#Steam deck my beloved

[bs0da]

Came to see his husband in action✨

[thejediexile]

I cant believe i missed the owlcat pathfinder games

Ive been playing them all weekend, WotR is legitimately a better crpg than bg3

[intertexts]

sorry for complaining so much about my current situation however it's kind of like my personally tailored saw trap or something

[yourpaceangel]

Sure you guys are mutuals but did they send you a steam deck for Christmas?

[seijorhi]

rhi i love you and i have a question. actually not a question, more like i want to hear your thoughts. i’m thinking about this for years, still cannot decide; would kenma be a chill yandere or a freaky one. sometimes i'm like, "he'd be horrible. jealous and obsessive. also he'd stream fcking darling" and sometimes i think "no cute patootie yandere" what do you think about him? thank u❤️ (also english is not my first language sorry for mistakes lol)

nonnie ily

ok so kenma, my beloved kenma. personally, i think the closest you get to soft, 'cute' kenma comes with physical touch. the man will drag you over to the couch and make you lie down with him while he fucks around on his phone or steam deck or whatever. if he's gaming on his pc, you're either perched on his lap, or on the floor with your head on his thigh. he's like a house cat who's decided his favourite place to curl up is wherever you are. run your fingers through his hair and scratch his scalp and he'll melt.

but he isn't sweet. or soft. or particularly gentle for that matter.

kenma won't bother with an act. he's not going to pretend to be the perfect boyfriend, or charm his way into your pants. he's lazy; work smarter not harder and all that. he can't stand you being around other people, keeping you permanently at his apartment solves that problem. why go to all that extra effort if he doesn't have to? kenma doesn't want you to exist for anyone but him. if there was a button he could press to erase you from everyone else's mind, he'd slam it in a heartbeat. he's selfish, covetous. a dragon with his precious hoard.

so i don't think he'd necessarily jump at the idea of streaming you two fucking. he's more likely to make you cock warm him while he's live, out of sight of the cameras, or cuff you to the bed with a remote controlled vibrator and a pair of panties shoved in your mouth and tell you to keep it down, he's got a conference call he's gotta dial into. it's exhibition without the show.

[writefightandflightclub]

Blurb request?

What if you stole Santiago's favorite hat, and he caught you wearing it, very casual, nothing to see here, nothing at all.

Make you mine: Santiago “Pope” Garcia x GN!reader

Thanks so much for sending this, Rally! 🧡☺️ I wrote a hat-based thing with Frankie x reader, but I gave this a bash too as I love the concept with Santiago (my beloved) too! I hope you like it!

Warnings: fluff, steam, lots of mentions of erections, cum kink sorta (brief), light-hearted. 🧢 🍆

A hard swallow trails down Santiago’s neck as he clocks you. Wearing his hat.

He’s arrested by the sight of you, an instant flare of heat blooming across his skin as he realises, in no time at all, that he likes it. Likes seeing you in something of his. Or more so, looking like you’re his by association.

The attached and very intrusive thought is powerful and sudden on the heels of that realisation.

He’d love to see how you’d look wearing his hat and nothing else.

He quirks a brow in interest. He didn’t know that, specifically, would do it for him, but in fairness, he’s pretty sure you are the common denominator here. With you, he’s always discovering new ways that you turn him on.

Shame he can’t act on it though. You and he have been flirting back and forth, sure. But, you’d told him, not long after you’d met that… things were complicated for you. You and him? Maybe there was an instant spark, but you’d been clear the two of you would be nothing outside of friends.

So, he tries to compose himself as you walk over to him. A glass in each hand - one for him. “Thank you,” he smiles smoothly, clinking his glass with yours in a “cheers”.

The other boys have retired inside, after a poker night out on the deck. But you and he have lingered. For some air.

He lets his gaze linger on you, confident enough to drink you in for a stretched moment, your coy gaze even more alluring than usual from beneath the brim of his hat. He tries his best to ignore the blood thudding to his crotch. But you make that difficult to do - no-one else could ever.

“I’m cosplaying you.” You tease, brazenly acknowledging your blatant and unforgivable theft. “Pass me a stick of Wrigleys, Santi? It’ll really up my authenticity.”

He chuckles. Unable to take his eyes off of your bright smile. Your gaze flits gently over his face in return. Lingers on the creases radiating out around his eyes. Dips to his mouth. It makes him self-conscious - which he isn’t used to. Then again, he’s never met anyone who has quite the effect on him that you do.

He perches himself on top of the wooden porch rail. Gestures for you to join him and you seat yourself there too, body angled in towards him.

He can’t help it now. Looks up at his cap perched on your pretty head. He spreads his thighs a little to accommodate his growing bulge between his legs. “-You know. If any of the boys touched my hat…”

“Oh, I know,” you pout comically, shaking your head side-to-side. “Dead to you.” So you know his hat is famously off-limits then? In that case, either you must have put together that he’s a soft-touch for you; or, you’re trying to provoke him. But hey. He doesn’t exactly mind either option. “So.” You take a casual sip of your drink, your eyes flashing with mischief from over the brim. “The boys would be in for it. But what will my punishment be?”

Santiago takes a deep, steadying breath he dearly hopes is subtle as the bulge between his legs grows uncomfortably swollen, pressing up against the seam of his jeans in a way that makes his eyes prick with tears.

Fuck, he doesn’t normally have this much trouble controlling himself; but there’s something about you. Lord knows, he’s trying to keep his internal monologue clean but all he can think is: mine.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Undoubtedly, he can think of a few (hundred) ways he could “discipline” you, if that’s what you’re into. His palm itches where it rests against his thigh, becoming suddenly tacky.

“Well. First of all. Here,” he offers, pulling a pack of gum from his pocket. “You’re not really nailing ‘me’ yet. Needs more work.”

Nailing him? Fuck, that’s an unfortunate choice of words when he’s trying to take his mind off of ravaging you.

“No?”

“Not seeing the resemblance, cariño.”

“Well. That checks out.” You tug performatively on the brim of his cap as though you know exactly what you’re doing to him, actually. “I am a hell of a lot cuter.”

Fuck, you’re not wrong. You’re fucking adorable.

You take a piece of the offered gum, beginning to chew rather obnoxiously on it. “How about now?”

An easy laugh bobs in his neck. “Holy shit. Now it’s like looking in a mirror.”

You slide closer to him, shimmying yourself along the porch rail. An urgent heat prickles at his skin. Your proximity slips a warm snake down his spine.

“So, you approve, Santi?” Santiago could swear your voice has taken on a lusty quality. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking on his part. “You like me wearing your hat?”

He almost chokes on his masking swig of his drink. Christ, if you only knew how much he approves. If you could see the sordid images playing on a loop in his head right now? Well, you’d probably throw your drink in his face, to be honest. Actually - he could do with it, to cool off. Maybe he can pour his own drink over himself if things get really dire.

“You think Frankie’s cap would suit me too? Or do I look better in yours?”

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Even the drum of his heartbeat feels like it’s trying to claim you. Trying to bust out of his chest to reach out for you.

Fuck. Are you trying to kill him? He doesn’t have a gasket, but he’s pretty sure he’s about to blow one all the same. “You know you look good,” he assures huskily, voice hollowed out by want, though still trying his damn best to toe the line.

Friends. You don’t want him to do the things he’s doing to you in his head right now. Right?

You smirk, looking all too pleased with yourself before taking a swig of your drink. His gaze is fixated on you as you wrap your plush lips around the mouth of the bottle, your fleet of pink tongue poking into the rim. The image certainly is… inspiring.

Fuck, he’s sweating. Swipes the back off his hand across his forehead, catching the moisture gathering inexplicably at his temples.

Then, to his horror, you stand, slinking towards him and slotting your hips in between his spread thighs. You crane around his form, careful that the brim of his own hat doesn’t poke his eyes out, and you dip your plush mouth towards this shell of his ear. Your whisper beds down right under his skin. “How do you think I’d look wearing this and nothing else, Santi? Would I look like I was…yours?”

Wearing my hat. Wearing my hat. Wearing my cum.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

Santiago’s brain fully short circuits. He blinks dumbly at you, mouth slightly agape, as you simply look on in amusement, biting down on your lip.

It’s not like he doesn’t want to jump at the chance to find out, but…

He sniffs. Shoots for non-chalant and doesn’t pull it off. “I thought we… I thought. Just friends?”

