#throws himself into a puddle of mud

[cloudshuffle]

physical touch. yan!penacony

Nobility AU

Prince Aventurine

It's no secret who you're bethrothed to in the palace - the blonde prince who basically has you attached at his hip, arm always linked with yours.

Aventurine showers you in physical touch - a hand on your waist or hip, pulling you closer to him as people pass by, resting on the small of your back as you move around the ballroom as a pair - anything short of simply cuddling you into his side. He can't stand being too far from you for too long.

Not that you mind too much. He smells nice and it feels like you're being sheltered, as long as you're at his side.

Dr Veritas Ratio

The professor is known to have his... reservations about people (put lightly). Yet he doesn't quite seem to have those same feelings about you; his contempt more of a clinical nature, like he's inspecting a particularly troublesome problem.

The first time he touches you is entirely by accident. You take a step back and he mistakenly thinks you've stumbled, his hand catching onto you before you can fall. You leap aside, naturally startled - of all people, Veritas Ratio caring whether you fall flat on your face?

Since then, he takes special joy in making physical contact with you and relishing the aftermath. From wiping food from your face to "accidentally" brushing hands with you during lessons, he enjoys watching your flustered, flushed expression, or the way you jump in surprise.

Sunday

As a butler, Sunday has boundaries he can't overstep, yet he manages to elegantly circumvent them anyway. He makes sure to bring you to places in the garden after a rain where the ground is still soft, then graciously offers a hand so he can help you to your place for teatime or for reading. Or he mentions that your hair could use a little fixing (it doesn't), and pretends to busy himself when he's just running his fingers through it.

Sunday likes how warm you feel, even through his gloves, and the innocent, pure trust you put in him to not shove you into a mud puddle or make your hair a mess. You're none the wiser, and he finds it's part of the fun.

Boothill

Where Sunday enjoys your ignorance, Boothill feigns it - playing the perfect part of the uneducated rogue, he throws a carefree arm around your shoulders, shaking you like a rag doll in his enthusiasm. He physically disallows you from carrying books on your own (read: snatching them from your hands), and especially likes to come up behind you, give you a scare, and then help you reach for the materials you wanted.

The librarian has given you both the stink-eye on many occasions.

He sits a little too close and talks a little too loud, but you enjoy his company. If anything, he effectively wards off any snooping, prying maids or overbearing bodyguards.

[oookay68]

An Unexpected Plus One

Luke Castellan x gn!reader

Word Count: 1186

Summary: Luke sneaks into your bed after a particularly bad nightmare only to find something unexpected

Warnings: none

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

A hot night in August followed an even hotter day. As Apollo’s golden chariot descended, Artemis’ silver took its place and with it, the stars. The once loud and busy camp is now deserted, traces of the day’s activities evident on the ground. Disturbed grass, arrows strewn messily by the targets, unorganized climbing equipment by the lava wall. In the dead of night, Camp Half-Blood was silent. 

Save for the cicadas buzzing throughout the night. The mixture of the familiar bugs and the humid air brought a smell of warmth and comfort to one Luke Castellan. He quietly crept out of Cabin Eleven, cautiously avoiding puddles of mud and cringing every time his shoe squelched in the wet grass. 

It was common for him to sneak out of the cabin in the black night. Nightmares plagued every demigod and every one dealt with them in different ways. Luke’s favorite way was to crawl into your bed and seek the comfort of your arms and smell. It was a ritual that you both did. Falling asleep with each others’ warmth was the only way you guys could rest after whatever demigod dreams you had. 

Luke thought about his dream on the way to your cabin. A disembodied voice whispering in his ear to steal. The object itself was unclear. But it wasn't like stealing was a foreign concept to Luke or that he felt it was a moral wrong. He was the son of Hermes, he and his siblings had a knack for thievery and were kleptomaniacs to varying extents. 

He ducked behind the front porch of your cabin when one of the lights turned on. He held his breath in anticipation, waiting for a harpy to come out and bust him for breaking curfew. When nothing came he continued on, muttering something about a stupid motion light. 

Luke pressed his face to your window. It was one he could find in his sleep, in fact, you once woke up to him repeatedly sleepwalking into your window. It was a memory that you would never let him forget no matter how hard he tried, a swim in the River Lethe wouldn’t be enough to erase that from your mind. He peeked through the window and smiled when he saw your face, peacefully asleep facing him.

Quietly sliding the window open, Luke stepped in and slipped off his shoes, knowing how much you hate dirty sheets. Your small bed faced the wall so he had to awkwardly throw his sneakers onto the wooden floor before he gently stepped onto your bed. You turned onto your back and mumbled something in your sleep that sounded a little bit like a cat’s meow. 

Luke stroked your hair softly and pressed a warm kiss on your forehead before crawling underneath the covers with you. When he laid down he was met with strong resistance. Sleep deprived and uncaring, he persevered and wrapped his arm around your frame. He closed his eyes and felt himself drifting off before being rudely jolted awake with a kick to his side.

He bit back a groan of pain before shoving your light limbs over onto your side and snuggling into your neck. Another hit to his side disturbed his attempt at falling asleep. But you were still blissfully asleep, unaware of your sleeping jabs. 

Luke did his best to ignore your kicks and just assumed that you were having nightmares too. With that thought he kissed your head again and pulled you into him. But his mind wouldn’t let him go back to sleep. Vigilant of your sleepy assaults, Luke stayed awake and stared at the bottom of the bunk above, focusing on your breathing. 

Your heavy breathing reminded him that you were still alive, that you both were still alive. Usually he lets you sleep and waits until the morning to talk about the nightmares but something about this one disturbed him. Your chest moved up and down, inhaling and exhaling, inhaling and exhaling, inhaling and exhaling and then exhaling again. 

Wait, what?

Luke sat up and looked at your rising and falling chest. A sleepy, “ow” drew his eyes to your face. You were still knocked out as if you were Hypnos himself. A sharp punch into his side startled him. Luke lifted the sheets up quickly and let out a surprised, “oh” when another pair of eyes stared back at him. 

“Who are you?” the quiet voice asked him groggily.

“Oh, uh I’m sorry I think I wandered into the wrong bed by mistake.” Luke said. It wasn’t like your relationship was a secret but it was private. And he had to think of a fast explanation for the seven year old currently occupying your bed. 

The little girl sat up and rubbed her eyes, “Why are you here?”

“Uhm…”

You started stirring awake and lifted your arm to crack your knuckles and elbow. Slowly opening your eyes, you stroked your little sister’s hair before Luke’s red face caught your attention. Even in the darkness of the night you could tell how embarrassed he was by the sheer heat his body was radiating, preparing his body for a fight or flight scenario. 

“Baby?” You croak, voice deep with sleep. “What are you doing here?”

Luke smiles sheepishly and pats your sister’s head. “Just uh, wanted to make sure that you guys were sleeping well.” He shoots an awkward glance at the seven year old sitting on your leg. “Sorry for waking you guys up.”

It hits you slowly that there’s only one reason as to why he’s sneaked into your bed in the middle of the night. And no, it wasn’t to do any nefarious activities. “Oh,” you whisper. “I’m sorry, uhm…this is Lacy, she’s my little sister. She was a little homesick so I let her sleep with me.”

Luke smiles genuinely, you’re always there for your younger siblings, taking on a parental role for the young ones who miss home or have never felt that kind of love. He looks down at your sister and pats her shoulder, “You’re lucky to have Y/N as a sibling, Lacy.”

Now fully awake, Lacy gives him a toothless smile. “I know.” She says sweetly and lays back down to snuggle into your embrace. 

“I’ll uh, I’ll head back.” Luke says.

You shake your head, “I’m sorry Luke, we can make some space.” You pick up Lacy easily and move her to the wall. It was no wonder why your leg felt so light to Luke. Lacy was so small and looked five rather than seven.

“No no, it’s fine.” He looked at the small single bed that held the three of you, “Three’s a crowd, I didn’t know that I’d be an unexpected plus one.” 

“Are you sure?” You ask. You’d hate to leave him alone especially after he just had a nightmare. “It’s no problem at all.”

Luke shakes his head, “Nah don’t worry about it. We’ll talk more in the morning.” He gingerly kisses your lips and Lacy squirms and shies away from you two. “Sleep well you two.”

[daycourtofficial]

Worms, worms, worms!

Pairing: Modern!Eris x Rhysand’s sister!reader | WC: 1.2k | warnings: none

Summary: Eris's son Atlas is finally asking the important questions about life and how far his dad’s love extends

Author’s note: and that’s a wrap on @erisweekofficial for me!!! Had to end it with this idea from @pit-and-the-pen. I had a lot of fun. I posted 32.7k worth of words about this ginger man who won’t leave me alone (and probably have 10k worth of words sitting in my drafts that I didn’t finish).

It had been raining for three days in Autumn. Eris woke up to a small body tackling him, giggles filling his ears as a tiny but loud voice screamed in his ear, “worms!”

Eris quickly clamped a hand over the toddler’s mouth, looking over to find his mate still snoring lightly. He looked back at his son, hand still clamped to his mouth but he felt the grin beneath it.

“Let me get dressed and I’ll find you in your room.”

That was not a suitable answer for Atlas, who was currently in a phase where being away from either of his parents was considered cruel and unusual punishment. His little lip wobbled, tears quickly springing to his eyes before Eris realized his error.

“You can stay as I dress if you are quiet and do not disturb your mother.”

His whispered words were stern, but Atlas nodded and Eris removed his hand from the toddler’s mouth. He walked backwards, watching Atlas cuddle up in his spot on the bed, his little body wanting to cuddle up to his mother.

Unfortunately for Atlas, you had spent the night throwing up, and in a hormonal fit banned Eris from the bathroom. He couldn’t decide what was worse - comforting you while having to watch you vomit or having to listen to you throw up in the comfort of his bed.

The two of you were still trying to figure out when to tell Atlas his reign as the youngest Vanserra was coming to an end, but there was still time before you began showing. You hardly showed at all while pregnant with Atlas - maybe Eris would be lucky and not have to tell Atlas until the babe arrived and then his son would be so enamored with the thing he wouldn’t have time to be upset. Atlas loved his cousin, Nyx, but there was no telling how he’d respond to another child around permanently.

Eris pushed away his doubts and scooped Atlas into his arms. He carried him through the door and down the hall back into Atlas’s room before setting him down on his bed. The miniature version of himself looked up at him, a tiny furrow in his brow.

“Worms are outside, Dada.”

“Yes, but if you want to find worms, you have to dress for worms, not wear your pajamas.”

Eris moved through the drawers, finding clothes for Atlas to wear, as well as his raincoat and mud boots. It took several minutes of wrangling and holding him down to get his son dressed, but he looked adorable in the bright yellow raincoat. The hood of it even had tiny eyes and a bill sewn into it, courtesy of his Aunt Elain. 

The day Atlas grew out of loving ducks would be a very sad day for Prythian. 

