#god. stop taking things personally dumbass

[bbsmuts]

Anything For The Team ft. Jeon Somi

A/N: I'm writing this to fill in the gap between Mistaken Identity and the upcoming Field Trip finale, which will likely be a couple of months. It was a suggestion by @xiaoondc in light of Somi's appearance at the Tottenham Hotspurs meet & greet. I personally am in favor of the team because my man Son Heung-min plays for them. So consider this a filler smut for the long waiting period. I was originally meaning for this to be a quickie, like 2-2.5k, but I got a little carried away.

Unfortunately all my readers will have to suspend reality a little bit for two reasons. A, because Premiere League games happen in England, and Somi lives in Korea. B, because she'd likely get arrested for what she does in this one. So let's ignore that little snag and those pesky laws and read on. In addition to that, some parts of this were written without a whole ton of thought behind them, since this was never intended to be a long and drawn-out process.

This one will be a little more detailed and a little more accurate than After-match Entertainment, since I actually know how football works (soccer for all you dirty Americans), so I can actually write more of the game into it. Cheers.

And yes, there will more than likely be a part 2 with the Somi x NBA thing.

-상훈

Length: 6.61k

Possible TW: Spanking, choking, noncon, hate fucking, bondage, forced exhibitionism, degradation

Tags: Flashing warning (but literally), gangbang, spanking, choking, hair pulling, slapping, noncon, hate fucking, bondage, forced exhibitionism, spitroasting, DP, degradation

BRRRRRT

Somi's alarm jolted her out of her sleep instantly, the loud tone sending her heart rate through the roof as it always did when she was awoken from sleep suddenly.

"Whatsit..." She mumbled, picking up her phone and looking at it disdainfully. "Come on, it's too early to get up..."

The alarm note read "Don't forget the game, dumbass" and she immediately flew out of bed, suddenly more energized. There was a Tottenham Hotspurs vs. Aston Villa game happening that she had tickets to, and she didn't want to be late.

After speedily getting dressed and doing the quick essentials of her makeup, she went out to the kitchen to grab something to eat before she left. After bolting down her halfassed breakfast she hopped in her car and left, excited to see the Spurs playing in person.

–––

She arrived at the stadium a few miles dow the road later and had to stop and take in the size of the place; it had to be at least 150 feet tall and probably 400 feet long, a truly massive building.

She had her ticket scanned and headed up to her seat, which was located in a private box in the grandstands. She didn't like being in the crowd because she had sensitive ears and all the screaming made her head spin. So she preferred to be by herself. There was still a good fifteen minutes before the game started, and in about ten the players would be lining up on the pitch.

She talked a little to her best friend Eunbin, who unfortunately hadn't been able to make it, before the players were lined up on the pitch and she had to leave the call to see the action. Five minutes before the game, the team captains were to come to the sidelines for the coin flip to decide who got the kick off. As Son Heung-min, who she'd had a crush on for all of her teenage years and still thought was extremely hot, came jogging over to where the referee was, she couldn't help but mentally note the sculpted facial features, the lean and fit body beneath the tight jersey.

"Damn, he's so fine," she murmured to herself, imagination already jumping to filthy thoughts of what she'd let him do to her. Hell, for that guy? She'd do anything. Her mind showed her images of him choking her until she couldn't breathe, spanking her ass until it's red, pulling her hair, fucking her so nice and deep, ohh god yes...

The coin flip was completed and Tottenham got the kick off, so Son and Richarlison were the two who ran to the center of the field, waiting for the ref's whistle to start. The rest of the players took their positions around the pitch and waited as well; after a moment, in which the fans kept up their deafening roar, the whistle was blown and the game began.

Richarlison passed it to Son, who made a move forward past Barkley of Aston Villa, who'd tried to block him. Swiftly and expertly, he weaved and dodged his way between all the Aston Villa defenders and made an appreciable shot at the goal, but it was caught by Martinez, the goalkeeper. The Spurs fans let out a terrible groan, but it did nothing to dissuade the vigor of the team's players. Ignoring the missed goal, they waited for Martinez to throw it back into play.

—————————————————————————————————— A/N: Now, there's a reason I'm not a sports journalist, trying to write out what's usually a mostly uneventful 90 minutes isn't something I want to do here. Xiaoondc and I have planned to make that 90 minutes far more interesting, but for time's sake I'm going to skip around in the game so we're not all here reading a play-by-play of an imaginary game. So for the moment, let's say that it's the 77th minute, and Tottenham are tied with Aston Villa at 2-2. ——————————————————————————————————

It was beginning to look, to Somi, as if the Hotspurs might not win this one. Son, Johnson, and Solanke had been making some spectacular attempts, Son having scored twice, but Martinez's keeping was superb today. Likewise, Aston Villa's forwards had been putting forth a valiant effort against Vicario, but he had held strong and only conceded two goals.

There were only thirteen minutes left in the game, which meant someone needed to score for Tottenham. The trouble was, they were starting to lose focus and Aston Villa was taking advantage of that. If only there were something she could do about it, Somi thought.

And then, it clicked.

There was something she could do. It was risky, risky as hell, but in her mind entirely worth it. After all, she was in a private booth which would, logically, only be visible to people on the field, and...the entire other half of the stadium. The thought, depraved as it was, send shivers running through her and made her pussy wet. But amidst her thought, she saw Son get the ball and make a run down the outer left corner, and the Aston Villa defenders were closing on him...

The want to do it overtook her and with a deep breath, she mustered up her courage and pulled her shirt up, exposing the naked breasts of Jeon Somi to about 20,000 people.

Her mind, having been silent, was not screaming at her to cover herself up, sending the humiliation chemicals to her amygdala. But in the humiliation and risk, she found a thrill that suddenly had her practically panting with lust. With bated breath she waited, her own shirt covering her eyes, and she heard the Aston Villa fans across the pitch groan and then cheer. Confused, she lowered her shirt to watch the replay of whatever happened on the big screen on the other side. The eyes of Nedeljković, an Aston Villa defender who'd been about to steal the ball from Son, slid up to what was obviously her box and he slowed hugely, letting Son through with the ball with an expression of rapturous lust. Son made a great shot, but it was again blocked by Martinez, hence the cheers. Somi looked down at Nedeljković, whose teammates were throwing their hands up in real time, not knowing what he'd seen.

Confidence in her tactic increasing in light of her small victory, she retreated from the window and waited. She'd distracted Nedeljković for the second Son needed to get through, and if he could put the ball into the goal past Martinez, that would almost certainly guarantee the Spurs' win. Approaching the 82nd minute, both teams seemed to be getting more desperate. They started to get rougher, more agitated, and Villa came close to scoring twice. But then Somi's moment arrived, and Richarlison got the ball and sent it down the outside right. Taking another, deeper breath, she slid her pants and panties down her legs and propped herself up on the handrail guarding the window, sticking her ass out towards the crowd. Looking over her shoulder, she saw that the defenders were too focused on keeping him out to look up at her (for all intents and purposes let's say she's in a private box near their end of the field), but she saw Richarlison give a split-second glance at her, and whether it was due to her or not, he suddenly ran faster, and making it past the defenders, slammed his foot into the ball and sent it speeding towards the goal's unprotected left side.

But Martinez was too quick. He sprang to the side and swung his right foot into the ball to counter. It soared across the pitch to the waiting feet of a Tottenham midfielder, who was immediately swarmed by opponents and teammates.

Somi quickly stripped, tossing her clothes aside. Approaching the window again, she was acutely aware of phones being turned to her, fingers pointing, eyes drinking in her naked body through the glass, making her blush even harder.

What the hell am I thinking? She thought, heart pounding as she stood naked before the eyes of thousands. What if I get caught? What if they put me on the news?

But she couldn't lie to herself. If she was to be honest, she knew that she wanted to be caught, she wanted to have everyone know Somi as the slut who flashed tens of thousands of people just to help her team win. And most of all, she wanted Son to see her and know it was her.

The 89th minute. Richarlison came into possession again and took it down the same way as last time, but something was different. Son was running parallel to him up the middle-left side, and Somi knew what was about to happen. In a last ditch-effort, she swung her legs over the rail, propped herself up on it, and spread her legs wide, pushing her feet against the walls on either side for balance.

Somewhere amidst the immediate shame and embarrassment she felt, she registered the sound of the entire opposite side of the pitch collectively gasping and saying "woah". Looking down, she saw the Villa defenders get distracted by the sound and throw questioning glances around, until they spotted her. Mouths dropping open in shock, the lost their concentration and let Richarlison through. It worked! she thought, but instead of shooting for the goal, he sent it to the center, chipping it up over the heads of the starstruck Villa defenders. Son, perfectly positioned, jumped into the air, leaned back, and kicked the ball directly into the top-right corner of the goal, and landed the flip on his feet.

The stadium exploded, the yells of the players entirely drowned out by the roar of the crowd, and the ref's whistle blew three times to signify the end of the match. Son, yelling "YES!" with the rest of his teammates, was borne onto their shoulders. Jumping up and down with elation while the Villa players shook their heads and beat the air with their fists, they made their way over to the sideline, where they all hugged each other and beat Son on the back.

His eyes traveled up the grandstands to her box. She blushed furiously and nearly fell off her perch as she saw his gaze linger on her body before he smiled and nodded a silent thanks to her. Ready to swoon, she got off the rail and got dressed again, silently jubilant that her tactic had worked and, more importantly, Son had noticed her. And looked at her. While she was naked.

The mere thought was enough to make her exultation die down and replace it with pure lust. Undoubtedly there would be a lot of posts about what she'd just done, and a lot of speculation about whether or not it was her. A hot media debate that wouldn't die down for a long time.

Leaving the stadium, she was almost immediately spotted and pointed out by reporters. She realized she'd forgotten to put her mask back on, but she wasn't opposed to an interview.

The nearest one approached her with a cameraman.

"Miss Jeon, would you be so kind as to spare us a moment of your time?"

Shrugging her shoulders, Somi nodded. "Sure. And please, just call me Somi."

"Alright Miss Somi, who are you here to support today?" The mic was held up to her mouth once more.

"Tottenham."

"How do you feel about the game's results?"

"I'm quite happy with how the game ended, and I'm proud of my team for their incredible win."

"Miss Somi, there have been speculations that you were involved in something that has now gone viral, recognize this?"

Somi's cheeks blazed red as the reporter held up her phone, showing a blurred-out video of Somi's own body being flashed to the crowd.

"I-I beg your pardon?"

"Some attenders of the game have been saying online that it was you who was in the video, are they correct?" The reporter's eyes bored into hers.

"I'm a very avid supporter of the Spurs, but suggesting I was involved in any public indecency is quite ludicrous."

She didn't directly deny it, either.

"So it wasn't you?"

"I was simply passionately supporting my team, any rumors of my involvement in public nudity are pure conjecture."

Her avoidance of a definitive answer definitely did not go unnoticed by the reporter, whose eyes narrowed before she concluded the short interview.

"Thank you for your time, Miss Somi."

Grinning to herself, Somi fished her mask out of her pocket and slipped it on before heading back to her car, feeling immense satisfaction in today's events.

...

Late that afternoon, her phone started ringing and she picked it up to see an unknown number calling. The Caller ID was someone named Ange Postecoglou.

"Hello?" She said, accepting the call.

"Good evening, this is Ange Postecoglou, team manager of the Tottenham Hotspurs. To whom am I speaking?"

"Jeon Somi," Somi said, ear-to-ear grin returning to her face. "How can I help you?"

"You're by yourself, I presume?"

"Yes, what is it?"

He lowered his voice. "It was you, wasn't it?"

Somi didn't even need to ask what he was talking about.

"Yes, it was." Her smile widened.

"Well, I'd like to offer you my sincerest thanks for your...erm...assistance today. If not for you, I fear we would have lost."

"Ah, well," Somi said, sitting down on her bed and dangling her feet over the edge, "I just did what I could for my team."

"We'd like to offer you an exclusive opportunity to meet the team."

Somi paused the swinging of her feet, surprised and immediately overtaken with excitement.

"Really?!" She half-shouted, then blushed at her own reaction. "I mean, really?"

"Really." She could hear the amusement in his tone. "They'd like to, uh...thank you personally."

His double meaning was not missed.

"When and where do I go?"

"A black limousine will be outside the Lotte World Mall at 6:30 pm sharp."

"Thanks, I'll be there."

After hanging up, she reverse checked the number and everything checked out, so, nerves jingling with anticipation, she waited the remaining hour and then got ready.

Having more time to prep herself for an outing this time, she selected her favorite and most revealing lacy black bra with matching panties. A short, ruffled black miniskirt and a skimpy red long sleeve crop top were her choices for outerwear.

Adding something a little hotter to her already done makeup from earlier and adding a subtle hint of her sexiest perfume, she gave herself the final touches to make herself as alluring as possible. And so, having prepared, she set out for the mall, which wasn't a far drive. She arrived at 6:27, parked her car near the mall, and waited outside it.

Only a minute later, a black limo with tinted windows and silver lining on them pulled up next to the curb, driver's side facing the sidewalk.

"Miss Somi?" The driver rolled down the window.

"That's me."

"Hop in."

She opened the back door of the limo and got in, immediately surprised by the quality of the interior. Beige leather seats, soft carpet padding, a massive moonroof spanning the entire ceiling of the car, several drink dispensers opposite the seats, a wine rack in the same place, and LED strip lights lining the entire thing. It was one of the nicest limos she'd ever been in, and after sitting down and giving the window separating her and the driver two taps to get him going, she quickly made use of the large bottle of whiskey sitting opposite her. Couldn't hurt to be a little tipsy meeting them.

A few minutes later the limo pulled to a stop in front of a massive building that she could only assume was the Spur's training facility. The driver disembarked and opened her door for her, then led her in through the front doors of the facility, then through a few hallways and a set of double doors. The doors led her back outside to a football pitch, where six of the eleven players who'd participated in the game were lined up on the opposite side. Son, Richarlison, Solanke, Johnson, Moore, and Lankshear, Son in the lead.

The driver left them and Somi, heart pounding with excitement and lust, approached the eleven.

"Mannaseo bangapseumnida, Somi-ssi." Son said, bowing respectfully.

Somi returned the bow. "Machangajilo, oppa."

Inwardly, as she greeted all the others, she found it a little ironic to be addressing each other so politely when they were most likely going to be fucking her senseless momentarily. Their eyes roved over her body, which was barely concealed by her outfit and left almost nothing to the imagination. They seemed hesitant, unsure of her allowance. She reached up to the hem of her crop top and stripped it off, revealing the scanty, lacy bra underneath. Immediately they seemed to become more confident, now that she'd shown them that she had no reservations. They closed in on her, hands feeling up her torso and sliding under her skirt. She bit her lip as their hands explored her body, feeling her arousal increase. She was quickly surrounded, various hands tugging at her skirt until it slid down her thighs, pooling at her feet.

"Mm, like what you see, boys?"

The only response she got was a powerful slap to her ass, which made her moan. Her slick was practically spilling down her thighs, a situation that did not go unnoticed by the team. Various filthy utterances filled her ears, the hands now roughly fingering her pussy making her gasp, pant and moan like she was in heat.

"Fuck, I want it so bad..." She bucked her hips into the hands, feeling her bra being unclasped and her breasts being freed. Hands slid over them as well, squeezing and pinching her nipples. She sank to her knees, grasping and feeling up the rock-hard cocks in their shorts. They wasted no time in ridding themselves of the shorts, revealing 6 throbbing shafts waiting to be sucked dry.

Somi eagerly jammed the first one into her mouth, bobbing her head back and forth passionately. She raised her hands to jerk off two more as more spanks rained down on her ass from behind her. Each slap send a thrill of pleasure-pain through her, and she relished in the sensation as much as she could while going down Solanke. He gathered her hair into a loose ponytail and pulled her head into his crotch. Pumping his hips into her face, driving his cock deeper into her throat, he made her gag and choke on the saliva she inhaled.

"Yes!" She cried as he let her take a breath, pussy throbbing with need. "Fuck my mouth harder daddy!"

He thrust back into her mouth, her eyes rolling back as her throat was bulged. She moaned the fingers getting more daring with each passing second. Her breath hitched at the sensation of three fingers being pushed into her tunnel, her g-spot being ferociously fingered. Pleasure flooded her nerve endings, and her moans increased in volume, in desperation. The thrusts to her face got harder, faster, and she knew he was about to cum.

When a thumb pressed against her clit and circled roughly, she lost it.

Her orgasmic scream was muffled by the thick meat in her throat and Solanke's groan as he shot ropes of cum down her throat. She struggled to draw in oxygen past both blockages, and he pulled out to allow her to breathe.

She gasped in a breath and panted, letting herself fall back to the support of her arms. A large wet spot on the grass made it muddy where she sat, and before long they pulled her onto her knees.

"Please," she murmured as more fingers delved into her hypersensitive slit, the brutal thrusts putting her on edge again. "Please, I want your cocks so bad...please, daddy..."

A pair of powerful arms lifted her into the air, and from a glance over her shoulder she gathered that those powerful arms belonged to none other than Son Heung-min, who'd shed his shirt and shorts. The tip of his cock pressed against her entrance, making her eyes and mouth widen in pure shock and pleasure at the sheer size.

"Please, daddy," she moaned, feeling her hands being cuffed behind her back, "please fuck me! Fuck me so hard I scream and cum on your fucking monster, make me squirt for you, please!"

At this point Somi was shut up by the tip of Lankshear's pressing against her lips, which she opened obediently. Simultaneously, both of them pushed their hips forward, a lot of inches being pushed into both sides of her. She cried out into it, pussy being blissfully stretched out. She felt every inch, every centimeter, every throbbing vein and ridge.

And then they started moving from either side, the sound of skin slapping into skin echoing around the pitch. Her muffled moans, their groans, and the lewd schlicks of both his cock pumping in and out of her slick hole and the other four stroking themselves to the sight.

She closed her eyes and bobbed her head in time with his thrusts, trying to distract herself from or stave off the impending orgasm, but it was pointless. The way the veins on Son's shaft grated against her g-spot felt too good. Her moans turned to cries, which turned quickly to shrieks as the waves of pleasure tore through her, obliterating her mind momentarily. Lankshear pulled out momentarily to allow her to release the wail of pleasure that had built up in her lungs. Eyes rolling back, the sensation wracked her body and she squirted hard, drenching the group and Son's thighs with cum. She couldn't signal to Lankshear that she wanted his cock back in her mouth, so she rolled her eyes back, opened her mouth, and stuck out her tongue to entice him. He took advantage of her tongue being out to achieve deeper penetration in her throat, meanwhile Son kept determinedly pumping away at her pussy. She could tell both of them were nearing orgasm; the telltale moans and "fuck yeah"s didn't do much to hide it.

