach him

then, finally, we get this once haruka knows everything and understands

connected :')

i have SO much more i could say about this episode tbh, but will wait until i can type at a laptop again. overtake! again makes me feel like i want to start actually thinking about media again, not just mindlessly consuming lol

honestly just tl;dr gorgeous episode gorgeous story new anime of the season

[1-800-local-slut]

rio getting to know shy reader but realizing she far from that now that’s she’s getting comfortable with him.

-🪡

He's Right

I hope you like this! I made it hella suggestive at the end. Please let me know what you think! I just started this show Rio is literally my baby daddy but I'm only like four episodes in so I'm if it's too out of character.

Likes and reblogs are very appreciated!

Pairing: Rio (good girls) x shy! black! reader

Warnings: cheating, mentions of traumatic past, cursing, suggestiveness at the end, reader has a boyfriend

I need him in a way that isn't natural, I need him in my draws NOW.

______________________________________________________________

"Can I help you with anything sir?" Rio glanced up, his sharp eyes leaving the book he was examining.  The Lord of the Flies or some shit. He was sure he read it in school. But that didn't matter. What mattered was the woman standing before him. His eyes flicked to her neckline, seeing the star shaped necklace around her chest. That right there was perfect, telling him everything he needed to know about her relation to his target.

The woman was the younger sister of King Jericho. Otherwise known as some lame ass pimp who made the mistake of stealing from Rio. And no one steals from him and gets aways with it.

He still remembers how he was sitting with Marcus in a McDonald's drive through. Marcus was eating chicken nuggets, getting barbecue sauce and shit all over his mouth. Rio was telling him to take it easy, then he heard chiming. His phone rang, and Mick told him that their man went ghost. And when they couldn't find him, that meant they couldn't find Rio's money. And THAT was a problem.

So to make a long story short, Rio had to go the long way and go to his family. Mom sent him and Mick packing, dads dead. Only person left was his sister. And that led him to the gorgeous brown skinned woman before him.

"Of course you can, mama. I need help, I'm looking for King." His eyes scanned over her entire body, looking for something, anything, that could get him some help. Her brown eyes, and long eyelashes blinked at him but they didn't show fear or recognition. Instead she stared patiently waiting for him to continue. Nothing, time to try something else.

"Is that a series? Or an author? Do you know the genre?" Trying her best to do her job, he watched her reach into her side for her walkie talkie. So she didn't know about the King part, time to check if she knew about Jericho.

"Nah, it's none of that. I'm looking for Jericho." And there it was. The second the words left his voice in his usual charming manner her eyes filled with panic. Goosebumps appeared on her brown skin and one of her hands flew to her hair. He noticed for the first time that it must be a wig, black hair was in waves down her body and parted down her middle. For some reason her shiny hair was oddly enticing to him. Her teeth sunk into her plump, glossy lips and Rio's eyes flickered over them.

"Like...from the Bible?" Her soft voice was like music to his ears. If only that sentence wasn’t so stupid.

"...The Bible." He repeated while narrowing his eyes. Either he was being played for stupid,which was not a smart thing to do or she was stupid. He wanted to believe the woman he just found attractive even for a moment wasn’t an idiot. 

“Nah girl. I think you know what I’m talking about.” Placing the book that was still in his hands on the table behind him. Her chest was heaving quickly and she was clearly beginning to panic. Rio moved his eyes up to Mick, who was looking at a cookbook with Snoop Dogg on the cover. With a wave of his two fingers, Mick began to intercept her escape.

“I don't, I'm sorry. I don’t think I can help you, maybe you should check somewhere else.” Slowly turning on her heels, she walked head first into Mick. His solid chest stopped her, and nudged her glasses further up on her face. Stepping back she softly groaned and readjusted her lenses.

“Now, this looks like an interesting book. Can you tell me what it’s about?” Rio asked, sitting down and Mick led her to put her plump behind, that Rio noticed when he saw her through the shop's window. She nervously took a seat. While clenching and unclenching her hands on her skirt, Rio watched her with observant eyes. With a glance, he motioned to the book attempting to get her to tell him the truth. With a shaky breath one of her manicured hands reached for the book.

“It’s Lord of the Flies. It revolves around this group of British boys who are stranded on an uninhabited island and try to govern themselves. Things go bad really really fast.” Her brown eyes met him once more and he smirked. In response, she looked down at the table and snuck two looks at him.

“Oh nice nice, it got a nice ending n shit?” With a swift nod, he hummed. He kept his eyes trained on the golden star dangling from her chest, probably bought with Rio’s money.

“Alright, here’s the deal. Your brother’s a bitch. He stole from me and ran out, and I need to find him. And I need you to tell me where he is.” She swallowed thickly. 

“And who exactly would you be?” 

“My name ain’t important moma. Just know, I know you. I know your mom, I know your auntie and your grandma, I know your boyfriend too. You mom is vicious, she sent my ass packing and told me to try you next.” Her eyes got wider and wider with each sentence. He’d probably be shocked too if his own mom sold him out. Her brother had always been trouble for her. At least that’s what he gathered. She’s had to get him out of trouble more than once. Mostly out of trouble with men, going on dates and what not for his sake. No way they weren’t talking any more. 

“Look, I don’t know anything about my brother. I haven’t talked to him in like 3 years! I can’t help you. Whatever debt he’s got with you, I can’t settle it.” With a scoff and a sigh, Rio rolled his eyes lightly. Her eyes went wide at his laughter, her finger digging into her nails. She was afraid of him. He didn’t like that, but that brother of hers seems  to have gotten her involved with a lot over the past few years.

“Relax, ma I ain’t gonna hurt you. I just need you to tell me where he is.” Her head shook quickly, her hair flying around wildly. She was still denying contact.

“That’s a nice necklace. You enjoying 21?” Her face went stiff. Her mouth opened slightly to respond, her glossy lips parting. Then they shut quickly as he saw tears well up in her eyes. He was right. The necklace was sent to her apartment by her brother exactly one week ago for her 21st birthday.

“I can’t help you. I don’t know where he is, this didn’t have a return address. It came in an Amazon bag! I mean, if I could I’d help you but I can’t do anything for you gentlemen.” She was trembling in her seat, and two tears escaped her eyes. But if she could receive something from him, she could learn exactly where he was. And given he had no leads, he had to settle for asking her to find out for him. 

She was crying like he had threatened her, and he partially imagined what type of people she had been around to warrant a reaction like this.

“Look ma, I just need you to stop crying. Can you do that?” He asked and she nodded, wiping tears from her face.

“I can’t just let you go though. Your brother sent you something and I need you to find out where he sent it from. That’s it. Tell you what, put this book on hold for me. Imma be back tomorrow, with enough to pay for it. Nothing’s gonna happen to you, I just need you to learn this for me.” He slid out of his seat, leaving the trembling woman there and she placed her face in her palms in dismay.

______________________________________________________________

“Shit! What the fuck Rio?! You just break into my fucking house, you couldn't give me a phone call?” Growled the woman in a  slightly drunken anger. She turned on the lights next to the door and kicked off her heeled shoes. His eyes looked up and down her curved figure and she glared at him. Rio let out a laugh and his head lolled back on his shoulders. He was sitting on the back of her couch, petting her black cat who purred gently. Rio already found out that her cat adored anyone who fed her. 

“Well yeah baby. We still haven’t found your punk ass brother.”  Her eyes rolled hard into her head, and she threw her purse down and came around to the couch. Plopping down on her couch, Rio looked over at her soft skin covered by her golden dress.

It had been about two months. Two months since Rio went into the bookstore she worked at. Two months after the third day he entered the shop and she informed him that she found him. Then when he got there and found Jericho skipped out once again. And from there, something about her kept Rio coming back to bother the shy woman. Except she wasn't what he thought at first.

The woman slouched on the couch right next to him was vulgar, loud and proud, abrasive and more. She cursed at him, cursed out the TV, cursed out her mother and grandmother and boyfriend. She cursed out Rio. She was perfect for him. She was nice to him, despite their off putting first meeting. She put him in his place when she felt he needed it. She wasn’t afraid to tell him to shut his goofy ass up in her exact words. But still, sometimes he’d look at her and she looked just about ready to fold for him. And Rio liked that shit.

Now in a golden mini dress that she wore, with body glitter all over her breast was enticing Rio. She smelt like a mix of vanilla and a bar. In truth, if she could find her brother for him he didn’t care anymore. He could find him on his own with the clues they found at his last known location. In fact, soon enough they’d get their final location. He just liked bothering her. And it wasn’t like she was even bothering to look for him anymore. Last he asked she told him to suck her dick, she wouldn’t be searching for shit. 

“What’s wrong baby, you have a shitty night?” He asked, taking one of his large hands and cupping her face. He noticed her thighs pressed together with intense pressure. A smirk came across his face, and ran a thumb over her stained lips. She leaned into his touch and he waited for his answer.

“My boyfriends being a cunt again.” She sighed and her cat jumped into her lap, patting his paws on her soft thighs. Rio wanted to do that too, boyfriend be damned.

“Oh yeah?” He asked his hand itching down to her neck and his pinky scraping over the chain of that star necklace. That same necklace that pushed them to meet. Her eyes stayed glued to his, as she glanced up at him with wide eyes.

“He’s going on about not trusting my friendship with you. Then he told me to get the fuck on, since I didnt want to dance at the club. He was like ‘oh you rather dance with that other nigga?’ and I was like  ‘he’s not a fucking pussy, he could probably dance better than you’ so he told me to fuck off and I left him and told him not to come home tonight. You’re the other nigga in question. The niggas trippin, he keep bitching about it. He says he knows you wanna fuck me. He’s being a bitch, it’s making me want to cheat on him.” Suddenly he smirked at her. She raised an eyebrow, still feeling the heat of his hand on her throat and rubbing her thighs together.

“And what if I told you he was right?” His hand was now lightly around her throat, and he brushed pieces of her curly afro out of her face with his free hand. Slowly she began to process his words. Then a wicked smile crossed her face and she licked her lips.

“You should do something about that then.” Her voice now low and seductive, as he saw sparks of mischief in her eyes. He leaned in and pressed his lips against her soft ones. They pulled away for a moment and he lightly squeezed her throat harder. Licking his lips, he tasted the liquor and her strawberry lipgloss.

“I’m about to show you what else I’m better than his ass at.”

[fict1onallyobsessed]

Can I pretty pls have fluff with Rhea Ripley x Fem reader with the prompt "Let me show just how much you mean to me"

Gently

Rhea Ripley x Reader

She wasn’t used to being treated gently.

She was the one to always care, always provide.

She was big, a strong woman that had massive muscles and she was treated as much. A strong woman.

So when you gently cupped her cheek, took the rag from her fingertips and began to wipe away the blood on her lips it almost made her cry.

Your touch was so serene against her skin that she even dared to melt into your hand, her eyes closing as you rubbed away the blood that poured out during her match.

The locker room was quiet, only the presence of you and Rhea sitting on a bench in the middle in complete silence.

Your now empty hand, one that previously held the rag, cupped the other side of her face. Your fingertips reaching to place a strand of her short black hair behind her ear.

“How’s your lip?”

She scoffed softly, a small smile barely reaching her tired eyes showed itself. She reached for something behind her before showing you a small metal ring in her palm.

“I ripped by smiley.”

You offered a sympathetic smile, knowing that’s why she wasn’t so down right now. She was so tired, you could see it in her eyes. The eyes that never left yours for a solid few seconds before you leaned down to kiss her forehead.

“Let’s get you back to the hotel, huh? You don’t have any media left?”

She shook her head and didn’t even bother changing out of her gear. She put a hoodie and some sweats over it as you packed her bag, throwing it over your shoulder, waiting for her to finish.

You reached out your hand towards her as she walked closer to you. Her hand immediately took yours, interlocking her fingers with yours and walking out together.

When you reached your hotel room, she sighed a breath of relief, pulling you gently towards her. She leaned down and caught your lips with hers, completely taking you by surprise. Her hands found home at your waist, pulling you impossibly close to her body before she started to walk with you towards the bed.

“You mean the world to me.” She whispered against your lips.

“I know, you do too.”

She hummed into your mouth, falling onto the bed as softly as she could with you under her. Your back met the mattress, her body quickly but gently climbing over yours.

“Let me show you just how much you mean to me.”

THE END

[j0kers-light]

Hey Chaos! I have a headcanon idea, I think you do accept those and what you have are the closed oneshots??? Correct me if I'm wrong and feel completely free to ignore this ask

How do you feel about Joker x Mermaid! reader, maybe before he was the Joker, being Jack, or maybe his previous form, a malformed and strange mix of the man he was before and the one he will become in the future, a tormented soul who in the middle of the war he is fighting, trying to find a meaning to his life, hears a sweet song that draws him to the sea

It is then that she sees Reader, a mermaid wounded by some bullet, bomb, debris that has fallen into the sea, and she sees the goodness in him, and for a second he believes that he can be good, but upon seeing the monster hiding behind that man's eyes, Reader decides to leave forever.

What do you think about writing something like this?? Maybe headcanons pre during and post relationship (without hinting much at J's past, we love our mysterious King!)

Thank you!!🩷

His Lighthouse: Surface Level (LedgerJoker x f!reader)

Surface Level - Oneshot

KEEP IN MIND THIS IS NOT A CHAPTER UPDATE!

Hey hi my sweet anon!!

Now I thought I was gonna let this be a head canon.... then I got to typing and here we are. It turned into a oneshot! Your idea got my brain a flowing and I was unable to stop. I had TOO much fun with this one and it shows. Thank you so much for your patience and I do hope you enjoy. 🥰🥰

As always, if you wish to be apart of the His Lighthouse official taglist, do let me know via comment, ask, or a quick direct message! 🖤✨

P.S. if anyone is interested in the first siren call you sing listen to this 👇🏾for inspiration.

Captain said not to wander the beach late at night. Several men were already declared missing for not heeding the warnings. 

The local elders of the island also warned the men not to invoke her wrath. Their foreign chants sounded like rubbish to Jack’s ears yet he felt something strange befall him after one of the women flicked seawater infused with tropical herbs on his face. He was then forced to drink something putrid all to strengthen his bond with the sea.  

They wanted to ‘protect the Americans’ and held a ceremony to bless the squadron when another solider was declared missing.  

In short, Jack was ready to leave this hell hole. The endless sea and squawking seagulls were driving him insane. Jack longed to be deployed in active duty, in the heat of battle; not keeping the peace with the natives who were blissfully unaware of the raging war surrounding them.  

None of their rituals and charms mattered and that was the mindset that led him to sneak out his barracks with a pack of cigs and a bottle of rum.  

No one would notice him gone. He was not well liked within his squadron, a loose cannon ready to blow, they described him. The others were content being stationed in the civilian zone. Not Jack. His fingers itched for war but for now he was stuck here.  

He kicked off his boots the second he arrived at the white sandy beach.  

It was beautiful out with the moon high in the sky. It casted a glow on everything and highlighted Jack lighting a cigarette. He blew the smoke into the night sky without a care.  

He didn’t care about anything as he took swigs from his bottle. Was this all he was good for? Getting drunk night after night guarding an island? 

There were times that Jack thought of drowning himself at sea just to get away from the absolute nothingness this place brought.  

His friends back home were lucky. Hal was stationed right on the front lines and Ethan had already died fighting for his country. It just wasn’t fair they got to prove themselves whereas Jack was stuck on some military base in the middle of nowhere.  

The island was so remote, half of the occupants didn’t speak English, and almost all of the children had never seen ‘Americans” before. It was ridiculous and don’t get him started on the local folklore.  

If he had to hear one more prayer to their make-believe deity, he would puke.  

“Stay away from the sea when Y/n calls!” A translated omen was told. “She preys on tormented souls, like you brave men! Do not fall to her song!” 

No one gave proof that she existed except for tales and fables and constant headaches with all this mythical nonsense.  

Did they really believe a woman, half fish, half goddess could lure men out to sea with just her voice? It sounded straight out of a children’s bedtime story.  

Jack rolled his eyes every time an elder pleaded with him as he prepped for a nighttime patrol. If this was a siren who drowned men in the sea, why were they purifying him with seawater?  

Yeah, he would be real careful while out on duty.  

He had a better chance of being shot than lured to sea by some fish. The night dragged on as Jack downed his bottle and pondered life while overlooking the ocean.  

It was still as beautiful as it been the first night he arrived several months ago. The waves were foamy, crashing onto the dark rocks lining the shore. All was quiet and before long, Jack’s eyelids started to fall.  

Until he heard something.  

It was the saddest melody he ever heard.  

Without thinking, he turned course and shuffled over to the more treacherous stretch of the island. Here jagged rocks outlined the shoreline for half a mile. The water was colder and darker, holding the secrets the locals so desperately tried to ward away.  

Funny how they worshipped and feared the sea. Or rather what lurked within.  

Jack had no conscious thought as the waves tickled his calves, inciting him to wade in deeper. He couldn’t feel the numbing cold, yet he felt the anguish and helplessness being sung so beautifully.  

The call echoed loudly over the waves until it stopped like a record scratch. It was enough to snap Jack out of his fog and realize he was standing waist deep in the ocean. 

“The f__k?” he wasn’t that drunk. How did he get in the water? 

Jack was preparing to return to shore when he heard a splash followed by a strangled moan. His instincts demanded he investigate.  

He fought the tides to reach a denser cluster of boulders. He froze when he peeked behind them.  

The Legends did not do you justice. Jack had never seen anything as gorgeous as you.  

You looked every bit a goddess until he made eye contact with you. Your eyes were milky white with no pupils and to make matters worse, a row of pointed teeth was baring at him in a show of aggression.  

You were beauty and the beast, yet he wasn’t afraid.  

His eyes were drawn to the big gaping wound on your hip—or where your hip should’ve been if you were human. A mermaid tail took the place of human legs. Regardless of your anatomy, you were wounded given how you weakly clung to the jagged rocks.  

Jack slowly crouched down to inspect you further when you flicked your tail, dousing him with a powerful spray of water.  

He almost went under if he didn’t grab ahold of your tail. You yelped in pain and tried to shake the male off, but he was strong.  

He swallowed seawater in the struggle as you threatened to bash his head against the rocks. Jack fought back and pulled himself up on a flat boulder to catch his breath. “I’m tryna to help ya and ya try n’ drown me?!”  

He pointed at your abdomen. “That. Me. Help. Do you under-stand?” He acted out each word like did with the locals.  

You eyed this man warily. He was not the human you wished to lure tonight.  

You needed food to help heal yourself after swimming too close to naval ships fighting each other. Humans and their pointless wars. One of their weapons exploded too close and sent shrapnel flying into your tail.  

You couldn’t move your hips to propel yourself through the water— although you tried. The searing pain made it impossible to return home and you were already afar off to begin with.  

The island you were stranded on was inhabited by mortals who worshipped you and your ancestors, so you tried to call a believer for aid. 

None came and you were growing weaker by the minute. A wave pushed you more inland and subsequently, beached you on a low tide. The shallow pool was knee deep for a human but useless for your means of survival. It was a glorified kiddie pool and soon to be grave.  

The last human you expecting to hear your sweet song was this man. You could sense the turmoil and darkness lurking in his soul. How could he help you when he needed help himself? 

You did not wish to be bothered with him, but he was the only mortal who heard your cry for help.  

The pain was getting worse, and it took everything in you to sing at all. You lived for centuries; you refused to be bested by a torpedo and low tide.  

Jack was getting impatient awaiting a response. He assumed you didn’t understand English (he was surrounded by idiots these days), but you shocked him when you reached out and touched his arm.  

Like a bolt of lightning, he felt your words. ‘Yes mortal, I understand.’ 

Your fingers slipped away, and Jack saw how they left a tribal like marking on his pale skin. “What the.... What did you do?”  

He rubbed at the f/c lines and dots in panic. He glanced up when he heard a series of sharp clicks. Were you laughing?  

Apparently, he was wrong.  

You sacrificed your position in the shallow water to reach out and touch him and now you were too weak to submerge your gills again. He was hearing you choke.  

How did he come to that conclusion; he didn’t want to know.  

Jack acted fast and shoved your head underwater. He was expecting bubbles, a normal human reaction, but you were anything but. 

You gladly opened your mouth and sucked in precious water you needed to survive. It made for quite the provocative sight, although Jack wasn’t complaining. You were very easy on the eyes and currently nude by human standards.  

His eyes wandered down your chest where an octopus was attached. Its tentacles wrapped around you like a shawl and (for the time being) it covered your modesty. He knew he was drunk, but it still blew his mind.  

