#i swear to god if i could i would kill her myself

[what-is-merlin-so-gay-for]

WHY???? IS NOBODY?? MAKING NOISE ABOUT TOG SEASON 2 ONLINE???? BABES LOOK AT MY BEAUTIFUL CHILD

TOG IS BAAAAACKKKKKKK

[girlypsyop]

Man. Leaving a toxic relationship is just an exercise in learning how to live in your own head again.

[cherryrikis]

EVERYTHING BUT NOTHING

PAIRING football captain bf jake x fem reader

WARNINGS swearing, arguments, jake makes a singular joke about killing himself

GENRE angst

SYNOPSIS jake is just the nicest guy, everyone knows that. and he’s even sweeter as a boyfriend rather than an acquaintance. even after an argument, you could never stay mad at him for long. but you question that when you hear him talking about you after school.

read part 2 here ?

“are you gonna talk to jake? i know that argument was pretty intense, but you’ve gone a week with no contact.” yuna asked as she tilted her head, standing by your locker while she waited for you to grab your belongings.

“eventually, yeah. i was thinking today after school. the thing with jake though, he either shuts down, or acts like it never happened whenever i want to talk about an argument.” you sighed.

it’s true. as open as jake may appear to be, it’s all but factual. you could never have a real talk with your boyfriend, because he hated confrontation. avoided it entirely.

typically, you don’t let arguments get in the way of your relationship. especially since living together is hard if you’re having frequent conflicts. it wasn’t too much of a problem now though, since he’s been staying at jay’s. but when you brought up the fact that he’s been spending too much time at practice, and that he always forgets your dates, jake let it all out.

it shouldn’t have been as big of a problem as it was. you just wanted to talk. but he finally argued back.

“i get it. sohee is exactly the same! don’t stress though. i know jake is a good guy, he’ll come around.” she smiled. “now let’s go to class? passing period is almost over, and yizhuo has been saving our seats.”

the lecture seemed to go by faster than usual. you were nervous as you steadily approached jake’s locker, which was directly outside his last class.

but when you heard his oh too familiar voice, you stopped in your tracks. you felt your heart sink to the floor as your stomach dropped.

“god. guys, don’t ever get a girlfriend. i’m bounded to long walks on the beach and dinner dates till i die. y/n’s demanding too much of me. i might just kill myself one day.” jake sighed.

“okay but dude, your girlfriends cool and all yet she’s lowkey uptight.” you heard heeseung say as he slapped jake’s shoulder.

“yeah man, you’ve been missing too much practice for your dates now. coach is getting upset. i saw yours and y/n’s texts the other day, and she micromanages you a lot. blink twice if you need help.” sunghoon joked as the three of them laughed out loud.

“i know, i know. i love y/n, but i cannot with her lately. thank god jay let me crash at his after the argument, because i couldn’t live with her constant nagging. she’s so fucking annoying.” he snickered. but, all their faces fell once they saw you.

you slammed jake’s locker door shut with so much force, your hand turned bright red. him and sunghoon flinched harshly, while heeseung and jay had no reaction.

your face ran hot, you felt it as you tightly closed your eyes, holding back the urge to burst out crying. the glass tears threatened to roll down your cheeks.

but one look at his desperate eyes filled with regret, and you tipped over the edge. your salty tears spilled out, past your lashes.

you sniffled as you continued to cry uncontrollably, staring at their flustered faces. jake reached out to wipe your face, but you pushed his hand away, wiping the tears yourself.

“you fucking asshole.” you whispered. “i came here to apologize. but you can’t leave it be.”

“y/n..” his eyes softened, voice faltering as his words were laced with regret and shame. he reached out for you once more, but you stepped back.

the distance between you two physically and emotionally only continued to grow. “baby, just let me talk. like you wanted.” he pleaded, begging, almost.

“i.. hate you.. how could you ever talk about me like that? i never once would even think about saying something like that about you, like you did me.” you scoffed, looking behind him as you finally realized his friends left the scene.

you watched as his eyes watered, with one last attempt of trying to reach you. but he knew you were untouchable in this moment.

“sweetheart?” he watched as you began to walk backwards, away from him.

but you didn’t let up, still hurt. you shook your head, silently telling him no.

with every step you took backwards, jake moved forward, before finally grabbing your wrists tightly so you can’t leave him.

“it costs nothing to be a sweet guy, like the version everyone sees of you. but it takes everything to be an asshole.” you mumble, before pushing him away, finally and surely leaving out the school’s glass doors.

and jake remained there, his regret suddenly transferred into anger. he kicked his locker, watching the metal rattle.

he hated how his such childish and immature words cost nothing yet everything.

“fuck..” he muttered.

“fuck!” jake said once more, but louder, yelling it out loud.

he watched out the window as you walked towards the parking lot, before getting into your car and leaving without a second thought.

“please don’t leave me.” he whispered as his vision turned blurry.

“please don’t leave me..”

[skrunksthatwunk]

ohhhhh no. fuck my stupid baka life fuck my stupid baka life fuck my stupid baka life fuck my stupid baka life. this shit isn't funny anymore guys!!!!!! it's pretty fucking unfunny and you're still laughing!!!!!!!! god. dammit. literally just run me over with a car what the fuck

[rafeyscurtainbangs]

Jerk - Rafe Cameron Blurb

+18 Minor DNI

Perv!Rafe x Sbf!Reader

⭐ republished ⭐

+18 Minor DNI

🪄 Warnings (contains spoilers): Rafe jacking off while the reader sleeps, cum play includes reader, language, non-consensual touching, idk pervert things

📖 based off an ask: Perv rafe jerking off while reader sleeps 🥺

✨ “Hey, sweetheart. Long time no see,” I smile, feeling my cheeks burn in embarrassment as my voice cracks with nervousness. The boys fight their laughter, giving me obnoxious looks, tormenting me further.✨

1k

Rafe’s POV:

You’re going to kill me, sweetheart. I watch as she saunters into the kitchen in her pink silky pajamas with low-cut sides and high-cut bottoms. The curve of her breast peeks through the side. She reaches up high, grabbing a glass, causing the silk to slip up. Just a taste.

Fuck me.

I can feel myself aching for her. She draws the handle up, filling her glass with water. Her lips look delicious, pink, and pouty. I can’t help but fantasize about how they’d look wrapped around my cock, drool seeping from her lips as she deepthroats my dick. Her eyes flash to mine; I quickly look away, running my fingers through my hair, returning my focus to the boys.

“Welcome back, Cameron,” Topper teases before finishing off his beer. Kelce snickers and shakes his head piling on.

“Fuck off,” I mumble as I crack open a beer for myself, watching her out of the corner of my eye as she makes herself a little snack.

“Yo, stalker. A simple ‘hello’ might work better,” Kelce mocks.

“Shut the fuck up,” I grunt, hurling a throw pillow at him, spilling his beer on his chest.

Kelce looks over my shoulder, smiling as he blots the liquid off his polo meaning only one thing… she’s behind me. Is she going to sit down with me? I scoot over slightly on the couch, giving her space just in case. She looks down at me, smiling as she steps even closer. “Hey, Rafey.”

“Hey, sweetheart. Long time no see,” I smile, feeling my cheeks burn in embarrassment as my voice cracks with nervousness. The boys fight their laughter, giving me obnoxious looks, tormenting me further.

“It’s been so long. It’s good to see you,” she coos.

“Good to see you,” I return, leveling my voice with a smoother delivery. Thank fuckin’ god. “So, what’s up? You come out here to hang out with me or…”

“Oh… umm. Sarah and I are just watchin’ a movie. I needed my charger ‘cause my phone’s gonna die. It’s in my purse.”

“Oh yeah? You need my help finding it?” I ask.

“Well… You’re sitting on it I think?” She gestures to my spot on the couch with a soft, sweet smile, making me bloom with humiliation yet again. Why would she hang out with me when she’s here with Sarah? Stop bein’ a fuckin’ idiot.

The guys can’t contain their laughter anymore, looking at me with exaggerated pity as I stand up, holding the pillow that was covers my hard-on from watching her get water alone. Kelce wheezes with laughter, catching my cover-up. I mouth to the boys to ‘shut the fuck up’, the crazed look in my eyes quieting them quick.

“Sorry about your purse,” I sigh.

“Oh. It’s all good, Rafey,” she smiles as she snags her bag. “It’s nice seeing you. We should catch up or something,” she bubbles, stepping closer for a hug. I give her a half-hug, unable to fully commit in my current state. Fuck she smells so damn good. My palm caresses the curve of her lower back making my cock press even rougher against my zipper. I look down at her in my arms, revving myself up again as I get a look straight down her slinky little tank top, the perfect view of her half-hidden tits. I swear to god I could cum untouched.

Fuck I need her.

She has always been pretty; her image has been seared into my mind since the first time I saw her, and I swear she gets even prettier every time. Even her voice is sexy. I can’t imagine what she sounds like when she speaks that filthy shit I dream she says. I want to make her cum more than anything I’ve ever wanted in my entire fuckin’ life… I want to listen to her scream my name, moan it, chant it like a fuckin’ prayer. Rafe, Rafe, Rafe. I’ve replayed that interaction in the living room all night since she left me. I can’t stop.

I had to kick the boys out early. It wasn’t enough to browse her IG; I needed to study it with my fist wrapped around my dick. I scrolled through her feed, each picture sending me further and further into the depths of my lust. She was only a few doors down, driving me insane. I cleaned up the mess on my phone, dick still hard in my hand like I had done nothing at all.

I needed the real thing.

A delicate light illuminates her skin; that silky tank top lying disheveled now, leaving hardly anything to my imagination, which up to this point has not done her justice. Clearly. She’s flawless. Her hair spills across the pillow, her pouty lips juicy, beautiful eyes shut tightly. Her chest gently rises and falls as she breathes rhythmically, hypnotic motion, so soothing to watch. I want to reach out and touch her wet pussy. Circle her pretty little clit and watch her breathing quicken.

The room is pretty loud still, the steady drone of the ceiling fan, and an old rerun of a reality show playing on the TV. The buzz fills the silence, just enough noise to cover the squelching of my hand pumping my cock through a mess of lube. What I wouldn’t do to have it be her slick, wet cunt bouncing on top of me.

I wrap both hands around my dick, pulling to the tip, biting my lip holding back my moans. My eyes roll to the back of my skull. I fight them open, not wanting to miss the chance to stroke myself this close to her. “Fuckkk princess,” I groan, moving my hands counterclockwise, rubbing my thumb over my tip, catching the precum leaking out. “Mmm… just like that, pretty. So, so fucking wet. Does that feel good?“ I breathe.

She lets out a little breath, knitting her brows cutely. She adjusts slightly, giving me a full view of her breast as one spills out. Without thinking I reach out, dusting the pad of my finger across her nipple, watching as it harden under my touch. She whimpers, goosebumps spreading across her bare arm. I do it again, circling softly this time, making her moan. Holy fucking shit.

I begin thrusting up into my fist, gripping my length, holding back every primal urge to wake her and beg for what I need. What do I need? I’ve only thought about it a million times over. My dick in her pussy. My hands on her throat. My cum flowing out of her tight hole just so I can stuff that shit back in. Fuck I want it all.

My thighs start to quake, cock throbbing, muscles clenching tight. ”I’m almost there...“ I grunt. ”Oh, f-fuck… Ugh… Mmm...“ I look down, watching as my climax spurts and spills onto my fist, pooling around her lace panties I stole when I snuck in. I finish myself off slowly, exhaling sharply as I milk out the last bits of my cum.

I lean over, kissing her forehead and then her lips gently as I slip the panties off my softening dick. I breathe a sigh of relief, finally feeling a release. She’s all I needed. I slide her used panties into my pocket, messy with my cum, but I don’t give a fuck. I’m in heaven. I wanna know what we taste like together. Round three bitch.

I swirl my fingers through what little bit of my cum remains, smudging it along her plump bottom lip. She licks it clean and I swear I can see the corner of her lips curl into a slight smile.

Dirty girl.

[thesturniolos]

guilty pleasures (part 1 )

m. sturniolo x reader

authors note: this picture is actually sickening, need him too bad 🤞

this is all creds to my bae @iheartchrissturniolo thanks for the idea hun < 3 (part 2 including your idea yet to come)

summary: matt has a bit of a crush on his best friend, he’s fantasising ;)

warnings: smut, swearing !!

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

she looked heavenly by the pool today, irresistible to the point where my heart ached. i knew i couldn’t have her, i’ve only been reminding myself everyday for the past 6 years and it’s agonising.

the way the droplets of water fell off her golden skin, the bikini that accentuated her curves, oh so perfectly. and knowing i chose it for her was like the cherry on top of the cake. blue- my favourite colour - and hell she knew it when she bought it, she even told me. “i wonder why you picked this one” i remember her slight giggle after she said it, voice like silk, one that plays in my head at night.

she drags her hand through her hair, shaking it a little to get rid of the water, and boy do i wish it was me doing that. for me to be the one to look after her, to do the small things that weren’t so small to me. her eyes are closed and even though she’s been in the water, her makeup remained flawless - not that she needed it, she was absolutely gorgeous with and without.

she didn’t think this however, always telling me how she wishes she looked like anybody else. if she could only see what i see, just for a second, she’d never think that again. she’s better than any supermodel, the ‘prettiest of girls’ according to society weren’t a touch on her. plus, they didn’t come with her personality- she’s a real life angel and i’ve been blessed with even being in her presence.

i would spend every minute and every hour of my day telling her every little thing i love about her from the colour of her nails to the shape of her lips, i don’t care about the dents in her thighs or the stretch marks on her stomach, she’s perfect.

she’s walking closer to me with an arm outstretched, my eyes landing on the matching tattoo she has with me and i smile. i sometimes forget we had that done, which almost instantly brings me back to reality that she is and always will just be my best friend. i cannot afford to lose someone as special as her which is why i have to push those feelings to the side, as much as we want to be free.

her being so close to me and looking at me with those eyes, dark eyes that could mean so many things, made my cheeks blush the slightest red and i become desperate to hide this. what kind of friend blushes like a crazed guy in love when they look at them? it’s just a look, god.

“you got a towel?” there was that voice again, a voice i wish was in my ear forever. it wasn’t high - pitched nor was it deep, it was just in the middle, soothing. reminds me of the times where she held me whilst i cried, the bestest friend there is. reminds me of when she was so utterly drunk and slurring over her words, what was it again?

 ╭┈┈┈┈╮

“matt” she prods at my arm, waking me up.

“wassup” she frowns looking at my tired state, moving her hand to push hair out of my eyes.

“i’ve got a secret” i frown now, it’s 3am goddamn.

“what’s that”

“you promise you won’t tell anyone?” those little doe eyes drive me crazy, keep looking at me like that and i’ll have an accident.

“i promise” she leans in closer to my ear, her hot breath on my skin.

