#whatever. FLY MY RUSHED MIND PIECE

[jaggybot3000]

Alright. i had to get at least one Jashtober art piece out there.

of course it's mind...but get it, he's wearing a crown of thorns......but its made of lightning bc of his....he's.....the Mind Electric........GET IUT

sketches/textless vers. below

im gonna push him down the stairs

[sargeant-bxrnes]

birthday ramé. [g.s]

—✮ summary: where your husband gojo, and your little daughter airi, are planning a nice birthday surprise for you, which of course, in true gojo’s fashion… must be a little chaotic. [requested!]

pairings: gojo x f!reader [married]

contents: pure fluff, girl-dad!gojo :) | wc: 930

my masterlist! | my requests are OPEN!

Gojo tiptoed around the kitchen with the grace of a rampaging elephant. His wild white hair seemed to have a mind of its own, adding to the general chaos that surrounded him. He was trying to do a nice gesture for you, and nothing will get in his way, not even his own lack of culinary skills.

Little Airi, a two-year-old bundle of joy and mini-Gojo, was perched on the kitchen counter, happily making an (artistic) mess with flour and sugar on the surface with her little hands. She giggled, resembling a pocket-sized version of her father, right down to the snow white hair, the mischievous glint in her eyes and the way she seemed to be fully charged with energy all the time.

Gojo, wearing his blindfold for 'professionalism' reasons, was attempting to crack eggs both in a rush and with dramatic flair, but ended up sending shells flying in every direction. Airi clapped her tiny hands, unaware of the kitchen mayhem she was contributing to.

Satoru smiled at his little baby, seeing a hint of your smile in little Airi’s face, she looked just like you, sometimes, but most if not all the time, little Airi was all him. Even now, when they're supposed to be preparing you a nice surprise but are downright creating chaos.

Suddenly, the unmistakable scent of burnt toast wafted through the air, and Gojo froze for a few seconds, realizing he might be losing control of the situation. He glanced at Airi, who was now happily smearing jam on a piece of pancake with her own little sticky hands, well, she was happy and away from the fire, all good.

"Uh-oh. Well, who doesn't love a bit of extra crunch?" He mumbles to himself as he removes the other pancake from the heat, aware that it's more of a... semi burnt pancake.

The kitchen door creaked open, and you, the birthday girl, walked in completely unsuspecting, rubbing your eyes from sleepiness, however an expression of amused confusion quickly took over your features.— you had woken up to the other side of your bed empty, which made you pout a bit, however that had soon changed by the muffled sounds of Airi’s little giggles and whatever ramble left Goru's mouth. — which prompted you here, to witness this cute moment.

"What kind of culinary circus is happening here?" You asked in amusement.

As Gojo valiantly attempted to rescue a pan from the clutches of overcooking, Airi presented you with a lopsided pancake. "’appy birfday, Mommy!"

You couldn't help but chuckle at the adorable mess unfolding before you, walking closer to the counter where little Airi was sitting down, as her little hands immediately made a 'grabby hands' gesture for you to pick her up.

Gojo, grinned like this chaotic deliver was planned all along, and turned to face you. "Happy birthday, love! Airi and I are just preparing a breakfast surprise, or as I like to call it, controlled chaos."

You raised an eyebrow with an amused expression, taking in the whimsical kitchen scene, an unnatural amount of dirty dishes all around, a mess of flour and sugar, and some cracked eggs by the side.

"Thank you, honey. And… Controlled chaos? Is that a new cooking technique?" You inquired as you picked up the baby and cradled her in your arms; she hid her head in the crook of your neck as her messy white hair tickled your skin.

"Absolutely! Cutting-edge stuff, really." Gojo muses, walking closer to you and your daughter, wrapping his long arm around both, leaning down to kiss her little forehead.

"Well, it's certainly a... unique surprise," you muse, tickling your little girl's side, making her giggle. "Thank you, my little chef. And you, Mr. Gojo, for this unforgettable start to my day."

“You are absolutely welcome, Mrs. Gojo.” Satoru grinned, leaning down to kiss you, his lips softly met yours in an affectionate gesture, the kiss was slow and filled with love, which admittedly he would've prolonged a bit more if little Airi hadn't patted his cheek with her jam smeared little fingers.

Gojo pulled back from the interrupted kiss, a playful whine escaping him as he shot Airi an exaggerated pout.

"Hey, little interrupter, Daddy was having a moment there." he chuckled, wiping a bit of jam from his cheek and smearing it playfully on her tiny nose.

Airi, seemingly unfazed, grinned innocently, her little head still comfortably resting on the crook of your neck. "Mommy mine!"

You chuckled, patting Gojo on the shoulder "Looks like you've got some competition for my affection, baby."

Gojo, not one to be easily deterred, leaned in close to the baby girl, a twinkle in his eye. "Airi, did you know I met your mom first? That means I can kiss her whenever I want."

Her eyes widened in curiosity, and before Gojo could continue with whatever questionable commentary he had in mind, you swiftly intervened. You shot your husband a look that warned him against taking the banter too far, and he paused, sighing dramatically.

"Alright, alright, I'll behave. For now," he conceded, and you gave him a mock stern look, shaking your head in amusement. "But just know, I have a whole repertoire of embarrassing stories waiting for Airi when she's older."

You rolled your eyes with a smile�� Satoru wrapped his arms around you both as Airi giggles happy, and you realized that, despite the chaos, these were the moments that made your little family so uniquely charming, even surrounded by burnt toasts, lopsided pancakes and sticky fingers.

[adnauseum11]

Short Takeoff, Vertical Landing (John Price x Reader)

John gives you a gift and you explore your understanding of the man.

3.1k words (longer than I normally like, my bad)

CW: swearing, sex (MDNI - 18+ only)

This is shameless slice of life smut - you've been warned!

This work is part of the S.N.A.F.U series, the Masterlist is pinned to my blog.

Feedback welcome!

Ao3

It takes a moment for you to compute what John’s words really mean, most of your higher brain function temporarily offline. Your body is still humming with the remnants of pleasure, making sitting up a languid affair. John’s pulling something out of his bedside drawer that is very much not shaped like a condom, to your partial dismay.

You crawl across the bed on slightly unsteady limbs and push your hair back, its disheveled state threatening to obscure your view of the handsome man in front of you. He’s holding out a flat, long box to you and you know instantly it’s jewelry. You hesitate, your experience with previous boyfriends and jewelry not typically good ones. The item in question almost inevitably not to your taste and something generic a salesperson has sold them. You quietly dread having another random piece you’ll be obliged to wear. Unfortunately, John reads you like a book.

“This was for Christmas but I fucked that up. If you don’t like it, we can change it.”

His deep voice is calm, but there’s a sudden tension to the set of his shoulders that gives him away as he holds the box out to you. If you didn’t know him so well you likely wouldn’t have noticed the slight shift in his stance but whatever is in the box in his hands means something to him. His willingness to interrupt sex for this should have tipped you off to that, but you freely blame the orgasm you’ve already had for being slow on the uptake.

The slim box is heavier than you expect, and you flick your eyes up to John’s face, the full weight of his attention settling on you again. You subconsciously hold your breath as you open the lid, the light of the room slowly revealing strands of luminous pearls gently forming a wave in the cradle of the box. The two long strands are held together with what’s obviously a vintage rectangle clasp, the aged silver and small diamonds sparkling amongst the gently rolling pearls. The breath you’ve been holding leaves your lungs in a surprised rush.

“Oh my god – John.”

“You like it?”

“I love it, this is exactly my style. Oh, this is gorgeous! It must have cost you a fortune!”

John doesn’t comment on the cost, a slow smile replacing the carefully blank expression he’s been wearing since you took charge of the box.

“Thought of you when I saw them. I’m glad you like them, darling.”

He’s about to say something else but changes his mind, reaching out to cup your jaw for a kiss instead. You clock the shift and run your fingertips over the pearls lightly, enjoying the feel of the cool smooth globes for a moment while you consider the man in front of you. You slowly piece together his request for your dress from earlier with the unspoken words he’s just swallowed and look down at the pearls in the box.

“Should I wear them?”

You know that’s the right question when his pupils dilate, his fingers spasming along your jaw as a full body shiver runs through him. You lift the necklace carefully from the box, handing him the empty container back. Without looking he tosses it, sending his cell phone and spare change flying from the impact. He doesn’t flinch, his eyes locked on you as you settle the pearls around your neck, spinning the clasp so it sits against your nape. The cool spheres brushing against your skin raise goosebumps again, your nipples tightening. You wonder what you must look like, perched nearly naked on the edge of the bed in nothing but a bra and the pearls he’s bought you, your hair a post orgasm mess. You’re about to run your hand over it self-consciously but John steps into your space, tilting your head back as he bends to kiss you again.

“You’re stunning; I love that I get to see you like this.”

You aren’t expecting that kind of tender admission from the aroused man in front of you, and it makes the breath catch in your throat, your hands wrapping around his wrists. John swallows the soft hiccup of breath, kissing you hungrily as he cups the back of your head. The sweep of his tongue over yours with the hint of your taste still discernable unlocks something in you. Suddenly you find yourself rising up on your knees to kiss him back, John’s appreciative groan giving you a jolt of empowerment. Your hands scrabble over his shoulders, sinking your fingertips into the heavy muscle as you press against his solid frame. John’s deft fingers undo your bra, breaking away from your mouth to tug it off your arms. The pearls make a soft sound as they clink together with your movements, sending a shiver down your spine.

The planes of John’s stomach jump as your hands land on his lower abdomen, fingers trailing through the dark hairs there. They work their way under the band of his pants, shoving them down his shifting hips as his mouth drops to seek out the line of your collarbone. He nips the rounded corner of your shoulder before kicking off his pants and boxers, his erection bobbing against your hip. Your fingers find him automatically, wrapping around the hard length of him and stroking, his hiss of pleasure ghosting across your neck. The gentle rattle of the pearls as your arm moves back and forth is seductive, bracing yourself with a palm in the centre of John’s chest, the dark hairs crinkling under your palm. You give him a gentle shove with your fingertips and when that doesn’t register you remove your hand from around his length, placing both palms on his chest to direct him into bed. John allows himself to be moved, landing nearly in the middle of the bed, his eyes locked on you with an intensity that makes your belly quiver.

His gaze follows the sway of the pearls over your breasts as you crawl up his body, sliding your palms up the hair of his thick thighs to cup him, forcing a jagged exhale out of his lungs. The head of his cock is flushed a deep red, a matching colour working its way over his throat and chest. His stomach pulls taut as he watches you bend over him, stroking him firmly, foreskin pulling back as you wrap your lips around the tip. John’s groan of pleasure rumbles through his body, his fingers landing in your hair. You open your jaw take as much of him as you can, making a few enthusiastic passes before pulling back and swirling your tongue around the head, tracing with the flat of your tongue. John flexes his hips, chasing the sensation with a guttural moan that only encourages you to wreck him further, your eyes landing on his blissed-out face.

The pearls trail through his dark body hair, making a mouth-watering contrast between the cool luminous globes and the heated flesh in your grasp. You return your attention to the tip of his cock, lapping your tongue over the underside while you fondle his balls. As his hips arch again you open your jaw and let the rise send his length down your throat, the stretch making your eyes water. His choked gasp and the press of his blunt fingernails into your scalp telegraph his pleasure at your unexpected action.  You hold still for a moment, your body fighting the invasion, your gag reflex fluttering around him before you pull back. The salty taste of his pre-cum coats your tongue and the shuddering deep groan you pull from him as you ease off goes straight to your pussy, a low throb starting to build again between your legs.

“Fuck, that feels so good.”

The low reverberation of his voice rolls down your spine and you flex your fingers against his hip in response, encouraging him to repeat the action. The naked desire in his voice makes you want to rub your thighs together and purr so you do the next best thing and moan around his tip, forcing a sharp gasp out of his lungs. His control is slipping, you can tell by the way his hips buck upwards, not even and measured as before. His length slides down your throat again, the quivering muscles wrenching an unguarded moan from his chest. The pearls draped over your skin start to collect against your throat and you realize he’s gathering them in his fist. You follow the unspoken direction and ease off, long strings of saliva connecting you for a moment after he slips from your mouth.

“Condom, now.”

He releases the necklace to let you lean over and fish a condom out of the drawer and you follow the order without argument, wiping your face in the process. Your willingness to be ordered around ends abruptly with a smack to his hand when he tries to take it away from you and take over. You end up straddling his wide thighs to pin him down with your weight, knowing that John only stays flat on his back because it’s what you want. He lets you roll the condom down his hard length and press him up against his abdomen so you can scoot forward over his hips. His breathing is laboured, your hands on him making his muscles contract as he fights to lay still as you settle over him. His eyes are dark and intense, locked on you as the pearls sway over your body with your movements, the gentle roll of them over your skin like a caress.

“Fuck me, you’re gorgeous.”

John breathes the words as you kneel over him, reaching behind you to wrap your fingers around him again, guiding him to your slick entrance, focused on lining yourself up. You answer him with a heated kiss, your attention on the stretch as you lower yourself, spearing your aching pussy on his tense body. Your palm rests on the steady planes of John’s chest, his head thrown back and the muscles of his neck corded as you slowly start rocking your hips, working him inside until he’s fully seated. He hisses as you rise over him and sink back down, setting a slow and steady pace with a pleased purr. The weight of John’s gaze lands on you again, his hands hovering over your hips as you move, the pearls rocking back and forth over the tight buds of your nipples. The heated drag of his cock through your silken walls has your nails biting into his chest in pleasure. John groans but doesn’t try to shift your hands, his attention fully on you as his hips rock up to meet yours.

“You like seeing me in things you’ve picked out?”

The words fall out of your mouth without any forethought, the part of your brain normally tasked with assimilating information overwhelmed with delicious sensation. The slight rise of John’s hips grinds his public bone against your clit with each downward stroke and your brain goes fuzzy with each lingering contact, shivers running up your spine.

“Yes, yes just like that, bloody hell.”

His hands finally land on your hips, squeezing you as he urges you on, trying to speed you up. You resist, twisting slightly as you rise pulling a low groan out of him, your hands wrapping around his wrists to steady yourself. You slide down his length again, clenching around him as your grind down, biting your bottom lip. There’s a severe look on John’s face as he curses again, your breath coming in shorter pants as you move over him.

“Why that dress?”

John answers that nagging question with the same bald honesty he’s answered everything else you’ve asked of him today, his eyes falling to the spot where your bodies are connected, his fingers dimpling your hips with his grip.

“Don’t think I’ve stopped thinking about you in that dress since you turned up in it.”

You continue your steady pace, John’s flushed face impossible to look away from. There’s devotion etched there, and your heart squeezes painfully in your chest, feeling too large for your ribcage.

“When you were away? Did you ever think of me in that dress?”

“Every night. Love, please.”