‘You are staring.’ 

Jack was startled back to the present when your pseudo voice scratched his brain. It was an odd sensation; one he was getting used to.  

“Well, you’re a f__king mermaid, yeah I’m gonna stare.” He backed off when you resurfaced with a pained grimace.  

Your skin was still touching his so you spoke again, ‘Mermaid?’ 

“Ah yeah, its uh.. what we call your kind I guess.” Jack’s hands naturally moved towards your injury to access the damage.  

It was oozing a gelatinous black substance, and it didn’t look good even by his standards. “I don’t know how to treat this. Ya know, since you ain’t human.” He added.  

You rolled your vacant eyes and looked at the stars. Jack noticed your gills moving at the base of your neck and at the tiny seashells that seemed to be embedded into your skin. You looked every bit a mermaid, straight out of a storybook.  

It still wasn’t clicking in his mind that you were real. 

You tapped his skin. ‘Just north of here there is a deeper alcove. Take me there.’ You telepathically said.  

“What?” Jack sputtered. How did you expect him to transport a wounded mermaid up the beach? His facial expression gave away to his thoughts.  

You squeezed his wrist, ‘You are capable.’ 

“And you look heavy!” He scoffed. Although he did drills like lifting heavy loads of gear, you were a mythical creature. You sent him tumbling with a mere flick of your tail and that was you wounded. He gave you a once over. How was he gonna go about this? 

The same odd clicks you made earlier escaped your throat but in a lower decibel. Jack panicked still not knowing what it meant. “What’s wrong.” 

‘Hurts.’ you closed your eyes and sighed. He had nothing to lose helping you, so he quickly made up his mind. It beat drinking the night away.  

“You said north, right? In some cave or whatever? Take a deep breath... err gulp? Whatever you do to survive.” He waited until you took on more water before picking you up bridal style.  

You weren’t prepared and wrapped your arms around his neck, ever mindful of your talon like nails. He lifted you with ease.  

Yves, your pet octopus moved a few tentacles to cover your wound as Jack navigated through the low tide in a northerly direction. He honestly didn’t know how to get to the cove you mentioned.  

He just let his feet guide him until he saw a small gap in the rock formation that looked right. Your people carved it out over a millennia ago and the humans that settled here declared it hallowed ground ever since.  

The healing water in the alcove would speed up your recovery but not fast enough. You just needed enough strength to swim home. You did not like dwelling above surface level for prolonged periods of time.  

You only emerged to hunt the sailors disrespecting your waters and to lure nonbelievers to their death.  

Interacting with a human for this long was a rarity that you did not prefer. Though this man in particular wasn’t so bad. He smelled faintly of your favorite kelp. 

You lulled in and out of consciousness as Jack struggled to carry you to the cove. He wouldn’t say it aloud, but you were heavy. Your tail made moving difficult as you couldn’t help flicking it, offsetting his balance as he walked.  

It was beautiful, you were too. Simply indescribable.  

From your dark skin tone to your curly hair tangled with seashells and fine gold thread, Jack now believed the locals when they declared you a goddess.  

A string of fresh pearls hung from the crown of your head that framed your face. He assumed you were royalty, given that a rare blue diamond hung from the knot of pearls at the center of your forehead. How it stayed fastened had to be magic.  

He had an urge to steal it if not for the two crabs clipping your hair out of your face weren’t watching him attentively.  

Precious jewels, octopus, and crabs weren’t your only abnormal accessory.  

More sea life seemed to cling to you, as if it were an honor to adorn your body. Jack tried to not freak out when he noticed the scales of your tail move as if they were alive themselves. He could even see barnacles growing at the joints of your elbows and lower tail. 

Everything about you was fascinating.  

He finally made it to the cove with you in tow. He took one step inside and shivered sensing something in the air. 

“I’m getting tired of this magic s__t.” Jack grumbled.  

He grunted as he lowered you into the water that glowed with bioluminescence fish. You chirped as you sank down, at last, fully submerged. Your hands played with the plankton coming to your aid until you noticed Jack awkwardly standing at the mouth of the cove.  

His fatigues were soaked through, and you admired him more closely now that the moon poured through the carved ceiling above. He was a model solider, all muscles and fine stature. His redeeming qualities however were surface level. Only you could see the darkness in his heart.  

And yet, you sensed a glimmer of light in him too. There was still hope for this mortal. For now. 

You curled a finger beckoning him closer. 

Now he understood the elders' warnings. With just a finger, you had him stepping into the sea. This alcove was deeper than the public beach back yonder. Jack couldn’t see the bottom and that made him wary. Was it wise to swim in a bottomless grotto with a mythical monster? 

No, nevertheless, he knew you wouldn’t drown him. You still needed him. You visibly struggled to stay afloat and Joker swam out to help you. It felt silly helping a fish to swim; it was the least he could do. 

Speaking of, he was at a loss here. Jack hesitated before asking. “What now?”  

You huffed as you floated on your back. A swarm of plankton hovered over your wound, but they wouldn’t be enough. At this rate, your recovery would take ages.  

Jack swam nearby, his hand darting out when you tipped your head back. He kept forgetting that was normal for you. You weren’t drowning. Neither you nor Jack seemed to mind that his fingers played with your hair. He loved the curly texture of it and how it defied the laws of physics. It felt dry to the touch despite being soaking wet.  

He kept the required physical contact needed to speak to him so you allowed it.  

‘Can you fish?’ you asked him. You were starving.  

Jack thought back to the many fishing trips his father dragged him along on when he was younger. ‘Bonding time with his old man.’ What good that did. He hated the man he was forced to call father.  

But you didn’t want to hear a pointless core memory of his, you wanted an answer. Jack nodded, “Yeah. I don’t got a line though.”  

Oh. You forgot humans hunted differently. He required equipment it seemed. You pouted, sounding like a rattlesnake hissing. ‘Useless.’  

Before Jack could protest, you gestured for him to cover his ears. He slapped his wet hands over them and waited.  

You used the last of your energy to lure a fish into the cove. Jack heard bits and pieces of your melody (his human ears weren’t able to pick up most of the notes) although he did feel a pull. Something primal in his brain ordered him to follow and he kicked his legs until he was practically glued to your side.  

Perhaps that was the reason you urged him to cover his ears. He was falling victim to your call. A shame he was already where he wanted to be.  

Screw patrols. He didn’t care if his Captain discharged him for abandoning his post. Swimming with an ancient mermaid was the most entertainment Jack had in months even if all this swimming was giving him a workout.  

You gave him the all clear to remove his hands. Jack did while watching a swordfish answer your call. 

It swam from the dark waters below and circled the two of you. Much to his horror, you plucked it from the water and proceeded to consume it raw.  

It was morbid and secretly hot to witness you in your element. You ate your fill with a flare of elegance and spat out the bones.  

He was captivated. You licked your lips clean once you were finished and checked under your nails for any debris. Some things were still human in nature. Your milky eyes grew heavy as sleep threatened to take hold. Jack noticed you slowly sinking into the water and got your attention by tugging your hair.  

“Someone’s sleepy. Will the big bad fish be alright on her own?” He had to get out of this cold water and return to base. He was losing feeling in his fingers.  

A violin sounding chord signaled your yawn. Your hand cupped Jack’s cheek affectionately to speak. 

‘Fret not, I will remain here. You need to get out the water.’ Yves pointed towards a forgotten trail leading out of the grotto with a slimy tentacle. ‘That leads to land.’ 

At least now he wouldn’t be left stumbling through the dark.  

Sneaking back while soaking wet was gonna be tough. His sergeant was gonna killl him should he found out. Even with all his responsibility, Jack hesitated to leave you here alone. “I’ll uhh check on ya tomorrow?  

‘Go.’ You urged. You swatted the water, creating a sizable wave to carry him back to shore. Jack stumbled to his feet after spending so much time in the water. By the time he looked back, the ocean was still, and you were nowhere in sight.  

Jack hoped he didn’t dream last night up.  

No one noticed him gone and he managed to creep back into his bunk (freshly changed of course) before morning call. The next day was done in the same monotonous schedule he kept for months now.  

Roll call, patrols, mess hall, guard change, and repeat. He begrudgingly did it all, bidding his time until the sun set. He made full usage of his breaks to visit the market in town and stock up on supplies. On his list was a first-aid kit, wool blankets, and lots of fresh fish. The fish monger raised an eyebrow but didn’t pry.  

The soldiers that invaded ahem.. protected the island were a curious lot. Jack was no different. He was planning to spend the evening with a mermaid. Jack tipped his helmet before leaving.  

If he stayed a moment longer, he would have seen the old man croak over after catching a glimpse of the mark you left on Jack’s arm.  

He stashed his purchases in the pathway near the hidden grotto before dressing down into something more lightweight. His fatigues were practical but not ideal for prolonged periods in the cove’s mineral based water.  

He was teeming with excitement to see you. Would you be feeling better? Would you like the fish he brought? Would you be happy to see him?  

“Get a hold of yourself, she’s just a fish. A big, ancient, gorgeous, deadly fish...” Jack uttered to himself as he made the dangerous trek down to the cove.  

The setting sun guided him well until he ducked into the natural cave. Inside, it was dimly lit by the walls blocking the sun until he entered the main alcove where supernatural light flourished. 

Jack didn’t know what to expect. What if something happened last night while you slept? Could someone have found you during your moment of weakness? Did you up and leave?  

A thousand questions swirled inside his head as he walked to the water’s edge.  

It was calm, too calm—now that he knew about the dangers it contained. He saw the way you ate that swordfish last night. You were confident in your strength and there was an air of ancient wisdom that shrouding you. You been around for a while. The things you had seen in your lifetime... 

“Uh hello? Y/n?” Jack called out only to snort to himself.  

The human was calling the siren. He kicked the water to create ripples, hoping that would work. Just how deep was the pool? A deep sea fish swam here so rather deep. He dipped his legs in and popped open a bottle of rum as he waited.  

He forgot that you were injured, that probably delayed your trip to the surface. He nibbled on the bread and cheese he bought from the market. He wondered how long you would stay here until you were healed. Not like he cared or anything—he just enjoyed having something to do.  

That is, if you were coming back anytime soon. “This blows.” Jack sighed.  

He shivered at a sudden cold breeze and turned to fetch the wool blanket from his bag. While his back was turned, your head rose from the water.  

You sensed his presence when he created ripples in the water but struggled to surface with your limited energy. The swordfish you caught last night helped fight against your hunger, however; you were still ravenous. You tried swimming into deeper waters to call for help but you became exhausted fairly quickly.  

This wound had you stuck in your ancestral grotto. Which was fine if this man helped you recover.  

You watched him take out a long piece of textile to wrap himself with. He must be cold, you thought curiously. He locked eyes with you and jumped back.  

“Gahh! F__k!” How long had you been watching him in silence? You really were a predator. 

All he could see was your face from the nose up. The water was calm around you, not a ripple to be found. “You scared me.” Jack panted.  

You didn’t move and he idly kicked his feet back and forth in the water. Talk about a 180 from your mood yesterday, you just stared at him. “I uh brought you fish.” He took out the packages the fish monger wrapped for him.  

That got you to come forward, yet he was quick to notice your movements were sluggish. You didn’t glide through the water like last night. Something was wrong.  

“Hey... you okay? Oh! Ohh uhh..” Jack froze when you flopped your head onto his lap. He didn’t move (as if he could, you were heavy) as your hand squeezed his calf muscles.  

Even your voice felt off. ‘Thank you.’ You preferred your fish alive, but beggars couldn’t be choosers. You appreciated the thought. You glanced up into green eyes, clicking lowly in distress. 

“I know that sound. What’s wrong, ya don’t too good. Here.” Jack unpacked a whole mackerel, (your favorite) and held it to your lips. The implication was not lost on you.  

‘Feeding a monster? Aren’t you a brave solider?’ you mocked.  

Jack didn’t let your words affect him, “Open wide.” He watched your vacant eyes roll before you unhinged your jaw, slowing off the razor-sharp teeth and an unnaturally colored tongue. He slowly lowered the fish into your mouth and let go when your teeth grazed his palm.  

He couldn’t believe he was in some secret grotto feeding a mythical being. It would make for a wild bar conversation.  

It definitely wasn’t what he signed up for when he enlisted. You plucked the spine from your mouth with a sigh. ‘Do you have any more?’ You asked.  

Jack took pity seeing your sad eyes. He knew that look too well. You were weak from hunger. “Y-Yeah.. I uh bought a lot for ya.”  

And that’s how he spent the next half hour, hand feeding you in between bites of his own bread and cheese spread.  

His twisted mind saw it as a date. Yeah, a date with a gigantic fish. Jack huffed, jolting your head resting in his lap. You whined, voicing your displeasure.  

“Sorry uhh.” It was then Jack realized he didn’t know your name.  

The locals called you Y/n sure, but you did not know the term mermaid until yesterday. He found himself wondering what your actual name was. 

‘What ails you?’ You spoke after seeing a faraway look take over his features. He fed you well and now you were content resting your head on his lap. He was warm unlike the harsh coldness of the sea. You… kinda liked it.  

“I had a moment, I guess. I uhh.. I don’t know your name.” He confessed. It donned on you that you didn’t know his either.  

You tried avoiding the question with one of your own. ‘What do other humans call you?’ 

“Oh, now ya wanna know my name?” Jack laughed. All this time the two of you had yet to exchange formalities.  

He felt so embarrassed. His mama raised him better! You were a lady and deserved some respect. Jack straightened up while clearing his throat.  

“Private Jack White reportin’ for duty.” He fake saluted and laughed at your confused head tilt. He’d explain later. “The locals call you Y/n, the revered sea deity, but what should I call ya oh great one?” 

You rose to grab Jack’s face and pull him down so you could rub your nose with his. You spoke your given name into his head and watched him try out the pronunciation. 

“Did I say that right?” Jack teased.  

‘No. Humans do not have enough vocal cords. You are unable to replicate the vowels.’  

Another thing that separated you from him. Now he was told his speech was too primitive. “Whatever, it sounds hot in my head. Y/n it is then.”  

He assumed rubbing noses was your people's version of a kiss, so he repeated the gesture back. He chuckled when you jerked back with a shrill like chirp. Your tail flicked up from the water, hitting him with ice cold droplets. “So cute..” he mumbled.  

Although the temperature drop was his signal to go. “It's getting late. You gonna be alright by yourself again?”  

You refused to touch him to speak after he caressed your nose.  

“Aww, did I make the Great Y/n all flustered?” He dodged you trying to claw at his ankles. “I think sooo. Get some rest, Y/n.” 

You regained enough energy to send him off with a farewell melody. He was still humming the tune to himself when he reached his barracks.  

Jack cherished the days he spent visiting you in the alcove.  

Some of his fellow soldiers poked fun at his sudden change in mood. “Oh, Jack caught the eye of a local!” They weren’t wrong.  

He was more friendlier on base all thanks to you. He looked forward to the nights spent with you; feeding you fish, sharing stories, and slowly but surely getting to know one another.  

It was inspiring to remember how you had originally feared Jack when he found you beached in the low tide. Now you practically dragged him under to be near him.  

“Easy, Y/n. Don’t drown me!” He let you pull him into the dark water to nuzzle his nose in greeting. He still didn’t know what the gesture meant but it made you happy.  

He loved hearing the purring sound of your delight. He did anything he could to hear it.  

He promised to spot your attempt to swim outside the grotto tonight. The line of rocks was an obstacle he could help you overcome. Your wound was steadily healing with the plethora of fatty fish Jack provided along with the kind plankton who blessed you. Neither of you wanted you to fully heal.  

The moment you were healthy meant you would leave, and Jack was growing rather fond of you. He unfortunately did not know how you felt about him.  

He would be a fool to believe you actually enjoyed a human’s company. He was prey, not a companion. You had Yves for that and Jack envied the sentient octopus that clung to your bosom.  

He tried to shake off his feelings to no avail.  

You were otherworldly in terms of beauty and keenly aware of your charms. Even if the match was virtually impossible, he liked where things were going with you. He would cherish each day he had left.  

“Good job, now... come here.” Jack said to urge you back.  

This was your fourth time swimming laps from the ocean entrance of the alcove back to his arms. He could tell you were pushing yourself, judging by your hooded eyelids and agitated tail swishes.  

It was exercise to promote core strength back to your tail.  

You made it back to Jack and collided with him due to your exhaustion. He fell onto shore with you in his arms. “H-Hey, Y/n, you good?”  

The massive blue diamond on your forehead swayed as you nodded. Jack was speechless watching a beam of moonlight overhead highlight your beauty. Your lips parted and he was reminded how close the two of you were when it brushed his lower lip.  

This was wrong. You weren’t even human! but that didn’t stop Jack. He audibly swallowed as the moment drew tense.  

“F__k it.” He shortened the distance and captured your lips with his. You bristled at the contact until Jack tangled a hand in your hair and guided you through the motions.  

He rolled you over so the incoming wave could rehydrate your gills. He on the other hand needed air and pulled away with a smile. “Even better than I imagined.” Jack said listlessly.  

‘What.. what was that?’ You asked him. You brought a finger up to inspect your lips. They were tingling.  

“I ah.. that was a kiss. Kinda like how you rub my nose. That’s um.. it’s the equivalent of that for humans.” He explained.  

‘I don’t understand. You respect me enough to kiss me?’ 

“Wait what?” Jack was confused now. “What does,” he leaned down to nuzzle his nose with yours, “this mean?” 

‘You value or you respect me greatly. It is the highest form of gratitude for my kind.’ You confessed. Your eyes shifted away as your ears turned red.  

Oh. Not what he was expecting but still rather important. You were showing your gratitude, and he thought… 

Jack brushed a curl away from your face, “So… does your kind kiss like we just did?” 

He burst out laughing at you covering your face. Jack could tell you wanted to slip underwater in embarrassment. He wouldn’t let you.  

He pried your hands away so he could see you. “Cmon Y/n!” 

You were about to show him when a loud alarm sounded over the island. You growled and without hesitation, dragged you and Jack into the safety of the ocean. He quickly broke the surface to breathe.  

“Y/n! F__k, warn me next time! S__t, we might be under attack.” He tried to swim away to leave, but your nails dug into his wrist. “Y/n let go.”  

Then the first canon echoed off in the distance. You cried out, gaining Jack’s attention. He never seen you look so terrified.  

He snatched you up into his arms, tucking your head into his chest. “They won’t hurt you again. I promise.” He leaned back just enough to kiss you softly. “Stay outta sight, I’ll be back.”  

‘Jack…’  

If gunfire was heard this far away, you could only imagine the reality of it on land. You didn’t want him to go.  

“I’ll be back. Yeah?” He caressed your face as he drifted closer to the shore. You still didn’t let go so he got desperate.  

He locked eyes with Yves on your shoulder. “Take care of my girl.” He glanced at you again, “I’ll be back Y/n.” He wrestled himself out of your arms and swam to the grotto shore.  

There was little time to grab his things. Gunfire meant contact with the enemy. He needed to find a weapon and report to his sergeant for orders. 

Yet Jack hesitated.  

He looked back towards the ocean and saw your head poking out. You were centuries old but terrified of man and their weapons. It made him sick to his stomach.  

He didn’t know if mermaids could cry although you looked close to tears.  

Jack groaned as he took off his dog tags and wrapped them around your neck. You were about to ask him what it was when he stole your train of thought with a passionate kiss.  

It felt like a goodbye.  

Jack pulled away, resting his forehead on yours. “Wait for me, hm?” 

You nodded once and watched him disappear up the trail. The small glimmer of light you saw in Jack faded away as he left. You knew he wouldn’t return but you still blindly waited.  

You waited all night for the fighting to cease. You waited till the morning after when more ships arrived and departed in droves. You waited even as the waters changed warmth with the new season. You waited and waited and waited until it was obvious.  

Jack was gone.  

Years passed and he was a changed man.  

He’d seen enough war and the pointlessness it created to rebel from authority. It changed him and not for the better. You would not be pleased with the hatred festering in his heart, not like he cared.  

He didn’t care about anything.  

He saw the world with new eyes— he wasn’t the restless private stuck on an island anymore. Oh, but he missed those days terribly. His wrist itched every full moon, reminding him of a time he felt free. 

Free to be himself and to be understood by another. You were the only person who willingly listened to his ramblings. You didn’t interrupt or belittle his opinions, you let him speak freely and encouraged him to be open minded. He looked back on those months fondly.  

But that was the past. Now he wanted to destroy the future.  

“Ay Boss. Boss..? Yo J!” Frost had enough and yelled out to Joker.  