Lankshear gave out with a groan and buried himself in her throat, choking her and spewing his cum deep down her gullet, delivering a hard slap to her face that only got her going more.

Free from the member bulging her throat, Somi could now fully vocalize the pure bliss she was feeling. Son pulled her upright so they were facing each other, and she felt the steel-solid cords of muscle flexing to hold her up.

"Fuck, fuck, yes, yes right there daddy!" She cried. "Oh my god, yes, right there, you're so big, I'm gonna cum again! You're fucking me so deep, I love it, yes!"

What took her by surprise was Bissouma coming up behind her and taking advantage of her ass cheeks being spread.

"God, that's so deep!" She groaned, three quarters of the big dick in her ass in one stroke.

Son took one hand off her ass and slapped it, earning a yelp from her and more natural lubricant down below. Both fucked her harder and faster, spanking her more, pushing her closer to her third orgasm.

"Yes, yes, yes, more, please!" He took one of her nipples in his mouth, sucking and pinching with his teeth, and she threw her head back, humping into his thrusts desperately. "Ohh fuck yes daddy, please pound me harder, it feels so fucking good, yes! I'm cumming!"

"Jenjang, nado keuraeyo!" Son groaned, keeping up his pace. (Fuck, me too!)

He slammed her down onto his cock while jerking his hips up into her, reaching new depths inside her and firmly pushing into her cervix and causing her third orgasm.

"FUCK!" She saw stars as the pure sensation making fireworks explode in her brain. The orgasm ripped through her body like a gunshot, her nerves on fire with pleasure as she rode it out. She then registered their hot cum spurting into her womb and bowels, the surges of warmth triggering a fourth, mind-shattering orgasm. An overstimulated, moaning sob left her, tears welling in her eyes from the intensity of the feeling. Son gave her supple cheeks one more spank before putting her down none too gently.

She lay still on the ground, chest heaving, covered in sweat. The mud she'd created smudged on her ass and back, having turned cool in the absence of her body heat. Her brain had checked out; there was no comprehensible thought running through it at all.

They allowed her a couple of minutes of recovery time, and when she noticed them approaching she sat up, biting her lip with half lidded eyes. She got on all fours and wiggled her ass, smirking up at them.

"Ready for round two...daddies?"

...

She left the compound with her holes fucked wide open, cum leaking out of every single one, and a fair amount still on her face. She'd decided to keep it there a little while for some selfies.

"I trust you had fun?" Her driver asked once she got back in the limo.

"I did. Back to the mall, please."

"Yes, ma'am."

After the quick drive back to the mall and the selfies she had wanted to take, she thanked the chauffeur and stepped inside the mall to wash off her face. Deciding to go for a little walk over the Jamsil Bridge in the cool night air, she started the entirely deserted footpath.

She was about two third of the way through the bridge when a group of men - very muscular men, Somi noted - entered the footpath from the opposite side. As they drew nearer, she recognized one of them. Then two, then three. Then all five of them.

"No way..." she muttered, stopping dead in her tracks as she recognized five of the Aston Villa players, Nedeljković in the lead. And none of them looked happy to see her.

"Well, well, well..." Nedeljković said, tone low and menacing. "Look what we have here."

"If it isn't Jeon Somi," said Torres, voice laced with anger, gesturing for the other three to surround her from the back. "The passionate Tottenham supporter."

"And dressed like she's heading to her night shift at the local whorehouse." One of the voices behind her said.

She took a step back from Nedeljković, a feeling of fear rearing its head inside her. Surely they wouldn't beat her up? A five on one? With cars watching?

But the cars weren't watching. The cars were on the uppermost section of the bridge, and the six of them were directly beneath, completely out of sight. The fear intensified.

"What do you say boys?" Nedeljković asked.

She sensed the three behind her closing in as the two in front did the same; panicking, she turned around and tried to push through them, but their arms shot out and held her back. Nedeljković took her by the hair, bicep flexing with the force with which he was holding on, and pulled her head back to look at him.

"We're going to make you pay for what you did, Somi."

"Please," Somi whispered, not even attempting to escape for fear of further abuse. "Don't hurt me...

"Hurt you?" The entire group laughed, and he took her arms and pinned them to the fence wall she was backed against. "God, she's so naive. We're not gonna hurt you, you dumb bitch. Pretty little thing like you, we're gonna pay you back for what you did another way..."

Her eyes widened at the implication and her cheeks flushed red.

"No, please don't!" She struggled a little bit, to which he put a hand around her neck and pushed lightly. "Please...have mercy..."

Despite how scared she was of them, she couldn't deny that the position he had her in was making her very aroused. Being helpless like this, it turned her on to the point where she was literally trembling, cheeks flushed red and pussy wet again.

"Look at this, lads!" He said, grip tightening on her neck. "We haven't even done anything and this slut is already panting like a bitch in heat!"

His hand left her neck and trailed its way down her body, caressing her breasts, down her abs, and up her skirt, pushing a couple of fingers into her past the panties.

"Mmm~" She purred, biting her lip at the sensation and the fact that she was completely helpless to whatever he wanted to do.

"Yeah, you like that, you little whore?"

"Yes~" She bucked her hips into his fingers, gasping, her eyebrows arching upwards as he roughly palmed her clit and rubbed her g-spot. "Oh fuck - oh my god yes - just like that~"

He slapped her face hard, making her gasp again, and kept fingering her.

"When I ask you a question, you address me properly, do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, sir!" She rolled her hips into his hand desperately, already on edge from his skilled touch. "Oh, please, sir, keep going, make me cum!"

She moaned desperately, needily, begging for release, but his fingers disappeared at the last second.

"No, please!" She squeezed around pure air, whimpering at the absence of the fingers.

"Shut up." Another slap landed on her face. "I said we're giving you some payback, not rewarding you."

He turned her around, and she felt leather cuffs being secured into place on her wrists behind her back. The next second, three fingers had been shoved into her pussy again, making her cry out.

"Fuck, that's it...ooh yess sir please keep going, just like that..."

"Shut the fuck up and take it." He smacked her ass.

"Yes, sir," she gasped, wiggling it as his fingers moved in and out of her.

"Oh my god yes, I'm cumming, fuck!"

But he pulled the fingers out at the last second, denying her the orgasm again.

"Fuck you!" She cried in frustration, an involuntary whine leaving her mouth again.

Quick as lightning, he darted around to where her face was and roughly grabbed her by the jaw, making her look at him.

"What did you just say to me?"

"Nothing!" She immediately became small and submissive again, made nervous by his aggression. "I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean it."

He sat down on the ledge and pulled her over his lap, lifting her skirt up over the swell of her hips.

"Now, you're going to learn what happens to bad little whores when they misbehave and talk back their owners.

He bent her over his knee and put his right leg over the backs of her knees, effectively trapping her, and started viciously spanking her over her panties, which did nothing to protect her ass from the relentless assault.

"Ow! Fuck! Sir, please, it hurts!"

"Of course it does, you dumbass whore!"

Tears sprang to her eyes at the continued abuse of her pinkened cheeks, and she struggled a bit, which only earned her harder smacks.

"I'm sorry, sir!"

"You better be fucking sorry!" He continued, heedless of her words.

And yet, in the pain of his powerful spanks, she felt her arousal spike. She arched her back into it, suddenly craving more punishment, more humiliation. She was totally, hopelessly turned on by the position she found herself in.

"Harder!" She begged. "Please, sir, punish me harder!"

"You hearing this slut?" He muttered to the rest of the team. "Begging for more punishment. Just a masochistic little pain slut, aren't you?"

"Yes, sir!" Her own submission driving her crazy with lust, she kept arching her back, wiggling her hips. He increased the force of the spanks, making her moan louder, and when he added the fingers back, she fell apart.

She barely recognized the voice that screamed out of her throat; it sounded most unlike her: high-pitched, desperate, needy. And in her body, among the orgasmic eruption inside, she recognized another feeling: Hunger. She wanted them, she wanted them a lot.

"P-please," she whimpered, her entire body hot and shaking, "please give me your dick, s-sir..."

"You hear that, lads? She wants our dicks."

"Please, sir," she almost whispered, eyes half-lidded, "I want it so bad..."

He positioned himself behind her and pushed into her, groaning at the tightness. He ripped off her panties, reached forward, and pushed them into her mouth; she could taste her own arousal and it only made her hornier.

"Fuck me...fuck me hard, sir, I need it..."

Fast, hard, brutal strokes were what she got in return. The sheer force of each thrust pushed her forward and made her ass and breasts jiggle. Though muffled by her panty gag, her cries could easily be heard by all.

"Yes, yes, yes, yes, just like that, fuck me just like that sir! Ohh god it's so good, so deep inside me!"

He stopped momentarily, laid down under her so she was on top, and then resumed. A second cock pressed against her asshole and entered, making her double over, not expecting the sudden penetration. One of Nedeljković's hands reached up and grasped her throat and she bit her lip in arousal.

"Now, tell me Somi, are you ever going to do something like that to fuck up our game again?"

She shook her head, earning her a slap, which intensified her lust.

"Say it properly."

"No, sir," she moaned, "I won't, sir..."

"Good girl." She shivered. "You kept us from winning by doing that."

"Well, maybe if you'd – ohh fuck~...played better, you wouldn't have lost." She was playing with fire and she knew it, but it was worth seeing the surprised and angry look on his face. His hand closed on her face, pulling it close to his.

"You better watch what you say to me, slut."

"Get better at football."

He slapped her, grabbed her hips and started slamming his into them. Her moans turned to screams, her entire lower region being overridden by the sharp increase in pleasure.

"F-fuck, that's t-too much!" She cried, involuntarily bucking her hips, her body betraying her words. "S-so good!"

He ignored her and , keeping the impacts in time with his thrusts.

"Care to take that back?"

"Yes, sir, I'm sorry, sir, I didn't mean it!" She was going to cum again and she knew it, and there was nothing she could or wanted to do about it. She reveled in the harsh treatment, in the submission they required from her, that she so willingly gave. The throbbing in her asshole intensified, and another torrent of warmth shortly followed a groan, leaving Nedeljković as the last one in the game.

"Do you wanna cum?"

"Yes, sir, please, make me squirt for you!"

"If that's the best you can do then I don't think you want to cum. You'll have to beg me."

He slid himself out from under her and stood, his cock resting on her face as she knelt and looked up at him.

"Please, sir, please let me cum, I want to cum so bad! I want to squirt on your big dick, I need you to fuck me and make me cum again, please~"

"Oh, you need me to? Well, if you insist..."

He pushed her down onto all fours and knelt behind her, slapping her ass before entering her again in a single, well-lubricated stroke.

"Oh god yes," she groaned, feeling him push down on her head, ensuring she was under his control. "So fucking big..."

"Keep your pretty head down, Somi," he growled in her ear, his voice making her shiver with arousal.

"Yes, sir," she moaned breathlessly, trying to buck up into him to impale herself deeper. Her shouts and his grunts reverberated around the footpath, and she did nothing to stop them. Dimly, she recognized the feeling of the cuffs being taken off her, and she pushed herself up with trembling arms.

"Oh yes, fuck my little pussy harder!" He reached around, pressed his index and middle fingers to her clit, and rubbed hard, sharply spiking her pleasure. "Ngghh fuck yes! So deep, yes, yes, please don't stop! I'm cumming!"

His fist closed on her hair again, the vicelike grip unyielding. It took only a few moments before she herself closed like a vice on his cock, and she gave a wild yell as a stream of cum sprayed out of her. He grunted, breathing out heavily in an almost-groan as his own cum spurted deep into her.

"Oh god...oh fuck..." She breathed like she'd been running for miles, and her arms folded under the weight of her own upper body.

"God damn..." Nedeljković commented, getting dressed again, "Much as I hate this bitch's guts, she is a good fuck. Cuff her to the fence."

Wait, what?! She was woken from her stupor by the feeling of two strong hands lifting her up and dragging her to the fence, directly into the view of traffic. The leather cuffs clicked into place, leaving her sitting on the concrete with her arms above her head, and she was too weak to resist.

The three who hadn't fucked her stepped forward, finally unleashing their loads on her. Thick shots of cum streaked her thighs, abs, breasts, and face, the last few landing in her obediently open mouth. The three quickly got dressed and her brain was immediately awake as hell when they started walking away.

"Wait! I'm still here!"

"Yeah, we know." Nedeljković called over his shoulder. "I wonder how long it'll be before someone finds you?"

"Let me go! Please!"

They ignored her pleas and she settled back down, resigning herself to it. A flash of white caught her eyes, and she looked up just in time to see a phone being stowed back away before the car drove past.

"Great," she muttered to herself, feeling her face grow hot. "Guess it's gonna be a long night."

...

A/N: Yeah, I did just leave her there for all the traffic and walkers to see. Thanks for reading!

[spitblaze]

Well I'm glad that my brain has stopped trying to use social faux pas I made at age ten as proof that I'm a bad person and everyone actually thinks I'm a piece of shit human being and I should stop trying to be friends with people but it has moved on to using more recent social faux pas and stupid identity-based internet discourse to do the same thing and I don't think that's much better if I'm being honest

[our-inspire-verse]

"I am such a bad partner im evil im horrible"

No no bad for your mental health! Try i feel statements

"ok. Okok. I FEEL like fucking laying down in the road. I FEEL like im constantly about to lose everything i work hard to build and it's going to end up killing me. And i FEEL as if i don't deserve solace or peace or to heal and improve"

Wait-

[confetti-critter]

I have a bike, and could try using it to get to places, but the thought of biking in bike lanes so close to cars is so nerve wracking :(

[slutt4lovee]

friends (b.b.)

𝚗𝚊𝚟𝚒 - 𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜 - 𝚛𝚎𝚚𝚞𝚎𝚜𝚝 𝚛𝚞𝚕𝚎𝚜 - 𝚖𝚊𝚜𝚝𝚎𝚛𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

pairing: bucky barnes x fem!reader

word count: 2356

warnings: NO SMUT, just cutesy fluff, maybe just a tiny bit of angst but not really, nothing really to warn about. might be some typos and shit but at this point y'all should be expecting this from my dyslexic ass.

summary: After being friends with Bucky for years, you finally get the confession you've been dreaming of.

Being Bucky's friend isn't really as great as Steve made it seem. Sure, Bucky is caring and funny and fiercely protective of the things and people that he loves. Yes, he's funny and charming and everything good in the world, but he is also arrogant and cocky and so emotionally repressed that you're not even sure he knows what feelings are anymore.

Being Bucky's friend means that you're also the Winter Soldier's best friend and that is a horrible feeling. Not because of the fact that he is the Winter Soldier but more so because the Winter Soldier has a fucking martyr complex. Despite the fact that Bucky is an amazing person who you think encompasses every good aspect of the world, he's an incredible dumbass. Not just a regular dumbass, the kind of fucking idiot that thinks everyone else, everything else is more important than him. The kind of idiotic person that thinks everyone but him is worth saving, the kind who runs head first into danger because he genuinely doesn't care if he lives or dies as long as he saves someone. Bucky is the type of imbecile that would run into a building, knowing it was rigged with explosives just to save a cat.

Bucky may be one of the best people you've ever met, but being his friend is horrible.

It's caring so intensely for someone who doesn't even care about himself. It's not being able to see or even speak to him for weeks or months because he's off on some insanely stupid mission to save the fucking world or something stupid like that. It's him constantly thinking he's some kind of invincible god and you having to remind him over and over and over that he's not. No matter how much he might look like one. It's trying to convince someone that hates his entire fucking existence that he deserves every soft, sappy thing in the world no matter how much he thinks he doesn't.

But worst of all it's being in love with a complete fucking idiot who doesn't even think he's worthy of love. You'd take all the anxiety, the panic, the dread, the crying and worry a million times over if you could just not be in love with that complete fucking dumbass. Or if you could maybe convince him that he deserves all the love in the fucking world.

—

You can't sleep, never can when he's gone. Some stupid romance movie you've seen about a hundred times plays on your tv—a feeble attempt to keep your mind off Bucky. To keep your mind from imagining what he's doing on his mission and all the ways it could go horribly wrong.

It doesn't really work.

It's almost impossible to keep him out of your mind. When you're not worrying about all the ways he could be killed, you're pining after him in the worst fucking way.

Just staring mindlessly at the screen daydreaming about him and the way his clothes always fit just right, just enough to give you a good view of his muscles without being too tight. And the way he looks in his stupidly attractive one armed outfits he wears on missions—which shouldn't be so fucking hot, but it is, it really fucking is. And his lips, just everything about them, their shape, their pretty pink color, the way they look so fucking soft all the god damned time. And that boyish, way too endearing, smirk of his that makes your heart feel like it's about to burst out of your chest. And his hands and the way they feel against your skin, rough calloused fingers with a touch so soft it sends chills down your spine. And—and, God you're so fucking fucked about him.

He's your best friend, really one of your only friends, and yet you can't stop thinking about him doing filthy things—that he would probably never do—to you. It's horrible and dirty and disrespectful but you just can't stop, thinking about Bucky's mouth and if it's really as soft as it looks.

You smell him before you even hear him, woody smoke, and honey, mixed with sweat. You smile softly to yourself as he drops his bag to the ground with a little grunt. Your mind moves slowly, struggling through your lack of sleep to put pieces together. You're clumsily climbing over the back of the couch the second you realize he's really there.

"Bucky," You start to say, stumbling a little at the ungraceful way you dismount from the back of the couch. "What the fuck?" You ask, waving your hands up and down in his general direction.

He's not sure if you're questioning his appearance or his presence...maybe both. You're not really sure either.

"I just got back," He mutters, words dripping with exhaustion as his arms slip lazily around your waist, making you trip over your own feet as he pulls you into his chest.

"You didn't text," You whisper, matching the soft tone of his voice as you slide your arms around his neck, resting your chin on his shoulder.

