#do i even tag this like do i Care enough to do that. read DOA if you haven't already btw I hate it but like I love it

[locketsvault]

「 CUDDLING WITH BSD MEN PT 3/4 」

pairings: fyodor x reader ፥ nikolai x reader ፥ sigma x reader ፥ poe x reader

tags: gender neutral reader, no agab mentioned, first person, fluff, cuddling/phyiscal affection

warnings: curse words, I’m sorry I had to curse the doa is cracked

other parts: ada ᨒ port mafia ᨒ doa + the guild ᨒ the hunting dogs

a/n: this is the most cracked part yet

// fyodor dostoevsky ⌇˚.༄

⮑ … you are crazy for cuddling him, truly.

⮑ Our dear master manipulator, how you trust him enough to let him that close I do not know how. What confuses me even more, how did you get him to trust you? Anyways— somehow you managed it, and it’s now time for some cuddle headcanons with Fyodor.

⮑ His lap is your throne. He spends pretty much all of his time in front of his monitors, so it’s not uncommon for one of the other doa members to walk in and find you curled up on it. As long as you don’t distract him, he will allow you to stay and do as you please. Sometimes he’ll wrap an arm around your waist.

⮑ He actually doesn’t mind pda, he doesn’t see you as a weakness to himself and trusts that you’ll be taken care of and safe, if not by him then by the others. I think having an arm or hand on your waist is common with him when you two are out. He will make it clear to anyone who stares at you too long that you’re his.

⮑ He’s big spoon always, he will never give up control even with something as small as cuddling. Honestly you’re lucky he will cuddle you at all. He’s not fond of touching much. Seriously the fact you touch him without knowing his ability, you’re absolutely insane. His cuddles I feel like are cold. Oh, and if you annoy him he will kick you off his lap.

⮑ 4/10, when he allows you in his lap and you behave you find that it’s actually quite nice. Good luck though.

// nikolai gogol ⌇˚.༄

⮑ I find you crazy for cuddling him as well but for a completely different reason.

⮑ With Fyodor you’re insane because he’s dangerous as hell, and yes Nikolai is too, but I find you crazy for cuddling him because he’s an unpredictable crazy clown. He is the definition of “never let them know your next move”. It’s never safe cuddling him. You never know when he will pull a prank—.

⮑ He will pull shit out of his cloak during cuddle sessions or pull you through. He will come up behind you, hug you, and suddenly you’re teleported to a pool full of rubber ducks. And that’s on the bright side.

⮑ All jokes aside, it scares me to say he’s actually good at cuddling. He’s very attentive, he knows how to read you. Like Dazai, his cuddles feel too secure at time. He knows when to be serious with cuddles, and when he can be unhinged. He’s pretty good at behaving according to what you can handle.

⮑ He’s very comfortable to cuddle, and he loves when you rest your head over his heart. He’s another big spoon for sure, another one who doesn’t like being out of control. Except for him it’s more that it just doesn’t feel comfortable or right. He also loves pda, and he loves messing with you in public. He could care less if people are staring.

⮑ 6/10, you better hope he’s more in an attentive mood than wanting to torment you.

// sigma ⌇˚.༄

⮑ He demands cuddles every second of every day. Give them to, him or else.

⮑ Our precious three year old. I promise you he has never been cuddled a day in his life. Like pretty much every aspect of your relationship, cuddles are a new thing that he has to learn. Once he learns though he adores it. It’s his main form of comfort. More often enough he comes home from work and collapses in your arms.

⮑ Due to how stressed out this poor boy is and how he pretty much never catches a break, he’s almost always the little spoon. It’s either a nervous breakdown or you hold him. How can you complain though he’s so precious. Plus he has pretty and soft hair to play with.

⮑ When he is the big spoon he always holds you in his arms protectively, terrified that if he lets go he will lose you. He often will place a hand over your head as he holds you. If you fall asleep in his arms he will sit there wondering how he got so lucky with you. He loves spooning you because again, you’re safe in his arms.

⮑ He loves when you visit him and sit in his lap, it makes working so much easier for him. He’s very shy with pda but if you love it he will do his best. He gets so flustered when people walk into his office and you’re in his arms, it’s actually so precious.

⮑ I could go on and on about him and his adventures of cuddling tbh.

⮑ 10/10, he’s so sweet and cute and does his absolute best for you.

// edgar allan poe ⌇˚.༄

⮑ Oh my gosh he’s so easy to fluster I can’t. And Karl?

⮑ No literally it takes nothing to make him flustered he’s so shy. 90% of the time you have to take charge when it comes to initiating physical contact. He second guesses himself and worries he might be too much. So he allows you to initiate it. Yet he panics every time. Crawl into his lap? Tomato.