He almost didn’t respond. Joker. He went by The Joker now not..  

“There’s nothing here, Joker and it’s getting dark soon.” Frost kicked a nearby rock into the water. “We’re ready to leave when you are.” 

Joker nodded and returned his gaze out to the sea.  

He felt stupid coming all the way here after so many years away. The military base was now a museum, and the locals had been completely overrun by tourism from the growing resort industry nearby.  

Things were vastly different, but your grotto remained untouched.  

It was still tucked away on the northern shoreline with jagged rocks making it impossible to boat to. Mankind could not reach you and Joker preferred it that way.  

Years later, he still slipped a bit descending down the hidden trail. Was it always so dangerous or did love motivate him forward? He lost that feeling ages ago so a few scrapped knees and hands was the price to pay.  

What did he expect to find? You patiently waiting in the water, flicking your tail in anticipation? He hated himself for believing that you would.  

Frost was right. There was nothing here.  

He had to stop dwelling on the past. Promises were made to be broken. Joker had moved on and deep down, he hoped that you did the same.  

He sighed as he stood up to leave (for good this time) when he heard something. He froze, thinking he was finally losing his mind but no. It was faint, but it was heard loudly in his heart.  

Jack heard your call.  

[i2rizz]

Atlanta Lock AU Pt.2

Fandom:Blue lock

Characters: Atlanta lock!Sae x reader

Summary:Sae's Atlanta Lock persona is all about being a cold, unbothered influencer...

until he gets shadowbanned on Instagram.

------------‐---------------------------------------

Sae Itoshi had it all—he was the king of O'Block, the guy everyone feared, and the one that all the influencers wanted to be associated with. He had the followers, the clout, and the absolute dominance of his gang. His Instagram was a testament to his coolness—luxury cars, expensive watches, and gym selfies that made it seem like he didn’t break a sweat.

But today… everything changed.

It all started with one notification:

"Your account has been temporarily suspended."

Sae’s first reaction? Denial. He stared at his phone for a solid minute, convinced it was a glitch. When he clicked the "appeal" button and nothing changed, panic started to creep in.

“Hey, [Y/N],” Sae said, his voice a little too calm for someone about to lose his mind. You looked up from your phone, sensing the shift in his mood.

“Yeah?”

“I’m gonna need you to fix something,” he said, his eyes locked on his screen, fingers tapping rapidly on his phone.

You raised an eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”

“I… I got shadowbanned.”

You blinked. “You what?”

“Shadowbanned!” Sae repeated like it was the end of the world. “Do you even understand how much that hurts my image? This is a catastrophe!”

You snorted. “Sae, you’re in a gang. Who cares about Instagram?”

“I CARE, [Y/N],” he hissed, standing up dramatically. “Do you know how much clout I’ve lost in just ten minutes? All my sponsors are gonna drop me! My followers are gonna think I’m a joke!”

You rolled your eyes. “Okay, okay. So what do you want me to do about it?”

His response was immediate: “We need to take this to the streets. I need to remind the world who I am. The real Sae Itoshi. I want O'Block to see me."

You stared at him. “What?”

“I’ll prove I’m still the hottest thing on Instagram… but I need something big.” He pointed to the street outside, his eyes glowing with that manic energy you recognized all too well. “I’m gonna host an impromptu street race. Right here. Tonight.”

And that’s how, in the middle of O'Block, Sae’s entire gang—along with half of the other street racers—ended up on the makeshift racecourse. The streets were packed with heavily modified cars, bikes, and a sea of people who seemed to materialize from nowhere. It felt like a crazy carnival of chaos.

You stood at the side, arms crossed, watching as Sae leaned against his blacked-out sports car, his custom-designed “Sae Itoshi” logo glowing on the hood. He was wearing a designer jacket, sunglasses, and an expression of complete confidence. You couldn’t help but laugh.

“You sure about this?” you asked, hands on your hips.

He looked at you with a smirk. “I’m Sae Itoshi. Of course I’m sure. I’ll get my followers back in one race.”

You just shook your head, thinking, This man is something else.

As the race started, Sae’s car roared to life, tearing down the street with a roar of fury. But instead of the usual focus he would have in a street race, tonight he was treating it like a show. His every move—every drift, every acceleration—was perfectly timed for the Instagram live feed.

“Look at this!” Sae shouted into his phone, clearly attempting to hype himself up for the nonexistent audience. “This is Sae Itoshi, the fastest, the best, the ONLY one who can rule O'Block! If you’re not watching this, what are you doing with your life?”

You stood off to the side, arms crossed and watching him do his thing, shaking your head. The race itself wasn’t important to him—this was all about flexing. The Instagram live stream was his way of clawing back his “status” after the shadowban incident.

Then, as expected, Sae made a sharp turn, hitting the perfect drift while flipping the camera to his face for a second. “Y’all see this?” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smile. “Sae Itoshi doesn’t lose.”

Of course, it didn’t go smoothly. As he rounded a corner too quickly, his car skidded, sending a cloud of dust into the air. Sae’s calm expression faltered for a brief moment, but he quickly regained his cool and flipped the camera back on his face, waving off the mistake like it never happened.

“You see that?” he said, his voice dripping with confidence. “That’s called making the competition think you’re weak, and then showing them just how good you are. Psychological warfare.”

But his gang wasn’t buying it. They could see his nerves creeping in despite his cocky exterior. And when one of his rivals sped ahead of him, Sae’s smirk quickly turned into a grimace.

“Yo, yo—who do they think they are?” he muttered, slamming the wheel harder. “This race isn’t even about winning anymore. It’s about showing them I’m still the king!”

You shouted to him as he raced desperately to catch up. “Sae, relax. You don’t need to prove anything.”

“Shut up, [Y/N],” he muttered, still zooming past intersections. “I need to remind them I’m the best.”

At the very last moment, as they neared the finish line, Sae surged ahead, his car speeding like it had a life of its own. He won by a hair.

Sae skidded to a stop, immediately pulling out his phone to check the live stream. The crowd was cheering, but his attention was entirely on the screen, anxiously refreshing the page.

When the notification finally popped up, he let out a breath of relief. “There it is. The likes. The views. The comments.” He started scrolling through them, a satisfied smirk forming. “Told you. I always win.”

You rolled your eyes, crossing your arms. “Maybe next time, you’ll race for the fun of it, not for Instagram clout.”

He shot you a playful smile. “Nah, where’s the fun in that?”

And, just like that, Sae Itoshi once again proved that even when things go completely off the rails, he always finds a way to get the last word.

------------‐---------------------------------------

Idk man im not feeling this post since idk if i captured his atlanta lock personality🫠

[freedomfireflies]

Harry in Your Highlight Reel

Thought I'd try my hand at this trend (trope? style?)! No idea if I'm doing it right, but he's cute so...it doesn't matter

July 17, 2019

The day we thought we'd give the zoo a try. He was convinced the orangutan was staring at him.

It was not.

He was also convinced that it wanted to crawl through the bars and start combing through his hair to eat it.

He then spent the rest of the day asking me if his hair looked "edible," and I spent the rest of the day wishing the orangutan had eaten me instead.

August 03, 2021

"Let's go out to dinner!" he said. "It'll be fun!" he said.

Last time I let this beautiful, British bastard convince to do anything, I swear to God.

First of all, we got a flat tire on the way to the restaurant. And then realized very quickly that neither one of us actually knew how to change a tire.

So, we took an Uber (even though he has enough money to just...buy a brand new car, but whatever), and it smelled like pickles. So...you know, great start.

The restaurant was packed, and apparently it was bring your horny ass to dinner and stare at my boyfriend night. You know, just another great perk. I believe we got a solid five seconds where someone wasn't trying to sit on his lap.

The couple next to us was in the middle of breaking up, and honestly...it was kind of fun to listen to. We made bets, which was terrible of us, but long story short, Harry owes me 10 bucks.

They got our order wrong, which wasn't a big deal except for the fact that Harry has an "allergy" to tomatoes (he just doesn't like them, and always ends up shoving them onto my plate) (which he did) (and I loved them)

Then, we went to the bar to get a drink before we left and he choked on an olive.

So...overall, just an average date night for us.

10/10 will probably let him convince me to do it again and I hate myself for it.

September 29, 2022

Found this throwback in my camera roll the other day, and sent it to Harry while he was in a meeting. Made a joke about wanting to sit on his lap and bite all over his thighs (as one does, of course), and then asked what the fuck was up with his toes. Mostly just to make him squirm during his appointment.

Uh, turns out I didn't send it to Harry.

I sent it to Anne.

And because she's Anne, she completely ignored what I said and made some comment about how little he was, how precious, and how he's all grown up.

Anyway, long story short, I won't be going home for Christmas this year, and will immediately be throwing myself under a car (shoutout to my hero, Mr. Jason Sudeikis, love ya buddy)

Please keep me in your thoughts and prayers.

June 04, 2020

He's gonna look so sexy in adult diapers 😍😍😍

March 11, 2023

Maybe she's born with it, maybe it's Maybelline 🥰

No, but why was his hair so flowy? Fuck Prince Eric, this is Ariel. Or Ariel's daughter, from the second one. Oh, he'd crush that. Hold up, lemme call his agent

Edit: After showing this to Harry, he has demanded I retract my statement and amend it to clarify that he feels like more of a Belle type? And then suggested I play The Beast, so...he'll be sleeping on the couch for the next few weeks.

Please keep him in your thoughts and prayers.

[sterekchub]

Okay but what about more frat boy Derek? Going from playboy to chubby hunk, to fat slob, to blimp fucktoy? Give me more I say! ;)

oooh okay what about a "Monster's University" AU? With an all supernatural campus?

The wolves always dominate, because they're "common" supernatural species and with their powers- are easily all the top starts of the sports teams. Plus the 'can't catch or give STDs', knotting abilities, stamina and….general tendencies for looking like runway models- it's pretty obviously a werewolf's ego trip.

Derek's heard his entire life how Peter loved is 4 years, pats his beergut fondly and talks about the pranks and legendary frat parties (as Chris shakes his head and grumbles about the bad habits Peter picked up in college - and is surprised Peter can remember anything that happened across those 4 years).

(And not to do Derek dirty - but without Kate and the fire and everything? Derek (and Peter) give me the 'superior to human' vibes. He spend 4 years of high school having to act like he couldn't have won every basketball match he scored. Or having to pretend he was getting a call in the middle of hooking up because he had started to wolf out)

So there's no other option - he's going Monsters University.

And literally becomes the big man on campus with all the attention he's getting. His first semester? Everyone wants to sleep with him. He gets good grades and teachers love him. Makes the football team and is immediately picked into his frat.

All that goes STRAIGHT to his head - and he starts showing off. His party trick becomes sticking a beer funnel in his mouth as drunk party-goers pour beer after beer down it. Shouts 'bet I can eat all this pizza' to more drunk cheers.

By the end of the second semester, Derek's got a solid start of a potbelly and his grades drop because he spends more time with his stomach pressed against someone's back, fucking them against the frat's kitchen table….or on his back, belching and grunting and trying to ease the fullness of his beer-ballooned middle.

When people stop getting interested in his "I can swell myself up with beer until my gut is sloshing like a beer vat" he starts pushing it further. Brags about being the human food dump- he'll eat anything! He can eat as much as anyone wants just to prove a point!

In truth? Most people can't stand him. Too cocky, too much of an ego, even for a werewolf….his fellow frat brothers are annoyed and jealous, and rival frats just want to know not ALL werewolves are perfect and unbreakable. So if they see the chance to goad Derek into loading himself with protein shakes until his gas clears the room? Or getting him to guzzle straight butter and lard just to show he can? They cheer him on like they're his biggest fans. Because they all love the results.

The opinions change from "I got fucked by Derek Hale" to "Derek Hale is so desperate for dick anyone can fuck that greedy pig". Most his regular hook ups lose interest when Derek packed on the Freshman 50…and then the Summer 60. And the Sophomore 70. Not the most attractive to most to have Derek belching in their mouth when he kisses them. Or to have Derek on all fours on the bed, stomach so packed tight with junk food, he's more a gas machine than anything else.

Or Derek is plainly too stuffed to do any of the work- expects someone will get him off, but he's too full to return the favor. So the only ones who are interested are the ones with a serious kink - or the ones who love taunting Derek about it.

Th first werepig they've had on campus.

(And I have a special place in my heart for slob!Derek. Shovels garbage junk food and beers down his throat like it's his job, and his stomach angrily rumbles and sloshes and makes Derek a gas balloon that no one wants to share a dorm room with. Most of his clothes don't fit - so Derek pulls on the same stretched out college sweatpants and T-shirt day after day. The sweatpants are stretched so tightly, every thigh roll is visible, and his T-shirt starts off the day several inches too short- and with each meal rides further and further up his gut. Derek filling himself with supernatural levels of food until he's huffing and puffing and sweating from the exertion over it. Has to eat himself to an orgasm because he can't reach his dick - paints his fatpad and lower gut with come and then waddles off to a party. Starts getting too wide for the dorm showers so his frat brothers hose him off when he starts reeking like BO and beer and pizza grease)

[pleasantglitterflower]

Brazilian holidays (Joe Burrow x Adriana Lima)

JOE’S POV

- Baby, have you finished packing your bags? - Adriana asks me

- Yes, my dear, I've already finished and separated all the special kit you sent 

- You're not forgetting any warm clothes, sunscreen and new beach underwear, right?

- Everything is ready, general - I saluted, she rolled her eyes and gave me a peck.

   We are going on vacation in Brazil, more specifically in Salvador, located in the northeast region of the country, and it is my wonderful girlfriend's hometown. Yes, I'm dating the glamorous angel Adriana Lima.

 Adriana and I met during a photo shoot for a magazine. When my agent arrived with the rehearsal proposal, at first I didn't want to do it at all, because I'm very shy and I've never been a fan of these media commitments, for me what matters is just football, but my agent justified that I'm one of the most popular NFL players today and that my image attracts a lot of interest from the media and fans, and that it would be good for my personal marketing, after a lot of convincing I decided to accept. When I arrived at the studio and saw that I would be taking photos with Adriana, my heart started to race quickly, and at that moment I put myself in the shoes of the girls who are my fans and who freak out when they see me in person. I've had a crush on Adriana since I was a hairless virgin boy, I watched all the Victoria Secret fashion shows just to appreciate her beauty and I made my mother buy every magazine she was on the cover of, and I've lost count of How many times have I masturbated thinking about her, damn, who can resist those blue-green eyes, that full mouth, that tanned and curvy body?

 The chemistry between Adriana and I was instantaneous, which was reflected in our rehearsal, I'm glad I changed my mind, it was wonderful. After the photos were finished, we started talking and I asked for her phone number and invited her on a date, I knew she had recently separated. Our first date was perfect, we were very transparent with each other about our past and it was wonderful to know more deeply about the woman I longed for so much during my childhood and adolescence, the weather was very favorable for us and our first kiss took place there really, and from then on, we started a relationship that has lasted six months, and up until now we have managed to hide it from the media very well, we are very reserved and because Adriana has been in the middle of this media exposure for many years, she gives me a lot of advice about how do I deal with this, since now I'm America's sweetheart, damn I hate it, I just want to play football, why can't they just appreciate my sporting skills instead of just looking at my physical appearance?

We're taking advantage of the fact that I'm in the off-season and we're going to visit her family and also get to know the city, as Adriana assured me that after I get to know Salvador in depth, I won't see anything like it. In fact, Brazil is not completely strange to me, Adriana is not the only Brazilian woman who has passed through my life.

 My long relationship with my ex-wife Anna Rodrigues, currently the best football player in the world, is public knowledge. We met in high school and built a solid relationship, which later evolved into marriage and gave birth to our boys Joshua and Samuel. Anna and I faced this great media exposure, as we were the most powerful couple in the sport, with me scoring touchdowns and her scoring goals ,whenever I went to one of her games or she went to one of mine, the media created a whole circus, since She was responsible for leading the Brazilian team to win the World Cup, the harassment towards her increased fiercely, something she loved, but at the same time it bothered me, not because she was achieving her dreams, but because she started to change of personality and was no longer that kind girl I met when I was 16, Anna began to become arrogant, self-centered and began to humiliate me, making a point of highlighting that I was a failure for having suffered many injuries throughout my career in NFL and that the chance I had to win the Superbowl, I wasted it.

The situation became untenable and I decided to ask for a divorce, she didn't accept it at all, I had to go to court to ask for a dispute as she refused to sign the papers. All I wanted is for us to continue maintaining cordiality for the sake of our children, they need their parents to have a healthy relationship, but if it's up to Anna, she won't rest until she sees me in shit.

We only spoke through our lawyers and, as we have joint custody, it is my parents who pick up the boys to come to my house and take them back to Anna's house.

Unlike Adriana, who gets along very well with the parents of her three children, I need to beg Anna for crumbs, if it were up to her, I would never see the boys again. In fact, she doesn't even know that I'm dating Adriana, when she finds out, I already know that she's going to make a huge scandal, but I don't want to think about that now, I'm focused on enjoying this trip with my girlfriend. As I said before, I've already been to Brazil, but I only know Rio de Janeiro and São Paulo, but I'm going to visit a completely different city and I'm really excited, especially because we're going there during carnival time, damn I'm really excited, I feel like After this trip I will not be the same person.

After more than 15 hours of traveling, with several stops, we finally arrived in Salvador, state of Bahia, Brazil. We were greeted at the airport by Carlos, Adriana's cousin and he was very friendly to me, giving me a handshake and a big hug, I confess that I'm still not used to these greetings from Brazilians like kisses and hugs. We drove to Adriana's family's house, and when we got there, I was surprised by a banner saying “Welcome Joe” and a table with a large banquet. I was emotional, I didn't even know them well yet and they were already treating me like an integral part of the family. I hugged all of her family members and then we went to dinner, I was lost with the variety of foods and was willing to try everything, the Bengals' nutritionist is going to go crazy when I get back.  The first dish I ate was some kind of fish soup.

- This food is called moqueca Joe! - Adriana tells me

- Hmmmm-damn, what delicious food, I put a larger amount on my plate

- Moqueca is a recipe with African and indigenous origins, it contains fish, onions, tomatoes, peppers and can only be prepared in a clay pot. - Graça, my mother-in-law explains

- It's very delicious - I respond with my mouth full

- Joe, my love, take it easy, Bahian food is made with many exotic ingredients and strong seasonings that you are not used to, soon you will end up feeling sick - Adriana warns me

- Love, it's not every day that I have the chance to get off the diet and allow myself to eat different foods. And when I come to Brazil, I eat everything I'm entitled to, I don't care about my eating plan.

- Joe try the acarajé now, you'll love it - Adriana's mother says 

- How do you say?

- ACARAJÉ

- A..ca.ra.. jeeee- I try to speak

- Your boyfriend is very cute Drica - one of the model's cousins ​​comments enchanted 

I look at the cupcake in front of me and start to taste it, quickly my mouth starts to burn and I grab the juice on the table and start drinking it.

- Sorry, I forgot to mention that there is pepper in acarajé - Adriana laments

- No problem, my love - I smile, still feeling the strong taste of pepper in my mouth

    - Adriana, you can't forget to take Joe to see Oludum's presentation.

- I know mom, I've already organized the list of places I'm going to take him to see, we're only going to stay here for five days so he has to take the opportunity to see as much of the city as possible

- Olodum? What is this Adri?

- It's a drum school, the band is practically a symbol of Salvador, you'll love seeing them

- Will they also be at carnival? - I ask

- They always are, but when we go to shows we will see other singers perform

The next day, the first day of Joe's tour of Salvador began, with Adriana explaining the history of each place and the quarterback just had to open his eyes, he was enchanted by the rich culture of the place.

- We are in the Historic Center of Salvador, this is Pelourinho, without a doubt it is my place of refuge in the city, I walk around here for hours. Look at this architecture Joe, it's so beautiful and full of personality, there's so much cool history here, that Pelourinho has been named a World Heritage Site by UNESCO.

- I can't stop looking at this colorful Dri, it's really beautiful - the man is very enchanted with the place.

During their walk through Pelourinho, Adriana showed Joe the exact house in which Michael Jackson recorded the music video for the song “They don’t care about us”, in 1996, the same year Joe was born. Adriana, who was 15 years old at the time and was starting her modeling career, says that the city stopped when the king of pop arrived and that she felt an inexplicable emotion in seeing Michael up close, because at that time, it was very difficult for big artists to global reach to go to other Brazilian cities that were not Rio de Janeiro or São Paulo.