“Santiago,” you purr. “I stole your hat. Catch-up.”

Catch-up? Holy shit. Maybe he’d have a clue what you were up to if he could think straight. His erection is straining against his pants so hard now he has to shift his hands to cover it. Has to bite back a strangled whimper at the painful pinch.

Your mouth twitches around a delicious self-satisfied smirk as you clock the state he’s in. You giggle, brazenly eyeing his bulge with interest. “Benny told me this might do the trick.”

Santiago’s eyes tighten then. He pouts up at you, eyes twinkling, almost wistful. “Honey.” He lifts the hat from off of your head, setting it down on his own instead. “You? You don’t need any tricks.”

“No?”

Fuck, the way you’re both so devious and so shy at the same time is killing him. “Nuh uh. I’ve wanted you for a long time. You’re gorgeous.”

He boxes you in a little more tightly with his sturdy thighs. Slips his hands on to your waist. Your breath hitches, and he likes the fact he’s finally managing to turn the tables. He dips his mouth towards you, and you manoeuvre around the brim of his cap until your mouth is a whisper away from his kiss. “Wait,” you urge. “I have gum.”

He can’t help but laugh - a resonant chuckle shucking in his throat- as you take a moment to toss it aside, and then he’s just looking at you again. Gaze flitting softly over your face. Arms drawing you close to him once more until his lips brush yours. The contact sends tingles all the way down to his toes; he’s waited so long for this.

He deepens the kiss, soft and more tentative than he’d usually pitch it, his tongue probing into your mouth, but you return his growing fervour. Your palms brace against his sturdy thighs, and he swallows the smooth moan which blooms from your mouth as he clasps you to him.

You pull back for air, looking slightly giddy, and you survey him, a cheeky, devilish glint in your eyes. “You know. You look really fucking good in my hat, Santiago.” Your dark, teasing voice is like honey poured into his middle.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You look like you’re mine.”

He shucks air from between his teeth in surprise, his face splitting into a lopsided, awed smile. His eyes turn dark with hunger, pupils eating away at warm umber.

He is. He is yours, if you want him.

He decides then, that he can push this a little further. You seem keen - and Lord knows he is. And so, with a knowing, playful smirk, he dips his lips forward towards the shell of your ear. Whispers to you. “So, how about I wear this and nothing else for you?”

You visibly shiver as his words wind their way into you, your smooth facade cracking apart. “Santiago. Fuck. Are you trying to kill me?”

With his erection continuing to throb against the seam of his pants, he really thinks it’s the other way around.

“No,” he promises. “Only trying to make you mine.”

Mine. Mine. Mine.

That’s all he’s wanted since he met you.

He devours your mouth in another hungry kiss, tongue shoving against yours, opening you up. Stubble raking over your skin.

And, before your delicious kiss knocks every other thought - and word and concept - right out of his head, he logs the fact he definitely owes Benny a favour.

Mine. Mine. Mine.

He always wanted to be more than friends.

[theblueflower05]

Heavy In Your Arms

A/N: We didn't get enough time at High Camp. I swear, it was the perfect setting for hurt/comfort. Forever upset about it.

Word Count: 5.5K

Warnings: Explicit smut. Aged Up characters. Talks of PTSD and war. Injuries. Blood. Angst. Cursing. Oral Sex(male receiving). Riding. Service Top Neteyam. Reader with a praise kink.

Summary: You and Neteyam find moments of peace during the war. Neteyam x Fem! Omaticaya Reader

I was a heavy heart to carry,

My beloved was weighted down.

My arms around his neck,

My fingers laced a crown- Florence & The Machine

Life can change in an instant.

One moment, things are as they have always been. Your existence a well loved pattern, easy and comfortable in the Forests of Pandora.

You had been born after the Long War, after the evil Tawtute had been sent back to their dying planet. You had only ever known peace and kind humans like the scientist that lived in the rickety out post. You’d only ever known the rich and abundant rule of Toruk Makto, Jake led your people to victory and prosperity. The Omatikayan Village had been a beautiful one to grow up in, colorful and cheerful and thriving despite all that it had endured.

Your days had been filled with community and childlike wonder.

That had all changed when the Sky People returned. When they set fire to the Forests just to watch the Great Mother bleed.

Your naivety had been stolen, snatched away by uncontrollable circumstances.

By war.

High Camp is nestled deep within the Ayram Alusing hidden in a twisting impenetrable cave system.

It is bustling and busy and just bit cramped.

The Omatikaya are a resilient people and even through forceful uprooting had managed to make due of the space given. The Stronghold is littered with Canvas tents and woven mats. Small burning fires, and a larger one for the communal meals that are so desperately needed after long days battle.

You spend most of your time in the main healers keklu, working tirelessly with Mo’at and the other medicine leaders. You’d never been much of a healer, always more of a story teller. You’d get lost in the tales of old, in the songs of the ancient ones, but since the invasion, most had honed their medical craft.

It was all hands on deck, wherever you could be helpful you would be.

It’s good. Keeping your hands full is a good thing. It helps to distract your restless mind.

The War Party had left early in the morning- the sun still hiding behind the shadow of the eclipse, and had still not returned yet. You fear that it might be one of those missions, the kind that lasts days and leaves the village in shambles as they wait for the return of the warriors.

You’re grinding Ti’ku’klu seeds into a fine paste, your arm tired as you stare wordlessly into nothing.

The healers tent is quiet, filled with only low chatter and the crackling of the fire, the boiling of the pot that contains a potent medicine. One that needs to be kept hot and steaming. You cant seem to be present, to keep up with conversation when your mind is so far away- soaring over the forest. Focused on the unseen battle

This would be a dangerous one, you’d heard the whispers of the people. The humans were growing sick of the raids. They had heavy precautions laid out- would kill any Na’vi on sight. You trusted your Olo’eyktan whole heartedly, truly, you did.

But the thought of having to lay any more of your brothers and sisters to rest made bile raise in your throat like acid. There had been so much death, so much loss.

You sneak a peek at the woman next to you as she works in sorting bandages.

Zephya is only a few years older than you- and yet the light seems to be gone from her eyes. Dimmed down to something small and wilting. You’d never forget the piercing sound of her cries, echoing off the rock cave walls as her munxatan’s (husbands) body was brought back from the last raid.

Another round of nauseating anxiousness churns in your stomach.

You dont know if you could survive it…

Would you be forced to? Would this war force you to watch the ones you loved die?

The thought of losing your own lover is enough to send you free falling. Spiraling into your own mind.

“That is quite enough” Mo’at tuts her tongue in your direction and you stare at her with a wide, almost guilty expression. Had the Tsahik heard your thoughts? Sometimes you didnt doubt the elderly woman could, with all of her boundless knowledge and those all knowing amber eyes “You will destroy the paste, it is not meant to be so thin”

“Oh” you feel like dunce as you look down at the mortar and pestle in your hand “I apologize, I just wanted to make sure it was well mixed”

“Hmm” she doesn't call your bluff “Why dont you take a break. Go find more herbs, the fresh air wll clear your head. You’re no used to me here with thoughts so loud”

Her words are casual but her gaze is knowing and warm and you nod eagerly “Of course, Tsahik”

You’re happy for the break and the opportunity to stretch your legs, you stand quickly and exit the incense heavy area.

Everyone has gotten good at pretending.

At pretending they’re not terrified, at trying to go on with any semblance of normalcy. The scientists still gather near their trailers, facemasks on and typing away at holo tablets. The karyus’ still teach the younglings, their little giggles can be heard in the distance. You smile, a very practiced mask, at any you pass. Are pleasant. Friendly. Not betraying the inner turmoil you feel-

You’re jostled out of the heavy thoughts.

Nearly rushed straight on your ass, more like it.

“Oof-” the wind is knocked out of you as a small but solid weight collides with your side. You look down and find big golden eyes string up at you- golden eyes so familiar.

“Y/N! Hi!” Tuktirey is the youngest Sully, and probably the one you’ve always been the cloestst to. Back home, years ago, she’d become a bit enamored with you. More specifically, you’re weaving and jewelry crafting skills. Many teased that she was your shadow. “Look, look’it what I made”

You cant help but grin. Her joyful energy is contagious and you’re glad for the distraction. You take the necklace she shoves into your face delicately. Run your fingers over the rows of mis matched beads. She really is quite good.

