#she looks short because she tried to duck out of the way.

[solacedeer]

(cursed au where demelza is Chosen as belle)

Sariel: Great news, you are a shockingly convincing noblewoman. I couldn’t poke a hole in your performance if I tried.

demelza: Of course, it’d be a disgrace to your tutoring if I weren’t.

Sariel: Right. Well the bad news is that you’re a shockingly terrible Belle. If you can’t do both at once i’m prepared to break you back down and try again.

d: O.

(shes also a little behind on her studies)

[qlossytbh]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐥𝐬 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐬𝐞 - 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐱 𝐛𝐚𝐮!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬 you get your period. that’s the synopsis.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 fem!reader, mentions of lots of period pain, cramps, nausea, fatigue..etc, mutual pining, idiots in love. pretty much just fluff tbh

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 1.2k

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 guess who just got their period!!!!!

𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐢𝐝 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 | 𝐦𝐚𝐢𝐧 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

An involuntary groan left your lips, elbows perched against your desk and head falling weakly into the palms of your hands. Your forehead was shining a thin layer of sweat, breath short and jagged.

You squeezed your eyes shut, trying to alleviate the gut-wrenching pain that was pulsating throughout your lower abdomen. Your body felt weak, shaking slightly due to the pain.

This time of the month was the devil's way of making you pay for something you had done in a past life— although you couldn’t think of anything that would bring you anywhere near deserving of this monstrosity.

Penelope eyed you curiously, stopping midway on her trail back to her own little bat cave, as you liked to call it. It would take an idiot not to see how clearly in pain you were.

“Hello my sweet love,” She walked up to your desk, heels clinking against the floor. “You okay?”

You gave your friend a side glance, lacking the vast amounts of energy you needed to dismiss her concerned gaze.

“Just great Pen,” You gritted, teeth clamping together as one more wave of cramps shot through your body. Your cramps came in waves and right now you were trying to recompose yourself from one of said waves. You were failing miserably at the staying cool and collected persona.

Penelope's face fell, mouth curving into a small ‘o’ of understanding. “Oh..”

You slumped over your desk, resting your forehead on the cool surface as your arms snaked around your lower body. She rested a hand on your back and rubbed soft, soothing circles. “That time of the month?”

“Does everyone have such a hard time with cramps?” You groaned from your position on your desk.

“Some people do,” She whispered, voice hesitant. “I had a friend that had to go to the hospital once because of how bad her cramps were and they told her that she—“

You whined, curving your spine impossibly further as an attempt to sooth something, anything. Maybe if you curled up further into a ball it’d hurt less. Penelope could tell she wasn’t helping “Sorry! I thought I was helping with the—“

You were on the latter end of society that suffered period cramps immensely. Back pain, nausea— all of it. It made it impossible for you to come to work the week of your period, but hey, here you were pulling through.

Lucky for you, today had been paperwork day, meaning skimping through countless files was easier than having to run around chasing a serial killer while your uterus was being ripped to pieces.

Soon enough the bullpen's glass doors pulled open and in spilled the rest of the team, Emily chatting along with JJ, Spencer alongside a very enthusiastic Derek and so on.

Penelope continued to rub your back even when you lifted your head and let your chin settle on the desk with a pout that looked as clear as day. Anyone in this building could walk by and notice your clear discomfort— Spencer was no different.

He placed a hand on the back of your chair, ducking down to get a better look at your pitiful state. “Hey,”

“Hi,” You grumbled.

“Should I ask?” Spencer pulled a chair out from the desk beside yours and sat by your side, letting his hands fall in his own lap as he looked up at Penelope.

“I tried helping,” Penelope muttered out. “I get skittish when I don’t know how to help, or what to do and I do this thing with words and—“

You turned your head, laying it flat on its side on your cold desk to get a look at him— a proper one. Your eyes bored more than a million ways to say you were exhausted, and he immediately caught what was up. He always did.

“Doesn’t the fact that I look like a dying corpse give it away?” You complained, face smushed onto the desk

He smiled back. “You don’t look like a dying corpse,”

You blushed. “An already dead one then,”

He shook his head with a huff that left his nose. He scratched at his chin before muttering. “You were a little snappish and grouchy last week,”

Penelope visibly shrinked, thinking Spencer may have just pinched a nerve. “I’m gonna go get you a nice warm coffee, ok?”

It was all she needed to walk away in a hurried movement of heel clicks. You narrowed your eyes at him. Was he insinuating that you had been an utter pain in the ass last week because you were about to get your period?

Noticing this, he half-panicked before quickly jumping into his own defense. “You— uh, I often notice that you get like that the week before which it’s mainly attributed to hormonal fluctuations, particularly changes in estrogen and progesterone levels. They— These hormones can affect neurotransmitters like serotonin and GABA, which regulate mood and emotions.”

“I wasn’t that snappish and grouchy last week,” You knew you had been, because you always were the week before the devil decided to test your limits. You just didn’t really think anyone noticed.

But he did, he always did. And the fact that he did notice was doing funny things to your brain.

He smiled at you. Very softly and almost humorously. “Here—“

You perched up, watching as he reached into his satchel and pushed around in search of— well, something. He pulled out a bag and plopped in on the desk.

You reached over and grabbed the crumpled white paper bag “—I uh, you mentioned wanting a bag of swedish candy a few days ago, especially the sour ones, and me and Morgan walked by a shop and yeah— I figured why not get you some,”

He was doing that very expressive thing he did with his hands where he flared them around as he talked, but you just stared at the bag and then looked up at him.

The pink tint on his cheeks was evident as he avoided eye contact with you. Your shoulders slumped down, bag laying flat in your lap, while trying so hard to keep the tears from coming out of your eyes.

“Can I have a hug?”

Spencer cut himself short from the mumbling, looking up from the floors to study your face. He looked mostly confused, not really being able to pinpoint what was going through your head with your request. He had to be a very, very stupid man to deny your request.

His eyebrows pinched together, probably concerned for you, and that did no better for your upcoming waterworks. His voice came out in the very soft and caring way it always did when he was worried for you.“Yeah, of course,”

He pushed the wheels of the chair he had just pulled out and scooted closer to your own chair. His arms reached out for you, and you slumped forward, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and burying your face into it.

“Thank you,” You muttered. His hands tightened around your back, giving it a firm rub. He breathed in the sweet scent of you, basking in the strong vanilla that intoxicated every fiber of his being.

Being there for you as a friend, even infatuated as much as he was with you, was hard— but so worth it when he at least was allowed these moments with you.

You wanted to melt into him and not move a single muscle ever again. Why would you when your most comfortable place was in Spencer arms. It could never get better than this.

“You ok?” He mumbled into your hair, and you buried yourself deeper into his neck.

“Yeah, just wanna stay here for a bit,”

He smiled to himself, feeling you cling to him like dead body weight. As long as you felt a little better, he had no room to complain.

[cashmoneyyysstuff]

Hello! I hope you're having a good day! I was thinking about this Bakugou, where he penches his s/o lips whenever she teases him or compliments him, saying that her lips should be punished for driving him crazy or smth.

I just find this idea cute if you please can write about it 😭🤍

a/n:..wait...cus why are you a literal genius this got a lil kick teww ittttt.. (kinda soooorta angsty but like if you squint, katsuki is bad at feelings but he tries his hardest, kissing, no biting for once wow its been a while..dont worry yall its comin, short lil drabble, hope u enjoy ! <3)

"your eyes are so pretty katsu."

katsuki bakugou thinks he'll never be able to get used to you when he looks down at your head in his lap, raising a brow as a defensive mechanism to not turn red all the way down to his chest.

"where'd this come from ?" he leans into your hand almost reflexively when you place it against his cheek, still not breaking eye contact as you smile at him, he feels warmth crawl up his back and it makes him squint.

"nowhere," you run your finger across his cheek, than across his nose bridge "just wanted to tell you."

he gulps, clearing his throat his eyes fight to keep looking into yours, relaxed and happy and comfortable. it feels strange to see someone so comfortable around him.

"yeah ?"

"mhm, your lashes are so long too." you muse. it's casual, it comes out so easily.

he feels his heart beat loudly against his chest when you run your fingers over his eyebrows. you keep on touching him, and he likes it, usually. but it's overwhelmingly nice, you're overwhelmingly nice and he doesn't know what to do with it. because bakugou isn't sweet like you. he can't casually tell you that he loves your eyes, that he could be perfectly content staring at you doing whatever for hours on end, that random things he sees when he's out remind him of you and that you're the last thing he thinks about when he falls asleep.

because it comes out wrong, when he does. but even still your words make him so unbearably giddy. it's foreign receiving compliments, and if he does their almost always quirk related. but these are different and they're from you, so it feels even better and though embarrassment creeps up onto his body his heart buzzes and beats proudly. he feels like he can't sit still so he does the next best thing.

"shush." he mumbles, pinching your cheeks to make you pout. you splutter out a giggle when he leans down to place a sloppy wet kiss onto your duck lips. "you keep sayin' weird shit.." he dodges your grin when he lets go of your cheek.

"but they are long ! and your eyes are pretty ! that's not weird, it's the truth." you maintain, nodding afterwards like your word is law. fuck, he loves you.

"be quiet." he pinches your lips shut and you start flailing around with muffled giggles and squeals. katsuki follows, laughing through his nose and meanly moving your lips around in his grip.

"fuck, you drive me crazy.." your eyes snap open at his soft eyes and words. his eyes shine mischievously but his cheeks are bright as he smirks. you pout at him and it makes him want to squeeze you until you pop. ( he remembers you called it cute aggression or something)

"you talk too damn much." he pinches your cheek "needa be punished for drivin' me nuts all the damn time."

"jush shay yur not goo wif complimeshs." katsuki snorts at your attempts to talk with your cheek in his grip, and he can't help the half smirk on his face when you laugh. he releases your cheek in favor of leaning down to press his lips against yours.

"you're the pretty one, dummy."

"but we can both be pretty !"

"whatever, you're prettier then."

katsuki still feels his heart thump loudly in his chest, and he's sure he'll keep feeling like this for a long while. your words will keep sticking to his heart like they always do. and maybe he is 'pretty', he'll go along with that for you, but you're definitely prettier.

[7ndipity]

Time For You

Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Just a lil blurb about Yoongi surprising his S/o at work bc he’s a softie.

Warnings: none

A/N: Thanks to my lovely ⭐ anon for this request! It’s a lil short, but I hope you like it!💜

Masterlist

°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•

It had been one of those work days that seemed to drag on longer than normal. Nothing was particularly wrong, it wasn’t any busier or more hectic than usual, but you were still acutely aware of the hours seeming to creep by at a glacial pace.

‘Just a little longer’, You promised yourself. Just a few more hours and you would be home, in your cozy apartment with your warm bed and your sweet boyfriend, who you planned to cuddle within an inch of his life as soon as you saw him.

As if summoned by your thoughts, one of your co-workers came over as you were finishing up helping a customer, sporting a knowing grin.

“Hey, Y/n? There’s a guy over there that says he’s going to start crying if you don’t look at him?” She said, nodding off to the side.

Glancing up in confusion, you couldn’t help the smile that spread across your face as your eyes landed on a familiar figure standing over near the door. His face was partially hidden by the hat that he tugged down , but you could recognized that sheepish, little grin anywhere

You quickly switched places with your co-worker before practically sprinting over to Yoongi, half tackling him in a hug.

“What are you doing here?!” You exclaimed, trying to keep your voice low to avoid drawing attention, but unable to hide your happiness at his sudden appearance.

“We were filming a few blocks over, so I thought I’d come by on my way home and check on you.” He said, glancing up at you shyly.

“Aww, were you worried about me?” You grinned, reaching up to cup his face. “You big softie.”

“Don’t make me regret it.” He groaned, trying to squirm out of your hold.

“Hey, you were the one threatening to cause a scene because I wouldn’t look at you.” You chuckled.

He grumbled out something you couldn’t make out before holding out a small bag to you. “I also brought this, but if you’re gonna be weird about it-”

You quickly snatched the bag away before he could finish, peeking inside at the contents before looking back up at him in surprise.

“You brought me cookies?” You questioned.

“I happened to pass that bakery you like on my way here, no big deal.” He shrugged.