⮑ Karl constantly crashes your cuddle sessions, which is probably a good thing or things might turn… nsfw. It’s actually quite cute though, Poe will be writing a book, you’ll sit in his lap, and Karl will sit in yours. Honestly you get just as much cuddles from the raccoon as you do your bf, something he gets jealous about lol.

⮑ Believe it or not he’s actually mostly big spoon. Similarly to Sigma, it comforts and reassures him to be big spoon. Though he genuinely doesn’t mind being little spoon, especially if you love being big spoon.

⮑ Your most common cuddle position, besides sitting in his lap when he writes, is either you holding him while he writes, or facing each other in bed holding each other. It’s easy to talk to each other softly and give gentle kisses.

⮑ 9/10, sometimes having to constantly initiate it can get a bit frustrating.

main hub ✦ masterlist ✦ to do list

[superangsty]

for DOA - how ross found out abt chandler and joey? <3

aaa thank you anon! This took me AGES to write despite being quite short but it was very fun :)))

send me ficlet prompts for DOA so that I can put off writing the next chapter!

“We should cancel dinner plans more often,” Chandler says, taking a final drag of his cigarette before flicking it into the mug on Joey’s bedside table.

Joey sighs, half out of contentment and half in an attempt to expel some of the second hand smoke from his lungs, and he rolls closer to Chandler, slinging an arm over his waist. “You think Monica’s gonna be mad?”

Chandler smirks. “Oh, totally,” he says, “but don’t worry about it, she likes you. It’s me that’s the problem, she thinks I’m a corrupting influence.”

“Shouldn’t that be the other way round?” Joey asks, because really, he’s only met her twice. One and a half times, really. Surely she should be more critical of the new boyfriend than of the guy she’s been friends with for years?

“Hah, no, she thinks I’m a tool. But you, she thinks you’re this, like, beautiful Italian cherub who actually seems pretty normal for a catholic that grew up with Janice.”

Joey props himself up on an elbow to look bemusedly at Chandler. “Weird phrasing, but sure, I get the picture.”

“Oh no, that’s a direct quote,” replies Chandler, eyebrows raised. Joey pokes him in the shoulder.

“Still, I feel kinda bad. Maybe we should go out with her tomorrow?”

He watches for a second as Chandler counts the days on his hands, then lolls his head back with a groan.

“Ugh, I can’t,” he says, “I’ve got a thing with Ross.”

Joey’s not met Ross yet. He’s the only one of Chandler’s friends that he hasn’t, actually. Obviously, he’d already known Janice, and Monica and Phoebe living across the hall from him meant he was bound to run into them eventually. Awkward, though, that the first time he’d met two of his new boyfriend’s best friends was when he’d had said boyfriend pushed up against his front door to make out.

He’s not sure Chandler would ever have introduced them if that hadn’t happened. He’s awkward about stuff like that, talking about his love life. Maybe that’s why he’s reluctant to let him meet Ross.

Though, to be fair to Chandler, because Chandler’s great, maybe it’s Ross that’s the problem. When they’d first started dating last month, Janice had given him a run-down on Chandler’s little gang (Monica: control freak, Phoebe: hippie, Carol: annoyingly nice), and when she’d got to Ross all she’d said was “Ross sucks, don’t bother with him,” and also “but oof, I still would, y’know? Like, no questions asked.”

Still, he really likes Chandler. Like, he really likes him. And Ross is Chandler’s best friend, so Janice’s opinions aside he still feels like he should try get to know him.

“Got room for one more?”

“Joey…” Chandler sighs, wiping a hand over his face. “It’s Star Trek. The thing I’ve got with Ross is sitting on my couch eating takeout and watching Star Trek.”

What a fucking nerd. Joey desperately wants to kiss him. “Hey, no, Star Trek’s cool,” he says. It’s not. He leans up to press his lips to Chandler’s. “I like the doctor, uh, Crusher? Talk about milfs, right?”

Chandler groans. “Dear god, I hope you never meet my mother.”

“So, Star Trek?”

“Fine. Star Trek. My place at 7, and you’re buying the pizza.”

*

In the month they’ve been dating, Joey’s showed up early for every single thing they’ve planned, so Chandler’s pretty certain he’ll show up a while before the new episode starts. He just hopes he’s not so early that Chandler doesn’t get a chance to talk to Ross first.

Or, maybe he does want him to be that early, because Ross is sitting across from Chandler and he just really, really doesn’t want to be having this conversation.

So, Ross, he should say, I’ve been dating this guy, and I want you to meet him. And, just in case Ross tries to protest, he should add: he’s paying for the pizzas and he’ll be over in a few minutes, so play nice.