“Very pretty, Tuk. You’re getting so good! Soon you;ll take my place- the whole clan will be trampling over themselves to wear one of your pieces” You’re words make her blush, make the smile on her face go a bit shy and bashful.

She looks so much like her brother it hurts.

“I did that thing you showed me! You’re right- sometimes the bigger beads need the little ones to anchor them”

Tuk is rarely quiet, always a babbling brook but even she isnt immune to the tense atmosphere that looms, to the toretoure that is waiting for the warriors to return. She talks about the necklace, but her tail flicks nervously behind her. At her side, a carved wooden Toruk toy hangs in her loose grip.

You figure, maybe you can distract her too.

You reach for the toy and she holds tight to it before sighing. You’re probably going to take it, she thinks. Tell her to stop being annoying. Chastise her the way that others had when she’d tried to get them to play with her. All day long, everyone had turned their heads or sighed in annoyance when she’d approached-

You raise the wooden Toruk above her head- and let out an undignified squawk. Your best impression of the mighty beast. It’s dismal, but it seems to satisfy the little girl who instantly breaks out into giggles.

“You better run, Tuk Tuk” you grown payfully, sending the toy into a nosedive “Before I eat you whole”

She shrieks and sets out running in the opposite direction and take after her, ignoring the stares. Should you be back in the medicine tent helping? Maybe. You’d rather play with the seven year old instead.

The two of you play for a while, until your thighs burn and your lungs hurt from laughing. You dont have the endurance of a child, she runs absolute circles around you. She’s fast and agle and quite obviously takes Neytiri’s lessons to heart, even at her young age. You can only use your size to you’re advantage, picking her writing squirming body up and spinning her round-

The horn is loud and echos through the rock walls of the cavernous case.

Both yours and Tuk’s ears swivel, perk up and stand to attention.

There it is. The calls of your people. The sounds of ikran wings flapping.

Tuk writhes in your hold, the back of her head connecting with your lip painfully as she hollers joyfully “They’re back!”

Shes off then, only sparing you a quick glance as you seem to stand there in daze, rubbing your slightly split lip lightly as your stomach does somersaults.

“Come on!” The little one hollers back at you and your feet carry you forward, seemingly of their own volition.

The crowds are building as the people make their way for the edge, where ikrans land by the dozen. Carrying the warriors on their back. Along the way, Kiri and Spider join you. Eagerly bouncing along, following an over animated Tuk.

Excitement and dread bubbles in your stomach, a horribly potent and toxic mix. It’s always like this when they return. When he returns. You’re so anxious to see him, physically there. Alive. So anxious that he might not be-

Your eyes are peeled for the familiar swirling green and blue patterns of Atanzaw, his ikran.

“Mom!” Tuk screeches, of course she spots them first.

Your eyes follow her,

Straight to him.

Neteyam.

He dismonts his ikran, alot less gracefully then his mother did. His actions sluggish and unlike him- it only takes you a moment to notice how injured he is. The bleeding wounds and bruises that litter his body arent pretty and hes limping, not putting his full weight on his right thigh. His face in smeared war paint- blacks and yellows and greens. They make him look intense, as he stangs tall and muscular and still fully dressed in his tsamsiyu(warrior)garb.

When his gaze meets yours your breath gets stuck in your throat.

Usually when he returns they’re bright. The adrenalin of the fight still cursing through his veins like wildfire- this time thats drained. His eyes are filled with barley concealed dread. Sharp with pain.

Your fingers itch and your chest aches, the invisible string that ties you to him taught. You want nothing more then to go to him-

“Sully’s, fall in” Jake’s voice is booming and stern. All Olo’eyktan. Marine. War leader. You can barley recognize him like this. So far away from the carefree doting father he’d always been.

-Its a small thing. A barely there shake of Netryam’s head but it sends a clear message. He doesn't want you to approach. When he turns away from you, giving you the necessary but cold shoulder your unsettled stomach lurches.

It’s like it plays out in slow motion, you watch the family from the edge. An outsider. Not welcome in their obviously private conversation. Even Spider, a human, get’s to be closer than you do.

You’re unwelcome.

The heated words. The way that Jake scolds his sons, you’re not supposed to be privy to it.

“Jesus, I let you two geniuses lead a fleet and you disobeyed direct orders!”

Those words hurt you, for him. You know that they must peirce right through Neteyam. He still hasnt looked back in your direction and you are sure he doesnt want you to bare witness to any of it.

You slink away, slowly falling back. Fading into the background of loved ones reuniting. Warriors returning, alive and dead. The clan welcoming them back with open arms. You wish, as you so often do, that you could welcome Neteyam the same. That you could run into his arms. Hold him the way you ache to after these difficult and dangerous missions-

You convince yourself that you are content with just knowing that he is alive, and make your way back to the healers tent where your presence is wanted.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It gets so cold in the mountains. Frigidly so.

The wind whips through the caves, leaving a bone deep chill in their wake. You keep the fire at the center of your tent going all night long, and can normally be found crouching at it’s hearth. It’s been raining on and off all day, torrential down pour to drizzles- from the sound it seems as though it has finally stopped. Quieted down.

You wonder if the sky is clear and the stars are bright. You miss climbing high into the trees after the evening eclipse. Miss gazing at the constellations, miss basking in the Pandoran night and listening to the sound of the forests.

Mo’at had sent you home, demanding you get some sleep.

It had been three days since the soldiers had returned and they had been very busy. Full of tending to the wounded, and organizing for the dead. You’d thrown yourself headfirst into anytask that was given to you. Kept yourself busy. Useful.

You didnt have the time to mope and obsess over a man that was not yours.

That is what you told yourself at least.

This…thing that you and Neteyam shared didn't have a name or a definition. It had started out of loneliness, out of the desperation for comfort. Before the humans had come back and brought their war upon the clan, you dont think the future Olo’eyktan had ever really looked at you twice. Violence and hurt had pushed you into eachothers arms, both of you seeking companionship. Someone to weather the storm with.

It wasnt love. Not to him, you know that. He would marry a woman with high standing one day- one that could be his match. Become Tsahik.

That wouldnt be you.

For Eywa’s sake, you could barely do stitches. You messed up simple tasks like making salves. You would not delude yourself into thinking it was anything more. Many Na’vi couple without mating, pleasure isn't stigmatized in your community. That was all it was. A need for pleasure. Your body satiates him and that is all.

You cant go looking for him. Begging for his time or his touch.

So you sit by your fire, thread your necklaces, and long for the stars.

You’re humming a tune to yourself, something soft and gentle and melodic when theres a sudden shift. The canvas wall of your tent shakes and your stiffen, reaching for your knife that lies on the makeshift table next to your bed-

Neteyam slips through the flap- easy as anything. Smoothly, his motions fluid from all of those years of training.

Your eyes and mouth are wide open, ears lying low to your head.

“Hi” the man grins, boyish and handsome as ever.

As though he hadnt just broken into your home. It’s not like the two of you hadnt done this before, he’d spend many nights sneakily tucked inside your tent but he usually came through the front entrance.

“Vonva!(asshole)”you hiss at him, exasperated “You- ugh! I couldve stabbed you!”

He’s so handsome it makes you sick. He’s so tall and broad, a few of his braids falling into his face as his eyes sparkle with mirth “That would not be very nice of you, what have I done to deserve such a fate?”

“Breaking and entering is grounds for stabbing” you huff “you scared me!”

Neteyam steps forward a bit, hands out stretching to you, tone gentle “Hey, I didnt mean to scare you. I just wanted to see you is all, Im sorry”

You hate the way that you’re so easy for him. He ignores you for days, and then shows up unannounced and you’re jumping at any and all attention he may give you.

The way that as his large hands engulf the tops of your arms, you lean into his touch greedily.

“It’s fine. It's just- very late. I wasn't expecting anyone” you try to keep your tone even “I was actually about to go to bed”

“Oh?” Neteyam wonders, his tail flicking behind him “Can I join you?”

Your heart speeds up, if thats even possible. Both at his words and his tone. The insinuation right there. He had spent too much time in your bed that really, it shouldn't be a question. You'd always welcomed him into your nest of blankets, your warm arms. In between your soft thighs-

“I'm not sure that would be a good idea” you respond, stepping out of his hold.

