#oc: teeth in the sand

[worldruins]

Hello tumblr community here's something stupid. Featuring @bonniesband's OC.

[sand-tower]

Something has been eating the insides of my head for a while, something hungry, hungry, hungry

[thanksbutno98]

Beach day

John Price x wife!reader OC

Summary: John Price takes his family out for a beach day only for his wife to be the center of attention.

Warnings: NSFW, sexual themes, revealing clothing, light sexual harassment, swearing, groping, allusions to sex, not edited.

Authors Note: I’m from the US and have no clue what beaches are like in the UK so this is my first fic based in the US lol.

——————

“What do you mean you can’t come?” John asked as he clicked the infant car seat into place.

“Dad needs me to help out with Mitch until he’s free, he’ll be there in an hour. So, I’ll just meet you there.” You were too busy texting on your phone to see the annoyed looks your husband was giving you.

“It’s a god damn horse, not a person.” John countered.

Looking up from your phone you saw your burly man giving you a mean look through his eyebrows, with his arms crossed over his chest and muscular arms bulging. The muscles rounded at his shoulders and looked like rolling hills the way the summer sun was hitting them. John was dressed in a loose fitting tank top that was tight around his pectorals because they were so toned and absolutely delicious. The grey fabric hung low on the sides leaving the top half of his ribs exposed so you if he was in the right position you could just catch a glimpse of his hairy abs. He also wore his navy blue swim trunks that were a few inches above his knees, showing off his thick, tree trunk, thighs and how rock solid they were. You were distracted for a second at how hairy this man in front of you was; from his bearded face, arms, chest, to his legs. A layer of brown hair covered him everywhere except his back and ass.

“A horse I haven’t seen in ages and my dad needs saddled up so he has time to ride. It’s not that far from here I’ll only be an hour, maybe two.” You pleaded, running your fingers up John’s toned chest and wrapping your arms around his neck.

“It’ll be two on one. How am I going to manage both of them?” John nodded his head to your two children buckled up in the back seat.

“You’re their dad, you’ll figure it out.” Giving John’s scruffy cheek a sweet kiss you batted your eyes up at him. He hated that you were trying to flirt your way out of this.

“And now I have to drive on the bloody wrong side of the road.” With gritted teeth John let you kiss his scowl away until you were making out with him.

“C’mon we don’t visit my home often, don’t be such a spoil sport.” You pulled away breathlessly.

“Fine.” John smacked your ass harder than usual and moved to open the passenger side door for you.

“Give me a second to change into my riding pants and then drop me off.” There was no chance to answer as you jogged into the vacation home your dad owned. Leaving John frustrated he snatched his hat from the passenger seat where he was originally going to sit.

——————

“Fucking, fuck.” John grunted as he pulled the wagon with all the beach supplies and his son through the scorching sand then over a random pile of rocks until he was back on the sand again.

“Fuck this fucking beach.” He sounded like a crazy person muttering to himself but he was beyond pissed off.

This always happened. You two would make the trip home to the States so you could enjoy where you grew up and John would always be left to his own devices at some point. It was usually because your dad couldn’t help himself but join you on these trips since he’d moved to the UK to be closer to you. He would spend time with his buddies mostly but then beckon you to do something for him and you’d drop everything to help the man.

This is how John found himself with his 6month old daughter napping in a baby carrier strapped to his chest and his two year old screeching with laughter in the wagon. He swore your home state was having a constant heatwave every time he was here but you tried to explain it was normal this time of year. On what day was 94 degrees normal? The only thing cooling him off was the ocean breeze as his feet blistered against the scorching sand.

The beach was packed, it looked like everyone had made the same decision you two did, to make today a beach day. Scouting up and down the coast John tried to find a spot big enough for the tent you packed and all your other belongings. It felt like he walked a half mile before he found a spot. It was unfortunately next to a group of rowdy college boys which was probably why it was the only space open and big enough. It was a good spot as no one was in front of John blocking him from the water but there was a group of older couples to his left, college kids to his right, and a normal looking family behind him.

Pulling up Evelyn’s tiny pink bucket hat he checked to make sure she wasn’t too hot. He was greeted by blue eyes staring up at him and a wide toothless grin. She kicked her feet happily seeing his face which had John’s bad mood softening exponentially.

“Okay, this’ll be a good day. Right?” John poked her little chubby side getting a deep little giggle from her. She began to babble away, her sweet little baby voice music to John’s ears.

“Daddy, daddy, daddy! Look!!” Jj was trying to get out of the wagon as he pointed off into the ocean.

He had one leg thrown over the plastic side and was clutching on to it, his little foot kicking and searching for the solid ground. John wasn’t quick enough to catch the little boy as he tumbled out and fell flat on his face. A face full of sand didn’t seem to deter the rough little boy as he scrambled to his feet and tried to sprint for the water. John caught him by the forearm before he got too far.

“Uh, uh, uh. You have to wait for me.” John pulled the two year old back towards the wagon.

“NOOOOO!” Jj screeched, going limp as an attempt to be immovable. John simply picked him up and placed the now flailing toddler into the wagon to hopefully keep the tantrum contained.

It didn’t.

John was pulling out the tent to set up while sunscreen and beach toys went flying. Jj threw the buckets and pail straight at John, clocking him in the top of the head. With a sharp gaze shot Jj’s way he screamed and threw himself back to cry and stopped throwing things. John cringed hearing how hard the toddler whacked his head against the plastic wagon.

John was thanking his lucky stars the tent you bought was one of those pop up ones for babies. He had it set up in no time and then was stabbing your large lime green beach umbrella into the sand. He could feel eyes on him as his toddler continued to scream at the top of his lungs and now his baby girl joined in from her tent. John was quick to lay out the large navy beach blanket, chuck his shirt at the beach bag, and then hoist Jj of his shoulder, snag Evelyn, and jog down to the water. The cooler and beach bags could wait, he just needed the crying to stop. He felt lucky you had lathered everyone up in sunscreen before leavings because now John could skip that step.

Once at the waters edge John plopped the screaming toddler onto the damp sand and waited for the tide to come in. Sitting down he placed Evelyn on his lap and watched how her big brother rolled around and cried in the sand. As soon as the frigid water collided with Jj he was screaming for another reason. Evelyn immediately stopped her crying as the water came up to just her bottom and gasped.

John’s whole body shook with laughter as his little boy scrambled to his feet after face planting twice and then was chasing after the tide. Lounging back on his hands John enjoyed the sight of Jj running as fast as his little legs would take him away from the cold water rushing in. He let Evelyn splash in the cool water eventually lying back to rest against John and look around. There were a couple of hard falls that didn’t seem to phase the tough little boy as he played tag with the with ocean.

——————

“Fucking, fuck.” You muttered as your bare feet slipped quickly over the scorching sand and onto the rocks that lined the coast and separated the beach access to the actual shore.

“Fuck.” You muttered to yourself as you tried not to fall as the smooth stones slid against each other. You danced from foot to foot as your eyes searched up and down the coast looking for your lime green umbrella. You knew John would be somewhere near here since you two had agreed to meet to the left of the beautiful white stucco house with a dark green awning.

You quickly made your way down to the shore having caught sight of two umbrellas that could be yours. Trying to be quick you decided to jog lightly down the beach in your tight shorts that barely covered your bottom and fitted black tank top. You felt bad having left John with both children knowing it wasn’t for the faint of heart.

When you were leaving to meet John here you realized you left your one piece in the beach bag and you wouldn’t have a near by place to change. So you stopped at one of the local beach stores and changed out of your long pants and into this $70 ensemble. All the bathing suits in the shop were gawdy bikinis which were not your style but you knew John was already annoyed at your delay. So you snagged the only plain colored one which was yellow and a size too small.

Your little jog down the beach got you to the first lime green umbrella which happened to be where your family was. John was sitting under the shade with Jj across from him as the two of them ate sandwiches. Jj looked so cute matching his daddy with a similar bucket hat only the little boys was sky blue while John’s was his favorite tan you bought him. The toddler was dressed in light blue swim trunks with sharks on them and a dark long sleeve swim shirt. Evelyn was lounged back in a boppy holding her bottle, also having lunch. She was in a cute little teal one piece with a pink fril around the waist and a bright pink bucket hat.

“That’s a new development.” You smiled brightly and pointed at your baby girl who had somehow learned to hold her own bottle over night.

“She didn’t have a choice.” John smiled widely seeing you walk up from the shore in clothes he’d never seen you in before. It was such a relief seeing you. It felt like he was being run ragged and having you here to help was finally making this feel like a vacation.

“MUMMY!” Jj threw his arms in the air, the contents of his sandwich slipping out between the bread and falling onto his paper plate. Seemingly without thinking John picked it up, tilted his head back, and ate the roast beef and cheese in one bite.

“Hello there little man.” You were on your knees and hugging the tiny toddler tightly and kissing him all over. Jj was giggling uncontrollably and pushing you off.

“Mummy’s, so silly!” Turning to look at John Jj playfully rolled his eyes, his entire head joining the motion. He bit into his sandwich and then pulled the bread apart looking for the contents John’s had just sneakily ate.

“That she is. How was it?” John asked patting the spot on the large beach blanket next to him. Jj picked up the plate checking underneath for the rest of his sandwich until he seemingly gave up and ate from the bowl of fruit.

“Fun, Mitch is getting old. Think my dad’s coming to terms this might be the last summer with him.” With a sigh you tried to move those thoughts out of your mind. You just wanted to enjoy the day with your family.

Sitting back on your heels you peeled the new tank top off and then stood to shed yourself of the shorts. John’s eyes practically bulged out of his skull seeing you in that little yellow bikini. It was a thin strapped halter top that didn’t cover your breasts fully but was worse since you were still breast feeding.

Leaning to the side John tried to get a better angle and was dumb struck at the side boob you were sporting. That wasn’t even the most tantalizing part for him. The little bikini bottoms looked a size too small so they didn’t cover your round ass fully and came low in the front. They still covered everything they needed to but not nearly as much as you usually did

A little kids scream caught your attention for a moment so you turned to look and John swore he was about to get a nose bleed from just the sight of your round bottom. You weren’t in a thong or anything but the yellow bottoms covered about half of each cheek and left the crease between your thigh and ass on full display.

“You trying to kill me?” John sputtered out without thinking.

“What?” You asked confused.

“That bikini.” John pointed at your tits when you turned back to look at him.

Looking down you inspected yourself already knowing what you looked like. When you threw it on at the beach shop and looked at yourself in the mirror, you thought you looked good and it was a bit much but you had to be on your way.

“Yeah it’s a size too small but everything else was horrible and this was the only solid color they had.” Tugging at the straps around your neck you jiggled your boobs to see if they’d slip out but they didn’t, which made you smile.

“Stop doing that.” John’s voice sounded a lot more raspy which had you looking up at him.

To your surprise he now had a beach towel covering his lap and his cheeks had turned rosy. He was absolutely mortified to have popped a boner in public because of you and he knew it was going to be extremely noticeable in his swim trunks.

“Lellows, nice.” Jj told you as he fished through the lunch box you had packed.

“At least you still think I’m hot.” You snorted out a laugh at your husband predicament.

“Lunch.” Jj was now patting your thigh and handing you a sandwich.

“I’ll have that in a little. Do you want to go in the water with me?” You squatted down to your son’s level to ask. His head was shaking rapidly and then he was off running towards the shore.

“Wait!” Your stern words had the little boy stopping and tripping forward into the sand.

“Put the sandwich back then we have to get your floaties on.” The sweet orders were immediately followed to John’s surprise.

“Yes mummy mama.” Jj was jogging back.

He threw the sandwich at John and it clapped against his chest then fell to his lap. Watching your husband get hit by a sandwich and then just go to unwrap and eat it made you laugh. Passing by John a little too closely he wound up and smacked your ass hard. You let out a surprised squeak as John never did things like that in public. Before you could scold him you felt a much smaller and sandy hand smack your bottom and let out hiccuping giggles.

“See what you’re teaching him?” You couldn’t decided if you were annoyed or that it was funny Jj had just done that.

John was belly laughing which seemed to only encourage the toddler who tried to do it again. After getting Jj into his bright yellow swim vest you let him run ahead to the water. John said he’d stay back and watch Evelyn while she slept so you could enjoy some sunshine.

“I’ll be in the water.” You smiled wickedly at John, whose eyes were looking at everything but your own, mainly your tits.

“I’ll be watching. Probably too closely.” The joke had you smugly laughing as you chased after your son. John’s eyes were fixed on the way your ass moved as you ran and then he was wondering how good you tits must look while they bounced.

“Your mums going to be the death of me.” John spoke softly to his six month old who was now sleeping in the boppy. Leaning over he grabbed the empty bottle and chucked it into the diaper bag.

That’s when the sound of someone whistling loudly caught John’s attention. Looking over he saw the group of college aged boys gawking at you. Some were laughing and drinking their beers while they sat back in their chairs and took in the sight of you while two others looked to be making their way down to the shore. John instantly felt his blood pressure begin to spike. Glancing over to his left the crowd of older couples also seemed to have noticed you which was horrifying to John. One older woman caught eyes with him and smiled.

“I remembered when I use to look like that.” She called over, pointing at you.

“Me too!” It had to be her husband who made the joke that had everyone in their group laughing. The comment was unexpected and unwanted from John’s perspective. He was of the mind that people should mind their own business.

“Enjoy it while it lasts sunny, you’re a lucky man!” Another called. The way John was waved off was probably due to the angry look he was casting in their direction.

“Yeah, thank you.” John spoke back awkwardly and waved, hoping they would leave him alone.

“Oh your British!” One chortled but John chose to ignore them as he carefully watched the two college boys in the water, making sure they didn’t approach you and your son. He could hear the older group singing ‘Yankee Doodle Dandy’ which pissed him off but he ignored it.

John watched you like a hawk as Evelyn slept next to him. You were swimming around with Jj in your arms, tossing him in the water. It was nice seeing you enjoy the summer day with your son as you spent almost a half hour in the water. The two college student continued to float closer and closer to you and before John knew it one had struck up a conversation. You smiled politely and swam off with your little boy in your arms until you were getting out of the water and heading back. It was hard to enjoy the view of your skimpy bikini as you walked up the beach towards John with your son on your hip. He could see the boys in the water now turned and watching you walk away.

“They bothering you?” It was obvious John was pissed off by his tone alone. Giving him a sweet smile you tried to lighten him up with your own good mood.

“Not really, just being weird.” You shrugged it off as you finally made it to your umbrella.

“How?” It was practically demanded as if John were interrogating you, but you simply sighed happily and continued on.

“Asked if I was your nanny and when I’d be off work. Then followed it up with inviting me to some house party.” Again you tried to play it off as something no one needed to worry about.

“Nanny!? What kind of nanny wears. . . that.” John sounded exasperated as he gestured to your two piece. They had to be joking. John felt it was clear as day you were his wife here with him and your children.

“Mummy said fuck.” Jj interjected.

“Don’t say that.” You corrected before placing the two year old back on his feet. He seemingly didn’t care what you and John were talking about and went to go play with his toys in the sand.

“You said fuck?” John’s asked still looking angry.

“Told them to fuck off and leave me alone or they’ll be dealing with you.” You spoke sweetly. Kneeling in front of your husband you took his face in your delicate hands and kissed his lips.

“Yeah? I’m about ready to bury the lot of them.” Mumbled words were hardly above a whisper as John leaned in, a silent way of him asking you to kiss him again.

His scowl was softening peck after peck and until finally a small smile broke out across his lips. Something about you threatening other people by saying John would handle it made his ego boost and chest puff out. Of course he’d defended you in anyway you needed and he’d beat the living daylights out of anyone who bothered you; if only you let him.

“I love you.” You whispered, taking one of John’s hands from his lap and placing it on your back just above your ass.

The other landed on your hip and you hugged him around the neck. It felt wonderful to push your chest against John’s wiry one and you knew he loved it. Part of you was fantasizing about what it would feel like later on to have his sweaty hairy chest rubbing against your back. Glancing over your shoulder John watched as some of the college boys were looking over at you two. It was clear they were all jealous that you were all over him.

“You look so sexy, John. I can’t wait for tonight.” The whispered words snapped John’s attention back to you. It was obvious to him with that yearning look in your eyes, as you pressed your forehead to his, he was having a very similar effect on you that you had on him.

“Hm, are you?” John questioned playfully.

“Yes, so bad I’ll make sure to keep this on until you’re ready to take it off me.” You purred smiling widely when he pinched your bottom.

“Good, I cant wait to get you out of it when we get back. I’ll have to inspect the tan lines.” John mumbled, eyes looking down at your tits and smiling devilishly.

“Maybe you could give me a rub down with some lotion?” Placing one last kiss to your handsome man’s cheek you sat back, slipping from his strong arms.

“Oh, absolutely. Anything to get my hands on you.” It was nice having John’s flirty side instead of his pissy mood from moments ago. He leaned forward and lightly swatted the side of your ass before turning his attention back to your son.

“Don’t eat sand!” John spoke gruffly. Looking over your shoulder you could see a fist full of sand just at Jj’s mouth before his finger uncurled and it cascaded to the ground.

“If you’re hungry come have some grapes.” You waved him over but the little boy went back to playing.

“Why’d they even approach you?” John finally asked what had been on his mind. He hated that it was so easy for other men to approach you on the beach of all places. It was hard to keep himself from checking over at the college boys who seemed to still be eyeing you two.

