#they never do it. they never ever ask for anything in return.

[beloveds-embrace]

Neglected omega reader who got taken care of by someone else. Nikolai or Konig. The drama ✨✨

I hope i did KorTac justice, I’ve never written them before except König lol @nightunite pspspsps i have nikto crumbs 🙏🏻

Neglected omega reader p1 + p2

KorTac had always liked you.

From the very first moment they’d met you, they’d been drawn in- pulled by the quiet gravity of your presence and the sharp edge of your competence. You were quick on your feet, sharp with a knife, steady under pressure. Smart and resourceful in a way that demanded respect.

But more than that?

You had heart.

You’d been assigned to their unit during a joint operation months ago. Just a temporary deployment, only meant to last a few weeks, but it had been long enough for them to notice things- little things they hadn’t been able to forget.

The way you’d patched König up without hesitation after a mission went sideways, hands steady even as blood slicked your fingers. The way you’d shared your rations with Horangi after a supply drop came in light, brushing off his protests with a stubborn glare. The way you’d sat quietly beside Nikto on watch, not asking questions when he didn’t feel like talking but always ready to listen when he did.

They noticed you, and they liked what they saw.

Liked the way you worked. Liked the way you took care of your team without ever expecting anything in return. Liked the way you carried yourself- confident but kind. Fierce but soft.

But you weren’t theirs. Couldn’t be.

You belonged to 141, and KorTac had backed off, unwilling to overstep boundaries when you already had a pack waiting for you at home. They’d told themselves it was fine- they were fine- watching from a distance.

But then you came back.

Alone.

Hollow-eyed and sharp-edged, moving like a ghost through the halls of the base, and suddenly?

All bets were off.

The first time König sees you in such a state, it’s in the corridor outside the mess hall.

You don’t look up when he walks by, don’t even seem to notice the sheer weight of his presence as he slows, lingering just long enough to let his shadow stretch over you. You’re leaning against the wall like you’re trying to hold yourself together, arms wrapped tight around your middle, shoulders curled inward. Small. Smaller than he’s ever seen you look before. Smaller than he’d ever thought he’d ever see you.

His instincts itch- Omega, alone, hurting- but you’re not his. And still…

His eyes track the tired slump of your shoulders, the way your clothes hang loose, like you’ve been skipping meals. He scents the air. Picks up the faded traces of peach and rose, but there’s something sour underneath- bitter and wrong, like spoiled fruit. König’s stomach twists.

It’s the scent of neglect.

You should never have looked like this. You should have never smelled like this.

Not you. Not the Omega who had once dragged him out of the line of fire without hesitation, barking orders and holding the line until reinforcements arrived. Not the Omega who had once laughed with him under a tin roof during a monsoon, eyes bright.

The smell lingers after he walks away, clinging to the back of his throat like smoke. But it’s the emptiness of it- the hollowness- that keeps him awake that night, staring at the ceiling and wondering which one of those 141 bastards let their Omega rot like this.

The next time König sees you, it’s in the armory.

You’re cataloging weapons, checking and re-checking the tags with mechanical precision, but your hands shake when you reach for the next one. Just a little. Just enough for him to notice.

König moves closer. Quiet, but not too quiet- he doesn’t want to startle you. You don’t look up until his shadow stretches over your workbench, and when you do, the look in your eyes hits him like a gut-punch.

Flat. Guarded. Resigned.

Like you’re expecting him to scold you.

König’s heart cracks wide open. He grips the edge of the table just to keep from reaching out.

“Doing good work.” He says softly, and you just blink.

It’s such a small thing- barely even a compliment- but your throat bobs like you’re swallowing something down. Then you duck your head and go back to your task, not looking at him again.

But you don’t flinch.

Not this time.

Nikto is next, and he doesn’t hesitate.

He remembers you. Remembers the way you’d stood shoulder to shoulder with him in the rain, eyes scanning the horizon with sharp focus as you both waited for the enemy to make their move.

You hadn’t been scared. Not even a little.

And now?

He catches you outside the rec room, sitting on the stairs with your knees drawn up to your chest. You don’t even react when he approaches, just keep staring at the floor like it might swallow you whole.

Now, you look like you’re drowning.

So Nikto doesn’t hesitate. He doesn’t say anything. Just crouches down beside you and sets a cup of coffee at your feet before walking away.

You stare at it for almost five minutes before finally picking it up.

The next morning, he does it again. Same cup. Same coffee. Same wordless offering.

It becomes a routine- something quiet and steady, something you can rely on when everything else feels too heavy.

And then there’s Horangi, who pushes the hardest.

He pushes, because he knows you can take it.

You had before- back when you’d yelled at him for ignoring orders and running off alone, eyes blazing as you shoved him back toward the evac point. He’d liked your fire back then, liked the way you didn’t back down even when he towered over you.

But now?

Now your fire’s gone out, and there’s only one group to blame.

So Horangi pushes. Tests the waters, pokes at the edges, trying to find the spark he knows is still there. He is the loudest of the three, sharp and quick with his words, but he also knows when to keep them soft. He finds you cleaning your gear one night and sits down beside you without asking.

“You missed dinner.” He says casually, pulling out a protein bar and tossing it onto your lap. Pushing past the bubble you’ve wrapped around yourself, yet not being overbearing or too much.

You open your mouth to argue, but he cuts you off.

“I’m not your Alpha,” he says with a shrug. “You don’t have to listen to me.”

You close your mouth. Look down at the protein bar. Then, without a word, you tear it open and take a bite.

Horangi grins. And just like that, he’s in.

And when you finally- finally- smile at one of his jokes?

He knows he’s got you.

141 starts noticing the shift almost immediately. Soap catches König lingering near you in the gym, eyes following the curve of your spine as you stretch, and something inside him snaps.

Ghost sees Nikto brush his fingers against yours when he hands you something, and his jaw clenches so tight he can hear his teeth grind.

Price overhears Horangi making you laugh- a real, honest-to-God laugh, a sound he can’t hear any longer even in his dreams- and has to excuse himself before he says something he can’t take back.

It gets worse when your scent starts to change; the bitterness fades first, then the sourness.

The first time Price catches a hint of warmth blooming underneath, it stops him dead in his tracks.

Because it isn’t for him. It isn’t for them.

It’s even worse to know that they drove you to it, and have no one to blame but themselves.

They let you fall through the cracks. Let the weight of their own issues and distractions leave you stranded in the dark, too far away for them to pull you back when they finally noticed you were gone.

And now? Now KorTac is picking up the pieces, with no hesitation.

König steadies you. Makes sure you eat, makes sure you rest, makes sure you feel safe even when the world outside is crumbling. Doesn’t push you away when you, big hand lingering on the curve of your spine until his scent is left there.

Nikto grounds you. Offers quiet comfort without demands, without expectations. Makes sure you know he’s there, always there, steady and unshakable. A lighthouse in the stormy seas, the hand that pulls you out of the swirling ocean.

Horangi pushes and pushes. Draws out smiles and laughter, reminds you what it feels like to be wanted. Finds excuses to bump shoulders or brush against you when you pass, just to see if you’ll let him.

And you do. You let all of them, slowly greeting them with the quietest little purr (cat activation noise).

Because it’s easier to be wanted by them than it is to be unwanted by your own pack.

And slowly- so slowly it hurts- you start to come back to life; your scent changes. Softens. Warms. The bitterness fades and the sourness disappears.

And all they can do is only watch as König takes the space they abandoned. As Nikto feeds the hunger they ignored. As Horangi brings back the fire they let burn out.

And they can’t do a damn thing about it.

Because the truth is- KorTac wanted you from the start, and now that they’ve got you?

They’re never letting go.

[mugglebornmarvelite]

Mission Mishap

Paring: Avenger! Bucky Barnes x Avenger! Fem! Reader (Grumpy x Sunshine)

Summary: A recon mission gone awry leads to Bucky having to protect his sunshine. As the snowstorm gets worse, he becomes her shelter from the storm, showing a tenderness that he rarely allows others to see.

Word Count: Roughly 1.8k

Warnings: Hurt/comfort, fluff, injury-related pain, bruising, cold exposure, mild language (like two curse words)

Author’s Note: It was snowing, and I got ✨inspired✨

This felt a little choppy because I combined two drabbles, but I think it works :)

Navigation

What should have been a quick recon in the mountains became more complicated when a snowstorm hit faster and harder than previously anticipated. You could barely keep up with Bucky as he pushed ahead, his sharp eyes scanning the nearby. The cold penetrated through your layers; gnawing at your bones and intensifying the ache of your bruises, but you forced yourself to keep moving.

"Can you handle a few more yards?" he asked, his voice low, and despite the chaos, was comforting. "Map says there’s a hostel a quarter of a mile away."

"I’m fine," you mumbled. You knew your words were merely a weak attempt to reassure both yourself and him.

Bucky turned his head toward you, his gaze softening. 

"Don’t do that," he replied. "Stop pretending you’re fine when you’re so clearly not."

The harsh wind bit at your face, and you tried to keep up with him, you couldn't hide the way your teeth chattered.

"You need to stop," Bucky said, voice sharp and authoritative. "You’re shaking like a leaf. Let me help you."

Before you could argue, he moved without hesitation, shedding his jacket in one smooth motion and draping it over your shoulders. 

"Come here," Bucky said. "No arguments. You’re freezing, and I won’t let it get worse."

You tried to protest as you stammered, "I-I’m fine. Really, Bucky, I’m fine."

But Bucky wasn’t having it. 

His glared down and you and you looked away.

"No, you’re not," he said again, this time softer. "You’re going to listen to me now, okay?"

He didn’t wait for a response. He wrapped his arms around you, guiding your arms around his neck and lifting you without much effort. You buried your face in the crook of his neck as you gave up on protesting. His body heat radiated through his sweater and the warm jacket he wrapped you in helped in instantly melting away the cold that had settled into your bones.

Bucky’s chest rose and fell under you, steady and reassuring, grounding you as the world around you spun with snow, harsh winds making it difficult to see. He held you close, his grip never wavering as if to say he wasn’t letting go, not for anything.

"You listen to me," he said said softly. "If anything happens to you out here, I’m going to be fucking pissed. Understand?"

"Noted," you said softly, your voice muffled by his neck. You tightened your grip on him, clinging to him as your life depended on it because, in a way, it did. Not that you’d ever complain.

You could feel his steady heartbeat, the way his breath slowed as he focused on getting you both to safety. His steps were purposeful, unhurried, but determined as he carried you toward the small hostel.

When you finally reached the building, Bucky didn’t waste a second. Without a word, he guided you inside and he gently set you down on a chair. The warmth of the room feeling like a stark contrast to the biting cold that had gripped you just moments before. Pun intended.

"You stay here," he commanded, his voice brooking no argument. "I’ll get us a room and call the team."

You nodded. 

As he moved to make arrangements, you wrapped yourself tightly in his jacket, the faint scent of him still lingering on the fabric. 

You winced from the pain in your side, but you manged to stay still. You looked out the window, watching as the storm raged on.

When Bucky returned, he didn’t waste any time sitting next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders and pulling you into his side. 

"Better?" he asked.

You leaned into him, letting the comfort of his presence envelop you. 

"Yeah," you said softly. "Much better. Thanks, Bucky."

"You don’t have to thank me," he muttered, his voice low, almost intimate. "I’m just doing what’s right. Keeping you safe."

You closed your eyes, allowing yourself to melt into the warmth of his embrace. "I know," you whispered, your voice quiet but filled with gratitude. "And I’m glad you’re here."

Bucky’s fingers brushed through your hair, his protective grip never faltering. "And I’m not going anywhere," he murmured.

A moment later, he scooped you up effortlessly, carrying you to the room he booked and dumping you on the bed. The sudden motion made you giggle as you kicked off your boots.

Bucky turned up the heat, and as the warmth began to fill the room, you settled onto the covers. 

"What did the team say?" you asked quietly.

"They’ll try to make it tonight," he replied. "But I told them we can wait until the morning."

You raised an eyebrow, puzzled. "Why?"

"Because I’m keeping you safe tonight," he murmured, quickly adding, "And Sam snores. I can hear him from two rooms down the hall. I’m in no rush to go home, sunshine."

You laughed softly, your eyes brightening. "You’re unbelievable, Bucky."

Bucky grinned, his usual grumpy expression softened. "Yeah, but you’re stuck with me."

"Seriously though," he said, his voice suddenly quieter, "I’m not letting anything happen to you. Not on my watch."