You said nothing, staring up at him as he tried to hide the growing flush in his cheeks.

“What?” He asked after a moment.

“You love me.” You grinned.

He huffed.

“It took cookies for you to realize that?” He asked dryly, fiddling with the edge of his hat, a habit of his that you had come to know meant he was embarrassed or flustered.

“No, but it’s a nice reminder.” You said. “It’s nice when you make time for little things like this.”

“I’ll always make time for you.” He answered softly, the sudden sincerity in his tone catching you off guard.

Yoongi had always had a way of pulling your heartstrings with just a few words, even before you had started dating, a simple comment like “I miss you” had been enough to cause your heart to skip a beat before taking off at high speed.

As much as you liked to tease him for being whipped for you, you were just as down bad for him.

You suddenly remembered you were standing in the middle of your workplace, clearing your throat awkwardly.

“I- uh, I have to get back to work.” You said quickly.

He nodded, understanding.

“I’ll see you at home.” He said, stepping away, but you followed, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips.

“I love you too.” You said softly, stepping back. “Thank you for the cookies.”

“You’re welcome.” He said, his cheeks flushed fully red.

“I’ll see you later.” You promised.

“See you later.” He repeated, turning quickly and heading for the exit.

You caught him giving a quick glance back at you from the door, sending you a little wave before ducking out, leaving you stood grinning after him.

“He’s really something special, isn’t he?” Your co-worker commented, watching you with an amused expression. “My boyfriend never does stuff like that.”

“Yeah,” You agreed. “He really is something special.”

Taglist: @sopebubbles-replies @btsw1fe @this-must-be-my-tardis @whitefoxgirl @bethanysnow @coffeedepressionsoup @main-bangtansmauyeondan @feminympho @a-gayish-unicorn @dfqcsqueen @mother2monsters @comingupwithacoolnameishard @universal-travel-er @bo0o0o0ooo @captainorangegoose @k4ngelz

[mediumgayitalian]

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

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

“Solace!”

“Fuck,” Will curses.

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

“Are you…hiding from Clarisse?”

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

“Solace!”

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

Will groans. “Aw, come on, Clarisse!”

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

“You have siblings! You have a boyfriend!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nico chooses to take that as the compliment it is.

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

Clarisse kicks him. “You’re pathetic.”

“Ugh.”

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

———

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

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

Will turns to her, opening his mouth —

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

— and closes it again, huffing.

“I’ll find a way,” he says glumly.

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

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

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

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

“Thanks, Austin.”

“Of course! Love you Will!”

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

And therein lies the trouble.

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lou Ellen winces. “Ah.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s Harley.

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

A dirty trick by the Hephaestus cabin.

But an effective one.

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

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

Nico understands.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The whole place bleeds white, hot anguish.

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

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

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

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

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

He trudges forward.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It hurts,” she croaks.

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

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

“Help me. Please.”

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

He holds her until the pain slowly stops.

———

Will is in the surgical suite for seven straight hours.

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

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

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

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

———

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

Predictably, she only glowers.

“Not a chance, Solace,” she rasps.

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

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

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

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

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

“Yeah, well, someone tell him that.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The tactic works.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Come here.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“As long as you need.”

———

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

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

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

They comply, stomping over to their practice chariot.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“And Sherman is just a generally grouchy person.”

“I know.”

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

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

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

“I’m still sorry.”

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

Will smiles. “Thank you.”

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

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

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

“Uh-huh.”

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

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

———

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

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

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

Nico rolls his eyes and decides to stop humouring him.

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

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

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

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

Nico opens his mouth. He closes it again.

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

“Hear, hear,” both siblings mutter.

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

Competition will be hefty.

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

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

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

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

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

The first few seconds, as always, are chaotic.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Without pausing to look behind them, they race on.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Will hesitates.

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

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

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

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

“That’s no excuse! You need to be —”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You don’t get to say that to me.”

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

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

But he’s never heard Will sound so dangerous.

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

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

“Will, I —”

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

No one even moves.

———

Predictably, the silence does not last long.

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

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

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

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

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

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

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

Nico swallows. Fuck. “Yeah.”

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

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

She nods, then disappears back into her tree.

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

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

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

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

Except, perhaps fittingly, his bright, golden hair.

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

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

“Will.”

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

Alarmed, Nico crawls all the way up.

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

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

Will comes easily.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Until Will.

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

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

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

———

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

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

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

“We can’t stay here forever.”

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

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

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

“I don’t want to be strong.”

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

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

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

Nico hums. “But she betrayed you.”

“All of us.”

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

Will nods. “It’s disgusting.”

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

Will glances away. “No.”

“Will, you — look at me.”

He does.

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

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

“Trying to do what Michael would have done?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Not in front of anyone.”

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

Will hesitates. “That’s — different.”

“How?”

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

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

“You can, too, you know, I lo —”

“I know.”

Will exhales in relief. “Good.”

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

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

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

[heli-writes]

A dragon's heart, part 3.

Pairing: Barbarian!Bakugou Katsuki x female!reader

Summary: The dragonblood tribe is known for being cruel, barbarian warriors that slaughter, loot and rape all places they pass through. They are feared among the villagers and even bigger cities. Having lost most of their women to a plague, they're trying to ensure their tribe's survival by kidnapping women from other places. However, they're not the only monsters in human form out there. When y/n experiences this first hand, she has no choice but to ask for help from no other but the barbarian leader Katsuki Bakugou himself.

Disclaimer: mentions of injuries

[Please don't read if you are sensible to or triggered by the topics mentioned above.]

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Series Masterlist

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Katsuki always gets up early. There's something about it that makes him feel calm. The fresh morning air, the silence of the forest. His dragon and y/n are still sound asleep when he gets up and goes to the river to get some water. Upon his return, his dragon yawns loudly and watches him with a lazy eye. Y/n is still knocked out and Katsuki wonders if anything can wake up that woman. He heats some of the water in a pot and throws some herbs in it that he collected along the way. When the water is cooking and y/n still isn't up, Katsuki stomps over to her and harshly kicks her feet.

"Oi! Get up!", he yells and y/n jerks up. Her hair hangs over her face and Katsuki's sure there's some drool on her chin. "If you keep lazying around, I don't know why I am keeping you around!", Katsuki barks at her and y/n ducks her head away a little bit. He swirls around and stomps back to the tea he is brewing. Y/n rubs her eyes and looks at him disorientedly. She turns over to see the dragon who has raised its head at Katsuki's loud voice. She peels Katsuki's cape away from her and shivers at the cool air.

After getting up, she walks over to Katsuki sitting by the fire. She hands back his cape with a quiet 'thank you'. Katsuki gives her a mean side-eye and hands her a cup of tea. It's piping hot and y/n burns her tongue when she tries it. She almost chokes at the sensation and Katsuki snickers.

Y/n sees how he has a grin on his face. Involuntarily she has to laugh too. "You ass!", she giggles and pushes him a bit. Katsuki doesn't move an inch at her shove but he bursts an even bigger grin. Then, he grabs her head and puts her in a chokehold rubbing his fist over her hairline. "Hey, that's mean!", y/n whines and tries to get out of Katsuki's grip. Eventually, Katsuki lets go of her and y/n fixes her hair. There's a slight blush on her cheeks. She's not sure whether it's because she struggled against him or because Katsuki is so close to her right now.

Katsuki has a cheeky grin on his face when he hands y/n her tea back. Y/n eyes him suspiciously and takes another sip. It's more cool now. He must've put some cold water in it to make it more drinkable for her.

When they're done with their tea, Katsuki starts gathering his hunting gear again. "Are you leaving again?", y/n asks him. She walks closer to him. "Do you want me to stay?", she wants to know. Katsuki looks up from what he's been doing. Y/n points at herself. "What about me?", she repeats again and points towards her. Katsuki grunts. "You", he tells her while pointing at her. "Stay here!", he continues pointing to the ground.

Y/n crooks her head. "I guess that means I should stay.", she contemplates and then gives him a short nod. Katsuki nods back at her, content that she understood what he meant. "He stays with you, so you don't go running off again.", he adds pointing towards his dragon. Y/n looks at the dragon, then back at Katsuki. The question mark on her face is very visible.

When Katsuki disappears into the woods, y/n assumes he needs to go pee before flying off with his dragon. However, he doesn't come back. And y/n is left alone with the giant dragon looming over her. Actually, that's not true. The dragon continues to lay lazily at the edge of the clearing watching her with one eye. Y/n feels a bit lost. She's not sure what to do, so she tidies up a bit around the campsite. She checks the vegetables and herbs she collected yesterday. She brews some more tea. When she's done, she takes a bowl of it over to the dragon.

"Uhm, do you want some?", she asks the dragon. The dragon opens both eyes and then opens his gigantic snout. Y/n is taken aback a little bit by its sharp teeth but then pours the content into the dragon's mouth. The dragon lets out a content grumble. Y/n has to giggle. It seems like dragons also enjoy tea. The dragon nudges y/n with its nose and y/n falls back by the force. Y/n has to smile. "Maybe dragons aren't as scary as I thought they were.", she thinks to herself.

*~*~*

Katsuki lets out a frustrated groan and rams his fist into the nearby tree. "This fucking deer is a lot faster than I thought.", he thinks to himself. He thought he could catch up to them by foot but so far he wasn't able to get close to the flock. Eventually, he figures he won't catch up to them. Actually, he could but leaving y/n alone with his dragon for too long doesn't strike him as a good idea. Thus, eventually, he turns around even though it's still quite early.

He's tired when he returns to camp. Also, he's starving. This time, he didn't catch a bunny or anything else on his way back. He found himself worrying over that stupid woman and hurried back without stopping. When he stomps onto the clearing, the smell of something hearty and spicy fills the air.

Y/n is standing in front of the fireplace and stirs in a pot. She looks over her shoulder when she hears the rustling of leaves behind her. When she spots Katsuki, she turns around and gives him a sweet smile. "Welcome back!", she tells him. Katsuki's heart skips a beat and he looks at her with a grim expression for a second. Then, he snaps out of it and angrily points at her.

"What are you doin'? What did I tell you about lighting fires?", he yells. Before being able to continue his ramble, his dragon moves his head over to him and blows some hot steam into Katsuki's face. At that, Katsuki at the dragon dumbly. Did his dragon... just defend her?

Katsuki is ripped out of his thoughts by y/n's laugh. Katsuki can't deny that it's a heartwarming sound. He scoffs. "Whatever", he mumbles to himself. Y/n walks over to him and takes his hand. She tells him something he doesn't understand and pulls him over to the fire.

Before he knows it, he is seated on the trunk and y/n hands him a bowl of stew. Y/n watches intently how Katsuki tries some of her cooking. "And? Do you like it?", she asks. Katsuki just scoffs and puts more stew in his mouth. "I guess he does", y/n thinks while taking a bowl for herself.

Katsuki doesn't eat two but three bowls of y/n's cooking. He would've preferred meat in the stew but he doesn't complain. He's actually content y/n is pulling her weight by doing something for the both of them. It doesn't go unnoticed by Katsuki that she tidied around camp, too.

After their meal, y/n and Katsuki tidy up the dishes in silence. They're working hand in hand as if they've done this already a hundred times. Afterwards, Katsuki packs away most of the stuff around camp and y/n wonders if that means he's leaving the clearing tomorrow.

Then, they sit by the fire. Y/n stares into the flames wondering what will become of her. She kind of doesn't want Katsuki to leave. Would he take her with him? Does she even want that?

Katsuki senses the woman's distress but is unsure what it's about or how he could help. Tomorrow, he would have to move camp if he wanted to catch up to that deer. He considers taking her along with him. Today, she didn't make any attempts to leave again. Maybe he could take her with him. So far, she's proven herself kind of useful and his dragon seems to like her. At least he hadn't tried to eat her while Katsuki was gone. Maybe y/n could find a place among his people. After all, every woman who becomes part of his tribe means one more chance for the next generation.

Katsuki gives her a side glance. The flickering of the fire reflects in y/n's eyes. Katsuki thinks she looks weak. Compared to the women in his tribe, she's small and there's not enough fat on her body. Living in the harsh mountains his tribe calls home, it will be hard for her to survive. Then again, she's not ugly Katsuki thinks. One of his men probably would take her on as his mate despite her obvious physical flaws.