“It’s the US John we actually talk to each other instead of pretending like no one exists around us.” You looked at him as if he were dumb but you knew American etiquette made him uncomfortable. Jj was standing and started to run towards the water again. You were quick to your feet chasing after him and snatching him up into your arms. He giggled wildly as you brought him back.

“Mummy! Down.” Jj whined and you placed him back on his feet. He went right back to the little hole he had dug.

“You look that good with kids that young?” The older woman from before called over to you.

“Surprising, right!?” You gleefully joked back taking the compliment well. John would be mortified to have a stranger complimenting his appearance. It made him uncomfortable to hear strangers commenting on yours.

“What’s your secret?” Another woman from the group asked. They were all in their 70s and up so it was just playful banter to you.

“A traumatic labour.” You said with a laugh. The morbid joke had John’s lips pressing into a firm line but it seemed to go over well with the women of that group.

“Oh been there sweetie!”

“My second time I swear I was skin and bones after that hospital stay.” The women of the group instantly started to go on about their own experiences with child birth and you went back to your family. You grabbed the lunch box from the cooler and dropped it next to where you were going to sit.

“What are you doing.” John hissed at you.

“Joking around.” You kneeled down beside him and opened up the lunchbox you packed. Pulling out a sandwich and grapes you sat criss cross and started to get ready to eat your lunch.

“You shouldn’t joke about that. You almost died.” It clearly got under your husband’s skin to mention the traumatic events that having Evelyn left you with in such a nonchalant manner.

“I know, I was there.” You snapped back in an equally hushed tone. Taking a bite of your sandwich you wished John would stop being grumpy at long last.

“I feel like I’m going mad.” It was clear how horrified John was whenever dealing with people in America. In typical fashion he wanted to be left alone and practically walk through life invisible to those around him.

“Well good thing we live in the UK or I think you’d wind up murdering someone here.” The jab normally would be intended as a joke but it was pointed due to John’s short fuse.

“Yes, some woman asked me if I did anything fun this weekend when I stopped to get coffee.” The retort was filled with frustration and loathing for what was considered basic manners here.

“Oh my god, how dare she.” You gasped sarcastically.

“It’s sickening to not be able to go on with my day without being asked how I’m doing ten bloody times by people I don’t know.” John was getting worked up again and it was starting to frustrate you and turn your own mood sour.

“You need to lighten up.” You snapped. Then thinking to yourself maybe you should also be lightening up and allowing John to complain and vent. He had been a good sport about you being late and how he was left on his own with the kids. It was only now that people were intruding on your personal time that he was getting upset.

Your harsh tone was interrupted by the sound of music blasting from the group of college boys next to you. The song ‘Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini’ started to play for everyone in the surrounding area to hear. The older group of men and women started hollering with laughter while the college boys sang along obnoxiously loud and started to dance. You were surprised they even knew a song this old to begin with.

“Not lightening up with that playing. I’m going to smash their bloody speaker.” John moved to get up but you threw yourself on to him, knocking him off balance. The two of you tumbled onto the beach mat as you hugged him tightly around his waist so he couldn’t get up.

You had to admit the song was obnoxious and the guys playing it were assholes. You could also admit it was pretty damn funny, especially seeing the older crowd dance in their seats. But you needed to save your husband from a murder charge so you clung on to him.

“Let go.” John barked at you.

“No.” You spoke indignantly.

“Let go!” John said with a bit more force.

“It’s not even about me.” You tried to reason.

“And how’d you make that out?” Anger was seeping from your husband’s words and you held on tighter when he tried to pry you off.

“My bikini doesn’t have polkadots.” Your response had John scoffing.

“Piggy pile!” Jj’s sweet voice rang through the summer air.

John was lying back on one elbows with you attached to him at the waist. His other hand was trying to get you off of him so he could go destroy those boys speaker and then murder them one by one. Being distracted he couldn’t stop the two year old jumping with all his weight into John’s chest. The force knocked the wind out of him while Jjs knees collided with John’s crotch, crushing his balls and forcing John’s arms to give out.

“Gah-“ John sucked in a choked and pained breath.

Jj and you were now laying on top of a very stunned John, all he could see was the bright green umbrella above him. It was like all the air was sucked out of him and the worst pain lit his body up like a Christmas tree. He couldn’t get himself to move from how much his balls hurt and the fact he’d gotten the wind knocked out of him by a two year old. Men bigger than him were incapable of taking him down in combat but here John was, incapacitated by a toddler.

“Oh my god, are you okay?” Scrambling to your feet you picked up the giggly toddler who now had his knees digging into John’s stomach and plopped him on his bum next to his sister.

“Here.” You got your phone out quickly and threw on some show you had saved which instantly hypnotized your son.

John was lying flat on his back, legs bent, arm thrown over his eyes and the other hand holding his crotch. He was lightly groaning and massaging his extremely sore crotch.

“You alright.” You lightly shook your husbands toned shoulder but got no response.

“John?” You sounded worried.

“Get them to shut the bloody song off.” Was all he spoke, sounding pained and pissed off.

Getting up from your spot you quickly darted over to the college students who looked excited to see you walking their way. If this song didn’t end you knew John was going to absolutely lose it once he was able to move again.

“Hey, assholes! Knock it off!” You shouted. Half of them looked shocked and apologetic while a few were still laughing.

“We’re just having fun.”

“Yeah and you’ll have a lot more when I tell the lifeguard you’re all underage.” You hissed, pointing at their cooler of beer. You weren’t even sure they were underage, it was a shot in the dark.

“Okay, okay, we’ll turn it down.” One tried to reason with you.

“Off.” You corrected. The music was quickly turned off and you huffed out an annoyed sigh and went back to your family.

“Anyone ever tell you you’re hotter pissed off?” One called.

“Yeah, my husband, who’ll be over there if you don’t cut the shit.” You shot back, which seemed to shut them up. They had noticed how jacked and huge the man they were hoping wasn’t your husband was.

“Okay, I’m back.” You said a bit out of breath. John hadn’t moved an inch and neither had your son. Evelyn on the other hand had rolled out of the boppy and was screaming. The music had startled her awake which only made you hate those boys more. Sitting down next to John’s head you grabbed your daughter and without thinking began to nurse her.

“Your tits are going to get me killed today.” John mumbled. You looked over to see him lying down flat as if he had been shot and staring at your breasts.

“I’m feeding her, stop being gross.” You muttered.

“Yeah, it’s normal to me. But not to them.” John gestured to the gawking looks you were getting from the young men at seeing you exposed.

“First time seeing a boob, virgins!?” You called out making them all seem embarrassed and avoid looking over at you again. The older couples cheered you on going as far as calling the college kids ‘little boys.’ Some of the women tried to comfort you and told you to feed your baby and ignore them.

“I hate America.” John muttered staring up at the green umbrella, body still recovering from the double blows he took.

“I know.” You cooed, pulling his hat off and running your fingers through his hair to scratch his scalp.

“Can we go home?”

“Soon, and we can go back to ignoring everyone around us.”