The two walked down the hall, or at least they attempted to. Atlas’s boots made him waddle ever so slightly when he got too fast, which was very often as they got closer and closer to being outside. They went to the back of the house, Atlas’s boots squelching with each step in the wet ground. Beyond the house, just before the trees, was a clearing that Atlas has figured out is the perfect spot to go hunting for worms. The land was full of mud - occasional hoof marks and carriage tracks, but the air smelled of fresh rain and dirt.

Eris turned his head just in time to hear a plop as he watched Atlas sit in the largest puddle he could find, sticking his tiny fingers into the mud, squishing the mud in his fist as he giggled in happiness. Eris hiked up his pants before crouching down next Atlas, balancing on his heels as he helped Atlas dig in the dirt. A short silence overtook the pair interrupted only by a soft squeal and wet dirt being flung into the air, thankfully in the direction away from Eris. 

“Atlas.” Eris’s voice was stern, a sheepish look on his son’s face. “We’ve talked about this.”

“No throwing dirt.”

Atlas was an easily excited child. He loved all things in nature and oftentimes was not wholly aware of his surroundings, leading to several people having what is now commonly known as ‘Atlas dirt incidents’. Whenever they would complain to Eris, he would look down his nose at them and ask, “why were you standing so close to a boy playing in the mud?”

Eris continued helping Atlas dig through the mud, his soft squeals of excitement reminding him of Clover’s new litter of pups that happened to coincide with this newest babe. The pup will be six months older than this new addition, plenty of time for Eris to train them a good bit. 

Atlas’s own dog, Pumpkin, had remained inside - usually as rambunctious as Atlas, it was a funny sight how the rain caused him to cease all interest in expending any energy. He was likely sprawled across Atlas’s bed, the wetness in the air outside keeping him asleep.

Atlas's small hand had formed a fist in the mud, the ends of a few worms wriggling, attempting to escape his clutches. Eris lightly grabbed his son’s hand, trying to get him to relax his grasp. He often got so excited over the worms he found, he would inadvertently squeeze them to death. The tears that formed from that seemed to last for a week, his son’s voice trembling as he asked over and over again if he was getting banished to Illyria for being a worm slayer.

It would be funny if Eris didn’t have to be the one consoling Atlas.

“You love me, right Dada?”

“More than you know.”

Eris held onto a few of the worms so his son could look at each worm individually. As if he were inspecting them, his eyes assessed each worm with intense focus, before he would proudly proclaim the worm’s name. Last time they did this, Atlas named seven worms - three were named Pumpkin, two were named Mama, and two were named Dada. Despite his many talents, Atlas wasn’t very creative with worm names.

“What if I was a worm?”

It’s on the tip of his tongue, the resolute what a silly question, why would you be a worm? But Atlas’s big eyes looked up at him, dulling his sharp tongue. He kept Atlas’s gaze, trying to soften his own and smiled.

“Very much.”

Atlas would tell you later on about this and you would spend all week teasing Eris by asking, “would you love me if I were a tea kettle?” and “what if I were a cow, hmm?” You would tease, despite the fact that Eris was sure you had asked him your own fair share of silly questions. 

That’s okay. He’d take the teasing. He’d carry you and Atlas around in his pockets, providing fresh dirt every day if he had to. He’d do anything to make the two of you happy, including indulging his toddler’s questions about life as a worm.

He would love a worm if it would spare his son a moment of heartache.

Divider by @tsunami-of-tears

Permanent taglist: @vanilla-seabass @cyrygher @lees-chaotic-brain @topaz125 @chessebookgirl @fides25 @lady-of-tearshed @ashbatz @fxckmiup @lilah-asteria @justvibbinghere @daughterofthemoons-stuff @mybestfriendmademe @heartless-tate @tsunami-of-tears @idrkwhatthisisimsorry @olive-main @azrielsmate3 @pit-and-the-pen @durgenyx @dee-writes-smut @chairofchaos @thelov3lybookworm @berryzxx @throneofsmut @kennedy-brooke @prythianpages @itsswritten @acotarxreader @milswrites @the-golden-jhope @hannzoaks @secretlyhers @tothestarsandwhateverend @sarawritestories @chxosangxl

Eris taglist: @magicstrengthandcourage @book-obsessed124

Thanks for reading❣️

[shogunish]

𝗽𝗼𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗲.

pairing. true form! sukuna x f! reader

genre. some sort of romance (?)

contents. set in the heian period, true form sukuna, reader is a concubine, after sex + casual nudity, creampie, violence, blood, mediocre poetry that i wrote myself

summary. sukuna who neither loves nor hates anyone, finds himself attracted to the poetry you write so elegantly.

words. 2.4k

note. based on this random sukuna thought i had.

comments and reblogs are greatly appreciated! <3

you had no other choice but to bang your fist against wooden gates in the pouring rain, mud staining your once white robes and strands of hair sticking to your face like a second skin.

"please, let me in!"

what else were you supposed to do when a swarm of curses suddenly terrorized your village, eating your parents' flesh alive and feasting on their corpses once they had died of shock? you had barely made it out of your home, throwing stones at the winged cursed spirits in hopes of gaining some sort of distance, an advantage.

"i'll do anything! i swear!"

you banged your fist harder until splinters pierced your skin and jumped off the wood. but the pain of it wasn't greater than the anguish of losing your loved ones, your home – a place you could no longer return to, a graveyard for the living.

tears of despair ran down your cheeks and you sobbed. wings flapped in the distance. you didn't need to turn around to know that those cursed spirits had caught up to you in the matter of a few minutes. horror crawled up your spine, slinging itself around your neck like the burn of a noose.

"please! i'm begging!"

your heart had already given up when you sunk to your knees, your mind made peace with the fact that this was it. but before you even knew what happened, someone grabbed the collar of your robes, dragged you inside and tossed your body into a puddle of mud like..like you were nothing.

"huh..?" sitting on your knees, your head shot up and your eyes widened once they caught sight of your savior and downfall.

he looked like a beast. four arms and two faces with pink hair slicked back amd an aura that nearly suffocated you. a pair of his arms was crossed over his chest, red eyes glared at you, stared right through the essence of your soul.

ryomen sukuna.

your grandparents always told you stories about him, but you never believed that anyone, or rather anything, like that could exist. nothing but a scary fairytale meant to teach children not to misuse jujutsu or else he'd eat them in their sleep. but he was real. silently, you wished you had listened to grandma and grandpa.

sukuna didn't ask for it, but your trembling body was on autopilot when you lowered your forehead to the wet ground and squeezed your eyes shut.

"do you have any idea how loud you are?" his voice was deep, obviously annoyed by your obnoxious begs and pleads to let you in, to grant you shelter from a horde of lousy cursed spirits.

you dug your fingernails into the ground. "m-my apologies.." your voice died in your throat, hoarse from screaming and begging and trembling out of pure fear. "my village..it got slaughtered and i..i just.."

"did I ask for any of your excuses?" sukuna couldn't care less about your sob story you tried serving him in an attempt to keep your life.

you were about to apologize again when clawed hands grabbed your cheeks, jerked your head upwards and forced you to look at sukuna who appeared to be bored out of his mind. wide-eyed, you stared at him with mud, tears and blood on your face. truly disgusting did you look.

"you said you'd do anything?" sukuna questioned as he regarded your fear-stricken face that looked like it was about to cry again when you dumbly nodded your head.

despite that, he had to admit that your skin seemed well taken care of and the fabric of your robes was neither too shabby nor too expensive. you were neither a farmer nor a noble, but something..in-between.

you reminded him of a poem he once read.

"the ugly little duck that many would have slaughtered

grew into a beautiful swan with grace unknown and beauty unmatched."

a silly swing of mood was all it took for sukuna to change his mind. originally, he wanted to spill the blood of the person who disturbed his rest, but he decided to give you chance to grow into something beautiful, something even someone like him could admire like the poetry he liked to read.

"you'd make a fine concubine." a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

was this..it?

you'd get to keep your life in exchange for pleasuring a mass murderer? you cringed at the thought and had half the mind to say that you'd rather be fed to the wolves than existing for a man's pleasure, but then..the images of your killed loved ones flashed before your eyes.

saying those words out loud would result in a painful, slow death. those cursed spirits would tear the flesh off your bones until you'd die of shock or blood loss.

you yielded. you did say you'd do anything.

"yes..i shall be your concubine as a sign of my gratitude."

those words sealed your fate.

sukuna called for someone named uraume, an androgynous-looking person clothed in monk robes and they took you inside where you were not only granted a bath but also a fresh pair of robes. they said they'd show you around the coming morning, that you would be to sleep in a room with the other concubines and that you had nothing to do but satisfy sukuna's sexual desires.

if you were to disobey, you would die.

just what had you gotten yourself into?

.

.

sukuna liked to believe that he didn't care about anyone. people, humans, were nothing but the dirt underneath his feet. maybe even the ants he'd squish if they were lucky enough. but even a curse such as himself found himself drawn to one of the arts humans gave birth to.

it was poetry.

those words would likely never reach sukuna's soul, but he liked the art of putting words together, to think about their meaning. after all, writing was the same as laying your soul bare – similar to showing your nude body to strangers like one of his many concubines.

in full bloom were the cherry blossoms, plum and vibrant. a spring breeze blew by and the engawa creaked underneath sukuna's bare feet. the pond's surface was disturbed by the occasional koi fish getting a little too close to the sun, the water rippled silently before coming to flawless stillness once more.

one more step and a glance towards the ground – what was this? sukuna bent down, picked up a piece of paper and upon turning it around, he was met with fine, onyx brush strokes and a neat handwriting. it was poetry.

sukuna shouldn't be as interested as he was, but maybe it was the good mood he had which allowed him to indulge himself in such silly thing.

"dreams are like bubbles.

fragile and transient, one touch and they cease to exist.

so why is it that i keep blowing bubbles,

hoping that the wind will be more gentle with them than my own fingertips?"

.

.

"if pain is time, then this must be eternity."

.

.

"his claws, so sharp and lethal and drenched in his arrogance's blood, almost feel as gentle as the breeze ringing in the spring."

and when sukuna raised his gaze, wanting to find a trace of the person who wrote these lines with such anguish, ruby irises found your form sitting underneath a tree. a little book was in your hands, black ink on the tips of your fingers as you dragged the brush across the paper. a faraway look in your eyes and glossy lips parted ever so slightly as you wrote down word for word.

who would've thought that a mere concubine, a woman whose purpose was to please sukuna in any way possible, was capable of creating such beauty? of executing such etiquette and carrying the brush with the sorrows of days gone by.

what else was going on in your mind, in that little soul of yours?

"sukuna. is everything alright?" uraume asked as they emerged from a sliding door. they had just come back from aiding the maids with a task that they needed help with and upon coming back, uraume immediately noticed the foreign expression on sukuna's face.

was this..awe..curiosity..or something entirely different? they couldn't tell.

sukuna crumpled the piece of paper in his fist. "yeah. no need to worry." he reassured his subordinate, but..those words were directed to himself as well.