The couple had the chance to see a live performance of Olodum, directly from Pelourinho. Joe didn't stop filming and taking photos, it was something totally different from what he had seen before. Olodum is much more than a musical drum group, it is also an act of resistance, developing actions to combat racial discrimination, stimulating the self-esteem and pride of Afro-Brazilians, defending and fighting to ensure civil and human rights of marginalized people, in Bahia and Brazil.

The couple also went to visit Farol da Barra, the first nautical signaling system to come into operation in the Americas and it is the oldest lighthouse on the continent still operating, it was a day of great learning and unforgettable for Joe, who was sharing this special moment with his loved one.

ADRIANA’S POV

  These vacation days with my love in my city have been perfect, I can barely describe the feeling. I was very insecure when Joe asked me to be his girlfriend, because he, who is one of the current American football players, wanted to date a woman fifteen years older, divorced, with three children, and who no longer has the beauty of my 20s. I continue to do my fashion shows and campaigns with brands that I have a contract with, however it is sad to see that the fashion industry nowadays prefers these Instagram models, who have no idea what a catwalk is, and nepobabies than the girls who work hard to have an opportunity. I've reached a level in my career where I can choose the work I want to do, and for a few years now I no longer want to do campaigns with futile messages, I want to feel like a real-life woman, who has my imperfections, my happy and vulnerable days. , and not be held hostage to an unrealistic beauty standard. Truly, the golden age of fashion is over, models like me, Gisele Bündchen, Naomi Campbell, Alessandra Ambrosio, Heidi Klum and other wonderful women will no longer exist.

  Joe and I are going to an electric trio today and I'm going to show him what Bahia's carnival is like. In most of Brazil, carnival starts in February, but here in Bahia, carnival is year-round, there is no time here to not celebrate, it's a party all year round. I'm proud of my roots, and with all due respect to other countries, but there's nothing better than being Brazilian, here is a great diversity of cultures and ideas, which no other place in the world has, I can say this as someone who spent almost his whole life traveling all over the world.

Joe and I arrived in the early afternoon at the trio electric box, we were going to see shows by great local artists from Bahia, including my friend Ivete Sangalo.

It would be the first time that Joe and I would make our first public appearance as a couple, both he and I were comfortable with it, at some point we would have to come out. Ivete's show started until she saw me and Joe hugging and commented:

- Wow, my friend Dridrica is very well accompanied by her prince, let's shout a lot guys - the whole crowd shouts

- Come on Drica, you come too, young man - I quickly translate what she's saying to Joe and we head towards the audience, who shout fiercely when they see us 

We stayed there on the stage dancing while Ivete sang, until she started singing along with the audience so that we could kiss right there. Even though Joe didn't understand Portuguese very well, he understood the context and grabbed my face and we kissed right there, to the delight of Veveta and the public, our relationship was no longer a secret, and honestly I don't care about other people's opinions, the What matters is that we are in love and want to live intensely, and to be living this moment with this Brazilian energy, there is nothing better.

[snek-panini]

Books! The ongoing project I've had half-finished since March continues to thwart me, so I want to show off a project from May that turned out incredibly well. I'm extremely proud of these!

Ta-da! Look at my creations! Are they not beautiful?? This is a set of two related works, From the Deep and Into the Deep. They are by the same author, @worse0mens, and they share a lot of worldbuilding but are not a series and can be read independently. They are siren AUs with very solid characterization, both for everyone's favorite main characters (three guesses who I mean; this is a Good Omens work) and for the secondaries as well (Eve in Into the Deep is a particular favorite for me). The worldbuilding is another star; I would read non-fanwork originals in this universe and that's not something I usually say.

More photos and process talk under the cut! I had to make a lot of adjustments to the design while it was a work in progress, so this post got even longer than usual.

Since these are so closely related even without being a series I really wanted to make them look like a set, and I honestly think I nailed that. I found the pale blue scale-patterned paper on ChibiJay before I even started the typeset and knew it would be perfect if I could match it in black, given that those colors are so heavily associated with our two viewpoint characters. The original plan was to have one in all blue and one in all black, but that blue paper was kind of a nightmare for color-matching. It clashed horribly with the blue book cloth, so I switched that to the black book, and then it also clashed with the black cloth I had chosen. So it got charcoal in the end, and it ended up coming together quite well. The titles are HTV, first time using that on cloth, and that also did not go well. It very much did not want to stick, took more than twice as long as it should have to press, and I still ended up with some wrinkling. Further experiments are needed, I think. It was worth it in the end, though--colors and fonts are perfect, and I like the vertical orientation even more than I thought I would.

Endpapers are solid brown on both books. Another nightmare of color matching. Black is easy! Everything looks good! But that blue was really stubborn about what I could match it to, and this was the only paper that I could find that looked good with both. It's ludicrously thick and was hard to trim even with my plow. Endbands and bookmark are solid black and solid blue respectively, the only easy match in the entire project. Even then, I had originally wanted a gold bookmark on both, to match the gold lines on the covers, but I couldn't find one that was thin enough. Everything in the right colors was wider than the spines. I was very glad to find that blue ribbon, and it was an exact match for some endbands I got ages ago as part of a variety pack. Stroke of luck, there.

Interiors. As I said above, I wanted them to look like a set, so the same fonts, sizing, and text ornaments are used throughout both copies. All the images came from rawpixel, all I did was resize them and I think adjust the color. I was originally planning a much simpler look for these, and the typeset reflects that sort of stripped-down look; there are fewer text ornaments than I normally use, and the title fonts are less curly and ornate than my usual. The plain endpapers were also chosen with that thought in mind, but the covers turned out way more ornate than I thought when I first pictured them in my head. I don't think the insides match the outsides terribly well, but both came out so nicely that I don't mind. I could never regret those covers, they are too gorgeous for that.

Top view on both books. I had some issues with the boards warping on this project, which you can see in the first two pictures. The one on the left is how it looks normally, and you can see that the boards curve away from the text block in the middle, leaving a gap. If you squeeze the book (middle image) this gap goes away. It's present in both books, though more visible on the blue one. I think I made an error with the grain direction, possibly in the endpapers. Or the very heavy endpapers just have more pull to them than the much lighter chiyogami on the outside, and it can't compensate. Hopefully it won't lead to any structural issues further down the line. It's just less than ideal, is all.

I've toyed with the idea of making a slipcase for these. They're already a set, but they could be a BOXED set. Very fancy. I've never done boxes before though, so I'm a bit intimidated. I may revisit them someday to do that.

[satancopilotsmytardis]

22. "Show me how much you need me" and a kink huh..... Maybe...begging? or choking? Idk have some fun!

(I'm still in the process of writing my comments for network btw it was just to good and I've fallen in love with it, so thankyou for writing it and sorry the comment is taking so long!)

Pairing: Shigadabi

Rating: E

Contents: Catboy!Dabi, mating cycle/heat, begging, implied marathon sex, sex toys, multiple orgasms, petplay, feminization

Dabi's life is a joke. Some sick, cruel god thought it would be funny to make a creature that wasn't made to survive and then Dabi spent every second fighting against that asshole's will to make it anyway. And it always sucked. Want a great quirk, kid? Too bad, burn on a mountain. Oh, you survived that? Replaced and homeless. Huh, you're still alive, and you've managed to get a good thing going with a little found family of criminals? Oops, you're a cat now. 

Because yeah, in the middle of the skirmish in Deika, Dabi had gotten blasted by a wayward quirk during his fight with Geten. And he's a cat now. Or more accurately, he's a heteromorph now. He was lucky he didn't get a big lungful of the gas because it would have turned him entirely into a cat if he had. What's less lucky is that the retractable claws, slitted pupils, fangs, tail, and extra ears are permanent now. Should have worn off after a couple of hours, but according to Ujiko, due to the skin grafts and treatments he received in his coma, you know, when he'd been considering turning him into a nomu, his body was more susceptible to changes like this. Which was the doc's nice way of saying he'd fucked around with Dabi's DNA and made his cells ready to receive some new code, but he'd escaped the hospital before that happened and this quirk had gone and filled in the blanks. And without extensive gene therapy that would take months, if not years and may prove fatal, Dabi was stuck like this. He's a cat now. Fuck his life. 

That's not to say being a cat is all bad. He definitely hadn't wanted to be a cat. But the inhanced senses are nice, and holy fuck does fish taste better now, plus getting pet is awesome-- even if Tomura is the only one he lets do it because it makes him purr like an idiot. Of the curveballs he's been thrown in life, this one has been one of the least horrendous, so he sucks it up and moves on with his life. And everything is pretty normal for the most part. They get things resituated with the PLF, he adjusts, and things are actually better for the League than they have been, possibly ever.

Until he starts waking up at night with the others pounding on his door telling him to shut up. Actually, they had been nice about it the first couple of times, asking if he was hurt or having nightmares or something, but he hadn't known what the fuck they were talking about. Absolutely thought they were gaslighting him as some kind of prank before Toga showed a recording of his door, and the awful loud feline yowls that had been coming out from the room, cutting out only after she pounded on it to wake him up. He has no idea why he's been, apparently, screaming in his sleep. He hasn't even had all that many nightmares lately, certainly not often enough to account for a solid week of screaming. 

He also starts to have the urge to rub his cheeks against things. His phone, his pack of cigs, the pillows in his and Duster's bedroom, the rest of the League. Keeps getting distracted and nuzzling against them, which they're being better sports about than the yowling thing. Even if he does hiss at them when they try to pet him while he's doing it. Usually snaps out of it at that point and excuses himself to be mortified elsewhere. He also keeps finding himself outside. Just walking. Keeps catching himself trying to scent the air like he's looking for something, and it doesn't do him any good. He can't find what he's looking for and he ends up back in the villa incredibly cranky and angry that he's going back to an empty bed. And then the cycle starts again. It's so bad and strange, that when Duster is finally finished with his latest round of treatments, Dabi goes to the doctor's lab to pick him up, just so he can see him as soon as possible. 

He gets there and finds Ujiko in the tank room with their new batch of High Ends, his lover out of sight. "Ah, he's sleeping off the sedation from his last treatment. Once he wakes you two are free to go." Dabi is about to go find somewhere to sulk until then, but reluctantly asks instead, 

"Been feeling weird lately, Doc, you got a minute?" Not thrilled that the mad scientist who was preparing to make him a monster is his only source of medical attention, but he's Dabi's only source of medical attention so he's going to suck it the fuck up. 

"Of course!" Hates how excited the mad doctor sounds about that and takes Dabi to one of the actual rooms and makes him sit on the table like he is a real doctor and Dabi is in for a normal check-up. The doctor draws blood, goes through the usual steps, and Dabi tells him about the weird cat behaviors that he's been dealing with lately while one of his weird advanced machines processes his blood. He doesn't like the way that his brows creep higher and higher as he speaks, but Ujiko just tells him, "Let's see what your bloodwork says." 

When that's ready, he reviews it and makes those humming 'ah fascinating' sounds the whole time which only serves to make dabi more irritated, his ears pinning back and tail flicking as his claws bite into his pants. 

"It seems as though you may be experiencing a... heat of sorts soon." 

Of every fucking thing that the doctor could have said to him, that is not one that Dabi would have guessed in a million years. "A what?" His brain reboots quickly, "That's not possible, aren't heats for girl cats?" 

Ujiko hums in agreement. "They are. Traditionally male cats don't have a mating cycle as such-- but they can react to a female cat's hormones even from quite a distance. There are other feline heteromorphs, it's possible that you're reacting to those pheromones, someone may be bringing more in through the villa, or, perhaps," and his tone changes to a little more careful in a way that sets every one of Dabi's nerves on edge. "There is some behavior or stimulus that you have been in contact with frequently that has had a... placebo effect, making the newly accepted cat DNA a bit confused about which behaviors it should be exhibiting in regards to sexual presentation." 

Dabi is about to make him fucking elaborate on that when the door opens and Duster comes in. Always is a bit paler after spending a week with the doctor, but he's dressed and got his prosthetics on, so he's probably ready to go. Blinks when he sees him. "Firefly, what are you doing here?" 

That's it, my pretty pussy, purr for me. 

Such a good girl, kitten. Taking my cock so well. 

Needy little thing, arching your back so cute. Pushing out your pretty tits. Just begging to be fucked full, aren't you, princess? 

"I'm going to murder you." He says in loo of anything else. And Ujiko just clears his throat and moves along with Duster's pre-discharge check-in. 

///

They get back home and go through work with Dabi hissing and snarling at Shigaraki any time he speaks to him. Duster, for his part, once Dabi had told him what the doctor said to him, had just looked vaguely amused about the whole situation. And the worst part is, the doctor was definitely right about the pseudo-heat. Because as soon as Shig is back, even though Dabi wants to be very, very justifiably angry with him, he's immediately so horny that it's distracting. When he's not actively snarling at his lover while they're in catch-up meetings, he's biting the insides of his cheeks bloody to keep from purring at him, or yowling, or trying to rub up against him to put his scent on him. And he's barely keeping himself from getting noticeably hard the longer the meetings go on. He's going to lose his mind if they aren't finished with this soon. 

It's a big surprise when, instead of him breaking and just forgetting the other lieutenants are very much in the room in favor of climbing right into Tomura's lap, that it's Toga who suddenly gives a loud, agonized groan and whines, with her hand covering her nose, "Can we please be done now?" And he realizes abruptly that her sense of smell is as strong as his. He hisses at Duster for making this situation even more mortifying. Shig looks between the two of them with clear amusement and concedes, dismissing everyone with a wave of his hand. Then he stands and gestures for Dabi to follow. If he weren't fucking gagging for it, Dabi would have told him to fuck off. Instead he immediately follows after him, an embarrassing feline whine slipping out of his throat in plain earshot of all of his co-workers. Spinner and Twice start to howl with laughter, but he's gonna have to kill them after he gets Tomura to rearrange his guts. 

As soon as the door to their room is shut, Dabi is pressing up against his lover. Loud, needy yowls leaving him as he rubs his cheeks against Tomura’s, against his neck, over his shoulders. And he's already hard just from the press of their bodies and the smell of his lover in his nose. Can't stop himself from grinding his cock against him too so he can feel how badly he needs it. 

"Oh, kitten," mewls so loudly when his hand goes to his hair, scratching nails just right around the base of one of his secondary ears. "After how rude you were before--" 

"Tomura," he whines. 

Catches his ear and gives a mean little tug. Just enough to hurt, and that almost makes Dabi's legs drop out from under him, his arousal spikes so sharply. Barely been alone for a minute and Dabi is so desperate that he'd happily cum in his pants, fucking his lover's thigh just to get some relief. "You really are just a needy whore, a bitch in heat, aren't you, princess?" 

"Yes, sir," he agrees immediately. His whole body feels hot. Not the way his quirk normally makes him, but in a tingly way that is making an ache expand out across his skin. Centered at his-- he gives a mortified little mew. Oh god, he's empty and that hurts. He needs Sir's cock inside of him. Needs his cum inside. 

Tomura's smiling at him, that lazy, mean smile that already turns him on nearly past the point of coherency when he's not in some animalistic state of mind. "Show me how much you need me, kitten." And Sir steps out of his space, watching him expectantly. 

Show? His mind feels hazy. He can do that though, he can show his mate how badly he needs him. His hands are shaking as he starts to shrug out of his clothes, made even harder because he can't put away his claws, but he manages to start shedding layer after layer until he's naked as he moves as fast as he can over to their bed. He's frantic as he grabs their lube and yowls loudly when he sees Tomura taking his sweet time to come over to the bed, chuckling as he undoes his tie. Fine. Dabi scrambles onto the mattress, trying his best to make his claws go away, but when he can't he gives up. Gets on his knees, spreading his legs wide, his tail pressing up along his back, and his shoulders and face against the sheets. His cock is throbbing and dripping a steady stream of pre, so much that he's already making a puddle on the bed. He whimpers loudly and uncaps the lube. Can't open himself up with his claws out, but he still spreads it over his hole. The first touch of fingers there makes him moan desperately and nearly forgets himself in the need to be fuller. Only is stopped from tearing himself open because Tomura's hand wraps around his wrist and pulls him gently away. 

"Oh, kitten, that badly?" 

It's all so overwhelming. He's never felt like this before. Is a slave to the needs of his messed up body again. Dabi can't help it. He lets out a weak sob, nodding his head as bloody tears slip down his cheeks. Tomura makes a soft worried sound, but then there's the rustling of fabric and the mattress dips. He presses along the length of Dabi's body, peppering kisses to the back of his neck. "Okay, princess, you're being such a good kitty, I'm going to help."

 And then there are fingers against his hole. Dabi purrs as they sink inside of him, trying to sniffle and choke away the tears. But he needs it so badly. Normally the stretch of his mate's fingers is needed before he can have anything else, but he needs to be full. His fingers aren't enough right now. Dabi rocks back against them, mewling and making a whole litany of feline sounds in his desperate need to be given what he really wants. Gasps, and whimpers, and sobs louder when Tomura shushes and pets him, kisses along his back, wraps his hand around his cock and starts to stroke him slowly and deliberately. But it's not enough, and Dabi accidentally sinks his claws into the back of his hand when he reaches to get his touch away from there. He needs more in his cunt, not that. Just needs to be fucked full. Get his mate's cum so deep inside of him, oh, just the thought has him meowing pitifully. 

"My pretty kitten," definitely worried now. "Are you hurting, baby?" 

Dabi manages to nod with another sob and Tomura coos and shushes him, fingers pulling out of his needy body much sooner than he normally would think necessary to take his big cock and the rough fucking Dabi needs so, so badly right now. "I'm going to help you feel better," he promises. "Going to give you exactly what you need, princess." 

And he finally, finally does. Tomura fucks him hard, Dabi purring and rocking back into every movement, pleasure so sharp it hurts, he can feel it pulsing everywhere in a symphony that sends his human mind so far away he can't do anything but let his instincts drive. His claws sink into the sheets, past them, into the mattress, and the sounds coming out of him are all animal. They don't mean anything to his mate, but to him, they're a constant spill of his desperate need. They echo around his skull, begging to be mated, to be fucked so full, to have his mate's cum pumped deep inside of him over, and over, and over again until he knows for certain that he's been fully bred. Dabi doesn't cum until he feels Tomura's release splashing wetly against his walls, and then he immediately collapses onto the bed, into the wet spot, fingers going to his now empty hole, wanting to keep as much of his cum inside as possible-- and only then realizes that that wasn't enough. That it didn't feel right as he pulled himself so quickly off of his mate's softening cock. It should have hurt. Something human tries to float up to tell him that, no it should not have, but his feline brain is positive it should have. That if it didn't then that means it wasn't right. He needs it again. 

He manages to get it another three times before his exhausted body gives out, but he's still not satisfied. It still felt wrong. And by the time Tomura has cleaned him up, even licking at his cheek to try and get him to purr, and put him into their clean bed, he's mewling weakly and crying again softly. 

Whatever amusement Duster had over the situation is long gone now as he pets him and holds him close, rubbing their cheeks together. "Dabi, can you tell me what's wrong? I can't help if you don't use your words, kitten." 

He sniffles, pressing in closer. "Wrong, n-not full enough. Hurt, Tomura--" stops with another loud yowl.

"What hurts, sweetheart?"

He shakes his head. "Need it, should hurt." And that makes Tomura tense against him, holding him a little tighter. But he keeps stroking his hair, soothing him, until Dabi falls into a fitful sleep. 

///

He wakes up screaming for it again, looking immediately for his mate, but he doesn't have to. Tomura is climbing back into bed with him, and pressing gently between Dabi's shoulder blades. He immediately drops back onto the mattress, pushing his ass up the way he'd presented before. Oh! There's already something inside of him. It's not very big, but it's there, and his mate eases it out of him, letting Dabi feel that he's wet already too. He purrs like a chainsaw when he realizes that means he can have his mate's cock immediately. Tomura starts to press inside and Dabi sucks in a sharp breath. 

And then he moans so loudly he nearly loses his voice. Tomura's cock is perfect. It's so big, always big, but it has a different texture now something that's just the right amount of sharp so that as he fucks into his pliant, desperate body, it hurts the way he'd needed it too. He purrs so loudly, losing himself to how right it feels now to be bred by his mate. 

Manages to cum much more easily than he did before, and when he's all filled up with his mate's cum, his hole aches as he pulls out and that sensation quells his intense need. He's able to roll over and sees that Tomura is wearing a neon green cock sleeve, littered with modest spikes along the whole length of it. 

"Whuh?" He manages very intelligently. His mate leans down and gives him a kiss. 

"Read up on cat behaviors, thought this might help. Was that better, kitten?" 