Somehow, that thought leaves a bitter taste in his mouth and Katsuki shifts a bit. Y/n looks up and meets his gaze. She gives him a small smile. Then, carefully, she slides over and rests her head on his shoulder. Katsuki immediately stiffens but y/n doesn't seem to notice that. They sit in silence for a while and Katsuki doesn't dare to move a muscle. He would never admit it but he doesn't want to scare the woman away.

They stay until suddenly small drops of water hit their skin. "It's raining.", y/n says to herself. Katsuki pulls off his cape and puts it over y/n's head. He gets up and moves the bedroll towards the dragon. The rain is starting to pick up. The dragon lifts up its wing and Katsuki puts the bedroll safely under the wing. He gestures to y/n to move over and y/n rushes to get under the dragon's wing.

They sit on the bedroll together leaning against the dragon's tummy. Y/n listens to the drumming of the water on the dragon's skin. Along with the rain, came the cold. It creeps under the dragon's wing and y/n hurdles closer to the dragon and Katsuki in order to stay warm. Katsuki pulls the cape off of her and puts it over both of them. Y/n leans her head back onto his shoulder. Eventually, Katsuki moves his arm and puts it around her allowing y/n to huddle closer to him.

Y/n should probably be embarrassed to be this close to a man or at least ashamed since she's unmarried. However, these are standards the wandering folks don't submit to. While they get married for life, they are way relaxed when it comes to premarital things. In a way, y/n thinks, that marrying has a bigger meaning to them than to the rest of the kingdom. Her people getting married means they choose each other forever. They don't marry for wealth or politics or because their parents said so. Often, a couple stays unmarried until their first or even second child is born. Being out in the cold all the time, it happened quite often that women fell pregnant before marriage. However, there was little judgment among the group. They take the saying 'it takes a village to raise a child' quite seriously. It doesn't matter where a child comes from.

Thus, y/n feels no shame in huddling closer to Katsuki. She thinks his skin smells nice and that he is warmer than any other person she has cuddled up before. Katsuki however is a little embarrassed. Actually, it's been a while since he has been with a woman this close. For one, there aren't many women around and for second he's got more important stuff to do. His mother has plans to ensure their family's lineage thus Katsuki does not have to think about finding a mate, unlike most men in his tribe.

It's still early and both of them aren't tired enough to go to sleep. So for now, they just sit in silence listening to the rain and the raspy breath of the dragon. They're both lost in their own thoughts. About their people, the future and maybe also a little bit about each other.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

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[deadghosy]

Hi so I don’t know if you’re taking requests at the moment but a couple days ago I fell onto the concrete on my way to school and both my knee and leg were bleeding and needed one of those big patch bandaids so I was wondering if you could do like the Hazbin Hotel characters when there kid falls over and gets hurt like I did only they hurt both of their knees and they try fixing it first then they go to there parent and ask for help (no I definitely don’t struggle with asking for help what are you talking about) and they need like multiple patch bandaids on both legs, sorry if I bothered you with this request have a nice day/night

OOP I HOPE YOUR KNEE HEALS LOL! And yeah I don’t like asking for help either 🦆 also sorry if some of them are short because I didn’t write in order and kept skipping to finish other scenarios.✨

HOW THEY REACT TO CHILD! GN READER GETTING HURT:

Charlie

You were training to skateboard as you seen it on a dvd Alastor had for you. You seen how the human teens were skateboarding and wanted to do it as well.

And how did that go for you?

You fell with a face plant as you got up from the concrete from the pentagram city you known and hated for its crimes. You grumbled cursing yourself out as you kicked the damn skateboard as you wrench feeling a burning sensation in your knees to only look down and see them bleed.

At first you panicked like a dumb ass as you had a very shocked pikachu expression. But damn you didn’t want to ask mom….so you went to the hotel and go in your room grabbing some medical things.

You watched plenty of movies where they take the mc to the hospital…of course you can do this!

Time later, and you couldn’t get the hang of it as you actually tied your hands together with a wrapping bandage.

Charlie found you and snickers but grew concerned when she saw your knees. Good thing she was good at bandaging things.

So at the end it was a soft end as you had a cool skull bandage on both of your knees

LUCIFER

You were supposed to be in bed, BUT NOOO YOU WANTED TO BE A BAD ASS KID AND SAY NO!

You laid in bed with a grumpy face “fucking bed time��fuck bed times. I go to sleep when I wanna sleep…” you say under your breath. >:(

It was basically giving Eric cartman 🦆

You got out of bed as you sneak around the palace as you held your hand out letting out soft fireworks for a light source. Like hell…you didn’t wanna get caught but shit you were actually thirsty.

You went to the dinning room and go to the kitchen to grab a glass of water. You flew up with your three pair of wings and grab a glass. You smirked and turned around to find Lucifer, your father in his duck pjs tapping his foot with a raised brow.

You yelp shocked as you accidentally dropped the glass making some glass shatter as you flew to get away only to run into a wall.

At the end, you scrapped your knees by the wall somehow as the kitchen walls were brick and you slide down.

Lucifer tried to help you but you ran to your room as he sighs at his stubborn child…

“What in the world was they thinking…”

Alastor

You found out about your shadow like powers your father had and wanted to test it out as Alastor had his own shadow watch over you with a soft smile.

And how did that go for you?

It went kinda well you suppose as you did some shadow tricks and even shadow transportation.

But….

He found out you were injured before you knew yourself. His shadow grabbed you into his lap as he shakes his head in disapproval at you getting yourself at how you tried to shadow transport but ending up falling on your knees first from the air.

“My sweet little doe…you must be more responsible with your powers…” Your father said as his shadow counterpart wraps your knees in a bandage wrap

VAGGIE

You were skating around the hotel and wanted to do a 360° on the hotel stairs as you let out a gremlin laugh putting up a 🤟 as you said “YOLO!”

Cut to you on your face as your skate board is rolling away from your flat out body on the floor. Yeahh….you ate your own words as you didn’t think you would fail a sick trick.

You got up but hissed looking at your knees that has carpet burn..

“Shitttt” you said hissing still getting up as you grab a skull bandage and putting it both on your knees.

Your mom found out tho….and boy did she give you a huge lecture about skating in the hotel as you felt ashamed at making your two moms, especially the mom who is pouring peroxide on both of your knees to disinfected anything in it.

“You’re grounded from your skateboard….” “WHAT!”

Husk

“Kid the fuck happened to you…” Husk said as you had turned your back from him. Husk scoffs as his own child wasn’t responding to him. He grabbed you by the scuff of your shirt and you faced him with teary eyes.

Context: you tried to run downstairs as your favorite show was on but ended up falling down the stairs like a dumbass and slide like a cartoon character as you sobbed just laying there

Husk’s eyes soften as he sighs sitting you on the bar took grabbing a med aid kit and an alcohol wipe. Husk didn’t want to assume but he just had to say it.

“So..kid, you gettin' picked on or something?” He asked as you jolted shocked making him narrow his eyes as if it was the right answer

“What?! No! Pops I ain’t gettin picked on…”

“ then answer.” He said seriously..

You told him the truth as you promised him not to laugh at you….he laughed as you scolded him.

ANGEL DUST

Let’s just say…monkey see, monkey do.

You saw your father practicing his pol dance skills as you watch clapping and appreciating skills. Your eyes shine amazed as your father left you with some leftovers from last dinner the hotel crew had with you.

You ate waiting for your father as you hum peacefully with fat nuggets by you. Your little mind wanted to learn how to pole dance elegantly like your father.

So what did you do?

You got on that damn pole and bruised the fuck out of your knees. Literally you tried to get down safe, maybe like a fireman? As you slide down you hit your knees first than your feet as fat nuggets squealed worried for you.

Your father came in tired as he sighs. But then he instantly comes over to see what was wrong as you covered your knees with a shy smile as fat nuggets poke his cute little nose to your hands covering your knees.

You didn’t want to ask him for help as you felt ashamed for doing dumb shit but Angel takes your hands off your knees and sighed again.

“Jeez kid…if you wanted to learn the sport, ask the pro next time sweetie.” Angel says kissing your head as you nod with a soft smile

SIR PENTIOUS

You tripped on his tail falling on your two knees as the egg blitz jumped at shocked. Your father didn’t even noticed as he was just excited to make smoothies with you.

You didn’t cry…no…of course no-

You cried like a little bitch…

BUT WHO COULDN’T AS IT HURT YOU!

You held both of your knees as the egg boiz surrounded you trying to calm you down as your papa slithers by you trying to see what was wrong. One of the egg boiz named frank explained what happened. You tried to say it didn’t hurt and that you could stand up.

You stood up with wobbly bleeding knees with a weary smile as you face planted.

Yeah pentious picked you up with his tail and cried to Charlie at how he is a horrible father for harming you as you and Charlie tried to call him down.

He calmed down as Charlie helps while pentious kept asking if you were okay

ADAM

You flew into a window having glass shards in both of your knees as you let out a scream.

Cut to you being escorted by angel guards to your house as Adam was pissed and tired .

“Fuck kid…just..” he rubs his eyes as he pulled your ear inside and slamming the door to the guards.

“Ow! Dad chill the fuck out old man! Ow ow ow!” You yelled as you hid your wings while Adam grumbled with an irritated expression. Adam definitely gave you a smallest lecture while cursing you out at how he is tired of having the guards come to his door.

Adam sighs looking at your knees while you huff covering them. Adam tries to pull your hands off your knees as you flinch away from him. Now Adam was serious as he pulls your hands off your knees with force. Only for his eyes widen with shock to see your knees cut with glass shards.

“Oh you gotta be fuckin' kidding me….” Adam says as he gets up and goes to get med kit. As much as an angel can self heal in heaven. You are only a kid…so it’s kinda slow unless you are a grown adult.

“You’re gonna be the death of me you little shit..”

Lute

Lute was busy training the other angels for the next extermination as you smile eating some food your mom brought you “couldn’t whine” about be hungry. As you watch your mom be a badass, you tried to mimic her moves only to bust your cheek and fall on your damn knees as if you were praying to the lord himself.

You got up and see gold blood coming out of your knees as you covered a small scream and ran out of the room your mom was in.

She definitely heard you as she side eyed the door you left out of. Her suspicions grew when she was tracks of gold blood where you were.

She just sighed as she facepalmed and told the females to halt in their training as she flew after you.

HAH YOU MUST BE OUT OF YOUR MIND IF YOU THINK YOU CAN HIDE YOUR WOUND FROM THE BLOOD THIRSTY LUTE!

AND HER BEING YOUR MOM?! yeah fuck no…she’s immediately throwing you over her shoulder as she takes to a nurses office as you wounded yourself while she brought you to work with her….

For context, it was Bring your kid to work day…..🦆

So it kinda embarrassing having some of the angels coo at you while lute had a nonchalant face as she patches you up.

[barcaatthemoon]

tease || jenni hermoso x reader ||

jenni likes to tease.

minors dni, 18+, smut ahead.

jenni knew that she was always in your line of sight. it didn't matter what you were doing, you always kept an eye on her. you don't really remember when it started, sometime during yor stint in spain. you knew that your team wouldn't beat barcelona, but you made sure that their star striker remembered your name by the end of that game. years later, and the two of you were living in mexico and playing on the same team together.

"lo siento, yo soy muy cansado," you apologized to the reporter. you were supposed to give an interview about the game, but you couldn't focus with jenni flaunting herself 15 feet away from you. you were excused from the interview after that, and almost immediately, you found yourself pulling jenni towards the locker room.

"where's the fire, mi amor?" jenni asked with a chuckle. you turned and glared at her, something that never really worked how you wanted it to. jenni looked at you sometimes the same way that she looked at andy. everything she did for you was purely out of love, not because she feared any sort of consquences.

"you're lucky you're hot," you told her. those seemed to absolutely be the wrong words as jenni pushed the bottom of her shirt up to expose her abs. your eyes shot down to the expose skin for just a second, but it was enough for jenni to notice.

"enjoying the view?" jenni teased. you huffed and grumbled as you stormed into the showers. jenni followed you in, glad that nobody else was in the showers for the time being. "i am definitely enjoying my view."

"jenni!" you jumped at the sound of her voice. jenni just laughed as she pulled you into her arms. you tried to glance over her shoulder, but jenni just turned you around to face her.

