#this made me audibly cackle

[every-single-day]

y’know what?

*brodifies your grantifer*

You guys are starting to be funnier than me stop it

[thesilliestofgals]

Spoilers for Workin' Boys under the cut!

DJFHJSJHFHS LINDA

[paranormaljones]

Random but YOURE SO PRETTY!! sorry if that sounds creepy 👏😭

AAAAA THANK YOU SO MUCH AND NO THAT'S NOT CREEPY honestly it kind of made my night, that's very sweet of you to say.

[rainofthetwilight]

still cant get over that one time ninjago became among us

[uppastthejelliclemoon]

Tugger: I don't know, the idea that your personal demons now live outside your body is kinda cool. Mistoffelees: Oh, it's very cool. I'm already planning on not telling anyone about them so I can use them to scare the living daylights out of people on a regular basis. Tugger: Wow, Mist. Why are you like this? Mistoffelees: Childhood trauma.

[starheirxero]

Today, for reasons I'm too afraid to know, I dreamed about buying ultrakill

I think you're messing with my mind, so you better stop.

BAHAHAHAHAH HELP THAT'S SO FUCK8NF FUNNY TO ME ACTUALLY OH MY GHOD.?! me invading ur dreams to tell you the wonders and joys of owning ultrakill 😁

I NEED U TO KNOW ALSO. THE ASK SENT DIRECTLY BEFORE YOURS WAS LITERALLY,

[rodrifc]

😭😭😭😭

[r0semultiverse]

@lapin-noire

[carebearbussy]

𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙙 𝙜𝙖𝙢𝙚𝙨

ᥫ᭡ 𝙨𝙮𝙥𝙣𝙤𝙥𝙨𝙞𝙨: 𝙞𝙣 𝙬𝙝𝙞𝙘𝙝… 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖𝙨 𝙘𝙤𝙣𝙘𝙪𝙗𝙞𝙣𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙮𝙤𝙪 𝙛𝙚𝙚𝙡 𝙞𝙣𝙨𝙚𝙘𝙪𝙧𝙚, 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙘𝙤𝙢𝙚𝙨 𝙝𝙤𝙢𝙚 𝙚𝙖𝙧𝙡𝙮.

ᥫ᭡ 𝙥𝙖𝙞𝙧𝙞𝙣𝙜𝙨: 𝙝𝙚𝙞𝙖𝙣 𝙚𝙧𝙖! 𝙨𝙪𝙠𝙪𝙣𝙖 𝙭 𝙛𝙚𝙢𝙖𝙡𝙚! 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

ᥫ᭡ 𝙘𝙬: 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙨𝙩, 𝙗𝙤𝙙𝙮 𝙨𝙝𝙖𝙢𝙞𝙣𝙜, 𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣𝙨 𝙤𝙛 𝙬𝙚𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩 𝙜𝙖𝙞𝙣, 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙞𝙣𝙜 𝙘𝙖𝙡𝙡𝙚𝙙 '𝙪𝙜𝙡𝙮' 𝙖𝙣𝙙 '𝙨𝙡𝙪𝙩', 𝙗𝙪𝙡𝙡𝙮𝙞𝙣𝙜.

ᥫ᭡ 𝙬𝙘: 2.7k

𝙬𝙖𝙣𝙣𝙖 𝙨𝙚𝙚 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? 𝙝𝙚𝙧𝙚𝙨 𝙢𝙮 𝙢𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

Your day went as normal as usual.

You walked with you head held high, a pep in your step as you wondered around the large estate claimed by Sukuna. Alongside you, was one of your loyal handmaids, ordered by Sukuna to accompany you by default. It was early morning, as you heard the talkative birds chirp in the crisp air. It was very relaxing, especially for you, who was often picked on by your fellow concubines, who were supposed to support you.

As you stepped onto the stone walkway that led to your beloved garden, you noticed the flowers slightly dwindling in color, as the stems had lost their pin point shape. This made you frown, as you realize you had forgot to water them recently. Your handmaiden follows behind you respectfully, as you walk through the rows of colorful flowers.

"You must really enjoy the flowers, my lady." You handmaiden pointed out, coming to that conclusion as she had watched you tend to the flowers every day without fail. It was something she admired about you greatly, that being your calm nature, even under the circumstance of Sukuna wanting you to be monitored 24/7. She felt some sort of pity, even through her love for Lord Sukuna. "Yes, I am quite fond of them. They are very beautiful, but they look very dull today..." You say through your pouting.

You walk over to the gardening table over by the end of the conservatory, as you put on your gardening gloves, as well as putting your hair in a high ponytail. Your handmaiden looks at you with her head tilted, questioning your motives. "My lady, you should not be getting your hands dirty. I suggest you stick to watering instead of doing the dirty work." She said, worried about what Lord Sukuna would think if he saw his favorite consort getting her pretty hands dirty. You look over at her while carrying a bag of soil, walking over to the start of where the flowers were.

"Its fine, really. He wont even know I was here today, hes out for a business meeting. Uraume informed me he may not return for a couple of days." You said, reassuring her, as you kneel down to tend to the garden. "Okay, if it is what you wish..." She says, looking around to see if anybody was watching. "I will just stay here and keep watch."

As you patted down the soil, you sprinkled water over the plants, the glass of the garden house letting the sunlight shine in. You looked at your work as you were halfway through, proud of the work you had so far accomplished. But as you were admiring your handiwork, you heard a group of heavy footsteps walk into the large garden house. You were not expecting anybody else to come here except for you, so who was it. Oh, of course, its them.

A group of three notorious mid ranking concubines, followed by one high ranking one. You audibly sighed, knowing what would follow suite. They laughed when they saw the sight before them. Sukuna's favorite? Doing a maids work? It was laughable to them. Was this finally the moment Lord Sukuna kicked you to the curb, and realized your true worth? That was what they hoped for in the end, but for now, they had to have their moment of joy, which was picking on you.

"My, my, my. Look at what we have here. Little Y/N is out doing the work of those lower than her? What did you do to make Lord Sukuna that upset?" The lead woman spoke, cackling along with the other girls. Your face distorted into that of annoyance. You looked at the girl straight in the eyes, preparing to attempt to defend yourself. "Why are you all here? To ridicule me? If you must know, I chose to tend to the garden."

One of the girls standing behind the lead scoffs, stepping slightly forward. Looking at your handmaids, then to you. "You really are pathetic, if you must need that woman with you at all times." She says, gesturing her hand towards your handmaiden. Your handmaiden looks away, too afraid to talk back to the likes of somebody a higher rank than her. "It would be a damn shame if you got dirt on your precious face, it's already messed up, you aren't the prettiest woman ever." Another one adds in, creating more fuel to the fire by taking a jab at your appearance.

This stroke a nerve in you, your self esteem slowly crumbling as they go on. The lead concubine takes a step closer to your kneeling form, looking down on you as if you were nobody. She crouches down to your eye level, grabbing your chin on each side with her fingers. "I really don't see what Lord Sukuna saw in you. He must not be very interested in you anymore. You are nowhere near perfect. Especially after your massive weight gain." She says, knowing the damage she is doing to you. She lets go of your chin, pushing you slightly back. "It wont be long before he gets rid of you for good, hopefully as soon as possible. We don't need an ugly duckling the likes of you waddling around the well known beauty of Lord Sukuna's estate." She says, brushing astray dirt off her kimono, as the girls behind her laugh at her words.

You feel tears forming in your eyes, as you try your best to hold them back and to not lash out at the woman, you mouth hanging agape from shock. But you are not as slick as the woman currently standing before you. She looks at you, a smirk crossing her fair face in accomplishment. "Aw, whats wrong? Are you going to cry? Your already the biggest slut in the palace, I don't need to call you more hurtful things."

And this was the last push to send you over the edge, as you felt hot tears spill from your eyes. The girls laughed louder, mocking your weak state. You panicked, as you got up, pushing the woman out fo your way as you ran out of the garden house, your gloves still on, your ponytail messy. You ran as far away from the scene as you could, as your handmaiden ran after you, pure shock in her eyes. Embarrassment crept up your spine, as you ran all the way to the opposite side of the wing of the garden, out of sight from any onlookers. How were you to face anybody?

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

You lay sorrowful in your large bed, curled up into a ball as you cradled your knees. Your eyes were puffy with sorrow, as warm tears streamed down your face, all the way down to your chest. Your nose was stuffy, snot running trickling down your nose. Used tissues covered the bed like a sea, as your handmaiden handed you more. She rubbed your back, as she sat on the edge of the bed watching you.

"My lady, please don't cry." She said, worried for you and your morale. You look up at her through wet eyelashes, as you sniffled into a half dirty tissue she held up for you. "Easy for you to say, you don't know what its like to be me. It feels like every single day, the people of the estate seem to hate me even more, and I try so hard to avoid it. I just don't know how to endure it anymore." You say, your lower lip quivering.

Your handmaiden looks at you pitifully. She feels like she knows you so well. She felt like your only true friend since being welcomed into Sukuna's estate. So it hurt to see you like this, especially after witnessing the unfair treatment you had received throughout your time here. The slow hand that once rubbed your back moved up to move the loose hair from your face, letting her see your full face out on display. But instead, you cover it, by moving your head more towards the pillows, the concubines words clearly getting to your head.

But she saw right though you. "My lady, the things those girls have said are simply untrue. I'm sure they were just saying that to get a rise out of you. They want what they cannot have, especially your close relationship with Lord Sukuna." You stop into your own world and think about it. Yes sure, you knew jealousy was a big factor in their distaste in you, but then why would they say such specific things? Were you truly all of those things they said you were?

"I'm sure it stemmed from what they truly want from you. All they want are reactions like these from you-" She says, but intervened by none other than the man himself, the head of the entire estate, Sukuna, who had came home unexpectedly earlier than usual.

Your handmaiden from what seems like instinct, immediately gets up to bow, anxiety filling her system for the largely built man standing before her. "Just what the hell do you think you are doing in my quarters uninvited?" He asks, unamused by the sudden appearance by anybody other than you. He looks down at her, waiting impatiently for an answer. "My lord, I was just tending to My lady, Y/N. She seemed in distress after a sudden altercation-" Without a second thought, he pushes her out of the way with his foot. Searching for you. He hears sorrowful sniffles coming from his large bed, as he raises his eyebrow in confusion. Who is in his bed? Ahh, it you, something must have happened.

You look up slightly from the bed to be greeted by Sukuna's broad stature, as you turn away from him, not wanting to face the fact that you failed to stand up for yourself. You had always made it a point to prove that you were strong willed, but this time around, you had failed. And failure is something you had feared around the likes of Sukuna.

He walks over to the opposite side of the bed that you were on, not wanting to upset you further, knowing how you become when you are upset. You try to muffle your sniffling, but to no avail. He looks at your chest rise and fall quickly, due to the nature of your fast breathing. A loud, audible sigh is heard behind you, the sound of it making chills creep up your spine. He then looks over at the handmaiden, who is still kneeling on the floor. "Leave." He says to her, as she quickly gets up to take her leave, not stopping to say anymore goodbyes.

He then looks back at you, who is unable to turn his way. "Whats wrong brat? Are you going to explain what happened, or are you just going to lay there like a sappy little thing." He says, crawling into bed, grabbing hold of your waist. He notices you flinching, keeping it in mind that when you are sad, you become sensitive to touch. He slowly brings you into his chest, your legs straddling his lower waist. Your body shakes as you hide your face within his chest, getting his robe wet with your snot.

"Look at me." He orders you, clearly not liking the mood you are in. But you don't move. Instead, you move your head side to side, still hiding your face from sight. Your head nuzzles further into his chest, as you move your arms to either side of his waist, hugging him deeply as you inhale his scent. You feel your tears keep running, as you use his robe to wipe them. "I told you to look at me, I wont repeat myself a third time." He said, sternly informing you. You didn't want to upset him, so you slowly look up at him, barely being able to hold eye contact. His eyebrows slightly furrow, as he slightly adjusts himself on the bed.

"Christ, what happened to you woman?" He says, using his upper left hand to wipe away the tears staining your face. He brushed his thumb over your cheek, but quickly stopping realizing how intimate that was. You hesitated before you spoke. "Its just... there are these girls, and I feel like ever since you became a part of my life, I have been tormented by them." You said, the thought of them ridiculing you flooding back into your mind like a storm, causing more tears to flood your waterline. "Torment? How so?" He asks, wanting to hear more.

"Like today for example, I was just trying to tend to the garden, and they came in and- its just- its complicated." You said, not wanting to spill the full details, worried of his reaction. "What did those woman do." He said. It was more of him trying to figure out what happened, than a question towards you. But you felt your emotions run high, causing you to completely unfold before Sukuna. "They came in, and they basically told me I would never amount to anything, and how i'm ugly, and that I gained weight recently."

He looks at you, his upper lip curling into that of disgust for what he just heard. You? Ugly? Never amount to anything? Gaining weight? This was all ridiculous to him. He would never truly understand why you were upset at being called those things, but he particularly did not like the reaction you had to it. Seeing you cry, for some reason, tore on his heart strings hard. Your emotions ran through him like an electrical current. He lowered his back into the mattress, still holding you tight.

"That has to be one of the most absurd things I have heard in my years of living. You are none of those things. Why would I care about such laughable things. You're my woman, nobody else is able to judge you, except for me."

You look at him with glossy eyes, as you place your hands over his chest, which had a wet patch due to the mixture of your snot and tears. You felt your lip quiver all over again at his words, thus resting your face on one side of his chest. You let all your tears run out, as you felt yourself quietly wail at the hands of Sukuna. He placed a large hand over your back, massaging your back, soothing you simultaneously.

"Thats it, let it all out. God, you look so weak right now, its quite endearing." He says, a slight smile being hidden from your field of vision. You grip onto the ridges of his robe, using it to try to grab onto something. His lower hands grip each side of your bottom, holding you for leverage. As he massaged your back, he pet your hair with his other top hand. Your hair was always one of his favorite things about you, which is something that stuck in your head. The words of your handmaiden ran through your head as well;

'They want what they cannot have, especially your close relationship with Lord Sukuna.'

It was true after all. And you will come to realize that as time goes on. How lucky did you get to become Sukuna's most favored? Any other girl in your situation would think the same way. Especially the way he is giving you so much attention. It makes you so happy. Knowing those girls would give anything to be in your situation. You felt like a princess.

You felt yourself fall into deep slumber, the comfort of your thoughts, along with Sukuna's relaxing hold bringing you comfort in moments like these. He looks down at you as he notices you had seized your crying. He thinks about moving from his spot, but decides against it, not wanting to ruin your beauty sleep. You needed this, he thinks. And he was right. He brushes the hair that covers your ear out of the way with his hand, as he leans down to whisper into your sleeping form.

"You can trust, those woman will be dealt with accordingly."

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 .

(𝙨𝙝𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙄 𝙢𝙖𝙠𝙚 𝙖 𝙥𝙩 2?)

