#he was camp so I had to make it more camp

[balsamfir-fics]

I generally agree with most of OP's analysis, but less so for the Season 2 write up and the implications that aviktor has some low sense of self-worth emotionally. I'm not a subscriber to the genius cold loner camp either as I am fully on board with the S1 analysis, but I disagree that he has self hatred or loathing in S2.

pretty much until Jayce calls Viktor out in those last 10 minutes, there's no indication that Viktor has internalized self-loathing. Rather, from S1 to the crumbs we got in the earlier S2 episodes-- and even some themes from his confusing LoL lore, his Arcane character reads more to me as resigned rather than self-hating.

In my perspective, he fixed his leg more so because he had nothing to lose and was struck by scientific eureka, and there was no time like the present to runify his leg. It gave us the running scene, which I think is so impactful and freeing because it shows Viktor experiencing what he was missing out in terms of bodily strength and stability, but we see that it's short lived because even with his Arcane leg he's back on crutches afterwards.

Up until Jayce' last pitch to him I never got the impression that Viktor internally saw himself as unworthy of love. perhaps to a small extent subconsciously, but that's what therapy is for. I do agree that he was probably genuinely surprised by the extent of Jayce' and Sky's affection because he was a little blind to it before. But personally I don't see that as internalized self-loathing or feelings of unworthiness for love.

that being said, my disagreement comes at the risk of sounding like i instead am in the "he's a misunderstood cold genius who doesn't need it" camp. rather, I think the truth lies in between.

I've always read his character as optimistic and hopeful, even with his personal relations. he approached jayce fiest. yes, it was motivated by the interesting science, but the way he approaches jayce is fluid, displays high EQ, and is extremely charismatic and witty (and bear in mind he talked Jayce off the cliff kindly and with humor). so I think he understands affection and is more than capable of giving it. what i think actually happens in S2 to reconcile what ahayce said and what OP's interpretation is is that Viktor is the kind of person who will get married to his work/carried away *if not gently reminded to take a goddamn break* but I think he in fact can be coaxed away from it to enjoy receiving affection. so I think the issue is more that he IS confident and so excited about his research that he gets carried away and simply needs reminding from time to time.

plenty of geniuses come off as cold but I don't think it's necessary out of feelings of brokenness. jayce' quotes at the end jarred me at first because I didn't ever get the impression that Viktor felt like he needed fixing per se. I think his desire for perfection came out only after experiencing the Arcane (which we know twisted his thoughts away from his humanity). so, Jayce' speech makes sense to me only with respect to him talking to Viktor the Arcane-corrupted machine mage, as an appeal to the Viktor he knows is underneath. And what he says to Viktor is necessary to break past the Arcane layer in mis hind and to remind the internal Viktor that he is as perfect and worthy as he always believed he was beforehand.

so tldr Jayce' words are a reminder to Viktor, not a epiphany or comfort words.

Something that supremely bothers me is the fact that many people fall back into common stereotypes in their interpretations of characters when a property actively works against it.

Case in point, Arcane. We have Viktor, a brilliant inventor and scientist. But unlike the common stereotypes associated with these Tropes, this man feels things intensely, has an immense amount of empathy, and is kind and considerate. Characters like him are usually written as cold, detached, and emotionally stunted. Not Viktor, though. Despite his scientific mind, he is a complexly feeling individual.

I'm just setting the groundwork here, because my topic of frustration really regards Viktor and his outcast status as a child. I have been noticing a worrying trend of interpreting Viktor as having no interest or time for friends because he's too focused on inventing things and is too smart to relate to them. And sure, that can be true to a point.

^ But this is not the face of a kid that has no interest in socializing with his peers. He locks eyes with Sky several times, obviously making sure she is watching and that maybe if she finds his invention cool she will join him. This is a boy who wants friends. But he is rejected. Time and time again. And spoiler: it's not because he's smart.

Viktor's isolation and lack of friends as a child was not due to him being 'too smart' or 'too focused on inventing', it was due to him being disabled. He didn't really have friends because kids are mean and being kids, they judge a book by its cover more often than not. It is something so many disabled people face every day. You are either treated as invisible or as if you are made of glass.

And his lack of close relationships as an adult most definitely stems from being isolated as a child and being frequently sick. And that's another point, as well. When Jayce mentions that Viktor just disappears sometimes, it's obvious to me that he is pulling away from people he cares about so he doesn't attract further attention to his failing health.

But yeah. I thought Arcane deconstructed that stereotype beautifully; that Viktor truly wants to have friends, but as a child he was given serious barriers to entry. And as an adult, his introverted habits persist due in no small part to the fact that he was looked over so much when he was little, coupled with that he does not want to burden people with his chronic health issues.

Arcane takes such a tragic, yet nuanced approach to this and it works so well. Just wanted to get that off my chest. Thanks for reading!

[alaskan-wallflower]

doing research on vietnam and the draft to make actual historically accurate takes so here’s what i got

darry would’ve been drafted, however i believe he would’ve been able to opt out of it as the sole provider of money in the family (though im not sure—in 1970 president nixon set a law for fathers (ik darry isn’t a father but a legal guardian hence why idk if this would work) to prove why their absence would have been dangerous within the family-ill have to find out what year(s) jan 5 was called tho)

edit: also darry would’ve been called to fight in 1969 before the law nixon set in place…BUT if you think about it, the chronic back pain he suffers could’ve been a possible way for him to be exempt (i think he’d play up whatever cards he could to make sure he didn’t have to go-idk i feel like that’s more in character than him just leaving. i think he’d make every effort to stay and i think he could’ve made it work)

edit 2: darry would have been exempt due to his chronic back pain—“any injury that would impair someone’s full efficiency as a soldier will be exempt” (he also wouldn’t have made it through any boot camp activities either with the pain)

soda wouldn’t have been drafted

ponyboy would’ve been but he actually would’ve been exempt because he would be in college at that time-a full time college student was exempt (though i suppose it also depends on whether you think the events happened in ‘64 or ‘67 but regardless the draft ended in 1973 so idk if it would matter either way since pony would’ve graduated in either ‘72 or ‘75 anyway—i don’t think july 22 was called in ‘72 or ‘73)

edit: the draft for july 22nd was called in 1969, when pony would’ve been a full time college student (or in the case of choosing the musical timeline he would’ve been a junior or senior in high school, so regardless pony would have been exempt from the war because he would’ve been a full time college student in ‘69 or he would still be in high school)

johnny would’ve been drafted if he lived , however he would’ve been physically handicapped (unable to walk) and unable to fight anyway so he would’ve been exempt

dally would’ve been drafted with no way out (unless you wish to count if he had gotten shot and lived, in which case the area he would’ve been shot in would probably be the determining factor in if he was drafted or not)

edit: due to dallas’ criminal record i don’t think he’d have been eligible (though it’s hard to tell since his crimes (as far as i know) are all mild misdemeanors (petty theft, driving w/out a license, stuff like that) so idk if that would leave him exempt or not—there’s nothing online saying either way so idk—all that i’ve read is that you can sign a plea waiver but there were felons who fought in vietnam, so im not sure if he would’ve been exempt—but regardless thanks @curlyshepardconfirmed!

two bit would not have been drafted

steve would not have been drafted

tim would not have been drafted either

so realistically the only one who would’ve been drafted if he lived would be dally , depending on the route you wish to go on with him

hope this helps 👍

[wqlfstqr]

◟𖥻 ♡⃕ secret santa: percy jackson

▰▰▰ pairing: percy jackson x fem!reader

y/n doesn't like percy, he's in love with her. the best answer percy finds for this situation? be her secret santa for the upcoming holidays.

warnings: none i think ?? cabin 10 reader just for the plot but it doesn't get mentioned that much.

day one

— 10th of december.

it wasn't even halfway through december and everything was already going bad. Apparently, there had been a storm and Chiron thought that it was safer for campers to stay safely in camp instead of going home since he didn’t know what was happening with Zeus for him to suddenly cause the biggest storm of the year.

frankly, y/n thought Zeus was throwing another one of his childish tantrums, but she couldn't say that out loud because knowing the god, he would probably make things worse. That didn’t mean she wasn't pissed about having to stay at camp though, she was.

that's why, after spending her afternoon hiding her discomfort about the situation, she walked into her cabin and went straight to her bed, wanting more than anything to hide away from the rest of the world. She had been so excited to go and spend her holidays with her father, it was the first time she would be having christmas away from her father.

Just as she was going to jump into her bed, she saw the suitcase with the clothes she had been excitedly packing in the morning. However, when she took the suitcase to put it away, something else catched her attention.

left in her bed was a box of chocolates, a ribbon placed neatly on top of it with a note stuck on it. She took it carefully in her hands, eyeing it with a mix of curiosity and surprise.

“i'm sorry you couldn't go home for the holidays, I do hope some chocolates can cheer you up — your secret santa.

P.S. don't worry, I took the white ones from the box since I know you don't like them”

y/n was left surprised, and when she opened the box and found that the person had, indeed, taken the white chocolates out of the box, she even smiled a tiny bit.

well, the circumstances were not ideal for her, but maybe the holidays were not going to be that bad.

day two

- 12th of december

it took two days for her to take it back. The holidays were going to be awful, especially if she was forced to spend another minute with Percy Jackson.

And if it was up to Chiron, she would have to spend most of her time with Percy. So it was going to be awful, no question. They had both been chosen to plan the christmas party, and it had only been a couple of minutes and y/n almost wanted to go and see if she could drown Percy in the lake. That wouldn't have worked, of course, since he could breathe underwater, but she still was inclined to try.

she still didn’t understand why Chiron had paired them together, she could understand if they needed her help for the party, but what exactly could Poseidon's son provide if not unhelpful ideas and stupid jokes?

"the pavillion could use some blue lights" he suggested unhelpfully, because that's what he did.

she, on the other hand, was set on her own vision of christmas "It’s supposed to be red and green! Like a traditional Christmas!"

they ended up doing nothing that day just because they couldn't agree on anything. y/n suspected he was disagreeing with her just to be annoying, which was something that he seemed to enjoy doing.

but when y/n was back at her cabin, her mood immediatly lifted up when she caught a glimpse of a blue sparkly ribbon in her bed. It had been two days since the first gift, and she had been sure it had been a one time thing. Now, she ignored her siblings and went straight to her bed, finding there a plate of cookies with ribbon and another note on top.

“thought you deserved a sweet treat after working so hard today — Secret Santa.

PS. some of them are a little burnt, but I know how much you like choco-chips cookies"

day three

— 14th of december

When Grover walked into cabin three, he wasn't expecting to find Percy trying to wrap a gift, the floor around him buried in wrapping paper.

“are you seriously trying to go on with this?" the satyr asked, though the answer was very obvious. “Chiron told me you were very interested on helping with the christmas party”

well, maybe Percy had begged Chiron to pair him with y/n since he had overheard her telling one of his siblings that she was chosen to plan the party.

However, Percy was not going to admit that to anyone. "I need help with this wrapping paper, it just isn't folding the way I want to."

Grover rolled his eyes as he walked through the discarded wrapping paper. "You adhd people can't do anything."

"sorry, I was too busy saving the world to attend to gift wrapping 101"

turns out, Grover wasn't any better at wrapping than Percy was. He was worse, actually, since he ate the paper when he got nervous. Thirty minutes later, they had half the wrapping paper they started with and a terrible wrapped present.

"so it's us adhd people huh?" percy asked as he raised his eyebrows.

"hey, I was busy saving the world with you." Grover defended himself as he placed the blue ribbon on top, as if that could cover the terrible work he did.

And since Percy couldn't do any better, the next present on y/n's bed looked like someone had wrapped it with their eyes closed. Still, she didn’t care much when she found it later, because she was busy being too excited over the book she had been reading for months.

“I noticed you kept talking about this book, so I figured it was time you got it. Sorry for the wrapping massacre but hey, don't judge a book by its cover, right? Hope this one keeps you entertained until Zeus chills out. — Secret Santa.”

day four

— 16th of december

Percy and y/n had finally made some progress with the decoration, after Percy annoyed her into allowing him to hang blue lights. She decided to go with it and simply have a blue and white decoration for the pavillion.

they didn’t talk most of the times they met, Percy tried to talk to her but she mostly glared at him or ignored him until he eventually grew tired of talking to himself. It was only sometimes that the silence was too much and y/n would make little comments.

"I'm freezing."

"Didn’t think a daughter of Aphrodite could get cold. Isn't that, like, a beauty hazard? You better warm up, or your hair will lose its shine" And y/n would go back to ignoring him again.

or sometimes they would simply argue.

"No Percy, we can't hang seashells on the tree, are you insane?"

"Why not? it adds nautical charm"

"It’s Christmas! we're not hosting a luau. stick to ornaments, Jackson"

Sometimes, she felt like maybe Percy could be only a little bit likeable, maybe he wasn't too unbearable after all, sometimes he was even funny. But only sometimes.

"How can you make the bows so perfect? mine look like tangled fishing nets" y/n herself was caught by surprise at the laugh that escaped her lips when he raised his bow.

"Maybe if you didn’t tie your bows as if you were anchoring a boat, you would have better luck. Seriously, did Poseidon skip teaching basic motor skills?" And he'd always laugh at her remarks, even when she wasn't being that nice.

By the end of the day, she was tired, but she couldn't deny that she was happy, but she was only happy because they had made progress and now the only thing left was to finish decorating the tree.

And her mood got even better once she stood in front of her bed, noticing the new teddy bear that rested against her pillow, a blue ribbon tied around its neck and a few - blue? - candy canes making a heart on its belly.

“Thought you could use a fuzzy friend to keep you company. — Secret Santa.

PS. I know you don't like candy canes, it was just some decoration. Don't worry, you can give them away."

Day five

— 18th of december.

she ended up giving the candy canes to Percy, and she choose to ignore the weird smile on his face when she gave them to him. Still, he explained that, apparently, he loved candy cane and since those were blue, he loved them even more. Weird.

"Percy Jackson, hero of Olympus, reduced to untangling Christmas lights. Truly a humbling sight." she told him as she found him trying -and failing- to untangle the lights for the tree.

"Give me a little credit here, I think i'm almost done." he replied, a candy cane hanging from his mouth as he continued his work. He wasn't nowhere near done.

But y/n left him to it because she was busy sorting the ornaments. She didn’t know when had been the last time Chiron had gone out for christmas decorations, but the ones her and Percy had found on the big house were old.

She took one of the boxes with the blue ornaments she thought looked the best, and carefully carried it toward the tree, trying to avoid the patches of ice that had formed on the ground outside the Pavillion, she had been so concentrated that she didn’t notice what Percy was up to until a snowball hit her shoulder.

"what the hell, Jackson?" she looked at him, dumbfounded, but he only replied with a laugh.

he went to pick up another snowball, but just as he straightened, she hit him straight on the chest with a snowball of her own. "Okay, that was a lucky shot" he shook the snow out of his hair.

"Lucky? please, I'm a natural" she smiled, shrugging simply.

"Natural at being bossy, maybe." He finally threw the snowball in his hand but he missed his target.

that made y/n laugh, her body feeling lighter as she forgot about the decoration for a moment. "Wow Percy, with aim like that, it's no wonder you stick to swords."

Percy, once again, didn’t take her comment as an offense but simply laughed. She could see his eyes shining as he came close and took the box from her hands.

And he didn’t see it because he turned around to place the box near the tree, but she finally let herself smile as she followed him. When they went back to work, the atmosphere between them felt lighter, warmer, as though a layer of frost was beginning to melt.

When she went back to her cabin, there was a gift already waiting for her in her bed. Whoever this secret santa person was -and y/n really wanted to know who it was-, they had already given up on wrapping and instead used blue ribbon on every gift.

this time, it was a blue and green scarf. And she was confused about it until she looked at the note: “heard you have been cold, maybe you could use a little warmth. — Secret Santa”

day six

— 20th of december

"you're placing the lights wrong" she pointed out as Percy tried to wrap the lights around the tree.

Percy turned to look at her as if she had gome mad. "Are you kidding? there’s surely not a wrong way to place lights on a tree." he replied, his eyebrows raising. "Besides, this is creative expression, you should appreciate it."

"it's an assault on christmas trees everywhere." Percy gasped in mock offense, but he finally stopped whatever he was trying to do with the lights.

"Fine. You hang the lights, I'll stand here looking festive." y/n took the lights from his hands, her fingers grazing his for a second longer than they should.

"If by festive you mean that christmas sweater, it's ugly." this time, she couldn't help but smile a little when he gasped again.

"what's wrong with my sweater? it's festive!" he looked down at the red and blue christmas sweater that had little tridents all over it.

"horrifying, you mean." she mumbled as she put the lights around the tree.

"Aren't you a ray of sunshine? I like your scarf, by the way." he replied, and even though he was always smiling, that moment his smile felt different, y/n didn’t want to find out why. "see how easy is to be nice?"

But the mention of her scarf, made her distracted for a moment as she looked down at the blue and green fluffy scarf around her neck. She still hadn't found out who was her secret santa, and since christmas was coming she wanted to know who was behind those gifts, but she had no clue yet.

She had already questioned her siblings, but no one admitted to being her secret santa and if they knew who it was, they didn’t give the name away even after she threatened them. She was sure of one thing, whoever it was, they had help because it wasn't easy to just sneak into her cabin without her seeing them at least one time.

"hey, Percy." she called absentmindedly, looking up from the scarf. "you pretty much know everyone around camp, don't you?"

"yes, why?" he asked, just as distracted as her because he was hanging some ornaments on the tree.

She hesitated, this was Percy. She didn’t like Percy, she shouldn't share anything about her life with Percy. "Nothing, just thinking about how many people will see you with that ridiculous sweater."

Percy snorted. "next time I'll get you one and we can match."

"I wouldn't wear one of those if my life depended on it, Jackson." and who could blame her if she laughed when Percy looked at her offended.

She also couldn't be blamed if, when the afternoon ended, she had an extra pep in her step. It was just because she was excited over her secret santa, it had nothing to do with Percy Jackson at all!

But it did have to do everything with the box with the blue ribbon placed neatly on top of her bed. It wasn't about the gift at all, no. For y/n, it was how thoughtful everything was. And when she opened the box, she knew she'd have to find who her secret santa was.

Because nobody had ever thought this much about her.

The beautiful bracelet full of small charms, as usual, came with a note. “Each charm has a story. I’ll let you figure them out. — Secret Santa”

day seven

— 22th of december

y/n had tried to make sense of the charms, figure the story behind them. She had been looking at the bracelet every moment she could for the past two days, she already knew the charms by memory: a wave, a heart, an apple, a sweater, a book and finally a star.

She thought that maybe, if she figured it out, she could at least get a hint of who his secret santa was. But she couldn't even guess who this person's godly parents was just because the many charms gave her misleading hints.