“Thank god.”

~~~~~tag list~~~~~

@exhaustedpotat0 @glitterypirateduck @ivymarquis @crazymela @what-0-life @boredfairy4 @hihhasotherfixations @stephanswhxre @shanjisan @k4es @luvleywrites @kita03-0 @midwesternwitchery @aleynaleia @suckerforbassist @misshoneypaper @theaonlax @blackstar9005 @tooterbutt @havoc973 @maladaptivedaydreamingbum @freshlemontea @cosmoscoffeee @sae1kie @ohworm-writes @ghostslittlegf @fanficwriterlover @arminarlertssword @faceache111 @azu21 @thirstyb-ches @nini-11-08 @sgtgarricks @kiki-is-hyperfixating @mayflysdie

[freakattack]

Favorite obscure Mario characters?

GLOM

The light of my fucking life. As a lifelong koopalinghead and specifically iggyhead i slurped up the Nintendo Adventure Books like a slug slurps slime and obviously a connoisseur of my caliber would immediately latch onto this thing. It's a cloning machine Iggy made that turns sand into clones but more importantly it is a 15 ft tall clanking clunking contraption with googly eyes (to see what it's cloning, natch), a stack of CRT monitors that each display a different horror B-movie at all times, and a constant trail of slime oozing from its tank treads. If this is not your favorite Mario character of all time then you're an idiot.

2. DOUGHNUTEER

I might be the only person who cares about doughnuteer and I couldn't tell you why. Actually I can, it's because he reminds me of a little shrew

And I like doughnuts.

3. PIRANHA SUE

In addition to the Nintendo Adventure Books i also lapped up the corresponding Nintendo Comics System, which followed a similar continuity in the absence of more official sources of mario lore. I never appreciated piranha sue as much as I should have in my youth but after revisiting these comics a couple years ago i can safely say that she is the greatest bootleg piranha plant I have ever met and it is an honor to witness her evil human teeth. I want her in mario baseball.

4. HERMAN SMIRCH

Herman smirch is a terrible person and character but I am transfixed by his awfulness and so he is here. Growing up the Game Boy Comic was like the evil counterpart to the Nintendo Comics System, but now that I'm grown up and evil myself I can truly appreciate the depths of its depravity. The gist of Herman Smirch is that he is a shitty loser republican from new jersey who obtains a game boy that, through the will of Tatanga (who lives in the game boy), manipulates him into committing increasingly violent crimes until he has embroiled himself in an international military conflict. The game boy comic was supposed to make people want to buy the game boy but in practice placed it center stage in a slow burn of this already terrible man's spiral into insanity. What a yarn. I have shown a highlights reel of herman's wacky antics here but if you're too lazy to click that link then I at least want you to see this:

5. FRACKTAIL

Fracktail is comparatively not obscure at all but I don't care it's my list I'll cry if I want to. If I put fracktail here then I would technically be justified in also putting other mario rpg all-stars like Bowyer and TEC-XX and Valentina but I won't go that far, Fracktail can be here on their behalf. Anyway, the first time I saw this thing I screamed, because I thought I was going to have to fight it, and then it was friendly and then I loved it forever. And then a stupid bastardly clown came and destroyed everything and ruined my life but this isn't about him. I love you Fracktail and I wish you were still here. You didn't deserve that

6. HAL 9001

Moving on

7. WOOSTER

Before Toadsworth, there was Wooster. The original long-suffering butler to the Toadstools, Wooster was a Nintendo Comics System Special who presumably passed alongside the Mushroom King he served. There isn't much to say about his character beyond the typical trappings of Beleagured Butler, but there is one thing that makes him interesting to think about and that is the comic called "Wooster Quit". In "Wooster Quit", every Mario character is FLABBERGASTED because Wooster Quit, and they can't imagine a life without Wooster. So the whole comic is about everybody trying to get Wooster back and of course Wooster comes back and the status quo is restored. But the premise of casting this mario OC as an essential player in these characters' lives is funny to me in a meta sense because we very much do live a life without Wooster. We are living in a post-Wooster world. It just goes to show that no matter how obscure you are, you are important to someone. Even if that someone is me.

8. ROACHIE

Roachie is the cockroach living in Wario's brain. One morning, she crawled up his nose, which Wario was horrified by but not for the reason you might think: "Is little roachie gone for good?!?!!?" As a devout cockroach appreciator, I was touched by Wario's genuine concern for God's most darling creature. Fortunately, little roachie was not indeed gone for good, because that very night, Wario heard her walking around inside his skull. Yippie! Hooray! We can only hope that she is living a nice life up there to this day. Hope is all we have.

9. BRAWL DOLL

This will come as no surprise to those who know me, but if you don't know me: fellas, I fucking love ventriloquist dolls. Charlie mccarthy was my idol growing up. I'll never be half the dummy he was. So a wario-branded wooden doll is basically my ant bait. Brawl Doll is what Geno could have been if Square wasn't full of squares.

10. THE BEETLES 'R' US SNIFIT

They put me in a mario game

[helenanell]

I’ll Be Seeing You || Dr. Abbott

Dr Jack Abbott x OC - (Functions as an x Reader too)

This is Part Two of - You’re Good

Summary: The shift ends and in the aftermath, it’s once again Dr Abbott who anchors me.

Notes: Minor Spoilers. Angst. Emotional hurt / comfort. (Sort of…in the way these two know how) Yearning. Denial of feelings. Mention of trauma and death.

WC: 2.3k

Tagging some people who interacted with the first part (thank you ❤️): @madsmilfelsen @nyheartbreak @lc-birdie @pear-1206

A hundred and twelve mass casualty patients and there were only six we couldn’t save. Not only. Never only. Each of them was a world— someone’s world.

Those we saved are safe within the hospital walls, in the best hands, one hundred and six that made it to nightfall.

Outside, only a few paces beyond the entrance to The Pitt, I stand on the sidewalk with the six we lost. I hold them with me beneath the stars they didn’t get to see.

I was with one of them when he died. A sixteen year old boy who clutched onto my hand, not as a patient to a doctor, but a terrified kid who’s always believed adults had all the answers. That an adult could save him.

Scrape your knee and run until you’re swept up into the safety of stronger arms. He looked up to me in the same way, but I wasn’t stronger, not in the ways that matter.

My shift has ended, but sirens still sound throughout the city. They’re always ringing, both in the streets and in the darkened network of my mind.

My head drops, chin against my chest and a quiet sob wracks my body. No tears fall. I keep them inside and with nowhere else to go, they run down deep and corrode something at the core of me.

I hear the steady swish that tells me the doors to the ED have expelled someone, but I don’t turn.

Once again, when I am adrift, it is Dr Abbott that finds me.

“First Robbie, now you.”

“He was up on the roof.” I say, not a question.

“He was on the roof.” Abbott affirms, the edges of his words jagged as if he’s torn them out of himself.

“He took your spot.” I say, almost managing to sound teasing.

“That’s exactly what I said.” He answers gruffly. Then, he’s leaning to the side, nudging his shoulder into mine. “Get yourself home, Doctor. Eat. Shower. Sleep.”

Neither of us have looked at the other yet. Well, I suppose I can’t know for sure that he hasn’t glanced at me but…I feel like I would know.

He’s never had the consideration to look at me in a way that doesn’t leave a trace.

Fighting off the sense of intimacy that always appears unbidden when I’m with him, I opt for sarcasm that I’m too weakened to make convincing. “You better tell me to brush my teeth too or I might forget.”

He scoffs indignantly. “Joke all you want, but you forgot to eat today.”

There it is. That feeling I get when he’s looking at me. It makes me more than furious with him.

Unfortunately, that anger doesn’t come out when I speak. Instead, I’m wilting beneath his scrutiny. No, not wilting because of him. He’s seeing me and I can no longer pretend to myself that I haven’t already wilted. Dead or dying, or at least feeling like part of me is.

“No, I ate—“ I cut myself off, realising the truth of it and the ache of absence in my stomach.

Shit. He’s right. The bastard wasn’t even on the whole shift and he knows I didn't eat.

Then, as if he can hear my thoughts, Abbott produces a protein bar from his pocket and holds it out in front of me. They’re not in the break room, so I know he must have brought it in. It’s also the only protein bar I like. All of others taste like sand.

I also know, that he doesn't eat these, always turns his nose up, says it tastes like soap. But he brought it. He made the conscious effort to grab one as he rushed to help with an emergency.

My throat tightens as I reach out and force myself not to snatch it out of his hand. He releases it into my shaky grip, hand hovering for a second before he drops it.

I feel like I owe him now. I hate it, so I pay him back by meeting his eye with as little ire as possible. I can’t examine why his consideration burns in a way his apathy cannot and never has.

He holds my gaze, quietly, kindly. Not reacting or uttering a word. Letting me test myself.

I break eye contact and shove the protein bar in my hoodie pocket. When I’m back to staring at the street, he seems to feel he can speak to me again.

“Six years and you’re still not taking care of yourself,” he says, “Patients suffer if you’re not operating at a hundred percent.”

I sigh, releasing a grieved breath and yet all of the hurt of the day remains lodged within.

“Okay, Abbott, I’m exhausted and so are you, could you save the lecture for another time?”

I feel him shake his head. “Can’t do that.”

“Why?” I say tightly.

His next words are so soft it feels like they don’t belong in the place we’re standing in. Doesn’t belong in the night that I know he uses to hide himself away in. He stands in his safe place and releases some real part of himself to me.

“Because I don’t see you,’ he says hoarsely. “I never see you anymore.”

I slowly turn my head to look at him, and he’s already watching me. I falter at the sincerity sitting boldly in his eyes.

I’ve never known what to do when he looks at me like that. I always shrink away, curl into myself defensively.

I do all that I’m capable of in my current state: I throw the sentiment I can’t decipher back in his face, but this time the words are too loaded, too heavy. They land right by my feet again.

“Well, that’s good for me isn’t it? I’ll never hear the lecture.”

A frustrated divot appears between his brows.“For someone so exhausted, you’re putting a lot of effort into fighting me.”

“I am exhausted!” I exclaim. “That’s why I’m fighting you, you fucker, I can’t talk to you when I’m—“

“Sad.” He finishes for me.

He’s right. He’s right again and I want him gone all the more because he’s articulated an emotion in myself that I didn’t even want to say out loud. He used to do that all the time when we were on shift together.

My emotions are something I struggle to offer up, they always come in a closed fist that someone would have to pry open to get to. With everyone else it works, but Abbott doesn’t need to pry, he just looks at me and sees what I’m trying to hide as if I'm wearing it.

He takes from me without touching me. He knows me, without my ever freely giving him anything.

I feel held hostage by his knowing of me, an intimacy he snatched in that very first week of my internship.

“You’re sad,” I throw back at him, furious at being perceived. I’ll hurt him by showing him I see him too. “You- you’ve always been sad. You hold it within you and don’t stop moving so you can ignore the feeling. You work at night so none of it sees the light of day.”

His eyes are the overspill. Seeking, searching for people he can help, a fight to throw himself into because he can’t bear to be stationary. Because it is all he knows and if he does stop, he fears he’d atrophy and never move again.

So maybe sad isn’t the right word, instead it’s a silent devastation that he harbours like a secret. He hasn’t successfully kept the secret from me, but I’ve kept it for him.

Abbott doesn’t react to what I’ve said. Instead, he steps closer, then in front of me. He ducks his head into my field of vision.

“I’m not lecturing you, Doctor,” he says, “I want to know that you will go home, eat and rest.”

“You forgot shower.” I grumble.

Abbott reaches up a hand and scrubs it over his weary face. “You are testing my patience. Six years and that’s not changing anytime soon, huh?”

“It’s a test you are voluntarily taking! You came over to me!”

“You were alone.” He says as if those three words are an acceptable answer. An obvious answer.

“And?” I prod.

It’s his turn to snap. “And- what do mean fucking and? We just went through hell and back! We lean on each other!” He hisses.

Abbott looks wrecked as the words spill out. They’re ragged, almost as if barbed, cutting his way up out of his throat.

“You don’t.” I say frankly. “You never lean on anyone, Jack.”

A sharp intake of breath. Then his head drops defeatedly, a strained admittance coming out of his mouth. “I did. Against my better judgement, I did lean on someone.“

“Did?” I question, curious despite myself. “Why the past tense?”

He lifts his head, his eyes back to searching me for…for what? For more to take? More to know?

What he comes out with, is a body blow. “You should be proud of yourself, for…all that you are.”

The blow has caused a crack, and I’m terrified of what will find its way out. “Hmm, I’ll pass on that.” I snark.

Abbott groans, deep and from his chest. “Christ, you’re a walking headache. Learn to take a compliment.”

“Haven’t you heard, Abbott? Pride comes before a fall.” I say, already trying to fill in that crack with feigned aloofness.

“No, you’re not falling any time soon,” he insists, “listen to Robbie. Be proud. Let your heart break, but don’t think it can’t be put back together. Feel the grief of this day.”

“Put my heart back together so it can break over and over?”

“That’s what this job is. It’s what we choose every day.”

My eyes prickle with unshed tears. “I…I don’t know that I can choose this anymore. This shift…I thought I had a hold of myself, that I could cope with whatever's thrown at me.” My voice breaks and I look to the ED entrance with watery eyes. “I couldn’t cope with this.”

Abbott takes a step, then another. He moves until the distance is closed, he’s looking down at me and we’re toe to toe.

“You did. Coping isn’t a lack of feeling.” He says huskily. “It’s staying on your feet. You’re on your feet. Exhausted and hurting, but standing.”

More tears rise, too much to hold in. They spill. One, then two, roll down my cheeks.

“Fuck.” I hiss, reaching up to furiously wipe them away. “Nope, not doing this in front of you.”

I try to take a step back, to put distance not between our bodies, but to between myself and the weight of his stare, the agony of his knowing. The pain of being perceived by a man who has always felt out of reach.

But, as I try to back away, Abbott’s hands fall on my arms. Not heavily- light, but comforting, like the first layer of snow. But he’s not cold. He’s warm and steady and holding me in place.

“Hey,” he says. I feel his attention sweep my face but all I can do is look down at his shoes. “You absolutely can do this in front of me. Just…stand still for a minute. Breathe.” The last word is a whisper on his own tremulous breath.

His voice trembles not in fear or anger, but I don’t know what it is.

There’s an unsteadiness unfurling in both of us as we stand there together. Something, somehow, blooming in the darkness of the night.

Unsteadiness has my head dropping and I sway forward, into him. My forehead brushes his chest. I don’t let myself lean on him, not fully, because then what will I do when he steps away? Fall?

I can’t let myself lean on him.

Abbott’s thumbs ghost over my skin, almost a soothing back and forth, as if he also knows he can’t press in.

I extricate myself from him as if tearing something asunder. I almost stagger back.

“Goodnight.” I look up at him, his dark eyes shining, more affecting than the starlight above.

He nods. Reluctantly. Resignedly. I can’t know. I don’t know that I want to.

“You take care of yourself.” He says, backing away himself. “Take care and come back.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

“You can and you will. You’re made for this. It’s in your goddamn bones. You’re the light of salvation, doctor.” Abbott says, giving me no room to resist. “And I will see you around.”

It’s not an order, but it’s not a plea either. Just like everything else with him…I have no goddamn clue.

“You never see me, remember?” I say.

Jack actually smiles then. It’s small, but it’s there. It’s painfully tender. Not painful for me, but as if in some way it hurts him. Something hurts him.

“If this job teaches you anything, doctor, it should be that anything and everything can change.” He begins to back away but stops himself. “You know what?…Robbie and I are going for a drink. Come.”

“You told me to go home.”

Abbott rolls his eyes. “Come for a drink. Then go.”

“Why?”

“So that I can see you sooner rather than later.”

Despite myself, I crack smile. “I—“

The ED doors open again and Robbie steps out into the night. He looks between us, eyes sparkling curiously before he focuses on me. With the hand still holding onto the strap of his backpack he lifts and finger and points. “You’re coming for a drink.”

My eyes drift to Jack. “It seems that I am. Good to show my face. Be seen.”

The three of us walk to the nearby benches and crack open a beer with our colleagues. But, I soon realise that more than anyone else, I'm with Abbott.

And I have no idea what to do with that feeling. Worse still, I don’t want the feeling to go away.

[tf2occontest]

The Therapist VS THE HUNTER VS The Barman

(Full matchup list here)

Alright team, here's a recap: This is a contest to determine who amongst you will take the top of the leaderboards and be hired at TFI! Simply put, whoever gets the most votes gets to move on, and whoever doesn't... Well. They'll be put down swiftly and cleanly. :}

So, mann your stations, because here are your next contestants! Vote for your favorite mercenary who you want to win the TF2 OC Contest! - P

OC INFO UNDER THE CUT!

We highly encourage you to take a peek to make your decision!

The Therapist

@hazardtoons

Image credit: @/hazardtoons

You wouldn’t expect an organisation like Team Fortress Industries to invest in something like mental health treatment for its hardened soldiers. The one giving them this generous care is a woman only known by those who work at the company as Therapist - a seemingly well-intentioned lady there to give everything from a shoulder to cry on to someone to seek advice from.

There is a catch, however. Not all the information she gathers from her clients is used for good. Underlying that comforting presence is another tool of oppression used in the company.

THE HUNTER

@scozthewoz

Image credit: @/scozthewoz

hailing from the london countrysides of the united kingdom, this insatiable butcher with the cheshire grin is a teenage expert at the art of paid homocide, despite how squirrely she may look! her presentation is a vauge riddle, hinted at with hyena-like cackles, a cruelty behind her constantly bared teeth she tends to mask as friendliness. she prides herself on her toys, each of them meticulously handmade and carefully hidden like snakes in the sand, every beartrap or snare serving nicely to hold her prey in place and maim them as it does so just in case one pesky rabbit weasles out! this viscera-lusting vermin prefers a more hands-on approach when she crawls out of the walls to play, often putting her guns to the wayside in favour of her beloved knife -- and on occasion, her teeth.

a taste of blood goes a long way for her motivation, you know.. why don't we give her a little push?

The Barman (Thomas Armstrong)

@trypo-p

Image credit: @/trypo-p

Born and raised in Stratford, Ontario, Barman is an affable gentleman who specializes in the art of mixology. Among the mercenaries, Barman is relatively tame in comparison; he gets along with everyone and is seen as an almost "parental" figure to most of the team. Whether it be telling old stories of his life back in Canada, or smacking Scout on the back of his neck for forgetting his manners, he has his ways of making the team remember that he's their elder.

Most of the man's time is spent in his makeshift bar in the team's base, or in his own room. That, of which, contains a multitude of model train sets. Sadly Barman was unable to live his dream of becoming a train conductor, but he can still lose himself in the fantasy when he's alone in his room with his models.

When he's in his bar, however, he gets to have casual conversation among his teammates. During his time working for the team he had become quite friendly with Demoman and Spy, often spending nights with them at the bar after a long battle. He'd listen to everyones worries, give them advice, then laugh the rest of the night away to lighten up the mood.

[aphroditsdaughter]

IAMGONNAGETYOUBACK

told my friends, “i hate you but i love you just the same”

paige bueckers x OC (part 2 to guilty as sin) but can be read as a standalone

pretty heavy stuff don’t read if you’re under 18 or do im not responsible for your media consumption (all of the photos and graphics are from pinterest and belong to their original creators) also POV changes

like, feedback and comments are always appreciated!!

Paige’s mouth slips from between my thighs, her lips wet with me, her breath brushing across my skin like smoke. My body is still reeling, boneless and trembling, but she doesn’t give me space to breathe. She’s already climbing up my body, eyes dark with the kind of hunger that never fades.