“i had a dream about you the other day” now i’ve piped up. i don’t care about the time or the sleep in my eyes, she fucking dreamt about me, i’m wide awake.

“oh yeah? good or bad?”

“depends”

“what’d you mean, depends?” once again, driving me crazy. she just knows how to do it.

“well, it depends how you take it.”

“go on.” i’m begging for this now, i need to know what the fuck happened, it’s killing me.

“well, we were doing something,” she twirls my hair in her hand, not looking me in the eyes yet all i can focus on is her and her words. “something best friends don’t do.”

“like what?”

“fucking.”

╰┈┈┈┈╯

held a chokehold over me. every night when i got in to bed i imagined her sleepy self, squirming about in her sheets to the idea of me pounding into her. suddenly i didn’t feel so bad about the hundreds of wet dreams i’ve had ‘bout her, we’re even.

but it only made me more delusional that we could actually be something. she was drunk and it was a dream, i was being dramatic if i thought it was actually something.

“yeah, it’s just there.” i say, pointing to the floor. she bends down to pick it up and i get the best sight of her boobs, pressed against the fabric of her bikini, pushed together ever so slightly. they looked so smooth, so pretty. something i just couldn’t take my eyes off..

“hello? matt?” she swipes her hand in front of my face and i’m so utterly embarrassed, knowing i’d been fixated on her tits. what an assy thing to do, how do i even begin to explain something like that?

“i- uh- i’m sorry! i wasn’t-“ she smiles at me and reaches out to scruff my hair, once again her boobs being directly in my face. is she doing this on purpose? because i’m about to cum in my pants.

“i take it you just really like your choice of bikini, hm?” she laughs, moving the towel to rest it on her hip as she turns around and struts off towards our house. she fucking knows what she does, not just to me but everyone.

i’ve been ignoring the poking in my pants for a while but it’s more prominent then ever now and i need to do something about it or i’m gonna come undone right here right now. it might be pervy but i quite literally cannot be around her when she’s close to naked, my mind travels to the dirtiest of places and to be honest, i’m careless.

if she’s going to act so calm about riling me up like that, then i’m gonna embrace the way she makes me feel. how she makes my cheeks hot and the wet patch that forms in my boxers when she whispers in my ear or now, shoving her boobs in my face.

praying that my jeans cover my painfully obvious hard-on, i quickly walk into the house, making a bee line for my bedroom, desperate to do something about what was happening in my pants.

“you okay, matt?” shes looking at me with a frown, the towel in her hair now as she begins to dry it, still wearing that flattering bikini that is just about to tip me over the edge.

“mhm, i- um, just need to do something.” i look around to see if my brothers are anywhere to be seen, something to distract me from this conversation, i so desperately need to get to that bedroom.

“oh? why’d you look so flustered?” she says with a smug, little smile.

“no reason. i just- i just need a second.” i go to walk away. as much as i would love to stay and talk, right now that is not what i need.

“need my help?”

tags: @strniohoeee @sturnsbaby @sturniolopepsi @malsturns @mattslolita @mattitties @mattsbratt @mattsturniolos @mattsturniolosgf @chrisdevora @christinarowie332 @chrisolivia4l @ilovemattsturn @sturniolossmut @sturnioloswife @sturniolosstar @freshlovehacker @kirby0strombolli @recklesssturniolo @lovingmattysposts @oversturn @ilovemattsturn @urfavstromboli @estelleswrld @strawberrysturniolo @dailysturniolo @deatthmatch @hoesformatt @justangelheree @klarasmith @kvtie444 @cabincorematt @caitifilms @bluesturniolo333 @mattsturnioloswattpad

[jamespotterismydaddy]

Training Session

luke castellan x reader

A/N: had a cutie little request for this so i hope it delivers everything you wanted

WARNINGS: SMUT!, semi-public sex, knife kink, jealous luke, getting caught (oopsie)

WORD COUNT: 1,073 words

“You know, anyone in this camp would be bloody grateful to train with me.” Luke says as he shoves you to the ground with his shield after you cursed him out for about the fifth time during the sparring session.

“You’re an arrogant dickhead.” You snap at him as you pull yourself back to your feet.

“It isn’t arrogance if it’s backed up.” He states as he swings at you, barely giving you a chance to block the attack at your throat.

“Gods, Luke. You nearly took my head off!”

“I didn’t though, did I?” He continues on the offence before you see your chance and swipe at his feet. It was a good move but you don’t make any contact. “Finally.” He murmurs. “This was starting to get pathetic.”

“Pathetic?” You scoff, your anger rising. “If I had a dagger in my hands, you’d be dead in seconds.”

“At least I can handle a dagger. You look like a clumsy toddler wielding that sword.” He laughs, attacking you again and knocking the steel from your hands.

Was he just toying with you?

“I don’t know why I even put up with your shit.” You start to reach down for your sword, planning to collect your things and leave before you’re stopped by the feeling of the sharpest part of his blade against your throat.

“Training with me makes you better.” He says assuredly as he lifts your head with the tip of his sword until you’re standing straight. You don’t think he would cut you… but he might.

“I could also train with another man to make myself better.” You say snarkily.

His eyes darken and he grabs your arm to pull you closer to him, his sword is still held to your neck like he might slit it. “You won’t. No other guy can do what I can.”

“I could always try one out.” You say, sensing the possession in his voice.

“I won’t let you.” He growls.

“What are you going to do to stop me?”

Silence for 1… 2… 3 seconds and then his lips are smashed against yours. He carelessly tosses his sword to the side. It doesn’t matter nearly as much as what he is going to do to you right now.

“Luke,” You murmur as you pull away. “Someone is gonna see.”

He smirks. “You must really wanna kiss me if all you’re worried about is privacy. Besides, everyone is at dinner by now.” His lips chase yours as he tries to pull you in for another kiss.

“And we should be at dinner too.” You protest.

“No, we should be laying you down on the bench and getting out all this pent up tension.”

You have to admit that his strength from before was turning you on. What girl doesn’t like to be pinned down with a sword pressed to her throat… and another one pressed to her thigh.

“Someone will catch us.”

“Not if you’re extra quiet.” He keeps pecking tantalizing kisses to your lips that distract you as he lies you down on the bench.

“I swear to the gods, if someone sees us, i’ll kill you.” You murmur as he pulls off your pants.

“As is your right.” He smirks as he pulls down your panties, eyes zeroed in on your sticky sweet cunt. “Can I?” He asks, looking into your eyes eagerly and you nod.

Your cheeks flush at the way he eats you out. You can feel the absolute yearning in his tongue as your fingers thread through his curly locks.

“Good girl, baby.” He murmurs against your pussy as you try to keep the whining mewls from falling from your lips.

You know you have to be quiet but you’ve never felt such pleasure in your life. You end up biting down on your tongue when you hit your peak so you barely let out a sound.

“Fuck, you taste so perfect.”

 He moves back up to kiss you, looking ever so pleased with himself as he palms at your tits. You feel him pressing against your thigh once again.

“Let me fuck you now?” It’s phrased as a question but you hear the dominance in his voice.

“Hmm… I guess so.” You say playfully, as if you don’t need him so achingly.

“You think so? I’ll have you begging by the end of this.” Luke says and you feel his cock sliding through your wetness, collecting it as lubricant. 

It doesn’t even sting when he pushes into you, not with how desperately you want for him. He looks into your eyes again, gaging how you’re doing before he begins to thrust. You feel as if you’re being sent to heaven and back with each movement.

“You think another guy could fuck you this good?” He says as he starts to pound into you.

“No, Luke.” You whine with each slam of his hips.

“No man will ever train or take care of you as well as I can. I’ll kill the bastard who thinks he can match me.” He fucks into you so hard that you start seeing stars. “Say it. Say no man compares to me.” He commands.

“No guy compares, Luke… there’s only you.”

You squirm a little as he lifts one of your legs to hook over his shoulder. You aren’t sure if you can handle how much deeper he gets in the new position. His hand slips up your shirt now so he can feel your skin on his and the look on his face is angelic. Mortals compare beautiful men to Greek Gods all the time but Luke doesn’t look like just any half-blood; he truly does look like a god. You swear that if you saw Eros in person, he would be imaged after Luke himself.

“Mmm i’m gonna cum.” You breathe out.

“I know, baby. You can cum.” He coos, giving you the last thrusts you need before you’re squeezing around him. The pressure alone is enough to cause him to spill himself inside of you. “You did so well, princess, so well.”

He presses one more soft kiss to your lips before helping you to get dressed, whispering kind words into your ear as he does. All would have been fine and well… If Luke had a chance to pull his jeans back up before Percy walked around the corner.

“Hey guys, everyone is wondering whe- oh what the fuck.”

taglists (comment to be added): General: @valeskafics @urmomsgirlfriend1 @girlwith-thepearlearring @darylandbethfanforever9 @lovellies @juhdoche @papichulo120627 @watercolorskyy @ophelialaufey @aerangi @ravenclawprincess33

Luke Castellan: @amortencjja @urmomsbananabread @kissingyourgrl @vikimontethegirlblogger @maryann2013 @stark-head @remussbitch @ever8ea @batmandabest @jennapancake @junos-web @tanifsblog @stupidtween  @10ava01

[takerfoxx]

Miorine: How DARE you ruin my escape plan! You owe me for this! Take responsibility!

Suletta: Wow, you're cute.

Miorine: SO ARE YOU, BUT I'M STILL MAD!

...

Miorine: Congrats. We're engaged.

Suletta: But I'm a girl!

Miorine: ...yes, and?

...

Miorine: Don't worry, this is just a mutually beneficial arrangement. I'll help you adjust to school life around here, and you keep the other suitors off my back until I dip, then the engagement will be broken and you can do whatever you want.

Suletta: Okay, gucci.

Miorine: ...kind of actually want to gay marry you, though.

Suletta: What?

Miorine: Nothing! Idiot!

...

Miorine: How DARE those cheating assholes arrest Suletta! I'm going to go down there and give my lousy father a piece of my mind!

Feng Jun: You know, we can still take you to Earth. Actually, we can leave right now. No need to bother with all that other stuff.

Miorine: ...

Feng Jun: So, is that a yes?

Miorine: I've decided that I actually want to gay marry that girl. Take me to her!

...

Suletta beats Guel for the second time.

Miorine: I would let her do terrible things to me and thank her for it.

Shaddiq: What?

Miorine: Nothing!

...

Miorine: I will protect that girl, because I am her bride!

Suletta: Oh shit, I actually want to get gay married.

...

Miorine: Our communication SUCKS, but I really do need you and want you to need me too. Do you want to get gay married for real?

Suletta: YES!

...

Suletta makes tomato sauce of that guy.

Suletta: Ms. Miorine, I came to save you!

Miorine: That was the most horrifying thing I've ever seen in my life! I have PTSD now! Kind of hot, though...

Suletta: What?

Miorine: Nothing! Murderer!

...

Miorine: Suletta, I'm breaking up with you, because you're a sap and I'm a bitch. Peace.

Suletta: NO! I WANT TO GET GAY MARRIED!

Miorine: ME TOO, DAMN IT! I LOVE YOU MORE THAN LIFE ITSELF AND IT'S KILLING ME TO HAVE TO HURT YOU LIKE THIS, BUT I HAVE TO BREAK YOU AWAY FROM THIS HORRIBLE WORLD IF YOU WANT TO HAVE HALF A CHANCE OF LIVING A NORMAL LIFE, EVEN THOUGH I WILL HATE MYSELF EVERY DAY FOR HAVING TO DO THIS TO YOU!

Suletta: ...what.

Miorine: I mean...see yah, loser!

...

Suletta: Ms. Miorine, could you please come out?

Miorine: I'm the lowest of the low. I did terrible things to you and other people. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I was only being used, and ended up hurting those closest to me for no reason. I'm a fool.

Suletta: So...do you still wanna get gay married?

Miorine: Yes, please.

...

Miorine headbutts Suletta

Miorine: Don't you dare die on me, idiot! We still need to get gay married!

Suletta: I swear to God, if I had working limbs and we didn't need these suits to survive the vacuum of space, I'd tear them right off of us and ravish you so hard it'll send you past Permet 8 and your dead tomato mom will feel it.

Miorine: What?

Suletta: You heard me.

Miorine: I'm taking that as a promise, then!

...

Suletta: So. We got gay married.

Miorine: Yes, we did.

Eri: Please don't make out sloppy-style again.

Miorine: We're doing it.

Eri: I'm still right here!

Miorine: Cope.

[sweet-as-an-angel]

MW2 Reaction to You Asking Them to be Gentle

Warnings: 18+ (Just To Be Safe), Non-Graphic Depictions of Smut, Implied Consensual Dub-Con, Dominant MW2, Jealous MW2, Slut-Shaming, Strap-On, Shock Collar, Implied Infidelity (Nobody’s Actually Cheated, it’s Just for The Bit), Age Gap (Price), Restraints, Slight Implied Dumbification, Implied Threesome, Petnames, Profanity No Pronouns used for Reader except ‘You’.

Ghost

“Aw, am I hurtin’ you, Love ?” he asks, ceasing his pace for just a moment. His body is hot and thick behind you, a wall, a barrier.

When you nod, your eyes glistening with budding tears and your hands gripping the bed sheets, Simon places a hand upon your cheek. Gentle. His thumb strokes your chin, and his eyes are kind.

Until they aren’t.

They sharpen in an instant, and, without warning, he pulls back, inch by inch, and slams back in. You yelp, winded, wincing at the pain revitalising in your lower half. But he doesn’t let you flee, grabbing you by the shoulders and forcing you to take all of him.

“Should’ve thought about that before practically sitting on Johnny’s cock, you little fuckin’ whore,”

It doesn’t matter how many times you try to tell him that Soap had pulled you into his lap as a joke – a gesture of friendship, not a phallic item or intention in sight  – Ghost isn’t having any of it.

“You won’t even be able to sit down without thinkin’ of me,” he says. His eyes dark, he growls, pulling back for the killing finish. “Or I’ll just have to put the fear of God into you again,” And he slams in, harsh, unflinching, sharp. And you scream, your vision turning white as you reach your end.

König

“I know, Engel,” he says, breathless. His eyes are piercing, fire and ice. And a thin, cruel smile stretches across his face.

Before you can react, even hope to retaliate, he takes your wrists beneath his hands and pins them above your head. You writhe and you struggle, only to be met with a low moan from König.

“Don’t tempt me, Darling,” he says. “Or I won’t be able to control myself when I snap,”

You can tell by his tone that he’s not letting you off easily. Not after your ‘flirtatious’ conversation with the barista from your excursion into town earlier.

When you feel tears prick your throat, König shushes you.

“Oh, shh, Engel, it’s too late for tears now.” You swear you see his eye twitch. His body bears down on yours, scorching and heavy and impossible to fight.

He lowers his head beside your ear, and, sibilant, licks the shell.