Shee was looking at it as she walked through camp, ready to meet Percy at the pavillion so they could finish their decoration for the party. She found him already there, waiting for her with a smile that only stretched on his face when he looked at her.

"Ready for today, boss?" she could've sworn his gaze flickered to the bracelet on her wrist just for a moment but then he was walking past her to pick up the box of decorations.

They ended up drinking some hot chocolate while they decorated just to shake off the cold from the day. These past days, y/n couldn't help but wonder if maybe she had judged Percy a bit too hard before, he wasn't as annoying as she made him out to be.

By the end of the afternoon, they were almost ready with their decorations, Percy was hanging some garlands, his back turned to y/n, who was balancing on her toes to hang a sprig of mistletoe above one of the archways.

She stretched as far as she could, grumbling under her breath. "Who even invented the mistletoe tradition? It’s just a parasite plant. And why is it always there at the worst times?"

Percy chuckled, his voice echoing from across the pavilion. "You��re the one who insisted on using it. Aphrodite's influence finally catching up to you?"

"Oh shut up, Jackson," she shot back, standing precariously on her toes. She was about to talk again when the tip of her shoe slipped slightly on the frosted wooden floor.

"Whoa careful!" Percy dropped the piece of garland he had on his hand and rushed to her.

She caught herself before she could fall, but Percy steadied her anyway, his hands instinctively landing on her waist. "Are you good?" he asked, his face closer than it probably needed to be.

She huffed, looking at the slippery floor before her gaze went back to him. "Can we sue Zeus for hazardous working conditions?"

Percy smirked, helping her regain her footing but keeping his hands on her waist just a second longer than necessary. "Good luck with that lawsuit. Let me know how it goes when you present your case to the olympians."

That’s when they both looked up.

The sprig of mistletoe hanging innocently above them. It swayed slightly in the breeze, almost as if it was mocking them. She blinked at it, her mind racing as her cheeks turned pink. Percy, on the other hand, looked frozen in place.

"I- uh," she started, but her words faltered when his gaze flicked down to her lips for just a second too long.

And when y/n noticed, she couldn't control her eyes as they copied his actions, her gaze going to his lips before returning to his own eyes. It took her a second to realize what she was doing, and she immediatly stepped back.

What was she doing? this was percy jackson!

"I think we're done here, don't you?" Percy only nodded, and for the first time, he wasn’t smirking or cracking a joke. He just stood there, wide-eyed, staring at her.

When she got back to her cabin, she was shaken and it wasn't because of the snow at all. She was so distracted with thoughts of Percy that she almost missed the gift waiting for her as she sat on the edge of her bed.

This time, a neatly folded sweater was placed on her pillows. And for a second, it reminded her of Percy, until she shook off the thought and reached for the note placed over the blue ribbon.

"a little bird told me you liked sweaters, this one might add some extra holiday sparkle to your already dazzling style. I just hope you won't want to burn it. — Your fashionable Secret Santa."

day eight

— 24th of december

y/n had stayed in her cabin as much as possible for the past two days. Now that Percy and her had finished with the preparations for the party, she wasn't forced to spend time with him and she planned on keeping it that way, so she avoided him as much as she could.

Yet, she couldn't keep thinking about him. And that's why she decided it would be best to just stay away from him, at least until her infatuation - and she was sure that's what it was, nothing else - would wear out.

So in the morning of christmas eve, y/n didn’t even went to have breakfast with her siblings, instead she stayed late in bed. She had dreamed about percy, again! and now, she was grumpy as she wrapped herself on her blanket.

It was his fault, for making her feel comfortable with him, for making her forget about how annoying he was, for running to catch her without even thinking, for looking at her lips with those eyes! those stupid sea green eyes she had been seeing every night in her dreams for the past two days.

Now, she would stay on her room, away from everyone. It didn’t matter if it was christmas eve, and damn her secret santa! if they wanted to leave something, they would have to do it with her there. Because she wasn't going anywhere.

Well, at least that had been her plan. Until noon when Grover barged into her room, startling her. "y/n we need you at the stables.. is... uh-" he hesitated. "we just need you, can you come?"

She was about to tell the satyr that he should really learn to knock, but since he seemed shaken and she wasn't doing anything but looking at the ceiling, she stood up from her bed and followed him.

She was wearing her pijamas and the sweater that had been gifted to her. It was truly ugly, with christmas colors and little cupids all over it. But she liked it and it wasn't because it reminded her of percy's ugly trident sweater. No. Nothing to do with Percy. She just liked that her Secret Santa had put effort into it.

As it turns out, Grover didn’t have any emergency or reason to take y/n out of her cozy bed, because there was nothing happening at the stables. The Satyr was acting strange and he told her that the pegasi just needed her, but after they were served food, there was nothing else to do but he insisted on her staying there.

"Grover i'm freezing, can I at least go back to take some gloves and a scarf?" she rubbed her hands against her sweater, trying to keep them warm.

"No!" he exclaimed loud enough to make y/n jump away in surprise. Then, he looked over her shoulder and his face relaxed. "I mean, you can just go if you want to, I think the pegasi are fine."

She looked at him skeptically. He was acting strange. But ultimately, she decided it wasn't out of the ordinary for Grover. "okay... I'll see you later?" she replied before she went back to her cabin.

What she didn’t expect when she walked into her cabin, almost running to her bed because she was freezing, was that her secret santa had worked while she was away.

The past week, she had stood in front of her bed opening all kind of thoughtful presents that made her smile, but this time she was speechless at what waited for her.

Fairy lights were hanging from her bedposts, and fresh flowers were placed in a vase on the nightstand beside her bed, but that didn’t compare at all with the gift waiting for her. As she carefully pulled the blue ribbon off, her eyes wandered through the star map. It was pretty, but the note that came with it was beautiful.

"One night at the bonfire, I remember how you looked at the sky and said 'If I ever get lost, I hope the stars lead me home'. This is a map that shows the stars the first time you came home to camp half-blood. The night I met you. — Secret Santa

PS. I know Christmas is technically tomorrow, but this couldn't wait. So happy christmas!"

y/n sat for a long time in her bed, reading the note over and over again. It wasn't until half an hour later that she realized something: Grover had taken her out of her room so whoever her secret santa was could arrange everything. Grover knew who her secret santa was.

She finds out

— 25th of december.

"I already told you, I have no clue what you're talking to me about!" Grover replied, very obviously trying to run away from her.

This had been going on for the past twelve hours or so, Grover refused to tell her the identity of her secret santa, and she had already tried everything to get him to tell her. He just didn’t budge.

She gave Grover a suspicious look as he hurried off, practically tripping over his own hooves in his attempt to get away. For someone who claimed to know nothing, he sure was acting guilty.

But whatever. She had bigger problems right now, like how her heart felt like it was going to leap out of her chest every time she read the note. And the star map? It was so thoughtful, so personal. She couldn't stop staring at it, wondering how her Secret Santa could possibly know her so well.

It wasn’t until she was alone in the Aphrodite cabin, looking at her closet while thinking about what to wear to the party, that the pieces started falling into place. She fiddled absentmindedly with the bracelet on her wrist, the charms clinking softly. Her eyes fell on one charm specifically. The book.

She had been so focused on making sense of the charms that she hadn't thought to connect them to the other gifts. There was a book charm and she had been gifted the book she had been wanting. She remembered she had been book shopping with Annabeth when she mentioned that specific book. But it surely couldn't be Annabeth.

Her brows furrowed together, trying hard to remember something from that day. But the only thing she could remember was that Percy had tagged along with them and she had been so annoyed with him, because he kept knocking down books and asking dumb questions and-

A gasp left her lips as the realization kicked in and she had to sit down immediatly, her hand desperately looking for the apple charm. How had she missed it? it had been right in front of her the whole time, the apple and the first time she came to camp.

Her mind wandered back to the note. “The first time you came home to Camp Half-Blood. The night I met you.”

The night she met him. The night Percy and Grover had found her wounded in the woods. The next morning, where Percy had given her an apple and then he had tried to make some joke that only worked to put y/n in a bad mood. He'd brought her to Chiron, and she hadn't thought about it ever again.

But now... now she couldn’t stop thinking about it. Or the bracelet. Or how every single gift felt like it was tailored just for her and connected to him somehow: the scarf after she had been complaining to him about the cold, the christmas sweater after she had teased him about his, the chocolates after that one time Annabeth tried to bring her some and she left the white ones to Percy, the blue candy cane after she had said so many times that she hated it, the chocolate chip cookies she loved because of couse Percy would burn them, the blue ribbon!

Her heart skipped a beat as she replayed every interaction they’d had over the past few days. The snowball fight, the way he’d caught her when she slipped on the ice, the way he’d looked at her under the mistletoe. How she’d sworn he’d almost kissed her.

It was him. All of this time, it had been him. And she had been avoiding him, so torn apart with her feelings that she hadn't realized what was in front of her.

Percy gets a gift back.

— 25th of december

y/n had to beg Leo to help her at the very last minute, but as she walked through the party with a little box in hand, she was glad that Valdez could literally turn trash into beautiful things, because now she had the perfect gift.

And the only thing that was left for her to do was find Percy. It shouldn't be hard, since the pavillion wasn't too big, but she was simply too distracted with her thoughts to find him at first glance. At the end, he was the one to find her when she bumped into someone and he catched her before she could fall. Again.

"Hey, you." he smiled, and now she could see the meaning behind the shine in his eyes. "I see you made it out of your cabin. I thought you were going for the ‘grumpy hermit’ vibe today."

She rolled her eyes, but there was a fondness to them once she looked at him. He even looked surprised when she smiled. "Very funny, I actually wanted to talk to you."

He raised his eyebrows. "whats up?" y/n tried to ignore the way her heart seemed to slow down at how nervous she felt.

Instead, she extended the small box towards him. "I got you a gift."

Percy blinked, looking at her like she had grown a second head. "You did?"

She rocked back and forth on her heels as she looked down on the box, pushing it into his hands. "yes, consider it a... thank you gift."

His fingers brushed hers briefly as he finally took the box, eyeing it curiously. "Thank you? for what exactly?"

"for..." making me happy through the holidays. "oh you know, for helping me with the party and for not being completely unbearable."

She hated how her heart raced when he let out a chuckle. "just what any person wants to hear." he joked, but he was already distracted because he was opening the box.

She had made a point of placing a blue ribbon on top, but he didn’t seem to place the pieces together until he looked into the box. Inside was a bracelet, a simple leather cord with three small charms hanging from it, a star, a seashell and a heart.

He looked up at her, surprise evident in his eyes as he opened his mouth to talk, but she was faster. "I thought you'd maybe want to match." she said, raising her arm, the bracelet on her wrist jingling softly.

he was gaping at her, and for a moment he looked slighly panicked, his eyes darted nervously to Grover, who was standing nearby and immediately pretended to be interested in the food table. He had no choice but to look back at her. "You know?"

y/n opened her mouth to tease him, but the panic in his expression stopped her. Instead, she smiled softly. “Yeah, I figured it out. You weren’t exactly subtle, Percy.”

Percy laughed, rubbing the back of his neck. “Hey, give me a little credit here, it took you long enough to figure it out." he paused, suddenly quiet. "did you like them?”

It was the first time y/n saw Percy acting shy instead of his usual confidence. “I loved them,” she admitted. “Even that horrifying sweater.”

"i'm just glad you didn’t burn it." he joked, his usual grin back on his face.

Percy looked like he was about to say something else when his eyes flicked upward, she followed his gaze and froze. There it was, for the second time in the week, the mistletoe she hung mocking hee yet again.

Even though it was freezing, her cheeks burned as she looked back at him. "Oh."

"Yeah" Percy said, his voice softer now. “Funny how these things just... appear.”

They stood there for a moment, the noise of the party fading into the background. Percy’s eyes locked on hers, his usual playfulness replaced with something deeper, something that made her chest tighten.

"Well" she said, trying to break the tension, "are you just going to stand there, or—"

He didn’t let her finish. Percy leaned down, brushing his lips against hers in a kiss that was sweet and hesitant but full of meaning. It wasn’t long or overly dramatic. Just a gentle, warm kiss that left her mind spinning. When he pulled back, he was smiling again.

"Well" he said, mocking her as he glanced at the mistletoe again "Maybe it wasn't so bad for you to put that thing there."

She blinked at him, momentarily stunned. Then she scowled, smacking his chest lightly. “don’t push your luck, Jackson.”

And he only laughed.

But as they walked back into the party, side by side, she couldn’t help the warmth spreading through her chest. Maybe Percy Jackson wasn’t so bad after all.

[lucidbee]

Please Don’t Kill My Boyfriend | Percy Jackson x Reader

Summary: Hermes is an overprotective father.

Word count: 942

Authors note: I wrote this at 2am and didn't proofread before posting, this is definitely not my best work. Please give me requests. 

It was a simple quest all you had to do was kill a group of Echidna that were causing a little too much trouble. A three-day feat at most. When the quest wrapped up on the second day, Percy had the brilliant idea of staying back and relaxing on the way back to camp, instead of sleeping in an alleyway or in the forest with the remaining money we had, we rented two hotel rooms for the night. Grover demanded that he have his own room, stating he could no longer be so close to teenagers in love.  

It started out completely innocent light kisses and words of devotion. It quickly turned into much more when the idea of making up for lost time came into your head. Camp was amazing but it definitely was strict on one thing. No campers of the opposite sex could be alone together. Percy and you had already gotten in trouble trying to sneak you into his cabin late at night, for this exact reason. It was one night of fun that would hopefully be enough to last for a whole summer. That was until a flash of blinding light blinded you both and in front of the bed stood your father. Hermes. 

“You were tasked with killing a monster, not trying to impregnate my daughter,” Hermes angrily shouted, pulling Percy out of bed by his hair.

“I-I  promise that wasn’t my attention sir,” Percy choked out trying to spare the God's wrath. 

“Sure it wasn't, I’ve been alive for thousands of years boy, I have fathered hundreds of children, I am very much aware of what was about to take place in this hotel room,” Hermes growled, dropping Percy onto the floor. Who quickly went to put his pants that were on the floor back on. 

“Dad please it wasn’t like that, we’re teenagers what did you expect to happen?” You called out from underneath the bed sheets.

“You can’t go around sleeping with the son of Posideon y/n.” “You just had to choose the one demi-god that danger follows the most, you could have dated a son of Demeter but nooo.” 

“Take it up with Aphrodite if you don’t want me to love him, we weren’t doing anything wrong,” You cry out, holding the sheets close to yourself as you pick up your clothes from the floor. 

“I am trying to protect you y/n, you’re life is dangerous enough as it is.” Hermes says in a more gentle tone, turning around for you to be able to get dressed. 

“Percy is more than capable of protecting me father, he is the strongest demi-god to ever exist, he has saved Olympus multiple times.” You say while putting on your clothes.

“I still don’t like it, why don’t you take the vow of chastity? Hmm, doesn’t that sound nice?”

“Dad please.”

“I would never purposely put your daughter in harms way, I would flood the world to find her, I would cause earthquakes the world has never seen to avenged her, I love her sir.” Percy said coming to stand next to you. 

Hermes turns to face you both with a defeated look on his face. “You wouldn’t stop seeing eachother even if I ordered you two huh?”

“Nope.”

“No, sir.”

“If you ever hurt my daughter fish boy I will hunt you down and destroy everything you love.”

“Of course sir, I wouldn’t expect anything else.” 

“Now come on get in the car im taking you both back to camp,” Hermes says walking to the hotel door. 

You both awkwardly follow behind him; Percy followed you into the backseat of the cab, shutting the door behind him. “ Do you know how to please a woman, fish boy?” Hermes asked climbing into the front seat of the car. 

“DAD” You scream out. Percys face is beat red and a stuttering mess.

“I just want to make sure he will make a good life partner for you, humans don’t understand the whole open relationship thing us Gods do,” Hermes says driving out of the hotel parking lot.

“Does he make you finish y/n? Sex life is very important in a relationship.”

“Dad please stop,” You beg.

“Is he a selfish lover? A son of Posideon would be selfish in bed, I don’t know why you didn’t choose Zeus’s son.” 

“Please I beg of you stop”

“Yes Zeus is a horrible partner, but he atleast makes you finish,” Hermes continues on, ignoring your pleas.

You suffer through the longest car ride of your life. Both of your faces a permanent color of red by the end of it. Hermes wouldn’t let up for the whole car ride, asking you more and more embarrassing questions. Hermes stop at the border of the camp getting out of the cab to grab your bags out of the trunk. 

“Remeber Percy, sex toys are your friend not your enemy,” Hermes says handing the bags off to Percy to carry. 

“I-I will, sir,” Percy stutters out. 

“And y/n rember to pray to me if he causes you any trouble, I’ll cause him the worst pain he has experienced yet,” Your father says taking you into a hug.

“Thanks Dad, I love you.”

Hermes gets back into the cab, driving off as you and Percy take hands walking back into camp. 

“Well that was fun,” I say chuckling.

“It was definitely an experience I would not like to relive again,” Percy says laughing. Taking his first deep breath since your father appeared. 

“Hey Percy?”

“Yeah,” He says turning to look at you.

“We forgot Grover at the hotel.”

“Shit.”

[skyward-floored]

Whumptober Day 31 - making amends

Cries wails screams sobs I’m finally done I’m gonna cry

This isn’t the best but it’s DONE and that’s all that matters, babey. Thanks to everybody who’s stuck around and read these, I appreciate you all so so much <3 if you want the long version of the thanks go to ao3 lol.

Thank you guys again 💖

Ao3 link

Warnings: brief injury and blood.

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

Hyrule had punched Wild in the face.

Time hadn’t seen it happen himself, busy washing clothes with a few of the others, but when the yelling had started and they’d rushed back to camp with their swords drawn, it was blatantly obvious what had happened. Blood was streaming from Wild’s nose, and he and Hyrule both looked furious as Warriors forcibly dragged the two of them apart.

Twilight quickly snagged Wild when he tried to leap forward again, and Sky grabbed Hyrule, the other heroes in camp in varying stages of getting up or in the process of intervening, faces alarmed.

Time frowned, staring at the evidence of the brawl in front of him. More than one punch had obviously been thrown, seeing as Hyrule had a split lip and a shiny eye, Wild with scraped knuckles and a scratched chin that was mostly concealed by the blood running down his face, hair messier than usual. Both of them were further dirty and scuffed and giving each other death glares, and Time lowered his sword as he strode forward.

“And what is going on here?” He demanded, and both boys startled, then resumed their glaring.

“They were arguing about something, I didn’t hear it all,” Warriors admitted when neither of them spoke, crossing his arms.

“It was nothing,” Wild hissed under his breath, and Time raised an eyebrow as more blood dripped from his nose.