"I know," you whispered, your voice soft but filled with sincerity. "And I trust you."

His eyes softened, just for a moment, before he cleared his throat and pulled away slightly, pretending to be unaffected by the vulnerability in the air. 

“Hey,” he muttered, his voice hushed and rough with concern. He paused for a moment as if considering whether to push or back off. He couldn’t ever quite figure out how to balance his protective nature. But when it came to you, he couldn’t help himself. “You sure you’re okay?”

You forced a smile, shifting a little more, trying to get comfortable, but the throbbing in your side was relentless. The last thing you wanted was for him to notice. He already had enough on his shoulders; you wouldn’t let him add your worries to his pile.

“I’m fine,” you whispered. Lie.

"Bullshit," he grumbled, his voice laced with frustration, the one that surfaced when he cared too much and couldn’t fix things fast enough. "What’s the matter?"

Bucky stared at you, his eyes narrowing. 

God, that stare. 

It was like he could read every inch of your soul, and you couldn’t breathe under the weight of it.

“Talk to me.”

You shifted uncomfortably, your side flaring up in protest. You winced, sucking in a sharp breath, hoping he didn’t notice, but of course, he did. 

He always noticed when it came to his sunshine.

"My side. Just a little pain," you admitted, the bruise hidden under the layers of clothing you still wore.

Bucky’s face softened, his worry evident. Without a word, he stood up, reaching for the small medical kit in his bag.

"Lift your shirt," he said, his voice low but commanding.

"I'm fine-" You mumbled. 

But Bucky wasn’t one to back down. He crouched in front of you, his large hands already moving to your waist, his fingers brushing the fabric of your shirt with a touch that was far too tender for someone like him.

“Lift.” The word was soft, but there was a dangerous edge to it, a warning wrapped in affection. The way he said it made it clear that this was happening.

You frowned and you raised the hem of your shirt, exposing the tender spot on your side where the impact from earlier had left its mark. "Shh, sunshine." He whispers soothingly. "You're okay, promise."

Bucky’s hands were gentle as he inspected the injury, his fingers brushing lightly over your skin, and his touch was careful but sure. There was something tender about the way he looked at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world to him. It made you lightheaded.

“Doesn’t look too bad,” he muttered, though you could hear the underlying concern in his tone. “But we’re still gonna clean it up, yeah?”

 His brow furrowed, and for a moment, his expression softened into something that hurt to look at. 

Like you meant something to him.

The second his fingers brushed over your side, just lightly grazing the bruise, you couldn’t help it. A whimper escaped, and your body tensed. You hated it. Hated being weak.

“Shh.” His voice was soothing. “You’re doing so good.”

You tried to move, to escape the pressure, but Bucky’s hand was already on your abdomen, holding you gently but firmly in place. His fingers splayed out over your skin, not forceful, but steady.

“Sorry,” you muttered, your voice strained as another wave of pain hit and you squirmed.

“You don’t have to apologize,” Bucky murmured, his grip tightening just a little, his other hand reaching for the antiseptic wipe. "Just breathe for me, okay?"

Something about his voice, soft yet commanding, made the tension in your body ease just enough for you to inhale deeply, to steady yourself.

“You’re tough, sunshine,” Bucky murmured, his eyes softening even more as he cleaned the bruise. "You’ll be alright."

But his voice held a gentleness that made your heartache. As he worked, cleaning the wound, his touch was slow, deliberate. The sting from the wipe was sharp, but his hands on your skin were grounding, like he was pulling the pain out of you with every careful movement.

Every time you whimpered, every time the pain made itself known, he soothed you with gentle words,“I know, sunshine, I got you,” “It’s okay, you’re okay.”

He cleaned the wound with slow, careful movements. The cool, sterile wipe stung a little, but his gentle touch was soothing, making the discomfort easier to bear. 

“I got you.” His voice was quiet, almost a whisper. A calm anchor. “Just breathe, sunshine.”

And you did.

When he finally finished, he leaned back and reached for a bandage. He pressed the bandage against your side like he was trying to heal something deeper than the bruise, something you couldn’t name.

“Good as new.” His voice was softer now. “You’re tough, sunshine. You’ll be alright.”

You smiled faintly, your fingers brushing the edge of the bandage. “Thanks, Bucky.”

“Yeah, yeah.” He grumbled, but there was no bite to it. His gruffness was a comfort, like a wall of security you could lean against when everything else felt shaky.

“Just-” His eyes softened as he looked at you, the rare tenderness that always made your chest tighten. “Get some sleep, alright?”

You nodded, curling up under the covers.

“Goodnight,” you whispered, your voice small and soft as you nestled against him.

Bucky’s hand gently brushed through your hair, his fingers pausing to stroke your scalp in a way that made you feel like the most important thing in the world.

“Goodnight, милая девочка.” Sweet girl.

His words were quiet, a soft reassurance in the night. You let out a sigh, the ache in your side fading as the warmth of his body enveloped you, and slowly, you drifted into a peaceful sleep.

Bucky stayed awake for a while, keeping watch, making sure you were alright. But as the night drew on, he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead, making sure you were okay before falling asleep himself.

Thank you so much for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

Much love x

- Maeve

[gothicfied]

more for 124 :(((((((

Hand in Hand - Nam-gyu / Player 124

Pairing: Nam-gyu / Player 124 x Reader

Summary: The fight in the men's bathroom and the rising tension between players gave you much to worry about, but Nam-gyu gave you to comfort you needed

Warnings: Mentions of death/dying, blood, killing (typical squid game stuff), other than that it's just fluff, not proof read (english isn't my first language)

Word count: 721 words

A/N: Tihihihi, I love this man fr. I hope this isn't too cringe🧍‍♀️

You couldn't sleep, actually, no one was able to sleep. Sitting on the bed under you was Nam-gyu, who didn't want to talk to you - talk to anybody - after the fight was broken up. You immediately understood what was up when he yelled out that the men who voted 'X' had attacked them, killing some of the players. Thanos didn't return. Yeah, it was pretty obvious why he seemed so pissed off, so shell-shocked. Quietly, you sat up, carefully leaning down to see what he was doing. Nam-gyu was biting his fingernails, eyeing Thanos' cross necklace that he was holding in his slightly shaky hands. Seeing you leaning down from the corner of his eye, he frowned.

"What?"

"I can't sleep."

"Why?"

"I'm scared.."

Nam-gyu's face immediately softened upon hearing your words. He swallowed hard and hastily tucked the necklace into his pocket, gesturing for you to come down and sit next to him. As gently as possible to not catch anyone elses attention, you dropped down from your bed and leaned against the headboard of Nam-gyu's bed, your shoulder pressed against his. "Are you sad?" you asked quietly, just looking down at your lap as you spoke. You heard his breath hitching for a moment, but he still asked you what you meant by that. "Sad about- well you know." Silence.

Nam-gyu wasn't quite sure how to answer that question. He has witnessed so many deaths in this place by now and none of them have affected him in the slightest. He didn't know them well, so why should he care about a random player? "Because, I'm not sure if I should be." your voice interrupted his thoughts. Slowly, he turned his head your way, taking in your side profile in the dim light. "Nah," Nam-gyu chuckled, "he was an asshole. Had it coming, in my opinion." Despite his words, he sounded bitter. It's not like he didn't mean them, because that's exactly how Thanos was, but they still had some kind of.. friendship.

You met his gaze, your eyes wandering over his face covered in splatters of blood. That was worrying by itself, but you didn't have any interest in asking about what role he played in that fight. "And why are you scared?" You looked at him like he asked you the most stupid question in the world.

"Come on, you know everyone will try to kill each other now."

"And you know that I won't let anything happen to you."

Ever since he defended you from a group of men, who were making more than weird comments about you, immediately on the first day you woke up in this hellhole, you've just stuck with him. On multiple occasions now, Nam-gyu has proven that he actually won't let anything or anyone harm you. Why? He doesn't know it, either. He just likes you and you didn't take that for granted. Nam-gyu made you feel safe, you trusted him, even if that's hard to believe. Usually, he'd be compliant with what Thanos would say or tell him to do, just not when he was giving you a hard time — That's partially why he just couldn't feel sorry for that man.

Slowly, Nam-gyu wrapped his arm around your neck, making you lean your head against his. The silence between you two was never awkward and more comforting than anything. You were able to hear faint whispers of other players, feet tapping the ground and the occasional cough from that old guy, Player 100. Nam-gyu's hair tickled the side of your face as he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

"Whatever happens tonight, I promise I'll keep you safe."

[kaiser1ns]

When you first met Endo Yamato and Takiishi Chika you knew what you were signing for but didn’t expect this—pure chaos in the walk-in closet with clothes all over the floor, blouses and jackets were taken off the hangers, and looking at these two you got very confused ... Well, as you watched Endo search, Takiishi is just standing in the middle of it.

“What are you doing?” you asked, leaning against the doorframe, trying not to laugh at Endo, who had spoiled you shamelessly forever, and Takiishi, who was still interested in you despite his ever-shifting whims. “Looking for my hoodie,” Turning their heads to you as their eyes went wide, and you couldn’t figure out why until the tattooed man’s gaze locked on you, his mouth parting in realization. You followed his line of sight, suddenly self-conscious. Oh. You were wearing the hoodie. 

He let out a sigh, finally calm that he found what he was looking for as he stood up and walked over to you. “Doll,” he drawled, his voice low and teasing, “you’ve got something that belongs to me.”

Your heart skipped a beat. Oh no. He knew. Not just about the hoodie, but the card. His precious credit card. You swallowed hard, your mind racing. Endo would never actually do anything to hurt you, he wouldn’t dare, but he’d made it clear you were supposed to ask him before using it. And you… definitely hadn’t.

“I didn’t mean to!” you blurted, practically tripping over your words. “It was just sitting there, staring at me! Like it wanted me to use it. And, well, I took the chance.”

He blinked at you, his expression slipping from teasing to baffled, turning to Takiishi, who remained as still as ever, blinking back at him with no intention of helping. “Well,” Endo finally said, his grin returning as he leaned in closer, his nose practically brushing yours, “I guess I can’t stay mad if you’re going to look that cute while confessing.”

Takiishi, watching from the sidelines, rolled his eyes. “You spoil her too much,” he muttered, walking off as if he was one to talk about being spoiled. You could only laugh nervously as Endo pulled you into a hug, saying something about princess privileges under his breath you knew that you were either cleaning this or your allowance was about to be shortened, but not for long. “You’re lucky I like you.”

©2024 kaiser1ns do not copy, repost or modify my work.

[razorblade180]

Archon Ranking

Charlotte:Aether! As a famous traveler with deep connections to other nations and their Archons, I have to ask, *pulls out pen and paper* who do you think the best Archon is among the ones you met?

Aether:…*looks around* I don’t know how, but it feels like they’re listening. I just know it’s going to get back to them.

Venti:*behind a house* Shhh

Archons:*nod silently*

Aether:This question isn’t exactly easy, it’s not impossible. The Raiden Shogun and Rex Lapis are out of the running.

Ei:(That’s fair…)

Zhongli:*slouches*

Charlotte:Well one of them did kick off a civil war, but why think little of the deceased Lord of Geo? Is it because you didn’t get the chance to know him enough.

Aether:…Yes. While I commend his diligence, I fear having such a strict and uncompromising approach to the concept of contracts lead to a few… rather unnecessary predicaments that could’ve been avoided by forming more open and new contracts with his people.

Zhongli:An interesting perspective. One that may or may not hold some merit. I won’t outright dismiss it, but some things must be set in stone.

Furina:Now I don’t mean to criticize such an enlightened individual, but as someone who actually had a national incident set in stone, I don’t think your plan had to have one.

Zhongli:Hmmm

Aether:The others are sorta tricky. I can’t find fault in how Nahida chose to conduct herself. Centuries of isolation by her own people and yet she still helped throughout history. Perhaps it would’ve been simpler for her to take a hands on approach and speak out against the injustices she felt, but she’s still a young and gentle god. I can’t blame her for feeling small.

Charlotte:I’ve read dozens or articles after Sumeru’s liberation. I gotta say some brought me to tears! Though she’s far older than us, I must say I don’t think it’s inappropriate to say asking such a feat is no different than expecting a child to stand up to an adult without ever being taught to do so. If anything, it makes it more amazing that she eventually did!

Aether:I agree. I’m very proud of her.