He doesn't respond right away, he pulls you closer instead, grabbing onto your shirt to keep you there as if you had any plans on letting go. He makes a soft, barely audible noise, as he hides his face in the crook of your neck. His arms are tight around your waist, holding you to him like he's scared you're just gonna disappear and the thought makes your chest ache. You tilt your head, squeezing your eyes shut as your nose presses into the top of his shoulder, your lips just barely touching the leather on his jacket. Your nose floods with his scent, and you find yourself wishing you could capture it and keep it forever. He smells like camping in the summer, like searching for bugs and plants and pretty rocks in the woods, like staring up at the sky and pointing out the prettiest ones.

He smells likehome, warm and cozy and safe.

Slowly it feels like every ounce of worry and dread is leached out of your body. He's home, he's safe, he's here in your arms and nothing else fucking matters. This is the good part, this right here, all the worrying and sleepless nights are worth it just for this feeling. This happy sort of peaceful relief you get every time he comes back safe.

"M'sorry," He mutters after a few seconds, his words muffled in the crook of your neck. "Jus' wanted to get home."

Your stomach twists at that, a giddy sort of feeling floating around in your stomach at his words. He came straight from his mission to you. Didn't stop at his place, didn't go to the compound, he came straight to you. Straight home to you.

"Took ya long enough." You whisper against his shoulder, voice light and teasing as his grip on your shirt tightens.

He doesn't say anything, but you can tell this one must've been rough on him. It's obvious from the way he's clutching your shirt like a lifeline. Holding you to his chest like he thought he'd never see you again, like he's scared to let go. You don't ask him about it, he'll talk when he's ready, but you do hold him just as tight as he holds you. Rub your hands along his back, over his shoulder, up the back of his neck, lingering the softest touches everywhere you can reach because you know it calms him down.

"S'good you came home, you were gone so long I was about to come lookin' for you." You tell him, smiling softly against his neck at the little snort he lets out.

He's quiet for a bit longer, just standing there with his arms around your waist, his hands clutching at your shirt like he's terrifiedyou're going to vanish. After a while he relinquishes your shirt and before you can even think about pulling away, not that you would, his hands are running down to the backs of your thighs.

"M'sorry," He murmurs into your neck, lifting you up and wrapping your legs around his waist like you weigh absolutely nothing. "Came as quick as I could, darlin', didn't even get to shower or anything."

"Did you eat?" You ask softly, holding onto him a little tighter as he hooks his arms back around your waist.

He shakes his head and you start to offer to cook him something while he showers but he's walking in the direction of your bedroom before you can get a single word out. He nudges your bedroom door open with the toe of his boot without saying a word and it makes you frown because Bucky is never silent around you. Talks so damn much you started to think he just liked the sound of his own voice (really he just loved the sound of yours but he's not about to admit something that sappy).

"Do you want to eat?" You ask, voice all soft and sweet in a way that makes his head spin.

He shakes his head again and without even letting go of you, he falls forward onto your bed, sandwiching you between him and your mattress. He's heavy, dense, thick muscle directly on top of you, but you don't complain. You wouldn't dare tell him that he's crushing your fucking chest because then he'd let go and you don't want that.

He settles with his head on your chest, his ear pressed up against the center of it. Listening closely to the sound of your heart like he didn't believe it was real. His hand slips a little under the hem of your shirt but stays resting on your hip as if all he wanted was just to feel your skin.

He's silent for a while, laying so still that you almost think he's fallen asleep. You don't say anything either because what could you possibly say? You could tell him about work or something but you're almost certain he doesn't want to hear that.

"Thought you were dead..." He whispers as he nuzzles his face against the center of your chest. His hands squeeze at your hips and you can't shake the feeling that he's trying to make sure you're real.

You don't really know what to say to that either. You stroke your fingers through his hair and you swear you feel your heart break a little at the pain in his voice.

"God, I thought you were fucking dead..." His voice cracks a little this time and his arms wrap around your waist tight, too tight but you don't say a thing. You're happy to just let him squeeze the life out of you if it makes him feel even a little bit better. "They...they got in my head, made me see things...and all I could think about was that I never got the chance to tell you."

"Tell me what?" You ask and you think your voice comes out a bit strained because he immediately loosens his grip.

"That I'm fucking in love with you," He forces out, voice rough with emotion as he shifts a little so that he's looking down at you.

Your heart fucking stops at his words and all you can do is just stare up at him like a complete fool. Cheeks flushing bright red and eyes wide as you stammer and choke on 16 different failed attempts at speech.

He loves you. No. He's in love with you.

"I thought you were dead and all I could think about was that you didn't know I loved you." He tells you, voice softening some as his eyes scan over your face. "All I wanted to fucking do was hold you and kiss you and just fucking touch you again and I know that's so fucking selfish of me but...fuck."

"You...love me?" Your voice comes out all meek and unsure as you look up at him. You're not even sure if your heart has started beating again because it feels like you could, very well, drop dead at any fucking second.

"Of course I do you fucking idiot." Bucky laughs and the sound is utterly heart wrenching to you. He tries to smile but it just looks so fucking sad that you want to cry.

And maybe he's right and you are a fucking idiot because you can't think of anything to say. You want to tell him you love him too but the words won't come up, they stick in the back of your throat and make you choke. All you can manage is to reach out, grab his face, and pull it down to yours in a pathetic excuse for a kiss.

He kisses you back instantly, taking control of the kiss, somehow calmer than you. His lips are soft and sweet against yours and nowhere near as clunky and uncoordinated as you but he doesn't seem to mind in the slightest. He smiles a little against your near frantic lips, one hand coming up to cradle the side of your face.

It's not your first kiss, not even close, but you're so clumsy with it that it damn near feels like it. He hums against your lips like it's the best damn kiss he's ever had, strokes his thumb over your cheek and laughs when your teeth hit his.

You think he'll pull away, you would if you were him, but he doesn't. If anything he kisses you a bit harder, trying to take control of the kiss and guide your lips to work with his and it works wonders, you practically melt into it. He makes a soft, pleased sound in the back of his throat when you finally relax and then his tongue slides over your bottom lip and you melt all over again.

You've never been the biggest fan of tongue kissing, it's always just so wet and slimy and forceful. But there's something about the way Bucky's tongue slides so so softly across your bottom lip that has you parting your lips without a second thought. And you don't fucking regret it at all.

It doesn't feel all slimy and gross like you're used to. His tongue is soft and wet and there's a faint hint of sweet mint as he kisses you. One of his hands squeezes at your waist under your shirt and he fucking groans like kissing you is the best thing he's ever experienced.

He kisses you until you're both breathless, until your lips are raw and swollen and slick with spit.

His forehead presses against yours and his voice comes out all hoarse and raspy as he says, "Fuck, I could kiss you for fucking ever,"

You laugh at that and the noise is so soft and sweet that it makes his breath hitch. You flutter your eyes open, thumbs stroking at the side of his neck as you look up at his flushed face.

"I love you too," You whisper and God, the way he smiles sends a jolt of warm heat through your body. "I didn't say it earlier, but I do. I really fucking do."

[thepixelelf]

warnings: coarse language. wc: 793

[the amnesia card always declines]

If there's one thing Joshua Hong has above all else, it's the audacity.

If there's two things, it's the audacity and the most grabbable, stupidly defined, makes-you-wanna-bite-into-them man tits you've ever seen in your godforsaken, miserable life.

Well, okay, maybe that counts as three things. Whatever.

"Oh my fucking god," you hiss, ducking closer to the coffee shop/bakery's table and hiding your entire head with both arms. "What is he doing here?!"

Soonyoung, the least subtle person you know (but you've given up on fixing him at this point) turns 180 degrees in his chair to watch the loser posing for a "totally casual" photoshoot outside. He hums in understanding, putting his hand under his chin like an experienced detective. "He must've seen your instagram story."

"He doesn't even follow me..."

"Oh, he's following you, alright." Soonyoung turns back around and stabs his fork into his strawberries 'n' cream croffle.

You glare at him over the pastries on the table. "Very funny."

"I know I am," he says with a dumb smile that says your sarcasm was not effective! "When are you going to stop holding your stupid grudge?"

An offended scoff escapes you. "It is a completely reasonable grudge, for your information."

"What, you being mad at him for...kissing you at that party?"

"For smooshing that stupid pretty face on mine at that party then acting like it never happened!" You slap your hands on the table, but as soon as you spot Joshua outside start to turn his head, you duck back into hiding.

Soonyoung points his fork at you. "He was drunk."

"So was I," you argue with a sneer. "But I remember everything-- especially you being the reason we had to cut the night short because you started drunk-crying and I had to take you home."

Suddenly capable of shame, Soonyoung scoots forward in his chair and leans over the table. "Have I mentioned that I love you and you're the best friend in the world?"

"Whatever, buddy." You roll your eyes. "Just remember all the shit I've done for you when I'm the one crying in the club."

"Crying in the club?" echoes Joshua--

Joshua?!

Your soul escapes your body entirely and jolts back in a nano-second. "Holy fuck--" You put a hand over your racing heart and send a death glare to the smug offender. "You scared the shit out of me!"

Joshua just smiles that stupidly pretty smile and, damn it, you're supposed to be ignoring this jackass.

"Sorry," he says, but he doesn't sound sorry at all. "Are you free?"

Making a face, you look over at Soonyoung, who just shrugs, then back at Joshua. "...Right now?"

"Right now is good." He nods in thought. "Or later today. Or tomorrow. If not, then the day after that. You've been avoiding me."

You force your shoulders to relax and avert your eyes. "No I haven't."

Joshua's expression suddenly goes solemn, which you notice because, shit, you started looking at him again. "Did I do something?"

At that, you scoff, crossing your arms and shaking your head in disbelief.

"Seriously. That party... I don't remember much, except that I've barely seen you since."

"Don't play the amnesia card on me, Josh. It's so tired."

His brows furrow, and your stupid fingers want to massage the hurt look right off his forehead. As if the dumbass deserves it.

"It's not amnesia," Joshua says. "But it's fuzzy. I can't tell what really happened that night or what was just my dream."

"Really? We're talking dreams now?"

He shrugs, crossing his arms, which fold just underneath those stupid, huge pecs... "I happen to dream about you a lot."

"Mmhm... Sure..." Are they bigger than the croffles? The melon buns? The... "Wait-- what?"

Joshua smiles, and you just know he caught you staring, the little shit. "I said, I dream about you a lot. Kiss scenes included."

Your jaw drops, maybe to the floor, but you can't be bothered to check. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Soonyoung make a perfect circle with his mouth before he hurriedly asks the barista if they serve popcorn.

"Joshua Hong, you..." Standing from your chair, you fist the collar of his fleece sweater in both hands, primed to throttle. "...are so fucking stupid."

Then somehow, even though you're the one who pulls him in, he's the one who takes your breath away.

When your lips part, though, you open your eyes while his stay closed, and he leans in again.

"Wait," you say, halting him with the one word. "How did you find me here?"

Wincing, Joshua peeks just one eye open. "Please don't be mad at him."

You whip around, but the bell over the shop's door is already tinging, and Soonyoung is dashing across the street like his life depends on it.

Good, because it does.

"Kwon Soonyoung! You are so fucking dead!"

[mediumgayitalian]

“Hide me hide me hide me hide me hide me.”

Nico blinks, watching blankly as Will ducks under his arm, situating himself behind the door and peeking around it. When Nico doesn’t move, he cranes his neck to look at him, face urgent, and says, “Close it, dude, hurry up!

“Solace!”

“Fuck,” Will curses.

Nico blinks again. He squints across the common, trying to suss out what Will’s staring at. It doesn’t take long. She’s hard to miss, especially in full armour.

“Are you…hiding from Clarisse?”

“Am I hiding from —” He scoffs. “No, I’m just behind this door for fun. Fucking obviously I’m hiding from Clarisse, Nico, now get with the program and close the damn —”

“Solace!”

Both of them jump. When Nico looks, Clarisse is already way closer than she should be. Before he can process enough to slam the door, and heedless of Will’s increasingly-harried oh my gods oh my gods oh my gods fuck fuck fuck fuck, Clarisse is closer, and closer, and then suddenly she’s barging inside, pushing Nico aside like it’s not his damn cabin.

Will groans. “Aw, come on, Clarisse!”

She doesn’t bother to humour him with words, choosing instead to grab him by the collar and drag him bodily out. Will does not make it easy, going completely limp and getting his clothes grass-stained beyond belief, because Clarisse tugs him along like a sled behind her, bouncing over every stone. Nico follows, on the grounds that it’s not being nosy if Will dragged him into it technically.

“You have siblings! You have a boyfriend!”

“And yet I’m choosing you,” Clarisse says easily. “I’ve already told Chiron. It’s a done deal, weatherboy. You’re chariot racing with me.”

Will groans, trying in vain to squirm out of Clarisse’s grip. “There is no reason for me to be your partner in the stupid chariot race, I am a healer, I am at camp to heal —”

She shakes him a little to shut him up. “All the more reason. You focus too much on one thing, brat. All you do is heal and study like a big nerd. You need to get out of your comfort zone.”

“Um, no way. I’m very comfortable in it. That’s why it’s called a comfort zone.”

“You could use some training,” Nico pipes up, and the betrayed look Will gives him would be more effective at making him feel bad if it wasn’t so funny. “Last time I tried to teach you how to use a sword you almost sliced off your own face, so.”

Clarisse looks at him with appraisal. “Maybe you do have some sense in you, di Angelo.”

Nico chooses to take that as the compliment it is.

“Ugh,” Will says dramatically, and finally manages to wrench out of Clarisse’s grip in order to embed the appropriate level of drama in his face-down flop to the floor.

Clarisse kicks him. “You’re pathetic.”

“Ugh.”

Notably, he stops protesting. She kicks him again, affectionately this time, and stomps away.

———

“If I work myself into another coma, I don’t have to chariot race,” Will says gleefully, shoving the bottles of nectar Nico hands him onto a shelf. He’s been buzzing around the infirmary all day, healing things he is meant to be healing with a band-aid and a stop being a clumsy dumbass, dumbass with hymns and salves. “I’m gonna try to cure cancer again.”

Kayla, walking by, reaches out and smacks him. “Try it and I’m crack your country CDs in half.”

Will turns to her, opening his mouth —

“Every single one of them,” she stresses, green eyes narrowed.

— and closes it again, huffing.

“I’ll find a way,” he says glumly.

Nico pats him delicately on the back. “There, there.” A pause. “I mean, personally, I can’t wait to watch you fall out of a chariot.”

The look Will shoots him is nothing short of wounded. “You think I’m so uncoordinated I’m gonna fall out of the chariot?”

“Gracefully!” assures Austin from across the infirmary, smiling supportively. He grins brightly when they turn to look, nose scrunching with the force of his smile. “I’m sure!”

Will’s scowl twitches in the face of his brother’s blind enthusiasm. (It is impossible not to be endeared by Austin. He is genuinely the sweetest kid in the entire universe. Nico even gets, to his horror, the occasional urge to squish him. Gently.) He sighs.

“Thanks, Austin.”

“Of course! Love you Will!”

The twitching scowl melts into a full smile. “Love you too, kiddo.”

———

Watching chariot race practices, very quickly, becomes Nico’s favourite pastime.

He sees, now, why Achilles would bring them up, unprompted, wistful look in his eye, every time Nico visited. There’s a beauty in the rawness of it; the whipping winds, wild horses. Squealing wheels and bending axels, open-backed and inches from death at all time. Dangerous, exhilarating. Humanity, at it’s most thrilling and old — some of the first tools, the first domestic animals, the first machines, all at once. It’s pure, raw excitement.

Also, Will falls out of the chariot, like, eight whole times. And there’s nothing funnier than watching him lose his shit at a splintered pile of wood that was once a carriage, helmet thrown to the ground in a fit of rage, accent so thick he’s literally incomprehensible. Nico never gets to see him like this. His stomach actually hurts from laughter on several occasions.

Slowly, though, he starts to get the hang of it. He’s smart — incredibly so — and when he stops spending half his time complaining, and the other half pouting, he actually gets pretty decent. He’s fast, after all, and quick to observe, to respond; the other teams struggle to land hits on him, in practice runs, and sabotage is difficult when your opponent seems to have an almost prophetic gift to see things coming.

He can’t, however, steel himself to hit back.

And therein lies the trouble.

“For fuck’s sake, Will, I’m not asking you to kill anybody,” Clarrise snaps. “You need to get your head in the game!”

Will’s shoulders curl defensively. “I know! I’m trying! It’s just —” He kicks at their broken wheel, in two clean pieces on the ground. “Do no harm.”

“Do some harm. Or I’m gonna kick your ass.”

Will brightens. “And then ask somebody else to be your partner?”

“No, and then make you my partner forever.”

“Oh.”

Will’s sullen face is hard to look at. He’s got those big, puppy dog eyes, round and sad and pouty. Not even Clarisse is immune. (And certainly not Nico, who finds himself halfway off the spectator’s stands and jogging to the tracks before he wonders what exactly, the fresh fuck, he is doing, and sprints right back.)

“Shit, Solace, don’t look like I killed your goddamn mother.” She cuffs him on the shoulder, sending him sprawling with a muffled oof. “We’ll figure it out. Let’s go again.”

Accepting the spare chariot someone wheels towards her, she pulls herself up, making space for Will to do the same. He doesn’t get on immediately, still looking miserable, but concedes eventually.

His forearms look kind of nice when he grips onto the rails for dear life, Nico notices. From a totally objective perspective.

The four practicing teams guide their horses to the starting line, running a few last minute checks. To avoid spilling any secrets or strategies, everyone uses the same practice-issue wooden chariot and wears the same armour, but it’s still obvious who’s who.

The Hephaestus team’s chariot, despite being standard issue, gleams like it’s brand-new. The wood is polished and looks to be altered, barely; a carved groove here, a sharper wing there. Nothing that could really be considered an upgrade, but definitely making the whole thing look smoother. The spears they hold promise a plethora of untold ability hidden within.

The Hermes chariot looks deceptively beat up. There’s a chunk missing from the top of the left side, and one of the wheels appears to be just slightly out of alignment. Upon careful inspection, though, Nico can see clear, hollow tubing attached along the rails and open to the back — definitely a quick rig of some sort. Base (not acid, Cecil had happily lectured him on the benefits of using a base rather than an acid when dissolving anything from steel to human flesh), if Nico has to guess, or maybe Greek fire.

The Aphrodite-Iris chariot doesn’t have to do much to look great. The whole thing seems to coast gracefully to the beginner line, and neither charioteer looks particularly bothered or preoccupied with the competition — if Nico recalls correctly, and he does, their goal is to win through “gay audacity”, which Nico does not understand but supports wholeheartedly.

