#Smart Flip Mirror Stand

[ambersinterlude]

Submission Hold

Word Count : 1.4k

Jey Uso x Reader

Warnings : age gap (reader is 22), anal play, pure smut

OMNISCIENT |

You were always running your mouth. That’s what started it.

You’d been backstage at Raw, cocky off a clean win, still glistening with sweat and adrenaline when you started teasing Jey. “That was cute, old man,” you smirked, watching him unwrap his tape.

“Think you can keep up with the young ones like me much longer?”

He raised one eyebrow. You knew that look.

“Old man, huh?” he repeated slowly, stepping closer. “Bet I could still tap your cocky little ass out faster than anybody in that locker room.”

“Oh yeah?” you challenged, biting your lip. “Prove it.”

That’s how the bet started. A friendly spar after hours. First one to get pinned taps out and takes a punishment.

You were fast. Smart. Bratty. Thought you could outmaneuver him.

But Jey Uso was 39, seasoned, and every inch of his body moved like it knew yours—like he’d studied your weaknesses just to break you. He toyed with you for ten minutes before flipping you onto your stomach, face pressed to the mat, your ass in the air. His body was a furnace against yours, heavy, hard, locked in place. His hand pinned both wrists above your head.

“You still runnin’ that mouth?” he whispered against your ear. “Huh, baby?”

You tapped. And immediately regretted it when he grinned.

“Pack your shit,” he said, standing up. “We got dinner plans. You gonna wear somethin’ tight… and what I give you underneath it.”

──

Hours later, you were in the hotel bathroom, palms braced on the counter, panting as jey held you still while inching the plug inside of your second hole—metallic, rose gold, curved just right. Your walls clenched as he eased it in, gasping softly when it popped into place. Jey then slipped the vibrating panties over your thighs. Sleek black, nearly invisible under the tight dress.

You met your own gaze in the mirror, flushed and flustered, chest rising and falling fast. Your pierced nipples peeked through the sheer mesh of your bra.

Behind you, Jey leaned in and tugged your hair to tilt your head back. “Such a pretty lil thing,” he growled. “Full of attitude til it’s time to obey.”

He held up the remote and. “You ready?”

“No,” you whispered as you bit your lip nervously.

He smirked. “Too bad.”

──

The restaurant was upscale, dimly lit, gold accents and crystal chandeliers casting a warm glow. Your heels clicked on the marble floor as the host guided you to a booth in the corner. Private. Cozy. Dangerous.

You tried to act normal. Legs crossed, hands folded. But the plug pulsed low in your ass, and your clit buzzed with every flick of the panties. He didn’t hit you with full power—no, Jey was mean. He kept it just enough to keep you needy. Dripping. On edge.

He sipped his whiskey and smirked at your squirming. “Table too cold or you just achin for attention?”

You glared, voice low. “I hate you.”

“You love me.”

Then he turned the intensity up—slow, steady vibration that made your thighs tremble. Your mouth fell open in a soft gasp. You bit your lip and glanced around. A couple sat one table over. A waiter passed behind you.

“Jey,” you hissed. “Someone’s gonna notice—”

He leaned over the table, voice low and full of threat. “That’s the point. You wanna act like a brat, baby girl? You better learn how to cum quiet.”

You tried. You really did. But by the time dessert arrived, you were shaking, thighs clamped tight. The plug throbbed deep. The panties buzzed mercilessly. And then—he hit the pulse setting.

Your orgasm hit like a wave—slow and intense. You squeezed your eyes shut and moaned low into your wine glass as your body twitched.

“Good girl,” he murmured, brushing your hand beneath the table. “That sweet pussy’s dripping for me isn’t she?”

You whimpered. The waiter showed up just as you tried to compose yourself, cheeks flushed, dress sticking to your damp thighs.

You were wrecked. And he was smug.

──

He drove the car himself. One hand on the wheel. The other on your thigh.

“You still got one more mess in you before we hit the hotel,” he said, rubbing slow circles. “C’mere. Be a good girl. Show daddy how deep that throat is.”

Unbuckling your seatbelt, you leaned over like you’d done it a thousand times, releasing him and dragging your tongue along the thick vein of his shaft. He hissed when you swallowed him halfway, fingers threading into your hair.

“Don’t stop,” he grunted as he bucked his hips up. “Fuck. You sucking my shit up baby.” At this point, Jey’s hand was wrapped in your hair.

You moaned around him, spit dripping down your chin, his dick hitting the back of your throat as the plug inside you kept pulsing. Every bump in the road jolted the toy deeper. You gagged, and he growled.

“That’s it. That’s my fuckin good girl.”

He came down your throat right as you turned into the hotel garage—and made you swallow every drop. You lifted yourself up and smiled innocently at him.

──

As soon as the suite door shut, he slammed you against the wall.

“Strip.”

You peeled the dress off slowly, shaking with need. Your nipples stood hard and pierced, and he groaned at the sight.

“Fuck. Look at those pretty tits.” He dropped to his knees, tongue lapping at your pierced nipples, fingers working the plug out of you with a wet pop.

“Turn around”

Turning around you see yours and his reflection in the floor length mirror. He walked up slowly behind you.

“You want it?”

“Yes” you responded with a slight whimper.

“You better take all this shit”

“Put your hands behind your back”

As you did so, he slightly bent you over. Pulling your panties down and teasingly pulling at the plug. You moaned as he fully removed it. He then pulled out his dick and slid right in—slow, deliberate strokes that made your reflection rattle. He didn’t even give you a chance to adjust. He stared at the mirror as he fucked you hard, one hand tangled in your hair, the other on your throat.

“Look at you. So cocky earlier… now you just a fuckin’ mess.”

As their gazed locked in the mirror he stared beating her insides. The room was filled with skin slapping, and your moans.

“D-daddy” you moaned. He was pummeling your pussy. Hitting that spongy spot. You couldn’t take it.

Soon enough you squirted on his dick and all over the floor. He laughed.

“There she go.”

Legs trembling he shoved his thumb into your ass mid-stroke. You screamed.

Then he pulled out completely. Holding tightly onto you to ensure you didn’t fall. As yall walked over to the bed. You immediately knew what to do. Getting on all fours.

Jey comes behind you, stroking his dick. Looking at your second hole clench around nothing. He snickered to himself as he slapped your backside causing you to jolt foward and whine

“Be still.” He growled

You soon felt his tip inching inside of your second whole. You gasped.

“B-baby” you moaned, looking back at him with watery eyes.

“You like that nasty shit, huh?”

You nodded, crying, voice cracked. “Yes—please—fuck, I can’t take it daddy.. i can’t”

You pushed at his abdomen. Jey didn’t like that. He grabbed your wrist and pinned it behind your back.

“You’re gonna take it. You gonna take all of it.”

He slipped the tip out of your second hole and flipped you on your side. Slow, grinding strokes as he pushed his thumb your mouth and you gladly sucked on it.

“You’re mine. All mine.”

He removed his thumb out of your mouth following behind roughly grabbing your jaw. “Open wide for me baby”

Being the good girl you were, you opened up for him. Letting his spit hit the back of your throat. You happily swallowed.

“Mmmm” you moaned while staring back at jey who was pummeling your pussy.

Jey looked down watching you cream all over him. Her legs shaking.

“Look at you, creaming all over this dick. You love creaming on daddy dick?” He asked as his strokes became rougher.

He was fucking you so good, you couldn’t even respond. You didn’t even comprehend anything he had said.

“I asked you a fucking question! Huh? You love creaming on this dick” as he grabbed your throat and brought your face closer to his. So close you could feel his breath on your lips.

“Ugnhh- yes d-daddy! I love creaming on your dick— ohmygodd”

He fucked you all night—from the mirror to the bed, backshots that made the headboard slam, deep strokes with his hand gripping your throat, spitting in your mouth, cum leaking out of both holes.

──

The next morning you woke up in his arms, legs sore, body wrecked.

He kissed your shoulder, warm and soft now, thumb tracing lazy circles over your thigh.

“You okay, baby girl?” he whispered, voice gentle.

You nodded, voice raw. “Mhm.”

“Need anything?”

“Water. A hug. A new spine.”

He laughed and pulled you closer, kissing the back of your neck.

“Next time,” he whispered, “you better win the bet.”

─────────────────────────

Published : 04/25/25

Okay guys, i really hope yall liked this. Again im a new writer so not too much on me lmaoo but yeah. I really hope you guys enjoyed lmkkk😘

[starkeyvhs]

no. 1 party anthem — chapter I

PAIRING: drew starkey x tennis player!reader 

CHAPTER WARNINGS: high school au; banter between drew and reader; one (1) suggestive joke (? if it even counts lol); reader and drew love frank ocean lol; minor swearing

WORD COUNT: 2.4k

EDITH SPEAKS: I hope you all enjoy reading this! let me know any thoughts you may have :) I hope this chapter gives a good insight into what reader and drew’s dynamic is like LOL, anyways all kinds of reblogs and feedbacks are always highly appreciated!

series masterlist / join my taglist 

— APRIL, 2012

The chatter fills the inconveniently tiny dressing room, students in extravagant costumes and extravagant makeup to match their clothes frantically running around, trying to get everything ready at the last minute. Some are mumbling their dialogues over and over under their breath as if it’s some mantra, some are practicing their specific actions for their role, and some are simply chill. 

Like Mr. Joseph. 

Drew sits in front of his vanity flipping through his script casually, as if he really doesn’t have the most important role in the play, the warm glow of the bulbs around the mirror only highlighting his makeup more.

“Romeo!” 

He looks up, his lips morphing into a smile on their own when he sees you. 

You reach up to him and give him a firm slap on his back – something he’s used to, and would never admit to your face that it’s actually hard – a big grin on your face. 

“Here to wish you to break a leg,” you say, resting your arm on his shoulder as you look at him sitting as you stand next to him. 

“Yeah thanks,” he smiles back, keeping his script on the table in front of him. 

“You excited? You’re playing your dream role,” you say back, looking at his reflection in the mirror of him, eyeing his Romeo outfit. 

“Uh huh yes I am,” he says, looking at his reflection too, and once running his hand through his hair to fix it. 

“Bet you’re excited more about kissing Ms. Cindy on the stage,” you tease, flicking his ear. 

His smile falls and his cheeks begin flushing a pink at your words, and what sucks even more is that he can’t even deny it. 

“Shut up,” he mumbles, distracting himself with his script again. 

You laugh, snatching the script from his hand and ignoring his protests by keeping it out of your reach. 

“Oh come on,” you drawl, “I know you are.” You move closer to him, your lips almost brushing his ear as you grin wickedly at his reflection. “You know, even some girls wouldn’t mind getting a taste of her,”

“Yeah okay that’s enough,” he says almost immediately, abruptly standing up from his chair as he clears his throat. 

You can’t control your laughter as Drew begins to make his way towards where all the actors required for the first act are assembling, you right on his heels. 

“Okay leave that,” you say, “but did you even think about how your parents, and all your little siblings are out there, and are going to watch you get a lip action with Ms. Queen Bee?” 

Drew’s walking immediately stops and he turns around to look at you. He can’t get mad at you; ever, actually, but there’s something about that annoying smirk on your smart mouth that’s getting to him. 

You can see he’s getting flustered, so you take the bait, of course. “You didn’t, did you?” And you laugh that same laugh each time you tease him: which is almost every minute of every hour you spend together. 

“Ugh shut up,” he groans, shutting his eyes and tipping his head back. “You know those little nasty buggers won’t ever stop teasing me, ever,” he mumbles under his breath. 

“I know, that’s why I’m going to feed this bit of information that it’s also your first kiss to them,” you grin. 

Drew’s eyes widen, a fair hint of warning in them, but before he can say or do anything, you’re rushing to the exit of the dressing room. 

“Alright that’s it, good luck!” You say out loud, your voice carrying a sing-song tone as you slip out the door. 

Drew takes a moment to regain himself, shaking his head at your antics. He knows you like to mess around a lot, and he also knows about how much you value loyalty in friendships, so even though you said you’ll tell his little siblings about his first kiss being on the final play of his senior year in front of a massive crowd, you actually won’t do it. The thought relieves him immensely, before he redirects his focus back at what he’s actually here for. 

He can hear the chatter of the crowd reducing and slowly reaching a bare minimal level, meaning the play is about to start. 

Their teacher gives them some final instructions, giving them all words of encouragement as her last words, before allowing the first act to begin. 

Drew lets out a deep breath. 

Alright, here goes nothing.

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

“There he is! Our superstar!” 

Drew’s family’s cheers only get louder as they watch him come into the crowd from the backstage. All the actors are with their families now, greeting them and receiving gifts and compliments, and Drew definitely isn’t going to get something less. 

He laughs as he joins everyone, his parents being the first ones to hug him. 

“You kissed a girl on stage,” his youngest sister teases, a big grin on her face and his other two siblings giggle with her. He rolls his eyes at them, grumbling a small ‘shut up’ under his breath. 

His eyes find yours, seeing you silently laughing at the entire scene. He shakes his head at you and sticks his tongue out, walking closer to you. 

“Joseph that was great,” you smile, and you give him the bouquet you got for him. 

“You got me flowers?” He grins, taking the bouquet of fresh white lilies and sniffing them. “Why, aren’t you a softie?” 

“Shut up,” you mumble, smacking his arm playfully. He only laughs at you. 

“Well, thank you sweetheart,” he grins, the nickname slipping out with a gentle ease. It doesn’t happen often, but when it does, it just always seems so natural the way it rolls off his tongue. 

You only playfully roll your eyes at him, ignoring the gentle tingling feeling in your tummy from how perfect that nickname sounds in his voice. 

After that, he’s quick to be by your side, his arm around your shoulders as you two walk out the theatre. 

“So, you up for a drive?” He asks you, “I talked to mom, she’s okay with it,” 

“Oh yeah,” you say, “sure,” you smile. 

You walk out to the parking lot, where your car is parked. You toss your keys to Drew and he sits in the driver’s seat, you next to him in the passenger’s seat. He drives out of the parking lot of the school, making his way onto the main roads. 

You and Drew like to take drives together often. He takes control of the wheel and just drives around roads, your favourite music playing and you both talking about everything. Or sometimes, instead of talking, you opt to stay quiet, which is needed at its own times.

“So, tell me,” you say, your car’s windows rolled down, allowing fresh air to whip past you two inside. “How was your experience playing Romeo and kissing Cindy on stage,” you grin. Your phone – which is connected to the car’s speakers – plays Blonde, right from the first track. 

Drew groans, his focus on the road in front of him. “You know, you really need to drop that entire Cindy thing. It was just a peck,” he says. 

“Peck? A peck? Mister you were making out! You weren’t starring in some adult version of Romeo and Juliet mind you,” you shoot back, but your grin doesn’t wipe off. 

“Ugh whatever,” he mumbles, his gaze not wavering from the view in front of him. You sigh quietly, relaxing against the seat. 

“No but seriously, Drew,” you begin speaking, your voice taking a softer tone, “you were really good. Like, seriously, you were… amazing. That was really some Broadway level acting right there,” 

Drew remains quiet and you look at him, watching how his lips slowly curve into a small smile. 

“Is that so?” He asks, his own voice slightly soft. 

“Yeah,” you smile, “I was… amazed. You’ve done so many plays for the school and I always tell you how good you’ve been, but this one… you were exceptional,” 

A bashful expression takes over Drew’s face, and you watch how a soft blush sprinkles his cheeks and a gentle smile only widens on his lips. 

“I… I worked hard for this one,” he says, taking a glance at you before focusing back on the road, “like, I really did. We used to have 5 hour rehearsals for days on end and…” he lets out a deep breath, a small silence falling over you two, only Frank’s voice to accompany you, “yeah.” He chuckles softly. “It was draining, but it was fun,” 

“You know what I think?” You begin speaking, and he hums in response. “I think you can make it. Like, to Hollywood, or Broadway, or maybe both. I really think you can,”

Drew lets out a small laugh at your words. “Hollywood? Broadway? I have a one in a million chance to make that, you know,” he chuckles. 

“I know, and I really do think that one chance is all yours,” you speak. Drew can hear the conviction in your words, the way you’re still saying how you believe he can make it even when he made a small joke to lighten the mood. 

Drew catches another glance of you before focusing back on the empty road in front of him. “You really think so?” He mumbles softly. “I can make it? I can be a Hollywood star?” 

There is a hopeful glint to Drew’s voice, as if what you say is what always turns true. 

“Yeah,” you smile softly, “I really think you can. Just think: Joseph Starkey, biggest actor of all time. I can imagine your face plastered on billboards everywhere,” 

He laughs at your words. “Joseph Starkey sounds dorky. I think I’ll let my name be Drew Starkey instead,” 

“Okay okay, Drew Starkey does it too,” you laugh. “But, whatever the name will be, trust me, if you work for it, you’re gonna get it,” 

Drew smiles at you, and you lean back against your seat, looking out as you watch all the houses and trees whip by, Solo playing on the speakers. 

“You know,” he begins speaking after a moment or two of silence, and you turn your head to look at him, “you’re probably the only one who really believes in me that way. I mean, yeah, my family does too but, it’s different with you,” he says softly, “which, is why I want you to be the first person who I tell this to,” 

You furrow your brows at his words and sit up straighter in the seat, looking at him. “Yeah what is it?” You ask. 

“When the play finished and all of us were backstage,” he begins, and you watch him speak from his side, “Ms. Lydia bought this man there. He is the owner of this huge film camp that he organises each year for the summers, and… along with a select few, I was offered to attend this camp,”

Your eyes widen at his words. “What? Oh my god dude that’s insane!” You exclaim. “Tell me you’re going, you have to go!” 

Drew softly laughs at your excitement, catching a glimpse of your elated expression. “Well, missy, it’s not here, it’s in Boston, so that means I’ll be away for the entire summer,” 

For a moment, Drew doesn’t hear anything from your end. He turns to look at you, and when he does, he realises he can’t really pinpoint the expression on your face. Your lips are slightly parted: but besides that, there’s no other emotion present. 

“What?” He chuckles, now looking back at the road. “Don’t go all mute on me, say something,” 

“So that’s… three months in Boston,” you say slowly, almost cautiously, as if you’re testing the words on your tongue. 

“Yeah, three months in Boston,” he repeats. “Oh come on, don’t say you’ll miss me or some shit. Such a sap,” 

“What? No, who said that?” You retort back immediately, and Drew chuckles at your attempt to deflect facing your actual feelings. “It’s that I’m worried, you know?”

“Uh huh, how so if I may ask?” He asks amusedly, shaking his head at your antics. 

“I’m worried ’cause uh… A: you’ll be going so far from home on your own for the very first time,” you begin, “and… and B, you won’t know how to do your… laundry,” you finish lamely. 

“Laundry?” Drew chuckles amusedly. “I know how to use a washing machine, you know? I think me and my laundry will be absolutely fine,” 

“Okay, well that’s… that’s good to know you have all that in check,” you mumble under your breath, turning to look back out the car. You can hear Drew silently laughing to himself at your ‘concerns’ regarding him, and you force yourself to keep on ignoring it. 

“Well,” Drew is the one to break the silence. Your ears perk up at his voice but you don’t turn to look at him. “I’ll miss you, a lot,” He says, and his voice is toned down, and is incredibly tender. 

Drew knows what you’ll do: you’ll take his words and turn them into your advantage, a sinister smile curving your beautiful lips, and you’ll laugh that pretty laugh, and call him a ‘softie’ or a ‘sap’ and tease him endlessly. 

But, you don’t. 

“I’ll miss you too,” are the words which leave your lips instead, and Drew is taken aback. He keeps his emotions in check though, keeping a straight face as he keeps on driving. 

You both fall silent yet again, and all that’s accompanying you this time is Self Control playing. The melancholic rhythm along with its soulful lyrics and Frank’s voice really isn’t doing much to subdue the sudden awkward silence between the two of you. 

“But…” Drew begins to speak, “I still don’t know if I’ll attend it, you know? I mean, I still have to consider it with my parents and… and yeah, all that jazz,” he says with a short chuckle. 

“Uh yeah, yeah yeah that makes sense,” you say, trying to uplift the mood in the car. “But… you should go, it’s a very good opportunity for you,” 

Drew catches a glimpse of you and passes you a small smile, which you return. He focuses back on the road, and you opt to look back out of the car, your head resting back against the seat. 

Usually, he sometimes yearns for this kind of silence with you, because it’s comforting, and even when he knows something’s bothering him, realising you’re by his side automatically makes the problem seem smaller. 

Each other’s presence, the weight of the unsaid words and Frank’s singing is all you have with you, as Drew continues to drive on your usual route. 

⊹₊⋆.˚୨୧⋆.˚₊ ⊹

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[kaxela]

✰ kuroo tetsuro as your tutor ✰

⊹ ࣪ ˖ your classmate kuroo, was willing to give you his wisdom on how to ace an exam ; 📝 comfort n' fluff SFW "how do you pass an exam? easy, just talk to the cute boy in your class."

a/n ugh, sry if this story isn't good. i just wanted to write something (about my man). heh. not proofread.

your homeroom teacher noticed how your score was getting way too much marks than usual. your bad performance could be from stress, difficulty, or just life kicking your ass. you obviously wanted to better transform your academics. the first solution that was offered to you was to attend actual afterschool tutoring. however, you explained how you had no one to take you to the lessons. your teacher then came up with a simple plan B and that was to sit you right next to kuroo tetsuro. you're not sure why teachers do this. they sit the failing student next to the a+ student and expect the magic to happen.

from a surface level, you knew that kuroo was an athlete. specifically, nekoma's reowned volleyball captain. he's labeled as mature, smart, and some girls in your grade have a crush on him.

💬 first impression.

the following day, he placed you right next to him. you were observing to why this guy is top of the class. nothing seems out of the ordinary with this man until he opens his mouth:

"yaku, you know if you eat a watermelon seed. it'll grow inside of your stomach?"

"i'm not a kid anymore, i'm not falling for that blatant dumbass lie." yaku snares right back at him.

kuroo leans his chair towards him, pointing to yaku's head. "are you sure it just didn't grow in your head? your head is massive."

yaku immediately hits kuroo's head into his desk. he hysterically dies of laughter as yaku curses under his breath. you were so shocked watching this all enfold in front of you. you admit, it was a little funny.

perhaps kuroo isn't a bad guy though because soon right after their fight, he kept apologizing to yaku and begged him to talk to him.

but. . .is this dude really the top student in your class.

✶⋆.˚ life saver.

you were spaced out in class. you had lack of rest the other night, all you can think about is falling asleep. your class was going over a reading on biology, but information just went in one ear and out the other. in your peripheral vision, you begin to notice multiple raised-hands fly up in the air.

you suddenly hear your name being called out. crap, your teacher must have picked on you because you were the only one not raising their hand.

you stand up awkwardly and smile. your teacher then asks,

"so. which form of cellular respiration produces the most ATP?"

you feel all choked up and flip your page back and forth hoping to get a last minute clue. suddenly, a hand appears on your book. kuroo, highlights with a marker on a piece of text of what you believe to be the answer.