Nahida:*sniffles* Aw, I see. Suddenly I’m all warm inside.

Charlotte:Am I correct to say you’ve met the god of Anemo?

Aether:….

Charlotte:Off the record.

Aether:Yes. I’ve met them several times. As for on the record, the Anemo Archon may not be present often, his presence is always felt down to the blades of grass. From the very start he made a place made for his people, and lead by his people. A hands off approach not only not only fits the god of freedom, but is beneficial for the common man. Plus, it’s not like anyone feels abandoned. There’s countless records of their god returning to aid in times of need.

Charlotte:Make you wonder if he had any hand in the Storm Terror crisis.

Aether:I wouldn’t put it past them. My glider never seemed to fail a rookie like me when I needed it most.

Venti:*smiles smugly*

Zhongli:You still drink too much.

Venti:Because I have the time. You do too. Some might say, Liyue is more like Mondstadt these days.

Ei:No one is saying that.

Venti:And yet I still find it comical how much a certain someone put into retiring, just to live among his people with a normal occupation.

Mavukia:He…makes a point. To a degree. You both ended in the same spot surprisingly.

Zhongli:Sigh….

Aether: As for Furina and Mavuika… it feels wrong to praise one without the other. The Pyro Archon is a strong capable leader who’s very personable. Her plan was a bit more than crazy, but it had to be to face the abyss. Most importantly, she suffered alongside her people and sacrificed a lot in order to see her plan through. Things nobody should ever have to give up; like being an older sibling. She has my respect. Truly, no one fights alone with her around.

Mavukia:*smiles* If you ask me, he should share some of that praise with himself.

Aether:As for Furina, well, do I really have to tell you about her. To this day, people see her as a the Hydro Archon.

Charlotte:How could Fontainian’s not? Even with the truth discovered, it doesn’t change she’s been prevalent in our history.

Aether:While I don’t think I can say her leadership skills are as astute as other Archons, I personally can’t bring myself to say she isn’t brilliant. Furina did her job to the letter and never compromised it once for the sake of her people despite every single day wearing down her soul until she was in literal tears. I honestly don’t know what’s more impressive. Mavukia has always moved forward without faltering. That takes immense strength. Furina though, she doesn’t have that kind of strength. In a lot of ways, she did break and hesitate, yet she walked forward all the same. It’s both amazing and terrifying. Human Archons sure are interesting.

Charlotte:Maybe it’s our shared humanity that made them so strong in your eyes.

Aether:Maybe, but I think even archons in the traditional sense are more human than some give them credit. For instance, they’re all nosy enough to eavesdrop behind a house.

Venti:Ha, busted…

Furina walks out with a red face and eyes that tried to act serious but failed to do so thanks to their glossy gaze that struggled to hold back tears. She didn’t even know what to say and feared her voice might shake. Before she could try, Aether hugs her. She can only hug him back in frustration. It didn’t take long for Nahida to join. Meanwhile Mavukia and Ei walked out into view simply because there was no need to hide.

Aether:You guys are ridiculous.

Ei:True feelings are typically expressed when the subject isn’t around. I must admit, I wish you had said at least one positive thing.

Aether:No one can ever doubt that you care. Maybe you didn’t express it correctly, and very few people know your grief, but you are a good person. I mean that.

Ei:I appreciate your understanding. Perhaps in the future, many more will share a similar idea.

Charlotte:…*squints* Are the Anemo and Geo archon behind the house too?

Aether:Off the record?

Charlotte:*tosses pen and paper* I can keep a secret! I’ll make a contact if I have to! I just gotta know~

Venti:..*peeks head out* Hello!

Charlotte:I’ve seen you!!! You’re the drunk bard everyone likes even though he doesn’t pay his tab!

Venti:I pay my tab! It just keeps coming back.

Charlotte:*bounces with anticipation* Is the Lord of Geo with you? Hehehe~

Zhongli:…*sticks arm out*

Charlotte:DIRECTOR HU TAO’S FUNERAL CONSULTANT!?

Zhongli:Wha- she knew by my sleeve!?

Aether:I am going to be honest, wearing all brown and having a job that uses your encyclopedic knowledge of history is not a conspicuous disguise.

Venti:I told ya, you might as well of chose to be a miner. There’s dozens of those; much like there’s countless bards! So what if I sing an old song!? Nobody would bat an eye if you were good at digging.

Zhongli:Sigh…

[kteezy997]

Beyond Business-part two//t.c.

Warnings: mention of deception, possibly toxic relationship, small argument

He was so close, leaning onto the table with his hands. You turned your head, your heart racing, thinking he’d do something crazy like kiss you. There’s no way he would do that, right?

You watched him look at the laptop screen for a few seconds, but it felt much longer before he spoke. “I think it’s time for a lunch break.” He stood up straight, “Ready?”

You were brought back to your senses, “Yeah, um, what do you want me to go get today?” you asked, pushing your chair back and standing up as well.

“Actually, I thought we’d go out somewhere.”

"Oh." you said, shrugging, "Alright."

............

The lunch wasn't really anything special, he just took you to a sandwich shop where you sat in a booth and finished eating within ten minutes. But it was abnormal, considering the two of you had never gone out to lunch, or any other meal together. Typically, he would have you go pick up food from somewhere, mostly to give you a mental break from the workday, or you would order food to be delivered to his place.

After returning to his house, you decided to break the ice on a topic that he was dreading: the Golden Globes.

"So, have you been thinking about the Globes? Do you have an acceptance speech ready?"

"What are you talking about? I'm not gonna win." he slumped down in one of his comfy chairs in the living room.

"Timmy, you should have something prepared. I can help you write something."

"Yeah," he sighed, "I guess I should have something, just in case. That's your job for the rest of the day, write my speech." he smiled cheekily.

You giggled at his goofy face, "Okay, boss. You'll have to proofread so I don't leave anyone out on your thank you list. Should I mention Miss Jenner?” the last question was a bit of a joke. You didn't think Timmy would ever mention a significant other publicly, not even if he were married to someone for 10 years with children.

Timmy only rolled his eyes, “Yeah, no.” he said firmly, taking his phone out, looking at the screen.

“Are you guys…okay?” You knew this was a sensitive spot, but not sure exactly why.

“Yeah, we’re fine.” he said plainly. He did not want to talk about her.

You bit your lip, "Well, I will go get started on that speech, unless there's anything else you need me to work on?" you started to turn on your heel.

"No, nothing right now, y/n, thanks." he said to you, but kept his eyes on the phone.

You could not get your head around how nice he was being to you, not that he was ever particularly mean, except for the night before, but you were over that. But to actually thank you for just doing your job was not typical of him.

.........

Later on, evening hours were approaching, and it was nearly time for you to go home. You heard Timmy's footsteps trailing into the dining room. His phone was still in hand.

"She is wanting to text; I just don't have the energy tonight. Just keep her on the hook, make her think the relationship is secure." he said, attempting to hand the device over to you.

"Is the relationship not secure?" you asked, not sure if you should take the phone.

Tip-toeing around an answer, he shrugged, "Just say enough to make it so. You've done it for me before." he pointed out.

"I know...it just doesn't feel right. This is something you should be doing Timmy. What if she mentions something from a text that I sent, and you don't even know what she's talking about?"

"She won't. Don't worry about that, it's not that deep. Just send a few texts back and forth and it'll be done." his nonchalant attitude was a little unnerving.

You shook your head, "It just seems mean, like towards her. She is still just a girl, you know, I think she actually might like you, Timmy."

"It's not that serious, she knows that, but I need her to think that everything is fine."

"I don't want to lie for you anymore, Timmy."

"It's not lying." he insisted.

"It's not genuine. Even if you don't care about Kylie, she is still a person. She doesn't deserve to be deceived."

"I never said I didn't care."

"Well, you don't act like you do! What even is your relationship with her? You never say anything about her."

"You're my assistant, I don't have to talk about my love life with you." he gave you a dirty look.

You scoffed, "You have literally had me do your texting for you, and you want me to do it again! You are such a walking contradiction. I'm not doing it." You were extra firm in your last sentence.

"Whatever. I think it's about quitting time for you today anyway, y/n." he said, grabbing his phone back from you.

"Look, I'm sorry for yelling at you. But you have to admit that I'm right. That's not a way to treat someone. I shouldn't have done it before, but you're my boss and I guess at the time I just wanted to please you."

He nodded, taking a breath and a moment to reflect, "Yeah, well, I'm glad to have you to call me out on my bullshit." He then tapped your arm with his hand. "Okay, get out of here, kid."

You frowned, "Did you just call me 'kid'?"

"Yeah, what?" he frowned right back at you. The mood was lighter now.

"I'm only like a year and a half younger than you, old man, don't call me a kid." you joked, gathering up your things to leave. You liked the playful banter you and he shared sometimes.

"Fine, don't call me an ‘old man’ then." he chuckled. He followed you to the front door as you slung your purse over your shoulder.

“Well, goodnight, boss.” you said, facing him one last time after to opened the door.

He held the door, his arm resting above your head. “Okay, goodnight.” he smiled softly. “Drive safe.” he said simply, then leaned in to leave a peck on your cheek.

Your heart skipped a beat, you felt your cheeks flood pink immediately. The tiny spot that his lips had touched was inflamed. You didn’t know what else to do, so you stood there smiling like an idiot.

Timmy closed his eyes, shaking his head and pressing his lips together, “I’m sorry! I don’t know why I did that. I really don’t.” he was clearly embarrassed; he took about a half step backward. “Let’s just forget about that, okay?” he smiled innocently.

“Yeah, it’s okay.” you shrugged, putting your arms behind your back. “It didn’t bother me anyway.”

He grinned, “Good. See you tomorrow?”

“Yep, definitely. Don’t forget to read over that speech. You’re running out of time before the awards.”

He mock rolled his eyes, letting his head hang down in annoyance, not at you, but the awards. “Okay.” he whined.

“Bye Timmy.” you giggled, then walked out the door. You weren't sure why he was dreading the Golden Globes so badly.

January 7, 2025

@gatoenlaciudad @thebetawolfgirl @musicandbooksaremyhappyplace @softhecreator @tchalamss @lixzey @bitchyunknownuser @ducktapebar @aoi-targaryen @yukideadinside @elloise0 @thatoneweirdgirl17 @mel-vaz @sammy-halpert @iwishchalamet @that-one-fangirl69 @jindongdongie @briefkittenearthquake @imnotoverlyobsessive

[slaytheday12]

Heyyy

I hope you're having a good day/night/else?

It's 2025 soon and I was wondering if (maybe) you could do a Walker Scobell x reader at like a new year party and Walker confess ? Please?

If you don't want to it's totally fine, byeeee

Midnight Confessions

The excitement of the New Year's Eve party filled the air as you made your way into the crowded room. The lights flickered above, and the laughter of your friends echoed around you. Everyone was excited to for the new year, but as soon as your eyes found Walker in the crowd, everything seemed to slow down.

It wasn’t that you weren’t used to seeing him, but tonight felt different. You and Walker had been friends for a while now ever since the beginning of the school year, to be exact. But as you watched him across the room, laughing with his friends, something inside you tingled. Maybe it was the way he looked under the soft glow of the lights, or how effortlessly he smiled. Whatever it was, you couldn’t deny that recently, your feelings for him have felt… different.

As you made your way over to him, your heart started to race a little. He smiled at you when you finally reached him, his face lighting up like it always did when he saw you. “Hey, you made it,” he said with a grin, his voice filled with excitement. “I’m glad you came.”

“Of course, wouldn’t miss it,” you replied, trying to act calm, but your nervousness was starting to creep in. “Happy New Year, Walker.”

“Happy New Year,” he said, raising his cup to you. “So, how’s your night going so far?”

“It’s great,” you answered, glancing around at all the people dancing, laughing, and celebrating. But you couldn’t help going back to focusing on him. “A bit loud, but... I guess that’s what you expect at a New Year’s party.”

Walker laughed and nodded. “Yeah, it’s pretty crazy in here. But hey, it’s the new year, right?”

You nodded in agreement, but your mind was elsewhere. Tonight was special there was a weird feeling in the air that you couldn’t shake. You had been friends for a while, but lately its felt more intimate between the two of you and you couldn't shake the feeling.

“So… this is fun,” you say awkwardly, trying to break the silence.

Walker shifted slightly, his gaze becoming more serious as he looked at you. “Yeah, but... there’s something I’ve been meaning to talk to you about.”