"this view is even better." the way that jenni looked at you was nothing short of predatory. she stepped further into your space, forcing you to back up against the shower wall.

"jenni, we don't have time for this," you warned her.

"yes we do. you just have to focus," jenni said. despite her words, she still waited until you pushed her down onto her knees. you hooked a leg over the back of her neck, forcing her to stay right up against you.

your head spun with pleasure as jenni's mouth began its attack on your cunt. jenni's tongue swiped against your entrance, and the vibrations from jenni's moans made your stomach drop a little. jenni knew exactly what she was doing, each exaggerated movement and dramatic moan at the taste of you on her tongue. jenni was continuing to rile you up, just wanting to see how wet she could make you.

"jenni, i need more," you told her. jenni just hummed as she pushed a finger inside of you. it wasn't nearly enough to satisfy, but you knew that if you pushed, jenni would only pull back. she was teasing you now, solely to see how easily she could make you cum. she was trying without really trying, and your heart began to race as you thought about the possibility of having to go on with your day without cumming.

just as jenni was about to add another finger, you heard the door swing open. without hesitation, jenni ducked out from beneath your leg and moved to her own shower stall. you flicked the water from hot to cold in a vain attempt to distract yourself from your own arousal. jenni was out of the showers before you, and if anybody on the team noticed your glaring, they all pretended not to.

"what is wrong, mi amor?" jenni asked. you rushed to pack up your things and get on the bus. you sat there with your headphones on, hopeful that jenni would pick somewhere else to sit for the ride. jenni very deliberately sought you out, and you could tell from the devious look on her face that you were absolutely in for it on the way back.

[gummy-bwear]

Some Lucifer Morningstar headcanons!

-Some of his nicknames include: Luci, Lu Lu, The Morningstar and Duck Dad

-When Charlie was little he used to call her his ‘little ducking’, similar to Stolas calling Octavia ‘little starfire ’

-He dyes his wings to match his coat, because Charlie used to dye his wings and he kept up the tradition (mostly out of loneliness). They’re actually duck wings (God made his wings unique from the other angels because he was said to be God’s most beautiful creation)

-He did want to see Charlie, but he believed that she was better off without him and he didn’t want to push his way back into her life, so he waited for a long time for her to want to see him first. Hence why he was so overjoyed when he interpreted the call as her inviting him over

-Angel wings need constant upkeep (like preening) to be perfect and function properly. Lilith used to do this for him, which is seen by angels as a bonding activity only for family and close friends, but after Lilith disappeared and Lucifer was alone all the time his wings were not in any state to fly and were sensitive to the touch from not being looked after (he can’t reach the bases). He spent that hour in episode 5 trying to preen his wings and get them presentable just in case. There’s still a bit of work to be done but Charlie does help him out later

-His depression caused some memory loss issues, hence why he couldn’t remember the call from episode 1 with Charlie

-When he first arrived in Hell he despised himself for looking ‘demon-like’, thinking he had become ugly, so he tried to file down his sharp teeth. However it caused debilitating toothaches so he just used magic to make his teeth sharp again and left it

-In the family portrait from the pilot he was definitely using a step stool because he was too short for the photographers to get a good picture

-He’s a very musical person, and can play a lot of instruments

-Wears some kind of makeup to cover up how tired and sickly he looks from depression and being cooped up inside all the time

-When he was an angel he had a habit of biting his lip but when he got his sharp teeth he had to force himself to stop it because he was constantly drawing blood and injuring himself because of it

That’s all I really got, let me know some of your hc’s for this man! :)

[forthelostones]

♛ masc!reader x masc!abby - “our competitive streak” ♛ (nsfw, 18+)

round two.

CLICK ME

after you lay the ground rules for abby, she stalked you around the mat. she was inexperienced in hand to hand which gave you an advantage. however, her weight gave her hers. if she got you to the ground, you were done for. you needed to clear your mind of what you saw yesterday and get her to the ground first.

her first move came quickly as she aimed for your legs, head pressing against your waist. you plant your feet, left behind right, and push down to release her grip that came through your legs. she could've dropped you right there, those fingers squeezing your inner thighs, but she was too slow. her hands slip off your thighs like they were slick with butter. she grunts as she realizes she lost you. you bounce on your toes to twist your hips to throw a left at her which lands on her cheek. she stumbles back a little.

“come on anderson, im falling asleep.” you smile.

abby’s right hand comes up fast but you see it first and duck to land a blow on her right side. the short-tempered woman was twitching with anger and rubbing the spot you attacked. it didn’t phase you, you liked to see her angry, especially if you were responsible for her tantrum.

you throw your left foot at her calve and she bares it. she rushes forward, going for another way to get you to the floor. your head slams against the mat and for a moment your eyes close as your head bounces up. you couldn't believe she managed to get you down. she bends your leg up from the knee to press into your chest. it was evident that you didn’t stretch enough because it burned like hell and was tight. abby's hips were almost flush with yours and the thought led down a nasty road. one you shouldn't be thinking of right now.

that stupid grin she wore on her face disappeared as you shoved her off with your foot. digging it into her shoulder caused her to swear out loud and fall to her knees. just as she was going to rise, you got her on her back by tackling her down. you straddle her waist, pinning both hands above her head. she wriggles underneath you as she tries to breathe. you knew it, her endurance was shit.

she thrusted her pelvis into you, tossing you upwards to free her hands. you were inches away from her face, finally getting a closer look at her beauty and damn, she was beautiful. amid your admiration, she found her way back on top of you. her knee lying on top of your belly, closer to your lungs than you’d like.

“it was you.” she growled.

“wh—wha?” you say, breathlessly.

“you took my book.” she spat, pressing harder.

“ab, and—” you tap the mat.

she releases you and you roll over, palms down and crouching over. the tightening of your stomach was a dangerous feeling, the fear of vomiting right now was strong.

“what the fuck!” you cough.

“oh, shut up.”

“that wasn’t allowed, what’s wrong with you.”

she stood over you, looking down at you like you were so beneath her. her eyebrows raised as if she won this round fair and square. it made you burn angrily. you found the last bit of strength to come to her hips and tug her down. now your knee was in her ribs and you weren’t letting up.

“i don’t want to hurt you.” you spit.

“fuck you.” she cries with her eyes closed, mouth open.

“are you mad?” you poke.

“i have a system.” she groans.

“tap out abby, come on.” you say bored.

“no.”

you press harder and she stifles her groan between her lips. a small tear falls past her cheek onto the mat. you bend down to her ear, “are you mad that i found the one place where you show your true self. you like this, that’s why you haven’t tapped out yet. you’re fucking pathetic.”

“call me what you want.” she smiled, eyes wide.

finally, her hand came in contact with the mat. without speaking you walked over to the showers with your gym bag on your shoulder.

once the warm water touched your skin you fully relaxed. you knew in the morning your body would be stiff as all what. but you felt gratitude for the current moment. that’s until the door swung open and abby came through.

the dividers of the showers were up to just below your breast were, leaving you exposed in the draft. you've gotten used to it now but with anderson here you felt particularly vulnerable. it wasn't the cool air flowing that made your nipples hard right now, it was what transpired before. she stripped down beside you and stepped into the stall on your left side.

“there’s so many other options.” you groan.

she didn’t reply. good, you thought.

you took your washcloth and began to scrub your back, working a good lather on. abby poured a handful of shampoo and began massaging her scalp acting as if she wasn't pining you into the mat just moments ago.

“i know you took my book.”

“enough with the book abby.” you snap.

“i know that you watched me. i saw you.”

before you could breathe and speak, the silence grew stronger, and it seemed like the water was now fire. your heartbeat was accelerated and you were losing all your composure.

“a-abby, what? when i was in the library there was no one there.” you lie.

“okay, you wanna play dumb. fine. but what you saw stays between you and i.”

“or what?”

you hear her finger stop scratching her scalp. she takes a moment to rinse out the suds and turn to you. you do the same and wait for her response. her sharp eyes on you made your pussy tremble.

“you need a good fucking, don’t you?” her brows furrowed.

“abby—” you scoff.

“i know you do. that’s why you watched. any normal person would’ve left but you watched me fuck her. what are you jealous?”

“i don’t have to be jealous of anyone.”

“seems like you are,” she says leaving her shower.

she followed the wall to walk into your space. her body was even more stunning with no clothes on. her small breasts were wet with the remnants of shampoo and the dark hair between her legs was trimmed. her rock-like muscles swallowed her cunt. her body was home to freckles and stretch marks and you almost ran your tongue across your lips, she looked delicious.

“see, you can’t take your eyes off me.”

she backs you into the wall just beside the shower head. you look down at her and the darkness she had while pining you to the mat was gone. she stared at you like she was ready to devour you and you were so weak, you might let her.

“anderson, you need to leave.”

“come on,” she wraps her hands round your waist. “let’s settle this.”

it had been a long time since you even felt the touch of a woman. being tied up in your responsibilities left little pleasure to be found and fulfilled. you wanted her hands to drift lower, between your legs where there was an ache so strong you could barely stand.

“let me make you feel good.” she whispered, then slowly brought her mouth to yours, kissing it softly.

you remove her hands and turn around to rinse off your body with her eyes stalking your every move. why did a small kiss set you ablaze like this?

if abby wanted to play this game, then fine. later that night you stopped by the library to return the book. she sat at the front desk with her notepad and lamp, organizing the titles on her desk. she opened and closed them, writing the details of each book she picked up. once she heard the door close she looked up to you quickly with the novel in her hand and then back down.

she wore a pair of boxers and a white tank top that left little to the imagination. much like your own outfit — sports bra and boxers.

“hey,” you say.

“‘sup?” she doesn’t look up.

you lay the book on the table and her frown turns into a quick smile.

“i liked that book.”

you read it overnight on the day you took it. unbeknownst to you, the romance was soon overcome with plenty of smutty scenes that had you flicking pages with one hand and the other in your shorts.

“me too.”

“abby…”

clearly, she was embarrassed at the advance that she made. but you couldn’t stop thinking about what it would be like to have the woman bent over begging for you.

“look, im sorry, i didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

you slowly make your way around the desk. abby's chest falls heavily as you brush a hand up the side of her arm and sweep it upwards to her neck. where your finger lands, you kiss. you pull her backward into you, making her gasp a little.

“it’s okay.”

you mutter as you drag your hands over her breasts and start massaging them over her t-shirt. you grip them just before brushing your palm over her nipples and pressing them into her body.

“this okay?” you ask.

“fuck. yes.” she whispers.

you see her instinctively widen her legs in the chair and relax. you take your index and thumb to pinch them gently and roll them inward just before stretching them to plop back.

“don’t be embarrassed, big girl,” you say in her ear as you suck her lobe into your mouth. abby’s hands grip the arms of the chair to the point where you think she’ll snap them into two.

“you know what i liked about that book the most?”

“tell me, handsome,” she mutters heatedly.

“is the scene where the protagonist finger fucks her partner up against a window where everyone can see.”

abby barely managed a moan as she actively recalled that chapter.

your lips come into contact with a throbbing vein on her neck. you suck at it, wanting the reward of a full moan from abby before taking her deeper into the library. you push the chair out with your foot and bend down to her, you take her biceps to stand her up and lean her against the desk. you scoot her ass back so you're in between her thighs. abby grinds her hips in an attempt for some connection.

you plant your lips onto hers and slowly enter your tongue while bringing her waist closer to you. your thumbs guide you up her shirt to take it off in one swoop. your fingertips danced on her breasts again, tugging and pinching them as abby fought the desire growing in her shorts. the darkness in the center of her boxers was laughable.

"already soaked?" you ask staring into her eyes.

abby moans quietly but that won't suffice as an answer. so you grip her jaw with your dominant hand and slap her pussy twice for a proper reply.