"aerobic! aerobic cellular respiration." you answer, and it was correct.

you sit back down and sigh in relief. you curl a smile on your lips and whisper thank you. his spiky dark hair covered his eyes a little, but you saw how friendly and warm his gaze was towards you. he couldn't help but to mirror a smile right back at you.

"anytime."

✎ᝰ well acquainted.

it went from saying hi to each other every morning, sharing your school supplies, and to studying notecards together. i guess your teacher's plan really did work.

you were walking down the hallway back to your class because you forgot something in your bag. when you got there, you were surprised to see the man you see every single morning.

he was sitting in his lonesome. his posture was well fixed, with his palm resting on his chin. he was scribbling away on his paper. (most likely some really smart equations or well-written notes). you think to yourself how handsome he really is. i guess it isn't too taboo why so much girls find him attractive.

you go up to him and tap him on the shoulder. a little startled, he flinches.

"ahh, hey you." he smiles, his pen stops moving and he turns his head to have his full attention onto you.

you sigh and pull a chair to the side to sit next to him. as expected, you peer over to see a lot of work done on his paper.

"tell me your secret, kuroo." you crook your head to the side, "how do you study and understand? i'm not smart like you so-"

kuroo furiously shakes his head to your self-deprecating comment. he releases the pen from his grip. he puts his fingers on his chin as if he's pondering.

"you're passionate about your interests, right?"

you nod in attune.

unexpectedly, kuroo leans his body towards you. the eye contact you had with each other was unwavering. this honestly made you so nervous. your breathing hitches a little, but you try to make it steady.

"find passion in doing the hard work, it will eventually pay off. your body and mind are supposed to be in cohesion within one another, okay? so don't be your own enemy. my next advice is that you can take deep breaths, it'll maximize the functionality of your brain."

kuroo leans right back into his seat. "so, you're fine. just breathe. besides, you showed me your score on your last test. you got most of them right. i'm proud of you."

as soon as he mentioned 'just breathe' you swear he noticed you being all nervous. you move a strand behind your ear and smile once again. you feel as if your heart was swelling up with joy. he’s right, you were improving. it's mostly thanks to kuroo's support.

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

bonus read: (perfect if you wear glasses)

you and kuroo were studying in the library together. your table was coupled with a lot of papers, textbooks, and some drinks from a nearby convenience store to keep you guys going.

as you were examining the text, you couldn't make out what was printed. so you take out your reading glasses and everything became much more coherent. kuroo immediately takes notice of you in glasses. he thought you were so pretty. you exuded intelligent, yet an elegant energy.

kuroo stares at your face intently. you look right back at him and push your glasses up on the bridge of your nose.

"do i look different or something?"

"yeah, you look so pr-can i borrow those frames for a second." kuroo nervously chuckles.

you swear you heard him say something else, but you shrug it off. you hand over the pair to kuroo and he places it on his face.

you didn't want to say anything at all, but your face probably gave it all away. he was so. damn. good-looking. the black frames just complimented him all too well. he needs to start wearing glasses more . . .

⋆. 𐙚 ˚

the first thing that came into his mind is how glasses oddly reminded him of tsukki.

[wanderingblindly]

congratulations on the milestones! incredibly well-deserved. you’re a top-tier writer & a pillar of the fandom :)

for the prompt celebration — any drivers (ideally with at least a splash of lando/oscar, if the spirit moves you), with the setting prompt “a cramped [theater] dressing room”.

a PILLAR 😭😭😭😭 what if i sobbbbb thank you so much my love!! i'm so thankful to have such wonderful people here to enjoy fandom with, i'm all emotional now waaaahhhhhhhhh I hope you enjoy the slightly-too-long drabble!! in my head they're like, small time models at an on-location gig, hence why they've been shoved in a dressing room. But you could probably imagine it for a theater production too! Celebratory prompt list here!

Stuck Together

"Can you stand up straight, I'm –"

"I need to do my hair," Lando snaps, face two inches from the mirror – tossing a quick glare over his shoulder. "Quit bumping into me."

"Well I'm trying to get into these – these fucking –" Oscar stutters, hunched over and bouncing on one foot as he nearly topples over. "The fucking leather –"

"You've gotta sit down for leather trousers, mate," Lando says, and Oscar groans.

"Yeah, lots of room to sit, thanks."

Lando starts to turn to say something back, snarky and annoying, when Oscar stumbles – falling to the side and smacking himself into the wall with a gasp. "Christ, mate, don't frickin' break something."

"Haven't got a lot of time, ok?" Oscar lets himself stay propped against the wall, struggling to work the stiff leather up his calves; his hair – yet to be touched by the stylists – flops over his eyes, his cheeks have gone pink with stress.

Maybe a bit of heat.

It's getting warm.

Lando looks away from the mirror, away from where Oscar's struggling a few inches behind him. His heart rate spiked when he saw Oscar's shoulders – bare, his shirt still hung up on the hooks along the wall – flex as he stumbled, when he noticed the dusting of freckles on his skin.

"Um," Lando says lamely, uncertain why his mouth's suddenly gone dry. "Lemme –" He brings a knee up onto the narrow vanity, wincing a little the edge digs into his skin. Pressing a hand against the mirror for balance, he gets himself entirely off the floor. "Here, sit down."

Oscar locks eyes with him through the looking glass, brow raised.

Lando's stomach flips; he can see his own face grow flushed in the brief silence.

"Not like you to be so helpful," Oscar says, hopping away from the wall to lower himself down to the floor awkwardly.

"Shut up," Lando's says even more lamely, so clearly bothered. Oscar doesn't acknowledge it if he caught on – focused on fighting the leather trousers up his thighs.

His really nice thighs.

With a huff, he brings his hips off the floor – shuffling the trousers higher, abs flexing to lift his body in a straight line, a line that Lando can't stop staring at, he's –

Oscar flashes him a look from the corner of his eyes, smiling unevenly. "Gonna say something smart?"

"No." Lando swallows. "You um. You look good."

"Helpful and nice," Oscar laughs, breathless as he finally gets the trousers up his hips and buttoned. He tries to bend a knee to stand, freezing – eyes widened in realization. "I… can't get up."

"What?"

"They're too tight, I – I can't get up, oh my god. Lando stop laughing –"

Lando's giggling uncontrollably, left kneeling on the vanity because Oscar's stuck – stuck shirtless – on the entire available floor. "What do you –"

"Stop laughing! I'm serious!"

"What do you want me to do?" Lando can't breathe, the stupidity of the entire situation crashing down on him. "I can't get off the fucking, oh my god," He gasps, trying to regain his composure. "I can't get off the table, mate, there's no –"

"If you just –" Oscar reaches to grab Lando's ankle, nudging. "Straddle my hips, like –"

"I'm not gonna straddle you –"

"Don't make this weird, mate, please."

"Oh, so you do know how to say please?" Lando yelps when Oscar actually tugs on his ankle, hard. Hard enough to half drag him off the table. "Hey!" He snaps, flailing to catch himself as the wall rushes towards his face, legs finding unsteady home on either side of Oscar's hips. "Prick."

Oscar holds out a hand. "Pull me up,"

"Pull me up, what?" Lando says, finally steady enough to look down at Oscar – who's looking up at him. Who's looking up at him with his brows drawn, pulled together like he's…

Lando doesn't think of the word 'begging'.

He grabs his hand – warm, so much smaller than his, grabbing his thumb more than anything – and tugs. It sends him careening back into the wall behind him, punching the air from his lungs as he heaves Oscar – and his stiff trousers – to his feet.

"Christ!" Lando manages to get out, panicking as he accidentally drags Oscar closer to him – accidentally stumbling forward until his free hand hits the wall next to Lando's head.

He's pinned him.

They're nearly nose to nose, eyes wide with shock. Lando can feel Oscar's slightly heavy breathing against his lips; his eyes flick down. They flick back up. Oscar's staring at him.

His heart hammers against his chest.

It's nearly dead silent.

"Um. You're welcome.." Lando mumbles, face running hot but unable to look away from Oscar's eyes – so close that he see his lashes, the rings of earthen greens and brows in his irises.

"Yeah, thanks," Oscar says, maybe tilting his head just a bit, maybe leaning into his hand – maybe bringing them even closer. "I…"

Lando mimics him, maybe tilting his head just a bit, too. Maybe craning his neck to be impossibly closer, too. Their lips nearly touch. "You?"

"Um, I –"

Lando kisses him first, every cliche happening at once – fireworks behind his eyelids, sugar on his tongue, butterflies in his stomach, Oscar's hands finding his hair and Lando's tongue sliding along his teeth and –

Someone pounds on the door.

They jump apart – as much as they can in the tiny dressing closet – and stare at each other in a panic, lips and cheeks pink.

"You leave first." Lando whispers quickly.

"They know we're in here together, mate," Oscar whispers back, wiping at his mouth. "Act normal." He reaches out, swiping his thumb against Lando's lips, too – as if that will help Lando calm down.

"Right, normal. Yeah."

[inkedbydave]

sometimes i still think about kit, ty and livvy and i start to cry, naturally.

so here's ty the genius detective, livvy the heart of the operation, and kit the sarcastic stray they adopt along the way. held together by love and a shared talent for breaking rules.

they were too powerful, too balanced, too perfect a unit - cassie clare had to nerf them for plot reasons because no villain, faerie war, or cohort nonsense could stand a chance against the combined force of their dynamic. kit with his sharp instincts and street smarts, ty with his genius-level deduction skills, and livvy with her unwavering love and determination to hold them all together. they each filled the gaps in each other's lives in a way no one else could.

livvy and ty had this gentle, nurturing dynamic, with livvy always supporting ty’s complexities, helping him feel safe enough to open up, while ty’s quiet brilliance balanced out her fiery spirit. livvy brought the warmth and emotional steadiness that helped keep ty grounded, preventing his brilliance from spiraling into obsession or burnout. she could always pull him back when he got lost in his own mind, and she gave him a safe space to feel things, even if it was just her presence. on the flip side, ty was livvy’s protector - his calm, calculated nature was exactly what she needed in moments of chaos, and he would’ve done anything to keep her safe, physically and emotionally. together, they balanced each other out in ways no one else could - livvy’s heart and ty’s mind were the perfect counterweights. kit and livvy were a perfect blend of teasing and deep emotional connection - livvy pulled kit into the blackthorn family, offering him a sense of belonging, while kit gave her a dry sense of humor and a bit of edge. kit’s dry humor and livvy’s endless empathy were a combo that could’ve balanced each other perfectly, he would’ve been the one to pull her out of a bad mood with some sarcastic remark, and she would've been there to remind him that his feelings mattered. as for ty and kit, it was this unspoken, sometimes awkward understanding - kit was the first person who made ty feel less alone, grounding him when his mind raced, while ty gave kit a kind of clarity and direction he never knew he needed. they all had a way of completing each other without even trying. the epitome of two lonely souls finding solace in each other. ty’s alienation, his feeling of being disconnected from the world around him, and kit’s fear of abandonment, of never truly fitting in - together, they were each other’s anchor in the storm. it’s like they were mirrors to each other’s pain and fear, but instead of reflecting it back in a way that made it worse, they somehow made each other feel seen in ways no one else could.

kit, ty, and livvy were the ultimate trio of heart, brain, and instinct. livvy brought the heart - her unwavering love and warmth, always holding the group together, reminding them of the importance of feeling and connection. ty, with his brilliant mind, was the strategist, always calculating and analyzing, keeping the group grounded in logic. and kit was the instinct - the one who acted when necessary, trusting his gut and doing what felt right, even when it didn’t always make sense. together, they covered all the bases. their dynamic was a perfect balance of emotion, intellect, and action, and it was that mix that made them so incredibly powerful. it’s honestly hard to imagine a better trio than them - each one completing the others in the most seamless, beautiful way.

they were too powerful. cassie saw them and went "no, this is too good, time to traumatize everyone."

i will never ever stop thinking about them. they were so precious.

PETITION FOR LIVVY TO COME BACK!!!

[mysaintkitten]

hii first of all i just wanna say your writing is amazing & you are so very talented 🤍!!!! every time i see you’ve posted something i can’t wait to read it :]

anyway!! i was hoping i could request a jonathan crane x reader fic in which he gets jealous and protective over his gf <3 reader is really pretty (like one of those pinterest or ig baddies) and not the type of girl people typically picture a doctor dating lmaoaoao but he gets jealous n stuff bc people hit on her 😭 ugh i’m rambling now but ty ily 🤍

thank you so so much !! you are so kind !! i appreciate it very very much !! ilyt !!

Claimed | Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

prompt: someone tries to flirt with you at an event, and jonathan doesn’t take it lightly (NSFW!! NO MINORS!!)

WARNINGS: brief awkward interactions with pushy men, mentions of spiked drinks/possible death, implications of murders/killing, unprotected sex (p in v), jonathan and reader are both possessive, breeding/pregnancy kink, squirting, creampie

word count: 4.3k *not proofread*

“sweetheart, we’ve gotta go soon!” jonathan calls out to you from the front room. he stands in front of a large full body mirror making some final adjustments before he leaves. he takes a deep breath and slides a small syringe into his pocket. hopefully he won’t have to use it, but tonight could be hectic.

there’s a large event in gotham tonight and jonathan wants to make sure he looks his absolute best before showing up. though, he doesn’t think he’ll have to worry so much. with you on his arm, he doubts anyone will be paying much attention to his looks.

jonathan wasn’t an ugly man by any means, but you’ve lost track of how many times people told you that you’re out of his league. you didn’t see it. he’s handsome, smart, and sweet. well, sweet towards you, at least. and that’s what mattered.

“i’m coming, just hold on!” you shout back from the bedroom as you slip on your heels. you quickly walk towards the vanity before flattening our your dress and shifting it around so it hugs your body just right. once you’re happy, you head out and meet jonathan in the front room. as soon as he sees you, his anxiety begins to fade and a proud grin appears on his lips.

“darling ..” he coos as he begins to take a few steps to meet you in the middle. he runs his hands along your arms and kisses you softly, making sure he doesn’t ruin your makeup in any way.

“do i look nice?” you ask, jonathan chuckles breathily. “you look stunning, my love. now come on, we’ve gotta go.”

you sigh as he lightly grabs your wrist and starts to lead you outside, “nothing wrong with being fashionably late, jon.”

the drive to the event is rather quiet, you stare out the window, jonathan stays fixated on the road with his hand on your thigh. after a few minutes pass and you begin to arrive closer to the event jonathan decides to give you a brief rundown of what to expect.

“all right, these people will be obnoxious. and pretentious. and dull. but all you have to do is smile and nod and look pretty, okay?” jonathan asks sweetly. he’s not exactly asking you, he’s telling you. but you don’t mind, this is his event after all, you’re really just there to be eye candy. a subtle little ‘fuck you’ to the people who doubted him and his abilities to find love. jonathan was perpetually single for years until he met you, and the people around him made it their mission to never allow him to forget it. but you flipped a switch within him. his soft, gentle side began to spill out more and more. although he still definitely kept his cold and calculated side, he just tried to keep it away from you as best he could.

jonathan pulls up to the gotham museum where the event is being held. there’s a handful of people outside, standing and talking, but the real business is going down inside. you start to feel a bit nervous, you knew this event was going to be big, but this was more than you had anticipated.

you glance over to jonathan and flash him a smile, hoping to convey authentic happiness, but when you see him frown slightly in response you realize you weren’t very convincing.

“it’ll be all right, darling. i promise. you can cling to my arm the entire night, no one will bother you.” he whispers, petting the side of your face gently, “they know what i’m capable of.”

the implication of violence gave you chills. it was hot knowing how evil and dangerous he could be, while on the flip side be so affectionate and loving. he’d get down on all fours for you, kiss the ground you walk on. he had never felt that way about anyone, not in the slightest. in fact, he held partial animosity towards most people. some stronger than others. after years of being picked on and ridiculed, it’s not surprising he felt this way.

you nod at his words and form a genuine smile, making jonathan smile in return.

“let’s head inside.” he hums.

you exit the car with jonathan and begin to approach the museum, already noticing people look your way and whisper amongst themselves. you wrap your arm around jonathan’s, holding him close as you enter the event.

as you’re inside for merely a few moments, taking in the scenery and people around you, you hear someone shout from afar.

“crane!”

you and jonathan’s heads shoot over to the direction of the shout, where you’re met with a man you’ve never seen before. you feel a bit worried, but then you look over at jonathan who’s smiling. you begin to relax, if he’s not worried, you’re not worried.

the man is finally face to face with jonathan, where he grins widely and sticks out his hand. jonathan laughs and shakes the man’s hand, “been a while, hasn’t it?”

jonathan notices your confusion and breaks the handshake to speak to you, “darling, this is a friend of mine from university, his name is dr. fiske.”

you’ve heard of dr. fiske before. jonathan said he was his only friend throughout university. it’s nice to finally put a face to a name. you smile shyly at him and stick your hand out to shake his hand, “pleasure to meet you.”

he shakes your hand and nods, “same to you, miss.”

“is this your girl, crane?” dr. fiske asks, a smirk forming on his face as he drops your hand.

jonathan nods while grinning proudly, “she’s all mine.”

“look at jonny go!” he exclaims happily, smacking jonathan’s arm playfully. jonathan laughs and shrugs, “i know, i know. i got very lucky.”

you can’t help but smile at his words, he always made sure you knew how much he appreciated you and how lucky he got with you. but to hear him tell it to others really solidified his love for you, you’d never been put on such a pedestal by a partner before.

“well, i won’t hold you guys up. it was nice to see you crane, and it was nice to meet you ma’am.” dr. fiske adds before leaving to head to another area of the event.

the night goes well. jonathan talks to people, and you do as he asked. smiled, nodded, looked pretty. and he was right, these people were like parasites. energy leeches. it was becoming more and more difficult to feign this contentment when your annoyance was beginning to boil inside of you. you can only hear so many rich pricks ramble about how great they are in one night.

luckily, the conversations begin to fizzle out.

“would you like to get a drink?” jonathan questions, already knowing what your response will be.

“yes, please.” you sigh with relief. it would be much easier to pretend to be interested if you were drunk, but having to do all this sober was really putting your acting skills to the test.

jonathan chuckles and leads you to the bar, “stay here for a moment, darling. i need to use the restroom. don’t move, i’ll be right back. order yourself whatever you’d like.”

he gives you a quick peck on the cheek before heading off to the bathroom. you really didn’t want to be alone surrounded by people you didn’t know. but you’re grown, and you remember what jonathan said. they know what i’m capable of.

“gin and tonic, please.” you order politely, the bartender mumbles and begins to make your drink.

as you stand there, clicking your nails against the counter while you wait, you’re disrupted by an unfamiliar voice.

“here all by yourself, hun?”

you quickly swing around with a confused expression on your face, and you’re met with an extremely tall stranger that reeks of alcohol. you have no idea who this man is, or why he’s decided to talk to you out of all people. of course this would happen the moment jonathan leaves your side.

“uh .. no, actually. i’m here with my boyfriend.” you respond flatly as you hear the sound of the bartender placing your drink down behind you, you thank them and grab your drink, bringing it up to your lips and taking a small sip.

“well .. he doesn’t seem to be around, love.” the man noticed while slurring, “doesn’t he know better than to leave a pretty thing like you unattended?”

“he’ll be back soon. and trust me, he will not be happy to see you talking to me.” you warn, feeling irritated at this man’s inability to take no for an answer.

he clicks his tongue and tilts his head, “aw. can’t even have a conversation with you? that’s too bad .. i’ll give him something to get angry over ..” he laughs as his hand begins to meet your hip, you push his chest back firmly, spilling a bit of your drink in the process.

“don’t touch me!” you snap, hoping to god that jonathan hurries up and saves you.

“sweetheart ..” the man chuckles lowly, putting his hands up defensively, “relax, now. what your little boyfriend can’t see won’t hurt him, right?” he whispers as he reaches to touch your hips again.

you go to push him again, “i said don’t touch me!”

in the midsts of your rage, your eyes meet with jonathan. he may be far away, but you can tell he’s fuming. he nudges people out of the way and quickly strides over to you, his expression becoming angrier by the moment. suddenly, he’s behind the man’s back with a drink in his hand. his gaze burning into the back of his head.

“is there a problem here?” jonathan growled, the man turns around and scoffs. jonathan’s visibly shorter than the man, but that doesn’t faze jonathan in the slightest. the man scoffs at him, “not at all, man. just chatting with this lovely lady.”

jonathan’s gaze switches to you, and you shake your head slightly, trying to convey to jonathan that you didn’t want to talk to this man at all. he knew what you were trying to say, and he knew this wasn’t your fault.

“interesting,” jonathan responds unamused, “well hopefully you’ve said all you needed to say. come on, darling. let’s go.”

he reaches his hand out for you and you quickly latch onto him, avoiding making eye contact with the unfamiliar man.

he laughs, “wait wait, this is your boyfriend? jesus.”

jonathan wanted to leave as soon as possible to avoid causing a scene, but these little digs were making it harder for him to think rationally.

“yup. she’s all mine.” jonathan sighs, “feel free to look. but you cannot touch.”

the man laughs, not realizing how scarily serious jonathan is being. the energy is making you extremely uncomfortable. he swallows and forces a smile, “here, man. no hard feelings.”

jonathan hands his drink over to the man, to which he accepts it and nods. “yeah man, no hard feelings.” he mumbles while taking a sip. you’re confused. jonathan has never behaved like this. normally, he’d resort to getting violent, yet he gave this man a drink like it was some sort of reward.

you clench harder on jonathan’s arm and the two of you turn to leave, you hear the man make one final comment from behind you;

“keep me in mind, sweetheart. i know you’ll be thinking about me.”

you shudder from discomfort, speeding up your pace as you head towards the door.

once in the car, you sit awkwardly in the passenger seat, unable to relax.

jonathan gets into the drivers seat and slams the door, “goddamn prick ..” he groans, aggressively putting on his seatbelt.

“baby, i’m sorry, he came up to me and he wouldn’t take no for an answer ..” your voice trails off as you can’t figure out what else to say

“no, no, darling, it’s not you ..” he assures, “it’s that stupid fucking bastard in there. who does he think he is? what makes him think he’s worthy of your attention?” though jonathan knows you wouldn’t betray him like that, he’s irritated at the man’s attempt.

you rub jonathan’s arm, “he’s arrogant. and he’s probably never been told no in his life .. he couldn’t win me over if he was the last man on earth.”

jonathan huffs and begins to drive off, you remember how jonathan gave him his drink.

“baby?” you whisper, interlocking your fingers with his,

“hm?” he responds, not taking his eyes off the road,

“why’d you give him your drink?”

he grins while remembering, “well, i couldn’t drink it anyway. i had to drive us home.”

that makes sense now that you think about it, maybe he was offered a drink and accepted it to be nice.