Your heart skipped a beat. You were suddenly aware of the quiet hum of music in the background, as the chatter of everyone around you began fading. You turned your attention fully to him, your nerves heightening. “What is it?”

He hesitated, his eyes flicking to the side for a second before returning to meet yours. "You know, we’ve been friends for a while now. And I don’t want to make things awkward, but" he exhaled nervously "I umm, i’ve been thinking about this for a while."

Your stomach fluttered, a mix of concern and confusion building. What was he about to say? “What’s wrong walker?” you asked softly.

“I... I like you, okay?” he said quickly, his words rushing out in a nervous tone. “I really like you. More than just as a friend, but I'm not sure if you feel the same way. And I didn’t want to mess things up, you know? Its like totally fine if u don't or whatever” he said in a nervous scramble.

Your breath caught in your throat, the room spinning slightly. You stared at him for a moment, trying to process what he had just said. Walker liked you. More than a friend. It was hard to wrap your head around.

“I—I didn’t know you felt that way,” you said slowly, your voice a little shaky. "I didn’t think you’d... I mean, you never said anything before."

Walker ran a hand through his hair, clearly nervous. “I know. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship, and I thought maybe it was just me. But I couldn’t keep it in anymore.” he said in a more serious tone whilst scratching the back of his neck.

Your heart was seriously pounding now. He had just confessed, and you didn’t know what to say. You had always thought of Walker as a good friend, someone you could count on, I mean, I guess recently you've been feeling a bit different about him, but you went exactly sure what it was. But hearing walker say those words made everything feel different.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm your racing thoughts. “Walker, I didn’t—wow. I didn’t know you felt that way either. I’ve been thinking about you a lot more lately, but... I don’t know. I’ve just always seen us as friends.”

“I get it,” he said quickly, as he turned away avoiding eye contact. He took a second before looking back at you with saddened eyes. “I didn’t want to make things weird, but I think... I think I just needed to tell you. I’ve been trying to act like everything’s normal, but I feel like I’m lying to myself.”

You smiled at him gently, as your heart began filling with warmth. “I’m glad you told me. I don’t want things to be awkward either, but... I like you too, Walker. I’m just not sure where this leaves us.”

Walker’s eyes lit up with hope, his smile wide and full of happines. “Really?”

You nodded chucking at his excitement. “Yeah. Really. It’s just... everything’s moving so fast, you know? I didn’t expect this to happen tonight.” you said truthfully.

“I didn’t either,” he admitted, laughing. “But here we are, .... maybe we can start with a date, and see how we go.” walker asked.

But before you could agree to what walker said, the countdown for the new year began, taking over the whole room.

“Ten! Nine! Eight!”

Walker moved a little closer, his eyes not leaving yours. There was a soft tension in the air now, one of understanding. This was a start of something special between the two of you and what better time to start it then the New Year.

“Seven! Six! Five!”

Your heart was racing as you met his joyful gaze. You could feel the butterflies swirling in your stomach as the seconds ticked down to midnight.

“Four! Three! Two!”

As the clock stroked midnight, everything seemed to fall into place. Walker stepped closer, his face just inches from yours, and for a moment, the world felt still. He hesitated, then gently pressed a quick, shy kiss to your cheek.

When he pulled back, his face was flushed, but he was smiling, and you couldn’t help but smile back.

“Happy New Year,” Walker murmured, his voice soft as his forehead lightly rested against yours.

“Happy New Year,” you replied, your heart racing, knowing this was the start of something special.

A/N: hope u all enjoyed lmk any feedback u may have thank u.

Tags: @sophand4n4, @kaiwrites092

[butterflywingswrites]

reposting all my anon fics in one place. enjoy 🤗

giving caitlin a massage on vacation part 2

unsurprisingly, caitlin was an amazing kisser. she kissed exactly the way you liked it. enough tongue that the kiss was wet and messy in a good way but not too much that it was sloppy or gross. the hand on your neck snaked into your hair to cradle the back of your head. the hand holding your hands down moved to your face. the kiss was slow and sweet but so so filthy in the best way. you pulled back and took in how beautiful she looked. her eyes were full of lust, her cheeks flushed, and her lips were wet from your kiss. she stroked your cheek with her thumb

“let me take care of you” you breathed out “let me make you feel good”

“fuck yes. please” you gave her another deep kiss before sitting up and taking your baggy t-shirt off. you don’t want anything getting in the way of this moment

“i’m gonna go slow so you can relax and take time to enjoy yourself” you gave her a quick peck on the lips before moving to her ear and whispering “and so i have more time to hear you scream” you slowly placed kisses down her neck, careful to avoid marks in case someone recognizes her at the hotel and a picture from vacation gets on the internet. you kissed from the side of her neck to the middle before starting down her chest. the soft moans and sweet whimpers returned. letting the intrusive thoughts win, you moved your head to her underwear waistline and licked from her bellybutton to the middle of her chest. she raised her eyebrows

“i didn’t realize you were an ab licker. you’re dirty as hell”

“if you don’t like anything i do, just tell me”

“i never said i didn’t like it” with that in mind, you licked all the way up her right thigh to the edge of her underwear. she made a noise of surprise, but not displeasure. you moved your head back down to her right knee and gave small light kisses up her thigh. her soft moans and sweet whimpers turned you on endlessly and only encouraged you to continue your teasing. once you got to the top of her thigh, you rubbed your nose against the wet spot (which definitely did get bigger) and licked it. caitlin groaned your name and you swore it was the most beautiful noise you’ve ever heard. it almost made you abandon your plan. almost

instead of eating her out like she wanted, you moved to caitlin’s left knee and started placing small light kisses up her left thigh. if she asked, you would’ve told her you did it to make the payoff better but, selfishly, you wanted to prolong the moment. you weren’t sure you were going to get to touch her again and you wanted to make this last as long as you could. you wanted her soft moans and sweet whimpers to go on as long as possible. when you got to the top of her thigh, you pulled your head fully away from her. she gave you a death stare until you hooked your fingers on the side of her underwear and pulled them off her body. you moved your head back between her legs

“you’re so wet” you teased “is this all for me?” caitlin whined out a yes and you finally put her out of her misery. you licked her pussy and she brought her hands to your head. she pulled on your hair and you yourself let out a moan. caitlin pulling your hair while you ate her out was something you fantasized about for years. it was unbelievable that this was actually happening. you started sucking on her clit and brought two fingers up to her mouth. she was certainly wet enough to take your fingers without it but you’ve wanted her to suck on your fingers forever. yes it was probably too much to have all of these fantasies about your friend but it’s not your fault! she’s too hot. it’s actually her fault you have all these dirty thoughts

as caitlin sucked on your fingers you determined that the fantasy could never live up to the real thing. you pulled your fingers out of her mouth and put them inside her. you curled your fingers up into her as you continued sucking on her clit. you tried to commit her pretty noises to memory as she came closer to orgasm. she groaned your name over and over. definitely the most beautiful noise you’ve ever heard. caitlin came on your fingers and you let her ride out her orgasm. you pulled your fingers out of her and put them in your mouth. she sat up on the bed as you wiped your face. you sat up next to her and smiled

“was that good for you? do you feel more relaxed now?”

“yes that was amazing. can you do something for me? it would really help me relax”

“yes whatever you want”

“let me make you cum” your jaw dropped open and you stuttered a bit

“i-i-i mean if it would help you relax then who would i be to tell you no?” you tried-and failed-to maintain your composure at the idea of caitlin touching you. you were already distractingly wet but just thinking about her touching you sent a new surge of wetness between your legs. she gave you a dirty smile, put her hands on your hips, and tugged at your sweats and underwear

“off” she commanded. awkward nerdy off court caitlin was gone and confident cocky on court caitlin had appeared. you lifted your hips so she could take your clothes off your body. wasting no time, she immediately put her head between your legs. your fingers gripped her hair as you fought the urge to tilt your head back and close your eyes. you wanted the visual of her eating you out seared into your mind in case this was a one time thing. she pulled her head back. her eyes were wide and doe-y and her entire face was wet. fuck

“you’re so wet. is this all for me?” she teased you with your own words and you were too desperate to be cute

“yes all for you. please keep going” smirking and satisfied with your answer, caitlin continued to eat you out. she was fucking relentless as she ate you out with an intensity you’ve only ever seen from her on the court. you tried to hold off your orgasm to savor the moment but she was too much for you

“i can feel you fighting. let go” you pulled her hair as you came all over her pretty face. she sat herself up in front of you and you stared at her in awe. she slowly wiped her face while never breaking eye contact. she brought her fingers between your legs and traced your pussy with them. you inhaled deeply as she brought them to her mouth

“you’re still wet” she said with a dirty smile “what do you want?”

“what do you mean?” maybe it was your post orgasm haze or maybe the question was actually unclear, but you didn’t understand what she was getting at

“i’m going to make you cum again. how do you want it?” any and every way she was willing to give it to you. but you couldn’t be greedy

“let me ride your thigh” years of seeing her gorgeous legs in shorts made the choice obvious. she moved to the headboard, sitting up with her legs spread. you threw your legs over her thigh and lowered yourself down. caitlin’s large hands grabbed your hips and guided you up and down her thigh. you were already so sensitive from your previous orgasm, you knew you weren’t going to last long. you stared at her face as you got yourself off on her thigh. she looked so pretty all fucked out and focused on your pleasure. she flexed her muscular thigh and the sensation went right to your clit. you moaned out her name pathetically

“that’s it baby. cum for me” with another flex of her thigh, you came again with a strangled moan of her name. caitlin giggled as you caught your breath. how can she always be cute and sexy at the same time? she moved her hands from your hips to your face. she sweetly stroked your cheeks with her thumbs

“now i feel relaxed”

[raayllum]

set after 7x02. doesn't necessarily fit the prompts for today (but maybe right/wrong) for sorpeli week!

Soren is the one who tells her exactly what transpired at sunset in front of the Banther Lodge. Opeli had caught glimpses from the windows during the event—not much, but enough to be horrified—and rushed out when she realized the young queen's arrow was pointed at the crown prince, and—

High Mage Ca—Prince Callum is already gone by the time she reaches the porch, Ezran's expression as icy as the spikes still entrapping his guards' legs. She doesn't dare ask the king what's happened, his expression more dark and brooding than she's ever seen it, exchanging a mildly worried look with Corvus over his head, the crownguard staying as Ezran stalks over to his throne for the evening, quiet and shaking and angry.

Soren pulls her aside before she can go to their king.

They stand in the fading light of one of the upstair windows, his brow furrowed and her lips pursed and growing more tightly pressed together with every word that falls from Soren's mouth. Somehow, she manages to let him reach the end of his tale before she bursts, her mind spinning—brothers, betrayal, treason, the kingslayer, and the notch of Queen Aanya's arrow, and Callum's resignation—

"I cannot believe it," she hisses, not quite sure exactly what it means even to herself.

Soren gestures simply with one hand and an unimpressed raise of his eyebrow. "Can't you?"

They share a flat look, Opeli's anger deflating and withering away into something sharper. She'd never liked the girl all that much—how could she, after a two week dalliance at the castle and being an assassin and then breaking Prince Callum's heart?—and now... It means I trust her. Unconditionally.

A foolish boy blinded by love, apparently.

"This is exactly why I didn't want him to be with an elf! It divides his loyalties. It's driven him mad—"

"Whoa, wait," Soren takes her by the arm with one large hand, gentle yet firmly, the other arm folded over his chest. "She's not 'the elf'."

Opeli tsks. "Not you too. She's the reason Prince Callum—"

"She might be the motivation," Soren says. "But however I feel about Callum's choices, they're his choices. She looked as surprised to see him as anyone... Maybe Callum saw, or knows, something we don't."

"But..."

"I'm not saying King Ezran is wrong to want to imprison the assassin," Soren says, hedging his weight from foot to foot. "But he nearly had Callum shot over it. You gotta admit that Ezran isn't quite... himself, right now."

Opeli steps away, eyes downturned. "No," she agrees at least, as much as it feels counterintuitive to every instinct she has. "He's not. But he's our king, Soren. That means—"

"—we're sworn to him, I know." He studies her, eyes blue and softly scrutinizing. "How are you doing? With the king and the prince... do your loyalties feel divided?"

He phrases like he wonders if they ever could be—if there could ever be anything she'd put above her duty to the crown—and besides her faith, perhaps, she doesn't believe so.

"I am fine," she answers truthfully. The brothers will make amends. Ezran will see through this night, and Callum will return. Eventually. She's always been good at having faith.