Will and Clarisse’s chariot, by comparison, is pretty run-of-the-mill. They haven’t done much training with the Ares horses or the Apollo flying chariot, because Clarisse is primarily concerned with training Will — she knows the equipment is fine.

Lacy, standing at the edge of the track, puts a sparkly pink whistle to her lips and blows loudly. It’s not nearly as loud as one of Will’s sonic whistles, but it does the trick, and the teams are off in a blur of movement; Will and Clarisse in the lead, Hephaestus behind them, Aphrodite-Iris in third, and Hermes lagging slightly behind.

As they turn their first corner, positions largely unchanging, Nico hears footsteps from his left — Lou Ellen smiles at him as she climbs the stand, settling into the space he makes next to him.

“What’d I miss?” she asks, brushing dust off her hands.

He shrugs. “Not much. They were in the lead the last practice round, too, but on the last lap Hermes caught up.” He gestures to the heap that was once their practice chariot. “Julia had her sword at their wheels. They were on the inner ring, nowhere to move; the only way to get rid of them would have been to knock her arm, probably dislocate her shoulder. Will couldn’t do it.”

Lou Ellen winces. “Ah.”

There’s a ripping sound, followed by cackling — the Hermes chariot has finally made use of their hasty rigging, setting off an explosion behind them that rockets them forward. It has the added bonus of shaking the ground, slightly, unsettling the other drivers for just barely long enough for them to pull into third place. Far ahead, still in first, Nico can see Clarisse yelling instructions at Will, although he can’t hear what they are. His grip on the rail has tightened.

“Why,” starts Nico carefully, and based on Lou Ellen’s pinched face she knows exactly where he’s going, “does she make him — well, you know.”

Lou Ellen is silent for a good long while, watching the practice chariot race with eyes that aren’t paying attention. Hermes is gaining, but Hephaestus is gaining faster.

“Clarisse has always liked Will,” she says eventually. She meets Nico’s incredulous expression, snorting. “Well, as much as Clarisse can like people. I got here way after he did, so I don’t have any more details there than you do, but he’s never been afraid of her, and she likes that. He’s never been mean to her, either. I mean, I know she can be a bully, but people aren’t exactly light on her, to be fair.”

The Aphrodite-Iris chariot turns out to have some tricks up its sleeve — it starts to glow; barely at first, but quickly blinding. At its crux, everyone has to look away, allowing them to pull into first.

Well, except that Will doesn’t seem nearly as staggered as everyone else. In fact, he doesn’t look bothered at all — for the first time that Nico has seen, there’s something like competition pulling a crooked smile on his face. He stares straight at the still-too-bright chariot, reigns wrapped around his arms as he yanks them forward.

“Is that why she drags him away sometimes?” Nico asks. “To train?”

“Something like that. Most of his training was with —” she falters. “Well, you know who. Medicine and some archery.”

They’re both quiet for a while. Neither of them ever knew Lee or Michael well, if at all, but over time Nico has found himself almost clamming up at the mere thought of them, the way one might tiptoe around an authority figure when they have something to hide. Forbidden subjects, where before Nico simply didn’t think of them often.

“You can’t just not train, though,” Lou Ellen murmurs, eyes trained on the chariots. Hephaestus throws one of their spears, lodging it in the spokes of the Aphrodite-Iris chariot. They come to a very abrupt and very screechy halt, knocking them out of the race in any real capacity. “Not at Camp Half-Blood. She taught him hand-to-hand because she was the only one strong enough to physically drag him to the arena. Everyone else gave up after the first few tantrums — I think she was kind of amused by the challenge. Or something.”

“Or something,” Nico agrees. Privately, he thinks that there is something about Will Solace that makes you want to protect him. Not frailty — he is not by any means incapable — but something about his smile, his genuineness. The stubborn belief that people are good and kind and worthy of everything he has to give. A naivety, except someone who’s been through what he has (what they all have) cannot be naive — his hope in the world is hard-earned and well-won. It makes people want to protect his hold on it, by any means necessary.

Even, Nico reasons, ornery old fuckers like Clarisse LaRue.

The three remaining chariots start the last leg of the race — Apollo-Ares, barely squeezing out in front; then Hephaestus, quickly gaining; and finally Hermes, lagging slightly but not to be discarded. As they round the bend, Nico watches as Clarisse cuffs Will briefly on the arm, clearly proud. This is the farthest they’ve made in first so far, after two weeks of training. Will, reigns safely transferred back to Clarisse, beams at her — bright enough that Nico can see it from dozens of yards away.

With sudden, calculated speed, the Hephaestus chariot surges forward.

As if coordinated, Nico and Lou Ellen inhale sharply, leaning forward. He sees the scattered few other campers so the same in his peripherals, watching with single minded focus as the chariot levels exactly with Will and Clarisse. Nico eyes the spear nervously — of all weapons, they’re the easiest for Will to dodge, to fight off. More impersonal.

But the sons of the smartest god around would know that.

For at least a hundred feet, nothing happens. Ares-Apollo and Hephaestus stay neck in neck, every urge forward matched, every pesky road-blocking stone avoided. The finish line is dangerously close, but no one pulls ahead, nothing changes. Four shoulders remain tense, four helmets stare resolutely forward.

Then, in a quick movement, the taller Hephaestus charioteer hands the spear off to the shorter, swiftly taking the reigns, and the shorter lunges — aiming right for Will’s shoulder. Will’s quick, though, and has his own spear poised to parry in an instant. There’s a barely perceptible nudge from Clarisse, and then Will’s eyes harden, and he lifts his spear to jab right back, needle-thin tip gleaming in the late afternoon sun, right for the chink in the charioteer’s armour and then —

The charioteer rips their helmet off, dropping it at their feet.

It’s Harley.

Hephaestus’ darling; hell, the camp’s darling. One of their youngest and brightest, with big, mischievous brown eyes, contagious smiles, endless enthusiasm. Cute, clumsy Harley, the only one of Hephaestus’ children Will doesn’t have to nag to get treated, who walks dutifully over the infirmary every time he gets so much as a second-degree burn and treats each one of Will’s overcautious instructions with utmost seriousness. Who Will sends away each time with an affectionate kiss on the forehead and a prized purple sucker — who Will, frankly, favours. Who Will would never, in a million years, even consider hurting.

A dirty trick by the Hephaestus cabin.

But an effective one.

Immediately, Will flinches back, spear dropping from his hand and splintering under thundering hooves and spinning wheels. Without a second of hesitation, Harley launches his spear in the same move as before — sticking it in the wheel’s spokes, inertia sending the charioteer’s sprawling, knocking them out of the race.

Except, maybe it’s different when the chariots are so close. Or maybe the chariot was faulty to begin with. Because as soon as the spear gets wedged, the fragile floor of the chariot seems to implode — sending Will and Clarisse under the still-moving machine, instead of flying over. The horses, disoriented from the sudden change, rip free of their harness, adding more force to the already precarious tumble.

There’s a sharp, sickening crack, so loud Nico can hear it as if it’s next to him. In the brief nanosecond immediately afterwords, he closes his eyes, sending a prayer to his father: please be the axle. Please be the axle. Please be the axle.

As the Hephaestus and Hermes chariots rocket past the finish line, Clarisse lets out a shrill, blood-curdling scream.

———

Nico’s off the bench and halfway towards the crashed chariot before he can blink. He’s not the only one — he processes, barely, everyone else’s quick convergence, including the remaining charioteers — but he’s there first, diving into the wreckage seconds before anyone else is close enough.

There’s not a lot of actual debris, chariots being as small as they are, but the dust cloud from the track is so huge and the pieces of wood are so splintered that it feels like there is. As the dust settles, and he kicks some debris out of the way, he starts to see the shape of Will, kneeling, in front of a prone Clarisse and an ever-growing pool of blood.

There’s a bone sticking straight out of her thigh.

As the rest of the campers converge upon them, Will looks up and meets Nico’s eyes. His own blue eyes are dark, steely — determined, but afraid.

“I don’t have time,” is the only thing out of his mouth before he braces both hands on Clarisse’s leg, immediately starting to sing urgent hymns.

Nico understands.

“Lou, Julia, Chiara,” he barks, taking charge in absence of Will’s voice. The three girls snap forward to him immediately. “Sprint the the infirmary and tell them what happened. Austin’s on duty — make sure he doesn’t come with you, we need him to prep a surgical suite. Send everyone else and send them fast. Bring a stretcher.”

He turns to the Hephaestus kids. “Jake, Harley, start clearing the debris to make space. Damien, join them; move the big stuff first, small stuff is secondary. We need a space for Will to work and a space to lay the stretcher. Jen, Butch, Lacy —”

He barks off a list of orders, doing his best to channel the commands he’s watched Will give dozens and dozens of times. In minutes, he has the track cleared, Will’s medical bag dragged over from the stands, and everyone who is not helping stabilize out to the infirmary to help as needed.

As soon as there’s an opening, he rushes over to Will and Clarisse, kneeling by her head.

“Help is coming,” he promises, watching the glow dim and flicker in time with the rhythm of Will’s chanting. The bleeding has slowed, marginally, but he can tell from the volume of blood alone that this was an arterial hit. It’s going to take more than Will’s raw healing power, although there is a lot of it, to keep Clarisse alive and keep her leg functioning in recovery. He needs tools, he needs nectar and ambrosia; he needs the surgery suite. He needs time.

“Is it helpful for me to knock her out?”

Clarisse, of course, is still conscious. Barely — and in so much pain Nico will be surprised if she’s processing anything at all — but enough that every few seconds she lets out an agonised shout of pain, writhing and flinching so hard Will has to focus on steadying her as much as healing her.

Without breaking his song, eyes still trained on the injury, Will nods. Nico breathes, squaring his shoulders, then shuffled forward to rest Clarisse’s head gently in his lap, fingers pressed to her temples. He presses, hard enough to feel the beat of her heart — weak — through his fingertips, and squeezes his eyes shut.

He’s no son of Hypnos, but dreams are the Underworld’s domain. Are his domain, as heir and prince of the Underworld, in every way that matters, that can be counted.

He lets himself sink into careful limbo; body in physical space, mind and soul elsewhere. Not too much — he’s no use if he falls unconscious — but enough to slip into Clarisse’s mindscape, step into her subconscious.

The whole place bleeds white, hot anguish.

Nico stumbles when he first walks in, nauseous despite being nothing but his own mind. It’s been a while since he’s experienced this kind of pain, his own or not, and he has to consciously beat back memories of brimstone and rot; liquid fire, endless red, red, red.

“Clarisse?” he calls, softly as he dares.

She doesn’t respond. He’s not sure she knows how to respond, even if she could. Cautious of the memory and emotion swirling around him, he steps forward. If he focuses, her anguish is pointed — is central. She will be at the centre of it.

He has volunteered, but he’s not sure he wants to follow.

Steeling himself, he shoulders through swirling masses of pain, of hurt, of fear. It’s blisteringly hot, and feels not unlike the sandstorm he was once stranded within, in the middle of the New Mexico desert four years ago. His face prickles; he’s blinded.

He trudges forward.

“Clarisse? Clarisse! Can you hear me? It’s Nico!”

Desperately and uselessly, he wishes he had more practice. Will has offered, the few times he’s needed to anaesthetize someone, but for the most time Nico has foolishly declined. Why on Earth he would pass up a much easier mindscape to navigate through in preparation for something like this is a mystery to him. Fuck.

“Clarisse! Try to — focus on me, can you hear me?”

He forces himself forward, a few more — well, there’s no distance in a mindscape, nothing measurable, anyway. He forces himself to look up, braving the assault to his face, and try to scan his surroundings. The swirling mass is more centralized, now, almost hurricane-like and conal. He’s closer than he was before, but if he can only find…

He looks up, and almost cries in relief: weak against the roaring storm, but still present, is a flickering, golden light. A very familiar light. Nico squeezes his eyes shut, thrusting out his own energy in an uncoordinated mass — boy, is that going to be uncomfortable to extract later — and flails wildly until he finally feels the warmth of Will’s energy entangling with his own, grounding him. He opens his eyes, and suddenly everything is clearer.

Clarisse kneels in the centre of her mindscape, hands pressed tightly to her ears, eyes screwed shut, mouth open in a silent scream.

“Hey,” Nico murmurs, kneeling in front of her. It takes a few seconds, and a few moments of gentle coaxing, before she looks up.

“It hurts,” she croaks.

She’s more vulnerable than he’s ever seen her — eyes brown and big and wet, pained, face twisted and chin trembling and achingly, unbelievably young. She is nineteen years old, but in that moment she appears almost childlike. The years of warrior’s hardness has abandoned her; she is armourless.

Nico swallows the lump in his throat. “I know.”

“Help me. Please.”

“Come here, Clarisse.” He reaches out and wraps a gentle hand around hers, tugging her close. The knee jerk discomfort at close contact is barely a flicker — he is so entwined in her right now that her fear has started to bleed into his; her rawness. He needs this comfort almost as much as she does. Right now she is a person, in agony, and so is he, and it is unbearable.

He holds her until the pain slowly stops.

———

Will is in the surgical suite for seven straight hours.

“Bed,” Nico says softly, rising up to meet him as he exits. It says something about how exhausted he is that he doesn’t even protest, letting Nico place a hand on the small of his back and guide him past the on-call room, past the patient cots, past the Big House living room couches, past Cabin 7. He leads him across the common and right into Cabin 13, with its double beds and blackout curtains, with its insulated, soundproof walls. With Nico.

He helps him out of his bloodstained scrubs, peeling them off his skin and tossing them directly into a trash can. He’d guide him to the shower, usually, but there’s a — glassiness, to his eyes, that there usually isn’t after surgery. Nico chooses instead to skip it, guiding him into the sweatpants he left behind the last time he was here and an oversized The Doors t-shirt of Nico’s, and then to the spare bed he always uses, across from Nico’s. He peels the covers back for him like he’s a child, tucking him in, brushing the hair out of his eyes. He’s asleep in minutes, curled tightly around a pillow, furrowed crease not leaving the space between his eyebrows, even in sleep. Nico smooths it away with his thumb.

“Goodnight, Will,” he murmurs, brushing the backs of his knuckles across his forehead.

He watches him sleep far past what is normal, and then slips back out of the cabin.

———

“On the bright side,” Will says, squeezing the hand that has left to leave Clarisse’s arm, “you’re free from your chariot race obligation! As am I!”

Predictably, she only glowers.

“Not a chance, Solace,” she rasps.

Will helpfully gets her a glass of water, fussing over her blankets while she drinks until she bats him away. Chris watches the whole thing with great amusement, shoulders brushing Nico’s.

“He’s a mother hen, isn’t he,” he comments, tilting his head in Will’s direction, who narrowly avoids having his fingers bitten off trying to feed her a square of ambrosia.

Nico snorts. “Yeah.” He watches the fussing for a few more seconds, making note of Will’s shaking hands, his shakier smile. “He’s guilty.”

“He didn’t do anything. She doesn’t blame him.”

Nico meets his dark look, mouth twisted in understanding. They both know this logic is futile.

“Yeah, well, someone tell him that.”

“Will — stop it.” In a startlingly quick move for someone on as much morphine as she is, Clarisse darts out and clutches Will’s fluttering hands. He hesitates, wondering if it’s worth it to pull out of her hold and possibly jostle her leg. “I’m fine. And you’re still charioting.”

“You’re not fine,” Will frowns, conveniently ignoring the part of the sentence he doesn’t want to deal with. “Your femur snapped in half and tore through your femoral artery on its way out of your leg. You’re going to be on bedrest for a week at least, and it’ll be tender for a good long while besides. That’s what we in the medical business call a Big Fucking Deal.”

She tightens her hold, staring at him until he finally meets her eyes.

“Will.” She narrows her eyes. “You are still participating in the chariot race. I’m not asking.”

“It’ll have to wait until you’re better,” he says lightly. “Besides, we’re focusing on you right now.”

Nico can see in her face when she decides to switch strategies.

“Okay,” she says, stubborn glean in her eye, “then I’m asking you, as a personal request, to stay in the race. Or else I’ll drag myself onto a goddamn horse myself, killing myself in the process, and that will be on your head.”

The tactic works.

Will scowls. “You can’t tell me what to do.”

Clarisse doesn’t bother repeating herself, letting go of his wrists and readjusting her blankets.

“I am done talking now. I believe it’s time for morphine-induced unconsciousness. Please remember that I took down a drakon with my own bare hands; it is well within my abilities to drag myself out of heroin-haze and onto a chariot with no legs, let alone one. Good talk.”

As soon as the words are out of her mouth, she leans back on her pillows and passes out. Genuinely, actually passes out — not closes her eyes, not behind to fall asleep; she is unconscious. Snores ring through the air.

“Well,” Chris says carefully, unfolding his arms. “It might be time to let Clarisse rest for a while.”

Will, healer that he is, cannot exactly argue with that. Will, drama queen that he is, decides to make his fury known by stomping out of the room, a feat in flip-flips possible by him alone.

“She is so infuriating!” he shouts the second they’re in the main room, startling several people. He either doesn’t notice or doesn’t care. “I put effort in! I failed! She can’t even — it’s not even about spending time together, obviously, since I still have to do it! What does she want from me?!”

Chris, like Nico, has wisely decided to let the hypothetical questions remain hypothetical and stay silent, lest his fury be turned onto them. Ten minutes into Will’s rant, Chris excuses himself to go sit by Clarisse. Nico waves him off.

“Will,” Nico suggests the next time he takes a breath, “let’s maybe go for a walk.” He glances at the group of wide-eyed patients. “I think you’re scaring people.”

Deflating, Will nods, following Nico out the door. “Yeah. Yeah, let’s go for a walk.”

The fresh air probably doesn’t fix things, per se, but as they lap around the cabins, Will seems to droop further and further, curling in on himself. The anger recedes from his features.

“I feel really shitty,” he admits softly. “Just, like, generally.”

Nico softens like a goddamn slab of ice cream on hot pavement. For the second time in three days, he opens his arms in offering, although this time it’s significantly less difficult.

“Come here.”

Without even a beat of hesitation, Will collapses into him, arms around his waist, head tucked under his chin. Nico fights the urge to wince — Will, usually, takes quite a bit of pride in his height. He likes to be the one to wrap around people, not the other way around. Nico has been indoctrinated into Will-affection, in the time since the Giant War, and if Will is the one curling into him, seeking comfort, than he is struggling.

Nico hates it when Will struggles. He always feels out of his depth.