.

.

.

soon after, sukuna requested you more often and kept you by his side for a little while before you'd pick up your kimono from the ground to go back to your own chambers to wash the sin off your body.

candles lit up sukuna's chamber, dipping the walls in hues of orange and yellow as the flame flickered. paintings as well as weapons made for war decorated the space – tools which still scared you, because what could a being such as sukuna do with these weapons? he could likely do worse than just murder you, you thought.

a sheen of sweat coated your nude body. your breasts rose and fell with each deep breath you took and sukuna's marks littered your skin. his bites on your neck, fingerprints on your thighs and the marks of his claws on your hips which were partly bloody. semen leaking from your entrance, you shivered.

"may i assume you're satisfied for the night, sukuna?" you looked up at him through your lashes, eyes still hazy from your orgasm.

sukuna's lower arm was wrapped around your shoulder and pulled you into his side. it was the most gentle touch you had ever received from him.

he hummed as if he was in thought. "..not quite."

immediately, you squirmed into a more upright position, eyes wide and shimmering even in the dim light. "i promise i can do better! if you let me just–" deft fingers attempted to raise the blanket from sukuna's lower half, but he stopped you, shaking his head.

"no, not that. rather.." he trailed off, watching the confusion grow in your eyes. "..i desire to know whether it's you who's lost a page of poetry?" sukuna's voice was deep, smooth like velvet, yet as dark as the abyss in his pupils. "the other concubines wouldn't even know how to write poetry, so..the only one left is you, [name]."

heat rose to your face. ashamed, you raise the blanket up to your collarbone as if it could hide the words sukuna had found. "..how did you..?"

"i found it when i stepped on it." sukuna was gentle when he cupped your chin with his clawed fingers and made you look at him. "consider me impressed."

surprise was written all over your face, lips parted, eyes wide and all that. you swore your heart was beating in your throat. did sukuna, the king of curses, just praise you?

he never praised anyone.

"..pardon..?" you breathed out. was this some kind of dream? a lucid dream? or maybe you were put under a spell? whichever it was..it felt pleasant.

"i'm not going to repeat myself." sukuna brushed a few strands of hair out of your face, tucking the strand behind your ear. "but i am going to keep you by my side. it appears that you're good for more than meets the eye."

that night, sukuna handed you a brush, ink and a piece of paper. he kept you by his side the entire night, wanting to hear the words you put to paper until you had fallen asleep with your head on his shoulder and his marks on your skin.

.

.

.

people said that love came all different shapes and forms: platonic love, familial love, erotic love, the love one held towards a pet and so on. if one were to ask sukuna what sort of affections he held towards you when you sat by his side, filling pages of poetry for him to read, he likely would remain silent.

because as arrogant as he was as the king of curses, as much as he didn't care about anyone but himself, he could not deny the fact that, in your company, he found peace amidst the violence that he caused himself.

sukuna liked the way you sat next to him with no fear, gentle eyes focused on that little notebook and a brush in your hand. silently would you sit next to the catastrophe that was sukuna, pouring your feelings onto paper that would one day fade and crumble like leaves in the wind. yes, even your tranquil self would one day fade into nothing like the ink on your papers.

"will you miss me when it's my turn to go?" you asked without looking at sukuna. a few cherry blossoms petals got tangled in your hair.

sukuna was gentle when he used one of his hands to pick the petal out of your hair. he should've said no without hesitating so long, because despite your appearance, you were awfully perceptive – that much sukuna had learned.

a smile graced your lips. seated next to sukuna on the engawa had become your favorite pastime even though he would use your body later on with no regard for your aching limbs.

"what? am I dear to you?" you teased the king of curses. within the last few months, you had become attuned to each other without meaning to.

"..if it is possible for a curse to love."

a sigh slipped sukuna's lips. he begrudgingly entertained your thoughts. "it seems that my treatment towards you has got to your head, [name]."

at that, you giggle into your notebook, eyes closed and the apples of your cheeks tinting a hue of red. "maybe a little bit. i was merely wondering if.."

sukuna was certain that he didn't love you, but rather the words you wrote. they flowed like water, written with grace unknown and beauty unmatched. each syllable was either fragile like a petal or sturdy like a warrior on horseback. it was funny how your poetry was a reflection of yourself.

when you sat next to sukuna, you were tender but when he'd order you into his chamber, you'd take and obey his orders like a samurai with nothing but moans on your lips.

"my affection has nothing to do with you." sukuna said after a pause.

"how sad." you mused, putting your brush down. "a being who has been living for so long and never experienced any sort of love. it must be lonely."

that day when you pressed a kiss to sukuna's cheek like a lover would, he wondered…if maybe you were attached to him instead.

[eightmakesonebraincell]

dogboy!yuyu headcanons

genre: bf!yunho x gn!reader, fluffiest fluffy fluff, crack

length: 1.8k

a/n: this spontaneously wrote itself after reading bai’s (@hwaightme) catboy!hwa headcanons, dreaming about dogboy!yuyu, and then being triggered by the braincell i share with yumi (@sorryimananti-romantic) <3 also scroll through to the end for a surprise 🐹

taglist: @lavishloving

YUYU :’((((

the cutest fluffiest ball of energy to ever light up your world <33

your heart just goes :’) whenever you see him, no matter what he’s doing

PUPPY EYES

THE MOST. LETHAL. PUPPY. EYES. EVER.

at first he doesn’t know how dangerous his puppy eyes are

he’s scared of doing the wrong thing or disobeying your orders because he thinks you might not want him anymore or kick him out :(((

he’s so precious he deserves to be protected from every bad thing in the world :((

but then once he learns that you love him more than he can even fathom

and he can literally get away with anything??

especially if he just whips out his puppy eyes and cocks his head to one side??

PLEASE

yunho is 🥺 emoji personified

he stamps his little paws in excitement when you approach him

loves it when you caress the space between his eyes he gets all sleepy 

EAR SCRATCHES

he loves when you scratch behind his ear or under his chin or on his belly

aka scratches anywhere.

and he has the fluffiest and floppiest ears ever <333

they flop up and down whenever he runs it’s so cute omg

and he loves to chase his own tail

he MUST win the battle with himself grr

he doesn’t realise how big he is, both as a pupper AND a human

he runs at you from a distance and attacks you in a hug 🥺

but when he’s really excited and leaps up into your arms it feels like you’re getting slammed by a moving brick wall

you both definitely go down with an oof (mainly from you)

but who can be annoyed when you look up and he’s all :D :D :D and wagging tails on top of you

you two play a lot because he has so much energy

like you throw treats up in the air and he jumps to catch them and it’s like he’s challenging you at this point

you both have this thing where you put your hand on his paw, then he moves to place his paw on top of your hand, then you place your hand on top again and you just make an endless tower of hands

it never ends. it is A COMPETITION.

yall also have barking competitions where you’re just howling at each other lolll

because of that, your neighbour sometimes asks how your dogs (plural) are going and you have to make up a second dog because you’re not about to admit that it’s actually you howling back

yunho ALWAYS gets the zoomies at the most random times

in the morning when you’ve literally just pulled yourself out of bed and half asleep?

he does zoomies around the living room

nearly trips you over

at 3am when you’ve just finished your work and you’re stumbling your way to bed

he gets the zoomies in your bedroom and jumps all over your bed

SPEAKING OF BED

his favourite place is bed

but your bed specifically

you don’t need a heater in winter because he loves loves LOVES to snuggle with you and he’s super warm and fluffy

there’s lots and lots of cuddle sessions ofc, especially when you’re feeling down

he’s always there and he’ll like, give you space at first and then slowly inch towards you :((

sometimes you get nightmares that you’re suffocating and you wake up to yunho’s dog butt sitting on your face LOL

or you’ll wake up to his tail swishing in your face because he’s dreaming about steak

he likes playing in puddles and mud a little toooo much

when it rains you dress him up in a cute little yellow duckie raincoat

you’ve tried the matching puppy gumboots too but he just shakes them off

loves to go splish splash with his paws in all the puddles he comes across

and when he walks away he leaves a trail of his paw prints <3

omg when it comes to shower time after playing?

BRAT 

a cute brat though you could never ever get angry at him

he makes you chase him through the house and you’re shrieking about the little paw prints he’s leaving on the floor

(he helps you clean them up afterwards)

when you finally wrestle him into the bathtub he huffs until you fill it with bubbles and add his toys

you most definitely have to take your own shower after his because of how soapy your clothes get

yunho LOVES his toys so much

it takes so long to convince him to let you put them in the wash

because as soon as you take them away from him? the puppy eyes come out

and you have to be firm and tell him that the toys just need a bit of cleaning, they’ll come back to you smelling super nice, it’s just for a little while

he still sits in front of the washing machine watching the whole cycle because he doesn’t trust the machine

he protecc

whenever you’re working or busy doing something, he’ll come up and nudge you every other minute so you play with him

he’ll drop a toy at your feet so you throw it for him

or he’ll tug on your pants and whine a little for your attention

you’re definitely weak for him so you almost always end up giving in

do you walk him or does he walk you?

he gets excited and darts off whenever he sees other people or other dogs because he wants to go and say hello :’))

and even though he loves meeting the other dogs, if you find another cute dog and turn your attention towards it or compliment it he’s gonna be all 🥺🥺🥺

he’s built to protect you like whenever you go out he’ll valiantly be on the lookout for any dangers like lizards that get too close or plastic bags that are flying towards you

LOL sometimes you can’t bring yunho out with you, and when you get home after bumping into another dog on the way back, yunho will immediately be able to sniff out their smell on your clothes

and he’ll be like >:((

how dare you >:((

i demand head pats and ear scratches as compensation >:((

he melts as soon as you give him a kiss though

when he’s human, literally nothing changes

he has endless energy and he literally skips and bounds along as he walks with you

the man does not. stand. still.

he will JUMP down the last four or five stairs and give you a mini heart attack

you scold him like you’re going to get hurt !!!!! but he just grins at you before running ahead again

omg he gives the most crushing and loving hugs <333

your favourite ones are when you’re running towards him and he has his arms wide open and he catches you as you leap into his arms

and he holds your waist firmly as he spins you two around and you’re both just all wide smiles and hearty giggles (PLS IM SO SOFT RN)

yunho eats like there’s no tomorrow

you cook and plate up your food and turn around to get yourself a glass of water or something and when you turn back around half his plate is already gone and he’s like :D

and you’re like ???? where ?? did all the food go?? 

when you bake you’ve got to keep a close eye on him he’s like a CHILD

he’ll steal the chocolate chips off the counter and you have to take the packet from him and tell him that you need them for the cookies

but he gets a handful of them anyway as compromise

it’s the puppy eyes i’m telling you they stay with him even when he shifts

“no, yuyu, the cookies are still hot you need to wait”