This is as close as you’ve ever heard John beg for anything, an echo of his words from this morning. His desperation sends a thrill through your belly, speeding you up, the pearls clacking together against your heated flesh. You can feel John’s cock jerking deeply inside you, bumping against the sensitive patch of flesh that resides there and it weakens your thighs, your body wanting to go pliant against him.     

“John- “

“I’ve got you.”

He understands immediately and grips the globes of your ass as you drape over his heaving chest, your breathy panting muffled against the base of his neck. He braces his feet against the bed and fucks up into you, his grip spreading your cheeks as you moan into his ear. You can barely hear his muttered curse over the rush of blood in your ears and your own wanton noises, unable to stop yourself as John chases his pleasure now, his grip bruising. You nip at his thick shoulder, your teeth razing over his skin, his low rumbling moan vibrating through you as his blunt cock relentlessly buries itself in your slick pussy. The tightening coil of pleasure builds at the base of your spine, your muscles clenching around him as he buries himself and holds still, his hands shifting back to your hips.

“Sit up, love, I want to see you.”

You follow John’s order mindlessly, dragging your palms over his chest to press yourself back up, biting your lip when John twitches deep inside you, meeting his heated gaze. To your surprise he sits up too, the thick muscles of his abdomen flexing and pressing against you as he settles inches from your face, his legs going akimbo behind you. His big palms land on the tops of your thighs, squeezing your flesh in encouragement.

“Bounce, love.”

Again, you follow his direction without any compunction, and immediately your nails dig into the tops of his shoulders as this position offers more friction against your clit. A gasp is torn from your throat after the first experimental rise of your hips, and soon you land on a rhythm that has the frame of the bed groaning. The pearls are trapped between your bodies, the soft clinking nearly inaudible as the tension in you builds quickly, the angle making your toes curl and your moans climb in volume. John’s strong hands steady your sides, his body jerking up into you with each bounce, the walls of your soaked pussy bearing down on him tightly. His eyes are inches from yours, and you’re transfixed and unable to look away, his pupils blown.

All it takes is a firm smack on your ass to tip you over the edge, the jolt enough to make you clench around him, your nails raking over his back as you try desperately to ground yourself against the sudden cresting wave of your orgasm. A keening cry escapes you, your inner thighs trembling with strain as you try to clamp around his hips, the rhythmic pull of your slickened walls dragging a primal sound of out John’s chest before he tips you onto your back. His demanding thrusts send sparks shooting up your spine, catching the back end of your orgasm and drawing it out. You can feel the thundering of your heart in each extremity, your hands wrapped around John’s biceps as his hips jerk into the soft flesh of your body, the wet slap replacing the groaning of the bedframe. John’s thrusts quickly lose their rhythm, your leaking pussy pulsing around him tightly, drawing a broken sound out of him. He jerks into you deeply, making tiny little thrusts as he cums hard, his forehead landing on your shoulder as he groans loudly.

You stay locked like that, desperately trying to catch your breath for a few long minutes, John recovering quicker than you. You wordlessly protest when he tries to disentangle himself, tightening your limbs around him with a groan.

“I love you but I’ve got to get rid of this condom, darling.”

The low rumble of his voice in your ear convinces you to relax your hold on him and he extricates himself gingerly, leaving you sprawled the wrong way on the bed, too relaxed to bother moving the right way round. Finally, your heart rate slows and you marshal yourself to sit up, propping yourself on an arm. The pearls drape gracefully over your body as you move, swaying with you. John is at the sink when you meet his warm gaze across the room.

“You alright, love?”

“mhm, just needed a minute.”

John watches, half amused as you wriggle out of bed, making your way on wobbly legs to join him in the bathroom to pee. He leaves and returns with the case for the pearls, placing it on the counter by your elbow as you wash and dry your hands.

“John?”

You ask as he turns back to the bed, tugging the duvet cover with the wet spot off the duvet and tossing it towards the laundry hamper. The case for the pearls closes with a click as you return them to their place and you nudge the box into it's new spot beside your perfumes lined up on the counter.

“Hm?”

John’s proclivity for order and neatness distracts him from answering you and you smile affectionately as he wrestles the duvet back into a fresh cover. Once he’s satisfied you climb into bed, watching the curve of his spine as he bends to collect his cell and change from where they have scattered.

“What should I know about Kate before our dinner?”

He straightens and replaces the objects in his hands on his bedside table, crawling into bed and spooning you, pressing a kiss to your shoulder as he rolls you on to your side. You offer no resistance, sighing softly, feeling deeply content and drowsy, your fingers tracing over his forearm.

“Well, to start she’s American, and a very good poker player. Impressive poker face.”

From your position you can’t tell if he’s joking or not but you let his words roll over you nonetheless, the rise and fall of his voice soothing. Exhaustion from the highs and lows of the day are pulling you under before you can learn what part of America she hails from, or ask any more questions about the mysterious figure in John’s life.

Next Chapter

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[clone-anon]

I miss Tech. I know you might not be able to write for awhile and I get that. If you feel up to it though could you please write a fic where Tech is able to come to Pabu after tantis and finds out the Marauder is gone. Maybe reader (platonic/aromantic) comforts him with hugs and memories tks

Hello! I have some pretty strong feelings about Tech and how we still didn't see him in the entire last third of The Bad Batch. Here is hoping he will come home soon. And in manifestation of this....

Tech x GN!Reader

Warnings: Mention of injuries, but nothing explicit. No indication of whether Tech was CX-2 or not. Tech lives, obviously!

You sat on the landing pad near the ocean. It was empty now, but the last few remnants of the Marauder were only recently removed. In the rush to get to Tantiss, the people of Pabu did their best to help clean up the mess from the explosion while Wrecker, Hunter, and Crosshair left with Phee. You were among them, trying to grab whatever you could and sort through anything that you felt the brothers would want to keep. There wasn't much. Thankfully Gonky, Lula, Tech's goggles and various pieces of armor were already removed when the ship exploded. You did, however, manage to find and keep one thing.

You smiled to yourself as you looked down at the yoke and the lever used to jump to hyperspace.

"You recovered it?" Tech asked as he approached.

"I did," you replied with a smile. "I thought you might want to keep it."

Tech sat next to you with a flinch and sighed.

"You okay?" you asked.

"I'm better today." He was still healing, but mostly there. His family had waited until he was better to tell him about the Marauder. He didn't take it well, although he tried to insist it was merely a ship that could be replaced. You all knew better, but it was Tech's way to try to process the information.

Tech reached for the yoke and you gladly gave it to him. He held it in his hands as he had done hundreds of times while piloting the ship. It fit his grip perfectly.

"I requested this particular part," he said. "I requested the modifications to the Marauder. I was nine, but argued that since they felt we were nearly ready for battle, we should be able to get the best equipment. They made some of the modifications, but I made most of them. Even the ones they deemed unnecessary."

He reached for the lever and you handed it to him. He felt so natural holding these pieces, yet they were less familiar since they were no longer attached to anything.

"What was it like when you first flew the Marauder?" you asked.

Tech fondly smiled and answered, "The training simulations were not adequate, but I adapted quickly."

He grimaced, now faced with the thought that he would never fly his ship again. He would never have that home again. He took in a breath. Things changed, but he wasn't alone. He made it to Pabu, their new home. He put the yoke and lever aside and tried to smile at you. You opened your arms to invite him in for a hug if he wanted it. He didn't hesitate. He'd been separated from his family and friends for so long. He rested his head against yours and you held each other. While he wasn't usually one to cry, a few tears trickled down his face.

"I cannot explain why I feel this way. I'm home. We lived. I should only feel gratitude."

"It's okay, Tech," you reassured. "Sometimes I can't put my finger on my feelings, but I simply feel them. We're all built a little different. Besides, you survived a terrible fall. It takes a toll on your body, including your exceptional mind."

He nodded and took in a deep breath. You held him a little closer and waited for him to feel ready to let go. You stayed up with him and watched the ocean while he spent the night telling you all kinds of stories about flying and the modifications he wanted to make on a new ship.

[irisintheafterglow]

HAND THREE - TWO PAIR

summary: in a season where you're determined to fly under the radar, newly-returned crown prince!touya todoroki has other ideas. in this hand, a date is had.

wc: 2.5k

cw/tags: royalty!au/regency!au, fem!reader, some swearing, banter and dialogue driven, fake dating, pining and tension, todoroki enji jumpscare LOL

note: the two wolves living inside me is one wanting to rush the hell out of slow burn and the other telling me to make it painfully slow. however, i broke a little and made the pining a little obvious in this chapter oops. one day i will achieve the emotional release of s2 bridgerton bee sting scene. hope you enjoy !!!!

likes, reblogs, and replies are appreciated <3

“Show.” 

“You first.”

“I’m royalty.”

“And I have the higher stack. Now, show,” you repeat and he scoffs, the corner of his mouth tugging upward and creasing the deep purple scars on his cheek. He turns his two cards face-up and, sure enough, you’d snatched another victory from the self-proclaimed Prince of Calculation. “I win again,” you smile and he begrudgingly pushes the pot to your side of the table, an amalgamation of garden pebbles, stray buttons, and a few gold coins you managed to produce. You were using whatever you had to gamble and the prince didn’t seem to mind. Touya, you remind yourself. You were supposed to call him by his first name throughout this whole charade, but it seemed as foreign on your tongue as a protruding third set of teeth. 

“You’re a much more dangerous woman than you give yourself credit for,” he muses with a clever glint in his eyes. Over the course of the last month or so, you’d accumulated an immunity to his unwavering stares and scalding eyes; lately, it actually seemed you found a certain affinity for his intense nature, even when you were its only target. His sweetly poisonous words were the latest test to your composure. “If we dressed you as a man for the night, we could relieve an entire club of their purses before the clock strikes ten.” His pretty fingers dealt another two cards and you peeked at them from the bottom of your vision. Queen of hearts and two of clubs. Not the best hand. 

“Hmm. How much of the pot would you use to bail me out for invading said club?” You lay out the first three cards, the flop, and flip the first over before betting a conservative amount. Four of diamonds. 

“Who ever said anything about bail? I’d just sneak you out. It certainly wouldn’t be the first time,” he answers, calling your bet, and you can’t tell if he’s kidding. It was another piece you were still trying to solve of the puzzle that was the prince of the Todoroki family, how he joked so casually about breaking laws and dodging authority. The nonchalance of his recklessness made your stomach turn, sometimes, but you couldn’t tell if it was from fear or intrigue. You flip the second card of the flop. Two of hearts. A pair, if all else failed. You just had to hope he didn’t have anything either. 

“For a royal, you seem to know a concerning amount about rule breaking. Do you have any intent to corrupt me?” 

“By the end of our courtship, possibly.” Jack of diamonds. Not what you were hoping for as the third card, by any means. A flash of excitement lights up behind your opponent’s eyes, too purposeful to be genuine. You mentally added his poker tells to the never-ending list of things to figure out about him, right under the number of crimes he’s committed against the government. Tossing in a few medium-value flower petals, you’re unsurprised when he matches your bet again. 

“Our courtship which, I’ll remind you, is causing quite the stir in the ton,” you point out while revealing the turn. Seven of hearts. You try not to let your disappointment in your current hand show on your face. The prince, you notice, looks like he’s trying a little too hard to contain his excitement. “You know, I suspect they might be rooting for us.”

“That’d be a new experience for me. Never received too much support in my endeavors before.” He places a high bet and you have no choice but to match it. If you were right about him lying, you would learn something new about his poker strategy; but, if you were wrong, you wouldn’t hear the end of it for the rest of the day. You flip the river and your heart stutters. Two of diamonds. You’re careful with your next bet, knowing that three of a kind wasn’t the best or worst hand you could create. The prince, however, pushes his entire hoard into the pot with a challenge in his eyes. He was trying to force you to fold. 

You match the bet and reveal your hand. 

Two pair versus three of a kind. The prince was bluffing, and you won again.

“At least this time, you’re not alone.” The admission is obvious but still catches both of you off-guard when you say it. You’re about to apologize for being too sentimental when that unreadable look passes over his face again, sudden as a lightning strike and gone just as quickly. 

“I guess you’re right,” he murmurs, relinquishing the remaining pot of knick-knacks to you. “Though I will say, having my ass handed to me in a card game was not a part of my plan.”

“A woman with intellect is never part of a man’s plan, yet she prevails all the same,” you conclude and he hums in agreement, collecting the remaining cards and slotting them back into their box. A concerning thought occurs to you and you glance around the secluded palace courtyard with new-found suspicion. His eyes follow your own, watching you keenly in a way that was both comforting and unsettling. 

“What is it?” 

“Will the servants not whisper about a woman playing a man’s game?” 

“They will whisper that you won, and that is what matters,” he states like a well-known fact. “Why? Is something bothering you about them?” 

“No, I’m just mulling over this whole arrangement again.” You wave him off dismissively and take another sip of lemonade from your teacup. A drink which, when you’d finally agreed to meet the prince at the palace for a day, he ordered presumably because you both shared a distaste for tea. “How odd it is and how people gossip so.”

“A lady beating the prince at poker is hardly a scandal compared to what transpired last week,” he recalls with terribly-hidden amusement, breaking off a piece of scone and smearing a glob of berry preserves onto it. “Wouldn’t you agree?” Your cheeks heat when you think of the memory and you snap your fan open to cool yourself and hide your burning face. It certainly wasn’t your proudest moment, to say the least. 

“Would you like me to retrieve a stick to keep your competition at bay?” You had jokingly asked, following his distracted gaze. It was your third ball of the season and your third public appearance with the prince; both you and your co-conspirator were forced to acknowledge the increasing number of interested suitors trying to pry you away. Dances, you found, were one of the few moments where other men weren’t climbing over each other for your attention. The only problem was being forced to share breathing space with him for an extended period of time. “Your Highness, why are you glaring like that?”

“I said to stop calling me that, and I’m not glaring,” he mumbled, very obviously glaring and avoiding your eyes. His hand stiffens around your waist, making your already-awkward distance from him more uncomfortable. It didn’t take long to notice that he was a fine dancer when he was with any other partner but you, and you figured it was because being in such close proximity was not part of your agreement. You raise a skeptical eyebrow, finally making him look at you when the silence indicates your displeasure. “Pay me no mind. I am only–”

“Moping like a kicked dog, that’s what you’re doing,” you interject and, in a blink, you’re back in another standoff with his intense stare.

“I don’t recall when you gained the right to comment on my behaviors so crassly.” Your eyebrows pinch, taken aback by his sudden hostility. His eyes were always burning, like embers in a fireplace, and it felt like the longer you looked at them, the less likely you’d be able to pull away. After a few moments of staring him down, you back off with a frustrated huff. You think you feel some of the tension leave him, too. 

“If we are to keep up this ruse in a believable manner, I suggest you confide in me from time to time, especially if it causes you to act in unfavorable ways,” you state simply, your irritation obvious. 