[belxveds]

Could you write a fic where the reader is Stark’s daughter and he catches her and Peter fooling around in her room/main room whilst they think he is out?

caught in a web of kisses

pairings: peter parker x f!reader, tony stark x daughter!reader

brief: (requested!) misunderstandings and compromising situations with peter lead to a whole of cackling and screaming throughout the stark tower compound. a brief look into the life of y/n stark and your struggles with your stupidly overprotective dad and chaotically cute boyfriend.

tags: humour. fluff. borderline crack fic. "enemies" to lover. established relationship.

a/n: thank you so much for requesting! i appreciate it :) it always makes fills me with so much joy to know someone seeks out my writing <3

requests are open!

wc: 1.4k

Perhaps it wasn't your smartest idea to pretend to absolutely despise your father's intern in front of your parents and the Avengers but . . . well- how could you possibly resist yourself when it was so much fun sharing sneaky, mischievous smiles with Peter as you both shot teasing glares across the room to maintain your appearance as rivals?

Plus, it was just a little prank to keep your relationship with Peter, as well as the days spent at the compound, more interesting. If anything, you and Peter were single handedly entertaining the entirety of Avengers with your debates and arguments. You were fairly sure they had bets going on about the two of you. It was harmless, really.

And it wasn't like you were going to keep it from them forever! You would tell them . . . eventually. You just- hadn't thought anyone would find out like this. With you and Peter in such a . . . compromising situation?

You almost let out a small groan of exhaustion as you sunk into the unnecessarily large couch your dad had purchased for the lounge, melting into Peter's side as you fiddled with the remote to lower the lights and dim the windows. Pouting at the sliver of light that still managed to peek through the sunroof, you let out the smallest huff as you closed that as well before turning to take a glance at your boyfriend.

He let out a small yawn before shifting with your attention on him, cuddling into you tighter as he murmured, "You sure no one will be back for another 2 hours? 'Cause I swear if we get caught because you wanted to take a nap on the couch, I will never let you live this down."

Snuggling deeper into the blanket you'd draped over the two of you, you couldn't help but let out the smallest breathless laugh as you responded, "That's if they don't kill you first."

"Hey!" Peter quipped, voice growing the tiniest bit slurred as the nap you promised him began to look awfully tempting, "I'll have you know that I think your dad and also everyone else is quite fond of me, alright?"

You couldn't help but let out a snort as you mocked, pretending to push up fake glasses on the bridge of your nose as you raised the pitch of your voice, "I'll have you know-"

The gentle whack you got on your arm made you stop mid-sentence as you giggled, answering your boyfriend more seriously, "Everyone's schedule says they have stuff going on until at least 6:00, unless they were all just to magically-"

"What happened to, "God dad, if I have to see your stupid intern's face one more time, you're going to have to hold me back from stealing your repulsors and pulverizing the shit out of him?""

You're entire body pauses as you feel Peter tense in your arms, the both of you wincing in sync as you slowly, cautiously, turn your head around to face your dad, voice dragging out as you say nervously, "Uhm...so you see-".

Peter's bewilderment is audible as his head snaps to you, eyes furrowed in confused amusement as he hisses, "Why the fuck are you starting to quote Dhar Mann right now?"

"Peter", your dad interrupts, tone much too pleasant for the situation at hand and consequently sending both your spines into automatically locking up straight as you await his next move, fight or flight instincts activated, "You have 3 seconds to run."

"Mr. Stark, we can talk about this-"

"3 . . ."

"Oh shit!", your boyfriend scrambles, legs tangling into themselves and the blanket in his attempts to get free and run as he presses a ragged kiss to your forehead while declaring muffled through his panicked breath, "If I don't make it out of this alive, just know I wanted you to have my babies and be Y/N Parker-Stark."

The confession sends a surprised wheeze to rack through your body as you see him begin to take down the hallway, sparing a glance over his shoulder at you and your dad before maneuvering himself onto the ceiling and into the vents.

Your eyes tearing up from laughter, you try to speak through your immobilizing giggles as you address your dad, "Dad, father dearest, please- come on- spare him-" "2 . . ." "Dad! C'mon- you have to admit . . . from a completely scientific and objective lens with zero romantic emotions taken into account, considering all the teenage boys out there, Peter is definitely one of the better choices", you tried to level, summoning the critically-acclaimed award winning Y/N Stark inside of you and not the moderately concerned girlfriend worried that her boyfriend's cause of death may in fact be the same repulsors Peter had helped your father tweak in the lab earlier today. How unfortunately ironic. Shuffling over, albeit a bit awkwardly, to where your dad stood, you cautiously peered closer at his profile, trying your best to assess exactly how much trouble you were in. You knew deep down, he truly wasn't all that upset, though, maybe a bit grumpy about having been kept out of the loop for this long. In fact, you were positively confident he was quite happy with who you had chosen. Despite all of his teasing and successfully accomplished fatherly duties of bullying the both of you, it was stupidly evident how much he cared for Peter like a son. Not just anyone was allowed to intern for the Tony Stark, after all.

Lost in thought, you couldn't help but yelp slightly and flinch into your father's side as a muffled voice echoed down from the ceiling, cooing, "Aww Y/N, you really mean that?"

Cursing at your boyfriend's surprising lack of self preservation skills taking into consideration his literal job and particular set of talents, you glared upwards. Hoping your disappointment at his lack of distance somehow radiated through the insulated plaster, you deadpanned, "No, I was just playing. I wish I'd gotten with Harley."

"What?!" squeaked Peter, like a little vent rat, his offended gasp echoing in time with your dad's final countdown.

Giggling once again at Peter's frightened scuttling at the realization that he was out of time, you quickly reached to grip at your dad's suit clad bicep before he could make a motion to call at the Iron Man suit, your voice taking on a more serious tone as you asked softly, his opinion and approval still highly valuable to you, "You're ok with me and Peter dating though? Genuinely?"

The twitch of his signature smirk on the corner of his lips and the nodding glint in his eyes sent a happy thrill through your heart, instinctively grinning wide as you squealed and rushed to give him a tight hug, speaking through a stifled smile into his chest, "Ok, you have my consent to go squish my little spider now. Please don't bring him back to me flattened or burnt- I quite like how he is now." Your father's wrinkled nose and vocal sound of disgust at how you'd addressed his intern sent you into another fit of laughter as he spoke, "Ground rules since I know the kid's out of his freaky super-hearing range. One, ew. Never address him like that again, I might vomit. Two, if I see the two of you touch, I am immediately invoking a 50 year social-distancing ban between the two of you. 6 feet and everything. I'll throw in permanent masks if I ever catch you two kissing. Three, . . . no promises."

"In response- One, . . . no promises. Two, you don't want spider grandbabies crawling up the walls? All I'm hearing is that we can't get caught. Three, I'll tell mom", you grinned pulling back, your gaze filled with amusement and the look of humoured adoration you often had reserved specifically for your dad as he let out a little whine in complaint at your threat of telling Pepper.

It would just be a little rough up. You know, the classic "hurt my daughter and you're dead" speech. And Peter was Spider-Man! He'd be fine . . . probably.

mailbox ༶•┈ peter parker's mailbox! ┈•༶ send letter

[ma1dita]

don't blame the kids

a 'partners in crime' installment - luke castellan x dionysus!reader prev -> not your goddess | next -> trouble's coming for you words: 7.6k summary: (established relationship (kinda lol)) The one where you both chaperone a trip to Mount Olympus. The Olympians are bigger gossips than you thought they'd be. (Luke Castellan x fem!Dionysus!reader) a/n: the Chapter—set during the winter solstice; tldr: your dads are besties + hera is a good judge of character.... more d & trouble as requested, enjoy! eh ill edit this once i get back from class later tonight, taglist & ao3 update to be posted then as well

—

Your head falls against the metal of the school bus with an audible thunk. The sound of discordant cackles wakes you up from a dreamless sleep, making you jam your mouth shut and feel your spit go stale on this chilly winter morning.

“Rough night?” 

Keeping your cool despite the pounding headache, you mumble out an incoherent reply to your younger brother, whichever one he was. The old leather seat sighs as one of them sits down, the added weight jostling your legs as you groan and open your eyes to see two blond heads staring at your tired form. One of them peers from over the seat in front while the other leans over your lap, rifling through your backpack for snacks—there’s no such thing as personal space with these two for siblings.

You blink slowly as your vision clears, the cold grayscale interior of the bus still too bright on your eyes.

It’s too early for this shit.

“You’re talking to yourself again,” Pollux grins, noticing briefly that you’ve made an internal thought external. He hands his twin a granola bar from your backpack and leans back against your shoulder.

“Need this weekend to be over already,” you mumble, “just wanna sleep a bit longer and forget all of this. You two helping me later or are you gonna do that juggling bit again with the bottles of ambrosia?”

“Too bad it’s just begun,” Castor chuckles, before flopping back into his seat, then calling out, “and we’re playing the water glasses, thought it would make dad laugh—HEY!“ You tossed your water bottle at him and missed only because he conjured it into his hand and not your intended target of his skull. 

“We’ll be around if you need an extra hand up there,” Pollux murmurs over a hot chip, the crunch reverberating into your ear, “Are we gonna talk about why your boyfriend is on the opposite end of the bus?” Or why he didn’t come to cabin 12 last night… The stealth of sons of Hermes aside, the twins always know when he drops by— Luke usually leaves bags of stolen candy and tiny trinkets tied to their doorknobs when they lose teeth. To be honest, they’ve known the tooth fairy hasn’t existed since they were ten, but Pollux has one last molar he was looking forward to cashing in for a Push-pop.

“Nope.”

“Good talk,” he nods, before belching so loudly you shove him into the aisle, “Ow!”

The rest of the bus is filled with quiet chatter and excitement as you decide to take the chance and get up to survey the handful of campers who join you for the winter solstice. Some of the younger ones are crammed like sardines with bobbing heads as the bumps and turns of the Long Island Expressway rock them in and out of sleep, which is a privilege you were just robbed of. The others that are still excited to see their godrents move animatedly as they clamber over each other and practice their performances for later, a dissonant symphony of prose and instruments out of tune, vines growing from the Demeters’ row, and multiple charcoal pencils rolling along the floor towards the driver sitting up front.

There’s only so much you can hide on a bus, and now that you’re awake…

“Beck!” you hiss as the smell of burning hair wafts through the enclosed space, “No fire on the bus!” The dark-skinned boy looks at you sheepishly, fanning his younger sibling’s singed eyebrows and cracking open a window. Ironically (no pun intended, but while we’re here, ha!) Hephaestus will love his kids even if all of Olympus goes up in smoke. You wish you could say the same for the rest of your campers. The ones left to consider—like those of Hermes, watch the blur of the road whizz past their peripherals, lacking their usual sense of merriment and mischief in knowing their father will be a no-show even on the one day a year they’re allowed to visit. Though a worthless trip off the island is way better than cleaning wine glasses with the nymphs—to them, kitchen duty ends when one’s fingers are about to fall off the bone. 

Making a mental tally of your kids in case any of them have decided to fall out of the vehicle during your much needed break (demigods can get into twice the amount of trouble mortals can in half the time after all), you notice Annie’s waving you over towards her and her seatmate who is coincidentally the only person you wish would drop into the East River.

You make your way over feeling like you’re walking to your death, with your knees buckling with the movements of the bus, momentarily stumbling to a stop in front of their row and conjuring a juice box for Annie with a small smile. Your boyfriend(? — could you still call him that? You remember falling asleep in the storage room counting the sleeping bags, waking up in your bed alone and not much else) looks up at you expectantly as if you’re the one who should have something to say now. You avert your eyes quickly. 

Even on the shortest day of the year, being under his gaze makes time pass slowly like being dipped in molasses. The feeling sits at your throat uncomfortably, and your resolve makes your stomach feel like an endless pit.

“Yeah, Annie?” you say simply. You don’t mean to, but the smile on your face fades ever so slightly. They both notice and don’t say anything—one in contemplation and the other in disappointment. 

“You look awful.”

Okay, what the fuck. Between the thousand-yard stare you gave your wall this morning and the amount of time you spent slathering makeup on at the crack-ass of dawn, you would think that at least your eyebags were concealed enough.

But Annabeth Chase is nothing if not honest, and even if you were the best actress she’s ever met (which you are), there is no way of hiding heartbreak. 

Can you call this that? 

Heartbreak. 

You’re still unsure of if it’s really over—can you say that Luke broke your heart if there’s no way of being certain? What is a break, anyway? Are there terms and conditions you should follow? Is this the part where you two just never talk again and it’ll always feel like this?

But if the boy sitting across from you broke your heart, you think you’d be able to tell—so let the evidence show (or lack thereof) that you’re pretty sure he took it with him, wordlessly and selfishly like a son of Hermes would. With no remorse. 

Let’s not call this heartbreak then. Perhaps the more accurate word to describe your expression is despondence—he chips away at you further with how he looks at you now. Luke catches himself admiring the way you’ve done your hair and the glitter on your eyelids and then honey meets amethyst as your eyes lock. In between an obvious sigh and the way you bite your tongue, he realizes that despite your beauty always rivaling that of Aphrodite (at least in his honest opinion), there’s something hollow in the way you look back at him this morning. He doesn’t know how to feel about that either. 

You both didn’t end off on a good note yesterday—and that much, plus the rare occasion of sleeping alone in the months you two have been together was disconcerting, to say the least. 

“Thanks for that. If that’s all, I’m gonna go back to my seat,” you deadpan, turning back towards the front of the bus. 

You can’t even look at him, you realize. In the almost five years you’ve known Luke Castellan, your favorite thing to do was just look at him, from the way his nose scrunches when he laughs, to the fluttering of his eyelashes when he gets tired, because one of the easiest parts of loving him was by just watching him to see if he was looking right back at you.

And you can’t even do that, because it comes with a whole bunch of feelings you have no time to unpack right now. You decide to focus on the scar that spreads across his cheek instead when Luke calls your attention back towards them. He says your name so softly you almost miss it, gentle, like how someone talks to a child. It’s infuriating.

“I thought you were driving the bus today?” 

Somehow a simple interaction like this feels like the hardest performance of your life. Breakups never came easy, but dear gods, why right before the winter solstice of all days— you mumble a reply so quietly even Annabeth leans a bit closer to hear, “Didn’t sleep well. Big day today.” You brace against the seatback in front of them, tightening your core as the bus whips around a bend.

“Thought it’d be safer if I got one of the satyrs. Had to promise him unlimited access to the kitchens for a month though.”

Almost slamming into a full stop, your eyes widen as your body hits leather, properly leaning over the both of them as the daughter of Athena holds onto your leg and one of Luke’s hands grabs your arm.

“Gods. Look how that’s going,” the younger girl jokes, before looking up again to see her brother and you staring at each other motionlessly. Everything goes quiet—you don’t hear screaming campers or see Clarisse shaking one of her younger siblings upside down for a candy bar. Your knees shake slightly under the weight you figuratively carry on your shoulders. How will you show face to the gods when you can’t even keep a smile steady?

Time stops for a moment, and if it’s only been 12 hours, you’ve already lost count— but its felt like a lifetime since he held you like he might still care. It’s hard to tell, the both of you are too stubborn and it reminds you of a time when all of your conversations went like this—vitriol and annoyance leaking from each word, but at least when you were fourteen it felt like the build up to something great.