“Besides,” he whispers. He grinds into you. Slowly. Warning.

“You wouldn’t want to encourage me now, would you ?”

Soap

“Oh no, Bonnie; the time for kindness and compassion is over,” Johnny said as he tightened his belt around your wrists, pulling it so escape was a distant dream for you. He had you caged beneath him, a smile curved with a certain brand of unscrupulousness only he could wear at his lips.

“After all, what did you say to Simon again ? That I’m ‘gentle as anything’ ?” The second you’d said it, no matter how innocent your intent, you knew you shouldn’t have. If Simon’s gaze flickering to your boyfriend, who loomed just over your shoulder, was anything to go by, you knew the end was nigh.

“Do you know,” he took your chin between his fingers, forcing you to look at him, making you wince. “How many people I’ve killed ?”

Your heart dropped. Soap – for this was no longer the Johnny you’d come to know and love – released a brief, almost incredulous laugh. “D’ya think they’d call me gentle ? Loving and sweet ?”

Shaking your head, you hoped that by playing along you could negate whatever was coming next. Of course, any and all efforts would be in vain.

“Well,” Soap glowered, his hand encompassing your jaw, gripping you. He ground against you, growled. “I suppose I’ll just have to give you a demonstration, won’t I ?”

Valeria

“Oh ? Gentle ?” she says. Her voice is low and dangerous – you know because you’ve accidentally seen – heard – glimpses of her interrogation tapes. You know what’s coming for you – especially when she has your face pressed against her desk, her strap-on dangerously close to penetration, though hanging just out of frame. A threat.

“Is that what you thought I was going to be when you let that slimy, arrogant prick of a bartender slobber all over you ? Practically let him bend you over the counter and fuck you raw,”

Negotiation with Valeria is impossible – something else you’d gleaned from her tapes. And denial is even worse. But admitting to what she was accusing you of would be the signature on your death warrant. And she knows she has you cornered.

You can feel her tip prodding your hole. She didn’t even bother to lubricate you or prepare you.

“Shouldn’t need to. What, with that bartender already having done that for me.”

She knows the bartender did no such thing, but feeling you cower beneath her is too euphoric for her to even comfort you.

Without warning, she slams into you, only stopping halfway when your body refuses to take more of her, her obscenely long strap-on too thick for you to even fathom as you cry out, scream, tears falling to the desk’s surface beneath you.

Price

“You think, after all you’ve done, that you deserve my mercy ?”

Price’s grip on his belt was palpable, tightening, making the leather whine and whimper in his grasp. You could feel his teeth gritting, his stare hard. His voice held a cynicism you’d scarcely heard in his tone before. Not directed towards you, anyway.

“You go and chat up another guy and you have the audacity to believe that you’re worthy of even an ounce of my sympathy ?” 

The context behind Price’s upset was all rooted in misunderstanding; he’d seen some younger, attractive guy chatting you up, and you, trying to be polite until your boyfriend returned, smiled. Which, in John’s eyes, was reciprocation. And now, you were paying the price.

“Tell you what,” he said, his stern features shifting to portray ill intent, an idea sparking in his mind. He lunged, grabbed you by your ankle and pulled you down the bed – closer to him. His belt remained gripped in his other hand.

“If you can take – say – twenty lashes, and count them – without missing a single one – I’ll think about being gentle.”

He brought his belt down on your thigh, making you cry out. “And then you can tell me all about how he’d be gentle with you – how he could unravel you like I can.” His gaze, dark with the oncoming storm, narrowed. “How he can have you like this.”

Horangi

“Is that what you said to König when he had you like this ?” Horangi hissed. He had you pinned beneath him, eyes blackened with the false conviction of your infidelity.

And, try as you might to ease his misunderstanding, to remind him that he’s the only one you love, you hear something.

The squeak of hinges, the swinging of the bedroom door opening.

You couldn’t see – think – for Horangi’s frame bolted to yours, but through the rushing of blood and Horangi’s beration, you heard a most unmistakable tone.

“Liar, liar, liar,” came König’s voice, punctuated with three broad, heavy steps. He loomed over Horangi’s shoulder, arms behind his back, the smile of deceit a tune upon his face.

A slinking, sly smile threaded Horangi’s lips as he kept his eyes on you, turning his head to address König. “I’ll see how much truth I can get out of (Y/N) first,” he said, and, like a soundtrack, the sound of König’s belt sliding from his pants lay a dark undertone – the instrument. “Then it’s your turn.”

One hand collecting your wrists, the other tearing the belt from his jeans, Horangi gave you his full, undivided attention. As did König. “Seeing as you’re so desperate for another man on the side,” said Horangi, “Let’s see how you take both of us.”

Alejandro

“Don’t lie to me, mi Corazon,” Alejandro says, ignoring your plea, one hand around your throat, the other on your thigh, grasping, groping, grabbing at your skin.

“I saw you – whispering in his ear, telling him God-knows-what,”

Alejandro is on top of you, his weight an immovable object, his stare dark and unforgiving. You can feel him sat just out of reach of your epicentre, but not out of bounds.

What he’d seen was you, smiling, whispering into Rudy’s ear about something sultry. What had actually happened was you were confirming the details of Alejandro’s surprise birthday party with him, smiling because you were so excited to get it organised.

But you couldn’t tell Alejandro that; it would ruin the surprise !

When Alejandro’s more tame efforts to get you to talk proved fruitless, he took to his preferred method of extraction.

He ground against you, letting out a low, shuttering moan.

“You can’t hide the truth from me forever,” he said, with all the conviction of one who has only ever known truth. “So if you’re not gonna tell me while you still have your faculties,” He squeezed your throat, his other hand slithering up your thighs, stopping shy of your centre and unbuckling his belt.

“I’ll just have to force it out of you. Break you down until you’re nothing but a fuck toy.” His eyes are almost black now. “My fuck toy.”

Rodolfo

“Next time you want someone gentle, why don’t you go running to Alejandro, seeing as you seem to like having him slobber over you.”

You couldn’t argue back, couldn’t defend yourself, your mouth gagged with a t-shirt Rudy had tied around your head. You couldn’t even unravel it, Rodolfo’s hands pinning yours beside your head as he pressed into you from behind.

“Hm ? Got nothing to say, mi Corazon ?” Rudy sneers. “Pity, seeing as you couldn’t shut the fuck up around your boyfriend earlier.” 

As if to drive the point home, to hit the nail on the head, he rammed into you, making you whine, the shirt soaking up your cries and your drool. Your eyes shone with tears, but you dared not cry – not around Rudy. Not while he had you at his mercy.

“You won’t stop until you have all of us wrapped around your little finger, will you.” he said. It wasn’t a question, nor did he allow you to answer as he slammed into you again. “Luckily for you, I’m a good man. One who knows how to handle injustice when he sees it.” His grip on your thighs was almost painful, and were it not for the reluctant euphoria building within you, you’d have tried to break free.

“It’s up to me to force it out of you – to erase that entitled mindset of yours.” He pulled out, forced all of himself back inside, sharp. His breath shuttered while yours choked, your scream caught in your throat. 

“Don’t worry, Ángel,” he breathed, lowering himself so his lips were to your shoulder, pressing a deceptively soft kiss there. “By the time I’m done, there won’t be a single thought left in that brain of yours apart from me.”

Graves

“Don’t you fucking tell me what to do, Whore – you lost that privilege hours ago,” Graves says, threat heavy in his voice. He stands over you, face awash with a dense egoism you know is only worn when he has decided to take his frustrations out on you.

And today is no exception.

The collar about your neck is a reminder of all that you stand to lose should you fail to comply with Graves’ vision – your freedom; made excruciatingly clear to you by the locked bedroom door behind him, the key hanging in the lock.

No matter how you try to reason with Graves, he is having none of it.

“Shh, Sweetheart, now’s not the time for tears–” he says. The threatening tone in his voice remains, only the name he calls you changes. And the more endearing they become, the closer to danger you are.

He slides open the bedside table, reaches in and withdraws a pair of silver handcuffs, clinking together with a deceptive veneer of gentile.

“If you wanna get on my good side again, you have to do exactly as I say, precisely when I say so.” He cocks his head, a slim, coy smile spreading across his face like a disease. “Y’understand, Beautiful ?”

Gaz

“Gentle, gentle – is that all you have to say for yourself ?” Gaz spat, pacing back and forth before you as he kept a keen, sharp eye on you. “After everything you’ve done tonight, you think I’ll let you off easy ?”

The ‘everything’ Gaz was referring to had been your efforts to get a reaction out of him. Bending over at inopportune times, accidentally only wearing one of his shirts and a pair of his boxers while the rest of your clothes were in the wash (or had mysteriously vanished.

And, your worst offence, sitting under his desk while he held a very important online call with Captain price. All the while, you’d poked and prodded and stroked him, tested his resolve, his patience.

And, evidently, you’d gone too far. 

With the remote to the shock collar squeezing your neck attached to the very fibres of his hand, Gaz held all the cards, your sanity the Ace of the deck.

Before you could try to defend yourself, a thin spark sent you yelping, made you jump. Your hands flew to the collar, trying to pull its rounded teeth — the conductors – from your skin.

Gaz only smiled. “Oh no, Love – I won’t be gentle,” his tone was low, a serpent in the grass, his visage matching as he lowered himself to your level, eyes aglow with a piercing darkness. “If only you’d behaved, it wouldn’t have come to this.”

Reblog for more content like this! It helps creators like myself tremendously and it is greatly appreciated :-)

Masterlist Masterlist [Continued] Masterpost Modern Warfare AI Masterlist

AO3 Wattpad

[nebulaafterdark]

Dracarys (Part 3)

Part 1 | Part 2

Summary: if you know, you know. Post Dance AU

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

18+ ONLY MDNI Targcest, knife!play, smut, angst

This night Y/N decides, she is going to kill Aegon. When his back is to her, when he is least expecting it, she pulls out her knife. Stalking up behind him, she counts to steady her breathing. On one, two-

Aegon whips around, his own dagger held between them.

All the air leaves her lungs as he grins at her.

“Do it,” he dares her. “Or I will.”

Her hand trembles. “How shall I do it?”

“A clean cut across my throat, that’s what I would do. Make it quick.”

“Do it then,” Y/N decides. “Do it, free us both.”

“Providing a way out which allows you to cling to your precious virtue is not nearly as stimulating. I want my blood on your hands. I want you to bathe in it, choke on it.”

Y/N keens as he backs her against the wall, now trapped beneath their blades.

“Is it not what you want?”

“At times.” She breathes.

“What do you want in the rest of the time?”

“You said yourself, you and I are fated to dance.”

His lips are on hers then, before either of them can do a thing to stop it. Drawn together by an invisible string, one neither of them are able to press down and sever.

Her blade nips Aegon’s skin and a low groan rumbles out from his chest. “Sorry,” she apologizes, realizing what she’s done. “I am sorry.”

He drags the tip of his dagger along the front of her gown, tearing it open. “This is where I ordered my guards to cut your mother, so Sunfyre would smell blood.”

Suddenly she doesn’t feel guilty for cutting him, wishing only that she’d done it deeper.

“Even my dragon did not want to harm her.”

“Mayhaps that was your sign from the gods.” Y/N challenges.

“The same gods which sent you to me? I care little for their signs anymore.”

Y/N moves her blade to her side.

“Ah, ah, ah, my dearest love.” He brings her knife back to his neck, “we must get it out of your system.”

“No,” she whimpers.

Aegon clicks his tongue at her. “I wasn’t asking. Either we end each other here or you stop fighting me.”

“I do not know how to stop.” It has been too long, years of betrayal between them.

His eyes search hers, she is telling the truth. “It would require forgiveness.”

“Could you forgive me? Well and truly, for all of it? Tell me now.”

“Say please.” Aegon licks his lips.

“Tell me now, please.” This is a mockery. A performance, a show, but she wants-

“I could, in time. After all, I have little choice. We can’t go on like this.”

Y/N burns, the awful part of her tethered to him, pulled taut. “Please, I want to touch you.”

Aegon grits his teeth. “You will never raise a blade to me again. Swear it.”

“I swear this to you, on the memory of my mother.”

Aegon bats her knife away, “touch me.”

Y/N buries her hands in his hair, kissing him in earnest. Licking into his mouth, along the backs of his teeth, dancing along his tongue.

Aegon nips at her lips, peeling her away from the wall to sit on the bed. The ruins of her tattered dress join his clothes. “Is this what you want?”

Y/N hesitates, before nodding.

A slow smile spreads across his lips, “why?”

“Because there is no point in denying myself the comfort of being one with you.” You are all I have.

Aegon traces the line of her jaw with his index finger. Trailing down her neck and sternum, past her belly, to her cunt; finding her dripping. Without a word, he lines up his cock, splitting her open.

She lurches toward him in surprise. Pressing against his chest, “fuck.”

“Hush now.” He takes her wrists, pinning them to the sheets, on either side of her head. Staring down at her hands, curled into fists; he is overcome by the urge to hold them. Slowly he unfurls her fingers, linking his own between them and squeezing.

Y/N squeezes back.

“Keep your eyes on me.” Aegon breathes, rocking against her.

She pries her lids open, perfect lips ajar, fighting for breath. Any time he called for her in his bed, her eyes were screwed shut.

“Terrifying, isn’t it? To desire something so badly, beyond all reason?” He moves faster, fucking her in earnest and not just to pass the time.

“Yes,” she breathes.

“Be mine,” he murmurs. “Be mine and the rest will sort. You will not be lonely, you needn’t be angry or afraid, you will be mine and nothing more.”

“And you would be mine, in return?”

“If that is what you want.”

Y/N feels the coil in her belly tighten, “that is what I want.”

Aegon reaches down to her pearl, rubbing in tight circles, until her breath hitches. “I love you still.” He rests his forehead against hers. “I do not want to, I have tried so desperately to stop.”

“Please.” Y/N shakes her head, a fresh batch of tears falling upon her cheek.

“You need only say it once.”

“I cannot.” Y/N sobs, “I will die if I say it.” From the guilt and the shame, from the bitter truth of it all.

“The words taste of fire and blood, but you will feel better once you’ve purged them.”

Y/N grapples with it, though in the end, she is as powerless as she’s ever been to stop it. “I love you.”

The world explodes around them, collapsing in on itself, as they both burn.

Reborn from the ashes.

[puckinghischier]

Locksmith - Nico Hischier

nico hischier x fem!reader, jack hughes x platonic!reader, luke hughes x platonic!reader

summary: reader has been friends with the hughes brothers for years, and when she finally arrives in Jersey to move in with her best friends, she finds herself locked out and stuck in the hallway, with only the neighbor to save her

notes: this is my first time ever writing ANYTHING, so this could be terrible. BUT it’s really only a peek at where i want the story to go so possible series if anyone actually wants to read it??? 🫣

part 2, part 3, part 4

[2.4k]

~

You know, three suitcases didn’t seem like enough when you were packing, but trying to roll three suitcases down the long, carpeted hallway is proving to be one of the most difficult tasks you’ve ever had to do in your life.

