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granolawriting · 8 months

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hi can you do sith anakin x reader (reader has healing powers but no one knows it she is both fascinated and scared of anakin and watches him secretly (he senses it) everytime he walks in front of her etc) reader is maid and she is amazed by story of kybers and lightsaber. So one time her duty is hanging his robes so she goes to his room scaredly but after getting her job done she realizes his lightsaber is there so she cant help but examine, touch his lightsaber but he senses it and suddenly behind her after that idk yandere stuff happens and when he touches her he senses her healing powers so chooses her as his personal maid and makes her massage his temples everynight for headache, a bond starts to form between them

A/N: This is usually the kind of specificity I like to keep commissions for, but regardless I enjoyed trying out the scene building based on your suggestion! I appreciate your request :) I hope you enjoy <3

pairing: Sith!Anakin x reader

content warning: brief choking, power dynamic

word count: 3.2k

Your eyes watched him go by. Black enveloped by more black, a wave of terror rushes over you at the sight of his path. His robes define evermore the intimidation wishing to be imbued within his subjects as his path is blazed with red. Though with careful luck, you found yourself his maid. Or well, one of many. There was a great deal of women tasked with the upkeep of the empire, and so very often his own dwelling. But that was incredibly rare. No one was allowed so close to him, and especially to you all he was was but a mystery.

You trace his body as it walks past you, watching as yellow eyes and the brood of a Greek tragedy coat his face peppered with strands of brown hair that fell to his lower neck. Though your eyes linger upon his waist, a specific item that never fails to catch your whimsy is the handle to the blade no one but him ever held anymore.

Order 66.

You remember watching that transpire. Though you were quite young, you remember the Jedi. You remember their blades, how they were formed, the kybers harvested from far-off planets and infused into specialized sheaths that harbored great power divinely intertwined with its wielder. When you were young you envied the force, yearned for it to grace you with it's presence though as you grew older and more practical, you settled for an infatuation with the lightsaber's story. And with your master, boss if you will, being the only one left with such a sight, it oftentimes shed from your mind that insurmountable fear of him, to one of fascination and wonder. What was his story?

That's a question no one knew, and no one ever would know.

Fear washes over you. Immanent, impending doom. You slowly gaze up from where you allowed your eyes to wander for many moments too long, to find the eyes of Anakin staring back at you. FUCK.

…

The silence is more petrifying than the words he could say. The fear of not knowing overtook the fear of what he was going to do and he knew that. However, after a moment longer, he left without a word. A clacking of heel against freshly cleaned tile slowly drifting off into another corridor as you are left with a heart rate that could kill. Your breath levels after a few more moments of silence enveloping you, an empty room, and a myriad of assumptions to be made. But regardless, your mind still sits on the sway of the saber along his belt. Its complexity still entices you as much as it ever has.

------------

“You wish me to, drop these in his room?”

Held within your hands are the robes that which Anakin wears on his daily excursions, often needing to be washed and repaired due to stains and wear; though the stench of blood could never quite leave it’s woven threads.

“Is there a problem with that?”

“Oh no uh, not at all. I just didn't know that was within my realm of ability”

“Well, it is now. So do your job. And don't think we won't be making sure you don't do anything you’d regret.”

Stern eyes meet yours, for a droid that is. Your manager in a way, is a droid. A bit odd, but takes out the reasonability of a human to be compelled to go against code. This thing is more apt to kill you than anything else.

Though with little more convincing needed, you take the robes down the infamous corridor that seldom ever walked. You could feel the aura of his common passage seep from the metal beneath you as the hallway never seemed to end. Anxiety wells up in you as you approach its entrance.

This is where Anakin lives. Lord, Anakin.

A loud beep of a properly put-in keypad was what proceeded to a large hissing of the doors opening. You slowly enter within its realm, one slow foot over the other, scouring every area for possible life that you should undoubtedly be in fear of. Despite having a reason to be there, the intimidation lingers within every surface he’s touched, every glass held that lay on the coffee table, and undoubtedly the bed at which he sleeps that you stare at with eyes of awe. You saw Anakin for a moment, within this room. Not the Sith, but the man. You saw the empty glass of water next to his bed, the disheveled sheets that indicate a bed slept in, you see things left half open- the living of a person within these walls. Though one of the things you notice left open is his closet. Your destination is to be swiftly met and your activity finished. Before people start to question. You make your way into his closet, swiftly put his things where they belong, and exit his room.

However, something stops you. It catches your eye, the glint of it's metal reflects off the sun that shines through his windows and you stop where you are immediately.

His lightsaber.

Why it wasn't with him, is a mystery you hold with much contemplation but all sense is overriden being in such close proximity to the single weapon you’ve been infatuated with since you first laid eyes on it. It’s almost as though it calls to you, sings to you.

A head moving left and right, surveying its surroundings as you stand alone in this room does the desire grow too strong. Your hand outstretched, slow feet step closer to it. Until it's finally touched your fingers. The meer power exuding from it is never something you could have accounted for, but probably should have. A touch of fingers grows into a grip of fingers, and a grip upon it grows into both hands holding this item yearned for your entire life. You felt euphoric, this isn't something you thought you’d ever be able to feel, or experience. Eyes look down into its core and see the kybercrystal staring back at you, and with simple means, you find the blade ignited in a red beam of flame that relayed noise with every motion of it as you softly swung it in the open air. A smile coated on your face in a way you've never felt, joy so strong your face hurts from pure happiness.

This was very short-lived.

“And what do you think you’re doing?”

your stomach drops as you hear a horrifyingly familiar voice sound behind you.

Anakin.

It's, you, didn't even hear him come in. It's as if he appeared. The blade drops from your hand, sheathing itself in the process so all that follows its loss of grip is the hard clank of metal greeting the hard tile of the floor where you stood.

Hurried, petrified voice that only sounded a means for survival as your mind stayed blank with terror;

“Oh please, god oh I'm so sorry I didn't mean to. Please sir don't hurt me plea-”

Without another word you are thrown against a wall, feeling the choke of his hands from feet away as he holds his arm out to signify the force used to harm you.

“Did you really not think I’d feel something like that? Do you know nothing, young girl? The moment you laid eyes on that thing it is as though you laid eyes upon me. Which I promise you I’ve noticed as well. Do you work for the rebels perhaps? Or are you just nosy?”

your hand grasps at an invisible hand across your throat, restricted air desperately escapes your body as you gasp for breath within his grasp. All you can muster is a “No”

“No what?”

Furrowed brows and rancor coating his yellow eyes, a scowl across his mouth as he tightens his grip upon your neck as a sadistic means to give you a thought that you may have a chance to actually explain yourself.

Though as your hands follow the lines of your neck, you feel the bruise forming around you heal. The strained vocal cords of a woman choked begin to grow well as you grace yourself with the one thing that’s made your world livable as of late. An attunement with life and death that has made you well-equipped to heal. You couldn't bring people back from the dead, but you could heal them from the brink of it. That included yourself, and though it's never been as useful as it is at this moment, it has saved you many times in the past. Especially others.

His eyes begin to show sight of confusion at the lack of intense struggle; a sterner look upon your face as you try to heal yourself with hands softly drawn across your neck, he quickly notices the wounds on you disappear as he creates them. He stops his tournament for but a moment, taken aback at the sight of such a thing. A thing he's never seen before, the ability to heal what was once broken with powers within only yourself.

“What do you think you're doing?”

You collapse to the ground, gasping for air but not nearly as much as you’d need to if it hadn't been for your healing. His voice is deep, laced with anger as his lesson on you didn't seem to reach it’s desired outcome, but regardless curiosity got the better of him as he truly desired an explanation for your ability.

“Sir please I-, I don't want to die. There's so much unfinished for me to do and I just-”

“That's not what I asked. How are you healed.”

You pause for a moment. Realizing that he noticed yet again what you try so hard to hide. Touching your neck ever so slightly you shift the direction of what you explain to him;

“This is, I can heal. That’s all that I can do sir. I don't do it too often, I don't know what it does. Or how I can do it, really.”

“Can it heal others?”

An opening. Your salvation.

“Yes! Yes. Yes, I can. Please, I'll heal whoever you need me to. Please just spare me.”

“Get out.”

You pray thanks and run as quickly as you can. As your feet hit the tile that separated the entrance of his dwelling and the corridor you were in just moments ago, it felt as if an eternity was spent within the confines of that room. Confronting him as he stood there ready to kill you. You have never felt so grateful in your whole life, that you were able to make your way free after all you did. After touching, even playing with his saber.

You touched his saber.

It hit you then. That you finally actualized something that you allowed overtake you in obsession-- something that meant an unfathomable amount to you, something you’d dreamed of your whole life. And you got away with it.

Desire overtook you, replaying those brief moments of freedom in your head over and over as you yearn for just another moment with it in your hands. Just a second more, the sound gracing your ears for just one more turn. But you couldn't. You barely saved yourself from his grasp the first time, there's no means to say he wouldn't do away with you if you ever tried something like that again. Like you could even get close again. You wouldn't be surprised if he just allowed a delay of the inevitable, that tomorrow morning there would be inquisitors at your door ready to whisk you away like they did any other rebel spy.

You needed to sleep. There's nothing productive out of the fear you held within yourself, and as you slowly lulled yourself into a slumber that coming night, all that filled your dreams were action and power wielded within the saber. The feeling of it in your hand, the way it weighed on you, the power you felt exude from the weapon's very core only allowed more vivid actualization of what had been the dreams you kept for years upon years. You were enamored with Anakin even more after this point, and despite the fear that lingered deep in your heart, there's something to be said about feeling his essence for but a moment. It was something inexplicable, something fascinatingly complex.

-----

“Lord Anakin wishes to speak with you.”

A knock upon your door as morning broke followed by this request from a member of Anakin's innumerable messengers across the empire. He hands you a bit of paper requesting, or moreso demanding your audience in his dwellings at 5 in the evening that day.

Looking at a clock shining a bright 7 a.m., all that welled within your heart was fear and anticipation. your door closed once the messenger had provided you with the information he was tasked with, and alone you stood for a moment at your entryway trying to gather what he could have wanted from you. You were insignificant at best, all that caught his eye was your increasingly daring behavior that hinged on means for execution. Though for some reason you lived, and for that very reason you held a modicum of faith that there was somehow a positive means to be in his private audience.

-----

As your day drew to a close, every minute feeling like hours against the impending clock that determined at 5 pm, may you live to see the next day, or might you not be so lucky. Quickly changing out of your working clothes, you make your way to Anakin's room with an intense grasp on the time, so as to not be a moment too late. Or early for that matter.

Stood outside the arched doorway of his room you sit there with a quickened heart. Anticipation and petrification consume you respectively as the only door that divided you from him was little effect in withholding the feeling of him right on the other side, the aura of a man who had little remorse. Sympathy. Consideration or especially means for compromise. It was what he wanted, or death. You reminded yourself, steeling yourself for whatever he may demand of you as you enter.

“You may come in already.”

His voice booms from the inside of the room. He could tell you were there. He could sense your fear no doubt, tell your presence from behind a steel door. You enter with haste.

There you find him sitting on a chair, waiting for you to approach him. With cautious steps you obliged, taking in all you could of your surroundings-- surveying for anything that may cue you in a second before he does.

You stand a few feets' distance from him.

“No, come here.”

He motions his hand towards you, as you observe a face of indifference at the sight of you. It was better than anger. Much, better than anger.

You arrive at around a half-foot distance from him, and with that he commands;

“Give me your hands.”

As he opens up with both his arms outstretched as you slowly move them into his, feeling a cold and calloused hand grab yours the moment they were in reach, and moving them slowly to his temple. You stood there in silence as he closed his eyes at the touch of your fingers upon his face, a furrowed brow that implied that you weren't providing for him what he had expected of you.

And then it dawned on you. He wants you to heal him.

“Would you, like me to heal you, sir?”

A polite tone coated your voice to hide any semblance of anxiety or embarrassment.

“Yes.”

“Well, I can't quite do that without knowing the source. Can you tell me what you want to heal?”

“Headaches. Migraines. Must I say more.”

“No, no not at all. Thank you, sir.”

And so with gentle hands along his temples, you feed within him the power that he has grown privy to. Though as you watch along his face an unforeseen tension seems to be released from his face as it grows softer under your touch. A scowl turns into a resting face, and a furrow of brows evens out for a feeling of tranquility you can only assume overtook the body of a man relieved of an incessant headache.

And a tear, runs from his face.

After a few more minutes you feel as though you’ve done all you can, and let up from his face.

He looks at you for a moment, and you see someone you oddly recognize. For but a moment the gruff exterior of a man dealing with war looks upon you like, just a man. No amount of intimidation could negate the fact that he was just that, and as you healed his mind, you felt as though a bit of his heart was able to shine through in its place.

“Very well. I expect you to report here instead of your usual station tomorrow from now on. Is that clear?”

“Oh uh, yes sir. May I ask what you will be expecting of me from now on? What shall I do for you?”

“You will be my personal assistant. Do you object to my order?”

“No, no sir. Thank you, sir. Thank you very much.”

And as you turn away to walk back to your room, he calls upon you once more.

“Thank you.”

That is all he says, and proceeds to turn into his bedroom through a separate door. As you depart from his home, you feel within yourself a well-developed liking for Anakin that overshadows the fear you held for him. To understand him is what you desire most, and although to heal the mind isn't to be able to read it, you realize that much can be learned through what parts of a person hurt most.

----

As time went on, to report to his door every day and follow his list of commands, cleaning his place, placing his robes, and most importantly healing his mind most every night, you began to learn intimate details of him that made him quite human to you. He was very slow to speak, only when it was absolutely necessary. But he was kind to you, and as time grew on he seemed to enjoy you as well. You gathered that no one visited him, no one really felt comfortable in his presence and that was something that drastically changed within your own feelings toward him.

And as the bond grew even stronger, he had a room built for you close to that of his own, as a means to keep you closer for when he needed it. He was very hard of emotion, and in those moments of healing is really the only time you felt as though you could truly see Anakin. And there's cause to believe he thinks so as well. To heal his mind is to heal his heart in a way, and with every night spent together for a few minutes softened him up to you immensely.

He felt vulnerable around you, and that made him feel human, even for just a moment.

#anakin skywalker #star wars #fanfiction #fanfic #anakin x reader #anakin fanfiction #hayden christensen #sw anakin #enemies to lovers #enemies to implied lovers #anakin fluff #sith anakin #sith x reader #vader x reader #darth vader

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kay-selfships · 7 months

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so i'm someone that bruises relatively easily and i've been getting a lot of them from work recently (it's a tad more labor intensive than my other jobs, but i'm getting paid a lot more so worth it tbh) but it's still annoying so i wrote a lil drabble about it lol

Going inside after an extended period of braving the chill of Dragonspine was always an extremely relieving feeling. Kay never quite dealt with the cold the best, but she was always willing to do so if it meant she was able to spend a little more time with her lover while he worked on his experiments. Sure, she never did much more than fetch the odd ingredient or two, but she knew they both appreciated the company. Plus, she also thought she provided adequate moral support regardless.

Once inside, the adventurer slipped off the large coat she was wearing to shield from the cold, letting out a silent yawn and stretching herself out. However, she was keenly aware of an observant, analytical gaze on her while she did so. She turned, about to make a flirtatious and witty comment about catching his gaze on her while she undressed, though Albedo beat her to it by speaking up first.

“...Have you gotten into any fights recently?” His tone was quiet and careful, his expression matching, eyebrows furrowed like they always did when he was focusing on any complex alchemical equation for a bit too long. Kay’s own expression quickly dropped from flirtatious to confused, glancing around herself a little in an attempt to figure out what prompted such a question.