“and i slipped something into the drink.”

your expression drops, “what?”

jonathan just shrugs and continues to grin, “he needs to learn a lesson. i guess he just didn’t know what i’m capable of, but now he’ll know.”

what you didnt know at the time was as jonathan began to approach you, he slipped the syringe out of his pocket (which you didn’t even know about to begin with) and squirted the concoction into the drink hastily. your heart starts to race a bit, a mixture of fear and admiration. he really would do whatever to protect you. you don’t know how severely he’s hurt this man, whether the drink will simply knock him out or flat out kill him. you didn’t know, and that gave you a rush. he was already tipsy anyway, whatever happens to him won’t get pinned on jonathan.

“i’d do whatever for you, darling. anything.” he hums, clenching your hand harder, “i know, i know ..” you agree, “i’d do anything for you, too. i’m yours.”

he groans and loosened his grip on your hand, shifting your hand down lower between his legs, “all mine, pretty girl. all mine.”

you gasp softly as he guides your hand to his growing bulge, “you get so many men all worked up, baby .. yet i’m the one that gets to touch you, and hear all those pretty noises you make as you come undone.”

you run your hand along his clothed cock without his guidance and you feel yourself becoming aroused as your thighs tense together, the intensity of the situation was making your heart pound and your mind foggy.

before you know it, he’s pulled up outside of the house.

“get inside, go into the bedroom. i expect to see you ready by the time i get there.” he purrs, you hum while taking your hand off of his bulge, quickly heading inside and shutting the door behind you before kicking off your shoes. before you’re even near the bedroom you begin to unzip your dress, giggling quietly as you hear jonathan enter through the front door, locking it behind him while sliding off his shoes.

as you stand in the bedroom, you fully slide the dress off, tossing it on top of the hamper before quickly unclasping your bra and sliding off your panties. you scramble, slightly breathlessly, onto the bed, and lay back as you wait patiently for him.

a few moments later, jonathan enters, sighing at what he sees.

“oh, my girl ..” he purrs, walking over to the bed before crawling onto it, planting kisses on your ankles as he works his way up your legs, “so well behaved .. all for me ..” he praises as his kisses make their way to your thighs, where you slowly spread your legs apart for him. he groans at your pussy, continuing his desperate kisses along your inner thigh.

“look at that pussy ..” he hums lowly while using his index and middle finger to spread your lips apart, “god. i’ve killed men over this cunt, you know that, darling?”

you whimper at his tone as you shake your head, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth while staring down at him.

“well ..” he coos while sliding a finger inside of you, “i have. i’ve kept track of the men that have harassed you, hurt you, annoyed you, hell, even the men that looked at you the wrong way. notice how you’ve never seen them again?”

the more you think about it, the more you realize you never had to deal with these men more than once. the incident would occur, you’d tell jonathan, and he’d take care of it. it’s sickeningly attractive to know how far jonathan will go for you, knowing how absolutely pussy whipped you’ve made him.

you gasp as he slowly fucks you with his middle finger, your mind finding it hard to focus on one specific thing.

“for .. for me?” you whimper, feeling yourself becoming slicker

“all for you, my love.” he sighed against your thigh as he continues to place small kisses along your inner thighs, his lips inching closer to your swollen clit, “all for you.” he whispers one last time before suckling gently on your clit while continuing to finger you, sneaking a second finger in while you writhe beneath him.

“o-oh ..” you moan, “jonathan, please ..”

your pussy clenches around his fingers and he hums against your clit, slipping a third finger in as you whimper loudly,

“j-jonathan, please!” you mewl, snaking your fingers down into jonathan’s head and tightly locking your fingers into his hair, he briefly pulls off and continues to finger you while groaning “let me taste your pretty pussy for a bit longer, darling ..”

your cheeks burn at his praise, your thighs beginning to twitch around his head as you become wetter, the sounds of his slick tongue and drenched fingers become even louder. lewd squelches and soft whimpers are all that can be heard, along with jonathan’s occasional hums against your clit.

he can feel you become close, he’s able to recognize your involuntary jolts and twitches all too well. he pulls his fingers out and takes his lips off you, huffing quietly as he brings his slick fingers up to his mouth and sucking the arousal off.

the dirty act makes your chest flutter, he’s so desperate to taste each and every drop of you, trying his absolute hardest to make sure none of it goes to waste. once his fingers are cleaned, he brings his hands down to his zipper and button, where he urgently unbuttons and unzips his pants.

“who do you belong to, baby?”

“‘m yours, jon ..” you moan, batting your lashes at him. he groans as his jaw hangs slightly slack while he tugs his pants down, his cock nearly bursting out of his boxers. he palms himself while staring down at you, “‘n who do i belong to?” he smirks,

it rarely crossed your mind that the possessiveness went both ways, you were normally so enamoured by jonathan and his admiration for you that you rarely considered anyone else as a threat. but occasionally, jonathan would get hit on in front of you, and it would make you immensely angry and insecure. he’d barely even look in the same direction as other women, yet they’d still somehow think that was a sign to approach him. he’d shoot them down harshly. even the women that you felt could easily take your place, jonathan’s loyalty towards you never faltered. he wanted to make sure you wouldn’t have to go to the same limits that he would to keep outsiders eyes off of you.

you shake those thoughts aside to respond to him while biting your lip, “you’re mine ..”

he hums in approval while sliding down his boxers, both the boxers and his pants now sitting at his mid thigh, “that’s right, darling.”

he inches his hips forward and runs his cock head along your folds, spreading the slick around before teasing your clit with his tip. pressing against the bud and gently moving his cock side to side, watching as you wriggled at the teasing.

he chuckles and dips his cock back to your opening, slowly sliding just his tip in before pulling it back out, fucking you agonizingly slow with the head.

“d’you know how many men are gonna be jerking off to the thought of you? ‘n how many of them wish they could just get a glimpse of your pussy .. let alone sit here and tease it ..” he breathed, beginning to slowly side more of his cock inside you. your breath hitches at the developing fullness, “more .. please ..”

“aw, poor baby,” he coos almost condescendingly, “you want me to fuck you properly?”

you nod mindlessly and huff, purposefully clenching around him in hopes of getting him to put his full length inside. it partially works, you think, as he groans and slides more inside, still not bottoming out yet.

“use your words, darling.” jonathan commands, halting his movements again and leaving just his tip inside once more.

“please, jonathan .. please fuck me properly ..” you whimper embarrassingly, as those words leave your mouth he laughs breathily before sliding his full length in, nearly knocking the wind out of you as he thrusts back out and pounds into you again. he forms a quick, rough pace that makes you nearly cry with pleasure.

“o-oh, mmh, fuck!” you whine loudly, your back arching as jonathan’s cock forcefully hits your most sensitive areas.

“this cunts all mine, you hear me?” he groans while gripping your thigh with one hand and grabbing your face with the other, “if i wanna fuck it, slap it, breed it, abuse it, whatever i want. it’s mine. right, baby?”

you nod quickly with furrowed brows, pathetic little mewls falling from your lips as you stare at him through your lashes. you loved this duality about jonathan. sometimes you’d purposefully rile him up just to get him to fuck you angrily and almost animalistic. sometimes, he’ll make love to you and praise you the entire time like you’re a goddess that’s a blessing on this earth, other times he’d fuck you like you’re a filthy whore that’s sole purpose is to be stuffed full of cock. you needed both in moderation. right now, you were long overdue for one of his dirty rough fucks, so it’s kind of nice the way things panned out tonight.

“wanna breed this pussy so goddamn bad .. you like how that sounds, sweetheart? you want me to fuck a baby into you?” he purrs, his grip on your face and hip still tight, you nod and moan loudly, “y-yes, jonathan!”

he chuckles before quickly switching to a low groan as he feels you become slicker around him, “god .. you’re gonna look so fucking good all nice ‘n full .. i’ll make you my wife .. you want that, hm?”

“yes, yes!” you ramble as your mind goes blank, it feels nearly primal. like deep down, you’re just two ravenous, hungry creatures who need each others bodies and want to reproduce. that’s all humans are really meant to do, isn’t it?

“good girl .. such a good girl .. i’ll take such good care of you and our baby, darling ..” he hums, “open your mouth for me ..”

you lazily open your mouth and stick out your tongue, small whimpers being punched out of you as you do so. after grinning at how malleable you are in his hands, he spits in your mouth. he doesn’t even need to tell you to swallow, you do it anyway.

“that’s it, god you’re fucking perfect ..” he praised, it made you feel so dirty, your mind running on overdrive at the intense amounts of pleasure. you hadn’t even realized how close you were until you felt yourself beginning to slowly tip over the edge. this didn’t feel like your normal orgasms though, you felt something different within you.

suddenly, through jonathan’s harsh thrusts, your orgasm spills out of you while you whimper loudly. the clear liquid poured out of you and dampened the blanket beneath you along with jonathan’s pants. you twitch at the after shocks of your orgasm and jonathan’s pace never slows, “look at that .. drenched my fuckin’ pants baby ..”

“i’m sorry, ‘m sorry i couldn’t control it ..” you apologize as your cheeks flush from the embarrassment, you had never squirted before, and now you feel partially guilty for ruining his pants. not too guilty, though, because your other senses are still being dulled by the feeling of his cock pounding into you.

“no, don’t apologize, sweet girl .. ‘s cute .. made you feel so good, you made such a mess ..” he soothes, loosening his grip on you face and sliding his hand down to grip the other side of your hip with his now free hand.

his thrusts begin to get shaky and his breaths get heavier, “gonna come- fuck, baby, ‘m gonna come ..” he huffs through gritted teeth, his eyes shutting tightly as his grips get harsher. after a few more pumps, he’s coming inside you. groaning lowly as he holds your hips tightly against his, making sure he shoots his load as deeply inside of you as he can.

he thrusts a few more times to really get his come in there before slowly pulling out his softening cock. he leans back on his knees, you scan him up and down from between your legs. his cheeks are pink, his hair is messy, his forehead is sweaty, his glasses have slid down the middle of his nose bridge, his chest rises and falls laboredly, and his almost fully soft cock sits between his legs, his pants still around his thighs with a large visible damp mark from when you had orgasmed.

once he’s caught his breath, jonathan speaks;

“maybe other men should flirt with you more often.” he chuckles.

—

i have to be honest, i don’t think this is good at all, but i hope you guys at least like it! i’m sorry it’s taken me a while! i’ll be back on track soon! :)

[lipglossanon]

Someday

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

stepbro!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader (beach one shot)

this went in a weird direction but instead of scrapping it, I’m posting so 🤷‍♀️ enjoy lmao lots of smut 👌

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, protective Leon, perv Leon, kissing, dirty talk, nipple play, teasing, grinding, public sexual situations lol, car sex, unprotected sex, creampie

not proofread

Title from Someday by Sugar Ray ☀️

⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹₊⋆☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆☁︎⋆₊ ⊹

This place is warm without a care

We'll take a swim in the deep blue sea

I go to leave and you reach for me

—"Someday"

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

"Quit pushing!"

"But you're in my space!"

"If you guys don't behave, I will turn this car around!"

The squabbling in the back seat cut short as Leon glares you. 

He leans over and flicks your arm when you’re not looking; you hiss at the sting, smacking him on the forearm in retaliation. 

"Leon," his dad warningly calls out from the driver’s seat, looking at him through the rear view mirror. 

"What?" he glares at you still, rubbing the smarting skin, "she literally started it, I was just paying her back.”

"Yeah, but you know better," his dad sighs before moving his attention to you, “please let’s all just get along and enjoy our day.”

You smile, “Of course,” turning your attention to Leon you bat your eyelashes, “I am so sorry, big brother.” 

"Whatever," he rolls his eyes, flipping you off once his dad turns back to the road.

Your mom claps her hands, “Look alive kids, we’re here!”

"Finally," Leon breaths out, opening the passenger door and slipping out once his dad parks the car. 

Everyone piles out of the vehicle and makes their way to the back hatch. Your stepdad opens it and pulls out the coolers holding food and drinks.

"Here make yourself useful,” Leon sneers as he shoves a tote full of towels and sunblock into your arms. 

Your mom pats you on the back, “I got the beach umbrella so we’ll go find a spot!”

You stick your tongue out at Leon and turn along with your mom to walk along the boardwalk to the sandy beach below. It doesn’t take long to find a decent spot, staking down the umbrella and tossing the beach blanket down onto the sand. Leon sets down the coolers near the side while his dad hands out the beach chairs to be setup. 

Once everything is in order, you sit back on your haunches with a sigh. Rooting around through your own bag, you grab a few things and stand up. 

“I’m heading over to the changing rooms,” you jerk your thumb behind you, to the wooden building, “shouldn’t take long.”

Your mom nods, “Okay, make sure to lock the door. Actually Leon, walk with her. You never know these days.”

You roll your eyes and walk backwards, “I’m totally fine mom, you can see the building from here.”

Leon’s dad nods at him, “Just maybe walk over that way with her and if it seems fine just mosey on back.”

Leon smirks at you, “You heard’em, little sis.”

He gets up from the blanket and walks over to you; spinning you around, he gives you a gentle push to walk forward.

“I don’t need the help,” you snip at him, elbowing his side so there’s more space between you.  

“Hey I’m just following orders. Besides,” he leans more into your space with a leer, “maybe I just wanted to see what kinda bathing suit you picked out.”

You roll your eyes, tamping down the heat that washes over you from his words. 

“Whatever, perv,” you climb the wooden steps and find an empty room. 

Hesitating, you look back at Leon before stepping inside, “Are you going to be out here?”

His arms are crossed as he leans against the banister, a deadpan expression in his face.

“Unless you want me in there with you, yeah I’ll be out here.”

Nodding, you completely step into the changing room and shut the door. It’s pretty nondescript but just something about it is giving you the ick. A low noise comes from behind the wall, probably just from someone changing in the next room. 

You tug your shirt off, already wearing a bathing top underneath— you just wanted to swap it for the more colorful one you brought along. A weird sound next door has you jumping in place. 

“Leon?”

“Yeah?” you can hear his muffled voice on the other side of the door. 

Another raspy noise comes from the other side of the wall giving you goosebumps. You swing your door open and gesture him inside. His mouth opens, probably about to make fun of you, when the look on your face cuts him short. 

He enters the changing room with you, keeping quiet as you hold your finger up to your lips. The strange noise happens again but louder, making you press into Leon’s side, hands gripping onto his thin tee shirt until your knuckles blanch. 

You both stand still, ears cocked and listening as that weird noise happens again. Leon reaches out and raps his hand hard on the wall. The noise stops and you both hear something scurry away from the wall. 

“Don’t change in here. We can go to the car,” Leon whispers to you, eyes serious, “definitely gonna report this to whoever’s on duty. Fucking creep.”

“Leon,” you whisper back, relief making tears prick your lash line, “thank you.”

“Hey, of course,” he murmurs softly, warm palms coming up to cup your jaw, “you’re okay. I won’t let anything happen to you, promise.”

You nod in his hold, pressing into his body even further. Your hands come up to wind in his hair and pull him down. He takes the hint and presses your lips together, kissing you softly. 

Leon pushes until your back is flat against the wall, never breaking his kiss. 

“You’re my girl,” he growls as he kisses a hot trail to your ear, tongue dipping inside, “no one gets to see you but me.”

“Leon,” you whimper, tugging on his hair as he nips at your neck before kissing down to your clavicle.

“Wish I could do more right now,” he murmurs into your skin, dragging his mouth down to the swell of your breasts in your bathing suit top, “just gonna get a little taste and we’ll head back, okay?”

Nodding, you have no idea what you’re agreeing to, when Leon noses the fabric covering one of your breasts over until he can suck your nipple easily into his hot mouth. 

“Just a taste, princess,” he whispers, moving over to the other hard bud and suckling.

He keeps you pressed to the wall as he lathes and sucks on your nipples until they’re hard and swollen. Your bathing suit bottoms are soaked with slick when he finally pulls back, eyes dark and heated. 

He slips his fingers under your top and pulls it upright, letting go with a snap. You cry out from the sting on your puffy nipples as your top now covers them. 

“C’mon, we need to head back before they come looking.”

“But..”

He grins at you, teeth gleaming, “What is it? Is my little sis feeling needy?”

You nod your head, “Please, big brother, I’m so wet.”

His fingers dip beneath the band of your shorts and bottoms to glide across your slippery clit. You cry out and bury your face in his chest. 

“Oh? She is,” he coos, “she needs me so bad huh, princess?”

He dips his head lower, whispering filth in your ear and making you rock against his fingers as they circle your pudgy clit. 

“Mmm I’d love to get on my knees and kiss your pretty pussy all over,” he licks the shell of your ear, “she loves getting kissed by big brother, always so fucking wet after I makeout with your cunt, isn’t that right?”

“Uh huh,” you whine, “feels good. Big brother makes my pussy so wet.”

“Fuck,” he grits out, fingers circling and pinching your clit over and over, “when we get home, I’m pushing you down and railing your little princess pussy, got that? I’m gonna use you all fucking night, so you’ll just have to keep that hole wet and ready for me. Can you do that for big brother, huh?“

“Yes, yes, please, want that,” you slur, thighs tensing as your orgasm winds tighter in your belly, “want big brother to fill me up.”

“Don’t worry, I will,” he laughs meanly, “you can only get off if I’m creaming in this tight cunt anyways.”

You whine and hump down into his fingers, “Love it, love getting your creampies.”

“God damn, princess,” his fingers slide across your clit roughly, “cum for me, get my fingers soaking wet.”

“Oh, Leon, I’m—“

You shudder in his arms, muffling your moans in his shirt as you shake apart on his fingers. Riding out the soft tremors, Leon finally slips his hand away and laps up the clear slick webbing across his fingers. 

“So fucking juicy,” he growls, free hand coming up to twist one of your nipples making you whine, “can’t wait til we get home.” 

He kisses you one last time before opening the door, letting you leave first. You both look around but luckily the whole area is deserted. He gives you a little push toward the stairs. 

“Go catch up with them, I’m gonna look around for whoever’s in charge and file that report.”

You watch Leon’s broad back as he walks around the corner and warmth flutters in your chest as you make your way back over to your mom and stepdad. 

“Finally, thought you two got lost,” your mom smiles, patting the blanket, “let me put sunblock on your back and shoulders and you can skedaddle.”

Your stepdad looks over at you and then glances around, “Where’d Leon get off to?”

“He said he’d be back, needed to do something.”

He nods and goes back to his book. Your mom finishes up with the sunblock and puts it back in her bag. 

“Make sure to drink plenty of water.”

“I know, mom,” you roll your eyes good naturedly, “I’m gonna go wade for a bit, see if I can find any cool shells.”

“Have fun,” she plops her big sun hat on her head and lays out on the blanket. 

You wander down the beach until your toes meet the small waves kissing the shore. Wading out into the warm water, you take in all the people. It’s really nice and peaceful even with all the racket; easy to let it fade into the background with the sound of the ocean echoing in your ears. 

“You wanna build a sand castle?”

Leon’s voice behind you makes you jump, quickly turning to face him.

“You serious?” you squint at him, still feeling out of depth with the whole fiasco earlier. 

“Yeah, let’s go build one,” his eyes are something else with the ocean reflecting off the already prismatic blue, “I know where the good sand is.”

You smile, reaching your hand out to see if he’ll take it. Surprisingly, he does. He leads you back away from the water but not too far in order to reach the ‘better sand’. 

"This is a lot of fun," you murmur, brushing shoulders with Leon as you try to dig out a moat.

"Yeah even if you’re complete shit at it,” he smirks, side eyeing you. 

"Hey," you push his shoulder, leaving a damp hand print on his shirt, "I’ve made like three sandcastles in my life, so lay off.”

"Doesn’t matter,” Leon shrugs then laughs, “I'm going to absolutely destroy this when we're done.”

You frown, "But why?"

“It’ll just wash out with the tide otherwise.”

You roll your eyes, “Such a dork. Think I might go for a swim since it’s gotten hotter just sitting here.”

"I'll go with you," he stands up and slips his shirt off making your mouth feel dry, "don’t want you to drown while my back is turned”

You mock salute him while trying not to stare at his chest, "Aye, aye, captain."

Leon ruffles your hair, "Last one in the water is a rotten egg."

He takes off running with you right behind him. 

“You’re such a cheater! You didn’t even countdown!”

"Snooze ya lose, princess,” he laughs, splashing into the ocean before whirling on you and grabbing you around you waist. 

“Hold your breath,” he murmurs hotly in your ear before he’s pulling you under with him. 

You’re not under long and Leon brings you both back up to the surface with you holding onto his biceps for dear life. 

“You’re such a jerk!” you yell, salt water running into your eyes making them sting, “I’m going to murder you!”

“Like to see you try,” he laughs loudly, faking like he’s going to dunk you before yanking you back to his chest. 

Your hands wrap around his neck while your legs wrap around his waist, squeaking as he fakes dipping you both under again. 

“You’re so mean,” you pout as he wraps his hands around your hips. 

“What else is new, princess,” he laughs, shaking the water from his hair. 

He eases out a little further, holding you in his arms as he treads water. 

“Can’t wait to get home,” he murmurs, kissing your neck. 

“Leon,” you whine, “anyone can see us.”

“Yeah? We’re too far off for them to know what’s happening. Just kiss me, little sis.”

You sigh as he places more soft kisses on your neck.

“You got me?”

Giving him a puzzled look, you nod, “Yeah…”

He slowly lets go of your hips and once you stay buoyant, he grins. 

“Since the waters up to our shoulders,” he smirks, hands coming up to grope and squeeze your breasts, “I’m gonna have some fun.”

“No, don’t,” you squirm, but don’t let go; letting him touch you like this is exciting. 

“Aww, you’re so cute when you’re lying.”

He pulls the cups of your bathing top down exposing your breasts to his greedy hands. Pulling and tugging on your nipples has you rocking into him with a moan. 

“Leon,” you keen, head laying against his shoulder, “we’re gonna get caught.”

“Fuck,” he groans, pinching your nipples extra hard, “I’d love that, love to see someone know that you’re getting off on big brother playing with your sexy tits.”

You whimper and press your chest harder into his hands, “Gonna get in trouble.”

“No we won’t,” he chuckles, letting his fingers tease across the swell of your breasts and circle your hard buds, “‘long as you can sit pretty and take it, I’ll play with these cute fucking tits the rest of the day.”

That visual alone makes you rut against his chubbed cock with a moan. 

“Like that?” he laughs and pinches your nipples too hard making you squeal.  

“Think you can cum like this? Rubbing that hot pussy all on me while I suck on your nipples?” his voice rumbles in your ear

“Uh huh,” you shudder nails digging into his back.

“So hot,” he turns his back to the beach and shifts you up higher so can dip his head and latch onto a swollen bud.

You lose track of time, letting Leon suckle and bite at your nipples til they’re puffy and sore as you rub off on him, cumming twice before he even pulls away. 