:(

“stop looking at me like that they won’t cool any faster”

:( 

when it’s bedtime he dives under the covers with you

he drapes himself over you like he does when he’s a dog except he is much heavier when he isn’t a dog and you’re lowkey struggling to breathe under him

and he’s like oh no !! i forgot !!

and he’ll lie on his back and pull you so that you lie on top of him instead :’))

doesn’t matter if he’s dog or human, he LOVES CUDDLES

sometimes he decides that he wants head scratches too and he’ll bring your hand up to his head so that you play with his soft blonde locks

he also peppers your face with kisses like non-stop

he makes it his personal goal to make you giggle and laugh from all the kisses he’s giving you

because he is all about that physical affection and touch, perhaps even more when he’s a human

when you’re home he HAS to be touching you in one way or another like he’ll have a hand on your thigh or he’s draped over you in a back hug or you’re sitting in his lap

and it’s so cute when you see the same mannerisms and habits he has as a dog when he’s human

he’ll sit there and huff at all the right times when you tell him about your long day

(which was one of the first things you picked up on that yunho wasn’t your typical dog because when you ranted to him it was like he could understand you perfectly)

and like he still has his protective instincts, except when he’s a man he is The Man 

you tell him about some colleague at work who was nasty to you and he’ll be like WHO. LET ME GO BITE THEM

he definitely growls a little when he’s really protective like grrr >:(

lol but also when you two are playing games and he’s feeling competitive or he’s gaming on the computer he’ll unintentionally growl at you and sometimes you find it kinda hot ;)

with yunho there has never been a single dull moment

his laughter and cheeky antics just become a permanent part of your life <3

he only has eyes for you and they’re filled with love

he is THE GOODEST BOY PERIODT.

bonus: hamsterboy!joong

the D: hamster backed up into a corner meme

raises his little hands when he's scared

will freeze standing up for no apparent reason

literally faints or unalives at the slightest inconvenience

like if you sneeze too loud

or if he falls off the little platform in his cage

you’ll never catch him running in the hamster wheel - that is solely for napping in

he also likes to nap in the igloo homes you put there for him

if you lift one up while he’s under it he’ll run for his life towards another shelter LOL

shoves everything into his mouth when he eats

he complains when his food bowl is empty

but if you try to take the bowl to fill it up? he tries to bite you

no take >:( only fill >:(

tries to look aggressive but he’s the smollest lil bean to exist 🥺

what makes you think he’s any different as a human?

LOL

the end

[ticklystuff]

Day 3: Cleaning

a/n: ler!itto, lee!gorou — from the lovelytickletober list!

———

"I-Itto, wait! Wahahahait!"

"No can do, pup."

Gorou wasn't sure which he found more embarrassing: the endearing nickname Itto had given him that he was still acclimating too, or the fact he could barely still through the deep-cleaning Itto was currently subjecting him to, deservedly so.

"I-I cahahahan't! Wahahaha!" Gorou squealed as Itto scrubbed the brush into the pit of his underarm thoroughly, kicking his legs uselessly in the tub, while Itto hummed an unfamiliar tune over the sound of his laughter.

It all started out with the Arataki Gang's latest ploy to make a bit of mora— set up a stall at the Inazuman farmers' market to sell beetle protein shakes to the avid fans in the beetle fighting community. What could possibly go wrong?

Well, on top of the fact that the product reeked of a combination of rotten fruit and sulfur, the Arataki Gang, in their short-sightedness, did not expect the beetle fighting community to be so.. miniscule. And the general crowd that knew nothing of beetle fighting but approached the stall anyway were immediately turned off by the thought of "beetle protein shakes" because, well.. it sounds like beetles blended into a protein shake, not a strength enhancing beverage for beetles. And as much as Itto and Gorou stood outside the stall trying to draw people in, singing the silly jingle the two wrote the night before, their attempts were in vain, netting zero profit. If anything, the stall most likely put them in the red due to the fees in place to actually have a spot in the market.

Despite this, the day had been fun! Yeah, the product idea was terrible, Gorou knew this very well when Itto had made the proposal, but spending his free time to set up the stall and support the oni in his made-to-fail ventures was worth it, if one asked the general. It was a good time.

Too bad Gorou had to go and slip in a giant puddle of mud on their way back home, not only dirtying his fur, but dropping the jars of unsold shakes all over the ground, shattering the glass and allowing the smelly concoction to seep all over the poor general, leading to Gorou's current situation.

"We're almost done, I promise," Itto giggled to himself, holding up one of Gorou's legs by the ankle, brush in hand. Just from his expression, Gorou could swear Itto was actually enjoying this.

"I-I think I'm good now," he whimpered, watching as the brush approached his foot in seemingly slow motion. "No! No, Itto! Wahahahait! PleheHEHEhease!" he wailed, throwing his head back in laughter, gripping the sides of the tub with his fingers, anything to brace the bristles running against the length of his sole.

"Alright, alright," Itto laughed to himself, gently setting down Gorou's leg and grabbing a towel from the side. With one arm, he helped to lift the exhausted general from the tub, ruffling his hair with the towel, before leaning in, his nose pressed onto the top of Gorou's head as he inhaled deeply. "Smells good."

"Thanks," Gorou grumbled to himself, letting Itto run the towel against his damp skin. "I'm not helping you sell the rest of those shakes, though. They smell awful."

"I know, I can still smell them on you," Itto mused, prompting a whine from Gorou in response, "but alright, sounds good, pup."

[anghraine]

This is probably my most "born and raised in the rural western USA" post ever, but there really is a kind of annoying white dude who shows up in the western states at times, and occasionally even comes from them, who I keep encountering. This kind of guy might not be an obvious bigot (though sometimes he is), but regardless, is one of the most irritating creatures on the face of the planet. Common traits:

goes around in full wannabe western cowboy (21st century edition) cosplay and never shuts up about the plight of the rural poor and his own history of poverty in small town rural America. he understands in a way that these city elites never will.

turns out to be from a comfortable middle-class family in Missoula. (as one example; there are lots of variants of this)

affects an obviously fake drawl in no way characteristic of the actual region he comes from to go with the cosplay.

the hat is pristine, the boots are unscuffed, the belt buckle is ... wrong, and the obligatory truck was bought new and couldn't pull a Toyota out of a mud puddle or make it up a moderately steep hill in half an inch of snow.

assumes everyone he professionally interacts with has no more experience of actual rural life and/or poverty than he does himself, especially if he's in the arts in some capacity. The poors don't care about Art, you see (sometimes stated, usually strongly implied with little comprehension that he's saying it).

relatedly, has intense food+social class opinions and appears to think that cheap food for the proletariat is, like, the Olive Garden.

throws around his red state creds while giving the distinct impression that it's been 20 years since he saw a cow.

the more liberal versions talk a lot about awareness of their privilege and positionality as white men, but don't really do anything to support marginalized colleagues. unless "picking on younger and less powerful men who haven't done anything wrong" counts.

[sunraies]

Cupcakes and Rainstorms

Rafe Cameron x Pogue!Reader

Warnings - fluff, enemies to something, kissing. Rafe has a crush.

Getting stuck on the side of the road in a rainstorm has an unexpected outcome

-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*-*

The sudden downpour came out of nowhere. The joys of summer rainstorms. One minute, the sun is shining, and then suddenly, the sky becomes dark and grey.

It was just your luck that the heavens opened while you were making a delivery to the Figure Eight. You father's beat up, bakery van was never good in the rain.

The white van with a smiling cupcake tended not have the ability to break in the rain. You begged your father to upgrade it as the business grew but he insisted it worked perfectly fine. The rusted, cupcake smiling, piece of shit.

Sure, it had memories from the days when the bakery first opened but it wasn't worth your life. You should have just biked the five dozen white cupcakes to the obnoxious white themed party.

What 14 year old held a white themed party, anyway?

You had pulled over to check the directions and got stuck in a muddy puddle, which was more like a bog with a stupid little white dress on. No way could you risk trying to push the fucking, heap of junk in the rain.

You had phoned JJ for help but had no luck and it wasn't worth trying the others. If JJ didn't pick up, the others wouldn't. Whatever shit he was getting up to, they were definitely with him. You sent an SOS message to the group, but they could take hours.

Hitting your head on the stirring wheel, you groaned in tune with the horn. Stuck between Figure Eight and The Cut with your phone battery dead. Maybe you should have called a tow truck before JJ.

With the horn blaring you didn't hear the roar of the motorcycle. It was the sharp knocking on the driver window that caught your attention.

"Holy shit!" You yelled, jumping and holding a hand over your heart.

Stood outside your window in the pouring rain, white shirt soaked through was Rafe Cameron.

"What the hell, are you doing?" You rolled down the window as he frowned at you.

"Oh, that's a shame. I thought I found a dead Pogue"

You could have sworn he looked concerned for a moment before realising it was you.

"Sorry to ruin your fantasy" you grumbled, ready to roll the window up on him but his hand stopped you.

"It's pissing it down," He pointed out, like you couldn't tell.

"And?"

"Let me sit for a bit"

You raised an eyebrow at him, watching the rain drip from his hair as the fabric of his shirt, which made it more and more see-through. He noticed you looking, and a small smirk appeared.

"Come on, my bike is laying in the mud, and this shirt is expensive."

You glanced in the mirror, noticing the motor bike thrown down in the bog like puddle. Had he really been that concerned?

"Fine, but you're phoning for a tow truck." He was already running round to the passenger side.

He made a shivering noise as he slammed the passenger door shut and shook himself. "You didn't call a truck?"

"Dead battery" you held up, your battered and broken phone.

It had a cracked screen and worn-out case, but you loved it. The lock screen was of the gang on the beach, and tucked in the back was a post-it with a doodle from Kie.

It was your father's stupid cupcake, smoking a joint, and the knife stabbed into the icing.

"So we're stuck." Rafe tried not to smile at the doodle as you throw your phone upside down on the dashboard.

"We?" You looked over at him.

Taking in his appearance more. He really did have a body like a Greek god, clearly visible with his shirt clinging to his toned torso. He had a face like an angel when he wasn't scowling.

"Don't have my phone on me, sweetheart" He shrugged, patting his pockets to prove a point.

You stared at him, dumbfounded.

"Who the fuck, doesn't have their phone on them?"

"Didn't think I needed it"

After some silence and the annoyance of him huffing while playing with random things in the van. You snapped,

"Would you stop that?"

"Stop what?"

"Breathing so hard"

"I'm just breathing"

"Well, stop"

"I'm sure you and your little friends would love that"

"I wouldn't be complaining"

"Wow. Ouch" He scoffed, folding his arms over his chest. "Didn't know you could be so heartless"

"Guess we don't know a lot about each other"

"I do" He muttered, so quitely that you barely caught it.

"Oh really? Let's see what the Kook King, thinks of a Pogue 'peasant' like me"

The rain was still hammering down on the windscreen and making a tinny sound as it bounced of the roof of the van.