Soren lets out a tiny snort, his lips twitching. "Of course you are." He gives her arm a little squeeze and then lets go. "Come on. We should eat something. It's going to be a long couple of days."

But, at the very least Opeli supposes, they can face it together.

[klunkcat]

50 VAGUE ANGSTY + HURT/COMFORT DIALOGUE PROMPTS

7. "Did they hurt you?" gio + author's choice :3c

This is foul, just want to say! Not my fault!!!

Gioverse can be found here - this is n!mikey centered because its me <3

His first mistake, in a long line of many, was assuming he could leave for a few hours.

Gio had mentioned in the start-stop way of his that meant more half hedging implications of noticing something than ever an outright statement, that he’d never had broccoli and cheddar cheese soup before. This was, of course, a sin that Mikey had no choice but to right as soon as possible. He’d thought he could be in an out in thirty minutes, maybe an hour tops. Swing by April’s place after giving her a call, pick up the ingredients and head back. Easy peasy. 

He and Gio had really started to crack into his recipe book lately, and the thought was a syrupy sweet palpitation in his chest. Adding one more warm thing to the repertoire of lessons he was bundling the kid in seemed like a wonderful opportunity. 

Except, of course, he’d left Gio alone with them. 

It had been a long minute since Donnie had willingly left his lab, in his defense. More often than not Mikey had to brave the mess of cold wires and empty metal to try and bring dinner to his brother that he knew in his heart of hearts would be forgotten. And Raph rarely stayed in the Lair long enough to do anything other than sleep. He hadn’t thought— well, there was the crux of it. He hadn’t thought at all. 

Returning through the front door with bags of broccoli and the fancy kind of cheddar, he’d been thinking of warmth. Of getting that rare shy smile of Gio’s to shine through once again, just for the two of them. He’d been thinking of kitchen lights and music bouncing off walls, and not at all of the echoes or the empty rooms around them. 

“ – if you think, for one second that he’d– “

“That’s the problem!” Raph’s voice thunders. Mikey’s heart takes a sharp twist and tumbles straight down to the stone floor. “I don’t know anymore. You don’t either! Just— can we stop pretending?” 

A sharp, icy scoff. “Isn’t that what you’re best at, brother of mine? Or is that just Mikey. Should we ask him?”

“Don’t,” Raph growls back. 

“Or what! You’re not even here. Am I the only one who can’t do this? This thing where we act like we can make anything better just because he’s here—” Donnie’s voice pitches up, practically a roar by the end splintering off into a thousand barbs Mikey knew he’d wrap himself in the second that he could. But where is Gio? 

There’s a crash.

The bags fall from his hands to the floor. He takes in the fact Gio’s bedroom door is open, that the lights in the living room are on and— 

It’s all noise and color. Mikey barrelling through, skidding to a stop and registering just enough to note Raph’s balled fists, Donnie’s sharp glare, and Gio, standing just behind the couch, surrounded by shards of glass. Gio’s wide eyes, looking between his brother’s and over at Mikey like he isn’t sure there was anywhere left in the world for him to go. 

No one moves except for him.

He falls to his knees instantly, scooping Gio’s face in his shaking hands. “Are you— did they hurt you? Show me your hands, buddy, okay? I’ll check, I’ll make it better, you’re safe I promise, I—” 

Gio blinks, lets Mikey fuss and turn his hands all over, placating and malleable. There’s a tiny scrape on his knee that looks old, no cuts or nicks on his hands. No red or purple rising on his dark skin. Mikey closes his eyes, leaning his forehead against Gio’s for a shaky breath. 

He feels Gio’s hands reach up and press against his palms. “I’m okay,” he whispers after a moment, voice small and trying not to shake in the way that made his voice flatter. Younger. 

It doesn’t stop him from being terrified, because Gio had grown up somewhere Mikey didn’t know, where pinches and slaps had been handed out as easily as words. And it had taken Mikey all these hard months just to get the kid to stop scanning for exits in every room they stood in, and his brother’s had been yelling.

The thought slows, grinds to a halt. His brother’s had been yelling. About him. 

He makes himself lean back. Glances over at the rest of the room. 

Raph’s face is hollowed out. A complete study in guilt, one hand reaching forward almost unthinkingly. Like the smallest shard of an old Raphie had flickered through for a microsecond before vanishing on both of them. And Donnie– 

“We didn’t know he was here.” Don says, flat as ever. 

Mikey frowns, pulling Gio more firmly into his side. “That doesn’t make it okay.” 

There’s something strange to Donnie’s expression. Guilt? It can’t be. The loss of his twin had warped him so thoroughly that Mikey could never manage to fully understand, and he knows that this Donnie is a facsimile more often than his own person, but he’d thought… It isn’t a kind thought. It isn’t a thought he’s allowed to have anymore. 

“Mikey—” Raph tries, and some of the simmering anger Mikey makes sure he doesn’t have rises up between his breaths. 

“Don’t Mikey me. You were yelling about—” his voice catches, he makes it hold. “About me, right? You think I’m playing pretend. That I don’t know how bad we are.” He remembers that Gio’s here and holds onto the reminder like a buoy in the midst of all this disappointment and hurt, and the things they never say out loud anymore trying valiantly to fight their way through. “I’m not a stupid kid anymore, of course I know!” I know more than you, I know a thousand other worlds more than you, how badly we’re broken, I’ve seen them. 

His hurt crashes against him. “Of course I’m angry! I’m tired, and it’s so hard to try but I can do it  even if you can’t, and I am trying, so just. Stay the hell away and leave Gio out of this!” 

Raph’s face twists, his good eye dropping to the floor. “We thought. I thought he was with you. We wouldn’t hurt him.”

Gio’s warm and still bendable with his need to appease at Mikey’s side. It grounds him in all the same ways it makes all of this so much worse. Wouldn’t hurt him, except they’d yell and glare and avoid, right? Wouldn’t hurt him except that they didn’t know Gio thought he didn’t belong in the one place he should always feel safe. That he thought they hated him.

He opens his mouth, some boiling betrayal burning on his lips— 

“It’s my fault.” Donnie cuts in, still blank and stiff and sharp the way he always is, now. The admission is a tiny miracle nonetheless, and Mikey’s anger dies a quiet heat death in the center of himself. He doesn’t miss the tiny lurch in Gio’s breathing at his side, though. 

No one says anything for a long, horrid moment. Donnie looking straight through Mikey like he’s alone on a dying star; and it aches– it aches all the way through to know it’s an untouchable chill Mikey can’t ever break through even when he tries, and it’s worse to think that he’s used to it, but it’s familiar all the same. Don turns his head, hands flat at his side. 

“I’m the one who can’t do this.” Love right, he means. He doesn’t mean he can’t at all. 

Mikey pulls Gio closer, like he can shield him from the misunderstanding he knows will reach the kid anyways. He feels the words hit Gio, wash over him as Donnie leaves with a hiss of his lab door clicking firmly into place. 

He doesn’t mean it, Mikey thinks of saying helplessly. Except Donnie does mean everything he says, it just exists in stone blocks and hard data now and none of the softness has anywhere to stay. 

Raph watches Donnie leave, and lets out a long sigh. He rubs a hand over his face, and ages rapidly in a thousand eye bag lines all at once. “I’m sorry, kid,” Raph mumbles. Mikey’s not sure if he means Gio. He hasn’t been Raph’s kid in a long time. 

“It’s okay,” Gio says, stiff and quiet. Raph nods to himself, eye gazing emptily at anything but them, and shuffles himself off to his room. 

It’s them, again, like always. Mikey hates the fact he’s relieved enough to let himself untense— that his brother’s could ever exist in the same sentence as danger. It hurts to realize that his instincts have been wired backwards and inverted like this, in this reality Mikey couldn’t save anything from. 

He lets Gio go with a puff of breath and forces himself to stand, tries to find the strength in himself not to cry. There’s a light in him somewhere, still, but it’s different, too. 

Maybe he has been playing pretend in a type of way. Acting like he hadn’t changed as much as everyone else, too. 

Gio’s hand touches his, briefly. “Your knees.” 

He blinks. Oh. There’s blood, patches of it on the floor in between the glittering bits of glass. For a moment he worries that he had missed something after all, that Gio had been hurt— Gio stares nervously at Mikey’s legs where he’d crashed to his knees. 

There’s bloody tears in his pant legs. He doesn’t even feel it.

“Oops,” Mikey tries to laugh. It comes out wavering and pathetic. Gio bites his lip–  isn’t that a thought. All the yelling and the anger and the sheer brokenness of their family, and Gio looks like he might actually cry just over some scrapes from Mikey being stupid. He loves this kid so much it balloons right through him constantly in endlessly shocking ways. 

I’m sorry, Mikey thinks. He’s always sorry these days. “Let me get cleaned up, okay? Then, um. How about a new recipe? Think you’ll love it.” 

Gio looks like he wants to say something, closes his mouth instead. Smiles that tiny way Mikey would burn the world down for, instead. 

Maybe they’re both pretending, really. Maybe that’s all they can do. 

___

Gio grew up cold, it’s an inescapable reality he’s forged his understanding of the world around. There’s a bone deep chill that resides within most places, rooms for things that aren’t to be kept, and stern words meant to correct in straight neat lines. There’s no space for anything else. That’s the reality, kid. 

He’d spent most his life adapting, quick as he could to make the next deadline or the next drop. Make sure he was useful but not too important to be seen, to keep the jobs coming and food for the next day available. 

There was a point A to a point B, a quickest route forward. That’s all he needed. 

When Mikey found him a lot of that had been subsequently shaken apart. A lot of things suddenly meant staying, and promises, and bright room lights that held. Suddenly, food was fun and a given, and could be asked for, and there were laughs bubbling up and bouncing back to him, and warm hands against his cheeks asking ‘are you okay’ just to know. To check. 

He knew what being warm was because he knew the cold. He considered this a gift. 

There isn’t a single atom of himself that doesn’t ache with a deep homesickness he’s not sure he’s allowed to have every second that his Mikey is lost somewhere unreachable, but he is grateful. As much as he loves his family now, and their bright silly constant thrum of life everywhere he goes, he wouldn’t ever have chosen differently. 

If he was cold for nineteen years, it was so his big brother could burn bigger in comparison. 

His family now has plenty of warmth all on their own, but he tries to burn the same way for them all the same.

It’s funny, sometimes; his stomach twists with a fond ache that’s equal parts grief and absolute relief all in one that ties his words up somewhere else he can’t touch, but he misses his Mikey in the same way he loves this one. He wonders if Mikey knows how bright he is, that it’s the bravest thing he’s ever known. He’s also so small, here. Breakable in all the ways he bounces. It’s absolutely terrifying. 

Gio had been fighting in back alley scrapes and life or death battles since he was ten, but that doesn’t mean his little brother should. 

“Did they hurt you?” He asks, scanning absolutely every inch of Mikey’s arms and face he can see. He presses carefully at his sides, where the hard shell and plastron give way to more tender spaces. Mikey giggles instead of flinching, thank god. 

“Gogo~” Mikey complains, laughter bright on his cheeks. “I’ve been in bigger fights last week.” 

“You got thrown through a wall.” 

Mikey waves a hand. “Like, a little.” 

“No, he’s right,” Leo leans over Gio’s shoulder. “That sounded pretty rough. Anything dislocated?”

Gio hates the idea abruptly that any of them know what dislocation feels like, or that it’s regular enough it wouldn’t be obvious. 

“I’m fine, really! I pinky promise double swear.” 

Leo purses his lips. “With sprinkles on top?”  

Raph’s worry sensors must ping at the commotion, because Gio can hear him abruptly switching to Mikey fussing mode from the other room. Mikey’s expression darkens, Gio switches tactics. 

“You’re okay,” he decrees, with a tiny nod. “Soup will fix it.” 

Leo’s muffled snort is worth it for the way Mikey’s eyes light up. 

“Oh! I have broccoli I’ve been meaning to use.” He immediately jumps up, luckily confirming he is in fact just fine in the same motion, and instinctively puts both hands on Gio’s cheeks with excitement. “Oh mama, you have no idea what can of worms you’ve just unleashed. I’m going to make so much soup. How about a new recipe? I think you’ll love it.” 

Gio’s heart does something funny. 

“I’m sure I will,” he smiles back. Warm enough for all of them.

[r4fe-cam3ron]

Happy New Year!

