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deandoesthingstome · 7 months

Text

Labyrinth Fantasy

Pairing: Minotaur!Sy x Reader

Summary: There's a new hotel in town. You now know it's for real and you need more.

Word Count: 5.7K

Warnings: 18+, NO MINORS, cunnilingus, p in v (standing and reverse standing cowgirl), monster fucking (right?).

Fantasy Hotel Masterlist

You'd recounted enough of the details to convince your online benefactors that the investment was worth it, but kept enough to yourself to make the experience truly special.

Like, you didn't mention the time stretch at all. Though you had been wondering why the hotel even offered longer booking sessions if the hosts could just snap a finger and keep you satisfied forever. You felt only mild guilt about keeping the image of naked human Walter to yourself. They didn't need to know how good he looked NOT as a monster. You were keeping that for you own private thoughts. But you were bemoaning your current funding situation.

sendmeanangel: ugh, I'm never getting back there!!! MNstrluvr: Listen. There's a way. sendmeanangel: how? I can't get any more shifts at the restaurant. MNstrluvr: let us open a Patreon for you sendmeanangel: I'm NOT giving a recount of this event to total strangers darkgothnightengale: you have no idea who we are sendmeanangel: you are NOT total strangers. I know your favorite coffee and what you're studying at uni and your top 10 comfort movies. I know how you got that scar on your hand. darkgothnightengale: yeah but you didn't know that until you asked. Up to then we were total strangers who loved your work. Just like everyone on Patreon will be only they'll be paying MNstrluvr: yeah and you don't have to tell it to them like you told us. Put a different spin on it. Don't make the story from the perspective of the hotel. Make it a true fairy tale. Red riding hood in the woods and shit. Make him your boyfriend, The Woodsman, who's ready to show you his secret this fine full moon evening. sendmeanangel: oh my goddddddd!!! darkgothnightengale: yeah, but put all the most important details of him in Sendmeanangel: you just want to read about his massive cock splitting you open again darkgothnightengale: i have my needs. Besides, I just mean those details you only know now because you experienced it. You have something to draw from, something to make it real for everyone MNstrluvr: seriously, meana, do it. You will make so much money. You should have been putting your other stories out there long ago but this you can post and sell cause it'll be completely your own content with no re-imagining of existing characters sendmeanangel: okay, but you gotta beta the shit out of this for me. I can't have it sounding like I'm just recounting the whole thing from last night's fuck session with my partner MNstrluvr: 😆 🤣 😂 😹 darkgothnightengale: oh my goddddddd!!!! MNstrluvr: anyway we already created an account. We'll add your email and send you the password reset so you can run it and transfer the money to your bank whenever darkgothnightengale: and as always, no pressure on timing other than knowing you need the money to get back to Walter but I can't wait to read this! sendmeanangel: what if he's not available?

As you clicked Reserve something caught in the back of your mind.

Would Walter care you weren't coming back to see him?

How could he? You spent two hours (or was it more? You could never figure out the time swap calculations) together. You weren't even sure if that was his real name. Sure, you fantasized about him when you got home. You'd been in a fog of post-orgasmic bliss when you saw him in his human form, but that didn't stop you from cataloging every inch you could. Imagining snuggling next to his enormous and furry body wasn't hard.

It was this domestic bliss scene you'd eventually settled on as the opening to your "boyfriend's werewolf confession during an evening walk in the woods" fic that you posted on Patreon. The feedback had been a dream come true.

While the income wasn't as plentiful as you'd hoped, the wages and tips from your extra shifts allowed you to book another stay the following month. Walter was indeed not available on your only open day of the week so you sought out another option and found a four hour time slot with a new-to-you creature.

The listing called him Captain of the Guard.

Something about this fantasy made you select the box at check in specifically requesting your host enter in form. You had missed this at your previous visit, and as you thought back to meeting Walter, you appreciated the gentle way he eased into the scene. But you wanted a little more…mystery? Suspense? apprehension this time. The front desk clerk told you your host's name was Sy, and sent you down to a lower level of the hotel. The only key he provided was the code you punched into the elevator number pad to allow you to press L3.

When the doors opened, you entered a small, rustic room with a hard dirt ground and cool stone walls. You only saw one other door besides the elevator you just stepped through and your mind did some mental gymnastics. Was that the exit to the maze or a bathroom? If it was the bathroom, where was the maze?

A few benches were scattered around and sitting on one was the Offering Tray you purchased, along with a note telling you to dress or undress to your level of comfort and step out into the hall through the door opposite the elevator when you were ready. Okay, door to maze then. But your nervous pee sensation was building. Where was the bathroom???

You knew the elevator was locked after you exited the car, but the note also contained the return code you were welcome to use any time, even before your reservation was over. And the note also revealed the secret to locating the washroom around the corner of one of the walls that you now noticed didn’t quite reach the next wall, causing a little optical illusion that the room was a simple square with no other space. Clever. It reminded you of a scene from a fantasy movie you’d seen when you were younger.

You peed and then undressed for a quick rinse in the surprisingly warm shower. You had imagined the temperature of the liquid streaming over the mini waterfall in this rock room would be ice cold, but it was as if the water was heated to a constant, perfect temperature from a thermal spring. The floors were warm on your bare feet too. You almost had to tear yourself away. There was a fantasy to be had.

You hung your street clothes on the garment hooks and pulled your red cape from your bag. You had researched a few different costume options and came across a clever way to fashion a toga of sorts from the material, albeit a slutty red toga with a giant slit up one thigh. You didn’t bother with underwear this time either. After one last look in the mirror to make sure your nerves weren’t showing too badly, you gathered up the offering of cured meat and stepped into the hall.

The rough hewn stone walls were at least three feet higher than the room you’d just exited. You noticed shelves jutting out occasionally at various heights and made a mental note not to run into them. Not that you planned on running. The ground was soft and sandy, rather than hard packed earth. Even in bare feet, this was going to make running hard. Again, not that you’d planned on running.

Now, which direction? Left was always your gut instinct so you followed the path in that direction, choosing a left turn anytime you came to an intersection. After dead-ending twice in about five minutes, you began to rethink your approach. While you figured it had be wise to build in some extra time to find your treasure, you didn’t want to spend four hours in a fucking maze alone.

As soon as you made the next right, the air shifted. The hairs on the back of your neck stood at attention and a ripple of goosebumps grew up on both arms. You made a few more turns before you began to hear snorts and huffs in the distance. For a moment, you froze, unsure if you wanted to move toward or away from the beast. Not because you didn’t want to meet the beast. But only because you truly couldn’t decide how. Sneak up and surprise him? Or let him chase you?

A new roar announced he was getting closer and you made a snap decision to turn away. Let him find me.

You maybe delayed the introduction by a few minutes. He was adept and clearly knew this maze inside and out while you were still trying to find your footing. You were just about to turn a corner that looked surprisingly familiar when you felt a rumble and the sand shift beneath your feet before you heard a snort and few stamps on the ground.

“Turn around.” Though a command, it came out like a question and you knew this was yet another opportunity for you to provide your consent to the game. Keep walking forward and it would all be over. As a matter of fact, you were convinced your next step forward would take you to the hall where the door to your changing room was. Your turn was deliberate. So was the flash as the cape swished around your legs and settled back into place. Give him a show, you smiled inwardly to yourself, before you wiped that grin right off the face in your mind and dropped your jaw instead.

Before you stood a monster of a man/beast, which explained the rumbling of the ground. You noticed the hooves which explained the stamping sound. As you drew your eyes up his solid and thick legs, you were a little disappointed to see he was wearing a heavy pleated leather skirt which hid any hint of what might be hanging underneath. His biceps bulged and thick veins trailed down each forearm. His chest was broad and teeming with unbridled strength, bare and full of the fur you were hoping to find.

Walter wasn’t the first hairy man you’d been with, but he definitely made you appreciate it more and this beast sported a similar amount. As your gaze met his, you took in the visage of a bull’s head, noticing the ring you expected to see in his nose was not there, but the horns near his ears were. They were massive as well and you had plans.

“Who dares enter my labyrinth?” he demanded as he sauntered ever closer to you. “What little bird has been flitting through these halls?”

You gave your name as you held out the tray in front of you, but he simply stood before you, motionless, save his eyes which roamed over every inch of you. When he returned his gaze to yours, he cocked his head to one side.

“And what am I supposed to do with this?” he roared, obviously unsatisfied with the tray of meat. Did the hotel make a mistake? “Maybe you’re playing a game with me? Is that it? Interrupt my peaceful solitude and taunt me with a delectable offering only to hide it behind a curtain of fabric and an offensive tray of inferior flesh?”

“I … I didn’t know… I didn’t think…” you stammered. Your heart was beating furiously, though he hadn’t taken another step toward you and you weren’t exactly trapped. You were more convinced than ever that if you wanted to escape, the entry room and the elevator were just around the corner. He was giving you time to acclimate to your decision to stay, making sure you weren’t having second thoughts. Though he commanded this hall in this maze, he was letting you call the next shot and you knew you were in no danger. Well, none that you didn’t want.

You set the tray on a ledge nearby, and grabbed fistfuls of your robe in both hands, lifting the material enough to give you the feeling of freedom around your lower legs. Just in case. Not that you were planning on running.

“In this labyrinth, the offerings are usually a little more respectful. Would you like to try your offering again?” Something about his words, the way he cocked his head again, the subtle pawing at the ground, as if he was about to rear up. He wanted you to.

You licked your lips, and nodded. Took one more beat. Then turned and ran. Past the door to the changing room, up the hall to the right, left down the next corridor, then right again. Left. Left. Left. Right. For a moment you imagined he wasn’t right on your tail and then you hit a dead end and he descended on you as you turned to try to escape the hall thinking you might have enough time to head in another direction. Well, around you really. His arms caged you against the wall behind you.

He was so close. His musk was intoxicating and the scent added a little more fuel to the fire already burning in your loins. You peered up into his eyes, which you now noticed weren’t jet black, but rather a deep, dark azure.

“That’s better,” he chuckled. “The offering is always sweeter after a little vigorous activity.”

“I’m so sorry,” you spoke. "I had no idea the offering I was given wouldn't be to your satisfaction. I should have anticipated better for a creature who commands such obedience and reverence as you."

“The tray isn’t the offering, little bird,” he huffed near your ear as you felt a hand drop from the wall beside you to your shoulder and then down to the pivotal point on your costume. One little tug, and, yep, there it went. The makeshift dressing had held up surprisingly well on the chase, but it was designed to come off easily and that it did. He made an approving sound, tracing a finger over one breast and down the valley between both, nearing your apex before he dragged the back of that hand up your belly and around your waist, ending with a firm grip on the meat of your hips.

“What…what is the offering?” you asked, with feigned timidity, as if you didn’t know what he meant. His arms moved to circle your waist and his hands slid to the creases beneath both now bare cheeks.

"I'll take this peach instead," he snorted with what you perceived to be a wink and a grin. He jiggled the flesh of your ass and grinned wider as he caught the moan of pleasure you tried to suppress. "You don’t need to fight it little bird. This is why you're here. To let go of inhibitions and feel free to express your feelings and desires with no judgment. If you like someone paying attention to this luscious cake, you shouldn't have to feel like you have to hide it."

The exchange felt a little out of character for the scene, but you didn’t mind. The chase was fun, but it was going to be even better finding out how this man would take care of your needs. So you let him know.

"Fuck. It feels good to have you touch it. Most men just go straight for the pussy and ignore the pleasure I get from the tease, the idea of you..." you trailed off, uncertain if you wanted to broach that subject here.

"Oh, it's just an idea, huh? Nothing you want to try? Isn't that why you're here?"

You thought about Walter and wondered if Sy was as well endowed under the fabric covering his loins. Surely the beasts at this hotel were all inordinately adept at providing pleasure; that was after all the entire theme. And maybe there were other ways to pleasure a person, and maybe this hotel had them too, but you couldn’t begin to imagine that the size of Sy’s cock wasn’t proportionate to his stature. You weren't quite ready to feel that in your ass.

"It's alright, little bird. We're here for whatever you'd like,” he answered without you even saying a word.

“Can I call you Sy?” you asked, unsure how committed to the bit he’d be.

“Of course, darlin’.” That was an odd Texas drawl that had just overridden the previous enigmatic accent you assumed was meant to convey ancient Greece. He kept the twang when he saw your surprised eyebrow quirk. “We can take this play anywhere you want to go. Though I’m going to make one choice for us.”

He bent to scoop you into his arms, cradling your legs and back as he held you against his chest. You could feel his heart pounding and wondered if he could feel yours, too. You took some slow deep breaths to try to calm yourself.

For a brief moment, you nestled your head against his neck, relishing the feel of the fur against your cheek. Then you turned your head to pay attention to where he was taking you. You figured you would need to make your way out of this maze alone after being well and thoroughly fucked and somehow you imagined you'd still have enough brain cells to remember the path he was taking.

But Sy wasn’t going backwards to any open hall. Instead he was making his way directly into what you took for a dead end. Before he crushed you against the wall, as you were sure he was about to do, Sy stepped through the wall. Sort of. Through another optical illusion that proved the dead end was actually a T intersection.

Sy took the left branch and in a few short strides, you found yourself in a room filled oddly with accouterments of pleasure. A platform bed covered in softness in the middle of the space was an inviting contrast to the sandstone walls you'd acclimated to. In a few spaces, what appeared to be fur rugs hung against the walls. Straight ahead, covered in dozens of warm glowing candles illuminating the room along with hanging oil lamp pendants, sat a wooden altar. Bowls draped with mounds of luscious looking fruit and plates of cured meats and cheeses were nestled in between the candle holders.

As you looked around, you noticed no other entrance to the room, though you kept missing the non-obvious openings, so who knew? The markings on the wall and other accompanying furnishings led you to believe you were not just in some other hall of the maze. You were now in Sy's sanctuary. You’d found, or rather Sy was going to show you, the treasure at the middle of the maze.

Sy set you on your feet and stepped back, as if judging your temperature again.

“Is this where I meet my fate, then?” you asked, with a shy smile.

“You’ll die a thousand little deaths in here,” he promised, returning to the previous accent, and you noticed now a tail swishing behind him. You hadn’t seen that before, but it seemed…excited.