Or: So, Ross. Remember Janice, my good friend and your ex-girlfriend from freshman year? Well I’m screwing her cousin, he’ll be over in a few minutes.

So, Ross. I’m pretty sure I’m falling in love, isn’t that the most fucked up thing you’ve ever heard? Anyway he thinks Dr Crusher is a milf and he’ll be over in a few minutes.

Yeah, right.

“So, Ross,” he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. “I probably should’ve checked with you first, but I invited a friend to come watch with us tonight?”

“Huh?” Ross looks up from his textbook. “Oh, sure man, whatever. What’s his name?”

“Joey. His name is Joey. My friend.” Chandler rocks on his feet, staring at the wall past Ross. “He’s my. My good friend.”

“Oh, like – like a friend friend?” Ross asks. Chandler really fucking hopes the blush he feels rising isn’t visible. “You want some, uh, privacy? I can go?”

“Nah, man,” Chandler replies, cringing at the way he automatically switches into ‘bro mode’, how his voice gets just that fraction deeper. “It’s cool, I mean. I just wanna hang out with my best friend and my – and – him. He’s bringing pizzas.”

Ross shrugs and goes back to scribbling in the margins of his textbook – PhD students, honestly – and a few minutes later the buzzer sounds and Joey comes up wearing jeans and a sweatshirt, two pizzas and a six pack of beers in his hands.

His whole face lights up in a smile when he sees Chandler, and his hair is ungelled and hanging over his eyes and christ, Chandler wants to kiss him, but instead he waves Ross over to introduce him.

“Nice to meet you,” Ross greets, polite but uninterested.

“You too,” Joey says, polite but sincere, same as always.

Ross glances down at Joey’s sweatshirt, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “You like the Knicks?”

Joey grins. “Hell yeah, dude!” he says, and raises a hand to offer Ross a hi-five.

Ross hi-fives him, and his shoulders seem to lose some of their tension. He nods over at the TV, sitting on its sad little stand. “Here, sit wherever you like, it’s nearly time for it to start.”

[kookie-doughs]

Y/N L/N AND THE HALFBLOODS

Percy Jackson X Reader

-Y/N L/N met Percy Jackson and everything was now ruined.

CHAPTER 18: High-Key Want A Three-Headed Dog

We stood in the shadows of Valencia Boulevard, looking up at gold letters etched in black marble: DOA RECORDING STUDIOS.

Underneath, stenciled on the glass doors: NO SOLICITORS. NO LOITERING. NO LIVING.

It was almost midnight, but the lobby was brightly lit and full of people. Behind the security desk sat a tough-looking guard with sunglasses and an earpiece.

I turned to my friends. "Okay. You remember the plan."

"The plan," Grover gulped. "Yeah. I love the plan."

Annabeth said, "What happens if the plan doesn't work?"

"Don't think negative." Percy said.

"Right," she said. "We're entering the Land of the Dead, and I shouldn't think negative."

Percy took the pearls out of his pocket, the three milky spheres the Nereid had given us in Santa Monica. They didn't seem like much of a backup in case something went wrong. I had mine mixed up in there in case mine was rigged, Percy insisted upon it.

Annabeth put her hand on Percy's shoulder. "I'm sorry, Percy. You're right, we'll make it. It'll be fine."

She gave Grover a nudge.

"Oh, right!" he chimed in. "We got this far. We'll find the master bolt and save your mom. No problem."

"Don't worry Percy. We'll do this."

He looked at us, and smiled.

He slipped the pearls back in his pocket. "Let's whup some Underworld butt."

We walked inside the DOA lobby.

Muzak played softly on hidden speakers. The carpet and walls were steel gray. Pencil cactuses grew in the corners like skeleton hands. The furniture was black leather, and every seat was taken. There were people sitting on couches, people standing up, people staring out the windows or waiting for the elevator. Nobody moved, or talked, or did much of anything. Out of the corner of my eye, I could see them all just fine, but if I focused on any one of them in particular, they started looking... transparent. I could see right through their bodies.

The security guard's desk was a raised podium, so we had to look up at him.

He was tall and elegant, with chocolate-colored skin and bleached-blond hair shaved military style. He wore tortoiseshell shades and a silk Italian suit that matched his hair. A black rose was pinned to his lapel under a silver name tag.

Percy read the name tag, then looked at him in bewilderment. "Your name is Chiron?"

He leaned across the desk. I couldn't see anything in his glasses except my own reflection, but his smile was sweet and cold, like a pythons, right before it eats you.

"What a precious young lad." He had a strange accent—British, maybe, but also as if he had learned English as a second language. "Tell me, mate, do I look like a centaur?"