But what happens after great is exhausted? The comedown is a terse conversation that almost flies over Annabeth’s head—said in a way that adults do when everything is veiled and heavy, not meant to be seen by prying eyes and younger hearts. 

“I didn’t mean for it to turn out this way,” Luke mutters from beside her. You retract your arm like you’ve been burned and shake your head, “Well, it did.”

The wise girl starts to put the dots together, face scrunching as she deciphers the hidden meaning behind your exchange. She should’ve known Luke didn’t actually want to sit with her and talk about her latest chess match—the son of Hermes loves a good game but has no interest if he’s not the one winning. They both watch you rush back to your seat, the swaying of the bus pushing you farther and faster until you fall away out of sight. 

When she gathers her thoughts, the words lay heavy on her tongue like a hot iron until she spits it out at her older brother. Annabeth Chase sparingly cusses, you see, mostly under her breath and really only when she’s stumped by a situation, especially since she’s only just turned eleven a few months ago—but she looks at him like a foreign object she doesn’t know how to dissect.

“You’ve got nerve, Luke. How do you always fuck up this bad?” Her dark braids drag over her shoulder as she turns to look the other way, away from him.

Luke swallows dryly, biting down on the flesh of his cheek. Between his plan for today and his impeccable timing of monumentally screwing up his relationship with you? 

It’s like Annabeth hit the nail on the head, and he couldn’t agree more.

—

“Alright, places everyone,” you drone, tapping your pen against your clipboard like a gavel before a session in court. The Hall of Gods is just as unruly as your campers when you don’t water down the juice boxes, you realize—Olympians are mulling about the throne room, chattering and making it known that they’d rather be doing who knows what on the only day of the year that it’s mandatory for them to be parents. You sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose as you silently agree—there are much better uses of your time that you can think of right now, like making sure to hand Michael his epi-pen before lunch and hoping Connor and Travis aren’t scamming every seller blind at the street-markets of Olympus.

Everyone else is enjoying their free time and you’re…here, watching Apollo, god of music and truth, annoy his twin by sending birds to fly circles around her head. 

Cacophonous laughter startles you, turning to see Hades watching the chaos with his arms crossed over his chest. Draped in black, his chill expression looms over the papers in your hand as he peers at the schedule.

“Siblings, am I right? Sorry you have to deal with mine.”

“Divine Hades,” you bow your head slightly, “they’re erecting your pedestal for the solstice as we speak, I apologize in behalf of—”

He waves a hand dismissively, “No need, child. I know you’re just doing your job. I can wait.”

“Well, I can’t if they’re all acting like children,” you mutter, the both of you watching Zeus bicker with Hera with increasing volume before she storms out, not before addressing the god of the Underworld with a nod.

And he smirks, letting out another laugh that the sound of it quiets the Olympians and sends them towards their seats like obedient students in a classroom. The nymphs are finished pushing the newly-fashioned slab of a throne into position, twelve turning into thirteen and Hades makes his way over as well, gesturing back at you, “Remind me of your name again?”

You say it calmly, clicking your pen. Your dad is sprawled out on his throne, legs over the side as he stares at the ceiling, “Alright princess—let’s get this show on the road.”

“Will we be waiting for…” your voice trails off, briefly looking towards the door.

“Nonsense. I’m sure you can brief her afterwards,” Zeus booms, and you swallow. There goes your lunch break.

“Of course. And Hermes?” You ask, eyes flickering to the only empty seat.

“Working.”

Clearing your throat, you stand tall to address the deities in the room and though you can’t look any of them in the eye, (besides your father that’s already guzzling his fourth cup of ambrosia at eleven in the morning, but you're not any better---you're on your third can of Redbull) it does not deter you from what you came here to accomplish. Might as well do the job well if there’s nothing else to look forward to for today.

You go over the schedule of events like an automated system, not stopping even when Ares starts sighing at the end of your sentences and Demeter sends daggers toward Hades with her eyes. It’s enough to wonder why those without children present today even stay. Formalities, you presume.

“Any questions? Good, I’ll see you all in here at four o’clock,” you quickly say, not giving them a chance to interject—spinning on your heel to walk out of there with even a shrivel left of your patience. 

You find yourself running through your list again by the time you reach the end of the hall: you need to grab the tapestry that cabin 6 wove for their mother’s shrine from the bus, Lee needs help bringing in the harp after lunch, and your brothers need enough wine glasses to fill with water for their performance since they haven’t mastered the conjuring trick so well yet.

Her presence imposes itself upon you before you spot her perched next to the windowsill—the queen of the gods is not meant to be a decorative wallflower, after all. 

“D-divine Hera,” you stutter and stop short, “Would you have a moment to go over the schedule?”

“I know the schedule, child. I’ve been here longer than you. What is it, your fourth year running this thing?” She’s expressionless, maybe even a bit bored with the topic as she looks down at you. You stare at the peacock feather shawl that hangs off her shoulders.

“Third, ma’am.”

Hera smiles (or at least it sounds like she is, talking to her has always felt like twirling on a minefield), “It doesn’t surprise me that all of this falls on a woman. Where’s your husband?”

“My what?” 

You don’t mean to, but your knee-jerk reaction is to look her in the eye and the both of you are surprised by that. Hera’s perfectly arched brows are sky high now, but you haven’t been incinerated yet, so you can deduce that she might like you (or is still contemplating the matter), “The one with the pretty face, such a shame about that scar. You two were inseparable last year, I just assumed…”

With a face on fire, you clear your throat, “Oh. Luke and I aren’t…” Your eyes press closed, hot-red embarrassment brimming into tears you don’t expect to surface. Another reminder that he’s not your…anything right now.

“Mm,” she hums thoughtfully, “Sometimes I forget what year it is. Human societal norms and all that.”

A soft wind billows through the open air, and you hug the clipboard to your chest. You are not about to trauma dump on Hera. Though in a way, she might understand you more than you think.

“I sent him away, I guess. Sometimes it’s much easier to do things alone,” but even you don’t sound convinced. The side of Hera’s lip quirk upwards and she looks at you knowingly, “I agree. Though I guess there are worse things in life than sharing the hard parts with someone you love.” 

Looking down at your shoes, you’re not sure of what else to say. It reminds Hera of her and her husband, before time complicated everything. In the early years, every obstacle feels world-ending until it passes and all you can do is laugh with the person who was by your side. 

“I don’t have to be there later, don’t I?” the queen of the gods mutters. You shrug. Your opinion doesn’t matter, clearly, because she continues, “I don’t have any children in the show that are performing but…I want to be there.”

“I get that,” you say awkwardly, shaking your head to not fumble this conversation further, but she smiles, patting your shoulder as she walks past—it almost feels like a blessing. 

Or maybe she wasn’t even listening to you at all. 

She stops at the end of the hall.

“Trust is a fickle thing, child. It has more value once it’s been broken, and rebuilding it takes two sets of hands. Catch and fall, push and pull, go and follow.” Hera looks back at you again, her white dress swishing at her hips, “Do you agree?”

“I guess.” 

The queen of the gods looks at you thoughtfully, a girl humbly offering her heart out to her divine presence and wanting her partner, a son of Hermes at that— over any glory Olympus can provide. 

Oh, to be young and in love—it makes one invincible.

“Then I hope he makes it worth your while.”

She leaves you to your thoughts and they echo to meet her like a bittersweet greeting. Hera smiles, seeing them run through your head like a video on loop—replacing bloodied bandages in a dark train car, glitter and giggles in a locked room, burnt chocolate chip cookies, and face masks in the dim light of a bathroom. 

The ritual of marriage has definitely changed over the millennia the goddess has lived through, but what you and Luke share is what she considers to be its truest form—that of two souls choosing one another over and over.

—

There’s not a lot of things that can make the herald of Olympus stop in his tracks. He holds as many titles as the letters that fly through his fingertips—though Hermes delivers mail with gratifying ease. The job has always been second nature; being a father…not so much.

But all the power in the world cannot compensate for the fact that you cannot save your children from themselves.

So when he sees you leaning against one of the ornate marble doors outside the Hall of Gods that afternoon, he wills himself to join you in real time. Infinite versions of himself scatter across the Earth with every second that passes. But you look familiar, and well, the trickster loves solving a good puzzle.

“I know you,” he says matter of factly, yet he can’t put his finger on it. His voice is deep, like a howling wind; it blows your hair back even when he stands still in front of you. Your gaze lifts from your clipboard to travel across his face briefly, but you don’t look him in the eye. You can’t even if you wanted to—incineration by divine form and all, so you weren’t about to test your luck with him. Tempting though—you’ve heard enough about Luke’s father to want to burn holes through the god’s head like he could yours.

“Shouldn’t you be inside with the other campers for the rest of the show?” Hermes prompts again, despite your silence. He is the god of communication after all. But there’s not a single thing you could think of telling him besides, “Shouldn’t you? Your kids have been waiting all year to see you.” Mortal lifetimes pass in the blink of an immortal’s eye—but he can’t spare a few minutes to see his kids? Hermes shrugs, like it’s nothing of the sort. Nothing he can do about it. Olympus takes priority. 

“The work never stops. You would know that.”

There’s a startling shriek that escapes from the seam of the doorway as little Will Solace shuffles through the doorway shyly. He tugs at your sleeve, keeping his head bowed and mumbles your name, “Where’s the bathroom?” The god replies to the kid instead, looking at the tiny fractals of light that reflect off the boy’s hair, “Uhhh…down the stairs and to the left, fourth door.”

“Need me to go with you buddy?”

He squeezes your hand and shakes his head, undeterred by the fact he interrupted your conversation with an Olympian, instead going to hop down the stairs without looking at either of you, “Miranda tried to sing again. She should really just stick to plants.” 

Perhaps the presence of gods isn't as impressive to a mortal when their godrent regularly visits them.

“So why exactly did you want to speak with me?”

You cross your arms and lean against the cool wall and wonder why Luke’s dad is still in front of you. After all, he has to have better things to do than make conversation with a moping girl with a workload stacked to the heavens.

Hermes repeats your name slowly as if he’s memorizing the way it sounds coming off his lips, “You look a little lost. So much so that it made me take a moment here with you.”

“I’m right where I need to be unfortunately, so…thanks but no thanks.” He’s the god of many domains—finding lost things being one of them, good luck being another, among the others. He can feel—actually, he knows that you’re searching for something even if you yourself don’t know what it is. The force that summons him to you feels thick, like quicksand that pulls him in planting his winged feet to the ground. Hermes observes your standoffish attitude and wonders if he’s offended you somehow. 

Pushing down the yearning you feel for his son who sits inside the marble doors, you wonder if it would’ve hurt less had Hermes not made your want known to you, an ugly, embarrassing thing that feels like a lump in your throat. His caduceus vibrates loudly in his pocket and with a sleight of hand it appears in front of him, clacking buttons. It’s annoying to be treated like an inconvenience, especially in a time of need. Like father, like son, you suppose.

But unfortunately he’s right. You’re a lost little thing, mind scrambled from this hellish week and where you left off with Luke. You want him with you in all senses of the term, both right now as you glare at his father and in the way one breathes air through their lungs—autonomic, because you simply can't help it. Hermes looks at you again, scratching at his ear as if everything about standing in front of you is making his ears ring, “Who do you belong to again?” He’s trying to remember where he’s seen you before. The sound of trumpets pierce your ears when the door opens again, this time Castor catching his breath as he calls your name, “Hey. Where’s the little pipsqueak? 7’s going on soon.” Everyone seems to know you except him. 

How intriguing.

Rolling your eyes, you grumble, “Bathroom. Go back inside Cas.”

“See that’s the problem, Luke asked me where you are, should I tell him you’re…” The blond looks at who you’re speaking to and swallows, “busy?”

“That’s it. You’re Luke’s girl—” the frown that deepens on your face makes him pause, “I thought your name was Trouble?” The god looks even more confused, scratching his goatee—his son, through his nightly devotions, has asked for a lot of things from him in his short lifetime. The realization comes to the forefront of Hermes’ mind like a thumbtack pierced through a map as you respond. 

“Sometimes.”

In the past year, Luke’s narrowed it down to two things: to guide him onto the right path in life and to make sure you live well enough to be on it with him. That’s what was sacred to him—but Hermes could only see himself fulfilling one of them, if we’re being honest here: an unfortunate trick of the trade.

You grimace—maybe being in there and facing Luke would be better than having this conversation with his deadbeat dad.

“Only with him,” Castor smirks, and you shove your brother towards the stairs to go find Will. 

“How did you know that, anyway?”

Hermes chuckles, looking you up and down as if seeing you clearly for the first time, “His thoughts are even louder than yours. Even though he probably has nothing nice to say about me, he thinks about you all the time, that son of mine.”

“And what do you do then? Let it fall on deaf ears?”

“Listen, I’m not allowed to meddle,” he murmurs, a twitching hand ghosting over your shoulder. He wonders if can offer comfort —you know Luke better than the idea he has of him in his head, the glimpses of his son’s life that he’s allowed himself to see. You’ve been there these past few years to live it with him. Hermes swallows, retracting his arm to put it back against his side. The door swings open again—and it’s your father this time, cradling a wine glass that fills with ambrosia when he swirls it in his grasp.

“Kid, what’s the holdup—where’s the little sunspot and Thing 2?” Mr. D raises his glass with a grin, clapping his best friend on the back— “Hermes, my friend. Making a pit stop?” 

This just got even weirder—your head starts to spin a bit. 

Talk about a nightmare blunt rotation.

Between their lighthearted banter, Will and Castor skipping up the stairs towards you, and Pollux popping his head out of the doorway to yank the glass out of your dad’s hand (“SISSY! He’s drinking my musical instrument!”), you shut your eyes to center yourself. This might be the worst day of your life. Chaos becomes you and your blood is boiling at being surrounded by too many men when the only one you care about won’t even lo—

“Kid, you okay?”

Breathing heavily, you don’t realize you’ve clenched your hands into tight fists, and your dad doesn't know what to do. There's a thought that passes his mind as swiftly as his friend can scale the world that Luke would know what to do. Mr. D doesn't mean to, but he scoffs under his breath, shaking hand extending to reach out to an equally trembling shoulder and you flinch before it makes contact. 

"M'fine, I just need a second to think."

Pressing your palms into the pits of your eyes, your father watches you inhale a breath that seems to calm the storm brewing in your core, even for a moment, “Cas, take Will inside for his cabin’s performance. D, next time, don’t touch things that aren’t yours,” you say calmly as you conjure another glass of water and hand it to Pollux, not before taking a few sips to steady your resolve and perfect the tone of the vibrations. 

Sip. 

Too sharp. 

Sip. 

Perfect.

Putting the now fully functional instrument of water in your brother’s hand, he happily walks back through the door and now you’re just left with two gods that look at you somewhat impressed. 

“Can I help you with anything else, or are you both just going to waste my time?” Tapping your foot, your face is expressionless again, any previous traces of emotion wiped clean.