Wraps his arms around his neck so that he can arch and rub their bodies together from head to toe, tangling their scents all together as he purrs and nods. 

Tomura kisses his cheek, and then rubs them together, making Dabi's purrs go even louder as his tail coils around one of his legs, as if he could get him any closer without having him back inside of him again. "When this passes we can stop playing with feminization, firefly. Make sure it doesn't happen again. I'm sorry." 

Dabi shakes his head. "Don't want to stop. Like being your pretty kitten," just the thought has his cock starting to swell again and his hole tightening unhappily on how empty he currently is. "But if I get pregnant I'm killing us both. No hesitation, Shigaraki." 

Duster chuckles, "I checked in with the doctor again, not a possibility unless you grow a lot of new organs, baby. You haven't felt any intense abdominal or pelvic pain?" 

"Uh-uh," 

"Then you're fine. Just going to keep being needy for a... little while." 

And the change in his tone pulls Dabi a little out of the contented floaty place he was at. "'A little while'? How long is that, Duster?" Tomura winces slightly. "Tomura Shigaraki," He demands a little more harshly. 

"...Could be a whole week, kitten." 

"You are very lucky that I need your dick in me again, or I would kill you." 

"I'm sorry, firefly--" "Dick, right now, Duster!"

Thanks for submitting! Consider leaving a comment, they help to keep the typing box going!

[darlingshane]

UNBOUNDED | PART 5

Frank Castle x F!Reader

Rating: 18+

Word Count: 2,7k

Summary: Rope play with Frank. That's it.

Content/Warnings: explicit, bdsm, dom!frank, rope play, bj's, ball sucking, orgasm control, orgasm denial.

A/N: For reference, Frank ties reader in a rope dress if you wanna search it up beforehand. You can also find the source I used as inspiration in the ao3 chapter.

– Links: Read Below or at AO3. You can also check out the series masterpost on tumblr.

Part 5: Shibari

As promised, Frank takes you on a little gateway a week after your last punishment. He wakes you up way earlier than you’d want to with bags already packed and loaded in his truck, and the smell of toast of coffee that he brings you to bed on a tray.

He’s excited to show you the beautiful place he’s picked for your stance in the mountains – a small cabin close to town surrounded by a stunning snowy scenery on a cold winter day. It’s exactly what you expected of Frank. He knows you too well and loves you even more that he plans the whole thing by himself just to surprise you.

After your arrival, you take it slow, go on a stroll to enjoy the sights, get some groceries in town, and visit the local café and other stores in the vicinity. Before it starts snowing again, you get back to the cabin and make the best out of your well-deserved mini vacation with him.

At nighttime, the unfamiliar space, smell, and temperature of the cabin make you a little nervous, and excited to see what Frank has in storage for you. Admittedly, you've never felt as safe as you do when you're in Frank's playroom, so trying this in someone else's space intimidates you a little.

You've already kicked it up a notch by wearing your master's leather collar under a turtle-neck sweater since you left the apartment this morning. Your relationship is solid enough to taste new boundaries and so far, while it's not something you'd like to incorporate in your daily routine; from time to time it'd be nice to wear it longer and hand him all the control of your actions. Frank's not extremely demanding, however. He seeks for your wellness above all, and having him tell you where to sit, what to eat, giving you permission for mundane tasks is actually just as liberating as when you're doing your usual rough play. You're a master's little pleaser, he's gathered. You thrive in praise and every time you follow his words, he's there to reward you with a kiss, a good girl, or a treat.

While Frank prepares the bedroom for a good playing session, you take a relaxing hot bath, per his command.

When the room is ready, your master comes to find you, and after ushering you out of the tub, he helps you dry your body before tying a black, satin blindfold around your eyes.

“Do you trust me, sweetheart?” he hushes in your ear in that swoon-worthy, deep tone that makes your skin shiver.

“Always, Sir.”

“Hmm.”

That's his pleased response you've come to adore. He takes your hand and steers you towards the bedroom. After a few steps, the texture of the floor changes from wood to something plush and cozy under your bare feet. He stops when you hit the middle of the fabric and your body quickly heats up in anticipation, and at the warmth radiating from the fireplace.

Only Frank can see how gorgeous you look right now, with just the glow of the flames dancing across the surface of your skin, drawing every curve of your figure.

His palms hover the plane of your body for a moment without so much as a touch, letting you guess where he’s going to put them first. After a few seconds, they land carefully on your shoulders. His breath touches the back of your neck, as he places a tender kiss on that spot.

Preparing you for the activity he’s chosen, he spends a good amount of time massaging your neck, shoulders, and arms in all their length down to your palms. Your skin buzzes in delight with his hands thoroughly kneading your back afterward.

When he’s done, he grabs a coil of rope from the chair and proceeds to constrict your body with it.

He takes his time, gingerly binding your torso with a rope dress — you can tell what he's picked from his maneuvering around you. Sir’s rough but careful fingers caress your prickled skin as he ties the folded rope in a series of knots in a line down the middle of your torso. You shudder when a happy knot is placed over your clit, and you try not to move much to not get overexcited. He pulls the tail between your legs and up your back, from under your ass, to link it with the first loop he left hanging between your shoulders blades.

Next, he circles your body, back to the front, and extends your arms up, so he can bring the tails from the back under your armpits. From above your breasts and down to your waist, he starts lacing the rope with great dexterity, creating a diamond pattern along your chest.

It's arduous work, but it seems like a piece of cake to your master. And it's quite rewarding for both.

You’re partial to rope. However, you rarely practice rope play cause a couple of times you’ve felt a little overwhelmed when too much time is spent bound like this. Last time you did, you cried yellow in the middle, but you were restricted in a more intricate way from head to toe; that’s why you figure he went from the rope dress this time.

Almost finished, he frames your mound in one last diamond and curls the tails around your waist to secure them at your back, keenly tying and looping the remains around the line that goes up your spine.

As a final touch, he folds your arms comfortably at the small of your back and uses another coil of rope to bind them to the harness, rendering you completely useless, except for your legs.

“How does it feel, sweetheart? You good?” he squeezes your hands.

“I’m good, Sir. Thank you for being so careful.”

“Anything for my good girl,” relying on touch only, you then feel his fingers moving between your legs, tapping on the knot on your clit, “How about this, does this feel right?”

“It feels amazing, Sir.”

“Hmm,” he presses on it for a few seconds, earning a good sigh out of your lips. “We're gonna get you to your knees now, alright?”

You nod and trust his hands as he lowers you to the floor.

Out of sight, as you get comfortable on your knees, he takes off his shirt and walks around, observing the beautiful form of your surrendering position. Like you’ve already guessed, he opts for leaving your legs free this time to avoid that over exhaustion of last time.

He stops in front of you and cups his bulge, watching you as you take a deep breath and get used to the rope. He admires how much you’ve progressed, and how much trust you’ve put in him. Like now, he could do anything with you right now, and you’d let him without question. That takes a lot of time to build, but with you, it came fairly easy.

After a moment, he picks up the flogger he laid early on the bed and does another spin around you, this time gently letting you feel the leather tresses on different parts of your skin without striking. Surveying your every reaction, he casually places its weight on each of your shoulders, brushes the back of your neck with its tails, tickles the soles of your feet, and then teases your hard nipples, bringing that dizzying arousal that comes from handling him that power.

You stay centered, for the most part, minding your Sir’s desires as he changes your position. He coaxes you to lean forwards until your head and shoulders are propped on the end of the mattress.

“Lift your ass as much as you can,” he orders, patting your rear as you push your ass upwards, “good girl.”

You swallow as he runs the leather tails softly on your rear, cueing you before swinging the flogger. He starts fairly gentle and slow, warming up your cheeks, and the back of your thighs.

When the strikes start coming slightly harder and quicker, your hips jerk and that sweet knot, sitting on the right place, stimulates your clit as a result.

He notices how your body waves, aching for more friction against that knot.

“You’re enjoying that, huh?”

Thud.

“Ahh, yes, Sir.”

Thud.

“What do we say?”

Thud.

“Thank you, Sir.”

Thud.

“Attagirl,” rumbles deep in his throat, followed by a grunt, and a harder thud, “what’s your color?”

“Green, Sir.”

Pausing, he inhales, trying to tame his own arousal, “we’re going to count backwards from ten, and move on. Tell me when you’re ready.”

You take a deep breath, “ready, Sir.”

Much in sync with the other, he swings evenly as you to utter each number after each strike.

The pain is evenhandedly dull with the flogger, it resembles more of a deep massage than anything else. It's the rope around your body that inflicts more damage than the leather falls.

Your body strains against your constraints as you get down to the last three, and it relaxes after the final hit.

Your slickness extends around your binds, reaching your thighs when he's done.

A long, heavy exhalation comes out of your mouth as one of his caring palms touches your ass, assessing the warmth of your skin.

“You took it so fucking good, sweetheart.”

“You gave it so fucking good, Sir,” you murmur.

He smiles to himself and lets you recover for several beats before straightening your torso and checking that your blindfold is still in place.

“Are you hungry, sweetheart?” Sir reaches to your mouth, tilts your chin up with his tucked index finger as his thumb rubs back and forth on your lower lip.

“Hmm, yes, Sir.”

His thumb then slips between your lips, and touches your tongue as you wrap your mouth around it.

“You want something bigger to fill that insatiable mouth?”

“Uh-hum,” you eagerly mumble around his finger, “I’d love that, Sir.”

Scoffing, he plays with your tongue a little more before pulling his thumb out.

If you could see his face, you'd capture the ignition in his eyes, and the plush of his lips turning a few shades of pink deeper at the prospect of what comes next, — him feeding you his cock.

“Stick out your tongue, kitten,” he purrs, undoing his zipper, and releasing his aching erection as you follow his order.

He holds his thick length in one hand, and places his other palm on the side of your head, as he first tentatively taps, and slides the breadth of its head on the plane of your tongue a few times before shoving half his dick in the depth of your mouth.

“Good girl,” he growls, “go on.”

With nothing but your mouth to please your master's stately hard-on, you swirl your tongue, drawing the familiar flare at the top, teasing its slit, and tasting the first drops of his precum. Then, you bob your head back and forth, taking him further down until the tip of his cock touches the back of your throat.

“Attagirl. Keep going.”

Wrapping your lips around his shaft, you worship his cock with passion, earning praises and delightful groans out of your master's mouth.

Extremely aroused, your hips undulate lightly, searching for the delicious pressure of the rope on each side of your lips, and the knot that shifts with your movements over your swollen clit.

Suddenly, Frank stops you from finishing him and takes his cock out of your mouth, allowing you to catch your breath.

You pout, and he smirks, holding his length, stepping an inch closer to your face and propping his balls over your lips, so you can feel them.

“Suck’em,” he orders gravely.

Your tongue swipes across your lips as you follow your Sir’s wishes. You take one blindly into your mouth, capturing the already taut skin of his scrotum, and cover it in your saliva before taking the other. He jerks himself, flattering the ways of your doing between clenched teeth and well garnered grunts as you drive him out of his mind with the swirling and desperate sucking of his sack.

When he’s close, he takes them away and shoves his twitching cock back in your mouth. He holds your head still with both hands, as you set your jaw a little slacked, so he can fuck your mouth obscenely hard the rest of the way until he ejaculates in the middle of your tongue with just a handful of thrusts.

Standing still from a moment, he anchors himself to you as his breath catches.

You're nearly in tears when he puts his cock away and crouches in front of you to wipe your mouth, and bathe you with more sweet adulation.

“Who’s my best girl?” he rasps, removing the blindfold off your eyes.

“I am, Sir,” you blink as your vision adjusts to the warm light of the fireplace.

“Damn right you are,” he states huskily, cupping your jaw in his palms, massaging the joints of your mandible, “you did so good. How are you feeling? You wanna keep going?”

“Thank you. I’d like that, Sir… I haven't… yet…”

“I know,” he smiles softly, “I was getting to it. Do you want me to untie you?”

“Just my arms, Sir.”

“Okay,” he sighs, utterly pleased, and proceeds to untie your hands.

He helps up to your feet and places you on the bed on your side. His large form spoons your shape, tucking one of his hands between your legs. His fingers slip under the rope and that well-placed knot, and he gently caresses your over-excited clit that was begging for some attention.

His lips roam your neck, nibbling and kissing, as the pressure of his fingers madly fuel that fiery flame growing in your core.

“Can I come, Sir?”

“Tsk, not yet baby,” cause he likes to make you beg a few times.

As you squirm in his hold, he rubs harder on you as the rope strains in all the right places, marking your skin.

“Please, Sir,” you plead again after a couple of minutes.

“Shh, just a little more. I know how long you can hold, sweetheart,” he grins smugly before sucking a good chunk of your neck between his lips, “be a good girl for me.”

You moan and hold tight for several beats, gripping at his arm that tenses with every move as it rubs fiercely on your clit until you reach a point of no return. It’s either stop or let go. There’s no in between.

“Pleasepleaseplease, Sir,” you desperately pant, overtaken by that torrent of pleasure held only by a shred of will.

Reveling in that power, he makes you wait, — just a little more – before granting you the right to unleash that powerful orgasm that flows freely through every inch of your body, setting every cell ablaze.

Under a heavy breath, you utter your gratitude to your master and relax in the safety of his arms. You love the extra cuddles and kisses, and he loves indulging you for being a good girl. He's always so tender and attentive, it makes your heart swoon. Tonight, he waits until you've completely come down from your high, and your body has turned to jello to remove the rope tying your body. Carefully undoing each knot, he enjoys seeing the temporary marks of pleasure and devotion left on your skin. He cares for them, spreading lotion on your skin and making sure there is no burn or extreme damage to the surface of your body.

Then, you sit comfortably against the headboard and cover your body up to your chest with a blanket afterward, while Frank gathers some food from the kitchen.

“You were so beautiful today, I should have taken a picture,” he says, holding a spoon near your mouth to feed you a piece of cheesecake after settling next to you.

“Thank you, Sir,” you smile timidly, take your bite of food, and express with your mouth full, “you don't have to feed me.”

“I wanna,” he shrugs, taking a piece of cake for himself.

“Next time you could take a picture, you know?”

“Would you want that?”

“In other circumstances I'd say no, but I trust you, Sir. I know it'd be only for you.”

“Maybe I will,” he offers you another bite, followed by a quick kiss to your lips.

[deadweightwritings]

ON A PLAIN. TWD S6. [snippet]

ON A PLAIN - NIRVANA

TWD + Dixon!Reader [SEASON 6 E8 SPOILERS]

The grip on her dad’s waist loosened as they slowed down in the forest. Blinking to clear her vision, Kit realized she was weaker than she expected…more tired than she knew.

“Going down—Bailing—” She said, sliding off of the motorcycle and onto the woodland ground. THUMP.

“Kit, Jesus Christ!” Both of them were out of breath as Daryl joined her in the dirt.

“Dad, Jesus Christ.” Drawled from her mouth in mockery and he scoffed playfully. A growl next to them made them both jump and shriek quietly, but the helmet on the walker showed they were just fine lazing on the ground.

On their feet a few minutes later, Kit saw her dad wince and the crimson gushing out of his glove. She sighed, grabbing the pack strapped to back of her belt. Daryl tried, muttering and cussing to get the jacket off, and he did. Seeing the extent of his wound made her a little relieved, nothing but a gnarly scratch. Kit watched as the small bottle of alcohol contents dripped down his forearm and she bandaged it wet. Not the smartest idea, but shit, they didn’t have much of a choice.

“Jus’ fer now.” Afterward, they covered the bike in broken branches and leaves, knowing they couldn’t travel far right now. Hearing the familiar sound of a branch snap, Daryl motioned upward, for Kit to get in a tree as he stood guard with his crossbow. She twisted her pointer and middle fingers around each other at him, signaling: I’ll track you, promise. Her hands dragged her higher and higher in the tree, making barely any noise as she heard a solid THUNK. Her eyes looked down to see her dad unconscious and carried by a man, and two women. Welp, looks like tonight will be spent in a tree.

WHAT THE HELL AM I TRYING TO SAY?

The group heard a crack of tree bark and Kit swore more than a drunken sailor in her head. She held her breath, trying to blend into the branch she was balanced on. At dawn, she started tracking the people who nabbed her dad before dusk the day before. Not that she needed breadcrumbs, but Daryl stepped harder into the ground that he normally would, once he was awake. The others weren't exactly smart enough to be light on their feet. He, Dwight, switched his head back to Daryl, readjusting his aim with the handgun.

“You tell me, am I being stupid?” FWIP. An arrow shot and knocked the gun from his hand, and he stiffened, they all did. Kit dropped below from a tree, leaves crunching under her dirt crusted boots. Her next arrow aimed right at his forehead:

“Yea, if you think you gon’ shoot him n’ stay livin’ afterward.” He raised his hands up, the women following suit after him, Kit dropped her bow and arrow, fashioning the machete from her thigh holster.

“You really think some girl like you can take on us?” The shake in his voice made her tip the machete onto his neck, she pushed a little and he winced. Her hand swiped the bowie knife from her hip and handed it to her dad behind her back,

“Bitch, I’ve skinned rabbits wit bigger balls tha’ you.” Daryl went and swiped the gun from the ground next to him. The two women were shaking like two autumn leaves and Kit felt bad for them, and how naïve they were, at this moment.

“Yer gonna take us t’ where we can find this Patty. Move it.”

I LOVE MYSELF, BETTER THAN YOU.

Pulling the crossbow out of the duffel, Kit had already thrown a knife straight into the skull. She huffed, pulling her weapon out of the bone and looked back to see her dad staring blankly at the duffel.

The woman, Tina, had collapsed and the Dixon duo saw the opportunity. Daryl grabbed the handle of the large duffel, and grabbed Kit's forearm, sprinting out of the open area.

"HEY! WE NEED THAT!"

She saw a cooler with the label of “INSULIN – keep cool” on it and pinched between her eyes.

“Fucks sake, man.”  

The duffel bag was swung over Kit’s shoulder, machete in hand as they stalked to finally track and find the group of three.

“Drop the gun, drop it now!” Daryl ordered, lining up his arrow with his head as precaution. Lowering the gun, Kit held out her hand and said nothing. This man knew what to do either way and placed the gun in the young woman’s hand swiftly.

“What were you carvin’ earlier, huh?” Slowly reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a little statue wood carving.

“My grandfather taught me, I—”

“We don’ care.” Snatching it from him, Kit threw down the duffel bag full of medicine, and two finger saluted them.

“Good luck, yer gon’ need it.” The rumble of a vehicle approaching made Daryl grab Kit’s denim vest and yank her to the ground. Oh, c’mon. The back-and-forth conversation by the people in the car and the trio they just found made a pit form in Kit’s stomach. Something about their tone reminded her on the Claimers. Next thing she knew, they were booking it through the woods.

Oh look, it’s like this is every fucking day.

Shuffling behind a cage made of thick branches, Daryl and Kit broke off from the trio. They spotted a walker stuck, slightly covered by the greenery, but enough to cause damage to anyone who got close. Daryl went forward, rustling the branches in front of them to draw the guy’s attention, and booyah, the fucker got bit.

“Wade! I’ve been bit, Wade!” If he isn’t killed soon, another fucking herd of walkers will hear him. The guy, Wade, she assumed appeared next to him, seeing the bite on his arm. He wraps something around the dude’s upper arm, and Kit is reminded instantly of Merle.

“Ah, don’t hurt tha’ bad, honey. Can’t be a bitch, n’ order t’ go through wit it!” Shaking her head as the piercing scream and the SHING of a blade echoed through the woods. As they retreated so did the Dixon’s and the trio. They followed them to a charred down house, skeptical but still wanting to know who they were. One of the women, Tina, broke down seeing two of the people she knew, dead and burnt on the ground surrounded by glass.

Kit stood a few feet away from her, constantly eyeing her dad and the other man. A shout broke her away from her gaze and the walker broke out, gnawing on Tina’s throat.

“Shit!” She yelled, chucking herself to the ground and slashed the walker across the brain. Blood shot up into her eyes and she grimaced at the well-known feeling. Honey threw herself at Tina’s body as Kit rolled to her side, away from them and exhaled through her teeth noisily.

“Can’t ever be peaceful, huh?” She muttered as Daryl lifted her to her feet, hearing Honey sob behind them. Daryl was helping the man dig Tina’s grave as Kit sat on her ass, hand on her machete, while the other had two knives nestles between her fingers. He caught his kid’s eye, and she held up three fingers to him:

“How many walkers have you killed?” “A lot…two dozen at the least.” “How many people have you killed?” “None?” “Why?” “Why didn’t I kill someone? It’s not something you come back from.” Kit scoffed at that.