“There, there,” he hedges, feeling a good bit like an NPC. “It’ll be okay.”

Will makes a small, wounded noise. “You don’t know that.”

“Um, yes I do, I know everything forever. I’ve never been wrong even one time in my life.”

His awkward attempt at lightening the mood is rewarded by Will’s laugh. It’s slight, and nowhere near the brightness it usually is, but it’s there and it’s genuine and that’s all Nico wanted, really.

“You good?” Nico asks softly, squeezing his arms.

Will nods. “Yes.” He hesitates. “Can I stay here a little longer?”

Nico wraps his arms impossibly tighter, aching at the quiet vulnerability in his voice.

“As long as you need.”

———

The last practice before the chariot race is nowhere near as fun to watch as the others. In fact, it’s not fun at all.

Clarisse, casted and upright, appoints her brother Sherman to race in her place, much to both his and Will’s very vocal complaints. Will’s, because he still doesn’t want to race at all and especially not now that Clarisse is out of the running, and Sherman’s because, well, when isn’t Sherman complaining about having to breathe the same air as someone or whatever.

Clarisse silences both of them with a glare. “Do it,” she orders.

They comply, stomping over to their practice chariot.

The practice race is awful. Nico is surprised, frankly, that they managed to finish at all, as badly behind as they managed. He could practically hear their squabbling all the way from the stands. For as much as Will is generally easy to get along with, he’s impossible when he’s stubborn, and worse when he’s petulant. He takes every command from Sherman like it’s a personal offence, and Sherman, being who he is, does too. Every shout to veer right or deflect an attack somehow sounds like a jab at Will’s speed, or a remark about his general intelligence. When they stomp off the track, helmets thrown in a heap with the rickety chariot, Nico is almost relieved.

“We’re going to lose, tomorrow, and I can’t wait,” hisses Will darkly, fists curled at his sides.

Nico watches him warily. “You’re not even going to try?”

“What, so he can remind me that even when I’m trying I’m a useless idiot? Not a chance.”

Nico has to almost jog to keep up with him, striding as powerfully as he is. He’s not even sure where he’s going — he seems to be, mostly, going away from the track and from Sherman, wherever that may be.

“You’re not a useless idiot,” Nico offers, when some of the stormcloud has lessened its hold on Will’s usually sunny face. “Nobody thinks you’re a useless idiot.”

Will closes his eyes, sighing. “I know.”

“And Sherman is just a generally grouchy person.”

“I know.”

“It feels very, very weird to be the optimistic and comforting one, right now.”

Will snorts, finally meeting his eyes. “I know.” He flops onto the ground, cheek resting in his knees, and pats the space next to him. Nico sits much more delicately. “I’m sorry I’ve been such an asshole lately.”

“You’ve been stressed,” Nico points out. “A little assholery is warranted.”

“I’m still sorry.”

Nico knocks their shoulders together. “I forgive you, then.”

Will smiles. “Thank you.”

For a while they sit in comfortable silence, watching the hustle and bustle of camp. Will’s presence is a comforting one, even though Nico can feel the turmoil leeching off of him. Strangely because of that, actually — sometimes Nico feels like he’s the only one who struggles out of the two of them. Will spends so much of his time smiling and joking and lecturing, hands on his hips, that Nico had almost forgotten that he doesn’t know what the hell he’s doing, either. He’s just good at faking it.

“I’ll be watching, tomorrow.” He bites his lip. “And I won’t, like, bring pom-poms, or anything, but I’ll be cheering you on.”

Will grins tiredly. “Silently and in your head?”

“Uh-huh.”

His smile softens considerably, melting into something almost shy, before he turns back to face forward.

“Well, then, damn. I guess I’ll have to try.”

———

On the morning of the chariot race, Will acts like Nico is escorting him to his goddamn execution.

“It is a race that will last a maximum of twenty minutes,” Nico says with no small amount of exasperation, “including prep time.”

Will looks no less grim. “A twenty minutes that will never be returned to me.”

Nico rolls his eyes and decides to stop humouring him.

He drops him off at his chariot with a quick pat on the shoulder, jogging back to the stands. They’re full, today, as expected, with every camper and countless others cramped into the minimal space. Nico looks at the shoulder-to-shoulder crowd, and is about to consider breaking his promise and fleeing back to his cabin before he sees a doodled-on hand stick in the air, waving wildly. He exhales in relief and heads over to sit in the spot Kayla and Austin have cleared between them.

“How miserable is he?” Kayla asks brightly, tapping her purple shoes. “He left before we woke up this morning. Assumedly to sprint around camp a few times like a feral cat.”

“Pretty miserable,” Nico answers. He reaches over to pat Austin’s head when he rests on his shoulder, knowing he’s nervous even if he tries not to show it. “A lot of it is self-induced, though. Like, yeah, Sherman is going to be a dick and it’s going to be stressful, but I feel like, in the grand scheme of things, this is among the least stressful things he’s ever been forced to deal with.”

“There was that one time he had to remove a brain tumour in the middle of the forest,” Austin muses. “I think that was probably pretty stressful for him.”

Nico opens his mouth. He closes it again.

“Demigod life is a nightmare,” he settles on eventually.

“Hear, hear,” both siblings mutter.

They lapse into silence as they turn back to the racetrack, evaluating the turnout.

Competition will be hefty.

Sherman has finally arrived, Ares horses in tow. The garish things look almost wrong next to the brightness off the flying Apollo chariot, but that may just be the tension between the team’s charioteers that’s so potent it seems to warp the air around them. Nico is vaguely surprised that they’re managing to stand so civilly next to each other, even if they could not be more visibly uncomfortable. Will, at least, tries for a smile, which drops immediately when Sherman mutters something too quiet to be picked up this far.

Nico sighs. This is going to be hard to watch.

There are about twenty other chariots lines up. Hermes, Hephaestus, and Aphrodite-Iris, like at practice, but Athena is competing too, as well as Nike, as per usual, and Tyche. In fact Nico, and by extension Hades, is one of the few cabins not participating — everyone else seems primed and ready for a chance of laurels and extra dessert. And, of course, settling personal rivalries via bloodshed, et cetera, et cetera.

The biggest competition, if Nico had to quantify it, will be Hephaestus, tricky as they were during practice; Athena, for obvious reasons; and Will and Sherman themselves will be their own worst enemy. He can’t tell if it would be better for them to fail out early to avoid racketing tension up further, or last close to the end to keep things at a healthy simmer.

In the end, it doesn’t matter. The second warning whistle goes off, and the chariots rush to the starting line — Will and Sherman at third position, Demeter to their left, Dionysus-Hypnos to their right. The stands go silent, the charioteers get in position, and with a sharp, shrill whistle, they’re off.

The first few seconds, as always, are chaotic.

In the ground with the settling dust are three separate chariots, including, surprisingly, Hermes, whose rigging backfired and sent their entire chariot up in smoke. They are luckily unharmed due to their unusually well-prepared fireproof armour, but neither Julia nor Connor seem too pleased about being out so soon.

The rest of the race continues on without them. Athena has a decent stretch of first place, but Nike is following fast. Behind them, barely a hair’s breadth of distance, is Will and Sherman, rocketing forward smoothly. Unlike Clarisse, Sherman does not care for giving Will any learning opportunities — despite the horses being Ares’, Will is on the reigns. Sherman is armed with his sword and his spear, slashing and jabbing at anyone who gets too close. Neither Ares or Apollo is big on tricks, not like some of the craftier cabins, but together they’re fast and strong and make a formidable opponent.

Or, well, they would. If they were working together, rather than two people simply being in the same chariot.

They cross into the second lap, Will guiding them across the innermost ring to move them up past Nike. They’re gaining on Athena, now, but that won’t be an easy task — challenging the camp’s wisest never is.

Kayla hisses through her teeth. “Shit.” She purses her lip at the trailing Nike chariot — they’re gaining, and they’re seething. Damien — at least Nico thinks it’s Damien, it’s hard to tell with the helmets — has an arsenal of throwing knives poised in his left hand, and as his teammate steers them steady, he takes aim. Nico has to resist the urge to shout a warning.

As the short knife sails towards the reigns wrapped around Will’s hands, though, aim ringing true, Will’s spine goes ramrod straight. Almost as if he can feel it. With an eighth of a second to spare, he shifts and jerks his hands out of the way, avoiding the knife and managing, somehow, to stay on track.

With a skill and ferocity that has Nico’s jaw brushing his toes, Will dodges all eight of the knives lobbed in his direction. In one memorable manoeuvre, he rips his left hand from the reigns, holding them in his teeth, and uses it to shove Sherman down behind the wall of the chariot right before a knife would have lodged itself in his uncovered cheek. Out of weapons, he steers their chariot right next to Nike, allowing Sherman to sever their reigns and send them rolling to a sad, victory-less stop.

Without pausing to look behind them, they race on.

Athena’s chariot has a lead, but their chariot is built for stability, not speed. They’ve accounted for every possible sabotage and built accordingly. They have not accounted for, however, stubbornness and sheer force of Will. The Ares-Apollo chariot gains on them, helmets glinting, skeletal horses gaining faster, faster, faster. Both Sherman and Malcom, Nico believes, have their spears drawn, ready, as the space between them gets smaller and smaller, to fight barbarically for first — for honour.

Nico doubts even Rachel, powers of prophecy fully restored, could predict what happens next.

Either too furious to accept a loss or simply deciding to throw the game, one of the Nike charioteers crawls out from their carriage, darting onto the live track. They scan the ground, looking for something. When they stand in the dead centre of the track, body perfectly tense, gripping something glinting in their hand, Nico gets it.

Austin gasps, nails digging into Nico’s arm. “Oh, no.”

Before anyone can say anything, they take aim. They measure once, twice, and then let the knife loose with deadly precision, knife cutting through the air with ease and hurdling with impossible power towards to two finalists chariots.

If the knife hits the Athena chariot, it will slice clean through the axle. Architectural wonder it may be, the chariot cannot withstand Celestial bronze at terminal velocity, and it will give, and the chariot will crumple. In an effort to lesson the chariot’s load, the Athena charioteers have largely forgone armour. Their fall will be painful and disastrous; as deadly as Clarisse’s, if not moreso. A hit to the Ares-Apollo chariot will be similarly as race-ending, but both Will and Sherman are in full armour. It will be bruising, but not deadly. They will lose, but they will survive.

All they need to do to win is shift, just slightly, so that the knife hits the Athena chariot.

Will, like with all the others before it, seems to feel this knife coming. Unlike the others, he glances backwards, looking at the knife, looking back at the Athena chariot. Sherman follows his gaze, and seems to realize what Will has calculated a split second after he does. He shouts something — presumably an order to move, to shift, to sabotage.

Will hesitates.

The knife hits the Ares-Apollo chariot, slicing through the left wheel.

It careens around, unbalanced, dragged into a heap by untethered horses.

The Athena chariot pulls forward to victory, the remaining functioning chariots quickly following.

The Ares-Apollo canon is left broken and humiliated only a few feet from victory, the almost-first-place.

———

As soon as they come off the track, things get messy. Both Will and Sherman are covered in dirt and grime, striped with grease from the broken wheels, bleeding sluggishly from various scraps. Sherman has his non-flailing hand clamped to an oozing wound on the side of his neck, and Will is limping.

“—and I cannot fucking believe you, Solace! All I asked for was effort!”

“Oh, forgive me,” Will says sarcastically, finally close enough to hear. “In the hustle and bustle of being shot at, I made a couple errors.”

“That gonna be your attitude in battle? ‘Oh, sorry, there was a monster chasing me so I lost all focus —’”

“Battles are not usually fought on a chariot going a hundred fucking miles per hour!”

“That’s no excuse! You need to be —”

“What, Sherman, fucking what? What indisputable flaw do I have, oh great one, that needs to be so desperately remedied?”

It’s startling when Will’s composure cracks. When he goes from bitey and sarcastic, eye-rolling from his usual distance, to right in Sherman’s face. It’s eerie to see him at his full height, no slouching, reminding anyone watching that yeah, actually, their laidback medic is six-two, strong, capable, in more ways than what they’re used to.

Sherman, in usual Ares kid fashion, doesn’t even flinch.

“Your reflexes, for starters,” he says coolly. “No matter what you do, Solace, you’re always one second too fucking late.”

A collective gasp ricochets through the gathered campers. The tension rackets up so rapidly that Nico coughs, lungs suddenly constricted. Will rears back so violently Nico is half-convinced Sherman actual punched him.

Sherman, for his part, seems to realise he’s crossed some kind of line. The cold look on his face twists into a scowl, uncomfortable and apologetic at once. “Look, Will, I just mean —”

“You don’t get to say that to me.”

Will’s quiet voice seems to echo through the entirety of the valley, cutting through laboured breathing of charioteers, pegasus neighing, even the crashing of the waves in the distant shore — everything goes silent.

Nico likes to think he knows Will pretty well. He knows what he sounds like when he’s giggly, watching his siblings argue about nothing; when he’s excitable, rambling about his newest obsession; when he can’t choose between amused and stern at whatever dumb thing Nico has gotten himself into. He knows what he sounds like when he’s exhausted, too, overworked and done with everything; when he’s annoyed, when he’s hurt and sad.

But he’s never heard Will sound so dangerous.

“Of all people.” His words are articulated, deliberate. The usual warmth of his eyes is gone. He’s completely still in a way he never is outside of surgery — no shaking in his perpetually trembling hands, no bounce to his curls, none of the constant energy that seems to constantly exude off him. Still, cold. Icy. “You do not get to talk to me about being one second too late.”

Sherman looks stricken. Guilt is written across each of his features, and for a second he steps back — as if afraid.

“Will, I —”

The son of Apollo turns without another word, striding over to the distant tree line and disappearing into the woods. No one chases after him.

No one even moves.

———

Predictably, the silence does not last long.

“You fucking idiot!” Clarisse explodes, the second Will is out of eyesight. She bats Chris’s hand away from her, and he, surprisingly, lets her go easily — his usually understanding face has hardened. She hobbles towards her brother, remarkably quick with her clunky cast, and starts truly tearing into him. “I asked you to do one fucking thing! One!”

Sherman quickly gets defensive under the scrutiny. “Well, you didn’t make it fucking easy! Just because he’s your protege doesn’t mean he’s my fucking problem —”

Nico doesn’t stick around to listen to their argument. He searches around the gathered crowd until he meets Kayla’s eyes, flicking his head towards the woods. She nods frantically. Knowing he’ll make sure they have privacy, he takes off, aiming for the same place Will went, barely slowing down once he enters the forest.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

“Will?” he calls, well aware he’s not going to get an answer. “Where are you?”

While there’s definitely no response from Will, he damn near jumps out of his skin when a dryad melts from her tree, shuffling towards him.

“Blond boy?” she asks, leaning close so he can hear her whisper. “Tall? Crying?”

Nico swallows. Fuck. “Yeah.”

“Headed down southeast, ways past Zeus’ fist.“

“Thank you,” he says, hoping she understands how much he means it.

She nods, then disappears back into her tree.

Following her directions, Nico jogs down beaten paths, heading in the direction that he is vaguely sure is southeast and mostly praying that he’ll find Will eventually. He shouldn’t have that much of a head start, since Nico left maybe five minutes after he did, but who knows. Will’s fast, and sometimes this forest seems bigger than it really is. It’s easy to get lost.

He searches for what feels like hours, and might actually be hours; sky darkening as the sun disappears into the lake. The temperature drops significantly. Nico is hoping that he won’t be spending the night sleeping in the dirt when he hears sniffling.

Heart pounding, he freezes, focusing on the sound. It’s muffled, sobs choked-off and sound hidden behind cupped hands. The echo sounds strange, too; it’s close, that much is obvious, but Nico almost can’t tell if it’s coming from the left or the right. Truthfully, it doesn’t sound like either.

On impulse, he looks up. Almost invisible in the branches of a large oak tree is Will, stained clothes blending in with the scratchy bark, leaves covering the rest of him.

Except, perhaps fittingly, his bright, golden hair.

Worried that calling out to him might startle him right off the tree, Nico begins to climb. He’s not great at climbing — he doesn’t have a natural sense of what is and isn’t a good foothold — but oak trees are easy. Every half-step has a branch, and this tree is old enough that the branches are thick, sturdy. He’s twenty feet up before he even realizes, barely breaking a sweat.

He pauses a few feet shy of his target, straightening until he’s standing on an almost flat branch, arm looped tightly around the trunk.

“Will.”

Will startles. He looks around frantically, struggling in the dark, until his bloodshot eyes finally land on Nico. He bursts into more tears, shoulders shaking as he sobs.

Alarmed, Nico crawls all the way up.

“Woah, Will, breathe, vita, breathe —”

He’s not sure what tree-sobbing etiquette is, but regular sobbing etiquette often involves some kind of comforting physical touch, so he goes with that. And Will, he knows, likes to be crowded, likes to be almost suffocated with the sights and touch and smells of other people, to remind him he’s not alone, even if he feels it. So Nico scoots as closely as he dares, legs wrapped around the branch, and slides one arm around Will’s back, one against his chest, and tugs him closely.

Will comes easily.

With a bit of manoeuvring, he’s tucked under Nico’s chin, shoulders hunched and shaking, enveloped entirely in Nico’s arms. He can feel a wet spot growing on his left sleeve, and honestly he should be at least a little bit disgusted, but he barely even notices. He’s too busy fighting the lump in his own throat, blinking back his own tears.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to Will’s curls. “Let it out, Will. You’re allowed.”

Will wails, a deep, choking, broken sound, and Nico loses the battle with his own tears. He’s never heard Will like this. He’s never heard anyone like this, except himself, in the echo of this same forest, years ago. It hurts like biting ice.

“It hurts, they’re gone, they’re gone, and I hate them, I hate them so much —” he heaves, dragging in breath like it cost him to say it, like part of his soul was dragged out of his vocal chords — “and I hate myself for hating them, I hate, they’re gone, I’m never —”

He dissolves into sobs, again, words breaking into nothing understandable, crying around the same repetitions over and over again. Nico hides his crumpling face in Will’s hair, wincing at every broken cry, every hitched breath, every moaned word. His heart feels like it’s breaking into a million fractals. He’s never felt so out of depth in his life.

“Let it out,” he whispers again, for a lack of anything else to say. “Let it out, sweetheart, let it out.”

For a long time, Nico had no one to hold him.