“You think I’m done with you?” she whispers into my neck. Her voice is velvet-wrapped steel. “Cmon Pia you know you got another left one in you”

I don’t even have the strength to answer. I shake my head, already aching again.

“No?” she growls, kissing me hard biting my lower lip until I moan. “you’re a better liar than that? aren’t you?”

She shifts her body, gripping my thighs, spreading me wide, her strength effortless. She presses her core to mine wet, hot, aching. Our slick folds slide against each other, a slow, molten grind that makes me gasp.

“Fuck—Paige…”

“I want you to feel me,” she breathes, forehead to mine. “Every time you go home to him. Every time you look at him across that dinner table, wearing that pretty little lie of a smile.”

Each word is a knife wrapped in silk.

“You can love him, hate me, lie to my face I don’t care,” she says, voice rising with each thrust of her hips. “You’ll still come crawling back. You always do.”

She begins to move, rolling her hips in slow, deliberate circles, her clit brushing mine with every pass, every drag of her wet heat against mine. The friction is maddening. Our bodies slide together with a rhythm that's cruel and beautiful all at once.

With Paige it’s not just sex—it’s a haunting. A claiming.

Every time we were together, I could feel it—that quiet urgency in the way she touched me, the way her eyes lingered a second too long, as if she needed to stake her claim all over again. It wasn’t possessive, not exactly. It was more like a ritual, like drawing a boundary in the sand just to feel safe, even knowing the tide would come. I’d made her feel that way, like I was always half a breath from leaving, something wild and unpromised. So she marked me in small ways: with the press of her hand on my back, with silence that said more than words, with looks that burned like questions she couldn’t ask. And I let her. Not because I belonged to her, but because in those moments, I wanted to

Her hands grip my hips tight, holding me in place while she fucks me with her body, her voice, her rage, and her tenderness twisted together like vines choking a rose.

“I’m gonna get you back,” she whispers against my mouth, almost tender now. “Maybe not the way you think. Maybe not even the way you want.”

Her teeth graze my throat. “But you’ll remember this. When you’re in bed with him, thinking of me. When he touches you and you flinch, because it’s not the way I do.”

I whimper, overwhelmed her words, her rhythm, her dominance crashing over me like a tide.

“And maybe I’ll get you back by loving you more than he ever could,” she hisses. “Or maybe I’ll ruin you so thoroughly this time, no one else will even try.”

She grinds harder now, faster, our clits dragging against each other in slick, perfect friction. I feel her shaking above me, her muscles tense, sweat slicking her chest. Our nipples brush with every thrust. We’re skin to skin, heart to heart, sin to sin.

“Say it,” she demands. “Say you’re mine.”

I hesitate—but only for a second. My body’s too far gone, my pleasure cresting again like a wave crashing before I can pull away.

“I’m yours,” I cry out, voice breaking apart in her mouth.

But it’s a lie.

And we both know it.

The words taste like betrayal as they leave my lips sweet and sour, soaked in guilt. My body is hers in this moment, yes. My heart too. But I’m not going to leave him. Not tomorrow. Not next week. Probably not ever.

I say I’m yours with her hand between my thighs and his ring still faintly ghosting the skin on my finger. I say it because I want to believe it, even as something inside me recoils.

And Paige doesn’t stop. She doesn’t flinch. But I feel it the way her body stills for a half-second, like my voice cracked something open in her. Like she caught the hollow behind the words.

But she pushes through it. Forces the truth out of me through touch, through pressure, through pain.

“I’m yours,” I sob again, chasing the high, chasing the lie. “I’m yours.”

And I come undone, again, for her. My orgasm hits like a storm, tearing through me loud, desperate, consuming. I cry out her name, clutching her back, clawing her shoulders as my body arches into hers. for the woman I never left, not really. My body clenches around the lie and spills over, pleasure ripping through me so hard I feel the guilt burning right behind it.

She comes with me, her moan strangled, gasping my name into my mouth, her nails sinking into my waist as our slick bodies grind together, frantic and wild and so close it feels like we're trying to disappear into each other.

For a moment, there’s only the sound of our panting, the cooling sweat on our skin, the silent space between heartbeats.

Then she speaks—soft, but sharp.

“I hope he feels it,” she says. “Every time I fuck it out of you.”

She lies back beside me, tangled in the sheets, not touching anymore. Just breathing. Just watching.

And I lie there beside her, skin still buzzing, thighs still slick, knowing I’m going to get up in a few hours and go back to a man who doesn’t make me feel even half of this.

The morning light spills through the blinds, soft and relentless, kissing my skin with an unforgiving warmth that makes my stomach churn, making me squint and groan as I roll over. I’m tangled in sheets, half of my body still pressed against Paige’s, her chest rising and falling in a deep, peaceful sleep. If it weren’t for the tangled mess of our limbs and the reminder of last night’s chaos, it would almost feel like a normal morning. Almost

“Paige. Get up.”

“Paige, please. He’s going to be home soon.”

My voice cuts the air. Too sharp. Too cold. Like I didn’t just fall apart in her hands.

She groans into the pillow, her voice muffled but dripping with annoyance.

“Bro, what are you even doing?”

Still half-asleep, she stared at her like I was the one acting out of pocket. My head was heavy, heart heavier.

Last night, she said she’d leave him. Promised, even. But with Pia, the truth always shows up wearing half a disguise.

Now she’s pacing. Panicking. watching me like I’m the stranger. Like I’m not the same woman she just had shaking under her fingers, begging her name into the mattress.

“You’re seriously asking me what I’m doing?” I say, pulling on jeans with shaking hands. “I’m trying to get you out before my husband walks through that door and sees the Dallas Wings’ star point guard half-naked in our fucking bed!”

My voice cracks. Panic now curling around the edges of my words.

“and you’re over here acting like it’s brunch time.”

I say it with more urgency than I meant to, but panic’s starting to set in. It’s almost like I’m talking to myself at this point, more than to Paige. I need her to leave, but she’s making it impossible.

“Paige, please. It’s almost nine. His flight must’ve landed like forty minutes ago”

she rolls her eyes. unbothered

She lets out an exaggerated sigh, and I can almost hear her thinking, “Are you serious right now?”

“So you don’t even know when your own husband is arriving home? Wow, Pia. I mean, cheating on him a thousand times wasn’t enough? You can’t even remember when he’s coming home to you?”

“Paige…”

She stands, finally, in that slow, feline way she always does like she owns the air around her. Like there’s no version of this where she loses me.

“That’s a shame” she says, slipping her shirt on without looking at me. “I was hoping for a second round.”

I wanted to punch her. Dead in the mouth.

But that would mean I’d have to bruise the perfect curve of her jaw, the nose I’ve kissed like a prayer.

Maybe I should. Maybe the pain would help me forget.

“I swear to God—”

“Alright, alright,” she cuts m off, raising her hands like a surrender.

“I’ll go. Don’t worry.”

But then she flashes that smile. That smile—the one that used to make me forget my own name. The one that made me say “I do” and hear her voice instead of his.

I’m pulling on my clothes in silence. She’s quiet too. Not mad just… disappointed.

And maybe a little cruel about it.

She lets out a sigh, low and heavy. “Nothing,” she says when I ask what’s wrong.

But it’s not nothing. It never is.

She wants me to ask her to stay. Wants me to say I’ll finally leave him. Wants me to make this real.

But I won’t.

So she grabs her keys. Shrugs her jacket on.

No kiss goodbye. No goodbye at all.

Because if she kisses me, I won’t let her leave.

And if she asks me to stay, I’ll say yes.

Even if I mean no.

But she doesn’t ask.

She just slams the door behind her.

And in the silence she leaves, I hear it echo—

I’m gonna get you back.

Not now.

Not gently.

But she will.

Because Paige?

She doesn’t lose.

Not without burning something down first.

[seijorhi]

invidia ii

a (very belated) christmas present for my beloved wife @iwaasfairy who has, for two years straight, begged me for more shinnosuke content. i hope you like it bby! kuroo tetsurou x female reader, kuroo shinnosuke (oc) x female reader part i w.c 3.1k tw: noncon/dubcon, slight daddy kink, (forced) infidelity, yandere themes, nsfw, smut, age gap, i guess hints of breeding kink, dilf kuroo

“Why did your parents split up?”

Mid-way through pulling on a pair of old, grey sweatpants, mopping at beads of water from his shower still rolling down his bare chest, Shinnosuke throws you a curious look, but shrugs easily enough.

“They weren’t ever really ‘together’ to begin with. They tried the whole co-parenting thing to start with but mom… they never loved each other. Hell, I don’t even think they liked each other most of the time beyond–” he breaks off, his nose wrinkling in distaste. It almost makes you laugh. “Anyway, dad always said she had one foot out the door from the start. Dad was the one who stuck around to raise me.” There’s no animosity in his tone, he says it like it’s the simple truth. You’ve never met the woman, never having shown up to any of the Nekoma games, his graduation, any of it. You’ve seen a picture or two, overheard the odd phone call, but for as long as you’ve known him, the only real parent in Shin’s life has always been his dad.

If there’s anyone he idolises, it’s his father.

 Which is why the words that he says next – casting aside the damp towel in the general direction of the laundry basket (boys) and sauntering on over to join you in bed – take you entirely by surprise. “We’ll go visit her in Golden Week. I want her to meet you.”

And again, the words are just that; words. Shin kisses you, a sweet peck on your lips, and wastes no time in scooping you back into his arms and settling back with a contented sigh. They’re just words, but there’s this look in his eyes when he says it that makes you think he means something more. 

Your stomach flutters.

—

‘You really wanna break his heart like that, kitten?’

—

“Still not feeling any better?” Shin asks, brushing your hair back to feel your forehead. The beginnings of a frown start to take shape, teeth gently burrowing into his bottom lip, but he straightens and sighs, and that hint of discontent smoothes over like it had never existed in the first place. He strokes your hair again and offers a small, sympathetic smile. “No temperature, that’s gotta be a good sign, right?”

You’re a coward.

“It’s not my head, I just…” don’t have any visible, plausible symptoms for the fake illness that’s currently keeping you curled up in Shin’s bed. Away from the creep who’d smiled and fucking winked at you Christmas morning. “I just feel off.”

“Poor baby,” he coos, laughing when your face screws up and you swat at him.

Right now, swaddled in his hoodie, his fingers carding through your hair and that stupid, impish, almost believable grin beaming down at you, you want to forget. To pretend. 

Because there’s a pit in your stomach. A bitter, gnarled, seething mass. This moment right now, in Shin’s bed, it’s like glass, paper thin and already cracked, it can’t possibly last, and yet you’re clinging to it so desperately, head buried in the sand, willing yourself to pretend, from one heartbeat to the next, that what’s happened won’t break the two of you. 

That your stomach doesn’t threaten to upend when you catch sight of those hazel eyes peering down at you – the same shape and shade as his father’s.

You shudder out a breath, and what little levity there was between you two gets sucked out with it. Shin’s expression gutters.

Yeah. 

His fingers don’t leave your hair, though. Playing idly with the strands as though the suffocating tension in the room doesn’t exist at all. “Dad’s taking us out to dinner tonight,” he tells you. Reminds you, because you knew all of this beforehand. Everything but the party. “Do you want me to run by the pharmacy to get you something?”

Another tap at the fractured glass. 

That’s Shinnosuke all over, isn’t it? You might’ve been the manager back in the day, but it was always Shin who kept an eye on his team, on you, to make sure everyone was good. 

“No,” you shake your head. “I’ll–” the words get stuck in your throat. “I’ll see how I feel in an hour or so. ‘m still a little tired.” 

“You want some tea, sweetheart?”

‘Shh, sweetheart, you gotta keep it down.’

A cold sweat breaks out on the nape of your neck. No. No, no, no, no–

“Baby?”

You flinch like he’s slapped you, jerking away from the hand he’s wound in your hair. The startled look he shoots you borders on wounded, but you’re already squirming towards the edge of the bed, stumbling to your feet like a newborn foal. “Bathroom,” you manage to eke out, your voice sounding far too strangled and hoarse to pass as anywhere near the realm of fine. 

Shin doesn’t follow, doesn’t so much as utter a word – all kicked puppy confused – as you throw the door closed behind you and collapse back against it, a sweaty, ashen mess. 

He usually calls you love. Baby. Princess when he’s being a little shit. 

Sweetheart’s a rare one. 

Your heart races, a runaway train pounding in your chest. His eyes, his touch, sweetheart, sweetheart, sweetheart.

Another shuddering breath in. Out. 

Fuck. 

There’s a knock – not at the ensuite door, the sound’s too muffled for that, and you didn’t hear Shin’s footsteps (though you’re not sure you would, over the pounding in your ribs) meaning that the knocking’s at his door. 

There’s only one other occupant in the house. Though you try your damndest to fight it, there’s no stopping the wave of panic that stabs through you. Shin’s door creaks open, soft voices barely creeping through the gap in the door, and your fingers go rigid, nails clawing at the black and white flooring as though you can ground yourself by breaking through it instead. 

You don’t realise you’re crying.

Not until the droplets splatter on the tiles by your feet.

—

You should’ve left days ago.

After Christmas, when you’d ducked out from under Shin’s arm and lurched for the nearest bathroom, when it’d finally clicked for him that you violently hurling your guts up wasn’t the result of a simple hangover, you’d tried. Short of admitting the truth – and swinging a bat at the bees’ nest – convincing Shin to leave his dad’s place goes about as well as drawing blood from a stone. 

He’s even less thrilled about the prospect of you going back by yourself, leaving him to spend what’s left of the week with his dad like they’d planned.

There’s only so far you can push without breaking something. You, probably. You and Shin, almost definitely. 

Even so, you might’ve had more of a backbone if he hadn’t been so… Shin. All coaxing and concerned. Logical to a damn fault. 

‘You don’t wanna be stuck in a car driving for hours when you’re feeling shitty, love, and besides, dad’s place is bigger than ours. Comfier. You’ll probably be on the mend by tomorrow anyway, so there’s no point in us heading back.’

If you weren’t trying to salvage what’s left, or maybe clinging to the idea that you can – and want to – then it would’ve been easier just to go.

You wouldn’t still be here, stuck in the house of the man who’d– who’d raped you.

You wouldn’t be avoiding your boyfriend’s eye.

You would’ve screamed the whole house down before Kuroo Tetsurou ever bent you over the kitchen counter.

But the gentle extrication in the early hours of the morning, Shinnosuke’s lips brushing against your cheek, the sleepy rasp of his voice as he mumbles a quiet, “Love you,” before slipping away – you barely stir, cozy and safe and content.

He loves you. Shin loves you. 

A while later – minutes, maybe, or hours, it’s hard to tell when you’re still in the grips of sleep – the mattress dips under Shin’s weight, and those strong, sculpted arms seek your warmth again, you only sigh and lean back against him. 

“I love you,” you whisper, not yet willing to open your eyes and face another day of lying to him. 

The arm slung over your waist curls tighter, his face nuzzling into your neck. The kisses he leaves there aren’t affectionate, exactly, they’re not gentle, when teeth catch, nipping sharply at your skin, only to be soothed by a lave of his tongue.

And the laugh that rumbles at your back – a shade off your boyfriend’s – is anything but nice. 

“Yeah? Fuck, you’re sweet in the morning.”

This time, you don’t hold back. You shriek, kicking out like a wild thing – or you would have, if Kuroo’s hand hadn’t clamped down on your mouth, if his weight hadn’t shifted so that rather than lying curled up behind you, he’s half on top of you, pinning you down to the mattress with a thigh lodged between yours. 

“Uh-uh-uh, we were doing so good, kitten. Don’t you wanna be daddy’s good girl?”

Your only answer is a ragged noise, torn from somewhere deep inside of you. He chuckles again, grinds against you, his cock a thick, unignorable presence pressed at your ass. There’s nothing but the thin cotton of your sleep shorts separating it from you, and from past experience, that barrier won’t do much to deter him for long.

Kuroo rolls you onto your back and slots himself nicely between your legs. Naked, you realise with a fresh stab of fear.

You scream the moment his palm leaves your lips to capture your wrists, scream for Shinnosuke – for anyone – so loudly that it feels like you’ll bleed for it. Let him come running, find you pinned and squirming, terrified beneath the man who raised him.

Let it be the final crack that obliterates everything. 

If Shin sees you like this, utterly petrified, on the verge of being raped again and still thinks it some kind of a betrayal, let him choke on it. You don’t care anymore, you just want someone to stop this. 

(Shin wouldn’t, would he?)

But Kuroo only snickers. Leans over to lick along the edge of your lashes, where hot, glistening tears are already spilling over, trickling down to disappear in your hairline. “Your boy’s not here, but we don’t have long ‘til he gets back. You’ll forgive me if we bypass the foreplay this morning, right, sweetheart?” You shudder, goosebumps prickling where his breath washes over you, and you squeeze your eyes shut and violently – pointlessly – shake your head. “We’ll have to save eating your pretty little cunt for next time.”

All too eager, he hungrily captures your lips again and yanks down your shorts, taking your panties along with them.

Christmas morning, you’d been shoved face down over the kitchen counter while he’d fucked you from behind. You’d give anything for that distance right now. At least then you hadn’t had to endure his suffocating warmth, having him squeeze and grope at your tits over your old, threadbare tee.

You wouldn’t have to writhe away from his mouth while he rucks your bare thighs up either side of his hips, dragging you closer.

Even with your eyes screwed tightly shut, you can’t pretend that this isn’t happening as Kuroo spits and a heartbeat later the thick head of his cock slowly – agonisingly slowly – splits you apart.

You forget how to breathe. 

Eyes popping open and back arching up into his chest, your fists clutch desperately at the sheets of Shin’s bed, trying to squirm away, only the grip he has on you makes sure there’s nowhere for you to escape to. He’s big, long, mostly, and you’re too tight to take him easily, especially without any prep. The spit doesn’t help any, and Kuroo doesn’t care, groaning out in pleasure as inch by inch he pushes himself deeper, until at last he’s seated firmly inside of you. “Good fucking giiiirl,” he purrs, a kiss pressed to the tip of your nose.

A tiny, drawn out whine is all you can manage when your lower half radiates pain. 

“Gonna fuck this perfect pussy nice ‘n full,” he tells you. “Give you everything you need, sweet girl. You can take it. I know you can, you just gotta breathe for me.”

But unlike last time, he doesn’t allow you the luxury of a minute to adjust. His hips draw back and punch forward, jolting another mewling gasp from your lips. And again. And again. The pace isn’t violent so much as intense, like each thrust ignites something inside of him that burns for more.

He clasps your wrists in one hand, pants into your open mouth between frenetic kisses, groans out your name in that shuddering gasp.

“Mine,” he pants, beads of sweat dripping from his chest, his chin, rolling down onto you. “You’re daddy’s girl– fuck!”

Your cunt reacts accordingly, flexing around his cock, easing its passage so that the wet, lurid sounds of him fucking you quickly fill the air. A betrayal that has your cheeks flaming. 

The muscles in your thighs burn, Kuroo all but forcing them back towards the bed, his weight driving into you with fervour. A quick adjustment to the angle of your hip and his cock hits a spot deep inside of you that has you choking on a moan of your own, a burst of bright, sizzling pleasure bleeding through the pain.

Kuroo grins ferally at the sound of it. Drops his weight on an elbow and bucks into you, hitting it again. Your inner walls twitch, squeezing and slick, dragging noises from you that make you wanna burn with shame – that, or cut yourself loose entirely. You can’t muster resistance when he swallows them down, sucking on your tongue, moaning into your mouth. His momentum turns rabid, his hand no longer encircling your wrists, but entangled with them, pressing them down to the mattress. “Almost… there…” he grunts, gasping as he curls over you, abs flexing.