"N-no."

"Sir," he added smoothly.

"Sir," Percy said.

He pinched the name tag and ran his finger under the letters. "Can you read this, mate? It says C-H-A-R-O-N. Say it with me: CARE-ON."

"Charon."

"Amazing! Now: Mr. Charon."

"Mr. Charon," I said.

"Well done." He sat back. "I hate being confused with that old horse-man. And now, how may I help you little dead ones?"

Percy looked at me for support.

"We want to go the Underworld," I said.

Charon's mouth twitched. "Well, that's refreshing."

"It is?" I asked.

"Straightforward and honest. No screaming. No 'There must be a mistake, Mr. Charon.'" He looked us over. "How did you die, then?"

I nudged Grover.

"Oh," he said. "Um... drowned... in the bathtub."

"All four of you?" Charon asked. We nodded. I could see Annabeth wanted to face palm.

"Big bathtub." Charon looked mildly impressed. "I don't suppose you have coins for passage. Normally, with adults, you see, I could charge your American Express, or add the ferry price to your last cable bill. But with children... alas, you never die prepared. Suppose you'll have to take a seat for a few centuries."

"Oh, but we have coins." Annabeth set three golden drachmas on the counter, part of the stash we'd found in Crusty's office desk.

"Well, now..." Charon moistened his lips. "Real drachmas. Real golden drachmas. I haven't seen these in..."

His fingers hovered greedily over the coins.

We were so close.

Then Charon looked at Percy. That cold stare behind his glasses seemed to bore a hole through his chest. "Here now," he said. "You couldn't read my name correctly. Are you dyslexic, lad?"

"No," Percy said. "I'm dead."

Charon leaned forward and took a sniff. "You're not dead. I should've known. You're a godling."

"We have to get to the Underworld," Annabeth insisted.

Charon made a growling sound deep in his throat.

Immediately, all the people in the waiting room got up and started pacing, agitated, lighting cigarettes, running hands through their hair, or checking their wristwatches.

"Leave while you can," Charon told us. "I'll just take these and forget I saw you."

He started to go for the coins, but I snatched them back.

"No service, no tip." I said staring at him.

Charon growled again—a deep, blood-chilling sound. The spirits of the dead started pounding on the elevator doors.

"It's a shame, too," I sighed. "We had more to offer."

I held up the entire bag from Crusty's stash. I took out a fistful of drachmas and let the coins spill through my fingers.

Charon's growl changed into something more like a lion's purr. "Do you think I can be bought, godling? Eh... just out of curiosity, how much have you got there?"

"A lot," I said. "I bet Hades doesn't pay you well enough for such hard work."

"Oh, you don't know the half of it. How would you like to babysit these spirits all day? Always 'Please don't let me be dead' or 'Please let me across for free.' I haven't had a pay raise in three thousand years. Do you imagine suits like this come cheap?"

"You deserve better," I agreed. "A little appreciation. Respect. Good pay."

With each word, I stacked another gold coin on the counter.

Charon glanced down at his silk Italian jacket, as if imagining himself in something even better. "I must say, lad, you're making some sense now. Just a little."

I stacked another few coins. "I could mention a pay raise while I'm talking to Hades."

He sighed. "The boat's almost full, anyway. I might as well add you three and be off."

He stood, scooped up our money, and said, "Come along."

We pushed through the crowd of waiting spirits, who started grabbing at our clothes like the wind, their voices whispering things I couldn't make out. Charon shoved them out of the way, grumbling, "Freeloaders."

He escorted us into the elevator, which was already crowded with souls of the dead, each one holding a green boarding pass. Charon grabbed two spirits who were trying to get on with us and pushed them back into the lobby.

"Right. Now, no one get any ideas while I'm gone," he announced to the waiting room. "And if anyone moves the dial off my easy-listening station again, I'll make sure you're here for another thousand years. Understand?"

He shut the doors. He put a key card into a slot in the elevator panel and we started to descend.

"What happens to the spirits waiting in the lobby?" Annabeth asked.

"Nothing," Charon said.

"For how long?"

"Forever, or until I'm feeling generous."

"Oh," she said. "That's... fair."

Charon raised an eyebrow. "Whoever said death was fair, young miss? Wait until it's your turn. You'll die soon enough, where you're going."

"We'll get out alive," Percy said.

"Ha."

I could feel we weren't going down anymore, but forward. The air turned misty. Spirits around me started changing shape. Their modern clothes flickered, turning into gray hooded robes. The floor of the elevator began swaying.

Charon's creamy Italian suit had been replaced by a long black robe. His tortoiseshell glasses were gone. Where his eyes should've been were empty sockets—like Ares's eyes, except Charon's were totally dark, full of night and death and despair.