Seriously, the building didn’t look this long from the outside.

After a trek that felt like miles, you reach the door you’ve been scanning for, only to find it locked tight. “I swear to god I’m literally going to kill them,” you said to yourself, out loud. “They tell the doorman to let me in, have me bring all this luggage up by myself, only to leave the fucking door locked. Why did I expect anything less?”

Grabbing your phone, you dial Jack’s number, silently begging him to pick up. You know he’s at a charity thing with Luke, but surely he’s allowed to answer his phone, right? Wrong. His phone goes straight to voicemail, twice. Classic Jack. You know there’s not any point to calling Luke, he always leaves his phone during charity events in order to connect with the kids better. Usually you find that endearing and admirable, but right now you wish that he was maybe just a bit more selfish.

“Well, I guess I live in the hallway now. Hope the carpet is plush enough to sleep on.” You’ve always had a habit of talking out loud to yourself when you’re nervous or, in this case, annoyed. It helps you work through your thoughts and not dwell on anything for too long. Purges your emotions a bit.

“Trust me, it’s not. Speaking from experience here, you’d be much better off sleeping on the couches in the lobby” a voice startles you.

“Oh my god,” you jumped. You turned around to see the door to the apartment behind you wide open, a dark haired man leaning against the doorway, smile on his face.

“I- how long have you been standing there?” you asked, hand on your chest trying to calm your racing heart.

“Long enough to know you’re thinking about sleeping on the carpet, not long enough to know why,” he states, humor lacing his tone.

“Well, if you must know, my roommates left the door locked, no spare key, and won’t answer their phones. So, until they get home, the hallway is my new bedroom,” you surveyed the stranger.

He was tall, much taller than you were. He wore a simple white t-shirt, black sweatpants, and a backwards hat on his head, hiding what looked like hair that was in need of a trim based on how much it was spilling out the sides of the hat. But what made you stop in your tracks were his eyes. You don’t think you had ever truly understood the phrase ‘warm eyes’ until now. They were the most spectacular shade of brown you had ever seen in your life. And they were filled with amusement. Amusement directed towards you, since he had just heard you talking to yourself like a madwoman.

“Ahh, you must be Y/N! I thought Jack said you weren’t coming until tomorrow?” He asked, understanding washing over his face.

“I caught an earlier flight and was going to surprise them. However, Jack texted me earlier this morning and told me he and Luke had to go to a charity skate, so I had to tell them I was coming early. He told me he’d leave the door unlocked so I could go ahead and settle in, but, as you can see, they did not,” you explained, only slightly shocked Jack told his neighbor about you. That boy sure liked to talk, yapping anyone’s ear off who would listen.

“Well, lucky for you, I happen to have a spare key you can use,” the stranger tells you, walking out of your view for a brief moment.

“Should I be concerned that the neighbor has a spare key? Does he just go around handing out spares left and right?” you ask, starting to feel a bit awkward standing among all of your luggage.

“No, not exactly,” the man laughs. “He gave me a spare after one too many nights of me hauling him home from the bar only to realize he didn’t have his key with him.”

He walks out of his apartment, a small golden key in hand. The stranger, whose name you forgot to ask, unlocks the door and stands back with a warm smile on his face.

“There, you just got upgraded to a real bedroom,” he recalls, standing in the now open doorway.

“I would say thank you, but I’m still a little concerned that a strange man just had to let me into my own apartment,” you (semi) joke, attempting to gather your suitcases.

“I’m Nico,” he explains, taking the suitcase you were struggling to heave into the apartment.

“Oh, you’re the captain!” you exclaim, recalling all the times Jack and Luke had talked about their beloved leader to you. “Jack never mentioned you lived next door!”

“That’s me. I only just moved in about a week ago. Was looking for a place closer to the rink and Jack told me about his previous neighbors moving out, so I decided to move in. Nice having them just across the hall. They’re like the little brothers I never had,” Nico pronounces brothers like ‘brudders’. You nearly forgot Jack had mentioned he was from Switzerland, too distracted to have picked up on his accent before now.

“Yeah, they seem to have that effect on people, huh?” you understood the sentiment behind Nico’s words all too well.

You’ve known Jack, Luke, and Quinn since you were all kids. Your family owned the lake house next to theirs when you were growing up. You spent every summer with them up until Quinn got drafted to the Canucks a few years back. Then Jack to the Devils, then Luke following Jack. Your families grew incredibly close to one another over the years, though. Trips to visit the other outside of the summer months became a regular occurrence. Trips to watch their hockey games, traveling to watch Luke play college hockey, and attending their drafts. These three were the brothers you never had but always wanted. They treated you like their own sister from the very start.

“They especially have the annoying aspect of younger brothers perfected,” Nico replied, both of you fully inside your new apartment now.

“God, don’t I know it,” you laughed.

Looking up, you finally took in your new home. Geez, this place is nice. It shouldn’t surprise you, really, with how much Jack and Luke both make, but the apartment is like, really nice. Definitely out of your price range, by likely a couple thousand dollars. You suddenly feel bad that Jack refused to let you pay any share of the rent. You had fought him on it, several times. He insisted that they had the spare bedroom anyways, and they had no trouble making rent as is. You demanded that you contribute in some way, so you were now tasked with grocery shopping and cooking for two professional hockey players. Honestly, after seeing the meal plans the team nutritionist gave them, it might be a fair trade.

It's only as you look over towards the kitchen at the thought of having to go grocery shopping soon, you realize Nico is still there. He’s just standing there, watching you take in your surroundings, lost in your own thoughts.

“Well, thanks for not letting me waste away in the hallway. And helping me with my luggage. I think someone from TSA filled my suitcases with rocks or something. I swear it didn’t seem like I had that much stuff when I left home,” you explain, not knowing what else to say to the stranger.

“No problem, seriously. I feel like I’m over here more than I’m at my own apartment, anyways. Jack is always calling me to come over or insisting that we have to watch game film together after practice. It’s a little concerning how obsessed he is with hockey. I mean, I’m the captain of the team and I feel like I spend less time thinking about work than he does,” Nico chuckles, not seeming to want to end the conversation just yet.

“God, don’t even get me started. I’ve had to listen to him ramble on and on about hockey for years. I’m just glad someone else finally understands my pain.”

“You know, the only other subject he seems to talk about as much as hockey is you. And his family, but according to him the two are one in the same. Every time I’ve seen him this week, which is nearly every day, he’s updated me on the countdown to when you were set to arrive. He’s seriously excited to have you here. They both are. It’s nice to finally put a face to the name,” Nico reveals.

You and Jack had always been the closest out of the three brothers. With your age falling directly in-between Quinn and Jack, you and Jack had the most common interests as a kid. Quinn was always trying to be the grown one, not concerning himself with whatever you and Jack were interested in while growing up. As teens, Quinn was always training or going off by himself to do who knows what. Luke was still slightly too young to go off with you and Jack alone, so it was usually just the two of you embarking on your own little adventures on those summer days. Once Jack got his boating license neither of your parents would let Luke go out on the water without them. So, more often than not, you and Jack would take the boat to God knows where in the middle of the lake and spend the whole day there, not returning until after dark. Those days were your favorite to think back on. The conversations between you and Jack never ceased to flow. From hockey, to your boy troubles back home, to whatever girl Jack wanted to impress that summer, to what your lives would look like one day, to always vowing to be in each other’s lives, even if he became a big shot hockey player that lived on the other side of the world.

“Yeah, well, he always has been the sentimental type, no matter how hard he tries to deny it,” you chuckle, a fond smile finding its way onto your face.

“Well, I guess I’ll be seeing you around, Y/N. If you ever find yourself faced with sleeping in the hallway again, you know where to find me,” Nico drops his eye into a wink, walking over to the door and opening it once again.

“Thank goodness someone around here understands the severity of the situation at hand. Me and my back thank you,” you wave your arms around for dramatic effect, walking to take hold of the open door as he steps into the hallway and back into his own doorway.

“Welcome to Jersey. We’re glad to have you here,” Nico turns to face you after he’s back in his own apartment, a genuine smile settled on his face.

“Thanks, Nico. It’s good to be here,” you respond, matching his smile, thinking of how well it suits him.

———————————————————————————

“Y/n!!!! Where are you!?” you hear, currently elbow deep in suitcase number two, trying your hardest to unpack everything. You really don’t know how you managed to fit so much clothing in three suitcases. Or how you ended up with so many clothes to begin with. You stand up and start making your way to the door of your bedroom, hand on the doorknob as it flies open, revealing a very excited looking Jack and Luke. You suddenly feel your body flying forward, face hitting a clothed shoulder.

“Ow! Jack, that was my nose!” you tried to say, but everything was muffled because of how tight your body was being held in place. Seriously, he acts like he hadn’t seen you in years. You were literally here a few months ago to visit and arrange plans to move in. Leave it to Jack to always bring the dramatics.

“Just a few more seconds, I missed you,” he mumbles, squeezing even tighter, if that was even possible.

“Jack, no fair! Quit hogging her, I missed her too!”

“Luke, please save me. I might suffocate soon if he doesn’t let go,” you beg the younger brother.

“Oh my god, will you two quit being dramatic? Can’t a man be excited his best friend is finally moving in after months of waiting?” Jack whines as he releases his hold on you.

“No one said you couldn’t be excited, Rowdy, but suffocating me two minutes into living together might not be the best way to show your excitement,” you say, smoothing out your sweatshirt and making your way towards the open arms of the younger, yet much larger, brother.

“Oh Moose, how have you been? Have you been getting enough sleep?” You question, always worried about his wellbeing, especially these past few weeks.

“Yeah, m’alright. A little tired, but we have some home games lined up soon. I’ll catch up on sleep then,” he responds, squeezing you a little tighter at the end of his sentence.

Luke’s rookie year has been a rollercoaster not only for him, but for you as well. You worry about the youngest Hughes, having such a soft spot for the boy. You know he’s talented, and you know he’ll do well, but you can see the exhaustion on his face and in his actions. You know he carries the weight of the foul comments he receives about his gameplay, and you try your hardest to take some of it off of his shoulders.

“Alright, but now that I’m here just know I’ll be holding you to that,” a stern look on your face.

Turning back around towards Jack, you find him surveying your room, looking over the mess you created in the few hours it took for them to return home.

“So, are you going to spend the rest of the day unpacking, or can we go have some fun and celebrate the fact that you live in New Jersey now?” Jack spoke, looking at the pictures you decided to display, most of them pictures of you and the brothers throughout the years.

“I mean, I was hoping to get as much done today as I can, but I’m guessing you’ve already made plans, huh?”

“You would be correct. We’re leaving at 8, be ready,” is all Jack says, before dragging Luke out of your room.

[cece693]

Can We Kill Her? (Jasper Whitlock x M! Vamp Reader)

This is a short thing I wrote before focusing on the next parts of Velvet Ring. It's not my best work (in my opinion), but it's fun. Hope you enjoy it!

Summary: Jasper really needs to be given an award for not killing the human, Bella Swan, for encroaching on what's his.

tags: jealous Jasper, petty Jasper, Edward is dumb, Bella bashing, The Cullens are no help, Rosalie is cool, Bella is obsessed with the wrong brother

Jasper's hands clenched into fists, the tension rippling through his body like a coiled spring ready to snap. His amber eyes burned with a dark intensity as he stood by the car, watching Bella Swan hover around you like a fucking mosquito. The human girl had no idea what kind of fire she was playing with, and Jasper wasn’t sure how much longer he could keep his composure.

"I’ll kill her, I swear I’ll fucking kill her." he muttered under his breath, his Southern drawl sharper than usual, laced with venom. His eyes narrowed into slits as Bella smiled shyly up at you. This wasn’t the first time, and it was becoming increasingly clear that she had no intention of giving up. She was delusional, Jasper thought. There was no other explanation for her behavior. The girl believed she had a chance with you. As if you would want an appetizer when you already had a whole ass buffet. (Rosalie was really rubbing off on the soldier; his confidence and bluntness even scared him sometimes.)

"Jasper," Talking about his 'twin', Rosalie wore a smug smirk, her perfectly manicured nails tapping against her arm as she leaned against the car, unbothered. "She’s not worth the effort. Do you really believe M/N would be unfateful, much less with her? I will kill him myself if that ever happens." Despite the playfulness in her words, Jasper knew she was being reassuring in her own way, showing that she cared about you both.

Alice, who usually would intervene whenever someone bad mouthed the human, remained silent. Her eyes were fixed on Bella, a rare flicker of disapproval crossing her face. The future she had seen didn’t include Bella vying for your affections, and it unnerved her to no end. But, honestly, whatever included Bella Swan was irritating in itself.

Edward, on the other hand, stood like a statue, glowering. He was seething—his plan to play the hero had spectacularly backfired. Saving Bella from being crushed by that van hadn’t worked as he’d hoped. Instead of falling into his arms, Bella had transferred all her admiration, her obsession, onto you. This caused quite a rift in your non-existent relationship: it wasn't your fault Bella thought you were better than him, that just spoke to how Edward should change himself to attract a mate.

"Bella, stop." Your voice caused the rest of the Cullen siblings to look in your direction. "I tried to be nice, but perhaps I need to be blunt. I don't like you that way. However, you know who does?—Edward. My obnoxious, melodramatic..."

“Is he really trying to be a wingman while insulting you, Edward?” Emmett’s booming voice interrupted with a chuckle, and he shot you a grin, clearly amused by the unexpected turn of events. “Damn, that’s harsh, but at least he’s being honest.”

“Emmett, shut up!” Edward’s hiss was sharp, his patience fraying by the second.

Bella looked at you as if you just revealed you killed her father; face downcast, eyes brimming with tears. You didn't like it one bit. It was as if she didn't listen to what you were saying. Was she deaf?—why did God curse him with these good looks and personality? "Okay, look. I'm sorry, but I had to get that out there. I hope you take my advice, though. Perhaps a dinner at our house might help you see Edward in a new light."

At your words, Bella's mood visibly brightened. Now it was up to your brother Edward to do the rest. Leaving the human standing there, you returned to your siblings, who all had a range of angry, amused, and jealous expressions. But none mattered more than Jasper, whose fury made you feel gooey inside. "Babe," you whispered, "Don't give me that face. I'm just helping Edward finally get his head out of his ass and make a move."

"Does that also include you being on that said date and fucking her because our dear virgin brother is scared? This is not helping, this is just pushing her delusion further." Jasper glared at you, crossing his arms so as not to allow you to wrap yourself around him.