“Somehow I doubt that,” Time said flatly, and Wild glared at the ground, Hyrule glaring out at the forest. “What on Farore’s green earth were you two fighting about that was so serious you decided hitting each other was the best course of action?”

Instead of replying, Hyrule finally managed to squirm out of Sky’s grip and bolt into the woods.

“Traveler!” Legend shouted from his place near Time, then growled to himself. “...aaaaand nope he’s gone.”

Wild took their distracted states to also make a break for it, and Time sighed as he disappeared in the opposite direction from Hyrule, both heroes gone in moments.

“Did really nobody hear what started it?” he asked wearily, rubbing a hand over his brow.

“I heard Wild say something about Zelda,” Four spoke up, looking uneasy. “But not much else. I was reading.”

“It seemed like one moment they were just arguing and then the next they were rolling around on the ground at each other’s throats,” Warriors sighed, tapping his fingers on his arm as he spoke. “I apologize. I didn’t realize it had gotten so bad.”

“Well, I’m going after Wild,” Twilight said with a frown, already turning in the direction the champion had gone. “These woods are dangerous, I don’t want him running off alone even if he is mad.”

“I’ll go find our traveler,” Time added, and Legend shrugged, turning back the way they’d come.

“Have fun. I don’t want to untangle that mess. I’ll go get the laundry.”

Time went one way and Twilight went the other, and everyone else mostly went back to what they were doing (with the exception of Legend, who nearly tripped in his haste to get back to the river when he realized their clothes were trying to wash away).

Time followed the faint trail Hyrule had left, the signs of someone passing this way a bit more obvious than they’d normally be. Hyrule really must have been mad if he hadn’t taken the time to be as cautious. Time frowned to himself as he walked, purposely taking his time. He figured he’d give Hyrule some time to cool down, but in the meantime he wondered what it was that had set the two of them off so much.

Wild and Hyrule usually got on like a house on fire, and when they argued, it was usually just in jest. Four had said Zelda had come up, but how had that gotten them to the point of blows? Had that really been the only issue?

Time sighed and shook his head. He wouldn’t know until he found the traveler.

Assuming he’s willing to talk.

A few more minutes of walking went by before Time heard a noise, and he followed it, listening intently. He stepped over a small stream, and found Hyule pacing in an angry little circle around the clearing he’d come upon. His face was red and his eye had further swollen, a little bit of blood still staining his lip, but his cheeks also looked damp from something besides blood. Time stepped forward and Hyrule leveled a glare on him, which turned to a confused look as he realized which hero it was.

Time nodded a greeting, but didn’t do anything else, merely stayed where he was while Hyrule blinked at him. His surprise quickly slipped away, and Hyrule huffed, turning away from him.

“Come to drag me back to camp?” he asked, voice strangely level.

“No, Twilight merely mentioned these woods are dangerous, and it would be unwise to be alone,” Time replied, and Hyrule blinked again, then waved him off, his sour expression easing a bit.

“I’m fine, you don’t need to worry about me.”

“Perhaps, but it’s nice to have backup. Especially if you can’t see very well,” Time said, and Hyrule raised an eyebrow.

“I could say the same of you,” he said as he crossed his arms. “Can you see very well? You may keep the lid closed but I’ve seen you flicker your eye before.”

His tone was sharp, and Time frowned. “We’re not here to talk about me,” Time said firmly, and Hyrule turned away again. Time sighed, and made an effort to soften his voice when he spoke again. “Hyrule, what happened?”

The traveler looked down at the leaf litter, bits of moss and grasses sticking up from between the leaves. He nudged at a fern that was still uncurling, then sighed and kicked at the ground.

“Wild doesn’t get it,” he bit out, not looking at Time. “Doesn’t get our situations were different. He thinks— he thinks Zelda is just—”

Hyrule let out a growl of frustration, raising a hand to wipe at his cheek.

“He doesn’t get it!” Hyrule continued as his hands tightened into fists. “I know she’s not weak, but she’s just a young lady! She can’t fight, and if she tried and she was hurt I’d— I’d never forgive myself, and Wild— why does he— rrrgh!”

Hyrule harshly kicked a rock off into the woods, then sat down on a log with a hard thump.

He went silent, and Time cautiously joined his side, sitting beside him on the log when he made no move to stop him. They didn’t speak for several moments, and Time looked up at the trees, most green, some yellow, a handful already turning to orange and red. A bright blue bird flew past, calling a short song into the air, and its mate answered off in the distance.

Hyrule sighed, and his shoulders abruptly slumped.

“I don’t know why I hit him,” Hyrule whispered. “We’ve... it was a stupid argument. Things have just been so tense since Twi...”

He shook his head and stared at the ground, and Time slowly breathed out.

It was true. Their entire group had been on edge since Twilight’s brush with death, and apparently the tension was still as strong as ever despite his recovery. Enough to make two heroes that normally got on better than most of them to exchange blows.

Over Zelda of all things.

“I would bet that the champion feels similarly,” Time said quietly, Hyrule still staring at the ground. “You may have hit him, but it’s quite obvious he hit you back, and I doubt he meant to go so far either.”

“Maybe. We were really going at it,” Hyrule mumbled, wiping more blood off his chin. “I don’t know what came over me. He was being stupid, and I just couldn’t... ugh.”

Hyrule slumped further over, and kicked at the leaves with his boot.

“Do you think he hates me?” he said, so quietly Time barely heard it.

Time sighed, then made sure Hyrule was looking when he shook his head “No. Our champion has been hit by a lot worse than a punch. I doubt he’ll hate you for a broken nose,” Time reassured, and Hyrule’s eyes went wide.

“Did I really break his nose?!”

“It... looked that way,” Time admitted, and guilt rushed across Hyrule’s swelling face. “We have plenty of potions, traveler, I’m sure there’s no permanent harm done.”

Hyrule looked away from him and nodded, though he still looked guilty. He suddenly sighed and squeezed his eyes shut, a strange mixture of emotions on his face.

“I hate this. I hate the shadow,” he whispered. “If it wasn’t for him— I hate that Twilight almost died. If my spell hadn’t worked— it almost didn’t— he...”

His voice died, and Hyrule swallowed as Time’s stomach lurched unpleasantly.

He’d been trying not to dwell on that night, but memories suddenly flooded his brain without his permission. Hyrule pushing and pushing and passing out from sheer exhaustion, Twilight pale as the moon outside as he clung weakly to life, Time staying up to watch the both of them as he weighed his ocarina in his hand, his eye fixed on Twilight’s chest, heart skipping a beat every time his breath hitched.

It had been days now, but the anxiety was still there, and Time hadn’t realized just how much it had been affecting everyone else.

“Traveler, you did admirably,” Time said in a quiet voice, setting a hand on his arm. “Despite everything you managed to heal him, which was more than any of the rest of us could do. You saved Twilight’s life. And you have my eternal thanks for that.”

Hyrule’s face turned red for a reason besides injury, and he looked away as Time squeezed his shoulder.

“But Twilight isn’t the issue at the moment,” Time continued, setting aside his turbulent thoughts. “You and Wild are. Your arguing is none of my business, but coming to blows is a real issue.”

“He deserved it,” Hyrule said viciously, then wilted, sighing. “I know. I should... probably apologize.”

“That seems wise,” Time agreed with a smile, and offered a hand to Hyrule. “Shall we head back?”

Hyrule hesitated, and Time saw something flash in his gaze. “Maybe not... just yet,” he mumbled, and Time nodded.

“That sounds fine. We should probably give him time to cool off further anyway. Our champion has quite the temper."

"He's not the only one, Hyrule admitted with a tiny smile.

Time and Hyrule spent a good hour just sitting there, listening to the woods and the tiny creek, not really talking much at all. Hyrule didn’t heal himself or take the potion Time offered, but Time didn’t press it. If he couldn’t convince him to heal himself now, he was sure Legend or the captain could. Maybe even Wild, once they made up.

Which Time was confident would happen.

They'd better.

Right as the sun began to sink behind the tree trunks, Hyrule raised his head and stood, exhaling slowly. Time stood up as well, and they wordlessly headed back to camp, Hyrule staying quiet.

The walk seemed much shorter on the way back, and it wasn’t long before they broke through the trees of the clearing where they’d set up, six gazes flickering their way, a seventh staring at the ground. The silence stretched, and Wind quickly resumed the conversation he’d paused when Time and Hyrule had appeared, which made everyone get back to what they’d been doing as well.

Time couldn’t help studying Wild as everyone pretended things were normal, and he sighed.

Wild’s nose had obviously been taken care of, the blood cleaned from his face, but his chin had a bandage on it, and his nose looked a little red. He was crouched by the fire, ignoring Hyrule, and stirring some kind of soup that Time had smelled long before they’d arrived. Twilight was sitting beside him, cutting off slices of warm bread, and Time gently clapped Hyrule on the shoulder before he went to go sit down.

Hyrule’s jaw worked for a moment as he stood in the middle of camp, and then he slowly walked over to Wild and Twilight, his hands fidgeting at his sides.

“Do you... need any help?” he asked, and though Wild didn’t react, Twilight looked up, smiling at him.

“Here, you can finish slicing this,” he offered, handing Hyrule the bread and the knife. “You’ll probably get the pieces more even than me anyway.”

Hyrule hesitantly took them, and Twilight scooted over, making room for Hyrule between him and Wild. Hyrule to his credit didn’t hesitate, sitting down without another word, though he left plenty of room between him and the champion.

Time watched them from his place beside Warriors, and the captain watched the two of them intently, obviously ready to get up at the slightest show of aggression. But Wild and Hyrule, despite only being a foot apart, were very effectively pretending the other wasn’t there, Wild sprinkling salt in his soup, Hyrule methodically slicing bread.

Time watched Wild cook, the champion firmly keeping his head turned away from Hyrule, and he raised an eyebrow as he realized what kind of soup he was making. Hyrule’s gaze flickered to the pot as Wild tossed in some herbs, and he blinked, obviously realizing what Time just had.

Wild had made Hyrule’s favorite.

Hyrule swallowed, and he set the bread down onto a cloth, finished slicing it up.

“I’m sorry,” he said, so quietly Time barely made it out. Wild paused in his stirring, his hood effectively hiding his expression from the angle Time was sitting, and Wind’s laugh at something Sky said felt out of place.

Wild slowly leaned over, taking something out of his pouch, and he carefully ladled hot soup into the bowl he’d grabbed.

Then he offered it to Hyrule.

Hyrule blinked, Twilight stilled beside him, and Time and Warriors watched in silence as he stared at the steam rising slowly from the bowl.

“Me too,” Wild whispered, his expression somehow miserable and awkward and exhausted all at the same time.

Hyrule gave him a wobbly smile and accepted the bowl, and though neither of them said anything further, it was like a fog had lifted off of their group. The mood instantly seemed to get lighter, and Warriors gave Time a relieved look.

Time returned it, and watched with a smile as Wild scooted closer to Hyrule, and the two began passing out food to everyone. They began quietly talking, and Time's smile grew as Hyrule blushed, and Wild grinned at something, tapping his nose.

Time stood up and got his own bowl, and watched the two of them carrying on like nothing had happened at all. Hyrule shot him a small smile as he walked over, and Time sat down beside Twilight, returning it as he casually slung an arm around his descendant.

Twilight leaned against him a little, and Time took a sip of soup, the warmth it sent to his stomach nothing compared to the warmth all around him.

[rhiannonsknife]

Okay okay so hear me out.

Imagine the Yellowjackets are actually at the nationals instead of the plane crashing. And Jackie desperately tries to avoid r BUT the coach puts them in the same room for whatever reason, maybe shauna and jackie were playing around too much so as punishment shauna had to switch with r.

Now that they’re both forced to be closer than usual Jackie is genuinely losing her mind and her emotions are ALL around. Maybe they hook up, maybe not. Or they have a GENUINE conversation for once, which surprises Jackie..

You can do whatever you want with that idea, it’s totally up to you

— summary: secretly hooking up with jackie taylor. part 1. part 2.

— warnings: implied internalized homophobia & cheating. angst. hurt/no comfort because this is how things are done here. fem!reader. nsfw content. mdni.

— a/n: enough with the jackie taylor fluff, back to the filthy lesbian sex + angst. you’re welcome.

the hallway of the hotel buzzes with the usual pre-competition chaos: teammates of various different schools all across the states scurrying between rooms, the sound of laughter and last-minute pep talks echoing off the walls. nationals. the peak of everything the yellowjackets had worked for all season. your last chance to win the thing as a team before most of you graduate.

obviously, jackie should feel excited, focused, and ready to step onto that court and lead her team to victory one final time.

instead, her stomach churns, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the pressure of the next couple of days.

“switching rooms is a terrible idea,” she reasons, arms crossed tightly over her chest as she glares at coach martinez.

“this is not a debate, taylor,” he replies, voice clipped. “this isn’t summer camp. you’re here to win, not distract your teammates with shipman. now get your stuff and make the swap. it’s only a weekend”

jackie glances sideways, catching your eye from where you stand a little further down the hall. you’re leaning casually against the wall, trying to act like you’re not paying attention, but she knows better. you’ve always been good at reading her, too good for her comfort. what you’re not so good at is pretending.

she can see the way you’re watching the exchange, trying to hide the obvious amusement in your gaze as jackie tries to reason with the coach.

she’s been doing her absolute best to keep her distance, to keep things simple and clean. nationals are stressful enough without throwing whatever this is into the mix. but now, thanks to shauna’s antics, the universe has decided to test her self-control all over again.

with a resigned sigh and not another look back at coach martinez, jackie grabs her bag and stalks toward her new room.

you’re barely done setting your things down when she barges past you and into the space

“hello to you too, roomie” you mutter as you close the door on your own way in.

she shoots you a look, tossing her bag onto the other bed with more force than necessary. “don’t get too comfortable,” she mutters. “this isn’t permanent”

“oh?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “didn’t realize you had the power to override coach’s orders all of a sudden”

jackie’s jaw tightens, her posture stiffening as she stands by the bed. “i don’t,” she snaps, her voice sharp. “but i’ll talk to him tomorrow and get it fixed. until then, just…stay on your side of the room”

you scoff, setting your bag down with a little more force than necessary. “stay on my side of the room? what are we? fucking twelve?”

jackie glares at you. “i’m serious,” she says, brushing past you to grab her toiletries from her bag. “i don’t want any trouble”

“trouble?” you repeat, your voice rising slightly. truthfully, you don’t mean to. but ever since you started whatever this is between you, jackie has been doing the same thing over and over: pushing you away, pretending like you don’t exist at all. she won’t even look at you in school. all you can do is watch when she’s with jeff instead, holding his hands or kissing him in the hall, for once not afraid of the affection

“you’re the one acting like this is the end of the world. it’s just one night, jackie. maybe try not making it weird for once”

jackie freezes mid-motion, her hand gripping the zipper of her duffel bag. when she turns to face you, there’s a familiar edge in her expression. “i’m making it weird?” she shoots back. “you think i want to be stuck here with you?”

the words hit harder than they should, but you refuse to let her see the sting. of course jackie taylor wouldn’t want to be caught in the same room with you if you’re not knuckle deep inside her simultaneously.

“right,” you say flatly, crossing your arms. “because it’s so awful being in the same room as me, huh? god forbid we have to actually talk like normal people”

jackie flinches at the unexpected bitterness in your tone, but she doesn’t back down either. “i’m just saying,” she starts. “this is nationals. it’s a big deal. we should be focusing on the game, not…whatever”

“whatever,” you echo, narrowing your eyes. “right. because that’s all this is to you. just some ‘whatever’”

her cheeks flush, and she glances away, busying herself with folding a stray sweatshirt. “i didn’t say that,” she mutters.

“you didn’t have to,” you reply, your voice slightly quieter now, but no less tense. “you know, for someone who’s so concerned about ‘trouble,’ you’re pretty good at creating it”

jackie’s hands still, her knuckles whitening as she grips the shirt tightly. for a moment, it looks like she might say something, but then she exhales sharply and shoves the sweatshirt away. a part of you would prefer it if she actually did. if she, for once, recognizes what you two have, rather than keeping it something shameful. something unspoken. it shouldn’t surprise you that she doesn’t.

“i’m going to take a shower,” jackie announces instead. “just…stay out of my way”

she doesn’t wait for a response before grabbing her things and heading for the door, leaving you alone in the too-quiet room. the door slams shut behind her, and you sink onto the edge of your bed, rubbing a hand over your face.

this wasn’t what you had envisioned for the nationals. you didn’t ask to be thrown into a room with jackie, but now that you are, you can’t help the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. why do you have to be punished, just because she and shauna can’t behave?

jackie has been keeping you at arm’s length for months now, barely acknowledging you outside of stolen moments behind closed doors that she won’t talk about. and now, trapped in this tiny room together, all the tension and unspoken words feel like they’re pressing down on you, endlessly heavy and suffocating.

when she finally returns, her hair damp and her face scrubbed clean, the air between you is no less charged.

she moves stiffly, avoiding your gaze as she sets her toiletries down and climbs into bed without a word. you briefly consider saying something to break the silence, but the memory of her earlier words

you think I want to be stuck here with you?

holds you back. instead, you turn off the bedside lamp and lie down on your back, the too-small room plunging into darkness.

a long time passes by in the familiar silence. it’s all it ever is with jackie: radio silence until it’s not an inconvenience for her to want you. then, you’ll have her for a couple of hours, before things go back to how they were before.

the other bed creaks softly beside you as jackie shifts, her back to you. for a second, you think she’s fallen asleep already. then you hear her sigh, low and almost inaudible.

despite everything, her sharp words, her cold demeanor, you know jackie, for better or for worse. you know she’s scared, for reasons beyond you, and conflicted. she’s trying so desperately to pretend to be something she’s not. and she would've been able to succeed with it, had it not been for you.

the silence stretches on, thick and heavy. at some point, you roll onto your side, your back to hers too, determined to get some sleep, yet to no avail. you hear it before she speaks: the faintest shift of the mattress as jackie turns.

“are you awake?” she murmurs, her voice hesitant.

you don’t answer right away, torn between wanting to keep your distance and the part of you that aches to close the gap between you. finally, you whisper, “yeah”

she falls silent for a moment, and you can almost sense her weighing whether or not to say more.

you hear movement in the dark, and you’re about to turn when the mattress dips by your legs where jackie has sat. ”i didn’t mean what i said earlier. about not wanting to be here“

you swallow hard, your heart thudding in your chest. you don’t dare to turn and look at her. “then why say it?”

jackie hesitates. you can feel her shift closer, the warmth of her body radiating against your back. a part of you wants to push her away. another, stronger and more determined part wants her endlessly closer. “because it’s easier,” she admits quietly. you force yourself to fight against the shiver that threatens to run down your back when she curls up against you, her breath warm on your shoulder blade. “it’s easier to push you away than…than deal with any of this”

her words hang in the air, and you find yourself turning to face her. the darkness between you doing nothing to hide the vulnerability in her expression from this close. this, you realize as you take in jackie’s features, is the most vulnerable she’s ever been around you.