“Sounds amazing.”

With that he rushed you as if you still held the red cape as a target. In what felt like one fell swoop, he bent to capture your hips and swing you forward over his shoulder as he turned and took a few steps toward a fur-lined spot along a wall and none of those movements jostled or startled you. It was as if he was picking up a piece of cloth, the ease with which he maneuvered you and held you stable so nothing hurt. Not his fingers in your hips, not your hips over his shoulder, not your back as he held you captive, pressed against the wall of the hidden sanctuary.

“Walter said you smelled delicious and tasted even better,” Sy huffed with hunger.

Did they talk amongst one another? That hardly seemed ethical. And yet, you’d gossipped and dished about this place and the man you’d met previously. Why would you assume he wouldn’t do the same?

“So that’s the first thing we’ll take care of here,” he continued as he dug his massive thigh into the moist heat between your legs and huffed breath onto your neck. His hands traced the length of your body, down both sides, over your belly, onto the sensitive skin of your inner thighs.

In a heartbeat, he had you off the ground, legs spread wide as he continued to trap you against the wall. You tried to hold onto his beefy shoulders for stability, but soon realized he wasn't done lifting you up as you lost purchase.

You were sure you'd be tumbling forward onto the sandy ground in front of you as soon as you cleared another foot of his body, but somehow you remained upright. Well, ‘somehow’ was known but you were still amazed at the raw strength and power Sy possessed to hold you aloft and continue to elevate your body.

With one final shrug, he had your naked form where he wanted it. Legs over shoulders and pussy right at his face waiting to be devoured. You'd had men, including Walter, in between your legs before. A few times when you were upright, and that always put a nice checkmark next to their names in your book. But never while hoisted six feet in the air.

The thick swath of muscle that ascended through your folds filled you with a warmth you had been craving for weeks. Sy somehow managed to manipulate the shape as well, so that he alternated between targeted tight circles with a tip and wide saliva drenched passes that were soon mingling with your own juices.

You had the distinct impression that the wall behind you was for your benefit only. A way to make you more comfortable and secure in the knowledge that he wouldn't let you fall while he was feasting at the altar of your thighs. That he had the ability to hold you upright all on his own while he ate you out.

He made you come at least three times with your back arched against the wall and crying out for relief as you pressed into his head to hold yourself steady, even while he supported you with a hand cradling your ass and another secure against your side. You had wanted to grab his horns, but something told you to stop and wait until you could ask permission. It didn’t seem polite to just grab at them without warning.

“Please, Sy. Please fuck me now,” you pleaded and he skillfully obliged, though he took his sweet time getting there.

He took a few more licks, sucking in the moisture dripping from your pussy before he began to ease your legs off his shoulders, down his body, and around his waist. He settled you there while he reached back to unhook his skirt and drop it to the ground. Then he knelt, still holding you against the wall, and shifted your legs down to rest on his thighs. This gave you an opportunity to peek down and see what he was working with, and not that you were at all surprised but it was still a bit of shock.

A strap of leather remained wrapped around his waist, traveling down both sides of his Orion's belt with the ends connected to a ring that sat stuffed behind his cock. While you contemplated just how long it would let him last, he worked an especially large condom onto his massive member, drifting a knuckle through your folds at every opportunity, given the proximity. He grunted and grinned each time you rolled your hips against his fingers, eagerly seeking more pressure, more depth, more everything.

“Patience, little bird. We’ll get there soon enough,” he warned as he finished affixing the rubber. You watched rapt as he held himself firm in one hand, tugging with the same languid pace he also used to trail his fingers from the other hand around your entrance, flicking at the hidden pearl up top and pressing his thumb deep inside you. It was killing you, but this was not one of the little deaths he had promised and you contemplated telling him so.

As if he could tell just how impatient you were becoming, he finally spread your puffy lips wide and began to nudge the tip of his cock at your soaking entrance. A gasp was all you could manage as he moved to standing at the same time, easing your legs back up around his waist again.

Sy moved into you inch by glorious inch, pausing every so often to make sure you were comfortable. It was certainly not something you were accustomed to, but the feeling was familiar and you knew now he was at least as large as Walter. This was going to be fun. When he was almost seated you asked.

“Sy?”

“Yes, little bird?”

“May I touch them? Hold … hold onto them?”

“Yes, little bird, you may.”

You used the leverage of your grip to drive your hips down the rest of the way onto his colossal cock and willed your inner walls to ease around him. A heat filled you, a desire to grind against him, but he stilled you. Made you sit with the enormity of the situation for a moment while he palmed a breast, rolled a nipple.

“Please, Sy, please. I want you to move. I want you to fuck me into this wall. Please.”

He didn’t make you beg another time. He was slamming into you and somehow rotating his hips in such a way that you felt him in every muscle and nerve in your body. It felt electric and vibrant and you wanted to explode. Sy let you. Fucked you right through it and into the midst of a second one before you could open your eyes again.

You were grinding against him, pulling your body up and pushing back down using his horns to guide you and you were coming hard around him again. His laugh was infectious and you let one out with the third little death in this position.

Suddenly, he spun you away from the wall. For a moment you thought he was heading for the bed, but he lifted you off his cock, then turned you around. He held you against his chest with one arm around your waist as his other hand guided his throbbing member into you once again.

You threw your arms behind you to grasp at his neck as if you needed to somehow participate in keeping yourself steady against him, but he could handle you all on his own. He had your legs splayed wide, an arm under each knee, and he drove up into you as if it was nothing. And while you didn’t need to, you absolutely wanted to slip your hands up a little higher, off his neck, over the back of his head and right back onto those epic horns.

You smoothed your fingers over the bone, into the curl, and held on. It could have been your imagination, but his grunts and snorts seemed to magnify as you did so. Maybe he really liked it? Before you had a chance to consider dragging your fingers along the form again, he hit you with another deep wave of pleasure that had your eyes rolling back into your head as you slumped against him.

And it was like he knew how much more you had in you, because he just kept fucking you right back into consciousness, at which point you did gather your wits and give his horns a few more sensual strokes. It was his groan that told you he was close and you were helping him along. It only took a few more thrusts before you were coming hard around his dick and it seemed like he was letting loose with a roar, too.

He eased his phallus out of your sweaty, quivering body and moved forward to deposit you on the bed, admonishing you to stay put before he disappeared behind another secret wall. You heard water rushing and the sound began to lull you into a light sleep that only the warm, wet cloth pulled you out of.

“Don’t open your eyes just yet,” he spoke, his voice a little less gruff than before.

“I was promised a thousand little deaths,” you teased, unable to move your eyelids or anything else for that matter. His laughter lifted your heart.

“Oh, you want more? Looks like you’d scatter in the wind like a dandelion if I put my cock in you one more time.”

“I wish you weren’t right,” you joined him with a light laugh of your own. “Maybe if I could get a little nap…”

“Unfortunately, time has been flyin’ while we’ve been having fun. Don’t think you’ve got enough left for that.”

You peeled your eyes open, curious about his statement. You hadn’t meant to imply he should give you more time and you were embarrassed that he might think you were being pushy, demanding. You were not prepared for the sight of the man in front of you.

Where Walter’s shift had given him just a little extra height and bulk, not that he needed it to maneuver you around the room, Sy’s return to human form was dramatic. And not that he wasn’t massive in his own right, but the size of the beast that had just fucked you senseless was even more apparent comparatively. You could see he was solid, tree trunks for thighs and branches for arms. His shoulders were wide, chest broad. All the things you’d noticed of the bull, but just scaled down. And still incredibly daunting.

“S’okay I shifted back?” he asked with concern.

“Of course, whatever you… I mean, this is all so new to me. I have no idea what’s allowed. And how much time…” Was what you were thinking about within bounds? “Has it really only been almost four hours? How much time is left? I think I assumed…”

Sy gave another chuckle as you trailed off.

“Yeah, he musta really liked you from the get go.” At your quizzical gaze, Sy continued. “We don’t all have that gift. Walt’s one of the few. And he uses it sparingly. It’s not really a sanctioned hotel offering. If everyone could and did, we’d get nothing but two-hour bookings.”

“Oh, I didn’t mean to… I mean, I hope that didn’t sound like I was demanding any special treatment or anything.”

“You honestly still don’t look like you have enough strength left to demand a deep breath,” Sy teased. “Here, lemme give you a hand. We’ll get you cleaned up for real.”

He scooped you off the bed and carried you into the bathroom, outfitted similarly to the entry room. He placed you gently under the warm, rushing waterfall before sudsing you up with a shower gel that smelled surprisingly like something you already owned. You watched as his hands slid over your body, easing the soap down your legs and guiding the water to rinse you off.

“Sy,” you began, wondering if you should even bring it up, but as he stood to grab a towel for you, the shape you thought you’d seen as he washed you was even more apparent. “Is it allowed? Do we have time … Can I…help you with this?”

You reached for him, circling a hand around his obvious erection and tugging gently. His eyes closed slowly as he dropped his head back with a deep sigh, before he wrapped his arms around you and drew you to him. He put a palm against your cheek and tilted your head to train his beautiful blue eyes on yours as he spoke.

“It’s technically not allowed.” Your heart sank at his words. “But Imma make it good for you one last time anyway.”

You let the towel drop to the floor as he lifted you to move back out to the bed. He set you down and you watched him climb onto the mattress, expecting him to grab a condom and crawl over you, or flip you over. When he settled himself between your legs, it wasn’t his cock that penetrated you. Sy put his mouth over your pussy again and the moan that escaped his throat had enough vibration you were sure you could come from that alone.

He was better. He was unbelievably better than Walter at this. It wasn’t something you were particularly proud to be thinking, but truth was where you found it and this was the truth. Sy was skilled and all the tricks he used in Minotaur form, he used here as well. You were squirming within moments, grinding up into his face and grabbing onto his freshly shaved head to help keep him where he’d do the most damage in the quickest amount of time. Not that he needed your help, because he was fucking good at this. He knew how to use his tongue and lips and, yes, teeth, gently, and yes fingers, deep and deft. And if you weren’t mistaken, he was squirming, too.

You could see his ass wiggling and humping into the bed and if you weren’t losing your own damn mind you’d have noticed his hips stuttering as he came into the mattress right around the time his fingers landed back on the spot that, in combination with the movement of his tongue, had you screaming his name.

He let you linger in bed a moment, catching your breath while he slipped on a pair of white, slouchy linen pants before he held out his hand to help you off the bed.

“Here,” he pulled the sheet around you with a soft chuckle and a grin. “This’ll be more comfortable than traipsing back to the elevator naked. I’ll show you the way.”

Sy led you back to the entry room, stopping along the way for a small detour to find your discarded cloak down the dead end hall. You swapped material with him as he deposited you outside the changing room and wished you a wonderful day.

“Come back and see us again, sometime. It was a pleasure,” he tilted his head at you as you stepped backwards into the room.

“The pleasure was all mine,” you replied.

“Don’t be too sure about that, now.”

Bonus Edit: Absolutely GORGEOUS headers made for me by my wonderful friend in fic @geralts-yenn:

Everything HC Taglist: (as always, let me know if you want on or off)

@sillyrabbit81 @mayloma @geralts-yenn @raccoon-eyed-rebel @fvckinghenrycavill @kebabgirl67 @beck07990 @itsrubberbisquit @sweetdreamsofgelato @liveoncoffeeandflowersss @alexakeyloveloki @marantha @aireraume @angelmather1 @lizzystuffsthings @enchantedbytomandhenry @omgkatinka @littlefreya @avengersfan25 @just-chirpin @thesaucynomad @valacirca @henryownsme @summersong69 @foxyjwls007 @peyton-warren

Special tag: @kittenofdoomage (cause sometimes you love my stuff and this one's another monster fucker lol!)

Tags from Werewolf!walter (if you commented):

@ellethespaceunicorn @juliaorpll78 @martha-oi @cardierreh15 @cinnamoroll-things @caramariehurst @zombicupcake3 @openup-yourmind @shellyshellshell @nickfowlerrr @greensleeves888 @misshinson @thelastsock @princessaxoo @augustsprincess @justjulie1105 @minimin1993 if you asked and aren't here, Tumblr won’t let me tag you. Sorry!

#captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson x reader #captain syverson #syverson fanfiction #syverson x reader #syverson #minotaur!syverson #minotaur!syverson x reader #spoopy season #henry cavill characters #labyrinth fantasy #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fanfiction #mine #deandoesthingstome

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vagabond-umlaut · 1 year

Text

paper planes

brother to fushiguro tsumiki. (unofficially adopted) son to gojo satoru and you. nephew to a host of sorcerer uncles and aunts. (unwilling) assistant to the white-haired idiot. and, finally, ringbearer at your and gojo's still-undetermined wedding.

one teeny-tiny boy with one too many identity is what fushiguro megumi is - until he isn't. with lots and lots of sniffles and sniggers...

▸ gojo satoru x fem! reader; established relationship; post hidden inventory arc; manga spoilers; proposals; adoptions; alternate universe happy for everyone except toji lovers (sorry ＞︿＜)

▸ two fics in a week, wow. guess this is what is called a brainrot, huh? read this post by @/mintmatcha on tumblr and started writing this lol. but the plot of this story is miles, tons, eons away from that post, i swear. also, this fic is set in the same universe as blue hawaii but you need not read that first to read this. treat this as a stand-alone if you wanna! 😊 anyways, gif, divider and characters ain't mine. please don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

"yeah, yeah, i've got it all planned."

a discreet eye roll is all megumi gives as he goes through the menu card in his hands. a little distance away, he can spy tsumiki and you seated at a table, you tying his sister's long hair into braids while the latter laughs, probably at a joke you cracked.

a tiny smile rests on the little boy's face at the sight - which vanishes when he feels a large hand tousle his hair. you had spent hours and hours righting his hair into a proper shape; why must this idiot always mess everything up?

megumi looks up to find his guardian looking down at him with a shit-eating grin; though he can clearly see the nerves it's covering.

idiot.

phone wedged in between his ear and shoulder, gojo mutters a "one sec, suguru," and crouches down to the boy's eye level. the latter gives back an unimpressed stare.