“You know nothing of my unfavorable ways.” The venom in his voice makes your heart sink, against your own judgment. His expression doesn’t soften, but his voice does. “Trust me. It’s not your burden to bear,” he says in a low tone and goosebumps spread across your arms, despite the fabric of your gloves and the sleeves of your dress. He meets your eyes and you could have sworn his gaze flickers to the neckline of your gown, but the action, like so many of his movements, is too quick to comment on. “So, let’s keep to our sides of the street, shall we?” 

“You’re insufferable,” you hiss, letting your politely smiling face slip as the strings conclude the dance. “Enjoy the rest of the evening. I feel a bit faint.” The muscles in his jaw clenches and you turn on your heel to beeline for an exit when a strong hand grabs you by the wrist and pulls you backward. Before you can register where you’re moving, your hand is placed firmly on his forearm and you’re a split-second from slapping him when–

“Touya.” Shit. With a blank mind, you remember to curtsy from pure muscle memory, dipping deeply toward the ground while the prince bends at the waist.

“Good evening, Father.” Touya’s voice becomes empty, devoid of all sarcasm, teasing, and charm. A glance at his face tells the same tale, blank and emotionless. The only indication of his true thoughts came the slight shake in his arm and how he unconsciously tugged you closer and closer to his side. You let yourself be pulled in and your free hand moved on its own, coming to rest on top of his and running your thumb over his knuckles. He exhales shakily. “Father, this is–”

“I know who you are,” he says before you could be properly introduced, making your nostrils flare. The man besides you bristles and you wonder how such a hard-faced, stoic man could make such a reckless and carefree son. You’d never seen King Todoroki except in victory parades and newsprints of his alliance with King All Might, but you could recognize the family’s flaming eyes from miles away. You decided that, no matter how irritating the prince was, his father was lower on your ranking of the Todoroki royals. “Should you marry, are you aware of the responsibility of being the wife of a king?��� 

“I believe she is called a queen, Your Majesty,” you hear yourself say before you can stop yourself. From beside you, the prince makes a noise somewhere between a choke and a snort, and you direct your attention to the floorboards in hopes of surviving the king’s scathing reply. Despite the chatter of the party around you, it feels like your words were echoing off the gilded ceilings. The reprimand, however, never comes. The king turns back to his son with a look of suppressed wrath before turning and stalking away, a crowd of nobles crowing for his attention. 

“I can’t believe you just did that,” he whispers in disbelief as he hurriedly guides you out of the hall and into one of the manor’s gardens, still within sight of nosy mothers but out of their earshot. Your hand hasn’t left his arm, nor has he tried to pry it off. If anything, you click into his side like a missing puzzle piece, and you’re confusingly reluctant to let go. “That was the worst possible way you could have answered that question,” the prince continues and your stomach turns. 

“I’m sorry if I embarrassed you,” you reply with poorly masked shame, lowering your head and letting him walk ahead. Your hand detaches from his arm and you’re struck by the sudden lack of warmth. He turns sharply to look at you, looks back at his empty arm, and then back at you before closing the few feet between you. His eyes were burning into you again but he said nothing, watching you watch the blades of grass surrounding your shoes. Your voice is as quiet as the swaying summer wind. “If I have jeopardized our plan, I understand if you–”

“Stop,” he commands, and it takes a moment to register his gloved fingers under your chin, gently but firmly tilting your head to look at him. Your eyes trace the jagged lines of where his skin meets his scars and the world around you quiets. “I am…the opposite of angry with your actions.”

“What do you mean?”

“It’s not an easy task, talking back to my father. Yet, you performed it as easily as breathing,” he explains with a soft awe in his expression that made your breath catch in your chest. 

“I guess I’ve had good practice, countering your arguments for the better half of the summer,” you agree hesitantly. What the hell was this feeling? For whatever reason, the world around you temporarily faded to static noise and blurred paintings, with the only decipherable images being the man in front of you. “So, you’re not unhappy with my behavior around your father?”

“I have never been prouder to be seen with you,” he reassures you and you finally crack a smile, his hand leaving your face and his feet stepping back to a respectful distance. “On another note, can you recall what we were arguing about before we were interrupted?”

“I can’t, unfortunately. I believe I was about to leave you alone on the dance floor to mingle with other suitors,” you joke and, though his expression remains relaxed, his eyes darken subtly. 

“I wouldn’t let them so much as breathe in your direction,” he declares, your breath becoming stuck in your lungs again. “Plus, you were saying that you required a stick to fight them off.”

“I did not say I required a stick,” you counter, lightheartedly bumping your shoulder against his while you make your way back into the manor. He merely smiles, a rare, genuine smile. “Though, I would like to apologize for my brash observations.” 

“You are forgiven.”

“Thank you,” you exhale, following him to the refreshments table.

“And…”

“Nevermind,” you backtrack, but he continues nonetheless.

“As reparation for insinuating that I act like an abused animal–”

“Which you do,” you retort quietly and he chuckles, shaking his head. 

“Next week, you will accompany me in receiving a visiting ally prince,” he says. “As it would be dreadfully boring to do alone and you, thankfully, bruised my ego, I will be dragging you with me on his guided tour of the kingdom’s market district.” 

“Must I really attend?”

“Who’s acting like the kicked dog now?” He smirks and you have no choice but to go along with his plan. Now, after several rounds of beating his royal ass in poker, it was time for you to leave and prepare for the social night between the Takami and Todoroki kingdoms. 

if you enjoy my writing and would like to support me, you can buy me a coffee on my ko-fi! you can also check out my full masterlist here :)

[fakeuwus]

GUILTY CONSCIENCE | sim jaeyun

now playing ☾⋆⁺₊🎧✩°｡ guilty conscience by 070 shake

⁺ ⋆˚ genre: idol!jake x nonidol/femreader, just angst man am i sorry, established relationship

⁺ ⋆˚ warnings: lowercase intended, cursing, being drunk, infidelity, gaslighting(?), baby is used as a nickname, one suggestive text, jay is mentioned BRIEFLY

⁺ ⋆˚ word count: ~1.2k

⁺ ⋆˚ message from nic: i know i already did a piece ab cheating but all of my works are inspired by songs or i try to connect them to a song,,, i just feel it sets the tone of the story and its fun to connect a story to a song!! and since this song is one of my favs atm i HAD to write ab it. i definitely recommend u guys listen to the song while reading or even listen to it after. kinda ironic how cheating is one of my pet peeves (i fr despise it sm dont get me started) yet here i am writing ab it lmao. i promise i'll write something more lighthearted and/or anything that isn't angst soon LOL. but hope y'all enjoy and feedback is always appreciated!

"5 AM when i walked in, could not believe what i saw"

yn: JAKEY JAKE JAKEY pleaseee come tk the club rn i habent seen u since u got nack :(

jake chuckles at the message as he reads it. he glances over at the clock that reads 4:38 AM. he knows that clubs in korea don’t close until 8 but god damn how are you still partying with your friends this late? he figures that you must’ve had a little too much to drink and your party animals for friends don’t help at all.

jake: ik baby but we had schedules right when we landed and im so tired… how are u even still there rn???

yn: TOO MICJ FUN :D

yn: COME HAVE FUN WITH ME BABY ;)

jake: u make it rlly hard to say no to u

jake: ill be there soon<3

jake sighs as he rises from his bed, making sure not to wake jay who’s fast asleep. he envies how jay can be sleeping so peacefully when jake is experiencing the worst jet lag of his life. you being out at 4 in the morning and his racing mind doesn't help him try to get some shut eye either.

he dresses quickly, making sure it's quiet when he exits the dorms. it’s not his finest fashion moment but he could care less about what he looks like. he’s only going out to see you and to possibly save you from whatever crazy antics you and the girls are up to.

jake isn’t going to lie when he says he hasn’t made the best effort to see you after getting back from tour. but he also didn’t lie when he said his schedule was super jam packed these days. he should’ve immediately ran to you as soon as he landed but he just didn’t have it in him. guilt gnawed away at his heart as he hailed a cab to lead him to the club you were having the time of your life at.

jake enters the back of the club smoothly without drawing any attention. thankfully your friends secured a vip table upstairs in a secluded area, making it easy for clubgoers to not notice that an idol was going to a club at godforsaken hours.

approaching the table he sees you right away. it’s not hard to spot your beautiful red dress, hugging every curve on your body. your long hair flows as you sway your hips back and forth. jake smiles to himself. how did he manage to bag the most gorgeous girl in all of seoul, korea? it was clear you were having way too much fun, giggling and dancing with your friends and-

he quietly gasps. the scene before him makes him halt in his tracks. it was like time stopped and the flashing lights began to blind his vision. his heart rate slowed and his palms were becoming clammy.

maybe he was mistaken. there was no way you would do this to him, he thinks. but there you were cuddled up next to a man, drunk out of your mind. jake can't stand another minute watching you and the mysterious person grind up against one another.

in a blinded rage he rushes towards the guy and pushes him away from you with all of his power. “GET THE FUCK OFF MY GIRL!” you shriek and the guy stumbles backwards sending a few drinks flying off of a nearby table. “YOU MIND TO TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE YN?!”

your mouth is agape and your mind is scrambling to figure out what to say. you know you can’t explain how you were practically dry humping a stranger, too shocked and the alcohol still strong in your system. you're struggling to say something, anything to try to make things right.

“and you,” jake turns and gets too close to the man’s face. “she’s clearly too inebriated to make the right decisions. how DARE you take advantage of her like that?!” you’re confused as to why he’s flipping the script and blaming the stranger but jake rips you away from everyone too fast for you to think another second. you stumble as you’re dragged away to a dark corner.

the two of you are standing in awkward silence, no one daring to say a word. your eyes are looking everywhere but jake. you’re too afraid to see what kind of expression his face has. “jake i-” “no. you don’t get to speak right now. there’s nothing you could say to justify what i just saw.”

ragged breaths begin to come out of your mouth and your chest is tightening. “jake please baby i just- i was so drunk and these guys came up to us and…” your sentence trails off, every word you’re saying just sounds so ridiculous at the moment. he’s right. you couldn’t say anything to excuse your wrongful actions.

“and to think i came here at fuck ass o’ clock just to come and see you. i’ve barely gotten an ounce of sleep these days but i gave that up to come because you were BEGGING for me to be here.” his voice is angry and you know he has every right to be screaming at you. at this point tears are threatening to spill from both of your guys’ eyes. “jake… i know i know and i’m so sorry i swear nothing like that-”

“NO. no just no,” he pauses carefully choosing the words he’s about to say next. “you’re right. there won’t be a next time… we’re done.” the tears that brimmed your lashes are now falling. the alcohol that once ran through you is now gone. you move to grab his hand but he takes a step back. the distance between you two grows larger and he seems out of reach.

“jake please we can work this out! please don’t leave me because of this.” your pleas are ringing in his ears but he ignores them. “we can’t come back from this yn. how could you think i’d ever trust you from now on?! don’t contact me ever. have a nice life.” the loud music pounds on the walls just like your heart is in your chest. you’re left alone sobbing, wondering how you managed to fuck up the best relationship you’ve ever had.

jake stumbles out of the club, trying to clutch onto anything to help him out. the fresh breeze of the night blows onto his face and helps him regain his breath. he struggles to get his thoughts together as he walks down the sidewalk back to the dorms.

maybe he was too harsh with the way he spoke to you but he knew it had to be done. seeing you cling onto someone that wasn't him was his ticket out. he knows that you're absolutely going to be broken for awhile but you'll be okay, right? he knows that you're going to blame yourself for this for who knows how long but you're going to be fine in the end, right?

he convinces himself that it's better you than him because now,

he'll never have to admit what he was doing while he was away from you on tour.

"i caught you but you never caught me, i was sitting here waiting on karma, there goes my guilty conscience."

© fakeuwus 2023 do not repost, translate, or plagiarize

[dickinfectionbez]

“why won't you touch my scar?”

Marc lay on his side, a leg between Marco's as they basked in each other's presence. It was one of the rare moments where the pair could be together, hidden away in a small piece of Italy. Marco froze, thumb no longer stroking Marc's cheekbone. He shifted, pulling the blanket higher to cover his bare shoulder.

Marco didn't want to say the real reason. He didn't want to burst the bubble he made for himself, just incase Marc would fly away as soon as it popped. Marc was under his fingertips and if he mentioned Valentino, who knows where he would run off to. They hadn't labelled whatever they had going on, Marc not wanting the pressure while Marco would do anything to be near him. He doesn't want to hurt Marc like he was hurt before.

Marc watched the internal war waging inside Marco's mind. A pang of guilt rushed through him as he smoothed the space between Bez's eyebrows with two fingers. Marco's eyes softened as he clasped Marc's hand, pressing a kiss to his palm. Marc smiled as Marco shrugged his shoulders, "I don't know. Prefer your face I guess." Marc knew he was lying but chose to laugh at Marco's lame excuse for a joke. They'd talk later, fight even but right now the bed was warm and Marco's skin was soft against his.

Bez gently nudged Marc onto his back, hovering over him, nearly straddling his waist. His arms caged Marc's head as he leaned down to press a kiss to the base of Marc's scar. Bez trailed up, nose pressed firmly to scar tissue as he pressed open-mouth kisses up the length of the scar, up his arm and onto his neck, sucking on the tender skin. Marc moaned, arms wrapping around Bez's toned back.

Marco pulled away, flopping onto Marc with a laugh. Marc listened to Bez's laugh, it sounded like windchimes in the spring breeze. He wanted to bottle it up and keep it next to his heart. They lay in comfortable silence, punctuated by a kiss and a laugh. Marco fell asleep listening to Marc's heartbeat thump under his ear as Marc fell asleep to the rise and fall of Bez's chest.

[heyitsspiders]

Lucifer x Transmasc! Reader - Falling for the Fallen Angel - Chapter 6

Bow Chicka Bow Bow

Lucifer teases you throughout the day before giving you what you asked for.

Smut

Your eyes lit up as you rushed forward, your arms wrapping around his form and nestling your head against his chest, “That’s amazing!” 

He chuckled as he rested his hands on your back, “I know! I’ve been dying to tell you but I wanted to keep it a surprise until my room was done.” You could hear the smile in his voice.

You peered up at him, “ That’s what you and Charlie have been talking about? And to think, Alastor tried to get me to make a deal with him for that!” You laughed.

Lucifer stiffened and pulled you away from him, his hands gripping your shoulders as his yellow eyes bore into you, “he tried to do what.”

“He tried to get me to make a deal with him in exchange for what you had been talking about. When I declined he warned me about the friendships I was making,” you explained. You hadn’t told anyone else this as you were a little embarrassed at how badly you wanted to know their secret. As you spoke Lucifer’s eyes sharpened. You gulped. Were you not supposed to say that?