“Mmmm…I don’t think so? There was one incident with some treasure hoarders, but that was weeks ago. They were dealt with pretty easily though.” She added with a certain pride in her voice, clearly happy with how much her combat skills have improved. Her tone then became more serious once more as she returned to his original question. “Why do you ask?”

“…Bruises.” He said simply, and Kay was now able to follow his gaze to her newly exposed arms. Surely enough, there were quite a few of the black and blue marks decorating them. “That’s not all. I noticed some on your legs earlier as well. While adventuring often results in some scrapes or bumps…this amount seems a little higher than normal…” By his cadence and the general nature of the man, he very much seemed in ‘analytical mode,’ leaving Kay defenseless to interject even if she wanted to. “As a vegetarian, you do have more risk of developing anemia, or developing bruises in general. Though…I don’t believe you’ve ever had this many at a time before. Which is why I asked.” He finished, looking at her expectantly.

“I promise I haven’t gotten these from any fights. Would you believe me if I said I was just that clumsy?” Kay asked sheepishly, a weak smile appearing on her face. After a moment of contemplation, Albedo sighed and nodded.

“It…is a plausible explanation. Even then, it’s still not…good that you’re getting such bruises just from living your life. It makes me…” He paused for another moment, as if trying to decipher the exact name for the emotion he was feeling. “…concerned. You’re likely still iron deficient, have you been eating enough leafy greens, beans, or eggs?” Kay tried to conceal the guilt that likely immediately appeared on her expression, but by the look on his face, he got his answer. He clicked his tongue, and Kay braced herself for a lecture or hearing how he was disappointed in her. However, neither came as he drifted a bit closer to her and took her hand gently. “I am only concerned for your health, you’re only human after all. I will remind you when I can, but can you promise me to try to take care of yourself better as well?” Kay released a breath, her heart rate slowing as she processed that he wasn’t upset with her.

“I promise. As long as you do too, Mr. ‘Sometimes Forgets to Eat at All When Focusing on His Experiments.’” She replied, causing him to let out a defeated chuckle.

“Right…I have no defense for that. I suppose we’ll simply have to look out for each other, yes?” Kay’s eyes practically lit up at his words, proceeding to throw both of her arms around him and squeezing. He seemed to be thrown off for a moment by the sudden action, but quickly regained balance, allowing the momentum to spin them around once before remaining still.

“It’s a deal!” She agreed, burying her face against the crook of his neck.

“In the meantime…” He began, taking her arm and pressing his lips against one of the bruises on it, though being sure not to apply enough pressure to cause any pain. “I suppose I will just have to kiss them until they’re better.”

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cheries-brainerotvent · 2 years

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Random Harbinger brain rot vent with S.O., with ALL of them - also our dear grandpa Pulcinella who sees you as his grandchild ahaha:

Helping them get dressed! Just, imagine!! Helping Pierro put on his mask, or Capitano his helmet? Your gentle hands helping them don those winter coats! Making sure there are no wrinkles, mayhap your hands linger to keep them from leaving you? (Ah my heart~)

Would they be flustered? Endeared? I’m a sucker for villains being only soft towards their lover!! I’m sure Pantalone would definitely tease his lover, trying to making them flush in turn - oh but can you imagine him get flustered!?(⌒▽⌒) He’d probably try to chuckle to hide it. Aaah, gently placing his glasses on his face and fixing the glass chain!\(//∇//)\

Dottore would be a tsundere, probably says he can dress himself - don’t stop though - “Might as well finish what you started.” Or so he says~ be cheeky and give a kiss before his pretty face is covered by that mask again. Pull him by that cravat for that kiss if you have to (^_−)−☆ Maybe his clones would get a wee bit envious??

Going back to Pierro and Capitano for a moment, both can’t love you enough with how you are towards them! Both powerful men being so weak to their love as they are the ones being taken care of! Since they’re so tall they probably have to kneel to get that coat on, or is it a cloak? It looks like a cloak…Either way, they appear like knights when they do so. They would only ever bow before you - aside from the Tsarista. (Oh, that might make a good prompt~)

Childe would eat up the affection, attempting to get as many kisses as he can as you help him get dressed. You’re able to feel the pitter patter of his heart as you adjust his coat, he’s so in love! Wouldn’t want to leave you, would push the time limit until a poor Fatui recruit has to knock on the door to get him to come out.

Pulcinella appreciates the help as he is getting on in years, is sure to tell you a story as you help him get ready! I can see him giving you candies like a grandchild would receive （＾ν＾) (You think he has those strawberry shaped candies all grandparents seem to have??) Would let you try on his hat, or perhaps your wearing it as he is about to set out and he comments that he is forgetting it. “How cheeky of you, I’ll have one made so we can match!”

Signora, while she doesn’t mind the help she’d only find it fair if she helps you get dressed as she is doing so as well. Cue each of you taking a turn sitting at a vanity as hair is combed, and jewelry placed. No fatui recruit dares interrupt you both, regardless of the time. Gets her lipstick on you before she has to leave. Promisesto get home early to pamper you further. She loves the little moments like these as she wasn’t able to experience it with her first love.

Arlechinno, much more stubborn than Dottore to let you help her get dressed. Isn’t used to the affection, or the touch, so be slow and compromise. Button up, make sure her coat is adjusted. Arlechinno will eventually come to enjoy these moments as she can spend more time with you. She tries to hide the fact that she enjoys when you carefully brush her hair, and when you make sure her adornments on her coat/cloak (someone help, what is it?) are in order.

Sandrone, I’m sure she’s the one who started this whole thing between you two. Is used to dressing her automaton’s, why shouldn’t she dress her lover? But, oh my to be at the receiving end? She can’t help but slightly blush, how odd to be the “doll” instead. Will enjoy the whole process with no complaints, and refuses to leave until she dresses you in turn.

Columbina is no stranger to helping you dress, and you helping her in turn. However both of you take your sweet old time - more so than Signora. Both of you will still be in your pajamas as you are combing each others hair, applying makeup, carefully making sure each button is made. Columbina will be singing all the while, your voice dueting with her’s, or if neither of you are in the mood to sing then you have a record player going in the background. It actually wouldn’t surprise me if Columbina has servants at the ready to wake you two to music, or play while you get ready.

Scaramouche, ah Σ('◉⌓◉’) if you thought Dottore and Arlechinno where adverse to getting dressed by you - Scaramouche is 10x more against it. He isn’t some child! Or so he says, claiming he can manage just fine. The poor lad is just shy, be gentle, patient, he’ll eventually let you help if you pout a little and he notices how sincerely you just want to be affectionate to him. He’ll avoid eye contact as you do any buttons, or adjust anything. Will be unable to not smile as you place his hat on him, will give you a final little “Tsk”, but he really does love you a lot.

So my brain rot comes to an end!(*´Д｀*) if anyone wants to add anything be my guest!!

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hornedadvance · 18 days

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Horned Advance

Chapter 7 - Oasis

They’d finally made it; the oasis town, Muvazani. Relief washed over Palo, knowing that she wouldn’t die out in the expanse of the desert, at least not today. With the relief though, came the exhaustion that her adrenaline had been putting off. With a parched throat, hazy vision and shaky legs, Palo’s knees gave out mere steps from the front gate of Muvazani.

Palo gasped for air, her head pounding as she realised she’d passed out. She glanced around, taking a moment to get her bearings, only to find that she’d somehow made her way back to the forest that she’d spent so many years of her life in. She knew exactly where she was, she’d seen the set of trees around her a thousand times over… This was where she met Quinn. A mischievous little brat with a heart of gold, heading into the forbidden forest all on her own purely out of curiosity. Palo cut her reminiscing off quickly though, trying to grasp her situation.

The girl looked down at her hands, to realise she wasn’t wearing the new leather garments she’d commissioned just days ago… And that her hands were much smaller than they were last time she checked. The girl felt confused for a moment, until a familiar voice called for her just across from her beneath the canopies. “Palo! Come on now… We have leftovers at my house. If you don’t hurry they’ll go cold!” Called a small Quinn. “Awright, I’m coming, Quinn!” Responded Palo before she could even think. She made her way over to Quinn, careful not to disturb the complex fauna of the forest as she did, taking the girl’s hand as they started to walk.

“... -y… -ey……. hey……. HEY!” A sharp sound rang through Palo’s head as she opened her eyes to a blinding incandescent light overhead. “Hey… You back with us?” Said an unfamiliar face. A man with black messy hair, a gangly fellow in a long white coat. “We found you outsid’a town, face in the sand. Her too.” The man said, pointing his thumb back as Palo followed his gesture to see Quinn laying in another bed just across from them. “Good thing, too. The town guards would’a had your head if they saw you lookin’ like that.” The man continued nonchalantly, nodding towards Palo’s head. The girl finally got her wits about her again, jumping up from the bed she’d been laid out on until now. “W-Who are you?! Where are we!?” The girl shouted, flung into a panic, backing up to the wall. “Calm it, missy. Lady over there isn’t in as good’a shape as you. All kinds of fucked up, she is. How does someone even get burns that bad…” The man trailed off, seeming to talk to himself more than to Palo.

“Regardless, we don’t need the noise in here. That an’ well, if we wanted to do anything to you, it’d have been done by now.” The man prattled on. “ ‘Spose you’re right…” Palo admitted, lowering her guard a little. “The name’s Brooke.” The man said, standing up to reveal his hulking stature. He towered over Palo, to the point that she had to crane her neck to meet his gaze, yet the man didn’t seem threatening at all. He was thin and long, spindly even as if he were some sort of human insect. “I’m what some might call a shady doctor y’see. We don’t get an awful lot of business here, so I thought you two might appreciate being emergency clients, if ya catch my drift…” He spoke as if he was just offering, but Palo could tell from his tone that he had already had his way with their knapsack of shards. “I won’t sell ya’ out to the big wigs in town, just cause I’m a good doctor of sorts. Patient confidentiality an’ allat.” He continued, waving his hand around as he did. “A devil child here in Muvazani though… Who’da thought.” He said casually, Palo staring daggers at him as he called her such a thing. “What do you want from me, then?” Asked Palo bluntly. “Nothin’ at all! I’m just happy to help people.” The man said, clearly lying through his teeth. “Your friend… She’s in bad condition, y’know. If the two’ve ya’d been out there a half hour longer, give or take, she’d have passed onto the next life.” Palo tried to hide the guilt that hearing it made her feel but her sombre expression betrayed her intentions. “I-”

“ ‘We’ll look after her… For now.” The man interrupted, sparing her an explanation. “I would wager the two of ya don’t have a second choice here… So it’s my duty as a doctor to nurse her back to health. She’ll be good to go in a couple days, just hold out here until then.” Palo wanted to refuse the shady man, but they both knew that there was no alternative; the girl gritting her teeth and conceding. “Okay… But if I find one hair on her head missing by the time we leave… You’ll rue the day.” She spoke back to the man. “Sheesh, scary little lady, you are. A deal it is, then.” Said the man, offering his hand out for a shake. Palo simply looked at him until he got the message, lowering his hand after being hung out to dry.

“Where’s my stuff?” The girl asked, looking more closely at her environment; a dingy sandstone room with medical supplies of all kinds and unusual herbs strung around between coarse hay beds. “I’ll have my lovely assistant bring it over.” The man responded. “Millie! Bring her stuff out.” He shouted, with a squeak of acknowledgement coming from the other room. Soon after, a tiny woman, at least 5 inches shorter than Palo hobbled into the room, carrying Palo’s big bag of shards and the other stuff Palo had been hauling about thus far. “Here ya’ go, little lady.” She said in a shrill voice, audibly grunting as she passed Palo the relatively light set of objects. “Uhh… Thanks.” Palo responded, a rare expression of gratitude from a confused girl. She peeked into her money sack to see half of the shards gone, giving Brooke an immediate look of pure malice before realising that she was in no place to negotiate. The slimy man gave her a smug grin, before showing her to the door, ushering her out as she pulled her hood up. She could never feel good about leaving Quinn with someone she’d never met before but the man was right; he’d had every opportunity to sell them out or kill them if that was his intent, and Quinn did need medical attention, Palo knew this with what little experience she had with treatments. At least this meant that Quinn wouldn’t slow Palo down as she browsed Muvazani’s wares, though.

For the first order, Palo went and found herself an Inn to stay at on the border of town, just in case she needed to make a quick escape. It cost her about a third of her remaining shards for a two night stay, and she hoped that Brooke would be done fixing up Quinn by then. After that though, the girl hit the streets of Muvazani, intending to see what made this town ‘such a majesty’ as she’d always heard. As she escaped the backstreets into the centre of town, the washed out sandstone structures transformed into beautiful bespoke stores adorned in red velvet banners and golden ornaments, polished to a dazzling gleam. She spied the oasis the town was built upon, a beautiful lake surrounded by natural palm trees, lined by small stalls selling the most novel and useless of goods. Plenty of well dressed people strolled the streets of Muvazani as sunset approached, nobility from all over and rich traders around to see the latest wares the town had to offer.

The girl pulled her hood tighter over her head, and gripped her bags a little tighter before heading up to a stall displaying a bunch of technological thingamabobs she’d never seen before. “You have anything that helps with… Hearing?...” She asked nervously. “Hearing?... No? Don’t think I do, missy.” Said a visibly confused merchant standing across from her. “You’ve got ear problems, I take it? My wife dabbles in oils good for cleaning…” He continued, rubbing his hands together. “I… think I’m alright actually.” Said Palo, before moving on from the stall. She visited several more stalls with various gizmos laid about, all to about the same response. She passed a fruit stand at one point, selling all sorts of exotic, juicy looking produce, tempting Palo on a deep soul level as she realised she’d only been eating dried, salty preserved food for the past week. She salivated over the idea of a juicy fruit, but she knew she didn’t have the money to spend on extravagant treats when Quinn needed her.

She continued to browse until it was dark, the soft orange lamps hung from each building and stall lighting the city centre up warmly. As Palo grew frustrated, tired and hopeless she passed a stand with a pretty, ornamental looking brown-green hunting bow presented alone on the counter. It was etched with an intricate floral pattern, evoking a strong image of the forest Palo had just recently left. The girl felt compelled to buy it, cracking open her bag of money with the reasoning that it’d be good for hunting for the rest of the trip. “This one’s my masterpiece, my passion project even. Issue with it is, the rich don’t care for a hunting bow and the poor don’t care for novelty. Just a stealing risk for them, can’t blame em.” The craftslady said as she handed the bow over to Palo, the leather quiver included. “Take good care of it for me.” She said, with the sadness of separation in her voice. Palo said she would and left the stall, bumping into a small passer-by carrying a huge backpack as she did. “Ahh, sorry!” The person said as they rushed by, waving apologetically. Palo thought nothing of it and kept walking. It was a busy city after all, surely things like this were commonplace in such bustling streets. The girl was right, too, things like this were commonplace, though Palo felt a surge of rage when she noticed her bag of money she’d clutched so closely was entirely absent from her waistband.

She’d been robbed.

Next Chapter

Link to All Chapters

#horned advance #creative writing #original work #original fiction #ocs #original characters #writing #fantasy #writers on tumblr

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inhumanheresy · 6 months

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"You have come," Yana says simply as Tartaglia enters the main hall of her palace. Fires burn in hearths that she lights for those with less kinship with the cold as she, and she has shed her furs due to the flames licking heat across her skin. The fires are not for her, not she who may as well be ice from the inside out, but for people like her Tartaglia, who has learned to handle the chill in her presence, but is still very much warm flesh and blood that can become sickened by her frost and frozen by her cold.