"decided what you wanna have, 'gumi? remember mom and sis there asked you to choose for them today."

megumi feels an urge to say you two aren't his real parents - but stamps it down instantly. the both of you have been as good as real parents can be to their kids - or maybe even better. the boy has read books, watched movies and listened to his classmates talk about their families; the tiny urchin-head knows.

with a huff, he points at the double chicken fillet burger box - it's tsumiki's favourite and you too don't seem to dislike it. with a nod, gojo rises and placing his orders, returns to the call, beaming expression again directed at megumi.

"yeah, yeah, don't worry, man," he speaks into the phone, then drops his volume to a mere whisper, "'my little kiddo here is a born actor. he remembers the entire plan, step by step - don't you, buddy?"

megumi gives an imperceptible nod, itching back to get back to the table. he already would have - needless to say, the little munchkin prefers your company to gojo's, way way more - but their orders have not been delivered yet and the boy promised to be-

a little tap on the shoulder draws him from his musings and he cranes his neck up to find gojo frowning. "no, megumi didn't want to discuss the plan with me before leaving. no, he doesn't like you better- hey," the man looks at him, sunglasses sliding down the bridge of his nose revealing his indignant gaze, "you wanna discuss with uncle suguru one last time?"

an indifferent shrug is all the reply he gives.

while uncle suguru isn't the best uncle he has, he isn't the worst either. the others are- oh, wait. the others include uncle kento and uncle yu. they are literal angels compared to him. so... maybe... he is the worst... never mind. it's too late to back out anyways.

grumbling, gojo hands him the phone. "hello uncle," megumi greets just like you and tsumiki have taught him to. the man behind mutters something along the lines of ''traitor" or something; the boy pays him no mind.

"hey champ," the voice floats over the line, pleasant, kind and the way people talk to babbling babies. megumi's bored face turns irritated. "let's discuss the semantics one last time before boarding your flight, okay?"

"yeah, okay," megumi says, and casting a sideways glance at his bundle-of-nerves guardian, continues, "we're going to reykjavik," he looks at gojo, silently asking if he pronounced it correctly. the man sends him a thumbs-up with an encouraging grin.

the kid continues, "the plane will land at noon day after tomorrow, which is mom's birthday. first, we will go to the hotel. then, after resting, in the evening, we will head out in a car to watch the northern lights. and then-"

"-when it's the right moment, your dad will pop the question to your mom and you'll click the camera. got it, mr. future ringbearer?" finishing the rest of the sentence for him, the man at the other end asks, sounds of pans clacking and food sizzling in the background. nana-chan and mimi-chan must have woken up.

megumi nods. "yeah, got it, mr. future best man."

a chuckle comes in response to his comment. "you're a lot like your mom, y'know?"

"yeah," he mumbles, waving back to you and tsumiki, a little smile on his otherwise-impassive-but-always-adorable face, "i know."

"good," the man says, then pauses when a loud crash booms through the air and through the phone, a set of two wailing voices following it not soon after. megumi can quite literally picture the wincing frown his uncle is wearing as he says the next words in a hurry, "okay, 'gumi. talk to you later. bye, and best of luck! satoru's counting on his little assistant."

"yeah, thanks," he responds but is too late - the call is already cut by then.

giving the phone back to gojo, who's tapping his sneakers-clad feet on the floor, he looks back ahead, wondering when the hell heck their token number will be displayed and when they will get their food.

to the kid's great relief, it doesn't take a lot of time.

before long, the four of you are seated around the table, gojo stealing a sip from your drink and you stealing fries from him, all the while tsumiki giggles loudly at your antics. megumi smiles, before he hides it behind the burger which he takes a bite from.

the four of you really look like a family, don't you?

"hey, guys, can i have your attention for a sec, please?" your sudden question startles him from his mind. the boy turns to find you with your usual grin, albeit a smidgen of anxiety can be found in the way your fingers drum on the table.

megumi shares a look with tsumiki and gojo. they look as confused as he feels. "do i have your attention, people?" you ask again, manner growing a tad solemn unlike your usual, though the affection is still evident in your tone.

gojo and tsumiki nod immediately. you turn to him, gently smiling, "can i have your attention too, 'gumi? please?"

the boy nods his head instantly. "yeah, yeah. sure," he replies, scooting his chair closer to yours. you send him a relieved smile. "good, 'cause what i'm going to say next is very important. so, listen to me carefully, 'kay?"

all three of them are eager to nod in affirmation and anticipation.

scouring through your backpack, you retrieve a couple of pretty important-looking papers, and placing them back on the table, clasp your hands atop them. the kid spots gojo shoot you a worried look to which you respond with a reassuring smile.

the man's frown fades a little.

gaze now darting from one kid to another, you begin, "you two know, right, we love you very much?"

"yeah!" tsumiki exclaims, but is quick to fall silent when megumi shoots her a glare. you proceed, lips pressing into a thin line, "but we cannot adopt you two, in spite of how much all us want it to happen. we tried to, many, many times. but those higher-ups just won't let us do that."

a second passes - one wherein his young brain registers your words - before, lower lip wobbling, the boy casts his gaze down upon his light-up sneakers.

is this where you'll say he'll be sent to those zen'ins? away from his sister? away from you and gojo? away from all his uncles, aunts, nana-chan and mimi-chan?

megumi feels a hand card through his locks gently. looking up, he finds you with a soft smile. "but the thing is 'toru and i didn't let them defeat our purpose. we thought, you two can choose to be my clan's wards. not 'toru's, because of fucking - sorry, please forget i said that word - i meant, idiotic clan politics. so, what do you think?"

megumi turns to his sister, a pensive look plastered on her face the way it is on his. gojo adds, a tender smile in place of his usual stupid grin, "no pressure, kids. the both of us won't love you two any less and will be equally fine in case you choose not to."

"you guys can take how much ever time you need to think. there's no hurry," megumi hears you say, your warm hand rubbing circles on his back, as he turns back to his half-eaten burger.

a long moment passes.

passengers enter the cafeteria, they leave the cafeteria. the four of you remain seated, quietly munching on your food.

the boy finally removes his gaze from his now-empty tray and sends an inquiring, confused, hopeful look to his sister. tsumiki smiles back with a tiny nod. the little kid feels his heart burst with joy.

"we want to," the two of them answer in unison, and within a fraction of a second, megumi finds himself swept up in a warm hug alongside his sister, by you. "thank you for giving me, for giving us a chance," he hears you mutter quietly in a tear-choked voice. the boy simply pats your back the way you do to him. he soon feels another set of arms wrap around the three of you.

megumi thinks he has never felt happier or safer than in this moment.

a while passes with the four of you in this manner, enwrapped in an embrace, before you all finally pull away from each other.

the boy returns to his seat, rubbing his eyes. a minute passes in composing all of yourselves before you state, munching on another fry, "so, step one, including tsumiki and megumi into my legal family is done and successful. thank you, my loves."

tsumiki beams back at you; megumi returns a tiny smile. you grin at them - which, the kid watches, turns slyer as you switch your focus to your boyfriend.

the little boy stares at you, then stifles a snicker - he thinks he has a pretty good idea of what's gonna happen next. his gut instincts are rarely wrong, after all.

"but, 'toru..." you drawl, grin giving way to a smirk as gojo smiles back - perplexed but loving all the same. "for the step two, making you my legal family too, guess i need to wait to say 'yes' until the northern lights viewing two days later... don't i?"

a beat passes, then another, and another.

a loud gasp sounds from tsumiki. megumi turns to his dad - who's gaping wide-eyed at his mom now, the man's face whiter than his ugly hair - and smirks. just like the imp the goggles-wearing idiot always calls him at home, despite you repeatedly telling him not to.

gojo looks back at him, shock written on, engraved into his features.

"though i didn't really help you propose, i'm still the ringbearer, right?"

▸ masterlist

#gojo x you #gojo x reader #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk drabbles #jjk fics #jjk imagines #gojo drabbles #gojo fics #gojo imagines #jjk fluff #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #kit posts 📝

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raythekiller · 10 months

Note

I really wanna see (if u wanna write it) JTK, Toby, ej, masky and hoodie platonically with a new recruit that’s a child (around Sally’s age, maybe a bit younger, like around 8-9. sad backstory, blah blah blah) but instead of being like fanon Sally (sweet, joyous, innocent) they’re literally just a little shit. Like shenanigans, swearing, pranks and being immature? (Even though they all find the kid strangely endearing and funny) so basically the kid is just a COMPLETE troublemaker, but also have a kinda sweet and soft side like most kids.

🗒 ❛ Troublemaker Child Reader ༉‧₊˚✧

Featuring: Jeff The Killer, Ticci Toby, Eyeless Jack, Masky, Hoodie

#Notes: this one was so funny to write lmaoo

pronouns used: they/them

˗ˏˋ back to navigation ´ˎ˗

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Jeff The Killer

I swear he tries to be nice at first. He'll look at them and go "Awe, hey there little g-" "You're ugly as shit." "..." Yeah, someone better get that kid away or they're getting stabbed. Legit just develops beef with the toddler so now they have kind of this rivalry going on. I'm talking full blown prank wars. Everybody is just looking at Jeff weird because you're a grown ass man? And they're a literal child? But the dispute doesn't slow down until one day the kid actually gets slightly hurt because of one of his pranks and starts crying, to which he'll genuinely feel bad and patch them up while apologizing. It's a cute bonding moment.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Ticci Toby

Thinks that the kid is funny as hell. Doesn't mind it when they sass him, he'll just laugh and pat their head, but loves it when they do it to others. Just the reaction of sheer horror on their face at this 8 year old cussing them out makes his day every single time it happens. Will absolutely help them prank others or just cause trouble in general - they're officially partners in crime now. One night, they come up to him and ask him to check for monsters under the bed, to which he just smiles and ruffles their hair, checking every corner of the room that a "monster" could be hiding in and even offers to read them a bed time story. It's super cute, he's a surprisingly good big brother figure.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Eyeless Jack

Total dad figure. Tries to "reform" the kid and teach them proper manners and to stop messing with others, which barely even works. Scolds them when they misbehave, but nothing too serious, more of a "I'm not mad, just disappointed" kind of talk. Will also apologize to the people they mess with, almost like he's the one legally responsible for the toddler (which he's not). There was one time where he caught them drawing something on the walls with crayons and was about to give them a talking to again, until he noticed it was a drawing of him. He had to stop for a second cause he genuinely didn't know if he should be mad or flattered, but ends up hugging them anyway.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Masky

Hates the little shit and asks Slenderman on a daily basis why he recruited them, to which he doesn't answer. Will just kind of drag the kid by the back of the collar whenever they're about to go cause some trouble, dragging them away. He's absolutely not happy about having to babysit, but he can't exactly go against the boss' orders. He doesn't warm up to them at all until they catch a cold someday and he's the one tasked to take care of them. Seeing them so vulnerable and weak made him genuinely feel bad, and he doesn't leave their side for a second until they're fully recovered, even sleeping by the side of their bed.

꒰⸝⸝₊⛓┊Hoodie

Another one who finds them funny as shit. Will at most tell them to be careful about not hurting themselves while pranking other people, no actual scolding ever coming from him. I already mentioned that he's good with kids, he's just got that cool uncle vibe to him. He already likes the kid, imagine the one day he walks into his room to see them wearing his clothes, trying to pick up his guitar which was about their size, all because they "Wanna be cool like uncle Brian!"? He might actually cry.

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x reader #ray.writes #ticci toby #eyeless jack #jeff the killer #masky #hoodie

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stealingpotatoes · 7 months

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Invitation to talk about Sayuri and Nymie?

:D CAN OF WORMS: OPENED!! i'll tell u abt how they got found as Jedi

ok so Sayuri is one of the students that doesn't rlly go home bc there isn't much to go back to. Basically her parents were Rebellion pilots (or one was a pilot the other a mechanic. kinda unsure) but were both killed in action against the Empire abt 3-4ABY ish. obvs the Rebellion couldn't look after a 7-8yo while fighting the Empire

so the remainder of the squad manage to get her back to her parents' home village/ where she was born. so having like Everything change all at once leaves her pretty ?? and gives her some serious trusting-her-environment issues. her coolgirl "i dont care" persona is very much a result of this bc she's worried abt getting too comfy in smthn. (which is at odds w the OTHER issue she got from this event which is "deathly afraid of flying" an issue not helped if Master "traffic laws are just guidelines" Skywalker is piloting. but she tries 2 act like shes fine)

this is gonna get kinda long so im gonna smack some unposted art here and then go into a readmore

anyway fast forwarding to when Sayuri's abt 13 (roughly 9aby) she's visiting her parent's old squadron on a New Republic bc they'd all come visit whenever she could and after the Empire's fall they did a lot more pick her up and fly her to a base to ALL see her. and they're like omg Sayuri you came at the PERFECT time bc this rlly amazing pilot war hero who's also some like. mystical whatever is here!! he's on his way to some magic place we heard. maybe u can meet him!! which sayuri meets w her usual whatever bc she's not that gassed abt war heroes.

very worth noting that the squad's probably all seen her move shit with her mind, but theyre like oh you know how it is with teenage girls. the "nobody knows what a jedi is" + "the empire existed for a decent bit of her childhood" thing has kept anyone from being like yeahh sayuri should like. talk to someone abt this.

anyway she goes along when the squad are like c'mon let's see if we can see him. ok the only way i can describe this is you know the spiderverse like... spidey-sense recognition thing? that's basically what happens LOL Luke and Sayuri both have a FORCE USER RECOGNISED?? moment and Luke then makes a beeline for her then realises oh shit tiny teenager not jedi. would you LIKE to be a jedi?? and sayuri who hates her village and is feeling the strongest emotional connection she's felt in forever w this stranger she met 2 seconds ago is like okay fuckin sure yeah. and woo jedi!!

i posted my unposted nymie art yesterday but likkeeee pretend theres some here <3

So Sayuri falls into the "one of the Jedi found them thru the force or by chance" category of students who get found. However Nymie very much falls into the second category, which is "CAN SOMEONE DEAL WITH THIS WEIRD SUPERPOWERED CHILD FOR US????"