"sorry, i didn't hear you anderson."

she mewls and covers her mouth before confessing. "yes, yes. since i last saw you, i touched myself, i couldn't help it."

you drop your hand and kiss her slowly, sucking her tongue into your mouth.

you bent your knees and lifted her off the desk, showing off all your gains. she wrapped her legs around your waist finally giving her cunt relief as it pressed against your hipbones. her arms draped over you while she peppered kisses on your neck, weakening your legs instantly.

the chaise was right where you last saw it, but you two need more space. so, once you sat her down you spread a blanket on the floor with a few pillows.

abby slipped off her boxers and that’s when you could see how desperate the woman was. her pink lips were more red now, slathered in arousal, and you hadn’t given her any satisfaction yet. almost as if she could read your mind, abby propped herself down onto the blanket. she was upright on her knees when she started to rub her body, performing for you. you hate to admit your cunt was throbbing as anderson sucked her fingers, massaged her nipples, and gripped her ass.

“you’re so pathetic.” you laughed in a friendly way.

“you’re taking too long, come here.” she says. abby lays on her stomach with her ass up in the air and back beautifully arched.

you lay your hips on top of her ass and push up. you bring her arms above her head and spread her legs a little more to position her ass cheek on your clit.

“gonna use you to feel good, ‘kay abby?” you moan.

abby just nods as you press into her. you’re so wet that your boxers are sticky and slipping easily up and down her body. your hips ride her so smoothly, humping her so hard that her body is jutting up a little. once you get a rhythm abby can’t take it anymore. “i need to taste you, please?”

“you wanna taste, beautiful? come ‘ere,”

you get up to spread your legs open on the opposite end of the blanket. abby tucks her fingers in the waistband of your boxers.

“no, i stay like this.” you correct.

she happily obeys as she flattens her tongue to make a wet stripe against the checkered fabric. a moan vibrates against your clit as abby basks in the taste of you. you shiver as she does it again, this time harder.

you take a fistful of hair and tug her back she nearly comes from that alone.

“i want you to eat my pussy, like it’s your last meal.”

she hesitates before pulling your shorts off but you allow her to. you tug on her hair more, harder, letting all your jealousy overcome you. the woman who gloated around the base was about to be tongue deep inside your cunt, you chuckle.

you lower her head and she brings her lips to yours and begins to lap up your pre-cum. finally, her lips make it to your clit where she massages it with such mechanical care. you moan, watching her lap you up.

“look at you — i wish i had a camera to show everyone on the base how good of a girl you are behind closed doors.”

you raise your hips to get her deeper between your lips. she teases your hole with the tip of her tongue before slipping it in as far as it could go. you cry out as the thick muscle penetrates you. the bump on abby’s freckled nose nudges your clit and you already feel overstimulated by the pleasure.

“fuck abby.” you whisper.

you look down to see her eyes on you, pupils dilated and hungry. she slips two fingers in so easily and without warning, curling up to your spot.

“let me swallow your cum beautiful," she said plainly before returning her tongue to your clit.

her moans get louder and the pressure inside of you gets harder and your legs tense around her body. you tuck them on her back to pull her closer. and just as you feel yourself come to your peak, abby pinches your clit between her teeth gently, making you crash so hard you twitch.

as you push her away she doesn’t stop. she keeps pumping into you and lapping at your lips until you actually cry out. she slows down and removes her fingers and brings the digits to your mouth.

she hooks her fingers gently in your mouth to pull you onto her as she lays on her back. she guides your sensitive pussy over hers without missing a beat.

you shake as you press downwards to meet her bulging clit. the pearl was so wet and erect that your mouth watered at the thought of sucking it. abby closes her eyes and finally finds some relief. her sighs are not shy and she freely groans with each stroke you make.

“you want mommy to cum on this cunt?” you ask.

“hmmhm. y-yes.”

so, you get to work. you lean down further to take a nipple into your mouth and slap your cunt onto hers and then move upwards to slip over her clit.

abby moans your name so recklessly and you suddenly wish the whole base could hear. hell, she's so loud you think they might.

“you’re so desperate. how long you been wanting me? a month? a year… two?”

“since… i … saw you.” she admits and you thump her harder.

“you like watching me, huh? imagining how i’d fuck. such an easy girl, aren’t you?”

“i am. i am.” she’s gone.

you feel another one coming so you increase your speed. thrusting into abby as she’s doing the same back — and just to think you two were both in a simular position hours ago.

abby could only grunt as her hips came into contact with yours. her body nearly vibrated as she was preparing for her release. you pull her thighs up and push them back to get the closest connection possible. you slipped your clit between her lips and nudged against hers as you both erupted.

someone could’ve thought a runner was mutilating you both in here by the way abby nearly screamed. you covered her mouth and fucked her until you both couldn't take it.

🏷 @bookpagecandlescent ; @lesbian-useless ; @ghgygd ; @maneskinwh0re

[1d1195]

Ding - Round 7

Read Ding here | ~4.6k words

Warnings: punching, fighting, fixing my cliff hanger from the previous part.

From me: This is the last part, but I tried to keep the ending open a bit so I could come back if you want 💕 thanks for reading this one. Hope you liked it!

Summary: Harry isn't the only one fighting the night of the biggest match of his career.

Three minutes.

Each round was three minutes.

She thought over the last few months of watching Harry train had engraved a three-minute timer into her internal clock. Like her mind was able to simultaneously count out 180 seconds and continue working on whatever project she was tasked with at the time.

The crowd was so loud—just several feet behind a door. She thought about her phone. The one she left with Niall so it wouldn’t get lost while she tried to get towels, food, and use the restroom. Alongside Harry’s phone. Part of her believed even if she could have used it, Niall wouldn’t have heard it anyway. She straightened her back, standing taller and preparing herself. She pulled against his grip on her arm. Her heart was pounding but she felt it in her bones.

She could do this. She had to do this.

She heard Harry’s voice teaching her all the self-defense moves she had practiced for months in the back of her head. She thought about the classes, the training in her living room.

The goal isn’t to win. S’not a boxing match. Want t’minimize you getting hurt. Your only goal is t’get away safely. If y’get away, you’re gonna come find me, Cupcake. M’not gonna let anything happen t’you.

“What’s your problem?” She snapped.

“You told other girls about me?”

“No, I warned them.” He narrowed his eyes as he stared at her.

“You’re a bitch.” She tried to keep the nerves from getting to her.

She could run out the back door and try her best to get to the front again. Harry would understand. It would be better than being the sitting duck she was now. There was the whole no phone thing but at least the security guard would recognize her. He would keep an eye on her. No way he’d be willing to face the wrath of Harry for not doing so.

She pulled on her arm again trying to loosen his grip. She thought about the shower she took after their date. If it could really be called a date. Despite everything happening in the moment she had the intense desire to look up the definition of date because that could nothave been a date. A date had to have some sort of mutual feeling of companionship or amicable emotion. The way his body felt on hers made her skin crawl.

She didn’t want it then and she didn’t want it now.

“Let go,” she ordered.

“You’re—”

“I said let go,” she pulled hard, dragging both of them further back into the room but closer to the backdoor.

“Stop—”

“Let go, or you’ll regret it.”

He chuckled; it sounded sarcastic. Disbelief evident in his tone—even his short laughter. “What are you going to do?” He taunted. Honestly, part of her wanted to know the same thing. What was his plan? Attack her alone in the back of this place? It was obvious. Niall would come looking for her sooner or later. Someone would come back here because they needed towels. It was a matter of when not if. All she needed to do was hold him off.

Fortunately, she had been given all the lessons on how to do just that.

“Let go,” she repeated, feeling stronger than that awful night and more so than she had in the months since. “Harry—”

“Your boyfriend is busy.”

With a deep breath, she realized she had lost count of the seconds. Was the round over? She didn’t know. But she knew Harry was safe. Harry would never fuck around with consent. He said so himself. Harry was going to rip Jack’s arm off. Hell, Harry would rip his own arm off if she asked him to.

She narrowed her eyes at him. Clenched her jaw and yanked on her wrist in his hand again. “If you don’t let go, he’s going to see. Then you’ll wish you never touched me,” she vowed.

He smiled darkly. “He’s not going to see,” he promised.

Despite how much stronger she felt than the day she met him, she was still scared. Her stomach twisted; nausea ensued. There was a genuine fear growing inside her that felt very similar to how it felt right before she thought was going to throw up. The feeling rose to her throat, and it took all her control to swallow it back down. She inhaled deeply through her nose and brought all the steps and moves Harry had taught her in the self-defense classes to the forefront of her mind.

Jack was bigger, stronger, and way more terrifying than she was.

But she was determinedto get away.

“Let. Go.” She ground her teeth together tugging on her arm that she knew was going to bruise.

“Just—”

“I’m going to scream,” she could see the irritation on his face as she continued to interrupt him.

“Don’t you dare you stupid, little—”

She was glad her dominant hand was free and used it smashed her palm into his nose so hard she felt a crunch and was immediately met with a stream of blood. It poured immediately on her hand, and she should have been more grossed out but before she could think about it for long, she bolted back for the main room.

He groaned loudly but chased after her. He reached her at the door, grabbed her arm, and flung her back to the ground. She yelped as her body landed with a thud. Her head hit the ground making her wince involuntarily. She could hear people cheering. No one would hear her if she screamed. He knew that.

Harry wouldn’t get to her.

The mere thought terrified her.

She kicked. Making minimal contact with some part of him but did leave him incapacitated for just a moment—a moment she needed. He cursed lowly under his breath. Her mind was working at the same slow pace she crawled and clawed at the ground, blood dripping on her shirt from his nose as he stood over her clutching his groin. Harry told her the most vulnerable position she could be was defending herself on her back. She was mortified. Her adrenaline screamed through her veins.

The announcer was calling something about Harry and the match. There’s a ding, ding, ding signaling the end of the round or the beginning of the next. She didn’t know anymore. All she knew was she wanted to be in there. She wanted Harry to see her. She was certain he would stop in the middle of a round for her.

“You broke my nose,” He snarled.

It took every ounce of her self-restraint to keep her mouth from saying good with a smug smile. Her heart was in her throat. Clawing uselessly at the floor knowing she wasn’t going to get anywhere at that rate. She kicked again, trying to remember the training and the moves Harry made her practice in her apartment. Her instinct was taking over and arguably making it worse for her just as Harry had warned.

The air suddenly felt so thin. It was difficult for her to keep breathing steady—scared and anxious out of her mind. She could see little black dots in her vision with anxiety taking over. The roar of the crowd made everything she needed to do impossible to focus on.

But the little voice in her head had a nearly melodic British accent now. Slow, steady. Encouraging.

It screamed at her to get up and keep going.

She slammed her foot into his leg, just at his knee, knocking him off balance. He landed just as hard as she did. She knew he was going to get up quick, so she needed to be quicker. She leapt from the floor and burst through the double doors. She sprinted toward the ring. He was hot on her heels she could feel it, but she didn’t stop—couldn’t stop. Not when security shouted at her and not when the attention of people watching finally got them yelling for her.

She told Harry earlier that day she wasn’t lucky. But at that moment she was. Perhaps the luckiest person ever. She felt it in her bones, and she planned to thank every divine spirit in the universe when she reflected on it later. There was the briefest moment in every round right after the bell rang where there was the slightest down pitch in volume as the cheering stopped and people waited to see who would make the first move in the ring.

That moment happened the second she was close enough for her voice to carry the final distance to Harry. “Harry!” Her voice was cracked and broken but she knewhe heard it just because of the volume of her shriek. She believed everyone in the arena heard it.

She wasn’t quiet about it; just like Harry (and Louis) taught her. Her voice was so loud even the referee looked over and watched as the man chasing her grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her back to the floor. Her head hit hard against the hardwood. Stars reappeared in her vision, and she wondered if this was what a concussion felt like. For a moment she was stunned. Forgot that she was supposed to be fighting for her safety. Defending herself. The seconds ticked by so slowly, she wondered if she was going to pass out. There was a deafening quiet, muffled shouting; like a scene in a movie where the hero is aware of her surroundings but can’t quite get a grasp on it.

It was weird it was happening to her in real time, and she blinked rapidly trying to get her vision to focus and her hearing to return. But she was able to register in her confused mind that she was in the main arena. Because even if Harry didn’t hear her, she knew that everyone saw him take her down to the floor.

That was the goal. To get away and find a crowd.

She did it.

“You stupid, fucking bit—” the sound came roaring back so loudly it felt like he was shouting right in her ear. But he was standing above her again still dripping blood on her clothing. His face was in her vision for half a second. But that was all he got. Half a second. It wasn’t an exaggeration. Her heart was flying so fast, so she knewhis smug expression was hardly in her scattered vision for a mere fraction of a second. Not even one whole beat thudded against her ribcage and then he was gone.