A shudder rolls through him, his hips faltering just as something vital shatters inside of you, toes curling, white hot pleasure exploding from your core, rippling through your whole body like the aftershocks of an earthquake. With your pussy spasming around his cock, your body taut and locked with pleasure, Kuroo hurtles off that cliff right alongside you, a strangled noise somewhere between a moan and a growl escaping him as he pumps your cunt full of his seed, all but collapsing atop of you afterwards.

It takes a minute before he peels himself off of you; pushing himself up, braced on elbow so that he’s not crushing you entirely, Kuroo waits, buried inside your warmth, for you to stop trembling with the after effects of your orgasm, for his cock to soften and both of your breathing to even out. 

Waits for those glazed over eyes to focus back on him and once again fill with tears, stroking a hand through your sweat-dampened hair as he does so.

“You should go take a shower before Shin gets home,” he says after a minute or two, his voice a low purr. “He can’t be far off.”

But aside from rolling off you to allow you up, Kuroo makes no moves to follow you, or so much as get up off the bed. Naked, his cock soft and glistening with your juices, one knee propped up, he watches you stumble like a newborn foal into the bathroom (only half managing to close the door behind you) with damn near predatory intent, a smirk teasing at his lips.

It’s where Shin finds you a short while later, curled up on the floor of the shower, shaking through silent sobs. 

—

Shin doesn’t let go of your hand the entire trip home.

Uncharacteristically sober, he says little aside from the occasional murmur to check in with you – always unanswered – and keeps you tucked close, as though a fraction of distance between you might pry you from his side entirely. 

The hours pass in a haze of… nothing. Your tears dry. Numbness takes over. You move like a robot, Shin guiding you every step of the way until you cross the threshold of your apartment.

He never asks what happened. You suppose the smell of sex in his bedroom and the bruises and love bites scattered over your body tell the tale well enough. Shinnosuke’s never been stupid. He’s not dense. 

He’s not heartless, either.

In the sanctity of your tiny, shitty bathroom, you shower again. A proper shower this time, with the water turned up full blast, scrubbing viciously at your skin– or at least, you do until he steps in and takes over. You’ve never thought of your boyfriend as particularly gentle, but he pries the loofah from your hand with a delicacy you didn’t know him capable of and takes care of you, cleaning you up with a tenderness that borders on reverence.

You pretend not to notice how his eyes (so like his, sharp and hazel) narrow into a scowl every time he spots another bruise, another mark left by his father. Once or twice his fingers begin to ghost over them, burgundy fingerprints on your thigh, a love bite sucked into the delicate skin above your collarbone, only to catch himself, swallowing tightly and resuming his task like he’d never faltered in the first place. 

When you’re done, he dries you both off and helps you into fresh clothes – a pair of comfy sweatpants and an old hoodie of his and guides you back to the living room, setting you down into his lap on the couch.

“I–” his voice is hoarse. Quiet, especially in the stillness of the apartment, and when you glance his way, he awkwardly clears his throat and takes a deep breath. “I went to the pharmacy. I thought– I thought…” he trails off again, dropping his gaze. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”

Your heart twists, and it’s your turn to comfort him. Or maybe you’re comforting each other, shifting slightly in his lap so that you can wrap your arms around him and draw him in close, burying your face in the crook of his neck and breathing in the fresh, clean scent of him. “No. I– it wasn’t…” but the words don’t come. You flounder. 

What are you supposed to say? It wasn’t his fault? Wasn’t yours?

You should’ve said something earlier? Should’ve fought back harder – against both of them, should’ve grown a spine?

A beat passes in the tense, thick silence, and when it becomes clear that you’ve got nothing for him, he makes an odd sort of huff that sounds almost irritated. You frown a little, but you don’t fight it when his arms pull tighter around you, when his cheek comes to a rest against your hair and his hands seek yours, curling around your wrists and stroking at the skin there. 

“We’ll get through this,” he vows. “I love you, this doesn’t change anything. It won’t change anything.” His lips meet the crown of your head in a soft kiss. “You’re mine. You’ll always be mine.”

[twst-darling]

˗ˏˋSomewhere in the Sands of Timeˎˊ˗

Pairing: (General) Lilia Vanrouge x Fem!Reader [or Fem!OC]

Summary: The spell to send you home backfires, and you land the past where you encounter one General Vanrouge.

CW: Smut [porn with very little plot, vaginal fingering, blow jobs/skull fucking, facials, degradation, snowballing, hate fucking?, spit, rough sex, use of words like whore, slight dub-con (but the reader is into it)], Language, Violence [threats of violence, threats of murder], 1st Person Point of View, Fem!Reader, AFAB!Reader, Tall!Lilia

Word Count: 1.3k

A/N: I initially wrote this with my OC in mind. However, it is vague enough that it can be read as a reader insert. Song title is taken from Kryptonite by 3 Doors Down

Having a sword held against my throat wasn’t on my bingo card for ‘Strange Happenings in Twisted Wonderland.’ Then again, neither was a very tall, very angry Lilia Vanrouge. His hair cascaded down his back like an inky black waterfall. Rage simmered beneath his vermilion irises—a bizarre sight, given how friendly they usually were—and I knew without a shadow of a doubt that he would behead me, given the opportunity.

This Lilia is not my Lilia. Not yet, anyway.

This Lilia has fire in his blood and brimstone for bones. I can feel his heat radiating through the tough leather armor that covers his body. He bares his fangs, crimson eyes sharp and unyielding. Long gone is the cute upperclassman I’d come to know. 

The whole thing is rather fuzzy. One second, I was walking through a portal that was supposed to take me home. The next? I’m sprawled on the ground with a gleaming blade made of gemstones and magic thrust against my jugular. 

I can barely breathe with how Lilia’s knees dig into my ribs. It’s intentional. And though I know I shouldn’t waste my breath, I can’t help but whimper. My hands lay unbound by my head, but I dare not move them. Not even an inch.

“Your boldness is admirable, yet foolish, mortal scum. Sneaking into fae territory shall wreak nothing but the most exquisite suffering.”

“I-I didn't—”

Lilia presses forward, practically crushing my lungs. “I didn’t say you could speak.”

The edge of his sword—cleaver?—cuts into my neck, and I yelp. “Lilia, please don’t do this, we’re friends!” 

“Lies!” he hisses. “You cannot sway my mind, mortal, with your feeble magic. I hold no familiarity for you, nor shall I ever.” His lip curls, nose wrinkling as if smelling something foul. “I will take great pleasure in crushing the bones in your body until they are dust to be scattered by the wind. It seems only fitting for a human spy who has made it so far behind our barricade.” 

Oh, Sevens, he was serious. 

“Wait, wait, wait, please—!”

“Begging won’t save your life, worm.”

“Let me explain—”

“You tiresome, incompetent creature, I demand you cease this incessant—”

“—I’m from the future!”

It shouldn’t have worked, but my frantic cry made him hesitate. Maybe it was my clothes—the uniform skirt I had sewn looked out of place compared to Lilia’s armor—or my hair. Or maybe, just maybe, Lilia sensed something was off about my arrival the whole time. 

My knowledge of Lilia's time as General in Meleanor's army was limited, a vague impression left from a magic induced coma. But it was nearly impossible to deny the facts as they were shoved right in my face. (Err, against my neck?)

Somehow, Crowley's spell had backfired and not taken me back home to my dimension, but into the past.

Lilia braced his arm next to my head, his long hair forming a curtain around our faces. His nose is inches from mine, but I feel no comfort in the proximity. “Talk. Before I grow tired and find something else to occupy that mouth.”

Lilia’s thick cock rams down my throat mercilessly. I grip his thighs, allowing the fae to use my mouth as he pleases. From above, he grunted, baring his sharp teeth like a predator snarling. Globs of spit and drool dribbled past my lips and down my chin, splashing to the dirt below. The thick leather straps of his armor gave away to my nails as I dug them deep, allowing Lilia to use me as he pleased. My throat burned from the harsh, stuttering movements of his hips. He fucked my face so hard it was murderous as if he were trying to make up for not beheading me before.

Yet another stamp on that infernal bingo card—but I can’t say I hate this one.

I would have been incredibly embarrassed at my gagging noises if the burning between my legs had not taken precedence. My eyes roll back, briefly catching a glimpse of the General’s ecstasy-clouded expression. His pink lips parted in a silent gasp, gaze raised to the heavens. 

Abruptly, Lilia pulls out and begins fisting his cock. His movements are furious as he hunches over. “I’m going to smear that filthy human expression with my seed—paint you white, since I can't paint you red. Maybe I'll leave you like that, so your brethren can see your betrayal written across that pretty little face. Mmm, just like this.” 

I close my eyes just in time for thick, hot spurts of Lilia’s cum sprayed over my face. My knees trembled, and I stifled a moan between my teeth and tongue.

Lilia wasn’t done.

He pushes me, and I fall into the mossy underbrush. Lilia takes my knees and peels them apart, staring at the feeble scrap of cloth, preserving what little dignity I have left. I’m trembling again, fixated on the sheer size of Lilia’s hand as it practically swallows my thigh in his massive grip. 

“How pathetic,” he coos. Lilia drags one finger down my thigh, ghosting the hemline of my panties. “You’re drenched.” He touches the mound of my pelvis before hooking his index finger around the gusset and prying it aside. “Never have I seen a human so eager. The rest of your race would be dumbfounded to know their kinsmen loved choking on faerie cock.”

I bite my lip, a blush burning my cheeks. The cold forest air kissed my exposed skin, but I felt none of it. Only the intense searing sensation of General Vanrouge’s stare, his slitted pupils sharp like knives. His digits danced across my lips, collecting slick, teasing my poor throbbing core. 

“Ah, but you said we would be friends in this future. Pupils.” Lilia snickers, brushing against my clit. “Perhaps it’s not so strange after all. Perhaps you let me have my way with you as much as I’d like—like the sweet, foolish girl you are.”

Lilia crawled up my body, reminiscent of the one he’d had me at not so long ago. Only, this time, I didn’t need a sword to my neck to keep me in place. Lilia sunk two fingers knuckle-deep inside my pussy, abating that hollow feeling inside. 

“General,” I moan.

He chuckles again and licks a broad stripe across my cheek. He surges forward, curling his fingers at the same instant our lips meet. My mouth opens, but Lilia swallows the cry. He snaked his tongue into my mouth, pushing a copious amount of his cum for me to taste. It passes between us until I swallow it, painfully aware of every second it seeps down my insides. He pulls away too soon, but not before spitting on me for good measure. It lands in my mouth, still agape and from panting. 

“Such a cute, little faerie whore. It’s almost endearing.” Lilia spreads the fingers he’s buried inside my cunt, and it’s magnificent. He’s so deep, his slender digits pressing into spots I could never dream of touching. “I ought to fuck you open, now. That’s what you want, isn’t it, pretty one? I can only imagine how this hot little hole of yours will squeeze me.” Lilia slips his fingers from my cunt, only to deliver a sharp smack to my clit. “If there’s one thing that comes from your hellish future, I’m glad to know I shall have a tight cunt to warm me, even if it is a human’s.”

I could correct him. I probably should. But the instant his swollen cockhead breaches my pussy, all coherent thought dissipates into a lusty puff of smoke.

I'll never be able to look Lilia in the eye again if I ever get back.

[worldruins]

This image really captures who Teeth is as a person. Uh. It’s bad

[christinarowie332]

god i love you

chris sturniolo x reader

matt sturniolo x oc

sturniolo triplets x reader

warnings : smutty smut !!! mentions of weed and nicotine, 18+ . profanity

———

reader , maggie, and the triplets have a beach day

———-

i dig my feet deeper in the sand , feeling the warmth hug my body and the soft grains scratch my bare skin. with my fingers sprawled out over the blanket i throw my head back in comfort , feeling the warm sun kiss my face as i lean back .

the sounds of a faint mac miller song humming in the background flood my ears .waves crashing to the shore , painting the sand white with its foam . i can hear chris giggling with matt and nick desperately trying to explain himself with whatever waffle he’s spewing at this moment. mags , my bestfriend, matt’s girlfriend, just sat playing with his hair laughing with them.

in my own world , i open my eyes finally, take a puff of my vape and grab my phone from my lap . opening the camera app and snapping a photo of the scene infront of me . a clear blue sky , my four best friends, boyfriend included , all laughing , their hair being plastered across their face ; brunette and blonde waving along with the wind .

i subconsciously decide to get up and immediately strip out of my oversized t-shirt i stole from chris . a black two peice caressing my curves and hugging my waist .

“chris” i call out to him throwing the t-shirt on the blanket we all sit on , large volcanic rocks holding down the corners . ”can i have my bobble babe?”

“uh yeah of course” he says after trailing his eyes down my body , before going into his joint tin and grabbing the bobble .he keeps it for me along with two joints , a lighter , a chewing gum and a polaroid of us together in matching fresh love , laughing while we jokingly do the doggy style position . his favorite photo for obvious reasons .

maggie gets where i’m going with this and mirrors my actions from before , stripping off and putting her hair in a clip , kicking her slides off and throwing her vape and phone down on the blanket .

“woah what’s happening ? i feel like i’m about to get a lap dance or some shit” nick exclaims , fake fear plastered on his face and also getting up .

“we have been at the beach for like an hour and haven’t gone in the sea ? let’s go.” i explain , chris is on his feet taking his shirt off in what feels like a millisecond. matt follows and helps nick up .

“last one in has to buy the bud next !!!” maggie screams before darting off towards the sea , me in tow and chris and matt speeding past us .

“NOT FAIR BRO” nick screams as he starts running throwing his shirt over his head while running and trying to kick off his slides while in motion .

we all run towards the sea , chris ends up falling over face first into the soft sand . i subconsciously stop and help him up , watching him lift his face up , showing his mouth full of sand and eyes closed , mouth agape laughing in shock . i loudly laugh and grab his hand pulling him up running towards the sea again . we run hand in hand still laughing , as we watch nick pass us and matt and maggie absolutely get obliterated by a wave as the meet the sea . nick makes it next and finally stops and sees his brother , covered it sand , struggling to run while laughing and spitting out sand .

me and chris make it to the sea ,both of us mermaid style diving into the sea as soon as we thought it was deep enough .

i plunge into the water , feeling bubbles trail my face and make their way to the surface, before the head reaches the warm air , hair slicked back and salty water running down my neck .

“HOW THE FUCK DID U FALL SO BADLY”

“YOU LITERALLY ATE SAND CHRIS!”

“BAHAHAHA BRO ITS ON YOUR TEETH”

we all take a second to laugh at chris and he just wipes the sand and salt from his eyes while laughing , his shoulders jumping up and down with the movement.

chris swims over to me and hugs me from behind putting his head on my shoulder . we’re not a very affectionate cutesy couple , a specially infront of his brothers , and maggie who is basically my sister . this is very evident when i turn around in chris’s hold smiling . he melted as i put both my arms around his shoulders, interlining my fingers around his neck .

“breathe” i said smiling at him. resulting in his face dropping and confusion being painted on his face . he does as i say anyway tilting his head , before i put both my hands on his shoulders and push him under the water .

i start laughing but quickly get cut off as i feel his hands grip my legs and i am also pulled under the water . we fight under the current of the waves . i emerge from the water first , and watch chris gasp for air as he surfaces. we all laugh and start relaxing in the water .

“i wonder why the beach is so empty today?” matt asks , looking at said beach , maggie narrows her eyes to where her boyfriend is looking before speaking

“probably sharks or something” she says nonchalantly, before furrowing her eyebrows and realizing that’s not so much of a reach .

“your just gonna scare yourself mags” nick says through giggles , looking at the girl slowly move towards matt for safety .

“nah everyone’s at work and school , we have no life bro we’re the only weirdos that don’t have a job” i say before angling my head back in the water , slicking my hair back again , feeling the cold water make its way onto my forehead .

“nah we have a job , just not a boring one . content creators bro . we get paid to hangout” chris says before moving his hand around my waist under the water , pulling us closer . i smile and him and put one of my hands on the back of his neck , playing with his now wet hair .

“i wonder how deep it is here” nick says , looking down into the dark swirling water , squinting his eyes , before meeting mine and raising his eyebrows , knowing i would be the only one to go to the bottom and see .

i took a breath and used chris’s body to lower myself into the water slowly, coming back up and diving down . i squint my eyes underwater and reach the floor , not too deep , watching the clean sand rippling under our feet

while swimming back up i see a blurred chris , and decide to scare the shit out of him and smack his ass under the water , i see him jump slightly, but he finds me and drags me up by my neck gently until moving his hands to my waist and bringing me to surface . i giggle under water , bubbles following my trail upwards before meeting them all and laughing before moving to chris’s back and holding his shoulders to hold me up .

“fully thought that was a fish for a good second” chris says looking back at me to meet my goofy smile .

“how do u open your eyes in the sea bro , my eyes sting just being here” matt days to me while rubbing his eye like a child , fist curled rubbing over his eye in circles.

“i literally feel like i just pored pure salt in my eye , that was a big mistake” i say laughing , rubbing my eyes like matt just was .

maggie lies down on top of the water , matt holds her and runs his hand through her hair .

we stay like that for a while . chris and i giving each other small affectionate touches , laughing and talking with nick. matt and maggie in their own little world .

“dude , do u know when u were younger did u ever like , when u were like seven like i used to like ….. no probably older then that just like i thought i was like really good at swimming and i was like kinda okay but like really i was…..” chris explains , making the entire group stare at him in confusion, before looking at each other , trying to see if anyone understands a word he’s saying .

“like i was pretty really okay but like when i would swim i like was good ….. WOW”

we all erupted into laughter at chris , him immediately getting embarrassed but also laughing, pulling me closer again and placing a small kiss to my forehead ,turning me around to hug me from behind .

“i’m gonna go back i’m freezing and i want my vape” maggie says before doggy paddling away , causing me and chris to giggle

“i’ll come too” matt says grabbing onto her legs and pulling him closer to her

“me too , i feel like i’m gonna get a cold this water is fucking freezing” nick says following behind matt and maggie , leaving me and chris in the water .

“i’m staying , i wanna chill in here longer” chris says looking towards me and smiling

i hum in agreement and swim towards him , wrapping my legs around his waist and putting my arms around his neck .

“hi” he says smiling leaning towards me .

his lips meet mine , the taste of salt lingering in my mouth as i kiss him , the cut on my lip stings but i barely feel it , relishing in chris’s hand moving up and down my thigh .

i pull away “hi” i say before placing another peck on his lips quickly. i put my palm flat on his back to stabilise myself while i run my hand through his hair , pushing his dark curls away from his face .

i put both my hands on the back of his neck and pull him towards me , attaching my lips onto his once again , one of his hands moves to my ass , lifting and squeezing it in one motion , causing me to gasp slightly and open my lips giving his tongue access to mine.

i move my hips on his , causing him to moan slightly into the kiss . i could feel him growing , my core pressed against his , grinding against him .

“chris” i moaned out , digging my painted nails into his back , clawing his shoulders leaving red lines over his muscles.

he grabbed my hand and put my palm over his hardened dick , looking into my eyes saying exactly what i needed to hear .

he pulled his shorts down , then pulled my bikini bottoms down , raising his eyebrows to get my consent he needed .