“Princess, you know you could talk—”

“Nope,” you protest, “Nothing’s wrong at all. Just ready to get this day over with.” It’s rude and to the point, but you have no patience left, “ and all offense D, I’m not gonna talk about my boy problems with you, and especially not you,” you grit pointing at Hermes, “neither of you would get it and I don’t even fully get it, and partially you two are the reason why we’re like this!”

“What did Luke do?” your dad says incredulously, eyebrows furrowing. He’s sobering up from the buckets of ambrosia he’s consumed—itching to find out about what the golden boy could ever do to agitate you like this.

The gods will never know what it feels like to love someone like this—every fiber of your mortal being constantly anticipating an end without knowing when that is. You sigh helplessly, “I don’t even know where to begin.”

“I don’t know who I am without you, and he only knows who he is because of you,” spitting the words out like acid, you seethe, “we’re not exactly normal teenagers, you know, so thanks for that. I can handle it from here.”

And you push past the both of them and walk through the marble doors like nothing even happened.

"Makes sense he'd fall for her," Hermes mumbles, “your girl is a force to be reckoned with.” If not a bit insane like his best friend. 

"Yeah. Just remember I can tear your boy limb from limb. Just because she can handle it doesn't mean she should. Pray your kid fixes it or fucks off. " It’s the truth—poor Penthus was just an example of Dionysus’ contradictory behavior. Ruthless punishments were like a walk in the park for your father. A jilted noise escapes Hermes's throat as if his own truth was trying to claw its way up his esophagus. The future of humanity rests on the shoulders of his favorite son, and for once, the messenger god is still---in fear? Guilt?

His thoughts are still trying to catch up with the rest of his body, but as he watches the door shut softly behind you, his winged shoes start to flap to signal his imminent departure.

“He's a good boy. He knows the worth of being loved by the right person at the right time. If he’s anything like me, he’ll cherish it while it lasts,” Hermes smiles as he fades from view, “and if he’s not like me at all—he’ll make sure it’s forever. But it looks like we’ll be in-laws, bestie!”

Mr. D groans, waving him off and conjuring another glass of ambrosia—when he walks in to rejoin everyone for the show, his boys are killing it on the musical glasses. He surveys the crowd, watching Luke Castellan only have eyes for you even in this dark crowded room.

“Shit.”

—

Nights on Olympus are prettier than what you’re used to. The stars are much closer than they would be if you were still on Earth, and they act as a natural nightlamp hanging over the enchanted ceiling of the ballroom you and your kids occupy for your one night stay. Yawning into your fist, you spot Charlie Beckendorf who’s already fallen asleep directly on top of his sleeping bag, sweatshirt on backwards and tennis shoes still on. Offering to take the last thirty minutes of his shift after watching him nod off earlier against a marble column while doing everything in your power to try to fall asleep was a no-brainer. But now that you were actually wanting to stay awake yourself, your eyelids didn’t seem to want to cooperate. 

Figures. Nothing you ever wanted has ever happened the way you wished for.

Sleep pricks at the corner of your eyes like dust from a sandstorm—presumably Hypnos forcing a hand on you getting rest. Here on Olympus he’s only a few doors away, after all.You rub your knuckles into the sockets of your eyes quite unkindly, hoping it’ll do the job. Even blinking is taking an added effort.

Patting your own cheek lightly to stimulate your senses, you cross your arms and decide to take another lap around the room. The rubber of your boots clomp louder with every shaky step and—

Tap-tap. Tap. T-tap.

D is rapping his knuckles against one of the glass doors on the perimeter like he’s playing the drums.

“Shhhh!”

Arms outstretched, you slip past rows of sleeping children, narrowly missing stretched out arms and fallen backpacks as you glare at him, “Are you trying to wake up all of Olympus?”

He looks at you with amusement, rumpled clothing and looking like a tiny, angry raccoon. You must’ve forgotten to take off your eyeliner, but he doesn’t mention it.

He brandishes two cigarettes in his hand and nods toward a door he left ajar leading onto the sprawling, wrap-around patio. And you swear you start floating towards him like an enticed cartoon character—surely you’re dreaming. 

Is there even a designated smoking area on Olympus?

“How long have you known?” 

The words almost slur out of your mouth as you swipe at his fist like a man starved—Mr.D can’t tell what exactly you’re asking. He’s known you’ve smoked since he found ash in the windowsill of his office. He’d known you and Luke have been having problems since you both started to sit at the opposite sides of the room during counselor meetings. Some things about you are harder to catch onto than others, and Mr. D is known for always being a little late to the party.

Dionysus, the god, was a late arrival to the Pantheon. Him as a father, he’s often late to discerning the happenings in his daughter’s life.  But he’s also known that boy has loved you long before he drunkenly stumbled onto his porch. Could smell it off of him— love makes people do crazy things after all. Out of all of your partners, he always thought the golden boy was just as bad—if not worse than you, gods willing. But you two were good kids, and the thought makes him chuckle, “I’ve always been able to read you, kiddo. I get there eventually.”

“Besides when I first showed up at your doorstep.”

“Shock of my life, actually. And that says a lot. You should be honored,” there’s a stupid smile on your father’s face now as he looks out onto the darkened horizon, glittering city lights on the floating mountain top. Olympus has changed in the years he’s been gone from it without him noticing. He looks over to you and realizes you have too—no longer fourteen with your hair sticky from Kool-aid, or multiple sun-tan tattoos. You always liked making a project out of your boredom.

Laughing gruffly—the base of your throat itches and you surface for air sounding like something being strangled. Blame it on the lack of sleep or teenage angst as he so aptly calls your temper tantrums, but he pulls you in to rub your back, leading you further down the walkway with a shushing, soothing coo as you whine, “What if this is the best I can be?”

“You’re nineteen, princess. A hell of a long way to go. To be honest, it gets worse as the years pass.”

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuck,” you groan, smacking your head against the cool marble. “That's like a blink for you. For me it feels like I’m constantly getting off on the wrong foot. How do you do it?”

He sighs and looks at you—and all of a sudden you see your father’s age in the way he grimaces. Left to do the dirty work, the things the gods don’t want to talk about, meant to endure because every ion of his existence has reeked of resilience. 

Because it’s what’s expected of him. 

You see the resemblance now.

His wrinkles are prominent and eyebags are heavy when he doesn’t fortify the image of a silly asinine man as he lets it all melt away in front of you.

You light a cigarette and puff life into the lit end to burn the other one, breathing out and handing it over. Smoke billows around the two of you as you lean against the marble railing—-but nothing has ever been so clear. It rolls through your lungs, warming you inside and out. You lean your head against his shoulder.

“I think you could shake this whole place up if you wanted to. Never met a more stubborn kid in my life,” your dad mutters, jostling when you elbow him, “I mean it. For a lack of better words, you’re a once in a lifetime kind of girl.” He’s not looking at you, but the sentiment wavers in the air and settles slowly until you learn to appreciate it. 

“You mean that?”

D has had a share of his own struggles, from being ejected from his mother and birthed from Zeus’ thigh, to being curb stomped by Hera herself, and of course the occasional trip to the Underworld. Suddenly your life pales in comparison. 

“Get that look off your face and stop thinking so badly of yourself. Life is not a dress rehearsal—just give it your best. I'll be in the wings for as long as you need me,” he swallows, “If you want that. I’m the only one dealing with this prison sentence, anyway.”

“I would like that.”

The god scratches his neck before dragging his Birkenstocks toward the door, swiveling to point at you, “Get to bed. You've got an early morning tomorrow.”

“I know. Is that an order?” 

“Yeah, twerp,” he mutters, lingering by the glass, “Quitting cold turkey is never fun. Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end. I've always been more of the type to go and get it myself though.”

“Cold turkey,” you repeat, nodding distantly. 

Letting go means to accept that you let it in. And if you’re not ready to let it go, fight for it. 

For a bunch of wordweavers, you both suck at talking to each other. It must be an Olympus thing to talk in riddles, but you’ve never been deterred by a challenge. Your fragmented conversation means a lot more than he’ll ever know. With a newfound appreciation for your dad, you smile and take a few puffs of the cigarette, taking a seat against the wall to let everything sink in. The comfortable weight of nicotine in your lungs lulls you to sleep, a momentary reprieve from everything. 

You swear you shut your eyes for just a second. Just a moment—to rest them a tiny bit.

And Luke slips out the glass doors in the other direction towards the throne room without you noticing.

When you wake up, it’ll all be over.

—

It’s snowing by the time Luke comes back. Biggest day of his life—something he’s been waiting for for months now, and it was just too goddamn easy.

And yeah, Luke understood that it is so irrevocably wrong to steal from the gods. 

But then why was it so easy?

Of course, it was all thanks to you. You don’t know it, but you helped the pieces fall into their perfect places. Keeping you up last night with the fight and leaving you to your own devices all day kept you indifferent enough about him to not notice the smaller details—him switching the night shift schedule around to his liking and making you the only obstacle between him and the Master Bolt and the Helm of Darkness (well, Ares was too, but onto more important things).

Everything happens for a reason, right? 

Getting on your last nerve has always been easy, and though he hates seeing you cry—it almost makes him feel guilty that there’s a certain thrill that soars through him when you two fight. You love him like how you argue, with an unbridled passion he loves to sink his teeth into.

And he loves you. It’s as simple and as complicated as that. So despite the tear in his side that makes him clench his teeth, his first objective after his completed mission is to sidle over to your slumped form with a smile. Luke slings his jacket over your body and wraps his arm to bring your head against his shoulder. The grounds are weather-protected like at camp, yet a few stray snowflakes still catch onto your hair. You stir, “Lu?”

“I’m here. Not leaving you.”

If salvation could manifest itself into something akin to human form, perhaps it would still look like a god. Being saved is a feeling unfamiliar to Luke—the only person he was always sure could save your ass was himself.  But he wants this, you nestled against him for as long as you want, until his arms ache and pins and needles ravage his body. Luke knows he would crawl to the ends of this earth and the next if it means he’ll be with you. 

Gambling with fate will be worth it if he can find a way to make this love last forever. 

This has to work. You did what you had to do, he thinks.

Sniffing, he kisses your forehead and his jacket faintly smells of smoke. Snowflakes dot his eyelashes and he rubs your arms to make sure you’re warm, “Let you sleep longer. Looks like you needed it.”

“How long have I been asleep?” you say groggily. His thumbs wipe at your eyelids gently with the hem of a fresh shirt, “Don’t worry. I took care of everything.”

It makes him grimace, emotional manipulation and a quick escape—hello Hermes!

“I’m tired, Luke.”

He sighs, and you turn to him, the both of you knee to knee, slowly being illuminated by a blanket of cool toned hues from the rising sun, “I know. Let me make it better, baby.”

Wistfully, you tangle your fingers with his in the space between you as if sealing a vow. 

”Every future I envision includes you with me. I need you to know that.” 

Overwhelmed by the events of the night, hell, these past few months—Luke starts to cry. A single rivulet cascading on the cheek adjacent to his scar and you catch it by pressing your lips to his jaw.

“Could you still love me?”

Inching closer, he feels as if you’re not close enough even when you’re breathing against the nape of his neck like this and you mumble, “You’re saying that like I ever stopped, angel.” The line blurs with each breath he takes—to earn a spot to walk amongst the gods, to live a completely ordinary life, or to be stuck in the strawberry fields of Delphini Farms forever. Luke was never awarded the privilege to want for himself before he met you, the absolution to all his wrongdoings. He can feel the quaking of your jaw under his fingertips as he slowly turns you to face him and all you have left to give him is a shattered breath.

“No matter what?”

Pressing his lips to yours as an apology feels like being saved. Lightly, until he pours himself into it and you relent, until the only thing that matters to you is that he’s with you now. Luke would merge your souls right now if he could—a tangled mess of eight limbs and head to head and everything is as it should be.

“Even if you don’t sit with me on the bus,” you smirk. He scoffs, kissing you harder and locking his lips with yours feverishly before resting much gentler ones against your tired eyes, “Oh don’t worry. Can’t get rid of me that easily, Trouble.”

A new day breaks on the horizon the longer you stay out there. But he takes these last final moments and keeps them under lock and key for safekeeping. You leave Olympus in a few hours, and by then there’ll be no time for regrets—his perfect crime with his perfect partner.

—

"I weep because you cannot save people. You can only love them." -Hanya Yanagihara

[triona-tribblescore]

DIONAAAA!!! LOOK AT US!! :'((( <3333 /POS The little selflie, im in bits this is so cute-

AND PFT- LEO, BFHERFHBFHBE THE REALISTIC BUNNY, STOP- XDDDD god that is so so great

Its so amazing tysm Diona, its going with the rest :') <333 Love you too!! /p

Fanart for @triona-tribblescore

Lova ya, triona 😘😘 /p

[jihyoruri]

❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ ❚ 𓍢 BAD INFLUENCE kang haerin x reader

↳ warnings yn is haerins “friend”, yn is apart of baby monster, minji and yn going at each other throats

"ugh, I hate them so much," minji groaned, her voice laced with frustration. hanni chuckled at her friend's dramatic reaction, amused by minji’s strong feelings.

"I will never understand what you have against YG artists, they're talented," hanni remarked, shaking her head in disbelief at minji’s disdain.

"and cool," danielle chimed in, coming to the defense of YG artists. "have you seen blackpink?" she added, trying to make her point.

"I don’t know, they just rub me the wrong way, like they’re so aggressive," minji explained, her expression tense as she tried to articulate her feelings.

hanni opens her mouth to argue but is cut off by a loud cackle.

the three girls exchanged puzzled glances as they observed their friend. she sat cross-legged, utterly engrossed in her phone, her laughter ringing out for the fifth time in as many minutes. each giggle seemed to pull her deeper into whatever held her attention, her face illuminated by the soft glow of the screen. the others leaned in, trying to catch a glimpse of what could be causing such amusement, they’ve never seen the girl like this before.

minji was the first to voice her concern, “why are you so giggly” haerin looked up from her phone with she opens her mouth to respond but is cut off by the youngest that enters the room.

“it’s her cool girlfriend.” hyein says teasingly as she sits beside the cat like girl who sends her a glare.

“she’s my friend.” she says as hyein laughs and minji’s face relaxes.

“you have a new friend?”danielle asks in the shock, haerin wasn’t much of a talker like the most of them so it shocked her to see that the girl got a friend and they don’t know them.

“and she’s cool?” hanni said with a scrunched face like that was the most craziest thing she’s ever heard which caused haerin to shoot her a offended look.

"hyein thinks everyone is cool," haerin interjected, glancing up briefly from her phone. "but I think she's pretty cool," she added, her voice barely above a whisper.

"she's sooo cool," hyein exaggerated to the rest of the group. "She's an idol too."

"If she's as cool as Hyein is saying, then I want to meet her," minji said, her curiosity piqued. 

hanni nodded in agreement, eager to meet haerin's new friend, while herin looked up from her phone in shock.

"What?" she asked, her voice barely audible.