"Jasper, I think you're overreacting—"

"Really?! You know what. Fine, go play hero. But no sex for a month." You stood there, stunned, as the words sank in. A whole month? Jasper wasn’t bluffing, and you knew it. His cold, distant gaze as he settled into the back seat made that abundantly clear. Emmett’s booming laughter only made it worse, the sound grating against your nerves.

“Jasper, wait.” you called, but he didn’t even turn his head. Instead, he closed the car door with a loud thud, shutting himself away in an impenetrable wall of silence.

“Man, he’s really pissed,” Emmett teased, giving you a friendly slap on the shoulder that nearly knocked you off balance. “A whole month, huh? That’s rough, dude. Should’ve just told Bella to take a hike.”

“Yeah, thanks for the advice, Emmett.” you muttered sarcastically, throwing him a dirty look as he continued to snicker. You didn’t need his commentary right now, not when Jasper’s anger was already weighing so heavily on your chest.

You took a deep breath, pushing down the swirl of frustration and anxiety. There was no turning back now. This whole mess was your own doing, and the only way out was to see it through to the end. With a sigh, you opened the car door and slid into the driver's seat, casting a sideways glance at Jasper, who sat stiffly in the back, his arms crossed and his expression resolutely turned away.

The drive home was painfully silent. Jasper didn’t say a word, didn’t even look at you. His silence was worse than any argument, every second dragging out like an eternity. When you finally pulled up to the house, he got out of the car, slammed the door behind him, and headed inside without waiting for you.

Bella didn't waste time inviting herself to their home the next day. Edward picked her up, leaving you to deal with the tension between you and Jasper. The silent treatment from your husband was torture. You thrived off attention and affection, so even if it seemed exaggerated to others, you did feel like you were dying...again.

When Bella arrived, dressed in that blue dress that looked far too formal for a simple dinner, you felt your unease grow. Her eyes were glued to you the second she stepped through the door, blatantly forgetting about Edward, who was beside her, helping place her sweater on the coat rack. “Bella,” you said, forcing a polite smile. “I’m glad you could make it.”

She smiled, a hopeful glimmer in her eyes as she stepped closer. “Thanks for inviting me, M/N. I’m really happy to be here.”

“Of course,” you replied, trying not to wince at the clear undertone in her words. She was still holding on to that fantasy, just as Jasper had feared. You needed to put an end to it—and quickly. "I hope Edward will continue with the house tour. After all, he's the most excited about your company."

Bella nodded furiously, but it was clear she was just agreeing with you for the sake of it. Sighing, you motioned for the couple to head to the kitchen where the rest of the Cullens were preparing dinner. Bella conversed amicably with Esme, who was all too eager to meet this human who managed to steal her son's heart, but Carlisle's greeting was clipped. It's clear who knew more about the current tension and disapproved of Edward's love interest.

"And finally, we have Jasper, M/N's fiance." Edward finished, sighing when Bella's face fell.

"But I thought—"

"Well, you thought wrong." Jasper hissed, eyes narrowed at the human as he pushed himself from the corner of the room. He stood beside M/N, his hand wrapping around the slightly (taller/shorter) man.

"Jasper." Esme sternly said.

"No, I'm tired of watching how she throws herself at my soon-to-be husband. M/N has been pretty clear that he's not interested, yet Bella continues to push. Have some fucking respect for yourself."

"But you two are so young to be getting married—" Was Bella's only response to Jasper's statement, causing half of the room to roll their eyes. Now it was just sad and pathetic.

"Bella, we've been together for some time now. Do you really believe we would be making such a decision if we weren't sure?" It was M/N who replied, snuggling the cold body of his husband. Oh, how he missed this. "Now, with that out of the way, I believe Edward would be thrilled to continue with the tour."

[star-girl69]

Because Of You

Clarisse La Rue x Fem!AphroditeCabin!Reader

—-

synopsis: years after your rite of passage, the boy who’s heart you broke just won’t leave you alone. clarisse, your girlfriend, quickly decides she’s not a fan.

a/n: should i stop procrastinating and then forcing myself to write shitty fics quickly? probably. but not today!! this is kinda just like an au of dont delete the kisses but… you guessed it… IDC!!!!!!!! from this ask

thank you all so much for patiently waiting i love y’all soooooo muuccchhhhhh 🫶🫶💋 as i mentioned on my acc i have the next week off from school, pls expect more content then!!

Because Of You - Lana Del Rey (Unreleased)

warnings: NOT PROOFREAD, this sucks so bad y’all sorry lolllll, y/n is a year round camper!, starts out very background heavy but i really don’t care 😭, creepy men UGH, ugly bitches not being able to let shit go, im gonna say sexual harassment just incase, swearing, usual demigod stuff y’all know what you’re getting into, jealous!clarisse YESSS, possessive!clarisse ik i screamed!!, protective!clarisse too, slightly graphic makeout scene, i think that’s all, tell me if i missed anything!!

—-

When you were young, you were thrilled by the thought of love.

The idea of belonging not only with someone- bodies fitting together like puzzles pieces- but belonging to someone- wrapping around you like a warm blanket.

Later, your half-siblings would describe mostly similar experiences to yours- an overwhelming desire to be loved, wanted, needed. Ever since you ran into camp with a monster hot on your heels and satyr shouting encouragement next to you- everyone’s stared at you. They poke and prod, they act like they’ve never seen a daughter of Aphrodite before.

It’s annoying, but it makes you feel good- but not quite.

Until Alek came along.

You were both 13, you still believed in soulmates, and you wanted nothing more than to be with each other for the rest of your lives.

You were 13, and he felt like the only one for you.

And when you had to break up with him to fulfill your rite of passage- it felt like the world was ending. You cried for days and begged your sister Phoebe to say it wasn’t a true, it was just a mean, mean prank.

But she couldn’t tell you that, and there were more types of love that romantic.

While you longed to hold someone, to be held- you also craved your mother’s approval like you were starving. You wanted her love, you wanted her to visit you in your dreams, you wanted gifts from her, you wanted everything and anything she could give you.

So, it hurt like you had never known hurt before, but you did it. Alek seemed entirely indifferent to it, almost ignoring you and pretending you hadn’t said it- but you felt a warmness around you, a dove flew between trees, you knew your mother was there and she approved.

Breaking up with Alek felt like the sun had exploded on top of you.

Being with Clarisse felt like the sun was wrapped around you.

—-

After Alek’s initial denial, he went through all the other stages of grief, mourned your relationship like you did, and you came out on the other side with a one-sided agreement to forget it ever happened.

Alek got stuck. Or went back. He started to believe that you were still meant to be, that much you could tell.

Until that day at the training fields when your hand slipped at archery and you almost shot Clarisse in the head- and she had glared at you so harshly while you ran over and examined her head, gushing out apologies and fretting over her.

She pushed you away, hand lingering for a second, eyes softening before she quickly looked away.

“Just… be more careful,” she had said, almost like a question, like she wasn’t sure the words were coming out of her mouth.

And, Gods, were you terrified it was all some secret plan. Make you think it was alright only to corner you in the woods and probably kill you, or something.

And when she asked the next day to teach you how to shoot a bow, you agreed with tears in your eyes, knowing of her reputation, and it took a lot of trust and a lot of swapped secrets for her to prove to you it wasn’t all some elaborate plan.

But even if her plan was to kill you the entire time, you fell in love over her fixing your stance, hands brushing as you accidentally grabbed the same arrow, stolen looks across the pavilion.

It wasn’t until a random kid bumped into you, making you fall and twist your ankle. Clarisse had this look in her eyes that was so genuine, so full of love and care for you, softly caressing your leg after she had punched the other kid in the face.

And you realize as she said you were doing great, limping while she helped you to the infirmary, that this was something.

And as much as you hated the violence being committed over you, it was the hottest thing you’ve ever seen, and the warmth in your chest was all you had ever wanted. This was what it was like to belong with someone, to someone, with her, to her.

This was what it was like to be admired. Loved. Wanted. Needed.

And when she softly told you goodbye, you had kissed the corner of her lips and thanked her- turning to walk into your cabin, ankle already feeling better thanks to the ambrosia.

She grabbed you by the wrist and turned you around, pulling you against her tightly and kissing you so harshly like she had just found the secret to the world in her lips on yours, her hands on your hips.

And when she finally pulled away, embarrassing strings of spit connecting your lips, she said she was sorry. Probably the first time she had ever said that to someone, and you smiled.

“Sorry. It’s just… once your lips were on mine, I don’t think I can ever stop. I don’t wanna stop.”

And she kissed you again and it was all you ever wanted out of this life- to love and be loved, to hold and to be held, and it was all because of her.

—-

The welcome back campfire is your favorite time of year.

It’s when the camp comes alive, when the Gods themselves seem to return to this place- even Mr. D is a bit more lively with all the pure infectious energy running through the first few days of camp. Everyone’s getting settled, classes haven’t started quite yet, and the year round campers get a much needed break.

As much as you and Clarisse wanted to keep things private, when she punches someone in the middle of the pavilion for accidentally bumping into you, it’s not hard to figure out Clarisse cares for you more than she does anyone else.

And after one of your younger siblings, Cara, a 12-year-old notorious for staying up late, saw you and Clarisse kissing that first night- it spread like wildfire.

But it was the winter, so it still felt secret, until summer rolled around and Clarisse kept getting more and more annoyed by every camper who entered the gates. She would grab at you in the middle of meals, drag you into her bed, even kiss you in public- do all these things that seemed so out of character for her, but she was a different person when she was with you.

Everyone had been looking at you oddly all night, shocked, confused, even Clarisse has cracked a genuine smile at someone who dropped their drink- squeezing your hand.

Maybe they had all heard the rumors. Maybe they didn’t believe them.

But it’s all cleared up when Clarisse leads you to the best seat, the log not too far from the fire but not too close, wrapping her arms around you and kissing your temple.

Your cheeks heat up, only because Clarisse is never this touchy in public, and never around this many people before.

All of the eyes on you feel weird- they feel so judging.

And you’re not used to that, however vain it may be.

“Everyone’s staring at us,” you mumble, shuffling closer to Clarisse so your legs are pressed together.

She leans her head against your shoulder. “‘S okay. Don’t worry about ‘em, baby.”

You huff. “Did no one ever teach them it’s rude to stare, though? Like… c’mon.”

She sighs dramatically, lifting her head from your shoulder.

“Stop fuckin’ staring,” she says. Not quiet shouting, but her voice is loud and forceful. Her voice carries weight.

And eventually, at the risk of Clarisse’s wrath, all the wandering eyes stop.

A few of Clarisse’s siblings laugh from around you, commenting that the stares were getting a bit ridiculous, everyone just grateful that you all might get a little reprieve from the overwhelming stares and whispers.

But, you still feel uneasy. Clarisse kisses your shoulder.

And while you look around at the faces very pointedly not staring at you, there’s one person who still is. You roll your eyes, open your mouth to comment on it- but your mouth quickly snaps close at the sight of Alek.

—-

You don’t mention it to Clarisse. Maybe because breaking his heart haunts you, maybe what could have been haunts you.

You try not to think of Alek or that night, you try not to think of the entire age of 13. You always knew that Alek never quite let you go. He still sort of believed that the two of you would come back together- subscribing to some abstract belief soulmates.

You don’t think about Alek. Everything you do is because of her, because of Clarisse.

Sometimes, knowing you have secret admirers makes you feel all happy, but now that Clarisse sneaks you into her cabin every night- it makes you feel weird. You really don’t want anyone except for Clarisse, the idea of even being near someone else kinda disgusts you.

But, you choose to believe that maybe he was just shocked, and he’ll get over it in a few days.

You spend your days in the summer sun with Clarisse, holding her hand on walks through the strawberry fields, still using your archery lessons to spend time together, staring at each other from across the pavilion at meals, dreaming about a future together when it gets dark and you’re forced to whisper softly.

Alek is just always lurking. Is it coincidence? Is he stalking you? Every time you’re with Clarisse, trying to enjoy a nice date, he’s there- staring at you like a lovesick puppy.

And if it wasn’t because of her, you would probably be flattered. But you have Clarisse, you’ve moved on, you’re in love and happy.

It’s the late afternoon, you’re trying to enjoy a long moment with her, breathe in the sweet smell and just feel how happy you are, know it’s because of her.

The fields are still crowded with kids who pushed off their chores until the end of the day, so you and Clarisse stay on the outskirts. Not too far into the woods that’s filled with satyrs and nymphs who have grown very hostile towards any two campers who make their way into the woods. But not too close.

You don’t even register that other people are there. You’re going on about your annoying half-brother, she’s pretending to listen intently- but it’s just enough to be here with her, and at least she’s listening to the sound of your voice. At least that brings her some comfort, and that makes you feel good.

“And then, he said-” you trail off, feeling like something’s crawling all over you, practically being able to feel the anger in the air.

“Hm, what?” Clarisse asks, snapping out of her reverie at your silence.

Alek is glaring at you, of course. It just feels so juvenile. You had received letters from him for years- ones that he didn’t sign- but you knew. He said that the two of you had so much more to give together, that a second chance was all he needed to make you forget about the rite of passage, about pleasing your mother.

Clarisse squeezes your hand, leaning closer to you.

You used to like the feeling of getting those letters, of knowing you were loved and wanted. But now, with Clarisse, because of her- it feels wrong.

She follows your eye line and Alek quickly looks away, back down at the strawberries he’s supposed to be picking.

Clarisse’s hand tightens around yours.

“Who the hell is that?” she huffs.

You suck in a breath. “Alek.”

“Al-huh?”

You smile, despite how uneasy you feel.

“Alek, Clarisse. From my rite of passage?”

“Oh,” she nods, nose scrunching ever so slightly. “The one who left you those creepy letters? Has he left anymore?”

“No, no,” you say, risking one more glance at his back- just to assure yourself. Maybe you’re just making it all up. “Not since last summer. I mean, he was staring at us the night of the bonfire too, he’s always around on all our dates- it’s just creepy, at this point.”

“Sounds like the fucker has a death wish,” she drawls. “I’d be happy to help him with it.”

You bump her shoulder with yours. “Yeah, yeah Miss Violence.”

She smiles back, but she searches her eyes and you can tell she doesn’t like what she sees.

“Hey, c’mon. I’ll kill him if he pulls some shit again.”

“Clarisse.”

“Beat him up?”

“Clarisse.”

“Physically threaten him?”

“Clar-”

She smacks her hand over your mouth. “Shhh,” she smiles. “Don’t stress. I’ll take care of it.”

“Clarisse!” you shout, laughing, but her hand is still pressed tight over your moth.

“Oh, sorry, baby, I can’t hear you!”

“Bitch,” you hiss, and she frowns.

“Mean.”

—-

Clarisse, unfortunately, is true to her word.

Alek finally leaves you a note. It’s simple, unsigned, but obviously him. You recognize his chicken scratch scrawl.

All it says is:

I miss you, we could be something

She writes him a note back, a long one- first talking about all of her accomplishments as a daughter of Ares, then detailing all the ways she’ll make him regret thinking about you.