Neteyam sags a bit, surprised. His ears swivel and his smile weans, tugging downwards at the corners of his full lips “Not a good idea? Why not?”

You shrug, not able to look directly at him. Instead focusing on his shoulders. His abdomen. He’s still all banged up, the bandaging covering his bruises are expertisley wrapped. Done by the Tsahik herself, obviously.

It’s the perfect excuse.

“You’re still hurt,” you insist ”You need to be careful, you don't want to reopen anything”

A smooth chuckle escapes him and makes a tingle run down your spine. He reaches out again, this time he grabs at your hand, leading it from its place awkwardly at your side to his chest. Pressing your palm gently against his warm skin.

“I'd like to stay with you tonight, if you’ll let me” Neteyam starts, you can feel the vibrations of his strong voice in your palm, pressed against the muscle “I may need you to be a little bit gentle with me though, paskalin”

You're quiet, lips quirked, stuck in your head for a moment as your fingers lightly trace over one of his stripes.

“Y/N, hey-” He seems to be more serious than before as he urges you to look at him “I'm not sure what’s wrong, but If you want me to go I will”

Everything in your body, your soul, protests at his words. There is no part of you that wants him to leave.

You’re being so stupid.

Neteyam could have anyone. Anyone. And he’s here, with you. So what if he doesnt love you. You have to take whatever you can get. You dont want him to find solace with anyone else, dont want him to leave and never return-

You lean in, where your hand is, on his strong chest and place a kiss to the edge of the bandaging. Its a small little thing, a barley there brush of your lips but still. When you look up at him through your lashes you know you must make quite the sight.

“Stay” you urge. “I want you to stay with me tonight,” everynight. ”Please?”

He looks unsure for just a moment, clearly thrown off by your conflicting mood, before he nods. He cups the side of your face then, forcing you to make eye contact with him. No matter how uncomfortably intense- you cant turn away.

“Can I kiss you?” His words make you quake. He hadnt asked, so explicitly, for months. Since the two of you were still fumbly and newly exploring eachothers bodies.

It makes butterflies erupt in your stomach, makes you giddiously nervous. You nod, way too hard “Mhmm”

And then he’s bending down, having to crouch because of how much taller he is, to capture your lips with his own.

Its always so good.

His mouth and the way it tastes and the way it makes you feel. Neteyam seems so sweet, everyone in the clan knows him as the Golden Boy. The perfect soldier- in privacay, in these stolen moments of intimacy, he’s anything but.

His kisses are dirty, all demanding tongue and nipping fangs. He kisses like a man whos trying to get his dick wet. Like he wants to pick you up, crush you to him. Rut into you-

And normally he would. Normally he tosses you around like nothing but a child’s ragdoll(and you let him), but he’s still hurt. Still tender and healing. When you wrap your arms around his shoulders and tug, trying to climb him like a tree, he hisses in pain,.

“Shit” you pull away from his mouth, your lips wet with his saliva “Sorry, I didnt mean to”

He just shakes his head, nuzzling at your cheek “It’s fine, I’m okay”

“Im hurting you” you argue.

“You’re not. Just- be gentle, okay?” Neteyam urges, trying to lean back into the kiss “Grandmother thinks they’ll heal quickly, but my ribs-” he breaks himself off, laughing a little strained. “I fucked them up pretty good”

You frown.

He always does this. Always downplays his pain. You will have none of it, you grab his hand and tug “Come, I will make you tea”

Neteyams hairless brows raise “You dont have to, I’m really fine”

“Bah” you lead him to your bed and push gently on his shoulders until he sits. “Enough, it is no trouble”

You keep an ornate clay kettle next to the fire, boiling water always ready. He watches you as you fiddle with the many little jars in your arsenal, collecting herbs here and there. Steeping them in the hot water before pouring him a steaming cup.

“Here- it is bitter, but it will dull the pain”

Neteyam accepts the tea with a small smile “Irayo(thank you)”

It’s nice having him in your space. In your bed amongst all of your softest things as the fire crackles and illuminates the tent in a warm glow.

The shadows it casts over his angular face make him look haunting. So beautiful.

You like to take care of things. Instruments. Broken pottery. Children. It comes naturally to you.

You dote on him even though he protests, check his bandages and make him drink the whole cup of strong leaf tea, before he lies down. You're perched beside him, still on the edge of the bed mat.

“I didn't come here to be nursed, Y/N” he sighs as you rub salve on one of his nastier bruises.

“Humor me” you reply wryly, your dainty fingers all over him.

It takes him a while to relax, as it always does.

But oh, its your favorite thing.

Watching his walls come down and the facade of Olo’eyktan in training slip. Neteyam is funny and witty and a downright gossip. You enjoy talking to him as much as you enjoy getting fucked by him.

You like that when given the opportunity and the ear to do so; he loves to talk. About any and everything. His deep voice is like a blanket, warming you up from the inside out.

“I feel bad. I sneak in here; scare you and then make you take care of me” He snorts, “You must be so sick of me”

“No” you reassure with gentle touches “Never that”

You dont really know what Neteyam sees in you.

You’re pretty enough- but far from the gorgeous warriors and dancers that throw themselves at him. But when he looks at you, like he is now, you know there must be something. Something that turns those eyes of his to molten amber. They’re hungry, you’ve never seen him look at anything the way he looks at you. Except maybe the prey that ends up victim to his arrows.

He makes you want to be good to him. Be good for him.

“I enjoy taking care of you” you whisper as you trace the leather cords of his tweng, your fingertips dipping dangerously below them. “Can I take care of you tonight, Neteyam? You want me to?”

Neteyam nods slowly, making room for you as you climb carefully over him. Spread his legs enough for you to settle between them.

You cant help it, cant help how much you touch. You cant get enough of the feeling of his strong body under your hands. All of that corded muscle, all of his pretty deep tahini speckled skin. His strong calves, his well built thighs.

When you reach where he’s hard, straining against his cloth, his eyes flutter closed. You rub him until he chubs up, all plump and hard. Until a patch of wetness starts to darken the cloth-

“Help me a little, sayrip(handsome)”you urge as you tug on the strings of his tweng. Neteyam lifts his slim hips, helps you shimmy it down his thighs-

You’ve seen him naked more times then you can count, now. But still. You’re always struck by it.

His cock springs free- thuds against his well toned lower stomach. Drooling and pulsing, the tanhi there exceptionally bright. He’s so pretty, so vulnerable that it goes to your head. Your leaning in, tongue first-

“Wait,” Neteyam gruffs, “I want to see you too”

Ah.

Neteyam was very partial to your body. He’d told you many times- would try to wrangle you out of your skirt whenever he got the chance.

You smile, raising up on your knees before tugging the gossamer top off, over your head, Your nipples are hard and peaked, reacting to the cold. You run your fingertips over them, knowing that he likes a show. He likes to watch. He props himself, arm behind his head as he does so, it feels so lewd to play with your breasts for him. To trail your hands slowly down your tummy, to your full hips- tugging on the strings of your own tweng.

When the mound of your pussy is revealed he groans, he can see the way your slick shines in the low fire light.

“Good Mother” Neteyam’s rough and demanding as he yanks on you, pulls you into a kiss “You’re so fucking sexy”

His kiss is fervent and you could so easily lose yourself to them- you know what he wants. He’s already inching closer to your hot wet slit, his big fingers kneading at your plush asscheeks.

“Lemme take care of you” your mumble is insistent, and he sighs. Letting you pull away. Letting you re situate yourself between his legs.

He just lays back flat once more, a lazy grin on his face. “Okay, baby. Take care of me”

You’d always loved giving pleasure with your mouth, and lovers you’d had before had told you how good you were at it. You liked the taste and feel of a heavy cock on your tongue.

With Neteyam, as everything seems to be, it’s different. You dont just like giving him head, you love it.

You love the way that he jerks when you give his rosy tip that first little lick. You love the salty tang of his precum, so much that you spread it all over. Your lips, your cheeks. You rub his cock along your face, nuzzling it. Your cheeks, chin and nose wet with him. You love the way it stretches your lips as you take him into your mouth- he’s the biggest you’ve ever had and it pushes you to your limit. The hinge of your jaw aching as you force him down your throat.

“You’re such a good girl for me” Neteyam praises you, all choppy. His long fingers tangled in your waist length hair.