“Probably need to go back in,” his voice is hoarse while his eyes are nearly dilated black, “been out here for awhile.”

Your brain is total slush at this point and you agree wholeheartedly. 

“Thirsty,” you mutter into his neck as he fixes your top.

“There’s water in the cooler,” he double checks to make sure you’re both presentable before wading back to the beach.

Once the water’s waist high you drop your legs and walk next to him, pushing your shaking muscles to keep you up. Once you get back to the blanket, your mom is reading and your step dad’s conked out with sunglasses on his face. 

You smile and flop down next to Leon who hands you a cold water. 

“Thank you,” you keep your voice low.

He shrugs and cracks open his water and drinks it in like two seconds. 

“You kids about ready to go?” 

Your mom’s voice sounds sleepy. 

“Seems like you two are,” you tease making her laugh and she taps your stepdad’s arm. 

He jostles awake with a snort making you giggle as Leon grins. 

“We’re ready to go honey,” your mom kisses his cheek. 

“Of course,” he stretches and yawns, “Leon you feel like loading up?”

“Can do,” he stands up and starts bundling things in his arms. 

You stand and start collecting the little things he doesn’t have the hands for; you both walk over to your mom’s SUV and Leon sets his stuff down and grabs your armload. 

“Go grab them and the blanket and we should be set.”

“You don’t want—“

“I got it,” he pushes you with a shit eating grin on his face, “trust me.”

You squint at him suspiciously but listen and go grab your parents and the folded up beach blanket. 

When you get back, you see Leon somehow finagled the beach stuff in such a way that you end up sitting in his lap on the drive home cause there just isn’t enough room otherwise. 

His dad pokes fun at him, “Must’ve gotten too much sun eh son?”

Leon rolls his eyes as he tugs you onto his lap in the third row seating, “Like I haven’t heard that before.”

Your mom laughs, “Well just make sure to be safe back there.”

“Will do,” you and Leon chime in at the same time making her laugh again. 

As soon as your stepdad leaves the parking lot, Leon’s hands are under your shirt plucking and tweaking your overstimulated nipples. You twist in his lap, placing your legs on either side of his seat, facing him to eagerly makeout. It’s not long before you’re grinding against his bulge. 

He fishes his dick out, grabbing your hand and guiding you to jerk him off. 

“That’s it,” he whispers, “stroke it. Fuck wish I was in your mouth.”

“Me too,” you kiss him sloppily as he pinches your nipples hard. 

“Y’wanna suck big brother off? Mmm but our parents would hear it wouldn’t they? That tight throat choking on me.”

“Mmhmm, I’d gag so much,” your hand eagerly strokes his dick, “you’re just too big for my mouth.” 

“But not for that pussy”, he growls, moving one hand from your nipples to slide under the leg of your shorts and swim bottoms to tease along your slit.   

You have to kiss him to stop the moan from giving you both away. 

Once he pulls back, Leon smirks at you, “Gotta keep quiet or they’ll find out what a slut you are.”

You pout, “Just feels so good.” 

“Let me stick it in,” he whispers in your ear, “just let me slip the tip in, ‘m so hard it hurts, princess.” 

“Just the tip,” you agree, slipping your shorts and bottoms off. 

He pulls the foreskin back on his fat tip to spank against your clit making you bite your lip hard. Pressing into your soaked cunt, the head stretches you open making you sigh.  

“Don’t you want the rest?” he coos sarcastically.  

“You said just the tip,” you mumble against his mouth. 

Leon listens for about half a minute before he grabs your hips and forces you to sink down. Force is a strong word as you easily go along with it. 

“So bad, taking me all the way into this tiny pussy,” he teases, mouth pressed against your ear, “making me stretch you out on my cock like you just can’t help it, princess.”

You rock down on him muffling your sounds by pressing your face into his chest. Your body is ramped up and ready for another orgasm easily, the coil of arousal tight in your belly already. 

“Mmm, sucking me in,” he hisses, hands digging into the meat of your hips hard, “been fucking edged all day, so this is gonna be messy, princess. Cute pussy’s bout to be filled to the brim.”

You lift your head and let your hazy eyes meet his making him curse under his breath. 

“You’re cockdrunk,” he laughs meanly, “gonna make me cum cause a’your needy fucking face.”

He grinds up harshly into your fluttering walls as his thumb swipes over your hot, swollen clit. 

“Want it, big brother,” you whimper, eyes teary as your orgasm begins to reach its peak, “please, want you to cum inside me.”

“You’re getting a nice load princess don’t worry,” his grip on your hip keeps you in place as he ruts into your pussy and circles your clit with his thumb, “squeeze me, squeeze down on my cock and I’ll give you want you want.”

You kiss him messily, tongue licking into his smirking mouth as your climax shakes your body to pieces. You feel as your pussy tightens down on his cock so hard it must hurt but Leon likes it if his groan’s anything to go by. Your fluttering walls milk his cock as he ruts up one last time and spills inside your clenching pussy. 

You pull away from his mouth, both of you panting against each others lips, just sharing the same space as you cum together.  His cock kicks and throbs as sticky jizz fills your cunt, hot rope after rope of cum shooting from his fat tip. 

Your pussy pulses and clamps rhythmically, aftershocks making your thighs shake as your hands grip onto the upholstery of the seat. 

“Hope you’re not too tired,” he grins, “told you I’m gonna rail you when we get home and I still mean it.”

You rock down on him with a mewl, “Can’t wait, big brother.”

[aphroditeinthesea]

hi !! could i request a annabeth chase x fem reader that’s really angsty, like im thinking that they’re close friends and annabeth is like sure that reader likes percy and so she bottles her feelings up until she can’t hold it anymore and its all hurt/comfort (i have been listening to ttpd too much lately)

“ a greater woman stays cool (but i howl like wolf at the moon) ”

annabeth chase x fem!reader 🦉

a/n kinda short

⋆｡˚୨୧˚｡⋆

When Y/N started hanging around more, Annabeth knew why. It was because of Percy. It had to be. Everyone since the dawn of time has had a crush on Perseus Jackson.

Why wouldn't they? He was handsome, charming, brave, funny, smart- that dumbass was everything someone could want. Most importantly, he was a boy.

When the mornings would come, Annabeth would never admit how she’d watch her friend as she would sit with her siblings at breakfast. The way she would laugh at something they’d say. She would throw her head back, letting her locks of hair fall out of her face, nearly catching the gray eyes in a stare. But Annabeth would quickly turn and fake a conversation.

It was more recently that Annabeth couldn't bare it. When the girl would come around when her and Percy were handing out, she would always find some excuse to leave. Or when she knew y/n would be somewhere, suddenly she was just "too busy." She knew she had to avoid y/n at all costs.

However, it was this day that she found y/n practicing with Percy that killed her. She couldn't look away from the way he had his arms around y/n, showing her how to balance her sword.

Her stomach flipped as the scene unfolded in front of her very eyes. His calloused hands over her smaller ones.

She soon locked eyes with Y/N, who softly smiled in return, “Annabeth!”

The blonde awkwardly waved before rushing off to her cabin. The two others were left confused, y/n speaking, “I’m gonna go check on her.” Percy nodded before she ran after Annabeth, awkwardly bumping into a few other campers on the way.

When she finally reached the Athena cabin, she was happy to find only a few of Annabeth’s siblings were there.

She stopped Malcolm as he began walking out the door, “have you seen Annabeth?’

“Yeah, she just ran into the bathroom,” he explained, pointing to the closed door.

“Thanks,” she waved as he left. She made her way to the white door and softly knocked, “Annabeth, it’s y/n,” she prefaced, “are you okay? I just wanted to check on you.”

Meanwhile, on the other side of the door, Annabeth was staring at her puffy red eyes in the mirror, “one second,” she called, wiping her eyes and fanning herself to look normal.

“You didn't answer my question.”

“I’m fine,” she choked out.

“No, you're… I’m coming in,” y/n responded, turning the doorknob.

Annabeth panicked, trying to get to the door before it opened. But alas, y/n opened the door, finding the mess of the blonde, standing in front of her.

“Beth-”

“Ugh,” Annabeth covered her face with her tissue filled fists, “it’s stupid, it's so stupid.” She stepped back, eventually sitting on top of the closed toilet.

“What happened?” Y/N kneeled at her, “did I do something?”

“No, gods, it’s not your fault.”

She placed her hand on Annabeth’s knee, “are you sure? Because you keep acting weird whenever I’m around you and Percy, was it because of him and I training- oh.”

The blonde nervously looked at the girl on the ground, beginning to lean back. She knew. She had to. She figured her all out.

“You have a crush on Percy, don’t you?”

Nevermind.

“Oh my gods,” she leaned back. “No, no I don't have a crush on Percy.”

“Oh?”

She took a deep breath, “I don't have a crush on Percy, and I’m not mad at you. I just,” she swallowed, “you two training did bother me, but…”

“What?”

“It’s because of you, not Percy,” she snapped.

Y/N tilted her head, standing up, “what?”

“Look,” she stood up as well, walking past the other girl, “I know you have a crush on Percy-”

“Ew, no I don't.”

Annabeth stood still, looking at y/n, “yes you do?”

She laughed, “gods, no, I don’t.”

“You guys are just friends?”

She nodded, “of course, I couldn't have a crush on him.”

“Why not?”

“Same reason you don’t.”

“Oh?”

“Oh.”

Annabeth leaned against the wall, “I’m such an idiot.”

“No, you're not,” y/n stood next to her, “you're wise.”

Annabeth just laughed, “shut up,” she nagged the girl in return.

“You shut up,” y/n nudged her back.

“Shut up.”

“Shut-” with that, Annabeth held her face in her hands to pull her into a kiss.

As they pulled away, y/n spoke again, “okay, I’ll shut up.”

[inkievoid]

၇͜ᩘ𑁍𝒲����𝓁𝒹𝒻𝓁ℴ𝓌ℯ𝓇 𝒶𝓃𝒹 ℬ𝒶𝓇𝓁ℯ𝓎⸙

Hey there pookies, you can fully blame Hozier for releasing his EP today. Wildflower and Barley is my favorite song off is and I wept while writing this so hopefully y'all will too :)

Song

Words: 1.6k

CW: Talks of Death

Damnation! Leon Kennedy x Reader

His jaw clenched, grip tight on the steering wheel as the engine sputtered to a halt. His old Jeep usually never failed him, even if he'd been ignoring the 'check engine light' for the past week on the road. He knew that ol' reliable would pull through before his last stop.

That's what denial told him at least...

But not everything can be relied on, he knew that. Why would he bother holding out?

In silence, he pops the hood, being met with steam. Of course... Nothing he could patch up and move on with.

A disgusted sigh slips from frowning lips as he slams the hood back down, anger settling in as he goes to grab his bag from the passenger seat. Reaching for his keys, they slip from the ignition and fumble under the seat.

"God damnit..." He mumbles, reaching, reaching far under the seat. His hand stops feeling something hard and smooth. He pulls at it, looking down at the iPod in his hand.

Your iPod.

He presses down on the power, surprised to see the screen light up as the company logo pops up and the lock shows. Swiping through it, he taps the video app. Seeing the massive collection of videos, he scrolls to the bottom. Hitting the last one, opening it to the sound of your laughter.

"You look ridiculous!" Your voice chirps as he sees himself standing in your old apartment bathroom as he combs his hair with his fingers in the mirror. Pushing through the botched blotchy dye job, he gave himself to be a brunet for an assignment in Pittsburgh.

"Stop laughing and help me fix it!" His head jolts around, softly glaring at you as the camera shakes from your held back laughter.

"Are you recording this? Get over here." The camera jostles around as you shake from Leon pulling you over to him. The camera moves to yours and his reflection in the mirror. His arms around you, head sitting on your shoulder, and that same shit eating grin on your face you'd always give when he was annoyed with you.

"It's so... Patchy. Kinda like old dog fur." You giggle as his head lifts to turn towards you.

"I'll show you dog." Leaning in, he bites your shoulder, an excited yelp leaving your lips as the video cuts off.

He smiled, briefly. Two years ago.

Simpler times...

Slipping the iPod in his pocket, he grabs his keys and starts walking. No idea where, but the road had to lead somewhere eventually.

So he walked down the road, the spring morning heat turning to afternoon as the sun blared down on him. He had to have been at least a few miles from his Jeep by now. Trees are getting thinner as open country fields come into view.

You'd always wanted to go to the countryside, even just for a weekend.

Leon stops for a moment, looking out at the open fields, fields of wildflowers and what he thinks is barley.

You were the smart one in your relationship. Always so knowledgeable about the weirdest things.

So different from him. So delicate and beautiful compared to his rough edges and awkward sense of humor that would always make you crack up.

Would...

He swallows the lump forming in his throat, pulling at the chain carrying old dog tags and a pill pendent. The shade looks inviting in the heat.

So he wanders over, trying to avoid stepping on flowers as he walks. Knowing he'll probably be covered in pollen by the time he's out of here.

Finally, making it to the thin patch of shade, he sits against the tree, taking in the floral scenery around him. Thinking about how beautiful it was.

Fishing in his pocket, he grabs your iPod, opening it and goes back to the videos. Flipping through the thumbnails, when he spots himself, two pens hanging from his mouth like long fangs.

He clicks the video, seeing himself propped against the small counter and sink of a doctor's office. A woman in bright pink scrubs walking past while you chuckle.

He remembers this day, you had to get blood drawn. He knew how much you hated needles, and while trying to distract you from the incoming pinch, shoved the pens in his mouth as a joke.

That was a year ago...

What he'd give to go back to that day. To make you laugh all over again. To drop the pens from his mouth by accident and get dirty looks from the nurse and make you laugh harder. Or even just to see the smile on your face when he got embarrassed and acted like nothing happened to save face. To just bargain with the universe to give you back, even just for a second.

Leon continues flipping through the videos, seeing memory after memory. He stops, noticing the gap between videos.

Six months and two months ago...

His hands start to shake as he clicks on the video from six months ago. You pop up on the screen.

Tubes in your nose in a close-up shot. Eyes baggy and tired against your abnormally dull skin. A small smile on your face as the camera moves to your right, his sleeping face appearing curled up on your shoulder as he cuddles up to you in the hospital bed.

"Big baby can't go five minutes without being next to me since he got home from Russia." You lean in giving him a soft kiss on the forehead as his nose wrinkles. Loud snores erupting from him as you wrap your arm around him tighter.

"Sleeps like a bear... A giant teddy bear." You hold the camera back, seeing him intertwined with you under the plush throw blanket he brought to the hospital for you.

"But, he's my bear. And I wouldn't want it any other way."

He feels the burn of tears at the back of his eyes. His nose stinging.

Of all the things life could take from him, why you? The one light he had that could turn the pitch black midnight skies of Winter into the midday sunshine of Summer.

The thick jacket of grief hangs over his shoulders again that he's tried shoving off since you died.

He's kept going for two months straight, not stopping or slowing down to let time catch up with him.

This has been the first time since the week off he took after your funeral he's been anywhere but work or sleeping on the couch, refusing to sleep in bed. Not without you. Falling into an even deeper depression than he already was in.

The wind picks up, ripping loose flowers from the ground, landing at the side of his thigh. Picking it up, he runs his thumb over the soft pink petals. Tiny traces of brown dusted the edges.

Rot... Disgusting rot even infects untouched places like this.

He lets the flower go as it drifts off in the wind. Looking back down, he took in a deep breath, squeezing his eyes for a moment to hold back his tears. Clicking the last video.

Two months ago...

You look so tired... Run down by countless trips to the doctor. Medication, minor procedures and time.

You sit back in your hospital bed with a sight. The soft night light in the room only illuminates you as you look back at the camera. Your voice is soft as you speak.

"It's a little past 2... I can't sleep. My surgery's in," you look off-screen, squinting, head swiveling back, "six-ish hours... I'm nervous."

Biting your lip you shrug. Letting out a rough huff of air.

"I've come to terms with it... The doctor said there's only a 20% success rate..." You go quiet, looking away from the camera.

"My parents have no idea how technology works... So when you see this Leon... Tell them I love them... And I love you. More than anyone I've ever loved before. Thank you for being the love of my life, even if it was only for a short time. Five years isn't long enough... But they were the happiest five years of my life."

You smile, lean into the camera, put your hand to your lips, and blow him a kiss.

"Take care of yourself for me, baby."

Leon sniffs as he stares down at the screen. Feeling the overwhelming ache in his chest. Tears finally spill as his throat closes, making him gag for air.

He coughs, feeling sick, not being able to stop the tears from flowing. This, this was the way his body finally made him grieve.

Whether he wanted to or not.

After a while, he leans back against the tree again, clutching his chain after he slips it off. Looking down at the pill attached next to his dog tags.

You... Little old you, always going with him wherever you could or wherever he was willing.

Even now, he carries part of your ashes with him. Just so he could take you to that beautiful countryside, get away, he promised you after surgery.

He had every intention of getting you somewhere beautiful to rest. Somewhere he knew you'd love.

Among nature, the beautiful shades of colors you adored so much, almost as much as he loved you.

He stands up and walks out of the shade as the wind starts picking up again. Turning his back to the wind as flowers and weeds flew past him.

"I love you baby. Always have, always will." He kisses the pill pendent one last time, unscrewing it, and tosses the bit of your ashes into the wind.

Accepting that he has to let you go, even if it kills him.

Letting you fly free in the sky, among the weeds.

Among the wildflower and barley.

[kayaani]

LOVE IS MORE THAN THAT (ft. Kazuha)

cw: sfw/fluff, possibly OOC, insecurities, Fem! reader, modern settings, flat chested reader.

wc: 3.2k words

۶ৎ Your room wasn't quiet today, it never was. The room of your favourite band could be heard in every corner of your little — but the cheapest you could afford —apartment.

You have always liked music, and for real, who doesn't? Music can bring you such strong emotions and express your feelings in the most poetic and metaphoric way, the rhythm could make you cry, dance, ease your mind...

You weren't even hearing the song that played from your CD player. It was a little habit of yours that you started the past month, putting music to drown the bad thoughts that invaded your mind, seeking for your tears. This time it didn't help, as you were looking at your own reflection in your bedroom's mirror, staring at the top you bought last week without thinking twice.

Why didn't you try it in the fitting room? You were so stupid, and it didn't matter how many times you re adjusted the fabric of the cloth, it would still look the same. Oh, yeah, because you were with your boyfriend that time, reassuring you that it would fit you perfectly and beautifully. But looking at it now, you regret believing in him so easily.

You took it off, you couldn't stand the feeling it brought to your chest looking how unfitting it looked on you, thinking you were not the kind of person that should buy it.

You returned to the comfort of your baggier clothes, the ones that used to divert attention from your torso. "It's better this way" you muttered to yourself, but couldn't shake completely the self-doubt you felt.

You could still hear the voices of your classmates in middle school. Some guys making jokes, other girls talking about "you're so lucky, I wish I could have a flatter chest" and others just being your own voices of your head comparing.

The bell rang, it was him, you looked one last time at the mirror to check how your hair looked, and then hurried to the door, opening it to reveal your sweet lover, Kazuha.

He took in your appearance and smiled at you with his calm and peaceful demeanor.

It didn't take long for him to, when you guys were watching something on the comfiness of your living room, bring up the subject of the top.

"I noticed I haven't seen you yet with the t-shirt. It wasn't to your liking, perhaps?" He asked you, sipping on his hot coffee you prepared together. Your hands instinctively tightened its grip on the mug. You didn't want to talk about it, not now, now any time soon. It was something terrifying, not your clothes, but what was under there.

"It's nothing like that, really" you were quick to reassure, smiling, or rather forcing your smile to him.

Of course he wouldn't fall into your trap, he was smart, too smart sometimes. A concerned frown formed on his gaze, his eyes were quick to look for any signs of discomfort, of sadness, something. You seemed tense, and that wasn't something that happened around him, when he was so caring and loving towards you.

"Is something bothering you? It's okay, you can tell me. You know I want nothing but the best for you"

That made your stomach flip. You knew him, you knew how genuine his words and actions were, the fact that he loved you and would never think of you as disgusting... But your insecure thoughts were faster than those reassuring ones. It was inevitable that one day he would see or notice the flatness of your chest, but how would he react? Would he be disappointed? Would his steady, soft gaze falter? If only you were born with more.

Kazuha brought you out of your trance with a single word, your name being called. You were quick to glance his way, he was a bit closer and he cautiously and gently put a hand on your shoulder to let you know it was okay and he was there for you. "I can see something is wrong tonight, please, don't be afraid of showing yourself"

"It doesn't matter, really" you tried to change the subject to something else

"It does if it upsets you" he said back

Sometimes it was irritating how caring he could be, how his words were laced with pure concern. You looked into his eyes, the shade of red looking back into your own. You hesitated, but finally expressed yourself.

"I'm afraid you'll feel disgusted or turn your back on me" she faintly explained.

Kazuha looked at you, the weight of your words in the air, but he didn't change his expression to one of pity, if anything, it just softened and looked at you in understanding. "How come? Why would I even think like that towards you?"

You sighed, it was time, wasn't it? And his words, his gaze, it just made it easier. You took off your hoodie, underneath was your top with that neckline that haunted you.

He didn't seem to understand, it was like you were showing him something only you could see. Little did you know, it was true. That your insecurity, your fear of the rejection, your hatred towards the size of your chest, was something only you could see, only you could ever feel bad about.

"I feel like a little girl" you murmured to yourself, then looked into his eyes in search of a reaction. You could only find pure love and admiration. "Aren't you... Disappointed? I know most men like girls with more than this..." You started to talk, but were cut off by him, your name in his lips.

"Is that what you were so worried about?" He asked you, his voice soft. "Why would you think that way? How could I feel disappointed when I love every single thing about you?" He continued, his hand lowered, looking for her hands to hold.

"Please, believe me when I say I don't care about that at all. I love you. I adore every aspect of you and something like this could never change my mind about it." He talked again, pouring his heart in his words and the genuine affection he felt.

Author note: this was a request I received 6 days ago (I know , I just didn't see it omg I feel so bad). I hope this is for your liking and this was what you expected. I really didn't know how to start and if her thoughts and worries were well-written as I don't suffer from that insecurity.

To whoever is reading this and relates or has similar insecurities as the main character (reader) of this one shot, I hope everything's going well, because believe it or not, it doesn't matter. Those are things we only see. Everyone has their own insecurities and are more fixated on them than yours to even look for them. People won't see you just for your appearance, true people will see beyond that, and it won't matter to them whether you have skinny legs, fatter legs, flat chest, big chest, nose hooked or nose straight, etc. Those things don't matter, those things make you you, you.

Also, I'm truly sorry if this feels rushed, OOC or not what you expected, I'm a bit busy with things but wanted to write something, and the request made me happy. Btw, if you guys have any requests feel free to tell me.