a nod of my head is all he needed , before lifting me onto him , throwing his head back in pleasure. my face burrows into his neck biting down at the feeling of him inside , leaving a mark where my mouth had been.

we moved together under water , him lifting me , me rolling my hips to the pattern i knew he liked after lots of practice over the year , moaning each other names through sloppy kisses .

after a couple of minutes we both can feel the knot slowly unraveling , thrusts getting sloppy and messy .

“y/n” he whimpered out before getting cut off by me loudly moaning into his neck

“i know chris , me too” i said before clenching around him and moaning loudly against his skin , throwing my head back in pleasure before feeling him release into me .

we both laugh and kiss each other messily , coming down from our high together .

“god i love you y/n” chris says out of breath into my neck as we both embrace each other , him still inside of me under the salty waves .

“i love you too chris” is all i got out before re-attaching our lips in a perfectly paced kiss .

———

milkie talks :

i have had a awful amount of alcohol so i don’t even know if this makes sense .

love u all . 🍼🤍

tag list :

@mangosrar @sturnphilia @soursturniolo @biimpanicking @sssturniolofart @littlebookworm803 @lividnity @deatthmatch @daddyslilchickenfingers @parkerssecrets @urmyslxt

[luimagines]

Rotten in Chains

Another Commission!

They asked for their OC named Ink who comes from a Hyrule that was conquered by Dark Link and left to rot. Hence the Title. :D

It's a short little ditty, but I hope you all enjoy it.

Masterlist

Ink was disoriented. 

He had been running; sprinting like the Devil King himself was on his heels. There was chaos and death all around him. The beasts had all but taken over the region near Lake Hylia. The air was acrid and stale. The stench of rot and death was a permanent fixture. He hardly noticed the difference anymore. The corruption had encompassed the entire inhabited earth. There was nothing worth saving anymore. Except if you counted for those that were powerlessly enduring the passage of time and through the skin of their teeth alone, had carved out a way of life amongst the madness. 

He had taken a wrong turn and came face to face with one of the creatures of the fallen. Unknown beasts born from the decay that had taken root in the soil of Hyrule.

He had turned to the shadows, hoping to lose the creature in the mist before turning around and striking with an ambush to the back of its head.

No such luck.

The ground beneath his feet vanished. His heart and stomach had all but leaped into his throat before he landed. His vision went white. It was painful. The brightness itself had nearly been enough to knock him off of his feet. At once, he felt blinded. Falling to his knees, his hands covered his face to shield the onslaught of light that penetrated the back of his skull.

Ink tried to breathe.

Once wasn’t enough. His body inhaled as if he had been a drowning man beneath the seas. He took his breath with such force that he started choking on his spit in the aftermath.

This was bad. Whatever it was about his new predicament was about to incapacitate him.

Strange still, nothing had come to attack him.

It took a while, but eventually, his eyes had adjusted to his new surroundings.

Blue.

He had only ever seen the color in the eyes of his people. It was bright and clean and all above him. To his immediate surroundings was an astonishing amount of green. He had never seen so much green in one place before. The only thing he could think of to make sense of what he was seeing was that he was in a forest, an old, borderline mythical region that he longed to see with his own eyes.

His lungs had calmed and he was able to get a better sense of what it was he was smelling to begin with.

Soil…. Not just wasted away dirt or sand, but soil. Good, clean, healthy soil.

Ink felt woozy.

The land seemed untouched by the rot. The corruption he had grown so accustomed to seeing was nowhere to be found.

He runs his hand through the greenery below him. Grass, was it? He couldn’t even recall the name, nor the last time he had seen such a plant.

Suddenly, there were voices. Many of them. Most, if not all, were male from what he could tell. They had to have come from a distant land. Each from varying regions, at least. Their accents and dialects were as foreign to him as the blue sky above his head. 

Travelers? He thought as his grip tightened on his sword. He stood with a frown. Very few people traveled anymore, except for the relief bringers and himself. It was too dangerous to do so in his home.

Unwilling to let himself be caught with his pants down, he forces himself to his feet and dones his sword. Turning to the sound of the voices, he hunkers down and listens.

“I just wish that he knew where we were. That’s all. I don’t think that an unfair thing to complain about.” One of them says.

“It would be if you hadn’t been at it for the past three hours, Legend.” Says another.

A different voice speaks up next. “Well, Twilight, it wouldn’t have to be if you would let me go check out the area. I’m a good scout, you know.”

“Thank you, Wild, but last time you did that, you came back on the back of a bear.” Legend replied. “No thank you.”

“Look!” Shouted a young boy. “There’s someone over there!”

Startled, Ink turned on his heel to see three other people approach from the opposite direction. He had miscalculated. Another group of three approached him from the front while the sides were covered. An ambush? He didn’t know but he wasn’t about to let himself be surrounded.

A well-groomed man with a long blue scarf put his hands up to placate him. “Easy, soldier. We’re all friends here. Maybe you could give us some directions. We’re looking for a friend of ours.”

He’s not sure why but the way he says is suspicious. However, that’s not inherently enough evidence to act on his half-baked suspicions. He lowers his sword and raises an eyebrow, “A friend? I haven’t seen anyone today.”

They all frowned at him at once. His own accent had given him away as well, he supposed.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” The eldest spoke up. Funny. People were considered lucky if they grew to be his age, if at all.

“Who are you looking for?” Ink asked instead, willing to change the subject.

“He’s going to be dressed in all black and he has red eyes.” A man dressed in furs crosses his arms over his chest. “Hard to miss if you ask me.”

Ink’s eyes hardened at once. That sounded familiar and not in a good way. “A shadow?”

“...Yes.” The shortest one replies, mimicking the stance of the one dressed in furs. “You could call him that, sure.”

Ink looked around the group once more. Their clothing was awfully familiar now that he thought about it. “...Is his name Dark Link?”

“You know of him?” The one with a white cape said.

Taking a deep breath, Ink fought back a growl as it tore through his throat. “I’m after his head.”

[emilykaldwen]

High in the Halls

Ship: Aegon II Targaryen x Abrogail Strong (OC) Written for the @hotd-bigbang

Rating: Mature

Summary: Aegon Targaryen, the last true Valyrian Warlord, rattles at the machinations of his mother who tries to play Andal politics when he wants nothing more than to be left alone. A chance meeting of a maiden in distress in the Riverlands changes everything.

AKA the Old Valyria AU!

Notes: This is chapter one! Of what will probably be two chapters? I just didn't have the time to finish this, I'm so sorry.

Art by: @the-common-cowgirl / Beta: @vampire-exgirlfriend

Read on AO3

Author's Note: It's the old Valyria AU I've been hinting at for ages! It was a rough summer y'all, and this thing got finished while I was dying from Bronchitis (but before I got Covid) so I wasn't able to finish it. But this is absolutely a universe I want to have fun in and play with from time to time. I hope you enjoy it with me!

Sunfyre’s scream pierced the air, sending seagulls frantically fleeing from the battlements of Dragonstone, crying out as they took to the sky in an explosion of gray and white. The deep pink frills along the back of the dragon’s neck stood high, his head rearing back, snout vivid and wet with the blood of the sea beast he had dragged ashore for him and little Dreamfyre to feast on. His little sister’s dragon was twice the size of a horse, and the dead beast was at least two of her. The pair of them crouched around the great beast on the black sand beach, the waves crashing and little flits of multi-colored light caught in the air every time they broke against the rock of the harsh inlet.

Syrax hissed in response, her head rearing back in offense at being denied, but she eventually turned away, for Sunfyre was twice her size, and the smaller dragon was no match.

Aegon’s half-sister, on the other hand…

“Where is father?”

Aegon tilted his head, looking over his shoulder to where Rhaenyra, stood in the archway that led down to the stables. Her long, silver hair was tied back in a thick braid that fell to her waist, woven with charms that tinkled when she turned her head. The harshness of the style made her look more like Lord Viserys than her own mother, Lady Aemma, whose features were soft like his own mother.

He stayed silent, dragging his thumbnail along the near imperceptible groove of the stonework he leaned against. Did she think he was a servant? Did she think they were as close as their sire liked to pretend they were?

She arched her brows when he didn’t answer, her black boot tapping on the black stone. Before Aegon could open his mouth, there was movement behind Rhaenyra, heavily accented Valyrian answering for him.

“Helaena had another dream last night.” Lady Alicent met Rhaenyra’s eyes as she approached, silent maidens swathed in red following her. She was father’s second wife, taken in marriage when Lady Aemma could bear no more children. Even after all these years, she wore her long green gowns in the style of the continent: square necked and deep sleeved, a heavy, gold chain looped about her waist, her auburn curls held back a net of onyx and emeralds. Next to Rhaenyra in her dark gray riding leathers chased with crimson, Aegon thought his mother looked like a queen.

Rhaenyra ran her tongue over her teeth behind her lips, nodding curtly, and spun away with a swing of her long hair and vanished into the stronghold, vengeful and beautiful in the low light. Helaena’s dreams had changed fate for their family and Aegon did not know if it were better or worse. Some days, in the black of night, he wished he had gone down with the rest of their people in ash and flame. Others, he relished the freedom from politics that had plagued his earliest years. The fearful whispers of assassins, the way Uncle Daemon raged that they did not need to taint their blood to gain the Hightower gold—these things haunted him.

Mother pursed her lips, watching Lady Rhaenyra leave before her large, dark eyes met his.

“You cannot hide from me forever,” she told him in the common tongue. Aegon scoffed and looked back out at the rocky outcropping below where Sunfyre and Dreamfyre continued to devour the salt beast. He didn’t move as she approached, startling only a little when her hand combed through his shoulder length curls. “We must talk about this.”

“Must we?” he snipped, refusing to look at his mother. He kicked the toe of his boot against the stone and resisted crossing his arms to rest his head against them like a petulant child. Aegon was, in fact, acting a little like a petulant child, but he’d grown exhausted of the conversation that had circled for the past three years. “Go speak with Aemond about it. He’ll be more than glad to cross blades with Daemon and Rhaenyra- ow!”

His mother pinched and pulled at his ear to pull his face towards her and Aegon jerked from her grasp instinctively. Alicent Hightower’s lovely features were severe, delicate brows furrowed, pouty mouth pressed into a firm line.

“You are Viserys’ eldest son.”

“And Valyrian law dictates that Daemon inherits as his dragon is older-”

“Valyria is gone,” Alicent spat, her voice grating like the screech of kitlings or claws against stone. “If by chance you’d forgotten in your cups of strongwine, foolish boy. Valyria is gone, to fire and ash these past three years. Their laws of inheritance do not matter. The custom here, Aegon, is that of the eldest son. Sons before sisters, and all before uncles.”

“Then disown me,” Aegon snapped, pulling from his mother’s grasp before she could claw at him further. “Aemond will become your eldest and he shall eagerly fight with Helaena at his side. She could present it as a vision: Aemond inheriting Dragonstone with their children to carry his legacy on.” He clapped his hands together, smiling, although the gesture held no true joy. His smiles rarely did.

Aemond would relish at the opportunity to prove himself, to be more than what his position allowed him. Ever since their first son, Maelor, had been born, his younger brother had strutted about, speaking of his virility, dangling his son, and then soon after, their daughter, Daenys, in front of their father who so loved his grandchildren. Filling the hole that Rhaenyra left when her new family moved out of the fortress to the island of Driftmark, Viserys had indulged his grandchildren and Helaena was expecting her third soon.

The space between them grew as his mother drew back, her mouth pinched so tight that her lips had gone pale. Aegon loathed the way her gaze scraped at his insides and he resisted wrapping his arms around himself protectively, instead focusing on maintaining his languid, distant posture. To show weakness within the obsidian halls of Dragonstone was to be a death sentence. His mother was not of Old Valyria, but of these strange shores that he was more familiar with than the Freehold. She chafed at the ‘strange customs’, sick at the prospect of her children intermarrying with one another to keep their Valyrian blood pure. She misliked his lack of ambition, or how he preferred to spend his time in the brothel in the little fishing village while Lord Viserys lamented not being able to introduce him to the Ruby Palace and the most divine pleasure slaves the Freehold could have offered.

Lady Aemma misliked his father speaking so, although she was better at hiding her frustrations with her tender, tired smiles. His mother also did not care for the time Aegon spent in Lady Aemma’s solar, where they indulged in honey cakes together and she expected nothing from him, letting him lay his head in her lap while she combed her fingers through his hair when his mother’s anxieties turned her vicious.

If his own mother despised so much of him, then why was she so insistent to have him named heir?

“Aegon.”

He could not bear the anguish in his mother’s voice or on her soft features; the way it coalesced with the frustration like how the blood from the carcass on the beach turned the foaming ocean surf as pink as Sunfyre’s wings. Her shoulders that had bowed in on herself straightened, her breathing evening, and her delicate hands smoothed along the richness of her gown. “We will not indulge in such foolish things,” she said with an abrupt shake of her head. “You will be married at the end of the season.”

It felt like she’d punched him in the throat, the air rushing from him like a wheezing carcass. “I have no sisters to marry,” he rasped out, the blood rushing in his ears. Sunfyre’s call from below was a questioning one, and he saw his dragon lift his bloody face to peer up at him.

“One of the River Kings has need of a son in law,” she explained. “He is well known to our family, with only a daughter and the other river kings are circling. In exchange for you to protect his holding and claim his title upon his death, he will ensure that his armies are yours when the time comes.” She sniffed, twisting the ring on her right hand. “Which will be sooner, I think, than we all expect.”

Well known to their family? The Hightowers. The power that family held was ancient and worthy enough of Valyria, their origins a tightly guarded secret, but his father had said the Hightower blood was a special thing, and how lucky he’d been to snap up the daughter of so much power.

Aegon felt strangled and overheated, a pain coursing through his jaw as he clenched his teeth. “Does he know?” There was something guttural and full of warning running through Aegon’s words, and it vibrated through him. For a moment, he thought he tasted salt and metal, satiating and repugnant along his tongue, and he spat on the ground to rid himself of the taste of his dragon’s kill.

She sniffed again. “He has allowed me freedom to do with my other two children as I please, and Daeron is eager to become a Maester and not claim a dragon for himself. He will serve you well when his education is completed.”

Something cool and wet slapped against Aegon’s cheek and he blinked, tilting his head up as a fine rain began to fall. His mother hurried back inside, arms wrapped around herself, but Aegon ignored her insistent call to follow him. He stood there letting the rain hit his too hot, too tight skin, wondering if it would sizzle the way it sizzled against the dragons. A fine hiss of steam had surrounded Sunfyre as he continued to eat, Dreamfyre tucked beneath his wing, protecting her in the ways that Aegon was unable to protect Helaena himself.

Of course Daeron didn’t want a dragon. He knew nothing else but what he learned of on the ground.

“You’d barter me to some little king for the power of my dragon!” Aegon shouted, his voice heavy with rage, an anger that he’d rarely let loose coming to the forefront like the storm surge. The heat in his throat was a dragon’s flame - he’d spit fire if he could.

Rage was Aemond’s domain, was Rhaenyra’s, was Daemon’s. But Aegon was just as fearsome when he chose to be.

“Aegon-”

“You had no right!” His hands ached for something to throw, to bend and break and shoving over the brazier on his way inside would have to suffice. The coals hissed and bounced along the stone, the metal clanging loudly along the ground. Mother jerked away at the sound like something skittish, a doe perhaps, or a mourning dove, dark eyes wide at the display. Perhaps she did have reasons to mislike him. “You had no fucking right. Daeron, you can barter around, but I, in case you’ve forgotten, am a Warlord. My mount is not some overgrown horse, but fire incarnate, and should I ever so choose, I could turn your precious Oldtown to ash, and the rest of this land if the whim took me.” His nostrils flared as he breathed, wishing he could snag his mother and shake her until sense rattled in her head once more.

But she misliked him enough that he didn’t, the notion settling like a stone in his gut as he skirted her and followed the ghost of his elder sister. Mother shouted his name, but he ignored her, striding down the dim corridors that snaked through the fortress. Torchlight illuminated the slick walls and made the obsidian shine like some living, slimy thing.

Trilling, melodious and haunting, echoed down the corridor, but Aegon could hear the shifting in Sunfyre’s tone. ‘Bite? Attack?’ the sound seemed to question. The Dragonkeepers along the dock gripped their pikes, shouting for Sunfyre to settle, to calm, but the golden dragon would have none of it. He called, concerned, and it grated and echoed along the cave that housed the stable, boiling saliva and blood dripping from his maw and onto the black stone. Another cry shook dust from stone as Sunfyre made as if he were to scramble his bulk up onto the dock. The Dragonkeepers shouted once more, Keeper Arrax looking at him imploringly.

Aegon met his gaze briefly before approaching, tugging his riding gloves on from his pockets. “Lykirī!” he called up to him, but there was little command in the words. Sunfyre rumbled low in his throat, eyes flicking above Aegon and past him for whomever had caused such upset within his rider. It was only as Aegon lifted a hand to his bloody maw to scratch gently along his nostril, did Sunfyre relax, albeit with extreme annoyance at not having anything to attack.

The dragon snorted and settled, lowering himself enough that Aegon could make his way up the curve of his wing to the saddle. There were no words exchanged. None were needed. Him and Sunfyre were as one; the envy of the last Dragonlords.

The further west Aegon flew, the lighter the clouds became. There was something deeper within that, he was sure, and he could only imagine what poetic waxings his father would engage in had Aegon asked. Aemond would huff and let out the most annoyed of sighs and simply say, ‘Clouds move, you nitwit,’ and whatever obscure and esoteric insults from the books in their father’s library.

The breaking of the clouds revealed the lush green of what his mother’s people called the Riverlands. He’d flown over Crackclaw point and up the river that flowed into the Bay of Crabs, the great mountains of the Vale majestic and snow capped in the distance. The rolling green hills and dense forests were cut through with snaking slashes of blue and marked with weirwoods like drops of blood unfolded beneath him, a tapestry of a world he did not understand. His memories of the Freehold were fuzzy. The villa they’d lived in had been large, and he remembered the palanquin draped in the blacks and reds of their house as he made his way to the Dragonmont to claim Sunfyre. And then Helaena’s dreams had entranced their father and here they came.

Dragonstone was more home than Valyria had ever been, but even so, the obsidian fortress in the shadow of the mountain felt like a cage.

Out here above the Riverlands, Aegon breathed in the crisp air, the scent of the storm they’d passed through untainted by the smell of sulfur and salt that permeated the air of his home. These creatures of mud and root were meant to be subjugated. They were unworthy of the gift of flight, Aegon’s blood was a pure, magical thing, not something to be bartered to such a thing.

But his mother was of these people, and he loved his mother. Her blood flowed through him. She was just as fierce as his sister even if she lacked wings. His Uncle Daemon sneered and called him and his siblings half-breeds, shocked that they were able to claim dragons as they did.