She does not stand as he enters, but watches him with a steady gaze, gesturing for him to sit in the chair near her, plush and soft, and closer to the fire than her own seat is. "I have a gift for you, my Tartaglia." The hint of a smile plays at the corners of her lips. Not sinister, there are no ulterior motives when it is he, her most loyal of Harbingers, who joins her. There is delight in her heart, only an inkling, threatening to wear down the steep an icy walls that guard her so spectacularly, but she has long decided that, should any know even the tiniest fraction of what lay in her heart, well, Tartaglia is one of very few she thinks she could trust with it. A darkness resides there, a darkness that she has allowed to thrive and grow and surround the love she feels so very deeply, securing it away so it cannot be a weakness, but present enough to remind her that her actions are founded in love. Because it is love that drives her plans forward. It is love that keeps her people safe within Snezhnaya, her love that keeps their borders open and a flow of trade, mora, travelers, tourists, ensuring the economy stays steady with growth. Many believe she has forsaken them, but they are wrong. One day, they will realize just how eting they are.

However, she thinks Tartaglia might not want to see that side of her - her broken and weary heart, laden with the weight of heartbreak, so close to shattering all over again. The moment her heart shattered during the cataclysm is frozen in time and kept securely in her mind and heart as a reminder. A constant reminder of what love can do, can be, can cause.

But it is her love that sill beats faintly through her veins, and her Tartaglia is one of so very few who can appreciate what her love can do.

Once he is settled comfortably, she passes the box to him to open. Inside lay an earring of blood, crystallized, iced, preserved perfectly in a stone that shall never melt regardless of any heat. The blood stone radiates a gentle cold reminiscent of her own icy touch. She knows it will chill his earlobe, and brush cool air by his cheek and neck, the frosted ghost of her touch always upon him. Her Tartaglia.

She watches as he opens the box, waits for his reaction. It seems she has not lost the small grill that comes with giving a gift to one she cares so very deeply for.

(sorry for typos and if this doesn't make sense. I'm falling asleep and have a bandaid on my thumb that kept pressing the wrong letters. Hopefully being sleepy while sending this doesn't make the writing sound bad lmao. I could've waited, but I didn't want to 😘💕)

Within the great hall, the temperature is what he considers comfortable — an ever-present underlying chill tempered by the heat of fires, and while his coat already lies open he thinks he might have to shuck it if he stays here for too great a length of time. Tartaglia wears his Harbinger coat, comfortable and insulated, his scarf a blood-red splash against pure white.

If he were someone like Scaramouche or Pantalone, he'd still be bundled up in even more layers upon layers and scorning the very idea of thinking this temperature comfortable, but Ajax, Tartaglia, is a son of the coastal taiga, of the edge-of-tundra, of ever-present snow layered over lichen and evergreens, and the feeling that the Tsaritsa has cultivated in the empty main hall reminds him of nothing so much as home, despite the difference in scale.

The Tsaritsa herself wears no extra protection from the cold, and why should she? While the Cryo Archon isn't a walking statue of ice, there is no way a simple low ambient temperature could ever harm her, or even cause her discomfort.

"I have." He returns the hint of softness of Her eyes and at the corners of Her mouth — that he hopes he isn’t imagining — with a broad smile and a bow, right hand over his chest and left fisted at the small of his back. "Thank You for the chance to spend time at Your side, Your Majesty."

He's spoken alone with Her on a fair few occasions, and sometimes alone but with Pierro at her back, those times before She'd chosen him as one of Her Harbingers, though he’s been out on assignment much of the time since he was elevated to his current position, proving his dedication, his talent for inciting chaos, his battle prowess that — even if he’s being objective — exceeds most if not all of the other Harbingers, even though they’d crush him in matters of soft power with barely a thought.

It is the arena where he has the most room to grow, but even then he finds himself less interested in building social power than improving his combat capabilities even further.

"I'll admit; I didn't expect to receive such an invitation from You. I can’t imagine that the Vanguard is often the first choice to keep one company." He cocks his head in a gesture somewhere between a nod and a questioning tilt as he settles in the chair She's indicated for him. "But I’m hardly complaining."

Pierro and most if not all of the other said Harbingers would call him audacious for speaking so familiarly and easily with the Tsaritsa, but to the Abyss with all their opinions; She wouldn't have chosen him to rise in Her service if She didn't approve of a generous measure of audacity.

And perhaps She sees in him what he believes he’s seen in Her since the first time he lifted his gaze to meet Her own on that day She elevated him and granted him his Delusion: a cold passion, an arrogance, a sharp, intent warrior’s nature.

A beating heart within it all.

“A gift?” This honestly surprises him, even as she holds out the small, unassuming box and he takes it with an automatic nod of gratitude. He’s been a Harbinger for a relatively short time even by human standards, much less in comparison with most of his colleagues, and to think that in the time that She’s known him She’s grown fond of him enough for such a gesture—

There is a possessiveness in the way the Tsaritsa says ‘my Tartaglia’ that feels like it would rankle if it came from anyone else, but coming from Her it is… heartfelt pride. Satisfaction. An uplifting delight. She recognizes his ability and potential, gifted him this name, charges him to enact her will, judgment, and designs. From Her, ‘My Tartaglia’ feels only right.

He slides off the lid of the box, immediately noting the waft of cool air that greets him before the sight of gleaming red.

“My lady,” he breathes, releasing a soft hah of awed surprise. “It’s beautiful.”

Tartaglia pulls off his long leather gloves to remove the pale crescent-moon curve of ivory from his left ear, placing the delicately carved scrimshaw into the box as he lifts out Her gift, watching in fascination as the firelight glints through subtle variations in colour throughout the gem. Crimson swirls within scarlet in a manner that appears strangely liquid. And perhaps… “I’ve heard that ice is a mineral, but I’ve never seen it used as a gemstone before.

The white gold metal is most certainly metal, but Tartaglia trusts that even though it is, the Tsaritsa must have somehow taken precautions against frostbite. Indeed, even though the gem radiates a familiar chill, the fittings are only mildly cool against his skin, when proximity and contact should have sapped the metal of all warmth.

#|| a polar star in darkest depths ; ajax #svnsworn #|| svnsworn ; tsaritsa #//UR GOOD LIGHT #and I know I held onto this for a bit but I hope it's worth the wait

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wolint · 5 months

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FRESH MANNA

THE BURNING FIERY FURNACE

Daniel 3

You are never responsible for the way others see or react to you, but you are responsible for how you, react, carry yourself and the impression you create!

These boys were shaken by the circumstances they were in but were not stirred out of their faith. They were fully committed even unto death.

Are you yearning for stability amid the gritty circumstances of life? Is your life shaken by obstacles at work, challenges in marriage, chronic health issues, or a rebellious child? You know… those things that keep you awake at night. Are you shaken to the core?

Most people wear their problems and despair like a coat for the world to see. They allow their faith to be stirred by whatever threatens them and unfortunately many succumb to the problems. How many of us have ever been shaken by life’s challenges like these boys?

What kind of shaking would it take for us to reject the Lord when threatened?

People are threatened daily with all kinds of things, “if you don’t do this or that, if you don’t do as you’re told, this will happen to you.”

How many of us will stand firm in our faith when faced with such gruesome threats as these boys faced?

They were deeply shaken but their faith wasn’t stirred according to verse 17. We don’t care! They declared! We have no fear, not moved, or threatened enough to serve your gods.

We too must be committed and determined to focus on God, regardless of the threat, and not to be troubled.

The enemy always has plans to steal, kill and destroy the children of God with whatever he likes, from sickness, relationship breakdown, loss of income to stagnation, all of which the Lord expects us to hand over to Him instead of allowing them to shake us.

Will people see and know something is wrong just from looking at you?

These boys were shaken as they were bound and thrown in the furnace, BUT they were not stirred as they walked amid the flame, praising the Lord.

Nebuchadnezzar heard and was astonished at their sound and songs of praise instead of screams of agony. Why!

Because the Lord walked in the furnace with them as promised in Psalm 23:4.

They were truly not shaken, only the ropes binding them were burnt, their clothes didn’t burn, nor did they smell of smoke.

I vowed when I understood this chapter that I could be shaken as many of us are by the storms of life but I’ll never allow it to stir me, no matter what I go through, nobody will ever tell from my expression, clothing and body language. I will never allow despair to smell on me or allow affliction to burn me.

John 8:36 says we have been set free, every bond has been burnt.

The enemy uses all kinds of chains to bind us in the furnace of life, but we must allow the Lord to keep us anchored by His word and Spirit, so we are not stirred.

These boys didn’t argue with the king, they didn’t beg, and they stated the truth and their faith in God. There is no use in arguing as if we could be shaken from our principles, faith, and spiritual integrity. The enemy will always drag us in front of the “king,” but Jesus says not to worry about what to say, The Holy Spirit will empower us according to Matthew 10:19.

Faith, commitment and integrity pay as we see in verse 30. The king appreciated the integrity shown by the Hebrew boys.

PRAYER: Lord of host, grant me the courage to never be shaken in the furnace of life, knowing that you’ll always deliver me in Jesus’s name. Amen.

Shalom

WOMEN OF LIGHT INT. PRAYER MIN.

#spotify #devotional #christianpost #women's ministry #biblestudy #biblestudy christianpost women's ministry #biblestudy christianpost 'women's ministry #conference #family #prayer meeting

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femdomliterature · 6 months

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FemLit 0262 - Humiliation - I

Why does so much on here has to be about humiliating your boy? I’m a gentle domme. Like many other gentle dommes I don’t humiliate my boy or someone else’s boy. I don’t need to be or act like a freaking bitch to have my boy’s submission.

Let’s coat and modify the above points with a large dose of positive reinforcement shall we. And for those wondering; yes, that’s exactly how it works for my babyboy. Also, I left some points out. Ex, fucking an inflatable doll?! Seriously, I laughed out loud!

Name calling (stupid, worthless, etc.) => Compliment him as often as possible. Call him beautiful, handsome, dashing, hell the list of possibilities is endless. Before you know it you’ll have a boy who’ll not only radiate at your side but who will also start blushing adorably under your words

Praise your boy when he’s doing something good. Tell your boy how proud you are of him.

Belittling him or his “equipment” (tiny dick, little willy, etc.) => Name his “equipment”. Choose a name or endearment that fits either your boy’s personality or the physical aspect of his manhood. Regardless if your boy’s locked up or not. Use the name when you’re referring to his cock.

Forced cross-dressing / Wearing women’s clothing (maids outfit?) anywhere => On the condition you have a similar size, have him wear one of your t-shirts/sweaters/panties/stockings. Don’t be surprised if said t-shirt/sweater now becomes ‘his’ after a while. If you’re not the same size, when you’re out shopping for you, buy him the same t-shirts/sweater in his size. If you’re into feminizing your boy turn him into a high end call girl, not some 5$ cheap whore.

Shopping for lingerie (for you or for him) => YES! Take your time while shopping. Enjoy it! Let your boy point out what he likes as well. (Doesn’t mean you have to take whatever he likes now does it?)

Have him wearing a butt-plug in public => YES! Tease your boy about how ready he’ll be for you when you go home afterwards.

Wearing women’s panties or pantyhose under street clothes => YES! Lord knows my boy looks so freaking gorgeous in them! I have no doubt your boy looks just as stunning.

Masturbating for you or a group => Group or not show your boy off, be proud of how he looks and sounds. You’re the reason he’s a gorgeous ,wanton mess after all.

Eating his own (or other men’s) cum => YES! All good boys clean up their messes.

Shave his genitals yourself, then make him keep them clean shaven => YES! Of course I shave my boy’s genitals. It not only lets him know who owns him, it creates a deep bond with your boy.

Telling others about your lifestyle => Our closest friends know about our lifestyle. Speak proudly about your submissive boy when you do, having his submission is gift.

Prostate or other type of milking => Yes! Your boy’s body belongs to you entirely.

Being naked around the house => Hell yes! There’s no such thing as not appreciating your naked boy.

Anal penetration (dildo, strap-on, etc.) => Yes! You’d be surprised how your boy blooms whenever you’re inside him, how he needs to be taken apart by your girlcock.

Being naked outdoors => Yes! Why do you think I take my boy to nude saunas or naturist beaches? I notice the occasional head turn when we walk on by. Placing my hand on his ass as we pass to let them know he’s mine in that instant? Try it, watch your boy’s reaction. You can thank me later.

Being photographed (or video recorded) => There’s no such thing as taking too many pictures of videos or your boy, ever.

Suck a realistic dildo / Forced bi-sexuality (make him suck another’s cock) => Like so many other women, watching or picturing your boy with another man is a huge turn on. Tell him how gorgeous he would look/looks with another man, no matter who tops or bottoms. Tell him how wet it would make/makes you.

Drinking your urine => In case it’s one of your kinks, turn it into a gift from you to him because that’s exactly what it is.

Doing just about anything sexual to himself while you (or others) watch => Yes! Your boy is there for your pleasure. In case you have other people present, show your boy off. Be proud of him, after all, he belongs to you. Not them.

Whatever you end up doing with your boy, with a positive attitude you can achieve so much more, often surprising your boy for coming to want/need/crave that what you planted in his brain.

#female led relationship #femlit

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gotnofucks · 3 years

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Can I please please please have short dark! Sherlock drabble? I love him so much and your fic is like awesome 😎

Title: Death by Pleasure

Pairing: dark!Sherlock x Reader

Summary: Death by pleasure is not a thing. Is it?

Words: 435

Warning: Non-con/Dub-con, smut, 18+ ONLY

A/N: Sorry this request took so long. I’m gonna leave this for my girl @navybrat817 because I appreciate her.

You cried out under him, drool and snot sticking to the cloth stuffed inside your mouth, his hard length thrusting in and out of you so fast it made the whole bed shake. You tried to lose yourself in the never-ending blue of his eyes, tried to focus on them to escape from pain and pleasure that seemed to have become one.

“Oh no, none of that” Sherlock growled and pulled on your hair, mashing his pelvis to your clit, bringing you back to reality, back to him. The grunts that escaped him caught in your throat, choking pleasure spiking up your spine and you shook your head.

Your muffled protests did nothing to deter him, a nasty smirk spreading on his face as he felt your thighs beginning to tremble. At this point, you could not differentiate between pain and pleasure. Every brush of his knuckles along your nipples felt like a hot lick of ice and you keened and sobbed.

“You can give me another one, come on sweet girl, give it to me.” He ordered, his sweat slicked curls sticking to his forehead, kiss bruised lips peppering over your own and you clenched around him, holding his iron hard length in the velvet embrace of your heat and washing over him. Shards of electricity prickled all along your skin, crackling as you came down from another high. How many had it been yet?

Your skin was bathed in his sweat, his stench in your nose, the taste of his essence coating your tongue and the devious glint of his eyes engraved in your brain.

The mattress was soaked with the combination of his spent and yours, a continuous trickle from your cunt like a river from its origin. You didn’t realize he’d taken away the gag until you found yourself greedily gulping air, your neck wearing the marks of his fingers as a pet proudly dons its collar.

“Please.” You begged. His desire, his passion, his undeterred pace had you folding over and falling like a house of cards, and he was the wind. The wind never listens. It sweeps through, taking everything and leaving behind only ruins.

He was marking a cross across four lines, keeping a tally for how many times he’d had you shattering under him, a smug smile deepening the cleft on his chin. Your watery eyes met his, and he crawled back to you, holding you in his warmth like so many times before. His roughness made you crave this tenderness, regardless of how fleeting you know it is going to be.

“It’s only an experiment.” He whispers.

Permanent Taglist: @what-is-your-wish @shooting-star-love @stanmysoul @sweeterthanthis @scentedsongrebel @muralskins @rayofdawnworld @donutloverxo @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @angrythingstarlight @rockyrogers @slothspaghettiwrites @nerdygirl8203

Henry & Sherlock : @agniavateira @angelofthorr

#dark!sherlock x reader #sherlock x reader #dark!sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock holmes x reader #sherlock

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barnesandco · 3 years

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Little Hands (II)

Series Masterlist

You, Bucky, and Anastasia pay Bruce Banner a visit.