That is what you adore the most.

The Omaticayan prince is so vocal. He’s all whimpery moans and deep gritty groans. He lets you know exactly what he likes and doesn't like. And he rains down praise on you like its his job.

You’re his good girl. His sweet berry. His little whore..

You take it so well. So- ah- determined for him. You ram him down your tight convulsing throat ,until you’re sobbing around his dick. Never trying to pull away. Eager to get him off.

It is the most shameful position you’ve ever been put in. You’re addicted to the way that me makes you feel- you could never allow yourself to be this with anyone else.

“I-Im close” He warns as though that's not exactly what you want.

“Good” you hum, before diving back in. Suckling on the head and the sensitive sides of his shaft over and over. Just like you know he likes it.

It doesn't take long at all, you can feel him twitching n your mouth. His balls, so full and swollen, start to pull up, taught and ready to blow.

“Oh fuck, Y/N. Fuck”

He gasps as he knots his fingers at your scalp, as he holds on for dear life, his hips swiveling madly. His belly concaving with his heaving, rapid breaths as as his orgasm rips through him.

It’s a good one. You can tell. He’s biting his lips bloody and grinding his head back into your pillows, eyes tightly closed as he rides the waves of pleasure. The whole time, he fists your hair, holding your face to his crotch.

You take his cum, all of it. Popping the tip on your mouth and catching the thick spurts with your tongue. He tastes so good, it feels so intimate to get to have him like this. You close your eyes and savor it, dont pull off until he's twitching and whining with over sensitivity.

You sit back on your haunches, wiping your messy mouth clean with the back of your hand and assessing the damage.

Neteyam is all shivery, his arm thrown over his face as he comes down from the high. He’s still struggling to catch his breath and you cant help the pride that

“You feeling any better, baby?” the human term of affection rolls off your lips, smug and sultry and he laughs behind his arm.

It takes a few moments, but he finally collects himself “You are way too good at that” he’s told you before, but repeats it as he pulls you close. You’re perched in his lap, his strong arms around your waist as he holds you close.

“I like watching you” you admit between the pecking kisses “I like the way you come”

He smiles into your mouth, you can feel his sharp canines on your lips “That’s my good girl”

You full body shiver at the praise, gritting your forehead against his and breathing through your nose in an attempt not to lose it. You're gushing between your legs, your thighs a sticky mess and your cunt swollen and blood hot.

“Your turn, huh? Come on, I know that pussy has to be needy. You want me to eat it?” Neteyam whispers hotly in your ear and you just groan.

And while his skills with his tongue are legendary, you’re feeling particularly empty, needing to be full of him after weeks of distance “Mmm, no. Want you inside of me”

“Can do” he affirms, his hands going to your hips, nudging you “Lay down, I’ll fuck you, paskalin. I’ll fuck you so good. Wanna’ stretch you out”

“Wait” you press a hand to his chest when you notice the grimace on his face. The one he’s trying to hide as he attempts to lift you “You’re still hurting, Nete”

“I’ll be fine, I’ve got you” He assures, stubbornly “I want you to feel good, too”

He’s not the only one who's stubborn. You wiggle out of his grip, pressing down firmly on his chest.

“We can try something else” you suggest, really not wanting him to hurt himself even worse. Neteyam can get…intense when hes fucking you. It’s all very physical, he pours buckets of sweet down onto you as he works your body.

“You want to get fucked” He reminds you, his hips jerking up pointedly so that you can feel his erection between your legs.

Eywa, yes you do. You want him, you want him to carve his way into your body. To bully your tight walls until they accommodate his wide girth.

You bite your lip and reach for his length, pumping his cock thats still wet with your spit before leaning in close so that you can whisper in his ear “We’re just going to have to compromise”

Neteyam is huffy until you sink down onto him and ride him until neither of you can formulate thoughts.

Until you’re boneless, tangled limbs and buried under your quilts.

The afterglow is your favorite.

Neteyam is always so gentle and tender after sex. He holds you, lets you lie your head on his chest and listen to the steady thrumming beat of his heart as he plays with your hair. The only thing that could make this better is if he reached for your kuru. Is if you got to experience Tsaheylu with him-

It’s not fair,

How could he expect you not to fall in love with him?

The quiet stretches on. The fire is dim and dying and the tent is mostly black, night creeping in and covering you both in darkness.

“I’m sorry” his voice almost startles you, his words confusing and unexpected “I’m sorry I ignored you- the day we came back. I was trying to figure out how to calm my dad down. He was so pissed and Lo’ak’s attitude only makes it worse-”

You don't say anything. You just keep listening to his strong heart.

“I didn't mean to hurt your feelings”

You don't respond for a while. You don't want to shatter the atmosphere that is shimmy fly wing delicate “I was just happy to see you alive. It terrifies me, that you’ll leave on one of these raids and never come back. I dont- I wouldn't know what to do if that happened”

“I'm not going to leave, Y/N” his arms tighten around you and you close your eyes, relishing the way he holds on to you. It makes you feel like maybe you're not the only one desperate for this to never end.

“Do you promise?” You sound young, look so small in his big arms.

“I promise”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Weeks later, The Sully’s leave the tribe.

They’re running, fleeing for the good of the Omaticaya people- that is what Jake says. He claims it is for the best. You have never doubted his prowess as Olo’eyktan until that moment.

The tribe mourns, falls into great sorrow as the family says their goodbyes.

You can not bear to look. You drown in your tears and hide in the crowd. Will not meet Neteyams gaze no matter how much he tries to get you to.

When he mounts his ikran and takes to the skies you feel something inside of you shatter. He disappears into the vast horizon.

Neteyam leaves.

You were a fool to believe he’d keep his promise.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Welp. Um hi guys lol. I was like let me post something short and sweet to come back with before I start hitting you guys with all of my Kinktober prompts next month. Somehow I ended up with a 5k angst filled what could be first chapter of a series. LOL I HATE MYSELF AND THE FACT THAT I CANT WRITE ONE SHOTS.

I literally don't have the time to work on another story, but if this one was a little too much angst, I'd be glad to give us a fix it Part Two.

This will be the last kind of stand alone update until after October. If you havent alread, check out Luna’s( @pandoraslxna )Kinktober prompt list. She is such a gem for cultivating it and helping keep this fandom alive and thriving.

As usual, please leave me some feedback. Good, bad(not mean though lol my psyche’s very fragile rn) I want to hear your thoughts!

Love ya, pretty babies!

[umbracirrus]

He does, indeed, look fine.

I need to see what Balgruuf looks like wearing the fine clothes. Like the ones Brynjolf wears. For science.

[ryuryuryuyurboat]

sunsettias n' apples

synopsis: you always hated birthdays. but now? you're not so sure.

genre: fluff (slight comfort)

characters: cyno x gn! reader

warnings: established relationship, reader is referred to in 2nd person

a/n: @thexianzhoujade happy birthday kaikai >:) you thought you got enough gifts? yeah, well, here's another! ilysm big bro mwamwah may today be a good day for you💗 | likes, reblogs and comments highly appreciated!!

©2024 ryuryuryuyurboat. do not repost, translate, plagiarise, or modify in any way, shape or form.

masterlist

oh, how you loathed birthdays. were they special? no, not really. what purpose did celebrating birthdays serve, anyway? weren’t they just… reminders of your age? 

you lay on your bed with your eyes closed— if i don’t open my eyes, the day hasn’t come yet— and an aroma wafted into your nostrils. huh.

you entered the kitchen to the sight of your boyfriend standing in front of the stove, spatula in hand, proudly donning an apron that said ‘kiss the chef’. at the sound of your footsteps, he turned. “good morning! sleep well?”

“not really.” you mumbled, rubbing the sleep out of your eyes. “you’re making breakfast?”

“of course.” cyno replied without missing a beat, setting down a plate of still-sizzling mushroom omelette and steaming tachin in front of you. “c’mon, eat up, we’ve got places to be.”