“Oh that piece of shit,” He growled and started off to the door, practically flying off the bed. “I’ll show that radio creep who he’s fucking with.” 

You jolted after him, grabbing his hand, “Woah, Dear, it’s okay!” Look, you and Alastor didn’t get along that well but you didn’t want him dead!

He tried to yank his hand away but you held firm. He was clearly holding back as he could have easily thrown you to the other side of Hell, “No it isn’t! He tried to steal my lover’s soul! That isn’t something he gets to do and get away with!” 

Your mind pushed away what he was saying. You had more important things to deal with right now, like stopping this father from destroying one of his daughter’s friends. You were tempted to let go of his hand and let him go forward with his plan but the image of Charlie’s distraught face flashed in your mind and your grip tightened.

You looked at him sternly, “how are you going to explain killing him to Charlie?”

He paused, whatever he was going to say dying in his throat. You continued, “yeah sure, he tried to take my soul but Charlie believes in redemption. Do you really think killing him would do any good?”

Lucifer was quiet for a while before he sighed, his muscles relaxing as he no longer fought your grip. You tugged him towards you, dragging him into a hug. He returned the hug, grumbling something about “that stupid fucking deer” .  You softly chuckled as you gently kissed his cheek. As the two of you stood, rocking slightly in each other's embrace, it finally clicked what he had said. 

Lover. 

He called you his lover .

Your cheeks heated as you thought about it more. Yeah, the two of you made out and were lovey dovey with each other but he considered the two of you as lovers. You had hoped he would but you never wanted to bring it up, you were too scared he’d laugh at you. You knew he would never do that but that didn’t stop your fear from festering inside you. 

“Lover?” You whispered to him, holding him tighter.

“Mhm,” he hummed proudly. He titled his head to make eye contact with you, faint hunger sparkled in his eyes as his eyes began trailing down your face.

Your heart picked up speed and Lucifer grinned, he could hear and feel as your heart pounded in your chest. One of his hands held the back of your head as he moved his mouth to the crook of your neck. His teeth grazed your skin, heat blooming throughout your body. You could feel his lips turn up in a smile as his tongue slid out and began gently tracing your collarbone. You moved your hand to your mouth as Lucifer moved you against the wall, his tongue continuing to explore your upper torso. 

Once Lucifer got his fill he began to press gentle, hungry kisses along your neck, your eyes rolled with pleasure. Your free hand gripped the back of his vest and his kisses turned to biting. He nestled his head against your neck, biting down harder than previously. You sharply inhaled as he sucked on your skin, his teeth still buried in your neck as the two of you slid down against the wall and landed on the floor. Your hands clawed at his clothes back, you could feel Lucifer smile against you. 

He pulled back, licking his lips as he looked at you. You were breathless as you panted, your mind fuzzy. He smirked at you and wiped his mouth of any saliva that had fallen down his chin. He eyed you with half-lidded eyes as he.. Stood up? 

Lucifer rested his hands on his hips as he looked down at you, puffing out his chest slightly. “Well, it seems like it is time for bed,” he said nonchalantly, looking at his non-existent watch.

You stared at him, shocked. No way he was going to leave you like this. “Wh- what? You’re.. Going to bed?” You stammered. You were a mess on the floor, your heart still pounding in your ears. 

He shrugged, “Yeah, why not?” He said, his yellow eyes staring smugly at you.

You sputtered out some noises that were supposed to be words but nothing made sense. He leaned over and moved his hand under your chin, making you look at him.

“Don’t worry, Darling. We will continue this tomorrow,” he said with a sharp smile. He kissed your head softly, “Goodnight, dear. Rest well, you’ll need it.”

You practically melted into the floor as he let go and walked over to the door. He grabbed the handle, the door creaking as it opened. Lucifer gave you one final grin as he walked out, the door clicking behind him. 

You barely slept last night, despite being warned. How were you supposed to sleep after that? He can’t just make you a mess, desperate for more, and then leave you! 

Well, you guess he can, considering that is exactly what he did. All you did last night was shake with anticipation and desire, your mind wide awake even as you tried to fall asleep. It was futile, though, as you knew you already were fully awake and had no chance of falling asleep. When your alarm clock rang you were quick to turn it off. You both did and didn’t want it to be morning. 

On one hand, you really wanted to see what Lucifer had planned. On the other, you had barely slept and you had a feeling the fallen angel was going to destroy you. You sighed and rubbed your tired eyes as you slung your legs over the side of the bed. You pushed yourself off the bed and walked over to your bathroom. You felt pretty good today, other than being sleep deprived and you were tired of feeling useless, no more off days. 

You showered, the warm water waking you up, and brushed your teeth. You looked at yourself in the mirror and flexed your wings. Your torn wing looked better than it did yesterday, in a few more days you’d be able to fly. Maybe you could get flying lessons from Lucifer. Once you were dry enough you tugged on your clean uniform and walked out your room. 

You covered your mouth as you yawned, walking into the kitchen bumping into Lucifer. 

“Shit!” You exclaimed before apologizing, “Sorry, didn’t see you there.”

“Ha ha,” He dryly laughed, “haven’t heard that one before.”

“That’s not- I didn’t-” You stammered before giving up, “Why are you in here?”

“I’m here to help you!” He smiled. He was still not wearing his overcoat with his sleeves rolled up, showing off his dark forearms that laid underneath. His hat was also missing which allowed his slicked back blonde hair to be seen.

“What?” 

“I didn’t think it was that hard of a concept to grasp,” he teased. “I’m here to help you make breakfast.”

“No no, I got that,” You roll your eyes playfully. “I meant, why are you helping me? This is my job, I can handle it.”

“Oh, I’m well aware, I’ve tasted your cooking before.” He responded with a grin, “I’m just making sure you don’t get too tired! I don’t want you exhausted before tonight.”

Your face felt like the surface of the Sun as you just merely nodded. Words were not working for you. You walked over to this week’s schedule. Seems this morning you were making a relatively easy breakfast; waffles topped with blueberries, strawberries and whipped cream with a side of  chocolate scones and bacon. Easy enough. 

“Alright, well, if you’re helping me this morning can you start on the bacon?” You asked as you reached for the all-purpose flour and salt. 

He nodded and grabbed the bacon out of the fridge, setting the package on the counter next to the stove. Lucifer bent down and grabbed a frying pan from one of the lower cabinets before straightening his back and setting it atop a burner. You turned away and grabbed the other ingredients for the waffles and you could hear the pieces of pork begin to sizzle against the hot pan. 

Eventually you had the batter and poured a small portion of it into a waffle iron. Lucifer had finished the bacon and you asked him to start on the scones, and he agreed. While the first waffle cooked you went to the fridge and grabbed the berries before running them under the faucet. The light on the waffle maker flashed green and you set the berries down and carefully placed the first waffle onto a plate you had set next to it.

You continued to make the waffles and Lucifer grabbed the cocoa powder, baking powder and other needed ingredients for the scones. You watched as he combined the dry ingredients before adding the butter. It was mesmerizing to watch him work around the kitchen. You may have been the hotel chef, but damn. The efficiency and grace of this man made you almost not notice the flashing green light. You mumbled an “oh shit” before plating another waffle.

The two of you finished up breakfast fairly quickly since there were two of you and Lucifer helped you set the table. You set out the plates and glasses as he neatly placed the utensils. Once everything was set up you leaned out the dining room doors.

“Breakfast!” You called. You could hear the conversations quiet down and grow once more, this time accompanied by the echoing of footsteps. 

As the group got closer you could make out their conversation.

“I’m starved!” You heard Angel complain.

“Would ya’ quit your whining? You’re about to eat,” Husk said in his usual gruff tone, a small smile forming on his lips.

You held open the door for them as they entered, flashing them a smile. Charlie was towards the back of the group. She stopped next to you, her eyes were glossy like she was about to start crying. You closed the door to the dining room so you could talk to her.

“Are you-” You were cut off as she hugged you, sniffling.

She pulled away and wiped her eyes, “I’m just- I’m just so happy to have extra help around here. I know I have the other helping but you came to me and offered . And, it just means so much to me.” She gave you another quick hug.

You smiled warmly at her, patting her back, “I’m glad you’ve allowed me to help you achieve your dream.”

Charlie shifted in your embrace, sniffling once more, “What if- What if this doesn’t work?”

You pulled her away and held her shoulders gently, “Charlie, you have worked so hard on this hotel, there is no way it won’t work!” 

She opens her mouth to say something but you cut her off, “And even if it doesn’t, even if Heaven doesn’t allow sinners to be redeemed, it will still make Hell a better place. And I am so proud of you.” 

As you spoke her eyes welled with tears once more and embraced you for the third time. Ever since you started dating Lucifer, you felt way closer to Charlie, as if she were your child as well. Of course, you’d never force her to view you that way. You hoped you weren’t making Charlie uncomfortable or making her feel like you were wrecking their already broken family more. But by the way she confided in you and how we reacted to your help, you figured things would be alright.

 You gave her a quick squeeze before letting her go and opening the doors. Everyone else was eating, except Lucifer, who had been quietly looking for you. He found your eyes and then looked at Charlie, who was wiping away her tears once more as she sat down. Lucifer walked up to you.

“Is everything alright?” Lucifer asked, worry coating his every word.

You nodded, “She was thanking me for working here.”

His eyes now held pride as he smiled, “That’s my girl.” He turned to look over at her, admiration and joy flowed over every inch of his being. 

The pride Lucifer held for his daughter was adorable. He was so proud of her, even if he was bad at showing it. You set a hand on one of his shoulders, smiling at him. He placed one of his own hands on yours, squeezing your hand as he continued to watch his daughter and her friends chat over breakfast.

The rest of the day went by uneventfully. Well, it was other than the teasing Lucifer did to you. As you were cleaning the dishes from breakfast he came up behind you, resting his head on your shoulder and wrapping his arms around your waist. He’d kiss your neck softly, mumbling words you couldn’t quite understand into your skin and when you’d ask him to repeat what he said he'd just grin at you, saying something like “you’ll find out later.” Which, while hot, would be quite ominous if you didn’t have a general idea of what he was going to do. 

You couldn’t think about it for long, otherwise you’d turn into mush and wouldn’t be able to perform your job. Your face basically never stopped burning as the day progressed. You avoided everyone, especially Angel. He’d know exactly what was up if he took one good look at you. You were never lonely, though, as Lucifer would be right there, smiling at you. 

At one point the two of you were in your room, sitting on your bed. You quietly hoped and wished he’d hurry up and do what he said he would. However, any time you hinted at it, he’d look at you and feign ignorance and then laugh as you’d get flustered.

“I know it’s hard for you to wait, my darling,” he’d coo, placing a hand on your cheek as he grinned. “After dinner, wouldn’t want anyone to hear.”

Finally, after hours of waiting, dinner came and went without any problems. Once everyone finished up and you said your goodnights as they walked out the door. You closed the dining room doors, your entire body heating up as Lucifer smirked knowingly at you. You felt his gaze on you as you did your best to clean up in a quick manner. You just wanted to be done as fast as possible, you wanted to be out of the kitchen. Worst part was Lucifer didn’t even help, he just watched as he leaned against the wall, his smug grin never wavering. 

You’d never cleaned the kitchen faster than you had that night. Once the plates and glasses were in the correct cabinets and the utensils in their drawers, Lucifer walked over and tugged you through a portal. The place was unfamiliar as you looked around. There was a lavish bed, a small table on either side. A few shelves lined the wall, various ducks occupying them. There was also a workbench against one of the walls, a family portrait of Lucifer, Charlie and who you assumed to be Charlie’s mother hung above it. There was a window on the other side, you had to be in the hotel still as you could see the city from a nearby window.

“Welcome to my room,” Lucifer said, answering your question.

Ah, that explained the ducks and photo. You were snapped back into reality as Lucifer pressed you against the wall. He nibbled on your neck before moving his head up.

“Are you sure you want this?” He whispered, his eyes sincere and they locked onto yours. 

You nodded, “Yes, I’m sure.”

He wasted no further time as he pressed his lips against yours, your tongues dancing in each other’s mouth. His clawed hands began to unbutton your uniform and it was clear it was taking a lot in him to not tear it off of you. He eventually got it off, leaving your chest exposed to him. He broke away from the kiss and picked you up, laying you on his plush, comfortable bed. He grinned down at you as he stood at the end of the bed. His fingers trailed down your chest and to your waist, his claws tugging at the waistband of your pants. Lucifer gingerly unzipped your pants before pulling them off of you along with your underwear, grinning down at what laid before him. 

With a swift motion he was shirtless, revealing his thin form that was faintly muscular. He crawled on top of you, his eyes hungry as he locked eyes with you. As his hips neared yours, you could feel the bulge of his pants grow and you couldn’t help yourself from thrusting your hips upwards against it. Lucifer sharply inhaled before lowering his mouth against your chest, running his tongue along every crevice he could reach, memorizing how each and every part of you tasted. 

Your eyes rolled back and you bucked your hips against his once more. Lucifer chuckled as he lifted his head from his exploration, “So needy..” 

You melted from his words and he continued exploring. His tongue retreated back into his mouth and was replaced by his teeth as they pierced your skin and you couldn’t stop the moan from escaping your mouth. Your noises only fed into his hunger for you as he traveled back up your body, leaving a trail of bites in his wake. Your fingers dug into his back as he continued.

Lucifer pulled away from your body, peering down and smiling at his artwork. His eyes flicked back up to you as he slowly began to unzip his own pants. Your eyes darted back and forth to his hand and his eyes until he was finally fully revealed. 

Lucifer grabbed your waist firmly as he lined himself up before thrusting in harshly. You screamed his name as he pounded you into his mattress. He was hitting every pleasurable spot inside you and you were mush in his hands as he went in and out. The bed rocked with each powerful thrust Lucifer’s hips did against yours. You could feel yourself near climax already. 

He continued to fuck you into oblivion, soft grunts and moans escaping his lips, which only aided in pushing you over the edge as your muscles tensed and finished. But Lucifer wasn’t done as he continued to rock the bed with you, his pace quickening randomly to break the rhythm he had going to catch you off guard. His name was all you could say in between moans and screams of pleasure. It wasn’t long until you neared a second climax as Lucifer’s movements became desperate. He thrusted quicker and with each sound of skin against skin you drew nearer. Lucifer let out a loud moan as warmth bloomed in your stomach as the two of you finished.

Lucifer looked at you lovingly as he panted. Sweat coated both of your bodies as Lucifer carefully pulled out. Lucifer leaned forward carefully, kissing you gently on the lips before he retreated to the bathroom. You caught your breath and you could hear water start running as Lucifer started the bath. While his exhaustion had weakened him, his weak state was well strong enough to carry you to the bathroom, in which he gently set you in the warm water. He slid into the tub as well and sat next to you as one of his arms wrapped around you. 