This is an entry for @star-spangled-bingo 2021. Word count: 1836. Square filled: “You don’t wanna know.”

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Warnings: More Sad Child. Needles, fear of. So much overthinking.

A/N: Gosh, I’m so glad I got this chapter edited in time. I hope you like it and I’m sorry for skipping out on y’all last week! To make up for it, there’ll be two updates this weekend, so look out for the next chapter tomorrow! Lmk what you thinkkkk

The Avengers Compound is every bit as spectacular as you could have possibly hoped, and yet you’re unable to fully appreciate it because of the sheer absurdity of the situation. Your hand is in the vice-tight grip of the supposed daughter of your neighbor, who happens to be an Avenger.

Said neighbor is pacing back and forth in front of you as you sit in Bruce Banner’s laboratory, with Anastasia beside you while you wait for Bruce to arrive. Ana is remarkably calm, her young features – the round cheeks, still-wet eyes – made mature by her abnormal silence. Something about her makes you think she’s used to this kind of tension. Something about her screams war-child. Perhaps this grip she has on you is the first demand she has made in a long time, the only tantrum she has ever been allowed to throw.

While you aren’t particularly experienced with children, you think you want her to feel safe with you, because it seems she hasn’t been elsewhere. Ana’s eyes flit around the room in the only behavioral indication of her youth – a childlike curiosity, shining in the face of this fancy, new place that gleams like a toy store. Every now and then, her gaze jumps back from the alien appearance of the lab to her father (?) who seems intent on wearing a hole in the tiles with his pacing.

It is beginning to wear on you: both Bucky’s pacing and Ana’s steadily increasing anxiety. He hasn’t said a word to her since he opened the envelope, only asked that you accompany him to the Compound seeing as Ana won’t go alone with him (You would have gone with him even if that hadn’t been so. Though the nature of your relationship is ambiguous at times, the strength of your friendship is not. You’ll figure this out. You won’t leave him alone). Clearly, there is some unspoken memory that has him convinced the claim in the letter is plausible. Neither of you would be here if it wasn’t.

Bucky doesn’t talk too much about his past. He has offered a few of the shattered shards of his past reflection to you in the few night-caped moments you have hammered on his door upon hearing shouts across the hall. Between that, and what you know thanks to Black Widow’s file dump, the big Avengers’ in-fight in Europe last summer, the consequent resolution to the Accords, and Bucky’s publicized pardon, you can guess at the traumas that lurk in the depths of him.

They’re traumas that are closer to the surface of his eyes now, pulled forth by this new life, this little soul that has no business with such dark things, and the implication that this holds. Ana, innocent as she may be, is an insinuation of what else might have been unwillingly torn from Bucky.

You don’t want to think about it, because it hurts to do so, because you care for him, in many, many ways. It seems that Anastasia is also starting to tire of it. With every step Bucky takes, her hand tightens on yours. Fortunately, soon, the door to your left opens, and Bruce Banner enters his lab.

He's appropriately disheveled for this hour in the morning. Under his pristine lab coat, one of his shirt buttons is done into the wrong buttonhole, but his eyes are alert, frantic even, though you get the feeling that this is a man always on the edge of escape.

Bucky lets out a breath he seems to have been holding at the same time as his shoulders tense. “Thanks for coming so early, Doctor Banner. I wouldn’t have called if—”

“You never call, so I know it must have been important. But it looks like I’ve kept you waiting anyways,” Banner says, his eyes widening as they move from Bucky, to you, to the little girl at your side. “What’s the matter? You know I’m not a medical doctor, right?” He asks, putting a work bench between himself and his visitors.

Bucky clears his throat, and doesn’t quite know how to say what he needs to. After a few more seconds of hesitation, in which Banner waits patiently, Bucky extracts the envelope containing the fateful letter from his pocket, and hands it over.

The furrows in Doctor Banner’s brow multiply spontaneously, and when he looks up, Bucky gestures with a subtle nod of his head to Ana. He has yet to explain your presence, but you think Doctor Banner is a smart man. It won’t take more than Anastasia’s tight hold on you for him to put two and two together. Sometimes, a scared child is just that, no matter how unusual.

Most of their ensuing conversation is held at a lowered volume, set by Bucky, probably out of courtesy for Ana. You can hear snatches and phrases, most of them confirmations of things you had expected and some, not so much. Lobby security cam footage… fingerprints… paternity test… serum… blood sample…

By the end of it, some facsimile of a plan seems to have evolved between the two men, because Doctor Banner turns away with a smile and you, taking it as a welcome, stand and approach him. He rounds his desk and shakes your hand, exchange introductions though he hardly needs one, and then, he crouches, the way Bucky had, and offers Ana his hand.

“Hi, I’m Bruce.”

“Ana.”

Bucky steps forward. “Anastasia—” the name is clumsy on his tongue, because he’s scared. You can see it, and you hope he knows you are, too, but you’ll stand with him regardless, “—Bruce is going to check that you aren’t sick.”

“I’m okay.”

“We need to be sure.”

“Okay.”

Banner pulls out a chair, and you’re about to sit Ana down on it, when she pushes you gently into it, and sits on your lap. You can do nothing but wrap your arms gently around her, so she doesn’t fall. The apology in Bucky’s eyes is melted with a sympathetic smile. It’s alright. A child developing an inexplicable affection for you is not the worst thing to ever happen to you.

Ana is warm and a comfortable weight on you, and you hold her as loosely as you can, feel the movement of her chest against your arms with each breath. Her hair is a mix of wool-thick and silk-soft against your chin, smelling faintly of the sugar-sweet strawberry scent found in children’s shampoos. Someone took care of her.

Someone she isn’t asking for. What kind of child doesn’t ask for their mother, past the initial, momentary heartbreak? How has she come to terms with the apparent change in custody, when the new custodian hasn’t?

Whether Bucky is to be the new guardian has yet to be determined. You can see Bruce pulling out a syringe and preparing a vial. You wonder if she’s scared of needles. Bucky flinches at the sight of them, even now. He’s said that his disdain for the cold clinicism of medicine dates back to long before Hydra. Medical equipment reminds him of worrying that his best friend was going to die. It’s the fear he has harbored longest, longer than his fear of war, of gunshots in the dark, of blood on his hands.

Ana shares it. When she sees the needle, she screams, and Bucky lunges forward to help you hold her in place. She’s so, so much stronger than you thought and while you can hold her limbs, her head thrashes about, and so does her torso, making it impossible for Bruce to get to the inside of her elbow.

In the chaos, your eye lands on a trinket on a nearby desk, sitting there like a peace offering, literally beckoning to you. “Hey, Ana,” you whisper-yell, trying not to get hit in the jaw by her head. “Do you like animals? Cats? I have a friend who has lots and lots of cats, and I could take you to see them.” It’s working. You’re out of breath, but she’s quieting. Most little kids love cats. You love cats. “I think Bruce has a toy cat. See, over there?” You dare to lift an arm to point at the maneki-neko on the table. Ana stills. Her eyes follow the hypnotic movement, and the syringe at Ana’s elbow does its job.

When the bandage is put on, you and Bucky let go with twin nervous chuckles of relief and disbelief, and Bruce puts the vial in a machine. Ana hops off to approach the desk, and bats at the paw waving at her like a mirror of it.

“We should have the results soon. I think the others are starting to wake up, if you want to say hi,” Bruce says, taking off his glasses and wiping them on the corner of his lab coat.

“Maybe later,” you say, seeing that Bucky is hardly in any position to converse casually with his teammates right now. Not to mention, it’d be a lot of work to explain Ana, especially before having any sort of confirmation of who she is.

Bucky pulls out a chair next to you while Bruce opens a laptop a few counters away, and an x-ray machine lifts its head behind Ana, who has moved on from the lucky cat, and is stroking the leaves of a flowering plant.

“Peace lily,” Bucky says, startling you. You look at him, the bags under his eyes, the way he almost looks his age right now, and fight the urge to hold his hand. “It’s the first flower I bought for my apartment. I put it in a community garden after a nightmare about the war. Didn’t feel right for me to have it.”

He's talking about the Second World War. The war always refers to his first war. You think he’s talking about peace, and not the lily, after what he’s done. After what he was forced to do.

“It’s not your fault,” is an automatic response, and never enough, especially for the war, because at least he was in his own senses, even if he was drafted. It always elicits a self-deprecating laugh, but right now, he’s too tired for even that.

Right now, he can only watch as the x-ray camera follows Ana around the room, from the peace lilies, to an Amazon elephant’s ear, to a strange sculpture made from Coca-Cola cans glued together by what looks like spider-webs.

Too soon, Bruce calls you over to his work station. You follow Bucky, one eye on Ana.

“She’s yours,” Bruce says, and Bucky inhales sharply. Now, you do take his hand, stroke the metal ridges with your calloused thumb. “But she has disproportionately more of your DNA than her mother’s.”

“What does that mean?”

Bruce wrings his hands. “She’s not a complete clone, but nearly a genetic copy. 80% of a clone, if you will.”

Bucky is growing increasingly uncomfortable, shifting next to you. “How’s that possible?”

“You don’t wanna know.”

#SSB2021 #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes x female reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfic #reader insert #fanfiction #marvel fanfiction #marvel fanfic #marvel #mcu #fanfic

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dreamii-yume · 3 years

Text

@shikigamiuwu said :

“Epel’s have a crush to y/n since they meet them and has confessed there love for y/n many times but y/n reject him. So since it was here birthday he thought of confessing again since he has birthday pass, but Y/n reject him again since he has a crush to Vil or Rook (whoever you want) to Epel’s demise, so Epel’s became so frustrated and angry that he just rape y/n and manipulate him on think y/n is not worthy to be with Vil’s so he can have y/n for himself.”

••••••••••

You, my good bitch, have sent like- four big-brained ideas for not only Epel but SILVER BIRTHDAY CRUMBS and I am ascending. Yume does not deserve this, I–

Warnings : Non-Consensual Touching | Non-Con | Yandere

“I like you.”

If it happened to be your first-time hearing Epel say those three words to you in such an affectionate manner, words that are obviously meant to be taken as a confession, it would’ve been enough to put you through a coma because of shock. You’ll be all flustered and probably stutter like a toddler learning how to speak for the first time, trying to figure out if it was a joke or not, despite the obvious signs. I mean...It was a confession from such a beautiful boy after all and you don’t really consider yourself as someone who can reach that level of beauty so, how can you not panic? If it were the first time, you wouldn’t know what to do, what words you should say, or which feelings you should prioritize. You’d be totally lost!

Except…This was no first time.

How many times had this beautiful boy confessed to you over the course of a few months? You weren’t counting, but you do know that you rejected each one of them respectfully and thoroughly. You didn’t why he kept coming back, he’s a lot more persistent than he lets on. “...How many times are you gonna tell me that?” You can answer him as differently as you want, but Epel would only smile at you and say the same thing every time.

“Until you can say that you like me back.”

The first time was as true as it could get, you were flustered, in the state of disbelief, plenty of eye movements going everywhere, grateful but unsure, and nervous sweat formed on your forehead. He loves you in a romantic sense, but even if he was someone precious to you, you just can’t see him as someone more than a really good friend, family even. “...But I keep telling you, I already like someone else.” It was your only excuse; it was a weak reason but at least it wasn’t a lie, Epel should know it more than anyone. It shuts him up, unable to say anything that could counteract your words and at first glance, it looks like a sign of giving up but soon, he’d just shrug it off like you never said anything in the first place.

It was troublesome, Epel wasn’t forcefully pushing his personal ideologies into you but having to tell you something that you already know is tiring to say the least. You wanted to be polite and even appreciate his honesty, but the more times he confesses, the more desensitized you get. Your rejections went from being apologetic to giving out an exasperated sigh and a shake of your head, just wanting to get it over with. It’ll just be the same anyways, the same confession and the same response, there was no point in sugar coating your words at this point.

“I like you.”

Epel might have thought that he’d get the response he wanted if he confesses to you on his birthday, but you could just shake your head in pity. No, you weren’t going to give in to the fact that it’s his special day and feel obligated to reciprocate his feelings because of it. You’d be lying otherwise, and you’re not about to build a relationship out of lies...Seriously, when is he ever going to stop terrorizing you with all these confessions, you’re starting to feel really bad about yourself here.

“Like I said a million times before, Epel.” You narrowed your eyebrows together with a stern and impeccable voice. “I don’t like you that way, I have someone I already like—“

“It’s Vil-san, right?”You widened your eyes as you looked back at Epel, surprised that he gave up a different answer than the usual. He was wearing the same smile as he does before, but up until now, you just can’t stand the fact on how empty it feels.

“H-How did you—“

“It’s obvious. Anyone could easily guess it if they observed you enough...Especially with how you constantly you look at him.” He said, his clear cerulean eyes burning holes into your soul. This made your cheeks flushed, quickly looking down...Do you really act that weird when it comes to Vil? It’s true that he makes your heart flutter and his presence was just something that you can’t turn a blind eye into but...You always thought that you were keeping your feelings cool and low. “What, don’t tell me you’re not aware of it yourself?”

Epel laughed, his hand covering his mouth like a delicate princess. “You’re really funny, charming even when your making such a dumb face too, hehe...” He said with a tinge of adorable red tainted on his flawless skin, rosy cheeks that you could only ever wish in your dream to have. You gulped as he looked back at you, staring straight into your unsettled eyes, making your body tense without knowing the actual reason as to why. “...But that’s only because I really like you that I’m willing to accept any of your bad characteristics. What do you think will I think if I were a normal person? If I were Vil-san?”

Your mouth closed and open multiple times, trying to find the words you want to say. Somehow, you began to piece together what he wanted to say and yet, you couldn’t actually stop him from saying it out loud. You knew it yourself; you didn’t need someone to pressure you into admitting something you already knew. Was Epel this much of a shrewd person before? Regardless, his pink polished lips twisted into a chilling smile.

“I’d think you’re disgusting.”

“You think you’re so smooth, following him around and eavesdropping every time he opens his mouth to talk just to hear his voice. You’re probably the type to steal some stuff from him too, it’s creepy!” Epel said, walking over to you as you kept your head held down, ashamed to be called out like this. “That makes you no different from a crazed fan, a stalker. Vil-san already gets plenty of those, he doesn’t need another one.”

You gasped as Epel grasped your chin, his eyes remaining as dark and cruel as you remembered them before, only that this time, he was no longer smiling. “…That’s why it’s disgusting. That’s not the kind of beauty Vil-san is looking for.” He said as you tried backing away, only for him to keep on stepping forward to stay close to you. “He’ll never acknowledge someone like you.”

You yelped as Epel suddenly pushed your shoulders down, tackling you down to the ground. Grunting, you landed in a not-so gentle manner with his beautiful face hovering above you. “...But I do.” He added, a small smile reappeared in his face, it was more like a pity smile if anything else.

You were getting scared, there was fear in your eyes alone as you try to search for your way out of this situation. Epel has a small structure despite being growing man himself, the different in size between the two of you are barely even noticeable! But with that cold, intimidating gaze, it feels as if you were forced to shrunk down beneath him. “E-Epel—“ Your voice calling out his name only became an encouragement for him to move his hands freely around your body. Even when you widened your eyes as he suddenly lifted up your shirt to expose your chest.

“W-Wait— no!” You can protest all you want, but even struggling against him as a fit resilience did nothing to reach conscience. Your breath was shaking as he merely swayed your flinging arms away, already weakened by your own will, and worked his way into freeing your mounds to be groped. His hand reached the underneath the skirt that you were wearing for his party and wasted no time in reaching for your underwear. Quavering lips turned into gasps of panic as he makes its way down to your erogenous zones, his nimble fingers able to send pleasures down your body. It didn’t take too long before the realization came to you, just how serious this is, that tears began to well up in your eyes.