Once more someone was standing over her, but unlike moments before, she felt so utterly safe.

Harry was there. Like some Greek god scorned. She almost felt bad for Jack. Because the thought of being on the receiving end of the look she could only imagine Harry was giving made her shiver. Half-naked, his black shorts, his black gloves hung at his hips, and she could tell his hands were balled into tight fists inside his gloves. She could see the rise and fall of his shoulders even at her angle. The heaving breaths he was taking.

Briefly, he turned his neck, to look at her over his shoulder. His eyes were furious and wild. There was a cut on his eyebrow again—probably the same one that kept reopening without the proper time to heal. She could see the redness on his ribcage starting where she knew he’d be bruised like a peach in the morning. His jaw was sharp, teeth gnashed together, lip curled in a terrifying snarl.

He turned back to him, on the ground, holding his face with blood still pouring from his nose. “You goddamn piece of fucking shit,” he growled.

The adrenaline in her veins stopped working overtime. With Harry standing over her, his feet shoulder width apart straddled on either side of her legs she felt herself relax. He was ready to fight—of course he was. He was in the ring only moments ago. His stance was itching to punch someone. He had that look in his eye that he had in the first round. But now it could have been the fifth or six round that she had interrupted. She didn’t know because she wasn’t there to see and lost track of counting the seconds. “What did you do to her?” He snarled.

Reason began to return to her mind. Harry was going to kill him—which would really put a damper on their night if he went to jail or something. “Harry,” her voice broke hoping that maybe he’d just let it go. She was safe now.

But she also knew it was well past the point of return for her boyfriend. Someone hurt her. He saw it.

Harry wouldn’t take it lightly. Couldn’t. He promised her dad. He promised her.

“Harry,” Louis hissed sensing the same thing that she did.

“Oh shit,” Niall hurried to her. “Are you alright, Cupcake?” he cooed gently and tugged her from beneath the arms and out from under Harry’s threatening stance. Niall held her the way she wanted Harry to hold her. His hands were on her cheeks, assessing her quickly, searching for a signal that she was okay. “Is this you?” He asked, looking at the blood all over her shirt as he searched for the injury that caused it.

Harry was still heaving, waiting for his opportunity. Her voice was dead in her throat trying to answer Niall but the only word that would leave her mouth was Harry’s name. It made him even angrier; terrified and hurt that she was possibly hurt. So hurt she couldn’t respond to Niall’s question—a question that Harry wanted her to answer just as badly.

“She broke my fucking nose,” he growled, eyes intent on her even though he nearly had to peer around Harry to look at her.

The whole arena froze.

She couldn’t see Harry’s face any longer, but she could sense a pleased smile was on his lips. Niall glanced away from checking her over as the smile passed over his lips as well. Hiding how happy he was that the blood was not hers. Louis, despite how pissed he was at Harry, couldn’t help the little smile that graced his face, either; proud that she used his lessons to help herself.

She swore everyone in that arena was smiling.

Harry turned back to her in Niall’s arms and winked at her. “That’s my girl,” he said proudly.

In spite of how scared she was, how sad she was, how much her head hurt… nothing but pride filled her body in that moment.

Then Harry lunged for him.

*

It took Niall, Louis, and Harry’s opponent from the ring to pull him away from pummeling him beyond recognition. Niall had nearly dropped her after he lunged. Grabbing his arms before he could do more damage than two punches. Louis suffered at least one punch to the face himself which she was sure was going to be returned in kind during Harry’s next training session. It would probably do Louis wonders to just punch Harry once and for all.

But naturally, it was her that stopped him. Her head ached and she wanted to lie down but she stood anyway. As Harry fought tooth and nail to be released from the hold of his friends and opponent, she stepped in front of him catching his murderous gaze. “Harry please,” she pleaded her eyes watery with all kinds of emotions coursing through her. She was wobbly on her feet, and she felt a little nauseous fearing her head injury was worse than she thought without all the adrenaline flowing through her. She put a hand on her head and winced in pain while trying to keep herself from swaying in front of him.

There were police and security guards and all kinds of shouting. But Harry finally saw her, his breath was shallow, his opponent from the ring was standing in front of him as well; a gloved hand pressed to his chest while Niall and Louis held each arm forcing him back. But it was her voice, her tear-filled eyes, that made him stop. His breathing started to slow. He swallowed hard, glaring at the opponent he wanted more than the one that was in the ring only a few moments earlier.

He gave Louis and Niall a shove. “M’alright,” he snapped and pushed his opponent out of the way. Within two seconds she was in his arms. Feet floating off the ground and he swore he never heard the crowd cheer for him the way they did then.

Harry didn’t even revel in it. He loved boxing. It was cathartic for him. Competitively, he was good at it. But he wanted nothing more than to not be in that arena and never come back. Her body was warm against his skin. He was cool with sweat. “Let’s go, Cupcake,” he murmured in her ear and started back for the locker room.

*

Harry was disqualified from his match. A single “1” in his loss column that upset her more than it did him. He was icing her hand and arm where his fingerprints left bruises. He kept rubbing her shoulders, her temples, and any of her muscles that ached in her back without the hormones that dulled her senses during her own fight. The intensity of it all, all that adrenaline subsided and made her body crash. All her muscles ached with the notion something happened.

And she stopped it.

Harry, despite everything, could not stop smiling as if she had boxed her own match and won. “I’m so proud of you, Cupcake,” he murmured and kissed the back of her achy head. It was sore from where it hit the floor (twice—once harder than the other). Louis deduced she did have a concussion; so, Harry was doting on her as if his life depended on it. Now that they were home in his apartment, he was much calmer—surprisingly. Granted, inside his home was safe. She imagined anywhere in public he was going to turn into a bit of a crazy person when it came to her safety. Honestly, she couldn’t wait to see him in action. She didn’t want him to act insane, but the worry was nice in his own way. (Plus, she was pretty certain she could get him to relax with the promise of kisses.) “When you’re able to, I want to know everything.”

“I don’t like punching,” she told him wrinkling her nose even though he couldn’t see her. He chuckled.

“I know, kitten.” He shifted her in his lap so she was propped against the armrest of his sofa, her legs strewn across his thighs. Now he could see her face. His smile was lazy, adorable, boyish once more. Hard to believe someone so cute could be terrifying when needed.

“I broke his nose,” she reminded him quietly.

“I know, Cupcake,” he answered tiredly. His own body was sore, his mind exhausted. She could see him practically snoring while talking his eyes turning to slits as he tilled his head against the back of the couch. One arm draped over the front of her body protectively. His other hand pulled at her hair gently as possible, massaging her scalp where he knew that horrible, moronic man yanked it hardest when she was running from him. “M’so proud of you,” he murmured.

Her cheeks turned pink under his praise, but she remained silent for a moment. “I’m sorry you were disqualified,” her frown was deep.

“Kitten,” he tutted opening his eyes at the same time, a renewed sense of energy had him looking at her with such disapproval. He leaned forward and kissed her softly on the cheek. “Nothing’s important as you,” he promised, a frown touching his lips.

“But you were undefeated, it bothers me.”

“I know,” he closed his eyes again—maybe the smallest part of him feeling bad for himself. “But it doesn’t bother me, Cupcake. I’d rather lose m’undefeated record for this than ever let something happen t’you. Rather have a losing record. Far as m’concerned, m’still undefeated. Honestly, y’should see the other guy,” he smirked ruefully. She watched his gentle breathing, felt the soft pull of her hair on the back of her head, and she bit the inside of her cheek.

“I wish I could’ve—”

“Uh-uh, Cupcake,” he interrupted, his voice quietly on the edge of sleep. His mind reeled with the thoughts from the locker room.

Harry paced, still angry beyond belief. He settled her on the bench that he usually sat on after a fight. His doctor and Louis looked her over. “She hit her head hard on the ground,” Louis murmured looming over the doctor’s shoulder as he examined her eyes. Harry punched the locker nearby creating a dent the size of his glove. She flinched at the sound as he paced. The doctor didn’t move.

“Twice,” she offered weakly.

Twice? He growled low in his throat. Niall was right beside him in case he tried to make a break for it and find him again. Niall planned on tripping Harry worst case scenario to keep him from leaving.

“Twice?” Louis repeated curiously. “Shit, babe,” he frowned. Harry punched the locker two more times, making her flinch again. “Harry, she’s already scared out of her mind,” he snapped angrily. Harry was still pacing. Niall paced alongside him, trying to keep him calm. Her eyes locked on Harry as he paced, and the doctor looked her over. She felt like she was blinking a thousand times per second. But she couldn’t tear her gaze away from Harry.

“Do you have any other injuries?” The doctor asked. She shook her head.

“Just my head.”

“You’re sure? This is a lot of blood.”

Harry growled again. She glanced at him nervously again. “S’not mine,” she whispered reassuringly.

The doctor smirked, patted her knee as he nodded. “Good girl. Harry, you taught her well,” he assured. “Ice. Harry, I am to presume you’ll be her bedside nurse? Concussion protocol, wake her tonight, every couple hours, and pain meds. Call me if there’s an issue.”

Harry was still fuming. “Can y’drive her car t’my place?” He asked Niall. He nodded solemnly, afraid of angering him further. “Get these off me,” he held out his hands feeling frustrated that Niall didn’t move faster to get them off. He wanted to cradle her face and massage her achy muscles. He wanted to kiss her pain away and hold her until he felt she was better. She was only vaguely aware of his frustration. Louis was tending to her while Niall cut the tape off his wrists, nipping his skin with the scissors because Harry refused to sit still.

“Here you are, love,” Louis was gentle, cupped the side of her head as he sat in front of her and placed an ice pack on the back of her achy skull. She blinked unsurely, eyeing Louis suspiciously.

“Do you hate me?” She asked, tears filled her vision without her realization, and she heard Harry snort.

“Jesus Christ, Cupcake,” she could hear the way his eyes rolled. Niall snorted.

Louis chuckled, shook his head. “Not at all, babe, why?”

“He lost because of me.”

“He could lose a thousand times because of you,” he assured her. “Your safety is most important.”

She took a deep breath and sighed. “He’s late because of me too.”

“He was late before you came along,” he promised. “Also, I like those Oreo brownies you make more than him,” he winked.

Harry smiled as she did. He could see her adding it to her mental list of goodies she would need to make.

“Harry, baby?” She whispered. Pulled him from his thoughts—fortunately so. He didn’t want to think about how much her head hurt.

“What, Cupcake?”

“I love you.” He smiled up at the ceiling, eyes still closed. Like it was new to him to hear her say it and it was just his dream telling him she loved him.

Right as he inhaled to say it back, his phone rang beside him. One eye peeled open and then the other as he looked at the number. “’Lo?” He asked, pressing the speaker button.

“Hey, Harry?” The voice at the other end asked. She didn’t recognize it.

“Speaking...”

“Is your girl okay?” He asked.

Harry looked at the phone curiously, he glanced at her and then back at the phone. “Yeah. She’s fine. Broke his nose.”

“Good girl,” his voice was quiet, but there was an air of pride in it as well. She blushed at the compliment, remaining silent while she listened in.

“Yeah... Listen... s’been a long night. Can y’tell me what y’want? Was it t’gloat?”

Her lips parted, realizing the man at the other end that earned the coveted one in Harry Styles’ loss column. Because of her. (Although she knew Harry would tell her it wasn’t her fault if she said that out loud.) “Right, sure. Sorry. Listen... M’glad she’s alright. Sorry it happened. But... anyone with a brain and two eyeballs knew that wasn’t a fair loss. Anyone would have stopped in the middle of our match. Hell, I almost stopped for her,” Harry waited for the point of saying all this. He squeezed her shoulder and brushed his lips across her cheek. “So... I want a rematch.”

Harry straightened, his hand falling limp behind her back. “A rematch?”

It was quiet. “I want to win the right way.”

Harry smiled; excitement danced in his eyes. Gently, he squeezed her knee. “Y’mean lose the right way,” he taunted.

He chuckled on the other end of the line. “We’ll see, I guess. Yeah?”