Aegon shook his head, damp hair stuck across his forehead, and urged Sunfyre lower to better make out the land before him. Here, he could see the frightened sheep moving in a great herd as the shadow of the winged predator loomed over them. Sunfyre rumbled his desire and he tugged on the reins.

“You’ve had your fill,” he reminded the dragon, and the beast grumbled his annoyance. They swooped lower now, so Aegon could make out the details of the sheep and their startled herders, and hear the distant barking of the herding dogs that accompanied them. Aegon turned south, crossing over the Trident and soon they came upon Castle Derry nestled in the hills. His brow furrowed and he circled about it curiously. Was this where his bride resided? On the shores of the Ruby Ford?

Aegon flew further out still, towards the lush wood, settling his dragon down by a grove of bone white weirwoods, their crimson stained faces bearing witness to his sulking and self-pity. The forest floor was damp and gave beneath his boots as he approached the heart tree. The smell of petrichor clung in the air from the storms that had passed through; the scent of rich earth, of the pine scent of the evergreen trees that hugged the red grove a physical thing.

It was only the red sap that gave the look of bloody tears against the bark. That’s what the maester had said. Helaena, who received dreams from the gods, said they were the tears of those their visions could not help. Even though theirs were Valyrian gods - the fourteen flames that dragons like Syrax and Caraxes and even little Vhagar bore like badges of honor. Aegon had never felt close to the gods of his people, for they were angry beings that threw the Freehold into a melted, smoking husk and destroyed everything that they’d come from. The places in his hazy, childhood memory, the people who had visited, who had bustled in the forum below, were all gone, as were the multitude of dragons that had filled the sky from the other families, not to mention so many along the empire, and the many who had been unclaimed, roosting in the fissures of the volcanos.

Sunfyre rumbled behind him and Aegon waved a hand. “Go on,” he told him, Valyrian words feeling strange to speak in front of the tree. Sunfyre gave him a long look, as if assessing Aegon’s intent before his legs bunched up and he took off with a gust that nearly pushed Aegon from his feet. He ran his fingers through his hair before resting his hand on the pommel of his sword and looking around. Mayhaps he’d go for a swim. Climb a weirwood and fall asleep in the boughs. He could pilfer some clothes and dye his hair and vanish into the mists of the Riverlands, become something new and unseen. He could -

The scream that ripped through the forest was full of terror and anger, the words distant and shrill, but he could just make out the ‘NO!’ through the cacophony. Alarm took over and Aegon’s head whipped around trying to figure out what direction it came from. Another scream for help and he shifted direction, darting through the weirwood grove and bursting into the firs and evergreens of the rest of the forest.

‘Don’t stop screaming,’ he thought to himself, blood pumping in excitement for a fight. A dragonlord’s first weapon was fire and wing. His second was the blade, and Blackfyre hung reassuringly at his side - the gift his father had bestowed upon him on his twenty-second nameday. Next to fucking and drinking, he relished most the clang and scrape of metal against metal.Aemond could roll his eyes at his lack of finesse, but Aegon loved a good fight; blade, teeth, a punch to the face, all were ideal.

He slowed on approach, darting behind the thick trunk of a red oak large enough to seat his whole family for a meal. There were four men just past the trees by the stream, their horses lingering, pawing at the ground, perhaps from Sunfyre’s presence earlier. Three of them wore simple brown tunics and leggings, tabards of black and yellow with a sigil of eerie yellow eyes peering back at him. Aegon knew little of the houses of the area to know which this was. From the finer cut of cloth the fourth man wore, he was their liege. Tall, with dark blonde hair and broad shoulders, the leader of the group was clad in a tunic of black, his tabard half black, half yellow, edged with golden cording.

“Hush now, you’re safe,” he crooned to the hissing, spitting maiden clutched in his arms. She was a slight thing, her kirtle a deep, forest green, the skirt split over a pair of leggings, elegant embroidery visible across her gown. Aegon’s eyes darted around, looking for her horse, but none was to be found. A noble lady from the looks of it, but the oddity of her being alone in the forest was not his priority.

“Let me go!” she snarled, eyes wide and frightened, and she reached up to claw at the man’s face. Her little hand struck true, raking across his handsome features, and he yelled, striking her hard against the face in retaliation and sending her to the ground.

Sunfyre growled low in Aegon’s chest and before the man could reach for her again, he made himself known, unsheathing the Valyrian broadsword idly, clucking his tongue against his teeth.

“Is this how you Westerosi whelps treat your ladies?” he asked, brow furrowed in feigned confusion as his lilac gaze darted from man to man. “I confess, I’ve only been here for a little time, but from what I’ve been taught, there are laws among your people that frown on such things.” A lie of course; he could care less what laws Westeros had, but the woman was distressed, and he was doubtful any of these men owned her. Why he cared about her distress at all was something he would dissect later.

Aegon’s gaze raked over the men before lingering on the maiden still on the ground. The damp of the earth soaked into her skirts, her copper curls a frizz around her soft, tear streaked face. The ring her assailant wore had cut into her mouth, streaks of blood welling up and smeared across her chin. Her eyes met his in that singular moment, so vivid and bright, an endless blue. Aegon forgot to breathe at the sight of that frightened gaze that looked at him so full of terrified hope, his stomach twisting and pulling, wanting to drag him towards her.

How could he deny such a desperate plea? How could he deny her anything when she looked at him like that?

“Be gone with you, stranger,” the leader of this little band sneered, unbothered by the glint of Valyrian steel in the shafts of light that struggled to cut through the trees and clouds above. Aegon’s gaze met his and he smiled, lazy and unbothered. The creak of leather signaled the unsettled movements of his companions.

“Prince Ed,” one of them said, all nervous hesitation that pleased Aegon. “He’s one of them.” Fearful and othering, but he should fear him. Aegon was not some mortal clawed from mud. He was nearly a god himself, and the dragons were of the gods. Sunfyre purred deep in his chest, feeling Aegon’s amusement. He knew the dragon was approaching, and Aegon could buy himself some time and entertainment. Three against one wasn’t terrible odds. He’d been in brawls like that before, but rarely with a blade, and the swordmaster’s cautious words ran in the back of his mind to be cautious of how he picked his fights.

Sunfyre would be there before things got too out of hand.

The prince narrowed his eyes in Aegon’s direction and took in the languid stance and the Valyrian steel blade. There was a flicker of unease on his face before he set his jaw. “Are you sure?” he laughed, shaking his head. “I didn’t think they touched the ground, let alone come down from their mountain, too busy fucking their sisters and fathers and probably their dragons.”

There was a nervous titter of laughter from his group and Aegon joined in, his own manic giggling not quite reaching his eyes. He moved deliberately yet continued his easy stance before he stabbed forward, a flash of polished steel to slide across the arm of this prince of mud. Aegon smiled as they shouted and pulled their blades.

“She’s mine now. Be off with you. I would spare her from witnessing your rolling heads.”

The supposed prince spat at Aegon’s feet, drawing his inferior blade. “A daughter of the Riverlands will not be taken by an inbred Valyrian bastard,” he declared with all the mock chivalry and hot air that he’d been blowing. As if Aegon hadn’t just come upon them attacking the maiden. She’d been backing slowly away as Aegon had held their attention but she froze now as the man’s gaze shot at her. “Marvyn, grab her. I’ll slay this imp abandoned by his beast.”

He was brave. Aegon would give this so-called prince that much. Brave and exceedingly stupid, which often went hand in hand; Aegon would know, having been called such by his mother. The clang of steel against steel rang through the clearing and the shriek of the woman joined them as she lobbed a rock at Marvyn in her attempt to evade their reach. His opponent relied on strength, on the advance and powerful swings, and Aegon knew the type. He ducked low and got behind the oaf, kicking the man in the ass and sending him stumbling forward. With the space cleared, Aegon turned and shoved Blackfyre through the back of Martyn and removed the blade without catching any bone. Blood sprayed against the damp earth as he fell to his knees and Aegon spun the blood streaked blade, eyes on the third who had hold of the maiden’s arm, and back to the prince.

Aegon smiled brightly at him, all teeth and mirth and the feral edge of the dragon beneath his skin. “Shame about Martyn,” he said with a pitying shake of his head. “But at least it’s a first course.”

Above, a great, winged shadow appeared, blotting out the watercolor sun and casting them in momentary dim. The gust of wind from Sunfyre’s wings shook the tree, a few small branches falling to the ground from sudden and turbulent wind.

“Prince Edmund,” the other man’s voice cracked with fear, and his wide, sunken eyes focused upon the forest canopy, hand still clutching his sword and the other dropping from the maiden’s arm. Another shriek filled the sky and the trees filled with the frightened lowing of woodland animals fleeing, the birds shaking the remaining branches as they took off.

“Don’t be frightened,” Aegon laughed, shaking the damp curls back from his forehead. “Sunfyre is just having a little fun before he feasts. We’re both rather famished.” He opened his arms wide, the blood dripping from the dark steel of his blade. The clearing was quiet except for the low wheezing of Marvyn’s death rattles. He looked to the frightened man who was backing away before his gaze traveled back to this prince, taut and tense and gripping his useless sword with both hands. “What was it you were saying about inbred Valyrians abandoned by their beasts? There were four of you, weren’t there?” Aegon looked around again, and there was neither hide nor hair of the fourth companion, who seemed to be the only one with good judgment.

Sunfyre’s cry shook the forest once more. The horses had already fled in fear.

“Just leave,” the maiden said, finally finding her voice as she stumbled to her feet, her eyes like blue fire as she glared at the leader of her assailants. “Leave and take the gift of your life.”

She trembled with fear but her fists were curled into her skirt, her shoulders squared as she stared the man down. Her voice lilted, softly and strangely, neither melodic nor grating, but something altogether new to Aegon. The common tongue was not her mother tongue, and it gave a dulcet quality to her tone that those brutes lacked.

Aegon’s smile broadened, his teeth flashing as he looked at the prince. “Begone, you mud stricken thing.”

The two men fled, leaving the corpse of their friend behind, and Aegon watched their figures disappear into the trees. Sunfyre’s melodic trill echoed above and he chuckled, reaching down to wipe his tunic on the corpse of the man he’d stabbed. No need to stain his own clothes with such inferior blood. Sheathing his blade, Aegon Targaryen, eldest son of Viserys, the last Dragonlord of Valyria, straightened before the maiden he’d rescued. He knew she would be in awe of him, perhaps even frightened. That was certainly alright. He would reassure her, comfort her, and promise that he would bring no harm to her.

“My lady,” he said with the utmost courtesy. She stood there, several feet away, her arms wrapped around herself, her brilliant blue eyes wide and wild. There was a gentle, cracking sensation between his ribs as he took her in properly. She was a mess from head to toe, the skirts of her riding clothes soaked and stained. She was slight, shorter than he was, and fear had given her soft features a delicate quality that drew from how pale she was, how stark the blood and dirt looked across her face.

It took everything in him not to just reach for her and lick the blood away from her swollen mouth. To swallow her fearful cries away and replace them with precious little moans. She looked like she would make sweet sounds. The fight had his blood pumping with fever and the thrill of the win only increased the potency. He meant what he said: she was his now. He’d claimed her and sealed it through combat.

“Come,” he said, fingers wrapped around her wrist. Aegon was startled at how fragile the bones felt beneath his touch. He made sure he was gentle with it, not wanting to frighten her further. “We’ll fly back to Dragonstone and you’ll be given all that you desire.” The slap of her little hand against his cheek surprised Aegon more than it hurt, but still he reared back at the sting of it, looking down at the maiden with wide eyes. “I saved you!”

“From men who wanted to steal me to make me a bride against my will! You’re trying to do the same thing!” She yanked at the hold he had on her wrist, but he would not let her go, not now that he had found her.

“I’m not going to make you my bride,” he snapped, bewildered at the very thought of it. “You will be my concubine. Then if you prove yourself, I might wed you.” Bride? What a silly idea these Westerosi had. Not that the idea of tying this girl to him wasn’t appealing. To drag her at the foot of the Dragonmont, to sip wine and taste the blood on her mouth with the blood on his, it was an appealing vision. And it was his own choice, not one where he was sold for his precious dragon and his mother’s clawing attempts to change the succession. If Alicent Hightower wanted him to marry a Westerosi so much, Aegon had found his own choice.

From the furrow on her brow, to the flush that filled her lightly freckled cheeks, it was too late to realize those words would not entice her. A sharp pain radiated from his shin from where she kicked him.

“I will not be your concubine, you stupid dragon whelp.”

“You are precious when so angry,” he giggled with amusement and dodged out of the way of her attempt to rake her nails across his face. Abruptly, he released her, and the girl went stumbling back, breathless. He lifted his hands in surrender before clasping them behind his back. “I won’t touch you-”

“Go raibh maith agat,” she muttered and Aegon blinked.

“Did you sneeze?”

She huffed. “I was saying thank you. I will not have uppity Valyrians accuse me nor my people of being discourteous even as you are high handed.”

Aegon snorted. “It was your Westerosi brethren that sought to kidnap you, if I’m not mistaken.”

Her eyes were nothing short of vivid; such a brilliant, cobalt blue like the endless sky, rimmed red from tears and smudged black from lack of sleep. The softness of her vulnerability at his statement was unmistakable and she did not have a snip or barb for him. Instead, she wrapped her arms around herself and did not meet his gaze. At a loss for words now after she spent so many. Gods, she was a mess. Dirt on her cheek, her soft, molten red hair a mass of curls tied in an unkempt braid. Her wool kirtle was no better, torn along the sleeve and neckline, though it did little to detract from how fine a garment it was—or had been.

The twist of pressure in his chest was uncomfortable and unfamiliar, and Aegon did not know where to put it.It snaked through the pulsing arousal through his blood, the aching desire he had for her. “How long have you been out here?” he asked her, voice gentler this time, as if she were a skittish mare.

She desperately looked around, her lower lip trembling before her teeth caught at the ruined flesh. Blood welled up in the wound once more from the broken clot. The desire to lick it rose in him once more. Instead, Aegon tugged his handkerchief from inside his sleeve and handed it to her. The linen was carefully embroidered with golden beetles by Helaena, who’d been bedridden during her last pregnancy.

It hung between them, Aegon’s outstretched hand with the offering. Tear filled eyes met his before flicking down, eyeing his hand with all the wariness of a little rabbit before she whispered, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he replied, just as softly, if a bit ashamed. Aegon looked down at the corpse that still lay near them and he carefully stepped between it and her gaze, gently herding her away from the sight and towards the weirwood grove he’d come from. He let her lead the way, keeping a distance between them, his eyes darting about for either horses or those fools. Sunfyre warbled above them and Aegon knew he was keeping an eye out before the ground shook at the dragon’s landing. The maiden stumbled and Aegon caught her elbow before she could fall.

She did not jerk away from him this time and he did not grab her roughly, the idea of further scaring her making him uncomfortable.

“What is your name?” It was a polite question and one Aegon should have asked her before telling her he was going to carry her off to Dragonstone. No matter; he could make up for it now.

She did not look at him and Aegon noticed how she trembled, likely from the come down after the fight. His own hands were shaking lightly, but he’d been well trained to manage it. He cursed under his breath and looked towards the clearing where Sunfyre landed. There was a cloak in his saddlebag he could give her.

“Abrogail.” Aegon looked at her, dark lashes shading her eyes, her pink tongue darting out enticingly to wet her lips as she dabbed at her mouth. “My name is Abrogail.”

Oh. “That’s… that’s a lovely name. Abrogail.” It even tasted lovely on his tongue. “I’m Aegon. Targaryen. Of House Targaryen.” How foolish he sounded.

Her mouth twitched with a promise of a smile and warmth bloomed in his chest. “I gathered as much… Aegon.” Gods help him, he loved the sound of his name on her tongue. Adjusting his course of action seemed to be working as the tension eased a little in her slim shoulders and her sweet face. The pulse of desire flooded through his veins once more and Aegon exhaled, looking up at the red leaves and white boughs of the weirwoods they had come to. The light was dimming as the clouds grew heavy with moisture and Aegon could smell the oncoming rain; petrichor and ozone and the promising crack of lightning. Could he make it back to Dragonstone to stay the night?

“Are you far from home?” he asked, the words ashen in his mouth. It was the right thing to do, even when all he wanted to do was bundle her up and take her away with him. She was meant to be his now. He had claimed her, won her in combat.

“Not overly far,” she said with a strange tone. Aegon looked down at her. Abrogail’s gaze had darkened, turned inward in her contemplation. “I left for my own reasons… and I find myself without my horse. I am not,” she paused, pushing a finger into his chest with fierce, flashing eyes, a kitten arching her back, “Saying I would come with you as your concubine.” She spat the word out with a wrinkled nose.

Aegon grinned at her, all bright teeth and amusement, a mad sort of giggle spilling from him. “Oh, you’ve made yourself quite clear, my lady. I promise not to make you my concubine, but I can offer you a ride away from here.” ‘To Dragonstone,’ he thought. She was escaping something, she said, and he could provide her anything she could want. All he’d ask for in return was a taste.

Abrogail tilted her head, rosebud mouth pursing in her wariness but the curiosity was easing her features.

Several tastes, perhaps. If she insisted on looking so appetizing.

“Your dragon?” There was a nervousness in her tone, but oh, that curiosity. Aegon nodded and held his hand out to her.

“Come,” he said softly. “You can meet Sunfyre.”

Thank you for reading! I would love to hear what you think! If you're looking for more Aegon and Abby, check out The Maiden and the Drowning Boy! and of course, be sure to check out the other stories being posted for the big bang <3

[tf2occontest]

THE HUNTER VS Ray Wexler (GRN Conductor)

(Full matchup list here)

Alright team, here's a recap: This is a contest to determine who amongst you will take the top of the leaderboards and be hired at TFI! Simply put, whoever gets the most votes gets to move on, and whoever doesn't... Well. They'll be put down swiftly and cleanly. :}

So, mann your stations, because here are your next contestants! Vote for your favorite mercenary who you want to win the TF2 OC Contest! - P

OC INFO UNDER THE CUT!

We highly encourage you to take a peek to make your decision!

THE HUNTER

@scozthewoz

Image credit: @/scozthewoz

hailing from the london countrysides of the united kingdom, this insatiable butcher with the cheshire grin is a teenage expert at the art of paid homocide, despite how squirrely she may look! her presentation is a vauge riddle, hinted at with hyena-like cackles, a cruelty behind her constantly bared teeth she tends to mask as friendliness. she prides herself on her toys, each of them meticulously handmade and carefully hidden like snakes in the sand, every beartrap or snare serving nicely to hold her prey in place and maim them as it does so just in case one pesky rabbit weasles out! this viscera-lusting vermin prefers a more hands-on approach when she crawls out of the walls to play, often putting her guns to the wayside in favour of her beloved knife -- and on occasion, her teeth.

a taste of blood goes a long way for her motivation, you know.. why don't we give her a little push?

Ray Wexler (GRN Conductor)

@conductor-on-grn

Image credit: @/mxcrowave