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence in the bath, the warm water easing your muscles and washing off the sweat. Lucifer clung to your side, never once moving without somehow touching you. As the water peacefully lapped at the side of the tub, you rested your head on Lucifer’s chest, his heartbeat lulling you to sleep.

[wereh0gz]

Corrupted - Oneshot (?)

Final Horizon's ending, but things go very, very wrong.

This au is driving me insane enough to get me back into writing fanfic after months of not writing. Might do more maybe idk.

Anyways. Woe corrupted au be upon ye.

Word count: 1697

The End looms over Ouranos island, its overwhelming presence crushing those below it. The Titan floats before it, beaten and powerless, yet kept up by its invisible puppet strings. A golden star glimmers defiantly, his piercing blue eyes staring death itself down.

"Sonic! It's now or never!" Eggman calls out, readying the rifle stolen from the Titan.

Sonic quickly flies into its giant barrel, focusing his power, ready to unleash it and end this nightmare once and for all.

"Sorry, Master King," Sonic says as he turns to face his enemy, "Looks like I'm going all-out after all."

He closes his eyes, tapping into the cyber-energy he kept locked away per the Koco's advice. It tingles in the tips of his fingers like electricity, spreading to his palms, up his arms, to the rest of his body. He shakes uncontrollably, power surging through his very veins, burning, corrupting.

No, wait, this isn't right. This isn't–

He yells out, pain consuming his entire being like a raging wildfire as his body spasms. Noise floods his ears, his mind racing, thoughts turning into static as he feels something snap.

The chains break.

The rifle fires.

Everything goes white.

-

Tails, Amy, Knuckles, Eggman, and Sage all watch with bated breath as a blue spark shoots out of the rifle, flying sporadically towards the entity looming overhead. The blue bullet pierces it, causing it to explode into thousands of fragments, raining pieces of heaven over the isles as the hellish red sky fades to a pleasant blue dawn, and the Titan falls dead onto the marshy battlefield.

The blue spark falls with the rest of the glimmering stars, crashing like a meteor, leaving a crater on the ground and burning the grass around him.

Now free of their corruption and back in physical forms, Amy, Tails, and Knuckles rush after their fallen friend, calling his name worriedly. They freeze at the crater's edge when their eyes land on Sonic, shaking as he slowly pushes himself up, eyes unfocused, growling and baring his teeth. His body is consumed by glowing cyan corruption shifting and flashing like pixels on a broken screen.

"Sonic?" Tails mutters, reaching out to him.

Sonic's head rises, his eyes darting from place to place before stopping at Tails, a black spiral staring deep into his very soul.

"Watch out!" Knuckles exclaimed, pushing Tails and Amy out of the way as Sonic lashes out, snarling and lunging at them.

Sonic knocks Knuckles down, pinning him to the ground.

"What the hell?! What's gotten into you?!" Knuckles kicks him off, sending him flying into a nearby tree. Sonic screams out in pain as he collides and falls to the ground.

"Tails, what's going on…?" Amy asked while summoning her Piko Piko Hammer.

"I-I don't know…" he stammered, "Maybe… maybe he couldn't handle all that power after all..."

Knuckles pushes himself up. "Whatever's happened to him, we gotta snap him out of it!"

Before they can do anything, however, Sonic disappears in a flash of blue, leaving a shockwave that knocks the three to the ground, and burnt grass in his wake. When they come to their senses, Sonic is nowhere to be seen, but explosions boom in the distance.

Eggman descends in his Eggmobile, followed by Sage floating next to him. There's a grim look on his face.

"Foolish hedgehog," he said, "he got in over his head and lost all control. Should've known not to take that kind of power lightly."

"This… out of my infinite calculations, this is the worst-case scenario." Sage shook her head. "He's been completely corrupted. If he's in this form for too long, he will–"

"No!" Tails interrupted, "I am not losing my brother to this!" He looks up to her, brows furrowed and a fire burning in his eyes. "Sage! You can track his movements, right?"

"Yes."

"You!" He looks to Eggman, who's scowling, "You're going to help us catch him!"

Eggman scoffs. "And what makes you think I'll help you?"

"Well, Sonic could come back at any moment, and, in this state, it's very likely he'll send you into orbit with zero hesitation the moment he sees you," Tails threatened, "plus, you're the only one with any tech on hand that could help us catch him. So either you help us get him under control, or he ends you along with us and the rest of the island."

"Tch– oh, fine!" Eggman grumbled, "I'll do it, but don't you dare think I'll ever help you again. This is the last time, got it?"

"Hmph." Tails glared at him, earning him a glare back.

Another explosion reverberates nearby, followed by Sonic screaming, catching everyone's attention.

"If my simulations are correct…" Sage began, "It should be possible to repurpose one of father's energy generators to siphon the Chaos and cyber energy out of him. But doing so comes at the risk of his life." Eggman seems to smile at that last sentence.

"Guys, I don't think we have much time left! H-how are we supposed to catch him like this?" Amy asked, gripping her hammer tightly.

Tails' heart drops, but he shakes his head. "It's worth a shot. It's not like we have any other options." Tails turns to Amy and Knuckles. "We're going to distract him while Eggman gets whatever he needs to catch him and bring him back to us. We don't have any time to waste, so let's go!"

Amy and Knuckles nod, and with that, the three set off after Sonic, following Sage's lead while Eggman goes in search for the necessary pieces to bring him down.

-

Noise. Too much. Hurts. It hurts. Head hurts. Burning. Too much noise. It hurts. It burns. It–

"You think you can escape the inevitable, mortal?"

…?

"Fool. Don't think you have bested me simply because you have destroyed my physical form. You cannot kill me, for I am infinite."

…!

"Your arrogance shall be your End."

-

Sonic's screams echo throughout Ouranos, he screams until his voice cracks and gives out. The pain, the burning, he can't take it. Can't think. His heart pounds in his chest as his form flickers red. He can't stop moving. He can't.

It hurts. It hurts. It hurts.

"There!" Sage said, pointing at Sonic as the rest caught up to her. "He's becoming more unstable! We need to act quickly!"

"Got it, kid!" Knuckles responded, "We'll take it from here!"

Knuckles immediately goes in for a punch, but Sonic is quick to dodge and retaliate, lunging at him and biting at his arm. Knuckles cries out in pain as he tries to shove him off.

Amy swoops in and, with a well-timed swing of her hammer, knocks Sonic away.

"I hate to do this to you, Sonic, but it's the only way!" Amy exclaims, but it falls upon deaf ears.

Sonic growls and pounces, bashing into her and knocking her down. Her hammer slips from her hands and falls just out of reach.

Before he can attack, Tails shoots him down with his arm cannon, the electric shot stunning him for a moment. "I'm sorry, Sonic," he muttered, seeing how much pain his brother was in.

Eggman and Sage approach from behind Tails, with some kind of device attached to the Eggmobile. A claw stretched out from the bottom of the floating vehicle, snatching Sonic while he's stunned.

He squirms and kicks and yells out in a vain attempt to free himself from the claw's iron grip. The device begins to rumble, and…

Sonic screams as the device drains him of his energy. Electricity sparks around him, the Emeralds finally leaving his body, flying off in different directions. It rips into his very being, tearing the corruption away from his body and into the Eggmobile's engines. The vehicle trembles, becoming overloaded with power.

"Father! Get out!" Sage cries.

Eggman hastily leaps out of the vehicle, barely landing on his feet, just as its internal mechanisms begin to explode under the immense pressure. The claw releases Sonic, letting him fall limp onto the grass as it crashes mere yards away and combusts.

"Sonic!" Tails, Amy, and Knuckles cry out as they rush to his side.

As he lies motionless on the grass, the voices of the crowd of five fade into merely distant echoes, until the burning pain that seared his body subsides, and everything goes quiet.

-

…

…

…

… It's dark.

His body felt so… drained. And heavy.

What's that noise? … Voices?

"I don't know how much longer I can keep him stable, father…" a younger, worried voice says, strangely sounding like it's coming out of a speaker.

"Just a little bit longer, Sage. The inhibitors are almost done… There!" an older voice says.

"Great! Now get them on, quick! Before the cyber corruption gets any worse!" a high-pitched voice exclaimed.

A hand gently lifts his left wrist, and something clicks around it. Then his right. Then around his ankles. Whatever it is feels heavy, and cold. But, somehow, the rest of his body begins to feel lighter.

"It's working! Oh my gosh, it's really working!"

"Pfft, of course it is! Thanks to my- and Sage's- ingenious design! And no thanks to you."

… What are they talking about…?

His eyes inch open, bright, white light filtering through, blinding him. He groans, closing his eyes again and rubbing them. His head hurt.

"Sonic? Are you okay? Can you hear me?" Another new voice spoke up.

"C'mon man, you've been out for almost two days now. Get up, sleepyhead!" Yet another new voice, deeper and rougher.

He feels a large hand push him. He jolts.

Suddenly, he found himself on the other side of the room, looking at five strangers that stared back at him with confused and worried looks on their strangely familiar faces. A fox with two tails, a pink hedgehog, a red echidna, and two humans, a giant clad in red with a dignified mustache, and a child that didn't look quite real.

His quills bristled. He felt his chest tighten, his breathing quicken, his hands trembling.

The fox looked at him with terrified blue eyes. "Sonic…?"

He tilts his head, confused.

Who's… Sonic?

[whitherwordswither]

01: Wrapped Up For Your Pleasure

I woke with the rising sun spilling in through the window, its languid golden glow spreading across my legs and climbing up my body. It felt like I was an insect floating up through a jar of grandma's sorghum. My mind was still creeping through a fog as I stretched, returning from a dreamland of nothing. The bed shifted with me, soft velvet leaves caressing my bare skin...

My eyes shot open, a weave of vines keeping me from flying off the bed in alarm. I opened my mouth but before any words could sputter out a larger leaf covered my lips. The faintest prick had me slapping a hand against the side of my neck. What was happening? What was this growth threatening to consume me? I stared up at a pair of venus flytraps. That was the nearest comparison my brain could conjure. They blinked down at me and just below them a mouth took shape and smiled. My nerves tried to send out panic signals but they immediately became lost and confused. Like tangled wires. Or the spaghetti bowl of roadways in Houston. Slowly, the frond against my lips slid away, my body shifting again without consent to be cradled against the giant plant creature.

"Good morning, sweetling~" It spoke. Plants didn't normally speak. Plants didn't normally have semi-recognizable features. Features that kept fluctuating, as if it were trying to find an adequate configuration that was pleasing to my eyes.

On another note, if it wasn't for the haze that was settling over my temporal lobe I might have wondered how this being was able to manifest speech at all. Instead, I found myself with the laziest grin spreading across my face as I sunk back in to the vines. They were so, so very soft. And almost right as I became aware of them, they danced across my bare flesh in a multitude of places, making me squirm in delight. Should they have felt that good? Where were my clothes, anyway? I felt a particular heat on my cheeks as a few leaves teased over my thighs, pressing in and writhing over my... o-oh! A gasp was pulled up out of my throat as the vines curled, coiled and squeezed.

I lay there, blushing and shivering. No, no, no. This was... something wasn't correct here. But it felt too good. I was unable to hold on to that train of thought. The living mass of foliage made a strange trilling noise. Was that a giggle? Was it amused? A distant part of me wanted to be upset. But that piece was lost to hastily growing void that was rushing to greet the rest of me with balmy enjoyment.

"I hope you slept well, little one. I did give you a tiny bit more of a Class A and E compound than I meant to last night. I apologize, but I thought it best... given your situation." The plant's words made sense. And they also didn't. All at once. It vaguely sounded like I had been drugged. The wherewithal to comprehend that was another facet I was losing.

"I've decided to start you off with a little more A this morning, as a treat. Are you enjoying yourself? I wish to cultivate euphoria within you. You deserve to feel good, my pet. We'll keep those nasty thoughts from ever wanting to root in your head ever again~" Their head tilted, flytraps closing and opening. Pearls of inky black peering from behind the lids, traveling down my body. I wasn't sure exactly what they were talking about. But I did like feeling good.

I was shifted in to a more upright position, straddling the plant's lap. It's vines held me so carefully. So gently. It made the prospect of fear a bewildering concept. Why should I be scared? A pair of fronds brushed over my scalp as the entity's eukaryote-esque tendrils continued to work up and down my erection. Did I just whimper? Whatever a Class A was... they needed to reconsider the amount they used. If it weren't for the hold they had on my body I would have probably been floating along the ceiling like a stranded balloon in some helium fueled parade of my own making. But also. They could do as they wished. They knew best, obviously. I mean. Why else would...

Fronds caressed my cheeks and brought that wicked-lovely mouth to my own. I only had half of a passing thought of being devoured. I suppose that wouldn't have been so bad in my current state. A damp warmth pushed itself past my lips. I registered it as almost spongy. Soft, like moss. The being held me tighter, beginning to gyrate against me as their ropey appendages increased in pace. My hips couldn't help but respond, rocking in to the writhing mass. Heat built up swiftly in my lower half, sparking throughout the rest of my body. Every fiber was burning. Yearning. My hands tangled in the plant's sides, groping for what, I didn't know. I found myself trying to pull them closer, to smother myself in their eagerly given pleasures.

Someone whined, though the sound was muffled by an earthy growth that wriggled further, dancing over a tongue. The sensations pushed me nearly out of my body in their intensity. That heat became a roiling fire. My muscles tensed as I whimpered again and held tight to the plant, thrusting in to the gripping vegetation. The heat boiled over, ripples of bliss shuddering down my spine.

"Oooohhh~ Goooood~ Yessss. Doesn't that feel wonderful?" A wash of vibrant plumeria blossomed in a cascade of color down the plant's body in reply to my orgasm. A heady floral fragrance assault my senses. Tender flowers kissed and cupped my shaft as it twitched and spurt its cloudy milk across that leafy green expanse. I spent I don't know how long, a few moments or minutes, drifting in a buzz of contentment. More vines moved and rearranged and I felt myself slumping forward, my head involuntarily turning and pressing against smooth plant-flesh. My entire existence was swimming in the dreamy pools of heaven itself. A voice of pure comfort tickled through my brain-space, lulling me to accept my foray in to further cognitive dissolution.

Enjoy every second, sweetling. You are mine.

And I shall be your kingdom.

Your home. Your haven.

Your everything~

I'm pretty sure I passed out after that.

[dangraccoon]

Preoccupied

Request for @6oceansofmoons

Hunter x Reader

Summary: Hunter just wants to see his partner, but isn’t happy about the situation he finds you in.

Warnings: extremely mild mentions of violent intentions, vague sexual references, mild language

Author’s Note: ah this was so much fun to write! I’m sorry it took me so long, darling, but I hope you enjoy your protective!Hunter 💛🤟

Hunter hated being busy when they’d get a chance to land on Coruscant. He could often be seen glancing at the nearest chrono whenever he wasn’t being directly spoken to as he went through the seemingly endless missions.