He scoffed at you again. "I wouldn't say peasant. What with your father's business and all"

You rolled your eyes. Of course, he wouldn't reject the idea of being called Kook King.

Your father's bakery had become so popular in Outerbanks that custom had even spread the main land. He had more than enough to move, upgrade, and even buy a house in the Figure Eight, but he didn't want the change. Everything he was gaining was going into a collage fund for you and your future.

"Thanks, I guess"

Uncomfortable silence fell again as the rain didn't ease.

"Why did you stop?"

"Stop what?" He asked again.

"At the van"

He shrugged "I knew it was your father's"

Rafe didn't look at you as he quickly added at the same time as you, before you even asked why.

"Fucking smiling cupcake"

You actually laughed at the timing. Little did you know, he hated the cupcake as every time he saw it around, he hoped it was you driving.

In the cute polo shirt with the cupcake logo and shorts that hugged your butt. The baseball cap with the same logo, worn backwards and your white, now grey, scuffed up converse.

You bounced around, smiling and wishing good day to people as you delivered the elite of the island. Music blaring out of the rust bucket or taping away on your phone, nodding as you picked the next track before hopping on your bike.

The first time he saw you around was about a year ago. Sure, he'd seen you with the Pogues, but he really noticed you when you had come to Tanneyhill.

It wasn't even an actual delivery. You had been popping by to pick Sarah up for John B bringing a small box of baked goods with you. Wheeze actually hugged you when she saw you at the door. She loved the cupcakes.

"You scared me, you know?" He played with the ring on his finger.

"How?"

"When I saw the van, and the horn. I thought

...." he sighed as you watched him. He looked so vulnerable as he swallowed.

"I was dead?" You frowned, you were going to snark back about how fucking morbid that was before he shook his head and ran his hand through his hair.

"So you throw your bike in the mud? Wow, dramatic much? " You chose a lighter topic, which actually made him laugh.

🧁

"Hey, hey," you hit his hand away from the box of perfectly iced cakes. "Don't eat those!"

"We have been sat here an hour." Rafe pointed out his watch.

Your eyes went wide, shit, shit, shit. An hour. You were an hour late. An hour of money lost. An hour of no one coming to rescue you. A hour of -

"I'm sure, Wheeze won't mind"

Wheeze? What the hell, did he mean Wheeze? His baby sister.

Oh, you were going to kill, Jeremy. The dipshit had put Tawney Hall on the delivery notice. No wonder you couldn't find it. If you known you were delivering for the Camerons you would have never pulled over in the first place.

"Wheezie, wanted a white theme party?" You found that hard to believe.

"Rose wanted" He corrected as he grabbed a cupcake from the box again.

You hit his hand a moment too slow, causing the cupcake to go flying and land on his drying, white shirt. You laughed and covered your mouth.

"Oh, I'm sorry." You tried to be sincere, but the laughter didn't help.

"I told you this was expensive, baby"

He shook his head at you, he looked annoyed but there was a twinkle in his eye. God, had they always been so blue?

He dipped his finger into the icing before making you gasp as he ran it down your nose.

"Rafe, no, no" You laughed and put your hands up but was not use.

Soon, you both ended up covered in icing and crumbled cakes.

His face was so close to yours that you could feel his breath fan over your lips. You had ended up with your back against the door as Rafe fitted perfectly between your legs. His hand cupped your neck as you held his shoulder.

His eyes darted from yours to your lips and back again. He swallowed a few times as your heart beat loudly in your chest.

"Kiss me"

It was a whisper, but he caught it and took only a moment before his lips collied with yours. He tasted of vanilla icing.

You broke suddenly apart as the familiar tune of The Twinkie's horn sounded so close by.

[bentnotbroken1fanfiction]

The first time Billy Hargrove felt a thunderstorm shake Hawkins, he thought his rage must have borne it to life. 

He'd been driving toward the quarry, fresh blood on his teeth and a throb in his left eye when the skies ahead unleashed their fury. The wind picked up and the rain fell so heavily that he had to pull over because he couldn't see the road anymore. And instead of waiting out the danger in the safety of the driver's seat like a normal person…

Billy had gotten out to meet it. 

The rain had stung the wounds on his bare skin but he didn't care. No. It made him feel clean… .like the storm was washing away all his shame…all his sins. 

He screamed at the darkened sky and let his ire be known. He was done with this town. Done with his dad. Done with his pain. 

Done with this fucking life that he didn't even fucking ask for. 

He didn't ask to be born . 

So he'd screamed his grievances into the wind until his anger faded, until his body no longer shook with it. He'd screamed until his voice was raw, until the lightning stopped flashing. He's stood on the side of that sad gravel road until the rain became a drizzle and the tears no longer flowed. 

That first time he let the wet clothes cling to his body until his skin chilled and he shook with cold, because they didn't get thunderstorms like this in Cali. They didn't get storms that made him feel so…. alive .  So when that storm rolled away from him, disappearing into the distance, Billy decided that there was maybe one good thing about this shit town after all. 

Well, one thing other than Steve Harrington. 

***

Steve has never liked rain. When he was little, if he ever stepped in a puddle his mother would throw a fit about him trekking mud through the house, and when the thunder scared him in the middle of the night he'd try to find comfort in her arms, but his father put a stop to that when he was four. He'd lay awake all night hiding under his covers, under his bed, waiting for the booming to stop. 

Now, it isn't scary. He's not afraid . It just makes his house feel even more empty, the dull sky painting everything gray.  

Lonely.

Cold. 

Plus, he spends an hour on his hair. If it gets wet, it's game over. So rain is no bueno in his book.

Or it used to be. 

Until he'd seen Billy Hargrove, head thrown back and hair dripping in the middle of a downpour, laughing and screaming into the rain.

And look, he'd never given boys much of a thought before…but when he saw Billy…clothes clinging to his body and rain droplets running down his throat….it did something in him. 

Did something to him. 

He felt …moved . Or some shit.

Like it felt…poetic in a way…made Steve want to stick around. To see what may happen. 

But he didn't approach him. He never could bring himself too. He couldn't handle the weird feeling inside of him, so he just watched silently from the safety of his car as the thunder boomed as loud as his heartbeat, drowning out the sound of Billy's captivating insanity. 

***

Billy isn't sure when someone joined in on his little trips. One day, he just realized that he was being followed. And what had started out as anger and irritation at being watched in such a vulnerable moment had ended up becoming somewhat of a game to him once he'd figured out who his shadow was. 

Because it was the King of Hawkins High himself. 

Steve fucking Harrington. 

And it's not like Harrington was being subtle either. Billy would always spot his beamer slowing down, or if he ended up in the junkyard, he'd always hear a car's tires crackling on gravel not far away. 

He could feel those brown eyes on his face, following his movements as he paced back and forth in front of the Camaro, or when he'd take a bat to some beat up rust buckets. He just knew he was watching him closely and he wouldn't leave until Billy did. 

But since Harrington never bothered to get out or approach him, he just let it slide. Who cared if the other boy saw his deranged little act? If he told anyone, it would just give Billy more of a reputation as being someone these country bumpkins shouldn't fuck with. 

So, he let him watch. He let him see and hear the fury that lived inside him. And if he cried, how would Harrington even know ? It was fucking raining . 

Then winter came and he didn't see hide nor hair of the other boy. He may catch a look or two in the hall, but that was it. He wouldn't turn a corner and see the beamer waiting for him. He'd been so used to seeing him that it was almost…strange to not have him in his rearview mirror. 

By New Years Day he realized he kind of misses his little stalker.  So when the cold left and spring showers replaced the chill of February, Billy finally decided to do something about it. 

Because he needs to know why. Why Harrington is following him around whenever it rains? What he is even getting out of it. Because when Billy is looking that closely at someone….it's because he likes them. He's interested in them. In the Biblical way. 

Which is 100% good with Billy. 

In fact, If Harrington is anything like him, then he's going to need answers pronto. No matter what. Because he hasn't found anyone else like him in this town. He can't let this chance slip away. 

So, when he finally sees the beamer pull up just down the lane from where he's currently kicking rocks, he decides to make his move. 

***

Steve was surprised that Billy never approached him. He had to know that he was there. The guy wasn't dumb. But he never said anything, so maybe he doesn't care.

Maybe he is fine with Steven following him. 

So he just keeps doing it. 

He only takes a break when it's too cold for rain and chasing him around school would be too obvious. 

But it's warm again now. And it's storming. The thunder is so loud, in fact, that he is more focused on the crashing overhead and doesn't notice that Billy has spotted him and is walking right up to his passenger side window until he knocks on it. 

And like an idiot, Steve rolls it down. "Can I help you?" He asks, voice slightly shaky. The words sound haughty but he knows he's in the wrong here. He's been caught red handed this time. 

"I don't know, Harrington, you tell me."  He replies, and Steve can see the smirk on his face as the sky lights up once more. "You're the stalker." 

Heat flares up his neck and covers his face. "I'm not…" He starts and then stops himself. The jig is up. "OK, OK. Maybe what I'm doing could be considered…stalking…maybe but I'm not…I'm not trying to be…" 

"Creepy?" Billy finishes, and Steve nods. They both just stare at each other for a few seconds before Billy wiggles the handle and sighs loudly when it doesn't budge. "Well, are you gonna let me in or not?" 

Steve should probably hesitate and think about this a little more, but he doesn't. Instead, he just unlocks it and let's Billy slide into the seat beside him. 

They are both quiet for a moment, the only sounds being the rain against the roof of the car and his heart beating in his ears. He doesn't know what to say. 'Sorry' just doesn't seem sincere, because he's not sorry.  

He is simply curious. 

He just wants to know why Billy is always out here, letting himself drown in the rain. What can he possibly get out of it? It can't feel nice. Right? 

"So, you gonna tell me why you’re fucking following me or-?" 

Steve groans and runs a hand down his face. "Fuck. I don't…I don't know man. I just got…curious or whatever. I kept seeing you out at the quarry and I just…I couldn't stop watching you." 

"Sounds like you got the hots for me." 

Again his whole body heats up because…"What?! Nuh- no, what the fuck ?" 

Billy laughs and it sounds pretty nice to be honest. "It's fine, Harrington. I don't particularly mind." 

Well, that's… unexpected.

It's quiet again so he finally takes the time to actually look over at him and now that he's this close, he can see the fresh blood on Billy's lip. He can see the discoloration around his left eye. Things start coming together in his brain. This isn't the first time 

"You're bleeding." 

He pulls out a cigarette and cringes when he sees that the pack is wet. "No, shit." 

Steve pulls one out of his own pack and hands it to him. "You get in a lot of fights?" 

Billy shrugs and lights it up, taking a big hit before looking out the window. 

It makes Steve uncomfortable. Like he's stumbling onto something he shouldn't…but he can't stop himself from asking. "Why do you scream when it rains, Billy?" 