“how do you feel?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

jackie’s gaze drops, her fingers curling into the edge of the blanket between you. “i don’t know,” she says, but the tremble in her voice betrays her. “i just know that when i’m with you, everything gets so…complicated”

you reach out, your hand brushing against hers. “it doesn’t have to be”

jackie doesn’t move, her eyes locked on yours. then, slowly, tentatively, she closes the distance between you, her lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s equal parts hesitation and longing.

when she finally pulls away, her forehead rests against yours, and she exhales shakily. “this doesn’t change anything,” she whispers. there she is again. the jackie you know. the jackie you will despise again in the morning. the jackie you have, unfortunately, fallen in love with months ago, long before she decided that you were worth to keep around for some occasional hook ups.

you don’t respond verbally. if this is all of her that you’ll get tonight, you will still very much take it.

jackie’s fingertips trace your cheeks as your mouths move together. you’re not even sure who has leaned in first this time, only that you’re kissing her again and that she’s kissing you back just as eagerly.

her lips are so soft against yours it’s unfair, yet they’re demanding and hungry, ravishing your mouth in a way you never dared to imagine. simultaneously, her hands are running all over you, wherever jackie can reach. frustrated with how restrictive these blankets are, she grunts and pushes them aside.

with the newfound space, she smoothly slides on top of you, your legs tangling together on the plain bedsheets.

“come here” she murmurs, closing the distance between you again. you part your lips almost immediately, giving in to all that stupid, pent-up hunger.

it’s not long after, that you try bucking your hips upward, chasing after a pressure she is not yet providing. jackie has never been one to give. you can remember the one single time where she’s actually shoved her hand down your pants. it’d been in the back of your car, from a slightly awkward angle and without much aftercare to it. but it had been, to this day, one of your best orgasms simply because it was jackie taylor’s hand that had been touching you that night. to this day, it is what you think back to when you’re alone in your room.

now, she seems oddly eager to touch you. except this time, you realize, you have time. there are no parents anywhere nearby, no jeff that could catch or overhear you. just the two of you, in the middle of the night.

maybe coach martinez had, unknowingly done you the biggest favor of your lifetime.

you bite your lip when jackie leans back to look down at you. her hair is a mess, her chest heaving with how hard she’s panting.

one tug is all it takes before she’s all over you again, caging you in between her forearms on either side of your head. you bury your hands in her hair and allow yourself to pretend that any of this is normal.

her shirt comes off first, tossed off the bed carelessly. you sit before her, hands roaming her sides, eyes glued to her chest. yours is next and jackie seems almost impatient to peel it off of you. once you’re both topless, she pushes you back into the mattress and straddles your hips.

you moan into her mouth when her bare breasts slide up against yours. eager to feel more of this, for as long as she lets you, you arch your back up against jackie. she groans softly into your mouth, the noise shooting straight between your legs.

“jackie” you manage. your fingers have, without you even noticing, wrapped around her forearms in a silent plea for her to stay this close. you only let go when she puts her mouth to the side of your neck and sucks.

well, this is new, you briefly think. jackie, for obvious reasons, never lets you mark her up at all. but you didn’t think of her as one to be into leaving hickeys. how you’ll cover them in the morning is a problem for your future self. for now, you just don’t want her to stop. whatever has gotten into her tonight, you want more of it.

“jackie” you sigh again, more urgency in your voice this time. “touch me”

she leans back from where she had her face buried in the crook of your neck. for a moment, as your hand slides from the back of her head, you think you’ve messed it all up. you’d been playing with fire from the start. and now you’ve pushed her too far, asked for too much. then, an unfamiliar determination flickers over jackie’s face, and her fingers drop down to your shorts.

“holy shit” you can’t help but mutter when she, unlike what you expected, doesn’t immediately shove her hand down past the waistline. instead, jackie pushes them all the way down your legs with your help, leaving you in your underwear. she watches as you kick them off, then turns back to face you. you do notice that she’s purposefully not looking right at you, but you don’t mind it all that much when she settles down beside you and runs her flat palm down your body.

her fingers briefly brush over your nipples but don’t waste any time to get to where you both want them the most. you’ve learned to love jackie in the quiet, stolen moments in between. you can’t miss anything you’ve never had and only the comfort of a bed and a room all to yourselves seems too luxurious to be true. you’re not going to ruin this for yourself by getting caught up in the lack of proper foreplay.

you involuntarily spread your legs wider for jackie when she reaches your underwear and you can feel her smile against the side of your neck, where she’s resting her head.

when her index finger runs over the fabric there, her mouth falls open. she must feel the wet patch of your arousal.

“you’re so-“ she gasps, just barely managing to cut herself off in time. jackie taylor doesn’t speak to you while she gets you off. she clears her throat and makes up by finally pushing your underwear aside.

you have to slam a hand over your mouth so your next-door neighbors won’t hear the sound you make when jackie circles your clit for the first time. she’s deliberate, her wrist moving in firm, clockwise circular motions.

the blankets rustle quietly as she adjusts, propping her weight down on one hand as she lingers above you and watches, then presses down harder.

your head falls back into the pillows and your jaw goes slack. to your surprise, jackie’s expression is a reflection of your own: her mouth hangs open as though she’s the one who’s getting touched, and her eyes are heavy as they study your reactions. just by the way she’s touching you, you wouldn’t know that this is only her second time doing this. she must've been attentive to the way you've been touching her during all of your past hook-ups.

you can feel how wet you’re getting -embarrassingly fast. her fingers slide over you in no time whatsoever, gathering your arousal on them before pushing it up and over your clit.

a shuddered breath falls from your lips. jackie is still watching you, alternating between your face (yet never your eyes) and where her hand is moving between your legs.

she keeps this up until you can feel her in every single nerve ending. whether jackie knows this or not, though something tells you that she does, this is not quite enough to make you cum. it’s merely enough to get you towards that edge, toeing it, yet never falling over. the pressure isn’t hard enough, the sensation too brief.

in spite of yourself, you begin to rock your hips into her hand. at this point, you’re so wet it’s dripping through your underwear. there’s no reason to hide your own desperation anymore when she can feel it herself.

“jackie-“ you gasp. it’s tortuously good.

the first time she looks into your eyes that night is when she dips her soaked finger lower and pushes it inside. the moan that you let out at this is definitely too loud for a packed hotel, but she makes no attempt to hush you.

you can feel the place where jackie's pebbled nipples press against you, every inch of exposed skin curled up with your own, and her breath fans against your earlobe. you’re half convinced you’re only imagining it when she whispers: “you like this?”

you hardly hear the words at all, drowned out by your own, mindless gasps and the sounds coming from where jackie is pounding into you; the obscenely slick noises.

she’s deep. she’s so deep inside of you, her delicate fingers pressing deeper than she’s ever been before. it’s the first time you actually feel her there and that alone is enough for your eyes to roll back in your head.

“yeah” you manage just so.

“yeah?” jackie pouts, almost mockingly, forcing them inside some more.

“oh my god” is all you can say to that.

usually, it would be you touching her. this is one of those rare occasions where the roles are reversed. where jackie gets to touch you. to fuck you, really: she's pressing her hips against you from where she’s lingering on top, draws them back as she does the same with her hand, then snaps them back immediately the moment she pumps her fingers into you. like she’s really fucking you, you think.

it briefly occurs to you that maybe, if jackie is so eager for this, you’ll have to invest in a strap so that you can fill each other up properly. then again, it would probably be too much to bring this idea up to her. you’ll consider yourself lucky if she so much as looks at you after tonight.

as soon as jackie’s third finger slips into you, you no longer bother to even try and hold your head up. she’s never fucked you like that and you’ll spend the rest of your life wishing for this feeling back.

she’s steadily pressing, curling, and exploring with three of her fingers and all you can do is chant cries of her name as you try to ride her hand.

your head falls to the side, into the pillows. a necessary but pointless try to stifle your moans.

“jackie please”

you can hear her mumbling words of “that’s it” and “take it” against your temple but it’s white noise to what you feel when her thumb finds your clit, rubbing in fast circles that match the brutal pace she’s set. even jackie is panting now. her wrists must be aching, at this rate, but she’s not stopping. you wonder if she’s as wet for you as you are for her. you know how easy it is to get her wet. so she must be, it wouldn’t surprise you if she’s stained your bed.

in the end, these aren’t the thoughts that push you over the edge. it’s jackie’s voice urging you to “cum” to “please cum for me”.

the rest of the world blurs in and out of focus and, for as long as your orgasm lasts, there’s nothing but the pleasure that explodes in your abdomen and leaves you shaking on the mattress.

you choke out a moan as it washes over you. jackie is watching you, her mouth hanging open like it only dawns upon her now that she's got this kind of effect on you.

even as the pleasure starts to fade, your thighs are still shaking. jackie is almost hesitant about lifting her hand from between your legs, though she makes a point of not looking down at your arousal on her before she wipes it off on the mattress.

“holy shit” you mutter, staring at the ceiling above and dropping the weight of your head back onto the pillows. your whole body feels ten times lighter than it did mere minutes ago.

reality sinks in soon enough though.

after another deep breath, you turn to jackie. she's still sitting on your mattress, but her bare back is turned to you. stupidly enough, you try to reach out. she senses the movement and shoots you a sharp glance, so your hand freezes mid-air, never reaching her.

“don't” the sharpness in her voice has no right to sting the way it does. you pull your hand back, uselessly dropping it onto the mattress.

“jackie...”

“i said don't" she snaps all over again. "it's better this way”

better for who? you wonder. the question burns but you force yourself to bite it back. there's no point in trying to push her further. you watch jackie reach for her discarded clothes on the floor. her movements are hurried as she pulls her shirt back over her head. like if she's frantic enough about it, it'll all go away.

“was it something i-” “no,” she immediately interrupts. with her shirt back on, she stands. “don’t make this into something it’s not”

“jackie you don’t have to-“

“this didn’t mean anything” she interjects all over again. “we shouldn’t have…it was a mistake, okay? it won’t happen again”

“a mistake?”

it’s not the first time jackie calls it that. for a ‘mistake’ she’s been coming back a surprising amount of times. yet it always comes down to this.

“i don’t want to talk about it,” she snaps, her arms cross defensively over her chest as she turns toward her bed. “we have nationals tomorrow. we need to focus”

“are you serious right now?” your voice rises slightly. “jackie, you can’t just-“

“i can,” she says firmly. “and i am”

you sit there, half naked and stunned into silence as jackie climbs into her own bed and pulls the covers up to her chin, facing the wall so you can’t see her expression. her breathing is shaky, though, and you can tell she’s trying hard to steady it.

“fine,” you say stubbornly when you realize she’s actually serious. “pretend it didn’t happen. pretend it didn’t mean anything to you”

jackie doesn’t respond.

you sit in the stillness for what feels like an eternity. as you finally settle under the covers, your back turned to her, you hear jackie’s voice:

“stay away from me. for the rest of this trip”

you swallow hard, blinking back the sting in your eyes. “got it,” you whisper.

then, you just lay there, staring at the ceiling and listening to the sound of her breathing. jackie doesn’t move, and neither do you. whatever you’d hoped might come from tonight has slipped right through your fingers.

eventually, jackie’s breathing evens out, and you wonder if she’s actually asleep or just pretending. either way, you close your eyes, trying to make the hurt fade.

[clownzaf]

I know that people love to headcanon Tim as a child of Athena, I personally like to headcanon him as child of Hades due to his similarities with Nico and the fact that dead seems to follow that kid like a motherfucker but never actually reach HIM.

But hear me out.

Tim as a child of Dionysus. And he gets claimed during the Bruce-quest.

When he was in Gotham monsters were a usual thing. You never knew that they were there for your godly blood, you just thought that they were things created by pollution or something like that. And when he became Robin fighting things that wanted to kill you while saying weird things was more usual than a hug (not that that was a hug standard for Tim).

But then everyone started dying. His parents, Kon, Bart, Steph, BRUCE. Everyone. Every. One.

And Tim…Tim couldn’t seem to reach madness. I mean YEAH he wasn’t doing great by any standard, but he knew madness, he grew up in madness, and he wasn’t going mad.

The cloning was just a treat.

And during the Bruce-quest, everyone thought he was crazy, he was casted away because everyone thought he was crazy CRAZY Tim can’t he crazy! He knows that! He knows that in his blood that going crazy isn’t a chance for him. He made everyone crazy when they were around him (hence Jason. He knew that Jason was mad at him from the start, but going near Tim lighted a flame inside him that Tim is sure isn’t completely Jason’s) but Tim couldn’t go crazy. He could ACT crazy. But never too serious.

And then, in the depths of Greece, he met his dad. His real dad.

He always knew that Jake wasn’t his dad. The blonde hair his mother forced him to dye since he was 5 and the purple eyes his father forced him to hide with contacts told him that. But Tim grew up looking up at Jack, even if Jack didn’t love him, he was the dad that decided to (figuratively) stay. And Tim loved him till death.

But when that man appeared, Tim knew, with only a moment of stares, that that man was his father. They talked a bit, too. The man knew about everything Tim was doing, and that creeped Tim out, but when the man made appear a glass of wine for Tim (and one side for himself) and Tim drank it, he knew what he was.

Something on the flavor, on the feeling. It was Tim. It was home. Something he hadn’t feel in a long time.

He spent the rest of the quest feeling sure that he would make it, because somewhere on the heavens his dad was looking out for him, he promised he was. And this time it wasn’t a figuratively sentimental bullshit. His dad was really helping on the heavens. And Tim was gonna make it.

He saw him again when the quest ended. He appeared in all of his godly glory while Tim was living in the nest. He opened a can of soda and sat on his couch like he wasn’t a man Tim has only met twice, but that was ok, because that was his dad, and he was choosing to visit him. (Also, he wasn’t going to say no to a literal GOD) .

He yapped for two hours about the kids at the camp his dad forced him to work at ( “HE IS SUCH AN A-HOLE SOMETIMES TIM YOU DONT UNDERSTAND-“) and the more he talked about that camp, the more invested Tim got. At the end of it the man, his dad, just looked at him in the eye and said “y’know if you were there we could do this more often. Yer a better listener than that centaur. Also, I think your brothers would like having you there”

He leaves immediately for camp after that. The family thinks Tim decided to leave them for not believing in him, so it’s a shock when he comes back after the summer being great with a sword and with a Tan his skin haven’t known before, not even after fighting crime during the hottest days on San Francisco, and he was happy, like actually happy. A kind of happy he never was with them.

Tim made friends there. He was friends with Annabeth, a girl from the Athena cabin, who honestly thought that Tim was one of them after they had a talk about strategies on the field and all that, and was about to fist fight Dionysus for claiming one of her brothers. She still called him brother, but now she understood that Tim was a Dionysus kid. And her boyfriend Percy. They talked all night about the weight of being a leader and having your people die without you being able to do anything. Percy talked about a boy named Ethan and two girls named Zoe and Bianca. Tim talked about Steph, Kon and Bart.

Tim told him about the Bruce-quest, and Percy told him about the time he was ready to fist fight a good to get his mother back from the underworld.

He also fully loved his brother. Pollux was great and made him feel welcomed to camp. They talked during lunch and Pollux showed him every single thing that made camp especial. He also teached him how to make fun of their dad without turning into a dolphin, so yeah. They got along like a house on fire.

He also made friends with a girl from the Aphrodite cabin. Her name is Drew. She was kind of an asshole and tried flirting with him, and THEY DID GET TOGETHER FOR A BIT, but after some time they decided they were better as friends. And friends they were. Best friend even.

He never told the Batfam any of this.

So after some months in Gotham there’s a cult going around calling themselves “Children of Dionysus” and doing atrocious things.

Duke walked in on Tim trashing the training room of the cave, and later on Jason walked in on Tim having his fourth bottle of wine.

Tim was FURIOUS. Not only that was disrespectful to his dad, but to his brother and himself too. He was going to pick every part of that little cult and trash it.

There he meets Bernard. Then they get on a relationship.

When a sathyr comes to take Bernard to camp Tim goes with him, excited to have his dad meeting his boyfriend.

Dionysus has never been more uncomfortable than when he had to claim his son’s boyfriend in front of him. It wasn’t that hard before! But now they had those things against incest on the human world and he knew this wouldn’t be pleasant to any of his sons.

[cosmerelists]

Ranking Cosmere Families Based Whether I'd Want to Attend Their Thanksgiving Dinner

If they, you know, actually celebrated Thanksgiving or if I existed in their universe and could attend. But anyway.

[Last Thanksgiving special: How They'd Cook a Turkey]

1. Kholin Family Dinner: No Thank You

Let the various eras of the Kholin family spread out before you: is there ANY iteration of that family whose Thanksgiving Dinner you'd want to attend? We have the Blackthorn Era, where Dalinar is getting drunk and trying not to make eyes at his brother's wife and also Sadeas is probably there. We have Way of Kings era where Dalinar thinks he might be going crazy and is always in a lowkey fight with Adolin. We have post-Oathbringer where you sit at that table knowing that Dalinar killed his kids' mother. Is there any moment when a Kholin family dinner wouldn't be awkward for a guest? Even Shallan being there isn't enough to win me over. I'm staying home.

2. Kelsier's Crew: Sure!

I think a holiday dinner with Kelsier's crew would actually be delightful. I think that whatever else they had going on at the time, they'd make an effort to put that aside and have a good time.

3. Kiin's Family Dinner: Hell yeah

Kiin (Sarene's uncle in Elantris) is canonically an amazing cook. Like, I'd LOVE to be at their family dinner. Plus, Sarene seems to have a nice time hanging out with them. Sure their kids squabble a bit, but nothing major.

4. Stormblessed Family Dinner: M-Maybe?

I feel like this is strongly era-dependent. Join them when Kaladin and Tien are kids? Yeah, I think that would be all right. There might be tension between Lirin and Kaladin, but Hesina and Tien are there to defuse it. After the two kids are taken to war? I-I'm leaving that couple alone to grieve, I think. Post-Kaladin-Radiant time? That's REALLY book-dependent. Got weird between Kaladin & Lirin for a while there. I don't want to be there for their yearly argument about whether it's ever okay to kill someone. Maybe I'll just help Hesina in the kitchen.

5. Tress Family Dinner: Definitely!

Yeah! Tress is a great cook, her parents are AWESOME, and if Charlie is there too, all the better. Like, this one is a no-brainer yes please.