[ameagrice]

Capsize

percy jackson x fem reader

chapter thirty-five | when I say ‘hell’, you say ‘nah’

Being tied up and gagged sitting beside a barbecue spitting hot oil at you, was not on the agenda.

And yet you sighed, tied up to a barbecue. Across the porch, Nico sat the same way, bound to the railing. To your left, Grover mirrored him, tied up in the sun. He was sweating, and looked incredibly tired. You wished you could do something about the situation you got caught in, but the truth was, you couldn’t do a thing. Percy got you here, and only Percy could get you out.

“Lovely day!” Geryon flipped sausages. A bit of piping-hot oil landed on your cheek. You flinched, but he didn’t pay you any notice. “Lovely day…Eurytion, get those banners higher!”

Streamers and party balloons were tied up and taped to the windows by Eurytion, who you deducted to be a spineless man. He’d tied you all up at Geryon’s instructions and relaxed on the bench under the window, in the shade.

You tried desperately to think of a way you could contact anyone. Chiron, perhaps, who could advise you on what to do now that Percy had gotten you tied up and held hostage. Maybe even Sally Jackson, since she always knew what you could do. Her advice hadn’t failed you yet. But there were no water sources or reflective surfaces to make a rainbow, and you could reach your bag chucked out of the way down on the grass, anyway. Eurytion had been kind enough to put your dagger in your bag, rather than throwing it away. That was something.

Eurytion and Geryon ate barbecue food, put more on the grill, and ate that, too, until the sun had set relatively low. The whole time, you tried not to hyperventilate at the thought of Percy being eaten by monster horses. You tried not to think of the high possibility you’d be sold off like a piece in a thrift store. You tried not to, but your mind ran wild. Grover communicated with his eyes, probably as tired as you were after your struggle to get out of the ties. You hadn’t any idea what he was communicating, though—the sun beamed in your eyes.

You were beginning to think he wasn’t coming back at all, a hopeless sort of sadness setting in, when a desperate, boys voice rang out above the barbecue and Geryon’s terrible singing.

“Let them go!” Percy’s voice raged. He ran up the porch steps and rounded. He locked eyes with you, and then Grover and Nico. “I cleaned the stables. So let them go.” Relief lifted the weight off your shoulders, that Percy was still breathing.

Geryon lifted off his cooking apron and dumped it over the porch rail. “Did you, now? How’d you manage it, sonny?”

Breathing deeply, Percy explained. “The water from the river. I…controlled it. Cleared the stables out completely.”

Geryon nodded appreciatively. “Well, then, Mr. Genius, smart move. You could have at least poisoned the naiad that resides in there, but hey-ho.” The staticky radio on the bench next to Eurytion played an Elvis Presley song, cutting out here and there. Polk Salad Annie felt a little bit too upbeat for the unpredictable crowd.

“Let my friends go,” Percy seethed, not appreciating the insinuation that he hadn’t done enough. “We had a deal.”

Geryon chuckled. “See, the problem is, and I’ve been thinking about this very deeply; if I let your friends go, I won’t get paid. They’re staying.”

Your eyes widened so much you might have looked comical. Percy turned gray. “You. Promised.”

“Ah, but you didn’t have me swear on the River Styx, did you? Therefore, it was not binding. Always remember, Percy, when you’re conducting any business, you should always swear on the River Styx. A binding oath is worth everything, alrighty?”

A beat of silence hit as Percy drew his sword. Riptide reflected the gold of the sun, strong at your friend’s side. Orthus, standing at Grover’s head, growled deeply.

Geryon waved Percy off like he was a knat. “Eurytion, he’s annoying me. Kill him.”

Grover and yourself protested as much as you could with your mouth’s somewhat bound too. Geryon looked away and slung a packet of bacon on the grill. At the same time, Percy inched closer to you, angling Riptide to the ties on your ankles. Orthus pounced and snapped at him, forcing Percy to move away. Saliva dripped from the dog’s mouths in a disgusting puddle near your feet. You couldn’t help feeling a little angry at him. For the first time, Percy had truly put your life at risk, and his way out of it failed to be effective.

“Kill him yourself,” said Eurytion, crossing his arms loosely.

Raising his dark brows, Geryon uttered a calm, “Excuse me?”

“You heard me! You keep sending me to do your dirty work. You pick fights for no proper reason, and I’m tired of dying for you. You want the kid dead; kill him yourself.”

Tensely, the scene reminded you of a movie, like a cowboy facing down his enemy. You wanted to laugh, but honestly you felt a little too heat-exhausted and scared.

Geryon threw down the metal tongs. “How dare you defy me? I should be rid of you this instant!”

“And who’d look after your cattle then? Orthus, heel.” The dog left you, settling at Eurytion’s side.

“Whatever! I’ll deal with you later, after the boy’s gone.”

Then the scene

went

wild.

Geryon picked up two carving knives and threw them with such fury in Percy’s direction that they went haywire; he raised Riptide and deflected one away, over the rail, the other landed between Eurytion’s feet. Orthus barked aggressively, and Elvis Presley went crazy on the radio. Though obviously tired, and looking sweaty and pale (and in need of a shower after the stench of the stables), Percy went on the offence, raising Riptide and aiming right for Geryon’s head. He ducked and moved aside, causing the sword to go right through his middle chest. You looked away, praying to your mother you didn’t gag, because the way you were feeling in the sun, it would not be good. Geryon yelled in pain and thudded to the deck. You anticipated the familiar sound of crumbling to ashes and dust the way monsters usually do, but it didn’t happen.

“Nice try,” he growled. “Thing is, I obviously have three hearts. It’s the perfect backup!” You looked back just in time to witness him kick over the barbecue that had been boiling all day long. The metal grates fell away, as smoking coals spilled out. Being so close to it, one caught your cheek as it dropped, others burning around your feet. You screamed, and couldn’t stop it. Grover yanked uselessly at his bindings, while Orthus approached him in a low crawl. Elvis didn’t give a shit that you found yourself in a stressful situation. Eurytion stepped back down the porch steps. Nico looked visibly terrified. After all, he was only a kid.

Percy struck Geryon in the chest again, but he only laughed in his face. The dark-haired boy ran the sword through his stomach but it did absolutely nothing. Percy persevered, usually, so watching him take off inside the house was a kick to the stomach. He couldn’t leave you here, surely? Your cheek itched painfully from the burn of the coal and the oil and the sun, you were tired and hot and stressed. Sooner rather than later, you might explode.

Geryon launched the large barbecue fork through the open doorway, and it landed in something with a terrible clunk. “Your head’s gonna go there, Jackson, next to the bear!”

In the doorway, Percy appeared carrying a large bow and notched an arrow, shocking since he couldn’t so much as hit a target a metre away at camp. Geryon berated him verbally with cruel remarks and laughter, but Percy was not to be deterred. The monster didn’t need weapons to charge toward Percy, who dove sideways. Before he could react, Percy let the arrow fly. It shot straight through Geryon’s arm in a bloody mess, and right through his bodies to the other side, landing in the wall inside the house. The ranch grew still and quiet, Geryon turning. “You can’t shoot,” he struggled to talk. “They told me you can’t.” In a sickly shade of violent green, he fell to his knees heavily and promptly turned to ashes, grains as small as sand. Silently, all that remained was a pair of jeans, a huge shirt and boots.

Percy turned, dropping the bow to the deck, clattering. In his pocket Riptide had returned. He cut your mouth free first, careful of the stinging cheek, knowing somehow that freedom of speech was what you wanted now.

You coughed to clear your throat, and brilliant-gray met sea-green. “Glad you’re still breathing, Percy Jackson.”

He swallowed, cutting through the binding at your ankles. “Glad you’re still here, B.”

You collected your backpack and dug straight for a bottle of water, sipping slowly as Grover and Nico were released. Casting the bottle away into your bag, you stood to build up the barbecue again, and offered the last packs of burgers to the gods as a thanks for helping Percy actually get a good shot…and not somehow shooting you, instead (which he had nearly done, once before).

Nico said Eurytion should be tied up, and Grover agreed on the grounds that his dog had tried to kill you all. Murder wasn’t in your books, and you didn’t want to become a subject of interest, but the old man had done nothing while you cooked under the sun and was going to allow you to be handed over to Luke. So…something had to be done.

“Why don’t we just…” you thought, “I don’t know, actually. Could just tie him and make a run for it before he breaks free?”

“Or we could contact Chiron?” Suggested Grover. “Maybe he could do something about this?”

You waved him off. “Chiron would be too nice.”

Percy raised his brows. “And just tying some up is isn’t being too nice?”

“Alright! I’m just saying, murder is a bit far. He isn’t completely guilty. He didn’t really do anything to us.”

“Didn’t do anything for us, either,” retorted your friend. Percy flicked his hair from his face, sweaty and sun-kissed.

Nico gasped with an idea. “We could kill him, and then I’ll go and judge him in the Underworld.”

You clicked your fingers, pointing at Nico. “Ha ha, that’s not what we’re gonna do.”

“Look,” breathed Percy, pocketing Riptide-now-pen. He held out a hand to Eurytion as he spoke. “How long will Geryon take to reform and come back?”

“Couple hundred years,” the farmhand shrugged. “He ain’t one of those quick reformers.”

“Oh, thank you Zeus,” you mumbled. The sky rumbled, perfectly clear.

“You said you died for him in the past, didn’t you? How’d that happen?”

Eurytion explained his immortality, chosen way back when in his half-blood era. Percy stood beside you leaning on the fencing, raising his hand to shield his bright eyes from the blinding sun. In turn, his shadow blocked you, dimming the feel of burning on your face.

“You can change things ‘round here,” offered Percy, “be nice to the animals, not selling them. If we leave you here, you’ve got to stop trading with the Titans.”

Eurytion thought about it hard, and long. He sat silent, just pondering, until eventually he nodded. “I can live with that.”

“Hey, if you get the animals on your side, maybe when Geryon comes back, he’ll be working for you. Tables—turned.”

Eurytion hummed, chuckling low in his throat. “I wouldn’t mind that,” he grinned. He waved off in the distance. “Now go. I haven’t had peace and quiet in years. And the girl looks like she needs a hospital. Seriously, you look sick.”

“That’s rude.”

“You’re not gonna stop us?” Grover pushed away from his seat. You leaned your elbow on his shoulder.

“Hell no.”

Despite his calm, laidback demeanour, you couldn’t help feeling suspicious. Raising your bottle to your warm cheeks, cooling them a little, you asked the question stuck on your mind. “He said somebody paid for our safe passage. The only person I can think of down here who could have done so would be Hera. She met us in the maze. She gave us some not-so-helpful advice. You seen her anywhere?”

Eurytion shrugged. “I don’t know what he was talking about. And I ain’t seen any gods round here, lady.”

“What about Luke, and his army? Did you actually tell them we’re here?”

He scoffed with humour. “Did I hell. We were waiting until after the barbecue. So to answer your indirect question, missus, they don’t know about Mr. Nico.”

The boy himself glared right at you with such passion it almost physically burned. Two options were here and two only.

“You can come with us and get out of here,” you offered. “Or you can stay on the ranch for a while. Either way you’d be quite safe.”

Nico’s face warped to one of fury. His skinny fists clenched at his sides. “I’m not going anywhere with you! Safe? What do you know about being safe? You got my sister killed!”

You practically saw red. Shoving your bag into Percy’s fumbling arms, you leaned down to face Nico, who ground his teeth loudly. “Alright, you little shit—let’s get one thing straight before we go anywhere: I did not get your sister killed. I’ve thought long and hard about it, and ultimately I’ve decided that Bianca had her own brain, and her own free will. I didn’t make her do anything, and I didn’t push her. It was a tragic accident, okay?”

“Nico,” Percy stood beside you, laying a warm hand on your shoulder and urging you back from the kid who didn’t move. “She’s right. Please believe her. Believe us. None of this was anybody’s fault. Staying here would be fine, you don’t have to come with us if you don’t want to. But if Kronos finds out about you, he’ll take you, and he’ll do anything to get you on his side. It won’t be good, Nico, trust me.”

Nico turned his face away. “I’m not on anyone’s side. And I’m not scared of any of this.”

“You really should be. Bianca wouldn’t want any of this.”

He turned back. Nico’s eyes swam with tears, and you felt a little bad for popping off. “If you knew my sister, you know she’d want to come back! If you cared about her, you’d help me to bring her back.”

“A soul for a soul, right?”

“Yes!”

Percy looked troubled. “But if you didn’t want B, and you didn’t want me, then who?”

“I’m not explaining anything to either of you!” He exclaimed. When a tiny tear tread down his cheek, Nico raised his hand to wipe it away aggressively. “I’m going to bring her back. She’s my sister. I need to…I need her.” He rubbed his eyes viciously.

You deflated. Nico tried to look brave, and act older than he was, but his eyes were rimmed with red as he rubbed at them, and he choked on his tears. All of a sudden you wanted nothing more than to sit him down and talk to him, apologise for shouting when he was so upset. You wanted to kick yourself for acting impulsively, and shouting at a child as they cried. At fifteen years old, you should have known better. You reminded yourself terribly then of your father.

“Why don’t we ask Bianca what she wants?”

Nico’s face stilled. “I’ve tried,” he said miserably. “She won’t answer.”

“Try again,” shrugged Percy. A cold breeze shocked you, suddenly. In the distance, storm clouds were rolling in out of a perfectly sunny day…. “I have a feeling she’ll answer with me here.” He sounded very confident in that, and for what reason?

“Why would she?” Asked Nico.

“Because she’s been sending me messages,” Percy shifted on his feet at the sudden onslaught of confused looks. “I’m sure she has. She’s been warning me of what you’re doing. She wanted me to protect you.”

Nico wiped his eyes furiously. “That’s impossible.”

“Why is it?” Percy offered. “Besides, didn’t you say you’re not afraid? Let’s try it. We’ll need a lot of food, and a pit. You got anything like a grave around here?”

—

The grave happened to be dug especially by yourself and Grover. You never were one for gardening, and you find yourself slacking towards the end of the grave-digging.

“Come on,” urged Grover, sweaty and tired. “Just—we can do this. We’ve got this. Positive thinking. Deep breath in…”

You want to tell Grover that positive thinking won’t influence positive actions, because your limbs feel like lead. But together you finish the grave, and your friends pull you out of it. You waited until dark, the five of you and the dog, to call on the dead. With crates of root beer at the ready, Nico paced back and forth, anxious. You sat at the edge of the grave and dangled your legs in, exhausted beyond belief. Every now and then you had to kick away a bug. Grover sat on his heels, sleeping on the crates of root beer.

“Minos should be here by now!” Came Nico’s tiny voice, his dark eyes full of worry. The moon was high and full and bright. Percy’s infinite gray streak shone in the light, a patch among dark, dark hair. “It’s dark enough. It’s late enough…”

“Maybe he got lost,” suggested Percy. Nico glared furiously.

Percy crouched beside you and clapped you on the shoulder, digging his fingers in as a means to try and show you he was there. Maybe he knew you well enough by now to know you were getting irritated and agitated, waiting and tired and forcing your eyes to stay open.

Little Nico grew fed up himself, and wrenched a bottle of root beer from the crate, pouring it into the pit. Grover jerked away, and began helping. With food in a pile from the forgotten barbecue, Nico’s hands dashed out hungrily, and threw them into the pit too, chanting in Ancient Greek. To anyone else, the sudden chill of the night air and the aura that settled with Nico’s chanting might have been terrifying, or uncomfortable. You found the grim ordeal that was summoning the dead to be a rather interesting situation. Something satisfying in raising what once was. A reminder that things never truly died.

It didn’t take long for someone to come forward. Unfortunately, it wasn’t the right someone.

A dark shade of blue, a thin and whispery figure that mirrored who it was once, kneeled at the edge of the grave and reached in. The image somewhat shimmered, and when you looked hard enough, features showed through; deep-set eyes, hardened and somewhat angry; facial features showing crows feet around the eyes, dark brows…

“Minos!” Yelled Nico, suddenly on guard. He brought forth his sword, aimed at the ghost. “What are you doing?!”

“My apologies,” he said, though there wasn’t a hint of sorry in there. Slowly, the ghost’s image grew a bit more real, more colorful. “The sacrifice seemed too good to leave be. Almost in solid form—it’s nice to see myself again.”

“You are disrupting the Ritual! Leave, now!”

Minos paid him no mind. You’d long since jumped away from the edge of the grave, and joined Percy’s side, but something about the ghost ignited in you a want to take Nico’s sword and run the loser through with it. He turned to the two of you, running his eyes in a way that had you almost wretching.

“Percy Jackson!” He hummed. “My, my. The sons of Poseidon never seem to get any better.”

A rude and untrue comment, because you’d seen old images of Greek heroes, and Percy was the best by a million. Not that you’d say that out loud, or anything.

Percy had a lot more self-control than you did in the moment, because he simply took a deep breath, and said, “We’re looking for Bianca. Get lost.”

“Do you really believe Daedalus will help you?” Minos taunted, tilting his head. Nico had begun chanting again, kneeling at the edge of the pit with Grover kneeling dutifully at his side, taking care. “He cares nothing for you, half-bloods! You certainly cannot trust him. He’s cursed by the gods, and guilty of murder. You want somebody like that on your side?”

“Who did he kill?” Asked Percy.

“Don’t change the subject!” Minos spat, a confirmation that he was talking bull, really. “Stop hindering Nico. Don’t persuade him to abandon his goals!”

“We’re helping Nico,” you touched your dagger tucked away in the pocket of your pants. “He’s a child. Leave him alone.”

The ghost settled by Nico’s ear, leaning down to mutter. Nico visibly flinched and squeezed his eyes shut. “Don’t listen to them, Nico. Let me protect you, not them. I’ll turn them to madness as I did the others. Just say the word.”

If Minos wasn’t already dead, you swore, you’d have killed him there and then.

“Was it you?” Barked Percy. “Did you hurt Chris Rodriguez?”

Minos rolled his eyes lazily, turning around to face Percy. He got in real close to his face; Percy’s arm shot out in front of you and urged you backwards, away from the vile ghost. “The maze is my property,” he hummed. Percy refused to back away. “Those who intrude on it deserve madness.”

Nico turned furious, whether at Minos’s lecturing, or his interrupting. Either way, he turned to the ghost and ran him through with his sword. “Go away, Minos! Leave us!” His voice turned sad and desperate, like he was tired of this too. “Bianca! Come on!”

It was heart-wrenching, watching Nico beg for his dead sister. It wasn’t fair.

But she’d heard him. Bianca came forth, a silvery wisp of light from the dark trees in the distance, growing closer. You didn’t feel wary of her, and Percy dropped his sword, Nico backed away to give her space, and Grover shuffled away from the edge as Bianca knelt to accept the offering in the pit. When she got to her feet, she was a solid hue of silvery-blue form, the image of herself in life. It was like the chatter grew quiet, the chaos turned silent, when Bianca smiled sadly at her brother. Nico had grown still, and pale.

He wasn’t the first one she spoke to, though. “Hello, Percy,” said Bianca, her voice like a lullaby. Her body flickered like the stars would, before it stilled.

“Bianca…” One look at Percy had you reaching for his hand, clasping it between both of yours. He was choked up. You didn’t blame him one bit—you hadn’t known Bianca well at all, and she’d killed herself in the process of saving you all, but even seeing her again like this had your throat burning. “I’m—I’m so sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologise for, Percy. I made my choice.” Somehow, she seemed older, calmer, and a whole lot more at peace, as if this didn’t phase her and her death was simply an article she’d read in a paper and let pass over her, at the back of her mind. “I don’t regret it, either.” Her eyes, a mirror of Nico’s own, fell on you. What did you look like to her, you wondered later? Holding back your own teary eyes the way Percy did.

She turned to face her brother quickly, and his name fell from her lips. She turned sad.

“Oh, Nico.” She raised a hand to cover her mouth. “You’ve gotten so tall.”

“Why didn’t you answer me any sooner!” He exclaimed. “I’ve been trying to find you for months!”

“I was hoping you’d give up, Nico. Please give up.”

Heartbroken, Nico reached for her, but his hand passed right through. “Give up?…I’d never!”

“I need you to do this, Nico. Trust Percy. Trust her.”

“No! She let you die! They’re not our friends!”

Bianca’s ghostly hand reached out to touch Nico’s cheek, but she fizzled out too quickly, and never made contact with him. “You must listen to me now, because this is important. Holding grudges is bad for children of Hades. It’s our fatal flaw, and you must forgive.”

“I can’t. I’ll never.”

Bianca struggled, exhaled. Her eyes betrayed every feeling in her body—anguish, anger, sadness. “Percy has been worried for you, Nico. I let him see what you were up to so that he could help you. You understand, don’t you?”

“It was you, then,” shuddered Percy. “You were sending me those messages.”

Bianca nodded softly. “I was.”

Nico demanded her attention. “No, listen!” He screamed and went to grab at her again. “Don’t help him! Help me! This isn’t fair!”

Bianca kneeled to be face-to-face with Nico. “You’re so close to the truth now, Nico. Believe me. It isn’t them you’re angry at; it’s me. And it’s okay to be angry, do you understand? You’re allowed to be upset—”

“No!” He heaved a great cry.

“You’re mad because I left you, to join the Hunters. And you’re so angry because I died and left you here. It wasn’t my intention, and I’m sorry.” Bianca’s voice turned thick with emotion. “But you must try to accept this, now. I cannot come back. And you must stay with them.” She nodded at you and Percy.

“I just want you back,” Nico sobbed. Bianca, on her knees, looked as if in a great deal of pain. She swallowed hard, and her voice was shaky.

“You can’t have that, Nico. This is how it has to be. And one day, we’ll be reunited again properly. Trust me. Believe in that. I’m never too far away, even when you can’t reach me. But for now, you have to let me go. Can you do that for me, Nico? You’re so strong…you’re so brave.” She turned suddenly to look over her shoulder at something the rest of you couldn’t see. “I must go now. Your powers are attracting unwanted attention. I have to go back.”

“Wait!” A terrible, pained cry ripped from Nico’s throat. “Please don’t go!” He heaved. “Please stay! Don’t leave me here!”

“I love you, Nico.”

You understand Bianca then, and her decision. It was why you dropped Percy’s warm hand and took up Nico’s cold, limp one. He heaved and cried, and didn’t protest when you lay your free hand on the side of his head, and gently pulled him to you. You raised your gaze from Nico’s teary, reddened eyes, squeezed tightly shut, to Bianca’s mirrored gaze. A single, shiny tear trailed down her translucent face, and you tried to convey one last message: Nico would not be alone.

She nodded slowly, and sniffled once. Getting to her feet, Bianca managed a sad smile, and lowered her eyes to Nico once more. He was the last thing she saw, as she trailed out of the mortal world for the final time. Bianca di Angelo simply faded away.