I’d like to make a request a Tangerine 🍊 x Reader story sort of inspired by Mr and Mrs Smith where the reader and him work for rival contracting companies and are ordered to take out the competition but they can’t do it cause they care too much about each other. I would love to see the angsty tension.

Thank you ❤️

hiii babes!!! happy newwww year!! thank you for this request, and thank you for also being patient with me! i hope you enjoy <3 w; mentions of guns and blood — of course!

you almost hack up a lung onto the polished floors that were now splattered with tiny blood drops.

the heels you wear are surprisingly still holding up, though you couldn’t say the same about your dress or hair. the sweat that covers your face had ruined a bit of your make up — eyeshadow and eyeliner smudged.

tangerine still thought you looked beautiful — laying out on the floor, arms trying to find their strength to push yourself up, the ripped dress, and smudged makeup with faded red lipstick.

he slowly walks over, looking down at you as he wipes under his nose, freeing it from the caked on blood.

your eyes slowly lift to look up at him, teeth grinding. he clicks his tongue. “i told you, love, that’s not good for your teeth.”

gaining what strength you had remaining, you stumble to your feet. his hands quickly reach out, clutching your biceps.

pushing against his chest, your jaw clenches. “you don’t get to tell me what to do and what not to do,” you snap. tan smirks when he sees that fire reappearing in your eyes. “we don’t like each other.”

“that’s were you’re—”

throwing a punch, he easily catches your hand, twisting your arm and body, before yanking your back towards his chest.

“as i was saying,” his voice lowers and your eyes cut over. “that’s were you’re wrong. i happen to think we both are very, very fond of one another.”

your nose flares. “in your dreams, fruitcake.”

you elbow his stomach, his grip releasing to try and hold your other arm. you quickly turn and knee him, running past him.

he doubles over, grunting in pain. he watches as you enter the code once, twice, three times before pulling out the black case that held the emerald.

slowly lifting at the hips, he looks towards the door. he was still hidden from sight, but you weren’t. the man slowly steps in, trying to remain quiet.

tangerine slowly reaches for his gun, shooting him before he could shoot you — that should be his job …. if it ever came down to it (it has. several times. he just never did.).

you flinch at the sound, quickly spinning around, eyes wide as you watch the man slowly fall to his knees. they lift and stare at tangerine who keeps his arm lifted, eyes burning holes into your skull.

you gulp from the look.

his knuckles turn white from the grip, before returning back to the pale color that was light against all the cuts and gashes and scars around his skin there.

“well?” you ask finally, back straightening.

“well, what?” he snaps.

“aren’t you gonna shoot me? get the emerald?”

his eyes drop to the velvet box in your hand before lifting to meet your own defiant eyes once again. he inhales, nose flaring slightly.

his finger slides across the trigger.

do it. pull it. grab the box and run.

slowly dropping his arm, he stuffs the gun back into the waistband of his pants, stepping over the male that lies in a puddle of blood. you back up slowly, back grazing the wall.

“this is the last time you win.”

you stare up at him, lips parted. you practically had watched this man crumble in front of you. before you could say anything, he’s turning and walking out of the room — leaving you speechless and with a velvet box in hand.

[ditzydoe444]

MDNI 18+

rewarding jason in his truck ( ˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵ )

age gap! jason x innocent! reader

jason todd smut part 1 - part 2 wip

you had gone on a few dates with jason now during the summer, and the two of you had gotten quite close. he had taken you down to the beach nearby and was driving you back home. despite the age difference between you two, conversations flowed quite nicely, never any awkward silence. “so sweetheart, how did you find the date?” jason asked, his gaze quickly drifting away from the road to stare at you.

you smiled shyly, there was just something about having a bigger and older man talking to you and giving you attention. “it was really good, i liked the beach,” you replied, gently tugging your skirt down. it was summer and you had decided to wear the filmiest mini dress ever, the material was so thin it rode up every second. you turned to face jason to see his response, but you swore you saw his gaze was on your legs before quickly returning back to the road. “that’s good, i want to make you happy,” he responded gruffly, his knuckles turning white from how hard he gripped the steering wheel.

the two have you have only kissed, growing up in a sheltered household you rarely knew anything about sex. jason knew and respected your boundaries which you were respectful of. though after talking to some of your friends who asked about your sex life and whether or not the two of you have slept together, you couldn’t help but become curious about what it is. hence why you spent countless nights locked in your room watching the filthiest things, a man fucking a girl on all fours spanking her, a girl getting her mouth fucked and more.

slowly, you couldn’t help but get turned on, the slight damp patch on your panties was what started it. you touched yourself thinking about jason, what it would be like to have his huge arms wrapped around you whilst he fucked you like the guys did in the videos you watched. so for the past week, you found yourself shoving your fingers up your tight cunt pretending it was jason’s. though you couldn’t help but to feel slightly guilty, this was a new thing for you and it almost seemed scandalous.

you turned your gaze back to jason who was focused on the road. he was big. one of his thighs was big enough where you could sit comfortably, his biceps were huge essentially the size of your head. his hands were large enough to encircle your whole waist, so you couldn’t help but wonder how big he was under his pants. though you quickly snapped out of your thoughts when jason spoke up.

“what are you think’ about sweetheart?” he asked softly, making your cheeks flush. “nothing,” you shrugged, “i just really liked the date that’s all,” you smiled. he let out a low chuckle, “i really enjoyed the date too,” he grinned kissing the back of your hand that he always held when driving.

suddenly you have an idea, an idea you clearly shouldn’t be thinking about. you fidgeted in your seat, deciding if you should even act on it. jason had been treating you so well for the past few weeks that it would be nice to give him something back.

slowly, you kissed the back of his hand, not missing out on how he gave a lazy grin at the touch. “feelin’ affectionate today hm?” he asked. you shouldn’t, but god you really wanted to. slowly, your hands reached out to his lap, touching the leather belt softly. “what are you doin’ sweetheart?” jason asked lowly, his voice more gruff.

“saying thank you,” you smiled shyly before you clumsily fidgeted with the belt. after you finally removed the belt, throwing it in the back seat you unzipped his pants. god, he filled out those pants so well. they weren’t tight by any means, slightly on the bigger and bagged size, but god jason was so big you could see how his thighs looked when he sat. “you sure about this sweetheart? you really don’t need to do this.”

you didn’t care, god you were soaked through your panties you were pretty sure you were going to leave a mark on the truck’s seat. you felt the outline of his hard cock, and god was he big. usually you would’ve been shy, and god wouldn’t even think about doing this, but you were so eager to please him. you tugged his boxer briefs a little lower until you freed his cock.

he was big, a good eight and a half inches if not even more, and his fat tip was already leaking with precum whilst two prominent veins went from the base to the tip. he was a greek god. slowly you pumped your hands up and down on it, gaining a hiss from jason. “sweetheart,” he groaned. seeing him at your mercy turned you on, and god the idea of sucking him off whilst driving? you were soaked.

slowly you leaned closer, bending over the center console. this wasn’t a comfortable position but you didn’t care about your own needs right now. you licked up from the base to the tip, tasting the slightly salty liquid. you then slowly took him in your mouth inch by inch, and your eyes started to water from his sheer size.

“fuck sweetheart,” jason groaned at the feeling of your wet mouth on him. it took you a while to fully adjust to his size, your mouth stretched out beyond belief. you were already making a mess, your saliva coated his cock, whilst it dribbled down your chin, and your hands were wet and sticky from it. you hummed in contentment, as he took one hand rubbing the back of your head.

you continued bobbing your head up and down, occasionally gagging. however, you pulled back when you felt the car stop. looking up both disorientated and a mess you saw how he had pulled over on the side of the highway. “come on baby,” jason said breathlessly as he patted his thighs. obediently, you followed, straddling him. “you made a mess,” he grinned, seeing the sight of the passenger seat with a damp spot.

you let out a moan when he slipped his hands under your panties, rubbing your clit. “such a pretty little thing and all wet for me, hm?” a whine let your mouth when he ripped your panties off, and shoved your dress up, exposing your bare cunt. “think you can take my fingers sweetheart?” he asked softly, one of his hands caressing your cheeks.

nerves settled down your stomach, but jason was so soft and understanding that you didn’t feel judged. shyly, you nodded. “knew you could do it,” he grinned, his fingers playing with your pussy here one sank in slowly. immediately your grip tightened on his shoulders, your face scrunching up. “i know sweetheart, i know, just a little bit and i promise it gets better alright?” jason cooed softly, kissing your tears away.

it wasn’t long until you adjusted, bouncing and riding his fingers eagerly. you were pretty damn sure you could come on his hands alone. “j-jay,” you whined, your knees buckling ever so slightly. “i know, i know,” he gently whispered, his hands encircling your waist, rubbing the area softly. “you can do it, just don’t stop or hold it on ok?”

though you struggled with not holding it in, the feeling was weird, something unsettling. “what did i say about holding it in?” jason spoke, narrowing his eyes seeing how you were denying your own orgasm. you shook your head, tears streaming down your face, “c-can’t jay,” you whined pathetically. “you can, and you will,” he said firmly. the moment jason pinched your clit you came hard. god you were pretty damn sure you saw stars.

you sank onto his chest, clinging onto him like your life depended on it. “knocked you out with one orgasm?” jason chuckled, his large hand gently rubbing your back. “you’re gonna need to work on your stamina sweetheart, ‘m gonna give you more than one.”

you looked up, you were a complete mess. your hair was stuck to your forehead, mascara running down your cheeks with your lipstick was all smudged. “more than one?” you asked weakly, you were already limp from his fingers alone, how could you possibly take his dick and another orgasm?

“yeah baby, what kind of man would i be to just give you one orgasm?” jason gave a smirk, you already felt his fat tip nudging your cunt. “come on, you looked so good right now, it’ll be a crime to not take you again.”

[awardenandacrow]

FANFIC SNIPPET 22

NOTE: Chronologically Follows Snippet #18

[Bellara and Lucanis inadvertently learn Rook’s favorite breakfast food]

CW/TW: mention of food insecurity, poverty, and slavery; brief strong language

——————————————————————————

Hunger pains drew Naimeryn from sleep perhaps sooner than she would have liked. She grumbled and rubbed her eyes, remembering suddenly that with all the excitement of settling Lucanis in, she’d never eaten anything that could be considered dinner. She sighed. Up and at ‘em, then.

She shed the night wrap and left it laying on the couch, shrugging into an old tunic and a pair of worn trousers. She grabbed her hair bands and headed out the door, braiding as she went. She’d been wearing her hair the same way for so long she could usually get it right without a mirror, but also, if they were uneven or crooked, she doubted anyone would be paying enough attention to her to notice.

The library and courtyard were both silent and empty, and she wondered if she were the only one up. As she reached the door to the kitchen, she hesitated. It was probably a good bet the assassin who had just spent a year in a Venatori prison was a light sleeper. She’d have to be quiet. Thankful the Fade didn’t find squeaky hinges aesthetic, Naimeryn opened the door just enough to slip inside.

It had been unnecessary. Lucanis stood by the fireplace, a cup of Harding’s tea in hand. He glanced over his shoulder as she entered. Caught off guard, she gave him a nervous little wave — and then felt immensely stupid, and quickly put her hand back down. Why was interacting with him so *hard?!*

“Good morning,” he acknowledged her, turning fully away from the fire.

“Morning,” she returned, opting to just head to the kitchen rather than make a further fool of herself by trying to actually *talk* to him. She rummaged around for the pan and a carton of eggs, waving her hand to start the fire in the oven. She’d just started cracking the eggs into the pan when the kitchen door opened again, and Bellara wandered in with a yawn and a big stretch.

“Oh! Good morning, Lucanis! Did you sleep well? I know your bed’s in the pantry, but was it better than — oh I shouldn’t ask that, I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Lucanis assured her. He sounded exhausted, and Naimeryn couldn’t help but notice he hadn’t answered her question. He.. *had* slept, hadn’t he?

Well, he *had* told her he tried not to sleep much. But… he had to get *some* sleep.

“Morning, Rook!”

“Morning, Bel,” she said quickly. She should focus on her task, not how well Lucanis did or didn’t sleep. “Do either of you want eggs? I think there’s enough for everyone, but we’ll have to remember to grab more.”

“Are you hard boiling them again?” Bellara wanted to know.

“Too hungry,” Naimeryn shook her head, flipping the first two eggs in the pan. “Didn’t remember to eat dinner. Frying these. Could make scrambled — while I eat these.”