When he lost Bianca, he was by himself. And when he thought he had someone to guide him, someone to fix him, he was wrong — he was vulnerable and easy to manipulate. He had no one to hold him until he was too bitter and too closed off to let himself fall apart, anyway, and losing Bianca stayed somewhere rotten inside him, a bruise that never, ever stopped aching.

Until Will.

Last December he had cracked like an egg. He hadn’t meant to — it wasn’t even in the back of his mind — but he’d opened the door to Will’s smiling face on the morning, cold and sad as it was, and just started bawling. Some part of him, some deep, buried part, stomped it’s way from the prison Nico had kept it in and took the hell over, yanking open the floodgates, forcing him to expel every last drop of shadowy, strangling pain that had stayed inside him so long. He thought he was going to die. His entire body shook and jerked like a rowboat in a deep ocean storm, and it had been Will’s lighthouse, his endless, light eyes, his warm hands, his firm hold that had held him steady until he’d dragged himself out to the other side. It was and is the most painful thing he’d ever done in his life. And the most important.

He doesn’t think Will has had anyone to hold him, before, either. Not ‘til right this moment. Not Chiron, not his mother, and certainly not an older sibling. Will has been running on empty for as long as Nico has known him. Longer.

“Let it out,” Nico whispers again, and holds him tighter.

———

By the time either of them move again, it’s pale, early morning, and they’re damp from the dew and Will’s tears. Nico is as stiff as the tree he’s sitting on, but doesn’t dare say a word about it.

“I don’t want to go back,” Will croaks, the first either of them have spoken in hours.

Nico tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, resting a gentle hand on his cheek. “Okay.”

“We can’t stay here forever.”

“We can stay a while.” Nico pulls away slightly, just enough so that he can cradle Will’s face in both hands, tilting his chin up to meet his gaze. “I mean it, Will. As long as you need.”

“What if I’ll never have enough time?”

“Then I’ll stay with you until time runs out.” He presses a tentative, careful kiss to the centre of his freckled forehead; staying when Will shudders, leaning into it. Against his skin, he murmurs, “But you’ll have enough time, vita. You’re the strongest person I know.”

“I don’t want to be strong.”

“So don’t, I gotcha.” He presses another kiss slightly above the first, and another, resting again at the crown of his head. “But you can be.”

They stay like that until Nico’s face starts to go numb, and even then he doesn’t go far, shifting so his cheek lays on the top of Will’s skull. He ignores the slight tickle of his curls against his nose, focusing instead on the brand of his hands on his waist, the shakey but constant inhales, holds, exhales, again, again, again.

“Clarisse is my friend,” Will starts. “She was as important to me as — as Cass, before the war.”

Nico hums. “But she betrayed you.”

“All of us.”

“And you resent her for it, a little.”

Will nods. “It’s disgusting.”

“It’s human, Will, Christ.” He moves them around so they’re both sitting facing each other, Nico’s eyes firmly meeting Will’s. “I will never fully forgive Percy for letting Bianca die. Never. It’s not fair to him, and I love him anyway, and I am choosing to move past it. But I will carry that burden. Am I disgusting for that?”

Will glances away. “No.”

“Will, you — look at me.”

He does.

“Clarisse actively chose her pride over her people. So did the rest of her cabin. She’s not fully responsible for that choice, and the blame, as always, lands on Kronos’ shoulders, but —” Nico laughs, a bitter, defeated sound. “Out of all of us, you lost the most. No one lost as many as Apollo. No one burned as many shrouds. You’re allowed to be hurt, allowed to be angry.”

“I forgave them,” Will admits. “I did it publicly and called off the stupid rivalry right after the war. It was the first thing I did as head counsellor.”

“Trying to do what Michael would have done?”

“Are you kidding me, he —” Will scoffs, swiping at the tears trickling down the corners of his eyes. “If Michael were alive, and he found out I forgave them after what happened to Lee, too Diana — he would have been furious. He would stop speaking to me. If I was trying to be like Michael, I might’ve refused them treatment.”

Nico tries to imagine that for a second — Will refusing anyone treatment. It makes something sour uncurl in his stomach, something unsettling.

“You would never refuse someone treatment. I didn’t even — I didn’t think you guys were allowed.”

Will shrugs. “There are no rules to our practice. I just never made refusal an option, and the kids are too young to know any different.”

‘The kids’ — as if Kayla and Austin aren’t as old or older than Will was when he was in charge, when he held the bashed pieces of his brother’s brain as it oozed out of his skull. As he sat, exhausted, hands shaking, next to Nico, and embroidered twelve shrouds. As if Yan and Gracie are his, rather than Apollo’s.

“You forgave them so your siblings wouldn’t grow up bitter,” Nico realises. “Oh, gods, Will.”

He shrugs again, picking at his nails. “For me too. Grudges aren’t healthy.” He tries for a teasing smile. “You’d know.”

“I would.” Nico tries to smile back. It’s easier than he thought it would be, although it fades back into something serious quickly. He reaches out, linking his hands with Will’s to stop him picking before he bleeds. “You can be selfish sometimes, you know.”

“Not in front of anyone.”

“You’re admitting it in front of me,” Nico points out.

Will hesitates. “That’s — different.”

“How?”

“You get it.” He looks down, voice quiet. “You get me. I can —” He meets Nico’s eyes again, a kind of helpless smile on his face. “I dunno. You’re safe. You’re okay with me, even when I’m ugly.”

“Even then,” Nico echoes quietly. He reaches up and tucks a strand of hair behind Will’s ear again, even though none were loose. His fingertips linger, and the skin under his touch warms. “Especially then.”

“You can, too, you know, I lo —”

“I know.”

Will exhales in relief. “Good.”

He slumps forward until his forehead rests on the swell of Nico’s shoulder, breaths warming the air between them. Nico tries to match his rhythm — in, out, in, out. Hold. Out, in.

“Can we — hide here, for a little bit? Just a little longer.”

“Of course,” Nico murmurs, squeezing his wrists. “I’ll hide you as long as you need.”

[b1rds3ye]

hi !! ^_^

SO I SAW UR MASKED READER STUFF

so like this is gonna be a masked reader thing but

so reader always wears the mask, and like with 141 maybe johnny randomly asks for her to take it off, not expecting anything, and then they takes it off and HEHEHHEE :3

LIKE MODEL KINDA BEAUTY/ATTRACTIVENESS THAT CATCHES HIM OFF hehehhe

idk im like high idk if ur taking requests u can ignore this

HIHI IM SO GLAD PEOPLE ENJOYED MASKED READER CAUSE I GOT SO EXCITED WHEN THE IDEA POPPED INTO MY BRAIN SKDJSKDJS

Personally I don’t want to say “model attractiveness” because it can get a lil alienating for a lot of people but I know for a FACT that regardless of what you look like under the mask Johnny is down horrendously bad.

His curiosity has himself watching you when he thinks you’re not aware of his staring. Every sliver of skin that might have shown when your mask rides up your neck, to how the fabric of your mask hugs your feature. He doesn’t speculate per se, but he observes and anything he notices he drinks up like a man starved. Every contour and edge under your mask is something more about you that he’s falling in love with.

Johnny is inquisitive, he is direct, but he is never disrespectful. He may have joked about how you always wear your mask but he’s never pressured you and has accepted that a mission will probably take him out before he can see your face.

What he didn’t expect was for you to suddenly take off your mask in base, sweltering because some dumbass broke the indoor heating system.

“You can look,” you say idly upon noticing how Johnny sits rigidly beside you. Back straight, eyes forward staring at the details of the far end wall like he was a private once again.

“Y’sure?”

“Positive.”

Johnny dares the slow heavy trip of his head turning to see yours and god damn he needs to track down whoever broke the heating and thank them for this blessed opportunity.

“Steamin’ bloody Jesus…”

Johnny finds himself falling in love all over again. He was not mentally prepared to see you unmasked, his eyes roaming across your features like it was the last time he was going to see you. He took it all in, trying desperately to burn it into his mind. So this is what you were hiding, he had half the mind to accuse you of gate keeping such a sight.

“Keep your mouth open like that and you’re going to catch flies.”

He immediately shuts his mouth but a smile is creeping up instead. Giving you an encouraging nudge of the arm, Johnny does not look away once.

“Yer a real looker, you know.”

“You’re not too bad yourself.”

You reply with a smile of your own and it’s as if the heavens have opened up to him and him alone. He’s glad you don’t seem bothered with him looking at you because he really isn’t going to stop anytime soon.

Masked Reader Masterlist Call of Duty Masterlist

[dwobbitfromtheshire]

I found this in my drafts and had to post. 😆

I can see Eddie trying to get Steve’s attention by using the vacuum trick on his neck and then showing up to Steve’s house to hang out again, to brag about his 'conquest.' He expected a reaction from Steve, but he did not expect him to be so angry that he stormed into the bathroom, slamming it behind him.

"Steve?" Eddie knocked gently on the door. "I didn't think you would get this mad."

Steve opened the door, a furious expression on his face.

"You didn't think that I would be upset that my boyfriend cheated on me?!" Steve exclaimed. "I know we haven't been dating for long, but I kind of thought that it was implied that we both weren't seeing other people. I mean, I told you that I wasn't seeing other people."

"You thought that I was your boyfriend?" Eddie asked.

"You didn't l? Oh, I am an idiot," Steve said.

"No, Steve, you're not! It's me, I'm the dumbass. Oh God, you asking me to the movies that were you asking me on a date! Our first date and I missed it! And you've been wanting to hang out a lot more. You've been holding my hand when you take me on walks. I just thought you didn't want me to get lost! You even told me that you stopped dating, that was you telling me that you weren't seeing anyone else!" Eddie said, running his fingers through his hair. "You gave me flowers!"

"Yeah, I don't know how to be any clearer than that," Steve said. "I just want to know who this person who gave you that hickey is. Were they a good kisser?"

"Wait, why haven't you tried kissing me?" Eddie asked.

"Answer my question first, Eddie," Steve said.

"No, you answer mine!" Eddie exclaimed.

"Fine! I thought we were taking things slow! It was nice," Steve snapped.

"Oh, Steve, I'm sorry. Ugh, I am an idiot. You're going to laugh. There is no one else. I, uh, tried to make you jealous by using the vacuum trick on my neck."

Steve paused, pursed his lips together, and then burst out laughing.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, pretty boy," Eddie scowled.

"I love you, Eddie," Steve said, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

"What?" Eddie asked in alarm. "After what I just told you?"

"Yep, I love you!" Steve grinned.

Eddie smiled, cupping Steve’s face. He rubbed his thumbs across his cheekbones. He took one hand and began tracing the shape of Steve’s face, running a finger gently over his skin. Steve’s eyes fluttered close, and he sighed in contentment.

"What are you doing?" Steve asked softly.

"Soaking in the moment," Eddie said, and leaned his forehead against his. "I love you too."

Steve closed the gap and kissed him. Eddie wrapped his arms around his neck, deepening the kiss. Eddie sighed against his lips. Yeah, he was dreaming. He was definitely dreaming. Steve sighed and broke the kiss.

"So, you know you're my boyfriend now, right?" Steve asked.

"Yes, asshole, I do," Eddie replied.

"Just checking," he told him and went back to kissing him.

"Hey, Steve?"

"Yeah?"

"Do you think, maybe, we can not tell Robin about the vacuum thing?" Eddie asked.

"I'll see what I can do, boyfriend."

"Really?"

"Just a friendly reminder."

[anobsessedchocolatechip]

Okay Christine Daae is THE MOST UNJUSTIFIABLY OVERHATED CHARACTER IN MUSICAL HISTORY. THERE I SAID IT.

This VERY YOUNG WOMAN somewhere from 15-22 lost her father, the only person she ever had, at a young age and found her way of expressing grief through music. a MUCH OLDER MAN (we are not going to deny this fact please) saw her and decided to take advantage of that grief in order for her to fall in love with him (I know he had his reasons but it STILL HAPPENED) and after she found out how the man manipulated her she still understood why he did it, even after he KILLED PEOPLE she saw that he just wanted her love, and even after he threatened to KILL HER AND HER FIANCÉE for EXISTING (“now let it be war upon you both”) she was VERY smart and knew how to break the murderous trance that Erik was in, by showing him the one thing she knew he needed, compassion. She has the unique ability to see good in people when it’s not visible to anyone else, even after it seems like they’re past the point of ever being good again. That’s some LUKE SKYWALKER SHIT. She is literally a HEROINE who does not let anyone’s shit get to her, not raouls dumbass plan, not Erik’s anger. She wants to SING HER SONGS and she WILL, DAMN IT. Yes she’s naive sometimes but what did you want?? Her to be perfect?? Then you’d just call her a Mary Sue. Also she was a GRIEF STRICKEN YOUNG GIRL WITH FAITH IN THE WORLD OF COURSE SHE’D BELIEVE A NICE VOICE TEACHING HER TO SING AND BELIEVE IN HERSELF.

Christine Daae is a SMART, BRAVE, EMPATHETIC, ABSOLUTELY AMAZING CHARACTER AND IF I SEE ONE MORE PERSON BLAMING HER FOR *ANYTHING* THAT HAPPENED TO HER I AM GOING TO EXPLODE.

(Disclaimer: this is not an anti erik or anti raoul post, this is a PRO CHRISTINE DAAE POST) (GOD I LOVE HER)

Edit: Jesus some of you guys saw “this is not an anti Erik post” and said this sign can’t stop me because I can’t read 😇😍

Also if you hate Christine and feel the need to make that clear in the comments it will be deleted because this is a Christine positive blog and I will not allow mean people in my little corner of the internet where I share my little opinion with some cool little people who agree with it ❤️ shout out to all the people out there who disagree but didn’t feel the need to curse me out in the comments, I see you and appreciate you 😌

[bteezxyewriter12]

Play with Me

Pairing- Yoongi x Named Reader

Word count- 3.6k

Includes- Interrupted masterbation, masturbation, brief blow job, pussy eating, cum eating, voyeurism (Boys listen to them through door), missionary, multiple orgasms, fluff

Tag List- @mingtina @jaxminnie @yeosayang @delightfulmoonbanana @tannie13 @y00nzin0 @marsstarxhwa

@borntowalkaway @soulseobi05 @kpop-bambi @seokwoosmole @meowmeowminnie @realisticnotes @effielumiere @svnbangtansworld @pinkies-things @insomniacatiny @marvelfamily3000 @amyz78 @blueie-things

Masterlists- check out for more fics

📝Masterlists 📝BTS Masterlist 📝Yoongi Masterlist

Yoongi POV

“Fuck, yeah”, I moan, sitting in my computer chair

I stare at the picture on my phone, while my hand moves up and down on my cock

The picture is one of the pictures Joanne posted on her Instagram

She’s so fucking hot and beautiful

I’ve wanted her since I first saw her five years ago

She’s BTS’ makeup artist and she became one of our best friends

It doesn’t help that she’s downstairs somewhere

The clothes she’s wearing today, fuck

She doesn’t normally dress that way

I love any kind of clothes she wears

But today…

She’s wearing skin tight skinny jeans and a fucking tight crop top

Her gorgeous stomach is all on display with her tattoos and fucking sexy as hell belly button piercing

Her beautiful cleavage is all out because of the v-neck style of her shirt

Her ass is fucking perfect in those pants

I’d usually be downstairs, just drooling over her but I couldn’t take it

I had a hard on since she walked in two hours ago

I just had to leave and jerk off or I was going to die

It’s not just sex

I really like her a lot too

I mean she’s nice, sweet and hilarious

Fucking gorgeous

She makes me laugh all the time

Her personality is amazing

I fell for her a long time ago

“God fuck Joanne”, I moan as I continue to stroke myself

Fuck, I wish it was her doing it

But I’m too fucking nervous around her

I can’t even talk to her that much before I shut down

I don’t know what I’d do if I had the chance to be with her

No, I take that back

I’d probably fuck it up

“Joanne, baby, I love when you fuck me”, I groan as I get closer to coming

After this, I’m gonna go back downstairs

And probably get hard again

“Joanne, Joanne, Joanne”, I whimper moving my hand faster, my eyes burning though the picture on my phone

“Yoongi?”, I hear a voice by the door.

I stop in horror

No no no

Why didn’t I lock the door?

What the fuck is wrong with me?

“Yoongi?”, she calls again

I don’t want to turn to her

I want to go back to five minutes ago where my dumbass makes sure the door is locked

Slowly I turn to her, terrified to look at her

I manage to look up at her and I’m surprised that I don’t see disgust in her face

I see curiosity and…

Want?

What?

She comes inside my room and locks the door

Uh what?

What’s she doing?

“Were you jerking off to me?”, she smirks

I swallow hard and nod

Jesus, I can’t even talk to her

Pathetic

“Really? Do you do it all the time?”

I nod

Why does she want to know?

“It’s ok Yoongi”

It is?

“I touch myself thinking about you all the time”

My mouth drops open

What?

WHAT?

“Yyy..Yyyy”, I stutter

Fuck, get it together Yoongi

“Yyyyou do?”

“Yeah Yoongi. You’re so fucking sexy, why wouldn’t I think about you?”

I have no words

I’m completely blown away

I don’t know what to say

She walks closer to my bed

“I’ve been wanting to play with myself since I got here and saw you.”

She’s gonna make my head explode

I can’t believe she’s saying these things to me

“I saw you, so you can watch me if you want. I’ll show you what thinking about you does to me. If you want?”

“Yes”, I answer with no hesitation

Watch her touch herself to me?

Hell yes

She smiles and takes her shirt off

Oh my god

Her body is fucking gorgeous

She has more tattoos on her ribs

She’s wearing a red lacy see through bra and it looks amazing on her body

It’s barely holding in her large breasts

She unbuttons and unzips her jeans

She wiggles out of them saying, “Sorry I look stupid but these things are so damn tight”

Is she kidding?

“You dddd..don’t look stupid”, I manage to get out

She’s wearing a matching pantie lacy thing and I get so much harder

“Fuck Yoongi, your cock is so hard”, she says biting her lip, “It’s so fucking big”

Jesus, she’s trying to kill me

She’s still staring at my cock and she licks her lips

Fuck

I just want to throw her on the bed and fuck her hard

But I’m too scared to

She takes her bra off and I know my eyes bug out seeing her breasts

I just want to touch them

And lick them

And suck on them

Then she pulls her panties off

My eyes widen

Her body is perfect

Just perfect

I can’t handle it

“Do you like my clothes I’m wearing today? They were just for you”

“Ttttt.”