So 2 things about Nymie: 1. like i've said before, she's from a very rich high class pantoran family. super stuck up, mostly raised by nannies & tutors, but somehow Nymie just didn't get the stuck-up genes like all her (4!!) siblings who are just obsessed w their social standing etc and is instead just :D all the time. 2. her proficiency ig is the living force esp in the 'good at connecting to animals' way (which I think means I legally need to draw her w Ezra).

so the former often led her to escaping her family's stuffy parties and galas or whatever (usually to whoever's house it is' garden or somewhere she wasnt meant to be) to find something interesting. usually a pet <3 one particular time when she was 9 she was following her Pet Sense but couldnt find anything in the house. so she kinda just reached out more and long story short thats how Nymie managed to call this hugemassive beast (i'd tell u what it was if i knew pantoran animals LOL) out of the nearby countryside to her. massively distressing for everyone, all these rich ppl were like "OH MY GOD I NEARLY DIED" (it didnt attack anyone). very funny exciting time for Nymie who was enjoying this new beastie friend til animal control showed up. saddening. everyone is confused bc HOW did that happen

a dude old (and cool) enough to have seen more than one jedi in their heyday (+ idk uni researcher knows his shit) noticed what happened w it going straight to Nymie and overheard her account and realised what happened and was like hi nymie's parents. i think u need to get into contact w the new republic bc thats a jedi right there (which they take and go oo social climbing. we have a jedi child people will think we're cooler. bc theyre assholes)

and yeah im losing steam now but luke shows up and she joins the academyyay!

#i tried to NOT go on a 2000 hour ted talk #bc im pretty sure i could give a solid 5k of meta on top of any explanations of abt... 95% of my OCs lolll #which does mean this comes off as a lil messy but hey #sayuri ireshla #nymie #oc #original characters #luke's students

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aryxchse · 17 days

Note

I just read your Percy Jackson x daughter of Persephone fic and I really would like to read one for daughter of Hekate.

I mean you still have me questioning my Cabin but for the sake of all those years that I was daughter of Hekate, I would love to read Percy Jackson x daughter of Hekate from you.

casted a spell on me / percy jackson x daughter of hecate! reader.

a / n : my wife y'all 👆🏻

warnings : cursing

- percy wanted to gift hazel a special crystal for her birthday

- but he never really understood the girl, nor the crystal things

- so which cabin everyone visits when stuff like this happens?

- the hecate cabin.

- you were the only one left in cabin when percy barged in

- while you were cleansing (?) your room

- "hello?"

- "i am so sorry- should i leave? am i intrupting something?"

- you shrugged him off with a laugh, saying that it's not important enough for him to leave

- and he happily stayed

- "you.. know hazel right?"

- "duh, she's my ride or die."

- and everything began like this

- there was 2 weeks until hazel's birthday and percy decided to use that time wisely

- and he was kinda glad that he started working early

- because, he get to spend time with you

- man he's already whipped, look at you doing magical stuff and casting a spell on the boy

- the last part was percy's own delusion but yeah, you could turn him into a pig and he would be thankful

- "you could gift her tarot cards as a bonus, she's interested in those."

- "...show me."

- this boy knows NOTHING

- and when you read his cards he was gasping like a little girl

- hes so amazed by you omg

- you could make up something for the uno cards and he would scream 'this girl fucking rocks!!'

- did i said hes whipped? do i have to??

- anyways back on hazel's birthday gift mission

- since you ran out from hazel's favorite crystals, somehow, you both got the chance to shop outside in the mortal world!!!!

- it was a perfect first date in percy's head

- he's asking you personal questions like which crystal is best for your aura or smth

- sneaky bastard

- you guys shopped together until night and lost your dessert for the week

- but who cares? it was the best date

- people saw percy leave with a different crystal each time after visiting your cabin

- you got this boy wear crystals for lucky charm

- he joked that he only needed you for luck but anyways-

- the mission was complete eventually

- but percy didn't left your side even after hazel's birthday

- you guys are ment to be together now okay?? it says that on your birth chart

- your zodiacs are matching too

- shut up you made him a manifest queen

- he lets you draw symbols on his arms for some reasons you came up with

- hes scared you're really making him obsessed with you, because of the amount of times you're in his head, is embarresing

- and he needed to make you his

- like immediatly

- or else he'll go crazy from his love

- maybe you did cast a spell-

- "i think i learned how to read your cards."

- when he said that in one of his regular visits, you couldn't help but get curious

- did he actually learned that fast?

- so you gave him your cards and picked a few, he started looking at them like he knew something

- it said that something will happen good this week

- but instead, percy said

- "you're in love with a raven haired boy aren't you?"

- you tried so hard not to laugh

- and it was true, so you let him play his game

- "oh my gods! how did you know?"

- he literally smirked

- "i'm a natural pretty."

- he started to look more, and told you to pick two more cards

- you could already see what it meant, but you were curious what he will say

- "hmm, this guy has gorgeous sea green eyes, man you have taste!"

- a snort left your lips but you quickly gathered yourself

- "can you see any initials??"

- "oh totally! the lovers card is upside down so it means p and j."

- you were turning red from holding your laugh at this point, and he started to get a feeling that you figured what he was doing

- no shit sherlock

- "how weird, doesn't that ring any bells to you too? or is it just me?"

- "maybe it's that hot dude called percy jackson?"

- "OHHHH yes!! i knew i remembered that initials from somewhere!!"

- you both burst into laughters

- "my dear student, i see you payed attention to my classes!"

- he laughed at your tease until he finally managed to answer

- "being in love with you helped."

- smooth, jackson. smooth.

#I HOPE U LIKE ITTTTT #because i somehow did?? idk #perseus jackson x you #percy x you #percy jackson #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy jackson series #pjo hoo toa #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson headcanon #pjo show

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themurderofcrowscollective · 8 months

Text

@cod-dump I bringeth you my personal batch of teen Ghost and Soap stuff cause your AU is fucking golden Valentine's Day

So the love for Soap that has been brewing in Ghost for a good while is nearly at it's fullest, and dare I say it, he's actually planning on asking him to be his valentine. One issue though, Ghost is as anxious as can be. He has spent night and day fantasizing over Soap ever since they met, trying to fight his own feelings but ultimately accepting them as they are. So one day after school, Ghost decides to talk to his dad. And I shit you not, Price wasn't prepared for this just like Ghost when he asked the question " Dad, what- I- fucking hell- Okay I have a crush on Soap and I'm sure you know this but how do I ask him to be my valentine? " Now mind you, Price always thought he would never see the day where Ghost comes to him for relationship advice so he nearly spits out his coffee when he's asked that but he composes himself and leans back in his chair. " Well... when it came to my first crush, I had asked him what kind of flower he liked and on Valentine's day, I asked him to be my valentine with his favorite flower in my hand. " Ghost giggled a bit. " Was it Nik? " He stopped giggling when Price looked at him with a 'really?' look on his face. Anyways, Ghost said thanks for the advice and decided to do just that so the next day at school, just near the lockers, Ghost mustered up the courage to talk to Soap. " Hey Soap, I got a question. " " Hi Ghost, what's up? " Ghost felt a lump in his throat as he tried speaking. " Hypothetically, uh... if someone was to be interested in you and asked you what flower you l-like, what- uh- what would you tell them? H-Hypothetically! " Ghost really tried to not act like a total dweeb about it but when Soap laughed, his heart fluttered and he could feel the blush crawl up onto his cheeks. After the laughter that sent Ghost's heart soaring, Soap finally answered. " I like orchids, Simon. " That really did it for Ghost, being called Simon made him weak in the knees and his heart melted. Before he got lost staring into Soap's pretty eyes, he snapped back to reality. " Orchids, got it. Um. S-See you then. " The whole day he couldn't focus on anything, sneaking his phone and looking up places that sell orchids in class. His usual attitude in school was mostly just him being by himself and occasionally picking on Gaz but today he had his head in the clouds. Even Gaz noticed when he approached Ghost during lunch, he was so absentminded that Gaz had to be a little shit and kept asking random questions all of which Ghost mindlessly said 'mhm' or 'yep' as he looked at Soap from across the cafeteria.

As soon as they get home, Gaz immediately yells " DAAAAAD, GHOST IS BROKEEEEN!! " which alarms Price a bit as he approaches the two. " In what way? " Gaz points at Ghost who's in a lovestruck daze. He waves his hand in front of Ghost's eyes who looks at him and giggles a bit before saying " Soap likes orchids. " " Uh oh. " " What? " Gaz tilts his head. " Ghost is in love, not a single thought is behind those eyes. " The next few days, Ghost had been doodling in his private journal and learned how to draw an orchid so once he had enough money to buy stuff, he didn't go to the store he usually went to for snacks or drinks, he made a different turn and headed to this nice flower shop he has visited before. It's his secret favorite place. After talking with the shop clerk and buying a bouquet of orchids, Ghost was really excited and his plan was set in motion. Honestly, Gaz couldn't ruin the excitement for Ghost so he just listened to Ghost's rambles of Soap and for once, didn't tease him. On Valentine's Day, the day that Ghost's been excited for, he decided to wear something decent and had kept the bouquet fresh and watered. As he entered school, looking at the decorations that's been hung up during the weekend, he felt a pat on his shoulder from Gaz which meant 'best of luck bro'. He could feel his heart pounding as he searched for Soap, finding him near the lockers yet again with a gift box in his hand. Holding the bouquet close to him and clearing his throat, Ghost went for it. " Um... Johnny? " Soap turned around quickly, he never thought how good his name sounded when Ghost said his name. " Oh hi Simon, um... happy valentine's day. " " Y-You too, uh... listen, I... got you these. " He awkwardly hands Soap the bouquet, enjoying the sight of his eyes widening and his smile getting bigger as he accepts the bouquet. Before he forgot though, Simon fidgeted with his mask as he spoke. " Johnny, would... would you like to go out with m-me? On a date? " Johnny blushed deeply as he stammered his words, " Y-Yeah! S-Sure, uh... I thought you'd n-never ask. " Your honor, these boys are too cute for their own good. Before class started though, Johnny handed Simon the gift box which had a charm of a ghost attached to a chain and also; a small kiss on the cheek. Simon blue-screened after that, blushing even more redder than a tomato. (more to be added, damn you word limit)

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sweetandgentlecreature · 8 months

Note

Can I request a jealous or possessive Sy, thanks!

Hey girl!! Of course! Why not a little bit of both, while we’re at it? I have a lot of thoughts about Sy being the jealous type, and his possessiveness goes hand in hand with that. Thanks for all the sweet comments you leave me, I really do appreciate them all! ❤️❤️

It’s the Little Things: Jealous!Sy Drabble

Warnings: grumpy-bear energy, navigating jealously and possessiveness in an established relationship, with a little something sweet (ha! Fic jokes) at the end

Sy is not a perfect man. He's been through all of the training, all of the boot camps and exercises, two tours and everything in between. None of it could have prepared him for life outside of the job. You've never asked him for perfection, and why would you? After all the shit he's done, everything he's seen, you were glad to have him this way. Flaws and all. It sure beats the alternative. He could've come back an emotionless robot-type, or worse. Not at all.

Nights like tonight make you thankful to have him back. The bar is crowded, almost shoulder-to-shoulder, but that's pretty normal for small town nightlife. When the beer's this cheap, you get used to it.

He watches you from his seat in the corner booth, basking in the glow of the neon lights and twirling a bottle cap between his fingers. His buddies are piss-drunk, talking over the noise of the crowd."Man, did you see that blonde with the tits? Could that skirt get any shorter?" "How could I miss her? One stiff breeze and that'd be all she wrote."

Sy never understood it. Why get married to someone if all you want is what you can't have? Their poor wives deserved better. He'd scoff and just shake his head, then flick the bottle cap their way to shut them up.

About that time, you'd make your way through the crowd to take a break from the dance floor. Relieved to have your presence as distraction from the current conversation, he welcomes you with open arms and sits you on his knee.

"Havin' fun?"

You smile and nod eagerly. "Yeah. The girls went to the restroom, so I'm taking a break." When you notice that the bucket of beer is empty, you stand again. He tries to protest, to pull you back down onto his lap, but you brush him away. "No, babe, you stay. I'll go grab us another bucket and I'll be right back."

Sy digs his wallet out of his back pocket and hands it off without protest. Drinks are always on him. He hates to see you go, but good lord, does he love to watch you leave. Things are good...until they aren't.

All it takes is for one drunk bastard to spoil the mood. You're standing at the bar, waiting on your drinks, when a harsh smack on your ass gets your attention. It takes you by surprise and you whip your head around, ready to scold your bear of a man for being so crass. A stranger meets your gaze and grins down at you maliciously, drawing you in against his chest. His grip is iron-tight, but before you can speak, he's gone.

Bottles crash to the floor. The crowd circles the commotion and you fight your way though to get to the source. Sy's got him pinned against the bar as he wails on him, each bunch landing with a sickly crunch on the drunk guy's face. You try to scream over the crowd to get his attention, but it takes Sy's friends and the bouncer to pull him away. It's safe to say that you're no longer welcome in that bar, but good riddance. You wouldn't want to go back anyway.

Sy trembles with rage. His eyes are dark, his knuckles are split and bleeding, but he's otherwise alright. He'd seen it all from across the bar. That poor bastard didn't stand a chance. When he sees you now, he grabs you up in both hands and holds you out to look you over for injuries. He didn't mean to start a riot, but when it comes to his woman, Clayton Syverson doesn't mess around.

"Fuck, baby, are you alright? C'mere, let me look 'atcha," he scrambles over himself, searching you for signs of distress. When he meets your eyes again, he relaxes a bit. You're not hurt, but you sure are pissed.

"What where you thinking?! He could've hurt you! What if he had a knife, or a gun?! You're not bulletproof, you know!" Taking his fist in your hands, you hold it gently and brush your thumb over his knuckles. Nothing's broken, but it'll be sore for a while. Sighing, you shake your head at him. "Come on. Let's go home."

The next morning, he's up making breakfast. His hand is wrapped, thanks to your doing, and he pops a chocolate chip into his mouth as he flips another pancake on the skillet. You slip in behind him and wrap your arms around his waist. You kiss him on the shoulder, running your hands along his chest as you hold him close. It's quite the juxtaposition to the events of last night, but you don't mind. It'll be one hell of a story to tell the grandkids someday. "How's the hand?"