"Yeah, let's meet her," danielle chimed in, with enthusiasm. "Invite her over tomorrow."

haerin would rather not invite her friend to meet her members especially minji, but looking at their faces made her reluctantly nod.

“okay, I’ll call her about it later, me and her are hanging out tomorrow anyways.”

danielle's excitement bubbled over as she tidied up every corner of the dorm, ensuring everything was in its proper place. she glanced over at haerin, who seemed lost in thought, her gaze fixed on some distant point. danielle paused, a smile tugging at her lips, as she gently nudged her friend's shoulder. "aren't you feeling the excitement too?"

haerin jumped slightly at the sudden sound of her friend's voice nodding.

 "of course she is," hanni chimed in, her voice carrying a hint of amusement as she joined danielle and haerin.

 "especially hyein. she's been going on and on about this mystery girl, driving us all a little crazy with curiosity."

“yeah, but let’s not jump on her.” minji adds when she enters the room, haerin shrunk into her seat at the leaders words, oh she does not know what’s gonna hit her.

“what time is she coming?”

“she should be coming right about-“ haerin starts but is cut off by a knock at the door.

danielle jumps up immediately and practically runs to the door hyein coming from the corner following her as well, while minji follows shortly behind them and hanni stays beside haerin flashing the girl a smile.

the door opens to reveal a girl with darker clothes her fingers adorned with an array of silver rings that glinted in the soft light of the room. among them, a particular ring caught the eye, with the word "mon" etched onto its surface, adding an intriguing touch to her attire.

her gaze, initially downcast towards her shoes, slowly lifted to meet the expectant stares of the three girls gathered at the door. despite the partial cover of her eyes beneath a bucket hat.

minji turned to look behind her and saw a curious hanni and a nervous looking haerin, she furrows her eyebrows before looking back at the door.

“hello.” her voice was intimidating but in a flash she gives them a cute smile, “it’s so exciting to meet you guys, is haerin here?”

“ah, yes she is, haerin!” danielle calls for the cat like girl, haerin gets up from her seat immediately and pushes through her 

members.

“hey.” she says quietly.

“hi.” the girl smiles, before looking at the rest of the girls.

haerin grabs her arm and pulls her inside while the rest of the girls look at them, minji was glaring more than just looking.

“yn unnie!” as hyein's exclamation filled the room, her excitement full, she made her way towards the older girl with an eager smile, her eyes filled with admiration. yn, in turn, greeted her with a warm smile of acknowledgement, a subtle nod of recognition passing between them before her attention returned to the group.

there’s silence before danielle gasps.

“baby monster!” she exclaims walk closer to yn, “you’re apart of baby monster! you’re ring makes sense now.”

yn nods while minji buds in, “it’s pretty obvious, look at her.” yn definitely picked up on the leaders tone and tilted her head while the rest of the girls  looked at each other nervously, already knowing the older girls distaste for yg artists.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” yn says causing everyone to look at each other with raised brows while minji narrows her eyes at the younger girl. 

haerin linked her arm with yn and pulled the girl closer to her, “let’s go sit.” she says practically dragging the girl with her as the rest of the girls follow.

they all settle down, awkward silence filling the room.

“so, what’s your position in your group?” hanni asks trying her best to fuses the tension.

“I’m a rapper,” yn starts but is cut off by minji muttering “of course.”

yn scrunched her face before continuing, “but, I also sing and dance, I’m pretty good at everything.” she says with a cocky tone looking directly at minji while haerin leans closer into yn’s side trying her best to hide her giggle.

hyein laughs at the older girls words, “she’s right she’s really good at everything.” she adds expressing her admiration while minji rolls her eyes.

“so how did you meet haerin?” danielle asks eagerly.

yn sends haerin a smug look while the girl looks off to the side embarrassed, “she just followed me out of nowhere on instagram, right after my entertainment posted my introduction.”

haerin pinched yn’s side while hanni let out a loud laugh, “you’re such a stalker.” she says causing the other girls to laugh.

minji cuts the laughs off, “do all of you guys dress like this?”

“like what?” haerin answers for yn, already not liking where this is going.

“like that.” minji says towards yn, who laughed and stuck her tongue to the side of her cheek.

“we are known our good style.” yn says, playing with her rings, “you know, first brand ambassadors and everything.” she adds shadily, “kinda the reason why everyone else is as well, you would know right?… minji unnie.”

hanni snickers and danielle smacks her arm while hyein just looks between the two older girls.

minji just stares at yn while flashes her a smile.

haerin clears her throat immediately getting yn’s attention, “we should get going.” she says , wanting to get out of there immediately.

“so fast?” danielle asks looking up at the girls who stand up from the couch.

“yup.” haerin says making her way to the door, dragging yn with her who looks behind and gives everyone a smile, “it was nice meeting you guys, I’ll make sure to bring her home on time.” she adds flashing minji a wink who practically has steam coming from her ears.

when the door closes minji is the first to break the silence as they all look at the door.

“she’s going to be a bad influence.

“more like, she’s gonna drive you nuts.” hanni adds laughing.

“I need to go lie down.”

[ghostlyvoidbones]

Sonadow Lovebug AU - Pt. 1

a/n: This entire series is complete impulsive crack and I expect no one to take it seriously. That being said, not me actually putting effort into writing it ;O-O. (Art is mine).

summary: Your average Sonic and Shadow interaction, with guest star mosquito (Courtesy of Eggman Enterprises).

contains: Drugging? (I think I can classify it as drugging). Minor fighting. Hedgehogs being stupid.

wc: 2K

He’d done it.

One of the greatest feats of science, a true force to be reckoned with. A project that only took a few weeks to complete and, not to brag, he’d only started experimenting with chemicals and serums a month ago. Really, Dr. Eggman was a tried and true genius.

Weeks of effort culminated into a singular robot that was small, compact, and yet oh-so effective. He called it; The Death BugTM.

After extensive research and testing, he settled on a mosquito design. It was perfect for what he was trying to accomplish. Inconspicuous and unexpected.

Although its true danger lay hidden inside. Its proboscis was a reinforced, steel needle that acted as a syringe to inject the contents of its abdomen into its unsuspecting victim. Which, thanks to the doctor’s brilliance, was programmed to target a specific blue rat running around.

At first he wasn’t quite sure how this would work out, considering it started off as more of a vague idea than a solid plan. However, that changed quickly once he got to work. Suffice it to say, this particular concoction was going to be a treat, and it would take nothing more than a little prick.

What does it do? Well, in short: it forces the target to become overly focused on the task they’re doing at the time of injection. So focused, in fact, that they become physically incapable of stopping themselves from working on that task. So focused they wouldn’t even stop the task to… oh let’s say…. Defend themselves from an oncoming attack.

Dr. Eggman cackled, slapping his workbench as he reveled in pre-victory. All he needed now was to catch Sonic doing something debilitating like napping, then the hero’s defeat would be absolutely guaranteed. Eggman wouldn’t even need a robot army as backup since there wouldn’t even really be a threat for them to fend off.

As a matter of fact, he thought to do just that. Wait for the alert that the serum had been injected, show up with two or three badniks, and finally wipe that nuisance out of his life once and for all.

And it was with this eager confidence that he sent his little terror mosquito out into the world to track down its target.

****

Sonic zipped through the trees of Green Hills, shoes picking up traction as he went until he was little more than a blue blip against the foliage.

It was late in the afternoon, the sun burning bright overhead in the cloudless sky. He’d just finished helping Amy out with a few of her errands and decided to go for a long run to relax. After all, it was when he went fast enough that the wind whipped past him, shifting from white noise to pure silence, did Sonic feel the most liberated.

He sped by an open clearing, a flicker of black and red catching his eye.

The scuffed soles of his shoes dug into the earth as he ground to a halt. He’d overshot by just a few inches so he had to jog back a bit to get to where he saw the familiar figure. And as he shuffled through knee high grass, the figure became more clear and defined from where it was crouched slightly out of view.

“Shadow?”

The dark hedgehog in question shifted, an audible grumble of displeasure slipping out of him.

“Hello, Sonic,” Shadow responded flatly, not even bothering to turn and face him. The low timbre and roughness of his voice only made the words come off as more irritated, something that Sonic either didn’t not notice or completely ignored altogether.

“Didn’t think I’d run into you today! What are you up to?” Sonic tilted to the side, leaning over to try and take a peek over Shadow’s shoulder.

“None of your business.” Shadow rumbled, tying off a small bag before tucking it away into his quills. Sonic opened his mouth to respond, only to stumble backward when Shadow stood up so quickly they almost collided.

“Aw c’mon, don’t be like that Shads.” Sonic steadied himself, taking a large step to the side in an attempt to meet Shadow’s eyes. “Hey, listen! I was just going on my afternoon run, but whaddya say we make a race of it?”

“I don’t have time for your games, hedgehog.” Shadow pushed past him.

“What, scared you’ll lose? I mean I guess that’s fine with me. Even if we did race, I know I’d outrun you any day.” The grin blooming across the hero’s face widened when he saw Shadow freeze.

Shadow’s head slowly turned to face him, that telltale frown on his muzzle accompanied by a searing glint in his crimson eyes. Sonic had to physically hold back the chuckle bubbling up his throat.

“I see your ego has gotten bigger.” A flash of teeth that bordered between a smirk and a sneer. “Maybe I should knock it down a peg.”

Got ‘em.

“Heh.” Sonic swiped a thumb across his nose. “Challenge accepted.”

And just like that the two were tearing off through the woods. No more pleasantries or witty banter needed. 

They were streaks of color across the grass, matching each other’s pace as one tried futility to pull ahead of the other in an endless loop.

It wasn’t often that they raced. Mostly because they never met up outside of fights or accidental run-ins. Or really, it was Shadow who didn’t do the meeting up. Sonic definitely offered a few times in the past and was swiftly turned down each time, not that it stopped him from inviting the agent regardless of his displeasure.

So when rare times like this came up, it was admittedly not too bad of an experience for either one of them. Shadow, for one, didn’t mind the challenge and quietly considered it a good exercise if not an outlet for the stress of his day to day life. Sonic just liked having someone who could keep up with him and push him to go faster than he usually let himself go.

And like every race they’d had before, it was over in minutes. And like about eighty five percent of those races, this one ended in a tie.

Their finish line was at the top of one of the low rising hills. Upon reaching it, Sonic dropped into the grass and splayed out on his back to bask in the warm light of the sun. Next to him, Shadow looked out over the island with his arms crossed and a neutral expression on his face.

“One more round.” The smile shone clear through Sonic’s voice and Shadow rolled his eyes, shaking his head loosely.

“Don’t you ever get tired of being such a nuisance?” 

“Don’t you ever get tired of being so grumpy?”

As if sensing the incoming retaliation, Sonic rolled over onto his stomach just in time to avoid a swift kick to where his shoulder had just been. The blue hedgehog only laughed at the rocket shoes planted inches away from his face and the irritated huff from the hedgehog that owned them.

Although the laughter was swiftly cut off at the sound of a sharp hiss from above him, followed by a loud smack. Sonic looked up to see Shadow pull his hand away from his shin, bringing it up to his face with a furrowed brow.

“What was that?” 

“A mosquito.” Shadow answered before flicking the presumed mosquito off his glove and into the grass.

“I didn’t know the ‘ultimate lifeform’ could feel something as small as an itty bitty bug bite.” 

Sonic’s teasing was promptly ignored in favor of a small device that Shadow pulled out of his quills, tapping away at the screen with intense focus. He puts it back almost immediately, turning his gaze to some point on the horizon. Not able to see just what it was the other hedgehog was looking at, Sonic shrugged and decided on revisiting his previous comment.

“So about that second race-”

“I’ve wasted enough time with your nonsense. I have things to do.” Shadow cut him off, not sparing him a single glance. “Important things.”

“Suit yourself.” Sonic stretched out in the grass before sitting up. “Another day then?”

“You never-” The words stopped abruptly, making Sonic glance over at Shadow. Shadow stared hard into the grass, looking but not really seeing, as he brought a hand up to cradle the side of his head. His entire body seemed to sway as if it were off balance.

Sonic gets back onto his feet, mildly alarmed at the sudden change in his demeanor.

“Uh, Shadow?” Everything alright there?” He asked, taking a careful step forward. Shadow’s teeth were gritted, almost bared, a twist of pain lingering there that wasn’t common for the dark hedgehog. 

Getting no response from Shadow, Sonic moved closer, brows drawn tight in concern. Sonic waved a hand in front of his face, hovering his free hand over Shadow’s back, not quite touching but still present in case it looked like he was about to fall.

“Helloooo… Mobius to Shadow….”

He didn’t know what part of that ended up getting Shadow’s attention, but something had to have worked as Shadow blinked a few times and slowly came back to himself. Still observing his reactions, Sonic lowered his arms and moved out of Shadow’s space.

“Are you back with us now?” Sonic tried again, momentarily startled when Shadows eyes shot up to meet his and just… stayed there… for an uncomfortably long amount of time.

“Hm.”

“Are you ok? What just happened? You went all spacy for a second.” A beat of silent staring. “You still look a little out of it.”

“A dizzy spell.” Shadow finally straightened up, regaining his composure as if nothing happened. “I must be lower on chaos energy than I’d previously thought.”

“Low on chaos energy? I’m guessing that’s for one of your ‘top secret’ G.U.N missions?” Sonic puts air quotes around top secret that earned him an unamused expression for his efforts.

Although with no vocal response, or a shove for being too close, or really anything that was decidedly a normal Shadow thing to do, Sonic kept talking while keeping a wary eye on him.

“Well I guess I’ll let you go then. We wouldn’t want you crashing into a tree or landing in a lake somewhere by accident. See you ‘round, Shads!”

Plastering on his signature grin, Sonic gave him a two fingered salute before posing to set off back into his run. Though he paused when a hand suddenly hooked around his forearm.

Easing back into a normal stance, Sonic tilted his head at Shadow who hadn’t stopped staring at him since he’d come back to.

“You, uh, you need something?”

“Where are you going?”

Sonic blinked. It was worded as a question but it surely didn’t sound like one. The tone of voice, pointed and deep, came off almost as accusatory. Sonic glanced down at the hand around his arm before looking back up at Shadow.

“To finish my run? I’ll probably head home after that though.”

Shadow glared at him for a moment before his eyes trailed down to where his fingers were looped around Sonic’s forearm. He lingered there for a second, tightening his grip, before shaking his head hard and ripping his arm away like he’d just been burned. 

Taking a step back out of Sonic’s space, Shadow eventually pulled his gaze away.

“Right… right.” The dark hedgehog’s face pinched, like the words he was trying to spit out took more effort than they should to get out.

Sonic nearly flinched when Shadow snapped his gaze up to meet his once more. Crimson eyes darted across his face for what felt like a minute too long, before Shadow vanished without another word. The sudden use of chaos control left a faint buzz of chaos energy in the air that made Sonic’s skin tingle beneath his fur.

“What was that about?” Sonic mumbled to himself, staring at the spot where Shadow had just been standing.

He wasn’t given much time to dwell on it, however, when a mechanical whirring caught his attention. The noise steadily grew louder until it was joined by the soft rustling of bushes. Then came the all too familiar maniacal laughter.