He was in the middle of a meeting with Commander Cody when his comm pinged.

“Hangar 14, darling” the simple comm from you read.

Maker, he thought as he became more impatient. He hadn’t seen you in over forty rotations and he was getting desperate. Holoimages of your smile just weren’t enough; he needed the real thing. He just missed you, damn it. Your smile, your laugh, those eyes you’d give him when you wanted to get him alone. He missed the way your fingertips were permanently stained with engine grime. He missed the way you interacted with his brothers; playing games with Wrecker, actually listening to Tech, making snarky remarks with Crosshair.

“Sergeant? Are you listening?” Cody questioned, bringing Hunter back to the present.

“Sorry, sir. I’m a little…distracted,” Hunter mumbled.

“That’s alright, vod,” Cody chuckled. “I have some plans with my cyare after this as well. We can pick this back up tomorrow afternoon.”

“You may want to hurry, Hunter, I heard the Wolfpack is docking in 14,” Cody gave Hunter a pat on the shoulder, a smirk and conspiratorial wink on his face as he left.

Hunter scoffed a little before rushing off to see you.

It had been far too long since he saw your beautiful face, and he couldn’t help the butterflies in his stomach. As he approached Hangar 14, he looked around, trying to find the source of your laughter.

And there you were. You looked so kriffing pretty, despite the way your messy hair and the oil and grease that smeared across your body from your repair work. He was so distracted, a blissful expression painting over his face, that he didn’t realize what you were laughing at to begin with.

Slowly, he noticed them, the various members of the Wolfpack standing around you, one of them - Sinker, he thinks - regaling you with some kind of epic tale, his hands flying about wildly. You were laughing, clearly amused by whatever story was being told, and laughing harder as Boost started to bicker with Sinker.

You got along so easily with everyone you met, a skill that Hunter himself was not particularly adept at, and it made his heart happy. But watching as the leader of the pack, Wolffe himself, inching closer to you as you paid attention to his squad, something stirred in him. It was unfamiliar and uncomfortable.

Hunter’s movements stilled as he watched. You didn’t seem upset, and he didn’t want to make a big deal out of nothing. He was probably just being overprotective like Crosshair always says.

But then he saw it. A quick brush against your arm and the way you tensed. The way your smile and laugh suddenly became a facade. It made his blood boil.

He was getting ready to charge the commander, and give him a piece of his mind, but instead your eyes caught his. Your smile widened, no longer polite, but purely, unapologetically joyful. You didn’t bother say a word to the men surrounding you as you began to rush towards the beautiful man waiting for you.

He caught you easily, lifting you by the waist and spinning you around. Your beautiful, wonderful, bewitching laugh bubbled up as you held your man close to you. Eventually, he brought you back down to the ground, smiling widely as you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Missed you,” you whispered, as he pressed his forehead against yours

A laugh from behind the pair of you caught your attention, and you both noticed an embarrassed looking Wolffe, ordering the rest of the pack to do ten laps around the hangar for laughing at him.

You laughed as well, but Hunter let out a low noise, one you had only heard in…other settings. You followed his line of sight, noticing that Wolffe was suddenly looking very nervous and Hunter’s smile had dropped as he narrowed his eyes and growled at the other man.

“Hunter,” you chided, breaking his concentration away from the commander and back to you.

“Yeah, cyare,” he grumbled. “I know.”

You chuckled, and rolled your eyes a little, pulling your hands back to rest on the sides of his head, pulling him into you, kissing him deeply.

Everything around the two of you faded away and you felt him relax into your arms.

Neither of you even noticed the whistle from Wrecker as the rest of the Batch entered the hangar.

It was only you and Hunter.

Thanks for reading! - Dang 💛🤟

Masterlist

Tag List & Request Form

Requests are OPEN

Tags: @writing-positivelyexisting @nekotaetae @lokigirlszendaya @get-wr3ckered @flowered-bicycles @jediknightjana @idoubleswearimawriter @lucyysthings @error6gendernotfound @unstable-kiwi @6oceansofmoons

[truths33k3r4]

CHAPTER 22 - Make Him Make Sense

‘ WHAT WAS HE THINKING. ‘

Leo hastily made his way through the hall, keeping his feet in a steady rhythm in order to balance out his racing mind.

‘ HOW CAN HE BE SO BLIND. ‘

His hands remained in tight fists swinging from side to side to keep up with his fast pace. The shaking still hadn’t stopped.

‘ If he were seven? Sure. Ten? Yeah, I guess- BUT SIXTEEN FREAKIN’ YEARS OLD???? ‘

A burning heat radiated from his heart and spread to his head.

‘ He’s never going to grow up. Not if he stays like THIS. ‘

Thanks to his brisk walking, Leo quickly found himself outside Sensei’s Study. His feet stopped.

‘ Maybe Sensei can knock some sense into him- Maybe SENSEI can NAIL IT THROUGH HIS SKULL why he should be more CAREFUL. ‘

Leo’s hand reached out and made contact with the door’s handle.

And then he froze.

He shut his eyes and took two deep breaths. ( The deepest he’s been able to manage all day. ) With his eyes shut, and his beating heart finally beginning to slow, Leo did his very best to think clearly instead of emotionally. He forced all his tense muscles to relax as best he could.

The burn in his heart was still very much present. It made him want to call out to Sensei to scold Raphael like back when they were kids. It wanted him to force his brother to take care of himself.

It wanted control.

There weren’t many things that made Leo angry. He actually prided himself with how calm he could appear to be when it came to more tense moments in their home: Arguments, physical fights between brothers, injuries… Normally, he’s able to keep his head on and focus as he works through whatever problem he’s facing.

But then..

..There were specific moments; Brief times when the rarity of his temper made an appearance. Usually it all began with little things:

His finger getting caught in the zipper of his jacket.

Getting interrupted while he tried to focus on doing his devotions in the morning.

Finding out Mikey ate all his leftover pizza even though he SPECIFICALLY WROTE “ DO NOT EAT! THIS IS LEO’S. THAT MEANS YOU, MIKEY“.

And then the final straw would happen. The last little cherry on top of a mound of stress and rising anger.

~

One time Mikey accidentally shattered Leo’s favorite mug. The one Sensei got him for passing one of his hardest tests in ninja training.

Leo had trained for weeks, practicing over and over, working himself till late at night so he would finally pass with flying colors. After he did pass, Sensei came home with a small box in his hands and handed it to Leo. Inside laid a dark blue mug with silver and gold accents swirled around the rim and handle. On its face was painted the words, “ Well done, my Son. “

And now the closest thing to a trophy of his success, as well as one of the rare gifts they would get from Sensei, laid in pieces strewn all over the floor.

It hurt.

It hurt a lot.

Mikey was only around seven or eight at the time. He was practicing cooking in the kitchen with Sensei and Don. In the chaos of trying to pull out a bowl to use for mixing cookie dough in, he mistakenly knocked off Leo’s prized mug.

When Leo had walked in, Mikey’s eyes almost immediately flooded with tears as he began scrambling to pick up all the sharp ceramic pieces. It didn’t even take a second before his tiny hand was bleeding.

Don came rushing to his side with a paper towel to wrap his hand in, as Sensei started saying something to Leo in a calm voice.

But Leo didn’t understand a word.

He just… stood there.

His mouth remained slightly ajar, while his brows creased in contemplation, trying to process what just happened.

He wanted to yell.

He wanted to scream at Mikey.

His wounded heart demanded justice for his loss. It would feel right to get compensation. It would feel right to let out all his anger and annoyance at his dumb little brother.

That thought made Leo literally take a stumbling step backwards.

At that moment Leo ran. There were just too many thoughts and feelings and emotions and he had TO GO. Rather run away, than say something he’d REALLY regret. And how much his chest burned with hatred ( FOR HIS LITTLE BROTHER ) proved to him he just couldn’t handle this right now.

So he ran to the one spot he knew would be safe and distant enough from his family.. Where he could cool off. Where he.. couldn’t hurt them.

As he sat on the cold wet ground in front of the ladder leading up to the surface, he tried to push aside all his horrible feelings.

The faint cold smell of fog and precipitation loomed in the air as the last drop of rain fell through the grate above his head.

The quiet drips of rain water trickling down the grate into the puddles added a somber tranquility to the dark place. As the raindrops fell and plinked onto the mirror-like face of the puddles, there came a light echo that would whisper through the tunnel. Somehow the darkness was peaceful. Not having much to look at really can help one’s mind become a silent haven. And when accompanied by the soft echoes of the raindrops, it can be the world’s most peaceful spot. There were times Leo would fall asleep there, lulled by the soft symphony of drips and whispers.

Leo really wanted this place to work its usual magic… LIKE NOW.. But before his mind could even be quieted, a whispering raspy voice spoke up next to his ear.

“ What are you doing? “

Leo absolutely hated the high pitched squeak that escaped his mouth. And judging by the burst of laughter from Raph, it was apparently loud enough to be heard…

“ - RAPH WHAT THE HECK!????!! ”

Leo felt his cheeks burn not only with embarrassment, but with that same rising anger. It still warmed the inside of his chest, and his mind was no where close to calm yet.

‘ How can I still be angry- it was a mug! A CUP!! How can something that SMALL get me so ANGRY?? ‘

Leo tried to fake as calm a voice as he could.

“ Raph, get outta here. I’m not in the mood. “

‘ I just gotta get him away- He’ll leave, I’ll calm the HECK down, and everything will be fine. ‘

“ Haha-he-ha haaaa…. Sheesh~ Sorry, drama queen. “

Leo could feel all his muscles tense.

“ RAPH- I’M WARNING YOU- BACK. OFF. “ Leo growled. He could feel his filter quickly slipping through his fingers as nothing but hatred and exasperation filled his mind.

“ Dude, what is going on?? What happened to you? Why are you being so- “

It happened too fast.

Leo couldn’t stop the flowing cascade of seething fury as he lunged at his brother.

..All over a flipping mug…

Raph gave a loud yelp as his head slammed into the moist brick ground, but that didn’t stop him from fighting back. The two brothers wrestled aimlessly, fists and feet flying. Both of the boys’ knees and elbows got scuffed and sliced into by the rough exterior of the bricks below. Leo landed a few blows on his brother’s face and shoulder as Raph tried to hold down Leo’s arms and hands.

“ DUDE WHAT’S GOING ON???! ARE YOU NUTS??! “

Leo’s answer found itself in the form of another low sharp growl. He could feel tears pricking the edges of his eyes as he let loose his temper.

Despite Raph’s smaller size compared to his brother, he still knew he had the advantage: Strategy.

One blow to his brother’s hard plastron caused Leo to grunt and press his injured hand to his side. Raph used that small distraction to kick Leo’s stomach to shove him off. In an instant, the roles were switched and Raph was now holding Leo down.

“ DUDE WHAT IS IT?? WHAT’S WRONG WITH YOU??! “

Leo thrashed underneath Raph’s weight.

“ ARE YOU OK?? “

His mind loudly rang with his temper filling every crevice of his thoughts. Nothing made sense. His vision blurred as if his brain told him it didn’t matter what he saw.

“ LEONARDO!! “

With one last effort to snap his brother back, Raph winded back his arm and slapped Leo square in the face.

The ringing stopped.

Leo’s chest hurt as he heaved shaky breaths. His throat burned from the shouts and growls. His body ached from the punches and wrestling.

And now, his head was finally allowing his mind to catch up to what his body was doing..

..to his brother.

Leo’s vision finally cleared as the blurry shapes crystalized into focus. Raph was looking down at him. His little brother’s right eye began swelling in shades of blue.

Leo’s burning tears swelled and ran over his face.

Raph.. didn’t know how to process this.

As Leo extinguished all the fight he had in him, going limp under his brother’s weight, he sobbed and turned his face away from Raph.

Raph remained on top of Leo with firm grips pinning down his brother’s arms. But as he felt Leo’s body soften and relax, he loosened his grip, eventually letting go and crawling off his older brother’s plastron. He sat down next to Leo’s left shoulder waiting in silence for when his big brother could breathe enough to speak..

“ I- I didn’t mean to- Raph I’m.. I’m so sorry- I’m hic I’m supposed to take care of- of you… And I- I hic I… - I HURT YOU. I’M SO SO SORRY. “

Leo’s voice came out shaky and dry from all the yelling, mixed with the wince of pain of all the emotions plaguing his young heart.

Raphael simply patted Leo’s head in response. ( A little roughly, but it was still appreciated. )

“ Uh….. there… there…. “ Raph whispered weakly as he continued to pat his brother’s head like a puppy. " It's just a black eye.. I get worse in training.... It's no big deal, dude. "

The tears in Leo’s eyes and the shame in his heart didn’t quench his brotherly instinct to laugh at his little brother’s sad excuse of comfort.

Leo returned to the present.

His fingers slowly let go of the Study’s handle.

‘ I didn’t make any sense to Raph back then.. ‘

Leo passed Sensei’s Study and began to walk to the Living Room.

‘ .. But he was still there for me..

So when he’s ready, I’ll be there for him. ‘

That's it for this chapter!! :) Man alive, it's nice to be back at this. :) I've missed writing... Thank you, guys, for being patient! Hopefully my next chapter won't take as long to post. :)

To God be the glory!

Masterpost <- PRIOR CHAPTER NEXT CHAPTER ->

[pinkblosmx]

Something Horrible

A/N: Got this idea from the scene where Tywin tells Cersei she has to have another arranged marriage. Bit of an AU where the rumours are about Cersei and her handmaiden so warning for homophobia. Apart from that it’s just Cersei’s handmaiden comforting her.

Cersei stormed down the halls of the castle, absolutely fuming, she kept replaying what just happened in her head and the words her father had said.

“You will do as I command and you will marry Loras Tyrell and put an end to the disgusting rumours about you once and for all.” The words were like venom to Cersei, so much that she pushed her bedchamber door open with such force that you thought it would fly off. Immediately you knew what happened at the meeting was not good news, you could see it on her face and the way she slammed the door shut with the same force she had opened it with before making her way over to her bed.

“How could he?!” She angrily cried out as she sat down, now alone with only you in the room she allowed herself to shed the tears she had been keeping in. You rush over to her side and without any hesitation you sit down next to her, wrapping your arms around her, allowing her to cry on your shoulder which she does.

All you can do is gently hold her and kiss her forehead as she cries, it’s not often you see Cersei this upset, most people would enjoy her suffering but it hurts your heart to see her like this. After a few minutes her crying slowly stops and you remove your arms from around her, bringing your hands up to her face to gently wipe away the remaining tears. You can now clearly see that her eyes are red and puffy from all that crying it does not help you can also see the path which her tears took down her cheeks, your face falls at the sight of her like this.