He saw me looking, and said, "Well?"

"Nothing," I said. "I never knew you could look cool dead."

I thought he was grinning, but that wasn't it. The flesh of his face was becoming transparent, letting me see straight through to his skull.

The floor kept swaying.

Grover said, "I think I'm getting seasick."

When I blinked again, the elevator wasn't an elevator anymore. We were standing in a wooden barge. Charon was poling us across a dark, oily river, swirling with bones, dead fish, and other, stranger things—plastic dolls, crushed carnations, soggy diplomas with gilt edges.

"The River Styx," Annabeth murmured. "It's so..."

"Polluted," Charon said. "For thousands of years, you humans have been throwing in everything as you come across—hopes, dreams, wishes that never came true. Irresponsible waste management, if you ask me."

Mist curled off the filthy water. Above us, almost lost in the gloom, was a ceiling of stalactites. Ahead, the far shore glimmered with greenish light, the color of poison.

Panic closed up my throat. What was I doing here? These people around me... they were dead.

Percy grabbed hold of my hand. Annabeth took my other free one. I knew she wanted reassurance that somebody else was alive on this boat.

I could hear Percy muttering a prayer, though I wasn't quite sure who I was praying to. Down here, only one god mattered, and he was the one we had come to confront.

The shoreline of the Underworld came into view. Craggy rocks and black volcanic sand stretched inland about a hundred yards to the base of a high stone wall, which marched off in either direction as far as we could see. A sound came from somewhere nearby in the green gloom, echoing off the stones—the howl of a large animal.

"Old Three-Face is hungry," Charon said. His smile turned skeletal in the greenish light. "Bad luck for you, godlings."

The bottom of our boat slid onto the black sand. The dead began to disembark. A woman holding a little girl's hand. An old man and an old woman hobbling along arm in arm. A boy no older than I was, shuffling silently along in his gray robe.

Charon said, "I'd wish you luck, mate, but there isn't any down here. Mind you, don't forget to mention my pay raise."

He counted our golden coins into his pouch, then took up his pole. He warbled something that sounded like a Barry Manilow song as he ferried the empty barge back across the river.

We followed the spirits up a well-worn path.

I'm not sure what I was expecting—Pearly Gates, or a big black portcullis, or something. But the entrance to the Underworld looked like a cross between airport security and the Jersey Turnpike.

There were three separate entrances under one huge black archway that said YOU ARE NOW ENTERING EREBUS. Each entrance had a pass-through metal detector with security cameras mounted on top. Beyond this were tollbooths manned by black-robed ghouls like Charon.

The howling of the hungry animal was really loud now, but I couldn't see where it was coming from. The three-headed dog, Cerberus, who was supposed to guard Hades's door, was nowhere to be seen.

The dead queued up in the three lines, two marked ATTENDANT ON DUTY, and one marked EZ DEATH. The EZ DEATH line was moving right along. The other two were crawling.

"What do you figure?" Percy asked Annabeth.

"The fast line must go straight to the Asphodel Fields," she said. "No contest. They don't want to risk judgment from the court, because it might go against them."

"There's a court for dead people?"

"Yeah. Three judges. They switch around who sits on the bench. King Minos, Thomas Jefferson, Shakespeare—people like that. Sometimes they look at a life and decide that person needs a special reward—the Fields of Elysium. Sometimes they decide on punishment. But most people, well, they just lived. Nothing special, good or bad. So they go to the Asphodel Fields."

"And do what?"

Grover said, "Imagine standing in a wheat field in Kansas. Forever."

"Harsh," Percy said.

"Not as harsh as that," Grover muttered. "Look."

A couple of black-robbed ghouls had pulled aside one spirit and were frisking him at the security desk. The face of the dead man looked vaguely familiar.

"He's that preacher who made the news, remember?" Grover asked.

"Oh, yeah." Percy said. "We'd seen him on TV a couple of times at the Yancy Academy dorm. He was this annoying televangelist from upstate New York who'd raised millions of dollars for orphanages and then got caught spending the money on stuff for his mansion, like gold-plated toilet seats, and an indoor putt-putt golf course. He'd died in a police chase when his "Lamborghini for the Lord" went off a cliff."

"Humans." I said rolling my eyes, "What're they doing to him?"

"Special punishment from Hades," Grover guessed. "The really bad people get his personal attention as soon as they arrive. The Fur—the Kindly Ones will set up an eternal torture for him."

The thought of the Furies made me shudder. I realized I was in their home territory now. Old Mrs. Dodds and Mrs . Rudolph would be licking her lips with anticipation.