She tells you now, whispers in her bed, she laughs and your mouth hangs open.

“Clarisse!” you gasp, scolding her with a soft hit to her shoulder.

She rolls her eyes and moves closer to you.

“What else was I supposed to do? Ignore it? You don’t know me if you think I could just ignore some random dude flirting with my girlfriend. He’s a fuckin’ weirdo, and hopefully that note will teach him somethin’.”

“I mean. I doubt it will,” you mumble after a moment.

She smiles, your heart squeezes- because her smile is so beautiful- and because Clarisse never smiles like this. It’s bloodthirsty. It’s almost inhuman. It’s Godly.

“Then I’ll have to teach him in… other terms.”

—-

Dinner this evening is slow and relaxed. It’s Friday, so you’ve all made it to the end of the first official week of camp. Chiron let’s the rules fade away tonight, cabin tables have been abandoned and everyone sits where they want.

A few Hermes kids volunteered to start a fire, Mr D is busy trying to get the new kids to sneak him some alcohol- but he’s hard pressed to find ones who haven’t already been warned not to.

The energy in the air is infectious. The promise of a late wake up tomorrow, a fun night, the feeling of the moon and the fire, warmth on your skin- it’s a recipe for lowered inhibitions, for everything to come a little easier.

Clarisse sits next to you a table in the pavilion. You’re surrounded by Silena and Beckendorf, a few Hermes kids, a few Ares kids- a big mosh of random campers squeezed together at this one table- but it works, for whatever reason.

There’s nothing like laughing at someone’s shitty joke and feeling Clarisse laugh with you, pressed close to her so you can feel her chest rumble, feel her arm squeeze around you.

“He did what?!” Silena screeches, looking at you with wide eyes.

You laugh at her shock, at the audacity of Alek.

She sneaks a quick glance at Clarisse, who seems entirely engrossed in her siblings’ arm wresting tournament at the next table over.

“Yeah,” you sigh, feeling sort of complacent with it now. It’s not like anything will change. You’re here because of her, because of Clarisse. Everything you do is because of her.

Breathing, eating, sleeping. Basic human functions and the need to survive has only strengthened with the motivation of staying alive for her.

“Anyways,” you smile. “Clarisse left him back this big, long note. All about how she’s the strongest girl at camp,” you roll your eyes, but you’re smiling too big to be anything but joking. Besides, everyone knows she’s probably right. “And then threatened him a whole bunch. So, hopefully, he’ll just get his head out of his ass and then everything will be good again.”

You breathe out at the end of your small rant, and Silena smiles sympathetically.

“Hopefully,” she echoes.

But, because of Clarisse, because of her arms around you, you don’t feel anything but peace.

—-

Of course, life is not straightforward for demigods.

At the end of the day, you’re doomed to fall in your parents footsteps- except there is no immortality for you to fall back on. You’re vain and you’re proud, just like your parents, and you step too far, jump too high, and you’re as left dust on the floor.

Even though the same path had been left out for you to repeat, doomed footsteps to follow in, you step where they stepped and expect a different end.

The night is pitch black, besides for the brilliant stars and the bright, bright moon. It makes everything feel so private and secret. It makes Clarisse relax, makes her hold you closer but looser.

It feels good to feel her arm loose around you. She’s not afraid of you disappearing, because she knows of someone dragged you away you would rise up from the waves and straight back into her, into her arms.

The Apollo kids are playing music, voices hum along, the night is on fire with the crackles and the rising smoke, on fire with the peace, the content.

It feels like nothing can hurt you here.

But you’re a demigod, and life is not that easy.

The seat next to you is abandoned, and you barely even take notice as it’s quickly filled again- but you take notice of the eyes on you, of the body leaning forward to speak softly to you.

The fact that he’s here, the fact that he blatantly didn’t listen- you suppose you could have felt some sympathy for before, craving a life that wasn’t his anymore. Living off of memories made him too hungry.

Your mouth presses into a thin line as you recognize the voice in your ear.

“Y/N, I jus’ wanna talk.”

The rest of the table has fallen silent, and you realize everyone had almost immediately taken notice of his entrance- and you could tell by the way Clarisse’s body was tense against yours- he would regret ever coming over here.

“Clarisse,” you mumble, shifting closer to her.

She hooks her head over her shoulder, shifting completely so she’s straddling the bench, pressed up against your back.

Her tone is genuinely confused.

“Are you, like, okay in the head?”

The table, previously silent with fear, now bubbles with forced laughter.

“It’s not of your business,” Alek says, staring directly into your eyes. You feel like a deer caught in headlights, just completely shocked, too scared to move like it will all become real.

Clarisse puts her hand on your forehead and floats it down across your face, and your eyes voluntarily flutter shut.

“You’re not even worthy of being looked at by her,” and you can hear the smile on her voice. She confidence seeping from her pores- you can feel it all with the way she’s protectively wrapped around you.

“Y/N,” he says again, ignoring her through gritted teeth. “I just want to talk.”

“If you say one more fuckin’ word to my girlfriend I’m gonna kill you.”

There’s no smile on her voice, no edge of a joke. Not even angry. She’s deathly calm. She’s focused, like a 20 pound weight sinking to the bottom of the sea. She cuts through whatever she has to and everything else knows to avoid her.

You don’t know why the hell Alek just can’t let the 13 year old version of you go, why he’s looking something where there’s nothing, and you’re just so done with all of this.

You open your eyes, sitting up, letting Clarisse’s arms fall around you in confusion.

“Alek,” you start, softly. “We dated for a month when we were 13. That’s all it was, that’s all it’s ever gonna be. It’s over, okay?”

“Exactly,” he breathes. “A month when we were 13- and we were that good together? We could do so much more now, I wanna show you.”

“Okay, I’m done,” you mumble, standing up.

And without you in between, Alek finally gets a good look at the daughter of war. She’s pure, streamlined muscle. Every inch of her body has been meticulously trained to kill monsters- Alek knows that killing him would be easy.

Clarisse cracks her knuckles and you almost laugh at how cinematic it is.

—-

You hum as you run the alcohol pad over her split knuckles. Clarisse likes to leave the scars like this, the small ones, let them heal on her own. Even though she winces at the feeling, you know she’ll be walking around, proudly showing off her scabs until they finally fade away. She’ll cross her fingers and hope they scar, probably.

Clarisse watches you with admiration, admiring your movements, your voice, even though you’re really not doing anything special. But, to her, everything you do is special.

“Did you see how bad his face was?” she asks, trying to remain calm, but eagerness slips into her voice.

“I did,” you laugh. “It was real bad, baby. Good job.”

She huffs, as if it’s common knowledge.

“I always do a good job, just matters what level of good I’m on. I think this was one of my best works though, huh?”

She admires her split knuckles and you roll your eyes, finally starting to put some bandaids on the clean wounds.

“You’re crazy,” you mutter.

She shrugs. “You’re the one who let me. You’re the one who loves me.”

“Yeah,” you mumble after a moment, not really wanting to lie to her, tease her right now. She smiles soft and sweet, placing her fingertips against your jawline and leaning forward.

“Did you like watching me?” she breathes, her low voice hitting you right in the stomach, breath against your lips.

You circle her biceps with your hands and run them up and down the tense muscle.

“You know I did.”

“Three months no dessert,” she smiles.

“Three months of sharing with you,” you laugh. She smiles wider before finally, mercifully, putting her lips on yours.

Everything you do is because of Clarisse. It feels so good to be close to her like this- practically in her lap- fo feel how strong she is, to know what she did for you today.

It feels so good to know she loves you.

When you pull away, trying to chase her, she dodges you and kisses your jawline, your neck, and you throw your head back and release the most unladylike sounds as she leaves hickies on your neck, seemingly determined to make them as dark as possible, as easy to see. And a lot of them.

“Jealous?” you say, biting your lip to keep in a moan.

“Just want everyone to know you’re my girl. Want everyone to know who makes you feel good, feel loved, huh?”

You stomach twists and your mind goes blank.

“Huh?” she repeats, sticking her face in your neck to breathe in and out, catching her breath. “Why you feelin’ like this, baby?”

“Because of you,” you breathe. “Because of you, Clarisse.”

—-

y/n walking around the next day looking like she got attacked by a vampire

silena trying to be happy for y’all but also concerned for your health

clarisse just being proud as hell

—-

this was small so idk if y’all picked it up but clarisse was jealous before alek even came along- jealous that there were more campers coming! like? she just doesn’t like unworthy losers looking at her girl 🙄

—-

possessive!clarisse i love you so much baby

—-

taglist:

@lvrue @t-wylia @laughingcheese037 @kroumi @urdeadpoet @colezb @rey26 @harmzilla @elliewilliamsbae @amberfreemansburntface @kyuupidwrites @neverwaakeme-up @shark1008 @liballer @heyimadison @nvirskies @pnsteblnme @mar2ss @restellsss @ravisinghs-wife @marsconer @evangelinexo @randomhoex @luvrrish @rebecca37 @saltair-and-palemoonlight @ace-spades-1

[reaper2187]

Kathryn Hahn x female reader

Scene opens with Kathryn Hahn and Y/N sitting side by side in front of a camera for Wired’s Autocomplete Interview. The two are on a press tour for their latest movie together, a dark comedy-thriller with a supernatural twist. Kathryn, with her warm smile and energetic demeanor, contrasts with Y/N’s more stoic, but subtly charming presence. Y/N is 23, tall, and has a masculine-presenting style—she’s often dressed in darker clothes, favoring leather jackets and combat boots, a stark contrast to Kathryn's colorful, quirky outfits.

They both look at the famous whiteboard with Google search questions taped onto it, ready to answer fans' most searched questions.

Kathryn: (grinning at the camera) Hello, Wired! We are here for the Autocomplete Interview! I’m Kathryn Hahn, and this is the incredible Y/N, my co-star, who you probably know from her chilling horror roles or as Knightmare in the Marvel universe.

Y/N: (smiling slightly, a subtle quirk of her lips) Hey.

Kathryn: (playfully nudging Y/N) She’s super talkative, as you can tell. laughs But, seriously, she’s brilliant, so let’s see what people are curious about!

Kathryn peels off the first question.

Kathryn: Alright, first one! reads “Is Kathryn Hahn…”

Y/N: (leaning over to read too, curious) Ooh, let’s see what they wanna know about you.

Kathryn: laughs I’m nervous! “Is Kathryn Hahn…related to Adam Sandler?” Oh, wow. laughs

Y/N: snorts softly What?

Kathryn: Yeah, no. I’ve been in a movie with him, sure. But related? No. That would be an interesting family dynamic, though, wouldn’t it?

Y/N: nodding with mock seriousness Yeah, you guys could have, like, a whole comedic dynasty thing going on.

Kathryn: laughs Right? Imagine family dinners—just bits, all the time. But nope, not related. Alright, next! tears off another strip

“Is Kathryn Hahn…a witch?” laughs loudly Okay, okay, I see where this is coming from.

Y/N: grinning now Agatha Harkness. People loved you in that.

Kathryn: dramatic voice The power of Agatha compels them! laughs But no, I’m not actually a witch in real life. I just play one on TV, and apparently, I’m convincing.

Y/N: smirking Too convincing, maybe.

Kathryn: You know, with all the witchy roles, I might start believing it myself. Alright, next! Y/N, your turn!

Kathryn hands Y/N the board, and Y/N tears off the next strip of questions.

Y/N: reads “Is Y/N…”

Kathryn: leaning in with curiosity Ooooh, I like this.

Y/N: deadpan “Is Y/N a serial killer?”

Kathryn: bursts out laughing Oh my God, of course that’s the first thing people want to know!

Y/N: shrugs with a smirk Can’t really blame them. I’ve, uh, killed a lot of people. Kathryn giggles at that On screen.

Kathryn: Yeah, let’s make that clear! She’s a total sweetheart off-screen, I swear.

Y/N: quirking an eyebrow Thanks. But no, not a serial killer. Just play one in horror movies. turning to the camera with a mock serious tone Don’t worry.

Kathryn: teasing I mean, she is very convincing, though. Sometimes I wonder. laughs You’ve got this whole intense thing going on in your roles. How do you flip the switch between being the killer and just, you know, hanging out?

Y/N: considering for a second Honestly, I just look at it like a job. I step into the character’s head, and then once the scene’s done, I step out. It’s like leaving the mask behind.

Kathryn: nodding That’s cool. And also, the intensity you bring to those characters? Terrifying. You know how many nightmares you’ve given people?

Y/N: smirking Knightmares, you mean?

Kathryn: laughs Yes! Marvel’s very own Knightmare, everyone! Speaking of which… Kathryn rips off the next strip “Is Y/N in Marvel?”

Y/N: nodding slightly Yeah. I play Knightmare. She’s the daughter of the Seven Deadly Sins.

Kathryn: Which is so badass.

Y/N: chuckling softly Yeah, she’s… complicated. A lot of darkness in her, but she’s also figuring out her place in the world. Kind of like me, except I don’t have demon parents.

Kathryn: laughing That we know of!

Y/N: dryly True.

Kathryn: Knightmare is such a cool character, though. Dark, complex, a little terrifying. Very much your brand.

Y/N: nods Yeah, I like playing her. She’s got layers.

Kathryn: You’re amazing in that role. Every time you come on screen, people are like, "Oh no, things are about to get real."

Y/N: smiling a little more now Thanks. It’s fun getting to show up in the Marvel universe and just… bring that intensity. But also not just be, you know, the villain. She’s more than that.

Kathryn: seriously Absolutely. There’s so much more going on with her. I love that Marvel’s giving you that space to explore it.

Y/N nods, visibly comfortable in the conversation, though still measured in her responses. Kathryn peels off the next question.

Kathryn: reads “Can Kathryn Hahn…” pauses “…sing?”

Y/N: grins Can you?

Kathryn: laughs Yes! I mean, I can carry a tune. I did some singing in Central Park and WandaVision, and I love it. But I wouldn’t call myself a full-on singer. You wouldn’t see me in, like, a rock band or anything.

Y/N: teasing I don’t know, I think you could pull it off.

Kathryn: playfully Oh, please. With you on guitar? We could start a band! What would our band name be?

Y/N: deadpan Agatha and the Knightmares.

Kathryn: laughing hysterically YES! That’s it. You’ve just named our band. We’ll tour next year.

Y/N: smiling, slightly amused I’m in.

Kathryn: still chuckling Alright, let’s see what’s next. tears off another strip “Can Y/N…fight?”

Y/N: smirking I hope so.

Kathryn: mocking awe You are so intense. But seriously, you do all your own fight scenes, right?

Y/N: Yeah, mostly. I train a lot for them. It’s important to me that the physicality feels real, especially in the horror stuff and as Knightmare.

Kathryn: nodding You’re amazing at it. I mean, I’ve seen you fight on set. You’re no joke.