Daryl eventually convinced them to come to Alexandria, Kit could laugh at how Aaron had made him still take up the job in this circumstance. She followed behind her dad, machete at her side as she helped him lift up the motorcycle. They both heard a click behind their backs. Kit struggled not to audibly groan.

God, we can’t have shit in D.C.

The Dixon’s merely turned around, unfazed by their threat. Kit glaring at the two, but mainly Dwight in front of them, holding the gun.

“Give her the crossbow, machete, bow and arrows.” Neither of them moved. The man shifted his gun to Kit’s head and Daryl flinched,

“Give her the weapons or she dies.” The young woman, covered in dirt, oil, human and walker blood almost burst out cackling.

“Honey, it’s kill, or be killed.” Merle’s voice echoed in her ear, seeing him leant up against a tree trunk in the distance behind the barrel of the gun.

“An’ the only thing that kills a Dixon, is a Dixon, missy.” A gunshot rang out next to Kit’s head and Merle disappeared from her view. Both of them barely moved at the action and the noise that followed. A hand swiped a pistol from under their shirt. BANG. BANG.

Kit shot them both, point blank, in the head. Daryl stood still, taking a moment to look at his daughter.

I KNOW IT’S WRONG, SO WHAT SHOULD I DO?

“Kit—”

“Tha’ walker wit the helmet…gotta be another ride ‘round here. Gotta find Abraham n’ Sasha.” She motioned with her head to follow, spit on the ground and shuffled past him and the bodies she just shot.

That walker on the ground was still moving, moaning and growling, the thing was practically a black skeleton and had more life than Kit felt she had. Her boots stepped on something that made a metallic CLANG, she scuffed her boot on it, then reached down to wipe the dirt off.

“Patty’s Fuel Company…Found ‘em.” A silent trek later, the duo scored a massive truck. No walker booby traps, or bullshit strings attached to it. Before Kit opened the driver’s door, Daryl grabbed her shoulder.

“Kit—”

“‘M fine.”

“Kit, you just—”

“They’d ‘ave killed us both. We can’t be takin’ chances. Not anymore, not after we give 'em a choice too.” Whipping her arm out of his hold, she threw open the door, seeing the dead driver try to claw at her. Daryl barged in front of her and drove his knife in its head. They met eyes and Daryl motioned for her to get in the truck, she hopped up and slid over, taking her pistol in her hand as she looked out the windshield. There was un-needed tension between the father and daughter, and it softened when they were on the road and Kit pulled a pen out of her inner jacket pocket. Clicking it, she opened the side of her vest:

I I

The tally marks laid next to a dozen other tallies on the denim inside. Kit sighed heavily through her nose, clicking the pen and shoving it back in the pocket. Daryl caught her movements and breathed through his teeth,

“You ain’t gonna turn cold on me, Kit?” You ain’t gonna shut down on me, right? You ain’t gonna stop in the middle of the end of the world, Kit?

“No, sir.” Kit smacked her thigh with her fist a few times, her face twitched as she fiddled with the pistol. She swiped at the edge of her nose.

“Ain’t never gonna switch up on you.”

I’M ON A PLAIN, I CAN’T COMPLAIN.   

“Daryl.” “Dad.” “I see ‘em.” Kit furrowed her eyebrows, holding up her pistol at the people in the road, blocking them.

“End o’ the world, n’ there’s fuckin’ biker gangs still?” Abraham chuckled at her statement,

“What in the holy shit?” The car pulled to a halt, brakes squeaking, and Kit felt sweat run down the back of her neck.

“Why don’t you come out? Join us in the road?” Nobody could hear a pin drop in the truck as the hum of the engine filled the space.

“If you wanna try something, it’s your choice. But we will end your asses, split you right in two, so c’mon.” The man waved his hand, beckoning them to come out.

“Dad just run him over.” Kit muttered, barely moving her lips as she stared forward through the dirty windshield.

“Can’t.” Kit blinked a few times, trying to understand the fuckin’ shit show day she’s had, that kept getting better n’ better. Abraham and Daryl opened the car doors, Sasha and Kit shuffling out on their respective sides:

“I already killed 2 people today, what’s a couple more?” She whispered, tucking her gun into her belt, but placed her palm around the handle of her machete.

“Alright! Step two and turn in your weapons?” Nah, you buggin’. Daryl now furrowed his brows,

“Why should we?”

“They don’t belong to you?”

“What?” “What?” Seethed out Abraham and Kit in sync her shoulder tensing.  

“See…your weapons, your truck, the fuel, mints in the compartment, porn under the seats, the seats themselves, the little stash of napkins on the dash…they’re no longer yours.”

“Who’s are they?” Sasha questioned darkly.

“Your property, now belongs to, Negan.”    

I’M ON A PLAIN, I CAN’T COMPLAIN.   

[nrdmssgs]

😿Please-please dont leave Riot sad and desperate. I want a happy ending please. 😿

Ok, here's happy mischievous Riot for you, love!

Part 1 Masterlist Fluff

Summary: Christine 'Riot' Vega (belongs to @gamergirlbonestaskforce141riot) has a little vacation and Nikolai and Olga 'Zhar' Samoilova show her St. Petersburg.

"Nik, for God’s sake, let go of the poor thing! Get yourself a child and pack them in a thousand layers of clothes!" Olga sighs impatiently, propping her back against the front door.

"I'm not torturing her - just making sure, my little ray of sunshine doesn't catch cold." Nikolai and Christine grin at each other, while he wraps a scarf around her, so that it covers half of her face. "Besides, sokrovishe moye*, you want me to switch to 'getting a kid' routine right now or you're willing to wait till the evening?"

If a gaze could burn through flesh - Nik would already be on fire. It seemed, that every TF Lieutenant, even a former one, got their very own signature death stare. But the overall mood in the room was still jolly, and Christines happy laughter was the best acknowledgement to it.

She was smiling widely ever since Olga calmed her down, Nikolai came back from a meeting and promised Riot, that he'll make his second in command take a day off and spend it with them. Even on the next morning, she looked like a little lantern, lighting up the surrounding space.

On their way to café, Riot planned and executed a full 'drop your friends into a snow pile' operation.

"Captain should have seen this - I could get a raise!" She laughed, while Olga fought her way back on the solid ground and Nikolai held her firmly, not letting her away.

"Stop fighting, feisty thing. Just relax and I'll lift you myself." Nikolai whispered, pressing Zhar closer and ignoring her fruitless attempts to escape.

"You rascal. A scoundrel. Bribed my friend to do that, didn't you?" Every Olgas next phrase was interrupted by a kiss until she gave up and kissed him back.

Riots grin radiated from under the scarf, when Nikolai lifted Zhar and finally let her go.

***

"You two look, like you're planning some world-class heist!" Christine checked, how her friends came out on a photo she took.

"I look like an absolute sweetheart," Nikolai leaned closer to Riot and took a peak at her smartphone "It's my love, who looks like a predator on a hunt every time, she reads the dessert card."

"Christine, how much would you miss this man if-"

"If you two went on a date this evening? I won't miss him at all. Nik? No, never heard of him. Won't miss this lucky bastard at all."

Olga raised her eyes to her friend and sighed. "I was going to ask your permission to strangle Nikolai alive, but... ok, date it is, I guess."

Nik tried to make some commentary about holding the strangling part till they are back home, but Zhars fingers clasped to his shoulder so strong - they became white.

"Ok-ok, before you kill the poor guy - tell me one thing!" Christine smiled enigmatically and tilted her head slightly. "There's one detail about you, nobody from the TF could describe to me. That being, how come you never talked to each other for years of working together before that notorious operation?"

Olga looked lost, as if she tried to form an answer, but couldn't find the right words. Nikolai on the contrary was relaxed and happy and went back to hugging her.

"Well, we actually talked. Twice even. It just never went that well." Zhar broke the silence.

"Whoa, you made jokes about each other? Or shared some memories from Russia? Or straight started a fight?" Riot had so many scenarios in her head, it was a pity, none of them were close to reality.

"No, I. Well, the first one was my bloop, to be honest. But she got me scared!" It was funny to hear, that anyone could frighten Nikolai, but he went on. "I stumbled upon her in the middle of the night, and she pointed the gun at me, little crazy thing! I was lost, so I... I congratulated her with the Chekist day. It was a first thing, that I remembered!"

"Wait, Chekist as the 'Cheka' soviet secret police?... That controlled the society and executed many innocents? Nik, I love you, but were you out of your mind?"

"He was, Christine." Olga nodded eagerly. "And I didn't point my gun at him - he walked on me in the armory, where I cleaned it! I even have a witness - Ghost was there!"

"Oh yes, I forgot, that I got not one, but two side eyes! Very nice of you, guys! Super-friendly, not intimidating at all!" Nikolai moved closer to Riot just in case.

Zhar squinted her eyes unkindly and took a sip of coffee, letting Nik continue his story.

"The second time was purely her fault. I did nothing wrong, I swear!" Nikolai tried to hide behind Riots shoulders, but it wasn't that easy, considering, how much taller he was, even when seated.

"My fault?!" Zhar made another sip and closed her eyes for a moment. "My best friend came back from the mission, we all went to the pub, where this happy face already was..." She glanced at Nikolai. "There, I learn, that Nik dropped my Kyle out of his copter! My friend could have died. It was only natural-"

"It was only natural for you to wait till I go out, pin me to the wall and threaten me?" Nikolai still tried to hide behind Riots chair.

"I explained, what will happen to you, if it ever happens again. And don't play on Christine's nerves as if you are not a full head taller than me. You could push me away at any moment."

"Na-a-a-ah, I bet somebody just got horny and froze to remember every single moment." Riot chuckled, looking back at Nik.

"Horny? Solnushko*, I got terrified! She reeked of beer - this little trouble could have done anything and I couldn't fight back!" Nikolai pouted.

"Just for the record: I reeked of beer because MacTavish couldn't keep his hands still, and his glass of beer ended up on my jeans."

"Oh, I'm sorry, I didn't check, how wet your pants were every time we had an encounter. How ungentlemanly of me. The next time you decide to pin-"

"The next time, I'm taking a bloody rope. And a gag..." Olga stood up and disappeared into the depths of the café.

Riot bent and was now suffocating of laughter. Nikolai patted her back softly.

"There's no way, I can make you not tell this story to others, isn't it?" he asked, half predicting her answer.

Riot couldn't master a single word, so she just shook her head.

"Well, at least, looks like I'll have the best date ever thanks to you." He took the menu. "Now, how about we pick you something sweet? This chocolate Ferrero cake looks nice, mm?"

sokrovishe moye - my treasure

Solnushko - sunshine

[mollymauk-teafleak]

something in the orange tells me we're not done

This is the first thing I've written in so long! I'm hoping you guys like it, huge thanks to @hangsters for all the support and being my favourite audience

Please reblog and comment over on Ao3 if you enjoyed this!

-

Pete 'Maverick' Mitchell. Wanted for armed robbery, fraud. Armed and highly dangerous. Dead or Alive. By order of Sheriff Tom Kazansky.

The posters have been up in the bustling mining town of Miramar foe as long as anyone can remember. It's become another legend they tell about their Sheriff, this one criminal he can never catch, the one slight on a perfect record.

But Sheriff Kazansky knows exactly where Maverick is. In fact, Maverick is waiting for him.

-

It was only when he’d just gotten out of a town that Maverick realized how much he hated them.

He didn’t know how people breathed there, with all the dust kicked up by the wagon wheels and hooves, the soot from the trains, the sharp ethanol and smothering poppy rolling out of the gambling dens. And all those people, so many other lives crammed in next to his own, coming and going and rushing and jostling, somehow finding a way to be busy in the middle of nowhere. And all those eyes on him, narrowed in suspicion like he had ‘bad news’ scrawled on his face. 

Even when they hadn’t yet seen the posters with crude sketches of him under the word ‘WANTED’.

Maverick forgot what quiet felt like, what sleep felt like, what peace felt like until he had the lights and noise well behind him. It was a relief every time, even when leaving hadn’t exactly been his choice. Even when he left in the middle of the night, heart hammering, not daring to mount his horse until he was clear of the buildings, certain if he made the slightest noise, lights would come on, a cry would be raised and he’d be dodging bullets.

But he’d made it, free and clear. He could unsaddle Mustang, build himself a quick fire and lean back against his pack, nothing under him but his thin leather coat and solid red stone, nothing above him but a vast expanse of stars and take a bigger, fuller breath than he’d managed in weeks. It would be days before he lost the taste of smog on his tongue but this was a start. 

The adrenaline of his escape hadn’t let go yet, there was still a buzzing in the very tips of his fingers, his heart still fluttered against his ribs like a nervous bird. Maverick told himself to get a grip, escapes were never as clean as that, the job had been a thing of beauty, the pack under his head was fuller than it had been in a while and the plains stretched out in front of him promising as much freedom as that money would buy. If anyone down in the mining town of Miramar were going to come after him, he knew who it would be.

So maybe the beating in his chest wasn’t adrenaline. Maybe it was hope. Maverick didn’t know what was worse. 

Either way, he couldn’t sleep when every nerve felt like the fuse on some dynamite. Instead he listened to Mustang happily cropping away at the scrub grass, useless to any horse less hardy than she was, and made a game of finding shapes in the stars. And he waited. He tried to pretend he wasn’t but it was hard to lie to himself when it was so obvious. 

He began to worry that he’d come too far into the hills. This place was difficult to find, all sheer cliffs and hidden rivers and loose stone, so the townsfolk stayed well away, preferring the safe tracks. Even if you knew it like the back of your hand, this particular ridge was like an old scar so faded it was almost invisible. Maverick suspected even the other bandits who had to risk these goat tracks didn’t know about it. 

But he did so the simple fact remained that if he didn’t show up, he wasn’t coming. All the same, Maverick idly nudged the fire with the toe of his boot, sending more smoke into the air. Just in case. 

He pulled his hat down over his eyes, telling himself he was going to sleep now. He told his heart to quit it, to stop making a fool of them, he let the stars crowd out everything else in his mind. It worked after a little while, falling into one of those dreams where he was always running. 

Until something eclipsed those stars, enough of a shift in the light to wake a sleeping bandit on a hair trigger. When Maverick opened his eyes, the sky was gone but a smile had replaced it, a smile sharp as a whip crack and one Mav would trade any number of stars for. 

“I should have known,” the sleep and the crooked grin spreading across his face roughened his voice, “You’re the only person who can ever sneak up on me.”

Sheriff Tom Kazansky reached down and flicked the brim of Mav’s hat, knocking it clear of his face, “Mighty fine job you’re doing of escaping. Sleeping on your gun and kicking enough smoke into the sky for a blind man to notice.” 

“Then why’d it take you so long?” Maverick couldn’t wait any longer, he took hold of the other man’s shoulders and pulled him into a kiss. 

They called Tom the Iceman, painting a ruthless, cold lawman over the gentler soul Mav had known for years. Even he called him Ice now, it had been to tease him at first, just like how Ice would call him the name on his wanted posters in return. But now there was something natural to it, something precious, like a reminder that those nicknames didn’t own them and couldn’t keep them apart. 

They had good reason to lionize their sheriff. Miramar had started as a wasteland, an ember barely keeping warm as bad weather and bandits pressed in around them. Law hadn’t been more than a breath of hot air in the mouths of men too rich to give a damn about the inhabitants of such a small settlement. Ice had changed that. 

He’d come in, no one knowing where from or what kind of past nipped at his heels, and he’d said it was enough. He’d worn a target on his back, working tirelessly and fighting clean until Miramar became something to notice, a place that was safe. He’d bargained to bring the railway line in, he’d invited developers, he’d suggested there might be something useful to mine in the hills and he’d been right. A beanpole of a kid, sun bleached hair and stubborn smile, he had grown into a man they’d been proud to pin the sheriff badge on. It sometimes seemed like Ice had pulled the sprawling, profitable town that Miramar became out of the rock with his own two hands, that he’d woven it out of his own force of will. 

Maverick believed it. He remembered nights long ago, when they’d lay on their backs on the brothel roof, Tom’s eyes bright in a way that hadn’t had anything to do with poppy or whiskey. He’d talked about where they’d live one day, somewhere safe, somewhere no one got hurt. He talked about how his sister Sarah would have a house of her own, how Pete would wear his hair short and go about in trousers and shirts and everyone would call him sir without even thinking. 

He’d say it in a voice so sure, so certain, that Maverick never thought to doubt him. He wasn’t the least bit surprised that the Iceman had built the home Tom used to dream about. 

And he wasn’t surprised that there were promises he hadn’t made back then. Even with the stars reflecting in his eyes, Tom had left things unsaid. That particular hope had stayed unspoken, hidden in their clumsy, desperate kisses and touches up on that roof. Tom had listed the futures he’d secure for others while never speaking of his own. 

Because why hope for something you couldn’t have? 

But in that moment when their lips met, what they did have was so beautiful it could almost be enough. He could taste whiskey on Ice’s tongue and smell faint smoke on his jacket. He’d spent the evening in the Hard Deck saloon, apparently celebrating a successful capture, far from the jail so no one could pin Maverick’s escape on him. 

No smell of opium though, a relief even if Maverick felt guilty checking for it. He didn’t know how Ice could bear to be around the stuff after how hard it had been for him to kick his habit, after they left their shitty home town. Hell, it terrified him to know Ice lived a silver dollar away from that horrible black tar, after all it had been Maverick who’d held Tom through the shakes, the incoherent begging and sobbing nightmares, the gray vomit and sweat, certain that his lover’s heart would simply give up. But it hadn’t and, apparently, it had been iron ever since. There was never a single wisp of that sickly sweet smell on Ice’s clothes, no matter how long Maverick had been away. 

He shoved the past and the future away, sending them to the back of his mind. Right now he had Ice’s mouth and soft, ragged breathing and hands roving, his body pressed against him with a warmth more dependable and sure than the fire. Maverick sighed against his lips, the sound at the end of a very long journey. 

Ice kissed him until the need for air drew him back, panting softly, “Besides…you took something from me. Had to get it back.”

Maverick looked up at him with simple innocence, sugaring his smile, “I don’t know what you’re talking about, Sheriff? You’re welcome to search me though.”

“Don’t think I won’t…” Ice grinned, kissing him again, a sweet counterpoint to his hands that now began to undo buttons and buckles with more urgency. He did search the many pockets concealed and hand sewn into Maverick’s jacket, the ones he knew about because he’d put them in himself. 

Maverick nipped at his lip, playfully, “Not there…”

“You son of a bitch,” Ice laughed, giving up and just pulling away his clothes, shirt off and tossed aside, leather trousers yanked down. 

Maverick gave as good as he got, soon Ice’s town finery was in the dust too and he had more lines of muscle, several new freckles scattered across that golden skin, harder angles of bone than before to map out. But it was still his Ice all the same, no one else lit this fire in him, woke up the hunger he ignored when he was on his own. 

The night air was cold but he barely noticed between Ice’s body and the fire crackling beside them, between every nerve ending he had focused only on needing him. Ice’s mouth chased the shadows dancing across Maverick’s skin, words spilling in between gasps for breath like he had too much to say and not enough time to say it in. 

“Missed you so goddamn much, it was hell being so close to you and I couldn’t touch you,” Ice moaned, following the lines of Maverick’s collarbone and finding the spot where it made him squirm, “Had you right there and it may as well have been miles…”

Maverick tried to make up for it now, pressing close to him, feeling the hard, hot press of his erection on his thigh, “Well, you caught me. Fuck me, sweetheart, I’m right here.”

Ice groaned, moving with more purpose now than a raw, desperate need to just be close. He let Maverick’s legs fall open, moving between them, starting to find where they fit together. It was so perfect, so easy, like they’d been made as a whole being, each of their bodies made to fit the other. Like there was cruelty in them being apart. 

Maverick moaned low in his chest at the initial burn of it, a sweet ache like the one in his legs as he rode hard from a job well done. The hurt didn’t fade as Ice sank into him, right up to the point where their hips met, it was just buoyed by bliss, by relief, a longing finally satisfied. His trembling sigh was caught on Ice’s lips as he kissed him, bruisingly hard, like he wanted Maverick to feel his mouth there even after they had to part again. 

That awoke something in him, something hungry and desperate. Suddenly this wasn’t enough, he’d been waiting too long, he’d been missing him too deeply. Maverick used those muscles hard earned from days of riding and turned them, pressing Ice onto his back while he mounted him instead. He drove down on his lover hard, crying out as he did, his voice echoing off the smooth rock and lost to the stars. The noises Ice made were even sweeter, submitting without question, giving Maverick exactly what he wanted without needing to ask. 