"But if he's a preacher," Percy said, "and he believes in a different hell... ."

Grover shrugged. "Who says he's seeing this place the way we're seeing it? Humans see what they want to see. You're very stubborn—er, persistent, that way."

We got closer to the gates. The howling was so loud now it shook the ground at my feet, about fifty feet in front of us, standing just where the path split into three lanes was an enormous shadowy monster.

My jaw hung open. All I could think to say was, "He's a Rottweiler."

I'd always imagined Cerberus as a big black mastiff. But he was obviously a purebred Rottweiler, except of course that he was twice the size of a woolly mammoth, and had three heads.

"I thought he would've been a mastiff."

"Same..."

The dead walked right up to him—no fear at all. The ATTENDANT ON DUTY lines parted on either side of him. The EZ DEATH spirits walked right between his front paws and under his belly, which they could do without even crouching.

"I'm starting to see him better," Percy muttered. "Why is that?"

"I think ..." Annabeth moistened her lips. "I'm afraid it's because we're getting closer to being dead."

The dog's middle head craned toward us. It sniffed the air and growled.

"It can smell the living," I said.

"But that's okay," Grover said, trembling next to Percy. "Because we have a plan."

"Right," Annabeth said. I'd never heard her voice sound quite so small. "A plan."

We moved toward the monster.

The middle head snarled at us, then barked so loud my eyeballs rattled.

"Can you understand it?" I asked Grover.

"Oh yeah," he said. "I can understand it."

"What's it saying?"

"I don't think humans have a four-letter word that translates, exactly."

Percy took the big stick out of his backpack—a bedpost we'd broken off Crusty's Safari Deluxe floor model. He held it up, and tried to channel happy dog thoughts toward Cerberus—Alpo commercials, cute little puppies, fire hydrants.

"Hey, Big Fella," He called up. "I bet they don't play with you much."

"GROWWWLLLL!"

"Good boy," he said weakly.

Percy waved the stick. The dog's middle head followed the movement. The other two heads trained their eyes on Percy, completely ignoring the spirits. Percy had Cerberus's undivided attention. I wasn't sure that was a good thing.

"Fetch!" I threw the stick into the gloom, a good solid throw. I heard it go ker-sploosh in the River Styx.

Cerberus glared at me, unimpressed. His eyes were baleful and cold.

So much for the plan.

Cerberus was now making a new kind of growl, deeper down in his three throats.

"Um," Grover said. "Percy?"

"Yeah?"

"I just thought you'd want to know."

"Yeah?"

"Cerberus? He's saying we've got ten seconds to pray to the god of our choice. After that... well... he's hungry."

"Wait!" Annabeth said. She started rifling through her pack.

"Five seconds," Grover said. "Do we run now?"

Annabeth produced a red rubber ball the size of a grapefruit. It was labeled WATERLAND, DENVER, CO. Before I could stop her, she raised the ball and marched straight up to Cerberus.

She shouted, "See the ball? You want the ball, Cerberus? Sit!"

Cerberus looked as stunned as we were.

All three of his heads cocked sideways. Six nostrils dilated.

"Sit!" Annabeth called again.

I don't know why but petting this gigantic three headed dog would have made my bucket list complete. I walked up to Annabeth with Percy and Grover panicking behind.

"I want to pet him. Cerberus sit!"

"Sit!" Annabeth yelled.

Cerberus licked his three sets of lips, shifted on his haunches, and sat, immediately crushing a dozen spirits who'd been passing underneath him in the EZ DEATH line. The spirits made muffled hisses as they dissipated, like the air let out of tires.

I said, "Good boy!"

Annabeth threw Cerberus the ball.

He caught it in his middle mouth. It was barely big enough for him to chew, and the other heads started snapping at the middle, trying to get the new toy.

"Drop it.'" I ordered.

Cerberus's heads stopped fighting and looked at me. The ball was wedged between two of his teeth like a tiny piece of gum. He made a loud, scary whimper, then dropped the ball, now slimy and bitten nearly in half, at Annabeth's feet.

"Good boy." She picked up the ball, ignoring the monster spit all over it.

She turned toward the two. "Go now. EZ DEATH line—it's faster."

Percy said, "But—"

"Now.'" She ordered, in the same tone she was using on the dog.

"You should go too. I wouldn't mind."

"How are you sure he'll follow you?" Annabeth laughed.

"I had a dog you know. Real sweetheart. Pretty sure he'll be as cute."

Grover and Percy inched forward warily.

Cerberus started to growl.

"Stay!" Annabeth ordered the monster. "If you want the ball, stay!"

Cerberus whimpered, but he stayed where he was.

"What about you guys?" Percy asked us as we passed her.