Just because she’d told him to trust you, didn’t mean he trusted you right away. That night, Nico sat out on the porch alone, talking to somebody that wasn’t there, crying to himself. You’d tried to talk to him, but had no luck. Nico demanded to be left alone, so you left him. When you returned two hours later, he’d fallen asleep on the bench, a hand tucked under his cheek. Percy dug out a blanket from one of the bedrooms upstairs, and you’d covered Nico over as the night air grew chilly. Your heart felt heavy, but the day’s trials didn’t prevent you from falling asleep quickly. The boys took the sofas downstairs, and you picked a spot at the bay window with a comforter and pillows. Sleep took you the second you laid down your head.

Your mother decided it was a good time to pop up and say hello, apparently.

You recognised the setting immediately as New York’s Public Library. Beyond the windows lining either two walls, the sky was black as could be, no stars or anything showing through. The lights and the slightly dusty chandeliers on the ceiling of the grand roof were golden, more yellow than usual, and the tables stretching the length of the hall were empty as could be, the dark stretch of tile down the middle aisle echoing your footsteps the further you walked.

At the end of the wall, standing beneath the clock small in the grand wall, was a tall lady, casual as could be in jeans and a pretty sweatshirt. This didn’t defer her from wearing a sword in a scabbard at her hip. Long, light hair was tied back in a practical bun, tight and secure. In her hands was a heavy book, and her brilliant gray eyes scanned it furiously. She didn’t look up from it until you’d paused at her side, peering up at the taller woman, admiring her. Strange, how the gods technically had no DNA, and yet you were her mirror image. The same jawline, the same nose, definitely the same eyes. She was pretty, really pretty, and she carried herself with confidence.

It would have been nice to be acknowledged, however similar you were.

“Mom?” You voiced into the quiet library air.

“Chapter eighteen of The Iliad—what do you know of it?”

You raise your eyebrows, curiously. “I don’t know off the top of my head, exactly. There’s a fight over Patroclus’s body, isn’t there? Real dramatic, like. They’re worried about going to fight the Trojans. Achilles worries about the outcome of Patroclus going out to join the fight.”

“Do you notice any similarities between this and our life?” She quips. Your mom huffed at something she read, and snapped the book shut. The cover was battered leather, the title almost rubbed away. It was old, but no dust rose from it.

You shrug, and feel somewhat nervous. “We’re history repeating itself?” You offer. “Is this to do with Bianca, last night? The fight over what happened to her, fighting over what she wanted for her end?”

Mom hummed, and threw the book over her shoulder. You had a sudden desire to catch it, but as you went to grab it, as it hit your hands, heavy as hell, it disappeared, as though she’d never thrown a thing. Your mother turned to watch you, bringing your brows together, spinning in a circle to look for this damn book like a stupid dog chasing its tail.

“The fight for life is always happening,” said mom, factually. “What happened to Bianca di Angelo was a negligible accident. She could have been saved.”

Frozen, you shakily exhaled. Gray met the mirror image.

“She could have been saved, but it was her destiny. You understand, don’t you, daughter? That what is meant to be is meant to be. So even though you could have saved her life one way or another, she was supposed to die.”

You scoff, and surprise yourself at the burning in your eyes. “People aren’t supposed to just die, mom. When their time comes, when they’re old, then sure. Not like this.”

“Was it not Bianca’s time? Who decides when it is right to die?”

“What’s the point of this?” You snap. “Did you bring me here just to take a dig at me?”

“Everybody has their time. I’m here to tell you to your friend that he should stop meddling in things. Leave things well alone.”

“Great advice. After we’ve sorted things. Bit late to the party.”

“Not entirely.” She tilted her head. “Before I go, just one thing—tell Percy Jackson to let the dead rest, when the time comes.”

“That’s ominous.”

“That’s life,” mom hummed. “I’ll let you go, now. The boy is trying to wake you up.”

When you come to, Percy is knelt beside you. Sunrise is in your eyes, and Nico is shouting downstairs. You gather your things, and prepare to make your way back into the maze.

—

TAGLIST

@bl6o6dy @embersparklz @lilyevanswhore

@rottenstyx @rory-cakes @i-am-scared-and-useless-bisexual

@marshmallow12435 @lantsovheiress @distinguishedmakerpandapatrol

@twsssmlmaa @gayandfairycore @padsfirewhisky

@emu281 @charlesswife @jessiegerl

@tojismassivemantiddies @xx-all-purpose-nerd-xx @nothankyou138

@obxstiles @mxltifxnd0m @cxcilla @itzjustj-1000 @sp00kcanwrite

@randomesthings @fratbrochrisgf

[m3-kk]

TCF NOVEL SPOILERS- My TCF notes

Hmmm it’s been a minute since I posted any of my TCF notes about the chapters.. so here ya go! THIS US PART 2 SHAWTYS!!

Ch. 1- YESSS CHAPTER 1!! Not the Kings Palace going kaboom 😶 Cale needs to rest!!! Slacker chan!!!

Ch. 5- AHHHHHHHHHH LEE SOO HYUKKKKKKKK LETSS GOOOOO! BLACK HAWKK OOO

Ch. 6- His name is now Sui Khan 😮

Ch. 7- 🍪 Cookiess! So we have to travel different dimensions now? Cale needs a break 😭😭

Ch. 8- World with the white mages = Xiaolen Planet

Ch.9- YAY DIVINE ITEM MIRROR LAPTOP THINGY! We are definitely going to like the other worlds people evil smirk 😏

Ch. 10- HAH CALE HUNG UP ON DUKE FREDO LOL! Sooo Cale is a god. 😀

Ch. 12- Dead mana is purer AND Cale’s power is more efficient here? Interesting..

Ch. 13- Hey we have a spare world tree!

Ch. 15- Mary is registering as a candidate to be a necromancer empress GO MARY!

Ch. 16- AW HER FAKE NAME IS “Heni Wishrop” HENI STANDS FOR HENITUSE!

Everyone thinks our Mary is powerful hehe!

Ch. 21- Working with Zero & the 4th Prince for the Harmony test :D

Ch. 22- OOooo Black Rain 🌧️

Ch. 24- Now we actually need to kill those hunters. How dare they lay a finger on our family. Let’s flip them over immediately.

Ch. 25- Yay! Hong & On <3 Let’s go to the infected area! 2nd Princess?

Ch. 26- the 2nd imperial princess has been converted to Caleism hah m! Tree-bush monster ye fire, destruction, protection!

Ch. 27- Are you human? HAHAH CALEE

Ch. 28- That Marquis guy is smart. Cale really is acting like a purifier so funny!

Ch. 31- Blood Message! How scary!

Ch. 34- Attacking the bad guys >:]

Ch. 36- BURNNNNNNN 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

Ch. 37- 50% power to get 2,500% as a result! SO EFFICIENTTTT WEEEEEE

Ch. 38- THE HUNTER WHO HUNTS HUNTERS! GO CALE SO POWERFUL HA!

Ch. 39- Cale.. not everyone is a super powerful ultimate other worldly being like you! I feel bad for Goldie Gramps 😭

Ch. 40- In Prison with the fam 😜

Ch. 41- We are going to loot!! Goldie Gramps is angry and that dragon is timid but crazy. I love our family! CHAOS LOVE

Ch. 42- DESTROY THE ESTATE MWAHAH

Ch. 43- So sad that we couldn’t loot 😭🥲

Ch. 44- Ooo Opening the safe 💰

Ch. 54- ooo revealing us to the empire?

Ch. 58- Choking? Reminds me of Adin

Ch. 63- HAH I KNEW IT THE FAKE WT IS STAYING YOOO

Ch. 64- INFOOO! Not the Patriarch blowing up that’s crazy! We could’ve gotten so much more info! But oh well! Five Colors ooo!

Ch. 65- HAHAH THE GOD OF DEATH IN THE GROUP CHAT HAHAH I LOVE HIMM HEHHEHE (I love this chapter)

Ch. 66- AWWW Chatting with fire of Purification in puppy form!

Ch. 67- This is so cute I’m glad we get a lil’ rest just chatting with the nice puppy ❤️ I love!!!

Ch. 69- Almost the end of this arc!

Ch. 71- HOME WITH THE MONEYYYYY

Ch. 73- Ron, Beacrox! I missed uuuu!

Ch. 75- Aw the Henituse Fam! Billos!

Ch. 76- You get a mine, you get a mine. EVERYONE GETSA MINE!!

Ch. 78- YOU HAVE BEEN PROMOTED YOU ARE NOW ONE OF MY ELITE EMPLOYEES!

Ch. 79- @CP we have a mommy on our side? Mummy’s boy emperor as well???

Ch. 81- CENTRAL PLAINS?! The sworn brother goodbye was cute.

Ch. 83- We meet CP’s clone?? Cutie??

Ch. 85- The disrespect! They can’t pronounce our Cale Henituse’s name!

Ch. 86- NEW NAMES LETSGOOO

Ch. 90- YOO we got a golden plaque!

Ch. 91- Cale ignores Toonka but not Roan!

Ch. 93- We found the living jiangshi!

Ch. 94- enlightenment is crazy****

Ch. 97- Talking with the Sword Sainttt

Ch. 100- Purification! Chapter 100!

Ch. 101- One word, blood. SHITTTTT NOO

Ch. 102- AWKWARD! Yay Choi Jung SOO

Ch. 106- LET HIM EATTTT

Ch. 108- So many ally’s yay !!!!

Ch. 112- We. Are. Going. To. EATT! (a elixir)

Ch. 113- 70% shield 53% water

Ch. 116- The Alliance leader is being bitchy SHOW EM’ WHOSE BOSS! (Roan misses Alberu)

Ch. 118- Don’t hurt our Cale! Please!

Ch. 119- Aw I love when Choi Han & Beacrox talk together about family

Ch. 121- Ah the god ole trash bastard days

Ch. 123- Green Forest Bastards try and mess with us?! Angry Cale! >:(

Ch. 124- OO Cale is the BOSS MAN

Ch. 127- 68% then 72% of fire!!

Ch. 128- Pfft Caleism has a poem now lol.

Ch. 129- HUHH Big complicated lore??

Ch. 131- WOAHH The Heavenly Demon is a smart cookie fr fr wow intelligent!

Ch. 135- The Left Guard is so cute awe

Ch. 136- Oh no the Heavenly Demon ain’t doing so good :[

Ch. 137- Helping out the HD again. Spy?

Ch. 139- Aw Choi Family spars. I love it

Ch. 141- HD is being healed yay

Ch. 142- I was so concerned about Cale the whole time! Bloody Battle

Ch. 146- (I hope everyone at home is ok)

Ch. 151- TALKING WITH ALBERU YAYAYAY

Ch. 152- Pinnacle Demon is poison crazy

Ch. 153- We going to destroy things now?

Ch. 154- YAY DESTRUCTION DESTROY

Ch. 155- FINALLY FLIP THINGS OVER KYA

Ch. 157- OO WATER AP FOUND SOMETHIN

Ch. 158- OMG DRAGON LORE?? YAHOO

Ch. 159- “Raon’s lackey” I got the chills!

Ch. 160- OOOooo I’m hooked! Dragons<3

Ch. 162- Oh DAMN! We got a mf jackpot! Water is 300 percent stronger than the OG. No blood shed! Dragons are great!

Ch. 163- HAHA LOOTING ANCIENT STUFF

Ch. 165- Scale+Crown+Crown=Red Crown

Ch. 169- Shit is going down! TSUNAMI!

Ch. 171- How dare she think to threaten us, she shall die by Choi Hans sword.

Ch. 176- Old man Baek describes Cale’s world and “reads” him

Ch. 183- I love that we can run wild!! 😜

Ch. 185- THE PRIESTESS the youngest daughter of Orsena!

Ch. 186- The Dominantung Aura

Ch. 187- Our little Han got stronger (I’m so fucking proud of him 🥲)

Ch. 188- We killed her.. Last words?

Ch. 189- The Formation Collapsed!

Ch. 190- Raon’s MC moment. (Cute bond)

Ch. 191- Using water AP to Max! Or not?

Ch. 192- the Punto Banhui and Tears💧

Ch. 195- You got games on your phone?

Ch. 196- Everyone wants Cale to be a god

Ch. 199- WE LEFT!!! NOW WE ARE HOMEE

Ch. 200- Awww so cute at Alberu’s casa

Ch. 201- That actually so funny 🤣

Ch. 202- Zoom Call with Ahn Roh Man talking about gamess. Similarities?

Ch. 206- Aw it been a bit since we chilled

Ch. 209- Speech ruined! (So every time Cale has to do a speech it’s interrupted)

[steddieas-shegoes]

you're not santa

i may or may not be having a small (this is a lie) crisis over liam believing in santa this year? i am 90% certain he doesn't actually believe in santa and just said he does because he thinks the cool gifts come from santa. meanwhile i am just trying to get the vibes on if i need two wrapping papers this year or not for the same amount of gifts. so anyways working through the feelings with putting the idiots in the situation as always, enjoy.

rated t | cw: the mildest innuendo | tags: fluff, modern au, married steddie, steddie dads, the magic of christmas is all of it not just santa etc

🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅

"You better be quieter this year," Steve slapped Eddie's still bare ass as he hurried to throw on his Christmas pajamas. "Almost woke Maddy up last year. You're lucky I was standing by the door."

Eddie rolled his eyes fondly. "Well, maybe if you hadn't turned the-"

"Just go!" Steve laughed, throwing a pillow at him with deadly accuracy.

Eddie threw it back at him with a smirk. "When I get back, I'm giving you your present."

"You already did, Eds."

"No, that was just one of them," Eddie rushed to say before leaving their bedroom and quietly closing the door behind him.

Both bedroom doors were closed across the hall, so he quickly made his way down the stairs to the garage, where all the gifts were hiding since Robin dropped them off earlier that day.

But when Eddie opened the garage door and flipped the light switch, a voice startled him into nearly turning and running.

"I knew it!"

Sammy.

Their oldest son had been acting very suspicious of Santa related discussions for months now, and Steve had warned him that he was getting to an age where a lot of his friends probably didn't believe in Santa anymore.

"Sammy, why aren't you in your bed?" Eddie put his hands on his hips, identical to the way Steve stood when he was about to have a very serious conversation with one of their three kids.

"Because I saw Auntie Rob bring in a big bag earlier and you and Dad were trying to keep us distracted. So I looked out here while you were cleaning up dinner and saw all these presents." Sammy was standing with his hands on his hips, a mirror image to Steve in every way down to the same swoop of hair and freckles across his cheeks. "And all of these say from Santa, but Santa wouldn't have even come here yet because he was in London one hour ago and London is at least four hours from here!"

Eddie bit back a laugh at how Sammy tried to explain his way through the Santa gifts being here.

"Can I tell you a secret?" Eddie asked, dropping his arms and sitting down on the ground, gesturing for Sammy to join him.

"I already know Santa isn't real," Sammy said as he sat, sounding absolutely miserable.

"What do you mean Santa isn't real?" Eddie asked, pretending to be shocked at the revelation.

"Really, pops? You're gonna act like Santa is real?" Sammy got the sass from Steve, too. It was both annoying and adorable. "I'm seeing the evidence that he isn't with my own eyes."

"Look, Sammy, can I call you Sammy?" Eddie smiled when Sammy let out a laugh. "Santa as you know him isn't real, you're right. But there is a Santa. He's just so busy and can't do it all in one night, so he has presents delivered early for some people, like you and your brother and sister. But he can't ruin the magic, so he left them at Auntie Rob's house for safekeeping."

It sounded airtight. Any kid who wanted to believe in Santa would definitely believe that.

"Dad. Seriously." Sammy was giving him The Look. "I'm nine years old. I have straight As. I'm not stupid."

Which was something Eddie knew of course. He was endlessly proud of all of his super smart kids who did a million times better in school than he and Steve ever did.

But he didn't think believing in Santa was a sign of a kid not being smart.

"You're smart enough to learn the truth, which is that Santa gives the parents a lot more control than we let you think. Don't you think it would be harder to get Maddy to do her homework if I said 'Dad will take a present away' instead of 'Santa is watching to make sure you do your homework'?"

Sammy looked out at the garage, the clutter of children's outdoors toys and broken Christmas decorations and bulk snacks for lunchboxes scattered around.

"So he just gives you the toys when he thinks we've been good enough for them?" Sammy asked, still sounding unsure.

"Exactly! And he usually delivers them a couple weeks early so we can make sure they're wrapped and ready for tomorrow."

"So why keep it all a secret?"

Damn Sammy for always being two steps ahead of Eddie.

"It's more fun this way! Olivia was so excited to leave out cookies before bed, remember? If we told her this, she wouldn't even get to be excited about Rudolph eating the carrots, right?"

"So Rudolph is...real?"

"Okay, that one might be a lie," Eddie gave in on that to sell the rest of it. That's what you had to do with Sammy.

"So who eats the carrots?"

"I take bites and spit them in the trash. You know I hate carrots."

"Why don't you make Dad do it?" Sammy leaned against Eddie's side, letting out a long yawn. He was probably sitting out here for the last couple of hours waiting. He had to be exhausted.

"Dad did a lot of that stuff when you were really little. For five whole years before we switched."

"So he sleeps while you bring out all the presents?"

Eddie's face went red as he thought about what Steve was probably doing in their room right now.

"Yep! He did a lot of baking and stuff all day today so I let him rest," Eddie wrapped an arm around Sammy as his weight became heavier against him. "I think you should probably get some rest, too. Santa wouldn't want your Christmas morning ruined because you stayed up all night."

"I guess." Sammy yawned again. "Can I sleep on the couch?"

"You know Dad's rule. Bedrooms only on Christmas."

"Yeah, but that was for the secret. Now I know."

"But Maddy and Olivia don't. We have to keep this a secret from them, okay?" Eddie paused when he heard some footsteps directly above them. His brows furrowed.

"Maybe Santa forgot one?" Sammy asked, perking up.

"Maybe. Better get to your bed so he doesn't see that you're awake," Eddie nudged him.

No sooner had the words left his mouth than Sammy was rushing out of the garage and up the stairs to his bedroom.

Eddie looked above him, but no more bumps could be heard.

After setting all the presents under the tree in a mostly organized fashion, Eddie got back to the bedroom, where Steve was fast asleep.

He got into bed carefully, not wanting to wake him up, but Steve's eyes blinked open slowly as he curled up under the comforter.

"Took you too long," Steve whispered.

"Sammy."

"What?" Steve's eyes opened all the way and tears were instantly filling them. "Does he know?"

"Sh," Eddie pulled Steve against his chest and ran his hands through his soft hair. "I'll tell you tomorrow. Sleep, love."

"Eds-"

They heard a small bump on the roof and then silence.

Steve sat up and looked out the bedroom window, then back at Eddie.

"What was that?"

"Must've been Santa," Eddie teased.

Steve rolled his eyes.

They both stayed up for a bit longer to make sure no other noises happened outside, but fell asleep when there was nothing.

🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅🎅

The next morning, all three kids jumped into their bed, yelling about how many presents Santa brought them and how full their stockings were.

Steve and Eddie made their way downstairs, rubbing their eyes as the kids pushed them down on the couch while they started grabbing gifts.

By the end, the kids were so busy playing with new toys, they didn't notice one more present hiding between the fireplace and the tree. Eddie reached over for it, not recognizing the wrapping paper.

"Did Robbie say she was getting them something else?" he asked, holding the gift out to Steve.

"Nope," Steve took it, checked the tag, then handed it back to Eddie with a shrug. "Says it's for you."

Wayne wouldn't be bringing his gifts for everyone over until that afternoon, so who could this one even be from?

He opened it carefully, worried that it was a prank by Steve and the kids. It wouldn't be the first time they managed to pull off a prank gift.

The confusion only increased when he pulled out a small plastic replica of the London Bridge.

"You don't even like London that much. Who got you that?" Steve asked, resting his head on Eddie's shoulder.

"No idea."

Sammy looked up at them over the new book about planets he got and beamed.

"Santa brought you a present!"

Eddie was suddenly reminded of their conversation last night, how Sammy insisted Santa was just in London and couldn't possibly have made it here.

Eddie had seen a lot of weird things in his life, had ignored a lot of them and passed them up to weird coincidence, but this was different.

He set the replica on the table by the couch and wrapped an arm around Steve's shoulders, kissing the top of his head as he leaned further into him.

"Santa?" Steve asked.

"Must've been a good boy this year," Eddie smiled.

"Uh-huh. I'm sure you were," Steve kissed his cheek before turning back to watch their kids playing on the floor.

Maybe Eddie would have to write a letter to Santa next year to thank him for the gift.

[enbysiriusblack]

"He's a twat."

Mary and Marlene glanced to each other, barely controlling their smirks as Lily began to unpromptly complain about James Potter once again.

"I mean who does he think he is?" She waved her hairbrush in the air, "Showing off instead of focusing on the match going on! He's probably the reason we lost, you know? And Frank's thinking about giving him captain? Is he completely insane? I get that Potter is good at quidditch and yeah, I'll admit he's got leader potential and knows how to inspire people and he's smart enough to come up with good game plans for matches, and can pay enough attention to work out his team's strengths and downfalls. But God, he's such a show off! We're trying to watch the match and he just has to start doing broom tricks mid game, taking our attention off the actual match and missing a goal!"

"Pretty sure most people still saw the goal", Mary snorted.

"Well", Lily huffed, agitated, "I didn't! I was trying to watch it and he just starts grinning right at me then stands up on his broom and flips it! I completely missed the goal, and then he had the audacity to spend the rest of the match concentrating and not glancing back at me once."

"Is that... bad?" Marlene interjected.

Lily looked at her like she completely missed the point, "Yes!"

"You want him to look at you?" Mary smiled, sending a knowing look to Marlene.

Lily turned a bright crimson, "Of course not! I just mean that he shouldn't look at me during a match just to try to take my attention away from everyone else, and then purposely not look at me for the rest of the match after succeding in his stupid, conniving, little plan!"

"Wow, he's horrible", Marlene sarcastically drawled out.

Lily did not pick up her tone and instead sighed, sitting back on her bed and pulling her jumper over her head.

"Exactly, Marlene!" She huffed, "Now, I've got to go to breakfast where he's going to be sitting having already piled up a plate of all my favourite breakfast foods and poured me a cup of tea!"

Lily stormed angrily out of the room, after not-so-discreetly checking she looked okay in the mirror.

"She's the smart one", Marlene frowned in shock.

Mary nodded with a laugh, "Well, yeah, didn't you know cute boys thoughtfully dishing you up breakfast was the worst thing ever?"

[theclairvoyage]

Mermaid Purse - Part 2 of 3

I know I said this would be 2 parts, but I couldn't help myself :))

AO3 | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Marine Biologist!Reader x Joel Miller

Summary: Summertime in Clearwater, Florida means no school, which means instead of teaching Marine Biology at a local university, you're bartending at The Rusty Sawfish, a bar located on the marina of Clearwater Beach. The owner's friend, who happens to be a sexy, suarthy Texan contractor, moves to town to start over and help his friend with a project, stumbling across you in the process... and you thought summer in Florida couldn't get hotter.