“God…” his voice, usually so calm and steady and measured, was now cracked wide, “Yes, sweetheart, just like that, fuck-“

Maverick trembled, riding him hard, his voice uneven with it, soaring as Ice’s cock drove against that sweet spot inside him, “You’re home. You’re home, darlin…”

Ice’s muscles tensed hard as iron under the hands Maverick splayed on his belly, there was nothing passive in it, everything given as hard as it was taken. His own hands gripped Maverick’s hips, digging in to leave those marks his lover craved, the proof he’d cling to in the lonely nights that would come after this. 

It would end too soon, they both knew it, they couldn’t keep this frantic flight. Maverick tried to hold it off, to keep going, but it was just too much. He went off like a rifle, with a kick and a sharp, sweet cry, Ice having to fight to hold onto him. Then there was a low growl of his name, heat flooding into him, embers in the pit of his stomach that made him feel for a moment like he’d never known what cold meant, what loneliness meant. 

“Fuck,” Maverick panted heavily, nearly rolling right into another release from how good it felt when Ice came inside him, “Darlin…”

“Here,” Ice gasped and that was all he needed to say, that was all that mattered.

Maverick bent, finally out of energy, the adrenaline burned away to smoke. His forehead rested on Ice’s chest, feeling the thrum of his heartbeat the same way he could feel a train coming by putting his ear to the tracks. 

Except now he feared this wasn’t something rushing towards him, it was something leaving. A train he’d missed and couldn’t catch up to. 

“Don’t,” he begged in a raw, ragged voice, as he felt Ice start to shift, making to pull out of him, “Not yet. Please.”

“Sweetheart…” there was pain in Ice’s voice too, he pulled him close and wrapped his arms around him. 

Maverick just about managed not to cry, he didn’t want to make this harder on Ice, make him feel a guilt that wasn’t fair to place on his shoulders. God knew he deserved a lot of the blame, he’d gone down the opposite road to his lover, turning away from the law when Ice had turned it into a shield. There had been that unspoken offer, the chance to build Miramar together. Maverick sometimes thought of the other version of himself, the one that had been brave enough to put down roots. Maybe he’d run the saloon and no one would mind when Sheriff Kazansky stayed past closing. Maybe he’d own the mine and have a sprawling townhouse with enough rooms that people wouldn’t question the Iceman coming and going, just two bachelors playing cards too late into the night. 

And maybe it would all come crashing down one day when the crimes he’d committed caught up with him, Ice would lose everything when he shielded him and break entirely when he had to see him hang. 

There were a lot of maybes. But in the desert, freedom was certain. 

It didn’t make the decision hurt any less, not as he fought tears against Ice’s shoulder. Not as the sky already began to bleed orange as dawn caught up with them, the stars fading as the tide of a new day washed them out. It was time to run again. 

Separating was death by a hail of bullets rather than one clean shot. First becoming two separate people again, Maverick’s body already aching for him, cold without his warmth. Then washing off the smell of each other in the small stream, covering up the bite marks and thumbprints beneath their clothes. Ice pulling his horse Tomcat away from Mustang, taking his time saddling him while Maverick dawdled similarly over packing down his camp, the two men talking lightly of small things, chatting the way they hadn’t had time to when Maverick was in the Miramar jail cell for the couple of hours it had managed to hold him. 

Eventually Maverick had to kick dust over the embers of their fire and approached Ice who was waiting for him by Tomcat, the same regret mirrored in their eyes. He looked so beautiful in the dawn light, bronzed like a statue of some young hero who’d sacrificed too much. 

“Here,” Maverick finally held out the thing he’d filched from Ice’s pocket when he’d been arrested, his hands as quick as they’d ever been. He’d known Ice would come meet him before he skipped town but taking something he’d known he’d come back for was just insurance. 

The bullet that lay in his palm was old, so much so that it was turning gold from all the times Ice had idly rolled it between his fingers as he thought. But the initials etched in the side were still visible- P.M. 

There was no one else Maverick trusted to hold the bullet with his name on it. 

Ice took it gratefully, letting their hands linger together, “Well. It’s worked this long, right?”

“Sure has,” Maverick smiled tiredly, “Long as you’re keeping it for me, I’ll come home safe.”

He didn’t hold to the same rule Ice did about not making promises that couldn’t be kept. 

Ice looked like he was trying to believe him anyway, pressing the bullet to his lips before tucking it into his shirt pocket, “You better, Pete Mitchell. I’ll be waiting.”

“And I’ll be running to you.”

Their last kiss was as hungry as their first, deep and sweet and tasting of salt as they both had to pretend wasn’t there. Maverick stayed on the ridge, watching until Ice’s figure became smaller and more distant, lost to the rising and falling of the valley. And even then he lingered, waiting until dawn had fully broken. 

Only then did Maverick mount up and dig his heels in. The desert was vast and peaceful and he had a lot of miles to go. 

[thewidowsghost]

Seeing the Beauty (Piper McLean x Fem!Jackson!Reader) - Chapter 8

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

(Y/n) stands in a clearing in the middle of a redwood forest, In front of her rises the ruins of a stone mansion. Low gray clouds blend with the ground fog, and the cold rain hangs in the air. A pack of large gray beasts mills round her, brushing against her legs and baring their teeth. They gently nudge her towards the ruins.

With no intention of becoming the world's largest dog biscuit, (Y/n) decides to do what they want.

The ground squelches under her combat boots as she walks. Stone spires of chimneys, no longer attached to anything, rise up like totem poles. The house must've been enormous once, multi-storied with massive log walls and a soaring gabled roof, but now nothing remains but its stone skeleton. (Y/n) finds herself passing under a crumbling doorway and almost knocks Jason over.

"Jason?" (Y/n) questions, and Jason turns, looking surprised.

"You're in my dream," both demigods say in unison, and (Y/n) cracks a grin.

(Y/n) and Jason are standing above a drained reflecting pool, long and rectangular. Jason can't tell how deep the pool is, due to the mist filling the bottom. A dirt path lies all the way around, and the house's uneven walls rise on either side. Wolves pace under the archways of rough red volcanic stone.

At the far end of the pool sits a giant she-wolf, several feet taller than the two demigods. Her eyes glow silver into the fog and her coat is the same color as the rocks – warm chocolaty red.

"I know this place," Jason realizes.

(Y/n) glances over at her friend, surprised.

The wolf regards Jason. She doesn't exactly speak, but Jason can understand her. The movements of her ears and whiskers, the flash of her eyes, the way she curls her lips – all a part of her language.

Of course, the she-wolf says. You began your journey here as a pup. Now you must find your way back. A new quest, a new start.

"That isn't fair," Jason replies to the wolf, and (Y/n) figures this is what it would look to others when they saw her talking to Blackjack.

The wolf says: Conquer or die. This is always our way.

Jason wasn't to protest that he can't conquer if she doesn't know who he is, who he was, or where he's supposed to go. But he knows this would. Her name is simply Lupa, the Mother Wolf, the greatest of her kind. Long ago, she'd found him in this place, protected him, nurtured him, chosen him, but if Jason showed weakness, she would tear him to shreds. Rather than being her pup, he would become her dinner. In the wolf pack, weakness is not an option.

"Can you guide me?" Jason asks.

Lupa makes a rumbling noise deep in her throat, and the mist in the pool dissolves.

At first, Jason isn't sure what he's seeing. At opposite ends of the pool two dark spires had erupted from the cement floor lithe drill bits of massive tunneling machines boring through the surface.

(Y/n) can't tell if the spires are made from rock or petrified vines, but they are formed of thick tendrils that come together in a point at the top. Each spire is about five feet tall, but they aren't identical. The one closest to the demigods is darker, and seems like a solid mass, its tendrils fused together. As they watch, it pushes a little farther out of the earth and expands a little wider.

On Lupa's end of the pool, the second spire's tendrils are more open, like the bars of a cage. Inside, (Y/n0 can see a misty figure struggling, shifting within its confines.

"Hera," Jason realizes.

The she-wolf growls in agreement. The other wolves circle the pool, their fur standing up on their backs as they snarl at the spires.

The enemy has chosen this place to awaken her most powerful son, the giant king, Lupa says. Our sacred place, where demigods are claimed – the place of death or life. The burned house. It is an abomination. You must stop her?

"Her?" Jason looks confused. "You mean, Hera?"

The she-wolf gnashes her teeth impatiently. Use your senses, pup. I care nothing for Juno, but if she falls, our enemy wakes. And that will be the end for all of us. You know this place. You can find it again. Cleanse our house. Stop this before it is too late.

The dark spire grows slightly larger, like the bulb of some horrible flower. Jason sense that if it ever opens, it would release something that he did not want to meet.

"Who am I?" Jason asks the she-wolf. "At least tell me that."

Wolves didn't seem to have a sense of humor, but Jason can tell that the question amused Lupa, as though Jason was a cub just trying out his claws, practicing to the alpha male.

You are our saving grace, as always, the she-wolf curls her lip, as if she'd just made a clever joke. Do not fail, Son of Jupiter.

. . .

(Y/n) picks herself off the ground off her cabin.

I have to stop having dreams and flashbacks like this, (Y/n) wipes the blood pouring from her chin.

The main door of the cabin slams open, and (Y/n) opens the door to her room.

"What's going on?" (Y/n) pulls her pen from the pocket of her jeans, uncapping it.

"Hurry!" (Y/n) can't tell if Butch, the Iris camper, was excited or scared. "The dragon is back."

. . .

"Leo?" Piper yells.

Sure enough, there he is, sitting atop a giant bronze death machine and grinning like a lunatic. Even before he lands, the camp alarm goes up. A conch horn blows. All the satyrs start screaming, "Don't kill me!" Half of the camp runs outside in a mixture of pajamas and armor. The dragon sets down right in the middle of the green, and Leo yells, "It's cool! Don't shoot!"

Hesitantly, the archers lower their bows. The warriors back away, keeping their spears and swords ready. They make a loose wide ring around the metal monster. Other demigods hide behind their cabin doors or peep out the windows. Nobody seems anxious to get close.

Piper can't blame them. The dragon is huge, glistening in the morning sun like a living penny sculpture — different shades of copper and bronze — a sixty-foot-long serpent with steel talons and drill-bit teeth and glowing ruby eyes. It had bat-shaped wings twice its length that unfurl like metallic sails, making a sound like coins cascading out of a slot machine every time they flap.

"It's beautiful," Piper murmurs. The other demigods stare at her like she's insane.

The dragon rears its head and shoots a column of fire into the sky. Campers scramble away and heft their weapons, but Leo slides calmly off the dragon's back. He holds up his hands like he is surrendering, except that he still has that crazy grin on his face.

"People of Earth, I come in peace!" he shouts. Leo looks like he'd been rolling around in the campfire. His army coat and his face are smeared with soot. His hands are grease-stained, and he is wearing a new tool belt around his waist. His eyes are bloodshot. His curly hair is so oily it sticks up in porcupine quills, and he smells strangely of Tabasco sauce. But he looks absolutely delighted. "Festus is just saying hello!"

"That thing is dangerous!" an Ares girl shouts, brandishing her spear. "Kill it now!"

"Stand down!" someone orders. To Piper's surprise, it's (Y/n). She pushes through the crowd, slipping her pen into her pocket, flanked by Annabeth, Nyssa, Jason, and Butch.

(Y/n) gazes up at the dragon and shakes her head in amazement. "Leo, what've you done?"

"Found a ride!" Leo beamed, then he glances over at Jason. "You said I could go on the quest if I got you a ride. Well, I got you a class-A metallic flying bad boy! Festus can take us anywhere!"

"It – has wings," Nyssa stammers. Her jaw looks as though it might drop off her face.

"Yeah!" Leo replies. "I found them and reattached them."

"But it never had wings. Where did you find them?"

Leo hesitates, and Piper can tell he is hiding something. "In . . . the woods," he says. "Repaired his circuits, too, mostly, so no more problems with him going haywire."

"Mostly?" Nyssa asks.

The dragon's head twitches. It tilts to one side and a stream of black liquid — maybe oil, hopefully just oil, Piper thinks — pours out of its ear, all over Leo.

"Just a few kinks to work out," Leo grins.

"But how did you survive . . .?" Nyssa is still staring at the creature in awe. "I mean, the fire breath . . ."

"I'm quick," Leo replies. "And lucky. Now, am I on this quest, or what?"

Jason scratches his head. "You named him Festus? You know that in Latin, 'festus' means 'happy'? You want us to ride off to save the world on Happy the Dragon?"

The dragon twitches and shudders and flaps his wings.

"That's a yes, bro!" Leo says. "Now, urn, I'd really suggest we get going, guys. I already picked up some supplies in the — urn, in the woods. And all these people with weapons are making Festus nervous."

Jason frowns. "But we haven't planned anything yet. We can't just—"

"Go," Annabeth says. She is the only one who doesn't look nervous at all. Her expression is sad and wistful, like this reminded her of better times. "Jason, you've only got three days until the solstice now, and you should never keep a nervous dragon waiting. This is certainly a good omen. Go!"

Jason nods. Then he smiles at Piper. "You ready, partner?"

Piper looks at the bronze dragon wings shining against the sky, and the talons that could've shredded her to pieces. "You bet," she says.

. . .

Flying on the dragon has to be the coolest thing I've ever done, Piper thinks.

Up high, the air is freezing cold; but the dragon's metal hide generates so much heat, it is like they are flying in a protective bubble, and the grooves in the dragon's back are designed like high-tech saddles, so they aren't uncomfortable. Leo shows the others how to hook their feet in the chinks of the armor, like in stirrups, and use the leather safety harnesses cleverly concealed under the exterior plating. The demigods sit in single file: Leo in front, then Jason, then Piper, and then (Y/n), and Piper seems hyper aware that (Y/n) is right behind her. Part of her brain wishes that –. Piper cuts off her thoughts, shaking her head.

Leo uses the reins to steer the dragon into the sky like he'd been doing it all his life. The meal wings work perfectly, and soon the coast of Long Island is just a hazy line behind them. They shoot over Connecticut and climb into the gray winter clouds.

Leo grins back at them. "Cool, right?"

"What if we get spotted?" Piper asks.

"The Mist," Jason replies. "It keeps mortals from seeing magic things. If they spot us, they'll probably mistake us for a small plane or something."

Piper glanced over his shoulder. "You sure about that?"

"No," he admits. Then Piper sees he is clutching a photo in his hand — a picture of a girl with dark hair.

She gives Jason a quizzical look, but he blushes and puts the photo in his pocket. "We're making good time. Probably get there by tonight."

Piper wonders who the girl in the picture is, but she doesn't want to ask; and if Jason didn't volunteer the information, that wasn't a good sign. Had he remembered something about his life before? Was that a photo of his real girlfriend? Stop it, she thinks.

Piper asks a safer question. "Where are we heading?"

"To find the god of the North Wind," Jason replies. "And chase some storm spirits."

. . .

"Shut up, me," Leo says aloud, startling (Y/n) a little.

"What?" (Y/n) asks.

"Nothing," Leo replies. "Long night. I think I;m hallucinating. It's cool."

Sitting in front, Leo can't see their faces, but he assumes from their silence that his friends are not pleased to have a sleepless, hallucinating dragon driver.

"Just joking," Leo decides it might be good to change the subject. "So, what's the plan, bro?" Leo asks Jason. "You said something about catching wind, or breaking wind, or something?"

Leo smiles slightly as he hears the snort of laughter that comes from one of his friends – probably (Y/n). He liked joking to make his friends happy.

As they fly over New England, Jason lies out the game plan: First, find some guy named Boreas and grill him for information –

"His name is Boreas?" Leo has to ask. "What is he, the god of Boring?"

Second, Jason continues, they had to find those venti that had attacked them at teh Grand Canyon –

"Can we just call them storm spirits?" Leo asks.

"Venti makes them seem like evil espressos," (Y/n) agrees, and Leo turns to grin at his friend.

And third, Jason finished, they had to find out who the storm spirits worked for, so they could find Hera and free her.

"So you want to look for Dylan, the nasty storm dude, on purpose," Leo said. "The guy who threw me off the skywalk and sucked Coach Hedge into the clouds."

"That's about it," Jason said. "Well ... there may be a wolf involved, too. But I think she's friendly. She probably won't eat us, unless we show weakness."

"So, it was like a weird shared dreamscape," (Y/n) says aloud, and Piper lets out a murmurs of confusion.

Jason and (Y/n) tell Piper and Leo about their dream — the big nasty mother wolf and a burned-out house with stone spires growing out of the swimming pool.

"Uh-huh," Leo says. "But you don't know where this place is."

"Nope," Jason admits.

"There's also giants," Piper adds. "The prophecy said the giants' revenge."

"Hold on," Leo says. "Giants — like more than one? Why can't it be just one giant who wants revenge?"

"I don't think so," Piper says. "I remember in some of the old Greek stories, there was something about an army of giants."

"One to rival each of the gods, like the Titans," (Y/n) adds.

"Great," Leo mutters. "Of course, with our luck, it's an army. So you know anything else about these giants? Didn't you do a bunch of myth research for that movie with your dad, Piper?"

"Your dad's an actor?" Jason asks.

Leo laughs. "I keep forgetting about your amnesia. Heh. Forgetting about amnesia. That's funny. But yeah, her dad's Tristan McLean."

"Uh — Sorry, what was he in?"

"It doesn't matter," Piper says quickly. "The giants — well, there were lots of giants in Greek mythology. But if I'm thinking of the right ones, they were bad news. Huge, almost impossible to kill. They could throw mountains and stuff. I think they were related to the Titans. They rose from the earth after Kronos lost the war — I mean the first Titan war, thousands of years ago — and they tried to destroy Olympus. If we're talking about the same giants —"

"Chiron said it was happening again," Jason recalls. "The last chapter. That's what he meant. No wonder he didn't want us to know all the details."

Leo whistles. "So . . . giants who can throw mountains. Friendly wolves that will eat us if we show weakness. Evil espresso drinks. Gotcha. Maybe this isn't the time to bring up my psycho babysitter."

"Is that another joke?" Piper asks.

Leo tells them about Tia Callida, his evil babysitter, who was really Hera, and how she'd appeared to him at camp. Leo also manages to tell them about the night his mother had died, not mentioning the fire, just that the machine shop had collapsed. It is easier for Leo to tell the story without having to look at his friends, and just keeping his eyes forward as they fly.

And then he tells them about the strange woman in earthen robes who seemed to be asleep, and seemed to know the future.

Leo estimates the whole state of Massachuttes passes below them before his friends speak.

"That's disturbing," Piper says.

"Bout sums it up," Leo agrees. "Thing is, everybody says don't trust Hera. She hates demigods."

(Y/n) laughs bitterly, "You can say that again. She tried to crush me and my friends with a giant statue of herself. Broke my friend Thalia's legs."

Piper glances back at her friend. "You remembered?"

"More of a pass out memory flash," (Y/n) replies, but Piper just looks more confused, but (Y/n) continues, "The prophecy says we'd cause death if we unleash her rage. So why the hell are we doin' this?"

"She chose us," Jason says. "I suspect that Piper, Leo, and I are the first of the seven who have to gather for the Great Prophecy."

(Y/n) adds, "And I think I'm the 'Child of the Sea' that's supposed to 'drop into endless darkness'. Probably hell if I know myself," she jokes, and the others also laugh, and Leo appreciates how easily (Y/n) could put everyone at ease.

"Besides," Jason continues, "helping Hera is the only way (Y/n) and I can get our memories back. And that dark spire in our dream seemed to be feeding off Hera's energy."

(Y/n) nods, "If that thing unleashes a 'king of the giants' by destroying Hera –"

"Not a good trade-off," Piper agrees. "At least Hera is on our side – mostly. Losing her would throw the gods into chaos. She's the main one who keeps peace in the family. And a war with the giants could be even more destructive than the Titan War."

Jason nods. "Chiron also talks about worse forces stirring on the solstice, with it being a good time for dark magic, and all – something that could awaken if Hera were sacrificed on that day. And this mistress who's controlling the storm spirits, the one who wants to kill all the demigods –"

"Might be that weird sleeping lady," (Y/n) finishes.

"Dirt Woman, fully awake?" Leo says. "Not something I want to see."

"But who is she?" Jason asks. "And what does she have to do with the giants?"

All good questions, but none of the demigods have answers. They fly in silence while Leo wonders if he'd done the right thing, sharing so much. He'd never told anyone about that night at the warehouse. Even if he hadn't given them the whole story, it still feels strange, like he'd opened up his chest and taken out all the gears that made him tick. His body is shaking, and not from the cold. He hopes Jason, sitting behind him, can't tell.