Harry hung up. He turned to her, kissed her on the forehead, and smiled. “What do y’say? Y’still want t’be m’good luck charm, Cupcake?” He pulled her into his lap and buried his face into her neck. Like he belonged there.

“You still think I’m a good luck charm? After today? Hell, since the day I met you? I’ve been nothing but a headache. Clay is dented because of me. You had to teach me how to defend myself. I’m whiny and injured and—”

Harry didn’t seem to register anything she said at all. “M’the luckiest man alive t’have you, Cupcake. Will y’be m’good luck charm, still?”

She stopped listing her faults. It didn’t seem worth her time. “Of course, Harry,” she smiled.

“Y’think I can go the distance?” He asked.

Honestly, the thought of Harry getting punched for twelve full rounds still scared her. It was a lot for her to watch him do five or even three. “Maybe not all twelve,” she hedged with a giggle. “Want you in one piece at the end, baby,” she reminded him.

“Ye of little faith,” he frowned, grumbling. She giggled and Harry couldn’t help but smile at her. His lips quirked into a shy grin, and he pressed his face back into the crook of her neck. “Well, one round?” He asked. She swore she heard the bell in his voice as he asked. The start of a new fight, a new set.

“No,” she shook her head, pressed her lips to his hair just next to his ear. The only space she could reach while he was tucked in her neck. “I’ll go the distance with you,” she assured him.

Maybe the concussion was playing tricks on her. But she swore she heard a bell as he smiled against her skin.

Ding.

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[dizscreams]

HI HI HI CAN YOU PLS FO JACK CHAMPION X READER WHERE JACK REACTS TO READER CRYING BECAUSE THEY SAW AN OLD PERSON EATING BY THEMSELVES AT ON THEIR DATE AND JACK KINDA LAUGHS AT HER AND TEASES HER FOR IT🙁🙁🙁🙁BTW I LITERALLY LOVE YOUR POSTS AND EVERYTHING YOU DO MWUAH💋💋💋💘💘💘💘

THIS IS CHAOS AND I LOVE IT SO MUCH HAHA (ILYT BAE!!)

“I LOVE YOU MORE EACH DAY!”

— Jack Champion ★

PAIRING: Jack Champion x Fem!Reader

A/N: catching up on requests and TYSM FOR 900+ FOLLOWERS WTF! <333

TAGS: @xyzstar @evanpeterswifeyy868 @wenvierismycomfort @aesthetixhoe @aqellano @dizzyscreams @beary-rambles @ashlesys-blog @ang3lik @c8rdigan @teyamsgirll @h34rtsformilli @wekiamo @mbankfav

“Jack, look-” You came to a hault and since Jack was holding your hand he stopped too. He had to put his other hand on your shoulder to keep himself from tripping over you. You were staring at an old lady feeding ducks and eating by herself on a bench. You guys had gone to the beach then went to a nearby park that also had a lake as well. It was Jacks cute idea of a date.

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

“She’s all alone, it’s so sad.” He heard a sniffle come from you and he quickly lowered his head to look at you. You were crying. Jack tried hard to contain his laugh but he couldn’t help it, “Are you crying?” “Don’t laugh at me you big idiot! This is sad!” You said shoving him slightly. “I’m sorry, but there’s no need to cry! I’m sure she’s fine, let’s go you big baby,” he said pulling your hand and trying to walk away.

But you didn’t move, instead you pouted up at him, “I’m not a baby. Just imagine getting old and not having anyone to feed the ducks with.”

He slung his arm around your shoulder, “Well luckily I won’t have to worry about that cause I’ll have you to feed the ducks with.” You shook your head and grabbed an apple out of the picnic basket you guys had brought with you. “Baby, what are you doing?” Jack asked with a sigh. You didn’t answer him though, instead you handed Jack the basket and walked towards the lady.

Jack watched you curiously as you handed her the apple. The old lady seemed grateful and he watched as you two started talking. You looked happy and so did she. Jack watched you in awe. You were so caring and the way that the sun was perfectly capturing your beauty had him grinning even more. He waited patiently for you as you finished up your conversation with the old lady and walked back up to him excitedly.

“She was happy.” Was all you said and he nodded with a chuckle. You still had a few small tears on your face so he softly grabbed your face and wiped them off. He kissed your head and grabbed your hand again, “Lets go.” You smiled at him and began walking with him. “Though that was cute I still think you’re a cry baby,” he teased. “Jack!” You exclaimed punching his shoulder playfully.

“You’re so mean,” you told him.

He gave you an offended look with his mouth slightly open, “I am not mean. I’m actually really kind-“

“So, why didn’t you go up to the old lady and talk to her?” You questioned.

Jack looked at you and then looked at the concrete not having an answer for you and you laughed. “That’s what I thought.”

“That’s what I thought,” he mimicked you as he tried to hold back his laugh. He failed and laughed as he felt your burning gaze on him. “You’re an idiot, Jack Champion.”

“But I’m your idiot,” he said wiggling his eyebrows and you shoved yourself into his side causing him to stumble slightly.

He shook his head with a laugh, “I’m in love with you, did you know that?” You bit back your smile and looked away from him and instead looked at the lake, “Yeah, you only tell me every day.”

For the rest of the walk you guys were in a comfortable silence holding each others hands and just enjoying each others company.

RAAHHH SHORT AND SWEET

[ddejavvu]

reader wearing reallyyy low cut tank tops (bonus points for tight push up bras too) waiting for roommate!spencer to make a move 😮‍💨

today is multiverse monday! send me any au you can think of :)

this went a little haywire.. i'm not really sure how to label this?? she plans this out, she wants him to do something to her, but she pretends it was just an accident, and she does verbally consent after he makes a move but he doesn't know that she's planned it so it's iffy? like it's all completely consensual there's just some blurred lines in there, so please, this is your warning just in case, if you think that'll make you uncomfortable, do not read this.

this post is 18+, minors dni.

Spencer's smarter than most. He's logical, he evaluates situations before jumping in, and he's quick to catch a lie. That's why you're so nervous about engineering a crisis.

There's a chair in your bedroom with a space beneath it. It's a rocking chair with squeaky hinges, and the dowels between the legs are just low enough to the ground for you to be stuck beneath. In reality, if you rolled your shoulders in and ducked your head, you'd be out in a second. But being stranded in a tight skirt with skimpy panties and a push-up bra while you beg Spencer to help you sounds much more appealing.

"Spencer!" You shout, taking a deep breath, here goes nothing.

The chair faces your door, so he sees you face-to-face when he comes in. He stops short in the doorway, eyes desperately glued to your sheepish smile as he tries not to let them fall to your amplified cleavage.

"I'm stuck," You whine, as if it isn't obvious.

"Oh, uh- okay," He steps forward, looking like every step costs him a year off his life, "Are you- does it hurt?"

"Not really," You wriggle your hips experimentally, and his teeth clench, “Will you help me?”

“Yeah, yeah, uh- yeah.” He stammers, rushing for the back of the chair. He’s greeted with an obscene view of your ass, and you’re guessing he can see the curve of your cunt through your panties. You hear him kneel, one of his knees cracks, then you wait for him to make his move.

You’re expecting hands on your shoulders, maybe even one pushing your head down flush to the carpet. Your stomach swarms with butterflies at the thought of being pinned by Spencer, but they seem to multiply in thousands when he actually makes a move.

You feel something soft, wet, and hot against your thighs. You let out an involuntary gasp as he licks at the crease between your thigh and your cunt, feeling his nose press against your panties.

“I’m sorry,” He whimpers, speaking against your clothed pussy, “I- I need-”

“More,” You gush, arching your back to push your cunt further into his face, "Please, Spence, I need more."

He doesn't even seem to register your panties there, tongue lapping fruitlessly against the fabric. You're not sure if you're soaked from his spit seeping through the fabric or because you're starting to get wet, but either way, you're dripping. He seems to notice, too, finally yanking your panties aside.

"Oh- oh my god," He groans, finally tasting your slick on his tongue as it pours from your cunt, "I- I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Shut up," You beg, only nudging yourself further and further back onto his face, "Just keep going!"

"But I didn't ask!" He delves further into your cunt, tongue dipping through your folds and pressing hot to your core, "And that's not fair, you're- you're stuck, and-"

"I'm not stuck," You scoff, face buried in the carpet, cheek-first, "I did this on purpose, Spence! I wanted you to fuck me!"

You feel the exact moment that he freezes. Tongue posed hot and wet in your cunt, he slowly pulls away, and you hear him lick his lips.

"You're not stuck?" He asks, and you would kill to see the look on his face.

"No," You wriggle your shoulders, showcasing the give you have beneath the dowel, "Spence, please, just keep going."

"No," He decides, reaching for your hips. He hauls you out from under the chair with impressive strength, and you can barely yelp before you're tossed face-down on your mattress, the springs bouncing your body, "No, you wanted me to fuck you, so I'm gonna fuck you."

[lovezbrownies]

Hide and Seek. (Yandere Queen x GN!Reader.)

Masterlist

Synopsis: First you hid from the queen, as she seeked. Then you both hide as the queen's assistant seeks you two.

Queen Nia x GN!Reader

Warnings: Panicking, oveethinking, interruptions, heavily suggestive at the very end. MDNI.

She felt crazy. Nia couldn’t find you anywhere! And she kept going in circles! She’d search the entirety of Khas, then she’d think “What if they went into one of the rooms I just left?” And search all over again. It’s been two hours and she’s starting to get depressed, are you hiding away from her? Did she do something to upset you? You should know by now Nia doesn’t mean to upset you, she just doesn’t know how to talk normally. Please please please pleas– “Ah! Hannah!!” Nia caught sight of her favored assistant, she literally did everything for her, she barely works with Hannah there.

Hannah turned to see her queen, bowing softly as she looked down at Nia, clipboard in hand.Queen Nia let out a tired breath, “Have you seen my loved one? I’ve been searching all over the place and I cannot for the life of me find them!” A frown was on Nia’s face, her arms crossed, her foot tapping impatiently against the marble floors. 

“Ah they’re at the park with the ducks at the moment.” Hannah stated plainly.

Nia scoffed, “We don’t have a park or ducks in the palace, silly!”

Hannah rolled her eyes, well obviously. “Why yes, we don’t. I let them go out to a recently opened park somewhere near the palace.” Nia gasped, no way she let you go out! And Nia thought Hannah was smart but since hearing this her outlook on Hannah is completely different. Oh goodness, her poor darling is probably distraught, oh my what if you were getting hit on? What if some random person strikes a small conversation with you?! Oh heavens! “Well, where is this so-called park! I need to save my darling from idle chit-chat!”

A smirk came across Hannah’s face, this all was revenge, because the day before Nia had called one of Hannah’s new ideas stupid and she did not take kindly to that. So, Hannah took you out to the aforementioned park. Spoke with you for a while, what a delightful person you are, and then went back to the palace, anticipating Nia to immediately bombard her with questions of where you currently were. Now this is the part where she finally gets her sweet revenge. “Well, my queen, don’t be so rash! You’re still 28, you cannot possibly show your face to the public now can you? Maybe have some faith in your love and let them come back on their own!”

Queen Nia huffed, stomping away to her room. Nothing is going to stop her today! She will save you from the dreaded short awkward conversations you always complain of! Who is she, as your wife, if she won’t sacrifice her dignity for you! Picking up the old cloak, the same one she used to go and see you before she married you. And went through that old passage she used to take to sneak out and see you. Now. She only has to find that pesky park! Although scared, she will persevere to save her spouse!

But thankfully, as soon as she stepped off the ladder to the outside world she bumped into someone she couldn’t see due to the hood that is hiding her face, Nia scoffed loudly. They spoke up, “S-sor- Wait, Nia? Is that you?” Nia froze, pulling the hood off she saw her angel! How independent you are! Her sweet dove! “Ah my darling! I was so worried that someone had forced you to chit-chat with them, but it seems like you already had given them a piece of your mind and moved on, right?” You were still so confused, she allowed you to go out after all, or that’s what Hannah had told you before accompanying you to that park.

You enjoyed your time, Hannah gave you some bird seed to feed the ducks and spoke with you for a while before going back. You tried to avoid other people, you didn’t like to speak to strangers at all, but you did meet this guy who you had bonded with over feeding the cute ducks. It doesn’t matter who they were since you didn’t share contact information. “What? Nia what? Didn-'' Nia gasped, suddenly realizing where you two are.