He took no mind to it though, you plead and beg but you were met with cold, uncaring eyes as you felt a finger sliding in pass your folds. The way you squeaked like a mouse as he bit on your breast too, it was all too insignificant to really reach his ears at all…Looking deeper in the depths of those seemingly gentle eyes, it slowly occurred to you the emotions that he was hiding underneath there. Something that you’ve never noticed until now, or something that you never really bothered to look into, even if it was just for a split second.

All this time, Epel...was angry.

“S-Stop!” As if yelling out in a demanding voice can stop him, it only made him growl in irritation as he thrusted yet another finger inside you. Your willpower was incredibly weak, your stomach was already forming a knot ready to burst out any moment just by his fingers alone. With a scissor-like motion, it’s almost like he knew where to hit you, which places would feel good and would irk you even more, he even dug deeper down your entrance to explore undiscovered places.

An orgasm was inevitable, he was surprisingly skilled with his hands and your body wasn’t able to take all of that pleasure all at once and bursts right then and there. The toll on your body it took had you writhing on the ground, sobbing at the light-headed feeling spreading inside your brain. Epel seemed satisfied though, pulling out his fingers completely to marvel at how soaked you’ve made his fingers to be. “…You’re amazing.” He said, smiling down at you as he began to shuffle in between your legs, not even letting you rest for even a minute. “This is why I like you so much.”

“Please, stop...! W-Why…Why are you doing this…!?”

He leans in, wiping the tears off your cheek as he shook his head stubbornly. “Do you still…not understand?” He said, that chilling smile on his face was making it all the more terrifying for you as he comes and undo his pants. It’s not about whether or not you understood his motive here because you already had way too much time to do that, you were just in a state of disbelief that you’re just…doing anything you can to call off this reality your experiencing at this moment. “I said it over and over again, didn’t I?”

“I like you.”

Epel then chuckled, before shaking his head as if to correct himself from his own wording. “…No, maybe that’s why you couldn't understand.” He said, his smile becoming wider and wider. “Because it’s love.”

“I love you, (Y/N).”

#yandere twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland #epel felmier #yandere epel felmier #yandere #Birthday Crumbs (Epel)

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studiobeebo · 3 years

Text

~♡ Winter Warmth ♡~

Fandom: Jujutsu Kaisen

Pairing: Megumi Fushiguro x Reader

Warnings: None

Words: 2.1K

Genre: warm and soft like mash potato.

A/N: has this trope of sharing winter clothes been done a million times? yes. will that stop me? no.

as per usual, reblogs are the best way to get my works around since tags tend to be unreliable so they’re greatly appreciated! enjoy!

“You didn’t bring a scarf. Or a hat. Or anything.”

Your current ‘mission’ partner’s characteristically irritated tone broke you out of your current daze as you shifted your eyes towards him as the two of you walked side by side, close enough that it was clear the two of you were at least friends, but not so close that things were...weird.

“Oh, no..” You hummed, a puff of steam escaping with your words and just as soon evaporating into the cold winter air. “To be honest I didn’t think it would be this cold. Oh- but it’s not that bad, no worries.”

He looked at you for a second before shrugging and facing forward once again, the previous silence between the two of you settling back in as your eyes drifted back to your right where rows and rows of shop windows twinkled with Christmas lights and other inviting decorations.

See, the so called ‘mission’ the two of you had been sent on wasn’t really a mission at all, it was more like an errand to satisfy everyone back at school’s ‘urgent’ need for a variety of coffees, hot chocolate’s, and tea lattes, which didn’t sound like much, however your oh so gracious sensei insisted you go to this very specific cafe that was about a half an hour walk away instead of the one that was barely a ten minute walk away. Fushiguro seemed particularly annoyed with that, but then again, when wasn’t he annoyed by one thing or another.

The only thing was that you assumed he was bothered because Gojō had made yet another needlessly difficult request of him, however while he was annoyed with Gojō , that wasn’t exactly the reason why. The reason he was particularly peeved was because his teacher said the two of you just haaad to go together. “It’s safer that way.” , he said “Treat it like a mission!”, he said.

Bullshit.

Gojō was testing him on something even he didn’t want to think about, let alone admit to. Fushiguro told him one thing, ONE THING about you, just an off handed comment on how much you had improved using your cursed technique in such a short amount of time, and that’s all it took for Gojō to give him that fucking look. At least, Fushiguro thought it was only one thing, but the more Gojō started making little comments about the two of them, about how he thinks they’d be sooo cute together, he realized that maybe he had been unconsciously talking about you more than he thought. That was true too, but he wasn’t one for much talk and the little that he did say wasn’t enough to tip Gojō or anyone else off about his apparent interest in you. As it turns out, the phrase ‘actions speak louder than words’ is true, and that’s especially so for someone as observant as Gojō is.

He saw all the little things that most people probably didn’t have a second thought about, but he had known Megumi for a long time now so to him, his actions were clear as day. The little touches on your shoulder to gently move you out of the way, the way he would tend to gravitate towards you whenever all of you first years were on missions together, how distracted he’d be if you had a bit of a hard time fighting off a curse. Gojō could go on and on about the tiny ways Megumi treated you better, with more care, than anyone else, but he chose not to pester him too aggressively. He knew if he did that, Megumi would shut him down just as aggressively and dig deeper into the denial about his feelings for you. So instead, Gojō pushed him in little ways, like teaming you two together for training practices and in this case, sending you out together to get drinks.

Megumi knew that of course, that Gojō was messing with him, but man was it hard to say no when your face lit up and you exclaimed that you could actually go for a hot chocolate. So now here you were, walking side by side in silence that was currently doing nothing but make him overthink. Should he say something? Would that be weird? Or were you off put by the fact that he wasn’t saying anything? All the while he had that usual grumpy look on his face that was really just one of concentration, but you didn’t take it to heart regardless. You had known him long enough now to know that even when he did look upset, he kind of just had a resting grumpy face and it didn’t necessarily mean anything. Still, you would admit that you were feeling a bit awkward.

You liked Fushiguro, maybe a tad bit more than what you admitted to your other friends, but while the two of you were friendly and worked just fine together, you had never really spent time alone with one another outside of school, and as you walked through the slightly crowded sidewalks you realized you didn’t really know how he felt about you. Sure you were associates and classmates, but did he see you in that way? Did he only tolerate you? Or maybe he was just indifferent, not thinking of you as much more or much less than someone he worked along side. Even though you didn’t have any answers to said questions, you couldn’t say you were nervous to be out with him. In fact it was kind of nice, even if you weren’t talking much, and you were okay with settling and just internally gushing about it to yourself. So you kept to yourself with a slight smile on your face, stopping for a second here or there when something in one of the shop windows caught your eye or to press your cold hands to your mouth and blow warm air onto them.

You had said you were fine, but the temperature seemed to keep dropping, and when you felt a small damp prickle of iciness on your nose you realized why. That one snowflake slowly turned to many as snow began to fall steadily from the sky, catching on your hair and jacket but melting as soon as it came in contact with your cheeks.

“Pfft, no wonder it’s gotten so cold. I seriously thought we weren’t going to get any snow until later on in the season, right?” You asked, turning to him with a laugh as you rubbed your arms as if that would do much to help through your coat.

“Guess not.”, he said with another shrug. “Doesn’t look like it’ll stick though, we should be fine.”

He peered out of the corner of his eye at you, watching as you shoved your hands into your pockets and gave him a nod before looking up as you walked to watch the snow fall in a childlike awe. Something ticked in him, another one of those little irritating itches that he would get whenever you would do something like that. Something so simple, yet he couldn’t bring himself to look away. That, and the irrational part of him that was currently screaming at him to do something stupid, an internal voice that was getting louder and louder with every fall of a snowflake and shiver of your shoulders until finally he just had to give in.

He let out an annoyed huff, not at you but at the fact that he felt so stupid and absurdly flustered as he unwrapped his scarf and took his gloves off, temporarily shoving them into one pocket as he stopped to lean over and wrap his scarf snuggly around your neck instead. You jumped a little in surprise as you tore your eyes from the sky and gave him a quizzical look, but before you could say anything a pair of gloves that were a little too big for you were shoved into your hands as well.

“Oh, thank you but I’m really-“

“It’s fine.” He cut you off, but not in a mean way. You noticed the hint of pink on his cheeks, but surely that was due to the cold, right? He sighed again in an attempt to make himself feel a little less tense as he continued on in a more relaxed tone. “Seriously, I was getting too warm anyways.”

Now you really couldn’t help but smile as you gave him a small nod before slipping on both gloves. They were too big just like you thought, but warm, and the fuzziness bristling in your stomach seemed to help warm you up as well. You absent mindedly tugged his scarf a little closer around you as the the two of you began to walk again, and your own cheeks began to heat up a bit as you inhaled his scent. Though you couldn’t really pinpoint what it was, it was like a little not-so-gentle reminder that he really did just give you his scarf and gloves to wear. You tried not to let it get to you, he was just being nice and he said he was too warm anyways, but you still had to bite your inner cheek to keep yourself from smiling too wildly and risk him thinking you’re a total creep.

“Thanks Megumi, I appreciate it.”

Oh god no.

He thought he had steeled himself but that caused him to stop in his tracks, only for a moment or two, before his body went into self preservation mode and moved on its own, but the way his heart skipped a beat in response to something as dumb as you calling him by his first name for the first time was everything but calm and collected. Still, as much as he tried to keep even an ounce of what he was really feeling from showing on his features, it only took that little halt in his step for you to realize what you just said.

“Oh, shit- I’m sorry. That’s probably kind of weird for me to call you.”

“It’s fine.” He repeated the same words he had said only a few minutes ago, only this time he didn’t sound nearly as confident. Whatever was going on in his chest was not, in fact, fine, but what was he supposed to say? ‘You treating me like I’m a close friend seriously fucks with my doubts of having a thing for you’? For heaven’s sake he could take out a literal murderous demon in the blink of an eye but god forbid he try to keep his normally cool composure in front of who he now had to admit was his crush.

“If it really isn’t fine you don’t have to act like it is.” You laughed out awkwardly, still having trouble trying to read his features.

He hated seeing that bit of doubt and worry in your eyes, enough so that he shoved what he was feeling down even if it was just long enough for him to give some reassurance that you referring to him so casually was actually more than just ‘fine’.

“I’m not ‘acting’. If it really bothered me I would say something about it. Trust me, I’ve gotten good at telling people off...” He grumbled, his mood slightly souring at the mere thought of what Gojō would do if he could see him now, with color tinting his cheeks and his brain scrambling for the right words to say which, judging by the short laugh you gave that was simply music to his ears, he had successfully done.

“True, true. Guess I’ll just have to stay on your good side then, yeah? Dunno if I could take it if you were actually mad at me.”

He scoffed and muttered in response as he trudged ahead of you.

“As if you would ever be on my bad side…”

“Hm?”

“I said ‘can we hurry up before it gets worse outside’. If we take much longer Gojō is going to start blowing up my phone.”

You laughed and then smiled in a way that you could only imagine looked incredibly goofy as you stared at his back while he continued walking ahead of you, maybe just a tiny bit giddy that he was ok with you being a little more personal and less formal with him. Surely that meant the two of you were friends, right? Or maybe he could think of you as something more some day…

“Are you coming with?”

“Yeah, yeah!” You exclaimed, shaking your head and leaving those thoughts for another time in order to allow yourself to enjoy this moment as it was, warmed in the face of the winter chill by a cozy set of winter clothes and a fuzzy feeling in your heart.

#hi im really soft for megumi #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen x reader #megumi fushiguro #megumi fushiguro x reader #bee writes

346 notes · View notes

1994sunflower · 3 years

Note

You mentioned that sometimes Michael and Y/N would get sexual during zoom classes. Could you maybe write about one of those times?

this was just....so hot I-

in which michael distracts you during zoom class

It wasn’t something that was easy to get used to. Even months into the new reality. Because still, having your computer in front of you with several little boxes that held your classmates and professors with your notes in your lap as you sat on the couch, felt strange. Especially when, not being in the usual classroom, left you feeling a little less like you were learning something in class and more like you were watching a video with little motivation and the little attention span needed for it.

Michael’s presence wasn’t exactly helping your attention to stay on class either. Especially when he had you situated comfortably in his lap. You loved being so close to him and while at any other time you would be enjoying the feeling, melting back into his chest, you couldn’t right then as you moved your pencil to what your professor was saying. No matter how much you wanted to.

Your classmates could see the dangerous man behind you though you couldn’t be sure how many of the wide eyes, pointed fingers and gossiping moving lips were due to them watching your screen and recognizing the big body you were sitting on or the intricate tattoos of the arm that was in frame, wrapped around your body.

Shocked at who they were actually seeing in their class, being so passive and seeming so normal, with you being in his arms without looking the least bit scared or intimidated. Almost looking happy and accustomed to this side of him. Shockingly distant from the cruel and aggressive man they knew him to really be. Only half of him was visible, the other half just out of frame so they couldn’t see his face in its entirety. Just the recognizable stoic expression as he looked blankly at his phone or at you, fingers trailing your skin absentmindedly, while you listened to class.

Or maybe it wasn’t recognition at all and it was only acknowledging just how jarring it was to see your little body so completely eclipsed by the figure behind you.

It was the same reactions it was since the beginning of virtual learning. Ever since you and Michael were provided your first opportunity to feel like you were actually living together, alone, as a couple. Sure you had practically lived at his house for years but it was never anything official. You had your clothes there, a toothbrush, essentials and you nearly always slept there. But you still had your apartment and you would go back at least once a week.

Now however, you were together 24/7 every day, for months on end. Where you saw each other from morning to night, yet never getting tired of each other. Feeling comfortable because it felt so natural. Even in the uncertainty that was the world, you felt safe in your bubble with him. It was new and it felt titillatingly like the start of a new life with him, one that could continue on even after everything went back to normal. A future, a family.

It always felt as comfortable and right as it did right then when he was right with you even as you listened to your class. The professor droned about the structure of proteins, chemical transportation. All things you were familiar with. But still, you listened with rapt interest, trying to get as much integrated into your permanent knowledge as possible. That’s why you didn’t think twice about Michael sitting up slightly, making you move with him. You didn’t even care when he put his hand on your inner thigh.

But, it was kind of hard to ignore when he leaned forward and kissed your lips. Your eyes widened and you gasped against his lips, eyes drawn away from the screen and to your boyfriend. You ended the kiss quickly, planning on going right back to paying attention but Michael pushed your chin towards him and sealed your lips again.

You mumbled against his lips in surprise, kissing back for just a moment. It was hard to deny him completely, especially when his lips felt so good on yours. Each second you slowly moved him out of the camera range, just so that if any wandering eyes landed on you, they’d just see your side profile. Nothing else. Maybe see your lips moving.

But eventually, you pushed against his chest and glanced back at the screen and, still on, camera. “Michael!” You chastised, but a small playful smile still playing on your lips.

You were blushing when you turned back to the screen, hoping no one had seen anything, too busy paying attention to the professor’s lecture. You should’ve turned off the camera for a second. And you were proven to be so right on that front.

Even when you were trying desperately to catch back up to what your professor was saying, scribbling down the key words you managed to hear, whatever had gotten into your boyfriend never let up. He had been so silent, in his own little world and paying little mind to what you were doing, but that was gone. Whatever it was, had him in no way content with not feeling you like he wanted in that moment.

The hand resting on your inner thigh trailed up your skin until it was completely under your the hem of his oversized t-shirt you were wearing. The feeling of his rough grip on your thighs to your pelvis had you straightening up, your breath caught in your throat. His hand spread your legs slightly, just enough for his hand to fit, with an expertise only he had with your body. One arm was around your waist, preventing you from getting up as he moved your thin panties to one side. His lips at your ear, the one outside of the camera range, mumbling how much he loved you wearing dresses that had such easy access, even when you have class at home.