Annabeth looked at me and nodded. "Y/N wants to pet him," she muttered. "I think she can handle him."

Grover, Annabeth and Percy walked between the Cerberus's legs.

I was tempted to make Cerberus sit to be honest.

When made it through. I said, "Good dog!"

I held up the tattered red ball. The ball was tattered and this is going to be the last trick.

"Cerberus, could you get closer to me?" I called hesitantly. All three heads leaned down.

Oh gods... Oh gods... I'm going to pet him... I reluctantly touched his head. His head leaned to my touch. "Good boy." I cooed petting each his head. He whimpered on my touch.  "Okay boy." I leaned my head against his middle one.

I threw the ball. The good boy's left mouth immediately snatched it up, only to be attacked by the middle head, while the right head moaned in protest.

While the monster was distracted, I walked under its belly and joined us at the metal detector.

"Bucket list solved." Annabeth and I fist bumped.

"How did you do that?" Percy looked at Annabeth and I, amazed.

"Obedience school," Annabeth said breathlessly, "When I was little, at my dad's house, we had a Doberman... ."

"I had D/N you knew that." I was surprised to see there were tears in her eyes. "I promise I'll play again!"

"Never mind that," Grover said, tugging at Percy's shirt. "Come on!"

We were about to bolt through the EZ DEATH line when Cerberus moaned pitifully from all three mouths. Annabeth and I stopped.

We turned to face the cutie which had done a one-eighty to look at us.

Cerberus panted expectantly, the tiny red ball in pieces in a puddle of drool at its feet.

"Good boy," Annabeth said, but her voice sounded melancholy and uncertain.

The monster's heads turned sideways, as if worried.

"I'll bring you another ball soon," Annabeth promised faintly. "Would you like that?"

The monster whimpered. I didn't need to speak dog to know Cerberus was still waiting for the ball.

"Good dog. I'll come visit you soon. I promise we'll come back." I turned to the others. "Let's go."

Grover and Percy pushed through the metal detector, which immediately screamed and set off flashing red lights. "Unauthorized possessions! Magic detected!"

Cerberus started to bark.

We burst through the EZ DEATH gate, which started even more alarms blaring, and raced into the Underworld.

A few minutes later, we were hiding, out of breath, in the rotten trunk of an immense black tree as security ghouls scuttled past, yelling for backup from the Furies.

Grover murmured, "Well, Percy, what have we learned today?"

"That three-headed dogs prefer red rubber balls over sticks?"

"No," Grover told me. "We've learned that your plans really, really bite!"

I wasn't sure about that. I thought maybe Annabeth and I had both had the right idea. Even here in the Underworld, everybody—even monsters—needed a little attention once in a while.

I thought about that as we waited for the ghouls to pass. I pulled Annabeth closer as she wipe a tear from her cheek as we listened to the mournful keening of Cerberus in the distance,.

"We'll come back..."

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What if… [TRR X PM Cross over] (Riley x Drake) (Kai x Hana) [PART 12/?]

Hi guys!! This is part of a nameless Riley x Drake series. You can read the previous parts HERE.

Tags: @lazychic28   @boneandfur @drakelover78 @captainkingliam

@andy-loves-corgis @client327 @walkerismychoice  @chantelle-x0x

Summary: What if things were different? (Part 12) ANGSTY ANGST

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Kodaline - The One

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-Drake, my man!

-Hi Neville - Drake mumbled annoyed as the man seated next to him, interrupting his favourite activity of the day: glancing at Riley in class, making sure she didn’t notice.

It had been over two weeks since he’d last seen or texted her. God she was stubborn!

“It takes one to notice one” he heard a voice that awfully resembled hers in his head.

It had been over two weeks. The worst two weeks he had ever lived.

“Yet” The voice snickered

He had been in pain, he had been loosing sleep at that stupid fight, and the dark circles around his eyes gave him away. He had even lost his appetite, and focussing on class was almost impossible, especially if Riley was around. Why did he have to act like that? Why couldn’t he just tell her how he felt, how he had been feeling since the day he saw her at the library, all flustered and cute.

He glanced at Riley once more. She looked so lovely! All sleepy but concentrated on what the professor was explaining. Drake felt something burning in the pit of his stomach, a mix of anger and sorrow.

Was it worth all this pain? Would he feel better if he stood up and talked to her? 

“What’s the case?” the voice sniggered “I’m leaving in a couple of weeks anyway!”

Drake forced himself to look away, and only then he realised Neville was still talking to him.

-So?

-What?

-Is there anything between you and her?

-Who?

-Riley! Are you even listening to me? - he whispered looking away.

Drake followed Neville’s leer. The corner of her eye caught his stare, but she looked away, redirecting her attention to the front of the class.