“Hello, you blue pest! Feeling distracted today?” Dr. Eggman spoke, lips curling up in a grin, looking like the cat who caught the canary.

Rolling out of the bushes were a few badniks. A significantly smaller amount than what the evil genius usually brought along to these little battles. Sonic paid it no mind. In the end, he always destroyed them all anyways.

“Not too distracted to kick your butt, egg face!”

Dr. Eggman’s grin immediately slipped away.

“What the-” Sonic spin dashed directly into the egg mobile, cutting off the doctor’s confusion to send him spiraling into the air.

 In the same breath, the hero smashed each one of the badniks with ease. It took no time at all and with one last satisfying ‘crunch’, Sonic landed on his feet, patting the dust off of his gloves. 

“Seems like you’re the distracted one here. Are you finally giving up?”

“What- that- you-” The evil genius sputtered, leaning out over his floating carriage to scan the damage done to his robots down below. His hands gripped the metal ledge and his goggled gaze cut over to the blue hedgehog, a scowl fixed on his face. “You! Why aren’t you intensely distracted by something stupid and mundane?!”

Sonic cocked a brow at the fuming scientist. “Yeaaah… that’s not really my MO. I thought you would’ve known that by now.”

“NO! The serum, it- you were supposed to-”

Dr. Eggman released a fierce howl of frustration that had Sonic jolting in surprise. He’d upset the man multiple times in the past, what with foiling his schemes all the time and all that, but this felt different. And admittedly a strange reaction for a casual battle where Eggman had come to attack with basically nothing prepared.

The man stabbed a finger down at the hedgehog, leaning so far forward the Eggmobile tilted dangerously in the air. 

“This isn’t over hedgehog!”

And with that, he swiveled around and hovered away. Sonic watched from his spot on the ground, arms crossed and foot tapping speedy patterns against the dirt.

“Jeez. What is with everybody today?”

<< Master Post / NEXT >>

[5-puthyyy]

The Apprentice (Agatha x Rio x Reader) - Chapter 10

AO3 LINK

Word Count: 7.6k

Summary:

Life has been about survival for you ever since your coven banished you for the simplest thing: desire. Since then, you've travelled from Inn to Inn, making ends meet, until you sense a powerful Magick presence coming from two mysterious women. They take you in as their apprentice and you end up learning far more than what you came for...

CHAPTER WARNINGS! -- (18+ ONLY) SEXUAL CONTENT + EDGING? + ROPE (VINE) PLAY + SLIGHT DEGRADATION? VERY MINIMAL

Ch.1 ~ Ch.2 ~ Ch.3 ~ Ch.4 ~ Ch.5 ~ Ch.6 ~ Ch.7 ~ Ch.8 ~ Ch.9 ~ Ch.10

It took you a few days to realise it, but when you finally did it hit you right in the chest. You are restless without Rio. Agatha has been there for you, holding you, coaxing you through your desires, teaching you lesson after lesson, but something is missing. And after the third night of terrible sleep, you realise you miss Rio.

“When will she be back?” you ask Agatha for the fifth time in the last two days, pouting when she sighs dismissively, “Agatha,” you whine out her name, drawing the syllables out, “When?”

The blue-eyed witch turns to you with a frown, revealing the heavy bags under her eyes that match your own. “Her job is complicated, sweetheart. We can never be sure how long she is needed for. You must be patient, and understand–”

You groan audibly and shut your eyes tight, interrupting Agatha. “Maybe I would understand if you would just tell me what it is she–”

“Did you just interrupt me?” Agatha scolds, her eyes squinting in warning. But you’ve received plenty warning from her about this, far too many for her to simply let it go.

“I’m sorry,” you start, attempting to plead your case, but Agatha cuts you off with a snarl and a typically gentle hand to your throat. It’s rough, the touch shocking you as she shoves you against the bedroom door. You’ve been spending the nights in their bedroom with Agatha, and think perhaps Rio’s lingering scent has made you miss her even more. You can even smell her on Agatha when you bury your face in her neck before going to bed.

“Sorry?” Agatha mocks, scoffing as she pushes her body flush against yours, her fingers tightening their hold on the sides of your neck. You whimper in submission, trying to tilt your head back but she keeps you still, her intense gaze still locked to your sorry eyes.

Before you can even open your mouth to apologise again, Agatha’s lips are roughly pressed to yours. Her invading tongue pushes through right away, establishing her dominance as you whimper into her touch, melting as she slides her tongue against yours, claiming you over and over again. But before you can start roaming your hands over her body, she abruptly pulls back leaving you hazed and confused.

“What?” you mumble, blinking your eyes open with a frown.

Agatha’s expression is one of controlled anger with the tiniest hint of satisfaction as she glances over your blushed cheeks, pouty lips, beaked buds through your thin gown.

“Why did you stop?” you moan in complaint, reaching out to grab at her but Agatha takes a step away from you in defiance; your frown deepens as you pout, begging for her to touch you.

The wicked witch smirks as she crosses her arms over her chest. “Naughty girls deserve to be punished,” Agatha says simply, walking away before you can protest. You’re left with your mouth hung open, equally shocked and turned on. Is this your punishment? Because you would much rather be spanked than have your desires ignored.

“Wait, please–”

Agatha cackles as she continues walking to the little washroom attached to the bedroom. “Begging will not work, sweetheart. You need to learn your lesson. Now, go tend to the garden, and wash yourself up afterwards. We’ll be headed to the Inn this evening.”

The Inn. Your Inn. With Catherine, the innkeeper’s daughter who very clearly provoked a certain type of reaction from Agatha and Rio the last time you were seen with her.

“Do you really think that’s a good idea?” you ask timidly, turning your head away from Agatha’s intense glare as she spins back. You take that as your answer and nod, leaving the room and shutting the door behind you with a soft thud.

Well, fuck.

Perhaps it wasn’t your best decision, but since Agatha refuses to touch you the best you could think of was making that task as hard as possible for her. Perhaps she’ll break, or it’ll only anger her further. You’ve come to learn that an angry Agatha is either the best or worse outcome; it’s the worst when the anger turns into yelling, tears, and a deeply painful feeling in your chest, but it’s the best when it turns into smirks, rough hands and angry kisses all over your skin.

Picking out the best dress possible was easy enough since you only have a few anyway. The cut of the top half is enticing enough without the undergarments you opted for, the special kind that pushes your breasts up as high as possible. Your corset is dark, black, intricately laced and worn over your dress as a statement; that statement is clear enough to Agatha it seems, her eyes darkening the moment you step out of your bedroom to show her just how ready you are to go.

“Is it time already?” you ask innocently, your tone teasing and playful. The smile you flash at her is knowing as she cannot keep her eyes away from your chest. She’ll look up at you trying to hold your gaze but those poor blues inevitably bounce back down. Part of you thinks (hopes) Agatha will decide right here and now to skip out on the Inn and devour you right here in the hallway, but instead she gathers her composure and straightens her back.

“If you think I will give in to these childish games, you do not know me well enough.”

You lift a brow as she brushes past you, faltering in her step when she’s close enough to get a whiff of your scent. Her head snaps to you, suddenly gripping you by the neck to pull you closer. A gasp is ripped from your throat as her nose presses against your skin.

“Is this…”

Rio’s perfume. It’s a special mix she makes just for herself, a brand, a unique blend that is distinctly her. Agatha growls at the realisation that you must have snuck back into the room while she was napping earlier and taken Rio’s perfume from the nightstand.

“Oh, I’m sorry…Was that not permitted?”

Her jaw tightens at the faux innocence in your tone. Before she can stop herself, she leans in and sinks her teeth into your skin, giving you no warm up whatsoever. You gasp, hands immediately skying up to grip at her free hair. Every time she has her hair down like this, you cannot help but obsess over it. It’s so soft, so pretty, so wild and free and so Agatha.

“Whose attention are you trying to get tonight?” Agatha growls against your neck, sucking, biting, her hot tongue swiping over the wound.

“Yours,” you gasp, arching your body closer to her, “Always yours.”

Though she may not believe you completely, she still pulls back satisfied with your answer, and the bright smirk on her face as her eyes lock onto the mark she has left lets you know she’s satisfied with how she’s branded you. Your stomach drops, twisting uncomfortably with the thought of Catherine seeing the mark and understanding the insinuation.

Agatha senses your discomfort and it only fuels her excitement for tonight. The two of you are out the door before you can protest further.

The sound of lively music and laughter can be heard from far out. It seems the Inn is busy tonight, or the people are louder. Whatever the reason is, you still hear it as you see it in the distance, Agatha’s hold tightening around your linked arms as you approach. It’s a innocent enough touch, but one that you two share the secret of. It’s exciting, you think, the sinking feeling in your stomach turning into something else close to desire. To sit by her, have her hand trailing up and down your thigh under the table for no one to see but for you to feel…

Just the thought has you clearing that ball forming in your throat, catching Agatha’s knowing smirk shot your way. She wraps her arm around yours tighter, pressing her side to yours as you reach the door.

“Best behaviour,” Agatha warns teasingly, nipping at your ear discreetly before pushing the door open, letting everyone see the bright blush on your cheeks. The loud roar of joint singing hits you as the door opens; along with the sounds of boots hitting the ground, fists slamming against tables, and the men playing their fiddles in the back, it’s almost overwhelming. But it’s been some time since you’ve last been here, been around people in general other than Agatha and Rio, so you allow yourself a moment of adjustment. Agatha stays firm beside you, grounding, supportive, guiding.

You’re too distracted, watching over both the familiar and new faces in the crowd. The same group of gossiping grey women are sat in their corner, their typical scowls taken over by cheerful smiles as they join the crowd in their joyous singing. The main singing man is the same as he always is, immediately grinning widely when his eyes catch yours. He sings and sings and sings, stomping on the table as he does so, tipping his hat to you in the middle of his dance.

“There is a tavern in the town, in the town, and there my true love sits him down, sits him down, and drinks his wine as merry as can be, and never, never thinks of me!”

You begin to clap along with them, a soft smile on your lips as you reminisce. Despite you needing to hide yourself and look over your shoulder all the time, it was still a unique, warm feeling to be part of this community. You were still yourself, only showing them the parts that were safe enough to reveal.

“Fare thee well, for I must leave thee, do not let this parting grieve thee, and remember that the best of friends, must part, must part.”

Agatha’s hand is back, her touch warm and firm against your lower back. She passes you a pint, a half-smirk on her lips as she observes your freeing expression. Her reappearance is a reminder of what you left for. A soft warmth takes over your insides, making it incredibly hard not to lay a gentle kiss over her lips at this exact moment. She’s well aware of your struggle, finding it just as difficult; you can tell by the way her eyes go hooded, zoning into your pink, plump lips.

“Adieu, adieu kind friends, adieu, adieu, adieu, I can no longer stay with you, stay with you, I will hang my harp on the weeping willow tree, and may the world go well with thee.”

Those eyes look even brighter with the candlelight here, those blues tinted a soft orange as they glitter and glow at you. You can’t help but reach to hold her hand in yours, squeezing once, twice, pulling away when it crosses over to inappropriate.

The two of you make your way to a table near the back, badly lit so dark enough for no one to really want to be seated there. Agatha sits across from you, both your dresses long and puffed enough to prevent anyone from seeing her sneaky antics. She slowly lifts her leg, the one closer to the wall and hidden behind her other, and slides her foot under your dress. 

You only realise what she’s doing when you feel her warm foot brush against your ankle; the sip of alcohol you were drinking catches in your throat. “Agatha,” you gasp quietly, terrified of what others may say if they catch you.

The wicked witch grins at you slyly, hiding her smile behind her own pint. “What?” she says, feigning innocence with a dramatic hand to her chest. But you cannot be fooled, not when her foot trails even higher, wrapping around your calf.

“We cannot. Not here, not where Cath–” you cut your own sentence short, cheeks tinting at the mix-up. Agatha’s touch is immediately gone, the humoured expression now taken over by a quiet discomfort. Before she spirals, you try to interrupt her thoughts, “Agatha, I simply meant that she may recognise you and make certain…assumptions. Your anger was very palpable that night. Surely you understand why I am feeling a little…”

“What?” Agatha scowls, “Protective? Why must you care what she feels? Let her assume, because her assumptions are the truth, are they not?”

A frown takes over your face as you take in her words. You’re unsure why she’s this angry about it. Surely keeping your secret is important, no? Especially considering Agatha’s past, discarded and thrown aside for being different. She should understand where you’re coming from…but below the anger, you see a hint of something else, something vulnerable that looks dangerously close to insecurity.

“If what she assumes is that I lo–”

“Y/N?”

Both your heads snap to the sound of your name, landing on Catherine, stood with wide, green eyes, a beautifully intricate beige and pink dress flowing to her ankles, and her blonde curls tight just below her shoulders. Agatha surprisingly contains herself, offering Catherine a thin, forced smile; you figured she’d jump up over the table with a growl.

“Y/N, oh, God, how are you? Where have you been?” Catherine rushes over to the table, her heels clacking against the floorboards. Instinctively, you stand up and let her hug you, wrapping your arms around her when she falls forward a little, tripping over the edge of your chair.

“Catherine,” you mumble with a soft laugh, “It’s good to see you,” pulling away from the hug doesn’t seem to work as you attempt to put a little distance. Catherine simply pulls you back closer, so close her nose is just an inch or so away from pressing to yours.

“I have missed you,” she says in a whisper, eyes hooded as she stares into your own, “Dearly,” she adds, her voice turning dark, deep, a clear attempt at a rasp.

The clearing of a throat pulls her attention away. While your head turns to Agatha expecting the sound to have come from her, Catherine’s turns the other way. When your eyes meet Agatha’s blues, there’s a humoured glimmer in them. She lifts a brow, pointedly looking over your shoulder and you have a feeling you’re about to be in deep trouble.

Slowly, you look over to the other side, gasping softly when your eyes land on Rio, stood with a deep glare over her face, a clenched jaw so dangerously sharp, eyes that could kill with a blink. Her black dress is scandalous to be wearing in public, tight around her curves which you can only see because she’s kept her oversized green cloak open at the front.

“Rio,” you whisper, immediately pulling away from Catherine to jump forward. Once the shock dissipates, all that is left is pure want, your heart yearning to be as close to her now that she’s back.

She has no time to react as you fall into her, arms wrapping around her neck; hers dangle for a moment awkwardly before sinking around your curves, pulling you in possessively tight. You can hear her breath hitching as her face presses into your neck, sniffing deeply; her hands grip your waist tight as she recognises her own scent on you, softly growling into your neck.

She’s so impossibly cold but you don’t care. Her touch is what you’ve been needing for so long, her scent, her presence, so comforting and protective. The way she holds you tight against her as if you belong to her, like she’s missed you and ached for something as simple as a hug, needing you just as badly as you need her. You forget yourself for that moment, falling into her safe arms and melting as she buries her face in your neck and refuses to leave it.