You still dress up daily for your classes, because it would keep your productive. Obviously Michael appreciated it too, just for a different reason.

Everything was so sudden, abrupt. One second, he had been silently staring at his phone, lost in his own thoughts and the next his fingers were on your pussy. Regardless, as his pushed his middle fingers down your slit, he felt you start getting wetter, coating his digit.

Your grip on his wrist was tight, “Michael.” You said through clenched teeth. You didn’t want to alert anyone that something was going on that shouldn’t be. Your face never left the camera and you may still seem completely normal expression wise, but your breathing was shallow. And yet still, you did nothing to move his hand or close your legs.

Besides it wasn’t abrupt, not really. Not for Michael at least who for the past 20 minutes, since your class had started had nothing but you running through his mind. And it was your fault. You were the one that, as soon as you sat on his lap when class started, had kept wiggling your hips. Each time you tried to get more comfortable, or didn’t understand something so your entire body moved in frustration. Each slight movement went straight to his hard cock straining against his jeans. Granted, he was the one that had made you sit on him, preferring to feel you rather than to have you on the opposite side of the spacious couch. Worse that you did all this while wearing his shirt that was so long on you, it qualified as a dress with nothing but your panties on underneath.

It also didn’t help that he noticed the same reactions you did. How your classmates were surprised at how a good, shy girl in their class, a bright student, could be in his arms. And then the flashes in his mind, memories of how that same girl they were looking at was also the one he could absolutely break with his dick and begged for it. How he had ruined you, marking you permanently as his, and they had no idea.

Even when his fingers were stuffing themselves in your cunt just out of their view, thinking your face was just scrunched in confusion at the material, looking down at your notes instead of down at his tattooed fingers knuckles deep inside of you.

Your hold on your pencil was tight, trying to keep it from falling out of your grip. But writing was downright useless. You couldn’t keep it still for long enough to actually get a word out, but then again, it wasn’t as if you really heard anything your professor was saying anymore.

You chanced a glimpse of yourself on the screen and didn’t miss the flushed look on your face, the way your mouth was open in a silent moan. But you tried to school your features back to a normal expression. Which didn’t work, especially not when Michael began moving his fingers in and out of you in a vigorous pace, seemingly relishing in the filthy sounds of your wetness.

Hopefully, you could pass your gasp as nothing more than a yawn. Your hips bucked against his hand, from pure reflex. “M-Mikey.” Your strict voice turned out to sound much more breathy and whiny than you intended for it to sound.

“Pay attention to class, little one.” He observed you with cold eyes, almost cruel teasing eyes. You closed your eyes to prevent them from rolling back at the sound of that name you loved so much. But then you snapped them right back open, terrified at how your expression could be interpreted by others, if they so happened to look at your little box.

Michael watched your face through the screen with twisted interest. Loving the way you tried so desperately to appear concentrated in class but each second you would bite your lip, scrunch up your face, drop your mouth open, or even look away entirely when you couldn’t control your lewd expressions. It sent a jolt of pride through him to know he was the one that was making you so weak and uncontrollable.

Your handwriting in your notes, which you had already long abandoned earnestly, was squiggly and broken, the words having nothing to do with what your professor was actually going through. Your thoughts felt blurred as only deep pleasure registered. Your mind was hyper-fixated on each of Michael’s movements, all his touches on your skin. The way his long fingers reached so deeply inside of your clenching hole. His fingers were dripping with your wetness, down to his knuckles and palm. His pace was brutal and you already felt the coil in your tummy. Your movements as his fingers curled inside you were subtle and the small moans you allowed to slip from your only slightly open mouth were imperceptible to the camera, just like his your shirt being hiked up to your waist.

Sure, you’d done something similar with him before. But never this brazenly, watching yourself trying not to fall apart on the very same camera that everyone else could see. They saw you as a good, sweet student. Not like this, not this girl who was letting her big, mean, boyfriend use her body in front of her class. Both of you realized that, just how differently they viewed you. And Michael was just spurred on more by it.

His thumb came up to your clit and moved in circles on your sensitive nub of nerves and your nails digging into his arm was enough to let him know you were going to cum. You didn’t want to say it out loud, even if they couldn’t hear you, it’d be too humiliating. To see your mouth move to say those filthy words in front of everyone, the way you no doubt would be unable to stop moaning as soon as your mouth opened.

And when Michael took your cue, stopping you from getting to that point, and moved just enough, just subtly enough that it wasn’t picked up by the camera, to free his hard dick from his jeans, your fingers, shaky and curled up from the pleasure, moved as quickly as you could to turn off the camera.

They wouldn’t have seen anyway, they could only see to just above your waist. But you were sure Michael wouldn’t try to hide the way he bounced you on his cock. And you wouldn’t have been able to hide the way your face morphed into one of a loud, screaming, cock-hungry slut when he finally split you in half.

With the camera off, you finally had more freedom. Enough to finally be able to yell at him, but you didn’t. You couldn’t when all he did was chuckle meanly as he raised you by your hips easily. Just enough for him to align himself to your entrance and just enough from him to lower you down to impale himself in you.

“Oh my…fuck” You threw your head back, unable to do anything but that. He was so big. Your class was long forgotten, just a droning voice in the background. You didn’t care about the notes you were missing, about what you were supposed to be learning.

His hold on your hips never went away as he thrusted up into you, bouncing your body up and down as he did. You felt his muscles flex each time. He moved your little body almost effortlessly. His thrusts weren’t fast but they were deep and rough, his balls slapping against your skin.

Your gaze was on the screen as he did so, but any attempt at focus and attention was useless.

Beta sheets

Hemoglobin

Oxygen Affinity

It all meant nothing to you right then.

All at once, with your panties pushed to the side as he drove into you, groaning behind you, your small body felt so full of his girth. Your walls felt pushed apart and you felt him everywhere, especially in those crevices that he filled as if you were made to fit him. Each time he rubbed against your walls, you let out moans worthy for a porn shoot.

With your back to him, you were forced to do nothing but watch your professor still talking and all your classmates listening like you should be right then. But instead, you were watching it all happen while you bounced eagerly on your boyfriend’s cock.

“That’s right, clench around me just like that.” One of Michael’s hands pushed their way up his large shirt adorning your body from behind you and kneaded one of your tits. “You like this, don’t you?”

You tried shaking your head but there was no use in lying.

His other hand came to rub your clit as his thrusts sped up. You were crying out, letting him keep bouncing you with your legs holding you up with as much support as you could muster. Your legs were spread almost completely for him, though facing your computer, baring yourself to your entire class, giving them an undisrupted view of your completely filled cunt.

Leaning forward, you placed your hands on his clothed knees to support your hips riding him to take him in and out of you at a quicker pace. “Yes, yes, yes”

You were whining out for more, your head thrown back to rest against his shoulder, forgetting the way you had been so chastising with him for trying to pull this just a few minutes before. With the way you were moaning, relishing in the way you felt so full with his big dick and how each thrust hit stimulated your walls and pleasurable spots just right, you were surprised you heard it.

“Let’s see….Y/N! You seem a bit camera shy today. So, what do you think?” Your professor’s voice cut through the chorus of moans, skin slapping and grunts filling the room.

No. You gasped as you heard your name being called, stopping your movements on his lap immediately and cutting off your filthy whimpers and moans. Michael slowed down too, but you weren’t sure if it was equally surprise or if it was to hiss in pleasure when you accidentally clenched around him too hard from the surprise. But he didn’t stop. His thrusts never ceased rutting into you.

It wasn’t a big class so your professor sometimes did cold calls. No doubt you suddenly turning off your camera just put more attention on you. But you were filled with dread almost immediately at the circumstances. There couldn’t be a worse time, not when you were currently being railed by your boyfriend. You hadn’t even heard the question.

You were already thinking of how you could play it off as a microphone issue that prevented you from answering, how you would apologize after class that your computer was acting up and that’s why you ignored her question.

But before you could even wrap your frazzled find around those options, Michael had already reached out and unmuted you. He wasn’t helping you in the least and by his tightened grip on you, it was clear he didn’t want to.

It almost felt like your heart dropped down to your stomach. Your face was burning with the embarrassed blush adorning you. They still couldn’t see you but you felt exposed nonetheless.

“Be a good student, little one.” His voice was almost mocking. It was worse when you felt him start thrusting harder, just enough for them to be unable to hear but for you to really feel it. You wished you could glare at him right then, so he could see the deer-in-the-headlights look in your eyes. But if anything, that would’ve just turned him on even more.

“I-I’m sorry.” You managed to get out, your voice shaky. You closed your eyes and you weren’t sure if it was in mortification or in trying to control your sounds as the tip of Michael’s cock hit you just right. “Co…oh, Could you, um, repeat the question. Please?” You squeaked.

“Sure!” If your professor noticed anything, her chipper voice didn’t give anything away. Michael began bouncing you on his lap again, impaling you entirely each time he brought you back down on his dick and you were helpless to do anything except this time try to pay attention to the words coming out of your professor’s mouth as you rode your boyfriend’s big cock. Even when you were on top, he had completely control. “Based on protein function, why do you think Carbon Monoxide is so toxic for the human system?

You took a deep breath. You knew the answer. You knew that you did. It was something you’ve already been over, you had found so interesting you memorized it by heart. But yet, with your mind just blurred by not only the circumstances of what exactly was happening and just how good Michael was fucking you right then, you couldn’t think of the answer. It was evading you entirely, your brain just blank.

“Is it be-” You cut off abruptly from one of Michael’s especially hard thrust and by his tongue’s exploration of your neck, you were sure he did it on purpose. He was enjoying this. It was almost painful when Michael began rubbing your clit in fast circular rotations until he pinched it. To keep that silent, to open your mouth and force yourself to be silent even when a scream of ecstasy threatened to rip from you as you clenched around him.

Fuck. It was all you could do, to say it in your mind to prevent from screaming for him to fuck you harder out loud. You couldn’t get caught. “Because of inhibition? Competitive?”

You were babbling out breathy responses, unsure if they even made sense together. But you couldn’t stop yourself. You needed for this to be over, so you can finally mute yourself again. But it seemed the universe wasn’t on your side, even when Michael took your legs, bending them so you had no support for yourself. Instead, only he controlled the pace as he held you nearly midair as he drilled into you. And you forced down a scream. He was so strong.

“Not quite.” Your professor responded and you saw her frown, it was wrong. How much it looked like she was looking directly at the lewd sight in front of your computer even with knowing your camera was off. Thinking she was staring at you but really staring at your boyfriend fucking you raw. “That can be a reason but certainly not the main one. Do you want to try again?”

You were shaking your head even when you knew she couldn’t see you but nonetheless you tried again. Only because Michael’s grip on you and the way he was whispering nothing but curse words in your ear convinced you that he wanted you to. “Fuck….shit, yeah, be a good girl while you’re getting fucked.”

“Th-h-he, um, the” You only let out a breathy little moan before you slapped your hand over your mouth, closing your eyes in alarm. Michael had such control of your body, you couldn’t even stop the sounds escaping you.

“Are you okay?” Your professor asked and you felt just a little more mortified because of it.

“Yes!” Your answer was a bit too forced but you trudged on, just trying not to get caught. “Sor-rry I’m just not feeling well.” You took a deep breath, “Affiinity! It locks h-hemo-ah-globin in R or T state. I can’t actually remember right now, sorry...”

You trailed off, already pushing your mind in that state past its limit. Just forcing yourself to be stable on that last sentence was a lot. Your body was moving by Michael’s hand a lot faster now.

“Just stop right there at R state, but you’re right.” You were already leaning forward, rolling your eyes back at the feeling of the change in angle with Michael inside of you, blindly clicking the mute button again. You barely had time to see the red line dash across the microphone drawing before Michael moved from under you.

The t-shirt dress you had been wearing was torn from your body so fast you wondered how he had managed it. Now, you were completely exposed. But then, he had you on all fours on the couch, your chest to the cushions below you and your hands balled up in front of you. He was behind you in an instant but his thrusts had stopped. You almost whined in frustration before you felt your laptop being placed directly in front of you. Your eyes widened as you glanced up, a perfect view of the class that was still happening.

Michael took your hair in one of his hands and pulled back, forcing your head up and gaze directly on the screen in front of you. His other hand was pulling your panties further to the side, giving him a better view of the cunt he was vigorously plowing into and holding you still enough for him to thrust into you from behind. You were so small, you didn’t extend that much further from where you two were connected.

“You’re such a fucking slut, getting fucked in the middle of class.” Michael moved over you so that your entire body was engulfed under his. You whimpered, back arching more at his words. The swear words leaving your mouth as you moaned and let out small screams, no longer trying to hide your sounds now that you hadn’t gotten caught. His hips were moving expertly each time they snapped against your body.

“Look at your classmates.” You felt his grip on your hair tighten and you moaned at the feeling. “They all think you’re such a good and innocent student, they have no idea how you’re letting me fuck you, right in front of them. When you should be learning. What would they say if they knew I ruined that good little girl just like they all expected me to, turned you into my submissive cocksleeve that begs me to do whatever I want with her. Even during communal class time.”

And you did, look. You looked directly at the screen with all your classmates faces and your professor who was going over the last portion of lecture materials. Even as Michael rutted you further into the couch. As you were letting your boyfriend fuck you during the learning period, while your professor talked and students asked questions, even having him inside you as you answered out loud with them, thrusting up, balls deep into you.

It was so sloppy, your wetness leaking all over the back of your thighs and his. Some spilling on your couch. But you couldn’t help it. Not when you were caged under Michael’s big body, just a click away from showcasing it to your entire class. Just how weak you were for him. Just how good he fucked you. How much he had corrupted you.

“You look so pretty like that,” Michael finally let go of your hair just to push your head into the couch, groaning at the way you got tighter from how much you liked it. “So stupid for my cock couldn’t even fucking answer the question right.”

But he couldn’t lie. He felt pride at rendering you so brainless.

Instead of you, now he was the one that appreciated the view in front of him. Having the student even your professor held at such a high regard bent over during class. Watching all the students that had watched you with worried eyes at having him beside you and proving them right. Because of this, he wondered how many had an inkling of what he was doing to his precious, delicate girlfriend. Screwing you like the whore he had made you to be for him. Defiling you, tainting you right in front of their unsuspecting eyes. He had you naked and on all fours right in front of the video call. Willing and begging for him to continue.

Never would they have thought such a sweet thing like you could allow yourself to be taken by a guy like him, more so in such a filthy manner. He was ruining you. Because he could, because you were his. And the innocence they see had long been tarnished into nothing. Destroying your care for the class or its knowledge because right then, all you wanted was his cock and your release.

“I’m gonna cum, daddy, I….gonna cum.” He felt your body tense, your arms stretched out to try to deal with the pleasure in your body. Small, cute moans escaping your moan. “Fuckmefuckme, fuck me harder.”

Your mouth was open and he thought of how easily he could spit into it. Seeing you take something else of his inside of you. A low groaned out curse escaped him. Your entire body moved forward with each thrust as he pounded into you mercilessly

Without doing it on purpose, your hands had landed on the sides of your computer and Michael held you down as his thrusts sped up. He was wrecking you. He heard your breath hitch before your moans turned into screams. It was a lot and he knew it. But watching you basically reach out to your class, to where tens of students were staring forward, making it seem like at you, as he rawing his little girlfriend’s pussy, his girlfriend who, in their eyes, represented nothing but purity.