“???”

the second you cleared your plate, you were immediately shooed into your bedroom to change into clothes, and then forcibly dragged out of your shared house. 

your itinerary that day was packed to the brim, to say the least. cyno took you on a shopping spree at the grand bazaar– anything that remotely appeared to catch your eye was promptly picked up and paid for by your beloved, then took you to watch a dance performance put together by the zubayr theatre troupe, where nilou specially dedicated one of her dances to you, followed by a huge lunch at puspa café, some more sightseeing around sumeru after…

by the time evening came around, you were sitting at the top of a hill just by the outskirts of sumeru city, watching the sun as it began to dip below the horizon. saying you felt exhausted would be a bold understatement, what with everyone who came forth to wish you ‘happy birthday’ and all the walking you did throughout the day. 

the grass rustled as your lover moved to sit next to you. “hey,” he offers you a sunsettia, “y’know, it’s a good time to eat this.”

“why?”

“because it’s sunset. get it? sunsettias and sunset?”

“babe…”

as you watched dusk fall over the world, for the first time in a very, very long time, your heart felt at peace. when was the last time you’d had a good birthday?

an apple blocks your vision of the sun. “almost forgot to say something.” 

“mhm?”

“you’re the apple of my eye, y/n.” 

“cyno!!”

“c’mon, let’s go home. everyone’s waiting for us, and i can’t wait for you to see the tcg deck i made specially for you.”

“there’s… wait, who’s ‘everyone’??”“you’ll see when we get back.” cyno stands, dusting off his clothes, “it’s your birthday, after all. you couldn’t possibly have thought a date sufficed, right?”

taglist: @xianyoon @lynyluvr @kazemiya @meidnightrain @dailypenpen (send ask to be added to taglist!)

if you liked this, do consider dropping me a follow for more :>

[hopeymchope]

The Danganronpa Another games (and the struggle to actually PLAY them)

Soooooooooooooo.... anybody know how to get these games running, perhaps on a Steam Deck?

Background:

It's looking unlikely we're going to see more Danganronpa Proper any time soon, so it's only natural that I'd be starting to look into fangans to try and find something to whet my appetite.

Doing that makes it quickly become clear that there are no "fangan" games as beloved or popular as the Korean-made Danganronpa Another duology. The second is particular beloved online, but of course I want to experience them in storyline order.

I'm also a firm believer that playing a game for yourself is fundamentally different than watching a let's play or whatever. There's nothing like the firsthand experience. Why would you EVER separate yourself from embodying the characters, being a part of the experience? You're losing so much.

The other problem here is that I don't want to try playing them on PC. Because (1) I'm only ever sitting at my PC when I'm working, and (2) it's pretty far isolated from everyone else in the house. I don't want to be sitting at my day-job workstation, alone, trying to get through these things.

But hey... I have other devices. And since the first Danganronpa Another is just an RPGMaker game, that seems simple enough to get running in theory..... right???

Last fall (2024), I tried to get the first "Danganronpa Another ~ Another Despair Academy ~" running on an Android gaming handlheld I have. I managed to play through the Prologue (see above) before... yeah, it died on me. It was too big a file for my handheld to manage, and it couldn't run the rest.

My next logical course of action, then, is to try and play these on a Steam Deck. But the Steam Deck is a damned Linux device. What I DON'T know about Linux could just about squeeze into the Grand fuckin' Canyon.

So uh. That's a current ongoing mission.

If anyone out there knows anything about how to get this going, can you let me know?

[littleballofanxiety]

I figured out how to install Gore onto the steam deck. My beloved will finally be with me on a different console.

Once I'm confident that it's all okay and that nothing is going to break, imma download vigilant (eventually). Can you download it mid game? Or does it require a new save? Either way, I'm excited.

So far, he's the only nexus mod (besides his depends and their dependent mods) I have installed atm, so if yall are interested, i can explain how I got it to work on the steam deck.

[ofthedevil]

Hi there! I just finished the demo and I can't overstate how much I loved it! The forensic and mystery details are so fucking tight and morgan my absolute beloved I'm obsessed

What's the pricing schedule gonna look like? Also will you eventually add controller support?

of the Devil will be a free game anyone can download on Steam and play through the entirety of Episode 0 in.

Episode 1, and all episodes to come, will be paid DLC you purchase for of the Devil in order to play that case.

Episode 1 is $9.99 before launch discount.

Controller support and more robust Steam Deck functionality is a post-launch goal for our team. The only recommended/assured way to play at launch is with Mouse and Keyboard.

[pyritefes2]

Wip Wednesday

Tagged by @salsedinepicta and @pinkfadespirit ❤️ Thank you!

Have some Awakening era beloveds. I don’t know if these are wips per se, more like warm ups for something I want to do but I feel it still counts..right? kinda? Kinda. I do want to color them, especially the one of Justice.

Also, after my laptop kicked the bucket and being so very bwave by modding my steam deck in order to play the damn thing, I’ve finally returned to my DA:I replay! So I’ve been drawing a lot of the DA:I companions, here’s the egg as proof.

Tagging: whoever wants to participate!!

[19thperson]

19th's Steam Next Fest Impressions Feb 2025 Edition - Day 1

Day 0

Played some demos today, but I was worn out enough that I don't feel fully confident in the actual writing of the impressions. Whatever though.

Monster Train 2

Aside from its floor system, the most unique and fun part of the original Monster Train was the fact that each run had the player choose two factions, like mixed color decks in Magic. I can't really gauge how it plays out here, because they only give you two factions here, no room to mix and match. Expected for a demo, but mildly frustrating.

They've added more to this game. the previous one was mostly "play cards and spells, then let character abilities and combat automatically play out." Here some units will have abilities that can be manually activated, with turn based cooldowns. You can now spend equipment on unit cards. You have floor cards that give special effects to individual floors. They've upped the complexity, but in my short time playing… It feels a lot less elegant. My mind might change as I get to grips with it, though.

Last one is that they're making this one more plotty. More characters with dialogue and character interactions between runs. And I can't really comment on it so far but… I don't think Monster Train needed this.

Creepy Redneck Dinosaur Mansion 3

Apparently this game has been a long running gag for Strange Scaffold, devs of El Paso Elsewhere, I Am Your Beast, and Clickholding. I am out of the loop of this specific joke though.

The game is a very loose parody of resident evil and survival horror games in general, in the form of a match 3 game. You come across a variety of obstacles, and each one you play a puzzle board to get resources to use skills to solve said obstacles. An interesting wrinkle is that after you make a match, whatever you're fighting gets a chance to match-3, so you not only need to get the symbols you need, but also try to starve out your opponent from getting the symbols they need. It also makes it harder to pull off multi-turn setups.

In between the match 3 matches is a simple text based exploration system, CYOA into different rooms and make different choices. Certain choices will unlock traits that will make new choices available in previous areas, so the devs call it a metroidvania even though it's…not. that?

Anyways, the team apparently has made a name for itself with it's writing, haven't played much of their output, but. That isn't on display here yet. Early on after dying once the protagonist realizes he's in a video game and a buggy as fuck one. And from there all the humor is gamer webcomic "isn't video game logic wacky" humor. The ability to go back with new traits is the protag exploring with "debug mode" on.

There is some mild intrigue with the very end of the demo, though, with the swerve that the protag learns his game is buggy because… it was cancelled. There's nothing for him anymore. And you could possibly go somewhere with that. I just hope they do so with a better set of jokes.

Detective Instinct: Farewell, My Beloved

Before anything else, I gotta say that I'm really digging this game's aesthetic. With it's chunky but detailed and expressive character sprites, but backrounds made with explicitly lower detail 3D, it screams original DS.

The interaction is the basic ADV-style "look at background to get bits of info and then run through every dialogue option with every character" that you get with phoenix wright investigation sections.

The plot of the game sounds interesting. During a cross country train ride, a woman disappears, and the protag and assistant duo seem to be the only ones who remember she actually existed. The plot of the demo… isn't much there. You don't even get on the train.

There is some intrigue. The game opening up with a man falling from a 5th story hotel room (and your player character getting falsely accused by the comic relief incompetent cop because he mixed up rooms 105 and 501). There's some fun interactions, like the eccentric detective letting tourists poke around a crime scene while all the other officers are sick of his shit or your weirdly excited co-traveler diving too enthusiastically into the opportunity, and it's all held up by great spritework, but you don't really get to solve anything.

So far, it's a game that runs solely on vibes. But the vibes are excellent.

Isopod

Like webbed before it, this game is a physics platformer starring realistic yet cute bugs in Australia. The biggest shifts are the move from 2d to 3d, and the inexplicable extra power moving from a laser to magnet powers.