Bellara giggled. “Scrambled, please. Rook makes decent eggs,” she told Lucanis.

“Don’t ask me to make anything else though,” Naimeryn laughed, dumping her eggs onto a plate and starting on Bellara’s scramble. Milk, salt, pepper. “We’ll need more milk soon, Bel.”

“Every morning she’s in here making eggs,” Bellara continued as though she hadn’t spoken. “They must be your favorite, huh, Rook?”

Naimeryn shoved a mouthful of egg into her face and started whisking Bellara’s. She swallowed quickly and shook her head.

“I actually hate them,” she laughed at herself. She poured Bellara’s breakfast into th pan to cook. “But they’re really the only thing I know how to make. My whole childhood, eggs and bread were really the only thing we could consistently count on having to eat, because they were cheap. In Denerim, no one noticed or seemed to care if you stole some from the coop. And the magister had so many chickens, that was basically all they ever fed us.

“Old habits die hard, I guess,” she concluded, depositing Bellara’s plate in front of her. As she did, she caught the expressions on both of their faces. Surprise, concern, confusion… maybe even some pity?

“Oversharing,” she said uncomfortably. “My bad. Uh, Lucanis, eggs?”

“After that speech?” He asked, shaking his head.

“Sorry,” Naimeryn mumbled, returning to the pan and cracking three more into it. She dropped her eyes to her plate as she scarfed down what was left of the first two.

“What *do* you like for breakfast, Rook?” Bellara wanted to know, the scrape of her fork letting Naimeryn know *she* at least had not lost her appetite. Bless her for trying to salvage the morning. Naimeryn finished what was in her mouth before answering.

“I’ve only had them once, but… I really like *pancakes*,” she admitted with a sigh, flipping her next batch of eggs. “I tried teaching myself to make them, but I always seem to make the batter too thick, or too thin, or I burn them, or they stick and I can’t flip them. I dunno. It’s easier to just make eggs.”

“I make a mean pancake,” Bellara grinned.

“Really?” Naimeryn looked up at her. “Could you teach me?”

“Sure, of course!” Bellara nodded, finishing her eggs. “Next time we go shopping, I’ll make sure we get what we need.”

“That would be really great,” Naimeryn smiled, dumping her remaining eggs onto her plate and dousing the oven fire. Suddenly they seemed even less appealing than they had before. She crossed to the table and sat next to Bellara.

“Rook!” The other elf cried suddenly, reaching out and shoving her braid out of the way. “Your neck!”

Naimeryn grimaced. “Fucker grabbed me pretty hard. He leave bruises?”

“Neve didn’t mention he grabbed your *neck*,” Bellara frowned, inspecting the damage intently. “How dare he?”

“I’m all right, Bel,” Naimeryn smiled. “I was just distracting him so Lucanis here could finish the job.”

She nodded to their new companion. She felt bad deflecting Bellara’s attention to him, but also she didn’t like being fussed over. Varric needed her to be the one in charge. She needed to do better.

“Erm, yes,” Lucanis looked uncomfortable, making her guilt double down. “A most effective distraction.”

…

SHE. HATES. EGGS?

Lucanis did his best to ignore Spite.

SHE’S EATING. A LOT OF EGGS.

“Yes,” Lucanis mumbled into his cup as Bellara fretted over Rook’s neck and Rook proceeded to wolf down her least favorite food like she hadn’t eaten in a week. Was forgetting to eat a common occurrence?

WHY? Spite hovered over Rook and pointed at her empty plate. WHY EAT IF NO LIKE?

*The same reason I’m drinking this damned tea,* Lucanis grimaced.

Rook glanced up at him and said, “…so Lucanis here could finish the job.”

Mierda. He hadn’t been listening to them.

"Erm, yes,” he said quickly. Bellara had been upset about the bruises Calivan left — was Rook trying to pass that off as an intentional distraction again? “A most effective distraction.”

Rook dropped her gaze to her plate, noticed it was empty, and… pouted? She must still be hungry. He’d done a quick inventory of the kitchen and pantry while the others slept. How the four of them had been surviving on such bare minimum supplies, or why, he couldn’t fathom. He mulled it over for a moment, then excused himself to the pantry.

There was no reason Rook should go hungry. There were potatoes, and various spices labeled in flowing script, and he’d seen an onion, and a small amount of oil. Not much, but something.

Bellara was yammering away to Rook when he returned with the ingredients in hand. Spite followed him, staring intently at the food, but was mercifully silent in his apparent curiosity.

“Whatcha got there?” Rook quipped, craning her neck as he passed them.

“Not much,” he said truthfully. “And generally you would eat it *with* your eggs, but after should not be a problem, I don’t think. Do you like potatoes? Onions?”

“Sure…?” She sounded… unconvincing.

“Lucanis, do you cook?” Bellara asked excitedly.

“I do,” he nodded, then indicated the oven to Rook as a question. She smirked at him, standing slightly to blow a small fireball off her fingertips, over the chairs, and into the chamber. Mierda. He turned quickly to begin his task.

“It has, of course, been some time,” he continued, beginning to peel the potatoes.

“Do you need help?” Both women asked in unison, then dissolved into giggles. Lucanis wasn’t sure if it was endearing… or annoying. It had been so long since he’d simply… existed in the same place as other people.

“I don’t,” he said. Hesitated. “But if one of you wanted to dice the onion? I would not object.”

He actually hated the idea. But… he’d be working with these people. He should know if they knew their way around a knife. And he should probably *attempt* to be… friendly, at least.

Two chairs scraped the floor, then Bellara spoke.

“Oh, um. Rook, why don’t… *I* do it? You did the mission yesterday, and I’m sure you’re tired..”

Rook chuckled. “It’s okay Bel. I already admitted all I can cook is eggs. You can say you don’t want me preparing your food.”

“No, no, it’s not that. I mean you just made me those eggs. And they were great!”

“But you don’t want to risk me leaving behind a fingertip?”

“Rook —“

“It’s okay Bellara. I’m teasing. Go show that onion who’s boss.”

Before long, Lucanis had the potatoes sizzling. The door opened twice more, ushering in both Neve and Lace in turn. Both commented on the amazing smell, then expressed surprise that it was Lucanis cooking. He was glad Bellara had reminded him they should make enough for them, as well, even if Lace seemed somewhat… apprehensive. A healthy dose of suspicion in that one.

He decided their constant chatter amongst themselves was odd, but not as disruptive as he’d feared. When the hash was finished, he scooped a serving onto five plates. Bellara helped him pass them out. He sat across from Rook, waiting to take a bite until she had.

She was talking to Neve about going to Minrathos that day. She finished her sentence, then stabbed a few cubes of potato without really looking at her plate, and popped them into her mouth.

Rook made a surprised noise, and her eyes got wide. For a split second, he was nervous, but then they closed. She began to chew with an audible “mmmm!”

Neve started to laugh. “All right there, Rook?”

Rook’s blush started across her cheekbones and rapidly spread to her nose and up to the tips of her ears. Her eyes flew back open and she swallowed quickly. Lucanis began to eat, disappointed her enjoyment had been interrupted, though he wasn’t really sure *why*. It was of course always nice when someone liked something you’d made. It had been a long while since he’d experienced it.

“I’m so sorry,” Rook said, dropping her eyes to her plate and beginning to push the potatoes around with her fork. “This is just… really good.”

“What did they feed you at Weisshaupt, anyway?” Lace asked. Lucanis beginning to eat seemed to have been reassuring enough to her that he hadn’t poisoned them all, as she cautiously took a bite.

Weisshaupt… a Grey Warden then. He wouldn’t have guessed if he’d had a hundred guesses. He’d never met a Warden so… animated.

I TOLD YOU. SHE SMELLS LIKE. BLIGHT.

Well, that was true. Now he knew why Spite had said that.

“Mead and bread, mostly,” Naimeryn chuckled. “And potatoes sometimes, but never like this.”

She indicated her plate with her fork and finally took another bite.

“No meat?” Bellara wanted to know.

“Oh sure, for special occasions,” she shrugged. “I’m sure the higher ranking Wardens eat whatever they want, whenever they want, but there’s a lot of us in Weisshaupt at any one time, and feeding what’s essentially a standing army with a collectively ravenous appetite isn’t cheap.”

“You know Rook,” Neve said thoughtfully, “if you’re not careful, I’m going to start feeling sorry for you.”

“What? Why?” She asked earnestly, but Neve only chuckled.

“When we’re in Dock Town later, remind me. I’ll treat you to my favorite fried fish.”

Rook perked up. “Really? I’ve always wanted to try fish!”

The kitchen lapsed into awkward silence. Rook’s face went red again, and she quickly looked back to her plate again.

“Sorry… I mean, you don’t have to do that. I can get myself lunch.”

Long after the others had gone, and Lucanis washed the dishes from the meal, the exchange continued to play over and over again in his head. Rook was an open book. Not exactly a wise trait for the leader of a team out to hunt down actual gods to have. He remembered Spite’s taunt from the night before.

*HOW SWEET.* the demon had said.

She… *was.* And if it were an act, she was the best damn actress he’d ever met.

The dishes done, Lucanis hunted down a scrap of paper, and a pen. It was a modest kitchen, but he didn’t need it to be gourmet to make sure these women *survived.*

He shook his head. It was incomprehensible to him how they’d done so until now.

And with that thought, he began to make a list.

[unknownati]

xii. never lose me

a/n: (i lost the ask so sorry to that anon, hope u still find this 💀 but the ask was like: can you make a fic based off never lose me by flo milli? with smut)

happy new year my loves!

sorry this took so long im such a slow writer. plus im braindead asf. ik i said i had to proofread this in my last post but i lied i didnt 😬

nooobody ask me where he got all this money cuz baby idk. i hope some of this stuff is correct bc i am not rich 😭

warnings/tags: smut 👻, fem!black!reader, no use of y/n, no desc of reader's physical features BUT reader dresses feminine (think aliyahsinterlude), modern!ekko, boat sex yay, semi-public(?), risky, backshots 🎉, oral (e! recieving), reader getting spoiled, soft dom!ekko, so loosely inspired by the song, not proofread. raw vibe

_______________________________________________

ekko goes above and beyond treating you right.

anything you want, all yours. that new purse? check your mailbox. you need your nails done? here's $300, keep the change, don't worry about it. he always makes sure you're pleased, even if you don't ask. he knows everything about you by heart. favorite flowers, favorite foods, plus your usual orders, so it's not uncommon to come home to food on the table with a fresh vase of florals seated next to it.

of course, nothing about this relationship was ever one sided. there is no one who prances around announcing that ekko is your man quite like you do. you make sure ekko knows that if he ever needs you, no matter what, you're there.

in return, you get whatever you want.

"ekko," you sing, putting your phone down in the cup holder. your hand rests over ekko's, which has a gentle grip on your thigh. crickets chirp outside, veiled beneath the dark sky and lack of light. you're speeding down an empty backroad on your way back home from a little shopping spree at a mall an hour and some change away. "i wanna go somewhere."

he hums. "where were you thinking?"

"dunno yet," you lean your weight onto the center console, maybe somewhere in asia."

"yeah?" he asks, squeezing the fat of your thigh. you smile wide. "sure. let me know when you decide."

"i will, thanks baby," you chirp, gently pulling his hand up your thigh and closer to your center. his fingers catch on the hem, pushing your denim skirt up and gently pressing his thumb into your clit. he's rubbing featherlight circles into it, running over the lacy underwear he bought for you a while back. your gasp is barely heard beneath the music.

the engine whirrs, and you see the speedometer shoot up.

so impatient.

.:*☆

it truly didn't take long for ekko to book that flight. you said the place, and about 30 minutes later everything was set in stone.

excitement rushed through your body as you packed, making sure to tuck your matching sets beneath your clothes. he deserved some type of reward, right?

when you finally arrived at your hotel, late into the night, jet-lagged to all hell, you couldn't help but ask ekko if he needed some help. he did everything, all you did was walk around, complain about your feet hurting a bit, and cling to his arm. regardless, he insisted you worried about nothing and just got comfy for the night because he had something big planned tomorrow.

never would you have ever guessed that you'd end up on a cruiser yacht.

he had you blindfolded after you returned to the hotel from eating and shopping, promising that you'd love it and that you just needed to be patient and trust him. you did; no hesitation there.

and once he slipped it off after your minor freak-out wondering what you're stepping onto that has to be so wobbly, it took your breath away.

the sun sinks below the horizon, yellow rays glittering off of the water. your hands met his, perched on your hips, looking back to find his prideful grin.