“What did he say?” You nervously ask, on one hand it was not your place or any of your business however on the other hand you wanted to know what that asshole of a father said that made the woman you love so miserable.

“That I have to marry Loras Tyrell.” Cersei’s words come out bitterly as she moves her head back a little, out of your touch almost as if she doesn’t want to indulge in it too much before looking down at the floor, all her confidence gone.

“You don’t have to, you can refuse. You’re more than capable of making your own decisions.” You say trying to help her get back to the confident Cersei you fell in love with as you hold one of her hands giving it a gentle squeeze.

“No this time I have to.” She tells you much to your unfortunate surprise, but you guess there’s something else she’s not telling you.

“Cersei what else did he say?” You ask, knowing full well you would not like the answer whatever it may be.

“He knows about the rumours of you and me.” Cersei answers and you freeze for a second, the rumours that she was referring to were the ones where you, Cersei’s loyal and ever so ready to please handmaiden had come out of her room at the hours of the late morning looking dishevelled to say the least, people will talk especially the castle staff and they say that Cersei is bedding her simple handmaiden. Of course both you and Cersei knew that was true but she made sure to get rid of anyone who simply thought it was true and spread the rumour, Cersei was certain that most of them were dealt with, that was up until the moment her father brought it up.

You were angry, if you were somebody in a higher position you would of gone to find Tywin and give him a good piece of your mind, to hell with the consequences but alas you weren’t. With a quiet deep breath you gently cup Cersei’s face in your hands making her gently look up at you, she does not tell you off for this or push you away but instead looks into your eyes.

“Even if you do marry Loras, I will always be your handmaiden and my loyalty will always be to you first.” You sincerely say with a small smile on your lips yet you realise if she does marry him, she will not have nearly the same relationship with you especially if her father expects her to bear children with the man. With that thought you feel a sting of jealousy in your heart, the idea of someone else even touching Cersei in such an intimate manner makes you feel sick to your stomach. Cersei sees your face fall again and frowns herself too.

“I do not want to marry him.” Cersei reaches her hands up to your face, softly cupping your cheeks in her soft hands “I will not have him or anyone try to take you from me.” Her tone is serious as she starts to regain her confidence once again and you can see an all too familiar dangerous glint in her eyes as you move your hands away from her face to place them over her own hands as you close your eyes leaning into her touch, savouring it.

[safflowerseason]

Hi! I've been reading BMTL again and I have quick q- in BMTL, how did Dan and Amy 'plan' their wedding? Was it a spur of the moment thing? Was it Dan or Amy's idea to do it during Jonah's announcement? :)

Hey! I'm so glad you are rereading and thank so much for sending in an ask! I love BMTL asks!

Dan and Amy's wedding is one of those things I made up in the super early days of writing--like literally when I was thinking of article scraps for that first chapter--and I knew I wanted their wedding to be very untraditional and kind of spontaneous...and then later I was like "sh*t, how does this actually work in practice." So I've spent a lot of time thinking about their wedding, haha.

The way it goes in my mind is that Dan and Amy (and Cassie) are on their way to court an eccentric lumber multi-millionaire in Maine who demands that people who visit him arrive in the most eco-conscious way possible (he's one of those rich people who get very rich off some exploitative industry and then feels "bad" about it)

So Dan and Amy are driving up in an electric car instead of flying and their car has some sort of malfunction (it's probably a Tesla ☠️) and they get stranded in some cute little touristy town on the coast of New Hampshire. The car can't be fixed quickly and they find themselves on the town's main street, feeling very annoyed and wondering what to do. Dan and Amy are in the middle of bickering, of course - maybe they're sitting on a bench in the town square or something. Dan takes a look at their surroundings and sort of processes how picturesque it all is, and then he looks at Amy and Cassie who are probably both ignoring him and has a genius idea that he and Amy should get married. It's partly driven from the fact that they are stuck and (unusually) don't have anything else to do in the moment, but also from the deep, abiding knowledge that even if they both drive him crazy, there's nobody he'd rather be stranded with anywhere than Amy and Cassie (plus, they've been "engaged" at this point for quite some time). He doesn't remember until later that Jonah is going to announce his presidential campaign on Youtube or whatever, but it's an extra cherry on top of the whole day.

So they are able to pull the whole thing together really quick - they get a marriage license and Dan sends Amy to the local shops to get a white dress and he rustles up a photographer and a ring and Amy gets a bouquet from the florist and voilà! They get married and take many photographs. Amy is relieved they get the whole thing done in an afternoon and also that she doesn't have to deal with her family, but of course she also finds it secretly romantic that Dan had the idea so spontaneously. Cassie enjoys getting to wear a white dress and tearing Amy's bouquet to pieces afterwards.

(I just looked at the first chapter and apparently I specified Portsmouth, NH as the place where they get married, which is not really a small town but probably feels small to cosmopolitan Dan. The Portsmouth courthouse is hideous though so they definitely do not get married there. Maybe Dan gets someone to marry them somewhere more picturesque...I could see him showing up at the local party headquarters and hounding some volunteers. Or maybe Portsmouth is where all the local reporters rush because they don't necessarily know where to go. Maybe I need to update that part of the chapter a bit, haha.)

also, right before they get married, Dan tells Amy he killed a dog. she's just relieved that he's not confessing to being a serial killer.

and they all lived happily ever after!

[dragonologist-writings]

Title: Midnight Black and Paris Green Fandom: Baldur's Gate 3 Rating: M Status: Ongoing (11/?) Characters: F!Tav, Shadowheart Ships: F!Tav/Shadowheart Additional Notes: Missing Scenes, Mutual Pining, Hurt/Comfort, Friends to Lovers, Eventual Mild Smut, Canon-Typical Themes Word Count: 28k Summary: Shadowheart isn't accustomed to placing her trust in other people. Neither is Naia. But these are interesting times, and stranger things have happened. (A loose re-telling of the game, with a focus on the Tav/Shadowheart romance)

read here on ao3

Chapter 1 below:

Shadowheart does not quite remember her capture, or the crash, or even the falling. She does not register any pain- only the harsh sunlight piercing through murky darkness as she comes to with a jolt. Fractured recollections trip over themselves in her memory, all culminating to push but one thing to the front of her mind: the artefact.

Her eyes fly open and her hands scramble desperately at her pockets. A shadow falls over the glaring sand, a voice mutters something she cannot hear, and instincts take over as Shadowheart realizes she is not alone. She rolls into a defensive crouch, ready to send off a blast of radiant magic.

But it is not an enemy who faces her now. It is the woman from the ship. The one who saved her.

That recognition is quite unfortunately followed by a flood of memories which make her stomach lurch and her skin crawl. The mindflayers. The nautiloid. The tadpole.

“Are you okay?” the woman asks in a low, halting voice, and another scene is triggered in Shadowheart’s hazy memory.

It was all madness by the time she awoke, madness and panic and distant noises of destruction. And she was trapped. All she could do was bang on the pod and scream for help, cursed with knowledge that help would likely never come.

But then the pod fell open. Shadowheart stumbled out, desperate with relief, only to find herself face to face with what she thought for a fleeting moment was another mindflayer.

She could not be blamed for the misconception; the creature before her was obscured in shadow save for two pinpricks of red burning in their eyes, glinting in the eerie light of the ship. But then the light shifted, and Shadowheart realized it was no mindflayer before her-

It was Naia. The name comes back in a rush, along with many other bits and pieces of recent days.

But where is the artefact?

Shadowheart turns away from the woman, scrambling again over her pockets and satchel. Only when she finally puts a hand to the cold metal does she allow herself a sigh of relief.

“I’m fine.” I have the artefact. I’m alive. I can still complete my mission.

The other woman does not comment on her behavior; she is rather distracted herself, as her gaze sweeps over the ruined landscape around them. Twisted metal, still burning, litters the beach they’ve landed upon.

“What in the hells happened to us?” Naia mutters. She turns her eyes back to Shadowheart, who has to hold back a shudder under that gaze. This is certainly the same tiefling from the ship: short gray horns sticking out above a mess of dark hair, pallid skin which looks a sickly grey in the sunlight, void-dark eyes with pupils rimmed in red that are still far too reminiscent of a mindflayer for comfort.

But she saved Shadowheart, and Shadowheart does not have time to be picky in her choice of help. The mindflayer has planted its tadpoles. Her time is slipping away as they speak. If she wants to make it back to Baldur’s Gate with her mind intact, she’s going to need every ounce of help she can get.

Thus marks the first day of Shadowheart’s tadpole infection, and of her partnership with the tiefling known as Naia Gwaelon.

It’s stumbling chance that leads Naia and Shadowheart to the ruins on that initial leg of their journey. The idyllic little beach they landed on is sorely lacking in supplies; whatever this place was before, it’s now all ruin and wreck and lifeless, luckless fishermen who got caught in the nautiloid’s debris. The heavy stone door is the first sign of real civilization they come across, and all it takes to enter is a few minutes of Naia stubbornly jamming at the lock with makeshift tools.

The inside of the structure offers no more cheer than the beach. What they’ve stumbled upon is clearly an old crypt, complete with rotting skeletons, booby-trapped caskets, and other such classics. Luckily, the offerings left for the dead include a small array of still-viable weapons and armor. Even more luckily, the crypt has apparently already been infiltrated by looters, and Shadowheart is able to hunt down a small stash of food and supplies.

Meanwhile, Naia busies herself hunting down things of another nature.

“Looking for anything in particular?” Shadowheart finally asks after watching the tiefling wander through rows upon rows of coffins with a look on her face which can only be described as reverent curiosity.

Naia’s answer is quiet and distracted, and Shadowheart only catches a few words. “Ancient magic…I don’t even recognize…still traces of magic preservation, but for what purpose?”

Shadowheart shakes her head, not bothering to ask again. Wizards.

It’s funny, in a way. Back on the nautiloid ship, the urgency of their situation meant there was little time for chatter. Then on the beach, with the panic subsided, Naia had seemed too dazed for conversation. Now she’s finally come alive again, and the only things she seems interested in speaking to are the dead.

Shadowheart doesn’t mind, though. She remembers, again and again, that Naia did save her, even though it would have been far easier for her to cut and run. What’s more, Shadowheart remembers the display of angry magic that cut through the mindflayer’s thralls on the nautiloid, and she knows this wizard is not one to be trifled with. Power like that, however odd, should not be squandered.

So Shadowheart allows Naia a few minutes of fascination. The tiefling mutters a few more observations, skittering around the ancient tomb with little grace, apparently having forgotten that Shadowheart is there at all. It’s an amusing sight, in its own way, and it provides the opportunity to rest for a bit in the cool shade, so there is no reason yet for Shadowheart to protest.

Not until Naia presses her hand against a sigil in the old stone wall, and a shimmering, sickly green light erupts in a wave that washes through the crypt. Shadowheart leaps back to her feet, pulling her mace into position just as the petrified bodies decorating the tomb spring to life.

To Naia’s credit, she faces the skeletons without so much as flinching. But it’s still a grueling encounter, especially given everything else both women are still recovering from. When the last skeleton finally collapses into dust at Naia’s feet, she collapses as well, slumping to her knees on the cold stone floor.

Shadowheart is at her side in an instant, holy healing at the ready. Naia tenses at her approach, but upon realizing her intentions allows herself to relax, if only by a fraction. At this point, Shadowheart cannot hold back a sigh as she guides the magic through Naia’ battered body.

“You just had to press the button, didn’t you?”

“The dead typically aren’t so easily offended,” Naia protests weakly. Even in her petulance, her words are curt and stiff. “These were guarding something. Look.”

Shadowheart follows her direction and, yes, there is an opening in the wall that wasn’t there before. And yes, Shadowheart would be lying if she said her interest hasn’t been piqued.

“Good eye. These holy temples are always full of valuable secrets. And after all that, this one had better be something special.” With that, Shadowheart finishes up her spell, scrutinizing Naia’s state as the magic fades from her fingertips. “Feeling better?”

“Somewhat,” Naia answers in a clipped tone. She’s scowling, but not at Shadowheart; as she lifts a hand to her temple, the source of her displeasure becomes obvious. “Better than should be expected, actually.”

“You mean you don’t feel as if tentacles are about to burst from your mouth?” Shadowheart asks. “Me too, funnily enough. But that doesn’t mean we can afford to rest on our laurels. Finding a healer must be our top priority.”

“Couldn't we rest just a little longer? With all those protections, this room should be a safe enough place. I don’t mean to hold us up. I know we need to move, but I-”

Naia’s words are cut off as she hisses in pain. Her hand twitches, fingers trembling, but she pulls away before Shadowheart can inspect her any further. Dark hair- almost violet in the dim light- hangs in her face, obscuring whatever expression is hiding in her scarlet-dotted eyes.

The last thing Shadowheart wishes is for paranoia to get the best of her…yet she cannot help but count back the time it took them to cover the beach and half these ruins. They are nearly twenty-four hours past their time of infection, and the sword hanging over their heads will only continue to lower. “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”

“My magic is drained,” Naia insists. “We already know looters have been rooting around here. If we get killed by them, or by another round of skeletons, our tadpoles won’t matter much at all. I just need a little time to recover.”

Bloody wizards, Shadowheart thinks with another sigh, but she nods. “Fine. I suppose I can’t complain too much. After all, you saved my life on board the ship. How can I do anything but sing your praises?”

The words come out somewhere in between sardonic and sincere, but Naia nods along, her gaze once again taking on that look of distant distraction.

“I keep thinking about that, actually. The ship. Why it took us. I can’t figure it out.”

“It’s how the vile creatures reproduce.”

“I am acutely aware. But do they always take so many? I know nothing about this is normal, but still…something seems strange.”

Shadowheart muses over the point, and her thoughts return to the artefact stowed away in her satchel. She’s positive it’s connected to this, though she can’t fathom a guess as to how.

“The voice on the ship told me I’d become a ‘beautiful weapon’,” Shadowheart admits, turning the memory over in her mind. “I don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.”

Naia hums in thought. “Maybe that part was a compliment.”

The words are so unexpected they startle a laugh out of Shadowheart, in spite of everything.

“You’re adorable,” she says, and Naia’s eyes go wide. She is a cute thing, Shadowheart realizes in that moment. An odd sight, certainly, covered as she is in cobwebs and bone dust, but still. Maybe it’s the eyes- now that Shadowheart is somewhat accustomed to the sight, there is something entrancing about their inky darkness.

What’s more, there’s a cleverness to this woman that Shadowheart can’t help but like. It’s for this reason that Shadowheart gives her a teasing smirk as she adds, “But your timing? Just awful.”

Naia blushes under her bruises, and Shadowheart bites back another laugh as she rises to her feet. “Go on, get your rest. I’ll check out this tomb while you do so, and then we can be on our way.”

Day three of Shadowheart’s infection, and something is wrong here.

They’ve gathered more allies by now, all with the same little stowaways in their heads. All blissfully devoid of symptoms.