-No - he grunted as he felt a lump on his throat - There isn’t.

Neville patted his back and the lump felt even stronger.

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The pale freckled face returned the empty looking frown, after critically scanning the curvy body covered in light winter clothes.

Make up tried, unsuccessfully, to cover up her red eyes, puffy from all the crying.

-Where are you going Ri? - Kai asked smirking - Have you and Agent Marshmallow made amends?

-No, actually... Neville asked me out...

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Ain’t no sunshine - Bill Withers

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Drake was lying down on the living couch. He had been in the same position since he’d arrived from class.

-Ok, that’s it. Move - Savannah pushed his legs out of the couch and sat down.

-Fuck off.

-What’s going on?

-FUCK.OFF.

-Whatever Drake, you think I haven’t noticed? Two weeks ago you were perfectly fine, laughing like you haven’t laughed in a long time. You’ve even danced while cooking! You were singing more often than not, you were happier that I’ve seen you in a long, long time. Happier that in Cordonia. You think I haven’t noticed that after that baseball game you came your old self again. No, not your old self, your self when that bitch broke your heart back in Cordonia. Don’t you see? You’re my brother. I know you were seeing someone. Is she this Riley girl you’ve been talked non-stop about? Penelope says she’s nice.

Drake stared at her sister’s eyes without saying a word.

-Talk to me Drakey, use your words. I’m worried. What happened?

Drake let out a strangled sigh as he felt tears building up in his eyes.

-She’s leaving, and instead of talking to her, I just stood up and left.

-When did this conversation happen?

-Two weeks ago...

-Haven’t you spoken to her eversince?

Drake shook his head, tears finally streaming down his face.

-Why don’t you talk to her now?

-She’s with Neville now. He told me he’d ask her out.

-Why didn’t you say something?

-You know why! I can’t say no to Neville! Not when we’re both here because of his father. I can’t forget it, nor Neville let me...

-Screw Neville! His father did us no favour! 

-What do you mean?

-It doesn’t matter what I mean. Are you really going to let her go without her knowing what you feel? If she says no, that’s a whole different story, but she hasn’t heard your version yet. You can’t expect her to guess how you feel! 

Drake hugged his sister unable to contain heartly felt sobs. He took his phone and typed a message. He deleted it and typed again. After several minutes he sent it.

-Now you just have to wait.

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Riley wasn’t up for that date anymore. Coffee was good enough, but Neville, who seemed to be a nice educated guy, turned out to be a selfcentered, narcissistic man. Everything they talked about revolved about him, even when he took off his jacket and forcefully put it on Riley’s shoulders aledging she was cold, it made it about imself, how good he was to women, how caring he was towards them, funny thing though, he didn’t listen to Riley at no time. Not even when she tried to explain her family story, after he claimed inmigration should be banned since nothing good could come out of it, using disgusting vocabulary towards the inmigrant population in Cordonia. 

At one point, Riley stood up, ready to go, but felt astrong grip on her forearm. When she turned around to see what was happening, Neville pressed his mouth against hers. At first her whole body froze, she just stood up there eyes wide open, stiffened body, only hearing her blood pounding violently. But as soon as he tried to force his tongue into her mouth, she pushed him away, turned and ran, leaving him standing alone, shouting things she couldn’t listen.

When she had reached three blocks, she took out her mobile. She meant to text Kai, but saw Drake’s text instead. 

“Need to talk to you asap, please come by”

Riley weighed her options, and decided she’d give Drake the chance to explain himself, so she headed to his apartment.

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-Hi Hopkins - Drake mumbled opnening the apartment door

-Hi Drake.

-Would you like to come in?

-No, I’m good, thanks. - akward silence - Why did you ask me here Drake?

-Hopkins, I... - he reached for her hand, but she didn’t hold his - I’m sorry.

-What for Drake? For bailing on me? For standing me up in the middle of a date? For playing DOA for the last few weeks? For creeping out at me during class? Yes, I’ve seen you...

-Actually, yes. For everything. I... I just. I was upset, I don’t want you to go, I didn’t know how to put my feelings into words.

-And those are...?

-That I... I...-he sighed- It’s nice talking to you again.

-Well, good to know, Drake. Look. I have to go home now. 

-Oh!

-Look, this doesn’t mean we’re good again or anything, but this Saturday it’s my birthday and I’m throwing a party kind of thing, as it also coincides with the semester’s end...

-Oh! Cool!

-It’d be nice if you could come. You can bring someone if you want to...

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-Aaand? How did it go?

-Well, what do you have to do next Saturday?

-Nothing I think, why?

-Would you like to meet Riley?

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