"ekko..." you pout.

"iii know, i'm a great boyfriend, you love me, i know," he jokes, chuckling as you walk around the cockpit, marveling the fact that you're on one. "it'll leave soon, there's a cooler with drinks, and i can take pictures for you."

you smile wide. "my personal photographer. in fact, take some of me right now before the sun sets," you rush to hand him your phone, quickly posing yourself in front of the scene.

ekko took taking photos for you so seriously, genuinely telling you how to switch your posing and expression, and without missing a beat always hyping you up to the third degree.

so when you heard nothing from ekko, no 'oooh's or 'mhm's, you turned to him.

"ekko?"

"sorry, you're just..." he laughs sheepishly, avoiding your gaze as if he wasn't the key to your heart. "so pretty."

you roll your eyes. "you're so corny."

the tone of your voice completely betrayed your words, honeyed and bashful. he catches it, shaking his head and raising the camera again.

"right—okay, let's try this again."

.:*☆

the pictures came out great. you wanted to wait until you got home to pick your favorites to post, but all of them were so good that you didn't know which one to pick.

you leaned against the railing, staring out into deep night, city lights twinkling in the distance. the cool sea breeze rushes against your skin, the salty scent of the ocean flooding around you. it was too good of an opportunity to not take more.

"ekko, take a few more for me?"

he hums, not a moment of protest, finding your phone and settling into the seat opposite of you.

you take your seat as well, your torso twisted and legs crossed. his mouth opens—'move your leg a little' rests on his tongue, until he inspects your gaze through the phone. you weren't quite looking at the camera, but rather...behind it.

"you okay?"

you nod. "yeah...you look good as fuck over there."

he fumbles over his words for a moment, looking down at his attire. "in my spiderman shirt?"

"mhm, especially in your spiderman shirt," you look him up and down, eyes sliding over his muscles. "come back over here real quick?"

he's surprised he didn't trip from how quickly he scrambled over to you, sitting in the seat beside you. his smile is poorly hidden as you crawl into his lap. his hands find your waist, pulling you closer.

you direct his face up, fingers gently pushing at his chin, leaning down to lock your lips together.

his hands roam your body—clearly too impatient—fingers pushing beneath your shirt, pulling up and revealing your bra. intricate lace, almost in a floral pattern, dyed a dusty pink that was barely visible under the moonlight. the cups had a deep cut, plunging down from your collar bone to the bottom of your sternum with a dainty little decorative bow.

you literally feel him getting hard. he looks up, fingers running along the band. "this for me?"

"sure is." you nod, reaching down to tug your skirt down. the hem of your matching panties peek out. "you like 'em?"

"do i?" he glances above the short barrier at the captain, who isn't paying an ounce of attention. just humming in his own world, only focused on the path they were going on. perfect.

"shit..." his lips reconnect with yours before trailing down, sucking hickies into your skin, tightly squeezing your thighs, brows furrowing.

you can already tell he's going to find a way to seat you right on his face so you stop him—not because you don't want that, but you've been spoiled enough for one day—pushing his shoulders back and getting off of him.

he looked like a kicked puppy when you separated from him and you just roll your eyes, sinking down onto your knees with a wide smile. it all connects for him and he relaxes against the seat, lips parting as you quickly unbutton his pants, your nail hooking at the band of his trunks. you tug, down, down, down, until his dick springs free and lightly taps his naval.

you waste no time, your lips meeting the base, then parting to let your tongue run up a vein that lead you to the sensitive tip.

ekko shivers, eyes shifting from the arch in your back to your lips, leaving glossy stamps all along his length.

you, on the other hand, kept your eyes locked onto his. he kept averting his gaze. for what, you weren't sure. but you tapped his tip against your tongue, capturing his attention. finally, his eyes meet yours. now you feel like you can continue.

you kiss the tip again, smiling up at him as you allow it to breach your lips, sliding into your mouth agonizingly slow.

"fuuuck," he drags, watching you slowly sink down, taking almost all of it yet stopping where your lips met your fingers.

you get acquainted with the feeling, adjusting your tongue to press against the skin. your cheeks hollow, your head slowly falling into a bobbing movement, stroking him alongside your movements.

he struggles to not thrust straight up into your mouth, gripping the edge of the leather cushions. one hand meets the back of your head but doesn't push or pull, just rests there.

his hips twitch, torso relaxing against the back of the seat, growing rigid whenever your tongue ran across just the right spot. his chest rises and falls rapidly, quickly drawing in breaths then moaning them right out.

your jaw already started to ache, but looking up at him as he falls apart from just your mouth is beyond worth it. he shakes his head, eyes leaving yours, squeezing shut, and you can tell he's already close.

his hand leaves your head, forearm laying against his forehead. you tap him, a reminder. look at me. he peeks down, a breathy chuckle pushing through.

"doin' so good for me, yeah? 'm close—" he warns you—you nod in acknowledgment.

you unhinge your jaw, sticking your tongue out so he can watch his cum spill all over it,

he sucks air in through his teeth, and before you know it you're bent over the seat, looking out onto the horizon. you start to speak and he just shushes you, tugging your skirt up and pulling your panties to the side. soaked.

maybe you were just too impatient, because before he could even get comfortable you were reaching back to put it in. his laugh rings behind you, shooing your hand away so he can finish sinking all the way inside you.

his pelvis meets your ass and you almost caught a glimpse of the back of your skull. he started slow, gripping your waist and bringing you back to meet his strokes.

you're squeezing around him so tight, and all he can do is stare in awe at it. his length glistens, coated in your juices. then he couldn't take it, his pace quickening, watching the fat of your ass recoil against his movements.

it feels euphoric, almost unreal. staring out into the night sky, stars twinkling above you, ocean swaying below you, and ekko thrusting into your heat, moaning behind you—it was overwhelming, it had your flesh running hot.

"feels good?" he questions, though your gasps and mewls answer loud and clear.

"fuck, yes."

"mhm, you're mine, right?"

"a-all yours." you nod.

"all mine?" he asks, and it's rhetorical. not like you could reply anyway, because your moans caught in your throat, rendering any chance you had at words useless.

your noises drowned beneath the whirring of the motor paired with the water swaying beneath you, which you're endlessly grateful for. you're lucky that driver pays almost no attention to what's happening behind him.

you were especially loud, and it only got worse as you felt your orgasm building. ekko knew it too, the way your voice shook, the way you tightened around him, the way you begged him not to stop—it was pushing him over the edge too.

"fuck, that's it. just like that. i got you, okay? good."

your cries overlap ekko's softer groans as you came, your form trembling, jolts of pleasure coursing throughout your body as he fucked you through it.

he had to hold back from coming inside you, letting you ride out your high before pulling out to release all over your back.

he gives you no time to recover, immediately diving in for another round, intoxicated with the way you gasps caught in your throat, holding onto the seat for dear life.

he leans down, his lips meeting your shoulder, his brows furrowed. it did not take long for the two of you to get close again, still sensitive from your previous release. within a few minutes, your juices coat his length and another load lands on your back, seeping down and settling into the dip of your spine.

you're both catching your breath, ekko presses a kiss to the shell of your ear, and you have to stop him from kissing you more. "we're almost there," you hiss, and he huffs, lifting off of you to get himself together,

thank god there were paper towels on board. he cleans his release off of your back and skirt, managing to get the both of your appearances together by the time the yacht met the docks.

the moment the captain comes back to thank you for riding with him, ekko's giving him the quickest thank you possible along with his tip and rushing you off of the boat.

"let's get back to the room? i just wanna see that set you have on a little better."

you know that the second that door closes behind you in the hotel, there is not a chance you'll be stopping.

__________________________________________

pssst!: not the most confident in this one.,. i will make up for this one i swear 😔 locking in!

maybe a part 2 with what happens at the hotel cough cough

[anachronic-cobra]

In fact you know what? Snippet introspection from Telemachus about Odysseus that ends in OdyPen fluff.

-----

How long does it take to deify a mortal man?  A lifetime?  A day?  For a frightened boy worried for his mother, perhaps twenty years?

Telemachus sighed with the weight of his young world, leaning against the windowsill.  The palace was silent today.  His parents had gone on an outing, leaving their son to ponder in peace. 

Twenty years was so long to imagine a person.  A lifetime, even.

Telemachus' mother had plenty of stories to tell him in his childhood, of course, but the air of sorrow she could never seem to hide from him had permeated every word.  When he was ten, the stories stopped.  He'd learned quickly not to ask why; the misty look to his mother's eye and her wobbly smile had haunted him long into his teenage years.

He hadn't truly understood why she seemed so sorrowful until he grew older, particularly when those... those dogs invaded their home and gorged themselves on their hospitality.  They'd been cordial guests at first, but it hadn't lasted long once they came to realize Telemachus couldn't do anything of value to stop them.  The cruel words had started then, taunts about his father that felt like hollow wounds.

The sting of them was nothing compared to the way his mother looked when someone finally flaunted his father's presumed death aloud.  It was as though the man had struck her across the face.  That was the first time Telemachus had tried to fight back, seventeen years old and weaponless.  The fact that the man didn't even bother to wound him was almost more humiliating than the defeat itself.

Twenty years of amorphous emotion, never really certain what he thought of his father.  Was he angry he'd left?  No, not truly.  He'd heard what the messenger Palamedes had done to coerce his father into leaving, endangering Telemachus' own life to force his hand.  In honesty, Telemachus couldn't even say he'd missed his father; it wasn't as if he'd ever met him.  He mourned the idea of him, certainly.  There was nothing more in the world Telemachus had ever wanted than to live up to the name of Odysseus.  He wanted his father to see him and take pride in his son when he returned.

He had wanted to be more than the cowering boy who'd let those men torment his mother for three years in his own home.

The prince had all that and more now.  His father was home, Telemachus had aided him in destroying the monsters who'd harmed them, he'd been held in his father's arms and they'd cried their hearts out for a reunion twenty years late.

Yet, somewhere in the private corners of his mind, Telemachus wondered if it had truly been enough to make up for the time it took.  If anything could be enough.  If having his father back was even worth the pain of having waited.

It wasn't a thought he ever voiced aloud.  It was only for him, a soot spot on his mind he couldn't wash away.  He had a father now.  Odysseus hugged him on a daily basis, as if afraid he'd disappear the moment he was out of sight.  But they didn't know each other.  Was twenty years too long a wait?  Was it wrong for Telemachus to still be hurt?  What if they hated each other if they got to know one another?  Was it even still worth... trying?

Voices began to drift from somewhere down the hill.

"...build a palace on top of a hill?" he heard his mother's teasing voice.  His parents rounded a corner down the path, Odysseus stopping to stretch his back.

"Well you see, my heart," his father groaned as he eased the ache in his spine, "you simply had to be admiring the olive trees when I first saw you.  You were such a stunning sight, how could I not build a monument to my love for you?"

"And yet such a climb to return to!" There was no true upset in his mother's voice. Truthfully, it was lighter than Telemachus could ever recall hearing it.  A smile tugged at his lips.

"Well, my dear, what sort of husband would I be if I didn't treat my love to a picnic in the orchards?"  His father was dramatic in his tone, as though the very thought was an unforgivable travesty.

"My love, you say you would move the earth for me, and yet you cannot move the trees?" His mother was similarly dramatic.  Telemachus stifled a laugh lest it drift down to them and interrupt the moment.

"Well I would, my Penelope, but you see, there appears to be a palace in the way!"  With a bright burst of laughter, Odysseus ran from his wife, who seemed to forget the tiredness of her bones as she chased him up the hill like a child.  She tackled him, sending them both sprawling into the grass.  His father cradled his mother gently as they landed with a careful roll, Penelope laying over Odysseus in a giggly pile of limbs.

Telemachus wasn't certain when he'd last heard his mother laugh.  He ducked back from the window.

"My Odysseus, my bones are getting too old for this," his mother giggled.

"I'm glad for it," said his father, voice so quiet Telemachus barely heard it.  "It means I am growing old with you."

The son of Odysseus blinked rapidly, swallowing the lump in his throat.

Perhaps it was worth it.

Hey, don't cry. Odysseus and Penelope walking up the hill to the palace after a picnic in the orchards, giggling at each other about how this climb seems so much longer now that their bones are middle aged because it means they get to grow old together, okay? ❤️

[trevisos]

feeling insane