God, I have to fucking stop stuttering

How she makes me a stuttering mess is crazy

“They are?”

She nods

Fuck, she was trying to get me riled up- and it worked

“I thought they’d get you to finally notice me”, she says

Finally?

I’ve noticed her since the second she walked into our make up room at BigHit

She crawls to the middle of my bed and lays back on my pillows

I’m so fucking turned on, it’s insane

When she opens her legs, I almost fall off the chair

I don’t know how someone’s pussy can be beautiful but hers is

And she’s so fucking wet

“Thinking of you makes me this wet. All the time”, she murmurs

I let a moan slip out

“Fuck, even your moans are sexy”, she whimpers

I watch her move her hand to her pussy and start touching herself

God, how can I last watching this?

I’m ready to cum right now

When she moans, I fucking lose it

I have to stop myself from taking her right now

She moves her hand down and puts two of her fingers inside her pussy

“Mmmm Yoongi”, she moans

My mouth drops open

I don’t know what to do

Her fingers moved in and out

She brings her other hand to her clit and starts rubbing it in circles

“Yoongi, fuck, Yoongi.”, she cries, her head going back on the pillows, eyes closed

This is fucking amazing

I’m extremely happy that she does this to thoughts of me all the time

“Fuck me Yoongi. I want your tongue on me. Fuck”

Oh god

I want to put my tongue on her too

I’ve been wanting to eat her out for the longest time

“Yoongi, I want you to fuck me with your huge cock. Please Yoongi”, she moans, moving her hands faster

She’s breathing hard, sweating, small moans and noises coming from her mouth

She takes her fingers out of her, still playing with her clit

“Yoongi, Yoongi, Yoongi!”, she yells, back arching off the bed as she cums

I watch her cum run down her and fall on my bed

Jesus, that’s fucking hot

She keeps rubbing herself, yelling my name again, another orgasm taking over her

I can’t take it anymore

I want her

Now

She’s still playing with herself as I stand

I move on the bed, pull her to me by her legs and run my tongue on her pussy

Fuck

She tastes so fucking good

“Yoongi!”, she moans

“God, you taste amazing. I want to eat you out so much. Can I?”, I ask

She nods, “Yes, yes, Yoongi. You can do whatever you want to me”

Yes

She’s saying everything I ever wanted her to say

“But first”, she pushes me back, “You need to be naked too.”

She pulls my shirt off

“Fuck Yoongi, your body is so beautiful. So goddamn sexy.”, she gasps looking at me

I feel myself blush

No one’s ever told me that

I don’t have abs or a body like Jimin or Jungkook

But hearing her say that about me makes me extremely happy

“Take your pants off”

I immediately stand and take them off the rest of the way

Before I can get back on the bed, she's at the edge of the bed and putting her mouth on my cock

“Fuck”, I yell

She puts all of me in her and starts moving her head back and forth

I feel her tongue running all over me as she sucks

Fuck it feels incredible

I’ve never had a blow job like this

It’s never been so…phenomenal

She knows what she’s doing

She moans

She fucking moans while she’s blowing me

She likes it and is making noises like she’s tasting something amazing

That turns me on so much more

That she loves how my cock tastes

I can cum right now but I don’t want to

I want to eat her out, then fuck her so hard

Gently I move her back and off me, pushing her on her back as I kneel on the floor

I pull her legs, bringing her closer to me, putting her legs on my shoulder

I’m so excited to do this I’ve wanted this so much, for so long

My tongue runs up her pussy and I start sucking on her clit

“Yoongi! God!”, she cries

I noticed that she kept playing with her clit the whole time, so I know that’s a place she loves

I let go and lick her clit over and over

Then I move my tongue and lick up her pussy before sucking on her clit again

“Jesus Yoongi, your tongue is better than I ever imagined”

I smirk

I’m happy she’s enjoying it

I’ve never done this before

I usually just fuck the girl and that’s it

But honestly, she tastes so good and I love doing this to her

I glance up and see her watching me suck her clit

I smirk at her without letting her go and she moans

I love hearing her sounds

I use the tip of my tongue and flick her clit over and over

“Yoongi, oh shit, Yoongi”

Her hand slides in my hair

“Pull”, I command

She pulls my hair and it feels so good

I’m so turned on, anything she does to me feels good

From her breathing and moans I know she’s close

Then someone knocks on my door

“Yoongi?”, Hobi calls

I roll my eyes but don’t stop

I want her to cum

I need to taste it

I need to

“Yoongi? What are you doing? Why are you gone so long? And where’s Joanne?”, Namjoon asks

“Go away”, I yell, then lick her again

“Yoongi”, she cries

“What? Why? What are you doing?”, Jimin asks

Jesus are they all outside my room?

“D…Dddon’t…..stop”, she begs

“I won’t”, I answer quickly, then continue

“What are you doing?”, Jungkook yells

“Eating, go away!”, I shout

“Yoongi….Yoongi”, she moans

“Yeah baby, come on. I want it”, I groan

“What are you eating? All the food is downstairs”, Jin asks

“Cum Joanne. I want to taste it.”

“Yoongi fuck yes Yoongi!”, she screams, coming in my mouth

Holy mother of god, she tastes absolutely incredible

“Oh my god he’s eating out Joanne!”, Tae yells

“More Yoongi. More!”, she screams

I nod and continue to use my tongue on her pussy

Good that she wants more because I’m not stopping

“Ssss..she likes it!”, Jimin says

God, they’re so annoying

Can’t they just leave?

I want to yell at them but I don’t want to take my mouth off her

“I love it”, she yells, “Now go away! We’re not cccc…fuck Yoongi yes….coming out for a long time.”

I laugh against her and she shakes a little

“Fuck Yoongi, that feels good”

“They’re not coming out”, Namjoon repeats

She rolls her eyes, “Yoongi and I are going to fuck each other and be very loud. Go away!”

She’s fucking amazing and I laugh again

“Mmmm Yoongi”, she pulls my hair

“Let’s go. I don’t want to hear this.”, Jin says

I hear their footsteps as they walk away

Finally

I close my lips on her clit again

I suck, then let go, then suck again, then let go

“Yes Yoongi. Don’t stop! Don’t!”

I keep doing it, sucking then letting go

After a few more times, she snaps her hips up putting her pussy more in my mouth and screams while she cums

“Mmmmm”, I moan from how good she is

I slide my tongue inside her, licking her

She shakes and cums again, all over my tongue

It turns me on so much

I love how she tastes

She’s actually my new favorite thing to eat

I can do this all day

“Yoongi!”, she cries, “I want your huge cock in me. Give it to me. I want it. I want you”

Fuck, she wants it I’m giving it to her

I love hearing how much she wants me

Just as much as I always wanted her

I really love that she feels the same way

I get up and climb on the bed

She moves back so I have room

I grab her legs and hold them open

I rub her pussy with my cock and tease her, “You want it Jo? You want me inside you?”

“Yes Yoongi. Yes. Don’t you want to be inside me too?”, she asks, looking at me her eyes big and looking innocent - yeah right

“Yeah Jo. I want nothing more than to be inside you.”, I answer

“Then do it Yoongi. I want you so much.”

God I want her so much too

I slide my cock inside her, yelling from how good, how tight she feels

“Oh my God, oh my god!”, I shout

“Yoongi, ahhh, Yoongi”, she yells

“Jesus Jo. You’re so fucking tight and wet. You feel amazing!”, I praise her

She just makes moaning noises I love

I move back and thrust back in

“Fuck!”, I yell

I can cum right now, this second

I don’t know how I’m going to fuck her for long

It just feels so…..goddamn fantastic

No other girl I’ve been with felt like she does

No other girl has been so fucking tight

I love being in her pussy

I move again, faster, pounding into her, forcing myself not to cum yet

Making her scream and yell

“Yoongi, fuck, Yoongi. I love your cock. I love you fucking me”

I groan and keep moving

I can’t stop

I don’t want to

“Shit baby, your pussy was made for me”, I cry as I slam into her again and again

“It’s all yours Yoongi. Whenever you want. It’s yours”, she shouts

Yes, yes, yes

I want it

I want her to be mine, want to be the only one she fucks

I want her to be the only one who fucks me, want to be hers too

“My cock is yours Jo. My tongue is yours. Anytime you want them, you can have them. They’re only for you. No one else”, I blurt out

“Yoongi, god”

I thrust inside her and when I hit her spot, she screams so loudly

I love hearing her

It gets me off

“Harder Yoongi. Fuck me harder”, she yells

I nod and slam harder into her making sure I hit that place again

Another scream

Another slam makes her let out another scream

I thrust again and she screams my name, her pussy clamping on my cock, body shaking as she cums

Holy shit, the pleasure from her coming is unbelievable

The way she’s pulling on me is insane

I want to cum but I want to make her cum more

I love the way it feels

Every thrust keeps hitting her in that spot and within a few seconds she cums again

And it feels like heaven

More slamming causes another orgasm

And another and another

We’re both sweating so much but I don’t care

I’m so lost in her and I don’t want it to end

I pound in again and her back comes off the bed causing her to thrust her hips at the same time as me

She takes all of me so deep inside, I yell loudly

“YOONGI!”, she screams, releasing all over me and I can’t fucking take it anymore

Ecstacy floods my body and I cum so hard, deep inside her

I never came this hard before and it’s never felt so fucking incredible

“Yoongi, Yoongi”, she whispers my name over and over

I love hearing my name coming from her mouth

I want her to hold me just as much as I want to hold her

Just pull her closer to me and stay with her

I lay down next to her and she automatically turns to me, snuggling into me

And my arms automatically go around her and hold her close

I’m trying to breathe normally as thoughts race through my mind

I don’t want her to leave

I don’t want things to go back the way they were

I want her

I want her to smile her gorgeous smile at me, laugh when I say something funny, hug and kiss me all the time, tell me she loves me, hold her hand, just be with me

Fuck

Realization hits me right in my chest

I love her

I always said I didn'twant to love someone, it’d hurt too much when they eventually leave because of my career

I don’t know how or when, but I fell in love with her

Damn it

I know that she thinks I’m hot and sexy and that she wants sex from me

I don’t think she likes me like that at all

Definitely not love

I don’t know what to do

I want her so much, but I’m so scared to say anything

She puts one arm around my body, “Yoongi, I love being with you”, she sighs, “Even just laying here with you is amazing. Don’t let go”

I tighten my grip on her while my mind is screaming at me

’Tell her’

’Don’t let her get away from you’

’She wants you like you want her’

’Ask her to be yours’

’NOW’

“Uh Joanne, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah Yoongi.”, she answers

“Do you uh, wanna, uh….”, I trail off

“Yes”

My eyes shoot down to her and she’s looking up at me, smiling

God her smile is going to kill me one day

“Whatever it is, yes.”

“Uhh…”

She giggles and it’s the cutest thing in the world

“Just ask Yoongi”, she reaches up and strokes the side of my face

I close my eyes against her touch

I love the feeling

Force my eyes open, I ask, “Joanne, do you want to be with me? Like be my girlfriend?”

I’m so scared of her answer

“Yes Yoongi. A million times yes. I thought you’d never ask. I’ve been waiting for you for years.”, she responds

Years?

She’s wanted me for years too?

“Really?”, I ask

“Yeah Yoongi. I fell for you so long ago. You had such a bad boy image when I first met you and honestly in the beginning I just wanted to fuck you. My type of guy is more like Hobi. Hilarious, outgoing, silly.”

Hobi?

She liked Hobi?

She wants someone like Hobi?

“You weren’t like that but there was something about you. And after getting to know you, you’re everything Hobi is and more. You’re everything I could ever want”

I smile at that

“I’ve been waiting for you to notice me. I figured you would never because of all the beautiful idols you’re around all the time. Why would you want me, when you could have them?”

“I don’t want them”, I assure her, “I want you. I only ever wanted you from the first day I saw you. Yeah I just wanted sex first like you, but once I got to know you, I wanted you. And I still do.”

“Good because I want you too.”, she smiles

I smile back at her

“I love your smile Yoongi. It’s one of my favorite things about you. It’s so beautiful.”

My smile is nothing compared to hers

“Joanne…I love you. I love you so much you have no idea. I’m crazy in love with you. It’s always been you”, I blurt

Shit shit shit

I sound like such a pathetic idiot

“I love you too Yoongi. So much. I’m so in love with you, it’s ridiculous. You’re all that’s on my mind, all the time. It’s always been you too Yoongi. Always.”, she admits

I feel my face break into a huge smile as I lean to her lips and kiss her for the first time

Holy fuck

Fucking stars burst in my vision from her kiss

I absolutely love it

She puts her arms around my neck and kisses me back

When the kiss ends, she asks shyly, “Can we take a little nap? Sleeping in your arms has been one of the things I want to do the most with you.”

“I’d want nothing more than to take a nap with you Jo. It’s something I’ve wanted to do too, for a long time.”

She kisses me again and snuggles into me more

“I love you Yoongi”, she says

“I love you Joanne.”

I hold her close to me, her head on my chest, arms around her

I run my fingers through her soft hair, listening to her breath as she falls asleep

“I love you”, I whisper to her

Even though she’s sleeping, her arms squeeze me closer

I kiss her head, then close my eyes and fall asleep

[sukioyakio]

little brainrot

R. Sukuna - thought that dating you;the quiet ghost that lurks throughout the college campus halls,whatever what they called you,he was just thought that this was going to be boring as heck and even wonder why he was doing this.

But he'll sure in hell not going to leave you.You sure knew how to hide your emotions in public but in private he see you with such confidence that made me wonder how are you the same person.

You could be playing Minecraft or any game and you two would argue with each other.

"How Stupid are you,How will we ever progress when your so weak and in need of me all the time." Sukuna voice drips of mockery in the mic,in which he could already see that cute angry frown you do before 'talking' to him.

"mhmm,I don't FUCKing know babe?Just maybe If you STOP being a Rude ass and stealing my iron" You exclaimed loudly with your voice raising a bit with frustration in the mic.

“So making shears with the iron was Best ‘Fucking’ Plan you had” He said with the mockery tone but lanced with sarcasm in.

Asshole has your stuff in a chest but he doesn’t let you that much because he like to fuel you up.

You whisper a curse word with an eye twitch.

“Oh my fucking god! IT WASNT MY FAULT THAT the fucking iron boots next to THE FUCKING SHEARS!!it different on PlayStation Then on PC dumbass!” Your voice spite up in frustration while replying to Sukuna in the mic.Your eyes brow furrowed down and an angry frown laying on your face.As the glow of your tv was your only light in your room.

You could hear his deep rich laughter through the mic finding your frustration funny.

”Oh Because it ‘SO’ hard to play PlayStation with a controller then on Pc,I’m pretty Sure that I’ve played on that shit and it was easy enough Princess” He said in his cocky voice and emphasizing the princess part.

"Well fuck you and your wanna complete the game ass Your Highness" you said with emphasize the Highness part just how sukuna did.

He just love seeing the different emotions play on your face whenever it just you too,but will the man say that nope he'll keep that a secret for him to know.

To be honest he shock at how you return to your quiet persona when you both are in public,Nonetheless the it still the same thing with him.He doesn't enjoy the fact that you don't like to show your relationship with in campus, no matter how many times you said calmly to him saying that you really are shy about it.He doesn't listen and won't either.

For instance,When walking around the halls in search of you,his little ghost.He spot some Low life loser taking to you with love heart in their eyes,and just to see you nod to every word that sip out of their mouth irritated the fuck out of him.

He clearly walked towards you.While he was at he thought he could surprise you while glaring the guy. His right behind you as the guy talks about some boring ass crap,his snakes his hand around your waist in a possessive manner. Completely caughting your attention with a gasp that sip out your mouth.

"Oh there you are ghost,I was Wondering as how you are.I wanted to say how good and incredible you were last night I had so much fun"He said clearly loud enough for the guy to hear and for him to be cut of his words. As finished with a proud smirk.

Sukuna could die laughing at how the man look so pathetically running away like A rat right now but didn't feel the need to,Not when you pushed him.Your face painted with rosey color on your cheeks and ears,and a frown on top of that.

'his feisty ghost'

The only reason why you aren't completely fuming at him is that non one was outside but him and you but still.

"W-what on earth was that for!!" you exclaim in disbelief,staring up at your boyfriend tall frame.Making a shadow that case upon your figure.But you also know how your body suddenly feels wall textured brushing your back.

"You tell me ghostie,I didn't like the guy Dragging his heart out for you when it belongs to me" he says in a low tone and steady pace;slowly his body is right against you pinning against the wall,he lean's closely to your neck,catching how your voice hitches as well as your lose of words.