Yet here you were, creaming around his cock with no care in the world about doing it in front of them. Nothing could get you off like him. Your relieved and blissed out moan was evidence of just how much being in class didn’t even enter your mind anymore. Even more so when he came right after you. After holding it in for so long, it felt so good to find your release. Filling you up as you closed your eyes to the feeling. Letting him paint your walls, tainting you inside out. Even while your classmates and professor were present, right in front of you, when it was happening.

So good. It was wrong, to let him pound into you like you were nothing but a hole while you listened to class. But you didn’t care. Didn't care how much he was destroying your innocence, knowing doing something like this would have ever crossed your mind without him in your life. And you loved him for that. You felt thrilled just as much as you felt dirty, in the best way.

Your face directly in front of the screen as if you were listening like a good student, instead of milking his cock like the cumdump you actually were. What he had reverted you to. He owned you.

When he finally let go of your body, you tried to hold yourself up as much as you could in a sitting position. It wasn’t until a few seconds later that Michael realized you were uselessly trying to listen to the very last sentences your professor said before class was over. Your notes had becomes messy until they abruptly stopped, you missed too much of class. It was for nothing. But yet, you tried to be responsible, even as your mind felt like static and as your body shook with the aftershocks of your intense orgasm.

He loved online classes.

Michael’s lips found your neck, leaving hot, open mouthed kisses from your jawline to your shoulder as he watched his ‘wholesome’ girlfriend try to pretend you cared about the class. Even after you completely disregarded it as you let him use your body, even after you spoke to your class while he drilled into you. As you sat there, his cum trickling down your thighs. Maybe getting caught wouldn’t have been such a bad thing.

#5sos #5sos smut #Michael clifford #michael clifford x reader #Michael clifford smut #bad boy michael #bad boy smut #5sos imagines #college au

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actuallyilya · 3 years

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Black-Ops Characters I believe would have cats and/or dogs. Also, these are just the Campaign characters + some Warsaw pack characters!!

Dog Only

Lazar, Lazar gives off big cuddly dude vibes™ meaning he would want a pet he could bond with better. Dogs are (usually) very playful and loving. He also CONSTANTLY attracts dogs. I also think he would adopt a Golden Retriever. Idk. Vibes™

Sims, Sims seems like the type of guy who likes being outdoors. Parks, hiking, jogging, etc. So he would 100% rather have a buddy to do those hobbies with, rather than go alone. A bit into his childhood, he had another dog he grew up with from the age of 12 and up, but once he left for school/the CIA, he felt bad, and eventually, the dog died of old age :(. But I do think that he loved that dog very much and no dog would ever come close to the memories he had with him. I think he would adopt a Border Collie.

Woods, Look this mother fucker DISPISES cats. He thinks they're gremlins and refuses to ever pet one he hasn't had a bad experience, just doesn't like them, claims that 'they're satan's little bitches'. He also would rather have a pet that you can call do cuddle, rather than hope not to get scratched. He either would have a German Shepherd or Great Dane. He wants a dog that will make him seem cool 🥶😈 but everyone knows that man is a sweetheart.

Hudson, He is most definitely a dog person, He does not care about the dogs are better than cats argument. 'It's an idiotic argument, Besides, we all know dogs are better'. His dog is a family dog, she's very friendly to anyone who comes by Woods, Mason, etc and she loves his kids. At first, Hudson hated the idea of having a dog, it would be a liability, but he was the first person who genuinely fell in love with the dog. He would have a German Shepard, who is military trained because he wants to protect his family.

Knight, Look, with the very little of the information we know about him, I GENUINELY think this man would have a dog. We know he's a little on the bad side, but still, he needs some friends. Even if the friend is a dog. He would probably adopt a Kangel Shepard. Also, he loves to play with his dog very often and is super protective of the dog.

Okay, now to the people who would have cats!

Park, Look, Park is like those people who sit in front of a window with a computer/notes in front of her while her cat calmly sits in front of her sleeping or sunbathing. Okay? I love her to pieces and I know damn well she would get along better with cats than dogs. She has actually argued with Woods about it a lot. She would also have a Chartreux

"Suck it Park! Dogs are the best pets, they won't kill ya in your sleep!"

"Woods, Cats' cleanliness makes up for more than a few scratches here and there, unlike dogs who like to sit in their own filth."

Mason enjoys silence, dogs do not give silence, they are loud and he prefers cats overall, He has had his cat for a while, a few years before David joined the military, his home felt empty, He knew he had always been rough on Mason but the cat gave them a small bonding experience, Although he loved the cat, it caused an argument between him and woods (It wasn't an end-the-friendship argument but when they're drunk they definitely argue) He would have a Birman, he also heavily enjoys cuddling with a cat.

Wraith, She strikes me as those people who genuinely love working with cats or at shelters, maybe she had a cat growing up, maybe she worked at a shelter before she went all Warsaw pact. But regardless, knowing she can't stay in one place forever, she still tries to still somewhat work at shelters, she isn't open about it because it caused an agreement between her and Knight. However, he always had a friend tag along with her while going to the shelters. She wouldn't own any pets, but her favorite breed would be Burmese cats "their fur is a black as my soul"

Stitch, This guy just loves cats, As a young kid, he didn't really have many friends, he usually kept to himself, as a result, he would wander areas a lot, during one of his walks, he found an injured cat, He nursed the cat back to health and kind-of kept this side of himself a secret as his father was very 'men do the work while women stay at home' luckily it never rubbed off on him. However, Just like Wraith, he tagged along to the shelters, he didn't wear the gas mask, but a lot of his scars showed, but he found out the cats/kittens were less scared of him if he just showed his face. Although he has an edgy feel, he loves Maine coons, they are very gentle, friendly, and very intelligent (As you can see, you can tell who is my favorite Warsaw pact operator)

Who would have BOTH cats and dogs.

Adler, look this motherfucker does not want to admit that he loves both cats or dogs. He easily gets attached to animals, cats, dogs, the whole sha-bang. So either/or, He loves dogs because he enjoys working with them, such as training, jogging, etc. (Sims stopped going running with him after Sims adopted his dog, but Adler knew he couldn't be responsible for a dog knowing he's always out on missions). But he also loves cats, he loves how majestic they are, when they purr, kneed, etc. He loves it. He occasionally invites himself to Park's house to spend time with her cat, not even with her. Park doesn't mind as she knows she now has a free cat-sitter. If Adler could, He would have a Great Dane and for a cat, he would have a Bengal Cat

Naga, Over the course of his life, Naga has worked with tons of dogs. He had always appreciated them helping him in his line of work. Whether they helped him weed out a rat amongst his men, or helped make sure no one was stealing profit, I think he heavily enjoys their company. Naga has always been a little intimidating, But with a cat by his side, even more, on his lap, on his desk, such a tiny animal had so much subtle power. If the cat had a problem with you, he had a problem with you, He even decided he enjoyed having a dog so much, he adopted a dog, luckily, after a few months of trying, they both got along and peacefully sit in his office. He would defiantly adopt a Donskoy Sphynx, and for a dog, he would adopt a Cane Corso, mostly for weather reasons.

Perseus, owns both a cat and a dog, rarely going out for rough missions, he can have two pets in his life and properly take care of them, His current dog, a Siberian Huskey (perfect for the current climate) he's had for five years, his cat, a Korat, he's had for three years. He occasionally takes them both into his office as to not have lonely days, on the days he has to either a) leave fast such as for safety, Stitch, Wraith, and Knight were made responsible as they are his trustable people.

Finally, Bell. Bell loves both of them and never really owned any animals, while working for the CIA, they had a knack for attracting animals while going for walks, they usually arrived with one or two animals, even birds! Mostly kittens and puppies, but even the impossible is possible for them. Woods and Mason found this hilarious and tried not to fall in love with the animals (even if they were there for a short amount of time) Adler or Park always had to be the one to take the animal out of their hands because he knew no work would get done and a rule had to be implemented so it wouldn't happen again (news flash, it did happen, very often)

Solovetsky Ending: let's just say Adler didn't shoot Bell, Adler would take Bell to shelters and would even go with them to save stray (injured) animals. The two actually grew very close and it sort of became a hobby. Adler got his taste of animals and Bell go to feel happy for a few hours, they both learned a lot. After one night of dinner, they found a stray kitten with no family around, they waited an hour to try and see if the mom would come back since It didn't, They took in the kitten, it was an off-day for the workers, so they nursed the kitten for like four days before having to give it up to the shelter.

Duga Ending: After Perseus took Bell in, let's just say the same thing happened, they weren't allowed to be on the field because they weren't mentally able to handle war and risk of being kidnapped so they kind of stuck around the area, although it was rare, abandoned animals did sometimes appear. The first time it happened. Bell was wearing a large coat and returned freezing with only a t-shirt on. Perseus was at the front gate, waiting for some of the operators to come back, but instead, they returned, freezing, a small fluff ball was in their hands while they were slowly developing hypothermia.

"Bell?! What the hell are you doing without a coat?!"

"I-I know, B-But I-I saved a dog."

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alinastracker · 3 years

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hi, bonnie, my beloved!!! I don’t know if you’re still taking those college prompts but if you are, it think 21 is pretty cute <3 it’s definitely got malina vibes

ASK AND U SHALL RECEIVE MY LOVE<3

prompt: I get stuck with a late class that doesn’t end until 9pm and I’m always anxious about walking across the campus to the dorms, so you offer to walk with me and one night, I find out that it’s in the exact opposite direction that you need to go in

it’s nice to have a friend

"And please everyone, actually read the assigned chapters for next week!" Professor Yerwei sighs as the class dismisses. "Miss Starkov can't continue to be the only one of you raising her hand."

Alina can't help her smug little smile as she packs up her things. At first, her classmates were quite happy to have someone else participating so they didn't have to. Their groans seem to indicate that won’t be working for them any longer. Pity.

Her smile fades, however, as she takes out her pepper spray, clutching it tight in her right hand. Slinging her backpack onto her shoulders, she files out with the rest of her classmates.

Alina loves her art history class. She's learned so much about Ravkan art throughout her years, which is fine, but this class actually focuses on the rest of the world, art from Kerch, Novyi Zem, and even Fjerda and Shu Han.

She just hates that the class is only offered at night.

It doesn't surprise her. The class itself isn't very large, mostly filled with students of mixed backgrounds like herself. But there's something cozy about the class. She feels safe there.

That is, until she steps outside and has to walk across campus to her dorm at nine in the evening. It's late September, which means the sky is nearly pitch black by the time class ends, and while the campus is fairly well lit up, there are a couple paths with burned out bulbs that need fixing, a few shadowy areas that give her cause to quicken her steps. Her roommate, Genya, has offered to make the trek just to walk with her, but she couldn't ask that of her friend. She would just have to grin and bear it.

Alina grips her pepper spray a little tighter and is about to step into the night when someone calls her name.

No, not someone. She knows the voice, even if he is new in her life. Malyen Oretsev. He sits in front of her and a little to the left, giving her the perfect angle to stare at the side of his beautiful face. Any time she's not answering questions, she's looking at Mal.

"Way to show us all up in class," he says, a teasing smile spread on his face. He moves with such ease, such surety, wearing an army style jacket that fits him in all the right places.

"Well, I can't help it you don't read the book," she teases back, momentarily forgetting her dreaded walk. She's made it three times now, but it has yet to get easier.

"Hey, who said I haven't read it? Maybe I'm just shy."

Alina laughs. "Good one, Oretsev."

He grins, and for a second, his eyes flash to where her hand rests at her side, locked around her pretty purple pepper spray. "Heading to your dorm?" When she nods, he says, "Mind if I walk with you?"

She's not sure if he's asking because he genuinely wants to walk with her or if he's just noticed how shaky she gets after class, holding her one line of defense close, but it makes her all warm inside regardless. "I'm not out of your way? I'm in Sankta Lizabeta Hall."

Mal shakes his head and drapes an arm over her like it's the most natural thing in the world, and oddly enough, it feels that way. "Not out of my way at all."

On the walk to her dorm, they talk about how refreshing it is to take a class taught by a professor from Shu Han, the plans they have for the upcoming weekend. Alina smiles the whole time, surprising herself with how at ease she feels. At some point, she stuffs her pepper spray in her coat pocket, forgetting all about it.

From that day on, Mal walks with her after class each Tuesday and Thursday night, with Alina almost always tucked under his arm. She tells herself she likes being close to him because the weather is getting colder and colder, but really, he just makes her feel safe and giddy and good.

One night in mid-October, they come out of class to a downpour. Groans pass between the two of them and the rest of their classmates as they make their way out, some of them going back inside to wait it out, others making a mad dash for their dorm or nearby car.

"Should we wait?" Alina asks.

Mal pulls out his phone and brings up a radar map. "Doesn't look like it's stopping anytime soon."

They share a look, and then, almost in unison, pull up the hoods of their coats and dash into the night, the storm swallowing the sounds of their laughter.

"My brother is always forgetting his things when he visits my room," Tamar is saying as she leads them up the stairs in Sankt Juris Hall. She has yet to meet Tamar's twin, Tolya, but from the pictures she's been shown, he appears to be a giant with absolutely gorgeous hair.

Once they're in her brother's dorm, she adds gentle to the front of giant, as they walk in on him in the middle of crocheting, a podcast playing from his phone.

"Ah, my book," he says, pausing his podcast and setting his work aside.

"Yes, yes, your book. Now stop leaving your shit in my dorm."

Alina laughs, and it brings Tolya's attention to her. "You must be Alina." He stands to his full height, and she has to look up to meet his eye. Saints, he seems tall enough to make two of her.

"That's me," she says, and lets out a soft oof when Tolya wraps his large arms around her. Admittedly, his size compared to her own makes for a pretty great hug.

"Good to meet you. Tamar says you're a very talented artist. You'll have to show me some time."

She beams and nods to his abandoned yarn. "You seem to be something of an artist yourself."

Tamar groans. "Don't encourage him. I have so many scarves from over the years. Thank the Saints he's finally moved on to making things for his roommate."

"At least my roommate appreciates my work."

As the twins bicker, Alina walks further into the room. Tolya's side is neat and orderly, bed made, a basket beside it for all his crocheting, not a piece of trash in sight. The other side of the room . . . not so much.

She's seen worse, especially when it comes to boys, but the contrast is hilarious. His roommate's bed is a mess, pillows strewn and blankets hanging off like he left in a hurry. There's a few empty wrappers and water bottles on his desk, a pile of books stacked haphazardly. Then there's the heap of clothes shoved in a corner on his bed — clean or dirty yet to be determined. Her eyes linger on the pile, and she's not sure why until her eyes zero in on the hoodie on top. A very familiar hoodie.

Alina grabs it and turns to Tolya. "Do you live with Malyen Oretsev?"

Tolya pauses mid-bickering, glancing over at her. "You know Mal?"

She nods. "We have art history together."

"Oh! You must be the little friend — his words, not mine — he walks with after class. Lina. Huh, I should have put two and two together."

Alina scoffs. "Little friend?"

Tolya shrugs, and Tamar says, "I mean, he's not wrong."

She huffs, throwing the hoodie back onto Mal's bed, but says nothing, knowing she doesn't have an argument.

Just before they leave, Alina ducks her head back in and says, "Hey, Tolya? Don't tell Mal I was here."

If he finds her request odd, he doesn't show it, already going back to his crocheting. "Sure thing, little friend."

"So then, after doing all that catchup, they practically let Jrue steal the ball, and he runs down the court and tosses it just high enough for Giannis to dunk it in. It was incredible!"

"Uh huh."

Mal sighs. "I get it, you don't care about American basketball."

"Or American football, or our football—"

"Hey!"

"Okay, I care about your games."

"Thank you," he says, looking proud. "Anyway, you're saved."