Y/N: modestly Thanks. It’s all choreography, but yeah, I like it. It’s like a dance in a way.

Kathryn: smiling A deadly dance, but yeah, I see it. You’ve got that precision.

Y/N: shrugs Gotta keep the audience on the edge of their seats.

Kathryn: You definitely do. Every time you fight, it’s like, “Oh no, someone’s about to die.” But you also bring this emotion to it, like it’s not just about the violence.

Y/N: nodding Exactly. It’s more than the fighting. There’s always something driving it—whether it’s survival, vengeance, fear, whatever. That’s what makes it interesting.

Kathryn: impressed See? This is why you’re so good at what you do. You put so much thought into it.

They share a smile, and Kathryn reaches for the next question.

Kathryn: reads “Does Kathryn Hahn…”

Y/N: mock suspense Drumroll.

Kathryn: laughs “…have tattoos?”

Y/N: looking at Kathryn, curious Do you?

Kathryn: laughing No, I don’t! I know, shocker, right? I’m like, the most tattoo-less person ever. But I do think about it sometimes. What about you?

Y/N: shrugs A few. Nothing crazy, though.

Kathryn: intrigued Really? Where?

Y/N: teasingly You’ll have to guess.

Kathryn: laughing Ooh, mysterious. Okay, okay

. I’m not gonna push you for details, but I’m now very curious.

Y/N: smirking Good.

Kathryn: shaking her head, smiling Alright, next! “Does Y/N like horror movies?”

Y/N: nods slightly Yeah, I do. It’s weird because I’m in them so much, but I love the tension, the atmosphere. It’s not just about the scares for me. It’s about what horror can say about fear, about people.

Kathryn: thoughtful That makes sense. You don’t just act in them—you kinda live and breathe them. What’s your favorite?

Y/N: pausing to think I’d probably say The Shining. It’s a classic, but it’s more psychological than just jump scares. There’s this creeping dread that sticks with you.

Kathryn: nodding Yeah, that movie is so unsettling. I can totally see why you’d love that. You bring that same kind of dread to your roles.

Y/N: shrugging modestly Thanks.

Kathryn: teasing And yet here you are, the nicest person in real life. It’s wild.

Y/N: smiling slightly Gotta keep people guessing.

Kathryn: laughing You’re good at that.

They both share a relaxed look before Kathryn grabs the final question.

Kathryn: Last one! “Does Y/N have a Marvel future?”

Y/N: glancing at the camera with a slight grin That’s… classified.

Kathryn: laughs Classic Marvel answer! But seriously, people are excited to see more of Knightmare. And I think they should be. You’re fantastic in that role.

Y/N: nodding We’ll see. There’s a lot of potential for where Knightmare can go. I’m just along for the ride.

Kathryn: excited And we can’t wait to see it!

They both look at the camera as Kathryn wraps up.

Kathryn: Alright, that’s it for our Wired Autocomplete Interview! Thanks for hanging out with us and for all the weird, funny, and insightful questions!

Y/N: nodding Yeah, thanks.

Kathryn: grinning And don’t forget to check out our new movie—it’s a wild ride!

Y/N: smirking It’s killer.

Kathryn: laughing Of course you’d say that!

The camera fades out with the two of them laughing together, a perfect blend of Kathryn’s infectious energy and Y/N’s cool, subtle charm.

I tried a bit of a different style with this one, hope that's ok also I did another oneshot since I was away for sometime, I started University like 2 week ago and I'm still getting used to the timetable and that shit

[vaguely-concerned]

Eight Little Talons Reread Thoughts

Which, I’ll level with you folks, is mostly just me gushing about Teia and Viago and how much they should kiss because of who I am as a person, but maybe also some actual observations sprinkled in. This is still my favourite story in Tevinter Nights, I think, there’s so much Character Stuff in it. Let’s go!

Viago hated carriages—no amount of plush seating could make up for the inevitable ache of being knocked around like weighted dice. But decorum insisted, and he would not be outclassed by his fellow Talons.

Vs.

“You didn’t take a carriage.” 

“My luggage did. But I couldn’t resist the opportunity for a country jaunt.” She nodded toward the thoroughbred Taslin strider grazing on the top of the hill. “Andoral so rarely gets a chance to let loose in Rialto.” 

“You named your horse after an archdemon?” 

“Don’t worry, Vi. I won’t let him nip you.

You know… Andarateia might gain some illusion of normalcy by standing next to the most paranoid wound-up-tight repressed man around to provide contrast, but I think it’s crucial we keep in mind that she is also nuts. Naming your horse after an archdemon IS an insane thing to do in the world of Thedas huh. I suppose she genuinely seems to think of Caterina Dellamorte as a warm maternal figure and is in love with a tetchy snake of a guy too, it does all start to add up when you look at it like that.

— Beneath the smooth samite, he felt like a sinewy ball of tension. Teia suspected contact of any kind made Viago uncomfortable. It would explain why he swathed himself in indigo from chin to toe and refused to remove his gloves during dinner.

He offers his arm to her and doesn’t pull away when they meet Caterina — only when Dante shows up. Interesting (and possibly part of why Caterina seems to consider the two of them a cleverly stabilizing package deal when they get along lol). I love the mix of playful seduction and genuine fond, intimate knowledge and interest Teia has for him all the way through too — speculating about his childhood, trying to divine his thoughts and intentions, testing to see how he reacts to different things. And it’s so sweet that she seems to regard him with this affectionate amusement and fascination (which he seems to be afraid means that she’s mocking him but is, I think, just another level of appreciation she has for him. Correctly. Because he’s one of the funniest people in Thedas both in concept and in practice. Accountant brained-ass noodle arm Vetinari homage poison specialist. Teia’s neurotic purse dog of a man. Sole royal bastard who willingly chose to have a boring Antivan day job (killing people) and makes spreadsheets about it.) 

— “Not exactly welcoming, are they?” Teia whispered, her breath warm against his ear. 

Viago’s grip tightened on the head of his walking stick.

I swear to god courtney woods is so fucking good at writing romantic and sexual tension. One sentence!!! She drops in a one-sentence detail and it says everything!!!! She has such a knack for consistently adding these details without getting overindulgent or spelling it out too much that I really admire, I tend a bit more towards indulging too much as a writer that way myself so her sense of where to show restraint has me in awe 

— “Don’t ‘Nonna’ me, Andarateia Cantori,” Caterina snapped, although the heat in her voice had lowered to a simmer. “Not even my actual grandchildren call me that.” 

“Well, considering who your grandchildren are,” Teia responded, “I’m not surprised.” 

“How is Master Lucanis?” Viago asked.

Hell yeah Lucanis mention! Can’t wait to see how their dynamics will turn out in-game, we could be in for some truly spectacular and absurd workplace comedy nonsense if we’re lucky

— As always, Viago had with him his leather case of poisons and antidotes for toxins typically hidden in ingredients such as olives, truffles, pasta, lamb, cheese, cream, and alcohol. But he had not expected eggplant.

This is one of the funniest things I’ve ever read, I love Viago so much he’s such a perfect weirdo. Reader, he had not expected eggplant. 

— Taking a deep breath, Viago focused on tying his cravat—an ordinarily simple task except now Teia was running her hands across every surface in his room, and his fingers kept slipping on the final knot. “It would help if you removed the gloves,” Teia remarked. “Surely your own cravats haven’t been tampered with.”

Viago being just… seethingly horrifically despairingly horny every time Teia shows up is so amazing, and Teia clearly paying A Lot of attention to his hands and his reactions at all times… again, courtney woods s tier sexual tension provider. 

— “No,” she said, crossing her arms. “Not until we boil some water.” 

Viago raised a brow. “Eight people were poisoned in this room.” 

“Then run your little tests to make sure it’s safe, but I refuse to look at another dead body until I’ve had my coffee.”

I must take care to repeat: teia is also fucking nuts (affectionate). It’s SO FUNNY that her slightly lighter and softer moral take on being a Crow means she does feel bad about the servants ending up in the crossfire, but she will also demand that viago make her coffee with their horrifically bloated corpses still strewn about the room fhdsjka. 

— Teia had often imagined what it would be like to kiss Viago. She told herself it was only natural. He was handsome, in his own way, and wound up so tight that she likened him to a giant knot. He was a challenge to untie—to twist and pull and loosen until the tension gave way and he unraveled, laying bare all his secrets. But knots were a delicate business. Tug the wrong way and you could end up with a noose.

I know I KNOW they have sex so weird and intimate and no one even takes their clothes off during it I know it in my heart

— “Do you not think you’re attractive?” Viago turned on her, his ears pink. “Ten people are dead.” 

She didn’t back down. “And whoever’s responsible will pay, but that has no bearing on this conversation.” 

“It could be me.” 

Covering her mouth with both hands, Teia doubled over, laughter spilling from her lips. “It’s not you.” 

He looked as if she’d slapped him. “I’m more than capable of killing everyone here.” 

“Don’t tell me you’re offended!” 

“It is offensive,” Viago protested. “Professionally.”

Teia please tell me you love me not only for my body and fashion sense and numerous and fascinating neuroses but also my extensive knowledge of poisons and capacity to cause death

— Again, Viago felt like a lute string. With every challenge, Teia twisted the pegs, tuning him, until she found what she wanted. Which is what, exactly? he asked himself, not daring to listen to the number of answers that bubbled to the surface of his mind.

You know Viago I think we should let her try some scales here at least. See what happens. (There’s no explicit sex in this story but everything that’s going on is nevertheless so kinky fdsjak. I think Teia could convince Viago to show a flash of his naked wrist and have a reaction like a sheltered young Victorian gentleman seeing an exposed ankle and a playful wink for the first time)

— As if she could feel the sudden rush of shame within him, Teia brought her hands up to rest on Viago’s hips, holding him in place. His thumb stilled as he realized her breath was short. Her pupils dilated. Before he could stop himself, Viago nuzzled his forehead against hers, his nose brushing her cheek. Teia’s hands snaked up his chest to run through his hair. She tugged him forward. He braced himself on one arm, while the other curled around the small of her back. 

This whole scene is unspeakably good of course but it’s always the detail of ‘his nose brushing her cheek’ that does me in the most. The longing!!! The yearning, the intimacy, the awkward perfect clumsy physical reality of it!!!! If he kissed her here the magical potion thing on her lips would have been immaterial, the results would have been the same without it!!!!!! The tug of war between longing and fear!

— oblique Zevran mention! <3 as the ultimate failson of house arainai, granted, but as I believe he might argue here: ‘ah, but you have heard of me, no? :>’. Babe I support you so much go out there and raise hell/kill whoever you want to I got your flower

— Big shoutout to the author for managing to pull off an entirely workable ‘And Then There Were None’ plot in the background here, even though the real meat and potatoes going on is the character and relationship development (and what meat and potatoes they are too)! It’s not an easy thing to do even in an abbreviated, more of a homage sort of form and balancing it with everything else going on is a feat

— Caterina 100% knows Teia is in Viago’s room when he’s supposed to be isolated and just doesn’t care lmao. (They act like such teenagers in that scene where she knocks on the door and they haven’t even kissed yet I’m dying). Caterina seems like a terrible person but it’s impossible to not feel for her a little, trying to keep Talons in line seems a lot like herding (very horny very carrying sharp objects) cats 

— Standing outside her ex-lover’s room, Teia tried to quell the violent drumming within her. Normally, she didn’t need to come down from a physical encounter. Seduction—like any form of manipulation—was about control. She could enjoy herself, but Teia always made sure to hold the upper hand. Viago had shattered that control without so much as a kiss.

I feel like this is a sneaky common trait that actually is part of what makes them so compatible (and the playful negotiation of which must feature prominently in their sex life eventually lmao): they are both HUGE control freaks. (Indeed it might be hard to be a successful Talon without this trait.) Teia and Viago both strive for control of themselves and their surroundings so deeply, she’s just much more extroverted, psychologically minded and soft power focused going about it (not unlike Caterina, whose power is built more on fear than charm but works along the same lines), while he’s more coldly intellectual and uh materialist? I want to call it? about it. Which makes perfect sense considering their backstories! Teia came from nothing in a monetary sense but has found she excels at moving people, hearts and minds style — and she’s very good at it, she is everyone’s favorite — so that’s the source of power for her, and Viago is not very charismatic or interested in people naturally but grew up seeing how status, wealth and power have their own clinical gravity that can be used, and also that people can never be trusted to watch out for you in that system.  

If Thedas has a Machiavelli-equivalent to ask whether it’s better for a ruler to be feared or loved they would both instantly give their answer with their whole chest and then squint at each other like ‘babe how do you live like this’ lol

(Also this line of thought has me wondering what the hell Caterina’s partner/spouse(s) would have been like — she must have at least two children to account for Illario and Lucanis, I wonder if she was ever married and what that looked like.)

— I really like the oppressiveness and claustrophobia you get from the descriptions Teia uses in Dante’s room — it feels so icky and sticky with history and sad and confining, and the way she keeps pushing herself through it anyway is weirdly melancholy to me. 

— I also like how their flaws/traits that drive them apart at the crisis point have follow-up consequences outside of their relationship before they reconcile. Teia’s penchant for manipulation and pushing on people indirectly causes the death of someone she once cared about (I mean, fuck that guy, not crying any tears for Dante or his broken bottle, but like in the overarching principle of the thing lol). When she goes too far with it or gets careless, she renders other people vulnerable and helpless in ways she doesn’t anticipate. (Rightfully or not this seems to be part of what scares Viago so much about it, he has this fear of being dissected for whatever she finds interesting and then abandoned when she’s tired of it, the whole underlying being a footnote in her life when she could clearly be something uh a lot more in his anxiety.) Meanwhile Viago’s insistence on self-reliance and reluctance to engage in human contact leaves him easily isolated and nearly results in his death. (And even when Teia saves him he has a hard time giving her full credit in favour of his many neurotic coping mechanisms lmao disaster man.) But when the two of them work it out to understand each other better and come together as a partnership, they’re such a force to be reckoned with that it brute forces the resolution and return to stability near the end. (Well. A significantly reduced version of stability to be fair but y’know better late than never.)

— Also: delicious detail that she is actually the closest you might get to a self-made woman/Talon, and he is definitely at least not in a position to fully dodge the nepo baby allegations — he wants so bitterly to be entirely independent and self-sufficient and not reliant on anyone, and yet it’s his connections inherent to his birth that have helped him get here, while she wants so desperately to have people to rely on because she comes from nothing and has known what it is to be that alone and unprotected. He knows protection and gifts — and love — can easily be taken away and used to control you/render you helpless in your vulnerability from how his father treated his mother, and she knows you have to try to hold on to something in other people or it’s just you and the dirt and you die. Which is what they’re really talking about in that scene where they argue, and it’s why they’re both right and wrong at the same time and it’s so tasty. It’s really Teia asking ‘Will you ever trust anyone? (will you ever trust me, or will you put up this wall every time no matter what I say or do?)’ and Viago going ‘Will you never take precautions to protect yourself against this hurt? (will I have to be the bearer of bad news about how the world really is every time?)’ and neither of them realize that’s what they’re taling about and it’s why it all explodes so badly. (I mean. Factually both came to the wrong conclusion about who the murderer was for fairly good reasons, so there’s also that haha.) 