The magnet is an equal parts blessing and curse. The name of the game is momentum, and aside from slopes the main tool to do this is using magnetic pull. When it works its incredible. But the game auto-targets what you're magnetizing to, and if you misjudge it, the closest magnet being behind you, you're whipped backwards and your momentum is killed. I'm not sure if it's a system issue or a skill issue.

I was frustrated with the demo's Koopa-the-Quick style race. The game asks you to run through gates, but their hitbox is relatively unforgiving, it's too easy to slip passed it when your momentum is high.

I wasn't able to finish this one due to time. I may revisit it, but for now I'll leave it as: Less intuitive than Webbed, but more potential. May need some polishing.

[somerandomjewelleryonthefloor]

❝Bubbles❞

Oliver x César unserious drabble (in which César was able to stay in the past)

In which Oliver & César take a bath together. Oliver gets a close up of César's scales, and a new hairdo suggestion, after an incredibly taxing day at "Poseidon's Revenge II".

Warnings?: while I do care about historical accuracy, I also don't. So don't expect EVERYTHING to be accurate to history please. I am a teen so I also do not know the taste of champagne, I looked it up. *update pending*

Oliver entered below deck of "Poseidon's Revenge II", the sounds of the sea and Port Tiburon goers outside laughing was all he could hear besides the throbbing pain in his head.

He sighed as he held an incredibly heavy bucket of water, filtered and hot with hot rocks in it. He had to stop walking every few seconds to catch his breath.

Having gotten flung into a wall after a choppy wave hit the nose of the ship, his head had been hurting for a while. So, to make himself feel better, he wanted a bath.

entering one of the seperate back rooms down below, he smiled as he sae the bathtub. A nice wooden bathtub filled with nothing but air, soon to be filled with hot hot water.

It was a big enough tub. It was at least 2/4 of the room, and would need 2 more buckets of water.

As he went over to the tub with the bucket in hand, he quickly tipped the bucket over. Filling the tub with hot scalding water, the steam filling the air in return.

As he held the bucket, now empty of rocks and water, he put it down and turned to walk out the room and grab the second one-

"My Oliver?" César appeared at the doorway, his beautiful hazel eyes striking Oliver into shock for a second.

"O... Oh. César, what are you doing down here?" Oliver asked him, walking towards him.

César looked over his shoulder, the sounds of laughter from upstairs were muffled.

"We're having dinner now, so..." César then eyed the bathtub behind him, "You're having a bath?"

Oliver nodded, and César moved to the side and let him walk by. Following him as went back up deck to grab the second bucket of scalding water.

"Should I just bring you a plate to eat down here?"

"You'd do that?" Oliver looked at César, a small smile playing at his lips, "If you could if you have time, that'd be lovely... Thanks, Darling."

César leaned his head on his shoulder as they walked together.

"..." César looked back at the pale face of his beloved Ollie, and he thought of that bath.

After thinking, César gave a suggestion.

"Maybe we could have a bath together, I'm getting tired of bathing in cold seawater everyday to stay fresh and clean..."

"... Sorry?" Oliver almost snapped his neck to look at him.

Growing up, he never dreamed of ever sharing a bath with anyone. Being the Admiral's son, at home he was able to have baths at least once a week and be clean. In lavish bathtubs made from tiles, and hot water to be in, he'd die at the suggestion of sharing his bathtub with anyone.

But right now, thinking about it a little more, it sounded... Nice, in a way. Very intimate, it made his face turn a lovely rosy-red, but nice.

Sharing a bath, eating dinner in peace in nice hot water, clinking bottles together, it sounded luxurious. Not truly as it was a wooden bath, in a ship, but with César- anything could be lavish.

"... I wouldn't be opposed..." Oliver mumbled, looking at his face before looking away.

"I'm gonna take that... As a No."

"What? Why? I'm saying I agree, dear" Oliver tilted his head, stopping in his place by the stairs.

César simply shrugged, looking at him before walking up the stairs.

"I need a clear "Yes" or "No", just to be sure." He then smiled, "Anyway, I'll help you with those buckets... I'm assuming you're coming upstairs for buckets..."

"That I am." Oliver nodded again.

2 minutes later, both César and Oliver were holding buckets. César held his bucket of hot water on-top of his head, whilst Oliver held his bucket of hot water in his arms to his chest.

Making their way downtown to the bathroom, walking fast, Oliver went in first and César second.

Going to the bathtub, Oliver filled the tub with his bucket. More steam coming out as he tipped it all in. Stacking the empty bucket on the first empty one. César then filled the tub with bucket, though his bucket looked off.

"... Is that sea foam?" Oliver asked, pointing at the white bubbles now filling the tub.

"Oh, these? Those are bubbles." César stacked his bucket on top of the other buckets, "In the future we have bubble baths- and they are..."

César clicked his tongue, putting up a thumbs up.

"Amazing."

"... Oh."

Looking at the bubbles, shining like pearls in a way, he didn't mind it now. If it was from César's time, then it must be at least soothing.

6 minutes later, with plates of mutton and bread, and 2 bottles of bubbly champagne sitting next to a makeshift table (one of the bucket's turned upside down), and a lantern in the corner for mood lighting, their bath dinner was half-complete.

Now helping him out of his clothes, César pulled Oliver's top from over his head, a silence befell the both of them as Oliver tried not to look awkward.

While undoing his bun, César's long nails lingered on the nape of his neck, his other hand reaching up and hold onto one of Oliver's pecks, looking into his eyes.

[uhm...] A small bead of sweat rolled down his forehead, his face turning even more rosy.

It made César smile, his hands moving to hold Oliver's face, feeling his thin cheeks, a sharp contrast to Edward's chub.

He backed away. Turning the other direction.

"I'll leave you to the rest" César said to Oliver, gesturing to his pants, before be took off his waist cinch.

And his top, the lace top underneath, and the scarf wrapped around his hips. Good lord does he layer.

Oliver was the first person of this entire time period to experience a bubble bath. Getting in after peeling off his clothes, the scalding water had turned a regular normal hot. Feeling the hot rocks at the bottom, he used his hands to move them away so he could get comfortable. All the bubbles gathered on him.

It stayed on his skin, making it glisten even more than it already did when the sun shined on him in the morning.

Oliver looked towards the ceiling as César got in on the opposite side to Oliver. Sliding in gently.

Being covered by his own hair and the bath bubbles, César gave him the okay to look back at him.

"You're good" he said, reaching his hand out to grab a mutton leg on his plate, taking a bite out of it.

Oliver could see the skin on César's arms, turning... Purple and teal. Flecks of gold throughout, and when César took a bite all he could see was sharp razors hidden behind his front 4 perfect top/bottom teeth.

Oliver knew César was part siren, and he knew César had scales and a tail as he'd seen it before. But only when he was on the ship and César was in the great cold seas. Seeing up-close was different. Maybe because he could see each individual scale, or how it looked when César was comfortable.

Oliver was a bit enamoured by how pretty it looked in the light. Almost forgetting his dinner.

"You gonna eat or what?" César asked

"H- oh. Of course I will." Oliver tried to play it off, though it was easy to tell he was trying not to tweak out over his beloved sharing a bath with him.

Ho, is you tweakin

Grabbing a big piece of his mutton, he ate it quickly. Having been hungry, he quickly ate his dinner. To his surprise, César was also finishing up his own.

Must be the razor teeth shredding it all in his mouth as he chewed. Hm.

Clearing his throat, Oliver grabbed his small glass that was half full of champagne, raising it before taking a slow sip. Bittersweet toast flavours went down his throat as he looked towards César.

"My darling, why is it that you're scales are teal and purple and gold?"

"why do you wanna know?"

"well... Before I met you, I only saw sirens in books. Illustrated, and descriptions of shimmering moon-silver scales..."

César thought for a moment. Grabbing his own glass of champagne and having a sip.

"That's because those depictions are from a branch family of sirens... The more bloodthirsty type." César paused, then continued, "They wear scales coloured of pearls because it makes them look more vulnerable..."

Oliver raised an eyebrow.

"If that's the case, why haven't I seen any other depictions of sirens in other colours?"

"Because others are more secretive. We sirens can be very valuable, monetary wise... So we keep to the depths of the ocean and eat fish or... Whatever..."