“Oh dear! Let’s get back to our room, or else the guards might hear us! Don’t want to get another lecture from the Chief of Police again now do we?” Nia grabbed your wrist and pulled you towards the ladder, “Come, let’s continue this in our room, I want to hear every detail of your amazing bravery!” Pushing you towards the ladder she motioned you to go first, even trying to pick you up and help you up but alas she’s still far too short and weak.

Once you two finally reached your shared bedroom, Nia launched herself onto her bed, twisting her body over to where you were sitting, a reading chair next to a big bookshelf, her head on her hands, she smiled widely, waiting for your amazing adventurous story. “Well, my love, do go on!” You sigh, drinking up a cup of water you opened your mouth, ready to speak your mind. “So the duck-” A knock interrupted you before you could even begin. Maybe this palace was cursed. You can barely speak a word in this palace without being cut off.

Nia jumped up, pulling you up from the chair she pushed you into the bathroom, gesturing at you to stay quiet. As she closed the bathroom door, the door to the bedroom opened, someone called out, “My queen?” It was Hannah. Nia could barely hold her giggles, she took you by the hand, whispering in your ear, “Stay quiet, but go lay down in the bathtub.”

You nodded, doing as you’re told, this was a little fun you must admit. Nia has her quirks but she makes life fun to live in. She stepped behind the tub’s curtains, closing them slowly so as to not create any noise. Even though there was enough space in the big bathtub for her to lay beside you she decided to just lie down on top of you, cuddling into you, almost purring at how nice you smell.

You heard the closet doors opening and closing, Hannah’s footsteps getting closer and closer, while you were focused on not getting caught Nia was focused on getting your attention back. Huffing as she saw you eye at the curtains, you weren’t looking at her! And that was something she decided to change, she began rubbing parts of your body as sensually as she can, you looked down at Nia, a devious smile on her face. “Nia wha-” Nia shushed you, “Stay quiet, don’t wanna get caught getting steamy in front of Hannah.” 

Just as she says this one of her hands made its way down to your crotch, she rubbed your crotch harshly once and then tiny feathery touches here and there, you squeaked as she played with you through your clothes. You slammed your hand against your mouth when you heard the bathroom door clicking open. “Nia? Are you here?” Hearing that Hannah had finally come into the bathroom Nia grabbed and rubbed at your crotch harsher than she did before, making it hard not to let out the lewdest of moans.

The evil queen had suddenly stopped, leaving you needy, softly thrusting up to her hand, wanting more. Nia, still grinning wildly, shook her head in disagreement. As soon as Hannah sighed in exasperation and you both heard the bedroom door closed, Nia immediately went back to work, leaving you a mess in the bathtub. Nia sat up, straddling your lap, she reached over and turned on the water nozzle. “Whoops, looks like we gotta take off our clothes and shower together~” You two spent a long while in that tub.

[ninsletamain]

Happy B-day to one of the sweetest people I know @quarantineddreamer! Much love from myself and @frostbitepandaaaaa!

We hope you enjoy your gift! A certain someone told me you’d like an X-Files AU. (:

“I think you’d have better luck interviewing the victim, Andor.”

Cassian turns around, undeniably relieved to see his partner, Special Agent Jyn Erso, perched on the bottom stair of the half-rotted stoop. She blinks up at him from under the brim of her almost comically large umbrella. Her eyes are knowing, her expression as lucid as ever. She had, no doubt, witnessed the entire debacle between him and the local law enforcement on her short trip from the car to the sway-backed and moss-fringed front porch of their newest crime scene investigation.

“Ah, that’s not my job, Erso, that’s all you,” Cassian tosses back archly. Jyn rolls her eyes and he comes to join her on the bottom stair. He assumes that she does not wish to venture inside the rotted, sodden prairie Colonial until absolutely necessary (and perhaps is wanting to dodge the ire of the local sheriff that Cassian had just pissed off in almost record time).

“Lay it on me, Andor. What is it this time?” Jyn asks, trying to sound bored but he knows better. His partner likes to evoke the straight-laced, no-nonsense career woman but Agent Jyn Erso is also the most accomplished forensic pathologist and scalpel wielder in the FBI… perhaps in the whole damn country. And one doesn’t reach such lofty acclaim by being squeamish. She had also quietly denied several career opportunities over the years that could be considered, well, more sane, in favor of chasing lights in the sky and slicing and dicing in backwater morgue bays.

Had stuck with him. But he tries not to think about that part.

He ducks under the umbrella and they venture out in the weedy front yard in tandem. Jyn makes no effort to accommodate his seven inch height advantage and Cassian does not expect her too. The rain is a dismal, steady drizzle and much of his back is damp within a few steps.

“The victim— 34, male— looks to have been frightened to death,” he announces as if commenting on the shitty weather.

“Cassian,” she groans, stopping to look at him like he had just expressed his desire to join the circus. He knows that tone well. It’s also never a good sign whenever she uses his first name. “Frightened to death?”

He nods, trying, and apparently failing, to keep the amusement off his face because Jyn’s eyes close and she sighs mightily as they continue on their way. “You ever heard of the Boogey Man, Erso?”

“There’s no such thing—“

“Look, I’ll leave it to you, Dr. Erso. Once you get the autopsy done and dusted then you can call me crazy.”

They reach the car and Jyn pulls the door handle on the passenger side. She drove here, but she is not fond of driving— especially when there is a perfectly good man to do it for her— and Cassian is always happy to oblige her in her few glints of prissiness.

She closes the umbrella, shakes out the rain and swings her sensible kitten heels into the car. “Cassian, I’ll save us both some time.” She leans precariously close to him, elbow on the center console of their little rented Cabriolet. He freezes in the midst of fastening his seatbelt (after having to push the seat back what felt like a good four feet). Her hair is damp and a bit wild despite the shelter of the umbrella (her hair always gets frizzy in the humidity— he thinks it’s unbearably cute) and he can smell her perfume. His heart stops in his chest.

“You’re crazy,” she pronounces sagely and falls back into her seat.

He puffs out a laugh, shakes his head, and fires up the car.

[wileys-russo]

Could we please have some Millie bright content, if you still write for her? 🥹🥹🥹

somethin short and sweet for you nonny! masterchef II m.bright

"mills? babe i'm home!" you called out as the door clicked shut behind you, kicking off your shoes and hanging your jacket up, the house feeling a hundred degrees warmer than the bitter frost of outside you'd just trudged through.

you heard her before you saw her, footsteps making their way toward you as you were halfway done unwrapping your scarf when the blonde appeared.

"hello baby!" the familiar comfort of her northern accent warmed you just as much as the ac, her hands grabbing the scarf you were trying to untangle and using it to tug your body into hers making you laugh.

"i missed ya." the defender exhaled, wiggling your bodies as she squished you tightly before one hand grabbed your chin, tilting your head back as she ducked her own and sweetly pecked your lips a few times.

"is something cooking?" you questioned with a frown as you sniffed the air, stepping back as your girlfriend made quick work of removing your scarf and hanging it up for you. "yes! i have been cooking." millie beamed happily as you gave her a look of uncertainty.

ever since she'd felt a twang in her knee and been benched the poor girl was going absolutely stir crazy, only really leaving the house to attend games or rehab. which had lead to her trying to find any and every way to occupy herself while you weren't home to capture her attention and focus.

"okay..." you trailed off, your girlfriend scowling unhappily at your lackluster response. "whats that sposed to mean!" she huffed crossing her arms over her chest and staring you down. "you just aren't normally the cook in the relationship love, thats all." you replied gently, trying to approach it in the nicest way possible.

"thanks for the vote of confidence babe!" millie grumbled with a roll of her eyes. "i just have a big meeting tomorrow that i can't miss due to a case of mild to severe food poisoning, thats all." you smiled slyly ducking around her.

"oi! come here." you tried to take off but you weren't fast enough as her strong arms wrapped around your waist and tugged you off the ground. "millie your knee! put me down." you smacked her shoulder as she easily held you under her arm.

"its fine! you stress more than emma and thats saying something." her free hand connected with your bum as she carried you into the kitchen and dropped you down into a stool by the island.

"i stress because i care and i care because if you do your knee again and i have to play nurse for another few months i fear our relationship may not survive because you are a terrible patient!" you shook your head at the memory, trying to crane your neck up to see what she was cooking but to no luck as her body blocked the stovetop.

"i was not!" "oh yes you were. for the first couple weeks you refused to sit still, refused to do your exercises, drove your teammates up the wall with your sideline coaching, drove me up the wall with your inabiity to listen, you-" "yeah alright alright! jesus what is it pick on millie day?" your girlfriend scoffed and turned back to whatever was on the stove with a shake of her head.

"thats every day my love." you bit back with a grin as she turned to wag a finger in your direction. "cheeky girl." the blonde tutted grabbing you a glass of wine which you thanked her for with a kiss.

"you know i didn't mind that little nurses uniform you had, maybe i might have to hurt my knee again." millie grinned wolfishly as you smacked her shoulder. "maybe for your birthday if you're lucky bright." her face brightened at that as she darted back to the stove.

"so do i get to know whats on the menu? need to be able to tell the doctor the cause of death." you sipped at the wine with a smirk as millie turned around hands on hips.

"i slave away all day on a hot stove to cop this ungrateful soppy attitude, you're looking the right way to be dropped!" the defender waved a wooden spoon at you only furthering your grin, enjoying this switch in power dynamic as normally it was millies little teasing comments which grated at you.

"i'll make sure my next girlfriends a chef then." you continued to poke at her with a smile, the blonde now choosing to ignore you as she checked on something in the oven.

"go get out of my face and shower then!" the taller girl waved you off as you grinned, darting over to kiss her sweetly before retreating to the bathroom, still in the dark about what it exactly was you'd be eating.

showered and feeling much more relaxed you sent a message to rachel warning that if you and millie weren't heard from again the cause of death was her cooking. the girl sending back a series of concerned emojis promised to come up and visit soon as clearly if millie was cooking she was much more bored than originally thought.

"baby! foods done!"

tucking away your phone you tugged on a pair of uggs and wandered downstairs. "oh mills it looks lovely!" you complimented with a smile, the blonde having set the table up with candles and flowers.

"always five star service for you my girl." the defender beamed charmingly, pulling out and pushing in your seat for you, your hand balling her top and tugging her mouth down to meet yours for a moment.

"baby you really cooked all of this?" your eyes widened as millie brought the food to the table. "yes. this is garlic and cheese pull apart bread, this is a creamy tomato and chorizo rigatoni and i made sticky date pudding for later." millie recounted as she took her seat and your mouth formed a small o.

"how did you even-" "well most of the time when i'm home by myself its the middle of the day so the only thing on is cooking shows! so i've been watching a bunch of episodes and making myself lunch most days." millie started to explain as she dished you both up a portion.

"i've been doing my stretches by walking up to the corner store for anything i need, physio approved, and i've been trying to push myself out of my comfort zone and improve." the blonde pushed your plate back toward you with a shrug.

"millie, baby thats fucking amazing. why didn't you tell me!" you laughed in surprise as the girl shoveled in a mouthful of pasta with another shrug.

"wanted to surprise you with a nice meal and i know you've got that big meeting tomorrow and i didn't have rehab today, so seemed the right day to do it." your girlfriend swallowed her food and shot you a soft smile that made your heart melt.

"go on! eat it, see if its edible." the girl mocked with a roll of her eyes already nearly halfway through her own bowl. with much less hesitation than before you stabbed up a forkful and slipped it into your mouth.

your eyes widened even further as you chewed and swallowed, millis smile turning smug at your obvious reaction as you quickly took up another large mouthful and groaned happily.

"good then?" "delicious mills holy shit!"

"you know my love if football doesn't work out i think we've worked out your backup career." you complimented sincerely making her laugh as the oven dinged and she pushed her chair back.

"making you happy makes me happy gorgeous." the defender ducked down to kiss your cheek before hurrying to the oven to pull out her puddings as you shook your head in disbelief.

"you know baby i think i'll take my apology in the form of that little nurses costume tonight. all this cooking and cleaning suddenly has my knee playing up!" "you keep cooking like this for me masterchef and i'll wear whatever you want."