6. Bridge 4 Dinner: Yeah!

Especially if it's post-Radiants, so that (a) we're not all enslaved in Sadeas' war camp and (b) there are women too. I bet Rock's Thanksgiving stew would be delicious. Kaladin would be late, but you know what, it's okay. He's very busy.

7. Court of the Gods Thanksgiving Dinner: Maybe If I Were Younger...

Listen, I'm sure it's a raucous good time. There's lots of food, it's really good, everyone looks hot, and everyone is very drunk. Not REALLY my scene, though. I might go if I were invited, but if Tress's family had already offered, I mean...

8. Idrian Royal Family Dinner: I'll Pass

For one thing, I feel like the food would not be very good since my impression of Idris is that everything is...gray. But even beyond that, the family dynamics do not sound fun. I mean, their dad sold his least favorite daughter into what he thought was deadly sex slavery. Their mom doesn't even have a name. It just feels so awkward.

9. Noodle Shop Thanksgiving Dinner: Yeah!

Going out to eat is a great way to not have to cook for Thanksgiving dinner. And Design's Noodle shop--or even later under the new owners--feels like a great place to get some food. Depending on why I'm there, I might even get some free sympathy noodles if I have nowhere else to go! Y-Yay!

10. Lopen Family Dinner: Yes!

I definitely would say yes if invited to eat with Lopen and his many cousins. Remember when Elhokar was there for a minute, and Lopen's mother kept making him eat more? I am going to be SO STUFFED and it is going to be SO worth it.

11. Ladrian Family Dinner: Totally

I'd love to have dinner with Wax and Steris and presumably Wayne and Marasi and possibly MeLaan! I bet the place settings will be fancy and that I'll have to bone up on my etiquette rules--but then, Wayne will be there so surely my using the wrong fork will go largely unnoticed. Anyway, these people seem pretty fun to hang out with, and I bet the food and whiskey are both good.

12. Montane Family Dinner: S-Sorry, Can't Make It...

As much as I love Threnody as a concept, I don't want to hang out in a small circle of silver-ringed "safety" while knowing that murderous ghosts await any mistake outside. I just don't feel like it would be a relaxing time. Plus, you know, Silence's grandmother is literally a ghost in a locked room like right over there. That's a family dynamic I don't care to experience.

[yuurei20]

Lilia Facts Part 38: Lilia and Leona (pt2)

Lilia appears at the end of Book 2 to reveal that he had a hand in compromising Leona’s plan.

After Leona has already been restrained, Lilia insults him to the point that he overblots.

Riddle asks Lilia to fetch the teachers and Lilia agrees, saying, “Stay strong until I return!,” but we never seen him come back, which connects to various theories.

The drama of Book 2 goes largely unmentioned in the main story until Book 7, where both Riddle and Jack thank Lilia for his assistance.

Lilia assures Azul that his gift of a seafood dish and dessert for the party “makes (them) even for the time (Azul) aided the lion cub and his accomplice at the Spelldrive tournament,” and Azul claims that he hasn’t the slightest idea what Lilia is talking about.

Lilia is surprised Leona chooses to make an appearance at the party, saying he is glad for it.

Leona says, “When the bat flappin' around the lizard told me to show my face one last time, I figured he wanted some long-overdue payback. I was actually lookin' forward to it. I didn't expect an actual party with food and drinks.”

This seems to insinuate that Lilia invited Leona personally to the party, though whether or not Leona sincerely assumed it was meant to be an ambush is unclear, as Leona is very sarcastic.

Lilia explains that he has “long since moved past what happened at the Spelldrive tournament” and he has his own regrets, wishing that he had shown more maturity.

Lilia suggests that they both call it water under the bridge and Leona responds with, “You know the best part about today? It'll be the last time I ever see that shifty mug of yours.”

Ruggie says that he would actually have preferred that Lilia stayed around until graduation, because, “with him gone, who's gonna chaperone Malleus?”

Lilia recommends that they just let sleeping dragons lie and Leona tries to excuse himself, but Ruggie refuses to leave the free food behind. Lilia observes, “A soldier who can still eat his fill when standing in an enemy camp is a formidable one indeed,” and encourages Leona to enjoy himself.

Lilia seems fond of Ruggie in his own way, following him around during the Spectral Soiree halloween party because it is so pleasant to watch him eat and saying that Ruggie’s culinary adventure intrigues him.

[perdidosbucky-yyo]

I apologize in advance for the person this fic turned me into 😮‍💨😍😩

Bucky’s hand reaches out to touch you, your heart skipping a beat as he adjusts the strap of your dress on your shoulder. His touch lingers for a second more

“Can you blame me, baby? You walk in and suddenly it's like no one else exists,” his tone is softer, yet serious when he says this. Your heart skipped a beat when he called you baby. The weight of his attention felt in every fiber of your being. Bucky only ever called you baby when he wanted to really affect you. Reminding you of the pull he had over you.  

THE SEXUAL TENSION IS PALPABLE and Bucky is so charming 🤭

Bucky clicks his tongue as he eyes you closely, “I didn’t, but I felt like it,” he shrugs cooly. “Didn't like the way he was looking at you.” He adds, his thumb rubbing small circles on your waist.

I-

God damn he is just yummy and so protective 🥹🥵

Almost instantly, a protective grip pulls you away from the drunk guy. A familiar warmth encases you as Bucky pulls you into his chest, your back to him. Your hands find their way to hold his arms to ease the displeasure the drunk had caused

“What the—what’s your problem bro? We’re just—” Bucky doesn’t let him finish, “Shut up. You’re not doing anything. You’ve got two seconds to back off or we’re going to have a problem,”

 “You and your compliments,” you give a breathless laugh, letting your guard down for once and going with the flow. Bucky can sense it. Sense the way there’s a shift between you, the blossoming of something bigger being accepted and not pushed away by you anymore.

“Plus, if I’m going to fall for the most beautiful girl in the world, I have to know how to fight right?” Bucky says this like it's the most obvious thing, smirking at the way you don’t hide the smitten grin he elicits from you.

This made me feel bubbly and warm 🤭 I would be constantly blushing next to that man

“Only for my girl,” he says this like a promise. His right-hand goes up to gently brush against your cheek. You lean into the touch, that same hand cupping your cheek in response.

In the clear slot where his identification should be is a polaroid picture from the weekend camping trip. You’re in that picture sitting next to Bucky on a couple of logs surrounded by your friends and peers. There’s a bright smile on Bucky’s face, his arm around your shoulder as you make bunny ears behind his head.

“If you want something use your words, sweetheart,” he mutters against your lips, you suppress a groan, “You know what I want. I don't have to say it,” you retort impatiently. Bucky shakes his head, smiling despite himself, “I want to hear you say it,” he dips his head to the crook of your neck, his teeth nipping at the skin. The hands on your ass give it a light squeeze emitting a small gasp from you. You can feel the shit-eating grin on your neck.

👁️👄👁️ I want this energy I need it, I love the way you write

“Y/n, I…I wanted to give you some time. Time to figure things out—to figure out what you wanted. I tried pretending I was okay with pieces of you, but I’m not. I want all of you. I want to be yours,” Bucky confesses with sincerity. You reach out to interlock your hands with his, a floodgate of emotions engulfing you. 

JUST WHEN THINGS CAN'T GET ANY HOTTER WE GET THIS FLUFFY MOMENT I LOVE IT😭

He is so needy and precious and he knows what he wants and I love it I love it I love it

Lines Crossed

Pairing: Athlete!Bucky Barnes x Artist!Reader (College AU)

Summary: You and Bucky have danced around the lines you've placed ever since that weekend camping trip. Months later, when Tony Stark hosts an extravagant party, he finally makes a move to cross them.

Word Count: 9.3k

Warning(s): 18+ mdni / drinking / jealousy / forced proximity / smut / female reader / drunk jerk (stranger) / tension / will they won't they oh they will 🫣❤️‍🔥 / sex w/protection / pet names / sprinkles of possessive + protective Bucky so be prepared / there's a build-up so enjoy ❣️

Prompt: oops, we were just hiding in this closet, but then the close proximity get us too turned on not to fuck

a/n: Please be kind this is my first time writing something like this. 🥺🩶 I decided to challenge myself and join @mercurial-chuckles‘ smutty September fest. A tad late on the deadline because Hurricane Helene decided to take the power out. 😭 This is a standalone fic, but you can most definitely read it (and is intended to be) as a continuation of the events of A Night of Frights & Delights. Likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!! ❤️❤️

part one backstory // divider // ambiance 🤍

You step into the foyer of the Stark Manor, a grand staircase greets you, its golden railing glowing underneath an ornate chandelier. Various guests mingle around the manor, the buzz of conversation accompanying the music that pulses throughout. Everything about the sight in front of you screams old wealth and elegance. 

Your eyes scan the luxurious home with an expression of awe. Despite being invited before, you had never come to one of Tony’s parties. Choosing the comfort of your bed and your favorite show instead. However, this time knowing a certain captain of the baseball team would be here—and your history with him—well you just had to come. 

As you take it all in, your gaze locks on a pair of beautiful blues. The very same ones you were thinking of all day. And by the way he was looking at you, you knew he was awaiting your arrival just as much as you had been waiting to see him. 

There was no denying he most certainly had been. 

Bucky had arrived about half an hour earlier with some of his teammates. His impatience grew by the second at your absence. He was dying to see what you wore for the party. You denied him any sneak peeks, which only fueled his excitement. He tried distracting himself by greeting anyone he could and making conversation, but he continuously gravitated to the foyer, waiting for the moment you stepped in through those doors. 

When you finally did, Bucky knew with the utmost certainty that the wait was worth it. When his eyes met yours you knocked the air straight out of his lungs with the black dress you were wearing. The satin dawning your body accentuated your silhouette perfectly—and the high slit at your right leg showed off the right amount of skin. The way you did your hair and your makeup complimented you perfectly, and Bucky was losing his goddamn mind because of it.  

Sincerely, he was close to whisking you away and keeping you all to himself. 

You looked nothing short of beyond stunning. Bucky had been holding back for months, staying within the lines you drew that night in the tent, and honestly, he deserved a medal for that. It’s the hardest thing he's ever done. What he felt for you couldn’t measure up to anything else in his life. Never had he felt so over the moon in his feelings for anyone. Yet, you brought on those sentiments by just being you. He was sure if he wasn’t in love with you yet, he was damn near close to it. 

And right now, seeing you in that dress, his mind is going to places it shouldn’t. Places that only belonged to him and his bed on those nights you left him wanting more. Thoughts and scenarios where the night ends with him tearing that dress right off you and showing you just how serious he is about wanting you. 

He’s not so sure he can be on his best behavior tonight. 

Bucky discards the drink he had been holding and saunters over to you. Your heart races in your chest when you see the way his blues darken when he rakes his eyes over your form—shamelessly drinking you up. You take in his figure as well, the all-black suit giving him an aura of class and sophistication that was stirring something dangerous within you. 

Bucky cleaned up good, real good.

He stops a mere foot away from you, his eyes twinkling with intentions both of you long for. You didn’t realize you had been holding your breath until his voice broke you out of your trance. 

“There’s no way I’m letting you leave my side tonight, not in that dress,” Bucky’s voice is deeper than usual, contrasting the charming grin on his face. You roll your eyes playfully, “I don’t need a babysitter, Bucky,” you reply amused at the thought. Having Bucky by your side all night would definitely lead to you two enjoying each other’s company in other ways. 

Not that you would object if it did. 

Bucky’s hand reaches out to touch you, your heart skipping a beat as he adjusts the strap of your dress on your shoulder. His touch lingers for a second more as a light chuckle escapes him. “Maybe not you sweetheart, but I might. Someone’s going to have to keep me in check tonight. I already have a hard enough time keeping my hands off of you and now you walk in looking like a masterpiece and I'm supposed to keep my hands to myself?” He bites his bottom lip for a moment, almost as if to stop himself from saying too much. 

“Something tells me you’re going to lay it on thick tonight, aren't you?” You tease him, all the while your body thrums with the way he compliments you. Bucky always knows exactly what to say to make you feel like the only girl in the room. An effortless gift he had only when it came to you.

“Can you blame me, baby? You walk in and suddenly it's like no one else exists,” his tone is softer, yet serious when he says this. Your heart skipped a beat when he called you baby. The weight of his attention felt in every fiber of your being. Bucky only ever called you baby when he wanted to really affect you. Reminding you of the pull he had over you.  

The spell you two were under was suddenly broken by Darcy, who rushed over to where you were standing and linked your arm with hers. “Sorry! I’m going to steal her away for a bit there Bucky!” She says unapologetically as she tears you away from the man who looks like he could have devoured you if your friend hadn't interrupted. Your protests fall on deaf ears so you're left waving a small—but not definite—farewell to Bucky. 

It seemed Bucky’s friends had been waiting for the right moment to steal him away too. As soon as you were in another room Sam and Steve went up to Bucky and dragged him to whatever antics the baseball team was up to. His disappointment matches yours, but if there was one thing he had proven all these months was that he had a lot of patience. He knew you two would end up crossing each other’s paths more than once tonight. It was only a matter of time. 

“You forgot you promised to stick by my side tonight. My ex is here, I need the support,” Darcy reminds you with a slight pout. She looks like a ball of fire with the way she pulls you through the crowd in her crimson dress. Her eyes dart to every guest looking to avoid her ex at all costs.

“I didn’t forget. I was just saying hi to a friend,” you explain emitting a snort from Darcy, “A friend? If he’s just a friend than I’m the Queen of England.” You roll your eyes, a small huff of a laugh leaving your lips. Darcy wasn’t wrong. You and Bucky weren’t just friends, but you also weren’t anything more—and that was by your account. 

You and Bucky have fallen into a grey area of what you are to each other. At first, after the camping trip, you tried avoiding him. Not because what happened upset you—but because you couldn’t trust yourself around him after that. Making out with him in that tent made you realize that what you thought had been an annoyance towards Bucky was actually the beginning of a deep-rooted crush. One that bubbled to the surface after that night. 

Avoiding him altogether was an impossible task when he lived in the other apartment in the duplex you rented. Especially after he insisted on giving you rides back and forth from campus with the excuse that now that you two were friends it's only natural for him to be more friendly. By his definition, it also included things like buying you food on days he knows you’ve been too busy to get something for yourself, walking you to your classes whenever he has the chance, and going with you to art exhibitions to dabble in your passion with you. 

Oh, and it also included kissing you mercilessly during tutoring sessions. 

Around the time that fall semester began, Bucky asked you if you could tutor him on a few subjects. He hadn’t done the greatest academically last semester and he wanted to keep his grades up before baseball season started. You were hesitant at first, but ultimately gave in when you realized how sincere he was about needing the help. 

Tutoring Bucky meant spending lots of time with him after classes. The sessions were innocent at first, but after the first time kissing on your bed, Bucky made it a tradition to have his lips on yours, and his hands wandering your body at every session. He even stopped hosting parties at his place, preferring being in your room and getting drunk on the taste of you. 

Bucky was too infatuated by you to ever want to do anything else. Studying was an afterthought whenever you were around, and yet he was doing better than he ever had before in all his classes. Being someone you could be proud of was honestly the best motivation he could ask for. 

Deep down you knew you were falling for him. There was a bit of apprehension on your part as you hadn’t known Bucky to ever have a girlfriend. From what you can remember, ever since you’ve known him, he was the kind of guy who preferred flirting and casual encounters. And there was no guarantee you would be the one to break that. So to keep yourself safe you drew those lines—built those walls up high to guard your heart. Bucky respected those lines and never crossed them. No matter how badly he wanted to. 

Some days, like today, made you want to say screw the lines and just give in to what you desired most. However, when that desire included lowering those walls you put in place, you weren’t brave enough to risk it—so you didn’t. Instead, you and Bucky danced around those lines until it drove you both mad. 

Your thoughts follow you for the next hour as you stay by Darcy’s side. Bucky has this natural way of consuming your mind lately—and your sketchbook. You wish you had it with you right now because when your feelings decide to overflow you channel that intensity onto the paper. For months, every page had been filled with graphite drawings of Bucky. His smile, his eyes, his determined expression when studying, his confident stance during baseball games, and everything else that sparked the creative fire in you. You found a lot of solace in drawing him. 

Bucky was undoubtedly your favorite muse. 

You're so lost in your thoughts you don’t register you’re in the kitchen of the manor until the guests around you cheer. It seems Darcy and Thor have fallen into a friendly competition of sorts to see who could down more shots than the other in one minute. A group of spectators and friends have gathered in the kitchen to watch the showdown go down. Your eyes dart to Jane who only gives you a half-amused, half-exasperated look. She is not looking forward to having to drive those two home later.

Contrary to your friends, you weren’t drinking much tonight. Bucky’s lingering presence at the party was all your senses needed to feel like you were in a daze. For appearances, however, you decide to grab one of the red solo cups to blend in with the rest of those around you. 

“Hey, Y/n! Enjoying the party?” A male’s voice comes from your right and when you turn to see who it is a friendly smile appears on your face. It was Ian Boothby, a fellow art major at your university. You’ve had him in enough of your classes to consider him a friend. 

“Hey, Ian. Yeah, I’m having a good time. Are you?” Your question is a catalyst for a much longer chat with Ian. The two of you fall into light conversation about the semester, art, and other relevant topics. It's a nice breath of fresh air compared to the thoughts that had been consuming you tonight. Especially when he tells you the story of one of his painting mishaps causing you to laugh along with him.

Soon after, a hand snakes its way around your waist, and when you smell that familiar woody muskiness you know exactly who it is. 

“Having fun without me, sweetheart?” Bucky’s voice has a slight edge to it as he speaks, his lips forming a smirk. You face him and the look in his eyes stills you. 

Bucky does not look pleased. 

“Bucky, hey man. How’s baseball prep?” Ian beats you to it by addressing Bucky first. Bucky's eyes flick between you and Ian before he presses you into his side by the hold on your waist. This does not go unnoticed by Ian.

“Boothby, it's going good. How’s the cross-country season treating you?” Bucky asks, his tone giving away how uninterested he is in continuing this conversation. If Ian picks up on the animosity he doesn’t show it as he goes on and on about the sport. Bucky’s impatience grows the more he speaks and his hold on you gets a little more firm. When Bucky’s expression finally gives way to how he genuinely feels Ian finds a way to excuse himself and exit the conversation.

A beat passes before you finally speak, “Ian’s my friend. You didn’t have to scare him off like that,” you say with slight annoyance. Bucky clicks his tongue as he eyes you closely, “I didn’t, but I felt like it,” he shrugs cooly. “Didn't like the way he was looking at you.” He adds, his thumb rubbing small circles on your waist.

“Oh? And how was he looking at me?” 

“Like in the way only I should be.” 