They've reached Sankta Lizabeta Hall. Alina sighs, fiddling absently with a loose thread on her gloved hand. She’s wearing only one, because at some point today she had lost her pair, so Mal had offered up one of his — a gesture her heart has still not recovered from. She looks up at the building, then back to Mal. Admittedly, even when he rambles on about sports, she's always sad when their walk to the dorms after class comes to an end. Even though it's near freezing most nights now, their walk seems to take longer and longer. If Mal has noticed her slowing her steps lately, he hasn't said anything.

"Saved indeed," she says. But there's one more thing she has to do tonight before parting ways. "Though, I was thinking. You always walk me to my dorm, but I never do the same."

"Oh," Mal says and shrugs. "It's fine. It's not much further, no sense for you to backtrack."

Oh the irony. "I know, but still." She takes his hand, somehow warm despite the frosty air around them. Her heart skips a beat as she realizes this is the first time she's held his hand. "It's really only fair."

"Alina," Mal grumbles, and she can almost see the wheels turning in his brain, trying to figure a way out of this.

"What? It's not like you live much farther."

He groans. "It's late, and cold. You should get inside."

"What's the matter, Malyen?" She's grinning now. "You think I can't survive another minute or so out here? It's not like you reside in, oh I don't know, Sankt Juris Hall or something far like that."

She sees on his face the moment it clicks. Mal curses under his breath and asks, "How did you find out?"

"Tamar took me to meet her brother, and I just so happened to notice some very familiar clothes on a very messy bed. You're not quite as tidy as your roommate, Malyen."

"If you say my full name one more time, I'm going to bury myself into the ground."

Alina laughs and it’s just a little maniacal. "So what gives, Malyen? Juris Hall is like, a minute from class." Her own was around ten, longer if the sidewalks were icy or they took their time.

Mal's eyes turn downcast, and he kicks the pole of a streetlight. "I don't know. You just looked so uncomfortable leaving class each night, holding your pepper spray like your life depended on it, and I just — I didn't want you to be alone." He shakes his head. "I'm sorry, it probably sounds weird and creepy and everything you're trying to avoid."

Her heart is thumping so loud she's afraid he might hear it. But he's still not even looking at her. "Mal," she says softly, and finally he looks up. "That's the nicest thing anyone's ever done for me."

He's unsure for a breath longer — the first time, she realizes, that she's seen him be anything but certain — before finally, he smiles. Shyly. "Really?"

She nods. "It’s ridiculously kind of you, especially since you barely knew me then. But I’m okay, really. I don’t want you to keep going so out of your way for me.”

Mal pauses, shuffling on his feet, and she can tell he’s choosing his words carefully. “And if I said I wasn’t only doing it for you?” At her frown, he adds, “If I told you these walks are the best part of my week?”

She’s momentarily speechless as her brain scrambles for something to say, so she ends up blurting out, “Football practice is the best part of your week.”

His smile is sly as he says, “Football is the second best part of my week.”

“Oh, well.” Saints, she wants to jump his bones. She’s wanted to since the first time she laid eyes on him. But she hesitates still, needing to be sure before she can let herself leap. “Certainly there’s better places and times to go for a walk.”

Mal shakes his head, and there’s amusement in his tone. “Come on, Alina, are you really going to make me spell it out for you? It’s not the walk, it’s the company.”

“The company,” she echoes in a small, but pleased, voice. Her dark eyes are sparkling with something giddy — like she’s fifteen again, tripping over a smile from her crush.

He just shrugs as if to say, take it or leave it, and she knows her answer.

Alina grins and shrugs in return. “Well, then I guess you can keep accompanying me.”

He snorts. “Oh, you guess, huh?” Mal suddenly drops dramatically to one knee, and in that moment she can see his confidence has returned, the easy way he moves, like he’s singing his favorite song and knows every word, every beat. “How generous of you, oh honorable Alina Starkov, for granting me the privilege of walking on the same pavement your very feet grace!”

Alina’s laughing, she’s been laughing for the whole speech, but now she crosses the distance between them and tugs on his arm until he stands. “You’re the worst,” she says, and before she loses her nerve, she kisses him. She can tell he’s surprised, but he recovers fast. His arms wrap around her waist, tugging her closer. One of her hands is on his red scarf — one of Tolya’s making, she knows now — while the other dares to run through his hair, a fantasy she’s had all semester. Suddenly it’s not so cold out anymore.

They pull away breathless, sharing careful, sheepish smiles of two people exploring something new; something exciting, but fragile.

“I think we’ll have to find a new excuse to hang out once class ends in a couple weeks,” Alina says, looking up at him through her lashes, cheeks flushed.

“Agreed. Maybe something involving food, or drinks.” He pauses, then very delicately brushes his thumb over her bottom lip. It’s somehow more intimate than the actual kiss. “Maybe more of this.”

She bites down on the spot his thumb had just been. “Definitely more of this.”

Mal smiles, and this time, he’s the one to initiate the kiss, the one to tangle his fingers in her hair. They kiss until they’re dizzy and frozen — on the outside, anyway. On the inside, she’s all heat. They say their typical goodnights, but this time, they part with the promise of so much more than walking on the horizon.

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annabethy · 3 years

Text

under the mistletoe, watching the fire glow day 8: merry ex-mas

Character A’s ex will be at the Christmas party A is attending. Character B poses as A’s fiancée,, percabeth

Percy’s heart just about stops the second he sees his ex at the Christmas Party.

He has just walked into the room, prepared for this to be a good night, but then all hope going flying out the window when he catches the red flash of hair that’s painfully familiar. He really shouldn’t be surprised considering all their friends were the same, but he didn’t think they’d both be invited.

It’s been a few years he supposes, but he still can’t bear to face her. It wasn’t like their relationship ended in a hostile manner or anything. She had just dumped him, and he had been heartbroken, and they haven’t spoken since.

That being said, he thinks it’s totally appropriate when he walks right back out the front door of the party and holds himself against the wall. He’s sure the people that pass by him think he’s going insane, but he can’t bring himself to really care because his ex-girlfriend is in there, and if she sees him alone, she’ll no doubt make a jab at him, and that just cannot happen.

Percy doesn’t move for what feels like eternity. He’s thinking of every possible solution, but the only one that comes to mind is flat out leaving. The only problem is that people have already seen him and greeted him, and it would make its way to her that he left, and then she’d know. Percy curses himself for getting into this situation in the first place. There’s no escape at this point, and it kills him. The only way out would be to do something stupid like fake being engaged, or—

Percy starts, standing straighter.

He could fake being engaged.

Honestly, it’s the best chance he has of not being made fun of by his ex. But Percy knows her too well despite it being years. It would bother her to no end to see him with another girl, much less engaged to another girl.

About a million things could go wrong, but he thinks it’s brilliant.

As Percy begins to through the groups for anyone that looked willing to participate in plan fake-engagement, he can’t believe that this is what his life has come to. He should be ashamed of himself.

Oh well.

People walk into the party in groups or pairs, and it makes his life much more difficult. New York in the winter is freezing, and his fingers are becoming painfully numb. He’s about to give up as his body starts involuntarily shivering, but then there’s finally a girl approaching the front door by herself, and this is his only chance.

She looks really pretty, too. She’s wearing a short black dress with a pink wool coat reaching to right below the length of the dress, and her hair falls in blonde ringlets down her back, ruffled in the wind. She would be the perfect fiancée for him.

“Uh – hi,” he says, stepping a bit into her path. It’s admittedly not the best thing to say to a stranger you’re about to propose to, but how else is he supposed to start this conversation?

“Hi,” she answers cautiously. She moves a bit to his side as though she’s about to step around him, but he moves to follow her. The glare she gives him has him jumping back in alarm. “Can you move?”

“Yeah, I will,” he says. “I just have a quick question, if that’ll alright.”

There’s a pause as she doesn’t answer. Her grey eyes trace over his, questioning, and then she says, “Do I know you?”

“No. I don’t think so.”

“Then I’d appreciate it if you could move so I could, you know, get inside.”

Maybe she isn’t the best fiancée because he can already tell that her patience is thin in the first two seconds that he’s been speaking to her. Still, he’s out of options.

“I need you to marry me.”

She blinks. “I’m sorry?”

“Just for tonight,” he promises.

“Uh, the length of the marriage is not my concern here.”

Percy glances over his shoulder, making sure no one was listening. This didn’t seem like it was going to be ending in his favor, and he did not need an audience for that.

“My ex is in there,” he pleads. “If I go in there, she’s going to have some rich boyfriend on her arms, and I’m going to look like a loser. She likes to insult me, according to my friends, and it would really make her mad if she thought we were engaged.”

She chokes. “Your solution to seeing your ex is to fake an engagement?”

“I never said I was smart.”

“That’s the worst idea I’ve ever head.”

Percy’s moves out of her way, conceding to the fact that she wasn’t going to be of any assistance. Surprisingly, she doesn’t move.

“How do you plan on making it work?” she asks, crossing her arms.

“Are you considering doing it?”

“Oh, no, but I want to see just how badly this is going to go.”

“I’ll be honest. I didn’t think that far.”

She laughs, covering her mouth. “She’s going to know.”

“Not if you help me,” he pleads. “We’d be a cute couple, too…”

She grins, sensing the silent question. “Annabeth.”

“Percy,” he returns. “This is going to come off weird, but you’re super pretty, and she would not like that.”

“She’s the jealous type, huh?” Annabeth shifts on her feet, biting her lower lip. “I do love making people jealous.”

He claps once. “Perfect!”

“And if I do help you, what do I get out of it?” She smirks. “Besides a hot fiancé.”

“I’ll take you to dinner afterwards.”

“Hm. Where?”

Percy’s wallet screams as he says, “Wherever you want.”

“Now that’s an offer I can’t refuse.” She steps towards him and slides her arm into his. Percy is completely astonished that it worked, and as they step inside, he realizes how natural this feels, which is hilarious considering this is the least natural engagement there is.

There is a wave of warmth that washes over them, and there’s Christmas music playing in the background.

“So,” she starts, locking eyes with him. “Is there a plan?”

“The plan is to not fuck this up.”

“Foolproof.”

They don’t actually end up talking to anyone for a while. It turns out there weren’t as many people there that he knew as he thought there was. His ex is still there with her friends in the corner of the room, and Percy’s sure she’s seen him by now. There are eyes burning holes into the back of his neck.

“Who are we trying to fool?”

“Behind us. The girl with red hair. Her name is Rachel.” Annabeth outright turns on the couch to glance at her, not at all subtle, and Percy nearly shrieks.

“She was looking at you,” Annabeth tells him. “And now she knows we were looking at her,” he mutters. “Thanks for that.”

“What do we do?”

Percy blanks. “I don’t know.”

“Tell me what to do! I’ve never been in a fake relationship before!”

He gawks. “You think I have!?”

“This was your idea,” she accuses, but she slides in closer to him. Her body presses up against him. He tries not to focus on the curves he feels pressing into his body. Percy’s hand automatically goes to wrap around her waist and holds her in place.

It takes a while before they actually have to speak to anyone, and when they do, it’s not at all smooth. Percy’s bright red as he introduces her as his fiancée to a group of kids from his class, and Annabeth doesn’t even hide the laugh that bubbles out of her mouth. She seems to bask in his embarrassment, and it makes Percy feel a little insulted.

(Also a little endeared, for some reason)

“That wasn’t funny,” he says, avoiding eye contact after they leave.

“That was hilarious,” she disagrees.

“Shut up.”

“I’m not saying anything.”

“You’re laughing at me.”

“How could you expect me not to.”

Percy glares at her and is about to retort something, but then someone else is standing in front of him, and when he finally tears his eyes away from Annabeth, he is surprised to see Rachel standing right before him, an unreadable expression on her face.

“Percy,” she says, though her eyes are trained to Annabeth. “It’s been a while.”

He shifts uncomfortably. He had thought he wanted to make her jealous, but he had been so deep in conversation with Annabeth that he’s lowkey disappointed to be pulled out of it. “It has been.”

“How are you?” she asks, and Percy can sense the plastic tone of her voice. He hates it, and he hates the way she’s looking at Annabeth as though she’s ever had any right to judge.

Percy’s grip tightens on Annabeth. “It’s going pretty well. The wedding is only in a few months now, so that’s been pretty busy.”

He sees the gears turn in her head. “The wedding?”

Percy mocks a frown. “My fiancée and I are getting married. Haven’t you heard?”

“Of course I have,” she says, “I just didn’t hear anything about a wedding.”

Percy quickly learns that Annabeth is absolutely horrible at masking her emotions as she presses her face into the sleeve of his shirt and snickers. The lie is so obvious considering Percy and Annabeth themselves haven’t even heard of a wedding.

“Invitations were sent out months ago,” he says innocently.

“Oh? I was invited?”

Percy pouts. “Of course not. I just figured you would have heard.” The look on Rachel’s face is priceless. Percy doesn’t think him and Annabeth are convincing in the slightest, but it is pretty fun regardless. “I don’t think you’ve met my fiancée. Rachel, this is Annabeth,” he says, motioning to the girl in his arms. “Annabeth, Rachel.”

“Nice to meet you,” Annabeth says. She doesn’t sound pleased to meet her at all. She’s nothing if not a loyal fake fiancée. “Heard so much about you.”

“All good things I hope,” Rachel says.

Annabeth gives her a sympathetic look. “I wish I could say they were all good things, but you know how it is.”

“I know how Percy is,” she counters.

Annabeth laughs, and Percy feels tiny under her scrutinizing gaze. He didn’t know someone could disarm another person with just once glance, but here he was about to marry that person. He kind of loves it. “Baby, no, you don’t.”

Rachel looks like she’s about to open her mouth to say something else, no doubt a weak jab back at Annabeth, but then Annabeth turns to look at him, a soft smile on her face. “We should probably get going, yeah? We have the meeting with the wedding planner tomorrow.”

Percy decides to play along. “I thought we had the cake tasting in the morning.”

“The meeting is for the cake tasting, silly.” And next thing he knows, she’s pressing a sweet kiss to his lips, leaving him trying his best to not make it overbearingly obvious that his brain is going haywire. “Let’s go, yeah?”

Her face is close to his, and he can feel her breath on his lips. He wants to kiss her again, so he does. For the act, of course. “Let’s go.”

They stand up together, hand in hand, and they barely even glance at Rachel as they walk past. Annabeth calls over her shoulder, “It was nice to match the name to the face,” and they leave trying to maintain what little composure they had left.

The second they make it out of the house, Annabeth breaks down laughing, and Percy follows after her.

“Oh my god,” she wheezes. “That was amazing.”

“There’s no way she believed us,” he breathes out, ducking to rest his hands on his knees. “That was the worst performance of my life, and I was in theatre in high school.”

Annabeth laughs harder, wiping at the corners of her eyes. “Did you see her face?”

“Yes. I didn’t know someone could be so mean. She looked like she was about to cry!”

Annabeth shrugs, still stifling giggles. “Who cares. She’s never going to see me again anyways.”

That does bring Percy back down. It’s been maybe two hours since they met, but he’s loved every second of it. He wants to see her again, but…

“I guess I owe you that dinner now, huh?”

She runs her fingers through her hair. “You don’t have to.”

Percy swallows, looking anywhere except her eyes. “I want to.”

“Oh.”

Percy brings his eyes back to hers now and finds her looking at him with a smirk. “You’re laughing at me again.”

“Only because we’ve been engaged and you still don’t know how to ask me out,” she assures.

Percy brings himself to her. “Annabeth. Would you like to get dinner with me?”

“Depends on where,” she says teasingly.

“Anywhere your heart desires.”

She puts her hands behind his neck and kisses him once. “I’d love to.”

Percy thinks it’s a bit insane how everything has played out. They started with an engagement, and now they’re on a date, and he’s already falling in love. It must be something of a Christmas miracle.

#percy jackson #annabeth chase #percabeth #pjo #Percy Jackson and the Olympians #my writing

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