The forge and dove shall break the cage. Wasn't that the prophecy line? That meant Leo and Piper would have to figure out how to break into that magic rock prison, assuming they could find it.

Festus keeps flying. The wind gets colder, and below them, snowy forests seem to go on forever. Leo doesn't know exactly where Quebec is – he'd told Festus to take them to the palace of Boreas, and Festus kept going north. Hopefully, the dragon knows the way, and they wouldn't end up at the North Pole.

"Why don't you get some sleep?" Jason says in Leo's ear. "You were up all night."

Leo wants to protest, but the word sleep sound really good. "You won't let me fall off?"

Jason pats his shoulder. "Trust me, Leo."

"Right," he mutters. He leans forward against the warm bronze of the dragon's neck and closes his eyes."

. . .

When Jason shakes Leo awake, the daylight is fading.

"We're here," he says.

Leo rubs the sleep out of his eyes. Below, a city sits on a cliff overlooking a river. The plains around it are dusted with snow, but the city itself glows warmly in the winter sunset. Buildings crowd together inside high walls like a medieval town, way older than anyplace Leo had seen before. In the center is an actual castle – at least Leo assumes it's a castle – with massive red brick walls and a square tower with a peaked, green gabled roof.

"Tell me that's Quebec and not Santa's workshop," Leo says.

"Yeah, Quebec City," Piper confirms. "One of the oldest cities in North America. Founded around sixteen hundred or so?"

Leo raises an eyebrow. "Your dad do a movie about that too?"

(Y/n) laughs while Piper makes a face at him, "I read sometimes, okay?" Piper retorts. "Just because Aphrodite claimed me, doesn't mean I have to be an airhead."

"Feisty!" Leo says. "So you know so much, what's that castle?"

"A hotel, I think."

Leo laughs, "No way."

But as they get closer, the demigods find that Piper is right. The grand entrance is bustling with doormen, valets, and porters taking bags. Sleek black luxury cars idle in the drive. People in elegant suits and winter cloaks hurry to get out of the cold.

"The North Wind is staying in a hotel?" Leo says. "That can't be –"

"Heads up, guys," Jason interrupts. "We got company!"

Leo looks below and sees what Jason means. Rising from the top of the tower are two winged figures – angry angels, with nasty looking swords.

Festus doesn't seem to like the angel guys. He swoops to a halt in midair, wings beating a talons bared, and makes a rumbling sound in his throat that Leo recognizes – the dragon was ready to blow fire.

"Steady, Boy," Leo mutters, patting the dragon's neck. Something tells the son of Hephestus that the angels would not take kindly to getting torched.

"I don't like this," Jason says. "They look like storm spirits."

"The evil espressos," (Y/n) mutters, and Piper glances back at her, amused.

At first, Leo thinks Jason is right, but as the angels get closer, he can see that they are much more solid than venti. They look like regular teenagers except for their icy white hair and feathery purple wings. Their bronze swords are jagged, like icicles. Their faces look similar enough that they might have been brothers, but definitely not twins.

One is the size of an ox, with a bright red hockey jersey, baggy sweatpants, and black leather cleats. The guy clearly had been in too many fights – both eyes are black, and when he bares his teeth, several of them are missing.

The other guys looks like he'd just stepped off of one of Leo's mom's 1980s rock album covers – Journey, maybe, or Hall & Oates. His ice-white hair is long and feathered into a mullet. He wears pointy-toed leather shoes, designer pants that are way too tight, and an awful silk shirt with the top three buttons open. Maybe he thinks he looks like a groovy love got, but the guy couldn't have weighed more than ninety pounds, and a bad case of acne.

The angels pull up in front of the dragon and hover there, swords at the ready.

The 'ox' grunts, "No clearance."

"'Scuse me?" Leo questions.

"You have not flight plan on file," explains the 'groovy love god.' On top of his other problems, he has a French accent so bad (Y/n) is sure it's fake. "This is restricted airspace."

"Destroy them?" The 'ox' shows off his gap-toothed grin.

The dragon begins to hiss steam, ready to defend them.

(Y/n) had summoned her bronze sword, but Leo cries, "Hold on! Let's have some manners here, boys. Can I at least find out who has the honor of destroying me?"

"I am Cal!" the 'ox' grunts. He looks very proud of himself, like he'd taken a long time to memorize that sentence.

"That's short for Calais," the 'love god' says. "Sadly, my brother cannot say words with more than two syllables –"

"Pizza! Hockey! Destroy!" Cal offers.

" – which includes his own name," the 'love god' finishes.

"I am Cal," Cal repeats. And this is Zethes! My brother!"

"Wow," (Y/n) says, her sword shrinking back into a ballpoint pen. "That was almost three sentences, man! Way to go."

Cal grunts, obviously pleased with himself.

"Stupid buffoon," his brother grumbles. "They make fun of you. But no matter. I am Zethes, which is short of Zethes. And the lady there –" he winks at Piper, but the wink is more like a facial seizure. "She can call me anything she likes. Perhaps she would like to have dinner with a famous demigod before we must destroy you?"

Piper makes a sound like gagging on a couch drop. "That's . . . a truly horrifying offer."

"It is no problem," Zethes wiggles his eyebrows. "We are a very romantic people, we Boreads."

"Boreads?" Jason cuts in. "Do you mean, like, the sons of Boreas?"

"Ah, so you've heard of us!" Zethes looks pleased. "We are our father's gatekeepers. So you understand, we cannot have unauthorized people flying in his airspace on creaky dragons, scaring the silly mortal peoples." He points below and (Y/n) sees that the mortals are starting to take notice. Several are pointing up – not with alarm, yet – more with confusion and annoyance, the bronze dragon is a traffic helicopter flying too low.

"Which is sadly why, unless this is an emergency landing," Zethes says, brushing his hair out of his acne-covered face, "we will have to destroy you painfully."

"Destroy!" Cal agrees, with a little more enthusiasm than (Y/n) thinks is necessary.

"Wait!" Piper says. "This is an emergency landing."

"Awww!" Cal looks so disappointed, Leo almost feels sorry for him.

Zethes studies Piper, which of course he'd already been doing. "How does the pretty girl decide this is an emergency, then?"

"We have to see Boreas. It's totally urgent! Please?" She forces a smile, which Leo figures looks been killing her; but she still has that blessing of Aphrodite thing going on, and she looks great. Something about her voice, too — Leo finds himself believing every word. (Y/n) was nodding, looking absolutely convinced.

Zethes picks at his silk shirt, probably making sure it is still open wide enough. "Well . . . I hate to disappoint a lovely lady, but you see, my sister, she would have an avalanche if we allowed you —"

"And our dragon is malfunctioning!" Piper adds. "It could crash any minute!"

Festus shudders helpfully, then turns his head and spills gunk out of his ear, splattering a black Mercedes in the parking lot below.

"No destroy?" Cal whimpers.

Zethes ponders the problem. Then he gives Piper another spasmodic wink. "Well, you are pretty. I mean, you're right. A malfunctioning dragon — this could be an emergency."

"Destroy them later?" Cal offers, which was probably as close to friendly as he ever got.

"It will take some explaining," Zethes decides. "Father has not been kind to visitors lately. But, yes. Come, faulty dragon people. Follow us."

The Boreads sheathes their swords and pull smaller weapons from their belts — or at least Leo thinks they are weapons. Then the Boreads switch them on, and Leo realizes they are flashlights with orange cones, like the ones traffic controller guys use on a runway. Cal and Zethes turn and swoop toward the hotel's tower.

Leo turns to his friends. "I love these guys. Follow them?"

Jason and Piper don't look eager.

"I guess," Jason decides. "We're here now. But I wonder why Boreas hasn't been kind to visitors."

"Pfft, he just hasn't met us." Leo whistles. "Festus, after those flashlights!"

As they get closer, (Y/n) worries that they are going to crash into the tower. The Boreads make right for the green gabled peak and don't slow down. Then a section of the slanted room slides open, revealing an entrance easily wide enough for Festus. The top and bottom are lined with icicles like jagged teeth.

"This cannot be good," Jason mutters, but Leo spurs the dragon downward, and they swoop in after the Boreads.

They land in what must have been the penthouse suite; but the place had been hit by a flash freeze. The entry hall has vaulted ceilings forty feet high, huge draped windows, and lush oriental carpets. A staircase at the back to the room leads up to another equally massive hall, and more corridors branch off to the left and right. But the ice makes the room's beauty a little frightening. When (Y/n) slides off the dragon, the carpet crunches under her feet. A fine layer of frost covers the furniture. The curtains don't budge because they are frozen solid, and the ice-coated windows let in weird watery light from the sunset. Even the ceiling is furry with icicles. As for the stairs, (Y/n) is sure she'd slip and break her neck if she tries to climb them.

"Guys," Leo says, "fix the thermostat in here, and I would totally move in."

"Not me," Jason looks uneasily at the staircase. "Something feels wrong. Something up there . . ."

Festus shudders and snorts flames and frost starts to form on his scales.

"No, no, no," Zethes marches over, though how he could walk in those pointed leather shoes, (Y/n) has no idea. "The dragon must be deactivated. We can't have fire in here. The heat ruins my hair."

"Mine too," (Y/n) jokes, running her hand over her short hair and Piper lets out a snort of laughter.

Festus growls at Zethes and spins his drill-bit teeth.

"S'okay, boy," Leo turns to Zethes. "The dragon's a little touchy about the whole deactivation concept. But I've got a better solution."

"Destroy?" Cal suggests.

"No, man. You gotta stop with the destroy talk. Just wait."

"Leo," Piper says nervously, "what are you –"

"Watch and learn, beauty queen. When I was repairing Festus last night, I found all kinds of buttons. Some, you do not want to know what they do. But others . . . Ah, here we go." Leo hooks his fingers behind the dragon's left foreleg. He pulls a switch, and the dragon shudders from head to toe. Everyone backs away as Festus folds like origami. His bronze plating stacks together. His neck and tail contracts into his body. His wings collapse and his truck compacts until he is a rectangular metal wedge about the size of a suitcase.

Leo tries to lift it, but Festus weighs about six billion pounds. "Um . . . yeah. Hold on. I think – aha." He pushes another button. A handle flips up on the top, and wheels click out on the bottom. "Ta-da!" he announces. "The world's heaviest carry-on bag!"

"That's impossible," Jason says. "Something that big couldn't –"

"Stop!" Zethes orders. He and Cal both draw their swords and glare at Leo.

Leo raises his hands. "Okay ... what'd I do? Stay calm, guys. If it bothers you that much, I don't have to take the dragon as carry-on —"

"Who are you?" Zethes shoves the point of his sword against Leo's chest. "A child of the South Wind, spying on us?"

"What? No!" Leo says. "Son of Hephaestus. Friendly blacksmith, no harm to anyone!"

Cal growls. He puts his face up to Leo's, and he definitely isn't any prettier at point-blank, with his bruised eyes and bashed-in mouth. "Smell fire," he says. "Fire is bad."

Oh." Leo's heart races, "Yeah, well... my clothes are kind of singed, and I've been working with oil, and—"

"No!" Zethes pushes Leo back at sword point. "We can smell fire, demigod. We assumed it was from the creaky dragon, but now the dragon is a suitcase. And I still smell fire . . . on you."

If it hadn't been like three degrees in the penthouse, Leo probably would've started sweating. "Hey . . . look . . . I don't know —" He glanced at his friends desperately. "Guys, a little help?"

(Y/n) already has his pen back in her hand. She steps forward, his eyes on Zethes. "Look, there's been a mistake. Leo isn't a fire guy. Tell them, Leo. Tell them you're not a fire guy."

"Urn ..."

"Zethes?" Piper tries her dazzling smile again, though she looks a little too nervous and cold to pull it off. "We're all friends here. Put down your swords and let's talk."

"The girl is pretty," Zethes admits, "and of course she cannot help being attracted to my amazingness; but sadly, I cannot romance her at this time." He pokes his sword point farther into Leo's chest, and Leo can feel the frost spreading across his shirt, turning his skin numb.

He wishes he could reactivate Festus. He needs some backup. But it would've taken several minutes, even if he could reach the button, with two purple-winged crazy guys in his path.

"Destroy him now?" Cal asks his brother.

Zethes nods. "Sadly, I think —"

"No," (Y/n) insists. She sounds calm enough, but Leo figures she is about two seconds away from uncapping her pen and going into full gladiator mode. "Leo's just a son of Hephaestus. He's no threat. Piper here is a daughter of Aphrodite. Jason's the son of Zeus. I'm a daughter of Poesidon We're on a peaceful . . ."

(Y/n)'s voice falters, because both Boreads had suddenly turned on him.

"What did you say?" Zethes demands, looking at Jason. "You are the son of Zeus?"

"Urn . . . yeah," Jason says. "That's a good thing, right? My name is Jason."

Cal looks so surprised, he almost drops his sword. "Can't be Jason," he says. "Doesn't look the same."

Zethes steps forward and squints at Jason's face. "No, he is not our Jason. Our Jason was more stylish. Not as much as me — but stylish. Besides, our Jason died millennia ago."

"Wait," Jason says. "Your Jason . . . you mean the original Jason? The Golden Fleece guy?"

"Of course," Zethes says. "We were his crewmates aboard his ship, the Argo, in the old times, when we were mortal demigods. Then we accepted immortality to serve our father, so I could look this good for all time, and my silly brother could enjoy pizza and hockey."

"Hockey!" Cal agrees.

"But Jason — our Jason — he died a mortal death," Zethes says. "You can't be him."

"I'm not," Jason agrees.

"So, destroy?" Cal asks. Clearly the conversation is giving his two brain cells a serious workout.

"No," Zethes says regretfully. "If he is a son of Zeus, he could be the one we've been watching for."

"Watching for?" Leo asks. "But you mean like in a good way: you'll shower him with fabulous prizes? Or watching for like in a bad way: he's in trouble?"

A girl's voice says, "That depends on my father's will."

Leo looks up the staircase. His heart nearly stops. At the top stands a girl in a white silk dress. Her skin is unnaturally pale, the color of snow, but her hair is a lush mane of black, and her eyes were coffee brown. She focuses on Leo with no expression, no smile, no friendliness. But it doesn't matter. Leo is in love. She is the most dazzling girl he'd ever seen.

Then she looks at Jason, (Y/n), and Piper, and seems to understand the situation immediately. "Father will want to see the one called Jason," the girl says.

"Then it is him?" Zethes asks excitedly.

"We'll see," the girl says. "Zethes, bring our guests."

Leo grabs the handle of his bronze dragon suitcase. He isn't sure how he'd lug it up the stairs, but he has to get next to that girl and ask her some important questions — like her e-mail address and phone number.

Before he can take a step, she freezes him with a look. Not literally frozen, but she might as well have.

"Not you, Leo Valdez," she says.

In the back of his mind, Leo wonders how she knows his name; but mostly he is just concentrating on how crushed he felt.

"Why not?" He probably sounds like a whiny kindergartner, but he couldn't help it.

"You cannot be in the presence of my father," the girl says. "Fire and ice — it would not be wise."

"We're going together," Jason insists, putting his hand on Leo's shoulder, "or not at all."

The girl tilts her head, like she isn't used to people refusing her orders. "He will not be harmed, Jason Grace, unless you make trouble. Calais, keep Leo Valdez here. Guard him, but do not kill him."

Cal pouts. "Just a little?"

"No," the girl insists. "And take care of his interesting suitcase, until Father passes judgment."

Jason, (Y/n), and Piper look at Leo, their expressions asking him a silent question: How do you want to play this?

Leo feels a surge of gratitude. They are ready to fight for him. They wouldn't leave him alone with the hockey ox. Part of him wants to go for it, bust out his new tool belt and see what he could do, maybe even summon a fireball or two and warm this place up. But the Boread guys scare him. And that gorgeous girl scares him more, even if he still wants her number.

"It's fine, guys," he says. "No sense causing trouble if we don't have to. You go ahead."

"Listen to your friend," the pale girl says. "Leo Valdez will be perfectly safe. I wish I could say the same for you, son of Zeus. Now come, King Boreas is waiting."

Word Count: 6249 words

​​Taglist: @camaddison​ ​​@steinfellds ​​@p-taryn-dactyl​ ​​@oculusalien​ ​​@pink-widows​ @unlikelysublimekryptonite @decadentrebelkitten @eevil-empress @anteroz​ @mag-mfm @26randomness @cair-paravel-narniaia​ @hayhaythegaygay

[bioshoook]

There's Beasts and Then There's Prey

summary: Dave's about to find out that if you fuck with one of the Dogs then you fuck with the whole pack. word count: 2,569

Finding a bar in this city is like trying to get a ticket while driving on the Los Santos Freeway. Easy.

The tricky part is finding a bar that has more than one good light bulb in the whole joint and that doesn't smell too much like stale beer and piss.

Though they all call Los Santos their home, and have done so for numerous years, Michael's the most familiar with the city and its many creature comforts. He was the one to originally find their headquarters in an abandoned dog shelter and he was the one to find this bar a few months ago. It was one of the bars that had more of a relaxed air to it, more fitting for shooting the shit than the energized air of a club or the darker, uneasy atmosphere of one of the seedier bars they frequented to discuss business.

For about an hour the four of them trade talk over a few drinks before taking their conversation to the nearby vacant pool table.

A few rounds in and a guy that Joe can't remember the name of; Dave? Dan? Donny maybe? joins them. He states that he’s a decent player and he doesn’t have many people to call friends in the city at the moment. Dan seems chill enough, he’s not triggering any alarm bells in their heads, looks to be just some middle-aged dude out on the town for the night.

The pack has no problem playing nice with others, as long as they don’t start any shit with them.

They joke about the word ‘pack’, tossing it around flippantly and saying it's just used to follow their gimmick, but even though Joe has only been in with the Mad Dogs crew for a year now he really does feel like that’s what this group is. A pack. In all of his criminal history he's never had anyone he's trusted to have his back more than the three men surrounding the pool table.

Michael, their muscle and lead (read only) demolitions expert, tosses back the last of his beer before lining up his cue.

“This is the one boys, can feel it in my bones,” Michael says, all confidence in the stance he takes on.

He sends the cue ball rolling and breaks apart the rack of striped and solid colored balls, the clack of them hitting each other filling the air of their tucked away corner. The pool balls scatter across the green felt of the pool table, dispersed by the momentum of the cue ball. Although Michael sends them all rolling, not a single one makes it into one of the pockets bordering the table.

“Fuck,” Michael mutters under his breath.

“Not bad, not bad, but let me show you how it's really done,” Trevor says cheekily. The frontman and leader of their crew drapes his body over the pool table before smoothly lining up with his stick in a fluid motion. He takes a few seconds to relax before sending the cue ball in a way that gets two stripes to roll into the corner of the table, dropping into the pocket below one after the other. He ends up knocking two more balls into their pockets before he finally misses a shot, ending his turn.

“Show off,” Michael comments with a grin. Trevor just shrugs his shoulders with a smirk on his face that gets a chuckle out of Alfredo.

Alfredo has chosen to opt out of the game this time, which Joe counts as a win in itself seeing as their marksman is entirely too steady when it comes to his hands and his aim. Don’t get him wrong, Joe’s grateful for it when it comes to keeping people off their backs in a deal or keeping a steady eye on them from above, but he absolutely rinsed the rest of them in the last round they played. Joe's $100 bill is currently sitting comfy in the pocket of Fredo's jeans and he doubts he'll be getting that back. Should’ve known better, he should've thrown in a $20 instead.

Donny laughs easily at Trevor's coy gesture. “Good one, man.”

“So, you from around here Dave?” Michael asks as the other man lines up his shot.

Dave. So that's his name.

A solid blue ball rolls and banks off of the left side of the table before sinking into a corner pocket.

“Actually I’m from out of state. Just moved down here with the wife a couple weeks ago,” Dave replies.

“Oh yeah? What - you just saw all the shit that happens here on the news and decided to move here?” Michael asks jokingly.

Dave laughs in response and goes on to explain how they ended up moving here because of a transfer in his wife’s location for her job.

“I mean, it’s good that she got a promotion and all, we need the money, but I feel like she’s holding it over my head now. I’m the one who has to pick up the kids and cook dinner and all the shit she should be doing. And- and- she makes more money than me now. What the hell is up with that?”

Joe cuts his eyes towards Dave, noticing the eyebrows that Michael raises behind him as the man leans over the table to make his next shot.

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