The possessiveness in his voice catches you off guard. The air electrifying around you both at his words. You weren’t going to drink, but you suddenly felt the need to. You take a sip of the substance in your cup, the bitter liquid doing little to ground you. Bucky can tell how he’s affecting you and joins you with his drink. His eyes never leave yours as he gulps some of it down. 

You have to stop yourself from inhaling the entire thing in one go. 

“Ian’s harmless. He’s just comfortable with me because he’s an art major too. I’ve had a lot of classes with him,” you do your best to continue the conversation and ignore the way your body heats up when Bucky gives your hip a possessive squeeze. Massaging the area afterward in gentle strokes.

“You do a lot of bonding over paint?” Bucky’s response is slightly mocking, licking his lips to catch a drop of alcohol that wanted to escape. His eyes twinkle with mischief as he relishes the way you're looking at him now. Your gaze trained on his lips. When you realize he’s noticed, the heat from your body goes straight to your face.

You wouldn’t let him have the upper hand though. Never. 

“Well, when you have to sketch someone’s naked body you obviously become friendly,” your reply causes Bucky to choke on his drink, the hand at your hip falling as he uses it to grab a few napkins from the granite counter behind him to wipe at the mess he made. You hide a wicked grin behind the rim of your cup. 

He narrows his eyes at you, “Excuse me? What does that mean?” He knows what you mean, but he’s giving you a chance to tell him you're joking. He’s not hiding the jealousy that crawls up his spine at your revelation. 

“It means Ian’s a nude model for some of my classes. He may not look like it but underneath those layers, he’s got the most gorgeous—” Bucky cuts you off with a fierce kiss, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you into him. There’s been plenty of times you’ve shut him up with your mouth and it was his turn to return the favor. Because hearing you talk about the naked body of another man gets under his skin in ways he wasn’t used to.  He wasn’t going to just stand there and hear another word of it. 

The kiss catches you by surprise, but soon your drink is discarded in favor of pulling him closer by his blazer. Not caring who sees or what anyone thinks, since it’s the first time you’ve ever kissed in front of others. Your craving for him was far too loud to ignore anymore. Your lips stay locked until your lungs burn begging for air.

Bucky pulls away with a smug smile, his voice an octave lower as he moves to whisper in your ear, “You’re playing with fire, sweetheart. I know you love getting a rise out of me, but just so we’re clear—next time you want to mess with me like that—I’ll make sure you can’t even stand after I’m through with you,” his declaration causes a shiver to make its way up your spine. 

You swallow hard, your mouth opening to say something, but no sound comes out. Bucky lets out a rough chuckle, ghosting his lips against your cheek before pulling away to stare at how speechless he’s left you. He’s blatantly savoring every second of it. 

You want to say something—anything. Something witty or playful, but the thought of him making good on his promise—the image it conjures in your mind—keeps you silent.

“Buck! You’re needed at beer pong! Tony’s team is winning and the bet is up to five hundred,” Steve rushes into the kitchen, breaking through the bubble you two were in. His eyes dart between you and Bucky with a knowing look. He has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling at the sight of you two. 

You start to register there’s still an extravagant party happening around you.  

Bucky sighs with slight irritation as he once again gets his moment with you interrupted. He reluctantly tears his attention away from you to call back to Steve, “I’ll be right there!” Steve nods in approval before going back the way he came. 

Now’s your chance to say something, but Bucky pulls away from your body before you can. A coldness replacing where his touch used to be. “Hold that thought, baby. Looks like my team needs their star player,” he winks at you before placing a tender kiss on your forehead, “you keep thinking about what I said while I’m gone,” he says in a gruff whisper, brushing his thumb across your bottom lip in a barely there touch. 

He knows he needs to leave before he takes this somewhere you can’t go back from. 

Bucky doesn’t give you a chance to say anything as he makes a smooth exit. Heading out of the kitchen in the direction of the beer pong game. Your body prickling with an ever growing sexual frustration. You were embarrassingly close to snatching Bucky away and giving in to all your desires in one of the many rooms of the manor. 

“You two need to get a room,” Jane seems to read your mind as she teases you. Appearing from behind you once Bucky was no longer in sight. You can’t deny her words, letting out a small huff, “I don’t know what good that would do. I’ve been clear about not wanting to take things further.” You explain to her, not sure if you could go back on your words for the sake of giving in to what you want now. Jane has had this conversation with you a few times before, and it appears she's hit her limit today. 

 “That man is absolutely head over heels for you. How can you not see that?” Jane shakes her head at you, wondering how she can make you realize what you already know yet deny. There's a vulnerability that overcomes you when you reply, “It’s not that I don’t see it. I just—I’ve never seen him be serious about anyone. The only thing he’s ever serious about is baseball.” Jane looks like she’s about to do something drastic at your denial. 

“Y/n, Bucky is serious about you. He’s literally all about you—he’s chosen you over baseball many times. I’m not around him like you are and even I can see it clear as day. Do you know Thor and like half of the baseball team thinks you two are secretly dating? Stop denying what you know deep down is true and just give in—be happy,” Jane tells it like it is, her tone leaving no room for argument or denial. 

For so long Bucky has shown you another side of him—one not many get to see. He’s given you priority and importance when he didn’t have to. Care and consideration when you needed it most. A shoulder to lean on and a steady support to rely on. Time and time again Bucky has demonstrated how much you mean to him.

Perhaps, you both have been something more to each other for a long time and Bucky’s kept his wishes at bay to make sure things developed at your pace. 

When it finally hits you, you almost feel exposed by how skillfully Jane can read you. At how easily she can see the situation for what it is and not for what your worries twisted it to be. If Bucky had made it clear to you how he felt, what was stopping you from taking things further than they had been before?

At this point, nothing, nothing was stopping you but yourself.

This realization follows you to the dance floor. A very drunk Darcy had pulled you to it along with Jane, babbling tipsily after losing the drinking competition to Thor. You had never seen a living room with such high ceilings before or enough room to host a makeshift dance floor and a DJ booth. The living space had been stripped of its furniture and supplied with top-notch equipment to make it resemble the inside of a club. 

At least in the near darkness, it resembled one.

You’re in a huddle of your closest friends, all of them letting the music guide their movements to their heart’s content. You sway absentmindedly, so you're not merely standing there awkwardly. The kaleidoscope of party lights strobe and kiss your skin with an array of colors as the music thumps around your body. 

A loud cheer catches your attention, the source of the sound coming from a table on the far left end of the room. Tony and his friends were boisterous as they made a shot against their opponent's team in beer pong—Bucky’s team. You had a clear view of it all from where you stood. 

Bucky’s team seems to be taking turns on who drinks every time Tony’s team makes a shot. They look amongst themselves until Bucky steps up and chugs the liquid in the red solo cup. It's like he can feel the shift in the air because as soon as the cup is away from his lips his eyes scan the space and find you, and suddenly it's like you two are the only two people in the room. 

You want him—all of him. You enjoy the teases, the banter, the back and forth, but you know you’d enjoy calling him yours more. 

The music picks up in tempo as your boldness grows. Keeping your eyes trained on him, your hips begin to sway provocatively, tempting him to say screw the game and make his way towards you instead. Bucky’s not even paying attention to the game anymore his eyes soaking up your every move as it fans the flames of desire between you. The atmosphere around you buzzes as the ground shakes due to the sea of dancing bodies, and yet nothing thrums within you more than your need for Bucky. 

The little show you’re putting on for him continues as you roll and wave your body in ways that seduce him. Ghosting your hand along the curves and dips of your figure showing him exactly where you’d like his hands to be. Bucky’s mind is reeling with everything he wants to do to you and none of it involves the dance floor and all of it involves you and him in some private corner of the manor where he can show you exactly what his hands are capable of. 

You are making it impossibly hard for him to concentrate on anything else. 

Slowly and with shady intentions a group of drunk guys circle the huddle of you and your friends like vultures. Finding their way to snake themselves into any corner or crevice they can fit into. Their bodies bumping and grazing against yours. There’s one guy in particular that has his sights set on you. Getting closer to you on the dancefloor and creeping his hands along your waist. You swat his hands away, but he doesn’t disperse immediately. The alcohol on his breath fanning your face causing you to gag. The more you dismiss him the more adamant he was about keeping you close to him. 

Almost instantly, a protective grip pulls you away from the drunk guy. A familiar warmth encases you as Bucky pulls you into his chest, your back to him. Your hands find their way to hold his arms to ease the displeasure the drunk had caused.

Bucky glares at the drunk guy, his gaze cold and unapologetic, “Alright, that's enough.” The drunk guy sneers, his words slurred, “What the—what’s your problem bro? We’re just—” Bucky doesn’t let him finish, “Shut up. You’re not doing anything. You’ve got two seconds to back off or we’re going to have a problem,” Bucky’s reply is sharp and menacing. He directs it to all the men that had swarmed you and your friends. 

Shifting you so you stand at his side, Bucky steps forward to let the guys know he’s not messing around. Your hold goes to his right arm where you’re watching the exchange unfold anxiously. You hope things don’t escalate, not wanting Bucky to get into a scuffle. You know he can handle himself, but the idea of him getting hurt in any way caused your heart to ache. 

The guys size Bucky up and it seems some of them think they can take him on. Until the strobing lights illuminate Bucky’s darkened gaze enough that in their drunk haze, they finally recognize him as captain of the baseball team. That means that fighting Bucky meant taking on the entirety of the team. And with the way Sam and Steve were looking over to see if they needed to step in, and Thor was already storming over—they knew they didn’t stand a chance.

It was comical the way the drunk men scramble to get away as fast as they could. Muttering incoherences and apologies under their breath. They don’t get far as Tony’s hired security for the night promptly kicks them out. 

Thor comes up to check on everyone, giving special attention to Jane who keeps assuring him she’s fine. You turn to Bucky, who’s already inspecting you to make sure you are alright, “Bucky I—” You almost tell him not to worry, that you had things under control, but in reality, you’re glad Bucky stepped in. 

“Thank you,” you say sincerely, Bucky’s tense demeanor softens at your words. He moves to get a better hold on you, his grip at your waist protective teetering on possessive. 

“You don’t have to thank me for that, sweetheart. I got you—always,” Bucky’s genuine response makes your heart flutter and your pulse quicken. Your senses are awakened by his proximity, completely enamored with the way he looks at you. 

“Plus, if I’m going to fall for the most beautiful girl in the world, I have to know how to fight right?” Bucky says this like it's the most obvious thing, smirking at the way you don’t hide the smitten grin he elicits from you. There’s a sparkle in your eyes as you stare at him, Bucky’s heart racing at the sight of it.

 “You and your compliments,” you give a breathless laugh, letting your guard down for once and going with the flow. Bucky can sense it. Sense the way there’s a shift between you, the blossoming of something bigger being accepted and not pushed away by you anymore.

“Only for my girl,” he says this like a promise. His right-hand goes up to gently brush against your cheek. You lean into the touch, that same hand cupping your cheek in response. Bucky has never felt more elated knowing that maybe finally you two can go to places he’s only dreamed of. 

“Yours?” You question him playfully, which causes him to chuckle, the sound a low rumble, “You and I both know you are, sweetheart. I told you I had all the time in the world to make you fall for me—and I meant it,” he smiles, an intense fire in his eyes that only accumulates when you respond, “You don’t have to wait any longer, Bucky.”

He wastes no second to connect your lips, kissing you with a loving purpose. His lips have a slightly bitter taste to them from the beer that still lingered there. And yet, the bitterness disappears when one kiss turns into two and then three. His arms encircling you to pull you into his chest, your hands finding their way to the nape of his neck.

Bucky pulls away to ghost his lips against your jaw until his lips brush against your ear, “Those little moves you were doing for me earlier, do them again,” his husky tone sends a shiver down your spine as he tugs you in to dance with him. Your bodies mold to one another, hips swaying in rhythm with the vigorous music. The beat allows you to gyrate and grind in ways that drive him to the edge of his control. 

His hand rests on the small of your back, holding you close, fingers splayed out as if making a silent claim. You can feel the way his gaze burns into you, the air getting hotter making it harder to breathe. Your hands trail up and down his arms as need be. The rest of the party fades away leaving you two alone in this space of this charged energy. Every lingering touch and longing glance is layered with unspoken urges that would soon intensify to the brink of madness. 

“You have no idea what you do to me do you?” 

“I do. I’m not immune to what’s going on between us, Bucky.”

Your body, your voice, the way you plead with your eyes for him to take this further—it causes a stirring within his pants—the fabric getting tighter the longer the dance goes on. He needs to get you away, to get you alone. Bucky needs to satiate this hunger for you that threatens to consume him or he is going to end up doing something Rated R on this dance floor. 

The throbbing between your legs agrees. 

An idea pops into Bucky’s mind when he glances at his group of friends. He increases the volume of his voice so you can hear him over the music, “The baseball team was going to host a game of hide and seek. Should we play?” Playful mischief glimmers in his eyes as he asks you. 

“Hide and seek? Seriously?” You raise a brow, wondering how that was going to work in a mansion full of a million rooms.

“Yeah, come on. It'll be fun,” Bucky draws you away from the dance floor and over to where his friends are mingling and taking a few shots. Steve sees Bucky approach and they have a quick whispered exchange. Your eyes dart between them, curious as to what they're discussing.

“Seems like we’re getting a head start,” he comments to you as he leads you away from the main party and down a few intricate hallways. His hold on your hand is firm, yet careful—almost as if he’s afraid you’ll get lost in one of the many corners of the manor. The thrum of the music fades the further you slip away from the party. Your pulse spikes, both from the adrenaline of the game and the heat that still simmers between you.

Bucky has been to Tony’s parties plenty of times before, so he knows the layout of the manor pretty well. The clicking of your heels along the marble floors echoes at the pace of the beating of his heart. He tries to focus on the expensive artwork that lines the halls instead of the way your hand perfectly fits in his. The artwork is what’s guiding his path through the manor and you are the best distraction he could ask for. 

“Where are we going?” Your voice echoes down the endless hallway. 

“Somewhere no one will find us,” he winks at you, your heart skipping a beat at his words, his pace steady and purposeful as he turns one more corner and slips you two inside a room. You're encased in darkness, blindly feeling for a light switch until Bucky uses the flashlight on his phone to illuminate the space. You faintly make out your surroundings. You seem to be in one of the many guest rooms of the manor. The attention to detail in the room was no short of the attention paid to the rest of the place.

You knew Tony’s family had money, but seeing how they splurged for a mere guest room, meant his family was beyond loaded. 

Bucky whispered something to you, but you didn’t catch it as he took you by the hand and ushered you into the room’s closet, clicking it shut behind him. He reaches up to turn on the small lightbulb to cascade the enclosed space in a soft glow, turning off the flashlight on his phone and putting it in his pants pocket. The tension is now thicker and more palpable in the small space, causing goosebumps to rise across your skin.

If you had a dollar for every time you and Bucky ended up in a tight space together, you would have exactly two dollars. While maybe strange, it somehow seemed fitting for you two. 

Bucky steps closer to you, your bodies inches apart, the dim light doing nothing to dull the intensity in his eyes, “Now that I’ve got you here—I think I did a good job with the hiding spot, don't you?” His heated whisper brings your breath to a hitch. 

You have to clear your throat to compose yourself, “I don’t know…We had a whole mansion to hide in, and you chose a closet?” You can’t help but tease him, trying to lighten the unbearable tension. 

“Would you rather go hide in the library? The wine cellar? The arcade?” His voice is dripping with mirth taking another step closer to you. He knows what you're doing, but he’s not going to let the tension die down—not this time.  

“The arcade sounds fun,” you quip, leaning back against the wall. 

“Hm, maybe, but I prefer the closet. It’s a lot more private and it has its…advantages,” he reaches out to pull your hand up to his lips, planting a soft kiss across your knuckles. You go to use that hand to lightly push at his chest, but he catches it in time and intertwines your fingers instead. Your heart is racing a mile a minute. 

“Maybe the closet isn’t so bad, but these heels…Worst decision I made tonight,” you shift slightly, not meaning to change the subject, but your heels are torturing you. In the quiet of the closet the pain begins to creep up on you, begging to be acknowledged. After hours of walking on them, dancing, and standing overall—your feet were killing you. You weren’t sure how long you’d be able to stand upright while hiding. 

“Are they hurting you?” 

“Yeah, a bit.”

“Lets get them off then,” Bucky slides his hand underneath your right thigh, eyes locked on yours, as he hikes it up against the outside of his leg. Your hips brush up against his front, your breath catching at the intimacy of the moment. He watches your every reaction as he slides his hand down the underside of your leg until he reaches the strap of your heel. He’s able to undo it effortlessly, relieving you of the discomfort, his fingers grazing your ankle as he slides your right heel off. His every touch leaves heat in its wake. 

“Bucky you really don't have to—” he cuts you off with a soft smile and half-lidded eyes, switching his hold from your right leg to your left one, “I want to, sweetheart. Just let me help, ” he removes the other heel with the same tantalizing tenderness he used for the first one. Putting them to the side where they won’t get in the way.

The relief you feel is immediate.

“Better?” 

“Much.” 

“Good.” 

A moment passes before he speaks, his voice quiet with an underlying devotion, “You don’t get the hold you have on me, do you?’’ His right hand dances along the outside of your thigh while his left plays with the strap of your dress, twirling it between his fingers. The hand at your thigh traces patterns onto it. Trailing intricate swirls across the flesh, along your hips, ascending to your waist, and all the way up to the space between your breasts. The touch lingers there when you let out a soft sigh. 

You honestly forget how to breathe. 

“Say the word and I’m all yours, Y/n,” his voice is rough as his lips ghost against yours—seductively grazing against them. Going so far as licking his lips with an invigorating grin to really drive you crazy.

Bucky is waiting for you to make the deciding move. When you realize this, you throw all caution to the wind, pulling him in for a desperate kiss. You waste no time in granting him access to deepen it. Bucky follows your lead ardently. His hands snake down your body to cup your ass and pull you impossibly close to him. 

Your hands get lost in his hair, a groan rumbling through him at the way you tug at it. You two aren’t sweetly kissing, you're devouring each other. Yearning for the other all night leaves no more room for taking things slow or holding back. You’re both now giving in to what you want most—each other. 

The heat between you intensifies until it crescendos to a boiling point. The aching between your legs imploring you to do something about it. You reach down to tug at the waistband of his pants, causing Bucky to let out a husky laugh. 

“If you want something use your words, sweetheart,” he mutters against your lips, you suppress a groan, “You know what I want. I don't have to say it,” you retort impatiently. Bucky shakes his head, smiling despite himself, “I want to hear you say it,” he dips his head to the crook of your neck, his teeth nipping at the skin. The hands on your ass give it a light squeeze emitting a small gasp from you. You can feel the shit-eating grin on your neck. 