Warnings for Part 2: Minors DNI! adult language, alcohol consumption, violence, mentions of blood, descriptions of a traumatic injury, sexual tension, reader is female, reader is able-bodied, unspecified age gap, allusions to smut, SMUT!, kissing, fingering (f receiving), ass play (f receiving), oral sex (f receiving), unprotected p in v, cuddling

WC: 4.5k

Morning arrives, and the air in your room feels different.

Not because there’s a handsome naked man sleeping next to you, though that’s reason enough— but it’s just a feeling. Like the sunshine peeking through the blinds is brighter, the sound of the ocean more soothing than usual, the chirps and calls of birds beyond the window musical instead of annoying.

And speaking of feeling, as you stir under the sheets, the soreness of your muscles and down there awakens. And the urge to pee.

You sit up in bed and peek at the man next to you, whose usual terse, rugged features are now serene. His face relaxed in slumber, lips pouty and hands folded underneath the pillow, messy curls drooping down to his brow. The rhythmic inhale and exhale of his breath.  You wonder what, if anything, he dreams of.

Carefully, you stand from the bed and tiptoe to your attached bathroom. Quietly, you shut the door and flip the light on, looking at your naked figure in the large mirror.

Small hickeys cover the skin on your breasts and around your nipples, though he was smart enough to avoid your neck.  Several more hickeys line the inner seam of your thigh, reminding you just how good he is with his mouth.  The reminiscence fuels your semi-dormant arousal.

Your skin glows, like a vampire in the sunlight.  Your hair points in all directions.  And your eyes have a glint of mischief, of whimsey.  But you did nothing wrong—quite the contrary.  And damn, it felt good.

You step back into your dim bedroom and slip under the covers, still warm from his body heat.  Pulling your phone from its face-down position on your nightstand, you check the time.  It’s still early, before 7:00 AM.

Joel stirs next to you, grumbling as he moves.  You’re not facing him, but you can feel him scooting closer to you.  He noses behind your ear as he pulls you flush to his chest.

“Been up long?” he murmurs just beneath your ear, leaving kisses on the soft skin there, working his way down to your shoulder.  You talk in between breathy moans.

“No,” you say, “maybe fifteen minutes.”

He hums in approval into your skin, turning you on your back and slotting himself between your legs.  You look up at him, astounded—how can he look even better when he’s just woken up, all grunts and messy curls and outgrown stubble?

Though he could say the same for you, how a woman so beautiful could be that way wearing nothing but unkempt hair, soft, glowing skin, and a smile on her face.  His fingers caress your cheek before stopping at your mouth, a callused index finger prodding at your lower lip, asking for permission.  You grant it, letting it enter your mouth, closing your eyes as you suck softly on his finger.

He growls, removing his finger as he bends down to kiss you.  It’s all teeth and tongue and spit—messy, hot, and full of unspoken words.  You’re not sure how you made it this far in life without passion as tumultuous as this, like this starts a new chapter for you.

Soon, Joel is kissing his way down your body, stopping to admire his artwork.  Licking the red marks softly, his lips and tongue apologizing for their misbehavior last night.  Murmuring how you taste so good andhow you’re so beautiful.  He looks up at you with those flaming amber eyes, full of more unspoken words as he hooks your knees over his shoulders.

“Joel,” you whine, running a finger through his hair as he tastes you again, a whine that quickly turns into a sharp gasp.  He hums in satisfaction into your core as he laps you up, groaning again about how you taste so fuckin’ good.

You’re caught between trying to watch his gorgeous face as he works you into a fit of ecstasy, a picture to savor in your mind, and snapping your eyes shut, back arching off the bed at the sheer pleasure he’s giving you.

Eyes on me, baby, he groans into you, rewarding you with two thick fingers and a third in your ass when you obey.  And the stretch hurts, tearing into the sore spots, but only for a moment.  And then, it’s white-hot and all-consuming and you feel fucking good.

He coaxes your orgasm out of you slowly, a methodical and gratifying mixture of his mouth and fingers.  This isn’t his first rodeo, but he knows how to alter his approach to pull those high, breathy moans and gasps from you, giving himself a gold star when you curse and spit his name.  And when you finally come on his face, pulling his hair as your muscles spasm, your vision blurs—white, then black, then white again, fuzzy around the edges.

He continues talking you through it—a couple that’s it, baby and curses and god, you’re fuckin’ beautiful, stopping only when your hips slow their circling, and your thighs relax ever so slightly.  But he doesn’t give you a break, no—because that was just the warm up.

And then he’s kissing you, letting you taste yourself on his lips and tongue, asking are you ready for me, baby and can you take it again.  And you’re nodding fervently, impatient, needing him inside you even though you haven’t yet come down from your first high.  He stares into your eyes as he hikes your legs up and over his hips, lines up with your soaked entrance and pushes in, your faces mirroring one another—mouths agape, breaths paused, foreheads close enough to touch.

You’re so full of him, but not full enough—like you can’t ever get enough of him or his cock.  His rhythm is slower than last night, but he’s so deep, so attentive to your needs, like all it took was one time to learn you and your body.  He can’t take his eyes off you, arching for him and stuffed and crying and whimpering his name.  Like it’s the first time he’s heard his name in his entire life.

And he’s a quiet man, but not while he’s inside you—no, then he never seems to shut up.  Making sure you know that you’re taking me so well, again that you’re so goddamn perfect, and of course that you feel so fuckin’ good.  You wish you could rewind and replay this moment at your leisure.

The kettle is close to boiling, and he’s asking are you close, sweet girl, though you both know you are with each quick pant that leaves your lungs, the way tears leak from the corners of your eyes as you try to hold on, try to keep your focus on him as he thrusts in and out of you.  You nod, too taxed and wound up to speak, vexed by his obsidian eyes.  Let go, baby, he urges you, hands cupping your face.  Come for me.  So, you do.

You vaguely register that he’s again talking you through it, praising you, but you can’t tell if your eyes are still open.  He follows suit, spilling his hot spend inside you with a whimper as you squeeze him.  He lies on top of you, careful not to crush you, a hand smoothing your sweaty hair from your face.

“Y’alright?” He asks, a lopsided smile plastered on his also sweaty but devilishly handsome face.

“I think so.  Haven’t really come back yet,” you reply.  Then, he kisses you, slowly and softly, a moment so tender you aren’t sure that it’s real.

Moments pass as you lie there, underneath him and still full of him as he softens.  Finally, he pulls out of you as you protest, needing to pee again.  When he watches you tiptoe to the bathroom and beckon him to join you in the shower, he’s not so soft anymore.

Most of the next hour is spent with Joel on you, inside you, and he’s surprisingly agile and resilient for his age.  You’re raw and tired, but you find yourself needing more and more of him, and he you, like your bodies were made for each other—the perfect fit and chemistry.

Around 10:00 AM, you convince him that it’s time for coffee and sunshine, and he obliges.  He dissents to your decision to put some clothes on until he sees that it’s his flannel you’re wearing and fights the urge to bend you over the countertop and fuck you for the fourth time this morning.  Later, you tell him, promising him with a kiss.

“No work today?” He asks you, sipping black coffee from a dolphin mug, which he begrudgingly accepted from you.  You’re pushing eggs and sausage around a pan, feeling his eyes all but burning holes through the back of his flannel you’re wearing.

“Nope.  But I do have work to do.  You could join me,” you say, turning around to catch him staring.  He cocks an eyebrow at you, interested.

“I’m listenin’,” he says, eyes locked on you as he sips from the mug again.

“I’m doing some research on the shark population in this area.  Was going to take a boat out and do some tagging, but I think it’ll be too windy,” you ramble, not facing him directly, but turning halfway between the stove and him so he can hear you over the sizzle of food.

“And?”

“And—,” you start, “Gives me a good opportunity to do some old-fashioned surveying.”

“So… you’re gonna swim?” He asks, propping the mug down, which sounds empty now from the way it echoes on the countertop.  You hear him stand from the chair and prod over to you, sliding his hands underneath the front of the flannel, warm on your torso.  He kisses the skin in front of your ear before working down your jawline and nearly sucking a mark into your neck.

“Food’s burnin’, sweetheart,” he teases you.  The food is done, thankfully, so you move it off the hot burner and onto one that’s off.  Joel’s still kissing you, waiting for an answer to his question.

“N-no, no swimming—ah, fuck,” you groan, as one hand squeezes your breast while the other travels further south.

“Distracted, are we?” Joel whispers in your ear, spreading your wet folds.  “Still so wet for me,” he marvels.

He turns you around, pushing the flannel apart to uncover your breasts and torso, swirling his fingertip around your clit.  You gasp, staring into his burning eyes.

“Joel, the food,” you protest.  Your stomach flips when he gets on his knees and spreads your legs with his hand.  He leans forward to kiss your thigh, chuckling into the skin there.

“Oh, don’t worry, baby—I’m gonna eat,” he says, pulling your leg over his shoulder and devouring you.

After yet another orgasm and some real breakfast, you finally get to tell Joel your real plan for the day—to take a GoPro and a drone and survey the sharks near parts of the beach.  He’s more than happy to accompany you.

Once everything is loaded into his truck, you two make haste for the beach.  Windy doesn’t quite cover the conditions out here—and the waves are tumultuous.  There are various “beach closed” signs posted on the shoreline, and rightfully so.  Wind this fast and waves this high make it easy for swimmers to get knocked over and makes it easier for big marine predators to confuse an unsuspecting person for real prey.

“That gonna be a problem for us?” Joel asks as you two stake out a spot on the dock of the marina.

“Nope.  I have my school ID.  We have clearance to do research in most conditions—obviously at our own risk,” you tell him, getting the GoPro ready.  It might be too windy for the drone.

“So, what’re you lookin’ for out here, darlin’?” He asks, watching you set up the GoPro, a laptop, and an iPad for notes.

“Long story short, I’m surveying the shark population here to see if there have been any changes to the health of the ecosystem,” you explain briefly.

“In layman’s terms, sweetheart,” he teases you, wind whipping his curls about his face.  You fish a hat out of your backpack and hand it to him.  “Thanks, darlin’.”

“Clearwater passed some laws a few years ago to limit fishing and help some endangered shark species recover numbers, so part of our job at the university is to help the city make sure those laws are working—or not,” you explain.

Joel likes watching you talk about this—your childlike zeal, curiosity, and passion make him smile.

“I see why you’re a teacher,” he says, nudging your arm with a smirk.  Your cheeks heat.

“Are you making fun of me, Joel Miller?”

“Absolutely not,” he replies, leaning in to kiss you.  “I’m kinda amazed, if I’m bein’ honest.”

His confession shocks you.  “By me?  Why?”

He shrugs before pulling you into his arms, kissing your temple as you settle into him.

“Just somethin’ special about you,” he murmurs into your hair before letting go, tone indicative that he wanted to say more.  “Let’s do this thing, eh?”

Giggling, you hand him a spool of thick thread.  “This’ll go on the GoPro, and we’ll drop it in.  It’s not much, but with humans not being in the water today, we might be able to see some good stuff down here.”

He nods, tying the thread to the GoPro and unspooling several feet.  You connect the GoPro to the iPad to make sure it’s capturing video correctly.

“Ready?” You ask him.  He makes several tough-looking fancy knots and nods, handing the device to you.

“Must’ve been a Boy Scout,” you tease him, winking.  His nostrils flare slightly before he rolls his eyes at you.

“Boy Scout,” he scoffs.  “’M self-taught.”  You widen your eyes and whistle sarcastically, to which he laughs.

“Alright, let’s drop it here.  This is probably 30 feet deep.”

Joel slowly lowers the GoPro into the water, and you both watch the feed as it sinks to the bottom.  It’s calmer underneath than it looks from the surface, though still murky.  There’s a decent view of the water beyond the dock.

“Now what?” He asks.

“It’s like fishing.  We just wait.”

“Now that’s something ‘m familiar with,” he says excitedly, crouching to sit next to you, grunting as he does.

“Are you gonna be able to get back up?” You tease.  The rapport between the two of you comes naturally, like you’ve known each other for a while.  Joel pinches your side lightly.

“Watch it, sweetheart.”

Over the next hour, a variety of fish and sharks swim in front of the GoPro.  Red snappers, groupers, sheepshead, cobias, and sea bass make up the majority of the sightings.  All of the sharks were either spinners or blacktips, along with the occasional nurse shark.

Joel was amazed by your expertise of marine life.  Each question he had was answered and explained clearly by you—and truthfully, you’re always stoked to share your wealth of knowledge about the ocean world.  Usually, you have these conversations with Georgia or one of your students—never a romantic partner.  Until now, that is.

Suddenly, a big figure approaches the GoPro from some meters away.  You grab Joel’s arm and point toward the screen.

“What is it?” He asks, as intrigued by it as you are.

“Not sure, but it’s definitely a shark,” you whisper.

The shark cruises closer to the camera, and the smaller fish swim away from view.  The deep body, blunt snout, and elongated pectoral fins tell you that it’s a bull shark.  It’s big, but not record-breaking big—likely 6 feet long.

“Oh, fuck,” you marvel, “It’s a bull.”

The two of you observe it swim toward the camera before turning at the last second.  These sharks tend to swim in murky waters and cruise near the bottom of shallower waters.  They’re notorious for being aggressive and have been responsible for 26 fatal attacks on humans—plus, with one of the strongest bite forces per weight in the animal kingdom, they are not one to spar with.

“I’ve heard ‘bout these guys.  Scary,” Joel says.

“They are nothing to mess with, absolutely.  Though scary is a relative term,” you say, half-teasing.  Joel nudges you again.

“You sayin’ you’d jump down there with that thing?”

“No way.  It’s perfect hunting conditions for them.  Windy, cloudier waters—easier for them to catch something that has no clue it’s coming.”

Joel whistles.  “How can they even see down there?”

“They can sense electrical impulses via these small pores on their face, so anything with a heartbeat can be detected.  They also have a keen sense of smell—which is why you should never go in the ocean when you’ve got an open wound.  It’s bait, essentially,” you reply seamlessly.

Joel stands abruptly, looking toward the shoreline.  Gone is any semblance of joy from his face.  He points in that direction.

“So—we’re in trouble, here, darlin’,” he says sternly, pulling your arm gently to alert you.

Oh, no.

Three kids, likely middle school age, have entered the water.  No parents or guardians are anywhere to be found, and with the beach closed, there aren’t any lifeguards.

You check the iPad and see the bull shark has noticed them.  They’re 100, 150 meters from the dock, in shallow water—perfect placement for the shark.  It darts away from view.

“Oh my god,” you breathe, “We have to get them out of there.  Now!”

You leave your stuff at the dock and sprint toward the beach, fast footsteps pounding on the wood.  Joel follows suit.  A dorsal fin carves through the surface of the water, heading directly for the splashing kids.

“Shark!  Get out of the water! NOW!” You scream, lungs raw from sprinting and yelling.  The kids don’t hear you until it’s too late.

Suddenly, the dorsal fin makes a sharp turn, and one of the kids goes down.  The other two shriek and dash toward you and Joel.  An eerie cloud of red billows out from where the shark is as it continues thrashing.  The water is so shallow that the shark’s caudal fin is visible, splashing as it whips around.

“Joel, call 911!” You screech.  He whips out his phone and obeys.

This is the worst possible scenario for a beachgoer.  Panic sets in like a late-night freeze and seizes your lungs.  The air inside them is trapped, heavy—like it’s turned to sludge.  The kid surfaces from the water, a haunting, waterlogged howl escaping his throat.  You grab a long net from the lifeguard chair and sprint over.  It’s dangerous for you to enter during an attack, but you have no choice if you want to save this kid’s life.  You’re ankle-deep now, the bloody water covering your feet.

Quickly, you spot the dorsal fin and stab where you estimate the gills would be as hard as you can with the blunt end of the net.  The caudal fin whips around a few times before charging again.  You smack the gills as hard as you possibly can once more, and the shark retreats momentarily.  You know it’ll come back soon—time to get out.

The kid surfaces again, reaching for you.  He can’t be older than 10.  Quickly, you pick him up and move as fast as you can toward Joel.  His wails and sobs wrack your soul, and you do your best not to cry.  You lie him down by Joel, who has taken his flannel off.

A large, angry bite mark on the child’s left lower leg oozes red onto the sand.  He’s screaming still, and his friends are sobbing too.  Joel steps in with his shirt and ties it above the bite mark to hinder the bleeding.  You hold the child’s head in your hands and look directly into petrified, bright blue eyes.

“Hey, you’re gonna be okay,” you try to soothe him, “Look at me.  Grab my hands.”

The child obeys, though he’s still sobbing and hyperventilating.  Joel stays put near the child’s leg, looking at you with a terrified expression.

Sirens blare in the distance before you see a firetruck and two ambulances pull up.  Several cop cars follow.

“Breathe,” you command him.  “Just breathe, buddy—you’ll be fine.  The paramedics are here.”

The boy nods, unblinking, eyes still glued to yours—like looking at you is numbing the pain temporarily, like if he blinks it’ll start hurting again.  In this moment, it’s just the two of you.  As if healing energy is flowing from your hands to his head, down to his leg—he calms.  Logical you knows it’s just adrenaline covering up the pain, but you’re unfazed by it.

Before you know it, the boy is on a stretcher and taken away in the ambulance.  They assure you he’ll be fine, commending you for saving his life—but you don’t feel like it.  A kid almost died, and now a shark will likely be killed.  Deep down, you know it’s to protect the public—but how many animals—and people—have to die before humans understand that the ocean is a wild, unknown, unfriendly, and unforgiving place?

A deep, soothing voice snaps you back to reality, placating your nerves.

“Y’alright, honey?” Joel asks, rubbing your back softly as you both watch the ambulance leave for the hospital.  You swallow loudly, your throat bone dry and stinging, like you’ve been crying.  You feel him stare at you, but you can’t look at him.  Like if you take one look at those rich amber eyes, you’ll lose the composure you’ve had since pulling the young boy out of the shark’s reach.

“Hey, c’mere,” he soothes, pulling you into his chest, arms firm around your back.  Finally, you relax and sink into him, and like a string was pulled, the hot, salty tears start flowing.

Joel comforts you as you weep into his shirt.  His large hands span up and down your back, smooth your hair, and squeeze you tight so there’s never a moment when you’re not glued to him.  S’okay, sweet girl, he whispers in your ear. Y’saved a life.  I’m so proud of you.

Time passes as you two stand there like this.  You’re not sure how much, but eventually, he pulls back and cups your face in his hands, swiping away the streaks of tears leaking from your eyes.

“Hey,” he says, smiling.  It kind of pisses you off how beautiful he is and how even in pain, he conveys so much tenderness and care.

“Hey,” you croak, giggling.  Joel laughs, too.

“There she is.”

He leans in and kisses the tears from your chin and cheeks before stopping at your lips.  It’s a gesture so poignant, so compassionate that it almost makes you cry again.

“S’go home, yeah?  I’ll cook for you.  We can do whatever y’want,” Joel offers, wrapping an arm around you as you return to the dock for your equipment.

You look at him, beaming, still so beautiful to him even though you’ve been crying.  Rosy cheeks, puffy eyes, frizzy hair.  The sight stops his heart, he thinks.

He could get used to this.

It’s late.

You know you should go to bed—you’re exhausted.  Eyes bloodshot from crying, forehead sore from constant furrowing, soles of your feet bruised from pounding on the dock at full force.  But Joel has other plans.

First, he made you dinner—and it shouldn’t have shocked you that he’s an amazing cook, given that you know he’s good with his hands, but it did.  Juicy chicken, creamy mashed potatoes with chicken gravy, and roasted vegetables, all cooked to perfection.  My daughter’s favorite, he recollected.  A daughter?! The words came out before you processed what he’d said, eyes giant saucers.  He’d laughed—Don’t worry, was gonna tell ya.

And then the real getting to know each other happened.  He spilled about his divorce, the custody battle, and his perfect daughter who still lives in Texas.  And he asked about your family and why you’re estranged, placed a warm hand on your forearm, thumb rubbing the skin there, as you ranted about your deadbeat dad and alcoholic mother, and the saints of an aunt and grandmother who raised you.

Afterwards, you attempted to do the dishes, as a way of thanking Joel for making dinner—but he insisted he’d do it.  Lemme take care of you, he grumbled, while looking at you in a way that made you acquiesce.  A look that said he’d either kill you or take you back to your bedroom and ravage you.

As you pulled two beers out of your fridge, prepared to enjoy the evening breeze and sunset on the patio, you turned to find the kitchen empty, instead hearing the gush of bathwater filling up the tub.

Joel led you in by the hand, undressed you, got distracted and caressed your skin, and placed a few tender kisses here and there, which made you shiver.  Now that y’got goosebumps, get in the tub, he teased you. 

He cracked open the beers and sat on the toilet seat, so you weren’t alone, and asked about a thousand more questions—of sharks, of you, of Clearwater.  His eyes twinkled when you answered, fixated only on you.  The loud rumble of his laugh echoed in the vaulted bathroom, and you wanted to hear it all night, but again he’d insisted it was time to get out of the tub—before y’turn to a damn prune.

And then he put lotion on the spots you couldn’t reach, combed your knotted hair, tucked you in bed before shimmying out of his jeans and shirt and joining you, rubbing the now-moisturized skin on your back and pressing soft kisses to your forehead.  Your fingers crept up and down his stomach, getting closer to where you wanted him most each time they followed the dark trail of hair. Y’sure? he asked.  We ain’t gotta do anything f’ya don’t want.

But when he looked down at you and saw the way you needed him and heard the way you whined for him, it became inevitable.  And he took care of you in a way no other man had or could attempt to, touching the deepest parts of you, making your pleasure his only passion, bringing you to the peak in each position you wanted him to.

He whispered you’re so beautiful, y’look so good on my cock, love bein’ inside you, love hearin’ you say my name into your ear as you cried out his name and pressed half-moon shapes into his skin, clutching him so close you felt his pulse against your own.

And you squeezed him as hard as you could when he said close, baby—I’m so close, until his hips stuttered, and he groaned your name, and painted hot white streaks inside you.

And now—it’s almost midnight.  Gil texted and told you to take tomorrow off, and as many more as you needed until you felt ready.  You had tons of other texts, no doubt related to the shark attack, but you had no energy to engage them.  Thrilled that you have a full day to do nothing, you sunk into the covers, wrapped in the strong arms of a somewhat stranger, and dozed off to sleep.