Sy holds it out and flexes his fingers, wincing a bit at the twinge of pain. Sure, maybe he's not bulletproof, but he'd do it all over again to protect his girl. That, and the sex afterwards was pretty damn great.

#request #henry cavill #captain syverson fluff #captain syverson fanfiction #captain syverson smut #captain syverson fic #captain syverson #syverson fanfiction #syverson x reader #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fic #henry cavill smut

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wxnheart · 1 year

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Hello! Can I request something from 141 and los vaqueros about a female reader who draws a lot? Also how they would react if they find her sketchbook and discover that she Draw them

𝐃𝐫𝐚𝐰 𝐦𝐞 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫, 𝐞𝐫… s𝐨𝐥𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐫𝐬?

note: this got a little crackish, so enjoy. lmao. though it's f!reader, I purposely made it gender-neutral for immersion.

Oh shit, they found out. Um... teehee?

You drew so much that it was second nature to you. You cultivated this talent of yours ever since you were young and it's helped you in more ways than one.

So when you developed an interest in drawing the members of 141 and Los Vaqueros, you immediately jumped on it and made the most of your subjects in amusing ways, and what did you do? Well, you got creative with your subjects.

And by creative, you initially started drawing everyone wearing Price's signature fisher's hat. Yes, even Ghost. You realized that it really balanced out the captain's bushy beard and Simon looked absolutely ridiculous in it. Rudy, uh... Rudy looked nice.

And then it turned into cat ears and a tail. Pawforce 141. (Don't ask)

And then you did a palette swap and oh, wow, they actually look pretty neat in some of the colors you picked out.

And then came... the maid outfits. That you, uh, drew while you were probably but most likely (read: absolutely) watching Titanic. Or was it watching you? Anyway, you may or may not have... emphasized their glorious physiques. Ahem.

And then you added Price's hat to the maid drawings.

Of course, whenever you think back to your drawings you had a tendency to smile or laugh to yourself knowingly. And whether you realized it or not, it piqued the interest of the guys.

This brings us to your current predicament. You know, the moment when you walked in the room and everyone turned to look at you. You were a little taken back until you looked at the table and oh shit—

shitshitshitshitshitHOWDIDTHEYFINDOUT?!?!?!?!

Some of them looked... less than amused ("Oh hey, Alejandro!"); the others didn't know what to do with what they found (Gaz looks... unlike Gaz) but one thing's for sure was that you could always count on Soap making you laugh; that's why you avoided looking at him. You just knew if you looked at the bastard both of you would die of laughter. Price was... really interested in your sketches.

And, oh, Ghost... Poor bastard.

The silence was deafening. The tension was palpable. The stares had become too much to bear—

"...You forgot the cigar. It sets the look off." Huh? Price sounded... amused. And the floodgates opened. Well, Soap's chuckle opened them up. That and the glare Ghost shot him. Alejandro cleared his throat. Rudy looked a little pensive and Gaz continued to look... unlike Gaz. And Price continued to be really interested. Was it the way you drew the hat?

You let out a breath you didn't know you were holding and laughed nervously. "I, uh... I hope you like them?" Smooth. Real smooth. Alejandro cleared his throat again—

"—We really look like this?" Oh, Rudy. Alejandro turned and shot him a glare. Rudy stared back, slightly nonplussed. "...What?"

Enter Soap and Ghost. "Well, I thought you looked nice, Lt.—" "Shut up, Johnny—" You should start wearing that often—" "THAT'LL DO." You tried your damndest not to guffaw but you did shoot a grin Soap's way. He shrugged. "Meant the hat, Lt." Ghost rolled his eyes in response.

In conclusion, they found out, shit's awkward, and Ghost looks good in Price's hat and a maid outfit. Teehee.

#simon ghost riley #john soap mactavish #captain john price #alejandro vargas #rodolfo parra #kyle gaz garrick #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #call of duty x reader #task force 141 #los vaqueros #just 141 things.

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datura-tea · 3 months

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holy shit this year marks 10 years of this blog and moz!! i can't remember the exact date i started posting here - my archive says i have one post from november 2013 but let's disregard that - but i do remember it was around late 2014/early 2015 :)

^ one of the very first moz art pieces i ever drew, for fallout week 2015!!

memories and art through the years under a read more bc it got long

2014 → baby's first rpg!! i started playing fnv on my cousin's jailbroken xbox late 2013 and finished mid 2014 and i loved every minute of it. i remember waking up at 8am and playing almost nonstop until 2am the next day haha!

i didn't play moz on my first playthrough - but i did start creating a character that would eventually become her: a shorthaired ex-boxer who punched her way through obstacles when diplomacy failed. i remember she spent a lot of time with boone. i liked him then, because he saved my ass more times than i can count. but i digress. this is draft 1 moz essentially

2015 → this is the year that i was doing my thesis so i could graduate but i was so depressed and stressed about it that i distracted myself by replaying fnv on pc, where i played through the dlcs for the first time. i fell in love with the dlcs' oversarching story; particularly ulysses, who i became obssessed with, especially since i couldn't find any content of him at the time. in the game, i played as moz; i had most of her personality and choices down, but her backstory was still up in the air.

fun fact: this was an existing sideblog that i remade to be a fallout blog so i could look for ulysses content, and when i couldn't find any, i made some myself, featuring moz as my main courier six. originally, i didn't ship them, but eventually i ended the year as a courier/ulysses otp shipper.

this was the year i started drawing digitally - my uncle let me borrow a drawing tablet and i used an old copy of photoshop i pirated hehe

2016 → i graduated this year!! and promptly fell deeper into my depression. this was the year that it got so bad that i had to be medicated. through it all, this blog and moz and ulysses and my fandom friends were with me. and for that i am truly grateful :) this was the year i figured out how to lock transparent pixels so that i could color my lineart lol

2017 → i started hammering out moz's backstory this year i think. there's a lot of sketches of her and her family in my files. i experimented with shading and backgrounds here but that experimentation was pretty short-lived

2018 → i started using references seriously!!!! i did a lot of oc on oc kissing this year, featuring mostly moz and many friend ocs haha

2019 → didn't draw much this year. actually this year was a blur and i can't remember much from it except from it being the year of my terrible no good bad copywriting jobs... anyway i did manage to continue my courier/ulysses brainrot and make this piece, which i'm still proud of

2020 → pandemic time. i spent a lot of time asleep at home and i think this was also the year i started doing commissions?? shoutout to anyone who has ever commissioned me - thank you so much, i truly appreciate it!!

2021 → i switched from my old-ass pirated photoshop to clip studio paint and never looked back. also i did a bunch of commissions for my grandmother's surgery, which failed, and i distracted myself from the sadness by drawing my ocs over and over and playing disco elysium

2022 → by this year, i've got moz down pat and have started vaguely developing other ocs instead. but she's still always at the back of my mind

2023 → i bought new brushes from true grit texture supply and immediately found new favorites that i started using for everything. i tentatively started incorporating background elements in some pieces!

2024 → while it's still too early to say where this year will lead me art-wise, i will say that i started experimenting in realistic paint studio (which i bought in 2021, the same time as clip studio paint) a few days ago and i'm liking the results so far. we'll see!

all in all, these last 10 years have been quite a ride, but i'm glad i stuck around and i'm glad you guys stuck around too!! much much love 💖💖💖

#shh peri shhh #god. look at that old art... i took the ones that i still kinda liked but the rest...#well i don't hate them. but they're old and of their time and i wish i could redo them lmao #my art #moz

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floralembarrassment · 1 year

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What did you Expect? (1/1) (jegulus | wolfstar)

"You know your cousin's kid is a little brat," Regulus chided, waggling a finger at Sirius.

"Oh so now she's my cousin?" Sirius retorted, drawing out the 'my' and feigning a pearl clutch.

"Well technically she's always been your cousin," Regulus volleyed back matter-of-factly.

"She's your cousin too Reg, and in fact we only talk to her because of you," Sirius huffed.

"All I'm saying is he is a little shit." Regulus folded his arms as he spoke with a tone of finality.

"Darling, I don't know how to tell you this but umm what did you expect? First of all he's a Malfoy... second of all you know who his parents are, and honestly a kid named Draco has to be a bully otherwise he would get bullied." James placed a gentle hand on Regulus' shoulder as came to stand behind him.

Regulus fell into James' chest, and leaning his head back on James' shoulder he sighed: "well maybe he needs to be bullied," and a small glint appeared in his eyes.

"Reg, no. Come on Harry would be so upset."

Regulus quickly spun around to look at James. He pointed a finger at him, "oh fine but if it wasn't for him I would be bullying that twerp."

"Agreed" Sirius and James said in unison.

"What did he do?" Remus asked.

Sirius' mouth fell open in brief betrayal. "Moony come on. You can't seriously be trying to play devil's advocate. It's Lucius Malloy's boy! He's bound to be a dick," Sirius waved his arms dramatically as he spoke, but no one missed the upturn of his lips as he purposefully messed up the last name.

"I just want to know the story," Remus said waving Sirius off, who only rolled his eyes in response.

"You just want the gossip," Regulus corrected.

"Sue me," Remus said shrugging his shoulders.

"He bought his way onto the quidditch team and then called his daddy when Harry beat him anyway before breaking his arm..." James explained.

"HE BROKE HIS ARM?" Remus jumped up from his seat. He looked between the three others incredulously.

"Technically his house elf set a bludger after him," Regulus corrected.

"Here we go again, you and the elves..." Sirius threw his arms in the air and dropped them quickly by his side.

Regulus continued as if Sirius didn't exist: "If I thought he was smart enough to charm it himself, I would be pushing it harder, but that kid is as dumb as his hair is blonde. Harry is fine though, Madame Pomfrey is excellent as always." Regulus glossed over the insult and quickly a warm feeling fell over the group at the reminder of Madame Pomfrey's caring abilities.

After a moment Remus spoke. Breaking the silence: "It's a good thing he's got a crush on the Weasley girl,"

The others looked at him a bit quizzically.

"What? If he's anything like his fathers, we'll all be lucky if doesn't end up in love with the boy," And Remus burst into laughter. While Sirius' barks soon followed, James and Regulus shared worried looks.

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delopsia · 2 years

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Just And Just As | Nick Furcillo X Reader

Word Count: 10,000 t.t Cross Posted Here on AO3 Warnings & Notes: Implied NSFW, brief mentions of food. Really just a lot of fluff and borderline smut. Idk man, I blacked out when I wrote this. Gender-neutral reader and mentions of a height difference because I couldn't resist.

No, no no no, this is not how your plan ends.

The voices behind you are growing louder. Closer. They'll be here any moment. Trembling hands turn the doorknob once more. It turns. Pull again. Nothing. The damned thing is jammed and won't budge.

"Y/N!"

Shit.

They're almost here. They know this is where you've gone. Any moment now and they'll be rounding that bend into camp. One more time. One more time.

Again, you turn the knob and pull.

No dice. You're accepting defeat - the ziplines would have been a better place to run. Fuck, why did you choose the fucking pool of all places?

The doorknob tears out of your hands as it flies open. Familiar hands grasp your wrists and tug you inside. There's no time to grasp what just happened, no time to avoid stumbling face-first into a broad chest.

"Whoa!" The door audibly slams shut behind you. "What's got you in such a rush, sweetheart?"

Temptation to step back is ebbed away by the arms that circle around you, gently securing you against his chest, fingertips tracing circles into your spine.

"The campers were getting close," you grumble, peering up to meet his eye, "and I couldn't get the damn door to open."

He's silent — just for a moment, brown eyes flickering to the door, then back down to you. "You do remember..." he pauses to fight the big, goofy grin that's sprawling across his face — his efforts are futile, "that the door is a push to open, right?"

Your cheeks burn.

"Oh my god," you bury your face back into his chest, concealing your shame, "what am I supposed to even say after you've just stood here and witnessed me act a fool for a full two minutes?"

"You could say, 'Nick, you're such a good boyfriend, thank you so much for saving me from those rabid counselors and their equally vicious kids'," you're vaguely aware of a nose bumping against the side of your head. It's the best he can do to bend down and rest his head next to yours without outright bending down.

Nick's fingertips ghost up your naked spine, featherlight, settling at the base of your neck. They're firmer, a singular finger tapping the skin there until you draw your face from his chest to meet his gaze. "You look beautiful in this swimsuit," it's barely a whisper, so quiet that you briefly consider whether or not you'd actually heard it. The flame in Nick's cheeks state otherwise, visible even in the darkness of the pool room.

"I wish you could have come to the island with us," your hand wanders up to brush the hair from his eyes, he leans into it, "you would have loved the view from the treehouse."

"Unfortunately, someone around here has to keep all the campers fed," Nick tilts his head to press a kiss into your palm. He misses by a bit, getting the side of it more than anything, but still, it lands. "I've got a lot better of a view right here, anyway."

Both of your cheeks go up in flames, and you have to look away for a moment to regain your composure. You're not quite sure who the comment affected more, you or him. Words are hard to come by, your fingertips idly fidgeting with a lock of his hair. All this effort and planning for some alone time together, and now you can't even find the words to respond to a witty compliment. Nick takes hold of your hand, guiding it further up until you've fully tangled your digits in his long hair. It drives you impossibly closer to him, noses bumping together in your efforts to compensate for your height difference without standing on your tiptoes.

"I hope Jacob didn't trouble you too much while you were out," he says, with a dimpled frown. Jacob's constant pestering has only ramped up now that he became witness to a poorly timed peck on the lips — so much for keeping your relationship a secret, for your sanity's sake.

You shake your head, nose rubbing against his in an unintentional nose kiss, "he's calmed down since your stint in the woods last week." The image of Nick losing his temper and slamming Jacob up against an oak tree is one that will forever be burned into your memory.

Nick's stepping away, and for a fleeting moment, you're afraid that he's suddenly decided that you're far too awkward for his tastes. There's the slightest of tugs upon your wrist and it hits you that he's just leading you behind the lockers. As soon as you've rounded the corner, Nick's crowding your space, backing you into the corner until you have no space left to give him.

His lips bump against yours, touching but not quite there, "you seem to enjoy bringing that up," he observes, and before you can defend yourself, he cuts you off, "you couldn't possibly have a thing for me being mad, hm?"