“Bucky….I…” your words are cut off by a soft moan when Bucky’s left hand sneaks its way through the slit of your dress until he reaches the inside of your thighs. He massages the flesh there, his thumb brushing against the hem of your panties. 

Your arousal pools impossibly more, and the lustful haze only increases at the way you feel his hardened cock straining against his pants—right against your hip. 

“Mm? What was that, baby? Couldn’t hear you over those pretty noises you're making,” his every word drips with cockiness. 

“You're insufferable.”

“That’s my girl.” 

Bucky kisses your neck with more fervor. Sucking and nipping at the skin hard enough to leave marks. Your thighs involuntarily close together at the way he calls you his girl. He eases them back apart with his deliberate touches. Kneading the soft flesh in his hands as his breathing goes ragged along your neck, tickling your skin. He was on the brink of losing what little control he had left. 

You suck in a sharp breath, losing what little semblance of control you had left the higher his touch gets. He only goes so far, barely brushing across your clothed cunt to give you a taste of what he can do if you just let him hear it. You were desperate for more and he knew it. 

 “Fuck me, Bucky,” you manage to whimper out, hooking your fingers into his empty belt loops and yanking him towards you. Bucky lets out a low growl at the brief friction, his eyes darkening to an almost unrecognizable color. For a moment, his brain short circuits at your words, processing that you really said that to him accompanied by that alluring sound. He’s heard those sinful noises from you before, but never like this. Never with the assurance of more. 

“Say it again.”

“Bucky, please just fuck me already.”

You don’t have to tell him another time. Bucky crashes his mouth onto yours with a new intensity, mumbling lustful promises into your mouth. How he wants you, how badly he aches to make you feel good, how he yearns for his pretty girl to lose herself with him, and so many more things that make you dizzy. 

He moves to bunch up your dress, hiking it up your legs until it's bundled at your waist. His breathing strains at the sight—your black lacy panties luring him in—his muscles tensing at the growing need to be inside you. His left arm reaches down to hook his forearm under your knee and bring it up to his hip. You wrap that leg around him, steadying yourself on your other foot as you grind against each other. You can feel the way his cock aches to be freed and it causes you to arch deeper into him. Your moans mingle into one, the slight relief overwhelming you. 

Bucky takes his free hand and splays it at the small of your back, offering strong support as your bodies continue to grind against one another. A chorus of moans and yearnful whines erupt from you both. All of the pining and hunger for one another amalgamates into one as you continue to rub against each other. You swallow each other’s sounds, tongues tangling carnally as neither of you leaves any room for air.

“Do you have—?”

“Back pocket. Wallet.”

Your lips barely disconnect at the brief exchange. You reach behind him, patting down his backside until you feel the outline of his wallet in his pocket. You take hold of it and bring it forward. Meanwhile, Bucky decides to leave wet kisses along the valley of your breasts. You can barely contain yourself and your soft moans as you pull out the condom. The wallet almost slips from your grasp as the attention to your breasts causes you to tremble. 

You hold it tighter intending to put it back in his pocket when something catches your eye. In the clear slot where his identification should be is a polaroid picture from the weekend camping trip. You’re in that picture sitting next to Bucky on a couple of logs surrounded by your friends and peers. There’s a bright smile on Bucky’s face, his arm around your shoulder as you make bunny ears behind his head.

You love this picture. You have a copy of it taped to your bedroom mirror back home.

At your stillness, Bucky looks up to see what’s going on. When he notices you staring at the picture, he smiles fondly. " It's the only picture I had of us,” he utters softly, causing a warmth to spread throughout you. You gaze at him in tender awe, marveling at the fact that Bucky is real.

Why had you ever doubted he was anything but yours? 

You kiss him this time with all the unspoken feelings you’ve bubbled up and kept inside. The wallet falls from your hands, but it's no matter as Bucky kicks it to the side with his foot, and shudders at the way your lips claim his. This goes beyond lust. Your heart beats with reason, and that reason is the man in front of you. 

“Bucky, I want this. I want you. All of you,” you whisper passionately, your hands lowering to help him unbutton and unzip his pants, the foil neatly tucked between your fingers. A guttural moan leaves him when you push the layers of fabric down and free his cock, pumping it a few times to get a feel of it. His head falls to your shoulder, sighing softly in a near whine as you tear the foil open and roll the protection down his length. It twitches in your hands, his hips bucking at the contact. 

His arms are preoccupied with keeping you close and steady, so you gently guide him to your center. Moving your panties to the side as he tantalizingly slides along your folds before he slowly enters you. Your mouth goes agape at the sensation while Bucky has to do everything to make sure he doesn’t cum right then and there.

This was so much better than what he had imagined in his dreams. 

It's been too long since you’ve done this and the burn at the stretch causes you to cry out quietly. Bucky peppers your face with sweet kisses and whispers of devotion. Trying to do his best to comfort you as he lets you adjust inch by inch. The hand at the small of your back rubs circles into it with his thumb, your own hands shooting up to grip his biceps for support. 

“I’m not gonna last if you tighten up like that sweetheart,” he hisses a groan at how tightly your walls envelop him. You’re really making it hard for him to not come undone in a short amount of time. 

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize, baby, just relax for me.”

His gentle words are accompanied by thrusts that are slow with a deliberate purpose. He’s careful with his pace as he wants this to go at whatever speed you need. It takes a bit, but his soft kisses and comforting touches coax the burn away until you're left with the ardent ache of needing more. 

“Faster, Bucky,” you plead breathily. He rests his forehead against yours.“Can you handle it, baby?” His question is full of loving concern, prioritizing your pleasure over everything.

“I can…fuck…please,” you assure him, your leg pulling him in tighter causing him to bottom out. Bucky curses and moans all in one. At your assurance, he picks up the pace of his hips, rocking them against you with a fiery velocity. The lewd sounds bouncing off the walls of the closet in waves. 

He gives it to you exactly how you asked him to. That man would do anything for you—just say the word and its done. 

Bucky is on cloud nine at the way you take him. The way your bodies mold and arch into one another’s like you can’t get enough. As if all you ever needed to consume to live was each other. When he goes to kiss you, you can barely kiss back as you’re too lost in the way he slams into you.

“Fuck, baby, if only you could see yourself. You’re so fucking gorgeous making those pretty expressions for me,” Bucky grunts out, drinking up the sight of your face. A string of mewls leaves your lips at the keen attention he keeps on you. Everything about you right now is a work of art in his eyes he wants framed and kept at his bedside. A constant reminder he’s the one who gets to make you look and feel so damn good.  

“Don’t stop, please don't stop.”

“Wasn’t planning to, sweetheart.” 

Your words egg him on to go harder, causing your back to press tightly against the wall. Hiking your leg just a tad bit higher to thrust into you at another angle. This was the best decision he ever made as he hits the perfect spot within you. One that leaves you clinging onto him desperately as your walls tighten on the brink of release. 

It takes a few more fierce drives into you until your orgasm hits you and you're cumming with a feverish intensity. Moaning Bucky’s name in a euphoric mantra that’s music to his ears. It's what brings him over the edge and he stills at the force of his orgasm, his head collapsing into the dip of your neck as he releases into the condom. 

“My girl. My sweet girl. You feel so good, baby,” Bucky softly whispers against your neck. Planting small kisses as both of you come down from your highs. Your arms wrap behind his neck to embrace him and keep him close to you. Bucky continues to mutter sweet praises along your skin, as your hands thread through his hair tenderly. Both of you steadying your breaths as you come back down to Earth. 

If it weren't for Bucky holding your right leg up, it would've fallen from its position at his hip long ago. You’re even more grateful for it now as your body felt completely boneless. And when he pulls out, its the grip he has on your body that keeps your knees from buckling.

Bucky lifts his head so his gaze locks on yours. His blues are swimming with a vehemence that steals your breath and causes your pulse to race.  

“Y/n, I…I wanted to give you some time. Time to figure things out—to figure out what you wanted. I tried pretending I was okay with pieces of you, but I’m not. I want all of you. I want to be yours,” Bucky confesses with sincerity. You reach out to interlock your hands with his, a floodgate of emotions engulfing you. 

“Bucky—” you start, but he’s not hearing it, afraid you’ll want to go back to a place that would devastate him. “Wait, just hear me out. Everything I ever did was to get you to notice me. From the moment we met there was just something about you that kept pulling me in. And I knew—I just knew I had to get to know you. And then one thing led to another and I fell for you—hard. Now I can’t imagine my life without you. There's only you. It’s always been you. Give me a chance, let me prove it to you every day, that I’m yours. That I have been for a long time,” Bucky’s tone borders on pleading, you give his hands a light squeeze to ease the worry in his features. 

“Bucky you have nothing to prove—”

“Y/n—” 

This time you stop him by clamping a hand over his mouth. 

“Bucky, you have nothing to prove because I’ve felt the same way for a long time. I just fought it for so long out of fear that maybe you weren’t serious about me. But I can see now I was wrong. I’ve been yours for a long time too, Bucky. I just pretended I wasn’t—and I’m done fighting it. I’m done being in denial. I want to have something serious with you. I’m ready for it,” your heartfelt confession immediately melts away the tension in Bucky’s shoulders. 

You wanting this as much as he did made him feel like he was on top of the world.

He mumbles something into your hand, the biggest grin on the other side of it. You laugh adoringly at the sight as you remove your hand to replace it with your mouth instead. Both of you sink into the kiss as a deeper devotion is exchanged. 

“Whoever is seeking is horrible at it,” you remove yourself with a light giggle, taking a jab at whoever the seeker of the hide-and-seek game is. A game that was long forgotten by Bucky until you mentioned it. 

Bucky smiles sheepishly, “About that…there's not actually a hide-and-seek game. And if there is they don't know we’re playing,” he confesses with a twinkle in his eyes. You shake your head at him, laughing in disbelief, “Bucky, then what were you and Steve whispering about?” Your curiosity is met with a boyish grin from Bucky, “I was just letting him know not to come looking for me. I wanted to get some alone time with you,” his hands find your hips again to give them a gentle squeeze.

Bucky is far from done with you yet. 

You roll your eyes lightheartedly at his revelation. Of course, he’d come up with a way to get you all to himself. Can you blame him? 

After a few more stolen kisses and lingering touches, you both start to compose yourselves. Adjusting your outfits and collecting your items from the ground. Thankfully, the guest room has its own bathroom where the two of you can clean up much better than in the small closet. Tousled hair, smeared makeup, and sweaty skin required a deeper attentiveness.

You both take your time in freshening up. The bathroom lighting does wonders to reveal every piece of evidence of your sexual encounter. You can now clearly see all the red marks that would eventually turn into hickeys that scattered your neck and chest. Bucky beams pleased at the markings he’s left as you scold him for making them so prominent. 

Bucky doesn’t give a damn. He’d gladly make more in an instant. 

By the end, all that's left is to get your heels on, which Bucky insists on helping you with. He offered to carry you for the rest of the party or even giving you his shoes, but you declined both options. You paid good money for these heels so whether you liked it or not, you were forcing yourself to wear them. 

Bucky helps you up onto the expansive marble counter. Lowering down onto his knees in front of you to slide your heels back onto your feet. Nimble fingers work the straps into place, making sure they're not too tight at the ankles. When he looks up at you, a devilish grin appears on his face. That spark of desire is back in your eyes when you see how good he looks knelt between your legs. Your mind was reeling with ideas as the heat once again pranced across your skin. Bucky’s gaze bore into yours, almost as if he could read your mind. He can’t help but get turned on again. 

You were in the same boat. 

“You know, I have a big stats test on Monday. I could use an emergency tutoring session right about now,” his tone is laced with suggestion as his fingers trace along your ankle. You hum, “Hm? Do you? I think I could accommodate that.” Your reply gives Bucky the go to start kissing up your legs until he reaches your knees. He never breaks eye contact as he places a tender kiss on each one before standing up and giving that same attention to your mouth.

“Perfect. Let’s get out of here, sweetheart,” Bucky mutters against your lips, the kiss a promise of the fun awaiting you for the rest of the night. Now that the lines were blurred beyond recognition, into something deeper, something real, you were both completely all in. 

[mudandmire]

Azris one-shot

listen. listenlistenlisten I don't know what this is, I just thought it would be nice to see Eris drool over some thick, meaty Azriel. Not my intention to make him sound like a well-cooked steak but alas.

I wrote this in a very short amount of time so if there's typos or issues my bad but also I'm trying to get better at *gestures vaguely* not caring so much that it stops me from posting :D

(be warned there is smut, semi-graphic but I'm still virgin-esque at this so not fully)

*drops this and runs*

...

Eris had never truly thought of it—like looking at the sun straight on, it would probably burn him to do so. But that didn't mean he didn't see. Search the differences between two bodies and try and imagine where his hands would go on the soft curves of a waistline. The blush pink of kissed cheeks and satin skin framed by long, silken locks of hair. He could like it, could find the beauty in it, of course. But it was more like looking at flowers, the glimmer of sunlight on the surface of a lake. Such beauty was expected, known, and only to be looked at and admired—nothing to touch, certainly nothing to desire.

This body was different in all forms.

The camps had melded at some point, Eris had ended up somewhere different this time and honestly he was too stuck in his head to find his way back. The inky blue black of the night court wear became more common, Eris realized distantly he was somewhere in or close to the night court camp. Yet still, it wasn't enough to send him back-pedaling to his own camp, his own tent.

A male had come crashing to the earth, and Eris had seen skin. It was only once he had shut his agape mouth with a snap that he recognized the cobalt blaze of stones on the Illyrians chest and hands. Azriel—because surely he was forever cursed to only know that name, and so intimately that he knows the taste of his blood in his mouth yet doesn't know the shape the tattoo on his chest takes.

Azriel was yelling, tendons stark against his skin, sweat and a streak of blood across his forehead and jaw. His leathers were torn, from throat to nearly the waistline of his pants, hanging in ribbons around his body as he shucked off the arm of the male he was helping stagger to a medic. Something about the anger, so present it seemed to rattle his whole frame till those exposed parts of his body was jolting with it. Eris knew in some way that Illyrians are carved differently than autumn fae, even more so than high fae, yet it doesn't stop his mouth from going dry at the full look at just how different.

It's meat—he thinks it half-crazed. A healthy thickness to Azriel's chest that brings a curve to his pectorals, flexing with his movements as he shoves away one of the males, still shouting. Eris follows the path easily down, like his own trail of droplets of water or sweat or whatever remains staining his skin that glossy bronze. The weight of those muscles continues further, bunching at his abdomen which heaves and flexes and the hollow of his navel catches the light—

Shit. Cauldron boil him there are no words strong enough to describe the pang of lust that strikes him blind right between the eyes. It must've traveled all the way down the line of his spine because suddenly Eris can't breathe, can't look away, can't do anything but stay stuck, standing and feeling for the first time what he thinks is the white hot flame of desire flickering at the base of his spine. Some tease, some gentle prodding of 'you see me now?'

It's not like he didn't know. Eris had dragged Azriel's unconscious body enough times to know how impossibly heavy he is. It doesn't matter—seeing it, even partially bared to him like this, may just be the thing to send him to his knees.

He wants it.

Cauldron damn him to Hel, he wants.

And he's never been good at it, getting a hand around himself and reaching some pinnacle, some kind of precipice of relief so grand it's all the males his age could whisper and talk about. But he thinks, a little wild, a little starved, he thinks if he had the full weight of that body between his thighs. If he had it, warm with blood and flush with heat, maybe keeping the stripe of dried blood on his stubbled jaw—he thinks he could do it. Find the kind of release the soldiers in his army seem to find easily between the legs of a female.

And that's—that's the problem. That's him, in the depths of the problem.

It's amazing how many realizations he comes to within the span of what can be no longer than a couple heart beats. But in one moment Eris is watching the way Azriel's powerful body moves, muscles flexing under the bronze glint of his skin, and the next they're meeting eyes. Eris's body had gone from bubbling with a new kind of heat to icy with dread. The kind he only knows in window-less cells, iron chains.

Azriel meets his eyes, even from paces away, and Eris curses to himself as he feels his stomach swoop. Trying to dip closer to where that flame had rested even though it's hardly anything more than a dimming ember now. His eyes narrow, and Eris just hopes he can't see any of the lingering tinges of lust in his own gaze. That everything he felt had been kept in his head away from the environment outside.

For a moment he thinks he has succeeded in maintaining that careless facade, Azriel's own gaze darkening and his mouth tightening with a scowl. But then something happens, faster than Eris can understand, and he watches through what feels like fog as something crosses the Illyrian's face. His head tips, predatory and watchful, and begins to walk over.

Eris breathes out harshly, refusing to admit that it comes out trembling, that there's a part of him shaking deep behind his rib cage in fear that Azriel saw. Saw what Eris tried to hide and is coming to make an example out of him.

Eris draws himself up, chin pointed and looking down his nose as Azriel gets closer.

"Can I help you?"

Azriel doesn't say anything, the silence unnerving, as he just watches Eris from under the shadow of his lashes.

"Behind you." He says, Eris has to work to ignore the swell of his pectorals in front of him.

He swallows hard, off-balance, "I—pardon?"

"Tent, behind you, it's empty."

Eris starts to catch on—and it may not make a lot of sense, he may be welcoming his own murder, but there's something in the way Azriel's looking at him that brings the white hot flame back. The bubbles in his stomach, a clench at the base of his spine.

-

He's the first one in, the first one to cross the threshold of the tent but Azriel's not that far behind.

It's a different world when he steps through, maybe just a single moment in that world. A moment where Eris is allowed to look, to want.

And he wants.

-

Azriel's big, from up close and far away and right between his thighs the breadth of his shoulders is enough to send a tender ache through the muscles of his legs and the joints of his hips. It's messy from the start—trying to stay quiet and Eris coming to the mortifying realization that he's miserably bad at that. So Azriel keeps his mouth on his, or slides his fingers between his lips when he asks for lubricant, or presses his whole palm down across his mouth when he slides in.

All of him—Eris feels the length of him against the base of his spine and shivers hard—inside, pressed close, gods how can a body be so hot and not burn to ashes? And from there it's a chase. Eris keeps his teeth pinched in the meat of Azriel's scarred palm, and Azriel keeps his noises buried in the crook of his sweat-damp neck. He's all muscle, and there's no soft dip of a waist to cradle. There's no satin skin or delicate blush. Azriel is heavy, his stomach rolls over itself when his hips thrust back in, skin and muscle and Eris swears he can feel the flex of it all on his own neglected arousal.

His hands are—gods his hands—they're rough and worn, yet every now and then one will leave their position branding his hips with petal-shaped bruises and come up to cradle the back of his head. They run gentle over the back of his thigh when he pries him apart further—asking for him to open his body more, thighs to hip to where he's split open and raw at the center of his being.

The scars themselves are finger-prints.