The blonde takes two more drags of his cigarette before replying, "You really wanna know?" Steve can only nod. "It's the only time I can cry without repercussions and no body cares how loud or angry I am." 

Steve thinks about that for a second. He could literally scream himself to death at home and not bother a soul. There wasn't anyone at home to bother. But obviously this isn't the case for Billy. 

"I'm sorry," he says, and he means it. 

Again Billy shrugs. "It's not a big deal. So I piss my old man off sometimes. It doesn't matter." 

Before he can think better of it he blurts out, "Yes, it does. No one should hit their kid." 

Suddenly the door is open and Billy is escaping out onto the rain.

He has no choice but to follow him. "Wait! Stop!" 

Billy whirls around, lightning crashing behind him. His eyes are angry, and Steve thinks he hasn't seen anything more beautiful. "Fuck you! I didn't fucking say that-" 

Steve steps forward, unphased by Billy's anger. He can handle it. At least it's an emotion directed at him.  "You didn't have to, but it doesn't matter." He tells him, speaking slowly, palms up, rain dripping down his face. "I can read between the lines just fine. And I won't say anything. Just like how I never said anything about, " he fans his arms out, motioning to everything, " this ."

But Billy looks skeptical. "Harrington." 

"I can help." He insists because this is something even someone like him can do. "Or like…let me stand here by you. You don't have to do all of it alone."  

The rain slows to a drizzle and he can clearly see a tiny sliver of hope flash across Billy's face. "Are you sure you can handle me? You've seen what I do out here." 

Steve takes another step forward and this time Billy doesn't move away. "I don't think I'll have a problem with that." 

A smirk from that mouth and a chuckle make Steve melt. "Well, alright then, pretty boy. Let's see what you can do." 

[itsabouttimex2]

Hi! I dunno if this has been requested already but could we please get a platonic Yandere Azure Lion and MK? I can’t really think of a plot except for maybe Azure taking MK away so he can be “safe”.

Indigo Ephialtes

“Have you never had a nightmare before, cub?”

There’s concern and curiosity in that voice, both in multitudes. Each word drips with worry, paired with a powerful stroking up and down MK’s back.

The teen can’t bring himself to respond, of course. He’s too much too busy wiping away tears and trying to forget about the grim visions that have endlessly plagued his mind for the last month. Every night brings a new twisted scene, one that leaves MK shaking and sweating, fighting back tears while staring at the ceiling and praying for it to collapse across his quivering form.

He never use to have nightmares.

Not unless sickness had settled beneath the skin and plagued him with virulence. It was only when MK had to sit and stew that his brain was allowed to run wild with nauseating thoughts and putrid fears, chilling his skin worse than any cold ever could.

He’d wake up thrashing- throwing punches and picks to shadow-box enemies that existed only in the hazy corners of his worn eyes. And in every ‘fight’, he was to lose. MK would collapse to the floor in short order, sobbing into hands that he had beaten bloody against the headboard of his bed.

Those were the nightmares he grimly dreamt.

Back when Mei was a call away and would spend the whole night talking him back to calmness. When Pigsy would trudge upstairs with a fresh bowl of noodles and a handful of bandages. When Mr. Tang would soothe him back to sleep with an old story.

But his family isn’t here right now, are they?

“-ub. Cub. Cub, are you- MK!”

The teen snaps from his daydreams, ripped from the pleasant and warm thoughts of his family and the tenderness they provided.

“MK, my little cub, I’ve been talking to you for a while now. Were you… simply not listening?”

Disapproval in some small measure, negative ideations blooming in Azure’s ever-delusional mind.

The mere idea that his ‘cub’ might to some small degree reject even a mote of his fatherly love has started a snowball effect before. One little negative thing builds to a crafted tower, then the leonine beast topples it with his own inability to see truth and reason.

And then MK spends the rest of the day ‘grounded’, locked up tight in his room and cut from the few possessions that his unwanted caretaker saw fit to garnish the room with.

“No,” he chokes out, the lie thick and clumsy on his tongue. Azure raises an eyebrow, considering but not quite convinced. So then the boy sees fit to grinds out the one word he’s come to hate more than any other: “Papa.”

That is something that the lion takes at face value, every last time he hears it. Pulling it from MK’s mouth is harder than pulling teeth, so he cherished every moment that those two syllables left the boy’s lips.

“Of course not,” he coos, stroking the teen’s hair. It’s unsettling, how sharply the cyan creature changes his mood. But he’s in a better one now, all for a single word he longs to hear again and again and again. “You’re a good cub, hmm? You would never ignore me simply for the sake of it, would you?”

“No,” the teen lies again.

“You’re a much better cub than that,” the lion agrees, leaning down to nuzzle MK’s cheek, “and you’re too polite and sweet to lie to your papa.”

Already, the miasma of pervading delusion settles deep, reinforcing Azure’s beliefs.

MK is his perfect little cub. He’s the only one who can keep the boy safe.

“Now, cub… let’s talk about your nightmare, hmm?

His friends, face-down in puddles of mud. His family, ripped limb from limb and left to rot. Fertile dirt stained to speckled cinnabar.

“…just saw s-something…”

Messed up is what he wants to say. But the lion responds far better to MK playing along with the ‘helpless child’ act. So he finishes with a delayed “scary” instead, leaving Azure to sympathetically coo and bring the boy into his powerful arms.

MK wants to hate this. So badly, he wishes that the hug was painfully tight, or that Azure’s blue fur was rough to the touch. Any reason to hate it, to hate the comfort and warmth sinking deep into his skin from the cuddle.

But he can’t. There’s not even one thing wrong with it. The lion is well-versed in skinship and closeness, and is especially gentle with those he cherishes.

MK wishes this felt worse. He wants Azure to be awful and monstrous and demonic- it’d be easier to hate him. He wants to hate the Celestial rebel with all the heart he can muster.

But it’s getting harder and harder with each week in captivity. The leonine revolutionary is gentle, is kind, is genuine.

And with nothing he can do to slip free, MK gives himself to tears once more, allowing the throes of agony from his blood-seeped dream to break him down entirely.

After all, he knows that Azure will provide unconditional comfort and protection.

Whether he wants it or not.

(Was super hyped to get this request, ngl!)

[layraket]

Flufftober Day 8- Rainy Day

Collab with @breannasfluff ! go check her part and reblog!

Grabbing Hyrule’s hand, Wild yanks him along as they run through the rain-slicked grass. They share a glance and a grin before jumping into one of the larger puddles together. Water splashes and, joined by the rain, for an instant it’s nothing but warm liquid and the sound of laughter. Then Hyrule slips on the mud under the water and, still holding onto Wild, goes down. The champion is yanked after him, landing fully in the puddle. He yanks himself up and shakes, sending wet hair flying. Then he glances at Hyrule. The traveler took the brunt of the puddle on his face, along with a fair bit of mud. Wild snorts, then breaks into peals of laughter at the sight. “You are so dirty!” “You—” Hyrule doesn’t have a good insult, but his grin is more akin to one of a villain as he scoops a handful of mud. It nails Wild in the middle of his chest. Askance, the champion stares at the mud on his tunic, then back to Hyrule. The traveler freezes, laughter dying as he waits to see if he went too far. Wild throws himself on top of Hyrule and they go down in another splash. Having the upper hand, the champion scoops mud and smears it on Hyrule. “No! No! Not the face!” Wild gets a nice streak across the traveler's brow. Hyrule retaliates with a muddy handprint on his cheek. They roll in the mud, finally landing in the grass, soaking wet and dirty. Time is going to have a fit when he sees them.

Thank you again bre for the collab! had fun with this one <3

[fennecfics]

“Stanley hoped that he would one day see weather.”

Stanley sees weather.

After escaping the parable, Stanley seems much more curious and eager to see the real world around him. Although he’s a tad scared, so either you or the narrator have to be there with him to experience it.

His favorite thing to do is definitely look outside the window. Every time you wake up, he’s already awake and looking outside the window. Up at the sky. He loves the sky.

He also loves rain. Not only to listen to, but to watch it. On rainy days he snuggles up by the window on a chair, watching as the rain drops down the glass. Sometimes you race the raindrops with him.

The first time it rained, you took both the narrator and Stanley outside to experience better. The narrator didn’t like it, and stayed on the porch to watch instead. 

But Stanley… he stood in the rain for a solid minute before he then began to run around and splash his feet in puddles. He never wanted the rain to stop! …then he slipped and hurt his leg………and got mud all over himself. He still loves rain, he just knows to be careful now. 

The first time it snowed on the other hand, he’s still getting used to that. The cold temperatures aren’t exactly his favorite, but a good coat would quickly melt those feelings away. 

The narrator didn’t like the cold temperatures either, but it was nice for him to have excuse to sit by the fireplace with a warm cup of tea.

Definitely not Stanley’s favorite…but he loved the snowball fights. Especially when he got to throw one at the narrator’s face, making him slip and fall on his ass.

The first time it thundered though, both Stanley and the narrator were very startled. The loud bangs outside and flashing white coming from the windows was a little too familiar for the two. 

The narrator stuck by your side the entire time, his arms crossed, clearly very uncomfortable. While Stanley hid under the kitchen table with the bucket over his head. Please comfort him.

Overall though, Stanley loves that he gets to finally see weather after all these years in the parable. He’s extremely grateful to be given this chance, and for you entering his life.

[faerunsbest]

So I did a little fic of Rolan venturing with the party to rescue Cal and Lia from moonrise.

I want to do the moster wife thing,

What you think for the opening?

Choices choices

Rolan lifted his face from the mud, unsurprised by the golden veil that passed its warmth over him. A wide beam of sunlight was dashed over him and there was tav.

Again.

Saving his ass…

Again and again and again.

This time however before he could yell They were on him, arms tight around him.

“ I know why you're upset, I'm sorry. I miss my family too. Let me help you get yours back.”

Rolan struggled against their hold on him, he huffed and felt his eyes burt, so he lashed out with violent words.

But tav didn't let go. They just held on and it reminded him so much of Cal when they didn't want to See the fighting anymore. It wasn't fair…why can they do this to him?!

When he calmed enough, cleared his throat and wiped his face. Tav looked at him patiently.

“What now?!”

Lae’zel looked over to him.

“Lead the way, we have been promised to assist in gathering your …”

She seemed to search for the words, only for karlach to throw an arm over her shoulder and give a big wide grin.

“Family, you're lookin for family. That's the word soldier.”

Laezel looked back Rolan with a firm nod,arms crossed over her chest.

“We shall assist you in collecting your family.”

Astarion stood nearby, twirling a dagger in one hand as he eyes rolan with interest.

“And what do we get for going out of our wat for helping him?”

Rolans shoulders stiffened, tav snorted and shoved Him by his shoulders.

“What do I get for helping you?”

“A fabulous archer.”

“I have lae'zel.”

“Someone to guard your back”

“I have laezel.”

“Someome pretty to look at in this mess.”

“I have lae'zel.”