Oliver raised both eyebrows now. Sitting up. His golden locks sliding down his wet shoulders. So sirens were traded? Or bought for whatever purposes? That was... Well it made him uneasy. Especially since his dearest love is a siren.

But now more curious, he asked César another question.

"And what branch family are you from?"

César was caught off guard, chuckling. He almost forgot he never told people who he truly was.

"... Branch? Oh no, I'm from the original main family of Yehia's... Well, the original name is Seryroéal (Ser-o-ale), but it evolved into Yehia over time..."

Hearing the name roll of the tongue, Oliver was almost astonished at how pretty it sounded. How beautiful, Seryoéal...

César looked over Oliver's face, a small smile playing at his lips. Seeing his distant expression as he thought about what he just heard. His topaz eyes were stuck looking into the void as he rested his face in his right hand. He looked so cute, especially with his hair down for once.

Why did he look cute?... César didn't know. All he knew was that he was adorable, and he just wanted to kiss his face, hold it in his hands, and keep it tucked into his shoulder as he hugged him.

Looking over at him still, he wanted to go over and snuggle up next to him. The bath was still very hot, but he thought Oliver looked cold. Hm.

Deciding to go over to him, because he was in water his beautiful legs turned into a Beautiful trail. Huge, and thick, but beautiful. He had to move his tail to sit on-top of the edge of the bathtub, his fins dripping water onto the floor, as he turned around and shuffled backwards.

Doing so, he hit Oliver's shoulder with his back.

"Huh?" Oliver, now back to the present moment, was now aware of how close César was now.

César's shoulders rubbed up against Oliver's as he got comfy over there, laying his big tail over his legs.

"César? What are you doing...?"

Oliver tilted his head again, seeing his dearest wrap an arm around his neck.

"You look cold, so I came over here to make sure you aren't freezing anymore..."

"No, I'm fine..." Oliver confirmed.

César felt his cold shoulders as he leaned his head against it, his scales on his arm rubbing against Oliver's neck...

It made him shiver.

He reached up and held half his face with his hand, long nails covering some of his cheek as he tapped his nose.

"Well anyway, what's your opinion on bubble baths?" Changing the subject, he saw Oliver's pupils dilate a little bit.

"Well... I mean... It's as nice as you said, though I think it's because you're here that it feels great" he admitted.

César's hands then went into Oliver's hair, playing around with it. It wasn't as silky as his, but it was clean as could be, and fairly thin. He gave Oliver a quick kiss on his cheek as he did so, making him smile.

As he played around with his hair, César pushed his hands to the back of his head with his locks, and hummed. It was in the makeshift half-do. Smiling, he kissed his forehead.

"You should wear your hair like this... It looks cute..."

"..." Oliver wasn't particularly listening, because he just wanted to look at his boyfriend.

César looked at him and pulled one hand out of his hair to tap his nose, grabbing his attention once again.

"Huh?"

"You should wear your hair like this, in a 'half-up/half-down' style..."

"Well, if you think it looks nice..."

Oliver shrugged, his gaze going back to César's eyes. Getting lost in them once again. Giggling. César gave him a peck on his lips, both of his arms wrapping around Oliver's neck for a moment, before they moved to his torso. His arms rubbing his sides. He could feel Oliver's muscles, his ribs slightly, and he could feel Oliver's breath hitching.

How funny.

This man used to be a lieutenant for the literal British Navy, but now he was still apart of the British Navy- but he took time to have a day to be with him, and be a big darling, solely for his love of César.

I guess the quote "to be loved is to be changed" is true.

Giving him another kiss, César rested his head on top of his, sighing.

"we're gonna have to get out in a bit, you know, unless you want to turn into a raisin.." César whispered against his hair.

"Of course... But I'll enjoy this as much as it lasts..." Oliver tucked his face into César's neck.

They still had champagne to drink, but that could wait. This moment couldn't.

[thatwriterchick222]

coffee (joel miller/f!reader)

summary: “What are you drinking?” Ellie asked quietly, leaning on the railing of the deck. Joel had a steaming cup of something in his hands.

“Coffee.” He walked up beside her, leaning on the railing and mirroring her.

Ellie looked at him, confused. “Where’d you get that?”

“Uh, those people that came through last week.” Joel chuckled.

“Oh.”

Joel rocked back and forth on his heels. “A little embarrassed as to what I had to trade to get it, but…” He raised the mug, about to take a sip.“It’s not bad.”

a/n: today we finally learn the truth... what DID joel have to trade to get his beloved bag of beans??? read ahead to find out ;)))

-------------

You and your group were passing through the small settlement in Jackson, Wyoming. Your leader had mentioned it a few times, since he was familiar with Tommy Miller, the man who founded the small town with his wife, Maria.

The group had lots of supplies, and so did yours, so your group figured you could pass through and stay for a few days since they had allowed it before. Everyone would do some trading, and you would get to sleep in a warm bed for once…

When you all arrived, you were in awe of the state of the place. Lights that hung from old telephone poles illuminated the snow-covered streets in a warm yellow glow, and kids ran around playing tag, weaving between the various civilians huddled by the fire pits.

Your shoulders ached, the backpack you were carrying was filled with nothing but food, seeds, and a large bag of coffee beans. 

One thing about your group was that you were always stocked in food and natural resources since you mostly lived off the land, and the Jackson group was stocked in weapons and supplies, something you had very little of.

When you were invited to one of their weekly dance-potluck-party events, you were frankly nervous as hell. You hadn’t been to something like this since before the outbreak, and large groups had become a rarity unless you were all fighting for your lives.

You had been given a room in a large house and took a long shower, the feeling of the hot water making you tear up. You missed it.

You arrived slightly late since you were pulled aside by a few people wanting to trade with you, weapon parts for seeds, and the like. One person had asked for your bag of coffee beans, but you were hesitant to give them over just for a few bullets.

When you got in, you immediately went straight to the bar. The lively crowd inside was already whittling a hole in your chest, and anxiety bubbled in your stomach as you walked around the dance floor. People laughed, clinked glasses, hugged… it was just like the old world. 

Only it wasn’t the old world, and the way that these people smiled and partied like there weren’t infected all around them outside these walls had you on edge. How did they do it? Is that what living in a place like this did? Did it make you ignorant?

You took a long sip of the beer you ordered and got the sudden urge to get out. It was all too much. The loud music, the bright lights… 

As you turned, you crashed into someone.

“Shit! Sorry!” You exclaimed, pulling back and immediately looking up at the tall figure. He was leaning on the bar and seemed to barely even notice you crashing into him because he was so large.

“It’s okay.” He said, smiling at you, his gaze soft. You swallowed, looking at the man, his hair grey, a stubbly beard on his face. He looked to be in his mid-fifties. Not that you were complaining. 

You leaned on the bar beside him. He had a whiskey in his hand. 

“I don’t recognize you…” He trailed off, looking at you out of the corner of his eye. 

“My group and I are passing through.” You smiled nervously, taking a sip of beer. “Tommy likes to trade with us.”

The man put his whiskey down and stuck his hand out to me. You noticed the way his shirt sleeves were rolled up, exposing a long vein in his forearm. He was also wearing a watch, but the glass face was cracked and it seemed to be stuck in time. 

“I’m Joel.” He said, and you grabbed his hand, shaking it slowly. “Tommy’s my brother.”

“Oh!” You laughed softly. “I’m Y/N.”

You held onto each other’s hands for a beat longer than normal, his palm warm against yours. You pulled away, a blush spreading across your cheeks as you looked down. 

One thing about living in a world like this… was that human affection was hard to come by. Attractive men, even more so.

You swallowed, and Joel cleared his throat, taking a sip of his whiskey. “Sorry… I– I don’t often find myself talkin’ to beautiful women. I don’t quite know what to say.”

You felt your stomach swirl and looked up at him through the corner of your eye. “Who, me?” 

To be quite honest, you were surprised he found you beautiful. Not because you hated yourself, but because you hadn’t thought about your looks in so long. You learned to forget about those things since they didn’t matter. A pretty face didn’t keep you alive. 

“Yeah.” He chuckled. “I’m glad you bumped into me.”

You laughed, turning to him. Something about him felt extremely warm. Despite his nervousness and guarded exterior, you were drawn to him. It wasn’t every day you got a compliment from an older man. Was he probably way too old for you? Yes. Did you care? No. Life was short, and you were only here for a few days...

continue on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/53698717