Taglist: @burntheedges, @tuquoquebrute, @syd-djarin, @danaispunk, @anoverwhelmingdin <3

[huramuna]

banshee's lament - chapter 6.

aemond targaryen x stark ofc minor jacaerys velaryon x stark ofc masterlist prev | next

wordcount: 4.6k

@huramuna-fics - follow & turn on notifications for just my fic postings! no taglists right now, sorry.

content: smut, angst, fluff, disabled ofc, aemond being delulu & obsessive, major canon divergence, ofc has a service direwolf, i'm taking canon rules and putting them in a blender and taking a shot, arranged marriage, graphic depictions of violence, my terrible, terrible combat writing, descriptions of injuries, allusions to suicide

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Instead of sleeping that night, Shera read over Aemond’s notes, unable to start once she started. She lit a few candles, shoving Moongeist over in bed. “Taking up too much room, bubby,” she huffed, sitting cross legged and stacking some blankets and pillows into a makeshift book stand. Finally, after adjusting the candles position a few times, she could finally see. She began to read.

‘Ser Symeon was known to wield a long staff with blades at both ends and would spin it in his hands to chop down two men at once.’ the text said. Aemond had written, very crudely and sloppily; ‘Ask Criston about double ended staves. What about double ended morningstars? Is there such a thing?’

Between notes and annotations, he would have pieces of plain parchment shoved between the pages. Upon it were no words, but drawings. They started simply, a shaky depiction of a box, an etching of a vase in charcoal. As the years progressed through the book, his drawings improved. He never strayed from the medium of simple charcoal on parchment, but they were still very good. 

Shera tilted her head, inspecting the folded papers. She wouldn’t have expected Aemond to be the artistic one, she always thought Helaena to take up that mantle with her intricate embroidery of various insects and beyond. But these were on par with etchings pressed into a maester’s journal, or something displayed in a posh palace in Essos. She realized that besides a creative outlet, these served another purpose— it hit her quickly, he used drawing as a way to train his lone eye back into a sense of depth perception and attention to detail. Those two things were what Shera suffered with immensely, still. As adept as she’d become with sewing, she still pricked her finger or accidentally sewed into her skin because she couldn’t see the correct position of the needle. Her designs for her clothes were intricate but hardly ever symmetrical and never able to be duplicated. 

It was so… smart. It was so smart of Aemond to pick up the skill of drawing, something so inherently reliant on sight, to train himself back to some sense of regularity. It was so… Aemond. 

Shera clenched her hand, her nails sinking into her palm. Why didn’t she think of that? Why didn’t she do anything— her sewing was hobbyistic at best and not nearly enough to train her eyesight. She’d spent all that time wallowing in self-pity instead of doing something. 

She felt an acute feeling of despair, then. I should have written to him more. I should’ve bombarded him with letters and given him no choice but to reply. I should’ve pried to Helaena to see what he was doing beyond niceties. 

Letting out a sigh, she pushed those thoughts away. 

Out of curiosity, she flipped to the end of the tome and looked for the latest drawing. Three pieces of paper fell from the back, onto her lap. 

Opening the first one, it was a depiction of Helaena holding Maelor near the window. There were streams of light coming through the window and the sun was shining, not a cloud in the sky. Maelor was smiling, his chubby fist held out to the curtain, the small indent of his dimpled cheeks even visible. The detail was… exquisite, it was like looking at a mirror of such a situation.

Opening the second one, it was smeared with charcoal dust. Unlike the first drawing, this one took up the entirety of the page. It was hard to discern for Shera what she was looking at, at first. Leaning more to the light, it became clear. It was a portrait of Vhagar, evident in the pallor of her scales and lack of horns. Each scale was detailed impeccably, some wrought with scars and marks from her old age. The sag of her throat was held up in regard, her teeth jagged and crooked, opening in a sneer or even a laugh. 

Shera imagined what Vhagar’s laugh would sound like— something out of children’s stories, like a cackling witch, smoke billowing from her nostrils as she swirled a cauldron of bubbling green ichor. It made her giggle, the thought of Vhagar hobbling from a hut in the woods with a cane made of gnarled oak, waving away the children who dared to set foot on her property. She would need to tell Aem— someone about her depiction some day. 

She never did have the chance to see Vhagar up close, as much as she had wanted to. Aemond had promised to take her for a ride when it was daytime, so she could see the expanse of the ocean from the sky. But he never did. He wasn’t able to. Something in her heart clenched as she thought of the fact that Aemond only got one ride upon Vhagar with his full sight, one ride upon his destiny while he was still whole. Before it was taken from him— from… both of them. 

She unfolded the third paper. It was a drawing of a woman, someone Shera didn’t recognize. But they… felt familiar. The woman had billowing curls and a snarky smile on her face, eyes lit up with fire and fervor. The positioning of the piece made it feel like she was looking back to someone— her arm outstretched in an offering, as if to beckon the person looking towards them. 

Shera wasn’t sure what to make of it— the other two drawings had been something she knew and could understand. But she didn’t understand this one. She wondered who the woman was, even after she’d drifted to sleep.

—

“Shera, are you warm?” Helaena asked softly as she observed Shera fanning herself with her hand, while Moongeist was panting furiously. 

“She ‘ought to be,” Aegon grumbled, arms folded over his chest as he looked out the slats of the wheelhouse window. “She’s still dressed like she’s in the North. Winter isn’t coming down here, Shera. You can take off the fur.” 

“… a bit warm, yes,” Shera muttered, narrowing her gaze at Aegon. It wasn’t simply just the climate temperature, but the fact that there were so many people in this wheelhouse at present, all warm bodies exuding heat.

Helaena had Maelor on her lap with Aegon to her right, and the twins to her left, who were constantly swapping seats. Aemond was sitting across from Helaena and next to Shera. He tried to give her as much room as possible, but their thighs were still touching. Moongeist was sitting on the floor, riding out the bumps. 

“Who’s bloody idea was it to stuff all of us into one wheelhouse?” Aegon continued, a bit crabby due to his lack of wine. 

“We’re almost there, Aegon. You can stop your whining at any time.” Aemond finally uttered. He had been quiet the whole ride up to the Kingswood, focusing solely on looking out the window. 

“I will stop whining when there is a breeze, a bottle in my hand and that dog is about ten feet away from me,” the oldest prince huffed. “He smells.” 

“Aegon, you smell bad on the best of days. Moongeist just needs a bath— do you even know what those are?” Shera interjected, coming to her wolf’s defense in a heartbeat. 

Helaena, Maelor and the twins giggled heartily. Aemond cracked a grin at the joke. 

“Uncle Aemond should dunk you in the river again, kepa,” Jaehaerys tittered, still laughing away. “You might catch a fish in your mouth again!” 

Aegon rolled his eyes and sighed— his lips perking up into a soft smile. “Maybe Uncle Aemond and the dog can fish in the river instead. Isn’t that what wolves do? Catch fish?” 

“… that’s bears,” Shera said with an unamused tone. 

The wheelhouse came to a creaking stop and Aegon was the first outside. Moongeist was next, followed by Maelor, then the twins. 

Helaena helped Shera down the steps, Aemond behind her. 

In a turn of events, Shera unclasped the fur stole from her shoulders, as well as the outer layer of her dress, tossing it back into the wheelhouse. She instantly felt lighter, the breeze cooling her shoulders. She had on a gray silk dress with cutout shoulders and a high throat clasp. It was flowy, almost weightless material. She adjusted her hat, which was a gift from Helaena. It was a sun hat with a veil sewed around it, coming down just below Shera’s jawline. 

“Ah, finally, you look somewhat like Shera and not a furred beast,” Aegon whistled, walking backwards towards the clearing. 

“I don’t wish to be encumbered any more than I already am in the wilderness. If I am chased by a boar, I don’t need ten pounds of fabric weighing me down.” 

“If you’re chased by a boar, then we will be eating roasted boar that very night, won’t we, Moongeist?” Hela cooed to the wolf, who was letting Maelor climb on his back.

“It feels strange,” Aemond murmured behind Shera, his hand ghosting over the small of her back to help guide her, as Moongeist was playing nanny to Maelor– which she didn’t entirely mind. “To be back here after all of this time– all of us.”

“Except Daeron,” Shera reminded him gently, her hand going down to pat Moongeist on pure instinct, but upon realizing he wasn’t there, she let out a noise of discontentment, her hand going to her chest to rest upon her furs, which weren’t there either. “Ugh, I don’t know what to do with my hands when I’m walking alone.”

“Moongeist is the new Daeron,” Aegon called back, now having Jaehaera upon his shoulders, while Jaehaerys was on Helaena’s shoulders. “I’m sure your dog can squire just as good as Daeron, anyhow.”

“You could always hold Aemond’s hand, Shera, like you used to,” Hela giggled, Aegon howling in turn.

“Oh, please, you didn’t get me anything for my nameday, brother– count this as my gift if you and Shera skip through the flowers hand in hand!” 

Aemond scowled. “If my niece weren’t upon your shoulders, brother, you’d be on the ground, preferably with a black eye.” 

Aegon stuck his tongue out mockingly and Jaehaera imitated him.

Soon enough, the troupe was sitting down in a grassy clearing, blanket over the dirt. The twins were stained blue already from the amount of blueberries they consumed, laying on their backs in the sun like two turtles. 

Aegon had managed to open a bottle of wine, sipping on it frequently while snacking on cheese and crackers.

 Helaena had a leaf insect crawling on her fingers, murmuring to herself as she observed it carefully. “They do not bleed… the mulberry leaves, they walk, animated upon mine hand… when crushed, they do not bleed, no blood… the leaves have no blood,” she hummed, the foliage-like creature.

“Do they change color with the seasons, Hela?” Shera asked as she, too, watched the bug. 

“Yes, they do,” the princess replied, violet eyes not moved from the insect. “In Winter, they die and crumble like the leaves, becoming gray and desiccated under the earth… but they’re just sleeping.”

“Mumma, mumma, tadboles,” Maelor squealed as Moongeist padded into the clearing with the toddler upon his back. “There’s… tadboles!”

Helaena was snapped from her reverie by his squeak. She extended her hand to offer the bug to Shera for a moment before an expression akin to recognition came over her face. “I’ll… put him back on the plant.” she murmured low.

Shera thought about her… disassociation spell from the previous day while staring up at the sky. They were in an enclosed clearing with tall trees all around them, the scent of pine sap wafting through the air. She watched birds pass overhead in the sky— they looked like robins, always in a flock. 

There was a large, dead tree near the edge of the forest. Its bark was stripped from its trunk, laden with woodpecker holes, cracked and splintered. It had a larger opening in it, showing that it was hollow inside. She wondered if a family of raccoons lived there. 

Turning her head to another part of the Kingswood, she felt that waft of breeze over her face again, just like yesterday. The same cream colored blur whizzed past her without any noise, merely the sensation of movement. She tried to follow its path, jolting up suddenly with alarming speed. 

She lost track of it. 

Putting a hand to her head, she groaned. She sat up way too fast, sending her brain into a tizzy. Glancing around, everyone else was gone— save for Aemond, who was staring at Shera. 

“Where did they go?” she asked, her mind suddenly off of the creature evading her vision and moreso focused on the fact that everyone was gone. 

“They left half an hour ago, Shera,” Aemond said, a brow raised. “They went to the creek.” 

“Oh.” Half an hour ago? 

“Helaena said you do this,” he continued. “Disassociating?” 

“It’s… new. I think.” she muttered, pulling her legs up to her chest. 

“You should go to a maester about that.” 

“Mm. And why are you still here?” she tried to ask politely, but it ended up coming out a bit harshly. 

“Well, I couldn’t very well leave you alone here while you were… occupied. That’d be depraved indifference.” he huffed.

“Depraved indifference? Like leaving a dog tied up outside in a storm?” she grumbled, digging a finger into the dirt. “Is it so hard for you to say you care about me?” she uttered suddenly, slightly mortified that it came out of her mouth without thinking. Well, I suppose the cat is out of the bag now. 

Aemond stared at her, the pupil of his eye waned to a slit. His jaw clenched and the corner of his mouth twitched. “I don’t need to say it for it to be true,” he said. “Words mean nothing, they’re empty and meaningless. Actions are everything— keep that in mind.” 

“You write a lot for someone who says words are empty and meaningless,” she pressed, the flare of indignation broiling in her— something that only surfaced when talking to Aemond. 

“You misunderstand me, Shera,” he said her name like a blessing and a curse, his lip twitching again. “Someone can say all they like. That they care, that they will do something, that they will fix something— but their words are empty unless they actually do it.” 

Her eye drifted once more, seeing the cream blur dive into the forest. She didn’t know what came over her, her limbs spurring into action as she got up with a start, bolting after it. She heard Aemond’s garbled voice behind her as she ran through the forest, eye unable to focus on it, but she could see it. Glimpses of it, calling to her as it bobbed and weaved through the branches.

Shera, Shera. She heard the whispers of some unfamiliar being in the back of her mind like an itch, a buzz at the base of her skull. It was calling to her, pulling her to it. She lost her shoes somewhere along the way, bare feet traipsing on the ground, cutting into jagged rock and sharp branches.

Aemond’s voice was more urgent now, but she still couldn’t understand what he was saying. And she… she was outrunning him. She felt like a doe, agile and free and the pain of her feet, bleeding and punctured, didn’t even bother her. 

Come, come, little wolf! Come.

The dark of the forest let up into a wide expanse of blue sky, blue sky and the scent of the ocean… the blur was gone and all she felt was open air as she skidded off of the cliff. It was freeing, those splinters of wings bursting through her elytra, cracking and flitting. She treaded nothingness…

Then her wrist snapped, pulled right out of its socket as she was yanked back, her ears ringing as the adrenaline died down. The breeze of the sea stopped as she was enveloped in warmth, in fire. She glanced up– Aemond was staring down at her with a wide eye, hair sticking to his forehead with the sheen of sweat.

“What the… fuck, Shera?” he breathed, his chest heaving. “Are you trying to kill yourself?” 

“No– n… no,” she croaked in turn, her uninjured hand grasping into the leather of his doublet with such force that her knuckles were white, veins bulging against her skin. “The… it…” her tongue felt tied, throat dry as the pain of everything caught up to her at once. Her bleeding feet, her ballooning lungs that couldn’t catch enough oxygen, her dislocated wrist, hand aloft at an odd angle. 

Moongeist barked somewhere in the distance, howl echoing through the forest.

She did not remember much after that.

—

The next moon was quiet for Shera as she recovered from her outing. The maesters set her wrist back into place and set it taut with a sling. Her feet were bandaged and she was prescribed bed rest for at least a week. They tried to give her milk of the poppy, but she refused– she couldn’t stand how it made her head swim, swim more than it already did.

Cregan blamed Aemond, threatening to take Shera back to Winterfell until the wedding. Rhaenyra calmed him, citing that Shera wouldn’t go out of the keep without a more attentive chaperone.

Once she was mostly recovered, lunched with Helaena every day and watched Aemond spar with Criston every other morning– but she usually hid behind the ramparts to where he wouldn’t see her– she felt oddly shy about watching him. She hadn’t had any disassociation spells, nor saw anything of the mystery blur. However, she did have Ser Erryk Cargyll as her sworn sword, issued by Rhaenyra herself. 

She hated being followed, being observed under a lens like she was a child. Indignation broiled in her chest– but one eve, while passing Aemond in the hall, he didn’t say anything to her. They hadn’t spoken since the incident, where Shera was fairly sure that Aemond was convinced she tried to kill herself by jumping off the cliff– she wanted to explain that wasn’t the case, to explain everything she’d been experiencing. But he would think her mad. Surely.

She pulled herself out of the corset after, slipping into a more comfortable, loose fitting garment. Shera had sent away her maids and told them not to return until the morn. She didn’t wish to be fretted and pulled at like a sickly hen, feathers plucked before the slaughter.

Slowly, she untangled the veil from her hair and set it aside. Fingers gliding through her braids, she let her hair fall in curled tresses down her back, resting well past her bottom once it was all out. 

The last thing to come off was her leather choker— she placed it on her boudoir, the tips of her nails ghosting over the still prominent scar there. She abhorred looking in the mirror, seeing nothing but a banshee looking back. 

Even though she had retired to her chambers, she didn’t sleep. She found it hard to sleep most nights and ended up pacing. It was late in the night and most of the Keep were asleep, save for the occasional guard. She found it the perfect time to sneak out to the tunnels that crisscrossed throughout Maegor’s Holdfast. 

She wished to test and see if she truly remembered the path that led to the water gardens— which she hoped still sparkled just as wondrously under moonlight as they did before. 

Moongeist was curled up atop her bed, snoozing away. He worked so hard to guide Shera that she loathed to wake him, so she didn’t. She wasn’t completely hopeless without her wolf guide, but it could be teetering on the edge of stupidity, to wander the dimly lit secret corridors without her safety net. Stupidity that masked itself in bravery in her mind. 

Glancing back at her veil and choker, she left them behind as she descended into the tunnel— she would be out of sight, and wished to let herself breathe for once, uninhibited and unveiled. She pressed to the wall for balance, her nightgown fisted in one hand, the other committing the curve of the stone to her mind, for later. If her memory served her correctly, she should be passing the royal apartments and the other guest rooms.

The sound of hushed voices caught Shera’s attention. In hindsight, it is rude to eavesdrop upon conversations– but she couldn’t help herself. 

The somewhat familiar gruff sound of Daemon’s voice met her ears as they perked up, pressed against the wooden backing of a bookshelf that led to the tunnel from, what she could assume, was Rhaenyra and Daemon’s chamber.

“She won’t be beholden to us, Nyra,” Daemon’s voice whispered in an urgent, hushed tone. “She was raised under them, she has no reason to like us.”

“The North is a powerful ally we need on our side once the time comes, Daemon. Cregan is already beholden to us by the oath of his father,” she breathed, “This is merely another way to bring the Starks into the fold. I’d rather them be ready to defend us, Shera, at a moment’s notice.” 

“Beyond the allegiances, the betrothals, the treaties; she is hardly a worthy vessel of Valyrian seed. A baby with dragon’s blood would tear that soft bellied wolf apart. Even then, are we so sure she isn’t still… in favor of Alicent’s brood? You saw her with the two at the dinner.”

“You’re thinking too far ahead, Daemon. I suppose I do love your… farsightedness, but we must focus on nearsightedness. We will deal with the issues of the girl’s mettle after I’m on my throne,” Rhaenyra turned, a finger pressed to Daemon’s jaw, which was clenched in agitation. “You needn’t worry. If her constitution proves weak, she shan’t survive the court— and any trace of allegiance she might have to my half siblings shall be snuffed out swiftly when the time comes.”

Shera felt her sudden burst of confidence fester into bile rising from the back of her throat. Once the time comes? Her stomach churned– she knew that there had been tension between the two sides of the King’s family but she hadn’t expected such planning and cunning already, before the gauntlet had even been thrown down, before the King had even passed– 

And she was a part of that plan, apparently. Moreso a link to her brother’s allegiances and by extension, the North. 

The tunnel she was in suddenly felt very small, like the walls were closing in on her. Panic bubbled in her chest like frothing sea water, the undercurrent threatening to drag her out to the endless expanse, water filling her lungs until they burst.

Her bare feet stumbled as she continued forward, trying to recognize any of the exits from the labyrinth, but it seemed fruitless. Tears welled, stinging and blinding her even further. She wasn’t quite sure how long she had been lost for– but it felt like the better part of an hour before she finally pushed one opening forward, falling out onto the stone ground of another room in the holdfast.

Shera sniffed, her hair falling in front of her face like inky tendrils, clinging to her tear streaked face. Her knee was skinned from how hard she’d fallen, blood trickling down her skin and staining her nightgown. Glancing around, her vision was beyond fuzzy, her head spinning. 

Idiot, idiot. She chastised herself further, fists supplanted into the ground, her nail beds scraping against the unforgiving stone as she attempted to pull herself up. 

She hoped to every God, the old and the new, that the room wasn’t occupied.

“Alicent? Alicent… is that you?” 

Fuck.

Shera froze, the croaking voice directed at… her? It was like hearing the Stranger speak, whispering in her ear. Surely it was a figment of her imagination. 

“Ali-cent,” it spoke again, followed by a hacking cough and a drawn out moan. “My… my medicine— have… you brought it?”

Shaking her head, she ventured closer to the bed where the voice was coming from, a lone beeswax candle lit on the bedside. Some incense was also burning, an intense smell of concentrated herbs that was almost too much for even Shera— what was this? Finally reaching the bedside, she was in horror at what she saw. 

Was this… the King? 

He looked more corpse than human, cheeks sunken and teeth missing and blackened. His body mass was half of what it used to be— he… he was so small now, his labored breathing, moreso wheezing, wracking his body. His eye was missing. 

She held back the urge to vomit as she got closer, now knowing what the incense mask was for. He smelled terrible— complete of death and rot, as if his body was already withering and decaying. It was on par with the scent of a dead elk she and Moongeist had found a few years before while exploring just outside of Winterfell. Its body was bloated and stinking, maggots writhing from the orifices of its body. It was one of the most disgusting sights she’d ever seen— ‘twas tainted meat, as the ravens and foxes wouldn’t even touch it. 

The King— Viserys the Peaceful. He was no more a king presently, akin more to fodder for vultures. No, she didn’t think that vultures would taint themselves with his rotten flesh. 

She peered on. Viserys wasn’t much older than Daemon, was he? And… as much as she hated to admit it, Daemon was only just past his prime, mayhaps still even in it. But Viserys… looked aged to about eighty or ninety, his skin liver spotted and plagued with… some disease she couldn’t identify. His hair was all but gone, sticking to the skin of his skull in small patches, like a child’s doll that’d been mutilated.

“… y-your grace?” Shera whispered, unsure of what to do.

“A-ah, forgive… me… dearest, there is a glint upon… your eye.”

Yes, and you lack one, decrepit corpse. Shera resisted the urge to huff. 

“The… the vial—,”

“This one, your grace?” she murmured, seeing a small phial of liquid. She sniffed it, the overwhelming scent of milk of the poppy hitting her nostrils.

“Mm.”

She handed the medicine to him, watching him struggle to even lift his bony, gaunt hand. She brought the lip of it to his mouth, listening to him greedily drink it as if it were the most delicious of wines.

“Much… better, thank you,” he breathed, putting his hand back over his forehead. “Have… you thought much more upon… Rhaenyra’s proposal?”

“Her proposal, your grace?” Shera responded meekly. She still wasn’t sure what to do in this situation, where the king thought she was Queen Alicent. Her hands shook as she put the empty vial back on the nightstand.

“Helaena… and Jacaerys… ‘tis a fine match… it would… reunite our… the… the house of the dragon.” 

Gods, what year did he think it was?

“... I am still mulling it over, my king,” she responded, glancing around the room for any way out.

“And… have Otto… send a raven to Lord Stark…” he wheezed. “Propose a union… between your ward… and Aemond. The North… has stayed out of the… realm for far too long…”

Aemond? There were talks of a betrothal to Aemond? Her heart began to race, even though she knew that the king’s mind was at least twelve years in the past or more– the mere thought of… it could’ve been true, it could’ve happened– 

She bit her lip until blood welled to the surface. Everything could have been different.

Did Alicent refuse? Was there… even a raven sent? 

“Yes, your grace,” she sniffed, holding back tears. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Alicent.”