What it means, Shadowheart can’t begin to say. Maybe it’s all connected to her mission, and the answer is locked away with her memories. Maybe not. The only way to find out is to press on, and hope that she has surrounded herself with allies rather than liabilities.

But Shadowheart has never put much stock in hoping, and her allies are all rather…questionable. A wizard whom they found stuck within a rock, an elf who’s clearly brimming with secrets of his own, and Lae’zel. Not Shadowheart’s first choice of company, to put it lightly.

Naia, however…

Naia continues to surprise. She is withdrawn, yet decisive; wary, yet curious. She wears the bone amulet they uncovered in the crypt on a small chain around her neck, and her spells glimmer with the telltale sickly sheen of necromancy. Naia is the one who might understand, should Shadowheart confide the truth of her mission. She clearly does not draw away from death; why should darkness be any different?

Even so, Shadowheart is smarter than that. She can’t simply go around trusting every woman who wanders through a graveyard. This mission is hers, and hers alone.

But trust is not required to simply enjoy somebody’s company. On the third night they spend together, Shadowheart settles in to join Naia over a campfire dinner, prepared by Gale and accompanied by a bottle of wine. Shadowheart eyes the wine in particular with caution. “This isn’t something else you pilfered from the crypt, is it?”

Naia pauses, lips pursed in thought as she glances down at the bottle. “It’s vintage,” she finally says.

“You’ve an optimistic way of viewing things.”

“The way things are going we’ll likely be dead ourselves within a few days anyway, so what’s the harm?”

“And such a charmer, too.” Shadowheart traces a finger over the bottle in her hand, her mind whirring. No matter how hard she tries- how hard they all try- she knows there really is only one topic on anybody’s mind.

“What would you do if I turned into a mindflayer?” she asks, opting to get straight to the point. “If I turned tonight?”

“I’d kill you.”

Naia’s answer is quick and without malice. A statement of simple fact. It’s the correct answer, yet the frank honesty is so unexpected that for a moment Shadowheart does not have a response at the ready.

A shadow passes over Naia’s face, and she huffs in frustrated embarrassment. “Sorry- I didn’t mean- I don’t want to kill you- I would just have to-”

“Oh, don’t you dare apologize,” Shadowheart interrupts, and Naia’s tense shoulders slump in relief. It is not the first time she has done this- say something without hesitation, then wince as the words leave her mouth. Shadowheart, however, cannot help but respect the pragmatism. “Killing me would be the wise thing to do- and I daresay I’d be happier dead than I would as one of those things. Although I do hope you would miss me after I’m gone. I think I’d miss you, should the roles be reversed.”

It is adorable, how Naia’s night-black eyes widen at the slightest provocation. Those eyes trace over Shadowheart’s face, betraying little yet saying quite a bit all the same.

“I would,” Naia says at last, and Shadowheart smiles. She takes a sip of the wine-

And immediately spits it out, gagging at the taste. “Oh. Oh, no. That was a terrible idea. I think that had bits of undead stuck in the cork.”

Naia laughs- short and low, and Shadowheart realizes it’s the first time she’s heard the sound. It’s…nice. She decides in that moment that as bad things are, she can at least say she likes this new ally of hers. She rises to upend the contents of the tainted wine bottle into the campfire, and she can feel Naa’s gaze follow after her as she goes- and Shadowheart feels fairly confident in saying that Naia seems to like her, too.

[twoidiotwriters1]

Almighty (Leo Valdez xFem!Oc)

A/N: This one hurt! -Danny Words: 2,178 Series' Masterlist Previous Chapter // Next Chapter Listen to: 'Let The Grass Grow' -by Ruel

XVIII: This Apollo Is Not Demure nor Mindful

"Bring me the flying chariot!" Ara runs into battle. "Nyssa, Malcolm, assessment of weak points, hand over weapons—Lily, go with them and come back with a strategy! Nico, you come with me—Put that down, Harley!"

Everyone rushes to aid the Athena statue, Chiron stays on the ground while Ara and Nico climb into the chariot and fly to the automaton's head. "I'd like to point out that I work better on the ground!" Nico exclaims, clinging to the vehicle.

"You're a last resource!" Ara shouts back. "You weaken too fast nowadays, I gotta keep an eye on you—"

"I'll be fine!"

"Bomb!" Ara stretches out her palm and Nico places the item on it. She tosses it and the automaton stumbles to the side by the force of the explosion, but it's a strong design, and Ara fails to see weaknesses. This looks like it took time to make, these men had centuries to plan the perfect way to level her camp, hoping for its weakest moment, and they consider Ara's time to be just that.

Nico swears loudly. "Are those Myrmekes?" He squints. "Carrying Apollo?"

Ara groans in dislike. "He brought Mama?"

"IMPOSTER! I AM THE REAL APOLLO! YOU'RE UGLY!" Apollo screams. The statue slams a hand against him and tosses the ant away, ripping out its wings. 

"He loves falling nowadays, doesn't he?" Ara says, ignoring for a moment that she promised not to make fun of him.

"Put me down on the ground!" Nico demands, spotting Will going to aid his father.

Ara obeys, but only because she wants to hear if Apollo has any prophecies that could be of use. The moment he sees his chariot, he climbs in it, demanding her to go back up. "What's the plan?" She asks.

"I shoot plague through the ear, you drive!"

"How is that going to kill this thing?"

"Because I want it to!"

"I don't feel confident in your plan."

"How about this..." He draws the last arrow on his quiver. "This is my last shot. Failing isn't an option."

"I like that attitude," Ara fixes her gaze on the statue.

Apollo looks down at his arrow with wide eyes. "Did you just speak to me?" He frowns. "But you're an arrow, shooting you is the whole point..." 

"Are you talking to that thing?" Ara asks in confusion. "We're on a tight schedule here, dude, you—NO!" The statue stumbles forward and smashes the pavilion under one foot. "No! That's gonna take ages to fix, you foul piece of—!"

She summons lightning and it comes down right on the statue's head. Ara has half a second to feel happy before she discovers that was a terrible idea, now the automaton is ready to go for another five rounds.

"You can't hear this arrow talking?" Apollo places the item next to her face.

Ara slaps it away. "No! Don't touch me while I'm driving!"

"What would you suggest, O Wise Missile of Dodona?" Apollo brings the arrow back to his side. "My quiver is empty."

"I can give you arrows if that thing won't do it," Ara reaches for Almighty and clicks on it twice, the weight of her quiver making itself present. "Hurry, Apollo, this thing is walking to the cabins!"

The former god grabs one and stares at it, then speaks in a choked voice. "I can't!"

Ara glares at him. "Apollo!"

"I forgot the enchantment! Did Michael ever—"

"No, he thought I would abuse those tricks!" Ara makes a face. "He didn't think highly of me when it came to weaponry and magic tricks, now that I think about it. Perhaps he knew what he was doing when he nicknamed me Beast..."

Apollo looks like he wants to dive deeper into that statement, but then his eyes widen and he yells at the arrow on his quiver. "The enchantment does not start plaguey, plaguey, plaguey!"

"Can't you just sing like in the nest? About sickness and plagues and..." Ara pauses, coming up with a new plan. "Music! You told Harley automatons are sensitive to some waves or whatever, right? I can stun it!" She points at the box between her feet. "Sonic bombs! That can slow it down!" 

Apollo grabs one. "Cover your ears!"

Luckily they're high enough that the campers won't get the full blast of it. Ara pulls Apollo down after he tosses it, the chariot swerves impulsed by the soundwave and Ara struggles to keep it from toppling. The statue vibrates and stays still for five full seconds. Ara nudges Apollo excitedly. "It works! Now we just need to keep it coming..." She has two sonic bombs left, she'll need something else to slow it down.

"Hey, Bronze Butt!" A voice causes her to see in brighter colors: Percy's here. Her brother and Mrs O'Leary land on the statue's head, but the hellhound freaks out and pees over it. Percy slides off without seeing and falls flat on the liquid. "What the—Mrs. O'Leary, jeez!"

"Nemo!" Ara calls, reaching to pull him into the chariot.

Percy jumps and holds onto her, Ara gawks at the pee that he smears on her hand. "All right, who unleashed the giant bronze guy?" Her brother grunts. "Apollo, did you do this?"

"I am offended! I am only indirectly responsible for this! Also, I have a plan to fix it." 

"Oh, yeah? How's that going?"

"Listen, if you're gonna be insolent at least do it while keeping this thing away from the cabins!" Ara says. "Mrs O'Leary, out of the way!"

"Are you wearing a flower crown?" Percy squints while their dog shadow travels away. "Are those growing out of your head?"

"Percy!" She urges him.

He extends a hand and calls for the sea. "Hey, Bronze Butt! You stink! Take a shower!"

Ara tosses the second sonic bomb and the boys duck, then Percy wraps the statue in a whirl of seawater and drags it closer to the beach. "Well?" He looks at Apollo. "Start helping!"

Ara sees her campers running after them, shouting and tossing all kinds of stuff at the giant Apollo while careful not to get stepped on. Lester whispers behind them frantically, and Ara can feel the power emanating from him, tickling her neck. 

"Get me next to its ear!" He exclaims suddenly.

Ara takes a sharp turn that almost causes Percy to fall over. "Watch it!" He rasps.

"Stop fighting! Don't breathe!" Apollo shouts his commands anxiously one after the other.

Percy seems less than happy, every time he's close to Apollo his oxygen privileges get revoked way too frequently. "Shoot it at three!" Ara grabs the last sonic bomb. "One... Two..." Apollo tenses the arrow on his bow and Ara tosses the bomb, which explodes and stuns the automaton one last time. She waits for a second and then screams. "THREE!"

Apollo shoots and Percy drags the statue into the sea, sinking it further into the sand to make sure it can't move once it recovers. Apollo's arrow cutting through the wind is one of the most beautiful things Ara's ever heard, and the sight of it falling straight into the Colossus's ear is just as great.

"Scatter!" She shouts at the demigods below.

The girl hadn't noticed before, but the statue's nostrils are sealed. Once, Leo told her that if a person tried to hold their nose and keep their eyes open while sneezing, they were likely to pop their eyeballs right out. Now she gets to see that on a large demonstration dummy. 

The statue sneezes making a noise almost as horrid as her sonic bombs, his ears pop off just like the top of its head, and they get gallons and gallons of oil over them. "Eurgh!" Percy recoils in the chariot. "Man, this sucks!"

"Take us down, General..." Apollo slips sideways.

Ara lands the chariot where Will, Austin, and Kayla are. They quickly gather around their father to bring him back, Percy slips out of the chariot, and Ara drives the thing a bit further away to make sure the statue doesn't flatten it. The Colossus sneezes again, and Ara runs up to the crowd. "So is that thing dying soon, or...?"

"It's just hay fever, I think," Apollo sighs tiredly. "The best I could do in this punny, weak excuse for a teenage body I'm stuck in."

"You're alright," Ara nudges his shoulder and lowers her voice. "Make an offering."

"What?" Apollo frowns. 

"The statue. Offer it to your dad as proof of your good deed."

"But I barely did anything!"

"Lester," Ara orders. "Do it."

"Oh, mighty Zeus! King of Olympus!" Apollo speaks loud and clear. "Please take this statue as proof of my full commitment to right my wrongs!"

"Good luck fitting that in your backyard, McQueen..." Ara mutters with satisfaction.

The statue sneezes a third time, toppling backward and landing on the water. As soon as it touches the surface, it turns into gold and white foam until it disappears.

It takes an hour to get rid of the oil, the hyacinths are still stuck on her head, but the roots feel weaker. Once that's done, Ara goes out to evaluate the damages done to her camp. The docks will need to be rebuilt, the pavilion too, and the barriers need to be put back up again.

Percy and Lily are with her, helping where they can. Ara's octopus was returned, Meg gave it back to Apollo before disappearing into the woods because she didn't want Ara to think she was a thief, which of course, only made Ara feel even worse about everything.

Percy decides to stay the night, so now he's chatting with Ara on the Big House's porch a few minutes before curfew. Ara tells him everything and he listens in silence, though his expression grows concerned. 

"Ara, if that's all true then..."

The girl leans on the woodrail and sighs. "Apollo got a prophecy," she says carefully. "I don't know if Apollo... if Lester is my obligation, but..."

"But you're going to help him," Percy says knowingly. "It will be tough, Ara. It's not just one thing to recover, one bad guy to keep an eye on. We're talking about three oracles and three emperors who, by the sound of it, are monsters."

She speaks quietly. "Nero called New York his city, and that felt gross, Percy. My campers, and demigods we don't even know, they're all at risk of ending up on his side of town, and the only way to take them down is by retrieving the oracles—by turning Lester back into a god. Meg is out there and she's..." Ara's voice fails her. "She needs me."

"We all do," he says, though he doesn't sound angry, just tired. "Estelle too."

She knows that. And she knows no one will be glad to see her go, and she knows that if Leo comes back and she isn't here, he'll be upset. She can't afford to dwell on it anyway. Ara is the daughter of Olympus, and if there's ever been a quest that concerns her, this is it. 

She's used to this, ripping off the bandaid, being the detached character that goes where she's needed. It requires a level of control over emotions not many have, but she's always been good at numbing out her despair. She excels at pretending the thought of dying has never crossed her mind when in reality she thinks of it at least five times a day.

Ara heaves a sigh. "There is nothing you can say that will keep me from going, Percy."

"I know I can't stop you. Not even our parents can't stop you. I mean, when I showed up without you Mom didn't even look surprised. Paul asked a few questions, but we all knew this was coming. Things can't be normal when one of us is the daughter of Olympus, that doesn't mean it doesn't suck."

Ara slides down and sits on the floor, her back against the railing. "If it were just Apollo..."

"But it's never about the gods, is it?" Percy sits beside her. "There is no one else that cares about demigods more than you do... And that's great Ara, but it comes at too high of a price."

"I know you think I wasn't aware of it when I became a General, but I knew," she rubs her forehead wearily. "The thing is, when you grow up like I did, abandoned, then overlooked, until you're finally given something precious, you do anything to keep it safe. Anything. I can live with all of you resenting me for leaving, but I cannot stay and watch everything die knowing I could've made a difference."

"I think you're a little Atlas," Percy says, eyes misty. "But like, a good kind. One that takes the weight of things without complaining."

"I complain all the time," she laughs dryly.

"You barely complain," he insists, placing an arm on her shoulders and pulling her closer. 

Ara gulps down the lump in her throat. "I keep having this feeling... like this will be my last big quest."

The boy buries his nose in her hair, the smell of hyacinths strong and exquisite, but it makes him think of a corpse beautifully decorated, and he has to push back a shiver. "You... you can do it. Look at all you did this week and with almost no help!"

"Apollo helped..." At her brother's silence, she sighs. "Yeah, almost no help."

Next Chapter –>

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