But suddenly, Catherine is laughing awkwardly, forcing the two of you to let go for a moment. It breaks you out of your Rio-bubble for a moment, panic filling your stomach at the closeness Catherine just saw. It seems to have broken Rio out of her Y/N-bubble too, her anger back as she stiffens against you, effectively pulling away until you’re no longer touching.

“New friends?” Catherine asks with a confused half-smile.

It definitely isn’t your best move, but you can’t think of anything but run and decide to pull Catherine away from the two angry witches. “Why don’t I buy you drink? Catch me up on how the Inn has been!”

Minutes later, you realise it was possibly the worst decision you could have made in that moment. Catherine started, and would not stop. But that wasn’t even the biggest problem; that was Rio across the Inn with the deepest of glares to begin with, but that since then has shifted into something you cannot decipher. It’s blank, dark, but she’s refusing to look at anything but you. Agatha’s hand is glued to Rio’s, running a thumb back and forth to soothe her, but it doesn’t do much to calm the bouncing of her knee as she watches Catherine continue to flirt with you.

Perhaps you should go back? The way you’re laughing back dangerously looks like flirting too, especially when she gets closer and closer to you, her hand touching your own, brushing over your bicep, tucking your stray hair behind your ear. And you do nothing to stop it. Part of you starts to enjoy it, though you will never admit that to the two witches across the Inn. You enjoy Catherine’s friendship, and there is no harm in her flirting; it feels good to be wanted. But within minutes you find yourself wanting nothing but Rio, Agatha, your little cabin away from the chaos that comes with this Inn.

It’s more than chaos, but fear. Of not fitting in, of revealing too much of your past, of the lack of acceptance. Agatha and Rio have given you that and more, all you could have ever wanted. Finally coming to a decision, you clear your throat, interrupting Catherine’s story.

“I should head back to my…friends.” 

Catherine frowns, turning to glance over her shoulder to them. “They look awfully familiar…”

“Oh, you must have been drinking too much to remember. I met them here, they sit in that corner all the time!” you laugh nervously, hoping the lie works.

Catherine remains suspicious but drops it when she realises she has bigger problems, one being you disappearing on her again. “Have you been staying elsewhere? Or working? Somewhere far away? I really do miss you, Y/N…There’s so much I think about, so much I would like to say to you but I feel…I feel it may be inappropriate and almost futile to do so if you will not be around.”

“Y/N,” Rio’s raspy voice is easily recognisable to you, suddenly appearing by your side, “We must go,” she says with finality, her tone making it crystal clear that it’s an order, not a suggestion.

“Sorry, I don’t believe we have been properly introduced,” Catherine shoots Rio a bright, beautiful smile, as if she is trying to crack the hard interior being thrown her way, “My name is Cath–”

“And we will not be introduced. Y/N.”

Shooting up out of your seat, you give a confused and offended Catherine an apologetic smile, promising to see her soon. You try to follow Rio out, opting out of a hug, but Catherine practically forces you into one, whispering a soft ‘be careful’, clearly interpreting Rio’s abrupt nature as a danger. You can’t help but laugh.

By the time you step out of the Inn, Rio’s already a walk ahead so you practically run to her. “Rio! Rio, wait, is Agatha not–”

“She’s staying for another drink or so,” Rio answers bluntly, not turning back to look at you as she marches in anger.

A frown forms on your lips and you stop, crossing your arms over your chest in annoyance. “Why are you being this way?” you complain, yelling out as she’s still ahead of you. 

That seems to catch Rio’s attention; she slows before coming to a stop. “Why?” Rio repeats, the anger shaking her voice as she turns to face you, “I have been gone, and it has been excruciating being away from Agatha, and you,” she says, emphasising you, “And I am finally able to come back. Just to track the two of you, and find you draping yourself over some other woman. In front of Agatha, nonetheless.”

You gulp as she steps closer to you, finally coming to a stop right in front of you. She’s not much taller than you, but it feels like she’s towering of you in this moment as she glares deeply, trying to mask her hurt with anger.

“Not only have you been disrespectful to me, but to Agatha, too. And on the very day you were being punished for whining like a child? My, you really are stupid, aren’t you?”

Her harsh words feel like a slap across the face. Rio’s been angry, distant, but cruel is not a word you’d use to describe her. Before you can even open your mouth to apologise, you’re transported back to the cabin in a cloud of green smoke. Stumbling as you try and gather yourself, your arm ends up gripping her bicep. Rio can’t help but pull you closer at that, lifting you into her arms and pressing you up against her bedroom door. Before she kisses you, she pauses a moment, breathing in your gasps and soft breaths, eyes so beautifully brown, wide and intense.

“I wish I did not have to punish you this moment,” Rio mumbles, sighing as she memorises every crease in your forehead, the curve of your nose, the plump shape of your lips, “I have missed you dearly, my sweet…” Rio’s voice turns soft for a moment before she growls, “If only you missed me so.”

Her lips crash against yours, claiming, possessive, and rough; she sucks at your bottom lip roughly before nipping at it in soft punishment, groaning as you whimper against her. She allows you only a few seconds of roaming hands, nails scratching along her back through her cloak, but before you can go any further your hands are pulled back, a rough material wrapping around them in seconds.

“What is that?” you mumble as Rio pulls away from your lips for a moment, satisfied as she observes your flushed cheeks and dazed eyes.

“No touching,” Rio commands simply, tugging at the contraption holding your hands together, “It’s about time you’re introduced to my vines,” she chuckles playfully, trailing softer kisses down your neck as you sigh and turn your head to the side. Rio’s pleased with your obedience, immediately marking your new skin with her teeth, tongue, lips that suck and kiss tenderly.

“I did,” you gasp out, arching your body towards her when you tug against your restraints aimlessly.

“Did what?” Rio whispers against your neck, licking up to the spot just behind your ear. She sucks harshly, coaxing a choked moan out of you, smirking against your skin as she does so.

You struggle to keep hold of your composure, the ache between your legs growing by the second, but you manage to push you, “Miss you. I did miss you, Rio.”

She falters in her kisses, her grip on your waist loosening for a moment of weakness. “And here I was,” she chuckles, “thinking you liked Agatha more than me,” she jokes, but you can hear the vulnerability and insecurity she’s attempting to mask. 

With a frown, you brush your nose against her cheek, trying to get her attention. It takes a few frustrated attempts but she finally pulls back to look into your eyes with a sigh, and a tight jaw. “Why would you think that?”

Rio mumbles incoherently, choosing to ignore your question and silence you with a rough kiss. Her tongue slides against your bottom lip before slithering through, brushing over your teeth, tongue, the roof of your mouth as if claiming her territory. You let her do so, finding this to be a comfort to her; if she’ll ignore your words, you’ll let her take you as she pleases until there is not a single flash of uncertainty left in those beautiful brown eyes.

All you can do is submit to her touch. She yanks at the restraints, tugging you forward to follow her to the bed. But instead of sitting you down on it, she pushes at your shoulders until your knees hit the ground. Looking up at her with parted lips, you take in just how ethereal she is. Her brown locks look untamed, frizzy and almost as wild as those eyes. She almost looks feral, but still controlled as her eyes follow the movement of your neck as you gulp.

“You missed me?” Rio asks softly, her hand reaching to gently hold your jaw.

Sighing and leaning into her touch, you blink softly. “I did.”

Rio shoots you a small, satisfied smile before it turns dark, her jaw clenching and hand sliding down to your neck. “Then show me.”

You’re well aware that your hands are tied, but the look of desire Rio shoots down has you tugging, desperate to pull at her thighs until your face is pressed exactly where she wants it. With a chuckle and flick of her fingers, her clothing falls off her body, pooling at her ankles. Seeing her now, entirely naked, all smooth, tanned skin…God, you don’t know how you haven’t collapsed yet. Forgetting to take a breath causes you to get a little lightheaded but Rio’s hand is right there to keep you upright.

She leans down, her concerned but humoured eyes meeting yours. “Should I take that as a good sign?” Rio teases, her thumb brushing over your cheek.

Without uttering a word back, you slide your face against her hand until her thumb’s pressed against your lips. Rio’s eyes turn a shade darker, hooded as you flick a tongue out, teasing her for a moment before wrapping your lips around the tip of her tongue. And then you suck, hard, cheeks hollowed, and Rio can’t control the gasp that escapes, can’t control the way her teeth clench together, the wetness gathering between her legs and coating her inner thighs.

With a growl that almost sounds close to a whine, she rises back up to her feet, hands gripping onto your locks tightly. The two of your move together, you moving your head forward while she pushes you closer until your tongue is sliding through her slick folds. You moan in unison at the first touch, Rio almost quivering with desperate want.

“Fuck, baby, you’re so good at that,” Rio’s praises shoot right down to your core; your thighs press together, desperate for the tiniest spark of friction. Tugging at your restraints doesn’t work again as you feel the urge to grip at her thighs and pull her closer. Rio does the work instead, using your mouth for her pleasure.

Her nails scratch along your scalp as she rolls her lips languidly, trying to savour the moment, all the while maintaining eye contact with you. The way she looks down with her lips parted practically panting like she’s in heat drives you to insanity. Eager to please, you swirl your tongue around her entrance, teasing it before sliding in with ease.

“Yes, just like that,” Rio hisses at the feeling, staggering for a moment before grinding down harder, wanting more of you inside her. It takes another minute of your tongue expertly twisting and swirling inside her before a disgruntled whimper escapes her, and within seconds she’s twisted around, pushing your head against the edge of the bed to let it down.

“Please,” you pant out the moment your tongue slips out of her, licking your lips for more of her sweet taste, “I want to make you–”

Rio cuts you off by pushing her lips against you again, letting you drown in her with desperate, muffled moans. She lets out the same as she grinds her clit over your tongue hard, fast, her rhythm faltering.

“Yes, fuck, Y/N,” she moans your name, throwing her head back as she practically mounts your face smothering you between her thighs, “So good for me,” she pants, “So pretty,” she gasps, her head bouncing back to look you in the eyes as she reaches her climax. It’s that, seeing that desperate, eager-to-please look, the clear submission, hands tied but tongue obedient to her. That’s what pushes her over the edge.

She whines as she comes, hips twitching, so close your nose is buried in her. Wanting to see just how far you can push her, you suddenly wrap your lips around her clit, sucking while flicking your tongue. It forces a high-pitched scream from her throat, desperate, croaky, so incredibly sexy you feel your own heat throbbing in response. God, you could come just from this, you’re sure of it, whimpering and whining around her clit as you pulse, empty and desperate to be filled.

Once Rio pulls herself back, you lick at your lips again, panting up at her with lust-filled feral eyes. She groans at the intense gaze you give her, clearly taken by you; she can barely contain herself, forgetting you’re meant to be punished for your behaviour as she drops down to lick herself off your face. Her tongue slides over your skin, your chin, neck, wherever she finds herself before slipping past your lips.

You moan into the kiss, letting her set a languid pace as your tongues dance together softly. “Please,” you beg, whispering against her lips as she pulls back for a moment, but she ignores you, kissing you again and again until you’re whining, trying to grind up into nothing, “Rio, please.”

She chuckles wickedly, biting on your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, but the pain is gone just as fast as her tongue swipes against it. You’re confused for a moment on how she’s done that, but you’re too distracted to ask, your desire ever-present in a messy, heated pulse between your legs.

“Are you forgetting this is a punishment?” her hand slides up your chest, pinching your nipples through your dress, “This is quite the outfit,” she mumbles hungrily, watching your breasts push up as you heave, “Were you trying to impress that whore?”

“No!” you immediately protest, shaking your head vigorously, “I swear it, I was only attempting to frust–” you cut your own words off, realising you’ve fallen into a trap. Rio grins in satisfaction, tipping your head up with a finger to your chin.

“Frustrate…Agatha?”

There’s a silence as you refuse to answer, terrified of the repercussions. But you’re already in them, already experiencing them. It seems Rio is being creative with her punishment tonight, choosing to ignore your desires completely knowing it would drive you to the very brink of losing your composure.

Rio rises to her feet, your face directly in front of her glistening heat again. But this time she swirls her fingers, controlling the vines. More of them manifest, this time gripping your ankles too, and separating your wrists; you’re pulled up the bed until you’re spread across for her. With another snap of her fingers, your clothes suddenly disappear, but she leaves the tight black corset over your stomach just for her satisfaction.

“You’re so beautiful…” Rio says with wonder, running her slender, cold fingers over your legs, thighs, purposely ignoring the obvious mess between them, “Something as beautiful as this deserves to be worshipped…too bad you won’t be touched tonight.”

A pout springs and tears immediately fill up in your eyes. Surely she must be teasing? Just a threat to make sure you behave? “I’ll be good, I promise, please,” you plead, your voice quivering in fear.

Rio falters for a moment before her hard gaze steadies again. Her touch is cold, dangerously so, but you crave it so, pulsing with need; within seconds she’s left you, walking into small washroom attached to their bedroom. Rio ignores your pleas, your desperate cries for her to come back. As much as it pains her, you must be punished for your bratty behaviour.

By the time she comes back, you’ve quieted down to soft whimpers, the pout still painted on your swollen lips. You perk up when you see her, trying to lift your neck to see what she’s hiding behind her back.

“It seems you have forgotten who you belong to,” Rio rasps, “And that as much as you are ours…we are also yours.”

Her words hit hard, harder than you expected them to. There’s nothing to do but watch her in adoration, wanting to voice your own feelings too but finding your throat too dry to speak those words. Rio hums as she observes but then reveals what she’s holding behind her back. You immediately tense up as your eyes lock onto the leather cock, made of a dark green material this time. It’s slightly thicker but shorter than the one she had used last time, but it makes you hungry for it nonetheless, desperate for the stretch.

But Rio shocks you this time as the vines let go of your ankles just for her to start sliding the harness up your legs. “Wait, what are you–”

“I told you, Y/N. You will not be touched tonight,” she says with finality, leaving no room for argument. Even as you open your mouth to protest, she stops you, climbing on top you and crawling like a cat until two of her fingers slip past your lips. Moaning at the filthy act, you swirl your tongue between her fingers, sucking gently, obediently, eyes locked to hers trying to entice her. But she doesn’t give in. Instead, she simply smirks at your pathetic desperation and rolls her hips over the fake cock between your legs.

Rio sighs softly at the first touch, letting it pass through her folds to slick it up. It doesn’t take much; not after your eager tongue and the long wait while she’s been gone. You gasp around her fingers, and she stutters, eyes locked to yours while lifting her hips up, using her other hand to adjust the cock. Rio sinks down, gasping at the filling sensation. It stretches her deliciously, and clearly it’s been a while for her given the slow, sensual pace.

“Fuck,” she curses softly, leaning forward to press her forehead against yours, fingers still buried in your mouth. You suck on them when you wake up from your haze, bringing her urgency back to life. She gasps again as she bounces down hard, so hard the lewd sound of your bodies meeting echoes in the room.

Rio pushes her fingers further in, forcing a gag out of you; the sound only excites her as she begins a slow but hard pace, sitting up until she’s nearly empty then slamming back down again with a loud groan. Though you’re turned on beyond belief, all you want to do at this moment is hold her, grip her waist, mouth at her breasts. You want to feel her, to guide her through her pleasure.