These aren't the hands of anyone, of any male. Eris knows now, as the heave of their chests gets dire; the air hot and wet between their mouths, the constant, hard push of his cock right up into that one place that sets his belly on fire—he knows he'll forever remember this touch. Know these palms blind he swears he's been branded by the lightning-shaped ridges of them.

There's a moment where Eris loses sight, fingers locked in silken raven hair, as his hips move in harder, faster, his eyes rolling back to the point white sparks dance behind them. It's the end, some primal part of him knows what's coming even if he's never reached pleasure like this, and yet he digs in further with his nails, his heels as if keeping Azriel close will stave off the inevitable.

It does the opposite, Azriel's grunting low in his throat, animalistic and wanting and Eris sighs a soft moan when he feels the indentation of teeth at the hinge of his jaw. The noises their bodies make is nearly enough to send him off, but he's hanging there, just at the edge, just waiting.

Azriel's biceps flex, reaching under Eris's thighs and pulling them out and up so the backs of his knees rest in the crooks of his arms. He's folded, bared even further than he possibly thought he could be—feeling the roll of his own skin against himself and wondering when it got so wet. Gods does it do it, though. Azriel keeps himself closer than ever, hot breath against his cheek as Eris claws at him, a wail muffled behind his own hand, and feels the break through his body.

The angle, the pressure against that one perfect spot, Azriel's warmth and weight drawing so much heat from him, into him, everything snaps in one moment.

Azriel is there through it all, when Eris futilely arches up in some form of welcoming the lightning branding his spine, and when he comes back down. Still coiled tight under Azriel's working hips, though they falter in pace again, and again, and once more before Azriel curls over Eris's sweat-soaked, shaking body like the protective limbs of a tree.

The weight of his heaving stomach pressing against Eris's own makes him swallow hard, carding a trembling hand through Azriel's tangled locks, wondering if the scent of sex will stick to him like sunlight or if he'll only smell like he would after a battle, a sparring match. For a moment it's easy, gentle, breathing together and trying to find the balance they had completely lost once they crossed the threshold of the tent. Eris doesn't mind, the company is nice, even the ache of the stretch which has grown into a dull throb is pleasant.

It's the after he's dreading. The unsticking of their bodies, because Eris is warm here, and he knows deep down when Azriel pries himself away something vital will be ripped from him.

But it's a quick tryst in an empty tent, they both have things to do, and Azriel still has dried blood flaking on his cheeks. Eris supposes he can keep the memory of it for himself, just a little while.

...

(can you tell I didn't know how to end it)

um so like Hi. It's been a minute I blame college and my abysmal time management. First azris thing I've written in m o n t h s and man am I rusty but wow it feels good to get these two freaks back on my page 😎

[bull-at-the-gate]

Sehkmet the Just. Devoted Paladin of The Lord of the North Wind; The Wyrmking; King of Good Dragons; The Platinum Dragon Bahamut

More silly Tavs. haha can we tell that I started out drawing animals and have for way longer than I’ve drawn people?

Sehkmet’s an Oath of Vengeance Paladin and always keeps her word, or will die in the attempt.

I imagine she’s been resurrected once before after falling in battle against the cult of Tiamat.

She devoted her life to serving as an instrument for Bahamut’s vengeance after losing her clan to followers of Tiamat as a wee cub.

So she’s very devout, but also gets to be a whole himbo, as a treat. She and Hollow (my durge) would ask together with full earnestness ‘what animal is the pink panther’ and Sehkmet would probably forget after a week.

Some Headcanon-y Things

Heals by giving lil’ forehead kisses and will absolutely not tolerate anyone hiding injuries, she’s lost too many a good ally to let that slide.

Helps with cooking by prepping the food so Gale has a little less work to do; Can freeze food for later too

White Dragonborn are more adapt for the cold, so Sehkmet’s got a thick downy fur, ideal for cuddling; everyone has slept with at least once for the best platonic cuddles (maybe minus Lae’zel until much later)

Has no idea what a shirt is, not really, but she prefers to go without when resting. Only somewhat understands modesty, everything for Dragonborn is extremely internal so she understands in concept, but not necessarily for herself

Does laundry for everyone, finds the repetitiveness to be meditative and is particular about strong smells, so doing it is a win-win. Patches up any holes she finds too.

Fascinated by hair, loves to style it and learned how to when a few war clerics taught her to. Lae’zel, Shadowheart, and Gale all thought she was giving them *the look* but she just wanted to play with and style their hair.

I need to practice muscular bodies a bit, but she’s built like a seven-foot tall truck and hits like a train.

Can only see out of one eye, lost total use of her right one while training to join her order but the vision had been failing most of her life.

She was a secret fan of *The Blade of Frontiers* before meeting Wyll because she’d heard he also only had one functioning eye and was still able to be a champion of the people.

did not, however, realize she was older than him. She’s still a fan.

Spends at least one evenings each tenday polishing and caring for the party’s armor, after proving to Lae’zel she did an acceptable enough job to be entrusted hers as well.

Scarily fast, especially out of her armor. She was too slow, once, to save a cleric who’d trusted her to be their shield. She’d vowed to never be too slow again, and she always keeps her word.

Offers mercy and a second chance unless it’s been proven to her that a beaten enemy won’t do better; She follows Bahamut’s own words on the matter, no justice without mercy and no penance without forgiveness

Would probably be a theater kid

Spars with Lae’zel and Karlach on the regular in camp. I like the idea that Dragonborn can replace teeth but it’s not common knowledge yet, so it’s funny to picture:

Karlach knocking out a couple teeth and being extremely apologetic and starts looking for the teeth

Sehkmet’s just confused because she’s assumed her whole life everyone’s teeth regrow and is confused why Karlach’s dragging Shadowheart over with her old teeth asking if she can put them back.

Lae’zel is amused (Gith definitely would also be able to regrow teeth, selectively bred warrior race and all) and uses the moment for one of her lovely little Githyanki supremacy tangents.

Sehkmet is just standing there, staring at the horizon in concern, like ‘You all don’t regrow teeth?!’ and thinking about how many belated apologies she needs to make

Karlach is still holding bloody teeth

Lae’zel and Shadowheart are fighting (flirting) again

Astarion is over by the cookout bugging Gale and watching the show

Gale and Wyll are still thinking at least they’re normal

the Emperor is still imploring you to eat a tadpole.

[limeade-l3sbian]

Im sure you have noticed many radfems talk of how men will use their spouse/partner as basically a second mother, having her do all the chores, the emotional labour, the organisation, etc. And I agree with this take.

But can we talk about how a lot of women, especially trad adjacent ones, also see their male partner as almost a parental figure. The amount of times i’ve seen women use different versions of “I just want a man that can think for me” is too many to count at this point. And it’s common. It’s seen in so much romance media, where the man takes control of everything, all the big decisions. It’s become a whole trope in heterosexual romance books and stories, of a rich man with control issues who sweeps some woman off her feet and makes it so she basically just disappears in his embrace.

This is gonna sound super harsh, but please know it isn’t meant as a critique of them as much as something i’ve noticed. I really do believe a lot of women who crave old school gender roles are very lazy, “useless”(to themselves) people who don’t want to amount to anything in life. The idea of struggle and hardship, heck, even just working TOWARDS something, it scares them so much they would rather be shapeless blobs controlled by someone else. That’s why they fetishize that traditional life style for women. Obviously WE know the women of that time and current time too in those types of homes aren’t just sitting around all day doing nothing, but I really do think a lot of women use it as an escapism fantasy from life.

The way a lot of them describe their sexual fantasies is similar, it’s always what is done to them, like they aren’t actually active participants, like they don’t actually have to make any choices.

I think the reason a lot of men crave a parental figure partner vs the reason a lot of women crave one is very different but they seem to be extremely common nonetheless. And with women I also know it’s a very complex issue of both society telling us our worth, the fact that women nowadays even as the more educated demographic STILL do more housework and emotional labour in relationships, capitalism being horrifyingly exhausting to live under, I could go on. But the point is, I think certain women crave a life of no consequences so that whole “i’m just a girl” and “he thinks for me, he makes the choices” mentality thats unfortunately had a huge uptick in popularity in recent years, I do think it’s women craving a parental figure as a partner. Not to say it’s anything linked to incest, i’m not trying to make freudian connections here, but I think the role of a parent is to take responsibility for the child and they crave that floating consequence free existence of a child.

I dunno, is what I’m saying completely deranged? Let me know.

Anon, I'm gonna try to be respectful and hold your hand when I say this... YOU'RE RIGHT! Thought I was gonna get condescending on your ass, huh? 😎🤪

Firstly, don't undercut your words with "I dunno." You made a completely logical point and casually explained yourself so eloquently I wouldn't be surprised if English wasn't your first language.

Secondly! I have seen this too! This weird, "take care of me" emphasis from both sides of the camp. Is it laziness? I wouldn't cast that aside for a second. But I think it's also this strange reaction to the present world. At least in the U.S., the economy is shit and people kind of already know that shit is just going to be hard, no matter what. And as humans, we have a weird tendency to swing the pendulum completely to the left or the right. So our reaction to very real, economic hardship that requires frequent "grinding" is to desire a complete release of the wheel, and to have someone else handle the hard stuff.

For some reason, according to social media, you either need to be grindset girl boss or a trad trophy wife which is...yeah. But I don't doubt your point being more of a reason for this. It's bizarre, and you're not crazy.

[gilbirda]

House limped into the hospital and immediately tried to turn around to leave.

"House!"

He froze, knowing that Cuddy would follow him to the deepest pit of hell if needed. It was her most annoying trait.

"House—"

"Well, good day to you too, Cuddy." He sighed, leaning on his cane. People walked past, barely giving them a glance. He noticed a folder in her hands. "You have a gift for me?"

"I have a job for you."

He lifted an eyebrow. "Is this you finally snapping and firing me? I thought I was your favorite doctor."

"You are not," she snapped, pushing the folder to his chest, "and you are not fired. Yet." She added with a pointed look. "I already spoke to your team, they will take over your patient for today."

"I have a patient."

"Had. Now you don't." Cuddy turned around, looking over her shoulder. "the car will pick you in fifteen minutes."

Car? House didn't open the folder, trying to gauge what could have happened to make Cuddy get rid of her best doctor this quickly. Money, probably. Specially since a car was going to pick him up.

Some rich dude with an ouchie needed a private doctor? Sure. He could do this.

In and out. Piece of cake.

***

It was not a piece of cake.

Mostly because this was the most uncooperative patient he had. Ever.

"Where were you when the... accident happened?"

He was trying his best, promise. The moment the car picked him up, an expensive black Mercedes being driven by an actual modern day butler, House knew that he was right. Some rich guy was willing to pay crazy amount of money to have Gregory House do a house call. Well, a mansion call.

But the guy was not giving him anything to work with.

Also his whole damn family was hovering and he couldn't think!

"I was camping."

It was a lie, of course. But Bruce goddamn Wayne had asked for him, personally, to be brought all the way to Gotham to treat him. Why was he being so uncooperative?

"We think it's some kind of poison." The elder son, whose name he had already mocked enough times that it stopped being funny, interjected. Somehow he make House miss Chase.

"You think."

They had a lot of thoughts. Thoughts they kept talking about.

He couldn't hear himself think.

House took a deep breath, tapped the fancy wooden floor with his cane. "Look," he looked at Bruce in the eye, "I know you are lying. I don't know what you are, but I understand if there is some kind of... double life you rather not say. A dark secret," he lifted his eyebrows, "maybe something you do a night?"

Of course he knew this man was the Dark Knight of Gotham himself. It wasn't hard, if you were paying attention. Even Foreman would have been able to figure it out.

Mr. Wayne's facial expression hardened. Even in a lot of pain and probably with more broken bones he admitted to, he tried to intimidate him.

"You won't—"

"I don't care about any of that, of course." House twirled his cane, glancing at the circus hanging around them with bated breath. Probably the rest of the superhero gang. "I only care about whatever is wrong with you. Apart from the whole dressing as a furry and beating the shit out of people for fun," he shrugged, "but I've met rich people with weirdest hobbies, so. More morbid curiosity that professional concern."

He let his cane down and tapped it again, watching Bruce Wayne's expressions change at high speed.

"Now, will you be honest with me or are you going to keep wasting everyone's time?"

i need Dr. House to be Batman's temporary doctor for a month while Dr. Leslie Tompkins is recovering from some sort of rogue activity.

[aziraphales-library]

hello!!!! i was wondering if you have any fem-presenting aziraphale recs? :) i adore her very much and would love to read more fics about her!

Hi! We have a #female aziraphale tag, so do check that out. Here are more fics to add...

On Your Doorstep by miss_minnelli (E)

“Don’t you think it would be easier to already have a kid before you fall in love?” Crowley asked. “What?” “If you already had a kid, and then you started dating your ideal person, you wouldn’t have to worry about all the drama and hardship of having a kid together and that relationship wouldn’t be tainted.” Zira raised her eyebrows. “So you’re saying you’d rather have kids with someone that you’re not that romantically interested in and then what, break up with them for your dream person?” ... Zira and Crowley, friends since university, are the last two single people in their group of friends. Neither wants to be part of one of those couples whose kids destroy their relationships, so instead of waiting for their perfect matches, Zira and Crowley decide to platonically have a baby together. 

Honeysuckle & Heat Waves by pilatesandpinot (E)

Ezera Fell has returned to the town where she’d spent her summers growing up – seaside Tadfield, where the slogan is “Everyday is a Holiday” and the perfect escape for a recent divorcee like herself. But she isn’t just here for holiday or to “get her groove back”; she’s inherited her late aunt Agnes Nutter's bed and breakfast and is determined to restore it to its former glory. She’s consulted the help of the best gardener in town, except there’s one issue: he’s Anthony Crowley, the same man she serendipitously had a one-night stand with while on holiday in Paris. Will the sparks fly now that they’ve been reunited, or fizzle out?

Against Expectations by Blue_Sparkle, summerofspock (E)

After being pressured by their families into a marriage neither of them want, Aziraphale and Crowley resign themselves to an unfulfilling life together. For Aziraphale that means trying to be the dutiful wife she was always taught to be and for Crowley it means hiding an important part of who he is.

Star of the Wooded Mountain by jamgrl (T)

Going back to camp shouldn’t have been hard. Yeah, okay, there was the gender-queer thing and the whole, uh, gendered cabin situation. And, yeah, being a counselor wasn’t going to be the same as being a camper. But Tony loved everything else about camp. Tony loved the woods and the creek and the s’mores. Mostly, though, Tony loved Azira. And they were afraid. That they would be a bad counselor, that Azira would stop liking them. Twelve weeks was a long time, and Tony didn’t know if their life was going to fall together or fall apart.

10,000 Hours by AnnaTheHank (E)

Rich playboy Anthony Crowley has finally broken the last straw. He's been disowned by his grandmother, and turned away by his family. With no money and no where to go, he heads to the old family cabin to lay low until it all blows over. Romance writer A.Z. Fell has been given use of her publisher's cabin to get away from the city and work on her newest book-her first erotica. Neither expected the other to be there, but there they both were. And AZ finds that Crowley's vast knowledge of sex may just make up for her own lacking knowledge when it comes to writing her book.

Within These Castle Walls by christi_writes (E)

Victorian AU. A celebration at an aristocrat’s castle turns deadly with a murder most foul. Paranormal encounters at every dark turn, humans going carnal left and right, and if that stupid Duke puts his hands on Aziraphale one more bloody time, Crowley was going to lose it. -Or- Circa 1880's Victorian Era. Crowley's just woken up from his century nap and the world has changed, including Aziraphale.

- Mod D

[resident-idiot-simp]

holds out my hands so politely id LOVE the darker version of the victor catching origins poolverine,,

*evil cackling* Your wish is my command.

Darker origins Deadclaws caught in the act by Victor

Original

Tw for: Abuse and hints of one sided incest. It is not graphic or expanded upon I promise (Victor is just a fucked up individual ok)

Victor had misplaced Jimmy much to his displeasure and it wasn't going to be good once he found him again.

The camp was mostly quiet as he made his way around it searching for the runt. He had some nerve not telling him where he was going.

Everyone knew not to bother him or Jimmy without a damn good reason so it didn't make sense why the runt was not by his side where he belonged. It was an unwritten rule that the two of them were to be together always just like it had always been.

Jimmy was his and he always would be and he'd eventually wear down the runt enough to expect that and everything it included. The runt still had fight in him which is admirable but it was too much for his taste.

He wanted more out of the runt and he would get it. It would just take a bit more time. He found himself growing at the idea and stopped himself.

He eventually caught the runt's scent and started to follow it deeper into the forest. The familiar sound of panting breath and fumbling hands caught his ears and he had to stop the bone chilling snarl that tried to worm its way up his throat.

The bastard runt better not be doing what he thought he was. Sure enough the runt was being treated like a damn cat in heat by none other then Wilson.

It was pathetic and Victor felt the bone deep envy. It should be him.

Victor finally let out the growl he was holding back and the runt flinched hard eyes going wide with fear. Wilson too realizes he's absolutely fucked as he looks up.

The runt started trying to scoot away and Wilson the fool tried to get between the brothers. Victor hardly payed him any mind as he easily shoved Wilson aside and grabbed the runt by the back of his neck and slammed his head against a tree with a snarl.

"What a fucking sight. You whore yourself out to anyone huh? This is just pathetic Jimmy." Victor cooed down at him.

The runt said nothing eyes not meeting his. Wilson managed to get up and snarl at him, "Let him go Creed."

Victor just raised an eyebrow at him, "Out of everyone you choose him? That's even more pathetic than usual for you."

Wilson snarled and tried to get Victor to let Jimmy go. The runt still hadn't said a word as he shook slightly. He knew he was in trouble. Victor just smiled at the runt with far to many teeth.

"You know you don't have to go out searching like a cat in heat." Victor cruned and Jimmy let out a distressed noises that got him a backhand across the face.

Wilson looked like he wanted to be sick, "Your fucked in the head Creed that's your damn brother."

"I'm sorry." Jimmy apologized his voice shaking, he would usually put up more of a fight, but he knew if he did Victor would be more than happy to kill Wade in retaliation. Victor hummed to himself unpleased.

"Wade just leave please." Jimmy pleaded, Wilson looked like he wanted to do anything but that, "FUCK NO I'M NOT LEAVING YOU WITH HIM!" He snarled.

Victor finally made eye contact with the runt and the bastard took it for what it was.

"Wade leave before he kills you." Jimmy said more solidly.

Wade locked frantic eyes with him.

"Last chance Wilson. " Creed warned.

"You won't touch him like that." Wilson threatened, "Of course not but he'll beg for it one day." Creed dismissed.

The runt and Wilson shared one last look before Wilson scammed off.

Tags: @shy-canadian-snowflake