Again, words fail to find you. You're saved by the familiar pressure of lips against your own, just a peck, one, two, three, four times. He goes in for a fifth, and this time you're standing on your tiptoes and catching him off guard, kissing him properly. Nick whines oh so softly, big, clumsy hands finding their way to your waist as he leans into it. The sound travels its way straight to your core, lighting a fire that burns impossibly brighter as a palm travels down your hip, fingers seizing a plush thigh. He does this every time, yet you still squeak against his lips as your leg is guided up to his hip.

You have to break it, lungs burning as you take a deep breath in, and with Nick's shoulders as leverage, hoist yourself up. It's a far cry from your first attempt, where you had jumped too low and Nick reacted too slowly, finding yourselves in a red-cheeked heap on the kitchen floor and fumbling for an excuse when Mr. H rushed in, fearing the worst.

Nick's giggle shatters the memory, and only now do you become aware of the thin trail of saliva connecting your lips. He makes no effort to break it, squeezing your thighs as he meets your lips once more. Here, with Nick comfortably settled between your legs, it's so much easier to kiss him, no ache from craning your neck up and standing on your tiptoes, just the comfortable flutter in your chest as your lips melt against his.

Cheeky, you nip at his plush bottom lip, tugging it in the slightest of nips. He gasps, lips parting oh so beautifully. He knows your tricks, meets your tongue halfway, chuckling at your surprised retreat. He chases you, hot tongue delving into your mouth, tangling with your own in the softest of touches. He tastes like peanut butter. Your lungs burn as you chase him back, spit-slicked lips sliding against his in the messiest of kisses.

You don't have much time, you both are aware of that, and you take the chance to break away from him in exchange for further ventures, catching your breath in between pecks and licks down his neck.

"Baby," he warns, and you're becoming increasingly aware of a blooming pressure between your legs.

The warning is futile, though, because your lips land on a sensitive spot just below his jaw, sucking at it gently. Nick twitches under your touch, pressing you further into the lockers with his hips, a newly freed palm gripping the back of your head as your tongue salves across the spot. The pressure of Nick between your legs is a new one, you can't quite recall a moment where he was ever this close.

"Baby wait, oh," he's powerless at the way that you nip at his skin, it's one of your favorite things to exploit.

Light explodes above you, white LEDs burning into your poor retinas.

Nick's letting you down almost immediately, backing away as if burned. The room feels impossibly cold without him crowding your senses, drowning you in all he has to offer.

"I knew I'd find you two stooges in here somewhere," Mr. H's voice is jarring, compared to how softly you and Nick had been speaking. It's only now that you realize that you've shut your eyes. "The hell are you two doing in here?"

"Intense game of rock paper scissors," Nick supplies, "we're going to Nationals, haven't you heard?"

When Mr. H doesn't immediately buy it, you fill in with your preplanned lie. "I got a migraine from the sun and this was the only quiet, dark place we could find," you've told this lie so many times that everyone is beginning to think it's true.

"Where are the sunglasses I bought you?" Mr. H makes a motion for you and Nick to head towards the door. You follow without question.

"Emma borrowed them for a theater class and never gave them back," at least you're honest, this time, "it's all an exploit to keep me from telling you how she's sneaking out at night."

"Are you sure you don't want us to tell you how they're doing it?" Nick chuckles, bumping his shoulder against yours with a not-so-discreet wink.

Mr. H shakes his head, fumbling with his keys. Hell, he's locking the door this time. "I want to catch them organically, in the act," he says, rather jovial for a man who just walked in on two of his counselors making out in the locker room, "what use am I if I can't even catch two horny twenty-year-olds sneaking out?"

His loss, you suppose. Ever since Emma figured out that Mr. H religiously goes to bed at 10:45 PM sharp, gets up once to pee at 2 AM, and then sleeps until 6:30, they haven't been caught once.

Nick bumps you again, harder this time, forcing you to glare up at him and acknowledge his presence. There's a red spot under his jaw and a funny little glint in his eye — like he's gotten away with murder.

"Back to why I'm looking for you, Y/N, you have a patient, and Nick, you have mouths to feed." Just like that, your excitement has exited from your body and flown off to the high heavens.

Back to work.

Blaire Whitson is one of those children that is almost always in your office, nursing a new injury. Yesterday she fell off the swing and cut her hand wide open, the day before that, she burned her tongue on a freshly roasted marshmallow.

"Why did Lucas push you off the canoe?" Talking is hard when you're focusing on this stubborn splinter, but it's all you can do to keep the poor girl from crying.

She huffs, loud and dramatic, "same reason he pushed me out of the tree last week. He doesn't like that I have a crush on Antonio."

You've almost got this splinter, but she keeps moving and you keep losing the damn thing, no matter how hard you try to keep her knee still.

"I still think he's just jealous," there's only one person at this camp who bares that accent.

"Hi, Counselor Nick," Blaire giggles. In her moment of distraction, her knee finally holds still long enough for you to get that damned splinter. She doesn't even notice it.

"What are you doing all the way up here?" You sneak a glance up to Nick whilst you reach for the Neosporin.

He's settled himself in the doorway frame, idly massaging his wrist as he watches you do your thing. "Burned myself in the kitchen," he lifts his hand, showing off the angry red burn along the side of his right palm, "my hired help turned on the wrong burner."

You don't need to ask who his hired help is. It is common knowledge that Dylan is a menace in the cafeteria and should not be allowed within fifty feet of a microwave, regardless of whether he's being chaperoned or not. You suppose that's why you've been smelling something burning for the past half hour.

"Why would Lucas be jealous?" You haven't quite figured that one out, just seems like childish bullying, but you're not usually spending time with the kids.

Nick settles in an open chair next to you, still has a faint red mark along his neck. You practically have to drag your eyes away from it, and only because Nick is leaning over to whisper in your ear. "Ryan confiscated a love letter from him this morning."

Ah.

It takes less than a minute for you to finish cleaning up Blaire's injuries, and then she's rushing off to get dinner before it's too late. She's eaten late meals in your office far too many times for it to be a fun experience for her anymore, and you're thankful that she doesn't linger like a lot of kids do.

"Sit." You point a finger at the newly empty bed, getting up to fetch a cold compress and anything else you suspect you may need to treat his burn. You assume it can't be too bad — Nick has never been great at hiding his pain, and he doesn't seem all that bothered right now.

The burn isn't too bad, much to your relief. Nick whines every time you touch it, but that's the most you gather out of him.

"Love note, huh?"

"Said something about being upset that every girl likes his brother and not him," Nick grumbles as you massage aloe into the angry flesh of his hand, "couldn't imagine why the ladies aren't all over him."

"It's almost as if people avoid bullies, out of fear of being bullied themselves," you're struggling to focus on the task at hand. Nick's uninjured hand working its way up your shoulder is proving to be quite distracting.

"What? You don't consider being shoved out of a canoe a quality trait in a man?" He teases, giggling at his own dumb comment.

"Not exactly, no," you raise your head at the same time he does, brushing your noses together.

You can't quite bring yourself to pull away. You really should, considering the door is wide open, but you can't resist just one kiss. It seems Nick had the same idea, because he meets you halfway, chases you down for another as soon as the first one ends.

"I wish we got to have more alone time," he pouts, the moment your lips have left his. "There's literally nowhere to escape, and our wonderful coworkers take over the boathouse every damn night."

An idea strikes you as you reach for the gauze. "Why don't we sneak down to the ziplines? There's a dock down there, too."

"Oh thank the Lord, are you two finally gonna fuck?"

You're not sure when Dylan arrived, but there he is, smug as ever in the doorway. Before you can ask what he's doing here, he points to your medicine cabinet. "I need hard drugs and a nap."

Ah, right.

Dylan has a habit of getting migraines while in the cafeteria. Something about the various noises and smells just sets him off. He's brought his honorary bottle of water, saving you the trouble of fetching one yourself.

"Cabinets unlocked," you supply, beginning to wrap Nick's hand, "don't overdose."

You know the drill by now. Feed Dylan some painkillers and allow him a 30-minute nap on one of the beds, and he's good as new. You're thankful that he doesn't follow up on his first statement. If there's anyone at this camp who knows how to tease without being a genuine pest, it's Dylan.

Jacob should start taking lessons.

"Is this where you go every night after dinner?" Nick is so wrapped up in his new revelation that he doesn't notice when you finish wrapping his injury, leaving his hand stuck out even as you step away to put your things back.

"Congrats, you've found me out," Dylan says around two ibuprofen, "took you long enough."

You don't have to ask about what's coming next, ushering Nick out of the room to avoid any more fussy remarks from your most frequent patient. You just so happened to have picked the one room with a decent mattress, and Dylan religiously picks that room to sleep in.

"What's going on?" Nick wonders aloud, once the door has fallen shut behind the both of you.

"That room has the only decent mattress," you elaborate, yawning, "Dylan refuses to sleep anywhere else."

With Dylan curled up in your office, Nick walks you down to the cafeteria under the promise of reheating a meal for you. Dinner is already over, much to your dismay, but there seem to be some perks to dating the lead chef. The kitchen is a damn mess, but it's one that Nick seems to know like the back of his hand. He breezes through it, alternating between a variety of pots and pans seamlessly. There's only one empty space, in the corner next to the fridge. You swear Nick keeps it cleared just because you always sit there. You're just beginning to sit down on the wooden stool when he comes bounding over like a puppy.

"Chili mac 'n cheese," he announces in his best southern accent, placing a bowl in front of you, "and cornbread." The cornbread is on a napkin, he's been improvising ever since Dylan knocked over a whole rack of plates last week.

"Is this how you got rid of all those different noodles?" There are at least five different noodles in this, even alphabet pasta, strangely enough. Nick nods, long hair bouncing with the motion. He's always like this, eagerly awaiting your reaction to his cooking.

Nick can be quite the chef when he wants to be, and that proves to ring true even with this unusual-looking chili. He starts grinning when you go in for a second bite and cheers when you give him a thumbs up.

"Do you have tomorrow figured out or is that still a work in progress?" You ask, reaching up to push his hair from his eyes.

"Chili spaghetti," he chirps, around a mouth of cornbread. He's been obsessed with it ever since Mr. H lent him the Hackett family recipe, makes it two or three times a week anymore.

You're not sure if you heard him right. "Chili what now?"

"Chili spaghetti," he says, slower this time, "my dad and I tried it after we went camping midwest last year. I've been thinking about it ever since." His stomach growls as he speaks, as if to put emphasis on his statement.

If you had your phone, you would look this up, because you have no idea what the hell this entails. Alas, Mr. H is hellbent on keeping the camp as "original as possible", whatever that means. It makes sense for the counselors, but you'd really appreciate it if he would lighten up on the rules. Especially considering how often you overhear him playing Candy Crush.

Boomers.

You finish your food quickly — Nick's waiting on you before he starts cleaning, and you'd like to lend him a hand so that he doesn't get stuck in here until 11 PM again. It's happened before and you'd feel guilty if you let it happen again. You take off to hunt down stray utensils in the cafeteria, while Nick begins the long, strenuous process of washing every single dish by hand.

"I have eleven runaway spoons and a singular plate," you announce, upon your re-entry. Nick makes a noise, you can't tell if it's him acknowledging you or if he's just pissed off with the pot he's scrubbing. He's got a glove on his burnt hand, which only seems to be getting in the way more than anything.

With a clean towel, you dry the dishes and put them away, working as quickly as you can to catch up to Nick's queue. It's not hard — most of the dishes are the same and as such, go in the same places. Between that and the pots, you catch up to Nick rather quickly. You're leaning against the counter, waiting for the next dish when Dylan comes bounding in.

"We're back in business boys," he yawns, making a beeline for the spare sink, "Y/N I hope you can keep up."

Going into this, you weren't aware it was a challenge. Regardless, you're up for it. With two pairs of hands washing, your job gets a lot more hectic. Back and forth, you alternate between the two stations, drying the dishes as you walk them to their destinations.

"So are you two actually going down to the ziplines tonight?" Dylan asks as he hands you a particularly large knife, still dripping with water when you take it.

Nick's handing you a handful of spoons as you breeze past him. "Depends on whether we finish these dishes in time and if Mr. H catches us."

The knife block is just out of your reach, to your dismay. You have to clamber onto a stool to get to it, have to ignore the amused grins of your much taller peers. Sometimes you catch yourself wishing witchcraft was real, just so you could pay a witch to make them short for a day. Humble them a little. There's laughter outside, and you're pretty sure that's Kaitlyn who's raising her voice to garner everyone's attention.

Dylan huffs dramatically, sets down a bowl a tad too hard, "another campfire without us." It's an ongoing issue — the kitchen crew gets left behind to do all of the cleanups while the rest of the counselors go to the campfire to listen to Ryan's campfire tales. You used to go with them, but ever since you stumbled across Nick and Dylan washing dishes after midnight, you've felt too guilty to not help them out.

"We're almost done," Nick, ever the optimist.

You're working up a bit of a sweat, jumping between the two stations, drying dishes as fast as your hands will allow. Nick's moving as fast as he can. He really wants to make it to one of these fires — you can see it in his eyes. Eyebrows furrowed, tongue poked out of his mouth as he scrubs away, determined to get these dishes done.

"Is there a reason why the nurse is in the kitchen?" Mr. H's voice is so jarring that you nearly drop the plates you're cradling.

"I want to sleep at a decent time," Dylan's tongue is sharp as he speaks, "forgive us for accepting some much-needed help."

You choose not to speak, smiling as you breeze past to take another freshly washed dish. It would be far nicer if Mr. H would go ahead and just scold or kick you out, but he just stands there in the doorway, hands on his hips, staring. His presence makes it harder to focus on the task at hand. Your hands tremble as you take the next set of dishes, nearly drop a spoon when you're separating it from the forks. 'It's okay', Nick mouths, out of view of Mr. H's careful watch.

"Y/N, get to the campfire and help with the kids," your heart sinks, "I'll take over and help them finish up."

"We literally have ten plates left," Dylan deadpans.