— I wonder if we’ll see Bolivar or the heirs to the houses left Talon-less in the game itself. I’m guessing they probably won’t have big roles, at least, but you know just as background flavour, especially since Crow!Rook is already within the de Riva uh household as it were. I think Viago is still sensibly mid-table at Fifth Talon in Veilguard and Teia remains Seventh? So at least they’re not messing around with that rank order during the occupation 

— In semi-not teia and viago news (I am a character first writer and reader I canot change this), it’s neat to see it outlined just how much the Talons really are just merchant princes with some more added knives and cultural weight behind them. They are at the end of the day running businesses, no matter the mystique ™ you wrap it in. (Which I think Viago would be the first to tell you and Teia might try to argue against at least a little haha. Being a Talon is what you make of it you live your truth girl kill awful men you’ll never run out of contracts!!)

— Can’t believe the Crows have self-congratulatory ‘top 10 murders in history!’ classes as part of the training. Do you think Zev sat through those. Probably, if Teia did, right. Now there were some entertaining hours around the campfire during the Blight I’m sure

— Viago understanding but not accepting Teia’s offer to help him with an alibi and at first angling it as being out of hesitancy to accept help/rely on someone, and then later unveiling the added element that he knows Teia respects and loves Caterina and doesn’t want her to have to lie to her for him… Viago is nothing so simple as secretly nice deep down but he IS horrifically in love with and desperate to be kind to specifically Teia and it gets to me okay  

— I’d forgotten that DA’s passionate love affair with toxic yuri and some recreational bury your gays extended to Guili and Lera in this fdskjah. Would it really be Thedas without it I suppose (considering the genre of the short story it’s fine with me in this case, though, everyone’s dropping like flies in this even the straight people that’s just equality) 

— Viago was not a typical Antivan. He liked facts—checklists, numbers, precise measurements. Heart palpitations, clammy hands, tight pants—Viago did not like these things. In fact, he would go so far as to say he hated them. Mild curiosity was his favorite mood. What Teia had elicited in him was akin to an internal natural disaster.

I simply love him so so much. Mild curiosity was his favorite mood. He failed to account for the eggplant. He’s so annoyed at being poisoned and dying horribly and it literally never occurs to him that anyone would help him until he wakes up in Teia’s lap. He organizes all his poisons by puns. He uses his potentially last breath to argue with Teia about his precise state of dress or undress. Have we finally found him, the perfect man? 

(Also between Reyes and Viago Courtney Woods does such a good line in guys who’d really rather be emotionless machines of practical violence and monetary gain but find themselves down so horrifically catastrophically bad that it cracks them open to reveal a soul they aren’t all that happy to discover they have lol) 

— When Viago woke, it felt like someone had drained the blood from his body and replaced it with sludge. But it wasn’t all bad—someone who smelled like coffee and cinnamon was playing with his hair. . . . Her fingers resumed stroking his hair. It felt better than the water. It felt better than anything.

Unspeakable. Don’t look at me. 

— Viago reaching out and touching Teia’s cheek with his bare hands without a thought and all his tenderness and reverence for her laid bare in turn is something that can actually be so personal and it only took very nearly dying to get there (also… he’s presumably still half-naked through all of this while cradled in her lap. Amazing.). Can’t believe bare hands to cheek feels like third base with these two. And his fucking THOUGHTS through all of this… Don’t cry, he doesn’t deserve your tears, no one does (I don’t, I don’t want to be something that causes you pain) AOUGH

— Vaguely related: the implication in how that part is built is that he’s reaching out specifically to gently dry away her tears, right. Double AOUGHHHHHH not only does he manage to not be selfish or unfair in asking her not to cry he does that instead… there’s hope for you yet messere de riva  

— Teia with the red-hot poker standing guard over Viago while he ‘looks like a king in judgement’ and does the Poirot in the library exposition is everything and so hot what the fuck. She a snacc she attacc but most importantly… she protecc, she’s so fucking cool lol. they’re both really smart, but she’s clearly the brawn as well as the social skills (hey manipulation is such an ugly word!) and he’s the logistics and realpolitik on two long thin nerdy legs, absolute power couple. She’s the gaslight he’s the girlboss together may they gatekeep this invading army out of antiva  

— You guys… this might come as a surprise I have tried to keep it on the down low but. I really do love the world of Thedas so very much. I love the people and the places and the history and the stupidness and the brilliance so much. We must save the world because everyone I love lives here. Let this be a secret between just you and me we can’t let people know we sit/have emotions etc.  

— A servant approached to take the cage in Viago’s hand. 

“Careful,” Viago warned. “He bites.” 

“I can’t believe you’re keeping that snake,” Teia said, shaking her head. “It almost killed you.” 

“Which is more than any man can say. He deserves my respect. And a good home—with all the mice he can eat.” 

“But did you have to name it Emil?” Teia asked, making a face. 

“An homage. You’re always telling me to recognize my fellow Talons.”

Andarateia ‘names her horse after an archdemon’ Cantori x Viago ‘keeps the deadly adder that nearly killed him as a pet and names it after the last guy who failed to murder him’ de Riva. Freak well and truly matched. Soulmates, no notes, I’ll do borderline anything for these two to make it, goodnight. 

[starogeorgina]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐢𝐧

Warnings: Smut, swearing, mentions of blood, incest

Pairing: Cregan Stark × reader, Aemond Targaryen × reader

1.04

“Many in my line have been dragon riders; very few among us have been dreamers like Aegon the Conqueror.”

The sound of snow being crushed under Lord Stark’s boots is much heavier; he has remained mainly silently as you walked towards the godswoods. Your grandsire had told men from the north they were not ones for long conversation, but then again, Otto Hightower has been wrong about many things.

“He saw them, the threat in the north, in his dream.”

Lord Stark slows his steps, “How do you know this to be true?”

“Aegon's conquest was not an act of pure ambition. The conquerors goal was to unite all the kingdoms so they might survive the long night. How much faith do you have in prophecy’s my lord?”

“Since the days of the First Men, we have stood as guardians against the cold and the dark. I know what danger lies beyond the wall.”

The closer Vermithor got to Castle Black, the more could the emptiness, that vast darkness surrounding it. The wind screamed in your ears, telling you to go back, to flee, but you could not retreat. Not when you needed to see the darkness. A cold sweat trickles down your back, and you suddenly feel overwhelmed, you away on your feet.

Lord Stark grabs your arm with his gloved hands to keep you steady. “Princess, are you okay? Should you return indoors?”

“I’m fine, my lord; I’m just—not used to the cold.”

He looks unconvinced, but let’s go of your arm. His first name was lingering on the tip of your tongue, but as there were others around, although at a distance, you thought it best to remain formal.

“They are inhuman, elegant, dangerous, and beautiful. The white shadow’s blood is pale blue; they are tall and gaunt. Their eyes burning like ice. Flesh pale as fresh milk.”

You stand on the edge of the pond across from the Weirwood and feel a coldness creeping on the back of your neck, but it disappears when you feel the warmth of Cregan’s breath. “Is the white shadow what they are known as in the south?”

“No, only myself and my sisters know of the threat.” Both you and Helaena had learnt of the prophecy through visions, and your father had told Rhaenyra. “The threat will go by many names: the others, white walkers, white shadows. Some will even refer to them as the cold gods.”

“You have fire in your words, princess, but a prophecy alone cannot be the only reason you came to Winterfell. And it wasn’t to sway which side the North would fight for.”

“There has never lived a Stark that broke their oath; it would have been foolish of me to even ask,” you smile. “The dragons are the last magic of Old Valyria, and they are scared. I believe the looming war between my family will be the last of them; the magic will die out, and then death from beyond the wall will spread and consume all of Westeros.”

“You believe the Targaryens will fight along with the night's watch when the time comes.”

“There is no doubt the north produces the fiercest fighters, my Lord, but a man cannot kill the dead alone. The white shadow fears what can destroy it.”

He swallows thickly, “fire.”

“My father owned a Valyrian steel blade with the words, ‘My blood come the Prince that was promised, and his will be the song of ice and fire.’ The dagger now belongs to my brother, but it should have gone to Rhaenyra. The prince that was promised will come from her line.”

You remove your gloves and place your palm firmly against the bark of the Weirwood tree, feeling the cold against your skin. Closing your eyes, you hear Helaena’s voice in the distance, but it’s not you she's speaking directly to.

“There is warmth beneath all that ice.”

“Ah!”

Opening your eyes, you look down and notice blood falling onto the snow; something had sliced through his thick leather gloves and cut his hand. “What happened?” You apply pressure to the cut with your own hand. “Shall I get a maester?”

Before he can answer, the sound of wings flapping alerts you to a dragon flying nearby. Vermithor and Silverwing fly lower than not casting a shadow over where you stand. Cregan takes a step closer to you and tilts his head down; he kisses you tenderly on the lips.

Seconds pass by, and he’s standing in front of you again, the cut on his hand staining the snow below crimson.

Was the kiss real or a figment of your imagination?

“No, maester. It’s only a small cut.”

You had only known the Lord of Winterfell a few days, but seeing the way his face twists in discomfort makes you want to help. You clear your throat, “then let me clean the cut for you.”

—

The room was silent as you dabbed at the raised skin around the cut on Cregan’s palm with lukewarm water. The wound has stopped bleeding, but you wanted to make sure it was clean. What would your grandsire or mother say learning a princess was attending to Lord Stark in such a way? No doubt the dowager queen would pull a face of disgust, and your grandsire Otto would put a political spin on it. Try to paint you as the image of the mother.

“I thought the cut would have been bigger,” you say quietly.

“Aye, it is small but deep.” He holds up the fang that he picked up in front of the Weirwood tree. “The wolf this came from is larger than my son’s but not yet fully grown. Even as a pup, a wolf's fangs can rip the flesh from a man’s throat.”

“The day will come when they say a Stark will ride into battle on the back of a giant direwolf.”

You look up from the bowl with water and into his eyes, “Thank you.”

“You have a much gentler touch than the maester. I assumed most princesses would swoon at the sight of blood.”

“My brothers used to fight when we were younger, and I would tend to their wounds before our mother would see.” You chuckle, “In his youth, my eldest brother would stub his toe, but would have you believe his entire foot was about to fall off.”

“Not long after Rickon learnt to walk, he went through a phase of screaming seven hells whenever he fell or bumped his head against something, but I soon realized he did it because any lady who saw would rush to coddle him as they do their own children.”

Your heart bleeds for Rickon; no young boy or girl should grow up without a caring mother. You had seen firsthand how Aegon and Aemond turned out spoiled and entitled, with your mother's bitterness rooted deep within them, as did you. Until having a child of your own changed you for the better. “I’ve seen Maitland fall and skin his knees while playing in the gardens of our home countless times; mostly he’ll get up without a fuss, but whenever his father is there, he cries and screams. He only stops when Aemond picks him."

The thought saddens you. Aemond would pick your son up and immediately place him in your arms, because to him it was a woman’s job to deal with whatever woes a child may have.

“Growing up, I was taught that a mother's love was the fiercest of all.”

Your heart flutters. You didn’t like the way Cregan was unintentionally making you feel so... safe. You drop the cloth into the water, which is now tinted red, and go stand by the fireplace.

“Is something wrong, princess?”

Pressing a hand on the wall above the fireplace, you stare down at the flames and shake your head. It was wrong; a man you barely knew should not make you feel more at ease than your own husband.

The chair he was sitting in makes a scraping noise as Cregan stands. “Have I offended you, princess?”

“No, forgive me. I’m just—in my own head.” You turn your head to look at him and are surprised to see the look of concern on his face. “As you said before, a prophecy isn’t the only reason I came here. I wanted to know what it was like to be free.”

“Free?”

“My mother told me women cannot rule, only guide the men that do, which led me to believe I was to make a window in the wall of my own prison. I’ve spent my life so far in the service to men, my father, grandsire, husband, and now Aegon.”

“What is it you desire?”

“To take my son and go somewhere where the name Targaryen means nothing, where the people aren’t scared of our dragons.”

The Lord now stands only a foot in front of you, “princess.”

“Hm?”

“Northerns aren’t scared of dragons.”

No more words needed to be said. Cregan takes a step forward and touches your chin with his rough fingers and gently tilts your face upwards so his lips are mere inches from yours.

You opened your mouth to say something, but no noise came out. Cregan presses his lips against yours. It was a gentle kiss.

Resting his forehead against yours, he asks, “Should I stop?”

“No,” you whisper. “Kiss me again.”

He kisses you again, but this time it’s full of urgency. Was it dishonorable? Yes, but the feeling of his mouth on yours was amazing. Addicting. When Cregan’s lips move to the side of your neck, the need to touch more of him becomes too much, and your fingers fumble as you untie the thick fur covering his shoulders and back.

He kissed below your ear, then quietly said, “You are a rare beauty.”

Your breath catches in your throat as you watch Cregan kneel in front of you. Putting his hands under your skirts, his palms glide up your thighs until they reach the top of your tights, and he pulls them down. You remain frozen in place, feeling his breath warm against your core; his stubble rubs against your skin as he plants gentle kisses above your womb.

“Wha—oh, gods.”

You barely manage to cover your mouth in time to muffle the moan that escapes it as Cregan uses his tongue on you in a way Aemond never has.

“Oh,” you use one hand to keep your skirts up and the other pressed against the wall. If it wasn’t for Cregan’s strong grip on your thighs, you would have lost your balance. “Gods, gods!”

Your eyes roll back, feeling the flat of his tongue against your clit. It doesn’t take long for you to reach your peak. Your legs shaking around his head as you scream Cregan’s name. You drop your skirts when he stands again; your eyes linger on his lips, fascinated by the way your arousal is smeared across them.

He’s so close, your breaths mingle in the air. “Princess,” he brushes his nose against yours. “My dragon princess—”

You grab hold of the waistband of his breeches and start pushing him backwards until his legs hit the chair facing the fireplace. Cregan smirks when you pull his breeches down low enough for his cock to spring free, then push him backwards. Lifting your skirts, you straddle his thighs and sink down onto his cock.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.”

You set a slow pace at first, rocking your hips until you get used to the stinging sensation of him stretching you out.

Cregan brings one hand up to cup your breast, “You are so perfect, so beautiful.”

You begin rocking your hips faster the more praise falls from his mouth. Tangling your fingers into his hair, you lean forward and press your lips against his.

You'll pray for forgiveness in the morrow, but for now you wanted nothing more than Cregan.