Astarion gasped loudly as Laezel and karlach both laughed.

“so, Astarion if I only help people who can help me- you're shit outta luck ain't ya?”

The small crowd walked along, tav pulling a small health potion out from their pack to hand over to Rolan. Gale laughed from beside him.

“You're still a beautiful man, I assure you but it's not a fair comparison is it?”

What a strange bundle of bodies it was that Rolan found himself walking with to moonrise. They chatted and teased each other, laughed and even mid battle took jabs. Eventually they entered the place with a bizarre boldness, right through the front door. Rolan found that tav seemed to carry a sharp intense leer, letting people stumble over themselves to get them in.

So in they went. Stepping through puddles of blood, punting bones and things out of the way. Soon enough Rolan found himself with the others looking for a way down to the dungeons and somewhere in route they found themself in a lab. A lab with a woman who kept leering so luridly at astarion.

Rolan found himself watching as the vampire seemed to worry, leaning towards tav. The vampire needing to be defended…and he was. Rolan watched as tav laughed in the face of a great opportunity to keep that bratty vampire safe.

Soon the descended long stairs, Rolan looking over from the corner of his eye to see Astarion looking so terribly lost. Rolan couldn't help but ask out loud.

“Tav, why do you do this?”

“Do what?”

“All of it? It would have been wiser to abandon the grove, what did you gain? Nothing really… Mol told everyone that you slew harpies to save one child. I keep hearing about all the things you do, so why do you do it?”

They listened to tav hmm and think quietly a moment as they trotted down the stairs.

“Because I suppose…I'm selfish.”

Rolan jerked his head to the side to look at tav, lae'zel with that shameless smirk. Did she understand what tav meant? Astarion clearly didn't, his eyes darted all over before landing back on tav. Rolan asked again

“Maybe I don't understand the word as you do. Enlighten me if you please.”

Tav chuckled, the sound becoming ominous as it trickled down the stairs.

“ I begged for help, I prayed. I thought I would die, every day. No one answered, we were all begging for help looking to God's, looking to soldiers and armies and anyone else for help. I alway wished, anyone would help but no one ever did. You know what? I'm someone and I can help. So maybe, maybe if I help enough people they'll all realize they're someone too. And someone can help.”

What a strange and naive way of thinking he looked back to tav who caught his gaze.

“I do this because no one helped me, and I don't want anyone to feel like I did. I want to be the person I needed.”

Rolan found a lopsided smile on his face.

“You sound like my mother.”

“I bet shes lovely.”

“Indeed she was.”

Downstairs in the dungeons, Rolan looked around while tav talked circles around the guards. He glanced to the side and saw them, Cal and Lia pressed to bars of their cell. They stared at him in shock while he waited behind Tav and beside Astarion. He followed along deciding to trust them as they walked past the cell full of tieflings with a wink and headed straight for the gnomes.

Too long later Rolan was sitting in the damn boat with all others, Cal and Lia Leaned on his shoulders exhausted. He looked and found tav smiling at him, he couldn't help but smile back, a small lopsided exhausted smile.

“What are you staring at? Must you continue to meddle?”

He chuckled as he said it,

“I simply must!”

Gale looked out over the water, up ahead. Rolan and the others catching sight of a fork in the path. Gale frowned at it

"i do wonders if those old stories are true.”

“of what tales do you speak wizard?”

Laezel asked as she peered out.

“Tara told me that deep down, between hell and the dark there's a place a were midgods are banished.”

“midgod?”

“the ones that were born but were never human.”

“Why would they be banished?”

“I don't recall, but apparently that's where the temples are.”

Rolan felt Cal shift against him, absent mindedly reaching up to rub the side of Cal's head, letting him fall asleep again. As he did he spoke softly, not wanting to wake his siblings.

“It's the gods that stole immortality, drank it from blades of grass and split their tongues.”

Gale pointed at rolan with a bright smile.

“yes! That's what Tara said, she said there was some kind of battle and the servants stole some drink. They wound up punished by being locked away, something like that.”

“they were bound not banished.”

Laezel blinked, looking down to her boots then across the water.

“bound to what?”

A wave of water crashed against the side of the boat making it rock, Rolan felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. For a moment he locked eyes with Tav, Gale and laezel both looking down at the water.

Laezel was wearing heavy armor, karlach with her mechanical heart encased in heat, Astarion being a vampire was not able to swim. Gale was exhausted and out of spells, the others left only civilians.

Again the boat rocked. Tav and the others tensed. What a terrible place to be caught in, Rolans mind raced as a million scenarios played out. This time spiraling ribbons of waves shattered the waters smooth surface before something heavy slammed up against the boat.

The refugees gasped and yelled, clinging to each other as they pulled each other to boats center. Laezel whipped her blade across the edge of the boat when a webbed hand made its way over.

Cal and Lia looked around in horror as they seemed to be surrounded. Rolan grabbed his siblings by the collar and threw them forward, into the others. He let off a string of spells as he leapt out over the edge of the boat. He stood on the surface of the water, all those ribbons of ripples whipping around to him.

He ran off toward the nearest shore, throwing another spell over his shoulder.

“DOLOR!”

Thunderwave slammed across the water, a small tidal slamming against the boat sending it and all I souls careening down their path.

“ROLAN!!!!”

Cal shrieked, him and Lia almost jumping over to go with him. Karlach pulled them back, Gale watching as a single exhausted wizard quickly depleted energy he shouldn't have. He watched Rolan run across the water, stumbling when he hit the shore and ran for the other path. A myriad of Fishman burst from surface to rush after him, though before was out of sight rolan bellowed.

“I'LL MEET YOU AT THE GATE!”

Lae'zel looked on as he disappeared onto the dark, part of her wanted to consider him a loss. But she was getting used to being proven wrong.

Gale raised his staff, it's light casting sanctuary over the boat for the rest of the trip back the inn.

[satureja13]

Jeb's Investigations - Part 1

After Jeb logged in, he found himself on Valerian's back in an insanely beautiful and insanely green landscape. He doesn't have any orientation yet, so he let Valerian set the direction.

Valerian stopped by an occurrence of gems...

... and urged Jeb to extract it. Jeb really does have more urgent things to do. Like finding the crime scene. But Valerian wouldn't bugde. Jeb sighed and got to work.

Valerian seems pleased with how well Jeb obeys :3

When Jeb was done extracting the gems, Valerian went a bit further away and neighed. Jeb: "What now? I can't dig here all day. There's a killer on the loose, you know?"

But Valerian remained stubborn and so Jeb went into the direction Valerian nudged him to.

Which was: the crime scene! Here is the place where Jack found his own dead body! Just - the corpse was gone ö.Ö'

Oh no. They should have sent Jeb ingame first instead of Ji Ho! But if they had, Ji Ho would have missed the demon!

Jeb investigated the crime scene anyway. There must be some hints. And really - there are pawprints. From a very huge dog... or - a werewolf! Had Jack been right and it was Greg who killed him? Plus - the puddle of Jack's blood had been digged over. To erase trace?

There are more pawprints leading away from the crime scene. And they are imprinted deeper into the ground. The dog/wolf who left was heavier. A lot heavier... Omg! Did he devour Jack??? (Eh - there was someone who said he was going to eat Jack! LOU! And - Lou is a werewolf too!) And! This must be Lou's secret place in the woods where Jack and him used to spar! Lou said no one would see them out here! OMG!

The crime scene was just a gem's throw away from Goldshire, where Jack had lived happily together with Lou. Jeb will ride over to get some statements there, mainly from Lou. And maybe find possible witnesses. (But be careful!)

And so Jeb and Valerian rode over to Goldshire. To meet Lou - murderer or mourner? (I mean, Jack meeting a perfect guy like Lou was to good to be true, right?)

to be continued...

'If I should fall from grace with God Where no doctor can relieve me If I'm buried in the sod But the angels won't receive me

Let me go, boys, let me go, boys Let me go down in the mud, where the rivers all run dry'

If I should fall from grace with god - The Pogues

The Therapy Game Master Post with the sessions and places so far is -> here

From the Beginning 🔱  Underwater Love 🔱 Latest

Current Chapter: 'Who killed Jack?' from the beginning ▶️ here

📚 Previous Chapters: Chapters: 1-6 ~ 7-12 ~ 13-16 ~ 17-22 ~ 23-28

[bridaltrain]

(mature, mortal au)

She feels a little out of her depth, walking up to the house. The lights flicker between red and purple and blue, bass throbbing like a bruise come alive, and it’s a noise complaint waiting to happen.

Her costume is itchy against her hips and under her arms, but she fights the urge to readjust it because she’s already pulled her top down three times since crossing onto this block and the girls sitting on the lawn are staring. They’re all wearing some sort of cheerleader costume, covered in blood, and Annabeth isn’t exactly a slasher film expert, though she doesn’t think they’re dressed up as anything in particular. It’s not like she’s in any place to judge a generic hot cheerleader costume when she’s done herself up as Sexy Lemon Meringue. 

The skirt hugging her hip bones is ruffled in shades of yellow extending just far enough to cover her ass if she stands upright and still. The rest isn’t much better.  Her top is about the length of a bra, with puffy polka dot sleeves that are tight on her skin and given that she’s basically a twig, she isn’t sure who this would have fit better. 

The pavement is wet, mud clinging to her Converses, and the bitter wind slices through her like a knife with ample purchase. She’d really only covered the parts that matter. 

Her hair saves her, curls climbing down her back in the way she usually hates in the summer, when they turn into a personal furnace. Now, she’s grateful for it as she walks past the cheerleader girls, hair longer than her skirt and hiding her behind. 

Thank God she didn’t listen to Silena about the pigtails. 

A boy spills out the front door just as she reaches the steps, hurtling down the side to the porch and hunching over the railing. She doesn’t look long enough to see him throw up, zoned in on the cracked open door and momentarily elated. The music booms—something noisy and obnoxious she’s sure Percy would be into—and the chatter inside is loud enough to make her think she can slip in relatively unnoticed. 

She’s only just planted her feet on the scratchy welcome mat when the door swings half open, a lithe figure cloaked in black filling the space between the frame, blocking the inside of the house from her view. 

Familiar, she thinks at first. Pale skin and glossy hair, dark eyes and a smirk tugging at his lips that makes her fold her arms to hide some of her bare skin. 

Familiar, yet she can’t find a name and it’s clear he doesn’t recognize her either. 

“Here alone?”  

Annabeth swallows. “My friend’s already inside.” 

He’s grinning now, eyes dragging lazily up and down her body. The neck of a beer bottle is tight in his grasp as he knocks it against his thigh, and she can tell he doesn’t buy it. “I think you’ve got the wrong house. If you’re looking for a Westlake party, that’s down nearer to the park. You are a high school kid right?” 

She shakes her head. “My friend’s in there. His name’s—” 

“Do you have an invite?” 

“Huh?”