“Please,” you beg, muffled with her fingers still in your mouth. Rio continues to ignore you, too caught up in seeking her own pleasure. The wet sound of her pussy clamping around your cock is dizzying, paired with her enticing moans and you’re a goner, “Fuck, please, Rio,” you beg, but your pleas only urge her on more. 

She bounces down harder, grinding her hips against yours to seek friction over her clit, but she sees it’s not enough she risks taking her fingers out and giving you the ability to speak once again. Those same fingers, wet from your mouth, slide down to her clit right away as she sits up.

“You’re breathtaking,” you gasp, finally able to look down between her legs where you two meet. She’s practically shining, absolutely soaked; her slick coats both your thighs, sticking to the leather cock as it pistons through her over and over again, “Fuck, Rio, please, I want–”

Rio breaks your words with a loud moan, using her other hand to grope at her chest. “I already told you, sweetheart. You’re not getting touched tonight.”

You groan in frustration, hands turning into fists as you fail to contain your needs. “I don’t care, Rio, I just want to touch you!”

The witch falters on top of you, not expecting you to be that desperate for touching her. “You–” she stutters, moaning softly as a roll of her hips has the cock pressing up all her sensitive spots, “You want to touch me?” Rio asks again, her tone curious, surprised, eyes wide and analytical as she stares down at you.

The way she’s looking at you is almost hypnotic. “Please, let me, just let me hold you,” you whimper, tugging against the restraints again.

Rio leans down, her lips hovering over yours and pulling back when you reach up too close to kiss her. “Really?” she whispers, brushing her nose against yours as she wraps herself around you, “You want to touch me, baby?”

A whimper escapes you. “Yes. Please, I need to touch you.”

Rio sucks in a harsh breath, gripping your jaw for a moment, just looking at you before pouncing down like a cat. Her lips attach to yours in a tender but controlling kiss, moaning into your mouth as you brush your tongue against hers. She begins slamming her hips down against you again, whining into the kiss. 

This time when you tug, you pull hard and the restraints fall with your wrists. Not wasting a second, you reach down and grip her waist finding her skin warm to the touch now. Rio leans into the touch, pressing her body down to yours as tight as possible.

“You feel so good, so warm,” you pant against her lips, nipping at her lower lip playfully as your hands slides to her backside. You indulge for a moment, squeezing to see her reaction; she groans, grinding her hips hard enough for the pressure to build up on your own clit, “Fuck, yes.”

Rio swallows your gasp, unable to keep her lips off yours. With your grip hard and secure, you help move her up and down, lifting your own hips up to meet her halfway. Your eagerness drives Rio crazy, warming her stomach with desire and adoration for you; she leans down whining against your lips, brushing over them every few seconds as you thrust into her.

“Wanna see you come,” you mumble incoherently, eyes wide with feral desire. All you have is one goal and that is to make her unravel before your eyes.

Rio groans possessively at that, sliding her tongue through your lips in a quick goodbye before she sits up again. She literally rips the corset still covering you, throwing it to the side. Her nails dig into your stomach as she holds for balance, keeping her hooded brown eyes locked to you. She’s close, you can tell by the faltering grinds, the moans bordering on whines, how her legs suddely weaken, allowing you to move her instead.

With quick movements, you let go of her backside and slide a hand between her legs. Your thumb presses at her clit, rubbing hard circles as she gasps, twitching on top of you. “Come for me,” you beg, “Please.”

“Say it,” Rio demands between gasps, hanging on by a thread.

You immediately know what she’s requesting and grip her hip tightly. “I’m yours, Rio.”

With your clear, certain words, Rio’s neck snaps back, body arching as she slams down onto your cock. You keep thrusting up, grinding into her and rubbing your thumb over her clit, watching with parted lips at the work of art on top of you. Her skin flushes as she reaches her high, red blooming over her chest, neck, those rosy cheeks.

You can’t help but lean up, ignoring the pain in your abdomen muscles at the stretch; you need your lips attached to her in some way. Your mouth finds her neck, sinking your teeth possessively; Rio’s hand curves around to the back of your neck to hold you tight against her, gasping, panting, barely able to utter a word, but her eagerness for you to stay is all the praise you need.

“Y/N, baby,” Rio moans, voice hoarse, hips twitching as your thumb decides to slow down and let her ride her way back down. Only when she tugs on your hair do you slide your thumb away, holding onto her ass instead to help her gently grind until she’s had enough.

Rio hums in satisfaction as she climbs off your lap, rolling until she’s lying by your side. She pulls you into her arms and you eagerly bury your face in her neck, letting her earthy scent melt over you. You refused to squirm despite the painful pulse of neglect between your thighs; you’re determined to take your punishment as is. Perhaps you’ll be rewarded tomorrow morning for it, or–

“You’ve been so good, sweetheart,” Rio murmurs against your nest of hair, leaving a gentle lingering kiss on your forehead, “Do you think you deserve a reward?” Rio asks, playfully nipping at your ear.

You can’t help but softly whimper at the teasing touch, already feeling her hand creeping up around your waist. “I deserve what you feel like giving.”

Perfect answer. You can tell from Rio’s wolf-like grin as she slithers down, leaving soft yet possessive kisses along your skin. She slows once she reaches your stomach, taking her time to mark you, claim you, making sure you have a reminder of who you belong to. The leather cock is long gone by now, thrown onto the floor as Rio undoes the harness with ease.

“Please,” you sigh, squirming up against her stomach, ensuring she can feel just how soaked you are for her. The warm slick pulls a groan from the depths of her throat. Rio scratches your sides on her way down until she reaches your thighs, tugging them over her shoulder. She takes no moment to observe, to tease, to lick the wetness around your inner thighs. No, Rio dives right in like a hungry wolf, unable to contain herself from slipping her tongue directly through to your inner walls.

You feel yourself immediately clamping down around her hot, expert tongue as she curls it, swirls, finding every spot to make you weak in her arms. You’ve been so worked up you’re already so close – which is likely why she’s avoided your throbbing clit. Letting her savour the moment, you arch your back and dig your fingers into her scalp, pushing her further into your wet core.

“God, I’m–Fuck, this is–” you stumble and stutter around, unable to form a coherent sentence, already seeing spots in your vision. The pleasure is searing, bordering painful from the edging, from her neglection, from the pressure of her pounding on top of you, “Rio, fuck, don’t stop, please.”

Rio hums against you in answer, the vibrations rushing straight through to your clit. It has you gasping, thighs tightening around her head. You’re worried for a moment on how she could possibly breathe down there but Rio simply growls hungrily, sliding her tongue out to lick through your slit, refusing to let a drop go to waste. 

Before you can protest, feeling so empty, Rio’s fingers replace her tongue, curling in deliciously hitting that spot that makes you see stars. She allows your thrown back head, allows you to groan and moan and thrust your hips up against her face, her fingers. Seeing you so free, taken with pleasure is an astonishing sight for her. 

“I wanna–Fuck, please, please make me come,” you moan out pathetically, your cheeks flushing in humiliation at how desperate you sound. But Rio lets out a sound, one that borders on painful and you glance down to look at her expression. She looks completely taken, her eyes blown wide, nothing but adoration and a deep desire in them. She looks just as desperate as you do when she flicks her tongue over your clit, sucking it into her mouth.

It’s that moment when she looks at you with darkened, powerful eyes that flash black, a colour you’ve never seen before in them. The fear mixed with the excitement of her power has you moaning like a whore, loud and high as you reach your climax. Rio’s right there to hold you through it, fucking her fingers through the wet tightness of your walls. 

She doesn’t stop, not until there are tears slipping down your cheeks as you push against her head. She marks her way back up again, leaving bright colours over your skin until she reaches your parted, panting lips. Rio doesn’t kiss you, just looks at you, looks through you. Her hand feels hot against your cheek, but it’s fleeting, as if you’re fragile and precious to her. 

The sound of footsteps catches your attention, forcing Rio to snap out of her hypnosis; she turns back to see Agatha standing by the door, leaning on the ledge with a smirk.

“Satisfied?”

Rio huffs in soft laughter, leaning back on the pillow with an arm stretched behind her head. “Very.”

Agatha hums, nodding as she steps forward. “Good,” the witch states, taking her time as she pulls the strings at the back of her dress, “It’s my turn. Let’s see if you’ve learnt your lesson, little dove.”

masterlist + guidelines

[whor-ror-forever]

Drabbles by Daylight - Chapter 1: The Ghostface x AFAB Reader

Words: 1,367

Tags: dirty talk, vaginal sex, knife play, fear play, dubcon

Summary: Poor reader gets caught by Ghostface, who wants to have a new type of fun

Read on Ao3

Shit, you were sure that you had gotten a splinter from grabbing that fucking pallet. No matter, that was the least of your worries, in fact, you’d accept a thousand splinters if it meant you could make this nightmare end. 

The sky was dark and cloudy and there was the scent of wet dirt in the air. A strangely pleasant smell, or it would be if you were anywhere but there. The muscles in your legs burned from running, your lungs were sore, and sweat poured down your face. You weren’t sure who was left, you had been hearing screams all night, cries of horror coming from the other three unfortunate folks who had been brought there with you. 

You were sure that most of the others had been taken down at this point, the screaming had become less and less frequent. You run into an old cabin, and the generator there had not been worked on. It was a risky move, trying to fix it from the start, but you were too afraid to try and make it across the grounds. 

You got to work, pulling and twisting and pushing, somehow knowing what you were doing despite having no training in mechanics. You wiped your forehead as you panted, though you tried to keep quiet. The killer was a sneaky one, and could come around at any moment. You had already been injured once, one more strike and you would collapse. You bit your lip, the generator about half way done. 

A twig snaps, and your head turns. It was so quiet, not even the wind was audible. Your heart pounded, threatening to burst from your chest. You turned your attention back to the task at hand, but your blood froze as you caught a glimpse of the masked figure slipping into the cabin with you.

“N-No…” You stammer, standing up quickly and getting ready to sprint. 

The masked figure tapped the tip of his knife against the side of his head. “Sorry, little lady, looks like you’re fucked,” he spat, followed by a cruel cackle. 

You back away, holding your injured stomach. There were no bandages, so you had been leaving a trail of black blood. “Please, you can’t….” You start to beg, what else could you do? But you knew it was hopeless, you had been killed so many times, and the killer could never be reasoned with.

“Aww, are you frightened? Gonna cry? Gonna scream?” The Ghostface taunted, approaching you quickly. 

His arm shot out, and suddenly his hand was in your hair, grasping and pulling hard. You started thrashing, grabbing his arm and trying to pry him off as you grunted and cursed. 

“Now, now, that’s no way to act!” He growled, harshly throwing you to the ground. 

You coughed up blood, and your head was light. You didn’t even register physical pain anymore, the atmosphere of this place somehow giving you strength to carry on after being horribly hurt. In a way, it was a blessing, but it made you feel like you weren’t alive, weren’t human. 

The Ghostface kneeled down and put his masked face close to you. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Kill me? Like you have a hundred times?” You say angrily.

He laughs. “Nah, don’t think so, I’ve gotten bored of stabbing and slashing over and over, just for you assholes to come right back. I need a new experience.”

The gravel in his voice and the way he loomed over you made a familiar heat bloom between your legs. Were you really that desperate? Had it been so long since someone else touched you that you were going to settle for a killer?

“Mmmm, get on your back, bitch, and I might let you escape,” he said. 

You didn’t have much of a choice. You lied down on the hard floor, arms held to your chest. The Ghostface crawled on top of you, straddling your waist. “Knife? Or no knife?” He asked.

His wet blade hovered over your groin, and he cocked his head. “I’m thinking…knife.” He put the blade up the leg of your shorts, and started to cut. Soon, he was ripping your shorts away from you and throwing them aside. 

“Man, you still wear these?” He put the knife under your panties and quickly turned them to ribbons. “Thought you’d be better prepared for me by now, you’ve had to have known I’ve been wanting to fuck you for weeks.” 

Your cunt was soaked and throbbing, and your hips lifted almost involuntarily.

“So, so wet, all for me. What a fucking slut,” the Ghostface laughed. 

He turned his knife around and pressed the smooth handle to your folds. You close your eyes in aroused fear, and he slides the handle into you with ease. You let a moan escape you as he starts to pump the weapon in and out of your hole. 

“Dirty girl,” he purrs, taking a thumb to your aching clit. 

The knife handle glides in and out of your cunt, thick and warm. You didn’t care about the dirt and blood, only the feeling of it pushing into your g-spot. You start to drool, eyes half-lidded as your chest rises and falls rapidly. 

Your body writhes, on fire as your breath hitches. 

“Is my little whore gonna cum all over my knife?” The Ghostface says mockingly. “Nooo, she’s not, she’s gonna cum on my cock.”

He pulls the weapon from you and undoes his pants. A large, hard cock springs from his robes, dripping with pre. 

“Spread ‘em,” he orders, and you obey, spreading your legs out for him. 

He moves in between your legs and lines himself up with your entrance. “Dumb bitch, can’t believe you’re letting me do this to ya.”

He pushes himself inside of you in one strong thrust. You throw your head back and your mouth opens in a silent scream. You claw at the floor, nails leaving scratch marks on the old wood. The Ghostface lifts your legs and puts you in a mating press. 

“Now this is what I’m talking about,” he laughs, starting to fuck you hard and fast. “A good, warm pussy after a long day of killin’.” 

He returns his thumb to your hard clit, rubbing in quick circles. Your stomach tightens as his cock repeatedly slams into you. His free hand grabs your chin and forces you to look at his masked face. 

“I want you to say you’re a filthy skank,” he barks. “Do it or I’ll stop.”

Your face turns red as you consider. You didn’t want him to stop, no, you wanted this badly. 

“I-I’m a f-filthy skank…” you whimper, eyes rolling back as his cock brushes that sweet spot deep inside you. 

“That’s it, baby, that’s it. Say you want Mr. Ghostface to fill you up with his cum.” He says. 

You whine under your breath, and close your eyes. “Please fill me with cum, Mr. Ghostface…”

“Well since you asked nicely…” and he lets out a groan as you feel his warm release. 

The feeling makes your own orgasm hit you. Your body spasms as you cry out, moaning as you see flashes of light. Your greedy cunt milks him dry, and he rubs your clit as you ride out the climax. 

“Pathetic,” he mutters. 

Your head falls against the floor, and you stare at the ceiling. Your body is overtaken by a blissful  sensation as you come down from your high. Saliva seeps past your lips and your cunt leaks a mixture of your cum and his seed. 

“Well that was fun, sweetheart, but, I’m afraid I gotta get you out of the game now,” the Ghostface sighs. 

“Wait, but you said-“

“I lied,” he interrupts you and shrugs. 

He picks up his knife and plows it into your heart, your arousal still dripping down the handle. Your eyes shoot open as all the air exits your lungs. 

“See ya next time,” he cackles, giving you a wave goodbye.

As your vision fades, you can only think of how his cock felt, the girth and the throbbing. For the first time in a long time, you die happy.