——

That it,that all I have from my little brainrot and I probably have a lot of grammar mistakes

[obizenyukii]

top 10 obizenyuki moments (+all of the honorable mentions that i almost picked bc these three are too much .) DISCLAIMER: these are my opinions and also i talk a lot. <3

under the cut bc this is so long oh my god

number 10

THIS PANEL OF THEM BEING SO AT PEACE RESTING BY EACH OTHER'S SIDE. OBI DEEP IN CONTEMPLATION AS HE WATCHES OVER SHIRAYUKI AND ZEN. THEM SLEEPING SO SOUNDLY BECAUSE THEY CAN LET DOWN THEIR GUARD AROUND HIM. I'M FINE.

every time i see this panel i just feel so happy. they belong together.

number 9

needless to say you'll miss the young miss, but you'll be lonely without me too, i bet. this entire conversation . obi saying this as a light joke but also because he knows how much they both mean to zen. obi searching, in a way, for a reassurance that he /is/ needed and wanted as well, since it's so obvious that shirayuki would be. zen's response. this is a moment that shirayuki isn't physically in so i bumped it down a few places, but it's still so meaningful for the ot3.

number 8

obi longing for zen and telling his bestie (zen's gf, who he's known for also occasionally longing for) about it casually under the stars (and saying he'll say that to zen under the stars) . i know what you are .

this moment is absolutely iconic and one of my personal favorites <3

number 7

ot3 date <3333 the entire next chapter is just a bunch of cute moments of them (honestly could have had like 300 pics on this post if there wasn't a limit). them spending time together, goofing off, having fun and enjoying each other's company. give me 10 more of these dates please.

number 6

whenever i reach out my hand, you would grasp it?

the most iconic trio of all time you will not change my mind. this moment being an unsaid promise between the three of them to always come back to each other . lay me to rest

number 5

THE FACT THAT YOU'RE NOT DASHING OVER TO HER RIGHT NOW IS ALL THE ANSWER I NEED. THE TRUST. GOD. SHE CAN HANDLE HIM. I'M ON THE GROUND.

this moment is not as talked about (at least i haven't seen much of it discussed) but it's SO important to me. so much is being said without needing to spell it out. obi and zen keeping watch from afar, content in each other's company but also making sure shirayuki is in their sight. this is so romantic to do under the stars . they make me unwell. i need a vacation

number 4

obi and shirayuki always keeping zen in their hearts no matter what, despite him wishing not to weigh on them. this also touching on zen telling obi he wishes the title he gave him won't be a burden to him. the bond they have is highlighted so beautifully here. it's pure love <3 i'm sick to my stomach. /j

(& the bonus of obi and shirayuki seeing zen off together and looking at his retreating figure fondly. this is so romantic . i'm crazy .)

number 3

the iconic whenever i'm with you two it's always like this ;^;; <3 obi's love towards these two started to take root here. you don't understand because it's love dude . you don't understand because you were never attached to someone like this. you never had a home to come back to, never had the acceptance and understanding you have in them. dumbass. (said fondly)

it's okay, he learns it later <3

number 2

zen, furiously questioning obi and shirayuki on their health, making sure they're fine, and finally pulling them into a hug. his relief to have them safe and healthy in his arms. them realizing how worried he was . this is probably the most iconic obznyk moment and is a contender for n1 for sure, it was tough choosing between the n1&n2 moments ;; . god this moment. zen's "that's the most important thing" . don't talk to me i love them

number 1

the iconic line that is also my ship tag, if it's for you and mistress, i'm willing to go anywhere </3 this moment was what solidified the ship for me when i was only an anime only (shudders) slowly getting into the fandom. the anime was enough but this entire chapter had me setting my house on fire (joke). the brainworms never stopped. the entire chapter is so crazy ot3 but this moment is my favorite and overall the message/highlight of obi's resolve & his answer to zen's questions. it also showed more than any other moment obi's love & dedication to shirayuki and zen. shirayuki isn't even in this scene but it's still my favorite ot3 moment in the manga so far <3

and now, some honorable mentions. these following moments were all contenders for top 10 bc obznyk is so good. also these are not all of the obznyk moments in the manga ofc. there are many that i couldn't find in my screenshots and tried to find skimming through the manga but failed lol. these are just some classics/faves.

zen's iconic heart eyes

pretty early on in their relationship development, zen liking seeing them together ;;

zen being so happy around obi and shirayuki ;-;

zen introducing himself as obi and shirayuki's companion <3 it's just spelled out at this point lol

zen's heart eyes pt 100, if this post didn't have a limit i would've posted so many more of these

shirayuki and zen fretting over obi and then spying on him (while obi knows and is having the time of his life stringing them along) because he was seen with a pretty lady

it's like a part of me is always by their side <3 <3 <3 this would've been n10, but it's now the official number 11 moment

shirayuki and zen putting their full trust in obi to the point of fully letting their guard down, and obi realizing that for the first time, he's wholeheartedly wanted.

zen and shirayuki being the obi detection/protection squad <3

there's so much more. i love them so much <333333

[urfavoritedcwhore]

hi lovely! I come bearing a henry winter request

So maybe they are all in Francis’ house (reader and henry are dating) and henry gets one of his headaches and idk reader takes care of him (as he reluctantly lets her)

Im sorry that is all i came up with for now😭 thank you <333

uhm i literally love that idea so yes of course.

just let me help you//henry winter x reader

doing this in the way i wrote my last henry winter fanfic, instead of using “you” I write “i” and so forth. (don’t worry tho cause there will be plenty of “y/n”’s thrown in here:)

warnings: mention of alcohol, mention of migraines, swearing, drinking

(not proof read)

sitting in the hammock Reading my book at the country house is probably my all-time favorite thing to do. the fall air, the sounds of the twins bickering with Bunny as they all play croquet, Francis and Richard out on the boat, and my lovely Henry reading on the porch with a glass of scotch. However, this day is severely different. As my friends and I drive to the lake house, Henry is growing increasingly snappy. Bunny begins to go off on a rant about how “religion is a ploy to get all of the dumbasses who believe in that shit’s money.”. I listen to his rant, shaking my head slightly as the twins let their mouths hang open in disgust. “Bun, it’s not as if you could truly know that. No one knows if there’s a God or not. It’s all based on personal belief," I explain from the front seat. Being a devoted Catholic, it takes all my willpower to not wear the same face of horror that Camilla and Charles hold, but I know that’s precisely what Bunny wants. “Your joking right, y/n?” I watch him in the rearview mirror nudge Richard. “Old man, can you believe the bullshit she’s spewing?" Bunny says in his nasally voice with a chuckle. I see Richard simply shrug and continue to look out the window. “Bunny, please just change the topic; no one likes bickering about religion with you," I say a bit sharper than before as I continue to watch him from the rearview mirror. “Old gals on her period," he says as if it’s a fact. I turn my head to Henry as he drives, my expression angry and my gaze saying, “Your seriously going to let him speak to me like that?”. Henry glances over at me briefly before returning his gaze to the road silently. I let out a small scoff and voiced my thoughts aloud to him. “You’re going to let him speak about me like that?" I asked, irritated. Bunny chuckles behind me, which only angers me further. Henry only takes a deep breath and remains quiet. “Your attack dog is not barking for you, y/n?” Bunny asks amused. “Both of you, shut up," Henry says sharply and suddenly as he continues to face the road. My eyes grow wide, and I scoff in disbelief before looking out the window and shifting my knees towards the door away from him. Bunny remains chuckling in the back seat. I remain quiet for the rest of the drive, my face undeniably red with anger and embarrassment, both from Bunny speaking to me like he did and Henry not defending me. As we pull into the driveway of the country house, I practically swing open the door as soon as the car stops. I slam it shut, just so Henry can know how frustrated I am. Everyone piles out of the car stretching, except for Henry, who swiftly makes his way towards the front door. I follow behind him as he swings it open and walks up the stairs without a word to me, not even bothering to get his bag out of the car before going to his room. I stand at the bottom of the stairs for a moment, watching him in udder disbelief. Everyone piles in behind us, chatting loudly and heading for the kitchen. I walk away from the stairs, following the group to the kitchen. “Asshole," I mutter under my breath as I walk to the cabinets to get a bottle of wine out. “He’s more...irritable than usual," Charles says behind me as I grab the wine bottle and turn around to get a glass. “Yes, maybe he’s upset about us arriving so late," Camilla replies back as she scrunches her face the way Charles is—something that they always do when they’re thinking. I shake my head and nudge Bunny out of the way of the glasses, grabbing one and setting it on the counter. “He’s just in a pissy mood; he has been since this morning," I say, annoyed as I cork the wine and pour some into the glass. Francis looks up from the piece of mail he’s been studying since we walked in. “Did you see him as he got out of the car? He looked as if he was going to pass out," he says, running a hand through his hair. Camilla shrugs, “Perhaps he’s tired," to which Charles immediately nods, “Yes, perhaps he is.”. I scoff slightly and take a sip of my wine. “Tired? My god, I’ve never once seen him tired. He’s just being a supercilious jerk.”.

Richard shakes his head. "He looks ill," he says in an emotionless voice. slightly irritated that no one’s agreeing with me, I turn around and walk out of the kitchen with my wine in my hand. I find myself back in front of the stairs, staring up at them as I sip my wine. I place my foot on the first stair, and before I know it, I'm marching up the rest of them on a mission. I get to the top of the stairs and look down the left hallway, marching to the room Henry always stays in and slamming open the door. “How are you feeling, darling? Hopefully like a real lousy boyfriend," I say sharply as I see him sitting on the end of his bed with his face in his hands. “Out," he says without looking at me, his voice audibly shaking. My face softens slightly as I continue to study him and the state of his room, curtains closed, no lights on, his jacket off, and his tie loosened. I walk towards him slowly, setting my wine in the dresser as I do so. “Hey, what’s wrong?” I ask, placing my hand on his shoulder. He looks up at me; he's sweating and extremely pale. Any ounce of anger I have left in me immediately disappears. As I study his face, my own face drops. How could I have been so stupid? “Migraine," I whisper as he looks up at me. He flinches at my quiet word in pain, “Please, please just leave y/n.”. It absolutely breaks my heart whenever I see him like this. Henry is always so put together and independent, but when he has his migraines He becomes almost small-looking, desperate. I rub his shoulder gently and whisper, “Where’s your medication?” I ask softly. “Car," he says as he flinch’s from the pain of hearing his own word. I immediately turn around and jog out of his room, downstairs, out the front door, and to the car. I grab his bag from the trunk and jog all the way back into the house and up the stairs. When I get back into Henry’s room, I'm panting and trying my hardest to catch my breath quietly. After about ten seconds of standing like an idiot, breathing heavily in front of him, I place the bag on the floor, following it down, and sitting on my knees in front of it. I hear him let out a quiet gasp of pain as he hears me unzip the bag. I riffle through it, trying to be as quiet as possible, until I find the small orange bottle of his pills. I unscrew the lid as I stand back up and pour one out into my hand. I grab my wine off the dresser and walk to him, holding the pill and wine out to him. “Please, darling, I can take care of myself," he says quietly and desperately, his voice betraying his words. I move my hands towards him more as a way to say, “Just take it." He slowly reaches out and takes the small pill from my hand, putting it into his mouth before taking the wine from me and using it to wash down the pill. He still looks ghostly white; his eyes close instantly. I gently take off his glasses and lay him flat on the bed, climbing beside him as I cover his eyes with my hand gently to make the room darker for him. He lets out a soft sigh. “I wish you wouldn’t trouble yourself with this," he whispers. I shake my head as I continue to hold my hand gently over his eyes and lay on him. “I’ll do this all night if I need to," I whisper back, my thumb gently tracing his scar in a soothing manner. “Please, y/n, stop treating me like a child. I can take care of myself," he says unconvincingly. I shake my head again and whisper back, “Just sleep, hen.”. He finally falls asleep about five minutes later as I lay beside him for at least three hours, my hand never leaving his eyes. I watch his chest move up and down, his breathing as he sleeps much more even and natural compared to his breaths when he’s awake. I don’t notice at first when he wakes up. “How long has it been?” he asks in a raspy, mumbling voice. I take my hand off his eyes, and he turns on his side to look at me. “Just a few hours, are you still feeling ill?” I ask, running my fingers through his hair.

“You didn’t have to do that; I’m more than capable of taking care of myself," he replies, wrapping an arm around my waist as we lay on our sides facing each other. I nod. “Just let me take care of you from time to time, okay?” I say, moving my hand out for his hair and placing it under my cheek. He closes his eyes and nods slightly as he pulls me closer to him. “Sorry," he mumbles into my neck. I chuckle softly; he’s acting like a child right now, clingy and sleepy. “It’s okay, just get some more rest," I say back as I put my chin on top of his head. "I love you," he mutters into my neck. I kiss the top of his head gently. "I love you too, Hen.”.

A/N: hope this is what you were looking for:)) thank you for the request, i loved writing this!!

[hexedwinchester]

Early seasons of SPN are superior

so I'm re-watching Supernatural (I'm always re-watching SPN, don't mind me) and I realised why the early seasons are so freakin good whereas the laters ones are a complete mess...

Horror was the core theme of Supernatural (yes, I'm not discarding the brothers' drama, I'll get to it in a minute). These beautiful scare tactics that they employed were amazing: the crib mobile toy rotating, shadows moving out of the corner of the eyes, toys going off, subtle bloody Mary reflections in the mirror, creepy skulls dug from the ground, the ghosts flickering. Hell yea they nailed 'Scary just got sexy' with these.

Don't get me started on the background music. Whimsical music crescendo, building up the anticipation. The rock music blaring through the Impala. What happened to the cool ass music in the later seasons? They just played this weird, sad tune like someone's blowing raspberries to show grief and that's it!

Monster of the week theme and the lores/legends in early seasons were much, much better than S12's Foundry or the later season episode with bizarre tentacle porn thingy (you know which one I'm talking about). It just didn't feel the same. The stories were poorly written and even more poorly executed.

Early seasons used to be purely about Sam and Dean (as it should have been throughout) Them against the world, heaven and hell. No dumbass angel lurking in the background like a pathetic third wheel. No king of hell bitching about his sad childhood for two whole seasons. No Soccer mom half assing their way into hunting.

Foreshadowing was done so beautifully! Everytime I re-watch the early seasons I find a few bits that connects to something that happened initially in say S1-2. The parallels are done beautifully and writing is good, and I mean 'I wanna use this quote as a wallpaper' good.

The struggle for the boys was real. They had to do their own research, save their own asses, stitch their wounds, pop their dislocated shoulders back in the place. Later seasons? Bunker has answer to everything, angel healing wounds with a flash of light, Lucifer bringing Sam back from the dead without asking for anything (and no, taking him to Jack is not a good enough bargain), Jack healing wounds or whatever. Where is the damn struggle?! Where is the hero's journey?!

I miss the beautiful, colourful motel rooms that had its own personality. I HATE the bunker (yes I know a lot of people love it because Dean has a good shower, they have a home etc, etc) but no! Bunker is lame and boring and monotonous. There isn't a single thing I like about it. Gimme back my motel rooms with the sunburst mirror!

Story arc or lack thereof from S12 onwards. The main plot just got duller and duller from S12 onward and it felt like the writers got lazy and stopped putting efforts. There was no build up and the plot felt forced. The main arcs didn't feel exciting enough. BMoL and Kelly's pregnancy: the who and why? Jack: predictable. Other Micheal and Micheal Dean: meh, next! God as the big bad: interesting but I don't think they have it in them to execute this correctly.

Irrelevant/Unnecessary characters and their mini plots. S1-5 focuses purely on the brothers and that's what I'm here. I don't care how and why an idiot angel opened purgatory. It sounded more like a dull spin off plot than main story arc. I don't care about prophets and their lives (yeah Kevin is in Advance Placement, what am I to do with that?). I don't care about the different angel garrisons at war (again a plot for a lame spin off). I don't care about Crowley, his son or his relationship with Rowena. Tell me how this affects the boys. If it doesn't, please let's move on. Whatever was going on with Cole Trenton was pointless. I don't care about Mary and her hunting escapades with BMoL. I don't care about Kelly's pregnancy. The multi-universe and all characters they vomited back in the show with this. Not needed! Let Charlie, Gabriel and Bobby's memory rest in peace. Nick's killer storyline and wayward sisters. Enough said. Empty and the deal with Cas and Meg 2.0? Boring! Billy playing the bad cop, the whole death's library? Poorly executed and it turned into a bowl of cold spaghetti. In the end, the focus moved from the boys to useless characters and mini plots. Fuck that! Supernatural is about Sam and Dean and that's about it.

The direction. Later seasons lack the beauty of scenic shots of the landscape, close on up the boys' faces, the lights hitting their faces to show their beauty. Camera angles and slow panning shots. I miss the beauty that were the early seasons.

[wings-of-fire-confessions]

Okay, imma be real? I think this fandom gets way too upset over characterization differences between books (this'll be a long one just let me explain).

I see a lot of posts in the WOF fandom about how certain characters got ruined in the next books or how their characterizations were completely screwed over. A lot of posts also are like, "Oh, Tui messed up X character in this book so badly!" Or "All their personality has changed in this book, what happened to my favorite character?" and so on like that.

This kind of thing, ESPECIALLY after rereading the series recently, then coming back to the fandom, pisses me off to NO END for a couple of reasons.

1. Tui wasn't "ruining" your favorite characters personality in the next book, because the focus of the next book wasn't the character in question. The spotlight is on another character entirely, and trying to micromanage THAT many personalities to their truest form is INCREDIBLY difficult.

2. Plotting out character personalities is a GRUELING process, coming from someone who does a lot of writing. ESPECIALLY if it's original characters, because then you can't just pull from fandom or canon, you gotta do that shit yourself. And over the course of the canon, their personality is gonna change!

This brings me to my last point and probably the biggest reason:

3. EVERY BOOK IS FROM A DIFFERENT PERSPECTIVE.

This has been a STAPLE of the Wings of Fire books from the VERY BEGINNING. With every new book, we as readers are jumping from one dragon's mental space to the next, learning about their traits and quirks and how they perceive the world around them, every single time we pick up the next book in the series. It's what helps give us those deeper insights into the characters that yall get so angry about when they aren't immediately represented in the next book, when that dragon is no longer our spotlight.

Also, when we are learning about the other dragons before we jump to their perspectives, the character that we are reading about is already making assumptions and assigning traits that they think correlate with the character in question! We are seeing the world through their eyes and thoughts, so when we move to another perspective, that dragon is doing the exact same thing, even though now we know more about one of the other characters!

And then the fandom gets hissy when the first character gets relegated into the background and assigned some base personality traits, even though that's exactly what happened before.

Personally, I think the ones who suffer from this the MOST are Clay in Arc 1 and Moon in Arc 2. Clay, according to fans, gets boiled down to nothing but his love for food, even though we see in his, Sunny's, and Peril's perspectives that he's more than that. His behaviors also directly correlate to why he gets that kind of background trait (although that's a whole other rant), and every time I see someone saying that Clay got screwed over by characterization, I take psychic damage.

And Moon. God, yall, Moon gets it THE WORST FROM YOU. I've seen SO MANY POSTS about how she got boiled down to nothing but a love triangle piece in the later arcs, which is only partly true, but we also see from ALL OF THOSE PERSPECTIVES (Qibli and Winter specifically) that the traits they're assigning her are both different aspects of how her character worked in the first book and what two lovestruck, moons-blinded dumbasses are seeing and choosing to view her as.

Her book even SHOWS how much of a NIGHTMARE it would be to have every character be deep and know their inner thoughts at all times. Moon herself gets mentally and physically overwhelmed near CONSTANTLY during the majority of her book, and I'm not even technically factoring in Darkstalkers' influence.

All of that to say, Wings of Fire fandom, is to stop losing your SHIT over how your characters might seem flat or not like they were in their books. All of these perspectives are different, and if you motherfuckers actually took some time to reread the books while actively LOOKING for those hints of your silly guys being the same silly guys, just from another dragon's POV, then maybe yall wouldn't be so pissed off about characterization in the books nearly HALF as often.

I don't even care how much discourse this is gonna spark I just felt the incredible urge to tell yall to use those skills you learned in English class and chill the FUCK OUT on this topic.

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. Now go use your eyes :>

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