Mr. H is quiet, stares until it begins to feel uncomfortable again. Frowning, you hand off your dish to Mr. H and head for the door. You feel like a stray cat being tossed out into the rain, slinking out into the rapidly darkening outdoors. The campers have already been herded down to the fire pit, leaving the main section of the camp empty and deserted. Walking alone in the woods is not your favorite cup of tea. It's not even that far, but the dark forest is ominous, trees towering overhead, bushes concealing God knows what behind them. The constant reports of kids seeing something lurking in the woods at night are certainly not helping the matter.

Alone and out of Mr. H's watchful eye, you drag your feet, walking as slowly as you can manage without outright stopping. Either time must be passing slower, or Mr. H is talking the boys' ears off because you find yourself approaching a roaring campfire and the boys are nowhere to be seen. Kaitlyn's waving you over, perched up on the 'Counselors Log' as she calls it. You're still not sure how she's managed to ward off all the kids, but she's successfully staked her claim and so far it seems to be well respected.

"How did flirting with Nick go?" She asks once you're within earshot.

"Great until Mr. H ran me off," pause for dramatic effect, "twice."

"Keep on trying my little Storm Trooper," you can smell the faintest twinge of alcohol on her breath, must've been a hard day for her to dig out the vodka she smuggled in, "once you get out of here, you'll be set for life with that man's fortune."

Here we go again. "I still don't know what makes you think he's rich," there's not much space on the log, you're surprised you have room to fit. Of course, all of the counselors could hypothetically fit, if Jacob wasn't taking up an entire quarter of it.

"Dude, he was wearing a designer jacket at orientation!" Emma chirps, kicking her feet. "He has to at least come from a little money."

Right on queue, Dylan and Nick walk around the bend. Mr. H follows closely behind, like some sort of creepy shadow. Something cold hits your legs, and you realize it's Kaitlyn handing you her canteen. "Hold this and pretend it's yours," she whispers, "I'm afraid Mr. H may be on to me and my drinking habits."

There's a big shuffle to fit the two extra counselors — Jacob doesn't want to move to the edge and close his damn legs, Ryan nearly knocks Abigail's notebook into the fire and she just about smacks him upside the head with it once it's returned. You find yourself teetering on the edge of the log, thrilled that Nick has chosen to sit next to you, but it's getting hard to stay on this damn log.

"This log could be just a little bit bigger," Nick chuckles, watching you struggle. "Would you rather sit in my lap?"

You're not sure if it's his words or if it's the raging fire that puts the red in your cheeks. "Are you sure?"

"Long as you're comfortable with it," he says it so easily like it's the simplest thing in the world.

Despite your better judgment —the kids are definitely not going to let this one go— you agree. Nick shuffles a bit, adjusting to the extra space, and reaches out for you with open arms. He curls around you, long arms securing around your waist as you settle into his lap. Vaguely, you become concerned that you may be a bit too heavy for him. You attempt to alleviate that worry by putting more of your weight onto your feet than you are in his lap, it's an awkward sensation.

Nick's arms tighten, pulling you the rest of the way down. Plan? Foiled. "You're not too heavy for me, darling, don't even worry about that," lips ghost against the shell of your ear, presses a kiss behind it. There's a loud gasp from the kids that has you freezing, fearing the worst. Did you do something?

Then you hear Ryan's voice, and it hits you that he's just telling a story. Nick's chin hooks over your shoulder, a welcome weight that draws the stress from your tired body. He's so warm, all wrapped up around you like an oversized blanket, it's like you were made to fit right into his arms.

You've forgotten about the canteen in your hand. At least, forgotten it until Kaitlyn reaches over and plucks it from your hand. "Don't you two just look cozy," she teases, and you feel Nick hide his face in your shoulder.

Ryan's tale of the night comes to a close, and the kids are not happy about it. A handful of them beg for another story in their shrill little voices, someone offers their fruit snacks as bribery. You really need to pay attention to his stories more often, they're the highlight of the night, and half the time, you don't even hear them.

"I think I've told a story for just about everything," Ryan's mostly just talking to himself, albeit loudly.

"Have you told a story about werewolves yet?" The words tumble out of your mouth before you can do anything about it.

Ryan's eyebrows furrow, and he's quiet for a moment. "Can't say that I have, actually."

"Hey guys," Mr. H is lowering his voice, stepping between you and the fire, "let's just skip the werewolf topic and get everyone to bed."

It's not like you're being scolded, you've done nothing wrong, but his tone makes you feel like you've committed the most heinous crime imaginable. Your coworkers share the same expression, confused beyond words.

"Mr. H, we still have thirty minutes before bed," Nick's protest goes nowhere. Mr. H's words are law, and if he wants everyone in bed now, what more choice do you have?

With a bucket of water, Mr. H puts out the fire, and you're once again tasked to do a job that you don't get paid enough for. Getting out of Nick's lap is the worst part—you feel so safe there; it's like nobody could lay a single finger on you.

Getting the kids back to their cabins is like herding cats. Someone is always doing their own thing and not listening to instructions, and it makes your job impossibly tricky. You lose sight of Nick rather quickly, too wrapped up in stopping a group of boys from marching off to 'hunt down the wendigos themselves'. In a way, their attitude reminds you of Jacob. Invincible until they're not. It's all you can do to keep the ringleader from tearing off into the night, and he's only talked out of it once you're out of the forest altogether.

"Campers, head to your cabins!" Kaitlyn shouts, "don't make me tell you twice!"

She's gonna have to tell them twice. About half the kids, including your Wendigo Fighters, trudge to their cabins, but the remaining half cant give a damn what she just said. Who's truly in charge here? Because it seems like the campers could overrun this place if they so chose. Speaking of running camps, you can see Mr. H tying some sort of rope to the side of the pool building. He's dragging the rope across the lawn, looks like he's taking it all the way across the main exit of camp. The hell is he doing?

There's a small voice behind you that barely stands out among the chatter of campers. Blaire stands behind you, Antonio close behind, holding her tiny little hand.

"Did you say something?" You ask, kneeling to get on her level.

"Counselor Nick asked me to ask you to come and save him," she repeats, pointing off to your right.

Ah. There's Nick.

He's amassed himself a small crowd, and he really doesn't look like he knows how to get out of it. This happens every time he opens his mouth; the kids love asking him to say things in his accent.

"Thanks, Blaire," you reach up to fix a stray hair, "head on to your cabin now, 'kay?"

With Blaire and her friend running off to their cabins, you're faced with the familiar task of saving your boyfriend from certain doom. You can hear the words he's saying, "butter," "squirrel," and "juice box," being the first three you hear.

"Okay, kids, let's not harass Counselor Nick anymore than we have to," you hate raising your voice, but it's the only thing that's ever worked in the past. The kids are disappointed, but they scamper off just as Kaitlyn whips out the megaphone.

You get the feeling that you're no longer their favorite Counselor.

With the megaphone out, you only have a few moments before you need to disappear into your respective cabins, but Nick's wandering hands are finding your waist, bringing you in for the quickest of kisses. "You never told me your plan for tonight, love."

You'd almost forgotten about that. Had you even planned anything?

"The two stooges sneak out at eleven fifteen; we might be able to get out after they do," you offer. Quite frankly, you have no other ideas.

"Works for me," another kiss, and then you're separating, jogging to your cabins before Kaitlyn can come after you. It's happened before—you still think your left ear is ringing a bit.

Your bunk isn't much, just some tiny thing tucked into the corner. The frame is cracking, so nobody sleeps above you, and you've tucked a spare sheet around it to create some makeshift curtains. It's nice; privacy is a rarity around here. As a bonus, your bed is pushed right up against the window, granting you full, unlimited access to it. You're really glad that you left the blinds open this morning because opening those would make a lot of racket.

The kids settle in rather quickly; your cabin has learned the hard way that Kaitlyn does not mess around when it comes to bedtime. She is a woman of routine, and she has no problem reminding them who is in charge. The problem is that now, the cabin is impossibly quiet, and you have nothing to help pass the time.

Pushing open the window helps a little bit—at least now you have some fresh air. The camp is eerily quiet, forest looming behind, a monster in plain sight. You will never understand how people go camping alone. What do you do if something gets ahold of you? If something goes horribly wrong?

It feels like an hour has passed before Jacob's cabin door opens up; your watch says it's only been twenty minutes. Emma comes out next. It's clear that she does this pretty often because she makes no effort to be quiet. How Mr. H constantly fails to catch them, you'll never know.

Nick's door is the last to open. He's more cautious about it, minding the squeaky, loose stairs far better than Jacob and Emma did. He crouches next to his cabin, only scurries across camp when the two have their backs turned on their way out of camp. Unfortunately for him, he isn't graceful enough to avoid stepping on and snapping a rather loud twig.

"Did you hear that?" Good lord, why is Jacob observant now, of all times? He wasn't very observant last week when he drove the golf cart into a ditch.

Emma is dismissive, you don't hear what she says, but she's tugging on his arm and urging him on his way. From behind the central tree, Nick pokes his head out, wide-eyed and pale. You feel like you're in a spy movie when you clamber out of the window as quietly as you can manage. The way that Nick scurries over reminds you of a puppy, clumsily tripping over his own feet, just barely able to catch himself.

The loudest cowbells you've ever heard ring in the distance.

So that's what Mr. H was doing earlier. You can hear his voice in the distance, a bright white flashlight landing on the two escapees. There's no time for Nick to run back, not without getting caught himself. Nick seems to have gathered that himself because he picks up his speed and jumps, grabbing onto the railing and hoisting himself over in one fluid motion. He doesn't need to say anything, you're already climbing back through the window, and Nick is tumbling in after you.

Limbs are everywhere, you don't know where Nick starts, and you end. This bed is barely big enough for you, never mind you and Nick. He might as well be a second blanket, with the way he's sprawled out on top of you, panting in your ear.

"This isn't how I imagined this escapade turning out," he whispers, voice unintentionally sending a ripple down your spine. He must feel it because he finally squirms himself away from your ear.

Mr. H is beginning his lecture outside; you can hear it in his tone. Preaching about responsibility and putting the kids first. You'd heard enough of this at orientation.

"After all, what will the parents think?" Nick mocks with a roll of his eyes.

"If something happens to the kids, their parents won't send them back next year," you finish, much to his delight.

Nick shuffles around, rearranging your positions to put you closest to the window. Your pillow barely accommodates the two of you, but you hardly even notice it. It's hard to think of anything when Nick's all wrapped around you, legs tangled with your own, barely an inch of space between you.

His hand slips under your shirt, settling flat on the small of your back. "Isn't it silly that a lecture is what brought us together?"

It was only a month and a half ago, but it feels like it's been a millennium since that day. Framed for a mistake made by Emma, you and Nick had been subjected to an hour-long lecture and a three-day sentence to cleaning. You've been bound at the hip ever since.

"Remember the fight in the showers?" It's growing hard to think; Nick is so warm that he's putting you to sleep.

He hums, "I was convinced that you hated me."

You'd coincidentally thought the same thing. Strange how all this worked out. Nick presses a kiss into your forehead, then another one, right between your eyes—you can't help but giggle at the sensation.

"Shh," a kiss to your nose, "your giggles are going to get us caught."

"Well, nobody was bothered by the cow—," you're cut off by a pair of familiar lips, effectively shutting you up. The kiss is too short for your liking, Nick may have only intended it to be a small peck, but you didn't sneak him into your bed just for a peck.

He gasps against your mouth, effectively surprised at how you chase him down, and for an agonizing moment, he goes still. Your hand finds its way up his chest, fingers splaying out over his heart, and that's what draws him from his stupor. It's a sensation that you never want to get used to, the way you fit together, the pressure of his soft lips against yours, the strength of his arms around you.

Teeth clack together with a soft noise; your mouth opens to him, a hot tongue delving into your mouth. His tongue is rather short, can't quite reach yours unless you meet him halfway, and the muffled whine you receive makes it all the more worth it. You don't know who's melting more, can't tell who is breaking kisses to gasp for air and who is starting them again. What you do know is that it's you who moves your leg up; it's Nick who whimpers when your thigh presses into your groin.

Oh, what you wouldn't give to be in a place where you could adequately act upon your inner thoughts.

"Fuck," Nick pants, breathless, although you're not much better yourself. He shifts a bit, only making your thigh press harder into him, and you suddenly become very aware of what you're doing to him.

Drawing your lips away from his feels like the most monumental task you've ever completed; it's all you can do to stop yourself from kissing him until your lips bruise and your heads spin. You don't want to go to sleep, but you know that if you continue on, neither of you may be able to stop.

Neither of you recalls exactly who fell asleep first or when. It just happened somewhere between Nick's thumb rubbing the side of your cheek and the novelty of sharing a bed for the first time. One moment you're gazing into sleepy brown eyes; the next, Nick's watch is vibrating and stirring you both from your slumber.

"What...?" Words are difficult. Your bones are heavy; it feels like you've slept for a century and a half.

"Just my alarm," he murmurs, his voice thick with sleep.

Despite the growing need to get up and be ready before the kids, neither of you can bring yourselves to move. Nick is so warm against you, a stark contrast to the cool breeze coming in through the open window. The moment is fleeting, though, as Nick's watch reminds you of the time.

"Find me in the kitchen later," kiss, "I have something to show you." Before you know it, he's slipping out the door and scurrying back to his own cabin before Dylan can wake everyone with his announcements.

You don't get a chance to visit Nick until after lunch.

Usually, you have time in the morning, not for long but enough for a kiss on the cheek and a chat about the day's plans, but your day is going wrong in every possible way. First, two of the showers broke, and your morning shower rapidly turned into a midday one, and so, so many kids fell when on their trail hike with Ryan and Jacob. You've never seen so many scraped knees and elbows in your life.

When you do finally get to visit, Nick is... "What are you doing?"

Nick all but jumps, startled by your sudden appearance. It's short-lived because very quickly, he's grinning and waving you over to look at what he's concocting now.

"I don't get it," really, you don't. He's got what appears to be raspberries or strawberries in a strainer and a tin can underneath.

"Do you remember how Mr. H bought all that lemonade, and now we don't know what to do with it?" Whatever this is, he's excited, practically vibrating with it.

Cautious, you nod your head. You were one of the poor souls who had to carry all of it in and put it into the freezer. It's hard to forget that much lemonade.

Nick moves the strainer, revealing a bright red liquid underneath. "I made syrups," he can barely speak with how much he's smiling, "now we can have a little variety."