The Conductor is a role that functions mainly over radio, informing their teammates about opportunities on the battlefield from a bird's-eye perspective. Global Radio Network is the only (official) team with a Conductor which really makes Ray special, I'd say.

I think Ray deserves to win because he's just genuinely having a good time! He actively goes to other teams just to give them random stuff! They're friendly to a vast majority of people, and love caring for his friends.

(…What might lose him the vote is the fact that they're British. My sincerest apologies.)

[nnovus]

𝐄𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐍𝐀𝐋 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 ━━ S.TODOROKI X READER

SYNOPSIS… In which, Shoto Todoroki youngest son of pro hero Endeavour is forced into an arranged marriage with the daughter of Pro hero/ clan leader, Tajima Uchiha.

INFO… Todorokixreader , ShotoTodoroki x sasuke/madarareader, mhaxnaruto, crossover, OC!!reader, OP!Reader, arranged marriage, slightly angst, character development, uchihaclan, readers looks and personality are based off madara/sasuke uchiha.

OTHER…likes and reblogs are appreciated

MASTERLIST

The warp gate swallowed her whole as she found herself in an entirely new area. — Her head was ringing as it seemed to be side effect from the warp quirk.

She fell onto her knees as she looked around noticing she seemed to be in the landslide zone of the USJ training facility.

“Woah, I wasn’t expecting them to send me a woman to kill.” A masculine flirtatious voice was heard coming from a large distance behind the Uchiha.

She sat on her knees ignoring the person who seemed to be behind her. The ground seemed to be made out of dirt and sand which was quite an advantage to her.

She sat still while her finger tips pressed onto her forehead trying to ease her the pain of her headache.

“Hey, Hey!! Don’t ignore me!!” The voice called out as she didn’t bother to turn to face it. Although it was quite obvious that the man seemed to be another villain.

Y/N rolled her eyes as she stared at a piece of shattered glass standing in the sand which allowed her to catch a glimpse of the man’s reflection.

He had slanted blue eyes with thick black eyeliner under them along with that he had long golden-blond hair which he wore drawn into a half ponytail with the rest hanging down freely.

The bang hanging over his left eye is what concealed his eye scope signifying that he was a long-range fighter

He wore a V-neck, sleeveless, midriff shirt along with pants, stirrups, and traditional japanese sandals. He also wore a utility belt with two bags on either side.

“Keep it down would you, I have a damn headache.” She angrily argued as her eyes shut tight. His veins popped as he heard the women disrespect him so easily.

As she slowly opened her eyes she saw in the glass reflection, a large type of clay insect crawl out of the man’s utility belt bags.

It was obvious to her that it had something to do with his quirk so it was easy for her to encounter it. As the clay animal had gotten closer her eyes widened as it had now exploded.

“BAAM!!” He yelled. His manically smile in full effect. Certain he had gotten her with the explosion as black smoke covered where she sat.

His eyes widened to see the smoke clear up as the remained there completely untouched.

She had turned her head lowering it as her chin touched her shoulder. Her side continued to face male. As the male had now noticed her bright red eyes.

His sweat dropped, and his teeth gritted as he made eye contact with her furious sharingan eyes. He noticed she seemed more pale than when he had first seen her. Was she getting sick or something?

She kept her usual hairstyle that was down with shoulder-length bangs framing the sides of her face covering most of right eye.

Her hero costume consisted of dark blue pants, over which hangs a blue cloth that covers her from her stomach to her knees and which she secures with a purple rope belt

She complements this with a white long-sleeved shirt kept open at the torso as her chest was covered with bandages. Although it didn’t take any away from her femininity. She also wore black arm guards that cover both of her forearms.

She seemed to keep her sword held in its black scabbard that was placed behind her being held by the purple rope belt. It was a larger size than a normal chokutō.

Getting up from her knees, she was quick to grab her sword and rush towards the blonde male. He was shocked at her speed as she seemed like practically teleported.

He jumped back just in time dodging the swing of her blade, landing back onto a half demolished house of the landslide arena.

He was quick to decide his next move as he shoved his hands in both pockets of his utility belt pulling out multiple of the same clay insects, as he threw them towards her.

He watched as she seemed to be gathering lighting in her hand, piercing every single one of the clay insects that came her way.

His heart skipped a beat seeing as Y/N was no longer in his field of vision, now hastily looking around trying to find where she was coming.

He felt a presence creep from behind him assuming it was Y/N he used the clay insect and threw it behind him jumping down from the building before activating the explosion. 

Sliding down from the building he seemed to be clearly frustrated not expecting this to go the way it currently was.

Watching the girl also fall down from the building not seeming to have any damage shown on her psychically.

He stared at her face to face taking notice of her prominent creases that had become more obvious. Another thing was the sclera of her eye had turned a light red making her look pale and weak.

Is she tired? Perhaps sick?Was it a drawback of her sharingan? No it’s definitely the first time he had seen such a thing occur.

“hmph your certainly quick on your feet, I think I’ll play with you for a bit.” The golden-blonde villain teased acting cocky as if he wasn’t struggling just a while ago.

“Another word, and I’m going to kill you and ship your corpse back to that league of bastards.” She threatened her voice clearly in a tone of extreme anger and pain.

She watched as the male had lifted both his hands allowing her to see a mouth on both of his palms. As the mouths from his palm began to vomit out liquidly clay.

It didn’t take long for the liquidly clay to form into two weird shaped human beasts. Though Y/N could tell from the way the beasts launched at her. They weren’t very strong.

“What a joke.” She muttered using her sword to slice through the first clay beast that ran towards as it tried to punch her.

Letting go of the sword and then using her combat skills to take down the other. With the first beast already taken down and melted back into its primary form.

The Uchiha raised her eyebrows to see that smaller clay beasts were formed each time they were cut.

Using her Sharigsn she was able to see from the wielder that his quirk flow only stops when the clay detonates and explodes.

Using that knowledge to her advantage then spread herself to run around the landslide training facility as the smaller beasts she had cut down began to chase after her exploding each time they had gotten close.

She had now put some distance between her and the cocky villain as she was out of his sight meaning he can only guess if she had been defeated by the size of the explosions.

“How’s that..” The villain laughed until he had realised the Uchiha had substituted herself with a tree brunch as her real body stood in front of him once again.

“Substitution huh, well you’re clearly very skilled.” He complimented shoving his hands in his pockets once again fishing for clay.

“Well then..” He added clearly having something up his sleeve that she wouldn’t anticipate.

The villain placed his hands together before an explosion was fired in the exact spot the villain stood.

As smoke cleared up, Y/N could see her enemy stood on top a massive clay dragon he seemed to have summoned with that past explosion.

She twitched her eyes to see the dragon open his mouth as clay bombs come crawling out scattering themselves as they hurried themselves underneath to make a Landmine.

It wasn’t long before the clay dragon began to blast itself off into the sky as it began flying above her in circles not wanting to touch the ground.

“Answer me this, can that giant thing be an explosive aswell?” She asked but in all seriousness she knew she wouldn’t get an answer.

“Like I’ll tell you..” He said as his cocky tone only made the Uchiha get more annoyed.

She had picked her sword up when she had seen the male put his hands together one more time watching the dragon open his mouth to launch a miniature beast flying her way.

The miniature beast was faster than the others but when it had reached her it gave a weaker explosion she had gotten caught in.

Using her arms to cover her face as she slightly got blown away with the explosion. To counter she stabbed her sword into the ground to give stability.

As the explosion cleared up she grabbed her sword and threw 15ft in front of her, where she assumed the land mines would be.

In truth the blonde had no idea what she was doing until she had disappeared from his sight once again only for then to be seen standing on the Pommel of her sword.

He couldn’t deny her speed and flexibility were something else, the best his ever seen if his being honest.

His veins popped to see that she had gathering lightning and infused it with her sword that was through the ground to disable the land mines.

He watched her use the lighting that surrounded her hand and shaping the lighting into a long blade emanating from her arm.

Lifting her hand he watched Y/N pierce through the clay dragon wings while still staying at a distance.

“What the hell-” He whispered to himself, frustrated as his clay dragon began to fall down unable to fly anymore.

…

She was too quick for him. His lips now trembled as a string of blood left his mouth running down onto his chin. Heavy breathing left the villains mouth.

Right now Y/N stood an inch away of him as all five of her fingertips pressed onto the males chest. As the clay dragon that had fallen, laid behind them paralysed.

His eyes twitched as he realised she had infused lightning energy(chakra) into his body making him unable to move. He collapsed onto his knees. Head hitting the ground as his body remained in agony.

He was still conscious though it seems he was unable to move. His eyes refused to leave the Uchiha that stood in front of him staring him down as she looked mesmerising.

As the natural light hit her face allowing her to sharingan glow as he saw his own reflection in her eyes.

“It’s beautiful..this..” He weakly whispered as the girl only stood staring at him.

“This is art.” He angrily continued as it was hard to listen to the male as words struggled to come out his mouth.

A hard kick by the girl was connected to his face as his body practically flew hitting a demolished building across Y/N.

As he was now able to get a view of her whole figure he realised she had become frail and worn out as she seemed to take heavy pants.

“But how, how’d you figure it out.” He asked gripping and scratching the ground as it was the only type of movement he was able to do in his state

“I knew it a while back when I first activated my sharingan.” She replied as the small bits of lighting sparked around her body.

“When facing the sharingan you really oughta make ur movements out of the line of sight because no matter how fast you are. These eyes can read them.” She said as each word that left her mouth made the blonde angrier.

“Explosions use earth style, while I use chidori which is lighting style, you do the math. Earth style is vulnerable to lightning.” A frail cocky smirk appearing on her face.

“These eyes see’s quirk energy as colours, so when I looked at you I saw that your body had the same energy in those bombs.”

“I didn’t understand it right away, but when I touched you with lightning I finally understood it.”

“You’re a walking bomb aren’t you?? Your body is made out of the same stuff as those clay insects, so lighting should be able to restrict your movement for a while.” She said and guessing by him gripping onto the floor harder she seemed to be correct.

Suddenly she felt a painful tension occur on Uchiha’s as a terrible soft outcry was heard leaving her mouth.

As her eye pain only worsen she lowered her head, placing her palms on top of her eyes, coloured nails only digging deeper into her forehead.

It took no longer than a second before she collapsed onto her knees, her chest inches away from the ground as she used her elbows for support.

Her head spinning. Each thought felt heavier than the last, a wave of nausea completely taking over her.

A gag escaped her lips, and before she could brace herself, she was hunched over, the contents of her stomach erupting onto the floor with a force that left her gasping.

“You sure can’t talk tough, you’re on your last legs too. You’re not any better than me.” He snickered wanting a reaction out of the girl.

His face flushed. He was furious. He hated how the girl managed to stay calm no matter what was said. Did she not take him seriously or something?

“How are you still calm, shouldn’t you be worried just a little? THAT IS WHAT ANNOYS ME THE MOST!! YOU THINK YOUR JUST SO COOL!!” He raised his voice. Rage taking over his mind.

He reminding Y/N of Bakugou, as they were both short tempered with powers involving explosions.

“Those eyes! Those over confident eyes make me so sick. Your eyes judging me and my art, I’ll never forgive them for that.” He continued as it was hard for the Uchiha to understand him with half her head in a blur.

“You have absolutely no respect for my art I can tell that you don’t I can never forgive those eyes that just ignore my art.” He was gasping for air as the yelling tired him out even more.

“I couldn’t care less about all that.” Y/N calmly replied lifting her head to make eye contact with him. It was true that after vomiting the pain did seem to ease.

Her eyes widened as the same warp gate from earlier appeared underneath where the villain laid as the warp started to cover his body.

“That’s enough, Deidara..” The voice from the wrap portal spoke up.

So that was the villains name. Deidara. She watched the mysterious figure use his quirk to teleport Deidara somewhere he couldn’t be reached.

It didn’t take long for both the two villains to disappear leaving the Uchiha by herself… She slowly got up as her balance was slightly loose.

She turned her head as she felt a sudden change in temperature. Considering she was inside the USJ facility it was expected to be hot.

Which made it clear, as the air became colder. Todoroki must be near by…

[yanphobia]

Athazagoraphobia - Chapter 10

Athazagoraphobia: The fear of forgetting, and being forgotten.

Pairing: Yandere Male Merman OC x Reader

Warnings (for the entire story): Yandere, Horror, Graphic Discriptions of Injury and Death, The Ocean, Body Horror, NonCon Touching, Dubcon, Female Reader, Extreme Dead Dove Do Not Eat

Chapter 9 Index Chapter 11

Author's Note: My computer keeps autocorrecting Lotan to Logan... @creepysweetie @my2phetaliaheadcanons @smolnuggie911 @spicylove4ever @acaribeau @mel-vaz

The water around you was thin and weightless. There was a horrible, blinding light shining down on you. It burned, and you had to cover your eyes with your hands. When you brought them to your face, you could feel how soft your skin was, how strange the color. You saw where your talons had been clipped off, and the webbing and scales were gone entirely. You couldn’t feel your gills flaring with each breath you took.

You were suddenly aware of just how small and fragile you had become. You forced yourself to open your eyes and find an escape from this awful place, but every color was too bright and vivid to focus on. You were surrounded by strange looking plants and even stranger looking fish floating above you, making disturbing chirping noises.

There was a creature approaching you with two tails, calling out an unfamiliar greeting. It was a female and although she kept speaking, you were too entranced by her beauty to hear her. 

Her eyes were dark, like yours, but instead of being soulless black holes they were as warm as the rich sand she stood on. Her skin was healthy and golden brown, and her pitched black hair coiled like a living current. 

She smiled at you then, revealing a fangless mouth full of dull yet sparkling teeth. She repeated herself once more:

“[Y/N].”

–

You awoke with a start, your chest heaving. The water around you was still, dark and heavy, but your heart pounded as if you had been swimming for miles. Lotan’s arms were heavy around you as he snored softly, his tail curled possessively over yours like a serpent guarding its prize.

The memory of your dream clung to you like a second skin, that strange word echoing in your mind. You glanced towards the entrance of the nest, the tightness of the cavern once a comfort, but was now an unrelenting weight pressing on you. 

The truth was crushing you. The dream had unlocked something—a door you hadn’t realized was there. Memories of warmth, of laughter, of a life you couldn’t quite piece together.

You stared into the nothingness. It wasn’t the predators lurking in the dark that frightened you. It was the realization that you had forgotten who you were.

–

The woman in your dream continued to haunt you. You yearned to see her again, to make her sweet laugh ring out. To hear her say that word again. [Y/N]. Had you been [Y/N] once, or was that her name? Was it the name of her species…? The thought of being a [Y/N] alongside her made your heart ache.

The more you thought about her, the more you started to truly observe Lotan. You began to notice things you hadn’t before. The way he spoke, his words honeyed when he wanted your compliance, self-pitying when he wanted your sympathy, sharp when your resolve wavered. The way he subtly undermined your confidence, reminding you that you had no one else. His eyes, always watching, always calculating.

The cracks in your reality widened. Your memories, once carefully locked away, began to surface. Faces, voices, fragments of a life that felt both foreign and achingly familiar.

And now, as you pieced it all together, you began to see the truth.  Lotan hadn’t saved you. He had taken you. Stolen you from a life you could barely recall but knew was yours. This realization was a weight, heavy and cold. But within it was something else: anger.

Before, you would have folded under the pressure, but now things were different. You were no longer the terrified girl Lotan had plucked from the shore. You had learned to survive, to fight, to thrive in the depths. And now, as you let your hatred fester inside of you like a wound, you would prove it to him.

—

You tested your plan carefully, starting with small complaints.

“This nest feels... cramped,” you murmured one evening. “And unsafe. The walls aren’t strong enough.”

Lotan waved a dismissive hand, his tail cutting through the water in a lazy arc. "Brizo, you worry too much. With me here, nothing will harm you. This nest is the perfect culmination of our efforts. Why leave now?"

The culmination of our efforts. As if Lotan had done more than laze around while you bled for their survival. You gritted your teeth, letting your tail flick slightly to betray your agitation before quickly smoothing your expression. 

“It’s not good enough. We need to find something else-”

“Brizo,” he whined, his voice taking on a saccharine tone that grated on your nerves, “why are you always so difficult? I’ve done everything for you. No one else ever would, you know.” He sighed and leaned in closer, his claws brushing over the scars he claimed to admire. “I thought you would be different from the other females… why am I never enough for anyone?”

His lips curled into a pout, his gaze searching yours for weakness. “Why can’t you just be thankful for once?! Don’t you remember how the colony treated you? You were nothing—lost, weak, and alone. And I took you in, loved you when no one else would. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?!”

It was a speech he’d given before, and once, it would have shattered your resolve. But you had learned to see through him, and you only nodded, letting your face drop for effect.

“I just want to protect us,” you whispered, your voice trembling perfectly. “Protect you. The nest... it’s not safe. There’s a better place. I’ve seen it.”

Your tone softened, your sadness more pronounced. Lotan’s demeanor shifted instantly, the whiny veneer peeling away as his frustration boiled over.

“You’re so ungrateful,” he snapped, his tail thrashing angrily. “Do you have any idea how lucky you are? No one else would even look at you, let alone build a life with you. If it weren’t for me, you’d still be that pathetic little outcast, scuttling around like you mattered to anyone. Is that what you want? To go back to being useless?!”

The words stung, but you refused to flinch even when he grabbed your shoulders and shook you roughly. Instead, you shifted your tone, letting your sobs grow louder and your posture shrink into vulnerability.

“I’m sorry,” you choked, her voice breaking as she bowed her head. “I just... I’m scared, Lotan. The predators—they’re getting bolder, and I’m so afraid something will happen. I’ll be too weak after giving birth to protect everyone. Please, for the sake of our children... can we just look at the other place? If you don’t like it, we’ll stay here. Please.”

The sobbing worked, as you knew it would. You knew that Lotan would spend every day of his life convincing himself that he wasn’t a bully, and would be quick to stop anything that would challenge that delusion. His face softened, the angry lines melting into a self-satisfied smirk.

“You know, you’re lucky I’m so patient with you,” he said, his tone shifting back to its faux-sincerity. “Anyone else would’ve thrown you out for your tantrum, but I’m not like them. I actually care.”

He leaned down to kiss you, and you let him.

“Fine, we’ll look at this other place that you’re so obsessed with. But don’t get your hopes up—it’s probably not even half as good as what I’ve already provided.”

You nodded, and the teary smile on your face was actually genuine this time.