He cranes his head forward, expression stern and unforgiving, but Annabeth stands her ground. “I don’t give a fuck if your friend is here. You’re like—what? Fourteen? Go home, don’t be stupid.” 

She’s wondering whether or not it’s immature to say she’s not fourteen when his face suddenly lights up. She realizes there’s someone coming from behind only as a group of college kids push past her body like they can’t even fucking see her, strewing her nearer to the drunk, passed out now, slumped into himself in a puddle of vomit. 

He lets them in without any hassle, clapping the whole lot of them on the back as they rush in. A Party City bride of Frankenstein lingers in the doorway to kiss his cheek, leaving the trace of her shimmery dark purple lips. He’d shuffled a little further to the side to give them room to enter, the door opened a little wider, his head turned. 

Annabeth takes her place in front of the door again, making out the familiar form deep in the kitchen. A head of blond hair tipped back against the ugly orange wood cabinets, flask shimmering in his hand. 

She doesn’t shout for him. Because just a second after she spots him, his head turns and his eyes go wide and she knows he’s seen her too. 

The guard dog whips his head back and forth between her and him, approaching in his recycled Jason Voorhees costume from two years ago, though without the mask it does just look like a bloody dumpster-green jumpsuit. Not that he doesn’t look good. Despite the cold wind, Annabeth knows she’s blushing. His hair is a mess and his eye bags are horrendous and his scar looks so nasty with the fake blood streaked on his face—and he’s beautiful. 

His eyes are solely on her when he gets to the door, but he reaches behind the other guy and flips over his hood. Ghostface, she realizes. Not just a black cloak. 

“Luke,” she breathes, drinking him like it’s the first time they’ve ever met. Starry-eyed idiot in her frills freezing her ass off on the front porch of a college party. 

“Hey, bug.” He smiles softly. “Ethan giving you trouble?” 

He wipes the mask off his face. “Oh,” he says. Flat, but also like something’s just clicked and she wonders how much Luke’s friends know about her. About as much as her friends know about him, if she had to guess. 

“I need an invite,” she tells him, finding her composure. 

His lips part and his eyebrows shoot up, and she’s not just being full of herself when she swears this has to be the first time he’s had fun all night. “And here I thought cute girls always get in for free.” 

“This isn’t a fucking frat,” Ethan says, rolling his eyes. Good natured, but there’s a crease in his forehead now that wasn’t there before as he continues to shift his gaze between them. “It’s supposed to be for friends. And I didn’t know she was yours. Get off my dick.” 

He must have a shit ton of friends, she thinks. 

With that, he turns and steps further into the house, looking at her at least two more times before he ducks out of view. 

Annabeth knows she’s being judged and she wishes she could let it pass, but her costume is so itchy and she is, actually, from Westlake High and she wants to be older just so she can stop feeling like a child playing dress up. 

Luke reaches for her, cold hand to cold hand, and she realizes he must not be that drunk yet. It’s only ten o’something, anyway. 

He shuts the door behind her, reeling her in. 

Maybe it goes without saying that this is Annabeth’s first real party. Her school friends don’t exactly have the house that house parties require, and they have at least one logical parent each who’d never let something like that happen in the first place. She’s been to birthdays and “parties” at the beach and homecoming dances—and she’d come to the conclusion a long time ago that she loves all things of the sort. 

She’s never been somewhere like this and she doesn’t even think it would be classified as a rager by any means, but there are so many people and she swears they’re all staring at her. 

“Luke…” She can’t get herself to look away from the crowd as he drags her through them and into the kitchen. 

There’s no one else here, thankfully. A clutter of booze decorates the countertop and Luke drops her hand to uncap a bottle of Maker’s Mark without a word. She watches the amber liquid pour into his flask, trying to ignore the sensation of eyes burning into her cheeks and Annabeth wonders if she had just let Silena do her makeup like she’d insisted, if it would have made a difference. 

“Luke,” she repeats, voice coarse, shuffling closer to him to be heard in all the noise. He throws her a distracted look before busying himself with the bottle again, settling it down gently like a baby. 

“Hm?” 

“Why is everyone…” her words trail off weakly and he must catch her panic because he finally looks up. 

For a curious second, his eyes harden as he scans the crowd. Then they melt back into his normal easy expression and he bumps his knuckles against the itchy band of her puff sleeve. “You’re fucking pretty, Annabeth.” 

She shakes her head, feeling annoyed and restless at his supposed lack of understanding, when she knows Luke has to get it. It’s why his friends have never fucking seen her before. 

Annabeth frowns, fingers gripping the counter and she spots ants crawling through the alcohol bottles and it’s so loud and the music is so horrendous not even Percy would like it and she wishes he were here because he’d understand. He’d take her outside and sit with her and they’d pretend they could see stars in the smoggy sky and he’d ask her to tell him about the constellations, half because he wants to hear it, half because it calms her down to explain things, and he’d interject with stupid commentary, but be a good listener all the same and he’d hate to know she’s here right now. 

She doesn’t know what she must look like, watching the partygoers unwaveringly. Pretty fucking insane, probably, because Luke takes her face in one hand and directs it back at himself. 

She’s looking at him, and she’s seeing nothing. 

“Hey.” His voice is underwater. “Annabeth, hey. Breathe. C’mon. It’s okay, no one’s judging, you’ve just gotta breathe.” 

Except, they are judging and he sounds like a liar. 

Briefly, she considers hiding behind him, but the angle isn’t right and they’d still see her so instead she wraps her arms around her midsection, which doesn’t really do anything because, seriously, her whole torso is on display and they can definitely see the rapid rise and fall of it as she searches for air. The windows are open so why isn’t there any air? 

Luke’s hand is warmer now, radiating on her cheek. She tries to look at him, really look at him, and she tries to imagine that boy in the alley, who’d saved her. Who’d held her until her sobs dwindled into a runny nose that he let her wipe on his own sleeve. She’d turned that boy who wanted to be her brother into her ex boyfriend and he’s not nearly as helpful now as he was then, and everyone is staring at her like she’s the one who has to take the fall for that. 

“Can we leave?” she rushes out between two very shallow breaths.

He doesn’t respond to that. Or maybe he does. She can hear him saying you chose to come here in her head, but that could just be her own conscience kicking her down. Sometimes that voice sounds like him. 

“Right,” he says to himself, like he’s done with all this. He untwists his flask and brings the rim to her closed mouth. “This is ridiculous, Annabeth.” 

“Stop,” she whines, pulling away. 

“It’ll make you feel better,” he coaxes, using his sweet voice now. 

“I hate it.” 

Patiently, he says, “You’ve never tried it.” 

He holds the flask against her chest, above the neckline of her top, the cold metal going straight through flesh and to her heart. 

“I know you trust me,” he says, and later she’ll recognize that this was probably the cruelest way he could have phrased it. 

He holds her head firmly in one hand, thumb reaching out to pry open her bottom lip, undoubtedly smearing her lip gloss. Annabeth doesn’t know what to expect when the alcohol hits her tongue. 

It's the worst thing she’s ever tasted. It startles her. So maybe in that way it does its job. 

Luke, she learns, only intended to give her about a teaspoon’s worth. It’s her own hand that reaches for the flask, that lets even more of it fall down her throat because anything is better than feeling laughed at. 

After the initial shock wears off, Luke quickly tugs it back. Annabeth tries not to throw up into the sink, gagging, barely looking over at him. If she did, she’d be able to tell that he’s angry, territorial over his vices. 

“What the fuck.” He tucks it into a pocket on his costume, now holding onto the whiskey bottle itself. 

“Sorry,” she rasps through the disgusting aftertaste, turning her back on the others finally . She sinks to the floor, the wood cold on her naked legs, trying for a successful breath. 

He isn’t feeling like Nice Luke anymore, apparently. “What are you doing?” 

Annabeth heaves. “Just…need a moment.” 

��You had a moment. If people weren’t staring before, you got their attention now. Can you get up?” 

She shakes her head, tuning out the bass and his harsh tone as she settles into a steady rhythm. 

“We can go upstairs and you can do this in a bathroom—whatever. Get up. This is so dramatic.” 

“Please wait,” she croaks. 

“What do you think I’ve been doing?”

“I know—just. I don’t want to get up yet.” 

“You’re going to have to eventually. It’s just gonna be with or without me.” 

Her head shoots up at him in panic. “Where are you going?” 

He nods over to his left, though she doesn’t remember the house’s layout and can’t see anything from down here. For a pathetic minute, she just blinks up at him, scarily tall when she’s at his feet and even worse when he’s dressed like a serial killer. Luke taps his fingers on the bottle. He’s given her more than the moment she’s asked for at this point, even though he did bitch about it, so really, it shouldn’t be surprising to her when he finally straightens and turns away. 

It should be impossible to actually hear his steps. Still, to her they’re louder than the music and resounding. Like a lost duckling, Annabeth scrambles up from the floor, following after him without even letting herself balance first and she can only hope that her skirt isn't flipped up when she flees the kitchen. 

Luke stands at the first step, waiting. Of course, he wouldn’t have actually left. He’d only wanted to light a fire under her; get her to brave being seen while she worries about something else. 

His lips twitch, satisfied and when he pulls her into him his embrace is relieving. “There’s my girl.” 

He leads her up the stairs before Annabeth has the opportunity to check if she’s being watched, again.

[hisuian-history-makers]

Random Nimona (2023 Movie) Headcanons

—Ballister and Ambrosius did combine their last names to make “Goldenheart/Goldheart” due to Nimona relentlessly teasing the latter.

—Nimona is fine using any pronouns and will frequently change which type they/she use except it/its. No need to explain why…

—Ambros’ middle name is Gloria. The fact his initials spell out Agg will never cease to get a small chuckle out of Nimona or Ballister.

—Bal has let Nimona spray-paint some of his arms. A few have themes he proudly wears.

—Graffiti is legal in the city once Ambros’ passes a law. As long as the art in question doesn’t contain any inappropriate imagery.

—Sometimes they play a version of Guess Who? called “Guess What?” where Nimona will shapeshift into an extinct species. Whoever guesses the closest related animal to it wins!

—She sometimes corrects historical inaccuracies reminding everyone that they are genuinely at or over one thousand years old.

—Ballister will occasionally share stories about the Queen spending time with him. Mentions of her are scarce yet always entertaining as they involve a very devoted kid Bal’s antics.

(Ambros’ favorite has to be when Bal “protected” the Queen from dirtying her feet by literally throwing himself into the mud puddle.)

—Nimona isn’t human and sometimes his dads have a hard time wrapping their heads around this fact. She/He/They are simply Nimona.

(The first time they shifted into one was when she met Gloreth. He just exists, simple as that.)

—Gloreth came up with the name Nimona…

—She will take requests from kids to shapeshift into. Some suggestions even teach them about animals they have no clue existed like Giraffes!

—Ambros’ is a worrywart who stressed over written exams. Sometimes he wouldn’t even finish the assignments due to needing to grammar and spellcheck every little sentence.