Where he's found the time to figure this out, you're not sure. He's handing you a glass from the fridge, already mixed with syrup and ready to go. Nick has never given you something that didn't taste amazing, and as you take your first sip, it continues to ring true. Strawberry lemonade.

"God, you look at Y/N like they hand-crafted the universe," Dylan must be coming up with these in advance—he's too quick with it.

"Hey," Nick scoffs, "you're not much better than I am."

"At least I don't give off the vibes of a golden retriever."

Speechless. That's what Nick is. Jaw slack, eyes wide as he glances at his reflection on the fridge. Now that it's been pointed out, you can't unsee it.

It falls quiet. Nick is still looking at himself in what you can only assume is horror; Dylan is getting into the granola stash, and you're so busy watching them that you don't even think to speak. Distantly, you think you can hear Emma and Jacob bickering, a familiar sound around these parts.

"Romeo and Juliet got sentenced to three days of hard labor," Dylan supplies around a mouthful of granola. Nick grimaces, and you can't tell if it's in response to the punishment or the granola.

"I can't believe Mr. H caught them with cow bells on a rope," there's a glint in Nick's eye as he speaks. "What's he got them doing?"

"Do you want to find out?" Mr. H's voice is loud, booming through the quiet little kitchen, effectively shaking you to your core. You don't realize that you've jumped and grabbed onto Nick until his arm is wrapped around you, anchoring you against him.

Emma stumbles in through the door, her cheeks red from the sun, "Y/N, can I borrow you? For...something?" Being borrowed means, you'll be busy until sundown. But you'll take anything over Mr. H staring through your very soul as if he knows all of your wrongdoings. Slipping from Nick's protective embrace, you follow her out of the building. She's got a mini play going on, but she needs extra hands, and Jacob is being particularly...Jacob, today.

"I just need someone to keep an eye on the extras and make sure they don't wander off," she tells you.

At first, you don't understand it, but then it becomes very clear that her group tends to wander. You feel like a herding dog, weaving back and forth and turning the little heathens back to the task at hand. One of the kids spills your lemonade all over the ground, and nobody owns up to it. You hadn't even gotten to drink much of it, and now your glass is completely empty.

Mr. H really doesn't pay you guys enough.

"Has Mr. H been rude to you lately, or is he just doing it to me and Jacob?" Emma asks you shortly after Ryan has come to escort the kids to dinner.

"He definitely has been sort of..." you have to stop cleaning up just to have a coherent thought. Yeah, now that she mentions it, he definitely has been teetering between pleasant and snappy lately. "Snappy? Menacing?"

"An ass?" She drops some gnome hats into her costume box, "he got mad at me and Jacob earlier just for being in the same room."

With all of the gnome gear packed away, the two of you are finally able to leave. The sun is already falling, bathing the forest in deep hues of red and orange—a true golden hour. It's comforting, a stark contrast to how menacing it can be once the sun goes down. A shiver ripples down your spine.

As you grow near the main building, Mr. H's truck tears out of the driveway, sending dirt and gravel flying up into a plume of smoke. Idle, Ryan stands stiff as a board where the truck was once parked. Even from a ways away, you can see the whites of his eyes, like a deer in headlights. When he finally does come to face you, he remains the epitome of shocked, jaw-slack, eyes distant.

"What's going on?" Emma's the first to speak.

Ryan's quiet for a moment, and then, "he's...leaving for the night?" He says it as if he doesn't quite believe what he's saying.

There's a cheer to your left. It sounds like Jacob and...

"Nick?" You're surprised to hear your own voice. He just grins, stepping out from beside Jacob to come to you.

"We're finally unsupervised!" Jacob looks like a little kid as he all but stumbles over to you, taking the box of props from your hands, "I'll take this."

With Mr. H gone, Jacob and Emma are bound at the hip again, and you get the feeling you won't be seeing them until morning. In the back of your mind, a tiny voice suggests you do the same, but your grumbling stomach has its own ideas. Nick doesn't need to say a word, taking your hand in his and walking you to the cafeteria.

Sometimes you think he'd go hungry if that meant keeping you fed.

Chili on top of spaghetti is not what you expect him to put in front of you. To be fair, he did tell you that this is what he'd be making, but it still gets you. For once, you get to sit at the Counselor's table, a luxury you don't often have these days. Nick settles next to you, absolutely enthralled with what he's made.

"Didn't you eat once already, Nick?" Kaitlyn remarks, biting into a slice of garlic bread. Nick's cheeks turn pink, all he can do is nod and stare at his empty plate.

Is he...pouting?

You choose not to bring it up with the others around, Nick's never been good at explaining what he's feeling, and teasing will only ensue if you ask. He does, however, scoot closer to you. Enough so that your thighs are pressed together, and your shoulders brush with every movement. You stay like that, listening to the conversations happening around you as you finish your food. Out of the corner of your eye, you spot Dylan heading for the stairs, bleary-eyed and half awake.

Abigail leans her elbows against the table, lowering her voice as if Dylan can somehow hear her over all the chatter. "Where does Dylan always go this time of the day?"

"Not a clue," lying straight through your teeth. He's probably curling up in your office as you speak, but that's none of your concern.

With Mr. H gone, you and the counselors have free reign over what to do for the night, and together you all decide that the best thing to do would be letting them play at the cabins until bedtime. A far easier task than herding them to the fire and back.

The routine begins. Nick takes your dishes, disappearing into the kitchen just before Kaitlyn and Abigail begin directing the kids. In the blink of an eye, you're carrying leftover dishes into the kitchen, and you're once again taking up a towel to begin the drying process.

"I'm here, I'm queer," Dylan all but bursts into the kitchen, "and I don't want to be here."

"This would be so much easier if Mr. H would actually invest in this place," Nick's critique is not without reason. It feels like half of the camp is falling apart around you. From the unfinished construction and deteriorating structures to its barely functioning equipment. Hell, the golf carts are so old that parts for them are becoming rarer by the day.

"At least he's left us for the night," you try to be positive about the situation, but there's nothing positive about a whole bunch of dirty dishes.

It's dizzying, spinning back and forth between stations so mindlessly. With no Mr. H to worry about, it goes smoothly. Nothing gets dropped, and it's looking like none of Nick's plates have gone missing, for once. The same cannot be said for the forks, which seem to have dropped in numbers since yesterday, likely at the bottom of the trashcan. None of you get paid enough to go in after them.

It's quiet outside. Far too quiet, actually. Usually, you can at least hear the kids playing or a counselor talking a touch too loud, but all you hear tonight are crickets. Nick must be picking up on it, too because he's squeezing your hand a bit tighter than usual, and he's not torn his eyes away from the path.

Darkness has already fallen, casting a blanket of black and blues upon the forest. A full moon hangs in the sky, acting as the only light to guide you through the poorly-lit trail. The cabins are deserted, with not a child in sight.

"Can you believe it?" Kaitlyn's sudden appearance startles you. "We got everyone in bed without a singular thing going wrong."

"Gee, did you threaten them, or did they do that naturally?" Dylan barely dodges the swift kick that comes for his shins. You don't think he'd even have shins anymore if Kaitlyn's legs were any longer.

"It just required a werewolf story," you hadn't even seen Ryan sitting on the cabin steps. Had he been there the whole time? "Kaitlyn called for bedtime, and they scattered like roaches."

Abigail giggles next to him. "You should have seen them, scurrying to their cabins like a werewolf was after them."

As conversation blossoms, Nick lightly tugs at your hand, eyes darting from you to the beaten path leading to the ziplines. Well, here's your chance to finally go through with that plan. You move slowly, at first, feet treading lightly as you depart from your group. If anybody notices, they don't mention it.

Then, Nick's picking up the pace, and you're all out running, wrapped in a fit of giggles as you sprint hand in hand to the ziplines. Finally, finally, you have each other all to yourselves, with absolutely no one around to impose. The forest is dark and Lord only knows what's lurking in the shadows, but the path feels like it's lit up like a Christmas tree. Absolutely nothing can come between you, Nick, and the open trail ahead of you.

"Do you think they know we're gone?" Nick pants, just as the ziplines appear in your line of sight.

You're already stumbling to a slow walk, lungs burning, out of breath for all the wrong reasons. Nick's long strides are hard to keep up with. "Let's just hope they don't come looking for us."

The ziplines aren't as nice as the boathouse is. It used to be illuminated by a singular fluorescent lamp post, but the bulb has since gone out, and Mr. H refuses to buy "unnecessary lights." The stairs are a different monster in of itself. Old wooden boards creak menacingly beneath your feet, seemingly growing louder with every step you take.

"Y/N."

"Did you say something?" You turn to look up at Nick, who just cocks his head to the side like a confused puppy.

"Nope," he blinks, "at least...I don't think I did?"

It happens again, at the bottom of the stairs. A faint whisper of your name, fleeting, dancing around your ear just long enough for you to become convinced that you didn't make it up.

"Did you say my name?"

"Baby, I haven't said a word since the last time you thought I said something."

You're not sure if you buy it or not, but Nick is tugging you into his chest, wrapping you into the sweetest of hugs—tight, just enough to remind you that you're safe. He's got you. You're safe here. He sways you back and forth, the motion shaking all of the worries from your head and filling the space with nothing but Nick. Nick and his heart that you can feel pitter-pattering against your ear. The way his fingertips trace invisible shapes into your spine, the way his cologne meets your nose, a faint mixture of vanilla and coconut that's just barely there.

"It's just the forest playing tricks on you," he murmurs into your ear, chin heavy on your shoulder, "I've got you."

You only unwrap from each other to go and sit at the end of the dock, feet dangling off the edge. Nick's feet just barely avoid touching the water; any wrong move and you're afraid he may end up with wet feet.

"I think this is the first time we've ever truly been by ourselves," yawning, he leans over to rest his head against yours, "as strange as that is to say."

"Do you think we'll get more moments like this before summer ends?" You hadn't intended to ask that yet, but it tumbles out of your mouth anyway.

Nick hums, the noise sending a quiver down your spine. "I like to think that we will," soft lips press a kiss to the skin just before your ear, "maybe after we leave, we can have a night to ourselves at that one hotel in town."

"Harvester?"

"Harabinger?"

It starts with an H; that's all you can recall. It's hard to think with Nick's nose pressed against your cheek, hot breath fanning out against your sensitive skin. An unknown voice calls your name from across the shore; you know you heard it this time. Yet you pay it no mind—distracted by the kisses trailing across your cheek and the sparkling brown eyes that could drown you if you gazed into them for too long.

His lips meet yours, a gentle, unmistakable pressure that you've come to know so well over these past weeks. He breaks it, then comes back, once, twice, thrice. You don't have time to consider pulling him into something that isn't just a few teasing pecks; he does it all for you. It's soft at first, just a simple caress, and then he deepens it in a way that has your head spinning.

His arm is circling you, drawing you closer until there's no space between you, and that's still not enough. Even as his tongue licks into your mouth, testing the waters, he's still not close enough, won't be until there isn't an ounce of space left between your tired bodies. It's that feeling that guides you to breaking the kiss—you can barely manage it, especially not when Nick whines and attempts to chase you down— to swing yourself over and straddle his lap.

His surprise is heard only through a small gasp. It's short-lived, his arms circling your waist, gathering you against him. Your arms are draping around his neck, and then you're kissing him again. He's all you can think of, senses clouded with Nick, Nick, Nick. You can feel him now, pressed against you between your legs, and it's all you can do not to take advantage of that face.

"You do such crazy things to me," his accent is thick as he mumbles against your lips, breathing heavily.

He falls backward, taking you with him as his back hits the rotting wood of the dock with a soft thump. Then he's kissing you again, insistent mouth parting your lips, hot tongue meeting yours for a fleeting second. An unfamiliar heat blossoms in your core, a dancing flame that threatens to grow into a wildfire at the drop of a hat. Nicks's hands are everywhere, tracing up your spine, cupping your cheeks. All the while, he's humming against your lips, a small noise that you've rarely heard him make.

Your head is spinning too much for you to focus, leaves you no option but to break away and gasp for the sweet, sweet oxygen that fills your stinging lungs. Nick looks so pretty underneath of you, hair splayed out on the wood beneath him, swollen lips, and glistening eyes illuminated by the light of the moon. It's hard to stop. Even with how dizzy you've become, you can't resist leaning back in to kiss down his neck, tongue soothing over every spot you come across.

"Shit," Nick gasps, "wait."

Just like that, you've frozen in place. "Is something wrong?"

He shakes his head, fingers catching your chin to guide you back up to him for a sweet peck. "Not here," his voice is trembling, unable to get above a whisper, "I want to make it perfect for you."

You're rolling your eyes before you can stop yourself. "It's perfect right now."

"Baby, if I have you now, I'm not sure if I'll be able to keep myself off of you for another month."

He says it so seriously that you can't help but giggle. "You have a point."

Breathless, you settle down on top of him, your ear against his chest, listening to his heartbeat and his arms intertwined around you like a vice. Time has stopped; the only thing in this world moving are your two heaving chests. For just a moment, you close your eyes and just breathe.

You awake to a strange sensation. Nick's there; you can feel him against you, but your legs are swaying in such an unnatural way, and his heartbeat is no longer as loud.

"Are you carrying me?" It's a dumb question. As soon as you open your eyes, you're met with a sleepy-eyed Nick and the dark cabins looming directly ahead of you.

"I was trying not to wake you," he frowns, kissing your forehead. "What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn't at least try to carry you to bed."

You grumble, burying your nose into his shirt. There's a weight in your chest that grows heavier the closer you get to the cabins. You really should get to bed, but even as Nick stands at your door, you can't bring yourself to get down. Nick's too warm to let go of.

"Baby?"

"Hm?"

"We're at your door."

"I know." You still make no effort to get down, only clinging tighter.

Nick chuckles, low and heavy in his chest. "Is this your way of saying you don't want me to go?"

Nod.

If Kaitlyn is awake, she doesn't say anything when Nick opens the door and steps inside. Only when he sits you on the bed, do you let go of him, just long enough to kick your shoes off and crawl under the covers. Nick is quick to follow after you, wrapping around you like a blanket.

Yeah, you could get used to this.

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